WHO IS BATGIRL?
On Friday, August 3rd, Arkham Asylum staff were shocked to receive their second and third super-powered criminal in a week. Close on the heels of Bane's incarceration, the unconscious forms of Joker and Scarecrow were delivered to the Warden of Arkham Asylum, Quincy Sharp, and Gotham's own police commissioner, James Gordon. However, the most remarkable part of these arrests was not the Batman's involvement, but his new accomplice who has affectionately been named Batgirl by the Gotham populace.
Arkham Asylum Warden Quincy Sharp shared that Batman and his accomplices were well-intentioned and that the duo was wise to deliver the criminals to Arkham Asylum rather than GCPD headquarters, as the asylum is "the only location secure enough to hold these criminals and equipped to manage their rehabilitation."
When asked about his collaboration and partnership with Batman and Batgirl, James Gordon elected not to comment.
While this sensational arrest was captivating to our journalists on the scene, we could not help but ask the most glaringly obvious question: Who is Batgirl? Batman's usual accomplice, Robin, has not been sighted since February of this year, and now this new accomplice has begun appearing more and more frequently at Batman's side. Since her dramatic standoff with the villain Harley Quinn in Gotham Square, she's also assisted in the arrest of Harvey Dent, Bane, Joker, and Scarecrow. Like her or not, she's a force to be reckoned with, and we're curious about who she is without the mask.
Some journalists who have their finger on the pulse of this city suggest that the timing of this change is all too conspicuous. And we're not the only ones. Dr. Gretchen Whistler of Arkham Asylum, an internationally renowned criminal psychologist, theorizes that the sidekick at Batman's side never changed. Only the outfit did.
"It is possible, considering the timing of this transition between accomplices, that it has been the same accomplice all along. It is possible Robin no longer wanted to be male and has undergone a gender transition, now going under the guise of Batgirl," Dr. Whistler suggested.
We must admit, that hair seems a little too red to be real (more on this later). And combat styles, as analyzed by Gotham City Police Department specialists, seem incredibly comparable. But a transsexual superhero in Gotham City? We think that theory is more befitting of a tabloid like the Gotham Sun than the Gotham Herald.
Warden Sharp had a different theory as to the sudden disappearance of Robin: "he's been killed, of course," he told Herald staff matter-of-factly. "Why else would he have disappeared so suddenly? Joker has been on the loose a long time now. It would not surprise me if the young man had finally had his ticket punched." As to the identity of this new Batgirl, Sharp had few theories.
We spoke with a profiler with Gotham City Police Department, whose job is to take small pieces of a criminal's appearance to try to discern their identity. He had some interesting theories on how we, the Gotham public, could identify this new vigilante.
"Her hair is an incredibly long, lush red, and she doesn't seem worried about her hair length being used against her in combat: more than likely, this hair is a wig," he suggested. "And people who frequently wear wigs often keep their natural hair cut very short to accommodate wig wearing. So we're likely looking at a woman with a pixie cut or shaved head.
"Additionally, she is clearly a proficient fighter. I'd guess she has special forces military training in her background, or a history of mixed martial arts education."
Batgirl is nearing 6 feet tall and has an incredibly athletic build. So next time you're at the gym, maybe take a closer look at the women next to you. Is it possible she is Batgirl? While we may never know her identity for certain, some Gotham citizens feel we don't need to: like Batman, she is providing essential, life-saving services for Gotham City.
We spoke with a family that was present during the Harley Quinn terrorist attack on Gotham Square. Beth and Dale Morris had brought their son to the square that day to visit the traveling circus, and their day almost ended in the death of their child. "That crazy woman [Harley Quinn] was releasing wild animals into the square, including a tiger. Our son said that tiger looked right at him. If Batgirl hadn't stopped that tiger, I don't think our son would have survived the day. We will always be grateful for Batgirl."
We also spoke to Officer Monroe of the GCPD, one of the officers that arrested Harvey Dent. "We were heading into that mess whether a vigilante assisted or not. But when we got there, there were over a dozen guys all knocked out. If Batgirl hadn't interfered, we probably would have lost officer lives. My wife prays every day that Batgirl and Batman got my back; they've saved my life before and they'll probably do it again."
Most recently, just before we sent this paper to print, we were able to interview a couple that Batgirl saved on the Gotham Freeway just last night. During peak nightlife hours, an intoxicated man had allegedly been blinded and left on the Freeway to fend for his life. Batgirl intervened and saved not only the blind man, but also the lives of those who crashed their cars trying to avoid hitting the man. When we asked the drivers if they blamed Batgirl for their injuries and vehicular damage, they unanimously said no. A particular driver, Toniyah Keys, had an especially close encounter with Batgirl and was profoundly grateful.
"Out of nowhere, I saw this guy on the freeway. I slammed on the brakes but thought, no way. I'm going to kill this man. And Batgirl was just there and suddenly he was gone. Our car got hit, a few times I think, and my boyfriend was in real bad shape. Batgirl came back for us after saving that man and helped us get out of the car. She even somehow knew that Marcus [her boyfriend] had a cracked skull and a broken arm, just by looking at him. She didn't just save all our lives, she cared and made sure we were going to be okay. She only left once the ambulances were there and able to take care of us."
We asked Toniyah if she cared to ever find out who Batgirl really is behind the mask and she answered, "no. Because who knows if she'd be doing this without the mask. The only reason I'd ever want to know who she is, is so I can say thank you. Thank you for saving our lives."
I couldn't help but smile to myself as I read the article. My eyes hung on some of the sentences, the praise and thanks I'd never expected or hoped for. It was too generous, too kind.
"Don't get used to it," Dick smiled at me over his coffee. "They'll hate you in no time for doing the exact same thing." I shrugged and tried to squeeze my smile away.
"That's okay," I said quietly. "I was always ready for them to hate me. But this is… nice. And who knew my hair was so attractive?"
"I knew that," Dick smiled flirtatiously at me.
"Well, maybe you should say it more," I winked playfully back at him. "And I don't know, I think I really like this theory that I'm a transsexual superhero," I shrugged as I looked at the paper. "I kinda wish I was. Wouldn't that be so cool? I think that would make Gotham a much better place."
"Don't really love the implication that you and I are the same person though," Dick smiled back at me. "Not exactly a turn on."
"That's actually very surprising, that you don't find yourself to be a turn on," I laughed up at him.
"Wow. Shots fired, first thing in the morning," Dick cast me a playfully offended grimace as he took the paper from me and folded it up. "What are you up to, this fine Sunday?"
"Need to pack up some of my things back at the apartment… get ready for the move, I guess," I shrugged, sipping my coffee.
"Want to help me with something first?" he asked, standing and leading me towards his version of a Batcave behind a hidden door off his living room. I followed, still only wearing his shirt, and watched over his shoulder as he keyed in his password and pulled up what he'd been working on.
"This is a sample of the blood you've found at the crime scenes?" I asked, inferring from the blood type information and addresses of the homicides he'd been investigating.
"Yes. Consistent across every homicide," he clarified. "A lot is consistent across these homicides. And they're happening within pretty close proximity."
"I also found another important consistency across all the homicides," I said, pointing down at his computer screen at one of the pictures of the victims. "All lacerations. Knife wounds. And most of the cuts were made to fatal areas: the carotid artery, the radial artery, and even one to the femoral artery. The victims were cut…"
"Some were carved to pieces," Dick reminded me.
"But none of them would have taken long to bleed out. Ten minutes, tops," I said. Dick's eyebrows raised with unease.
"Ten minutes can feel like an eternity, when you're being killed," Dick said. My lips tightened in somber remembrance of these victims: murder is never a good way to go. "I can't find a connection between the victims… it took me hours just to positively identify them. I can't figure out why the killer chose them."
"Maybe they aren't who we need to be investigating," I suggested, pointing to the blood type on the screen again: AB negative. "Less than 1% of the US population has AB negative blood. That means there are fewer than 60,000 people in Gotham with this blood type."
"If the killer is from Gotham," Dick insisted. I cocked my head to the side.
"Sure… but since all the killings were in Gotham, let's operate under that assumption for now," I suggested. Dick tilted his head in a conciliatory way. "Run a search on all the area hospitals and blood banks: see if you can pull their lists of AB negative donors and recipients. Even if we can't get a completely positive match on the killer, we can at least refine our search."
"So, wait… all the hospitals…" Dick spoke to himself as he tried to dig through the system to pull up Elliot Memorial's database. My eyes darted down at him, almost in disbelief at how slow he was going.
"Do you want me to…"
"No, just give me a sec…"
"Because I don't mind."
"Thanks, I just need a minute."
I tightened my lips and stared down at him impatiently. After a few more seconds, he looked back up at me.
"It'll just go so much faster if I do it."
He stood, smiling as he shook his head at me. "All yours," he said as I sat down. In three minutes, I had all the databases I needed pulled up and the reports were running.
"It'll just take a few minutes. Then we can go in, cross reference information about mental health and criminal records," I said, spinning the chair back to face him. He looked at the screen with amazement.
"Do you wanna come work for me?" he asked, and I could tell he was only 50% joking. I smiled and stood, kissing him on the cheek.
"I've got enough to keep my plate full, thanks," I said, leaving the room and heading back towards the bedroom.
"Where are you going?" Dick asked.
"Thought I'd go put on pants," I answered. His eyes darted down my bare legs, back to my face, back to the computer, and back to me again.
"How much time before those reports finish?" he asked with a sly smile.
After we'd messed around for thirty minutes and I'd gotten dressed again, we returned to his computer to find a long list of AB negative patients. We ruled out the unlikeliest of candidates: any patients under the age of 12, any over the age of 75, and any that were, of course, deceased.
"That leaves us with almost 43,000 suspects," Dick said, sounding expasperated.
"Not suspects, yet," I reminded him as I leaned over the keyboard and keyed in our next steps. "First, we need to cross reference this data with mental health records, see if that uncovers anything else. And we can try to run a cross reference with social media for tangible alibis that night."
"Facebook? Seriously?" Dick said, and I could hear his eyes rolling as he said it.
"It's gotta be good for something," I said, leaning away from the computer again. "It'll take some time to run." Dick's cell phone rang and he took it out of his pocket, looking at the caller ID.
"Hang on a sec," he motioned to me as he answered the call. "Grayson," he answered with his name. I heard a low voice on the other end talking quickly and authoritatively. "Jesus," Dick muttered. "Yeah, I can cover. I'm not too far. Be in soon." He hung up the phone and gave me a warning glance as he hurried towards his bedroom.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Another body," he said. "A GCPD officer, Willis. They're calling in nearby precincts, trying to get officers on the scene that don't know the guy," he explained as he grabbed his police issued shirt and buttoned it over his undershirt.
"Is it connected…"
"Probably," he cut me off. "Slit throat. The cop had been strung up on Arkham Bridge."
"God," I said, grabbing my sneakers and sliding them on.
"Can you get that report running any faster?" Dick asked as he grabbed the correct pants and pulled them on hurriedly.
"I'll work on it this afternoon. Check in with me tonight," I said. He buttoned his pants with a nod, then stepped forward. He put an arm tightly around my waist and pulled me close, kissing me deeply. The intensity of the kiss took me by surprise, but I melted into it before he pulled away.
"Tonight, then," he said. I smiled back and, as he led me out of the apartment, I swiped up the newspaper on the counter and tucked it under my arm with a smile.
I spent a few hours packing up my stuff, but quickly drove myself to the mansion to hit the computers. Bruce was at some charity bruncheon, which meant I had all the space to myself.
On my way over, I got a call from Dick. "That was fast," I said as I answered.
"Hey," he said in a very aloof tone. "I'm still on the clock, I just wanted to send you an update."
"Okay…" I answered slowly, "I didn't know we were doing that." Were we at the point in our relationship where we were obligated to check in with each other every few hours?
"No, still on the scene of the first murder," Dick said. I sat confusedly a moment, wondering if he had somehow pocket dialed me before I realized he was trying to give me information discreetly. There must have been other officers around to overhear.
"The first murder? Was there a second today?" I confirmed.
"Yeah, brutal," Dick said vaguely. I contemplated how I could get more information from him without getting too specific.
"Where?"
"No, I'm on Arkham Bridge. The other one was in the artist's studio on Bleake, near the old movie studios," he said, giving me plenty of detail.
"Any other interesting circumstances I should log?" I asked.
"The artwork was funny," Dick said, as if confirming what I had said.
"Artwork?"
"The poor kid… the victim was probably only in his twenties, so gifted. But to have his talents used like that, to depict such violence… just horrible," Dick described. I felt my face twist into a grimace.
"Did the killer have the artist draw himself bleeding out?" I clarified.
"The guy obviously has a fascination with mutilated bodies, that's clear," Dick said. Bodies. Plural.
"Were the drawings of the other victims? Was the artist present to see the other victims killed?" I asked.
"No, I don't think so," Dick answered, the relief in his voice obvious to not have to invent some line of conversation to answer my question.
"Got it. I'll put it in the system."
"How are you doing on your cake?" he asked. My brow furrowed again as I was confused.
"You've lost me," I confessed.
"Yeah, that cake recipe looked tough, but you said you thought you could get it done by tonight? You still think that's the case? Cause if that cake's not done by tomorrow… well, I'd just hate to see what would happen if we didn't get it done in time," Dick said a bit quieter. I nodded with understanding.
"I'm on my way to work on it now. We can get this done," I said positively, partially to encourage him but also to motivate myself.
"Good. I look forward to having a taste," he said, and I could hear his lips turn upwards as he said it.
"Now you're being gross. Goodbye Dick," I said.
"Bet it'll taste like…" he started to say as I hung up on him. As soon as I arrived at the mansion, I hurried to the Batcave to find Jason sitting at the monitors.
"What are you doing down here?" I asked, and the surprise of hearing my voice almost made him jump in his seat.
"Barbara," he said, shaking his head and looking back up at the computer monitors. The screens had security footage on them, but it wasn't GCPD cameras.
"What are you working on?" I asked curiously. In the video, the scene was dark. The video was timestamped to July 13th: the night the Iceberg Lounge opened. It was the night Nightwing and I had apprehended Two-Face, as well as the night we'd finally let ourselves be together. It was the night Joker and Harley had murdered a waitress and led Batman and I on a wild goose chase, only for both of them to get away. And it was the last time Jason had really been able to go out under the guise as Red Hood, when he'd saved a room full of hostages from Penguin.
"I… it's like you said," Jason stammered nervously, "I'm… trying to make up for giving up Bane."
"By… looking for footage of…"
"Harley Quinn," Jason answered. "She's one of the few open cases that's still on the lam."
"So is Red Hood," I said, stepping forward and clicking a button that I knew Bruce kept handy to pull up our entire digital bulletin board of information on Red Hood. "You sure it's a good idea to draw his attention to that night?"
"If it means putting Quinn away, yeah," Jason said, minimizing the window and refocusing on the security camera footage.
"What cameras are these?" I asked.
"Civilians'," he answered casually, and my eyes got big. "Canaries, Coves, Yis… there are so many brands of civilian security cameras out there, and all of them store their data on 'the cloud.' People can be so stupid…"
"Jason, that's a huge invasion of privacy," I scolded him. He looked up at me, exasperated and annoyed.
"Are you… it's not like I'm watching people get dressed! I'm looking for criminals! I'm not looking in their apartments!" Jason gestured to the monitors to make me understand.
My face stayed tight as I tried to decide whether this hack was acceptable. It was, at the very least, a very grey moral ground. "Look," he continued, clicking through his findings as he rewound the digital file on one camera. The file slowed and showed nothing but the view from someone's fire escape window, a tiny flowerbox sitting innocently in front of the camera. Suddenly, the camera and flowers jostled as a shadow and a figure flung itself so rapidly up the exterior of the fire escape that I couldn't make it out.
"Replay that," I insisted, leaning forward over the back of his seat as he smarmily obliged.
"Right… there!" he proudly exclaimed as he got the pixelated file to pause. It wasn't a perfect picture, but there she was: a slightly beat up Harley Quinn, her blonde pigtails matted with bloody tangles and the bodice of her red dress torn. This must have been just after her car crash with Joker in Park Row.
"Where is this? What building?" I asked as I reached over Jason's shoulder to grab the mouse.
"Relax," he said. "It's an abandoned old apartment building on the North side of Park Row. I've still got some more files to search through, see if I can figure out where she was headed."
"I know where she was headed," I told him. "She got to that rooftop, then disappeared. I was there that night, followed the trail of blood she left behind. It ended on that rooftop."
"That doesn't make any sense," he said, rewinding the digital file again. I watched the blur of color jump up the fire escape again in slow motion, but something caught my eye this time.
"Hang on," I said, thrusting a hand out to pause him. "Play it back again. Slower."
Jason obliged me, clicking frame by frame through the video. He seemed almost annoyed at my pace, but my eyes narrowed. "What?" he finally asked, frustrated he couldn't see whatever it was I thought I could see.
"There," I pointed as he landed on a frame. "That shadow."
"What about it?"
"It's ahead of her," I said. "The shadow is above her."
"Because the street lights are below here," Jason nodded, seemingly proud of himself. I shook my head.
"Her shadow should be larger, grayer, thrown in silhouette onto the next building. This shadow is right ahead of her," I said. "It's not a shadow. It's a person."
When Bruce had returned from his charity function, I invited him down to the Batcave and warned him not to be angry. When he saw Jason at the computer monitors, his jaw tensed and squared, but he held true to his word and was patient as Jason showed Bruce all he had found. I allowed Jason to take credit for the discovery that the shadow ahead of Quinn was no shadow at all. Bruce, a vision in his Saint Laurent Sunday best, studied the video carefully as Jason slowly thumbed through the video frame by frame.
"The question is, who was helping her…"
"I know who was helping her," Bruce said in a critical tone. Jason and I both darted glances at Bruce.
"Who?" Jason asked.
"If I tell you, will you call the police?" Bruce asked. His tone was so sarcastic, I half expected him to smile. But he didn't. He watched Jason sternly for a response. Jason's eyes bounced over to me with exasperation, and I raised my eyebrows in return.
Don't. Screw. It. Up.
Jason seemed to understand and turned back to Bruce. "No," he answered. "I just want to help." Bruce paused a long moment, assessing him.
"Good," he finally replied. "You've done great work, Jason. You've given us a lead on one of the greatest criminals at large in Gotham."
"Who's that?" Dick's voice echoed through the Batcave. "The serial killer you've got running around?"
"No. Harley Quinn," Batman responded.
"Huh. It kinda feels like you should be going after that serial killer," Dick said a bit breathlessly as he reached us and dropped his bag on the ground at his side.
"As I understand it, someone from Bludhaven has been working on it," Bruce said to Dick, gesturing for Jason to step away from the computers. Jason obliged and Bruce sat, keying in a security code and pulling up familiar windows from Nightwing's server.
"You've been on my server," Dick obtusely remarked.
"It's my server," Bruce reminded him. "I just set up a remote access point for your use."
"You spying on me?" Dick asked, forcing a tone of anger though I could tell it masked paranoia.
What else did Bruce know that we didn't want him to?
"Only when it comes to the reports you generate when you pull data from every major hospital, prison, blood bank, and police station in the Gotham area," Bruce said, pulling up the completed report I had generated. He spun the chair to face Dick and I, his eyes accusingly landing on me. I pinched out a small smile as I felt my cheeks warm and redden.
"I may have given him some suggestions on where to look," I shrugged innocently. Bruce seemed to buy it, and forgave me with a half-smile before turning back to the computers.
"Your instincts were good," he said, clicking a button to reveal the results of the report: less than fifty suspects remained.
"Fifty suspects… we could get a good preliminary list tonight…"
"You won't need one," Bruce interrupted me, double clicking a line on the report to highlight a name. "Victor Zsasz is our man."
"Victor Zsasz… as in, Zsasz International?" I asked, stepping closer to Bruce as he pulled up information on the former international businessman.
"His parents passed away in an unfortunate boating accident in the Maldives earlier this year. In the months since, he's dissolved his company. Rumor has it, he's taken to gambling. He's suffered an emotional and mental break. He's our prime suspect," Bruce said.
"I don't know… losing his parents doesn't convince me he's become a serial killer. I mean, we turned out okay, right?" Dick looked laughingly around at himself, Bruce, and Jason.
Bruce and Jason didn't laugh.
I swallowed a humble breath as I realized that I was the only one in the room with blood relatives left to speak of. The things we take for granted…
"Victor is a Caucasian male in his early thirties. He fits the most statistically significant profile of a serial killer. And he's been off the radar in all the wealthiest circles for far too long. He's our best bet," Bruce reassured Dick.
"I'm on it, I'll get to hunting him down," Dick said, grabbing his bag to go suit up.
"Dick," Bruce called to stop him. "Barbara will be busy tonight. If you need help on the computers, call Jason." Dick, Jason, and I could have gotten whiplash from the shock of what he'd said.
"Seriously?" Jason asked excitedly, quietly, hopefully. Bruce raised his wrists and began removing his cufflinks as he sternly looked up at Jason.
"Don't make me regret it," he said, though I could see the edges of his mouth lift as he did.
"I won't," Jason promised. Bruce stood and began making moves towards his gear.
"Suit up, Barbara," he instructed me as I walked alongside him. "We've got to track down a lead on Harley Quinn."
"Right," I said, eager to pick up the trail. "Which, incidentally… who is that lead?" Bruce looked across the room, lost in memories and thoughts as he let out a deep breath.
"Catwoman."