Hero

Although Black Eagle had asked the question, he hadn't expected an answer. His mind was already reeling from the events of the past few minutes, and the sight of Batgirl—this seemingly impossible figure—had only added to the confusion. He knew better than to expect clarity in a world of masks and shadows. If someone wears a mask, the whole point is anonymity. Asking 'who are you?' is pointless if they intend to keep their identity a secret.

But then, to his surprise, she answered.

"Revenge..."

Her voice was soft, almost too soft for the dark, rain-soaked alley. And her answer made no sense. Revenge? Whose revenge?

His mind raced. Had their organization crossed paths with some long-forgotten enemy? An assassin they'd wronged? Or was she referring to something much deeper, more personal?

Before he could grasp the meaning, his thoughts were abruptly cut off. Batgirl moved with lightning speed, her foot slamming into his forehead with precision. The blow was like a hammer, his consciousness instantly slipping away as he collapsed sideways, his body landing with a dull thud in the slick puddles that covered the alley floor.

As Black Eagle fell, his world darkened, and the last thing he saw was Batgirl standing over him, her cloak billowing in the rain-soaked wind.

---

In the aftermath, Director Linton—still dazed from the brutal beating he had endured earlier—stood in shock. His face was swollen, his breath labored from the deep ache in his ribs, and blood dripped from a gash along his cheekbone. Every movement sent pain coursing through his body, yet none of that compared to the disbelief that gripped him now.

Batgirl's response. Her words... The entire scene. It had been surreal.

Linton's mind raced. Batgirl, this strange figure who had just dismantled four of the world's most dangerous assassins—was not the ordinary vigilante the press liked to sensationalize. She was something far more mysterious, far more formidable.

Batgirl's training, her language barrier, and the fragmented way she spoke—it all tied back to a unique past. Cassandra had lost the ability to communicate through words as a child, trained from birth to master martial arts so advanced, they came at the cost of her natural development. It wasn't until later, when she encountered a strange and whimsical benefactor, that she learned to read and speak again. Her language skills remained stunted, but she could communicate through action—through simple phrases and gestures.

Her tribute to Batman, her idol, was clear in her movements and in her words. The dramatic phrases she'd uttered, which echoed Batman's own monologues about revenge and justice, sounded almost comical in her soft voice, given her linguistic struggles. But there was nothing funny about the efficiency with which she had taken down the four elite assassins of Black Sun.

Linton's thoughts were interrupted as Batgirl stepped forward, her black armor glistening in the faint light. Her dark cape flared briefly, then settled around her small figure as she approached him with deliberate steps. In the dim light of the alley, her presence was otherworldly—almost as if she were a shadow-given life.

Linton, still struggling to process what had happened, found himself instinctively reaching out as she extended her hand. Her small, gloved hand felt surprisingly strong as it gripped his. She helped him up effortlessly, a testament to the hidden strength that lay beneath her seemingly delicate frame.

The moment their hands touched, Linton couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. This small figure, this girl, had just done the impossible.

Once standing, Linton tried to compose himself, but the pain in his ribs flared up sharply, causing him to wince. A coughing fit overtook him, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. He quickly turned his head, spitting blood onto the ground beside him.

"Ahem... sorry about that," he managed to say, his voice rough. "Wasn't exactly my best day."

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the jagged pain as it brushed against his bruised cheek. The pain reminded him of the beating he had endured, the blows he had taken before Batgirl arrived.

"I'm usually better than this," he muttered, mostly to himself. He wasn't even sure why he was saying it—perhaps out of embarrassment, or some strange need to salvage his pride in front of this girl who had so effortlessly saved him.

But when Linton looked up, ready to thank her, Batgirl was gone.

The alley, once filled with tension and violence, now seemed empty, save for the unconscious bodies of the four assassins still lying on the ground. The rain fell steadily, pattering softly against the pavement, washing away the blood and grime.

Linton blinked in confusion.

How had she disappeared so quickly? Even in his injured state, his senses were usually sharp. But Batgirl had vanished as if she had never been there at all.

He stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the empty alleyway. Was it all in his head?

Had he imagined the entire encounter?

But no. The groaning figures of Black Eagle, Green Snake, Kestrel, and Ghost Face, scattered across the ground, told him otherwise. The battle had been real, as had her presence.

Linton lowered his gaze to his hand, the one that had briefly held hers. He could still feel the strength of her grip, the weight of her assistance. The entire night had been a whirlwind of impossible events, culminating in something far beyond what he had ever experienced in his career.

---

News of the confrontation in Grace City spread quickly. The capture of the four top assassins from Black Sun—Black Eagle, Green Snake, Kestrel, and Ghost Face—became the talk of the city. Their simultaneous defeat was not just a significant blow to the organization but an earth-shattering event within the entire world of hired killers.

Adding to the sensation was the fact that, just weeks before, Venomous Bee, another elite assassin, had been captured under mysterious circumstances in the same city. For professional killers around the world, Grace City had long been considered a safe zone, a place where corrupt officials ensured law enforcement would turn a blind eye to their activities. The city was known for its underworld connections, making it a fertile ground for lucrative contracts.

But now, with six of Black Sun's top operatives taken down, Grace City had become something of a deathtrap. Rumors swirled through the criminal underworld, and every assassin began to wonder—who or what had taken down their best?

The media, of course, latched onto the story, spinning it into a heroic narrative. The headlines proclaimed that Director Linton had single-handedly fought off the four Black Sun assassins, capturing them despite being outnumbered and severely injured.

To Linton, the version of events felt like a mockery of the truth. He had barely survived. He had been beaten, bloodied, and only saved by Batgirl's intervention. But when he tried to set the record straight, no one wanted to listen.

Even his superiors brushed him off.

"You should just keep quiet about all of this," his commanding officer told him one day as he lay in the hospital, still recovering from his injuries. The officer's tone was calm but firm, his words deliberate. He adjusted his glasses, peering down at Linton with a look of mild exasperation.

"Are you really suggesting we tell the public that the head of Grace City's FBI was attacked, nearly killed, and then saved by a little girl dressed as a bat?"

The officer's voice was low, but the edge of irritation was unmistakable.

"The public's already on edge with the rise of these vigilantes. And let's not forget the fact that people are losing faith in the police system. The city can't afford to look weak right now, not when we've just started turning things around."

The officer's eyes gleamed as he leaned in closer, his voice softening into a more dangerous tone. "Do you think anyone is going to take our department seriously if we tell them a little girl took down four of the world's most dangerous killers?"

Linton swallowed hard, his throat dry. He knew the answer to that. The public's trust in law enforcement was fragile, and any hint of incompetence could shatter it entirely. They needed a hero, and apparently, he was going to be it—whether he liked it or not.

"But that's not the truth," Linton said quietly. "She saved me. I owe her my life."

The officer adjusted his glasses again, giving a small, noncommittal shrug. "Then let that be the truth," he replied. "Go be that hero, Director Linton. Be the hero this city needs."

Linton was left with no choice but to comply. As much as he wanted to give credit where it was due, he couldn't risk the department's reputation. And so, the official story became his: Director Linton, the heroic leader who had taken down four elite assassins.

---

Meanwhile, far from Grace City, in a location known only to those within the Black Sun organization, chaos reigned. The loss of six top operatives had thrown the entire organization into a state of Frenzy. Black Eagle, Green Snake, Kestrel, Ghost Face, Venomous Bee, and his partner—each of them was a renowned killer in their own right, and yet, they had all been captured in Grace City.

The meeting room at Black Sun's base was tense. Voices were raised in frustration, accusations flying as the organization's higher-ups tried to make sense of what had gone wrong.

"That damn Director Linton," one of the lieutenants snarled, his fists clenched tightly. "He promised to clean up Grace City, and it looks like he's doing it."

When Director Linton had taken office, he'd made lofty promises about cracking down on the city's criminal underworld. At the time, most had laughed it off, assuming his words were nothing more than political posturing.

Now, no one was laughing.

"He's taken down our best men," another voice chimed in, this one more measured but no less concerned. "And if we go after him again, we might lose more."

The room fell silent as that uncomfortable truth settled over them. Black Sun's greatest strength had always been its ability to strike from the shadows, to assassinate targets with precision before anyone even knew they were there. But with their best killers defeated, Director Linton had become a formidable opponent.

From the shadows, a cold, calculated voice broke the silence.

"Enough."

The voice came from the screen at the head of the room, where a dark figure loomed in shadow. Black Sun himself—the founder of the organization, the living legend who had established this empire of killers.

No one dared to speak as his voice resonated through the room.

"I'll handle Director Linton myself."

Black Sun's presence, even through a screen, was enough to send a chill through the room. His sharp, calculating eyes gleamed in the darkness, and though he had long since retired from active work, his word was law.

The room fell deathly quiet. No one questioned him.