Barbara Gordon/Batgirl<br/><br/>She hated The Narrows.  The tenements squeezed together so tight that the sun didn't stand a chance of piercing through. Even on those rare breaks from Gotham's dreary daily pall.  If she had her way, she would tear it down.  All of it.  The ratty firetraps.  The cheap bars on every corner.  The dens and dives and the drug houses.  The only thing that thrived in The Narrows was poverty.  And hopelessness.  And crime...<br/><br/>A woman's scream ripped apart the quiet of the night.  She was moving.  Like a wraith.  Her cape whipping behind her as she leapt off the rooftop.  No fear, no hesitation as in one smooth, swift motion her hand reached for the grapnel hooked to her utility belt.  Her arm outstretched, she fired a line to the next building in mid-flight.  The cord pulled tight, catapulting her in an accelerating arc, carrying her up and up until she detached the cable.  Freefalling, she fired another line, repeating the process again and again, traveling the tightly packed skyline like a bird of prey.  Her black silhouette hidden in the night.<br/><br/>Finally, she saw it.  The alleyway.  The woman on the ground, her blouse torn.  Her fishnets ripped.  The creep responsible pressed against a brick wall.  A wicked looking knife at his feet in a dirty puddle of water.  Trembling, pleading for his life...<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">$#@!!  Just what I need!</span><br/><br/>The red helmet, glinting in the flickering street light, was the first thing that caught her notice.  The glint of the Desert Eagles a close second.  He held one in each hand.  The .50 caliber slugs would tear through her bodysuit, ballistic protection or not.  She had no idea how psychotic Jason was these days.  Crazy enough to take a shot at her?  It was clear that the creep he had cornered against the wall didn't stand a chance.  For a moment, she was tempted to let justice take it's course.<span style="font-style: italic">No. That's not justice.</span>She dropped, her arms pressed against her sides before suddenly outstretching, her cape flaring, catching the updraft and cutting her speed.  She landed in a crouch, two batarangs appearing in her hand for the briefest of moments before they were flung at the twin automatics being pointed at the whimpering creep's head...