Earth-349:
Batwoman
by Anton
Psychopoulos, Ph.D.
Disclaimer
#1 This story is set in a
hypothetical parallel world within the pre-Crisis DC Universe, based on a
story in Superman #349, but not limited by that story or any
other.
Disclaimer
#2 Some characters appearing
in this story are based on copyrighted characters owned by DC Comics, Inc.,
Marvel Comics and others. Their
use here is not intended to infringe or disparage those
copyrights.
Disclaimer
#3 This story is not recommended
for persons under 18 or the easily offended.
The guy in the Gotham Knights T-shirt stepped over his unconscious
buddy with hardly a hesitation. He
hefted his billy club and grinned at Robin.
"I'll let you in on a little secret,
kid. I'm the one who did
Batbitch. And I'm gonna do to
Batbitch Boy what I did to her, and I don't mean just the part where I broke
her knees."
The Boy Wonder grinned back, showing considerably more
teeth.
"Oh, you're gonna do what you did when you met Batwoman, are
you? I hope you're wearing rubber
pants this time."
The guy's grin just got wider, and he tightened his grip on his
club. He took a step forward,
there was a flash of yellow, and he was clutching at his stinging, empty
hand. He looked up in time to
see the boy coming at him, a swirl of bright colors in midair, and then he
was on the floor, his body immobilized by pain, the boy's booted feet pressing
the last air from his lungs.
Robin reached up and snatched the spinning club from the
air. He leaned down and prodded
the thug between the buttocks with his own weapon.
"Wanna tell me again what you were going to do to
me?"
"Aw, man, aw, maaan!"
Robin bound the man's wrists and ankles with green zip ties, tucked
the club down the back of his pants, retrieved his throwing disk from a corner
and left the building, making sure to trip the alarm on his way
out.
As he stepped into the alley, he froze, then smiled and opened his
mouth to speak as he recognized the silhouette looming above
him.
A black-gloved hand shot out a warning finger, then pointed
upward. Robin nodded and watched
the cloaked figure of Batwoman climb the building's fire
escape. He followed, wincing
as he noted that her ascent was nearly silent, and his was
not.
He reached the roof in time to see Batwoman crossing to an adjoining
building. He caught up with
her two blocks away, on the roof of the tallest building in the
neighborhood. She was waiting
in silence while he crossed the tar beach quietly, but puffing with
exertion.
"Mask," she hissed, the first word he'd heard from
her.
Robin obeyed, untying the thong which held his green domino in
place.
"My name is Dick --"
"Gordon, I know. Son
of Police Commissioner Gordon, brother of Barbara Gordon alias
Batgirl."
"Um, yes."
After a moment's pause, Batwoman pushed her long-eared cowl up and
off her face.
Dick took in the woman's tight mouth and watchful blue
eyes. With her face set with
such grim intensity, her hair matted and sweaty, without makeup or earrings,
it was difficult to recognize her as
"Roberta Wayne? You were
my number two choice for Batwoman, after Kathleen Kane."
Something happened to the thin line of Batwoman's
mouth.
"Second out of how many?"
"Five. Barbara had seven
candidates. You were her
first."
The something turned into a smile for a fraction of a
second.
"Listen, Batwoman -- Ms. Wayne -- I'm so glad to meet you, so glad
to know that you're . . . ."
"Not dead?"
"Or crippled, or captive. I
hope you're going to let everyone know you're
back. A lot of people in Gotham
really admire you."
"Yes, I know. I've been watching developments over the last
year. It's been very flattering
to see just how many people have been pinch hitting for me: you, your sister,
Anarky, Nightwing, the Creeper."
Dick winced inwardly at being classed with the other
vigilantes. He considered some
of them to be little better than criminals
themselves. He said nothing,
deferring to Batwoman's judgment.
"But now that you're back," he forced himself to
begin.
"You're afraid I'll tell you to cut it out."
This time Dick winced visibly, but Batwoman shook her
head.
"Not exactly. What I want you to do is stop acting on your
own."
She pulled a sliver of blackness from a pouch in her utility
belt. It unfolded silently into
a scalloped bat-shape. She tossed
it with a seemingly negligent throw.
It circled around them and she snatched it from the air without
looking.
"I have equipment you could never afford on lunch money or whatever
you're using for a budget. I
have experience and training you don't.
I want you to accept me as your teacher, your sponsor and your commanding
officer."
Dick's jaw dropped.
"That . . . that would be . . . everything I could have hoped
for. I . . .
.
"Are you making this same offer to all the
others?"
Wayne shook her head.
"No, just you. And Barbara,
since she's so close to you.
You're something special, Dick.
I've been watching. You've
got talent, intelligence, courage and good
morals. I admired the way you
handled yourself with Crazy-Quilt.
You could have killed her easily, but you didn't."
Dick shrugged, embarrassed.
"I didn't have to."
"There's another reason you're a special case,
though. One you deserve to
know.
"One night, some seventeen years ago . . . ."
Thomas Wayne had taken a train to Star City for a meeting
that morning. Martha Wayne had
spent seven hours in surgery. They
were both more than ready for bed by the time the movie let
out. Their daughter, on the other hand, was still full of energy,
among other things, zigzagging up and down the block, covering three times
as much ground as her parents on the way
home. The movie had been exciting,
to say nothing of the cartoons, but what had really revved her motor had
been the first chapter of a new serial, Zorro's Black
Whip. Swinging in a tight
circle around a lamppost, she gushed at the tired couple.
"Did you see her? A girl
being Zorro! That is so
swell! And did you see how she --"
Roberta's orbit of the lamppost halted abruptly as she took in the
man who stood in the middle of the sidewalk before the Waynes, a pistol aimed
directly at Roberta.
"In the alley," he snarled, gesturing with the
gun.
Roberta Wayne was to remember that move many times in the years to
come. Using a gun as a pointer
was a sloppy, amateurish act. It
was probably what inspired Thomas Wayne to try to disarm the
man.
Wayne calmly ushered his wife and daughter before him into the alley,
and as he passed the hoodlum, made a sudden grab for the
gun. They struggled over it
for a moment, and it fired.
Thomas Wayne stepped back, eyes wide, mouth open, his hands moving
only gradually to cover the bleeding hole at the crotch of his
pants.
Wayne fell against a wall, mouth working as though he were trying
to force out a scream, though he made no sound.
"Brought it on yourself, asshole," the thug said,
amused. He put the muzzle of
his gun to Thomas Wayne's forehead and fired again.
The man turned towards Martha Wayne, and his malicious smile turned
to a look of utter disgust. Dr. Wayne was lying in the alley, her slackening hands
falling away from her chest, obviously dead.
"Shit, I was lookin' forward to having some fun with that
one."
He looked at the last of the Waynes and shrugged.
"A little young, but I guess you'll do."
With no more word than that, he approached Roberta
Wayne. She had already backed
into a doorway as far as she could go, and merely stood, frozen, as the killer
pushed up her pleated plaid skirt and pulled her white cotton briefs down
to her saddle shoes.
She said nothing. In fact, it was three days before she spoke to
anyone.
Dick Gordon looked out over the rooftops, shaking his
head.
"Oh, God. I knew it had to have been something . . . major that
led you to become Batwoman, but I never, well . . . ."
"They found me in the alley an hour later, sitting beside the
bodies. Our butler was there
almost at once, fortunately for me. He took charge of me, moved me from the downtown penthouse
to our old place outside the city.
I was beginning to recover when we realized I was
pregnant."
Dick turned back to her, gaping.
"Then you must have . . . ."
"No, we didn't. The following
March, a month after my fourteenth birthday, I gave birth to a healthy
boy. With my butler's help, I arranged for him to be adopted
by friends of my parents who already had a child."
"In March, seventeen -- no, sixteen -- years ago?"
"On the Ninth."
Dick's mouth slowly formed the word, "Mother?"
"No. Ellen's your
mother. And Jim's your father,
not . . . that man."
"Yes, of course, but . . . ."
"I gave birth to you, yes.
I've watched you grow up, taken as much pride as I thought I deserved
in your accomplishments. And
when I figured out that you and Barbara were Batgirl and Robin, it was the
happiest day of my life."
She stared into the night, shook herself and spoke
again.
"There's more, though.
"A year ago, I became engaged to Harvey Dent."
Dick remembered that. They
had seemed an odd couple, the all-business District Attorney and the madcap
millionairess. Now he saw just
how much they'd had in common.
"Harvey was trying to convince me to give up being Batwoman after
we were married. He had me about
half convinced to do it. Also about half-convinced to break it off with
him.
"Then I was captured by the Joker and placed in a
deathtrap. Must have been the
sixth or seventh time. But that
time was different. Once he
had me stripped naked and tied to the frame, he raped me.
"I escaped, of course. The
deathtrap, anyway.
"Afterwards, I told Harvey the truth about what had
happened. I told myself it wouldn't
be right to hide it from him, but maybe I was testing him, or trying to drive
him away.
"He was a very old-fashioned man in some
respects. We had been planning
to wait until our wedding night to have sex, but now he said he wanted to
consummate our relationship then and
there. Maybe he wanted to stake
his claim on me. Maybe he wanted to confuse the possible issue of
paternity.
"It was the third time in my
life. The first time with a
man I loved, or even one I didn't hate.
"Well, you know what happened to Harvey about two weeks after
that.
"I don't know when I'll feel up to telling my daughter she can take
her pick of daddies: the Joker or Two-Face."
Dick lifted his head.
Roberta frowned at the tears flowing freely down his
face.
"Daughter?"
"Born a month ago, during my six-month 'round the world
cruise'. Next week I'll formally
adopt her, the child of an anonymous birth mother.
"That's another reason I want a close relationship with you as my
pupil. At fourteen I wasn't
capable of being a mother to you; I don't want to give Delia up, or let her
grow up while I'm busy. I need
someone I can trust to share Batwoman's burden while I'm raising
her."
She drew something else from her utility belt.
"Here, put this on."
Dick unrolled the tiny black object into a domino mask that felt slightly
sticky on one side. Smoothed against his skin, it stayed in place until Roberta
showed him how to pinch it up at one corner.
"Something one of my scientists at Tyler Chemical came up
with. Consider it the first
installment of your new equipment."
Roberta pulled her cowl back over her face, unlimbered her grapnel
and scanned the neighboring buildings, considering where to direct
it.
"Think it over, talk about it with
Barbara. Call me at the Wayne
Foundation, leave a message about 'the project we discussed on
Friday'."
"Well, okay, but I'm pretty sure Babs' answer will be the same as
mine. I can't tell you how good
it feels to have your support, your approval, to know that what we've been
doing is the right thing."
Batwoman fired her grapnel at a distant
cornice. She looked over her
shoulder at Robin.
"I wish I knew that."
Dick watched her swing away into the night.
More Earth-349 stories
can be found at
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/earth349
Contact the author
at doctor_p99@hotmail.com