one more five horu drive to home...then ill stop spamming the status bar. promise. go back to only updating it once every few months
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1 yr ago
back in my home state. actually a real nice hotel compared to the last one that had cockroaches in the bathroom. so thats cool and good. ready to get home tomorrow. blehhhhjgkjgkjhatk
Instinctively, if not consciously, Amy realised she had met someone who would put up with her, and decided that she liked this Mina Mongoose person. The pink hedgehog laid back on the branch she was placed onto and stared up at the sky as she listened to Mina's story. She could practically imagine it! Only instead of Mina, Amy substituted her with herself in her imagination. Just for fun.
"Sorry you got kidnapped by all those nasty Robotnik goons. That guy seriously needs some friends that know how to tell him 'no!'" Amy Rose said emphatically.
"Tails!" Amy shot up. "Where's-" She glanced around. "You mean he's not with you? Shoot." Amy wasn't exactly sure what Mina meant by her 'not like that' comment, but she brushed it off. She scratched her hair as she watched the kid fly off like a heavy orange bird. "He's always testing some new gizmo. I guess he just likes being over everyones heads, no matter what. Be it flying, or talking about his toys. GPS? What the heck does that even mean? Girls Rock Skirts?" Amy shrugged, blowing air through her lips. "Who knows. Not me."
Dropping from branch to branch in a quick, if not nearly as graceful way, Amy landed with a heavy thud. "Come on, Vector! We can't be late! Well, I guess we can, since, the party's only really going to start once we all get there. So really we can take as long as we want, haha!" Despite this realisation of hers, Amy trailed eagerly after Tails, very much wanting to keep up with him.
Infact, no, she wanted to get there ahead of Tails. Vaguely predicting where Tails was flying, and with the new information of 'the falls', Amy began to run much fast, her little legs becoming a blur as her arms trailed behind her. Sticking her tongue out in concentration, she sped off in the vague direction of the falls, on track to get there before everyone else, if by herself. This was the real race. Once again, Amy had climbed up ontop of a tree and found out where Sonic was! Her strategy never failed!
Level 6: 14/60 Location: The Maw: The Depths Word Count: 817 Points Gained: 2 New EXP Balance--- Level 6 : 16/60
Adrenaline fading, the tired little brown-haired girl breathed a sigh of heavy relief and walked out of the elevator. Thankfully, her wounds had been healed by Blazermate but regretfully, her dressed was poked full of holes and the wounds were scarred. Once said adrenaline had faded, Sakura dropped to her knees in a huff, a hand over her chest. Heart racing, hands shaking, she was so elated to be out of that horrible room she wasn't even worried about the trials that no doubt lay ahead. At the very least, there would be no more Mockingbirds. Mister Carl and Mister Duerage and their fates were by far the worst part about that entire experience. As terrible as being turned into a helpless child, being beat up, burned with acid, exhausting herself and being on the brink of starvation were...it was guilt that stabbed into her the most. That's why she was on this stupid boat in the first place. Because the pain of not doing anything at all would be worst. The fear of not having fought at all outweighed the fear of death, as great as both were in her heart.
Sakura supported herself on her heavy arms and, grinning it and bearing it, groaned as her stomach convulsed and spasmed within her torso. There was nothing she could do. This was the worst hunger she had ever experienced, but she had starved herself before to hone her body and mind. Only by pushing oneself to ones limits, can one surpass them. But...she had also thrown up earlier. Was this a magical hunger? Or was she really running on empty? Sakura had a pounding head-ache, tummy-ache, and everywhere else-ache.
"This does blow..." Sakura could only commiserate with their feline friend, her voice quiet and weak.
Sakura looked down at her soft, child arms. This body, that she had so long ago out growned, was one of a complete, loving childhood. She got excercise, ate healthy but was allowed her fair share of sweets, and even learned how to swim. Being well protected meant she had grown up into what Sakura considered, for the most part, to be a complete personality. But now it was a curse, a child with no parents to protect her. Her pink dress, now pock-marked with holes, was almost an insult. Clenching her fists, Sakura closed her eyes and drew upon her resolve. A slightly different mental resource than pure spite, but just as effective. Some part of her mind was surprised at just how deep she could dig.
"But we can...we can do this. Just..." Sakura trailed off as Nadia chowed down on some stale bread that some strange kid had offered. Sakura set her hand on the side of her head and blinked in surprise. Y- yamai!Nadia-san! The Master of Masters back in town told us the food was cursed!" Sakura looked around at Mirage, Kamek, and Link.
Straining, Sakura pushed herself to her feet. Her knees were like jelly. Squinting through the dim light, she spotted the quiet child on the other side. The one that had offered Nadia food. Sakura was suspicious of him at first, but relented and felt bad when her compatriots scared him off.
At all the talk about eating, and the true nature of hte food, Sakura shook her head. "I... I dunno. What you're saying makes sense, Bella. This is a terrible, terrible place, and I don't trust even one thing about it." She said. But at the same time, she felt like she said it so quietly no one could hear her. Had she even said it at all? God, her head hurt.
As her friends began to eat the definitely cursed food, she shook her head. Clearing her throat and taking a deep breath, her eyes widened. "I don't like this. Blazermate-san, you have to protect us, okay? Mister Mirage, you can't eat any food, either....everybody else! Almost all of our most capable members in their child forms just...just ate that stuff, and we don't know what it could do." Sakura explained, holding a hand over her belly.
Falling quiet, Sakura held her other hand over her mouth. Some runaway kid had gotten their attention, told them to use their key...somewhere. On the padlock to the door! That had to let them out. Sakura was glad to see they had an ally in this place.
"Thank you!" Sakura whispered. "Come on, Mister Link." She gestured for the Hero of Hyrule to follow her and the boy as she eagerly trotted behind him. "We're all busting out of here," She whispered to him. "You and your friends should come with us!" She said as she stood by the door, looking hungrily up at the unlocked padlock. Hungry in a different way, Sakura was desperate to escape, her eyes glazing over slightly.
Nuri traced an armored gauntlet along the enscriptions on the wall.
"The skeletons are here because the place is abandoned." Nuri said, an edge of 'duh' in her voice. "This place was lost to war. Without the people inside, it's not a church. Just a ruin." Nuri said.
"Speaking of people. Destroy that skull at once, Trina. It's disrespectful to allow that foul magic to remain on someone's body." Nuri demanded coolly, but firm, her voice for once without it's usual amiable manner.
Nuri turned and looked at the eager fairy who wanted to scout so badly. Frowning under her helmet, Nuri sighed. "If you really think it's a good idea, sure, go ahead. Personally I think you're better off sticking with the group, but, let's give your way a shot, see if you prove me wrong."
The Paladin walked over to her Cleric brother, kneeling down next to him and picking up a bone. Carved bones and charms, cultural works of a different species. "Looks like...goblins, to me, brother." She surmised. "Our relics often appeal to their greedy sensibilities."
She lifted the visor of her helmet and rubbed her chin, glancing at Leon. "Goblins are cruel, crafty beasts. I've never known one to negotiate. If they win, they'll kill us and eat us for dinner. Not necessarily in that order, either."
Chuckling ruefully, she shrugged and glanced over at their only useful Coin, Neffy. "Sorry. Just be careful not to end up in a soup, okay?"
sorry time got away from me. i'm still used to going to bed at 2 AM and roleplaying at 1 AM...I need to get used to writing at like 7 AM in the morning before school. i'll try to post sometime this week, i still want to do it. i am having fun with this rp and as my off-brand Amy Rose
Yonaka crossed one leg over the other as Mai-chan went over her possible contacts and leads. Kenzo Kishi, like the prime minister? What? A look of confusing passed over Yonaka's face as she tried to figure out how that kid was prime minister of the student council. It quickly faded as Yonaka assumed Mai Li misspoke or something. Another part-time worker, like one of her leads, Denki.
The other name, Yonaka recognized. "I was thinking about going after Mitsu-chan, too. Those athletic people love me. I mean, look at me." Yonaka flexed her bicep, constructed of strong, ropey muscle.
Yonaka gave Mai a confused look when she seemed to be offended at Yonaka's simple statement she wasn't going to be violent. "Well, shucks, Mai Li. Maybe I was talking about myself. Not everything's about you, you know." Yonaka rolled her eyes.
Poor Mai Li was all torn up about looking like a little kid when she was, infact, a little kid. Maybe Yonaka was too privileged, (being the ultra-beautiful, tall, dark, marblesque and dangerous goddess that she'd always been,) to relate to Mai Li. But she laughed at Mai Li's joke anyway. It was important to keep up a tough face and good spirits. At least Mai seemed to understand that.
"Oh, I'm sure. Listen. Let's go find this prime minister guy. I'll lay on the charm if you want, but I really think you should have a go, first. Play nice. If you're really low on confidence, remember that I'll have your back." Yonaka rose to her full height, looming over Mai. "I dunno where this guy is, so, you're gonna have to lead me too him."
on the complete opposite end of the murder spectrum from Mister Castle, here comes Cassandra. it's kind of a long one...went under several drafts, haha. But here it is. I've been meaning to write a big fight scene with Cassandra for a while now. I'm sure i'll improve with time and practice.
anyway. I've gone ahead and nabbed an obscure Mutant from the X-Men corner of the marvel universe for this next arc. Let me know if that's a problem.
That tattoo parlor artist lady at the beginning gave Bruno the power of dragons breath with her tattoo by accident. Now it'll be a little bit of a mystery as mutant incidents start increasing in a localized area Batgirl patrols often. And she'll have to save Bruno from the trouble he's in, whatever that ends up being.
I've set the Bruno encounter at the end at an undisclosed time so, Cassandra won't be immediately aware of the danger for a while or until I want her too, so she can still be around for other Gotham interactions until she gets distracted by the events of the story beats.
Bruno, by the way, is also a gender bent version of an obscured Batman villain that I consider very...poorly designed, lol.
Batgirl decided against pizza after all. She needed someone to talk at her. Sorry, Bruno. Instead, she was going to visit an old friend. One of the first people she ever truly met in Gotham. It wasn’t long after her dramatic night time escapade from the camp that saved her that Cass found herself on the brink of collapse again from the cold.
Jackie Fujikawa Yoneyama took her in first. The owner and proprietor of Jackie’s Noodles.
Making sure she wasn’t followed, Batgirl knocked on the back door of the ramen restaurant. A steel door squashed into a hollow alleyway where dumpsters and cats waited quietly.
Jackie opened the door and furrowed her brow at the woman in front of her.
“I liked your first costume better.” She said, Batgirl blinked and then looked down at her lithe, dark, armored outfit.
“What’s with the shoulder plates? Aren’t you supposed to be sneaky?” Jackie set a hand on her hip.
Batgirl raised her arm and then knocked on the metal. Glancing around she pushed her way inside.
“I didn’t invite you in. It’s impolite, Cass!” Jackie criticised, though she was smiling at the back of her guests head as she dove into the secluded kitchen. Batgirl hummed, frowning and turning to face the woman. Bats crossed her arms.
“...Fine. Batgirl.” Jackie relented with a smile.
Batgirl beamed.
“Tchuh. You sure are proud of yourself for weaseling that name off of the old Batgirl, aren’t you? Relentless little parasite, huh?”
Batgirl nodded.
“So. What brings you into my ramen shop?”
The dark vigilante extended a single, folded twenty dollar bill. A can of cheap ramen noodles cost a buck at most. Jackie rolled her eyes and accepted the money. It didn’t help that Batgirl didn’t understand the concept of change and never took the ‘free money’ when offered. Jackie would just have to donate it later, or something, since there was no way she could really accept money from this clueless kid.
Batgirl disrobed right then and there in the kitchen, piling her armor and most of her outfit in the corner. Only the skin-tight white leotard underneath her outfit, form fitting pants, and boots were on now. An odd outfit but nothing that screamed ‘I am Batgirl’.
Jackie’s Noodles was mostly empty, especially at this time of night, but a grandpa was in the corner enjoying some noodles away from it all. The place wasn’t run down, but it was definitely home-cooked. Nestled in between several other brick buildings, the restaurant had the looks of the 80’s. Not as a deliberately evocative design, but because it’s owner ran the shop back then and the old lady didn’t feel like having it changed.
Soon a steaming bowl of noodles was placed in front of the teenager. Jackie scoffed, offended and baffled, as Batgirl reached into the hot bowl with her bare fingers. Jackie smacked Batgirl on the head and she winced apologetically. The owner shoved a pair of chopsticks into Batgirl's hand and she got to work shovelling noodles into her mouth with those instead.
Waving to the other customer, Jackie sat down on the booth across from Batgirl.
“So. What’s on your mind, young one?”
Jackie blinked in surprise as Batgirl pushed the now empty bowl of noodles in front of her. Never got used to that.
Batgirl sighed and stared at the window at the street. At first she focused on the buildings, the neon, the reflection of the moon in one of the perma-puddles of the streets. Then she focused on her own image, back-lit by the restaurant.
Jackie reached into her jacket pocket and produced a small pocket dictionary type book book.
Batgirl smiled, small, and signed…
<Bored.> Her fingers moved in the intricate, recognizable patterns of ASL.
Jackie didn’t need to consult the book for that one. She’d started to learn sign language ever since she met the young Cass about a year ago.
“Bored? Bored how? Aren’t you...running around all day long? Getting into scraps?”
Batgirl nodded slowly, and then shrugged, a ‘meh’ expression on her face.
“You are a freak, you know that?” Jackie said good-naturedly, shaking her head. Batgirl giggled girlishly with an admitting nod.
Batgirl thought for a moment.
<B->
<Goo-.
Even her hand had a stutter, it felt like. Language struggled to come to her in any form, even one only using the body. Still, of everything she had learned, ASL appealed to her the most.
Jackie waited patiently.
<Goons.>
This word made the older woman squint, and she consulted the pocket dictionary for a moment.
“Goons, huh? Big man not letting you take on the heavy hitters?”
Batgirl nodded again.
“Well why don’t you just...ask him?”
The girl glanced down, poking her fingers anxiously together.
“Mmh. Here’s my advice. Actions speak louder than words, don’t they? You’ve always been that type of girl. If you think you’re ready to take on some tougher guys, then do it. Just do it.”
Batgirl’s eyes widened in surprise. Partially because she came to receive the exact opposite of that advice. Mainly because…
(Take them on! You’re invincible!)
...of that. But if even Miss Yoneyama was saying it, then maybe it really was a good idea..? Find a big bad guy and just take them on?
(No, don’t take them on. Wipe the floor with them. You don’t need superpowers, you’re already superhuman.)
“Just-” Jackie backtracked a bit. “Don’t be stupid about it. Hmm. I’m regretting giving you this advice now that I’ve seen that look on your face.”
Batgirl was bouncing slightly, but chilled out. Jackie was right. She had to be smart about this. If she went up against a more powerful villain and lost (that won’t happen) or worse, got someone else hurt (literally impossible), then she might be punished. But what if she asked, and he said no?
No, you know what? I’m gonna do it. I can win. I’m getting rusty, only fighting common street chumps. (If you can call it fighting.)
...Maybe I should hang around someone who really might convince me otherwise. I want to be sure.
(You ARE sure!)
Yes, I am! But, maybe it can wait one more night?
Batgirl groaned, face palming. One more night of this sidelines crap sounded tortuous.
Well, it’s my own fault, isn’t it? Batman hardly knows anything about me, I’m such a shut in. Maybe if I actually tried hanging out with people they’d trust me more. Duh doi!
(Yes but, we both know you don’t like doing that. You saw it before I did. You could put both chopsticks in Jackie’s eyes and she wouldn’t even have time to blink. She’s old, frail, and slow.)
Growling, Cassandra set her hand on the table and clenched her fist. Jackie frowned, recognizing what was going on. “Sorry, young one. Must be hard for you to see the world like that.”
Frustrated, Batgirl stood up to leave. Vanishing into the kitchen, Jackie followed shortly thereafter only to see the armor and the clothes gone. She was fast. Jackie wondered how many people would dip out of social interactions if they could just disappear witohut a trace like that. Opening the door, which had somehow also closed silently, she peered up into the cool night. A cold, abandoned alley-way was her only companion.
"...That Batman ought to teach her some manners."
It had been eleven months since Bruno Tilgen had first met the Batgirl. The new Batgirl, not the old one with the red hair. Back then she wasn't Batgirl, not really, but the name politics of the Bat-Family were a mystery to the criminal world. How people learned to start calling 'Batgirl' 'Batwoman' and 'Robin' 'Red Robin' was beyond him. Did they spread the news themselves discretely? He didn't know.
Currently, Bruno was sitting in a homey little trailer house on the far outskirts of Gotham city. His hulking form was cradling a beautiful little boy. His name was Bartholomew. A white tank top covered up Bruno's dragon tattoo, which had inturn devoured those evil markings underneath. In the kitchen, Bruno's gorgeous wife Helena was cooking dinner. The TV was on, some game of football, and Bruno held a little bottle in the child's mouth. This quiet little moment...Bruno felt like he didn't deserve it. What did he do to get redeemed? Sure, he had a kid. That made him want to give up the life of crime. But what about all that hate in his heart? Where did it go off too? Bruno wondered if it was just hidden inside. Waiting for an excuse or a moment to come out.
When he first met the Batgirl (the new one, not the old one) he was nothing more than a common henchman to her, no doubt. At the time, she was no more than a kid in a set of pajamas, though, so. Maybe they were even. Of all the things Bruno had been in his life, 'humbled' wasn't one of them. Ever since he was a kid he could always rely on his fists to intimidate others and get his way. Ontop of that, his experience and self-styled training had made him a formidable opponent. More than that; one of the best bruisers in the business.
So when he was having his men beat up on a squealer, and he saw some scrawny little girl in a home-made suit, he didn't expect much.
Percival, Jamie, Leonard, and Christopher. All four of 'em were under Bruno's command. They were good, solid men for the cause. Together they were teaching a snitch, Jacob, a lesson. They were going to beat the shit out of him, and then kill him. They were well within Aryan Brotherhood territory. Infact, this little beatdown was going down right outside a bar populated entirely with white supremacists. Bruno’s Bar, named after it's proprietor. Out front, “Bruno’s” lit up the street with a flickering red neon light.
Batgirl had a sense of smell like a shark. Violence and blood always drew her in, and she always responded in kind. Bruno now knew she had a good heart, but she was not afraid to hurt people. None of those 'super heroes' were. Never mistake kindness for weakness.
All of them noticed her when Jacob noticed her. She must have let him know she was here, because if she wanted to, she could sneak up on near enough anyone. When everyone turned around, they saw her descend from some kind of narrow rope, a smile on her face...
...and they began to laugh. This immediately wiped the heroic smirk off her lips and she stood up straight, frowning (more of a pout, really) and placing her fists on her hips.
Jacob, however, was willing to take any savior he could get. If she had that bat symbol on her chest, she had to be good for something, right?
The girl cut a slash across the air, and then pointed her finger to the alleyway to the left of the encounter. 'No more', she was saying. 'Time to leave.' Backlit by the evening street at dusk, she was painted red by the stained window panes of the bar's back entrance. Chatter and music were muffled by the wall.
Even with being as deep into gang territory as they were, nobody wanted to risk shooting a gun. Sure, the floods had slowed down police response time significantly. But why push their luck? It wasn't like the good old days where one could rely on a crooked cop to look the other way. Interfering with the law was a bit riskier. No, best they take care of this quietly.
"Percy." Bruno had said. At the time, he was shirtless. Two bold, red, nazi swastikas were tattooed on his chest. Much to his shame now, he was going to have what he considered a harmless child in a costume killed. "Kill her. We don't have time for this, there's a game on."
Percy nodded. "Yes sir, right away, sir." Oh, good Lord above. Almost worse than all the violence and bloodshed was the way they LARPed as an army. Almost worse. It was just embarrassing to look back on, now.
Producing a switchblade, Percival nodded to Jamie, and he shouldered his baseball bat. Together they went to take out this would be vigilante child. Regular heroes of the human race, the both of them, as far as they were concerned. It probably helped that she was an asian girl. Sometime Bruno wondered where those boys were now. He hadn't seen them in a while.
Of course as we all know, Batgirl didn't die that day. Moving forward in a blur, she took the fight to her enemies. Percy was on her right, Jamie on her left. Sweeping one of Jamie's legs out from under him with one leg, she hopped up into the air and cannon kicked the off-balanced Jamie. He practically flew backward into the wall, smashing into it and going limp. The strike launched Batgirl right into Percy, who's knife flew useless out of his hand as she wrapped her arm around his neck and spun him right into the hard ground. Bruno blinked in surprise.
Leonard, knowing how this hero stuff worked, drew a knife from his pocket and went to take poor Jacob hostage. But the thin line went through Bruno's legs. It was sharp on the end, apparently, puncturing into Leonard's hand. Screaming out, he was pulled far, far forward, towards Bruno's legs. The big man turned around to see Batgirl but as she pulled, she flipped over Bruno and landed directly on Christopher, stomping his head into the ground. It must have been a jump of thirty feet or more, and ten feet high.
Leonard began to choke, for in a single movement with her wrist she pulled his arm up and wrapped it around his neck. A few seconds of squeezing later and he fell unconscious. All of it happened so fast Bruno couldn't act on it. Now inbetween Jacob and Bruno was Batgirl, only her limbs and a sharp wire to her name. Some utilty belt.
"...Boys!" Bruno shouted. "We got a problem!" Through the glass window, he observed the men inside starting to react.
Batgirl looked down at Jacob, and then jerked her head towards the alleyway exit on their right. Then, she whipped out her wire towards Bruno's face. The supremascist already had his hands raised defensively, and the sharp thing glanced right off his arm. Batgirl was a little surprised that she didn't even seem to draw blood. Bruno was no mutant or metahuman. But like Batgirl, his body was a weapon. He was to be one of the most dangerous men in the Fourth Reich someday. He would serve under the most powerful members of their future society. At the very least, he was already a powerful lieutenant in Gotham.
Batgirl kept up this barrage, and Jacob used the opportunity to escape. Bruno went to chase after him, but Batgirl wrapped the wire around his wrist. In a flash of movement that Batgirl seemed to predict, he pulled her towards him at high speed. A clothesline was coming her way, but the warrior curled up into a ball and pushed right off Bruno with her legs. He stumbled back, blocking it with his arm. She crashed right through the red window and into the bar. As Bruno pulled on the wire connecting the two, he realised she had severed the connection. The weapon would be of no more use to her.
Rolling to a stop, she shot up to her hands and feet. Looking at her were twenty-seven toughs preparing to investigate the commotion outside. A smart phone hooked up into a speaker system, playing country music, paused. The last song had just come to an end. Batgirl brushed some glass off her shoulders. A ceiling fan whirred. Glasses were set down. The confederate flag loomed on a wall. Football was playing, mute, on an old TV set in the corner. Corridor shaped, the bar was a long line with a main entrance, a side door, a door to the kitchen to the left of the counter, and a final door that lead to the general bathrooms. One pool table, game ongoing, was available in the corner. Besides the bar stools themselves, several round and rectangular tables were available to sit at. It was a busy night, but in these trying times, people liked coming together.
Bruno saw Jacob disappear around a distant corner. Growling, he turned away and approached the broken window. Observing the frozen scene, he made eye contact with a confused man who turned so stare at Bruno.
Picking a shard of glass out of the back of her hand, Batgirl flicked it onto the wooden floor panelling. Like a pin dropping, it broke the silence.
"Get her!" He commanded.
It happened fast. Everyone around Batgirl shot out of their seats, while people further away rose slower, the fight still a short distance away. The first of the twenty-seven men in the bar went for a straight punch directly to the side of her head. Leaning back slightly, she had it pass by the tip of her nose. Snatching it, she rotated under it and forced him to his knees. There was a pop and his arm was dislocated. A swift knee to the face silences his alarm.
Twenty-six. Thump. Batgirl smirks. A silent gesture says everything for her. ‘Come and get it.’
Music once again filled the tavern as the bartender’s phone randomly selected a song from their preferred sections.
This band, though fitting their genre, had yet to be blacklisted. It was a bit too youthful and subversive for their taste. Fun, Bruno had later found, wasn’t really allowed in their belief system. Only posturing. Two men obliged Batgirl’s request first. One from the front, one from the back. Navigating between chairs and tables wasn’t easy in such a short notice. Everyone was going to hone in on Batgirl’s position eventually, of course.
The one behind her went to wrap his arms around her in a bearhug, but she slipped right between the narrow gap between his legs like she was made of nothing but shadows. Swiftly she kicked his groin and then his back, sending him into his compatriot. They were both down for now, but not out. Another man produced a knife, but she got to him first, chopping into his throat and then slamming his head on the table he was rising from. Twenty-five. She had to reach up a little to do it, for she was one of the shortest people in the room.
Three came at her at once. One man just wanted to bowl into her, the others intent on beating her down. Using the blade of her forearm on his shoulder blade, she stopped the tackling man and then cranked his neck, spinning him to the ground. With a rotating kick she knocked the second man backwards, ducked under the third man’s punch, and delivered a jab into his liver. Like he was hit with a bean bag gun he dropped, vomit reaching his throat. Twenty-four.
Sliding forward she elbowed the second man in the nose. Yanking him over her shoulder, she slammed him back-to-back onto the tackling man, flattening both. Dust kicked up from the ground and they both felt themselves rattle hard against the foundations of the building. Neither of them would be getting up. Twenty-two.
There was a deep chuckle to her right. Rising from his bar stool, a nearly seven foot tall man wearing a thick fur coat loomed over her. Nearly four hundred pounds of protected muscle. He took a practiced fighting position. A grin on his face. “You’re-” His knee hyperextended as her foot cracked into it. Dropping onto the other one, his raised arms were bypassed by a palm thrust to the nose that sent him reeling and unconscious to the ground. Twenty-one.
Now people were beginning to take this fight more seriously. Nobody had had much time to react or evaluate the situation. Knives, bats, and clubs were being drawn. Some toughs reached for guns.
Bruno was still outside, watching from through the broken window. In disbelief, he shouted. “Just shoot her!” But nobody wanted to risk hitting their allies. She was in the thick of them all. Normally, the fight would be over by now!
Batgirl leapt forward, going on the offensive. It truly was like being attacked by a five foot five flying rodent. One man raised his hands in anticipation, preparing to defend himself, but the moving shadow over took him. He doubled over and ate dirt, his legs hanging over his head for a moment for laying flat. Twenty. Rolling forward, she thrust her leg from a sitting position into a man’s gut. Front flipping, yet flying backwards and up, he crashed onto a table. Realistically speaking, a girl her size shouldn’t be able to produce that much power with all of her body. But here she was, delivering gunshot strikes and smashing into her enemies like they were made of paper mache.
“She’s a mutant!” One man declared, holding up his pistol.
That was nineteen. Onto the next one. Or rather, four. Indeed, four, armed with baseball bats and pipes, had finally managed to surround her. All of them swang at her at the same time, and she slipped between the blows like water between their fingers. One brought his baseball bat down on her. She punched it, meeting force with force, and for a brief baffled moment he stared down at his shattered weapon. A palm thrust to the chest knocked him out and sent him sprawling into someone else’s legs. Eighteen.
As for the other three, Batgirl crouched on one leg and spun, sweeping the legs out from under all three at once. It was like they were in the way of hazardous machinery. All of them tumbled to the ground. Wrapping her arms around the thug in the middle’s leg, she threw herself back-first on top of him and wrenched it upward, breaking it. Her fists shot out on either side at once, knocking the other two out cleanly. An elbow to the mouth silenced the painful shout of the leg-broken thug. Fifteen.
A machete came chopping towards her head from above. Trapping the blade between her palms she projected it cleanly out of its wielders hands and embedded it into the ceiling. She brought her legs up over and past her own head, flipped, pressed her palms against the floor, and propelled herself feet first into the wielders head. Sprawling, he was knocked out and she was in the air. Fourteen.
Bruno had been undergoing a struggle of his own. The reinforced steel door was locked tight, for some reason. He remembered being frustrated. He hadn’t been out there long, but from the grunts, shouts, and impact noises, his boys weren’t winning.
“Open the damn door!” Bruno growled in frustration, pounding his fist on it. The windows were too small for him to easily get through. If he dared, he felt like Batgirl would just woosh over to him and beat the hell out of him while he was still halfway in. Having underestimated her once, he was not quite stupid enough to do it again.
Another machete wielder was waiting for Batgirl’s jump arc to fall right onto the edge of his blade. But she spun in mid air and kicked it as he swung, the heel of her foot collided with the blade and bent it out of shape, knocking it out of his hands. When she landed, she charged her shoulder into his center of mess and sent him soaring over the bar counter and into the many glass bottles and the mirror. The bartender duked, and when he emerged, he produced a handgun. Of course, she was already upon him by then, wrapping her arms and legs around him.With a squeeze and a pop of his neck, he fell unconscious. Twelve.
Bruno burst down the door, his strength and speed announcing themselves to everyone in the room. They had seen her vanish behind the bar counter, and while they had a moment, seven of the twelve remaining toughs, thirteen if you counted the newly arrived Bruno, produced handguns.
“When she shows her face,” Bruno stated clearly, “waste her.”
Batgirl peaked her head up for a fraction of a second, clocking the entire room and situation without being noticed. A bottle from one of the many broken shelves was rocketed at one of the overhanging lamps. It shattered, and toughs fired their guns without target or reason. Another bottle was flung at yet another light, and Bruno realised what was going on. When the TV also broke, it was clear to all that it wouldn’t be long before the entire bar was bathed in darkness. With only the barest light from the outside night world and the distant blue light of the bartender’s phone keeping them company. That damn song was still playing, hooked up to the bar’s sound system.
Bruno, ever prepared, reached into his pouch and produced a flare. Lighting it with a pull, the chemical reactions sizzled it to life and preemptively lit up the room with a red glow. Broken glass shattered and scattered, and soon the bar was lit with nothing except that flare he had tossed onto the ground.
“I’ve got five more in here.” Bruno said, handing one flare to the guy on his left. When he did, though, he realised he was no longer there. Someone shouted in surprise and confusion. Gunshots went off, punctuating the red glow with bursts of sharp yellow. In those bursts he saw Batgirl on and in between the ceiling beams, moving manically, animalistically around the room like a flying rodent stuck in an attic. Every time he thought he spotted her, she was in a different place.
That was eleven, ten, nine. Bruno picked up a now unused gun. Flare in his hand, he lit it. “There!” He threw it at Batgirl right as she hit the ground. Four handguns were trained on her from less than twenty feet away, a light source at her feet. At that moment, she should have been toast. Bruno pulled the trigger, expecting the girl to jerk back and then slump to the ground as he’d seen so many times before. There was a cavalcade of gunfire. But then Bruno saw it. For the first time, he witnessed how she ‘saw’ them all. Saw them for who they were and everything they wanted to do and be. Their bullets tore the air, the wall, and clattered onto the street behind her. But none of them hit. Pops of yellow light illuminated her weaving between every vector of death like a thread through a needle. Easy side steps, graceful pivoting of her torso.
The man in front knew it was over when he felt her hand cusp his wrist and push the gun up towards the ceiling. A great, pulling force overtook him, willing him over her shoulder, through empty space, and crashing into the wooden and brick wall of the bar. Eight.
His gun was removed from his hand and whipped towards the man to his right, his trigger finger breaking. Batgirl had turned her back on an armed man, and surely, he thought, he had her now. But alas, she sidestepped before he pulled the trigger, and his bullet smacked into the wooden paneling. Her leg lashed out without looking, and bent his arm out of shape. Spinning, she kicked him across the face and spiralled him to the ground. Seven.
It was a full three sixty, bringing her around just in time to catch a punch heading for face. At this point the thug wasn’t surprised at the idea that this little girl could stop his jaw-dislocating punch despite being nowhere near his weight class, but feeling it was different from seeing it. It was like he punched a springboard or a sandbag, and then her fingers wrapped around his hand and pushed his wrist back, breaking it. She jammed two fingers under his ribs and he’d wake up several hours later in the gang's infirmary. Six.
Batgirl felt him before she saw him. She leapt up and over Bruno’s cut kick aimed for her back. Bruno was in the middle of the road when it came to height and size when compared to his fellow gangsters, but Batgirl had perceived that just like her, he could fight well above his weight class. He dashed underneath her to meet her while she was still in the air. But she caught onto a ceiling beam and redirected, launching herself to the ground. As Bruno closed the short gap between them, a tough launched another punch at her in the dark. Sweeping underneath a nearby round table, she emerged from the other side and kicked it up and into him, the flat of the table crushing his nose and face, sending glasses flying. Five.
At this point, Bruno knew he was running out of time. No doubt his remaining members were ready to break and run. He had to show that they could still win, which he believed they could. Now that he was probably in the fray. He grabbed the still upright table and swung it at Batgirl. She backflipped away from it, and someone who had picked up a gun fired it at her. While she managed to avoid that shot, Bruno surged forward and finally forced Batgirl to block. The blow pushed into her forearm, and through his knuckles Bruno felt the ropey, taught muscle underneath her sleeve and skin, dense and twisted.
Batgirl skidded back, and Bruno brought his fist around for another punch, and then another, and another. A quick combination of powerful blows that were all deflected or dodged, but he was on her, not letting her get away. She brought her elbow in for a counter attack, but Bruno braced himself and swung down. Both hits connected, and though it felt like he had sprinted chest first into the end of a flag pole, it was very gratifying to see Batgirl finally have to grit her teeth and take a hit.
Batgirl rolled backwards along the ground, causing a few more shots to miss. She vanished under yet another table, and Bruno realised that she had snatched up and snuffed out one of his flares as she did so. “The bathroom light!” Bruno shouted. One thug without a gun made a mad dash across the bar to try and get to the bathroom. The lights were still on in there and would light up the bar.
The round wooden table she was under propelled towards Bruno, utterly ruining a game of poker. Without hesitation he punched through it, breaking it in half around him. When it was done, he saw that she had gotten to the gunman and disabled him with a high kick. Next to him a tough scampered away, frantically attempting to block or avoid her strikes, but she pounced on top of him, pinching under his arms and sending him collapsing to the ground. Four and three. Only two of Bruno’s men remained standing.
The nearest man began to flee, putting distance between him and Batgirl. She chased him down, but a broken half of a table interrupted her. Dodging backwards, she had to reckon with Bruno who had picked up a fallen gun. Firing off two shots, she dodged both, and on the third, the gun clicked. As she approached she swatted the gun out of the air as he threw it at her. From his sheathe he produced a thick-bladed combat knife and swung it out at Batgirl, giving her pause. Cartwheeling away she crushed the last flare under her foot, submerging the bar in total darkness. In this interminable yet brief moment, the final thug finally opened the bathroom door and white light spilled into the tavern. Bruno reacted fast, slashing out at Batgirl’s abdomen. He cut fabric and drew blood, but it was a superficial wound at most.
Three, four! Two of his troops rose unsteadily to their feet, recuperating from the hits they took earlier. They wanted revenge. Bruno kept swiping with his knife, forcing the vigilante to retreat. He was too fast and too powerful to be easily countered and taken out while he had support. Light caught her face, and Bruno remembered being frustrated at the wide smile plastered there. Both recovered men scrambled to reload fallen guns and begin firing. Casting a long shadow on the ground, Batgirl took stock of the situation once more. Bruno, the biggest threat, in front of her, and a man behind him. One man far to her right, taking cover in the bathroom and guarding the light. Two injured men to her far left, loading guns.
Surprising Bruno, Batgirl’s retreat immediately stopped. He felt her hands gingerly touch the back of his bare shoulders as she flipped over his head and to his unfortunate teammate. Turning, Bruno swatted Batgirl’s trailing leg, knocking her arc off course. She landed and had to duck back from her targets defensive swing. She kicked him away and had to roll out of the way as Bruno stomped down hard on the space where her head had been. Click click, guns were loaded. Now they were aiming and waiting for their moment to fire. She had dodged towards the gunmen. Bruno’s fighting partner ducked to the ground, while Bruno braved the possibility of friendly fire to take advantage of Batgirl’s forced evasive action. Ducking under a table, she escaped from Bruno’s grab and then had to dodge out of the way as he picked it up and aimed to slam it down on her. She weaved between more gunfire, but took a hit as Bruno threw a chair at her back. With a quiet grunt she stumbled forward, and a bullet grazed her shoulder.
Bruno threw another chair and it missed, slamming into the bar counter and breaking the bartender's phone, abruptly ending the music.
She cartwheeled forward, turning just as Bruno shoulder charged into her. Pushing off of him, she backrolled gracefully, taking no damage, but found herself right between two gunmen. Acting on instinct, they both pointed their guns at her. Bruno saw the gears turning in her head. Both gunmen fired at nearly the same time. Batgirl lunged towards one, and as she did, reached out and purposefully took a bullet in the arm. It didn’t pass through somehow, her body was too durable. Bruno barely saw it happen, but later he would realise that that bullet was at an angle right where it would hit the other gunman in the head. All she could think to do at the time was sacrifice her own body, so she did.
One stopped firing as he realised his mistake, but the one she lunged at was palm thrusted up, bouncing off the wall and put down for the rest of the fight. Back to three. Bruno didn’t relent, but this time he over-extended. As he engaged in another combination of punches, she deflected one punch cleanly and chopped him in the throat. This caught Bruno off guard, and there was a rattling noise like a machine gun. Only as the pain and the breathlessness reached him did he realise that her arms were working overtime to deliver a barrage of rapid-fire blows to his bare chest. Like she was using the swastikas tattooed there as target practice. This finished with a palm thrust using her good arm that caught under his upper chest and launched him up, right to the ceiling, where he crashed into and broke one of the ceiling beams with his back. In disbelief, Bruno fell face first flat on the ground with a heavy thud, pieces of rood raining on top of him.
Batgirl held her bullet wounded arm as she casually, unmolested, dodged bullet after bullet until she literally single handedly took the man down. She broke his wrist, pulling him by the arm, and did a light thrust with her finger into his neck. He collapsed, paralyzed. That was three and four both down. There were two men left.
Plus Bruno, it turns out. Brimming with silent fury he emerged, breathless, from the pile of wood. Batgirl’s eyes widened with surprise as he managed to grab her slender neck. Squeezing her as hard as he could, he lifted her up, her legs trailing behind, and then crushed his empty hand into the floor. It took Bruno a moment to process the pain of the wood splinters in his palm, and the fact that somehow, someway, he had lost her. She’d brought up her hands to his fingers, pulled them swiftly loose, and then hooked her feet around a ceiling beam. Bruno turned and cut the empty air with a knife, fearing she would attack him from behind. Instead she traversed the ceiling beams.
Bruno tried to wheeze out a warning, but he was exhausted. Bruno’s fighting partner from earlier ran to his side to pick up another fallen gun. Batgirl’s shadow appeared directly in front of the light beaming from the bathroom. The man inside yelped and shut it, locking the thick wooden door tight. Imagine his surprise when her fist punctured the wood like a battering wrap, wrapped around his collar, and slammed his face into the door.
Batgirl turned to face the last two standing thugs. Bruno, and the one lucky guy who had avoided punishment so far. Both of them aimed semi-loaded guns in her direction. Batgirl went left as yet more shots rang out. She ducked under a table, fluttered under another, bounced off a wall into the ceiling beams and then dropped somewhere. Both of them lost sight of her in the newly restored darkness. Bruno reached for his flare again.
Thwack, crap, swish. There was an odd sound and something pushing through the air. Bruno rolled to the side, ducking behind the counter. An object whizzed past his head and cracked the wood. The lucky man ate teeth as a similar small object smashed into his mouth. He cried out, took another object in the ribs, and then two more, further sounds of snapping from the other side of the bar. He collapsed as Bruno lit his flare. Pool balls, he noticed now. Without looking, he tossed the flare into the center of the bar. Poking his bald head up over the counter, he blinked as he saw Batgirl with a pool cue, dexterously lining up a shot. She smacked the tip into the orange striped 13 ball, it nicked off the edge and careened towards him. He ducked as it smashed into the counter and bounced into the wall. Maddeningly, he heard a smug chuckle from the other side of the room.
“So.” Bruno managed to raise his voice, holding his gun up and leaning against his cover. “You save some punk snitch, come into my bar, and fuck up everyone and everything in it?” He asked. “Takin’ bullets for people? Not killin’ anyone? Comin’ at us in bat pajamas? For this fuckin’ city? Why?”
No response. “What? Got nothing to say?”
“You little bastard.” Bruno chuckled ruefully. Then, as fast as he could, he stood up and aimed his gun at Batgirl. She was closer to him, only a few feet away, having walked over while he talked. Much to his surprise, she had pulled down the confederate flag, a symbol that had no meaning to her at all, and flung it towards him, flat and flapping in the air. He fired into it, missing entirely.
Spinning through the air, she came at him feet first, so that she would land behind him while facing him. Grabbing the corners of the flag she pulled it down and wrapped it around his face. In some kind of strange visual metaphor, he was blinded by it and nearly helpless as pistol-like punches slammed into his face and nose. When he went to throw it and her off of him, she just went with it, now wrapping his legs around his torso. Like the beat of a drum, her fist rocked his skull. Each one was like a bullet.
How he stayed conscious, he’s still not sure. If he were to guess, at that moment, he simply rose to her challenge. He backed up into the wall to try and crush her against it, but only stunned himself further. She wasn’t there anymore. Silent, she landed in front of him. He tore the flag off his bloodied face. Roaring, he struck out with her. She dodged it and used her knuckle to jab into his elbow. It went limp and heavy. Then she went low, poking her finger into knee, which also went dead. His knife came out of nowhere, slicing towards her face. Effortlessly now that they were alone, she pushed the arm aside and pinched his wrist, and static filled his hand. The knife clattered to the floor, useless.
“You…” Bruno slurred. “You can’t save this city from itself. You stupid fucking hero.” He spat blood onto the yellow symbol on her chest. She regarded him silently. Backlit by the red flare, he couldn’t make out her face.
“It’s impure...corrupt...diseased. The only way it can be saved...is with fire! Our children, the real children of America will...will rise!” Bruno wasn’t sure why he was saying what he was saying, and Batgirl could tell. He was just trying to spew some party line bullshit to go down with dignity, expecting her to finish him off at any moment. But it didn’t come.
“...what? What are you waiting for? You beat the shit outta everyone else!” Bruno demanded, trying to gesticulate. He was like a puppet with some of his strings cut. He collapsed onto the wall behind him, keeping his head up.
“We’re soldiers. In a war.” Bruno kept talking, and Batgirl said nothing. The only reason Batgirl showed up was to save the man they were going to kill, and the only reason she ended up in the bar was because it was the easiest way to avoid Bruno’s attack. After that, she just lost her footing and got swept away in the river of violence. Jacob could be anywhere right now. He could be dead, even. Wasn’t she supposed to be protecting people?
Batgirl brought her hand over her bullet wounded arm.
“...how the fuck am I gonna pay for this shit?” Bruno wondered aloud, letting his head rest against the wall. He sniffed. Fallen thugs in the bar started groaning and shuffling about. With a quick scan of her eyes, Batgirl could tell they would be no threat for hours to come.
“I mean...what would've happened if I just told everyone to fuck off?” Bruno asked. “Like, instead of ‘get her’. Just told everyone to leave you alone and come later. What would you have done, huh? Play darts?” He squinted at her.
“There’s nothing in here. It’s just a place we know people don’t like to come around. We like to drink. And so you beat the shit out of us and, so what? Not like it was self defence. You could've left anytime, with how fast you were.”
Still, Batgirl said nothing. But she was listening.
“So why...did we fight? Was it...payback for all the people we killed and hurt? Pain for pain? Eye for an eye? In that case...why not just kill us?” He spat more blood onto the ground. “‘Course, that wouldn’t make a difference either. Someone would just take our place. That’s how it always goes.” He added. Criminals kill more criminals than anyone else, yet there’s always more criminals to take their place. Fresh bodies for the conveyor belt.
“...this whole thing was just fucking pointless.” Bruno concludes a rueful smile on his bloodied lips. “I guess you saved that coward Jacob, for now, huh? We were only killing him for payback, anyway. Not like he could’ve squealed twice. Took advantage of the chaos, rght? With all the flooding, people like him are vulnerable." He explained.
“What are you, anyway? Japanese? Mutant?” Bruno squinted at her in the darkness. She pulled back her hood, revealing her masked face. “You’re not like any Batgirl I’ve seen before.”
Batgirl shrugged. Bruno said nothing, and neither did she. As if to explain herself, she pinched her lips and brought her finger across them like she was closing a zipper. Before Bruno could say anything more, she left him and began to explore Bruno’s Bar. The sound of the doors to the back rooms being opened and shut broke the quiet.
Faster than he expected, she returned with a framed photograph. A photo of Bruno smiling with his wife Helena, obviously pregnant. She showed it to him.
“Yeah...you...y-you don’t get it. I’m doing this for him.” Bruno said emphatically.
Batgirl tilted her head, giving him a look that was so baffled, so utterly uncomprehending, that he recoiled in surprise. It was like he had just spoken the most profoundly inane sentence she had ever heard.
‘All of this violence you admitted was pointless. For that baby? How?’ Bruno heard his own voice reflected back on him from Batgirl. In that moment she saw his paradoxical thinking laid bare, his soul all twisted with self-inflicted evil and violence, lashing out at the world for reasons it didn’t understand.
Rage flared up in Bruno’s heart. “Just get the fuck out of here!” Bruno shouted, strained. “Don’t bring my family into this, you fucker! Next time I see you, I’ll kill you!” Batgirl retracted.
“I’ll skin you alive and mount your head on my wall, you bitch!” He coughed. “Fuck off! Go away!”
Slowly, Batgirl receded, backing away from his insults and angered shouts. On the far side of the bar, a man clumsily clambered onto all fours. The masked girl pushed open the front door and vanished into the night.
That was how it started.
Thankfully, he later learned that she tracked down Jacob and escorted him safely out of Gotham, where he was never seen or heard from again. At least, not by his people.
“Bruno?” Helena’s sweet voice floated in from the kitchen, tinged with concern. He snapped away, realising he had drifted off.
“There’s someone outside.” She peaked through the blinds. “I think it’s…” Helena trailed off.
“Take junior here.” Bruno said, serious. Walking into the condition, he handed their child off to her. He, too, peaked through the blinds.
Percival, Jamie, Leonard, and Christopher. All four of them, his most loyal men, had found his humble abode. Narrowing his eyes, Bruno said to his wife, “Hide in the bathtub. I’ll take care of this.”
“Bruno…” Helena said. Bruno looked at her.
“Be careful. For our boy.”
Nodding, Bruno planted a kiss on her forehead and went to meet his ex-fellows outside. First, he opened the screen door, and then, the metal door on the outside. Grey clouds hung overhead, the sun breaking through and casting rays of light onto the Earth below.
“Colonel Bruno,” Percival said, a cigarette in his mouth. “Where have you been? The cause needs you, brother.”
“I’m retired.” Bruno replied simply. “Everyone else from the Bar has moved on.” Bruno could say that, now that he paid Batgirl to rescue Trent. Officially, his chapter of the ‘Aryan brotherhood’ was disbanded. “And you should, too.”
“Come on, now. Don’t be like that.” Percival, that sleazeball, moved his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other.
“You’re one of the all time greats. Don’t throw it away for...for some girl!”
Bruno narrowed his eyes. “I have a family now. And I’m retired.”
“...Think of it this way, Bruno.” Percival said, his crew straightening behind him. “The One Hundred could use you, Bruno. And with what you’ve done, you’ve set back the Day of the Rope by ten years or more. Your little vanishing act can’t go unanswered, can it? Please, Colonel. Come on home. To your true family.”
He could see it in their eyes. They had thought he’d gone soft. Underestimated him. Killing, vengeful intent. Bruno was setting a bad example for the troops, was he?
“You know...” Bruno said, watching them reach into their waistbands. They thought they were so smart, so subtle. “I’ve given up violence." His eyes darkened. "But I'm not that out of practice."
Bruno was upon Percival faster than they expected. His gun went off into the dirt. Hoisted by the shoulders, the stronger Bruno threw him into his fellows, knocking all four prone. Guns were scattered, but Leonard and Christopher maintained hold. They might be fast enough to draw on him! Bruno ran forward, rage filling his heart.
“Leave, my, HOOOOOOOOME!” Bruno’s shout turned into a beastial roar.
Burning red hot, a great gout of flame rose up from Bruno’s chest. From his mouth it erupted, heavy and burning like magma. Descending upon all four members, they shrieked in agony as they were incinerated, no, melted.
Skidding to a halt, Bruno fell onto his back and pushed himself away from the on-the-spot funeral pyre. The scent of roasted flesh filled his nose. Eyes like saucers, sweat on his forehead, Bruno just watched as his ex-comrades turned to ash in front of his very eyes.
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