Have you ever listened to someone you love die?

My answer is yes. I've listened to seven people I love die. One by one they or someone else took their lives, each over the telephone or television—driven by their own insanity. I was in Wayne Tower with my friend on a school tour.

First I listened to my mother die. Screaming before she hit the ground.

Second, I heard my eldest brother die. He jumped into the river—thinking an alien was chasing him.

Third, fourth, and fifth, I listened to my little sisters die—via the nearest television—by having someone deranged hang them.

Sixth was my father on my cell phone, jumping after my mother on the other side of the Narrows.

Seventh was my twin brother—who told me how he knew Batman would save him as a maniac laughed in the background and placed a timed bomb on the ground.

That's why I became what I was during the Joker killings.

A Batgirl among Batmen.

A Dark Knight/Batman Begins Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own "The Dark Knight", "Batman Begins", or any products mentioned in this fanfiction. They belong to their rightful owners and creators. Nicole//Batgirl belongs to me, as does her foster mother—Andrea, Marcus, Gino—her manager, and all original characters: meaning if you haven't heard of a character before, they're probably mine.

As I sat on my worn-out bed, I held tight to an almost-full-head mask, formed like the Batman's cowl. The night before I had gone to the Narrows and captured the man who'd killed my sisters, it wasn't very hard to do, but getting him to come along was harder. But I still got him turned in at the police station. I wanted charges—I wanted that man to suffer for what he did.

"Lights out, Miss Strange!" barked the land lady from the room across the hall. "I don't want you staying up late watching that crime, got it? Heaven forbid you're messed up enough!"

Well, my last name was Strange, wasn't it?

But she was guardian over me until I turned eighteen in two month's time—so I obeyed her orders and turned off the light and closed the door. I waited thirty long minutes in the dark and let my eyes adjust before digging though my closet for my suit.

It took me three minutes to find it, all the while the sounds of screams and screeching tires wafting up through the window and to my ears. Silently, I slipped into the suit, a black turtleneck made out of highly resistant material, a black miniskirt, black leggings, boots, the mask, and a gold belt.

After it was all on, I slipped out the window and climbed down the fire escape, knowing where I would go on my brother's old Harley—painted grey. I was heading to inner Gotham, where real crime happened.

As the Harley revved, I smirked. This was the sound I liked to hear, grumbling motors and screeching tires. Most people didn't like me for that, but I just let them deal with it, they weren't me. I wasn't them, and that's all that mattered at the moment.

The engine revved again as I traveled over the bridge and entered Downtown Gotham. My speed dramatically decreased as a large black tank sped past me, leaving me wide-eyed and surprised. Eventually I stopped, not comprehending what I'd seen, disbelieving.

"Hey, Little Miss Sunshine, what's a pretty lady like you doing in such a spotty place like this?" a drunken voice crooned from the darkness. Soon a large man stumbled from the alleyway, a bottle in his right hand, and a cigarette in the other. "You should have some protection from the shady men in these parts."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't count, do you?" I inquired, my grip tightening on the handlebars of my Harley. The man chuckled and bumbled closer to me before proceeding to yank me off the motorcycle while dropping the cigarette. "What are you doing?" I spat.

"Taking ya somewhere safe, little lady."

I growled. "No you're not. You're taking me to your place, aren't you? You're gonna' get me drunk." The man nodded. Once again I growled, "Try another plan." Before landing a kick in the knee. He buckled to the ground.

"Oh, a feisty one…" a new voice called from the opposite side of the street. "I like you."

"Don't you dare try doing the same or you'll end up in the hospital with a broken nose."

I rolled my eyes as the new man laughed. "Ah my darling child, so witty. Maroni will like that. Why don't you stop playing dress-up and take off the mask."

"You. Wish." I spat through my teeth.

"Oh, don't play like that. How about you tag along with me tonight, I have a meeting with a certain dealer."

That sparked my interest. "What dealer?"

"Chechen."

My eyebrows rose, "Really? Well, I guess I must, if such an honored dealer is there." The rouse was formed in a mere moment. "Maybe I can take off my mask if you're taking me to my dealer as well."

"You buy from Chechen?" The man inquired as he stepped out from the shadows, staring at me curiously. I nodded as the man drew a handkerchief from his pocket. "Let's go, then."

Self-consciously, I pulled the cowl from my head, my hair falling out from the up-fold I'd made to fit the French plait I'd done to keep my hair out of harm's way.

As I approached him, his hands latched onto my wrists and pulled them behind my back. I let out a loud groan of pain while trying to grit my teeth. "Who are you?"

"Just someone in charge of leverage," the man said soothingly, dragging me along through the alley to a black minivan. I was lifted up and placed on his shoulder, my hands now tied by a tight knot. "In case something goes wrong, we'll use you."

I let out a loud screech. "Put me down!"

"You got someone?" a rough voice asked as I was placed in the back of the van. The man who had tied me up tied a different handkerchief over my eyes.

"Yeah. Must be hooked on something, dressed in some bat get-up."

"You mean you caught a Batgirl?" the other laughed. Something soft and silky was used as a gag in my mouth. I could feel something tie around my ankles.

I struggled against the binds, growling to the best of my ability.

"Guess so. Do you think boss will like her as leverage?"

"Yeah. He'll go for anything. Scarecrow wouldn't let someone kill a girl, right?"

"At least she ain't drunk."

The second man laughed. "She's a fighter though, I have to admit that."

Fighter, I'd show them a fighter. I wanted to tear the men's eyes out, show them I wasn't going to be a pawn, I wasn't just some tool for them to use! How dare they use me?

"How close are we to the rendezvous?" the first asked, setting me upright in a seat.

"Pretty close. We'll be there soon."

"Hopefully there ain't no Batmen tonight, am I right?" the other asked in jive.

I could hear the tires screech as the car whipped around corners. Before I could guess where the vehicle was, I heard the engine being cut, a door opening, and felt my body being pulled out and pushed to the ground. It hurt as my left shoulder hit concrete.

I made a muffled complaint as my collar yanked me up.

I could hear dogs barking. The blindfold was untied, as were my legs, allowing me to know where I was, a parking garage.

"Please, they're crawling in my mouth. Please I beg you, get them off." A boy about my age was pleading as he was dragged out of the van. My eyes landed on the big white van surrounded by men with guns.

"Who is this?" Chechen pointed at me, looking puzzled.

"We call 'er Batgirl. Found her on a motorcycle."

"Please, please get them off me!" the man begged again. "They're in my mouth, please!"

I glared at Chechen and snarled.

"Look what your drugs do to my customers!" Chechen yelled at the van, pointing to the man on the ground.

An oddly familiar voice sent shivers down my spine.

"Buyer beware."

I snarled again and fought against the grip on my shoulders. Not him. If I was, I was going to rip his hair out, make him pay…do anything to make him sorry.

"I told you my compound would take you places."

My compound was going to take him places, that was for sure. Once I got my hands on him. I struggled harder while Scarecrow got out of the van.

"I never said they'd be places you wanted to go."

I bet he didn't want to go to County, but so help me he was if it were up to me.

Chechen stepped forward. "My business, repeat customers!"

"If you don't like what I have to offer, you can buy from someone else. Assuming Batman left anyone to buy from."

The dogs started barking louder than before, pulling against their leaches. Chechen made it clear, "My dogs are hungry!"

My eyes landed on a shadow at the edge.

"Pity there's only one of you."

A lackey yelled from behind the van. I rolled my eyes, there were more, two more, as far as I could tell. One of them—the first one—cocked a gun.

How low could they bend?

The gun was fired, taking out one of the windows. My shoulders were released as the man holding me let go of me to save himself.

Scarecrow backed into the van again. "That's not him!"

"LOOSE THE DOGS!"

The order was obeyed and the dogs were released, attacking the nearest imposter Batman.

"GET THE GIRL BACK IN THE VAN!"

What?

Two pairs of arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me to the ground. A loud crash sounded over the gunshots, followed by the large black tank from earlier that night bursting through the wall. Gunshots were fired at the black vehicle, all of them bouncing off with a series of clanks.

It was then the tank's turn to fight back, firing what seemed missiles at the wall and a van. The van I was supposed to be in.

Two different, stronger arms pulled me off the ground and hoisted me over his shoulder. I caught a glimpse of a more certain figure of Batman jumping onto the white van as I was being carried off, I banging my combined fists against my captor's back and flailing my legs in an attempt to be let go.

Someone pulled the gag away from my mouth as they ran past.

The man carrying me pulled a gun from his hip and shot at the black-costumed man on the van, as I could see from under his arm.

I squealed in terror, "No!"

The man swung me off his shoulder and placed me by a ledge. "Stay here and stay quiet." He ordered as he retied my hands to the railing above my head.

"You brute!" I shouted, trying to kick him, barely noticing as Batman got up and jumped onto another ledge, waiting for a moment before leaping off. "How could you? How could you be so heartless!"

"It's me job." He muttered, pulling the gag over my mouth again. I jerked my leg upward, scoffing as it landed square under his jaw. "Ugh! What's your problem?" He growled, bringing his hand across my face before running off.

I blinked away stinging tears.

I could hear the Batman scolding some of the imposters below. I couldn't break the bond; I didn't want to break my wrists doing it, if I could.

Screeching tires met my ears, the tank whipped around the nearest corner, then halted with a screech. The top of the tank rose to reveal the Batman, looking commanding and serious.

"Who are you?" his voice sounded like crunching gravel.

I rolled my eyes while moving my jaw to maneuver the gag from covering my mouth. "I'm Nicole." I whispered once the gag was out of the way.

"Why are you here, Nicole?"

"I got taken by a thug in the alleyway on the way home from my friend's house. We were studying for a test."

He got down from the tank and walked towards me. "You were alone?"

"Yes."

"Did you have a cell phone?"

"Couldn't afford one," I admitted, curling my legs to my chest.

He was less than a foot away as he started to untie the rope around my wrists. "You're at college?"

"High school, actually. I'm seventeen, nearly eighteen. Foster kid. An orphan, basically, no one would take me in after the insanity in the narrows."

"I see."

"Is this an interrogation? I seriously didn't choose to be here, if that's what you're asking."

"That's not what I'm asking."

My hands fell to the ground, as the bond was broken. "Thank you. But what are you asking?"

"I'm asking why you're dressed in black from top to bottom."

I scoffed. "I was going to ask the same about you."

"Don't mess with me," he warned as he returned to his tank.

"Of course, Mr. Batman. I promise I'll be good. You'll never catch me being captured again."

Truthfully, I wondered if he caught the fact that I wasn't in high school…or school at all. It was just…not worth it to me. I had dropped out when my family died. No one really cared, not even my foster mother—which was a relief—no one had noticed me at school anyway.

I gingerly placed my middle and index fingers on a blossoming bruise on my cheeks. It was a vibrant purple splotch that couldn't be denied even with the best cover-up makeup. It stung to even touch the mark, covering over half of my face in the pattern of the thug's hand from my forehead to my chin.

"Miss Strange! Get out of that room or so help me I will break this door down!"

I rolled my eyes. "It's your place." I sighed. "Knock yourself out."

"Why you ungrateful little…"

I growled and pulled open the door. "Fine! I'll go to work." I growled, already pushed over the edge by my legal guardian. It irked me that I wasn't eighteen; that I could move out of this place.

I hadn't gotten far the previous night, and my Harley was still where I'd left it. Sliding the helmet over my head, I revved the motorcycle to life. I swung my left leg over the seat and headed off.

My job was a latte girl at Starbucks. I worked at making coffee eight-to-five everyday before coming back to my, quote-unquote, home. But everyday at eight fifteen a boy my age would come in and buy three lattes for him and his buddies while he tried to chat me up.

As I arrived at my post, I could hear the fast Italian of my manager.

"Ragazza senza valore! Tardi ancora! Così aiutimi, se siete l'un nuovo tempo tardo, io vi licenzierà."

I groaned at the threat. Worthless girl! Late again! So help me, if you're late one more time, I'll fire you. I tied a green apron over my jeans and blouse.

"I know, I know. So, io, so. I'm sorry, I'll never be late again, prometto!" I pleaded as the bell rung at the door. My eyes flew to the clock. Eight fifteen. It was him; Marcus, the flirt.

"Good morning my coffee flower! How are you this wonderful morning?" Marcus rested one arm on the counter. I moaned and looked up from my fingernails.

"I'm terrible, I ran into a wall last night. What do you want?" I muttered, already preparing his usual.

"You know full-well, Nicole, you're already making it."

I cast a glare at Marcus. "Well pay up. You know the price."

"No frequent drinker credit?"

"No."

"Come on, Niccy…just this once?"

"You're pazzo! Do you want me to get fired?" I hissed.

"I'm what-o?"

"Pazzo! Crazy!" I retorted, pushing his three lattes to him. "Now pay up or I'll tell my manager that you're not paying full price, and he'll throw you out!"

"For you, my love, I'll do anything!"

I growled and held out my hand, demanding the money. "Don't sweet-talk me, just PAY me."

The jerk pecked me on the cheek.

"IDOITA! SCATTO! PERMESSO!"

"Nicole!" My manager barked from behind me in his scolding voice. "Do not insult my customers."

"Your 'customer' refuses to pay full price and thought kissing me without permission sufficed as pay," I spat, pointing to Marcus. "He does this every day! But now he has taken this over the edge."

Marcus shied away from the counter.

"Is this true, sir?" Gino sounded enraged.

Marcus nodded.

"Pay the full price or leave without your drinks. Is my policy! Pay now."

I smirked. "And for good measure, please stop flirting with me. I'm just not that into you."

Marcus frowned and slapped the money down on the table, proceeding to grab the drinks and head out without another word.

"Nicole. You can't let customers flirt with you."

"I DON'T let them flirt with me. I tell them to stop and they don't listen. No one listens to me, I'm the worthless girl, remember?" I paused and sighed, then winced at the sharp pain on the side of my face with the bruise. "And it's just one guy."

"One guy that comes by every. Single. Day."

I moaned and let my head drop onto the counter. "Ungh…."

"Maybe you should give the boy a chance."

"Not on your life, not on mine," I mumbled under the mess of my hair. "I don't like to chase boys that chase me."

"You play hard-to-get, huh?"

"Sure, let's go with that," I sighed.