Even after years of being a trained fighter, coming up against Gotham's worst, and being trained by the best combat fighter of all time, getting punched in the face still hurt.
Barbara found herself being constantly surprised at how she never got used to being beaten up. When she had started her career of vigilantism, she has expected that overtime her body would grow an almost second skin, making it easier for her to sustain and recover from constant blows to her body.
Yet, it didn't exactly work like that.
Yes, she found herself being able to get up and keep going longer and faster than she had before, but the pain never got any easier. The bruises never hurt any less and the stitches never left a scar that was less severe than the first she had ever received.
So, when she found herself in the middle of a boxing ring being punched by a Russian fighter five inches taller than her and at least fifteen pounds of pure muscles on her, she felt every single blow like she was running into a concrete wall headfirst.
The underground fighting arena, if you could call it an arena, was a place Barbara Gordon never thought she would ever be, but if she was being honest with herself, she had ended up in a lot of places she never expected to be in the past six years since she had taken up the mantle of Batgirl.
She had spent more time with Gotham's scum than she had with anyone she loved and wanted to be around. Her friends and family had to take a backseat and the criminals of the city were her companions' whether she wanted them to be or not. Batgirl could tell you the movements of every criminal down to a tee, but she couldn't tell you what her best friend did for work, or if her father had gotten time off in the same space of time.
It was depressing to think about, and the punches in the face definitely didn't help.
She could hear the mobsters and drug dealers surrounding the ring screaming at her and her fellow fighter. They probably had thousands of dollars on this fight and losing that type of money in an unregulated fight wasn't something that these people took lightly. She wasn't exactly thrilled that she was the object of the entertainment for these people tonight, but they were unknowingly giving her a service they could never have possibly guessed.
With every bruise she received here, she had an excuse for the other six she would receive on the rooftops of Gotham city. It was a perfect plan, but a painful one.
The Russian had gotten in a good few punches that had stung, and Barbara could already feel the bruises forming on her face, probably turning purple every moment that passed. Even as the woman continued to beat her into submission, she couldn't help but feel bad for the woman. Barbara was here for one reason and one reason only, able to leave and go back home to her nice warm bed and forget about this awful place. This girl was probably being forced into this ring and being controlled by half a dozen of the men in her corner.
Barbara had been undefeated in nine fights, the longest anyone had ever gone which was earning her a name around the underground, another perfect piece of her puzzle. The undercover cop in the crowd that she recognized from the GPD files would surely let her father know about her underground activities, giving her an alibi for the physical injuries she sustained almost nightly.
There is only so much even Batgirl can take when you are repeatedly punched square in the face and eventually the Russian landed a hit that knocked the wind out of her and plunged her to the ground. The crowd let out a roar that wasn't a cheer or a shout, but a mix of both with a tone of aggression that let her know she wasn't going to be safe if she stayed on the ground for much longer.
Barbara rolled over onto her front, getting ready to push herself back up to her feet and face her opponent once again when she spotted him. He was stood at the back of the crowd, surrounded by the other high-end betters who had enough money to get away with illegal activity such as this.
He wore a full-length trench coat that she guessed cost more than her entire apartment and a crisp navy suit that had been pressed to one inch of its life. Their eyes locked almost immediately and even though he wasn't scowling on the outside, the look in his eyes was undeniable, It was the same look he gave when he was unhappy, which was almost always, and he looked down at his watch as if to say, "hurry up and get on with it."
Barbara knew he wasn't one to be left waiting, so she pushed herself up onto her feet and faced the tower of a woman in front of her. Admittedly, she only felt slightly guilty when she finally punched the Russian in her left shoulder, the one that she had been protecting all night. This caused her to pull back instinctively and open her hands up, allowing Barbara to hit her straight in the face and upwards under the chin almost simultaneously which knocked her cleanout.
At that exact moment, Barbara's arm is grabbed and forced into the air in a declaration of victory and before anyone could act on the abuse they were threatening her with, she was pushed into the dressing room.
She went to the locker that had been assigned for her, after all an underground undefeated champion deserves luxury, right? Either way, she was happy to have a place she could leave her bag, even if only had a towel and hoodie in it. She took out the towel, wiped her face with it then looked at herself in the small mirror in the side of the locker.
She could see the bruises that she had felt forming begin to pop up under her eyes and beside her cheek. It was a good night's work, and she was happy her face was still numb even before she put the numbing cream on. While she was applying it, she saw him in the mirror standing behind her with the same expression he had had in the arena.
Even though no one was technically allowed into the dressing room while she was there, she guessed no one said no to Bruce Wayne, especially when he had his checkbook with him.
"Is that one from tonight or from Monday?" he asked, referencing the bruise on her cheek, the one more purple.
Monday had been a tough night. She had run into an escaped Clay face and decided she couldn't wait for the electric currents of the taser to take him down and ended up attacking him full on. She had hoped the Batman didn't know about it and she could take care of it before he had to get involved, but she realized how naive that was the second the thought popped into her mind.
Of course, he knew. He knew everything.
"The fact that you can't tell means it's working" she quipped back, not bothering to turn around and face him. "Plus, I get quality firsthand information about the Mob. More mobsters come in through here every week than either of us have seen in six years. It's pretty valuable what you hear when people think you aren't listening."
That was always one of Barbara's biggest strengths. The fact that no one thought she was a threat. No one felt they had to be careful around her or had to be overly aggressive with her because to the outside world she was just a fragile young woman who could never take down their empire.
"If only they knew the person they were betting on every week was the one foiling their plans and hacking into their databases."
The quip was as humorous as Bruce ever got; she was pretty sure she had never seen him genuinely smile in the entire time she knew him. She presumed he was trying to make the atmosphere a little less awkward and tension-filled for the same reason he usually did - because he wanted something.
He wouldn't bother to make small talk or quips if he was here to tell her off or warn her against taking down criminals alone.
"Alright Bruce, why are you here?" She had had enough of the dancing around the issue and was ready to hear whatever he had come to confront her about.
"I need you to come in."
'Come in' meant come to the manor. She hadn't been in months and whenever she was asked to 'come in' it was usually for something desperate, but she wasn't getting that feeling with him right now.
"Not for me, for Jason."
Now that, she wasn't expecting.
It had been nearly a year since Jason Todd had barreled into both of their lives and changed it forever. The seventeen-year-old was the new robin and as far as she knew his training was going as well as could be expected. Plucking someone from the street who was completely out of this world and pushing them into a life of crimefighting wasn't the easiest transition, but Bruce had done it successfully twice before so he was sure he could do it again.
"What about Jason?" she asked as she turned around to face him.
Bruce shifted and for a split second, she saw his face grimaced uncomfortably. Her tone hadn't even been snappy, which it usually was with him nowadays, so she wasn't exactly so sure as to why he was awkward about this topic.
"I need you to help him with the gymnastics, you were both much better than I ever was. He's struggling with the maneuvers related to knife disbarment and I think- I know- your help will give him the edge."
It was probably as kind as she was ever going to get from Bruce Wayne. The closest he would ever get to say he was proud of her abilities and that she could offer something to his life. She internally cursed herself for feeling delight at the thought of him praising her and she wondered why on earth she still cared about his opinion, especially his opinion of her.
She thought about saying no.
'Piss off Wayne, I am not your substitute teacher' she imagined saying to him. Sending the Batman packing was tempting considering all that had happened between them in the past few years in particular and she had always secretly wanted to have the power that he seemed to always possess over her.
Yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it.
She had been the young new protégée at one point in her life and she wouldn't have made it if she hadn't mastered her skills with the help of another Robin. She couldn't abandon someone who needed her and could learn lifesaving skills if she could put her fragile ego to the side and help him, and God knows he would need it.
She had to put the bitterness behind her for the sake of the teenager and help him in any way that she could.
"Ok," she said, almost in a sigh of acceptance. "For Jason, I'll come in."
While she packed up her bag, getting ready to get out of this seedy underground lounge, she heard Marty, the owner of this fine establishment, clammer into the room. As he opened the door, in the background she could still hear the roar of the crowd, obviously still rowdy from the event and pummeling she had just given the Russian.
Marty was as seedy as they came. A short man who couldn't have been younger than fifty wore a vest that she guessed was white at one point but had enough stains on it to turn it off yellow. He also sported a gold chain that hung onto his robust stomach and his forehead had a constant layer of sweat that made his bald head glow.
He was the type of guy that could never fight himself, so instead chose to surround himself with criminals and get on their good side through the only thing they cared about, money.
"There's my girl!" he almost shouted in a deep Gotham accent that Barbara only a twinge of and Bruce Wayne would never be caught dead sounding like. "The record holder herself, you gave us a scare there, thought she really had you."
"Well, someone who has at least 15 pounds on me will do that Marty" Barbara snapped. "That wasn't what we agreed!"
"Ah I always believed in ya!" he spoke as he crossed the room handing her a bundle of cash. It was at that moment that he seemed to notice Bruce standing on the other side of the room and was visible taken back by his presence, but Barbara couldn't bring herself to care or even try to explain why Bruce Wayne, millionaire philanthropist was in her dressing room.
"This also isn't what we agreed Marty!" she yelled at him after looking at the cash.
In reality, Barbara couldn't have cared less about her take, after all, she wasn't exactly here for extra pocket money. She worked a full-time job, and it wasn't as if she couldn't ask her friends in high places for money if she was ever so desperate that she needed to fight in an illegal boxing ring, but she couldn't let people know that. She had to be Barbara Gordon, a lonely Librarian who fought in these matches to pay off her student debt or medical bills or next week's rent, and that Barbara wouldn't roll over and take being screwed over.
"Look girlie, you get the percentage of the take, it's not my fault you didn't attract as much as the men's fight," he said looking her up and down. She waited for her skin to crawl like it usually did, but when it didn't. She realized she must be getting used to the constant creepiness that this place ensued.
She rolled her eyes at him, knowing she wasn't going to get anywhere with him tonight, especially if he was going to come up with stupid excuses like that one. It also didn't help that he clearly presumed she had friends in high places and wasn't really in a position to be groveling. The illusion that she was a poor Gothamite fighting for scraps was gone out of this place the second Wayne even glanced at her.
"But maybe there would be more interest if the commissioner's daughter was on the ticket."
Shit.
"You better keep that shit to yourself Marty, or else it won't be the Russian that will be needing the emergency room next time" she threatened, knowing it would mean nothing. Her career as an undefeated champion was now over and there were no threats, she could use to reverse that.
She was happy enough for her father to hear through an undercover agent or word on the street that she was fighting in these rings but opening using her name to garner attention for a fight was too unbelievable of a story, even for her.
"Let's go," she said to Bruce as she stormed out the back entrance, not wanting to risk walking past the angry Russians yet again and causing a scene. Now that she knew this place was worthless to her she wanted to leave as fast as she could and never look back, in fact, she hoped now that she wasn't associated with it her father's agent could hurry up and get it shut down, but good lord he was taking his time.
Swinging open the door to the back-alley she was surprised, yet not surprised at all to see the brand-new silver Mercedes sitting there in all its glory. It was then she realized this was all a part of his overall plan.
This only added to Barbara's annoyance as she heard Bruce click the keys behind her and she had the door open and closed again faster than you could say hello and she imagined at that moment she looked like a spoiled child storming into her dad's car after he had embarrassed her at the school gates, but she could hardly bring herself to care.
She was forced to wait as Bruce played his, "I am a millionaire flaunting my wealth" game as he crossed the front of the car and slid into the driver's seat, sporting a cocky smile as he went.
"So, this is why you didn't just call" Barbara snapped the second he closed his door. "You wanted to make sure I could never come back here again."
When he didn't answer and stared forward as he drove through the city, she knew she was right.