Angel of the Bat

A fanfiction by MJTR

[[Author's Intro: While looking around at various unpublished comic book concepts and ideas, I came across Gail Simone's "Angel of the Bat" storyline, and found myself very disappointed the thing never came to fruition. It seemed like such a good, interesting concept, and one that could lead to some potentially interesting storylines, and decided to take a crack at playing with the ideas in it. Bear in mind that this is not meant to be Simone's story, but is my version inspired by hers.

Credit for the main Batgirl symbol goes to the awesome Glee-Chan on Deviantart, check her out for more cool comic related stuff. The stained-glassing was done by me.

Written with endless dedication to Sadie. Not simply the best beagle in all the world, but my very dearest friend, and one of the surest signs in all the world to me that God really is out there. August 21, 1997- December 23rd, 2014. Forever loved.]]

It had begun as a standard night on patrol. No big breakouts, no new faces of crime, nothing special.

It was just after 3 AM, a few blocks down from the Gotham City General Hospital. A small dog, a miniature poodle, came running out of the automatic doors as his master came out after him. He was a portly old man dressed in black, a white color covering his neck and an umbrella at his side, having noticed it had stopped raining since he had come. Most of his hair had been lost with age, but he had managed to comb most of the remainder over his scalp. It was only a few blocks to the rectory where he lived, and he hadn't brought his wallet to hail a cab with.

Guiding his dog along the streets, the old one turned with the sound of man in a nearby alley calling, "Hey, pops!" A young man seated against a dumpster, holding out a plastic cup. "Spare some change?"

He smiled, pulling on his dog's leash and entering the alley, kneeling before the young man and saying, "I'm afraid I didn't bring my wallet this evening. But I think I have something else I can offer you. How about-"

It was as far as he was permitted to get. There was a smashing sound resonating through the alley a moment later, a baseball bat crashing across his back, the old man yelling in pain as he fell to the ground, his dog barking and snarling, trying its hardest to compensate for its size as the one with the bat entered the alley, the one sitting against the dumpster flashing him a grin as he got to his feet.

"Sorry there padre," he chuckled. "But you of all people prolly know, angel dust don't come easy."

"You spend all night on that one?" His compatriot asked as he began frisking the old man's pockets. "What the hell? He really didn't bring anything with him?"

"Aw come on!" The first complained as the dog continued to bark. "I thought he was onea those "praise the lord types" not onea those, "live in poverty" ones!"

The two didn't even notice as a shadow slowly began to cover them. "What the hell are you talkin' about? And hey, dog, shut the hell up!"

The dog made a lunge and dug its teeth into the uncovered leg of the one with the bat. He let out a yell and tried to shake it off as his friend reached into his pocket and produced a handgun.

"Shoulda kept your dog on a shorter leash old man," he sneered as his partner managed to kick it off. "Let's hope all dogs go to heaven, huh?"

Before he could pull the trigger, the shadow made its descent. A figure clad in black had jumped from the rooftop and landed on the armed one's back, kicking the gun out of his reach. The one with the bat yelled in response, though it wasn't clear what he said. He pulled the bat back intent on crashing into the figure, but it caught the attack, kicking him in the stomach and broke the bat over its knee, tossing the pieces aside and punching him in the face, seemingly knocking him unconscious.

The old man pushed himself onto his knees, wiping at his face a little and grabbing his dog's leash. The figure, who he could identify as female, put out her hand, helping the man to his feet.

"Come," she said simply.

The man was on his way up before he yelled, "Behind you!"

She had anticipated he would be back up, and, not releasing the man's hand, curved herself to the side and kicked him in the face, putting him again to the ground. When the old man was on his feet, she resumed her attack, grabbing and twisting the perp's arm until the sound of cracking bone and screams filled the alley. She looked intently towards the other before the old man yelled, "Enough!" She turned to him and settled a little as he said. "If you can… Please, help me back to the hospital." The figure nodded, going to his side to give him support, pulling him upwards, one of the old man's hand kept firmly on the leash. "My cell phone, it's in my right pocket. Could you hand it to me?" She complied wordlessly, scooping up his dog with her free hand and motioning to him it was alright to let go of the leash. His hand now free, he dialed 911, and when he received an answer, said, "I need to speak with Gotham emergency. There are two young men laying beaten in an alley on 34th street."

This was the first thing to happen that surprised the black figure. She would have put in word to the police that two criminals were awaiting arrest, but this man had called that they be taken in for care, first and foremost.

In the light of the hospital the figure was unquestionably Batgirl, unknown to the public as Cassandra Cain. Garbed entirely in black except for the yellows of her belt and outline of a bat that adorned her front, the man was intrigued to see her as she, for reasons she followed him to his room.

Cassandra did not usually see victims through after bringing them to safety, but it had proven a quiet night in Gotham and somehow, this old man had intrigued her since he had insisted on making the call.

After the preliminary screenings found he had not broken any bones, he was admitted to a room, a plucky nurse chuckling as she entered.

"And you and Snowball had just left this wing Father Ryan," she said. "And you take a step outside and wind up right back in." She turned towards Batgirl, continuing to laugh, "And God sent you a very special angel to get you in here alright, didn't he?"

Cassandra wondered for a moment why she had called the man father before he laughed a little himself and replied, "The lord works in mysterious ways Cathy."

"Now when morning comes you'll have to call somebody. I know Snowball won't bring anyone here any trouble, but hospital policy, you know?"

"Of course, of course," he insisted. "No Cathy I'm feeling fine. A few day's rest and I'll be back on my feet… Could you give us a moment?"

"Oh certainly! You just call if you need anything."

The two were soon left alone, the old man turning to Cassandra and saying, "I didn't have much of a chance to thank you properly."

"Why did she call you father?" Cassandra asked.

Ryan smiled, "She's a member of my congregation. My name is George Ryan, Monsignor."

"Mon… Seen… Your?" Cassandra asked, trying to sound the word out, still unsure of its meaning.

"I take it you aren't a Catholic then." He said, still smiling. Cassandra was sure that she knew that word, but was unsure of where, but decided to press on.

"Why did you call the hospital?" She asked next.

"I wanted to be sure those two received care as soon as it could come. I am very glad that you saved me, but I want to be sure they will be out and about again."

This came as a surprise to Cassandra. She had not stayed around after many attacks on the innocents of Gotham, but was sure most of them didn't harbor such good will towards their assailants. "They could have killed you."

"And maybe after tonight they will know they shouldn't do such things again," Ryan insisted. "We all stray from the path sometimes, but we all deserve the chance to find it again."

Cassandra had rarely felt so perplexed by a man's mantra. Most of Gotham thought the criminals of the city below them, a species apart, to be captured and put away forever. Even if he insisted otherwise, sometimes it was hard to believe Bruce didn't sometimes think this way. That the battle on crime was more about caging animals than securing people in the hopes of reform. Cassandra didn't want to linger on these thoughts and quickly said, "I must go."

"Wait!" Ryan said, pointing with his good hand towards the clothes he had come in wearing that had been replaced by hospital scrubs. "My left pocket. Please, I don't have much to offer you, but I hope it is a little token of my appreciation. Snowball and I are so thankful."

Cassandra went to his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a large, beaded necklace, a small T shape at its bottom with a man etched into it.

"Take one of my cards too," Ryan said. "I'd be so happy to see you again, hopefully out of costume next time."

Cassandra pulled out one of his cards, marked, "Monsignor George Ryan. Saint Michael's Cathedral, Gotham City".

"You wouldn't recognize me" Cassandra said.

"That's alright," Ryan replied. "We get newcomers all the time. Maybe I'll just have to treat every one of them like they just saved my life." And he began to laugh again.

Clutching the strange necklace and the card, Cassandra made her way out, perplexed by the man's happiness and methodology, but deciding then she would have to see him again.