[𝚄𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍]

Last Login:
October 24th, 2020

Gender: Female

Age: 20
Country: United States

Signup Date:
August 14, 2018


01/14/2019 02:10 PM 

[Nightmares: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Nightmareswww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
It was dark. So dark.
Why was it so dark? And why did everything hurt so much? Her mouth was both dry, and tasted like it was full of blood at the same time.
Trying to shift, Stephanie looked up and to either side, to realise her movement were restricted by heavy chains connected to manacles around her wrists, arms covered with long dark sleeves and spiked gauntlets, hooked to the wall, her shoulder searing with pain.
She knew this place. She couldn't possibly be here though.
Lowering her gaze from her arms, wincing as she shifted her weight, pulling against the restraints, her heart sank as her fears were confirmed. Standing across from her, where she knew he would be, reading his 'tools’, stood Roman Sionis, the Black Mask.
She was vaguely aware of him speaking to her, her head foggy from the beating she took that got her here.

“Time to wake up, little girl. You slept all the way through the move to my safe house. But nap times over, Sweetie. The night is quickly passing, and we have so much to do.”

Frowning, she felt her mouth open to speak, responding automatically.

“You better let me go. You can't imagine the trouble coming your way if you don't…”

'What? Stephanie. You can do better than that. If you're gonna mouth off, MOUTH OFF, girl. What are you doing?’

She was gonna have to relive it beat by beat, wasn't she? Again.
Black Mask however, was unphased by her words. As anyone would be. No one knew she was gone, after all. Steph realistically knew how this played out. She knew what was coming. She had already lived it. And he was already plugging in the power drill, using the flashlight on the ridiculous helmet he was wearing to see. She wanted to cry. Oh god. That damn drill.

“Oh, you'd be surprised at what I can imagine. And it's the additional trouble coming your way that should concern you just now.”

She started to speak again. She wished she could stop herself. She wished she had any control over any of this.

'Please. Stop.'

“You're going to torture me with a power drill? During a citywide blackout? Idiot. How did you ever graduate from master criminal school?”

'Yes, Stephanie. Yes he is. In about three seconds…'

“By showing my instructors I was able to plan ahead -- such as having a portable generator on hand. Now shall we begin?”

The whirring of the drill mixed with her own screams, her joints exploited, skin torn as he worked her over, silently.
She would have preferred if he cackled like a maniac, or something, so there was something other than the damn drill and her own screaming.

“Oh no you don't, young lady…”

The voice caused her eyes to slowly open, blinking down at the yellow bat across her chest. Bat? Shouldn't she be in her Spoiler suit for this? The thought caused her head to snap up from her chest, finding that god-damn wooden face inches from hers, where it would have been anyway, holding the blade she vaguely recalled him using along her ribs before she blacked out.

“You aren't going to pass out on me again. So far I've had to carry this conversation entirely by myself, and that won't do at all.”

She weakly looked around the warehouse, she knew it was a warehouse now, seeing her cowl and cape laying where her mask and cape would have been sitting.

“Your smug silence is intolerably rude.”

Mask had the scalpel now. She remembered it just as well as the drill. So sharp she barely felt it, until she was bleeding.

“Is that how your mother raised you? Didn't she teach you how to be a proper guest in anyone's house?”

The blade, coming towards her mouth. She was about to speak. She knew the words well. Her voice was hoarse, vocal chords likely damaged from the screaming.

“P-please… beg you…”

Roman leant in, his ear almost to her mouth, the permanent wooden grin unshifting.

“I'm listening.”

The steady stream of blood from her nose and mouth made her words thick, heavy.

“Drop dead… kay?”

'We gotta learn when to not run our mouth. That was a bad choice, looking back on it.’

Stephanie didn't remember a lot of day two. She was sure her smart ass remark had a lot to do with it. Or the fact she had already been bleeding pretty badly for a day. She did remember him reaching for the hacksaw.

“Stop! Please, stop! I give up. I can't… I'll tell you anything you want to know…”

'Here it comes, Steph. Brace yourself. He's gonna get gross. You know it's coming. You can't beat his ass yet. And even when you get to that point, he still walks out of here.’

“Lovely. Truth be told, I was beginning to suspect you didn't know all that much. I mean, you're as pretty as a peach, but you're not exactly one of Batman's smartest minions, are you? Maybe he used you for your other, more obvious advantages, eh?”

He set down the hacksaw, leaning in close, the dull light from the helmet much too bright for her swollen eyes at this point.

“Keep up morale? Keep the troops happy?”

She remembered how she seethed with anger, and jerked against the chains. She was doing it now, she had no control over it. Everything was as it was, after all, aside from her suit being different.


He was so unphased by her. Of course, he could have actually had a massive grin on his face, and she could never have been able to tell. That God Damned mask. She hated it, so much.

“And you've turned out to be a wonderful conversationalist, so shall we continue?”

Shaking her head, Steph let out a soft sob, her cheeks wet with tears, blood, and sweat.

“Just don't hurt me anymore…”

“Depends, little darling. It all depends on what you have to say.”

Steph wished she was stronger. She wished that she didn't break. She eventually broke, and told him the grand plan. That stupid plan. Why'd she have to steal that plan. So many people died because of her. Good people too. Like Orpheus.
Right in front of her.

'Oh god, Orpheus. I'm so sorry…'

It was all her fault.
It went dark again.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Waking up again who knows how long later, alone, she knew what came next. And how much it was going to suck.
It was light out. She could see it through the windows.
Slowly, painfully, with great difficulty, she pulled her left arm free, letting out a strangled gasp of pain. Her legs couldn't hold her up. This was a bad idea. Hanging from her right arm, she groaned and pulled with her body weight, her weakened, damaged joints screaming in protest, however, she managed to slip her other arm free, without dislocating anything.
She hit the ground hard, exhausted, in pain. She just wanted to lay there. But she couldn't. He could be back any minute now.

'Get up. Get your legs under you, and get up. You don't die here. So get up.’

Pulling herself to her feet, using the table that the implements of her own little hell sat on, she glared down at them for a moment, and staggered away, down the hall, to lay in wait.

“Oh god that hurts… ow, owowow…”

'You should have left. You should have run away, instead of trying to be some kind of hero. You might have been ok. You might not have died… you should have gone with your first plan of get to Leslie. Get word to Batman. You idiot. You're an idiot sometimes, Stephanie Brown. Think about things please. From now on. We gotta think.’

None of her self chastising mattered. She was stuck here, watching herself go through it all again anyway, she was wasting her time telling herself off.
Faintly, she could hear Roman's voice. He had come back. And he was looking for her.

“-someone who won't take you so much for granted? Trust me, Sweetie, you'll never find him men are all alike. We're all dogs. Sure, I treated you to a few hours of wonderfully intimate torture, but then, instead of that all important cuddling in the afterglow, I ran off to play with the boys. How insensitive of me.”

He stopped, stopped, and picked up her bloody cowl, what would have been her mask, where she left it, in front of a doorway, straightening slowly.

“Mea culpa Maxima. Can you ever forgive me, darling?”

Steph sprung out, holding the top of the door jam with both hands, catching him in the chin with her boot, adrenaline pumping through her. She remembered it well. She hasn't had a surge quite like it since.

“You're one sick monster!”

Before beginning to lay into him with more boots, in her blind rage even punching him in the face, forgetting it would do very little, as it was a wooden mask.

“Ow! That hurt!”

“There's more where that came from!”

Back heel kicking him through a table, her mind was on one thing . And he knew it.

“Ow! Stop it, honey! You're killing me! What's gotten into you?”

She kicked him in the family jewels to make up for punching him in the mask before, as well as just being a creep.

“You're inspired, girly-girl.”

Roman croaked as he lay in the rubble of the table, Steph over him.

“Ready to surrender?”

'You’re not as witty or as badass as you think you are…’

She was tired of seeing this now. She was done. She was sure that it was a bad dream at this point, so just let him shoot her and be done with it. She just wanted to wake up.

'Wake up. Wake up WAKE UP WAKE UP!'

She shrieked internally, yet it continued, as per usual. Black Mask reaching into the ruins of the desk, drawing the gun, pointing it at her face.

“You bet. After this one last lesson in crime-fighting. In the future, always assume the villain has several hold-out weapons stashed all over his lair.”

Snatching the gun from his hands, and kneeling on his prone form, pointing the gun at his face, Steph just wanted it to hurry up. She wished she could either force herself to pull the trigger now, or just… anything. But first, she had to speak. Because of course she did. She always did.

“Not this time. This time your murdering career ends forever.”

The lack of expression, that wooden god damn mask, drove her crazy. But she was sure he was surprised under it.

“Oh my-- I'm truly impressed. You've got me now, sheriff. But do you have the sand to actually pull the trigger?”

Steph stalled. Of course she did. She couldn't go through with it, even after all he did to her. For one reason.

“So, are we just going to sit here all night? You beat me. You got me. Now all you've got left to do is pull the trigger and you save all those lives.”

Either way, in this situation, she had so much blood on her hands already. So, so much blood. God, just wake up, Steph. Wake up, and go do some good.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

“And everyone I might kill after tonight. All you have to do is become judge, jury and executioner.”

She pressed the barrel to his forehead.

“I could do it! I COULD! Maybe even I should. But that would mean ignoring everything Batman has taught me. And I've already done too much to betray his trust.”

'Here it comes. Brace yourself…’

She lowered the gun. Roman took this smallest slip in focus, and struck, taking the gun back, driving his fist into her face, knocking her backwards, and fired a shot, clean through her shoulder.

“There. Get it? That's what you should've done to me. All the martial arts ninja training in the world doesn't matter a tinker's damn. The only thing that counts is whether or not you have the will to do what needs to be done. That's why I win, even though you beat me.”

As he spoke, leaving her crumpled on the floor, he turned and walked back up the stairs, and shut the door, leaving her in darkness.
Normally, this is where she would wake up. Laying there, holding her shoulder, she frowned, as the pain stopped, and she slowly got to her feet. She could act freely now? Ok…? Moving to take a step, she froze as she saw it.
Movement under the steps.
Unfolding himself to full, 6’2” height as the claw like nails gripped at the railing, twisted, manic grin spread across a face she knew, yet know longer recognised.

“Oh god…”

She whimpered, reflexively.

“ThAt wasss just the warM uP… yoU haVen't seEN aNyThinG Yet!”

Snapping awake with a yelp, drenched in a cold sweat, heart racing, Steph choked back a sob, and got out of bed. Moving at almost a run through the house, hitting every light switch on her way, wiping her eyes on her shirt as she did.
Suiting up, she took great care to not look at herself, at any of her scars, old or new, jamming the cowl down over her bed head mess of hair, running out to the garage and revving the Compact, tearing out into the few hours of darkness before dawn.
She didn't want to sleep again any time soon after that. And she still had so much to make up for. There had to be someone to go and punch.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

01/10/2019 08:08 PM 

[Crime Doesn't Pay: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Crime Doesn't Paywww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Crouched low, breathing steady, the night vision lenses of her cowl active, Batgirl counted the numbers in the warehouse where she was hidden silently. Twelve gang members. All with half masks or bandanas covering their faces. Only two of them armed with anything more than a blade or bat.
A new forming gang.
They must have been stupid.

“Alright boys, listen up, listen up. Tonight, we're gonna get the rest of you some heat. Then we're gonna start the real work on these streets.”

He sounded young. Not much older than her. Early twenties, maybe? She almost felt bad for what she was about to do to them. But it was better her than The Big Bad Bat, really.

'Or was it?'

She mused as she flung a batarang (just a standard one, how boring) at the table in front of the 'leader’, already moving, sticking to the shadows, deactivating night vision on the go.

'At least if it was Batman, it would be, you know, Batman kicking the crap out of them, not a tiny blonde thing. They'll probably tell who ever it was Bats anyway…’

Steph would shrug to herself, a slight grin at the mental image at the thought. However, the batarang did what she wanted. They were spooked.

“Who's there?!”

Unable to help herself, she let out a laugh, continuing her movement.

“Did you really just ask that? With the Batarang right there?! In Gotham?! At NIGHT?! You poor sweet summer children…”

As she spoke, she kept on the move, her obviously feminine voice having them less on edge than they were, yet still spooked.

“Come out and fight like a man, you bat bitch coward!”

The one nearest to her yells, into the darkness about six feet to her left. Slowly, she grins, coils her legs under herself from her current perch on the shelving, and pounces, driving her knees into his chest, her hand on his head, forcing it into the floor. Vicious? Perhaps. But she was here to teach a valuable lesson, and even with that concussion, he wasn't likely to forget tonight's schooling. Stepping aside and giving her warmest smile, as opposed to a Batglare, she sat her hands on her hips.

“If you insist… Gentlemen, my name is Batgirl. I'm here to remind you that in Gotham, we do things a certain way. Shall we begin?”

One of the ones she noted was armed pointed at her, reaching for his gun.

“She's like, a hundred pounds, and we out number her, ten to one! Get her!”

The rush began. Knives thrusting towards her chest, baseball bats swinging in every direction.

“Those odds hardly seem fair. For you.”

She grinned, ducking the first bat to come for her head, catching the wrist holding the blade, striking the elbow, while twisting back on the hand, kicking the knife away. Frankly, it was unfair, with how trained she was, and how unskilled they were. She had to admire their dedication though. Weaving through them, it might as well have been the lowest setting on the training simulations back in the Batcave.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Steph found that she had begun toying with them. Letting them get body blows in, only to hit back harder across the face. One with a broken nose came back for more. She liked his moxy. She wasn't sure when she started using moxy. But here she was.
There was a click, as something pressed against the back of her head. She had been toying with them too much, and not paying attention. Eyes quickly darting around, she noted that the two she pegged as armed with guns weren't on the floor around her.
Letting out a sigh, she slumped her shoulders slightly, and slowly turned in place, so the barrel was against her forehead. It was shaking.

“Stop right there Batgirl. I'll shoot. I will.”

His voice was younger than the others. But similar. A brother? That would explain why he was also armed when the others weren't. Keeping a neutral expression, she blinked once, examining his face. His dark eyes were terrified. Shooting a look over to the other armed one, who hadn't left the table (some leader he was), his hand on his gun, watching intently, Steph knew what she was going to do.

“Big Brother pulled you into this mess, huh? You really wanna end up Bat fodder when you could be home? In bed? Not getting hospitalized?”

Little Brother looks back at Big Brother, shakes his head, pulls off his half mask and shoves the gun into Steph's hands.

“I didn't wanna be here at all…”

Big brother puffs up indignantly, slamming his fist into the table.

“Eric! You're meant to have my back!”

Shuffling off towards the door, stepping around the bodies of the beaten and broken, Eric left, Steph dismantled the gun, throwing it in opposite directions.

“Good call, Eric. Get home, and call the GCPD. And you…”

She turned her attention to Big Brother, with a grin.

“We have some things to talk about, don't we bud?”

He, however, disagreed, and took off like a shot, taking his gun, down the hall, further into the dark warehouse. Steph sighed slightly, rolling her eyes, and went out the window, following on the roof, activating her heat vision lenses in her cowl. Once he had stopped moving in, in a loading dock, and was spinning around in place, obviously looking for her. Slipping in through a long busted window, and returning to regular vision, she caught the last part of a rant.

“-creepy f***ing bats just lurking around in the damn dark!”

Unable to help herself, she crawled along the top of a rafter, starting her talk and relocate routine again.

“Have you idiots ever considered meeting in well lit places during the day then? Maybe we wouldn't be a factor then. Just putting it out there.”

Apparently, Big Brother wasn't playing around. He fired three shots in the directions her voice came from. All missed her, just. One clipped a fire extinguisher, filling the area with a growing cloud of whirling, thick fog like obstructive gas.

“Whoops… maybe you should watch where you're shooting, Tex. You are keeping track of your shots, right? Because I am… three more. Make them count…”

She should just end it. Here and now. But if this punk was stupid enough to try to start a gang, in Gotham she needed him to understand what that meant. Darting across the floor now, causing the cloud to swirl around her, she dropped down into a baseball side, under the long forgotten truck, as another shot fired off behind her, ricocheting off the floor somewhere, lost.

“Ooh, unlucky. Two more…”

Was it bad that she was enjoying herself? Probably a little. She could practically hear Batman in her ear, telling her to end it already.
Crawling silently up on top of the truck, she did something, frankly, bordering on cruel and unusual punishment territory. She flung a gooparang at his feet, and ran along the top of the truck, vanishing down the back behind him, as he fired at her.
Her beloved green goop detonated from its pods, encasing his legs from the knees down, trapping him in place.

“And then there was one!”

She called from somewhere behind him. He did with the shot what she thought he might. Try to shoot at the goop. It did nothing. Steph thought about immediately pouncing on him. But watching him strain his eyes and ears to try to find her, jumping at every little sound, the cars on the freeway in the distance, the rats in the walls, kinda amused her.
She had some problems she needed to work out. She knew.
After five minutes, she had crept up behind him, and lightly tapped his shoulder.

“So, what did we learn here tonight?”

He screamed. Of course he did. It took everything she had to not laugh.

“That crime doesn't pay. Please. Miss Bat. Batgirl please don't hurt me. Please…”

Circling to his front, she raised a brow, not that he could see it under her cowl.

“Oh, honey. Don't worry. You won't feel a thing…”

He looked like he was about to start thanking her, when she grabbed the back of his head and drove him, skull first into her knee, which she swung upward with just as much force.
She lied.
He'd feel it when he woke up.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

12/30/2018 10:10 PM 

[Freudian Slip: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Freudian Slipwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
“So, Stephanie, how do you feel?”

A simple enough question, really, the answer should be easy, right?
She was a pretty, white, blonde, college kid, life was easy, right?
If that were the case, she wouldn't be sitting here, being watched like a hawk by the therapist Leslie- sorry, Doctor Thompkins, basically ordered her to go see.
So. How did she feel?
Letting out a sigh, she shifted in her seat, pushed up her sleeves, fresh war wounds from a not so clean fought fight still healing on her forearms, her skin having been torn away in patches, no longer needing the dressings, so she didn't bother with them, and raised both her brows, rotating her arms at the elbows slowly, holding them out.

“Do you mean physically, or emotionally, Doc?”

She watched the quick flicker of surprise pass over the therapist, Doctor Greene's face, before she had it back under control, pursing her lips slightly.

“Doctor Thompkins warned me you would be reluctant. She also warned me that you might try to shock me. She cares about you, Stephanie.”

Leaning back in the seat, Steph folded her arms, and legs, lowering her chin slightly, resisting the urge to puff out her cheeks in annoyance.

“She tell you anything else about me…?”

The pout was definitely coming though in her voice, though, and Doctor Greene smiled lightly at it, swiveling in her chair behind her desk, setting down her notepad.

“She told me you had secrets. I'm good with secrets, you know.”

How condescending. Steph rolled her eyes and groaned, unfolding her arms and letting her hands fall against the cushion either side of her thighs with a dull thud.

“No, really, I am. You couldn't get me to tell you anything if you tried.”

“I dunno, I used to think that too. Then I was tortured for three days.”

Steph wasn't sure why she said it. It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and she wasn't sure what was worse, the hollow voice she said it in, or knowing that she would probably break under torture again if it happened. It took her a second to realize she was staring right at Doctor Greene, blank faced, while she was dwelling on those thoughts, who looked genuinely concerned.

“...I hope that's a very dark joke, Stephanie…”

Setting her jaw, in a fashion familiar to her, but not usually something done by her, she shakes her head slightly.


“Would you like to talk about it…?”

Stephanie let out a harsh, barking laugh, making the doctor jump, she hadn't been expecting it.

“Absolutely not.”

Taking up the pad again, and scribbling away, Greene asks

“Well, what about home life then. How is that?”

She was trying. Trying hard. Steph had to give her some credit there, at least. She’d throw her this bone.

“Home life? My father is a two bit criminal who has been in and out of Blackgate my whole life, and my mother is a nurse who up until about two years ago was high on about anything she could smuggle out of the hospital. This is Gotham. How do you think my home life is? I grew up around crooks and no-goodniks. Hell. My father has used me as part of his stupid schemes before. He tried to use me as insurance to make sure the Bat would be his heavy.”


“My dad, oooh, he's a real piece of work… he's tried to kill me, you know? He's my arch nemesis”

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
“He threw me off a roof, he left me with one of his buddies for a week while he was trying to take mom to rehab, and that guy tried to f***ing rape me, I couldn't be anywhere near adult men for… I can't even remember how long after that. Sure, he killed the guy but that doesn't make up for it, that just makes him a murderer, and a sh*tty father.”

She stopped pacing to run her hands through her hair, holding it back for the big one. The kicker.

“He made a bunch of kids in my collage into criminal meta humans to be villains to fight me, to lure me to his prison so he could POISON ME WITH ALIEN SPORES AND PUT ME IN A COMA!”

Her voice continues to rise, and she motions with her hands like her mind was exploding, whipping around to look at Doctor Greene, who sat, pen in hand, dumbfounded. Blinking slowly, she sat the pad down again, formed a tent with her hands, and rested her chin on them.

”...huh… I think I understand what Leslie meant by secrets now… ok… you're one of them.”

Taking several, long, slow, deep breaths, Steph slowly sat down, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

“Yeah. And I really don’t wanna talk about anything that happens. I shouldn't have said anything about my dad. He just…”

She lets out a low growl, and Greene nods.

“I can see why. It's a lot to go through. You're still so young, to have dealt with that much already, as well as what I'm sure you see during the night job.”

Stephanie says nothing, simply nodding.
Sometimes it was hard. She knew the others didn't think she took it as seriously as they did because she wasn't grimdark broody faces like they were. But if she had to deal with going back home, the job, and her own crippling self esteem issues by being the way they were, by not having fun with things, by being stone faced, she would go LITERALLY INSANE.
Realizing she was still being watched, she expressed exactly that thought.

“I appreciate the concern, I know Leslie cares. She took me away after I died to recover after all. Oh, yeah, I died. It was from the torture. No, I'm not going to talk about it. But talking things out? Expressing my feelings? That's just not what I do. I cope by punching faces. And yelling about how sh*tty my dad is.”

“And awful, poorly timed jokes…”

Greene notes, Steph nods, admitting defeat on that one.

“I think time's up, Doc… and no, I won't be back…”

She says, quite firmly, getting to her feet again, Doctor Greene rising too.

“I didn't think you would be, Stephanie. Take care out there.”

Steph was walked to the door.
She lied, however.
She was back, later that night, in her suit.
She took the damn notepad, and removed the digital client file.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

11/11/2018 04:15 PM 

[Bat Takes Flight: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Bat Takes Flightwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Pat. Pat. Patpatpatpatpat.
She ran, and jumped straight off the roof.
No pause, no hesitation in her stride.
The rush of adrenaline as she plummeted two, six, ten storeys was one of her favorite feelings in the world.
The sharp intake of breath, the blood pumping in her ears, more awake than any amount of coffee could ever make her, she gave it a three count, drew her grapple gun, as she continued to fly headfirst towards certain death, and with measured, well practiced coolness, aimed a shot at one of the stoic guardians of Gotham, one of hundreds of gargoyles perched around the city, keeping watch.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Finding her mark, she adjusted her grip, and braced herself for it. The twang of the line going taut.
If unprepared, it could easily rip a girls arm right out of its socket. She should know. It's happened before. And it sucked.
Swinging her legs around as the line was starting to go taut, she swung herself towards her chosen destination, strategic freefalling, rooftop running and yet more dives to reach it. She had gotten better. She didn't whoop and cheer as she swung through the night anymore, even if she still felt the same joy.
It was good to be Batgirl.
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

10/04/2018 12:20 PM 

[Born on a Monday: Drabble]

attention: | mentions: Born on a Mondaywww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
How? How was this happening to her? Why now ?
Of course she was the only one on hand when Solomon Grundy decided to start causing chaos.
Bats was out, big bad Justice League business, above her pay grade. Robin and Red Robin we're doing some Titans thing. Thanks for the invite, boys. Nightwing had more than enough on his plate in Bludhaven, and Black Bat was off being a total badass somewhere else. Probably involving stabbing Shiva.
That left her.
Little ol’ Stephanie Brown.
She talked a lot of sh*t, and often backed it up. She fought a lot of things she probably shouldn’t have, but this call out genuinely made her worried. She didn’t really have the luxury to think about that though, because she was already en route.

“Now you have to stay focused, Steph. If he gets his hands on you you're-”

“Yeah, I’m as dead as he is. I know, O. Stop reminding me. It doesn’t help. We both know you’d rather it be anyone but me out here for this but we drew a sh*tty hand tonight… now please. Let me focus.”

She scowled, her hands gripping at the handlebars of the Ricochet, resenting how much she sounded like Him just then, but the sentiment remained.
She needed to be fast. Smart.
Gritting her teeth, Stephanie caught sight of the wreckage of what was East End. Grundy had hit it like a hurricane. She felt sick to her stomach.

“Oracle, are there GCPD in the area?"

The clicking of a rapid search came over the comms, then her response,

“Yes, but they’re pinned down in the library, trying to help keep people safe. They can’t help you.”

Steph normally didn’t tut. That was normally a Damian thing. She tutted.

“I wanted them to get people out, so I don’t have to worry about that too. Tell them to start evacuating on my signal…”

“Wait, what will the signal be?”

“They’ll know it when they see it…”

She mutters, and floors it, heading for the Gotham Library.
She could hear him, roaring, tearing up street lamps.
Oh god she hoped this worked. Lining up the hulking, grey frame on the sidewalk, she pressed a few buttons on her console, then released her grip on the handle bars.


Batgirl was launched out the top of the vehicle, as it continued at top speed, slamming into the back of Grundy, spinning away, sparking on the asphalt.


Turning to find what hit him, he spotted the blonde bat, making a three point landing from her hasty ejection, her eyes on Solomon. The comms crackle.

“That was your signal?”

“Part of it… yep..”

She mutters, then throws one of her electro-rangs at Grundy, finding her mark as it sunk easily into his rotting flesh, jolting him. Normally, it would have dropped a person, like being hit with a taser, but all it seemed to do was make him mad.
She took off at a dead sprint, across the plaza, away from the library.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Behind her she heard him start after her, along with the dragging and scraping of something heavy.


Whatever it was, he just threw it at her. She couldn’t risk glancing back.
Taking out her grappling gun, aimed, fired, and started towards a building across the plaza.
The Ricochet crashed down on the line as she was mid-take off, Grundy's long range depth perception either terrible, or much better than she expected, cutting her off hard, jerking her heavily into her bike, knocking the wind out of her sails, only just managing to roll aside, to not be pinned beneath it as they both bounced to the ground.

“You’ve got his attention. Now what?”

Oracle asked, somewhat wearily, as Steph groaned slightly, rolling away, trying to regain momentum, feeling the heavy footfalls as he closed in.

“That was the signal… they better be moving…”

She pushed herself up off the ground, and started towards the nearest inclosed building.

“They are… but who is going get you out of there when this goes south?”

She vaulted though the window, feeling fingers brushing her cape, twisting and slamming the pane shut on the offending arm, taking a minute to look around her surroundings.
A tiny, ten seater coffee shop.
Yeah, no. Last stand worthy this was not.


Gotta move…
Steph scrambled over the counter and out the back door, to the horrendous sound of the front of the building being bulldozed by the revenant, trying to make good on his word. The back of the coffee shop lead to an alleyway, feeding down between the back of office buildings, with trash, dumpsters, fire escapes, and back entrances, and locked gates. Basically a bullpen. Or a dead end, if played wrong.

“Steph! I’ve got Nightwing flying in to help you out, if you can just hold out until he gets there.”

“Sure, because I was just taking it easy this whole time….”

She would have rolled her eyes, but she was too busy using them to scope out the alleyway, looking for ways in which to maybe get an upper hand, maybe only come away mauled, only maimed, not murdered.
The only real answer she kept rolling back around to were the fire escapes, and dumpsters. She’d have to plan on the fly.
Keep Grundy in this alley, with her, until D*ck got here. No big deal. Then the two of them could die together.
No, that kind of thought was gonna help. She fiddled with a set of buttons, the remote call for Ricochet, on her belt as she ran to the middle of the alleyway, hoping it still worked, turning to face the advancing Grundy, drawing her collapsible bo staff.

“Alright, Brain Dead Fred, come get some!”

Taking up a defensive stance, the Batgirl waited as Solomon Grundy barreled down on her. She knew hitting him would only wear her out. It would be best with energy conservation in mind. Especially since her vehicle in scuffed and thrown around armor seemed like it wasn’t capable of coming to her rescue.
That was fine. Better to know now then if she needed it.
With Grundy swinging wildly at her, trying to swat her like an annoying gnat, she circled around him, ducking, dodging and weaving like her life depended on it. Because frankly, it did.
She propelled herself from the ground onto a dumpster using the staff as a pole vault, taking a running leap across the chained shut lid at the fire escape ten feet away.


Instead of swinging for her, Grundy knocked grabbed the fire escape, and pulled, leaving half the metalwork hanging loose, and another five feet away.

“Stop being so slow then, Rotbrains.”

Skidding to a stop, dangerously close to his grasp, she tried to reposition, ready to begin her defensive dance again, starting to wonder how far out Nightwing could be now. Unfortunately, Grundy may have been dead, but he wasn’t as stupid as Steph has hoped. He started circling her now too. Once they had switched sides in the alleyway, without breaking eye contact with her, he dragged the dumpster that was just used as a launch pad into the middle of the thoroughfare, cutting her directional movement in half, unless she vaulted again. While theoretically not a problem, it wasn’t a whole lot of distance between them for her to have her back to him comfortably.


She hisses, taking a half step back, running a quick inventory on what she had on her. Some smoke pellets, bo staff, magna-rangs, goopa-rangs, shock-rangs. She ditched her grapple before when she ate a face full of pavement before, which, was undoubtedly going to leave a mark.


Not likely. Not today.
Shifting her weight she got low, ready to start moving one way or the other.
It was a standoff, between the walking dead, and a dead man walking. Which was which? Who knew.
Grundy lunged.
Steph went to the left, slipping under his arm. He was fast. She was faster. She was thro-no.
She had a cape. And now Grundy had her cape.
Before she could reach up to hit the safety release on the cape, she had been jerked backwards, off her feet, and straight into the brick wall, like a ragdoll.
Everything went white, as she lost all her air.
Sinking down the wall, as the ringing started fading from her ears, her realised she could hear laughter. Grundy was laughing at her.
Struggling to push herself up, Stephanie let out a weak gurgle, then shook her head, trying again. Her mouth tasted like metal.
Ok, new plan. Getting up wasn’t going to happen. C’mon Steph. Think.
Grundy was looming over her now, a crooked grin on his stinking face, she looked up at him, up. Up. The fire escape. Hanging loose, rocking from the force of her hitting the wall.


Both fists, poised readys to slam down on her almost immobile body, Steph flung all her batarangs skyward with a yelp of pain, falling to her side.


She coughed slightly, red splattering the concrete before her, a slow, almost twisted grin spreading across her bloodied lips.

“Wasn’t aiming for Grundy….”

That was her queue. She rolled away, under the dumpster, as the force of the good dozen specialised batarang pods explosively discharged, knocking the precarious mass of metal loose, falling onto Grundy.
Stephanie wasn’t sure if she could hear the hum of a jet overhead, or if she was imagining hearing Oracle yelling at her to stay awake.
But everything went black.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

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