I Am Batgirl

A pair of bat-shaped ears jutted upward from a sleek black mask, which completely enveloped the girl's face. The mask merged seamlessly with the dark, form-fitting armor that clung to her petite frame, a stark contrast to the oversized black cloak that billowed slightly behind her. Across her chest, a golden bat symbol gleamed faintly in the dim light of the alley, though its shape was distorted slightly by her figure.

Yes, a little girl.

Her small stature made it impossible for her to completely conceal her youth, even beneath the full-body armor. Even with the mask hiding her face, it was clear—she was too young to be standing here, in an alley, facing down four of the most feared killers in the world. Her height, her size, her frame—it all spoke of someone who, by all accounts, wouldn't even make it past a basic FBI resume review, let alone qualify to fight against elite assassins.

The killers made their judgment almost instantly—just like Frank, "Poisonous Bee" had a few days ago:

A naive young girl, high on a sense of justice, likely enamored with the recent rise of vigilante culture. Someone who probably watched a few too many superhero movies, learned a bit of self-defense, and now believed she could be a hero.

"Leave it to me," Green Snake yawned, her voice languid, almost bored. She lazily took a step forward, her heels clicking softly against the wet pavement, and rolled her neck as if to stretch out the stiffness from waiting too long. She didn't even bother to adopt a fighting stance. Her demeanor radiated arrogance, as if this fight was already over before it had begun.

Green Snake's lips curled into a half-smile as she sauntered toward the girl. "Alright, little one. I don't know where you came from, but we're dealing with grown-up business here." Her voice was playful, but there was a hard edge to it. "If you're smart, you'll turn around and walk away. Do that, and we'll pretend this never happened."

Her gaze trailed lazily over Batgirl's armor. More show than substance, she thought.

"That's what I'm saying, but I know how you kids are. You'll ignore everything and still think you can take us on." She sighed dramatically, casting a glance back at her teammates. "Fine. Let's just cut the mess quickly."

A cold tension hung in the air.

Maybe it was Director Linton's earlier provocation, or perhaps it was their professional pride as elite killers, but despite their eagerness to gang up on Linton—Grace City's FBI director—this was different. They couldn't bring themselves to brutally gang-beat a kid who clearly didn't know what she was getting herself into. As far as they were concerned, taking out this Batgirl wouldn't even require effort, let alone the full force of four world-class assassins. Green Snake thought she could handle it alone.

Linton, still slumped against the wall, bruised and bloodied, barely able to stand, struggled to find his voice. "Get out of here... kid. This isn't your fight!" His words were laced with a mix of desperation and fear. He had watched these killers tear him apart. He knew what they were capable of, and the sight of this small girl in a bat suit only made his stomach churn. Even in his broken state, his mind raced with dread over what they'd do to her.

But the girl didn't respond. Her movements were calm, deliberate. She didn't seem phased by the looming threats around her, nor by the obvious underestimation from her opponents.

Green Snake smirked, not even bothering to raise her fists in preparation. Her posture remained relaxed, mocking. "Go on," she teased. "Take just half a step, and this'll be over before you know it."

And then Batgirl moved.

Boom.

A punch landed squarely on Green Snake's face with such speed that it took everyone a second to process what had just happened.

Green Snake stood frozen for a heartbeat, her eyes wide with shock, her body momentarily paralyzed by the impact. Then, as if her connection to reality had been severed, her body collapsed backward like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She hit the ground hard, her chest rising and falling with shallow, ragged breaths, the exaggerated curves of her figure quivering before coming to a stop.

***

For a long moment, the alley was swallowed by stunned silence. The three remaining killers stared at their fallen comrade in disbelief. Green Snake, one of the top assassins in the Black Sun organization, had just been knocked out cold by a single punch.

These weren't amateurs. Every one of them was a highly trained killer, each having mastered at least two or three combat styles. But in that instant, none of them had seen it coming. The punch hadn't been flashy, hadn't seemed particularly special. There had been no clear technique, no recognizable martial arts form. It was as though Green Snake had simply stood still, letting the girl hit her.

But that wasn't it. They knew, deep down, that something else had happened. Something they couldn't fully comprehend.

This girl wasn't just some teenager playing dress-up.

Black Eagle, still reeling from what he had just witnessed, stared down at his wife's unconscious form. Fear flickered in his eyes for the briefest moment before his instincts kicked in. His mind raced, analyzing the situation. If Green Snake had fallen, then this girl was no ordinary vigilante. She wasn't some child imitating superheroes—she was the real thing.

"Interesting," he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes. He signaled to Kestrel and Ghost Face with a barely perceptible nod, and immediately, the three killers began to move, forming a triangle around Batgirl. There was no more room for underestimation. They had seen enough to know this was a different game now.

"I've been wanting to test myself against one of these 'superheroes,'" Black Eagle said, his voice lowering into a deep growl. "Looks like I finally get the chance."

Despite his words, there was no honor in his approach. He had no intention of facing her alone. He and his remaining two teammates began to encircle her like wolves closing in on prey. The girl may have taken down Green Snake, but now they were prepared. They wouldn't be as easy to catch off-guard.

Linton, barely conscious, tried to push himself up from the wall. His body screamed in protest, his muscles weak and trembling from the earlier beating. He knew he couldn't fight, but he couldn't just stand by and let this girl face these killers alone. But as he looked at her—her calm, focused stance, her every movement precise and deliberate—he realized something.

She didn't need his help.

In fact, she was the one who was going to save him.

Batgirl didn't wait for them to attack. She moved first, her focus locked onto Black Eagle. He was the biggest and most dangerous of the three, and she wasted no time.

Her punch came fast—too fast. Black Eagle barely had time to react. He took a step back, instinctively retreating, but it was a mistake. The second he moved, his footing faltered, and Batgirl was already inside his defenses. Before he could correct himself, her hand shot out, locking onto his arm in a strange, almost unnatural grip. There was a sickening snap as his arm was twisted beyond its limit.

Black Eagle let out a guttural roar of pain, his massive form stumbling backward, clutching his now useless arm. It had happened in the blink of an eye—two moves, maybe three—and one of the most feared assassins in the world had just been crippled.

Kestrel and Ghost Face exchanged a glance, their disbelief palpable. This was beyond anything they had imagined. But there was no time for hesitation.

Ghost Face lunged, his blade flashing in the dim light as he aimed for her throat. But Batgirl had already predicted his move. She ducked low, her body coiling like a spring, and countered with a sweeping leg kick. Ghost Face, expecting the attack, shifted his weight to dodge, but it was a feint. The real attack came from her other leg, which snapped out with a precise, brutal force that caught him in the midsection.

The impact lifted Ghost Face off the ground, his knife clattering uselessly as he doubled over, clutching his stomach in agony. He fell to the ground, gasping for air, his face twisted in pain.

Kestrel, seeing his teammate go down, took his chance. He charged forward, fists raised, ready to strike. But Batgirl didn't even need to turn around. She sensed him. With a calm, fluid motion, she spun on her heel, her eyes locking onto his.

That glance stopped him in his tracks.

It wasn't just fear—it was pure, primal instinct that told him his next move would be his last. In that brief moment, he saw the flaw in his own stance, the vulnerability he hadn't noticed until she showed it to him with a single glance. Desperation set in, and he tried to adjust his footing, but it was too late.

Batgirl stepped in, her movement a blur, and grabbed his head with both hands, slamming his face downward. Her knee shot up with brutal efficiency, connecting with the bridge of Kestrel's nose with a sickening crack. Blood erupted from his nostrils as his body went limp, crumpling to the ground like a discarded rag doll.

In a matter of seconds, Kestrel lay unconscious beside Ghost Face and the incapacitated Black Eagle. The alley, once filled with the tension of impending violence, had fallen into an eerie, oppressive silence. The only sound that remained was the soft drip of rainwater trickling from a nearby gutter and the ragged breathing of the beaten assassins.

Director Linton, leaning heavily against the wall, could barely comprehend what he had just witnessed. His jaw hung slack, his swollen, bruised face a mask of utter disbelief. This petite girl—this Batgirl—had systematically dismantled some of the most dangerous killers in the world as if it were child's play. Four opponents, all dispatched in less than a minute.

The thought clawed at his mind, How... How could this be possible?

His instincts screamed that this girl should be vulnerable, that she couldn't possibly possess the strength, speed, or technique to take down hardened killers. But he had seen it with his own eyes—seen her movements, her precision, her absolute mastery of combat. And the most unsettling part? She didn't even seem winded.

Batgirl turned slowly, her cloak swirling around her legs like dark smoke. Her body language remained calm, composed, as if what she had just done was as natural as breathing. To her, this wasn't extraordinary—it was just another fight.

Black Eagle, nursing his broken arm, struggled to push himself up from the ground. He looked at Batgirl with wide, terrified eyes, his once towering bravado shattered. He had underestimated her from the moment she appeared, and now, he could feel it—the sheer weight of her power, her skill, her presence. This wasn't a girl. This was something else. Something far beyond his understanding.

"W-What... what are you?" he gasped, voice trembling as he clutched his useless arm. His mind scrambled for answers, trying to reconcile the fact that a child—a mere child—had bested him so easily.

Batgirl tilted her head slightly, as though considering the question. Her eyes, hidden behind her mask, glinted with something that Black Eagle couldn't decipher—something dark, almost haunted.

She pointed to the bat symbol on her chest, the hollow golden mark that gleamed faintly in the dim alleyway light.

"I... Revenge," she said slowly, her voice a little rough, as though she wasn't used to speaking, "Batgirl."