Chapter One: Ten Years Later
Jack Montaigne was a simple man with simple needs. He worked forty hours each week, spent dinner with his family, spent Sunday mornings at the Gotham Christian Center. When he wasn't spending his free time working at the local youth center he built pieces of art for the community at no cost. He was a good man.
"Why the fuck is he after me for?" Jack cried in a panic as he swerved down the mostly empty streets of Gotham's industrial sector. His blue Porsche fishtailed as he took a corner too fast, knocking over a yellow yield sign. "Shit!"
Behind him he could see the large black motorcycle with its turrets and massive all terrain wheels in his rear view mirror. With a roar and spout of flames, it popped wheelie and speed up to him.
"Fuck!" Jack wasn't paying attention to the road didn't see the city bus until he clipped the end, sending him into an uncontrolled spiral. The chain link fence off to the right of the road crumpled and his car flipped once, teetered on its tires and slammed back to the ground.
"Fuck!" he screamed as he fought both the airbags and his racing heart. Scrambling quickly he unbuckled his seat-belt and tried the door. It barely budged. He tried throwing his weight into it. After three more tries it finally opened and he spilled out onto the asphalt. With adrenaline fueling his body he bolted away from the wreck and further into the factory complex.
He ran for five minutes before rounding a corner and ducking behind a large industrial size dumpster. Jack tried to listen for pursuit, but his breathing sounded too loud and his heart beat like a drum in his ears.
Waiting several minuets with no sign of the Bat, Jack decided it was safe to move. He would have to walk a ways before calling for a taxi to take him home. Two steps from his hidey hole he felt a large weight crash into him. Stumbling, he threw out his hands to catch himself. It was a mistake as his full weight landed on shards of broken bottles. With a scream of pain he cradled his hands and tried to stand back up, glass tearing into his flesh and clothes.
"What did I do to deserve this?" he he demanded. Looking at his assailant he saw it wasn't Batman, but the woman. Batgirl.
She stood tall, at 5' 8" with a dark black and gray suit with a blue Bat Symbol across her feminine chest piece. Her cowl, with its long pointed ears that made her look taller than she really was, exposed her long golden hair. Glowing blue eyes glared at him as her blue painted lips curled in a sneer with her fangs glistening in the night.
"You know damn well what you have done Jonathan Montaigne."
"This is all a misunderstanding!" Jack pleaded honestly. "I have done nothing wrong. Get you boss, hell tell you! I'm innocent!"
"Innocent? I saw you putting up that girls body like a trophy you sick bastard!" Confusion and anger ran threw Jack's mind.
"My art? That's what this is about?" his pain and fear quickly turned to anger. "My art is blessing to this city!"
"A Blessing?" with a snarl Batgirl delivered a right hook to Jack's jaw. "You call that a blessing?" Falling back to the pavement, realization struck Jack as hard as the punch.
"You're a racist," he accused. "You don't like my art because it depicts a Muslim girl in a positive light! God loves all his children, even those that don't follow His Son you hateful woman." He must has struck a nerve as she viciously kicked him back to the ground. He tried to get up to defend himself, but she straddled him and rained blow after blow to his face.
"Batgirl, that's enough." with just those three words the punching stopped and Batgirl got off of him, if only to argue.
"Why! He deserves it!"
"I have questions for him. He can't give them to me if he's brain damaged." Ice crawled up Jacks spine as the demonic voice echoed through out the night. He could not see where it was coming from.
Suddenly he was pulled by his feet into the air. He kept going and going until he was dozens of feet in the air, hanging upside down. Jack came to sudden stop and his eyes widened as he came face to face with a demon. Black skin stretched taunt over its skeleton, red glowing eyes shone with dark power and horns reached for the heavens in a dark parody of holiness. What Jack found most horrifying was that he could feel its breath brushing his face even though it had no mouth. Things with no mouths shouldn't be able to breath like that.
"Jack Montaigne, where is your base of operation?" it demanded.
"I-I-I-I don't know what you're talking about!" he managed to stutter out. "I don't have a base! I'm a good person, I swear to God!"
"Swear to me!" The Devil demanded. "Where you do your work?"
"I work at Miller and Son's accounting firm I swear." it wasn't the answer the Devil wanted. With a scream found himself falling. It was only a few feet, but it was enough to make him soil himself.
The Devil pulled him back up with his magic. "Were did you work on the girl!?" his tormentor demanded again.
"M-m-my wor-workshop? I-I-I Wuh-why? It's only art! I'm just trying to provide art for all the minorities. I'm a Social Justice Warrior!"
"You're a murderer! You've killed several teenage girls!"
"It's art to represent the people oppressed by the white people! It for diversity!" Jack tried to explain his innocent hobby.
"Where do you do it?" Crying, Jack couldn't take the Devils wrath anymore.
"I have a small work shop at the garage town on Hanley and Shadduck! Its number 118! The opener is in my car!"
The Devil brought his clawed hands close to Jacks chest, a red light of arcane power glowed in his hands in the shape of a bat. Searing pain burned into his chest and very soul. Inside Jack broke. He was a good man. He did good things to those in need and helped spread love and understanding of those oppressed by their perceived betters. And God had abandoned him to the Devil.
/\/\/\
Batgirl watched from behind Batman as her mentor branded the serial killer the press dubbed, "The Diversity Killer." She was angry at the man, Jonathon "Jack" Montaigne not Batman, for all his murders; the eight he posed at public school yards and parks and the three "botched" ones found a the Gotham recycling center. Each of the girls were a minority.
She wanted to hurt him, hurt him bad.
Batman wouldn't let her though. He never did. Said it changed a person when they hurt people deliberately. That was why did always did it. Said he was already changed.
Had she known him before he was Batman she might have agreed. But she only knew him as he was now so she couldn't know how drastically he changed in person, only by the stories.
Batman hadn't always branded rapist, pedophiles, and human traffickers. That, according to the news, started about eight, maybe nine, years ago. It was a death sentence to those who went to prison. Pedophiles never lasted long behind bars and Blackgate penitentiary inmates didn't care why you got the brand, only that you had it. It was an effective tool against traffickers, but not against rapist and pedophiles.
The psychopaths screams died out. According to the detective vision built into her cowl he was unconscious. Probably from a mixture of pain and fear. He had quite the reaction to the fear gas Batman used on him when pulling him up to the top of the silo they were on.
"Orders boss?" she asked.
"Go to the Nest. Eat and clean up. I don't care what order you do it in. I'll be there after checking the garage and phoning in to police." he said as let the killer down and zip-tied his arms behind his back.
"What about the bus?"
"The passengers are rattled and have a few bruises, but are otherwise fine. They were in the front of the bus."
"All right."
/\/\/\
The Monarch Theater was a historical sight in Gotham City, not for any good reasons though. It was the cite of the Wayne Murders forty-five to fifty years ago. Two shots from a small 9mm Glock ended the lives of Gotham's most beloved power couple and orphaned their young eight year old son.
Located in the now dubbed "Crime Alley," the theater had been renovated by young billionaire Timothy Jackson "Tim" Drake into a fancy home twelves years prior in the first step in a failed attempt to gentrify the area and turn it back into the once prestigious Park Row once again.
Now days it served as a local theater that played old classic black and white films for only two dollars per ticket. All proceeds when to local charity works and the theater was kept up an running by Tim Drakes personal money. It wasn't much for the small crime ridden area and probably bled money, but the older folks enjoyed it and so did some of the more morally sound families.
The real reason it was up kept though, not that the charity and cheep seats weren't a noble cause, was that underneath it was a hidden bunker used by Batman and his associates. The bunker was called the Birds Nest, Nest for short, and was Robins main pad back in the day when Robin was just a young lad whom Batman let have his own base of operations and solo adventures.
Those days were long gone. The Robin of now was pencil pusher, as much as a Super Hero could be a pencil pusher. Her job was not to help Batman in the field, not until she was old enough to vote and join the armed forces, but to help Batman with either Technical support with Oracles help, or to observe from a safe distance, usually in what ever vehicle was being used, and learn. Very rarely was she aloud to be put in harms way.
Right now, however, the Nest would serve as a place to eat, get clean, go over tonight's activities, and maybe possible sleep. Depending on how long Batman took to arrive and how long their mission debriefing went on for.
/\/\/\
It was five after 2 A.M. when Batgirl arrived at the Nest, the roar of her motorcycle echoing in the large space of the garage. It was one of the three entrances to the Nest and the one used most often. The access was strategic as the underground road was old abandoned subway tunnels that lead to several hidden ramps that lead to just about anywhere in Crime Alley in just under five minutes if one drove fast.
Parking her ride, Batgirl made her way up the stairs to the showers. A long night in the cold weather was enough to send her to hot waters first instead of hot food. Though it was a mild winter, most of the snow had melted off already, it was still cold enough to freeze water.
Stripping from her Batsuit, Elizabeth Harper Row let her blue dyed locks of hair free from her cowl and its built in blonde wig. It ways felt good to get out of the suit. It was by no means ill-fitting, it was combat attire and not exactly comfortable with its weight.
A warm shower and a change into her civvies, leather pants, biker boots, a black shirt with a Jolly Rodger graphic design, and leather jacket. She found her Chinese take-out and warmed it in the microwave. During her wait she checked her text messages. She had one from Cullen, her younger brother saying he was ordering pizza from Bethany's and that there would be some for her when she got back from work. Hopefully he remembered to wrap it and put it in the fridge this time.
She was in the middle of eating her dinner and listening to Black Sabbath's Mob Rules when the loud roar of the Batmobile filled her ears. Batman was back from finishing up with Jack Montaigne. Harper turned off her music.
"I heated you up some left over Chicken Alfredo. It's still in the microwave." Batman always preferred to eat, before showering. With only a grunt for acknowledgment he disappeared into the kitchenette. A few minutes later, Batman had to heat his food some more, he reappeared.
They ate in silence, Harper in her civvies and Batman in full costume. It must have looked awkward to any outside observer. Hell it felt awkward to Harper. "Could you at least remove your cowl when we eat?"
Batman paused, almost as if surprised. Surprised she asked to to take off the cowl or that he forgot he was still wearing it Harper wasn't sure. It wouldn't be the first time for either of those reasons. He pulled his cowl off, the weird way if framed and moved with his lips perfectly always unnerved her. Of course that was probably the point, but she had no idea how it worked.
Tim Drake looked exhausted, which meant he looked mildly tired to anyone who didn't know him. He had likely not slept the last few days while working out this latest case. He pieced together the approximate time and place the Diversity Killer would display his latest victim, one Sabella Nader, a U.S. born Pakistani age 16.
Thinking of Jack's "art" made Harper's stomach curl. "How could Jack possibly believe we would think he is innocent?" she asked once Tim finished his dinner.
"Because in his eyes he's innocent," he replied. "Jack is a psychopath, he can't fathom what he is doing is wrong. The utter lack of remorse and indignant response to our accusations is quite normal for a psychopath."
"So why the fear gas?"
"Psychopaths can feel fear, but not recognize when they're in danger, I had to make him feel the danger and fear gas was the quickest way to do it."
"I think it may have been too strong a dosage. He pissed himself." Batman answered with a grunt.
"Batman, Tim," Harper asked suddenly with a bit of unease. "When my dad gets out of jail, will you brand him?"
Tim paused and considered the question carefully. "Has he done something to warrant such punishment?" he asked looking Harper straight in the eye. He had suspicions, but no concrete evidence on why his protege asked.
Harper fiddled with her fork and empty Chinese takeout box. "No. But if he did would you?" Tim studied her face for a few seconds before answering.
"Yes."
"Hmm. It's late I have work in the morning." she said abruptly. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
"You owe the swear jar two-fifty."
"What? I didn't cuss tonight."
"Oracle," Tim spoke to the air.
"Batgirl dropped one F-bomb, made two references to female dogs, and question the legitimacy of Jack's birth," answered a mechanical female voice from the Nest's P.A. system.
"Traitor," Harper muttered underneath her breath. "Okay, look I don't have any money on me, so could I not pay it this time?" Tim rubbed his chin in contemplation.
"I suppose you could always wax the Wayne ballroom floor again."
"I get paid on Friday, you'll have your money then."
"Good. Ace could use a new dog bed."
"Again?"
"He's a puppy, he'll likely need a few more."
"All right," Harper sighed. "I will see you tomorrow Tim. Well, later tonight I guess."
/\/\/\
Tim watched Harper Row leave in her own personal motorcycle. He hoped his distraction with the swear jar took her mind of her father and Jack tonight. She really did need a good nights rest and dark thoughts did not make for good sleep. With a stretch he stood up and headed to the showers.
His night was not over yet. He still needed to file his mission report and check Robin's homework before he could even think about sleep.
/\/\/\/\
It was nearing three in the morning when Harper finally made it home to her two bedroom single bath apartment. Moving quietly, she checked on her brother in his room. He was fifteen, nearly four years her junior. She watched him sleep with a smile on her face. It was always nice to know that he was safe, from bullies or her father.
Soon as Harper Row turned sixteen she filed for emancipation and fought for custody of her brother. It helped that her father was in jail at the time and she bribed the right people with the money she made from her… unsavory job.
Those were tough days. Harper had to learn that there was more to being an adult than just making sure that her brother had food and went to school. The first couple of months on her own, before she had official custody of her brother, she could barely keep a roof over her head and had to stay at shelters a few times. It was a bitter pill to swallow to admit that her father did actually provide for them, even if it wasn't much.
Tim, or rather Batman, changed all that for her. Not only did he save Harper and Cullen's life, but eventually he gave Harper a job after she tracked him down weeks later and impressed him with her homemade stun gun.
But that is s story for another time.
Stifling a yawn, Harper headed to her room, changed into her pajamas, short blue gym shorts and a wife beater, and promptly went to bed.
/\/\/\/
The next day came entirely too soon. Her damn alarm clock blaring across from her room It had to be placed far away so that she would have to physically get up out of bed to turn it off so that she wouldn't just go back to bed. It was 9:00 A.M. and Cullen would have already left for school.
Groggily Harper began preparing for her day. Dressing in a clean pair of carpenter pants, boots, and a non-descriptive work shirt. Eating a cold slice of pepperoni and sausage pizza, Harper headed off to work on the bus. No sense in using gas if she could help it.
The bus ride was nice and boring, Harper had to listen to some music on her phone to keep from drifting off too sleep. She would have made some coffee that morning, but her coffee maker broke the other day and she hadn't had the time to fix it. At least work had great coffee.
Harper worked at WayneTech building number seven. There she worked with small crews and top of the line technology to build the Batman's cool toys such as his grappling gun, various, Batarangs, to larger items like new Batmobiles. The occasionally did commissions for S.H.I.E.L.D such as custom body-armor and "civilian" armored vehicles.
Arriving at work in nicer side of the industrial district, Harper used her key card and password to enter the security gate. With a brief greeting to Mr. McMurry the security guard, Harper entered in a small office building. Near the back in an area not covered by security cams, Harper slid open the hidden keypad and entered her password. 080118-160518.
The walls split seamlessly revealing an express elevator. The elevator only had one other floor a fifty feet below. Arriving at her destination, she stopped as she was greeted by sight of her boss discussing a project with Harper's colleague's. Dr. Hank McCoy and Luke Fox, the heads of their little workplace.
What really made Harper stop though was the sight of Tamara "Tam" Fox leaning over the work desk that was used for blue prints and staff meetings. She was dressed in a nice red blouse that contrasted nicely with her luscious black hair and flawless caramel colored skin. Her black pencil skirt framed her shapely ass nicely and Harper could see the outlines of Tam's garter-belt and thong. Seamed stockings ran up her long legs, accentuated by her six inch high heels.
Harper was more than aware of her crush on her boss. When they first met, a misogynistic, homophobic man had referred to the two of them a "dyke and her clam chowder." Harper had never seen a woman give any human being such a verbal beat down with the cool detachment of a Queen passing judgment.
She found it hot.
"Ah, Elizabeth," Dr. McCoy was the first to notice Harper. He stood at 5'11" and was covered in blue fur and had yellow eyes peering through small, round glasses perched on a feline face.
"Morning Doc." she greeted and hoped she wasn't caught staring with her lower lip between her teeth. "I thought you were working nights?"
Harper herself worked the swing shift and so was familiar with the morning and night crew, though there was only ten or so people involved in their work, including Harper and Tam who only oversaw projects.
"Oh, I am. Ms. Fox and eye were just discussing a commission made by a friend of both mine and your other boss." Harper's other boss being Tim Drake, the Goddamn Batman. "Oh don't look so surprised. Everyone who works at WayneTech building number seven knows the secret. It's how we got the job."
"I knew that," she lied.
"Speaking of which," Luke said. "Congratulations on a job well done last night."
"Thanks."
Luke Fox was the older brother of Tam and had an exciting past. He was an enlisted Marine for four years, joined the Peace Corps, and most impressive, had once been the vigilante known as Batwing; he didn't know it was the name of Batman's jet until after he picked the name. It wasn't until he lost a leg at Metropolis ten years ago that he retired from a physically active life and more towards R&D like his father before him.
Luke job was not only to design the tools that Batman used, but to make and test them in simulated field conditions. His military background giving him an understanding in tactical needs of the equipment. Something Dr. McCoy lacked.
""Morning Ms. Row," Tam spoke. "I don't mean to be curt, but we are on a time crunch at the moment with this commission and I still have things to discuss with Dr. McCoy and Luke."
"Go ahead and get started on the wiring on the system wiring on the sub." Luke said.
"Sure thing."
The "Sub" was actually a submersible that S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted for exploration up in the Arctic. Why they needed it and why it needed to be able to survive winter conditions in the Arctic Harper didn't know. If Batman knew, he wasn't going to tell her.
Making a quick cup of Joe, Harper began going over her list of wiring parts and tools. Two hours into work found Harper in the bowls of the mini-sub when Luke approached her.
"Harper, I need you up hear." Luke called to her in a grave voice.
"Give me a minute."
"Meet me in my office." That sounded ominous. The sinking feeling grew only worse and she saw the concerned looks Luke and Tam were giving her.
"You may want to sit down for this." Tam suggested with a somber face.
"Why? What's going on?" Harper asked in growing alarm.
"Sit." Once Luke was satisfied he took a deep breath. "There has been a mutant attack at Hamilton High."
\/\/\/\
A/N:
Man this whole last part with Harper Rows work was dreadful to write and I am sure that it shows. I had to rewrite several parts a couple of times and I'm still not satisfied.
Anyways, as you can see this is not going to be your typical merging of DC and Marvel. I am shooting for something unique here and I hope to deliver.
So be sure to tell be you thoughts and hopes for this story and its future. I do love me some reviews.