A Mask of Her Own [Flashback] [Batman, Batgirl]

[Deleted]

Bruce knew that his appearance at the event was important. People would give to orphanages; they always had. But, his presence and support increased giving by a factor of four. The money wasn’t the real goal, though. It was awareness, on a local and national level. His appearance and support would make national news. Not big news, but it would be heard, and orphanages around the country, and possibly farther, would be helped.

None of that meant he liked the idea of being here rather than on patrol, but at least this wasn’t him and some vacuous, or worse, money-hungry girl wasting an evening for sex and to promote a bad image. Granted, the sex was usually fabulous, but that seemed to be a combination of his frustration and the woman’s desire to be remembered, or so he thought. Irrelevant, though. He was here, and it was for a good cause. And without a woman to impress, he might be back on the streets before midnight.

The costumes had been the publicist’s idea, though it bothered Bruce. None of them were so good that he would have mistaken them for a real hero or criminal, though there was a girl that had an amazing job copying him. He was flattered, but also worried. Someone might think they were affiliated, and that could get her in trouble. As she faded behind a crowd and out of sight, his attention was taken by the Master of Ceremonies.

“Thank you for joining the Wayne Foundation’s ‘Costumes for Kids’ charity gala! As you know, all proceeds are going to support orphanages and homeless children throughout the city. These children need your help, and your kindness and support will help to make them more productive citizens in the Gotham of Tomorrow! But, you didn’t come here to hear me speak. The man you came to see is an orphan in his own right, his parents gunned down only blocks from where we’re standing. Through pain and loneliness, he survived. Granted, he had a support structure few could claim, but he wants to make sure that no child has to fend for themselves. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give it up for the man of the hour, our own Bruce Wayne, the reigning Prince of Gotham!”

Bruce hated that title. He had fame and influence, but not what really mattered. Bruce Wayne could not stem the forces of crime. He could feed the hungry, but he couldn’t stop the oppression, the greed, or the vice that fueled crime in the city. Or the insanity. That was a job for Batman. But, this was important, and he was more than willing to act the part. As he stepped up the microphone, though, a figure parted from the crown. Three men in ski masks flanked him, automatic weapons trailed on the phone. The leader the Killer Moth, and Bruce was not particularly impressed, though there was little he could do at the moment.

“I was an Orphan,” the Moth claimed, brandishing his own gun. “I never got all these wonderful handouts. You owe me, all of you, and I am here to collect! Money, valuables, gems, phones, everything. “

A three round burst escaped from one of the henchmen’s guns, destroying the phone a man was trying to make a call on and maiming his arm as well.

“Calm down!” Bruce called from the podium. “Given them what they want; it’s not worth your lives.”

“Mister Wayne,” the Moth called out, “is so very right. Not that I mind killing you, but ammunition is expensive these days, and money is tight. No more phone calls. Gentlemen, the bags . . .”

The thugs produced a laundry bags in which to catty the loot and started passing them around. “Give until it hurts people,” Moth called out, “or it most certainly will hurt – a lot!”

[Deleted]

The idea had been a fluke, a whim more than anything, but from the first she had heard of the event, Barbara had wanted to go. Costumed gala events were not normally her cup of tea, though she had attended a few here and there, but to be able to go as Batgirl in a costume she had designed herself, well, that was just icing on the proverbial cake. It had taken her weeks to create a costume she felt comfortable in and countless hours sewing things together. Cotton, spandex, leather, and latex were considered, but in the end Barbara had settled on vinyl, due mostly to its ability to shed water, a must if she were to be out on the street in the rain.

Moving about the crowd, Barbara smiled at this guest or that waiter, and though she did take a glass of Champagne from a passing tray, Barbara had no more desire to drink it than she would have diesel fuel. Her pause by a plant to pour the contents out going unnoticed, Barbara went back to her attempt to see Bruce Wayne, though she had to be on the lookout for her father as well. She wasn't sure if he'd recognize her as his daughter but Barbara wasn't willing to take that chance at the moment, even though if she was going to do what she thought she might - be a crime fighter - that day would come about soon enough.

The appearance of Bruce Wayne seemed to liven up the crowd as more than a few heads turned to see the arriving Prince of Gotham, a title she had often wondered about, especially since the city had a Crown Prince of Crime, but that was a thought she allowed to slip by, while she headed for a closer look, to see if Mr. Wayne was a god or just a man. His gaze upon her suggested a man, and in moments, Barbara had moved back to the shadows before anyone else took notice of her. Her so called debut had been met with very little fan fare, but then that was to be expected, what with *THE* Bruce Wayne at the place.

Her time well spent at any rate, Barbara had just turned to leave when she heard a hush fall upon the crowd, a hush followed quickly by gunfire Sizable chunks of plaster dropped from the ceiling, added evidence that something was wrong, but that was for the security guards to deal with, not her. One look around her though told Barbara the rented security had been taken out though in fact they had joined whoever was taking over the party, leaving everyone else - including her - their prisoner..., or so they thought.

In the split second between the decision for flight or action, Barbara chose action, though just what she would do was an unknown. Moving for the banquet table, she quietly removed the wine glasses and snacks from three trays and then moved for a corner to see what might be around. There in the middle of the room stood Killer Moth, a second rate criminal by Gotham standards, but he still had the command of the room, though that was soon about to change.

A minute later, light switches were flipped off, bathing the front of the room in near total darkness, before the first of three serving trays flew out of her fingers, each one headed for one of the thugs she had memorized in her mind. If they were still where she had seen them, they'd be dropped in an instant, but that was still a chance she would have to take.

[Deleted]

Bruce saw the woman dressed in the Batsuit skirting about the edges of the room. The guards wouldn’t be a help, and she seemed to know that as well. The criminals, at least, seemed sure of themselves. That meant less accidental gunfire, Moth had clearly stated his intentions not to kill, though that made sense for him to say. Still, he didn’t have a reputation or the gratuitous taking of life, and that was good.

When the lights went out, Bruce smiled. Anything could happen under the cover of darkness, though he couldn’t let it be obvious. The sounds of the screams, and sudden gunfire into the air made it difficult for him to track anyone my sound. He did catch, however, the sound of something spinning through the air just before the two loud clangs. He had thrown his arm up just in time to deflect whatever had been thrown, and it was big. Big enough to leave a bruise, though he didn’t think they would seriously hurt anyone. Knock them out? That was another story.

People were scared, and now, they were running. Trying to run was more descriptive; he could hear them tripping over one another, but that would at least get them out of the way of most of the gunfire. The chairs did not make good weapons. They were heavy, made for the comfort of the guests, and unwieldy when he couldn’t really see what he was fighting against. The microphone stand, though, with its weighted base, was much more ideal.

Bruce wasn’t sure where the Moth had gotten to, or if he had already been taken down. One gunman was still active near Bruce, though, shooting into the air and trying to regain control. His own shots drowned out his voice, though, and panic had taken hold of the crowd. Without something to reassure them, the panic would only build.

Bruce thrust forward with the microphone stand, base first, hitting the thug hard in his lower ribs. He reversed the makeshift staff to strike the thug on the head with the microphone end, then reversed it again, catching him on the bottom of the jaw with the base. Before the man could fall unconscious on the floor, Bruce had released the weapon and ducked low, wondering what had become of Killer Moth and the Bat girl.

[Deleted]

Darkness proved as much a disability as had the guns, but though Barbara had as hard a time seeing as the next person, she still remembered the approximate location of the gunmen and that aided her more than anything. stepping up behind the closer of them, Batgirl drove a kick to the back of his knee to double him back and into an elbow to the face, dropping him to the floor in a minute. The gun taken from his hands, she quickly took it apart and tossed the parts in different directions before she headed for the next thug.

Pausing for a moment when she thought she heard a sound off to her left, Barbara glanced toward the exit and instantly regretted the move, as her face was met with a fist the size of a baseball and just has hard; snapping her head to the right while sending stars before her masked face. By the time she had recovered, the thug had been taken down, though being knocked over by stampeding guests could hardly be called a takedown. Rising, Barbara drove a hard scissor kick to the side of her attacker's head to keep him down before she grabbed the automatic rifle he had been carrying and threw it away from his body, before she moved on.

She had lost Wayne and Killer Moth, but from the sounds of a fight up in the general area where Bruce Wayne had been, Barbara was close to certain that was where she would find them, but getting there was another issue altogether. People were running this way and that in their vain attempts to gain freedom, their confusion only adding to the mixture of thugs and frightened guests which had Barbara searching for a way through the mêlée. Ducking under blows meant for the thugs more than herself, Barbara finally made it to the platform where she had thought Bruce Wayne to be, but in that instant, she was alone - and an easy target.

"There's a bat dame up there, get her...shoot her, she messed with the boss."

Diving for cover, Barbara moved for the only opening she could find, the patio doors leading out into the garden. Her body tucked into a ball, she rolled through the fall, before coming back up to her feet, and though she was outnumbers three to one, the men had made a mistake in not coming at her all at once. For the next few minutes, it was a dance as Barbara led one thug after another, her fists and feet delivering the right blows at the right time, before each of the men were laid out on the ground to hurt to be of any threat...., though that still kept her from finding Killer Moth and his captive, Bruce Wayne.

[Deleted]

Bruce despised being caught out of costume in situations like this. The easiest way to get through them was to go along with the demands of the criminals and then go after them later. The girl in the Batsuit, though, had no idea he was Batman, not that it mattered. Why she was dressed like him and trying to play his role he didn’t fully understand, and the situation was rapidly getting out of control. He had to do something to change that.

He heard the voices of the gunman and caught the movement of the Bat girl toward the balcony. It was a good move, and her ability to dispatch the men was impressive as well, but she still didn’t know what she was doing. She was reacting. That she was reacting well, he thought, was as much chance as anything else, though she showed promise. He rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was another protégé.

Bruce closed his eyes and forced himself to remember the room. He pictured in his mind the details that most people missed. After several seconds he opened them and looked around. There was some light coming in from the balcony and it was enough. He moved to the wall, staying low. It took a few seconds for him to find what he wanted, but he knew where to look. Within seconds, the fire alarm had been pulled. The alarms went off and the emergency lighting activated. The light was dim, but in the relative darkness, it was more than he needed.

Killer Moth was pointing his cocoon gun toward the balcony, apparently waiting for the Batgirl to re-enter. Bruce made his move. Cutting across the floor, he hit the masked criminal from behind like a linebacker taking down a defenseless quarterback. Moth buckled under the onslaught, and Bruce smashed his weapon against the side of the fountain as they fell in. The water wasn’t deep enough to be a serious issue, and Bruce managed to keep the Moth occupied while looking like he was the one who had been attacked.

“Help!” he cried out above the din. “I have money! Save me!”

[Deleted]

Sweat trickling down from under the hot cowl, Barbara sized up the last two thugs and then attacked. It was the last thing either of them had expected and Barbara made sure to use their confusion to the best of her advantage. A scissor kick to the closer man's stomach to double him over, Barbara then jumped up and over his bent-over form, her hands landing squarely in the middle of his back, before she pushed off his body to drive the heels of her boots into the last man's face, knocking him to the ground even while she herself tumbled toward the fountain and a struggling Bruce Wayne.

One look his way told Barbara that he seemed to have things well in hand, though that made little sense to her. Bruce Wayne was the epitome of the rich, single playboy set, and even had he received some kind of training in self defense - which was doubtful - Barbara didn't think Wayne capable of putting up too much of a fight, though if her friends saw her in a simpler situation, Barbara was certain they'd think the same way with her. The glance gave Barbara a split second to act though, as three of Killer Moth's goons were starting to come around, which gave Barbara very little time to put an end to the disruption.

The sound of sirens approaching, Barbara launched herself onto the top edge of the fountain and then drove a solid kick to the side of Killer Moth's head, the force of the blow snapping his head to the left while sending the stupid-looking villain to certain unconsciousness. Jumping back down to the ground, she then grabbed Killer Moth and pulled him from the water so he wouldn't drown before she proceeded to help Mr. Wayne, though the moment she saw him up close and personal, she froze..., not because she was afraid of him, but because she was in awe.

"Um, Mr. Wayne, you are alright, aren't you? Do you need a towel or anything?"

Killer Moth down, staff members started to take care of the other thugs, while still others attended to the guests. Drinks were flowing even more than usual, a sign that Gotham's more regal side had been taken out of its comfort zone just long enough for them to require some kind of relaxant, something Barbara had never thought of doing. She could see some of the guests looking their way, no scratch that, her way, as if trying to figure out what or perhaps more importantly, who she was, which gave Barbara the distinct impression that it was time to leave, but still she waited for Wayne to tell her he was alright.

[Deleted]

Bruce considered the attentiveness of his would-be protégé. She was not fooled my expectations, but reacted to what she saw. Almost anyone else coming on the situation would see Bruce Wayne in trouble, because that would be the expectation. She didn’t. It surprised her, though, and left her vulnerable. That was something that would need to be worked on, if she was intent in wearing the symbol. An elbow into Killer Moth’s flame ended him as a threat.

“Thank you!” he said, loud enough to be overheard. He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer. “You’re going to get yourself killed,” he told her in a quiet voice. “This isn’t a game. Get out of here, put the suit away, and forget you ever wore it.” he whispered in a very different voice. It was hard, cold, and sharp.

The sirens caught his attention and he glanced to the balcony. The next balcony over was twelve feet away, and the one from there another twelve. Beyond that, a fire escape that led to both the roof and the alley below. It was an escape path, if she could makes the jumps and handle the height. “Never give the police a chance to question you or to detain you. They won’t understand. They’ll try to put you in a cage until they do, and in doing so, they’ll destroy you. Go, quickly.”

Bruce turned to face the crowd, raising his hands and accepting the adulation of sycophants. “It’s all under control!” he announced. “I had a few moments where it was touch and go, but the Wayne Foundation will never be brought low by such heavy-handed methods!”

He looked at the sprinklers, then down at his clothes. “It appears we’re all wet. Perhaps we should retire for the evening, but remember, criminals like this exist because, as children, then lacked strong family values and didn’t have a proper upbringing. Help the orphanages. Help the homeless, the out of work, and the single-parent families. Remember tonight, and remember the costs of not helping. Give, my friends, and help make Gotham City a better place for everyone!”

"Was that girl?" someone asked.

"How long as Gotham had a Batgirl?" another chimed in.

"Is Batman endangering even more children now?" a third asked.

Bruce turned back, nothing the girl in the bat suit was gone, then turned back to the crowds. "I don't think we'll be seeing her again, and I seriously doubt Batman had anything to do with this. After all, this was a costume friendly event, was it not? Go home, good people. We'll do this again sometime, with a little less excitement."

[Deleted]

The more he said the angrier Barbara became. She had just helped to save his life and what did it get her? A scolding, telling her to hang up the suit and go home. Not a game? Anyone could tell it wasn't a game, anyone with half a brain would know that. She had wanted to give a retort of her own, but Barbara knew this was neither the time nor the place, and besides she was already too angry to make any coherent speech on the matter.

Barbara knew where she had gone wrong. She had dared intrude on a "man's" world and been successful in doing so, and that simply could not be allowed to happen..., for after all, it was not a game. For now, all she could do was think of getting away from Wayne - from the other patrons - the party itself - the police, before she flew off the handle to do the one thing she so desperately wanted to do.

Following Wayne's gaze up and then across the various fire escapes that lined the buildings, Barbara turned and left, though if he thought she'd go his way then he was sadly mistaken. slipping through a thick hedge that separated the formal garden from the back alley, Barbara made a mad dash for the closest thing she could find - a tool shed - before she stepped into the building to make the change from the bat - girl to Barbara Gordon.

In minutes, the crazy chick that had pretended to be a bat had been replaced by a college student, the costume itself rolled into a ball to be deposited at the nearest trash can. Her evolution made, Barbara slowly opened the door to the tool shed to get a peek at her surroundings, before she stepped back out into the alley. Gotham's illustrious men in blue were already scampering around the premises looking for clues or maybe other culprits, and though a few of them looked her way, she was paid no real attention as she simply didn't fit the bill for a thug.

Pausing by a burning trash can only long enough to rid herself of any evidence, Barbara dropped the suit into the flames and then pretended to warm her hands, a sight that should have evoked suspicion as it was summer, but that it did not told Barbara of just how misguided her father's men could be. In minutes, Barbara was walking away, her head held low as if to study the pavement before her, though in reality she was trying not to be seen, a ploy that worked well enough, for in minutes, she was gone, a shadow in the night, much like the predator she had sought to be, but then that was over - at least for now.

[Deleted]

The police had everything under control. All of the items and money were recovered, and Bruce had managed to use the event to generate more giving to the cause of orphans before the people were allowed to go their own way. Many had tried to use their position to leave early, and Bruce had suspected some of them as having nabbed the possessions of others, hoping to not get caught in the mess. That Bruce Wayne was willing to stay and supported the police’s efforts to ensure all items were back to their proper owners before the scene was cleared virtually forced to stay and wait, and all items were returned to their proper owners.

With the villains caught and no items missing, the police had found it hard to argue that the ballroom was a crime scene. Again, with Bruce’s interference, the owners were able to get in and start cleaning the mess. Water damage necessitated a replacement of the carpets and much of the drywall. It would be a several day process until they would be open for business again.

Batman took the opportunity to go back to the site that next evening. Virtually all evidence would be gone from the Ballroom, but he doubted he would find what he was looking for there. The bat girl had left angry, which was part of the plan, but she had not bothered to take anything with her, and she had not been officially spotted leaving. That meant she’d had clothing somewhere. Whether or not the costume was left behind would be another question.

Outside, he looked over the ways to get free of the building. He’d offered the most obvious, but it could have been a trap and she would have had no way of knowing. She seen through Bruce’s veneer, and he’d all but dropped it in the fountain. It was possible that she suspected he was in on the crime. He found no scuff marks on the balconies or fire escape to show she had been that way, which indicated that she was intelligent and resourceful. Given a way out, she had not taken it and had found her own.

A search of the grounds showed a recent disturbance in a hedge behind the formal garden. Dirt from where the hedge grew gave him footsteps into the alley for maybe ten feet, but it was enough to give him a direction. If she had planned the escapade, then she would have has to have known about the plot from the beginning. He didn’t believe her actions indicated that, so he looked for a place that she could have changed out of view of any onlookers. An old phone booth was a possibility, but the quarters were cramped and coated with dust. No matter how lithe she might have been, she would not have been able to change there without disturbing the dust. The next thing he found was a tool shed.

There had been too much use of the shed to determine if it had been opened last night, but was unlocked, and the hasp showed no signs of having been recently locked. A look inside told him why. The tools there were of median quality and nothing else was really of any value. They could be stolen, but for little profit. Perhaps some had been stolen, or maybe the owner believed a lock would draw undue attention.

Cigarette butts littered the floor, but they were old. A closer look showed they were covered in dust as well, meaning they were recent. The same dust, though, painted the figure of a woman’s boots, the bare feet of a smaller person, quite possibly a girl, and then more sensible boots. Other markings in the dust showed were things had been laid down, recently. His quarry showed decent intellect, so he thought she would have washed water clothing had been in here by now, but he took samples of the dust anyway, much like he had of the dirt from the hedge before.

Upon leaving the shed, though, her path became lost in the myriad footsteps of the city. He would have to come up with a different tact to find more information. A little more than an hour later, a bum appeared on the scene, smelling of cheap rum and carrying a bottle half empty. He spent several areas wandering the scene and having disjointed conversations with the other homeless before he found a man that had scene what he was looking for. The bum offered him a pull off his rum for his story.

“Yeah, she was a young girl. Attractive, too. Bright red hair, nice clothes. Clean, I mean, and not trashy. She weren't no streetwalker and she came from a real home. She didn't belong here, but she was quiet and kept to herself, and she was a nice change of scenery, so we let her be. She hung around for a little while when all the police were crawling all around. Ignored us like always, the police. We’re invisible. Nobody sees us. You know what I mean. Anyway, she stood at the fire with something in a bag. She looked like she was making a decision about something, and then dropped it into the fire. She stayed there, rubbing her hands over the fire like they was cold, but it weren’t no cold night. After a while, she left."

“Would you mind if I went through the barrel,” the bum asked.

The homeless man gave him a long look. “What are you, some private dick hired to follow the girl? She done nothing wrong. Leave her alone.”

“I’m nobody,” the bum answered, and handed the man a hundred dollar bill. “I’d like it to stay that way.”

The homeless man snatched the money and hid it away as quickly as he could, looking around in a conspiratorial manner. “Nobody is who I give leave to for rooting around in our trash,” he said, and wandered away.

The bum dumped the contents of the can on the road and kicked through the ashes. Remnants of a black suit were found, with something yellow on the front of it. With a sigh, he gathered up what remained and headed away from the alley. Several blocks away, the disguise of the bum was removed and Batman took to the rooftops.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next morning Bruce appeared at the Gotham University Library. He looked remarkably sharp for having only a few hours of sleep, but it was a masquerade he was quite used to, when necessary. He wasn’t surprised when the Dean of the college introduced himself to the millionaire; he’d given a lot of money to the university in the past and would be courted for more at every opportunity.

“Mr. Wayne, I’m Dean Granger. Welcome to Gotham University! Had we known one of our most generous patrons was going to grace us his presence today, we’d have been more prepared.”

Bruce shook the Dean’s offered and gave him a mischievous smile. “If Mr. Luthor does show, make sure you have decent champagne on hand, but don’t spend too much money on it. He’ll find fault with any gesture you show.”

The Dean gave Bruce a quizzical look, then laughed half-heartedly, unsure if Bruce had been joking or not. “Mr. Wayne, I was referring to you.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, then leaned closer to the Dean. “Ah. Well, you didn’t know because there was no reason for you to know. As you’ve pointed out, I’ve put a good deal of funding into this fine institution; I was rather hoping I might be able to use its library without too much of a fuss.”

“Of course, Mr. Wayne! I’ll have the head librarian at your disposal immediately. Mrs. Crookshanks will be able to assist you in any way you desire.”

Bruce put on hand on the Dean’s arm, stopping him before he could get the librarian’s attention.

“Without a fuss,” Bruce repeated. “I can find what I am looking for on my own, and I would prefer that I be allowed to do so. I recognize that I have a certain amount of notoriety around town and would prefer not to have that accentuated by getting special treatment. Have a good day, Dean Granger. I’ll be just fine on my own.”

Confusion clouded the Dean’s face, and he took a half step back. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“I think you do. Mrs. Crookshanks has a job to do that doesn’t include babysitting visitors. So do you. If you would be so kind as to go back to doing that job, I would appreciate it. I will see the results of both best without an escort.”

The Dean straightened his tie and thought about possible rebuttals, but the look on Wayne’s face precluded them. “Very well, Mr. Wayne. However, should you –“

“I won’t,” Bruce interrupted. “Good day, Dean. It’s been a pleasure.”

After the Dean had left, Bruce realized that if he’d had any chance at getting in and out without drawing attention had ever been possible, it no longer was. Bruce gave a smile to the students around him before making his way to the help desk.

“Good morning,” he said to the gentleman behind the desk. “I’ve received assistance from a student that work here in the past. She was quite resourceful, though I can’t seem to recall her name. She has red hair, fairly tall, intelligent, graceful, and maybe a little shy. Would you happen to know where I might be able to find her?”

“Oh,” the student replied, “you must mean Barbara. She’s around here somewhere. I think she was headed to the archives.”

“Barbara!” Bruce exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “I think that was her name. No, don’t bother looking for her; I can find the archives. Thank you, you’ve been a big help.”

Bruce made his way to the archives and shortly found the young lady he was looking for.

“Good morning, Barbara. I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time. I have a project you might be able to help me with.”

[Deleted]

Barbara was not accustomed to being surprised any more than she was having students and staff members staring at her, but today these things and more were happening to her and Barbara didn't have a clue how to stop them. Bruce Wayne had the kind of presence that simply demanded attention and with all the money he threw around the town and the university, Barbara wondered if he didn't think that he owned them outright. Lowering her head so the others would not see her initial reaction, Barbara took a deep breath then let it out slowly, before she gathered her senses about her and went into action, hoping the deflection would throw Mr. Wayne off course.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, but my name is Barbara Gordon, not just Barbara, not even to someone as well known as you. Now, I do not mean to be rude, but there are others here that are far more qualified to help you with whatever you could possibly want. If you will excuse me?"

It had come out far more brutally than she had wanted it too, but the audacity of the man had riled her more than Barbara had wanted to believe. Turning before he could even get a word in edgewise, Barbara moved toward another set of stacks, placing the books she had been using to research law cases back where they belonged so other students could have an easier day. She had been embarrassed, even put on the spot, and her reaction, however justified it may have been, would have repercussions down the line, but if the powers that be felt she should have bent over backwards to kiss Mr. Wayne's feet, then they would quickly find Gotham U as having one less student.

One look around her told Barbara that maybe Mr. Wayne had taken the hint, but either way, she was not going to let the encounter bend her mind. She could see the other students staring at her as if she had lost her mind and maybe she had - the other night - but that had only been a momentary lapse in judgment, one that Barbara was going to make sure never had a repeat. The moment she saw the Dean Wolcott step around the corner to block her path, Barbara stiffened. This was going too far, and to her frame of mind her rights were now being trampled on, but she knew exactly how to handle Dean Wolcott.

**Miss Gordon, do you have any idea how important Bruce Wayne is to this university? It's obvious you do not, but if you wish to remain a student here at Gotham University, then you will apologize to him immediately.**

"Then consider me out of your precious university Dean Wolcott, for I will not be told how I am to conduct myself when I am allowed to exercise my rights. Good day."

Shoving the large stack of books into his hands, Barbara stormed out of the isle and on toward the elevator. She had only been as rude to Dean Wolcott as he had been to her, and she did not care at the moment if she had ruffled his feathers or not. The day had gone bad the moment she had arrived at the library and it had been going downhill all morning, but all she wanted to do now was put as much distance between the place and herself, if that was only possible.

[Deleted]

Bruce was both surprised and puzzled by Miss Gordon’s reaction to his presence. Granted, he had forgone much of his customary charm in an effort to get into see her without creating a scene. Obviously, he failed. He had also assumed much about Barbara that that was untrue. She had high marks in school, excelled in sports, and showed true promise in the martial arts. Reports also had mentioned she was introverted, but he hadn’t expected a reaction like that. That wasn’t typical shyness; that was someone acting like they ‘d been trapped and refused to let it happen.

The exchange with Dean Wolcott didn’t miss his attention, either, and that would have to be addressed; he would not support a university that allowed it’s leadership to threaten their students in such a manner, whether he meant it or not. It created a hostile environment, and while Bruce was the first person to admit that safety was ultimately an illusion, it was one he liked to foster and uphold as much as possible. What exactly it would mean for Mr. Wolcott he didn’t know yet; he would have to look into the matter.

Bruce drew close enough to the Dean to speak in his ear, out of casual listening range, with one hand on the man’s shoulder. “I can fend for myself, thank you. And, if you think I am important to this university, then maybe you should know that I don’t take kindly to threatening a student with expulsion because they have exercised their personal rights. Think about that. A lot.”

He moved to overtake Barbara, and was pleased to see her waiting for the elevator to arrive. He timed himself to arrive as the doors opened and took her by the arm, spinning her into him so they faced one another. He grabbed her with one arm around her waist and the other behind her head and moved in to kiss her forcefully, deeply, and sensuously. His eyes on the people exiting the elevator, he spun them into it as soon as it was empty and barred anyone else from entering. As soon as the door closed, he released her and pulled a key for the elevator out of his pocket, turning it to override the controls and hold it where it was.

“I’d say I was sorry about that, but I rather enjoyed it. I am sorry for the possible hit to your reputation, though. And I am certain that I’ll hear from your father, but that isn’t why I’m here. The other night, there was an event at a masquerade ball that you attended, though most people would not have recognized you. I have an eye for the female form, though, and yours is distinctive. I am curious, though, as to why you were there and what your connection is to the Batman?”

[Deleted]

As much as she had wanted to put distance between the whole mess and herself, Barbara quickly discovered the situation could - and would be worse for her. One minute she was minding her own business - fuming over what had just occurred when the next instant her lips were locked with Bruce Wayne's while his tongue explored the inner recesses of her mouth. The thought had occurred to fight the embrace, even to slap the hell out of the man, but in truth it sent warm sensations through her body that Barbara found hard to control.

The moment she was released though, all that changed. She had been attacked, assaulted even; by the very man that had so rudely assumed he could call her by her first name and now with the hot passionate kiss by the elevators, her reputation was totally shot. Her face would be everywhere in less than an hour, from the newspapers to the social media avenues of twitter, Facebook, Instagram, anywhere and everywhere that someone wanted to show it, and the headlines would be scandalous, and that didn't even go near what the tabloids would add in, whether it was true or not.

"As you seem to know me more than I do, Mr. Wayne, then yes, I was there, as a patron of that party and for no other reason. As for my connection to Batman....., there is none."

Seething with righteous furry, Barbara almost yelled out the response. Her hands going into fists because of what had just happened, she forced herself to relax, taking in deep breaths of air in the process, before she finally calmed down again. It was only then that she remembered the panel with the hidden controls located under the floor buttons of the elevator. Moving quickly for it, she opened the panel to see if some student had changed the setting for the voice recording inside the car, but saw that it had thankfully not been tampered with, which at least saved her from further insult.

"Mr. Wayne..., do you always take matters into your own hands as if you own the world, for I will let you know right here and now that you may indeed own half of Gotham, heck half this university, but you do not, I repeat do not own - me. And why would you care about what connection I might have with the Bat...."

Her retort catching in her throat while she glared into his eyes, Barbara fell back against the wall as the realization of just who was in the elevator with her sank into her brain. If an atomic bomb had gone off next to her, she could not have been any more surprised that she was now, and though her mouth had gone slack to show the awe she was experiencing, that momentary lapse in attention quickly faded, as Barbara regained control of herself completely.

"I don't have any connection to Batman...., though I did harbor thoughts to join him in his fight against crime. Granted I'm a woman, but I know I could have done the job, and yes, I know full well about the dangers, Mr. Wayne."

[Deleted]

Bruce smiled as he saw the light of recognition dawned in her eyes. He smiled, straightened his tie, and leaned back against the wall of the elevator. “I’m fairly certain that the Batman is quite aware of the woman you have become, much the same as I am. If you will recall, I’ve had some opportunity to watch you grow into womanhood; I’ve been helping with the Policeman’s Ball for several years, and I’ve seen you in your father’s company many times. I am not at all hesitant about telling anyone what a striking woman you’ve become.”

He drew a kerchief from his pocket, wiped his face, then inspected it. He wiped several more times until he was reasonably certain that was no lipstick or other sign of his indiscretion visible before putting it away.

“If you were the serious, focused, relentless Batman, how would you go best about hiding that in a civilian identity? Don’t bother answering. I’m quite certain that he manages the situation as best he can. Rumor would have it that I am a close, personal friend of our resident Dark Knight, though honestly, I’m not sure he’d be caught dead with me at his side. I can say, though, that I know a little of how he works, not that I necessarily approve. At any rate, I’m not completely certain that he’d see your gender as a handicap.

“There you were!" he began, dramatically recounting the events of the evening in question. "On the spot, in the middle of a heist by one of Gotham's elite criminal class~. You surprising ease, took their advantage from them, pressed them before they could adapt, and directed them away from the civilians! Very impressive, though had you actually been the one to take out the Killer Moth, I would have appreciated it.

He slipped back into a more serious role, regarding her with interest, though less lascivious than earlier. "I think he would like to know more about your detective skills, your commitment, how open you are to training. I am fairly certain, though, that he would believe you show promise, and that is something relatively rare, from his perspective. Not that you don’t show promise to me as well, though he and I have very different goals.”

Bruce cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows at the young woman.

“If you are interesting in pursuing this, though, you will have to find a way to meet him directly. I am afraid I’m not in a position to broker such a meeting. As to my actions earlier, as I said, I do apologize for any distress they might cause you, personally, socially, morally, and so on. I would welcome a public outcry of my actions, should you believe that a prudent course of action, though I would of course resist and refer it to those paid to handle such things for me. Should you confine yourself to complaining at the university level, the result would probably be another donation to the university. Your choice, as long as it is something to help the students or the disenfranchised on campus. If you decide to allow your father to become involved, I am certain a formal apology would become necessary.”

He produced the key once more to activate the controls for the elevator, but left the “stop” button depressed.

“I would suggest a rather dramatic rebuttal of my advances when the elevator doors open. I’m sure there will be a crowd. Please, though, try not to break any of the bones in my face; it would be inconvenient. So you are aware, I’ll be spreading my attentions around campus to other coeds. After all, I have a reputation for not dealing with rejection well. I might actually be found with alcohol in my system before all is said and done,” he added with a wink.

He moved out of the way to allow her access to the elevator control panel, moving as confidently as a lion roaming the savanna. He turned to position himself where she could strike him if she chose, and have unimpeded access to the door.

[Deleted]

Barbara only half listened to what Bruce had to say, but it didn't matter whether she was paying attention or not. She'd remember every single aspect of the time alone with him, from the type of socks he had on under the ultra expensive shoes up to the type of cologne he was wearing and everything in between. She was slightly amused that Wayne should choose to talk in the third person, but then one never knew who might have bugged the elevator regardless of one's civil rights, for when it came to security, the government never really cared about ones rights.

"I'm surprised at you, Mr. Wayne, seeing me as a hero. I did what my father would have done, get the innocents away from the danger, or if that was not possible take the danger outside. As for my detective skills as you put it, I am my father's daughter, aside from that, I was only a guest - in costume - nothing more."

Watching while he slid the special key into the slot, Barbara returned her gaze to the playboy's face for a moment, before she returned it to the far corner where she had been looking before. There would be no complaints, no official rebukes, no charges filed. If her father found out and Barbara was fairly certain that he would, she'd cross that bridge when it presented itself, but Barbara would not drag herself any deeper into the cesspool that Mr. Wayne had pulled her. Even his idea that she cause a scene to defend herself, or in his words - a dramatic rebuttal - would go unchallenged, for Barbara knew it would do nothing but bring even more attention to herself, and if she was going to pursue anything, that would be the least thing she would do.

Whatever else Mr. Wayne might have wanted to say would have to go unsaid, for in the next instant Barbara reached out and pressed every floor button the panel had on it, before she pressed the third floor button. There would be a crowd waiting on the first floor, but she had learned long ago how to avoid the crowds in the library, and by the time the people down below saw the car arrive down on the lobby level, Barbara would be gone, as she so hoped Wayne would be, from the library, from the university, and from her life.

"Like I said upstairs Mr. Wayne, I don't have any connection with Batman, and I do not wish any connection with the likes of you. Do not attempt to violate my privacy again."

Barbara paused only long enough to make the last statement, before she pulled the top of her jacket up over her head and vanished to the right. Just as she had expected, the third floor was empty of students, but even then she would not make herself a target for long. Stepping into the custodial closet located down by the emergency staircase, Barbara made sure she was alone before she slid the key the custodial staff always had under the bleach container into the slot, and in minutes, Barbara was be in the sub-basement, away from the crowds, the press, and her growing troubles.

[Deleted]

Bruce’s eyes narrowed as Barbara dismissed not only herself as a hero, but her father as well. Jim Gordon might not wear armor, but he was definitely a hero, and his daughter fit the profile as well. The idea that what she had done was nothing out of the ordinary might be modest, but it wasn’t realistic. A smile graced his face, the appearance of which would seem genuine to all but those who knew him very well, as she fled the elevator.

The tactics Barbara used to throw off those who wanted to see them together were annoying to him, though very effective. She left the elevator on a relatively empty floor and he allowed her to go, keeping himself hidden in the elevator car. After she had gone and the door had closed, he produced a key from his pocket that switched the car into emergency mode and cleared the memory from the panel. He instructed the car to go to the top floor, ignoring any calls it had along the way. Once there, he returned the car to normal operation and exited, it, taking the key with him.

As he walked through the halls of the storage on the top floor, he pulled a smart phone out of his coat pocket and hacked through a few levels of the schools security to find the location of all of the administrative terminals in the building. The nearest one that was two floors down. He made his way to the emergency stairs and pulled a thin wire from the lining of his coat. That it was actually a newer form of carbon fiber didn’t lesson its use as a pick, but it did make it undetectable as metal.

He got through the door in a matter of seconds, but that didn’t surprise him; the door was more intended as an inconvenience than any real security. It locked behind him as he entered the stair well. Two levels lower, he listened several seconds to ensure the area beyond was clear before exiting. It was a short walk to the office of the terminal in question. As luck would have it, it was a red-headed, attractive woman young enough to be a TA.

The young lady was busy entering data into the computer and barely noticed Bruce until he’d moved behind her, his hands going to her shoulders to begin a relaxing massage.

“Hmmmm, I’ll give you three days to stop that,” she groaned, relaxing as the strong hands worked the tension out of her neck.

“I’ll bet you say that to all the guys,” Bruce answered back in a smooth voice.

The woman put her hand on his and turned her head to see who he was. She nearly feel out of her chair when she recognizes who he was. He caught her and kept her from falling, though she wheeled until her back hit the wall. Only when she had that support behind her did she stop her flight.

“Mr. Wayne! I – I’m sorry . . . I . . . “

“No need to apologize. You looked like you could do with a little relaxation.”

Her head turned to the side as she tried to figure out if he was actually coming onto her or just playing a game. She decided that it didn’t really matter; either way, the man had a tendency for getting what he wanted, and she wasn’t sure that she didn’t want to give it to him, whatever it was.

“It’s been brought to my attention that the computer systems in here are a little behind the times. I thought maybe I’d take a look for myself, if you don’t mind. And if you’re not busy, perhaps we could have an early dinner? There’s a place I know.”

“Dinner? Um, I’m supposed to work . . .”

“Check with Dean Wolcott. I’m sure if he wouldn’t mind. While you’re doing that, would you mind if I took the old terminal here for a test drive?”

The girl stammered for a minute. She knew she was getting played, somehow, but he was Bruce Wayne. If he asked the President of the university to use his computer, the request would be granted without a second though. Who was she to say no to him? She indicated that she’d be back momentarily.

Bruce sat down at the computer and hacked in to a back door that had been installed by a grad student some time ago. It took him only a few minutes to find the information he wanted and make the changes he needed to support his plans. By the time she returned, he had backed out and was fumbling with the admissions page. He sighed and turned the computer off, then rose to meet his date.

“I presume all went well?”

“Very,” she answered demirely. “By the way, my name is –“

“Kimberly Freas,” Bruce interrupted. “I’m sorry," he said, but it was obvious that he wasn't. "You were logged in, so your profile was easy to get to, and I did want to know the name of my date.”

“Kim,” she answered slowly, not really sure what she was getting herself into, but the Dean knew who she was going to be out with, and she’d texted a few friends that Bruce Wayne was in her office. Not that they believed her, but if anything happened, there’d be a trail to follow. Anything bad, anyway.

“Kim it is. I’ll pick you up at your dorm in at five?”

“That would be fine, Mr. Wayne,” she answered, still not certain that she would actually dine with a billionaire. But, the time was approved off, with pay, so it was worth it either way.

“It’s Bruce,” he corrected as he walked out the door.

He headed out to the Bentley, navigating through the people he met without trying to avoid pictures. He’d learned long ago it was a useless endeavor. He got in the back seat of his chauffeured car and addressed his driver.

“I need a to make a written invitation and have it delivered to Miss Gordon’s residence,” he told Alfred, “and I’ll need a car for this evening and reservations. You’ll be picking up Miss Gordon at 8 o’clock sharp tomorrow morning.”

“Very good, Sir,” Alfred answered. “And you will be where in the morning?”

“Getting ready to receive my guest.”

Alfred looked skeptically at Bruce in the mirror, but let the notion go. If Master Bruce needed to be up in the morning, he would be. Most likely without having any sleep the night before. Such was the way of a double life.

Alfred stopped the Bentley at a printers shop and Bruce was in and out in minutes with unique invitation on parchment written in gold foil. The proceeded to Barbara’s dorm, and Bruce got out and slid the invitation under her door with “Ms. Gordon” being the only thing on outside of the envelope. Then the pair returned to the manor. Bruce prepared for his night on the town, one that would end around 11 pm, and Alfred made sure the invitations were in order.