BAE Chapter 7

Barbara walks back to the girl on the ground and puts a stop to her struggle by putting her boot on her arm. The leader cares about this little brunette. She cares about everyone in her gang. That’s a strength and a weakness.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Barbara says, looking over her shoulder at the Leader. “Making your friend here an accessory not just to forcible ****, but **** too?” Barbara kneels and pulls off the brunette’s mask as the Leader seethes. The girl is pretty. And scared. “Blackgate’s not kind to cute girls like this. Maybe you can share a cell with her. Either way, you’re doing time. The only question is: for a long time? Or a very long time?”

The Leader’s angry, but she hasn’t lost her composure. The train slows to another stop. The doors hiss open, revealing a nearly-empty platform.

“We will take the third option,” the Leader says, slipping the knife into Ricky’s neck. She pushes him away. Ricky falls to his knees, **** and grabbing for the knife.

“No!” Barbara cries out, but it’s too late: he’s done exactly the wrong thing and pulled it out. Blood spurts. Barbara tackles him to the ground and presses a gloved hand to the wound, fumbling with her belt for a self-sealing dressing. She slaps that into place and drags him up to clear his windpipe.

The doors are already closing. The Leader and Bait Girl are both gone.

Barbara stabilizes Ricky and has an ambulance waiting at the next stop by the time the train arrives. The ambulance takes off with lights but no siren; Ricky’s in no danger. As it drives away into the night, the Car arrives and the cockpit opens. Barbara leaps in and closes it, shutting off the autopilot and taking the wheel.

“Ms. Gordon, do consider looking up,” Alfred says through the communicator.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” she replies grumpily. She’s not happy with the outcome in the subway. And she’s already seen the bat signal. She expected it.

Three months without the Batman has left Barbara’s father feeling very lonely and overwhelmed. Barbara has made a point to be seen around town and intervened in several incidents tonight. Gotham knows there’s a bat back on the streets. People can joke about Barbara’s legitimacy all they want; everyone knows the Car. She wouldn’t be driving it if she wasn’t the real thing.

She goes directly to Police HQ.

Commissioner Jim Gordon, aka Dad, is on the roof. The cold wind blows his beige trench coat around and his hands are deep in his pockets. His white hair and mustache need a trim. His glasses need to be cleaned.

She’s only met him face to face once in costume, and even then with her hair in plain view and making no effort to hide her voice or mannerisms… he didn’t recognize her. All the same, she’s cautious.

“Commissioner,” she says.

Dad turns around in surprise. All he can see is a figure in shadow. He squints at her and adjusts his glasses.

“It’s you,” he says.

Barbara has no reply to that.

“Is he okay?” Dad presses.

“I don’t know,” Barbara replies. She’s making her voice a little lower to go the extra mile, but she’s a different person in costume. Grumpier. And Dad doesn’t suspect. He can only see her as a sassy, bookish girl who used to be good at gymnastics and never really gave him much trouble. “You’re dealing with me for now.”

“I’ll take all the help I can get. I have a crime boss dead in the hills. They’re saying the bat did it.”

“I was there, but I didn’t kill her. I’ll look into it. I just hit a gang on the train. Angry women targeting rapists,” Barbara says.

Dad nods. “I’ve got two victims who’ve come forward already. There are probably more, but they aren’t speaking up for obvious reasons. I’ll say this for them: they’re going after the right people. I just don’t care for the way they do it. How many did you collar?”

“None. But I can give you at least one. I put a tracker on her and I’ll get you the location once she’s home. You should stake it out before you take her. See if you can catch her with anyone else from the gang there. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Leader doesn’t live there too. They seemed close,” Barbara says, taking a step back as Dad takes a step forward. He wants a better look, but he sees her reaction and takes the hint. “As for the Leader, have Bullock look at medical students. Five foot ten. Supermodel figure. Blonde hair, European accent. That should narrow it down.”

“These women are all victims. They wouldn’t be doing this otherwise,” Dad says with a sigh. “We can cross whatever you find with reported crimes in the past three years. Shouldn’t be too hard to get them off the streets. Too bad I can’t just hire them. Or you, for that matter,” he adds before realizing that he’s talking to a deserted rooftop. He sighs, peering into the empty shadows. “So you do that too, huh?”