I Am The Night- Part Twelve by: Enemyoffun Steven Brown has a rough time, wanting to be a girl and hiding it from his angry abusive father. But when Steven gets a chance to express his hidden side through a fantastic opportunity, things change, including himself.

-----

Author's Note: Here's Ch. 11, the beginning of things for our heroine. This is the chapter where it starts, sorta a Batgirl Begins if you will. I apologize for the slow nature of this narrative as of late but things will pick up soon :) I'd like to thank djkauf for the editing and DC Comics for the characters.

-----

Chapter Eleven:

I’m not sure what I expected to happen next. But what did happen was not at all like I expected. Someone loudly cleared their throat behind me and placed a hand gently on my shoulder. From the grip, I could tell who it was. I didn’t even have to turn around but I did anyway. Alfred was standing there, his hand still on my shoulder. He didn’t look upset or angry but he definitely looked annoyed. I guess he had a right to be; after all, I was definitely poking my nose in where it didn’t belong. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth, hoping for some kind of explanation to issue forth. But nothing came. That surprised me. But it didn’t surprise him in the least.

“Miss Stephanie” he said, softly moving his hand and shaking his head.

“I’m in big trouble aren’t I?”

He frowned. “Do you even need to ask?”

I sighed and nodded. He turned and I knew that was the cue to follow him. A normal person would have put the bat shaped throwing thingy back but I’m not normal. For some reason I found myself still holding it as I followed him toward the stairs. Another thing I found myself holding: the picture of my mother and Bruce. I snatched it up from where I left it, carrying it like it was the most precious thing in the world. As I got to the stairs there was a hiss and a low thump, probably the wall closing back up. I bit my lip and followed the elderly butler up the stairs to my doom. Ok, I was being a bit overly dramatic but something like this wasn’t exactly covered when the job was discussed. What to do when you find out your boss moonlights as a crime fighter? Hmmm, nope definitely not covered anywhere in any talks with me.

When we got back into the parlor and the bookcase closed up, Alfred led the way to Bruce’s room. The first thing I saw was Bruce, sitting up in bed. He didn’t look pissed but he didn’t look happy either. Summer was sitting on the edge of the bed again but it was clear she had no idea what was going on. I quickly stuffed the throwing star in my pocket; I didn’t want her to see it too. It was bad enough that one of us knew his secret, there was no need for me to go advertising it. Alfred gave me a reassuring push and I half walked, half stumbled to stand before the bed. Summer looked from me to Bruce and back to me again. The look of confusion plastered across her face was the same look I’d had moments ago. Except her look would never disappear.

“Did something happen?” she asked, trying to read the blank expressions on our faces.

“Summer, go wait in the parlor” said Bruce in a stern voice.

She slowly slid off the bed. “You told me that I was supposed to remain here at all times…”

“Leave” snapped Bruce, raising his voice an octave.

The color drained from Summer’s pretty face and she bolted from the room. I turned and watched her go. Then looked back at Bruce. He nodded his head and Alfred disappeared too, closing the door behind him. Now the two of us were alone. The silence in the room was eerie. I tried to look anywhere but his face. But for some reason I found myself looking at him. I was trying to see the man there, the one that stalked during the nights, fighting crime and making the city safe. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t see it. I could see a man clear as day---a good, honest man---but there was nothing mysterious or dangerous about him. It was Bruce Wayne lying before me, not the black clad vigilante that the press called “The Bat”.

I decided that it might be a good idea to apologize so that’s what I did. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…it was an accident” I said then held up the picture. “I found this the last time I was down there…I just wanted to look at it again.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes drifted to the picture frame in my hands. For a moment, his lips curled into a smile but it was gone quickly. A tear rolled down my cheek, which surprised me because I didn’t even know I was crying.

He smiled again, this time not trying to hide it. “That picture was taken a few days after your mother and I first met,” he said, adjusting his position on the bed. “My parents were going out of town and they hired her to take care of me for the weekend. I suppose Alfred could have done it but I wanted someone new, someone around my age. I was nine then and I thought my parents might find a teenage boy to come.”

He laughed and coughed, clearly it hurt to do so. “Of course I’d never had a babysitter before so I didn’t know that guys didn’t normally do those kinds of things. When your mother showed up---and I saw it was a girl---I threw a temper tantrum. I fell to the ground and kicked my feet, tossing up dirt and grass. Alfred pulled me to my feet and tried to get me to behave.” He laughed again, “I was a little brat at that age. When Alfred got me to my feet your mother stomped over to me and do you know what she did?” I shook my head, mesmerized. “She slapped me. She slapped me hard. I felt it for the whole day, the sore, swelling pain. No one had ever hit me before.”

He laughed again but there was no cough. “After that I couldn’t believe how cool this girl was. Of course, I didn’t tell her that. I was a little bastard to her for the rest of the day, I gave her hell. But your mother, it didn’t seem to faze her in the least. She put up with my crap and came back the next day, ready to take it again. But I was done fighting; I’d already had my fit. Back then, I didn’t have any friends; there were no other kids who lived in the Manor. We had a lot of staff but all of them were my parents’ age or older. She was the first person my age---well just about---and I loved her like a sister from that day onwards.”

I smiled. “You two look really happy here,” I said, indicating the picture.

He smiled. “That picture was taken on the day that my parents came back. I was so happy because they promised to take me to the theater that night…” his voice trailed off after that and it was about two minutes before he spoke again. “I don’t think I ever was that happy again.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out which day this was taken on. I know Alfred had told me a bit about it but I got curious too. I looked up the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne on the Internet. As I mentioned before, I couldn’t imagine what watching your parents killed in front of you might do to someone of that age. But I had a good idea that it had a horrible impact on Bruce. The clocks in the house, the same lunch every day---it was scary and sad all at the same time. Then there was the other thing, the dark thing. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the bat shaped throwing star, gripping it tightly in my palm.

I think I figured out then where “The Bat” came from, too. It made sense in a way---a man not wanting anyone else to suffer what a boy suffered. I understand. I had an overwhelming sense of justice too, one that had driven me to almost the same point as Bruce. Not nearly as severe but close enough to be almost cousins.

I took a deep breath and set the throwing star on the bed. “I won’t tell anyone,” I said softly, but loud enough for him to hear.

I went to set the picture on the bed too but he shook his head.

“That’s yours.”

I shook my head. “I can’t take this from you…it’s your last happy memory.”

He smiled. “I have one more. You take that one, let it be your happy memory.”

I smiled. “I’ve never seen her so happy” I said, stroking my mother’s face.

Another silence lingered between the two of us. I looked at the bat on the bed then at the man, trying to tell who started and ended where. The bat was just a thing but it represented so much more. When my eyes locked with his, I think he saw it there. I know I tried to find the Bat in his eyes but I couldn’t see it. His eyes were the same blue if a bit darker now, colder maybe. I had a chill run down my spine. This was Bruce Wayne, the real Bruce Wayne. Here was the tortured boy grown into an even more tortured man, never truly ever able to give up his parents. The man I knew and came to respect was a façade.

He broke the silence again. “You can have the rest of the day off, Stephanie. I’ll see you Monday afternoon, right after school.”

I nodded and backed toward the door, staring at the bat on the bed. Then I turned and started for it. I’m not sure why it felt like there was lead in my chest or my feet for that matter. I got a few steps, almost to the door when I stopped. I closed my eyes and I saw the Bat again but it was different. It was bigger, brighter, spread across a banner of black. I opened my eyes and my heart skipped a beat. I turned around and Bruce sighed. I looked at the bat on the bed again then at him. Our eyes locked again. I opened my mouth but it was already like he knew what I was going to say.

“No” It was one simple word but it cut me like a knife.

“But I can help.”

“Out of the question.”

I pressed harder. “I’m different, I’m not exactly sure what I am but I’m not human. You know that, you’ve seen the medical files, you know about STAR Labs and the DMA. You know what I am.”

“It doesn’t make a difference,” he said sternly, raising his voice a bit.

“I can do this,” I said, puffing up my chest. “It won’t be forever, only until you get back. I can take your place, fight crime in your stead.”

“It’s too dangerous,” he said then quickly added. “You’re not trained for it.”

“Then train me,” I said, insistent.

He shook his head. “Out of the question.”

“Why not!”

I was pretty pissed now. It was like he wasn’t even listening to me anymore. He was the Bat; he was the great defender of justice. He helped people, he kept the city safe. He should have been out there, out there taking out the bastards responsible for hurting Arnold. Out there making sure Thrill didn’t hurt anyone else. But he was being stubborn. Stubborn and stupid and scared.

“Are you scared?” I snapped, regretting my words. “Scared I might do better.”

That sent him over the edge. “I’M SCARED YOU MIGHT GET HURT.”

My temper flared. “WHY DOES IT MATTER TO YOU?”

Bruce didn’t say a thing. I should have felt real good about shutting him up. Instead, I felt about two inches tall. But my stubborn pride was getting in the way. It was my pride that guided my hand, causing me to reach and grab for the bat. Bruce was quicker. He lashed out and grabbed my wrist, giving it a rough twist. Even though he was weak, I could feel the power behind it. When I snapped up at him, fire in my belly, tears in my eyes, I knew there was no way he was going to let me do this. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, instead I pulled my wrist from his hand and stormed out of the room. I pushed past Alfred who was coming to see what was going on, not stopping to apologize. I stormed through the parlor and down the stairs, anger and pain guiding me. Bruce was still the spoiled rotten brat, not willing to share his things with others. Anger was fueling my thoughts but all I wanted to do was help. I thought he’d understand, I thought he’d help me. But he didn’t want to help me; he wanted nothing to do with it. Well the hell with him, the hell with all of it. I was done with this place, done with the fake Bruce Wayne.

I’m not even sure how fast I was running. I knew I was running though because one minute I was running down the stairs of the tower and then the next it was down hallways. I found myself in the garage shortly after that and into my car. I tossed my purse and the picture frame on the front seat. I got out my keys and drove. I wasn’t speeding but I was driving angry. I peeled out of the garage, down the long drive and into the street. I headed into the city, headed nowhere I knew. It was like my body was driving without my mind knowing where it was going. I’m not sure how far I drove but it wasn’t long before most of the familiar was gone and I found myself in an unfamiliar place.

I finally shut off the engine, the car parked under a tree. I looked about, my heart pounding in my chest. Then I pounded the steering wheel with my fists, crying. My pounding was so hard I caused the horn to beep with each fist. I’m not sure how long I pounded for but I did manage to hear the tapping on my window. It brought me out of my anger and into the real world again. I stopped pounding and looked around, realizing that I kinda had some idea where I was after all. I was on the far side of the city, in a small shopping district that my mother used to take me as a child.

It was then that I noticed whoever it was tapping on my window. I frowned and cursed. Then I rolled down the window, finding a police officer standing there. He’d been tapping on my window with the butt of his flashlight. He didn’t look too happy either.

“Are you all right, Miss?”

I nodded, wiping my tears. “I’m good, officer, I’m sorry for causing so many problems.”

He frowned. “As long as you’re good. But you shouldn’t stay out here for too long, its past curfew and you know I don’t have to tell you want happens then.”

I nodded. This time of the night was when the crazies came out. He smiled and walked over, probably to get to his car and get the hell out of here too. I took a deep breath and turning the key in the ignition, about to do the same as well. As soon as I turned on the engine, my phone rang. It was a short burst of noise, meaning it was a text and not a phone call. I frowned as I grabbed my purse, rummaging inside. No one had my number except Jen. The phone was too new; I hadn’t even given the number to Uncle Jim or Barbara. When I pulled it out and saw a number I didn’t recognize I frowned in confusion.

Then I sighed and clicked on it. It was probably another stupid ad from the cell phone company. I got a dozen of those a day. But the message on the screen wasn’t an ad; it was also from no one I’d ever heard of either. I stared and read, it was pretty short: DO YOU WANT TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE IN THIS CITY, LEARN HOW TO PROTECT IT LIKE HIM. THEN SEEK OUT ONYX, SHE’LL HELP YOU BECOME THE PERSON YOU WANT TO BE.

Onyx? I looked at the signature on the bottom, it was only one word, I’m not even sure it was a name.

ORACLE. What the hell was Oracle?

____________________________________

“Oracle?” said Jen as the two of us walked down the hall. “Like in Delphi?”

I shrugged. “The texter didn’t clarify”

“Sounds kinda fishy to me,” she said as we walked into the cafeteria.

That was exactly my thoughts all Saturday night. After getting home from the “incident” with Bruce, I couldn’t help but think about it. It tortured me all night. I barely got any sleep in fact. When I woke up Sunday morning, I spent the whole morning trying to figure out how a random stranger could have texted me like that. I came to the conclusion it had to be some kind of scam. But no matter how much I tried to drop it, it just kept coming back to me. I tried to occupy my time by jogging in the park. I’d been doing that a lot lately on the weekends, especially on Sundays. The weather was only going to be good until at least the end of October and I wanted to get in as much exercise as possible. Last week I saw a flyer on the wall for cheerleader tryouts. I know what you’re thinking and no, I didn’t really want to be a cheerleader but the school had no gymnastics team. The tryouts were not until next week---apparently one of the girls hurt herself during a game last week and they were looking for a replacement.

But the tryouts were the last thing on my mind. If it wasn’t Oracle, it was Onyx. She was even more of a conundrum than Oracle. Well, I’m guessing it was a woman anyway. I don’t know how many guys were named Onyx to tell you the truth. So Sunday night I decided to take a look on the Net to see what I could find. I didn’t find a thing, which didn’t surprise me in the least. I spent hours looking though and finally came to the conclusion that someone was pulling my leg.
Jen and I walked into the cafeteria. I looked over into the corner---at the table that Arnold might have been sitting at if he was in our lunch period---it was full of geeks. It made me think of him. According to the doctors, he was going to be recovering for a few weeks, bedridden in the hospital. I think they were just making sure the drug was completely out of his system. Sitting at the table were a group of unfortunates, so like Arnold it was scary. They looked particularly somber. They had a right to be. Last night on the news, someone else had died from Thrill---another one just like Arnold. I’m not sure who was targeting them specifically but it was clear they were prime bait. After all Thrill was like a super steroid and the lot of them were at the bottom of the food chain.

I looked from them over to another table. If Arnold’s former table was the table of losers, the one I looked at now was as far from it as humanly possible. It was the popular table, ruled over by Queen Jordana and her evil brood. Half the girls there were on the squad, they were dressed in tight jean skirts and baby tees. Thankfully, Jordana wasn’t a member or else my chances of getting onto the team---even as an alternate---were slim to none. I locked eyes with the bitch, she was sending me daggers as usual. She still had to get over the whole Francisco thing, even though it was old news by now. I tried to ignore the look, hoping that some of her friends didn’t share her same hatred for me. Around them were the muscle bound football players and I knew more than half of them hated me.

“There’s Henry,” said Jen, breaking my stare.

I looked away from the popular kids and found our quarry. Henry usually sat in a secluded corner; his only company was his laptop. Today was no different. Jen and I wove our way through the crowd, avoiding the long lunch line for the moment. He was so engrossed in his game he didn’t see us approach. When I flopped down in the chair next to him, he still didn’t react. I reached over and flipped the laptop shut, which caught his attention really fast.

He snapped up, jumping a bit. He pulled off his gigantic headphones and cursed. “Jesus, Stephanie, give a guy some warning.”

“Consider yourself warned,” said Jen.

Henry frowned at her. Jen had this way with people.

“I want to ask you something,” I said, giving Jen a look. I needed Henry’s help again and her antagonizing him wasn’t helping things.

He sighed. “I looked for Lena but I couldn’t find her. But I’ve got a lead which I’m following for a moment; it might take some time…”

“I don’t care about that at the moment” I said cutting him off, he frowned. “What do you know about someone called Oracle?”

As soon as I said the name all the color drained from his face. I think that meant I hit a nerve.

“Where did you hear that name?” he asked in a hushed voice.

I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t matter where I heard it, what do you know?”

He shook his head. “Not without some serious green.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out fifty, holding it a few inches from his hawk-like nose. “You tell me what I want to know and it’s yours.”

He nodded, staring at the Grant in my fingers. “He’s an Uber-Hacker, one of the best out there. Chicago PD has been looking for him for about two years now but he’s a fricken ghost. No one can find him. They say he has this super computer, he can hack anything. The guy is like a living legend.”

I nodded, sharing a sidelong glance with Jen.

“What about someone called Onyx?”

He gave me a puzzled look. Then he flipped open his laptop and started clicking away. I sighed, it was clear that all my fifty was going to buy was half of what I was looking for. If Henry didn’t know then I was up the creek without a paddle. I tossed the fifty on the table then got up, slipping back into the crowd. Jen followed and the two of us went back to the lunch line, getting behind a pair of giggling blonde bimbos wearing far too much makeup. It didn’t take us long to get through the line then the two of us went to our usual table. A few days after putting Francisco in his place, I had a few groupies but once my fame died down, they fluttered back into the crowd of faceless unknowns. Now Jen and I were back to sitting by ourselves.

We talked about the usual which wasn’t much. The only thing we didn’t talk about was what happened Saturday. The only thing she knew was that I got into an argument with Bruce. I told her I was done with him. I don’t think she liked that idea; after all she still wanted a tour of the Manor. I didn’t tell her about Bruce’s alter ego. I thought about it of course but I had made a promise, even though I didn’t really feel the need to keep it. Thinking about it made me burn inside with anger. It pissed me off that he was too simple minded to see that I could really help him.

After lunch, I went to my afternoon classes. In the middle of study hall, my phone vibrated against my thigh. It scared the hell out of me because I swore I shut it off. I frowned and looked about, making sure the teacher didn’t see. But she was preoccupied by some trashy romance novel. So I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, surprised to see it on. I was also surprised to see a text on the screen, no number this time. I read it quickly and my eyes widened: DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING FOR YOU, ORACLE. Underneath which was an address and the word ONYX.

I stared at the little screen. Who in the hell was this person?

________________________________

Onyx’s place was practically a hole in the wall, hardly even a place at all.

I stared at the building in front of me then at my cell phone screen. I looked about, wondering if I was in fact in the right spot. It took me about an hour on one of the library computers to find this place. As soon as I showed the second text to Jen, of course she wanted to know what was really going on. When I told her about the first text, I said it just appeared out of the blue. I hated to lie to her but how else could I explain it. And it wasn’t really a lie; it did appear out of nowhere. I just left off the detail about it coming after I had an argument with the man who was The Bat. I think Jen knew I was keeping something from her but we had that kind of relationship, we respected each other’s secrets. I’m sure there was stuff she didn’t share with me too. So after showing her the second text---and her unsuccessfully pumping me for info---she agreed to help me search. I was glad she was there because she was the one who ultimately found the place. Apparently, I had been looking in the wrong part of town. I was expecting it to be in the Narrows but it was actually by the docks, off in a secluded corner. On the computer screen, it just appeared as a blinking number.

Looking at it now, I frowned. In front of me was a gray building, about two stories high. The front part was covered in graffiti; the window facing me was barred. Looking at it, you would have thought it belonged in the Narrows. There was only one door, it was tall and made out of metal. I kept staring at it, wondering if I should knock or run away---my gut was telling me to run. But my feet weren’t moving. Oracle sent me here for a reason, why I’m not so sure. It was clear that he knew what I’d been doing, how I don’t know. I was pretty certain he knew what Bruce was doing too, call it a hunch. The guy was kinda uncanny like that. After all Henry did call him a Super Hacker, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was somehow watching me right now.

I shivered at the thought, looking above me to make sure there were no cameras. I didn’t see any but that didn’t mean a thing. I still felt like I was being watched which gave me some courage. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, rapping my knuckles on the cold metal. A breeze whipped through, coming off the lake. It brought with it a smell of fish and algae, tearing my hair about, tugging at my clothes. I shivered, cursing myself for not wearing a jacket. It was only a few days into October but the nights were getting colder.

When I didn’t get a response to my first knock I tried again. As my fist was about to hit the metal for a second time, there was a click. The door opened slightly which in most circles was an unwritten invitation to come on in. I gulped and pushed the door open more, enough to slip inside. The first thing I noticed was how dimly lit the place was. The second thing I noticed was the smell. It was a combination of sweat and leather. I crinkled my nose and took in my surroundings. I was standing in a long hall with low ceilings, candles flicking on the walls. When I took a few steps, I noticed that the walls weren’t normal. They looked like the walls from those old Samurai movies. I reached out and touched one as I walked, feeling that it was in fact made out of paper.

As I walked, my sneakers squeaked on the wooden floor.

I followed the flickering candlelight to the end of the hall. Once I got there, I found another identical hall, stretching in both directions. I thought about going left until I saw a brighter light to the right. I took a deep breath, right it was. I followed the candles again, going toward the light. As I got closer, I realized it was coming from underneath a door, also made of paper. Through it, I could make out vague shadows but none of them were people shaped. I took another deep breath and slid the door open. Immediately I was hit by that smell again: leather and sweat.

The room before me was a lot larger than I was expecting. It was also vaguely familiar. In fact, it was so familiar I wanted to laugh. It looked like just about any other karate dojo in any martial arts movie I’d even seen. There were mats on the floors, racks of phony looking weapons against the walls. There were even cheesy replicas of Japanese wall hangings. It was all authentic looking but cheap at the same time. In the center of it all was a muscular looking black woman, her head shaved completely bald. She was crouching with her legs crossed, dressed in a green sports bra and skintight green pants. If she noticed me, she didn’t react. Instead, she seemed to be meditating.

I stared at her from the doorway for the longest time, waiting for her to acknowledge me. But when she didn’t, I took a step into the room. As soon as I did, she came to life. Not in a good way, either. I’m not sure what happened but it happened fast. Her hand snapped up and a dagger flew at me. It was quick, quicker than anything I’d ever seen before. I barely had time to react but I did. I’m not sure how I reacted so fast but I found myself lashing out, snatching it from midair. It was a good thing I caught it when I did because it had been aimed right at my face. My heart was pounding in my chest and I was breathing heavily.

How in the hell did I just do that?

She turned her head and smirked. “You’re not as useless as you look.”

I gulped. Then I dropped the knife, scared that it might somehow stab me. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I knocked and the door did open, I didn’t mean to barge in.”

The woman held up her hand. “You’re too noisy. I heard you far too early. You need to take smaller steps and not breathe so much. How do you expect to sneak up on someone if you stomp around like an elephant?”

I was confused. “Excuse me?”

She sighed. She jumped to her feet. Her motion was so fluid and fast that it was like she floated to her feet. She walked over to me, her hips had a bit of a sway and her powerful muscles were visible in her legs. I looked at her muscled abdomen, marveling at the rock hard nature of it. This was clearly a woman who spent a lot of time honing her body. Her muscles were even tighter than Bruce. I thought he was pretty fit and that was before I knew his secret. This woman looked to be in about the same shape as he was.

She stopped in front of me, towering over me. Once again, I was reminded about how short I was. Though in my defense she had to be at least six foot. “Hold out your arms.”

I reluctantly did do. She frowned. Then she pushed them up further, followed by kicking my legs apart, making me stand spread eagle. That’s when she walked around me. She was barefoot and I couldn’t hear a single one of her footfalls. It was uncanny to say the least. When she finished her full circle of me, she put her hand on her chin. Then she reached forward and grabbed the bottom of my shirt. She gave it a quick tug, pulling it up to my chin. I squeaked in protest, snapped forward to pull it down. Her hand was quicker, slapping mine away. What the hell was this woman’s problem?

“You’re a bit flabby,” she said, smacking my bare stomach with the back of her hand. Then she smacked me on the butt. “You need a lot of toning, too. You’re not completely hopeless but you’re going to need a lot of work that’s for sure.”

I frowned. She finally let go of my shirt and I quickly pulled it down. “Can you please tell me what’s going on here?”

She smirked again. “Oracle sent you?” I nodded. “Well then it’s my job to turn you into something worthy of protecting this city.”

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF