Chapter Four

"If this doesn't work out, then you know you're going to die." I remind Bruce. I'm mounted on a gargoyle of a nearby building across from the Ball. Bruce sure goes overload with his parties. He said there was forty-five hundred and sixty-five people left in Gotham, and my Detective Mode shows that there's like six hundred of them. Bruce contacts Alfred. "Any sign of Deadshot yet?"

"None yet, sir. I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks." Replies Bruce.

Over the comms, I hear a woman greet Bruce with a kiss on the cheek. Typical greeting. The comm is picking up a bevy of communication in the room, and it's more definite the closer the voice is. The woman greets herself as Selina Kyle. Sweet voice, Purring, almost. Bruce asks Selina. "So, what's a woman like you doing in Gotham City?"

"Girl's gotta make a home somewhere. Not like there's much of a home here right now, though. What the hell happened to it?"

"A little incident involving Gotham's Old Mayor initiating an attack on Gotham City, sentencing the corrupt and the innocent to Death By Fire."

There's a pause, and Selina answers back in a frightened tone but still keeping her purring voice. "Well, I can see why you offered to do this then."

I hear a whisper over the comms. It's her. Pray she doesn't see the ear comm. Unless she's whispering in the other ear. Her voice chilling but comforting. "Who protects you when you need it the most?"

She takes a deep breath, exhaling. Bruce answers strangely, whispering in her ear now. "I don't need saving. Unless, of course, you're working with Deadshot."

She giggles, responding. "Oh no, I have no idea who that is."

Her next whisper is quieter, as if it'd take a dead silent room to hear it. "But why don't you hang out with me sometime?"

Bruce talks back to her. They mustn't be whispering anymore. "What's the catch?"

Selina giggles. "Oh, Bruce, what'd you take me for?"

"The question is, what do you take me for?"

This pause indicates Selina is most likely thinking, and then she goes on to say. "A Billionaire Philanthropist. What about me?"

"A woman looking for a good time."

She laughs silently. She responds back. "Bruce, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you think you're better than me."

Alfred's voice comes over the comms, announcing that Deadshot's shown up on the radar. Bruce remarks to Selina. "Then we should make a date."

"Maybe we should."

Alfred sends the coordinates to my suit and it shows up on my left gauntlet like a map. I reply back to Alfred. "I'm on it."

I fire my Grapnel Gun and my way to Deadshot, trying not to be seen. Even if this suit can protect me from bullets, I'm not sure what his bullets will do. I hear a kiss over the comms as Selina comments. "What'd you think? Cherry Vanilla."

Bruce takes time to do a taste test of all things right now, but he's making a great effort of not being afraid and stalling. I'll give him that. Bruce answers playfully. "it's all right."

Selina giggles lightly and kisses him again. "Well then, you're got yourself a date."

"Wayne Manor, tomorrow night?"

"It's a date. And when?"

Bruce makes a remark. "Anytime you want."

"Brilliant." answers back Selina who sneaks in another kiss, apparently walking away. Alfred's voice comes over the comms. "Nice to hear you've found a charming date, Master Wayne."

I get closer to Deadshot as the beacon pulses faster. I make an effort to move quicker and I'll have to sneak up behind him, most likely. Bruce gave me an EMP Device to add to my list of gadgets earlier today, and I can use that to disable Deadshot's gun. Only when I need to do it. And only when I'm close enough, too. I hear a voice not over the comms. But nearby. Deadshot's. It's a middle-aged voice with some excitement within his tone. "My lucky day."

I'm at the building now. I shoot the Grapnel Gun at a reachable point on the roof and let the Batsymbol I fired from the gun attach itself to the edge of the roof. I front flip onto the roof and I hear Deadshot say another thing. "For the Richest and Most Powerful Person in Gotham, I'll be happy to take my fifty billion now."

Just as he's about to pull the trigger, I disable his gun and he gets angry. He gets up on his feet, tossing his sniper to the ground in frustration and turns around to see me. He shouts in fear. "Who are you?"

"Batgirl."

I swing a punch his way and probably ended up shattering his cheekbone. I catch him in time to save him from falling to his death, and drop him on the roof. Either I hit him harder than I thought I would, or he's more focused on being a Sharpshooter than a body builder. I confirm that Deadshot is down and Bruce congratulates me, so does Alfred. Moments later, I turn him into the authorities and think of heading back to the Cave, but Alfred reassures me. "Rest Ms. Gordon. You've done a lot for us and for Gotham. The least you deserve is a goodnight's sleep."

He is right, though. Bruce agrees with Alfred and tells me. "We'll still be here

tomorrow."

Lately, I've seen a different side of Bruce. One that's less strict, more refined. Which is good. I contact them over the comms. "All right, I'll do it. But I'm heading back to the Cave to switch out of this suit."

"No worries." Comments Alfred. When I do, I don't really sleep but I sit in a chair in the living room where my mother and father used to teach me to read. It's a chair we just couldn't get rid of. After hours into a book, I hear the one thing I had forgotten about. Joker's laugh. He's here. The laughter silent but present. It sends chills down my spine. I set my book down and rotate my lamp to a point where I can find him in the darkness. Nowhere. He's probably hiding behind a wall. I stand up and reach for my Batarang in my belt-Oh no. No. I put my fists up and search this level of this house. I turn on the lights and he pops up in front of me. I clasp my mouth with my hands, muffling the scream. The Joker keeps laughing as he holds a gun, pointing at my waist, shooting me through it with a single bullet. My dad's not home yet, probably still at the station. Joker planned this perfectly. Come home to a dying daughter who's in more pain than she should be. And a daughter that's bleeding out, but the flow is steady for now as I lie flat on the ground, helpless to stop him now. Needless to say, blood is running out of my waist where I was shot. The Joker stops laughing and begins speaking. "Do you have any idea how much it hurts when you take a life?"

He's lying, I know he is. He has to be. There's no way he'd do what he does with a heart. "To see someone's world shatter before your eyes, knowing they never stood a chance in this world."

He snickers quietly. "So, if you want to take mine,"

He then does something so cruel I wish I could get up and punish him for this. He sets the gun within inches reach of one of my hands. And because I'm immobilized, and because I can't move, he taunts me with the gun. And places a knife aside my other hand. And a clown flower in my waist where I was shot. The flower doesn't seem to be as cruel as the knife and the gun, and he ends up sitting in my reading chair, crossing his legs and resting his crossed hands on his knee. He begins laughing at my struggle, at my pain. He calms down for a moment and wipes away a tear that isn't there. He reaches for a handkerchief in his trench coat and wipes away his fake tears, reminding me. "But, of course, all good things come to an end. Am I right?"

He stuffs the handkerchief back into his trench coat. He complains. "C'mon! Choose one already! I'm not getting any younger and you're not dying any faster!"

He wants me to choose between the gun or the knife, which are both out of my reach. Then it occurs to me. The flower is to help drag one to my side so I can use it against him. I can't use the knife since I can't throw like this, and I can't use the gun because I can't kill. I wish I could, but I won't. He gets frustrated and picks up the gun, hovering it over one of my hands and throws it away. He gets on top of me as he intends to hurt me, to drive me insane. To do what I've had to do all this time. To kill him. But I can't. I won't. Joker comments on my condition. "If only you knew how much potential I saw in you."

He goes into the kitchen and makes a glass of hot steaming water to dump on my face. It's hard to scream when you have a hole in your waist, when you think of one of the things you need to talk. Joker gets out another gun and points it at his throat, hoisted upwards. Gun ready and finger in position. "Y'know, this isn't as much fun."

He gets on top of me again, laughing. He puts my hands on the gun and positions them to pull the trigger, but I won't. Joker counts to five and tells me that I need to shoot him in that time. Tears stream down my eyes again. Tears of pain. Of hate. Of helplessness. When I don't shoot him, Joker remarks after sighing boringly. "I always thought we had something special. After what we've been through. You watch me kill hundreds of lives, and you let me get away with it?"

He hits me in one of my cheeks and shouts. "What is WRONG with you!?"

He hits me again and grabs my cheeks with his hands, a little too tightly. He wipes away a tear with a knife and slowly slides across my left cheek. "I always thought that, since you rode along my train on insanity, you'd see something in me."

I try to spit back at him, as angrily and fiercely as I dare. "You're a soulless son of a bitch. And I will never play your game."

He punches me again and grabs my cheeks. I keep striking back at him. "I will never, ever, play your twisted game Joker."

He grits his teeth, he's getting angry, and he keeps beating my cheeks until I think he's broken them. I'll still talk him down since it's all I can do. "I will go to the grave, honoring the vow I made."

He's about to cut one of my cheeks when I strike back at him again. "You don't care about a person's life. You don't care what happens to anyone. And you don't give a damn about what goes on in people's lives. You're here solely to destroy Gotham!"

He cuts open a part of my cheek. It wasn't that big of a cut, but it still hurts. Joker's body is tensing up. "Nothing will make me give in to your insanity!"

He cuts both sides of my checks with a bigger cut, and beats my cheeks again, this time taking off his gloves, beating me with his bare hands. In between punches, I scream at him. Scream that I'm not someone that can be corrupted so easily. Scream that I'm not a pawn. I'm not playing his game. I'm better than he is. When the Joker is done, his hands are a little bloody. "I hope you're happy now." Complains the Joker.

He leans back down to me and is about to cut another hole in one of my cheeks when I spit back at him. "Go to Hell."

"Too late." strikes the Joker. And as he hoists his knife upwards, pointing at my chest where my heart is, he's about to stab me to death when my father comes in and quickly grabs his gun. Joker finds his faster and shoots my dad twice in front of me, but shoots the Joker's shooting arm once. I spit back my blood in his face and, as he's blinded, my dad kicks him to the ground, knocking him down. The Joker gets up and my dad grabs the Joker's arm before he can make a swipe of his knife at my dad's calves, and punches the clown as hard as he can in the face twice, knocking him out. For now. I'm amazed at my dad's ability to fight back against the Joker. Those bullet wounds are a different story. My dad calls the ambulance and, before I go out, I thumb-print my watch on my left arm. Used to contact Bruce or Batman in time of need, invented by Bruce Wayne. I wake up on a bed in the Batcave with Bruce waiting for me to wake up. When I do, I await a lecture. But there isn't one. Instead, I get something more. "Thank God you're all right."

I smile and Bruce's face turns grim, remarking. "Now, for the bad news."

My smile vanishes and I have to ask what the news is. Bruce explains, carefully. "Where the Joker shot you, it affected you to an extent where you'll never be able to walk again."

He unveils a wheelchair he had hidden underneath the table, and told me the good news. "The Good News being that you can be here when you're needed and investigate on information in the room I made for you. That way, we can get things done faster."

I'm both relieved and then infuriated. Relieved I can help for a bigger cause, infuriated that I can never be Batgirl ever again. No brace or technology will help me now. I close my eyes and shake my head in disagreement, tears streaming down my eyes. Bruce holds my hand and tells me. "You'll get through this."

I open my eyes and scream at him. "I WON'T!"

I keep shaking my head and I shout again. "You don't know what he did to me. You don't know what I could've done to stop him."

Bruce finishes. "I know."

I look at him, half caring and half confused. "What'd you mean?"

"Because he's what I could've been if I had the chance."

I take time to think about it, and he may be right. Haven't seen him to be wrong yet, though. "The Joker is more than just a man, he's a madman hellbent on chaos. When I saw my parents killed before my eyes, I had thought it was the end of the world. That I had nowhere and no one to call my Family."

He lets go of my hand, finishing. "But your father came along and gave me his coat for me to wear. In that moment, the tears had slowed, but they didn't stop. We didn't speak much after I told him what happened, and we didn't need to. When you encounter a loss like that, there's nothing to say. The only words that mattered the most was how your father gave me warmth in a cold world."

His face turns dark, but compassionate. "If it weren't for your father, I'd have become someone like the Joker. Slowly losing my mind, with no way to cure the pain. Never knowing what it meant to be loved. And develop a hatred against the world."

I keep looking at him, perplexed. Listening intently. I ask a question. "How'd you deal with it?"

"I went away from the world to find out how. I could counter crime where it struck. For seven years, I searched and I trained to be the man I am today."

Seven years? I reply to Bruce. "I'm so sorry."

Even if with this said, there'll still be the matter of me never walking again. But I try and imagine what his childhood must've been like after his parents died. How school was. College. Everything. He could've easily lost his humanity, but he didn't. I try and get in the wheelchair and Bruce helps me in. When I get in, I feel it's more comfortable than anticipated. I slide the wheels and I move around. I head to the room Bruce made for me with the computers and I begin to feel a little better. I did say that, before Batgirl, I wanted to be a detective. I enjoyed being Batgirl more than I'm enjoying this. I look away from the computers and start crying again. I ignore Bruce and I slide out of the room. Alfred comes down the elevator to the Batcave when I need him most. Alfred pauses in the elevator at me being in a wheelchair, and he walks closer to me, asking what happened. I

explained what happened and Alfred tells me. "You shouldn't blame yourself."

"Of course I can. It was my fault I met him in the Alley in the first place! And it was my fault I made myself an enemy."

Tears of pain come falling down as I keep speaking. "Do you know what I want to do? I want to walk again, I want to go outside and be a hero again. Why is this happening to me?"

I frown, looking at the ground and the tears are meaningless now. Being replaced by anger. "Because this never would've happened if you couldn't be capable enough to handle it."

I look up at him, not knowing what to say. Instead, I question him. "What?"

Alfred tips my head up with his other hand, adjusted under my chin. "You're strong, you're smart, and you don't need legs to prove that."

I reply back wearily. "I wasn't trying to prove anything."

"And you don't need to. Here, you're part of a bigger plan than you know. Here, you can be Batman's assistant. You gather the Intel, Batman uses it to his advantage. Don't forget that the strongest people stand stronger when they realize how powerful they are, even if they can't use their legs."

My anger seems to fade a little as Alfred reminds me. "Never Forget."

Alfred sheds a tear, and I wipe it away. I do feel stronger now. I hug Alfred from where I sit and thank him. I turn around and thank Bruce for everything. For being a great mentor. He doesn't say you're welcome, and I admire that. He doesn't just want to say it, but neither does want to accept he's right about something. Tomorrow night, I'd be in the Cave in my room with the computers. The Oracle Room, which is what I call it. Batman contacts me via ear comm and asks me to look up information on a criminal for a crime scene. I type in the criminal's name and tell him everything that comes up. And to my surprise, and to my amazement, he thanks me. I say you're welcome, and he goes to investigate. First night on the new job and Batman says thanks. To me. I look back at how I started out. With a cloth Batsuit for fandom and from being inspired, to the Armored Kevlar, to the Thermal Batsuit, to a wheelchair.

I have to admit, I never saw this coming. And now I'm making great use of it. Right now is all I want. And I think to myself, Dick would be proud. My mother would be proud. My Detective Father would be proud. If it weren't for last night, I wouldn't be here right now. And I wouldn't be thinking that this whole thing was a good idea. I would've been thinking of how to get revenge on the Joker. Speaking of which, since the Joker was still there when the cops and the ambulance, Batman had to have put him in Arkham. He came back to his senses minutes after being knocked out since my dad couldn't make it longer. He pointed a gun to Joker's head until the authorities arrived. He participated. And for someone like him, that's not a good thing for someone who never participated. I ask Batman. "Did you put the Joker in Arkham Asylum?"

"No."

"Where?"

"Beneath the Batcave."

I smile at how he knew the Asylum would've never worked. Now he'll wrack his mind trying to break out of here. I feel safer. Then I ask Batman something. "What about his weapons?"

"Confiscated and out of reach."

I giggle a little, replying to Batman. "Thanks, Batman."

He doesn't say it back again. And it doesn't bother me like it used to. Not having him say thank you or you're welcome or not hearing him say what needed to be said. But now, it doesn't bother me. I look back on all my struggles I've had to endure through, either on my own with someone else. I begin laughing to myself at how it's made me the woman I am today. Right now, I'm stronger than ever before. Right now, I'm still standing.