Lucy
There's no other feeling like it in the world. One takes a running start, their foot falls through the nothingness of the last step, and for a moment, you can fly. Free falling, against the darkness and neon lights that cancel out the stars. My hair is ripped back against the wind. I can feel the cool air rushing like rapids against my face which is only concealed by an eye mask. Finally... I'm free.
"Lucille Wayne," the sound of my history teacher hurls me back into my current state. I'm a victim of society. I walk through a stream of people during the day, trying my best to blend in. It proves most difficult with the last name.
My father built this city from the ground up. Perhaps it's more accurate to say that the Wayne family did, but if they knew what I did... what he did for these people, they would say, "The Batman saved Gotham from ruin."
I raise my hand so I can be accountable in class. I go to a private institute funded by... you guessed it, my father. The Wayne Private Institute for a Brighter Tomorrow. Dad didn't want me to go to public school. He worried what the repercussions might be. At least soon I'll be graduating high school and be on my way to university.
I get under the skin of every authority figure I meet. I guess you could say I get that from my dad too. I spend a lot of time wishing I was anywhere, but here. My mind lingers to the changing of the leafs outside the classroom windows. I'm never here. Not really. My body shows up... or rather I drop it off here, as I try to navigate myself through yet another puzzle of the night that charges at me from a snail's pace and that of a lion's all at once. There's so much time, and yet never enough.
There's still crime in Gotham. The crime rate jumped to a peak during the years of my infancy. It didn't take long for my dad realize that the path he had chosen so many years ago, would continue to follow him like a life long sentence. He's put in more of his fair share of time. He wanted me to live a normal life. That seemed possible considering I didn't inherit my mom's abilities, but it was like she always tells me, "You belong to a legacy."
My mom and I... don't get me wrong, I love her. She's always there, but I've always felt such a connection with my father, for reasons I wasn't totally aware of at the time. When I turned sixteen, I had discovered my family's secret. Not only had they been Justice League members, but my father was Batman. My brothers were former Robins. It was at that time I discovered what belonging to a legacy meant.
I'm eighteen now and despite my father's wishes, I have continued my birth right. Gotham knows me as Bruce and Chelsea Wayne's daughter...
Gotham trash however...
"'Ey look, it's the Bat," smirked a wide nosed thug, "and he grew breasts!"
"Nah, man," remarked his buddy, "that one's definitely Batgirl. Don't you watch the news?"
"That was almost twenty years ago! Would you two shut up and shoot her already! We're running late!" their mob boss instructs them, lighting a cigarette.
My name hasn't become well-known among the streets yet, but in time, I hope to make the same impact my father did: a clenched fist of justice against the jaw of crime. I'm tied to a chair, letting them think they're getting away with the crime. I know wicked men too well. They need to twist the knife one final time. One of crime lord's men is pouring gasoline around the room. In the crime lord's hand he grips an ancient Zippo lighter, while he monologues about something or other.
My hands were unbound five minutes ago.
He grips my chin and licks his lips. His dilated pupils tell me he wants to keep me around and check under the hood. My long black hair crashes like waves in front of my chest as he begins his internal debate on whether to set the room ablaze or not. The smell of alcohol on his breath is nearly more potent than the gasoline fumes.
It's time to move. I kick a leg free from the chair I was bound to, grab the leg and bash it against the man's skull. He spirals back and I catch the Zippo lighter between my fingertips before doing a series of flips and kicks to disarm the other two guards. More would be filing up the nearby stairwell at the ruckus coming from upstairs so I grab the rest of the chair and swing it into the first one who comes in. I have my father's height on my side, and my mother's speed. My step brothers, who I have always referred to as my uncles taught me more self-defense than any woman should ever need. Not in this city. Not in this unforgiving world.
About a dozen men now lay at my feet and I round them up in groups of four, tying them together back to back on the floor. Now I wait for them to stir. I'll wait all night if I have to. The mob boss springs to life about twenty minutes later. I have him in the center, bound on the ground with his lackies surrounding him in a square formation. I sit on the lone desk in the room. My leg is propped up as I admire the Zippo lighter in my hands, "Glad to see you're coming to. Now you can give me some answers."
My boots collide with the wood floor and I strut up to the crime lord, squatting in front of him, holding up the lighter, "Should have opened a window." I say with an underline of sarcasm. The fumes that have been condensed in this place would be the catalyst for a small explosion. The men are thrown into a panic. They think I'm crazy enough to do it.
I know that I am.
"Wait, wait... I'll tell you anything! Anything you want!" cried the crime lord, pleading for his life.
A wife and her daughter had been kidnapped for ransom under the jurisdiction of this crime lord. He was a dime a dozen crook. To be honest I go to school with the daughter. She has never been kind to me or anyone for that matter, but if I learned one thing from dad it's this:
You are not one to judge the value of human life. They are all worth saving. Period.
He gives me the information, all of it. I toss the lighter into the air and catch it, making their hearts stagger to a stop one last time. I wander over to the nearby window, opening it to make my escape, "Remember the name... I'm not Batman or Batgirl... I'm the new reason you should tread lightly in the night... I'm Combatant." I'm still getting used to my title, but I came up with it all on my own. Old traditions die hard like that.
I phoned a familiar friend who had followed in her own father's footsteps and became Commissioner of Gotham Police. Barbara was always so kind to me. Like an aunt. She knows my true identity, but I try to keep my distance in the night. I only wanted her to know me as Lucy. It was easier that way.
I watched from a rooftop as the victims are reunited with the father and husband, Mick Rivera. He works for a rival company of Wayne Enterprises, but for the first time I see them as they truly are: human. A family who loves one another. Even their daughter has never looked more human to me. I am grateful for what I did tonight.
"You did good." I hear a voice from behind me. It's smooth and soothes away the aches I was feeling.
My shoulders relax for only a moment, before they tense again. My eyes narrow, "You're late again." I growl.
"Yeah," he agreed, taking a seat down beside me, like it was no big deal. He was always like that. I wish I could be half as calm as him. He smiled to himself, marveling over my good deed, "looks like you made it just fine alone."
"As I often do," I retorted dryly.
He's in a classic red and yellow suit with a fresh look. He has a bolt on his chest, just like the one his father wore back in the day. His name is Liam West. We've been best friends since diapers, though I'm a couple years older than him.
And I absolutely adore him.
He stands up, his powerful legs giving him the height to match mine. He smirks at me, "Heard they were reforming the Justice League... think you'll join?"
"I'm needed here..." I tell him, taking a deep breath.
His vibrant red hair tucks out from his suit in tuffs, "Like father like daughter." he muses, putting his arm around my shoulder.
My green eyes sparkle as I turn to slush at his touch. He's the only one on the face of the planet to make me this weak. What's worse is he knows it, "Like father like son." I mock him with a simple shake of my head and roll of my eyes.
Everyone says I'm a carbon copy of my dad... but with how much I've found comfort in Liam's companionship, I'd say I'm more like mom.
Author's notes: Here's a little peak into the future. I wanted people to get a feel for Lucy. That's why it's from her perspective. I'm sorry I've been gone so long. So many opportunities have come my way lately and I have just been so busy. If you've fallen in love with Lucy let me know and I may do some adventures that include her fighting crime with Liam West by her side and her journey reforming the Justice League, etc, etc. Or if you're curious about her being born and stuff I can go back to Chelsea, Bruce, and Wally. It all depends on your feedback so let me know. Thanks for reading and being patient with me guys~!
