"Kara, you have to move faster. Someone is trying to track you using satellite technology."

"Disable it, Sanc. I'm not sure I can move much faster."

"According to my projections, you can move faster by a facto--"

"Say that wearing spaghetti straps, Sanc."

The AI paused for half a second. "I will block the attempt to track your flight pattern. Again."

It was the same every time she went anywhere near Gotham City. Sanctuary and whoever, whatever, had been playing this game of cybernetic back and forth. Sanctuary had it's theories for who was behind it, but now was not the time to confront anyone on the planet with those kinds of resources. She had just wrapped up her first semester at MIT, and while it was unlikely Kara would return to Boston for another semester considering how quaint she found the terran institution in some ways, she didn't feel ready. Not in terms of her abilities, not in terms of her mental state.

And sure as the stars not emotionally ready.

For her she had lost everything not even a year ago. Her craft hit a wormhole, and she was knocked off course for decades. She had continued to be trained, to learn, during her slumber. As a fully matured mind she was capable of that, whereas the infant Kal-El was not. His time in space was just lost potential. Kara's was not. No amount of learning would help her, however, when the man with stars for eyes came for her in the darkness of her cryogenic slumber. "Awake, Kar'a Zor-El. Before you die."

When she awoke and saved herself and Sanctuary, floating on one of Earth's salt water oceans for weeks before she found out anything of value. Then the learning truly began, and practicing. The senses could be overwhelming; especially when it came to the scents of Gotham City. The place stank in a way most Earth cities did not. Boston could be bad, but it wasn't as bad as Philadelphia. Sections of what the hew-mans called "Asia" could just reek all the way to the upper limits of the atmosphere, but among the western hemisphere there was nothing quite like the smell of Gotham City.

Like a mix of wood rotting from wet, industrial chemical pollution, and the ever-present underlying notes of death and decay. Given what she had learned about Earth, it's people and their culture so far, there wasn't a better suited Earth city for this Batman than the one he claimed to protect. Why hadn't Kal-El stepped in? If Sanctuary's projections on their powers were correct, Kal-El could have ended petty crime in a single day. Any serious corruption could have been left to someone like the Batman. So why? Was it the secret identity wasting Kal-El's time? Was he afraid of this Batman for some reason beyond Kara's mental math?

It led her to an old dark brick building barely four stories tall, so old and on such compromised ground she swore one side of the building leaned over the alley in which Kara landed, looking like it might lean further to "touch" the other old and decaying brick and wood building that stood next to it along the Gotham street that straddled the industrial docks and what Sanctuary only referred to as "the Bowery."

Sanctuary might as well just called it urban decay.

Her landing was smooth enough. Sorta. The landing was fine, but the short heeled brown leather boots she wore threw her super-fine balance for a beat until she corrected. The boots hugged her nearly to her knees, snug and tight over the thin dark blue jeans that felt more like a second skin than they did jeans. The mystery of density between male jeans and female jeans bothered her until a classmate just laughed at the question one night as a social function: "It's sex, Kara. Everything boils down to sex. The hell kind of boarding school did you attend my naive little child?"

Sex didn't bother Kara, just the alien nature of these hew-mans. Dream had prompted her to give them a try. Kal-El gave his life to protecting them and this planet. The spaghetti strapped tank top showed enough cleavage to be dangerous for both those who would be attracted, and Kara herself, "Neon Indian" written across it in a font best suited for timespan simply referred to as "the Eighties", it's neon rainbow colors across her chest matching the font, so she was told. The brown leather jacket over that was unzipped and left open, tight enough without restricting movement, it's "waist band" going almost down to her waist.

When a few men in the alley stared, chuckled, and stood from their game of what appeared dice and human currency, Kara met their unsettling gaze with one of her own: her crystal blue eyes coming alive with bright crimson light, wisps of steam following her faint eyeshadow and floating up into the air. The men stopped, and carefully backed away, before she heard their footprints quicken into a dead sprint away from her. By the time she left the alley and rounded to the front of the brick building, her eyes were blue, reflecting the neon light of the sign that hummed in gaseous heat above door.

Staggers

"You're sure they're in here?"

"Yes, however I do believe infiltrating this Batman's systems would be eas--"

"Everything we know about him says he's more paranoid than Jor-El. Remember how Uncle Jor-El reacted when I hacked Kelek for a practical joke?"

"He spent the next year creating new security fractol expressions in a custom digital language."

"He lost trust in me for almost a year."

"He was also very impressed with you."

Her head shook, her gold hair swaying slightly with the shake of her head, "No dice, Sanc. We find another way."

"If we can't?"

"We'll cross that algorithmic function when we have to, Sanc."

Kara saw the target before she even entered the door, the lights dim, the music loud, the scent of alcohol and sweat overpowering the much subtler scents of blood and bleach scrubbed into the floor and walls covered with even more of the neon gas filled signs, and pictures of women wearing...less than a Tamaran, and holding cans of beer. Hew-mans. It really is all about sex. Hands tucked neatly into her jacket pockets, Kara walked towards the bar, and the target.

The dim lights and loud music made it easy for Rose to forget she was on duty. The drink in her hand and the man she had allowed to press her against the bar, doubly so. The straps of her tank top and bra were halfway down her bicep, the lower half the shirt hiked up to her ribs as the man’s hand began to wander until the heel of Rose’s motorcycle boot pushed him off.

“I don’t fuckin’ think so.” She said playfully before chugging the last of her drink.

“Don’t be a tease, bitch.” The man replied. “Don’t rev the engine if you’re not going to ride.” He continued as he took a step forward only to be stopped as the steel toed boot collided with his nether regions.

“That should stop the fuckin’ engine.” Rose replied with a smirk. “Now get the fuck out of my bar!”

“It’s not your bar!” A voice came from behind the counter, as the man braced himself on the counter and stumbled towards the door. Turning around, Rose slammed her drink down on the bar as she leaned against it, her back arched as she looked around the crowd.

“Yo, Al, shut the fuck up and get me another. Forget the rocks.” Rose said as she noticed a blonde moving towards her. “You’re definitely not from Gotham, Doll.” She muttered with a low whistle before brushing her hair over to the right side of her head, highlighting the faded cut on the left. Taking a large gulp from her new whiskey, Rose turned towards the blonde and took a few strides in her direction, getting a feel for the music as she began to dance towards the newcomer.

“What brings a girl like you to a city like this?” Rose asked, a coo in her tone as she brushed against Kara.

Kara just ignored the man grumble past her, silently wondering to herself if that’s what desperation smelled like as he passed her. A perfect dirty blonde brow perked higher than the other at the sight of the seemingly intoxicated, and, uh, dancing ‘Batgirl.’

The dialogue with Sanctuary went neural: You’re sure this is her?

”I am certain.”

Not for the first time, Kara was glad to be the only person who could hear Sanctuary’s responses. After a quick tilt, and straightening, of her head Kara even managed to lower her curiosity perched brow, trying, and only half succeeding, to suppress a chuckle. “It wasn’t for the dancing. I need to ask you some questions, Rose.” Rose, the blonde in jeans and leather said, the knowing edge in her voice as sharp as any assassin’s blade.

If this Batgirl spoke between the lines, she’d of known the translation: I know who you are.

There was an unmistakable edge to the blonde woman’s words. Rose knew it well, it was an edge she used almost hourly.

Hell, I just used it.

“Look, Doll, I’m sorry if he was your boyfriend, fiancé or husband, I’m sure he came on to me first.” Rose said dismissively as she dropped the dance and swiped a beer from a nearby table. Holding up a single finger, she downed the beer, letting out a small burp before continuing.

Rose was aware that this woman wasn’t here because of a cheating bastard, but she didn’t know why she was here. She needed something more to go on. Was it on behalf of her deceased father, did Wintergreen send her, was this something to do with her mother?

Hell,

It could be something to do with her own actions, the woman had a distinct foreign look to her, she could be in Gotham looking for revenge against the former Ravager. Maybe she was a scorned lover.

“But to make it even, how about you and I go out back and I’ll make your toes curl in ways he’ll never be able to.” Rose continued with an apathetic shrug. “Or, you can turn your high and mighty white ass around and get the fuck out of my bar, Doll. Before you get hurt.”

“It’s not your fuckin’ bar!”

“What’d I tell you Al?” Rose yelled back. “Shut the fuck up!”

In the face of such a display, and at the start of such inevitable chaos, the blonde kept her tight white ass right where it stood. Men in cheap leather jackets, plaid shirts, and thick boots were breaking bottles and grappling with each other already. How pathetic it was that it took so very little to make these hew-mans get violent so very quickly. She might've sneered, but it would've given away what was to come next.

Sanctuary, kill the power to the building for five seconds.

It took the Kryptonian A.I. all of a moment's time, and the lights went out. All Rose, or Al, would've felt in those five seconds was an intense rush of air. All they would've heard was the body of each combatant (seemingly) hitting the floor at the same time, knocked out cold. When the lights went back on, Kara was standing right where she had been when the lights went off. Eyes the color of deep ice unblinking at Wilson. Sanctuary confirming to Kara no serious damage had been done to any of the unconscious men. A relief.

It irritated Kara it had come to violence at all. An irritation that showed in the hard set of her jaw, and the glare of her eyes. "Out back. Now, please."

“Awe, you don’t gotta show off for me, Doll.” The silver haired girl retorted as her and the blonde became the only conscious people in Staggers.

Fuck, Ish, why’d you have to remove the Kryptonite.

“Y’know,” Rose stated as she walked towards the back door, “I thought you looked familiar when I first saw you. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s pretty clear to me now.” She paused before the door, leaning against the frame.

“You two have the same jawline.” Rose said with a knowing smile of her own. ”Did you know I tried to kill him once?” She asked with a smile before suddenly pulling a Beretta from behind her back, shooting a nearby fire extinguisher as a thick cloud filled the room. Darting out the door, Rose booked it for her nearby motorcycle.

She was outgunned and under prepared for a fight against a Kryptonian. Last time she at least had Kryptonite in addition to her abilities, and that still hadn’t stopped Superman from cracking her ribs.

"You tried to kill baby Kal?"

She was more confused than anything, and it echoed in her voice. And then the gun, then the cloud of carbon dioxide. Kara laughed, before running (at normal human speeds) out the back door. Once she hit the back door, and found herself back in the alley, she sped up. She was already on the bike when Wilson made reached it, arms crossed, confusion still written plain across her fine Kryptonian features.

"If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be hurt. Months ago I saw my planet destroyed. Every friend I had, every member of my family gone in a cataclysm beyond scope--except one. My baby cousin; Kal-El. Our family is..." Her eyes winced like she'd been struck a blow, the pain seeming to shudder through her entire body, leaving blue eyes that were clear before the wince suddenly glassy when they re-opened, "were great scientists. We saw it coming. No one listened, but we got Kal-El and myself off the planet. His vessel reached your planet on schedule. My vessel hit an unmapped wormhole, and delayed me decades."

Kar'a Zor-El couldn't even look up anymore. Reeling in pain, trying not to cry for the thousandth time, all she could manage was a weak tone as she kept her silently crying eyes to the ground. "Please, I just want some answers. Please."

Rose reluctantly stopped as she tucked the handgun into the waistband of her ripped jeans.

“Not like that would have done a fuckin’ thing, anyways.” She muttered looking at the other girl. “Ah hell.” Rose cursed, “Look, I didn’t know your Kal as a baby, he was a man by the time I saw him for the first time.” She answered, choosing her words slowly.

“He was a man my entire life. Damn good looking too.” Rose smirked slightly as she looked at the disheartened girl before her. “Seems it runs in the family.”

“I’m not sure how long he was here, my fuckin’ Dad seemed to think it was well over fifty years.” She continued, trying hard not to dwell on thoughts of her own father for longer than she had to. “Your ‘Kal’ could never resist fightin’ a hell of a good cause, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he was part of the fuckin’ second world war.” Rose said with a more genuine smirk.

“But damn honestly, like I said, outside of trying to fuckin’ kill the Superman, I know no more than the average person. What answers could you possibly want from me?”

Her eyes raised until they were square with Wilson’s once more, pain and grief replaced with determination, “You are the Batgirl. I have reason to believe the Batman was a friend of Kal’s. Can you help me talk with the Batman?”

“Never met the man.” Rose half-lied. She had of course met Batman, but it was nearly eleven years ago, when he and Deathstroke had rescued her from the first Ravager. “I may wear his mantle but I have no association or sanction from the man, the name, Batgirl, was given to me by the media.” She said dismissively. “Kind of like the guy in the red and yellow pajamas using your Kal’s name.”

“Last I heard, the Bat was training a bunch of cry babies to protect the city. You want to talk to him, show one ‘em your tits and I’m sure they’ll be grateful enough to get you a meeting.” Rose stated. “Otherwise, there’s always the compensation light on the roof of the GCPD you could turn on. He always comes running for that.”

That perfectly groomed dirty blonde eyebrow perked in interest once more. For now she ignored the `red and yellow pajamas` reference, focusing on the subject at hand. “Compensation light?...interesting.” With a swing of her hips Kara moved off the motorcycle, and smiled at the, uh, interesting young woman. “Thank you, Rose. I am Kara. Should you come across any further information, or if I can repay the favor...well, I’ll hear you if you call loud enough.”

A quick wave, a quicker few skips, and Kar’a Zor-El was airborne. It wasn’t until she was well into the sky that she went supersonic, and disappeared into the cloudy night sky of Gotham City.

“I had a few thoughts on how you could repay the favour,” Rose muttered as she watched Kara disappear into the sky. With a sign, she straddled the now empty motorcycle and brought it to life. Perhaps it was time for the ‘Batgirl’ to begin her own patrol.

Cold sweat ran down the man’s face as he grabbed a hold of the nearby lamp post, using the pillar to guide him around a sharp corner as he scrambled into the nearby alley. A purse hung from his hand, his grip white-knuckled around the strap as he continued to run, his lungs burning, feet aching as he body fought against his mind to stop running. Fear and adrenaline were his reflex now as the scalloped shadow from above descended upon the alley.

A gun was firmly grasped in his other hand as he began to fire shot after shot. Anything that appeared to move or rustle in the pale moonlight was met with a stray bullet haphazardly fired in its direction until no sound remained in the dark alley but the click of an empty magazine.

The silenced washed over the man filling him with a false sense of relief until a voice broke the stillness of the night.

“You’re empty, motherfucker.”

A gunshot rang out as the man’s own weapon fell from his hand. The clatter seemed to echoed as the man cried out in agony, a white hot searing pain penetrated his hand in the same manner as the bullet that caused the injury. Falling to his knees, the man dropped the purse as he clutched his bleeding hand, the warm trickling of the crimson liquid sending sensations of nausea through his stomach while he struggled to remain conscious.

The shadowed figure descended upon the quickly fading man. The pointed ears and long billowing cape denying an accurate image of the figure’s true shape as she approached the small, a smoking gun in one hand while a second was outstretched towards him. Trembling in fear, the man closed his eyes as the cold muzzle of the outstretched gun was pressed forcefully against his forehead.

”Do you know who the fuck I am?”

“Y-y-you’re the B-Batg-”

“I’m the justice you can’t fuckin’ run from.” The shadowed figure snarled as the gun was suddenly pulled away only for the flash of the muzzle to burn the man’s ear as sound left his world, replaced by a constant ringing.

“Next time I fuckin’ catch you out here, it’s your last!” The so-called ‘Batgirl’ yelled in the man’s remaining good ear before moving the gun to the other side of his head and firing again.

Suddenly the hole in his hand was the least of his problems as the man doubled over, a hand clutching either side of his head as the contents of his stomach emptied themselves from either end.

A brush of air moved past his head as the Batgirl ascended to the rooftops of Burnside, the flashes of red and blue reflecting across the nearby store fronts assured her that the gunshots had attracted the proper authorities to the scene. There was no doubt in Rose’s mind that the man wouldn’t steal another purse for as long as he lived.

Which admittedly if the Batgirl caught him again, wouldn’t be long.