|
|
Gotham City
Barbara Gordon hated shopping.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like clothing or looking great. She still maintained almost as good a body now as she ever had as Batgirl, save for her legs. Without the signals being continuously sent from the spine to the legs to control involuntary muscle contractions, it was nearly impossible to keep the legs in anything coming close to good shape. She worked them ceaselessly, however, and still had a lot of muscle tone and shape.
No, what she hated about shopping was the chair.
She hated that it was bulky. As smooth and streamlined as all of Bruce’s money could afford, the chair still had two large wheels behind two small ones, and her feet had to point somewhere. The chair had to be so wide and so long, and regardless of the lightweight ceramic frame and the amazingly equipped van to drive around in, the chair still was a handful in nearly every element of her life.
“Handicapped accessible my ass,” she growled as she cracked her right elbow and left foot on the door into the dressing room. The pile of clothing she had been trying on fell to the floor, causing her to bruise her ribs and liver and at least a half dozen other internal organs picking them up while bending over the armrest. Her wheel had rolled to a stop atop a blouse, which forced her to back her chair up to get it free, and unfortunately caused her to crack her funny bone against the damned doorframe again.
The saleslady would never understand why Commissioner Gordon’s daughter threw a huge wad of clothing at her as she went steamrolling out of the store.
Halfway through her double-decker banana split, Barbara was feeling a little better, but sort of queasy. She was seated at a distant table, away from the crowd of teenagers clustered in the food court, talking and laughing and, essentially, being the jackasses that only the under 18 age group could be and get away with it. Barbara tried not to resent every young girl that walked by, but behind her glasses and under her pony-tailed hair, she simmered.
I remember walking, she thought, then scolded herself for the self-pity wrapped up in that thought. Dammit Babs, snap out of it! Those kids have nothing to do with you, nor are they out to punish you by simply living. You’re just indulging in plain old depression. It should pass normally…in 15-20 years. Angered by her own scattered thoughts and her failure to accomplish anything at the mall, she threw her spoon angrily into the bowl before her, which in turn splashed her from head to chest with chocolate fudge and vanilla ice cream.
“Son of a b---” she stared to say, twisting to see if she could find a napkin dispenser before she died of embarrassment. The nearest one was off to her right, just past at least six tables of giggling, horrible teenagers, some of whom had already seen her ‘accident’ and were pointing. Dear Lord, just take me now, k?
“Now, I really don’t think that’s called for,” a voice behind her said. Not realizing she had spoken aloud, Barbara spun around, looking up into the face of a young man, maybe 30, with shoulder-length black hair, firm body and eyes so blue she felt her breath taken away. She had never seen any eyes, not even on Dick, that were as captivating. The man smiled, and she thought he had a fantastic smile. “I have a feeling he’s got a few more things on his plate at the moment.”
“Ah, um, who?” she asked as the man held out a handful of clean white napkins. Taking them gladly, Barbara quickly wiped down her face and neck, before taking her glasses off to clean them. Before she could clean them, however, he had taken them from her and was pouring water on them from the bottle he’d been drinking and wiping them down even as he took the seat across from her.
He handed them back, then smiled again. “Why, God. You were just pleading with him to end your supposed misery, weren’t you?”
“Well, not seriously,” she said, putting her glasses back on.
“Now, what, pray tell, is so awful, Miss Gordon?”
Alarm bells ringing in her head, Barbara cautiously leaned forward. “Nothing, really,” she answered after a moment. “Care to tell me exactly how you know who I am?”
“Not really,” the man said. “I know a great many things I can’t tell you about. Let’s just say that is one of them. My name is Roland, Oracle, and I’m here to save your boyfriend’s life.”
Her immediate reaction was to ask about Dick, but something tugged at her memory. “Roland? That’s…an odd name. Almost familiar, I’d say. Except, you’re appearance…”
“What of my appearance, pray tell?”
“You’re not a ‘wizened old gizzard full of pompous self-righteousness.’ Or, ‘an unknown metahuman with a convoluted agenda that ended in multiple fatalities.’ Or, lastly, ‘a troubled soul, possibly schizophrenic, with delusions of grandeur, or perhaps something I simply cannot rationally describe.’”
While he gave no outward expression at her statement, Barbara picked up the distinct impression that Roland was not at all happy about what he was hearing, but damned if he didn’t seem to be completely unsurprised. “Ah, you are very quick, and also very widely read. May I ask how you came to be in possession of police documents from Lisa Hunter, Anthony Drake and Emma Fromme?”
“Something you don’t readily know, Roland? Or should I call you the Ageless Stranger?”
“Whatever you prefer. Far be it from me to force myself upon a lady,” Roland said, smiling. “But I must compliment you again, very quick.”
“Not really,” Babs said, snorting. “You don’t hear the name Roland often nowadays. You also don’t have a lot of people who come up to me and call me Oracle, or have such amazing blue eyes. Really, if one can change his skin and hair so extensively as you seem to have done, why not assume another name or eye color?”
“Some questions have no answer,” Roland said. “I have had thousands of names, Barbara, but Roland has always been my favorite, perhaps because it is so unpopular.”
“Yeah, that would make sense,” Barbara said, smiling wickedly. “You’re not exactly a popular person. I hear there are two police departments in New York City looking for you for questioning in the murders of a gang of robbers and a prostitute. Also, Supergirl filed a brief message with the JLA about your actions in Las Vegas, but she sees you as something of a hero, after a sort. How’s that work? Beat the crap out of someone and they still like you?”
“It’s really not so surprising, is it, Batgirl? Isn’t one of HIS mandates ‘beat down the self-respect, self-worth, and any and all free will before allowing them to serve HIS selfish purposes.” There was steel in Roland’s voice, and Barbara was overcome with the realization that, at some point in the past, Batman had run across the Ageless Stranger. Then why hasn’t Bruce said anything about the reports I KNOW he’s looked over?
“Linda is…at a pivotal point in her life,” Roland continued, unconcerned by the pale, slightly angry look on Barbara’s face as she thought about her past with Batman. “I was trying, in my own way, to help her out. She has many trying times ahead of her, some of which will occur here in Gotham…soon.”
“Ok, listen, whatever,” Barbara said, rolling closer to the table and lowering her voice. “Enough verbal sparring. What sort of danger is Dick in and how can you, through me, help him?”
“Not here,” Roland said, standing and coming around the table. “Let’s take a stroll.”
“Sure, no one will hear us talking then,” Babs said sarcastically. Nevertheless, she let him take the handles on her chair and roll out into the main corridor.
“No one will even notice our lips moving,” Roland said confidently. “Trust me.”
“Not in your lifetime,” Barbara shot back.
“A long time indeed.” They were silent for a moment, then Roland said something that cut her to the heart. “You were partly right, before,” he said. “When you looked at the younger girls and wondered about him. He does notice them, your friend Dinah for instance, or Jesse Quick. It is easy to see, it’s human nature really. What is important, especially for a man like him, is what he loves.”
“What. Are. You. Getting. At?” Barbara said through clenched teeth as she fought her blood pressure.
“Simply trying to point out that you have a dedicated man, that’s all,” Roland said, but she didn’t know him well enough, or maybe she knew OF him too much, to completely believe him. Slumping miserably in her seat, she let out a long sigh.
“Are you finally going to tell me why you came to see me, or is this big threat for Dick having to listen to you dissect his life?”
“Heh,” Roland said, shaking his head. “No. The threat to Dick is that you’re going to die because you love him too much to live.”
“What?!” Barbara said, stunned and shocked. “What in the name of God does THAT mean?”
“Your passing will have strong ramifications upon him, much like when his family was taken from him in the past. I am uncertain if he will survive.”
“STOP!” Barbara roared, tearing her chair from his hands and spinning around on a dime. For all the swearing she’d done earlier about her inability to do anything with it, she handled it with skill and speed now. “Explain yourself and make it good,” she said in a low voice. “Or I will hurt you.”
“You could not, but that is irrelevant,” Roland said. Something in his demeanor had changed and it frightened Barbara. “Listen to me and hear me well,” Roland whispered as he leaned forward. “You will imminently be confronted with a situation where you have a choice. That choice will seem difficult but you will come to realize it is very simple: there will be a good choice for everyone other than Dick, and a good choice for no one but Dick. Essentially, it will be a lose-lose situation for you and you alone. The decision will be yours to make, no one else.”
“Why me? What difference does it make?” Barbara asked, shaken to her core.
“It makes ALL the difference,” Roland said, then straightened. Barbara didn’t raise her eyes from her hands at first, making sure they didn’t shake. When she did raise her head, Roland, the Ageless Stranger, was gone.
Fifty yards into the main entry of the mall, the branch of the Gotham First National Bank was booming. When the bank had been installed 30 years ago, there were 7 teller lines, and they worked from 8am until 6pm, Monday through Friday. Today, however, there were two teller lines working 10:30am until 3:30pm, Monday through Friday. The other five teller stations had been replaced by ATM machines.
Being Friday, and the 15th of the month, and 2:30, the bank was slammed with people making deposits and withdrawals to spend money for the weekend. It was into this mob of people that the 5 men walked, rubbing their wrists oddly. The leader, a tall man with wild blonde hair, came to the window of teller station #2 and smiled at the elderly woman behind the half-glass partition.
“May I help you, sir?” asked the lady, whose name was Elaine Berkley, a 67 year old grandmother of 3 whose Social Security alone didn’t cover living in the city. She liked her work, just not the crowds. Still, she only had an hour to go, then she had the weekend to spend watching her beautiful babies.
“Of course,” the man said, pulling the sleeves of his jacket up. Strapped onto his wrists were two bracelets that were humming and obviously powered. He pointed them at her head and said. “Give me all the money. Now. Don’t say a word.”
“But…” Elaine started, but never finished. With a raise in pitch and a short scream cut off quickly, Elaine died as her head came into contact with 100,000 volts of electricity and, being grounded by her chair, exploded.
Barbara was smashed into the elevator facing away from the door, looking out the window toward the main entrance of the mall. She was still shaking a little from Roland’s words, but found her mind suddenly focused on a flash of light in the GFN Bank entrance. As she focused, she could see people running out, but even as the elevator passed level 2 she could see three scared people struck from behind by amazingly bright blasts of concentrated electricity. They were instantly cooked and then exploded onto the tiled floors.
The elevator hit the ground floor and everyone on it piled out of the door, except for Barbara. She heard the door close behind her, but it didn’t move up. She just sat there, facing the carnage through the pane of glass, her mind racing. As she watched, two more people were struck randomly, but her spirits soared a little as the mall cops rounded a far corner.
One look at the bodies, however, and they turned and ran.
“Damn,” Barbara said, throwing her arm back to hit the number 2 button on the elevator, riding back to the second level. “What should I do?”
When she got to the second level, she rolled quickly out of the elevator and moved down the railing until she could see through the glass that there were 5 men inside, all wearing long sleeved flannel shirts with bracelets on that were shooting the powerful beams of electricity. They kept rubbing their wrists when they weren’t firing, which caught Barbara’s eye.
Skin irritation from the power buildup, she thought. From the static electricity or just the heat from the power cells? Ah, doesn’t matter. She had left her cell phone in her van, wanting a few hours of peaceful shopping, away from her computers. Now she sat, unarmed and without a way of quickly contacting any of her friends as the five men moved into the main hallway, firing randomly at the crowd.
Suddenly, just as the men were leaving the security of the bank, a voice shouted out. “FREEZE!” From the direction the mall cops had run before, a group of eight mall cops, including the first two, appeared, holding their weapons. “DROP THE MONEY AND GET ON THE GROUND WITH YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEADS!”
“NO!” Barbara said, her eyes wide in horror as the five men turned, raised their arms, and fired. Four of the rent-a-cops died instantly, catching the full brunt of 10 discharges. Sparks and flames erupted, showering the other four cops even as they opened fire.
The return fire struck the unshielded men hard. Two of the crooks took bullets in the head, and a third caught a bad one just above his heart. As the three of them fell, however, they fired back, scattering the still-alive guards. The two surviving crooks, taking advantage of the pause, grabbed the bags their fellows dropped, then racing off around the corner.
Her heart pumping a mile a minute, Barbara’s thoughts were frantic. She watched as the remaining guards tried to move forward, but the dying crook with the chest wound kept firing, holding them back. Following the running crooks, Babs made the mental connection quick, and began rolling as fast as her arms could push her chair. In the direction they were running, there was only one way out of the mall. A staircase would bring them to the second floor and then back down the hall towards her was a garage entrance.
They must have a car in there, she thought, rolling for the door to the garage as quickly as she could. She made it into the garage, and thankfully there were no stairs to hinder her as she rolled into the garage. The entrance from the mall was blocked by an automatic door, leaving her on a landing that went either up or down. Using what little speed she could get from the battery on her chair, she managed to get herself halfway up the ramp within a few seconds, which she figured was enough. She cut the power and held her brake, pointing down the ramp toward the doorway. Off the mirrored back glass of a pimped-out Cadillac, she could see the entrance to the mall.
All she had to do now was wait.
What the hell are you doing?! Screaming at herself, Barbara struggled with her instinctive decision to ambush the attackers. She had reacted like she was still Batgirl, still able to leap and kick and punch with the best of them. Now, however, poised to do something dangerous and stupid, she found these fleeting moments of nervousness left her time to consider her actions.
So they’ll get away with the money, big deal. Bruce or Steph or Cassandra or Tim or someone will catch them. The rational side of her mind screamed at her, and she had to admit it made sense. And yet…
She had just recently sat in a graveyard while BHPD Officer Tim Fencik was buried, never to walk or laugh or play games with his friend Dick Grayson again. In the surprised faces of those four mall cops, in that one split second before they realized they were dead, she saw Tim being torn apart by Killer Croc. When she saw those people being struck from behind while running for their lives, she felt her heart grow cold. They had just wanted to make a quick stop to deposit checks or get money to buy something at the mall. None went into the bank to die, but some did.
“You will imminently be confronted with a situation where you have a choice. That choice will seem difficult but you will come to realize it is very simple: there will be a good choice for everyone other than Dick, and a good choice for no one but Dick. Essentially, it will be a lose-lose situation for you and you alone. The decision will be yours to make, no one else.”
“I understand,” she said in a low voice, just as she caught sight of the two robbers coming into the garage. She let go of the brake on her chair, letting gravity and a few strong pushes propel her down the ramp. If I don’t stop these people, Dick will not have to deal with my death. But those cops, and those people, will not be avenged. I will have had the chance to act, but failed to have taken it. If I do die here today, as Roland predicted, then Dick may handle it badly, but I will have been true to what we do, who we are as heroes. I can make a difference, even from this chair.
As she slammed into the lead attacker, Barbara was pushing up and forward with her arms. As she said a silent ‘I Love You’ to Dick, Barbara body tackled the second attacker, dragging him to the pavement with her dead weight. She attacked him ferociously; cracking his head back into the pavement with two quick punches, still rabbit fast as always.
She rolled over, however, to face the inevitable. Tangled as she was with the unconscious robber, she had no way to pull her unresponsive body away from the first attacker, who was just now pushing the wheelchair off of his bleeding left leg, standing angrily.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked, as he pointed his wrists toward her. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she saw the energy begin to coil around the bracelet, mere seconds from killing her.
“I’m just someone doing what’s right,” Barbara said, holding her head high. She could hear footsteps pounding this way. Regardless of whether he killed her, he was going to be caught. She had won.
“Well, I’m someone doing what I can,” the man said evilly, smiling a cruel smile. With a slight twitch of his fingers, she saw the energy shoot out…
…and slam into the man lying on the ground beside her, killing him. He missed! Barbara thought ecstatically, but instantly saw why.
Standing beside the man, still clutching his arms above the bracelets, the Ageless Stranger smiled at the man whom he had saved Barbara from, then snapped his forearms like pretzel rods. As the man screamed in pain, Roland said, “Your gauntlets are powerful.” His voice sounded like gravels being turned in a grinder. “I wonder what would happen if they touched?”
“NO!” the man screamed in horror, even as Roland flipped the shattered arms together, forcing them into the man’s stomach. The metallic bands, coursing with so much energy, exploded. The blast, channeled by the angle and the pressure of Roland’s grip, tore into and through the man’s body, leaving very little to fall to the ground once he let go.
Paying no heed to the dead bodies, Roland wiped his hands on his long coat, which seemed to magically cleanse them and yet left no stains on his hands. He then picked up Barbara’s wheelchair, rolling it over to her. She didn’t resist as he picked her up, carefully placing her into the chair. She could still hear the guards coming, but they had slowed, probably nervous after all the noise. But she realized she only had a few seconds.
“Why?” she asked, knowing that that one word encompassed so many different questions.
“Because,” Roland said as he stepped back. “You were losing your way. The chair was growing more important than the person, and that cannot, should not, ever be the case. You must never forget that the good you do, the lives you save, are always important. They are all that is important. Our lives, our loves, our fears…they are unimportant if we allow others to suffer because of us.”
“But,” Barbara said. “If I had died, you were right, Dick wouldn’t be able to handle it now. His life, it’s hard, and it gets harder daily. Not to inflate my importance or anything, but…”
“Sweet Barbara, I understand. But don’t you see? You knew that, even as you propelled yourself down this ramp, yet you also knew that even though he will chastise you for your actions here, he will know in his heart you made the only choice possible. Knowing you survived will sooth his realization of what he would have done without you.”
“Your words are kind, Roland, but while I know I cannot stop you today, I will not stop trying to catch you, either.” Her voice hardened, and she took her hand away from the Ageless Stranger. “You killed these two in cold blood, and played with my life for your own reasons. You could have saved those people at the bank, couldn’t you?”
“No,” Roland lied.
“I don’t believe you.”
“As you wish,” Roland said, backing away. She watched as he walked to the corner of the landing and made the turn. No sooner than the tail of his trench coat disappeared than the guards rounded the corner, gaping at what they saw. Then the questions came.
So, he saved your life? Dick said into her earpiece from Bludhaven. Sounds suspicious to me. I wonder what his real game was.
“I don’t know,” Babs said, reclining back in her chair. “I really believe he wanted to save my life, but it’s his methods I disagree with. You should have seen it, Hon. One minute he was kind and sweet at the table or just before he left, and the next he was cold and deadly, just as he murdered those men. He was every bit as insane and unknowable as all my records on him showed. Plus, I have a strong suspicion he and Bruce have a history.”
Surprise, surprise. Make that thing 2,348 Bruce has deigned to withhold from us. I’m gonna make a chart some year. The long-held resentment in Dick’s voice came through loud and clear.
“True,” Babs said, taking a drink of her coffee. “But I wonder what happened?”
Me too.
The End...
Previous Issue | Next Issue