“I swear, this city’s getting worse every day.” A tall man laughed at his own comment as he sat on the stairway of the Gotham Public Library, loading nine millimeter shells into a gun clip. “One of these days I’m gonna head for Metropolis, or Leesburg. Anywhere but this sewer.”

“Kenny, you’re such a pessimist.” Another man sat next to him, leaning against one of the decorative gargoyles near the staircase. “This city’s not getting any worse. It’s you, Kenny…you just notice more of it lately.”

“Yeah, Max?” Kenny snapped the clip into his gun, pointing it at Max while turning it sideways. “Dead men can’t be optimistic.”

“Knock it off, Kenny!” Max pushed the barrel of the gun away from him, and gave Kenny a shove. “You do that again, and Jack’s gonna hear about it.”

Kenny smiled and snickered to himself. “Jack’s an old man…and he spends too much time running from the law to care…What’s so funny, Max?”

Max looked up at Kenny, suddenly pausing in the middle of loading shells into his shotgun. “I wasn’t laughing.”

“Well then who–” Kenny suddenly turned pale as he turned slowly toward the doors of the library. There, standing in front of him, was a man with a white painted face, wearing a purple suit. “What in hell–”

“Tell me…Ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?” The figure stepped out of the dark doorway – and as he passed into the faint light from the street, Max and Kenny had no doubt as to his identity – The Joker.

“Wh-what?” Kenny began to move away slowly, as he raised his gun toward The Joker – but he couldn’t aim, as his hand began shaking. The more he tried to tell himself not to be frightened, the more his hand shook.

“Kenny, Kenny, Kenny. Tch, tch.” Joker calmly walked over to Kenny and smiled as he looked down at him. He shook his head mockingly. “And you call yourself a criminal. Pitiful.”

Kenny’s mouth fell open as Joker aimed his gun, point blank, at Kenny’s forehead. Kenny closed his eyes, expecting to feel the bullet tearing through his skull. He began to pray for a quick, painless death – that the bullet would put his lights out instantly, and he would feel nothing.

“New shoes. Don’t want to get blood on ’em.” Joker suddenly put his gun away, and walked past Kenny and a frozen Max, and saluted the two of them. “See you ’round.”

Max and Kenny didn’t move a single muscle as they watched Joker calmly walk down the street, whistling. They were both afraid that somehow, even if they would breathe wrong, they could cause the Joker to change his mind, turn around, and murder them.

Kenny let out a deep breath as soon as The Joker was safely out of sight. “My God, Max–”

As Max stood up slowly, Kenny could see that his pants were literally soaked through. He was shaking violently, and his teeth were chattering out of shock. Max dropped his gun to the ground and shook his head slowly as tears began forming in his eyes. “I’m…I’m out, Kenny. You’re on your own. I’m going home to my wife…while I still can.”

Kenny watched Max walk down the dimly lit street, headed for his home. He envied Max, a little, for having somewhere to go, for having a wife that loved him. As much as he thought of Max as a coward for bailing out he couldn’t help but think…Max was right.

Commissioner Gordon watched from his seat on the hood of his car as around a half dozen agents from the Immigration and Naturalization service swarmed around the port of Gotham among a dozen paramedics, treating refugees who were just escorted out of a large ship’s cargo hold.

From his best estimate, they spent a week or more inside that hold, with no food, water, or plumbing. The smell that came from the place…the looks on those people’s faces…they were things that would haunt him for a long time.

He placed his head in his hands and sighed. “Jim, get a hold of yourself. You’ve seen worse. You work in Gotham City, after all.”

As he raised his head back up, he realized that his hands were shaking. Yes, he had seen worse – mutilated dead bodies lying in the street, murdered children. But somehow, this was much more personal. He saw their eyes, pleading to him for help. It made him feel…angry.

“Jim!”

Commissioner Gordon turned as one of his detectives approached. “What is it, Renee? Did you find out who this boat is registered to?”

Renee sighed. “Well…It took a bit of searching, Jim. It’s real owner was hidden by several corporation names.”

Gordon stood up and faced Renee. He had a bad feeling all of a sudden. “Who is it?”

She took a deep breath before speaking. “Oswald Cobblepot.”

“The restaurant owner?”

Renee nodded in response.

Gordon looked over at the paramedics treating some more weak, malnourished refugees. He knew, though they didn’t, that their trip was wasted. The INS would send them back home, where they could be tricked yet again by someone else into cramming into a boat headed for the U.S. “All right…pick him up.”

Renee nodded again, this time more sadly, as she turned toward her car. She knew as well as Gordon that nothing she did could help these people. All she could do was clean up after a disaster that had already happened.

“Oh, and Renee?”

“Yes?” She stopped and turned to face Gordon again.

“Thanks for coming out here.”

Gordon watched as Renee smiled at him, and then turned toward her car. He thought about coming along – but the way he felt, he was afraid he might do something to the restaurant owner that he would regret.

“You don’t understand.” Oswald Cobblepot was the picture of a rich businessman in his dark suit, as he sat at one of his own restaurant tables. “It is my ship…but I only rented it to someone.”

“Give me a name.” Renee stood a short distance in front of him – well aware that he was almost always armed. Her courage came from the fact that two uniformed officers were with her. “Or you’re going to jail.”

Oswald shrugged, as he began tapping a glass on the table with his fountain pen. “Sorry, officer. I can’t divulge my customers, it would be bad for business.”

“It’s detective.” Renee stepped a little closer, encouraged a bit by Oswald’s apparent nervousness – the tapping pen was her first clue. “And if you don’t tell me, it’s gonna be worse for your business.”

“Renee, is it?” Oswald began twirling the pen between his fingers. “You’re kind of cute. It’s a shame I can’t take you with me.”

“With you…?” Renee looked behind her at the officers, to make sure they were still there. “What are you talking about? And how did you know my name?”

“So many questions…so little time.” Oswald suddenly dropped the fountain pen to the floor, which suddenly exploded into a huge, thick cloud.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Renee tried to reach for him quickly – but found he was no longer in the chair. She couldn’t see where he went with the thick smoke in the room. But that didn’t stop her from trying. “Spread out! We’re taking him in.”

Oswald laughed to himself quietly as he slipped into a door just to the right of the entrance to the kitchen, and quickly locked it. “They’ll never even look for me here.”

He reached over to turn on the light in the small room – only to realize that the switch did nothing. He took a match out of his pocket and lit it quickly, intent on giving himself just enough light to find the exit to the outside. Someone blew out the match as he held it.

“Who’s there?” Oswald began walking around the room slowly, trying to feel his way around in the near total darkness. “Is that you, Renee?”

Oswald suddenly felt a leather-covered fist punch him in the face, hard – enough to knock him off of his feet, and land him on a pile of boxes full of flower. Fear began to fill his mind – it had to be Batman.

He heard metallic squeaking come from above him, and a second later the room suddenly became bathed in light. It was no Batman which stood above him – it was Batgirl. She was putting the light bulb back in the socket in the ceiling. The light didn’t work earlier because she removed the bulb.

Oswald smiled at Batgirl, hoping to disarm her a little. The female super-hero types in Gotham had always been more gentle with him then Batman, who regularly abused him physically. He figured he would have no trouble charming her, and eventually getting away – even if he had to kill her first.

“Hello, th–”

Before he could finish his sentence, Batgirl’s boot sent blood from his mouth and a chunk of one of his teeth to splatter on the wall behind him. She then grabbed him by his suit jacket, pulling it tightly around his neck, and started lifting him slowly.

As his shirt slowly tightened around his neck, he looked into Batgirl’s eyes – and saw nothing but intense hate and anger. He’d looked into Batman’s cold eyes before, but he’d never seen more then an icy, emotionless stare. At that moment, he began to fear…Batgirl would kill him!

“Help! Help me!” Oswald began to try and squirm away from Batgirl, but her grip on his shirt proved too difficult for him to break. He could see her smiling as he struggled – she was enjoying watching him suffer.

The door to the room crashed open as Renee and the two officers entered the room quickly. Renee stopped as she watched the spectacle – Oswald Cobblepot being choked by a five foot four woman in a costume resembling Batman’s, one of his deadly umbrellas lying just out of his reach.

“Looks like you picked the wrong woman to mess with, Oswald…twice.” Renee stepped toward him as she removed handcuffs from the back of her belt. Her hands shook a little out of nervousness as she watched Batgirl dropped Oswald to the floor and stepped out of the way.

As the two uniformed officers pulled Oswald out of the room, Renee stood between Batgirl and the door – they both knew that the door to the room was the only way out. “Trespassing, assault. Taking the law into our own hands, are we?”

She suddenly looked down as she watched Batgirl slowly extend her hand – and she was smiling. Renee sighed out of relief as she shook Batgirl’s hand quickly. “I’m pleased to meet you, too. Look, whoever you are – I’m supposed to arrest you. It’s my job, even though you did help me out.”

Batgirl gave her a ‘thumbs up’ sign, and then pointed up at the light bulb in the ceiling.

Renee looked where Batgirl pointed. “The light? What about–”

Before she finished her sentence, she watched the bulb suddenly shatter, and felt a breeze move past her, accompanied by a slight sound of rustling fabric. She thought about asking one of the officers for a flashlight – but she knew very well that it would be futile – Batgirl was gone.

“Record.”

Bruce sat down slowly in his desk chair. He’d been keeping a close eye on Batgirl lately – even though he had reduced his own activity to heal after the ordeal with Lex Luthor, she seemed more driven, and was more active then ever.

“Cassandra is becoming increasingly reckless in her actions. A police report specifically mentioned Batgirl, though no charges were filed…luckily.”

He paused to read the report again, just to make sure there were no charges. The last thing she would need at this delicate point was every cop in the city to be looking for her.

“She’s becoming more bold…and I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. Especially since…he…has been sighted around town lately.”

Bruce took a deep breath to steady himself before he continued. Even the mention of Joker’s name in the same sentence with Cassandra’s made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Ever since he shot Barbara, paralyzing her for life, Bruce knew that Joker meant to make his life miserable, in literally any way possible.

“I worry that she may get herself killed on her next encounter with The Joker…and I also worry as well that she may kill him–”

He suddenly stopped as he watched the curtains in the room, lit only by his computer screen, shift slightly. He knew what that meant – but he decided to finish his recording anyhow.

“It’s almost as if she’s…trying to make up for her past somehow.”

Bruce put down his microphone quickly as his desk lamp lit up, seemingly by itself – only once it was on, he could see Cassandra standing on the opposite side of the desk.

She smiled shyly and kneeled down, so only her head and neck were visible behind the tall desk. “You worry too much.”

Bruce shook his head. “Must you practice your stealth skills in my office?”

Cassandra nodded and smiled again.

“Alfred sent you, didn’t he?” Bruce sighed. “I guess that means dinner is served.”

As soon as Bruce stood up, Cassandra left the room quickly and headed toward the kitchen. Bruce sighed as he watched her silently slip out of the room, her soft sneakers not making a sound on the carpeted floor. He wished he could move as quickly or silently. With age came experience – but sometimes experience can’t make up for simple agility or strength.

He paused in the hallway for a moment to ponder his last thought. Cassandra’s lack of experience was balanced by her agility and strength. He only hoped that it would save her when the time came.

Batman and Batgirl looked at each other in surprise as they stood at the top of a twelve floor, broken down apartment building in one of the seediest parts of Gotham City. They thought they had chased two men they caught robbing a nearby check cashing store to the roof – but they were gone.

“It’s a trap.” Batman quickly removed a cable launcher and aimed it across the street, just as the door to the stairway flew open. A dark form stood in the doorway.

Batgirl squinted and took a step toward the dark form just before Batman grabbed her arm tightly. She realized that he did so because he could see that the man was drawing a large pistol from under his jacket. She also noticed at least a dozen heavily-armed shadows stepping through the door around the dark form.

“No.”

Batgirl turned her head to face Batman as she heard that single word come from his mouth – but she didn’t get the chance to look at him. She could feel her arm being pulled by Batman’s hand, his grip tightened, until her feet were no longer touching the roof. She was falling.

She instinctively spread out her cape, using it as a parachute – enough to save her life, but not enough to prevent a painful landing in a construction area below. She braced herself for the impact – but was surprised when, instead, the wooden structure protecting the construction area collapsed, sending her a full story below the street level.

Batgirl stood up quickly, removing a cable launcher from her belt, and aiming it across her arm as an archer would, to get a more sure hit at the top of the building. But then she froze – she could hear distant automatic weapons fire. She began to shiver a little bit at the thought that…that Bruce might very well be dead.

As soon as she spotted one of the heavily armed men leaning over the edge of the building to look for her, she ducked out of view quickly, crouching among the wreckage of the smashed wooden structure. She hoped he didn’t see her – she didn’t want him to come down there and complete the job.

“Would you like some help, Miss?”

Batgirl turned suddenly to see a filthy old man in rags standing next to her, offering her a hand. She wasn’t sure exactly how he managed to sneak up on her – unless he was already there when she landed. But she did understand, at least, that the smell he carried was definitely masked by the general sewer smell coming from underneath the city. She stood up quickly and pointed up at the armed man standing on top of the building, still looking for her.

The filthy man waved a finger at her, indicating that she should follow. She walked behind him, through a hole in the wall. Within seconds, she found herself in a large, well-lighted, concrete walled room filled with two dozen other filthy people. From old subway maps she’d seen on Bruce’s computer, she figured out that these people were hiding out in a old sealed subway station which was no longer used – the painted boards blocking where the stairway used to be, and where she should be able to see the tracks confirmed her suspicions.

“Pardon our appearance, Miss.” The old man looked over at a shivering young man who was trying desperately to light a fire in the cold room. “But this aint exactly the Palace Hotel.”

Batgirl walked over to the young man who was trying to light the fire, and removed a small two-inch flare from her belt. She hit the ignitor against her palm, and dropped it into the pile of wood he had collected on the floor. As the wood began to quickly catch fire, she removed two more flares and pressed them into the young man’s palm.

“We’re all homeless, Batgirl”, the old man continued as the younger man smiled at Batgirl and began warming his hands over the now raging fire, “We’re each in here because we can no longer walk the streets in safety. We’re either beaten by the criminals for simply existing, or harassed by the cops as if we were the criminals.”

The old man pointed at a woman curled up in the corner of the room, next to one of the concrete columns. “She was beaten and nearly raped last night when she ventured outside of here to find some food. She would probably be dead if she hadn’t jumped into the sewer to escape. It was someone from Napier’s gang. They’re all insane, I tell you.”

He turned to look at Batgirl, who was now frowning and holding her fists tightly clenched. “Oh no…You’re not thinking of taking on Napier’s gang, are you? You’d need a small army–”

Batgirl shook her head and pointed at the ceiling quickly. She wanted to get back outside, to search for Batman. She hoped he was okay. Her thoughts interrupted as she heard one of the wood planks at the subway entrance being moved. A bloodied, beaten young man stepped through the opening, careful to replace the plank behind him.

“Oh my God.” The old man raced over to him quickly as he collapsed to the concrete floor. “Steven…are you all right?”

“I’ll survive…dad.” Steven spit up a little blood as he spoke. “It’s Napier’s guys. They…destroyed the soup kitchen…The shelter. I just wanted to…bring back some food.”

The old man barely had time to turn around before he noticed Batgirl moving the same wood plank and slipping through, closing it behind her.

“Batgirl, wait! We…need you–”

“Alfred…Cassandra check in yet?” Batman sped along in the Batmobile, driving with one hand as he kept another pressed against his opposite arm.

“No, Master Bruce. I haven’t heard from her since the two of you left.”

Batman cursed to himself and shook his head. “I hope she’s okay.”

“She’s a survivor, Master Bruce. Much like yourself.”

“I hope so, Alfred.” Batman smiled, almost forgetting about his injured arm until a shot of pain caused him to wince.

“Are you injured, Master Bruce?”

“Not badly.” Batman started driving a little faster, as he began to realize that blood was pooling inside his costume. “I’ve taken one bullet, and my arm is dislocated. I’ll be better in a couple of days.”

Alfred smiled in return. “I don’t doubt it, Master Bruce.”

As Batman turned off the viewscreen in his car, he began to worry about Cassandra. She’d been out on her own before, but this time it was different – someone was out to kill her, and Batman.

“Alfred’s never wrong. Please, God…don’t let him be wrong this time.”

Batgirl regretted leaving that subway – a decision she made in a moment of anger. Those people in the subway having to endure pain and misery, as if they lived in a war zone, was just too much for her to take. She finally decided she had to do something when she watched Steven, a man about her age, beaten into near unconsciousness simply while searching for food.

She regretted her decision now as she found herself surrounded by a dozen men and women, some carrying guns, some carrying bats or metal pipes, and some simply smacking their fists against their other palm. It was a little surreal – until now, she’d never seen a ‘classic’ gang scene like that anywhere except in the movies.

As one man behind her swung a metal pipe, she could feel the air movement ahead of it, and ducked just enough to avoid it. She reached up quickly, grabbing the pipe as it completed it’s swing, and took it from the man. All the man could do was stare in surprise as Batgirl jammed the end of the pipe into his chest so hard that everyone standing on the street could hear his ribs fracturing.

She then turned her attention quickly on the four men carrying guns – they were the biggest threat of the entire group. She punched one in the face while kicking the man next to him – they were nice enough to stand close together – and threw their pistols down into the subway’s staircase. She felt someone hit her in the back with a baseball bat, hard – but it didn’t hurt. She wheeled around, grabbing the one who hit her by the back of the neck, and twisted, hard. She smiled as she heard a satisfying ‘snap’, and felt his body drop lifeless from her arms.

That’s when she heard a loud ‘pop’ come from behind her, and almost immediately felt something tear through her left arm. It felt like someone had jammed a large metal object right through her arm – but as she glanced at it, she realized it was just a small hole with blood coming out of it. She knew then that she had been shot.

In a fit of rage over being shot, Batgirl leapt off of the ground, aiming at the man who shot her – hands first. She collided with him, knocking him to the ground, and she punched him hard enough to shatter one of the bones in his face. She felt several people hitting her with bats and metal pipes at once as she began slamming the man’s head against the street again and again until he stopped moving.

She stood up, dizzy, and looked down at her hands – they were covered in blood, mixed with some kind of pale grey colored specs. She turned around quickly, and swung her fist at a woman carrying a metal pipe – Batgirl missed, just as she felt another bullet pierce her left leg. This one hurt more then the one in her arm, and was different – it felt like the bullet went all the way through this time. It was enough to take her completely off balance – she fell to the ground, and watched the remaining gang members closing in on her.

It was time to escape.

Batgirl fired a cable launcher quickly at a building above, letting the tension pull her right off of the ground, and straight up. She knew she had to make it home – if she didn’t, Bruce would never forgive himself for leaving her behind.

“Bruce? Where’s Cassandra?”

Bruce sighed as Barbara Gordon rolled through the Batcave on his wheelchair. He wasn’t really in much of a mood to talk with her – he was sitting on a table while Alfred patched up the hole in his arm after removing a bullet. “I don’t know, Barbara. I hope she’s all right.”

“You left her out there?” Barbara rolled up to the table Bruce sat on quickly enough that she nearly collided with it, causing Bruce to wince in anticipation of the shot of pain that would come with the table shaking. “She’s not ready for that, Bruce! You said so yourself!”

“I was wrong.” Bruce slid off of the table as Alfred finished his work on a tightly wrapped bandage. “She is ready. She can handle herself.”

Bruce and Barbara both turned as the electronic lock on the exterior door ‘clicked’, indicating that someone had entered a correct code. The door opened, and Cassandra slipped in slowly, still wearing her costume except for the mask – and she was covered in blood.

“Oh my God–” Barbara wheeled across the room quickly, with Alfred and Bruce close behind.

Bruce grabbed Cassandra around the waist just before she lost her footing. He looked down to see that she had been shot in the leg and arm – and she seemed so weak, there was no telling what other damage had been done. That’s when he noticed that his grip on her was shifting – a few of her ribs had been broken as well. He decided instead to lay her down on the table.

“Barbara, I need your help.” Bruce walked around the table and looked down at Barbara’s wheelchair.

“The chair, right?”

Bruce nodded. “I need to borrow it, to get Cassandra into the house. Then I’ll come back and get you. We need to get her out of her costume…she needs to go to the hospital.”

“No–” Cassandra tried to sit up, but was met with pain that she didn’t seem to feel during the battle. Now that all of her adrenaline was gone, she was in a world of pain.

Bruce leaned over her as she sat up slowly. “Cassandra, you have internal injuries. There’s a bullet in your arm, and you’re bleeding. If you don’t go to the hospital–”

“No!” Cassandra reached into a drawer below the table for a pair of tweezers sealed inside a sterile pack, and tore open the pack.

“Cassandra, don’t!” Bruce reached for her, only to be stopped by Barbara’s hand.

Alfred and Bruce had to turn away as Cassandra gritted her teeth and jammed the sharp tip of the tweezers into the small hole in her arm. Blood began running out of the hole a little faster now as she used the tip of the tweezers to find the bullet, and yank it out quickly. She then snatched a small bandage and some tape and began struggling to open the tape roll.

“Here, Cassandra. Gimme that.” Barbara snatched the tape roll from her, and opened it quickly. She then snatched a bottle of disinfectant, and poured it liberally over the wound, ignoring Cassandra’s surprised, painful scream. “Don’t want you to get infection.”

After both Cassandra’s arm and leg wound were carefully bandaged and wrapped, Barbara looked at Alfred, who still had his back turned on the whole spectacle, and then to Bruce – who was staring wide-eyed, nervously rubbing his chin.

“Men can be such babies sometimes.” Barbara smiled at Cassandra and rolled out of the way to allow Cassandra to slide off of the table. “Now be careful. You still have a couple broken ribs that need to heal.”

Cassandra nodded, and left the room quickly, only to return a moment later in different blue jeans and a short-sleeve shirt. She headed toward the refrigerator to remove an ice pack and a bottle of water.

As Bruce watched Cassandra walk back toward him from the refrigerator, he turned to Barbara. “Do you think she’s upset with me?”

Barbara just smiled as she watched Cassandra walk past her to hug Bruce gently before sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his console. “I dunno, Bruce. What do you think?”

Bruce looked at Cassandra, and couldn’t help but smile as he watched her wrap the ice pack around her arm. “We both need a few days off, don’t we?”

Cassandra’s eyes looked toward Bruce as she returned a smile and took a sip of water from the bottle.

“Days off? Yeah, sure.” Barbara laughed and rolled toward the ramp that led toward the house. “It’s more likely I’ll get up and walk tomorrow morning.”

Cassandra couldn’t remember ever being in so much pain. As she woke up in her bed, it felt like the gang she fought the night before came back to beat her as she slept. She glanced over at the clock, wishing that she could get more sleep – but she knew she would be unable to in her condition. She sat up slowly, realizing that she also had a splitting headache as she headed toward the bathroom.

After she turned on her shower, she paused in front of her bathroom mirror and stared in horror. She’d never seen so many bruises. Some of them were frightening colors like deep purple and black, and were rather large. As soon as she stepped into the shower, she immediately felt like someone was trying to rip off her skin. The sensation of the water hitting her from the shower head felt like a million small drills trying to burrow through her skin. She turned down the temperature and gritted her teeth as she vowed to get out of there as soon as possible.

Several minutes later, Cassandra sat down at the breakfast table wearing black jeans, a black long sleeve buttonless cotton tee-shirt, and sunglasses. Her clothing choice was dictated by the fact that synthetic materials, buttons rubbing against her skin, and bright lights tended to make the pain from the bruises worse.

She was a little annoyed to notice that Bruce, who had been shot the day before, was cheery, and dressed in a business suit.

“Good morning, everyone!” Bruce felt a blueberry muffin bounce off of his forehead as soon as those words left his mouth. He knew Cassandra threw it, though Alfred was trying his best not to laugh. “Sunglasses, Cassandra?”

Even though her eyes were obscured, Cassandra could tell from Bruce’s change in expression that he knew she was staring at him. She was hardly ever a ‘morning person’ – and since she felt pain from every corner of her body, she was now less so. She glanced over at the window for a moment and then quickly turned away – the bright sunlight was painful.

She didn’t feel hungry, but she felt compelled somehow to sit and watch as Bruce and Alfred went through their morning breakfast ‘ritual’ – something she usually missed since she usually woke up about three hours later. The two seemed so close – they were family.

Cassandra knew Bruce’s history well – the fact that his parents were murdered, and he had been driven to take back the streets from rampant crime ever since. Maybe it was a little revenge that drove him too…not that it mattered since he was fighting on the side of the innocents of Gotham.

But as he sat at the table talking about his schedule and eating blueberry muffins with Alfred, he seemed so…normal. She knew deep down that this was the true face of Bruce Wayne – a lost child who had never grown up.

She felt a little sad as she watched the scene before her – she couldn’t help but feel left out. She had no family other then Bruce and Alfred, and yet she still didn’t really feel like she…belonged there.

“If you’re not busy today, Cassandra, how would you like a tour of my office?” Bruce smiled at her as he spoke. It made her feel like an important part of the conversation.

She nodded and raced back to her room to grab her jacket.

“Showing her the ropes today, Master Bruce?” Alfred chuckled a little as he started clearing the table.

“Alfred, I think I know who took a shot at me last night.” Bruce leaned on the kitchen table, watching Alfred move the plates and glasses to the sink. “I heard his voice yelling after me as I was making my escape. It was the Joker.”

Alfred paused and raised an eyebrow. “Is he back in town again?”

Bruce nodded. “That’s not what bothers me. Hell, even his taking a shot at Batman is normal. What bothers me is what I heard him say.”

“Which is?”

Bruce took a deep breath and stared at Alfred for what seemed like an eternity. “I think he said…’Tell Bruce Wayne I’m looking for him’.”

“What do you suppose that means, Master Bruce?” Alfred’s hands began shaking a little bit as he began washing one of the glasses in the sink. He already knew the answer.

“I can never be sure where Joker is concerned.” Bruce pointed at the doorway as he continued. “I have to admit, one of my reasons for bringing Cassandra along is a little selfish.”

Alfred turned off the water and stared at Bruce, frowning. “You believe her identity is expendable compared to yours?”

“Not at all, Alfred.” Bruce sighed. “It’s…complicated. I believe that if her identity were exposed, people would…accept it easier. People seem to like her. They just…fear Batman.”

“I see your point, Master Bruce. I just hope she does as well.”

As she heard Bruce’s footsteps, Cassandra raced from a spot around the corner from the kitchen, headed back toward her room. As soon as she was inside her room, the door safely closed, she leaned against the foot of the bed and slid to the floor.

“Cassandra? Are you ready?”

Cassandra just froze for a moment, pondering whether she wanted to go. She didn’t want to disappoint Bruce – but she didn’t care for being used as his pawn, either. It wasn’t Bruce’s true motive that upset her – it was his lack of honesty, masquerading her little field trip as a ‘distraction’.

She jumped up and stormed to the door, yanking it open suddenly. As soon as she saw Bruce’s eyes, she gave him an angry look – which only vaguely masked the pain and betrayal she felt underneath.

Bruce looked down at Cassandra’s angry eyes and smiled weakly. “I wasn’t entirely…honest with you, Cassandra–”

“I know.” Cassandra flashed Bruce a mischievous smile as she grabbed her jacket and headed out of the front door ahead of him. She felt a little better now that Bruce at least attempted to tell the truth – though she still wondered if he actually trusted her.

She turned to face Bruce just before she entered the back door of the car, held open by Alfred. Bruce smiled at her in return – a polite smile, which hid what he felt more deeply…a fear of the unknown.

As she entered the car and heard the door slam behind her, she realized that Bruce had protected her long enough…now it was her time to return the favor.

 

Cassandra heard voices echoing down the hall as she sat on her bed reading a book. She tried to ignore the sounds, but she just couldn’t – and it was preventing her from concentrating.

She slid off of the bed and snuck over to the door silently in her socks to find out what was going on. She recognized Bruce’s voice – and heard her own name mentioned – but she couldn’t seem to make out much more then that besides the fact that she heard one man’s and one woman’s voice.

As soon as she reached the door, she could hear footsteps approaching. She raced back to the bed, deciding that she was going to pretend to be reading again. Only when she reached the bed, she discovered that she misplaced the book somehow – she couldn’t find it anywhere.

A loud knock at the door started her heart racing, as she wondered who the other two people she heard were – and why they were talking about her.

“Cassandra, open up…I have a couple of people here who need to talk to you.” It was Bruce. She wasn’t sure if she should trust the other two people with him, but she knew she could trust him.

She was suddenly aware of the sound of her jeans rubbing against the comforter as she slid off the edge of the bed. It seemed like an eternity had passed before she reached the door and opened it slowly.

“Cassandra, this is Commissioner Gordon, and Detective Renee Montoya.”

She approached the door slowly as she watched Renee’s hand move into the light – it was holding a pair of handcuffs.

Renee took a step toward her. “Cassandra…Don’t make this more difficult then it needs to be.”

“Noo!” As soon as Renee grabbed Cassandra’s arm, she started struggling – but she was quickly overwhelmed. She found herself face down on the floor, with her wrists cuffed together. She looked at Bruce sadly as Renee pulled her back to her feet.

“I’m sorry, Cassandra. It’s for your own good.”

Cassandra began crying softly as Renee loaded her into the police van. She trusted Bruce. But now she was…alone.

“Cassandra? Are you okay?”

As Cassandra opened her eyes to the darkness of her room, she could hear someone knocking softly on the door. She wiped away the tears from her eyes as she realized that what had happened to her was only a dream. She couldn’t quite place the voice she heard in her groggy state – but she imagined it had to be either Bruce or Alfred.

The door opened slowly, revealing not Bruce, or Alfred – but Tim Drake. Cassandra sat up and curled her legs under her chin as she stared at him.

“You were crying, Cassandra. What’s wrong?”

Cassandra just stared at Tim as he closed the door, pulled a chair from the corner and sat down.

“Come on, you can talk to me. What’s with the silent act, anyway? Why is it that you never say anything?”

Cassandra sniffed once and sighed. “No one listens.”

“I always listen. It’s my curse, Cass.”

Tim suddenly felt a pencil from Cassandra’s nightstand hit him on the side of the head.

“Ow!” He rubbed his head as he smiled at Cassandra. “Don’t like being called Cass, huh? How about Cissie? I know someone with that name–”

He ducked as the next pencil flew just over his head. “Okay, okay. Cassandra it is.”

Cassandra pointed at the door. “Out.”

Tim stood up and pushed the chair back to where he found it. “Fine, I’ll go Cassandra. Forgive me for trying to reach out to you. For some reason, I thought there was someone in there who just needed…a friend.”

As Tim turned to leave, Cassandra slid off of the bed quickly. She tapped his shoulder just as he was about to open the door. As he turned around, she hugged him tightly – catching him completely off-guard.

“Thank you, Tim.”

Tim quietly nodded and closed the door as he left the room. He was still in shock – he didn’t know what to say. Was Cassandra trying to reach out to him too? Was he right…did she really need a friend?

Just before he walked away from Cassandra’s door, he could hear more distant sniffling. He imagined that she was crying again, because she was lonely.

Tim shook his head slowly as he walked away. “I am too, Cassandra. I am too.”

 

Cassandra heard voices echoing down the hall as she sat on her bed reading a book. She tried to ignore the sounds, but she just couldn’t – and it was preventing her from concentrating.

She slid off of the bed and snuck over to the door silently in her socks to find out what was going on. She recognized Bruce’s voice – and heard her own name mentioned – but she couldn’t seem to make out much more then that besides the fact that she heard one man’s and one woman’s voice.

As soon as she reached the door, she could hear footsteps approaching. She raced back to the bed, deciding that she was going to pretend to be reading again. Only when she reached the bed, she discovered that she misplaced the book somehow – she couldn’t find it anywhere.

A loud knock at the door started her heart racing, as she wondered who the other two people she heard were – and why they were talking about her.

“Cassandra, open up…I have a couple of people here who need to talk to you.” It was Bruce. She wasn’t sure if she should trust the other two people with him, but she knew she could trust him.

She was suddenly aware of the sound of her jeans rubbing against the comforter as she slid off the edge of the bed. It seemed like an eternity had passed before she reached the door and opened it slowly.

“Cassandra, this is Commissioner Gordon, and Detective Renee Montoya.”

She approached the door slowly as she watched Renee’s hand move into the light – it was holding a pair of handcuffs.

Renee took a step toward her. “Cassandra…Don’t make this more difficult then it needs to be.”

“Noo!” As soon as Renee grabbed Cassandra’s arm, she started struggling – but she was quickly overwhelmed. She found herself face down on the floor, with her wrists cuffed together. She looked at Bruce sadly as Renee pulled her back to her feet.

“I’m sorry, Cassandra. It’s for your own good.”

Cassandra began crying softly as Renee loaded her into the police van. She trusted Bruce. But now she was…alone.

“Cassandra? Are you okay?”

As Cassandra opened her eyes to the darkness of her room, she could hear someone knocking softly on the door. She wiped away the tears from her eyes as she realized that what had happened to her was only a dream. She couldn’t quite place the voice she heard in her groggy state – but she imagined it had to be either Bruce or Alfred.

The door opened slowly, revealing not Bruce, or Alfred – but Tim Drake. Cassandra sat up and curled her legs under her chin as she stared at him.

“You were crying, Cassandra. What’s wrong?”

Cassandra just stared at Tim as he closed the door, pulled a chair from the corner and sat down.

“Come on, you can talk to me. What’s with the silent act, anyway? Why is it that you never say anything?”

Cassandra sniffed once and sighed. “No one listens.”

“I always listen. It’s my curse, Cass.”

Tim suddenly felt a pencil from Cassandra’s nightstand hit him on the side of the head.

“Ow!” He rubbed his head as he smiled at Cassandra. “Don’t like being called Cass, huh? How about Cissie? I know someone with that name–”

He ducked as the next pencil flew just over his head. “Okay, okay. Cassandra it is.”

Cassandra pointed at the door. “Out.”

Tim stood up and pushed the chair back to where he found it. “Fine, I’ll go Cassandra. Forgive me for trying to reach out to you. For some reason, I thought there was someone in there who just needed…a friend.”

As Tim turned to leave, Cassandra slid off of the bed quickly. She tapped his shoulder just as he was about to open the door. As he turned around, she hugged him tightly – catching him completely off-guard.

“Thank you, Tim.”

Tim quietly nodded and closed the door as he left the room. He was still in shock – he didn’t know what to say. Was Cassandra trying to reach out to him too? Was he right…did she really need a friend?

Just before he walked away from Cassandra’s door, he could hear more distant sniffling. He imagined that she was crying again, because she was lonely.

Tim shook his head slowly as he walked away. “I am too, Cassandra. I am too.”

Batgirl felt full of energy as she stood high atop the steeply sloped roof of the tall, gothic City Hall building. An icy rain pounded her, wind tearing from behind her, through her hair which came out from under the mask part of her costume. She thought about tying it up before she left the Batcave. Now she regretted not doing so as she brushed a few strands back behind her shoulders.

“You’re supposed to keep the hair inside your costume.”

She glanced up at Batman for a second, and just shrugged in response. Unlike Bruce, she liked a little variety. Bruce was obsessed with uniformity, even making sure the desk in his office was always exactly in the center of the room. She smiled to herself when she noticed that he had even stationed them exactly in the center of the roof’s edge.

After waking Cassandra up in the middle of the night and urging her to ‘dress up’ and head to the Batcave, Bruce explained that he had a tip – that someone was going to plant a bomb in City Hall. Cassandra worried a little bit about where he got these tips – for a crime fighter he seemed to have more connections then most criminals – but she figured that it was his specialty. After all, he did spend more money on fighting crime then most police departments.

So she waited. As the icy rain began soaking through her hair, her leather costume offering her little protection other then keeping the rest of her dry…she waited, with Batman standing over her. A lot of waiting was involved when on ‘night patrol’, it came with the territory. She learned that as long as Batman was willing to wait, there was something worth waiting for.

But in this case, she had a strange feeling that something was wrong, that even Batman was missing something. She knew that he checked to make sure that the tip was more then just a hoax. She believed it was true. But there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on…

Batgirl turned around suddenly to face Batman, her eyes wide with both fear and anticipation. She stared for a second as he met her emotion-filled gaze with nothing but a cold, calculated stare. For a moment, she understood why people were so frightened of meeting Batman. Just one look made her question whether he was indeed alive, whether he had a soul.

“Well?” Batman said just one word without breaking his stare. He knew she had something on her mind – he knew how to read body language well.

“It’s already here.” Batgirl’s voice was barely above a whisper, but her words were enough to send chills through both of them. The reason why they had been waiting so long was because the bomb had already been planted before they arrived.

Batman simply nodded, and turned to head down the steep slope of the roof, toward a window below, careful to hook a small cable device around a chimney first. Batgirl simply slid right past him down the slippery tile, and grabbed the stone gutter with her gloved hands just as she was about to fall off of the roof. She then swung and landed on one of the large stone windowsills.

By the time Batman reached the windowsill, Batgirl had already opened the window and was climbing inside. He hoped that she had checked for security systems before entering – but he had faith that she would have thought of it.

“We’ll start in the basement. And no more showing off.”

Batgirl smiled again and followed Batman as he headed toward the stairway through the dark hallways. She was amazed at how well her vision worked when there was so little light. Working at night, every night, was giving her an edge – she could see everything in that hallway, even though it was illuminated only by stray light from street lamps outside. She could even read the notes pinned to a cork billboard on one wall.

She suddenly paused and began staring at the billboard. Something she saw out of the corner of her eye seemed out of place. It was an ad for a water cooler company – very strange, since she could see a water cooler sitting only a few feet from her…and the big plastic bottle on top was full!

Batman stopped walking as soon as he noticed that Batgirl had paused to read the billboard. He followed her gaze over to the water cooler, noticing about the same time she did that it wasn’t plugged in.

Batgirl walked over to the water cooler slowly, and began examining it to see if there was a way to open it safely. If it was a bomb, it was well-designed. The only entrance into the device was through the top, which was weighted down by the full water bottle. No doubt, removing the bottle to gain access would cause the device to go off. She then noticed that the water bottle had no logo in it…and it smelled strange, a little like airplane glue.

“This liquid is designed to explode with the device, severely burning anyone close by.” Batman pointed at the bottle, careful not to jar it. “I’ve seen a device like this before.”

Batgirl nodded and took a few steps back to give Batman room to work.

“No…I need your help.” Batman motioned for Batgirl to come closer. “We need to turn the entire device upside down, without allowing the bottle to detach, and disarm this device. We can’t spill a drop, this is an acid. Now, if we each stand on opposite sides–”

Batman cringed as he heard a loud ‘crunch’ of plastic being shattered. He looked around to the other side of the water cooler – Batgirl was holding a small pack of strapped together nine volt batteries and a bundle of wires in her hand. There was now a small hole about the size of her fist in the plastic case of the water cooler.

He stared at Cassandra without even cracking a smile. “We still have to get this out of here without spilling any of this liquid. Go down to the street, I’ll lower it to you.”

Batgirl nodded and slid open the closest window. She quickly hooked a cable launcher to the windowsill and dropped straight down, using the launcher’s internal resistance to slow her. As soon as her boots touched the ground, she yanked hard on the cable, causing the claw at the other end to detach, and the device to retract.

She stood in the alley below, watching the window, and keeping her ears open as more icy rain and wind pounded her again. It wasn’t any more welcome on the ground then it was on the roof. She turned suddenly as she heard nearly silent footsteps approaching from the street. It was a woman, about thirty years old, carrying a flashlight. Most likely she saw movement around city hall and decided to check it out. Batgirl simply waved at her – she figured the woman would recognize her and leave her alone.

“It’s the murderer! Get her!”

Shock filled Batgirl’s mind as she began to hear footsteps approaching her quickly from all around. People yelling, shotguns being loaded, and at least two large dogs. She tore the cable launcher from her belt again and fired at the stone gutter around City Hall, reeling herself to safety in seconds. She glanced off the edge of the roof to see a large crowd gathering in the streets, some of them armed.

“She’s up there!”

Batgirl ducked just in time for a barrage of bullets to begin tearing the stone gutter to pieces. She decided that it was time to get far away from that place as quickly as possible. She hoped Batman would be safe as well.

She heard the gunfire stop suddenly, and looked over the edge of the roof just in time to see the water cooler falling from the window toward the pavement below. It exploded in a ball of fire as soon as it hit the ground, causing the people below to scatter and run away. She could then see Batman leap out of the window, through the middle of the fireball. She pulled her cable launcher out again and followed Batman quickly.

Batman was completely silent for the entire trip back to the Batcave. Batgirl expected him to say something, to tell her what she did wrong. But he just stared through the windshield, barely acknowledging her presence. She knew he was doing so on purpose, that he could plainly see her staring at him waiting for a response.

Batgirl sighed and leaned back in the Batmobile’s seat and closed her eyes. If Batman wasn’t going to talk to her, she was going to catch up on some sleep.

“Well, well. If it isn’t short, dark, and silent.”

Cassandra only looked for a moment at the guy who said that and his two brainless sidekicks, before trying to walk around him. She hated high school enough without having to deal with bullies as well.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The guy snatched her arm suddenly, twisting it back just enough so it hurt her. “You’ve been avoiding me for the last three days. You owe me three day’s worth of cash.”

She tried to shove him away gently, only to be met by more arm twisting, more pain. She turned away as his face moved closer – his breath smelled like old socks.

“You can either pay…or you can spend the day stuffed into this locker. Which is it going to be?”

Cassandra suddenly grabbed the guy by his throat with her free arm, slamming his forehead into the edge of an open locker door. She smiled a little as she noticed that his head was now bleeding – he noticed it at the same time, and slowly let go of her arm. She took advantage of that moment, and slammed the locker door shut on the guy’s hand.

As his screams filled the hallways, and heavy footsteps approached – those owned by teachers, principles, and security guards in the school – Cassandra stepped away from a deep red pool of blood forming on the floor. The bully was now laying on the floor, clutching his bleeding hand. Two of his fingers were lying four feet away on the polished linoleum, sitting in small pools of blood as well.

She stood frozen as she watched two men in suits and another with a whistle around his neck approaching quickly – one math teacher, one assistant principal, and one physical education teacher carrying ice and bandages. As they approached, she began to realize that they would want her to pay a big penalty for this somehow. Her imagination began running, as she pictured the local police handcuffing her and taking her away to jail.

She closed her eyes for a second before racing for the emergency exit, the teacher and assistant principal yelling after her. She kept running – not knowing where to stop, where she would be safe. She knew she did the right thing…only perhaps the wrong way.

As soon as she thought she was far enough from the school, she ducked into a small pool hall located nearby, heading straight for the restroom. She locked herself inside one of the cubicles to stare at her hands. For some reason, since she left the school she imagined them to be covered in blood. But her hands, as well as her clothing, were perfectly clean. Too perfect. Hurting people was just…too perfect.

A woman crying in the restroom of that pool hall was not all that unusual, which is why no one came to ask if everything was okay during the entire hour she spent curled up inside that cubicle, sobbing. That’s when she realized the reason why. No one cared.

Cassandra woke up in the passenger seat of the Batmobile as it sat in the Batcave with the canopy open. She was still in her leather costume – except her mask had been removed and placed in the center of the driver’s seat. In her lap, someone had dropped a newspaper.

She lifted the paper up with her gloved hands to read the headline – ‘Bat-girl terror at City Hall’. The article went on to describe an explosion, multiple assaults – all bogus witness accounts. It then mentioned a seventeen year old kid killed by her in a gang fight days earlier. The article quoted his mother as saying, ‘He was such a good boy’. She began to frown as she read the next sentence – ‘Police are still searching for the Bat-girl’.

Cassandra’s heart began to sink as she walked through the Batcave slowly, newspaper still in hand. The public who once loved her…now wanted her dead? And why didn’t Bruce tell her? It was irresponsible of him not to. She could have been killed, had that woman last night been armed as well as some of the other people in that mob.

“Are you beginning to understand why we must hide from the public?”

Bruce didn’t even turn around from his computer terminal when he said that. It was as if he didn’t seem to care how she felt, he only cared about making his point, teaching his lessons. Just when she thought he had an inkling of human compassion, he proved himself once again to be as cold, unforgiving, and uncaring as the villains he fought. She knew he put that newspaper in her lap to try and hurt and humble her, to take her down a notch or two. He was so insensitive–

“Do you understand now, Cassandra?”

Cassandra stormed over to Bruce, just as he began turning around slowly. She noted the look of surprise on his face, of shock as she was suddenly standing over him, on her face a look of anger he could not possibly comprehend.

A second later, Bruce was on the floor holding his hand over his nose. Cassandra caught him off guard with a hard punch to the face. He was now looking up at her from the ground, his face echoing defiance to cover his hurt pride. She pointed a gloved finger inches away from his face.

“Don’t…talk down to me!”

Bruce stared at Cassandra as she made her way across the cave, toward the entrance to the house. He sat on the floor for a moment longer before deciding to pull himself to his feet. As he did, he looked up to see Alfred offering him a tissue.

“I fear you have met your match, Master Bruce.”

Bruce laughed a little and shook his head as he took the tissue from Alfred’s hand. “First Barbara, and now her. Why can’t I just pick a Batgirl who’s a little less independent?”

“Master Bruce.” Alfred placed the box of tissues he brought with him on the counter next to Bruce’s terminal. “I see Cassandra’s independence as an asset. It gives her potential to become even better then you are at what you do.”

“Is that a good thing?” Bruce sat down in his chair and turned to face Alfred. “Do I want someone like Cassandra watching my back?”

“That depends, Master Bruce.” Alfred picked up a leftover tray and the tissue box and began heading toward the entrance to the house. “Personally…I’m happy Cassandra is looking after you. It’s a little more assurance that you will come back alive each night.”

“She’s my bodyguard now?”

Alfred stopped walking and smiled as he shook his head slowly. “She is your equal, Master Bruce. A partnership of equals is most rewarding.”

“Equals.” As Alfred left the room, Bruce shook his head. Could Alfred be right? Did Cassandra expect to be treated as an equal? He sighed as he stood up and headed into the house. Bruce hated having to apologize…but this time he felt he needed to.

 

“I hear that you hit Bruce.”

Cassandra looked up and frowned as Tim entered her room. He didn’t even bother knocking this time. She put down her book and slid toward the edge of the bed quickly, her eyes on Tim as he moved toward her. She met him a couple of feet from the foot of the bed, standing with her hands in the pockets of her jeans, looking up at Tim.

“Listen, Cassandra…I know he can grate on your nerves, but you can’t hit him. The man holds grudges.” Tim walked around Cassandra and sat on the edge of a the vanity table in the room. “He’ll get revenge somehow. Send you on some humbling mission, or leave you behind when you want to go.”

Cassandra sighed and looked down at the floor for a second before staring at Tim again. She didn’t care what Bruce did to retaliate – she knew he would, and she was prepared.

“Look, Cassandra–” Tim turned his head slightly toward the doorway. He heard someone approaching. Cassandra did as well. “Just don’t get on his bad side, okay?”

Cassandra nodded silently as she watched Bruce push the door to her room open wide. He was wearing most of the Batman costume, with the exception of the mask.

“Tim, go change. You too, Cassandra. We have work to do.”

Cassandra nodded and headed toward her closet to pull out her costume as Bruce and Tim left silently, closing the door behind them. Work to do? Work that required all three of them? And why was Bruce being so secretive? Usually he would try to clue her in on a mission before she even changed. Her heart began speeding up a little – if Bruce was trying to hurry them, it could mean that it was an emergency…or that it was a test.

She was smiling as she put on her black leather gloves, and stopped to grab her mask, belt, and a backpack filled with her civilian clothing – something told her she would need them as well. If it was a test, then maybe Tim was right. Maybe they were going on a mission intended to humble her. But why would that take all three of them? Something just didn’t make sense.

“Let’s go.”

Those were the only words said by Batman before the three of them race out toward Gotham City in the Batmobile. Not a word was spoken the entire trip – and it scared Cassandra a little bit. No information, no clues. It was a trip into the unknown.

“Isn’t this Shreck’s office tower?”

Batman looked at Robin for a second, but didn’t answer the rather obvious question. “We’re here to get two items. One is a a file stolen from my office.”

“And the other item?” Robin looked at the cramped window seat to see Cassandra quietly reading a book she brought along. Her mask sat on the dashboard in front of her.

“You’ll know it when you see it.” Bruce suddenly hit the button to open the canopy, hoping to surprise Cassandra – but she was already wearing her mask and climbing out of the car by the time he looked up.

Robin folded his arms. He was getting a little annoyed by Batman’s cryptic phrasing. “So…What’s the plan?”

“There is no plan.” Batman looked at Cassandra, as his arm pointed at a lighted office high atop the gothic thirty floor tall tower. “Which is where you excel, Batgirl. You will retrieve the second item from Shreck’s office. The two of us will retrieve the stolen file from the high-security basement storage facility.”

Batgirl nodded as Batman shifted his gaze to Robin. The two then just took off for one of the side entrances. She stood for a moment, looking up at the tower. She knew she couldn’t gain entrance from up there, the glass windows were sealed, and no doubt protected by alarms. And the roof was simply too high for a cable launcher to reach. She smiled at herself again – this was most definitely a test.

Climbing back into the Batmobile and hitting the button to close the canopy was the cover she needed for the first part of her plan. She pulled her backpack out from behind the passenger seat, and quickly removed her cape. She decided she would slip her jeans and shirt over part of her costume, while her cape, mask, and belt would be stowed safely in the backpack. She would walk right past security, through the lobby.

“Sorry…you can’t get in if you’re not on the list.”

It was a perfectly formulated plan, all right – until Cassandra encountered an old security guard sitting at a small desk in the center of the lobby. A ‘closet dictator’ – someone who had no power in life, and insisted on making those around him feel just as powerless.

Luckily, he was just as slow as he looked – she easily made it to the elevator before he even got out of his seat. All he could do was yell ‘stop!’. But she paid him no mind, even when he added, ‘Oh…not again’. Though she did wonder what he meant by ‘again’.

Cassandra counted herself lucky as she noticed that the camera in the elevator had already been broken. It dangled from the celling by a single wire. She swapped the cape, belt, and mask in her backpack for her civilian clothing once more as the elevator headed up to the thirtieth floor.

As the elevator doors opened, stillness prevailed. Though all the lights on the overdecorated ‘executive’ floor were on, Batgirl could hear nothing more then a rush of air coming from ducts in the ceiling. It was eerily quiet.

She stepped out of the elevator silently, only to be startled by the relatively loud sound of its doors sliding closed. In front of the elevators was a vacant reception desk made of expensive wood, with gold trim to match the gold colored elevator doors and a gold-painted stripe running along the hallway.

“Well. This is certainly…cute.”

Batgirl looked around frantically for the source of the voice – it was coming from above her. She watched as a tall woman in a leather costume slide down from an open ceiling tile, landing on the carpeted hallway floor only a short distance away. Batgirl vaguely recognized the woman as she unwrapped a leather whip from around her waist.

“What’s the matter…Never seen a full-grown woman with a whip walk around in a cat costume?”

The woman walked a little closer. She seemed so confident, but she also was careful to keep her distance. Batgirl’s first instinct was to prepare for a fight – but something deep inside her mind told her that this woman wasn’t a threat. She just wanted to…talk?

“I’m known as Catwoman, but my friends call me…Wait, I don’t have any friends.” The woman laughed momentarily in spite of herself, and then set a steady gaze on Batgirl as her expression turned serious. “Batty sent you here to get the prototype, didn’t he? At least he sent a woman to do the job. Good for him.”

Prototype? Batgirl’s facial expression unconsciously changed as confusion set in. Why did Bruce send her to take a prototype?

“Confused?” She laughed again as she began wrapping the end of whip she carried around her fingers and pacing back and forth. “Look…I know who you are. And I know what kind of trouble you’ve been in. I know…because I was the same way.”

Batgirl didn’t move a muscle as her eyes followed Catwoman back and forth. She knew that Catwoman was trying to manipulate her. But somehow, deep down, she felt that maybe Catwoman was right. Given slightly different circumstances, she could have been just like Catwoman. Batgirl knew that she wasn’t a threat…and yet she couldn’t bring herself to trust Catwoman either.

“Follow me. I know where the prototype is.” Catwoman smiled warmly as she started walking backwards down the hall, beckoning Batgirl with her index finger. “You can trust me. I might scratch, but I won’t bite.”

Strange as it was, Batgirl somehow found herself following Catwoman down the hallway silently. The two of them were a stark contrast. Batgirl snuck down the hall slowly, walking silently, alert, very focused. Catwoman zipped down the hall quickly, humming to herself and stopping once in a while, using her whip to knock expensive artwork hanging on the wall to the floor with a loud crash. She seemed to be enjoying herself, while Batgirl was there strictly on business.

Batgirl couldn’t help but secretly wonder if she should take a page from Catwoman’s book, to act more like her. After all, Batman always seemed to be so sullen, almost totally emotionless. It’s not how she wanted to be. Then again, Catwoman seemed to be at the exact opposite of the spectrum – emotional almost to the point of being frivolous. Then again, she had known Bruce for months…while she only met Catwoman a few minutes ago.

A smile began to creep onto Batgirl’s face as she watched Catwoman work. She was having so much fun…and yet she seemed to be just as efficient as Batman. Catwoman had gained entry to the building just as easily as Batgirl did – she was probably the one who broke the elevator camera – and still hadn’t been caught. And yet, she made no effort to be silent or stealthy. It was Catwoman’s confidence that intrigued Batgirl – almost as if Catwoman believed herself to be invincible.

“Umm…do you do locks, Batgirl?” Catwoman pointed at a solid wood door with a small keypad on the wall next to it. That was the one thing that separated Batgirl from Catwoman – the fact that Catwoman wasn’t as well equipped. Still, Batgirl had to admire the fact that Catwoman tried, even though she was almost always out-gunned and out-supplied.

Batgirl smiled at Catwoman before crashing through the wooden door, feet first. That was her specialty, and she wouldn’t pass on the chance to impress Catwoman for once. As soon as she entered, she guessed that the huge, decorative room must be Shreck’s office. A large glass and wood desk dominated the room, and green glass tables were scattered throughout, displaying various models of upcoming projects.

“Nice entrance. You do think a little like me.” Catwoman laughed out loud before following Batgirl into the room. She immediately headed to one of the tables, and picked up a plain white plastic box. “Ah, the prototype. You want it?”

Batgirl smiled and nodded as Catwoman handed her the box. She then watched Catwoman walk over to the desk, and reach into one of the drawers quickly. She wondered what Catwoman was looking for…but decided not to ask.

“Gotta go, Batgirl.” Catwoman gave Batgirl a half-salute as she began quickly walking backwards toward the door they used to enter earlier. “Say hi to Batty for me. And just remember…you have a lot to learn.”

A lot to learn. As Batgirl watched Catwoman vanish into the hallway, a chill ran down her spine. She stared at the small white box for a moment. Instinct told her exactly what was in that box before she even opened it – and as she did, slowly…her worst fears were confirmed. It was empty. Catwoman just took the prototype right out from under her nose, and even tricked Batgirl into helping her, too.

Batgirl was angry. She raced out into the hallway and toward the elevator and stairs to try and confront Catwoman. It was no use…she was long gone. Not only that, but Catwoman even managed to trip an alarm on the way out. It was time to evacuate. She headed to the stairs and used a cable launcher to descend quickly.

Bruce would be so disappointed. That’s all Batgirl could think about as she walked out of the building’s suddenly empty lobby with her head hanging. She slowly walked over to the Batmobile – she knew Batman would be in there waiting for her.

“Did you get it?”

Those were the only words spoken by Batman as Cassandra climbed into the passenger side. She turned away from him as she tossed the small white plastic cube into Robin’s lap. She heard a deep sigh from Batman as she leaned her head against the sloped glass of the canopy, tears of shame and humiliation welling up in her eyes.

“I see you met Catwoman.”

Batgirl didn’t even answer. She didn’t have to…he knew. She could tell that he also knew how she felt about her first meeting with Catwoman as well – not another word was spoken all the way back home.

That night, Cassandra dreamed. She dreamed of a being a normal daughter, in a ‘normal’ family. It wasn’t a wish, more like an experience she would have liked to have had. It seemed so serene, and yet so…static. It made her feel happy, for once, to be who she was – someone who was so…alive.

Humiliation was a part of life, as it was for many other people – it was ‘normal’. But she had one thing most ‘normal’ people didn’t have – she was Batgirl…and she wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Batgirl felt full of energy as she stood high atop the steeply sloped roof of the tall, gothic City Hall building. An icy rain pounded her, wind tearing from behind her, through her hair which came out from under the mask part of her costume. She thought about tying it up before she left the Batcave. Now she regretted not doing so as she brushed a few strands back behind her shoulders.

“You’re supposed to keep the hair inside your costume.”

She glanced up at Batman for a second, and just shrugged in response. Unlike Bruce, she liked a little variety. Bruce was obsessed with uniformity, even making sure the desk in his office was always exactly in the center of the room. She smiled to herself when she noticed that he had even stationed them exactly in the center of the roof’s edge.

After waking Cassandra up in the middle of the night and urging her to ‘dress up’ and head to the Batcave, Bruce explained that he had a tip – that someone was going to plant a bomb in City Hall. Cassandra worried a little bit about where he got these tips – for a crime fighter he seemed to have more connections then most criminals – but she figured that it was his specialty. After all, he did spend more money on fighting crime then most police departments.

So she waited. As the icy rain began soaking through her hair, her leather costume offering her little protection other then keeping the rest of her dry…she waited, with Batman standing over her. A lot of waiting was involved when on ‘night patrol’, it came with the territory. She learned that as long as Batman was willing to wait, there was something worth waiting for.

But in this case, she had a strange feeling that something was wrong, that even Batman was missing something. She knew that he checked to make sure that the tip was more then just a hoax. She believed it was true. But there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on…

Batgirl turned around suddenly to face Batman, her eyes wide with both fear and anticipation. She stared for a second as he met her emotion-filled gaze with nothing but a cold, calculated stare. For a moment, she understood why people were so frightened of meeting Batman. Just one look made her question whether he was indeed alive, whether he had a soul.

“Well?” Batman said just one word without breaking his stare. He knew she had something on her mind – he knew how to read body language well.

“It’s already here.” Batgirl’s voice was barely above a whisper, but her words were enough to send chills through both of them. The reason why they had been waiting so long was because the bomb had already been planted before they arrived.

Batman simply nodded, and turned to head down the steep slope of the roof, toward a window below, careful to hook a small cable device around a chimney first. Batgirl simply slid right past him down the slippery tile, and grabbed the stone gutter with her gloved hands just as she was about to fall off of the roof. She then swung and landed on one of the large stone windowsills.

By the time Batman reached the windowsill, Batgirl had already opened the window and was climbing inside. He hoped that she had checked for security systems before entering – but he had faith that she would have thought of it.

“We’ll start in the basement. And no more showing off.”

Batgirl smiled again and followed Batman as he headed toward the stairway through the dark hallways. She was amazed at how well her vision worked when there was so little light. Working at night, every night, was giving her an edge – she could see everything in that hallway, even though it was illuminated only by stray light from street lamps outside. She could even read the notes pinned to a cork billboard on one wall.

She suddenly paused and began staring at the billboard. Something she saw out of the corner of her eye seemed out of place. It was an ad for a water cooler company – very strange, since she could see a water cooler sitting only a few feet from her…and the big plastic bottle on top was full!

Batman stopped walking as soon as he noticed that Batgirl had paused to read the billboard. He followed her gaze over to the water cooler, noticing about the same time she did that it wasn’t plugged in.

Batgirl walked over to the water cooler slowly, and began examining it to see if there was a way to open it safely. If it was a bomb, it was well-designed. The only entrance into the device was through the top, which was weighted down by the full water bottle. No doubt, removing the bottle to gain access would cause the device to go off. She then noticed that the water bottle had no logo in it…and it smelled strange, a little like airplane glue.

“This liquid is designed to explode with the device, severely burning anyone close by.” Batman pointed at the bottle, careful not to jar it. “I’ve seen a device like this before.”

Batgirl nodded and took a few steps back to give Batman room to work.

“No…I need your help.” Batman motioned for Batgirl to come closer. “We need to turn the entire device upside down, without allowing the bottle to detach, and disarm this device. We can’t spill a drop, this is an acid. Now, if we each stand on opposite sides–”

Batman cringed as he heard a loud ‘crunch’ of plastic being shattered. He looked around to the other side of the water cooler – Batgirl was holding a small pack of strapped together nine volt batteries and a bundle of wires in her hand. There was now a small hole about the size of her fist in the plastic case of the water cooler.

He stared at Cassandra without even cracking a smile. “We still have to get this out of here without spilling any of this liquid. Go down to the street, I’ll lower it to you.”

Batgirl nodded and slid open the closest window. She quickly hooked a cable launcher to the windowsill and dropped straight down, using the launcher’s internal resistance to slow her. As soon as her boots touched the ground, she yanked hard on the cable, causing the claw at the other end to detach, and the device to retract.

She stood in the alley below, watching the window, and keeping her ears open as more icy rain and wind pounded her again. It wasn’t any more welcome on the ground then it was on the roof. She turned suddenly as she heard nearly silent footsteps approaching from the street. It was a woman, about thirty years old, carrying a flashlight. Most likely she saw movement around city hall and decided to check it out. Batgirl simply waved at her – she figured the woman would recognize her and leave her alone.

“It’s the murderer! Get her!”

Shock filled Batgirl’s mind as she began to hear footsteps approaching her quickly from all around. People yelling, shotguns being loaded, and at least two large dogs. She tore the cable launcher from her belt again and fired at the stone gutter around City Hall, reeling herself to safety in seconds. She glanced off the edge of the roof to see a large crowd gathering in the streets, some of them armed.

“She’s up there!”

Batgirl ducked just in time for a barrage of bullets to begin tearing the stone gutter to pieces. She decided that it was time to get far away from that place as quickly as possible. She hoped Batman would be safe as well.

She heard the gunfire stop suddenly, and looked over the edge of the roof just in time to see the water cooler falling from the window toward the pavement below. It exploded in a ball of fire as soon as it hit the ground, causing the people below to scatter and run away. She could then see Batman leap out of the window, through the middle of the fireball. She pulled her cable launcher out again and followed Batman quickly.

Batman was completely silent for the entire trip back to the Batcave. Batgirl expected him to say something, to tell her what she did wrong. But he just stared through the windshield, barely acknowledging her presence. She knew he was doing so on purpose, that he could plainly see her staring at him waiting for a response.

Batgirl sighed and leaned back in the Batmobile’s seat and closed her eyes. If Batman wasn’t going to talk to her, she was going to catch up on some sleep.

“Well, well. If it isn’t short, dark, and silent.”

Cassandra only looked for a moment at the guy who said that and his two brainless sidekicks, before trying to walk around him. She hated high school enough without having to deal with bullies as well.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The guy snatched her arm suddenly, twisting it back just enough so it hurt her. “You’ve been avoiding me for the last three days. You owe me three day’s worth of cash.”

She tried to shove him away gently, only to be met by more arm twisting, more pain. She turned away as his face moved closer – his breath smelled like old socks.

“You can either pay…or you can spend the day stuffed into this locker. Which is it going to be?”

Cassandra suddenly grabbed the guy by his throat with her free arm, slamming his forehead into the edge of an open locker door. She smiled a little as she noticed that his head was now bleeding – he noticed it at the same time, and slowly let go of her arm. She took advantage of that moment, and slammed the locker door shut on the guy’s hand.

As his screams filled the hallways, and heavy footsteps approached – those owned by teachers, principles, and security guards in the school – Cassandra stepped away from a deep red pool of blood forming on the floor. The bully was now laying on the floor, clutching his bleeding hand. Two of his fingers were lying four feet away on the polished linoleum, sitting in small pools of blood as well.

She stood frozen as she watched two men in suits and another with a whistle around his neck approaching quickly – one math teacher, one assistant principal, and one physical education teacher carrying ice and bandages. As they approached, she began to realize that they would want her to pay a big penalty for this somehow. Her imagination began running, as she pictured the local police handcuffing her and taking her away to jail.

She closed her eyes for a second before racing for the emergency exit, the teacher and assistant principal yelling after her. She kept running – not knowing where to stop, where she would be safe. She knew she did the right thing…only perhaps the wrong way.

As soon as she thought she was far enough from the school, she ducked into a small pool hall located nearby, heading straight for the restroom. She locked herself inside one of the cubicles to stare at her hands. For some reason, since she left the school she imagined them to be covered in blood. But her hands, as well as her clothing, were perfectly clean. Too perfect. Hurting people was just…too perfect.

A woman crying in the restroom of that pool hall was not all that unusual, which is why no one came to ask if everything was okay during the entire hour she spent curled up inside that cubicle, sobbing. That’s when she realized the reason why. No one cared.

Cassandra woke up in the passenger seat of the Batmobile as it sat in the Batcave with the canopy open. She was still in her leather costume – except her mask had been removed and placed in the center of the driver’s seat. In her lap, someone had dropped a newspaper.

She lifted the paper up with her gloved hands to read the headline – ‘Bat-girl terror at City Hall’. The article went on to describe an explosion, multiple assaults – all bogus witness accounts. It then mentioned a seventeen year old kid killed by her in a gang fight days earlier. The article quoted his mother as saying, ‘He was such a good boy’. She began to frown as she read the next sentence – ‘Police are still searching for the Bat-girl’.

Cassandra’s heart began to sink as she walked through the Batcave slowly, newspaper still in hand. The public who once loved her…now wanted her dead? And why didn’t Bruce tell her? It was irresponsible of him not to. She could have been killed, had that woman last night been armed as well as some of the other people in that mob.

“Are you beginning to understand why we must hide from the public?”

Bruce didn’t even turn around from his computer terminal when he said that. It was as if he didn’t seem to care how she felt, he only cared about making his point, teaching his lessons. Just when she thought he had an inkling of human compassion, he proved himself once again to be as cold, unforgiving, and uncaring as the villains he fought. She knew he put that newspaper in her lap to try and hurt and humble her, to take her down a notch or two. He was so insensitive–

“Do you understand now, Cassandra?”

Cassandra stormed over to Bruce, just as he began turning around slowly. She noted the look of surprise on his face, of shock as she was suddenly standing over him, on her face a look of anger he could not possibly comprehend.

A second later, Bruce was on the floor holding his hand over his nose. Cassandra caught him off guard with a hard punch to the face. He was now looking up at her from the ground, his face echoing defiance to cover his hurt pride. She pointed a gloved finger inches away from his face.

“Don’t…talk down to me!”

Bruce stared at Cassandra as she made her way across the cave, toward the entrance to the house. He sat on the floor for a moment longer before deciding to pull himself to his feet. As he did, he looked up to see Alfred offering him a tissue.

“I fear you have met your match, Master Bruce.”

Bruce laughed a little and shook his head as he took the tissue from Alfred’s hand. “First Barbara, and now her. Why can’t I just pick a Batgirl who’s a little less independent?”

“Master Bruce.” Alfred placed the box of tissues he brought with him on the counter next to Bruce’s terminal. “I see Cassandra’s independence as an asset. It gives her potential to become even better then you are at what you do.”

“Is that a good thing?” Bruce sat down in his chair and turned to face Alfred. “Do I want someone like Cassandra watching my back?”

“That depends, Master Bruce.” Alfred picked up a leftover tray and the tissue box and began heading toward the entrance to the house. “Personally…I’m happy Cassandra is looking after you. It’s a little more assurance that you will come back alive each night.”

“She’s my bodyguard now?”

Alfred stopped walking and smiled as he shook his head slowly. “She is your equal, Master Bruce. A partnership of equals is most rewarding.”

“Equals.” As Alfred left the room, Bruce shook his head. Could Alfred be right? Did Cassandra expect to be treated as an equal? He sighed as he stood up and headed into the house. Bruce hated having to apologize…but this time he felt he needed to.

 

“I hear that you hit Bruce.”

Cassandra looked up and frowned as Tim entered her room. He didn’t even bother knocking this time. She put down her book and slid toward the edge of the bed quickly, her eyes on Tim as he moved toward her. She met him a couple of feet from the foot of the bed, standing with her hands in the pockets of her jeans, looking up at Tim.

“Listen, Cassandra…I know he can grate on your nerves, but you can’t hit him. The man holds grudges.” Tim walked around Cassandra and sat on the edge of a the vanity table in the room. “He’ll get revenge somehow. Send you on some humbling mission, or leave you behind when you want to go.”

Cassandra sighed and looked down at the floor for a second before staring at Tim again. She didn’t care what Bruce did to retaliate – she knew he would, and she was prepared.

“Look, Cassandra–” Tim turned his head slightly toward the doorway. He heard someone approaching. Cassandra did as well. “Just don’t get on his bad side, okay?”

Cassandra nodded silently as she watched Bruce push the door to her room open wide. He was wearing most of the Batman costume, with the exception of the mask.

“Tim, go change. You too, Cassandra. We have work to do.”

Cassandra nodded and headed toward her closet to pull out her costume as Bruce and Tim left silently, closing the door behind them. Work to do? Work that required all three of them? And why was Bruce being so secretive? Usually he would try to clue her in on a mission before she even changed. Her heart began speeding up a little – if Bruce was trying to hurry them, it could mean that it was an emergency…or that it was a test.

She was smiling as she put on her black leather gloves, and stopped to grab her mask, belt, and a backpack filled with her civilian clothing – something told her she would need them as well. If it was a test, then maybe Tim was right. Maybe they were going on a mission intended to humble her. But why would that take all three of them? Something just didn’t make sense.

“Let’s go.”

Those were the only words said by Batman before the three of them race out toward Gotham City in the Batmobile. Not a word was spoken the entire trip – and it scared Cassandra a little bit. No information, no clues. It was a trip into the unknown.

—

“Isn’t this Shreck’s office tower?”

Batman looked at Robin for a second, but didn’t answer the rather obvious question. “We’re here to get two items. One is a a file stolen from my office.”

“And the other item?” Robin looked at the cramped window seat to see Cassandra quietly reading a book she brought along. Her mask sat on the dashboard in front of her.

“You’ll know it when you see it.” Bruce suddenly hit the button to open the canopy, hoping to surprise Cassandra – but she was already wearing her mask and climbing out of the car by the time he looked up.

Robin folded his arms. He was getting a little annoyed by Batman’s cryptic phrasing. “So…What’s the plan?”

“There is no plan.” Batman looked at Cassandra, as his arm pointed at a lighted office high atop the gothic thirty floor tall tower. “Which is where you excel, Batgirl. You will retrieve the second item from Shreck’s office. The two of us will retrieve the stolen file from the high-security basement storage facility.”

Batgirl nodded as Batman shifted his gaze to Robin. The two then just took off for one of the side entrances. She stood for a moment, looking up at the tower. She knew she couldn’t gain entrance from up there, the glass windows were sealed, and no doubt protected by alarms. And the roof was simply too high for a cable launcher to reach. She smiled at herself again – this was most definitely a test.

Climbing back into the Batmobile and hitting the button to close the canopy was the cover she needed for the first part of her plan. She pulled her backpack out from behind the passenger seat, and quickly removed her cape. She decided she would slip her jeans and shirt over part of her costume, while her cape, mask, and belt would be stowed safely in the backpack. She would walk right past security, through the lobby.

“Sorry…you can’t get in if you’re not on the list.”

It was a perfectly formulated plan, all right – until Cassandra encountered an old security guard sitting at a small desk in the center of the lobby. A ‘closet dictator’ – someone who had no power in life, and insisted on making those around him feel just as powerless.

Luckily, he was just as slow as he looked – she easily made it to the elevator before he even got out of his seat. All he could do was yell ‘stop!’. But she paid him no mind, even when he added, ‘Oh…not again’. Though she did wonder what he meant by ‘again’.

Cassandra counted herself lucky as she noticed that the camera in the elevator had already been broken. It dangled from the celling by a single wire. She swapped the cape, belt, and mask in her backpack for her civilian clothing once more as the elevator headed up to the thirtieth floor.

As the elevator doors opened, stillness prevailed. Though all the lights on the overdecorated ‘executive’ floor were on, Batgirl could hear nothing more then a rush of air coming from ducts in the ceiling. It was eerily quiet.

She stepped out of the elevator silently, only to be startled by the relatively loud sound of its doors sliding closed. In front of the elevators was a vacant reception desk made of expensive wood, with gold trim to match the gold colored elevator doors and a gold-painted stripe running along the hallway.

“Well. This is certainly…cute.”

Batgirl looked around frantically for the source of the voice – it was coming from above her. She watched as a tall woman in a leather costume slide down from an open ceiling tile, landing on the carpeted hallway floor only a short distance away. Batgirl vaguely recognized the woman as she unwrapped a leather whip from around her waist.

“What’s the matter…Never seen a full-grown woman with a whip walk around in a cat costume?”

The woman walked a little closer. She seemed so confident, but she also was careful to keep her distance. Batgirl’s first instinct was to prepare for a fight – but something deep inside her mind told her that this woman wasn’t a threat. She just wanted to…talk?

“I’m known as Catwoman, but my friends call me…Wait, I don’t have any friends.” The woman laughed momentarily in spite of herself, and then set a steady gaze on Batgirl as her expression turned serious. “Batty sent you here to get the prototype, didn’t he? At least he sent a woman to do the job. Good for him.”

Prototype? Batgirl’s facial expression unconsciously changed as confusion set in. Why did Bruce send her to take a prototype?

“Confused?” She laughed again as she began wrapping the end of whip she carried around her fingers and pacing back and forth. “Look…I know who you are. And I know what kind of trouble you’ve been in. I know…because I was the same way.”

Batgirl didn’t move a muscle as her eyes followed Catwoman back and forth. She knew that Catwoman was trying to manipulate her. But somehow, deep down, she felt that maybe Catwoman was right. Given slightly different circumstances, she could have been just like Catwoman. Batgirl knew that she wasn’t a threat…and yet she couldn’t bring herself to trust Catwoman either.

“Follow me. I know where the prototype is.” Catwoman smiled warmly as she started walking backwards down the hall, beckoning Batgirl with her index finger. “You can trust me. I might scratch, but I won’t bite.”

Strange as it was, Batgirl somehow found herself following Catwoman down the hallway silently. The two of them were a stark contrast. Batgirl snuck down the hall slowly, walking silently, alert, very focused. Catwoman zipped down the hall quickly, humming to herself and stopping once in a while, using her whip to knock expensive artwork hanging on the wall to the floor with a loud crash. She seemed to be enjoying herself, while Batgirl was there strictly on business.

Batgirl couldn’t help but secretly wonder if she should take a page from Catwoman’s book, to act more like her. After all, Batman always seemed to be so sullen, almost totally emotionless. It’s not how she wanted to be. Then again, Catwoman seemed to be at the exact opposite of the spectrum – emotional almost to the point of being frivolous. Then again, she had known Bruce for months…while she only met Catwoman a few minutes ago.

A smile began to creep onto Batgirl’s face as she watched Catwoman work. She was having so much fun…and yet she seemed to be just as efficient as Batman. Catwoman had gained entry to the building just as easily as Batgirl did – she was probably the one who broke the elevator camera – and still hadn’t been caught. And yet, she made no effort to be silent or stealthy. It was Catwoman’s confidence that intrigued Batgirl – almost as if Catwoman believed herself to be invincible.

“Umm…do you do locks, Batgirl?” Catwoman pointed at a solid wood door with a small keypad on the wall next to it. That was the one thing that separated Batgirl from Catwoman – the fact that Catwoman wasn’t as well equipped. Still, Batgirl had to admire the fact that Catwoman tried, even though she was almost always out-gunned and out-supplied.

Batgirl smiled at Catwoman before crashing through the wooden door, feet first. That was her specialty, and she wouldn’t pass on the chance to impress Catwoman for once. As soon as she entered, she guessed that the huge, decorative room must be Shreck’s office. A large glass and wood desk dominated the room, and green glass tables were scattered throughout, displaying various models of upcoming projects.

“Nice entrance. You do think a little like me.” Catwoman laughed out loud before following Batgirl into the room. She immediately headed to one of the tables, and picked up a plain white plastic box. “Ah, the prototype. You want it?”

Batgirl smiled and nodded as Catwoman handed her the box. She then watched Catwoman walk over to the desk, and reach into one of the drawers quickly. She wondered what Catwoman was looking for…but decided not to ask.

“Gotta go, Batgirl.” Catwoman gave Batgirl a half-salute as she began quickly walking backwards toward the door they used to enter earlier. “Say hi to Batty for me. And just remember…you have a lot to learn.”

A lot to learn. As Batgirl watched Catwoman vanish into the hallway, a chill ran down her spine. She stared at the small white box for a moment. Instinct told her exactly what was in that box before she even opened it – and as she did, slowly…her worst fears were confirmed. It was empty. Catwoman just took the prototype right out from under her nose, and even tricked Batgirl into helping her, too.

Batgirl was angry. She raced out into the hallway and toward the elevator and stairs to try and confront Catwoman. It was no use…she was long gone. Not only that, but Catwoman even managed to trip an alarm on the way out. It was time to evacuate. She headed to the stairs and used a cable launcher to descend quickly.

Bruce would be so disappointed. That’s all Batgirl could think about as she walked out of the building’s suddenly empty lobby with her head hanging. She slowly walked over to the Batmobile – she knew Batman would be in there waiting for her.

“Did you get it?”

Those were the only words spoken by Batman as Cassandra climbed into the passenger side. She turned away from him as she tossed the small white plastic cube into Robin’s lap. She heard a deep sigh from Batman as she leaned her head against the sloped glass of the canopy, tears of shame and humiliation welling up in her eyes.

“I see you met Catwoman.”

Batgirl didn’t even answer. She didn’t have to…he knew. She could tell that he also knew how she felt about her first meeting with Catwoman as well – not another word was spoken all the way back home.

That night, Cassandra dreamed. She dreamed of a being a normal daughter, in a ‘normal’ family. It wasn’t a wish, more like an experience she would have liked to have had. It seemed so serene, and yet so…static. It made her feel happy, for once, to be who she was – someone who was so…alive.

Humiliation was a part of life, as it was for many other people – it was ‘normal’. But she had one thing most ‘normal’ people didn’t have – she was Batgirl…and she wouldn’t trade that for anything.

“Record.”

Bruce sat alone in a darkened office, the glow of his computer screen reflecting off of his reading glasses. Once in a while, he would record his thoughts into his computer, securely, so he would have time to peruse them later on and gain a new perspective on things. This time around, the foremost thought on his mind was…

“Cassandra. Alfred was right about her. She is a lot like me when I was younger.”

Bruce sighed and pressed the ‘pause’ button on his recording software. His own words echoed in his mind, reminding him that he ventured too close to place he didn’t want to visit – his own childhood. He took a deep breath, and pressed ‘record’ again.

“Her intelligence and fighting skills are extraordinary. She may even rival my own skills one day…But at the moment she’s still immature, inexperienced.”

Bruce bit his lip as his feelings about what happened earlier surfaced. “I…I thought the exercise with The Joker would humble her a little. She surprised even me.”

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling as he continued. “Still…I’m not sure if she’s right for the job. She doesn’t take orders well, she complains. If she’s to succeed, she’ll have to accept me as the boss. Only me–”

Bruce hit the pause button as he heard a knock at the door. “Yes?”

Alfred opened the door to the office slowly. “Master Bruce. Am I disturbing you?”

“No, Alfred. What is it?”

“Master Drake is back from his retreat, Master Bruce. He’s in the kitchen, searching for a snack.”

Bruce smiled. Tim was someone who knew how to follow orders. He hoped that the current Robin’s presence might encourage some discipline in Cassandra. Maybe it was time for him to spark some competitive behavior between the two.

“I’ll be there in a moment, Alfred. Thanks.”

Cassandra heard a knock on her door. She sighed as she marked the page she was reading in her book and jumped off of her bed. Someone always seemed to want to talk to her when she wanted to read.

She opened the door quickly and saw that it was Alfred. She gave him an impatient stare.

“Miss Cassandra, Master Drake is in the kitchen. It would be polite for you to meet him.”

Cassandra sighed and pointed at the book sitting on her bed.

Alfred smiled. “I know how you feel, Miss Cassandra. Nothing beats a good book.”

Cassandra laughed softly and followed Alfred toward the kitchen. She was a little nervous – she never met Tim Drake before. She would be meeting Robin himself.

Alfred turned to face her as he walked through the doorway of the kitchen. “Miss Cassandra, Master Tim Drake.”

Cassandra folded her arms and stared at Tim as he slowly turned around, holding a bottle of milk in one hand and a sandwich in the other. This was the great Robin? He didn’t look like much more then a weak, skinny kid!

And clumsy too, she thought to herself as she watched the glass milk bottle slip out of Tim’s left hand and crash to the floor. She rolled her eyes as Alfred rushed to grab a towel and clean up the mess.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”, Tim asked as he took a bite of his sandwich.

Cassandra reached over to the counter and picked up a sharp knife, holding it momentarily under Tim’s chin. Tim froze as she quickly swept the knife below his visual range. She smiled at him as she jammed the knife into a wood cutting board on the counter and took a bite out of half of a sandwich – she had cut away half of Tim’s snack!

Tim frowned and glanced at the knife in the cutting board. “My God, you’re just like Bruce! No wonder he chose you.”

“She’s nothing like me”, Bruce said as he walked into the room. He put his hand on Tim’s shoulder, and started steering him toward the doorway. “We need to talk. In my office.”

Cassandra sat down at the table and sighed as she watched Bruce and Tim leave the room.

Alfred sat down across the table. “Feel a little left out?”

Cassandra sighed again, louder this time.

“Miss Cassandra, perhaps if you made yourself heard, people would understand you better.”

Cassandra stared at Alfred for a minute or so. “Alfred?”

“Yes, Miss Cassandra?”

“Why am I here?”

“Be very careful around Cassandra.”

Tim made a face. “Why?”

“Because she’s unstable.”

Tim laughed. “So are you. Alfred and I are the only sane ones in this house.”

“I’m not kidding”, Bruce warned, “Her parents died in a fire. The same fire we rescued her from.”

“So?”

Bruce leaned closer to Tim, to make sure his voice wouldn’t leave that room. “I’ve been doing a little…investigating.”

“Investigating?”

Bruce took a deep breath. “Tim…She set that fire.”

Tim nearly dropped the rest of his sandwich as he peered around the corner at Cassandra. She was sitting at the kitchen table, calm as can be.

He looked up at Bruce. “But…But that means she…She belongs in Arkham…not here!”

Bruce sighed and walked over to his desk. “I know that as well as you do, Tim. But I also know she’s much better off here.”

“But Bruce”, Tim complained, “What if she…goes off? What if she decides to burn this place too? Or kill all of us?”

“Arkham can’t do anything for her”, Bruce said as he leaned against the desk. “In case you didn’t notice, only criminals come out of Arkham. Do you really want to see Cassandra as a criminal?”

Tim shuddered as he placed his sandwich on the edge of the desk. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “So you’re going to try to turn her into a hero?”

“No”, Bruce said, “We are going to turn her into a hero. She’s going to need both of us to support her. She’s very smart, and she seems to know the difference between right and wrong.”

Tim looked down at the floor. “Bruce, I don’t know if I can do that. I mean, out there we depend on each other. We trust each other. She doesn’t trust us, and we don’t trust her. See the problem?”

“Tim, I’ve taken her out on a couple of missions already”, Bruce said calmly, “She’s proven herself–”

“Bruce, you said yourself that she’s smart. What if she–”

Bruce’s expression turned angry. “She goes with us. End of discussion. I make the rules.”

“I can respect that”, Tim said, “But will she?”

Bruce sighed. “We’ll see, Tim.”

“Cassandra, do you remember being in a fire?”

Cassandra stared at Alfred for a second before nodding a ‘yes’.

“Do you remember how you survived the fire?”

She paused before she bowed her head silently. She couldn’t remember.

“You were rescued by Batman and Robin. But your parents didn’t survive.”

Cassandra closed her eyes to shut out memories of the fire that came back for a second. She wasn’t ready to remember yet. She looked at Alfred sadly – now she felt bad for frightening Tim, and for giving Bruce so much trouble.

“Batman brought you back to his cave, you were unconscious. I cleaned you up a little bit, and revived you–”

“No, stop!”, Cassandra whispered as she put her hands on her face. The rush of images and feelings were just too much for her at the moment. Thoughts were plaguing her, distant thoughts that she couldn’t decipher. They had to do with the fire – and for some reason, she didn’t want to know why.

“I’m sorry, Miss Cassandra. I meant only to help–”

Cassandra suddenly reached across the table and hugged Alfred tightly. “Thank you.”

Alfred smiled, and turned as Bruce entered the room with Tim. “I’m not the person you need to thank, Miss Cassandra.”

Cassandra stood up and walked over to Bruce. She looked up at his eyes. “Thank you, Bruce.”

Bruce looked at Alfred, who smiled and nodded at him. “You’re welcome, Cassandra.”

“So now she speaks”, Tim said as he suddenly appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

Cassandra didn’t respond. She just started staring at Tim intently as she walked back to the table and sat down. Her penetrating gaze didn’t waver for a second.

Tim looked back and forth around himself. “What?”

Cassandra just continued to stare. She knew it was unnerving to Tim – she meant it to be. She added a mischievous grin, just for good measure.

As he eyed a knife sitting on the table close to Cassandra, Tim slowly backed out of the kitchen. “I’ve gotta…go unpack.”

Bruce looked down at Cassandra as soon as Tim left the room. He seemed a little amused. “You drove him from the room just with a stare?”

Cassandra smiled.

Batgirl lunged forward as she watched four men back a van up to the bank and walk inside. Batman stopped her by grabbing her shoulder – he didn’t want her to go after them just yet. He was waiting for something. She knew that in time, she would develop the same instinct.

A second later, Batman aimed a cable launcher at the bank and fired, giving them both a cable to use to slide down to the top of the van. Now Batgirl understood why he was waiting – he wanted all of the robbers to go inside, so they wouldn’t hear Batman and herself land on top of the metal roof of the van. As Bruce often said, stealth was key to getting out of these situations alive.

Batman stood and stared silently through one of the upper windows of the bank. Batgirl knew immediately what he was trying to do – with the moonlight behind him, he was trying to cast his shadow into the bank, to spook the criminals inside. He wanted them to move away from the safe.

It worked. Only a second had passed before one of the criminals noticed the shadow. She knew at any second, Batman was going to crash through the window into the bank. She looked behind her and noted that Robin was staying back on the roof, although she didn’t know why.

Batgirl turned to look at Batman again. He hadn’t made a move yet. She wondered why, considering that the criminals were already running out the back door. She looked up at the building behind her again – Robin was gone. She started to see the unspoken plan in action.

The van Batgirl was standing on suddenly started up. She had just enough time to crouch down and center herself as it tore away. Batman was left behind, hanging by a cable he had just launched – he was heavier, and was no match for the inertia.

Her mind started racing as she realized that if she stayed on top of the van, she’d be killed very soon. She had to get the driver to stop. She slid down to the passenger side of the van, and slipped immediately through the open window. She did so silently. The driver didn’t even see her enter, until she punched him in the lower jaw with one hand, and jammed down the brake pedal with her foot. As soon as the van stopped she turned it off, and climbed out hands first over the unconscious driver. He was knocked unconscious when the van suddenly stopped – his head had hit the steering wheel, hard.

As soon as her hands touched the street, she spotted Batman fighting a huge man, who had tubes coming from his arms and connecting to the back of his head. She remembered him from one of the many news clipping’s in Batman’s cave – his name was Bane, he was South American, and…and those tubes were the source of his strength.

She pulled a small bat wing from her belt and silently unfolded it. Batman was seriously outmuscled by this guy, as long as the tubes were still attached. She only had one shot – once she threw the first bat wing, Bane would notice that she exists. If she missed, he would go after her with all of his drug-induced strength.

Batgirl bit her lip as she stood up slowly – the pressure was starting to get to her, and she couldn’t allow that. She started to tell herself not to think…just throw. She blinked once to clear her thoughts, and did just that. She smiled as she watched the bat wing clip the tubes on one of Bane’s arms, and the ones on his head, just as he lifted Batman up in the air. It was perfect.

Bane dropped Batman and began to howl in pain as he dropped to the ground, spilling white liquid all over – he sounded like he was dying. Batman was sprawled on the ground, motionless, a few feet away. He was unconscious. Batgirl looked at Bane, and then at Batman. She noticed that Batman was out cold, but appeared uninjured. Bane, however, was now in much worse shape – thick red liquid was following the white out of the plastic tubes. He had ruptured an artery, and he was bleeding out.

She remembered what Bruce kept telling her – maintaining secrecy was top priority. She would have to take Batman home and leave Bane to bleed to death. She looked around, trying to find a simple solution – and she found one. Across the street was a phone booth.

Batgirl raced across the street, snatched the handset out of the phone booth quickly, and dialed nine-one-one. She then tore the handset cord out of the phone and tossed the handset into the street. The cops hate it when you hang up on nine-one-one. She knew that would get them to come quickly.

She raced over to Batman, and kneeled down on one knee to pull his unconscious body over her shoulder. With her small frame, that was the only way she could possibly move Batman at all. As soon as she stood up with Batman over her shoulders, she could feel searing pain race down her spine. He was just a bit too heavy for her – she would have to move quickly, before she collapsed under his weight.

Batgirl could hear sirens approaching just as she dropped Batman into the passenger seat of the Batmobile. After she climbed into the driver’s side, and hit the button to close the canopy, she paused to look over the car’s controls. She had never driven the Batmobile before. Luckily, she’d stolen enough cars as a teen ager to know how to drive fairly well…And more importantly, get away from the police.

She smiled as she started up the car and revved the engine a little bit. Pure power. This was going to be the most exciting drive of her life. She reached over and buckled Batman’s seat belt just before her own, and put the car in gear. One little push on the accelerator sent the Batmobile tearing down the street. In a matter of seconds, she flew past the oncoming police cars at well over a hundred miles per hour. But that wasn’t fast enough for her to really show off – she pushed the car even more, running the speedometer past one fifty.

Minutes later, she was already on the narrow road through the forest leading up to the bat cave. She knew she was almost there when the car seemed to take control away from her suddenly – it was on some kind of autopilot. Any minute, they would be home safe.

“Geez, what happened to him?”

Barbara Gordon rolled herself up to Batman as soon as Alfred and Cassandra, still in her costume with the exception of the mask, managed to move Batman from the passenger seat of the Batmobile to a nearby work table. Even with Alfred’s help, Cassandra felt tendons in her shoulders and back straining as she moved Bruce.

Alfred pulled off Bruce’s mask. “He’s a little bruised, Miss Barbara. He should be just fine once he wakes up. I should go and make some tea–”

Barbara and Alfred turned suddenly at a loud crashing sound. It was Cassandra. She had thrown her mask at Bruce’s computer terminals, and she was now kicking the chairs in frustration. Alfred opened his mouth to say something – but Barbara stopped him by raising her hand in front of his mouth.

“Make that tea, Alfred. I’ll have a talk with Cassandra.”

As Alfred left the room, Cassandra watched Barbara roll toward her in her wheelchair. She heard every word Barbara and Alfred said.

“Cassandra, I have something I’d like to give you.” Barbara dug into a bag attached to the left side of the wheelchair, and pulled out a small yellow belt covered with pockets, and a bat logo on the clasp. “This was my belt, Cassandra. I want you to have it.”

Cassandra backed up against the console and waved both of her hands in front of her.

Barbara laughed. “I know, I know. You can’t take it, right? Well, as you can see, I won’t be using it for quite a while. It’s yours.”

Cassandra smiled and took the belt from Barbara slowly. She started examining the contents of each pocket. Smoke bombs, bat wings, flashlight…More equipment then her old one could ever carry. And yet it was so small, and light. She smiled at Barbara as she gently wrapped the belt around her waist and snapped it closed.

Barbara smiled and looked up at Cassandra. “Perfect fit, isn’t it?”

Cassandra shook her head yes and looked down at the belt again. It did fit perfectly. And it looked nice, too.

Barbara laughed and nudged Cassandra gently. “You know, for a girl who doesn’t talk, you sure have a lot to say.”

“Shaddup, ya little brat!”

Cassandra flinched at sound and volume of those words. They came from the mouth of her father, right after he’d been drinking heavily – and right before he became even more abusive.

She would have tried anything to calm him down, anything at all. She brought him food, beer, she tried staying out of his way. Her best attempts were futile at best – and at worst, it only made him more hateful and angry.

Her thoughts began to spin out of control as she remembered the various ‘punishments’ her father used against her. Throwing her in a scalding hot tub of water, burning her with a cigarette.

He seemed to like using fire a lot. Cassandra had that in mind as she lit a rolled-up newspaper and threw it onto the couch. Her father would learn what fire was really like. He would learn how it feels to have such a trusted friend turn against him and burn him. She glanced at the door to the master bedroom, which had a chair propped up against it, and smiled – her father would not escape his fate.

As the couch began burning, she knew deep down that from this moment further she would be known as a murderer. But murderer was better then victim. She knew someday her father would kill her, given enough time. She wasn’t going to give him that time.

And her mother? She was just as bad as he, constantly telling Cassandra that she was no good, that she was a burden on the family. And of course, Cassandra’s personal favorite…

“I don’t want you here.”

Cassandra scrambled off of her bed and raced to the door of her room as she heard a door slam and voices yelling in the hallway. She wanted to find out what was going on.

As she heard Tim Drake’s voice, she suddenly understood the slamming and yelling – she remembered that she left him behind to fend for himself when she rescued Bruce and drove him home. She felt a little guilty, but she knew she did the right thing.

“But she left me behind, Bruce! She jeopardized my secret identity–”

Cassandra opened the door a little bit to see Bruce and Tim standing right outside. Bruce looked calm and patient, but Tim looked very upset.

“Tim, she did what she had to do. I would have done the same.”

Tim sighed in frustration. “Face it, Bruce. She’s a loose cannon. She’s dangerous.”

Cassandra began silently fuming. She hated hearing people talk about her behind her back. Her parents did that.

“She’s no more a loose cannon then I am, Tim.”

“We have to depend on each other out there, Bruce. Bottom line – I can’t depend on her. I don’t want her there.”

That did it. Cassandra suddenly charged out of her room, leaping into the air just in time to crash feet first into Tim. She pinned him down with her body weight and one hand and reached back her other fist to punch him in the face.

The punch never landed. She turned around to see Bruce holding her wrist. He looked angry. She looked back down at Tim, and could see fear in his eyes – he didn’t know what she was going to do to him.

“Think, Cassandra.”

Bruce loosened his grip on her wrist slowly as she began lowering her hand and releasing her grip on Tim’s shirt. She knew what Bruce meant – she reacted on pure emotion, without thinking of the consequences. That didn’t mean much inside Wayne Manor, but out on the street it could mean the difference between life and death. She stood up slowly and offered her hand to Tim, to help him up. He stood up on his own, ignoring Cassandra’s outstretched arm. Just before Tim stormed away, he gave Cassandra an angry look.

Cassandra bowed her head in shame. She knew Bruce would be angry.

“This is about your parents, isn’t it?”

She looked up at Bruce, confirming that he was on to something.

“They rejected you. They hurt you. Told you that you were useless, not good enough. They didn’t want you around.”

Cassandra closed her eyes and looked down at the floor as a rush of emotion began to overcome her. She had to keep control, she had to…

“They abused you, didn’t they, Cassandra?”

As the feelings of hate, anger, and sadness toward her parents began to overwhelm her, Cassandra dropped to her knees and began sobbing. He tears dropped to the carpeted hallway floor as Bruce placed his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay. You’re safe here. You’re among friends.” Bruce kneeled down on the hallway floor next to her and hugged her tightly. “Everyone here loves you, Cassandra. Remember that.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Batman stood in front of Batgirl on the roof one of many apartment buildings in Gotham City. This apartment building was special, however – it contained a man who had been twice acquitted for child molestation. All of the neighbors knew what he was up to, but he always managed to slip away on a technicality, or because the children were afraid to testify.

Batgirl nodded a ‘yes’ to answer Batman’s question. She had but one word for men like that – coward. She hated anyone who was willing to abuse someone weaker.

“Keep control, remain objective”, Batman warned as he headed toward the door to the apartment building’s stairwell, “This one’s going to hit close to home for you.”

As soon as they stepped into the dark stairway, Batman turned to Batgirl to make sure she was following okay. Her costume lacked the night vision apparatus Batman’s had – but that seemed irrelevant as she navigated the stairway down to the eighth floor quickly.

Batman interpreted that as a good sign – she knew how to follow her instincts when her senses were impaired. That would prove to be a huge asset for her. He pointed at the entrance to the floor, indicating that Batgirl should go first.

Batgirl opened the door to the stairway, and found herself face to face with the man who was her target – and he had small five or six year old girl with him. She hesitated for a second, as she was a little shocked at what she saw – but that was all it took. The man shoved the little girl to the floor and breezed past Batgirl, racing up the stairway toward the roof.

Without the benefit of lighting, Batgirl removed a cable launcher from her belt and aimed straight up. In another split second, she was on her way to the roof. Batman was right behind her.

Batgirl rushed through the doorway to the roof quickly, right on the heels of the cowardly child molester. She chased him right to the edge of the roof, and grabbed the back of his jacket. The man immediately turned and took a swing at Batgirl – and missed. That just made her angrier. First he molests children, and now he’s trying to hit a woman!

She clenched her teeth as she fired her cable launcher at a nearby TV antenna, and quickly looped the other end around the man’s neck and arms. She smiled menacingly as she pushed him off of the edge of the roof, to leave him dangling, his air supply dwindling. Maybe now he would learn just how powerful a woman can be. Maybe he would think twice about abusing people from now on.

Batgirl turned around quickly, she could feel Batman’s breath on the back of her neck. He was standing behind her, admiring her work. The man was struggling with the cable, and trying to scream for help – but he could not, because his air supply was nearly cut off by the cable.

“He’s had enough. Pull him up.”

Batgirl folded her arms and shook her head ‘no’.

“Don’t tell me no. Pull him up, now!”

She shook her head again.

Batman grabbed the cable, and began to pull the man up quickly. He didn’t pay attention to the fact that Batgirl seemed annoyed that he was doing so. She didn’t want to give that coward a break. She wanted him to know fear – real fear – the kind the children he molested and abused most likely felt. Batgirl had enough of Batman giving the man a break. He didn’t deserve mercy. She grabbed Batman’s arm, and began squeezing to get him to release the cable.

“What are you doing?” Batman didn’t let go.

She quickly pulled a Batwing off of her new belt, and used it to slice the cable. She watched intently as the man fell, screaming, to his death on the sidewalk below. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to land on a parked car, where he would be seriously injured but not killed. But she forgot to account for the wind. A man just died for lack of a simple check of wind direction.

Batgirl was dazed by what she’d done. She didn’t even offer any resistance as she felt Batman grab her arm and pull her along. “We’re going home. Now.”

Bruce walked past Cassandra’s closed room on the way to his office. He could swear he heard her crying through the door. He longed to open the door, walk inside, and ask what happened. But he knew better. He knew she needed time to work through this on her own first. Killing a human being was not something to be taken lightly, or worked through quickly.

He stepped into his office, closed the door, and headed straight for his desk.

“Record.”

His computer’s voice recognition software beeped once softly to indicate that recording of today’s personal journal had begun.

“I wish I understood her better. I wish I knew what was going through Cassandra’s mind. Especially out there tonight. She took a life so…casually. And yet she was shocked to see what she had done…”

Bruce paused his recording a sighed as he pondered the view out his window for a moment.

“Could Tim be right? Could she be too dangerous? Does she belong in Arkham?”

He bit his lip as he decided to add one more phrase to the recording. One of what he felt, rather then what he thought. It needed to be said.

“I’m at a low point myself. I’ve always prided myself on being in control, knowing what’s going on. But with Cassandra, I’m at a loss. I don’t understand her any more then I understand myself–”

Bruce paused abruptly at the sound of those words. Understand himself. He continued.

“She’s too much like me. That’s just it. I have no problem understanding normal people. Criminals with patterns are easy. But she’s as unpredictable and uncontrollable as I am.”

He watched Alfred enter the room silently as he concluded his recording.

“She’s too much like me. She’s out of control. I’m afraid I might have to take her off the street. I’m afraid…I’m afraid of her.”

Bruce turned to Alfred as he turned off his computer. “Yes, Alfred?”

Alfred placed a small glass of water on Bruce’s desk. “I informed Master Drake that he is not to disturb Miss Cassandra.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“And if I may be so bold”, Alfred continued, “I do not believe you have given your best effort with Cassandra.”

Bruce leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”

Alfred smiled and stepped around the desk. “Master Bruce, you’re spending all of your time trying to understand her. To ‘get into her head’, so to speak.”

“And?”

Alfred turned to leave the room. “Might I suggest, Master Bruce, that you spend your time getting her to understand you?”

Bruce rubbed his chin and stared outside. “Thank you, Alfred.”

As Alfred left the room, Bruce began to think. He hoped Alfred was right, because he was out of ideas.

Cassandra looked up at Alfred with teary red eyes as he entered the room slowly with a dinner tray. “Miss Cassandra, I brought you dinner. I thought you might feel like dining alone tonight.”

She leapt off of the bed and pulled two chairs up to the small table in her room. She then pointed at one of them, and sat down in the other.

“You wish me to stay? I’ll be glad to offer you the company.” Alfred sat down in the other chair as Cassandra began eating slowly.

She looked up at Alfred, and caught him giving her a sympathetic look, like something was on his mind concerning her. “He’s taking it away, isn’t he?”

Alfred sighed. “Miss Cassandra…Master Bruce prides himself on understanding everyone he meets. Frankly, you confuse him. He’s not sure what to make of you.”

Cassandra sighed and put her chin on the table. “He hates me.”

“No, Miss Cassandra. Master Bruce doesn’t hate you. He badly wants you to succeed. But you have to want to succeed just as badly.”

As Alfred stood up with Cassandra’s dinner tray in hand, she jumped to her feet. “Alfred?”

“Yes, Miss Cassandra?”

Cassandra looked down at her feet, trying her best to keep her feelings in check. “Batgirl…it’s all I have.”

Alfred smiled sympathetically as he headed toward the door. “I’ll make sure to pass that along to Master Bruce, Miss Cassandra.”

Cassandra headed to the closet and took out her Batgirl costume just to look at it. It was all she had. The idea of life without Batgirl…It just seemed so…empty.

 

She stared at the discarded television set on the roof of an apartment building for a full ten seconds before she gave it a sideways kick to send it crashing into the alley below. It just made her feel better, to see something break. Scaring the homeless residents of the alley was just a bonus.

That’s what wearing the black costume and cape of Batgirl meant to her – scaring people. Batman told her many times it was a symbol of justice. She knew better. Batman worked outside of the law, and she knew it. When he selected her, he took into account that she was accustomed to doing so as well. If he only knew.

As Batgirl walked across the roof and glanced down at the street below, she reminded herself of a line she heard in the movie ‘Titanic’: “A woman’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets.” Secrets. She laughed to herself at the very idea of what most people kept from each other.

She squinted a little to confirm what seemed like a call to action. A man taking a woman’s purse on the street below. No witnesses, no one to help her as she called out for help. Batgirl removed a small device from her belt and sighed as her new life’s mission became clear once again – the job of Batgirl would be to prevent anyone else from feeling the pain she’s had to endure.

One second, and a lack of fear from gravity – that’s all it took to reach the ground. It was barely a second later before Batgirl’s hands dug deep into the exposed flesh of the arm on the would-be purse snatcher. The gasp from his mouth and a fearful wail told her that he realized he’d met his match. One punch was enough to put out his lights for a short while. That would be enough for now.

Batgirl frowned as she tugged on the end of the device to retract the cable, and head skyward. Cowards, that’s all they are. Men who prey on weaker women are all cowards. The only way they can find respect for themselves is to abuse someone smaller, and weaker.

“Nice job”, Batman said in a low tone as Batgirl reached the roof once again, “But very sloppy.”

She knew he was standing up there from the second she jumped off of the edge. It didn’t take much to detect when Batman was nearby. She just had to develop an…instinct. She’d just know he was there.

Batman leaned forward. “Would you like to know what you did wrong?”

Batgirl looked up at Batman defiantly, meeting his nearly hidden eyes with her own. “No. No, I want to learn on my own.”

Batman turned to walk away.

Batgirl looked down and shuffled one of her boots against the gravel on the roof. “Can…Can I come home now?”

“No”, Batman scolded, “You promised me four hours. You will give me four hours.”

With that, Batman stepped off of the roof and swung off into the distance.

Batgirl sighed as she looked up at the stars. Another beautiful night gone to waste.

Cassandra awoke to an incessant pounding on her bedroom door. She peeked at the digital clock on her nightstand with one eye – it was almost noon.

“Whaddaya want?”, she yelled at the door impatiently. The volume of her own voice made her head hurt.

“Miss Cassandra”, a slow, patient British voice announced on the other side of the door, “Lunch will be served in a half hour. Master Bruce was hoping you’d accompany him.”

Cassandra sighed and pulled her shoulder-length black hair behind her head as she sat up in bed. She looked over at the bathroom – it seemed like every single room in Bruce’s mansion has it’s own. She stared, hoping that somehow her intentions of getting up and heading to the bathroom would be enough to make it happen. Of course, it didn’t. She’d have to do it the hard way.

A half-hour later, Cassandra appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, in a black, oversized, long-sleeved shirt and jeans. Out of the entire, huge, Wayne mansion, Bruce and Alfred insisted on eating at the table in the kitchen. It was a large table all right, but it made Cassandra wonder just how many rooms in the place Bruce had never even seen. She made a mental note to herself to explore the rest of the mansion one day – a promise she made to herself nearly every day before Bruce’s grueling training regimen drained the hours away.

“Nice of you to join us, Cassandra.” Bruce’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Cassandra sat down at the table without a word, as Alfred stood up to server her lunch. It was a hamburger and french fries. She looked up at Alfred with sadness in her eyes. How could Bruce do this? Didn’t he know she didn’t like to eat red meat?

“It’s full of nutrients”, Bruce volunteered when he saw the look in Cassandra’s eyes, “You need nutrients to grow, and become strong.”

Her expression turned to a frown as she jumped up out of her chair and hurled her plate, followed by her knife, right at Bruce. Bruce ducked. She missed. Alfred watched her in surprise as she raced out of the kitchen, back toward her room.

Alfred turned to Bruce. “What have we learned from this, Master Bruce?”

Bruce stood up and stared at the steak knife embedded in the wall behind his seat. He pulled it out of the wall – a task that took both hands – and placed it on the table as he looked at Alfred. “This girl’s dangerous, Alfred. What am I going to do with her?”

Alfred smiled. “Master Bruce, she’s a lot like you, when you were young.”

“So what did you do?”

“Patience, Master Bruce”, Alfred lectured as he cleared the table, “She needs patience. Time.” He looked up at Bruce. “And most important of all – love.”

Alfred left the room carrying a plate as Bruce sat back down in his chair to ponder Alfred’s words. Love sounded easy – but for someone who was a virtually a stranger to it…

Cassandra’s heart was beating loudly, and her head ached as she watched the flames growing around her. Her entire room was on fire, and she had no desire to escape. The scent of burning flesh filled the house. It was both exhilarating and sickening at the same time.

And the screams. The glorious screams of her parents. They were learning the price of abuse. The tool of their torture had turned against them.

Cassandra closed her eyes as she remembered her father laughing after setting her clothing on fire. He laughed as she rushed to remove her sweater quickly, as she ran to the bathroom, crying, trying to remove the fire’s sting from her arms.

She took another look around her room, and backed up against her window as the fire began licking at her hair and feet. She was scared now, scared of what would happen. Tears began to flow from her eyes.

Cassandra closed her eyes and whispered to herself as she could feel the fire closing in. “Please, God, forgive me. Please. I don’t want to die.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Miss Cassandra, it’s Alfred”, a voice at the other end of her bedroom door said, “I have some soup for you.”

Cassadra sighed and tried to wipe the tears away quickly with her sleeve as Alfred entered the room slowly with a bowl of soup and a tray.

Alfred placed the tray next to Cassandra’s bed and paused for a few seconds. Cassandra just stared back at him.

“Miss Cassandra, it is customary to say ‘thank you’ to someone who brings you dinner.”

Cassandra smiled shyly and looked down at her vegetable soup.

Alfred smiled and sat down on the bed next to her. “You have a beautiful, soft voice, Miss Cassandra. I sincerely hope I get to hear more of it.”

She tried and failed to stifle a small giggle as she took a spoonful of the soup.

“Master Bruce would like to apologize for his inconsiderate behavior, Miss Cassandra.”

Cassandra’s eyes met Alfred’s as she held her bowl out to him. She had eaten all of the soup.

“Would you like more soup, Miss Cassandra?”

She smiled.

“The first bowl was a favor, Miss Cassandra. If you want more, you’ll have to follow me to the kitchen. Who knows, there may also be freshly baked chocolate chip cookies present.”

Cassandra nearly ran over Alfred as she leaped from the bed and raced toward the kitchen. Alfred laughed and shook his head.

“You’re spoiling her”, Bruce said as he stepped into the room from the hallway, “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“Master Bruce”, Alfred said as he stood up and straightened himself, “Coaxing Cassandra is hard enough without your rules. Perhaps you should consider allowing her a little more leeway.”

Bruce sighed. “I suppose you’re right, Alfred. I just wish I could have a normal conversation with her.”

Alfred lifted the tray and soup bowl and turned toward Bruce as he left the room. “You won’t know until you try, Master Bruce.”

Adrenaline rushed through Batgirl’s body as she ran through head-on Gotham City traffic, chasing after one of four perpetrators of a gang beating of a young boy. As she dodged the fast-moving cars and ignored pedestrians as they pointed and gasped at her running past, she ripped a cable launcher from her belt and aimed it with perfect accuracy. She aimed it right at the perpetrator, rather then a little to the side, as Batman had trained her to do.

The man’s scream echoed down the whole street as the small retracting hook at the end of the cable pierced the flesh of his shoulder and then expanded. Batgirl smiled – her fish had been caught. She began pulling him toward her using the cable, as if she were reeling in a large bass. The man howled in pain as he slid backwards against the pavement of the street, cars whizzing by. A trail of blood marked his excruciating journey.

“Help me! Help me please! No! God, no!”

The man continued screaming as Batgirl kneeled over him, and pushed one gloved hand against his throat, her other hand drawn back into a fist. A smile creeped onto her face as she watched pure fear in the man’s eyes – the fear of death. But he didn’t know fear as she did. He didn’t know death.

“Leave him. Now.”

Batgirl felt someone grab her elbow to prevent her from lowering her fist. She knew it was Batman. She knew. And yet somehow she instinctively swept her leg in a circle to take his legs out from under him, causing him to fall to the ground. It was a futile move – it only took him an instant to stand back up again.

“No more games”, Batman said as he removed a cable launcher from his belt. He aimed it at a nearby building, and grabbed Batgirl’s arm as the cable took hold. “We’re going.”

Five seconds later, Batgirl landed feet-first on the roof of a nearby building, with Batman close behind. On the street below, she could hear sirens approaching. She leaned over the side of the building to see what was going on.

The man was laying on the street, with a pool of blood surrounding him. Paramedics were standing over him, hooking tubes and sensors up to his body. Batgirl began to feel a little sorry for him. What if he wasn’t such a bad guy? Did he really deserve to have a cable claw planted in his shoulder?

“He’ll survive.” Batman stood behind Batgirl as if he were a much larger shadow of hers. To most people, his imposing figure looming from behind would be frightening – but Batgirl knew it was just his way.

“Can we go home?”, she whispered, as she looked down at the gravel roof. Even though she was feeling sick with sadness, she was positive he would say no.

Batman paused for a few seconds before giving an answer. “Let’s go.”

Cassandra gave Batman a very specific look as she removed her mask in the Bat Cave – she knew she screwed up that last mission. She also knew that Bruce required her to store her costume in her own room’s safe, to encourage her to keep it in good condition. She removed her mask anyhow, as she believed she could connect easier with Bruce if he could see her eyes.

She picked up a jump rope in one hand, and sparring gloves in the other. She knew very well that Bruce usually accelerated training whenever she lost control on the street. He always told her it was a great way to burn off frustration.

“Not now”, Bruce said as he took the training tools away from her and turned one of the rotating chairs next to his computer center toward her. “Have a seat.”

Cassandra sat down slowly, feeling a little suspicious. Bruce was acting strange, and unpredictable. She wondered if it had something to do with Alfred’s earlier talk with him.

“Cassandra, I feel that you know exactly what you did wrong”, Bruce said as he leaned back in his chair, “What I’d like to know is…Why?”

She shrugged and looked down at the floor. Bruce reached out and placed his hand under her chin, raising her eyes to the level of his.

“You talk when you want to, Cassandra. I just want to help you. Give me a hand.”

“I…”

“Alfred had a talk with me this morning. He’s partially right, Cassandra. The key to a partnership is communication, not chain of command.”

“I…”

“Go on, Cassandra. I’m listening.”

Cassandra closed her eyes as a sudden rush of emotion sent tears streaming down her face. She bowed her head slightly as Bruce released his hand from her chin. She bowed her head in shame. “I’m sorry.”

Bruce leaned forward and held Cassandra’s head against his shoulder as her streams of tears quickly turned to a flood. She was clearly in pain, and he couldn’t help her. All he could do for the moment was offer her a shoulder.

“I hope she’s not what you had in mind for the next Robin.”

Cassandra opened her eyes to see an older gentleman with a British accent leaning over her, applying alcohol to her forehead. She tried to sit up, but was met with resistance from his white gloved hand.

“She’s awake Master Bruce.”

Her mind filled with panic as she came up with the only reasonable explanation for what was happening to her. She’d been kidnapped. Cassandra pushed Alfred away hard with her knee, and slid off of the gurney she woke up on. She grabbed the only tool she could reach – a pair of scissors – with one hand, and backed quickly into a corner. Then she froze.

She had no idea where she was – it was surely something she would never have expected to see. She was in a cave, which had been filled with high-tech gear she’d never seen before. She wasn’t sure how, but she recognized the car she spotted in one corner – it was Batman’s.

An older man, although younger then the British gentleman, stepped a few feet away from her and looked at her calmly. “What’s your name?”

It took her a few seconds to recognize who it was – Bruce Wayne. She’d seen him many times in the newspaper as well. But why did Bruce Wayne have Batman’s car? And what was he doing in a cave? He questions were answered quickly as she glanced at the other end of the cave – it was Batman’s costume, sitting inside an open-doored steel safe.

“Are you okay, madame?”, the old, British gentleman asked. “My name is Alfred. What’s yours.”

“Ca…Cassandra.”

Bruce walked closer to her. “We’re not going to hurt you. We want your help.”

Cassandra backed closer into the corner. Bruce reached out and tried to grab the scissors, only to be met with a sideways kick in the stomach from Cassandra. She rolled away from him, and raced across the cave – only she couldn’t seem to find an exit. She was trapped.

Alfred smiled as Bruce stood up slowly and balled his hand into a fist to stop the bleeding from a cut caused by the scissors. “Master Bruce, I believe you’ve met your match.”

“Alfred, a little help?”

Alfred smiled again as he walked toward Cassandra. “Would you like something to eat, Miss Cassandra?”

Cassandra smiled shyly and stood up. She hadn’t eaten since…Well, she couldn’t remember.

“This way, madam”, Alfred said as he walked toward the hidden exit.

Cassandra followed him carefully. Her pangs of hunger didn’t diminish her wariness all that much. She still had no idea what these two had in store for her.

Alfred stopped in front of the entrance to the kitchen and turned to Cassandra. “There is someone I would like you to meet, Cassandra. She’s eager to meet you as well.”

Cassandra stepped through the doorway into the kitchen slowly. She immediately spotted a red-haired woman sitting in a wheelchair. The woman smiled and turned her wheelchair toward the doorway.

Alfred stepped through the doorway. “I’d like to present Barbara Gordon.”

“Otherwise known as the former Batgirl”, Barbara added as she held out her hand, “Please excuse me if I don’t get up.”

Cassandra stepped forward slowly and shook Barbara’s hand.

Barbara indicated toward one of the empty chairs. “Please, have a seat. Eat something.”

As Barbara talked and Cassandra ate, Alfred slipped out into the hallway to talk to Bruce.

“Do you think she’ll do, Alfred?”

Alfred looked down at Bruce’s hand, which was now wrapped in gauze. “I think she’ll exceed your best expectations, Master Bruce.”

Batgirl glanced up through the clear sky, the wind blowing through her cape. It was a full moon – and likely the city would be full of more crazies then usual. She was about to follow Batman to nab the craziest one of them all – The Joker.

A chill ran through her with the wind, as she glanced down at the city from her perch high atop a dark building. She remembered the words of Barbara Gordon, what she said about The Joker. Barbara’s description of The Joker, and what he did to her. It made Batgirl both angry and afraid.

Batman placed one hand on her shoulder gently. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Batgirl turned her head back to look at Batman, to give him a look of approval. In all truth, she wasn’t sure she was ready. But she had to try – for Barbara…for herself.

Batman removed his hand from her shoulder as he spotted a purple ragtop convertible which had just stopped in front of the building across the street. “We’re going to need everything you have tonight, Cassandra. And then we’re going to need more.”

With a nod from Batgirl, Batman leaped off of the top of the building, using the air resistance from his cape to slow him down. Batgirl waited a few seconds, and then did the same. Adrenaline filled her, and her heart began to beat faster as she descended toward the street. That’s when she spotted him – the man in the purple jacket and hat. He exited his car and walked into the building, seemingly oblivious to the presence of Batman or Batgirl.

He was anything but oblivious. As soon as Batman hit the ground, half a dozen men in purple jackets stepped out of the shadows and opened fire with machine guns. Batman’s Kevlar armor would have no problem stopping the bullets – but Batgirl knew her simple leather costume would not. She would have to use stealth to her advantage.

Batgirl tore through the canvas top of the convertible and dove below the front seat. It was only a matter of seconds before she managed to find the ignition wires. It was time to do some street cleaning.

She sat up on the seat, and threw the car in reverse. The two men she ran down first were so busy firing at Batman, they had no idea what hit them. The third and fourth realized they were about to be run over, but it was too late for them to do much before the car plowed into them, and smashed head-on into the alley wall. There were still two gunmen left, but the car had been destroyed. At least she knew that The Joker no longer had a getaway car.

Batgirl slid out of the car window, and landed hands-first on the pavement before rolling to her feet. As she did, she whipped a batarang from her belt and wheeled around quickly, daring anyone to try and move. But everything was silent. Batman had already disarmed the last two men, and he was heading into the building through the second floor – he meant to catch them by surprise.

She followed his lead, using the car as a boost to crash through a second-floor window. Unfortunately, Batgirl misjudged how weak the floor was on the second story of that dilapidated building. She crashed right through it, landing on top of someone on the first floor – and that someone was The Joker.

Batgirl reacted quickly, to avoid giving him any chance of escape. She pressed one hand against his throat, and sat with both of her legs on top of his chest, to maximize the amount of her weight pressing down on him. She quickly remembered an important fact from one of Bruce’s briefings on The Joker, and ripped the flower from the lapel of his jacket – no acid would be burning her today.

The whole maneuver was perfectly executed. The Joker would be in custody in seconds, as soon as Batman arrived with his handcuffs. As a large shadow loomed behind her, she smiled to herself – Batman had arrived. It was almost time to go home.

As her vision blacked out momentarily from the impact of a large object on the back of her head, she realized her mistake. In her eagerness to nab The Joker, she forgot to take a look around the room and make sure none of The Joker’s henchmen were there. She just assumed they were all outside.

Her vision returned just in time for her to see a large man holding a wooden chair above her head. She rolled out of the way quickly, missing the impact from the chair, and jumped to her feet almost instantly, ready for battle. Only there was no one to fight. Batman rendered the man unconscious before she stood up.

She looked down at the ground – and to her horror, The Joker was gone. He vanished again. She clenched her fists in anger. She was furious at herself for allowing him to slip away. She felt Batman’s hand on her shoulder – she pushed it off. She didn’t want to be consoled.

Batgirl walked outside, and fired a cable launcher at the top of the building across the street. The sooner she made it to the serenity of the rooftops of Gotham, the better. It only took her a second to achieve that.

“Cassandra.” Batman only took another second to arrive on the roof.

Batgirl held her hand out behind her, to try and discourage Batman from saying any more. The last thing she wanted to hear was Batman telling her exactly what she did wrong. Again.

“You did a great job, Cassandra. I’m proud of you.”

Cassandra smiled, as Batman looked down into a neighboring alley toward the Batmobile. “Let’s go.”