[center][h1][color=fff201][b] B A T G I R L[/b][/color][/h1][/center]
[hr]

	For once, the sun was shining in Gotham City. Languid clouds floated in the blue sky, occasionally casting large circles of shade as they passed between the sun and the earth. Broken streets were filled in and made new again, be it concrete or weeds that filled the cracks. Old buildings were smooshed against the buildings that counted as 'new' only by relativity. Gargoyles loomed over many rooftop corners, but no literal creatures of demon lore. This area was much too practical and down to earth to have paid for some fancy shmancy statue mounted one vertex, let alone four. The new buildings, squat, flat, grey, constructed in the brutalist era of the 70's. Most likely crushing the corpses of whatever crumbling gothic hut came before them. All of them were bedazzled with unblinking, unlit neon signs. Glowing eyes, waiting for night time to open. Cars were parked, many of them the retro kind. Not outdated, not obsolete, just...classic. Here, in the sprawling metropolis of Gotham, the cluster of steel, stone, and glass towers that made up the endless labryninth of Downtown seemed a million miles away.

	 A burly man, a thin layer of blonde hair growing on his head, calloused hands in the pockets of a leather jacket, lumbered his way down the street. Happy, but, a bit sheepish, perhaps. For at his side, trailing a few steps, was a shorter but perhaps significantly more intimidating female figure. Dressed in all black armor and fabric with dim gold highlights. A hood over her head, and a black mask around her eyes. Strands of hair hung from the hood, and the small smile she wore on her face was obvious. On her back was the golden symbol of the bat. Some people blinked, looking at her, and she smiled and waved. But no one asked for an autograph. There was an unapproachable aura about her.

	The burly man, Bruno, came to a stop infront of a tattoo shop. "This is it, Bats."

	Batgirl nodded. Bruno shook some nervous energy out of his hands and then smiled at her. "I just- you didn't have to-"
	
	Closing her eyes, the girl dismissed his concerns with a wave of her gauntleted hand. 

	"All right. Well, this is it. In I go." Wood clacked against ringing bronze as he pushed the door into the tattoo parlor. Nobody was inside, save for the tattoo artist herself. A redhead with the name 'Leonie' on her nametag. Defying the usual image a tattoo artist, she didn't have very many tattoos on her at all. At least from what Batgirl could see.

	"Hiya, Bruno. Ready to finish the job?"

	"Yes, ma'am." Bruno gave a little salute. Slipping off his leather jacket, he set it on a coat rack. Next, off came his tank top. Splayed across his muscular chest was a black and white outline of a serpentine demon, engulfed in wrathful flames. Beneath that, buried among the fiery imagery, were two stagnant black swastikas. 

	Exhaling, the large man sat back in the chair. "Let's finish this." 

	Leoni nodded, fired up her righteous needle, and got to work. Baleful oranges and reds consumed his skin, and in a matter of hours, conqeur the past once and for all. As the tip pushed in and Bruno stared up at the ceiling, Batgirl saw a little drop of blood get forced out. A little drop of crimson.

	(Take the needle.)

	Stop.
	 
	(Jam into his throat. Swipe away carotid. Too fast. Slam her head into granite table corner.)

	Stop it. Bruno's happy. He's got his second chance. A new life, for his son. She's focused. Look how much she cares. Look at the art she's created. This is good.

	(Alternatively. Snap her neck. Burst his liver with elbow. It's unhealthy. Too much alcohol.)

	Please let me have this.

	(Footsteps outside. Audible to no one else. Someone behind you in four seconds. Light footsteps. Female. Knife. Into. Heart.)

	Bell rang. Another customer, right on queue.

	(Behind. You. Hear that? Purse. Smell that? Pleather. Plastic. Pepper spray inside. Weapon, dangerous.)

	I have to go.

	Cassandra turned and began to make her way out.
	
	"Uh, hey, wait, Batgirl." Bruno raised his hand, arm on the rest. "Before you go?" Batgirl paused. The female customer blinked in surprise at seeing such a figure. Smiling nervously she took a seat.

	"Check inside my right coat pocket." Batgirl didn't turn around. But she did edge her way over to the leather article on the coat rack and reach inside. A slip of paper. She took it out: an envelope. 

	"You don't have too. But, if you want...he's a good kid, really. Thank you, Bats." The hooded figure nodded and pulled the door open. Somehow, the bell didn't ring. 

	[hr]

	Rooftops. Blue skies above were impervious and invincible to people like her. Impassive and unjudgemental. Thirty feet up, with only the air condition units to keep her company. Crouching low so the wind didn't take it, Batgirl unfolded the envelope. Though she detected the cellulose before she saw it, on the inside was a picture. A scrawny black-haired kid, trying his best to not act scared of the pistol in his hands. Written across the white border of the photo was...something.

	Accompanying this was a small, handwritten note from Bruno. Finally, there was a dollar bill. A twenty, from the recognizable stern look of the old guy printed on it. A gift. Batgirl pouted happily, endeared. If only he knew where she got her funding. She placed it back in the envelope and set it on the ground. Retrieving a reinforced, black smartphone from her utility belt, she aimed it at the picture and the note. With a tap of her thumb the screen came to life. There was a multitude of buttons for her to press, but she went for the icon of an analog camera. Once in photo mode, she pressed the big red button. There was an authentic replication of a photographic snap. A good noise, pleasing to her keen ears.

	Now the photograph and the note were frozen on the screen. All that was left was to once again put to use something the techies in the Batcave had helped whip up for her. Or maybe just installed the app on her phone from online? All that stuff was over her head. In the top right corner of the still image was a little speech bubble. Upon being tapped, a little grid went over the photo and a green bar started from empty and filled all the way up. Batgirl held the phone right next to her ear. Blinking in surprise, she quickly moved it away as the stilted sounding man began to read aloud:

	"Batgirl. You gave me a second chance. Please give him one, too." Followed by two separate addresses. "You'll find him here. Take him to meet my parole officer, Becky. You know her, right? Thanks. It's not much, but please buy yourself a pizza on me. Joey's is good." 

	The word on the photo was a name: "Trent."

	Navigating Gotham wasn't going to be an issue, now that she had heard the address. Doubt could be dissuaded by matching the symbols of the address to the symbols on the green signs around down. Besides, one of the first things she'd ever learned was the layout of the massive city. Vital importance was placed on knowing how to get around town without relying on a GPS. The city had to be her playground.

	So Batgirl set off. It didn't take her long to get where she wanted to be. An abandoned warehouse, used for storing and distributing contraband. One knot in a long line of illicit activity. Criminal infrastructure almost matched the complexity and effeciency of legal infrastructure. But they could be pushed back, and out, one cut string at a time. Several exits and entrances. Spotting a stealthy way in would be easy. But today she wasn't after the bad guys. Her only goal here was one single person.

	Trent. Him and a thug twice as wide as him exited the building after about an hour of waiting. Baggy clothes hid the weapons they no doubt had. Together they were patrolling the outside, acting like any normal citizen. When they passed into an alleyway and Batgirl knew no one would come out to check on them for a bit, she descended.

	Trent kept walking for a few feet, having not noticed Batgirl standing ontop of his unconscious fellow gang member. Batgirl cleared her throat. Trent jumped, turned around, surveyed the situation, and reached inside his jacket pocket.

	(Knife into eye. Don't let him draw.)

	He won't shoot me.

	(He's so slow. He's soooo slow. Rush forward, break elbow.)

	He's not a killer.

	(Not yet. But you are. You can stop a killer from coming into existence right now.)

	I don't think that's how that works.

	Trent, finally, pulled the gun and aimed it at Batgirl. Standing there quietly, the vigilante made no movements. Fear coursed through his body, threatening to wrestle the gun from his hands before Batgirl even got the chance. Iron sights only occasionally passed over her center of mass as they trembled from spot to spot.

	"Wh-wha-what? What are you...if I..." Trent managed, as she waited. Clearly he had expected something to have happened by now.

	"If I...if I kill you. I'll be a l-legend. They'll respect me." Trent said. Batgirl gestured down to the unconscious guy.

	"Well, yeah, him too. I mean, he's way tougher than me but- I mean- why didn't you?" Trent focused up, pointing the gun directly at Batgirl's head. "...move! Dodge! Do something!" He pleaded. Give him an excuse to fire, he asks.

	"...damn it!" Shoulders sagging, his handgun drops to the floor. "What do you want with me? I- I can't tell you anything." 

	(As if he would have a choice.)

	Shh.

	Batgirl reached into her utility belt, took a step forward, and produced an envelope. She wasn't worried about him getting jumpy because the movements seemed to happen while he was blinking. Trent flinched, and then carefully accepted the letter. Opening it up, he read it. 

	"...Bruno paid you a pizza to come get me out of here?" Trent said, deadpan. Batgirl nodded. "His parole officer?" Another nod.

	"So now what? I just leave? You really think it'll be that easy?"

	Batgirl shrugged, palms up. Isn't it?

	Trent blinked. "Shit, you're right. I don't wanna kill anyone." I know. Glancing up, he saw her hand was extended again. Into her palm he placed her handgun, and she dismantled it whole. Walking past him, she took his hand in hers and darted down the alleyway away from the warehouse and into the street.

	(On. Your. Right.)

	Emerging from a metal green door, a pipe wielding bad guy took a look to his left and then fell over. Don't worry, Trent missed it too. "What the..?" He said, stepping over the sleeping six foot thug that had routinely bullied him. 

	They were away. Batgirl lead Trent down the street and to a manhole. "Oh no, I am not going down there-" The manhole was open, he was in her arms, and she jumped down into the sewers. "Wah!" He was set down, and when he turned around to give Batgirl his best offended glare, she was already gone to close the manhole cover behind them. Underneath the streets was a tunnel, ten feet in diameter, some green water pooling at the bottom.   Grimacing, Trent kept to the dryer sides. 

	"Is this really necessary?!" Trent asked. Batgirl nodded. Best as few people as possible saw him with her. Just in case.

	They travelled through the tunnel for a long while. Trent started huffing and puffing. "I thought you said this would be easy!"

	Batgirl glanced over her shoulder at him as he jogged behind her.

	"...I thought your shrug implied this would be easy." Trent clarified. Batgirl tilted her head to the side.

	"Easy for you, maybe!"

	Despite all nearby complainers, they eventually used a grapple hook to navigate out of another manhole cover. A block or two later and they were at an inconspicuous brown building. Batgirl knocked on the door, turned around, and then karete chopped Trent on the shoulder.

	"Ow! Hey!" Trent flinched back. Jumping up on the roof, she vanished over the edge.

	Moments later, a plainclothes police officer opened the door. Squinting at Trent, she asked. "Name?"

	"Err...Trent Kilroy? Bruno sent me. I'm looking for someone named Becky? Officer Becky?" He glanced around. 

	Becky's face softened. "Bruno, huh? What happened?"

	"Well. I was," Trent finished piecing things together. "At this suspicious warehouse. And then a fight happened. And then some costumed weirdo attacked me."

	"Guess we'll have to check out this warehouse, then." Becky replied.

	"Yeah. Guess so." 

	"It's never too late to just take a step back and reevaluate things." Becky said. "Come on inside. You've been through a harrowing experience- we'll take care of you." She stepped aside, and Trent stepped over the threshold. 

	[hr]

	As the GCPD surveyed the scene of the assault from the outside, they soon realised that this was indeed a place of regular criminal activity. Entering the building revealed a dozen men, bound together in the middle of the warehouse with a carbon fiber rope. 

	"We're gonna need a van." An officer sighed, adjusting his cap. Stepping outside to get some air, a shadow caught his eye. Boots dangling beneath her, Batgirl sat on the edge of an opposite rooftop. Though he couldn't make out her face, he knew they were making eye contact with each other. A cute little wave, and the hooded figure back rolled out of view.

	"Why the hell are we working with criminals?" The officer asked his subordinate in the building behind him chuckling.

	The other officer was gathering evidence in a bag. Without looking, he replied. "Sarge, if we didn't work with criminals, we wouldn't get to work with anyone."