Thread: Why you should fear the dark (darkest_fate/Flassche)

RE Why you should fear the dark That day would haunt Barbara's memories for a lifetime. She'd been there, been so close. She'd been so young then hell, she was still young now, in the grand scheme of things, not even an adult by society's standards. Things had just moved so fast, too fast, blurring before her vision. Or, rather, they had then, at the time. In Barbara's memories and nightmares, time moved painfully slow, crawling by as Bruce, as Damien, as Dick... The Batgirl shook her head, feeling her long red hair slide over her shoulders. She still wore the symbol, still wore the bat, still protected the city. The entire weight of it had fallen on her shoulders. Well, that wasn't strictly true Huntress still prowled the streets, and there were a handful of other caped crusaders. There had even been other pretenders to the cowl that had popped up from time to time. Batgirl had taken care of them, well, most of them. The Batwoman had proven to be impressive enough to be worth keeping around that and the new Question had vouched for her, which was enough for Barbara. Still, the fight hadn't gotten any easier. If anything, things were worse than ever. The crooks knew that the Bat, the real Bat was gone now. Only the little Battette, as Joker had laughingly called Barbara once, prowled the streets now. Well, the Battette's doing a damn good job of it Barbara thought as she followed the crooks moving in the streets below, her blue eyes tracing their movements. She could feel her skin prickling beneath the Kevlar enhanced bodysuit. Since Bruce had perished, Batgirl had elected to wear a slightly stronger version of her old uniform. She kept the colors, more or less. The cowl was still midnight blue as opposed to directly black, with her eyes looking out from beneath the armored hood. The weighted cape extended down to her ankles, fluttering around a pair of dark blue boots. Dark gray reinforced fabric crawled up her lean legs, wrapping tightly to her gymnast's body. A weighed belt, still yellow, hung on Batgirl's hips, weighted with all the tools of her trade. The uniform kept its uniformity as it crawled up her lithe torso, compressing her perky, youthful breasts. The bat was emblazoned upon her chest, still black, the only piece of her that was. The symbol would not die, not while there was someone to wear it. Batgirl descended, instantly taking out one hood with her landing. A batarang flew from her belt, hooking another before he could react. Panic set in, the crooks scattering throughout the alleys. Batgirl melted into the shadows. This she could do in her sleep. The new Bat spent countless hours pouncing from the shadows, proving just as stealthy as the original, if not more so. Barbara would simply never be as strong as Bruce or Dick, or even Damien she had to use what she had. Damien, the young man's name hung in Barbara's mind as she dispatched another hoodlum. Rumors had swirled that he had come back, that he'd somehow been dragged to the pit. That wouldn't have surprised Barbara Talia was always a possessive bitch. It was just as likely that the new Damien was a clone or something. Then again, people never seemed to stay dead around here. No matter, Barbara couldn't focus on Damien, not now. She had the problem in front of her to deal with. One left, she muttered into the dark of Gotham. Her eyes scanned the area, wondering where her last target had hidden himself.