Cassandra tapped a finger on a steel post as she waited impatiently for her turn. She felt like cattle as she waited in a lane marked by a velvet rope and steel poles much like the one she tapped on, staring at a sign which read ‘Wait here for next teller’. She was next, but it would apparently be a long wait – the man ahead of her asked for something beyond the abilities of the average bank teller, meaning the manager had to be called.

She began to feel a little conspicuous as she stood in line in her black long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. Everyone else in the bank, the customer in front of her included, wore dark suits and formal wear. Sighing to herself, she wondered why Bruce sent her to the bank – it was just…strange for her to be standing there, thousands of dollars in cash to be deposited encased in a small leather pouch dangling almost carelessly from her left hand.

If anything, she guessed, it was an excersize in trust. Bruce simply handed her the pouch without hesitation, and sent her to the bank – totally secure in the knowledge that she would indeed be able to take it there with almost no risk to herself or the cash. He knew that no one would be able to successfully take it from her by force.

As she leaned against the steel pole, using her foot against the base for leverage, she felt both confident and bored. Bruce gave her an easy task, one that would take no effort to complete – once the man in front of her left – but she also felt that she had been given a task which fell short of her abilities.

Cassandra suddenly felt the heat of anger fill her as she watched a man in jeans and a dark jacket walk right past her, cutting ahead of her in line. She was just about to protest…but something didn’t feel right. He was much too focused as he approached the counter, not bored as she was. It seemed like he had a specific task in mind. She was a little surprised when she realized that none of the bank’s employees seemed to notice.

The man in the jacket walked straight up to the counter, whispering something to the teller softly as he hovered his hand over one of the jacket pockets. The teller turned pale, and the customer she worked with took a couple of steps back. It was a robbery.

Cassandra knew that something was seriously wrong by now – but she decided to remain casual, and pretend to be ignorant of what was happening. She continued leaning back against the pole as she eyed the pocket the man indicated to a moment earlier – it seemed weighted, as if there were something heavy in there…possibly a gun.

The customer wearing the suit was slinking toward the exit – a bad move when someone was attempting to rob the bank. The teller made the mistake of raising her eyes to look at the man as she loaded the cash from her drawer into a bag the robber brought with him. The robber quickly drew his gun, pointing it at the man trying to make a slow but sure exit.

He ran for the door once he saw the gun, another stupid move. Cassandra flinched as the ear-shattering sound of the robber’s gun firing echoed through the mostly silent bank. He missed – glass shards began crashing to the floor from one of the large outside windows as it collapsed from the impact of the bullet.

The suited man almost made it. He could have raced to his car, driven far away, and forgot about the robbery – and the robber would never have hit him with such horrible aim. But instead, he panicked as he watched the glass shatter next to him, and slowly shuffled back into the bank, hands raised.

“On your knees”, the robber ordered. He looked at Cassandra, who simply gave him a hollow look. He turned away from her, thinking her not to be any threat to his plans. He snatched the bag of cash, and turned toward the exit, suddenly pausing as he noticed Cassandra now standing in front of him silently.

“Out of my way”, he growled.

Cassandra smiled softly as she took two slow steps back. As the robber approached her, prepared to shove her aside, he found his feet tangled on one of her sneakers – and promptly fell flat on his face, dropping the gun to the floor next to him.

He rose quickly, anger rising within him as he heard the teller and suit-wearing customer snickering. He reached for his gun…but it was gone – and standing several feet away was the young woman who tripped him, casually holding the gun at her side. “Give me that, kid.”

Cassandra’s condescending laugh only made things worse. The man stood on his feet, and started walking toward her quickly.

“I’m going to take that gun, and then I’m going to shoot you.”

As he started walking toward her more quickly, she began backing away until she reached the glass wall of the bank. There was nowhere else to go. She slowly raised the gun, pointing it toward him as a warning. She really didn’t want to fight him, and risk giving herself away.

He laughed at the sight of her raising the gun, lunging at her for his own amusement. “What are you going to do, shoot me?”

As Cassandra watched the man’s amused expression, she imagined him reaching out to grab her by the throat, and shake her. She felt so small, so fragile as he yelled at her with enough alcohol on his bad smelling breath to intoxicate her. He shook her, and shook her…then carried her to her room to seal her in, as if it were a vault, for what would seem like days. Alone.

No more.

The sound of a gun firing once again filled the near silent bank. In front of Cassandra stood a man devoid of his formerly jovial mood. Blood streamed from the center of his chest, tricking down like a thick, red waterfall to the floor. His eyes registered surprise at being beaten by her…then fear as he felt the pain of his life slipping away.

He suddenly collapsed to the floor as silence once again filled the bank. Then a loud clack as the gun slipped from Cassandra’s hand to a spot next to the man’s head, followed by the leather pouch she held in her other hand. She looked at the teller and the customer who was in the bank – they both stared at her in shock.

“Oh my God”, Cassandra whispered softly. She had the strongest urge to run from the bank…to run away, never to be seen again by anyone. But she couldn’t – part of her new life was a new level of responsibility. It was something she hated, but she could no longer escape. She would face her fears, and be a better person for it…or so she hoped.

“What do you think?”

Barbara Gordon dismissed the question from Tim as she sat in her wheelchair in the doorway of what was once an entrance between a hallway and a room in someone’s home. Cassandra’s home, to be exact, before a fire reduced all of the walls and floors to ash.

The room was empty, covered in soot. But the one thing that made it unique was the window, which Tim, as Robin, broke while helping Batman rescue Cassandra from the fire.

The house had been boarded up and placed on the market for sale long ago. Its interior remained a time capsule, a window into a moment in time which remained a mystery to all but its sole survivor…Cassandra.

“I think this place could use a coat of paint.” Barbara smiled as she noticed Tim frown in response. She could tell he was trained by Bruce – always dead serious when investigating something.

“No, I meant–”

Ignoring Tim again, Barbara began tracing small lines etched into the darkened ceiling above. She remembered that the lines were layers of soot deposited by the flames, and would lead to their source. It would be an excellent way to estimate where the original fire was set.

She suddenly paused as the etch marks ran down a wall inside another bedroom. They all seemed to point to one corner…where a hole had burned through the carpeting and the underlying hardwood floorboards. She glanced around the room, noticing a bathroom off of the back corner. This was the master bedroom.

Barbara closed her eyes, trying to imagine a queen sized bed under the blinds-covered window opposite the door, and furniture lining the walls. The only source of light was from an alarm clock next to the left side of the bed.

A young woman stepped through the doorway, her path lit by flame. In her hand, a home-made torch of wood, cloth, and gasoline. Her angry frown lit from below by an orange-red flickering glow, and her eyes show pain from years of either abuse or neglect…as well as a certain sadness. Her life as she knows it was about to come to an end…and she was willing, if only to put an end to theirs as well.

The young woman eyed the bed, making sure that the two adults peacefully sleeping didn’t see her. There would be no escape once the fire began spreading. She dropped the torch to the floor, right next to the doorway, walking backwards slowly as she watched the flames spread. Burn. Burn, and never harm anyone again.

Barbara cringed as she opened her eyes suddenly. It was helpful to try and think like the suspect, but it was sometimes frightening as well. She looked down at her hands as she tried to calm herself – they were shaking. She could still feel the young woman’s anger.

“You okay, Barbara?”

“I was just daydreaming.” She smiled and nodded at Tim as she backed her wheelchair into the hallway and headed back toward Cassandra’s former bedroom. “Once the fire was set, she ran this way. This carpet started to burn quickly, so she probably barely made it to her room…and slammed the door shut behind her.”

Barbara rolled into the room and spun around to face Tim. “She was in here, scared…as smoke started to pour in around the doorway. She was next to the window because–”

“–Her bed was here”, Tim interrupted. I remember. It was right next to the window, and it was starting to burn. It flared up when I broke the window.”

“Hmm.” Barbara rolled over to the window to look at the window frame. It had nails in it. “It looks like she couldn’t get out. Her parents must have nailed all of the windows shut…which is why they didn’t escape, either.”

“Or maybe she did.”

“No.” Barbara shook her head as she spun around again. “She didn’t plan this. It doesn’t fit. This was a spur of the moment thing, probably right after she’d been punished somehow…”

“–yes, punished, young lady!” A tall man towered over a young, dark haired teenager. She looked at the floor, carefully avoiding his gaze.

Minutes earlier, the police had come knocking at the door. They were pulling the teen closely behind them in handcuffs. They calmly explained that she had been caught inside the a fenced-in garden at the park. She didn’t resist when they attempted to remove her…which is why they took her home instead of arresting her.

“But…I just went in to take some litter that–”

“I don’t want to hear your whiny excuses, Cassandra!” The tall man snatched a handful of her hair, pulling her down the hallway toward her bedroom. She could smell the alcohol on his breath…again…as he kicked open the door and threw her clear across the room, face first onto the bed.

She looked up to see a wild, crazed look in his eyes as he began shaking his index finger at her, his entire body trembling with anger. He reached for a heavy book sitting on a chest next to the doorway – a large bible – and threw it at her as hard as he could. She ducked, and cringed as it hit the top of her head faster then she could avoid it.

“You must repent, Cassandra! You must pray now, before your sins doom this entire family to the fires of hell!” He walked closer to Cassandra, angrily yanking the bible off of her bed and opening it to a bookmarked page. “You will be consumed in the eternal flames, Cassandra! Is that what you want? Huh?”

“Yes.” Cassandra gave her father a devilish smile as she slowly rose to her feet atop the bed. She watched him switch from anger to horror as she took the bible from his hands and threw it into the hallway.

As he began backing toward the door, she stared at him steadily, keeping her smile as she walked toward him. “I want the fires. I want them to burn us all.”

“…And then he must have slapped her or something. Or maybe locked her in the room…I can’t be sure. All I know is, there was a burned out bible still lying in the hallway.”

Bruce rubbed his chin slowly as he sat in his office chair, watching Barbara Gordon lean against one arm of her wheelchair as he considered the scenario that she came up with. Tim sat backwards in one of the office’s guest chairs, looking from Bruce to Barbara and then back, but remaining silent.

“I find it hard to understand how she can kill her parents simply because they weren’t caring enough.” Bruce stood and paced around the room once before finally leaning against his desk. “There has to be another ingredient in this.”

“There is.” Barbara rolled closer to Bruce’s desk, prompting Tim to lean in closer as well. “I don’t think she tried to kill them. I think she just wanted to scare them.”

Bruce nodded. “Go on.”

“You see, Cassandra has this fascination for danger, and dangerous things. She plays with fire, defies gravity, and takes on deadly criminals without much thought.”

“And she’s good at it, too”, Tim interrupted. He shrugged and placed his chin on the back of the chair when Bruce and Barbara stared at him.

“Tim has a point”, Barbara continued, “She is good at it. And that gives her power over those who fear the danger she toys with. I think she meant to scare her parents with a little fire and brimstone of her own…but it got out of control.”

“So she’s seriously disturbed”, Tim interrupted again, “But only dangerous to people who fear her?”

Barbara smiled and looked at Bruce. Just as she guessed, he seemed entertained by that idea – it made her just a little more like him. “In a way, yes. But she also needs to learn that the dangers she toys with can hurt her, as well. I don’t want to wait until tragety strikes for her to understand that.”

“She has already injured herself on several occasions.” Bruce returned to his desk chair and leaned back. “Yet it doesn’t even slow her down. She’s still extremely reckless. It’s putting both of us in danger.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Tim sat up and stared coldly at Bruce. He took Bruce’s comments a little personally. “Cassandra did everything she could to protect me on that last mission, Bruce. She wanted me to return home safely. She made sure I would. Cassandra only puts herself in danger.”

“Then tell me, Tim”, Bruce said in a low voice, without even reacting to Tim’s stare, “Why did she go back into a burning building?”

“Because she wanted to make sure you were all right, Bruce.” Tim stood and shoved the chair aside, stepping forward to lean on Bruce’s desk. “She cares about you, like it or not. She doesn’t want you or anyone else hurt.”

“Explain to me then, Tim–” Bruce leaned forward on his desk, his eyes glossing over with his cold, Batman persona. “How our compassionate Cassandra beat a man to death with her bare hands.”

Tim angrily tore a small halogen lamp off of Bruce’s desk, and hurled it across the room hard enough for it to smash against the wood-paneled wall. He stormed all the way to the door, hand perched on its edge, prepared to slam it shut behind him. “Cassandra killed to protect me! Or maybe you would prefer if I was dead…so you can be right once again!”

Barbara cringed at the sound of the office door slamming hard enough to pressurize the air in the room for a moment. She gave Bruce a look of pity as he sighed and leaned back in his chair again. She knew that he prized control over all else – something that he was losing rapidly. But control was always an illusion – her wheelchair was a daily reminder of that.

“Bruce…you have to admit, the two of them made an excellent team. They improvised, and made it through that last mission without a single scratch.”

Barbara rolled closer to Bruce’s desk, noting that he seemed a little sad. It meant that she was getting through to him. “And it was a rough mission. You and I both know that. They went in blind, and came out intact.”

“I know that, Barbara…And I do appreciate it.” Bruce took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. His office was getting darker, it was almost time to go to the Bat Cave. “I just worry about Cassandra. She’s not Supergirl…she can’t afford to be so protective.”

“When I first hit the streets, Bruce, I didn’t know my limits. So I was always cautious. And you know what?” Barbara quickly lifted herself out of her wheelchair with her arms and slid onto Bruce’s desk. She looked a little sad as she leaned across the desk to face Bruce. “It took confinement to a wheelchair for me to learn my limits.”

“I want Cassandra to learn her limits on her own”, Barbara continued as she turned away from Bruce. Her eyes were beginning to tear. “So she’ll never end up…like me.”

Cassandra silently closed the door to Bruce’s office as she watched him hand a tissue to Barbara. Not another word was spoken in the office, even as Cassandra turned and headed back toward her room. She would have left her listening spot behind the office’s door on her own eventually…but as she watched Bruce quietly hand Barbara that tissue, it suddenly didn’t seem appropriate to spy on the conversation any longer.

She paused suddenly along the way back to her room as she spotted Tim, sitting on a bench, leaned forward and staring out of one of the giant hallway windows at the pouring rain outside. He didn’t look happy, either.

“Hey.” Cassandra sat sideways on the bench, facing Tim. He didn’t respond. “I love rain.”

“Cassandra…do you enjoy killing?”

She laughed at first, thinking that Tim was joking. But then she frowned as she realized from his steady stare that he was absolutely serious. “N-No.”

“Frankly–” Tim turned away from her again, bowing his head as he looked out the window. “After what happened on that last mission…I watched you beat a man to death, Cassandra. It was one of the most painful things I’ve seen in my life. I’m…a little afraid of you, of what you’re becoming. But I’m also afraid for you. I can see Bruce killing, but for you…it just seems…wrong.”

“I’m sorry.” Cassandra continued looking straight at Tim as she spoke, exhibiting confidence…yet her eyes betrayed the feelings trapped behind them as her memory rushed back to the image of blood covering her gloved hands and costume. She visibly cringed as she remembered the feeling of panic when she saw the man’s body grow still in her hands. “I…I’m afraid too.”

“You’re afraid you’ll kill someone?”

A slow nod from Cassandra caused Tim to place one hand on her shoulder. She bowed her head and looked away from him, as if she were confessing to him a crime of weakness. Bruce disliked weaknesses – she assumed that his protegee would be the same way.

But she guessed wrong. Tim reached out and placed his other hand under her chin, turning her head to face him. His eyes looked serious as she stared into them. “I am too, Cassandra. It’s not unusual to be afraid of killing someone in this line of work. Even cops are afraid of that.”

“No. It’s…different.” Cassandra slid to the other end of the bench, away from Tim and took a deep breath as she looked away again. “I…lost control. I was angry, I just kept hitting him. He begged, but I didn’t hear.”

Tim opened his mouth for a moment to say something – but he couldn’t put together the words to respond. His eyes registered surprise as his memory recalled what he had seen in the lobby. The foreign assassin did indeed beg for his life. And Cassandra did keep hitting him…until he died.

“The good news, Cassandra–“, Tim said slowly, “Is that you know what happened. If you understand what happened, you can fix it.”

Cassandra was giving Tim only half her attention. The rest was focused on the fact that the sun had set, and darkness was about to descend on Gotham City. She nodded once to acknowledge that she heard what Tim said, and stood up slowly, offering a hand to Tim. “It’s time.”

“Excuse me?” A woman sitting on a bench in a Gotham City park looked up from her book momentarily to see who stood in front of her. She gasped out loud as she realized who it was – pasty white face, green hair, and purple jacket…

“I asked you, madam, if you had the time.” Joker leaned closer to the woman, hands behind his back. “You see, my watch seems to have come unwound.”

To punctuate his words, Joker’s watch suddenly blew apart, sending random metallic springs in the woman’s direction. She screamed and dropped her book before falling off of the bench, and then running as fast as she could across the park. Joker laughed to himself and shook his head. “I don’t understand. Who can resist a spring through the park?”

Joker began laughing out loud, as two men in purple jump suits approached him from behind, doing their best to humor him with laughs of their own as they carried two large steel boxes by their top-mounted handles to spots next to the bench. They quickly opened the boxes, and began removing metal and plastic parts.

“What’s this, boss?” One of the two finally had the courage to pipe up. Considering that Joker had just hired them off the streets an hour earlier, it was a brave gesture. “Looks like a satellite dish. We watching TV?”

The second man cringed as the crack of a gun going off broke the silence in the park. The first man collapsed, a red stain forming on his purple jump suit. A hole was left through both the front and back of his clothing…and Joker began laughing.

“Ask a stupid question.” Joker laughed as he blew on the smoke trail drifting out of the revolver he held in his hand.

“You…You killed him”, the second man stuttered.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Joker leveled the gun at the second man’s head, laughter quickly breaking through the mock sympathy in his voice, the man began to tremble in fear. “You two were a matching pair, weren’t you?”

The words ‘Please, no!’ drifted skyward into the darkness, just before another loud crack tore through the park. As the second man lay on the ground, his head shattered into several pieces by the overly-powerful ammunition Joker insisted on using, Joker simply left the boxes behind and began walking down the street, humming a happy tune to himself.

“Working late?” The lobby security guard at the headquarters of Wayne Enterprises nodded at a man in a suit, hat, gloves, and overcoat. He didn’t recognize the man, but since he wore an expensive suit, and was leaving the building, he couldn’t be much trouble. Though it did bother him a little that he couldn’t see the man’s face – his collar was turned up. “Sign out, please.”

The man approached the desk in the lobby, snatching the pen almost angrily from the guard’s hand and scribbling something in the log book. Without a word, he dropped the pen onto the desk, turning to leave quickly.

“Robert, huh? Mind telling me where you work?”

He turned around slowly and dug in the pocket of his overcoat for a moment, pulling out a shiny silver colored object, shoving it in the security guard’s face. “I’m a police officer. I’m looking for a young woman named Cassandra. She came here with Bruce Wayne a few times. Where does she live?”

The security guard narrowed his eyes. He was starting to become a little suspicious. “Police officer? Let me see some I.D.”

Robert slipped a business card out of the pocket of his overcoat and handed it to the security guard. It said ‘Det. Robert James.’ “Call my supervisor. He knows who I am.”

“At this time of the night? No one will be there.” The security guard sat down and looked at the log book again. “Look…this Cassandra you’re looking for is a close personal friend of Mr. Wayne’s. You can’t just walk in here and ask where she lives.”

The security guard suddenly screamed in pain as Robert grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head against the desk twice. “You will tell me…or you will die. Do you understand? You have a family, right?”

The security guard nodded quickly as Robert produced an automatic pistol and jammed it under his nose. He closed his eyes and began sobbing, and begging incoherently for his life. “Please…I–”

“That’s not the answer I was looking for!” Robert slammed the guard’s head against the edge of the solid wood desk again, causing his forehead to split open and begin spilling blood down his face.

“She lives at Wayne Manor! Really! Please, don’t kill me!”

“I won’t kill you. I promise.” Robert turned the gun around in his gloved hands, squeezing the handle into one of the security guard’s hand’s tightly. He turned the barrel of the gun toward the guard’s nose. “But I won’t stop you from killing yourself.”

He began laughing as he turned quickly and walked toward the doors of the lobby. The security guard wanted so badly to shoot him in the back, to do anything to stop him…but he couldn’t. He was simply paralyzed with fear.

The gun fell to the ground as the security guard began sobbing. Since his first day as a security guard with Wayne Enterprises, he thought he had a nice, quiet job with a pension. He would never get that pension…the next morning, he would turn in his resignation.

“I could never even think about quitting.” Tim, already fully in costume, leaned against the left fender of the Batmobile as he and Cassandra quietly waited for Bruce to finish looking up some information on his computer. Cassandra wore most of her costume, with the exception of the mask. She was lying on the hood of the car, staring up at the cave ceiling above, admiring the many ridges and features formed of solid rock.

“I know Dick sort of quit”, Tim rambled on, “But he didn’t really. He’s still doing this too, just with another name and costume.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Tim turned around to face Cassandra, the soft sound she made convincing him that she wasn’t paying attention to anything he just said. He frowned as he noticed her lying on the extremely steep hood of the Batmobile. “How do you do that without sliding off?”

Cassandra shrugged, smiling in response to Tim’s question. She didn’t take her eyes off of the ceiling. The patterns in the rock were just mesmerizing. Some rocks were cut, some left natural. But the patterns the process of creating the Bat Cave left behind were accidental artwork in their own right.

She guessed that the cave was originally filled with water, hundreds of years ago – a relentless force which relentlessly chipped away and smoothed the rocks for decades until a cavern formed. She wondered if the water might return one day, only to eat away at all of Bruce’s valuable property and equipment.

“Let’s go.”

Watching Batman walk past her quickly toward the driver’s side of the car, Cassandra carefully rolled of off of the hood of the car and climbed into the back through the passenger side. Cramped as it was, the poor excuse for a back seat was where she liked to be. While she sat back there, she went virtually unnoticed by either Batman or Robin. She even remembered taking a short nap or two.

But not today. Their destination was only minutes away, and a rather unusual location – they stopped in the alley behind a hospital. Cassandra quickly put on her mask and tapped Robin’s shoulder, turning her palms up to silently ask him what was going on. He just shrugged.

“Robin, you’re with me. Batgirl, get to the roof…keep an eye out. And stay out of sight.”

Batgirl silently fumed about being left as a lookout as she watched Batman and Robin slip through a side entrance into the hospital. Now she would never know what was going on. But as she used a cable launcher to ascend quickly up the side of the building, and felt the cool rain on her face, she knew that she had the better part of the deal.

She quickly attached the cable launcher to her belt and gripped the edge of the roof with her gloved hands. Cable still attached, she pulled herself onto the slick gravel and tar roof, unwinding the cable from a small steel vent and reeling it back into the launcher.

As soon as she paused for a moment, she noticed a maintenance worker on the roof pointing a flashlight down a large vent at the other end of the roof. She didn’t even breathe for several seconds, until she was sure that he didn’t spot her. She felt relieved when she realized that he not only didn’t see her, but that the vent contained a rather loud air conditioning compressor. He wouldn’t hear her even if she stomped across the roof.

A quick dash toward a small shed and a carefully executed standing slide across part of the rain-slicked roof gave Batgirl some shelter, just in case the maintenance man decided to take a look around the roof. She slipped into the shed and closed the door behind her quickly, using a grated vent at the top of the shed to keep an eye on the man. She wondered when he would leave – but he just stood there, looking at that compressor.

She sighed and sat down on a discarded stool, leaning back against the shed’s steel wall as she began listening to the soothing sound of the raindrops hitting the steel roof above her head. The sound made her feel happy, contented. She was on her own once again, free to enjoy the environment around her. And most important, the fact that it was raining harder meant the maintenance guy would probably retreat back into the building, leaving the roof to her.

Or would he?

Batgirl sat up suddenly as she heard a faint sound just outside the shed. She silently rose from the stool, moving as far into a dark corner as she could. Another sound, still faint, but this time closer. Her heart began beating quickly as she reached down and picked up the stool, holding is as a shield, or maybe a weapon, in from of her.

The door to the shed creaked, and began opening slowly. As soon as it partially opened, a shadow of a man moved partway inside. Batgirl slammed the stool into the shadow, hearing the breath rush out of the man’s lungs from the impact. She spun around quickly, landing her boot on the side of his head, knocking him to the ground.

She raced out of the shed, intent on putting as much distance as possible between her and the man she had just knocked down. But her plans were cut short as she slammed into…Batman?

Batgirl turned her head quickly as she watched Robin stumble out of the shed, holding onto the side of his head and groaning softly. She rushed over to his side, propping one arm across her shoulders. “I’m so sorry”, she whispered. Robin just waved her apology away, and smiled at her.

As soon as the trio returned to the Bat Cave, Cassandra removed her mask and raced to a small freezer to fetch an ice pack. She offered it to Robin – he refused it at first, but relented when she became insistent. Neither one of them noticed when Bruce returned out of costume and stood imposingly in front of them. He didn’t look happy.

“Cassandra, you need to improve your recognition skills. And Tim…she wouldn’t have even heard you coming if you hadn’t made so much noise.”

Cassandra suddenly remembered why, while hearing the sounds from the shed, she assumed it was the maintenance man – she noticed, while the man looked at that air conditioning compressor, that he was fairly large. The sound she heard was a faint creaking caused by rubber boots rubbing against a rain-slicked tar roof – boots worn by someone big.

She smiled and shook her head at Bruce. “He’s lighter. I heard you.”

Tim wanted to gloat, to point out that Cassandra was right. But an icy glare from Bruce put an end to any such thoughts.

“I’m glad you’ve all returned.” Alfred walked into the Bat Cave carrying a small package wrapped in thin paper. They were some sort of flowers – tulips, to be exact. “A package was delivered while you were gone.”

“Looks like you have a secret admirer, Bruce.” Tim smiled and nudged him. He responded with a sly smile of his own.

“No, Master Tim. This package was addressed to…Cassandra.”

“Cassandra?” Tim and Bruce both spoke her name at once, as they turned to stare at her in confusion. She barely even left the house except with one of the two, or Barbara. A mysterious stranger sending her flowers was inconceivable.

As she gently took the package of white tulips from Alfred, she searched them quickly, only to find that no card or return address was attached. They were just flowers, from someone she didn’t know…

…And that thought terrified her.

 

Cassandra sat on a plain wooden bench, her head hanging as police officers passed her looking down at her as if she were common street scum. She was supposed to be a hero – yet there she was, chained to a wall by a pair of steel handcuffs like a common criminal.

The last thing she remembered was punching a man – no, a sickening creature who preyed on those weaker then himself – and feeling proud of herself for it. She may not have been able to protect the woman he attacked, but she did manage to make him feel a penalty for what he had done.

Unfortunately, the two police officers on the scene didn’t feel the same way. Before Cassandra knew what had happened, one of the two officers slammed her against a nearby parked car. She struggled, tried to fight him – but she relented as she realized it was a futile struggle. Fighting the police for doing their job would be plain stupid.

So she sat on a bench, waiting for Barbara to arrive. At least she hoped it would be Barbara that Tim would call – asking Bruce for help would be adding insult to injury. He always told her, and Tim, to stay away from law enforcement. He wouldn’t care that her cause was just.

“You’re sprung. He dropped the charges.”

Cassandra looked up to see the officer which arrested her standing over her. He reached behind her gently and removed the handcuffs. As he did, he whispered in her ear, something she didn’t expect. ‘Nice punch…just don’t get caught next time.’

She nodded, trying her best to mask a smile as she stood and took her jacket and sunglasses from him. She glanced toward the door, and felt shock surge through her as she caught the sight of…him…heading out of the police station as well. She gave the officer a questioning look.

“Since you…assaulted him”, the officer answered, anticipating her question, “We had to release him until his trial. It was a deal – he drops his charges if we reduce his bail.”

Cassandra sighed and bowed her head as she headed toward the door. That scum was free to walk the streets…and it was her own fault. She noticed Tim standing outside the glass doors, and headed directly toward him. He seemed upset when she stepped outside.

“I couldn’t find Barbara, but I did manage to sneak away with Bruce’s Jaguar. I had no idea how I’d get you out of here. You’re just lucky you’re so…lucky.”

As Cassandra paused to smile at him, his frown was slowly replaced with a smile. He took her jacket and placed one arm across her shoulders as she put her sunglasses on.

“Bruce is going to kill us when he finds out about the car, you know.”

Tim and Cassandra climbed into Bruce’s Jaguar, only peripherally aware of a man sitting in an old beat up car across the parking lot. He wore a black baseball cap, and was aiming a camera directly at one of them…Cassandra.

“This subject is an interesting one.” Bruce tapped a pencil against his chin as he stared at a police lineup photo of a tall man with dark hair, known only to them as ‘Robert’.

“You don’t have to call them ‘subjects’, Bruce.” Barbara rolled her wheelchair across the room with one smooth motion, her natural athleticism giving her an advantage, in spite of her inability to walk. “This isn’t a hospital. In fact, it’s a cave, which probably violates several zoning laws.”

Bruce laughed, partly to acknowledge, and partly to dismiss Barbara’s comment. “This…Robert…was arrested for rape and murder. Yet he was released because he was assaulted by a small, dark-haired young woman who refused to identify herself, and consequently, the officers couldn’t remember mirandizing him.”

“Couldn’t they identify her by her fingerprints?”

After reading for several seconds, Bruce shook his head. “They didn’t take prints. No charges were filed against her, so she was released as well. Robert dropped the assault charges, and the officers were reluctant to file interference with arrest charges.”

Barbara smiled. “I guess they felt sorry for her. But why did she assault him? Was she a witness?”

Bruce sighed and began searching through the rest of the police reports on his computer. Barbara, back in her days as Batgirl, showed him how to tap into the police crime database, so he could more efficiently keep track of unusual crime sprees or arrests. It made him a more efficient crime fighter.

He suddenly paused at one report, and leaned forward to make sure he was reading it correctly. “This is interesting. Alfred?”

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

Bruce stood and looked at Barbara for a second. “Would you please see if my Miata is parked in the garage?”

Alfred nodded and headed back toward the house. “I will, Master Bruce.”

“What is it? What does it say?” Barbara rolled closer to the computer to read the screen as Bruce paced back and forth. “Oh my God…”

“Cassandra.” Bruce folded his arms and frowned as he watched Cassandra and Tim enter the Bat Cave. They were both smiling, which made him even angrier.

As soon as she walked through the door, Cassandra could feel eyes on her. Bruce gave her a cold stare from across the room, Barbara gave her a look of disappointment and pity. Even Alfred stared, though his gaze was more of a dignified warning.

“My car, Cassandra. Where is it?”

Cassandra shrugged. She turned around to look at Tim, just as he was about to say something to defend her. But instead of allowing him to, she quickly gestured for him to leave. She took a deep breath before answering, “It crashed.”

Bruce leaned his forehead against his right hand and sighed deeply. “That car is registered to me, Cassandra. What happens if this incident is linked directly to me?”

“Fine.” Cassandra stepped closer to Bruce, staring at him angrily and speaking just above a whisper. She couldn’t believe he cared more about his car and reputation then her or Tim. “Say it was stolen. I can handle it.”

His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to Cassandra, his icy stare penetrating to her very core. She knew from those eyes that he had gone into his uncaring, cold Batman persona. He was insulated from all feeling, his only drive being logic and unrestrained anger bottled up from his past. As he leaned closer, he only said one word. “Done.”

Cassandra looked at Barbara for a second as she watched Bruce head straight for the telephone, picked up the handset, and began dialing. She became a little worried – Bruce was a master at bluffing, but–

“Bruce…come on!” Barbara rolled toward him quickly, but he grabbed the metal armrest of her wheelchair quickly to hold her at arm’s length, not missing a beat as he finished dialing. He seemed surprised when the phone suddenly went dead – Barbara was smiling, holding the other end of the cord.

He scowled as he watched Cassandra trying, but failing to mask her smile. She was amused by Barbara’s stunt – and the fact that she had outsmarted the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’. Her smile disappeared quickly, however, as he stood in front of her, a picture of anger towering above her.

“Laugh now, Cassandra….Enjoy yourself. You’ll be crying after our mission tonight.”

Without another word, Bruce headed back into the house silently. Cassandra glanced at Barbara again, who shrugged and smiled at her. “Don’t let him scare you, Cassandra. He treats you like an amateur…but you’ve got what it takes.”

“I can’t believe you took the rap for me.” Tim stood next to the closed door of the bathroom off of Cassandra’s room, as she lingered inside changing into her Batgirl costume. Tim already wore his, with the exception of the mask. “He’s already so much tougher on you then he is on me, because–”

Tim stepped back as the door opened quickly, and Cassandra stepped out dressed in her leather costume, boots, and gloves. She held the mask in her right hand, neatly folded, leaving her face and dark shoulder length hair exposed. He noticed that she didn’t tie her hair up this time, or stuff it into her costume. Tim had to smile – Cassandra’s small rebellions were rather entertaining to him. “Because he knows you’re as good as he is. Don’t let him get to you…he just hates competition.”

Cassandra smiled and gave Tim a ‘thumbs up’ with her left hand. She indicated toward the door with her head. “Let’s go.”

He followed Cassandra, looking down at the ground as his mind swam with thoughts. He had to appreciate her enthusiasm – Bruce had promised her a harrowing night, yet she was bright, happy, and excited about the challenge. She didn’t seem the least bit afraid. Yet unlike Cassandra, Tim found himself feeling a little afraid. The Bat team shared it’s experiences – if it would be something designed to terrify her, he couldn’t imagine what it would do to him.

Tim paused to notice that Cassandra had stopped in the entryway to the Bat Cave. She held his hand in her gloved left hand tightly and smiled. “Don’t worry.”

As he followed Cassandra down the stairway to the Bat Cave, he smiled at Cassandra’s words. They were so simple, yet a hundred percent correct. ‘Don’t worry’, she said. It explained so much of how she didn’t let any of Bruce’s threats get to her, of how she saw every mission as an adventure, no matter how dangerous. He knew at that moment that she, too, was afraid…but she refused to allow it to control her.

“What’s the big mission, Bruce?” Tim quickly put on his mask and headed straight over to Bruce, who already wore his costume complete. Bruce was obviously using his computer to do research – but when Tim approached, he quickly turned it off. Tim frowned. “We might benefit from some information too, you know.”

“I’ll tell you what you need to know.” Bruce stood quickly, frowning at Cassandra when he noticed that she still held the mask part of her costume in her right hand. His disapproving look and cold eyes told her that Bruce had also changed his persona to the Dark Knight. “Let’s go.”

As was usual when Batman used a mission as a test, he began by racing to the Batmobile. Presumably, those who didn’t manage to enter the car before he started it up and drove away would be left behind – but as of yet, neither Batgirl nor Robin took that chance. They were both in the car by the time it tore out into the darkness outside.

Cassandra glanced at Robin for a moment before slipping her mask over her head, allowing her black hair to flow from under it, onto her shoulders. Her eyes showed a little bit of fear of the unknown – but her bright, anticipating smile brought confidence. She was now Batgirl…and as far as the world knew, she was invincible.

It seemed only a short time had passed before the Batmobile screeched to a stop on a small side street in Gotham City. The street was dark, and damp from the near constant rains the city had lately, though at the moment it was only drizzling. Batgirl stepped outside immediately behind Batman, and paused to look straight up at what could easily be one of the tallest buildings in Gotham City. She sighed deeply, anticipating what had to be part of the test – heading to the top, fighting the wind and cold rain.

“Suite 4520. Blue notebook”, Batman whispered in a low voice. He looked directly at Batgirl before he completed his sentence. “No distractions this time. I’ll be on the floor above.”

Batgirl frowned as she watched Batman fire a cable launcher at a ledge on a high floor above. She knew he would bring up the incident with Catwoman again. It upset her, the way he used it as a weapon to tear down her confidence. She looked over at Robin, who stood next to her looking straight up the side of the building.

“Time to go to work.” He sighed as he removed a cable launcher from his belt and pointed it straight up. Just as he was about to fire it, he felt a gloved hand grip his wrist tightly. Batgirl shook her head slowly and pointed at a side entrance nearby. “What about security…?”

Before Robin finished his sentence, Batgirl had already picked the lock on the glass side door and held it open for him. He sighed and rushed inside quickly.

The lavish wood, marble, and glass three story high lobby of the building was enormous, yet empty. The lights still burned, and the air conditioning still ran full blast, chilling the two of them as they walked in still wet from the rain outside. The guard’s desk was deserted, since the building had been locked up and secured. Robin ducked behind a pillar as he removed a Bat Wing from his belt, and watched Batgirl do the same. They nodded at each other, each eyeing the two cameras in the lobby. They were on the same wavelength now, working as a single entity – two Bat Wings flew through the lobby, knocking both security cameras out of alignment.

Batgirl rose first, heading straight to the elevators. She tapped the ‘up’ button, waiting patiently as the elevator car slowly headed toward the lobby. She smiled as she noticed that Robin seemed to be awestruck at the simplicity with which Batgirl was handling this little break-in – while Batman struggled up the rain slicked sides of the building, Batgirl simply went inside to use the elevator. It was almost as if she was making a mockery of all of his effort.

As soon as the elevator opened slowly, a carefully aimed cable launcher destroyed the camera before the doors completely opened. At Batgirl’s urging, Robin followed reluctantly.

Oddly enough, Robin didn’t feel nervous until the elevator car started to move. Once it reached the 45th floor, they had no idea who or what would be there. Everything seemed to go so smoothly…too smoothly. He looked over at Batgirl, to see her still smiling, apparently full of anticipation at what was around the next corner.

“I said don’t worry.” Batgirl stared at Robin, smiling as the elevator approached it’s destination.

He was unsure whether her soothing words made him feel more confident, or more frightened – she carried herself like a professional, like someone who has been doing this for years. Yet Robin knew she had been there only a fraction of the time he had been. Was she a natural? Or just reckless? He cringed at the answer, the one which stared him in the face when she came home bruised and bleeding. She was going to get them both killed.

Robin nudged Batgirl and pointed at the hatch in the center of the elevator’s ceiling – if anyone was on the 45th floor, he wanted to keep their element of surprise. That could only be done if the elevator appeared empty. He breathed a sigh of relief as she nodded and slipped through the hatch quickly, offering him a hand to help him as he did the same.

Batgirl watched intently as the doors opened on the 45th floor. It was silent, not a soul in sight. But she could smell something…strange. She dropped through the hatch, quickly swinging out into the hallway, looking behind her to make sure Robin safely followed.

“Chemicals.” Robin looked up at the ceiling, sniffing the air as he stared at one of the florescent lights. He tried to reach one of the ceiling tiles, but he wasn’t tall enough. He looked at Batgirl and motioned upward, hoping she would understand – and in a second, she had lifted him up by his legs. He pushed one of the tiles aside, and stuck his head inside the ceiling…only for an instant. He suddenly began losing his balance as he began to panic over what he had seen, crashing to the floor next to Batgirl.

“What?”

“We have to get out. The building’s on fire.” Robin pushed the call button for the elevator quickly – but the elevator was no longer moving. He guessed that it’s fire detection system picked up the smoke once he had opened the ceiling tile.

“The blue notebook–”

“It’s a red herring, Batgirl.” Robin grabbed her wrist quickly and pulled her toward the stairway at the end of the hall. “Either this is the real test, or someone set Batman up. It happens sometimes.”

“No.” Batgirl raced down the hall away from Robin, heading quickly toward Suite 4520. “I won’t fail.”

“Dammit.” Robin clenched his teeth in frustration and charged after Batgirl, even as the hallway began to slowly fill with silky veins of smoke. He found himself struggling to catch up to her as she easily navigated the hallways – he was faster by far, but she was much more agile, and quick on her feet. She didn’t even have to slow down around corners.

He suddenly stopped as he saw Batgirl standing directly in front of a large set of oak double doors labeled 4520. A brass plate on the wall next to the door read ‘Reuther and Mathers, attorneys at law’. She took a step back and charged at the door, crashing through them feet first. Pieces of the brass and steel lock mechanism bounced off of the thinly carpeted floor as the doors gave way, allowing them entrance into the office.

A distant high-pitched sound filled the office, evidence that they had just triggered an alarm system. Batgirl ignored it – she figured that the authorities would be on their way soon anyhow due to the fire.

“That’s just great”, Robin complained as he looked to the left and right of the reception desk, “There are eight rooms in here. We’ll have to search every one for–”

Robin paused, watching perplexed as Batgirl slowly walked down one hallway, then the other, looking through the small glass window panes next to the oak doors to each office. She paused in front of one, punching her fist through the glass as she motioned for Robin to follow.

She raced into the office and leapt over the desk, landing on both feet on the other side next to the window. She lifted a plastic item, and held it up for Robin to see. It was a blue and white colored notebook computer, not an actual paper notebook.

“Are you sure?” Robin leapt over the desk behind her, reaching across her to try and open the laptop. Batgirl pulled it from his fingers, shaking her head vigorously. “What’s wrong?”

Batgirl shook the computer vertically, very gently, weighing it with her hand. It felt like a small gym weight, and was unbalanced. As she looked at it closely, it also seemed like its plastic parts didn’t fit together well…and it carried a strange scent. “It’s a bomb.”

“Put it down, slowly.” Robin was staring over the desk at something in the office across the hall. Batgirl looked across too, and nearly dropped the laptop when she spotted a woman in work clothing on the floor of the office. She hoped the woman wasn’t dead.

With one smooth motion, Batgirl put the notebook computer on the desk and launched herself over it. She raced across the hall, using her momentum to smash her leather-protected arm through the glass pane next to the door to open it. By this time, Batgirl noticed that the reception area of the office was filling with thick, billowing black smoke. She could hear sirens approaching from the distance.

“She’s too heavy for you in your condition. You’re still healing.” Robin slipped past Batgirl, easily lifting the unconscious woman over his shoulder. He waved for Batgirl to follow as he raced toward the reception area. He suddenly screeched to a halt, turning and nearly crashing into Batgirl. “No use, the smoke’s too thick. We’ll have to go out the window.”

Batgirl quickly motioned for Robin to follow, and charged toward one of the windows inside the office with the blue notebook computer, using the desk as a launching point to send her crashing through the hard safety glass. It was designed to withstand impacts from chairs, maybe even cable launchers – but it buckled easily under her weight as she dove through it rolled into a ball to protect her eyes and face from cuts.

As soon as she felt cool, moist wind through her hair, she quickly spread her cape to slow herself just enough to safely grab the edge of a balcony on the 40th floor, pulling herself up quickly. She looked up to see Robin reeling himself toward the street on a cable launcher with the unconscious woman still over her shoulder. Fire trucks and police cars were just arriving.

She looked down at the Batmobile, squinting to see if anyone was inside. It was empty, meaning that Batman was still inside the building. And that bomb…if the firefighters found it–

Batgirl crouched down as the building suddenly lurched violently beneath her feet. She heard glass shattering above her, and had just enough time to throw her cape over her head before dangerous shards began raining down on her. It was clear to her that the bomb had already gone off – she hoped that no one was around to see it close up.

She rose slowly, noticing that a couple of police officers on the ground were pointing at her. Before they had a chance to even talk to her, she dove through a cracked window adjacent to the balcony, crashing though it easily into a 40th floor office. She raced back to the hallway, feeling the smoke burn her lungs as she raced toward the stairway. Batgirl had to make sure Batman was safe.

“Robin! Where is she?”

Robin turned abruptly, still carrying the unconscious woman, prepared to run. But he calmed down once he processed the voice – it was Barbara. As he gently placed the woman he carried on the damp ground carefully, two paramedics quickly rushed to her side. “She’s still in the building, trying to rescue–”

He turned pale suddenly when he noticed Bruce Wayne standing in front of him, dressed in a suit and smiling. He looked at the form of the Batmobile hidden in the darkness of the alley. It was still there.

“Evening…Robin, is it? Do you have any leads on who set my building on fire?”

“Your building…?” Robin looked up at the window where he watched Batgirl re-enter the building. Thick smoke was now pouring out of the shattered opening. He began to worry for her, and wonder if she was even still alive. He began fuming silently, feeling anger toward Bruce for allowing her to get herself into so much danger. “Excuse me…uh…Mr. Wayne. I have some work to do.”

Without another word, Robin gave Bruce one more glare as a cable launcher taken from his belt sent him effortlessly toward the 40th floor. He had to make sure Batgirl was safe.

The smoke was getting thicker now, making it difficult for Batgirl to breathe or see. Unlike Bruce, she didn’t carry a breathing apparatus with her – the equipment was much too heavy for her. But now she longed for one as her lungs and eyes burned, tears involuntarily streaming down her face, and she was moving slower now as her energy waned. She tried to keep low to avoid most of the smoke, but the scent of burning chemicals was so strong, she couldn’t resist it totally.

She froze as she heard footsteps approaching quickly. Whoever was approaching her was not walking. It was a woman…skipping? She backed up against a wall and crouched down, waiting for the sound to get closer, so she could see who it was – a woman in a black leather cat costume, complete with a tail. It was Catwoman – and she wasn’t affected by the smoke because she was wearing a steel oxygen tank on her back.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Catwoman stood over Batgirl, bending down on one knee. It was apparent by then that she wore a plastic breathing mask over her face as well. She smiled at Batgirl, and pulled one of the two thin plastic straw-like oxygen tubes out of her mask. “Want a hit?”

Batgirl looked closely at Catwoman, noticing that she carried a backpack full of various items scavenged from the burning building. She guessed that Catwoman was probably not the fire starter, but was simply taking advantage of it to rob the place blind.

“Come on…I know you’re not like Batty Boy. You’re not too proud to accept help, are you?”

A painful-sounding cough from Batgirl answered the question for her. If she didn’t get some clean air soon, she would probably succumb to smoke inhalation. She took the plastic tube from Catwoman gently, breathing in large gulps of pure oxygen. It made her feel dizzy, but so alive. She felt energized again, like she was ready to take on the world.

“That’s much better, isn’t it?” Catwoman smiled as Batgirl gave her a nod. She turned to walk away, pausing for a second as if to contemplate telling Batgirl something. “I know who you’re looking for. Batty’s gone. He left you here to die.”

Batgirl stood up abruptly, inhaling even more smoke. She gave Catwoman a questioning look.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” With a laugh, Catwoman started skipping away from Batgirl quickly. “That’s what you get for hooking up with a lunatic.”

A door across the hall began creaking, Batgirl could see thicker smoke coming from underneath – it was going to explode, sending a torrent of flames into the hallway. She raced to the elevators a few yards away, and pried one set of doors open, leaping into the dark elevator shaft to grab the greasy cable in the center tightly with her leather-clad hands and legs.

Just as Batman trained her to do so many times, she controlled her descent, sliding down the cable carefully even as fire roared into the elevator shaft above her, sending smoking debris falling on her head.

“Batgirl!”

She froze as she heard someone call out her name. It was Robin! She looked around, but couldn’t see him in the darkness.

“Batgirl! I see you! Slide down, I’ll be right behind you!”

Batgirl gave him a ‘thumbs-up’ sign before finishing her descent quickly, dropping down to the lobby level and prying the doors open quickly.

As soon as her feet touched the marble lobby floor, she found herself having to dive back into the elevator shaft quickly – a man in the lobby was firing a hail of bullets her way from a machine gun he carried. He wasn’t a large man, but he moved quickly, too fast for her to throw a bat-wing in to disarm him. Luckily, his wasteful use of the machine gun caused him to run out of bullets.

She charged across the lobby, intent on knocking him off of his feet before he had a chance to reload. Launching herself into the air just before approaching him, she aimed both of her feet at his stomach – and promptly found herself landing head-first on the hard marble floor behind him, the man holding on to her ankle tightly. He was trained in karate, judo, or some other fighting discipline.

Batgirl began struggling as the man began dragging her across the floor, swinging her around in a smaller and smaller circle until her head lifted off of the ground from the centrifugal force. Then he let go, sending her crashing into a decorative pole, shattering the marble covering over it’s steel core.

She shook off the pain radiating from her neck and back, and the dizziness, as the man headed straight for his gun – but luckily, Robin beat him to it, tossing the gun up to the second floor balcony. He was quickly rewarded by the man attacking him with a series of kicks, the third of which knocked him to the ground. He then drew an 8-inch knife from his belt, raising it above Robin.

Powered by pure anger, Batgirl launched herself at the man again. She wouldn’t allow herself to be thrown away, punched, or beaten this time. She wouldn’t allow him to hurt Robin, or anyone else, anymore. Rather then attack him this time, however, she simply guarded her face with her arms and slammed into him, using her full weight against his. To her surprise, the man fell to the ground, his blade falling with a ‘clang’ and sliding away from him.

She couldn’t remember how many times she punched him…all she knew, all she felt, was the pleasure at watching his jaw and nose shatter, at watching his blood spill all over the marble floor. All she thought about was the humiliation she felt at nearly being beaten by the man, and the heat of anger at watching Robin nearly die at his hand. She ignored the man’s pleas in some foreign language…she kept punching him even as he begged for his life, his feeble attempts to defend himself making her angrier.

And then he fell silent.

She drew back her fist once more, but froze when she realized that he was no longer fighting back. His eyes were fixed straight at her, the picture of mortal fear of a man meeting his death. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

Batgirl rose to her feet quickly and stumbled until her back met a marble pole. She slid down to the floor slowly, looking at her blood covered leather gloves, and the spots of blood spattered all over her costume. She was covered in it…covered in death.

“Come on, Batgirl. We have to go.”

Even as Robin finally lifted her off of the floor and carried her out the side exit to the car, Batgirl didn’t make a sound. The only motion she made was to remove her mask as he began driving them home quickly. He kept glancing at her – but she didn’t even acknowledge it. She just stared straight ahead.

Robin was sitting leaned back in a chair in the Bat Cave, still in costume except for his mask, when Bruce walked in smiling. Bruce’s seemingly good mood brought an immediate frown from Tim. “I hope you’re happy.”

Bruce looked quickly around the Bat Cave, noticing that Tim was the only soul present. “Where is she?”

“In the shower.” Tim removed his boots quickly and sat up. He sighed deeply before rising to his feet painfully – he still felt sore from the evening’s activity. “That’s where she’s been since we came back.”

“Hmm.” Bruce walked over to his computer terminal. It sprang to life as he began typing rapidly on the keyboard before even sitting down.

Tim headed toward the door, but paused as he watched Bruce seemingly ignoring him as he typed on the keyboard. “I know what you’re thinking, Bruce. She got too involved, let her emotions control her. But you know what? I’d rather have her watching my back. At least I know she’s loyal to me.”

A creak came from Bruce’s chair as Tim turned and headed toward the house. The typing had stopped. Tim paused, but didn’t turn, as he waited for the inevitable comment from Bruce.

“As opposed to who?”

“You know exactly who.” Tim frowned and continued on his path out of the Bat Cave, leaving Bruce behind to think about his comment. He knew it cut through Bruce, even though he seemed to ignore it, and quietly resume working with his computer.

Tim headed upstairs and straight down a hallway of Wayne Manor, stopping in front of Cassandra’s bedroom door. He knocked silently, before noticing that the door was already open a crack.

“Cassandra?” Tim pushed the door open gently, knocking again as he spotted her sitting curled up on the carpeted floor next to the bathroom, her back against the wall, dressed in her civilian clothing from earlier in the day. Her dark hair was still dripping wet from her extra-long shower, spilling traces of water onto her shirt. Yet she still didn’t seem to feel any better – she was still staring straight ahead into the void.

He walked across the room, sitting down on the floor carefully next to Cassandra. She only briefly acknowledged his presence with her eyes before resuming her blank stare. He nudged her shoulder once gently, giving her a half-hearted smile. “I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” Cassandra placed her hands on her knees, and leaned her forehead against them, closing her eyes. Her words were immediately followed by a deep, emotional sigh.

Without another word exchanged, Tim hugged Cassandra tightly…and just as he anticipated, tears began silently streaming from her eyes. She cried for the man who’s frozen eyes still haunted her, his pleading voice still echoing in her ears…she was mourning for her soul.

“I think it’s working very well.”

“Bruce–” Barbara rolled her wheelchair across Bruce’s living room quickly, stopping only inches in front of him in an attempt to intimidate him a little. “You can’t toy with people like this. I know you wanted Tim and Cassandra to bond, but you don’t have to treat them like garbage to–.”

“It’s a proven method used by the U.S. Marines.” Bruce calmly walked past Barbara and sat down on the couch, placing the steaming cup of tea he held on the table next to him. “They’ll look for strength in each other.”

“But they’ll hate you–”

“Only temporarily. In time, they’ll see that it was necessary.”

Barbara sighed, sliding out of her wheelchair and effortlessly using the strength of her arms to place her on the couch next to Bruce. “For someone who thinks he knows people, Bruce, you couldn’t be farther off. Cassandra may be tough on the outside, but she’s very sensitive…people who are close to her can hurt her easily.”

“She’ll live.”

Just as Bruce attempted to sip his tea, Barbara took it from him gently, placing the cup on the table at the other end of the couch. “I think she knows what you’re up to, Bruce. Your little ruse hasn’t caused her and Tim to bond, it’s just causing her to become upset with you for treating her like a child. I think she was bonding with Tim on her own already.”

“Hmm.” Bruce frowned and reached for his tea cup, only to watch Barbara shove it farther away. He knew that she was trying to force him to give her his full attention. “That’s what you think?”

“You remember where you found her, Bruce? The fire? What happened to her parents?”

Bruce suddenly froze, staring at Barbara. She didn’t continue, but he understood her point – the fire which killed Cassandra’s parents was set by her, after she had been mentally abused for years…until she felt she had no other recourse.

“Barbara–”

She smiled slightly at Bruce, anticipating what he would say. She enjoyed being right, and made sure to let him know it. “She values honesty, Bruce. She wants you to treat her like an adult.”

“You’re right.” Bruce sighed and stood slowly, leaving his tea cup behind. He walked out of the living room, headed toward the main hallway quickly. He was headed toward Cassandra’s room – it was time to be honest with her.

“Close your eyes. Find a quiet space inside you.” Cassandra sat in the center of her bed, her legs and sock-covered feet crossed beneath her. She was facing Tim, who was doing the same – they appeared almost as mirror images of each other.

She began breathing deeply, slowly, her hands resting on her knees as she let every muscle relax. The sights around her vanished as her eyelids closed, and the sounds around her began to fade out of her perception as her slow breathing took focus in her mind. The only thoughts she kept were ones of quiet, of peace, and happiness.

Cassandra could feel the slightest movement in the surface of the bed’s mattress as either herself or Tim shifted very slightly from their nearly frozen postures, directly across from each other. In her state of a sort of half-consciousness her senses were magnified many times. It was both relaxing and intriguing.

It proved to be a more interesting experience as she heard Bruce’s footsteps enter the room. The bed’s surface shook violently as she remained frozen, and she felt Tim move past her – she knew that Bruce most likely asked him to wait outside for a moment. She opened her eyes slowly when she sensed his shadow looming over her.

“I know. I screwed up.”

“You’re right. But that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about.” Bruce half-smiled when she said that, as he pulled a nearby chair to the edge of the bed and sat down. “Cassandra…I’ve been underestimating you. I should have been treating you as an equal.”

Cassandra nodded and sat at the edge of the bed, folding her arms as she stared at Bruce, waiting for him to continue. She was eager to hear what he had to say now that her lungs and nose were still lined with black soot from the smoke in that burning building, and the voice of the man she killed in that fight still echoed in her mind.

“It was supposed to be a simple retrieval, Cassandra. The woman you found unconscious tipped me off to an employee named Robert, who was stealing from the company. He kept his personal records in…as she called it…a ‘blue notebook’. Apparently, he found out somehow…the notebook computer was supposed to explode and kill the informant. The fire, along with disconnected sprinklers, were supposed to cover up the evidence. You and Tim saved her life, as well as my building.”

She paused to think for a moment as she took a deep breath, glancing at her hands for a moment before she looked at Bruce. “But I–”

“That man you fought was someone Robert hired”, Bruce interrupted as he leaned closer to Cassandra, “He’s an assassin named Vladimir who recently immigrated from Serbia. He’s ex-military. Specialties of his are explosives, weapons, and combat. He made his money off of killing people. ”

Cassandra shook her head slowly, looking at the floor. Tears were forming in her eyes again, though this time she tried to fight them. “I don’t feel any better.”

“You’ll have to work through that on your own. I just came in here to offer you honesty.”

As Bruce stood up and headed toward the door, Cassandra looked up at him, smiling weakly. “Catwoman was there.”

Bruce turned around quickly, a look of concern on his face. “Oh? Do you think she set the fire?”

“No.” Cassandra shook her head, trying her best not to laugh as she remembered Catwoman skipping happily down the hallway wearing a backpack and an oxygen tank. “She was…stealing stuff.”

A loud, boisterous laugh from Bruce finally prompted Cassandra to cover her mouth, half embarrassed that she had even witnessed such a comical event first-hand. Catwoman, looting an office building during a fire. At the time, she didn’t think much of it, but looking back…it made the whole experience seem surreal, like a dream.

She finally began laughing as she watched Bruce and Tim pass each other in the doorway – Bruce heading out, Tim heading back in. Bruce said something Cassandra couldn’t hear to Tim in the doorway, and Tim laughed a little as well.

Tim pointed a thumb toward the door as soon as Bruce was far enough away not to hear. “Does he think something is going on between us?”

Cassandra wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Yeah…right.”

An expensive office, decorated in wood paneling and various glass sculptures, gave away the fact that the psychiatrist who worked there was rather high-priced. He sat in a deep leather chair, as his patient lay down on an even more plush leather couch, staring at the white painted ceiling. As he stared, he didn’t say a word, much to the irritation of Dr. Craig Marcus.

Dr. Marcus sat up straight, writing furiously on his notepad. He gave his patient, known to him only as Robert, no indication of how frustrated he felt. It might delay any possibility of getting him to talk. Unfortunately, anger seeped into his voice every time he spoke.

“Look, Robert…I’m being paid one way or the other. The only way the court will let you discontinue your therapy is if I tell them you’re better.”

Robert didn’t even budge as Dr. Marcus leaned forward to try and gauge even the smallest response from him. It was like this every week – Robert would come in precisely at his eleven a.m. appointment and lie down, saying nothing or even moving until his time was up an hour later.

“All right, Robert, we’ll try something different.” Dr. Marcus tossed his notepad aside and walked to his desk, removing a picture from one of the drawers. He glanced at the young woman in the picture – a brown-eyed brunette – staring at her riveting eyes for a few seconds, wondering why Robert had become so obsessed with her.

He walked over to the couch, and held the photo above Robert so he could see it. “Let’s talk about Amanda, shall we?”

Robert suddenly jumped to his feet, shoving Dr. Marcus out of his way angrily as he let out a primitive growl. As Dr. Marcus slammed into one of the wood paneled walls, Robert lifted a floor lamp, smashing it into his face. Blood began running down Dr. Marcus’ ironed white shirt – his nose was broken.

He didn’t have time to even yell for help before Robert ran from his office – and in a way, he was just grateful that Robert had left rather then staying to possibly hurt him more. As unethical as it sounded, he was glad that Robert left…and Dr. Marcus hoped never to see him again.

It was the most surreal evening Cassandra had ever been through in her life. People who cared for her trying their best to communicate with her as she moved through a world that was suddenly silent. It was like being trapped in a nightmare.

She did understand the irony of it – she valued quiet so much, and yet expected others to understand her. But she was always more of a listener then a talker – and now that has been taken away from her.

Cassandra felt sleep coming to an end, knowing that it was morning. But she didn’t want to wake up – as long as she remained asleep, she could hear her own thoughts, her own dreams. She knew that once she opened her eyes a silent, frightening world awaited her once again. She wondered if there was going to be an end to it.

A nudge to her shoulder prompted her only to curl up and squeeze her eyes shut even tighter, to close the world out of her mind. But she succeeded only in earning a harder shake from whoever was trying to wake her. There was a faint sound…it was her name. Someone far, far away was calling to her.

She opened her eyes and rolled onto her back. Tim was the one who woke her up. He was mouthing the words, ‘Are you okay?’ She almost nodded in response…but as her eyes turned sad, her head gave him a ‘no’ answer instead.

“I’m so sorry…I should have been there”, the distant voice said. Cassandra began to realize that the voice was Tim’s – but it sounded like it was travelling on the wind across a valley rather then from a few feet in front of her.

Cassandra sat up and hugged Tim tightly, her eyes closing again as he reciprocated. She would never admit it to him…but she wished he would have been there as well.

“Don’t tell Bruce I said this…but you never should have been sent on that mission alone.” Tim let go of Cassandra and sat down on the edge of the bed. “He’s only human, even he makes mistakes. Last night, he just thought it was more important for him to keep an eye on the city. It’s a matter of trust. He trusts you on your own more then he trusts the city to itself.”

She sighed sadly and curled back up in bed, closing her eyes, sealing out the world once more. She didn’t want any part of a world she couldn’t hear, and she would not listen to any explanations of what happened to her. The fact was, it happened. No amount of reasoning could change that.

“Get plenty of rest, Cassandra. Next time out, I’m insisting on going with you.” Tim stood and started heading toward the room’s door quickly.

“I…don’t need a babysitter.” Cassandra sat upright quickly, sending an angry gaze Tim’s direction. She shuddered at the sudden wave of dizziness, and at the distant, foreign sound of her own voice. She sounded like she had some kind of accent that she couldn’t pinpoint.

Tim sighed and walked back to the bed, sitting down while keeping his eyes fixed on hers. “Do you know how I survived out there before I met Bruce? I knew when to run.”

Cassandra’s frown turned to a smile as she imagined Robin, the ‘Boy Wonder’, running from criminals with a look of terror on his face.

“I still do that to this day. It’s how I stay alive on the streets of Gotham. But you’re a fighter, you never run. I admire that aspect of you…but to be honest, it also scares me. I worry that one night, you won’t come back. And you know Bruce, he’d just say ‘those are the risks’ and move on. But me–”

Tim sighed and stood up to head toward the door, intending to leave his last sentence unfinished. But he changed his mind and paused, still facing away from Cassandra. “I’ve never been a quitter, Cassandra. But after what happened to you last night…let’s just say that I’m beginning to question what I do.”

Cassandra watched Tim head toward the door without saying another word, except for a whispered ‘see you later’ uttered as the door clicked shut. She was more then a little surprised that Tim had become so close to her. It was like having a big brother…only she felt she was protecting him sometimes by drawing so much of Bruce’s attention.

She slid out of bed, acutely aware of the distant sounds associated with it, as well as the hollow sounds of her feet hitting the carpeted floor as she walked toward her closet and bathroom. It was going to be a long day.

“How is she?” Bruce’s voice echoed off of the walls of the Bat Cave…or at least it seemed to when Tim heard it.

“Maybe you should have asked that last night.”

Bruce turned and gave Tim an angry look. Tim glared right back for a moment before turning away, pretending to grab a few items to re-stock his utility belt.

“Is there some kind of a problem, Tim?” Bruce continued staring at Tim with a steely, cold gaze as Tim continued to avoid his glance.

Tim sighed loudly and tossed his utility belt aside. “Why did you send her out there, Bruce?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you”, Bruce replied in a monotone, without moving a muscle.

“Don’t give me that.” Tim returned Bruce’s cold gaze, as his own anger began to seep into his facial expression. “I’m not some green trainee of yours. I’m experienced.”

“Experienced?” Bruce stood suddenly, grabbing Tim’s arm and pulling him over to the computer console on the opposite wall almost violently. As he tapped a few keys, a newspaper article appeared on the screen – it detailed his parents’ deaths. “Experience this, Tim. I learned everything I did on my own, with no one to look after me…or clean up my disasters–”

“Cassandra isn’t the same as you!” Tim angrily pulled his arm free from Bruce’s grip, taking a few steps back. “She hurts easily…emotionally…only she doesn’t show it. Bruce, her failures count more to her then her successes. Why set her up for failure?”

Bruce leaned against the console, folding his arms as if to signal a deepening stubbornness. “Because she needs to learn.”

“Learn? Is that what you call the fact that she can’t hear a thing? Some kind of warped lesson of yours?”

Words suddenly eluded Bruce as he watched an angry, frustrated Tim kick one of the steel chairs in the Bat Cave, and head back into the house for breakfast. As soon as Tim left, Bruce sighed sadly and turned to look at the security camera monitors above his computer console. Cassandra was heading down one of the hallways, toward the kitchen. And just as she always did when he watched…she turned to glance at the camera for just a moment. She could always tell when she was being watched.

“No…I call that my biggest mistake.”

“Robert…what did you say your last name was?” The clerk at the counter of a small hotel in Gotham City looked down at his desk, filling out a small paper card for one of the hotel rooms.

“I didn’t.” Robert snatched the room key from the desk next to the clerk and walked away quickly.

“What a moron.” The clerk just shrugged – Robert had already paid in cash for a week in advance anyway. He looked up a few seconds later to see Robert standing over him again. “Can I help you?”

“What did you call me?”

“Uh…nothing.” The clerk stood a few feet back from the desk, looking around nervously as he answered. On a whim, he lifted up his phone’s handset to make a point. “I was…um…talking on the phone.”

“Sure.” Robert took the phone handset from him, and looked at it for a moment. “And I assume you were talking to my mother?”

“Uh…if you say so.”

Robert frowned and gritted his teeth angrily before slamming the phone handset against the side of the clerk’s head. The clerk fell to the ground behind the counter, using his hand to stop the gash on his forehead from bleeding. “My mother’s dead. I killed her.”

“Holy–” The clerk looked down at his hand momentarily to see that he was bleeding severely. He started shivering from the shock. “I’m calling the cops, man! You’re going to jail!”

“Oh, really?”

Robert lifted a stapler from the desk, unfolding it slowly as he walked around to the other side. The next several minutes were sheer hell for the poor clerk as Robert pinned each of his arms against the floor, slamming the stapler against each finger. By the time Robert walked back to the outside of the counter and hurled the stapler at him, the clerk lay sobbing, in a pool of blood.

“Try dialing now…moron.”

“What kind of a maniac would do this?”

A Gotham City police officer, one of the few working during the police strike, stood over a pool of blood behind the desk of a local hotel, shaking his head. The hotel had been closed to new guests, the lobby cordoned off with crime scene tape, until all evidence could be gathered.

“This is Gotham City. It’s full of maniacs.” A casually dressed red-headed woman with glasses rolled into the lobby in a wheelchair, pushing the crime scene tape over her head.

“Who are you? You can’t come in here!”

“Barbara Gordon, at your service.” Barbara bowed her head and smiled as she rolled over to the officer. Walking behind her was a young woman with dark hair, wearing blue jeans, a leather jacket, a red shirt, and nearly opaque sunglasses. “I can just leave…if you don’t want to ever solve this crime.”

“Officer, can I speak to you for a moment.” Another cop, obviously a sergeant by the stripes on his sleeve, entered the room. He clasped his hands behind his back and whispered to the officer as he kept his eyes on Barbara.

“That’s his daughter?” The officer looked at Barbara for a moment, who smiled again and nodded slowly. He then pointed at the woman with dark hair. “Who’s that?”

“She’s none of your business”, Barbara interrupted. She opened a large bag hanging from one side of the wheelchair, removing a metallic aerosol can, a digital camera, and a small glass capsule.

“Cassandra, spray this on the counter and take a few pictures.” She handed the camera and spray can to the woman behind her. Barbara then tossed the glass capsule to the police officer. “Do something useful…get me a sample of that blood. I don’t think it’s all the victim’s.”

Cassandra headed toward the counter, shaking the can vigorously. She only faintly heard what Barbara said, as her hearing had not fully recovered yet – but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was supposed to do. The can was filled with an acetone-based spray. It would evaporate on most surfaces, but would stick to fingerprints, causing them to stand out for a short while, until the oil that fingers left behind would evaporate. The digital camera would capture the prints before they dissolved.

A liberal spraying revealed no prints on the desk itself – but the telephone handset and stapler were covered with deeply set prints. That meant someone was using both to apply large amounts of force. Cassandra took four pictures of each, and then signaled Barbara.

“The stapler”, Cassandra whispered as Barbara rolled up next to her, “He was beaten with the stapler.”

“Yeah, the cops know that. The perp stapled the man’s fingers–”

“No.” Cassandra shook her head. “The staples came out when–”

“When he broke the clerk’s fingers with it!” Barbara tugged on Cassandra’s arm quickly. “Take a couple of close-up pics of that stapler. It’s bound to be dented.”

Cassandra nodded and snapped a few more pictures. It was difficult, having to concentrate to hear Barbara’s voice – but it was definitely worthwhile. She was experiencing a world previously unavailable to her. While it wasn’t an adrenaline-filled altercation on the street, it was exciting in it’s own right. For the first time she felt like a true detective, using her mind to help solve a crime, exploring avenues no one thought to explore.

“You’re a natural, Cassandra.”

She smiled at Barbara’s words as she continued taking photographs. She always wanted to be more then just an average street fighter, or costumed hero. Cassandra wanted to be something different…something extraordinary.

“So it’s back to work, huh?” Renee Montoya turned around for a moment as Commissioner James Gordon followed her into the nearly empty police station – the few officers which were working that day were all out on calls.

Gordon nodded. “The union’s demands have been met…so it’s back to work. The curfew’s been lifted, and the mask law is under review.”

“Review.” Renee snickered. “That’s a laugh. I have a feeling that law’s going to be around for a while. One of those antiquated ordinances that comes back to haunt us years later.”

“You’re probably right.” Gordon sighed as he walked into his darkened office and flipped on the light. “But we have to pick our battles. This city will fall apart without us, Renee. It can only take so much.”

“Oh, great.” Renee removed the glass pitcher from the coffee maker, holding it up to the light to see the dark film inside it more clearly. “Looks like no one bothered to clean this out before the strike. So when do the other officers get here?”

Commissioner Gordon walked to the desk just outside his office, glancing at Renee and the coffee pitcher before lifting up a telephone nearby. “As soon as we call them. And the faster we start–”

“Yeah, I know.” Renee sighed. “I should have guessed something like this would happen. So what made the city finally give in?”

“Quite frankly–” Gordon headed back into his office, picking up his phone while keeping his eyes fixed on Renee through the open door. “–There have been more violent incidents in Gotham City since the strike then over the rest of the entire year. The Mayor thinks it’s because every nut in Gotham knows about the strike.”

“But they were only committed by two people.”

“I know.” Gordon sighed loudly as he began dialing. “And when you know who they are, it’s much more dangerous…because they know almost as much about you.”

“…what we do now is take the photos back to my place to analyze them with my computer.” Barbara leaned back against the passenger seat of Bruce Wayne’s Jaguar, glancing at Cassandra as she drove the car way too fast through downtown Gotham City traffic. “How did you get Bruce to let you borrow the car?”

Cassandra looked at Barbara for a moment, giving her a mischievous smile before turning her attention back to the road.

“Oh, I see. You didn’t.” Barbara laughed. “I changed my mind. Let’s drop in on Bruce, and use his computer.”

A nod from Cassandra quickly preceded a sudden turn onto another street. As they approached the edge of downtown Gotham, the Jaguar began to pick up speed. They would be at Bruce’s home in no time…or so she thought.

“Cop, Cassandra. Cop!” Barbara frantically pointed at a State Police car parked on the side of the road. A police officer stood outside, aiming a radar gun at the Jaguar. “Slow down, or we’ll–”

It was too late. By the time Cassandra’s foot reached for the brake pedal, she could see the officer quickly climbing back into his car. She slammed the accelerator to the floor, throwing Barbara against the back of the seat.

“Cassandra, this isn’t the Batmobile!” Barbara leaned her face against her hand, and shook her head as she watched the police car pull off of the side of the road far behind them, lights and sirens blazing. “Oh, God…we’re going to be arrested.”

Cassandra shook her head no as she continued driving along the road at high speed. She knew she was only minutes from Wayne Manor. When she arrived, it would be much easier to explain why she was driving a car owned by Bruce Wayne – but before then, explaining would be an impossible task.

She glanced into the rear-view mirror to see the police car slowly gaining, then at Barbara to see her sinking slowly in the car seat. She gave Barbara a reassuring smile, but it didn’t seem to calm her – reassurance only works if you believe it yourself. Cassandra didn’t – she wasn’t sure she would make it, but she had to try.

Luckily, the gamble paid off. She drove up to the front of Wayne Manor quickly, slamming on the brakes at the last second. Though not being used to the car, it actually came to a stop only a few feet from the front steps.

She jumped out of the driver’s side and ran around to the passenger side, eyeing the police car approaching the entrance to the driveway. As she opened the passenger door, Barbara grabbed her arm tightly. “Cassandra, wait. Never run when you can talk. That’s how accidents happen…how an innocent person can be killed by a nervous cop.”

Cassandra took a deep breath and nodded. Now that she had relaxed herself a little more she took Barbara’s suggestion to heart, removing her folded wheelchair from the back seat gently.

“Thanks.” Barbara slid into the wheelchair just as the police officer drove up the driveway and stopped a couple of feet from the Jaguar. “Don’t drop Bruce’s name. Just let him assume we’re friends of his, since we’re here. Just act like any other citizen.”

A nod from Cassandra as she watched the officer approach slowly, his gun drawn.

“Good evening, officer.” Barbara rolled toward the officer in her wheelchair with a smile on her face and her hand outstretched to shake his. “I’m Barbara Gordon.”

The officer paused for a moment, his expression giving away that he was searching his mind – her name was familiar to him. When he finally shook her hand, a big smile formed on his face. “Are you related to–”

Barbara nodded as she looked at Cassandra for a moment. Cassandra’s shoulders seemed to relax – she was relieved that Barbara was right. “Yes, he’s my dad.”

“I’m pleased to meet you. Your dad is a great guy.” The officer looked at Cassandra for a moment too, nodding as if to acknowledge her presence. “Can you tell me why your friend here was driving so fast?”

The slight, innocent laugh from Barbara was carefully designed by her to make the officer seem more relaxed, to make her story more believable. “This is Cassandra’s first time driving a Jaguar. I guess she let the power go to her head.”

As the officer reached out his hand to shake Cassandra’s, his smile vanished for a second when his eyes met hers. A hint of recognition crossed his eyes, as if he had seen them somewhere before. But any sense he had of who she was vanished as Cassandra smiled and shook his hand quickly.

“You two ladies be careful.” The officer tipped the edge of his round hat to the two of them before heading back to his car.

Barbara smiled at Cassandra, nudging her gently with her elbow as the police car started to back out of the driveway. “See? What did I tell you?”

Cassandra laughed. As she watched the police car drive away, she felt the nervousness just drain away. She followed Barbara into Bruce’s home, content to know that she was learning from the best.

“How’s your hearing, Cassandra?”

Tim’s sudden interest in her seemed to entertain Cassandra. Ever since she lost part of her hearing, temporarily according to Bruce’s tests, Tim seemed to want to talk to her at every opportunity. He was eager to share, to listen to her feelings. It made her feel a little sad to see him discouraged when he felt that she wasn’t cooperating.

Cassandra tossed her leather jacket and sunglasses on her bed, fully aware of the fact that Tim followed her into the room. He was being persistent, since she didn’t answer his question.

“Cassandra?” Tim leaned against the table next to the bed and folded his arms. He lowered his voice to a near whisper to test her. “Did you really not hear me, or are you being difficult?”

Without a single word, Cassandra walked over to Tim slowly, kneeling down in front of him. Before he had a chance to ask her what she was doing, or even react, she reached around his legs, lifting him over her shoulders quickly. It was painful for her to do so – her muscles and healing bones cried out to her as she raced to the doorway to drop Tim on the carpeted hallway floor.

“Learn to knock.” Cassandra smiled at Tim and slammed her door – but as Tim noted, she didn’t lock it. She didn’t mean to throw him out, but only to appeal to his manners.

Tim sighed as he rose to his feet slowly and knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately. “I guess your hearing’s fine now, huh?”

“Almost.” Cassandra smiled at Tim, waving her finger to encourage Tim to step into the room. She sat down at the small table next to the door, pointing at an opposite chair.

“Tell, me, Cassandra.” Tim sat down in the opposite chair and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Why don’t you talk? I see so much intelligence in your eyes…but you say nothing.”

Cassandra stood and walked around the table to look down at the seated Tim – she felt sorry for him. He was always on a quest for knowledge, to understand people. Completely unlike Bruce, who always believed he knew everyone. Cassandra had to smile at the irony of it – that by at least trying, Tim probably knew more about her then Bruce ever would.

She knelt down next to Tim, a serious look in her eyes as she stared up at him. “Bruce thinks he knows me.”

Tim laughed. “Yeah, I know the feeling. It’s creepy sometimes, he always knows where I am–”

“No.” Cassandra shook her head, as she searched for a better way to phrase what she meant. She took a deep breath and spoke in a soft voice. “He knows you…from your words. Your actions. I give him no clues.”

Sensing that Cassandra’s words were an incomplete thought, Tim nodded but didn’t say a word. He had finally encouraged her to talk to him – he didn’t want to ruin that. But after several seconds of awkward silence, he knew he had to say something. “Why would you do that? Don’t you want him to understand you?”

Cassandra closed her eyes for several seconds, breathing slowly in the silent room as she felt Tim’s eyes on her, waiting for an answer. But the only answer she had was one which hurt her – after being badly injured twice, and constantly driven harder by Bruce, she honestly believed that he treated her more as an acquaintance or an employee then family.

It hurt…she lived in his home, ate his food, made friends with his caretaker. Yet he seemed happier if she feared him, if she didn’t get too close. Even as Bruce Wayne, she could see the Batman within him – a cold man, who sees every friend as a threat. A man who’s eyes echoed the betrayal he felt at every one of his associates’ failures. He took each one personally, as it it were his own. Barbara’s partial paralysis, Dick’s abrupt departure as Robin, even the death of his parents, to him, amounted to personal failures.

Yet he still refused to understand that not everyone can be like him, that some don’t want to. Every time Batgirl became emotionally involved in a mission, or deviated from his ‘plan’…he took it personally. But Bruce’s tendency to separate himself from his associated had one good side effect – he drove them to find the heroes within themselves. Cassandra had to be Batgirl for herself, not for him. It worked…but it left her feeling empty.

“I want him to care about me. I want someone to.” Cassandra’s eyes were tear-filled by the time she reopened them. As she watched Tim’s face begin to show signs of sadness as well, she felt a little shame for letting her guard down. “I’m alone, Tim.”

She looked away from him quickly to wipe the tears from her eyes, only to feel his hand lifting up her chin to face her again. His eyes were still sad, but he was smiling self-confidently, trying his best to encourage her.

“Look, Cassandra…I’ve been doing this longer then you have. I know exactly what you need.” Tim stood and walked over to the bed quickly, snatching Cassandra’s jacket and sunglasses. “You need some time away from here. A couple of hours to…you know…just to be yourself.”

Cassandra rose slowly to her feet, wrinkling her nose at Tim. “A…date?”

He laughed. “No, we’ll just hang out. Get some ice cream, talk about Bruce. Or maybe about you?”

Cassandra blinked a couple of times to clear her eyes, and took a deep breath before taking the jacket and dark sunglasses from Tim, putting both on quickly. She motioned toward the door with her head, and headed into the hallway.

Tim followed her quickly as they headed toward the front door. “I like those sunglasses. Mind if I borrow them?”

“No.”

“Is that no, you don’t mind, or no, I can’t borrow them?”

“No.”

“Fine.” Tim suddenly snatched the car keys from Cassandra. “But I’m driving.”

“…He said, ‘girls don’t watch football, it’s a guy thing’. So Cass…not you, the other one…decked Kon right out of that chair. He was covered in popcorn and soda!”

Tim glanced over at Cassandra as they cruised down a busy street in Gotham city in yet another one of Bruce’s car’s – a Miata convertible. The top was down, the wind blowing through her dark hair as she covered her mouth to laugh discreetly at the scene he had just described. “Wow, you’re laughing. I thought I’d never see that.”

“You’re funny.” Cassandra leaned her arm against the door, looking at Tim across the car. “Never though I’d see that.”

“You know, Kon says the same thing about me.” He laughed, looking at Cassandra for a moment again. He’d never seen her genuinely happy before, with a real smile on her face. Yet there she was…actually enjoying herself. As Tim looked at her, he noticed something he hadn’t seen before – she had some kind of silver pendant in a strange shape dangling from a necklace she wore. He assumed that it was because she had always hidden it.

“Interesting pendant. What is it?”

Cassandra shrugged as she lifted the pendant off of her shirt to look at it closely. “I’ve always had it.”

“Maybe we should check it out one day. Find out what it is.”

“No.” Cassandra shook her head and dropped the pendant back inside her shirt. “It’s better as a mystery.”

“Suit yourself.” Tim looked at Cassandra for a few seconds to see if she kept her smile. He didn’t want to be the one to break her good mood.

By the time he turned to face the road again, a man was standing directly in front of the car. He swerved hard, vaguely hearing Cassandra gasp as he mashed the brake pedal to the floor. The wheels locked, causing the car to continue skidding toward parked cars on the side of the road in spite of Tim’s best efforts to turn the wheel to straighten it. A split second later, the sound of tearing steel and breaking glass filled the street, and a loud ‘pop’ as the driver and passenger airbags deployed in less time then it took to blink.

The street seemed eerily silent as Tim untangled himself from the airbag. He immediately turned his attention to his passenger. “Cassandra? Are you–”

He was surprised to see that Cassandra had leapt out of the car before him – she was standing in the middle of the street, leaning her chin against her palm, taking in the damage. Tim climbed out of the car and walked toward her. “Are you okay?”

Cassandra nodded. She nudged Tim with her free hand, pointing halfway down the block where the man who caused the accident was being arrested by four Gotham police officers. Behind her were two police cars – meaning they had chased the man to where he was being arrested. That easily explained what caused the accident.

She watched the officers’ lips carefully – one of them said something about ‘murder’. Tim discovered the same thing. He turned to face her just when she did the same.

“Um…Cassandra?” Tim pointed down an alley which was not easily visible from the street, and until now went unnoticed by both of them. In the alley was a woman’s body, lying in a deep pool of blood. All of the color was washed out of her skin – she was clearly dead.

Tim stopped one of the officers as he passed by. “What happened?”

She could only see the officer’s lips moving as he answered, the sounds generating his voice seemingly coming from all around her – ‘he raped her’, the officer said.

Cassandra could feel an anger building within her as the suspect was escorted closer. A man who felt he had to hurt those who were weaker simply because he could – a coward. The man turned to look at Cassandra, giving her a menacing smile. She could imagine the terror those eyes, and that smile, caused the poor woman as he first stole her dignity, then her life. A feeling of hopelessness, like the world had abandoned her to die in a cold alley, alone, as a stranger took pleasure from her pain. It had to end.

The man fell to the ground, as Cassandra felt a satisfying throb of pain from her hand and wrist. She had hit him, hard…and now she was watching him bleed in the gutter. Just as he did to her. She wanted to do more to him, leave him a lasting reminder of just what the ‘weak’ he so enjoyed preying upon could do. But as she looked at Tim, she relented – he looked genuinely hurt by the news, as if that anonymous woman lying in the alley were his own family. It would do no good to create more pain. It was time to heal.

 

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PAGE 1
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PANEL 1

Exterior: Female silhouette about the same height as Batgirl (5’5″, for those who missed orientation), wearing her cape and mask, standing over two neighboring gravestones, overgrown with vines. The moon is above (it’s at night, unless the moon started shining during the daytime), filtered through both approaching clouds and trees. The tree branches and Batgirl’s cape are being blown by a stiff wind caused by an approaching storm.
PANEL 2

Exterior: Flash of lightning tearing across the sky. Rain starting to fall in the foreground.
PANEL 3

Exterior: Closer shot behind Batgirl, her head is hung, and you can see two vine-covered gravestones in front of her. The writing on them is obscured by the pouring rain, large drops are bouncing off her leather cape.

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Batgirl): “I AM ALONE.”
PANEL 4

Exterior: Shot from behind the gravestones. You can see them at the bottom part of the panel, Batgirl is standing above them. A “phantom” image of fire surrounds the stones and Batgirl both, as it’s something out of her imagination.

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl): “I AM AN ORPHAN NOW, IN THE TRUEST SENSE. I THOUGHT I WAS GAINING SOME CONTROL OVER MY LIFE. BUT I WAS WRONG. NOW, THEIR GRAVES STAND FOREVER, A TESTEMENT TO MY OWN ARROGANCE AND STUPIDITY.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl): “LONG AFTER I’M GONE…THEY’LL STILL BE HERE. MOCKING MY FUTURE. TARNISHING ANY GOOD I MIGHT DO DURING MY LIFE. MY PAST IS FILLED WITH REGRET–”
PANEL 5

Exterior: Close up facing Batgirl, with the vine covered gravestones fading into the shadows in the background. Large raindrops still pound her, lightning tears through the sky.

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl): “–AND FOR THE SAKE OF MY FUTURE…I MUST NEVER RETURN HERE AGAIN.”

 

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PAGE 2
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PANEL 1

Exterior: Full-page spread, with titles and credits. Side shot of Batgirl standing outside the cemetery, looking up to the top of a tall, gothic-style building across the street. The familiar darkened form of Batman is looking over Batgirl from atop that building. Rain is still pounding, etc, etc.

ISSUE SUB-TITLE: “A Happy Medium”

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Batgirl): “I SEE HIM UP THERE, AND HE KNOWS IT. HE SEEMS TO BE EVERYWHERE I GO.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl): “HE SEES SOMETHING OF HIMSELF IN ME…AND IT’S THE ONE THING IN ME THAT HE DOES NOT TRUST.”

 

——
PAGE 3
——

PANEL 1

Exterior: Night. Elsewhere in Gotham, in a working class but nice neighborhood. Individual houses (which you can see in the background), some townhouses, a few small apartment buildings. Focus is on the corner of an intersection (around 2 neighboring apartment buildings, each 4 floors tall), a older model blue Buick is parked next to the corner, and a nineteen-year old man is standing to the rear of the Buick, illuminated red by it’s left-on lights. The nineteen year old is wearing an oversized jacket with a logo, and is leaning toward an older man threateningly, he’s holding his hands in a “rap-style” arc toward the older man. The older man (about 45 or so) looks angry, but he’s leaning back in response – he feels a little threatened.

19-YEAR OLD 1: “YO! WHY DON’T YOU MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!”
PANEL 2

Exterior: Same scene as last panel, but angle has changed to a shot from behind the 19-year old, toward the older man who is now red-faced and angry. He’s yelling at the 19-year old, but the kid doesn’t seem to care.

OLDER MAN 2: “I HAVE KIDS, YOU LITTLE JERK!”

OLDER MAN 3: “YOU CAN’T STAND HERE ON MY CORNER AND SELL YOUR…YOUR–”

19-YEAR OLD 4: “IT’S A FREE COUNTRY, MAN.”
PANEL 3

Exterior: Same scene, switch the focus to the younger man’s face. He has a smug smile on his face, and he’s now standing closer to the older man (you can see the older man’s head in the foreground). An “over the shoulder” view.

19-YEAR OLD 5: “I CAN SELL WHATEVER I WANT, WHEREVER I WANT. WHATCHA GONNA DO?”
PANEL 4

Exterior: A half-panel will do just fine here, same for the next one. Actions speak louder then words. Close up of the older man’s hands snatching a bag of white powder from the younger man.
PANEL 5

Exterior: Half-panel works great. Close up of a sewer grating, the white bag dropping through to the sewers below the street.
PANEL 6

Exterior: Shouldn’t have done that, buddy. Close-up shot of the older man partially bent over from tossing the bag into the sewer, his face a mask of fear. He now has the ice cold muzzle of a black nine-millimeter Baretta (a gun, in case you didn’t know) pressed against his forehead.

THOUGHT CAPTION 6 (Batgirl, off-panel): “WE ALL DO THINGS IN OUR LIVES WE REGRET. IT’S ALWAYS THE SMALL THINGS–”

 

——
PAGE 4
——

PANEL 1

Exterior: Close up of the younger man’s face. He has a menacing smile, shadows cover his face to make him seem positively e-vil.

19-YEAR OLD 1: “Say good night…chump.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl, off-panel): “–THAT SEEM TO GIVE US THE MOST TROUBLE.”
PANEL 2

Exterior: Aerial shot of the scene. You can see the car, the younger man holding a gun on the older man. A flash is coming from the muzzle of the gun, the sound echoing off the surrounding buildings. BLAM! (the word BLAM is to be written in large type across the top of this and the next 2 panels)

Sfx: BLAM!

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl, off-panel): “EVERY NIGHT IN GOTHAM–”
PANEL 3

Exterior: A small house from the outside, you can see a worried-looking woman closing the drapes quickly. She can hear the gunshot as well. BLAM!

Sfx: BLAM!

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl, off-panel): “–A FAMILY IS DESTROYED BY VIOLENCE.”
PANEL 4

Exterior: Batman standing atop a large building in Gotham, wind blowing his cape. He hears the distant sound of a gunshot, not too far away. His eyes are narrowed. BLAM!

Sfx: BLAM!

THOUGHT CAPTION 5 (Batgirl, off-panel): “MORE KIDS ARE LEFT TO FEND FOR THEMSELVES–”
PANEL 5

Exterior: Back to the ol’ corner again. Shot of the corner, detailed enough to see frightened nearby residents hiding in their homes, the Buick, and see the dead guy fairly clearly. The older man lies bleeding in the gutter, as the blue Buick drives off slowly in the background. His head is shattered, his eyes fixed open.

THOUGHT CAPTION 6 (Batgirl, off-panel): “AND ANOTHER SPOUSE…LOSES HER WILL TO LIVE.”

 

——
PAGE 5
——

PANEL 1

Exterior: The same corner where the shooting occurred in the previous scene, still night. A short amount of time has passed. Probably a couple of hours, since Gotham’s Finest aren’t exactly Gotham’s fastest. The street is crowded with police cars, spotlights are pointed toward a pool of blood in the street, where the man who was shot used to be lying. Crime scene tape is everywhere. News reporters are being held behind a barricade (if you get bored, stick Lois Lane in there). Commissioner Gordon is interviewing an old woman who’s holding a handkerchief.

OLD WOMAN 1: “THIS USED TO BE SUCH A NICE, QUIET NEIGHBORHOOD. BUT LATELY–”

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Gordon): “SHE KNEW THE MAN WHO HAD BEEN SHOT. IT WAS HER SON. I WATCHED HER BREAK DOWN IN FRONT OF MY EYES. I KNEW IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE BATMAN HEARD ABOUT THIS–”
PANEL 2

Exterior: Same scene, new shot from behind Gordon toward the top of a nearby building. A dark silhouette (it’s Batgirl) is standing there, barely moving. You can see the old woman in the background, sobbing into her handkerchief.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Gordon): “–AND DECIDED TO TAKE MATTERS INTO HIS OWN HANDS. IN LIGHT OF WHAT HAPPENED TO MY DAUGHTER, A PART OF ME HOPED BATMAN WOULD FIND THESE PEOPLE–”

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Gordon): “–AND GIVE THEM WHAT THEY DESERVED.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 5 (Gordon): “BUT IT WASN’T BATMAN I COULD SEE UP THERE. IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE.”
PANEL 3

Interior: Gordon is running up a dark staircase, sweat pouring down his forehead.

THOUGHT CAPTION 6 (Gordon): “IN RETROSPECT, IT WASN’T ONE OF MY SMARTEST MOMENTS. ANYONE…ANYTHING COULD HAVE BEEN UP THERE. BUT SOMETIMES, YOU HAVE TO TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS.”
PANEL 4

Exterior: Gordon bursts through the door at the top of the staircase. Around him is nothing but the standard pipes and junk you normally find on the roof of a small apartment building.

THOUGHT CAPTION 7 (Gordon): “STILL, I BEGAN TO FEEL LIKE I WAS WASTING MY TIME.”
PANEL 5

Exterior: Close up of a black gloved finger tapping Gordon on the shoulder. Gordon’s head is turning around to see who’s tapping on him.

THOUGHT CAPTION 8 (Gordon): “AND THEN, JUST LIKE THAT–”
PANEL 6

Exterior: Side shot from just off the edge of the roof. Batgirl and Gordon, facing each other. She’s shaking his hand.

THOUGHT CAPTION 9 (Gordon): “I MET HER.”
PANEL 7

Exterior: Angle from behind Gordon, who is leaning over the edge of the apartment building. He’s watching Batgirl swing away from him on a cable attached to a telephone pole across the street.

THOUGHT CAPTION 10 (Gordon): “JUST A YOUNG WOMAN TRYING TO FOLLOW IN BATMAN’S FOOTSTEPS. JUST LIKE MY DAUGHTER, BARBARA.”

 

——
PAGE 6
——

PANEL 1

Interior: Bruce’s office in the Wayne Mansion. A rather spartan room, just a desk and a couple of chairs – and of course, expensive paintings and occasional medieval armor decoration. On his desk is a fluorescent lamp, a computer in one corner, a writing pad, and a couple of pens. From the computer runs a cord, to a microphone, which Bruce is holding as he leans back in his expensive leather office chair.

Bruce 1: “Record.”

Bruce 2: “CASSANDRA APPEARS TO BE…FEELING…REMOURSE? COULD SHE BE FEELING REGRET OVER WHAT SHE DID TO HER PARENTS?”
PANEL 2

Interior: Faint image of a window with flames coming out, second overlapping picture of him dragging Cassandra out the window, third overlapping picture of Cassandra’s clouded eyes looking up at him. He’s digging through memories of his.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Bruce): “THIS IS BECOMING MORE THEN A LITTLE…FRIGHTENING. THIS YOUNG GIRL IS LIKE A DARK MIRROR OF WHAT I WAS AT HER AGE.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Bruce): “ONLY SHE’S MORE…DRIVEN. MORE–”
PANEL 3

Interior: Side shot as Bruce holds the microphone away from his face. He just spotted a small bat-shaped object on his desk. It’s a little microphone.
PANEL 4

Interior: Shot from the side of Bruce, he’s angrily storming toward the partially open door to the hallway. His left hand is gripping the small bat-device.
PANEL 5

Interior: Bruce has opened the door, Cassandra is standing in front of it. She looks a little sad, her head hangs a little. Bruce looks confused.

Cassandra 5: “YES.”

Bruce 6: “YES, WHAT?”
PANEL 6

Interior: Close-up of Cassandra’s face. A tear is forcing it’s way from one eye.

Cassandra 7: “REGRET. I…FEEL REGRET.”
PANEL 7

Interior: Bruce is standing in front of Cassandra, the view is from behind him. He has a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.

Bruce 8: “CASSANDRA, YOU’VE TAKEN THE FIRST BIG STEP.”

Bruce 9: “YOU WANT TO BE A CRIME FIGHTER? A REAL CRIME FIGHTER, LIKE I AM?”
PANEL 8

Interior: Nearly the same view as the last panel, but Cassandra’s smiling now.

Cassandra 10: “YES.”
PANEL 9

Interior: Bruce slipping past Cassandra through the doorway.

Bruce 11: “MEET ME DOWNSTAIRS. ONE HOUR. IT’S TIME YOU HAD SOME REAL TRAINING.”

 

——
PAGE 7
——

PANEL 1

Interior: Cassandra is standing in a dark hallway, opening a door slowly. The view is a little to her side, so you can see her look of shock and surprise as the bright light from the room streams through the partially open door and across her face. She’s wearing jeans, white sneakers, and a light colored long-sleeved shirt (I usually don’t mention clothes, but in this case it’s important that she’s the most colorful person in the room).
PANEL 2

Interior: Large panel of the inside of Bruce Wayne’s dining room. Cassandra is standing in the doorway to the rear of the room, to give you the impression that she’s dwarfed by the size of the enormous room. The room is now empty of furniture, except for a chair. A white rectangular mat covers most of the floor from the center out. Bruce is sitting in the chair at one end of the mat, dressed all in black, on the same side of the room where Cassandra is entering through the door. A tall, obviously strong man wearing a white Karate robe and bare feet is standing at the other end of the mat, his arms folded.
PANEL 3

Interior: Partial shot of the room, covering only the area where Bruce and Cassandra are located. Bruce is smiling in reaction to Cassandra’s confusion, as he’s sitting in the chair in the foreground. He seems a little amused by the whole thing. Cassandra is standing directly behind the chair, still looking a little confused.

BRUCE 1: “WELCOME TO YOUR TRAINING LESSON, CASSANDRA. THIS MAN, A FRIEND OF MINE, IS A BLACK BELT IN KARATE.”
PANEL 4

Interior: Quick view of the stranger in the robe, hands held together palm to palm, bowing slightly.
PANEL 5

Interior: Close-up of Cassandra returning the bow, same pose as the stranger used. Polite, isn’t she?

BRUCE (Off-panel) 2: “YOUR OBJECTIVE IS TO TAKE HIM DOWN WITHOUT SERIOUSLY HURTING HIM, AND LEARN HIS NAME…IF HE DOESN’T TAKE YOU DOWN FIRST.”

BRUCE (Off-panel) 3: “MY ROLE IN THIS IS TO INTERFERE WITH YOU AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE.”
PANEL 6

Interior: Close-up of Bruce rising to his feet, shoving the chair aside quickly.

BRUCE 4: “GOOD LUCK, CASSANDRA.”
——
PAGE 8
——

PANEL 1

Interior: Close-up of Cassandra ducking to the side quickly, the stranger’s bare foot passing only inches from her face.

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Cassandra): “I WAS NEARLY CAUGHT OFF GUARD WHILE WAITING FOR SOME KIND OF SIGNAL FROM BRUCE THAT THE TRAINING EXCERSIZE HAD BEGUN.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Cassandra): “I MUST HAVE MISSED IT.”
PANEL 2

Interior: Cassandra tackling the strange man to the white mat, holding him down by his shoulders. You can see Bruce approaching in the background.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Cassandra): “I QUICKLY LEARNED THAT TWO WELL-TRAINED MEN AGAINST ONE FIVE AND A HALF FOOT TALL WOMAN–”
PANEL 3

Interior: Cassandra being tossed aside by the robed man. You can see her eyes looking toward Bruce, who’s reaching for her feet.

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Cassandra): “–MEANT THAT I WAS SERIOUSLY OUTCLASSED.”
PANEL 4

Interior: Cassandra is getting up slowly. You can see Bruce at one end of the panel, heading toward her menacingly. At the other end, the strange man is heading toward her menacingly. She’s about to be caught in the middle. But her eyes are watching a chair at one end of the mat (it was there all along). The look on Cassandra’s face is determination, but not anger.

THOUGHT CAPTION 5 (Cassandra): “BUT WHAT I LACK IN STRENGTH–”
——
PAGE 9
——

PANEL 1

Interior: Cassandra is rolled into a ball, her arms holding her legs against her chest. She’s tumbling right past Bruce, who’s reaching for her in futility.

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Cassandra): “–I MAKE UP FOR–”
PANEL 2

Interior: Cassandra’s hands are holding the front legs of the chair. She’s leaning it over her, and Bruce is colliding with the chair’s back. His feet are off the floor, the chair’s back is tossing him over it.

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Cassandra): “–WITH INGENUITY.”
PANEL 3

Interior: Bruce is laying at one end of the mat on the floor in the background. Cassandra is hitting the strange man in the face with the chair, causing two of the legs to break off. The strange man is leaning away from her, losing his balance.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Cassandra): “AND SO THE TABLES WERE TURNED.”
PANEL 4

Interior: Cassandra has folded the heavy white mat over the strange man, to prevent him from getting up. She’s sitting on top of the folded mat to add extra weight on top of him, just in case. She’s holding a handful of his hair tightly, pulling it. You can see the pain on his face. You can see Bruce in the background, sneaking toward Cassandra.

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Cassandra): “I WAS IN CONTROL.”

CASSANDRA 5: “NAME?”

STRANGER 6: “M-MASTER SAN.”
PANEL 5

Interior: Closer look at the man’s face, Cassandra twists the handful of hair some more.

THOUGHT CAPTION 7 (Cassandra): “IT DIDN’T TAKE THE WORLD’S GREATEST DETECTIVE TO TELL THAT HE WAS LYING.”

CASSANDRA 8: “NAME?”

STRANGER 9: “GO…TO HELL.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 10 (Cassandra): “BUT I WOUDLN’T LET THAT BOTHER ME.”
PANEL 6

Interior: Cassandra saw Bruce approaching out of the corner of her eye. She’s still pinning the stranger, but her eyes are turned toward Bruce, and her right foot is planted firmly in his stomach.

THOUGHT CAPTION 11 (Cassandra): “BECAUSE I KNEW…DEEP DOWN–”
PANEL 7

Interior: Cassandra has a hand on the stranger’s throat now. Bruce is in the background, trying to catch his breath.

THOUGHT CAPTION 12 (Cassandra): “–THAT I HAD ALREADY BEATEN THEM.”

BRUCE 13: “CASSANDRA…STOP! HIS NAME IS BOB SAMPSON.”

 

——-
PAGE 10
——-

PANEL 1

Interior: Half panel. Cassandra is standing up. She has removed the white mat from on top of Bob Sampson, and is offering him a hand. She’s smiling, full of pride over what she’s done.
PANEL 2

Interior: Half panel. Side shot. Bob stands up, frowning at Cassandra’s attempt at politeness. You can now see that he’s bruised up a bit, and his nose is bleeding.
PANEL 3

Interior: Shot from behind Cassandra, she’s looking at Bruce and Bob. Bruce and Bob look at each other seriously. Cassandra is still smiling.
PANEL 4

Interior: Cassandra is now frowning, as the two men behind laughing heartily. She’s not sure if they’re laughing at her or at something else.
PANEL 5

Interior: Shot from behind Bruce, so you can see Cassandra’s face. Bruce is standing in front of Cassandra, one hand on her shoulder. She’s looking up at him, their eyes meet. She’s still partially frowning.

BRUCE 1: “I’M SORRY, CASSANDRA. WE CAN’T BELIEVE YOU BEAT THAT EXCERCISE SO EASILY.”

BRUCE 2: “TIM HAD TROUBLE WITH IT…SO DID BARBARA.”
PANEL 6

Interior: Reverse of last panel. Shot from behind Cassandra, so you can see Bruce’s smiling face.

BRUCE 3: “CONGRATULATIONS. YOU’RE THE FIRST PERSON WHO MANAGED TO LEARN BOB’S NAME.”
PANEL 7

Interior: Close-up of Cassandra’s face. She seems happy now. Poor Cassandra doesn’t receive praise all that often.

BRUCE (Off-panel) 4: “CASSANDRA…YOU’RE READY.”

 

——-
PAGE 11
——-

PANEL 1

Exterior: Night. Street-level view. The same street corner where the shooting occurred earlier in the story. The same blue Buick is pulling up to the corner, the same 19-year old inside. You can see frightened residents in the background racing for their homes, closing their blinds.

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Batgirl, off-panel): “THIS IS A CORNER STILL STAINED WITH BLOOD.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl, off-panel): “THE BLOOD OF AN INNOCENT.”
PANEL 2

Exterior: High street-level shot. The 19-year old gets out of his car and looks at a an apartment nearby. He now has a cigarette in his mouth, and is carelessly flinging the match to a nicely mowed strip of grass. He can see two eyes peering at him through closed venetian blinds, and he’s smiling with self-contentment.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl, off-panel): “AND YET HE RETURNS TO THE SCENE OF THE CRIME. HE DOESN’T FEAR ANYONE, EVEN THE POLICE.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl, off-panel): “TO HIM, WE’RE ALL THE SAME. ALL PAWNS IN SOME GAME. COPS, HEROES…WE ALL DIE JUST AS EASILY TO HIM.”
PANEL 3

Exterior: Another car drives up in the opposite direction that the blue Buick is parked. The view is along a “tunnel” between the two cars, where the 19-year old is leaning toward the driver’s side of the recently arrived car.

19-YEAR OLD 5: “GOT THE MONEY?”

MAN INSIDE CAR 6: “FRANK, I–”

19-YEAR OLD 7: “DON’T CALL ME THAT, DEADBEAT.”
PANEL 4

Exterior: Close-up of Frank’s (the 19-year old) face. The “camera” is pointing at him from inside the newly arrived car’s passenger seat, so you can see Frank flick his cigarette at the driver.

19-YEAR OLD 8: “YOU KNOW WHAT I DO TO DEADBEATS?”

MAN INSIDE CAR 9: “DON’T…PLEASE–”

THOUGHT CAPTION 10 (Batgirl, off-panel): “I WASN’T GOING TO LET HIM KILL ON MY WATCH.”
PANEL 5

Exterior: Half panel, close side shot between the two cars. Close-up of the 19-year old pressing his gun against the head of the man inside the car. The man is crying, his eyes are tightly pressed closed. The trigger on the gun is partly pulled back by the 19-year old’s finger.
PANEL 6

Exterior: Half-panel, close-up of the 19-year old’s hand, his fingers spread out. The gun is out of his hand, and a small bat-wing is airborne.

19-YEAR OLD (Off panel) 1: “WHAT THE–”

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl, off-panel): “NOT TONIGHT.”
PANEL 7

Exterior: Close shot. The 19-year old is bending down to pick up his gun. His head is jerked to the side, spit and blood are coming from his nose and mouth as a small black-gloved fist has just hit him, hard.
PANEL 8

Exterior: Shot from behind Batgirl, as she looks over the 19-year old. You can see the 19-year old within her reach, propping himself up on his hands and smiling at her. He doesn’t see her as a threat.
PANEL 9

Exterior: Still a shot from behind Batgirl, only angled so you can more clearly see that she now has her boot firmly pressing into the 19-year old’s shoulder. She’s intent on keeping him down – and now she’s the one smiling.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl): “STOPPING HIM SEEMED EASY ENOUGH–”
PANEL 10

Exterior: Shot from behind Batgirl as she turns her head to look at the blue Buick. The doors are all open now, three more thugs are climbing out armed with guns of their own.

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl): “BUT THEN THINGS BECAME…COMPLICATED.”

 

——-
PAGE 12
——-

PANEL 1

Exterior: Wide shot facing front of the 19-year old’s car. All of it’s doors are open, the headlights are on – and Batgirl is standing at the ready in the center of the frame. She’s facing the car, away from the camera shot. The 19-year old is propping himself up on the ground below her, and the three thugs are heading toward her slowly – all carrying nine millimeter pistols.

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Batgirl): “I COULD HAVE EASILY DISARMED THEM…BUT NOT BEFORE THEY KILLED AN INNOCENT.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl): “I MAY BE FAST. BUT NOT FASTER THEN A BULLET.”
PANEL 2

Exterior: Camera shot alongside Batgirl’s arm, toward the top of a building just above her. She’s firing a cable launcher toward the roof, preparing to make a quick escape.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl): “IT WAS TIME TO PLAY IT SAFE.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl): “TO DRAW THEIR ATTENTION…ELSEWHERE.”
PANEL 3

Exterior: Batgirl is now standing on the roof of the building, crouched down. View angle is from behind her, so we can see down to the street level. The three thugs are rushing into the building, guns drawn, headed up toward the roof.

THOUGHT CAPTION 5 (Batgirl): “THEY WOULD HAVE TO COME UP HERE TO GET ME…WHERE I HAVE THE ELEMENT OF SUPRISE.”
PANEL 4

Exterior: Batgirl is now standing on top of the shack which covers the stairway to the roof, allowing access through a door on one side. She’s hidden in shadow, but you can see that she’s there, standing at the ready.

THOUGHT CAPTION 6 (Batgirl): “THUGS CAN BE SO PREDICTABLE SOMETIMES.”
PANEL 5

Exterior: The thugs are now out on the roof, looking for her – but they don’t look behind them and up. Batgirl is leaping into the air, intent on crashing through them feet-first. Camera angle is from behind Batgirl, so you can clearly see her descending upon them.

 

——-
PAGE 13
——-

(Note: The first 4 panels of this page are quick-action panels, so they’re small in size.)

PANEL 1

Exterior: Floor-angle shot of one of the thugs lying on his stomach, reaching for his gun, which is on the gravel rooftop. One hand is reaching for a pistol, while Batgirl’s black-gloved fist punches him in the side of the face. His eyes are wide and filled with pain, blood is spattering from his mouth.

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Batgirl): “AND JUST AS I PREDICTED–”
PANEL 2

Exterior: Another man, his hand reaching for his gun, one of Batgirl’s boots squashing his face between it and the gravel rooftop.

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl): “–IT WAS ALL OVER–”
PANEL 3

Exterior: One man is charging Batgirl, anger in his eyes, and his mouth yelling something silent. Don’t even bother to give him a speech balloon, it doesn’t matter what he’s saying, and it’s probably not CCA compliant anyhow. You can see Batgirl’s back as he’s approaching her.
PANEL 4

Exterior: Angle from Batgirl’s side. She has stepped aside just in time for the man charging her to go right by. She is gripping his shirt with both hands tightly, swinging him around to use his momentum to move him far away from her.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl): “–BEFORE IT HAD BEGUN.”
PANEL 5

Exterior: Wide view from behind Batgirl. She’s watching the man she just swung around herself as he loses his balance and falls off the edge of the roof. His body is bent over the edge of the roof, his foot trying desperately to grip the edge…but it’s not enough.

(Note: Next three panels are quick-action panels, with a large letter bloodcurdling scream written across the top of them. It’s the scream of the man who had just fallen off the roof.)

Sfx: YAAHHHH!!!
PANEL 6

Exterior: Quick view of Batgirl’s cold-looking eyes.
PANEL 7

Exterior: Quick view of the remaining thugs, in the middle of picking themselves up. They’re frozen with fear, their eyes mirroring that. They didn’t expect a super-hero to kill one of them.
PANEL 8

Exterior: The thugs crowding into the doorway to the stairs, desperate to escape Batgirl.

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl): “THEY’RE COMMON THUGS–”
PANEL 9

Exterior: View over Batgirl’s shoulder, as she notices that the thugs left all of their weapons behind.

THOUGHT CAPTION 5 (Batgirl): “–WITH NO RESPECT FOR LIFE–”
PANEL 10

Exterior: Another view over Batgirl’s shoulder. She’s looking over the edge of the roof at the man who fell, his broken and bloody body lying on a pile of garbage in the alley below.
PANEL 11

Exterior: View from the alley below, from the dying man’s point of view. He can see faintly see Batgirl looking over the edge of the roof at him.

THOUGHT CAPTION 6 (Batgirl): “–UNLIKE ME.”
——-
PAGE 14
——-

PANEL 1

Exterior: Batgirl is using her cape, spread out to glide to the alley below quickly.

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Batgirl): “EVERY LOOK INTO THE EYES OF A DYING MAN?”
PANEL 2

Exterior: She lands hard. You can tell because her cape is still spread, but her landing places her with one boot on the ground, and one knee. She’s learned to ‘collapse her legs’ to absorb impact of large falls. You can see the man’s broken body in the foreground, Batgirl directly behind him.

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl): “IT’S SOMETHING YOU SEE ONCE–”
PANEL 3

Exterior: Front view of Batgirl as she is standing up, her head looking up at a apartment’s window just above her. She can see a phone just inside the window.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl): “–AND LIVE WITH FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.”
PANEL 4

Interior: View from inside the apartment, facing toward the window. Batgirl’s gloved hand is reaching in, dialing 911 on an old bell-style phone. The handset is lying on the floor.

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl): “BRUCE’S NUMBER ONE RULE WAS TO ALWAYS AVOID DETECTION.”
PANEL 5

Exterior: Close up shot of Batgirl taking the dying man’s hand. You can see her bending down in the background, but you can’t see her face or the dying man’s.

THOUGHT CAPTION 5 (Batgirl): “TO HECK WITH RULES.”

 

——-
PAGE 15
——-

PANEL 1

Exterior: Side shot of Batgirl kneeling next to the dying man, clutching his hand tightly against her chest. Her head is bowed, keeping her eyes on him at all times. The man is unconscious, he doesn’t respond.
PANEL 2

Exterior: Shot from outside the alley. People are slowly approaching, as they can see the spectacle of Batgirl holding this man’s hand.

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Batgirl): “I HAD TO STAY–”
PANEL 3

Exterior: Wide shot from inside the alley. You can see the crowd gathering outside the alley, and a police car has just driven up.

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl): “–BECAUSE I WASN’T JUST SAVING HIS LIFE–”
PANEL 4

Exterior: Bird’s eye view of the whole scene, from atop the building…Or perhaps a Bat’s eye view? Police car and crowd outside the alley, Batgirl kneeling over the dying man inside the alley.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl): “–I WAS SAVING MY OWN SOUL.”

 

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PAGE 16
——-

PANEL 1

Interior: Overhead view of Bruce Wayne’s in-home office. Bruce is sitting at his desk, Cassandra is standing in front of the desk, avoiding Bruce’s gaze.

BRUCE 1: “THEY COULD HAVE ARRESTED YOU, CASSANDRA. THEY COULD HAVE DISCOVERED YOUR IDENTITY.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl): “BRUCE WAS UPSET THAT I BROKE ONE OF HIS ‘RULES’.”
PANEL 2

Interior: Bruce is now pacing the room. The view is over his shoulder as he paces, you can see Cassandra standing several feet away, her eyes following Bruce. Her expression is blank, giving no clue to her thoughts

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl): “BUT BRUCE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND ME. HE NEVER DID.”
PANEL 3

Interior: Close up of Cassandra, her expression now a sad frown. She’s looking downward, toward the floor, her eyes partially closed. Ghosted behind the image of her is what she’s remembering: The dying man from the previous scene, being loaded into an ambulance. You can see the man’s eyes looking at you, they have a grateful but confused look to them.

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl): “HE NEVER WILL.”

BRUCE (Off-panel) 5: “What’s wrong?”
PANEL 4

Interior: Side shot of Bruce towering over Cassandra. She’s looking up at him, as though trying to communicate something with him. Her eyes are beginning to tear. Ghosted between them is an image of the dying man’s eyes again.

BRUCE 6: “Are you okay, Cassandra? Do you feel sick?”

THOUGHT CAPTION 7 (Batgirl): “I WANTED SO BADLY TO SHOW HIM WHAT I FELT, WHAT I’D SEEN. THE LOOK IN THE MAN’S EYES WHEN HE REALIZED I’D SAVED HIM.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 8 (Batgirl): “I FELT LIKE A HERO…YET BRUCE WANTS ME TO FEEL SHAME.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 9 (Batgirl): “SHAME FOR FEELING SOMETHING FOR PEOPLE…FOR CARING.”
PANEL 5

Interior: Side view Close-up of Cassandra’s face. Bruce’s shadow is cast across her face so you know he’s still there. It also emphasizes the fact that she always feels like she’s in his shadow. Get it? This isn’t just any other dialogue, it’s a breakthrough.

CASSANDRA 10: “I CARE.”

BRUCE 11: “YOU CARE? ABOUT WHAT?”

CASSANDRA 12: “PEOPLE. MY WORK.”
PANEL 6

Interior: View from behind Bruce, over his shoulder. He’s still standing over Cassandra, casting a shadow over her.

BRUCE 13: “I UNDERSTAND. YOU’RE LETTING YOUR FEELINGS GET INVOLVED WITH YOUR WORK.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 14 (Batgirl): “ONE OF HIS CARDINAL RULES HAD BEEN VIOLATED.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 15 (Batgirl): “NEVER BECOME INVOLVED. REFER TO EVERYONE AS ‘THE VICTIM’, OR ‘THE PERPETRATOR'”

THOUGHT CAPTION 16 (Batgirl): “BUT THOSE PEOPLE HAVE NAMES. THEY HAVE LIVES…AND DREAMS.”
PANEL 7

Interior: Side view of Cassandra, in mirror to the previous side view (for variety, and if you line up all of the panels on this page it gives the illusion of a camera panning around the perimeter of the room). The shadow is still cast over her, but now Bruce’s hand is gently holding up Cassandra’s chin as she stares at him defiantly but sadly.

THOUGHT CAPTION 17 (Batgirl): “I EXPECTED THE LECTURE. I HAD PREPARED MYSELF FOR IT–”

BRUCE 18: “CASSANDRA, YOU’RE NOT THE SAME AS I AM. YOU WORK DIFFERENTLY. IF YOU HANDLE YOUR EMOTIONS BETTER THEN I DO…SO BE IT.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 19 (Batgirl): “HUH?”

 

——-
PAGE 17
——-

PANEL 1

Interior: View into Cassandra’s eyes, Bruce’s shadow still over her. Her eyes light up as Bruce continues complimenting her progress.

BRUCE 1: “YOU DO VERY WELL AS BATGIRL, CASSANDRA. YOU HAVE THE COURAGE TO DO THINGS I NEVER COULD DO–”

BRUCE 2: “–AND WHILE BATMAN IS FEARED BY EVERYONE…PEOPLE SEEM TO LIKE BATGIRL.”
PANEL 2

Interior: View between Cassandra and Bruce, toward the door to the room. They’re both looking toward the door. Standing in the doorway is Alfred.

ALFRED 3: “DINNER IS SERVED, MISS CASSANDRA. MASTER BRUCE.”
PANEL 3

Interior: Bruce, is still standing where he was, Alfred is still standing where he was (in the doorway). Cassandra is slipping past Alfred into the hallway, headed toward the dining room. View is up to the artist to decide.
PANEL 4

Interior: Bruce is now standing closer to Alfred, who’s still in the doorway. They’re looking at each other, and Bruce is smiling as if they have a secret between them.
PANEL 5

Interior: Alfred is standing in the doorway as Bruce walks past him into the hallway.

ALFRED 4: “EXCELLENT, MASTER BRUCE. YOU GAVE HER MY SPEECH NEARLY WORD FOR WORD.”
PANEL 6

Interior: View from down the hall, Bruce is approaching the “camera”. He’s shaking his head, but his eyes say that he’s trying not to laugh. Alfred is walking behind him, with an amused smile on his face.

 

——-
PAGE 18
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PANEL 1

Interior: Overhead view of Bruce Wayne’s office. His sitting at the desk in the nearly dark office, lit only by a computer screen. He’s holding up a microphone.

BRUCE 1: “Record.”

BRUCE 2: “CASSANDRA APPEARS UNABLE TO SUPPRESS HER EMOTIONS AS BATGIRL, TO SEPERATE HERSELF FROM HER WORK.”

BRUCE 3: “BUT IT’S NOT AS BAD AS IT SOUNDS…HER FEELINGS SEEM TO AUGMENT HER INSTINCTS AND SKILLS SOMEHOW.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Cassandra, off-panel): “EVERY NIGHT HE WOULD LOCK HIMSELF IN HIS OFFICE AND TALK TO HIMSELF ABOUT ME FOR A HALF HOUR OR SO.”
PANEL 2

Interior: View from just in front of the desk. Bruce is now leaning back a little in his chair, holding the microphone just in front of his chin.

BRUCE 5: “THE FACT THAT SHE’S ALMOST AS GOOD AS I AM AT THIS…AND IN SOME WAYS BETTER…IT MAKES ME START TO…RETHINK MY OWN METHODS.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 6 (Cassandra, off-panel): “HIS OWN APPROACH TO HIS WORK IS TO BE AS SCIENTIFIC AND ANALYTICAL AS POSSIBLE. MY OWN STYLE IS MORE…CHAOTIC.”
PANEL 3

Interior: View from the side of the desk. You can see a dark form of Cassandra in the background, but Bruce hasn’t noticed yet.

BRUCE 7: “SHE’S A LOT LIKE ME, BUT NOTHING LIKE ME AS WELL. I’D FIGURED OUT DICK AND TIM QUICKLY…EVEN BARBARA DIDN’T TAKE THIS LONG TO FIGURE OUT.”

BRUCE 8: “CASSANDRA’S A MYSTERY TO ME–”
PANEL 4

Interior: Close-up of Bruce’s nose and mouth, with light from the computer screen streaked across. The microphone is just below his mouth.

BRUCE 9: “AND LIKE EVERY GOOD DETECTIVE, I FEEL I MUST SOLVE THIS MYSTERY.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 10 (Cassandra, off-panel): “HE SPENT A LOT OF TIME TALKING ABOUT ME. EITHER HE SAW ME AS A THREAT–”
PANEL 5

Interior: View from the side of Bruce’s head, toward the spot where the dark shadow of Cassandra was standing. Bruce is looking toward the spot. He just noticed her.

BRUCE 11: “I KNOW YOU’RE HERE, CASSANDRA. COME ON OUT.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 12 (Cassandra, off panel): “–OR HE WAS WORRIED SICK ABOUT ME.”
PANEL 6

Interior: Small panel of Bruce’s hand reaching for the switch on his desk lamp.
PANEL 7

Interior: Overhead view. Bruce is now standing up behind his desk, microphone still in hand. The office is filled with light, and he sees that he’s the only one in the room. Cassandra’s gone.

BRUCE 13: “Clever. Very clever.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 14 (Cassandra, off panel): “ONLY TIME WOULD TELL.”

 

——-
PAGE 19
——-

PANEL 1

Exterior: Batgirl is standing atop that same ol’ apartment building next to the same ol’ corner again. You know, the one where she kicked some butt the last time out. The view is from behind her and angled downward as she’s crouched down on top of the roof, watching over the street below. Not a soul is out there but her.

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Batgirl): “SEEING THIS PLACE MAKES ME SAD. THIS NEIGHBORHOOD USED TO BE SO ALIVE.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl): “CHILDREN USED TO PLAY IN THE STREETS AT NIGHT. PARENTS WOULD SIT ON THEIR PORCHES, HAVING TO WORRY ONLY ABOUT MOSQUITO BITES.”
PANEL 2

Exterior: Close-up view of an old woman twisting closed the venetian blinds covering the inside of her window.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl): “BUT SOMETHING CHANGED. THIS PLACE WAS NOW RULED BY FEAR, WHERE PEOPLE HIDE BEHIND CLOSED BLINDS AND LOCKED DOORS.”
PANEL 3

Exterior: Ground-level view of the same ol’ blue Buick driving up to the corner, again. These idiots never learn, do they?

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl): “FEAR CREATED BY COWARDS. PEOPLE WHO ABUSE THEIR POWER, AND PREY ON THE WEAK FOR THEIR OWN ENTERTAINMENT.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 5 (Batgirl): “IT TAKES REAL POWER TO PROTECT THE WEAK. TO CARE–”
PANEL 4

Exterior: View from in front of Batgirl as she’s crouching next to the roof’s edge, the light from the street below shining on her dark costume. A familiar shadow is looming behind her – Batman. Batgirl knows who it is, she’s not even reacting to his presence right away.
PANEL 5

Exterior: Batgirl is now standing on her feet, looking up at Batman. Her body language telegraphs the fear that Batman will send her home.

THOUGHT CAPTION 6 (Batgirl): “I KNEW I WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE…BUT SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO DO WHAT YOU FEEL YOU NEED TO.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 7 (Batgirl): “BUT NOW THAT HE HAD FOUND ME, I WAS SURE HE WOULD SEND ME HOME…TO LEAVE THESE PEOPLE UNPROTECTED.”

BATMAN 8: “SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO FOLLOW YOUR FEELINGS. LET’S GO, YOUR LEAD.”
PANEL 6

Exterior: View is from just in front of Batgirl as she jumps off the edge of the building, her cape billowing out since she’s using it as a parachute. She’s smiling a little, has a little mischief in her eyes. You can see Batman’s dark form on the roof just behind her.

THOUGHT CAPTION 9 (Batgirl): “WHY HE WAS SO RESONABLE THAT NIGHT–”

THOUGHT CAPTION 10 (Batgirl): “I WOULD NEVER KNOW.”

 

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PAGE 20
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PANEL 1

Exterior: View from the ground. The 19-year-old who’s obviously too stupid to be alive is standing next to his car (the door’s open, because he just stepped out) looking upward, watching Batgirl diving toward him feet first. He’s pulling a pistol from his jacket.

19-YEAR-OLD 1: “WHAT THE–”

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl): “SOME PEOPLE JUST DON’T LEARN–”
PANEL 2

Exterior: Close up view of Batgirl’s boots having a short and painful meeting with the 19-year-old’s face.
PANEL 3

Exterior: Close up of the 19-year-old’s face bloodied, hitting the sidewalk at an awkward and painful angle.
PANEL 4

Exterior: Close up of the 19-year-old’s face, bloodied, with blood dripping out of his mouth. He still has a defiant look in his eyes.

19-YEAR OLD 3: “YOU’RE GONNA PAY FOR THAT!”
PANEL 5

Exterior: Slightly less close up shot of the 19-year-old. His eyes are now looking up, and are filled with fear. The large shadow of Batman is looming over him.

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl): “–NO MATTER THE TEACHER.”
PANEL 6

Exterior: Close up of Batman’s gloved hand snatching the 19-year-old by his shirt, lifting him abruptly. You can see his head jerk back from being unexpectedly yanked off the ground.

THOUGHT CAPTION 5 (Batgirl): “THEN AGAIN, SOME TEACHERS–”
PANEL 7

Exterior: Side shot of Batman holding the 19-year-old’s face only inches from his own. At the bottom of the panel, you can see his hand still holding the guy’s shirt.

BATMAN 6: “I’LL BE WATCHING YOU.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 7 (Batgirl): “–ARE MUCH MORE–

PANEL 8

Exterior: Close up of Batman’s hand smashing the guy’s head through his own car window. You can see the pain on the guy’s face.

THOUGHT CAPTION 8 (Batgirl): “EFFECTIVE.”
PANEL 9

Exterior: View from close to the ground. You can see the 19-year-old slumped next to his car, beads of safety glass all around him. His eyes look dazed. You can see Batman’s boots and the bottom of his cape heading away from the area.

THOUGHT CAPTION 9 (Batgirl): “ONLY WHERE THERE WAS ONCE CALL FOR VIOLENCE–”

 

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PAGE 21
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PANEL 1

Exterior: Shot of the man slumped down still, but his eyes are now fearful, and he’s holding his arms in front of him for defense. The shadow of Batgirl is cast over him.

THOUGHT CAPTION 1 (Batgirl): “–THERE IS NOW CALL FOR COMPASSION.”
PANEL 2

Exterior: Side shot of Batgirl standing in front of the man as he continues holding his defensive pose – only his eyes are no longer fearful. She’s holding her hand out to him, offering to help him to his feet.
PANEL 3

Exterior: The 19-year old is now on his feet, leaning against the car’s rear door. Batgirl is holding open the driver’s door and pointing down the street insistently.

THOUGHT CAPTION 2 (Batgirl): “TOO MUCH VIOLENCE IS NOT A GOOD THING–”
PANEL 4

Exterior: View from the front of the car. You can see the 19-year old in the driver’s seat, the car’s headlights are on. Batgirl is standing next to the car, watching.

THOUGHT CAPTION 3 (Batgirl): “–BUT NEITHER IS TOO MUCH COMPASSION.”
PANEL 5

Exterior: View from above. You can see Batman in the foreground, looking down at the scene as the car is heading up the street away from Batgirl.

THOUGHT CAPTION 4 (Batgirl): “WHAT WE EACH LOOK FOR IN LIFE–”
PANEL 6

Exterior: Wider shot from above. A few doors on the street are open, people are outside. Two people are shaking Batgirl’s gloved hands. They all seem happy that their neighborhood has been saved. Batman is still on the roof above, talking to himself.

BATMAN 5: “Amazing. Simply amazing.”

THOUGHT CAPTION 6 (Batgirl): “–IS A HAPPY MEDIUM.”

 

A dark female form stood over two neighboring graves, he cape and her head both drooped down, motionless. The only witnesses were the moon and the birds as the form heeded neither the sounds of the night nor the stiff wind caused by an approaching storm. Even a sudden flash of lightning did nothing to capture her attention.

Batgirl stood in front of those two gravestones even as rain began pelting her costume mercilessly. She stood, eyes closed, trying to fight back tears which were trying to force their way through. She had to keep control of her feelings. She had to face her fears.

As she opened her eyes to look at the two graves once again, her feelings of regret and inward turned anger gave way to a wave of loneliness. She knew was an orphan now, and had no close friends to share her thoughts with. Her mind looked back at her thoughts before she set that fateful fire – for some reason, at the time, she thought she would finally gain some control over her life. She was wrong.

Her parents’ graves would stand forever, an eternal monument to her arrogance, and her stupidity. She had taken their lives without a second thought as to how it would affect anyone besides herself. The two gravestones would stand for centuries, mocking her and every one of her future descendents. No matter what she could possibly do to try to redeem herself, it would never be remembered as long.

Batgirl turned away from the graves as she hung her head and walked back toward the cemetery’s entrance. As she paused to take one more look at the two graves, she decided – for the sake of her future, she would never return here again.

As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, she glanced upward toward the roof of a nearby building. She knew Batman was there, watching over her. But that didn’t upset her. She knew he watched over her because he saw something of himself in her – and she knew that was the one thing he didn’t trust.

“Yo! Why don’t you mind your own damn business!” The man who uttered those words in a threatening tone couldn’t have been more then nineteen years old – and yet he had the courage to talk that way to a forty-five year old father of two who politely asked him to move somewhere else.

“I have kids, you little jerk!” The older man’s face began turning red as he screamed at the younger man in torn jeans and an oversized jacket. “You can’t stand here on my corner and sell your…your–”

“It’s a free country, man”, the younger man said as he stepped closer to the older man, “I can sell whatever I want, wherever I want. Whatcha gonna do?”

The older man frowned as he snatched the plastic bag the younger man held and threw it into the sewer. Feeling proud of himself, he stood once again to face the younger man. He thought he had prevailed.

He was wrong.

As he stood up, his forehead met the cold steel muzzle at the end of a stolen nine millimeter Baretta. He froze, trying to think of a way he could plead his way out of this. He quickly contemplated begging for his life, offering to go down into the sewer, anything to take back the last ten seconds.

“Say good night, chump.”

Three flashes of the muzzle blast filled the streets as the accompanying sharp, loud snaps echoed off seemingly every building in Gotham City. Seconds was all it took for three hunks of lead, each only nine millimeters across, to tear their way through the older man’s brain.

As the older man’s shattered skull hit the concrete sidewalk, the younger man calmly climbed into the driver’s side of his old blue Buick and drove away. He gave no thought to the older man’s two children, or the fact that he was the only source of income for his family. He gave no thought to the fact that somewhere on that street, two children’s hearts had been broken, and the woman who was his wife had just lost her will to live.

“This used to be such a nice, quiet neighborhood. But lately–” An old woman cut off her sentence as she quickly removed a handkerchief from her purse and resumed her sobbing. She knew the man who had been shot. He was her son.

Commissioner Gordon frowned and stared up at the top of a nearby apartment building as the old woman’s words echoed in his mind. He knew what those words meant – sooner or later, Batman would hear about it – and play vigilante in this neighborhood. He immediately closed his eyes and looked down at his boots as a painful image overwhelmed him – His daughter lying in the hospital, paralyzed. He half hoped Batman would give the shooter exactly what he deserved. Both of them.

As Gordon looked back up to the top of the building again, he noticed a dark, caped form standing atop the roof. But something about this form was…different. It was smaller then Batman. And female? Gordon squinted a little as he tried to concentrate. Another Batgirl? A villain?

“Who in heck…?” Without another word, Gordon slipped away from the police units nearby and headed into the building. Pure adrenaline powered his trip up four floors to the roof, a trip he would never have thought he could make on his own without taking a break. He burst through the door only to see…nothing.

Gordon sighed as he turned slowly toward the stairs. He felt a little…rejected. Batman never ran from him – he would always stand his ground and give Gordon a chance to explain himself. He froze in mid-stride as he felt a tap on his shoulder from behind. Gordon turned slowly, expecting to see someone holding a weapon on him – but instead, it was a young woman, shorter then himself, wearing a dark bat costume. It was Batgirl.

He froze as he stared into her dark, intense, unwavering gaze. She seemed to hypnotize him with her eyes as he stood frozen, not sure what to make of her. Not sure if she was friend or foe, or what she was capable of.

Then she smiled. A warm smile, accompanied by her holding out her gloved hand in an attempt to shake Gordon’s hand. He slowly extended his own hand, and shook hers slowly.

Still smiling, Batgirl took a couple of steps away from Gordon and removed a cable launcher from her belt. She gave him a thumbs-up sign just before she launched the cable – and was gone in seconds.

Gordon smiled to himself as he watched Batgirl disappear off into the darkness. She was no danger, she was just a sweet young woman trying to follow in Batman’s footsteps, in search of justice. Just like his daughter, Barbara.

“Record.”

Bruce didn’t even wait until he was completely seated at his desk before he activated the recording system. His mind was racing over what he saw, and he had to run through his thoughts to make some sense out of them.

“Cassandra appears to be…feeling remorse? Could she be feeling regret at killing her parents?”

He rubbed his chin briefly as he recalled the scene at Cassandra’s house during her rescue. The whole house was going up in flames, no hope to save anyone. He spotted a shadow in the window – a young woman trying to escape the searing heat of the fire closing in on her. He remembered grabbing her quickly, pulling her out of the window…and watching her promptly lose consciousness from the smoke inhalation.

“This is becoming rather…frightening, even for me. This young girl is like a dark mirror of what I was at her age – only she’s more…driven. She’s more–”

Bruce interrupted himself and slammed his hand on the ‘stop’ button as he spotted a small bat-shaped object on the corner of his desk. He had been bugged! And he knew who the culprit was – Barbara would be much more subtle, and Tim depended more on his own ears then technology.

As he stood up, he angrily ripped the listening device from the corner of the desk and began storming toward Cassandra’s room – only before he even reached the door of his darkened office, he could see the door opening slowly. He could see Cassandra’s head peeking in through the partially open door.

Suddenly at a loss for words, Bruce just stared. He was waiting for her to give an excuse, apologize, anything. She had just broken one of his cardinal rules, not to mention breaking the trust he had in her.

“Yes.”

Bruce’s frown turned into an expression of confusion and curiosity. Cassandra was trying to tell him something, but he didn’t understand. “Yes, what?”

Cassandra stepped into the room and looked down at the floor as she approached Bruce slowly. “I…I feel regret.”

Bruce’s heart sank as he watched a single tear slide off of the end of Cassandra’s nose toward the floor. He now understood – before him stood not a powerful super-hero. She was simply a young woman looking for a place in the world. She wanted only for someone to care.

“Cassandra, you’ve taken the first big step.” He held her chin up so her eyes met his as he smiled. “You want to be a crime fighter? A real crime fighter?”

Cassandra nodded a ‘yes’.

Bruce headed toward the door, turning around to face Cassandra again just before he left. “Meet me downstairs, one hour. It’s time you had some real training.”

Cassandra entered the large room downstairs to be surprised by it’s new surroundings. Where there was once a huge dining room table was now a soft, cotton-covered white mat. At one end of the mat stood a tall, obviously very strong man wearing a white robe with a black belt around his waist. Bruce sat on the only chair in the room, at the opposite end of the mat.

Bruce smiled. “Welcome to your training lesson, Cassandra. This man, who’s a friend of mine, is a black belt in Karate. Your object is to take him down without seriously hurting him, and learn his name – if he doesn’t take you down first. My job in this is to interfere with you as much as possible.”

Bruce stood up and shoved the chair aside. “Good luck, Cassandra.”

Cassandra stood for a moment staring at Bruce, waiting for him to give some kind of signal. She quickly found that there was none – she felt a shift in the air behind her, and ducked just in time before the strange man’s foot passed only inches above her head.

She quickly charged the man and tackled him, intent on pinning him to the mat – but she was seriously outmatched in strength. The man easily threw her to the mat and leapt back to his feet. Cassandra rolled away from him quickly only to catch Bruce out of the corner of her eye, trying to reach for her feet. She curled up to avoid Bruce and then jumped to her feet quickly.

Cassandra learned by now that fighting two men who were stronger then she was meant she would have to avoid assaulting either of them directly – she would have to remain on defense, and use her wits. She turned her head back and forth quickly to see that both Bruce and the strange man were heading toward her at the same time, quickly. She also spotted the chair again – she knew it was there for her to use.

She quickly curled into a ball and rolled past Bruce as he came toward her, grabbing the legs of the chair just as she sat up. When Bruce charged toward her an instant later, she leaned the chair and jammed the back of it between Bruce’s ribs, causing him to flip over the chair to the floor. She then jumped to her feet, lifted the chair up, and hit the strange man in the face with the wooden legs, causing two of them to break off. As soon as he fell to the ground, she reached down and folded the heavy safety mat on top of him, and jumped on top of the folded mat. He was trapped.

Keeping one eye on Bruce to make sure he didn’t interfere again, she grabbed a handful of the strange man’s hair and tugged on it gently. He howled in pain. “Name?”

“M-Master San.”

Cassandra gripped his hair a little harder, twisting a little bit as he screamed in pain again. She knew he was lying. They always lie the first time. “Name?”

“Go…to hell.”

As she spotted Bruce in her peripheral vision heading toward her from behind, Cassandra let anger fill her quickly. No more playing nice, it was time for her to get tough.

She kicked the approaching Bruce in the stomach, and hit him on the chin as he fell. She then wrapped her fingers around the strange man’s neck and snatched one of the broken chair legs laying on the ground nearby. She began shoving it mercilessly into his mouth.

“Name?”

The man began frantically waving at Bruce, who was slowly trying to rise to his feet and regain his equilibrium. As usual, he did so rather quickly – only this time, instead of rushing to stop Cassandra, he opted to try and talk to her this time.

“Cassandra, stop!” Bruce stepped toward her slowly. “His name is Bob Sampson.”

Cassandra released her hand from the man’s throat and tossed the chair leg aside. She then stood up and unfolded the mat, releasing the man, and held out her hand to help him back to his feet. Naturally, he refused her help and stood up on his own.

She stood a few feet away from the two bruised and exhausted men, smiling. Bruce stared at her in bewilderment before starting to laugh out loud. ‘Bob’ began laughing a second or two after. Her smile started turning into a frown – she didn’t understand what was so funny.

“I’m sorry, Cassandra.” Bruce stepped toward her and put one hand on her shoulder. “We can’t believe you beat that training exercise so easily. Tim had trouble with it, so did Barbara. Even Dick had trouble.”

“Congratulations.” Bruce leaned closer to Cassandra and looked right into her eyes. “You’re the only person who managed to learn Bob’s name.”

Cassandra smiled brightly as her mind completed Bruce’s next sentence before it left his mouth.

“Cassandra…You’re ready.”

Curtains and blinds were instantaneously closed along a residential street as a blue Buick slowed to a stop on the corner. The same corner still stained with the blood of a man who wanted only to protect his family, and his neighbors. He learned the hard way that often no good deed goes unpunished.

The same nineteen year old man stepped out of the car and lit a cigarette in his mouth, carelessly tossing the match onto someone’s manicured lawn. He didn’t care – he was there on business. A smile curled on his face as he could plainly see the residents of the street peeking out at him from behind their blinds. He laughed to himself – they thought they were safe, but he could take any and all of them down at any time. He knew at least one of them had already called the cops – but he didn’t care. Cops were only human, they died just as easily as anyone else.

He held his breath and turned quickly as a car approached from behind him, and then exhaled as he realized it was only his ‘customer’. He walked up to the car and leaned in the window. “Got the money?”

The man inside the car bowed his head, giving away his answer as an obvious ‘no’. “Frank, I…”

“Don’t call me that, deadbeat.” Frank lit another cigarette, tossing the burning remains of his old one into the car of his ‘customer’. “You know what I do to deadbeats?”

“Don’t, please…”

With one swift motion, Frank removed a nine millimeter pistol from behind his coat, the light from a nearby street glinting off of it’s steel surface as he brought it level with the head of his ‘customer’, who was now babbling and begging for his life.

Just as he began to squeeze the trigger, a black wing-shaped piece of metal hit his hand, knocking the gun to the ground. “What the–”

He leaned over to grab the gun off the ground only to be hit on the chin by what felt like a very powerful fist, and knocked flat onto the concrete sidewalk. Fear began to fill him as his mind put the ingredients together – he was sure he had finally met the infamous Batman. Frank looked up at his assailant as he leaned on his elbows for leverage. He then realized that it was no man who assaulted him, but a woman – Batgirl.

Frank smiled mischievously as he tried to return to his feet – only Batgirl’s boot immediately pinned his shoulder to the ground painfully.

Batgirl turned around quickly as she heard the doors open on the blue Buick. Three more thugs were exiting the car, each carrying a nine millimeter pistol. Batgirl knew she could easily disarm them all – but with innocent civilians so close by, she couldn’t take the risk of even one stray bullet.

She fired a cable launcher at a nearby apartment building and sped skyward as the launcher retracted it’s cable. If they were going to shoot, she had to keep them firing skyward. She wanted to make sure there were no innocent casualties.

She kneeled down and glared at the four thugs from the top of the apartment building, watching them squint toward her with their guns pointed skyward – they couldn’t see her in the dark. More cowards. They appeared to be everywhere these days. Batgirl waited patiently for the four of them to either split up or cluster together – either way, she would have the advantage.

As soon as the four crashed through the glass front door of the apartment building, Batgirl tensed a little bit – they were on their way up to the roof. But she still had the advantage – the roof was not lighted, and she had the element of surprise. She raced over to the small shack which housed the door between the stairway and the roof, jumping on top of it and crouching down. They’d never think to look there.

Batgirl waited calmly as the door opened and they began to step onto the roof, one by one. She wanted them all out in the open, in her world. That way she would be able to target them swiftly and silently. As soon as the last of the four stepped through the door, she leapt at them feet first. Batgirl knocked them all off of their feet like a row of dominoes collapsing on top of each other.

The first of the four to reach for his gun was met with a fist on the side of his head, the second a boot to the forehead. She was quickly losing patience with their persistence as she snatched the third by the back of his shirt, tossing him as far as her strength allowed.

As Batgirl turned to the other three again, she watched them freeze in wide eyed horror, just before she heard a terrified scream behind her. A quick glance behind her told her what they already knew – the man she quickly tossed out of the way had gone right over the side of the building.

Knowing she had the advantage now, Batgirl smiled at the other three men standing in front of her. She took a step toward them – they took a step back. Feeling more confident, she lunged toward them. As soon as she did, the three raced for the stairway, nearly tripping over each other to get out of her way. They were so frightened, they even left their guns behind. Batgirl carefully picked each of them up, slipping them behind her belt – she wanted to make sure no children found them lying there.

She stepped toward the edge of the roof, looking down toward the street to see the three tearing away in their cars. They didn’t even stop to check on their friend who fell off the roof.

Batgirl glided down to the street as she noticed the man who fell lying on the pavement, one of his hands twitching – he was still alive! As soon as her feet touched the ground, she kneeled down to examine him. He was still breathing, though unconscious. He needed medical help badly – and she couldn’t take him to a hospital herself, it was too dangerous to move him.

She remembered seeing a telephone just inside the window of a ground-floor apartment behind her. She turned quickly, punched through the glass window without a second thought, and threw the telephone handset on the floor. She then dialed nine-one-one. A dead-air call would alert both the police and a rescue unit to show up.

Silence filled the entire neighborhood as it’s residents started to slowly come out to watch Batgirl kneel down silently next to this stranger, holding his hand as distant sirens approached quickly. She wasn’t going to leave him to let him die alone on the cold pavement. To hell with Bruce’s rules.

“They could have arrested you, Cassandra. They could have discovered your identity.”

Bruce paced the room angrily as Cassandra stood silent with her arms folded, watching him with her eyes. He didn’t understand. He never would.

“Cassandra.” Bruce stepped in front of her, and looked down into the same deep brown eyes which had been following him around the room. “If you’re arrested and discovered, there will be no more Batgirl…Ever. Understand?”

Cassandra frowned and looked at the floor. She closed her eyes for a second as an image appeared in her mind of the man she ‘rescued’, lying on a stretcher, his eyes open. She saw so much sadness and confusion in those eyes, as if he was grateful, but couldn’t understand why Batgirl had come to his rescue.

“What’s wrong?”

As she reopened her eyes, she could see Bruce standing in front of her. She could feel a tear rolling down her cheek slowly. More a tear of frustration then sadness – she wanted so badly for Bruce to understand how she felt, what she saw…It was something that touched her to her soul, made her feel like a real hero. And yet here she was afterward, being made to feel ashamed for her actions.

“Are you okay, Cassandra? Do you feel sick?”

Cassandra shook her head ‘no’ as she turned a defiant gaze up to meet Bruce’s eyes. “I care.”

“You care? About what?” Bruce was a little intrigued now that he got Cassandra to talk to him for the second time today.

“People. My work.” Cassandra sat down on Bruce’s desk and hung her head. She felt a little ashamed to admit her weakness to Bruce, who told her every day that she must remain objective and out of touch with her feelings when taking the role of Batgirl. He always said that emotions cause irrational actions, which could get them both killed. She always knew something was wrong with that – and now, more then ever.

Bruce sighed. “I understand. You’re letting your feelings get involved with your work.”

Cassandra nodded a ‘yes’.

Bruce walked over to Cassandra and lifted her chin to meet her eye-to-eye. “Cassandra, you’re not the same as I am. You work differently. If you work better with your emotions then I do – and you can control them better – then so be it.”

Cassandra looked at Bruce with a little surprise over his sudden change in attitude. Could he no longer be obsessed with making everyone a mirror of himself?

“You do well as Batgirl, Cassandra.” Bruce took a step back as Cassandra slid off the desk, to her feet. “You have the courage to do things I never could do. And while Batman is just feared by everyone…People like Batgirl.”

Cassandra smiled, and turned her head to see that Alfred had just entered the room.

“Dinner is served, Miss Cassandra. Master Bruce.”

After Cassandra raced into the dining room ahead of the other two, Bruce stopped in the doorway. “How did I do, Alfred?”

Alfred smiled. “Excellent, Master Bruce. You gave her my speech almost word for word.”

Bruce laughed and shook his head as he headed toward the dining room. He didn’t let Alfred’s humor diminish his good mood – he was happy to finally understand Cassandra a little better.

“Record.”

As was traditional for Bruce, he spend almost every evening after dinner recording his thoughts…just in case.

“Cassandra appears to be unable to suppress her emotions as Batgirl, to separate herself from her work. But it’s not as bad as it sounds – her feelings seem to augment her instincts and skills somehow.”

Bruce paused in thought for a moment. Could he have been wrong all along? Could using his own emotions help him now that he has the experience?

“Her methods give her a little unpredictability, however. She may ignore important orders, or jump into a dangerous situation without looking–”

He shuddered for a moment at the thought of what could happen. But then he reminded himself that so far, it hasn’t happened. Cassandra always seemed to be able to take care of herself somehow, in a way even he didn’t fully understand.

“The fact that she’s almost as good as I am at this…and in some ways better…it sometimes makes me start to…rethink my own methods.”

Methods. He had to pause at the sound of that word. It made his work seem almost mechanical, scientific in nature. Cassandra, on the other hand, was more of a natural, her style more chaotic. Bruce sighed before he continued.

“Cassandra is a lot like me, but nothing like me as well. I figured out Dick and Tim very quickly…even Barbara didn’t take this long to figure out. Cassandra’s a mystery to me. And like every good detective…I feel I must solve this mystery–”

Bruce put down his microphone and frowned as he suddenly realized that something was different. He suddenly realized that he wasn’t the only one breathing in the room. Simple deduction told him exactly who it was.

“I know you’re here, Cassandra. Come on out.”

Only silence answered Bruce as he slowly reached for the switch on his desk lamp. He turned it on, filling the room with a pale yellow glow – only Cassandra was gone.

Bruce smiled. “Clever. Very clever.”

Batgirl stood high atop an apartment building, watching an old blue Buick drive up to the corner slowly. She glanced around the neighborhood quickly, and it made her sad. A formerly quiet neighborhood where kids would be outside playing, where parents would be sitting on porches being eaten alive by mosquitoes – it had been reduced to a neighborhood of fear, where people hid behind locked doors and drawn blinds.

She watched the car come to a stop as her fists clenched in anger. All of the fear surrounded this one coward and his friends. That’s what they were – only cowards prey on the weak for their own entertainment. It takes real strength to protect those within your reach.

Batgirl didn’t even move a muscle as she sensed someone walking up behind her. She knew exactly who it was by the sound of his footsteps, and of the wind tossing his cape – Batman. She was not surprised that he knew where she went, but she wondered why he came to help. She turned to face Batman, her eyes silently asking the question on her mind.

Batman put one hand on her shoulder. “Sometimes you have to follow your feelings. Let’s go, your lead.”

Batgirl smiled as she leapt off of the edge of the building, using her cape to glide gently down to the roof of the blue Buick just as it’s owner climbed out of the driver’s side.

“What the–” The man drew his pistol just in time for his chin and nose to meet Batgirl’s boot. He fell to the sidewalk, his broken nose and scratched up chin bleeding onto the concrete.

“You’re gonna pay for that”, he sputtered as he tried to spit the blood out of his mouth. Just as those words left his mouth, he saw a shadow hanging over him. Before he had a chance to look to see what it was, he felt himself being lifted up abruptly by his shirt collar. He began to shake uncontrollably, as he now realized that he was face to face with his worst fear – Batman.

“I’ll be watching you.” Those were the only words Batman said to the man before slamming his head into the side window of the car, and leaving him to slump to the sidewalk among beads of broken safety glass.

Once the man’s vision focused, he could see that Batman was gone – but Batgirl was still standing over him. The man cringed and held his arm up to try and shield himself from her inevitable assault. A second later, he realized there would be no such assault – she was holding her hand out, offering to help him to his feet.

As soon as she pulled the man up to his feet, she pointed at his car and then down the street. The man reluctantly climbed back into his car and began driving away. Just as she guessed, he was reluctant to try and argue with her in his condition.

Batman stood high atop the apartment building across from where Batgirl stood on the street. He watched the old Buick drive away. He watched people coming out of their homes, as porch lights began slowly filling the streets with light. He watched people shake Batgirl’s gloved hands. They all wanted to meet her, to thank the one who helped to save their neighborhood.

He smiled to himself and shook his head as he turned to head home. “Amazing. Simply amazing.”

 

“What have we done, Renee?”

Commissioner Gordon sighed loudly as he stared out his office window at a group of officers leaving the station. The Gotham City police force had changed so much, so fast. His brothers and sisters were now more like storm troopers, forced to walk the streets of Metropolis on foot, wearing heavy armor – all in the name of safety and security.

But it was the citizens he worried about. The police had become an intimidating presence on the streets. And the curfew wasn’t helping to improve their image, either. He turned and stared at the pile of paperwork on his desk, wishing it would all just vanish. He wasn’t in the mood for it at the moment. “This proud city of Gotham…my city…has survived earthquakes, crime waves, supervillains–”

“At least we won’t have that problem anymore, Jim.” Renee Montoya had a hint of contempt in her voice, bordering on sarcasm – not for Gordon, but for the new situation she and the other officers had been forced into. In fact, as she spoke to Gordon, she stood before him wearing now-required black-colored Kevlar body armor.

“The price is too high, Renee. Much too high.” Gordon shook his head sadly as he reached down to his belt, carefully removing his badge and gun. He handed them both to Renee carefully. He looked straight into Renee’s eyes – she saw a seriousness and dedication in them which told her that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What are you…?”

Gordon held up a hand to stop her. “Innocent citizens’ rights are being violated. Dammit, Renee, we’re their protectors. We’re their role models for justice, for fighting for what’s right. People look to us even more then the super-heroes out there. We have a responsibility…no, a requirement…to put a stop to this. We have to make them feel safe with us again, not frightened of us.”

“You’ll need this.” Renee sighed, looking behind her at the doorway quickly before handing Gordon back his gun. She quickly removed her body armor and tossed it aside and took a deep breath before removing her badge as well. She took a long look at it’s shiny metal surface before tossing it onto Gordon’s desk. “I’m with you. Just say the word, and a lot of the others will be too–”

“Renee, no. I can’t ask you to–”

“I want to. I’ve been crying every night since this started, Jim. I walk around the station and see empty, pained looks from the other officers. The job they once took pride in…to help people…has become a burden to them. Morale is just…gone.”

Gordon bit his lip and nodded. Renee was right, and even he knew that no amount of arguing would convince her otherwise – she was always as stubborn as he was. Gordon took one last look at his and Renee’s badges sitting on his desk. “Tell them that I’m walking. If any of the guys join me, I cannot protect them from retribution. Tell them that…I’m doing what I believe is right.”

As he opened his office door and stepped into the next room, silence fell over it’s occupants. All typing stopped, phone conversations came to an abrupt halt. Everyone was staring at Gordon. At that moment, he realized that somehow, word had gotten out of how upset he was with the city’s situation, and the sudden absence of his badge confirmed that the rumors were true, without a doubt. He knew his officers – by now they had betting pools closing, and a few of them were calling home to hear the comforting voice of a loved one. They knew he was going to walk.

Gordon took a deep breath before crossing through the squad room, with Renee close behind. Not a word was spoken by anyone as they passed through, on their way to the main entrance. He paused for just a second before passing through the door – there was no turning back now. His intentions were clear now…he had to follow through.

He stepped outside into the darkness and turned to face the police station just as Renee walked outside as well. Renee stopped to look at him for a second, and sighed. She knew how painful the decision he just made was. He was essentially abandoning his children – that’s how he felt about the police officers he was responsible for, as well as their families.

As they stood and stared at the police station, it’s door opened again. Once officer stepped out, his badge and gun missing. He didn’t say a word as he stepped outside and walked behind Gordon, nodding as he passed. Then another…and another, with the same silence, the same nod. It was an act of open rebellion by Gotham City’s Finest – in a matter of minutes, every officer in the department stood outside the building, in the street.

Gordon stood for a few seconds, stunned, before saying anything. “I can’t ask you do do this. Please…go back to work, all of you. Think of your families.”

“We do, sir.” One officer stepped forward and shook Gordon’s hand. “We think our kids growing up in a world like this…a world where they learn to be afraid all the time. I…don’t want that for them.”

“Me neither”, another officer volunteered.

The streets became filled with voices as officers began to raise their voices in agreement. With a single act by Jim Gordon, it was decided – the Gotham Police Department would strike…for freedom.

As the sounds in the street died down to a few scattered footsteps, Gordon looked up at the roof of a building across the street from the station. He knew he was being watched…but not by Batman.

“My God…what have I done?” Gordon didn’t expect an answer to his question – it was more a question for himself then for anyone else. He was surprised when he saw a dark form atop the building stand up, and spread out a cape. He recognized the form as Batgirl as she leapt off the building and sailed down to the street, using her cape as a parachute.

He froze as she approached him slowly and removed two items from her belt – one in her left hand, the other in her right. She pressed the item from her right hand into his palm quickly, and smiled softly before raising her left hand to launch a cable to the top of the police station. He watched as she zipped straight up the side of the building to the roof…and disappeared.

Gordon looked carefully at the device she pressed into his hand – it was some sort of bat-shaped transmitter. He smiled as he understood what she was trying to do. She was offering to protect the city for him during his absence. He laughed a little to himself and turned to face the roof of the police station.

“Just be careful out there…Batgirl.”

 

“Hmm.” Batman stood over the spot where hours earlier a crowd of police officers and detectives stood, scratching their heads. Gotham City’s Finest had been baffled by the brutal murder of one of their own – Captain Jerald Hall. Batman was willing to look for clues that they might have missed…such as an innocent-looking playing card he found on the sidewalk.

It was no ordinary card – it was made of a heavily laminated and varnished paper, it’s edges sharpened into razor-like blade. He turned the card he held in his hand around to look at the other side – it was a joker card. Batman looked around the street, noticing the crime scene tape still around the front of a small, dilapidated brick building. A quick examination of the scene told him that the man who’s blood still stained the sidewalk in front of that building had been running…from something.

Batman turned his sights on the building itself as he deftly flipped over the crime scene tape, careful not to disturb it. He raced up the steps and through the front door, looking around the entryway carefully. He found just what he expected – more sharpened playing cards wedged into the doorframe.

“We need to turn this place inside out for clues.” Batman didn’t even bother to turn around as Batgirl approached him silently from behind – and yet, somehow he knew exactly who had snuck up on him. Batgirl made a mental note to herself to ask him how he always managed to do that – but as Batman turned around, she knew her question had already been anticipated. “It’s your shampoo. I recognize the smell.”

Batgirl nodded and headed upstairs, leaving the ground floor for Batman to search. She crept along silently, pausing whenever the old wood floor beneath her began to creak. She froze suddenly as she hit the top of the steps – she spotted a wood saw lying on the floor about the same time she heard a cracking wood sound coming from all around her. It was a trap of some sort. Before she had time to jump backward, a small circle fell through the floor with her standing on it, sending her crashing down to the floor below.

She could have kicked herself – she fell for a trap well overused on Saturday morning cartoons. She had to remind herself once again that the building was one of many of Joker’s hideouts, and was bound to have traps that completely defied all logic and reason.

As she sat up, she frowned when she saw Batman leaning over her. His cold eyes told her what he could have said out loud – ‘you should know better’. As long as Batman was in costume, he carried with him an unwavering air of superiority.

More caution this time allowed Batgirl to climb the stairs once again and avoid the second trap – a flamethrower attached to a trip wire. Yet another Saturday morning cartoon device. That’s where she found her first clue – a newspaper open to the rental ads. She knew better then to just reach for it, as she had no doubt that it too was a trap. Instead, she unwound part of one of her cable launchers and threw the hook at the newspaper, using it to drag the paper over to her. She was glad she did as she watched a large steel guillotine blade slide down between two wooden poles in the room, severing her cable in half.

Now that it was closer, she snatched the newspaper and read an ad that was circled in purple marker ink – ‘Apartment available, furnished. Gotham Tower’. As she read, she felt a slight breeze behind her but no sound. She knew it was Batman. It gave her chills – which helped her understand yet another one of his intimidation tactics.

“Good work.” Batman took the newspaper from her hands and headed back down the stairway quickly, expecting her to follow. She ran to catch up to him, until he stepped outside. He turned to face her before climbing into the Batmobile.

“Gotham Tower?”

Batman nodded in response to Batgirl’s question as he started up the Batmobile. “You’re going in alone. You are to gather clues only, and remain undetected. Do you understand?”

Batgirl nodded. She didn’t know why Batman wanted her to go in alone, or why she was to maintain stealth. But something rare that she heard in Batman’s voice made her accept every word he said without question – she heard fear.

“I want that rent, Mr. Smith! Open the door now! I’m getting the super–” A man in a cheap-looking suit pounded on the door of the penthouse apartment at Gotham Towers. He heard crashing noises from inside, causing him to cringe as his imagination tried to make up for what he couldn’t see.

“Here ya go, Mr. Stevens.” The building super, a short, fat, older man smoking a cigar, handed the man in the cheap suit a large ring weighted down by dozens of keys. “It’s the red one.”

Stevens could have sworn he heard laughing from the other side of the door as he tried to unlock it with the key – it fit just fine, but the lock appeared stuck. “Bob?”

“Hmm…looks like it’s been welded or somethin’.” The super looked closely at the lock with a flashlight. “Yup. It’s welded. I’m gonna have ta get a crowbar–”

The two men paused to watch a small package being pushed through the mail slot, backwards. It was ticking loudly.

“Bob?” Stevens started backing away slowly.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Run!”

As the two men raced down the stairway, the package continued ticking for another minute before it went off…filling the hallways with the scent of skunk. The neighbors on the lower floors noticed the smell almost immediately, several of them calling the fire department. They all evacuated the building in a matter of minutes.

It would be hours later, after the building had been ventilated and declared safe by the fire department, that the fire investigator managed to gain entry to the penthouse apartment to investigate what had happened. Stevens was almost in tears when he saw that the apartment had been stripped to it’s bare walls. There was one item found in the entire apartment – a small plastic toy clown.

Batgirl held a small plastic clown in the palm of her hand as she headed up the stairway into Gotham towers at around three a.m. She shrugged and tossed it aside. From what she read in the police report, the investigators probably discarded the plastic toy as they left the building. And yet–

She turned around quickly and picked up the small plastic clown, then removed a small knife blade from her belt. She sliced the titanium steel blade through the plastic easily, splitting the toy in half – and just as she expected, there was something inside. It was a note, with a key attached to it. The note said simply, ‘The key to my city’.

Almost silently, she headed inside the building, making short work of picking the entrance lock. She began to slink along the darkened hallway, headed toward the stairs, and eventually the penthouse. Most of the building was in disrepair – evidence of water leaks traced the walls, and the lighting in the hallway was barely adequate to see. The people who lived in the building were fairly poor, people who relied on government and private assistance just to make ends meet. But they were mostly working poor, people who constantly struggled for a better life.

Suddenly, she found herself bathed in light as Apartment 1A opened without warning as she passed its door. Her heart began beating quickly, her first instinct was to run. But as she spotted a heavy-set man with a heavy smell of alcohol on his breath standing unsteadily in the doorway holding a beer, her fear diminished. He was so drunk, he would never even remember seeing her.

“Batgirl, eh?” The man stumbled into the hallway, almost spilling his beer as he took each step. “About time ya did something about…those people. Ya know what I’m talkin’ about, right? They hide in the dark, thinkin’ you can’t see ’em.”

Batgirl shook her head slowly and began walking away from the man. She knew exactly what he meant – but the last thing she needed were more racists to deal with. She left him behind in her mind as she turned to head toward the stairs, and forever leave him to his sorry existence.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!”

That’s when he made a big mistake. He reached out and grabbed the edge of Batgirl’s cape in his fist, only to find his face meeting her leather boot a split second later. She turned around to stand over him, arms folded, as he propped himself up on his elbows and felt his nose with his right hand. His subsequent scream told her that his nose had been cleanly broken.

Feeling a little more satisfied with herself, Batgirl headed toward the stairway quickly, determined to get to the penthouse without interruption this time. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy. Practically as soon as she entered the stairway, the electricity in the building went out. Batgirl knew she wouldn’t have a problem navigating – she had trained herself to do so in near total darkness. The problem was that people who lived in the building flooded into the hallways to see what had happened.

Batgirl was just about to write off the power outage as coincidence as she continued up the stairway, until she heard a door on the first floor of the stairway open and the man she left with a nosebleed yelling.

“Serves all a’ ya right! That’s what ya get for callin’ Batgirl on me!”

She shook her head and sighed as she realized that the man she had assaulted on the first floor must have been the building’s super – and he was now angry, taking it out on the poor residents of the building. Batgirl turned and headed back down the stairway quickly, but noiselessly. She would straighten him out…one way or the other.

“Wait, wait…everyone just wait a minute!” The mayor of Gotham City wasn’t happy as he stormed into his office, followed by two of his aides, and slammed the door behind him in an effort to keep the press out. “What the heck are we going to do? We have no police in Gotham!”

“Call the governor, sir. We can get the National Guard down here–”

“Fine, do that…we can’t let this city fall into chaos.” The mayor headed back to the door, taking a deep breath as he prepared to open the door and face the press waiting outside. “And while you’re at it, call the prosecutor. I want charges filed against Gordon.”

As soon as he opened the door, the mayor was immediately greeted by dozens of flashing bulbs, and a flood of high intensity lighting. Cameras from every major television station were rolling. Newspaper reporters from cities as far as Metropolis were holding tape recorders and writing furiously. Voices were yelling out questions – people were demanding answers.

In the dark, nearly silent Bat Cave, Bruce Wayne sat leaned back in his chair, watching the circus unfold on a large screen monitor. He watched the mayor stand silently for several minutes, patiently waiting for the roar of activity to stop. Once the noise reduced to a few random camera clicks and whispers, he cleared his throat.

“We will not be held hostage by an illegal strike. We will not leave the citizens of Gotham unprotected. Mark my words…there will be law enforcement in Gotham City. I will take five questions, in random order.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he watched the mayor point a man in a cheap-looking suit and glasses to ask the first question. He recognized the man immediately.

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet. Is there any truth to the rumor that the city will be pursuing charges against Commissioner James Gordon due to the strike?”

The mayor glanced at one of his aides, who shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kent. I can’t comment on that. Next question?”

The monitor in front of Bruce went dark as he suddenly turned it off in disgust. He stood up and paced partway around the room, sighing as he watched Alfred enter with a cup of tea.

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce returned to his seat as Alfred removed the cup from the tray he carried and placed it on Bruce’s desk.

Alfred put his tray on the desk as well and leaned over Bruce. “Is something the matter?”

Bruce sighed as he watched the steam slowly rising from his cup of tea. “I just hope Cassandra is having better luck then I am.”

Steam rushed into the stairwell as Batgirl opened the door to the basement. She knew it wasn’t normal – someone had opened all of the boiler’s relief valves. It wasn’t enough that the super turned off the power – he was now working on turning off the heat as well. She took a deep breath and headed into the hot clouds of steam – it wouldn’t be easy, especially for someone wearing leather from head to toe.

“Who’s down here?” A man’s gruff voice boomed through the basement suddenly. She recognized that voice, it was the same man who yelled up the stairway earlier – the building’s super.

Batgirl rolled to the ground quickly, tumbling behind one of the hot boilers. She could hear footsteps moving through the clouds of steam, slowly – and as a shadowed form passed, she could make out that he was holding a metal pipe. She smiled to herself – this man obviously had no idea who he was messing with.

In a moment of arrogance, Batgirl suddenly stepped out from behind the boiler. She knew that the man’s best attempts to hit her with the pipe would fail – she simply ducked out of the way as he made his best effort. But she didn’t anticipate his next move.

The super raised his weapon above a thick iron pipe which ran past the boiler, making a sharp turn downwards to the boiler’s bottom. It was obviously a large gas line – and the man was threatening to break it open. “You understand that, dontcha? Huh?”

He began smiling as he watched Batgirl turn as if to leave – but his joy was short-lived as she spun around, her boot knocking the steel pipe he held to the floor with a ‘clang’. A powerful blow to his nose accompanied by a loud ‘crack’ left pain in it’s wake – even more this time, since his nose had already been broken once by her. He then found his knees collapsing from under him as a quick sweep from one of Batgirl’s feet sent him tumbling onto his back.

“What’re ya gonna do…kill me? You aint got the guts!”

Batgirl smiled mischievously and kneeled down in front of the super, staring at him for a second steadily. He seemed to cower away from her as she reached for him – it was enough. She meant to intimidate him, not hurt him.

She rose to her feet quickly and headed toward the electrical circuit box on the wall at the far end of the basement. As she opened the door and turned all of the switches back on, she could practically hear the cheers of the residents upstairs.

But as she saw a shadow descend upon behind her from behind, she knew she had forgotten something. It was something very important about the building, the original purpose she had come. Unfortunately, before she remembered…it came to find her.

Batgirl felt her sight black out as she felt a sudden blow to the back of her head. Consciousness slipped away from Batgirl quickly…and she could swear that she heard laughter.

 

“Barbara, I asked you here to tell you that…I may be going away for a while.”

“Dad–” Barbara Gordon rolled her wheelchair quickly around her father’s furniture, easily catching up to him as he stepped into the kitchen. He had re-arranged his furniture after her…accident, anticipating a visit from her. “They wouldn’t dare file charges against you.”

Jim Gordon smiled his daughter as he removed a soft drink from the refrigerator. Barbara almost rolled over him as he attempted to remove a frying pan from next to the stove – she insisted on doing the cooking when she visited. He had to smile…she was irrepressible. In spite of an injury that would cause most of her peers, and his, to simply give up, she had become just as skilled in a wheelchair as she was on foot as Batgirl.

“The fact is, Barbara, that this strike is illegal. It’s not endorsed by the union, even if they are supporting me. I gave the city absolutely no negotiation time–”

“But you’re doing what’s right–” Barbara froze, staring steadily at her dad as both of their eyes turned sad. She knew very well that what was right was often not the law. It was one thing she learned over and over again during her time working alongside Batman.

“I know…I know it’s right.” Jim leaned against the counter and sighed, placing the soft drink can next to him as he felt his grip on it weakening. “With all my heart, I know. That’s why no matter what happens…I can’t back down. I’m willing to go to jail for this, Barbara.”

“I understand, dad.”

Jim smiled again as he looked at Barbara. She did understand – she was no stranger to bending the rules to do what was right. “For someone like me, Barbara…the law is my life. And here I am–”

“Dad, if you end up in jail–” Barbara smiled at Jim and nudged him with her elbow as she passed in her wheelchair. “I’ll break you out myself.”

Jim laughed as he reached out to hug his daughter. “You do that, Barbara. You do that.”

Batgirl woke up abruptly and looked around, still dizzy from the blow she took to the back of her head. She realized quickly that she was lying on the floor of a small bathroom somewhere. A really disgusting bathroom.

She leapt to her feet quickly, in spite of the dizziness she felt – she panicked for a moment as she realized that there were literally dozens of roaches parading around the floor around her. Finding a perch off of the floor was out of the question – the overfilled toilet and bathtub were covered with some kind of grease and were too slippery, and the sink actually contained more roaches then the floor did. There was no ceiling in the room, just open rafters and wood from the floor above – and the walls had holes in them.

The door, as she guessed, was locked and barricaded, and something was propped against the outside of the door to prevent her from forcing it open. There was no window. She sighed, and began looking around the bathroom for clues as to where she was. That’s when she noticed that there was something in the murky water in the toilet and tub.

She leaned a little bit closer, not too close, but still couldn’t see anything. Luckily, there was a discarded handle from an old plunger – which she used to poke carefully through the murky water. She felt something large and very solid which was blocking the toilet drain.

Against her better judgement, Batgirl used the stick to push the object up along the wall of the toilet. As she did, she could see it take form – it was a badly decomposed human head, belonging to a woman who had obviously been killed only a short time ago. She jumped back suddenly – lifting the head had caused the water to suddenly drain out of the toilet, leaving the head, and it’s accompanying pungent odor, exposed.

She backed up against the opposite wall as she watched the several dozen roaches present in the room congregating toward the toilet – now that the murky water was gone, they were free to dine on the head’s rotting flesh. Batgirl glanced at the bathtub for a moment, afraid of what she might find in there. But she had a pretty good theory – that it was most likely the rest of the woman who’s head was in the toilet.

Batgirl jumped again as she door to the bathroom suddenly opened. Standing in the doorway was the Joker, holding a gun. She began to shake her head slowly – this had to be a nightmare.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Joker waved past him, inviting Batgirl to leave the bathroom. She took him up on his offer quickly, racing past him to the exit door of the next room – only to find that it was locked as well. “I would have simply locked you in a closet, but I figured…what if you had to use the head?”

As the Joker began laughing hysterically at his own joke, Batgirl kicked the door, hard, to try and force it open. She succeeded only in breaking a small hole in the door – immediately discovering that there was a loud, angry dog on the other side.

“Feathers, be quiet!”

Joker’s threat was immediately followed by two rounds fired in the dog’s direction. After the first two rounds missed, Batgirl watched him take aim again – he was going to kill that dog. Acting both on fear and instinct, she launched herself at the Joker, both of her feet making contact with his chest. As she tumbled away from him, she was sure she had knocked him to the ground – and more importantly, caused him to drop his gun.

Correction – one of his guns. As she quickly found out, the Joker was well-armed. As soon as she had knocked him to the ground, he simply drew another gun and fired at the dog again. He missed, but this time she could breathe a sigh of relief as the dog ran down the hall.

“Feathers and I play with guns all the time.” Joker paced around the room, looking out the window briefly into the darkness before turning his attention back to Batgirl. “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t plan to kill you. You’re Batty’s invitation to my penthouse party. Girls, dogs, rodents…what more could you want in a party?”

Batgirl guessed he meant that he wanted to lure Batman to rescue her – only to fall into some kind of trap. She eyed the window behind Joker carefully – maybe she did have the chance for escape. Only she realized that Joker had removed all of the cable launchers on her belt, so her chances of surviving a dive out the window were slim.

“Ah-ah. I wouldn’t go jumping out that window without a net.”

Joker suddenly grabbed Batgirl by the back of the neck and shoved her back into the bathroom. She had to use nearly all of her agility and strength to avoid falling into the murky water in the bathtub. She tensed as she watched Joker enter the small room with her.

“Meet Annette.”

Batgirl suddenly found herself with a rare chance as the Joker began doubling over with laughter at his own joke. She gripped his hair in her hand tightly and slammed his head into the wall, before tripping him to cause him to easily lose his balance and fall on the slippery tile floor. Her muscles tensed as she eyed the window in the next room. It was time to go.

“Some people just can’t take a joke. Which is fine…I have a serious side too, you know.”

As Batgirl raced for the window, she took one quick look back. She just had to see what Joker meant – no matter how frightening he was to be around, anyone who met him had to admit that his behavior was a curiosity. But then again…curiosity is what killed the cat.

She remembered that the Joker was carrying a pistol. She was ready for that, even several of them. But there was no way she could have possibly prepared for this. As she raced for the window, she watched the Joker light a stick of dynamite, hold it in his mouth, and run toward the window right behind her.

For the first time since she began working alongside Batman, she closed her eyes as she sailed through the glass window, and began plummeting. Her eyes remained closed as she held her arms stiff at her sides, the edges of her cape in her hands, just as Batman trained her to do when jumping without equipment – it would slow her down, lesson the impact, he said.

But he never imagined explosives figuring into the equation…and neither did she. Batgirl could feel an immense heat and pressure behind her, pain filled her head from her ears. It was the most painful experience she ever felt, to feel her body pushed to it’s limits, to be tossed helplessly through the air.

She thought it would never end…but it did. The unyielding ground pounded her mercilessly as she landed in the small strip of grass alongside the apartment building, the pain she felt from the impact was almost refreshing after encountering that explosion. She opened her eyes quickly to see that the Joker was calmly gliding to a landing on a building across the street – he was wearing a parachute all along.

Everything seemed so serene and quiet as flashing lights began to approach quickly. Red and white for ambulance, red for fire company, and blue for police. She guessed that meant there were a few officers working in spite of the strike.

It was so quiet. Much, much too quiet. Batgirl sat up abruptly to be met with severe dizziness, convincing her that she would be unable to rise to her feet. She turned around quickly as she saw a shadow behind her – it was Batman. He was saying something, but she didn’t understand him for some reason.

As Batman lifted her and carried her toward the Batmobile, she glanced at the approaching emergency vehicles again. They should be loud, ear piercing – but she heard only silence. She looked at Batman, he was still talking, yet she couldn’t hear. Panic hit her quickly as she realized what had happened – the explosion had taken away her hearing. She was now deaf.

“Record.”

Bruce sat in a nearly darkened office, the only source of light in the room being his computer screen. It cast a blue, eerie glow across the room, reflecting his mood. His hands were still shaking from the moment when he discovered Cassandra’s hearing loss. Like with all cases of hearing loss, only time would tell just how permanent it was.

Cassandra held out bravely in telling her…only it became obvious after Alfred asked what she wanted for dinner, and she didn’t seem to understand. She just nodded cheerfully, trying to cover up the fact that she didn’t understand a word.

At that moment, Bruce remembered the smell of explosives in the area where he found Cassandra, and noticed small amounts of damage that could have been easily discounted as vandalism. He immediately insisted on testing Cassandra’s hearing in spite of her resistance.

“I’ve been looking after Cassandra for almost a year now. I thought she would be an excellent Batgirl. She was an excellent Batgirl…or maybe she still is. I don’t know anymore.”

Bruce leaned forward at his desk, leaning his elbows on the surface, placing his face in his hands. He asked Alfred to make sure he would not be disturbed for any reason – he didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

“I have no one to blame for what happened but myself. I sent her out there. I put her in danger when she was clearly not ready. I almost…almost got her killed. And if she would have been killed–”

He tossed aside the microphone and ran his fingers through his hair nervously, before abruptly shoving his computer monitor off of his desk. The sound of crashing glass didn’t appease him the slightest bit.

“Dear God…I can never forgive myself. Not this time. Not ever.”