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Batgirl Arrives	By : AdultBat Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 14779 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series nor any of the characters from it. No money has been or will be received by me for this story. This story is for adults and cannot be redistributed for the purposes of financial gain.

Chapter List
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“Okay, this is it,” and with that Barbara Gordon let out an exaggerated breath and stood up to shift all her weight to her right foot that was poised on the kick start of her new, custom designed black Ninja motorcycle. It roared with an excitement that complemented her nervousness. As she shifted into gear, the bike lurched forward synchronized to the falling false wall of her downtown loft. “Oh God, I hope you know what are you doing, Barbara” she mumbled to herself as she was sprinted up the alley and into the night. Batgirl had arrived.

The cool air swept refreshingly over her back and, for the first five minutes, was probably the only thing that kept her from fainting. After those tense, introductory first streets she reconciled with what she was doing--what she promised to commit herself to--and transformed her nervousness into inspired anticipation. After swinging out to the beltway and opening up the responsive throttle she began to feel the confidence building inside her. For good measure, she leaned into the bike, swung off the exit, and whipped around a few dark corners of historically troubled streets looking for some action. If something bad were brewing, she would find it.
Or it would find her. Perched at a red light she noticed a staggering bum come stumbling at an angle in her direction, simultaneously laughing and singing to himself. She glanced up at the light hoping it would change to green so she could speed away before he had a chance to get too close. No luck, the light remained red.
“What kinda crazy helmet is that?” he asked as if it were the most important question anyone could ever think of.
“Step away, old man,” Batgirl responded, “I don’t want you to get hit.”
“No, you did-it hear me,” as he leaned closer, twisting his head and looking into her masked face, “what kinda—I ain’t never seen a helmet like that before.”
Batgirl took her hand off the throttle to push his face away (hoping that his body would follow) and began, “Please move away I have important bizz—Oomph”. Her words were cut short as she felt two big arms reach around her waist from behind and meet at her solar plexus in a violent grasp. In a split moment the motion continued as she felt herself lifted off the seat of the bike and hurled backwards onto the street. She landed on unceremoniously on her butt but neatly rolled into a fighting position. Only there was no one to fight. The drunk quickly straddled himself on the bike and his accomplice hopped on behind. She could hear them laughing as they tore through the intersection.
“Shit!” she screamed out load. And, “this is not how it is supposed to start!” she screamed to herself. Furious but undaunted she reached down to the underside of her utility belt and pressed a button that instantly killed the engine of her bike. Batgirl theatrically brushed herself off and began to stride toward the two men who had stopped laughing and were now trying to restart the bike. “Gentlemen, I believe you two just committed a crime. I am going to have to place you under arrest.”
“What the fuck you talking about, bitch?” shouted the larger man who had just introduced Batgirl to gravity, “we ain’t going anywhere without our new bike and, if you know what’s good for you, you won’t come a step closer.”
“I’m afraid you are wrong there, scum. That is my motorcycle and you two are under arrest.”
Well, now she was wasting his time. He wanted to hurl one more abuse before crossing over and popping her one but, as he turned his head up, he noticed for the first time that this was no ordinary woman. Batgirl emerged from the darkness of the street and stepped into the straining light of the one lamp working on that street. Before him stood a woman poised with a purpose: legs astride, hands on hips, chest proudly outward, and with her chin pulled slightly into her neck but looking directly at him. “I am not going to repeat myself again,” she said with authority, “step away from the bike, get on your knees, and lace your fingers behind your neck.”
“The hell I will,” and with that he strode toward her. “Listen you high steppin’, spandex covered, cape wearing, masked covv--erred, glov--ved ho’— I don’t know who you are — actually, who the fuck are you?”
“I am Batgirl and you are going to jail”
“Batgirl? Shit, Cleatus, did you hear this? There’s a Batgirl now, too. Damn! This is rich. Sorry, girlie. This is too much. Go away before you get hurt.”
“Drop to the ground before I take out your kneecaps and make you get down”
“Listen, bitch, I don’t care what you call yourself, but Batgirl or not, no one threatens me and gets away with it.” He then lunged forward and attempted to slap her across the face. Batgirl easily bobbed out of reach without sacrificing her footing. She offered him another shot and when she effortlessly blocked that as well she wasted no time delivering a surgical kick to the side of his leg slightly above his knee and ripping apart his ligaments. He collapsed -- more in shock -- and was chest to the pavement and cuffed before the pain of his blown out knee exploded. “Cleatus, help me!” he yelled.
Immediately looking to the other perpetrator, Batgirl avoided his rush and downward swing of a two-foot pipe. The circled each other twice waiting for the other to make the first move. “You move pretty well for an old drunk,” Batgirl offered.
“Get ready woman, I am going to introduce you to pain,” and he swung the pipe again this time back and forth but still missing by a lot.
“Do you know how to use that as a weapon?” Batgirl taunted, “you’re not very good.”
“I know how to use this fine,” and raised his arm as he charged at her. Batgirl finished him quickly as well, blocking his blow by bracing his upper arm and punching him in the throat. As he lay on the ground coughing and gasping, she cuffed him as well and called the police.
When Gotham’s finest arrived they were a bit baffled by what they saw. Before them lay two larger men, handcuffed and in pain, with an outfitted woman standing over them. “Okay, what is this all about?” the first demanded.
“Officers, I am invoking a citizen’s arrest on these two men for grand theft and assault.”
“And who might you be, ma’am?”
“I am Batgirl.”
“Batgirl? Jeez, I didn’t know. I gotta start going to the shift briefings more often. Batgirl… Well, thanks for your help, Batgirl, we’ll take care of it from here.”
“It was a pleasure doing business with you officers. I am sure we shall meet again.”
“Yeah, no problem,” the officer said as he waved her off. He then walked over to his partner in the patrol car and said, “O’Shaunessy, you better call an ambulance for these two creeps. Batgirl fucked them up pretty good. Hey, did you know there was a Batgirl?”
“Is that who she was? All I noticed was the nice ass and the rack of tits she had.”

The rest of the night unfolded without great drama but Batgirl still considered it a success. Three more incidents, small crimes really, which she thwarted without much effort but with an increasing assuredness of where she belonged. After each apprehension she called the Gotham police and authoritatively turned over the perps. She was on her way to establishing a Mistress of the Night mystique. Some of the cops looked at her queerly some with lust but none questioned her place in the law enforcement dance. Barbara Gordon, the Commissioner’s daughter that no one took too seriously, was taking on street crime on her own terms as Batgirl – and her father’s force was accepting her.
What an unbelievable whirlwind of events that led to this moment. A little more than a year ago Barbara was an unassuming librarian toiling away in back rooms, loving the knowledge captured in books, but assigned to a woefully under-budgeted project designed to update the Gotham City Library computer cataloging. She excelled at the task as her years of high school and university shyness were solaced with endless hours behind books and at the computer screen. There were virtually no limits to what she could access through her computer. In fact, among the anonymous computer community to which she belonged, she enjoyed an enviable reputation for being the best hacker and the one to turn to when an answer was really needed. Instead of allowing those skills to be dulled by the mindless direction of her library supervisor, Barbara found creative ways to exploit the resources of the limited systems and plug into other resources not exactly allocated to the Library. Despite the modest output, everyone at the library was politely pleased and spoke of promoting her quickly to the stacks.
Life soon changed more profoundly for Barbara, however, when on a coffee break she decided to join the crowds and purchase a Powerball lottery ticket. Whether it was boredom or the coaxing of colleagues, it ultimately did not matter. She was the sole winner of a $202 million jackpot. She opted for the discounted cash value knowing that with her ability to acquire knowledge on any topic, she could manage the money more effectively than the State. Her first initiative with the money was to use it as bait to have her father retire. He would have nothing of it. Then the wave of leeches and scammers came swarming and she immediately realized they would win if she did not get away. So she invested her money in an interesting portfolio of her own design and quietly bought a small apartment building in downtown Gotham. She bought building mostly for storage and refuge but she would later find that the location would be perfect for the life she now assumed.
As dawn bellowed, Batgirl directed her bike back to the building, not exactly a Batcave but a safe haven for her new persona. Upon re-entering her apartment all Barbara could think of was a shower and immediately peeled off her gloves and boots as she entered the bathroom. She deserved the luxury of her multi-directional jet shower and furiously grappled with her costume to jump in. First, she unzipped her one piece in the back and pulled it forward slipping out of the sleeves and wiggling it down over her hips. The way that the stretch fabric tapered at her ankles almost caused her to lose her balance as struggled strip it off. Finally, she was left in her sports bra, thong panties, masked cowl, and cape. As she relieved herself of the underwear she caught a glimpse of herself in her mirror, naked except for the mysterious Bat adornments. She had to pause and face the mirror. She spread her legs to a shoulder width stance, placed her hands on her hips, and said, “Wait right there, mister.” She had always been uncomfortable with her nakedness but now the cut of her muscles and the firmness of her breasts looked good staring back at her. “Oh, if Daddy could see me now,” she laughed as she pulled the mask off her head and removed her red wig. She tossed them aside and headed for the awaiting pulsating massage.

A few hours later, the ring of her phone awakened Barbara. She cleared her throat and answered, “Hello?”
“Good morning, princess, how’s my little girl today?”
“Oh, hi, Daddy. What’s up?”
“I thought I would treat myself to a breakfast with my favorite gal, what do you say? Unless, of course, you have important millionaire things to do instead.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Daddy. You know I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you.” This was true. The demands of her father’s career often made him invisible at home when she was growing up. However, it was all she knew and instead of resenting his absence she wove it into the larger than life admiration she held for him. No one could touch his integrity, courage, or protection of her. “When can I expect you to drop by? 15, 20 minutes?”
“How about 15 or 20 seconds? I’m on the cell phone and letting myself in your front door as we speak.”
Barbara immediately sat up from her reclined position and surveyed her situation. She was naked with the sheets pulled up to her waist and her pert breasts hanging out and partially supported by her arm holding the phone. Worse, her Bat costume was scattered everywhere as the memory of her reckless stripping came back to her. Even the secret panel to her hidden room was open. She instantly started organizing her actions. “Sure, Daddy come on up. Unfortunately, the elevator is out again so you will have to take the stairs. Sorry.” Before he could reply, she hung up and whipped into action.
Her recall at retracing her steps was sharp but the random chaos of where things landed was less precise. “Focus on the big and noticeable things,” she thought. She gathered the gloves, boots, and costume in her arms and searched for the mask and wig. “Daddy’s been off the beat for some time but even he would notice that.” She found them, added them to the bundle in her arm and threw them into the secret room. She fumbled under her vanity for the hidden button that operated the sliding door. As it slid shut she heard her father’s key slide into the lock and begin to open the door. She grabbed a robe to cover herself and let out a “phew.” Unfortunately, it was premature. As Barbara saw her father open the door she noticed her utility belt was still out, not in plain view, but not hidden either. She immediately opened a drawer grabbed everything in it and dumped it over the belt just before her father turned to face her.
“Well, I see the maid has not arrived yet. What is the deal with your elevator? Why is it always out? Isn’t this one of the buildings you own?”
Deflecting the questions Barbara replied, “Daddy, in the future you have to give me more than half a minute to get ready. You are always my most important date and I should look my best.”
“Aw, you look fine. Just throw something on. We’re only going to the diner downstairs. Here this will do.” And with that he reached down into the pile of clothes and grabbed some sweat pants and a sweater. Barbara’s eyes bulged with nervousness. If she left to put these things on, he was likely to pick up the clothes and fold them. Yet, with no underwear on beneath the robe her father would be mortified to have her change in front of him.
“I’ll tell you what, Daddy. You go down and get us a booth and I’ll be there in five minutes tops. I promise.”
“Okay, pumpkin, but my watch has started. I am counting down already.” Barbara saw him to the door and vowed right then never to be put in this situation again. She also realized she should take notes each night so that she could learn from both her mistakes and successes. She quickly booted up her computer and made encrypted entries for the previous night’s work.

Breakfast was briefer than planned as her father’s phone kept ringing ensuring that the rest of their conversations were mostly interrupted or confined to sound bites. “It seems a few precincts have reported the appearance of a Batgirl in Gotham City,” he informed her.
“Batgirl?!” Barbara answered in mock surprise, “what do you think of that?”
“I don’t know, Barbara. O’Hara called Batman and he said he had no knowledge of her. We have to be careful about allowing too many vigilantes on the streets. It’s bad for business. Besides, how would we control them? How do I know if this woman’s intentions are good or evil?”
“I’m sure if her name is Batgirl her motives are purely altruistic and moral, Daddy.”
“We’ll see. If she wants me to accept her, she will have to march into my office and introduce herself to me, Chief O’Hara, and Batman and state her intentions. Otherwise, I will instruct my officers to arrest her as well when she brings the criminals to our doorsteps.”
“I think it sounds extreme but you are the Police Commissioner and I think you’re wonderful. By the way, to what do I really owe the pleasure of your company this morning?”
“Oh yeah, you know, honey, it’s the strangest thing. Remember how I used to always try and make your gymnastics competitions?” Remember, Barbara reflected, despite the demands of his job that kept him out of the house at other times he found a way to attend almost every single one. That support drove her to excel at the sport and set aside her otherwise shy demeanor. Unfortunately, her future in gymnastics was eventually betrayed by her body for, as it blossomed, it became more difficult to execute the intricate routines. Nevertheless, he would never fully know how much it meant to her and gave her a sense of validation.
“Of course, I remember, Daddy, why?”
“Well, this morning I woke up with a strange feeling that I just missed one of your important performances. What do you think of that?”
Rather than respond, Barbara gulped some ice water on the table and shrugged her shoulders.

That night, Batgirl set out again as a patroller of the streets and combatress of crime. The streets did not disappoint and she found ample opportunities to intercept the damage threatened by the violence lurking in the City. After a week, she conducted an assessment of her accomplishments. While she contributed to the apprehension of almost 30 criminals it did not always go smoothly and she learned many lessons along the way. The first was that while she liked the look, feel, and sexiness of her Lycra costume, it did not hold up well after repeated nights of battle. Numerous nicks and tears made for downtime mending and two trashed costumes. Second, she needed to be more aware of the surroundings her encounters brought her to and careful in her fighting. In one skirmish she chased a perp into an alley focused on his capture. She thought she had him easily when the alley abruptly ended at a wall. She stopped her running pursuit and immediately assumed her hands on hips stance. She should have sensed something was amiss because as she peered down at him, he looked nervous but not nervous enough. However, before she could put that observation into thought she was grabbed from behind by his accomplice. The surprise clutch of the second thug could have left her outnumbered and vulnerable to the now advancing partner but her captor was content to try and hold Batgirl by her breasts as his hands cupped and squeezed them.
“Whoo hoo, get a load of these!” he entreated his partner as lifted Batgirl off her feet by pulling her against him with her back to his chest. He tried to wave her back and forth to so her legs would swing freely but he began to lose his grip against the slick Lycra material. When Batgirl’s feet hit the ground she wasted no time. She kicked back and down into his instep which immediately caused him to let go and reach for his ankle. She finished him with an elbow to the bridge of his nose breaking it and leaving him senseless. Her original suspect that led her into the alley froze not sure whether to run again or fight. Before he could decide, Batgirl had his hands secured around his back.
In another battle, she was up against someone who had obviously spent some time in the ring. He took a shot that grazed her but served as a wake up call to potential danger. Feeling confident, he challenged her with taunts, springy feet, and flashes of a jab. After a few flick of his fists Batgirl knew how to take him on. He was big so she knew to avoid being hit again figuring that if he caught her right he could knock her out. Instead, she used her superior speed to bob and weave the jabs and bet that he would tire quickly. Frustrated by his lack of ability to connect he took a wild left hook that Batgirl easily ducked under. She began to pop up unaware that he immediately followed his left with an equally frantic right. She aborted her rise and dipped down again in time to avoid the blow but, in his wildness, he caught the back of her red hair. The force and the motion ripped the cowl off Batgirl’s head. He stood there for a second dumbfounded as to what he discovered in his hand – a hooded mask and a red wig – and, just as he looked up to figure out what was going on, all he saw was a white flash. In one motion Batgirl came up and swung her leg in a kick landing squarely on his jaw. In a heap he crumbled unconscious and out for the long count. Batgirl leaned over and retrieved her accessories from his grip, ran her hand through her short black hair, and placed them back on her head.
“This is a little more than I bargained for but hell, it’s fun,” she said to the alley cats as she walked away.
Batgirl modified her procedure after the breakfast with her father opting to call the police and steal away to the shadows to avoid a run-in with the officers until she could figure out what to do. “This is crazy,” she thought as she watched the officers arrive after one particular collar. “Here I am helping them on the job but I have to conceal myself on a rooftop and watch them complete the bust because Daddy doesn’t know if my intentions are good.”

The next few weeks proved to be even more successful for Barbara as Batgirl. Her arrests increased as she figured out ways to be more efficient and proactive. She made a scientific exercise of where to be and at what times. It was relatively simple. All the information about reported crimes resided in the database at the Central Gotham precinct. The steps necessary to hack into the database were almost comically easy. So easy that, while in there, she added a few anonymous protective steps to prevent others from duplicating her access.
The thrill of stalking and the burst into action kept the experience alive and something to look forward to each night she went out. While she wished to go out every night she realized she had other commitments from the various social events and charities her new wealth demanded. She was slowly emerging from her shyness and becoming a darling to many of Gotham’s elite. She used her wealth and position as the Commissioner’s daughter to further her causes (the Gotham Library and Crime Victims). For fun, she also chaired the Gotham Women’s Club, which she was transforming from a stoggy sister club of the Gotham Men’s Club, to a vibrant and independent forum for up and coming females.
The Chairman of the GMC, Bruce Wayne, was less than enthusiastic at this turn of events but he was powerless to do anything to stop it. Bruce was a bit of an enigma to Barbara. For years, he had been a family friend and frequent guest at the Gordon’s. As a teenager, her crush on him was only surpassed by her crush on Batman. A year ago, she even caught him eyeing her in his notorious playboy way. However, since she won the lottery he had become standoffish. Sure, he continued to be pals with her father but he did worse than avoid her, he ignored her with distant formal politeness. Maybe she was partly to blame. Soon after she received her winnings, Waynetech plunged in value, as the conglomerate did not meet its quarterly projections. Believing in the value of the company, she invested a significant share of her wealth in its stock. When the stock rebounded strongly, her investment - combined with others in her portfolio - had more than doubled in value. She was now a holder of almost two-percent of Waynetech stock, enough that many thought she should serve on its Board. The honor mysteriously never materialized.
Heading home one night after a gala Barbara ran into her father. “Hey Daddy, long time no see. If I knew that breakfast would be our last time together, I would have ordered more food.”
“I know honey, I’m sorry. It’s just that, once again, it has been so busy at work with these Batgirls confusing things.”
“Batgirls, Daddy? I did not know there was more than one.”
“Well, the evidence doesn’t suggest that there are more than one but at the rate these criminals are being brought down we just feel there has to be more than one at work. My men cannot match the productivity. Even Batman didn’t arrest that many so early in his crime fighting.”
“Daddy, I cannot believe what I am hearing. You continue to be so sexist. Maybe Batgirl, a woman, has just figured out a better way to handle the crime. Besides, Batman only goes after the headline criminals and there’s a lot fewer of them.”
“Yeah, you’re right I guess. I just wish I knew who she was.”

The next night Batgirl was on the hunt again. Each night she let her instincts tell her whether she to cruise the streets on her bike or park it and roam the rooftops. Each method served a purpose. She needed to know her the response of her bike intimately to excel on high-speed chases while the rooftops allowed her to obtain a feel for the neighborhoods, exercise, and keep her gymnastic ability sharp. So far, her successes seemed to prove her instincts were on target. Now, her fourth week in action was about to teach her new lessons and introduce her to the public spotlight.
The night started slowly. Were the streets really this quiet or was the impact of her work taking effect? “I can’t believe Daddy thinks I might be a criminal,” she let her mind wander, “or worse, he thinks that because I am besting Batman there must be more of us. I don’t want to show up Batman, I just want him to see I am a worthy partner in crimefighting.”
Batgirl decided to park her bike and walk on the streets. Around the corner was a day lot that should keep her bike off the street and out of sight. She pulled in and cut the engine. As she began to walk back to the street she thought she heard a whimper in the back corner of t he lot. She saw some silhouettes but, with the distance, could not make out what they were doing. She reached to her utility belt and pulled out a pair of infrared high-powered glasses. What came into view was the image of a man on top of a woman and slapping her as he pumped his pelvis into her. Batgirl yelled for him to stop and immediately raced to the scene. “Stop!” He stood up and looked for a way to escape. When he saw it he pulled his pants to his waist and took off 15 yards before Batgirl arrived. Batgirl ran to the girl, looked at her torn clothes and exposed body. The first thought into her mind was “she looks helpless and dirty” but and crouched down saying, “You are going to be alright.” Then she tenderly placed the palm of her gloved hand on the woman’s cheek and said, “I have to get him but I will be back. I promise. Please wait here.” Without waiting for a response she took off after him.
In a fury, she gusted after him – easily bounding fences – and even the stray dogs knew better than to bark at her. She caught up with him in an adjacent lot. As she loomed, he realized further flight was useless and gave up. “Okay, okay I can’t run any more, you have me,” he gasped. Batgirl stopped on a dime but still percolating with rage she screamed,
“On your knees, scum!”
“Yeah, yeah I will. I just need to catch me breath,” as he bent over and placed his hands on his thighs.
“You can rest in jail,” and with that Batgirl swung her leg behind his knee forcing him to the ground. The speed and force showed the intent of her action was serious. She was not wasting a moment to mess around. Sensing that this woman meant business and fearing for his safety, the rapist tried to flee again. Batgirl caught him within 10 yards. She grabbed him by the collar with her left hand and yanked him back. As his butt hit the littered pavement she delivered a sharp blow to his face opening a sizable gash. She immediately hit him again. And again. “This bastard will pay,” she groused to herself as she kicked him in the ribs and he yelped in pain. “Shut up!” and she hit him in the face again. She noticed his blood on her gloves and decided to kick him. He tried to cover but his movement just made his leg absorb the punishment of the blow.
“Please,” he sobbed, “I’m sorry, I give up, please don’t hit me again.”
“I’m sure you ignored that girl back there when she said the same,” and Batgirl recoiled to hit him again. She sized up as to where she would strike. Instead, she just looked at him and felt pathetic for him and herself. She lowered her fist, released him from her grip and turned back to check on the victim left behind. As she walked away she stopped, turned to him and asked, “what are you going to do now?”
“Call the police and turn myself in, I promise. It’s safer in jail than on the streets with you.”
“Do you need a quarter?” as she reached for her utility belt.
“No I have a cell phone,” and he reached into his pocket and dialed. She turned to walk away. She could hear him describing the location and asking them to send an ambulance for the girl.
“Good boy,”she thought. Batgirl jogged back to the parking lot where she left the woman and her bike. The victim was gathering herself together and it looked like she was preparing to leave. “Whoa, ma’am, where are you going? An ambulance is on its way and I am sure the police will want to take a statement.”
“I don’t want to make no statement,” the woman sobbed, “I want to go home.”
“You can and will go home,” Batgirl consoled, “but first we have to get you some medical attention.” For added comfort Batgirl put her arm around her and covered her with her cape for warmth.
“Is Armando coming back?” she inquired.
“If Armando is the creep who assaulted you, no, he will not be bothering you again. I have given him a lasting lesson on the administration of justice. He knows never to even speak to you again. But, you must file charges to make sure he goes to jail. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes, I guess so.” After a prolonged pause she looked up and asked, “Who are you?”
“I am Batgirl and I am here to keep the streets safe for people like yourself. What’s your name?”
“Tina.”
“Tina, would you like me to wait with you until the ambulance arrives?”
“No,” sounding a bit stronger, “I’m going to call my sister.”
“Alright then, let me walk you to the phone.”

When Tina’s sister arrived shortly afterwards, Batgirl returned to her bike and took off. She started to head to the next hot point on her crime matrix but she only made it two blocks before her confused mind forced her to pull over, lean the bike against an abandoned building, and run inside. Batgirl pierced several rooms running without aim until finally she stopped, sat down on a crate, buried her face into her bloodied gloves and cried. Seeing Tina lying on the ground and violated brought back thoughts, long ago repressed, that tormented Barbara Gordon all throughout her teenage years. When she was 11, members of an organized crime family kidnapped her mother. The family ordered the act as a display of their force against veteran police commander, Jim Gordon, and his efforts to eradicate organized crime in Gotham City. It was not really a kidnapping because there never was a ransom. A week later Barbara’s mother was found beaten and repeatedly raped. Jim Gordon sheltered his daughter from most of the details by sending her off to stay with distant relatives while he, with the public’s outraged support, waged retaliation against the families that saw their ranks decimated. His success thrust him into the Commissioner’s position at the then unheard of age of 43. His popularity had kept him in the office through different administrations and it was generally acknowledged that he would retire as Commissioner when he wanted.
The loss of her mother was a silent trial for Barbara. She kept a brave face for her father but there were many nights when all she needed was the gentle reassurance of a caring and understanding woman. At those times she resented her mother for not being there and criticized her for not being strong enough to fight back and save herself. She vowed never to let that happen to herself. Her father’s utter dedication to his calling made it impossible for him to fill the void. He was damaged, too. The loss and resulting guilt made him very protective of Barbara (so much so that up until college, Barbara had a uniformed officer outside her home every night) and sheltered from parental intimacy as well. He kept their conversations formal and resisted opening up to her for fear of losing himself in a raging river of grief. Their mutual love still made for cherished company when they were together but most things went unsaid, just understood.
By the time she finally composed herself, she knew she looked a wreck and would be unable to exude the confidence she needed to do her job. She decided to call it a night and head back home. She undressed quietly and, for the first time in a while, retired early sleeping soundly.

Barbara woke refreshed and whizzed through her day and the many activities for the library. She was anxious to return to the streets and renew her cause for justice. The night offered much promise. Statistically, it was a high crime night with several options of neighborhoods to choose. She chose a neighborhood that she had not patrolled yet thinking that with her vigor she would do most of the night on foot. Batgirl parked her bike under some scaffolding and covered it with a nearby tarp. She then quickly scaled the scaffolding and was on top of the building in no time. She noticed a good number of police cars on the street and thought, “Maybe this neighborhood doesn’t need my help tonight. Maybe I’ll move over to the other side of town.” Just then, the fireworks started. An alarm sounded and a shot was heard. Batgirl ran to the other side of the roof and saw an all night bodega with a man screaming at someone running away. Immediately, a seeming division of police cars was on hand to respond. Batgirl figured that situation was under control and moved back to her original vantage point on the other side. She was about to bound onto another rooftop when she saw a man crawling out of a window onto a fire escape with a computer CPU under his arm. “This should be fun and easy,” Batgirl thought. She straddled the roof edge and slid down a drainpipe using her arches for bracing. The poor lout struggled to make it down the fire escape and when he finally made the final jump down he arose to have Batgirl towering over him. “May I help you?” she inquired.
“Oh well, I was just going to – I mean, a friend had borrowed my computer and I needed it back and…well, I…”
“Why don’t you work on a good version of the story and tell it to the police.”
“Yes, maybe you are right,” and he placed the computer on the ground. The thief looked both ways as to flee, then decided against it, then decided against not fleeing, and took off. Batgirl immediately reflexed and followed. He was fast and it took all Batgirl had to keep him in her view. Not only did he motor but he cut angles sharply and seemed to know where to run to avoid capture. She held her own in pursuit and when an alley wall finally betrayed his escape, she nabbed him.
“This isn’t a bad start,” she thought as she cuffed him and took deep breaths to regain her composure.
Suddenly, from behind she heard the voice of a woman shout “Freeze!”
Batgirl spun around to see a Hispanic officer about 5’5”, stocky, and with her gun drawn. “It’s okay officer, I have it under control. He is all yours.”
“I said freeze,” she continued to yell, “I mean you.”
Batgirl then realized that the barrel of the gun was pointed at her. She peered to the officer’s badge and said, “Officer Velazquez, I think you might be misunderstanding the situation. This man just stole a computer and I apprehended him. The unit is right back on—“
“Shut up! Put your hands in the air and don’t move.”
“This is ludicrous,” but she did as she was instructed and raised her hands. “Officer, why are you making me do this? I am on your side.”
“I said shut up. Turn around and place your hands up against the wall,” as the officer moved cautiously to Batgirl’s left. Batgirl had seen the routine enough to know what to do. As she stood with her back to the officer, she turned to see Velazquez undoing the cuffs Batgirl had placed on the perp. She put the Batcuffs on her belt and said to the thief, “Go, get out of here.” He needed no further incentive and disappeared.
“Hey, what are you doing? I caught him red handed.” Batgirl was flabbergasted. “Officer, could you please tell me why on earth you have me up on the wall and the criminal is waltzing back to his stolen goods. He’s the guilty one.”
“Oh I don’t know about that,” Velazquez began, “I have seen you assault and illegally imprison a man already. Maybe you are even carrying. Don’t move. I am going to search you. I have my gun pointed at your head.” With her free left hand the officer proceeded to reach up to Batgirl’s right forearm, and frisk down the fabric covering Batgirl’s arm until her shoulder. Then she went up to her other forearm and slid down that, too, but this time instead of stopping at the shoulder, her hand moved to the edge of Batgirl’s lats and the hand found its way to Batgirl’s breast. Velazquez gently squeezed and patted it then reached further under Batgirl to squeeze the other breast, too.
“Hey what is this,” Batgirl protested.
“I said be quiet or I will add resisting arrest as well.” Her hand moved back to Batgirl’s left bosom and caressed it again. Eventually, the officer moved down and cupped Batgirl’s buttocks and gave them a playful spank. She kicked Batgirl’s feet wider and awkwardly took the palm of her hand starting at the top of Batgirl’s butt and glided it to the place of her womanhood. She moved her full hand firmly back and forth over the material covering Batgirl’s vagina. Batgirl felt herself to begin to a slightly tingle. It had been so long since she felt someone else’s caress that, even unwelcomed, it felt good. Batgirl closed her eyes and gently let her head rest on the wall. “Oh you like that, huh? Well, we have more tools for a contentious crime fighter like yourself.” Velazquez then took her night stick and moved it astonishingly right to the place where Batgirl’s labia would welcome visitors. The stick probed the insides of her genitals with the only material of the costume preventing full penetration. Enjoying the sight of her command over the masked crusader, Velazquez moved the stick forward to press directly on Batgirl’s clitoris. Batgirl let out a faint moan and contemplated giving in to the pleasure when the dampness of her material against her vagina gave her a flash of sobriety that cleared her mind. She shook her head, thought, “I must gain control back”, spun around and said,
“I think you have searched me enough, officer.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Batgirl. That is what you are calling yourself, isn’t it. You see, we have been hearing about you in our briefings but you are so quick and so efficient that by the time we arrive you have already left. Now it’s my job to bring you in so we know whom we are against. I think I’ll answer that question for myself, right now.” She then leaned into Batgirl and supporting the gun pointed at the Caped Crusader’s face with her forearm on Batgirl’s left breast. With her free hand, she then reached for the bottom of Batgirl’s mask and began to peel it up.
Thousands of thoughts criss-crossed through Batgirl’s mind as she tried to process the implications of the situation. Should she let the officer have her way? She was well known in police circles. Would Velazquez recognize her? If she did, would she turn her over to the Commissioner? What would Daddy say? How could she stop her? She had a gun. All her life she had been trained to obey the law and the people who were sworn to protect it but…– Bam! – with a quick thrust of her neck forward, Batgirl headbutted the cop in the forehead causing Velazquez to let go of the mask, drop her gun, and fall backwards. Batgirl stood over her and said, “Sorry for the abrupt departure officer, but I must be going.” She then kicked the gun away and stepped over the stunned body as she made her way out of the alley and back to her bike. Choosing the electronic ignition, she turned the throttle and headed straight home to sort out her next move.
Back in her apartment Barbara Gordon – still in costume – paced back and forth. “What have I done?” “What was I thinking?” “Maybe I should just end this thing.” “No, what I am doing helps people and saves lives.” “Why was her violation of my body such a turn-on?” “Maybe Velazquez will be too embarrassed to report it.” “How do I make this night go away?”
The next morning Barbara woke up and flicked on the TV. Normally, she did not watch too much TV but after a fitful sleep she did not want to think. The news brought her right back into the morass. To her horror she watched and listened as the reporter lead the audience through the scene. “Police say it was in this alley off of Jefferson and Third that a masked woman, calling herself Batgirl, jumped out of the shadows and attacked Officer Velazquez. Officer Velazquez had just apprehended a burglar after a brief chase. Police report that the burglar escaped during the attack. Officer Velazquez is in Mercy hospital this morning with a slight concussion and doctors indicate that her she should recover in full.
Police are asking your help in reporting Batgirl sightings. Please note that they consider her dangerous. Please call the hotline on the screen if she is spotted in you neighborhood. Back to you, Jane.”
The newspapers joined forces in blowing this story up beyond any reasonable proportions. Batgirl this and Batgirl that. Various renditions of her costume by artists littered the pages. Crimes committed years ago were now being pinned on her. Barbara felt helpless. Her dream of following her father in the pursuit of justice and doing it in the manner of Batman was crumbling. She was lost and did not know where to turn.
Just then her phone rang. She hoped it was her father. “Hello?”
“Hi, Babs, it’s Xandra.” Alexandra Wentworth was one of the blue bloods whose family had been part of the Gotham Woman’s Club since its inception. At first she fought Barbara’s membership and chairmanship but, after seeing the results and having fun, she decided that they should be best friends. Barbara humored her but always kept a polite distance. “Sorry to call so early in the morning but I wanted to catch you before you started your busy day. Busy. Busy. Busy.”
“Hello Alex, what can I do for you?” Barbara asked in a mostly monotone voice.
“Well Babs, in case you did not know, for years we have been having a luncheon where we honor Gotham’s most eligible bachelor.” She always sounded too happy with the most mundane information.
“No I wasn’t aware of that. Can we talk about this later?”
“I wish -- but you are going to thank me, thank me, thank me when you hear what I have to say. For like a thousand years the perennial winner was that boring Bruce Wayne,” by the way she said Bruce’s name Barbara immediately knew he had slept with her at some point in her life, “so two or three years ago someone came up with the scrumptious idea of awarding it to Batman. I mean, who better, right Babs? Anyway, he always politely declined sighting some crime thing or another. Well, this year he was our choice again and because of the work you have done with the club and the focus on criminal rehabilitation, he has decided to accept our award this year and attend our luncheon! Isn’t this the most absolutely best news?”
“Yes, Alexandra it is fantastic,” Barbara began, “but why do I need to know this now?”
“Because, as Chairwoman you get to present him with the award.”
That was it? This girl needed more of a life. Nevertheless, she maintained her politeness and said, “Let me assure you I will be most honored to represent us with Batman,” and slightly raising her voice she asked, “when is this luncheon again?”
“In about two months. What-are-you-going-to-wear?”
“I guess I will have to think about it, Alexandra. Anyway I must go. Thank you for the news and I will see you at the club soon.” She hung up before she could be roped into another topic. As she set down the phone she began to think about Batman and being that close to him. He was a bit special. She smiled and thought, “maybe things aren’t so bad in my life after all.”
After showering and dressing, Barbara made a point of stopping by her father’s office. She just needed to see him and derive some reassurance. The first person she encountered only made the situation seem more bleak.
“Good morning, Miss Gordon, paying a visit to your father?”
“Why yes, Chief O’Hara, do you know if he is in?”
“The Commissioner is in there all right but he is up to his neck in problems with this Batgirl running around. She is a devil of a problem and the City will not tolerate her, I tell you me and my men will not sleep until we catch her.”
His Irish brogue became so pronounced when he was excited that it almost sounded fake. “Yes, Chief, I heard you say words to that effect this morning on the news.” Those exact words actually. The man could not work without a script.
“You saw me, did you?” O’Hara asked her with a self-amortization.
“Of course, Chief, and you looked quite handsome. I’m just going to pop in to Daddy’s office for a second. I will see you soon.” She smiled small but he returned a large grin and a nod. Barbara then turned and entered her father’s office after a gentle knock.
“Daddy, I did not see your secretary outside, is it okay to stop in?”
Her father looked up from his desk and took off his bi-focals with a surprised look that eased into a smile. “Of course you can come in, Pumpkin, what can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to say hi but if you are busy with this ‘Batgirl’ thing, I can come back later.”
“No, nonsense. If Batgirl was the only problem this City had we would be in pretty good shape. I think what we all need is a little perspective.”
“But I just saw Chief O’Hara, Daddy, and it sounded like he was making her public enemy number one.”
“Chief O’Hara is a good man, Barbara, but he can exaggerate a bit. He should have checked with me before he made those comments on TV but, it is done, and I will not make him retract them. I would rather he focus on why this Batgirl is better at fighting these criminals than his men…and women.” Commissioner Gordon would never publicly question his Chief of Police. Years ago, when the crime syndicate cleverly planted scandalous stories and mock evidence incriminating the Commissioner, O’Hara stood by him and took a lot of heat from his men. After he was eventually exonerated, the Commissioner knew he had to reward O’Hara’s loyalty with his own. It meant having to cover for him every now and when his outrageous comments were caught on TV but he knew, no matter what, the man was honest and incorruptible.
“I don’t get it, Daddy, is Batgirl considered bad or not?”
“Everything leading up to last night indicated that she was on the straight and narrow,” the Commissioner began, “then this incident last night happens. I did not make sense. And, between us, Officer Velazquez’s story has many holes in it. She has given different officers different versions but she has not filed her official report yet. When she does we will scrutinize it.”
“So what are you going to do in the mean time with her?” Barbara asked, pumping for more information.
“If she is out there, we will bring her in for questioning if for nothing else. I would feel a heck of a lot more ease with her if she would just properly meet with me and lay her agenda out on the table. But until she does that, the APB stands.”
That was just like her father, having to meet people face to face. He was old school (despite her wizardry with computers he had never even turned one on) but he had success with that formula and did not see a reason to change. Anyway, that was the second time she heard her father mentioning the need to meet Batgirl in person. Barbara knew what she had to do.

Instead of arranging the meeting right away, Barbara decided to wait a few days to let the story cool. She devoted her time to the Library, a love and source of peace for her. The news actually swelled the next day after O’Hara made some more comments to the press but then the pendulum of opinion began to swing. On the fourth day, the rape victim publicly spoke out on how Batgirl saved her life and how committed she was to helping people not hurting them. Then others aided by Batgirl’s efforts came forth. Now the press began to transform the myth of Batgirl into a folk hero and champion of the regular people. The police line and public sentiment began to clash. Barbara realized it was time to make her peace with the Gotham Police. She figured she would call the Commissioner and arrange a meeting.
Her first attempt alerted her to her thorny predicament. From a pay phone she dialed his private number knowing he would pick that up himself. As soon as he picked up she said, ‘Commissioner Gordon?’ and he immediately responded with, ‘Yes Barbara what is it?’ She made up some inane reason for calling and went back to the drawing board. On the phone he knew her too well. She needed a diversion. Her first contact had to be in person. As much as she hated the idea, she had to corner him or make him feel uncomfortable in order to distract him from her voice. She would do it at his home, an old brownstone in the Village. It made sense. He would be alone and, if she got into trouble, she knew the neighborhood and a thousand ways to disappear around there.
That evening Barbara would don her Batgirl costume again. She returned from the library and stripped down. She looked at herself in the mirror. She exercised like a maniac the past week trying to keep her mind off of the streets. Although her body looked firm and her muscles toned, she felt rusty. She struck her hands on hips pose and pushed her knuckles into her hips. It caused her back to flex in a v-shape and her breasts to inch closer together as her chest muscles pushed them into place. Looking down she noticed her pubic hair had grown out a bit. She would trim it in the shower.
She ran the shower hot. Barbara was careful to remove any trace of scent that could identify her once in costume. Toweling off, she slipped on thong briefs that neatly covered her patch of pubic hair and a seamless sports bra. The undergarments were not necessary due to the supporting construction of her outfit but tonight she preferred the feel of it against her. She assembled herself in her new kevlar reinforced costume and checked herself in the mirror again. “Not bad, if I say so myself.”
Batgirl then headed for the secret passageway and thundered up her bike. Although the building ostensibly looked fully occupied in fact, Barbara was the only resident. When she bought it a few tenants remained but without the promise of renovation, they moved out over the course of her year long sabbatical. She did not need the rental income and their absence gave her the privacy she wanted and now, as Batgirl, needed. To avoid suspicion and the scavengerous pack of squatters and apartment seekers she had the rooms modified to appear occupied. It kept the building safe and, in its own way, anonymous. Roaring out of the alley, she headed for her old neighborhood to stake out, of all people, her father. She secured a spot near the park that would hide her and allow her unencumbered access to intercept the Commissioner.
He was late but that did not surprise or faze her. She saw old neighbors go by going about their lives. Her eyes followed old Mrs. Lapinsky as she walked her dog. At the corner of the street some silhouette bumped her and grabbed her bag. Mrs. Lapinsky screamed and her little dog barked but it was of no use. He was off and headed to the park—headed right for Batgirl. She could not believe that he was literally heading for the bushes where she was crouched. As he arrived she sprang up and tackled him into the dirt as they rolled together in a fighting embrace. He was not startled and got in the first shot hitting Batgirl squarely in the throat. Although gagging she flipped him over her head as she pulled him by his lapels into her and, in a backwards somersault used her leg to push him up and over. His airborne excursion ended when he landed on his back with a thud. Stunned, he temporarily could not move. Batgirl wanted to cuff him but thought now might not be the time.
“You are lucky, punk. Tonight you are getting a freebie. Just know, however, that I am in all neighborhoods and if I see you again there might be interest to pay on your freedom. Now get out of here.”
He scurried off. Batgirl picked up the purse and headed over to Mrs. Lapinsky. She tried to say it was okay and here is your purse, but the shot to her throat left her speechless. Instead, she just handed her the purse back.
“Thank you,” she said uneasily. She looked at the costume carefully. “Are you Batgirl?”
“I am”, Batgirl managed to say hoarsely.
“Well it is an honor and I think you are lovely. My name is Ida Lapinsky and if those fascist police give you anymore trouble I will gladly stick up for you. You know the Commissioner himself, a lovely man, lives on this street himself. You would think he would have men stationed here. This City has changed.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence. I must go.” The last words were barely audible. Barbara needed to take care of her condition if she wanted to speak to her father, the Commissioner. She needed to ice it down but instead of drawing attention to herself by going to a bodega, she decided to take advantage of one of the many ways she knew how to break into her old house. This way she would meet the Commissioner without distractions.
She was still in the kitchen with a few ice cubes melting against her throat when she heard him put the keys in the door and enter. She listened for a second to make sure he was alone. She dried her throat with a dish towel and announced herself, “Commissioner Gordon, how good to see you.” Her voice was so warped even she could not recognize it.
He immediately went to his holster to draw his gun. Sadly, his instincts did not match his practice. He had not regularly carried a pistol in over ten years. “Who are you? Do you know who I am?”
Batgirl stepped out of the shadows but avoided the bright light. “Commissioner, I think it is obvious who I am. I want to negotiate a truce between myself and your force.”
“How did you get in here? You know, young lady, breaking into my house is not a way to get on my good side.”
“Commissioner, I assure you I inflicted no damage to your home in entering. Unfortunately, circumstances made sitting on your doorstep a bit of a non-option. My intention of meeting you like this is to assure you of my good intentions. How would you have handled it differently?”
She was right, he thought. When cornered, turn the tables anyway possible. He would have done the same in her circumstances. Go after the problem at its source, directly. “Alright Batgirl, this is what we will do. Tomorrow at four o’clock I want you in my office to meet with Chief O’Hara and myself. Will you be there?”
“Four o’clock is fine but Commissioner, I want your word that upon my entrance you will not have any traps or officers waiting to arrest me. It will just be the Chief and yourself.”
“I give you my assurance that you will not be arrested but I don’t know you. How can I be assured of the Chief’s and my safety then?” he countered.
“Why don’t you invite Batman as well? I am sure he is capable of protecting the entire police plaza, if necessary. Is that satisfactory”
“Very well then, I give you my word no shenanigans. We will all clear the air.”
“There is one more thing, Commissioner, after ‘clearing the air’ as you say I will expect to be fully deputized like Batman to avoid these problems in the future.”
“That’s a lot to ask for young lady. I cannot be awarding policing licenses to any person who requests one.”
“The name is Batgirl, Commissioner, not young lady. I do not expect you to deputize everyone. Just the few who deserve it and I am one of the few. Now if you will excuse me I must go. I think the front door should do just fine. Till tomorrow, Commissioner.” She moved to leave turning her back to him as she passed by. Out the door, she let out a big breath of air.
“There is something about her style I like,” Gordon thought to himself seconds after the door closed.
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Batgirl Arrives