In the Beginning

I used to always wonder how crime fighters got their start, how they decided to battle evil, why they did what they did. People like The Flash, The Green Arrow, Hell, even Superman all fascinated me, both with and without their powers. But the most inspiring of all superheroes to me had always been good old Batman, mostly because his home turf was Gotham City, where I had lived all my life. I'd always looked up to the Caped Crusader, but mostly it was his motivation that I wanted to know. What made the Bat tick? What went on in the Dark Knight's head?

But of course, I wasn't anyone special so it wasn't like the opportunity to interview Batman would come up anytime soon. The emphasis in that sentence should be I wasn't anyone special, because now I'm important. Now I'm worthy of mentioning. Now I'm on the front page, sharing the headline with Batman. I wasn't famous as myself, obviously. A regular kid wasn't going to make the news. But a superhero kid, that's something to write about.

And it just so happened I knew a superhero kid who wasn't Robin, Boy Wonder. Quite the opposite, in fact. The superhero is me.

The path to my becoming Owlet was long, winding, and quite honestly painful. The years that led up to Owlet's appearance tested me more than I could've thought possible. Perhaps I'll start in the beginning, so this all makes sense…

My name is Mona Ryder and I'm a normal kid. I go to school, I eat cereal, I tie my shoes, I breathe air. Need any more proof? Normal kids usually have a family though, and a family is the only thing I'm lacking. You see, I've got a rather unique story to that.

My parents were brilliant scientists, dedicated to giving humans the same abilities as animals. They wanted swimmers to be able to get up to speeds of a shark or a runner to be as fast as a cheetah. My parents conducted countless experiments on willing volunteers with hundreds of positive results. But not everybody agreed with my parent's ideas, which is where HAVEN comes in.

HAVEN is a human rights group which stands for Humans Actively Vanquishing Evil Nationally. The group itself sounds innocent enough, right? At first they were, HAVEN just wanted to stop hunger in the US and give homes to the hobos. Their causes were noble but soon they grew to be anything but. The moment HAVEN caught wind of my parent's experiments, they protested nonstop, trying to get my parents' work banned. The problem was that the public thought the experiments my parents were doing were actually cool, for the most part at least.

So HAVEN sent angry letters, they protested outside my parent's lab which conveniently enough was at our giant mansion just outside Gotham City limits. HAVEN never bothered my parents. In fact, the human rights group was actually giving my parents more success at publicizing their finds. In a matter of weeks, my parent's pictures were always splayed across the front page of Gotham Times.

One day that all changed, though. I was 13 at the time, barely getting into teenager-dom. My parents were constantly telling me off for my bad attitude, but we all knew I was just trying to get attention. I usually occupied my parent's lab during my free time. I was tutored at home so I didn't have to worry about ever going to school.

It was the day my parents perfected the Owl Suit that they died. Yes, died. As in kicked the bucket, bought the farm, pushing daisies, etc. The Owl Suit was probably the coolest invention they'd ever made, though. It was a full body suit made out of silky grey material that had wings built into the sleeves so when the arms were spread, fully functional wings would pop out, giving you the flight of an owl. The owl suit was completely secret, only I and my parents knew about it because they wanted to keep their future projects secret from the public eye, quickly growing sick of the constant things in the paper about them.

I sat in my dad's large lab chair, twirling around as he and my mom put the finishing touches on the suit. On my feet were my parent's first successful invention; lightweight shoes that gave you the traction and stability of a jaguar. The shoes were way too big for me but I always liked the way they looked with their fast looking black stripes on the matte black shoe. I had the shoes laced tightly so they wouldn't fall off my too small feet.

"Mona," my dad called. I looked up at him seeing pride written all over his face. He held a limp bundle of silvery grey fabric that looked slightly silky and satiny in the lights of the lab. "We finished it, Mona! It works!" The biggest grin I'd ever seen lit up my dad's face as he let me gingerly take the suit from him. It felt like silky water in my hands as it slid over my skin. It was slightly stretchy but it didn't look like it would be at all.

"Can I try it out?" I asked eagerly, holding the suit by the shoulders. It was taller than me by an inch or two, obviously too big to be useful. Yet I still looked up to my dad for his answer.

He chuckled. "Consider it yours, Mona my dear. An early birthday present. Just use it wisely." He ruffled my hair affectionately.

Those were the last words my dad ever said to me. A loud bang like a gunshot or an explosion flooded my ears. On the other side of the lab my mother began to scream as bright orange flames started to grow. My dad quickly ran to my mom, another explosion happening as he sprinted. I was thrown off my feet by the blast, slammed into the corner of a metal filing cabinet which proceeded to cut my forehead. Dazed, I got up, looking around for my parents. The flames had begun to spread now, towering over me as they consumed my parent's work. A tall wooden pillar that supported the roof of our old mansion began to break into pieces, falling to the ground in burning sections. I saw it falling but I was too late to run away as a moderately sized chunk of wood slammed me in the gut. At that moment I first realized true pain, and let me tell you, it's not something you can forget. The flames of the log burned through my shirt, blistering my flesh as I tried not to scream so my newly broken ribs wouldn't puncture my lungs.

With power I didn't know I possessed, I shoved the log off, grabbing the Owl Suit and fighting my way out of the lab. Debris fell down around me but I paid no attention even as it hit my head and shoulders. The only thing I could focus on was finding a way out. The fire seemed to have turned the lab into a labyrinth where flames met me around every corner. I stopped to catch my breath, suddenly very aware of the sweat pouring down my face, the heat of the flames, the pain of a few broken ribs in my flesh. A small voice told me that if I sat down, everything would be so much easier. If I just gave up and died in this fire I wouldn't have to deal with the pain of losing my parents or the pain of my injuries.

"NO!" I shouted to the flames that were eating away my parent's lab. "NO! HELP! HELP ME!" My voice was hoarse and cracked but I swear that I'd never shouted louder before in my life. Yet no matter how loud I yelled, I only head the deafening crackle of the fire. A hacking cough wracked through my chest and pain pierced me like a knife.

"C'mon, ducky," a familiar voice said in my ear, my governess, Jilliane Conrad, helping me up. She supported me, pulling my limp body from the lab. I could barely support myself, my muscles seemed to suddenly give out and as we burst into the hall, I collapsed to the floor, coughing, attempting to get the vile smoke from my lungs. Tears streamed down my face, finding their way into my mouth. I tasted salt and soot but it only reminded me of sadness, if sadness had a taste.

"We've got to get them!" I yelled at Jilliane, referring to my parents in the flaming lab. Jilliane only looked at me sadly, telling me with her eyes that it was already too late for them.

Painful sobs shook my body, but it didn't stop me from crying out. Jilliane didn't wait for me to stop crying, though. Before I knew it, I was being dragged away from the lab, from my home, until I was sprawled across my front lawn, crying, waiting for help that I knew would be too late. I was treated for some injuries on my lawn. In the long term I was stuck in the Hospital for at least a week while I healed after all the legal matters were taken care of.

My parents were pronounced dead after the firemen had gotten into the lab. All that remained of them were two charred corpses, holding onto each other as they died (or so I was told by a kindly fireman who'd seen their remains). The funeral was a week later, right after I got released from the Hospital. The doctors had told me the cut on my forehead would heal completely, but I'd have some permanent burn scars from the pillar that had fallen on me. In a way I was glad I had the scars. I wanted something to show for the fact I'd been in a life altering experience. It didn't matter to me that wearing bikinis would suddenly become inconvenient of changing out in gym class would be awkward.

I was the only attendant to my parents' funeral besides the priest, grave diggers, and the mortuary director. Oh, and my lawyer, forgot about him. He stood far away from the service, hidden in the cemetery's shadowed depths. The service was closed casket, though I doubt there was much to put in the casket at all. When my lawyer had suggested just cremating the rest of their remains I threw a nice, big temper tantrum. Why would I want my parents burned to ashes when they were burned to death?

"We're having a proper funeral, and that's final," I told my lawyer, Stafford Smith.

"But it'd be so much cheaper and easier, Mona, just to cremate them," Smith told me, not gently.

"NO!" I screeched. "I almost DIED in the fire that killed my parents. I lost my family, my house, my life, and you can't even give me this? For God's sake, my parents left me their entire fortune, it's not like I can't pay for the funeral, as long as my legal caretaker at the moment consents to let me." I glared at Smith in the evil way that only 13 year olds can. "So what's it gonna be, legal caretaker?"

Smith sighed heavily. He was a young guy, maybe in his mid to late 20's. He was tall and gangly with well combed flaxen hair. I supposed he seemed like a nice enough guy as a person, but he was always too stiff and formal as a lawyer. "If you're sure about this…" Smith said uncertainly.

"I've never been surer of anything at all, Smith." And that was how the discussion ended. I got the proper funeral for my parents, using up only 200,000 of the millions my parents left me. The day of the funeral was bleak, as it often was in Gotham. But the funeral was a necessity for me, it allowed me to completely attempt to let go of my parents. The sight of their caskets being lowered into the ground solidified the fact I was finally alone in the world. And the feeling of being alone is one of the most emptying you can ever have.