Chapter 25: The Last Ride of Barbara Gordon

Selina slept on the recliner, while Stephanie took the couch.

The sun rose behind a dingy gray sky the following morning, and Selina was lured from her sleep like a beast from its lair by a high, sweet smell. Selina's eyes fluttered open.

Stephanie was in the kitchen, making waffles.

This was confusing for Selina on more than one level.

"Good morning," Stephanie said, before applying syrup to the rectangular waffles on a light green plate in front of her. "These are for you, by the way."

Selina sat up in the recliner, and rubbed the crud out of her eyes. "I have stuff to make waffles?"

"You didn't," Stephanie said. "I snuck out when you were sleeping and lifted it out of a gas station a couple of blocks from here. Oh, and I took your key so I could get back in."

She took Selina's key out of the pocket of the gym shorts she was wearing. It clanged lightly on the counter when she dropped it.

Stephanie said "Sorry."

"Normally," Selina said, the early morning rasp trying to work its way out of her voice, "I'd be pissed at you for going through my things… But then again, I made a living going through other people's things for damn near a third of my life, so… Way to show initiative."

Stephanie smiled.

"Did you lift the waffle iron, too?"

"No."

Selina blinked. "Then where did you get it?"

"From the cupboard down here," Stephanie said. "Where you keep your pots and pans."

Selina squinted at the metal and red plastic contraption that Stephanie had been slaving over.

"When I got this place," Selina said, "all the pots and pans and stuff were already here. That's a waffle iron?"

"Yeah," Stephanie said. "What did you think it was?"

"I thought it was one of those things that made grilled cheeses."

Stephanie looked at Selina in the way reserved for Alzheimer's scares among close relatives. "What?"

"Yeah," Selina said. "They have those. You put it in there so you don't have to flip it? What, you don't believe me?"

"Oh, I believe you," Stephanie said. "But, uh…"

Stephanie carefully turned the hot waffle iron so Selina could see inside.

"See many grid-based grilled cheeses, then, do ya?"

"I never opened it," Selina said.

"You never opened the thing that was in your home?"

"No," Selina said. "Because I don't like grilled cheese. They're gloppy and they get stuck in your gum line."

Stephanie just shook her head, and said "Dude, your waffles are getting cold."

Selina got up off the recliner, feeling the ache in her muscles and hearing her joints pop, and trundled over to the kitchen counter, where she pulled up a barstool and sat. Stephanie handed her a fork.

"You happen to boost any vegetables when you were out?"

"No," Stephanie said, pouring some batter for her own. "They were taken already. The meat, too."

Selina took a bite and swallowed. "You know, if you eat nothing but this garbage…"

Stephanie made a face.

"...this golden, buttery, delicious garbage…"

Stephanie's face went away.

"...then you're gonna die of scurvy," Selina said. "Like a pirate. Or of dysentery, like in that Oregon Trail game they used to make us play in history class."

"I'm pretty sure the Oregon Trail was, y'know, an actual thing, too," Stephanie said.

"You know what dysentery is?" Selina asked. "It's shitting yourself to death."

"You had to say that just when I was about to eat, didn't you?"

"Because I'm trying to stop you from shitting yourself to death."

Stephanie looked at the bedroom door, and then back at Selina.

"You mean when I can die of thirst like you apparently plan to?" Stephanie asked. "Perish the thought."

For the sake of their newfound friendship, Selina decided to let that one slide.

Oracle was looking over the plans for Georgio's for Nightwing.

By the time he got to the restaurant this morning, staking out from the roof of the flower shop across the street, the nine dead bodies outside of the restaurant had bloomed to twelve.

Talia or Hill must have been sending them in threes.

But why?

"So let me get this straight," Oracle said in his ear. "A kid you met on a rooftop not only pointed you to the only lead you have right now, but he figured out you and Batman's secret identities before he hit puberty. And, y'know, mine."

Nightwing sighed. "That's the jist. But he doesn't know you're Oracle, I don't think. Just that you used to be Batgirl."

"And this kid's name is Tim Drake? Did I hear that properly?

"Yeah."

A moment as Oracle typed. "Timothy Jackson Drake. Pretty average young man, from what I see. Straight As, no extracurriculars. Self-defense classes, though, good for him. Summer job at Wal-Mart. Parents Jack and Janet, barely making ends meet with a little start-up they have going, Drake Industries, had to take poor Tim out of boarding school and put him in public… All signs point to him being Jewish, so prospects for racist 8chan posts will be considerably lower, but there has to be some creepy porn preferences I can find on his hard drive. Or I can put in a keylogger, maybe."

Nightwing grimaced. "Why in God's name are you looking for racist posts and porn?"

When Barbara Gordon paused, Dick Grayson could tell it was because he was failing to grasp the obvious.

"Because he knows who you and Batman are," Oracle finally said. "We're blackmailing him."

"We are not blackmailing Tim Drake."

Oracle groaned. "Enlighten me as to why we shouldn't silence the kid who found out one of the most closely guarded secrets in the world."

"Because if he were gonna talk," Nightwing said, "he would have done it before now. And… He said Batman needed Robin. I dunno. Just something about the kid."

"One day," Oracle said, "this silly faith you have in humanity is gonna humble you hard."

"Why on Earth would I be humble?" Nightwing asked. "I'm dating a ginger computer genius with an amazing rack."

"Ugh," Oracle said. "And I am so beating her ass when I find her. You at Giorgio's?"

"Yup."

"You going in?"

"Yuuuuup."

"Have fun," Oracle said. "And don't die."

Bruce had spent the last half hour cleaning the blood off of his armor.

Bare-chested, now that the t-shirt he would have worn beneath his armor had been slashed to ribbons during the impromptu surgery the night before, he had a choice between using one of Selina's towels, or toilet paper.

Towel. Of course.

He even used his bad shoulder to clean it off to his exacting standards, to get him used to the pain. He had a day ahead of him. He always did.

Bruce put his armor and gauntlets on. He found his cowl on the bedroom floor, and placed it on his head.

"Penny One, come in," Batman said.

"Oh, thank goodness," Alfred said in his ear. "I feared the worst. You haven't been in contact in hours. What on Earth happened last night?"

Batman remembered a terrified young boy with a gun in his hand, and tried to suppress it.

"I got shot last night."

"Oh my," Alfred said.

"But I'm fine. I'm at Selina's right now."

"Oh… My?"

Batman grunted. "Nothing happened, if that's what you're wondering. She just patched me up."

"Hmph," Alfred said. "And Pinocchio's quest to become a real live boy continues ever onward."

Batman scowled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If one is to question the meaning behind such a statement," Alfred said, "one already knows the meaning behind such a statement. I will, of course, radio in if any change comes to our mission status. Penny One out."

The line went dead.

Alfred always did have a soft spot for Selina Kyle. And for Clark Kent. And for anyone, it seemed, that would make Batman a little less… Batman.

He clicked two buttons on his gauntlet, and a holographic display appeared over his forearm. He needed to check social media sites to see what was happening in Gotham. To see if he needed to change his strategy depending on the general tenor of the city.

The first site he checked was Twitter.

Things that will irrevocably change a person do not always arrive with a bang. Nor, as the poets might posit, do they even begin with a whimper.

Sometimes the things that alter a human being to their very core arrive under a pall of dead silence.

So it was, when Batman checked the highest trending topic in Gotham City.

#WeGotBatman…

Selina and Stephanie decided to have seconds.

"What's the weirdest thing you ever stole?" Stephanie asked.

Selina frowned as she used her fork to corral the remnants of her maple syrup into a pool in the middle of her plate.

"Campfire," Selina finally said.

"How the hell do you steal a campfire?" Stephanie asked.

"No," Selina said. "It's…"

She set her fork down. "Please tell me you aren't too young to know who Bob Ross is."

"Yeah," Stephanie said. "The painter on PBS with the fro. The Happy Little Trees guy."

"Right, Selina said. "The Happy Little Trees guy. He had that show on PBS for God knows how long, and he painted nothing but landscapes. Of all the paintings he ever painted on that show, he only had one painting that had a person in it. Just one. And it was called 'Campfire.'"

"Really."

"Yeah. It's not even an actual person. It was a shadow of a person cast on a post from the light of said campfire. But that apparently mattered to my buyer."

"Who hired you to steal a Bob Ross painting?" Stephanie asked.

"You're a supervillain's daughter, and you don't know snitches get stitches?"

"Sorry."

"It's weird for two reasons," Selina said. "The first is for every painting on the show, there were two copies. The first was the one Bob Ross did in private so he knew what he was going to do on the show, and the second one is the one that Bob Ross actually did on camera. My buyer was really, really specific that he wanted the on-camera version. Told me ten or twelve times, past the point that even an idiot would have eventually gotten it."

"And the second reason?"

"The second reason," Selina said, "was the security. I traced it back to this ex-wife of a mob capo in Pittsburgh named Ginny DeMarco. She turned states in the divorce proceedings, and saw her ex-hubby go to prison and cleaned out his wallet at the same time."

"It's nice to know someone hit the American Dream."

"No doubt," Selina said. "Got a shit-ton of money, custody of the kids, and the mansion by the time it was all said and done. And an entire wing of the mansion was devoted just to housing Campfire. There was nothing else there except two thumbprint scanners, a retinal scan, anda breath scanner."

"A breath scanner?"

"I've been working security for a few years now," Selina said, "and I've been breaking into places for a lot longer than that. The house holding the frigging Bob Ross painting is the only breath scanner I've ever seen. There was a brief fad for them a few years ago, I guess, because the world is full of idiots, and a breath scanner is an idiot's version of a cool idea."

"How'd you get past it?" Stephanie asked.

"I yanked it off the wall and the door opened," Selina said. "Breath scanners are stupid, they don't work. All that security to protect that painting. I got paid thirty large for something that barely would have gone for ten at auction."

Selina finished off her orange juice, set her glass down on the counter, and said "I guess some people must really love Bob Ross."

Stephanie smiled. "You're cool."

"Thank you."

"I'm not cool."

"You're cool enough."

Stephanie scoffed. "I'm not Stealing-a-Bob-Ross-Painting Cool. I'm not Rooftop-Rendezvous-with-Sexy-Superpeople cool. I'm not even cool for high school, and that's… That's a low bar."

"Wow," Selina said. "You'd think being a daughter of a supervillain would get you some points."

"I know," Stephanie said. "Like… I don't even know how to fight."

"Huh…" Selina said. "But, hey, it's not like you don't know how to take care of yourself. You bit off a henchman's nose the other day, so…"

"I don't think acts of cannibalism constitute knowing how to take care of yourself."

"Is it technically cannibalism if you spit the nose out, though?"

"If you have to get technical about something like cannibalism," Stephanie said, "then yes, it still counts."

It should be noted at this point that Selina Kyle was well-rested, well-fed, and she had just gotten to tell a Catwoman story. In such instances, she had a habit of being more generous and permissible than she otherwise might have been.

How was Selina Kyle supposed to know that what she was about to say was going to change Gotham City forever?

"Tell you what," Selina said as she folded her hands in her lap. "If we make it out of this… I will train you how to fight."

Stephanie didn't react at all for a second. But then her eyes widened, and her lips back into an open-mouthed smile that, while genuine, would still have frightened small children.

"Really?" Stephanie asked, her voice rising to a squeak.

"It's gonna be brutal," Selina said. "I'll teach you the same way I was taught. That means welts. Bruises. Bloody noses. Your knees will develop time travel powers because they will age three times faster than the rest of you… But yes… Really."

Stephanie's eyes now clenched shut and, still smiling, she opened and closed her hands rapidly.

"Stephanie, what are you doing?"

"The only thing I can do with my hands right now that doesn't feel weird!"

Under a cloud of anguish, Batman opened Selina's bedroom door, and stepped out into the living room.

The images he had seen, innocent people murdered by their fellow citizens and dressed, after death, in his garb, in his symbol, began a slow process of settling upon his brain and seeping into his soul.

More than making him feel a certain way, Batman knew that what he saw would "say something" about him. He dreaded it. Batman was loathe to chart his flaws, but he knew that, near the top, was a lack of self-awareness. He knew that this would "say something," but as to what that might be, Batman also knew that he himself may wind up being among the last to hear it.

And the only thing that could have conceivably thrown Batman from the course of his self-pity was the sight that greeted him upon entering the living room.

That of Stephanie Brown, standing in the kitchen, her eyes clenched shut, her mouth open in what could only generously be described as a smile, opening and closing her hands.

Apparently, she hadn't heard the door open.

"Uh… Steph?" Selina said.

Stephanie opened her eyes, saw Batman, and immediately dropped her hands.

A brief moment of silence fell over the room that Batman felt compelled to puncture.

"Stephanie, may Selina and I have a moment alone?"

Stephanie squinted at him.

"How do you know my name?"

Batman was not in the mood for a conversation with anyone but Selina right now, so he put some extra bass in his voice, looked down the nose of his cowl at Stephanie, and said:

"I know everything."

Stephanie Brown did not appear to be intimidated. In fact, Stephanie did not even appear to be impressed. She put her hand out and leaned on the kitchen counter.

"Did… Did you get bitten by a radioactive asshole when you were a kid, and that's how you became Batman?"

Selina snorted, and desperately tried to wipe the smile off her face.

"Um…" Selina said once she got herself under control. "If you don't mind? I'd really appreciate it."

Stephanie pointed at Selina, and looked at Batman. "See that? Manners. Move, please."

Batman stepped out of the doorway, and to the side. Stephanie moved past him without further comment, and closed the door behind her.

"Please tell me you used just the one towel to get all that blood off your armor?" Selina asked. "Because if I see a bunch of washcloths piled up in there, I am gonna be so pissed."

Batman said nothing. He walked over to the corner of the living room, where it was darkest. He could see Selina smirking, as though she just knew that was what he was going to do.

"The Undying hasn't been stopped yet," Batman said. "Zatanna doesn't have a whole lot of time left. I need to know if I can count on your support to end this."

"No," Selina said. "No, you can't."

Batman didn't say anything. Selina got off of her barstool so she could put her back into what she was about to say next.

"How many times have I told you over the past eleven years that I am nothing like you? I'm not a hero. I don't have the other Justice League members on speed dial. I steal from the rich and give to myself. If I could sneak down chimneys to ruin Christmas for all the good little boys and girls, I'd do it if my percentage was good enough. And if I ever see Superman, I'm stepping on his Goddamn cape."

"You're more like me than even I knew a few minutes ago."

Selina snorted. "This oughta be good."

"You're not the one who's been defending the East End these past few days?"

Selina sighed. "If I didn't do what I've been doing, rich folks, like some people I could mention, will come across the pile of rubble that used to be the East End and buy it up cheap. The extent of my altruism only goes so far that I don't want to see ugly-ass condos screwing up the skyline. And that's a little thing. Not a big thing. The Undying's a big thing, and that makes it your thing. You're Batman. You can get along just fine without me."

That came a little too fast.

"You've been rehearsing that, haven't you?"

"The truth just rolls naturally off my tongue," Selina said. "Unlike a certain Caped Crusader I know."

She leaned towards him and whispered "Bruuuuuuuuce."

"Alright," Batman said. "How about something a little more recent."

And he pointed at the bedroom door.

"Stephanie?" Selina asked. "What about her?"

"How did you find her in all this?"

"She got caught by a trafficker," Selina said. "And hey, I needed someone to feed my cat."

"I couldn't help but overhear through the door that you plan on teaching her how to fight."

"Eavesdropping is an awful habit, but billionaires have no people skills, so it'd be like being mad at a dog for not being able to design a space shuttle. Yes, I'm training Stephanie to fight. What about it?

Batman tilted his head. "You have no idea what just happened, do you?"

"What?" Selina said, losing her patience. "What just happened?"

He felt like smiling during the act of bringing down the hammer on Selina Kyle, but he refrained from doing so.

"Selina… You have a Robin."

She just… stared at him, unblinking, mouth agape, during a span of time that, for her, must have felt like centuries.

"A costumed vigilante saved her from certain death," Batman said. "She took her in, kept her safe, and is now going to teach her how to defend herself. Tell me what you seriously think is going to happen next."

The face of Selina Kyle went from slack-jawed confusion to steely determination. She marched to the bedroom door, opened it a crack, and peeked her head in.

"Hey, Steph," Selina said. "Uhh… Settle a bet, okay? If I train you how to fight, you're not gonna do anything stupid like becoming a superhero, are you?"

A moment passed, laden with suspense. Until Stephanie Brown, incredulity in her voice, cried out:

"Fuck yes, I'm becoming a superhero!"

Selina slowly brought her head out of the doorway, and closed the door. She started her journey back to her barstool as though she were under sentence of death, dragging her feet. She held up a finger to silence Batman before he actually said anything.

"Not… One… Word. Not until I sit down."

She eventually sat down, her right hand propping her head up.

"You could just rescind the offer to train her," Batman said. "But now that I said that before you thought of it, you have to train her, because you can't let me be right about anything."

Selina groaned. "Oh, God damn you straight to Hell."

She straightened out her flannel shirt, and only now did she deign to look at him.

"Alright," Selina said. "I know you have a big judgemental speech lined up about potentially putting a kid in danger. Let's hear it."

"I have no judgement for you."

"Bullshit."

"Two Robins, remember?"

"Well, that's just it, isn't it?" Selina asked. "Everything's fine when you do it. When someone else does it, that's when the Batarangs come out."

Batman didn't have anything to say to that. He closed his eyes, and the images of dozens dead, all wearing his symbol, flashed before him by the time he opened them.

When he did, he saw that some of the defiance had gone out of Selina's face. It was replaced with concern, which was something she wasn't used to feeling, and she looked like she was trying to blink her way out of the sensation.

"Are you alright?" Selina asked.

No.

He wasn't.

"I know I have work I need to do on myself," Batman said. "I know… that I have been wrong to an extent that even I am not aware of, and what I will have to say about myself by the time this is over genuinely terrifies me."

Selina looked stunned. Batman had admitted both fault and fear. And he knew that if Dick, Barbara, Alfred, or Lucius were here, their faces would have borne the same look.

"But I'm not wrong about this," Batman said. "If you tell someone as young as she is that one person can make a difference, she will believe you. Give her the skills and the resources to work for the common good, and she will. I know you don't like thinking good things about yourself. But if Stephanie Brown, using the skills you teach her, stops one mugging. Retrieves one stolen purse. Saves one life… Then that's good you brought into the world. Add enough of that up, and it really won't matter what you think about yourself at all."

Batman took a step forward. "I've told you more times than I can count that you are a good person with a lot to offer the world. Not to control you or manipulate you, but because it's the truth. And you keep proving me right, but you keep telling me I'm wrong. Because you know that acting on what you know is true about Selina Kyle is a hell of a lot scarier than the alternative."

"What's the alternative?" Selina asked.

"Hating yourself," Batman said. "Time passes, things change, seasons fade in and fade out, but the part of you that doesn't like what you see when you look in the mirror is always there. It never changes. It looks like a friend after a while. Or a blanket you can wrap yourself up in when the pressure gets to you. But the thing about bravery is, it isn't about a lack of fear. It's about being absolutely petrified, and doing what needs to be done anyway."

Batman, raised his hands, and took off his cowl. Bruce Wayne levelled his gaze at her.

"Are you brave?" Bruce asked. "Can you walk away from the pain you keep yourself in so you can tell yourself you're in control? Can you see what I see when I look at you?"

Bruce didn't know how Selina was going to respond. Given ample time to mull the matter over, however, he could not have predicted what actually happened.

Selina Kyle folded her arms, and raised the eyebrow she always raised when she spotted a fool.

"You go first."

There was a small hatch built into the air conditioning unit on the roof of Giorgio's.

And wouldn't you know it? It was Nightwing's size.

He landed on the red tile floor in the darkened kitchen without making a sound. He readied his escrima sticks and silently padded to the dining area.

Nightwing saw overturned tables and shattered glasses when he got there. The place was lit solely by the small red tiki lamps behind the bar.

And the room was silent.

But in that silence, Nightwing sensed something. Felt it in the air.

"You're good," Nightwing said. "I didn't even hear you."

"Thank you," said the woman behind him. "I know you are not here to kill me, but otherwise, are you here to visit violence upon my person?"

"I'm here for the lunch specials," Nightwing said. "I hear you guys make mean chicken parmesan, but you don't appear to be open."

The sound of a sheathing sword behind him. "The famous Dick Grayson wit."

"My wit is famous?"

A beautiful brunette with bruises on her face walked past Nightwing with a sword on her hip. She headed straight for the bar.

"Only as the less preferable option to death," she said. "Hell is more appealing than your jokes."

Nightwing sheathed his escrima sticks and put his hand on his hip.

"So," Nightwing said. "Leather get-up, sexy accent, you know my real name, and you don't like me. You're one of Talia's little minions."

"My name is Kasha," she said as she picked out a bottle of wine from the shelf behind the bar. "Aperitif?"

"I don't drink," Nightwing said.

Kasha looked at the bottle of wine as she absent-mindedly retrieved a glass from the rack above the bar.

"I hear such good things about the 1990 Bordeaux," she said, "and now I have no one to share it with."

She poured herself a glass.

"Hell of a cemetery you have out front," Nightwing said.

"And how else is one to get the attention of a costumed crimefighter in Gotham City without such extreme measures?"

"You took out your own people to flag me or Batman down?"

Kasha took another sip. "Oh, my people were coming to kill me," Kasha said. "I just left them outside."

"And why are the rest of Talia's guard coming to kill you?"

Kasha coughed. "Because I betrayed her," she said. "And I plan to do so again."

Nightwing walked up to the bar. "And how did you betray her the first time?"

Kasha pinched the bridge of her nose. "I was at my mistress' side for over half my lifetime," she said. "Thirteen years. I was her right hand. And do you know what she did?"

Nightwing shrugged.

Kasha coughed again, and took another sip. "She sent me to Kyle Security for grunt work."

Nightwing's face hardened. "You're the one who killed all those people?"

She scowled. "I was with one of Hill's idiots," Kasha said. "He killed all of those people. I was to lead them, to kill Selina Kyle if I could, and be apprehended by the police if I could not."

"But you booked," Nightwing said. "You picked Plan C."

"I am from a time," Kasha said, "when my mistress would collect my head herself, if I failed. I found waiting in a prison cell… personally demeaning. But my mistress is in love with your mentor. A man who has known my mistress for less time than I have. Yet I was the one who was forsaken, and not he."

"There's no accounting for taste," Nightwing said.

Kasha wiped sweat from her forehead, and coughed. "I know you do not mean it the way I do, but indeed, you are correct."

Nightwing was under the growing impression that something about this entire situation was off.

"And how do you plan on betraying Talia a second time?"

Her response was broken up by coughing. "F-funny you-should…"

Kasha's knees slid out from under her, and she collapsed behind the bar. Nightwing ran to her, leaping over the bar as she did so. When he saw her on the floor, bloody foam was coming out of the corner of her mouth.

Nightwing knew that the members of the League of Assassins kept poison capsules in fake back molars, to crack in unfavorable situations like abandonment or interrogation. That must be what she had done. Nightwing had a couple of antidotes on him, but those were antidotes to conventional poisons. The poisons the League used, however, were a trade secret.

There was nothing he could do.

"The construction site… in The Cauldron…" Kasha said. "It leads… to the tunnels…"

"Why did you do this?"

"I do not.. fear… my mistress' vengeance… but I fear… Black Manta… Stop him…He will… lead her astray."

Kasha reached out with a trembling hand, and touched Nightwing's cheek.

"I die… with Bordeaux on my lips… and beholding... a beautiful man…"

"I thought you said you hated my jokes," Nightwing said.

Kasha managed a weak smile as she expired.

"I did not say… things… were perfect…"

Bruce was still trying to figure out what to say to Selina in response, when he heard Nightwing's voice in his cowl.

Batman put his cowl on as Selina got up and walked into the bedroom. He put his finger to his ear.

"Nightwing online," Nightwing said. "All hands report in."

"Batman online," Batman said.

The others started chiming in.

"Renard online."

"Oracle online."

"Penny One online."

"Report," Batman said.

"I investigated a restaurant on Bleake Island," Nightwing said. "Kasha, one of Talia's bodyguards, gave me a location. A construction site in The Cauldron on the mainland that leads to some tunnels. I'm en route in the Batwing."

"Can we trust this information?" Alfred asked.

"She poisoned herself for betraying Talia," Nightwing said. "That's not the act of someone with a stake in how the game ends. Batman… We've got him. We've got Hill."

"Excellent," Batman said. "Renard, have the modifications been made to the new Batmobile?"

Lucius sighed. "Yes," he said.

"Good," Batman said. "Activate the protocol."

Lucius sighed again. "Very well. Oracle, if you'd be so kind as to meet me at the elevator? Oh, and do be so kind as to put in your contacts."

"Sure," Oracle said. "Wait, what? Why?"

The entirety of Wayne Tower's floor 103 was devoted to being the office of Bruce Wayne. And Bruce Wayne, in his foresight, had had a series of suites built on this floor if anyone needed to stay there for a prolonged period of time.

Like, say, a siege by the technically undead former mayor of Gotham City, for example.

This array of suites on the top floor of Wayne Tower were where Barbara Gordon and Lucius Fox had been living since the morning after Hamilton Hill took over the city. They stayed there alongside Alfred Pennyworth, Lucius' wife Tanya, and Lucius' three children, Luke, Tamora, and Tiffany.

Barbara met Lucius at the elevator next to Bruce's office. She was wearing a light purple leather jacket over a green t-shirt. She had knee-high leather boots over a pair of skinny jeans.

And she was wearing her contact lenses, which itched like hell.

As soon as she got to the elevator, Lucius wordlessly held out a pair of brown leather gloves to her.

"Put them on," he said.

Barbara took them, confusion reigning on her face.

"Lucius," Barbara said, "what the hell are we doing down there?"

"You'll see," Lucius said, "and you will know that I do not approve."

Barbara wheeled in behind him, and Lucius hit the button for the sub basement.

Where the WayneTech Applied Sciences lab was located.

The place where Batman got all of his wonderful toys.

After a long, silent, and anxious elevator ride down, the doors opened upon Crazed Vigilante Valhalla. The walls of the surprisingly cramped room were decked with every gadget, gizmo, knick-knack, tchotchke, contraption, gimmick, and widget that made Batman a feared and formidable adversary to the criminal element that dwelt within Gotham City.

"You know," Barbara said as she wheeled into the lab behind Lucius, "I've only been down here the one time, and that was when you brought Alfred and me here a couple of days ago. I didn't get a chance to just stop and… admire everything."

"You want a job down here," Lucius said, "you can have one. It's rewarding, doing this, but it's a pain in the ass doing it by myself."

"I'm a coder," Barbara said. "Engineering's not really my bag. Any work I can do for you, I can do from home."

"Then do it from home," Lucius said. "A paycheck's a paycheck."

Barbara smiled. "I'll think about it. So what's this thing that you don't approve of?"

Lucius took a small device out of his green tweed jacket.

"This is."

He pressed a button on the device, and the rear walls of the lab slid back…

...revealing the new Batmobile, resting on a platform next to the giant tunnel that led to that exit a half a mile away from Wayne Manor.

Except, to Barbara, it didn't look like any of the other Batmobiles she'd seen. It looked more like…

"It's a friggin' tank," Barbara said.

"Nine inch plating," Lucius said. "Made of an alloy consisting of titanium… and Nth metal."

Barbara looked at Lucius in shock. " Nth metal?"

Lucius rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. "A gift from the people of Thanagar in appreciation of Batman's aid in defeating Vandal Savage four years ago. If this planet dies in nuclear hellfire, the only things that will survive the apocalypse are cockroaches, Keith Richards, and that Batmobile. Two separate traversal modes; pursuit and combat. It's decked out with all the non-lethal riot-supressing goodies a Bat could hope for. Options for both stealth and submersible water travel. Two front seats. Plenty of legroom."

"No cup holders?"

"There are certain things mankind will never have the technology for," Lucius said with a wink.

Barbara smiled.

"The fact of the matter," Lucius said, his voice taking on a gravity, "is that we are outnumbered. We have Batman, we have Nightwing, we might have Catwoman, but we can't depend on her. We need to neutralize Hamilton Hill, Talia al Ghul, and Black Manta. We have to save Zatanna before it's too late, and there are too many variables for Bruce and Dick to do that in a manner that we can predict, in a manner we can bet on."

Barbara's smile faded as it occurred to her.

"Lucius, don't tell me you're going out there to fight bad guys."

He looked down at her and smiled. "Oh, I'm not… You are."

Barbara literally felt herself going pale. "What?"

Lucius pressed another button on the device he had. The side plates of the Batmobile slid back, revealing the driver's seat, which slid out (armrests included), and turned so that it was facing her.

"It's wheelchair accessible," Lucius said. "After a fashion. Your mission is to neutralize Hill's forces within the Batmobile and locate Zatanna with the Batmobile's sonar functions so that either Batman or Nightwing can intercept. You'll radio instructions to the one who opts to disconnect her from Tetch's mind-control apparatus and the LexCorp targeting system. You won't have to leave the car at all."

The enormity of the situation was still settling in on her. "But… But you still disapprove?"

"So many things can go wrong," Lucius said. "Oracle is too valuable an asset to waste in the field."

"And here I was, thinking you liked me, and didn't want to see me getting hurt."

"I can hold two ideas in my head at the same time," Lucius said, smiling warmly at her.

Barbara smiled back, and examined the inside of the Batmobile from her vantage point. Her smile faded.

"There's no throttle on the steering wheel that I can see," Barbara said, and looked down at her legs. "Uhhh, in case you haven't noticed."

"That's what this is for," Lucius said, and he walked to a nearby table that held a lone, plain, white cardboard box. He removed the lid, took out what was inside, and presented it to her.

Barbara was still reeling from the enormity of the situation, so much so that it took her a second to realize that Lucius was handing her…

"A Playstation 4 controller?"

Lucius smiled, and said "Batman told me you play Need for Speed."

Barbara chuckled.

"He also told me that I should give you the opportunity to say no."

Barbara looked at him with a smile.

"Lucius… Gimme the pad."

He grinned, and handed her the controller. She put it in the right pocket of her leather jacket.

Barbara wheeled over to the the inviting driver's seat of the new Batmobile. It took a little bit of awkward positioning, but she finally moved from her wheelchair to the seat, which reeled back, and deposited her inside, the plates of the vehicle closing behind her.

As she got the controller out of her pocket, she noticed yet another white cardboard box in the passenger's seat. She placed the controller in her lap.

Her hands moved toward the box, and opened it, and what she saw stopped her from breathing.

It wasn't the three Batarangs inside (color coded, one being explosive, one being electric, and one being filled with a viscous, quickly hardening foam). Nor was it the grapnel gun. No, those were put there by Bruce in case of an emergency, and she'd have been surprised if they hadn't been there.

No. What took Barbara Gordon's breath away was the cowl.

It was completely identical to her old one, its plates spread out, waiting to wrap around her head.

Of course, Bruce would want her wearing something out there in the field to conceal her identity. But… wow.

Barbara placed the cowl on her head. She pressed the side plates, and it formed a perfect fit on her skull. It was only now that she found out how much she truly, truly missed this. She knew she was formidable as Oracle, but...

A voice came into her ear.

"Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are, Renard," Barbara said.

"Good," Lucius said. "Just press that little PS button on the controller, and we'll get started."

She did, and the Batmobile came alive beneath her, first with a loud roar, and then slowly quieting, until it was almost silent.

"Readings look good," Lucius said. "There's a field about a quarter of a mile north of the tunnel exit. Wait there. The Batwing will pick the car up and drop it off at the location Nightwing provided. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Barbara said, her words leaving her mouth in a distracted gasp.

"Then she's all yours…"

She slightly pressed the R2 shoulder button on the controller, and the Batmobile edged forward. She pressed down with a little more force, and Barbara Gordon…

...and Batgirl…

...tore out of the lab, and down the tunnel.