BAE Chapter 23

Barbara doesn’t hesitate. She runs for the skylight, firing her grapple to shatter the glass. She dives through, swinging on her line.

The handful of smoke bombs that she threw explode, flooding the building with gray fog. She lands in the middle of the chaos, flinging bolos to trip up one hood and kicking the Thompson gun away from the nearest attacker. She sees a glimpse of a black mask and uniform with the distinctive rainbow flag patch of Elite Pride.

She ducks and rolls, snatching a pistol from a man and sending him flying with a roundhouse kick. A hand grenade lands at her feet. She snatches it up and uses her grapnel to fire it at the ceiling, where it blows out another skylight, showering everyone with cutting glass. Dropped guns and other objects skid around on the floor in the melee, but Barbara pays no attention to them, focusing on the combatants. The hoods are going for their cars, trying to escape despite the fact that they vastly outnumber the attackers.

Barbara turns her attention to them, leaping to the top of a van and cartwheeling over it to take them head-on. Elite Pride reacts instantly as she lands in the middle of them, much too close for them to use their long guns. One grabs her while another pulls a knife. Barbara launches herself backward, slamming one into the side of their armored van and kicking another with both feet. She rolls out of the way as a knife slams to the ground where she was a second ago, then ducks a swipe and sweeps the legs from under the one with the knife. From their movements and size, Barbara can tell that these Elite Pride members are women. They aren’t big, but they’re strong. She flattens one with a punch only to be grabbed again from behind. The one who has her swings her bodily, presenting Barbara as a target to her teammate, who racks a pump shotgun and fires it point-blank into Barbara’s chest.

The blast knocks both women off their feet. The Elite Pride member shoves Barbara’s limp form off and scrambles upright, grabbing her pistol and shoving it into a shoulder holster. They’re shouting to each other. Tires are squealing.

Barbara’s ears ring and her chest feels as though it’s been crushed.

The smoke is clearing.

Wheezing, Barbara rolls over, trying vainly to get to her hands and knees. Gritting her teeth, she slaps her fist against her chest. The flattened shotgun pellets rattle to the floor. A black boot appears in front of her and she grabs it, but the Elite Pride woman just kicks her over and climbs into the van.

Doors shut and the engine revs.

Barbara rolls over pitifully as the van pulls away. She’s not alone. Several hoods are down, moaning and bleeding, not so different from her. Barbara isn’t bleeding… at least not on the outside. The armored fabric that Alfred uses for costumes will stop gunfire that is both soft and slow, but only in protected spots, which don’t include sides and joints. The buckshot didn’t penetrate, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Barbara feels as though she’s been kicked by a horse. Groaning in frustration, she tries a second time to rise but tumbles onto her side with tears in her eyes.

Footsteps patter.

A white shape appears, bending over her. Barbara sees herself reflected in the visor of the motorcycle helmet that hides the face of the interloper: a woman who wears a white bulletproof vest with a red cross scrawled on it. Barbara has read about her in the Bat Computer, but her head is swimming. She can’t do anything but moan.

Red Cross checks her over, probing with white-gloved hands. Barbara hisses in pain.

They both look up at the sound of approaching sirens.

Red Cross appears to hesitate, then opens a pouch strapped to her thigh and takes out a needle. She rolls Barbara over, moves her cape, and slams the needle into her backside, where the costume isn’t reinforced, injecting her with something.