9:46 PM

I rolled it over and over in brain for about a week. The fear that I felt wasn't the same type of fear that I suspected someone felt when they encountered a ghost. I say that because I tended to follow the reality TV programs that documented supernatural encounters. And, based on the descriptions those people gave of how they felt in the moment, it didn't quite measure up to what I had felt. Or, at least that's what I hypothesized. In any case, I couldn't put words to the feeling. The feeling just was. But then it hit me…

I was curled up on my loveseat after work with a blanket and pint of ice cream watching a serial of shark attack documentaries. The victims described a sudden calm with an overwhelming feeling of uneasiness just before—boom—out of nowhere half their legs were gone. Honestly, though, it wasn't the attacks that captured my attention, it was the near-attacks.

Several victims noted the same feeling of calm and uneasiness when suddenly the huge shape of a killer materialized right next to them. Perhaps it circled them, bumped them, or just swam past without alarm. Whatever the case, most of the victims described a sudden loss of bowel control. I could relate.

About halfway through the serial—and my ice cream—I had the epiphany: Batman and Robin weren't at all like the lumbering, supernatural horrors depicted in horror movies and novels. Batman and Robin were sharks—stealthy, hungry, and efficient—and Gotham was their black ocean expanse.

The experts on the serial claimed that if you saw a shark approach while you were swimming, the shark had already seen you, measured you, and decided that you weren't worth its time. If it had meant to attack you, you would have never seen it coming. By the time you realized the shark was there, it would have already been too late. By the time I had realized that Batman was there, it was already too late. He was hiding in the shadows watching me climb the stairs and enter the room. Then he blocked the doorway so that I couldn't leave. But he didn't attack me because he already measured me and deemed me non-threatening. In a way that was relieving; in a way, that was extremely insulting.

Batman having the drop on me, however, wasn't enough. Like all efficient predators, he had a backup plan. For sharks, the attack came from the murky depths and then they disappeared back into the murkiness again to stage another attack. For Batman, he sought to pinch me between him and his partner. If I had become unexpectedly aware of Batman's presence, Robin, who was apparently watching me too, would sneak in and take me out from behind.

Batman and Robin weren't just two lunatics running around the city in costumes assaulting people, they were professionals—predators that plotted their attacks deliberately and with lethal precision. And, they used fear to impair their prey's ability to fight back.

It was brilliant and terrifying.

All I could do is smile with amazement as I shoveled another spoonful of divine coldness into my mouth. Honestly, the smile was that of relief...that I had managed to survive a shark attack. I could have just as easily been lying in that heap of bleeding perverts. But I wasn't.

As if I wasn't fascinated with Batman and Robin before, I was even more so now. What motivated them? Where did they operate from? How did they plan their attacks? Where did they get their information? The list of questions went on.

CLANG!

I jumped. My ice cream splattered on the coffee table when I dropped my spoon. Something had banged into my sliding glass door. I lived on the eleventh floor! What the hell could it have been?

I walked over to the door and pulled the curtain aside and looked onto the balcony. All I saw was an ocean of city lights. My hand found the lock and handle, gave it a tug, and the door opened—albeit, with a fight; I needed to have my dad come clean the guide rails. Brisk, autumn air rushed in and I immediately wrapped my arms across my chest.

I stepped onto the balcony, searched for the light switch, and cursed when the light didn't come on. Ugh, one more thing I had to do around the house. I approached the railing, glanced around, and looked over the side.

Nothing. Just frigid Gotham-ness.

Perhaps a bird was texting and flying—hit and run.

Back to my sharks and ice cream.

I turned around and tip-toed across the cold concrete back to the door and pushed my way through curtains as I hauled the door shut. I turned and there was a black figure standing on the far side of the room. Before my eyes could focus, the lights went out.

My heart tried to leap out of my throat. I shrieked. Loudly. If this weren't Gotham, my neighbors would have called the police.

"You know you should be more careful, this city's full of prowlers."

"Jee-zuz Christ!" The TV provided just enough light to differentiate Robin from the rest of the darkness. Panting wildly, I pressed my hands to my chest trying to keep my heart in its place. Then, in spite of the darkness, the cold made me feel suddenly exposed so I crisscrossed my arms across my chest again. "And creepy vigilantes, apparently," I panted.

"Apparently," he replied with a radiant smile and a human voice.

"What do you want?"

"Where's your mask? I was really hoping for a little roleplaying action before we got down to business," he said casually leaning against a wall. "You know—'Knock knock. Who is it? The Batman.' Brown chicken brown cow." The last part came out musically.

"What're you talking about?"

"Oh, we're gonna play hard to get? Okay. You wait here and I'll go pull it out of its hiding place in the back of your underwear drawer."

"What? No! What—what do you want?"

"To chat," he said matter-of-factly.

"About what?"

"Don't rush me; I don't have anywhere to be."

I let out a sigh of resignation. "How do you know where I live?"

"A little birdie told me."

"Cute, Robin."

"Thanks, Babs."

"Babs?"

"Yeah—it has a better ring than Batgirl but I can call you that if you'd prefer."

There was silence between us.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" His question didn't sound sincere.

"Well, breaking-and-entering is against the law."

His finger shot up. "One: I didn't break anything." A second finger followed. "Two: You opened the door."

I looked back at the sliding door. How did he…? "Stop it," I said unconvinced. "I opened the sliding door. I live on the eleventh floor. How did you get in here?"

He waved a dismissing hand—er, gauntlet. "Never ask a magician how he does his tricks."

"This is awkward in the worse way."

"That's a matter of perspective."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. We looked at each other some more. There was tension…but I couldn't quite say that it was the uncomfortable kind.

"Okay—can I offer you something to drink…or something...since I guess I'm having unexpected guests?"

"Nah…I'll get drive-thru when I leave."

"So is this a social call…Robin?"

"Unfortunately, no. But we can exchange numbers before I leave that way we can explore the social call option later. In the meantime, me and the big guy have a business proposition for you."

"The big guy?"

"You know the one I'm talking about. Big. Dark. Brooding." He put a finger up to either side of his head. "Pointy ears. The big guy?" Then his hands disappeared into his silhouette again.

"Right." My lips puckered with suspicion. "A business proposition? I don't understand. What sort of business would a couple of outlaw vigilantes want with me?"

"For starters, your résumé's quite impressive between your academic credentials and your time in the Marine Corps. Then we take into consideration that you managed to sniff-out that trafficking ring. Your plan and execution of the break-up were rudimentary but commendable—nothing that can't be honed. We'd say that you have exactly what we're looking for, minus your fashion-sense of course."

"My fashion-sense?"

"C'mon, you didn't exactly get that mask and outfit from Gianni Versace. But, that's not why I'm here. I'm here, like I said, because you may have exactly what we're looking for."

Like my lips, my voice became suspicious, too. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Look, Babs, Gotham's in a bad way. The Rule of Law doesn't exist here. The streets are a hard-place and the corrupt are the rocks; everyone else is stuck between the two. There are good people in this cesspool that are suffering the horror of living in a city that's less like a functioning community and more like a functioning warzone. Surely, you see that. If we all just leave it up to someone else to solve, no one ever will. The proposition Batman and I have for you is a dangerous one—an extremely dangerous one—but we believe that you have what it takes."

"So what is this proposition, Robin?"

"A partnership. That is, if you're down."

"I mean—are you looking for a contact inside the GCPD?"

"No. We have plenty of contacts inside the GCPD."

I pouted my lips. "Then I don't understand what it is that you want."

"Are you ready to take the fight to the streets? Are ready to stand-up for the good people in Gotham? To punish the wicked?"

"Are you serious?" I asked through an uncomfortable, dubious laugh.

He didn't say anything. He just stared into me with his piercing green eyes.

"I—I don't know what to say?"

"Say that you're ready to use Batgirl to set things right—to settle the score."

"Wow. I…uh…I suppose I don't have time to think this over, huh?"

"What's there to think over?" Robin asked smoothly. "The way I see it is: You either want to do the right thing or not all."

"Yeah, but you're talking about vigilantism. I'm a cop."

"You," he started, pointing his finger at me, "became a vigilante the night you decided to kick that door in and go after the man who attacked your friend—yeah, we know about that. Call me the guy who calls things when he sees them. I'm not trying to bash the police as an institution but have they shown up on your friend's doorstep? Have they even so much as written a report?"

I just shook my head remembering that Brittney had only started sleeping in her own apartment again three days ago.

"So what's it gonna be, Babs?"

"I—uh—yes."

"Super," he said melodiously as he rose to his full height and pushed across the living room towards me and the balcony, his cape sweeping the floor behind him. "Well, I don't mean to be rude but I really must get going. There's a lot of evil-doers to crush tonight. We'll be in touch."

"Wait. So that's it?"

"Yup."

I was incredulous. "What do I do now?"

"Pretend this conversation never happened."

"Are you serious? What just happened to being ready?"

"Babs, we should do dinner. I know an amazing place uptown. But you'll need a black dress and heels. No Bat mask."

"Are you hitting on me now?"

"I have a thing for redheads with glasses."

I rolled my eyes and threw a hand in the air. "I can't believe this."

"While your enthusiasm is appreciated, patience is a virtue," he responded playfully. "I'll see myself out."

"The door is that way."

"Right. 'Cause I'm gonna walk out the front door in armor and a cape. That would kinda ruin the whole urban legend thing, don't you think? I'll use the balcony."

"What do you mean you'll use the balcony? And, you haven't answered my other question."

"Yes I did," he said grasping the railing with both hands. "I said pretend this conversation never happened."

"Don't patronize me, Robin."

"I would never patronize a Gotham City Police Officer." Then Robin, with the gracefulness of an Olympic gymnast, heaved himself off the floor and into a handstand on the balcony railing.

I nearly had another bowel movement. "Omigod, what're you doing?" That was twice in a week.

"Trying to impress you. Is it working?"

My eyes flicked from his upside-down armored body, his camouflaged face, and his cape and hair whipping in the wind below him. "None of this makes any sense." And it didn't. I was genuinely distraught. One minute he was sneaking into my apartment to recruit me, the next minute he was being evasive and suicidal.

"The first lesson of being a bat is patience. This whole thing doesn't happen all at once ya know. We'll contact you. By the way, no more freelancing and gun-toting or the deal's off."

"What deal? When are you going to contact me?"

"Me. You. Black dress. Heels. Put your hair up, too."

"Ugh."

"You're kinda cute when you're frustrated." His smile was Cheshire and I think he knew it.

Then his gloves squeaked against the metal as he rocked his legs away from the building and out into the cityscape.

I yelped as gravity grabbed him by the ankles and yanked him clear of the balcony. I ran to the edge and watched him tumble into the darkness. Suddenly, bat wings opened on his back and he glided off into the city.

I'd swear that he was laughing.