Warnings: language

Part 1C Seven: Life or Death

Elle

Life or death. Shouldn't it be life and death? After all, everyone dies eventually, whether it's by old age, or illness, or being hit by a bus. So why is the argument always for one or the other? They go hand-in-hand, more so when you're the one with the power.

I don't know why, but I still don't regret killing that man. Like Jason said, he was a criminal. A criminal who killed a child. Who gave that man the right to kill an innocent? I should have the right to take away the life of a criminal, then, right?

He deserved it.

Right?

Tuesday, December 1

I could hear them whispering everywhere I went. In the halls, in the classrooms, in the library, in the cafeteria. I did my best not to fidget, to keep up a poker face. I had to keep reminding myself that no one knew it was me. No one knew that I was Cougar. No one knew that it had been me who'd killed someone last night.

And yet, I constantly had to stop myself from glancing over my shoulder whenever someone mentioned me.

Rumors spread like wildfire throughout the school, as they were wont to do. I heard everything from "Cougar's badass" to "Cougar's a murderer" to "I heard she's the Joker's assassin." Yes, I actually heard that last one. I was glad no one really believed that rumor.

Besides, most people were caught up in the debate I'd been having with myself all night: was I a hero? Or a murderer?

The other students seemed pretty split on that as well. Some said I'd done the right thing – "one less pervert on the street" – while others said I'd done the wrong thing – "she should have just taken him to the police!" – while still others tried to stay somewhere in the middle – "she shouldn't have killed him, but at least he's not a threat anymore."

The whispers did nothing to help me figure out my own thoughts.

I felt like I was going through an identity crisis. Who knew, maybe I was. I'd always liked Jason – the Red Hood – because he was willing to do what was necessary to get criminals off the street. I'd always criticized Bruce – Batman – for not doing so, and then crazies like the Joker kept escaping, and the cycle goes on and on until one of them dies.

But just because I'd always agreed more with Jason's ideas didn't mean that I'd wanted to go around killing people. Intimidate? Sure. Injure? Sure. But I'd never even considered that I would be the one pulling the trigger.

I'd always had that line. It had been blurry at best, and I'd known that, but it had still been there. I'd danced along it but I'd never crossed it. Until last night.

And I still didn't regret it.

See, that was what was getting to me. I'd crossed a line I'd made for myself. I should be freaking out. I should be crying and apologizing. Maybe even stop being a vigilante altogether. Instead, I felt the opposite. I felt powerful. I felt excited. I felt like I'd done the world a favor. I wanted to do it again. Just to the criminals, of course, but I still wanted to. I wasn't scared to.

And that scared me.

I knew that killing was a slippery slope. I was afraid that if I started killing criminals all willy-nilly like Jason, then I'd end up being a criminal myself. I liked the power – the control – of having someone's life in my hands. What if someday I ended up losing control of myself and ended up killing innocents? What if I ended up locked up in Arkham myself?

"Hey, you okay?"

I startled out of my thoughts. I looked up from my blank homework sheet to see Jasmine. I scooted over. She sat down next to me.

"I'm just a bit … shook up," I replied as truthfully but vaguely as I could.

"Oh, about the Cougar thing?" I nodded. "I think it's horrible. I hope the police arrest her."

I scoffed. "What? You think she did a bad thing?"

Jasmine smiled at me, although her brow furrowed, as if she wasn't sure what to make of me. "She killed someone. That's bad."

Well, she didn't have to emphasize it. I knew the difference between good and bad. Mostly. Except that this was definitely a gray area. "But the guy kidnapped and then killed a kid. I say he deserved it."

"No one deserves death. Only God should decide that. Cougar had no right to take his life away."

"And he had the right to take away a child's life?" I struggled to keep my voice down after a few wayward kids glanced over at me. "What? Was that his time, according to 'God'?"

"It was unfortunate, but –"

I stood up and collected my books. "No. Just, no. Don't you dare say what I think you're about to say. I won't hear it." As I shouldered my bad and turned to leave, I added, "If more vigilantes killed criminals like Red Hood and Cougar do, then Gotham wouldn't have to live in fear all the time."

"Those two aren't any better than the criminals they go after," I heard Jasmine snap. "At least Batman and Robin turn them over to the police."

"Right, because Batman and Robin are so perfect," I hissed, stomping away.

Tim pestered me about my behavior all the way back to the Manor. I ignored him and Alfred, opting to glaring out the window. As soon as the car stopped, I raced to my room, locked the door behind me, and laid face-down on my bed, screaming into my pillow.

I'd done nothing wrong.

I should be a hero. People should be praising me. I didn't want to be the next Batman, but I did want some recognition in some sort of positive light.

I wasn't a villain.

I desperately wished I had someone to talk to about this as tears of frustration and anger streamed onto my pillow. Bruce, Tim, and Dick were obviously out. Jason wouldn't care, at least, not in the way I needed currently. He'd tell me to toughen up. No hugs and 'it's all right's for me. Jasmine was definitely not an option, and probably Chance as well.

I had no one to turn to, so I just laid on my bed and cried.

I didn't know how long I stayed in my room, but eventually I got bored and ventured into the hallway. No one. After my frustrating day, I needed social interaction with my future family, even though I couldn't talk about what was really on my mind. It took me a while – the Manor is huge – but I finally figured out that everyone was in the Batcave.

I was about halfway down the stairs when I heard my name mentioned. Not my vigilante name, but my name. My heart skipped a beat. Why were they talking about me? And behind my back, no less? Had they found out that I was Cougar? Were they planning to arrest me?

I tiptoed down a couple more stairs so that I could hear better, although I still had to strain my ears a bit.

"–n't tell her," Bruce was saying.

"Why not?" Dick demanded. "If I was in her place, I'd want to know."

"Technically –" Tim started, but something – probably someone glaring at him – cut him off. "Okay, okay, but really. We shouldn't keep this from her."

"Her mind's already broken up about what she thought happened," Bruce said. "This would absolutely devastate her."

"What, like make her snap?" Tim sounded appalled.

I didn't understand. What were they talking about? What were they keeping from me? I was grateful that Dick and Tim seemed to support telling me the truth, but still. They were having a meeting behind my back. And Bruce seemed to think that whatever information they knew would make me go crazy.

I had to know more, but I couldn't see anything. I carefully made my way down a few more steps so that I could see the large computer screen in its entirety, making sure I was in the position to hide if the need came.

I didn't like thinking that I had to hide from them. I already hid my vigilante life from them. I'd hidden … him … from them. On second thought, maybe hiding wasn't such a bad thing.

The computer screen showed several online and scanned copies of newspaper articles. I scanned the large headlines first. My heart was in my throat. I recognized those headlines. My eyes ventured to the pictures shown. My face. The faces of my family. My still-burning house.

"But they're my family! Let me go! They're alright, they have to be alright!"

"We can't keep this from her, Bruce!" Dick shouted, thankfully pulling me out of my flashback. My hands felt clammy. I couldn't breathe. I clenched and unclenched my hands. I forced myself to look away from the computer screen and to focus on what the Batfamily had to say.

And what, exactly, did Bruce want to keep from me? It was a fire. My family died. End of story.

But suddenly I wasn't so sure.

"She's never recovered from losing her family," Bruce responded. "Do you want to be the one that causes her mind to completely crack?"

He really thought I'd turn crazy.

I probably would if I didn't get answers immediately.

"And besides, I'm not completely sure," Bruce went on.

"But …" Tim prompted.

"But it seems very unlikely that the fire was an accident."

I gaped. I'd thought my life couldn't get any worse. It just had.

Someone had murdered my family.

Someone had murdered my family.

I didn't wait to hear what else they had to say. I quietly made my way back to the main floor. I raced past Alfred, shouting back about how I'd forgotten to do an important research assignment and was going to the library.

It wasn't technically a lie. I was going to the library. And I was going to do some important research. It just wasn't for school.

Using the computers at the library meant that I didn't have to worry about the Batfamily walking in on me. I also had a habit of leaving tabs open on my laptop. At the library, I was a lot more careful about what I left in the internet history, much less what was open.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for, even as I read and re-read article after article after article. I wasn't Bruce or Tim. I wasn't an amazing detective. And, unfortunately, it showed when I had no proof of Bruce's claim. But he'd had to have gotten the idea that it was a murder and not an accident from somewhere. I just didn't know where to look.

As much as I hated it, I needed help.

ELLE: Can you do me a favor?

When I didn't receive a response straight away, I went back to the articles. I couldn't find anything within the articles themselves. Everything seemed to check out. Fire, me not home, blah blah blah. I fought against my shaking hands and pounding heart with every word I read, but I desperately needed to know.

If my family had been killed, then I wanted to know who did it.

It was getting late, so I erased my internet history and started walking back to the Manor. It was then that I finally received an answer to my text.

JASON: If it's important enough, I'll see what I can do.