Batgirl: Year One by Kennedy Harkins (books to read to get smarter txt) đź“•
I know. I know. All the heroes say that, right? Denying how awesome you are is what makes you a superhero. Batman does it, Superman does it. Everyone who’s really a hero, says they’re not a hero.
But, for this one instance, forget all that, and believe me.
I’m not a hero.
But, for the last year, I’ve been walking a mile in one’s shoes. Not just any hero. The greatest female superhero of all time, in my humble opinion. I guess that’s why I’m writing this. Not because Nightwing suggested it- apparently every hero writes their own Year One story, even Batman- but because when this story does come to light (hopefully after I’m long gone), people will understand just how impossible it is to fill her shoes.
I don’t think anyone should try.
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- Author: Kennedy Harkins
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No need to elaborate on who he is.
Without waiting for me to respond, he rides off into the night. No doubt to perform some heroic deed of selflessness.
What an ass.
Chapter Three:I grab the backpack from behind a crate, where I’d stuffed it before beginning the fight with the second man.
Should I change back into my normal clothes? I don’t want to, because one I put back on my jeans and t-shirt, I’m just Nell Burnett, again. I know I said only one night, but how can I give this up? The amazing adrenaline rush. The feeling of invincibility, of being in control. That I’m doing the right thing.
The streets surrounding the docks are deserted, even from drug dealers, who were probably scared away by the Bat-Signal. I’m trying hard not to drag my feet and hang my head in shame. My first night out, and I had to be saved by a real hero.
I wanted to do something. I wanted to drop down to the ground and kick his legs out. As he lost balance, I would shoot up, and knock the gun from his hand. I know that move. I’ve practiced it a thousand times with Kairi. Why couldn’t I do it? I just stood there!
Like a victim.
I walk by Manufacturing Jewelers & Designers, just a couple blocks from Wayne Station. I hear glass breaking and a loud alarm sounding. I turn back. A couple of goons with bats are robbing the jewelry store. I glance down the bat symbol on my chest, and then up at the matching one in the sky.
Well, if the rest of the family’s busy...
I run through the unlocked door. They’re both wearing black ski masks, but while one is large like the men at the docks, the other is thin. He looks like he’s my age.
I’ll take out the runt first, since he’s closest to me. He spins around at that moment, his eyes widen behind the mask. I punch him where I think his nose is, using just enough force to break it, but not permanently hurt him. He let out a surprised gasp of pain, drops his bat, and, holding his nose, stumbled backwards. I kick the side of his knee, sending him crashing to the ground.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” I said. Ok, so he’s probably older than me, but I don’t want my enemies knowing my age. One, it’ll get them one step closer to finding out my real identity. Two, who’s going to take a sixteen year old crime fight seriously? At least the Robins have had Batman by their side to take over in the intimidation department.
I slipped a pair of handcuffs out of my bag. Another relic from Halloweens past. They’re just sturdy plastic, but they’ll hold the boy until I can deal with his partner. I put them on his right wrist and attach the other cuff to the bottom of a heavy cabinet.
“You picked the wrong robbing to mess with, Bat.” Without turning towards the voice, I scramble out of the way. A sharp blow lands on my shoulder, and vibrates through my body. Still better than a second hit to the head.
Flipping myself over a glass case filled with precocious diamonds, I said. “Maybe you picked the wrong Bat to mess with.”
I picked up a large shard of glass from the floor. The large man jumps up and over the counter with the ease of someone with some kind of training, but not martial arts. He’s not fluid enough in his movements, it’s very choppy and aggressive. Football player turned street fighter?
As soon as his body is on my side of the counter, I slash him with the glass, creating a deep cut on his bicep. I would have gone for his leg, to make it harder to run away, if my eyesight weren’t still fuzzy from the blow to the head during the last fight. It’s supposed to distract him more than anything else.
His attention flickers for the barest moment. But, it’s all I need. I rush forward, driving my knee forcefully into his gut. He grunts, and I dance out of his range, just a second to slowly. His punch misses my jaw- thank god- but hits me squarely on my collarbone.
A sharp cry leaves my lips. My shoulder feels like it’s on fire, but I don’t think the bone’s broken.
Guess we’re about to find out.
The guy is wearing a smug smile, as he moves towards me. His arms raised and ready to do some more damage, like the kneeing he just took was nothing.
I’m gonna enjoy this.
Shoving off from the wall behind me, I drop kick the man directly in his sternum. My shoulder and collarbone scream at the sudden movement. Before he can recover, I lay into his stomach with a dozen quick jabs. He swings his bat at me, it’s a clumsy, disorganized move. I duck out of the way with relative ease. I step to his side, grabbing his elbow and wrenching it up. Before he can so much as gasp in pain, I put my hand on the back of his head, driving it down into the counter.
He slumps down to the floor, unconscious. I grab him by the hands and drag his lax form to his struggling partner. Spotting a coil of jewelry wire, I swiped it and tied dumb and dumber to each other.
I can’t help but feel little smug, even if this victory does nothing to change that fact that I mess up my first fight. Take that Nightwing! Bet the store owner will be happy I didn’t take your friendly advice.
I turn my attention to the skinny, conscious boy. “Next time you get the bright idea to rob a bank? Reevaluate. You’re just lucky I caught you instead of Batman.” A shiver ran down his body. The fear in his eyes- what I could see of them- made him look even younger. I hear sirens in the not so far distance. Time to go.
When I would have turned away, he speaks. “I-I needed the m-money.”
“So do a lot of good, honest, hardworking people, and they work for what they have. You may need the money bad. But, what good will it do you if you’re in prison or dead. Get a job.” I said, making my voice as hard as I can. He bobs his head vigorously. “That’s just some friendly advice, but if I catch you again, I won’t be so friendly. Got it?” I echo Nightwing’s earlier words to me. The boy nods again.
The sound of brakes squealing comes from outside. Looks like the police have arrived. Crap.
I exit the jewelry store and a pudgy cop and his muscular female partner are waiting for me. She looks incredulous, he seems more pissed off than awestricken. He bites into a powdered doughnut he’s holding, grumbling something about “bats multiplying like rabbits”.
“Detectives.” I nodded to them. I sprint away from them, vaulting myself onto a fire escape.
“Hey! Get back here!” The male cop yells after me. “Damn, bats. Think they own this town and don’t have to obey the law.”
“Bullocks, they do own this town.” His partner said. Swinging myself from bar to bar, I’m on the roof in seconds.
I really should head home, it’s almost dawn, and Mom could find me missing at any moment. So, two options. One, wait up here until the cops are gone, and then take the subway home. Or...
Smiling to myself, I back up to the edge of the roof. I run across the uneven tile, springing into the air and onto the next rooftop. And the next. Again. And Again.
_____
A few doors down from our apartment, there’s a small utility closet. The perfect place for a quick, incognito change. The smell of chemicals assault my nose as I pull on my clothes and stuff the Batgirl suit in the backpack.
Tiptoeing down the hall, I fish a spare key out of the pocket of my jeans. The click of the door unlocking sounds like an elephant stampede and I wince. It’s only four twenty-two, according to my watch. That’s early, even for Mom, who like to get up at the crack of dawn, so she can paint the sunrise.
I shut the door behind me. “Sweetie?” I froze at my mom’s words. Of course, this would be the morning she decided to get up an hour early.
Turning around slowing, I said. “Oh, hey, Mom. You’re up early.” My mind is racing, trying to find an answer to the question I know she’s about to ask me.
Her blonde hair, exactly like mine, is tied up in a messy bun with real chopsticks keeping it in place. Her glasses are slightly askew over her big, bright green eyes. She has a heart shaped face, with a button nose. People tell me I look just like her.
She frowns, creating a crease between her eyebrows. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was.” Oh, god, give me a good excuse. “B-but I woke up, so I went for a walk.”
Her brows furrow even more. “At four in the morning? We live in a pretty safe neighborhood, but really, Nell, this is still Gotham.”
I stop her before she can start on a rampage. “I didn’t go outside. I just walked around the apartment complex.” She looked a little less angry, so I continued. “I needed to clear my head after visiting Anna today.”
All worry and irritation left her face in an instant. “I understand, and I’m sorry I snapped at you.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead she turned on her heel and headed into her art room, shutting the door softly behind her.
I entered my room and flopped down on my bed. Part of me feels bad about using Anna to get out of hot water. Even if I know if she were here, she’d tell me to use her.
I smile weakly. Anna would have loved all of this. The only reason I got into gymnastics and martial arts was because I wanted to be more like her. A familiar ache fills my heart.
Anna would have made a great Batgirl.
Chapter Four:Mom roused me from bed what seemed like minutes after I’d fallen asleep.
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