THE ELEVATOR PITCH: The World's Best Librarian is also The World's Worst Magician, and now she's...
Child Of Ash(DC SI)
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THE ELEVATOR PITCH: The World's Best Librarian is also The World's Worst Magician, and now she's The World's Most Dispassionate Batgirl.
First and foremost, let's get the thread rules out in the open:
For everyone who doesn't want to read the FAQ but still wants a little more detail:
Child of Ash follows an SI, named Rose Victoria Corcoran, as she stumbles through life, and we start off with her being Batgirl. It's a fun time, and I hope y'all enjoy it with me.
First and foremost, let's get the thread rules out in the open:
Please don't derail the thread by citing specific comic books over details. Comic books contradict themselves and each other constantly, and I'm going to follow in the great DC/Marvel tradition of ignoring everything that my contemporaries and predecessors have written that I find inconvenient to the story I'm trying to tell. If I'm lamenting a lack of answer to a question in the author's notes, and you remember a comic that provides such an answer, then go on ahead, but otherwise let's try to avoid citing comics.
1) I do this for fun, not because of some nebulous desire to improve my craft.
2) The author has two personality disorders from the Dramatic cluster, and handles criticism the way a vase handles a sledgehammer. For the sake of everyone, please try to avoid starting arguments with the author, and present any criticisms you have in as inoffensive and diplomatic a way as you can manage. You don't have to sugarcoat anything, or list something you liked alongside the problems you perceived, but it's better if your criticism is framed as a suggestion rather than a complaint.
3) Just complaining is incredibly unproductive. Try to rephrase what you have so that it doesn't come across as a complaint, if you want it to be taken into account.
4) While I cannot speak for every author, I can speak for myself, and my favorite kind of comment is the long sort, so if you want to but you're not sure how it would be received, go right on ahead and write your long, long comment. Seriously, my ideal comment is basically a fuckin' book report. Other, shorter ones that are just "hey I saw this joke, that was fuckin' hilarious" or something like that are also appreciated, but a book report would make my whole week.
2) The author has two personality disorders from the Dramatic cluster, and handles criticism the way a vase handles a sledgehammer. For the sake of everyone, please try to avoid starting arguments with the author, and present any criticisms you have in as inoffensive and diplomatic a way as you can manage. You don't have to sugarcoat anything, or list something you liked alongside the problems you perceived, but it's better if your criticism is framed as a suggestion rather than a complaint.
3) Just complaining is incredibly unproductive. Try to rephrase what you have so that it doesn't come across as a complaint, if you want it to be taken into account.
4) While I cannot speak for every author, I can speak for myself, and my favorite kind of comment is the long sort, so if you want to but you're not sure how it would be received, go right on ahead and write your long, long comment. Seriously, my ideal comment is basically a fuckin' book report. Other, shorter ones that are just "hey I saw this joke, that was fuckin' hilarious" or something like that are also appreciated, but a book report would make my whole week.
Yes, there is a Discord server. It's actually a pretty happenin' place, and I'm glad I set it up. If you want in on that, here's the link. Fair warning: the server is not Spacebattles, and I will ban you if I personally don't like you. I try to be a friendly, welcoming person, so you probably won't get banned(I've only banned, like, four people ever), but all the same, at least try to be a likeable person on the server.
Q: Where's Gotham?
A: It's basically Detroit. Detroit, Michigan. On the Detroit River, that connects Lake Huron to Lake Erie.
Q: ...Why?
A: Gotham makes more sense to me as an amalgam of Detroit and Chicago than as just "New York but at night." Metropolis is already "New York but during the day," and the actual New York exists in the DC Universe. Do you hear me that is three fucking New Yorks that is way the fuck too many New Yorks. Also, having just looked it up, Detroit is in Wayne County, and I can't fucking pass that up, man.
Q: Okay, fair. But then, where's Metropolis?
A: Eh... I'm gonna say somewhere on the Atlantic coast. The weather's pretty nice. Probably mid-Atlantic, since it is based on New York. Maybe it's Philadelphia? I dunno! I'd like to hear from y'all on this one.
Q: Central City?
A: Man, I have no fucking clue, I've read, like. One Flash comic storyline, and I don't even know if it's land-locked. Uh... I mean, it's called Central City, so maybe it's in the center of America? So... Either Chicago or Dallas, I guess. Probably Chicago if it ever, like, snows in Central City without Weather Wizard or Captain Cold getting involved.
Q: I just looked it up on the Wiki and it's in Missouri.
A: What the fuck man.
Q: Well, I mean, St. Louis is a big city, and it's also in Missouri...
A: Alright, fair enough, I guess.
Q: Which Robin is the current one?
A: Tim Drake, who I've never read a single officially published work with him in.
Q: Are you just... going to make up whatever characterization for him you want?
A: Yeah. I mean, someone DID describe his personality to me? But... yeah, I am definitely going to be making shit up. But that's the beauty of fiction- all of it is made up. This just means a lot of it is getting made up by one person, making it a more cohesive and consistent lie.
Q: Who's going to feature heavily here?
A: Assuming you mean "speaks more than three lines of dialogue," that would be: Batman. Superman. Supergirl. Martha and Jonathan Kent. Zatanna. Jason Blood. John Constantine. Ra's al-Ghul. Talia al-Ghul. Almost all of whom will be supporting characters in the protagonist's story.
Q: This protagonist, your SI- does she know all your comic book knowledge?
A: What comic book knowledge? I just have a general intuition. But, uh... no, no, she doesn't know everything I know about the DC universe. This makes it a lot easier for me to introduce shit in a way that brings up to speed everyone who has no fucking clue who the hell the fucking Penny Plunderer or Professor Zoom is(I still have no clue tbh).
A: It's basically Detroit. Detroit, Michigan. On the Detroit River, that connects Lake Huron to Lake Erie.
Q: ...Why?
A: Gotham makes more sense to me as an amalgam of Detroit and Chicago than as just "New York but at night." Metropolis is already "New York but during the day," and the actual New York exists in the DC Universe. Do you hear me that is three fucking New Yorks that is way the fuck too many New Yorks. Also, having just looked it up, Detroit is in Wayne County, and I can't fucking pass that up, man.
Q: Okay, fair. But then, where's Metropolis?
A: Eh... I'm gonna say somewhere on the Atlantic coast. The weather's pretty nice. Probably mid-Atlantic, since it is based on New York. Maybe it's Philadelphia? I dunno! I'd like to hear from y'all on this one.
Q: Central City?
A: Man, I have no fucking clue, I've read, like. One Flash comic storyline, and I don't even know if it's land-locked. Uh... I mean, it's called Central City, so maybe it's in the center of America? So... Either Chicago or Dallas, I guess. Probably Chicago if it ever, like, snows in Central City without Weather Wizard or Captain Cold getting involved.
Q: I just looked it up on the Wiki and it's in Missouri.
A: What the fuck man.
Q: Well, I mean, St. Louis is a big city, and it's also in Missouri...
A: Alright, fair enough, I guess.
Q: Which Robin is the current one?
A: Tim Drake, who I've never read a single officially published work with him in.
Q: Are you just... going to make up whatever characterization for him you want?
A: Yeah. I mean, someone DID describe his personality to me? But... yeah, I am definitely going to be making shit up. But that's the beauty of fiction- all of it is made up. This just means a lot of it is getting made up by one person, making it a more cohesive and consistent lie.
Q: Who's going to feature heavily here?
A: Assuming you mean "speaks more than three lines of dialogue," that would be: Batman. Superman. Supergirl. Martha and Jonathan Kent. Zatanna. Jason Blood. John Constantine. Ra's al-Ghul. Talia al-Ghul. Almost all of whom will be supporting characters in the protagonist's story.
Q: This protagonist, your SI- does she know all your comic book knowledge?
A: What comic book knowledge? I just have a general intuition. But, uh... no, no, she doesn't know everything I know about the DC universe. This makes it a lot easier for me to introduce shit in a way that brings up to speed everyone who has no fucking clue who the hell the fucking Penny Plunderer or Professor Zoom is(I still have no clue tbh).
For everyone who doesn't want to read the FAQ but still wants a little more detail:
Child of Ash follows an SI, named Rose Victoria Corcoran, as she stumbles through life, and we start off with her being Batgirl. It's a fun time, and I hope y'all enjoy it with me.
Last edited:
Chapter 1: Batgirl Vs The Nine-Hole Ninja
- Location
- Austin, Texas
Chapter 1: Batgirl Vs The Nine-Hole Ninja
By day, my name is Doctor Rose Victoria Corcoran. But by night, I am...
BATGIRL!
Well, no, I'm Batgirl during the day right now, too. Something came up that demanded my attention. With Bruce in a meeting and Tim at school, that left me to deal with this mess.
"Cower in fear!" some douchebag in an obnoxious yellow armored costume yelled, a pair of golf clubs that had handles styled after katanas sheathed on his back, and a modified nerf gun that shot golf balls in his hands. "For I am... The Nine-Hole Ninja!"
He was standing atop a golf cart that lacked a driver, but was still speeding around, so I presume some sort of weird tech thing. Maybe he'd stolen it and a segway and combined the two so he could stand on top of the cart and still control it. Or maybe he'd wired something up himself?
Whatever the case may be, he was careening around the golf course like an asshole, harassing golfers with his golf ball gun, and I had to do something about it. Even if I personally didn't give a shit and wanted to let him keep harassing the rich idiots until the cops showed up, it kind of didn't matter, because I'm Batgirl, and I'm kind of not allowed to just let supervillains do shit like this.
So, I waited in the branches of a pine tree for my chance, for him to drive by. He did, and I fired my grappling gun, latching onto the roof of the golf cart, and held onto the tree very tightly.
The whole roof ripped off of the cart, sending the Nine-Hole Ninja tumbling to the ground, giving me a chance to drop to the ground and begin stalking towards him.
"You!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet. "Not important enough for Batman, am I? Hm? I'll-"
"No, you're not," I said, lunging forward and slugging him in his carelessly unarmored throat. "You're a shithead with a big RC car and a hacked Nerf gun. You're barely worth my time. You're not even trying to steal anything, you're just being annoying."
He was too busy choking on his own throat to respond, and I punched him again, this time in the jaw, laying him out flat.
"Dumbass," I muttered, pulling his glove off. It was, apparently, part of a gauntlet, as the forearm piece came off with it. Under what turned out to be cut-and-folded corrugated plastic, like what's used for campaign signs, was a fair bit of surprisingly-well-soldered electronics, which I presumed controlled the golf cart. I stuck my hand inside, annoyed that my hands seemed to be bigger than his, but still managed to command the golf cart back to me. "What even inspired you to try this, anyhow?"
He was too busy lying on the ground, quietly groaning in pain, to answer. I sighed, and instead just took his weapons, stashing them in the golf cart's back seat. Then it occurred to me that, even though he was now disarmed and no longer a threat, it was still possible he'd be able to get up and run away before the police showed up, and I had no desire to fight this dumbass again. So, I pulled out some generic zip-ties("Not everything I own is bat-themed, you know.") and fastened his ankles to each other, then bound his wrists behind his back.
"Now, let's see who you really are," I said, pulling his helmet off. "...Who the fuck are you?" As I should've expected, I, someone who only moved to Gotham like a month ago, should not have expected to recognize anyone in this town for even a moment. Fuck, I didn't even know Batman existed until I got here.
Whatever. I'm keeping this dumbass' helmet. It's going in the Batcave along with the rest of this shit.
---
"What happened today?" Batman asked as he entered the Batcave, while I was typing up a report to go in the case files.
"A supervillain named The Nine-Hole Ninja showed up at the East Gotham Country Club golf course and harassed the golfers with a hacked golf cart and a nerf gun that shoots golf balls," I said. "I have with me his modified golf clubs, his helmet, his golf cart, and his nerf gun. Figured you'd want to take a look at it."
"And the Ninja himself?"
"Tied him up for the police to deal with."
"Good work. Take a nap after you're done with that- there's a party tonight in the Manor and I need you running security."
"Got it," I said. "Anyone you're expecting to show up and cause trouble?"
"Not in particular, no, but it never hurts to be careful."
"Careful is not a word I would use to describe you," I said. "You took me on as Batgirl after I admitted outright that I used to be associated with the League of Assassins."
"You were only part of a splinter group that had a schism you led due to not wanting to associate with the League anymore," Batman said. "Besides, do you know how hard it is to find a librarian with seven years experience and a doctorate who is also physically and mentally up to the task of fighting crime? That's a resume, not a rap sheet."
"You're lucky I needed the money," I muttered. "Fighting grown-ass men prancing about in corrugated plastic armor, calling themselves The Nine-Hole Ninja is beneath my dignity. I'm the Child of Ash, damnit! Master of the Eternal Flame! Grandmaster of the Red Fan!"
"And just like before, now you're in a hole in the ground, organizing someone's esoteric archives," Batman said.
"At least then I was afforded authority and respect," I said. "Now I'm Batgirl, cleaning up all the messes you and Robin think you're above dealing with. It's demeaning! I signed on for library duties, not punching D-list shitheads!"
"What, exactly, makes sorting books less demeaning than fighting crime?" Batman asked.
"Running a library is a specialized skillset I have spent every day of my life developing since I was ten," I said. "Punching petty shitheads in the face, meanwhile, is something you have made literal twelve year olds do."
"If you don't want to do this anymore, I can switch you over to re-organizing the manor's library," Batman offered. He was very aware that the threat of homelessness and starvation could be very coercive, and didn't want to wield that threat against me. What with me being a ninja with keys to his house and all that, and him also having morals and shit.
"Meh. I'm just bitching," I muttered. "Better to bitch about the shitty, unmemorable villains I deal with than to bitch about, uh. Some other, more unpleasant things I've recently dealt with."
There was a pause, before he sat down in the nearest chair. "Do you need to-"
"No, I'd rather not," I said. "I want to just... move on with my life. I don't live there anymore, I'm more than a thousand miles away, and one benefit of what happened is that there's nobody left to come after me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to finish writing this."
---
"Alright, whelps, look alive," I said.
"Quit calling us whelps, you're only a year older than us," Tim complained.
"I'm also a doctor, and I have administrative experience, and Bruce explicitly put me in charge," I listed off. "So no, whelps you two are, and whelps you two shall remain, even when you're old and wrinkly like an old bedsheet. Now, Tim, you'll be watching the cameras. When you see something suspicious, tell me, and I'll use my little magic trick to take a closer look. Steph, you're... mostly just going to be hanging out at the party. Chatting with the flock of young women that congregates around Bruce like ducklings under an umbrella to enjoy the benefits of his creep-repulsion. However, when I see something that you need to deal with, I'm going to send you instructions to deal with it via earpiece."
"Oooh, do I get a cover identity?" Stephanie asked.
"You're Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake's girlfriend. He's unable to make it to the party, but you're not, so here you are, enjoying yourself, and probably having to settle some sort of friendly non-debate over whether or not Jenny's cat, Chairman Meow, looks like a goblin that sells garlic from a rickety wooden cart. Tim is glad you're enjoying yourself, and you're only a little mad that Papa Wayne is insisting on chaperoning you."
"Please don't ever call him that again," Tim said, green around the gills.
"Batdad?" I proposed.
"Stop."
"Padre de los Marcielago."
"That's French for 'Batdad,' isn't it?"
"That's Spanish you ignorant slut."
"Hey now," Stephanie said, planting her hands firmly on her hips. Tim perked up, eager for his girlfriend to come to his defense. "Some of my best friends are sluts, and they don't deserve this kind of trash talk."
"That's what you take issue with?" Tim asked.
"I won't let my friends be treated poorly just because they like sex," Stephanie said primly, folding her arms and liting her nose.
"I'm being treated poorly right now!"
"Yeah, but we're not friends."
"Not fr- is this about the Count Chocula thing?"
"More than a little, yes."
"Steph, you now have a new job," I said. "In addition to your previous duties, I need you to, for as long as you can, keep me from learning about the Count Chocula thing, or why you'd be mad about it."
"Aye aye, captain."
"Now, get to work, you two. I'm gonna go see about getting everyone some lightly stimulant-laced drinks to stay alert. I know it's a wednesday night, but this is Batman we're talking about, inconvenient timing has never stopped anyone around him."
"Doctor Corcoran?" Alfred asked, poking his head into the room. "An acquaintance of Master Wayne is here to see you."
"Who?" I asked, before Alfred stepped in, followed by the guest. He was a short man, maybe five foot six, and looked to be in his forties.
"My name," the man said, "is Jason Blood. And like yourself, I am a wizard."
---Author's Notes---
We're just jumping right the hell in, folks. Confused? It's alright, I promise, I'm gonna explain a lot of this next chapter.
By day, my name is Doctor Rose Victoria Corcoran. But by night, I am...
BATGIRL!
Well, no, I'm Batgirl during the day right now, too. Something came up that demanded my attention. With Bruce in a meeting and Tim at school, that left me to deal with this mess.
"Cower in fear!" some douchebag in an obnoxious yellow armored costume yelled, a pair of golf clubs that had handles styled after katanas sheathed on his back, and a modified nerf gun that shot golf balls in his hands. "For I am... The Nine-Hole Ninja!"
He was standing atop a golf cart that lacked a driver, but was still speeding around, so I presume some sort of weird tech thing. Maybe he'd stolen it and a segway and combined the two so he could stand on top of the cart and still control it. Or maybe he'd wired something up himself?
Whatever the case may be, he was careening around the golf course like an asshole, harassing golfers with his golf ball gun, and I had to do something about it. Even if I personally didn't give a shit and wanted to let him keep harassing the rich idiots until the cops showed up, it kind of didn't matter, because I'm Batgirl, and I'm kind of not allowed to just let supervillains do shit like this.
So, I waited in the branches of a pine tree for my chance, for him to drive by. He did, and I fired my grappling gun, latching onto the roof of the golf cart, and held onto the tree very tightly.
The whole roof ripped off of the cart, sending the Nine-Hole Ninja tumbling to the ground, giving me a chance to drop to the ground and begin stalking towards him.
"You!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet. "Not important enough for Batman, am I? Hm? I'll-"
"No, you're not," I said, lunging forward and slugging him in his carelessly unarmored throat. "You're a shithead with a big RC car and a hacked Nerf gun. You're barely worth my time. You're not even trying to steal anything, you're just being annoying."
He was too busy choking on his own throat to respond, and I punched him again, this time in the jaw, laying him out flat.
"Dumbass," I muttered, pulling his glove off. It was, apparently, part of a gauntlet, as the forearm piece came off with it. Under what turned out to be cut-and-folded corrugated plastic, like what's used for campaign signs, was a fair bit of surprisingly-well-soldered electronics, which I presumed controlled the golf cart. I stuck my hand inside, annoyed that my hands seemed to be bigger than his, but still managed to command the golf cart back to me. "What even inspired you to try this, anyhow?"
He was too busy lying on the ground, quietly groaning in pain, to answer. I sighed, and instead just took his weapons, stashing them in the golf cart's back seat. Then it occurred to me that, even though he was now disarmed and no longer a threat, it was still possible he'd be able to get up and run away before the police showed up, and I had no desire to fight this dumbass again. So, I pulled out some generic zip-ties("Not everything I own is bat-themed, you know.") and fastened his ankles to each other, then bound his wrists behind his back.
"Now, let's see who you really are," I said, pulling his helmet off. "...Who the fuck are you?" As I should've expected, I, someone who only moved to Gotham like a month ago, should not have expected to recognize anyone in this town for even a moment. Fuck, I didn't even know Batman existed until I got here.
Whatever. I'm keeping this dumbass' helmet. It's going in the Batcave along with the rest of this shit.
---
"What happened today?" Batman asked as he entered the Batcave, while I was typing up a report to go in the case files.
"A supervillain named The Nine-Hole Ninja showed up at the East Gotham Country Club golf course and harassed the golfers with a hacked golf cart and a nerf gun that shoots golf balls," I said. "I have with me his modified golf clubs, his helmet, his golf cart, and his nerf gun. Figured you'd want to take a look at it."
"And the Ninja himself?"
"Tied him up for the police to deal with."
"Good work. Take a nap after you're done with that- there's a party tonight in the Manor and I need you running security."
"Got it," I said. "Anyone you're expecting to show up and cause trouble?"
"Not in particular, no, but it never hurts to be careful."
"Careful is not a word I would use to describe you," I said. "You took me on as Batgirl after I admitted outright that I used to be associated with the League of Assassins."
"You were only part of a splinter group that had a schism you led due to not wanting to associate with the League anymore," Batman said. "Besides, do you know how hard it is to find a librarian with seven years experience and a doctorate who is also physically and mentally up to the task of fighting crime? That's a resume, not a rap sheet."
"You're lucky I needed the money," I muttered. "Fighting grown-ass men prancing about in corrugated plastic armor, calling themselves The Nine-Hole Ninja is beneath my dignity. I'm the Child of Ash, damnit! Master of the Eternal Flame! Grandmaster of the Red Fan!"
"And just like before, now you're in a hole in the ground, organizing someone's esoteric archives," Batman said.
"At least then I was afforded authority and respect," I said. "Now I'm Batgirl, cleaning up all the messes you and Robin think you're above dealing with. It's demeaning! I signed on for library duties, not punching D-list shitheads!"
"What, exactly, makes sorting books less demeaning than fighting crime?" Batman asked.
"Running a library is a specialized skillset I have spent every day of my life developing since I was ten," I said. "Punching petty shitheads in the face, meanwhile, is something you have made literal twelve year olds do."
"If you don't want to do this anymore, I can switch you over to re-organizing the manor's library," Batman offered. He was very aware that the threat of homelessness and starvation could be very coercive, and didn't want to wield that threat against me. What with me being a ninja with keys to his house and all that, and him also having morals and shit.
"Meh. I'm just bitching," I muttered. "Better to bitch about the shitty, unmemorable villains I deal with than to bitch about, uh. Some other, more unpleasant things I've recently dealt with."
There was a pause, before he sat down in the nearest chair. "Do you need to-"
"No, I'd rather not," I said. "I want to just... move on with my life. I don't live there anymore, I'm more than a thousand miles away, and one benefit of what happened is that there's nobody left to come after me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to finish writing this."
---
"Alright, whelps, look alive," I said.
"Quit calling us whelps, you're only a year older than us," Tim complained.
"I'm also a doctor, and I have administrative experience, and Bruce explicitly put me in charge," I listed off. "So no, whelps you two are, and whelps you two shall remain, even when you're old and wrinkly like an old bedsheet. Now, Tim, you'll be watching the cameras. When you see something suspicious, tell me, and I'll use my little magic trick to take a closer look. Steph, you're... mostly just going to be hanging out at the party. Chatting with the flock of young women that congregates around Bruce like ducklings under an umbrella to enjoy the benefits of his creep-repulsion. However, when I see something that you need to deal with, I'm going to send you instructions to deal with it via earpiece."
"Oooh, do I get a cover identity?" Stephanie asked.
"You're Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake's girlfriend. He's unable to make it to the party, but you're not, so here you are, enjoying yourself, and probably having to settle some sort of friendly non-debate over whether or not Jenny's cat, Chairman Meow, looks like a goblin that sells garlic from a rickety wooden cart. Tim is glad you're enjoying yourself, and you're only a little mad that Papa Wayne is insisting on chaperoning you."
"Please don't ever call him that again," Tim said, green around the gills.
"Batdad?" I proposed.
"Stop."
"Padre de los Marcielago."
"That's French for 'Batdad,' isn't it?"
"That's Spanish you ignorant slut."
"Hey now," Stephanie said, planting her hands firmly on her hips. Tim perked up, eager for his girlfriend to come to his defense. "Some of my best friends are sluts, and they don't deserve this kind of trash talk."
"That's what you take issue with?" Tim asked.
"I won't let my friends be treated poorly just because they like sex," Stephanie said primly, folding her arms and liting her nose.
"I'm being treated poorly right now!"
"Yeah, but we're not friends."
"Not fr- is this about the Count Chocula thing?"
"More than a little, yes."
"Steph, you now have a new job," I said. "In addition to your previous duties, I need you to, for as long as you can, keep me from learning about the Count Chocula thing, or why you'd be mad about it."
"Aye aye, captain."
"Now, get to work, you two. I'm gonna go see about getting everyone some lightly stimulant-laced drinks to stay alert. I know it's a wednesday night, but this is Batman we're talking about, inconvenient timing has never stopped anyone around him."
"Doctor Corcoran?" Alfred asked, poking his head into the room. "An acquaintance of Master Wayne is here to see you."
"Who?" I asked, before Alfred stepped in, followed by the guest. He was a short man, maybe five foot six, and looked to be in his forties.
"My name," the man said, "is Jason Blood. And like yourself, I am a wizard."
---Author's Notes---
We're just jumping right the hell in, folks. Confused? It's alright, I promise, I'm gonna explain a lot of this next chapter.
Chapter 2: Blood And Ash
- Location
- Austin, Texas
Chapter 2: Blood And Ash
"Alright, you two are gonna have to get ready without me," I said. "I've only been Batgirl two weeks, y'all still know how to handle that. Now... Jason Blood, that's an amazing name you've got there, but I'm afraid this is the first time I've heard it."
I led him out of the room, and we began walking the halls of Wayne Manor aimlessly. I used a little magic trick to keep our conversation private, without blocking my ability to hear things other than him.
"I am the immortal host of the demon Etrigan," Jason explained. "I have walked this earth since the seventh century Anno Domini-"
"So that's why you're a manlet," I said. Bullying men for their height was always fun for me, being a 6'2 lesbian.
"...I have never heard that word before, and I don't think I like it," Jason muttered. "At any rate. I am an expert in the occult, most specifically demonology, but also a wide smattering of other areas. Our... mutual acquaintance... has asked me to speak with you. Apparently you are a wizard?"
"A little bit of one," I admitted. "I have... exactly three spells I can cast, and I don't use them particularly often because as Doctor Corcoran I don't need them, and as Batgirl I don't want anyone to know I have them. The spells are short-range teleportation, controlling air to silence any and all sounds I make- which I'm using right now to keep our conversation private- and short-range scrying."
"Your spells seem rather... narrowly-focused," Jason said. "Tell me, why is it that these are the three spells you know?"
"I was born into the Red Fan," I said. "A splinter cell of the League of Assassins, meant to develop magic ninjas. It worked, in case you're wondering."
"Moving silently, seeing through walls, and walking through them as well," Jason mused. "Yes, that all makes a great deal of sense. Tell me, what of the rest of the Red Fan? Are there others such as yourself?"
"Not among the living," I said. "My father was the Grandmaster, and so I learned leadership and administration at an early age, but when I decided that the League of Assassins and their eco-terrorism genocide plans could suck the farts out of my ass with a straw-"
"Colorful," Jason said, grinning a little.
"-this led to, uh... a bit of an internal schism that may or may not have killed us all. It's just that the Eternal Flame refused to let me stay dead." I coughed, then cleared my throat. "Anyhow. What did Batman want you to talk to me about?"
"As a favor to him, I'm here to offer to teach you magic," Jason said. "Nearly fifteen hundred years have I walked this earth, and in that time, I'd like to think I picked up a few things. And from you, it seems I'll pick up a few more."
"Perhaps," I said. "Tell you what- do you know how to use a computer?"
"Very well," Jason said. "I am a wizard. Advances in informational technology are always personally relevant."
"Well, give me a while- maybe a month or three- to sort Batman's things out, and then I'll rebuild my scanning rig so we can digitize your own collection of magical tomes. In exchange for copies of such, I will give you a copy of the Red Fan's library."
"That sounds like an excellent deal to me," Jason said. "And in exchange for explaining to me just what the hell the Eternal Flame is, I will teach you enough magic that you can pursue the study on your own with the books I gave you."
"It's a deal, Mr. Blood." I offered my hand, to shake on it.
---
"FOOLS!" he yelled. "None can flee the wrath of... GOLF-CART GENGHIS!"
This was just getting ridiculous.
Golf-Cart Genghis was an absolutely ridiculous name, and frankly his modus operandi was pretty ridiculous, too, but compared to the Nine-Hole Ninja, he was a noticeable step up. For one, he seemed to have an actual reason to be doing what he's doing- he was rounding up all the rich people golfing, admittedly using a herd of self-driving golf-carts with spikes on the wheels and the front, and probably intended to take their wallets and keys once he had them where he wanted them.
Still, there were massive problems with this plan, including "Self-driving golf carts? Really?" and "Holy fucking shit why the hell did you think this would work even a little bit."
Well, time to deck yet another grown-ass man. Fortunately, after the last time someone used a golf cart to cause trouble, I prepared for it happening again. In Gotham and the surrounding area, due to some lobbying on Bruce's part, gas-powered golf carts were banned, and all golf courses instead furnished a fleet of electric carts. Now, while I doubt that Genghis stole all these carts from the course, I also doubt he imported them from out of town. That meant they were probably electric, too. And all that is leading up to the fact that Bruce had, upon request, given me a rifle that shot EMPs.
"Who dares stand against the might of-" Genghis began, before I popped his own cart's tires with a pair of throwing knives, which then acted like a parking boot. He was flung off the top of his cart, landing on his face, and I gracefully landed on the ground, descending from the tree I'd been hiding in. I'll stop hiding in trees when I stop needing to. "You! Batgirl!" he yelled, clambering to his feet. He was, unlike the Nine-Hole Ninja, wearing a costume that didn't fill me with soul-crushing shame- he actually looked like a Mongol Warrior. Even if he did wield a bow styled to look like it was made of golf clubs. And the arrows were also shaped like golf clubs. Okay there was a little shame. "You think you have defeated me, hm?"
"We're on the ground, you're wielding the dumbest weapon in the world, and I have both of my hands free," I said. "Yes, I do think I've already won. Are you going to accept that, or am I going to have to convince you?" I slammed my right fist into my left palm, glaring at him from underneath the white acrylic globes of my mask's eye-covers.
"Start talking, little girl," Genghis said to a woman who was taller than him.
He quickly nocked and drew back a golf club arrow, and I was already running, my left hand flexing open and preparing. The moment he loosed the arrow, my hand was already in position, and within moments I was now holding a golf club, which I used to smack the bow out of his hand now that I was in range.
I'd already won, but as punishment for wasting my goddamn time, I still kneed him in the balls.
"Call off your golf carts or I'll break your legs," I said, shoving him onto his back as he writhed in pain. "You've got ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven-"
"They're off, they're off!" he said, tapping a remote built into his left bracer. "Owww..."
"I don't believe in coincidences," I continued, planting my heel on his shoulder and grinding it in. As Batgirl, I had a special pair of asskicking boots, where, instead of pitiful 'rubber' soles, I had a horseshoe on the toes and the heel, with hobnails scattered throughout the middle. They were horrifying and nasty and everything a pair of asskicking boots should be. If I wanted to go easy on someone, I'd just punch them in the face. Kicking and stomping is reserved for when I really want it to hurt. "Two golf-themed villains in the same week? Someone's behind this. Tell me who, and I'll let you go."
"I- I don't know who!" he pleaded. "I got the job from a guy who called himself Mr. Johnson, he was wearing a ski mask and he had a briefcase, you know?! He said he represented someone who wanted the golf courses in Gotham to go out of business!"
"How many more of you are there?" I asked.
"I don't know! The Nine-Hole Ninja was news to me, too!"
I frowned. "Well, a deal's a deal."
"Thank you, I-"
"You didn't tell me, so I'm zip-tying you and leaving you for the police."
"No!"
"Yes, actually. Now be quiet, or I'm going to hit you again."
---
"Who would want to put golf courses out of business?" Batman asked, frowning.
"Poison Ivy," I said immediately as I wrote up the incident report. I'd taken two of the golf carts with me- one to stand on its own as a memento, and another to have its self-driving circuitry ripped out and stuck into the other golf cart, the one I'd taken from the Nine-Hole Ninja. At some point, that golf cart would become a new Batmobile, except infinitely shittier because it was cobbled together by a seventeen year old library ninja who didn't know what the hell she was doing. "You know how much fucking water a golf course uses? How much otherwise-arable land gets used up by even just a nine-hole course? How much gas is burnt keeping that grass cut? Fuck, even I want golf courses to go out of business."
"Good work," Batman said.
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," I said. "You're a detective, and you live here. No way in hell you somehow didn't realize that Poison Ivy might have problems with golf as a general whole."
"To do your job properly, you're going to have to become something of a detective, yourself," Batman said.
"I'm enough of one already," I said. "In fact, I've got a case file organizational system worked out already, now it's just a matter of switching over to it."
"Walk me through it, then."
"Top-level categories: case files, dossiers, reference. Reference is books or other sources you consult for advice. Dossiers is... well, should be obvious, and they're sorted by threat level, frequency, and familiarity. Profiles of people and case files they're tied to, sorted by confirmed, strongly suspected, weakly suspected, and previously suspected. Case files is split into three categories- reports, analyses, and evidence. Evidence is shit like the golf carts, or the giant penny, or the T-Rex, and they've all got associated case numbers. Reports is the thing I'm writing up right here, and they've got associated case numbers, too, along with multiple dates- date of report, date of Bat involvement, date of origin, date of resolution. There's also a few sections for tags- things like 'sports,' 'environment,' et cetera. The sections are confirmed, suspected, and previously suspected. Everything is backed up digitally, and there's a digital catalog for ease of use, but there's also a physical backup utilizing a disc-bound notebook containing lists of every tag in use and what files fit under each individual tag." I wracked my brain to figure out what I was leaving out, and couldn't think of anything. Just to be safe, though... "So, any questions?"
"...Is that written down somewhere?" Batman asked. "And how much longer do you plan on staying?"
"...Eh, maybe another month or so," I said. "Someone still has to go through all these damn case files and sort them out for you.
---Author's Notes---
"Why is Batgirl also a librarian?" At first, it was because of a stupid joke someone else made, which you can read here. I thought this was funny at first, and then realized "oh shit that's actually a really good plot hook." It has already provided a good excuse for Rose, who isn't much of a crime-fighter by nature, to become Batgirl and go fight supervillains anyways, and it's also provided a good excuse for her to shed the cowl and get wrapped up in eldritch mysteries instead of a warm blanket at home, wishing she didn't live in Fucking Gotham. And I'm still not done using that hook to get Rose into shit.
"Alright, you two are gonna have to get ready without me," I said. "I've only been Batgirl two weeks, y'all still know how to handle that. Now... Jason Blood, that's an amazing name you've got there, but I'm afraid this is the first time I've heard it."
I led him out of the room, and we began walking the halls of Wayne Manor aimlessly. I used a little magic trick to keep our conversation private, without blocking my ability to hear things other than him.
"I am the immortal host of the demon Etrigan," Jason explained. "I have walked this earth since the seventh century Anno Domini-"
"So that's why you're a manlet," I said. Bullying men for their height was always fun for me, being a 6'2 lesbian.
"...I have never heard that word before, and I don't think I like it," Jason muttered. "At any rate. I am an expert in the occult, most specifically demonology, but also a wide smattering of other areas. Our... mutual acquaintance... has asked me to speak with you. Apparently you are a wizard?"
"A little bit of one," I admitted. "I have... exactly three spells I can cast, and I don't use them particularly often because as Doctor Corcoran I don't need them, and as Batgirl I don't want anyone to know I have them. The spells are short-range teleportation, controlling air to silence any and all sounds I make- which I'm using right now to keep our conversation private- and short-range scrying."
"Your spells seem rather... narrowly-focused," Jason said. "Tell me, why is it that these are the three spells you know?"
"I was born into the Red Fan," I said. "A splinter cell of the League of Assassins, meant to develop magic ninjas. It worked, in case you're wondering."
"Moving silently, seeing through walls, and walking through them as well," Jason mused. "Yes, that all makes a great deal of sense. Tell me, what of the rest of the Red Fan? Are there others such as yourself?"
"Not among the living," I said. "My father was the Grandmaster, and so I learned leadership and administration at an early age, but when I decided that the League of Assassins and their eco-terrorism genocide plans could suck the farts out of my ass with a straw-"
"Colorful," Jason said, grinning a little.
"-this led to, uh... a bit of an internal schism that may or may not have killed us all. It's just that the Eternal Flame refused to let me stay dead." I coughed, then cleared my throat. "Anyhow. What did Batman want you to talk to me about?"
"As a favor to him, I'm here to offer to teach you magic," Jason said. "Nearly fifteen hundred years have I walked this earth, and in that time, I'd like to think I picked up a few things. And from you, it seems I'll pick up a few more."
"Perhaps," I said. "Tell you what- do you know how to use a computer?"
"Very well," Jason said. "I am a wizard. Advances in informational technology are always personally relevant."
"Well, give me a while- maybe a month or three- to sort Batman's things out, and then I'll rebuild my scanning rig so we can digitize your own collection of magical tomes. In exchange for copies of such, I will give you a copy of the Red Fan's library."
"That sounds like an excellent deal to me," Jason said. "And in exchange for explaining to me just what the hell the Eternal Flame is, I will teach you enough magic that you can pursue the study on your own with the books I gave you."
"It's a deal, Mr. Blood." I offered my hand, to shake on it.
---
"FOOLS!" he yelled. "None can flee the wrath of... GOLF-CART GENGHIS!"
This was just getting ridiculous.
Golf-Cart Genghis was an absolutely ridiculous name, and frankly his modus operandi was pretty ridiculous, too, but compared to the Nine-Hole Ninja, he was a noticeable step up. For one, he seemed to have an actual reason to be doing what he's doing- he was rounding up all the rich people golfing, admittedly using a herd of self-driving golf-carts with spikes on the wheels and the front, and probably intended to take their wallets and keys once he had them where he wanted them.
Still, there were massive problems with this plan, including "Self-driving golf carts? Really?" and "Holy fucking shit why the hell did you think this would work even a little bit."
Well, time to deck yet another grown-ass man. Fortunately, after the last time someone used a golf cart to cause trouble, I prepared for it happening again. In Gotham and the surrounding area, due to some lobbying on Bruce's part, gas-powered golf carts were banned, and all golf courses instead furnished a fleet of electric carts. Now, while I doubt that Genghis stole all these carts from the course, I also doubt he imported them from out of town. That meant they were probably electric, too. And all that is leading up to the fact that Bruce had, upon request, given me a rifle that shot EMPs.
"Who dares stand against the might of-" Genghis began, before I popped his own cart's tires with a pair of throwing knives, which then acted like a parking boot. He was flung off the top of his cart, landing on his face, and I gracefully landed on the ground, descending from the tree I'd been hiding in. I'll stop hiding in trees when I stop needing to. "You! Batgirl!" he yelled, clambering to his feet. He was, unlike the Nine-Hole Ninja, wearing a costume that didn't fill me with soul-crushing shame- he actually looked like a Mongol Warrior. Even if he did wield a bow styled to look like it was made of golf clubs. And the arrows were also shaped like golf clubs. Okay there was a little shame. "You think you have defeated me, hm?"
"We're on the ground, you're wielding the dumbest weapon in the world, and I have both of my hands free," I said. "Yes, I do think I've already won. Are you going to accept that, or am I going to have to convince you?" I slammed my right fist into my left palm, glaring at him from underneath the white acrylic globes of my mask's eye-covers.
"Start talking, little girl," Genghis said to a woman who was taller than him.
He quickly nocked and drew back a golf club arrow, and I was already running, my left hand flexing open and preparing. The moment he loosed the arrow, my hand was already in position, and within moments I was now holding a golf club, which I used to smack the bow out of his hand now that I was in range.
I'd already won, but as punishment for wasting my goddamn time, I still kneed him in the balls.
"Call off your golf carts or I'll break your legs," I said, shoving him onto his back as he writhed in pain. "You've got ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven-"
"They're off, they're off!" he said, tapping a remote built into his left bracer. "Owww..."
"I don't believe in coincidences," I continued, planting my heel on his shoulder and grinding it in. As Batgirl, I had a special pair of asskicking boots, where, instead of pitiful 'rubber' soles, I had a horseshoe on the toes and the heel, with hobnails scattered throughout the middle. They were horrifying and nasty and everything a pair of asskicking boots should be. If I wanted to go easy on someone, I'd just punch them in the face. Kicking and stomping is reserved for when I really want it to hurt. "Two golf-themed villains in the same week? Someone's behind this. Tell me who, and I'll let you go."
"I- I don't know who!" he pleaded. "I got the job from a guy who called himself Mr. Johnson, he was wearing a ski mask and he had a briefcase, you know?! He said he represented someone who wanted the golf courses in Gotham to go out of business!"
"How many more of you are there?" I asked.
"I don't know! The Nine-Hole Ninja was news to me, too!"
I frowned. "Well, a deal's a deal."
"Thank you, I-"
"You didn't tell me, so I'm zip-tying you and leaving you for the police."
"No!"
"Yes, actually. Now be quiet, or I'm going to hit you again."
---
"Who would want to put golf courses out of business?" Batman asked, frowning.
"Poison Ivy," I said immediately as I wrote up the incident report. I'd taken two of the golf carts with me- one to stand on its own as a memento, and another to have its self-driving circuitry ripped out and stuck into the other golf cart, the one I'd taken from the Nine-Hole Ninja. At some point, that golf cart would become a new Batmobile, except infinitely shittier because it was cobbled together by a seventeen year old library ninja who didn't know what the hell she was doing. "You know how much fucking water a golf course uses? How much otherwise-arable land gets used up by even just a nine-hole course? How much gas is burnt keeping that grass cut? Fuck, even I want golf courses to go out of business."
"Good work," Batman said.
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," I said. "You're a detective, and you live here. No way in hell you somehow didn't realize that Poison Ivy might have problems with golf as a general whole."
"To do your job properly, you're going to have to become something of a detective, yourself," Batman said.
"I'm enough of one already," I said. "In fact, I've got a case file organizational system worked out already, now it's just a matter of switching over to it."
"Walk me through it, then."
"Top-level categories: case files, dossiers, reference. Reference is books or other sources you consult for advice. Dossiers is... well, should be obvious, and they're sorted by threat level, frequency, and familiarity. Profiles of people and case files they're tied to, sorted by confirmed, strongly suspected, weakly suspected, and previously suspected. Case files is split into three categories- reports, analyses, and evidence. Evidence is shit like the golf carts, or the giant penny, or the T-Rex, and they've all got associated case numbers. Reports is the thing I'm writing up right here, and they've got associated case numbers, too, along with multiple dates- date of report, date of Bat involvement, date of origin, date of resolution. There's also a few sections for tags- things like 'sports,' 'environment,' et cetera. The sections are confirmed, suspected, and previously suspected. Everything is backed up digitally, and there's a digital catalog for ease of use, but there's also a physical backup utilizing a disc-bound notebook containing lists of every tag in use and what files fit under each individual tag." I wracked my brain to figure out what I was leaving out, and couldn't think of anything. Just to be safe, though... "So, any questions?"
"...Is that written down somewhere?" Batman asked. "And how much longer do you plan on staying?"
"...Eh, maybe another month or so," I said. "Someone still has to go through all these damn case files and sort them out for you.
---Author's Notes---
"Why is Batgirl also a librarian?" At first, it was because of a stupid joke someone else made, which you can read here. I thought this was funny at first, and then realized "oh shit that's actually a really good plot hook." It has already provided a good excuse for Rose, who isn't much of a crime-fighter by nature, to become Batgirl and go fight supervillains anyways, and it's also provided a good excuse for her to shed the cowl and get wrapped up in eldritch mysteries instead of a warm blanket at home, wishing she didn't live in Fucking Gotham. And I'm still not done using that hook to get Rose into shit.
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- Location
- Ontario, Canada
murciélago in spanish
- Location
- Seville, Spain
- Pronouns
- they/them
Contextually, "murciélagos": it's the plural.
Anyway, when I read "a librarian batgirl" I thought it was Barbara Gordon (she is one), but this... seems also interesting, so I'll be here watching.
