DC Revolutions Presents
Batgirl # 2
Matters of Circumstance Part 1
Explosive Interpretations
Location unknown
The six year old girl who would one day be named both Cassandra Cain and Batgirl awoke from her cot and stretched to awaken her muscles. Fifty pushups and sixty sit-ups were required to get her body started on an average day. After that was done, the young girl did a hand stand, and did her pushups like that for a half hour.
Properly warmed up to begin the day, she entered the main room of what she considered, by in large, her world where the man she saw as her God, Cain, was waiting. Oh sure, she knew there was something bigger outside the walls of this house (some trees and other lesser trainers), but that never really seemed to matter. Her father, her training and this house were her entire life. Her father greeted her as he always did in the morning, with violence. Punches, kicks, nerve strikes, these were their means of discussion.
Today, however, was slightly different than usual, as her father had a trick ready he'd been planning for some time.
He attacked with a right when the past three weeks, he led with his left. Surprised by this sudden shift, the girl who would be Batgirl hesitated, barely sidestepping the attack and not being fast enough to avoid a snap kick that hit her in the center of her chest, expelling the air from her lungs. This was followed up by a flattened palm that struck her nose, breaking the bones within. The little girl of six years fell to the mat as Cain looked on disapprovingly.
There were no tears. Violence was a part of her life for longer than she could remember. All she felt was disappointment that Cain might have actually gotten the better of her. She liked making Cain proud of her, and to do that she needed to hurt him, she needed to win. Violence was love. Where other children might kiss their fathers to express fondness, she would deck hers, just like he would in return.
And it was her own fault after all, for not always being ready. He only wanted to help her.
Pressing her eyes shut, she pushed off the mat with all her strength. Her feet slammed into Cain's knee that then collapsed under his own weight. Now that her father was on bended knee, the young girl jumped up, grabbed her father's right arm and twisted it behind his back, not stopping until she heard a -snap!-. Cain grunted, but she didn't stop there. She leapt upon her father's shoulder and with both hands, chopped the sides of his neck, hitting key pressure points. A normal six year wouldn't have been able stun a man twice her size, but she was different. The young girl had excellent training, amazing conditioning and perfect breeding. Cain dropped like a log into unconsciousness.
The six year looked at Cain. Her ribs were bruised, her eyes were starting to swell shut because of her broken nose and blood freely trickled down her face but none of that mattered to her. She won, and that would make her father proud. That was her whole reason for living.
This was what constituted an average day for her.
That would all change little over a year later.
She was seven now, and Cain decided it was time for his baby girl to graduate. He dressed her up in a nice pink dress, put her hair in ponytails and presented her with a picture of her target. To the young girl, the man was just another practice dummy.
It would almost be a decade later until she learned the words that accompanied her act. 'Ripping out a man's throat', 'assassinating a drug lord', 'murder'. These words meant nothing to the little girl who watched a man's body screaming in terror, then saw nothingness overtake him.
She realized too late that this man was nothing like her practice dummies. She felt something inside her break, watching the blood trickle out of her now dead target onto the desk, feeling the wet, sticky flesh in her hands and underneath her nails.
She couldn't talk, she couldn't read but she understood body language perfectly. And today was her first experience with the concepts of moral right and wrong by way of terror. Until today, terror had been a very alien concept to her.
She knew then, somehow that her actions were so very, very wrong. That she had taken something precious she could never give back. Her father stood behind her, smiling at her and her blood soaked hands. He was happy, glowing at her, because of the terror his daughter caused. This made the little girl very mad indeed. Cassandra struck her father in anger for the first time in her life, and fled from him using every skill she knew. She ran and ran across continents and oceans, cities and forests. Movement was the only constant she had. As she ran and ran, she grew, taller and stronger, her blood soaked dress becoming the rags she had stolen when she was a street urchin, then becoming the black ebony uniform of Batgirl.
A black wall appeared in front of her with a well known Bat-shaped embalm on it. For a moment, Cassandra felt safe. This man would protect her from Cain and under his protection, she learned things besides running. She learned to talk, what it was like to sleep in one place and provide the closest thing to real family she could have. But slowly, she could sense this barrier of protection turn against her. She blinked, and a thousand accusing fingers were pointing at her, each belong to another hero. Each were chanting a single word that echoed through her young mind.
"Murderer!"
&&&
Gotham City
Cassandra Cain's eyes snapped open, her heart pounding wildly and sweat covering her like a second skin. It took her a moment to realize she was still in the apartment Batman had set her up in, sleeping in her bed.
She lay there for a moment, thinking. Did she just have a dream or a nightmare? So used to guilt that plagued her, Cassandra often felt uncomfortable without it. It was less since her battle with Shiva, but it was there all the same. Guilt over her killing was simply another bad fact of life, just like her monthly cycle or the occasional lucky shot.
Cassandra rose up from her bed and quickly dressed. Dark pants, dark socks, dark T-Shirt, well, her wardrobe wasn't the most diverse. She preferred to always be prepared to go into action and dark clothes were good for stealth, at least that's how she justified it to others. The simple fact was that with zero interests and knowledge of almost anything outside crime fighting, cartoons and television; she just didn't know what she should wear other than what she already had.
The apartment Batman had given her wasn't much different. There was a TV, some basic dishes and furniture, and that was it. Even though Cassandra had been living here for some time, it still looked as though it had just been rented. Alfred constantly suggested decorations when he delivered groceries, but never told her what kind of decorations to get. It really annoyed that everyone just expected her to know certain things, like decorations, not eating cold chicken for breakfast or don't punch out that lady who sprays you with stinky stuff at the mall. Cassandra was painfully aware of the fact that the only time she ever knew she did something wrong socially was after it happened, which was only all the time.
Which in a way made her grateful for the dark costume secreted behind the full length mirror in her walk in closet. She swung it open to reveal an ebony vault with a key pad. Punching in the code, Cassandra withdrew her costume and placed it in a specially made gym back, carefully concealing it while barely paying attention. Precise movements and actions were as natural were natural as breathing to the young woman. If anyone looked inside the bag, they would find nothing suspicious.
Not that that was any real concern. Cassandra had few friends, all of whom knew of her singular lifestyle as Batgirl. Oracle had been trying for some time to encourage her to do something with herself other than fight crime, but like everyone else never explained just what that something might be. Sadly, being raised as a human weapon didn't leave Cassandra much imagination outside of combat.
Closing the door to her apartment, Cassandra made her way downstairs to the garage. She ignored the occasional stares of the other tenets, who always thought it was weird they never saw her until about an hour before dark. They considered her a curiosity, though she couldn't blame them. There wasn't anything she could really talk to them about in regards to what she really did at night, though that didn't keep them from guessing. Cassandra thought it was best for her self esteem that she didn't know and didn't want to know what 'streetwalker', 'hooker' or 'whore' meant. The prostitute whispers were hurtful enough.
She passed a young boy reading a comic book, and for a moment the differences between her life and everyone else's felt even sharper. She could outfight the deadliest men and women in the world, break into the most secure buildings in the world, but her reading ability was below that of a five year old. Cassandra walked just a little bit faster to escape the reminder of her inferiority to the majority of the rest of the world.
Once she reached the garage, she got on her bike and peeled out as fast as the throttle would let her. She always felt the same amount of relief when she left her 'normal life' behind so that she could pull down her mask and continue her crusade as Batgirl. Normally, she would head out of the city towards the woods that concealed back-roads to the Batcave, where she would get her nightly patrol assignment.
This day was a little different. Cassandra needed a personal detour. After a half hour of driving, she pulled into a gravel lot and parked her bike. She moved through the cemetery quickly, looking for one grave in particular. Cassandra paused only to pick up a sunflower, and wished she could have donned her mask for this task. Sometimes, in ways she couldn't quite explain, Cassandra found the mask of Batgirl empowering.
Finally, she found the tombstone she was looking for. She recognized it by sight only, and if she were asked to read what was engraved underneath the name, she would have been unable to do so.
'Stephanie Brown. Taken too soon'
To Cassandra, Stephanie Brown was better known as the purple clad vigilante Spoiler. Daughter of the fifth rate villain Cluemaster, Steph fought crime to make up for her father's evil, to help others while dating Robin, with whom she'd fallen in love. Steph sought Cassandra out for training, and the two grew close. Or at least that's what Cassandra let herself believe.
Robin once said the two were alike because both wanted to make up for the evil and harm that their father's had caused. That wasn't true at all. Cassandra only wanted to wash the blood from her hands, to redeem herself, to right her greatest wrong. She didn't care what happened to her father compared to that. As much as it pained her to admit, Cassandra still loved her father. The only sin she felt weighing her down was her own.
Spoiler, on the other hand, just wanted to lash out at the world for how her father mistreated and neglected her. Criminals were just the easiest target. Once she moved past that, she tried endlessly to prove herself to the Bat-clan, instead of focusing on the innocents. That was why Batman never liked her, no matter how hard he tried to make her a better crime fighter. She wasn't focused on the innocents, just on something less important. Batman saw this, as did Oracle and Nightwing. Robin didn't see it because he loved her, and Cassandra chose not to acknowledge it so that she might have a friend. Spoiler's determination to prove herself as a hero after many failures eventually led to her stealing secret emergency plans from Batman himself to unite all organized crime in Gotham under one banner. The result was a massive gang war that claimed Spoiler as one of its countless victims.
That wasn't the worst of it. Batgirl had personally seen Spoiler during the gang war. Almost instantly, she knew that her friend was somehow responsible for what was happening. The guilt and deception in her body language was obvious to the both of them. But still Batgirl tried to be a friend, warning Spoiler home in the hopes that she would be safe and protected. She could have dragged Spoiler to Batman himself. She could have beaten the information out of her (and did she ever want to). But no, she tried to protect her friend and was rewarded with her needless death.
Perhaps that was what made Spoiler's death so hard. Spoiler was only nice to Batgirl because she wanted something in return. Steph promised to teach her to read in exchange for training, but never once tried to follow through. Spoiler was maybe Cassandra's one friend in the world, and really, she wasn't much of one. Cassandra set the flower down and walked away, never fighting the tears that slid down her face.
&&&
Once she reached the Batcave, things were different. She felt genuine happiness and comfort while she was in this dreary, damp and dark place secreted away from the rest of the world. It allowed her to be herself, or at least what she saw herself as. Batman was nowhere to be seen, although Robin was at the Bat-computer, typing away. Even though he was trained to fight in total darkness and sense the stealthiest of foes, he hadn't yet realized Cassandra had entered the cave.
Cassandra could have been blind and she still would have sensed the anger coming from Tim Drake, the third Robin. Life had not been nice to him lately. His father was killed by Captain Boomerang, and lost two of his close friends in the recent gang war. He was tied up, or was it wound up…? She asked herself, pretty tightly. Cass had never been too close to Robin, even though they admired the same man. He was intimidated by her assassin background, and he intimidated Cass in other areas. Still, she wanted to help, and thought she knew the perfect way.
So, standing only a few feet behind him, Robin still unaware of her presence as he went about his case work, Cassandra dropped her pants.
"Robin."
Tim Drake spun one hundred and eighty degrees in his chair, startled that someone had snuck up on him. And he spun back around just as quickly when he saw the fearsome Cassandra Cain in just her bra and underwear. Tim vowed to talk to Barbara about teaching Cass the finer points of social graces as he burned eye holes into the keyboard.
"Jeezus Cass, you want to give me a heart attack?" Tim snapped.
"Am dressed," Cassandra Cain was now wearing her uniform, full body black suit with cape, hollow Bat symbol on her chest and the area around her mouth stitched closed like that of a scarecrow, "spar."
Robin went back to his typing, "I'm not in the mood to get my butt handed to me, Cass. Maybe later."
"Go easy," Cass punched Tim lightly on the shoulder in a 'don't make me drag you kicking and screaming' sort of way, "promise."
"Fine," he sighed. Tim saved his work and followed Cass to the mat. With her standing on the opposite end, he mentally prepared himself for combat. He didn't even try to suppress the anger that had been bubbling beneath the surface lately. He had work to do, and here Batgirl was just pulling him away from that so they could 'play' which usually meant sucking mat. Like life was some game. Like what they did was just a past time. Just what was with this bitch anyways?
With anger like that beating through his chest, it was no surprise Robin attacked first. Cass blocked a left hook, and was struck with a kick to the stomach. Robin fought with every last ounce of skill he had, knowing he'd need it just to hope to keep up with Batgirl, practice or not. If people outside the Bat-clan knew about her ability, Tim was certain Batgirl would be a legend.
But that didn't seem to be the case at the moment. Tim scored a solid left hook to Batgirl's head. Batgirl barely blocked a sweeping kick with her wrists before a follow through kick smashed into her stomach. With two solid hits against his foe, Robin instantly realized what Cassandra was really doing.
"You're letting me hit you."
Cassandra looked at him innocently, "Yes. Is helpful?"
Tim shook his head in confusion, "What the hell…I mean, what are you talking about?"
"Want you to…feel better. Get rid off…anger," she explained with precise logic.
Robin's body language was one of shock and confusion, which in turn confused Batgirl, "By hitting you? Cass…"
Speechless, Tim Drake just walked away disgusted, both with himself and what Batgirl wanted him to do. Batgirl watched him walk away, wanting to say something. But she found herself at a loss for words (not too uncommon) as she realized with regret she once again had no idea what she did wrong.
A reassuring hand fell upon her shoulder, and even though she didn't sense the man coming she still felt a little better. After all, there was only one man she knew of who could sneak up on her.
The Batman.
To the criminal element, The Batman was wraith of cunning and skill. Rumors about his true nature, human, meta or even demon persisted despite his lengthy career. There were those who feared the Bat so much they shrunk from any shadow just for peace of mind. Those that didn't fear his fists and threats, feared his investigative ability or cunning mind. Batman matched wits with some of the most insane geniuses, or lethally unpredictable foes night in night out. There was no locked room that Batman couldn't stroll into, and no secret he couldn't unearth or deduce with only the slightest bit of information. To criminals big and small he was unbridled terror. Once The Batman had you in his sights, a prison cell became a cold, hard fact.
To young Cassandra Cain, however, Batman was something completely different.
She didn't see him as a father figure, despite the whispers of others said. The darkness that seemed to radiate from him was a shining beacon to the young girl. She saw him as something bigger, greater than a mere father. She would have pledged herself to him if all he did was shield her from her father and gave her a home. But he didn't stop there. He gave her a costume, no, purpose, like his, one that allowed her redeem herself. So much better, greater, than any father could ever hope to be.
"Only wanted…to help."
"I know," Batman responded evenly, instantly relieving Cassandra's guilt. With the slightest of gestures, he silently signaled for Batgirl to follow, "the coming months will be difficult for Robin, and we need to be careful how we approach them."
To Cassandra, that combined with his body language translated politely into 'let me handle Robin', which was fine with her. She wanted to help, not make things worse (again). And Batman could handle anything.
"And Cassandra?"
Batman's face become stone cold. He employed what Nightwing and Robin jokingly referred to as 'The Look', that piercing glare that made criminals confess to the most serious of crimes, sent fear rippling through the most seasoned warrior and made even some of the greatest heroes take notice. 'The Look' was naturally accompanied by 'The Voice', a low and gravelly tone that sounded like Satan himself had just arisen. To Cassandra though, this all just meant that Batman had something especially important to say, "Don't you ever again allow anyone, and I mean anyone… to hit you to make themselves feel better or to vent their anger on your body. Are we clear?" he finished through gritted teeth.
Cassandra paused. She vaguely remembered Oracle once debating with someone on her computer, about the fact that women should be allowed to do what they want with their bodies, though the whole row against wade admittedly confused her. Oracle was for it, and Cassandra agreed with what she understood.
Still, this was Batman.
"As glass," Cassandra answered.
The two leapt into the Batmobile, and sped out of the cave like a NASCAR leaving pit row. Batgirl allowed the scenery pass by at breakneck speeds as she attempted to muster her courage for what she knew she had to ask next.
"Why?"
Batman didn't have to ask for clarification. On some levels, the two of them were closer than any other members of the Batclan.
"Following Spoiler's…"
"Not her!" snapped Batgirl, both angry and defensive.
"I never said you were," Batman evenly replied as he stared straight ahead, "As I was saying, following Spoiler's overzealous actions and the recent events concerning Robin and Oracle's departure, I feel it's best to reevaluate my… relationships and make adjustments where needed."
Batgirl sunk back in her seat, somewhat satisfied with his answer. But just underneath the surface though, she was deeply concerned. What if Batman believed in her murder while he was reevaluating her? Oracle knew about her single kill, and had secretly told her Batman didn't believe it. Killing was one thing The Batman never accepted, and murder was a thousand times worse. As this was all she had, any threat to her way of life naturally made the young woman terribly uncomfortable, if not downright scared.
After a silent ride, Batman pulled into a dark alley and the duo disembarked. Without a sound between them, they scaled the nearby fire escape until they reached the roof. From there, the two crime fighters began leaping from one roof to another. Cassandra had little idea where they were going exactly, but she never questioned Batman. She respected the fact that he never took a single unnecessary movement, or needless action. Like her, his every action was carefully calculated for maximum effect. Batgirl could see that, even if no one else wanted to.
Finally, they came upon their final building and the Dark Knight motioned for Cassandra to be silent, more out of habit than need. Pointing towards the edge, Batgirl poked her head over and saw a half dozen armed men keeping watch on the roof. As the roof she was on was twelve feet above them with an alley eight feet wide, they never thought to look up.
"They're protecting Zeiss. Apparently, Black Mask is rewarding him for his assistance during the gang war, making him a top enforcer," Batman explained in a passive voice, but Batgirl could see the anger in his body. He held himself responsible for Spoiler's death, even if it was Black Mask who killed her.
Cassandra could relate. Batgirl briefly felt anger bubble up within her chest just thinking about it. Black Mask was the one who killed Spoiler. Were it not for Batman's edict to leave Black Mask to him and him alone, the young vigilant would have torn the criminal element of Gotham in two looking for him.
Batman handed his young a special devise he'd brought along for this mission. He spoke to Batgirl silently about what he expected of her, and what she was to do. Cassandra understood perfectly, remaining equally silently.
This was why she loved the mask, Cassandra realized. She had a place in the world, where she knew what to expect and others knew what to expect of her. Anything that was asked of her, she could do and do well.
With a glance she carefully appraised the situation as she vaulted over the ledge. Four men in each corner and two talking to one another by the stair well. Landing silently next to the two jabbering criminals, Cassandra grabbed the back of their heads and smashed their faces together before her presence registered, sending them into slumber land.
She let them fall noisily to the ground, alerting the men atop the roof. The four sentries started yelling, but the threats were so much white noise to her. Only one man on the roof was armed with a gun, the rest with chains or clubs. Batgirl's first choice of targets was obvious.
The armed thug saw Cassandra racing towards him at fifteen feet. By the time he screwed up his courage to aim his weapon and fire, she was at eight feet. But by the time his finger pulled the trigger, Batgirl was already in the air. She flew over the man almost completely, her knee smashing his nose while her momentum carried her over him. Made of slightly stronger stuff than the average punk, the man swung his gun around in the vain hope of catching the young girl with her back turned. Black gloved hands grabbed the barrel, and swung it up and across the man's face, sending him into unconsciousness.
The remaining three stood side by side as one, pooling their courage in the hopes they could do together what none of them could hope to do apart.
They attacked as a wall of men. Cassandra kicked the man in the middle in the gut. As he went down, she put her hands forward and jumped atop the man's back. Balancing only on her hands, she swung both legs to the right and took out thug number one, and did the same to thug number three. Cassandra pushed off her human platform, landing in front of the wheezing man.
There was no special malice or even hate as her booted foot flew almost straight up, snapping the man's head back while blood exploded out of his mouth. To Cassandra, beating up people, breaking bones and tearing muscles, was largely an impersonal thing. It was just something she did in the process of protecting innocents, to save lives. It was as natural as breathing to her. Her foes were just minor obstacles.
By now, over a dozen obstacles were starting to spill out of the roof entrance. They were armed with chains, knives and nail ridden baseball bats. No guns, both because they would be useless in a mob like this, and because there wasn't a criminal in Gotham who didn't know how he felt about those weapons. Guns were only worth the extra pain they brought when they could be used freely, that was the unspoken mantra of the Gotham under world.
Batgirl moved into action instantly. The first thug to reach her swung his chain hoping to take her head off. Batgirl easily ducked the swing and slammed her flattened palm into the man's kidneys. She plucked the chain out of his fist as he felt backwards and cracked it like a whip, disarming one man of his lead pipe. Swinging her stolen weapon above her head, Cassandra bought herself some quick breathing room.
&&&
From his vantage point, The Batman watched his young charge go about her work. He nodded approvingly as a drop kick disabled the lead man. He found the young woman's tactics to be flawless, as she dropped the largest foe in the direction of all the others, tripping them up. Batgirl then smashed her elbow into the thug behind her and backhanded the scum who came at her from the side.
He allowed himself to admire her skill and grace, dominated by conservation. No move was wasted; everything was calculated for maximum effect. Not like Robin, who sometimes tried too hard to perfect a move as it should be completed in a dojo and not actual combat. Not like Nightwing, who for all his years as a crime-fighter still had some showmanship in his style.
Batman knew that one's fighting style reflected something within that person. And that was why he trusted Batgirl like he trusted his right arm. She asked so little of him, he thought, because they were equals in their mission, in their dedication, skill and ideals.
To Batman, she was the perfect soldier. He could turn his back to her at any time and be secure in the knowledge that not only would she be safe, but that she would complete her mission. There were few people in the world over more effective than her. On the streets, at least…
&&&
Three bataranges met the skulls of three thugs. A right hook dropped one man; a snap kick took down another. Cassandra flipped over one man who charged her with a knife. As she came down, she grabbed the man underneath the elbows and using her strength and weight, lifted the man over her head and flung him bodily into another four assailants. Even with that, Batgirl knew she was completely surrounded by at least a dozen remaining thugs. She leaped up onto the top of the roof entrance and crouched there, pulling her cape closer to her slender form.
Her enemies began circling her like vultures, even though so many of their number lay wounded or incapacitated. The young martial artist could only smile at their overconfidence. Reaching into her belt, she produced two specially designed grenades.
Pulling the pins, she lobbed them into the mob that surrounded her. Some of the men stood paralyzed in fear, some scrambled backwards only to trip over their fallen brethren. The two grenades exploded in a thick black smoke, engulfing the entire rooftop.
Batgirl sprang from her perch and landed atop the head of one criminal, and leaped atop the head of another like a frog jumping from one lily pad to another. She was as equally blind as her foes, but in her mind's eye she had already seen their movements and was as confident in their location as she was in the next sunrise. She reached the last stepping stone of a criminal and with all the power her legs could give her, threw herself over the edge of the building.
Cassandra fell towards the pavement head first in a suicide dive. Almost indifferently, she reached behind her back and grabbed her grappling gun. She aimed it towards the building, and fired. Once the titanium steel claws embedded themselves into the stone wall, Batgirl calmly waited several seconds, then pressed the catch button on her grappling gun, the metal swing line instantly pulling taut.
&&&
Jack O'Connor and Peter Mulley were chosen as part of the final guard because they were respected hitmen. The idea was that any night time intruder would wear themselves out with the cannon fodder above and be easier prey. To back them up they had two young wanna be ninja punks and Wallace 'The Wall' McCoy, three hundred and six pounds of mean and muscle. They were the last line of defense to Zeiss' loft and when Batgirl smashed through the hallway window feet first, they reacted like professionals, drawing their guns from their shoulder holsters as they stood side by side hoping to catch their prey in the crossfire.
All the glass from her entrance hadn't landed by the time Batgirl caught the men by their wrists, before they could take aim. Applying pressure to key points, she kept them from putting that final bit of force to the triggers. Her right foot flew up and smashed O'Connor in the face, and then slung to the side to slam Mulley's face, and brought it back to O'Connor's skull. Her foot ricocheted back and forth between them, and by the time they felt the second blow, three more had already landed.
Batgirl allowed the men to fall unconscious to the ground, though she slipped their weapons out of their hands. The two wanna be ninjas charged towards her, and Cassandra slung the guns forward with expert skill. The butts hit the frontal lobes of her foes, dropping them like flies. Batgirl somersaulted past them, focused on her final target.
Wallace 'The Wall' McCoy say Batgirl coming, but by the time his brain got the command to 'panic!', her steel toed booted feet were only inches from his chest. Batgirl struck him with such force that the massive man mountain was lifted off his feet and sent crashing through the oak door that he had been protecting.
Cassandra stepped off the man and quickly scanned her surroundings. The room was large and spacious, just like a dojo, or the old house Cain had trained her in. The far wall was lined with all types of guns, spears and blades, not a single one unknown to the young woman.
Cassandra removed the devise that Batman had given her from her belt and placed in on the floor. She sensed Zeiss behind her, but kept her back to him.
"So, the big bad Bat sent a little girl after me?" Zeiss was a prime physical specimen, well built and well tone body that came from years of mastering martial arts. He was also gifted with special cybernetic implants in his brains and eyes, that combined with metal goggles allowed him to analyze his foes, see their body language and in theory, react faster. The Sicilian enforcer spit on the ground dramatically, "I wonder just how badly I will have to hurt you to get him to fight me himself."
Batgirl slowly stood up and turned around. Now was the time for hate.
"Left arm."
"Excuse me?"
"Think I…will break your…left arm first," Cassandra explained casually.
"Heh, you have spirit," Zeiss brandished a custom made knife, "let me see if I can't cut that out of you."
Batgirl was already moving to her left, Zeiss' attack telegraphed a mile away. She slapped his thrusting motion aside with the back of her right hand, and with her left hand chopped her foe in the throat. To her mild surprise, Zeiss kept fighting, even though he could barely breathe. He flipped the knife over in his hand and swung it backwards. Batgirl ducked underneath the blade and came up with an uppercut to her opponent's stomach that forced him to his knees.
Rather than continue her assault, Cassandra chose to step back for a moment. She wasn't overly concerned about the danger. Even though her foe had special enhancements that made him a threat to others, he was nothing to her. Batgirl could 'see' him as a fighter, his weaknesses and strengths. Like her, he could read body language enabling him to predict his foe's next move. However, his understanding sucked. One move, two, that was it.
He had no idea how to see the patterns of body language, the rhythms that every fighter had, even if they couldn't see it. He couldn't predict his foe's next move blinded folded. He relied too much on a single trick. And because of that, he couldn't pose a threat. Not to her, anyways.
Batgirl put her right foot forward, and rushed towards Zeiss. He saw her coming, too fast to counter attack, but not defend himself. He placed his hands down towards his crotch, thinking she was aiming at his manhood. That's what his cybernetic enhancements told him she was aiming for.
They were wrong.
Batgirl bounded through the air, both her knees smashing into the enforcer's chest. The young Bat then slammed her flattened palm into Zeiss' jaw as she came down followed by a right hook that sent stars swimming through his vision. Batgirl's right arm kept moving and she grabbed his left arm and pivoted her body, swinging him into the far wall where he painfully slammed against the many weapons.
"Stupid…move…batbitch," Zeiss gasped. He grabbed a scythe with a chain and weighted end attached to it, "I've spent hours mastering every weapon here!"
Zeiss began spinning the chain faster and faster over his head and smiled as Batgirl began to step backwards. He'd teach Batman to send his little kids after him. He'd carve this batslut up yet as he savored the look of her…smiling?
Batgirl reached into her utility belt and produced a single, ultra sharp bat shaped throwing star. She casually flung it slicing into the air where it embedded itself into the hand of Zeiss that was spinning the chain. The pain instinctively made the man release his grip, and the chain slid out of his grip and wrapped itself around his neck three times before Zeiss regained his grip, just as Batgirl planned.
Zeiss foolishly dropped his scythe and began clawing at the chain as he struggled for breath. He managed to get some slack around his neck, but felt his blood chill when the chain grew taut.
Standing several feet away with both ends of the chain wrapped around her left hand, was Batgirl.
"No…"
Batgirl pulled the cybernetic killer forward where he met her right fist. Cassandra did this three times before it grew boring. Gripping the chain in both hands, she pulled him forward and kneed him in the stomach several times. With each punch or kick, Zeiss was pushed a little farther back towards the wall that displayed all his proud weapons.
Zeiss, as he struggled to stay conscious, didn't think Batgirl noticed this. Reaching behind with his left hand, he grabbed a V shaped Bundi dagger and thrust it forward for Batgirl's slim gut. With speed and grace, Batgirl sidestepped the weapon while wrapping the remaining length of her chain around her vicious foe's arm twice.
"What…did I say…about your left arm?"
Zeiss was paralyzed in fear and anticipation. Given how she'd wrapped the chain around his arm, Zeiss knew he couldn't move his arm quickly without snapping his neck or at least choking himself.
So he screamed especially loud when the flattened palm of Cassandra's right hand slammed into the joint of his left arm. Muscles tore and boned snapped as Zeiss' arm twisted into an awkward, unnatural form. Cracking the chain like a whip, Cassandra reset the arm into its natural (but still broken) position. The wounded killer dropped to one knee, cradling his broken arm to his side.
"I'll…I'll kill you…"
Cassandra stepped over his right shoulder, placing his right arm between her legs, "Right arm now."
Zeiss wouldn't have been able to react fast enough if he was in perfect health. Grabbing her foe's remaining unbroken arm firmly; she pulled it straight up until she heard a familiar –snap! - and cry of pain. Cassandra stepped away from Zeiss' defeated form, allowing him wallow in his agony.
"Had enough?"
"Kill…kill you," Zeiss could still gasp out futilely.
That was the wrong answer on so many levels.
Batgirl pulled her foot back and punted Zeiss on his chest so hard he was lifted up off his feet. With frightening speed, she grabbed his neck with her left hand and slammed him into his wall of (useless to him) weapons.
"You helped…Black Mask. Black Mask…murdered my friend," her eyes, filled with looks of rage and murder narrowed as she pulled her other hand back, posed to strike, "so why shouldn't I…kill you?"
Zeiss finally snapped, begging and pleading for his life. This girl had humiliated and most certainly wasn't The Bat, who would never murder. The man who murdered so many screamed pathetically as Batgirl struck his neck with her ring and index finger. As darkness consumed him, he honestly never expected to wake up.
But of course, he would. Cassandra vowed never to kill again before she even learned to speak. But she knew how to deceptively convey the threat with expert skill. It also helped that after all this time; she was still an unknown variable to the underworld. Her defeat of Shiva was known to only a select few and even fewer believed it. The enigma that was Batgirl was assisted by the rumors and misinformation both Oracle and Batman secretly spread.
Batgirl stepped away from Zeiss' defeated form and strode to she'd placed Batman's device earlier. It was a small digital recorder that had seen the entire fight. Enforcers like Zeiss depended upon their reputation for work, but come tomorrow almost every current crime lord in Gotham would receive an email with a video attachment of the once fearsome killer being humiliated by a little girl. It would be nothing short of a miracle if Zeiss found work again.
Batman met her at the doorway and returned her grappling gun. He looked at Zeiss and then to his young charge, but said nothing.
In truth, no words were needed. Batgirl could see the approval in his eyes, in his stance. Cassandra felt as though she needed nothing more in the world.
After all, this was an average day for her.
Once they reached the Batmobile, they learned that tonight may not be so average after all. A yellow light blinked across the consul between the two seats. The yellow light indicated a priority transmission from Oracle, the digital wonder. Neither hesitated as they slid into their seats, but both had their issues talking to Oracle.
For Batman, personally, he was in no hurry to speak to her. Oracle had decided to 'take a break' from him and his mission. That anyone would take a break from the mission, however slightly, rankled, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself
For Batgirl, she just didn't want to talk to Oracle at all. They were once and in some ways still close, but Cass held a grudge. The last time they'd talked, Oracle called her stupid (how was she supposed to know reading a manual would shut down a robot?). Friends weren't supposed to say something so hurtful to each other, no matter how true. Crossing her arms and looking out the window, Cassandra nevertheless listened as Batman signaled Oracle he'd returned.
"Go ahead Oracle."
Barbara Gordon's face appeared across the consul. She didn't look particularly happy, her face almost as serious as Batman's.
"Bruce, I just received a tip about a possible robbery at Wayne Enterprises' office building at Tenth and Main for tonight."
Batman's jaw tightened. That particular building was what amounted to a corporation substation that conducted limited industrial experiments and due to a recent move, contained the bulk of the company's considerable human resources department. The social security numbers contained within the databases alone was worth millions.
"Anything else?"
"Nothing concrete. The information's vague at best. My informant was fairly certain that whoever was behind this theft was a meta-human, but like I said my information limited. Be careful."
"Understood, we'll handle it."
"'We'?" Oracle looked to the side, "Cass? How…how are you doing?"
Silently reaching over, Batgirl terminated the connection. Batman raised a curious eye brow.
"That was unnecessary," chided Batman.
"Comm-links are not…chat rooms," Cassandra repeated from memory.
"Exceptions can be made."
"Observed." Replied the teenage heroine in a hushed tone. Batman didn't press the issue further, but he a moment he thought he heard his charge sniffle. He simply dismissed it as his imagination. She was a good soldier, one of the finest he reminded himself.
&&&
Batgirl crept along the darkened hall with ease, no louder snowfall in winter. Batman had sent her ahead to observe the men who were breaking into the 'Human Resources department' (whatever that was) while Batman made his way to the guard station to use the monitors to access the entire threat.
Creeping past the transparent glass door at the entrance to the office, Batgirl scanned her surroundings. There seemed to be an endless row of cubicles with individual several offices at the far end. She could hear voices in one of the offices, and with great care and stealth, began her approach.
&&&
"How much longer will this take, Mr. Borken?"
Adam Borken felt his hands tremble just a little bit more when his employer addressed him. Standing seven foot, six inches Adam was by no means the average computer geek. With muscles to match his brains, he'd forged himself a nice little niche for the Gotham underworld. Whenever a Gotham mastermind needed some hacking done, or some files encrypted, they called Mr. Borken. The Joker, Two-Face, Black Mask, in his macho bravo none of those Rogues scared him too much, but none scared him like his current employer, the Crazy Quilt, did.
Of course, Crazy Quilt, the second…man to bear that name, was nothing like them in so many ways. Almost his entire body was covered in a black, chitinous armor, like a giant beetle with sharp, claw like hands. Only his head was exposed, with pasty white skin that looked like the decayed corpse of a chemo patient while the man himself smelled like an infected, puss filled wound. He was a little shorter than Adam himself, but he didn't doubt his employer could snap him in half with a shrug.
Trembling in fear of a man named Crazy Quilt; Adam would have laughed if he weren't constantly fighting for control of his bladder every second he was around the man.
"Just a few more minutes, sir. I'm transferring the information to a secure database. Once I've finished, your boys on the other end will disconnect the modem, which with a few other tricks will make sure no one will follow the trace."
Batgirl placed her head against the thin plaster wall. With her directional microphone built into her glove and connected to her earpiece, she could hear the two talk as if she were in the room.
"Excellent. That information could be worth millions on the black market, to say nothing of the money I'll make off the futures market."
"I'm nearing completion now, sir."
"Good. Do try to hurry up and keep working," Crazy Quilt swung him arm outwards where it extended like a whip, smashing straight through the wall, barely missing Batgirl's head. As she fell backwards Crazy Quilt exploded through the wall, landing at the end of the hall.
"It appears we have company…"
Batgirl grabbed a batarang as she crouched down. Her foe had deliberately placed himself between her and the exit. For anyone else, that might have been a wise tactic. But Batgirl rarely took retreat into consideration.
She sized up her foe on instinct. Meta-human, from the way he stood most likely super strength, arms that extended like whips and some sort of body armor. Something she'd have to take into consideration when she made her blows. Maybe an acid would work…?
Crazy Quilt moved like lightning, shooting his arms out like fishing hooks. Batgirl easily leapt over them, but realized her mistake too late. Retracting his arms with amazing speed, the diseased villain managed to catch Cassandra and slam her up against his armored body.
"I find it hard to believe you are one of the legendary night stalkers of this city," Quilt grinned, revealing fanged canines like Cassandra had seen on monster movies. Batgirl struggled, and though she was far stronger than the average girl her age, she was still human. Crazy Quilt held her easily as his fangs pierced her ebony uniform and sank into her flesh.
"Yeeargghh!"
Crazy Quilt dropped Batgirl and recoiled in equal parts agony and awe.
"Your kind…are not supposed to be warriors!" he hissed.
"What about my kind?" growled a familiar voice. Crazy Quilt was struck aside with incredible force, toppling the cubicle wall he slammed into. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and wasn't the least bit surprised when he saw who had assaulted him.
"Well, if it isn't the Batman, the not so urban myth," Crazy Quilt stood up, "is it take your daughter to work day?"
The Dark Knight never removed his eyes from his foe, "Batgirl, there's a team of five two floors down in the northern section of the building. They're in the labs, so take caution. Some of the material stored there is inflammable."
Batgirl nodded in understanding and dashed away, leaving her mentor alone with Crazy Quilt.
"Such a lithe little girl. Tell me Batman, does she serve you in other…more intimate ways?"
The villain never saw the batarangs coming. The second they struck the criminal, they exploded with horrific force, blasting Quilt through another five cubicles. Though Batman didn't deign to answer Quilt, the villain still got the message.
&&&
Jack Millar ran his finger over the hammer of his gun for the millionth time. He was a small, scrawny man who knew enough to know he didn't know enough. Flunking out of High School, he fell into petty crime. Soon petty crime became more and more serious, as did the jail sentences that he received. Now a two time loser, he knew the next bust would be his last.
But at the same time, he needed the money. No one hired ex-cons like him, the rent was due and the payoff was promised to be ridiculous, even if the employer looked like Satan himself. But all the same, his nerves were shot, sweat trickled down his brow and he wouldn't feel safe until they were back at the safe-house.
So it was only natural he was the only one who saw Batgirl coming. His four comrades were busy scouring the lab for anything that might help in the creation of illicit drugs a mere twenty feet away. Jack saw some oxygen tanks as his cohorts fell and thus was borne a plan of pure desperation.
"Stop!" Jack yelled as he aimed his gun at the tanks. Batgirl complied, but only because the man's allies were already unconscious at her feet, "I'll shoot if you don't let me go!"
Batgirl carefully considered her options. There was no way she could reach the man before he fired on the tanks. He was desperate to the verge of suicide. She also recognized the symbols on the tanks which indicated they might be explosive.
But Batman had personally assured her they weren't.
Stuck between her own personal instincts, experience, logic and Batman's word, she felt there was no choice at all.
Batgirl rushed forward.
Millar fired.
And one second later, all hell rushed forward.
&&&
The impossibly sharp claws swung wide over the Dark Knight's head. He lashed out with a snap kick that caught his foe in the mid section and drove him back. The cubicle walls were scattered in disarray, something Quilt found to battle upon, but not the Dark Detective. As the ebony villain stumbled backwards, the grim avenger scooped a large computer monitor and flung it through the air where it slammed into his foe's head.
Batman stood his ground for a moment. For all his skill, he was still human whereas his enemy was not. He had three deep cuts across his stomach, slashes from Quilt's claws and a bruised jaw, and while he needed a moment of rest he was confident he could still win this battle.
Crazy Quilt looked marginally better, but that was only because he healed much quicker. The cuts and bruises caused by the monitor had already healed. Batman focused his attacks on his foe's head, and had dished out enough punishment to kill five men, but Quilt still stood.
"Tell me, are you going to stare me to death, Batman. They tell me I'm supposed to fear you, but I wouldn't call myself Crazy Quilt if I cared for the opinions of others."
"Crazy Quilt…"Batman allowed the words to roll off his tongue, "…yet you appear to have no connection to the first man to bear that name, and you're far from colorful with that ebony armor."
The eyes of the armored villain bulged.
Batman withdrew a razor sharp batarang from his belt, "What will happen when I strip you of your armor, Quilt?"
The floor rumbled, and this time it was Batman who felt shock and fear race through his mind.
"I suppose we'll have to find out some other time, Batman. Continue to battle me, or save your charge?"
Crazy Quilt smirked, and then strolled away as if he couldn't be bother to pay attention any longer. And though Batman longed to finish the fight, to capture a man who sought to undermine the company his father had given him, his course was clear. Crazy Quilt would have to wait.
&&&
Cassandra Cain felt the world spin into focus, her head pulsating pain. From the lack of natural light, she could tell she was resting in the medical wing of the Bat-cave. Naturally, both Batman and Alfred were nearby, and had approached when they observed she was regaining consciousness.
"Batman…? What…happened?"
"That's what I'd like to know," the tone was harsh, but controlled. One glance at the man's body language, and Cass knew her mentor was angry, "While I was rescuing you and those men, Crazy Quilt escaped with at least five million dollars worth of information. Care to tell me how you allowed the situation to get out of hand? I warned you those chemicals in the lab were flammable!"
"Sir, this is really not the time to be discussing this," Alfred interrupted, "this can wait until she's properly rested."
"No," interrupted Batgirl, "not warn flammable. Warned inflammable."
Batman gave her an odd (and still angry) look, so Cassandra explained further,
"Inflammable. Inescapable, can't escape. Inexcusable, can't…excuse," Cassandra explained with (to her) perfect logic, "inflammable…can't flame,…right?"
Batgirl could count on one hand the amount of times she'd ever seen Batman completely surprised. He quickly spun around, drawing his cape close so that she could see nothing of his body language.
"Get some rest, Cassandra. When you're well, we'll need to sort some matters out."
&&&
The first time Cassandra fell asleep, she awoke in one of the guest rooms in Wayne Manor. She passed the day like any other, watching simply T.V. Alfred brought her lunch and dinner, but he remained reserved about the whereabouts of Batman other than to say she had strict orders to stay out of the cave and to recuperate. Cass could see the worry in his body, but the aged Butler would say no more.
&&&
Deep below the multi-million dollar estate, Batman was stationed in front of the multi-million dollar Cray computer dubbed fittingly enough the Bat-computer. It held the combined databases of the FBI, Gotham City Police Department and DEO, along with extensive profiles of every single rogue who ever set foot in Gotham City, in its massive memory banks. And right now, the mammoth super-computer was focused on one thing and one thing only.
A scene from Cassandra Cain's young life was playing across the monitor. She was eight years old, looking like a kid in a candy store as she approached a Cuban drug lord. She leapt up upon the desk, and ripped the man's throat out. The tape ended there.
Batman knew the man on the tape was dead, throat ripped out with expert skill just like in the video. The tape had been sent by Cain, who claimed it was authentic. He even went so far as to volunteer the autopsy report. There was nothing to refute, and everything to confirm it.
That was why The Batman was going over every panel, every figurative inch trying to determine if somehow, someway the tape had been forged or fabricated. He'd only given it a cursory examination in the past due to more pressing matters and he'd never come back to it, for reasons he wouldn't admit to himself.
But Batgirl's brush with death because of a simple grammar misunderstanding clearly demonstrated his tactics with her were not working. He needed to start at square one, at the beginning.
As he watched the video, he thought back to what he knew of Cassandra's early childhood. He'd seen one video when Cain had shot the girl, no…child in the shoulder while she was playing, just to keep her alert. Cain kept a vivid video archive of his daughter's…abuse masked as training, and not a single tape failed to sicken and enrage the Dark Knight, and he was a man who raised himself to be intimately familiar with the dark side of human nature.
Finally, he came to the only logical conclusion he could. With rage that dwarfed the brightest sun, he slammed his hand down upon the consul, shattering the keyboard into a million pieces.
&&&
On the third day of convalescence, Cassandra awoke to see her Batgirl uniform draped across a chair in the corner. She only noticed the mask was missing when she finished.
Presuming the costume meant that everything was fine, Cassandra made her way to the Batcave, ready to resume her work. The Grandfather Clock was swung open in an almost invitation. Descending into the damp darkness, Cassandra began to feel alive again.
But when she stepped down the final step and came into full view of the Batcave, her heart stopped and her mouth ran dry.
"Cassandra…"
Batman stood in full view of the Batcomputer, holding her stitched mask in one hand. Plastered across the high definition monitor was a digital recording of her first kill. Her hands had just begun to sink into the man's flesh, as blood spurted out like juice from a ripe fruit. Batman's cold eyes were cast upon her with a seriousness that terrified her.
"…we need to talk."
Next issue: Batman vs. Batgirl in an emotional battle of wits! 'Nuff said!
Continuity points for those who care
Spoiler: She was the girlfriend of Tim Drake, the current Robin. She put on a costume basically to screw over her villain dad and for kicks. Batman never liked her, but tried to train her for a while. During a Bat-period of 'Distant myself from my allies, go it alone, yadda, yadda' Spoiler came to Cassandra for training, where the two formed a luke warm friendship. Eventually, Spoiler became Robin when Tim retired for a bit and she got fired from that. Getting fired as Robin led too…
War Games: Spoiler stole secret, never to be used plans of Batman designed to unite the various crimelords under the control of Matches Malone (Batman's undercover I.D.) to impress the Batclan (with a brainy plan like that, is it any wonder she's dead?). Somehow Spoiler enacted these plans without know who Matches was, or how to contact him. The arranged meeting erupted into a firefight, which spiraled into an even bigger riot as gangs fought each other for control. As a result, Spoiler was killed by Black Mask (which will be dealt with by another writer. And yes, Black Mask alone is responsible for Spoiler's death) who then assumed control of Batman's plan and thus Gotham's gangs. During the riots, the Batclan were officially no longer urban myths. During the course of the gang war, Zeiss acted as Black Mask's messenger, a small but vital role.
Batgirl's killing: Though it hasn't been addressed it a while, Batman has known about Cass' killing for some time. When last discussed, he firmly didn't believe it, thinking her dedication was too much for a killer to have.
Hopefully, that's answered any lingering questions anyone has. I know this is somewhat like the first issue, but I wanted to ease into things. Trust me when I say the next issue and all that follow will blaze a new path for our favorite Shiva stomper!