Stephanie Brown was accustomed to running errands for her mother. Back in the early days of her oh-so-happy childhood, her mother had been too busy fending off Steph's "loving" father and taking happy pills to make the pain go away to bother with things like groceries. She had learned what a PIN number was at age six, and shopping lists were among her earliest writing assignments. She had taken every opportunity to get out of the house.

Over the past year, however, her mother had been playing the role of the responsible parent, which was why it struck Stephanie as odd that she sent her out on a milk run. Or it would have, if Crystal Brown had not just spent the last three days on call at West Mercy hospital after Scarecrow set off a fear gas bomb in the middle of a mall. Her mother was exhausted, and she was happy to help. It was what she did, after all.

The clouds above her looked ready to burst into tears at any minute, and the forecast had said that Gotham was due for heavy rain tonight. The Compact was parked back at Firewall for maintenance, so she'd taken the bus to the east side of Gotham to meet a few friends. She had been on her way back home when her mother called and asked her to go shopping.

Somehow she'd ended up in Park Row, one of the more infamous areas of Gotham City. In the early 60s, it was the place to be, but when the rich people moved to other parts of the city and the surrounding countryside, property values plummeted and the houses that weren't abandoned entirely were taken over by criminals and used for everything from drug deals to underground brothels. As a result, this once proud neighborhood had had earned the ugly moniker of "Crime Alley."

It held particular notoriety for one man, who had lost his parents in an alley behind the Monarch Theater and devoted his life to fighting crime while dressed as a bat.

Being out at night in this part of town was usually a bad idea in Gotham, but she could handle herself in or out of costume. That was also what she did.

She strode up the nearly abandoned sidewalk to the neighborhood market, when her highly trained eye noticed a woman disappear into an alley way too quickly to have simply ducked into it on her own. She sighed. 'Here we go...'

She passed close enough to the doors that they opened in anticipation of her, but she strode past them and over to the alley, where she peeked around the corner and discovered that all was not right.

"Hey, baby," one of society's rattier members sneered as he pressed her up against the wall of the alley, flanked by half a dozen other street punks. "I think you know what's about to happen, so don't scream and this'll all be over quick."

Stephanie ducked back and glared at the opposite side of the street. Sexual violence was a particularly touchy subject for her, and even though her experience had not happened in an alley, she could not abide this. Groceries could wait.

'And of course you had to leave your batsuit at the dry cleaners, didn't you, Steph?'

Actually it was still at Firewall, but it might as well have been in Timbuktu given how unavailable the disguise was right now. This was supposed to be her day off.

'Okay, think,' she narrated internally as she peered back around the corner. The woman was petrified, not daring to make a move. She had yet to cry out for help, which meant she was willing to follow instructions from an armed man. That had never been Stephanie's style, but it seemed to be keeping the woman alive, so who was she to judge?

'There's too many to sneak up behind him and give him a whack on the head,' she told herself. 'And most of them are armed, which means if I go charging in they'll all have time to get a bead on me.' She sighed. This was going to require some improvisation.

Fortunately, that was another thing Stephanie Brown did well.

"Open your mouth," the leader ordered as he unzipped his pants. "And don't bite down or I'll make sure and kill you slowly."

"Hey!" she shouted, too angry to think of a clever witticism. Seven pairs of eyes turned around to face her.

She might have gotten more of a reaction if she'd been wearing a bat across her chest, but it got their attention off the other woman at least, so she considered that a success.

"This neighborhood's not a good place to be on a school night, baby doll," the thug mocked. "Why don't you run along home now? This ain't none of your business."

"It never is," she muttered, then more loudly: "I'm making it my business. Let her go."

He grinned smugly. "Or what?"

"Or nothing," she replied, cocking her hips. "Let her go... and you can have me instead."

That got her the reaction she was looking for, which was several flabbergasted expressions on the gang's faces. "You serious?"

"Oh, come on," she replied in a more sultry voice, pouting and sticking a finger on her lower lip. "This woman's just street trash. Wouldn't you rather have a good, wholesome college student? I won't tell anybody... I promise."

'Laying it on a little thick there, Stephanie.'

Truth be told, this whole plan made her want to throw up and curl into a ball. But she would never have become Batgirl if she had not possessed the strength to put her own fears aside for the sake of appearing brave in front of others, and right now everything depended on keeping up the act long enough to get in close.

After a moment of consideration, the gang leader nodded. "You," he ordered, turning around, "beat it." The woman was only too happy to run out of there, high heels and all. He turned his gaze back to her. "Get over here."

She obeyed, walking with a feigned nervousness and keeping her knees close together. The gang members encircled her, just as planned. She spied the leader's lecherous grin when he lifted up a corner of her shirt...

...then watched it twist into a grimace of pain when, in one smooth motion, she grabbed his index and middle finger and turned around, pulling back on them until they bent further than nature intended, bringing the thug to his knees. She snap-kicked his chin, leaving him sprawled on the ground.

"Augh, you bitch!" he shouted. "Get her!"

She turned back around to face the other gang members and grinned like the devil, pressing a fist into her palm and cracking her knuckles. They hesitated for a moment, not having expected such competent resistance from somebody who looked like her. Then they all charged at once.

Stephanie was ready for them. She grabbed one of the thugs by the shoulders and flipped over him in a maneuver she had learned by studying Dick, driving her feet into his back. He toppled face first into the leader, rendering both of them unconscious.

The others began pulling out weapons. The two in front of her had a pipe and a nightstick. One had a chain, and the other pulled out a knife. The fifth one had a gun, so she went after him first. Before he could get a shot off, she slid on the ground between his legs, then rolled backwards and stood on her hands, kicking him in the small of his back with one foot. He staggered forward, and she was right side up again by the time he turned around, leveling the gun. It would have made a difference if the sole of her shoe wasn't already two inches from his nose.

He hit the asphalt like a sack of rocks, and the gun clattered to the ground. She kicked it to the other end of the alley, and then the rest of them moved in.

Ducking under a swing from the pipe, she sidestepped the chain and swatted away a strike from the nightstick, intercepting his wrist with the back of her own. She turned around, pressing her back against his chest and elbowing him in the gut. He leaned forward instinctively and she grabbed his arm, then brought her knee up past her head and broke his nose. Planting one leg between his, she shifted her weight and threw him over her head, slamming him into the ground.

Still holding his arm, she pivoted quickly then descended and buried her knee in his chest. She finally wrenched the weapon free of his grip, and smacked it into his temple with just enough force to not shatter his skull.

She stood, ready for the next one.

Knife-guy started swiping at her, so she had to take a short leap back. Snaking around him, she intercepted him at the wrist and smashed the nightstick into his forehead. He stubbornly held on to the knife, so she whacked the inside of his elbow with her weapon and wrapped her arm around the back of his neck. She hopped off the ground and let gravity do the rest, which sent him into a front flip that ended with his skull hitting the pavement, knocking him out cold.

Only pipe-man and the chain wielder were left. She twirled her legs above her and kipped upwards, preventing them from getting close while she recovered. Kicking off one of the walls, she aimed a flying roundhouse kick at the man with the chain, who turned out to be quicker than she thought and wrapped her leg with his weapon. She crashed painfully to the ground, and his partner went for the kill, raising the pipe high above his head.

Steph hurled the night stick into chain-guy's gut, and he doubled over just in time to get whacked in the middle of his back by the pipe. Now free, she somersaulted out of the way of a second blow, which sparked against the asphalt and warped the end of the makeshift weapon. She put her remarkable leg strength to use and stomped on the middle of the pipe, bending it beyond usefulness, before elbowing its wielder in the nose. He brought his hands up to halt the spray of blood and waddled around, defenseless.

By this time the other guy had recovered and charged at her like a raging bull. She rolled over his back, and he proceeded to smack his forehead straight into the bricks. He staggered backward, slowly turning around as he swung wildly. She easily swatted his fists aside, then struck him in the chin with a rising knee. A spin kick to the chest dropped him for good.

She faced down the final gang member, who had picked up the abandoned chain. He swung it haphazardly in a vertical strike, which she effortlessly sidestepped. She ducked under the follow-up swipe, and continued to dodge until he finally smacked himself in the head. She surged forward, grabbing the chain for herself and using it to cut off the thug's air supply from behind. She took care not to crush his windpipe, and relented once he flopped to the ground, alive but not well.

'Well,' she thought, satisfied, 'That takes care of—'

Bang!

She turned around and saw the leader pointing a gun at her with the hand that she had not mangled. Her hands searched for bullet holes, but could not find any. Also, there was no smoke emanating from the gun. Her questions were answered a second later when the scumbag toppled over, screaming his head off and clutching his thigh.

"You need to pay more attention to your surroundings," a voice said from above. She looked up and saw a dark figure drop into the alleyway. One that was not wearing a cape, but a black leather jacket and a...

Red Hood. Jason Todd. She had heard enough about him that her grip on the nightstick tightened for a moment.

"Oh pipe down, Jerry," he said over the gang leader's howls. "I didn't even hit an artery. Cops will be here in five. You should be able to keep the leg." He kicked him in the face, knocking him unconscious. "Now shut up."

She debated what to do with this unexpected development. All she really knew about Jason Todd was that he had been the Robin after Dick, and he had died tragically after being beaten within an inch of his life, only to come back later.

'Doesn't that sound familiar?' a part of her chimed in, and she cringed, not wanting to think about Black Mask or Africa right now.

She knew that he had rejected Bruce's no-killing philosophy and made a habit of gunning down street crooks. He was a stone-cold murderer, and his intentions were a mystery.

Then again, he had let the gang leader live. He had also saved her life, so it was only polite to hear him out.

"How much of that did you see?"

"All of it," he replied, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "Nice work... Batgirl."

She inhaled sharply and her heart jumped, but she quickly contained her reaction. It wasn't that surprising that he figured out who she was. Like her, he had been trained by the World's Greatest Detective.

She put a hand on her hip. "What makes you think I'm Batgirl?"

"Well first of all..." He gestured to her handiwork. "And your first question wasn't to ask me who I was, which means you already knew."

"Okay fine, you got me," she muttered, crossing her arms. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been trying to get this guy for weeks," Jason responded, gesturing with his still smoking pistol to the unconscious would-be rapist. "Whatever you might have heard about me, I really don't like it when this sort of stuff happens to women."

"That makes two of us."

"So what brings you to the neighborhood?" he inquired, tucking the pistol into a holster under his jacket.

"Grocery shopping," she answered, cleaning the handle of the night stick with her shirt. "I was just about to go into this market when I came across these punks."

"Well, unless you want to explain to the cops how some random blonde in civvies laid an almighty smackdown on these guys, we'd better book it."

"I could just tell them you saved me."

He laughed. "I don't have the same rapport with Gotham's Finest as the rest of the family. There's at least five active warrants out for me."

"That's just because you don't usually leave survivors, from what I hear." She nodded at the fallen gang leader. "Why did you leave him alive, anyway?"

Jason shrugged. "Didn't want to make a bad first impression."

"Well, let's compromise, then. We don't have to stick around, but at least help me tie these guys up."

He produced several zip-ties. "With pleasure."

"You know, if you were gonna stick around anyway you could have helped me talk to the cops," said Steph roughly thirty minutes later after the five-o had departed with the entire gang in custody. She had not intended to stay herself, but the squad car was already there by the time she finished restraining everybody.

Jason emerged from his shadowy hiding place, from which he had watched her spin a daring tale of being rescued by a mysterious masked man. The thugs who were conscious had backed up this narrative on the spot, as it allowed them to avoid admitting that the blonde had completely torn them apart. As for the ones who had yet to wake up, their head injuries would make any conflicting testimony easy to dismiss.

He had removed his helmet and all other portions of his costume that were indistinguishable from civilian clothes, and walked with her towards the grocery store. "Like I said, I'm even less popular with the GCPD than the original Red Hood."

"I know, but I had to make up a bunch of things because I barely know you."

"Well, they were flattering things, so I don't really mind." He grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Or is that your way of saying to you wanna get to know me?"

"You do make an interesting first impression, I'll admit."

Jason laughed.

"So really, how did you know I was Batgirl?" she asked as they entered the deserted grocery store, grabbing a cart. "You're not exactly on speaking terms with the rest of us Bats."

"Neither are you," he said, and she had her answer.

"Aha!" She pointed at him. "You've been spying on me."

He wrinkled his nose. "More like keeping tabs. And if it makes you feel any better, it wasn't just you I've been keeping an eye on."

"It doesn't, but I'll let that slide since Bruce spies on all of us." They turned down the baking aisle, and Stephanie immediately procured three bags of waffle mix. "Were you following me tonight?"

He shook his head. "I told you, I've been after Jerry Travers for weeks now. He was a wanted serial rapist who preferred to share his spoils with his gang. They're a bunch of misogynist crapsacks who deserve way worse than what you gave 'em."

The passion in that statement gave Stephanie pause. From what she'd heard, mostly from Tim, Jason Todd was a gun-toting son of a bitch who killed people. But to hear him tell it, he sounded almost justified. It helped that he hadn't gone all the way.

"And yet you still think I did a nice job."

He shrugged, then deposited two loaves of bread into the cart. "You used an angle that I wouldn't have thought of, much less been able to implement. You got them to let their guard down, and you wiped the floor with them. That was really nice work."

"Um, thanks," she replied, and meant it. "The rest of the Batfam wouldn't have been that understanding." They were passing the fridges at the back of the store, and she grabbed a gallon of milk as well as a dozen eggs. "I'm pretty sure Tim would have thrown a fit."

"That's right, you used to date Tim," he said, as if he had just remembered it. "And yeah, you don't have to tell me about being looked down on for extreme methods. Even when I was Robin, Bruce was always getting on my case."

"Something else we have in common," she remarked, grabbing a ten-pack of yogurt. "Actually my very brief tenure as Robin ended just like yours."

He gave her a sympathetic look. "Joker?"

"Black Mask."

"That dumbass? I stole Kryptonite from him once just to fuck with him."

"He's not so much of a dumbass when he tortures you for days on end with a power drill," she replied, wincing sharply through gritted teeth. "From what I've gleaned that was right before you came back."

His features were now set in a glare. "Next chance I get I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch."

"Not that I want you to, but why?"

If tomorrow's headline was "Red Hood Strikes Again," Batman would surely throw her in the pit of shame for having inspired it. The pit was metaphorical, and consisted mostly of metric shitload of guilt that would be thrown her way.

"Because the fact that Joker's still alive should tell you that Batman never avenges us when it really counts."

"Is that why you're so angry with him?"

"Among other reasons, yes."

"Well, as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I think Catwoman already beat you to it."

"When?"

"Black Lanterns."

"Oh, right. You know, I don't even remember where I was during all that. Black rings mess with your memory." They were nearing the sandwich meats, and he grabbed several packages of ham as well as some sliced cheese. "I'm sure Bruce hasn't told you very much about me."

"Actually Barbara filled me in on most of it," she explained. "And I saw you on the news when you were running around with that Scarlet chick. That outfit looked ridiculous, by the way."

"S'why I went back to the classic," he said, gesturing with his hands still in his jacket pockets.

She nodded. "I like it. Very biker chic."

He smirked.

They passed the rest of the shopping trip in relative silence, picking out various foods. When they got to the register she started to pull out her wallet, but Jason stopped her. "I got this."

"You sure? Because if you don't think I can pay, I'll have you know I've been saving up my allowance all week."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I highly doubt you get an allowance."

"Okay, so it's scholarship money that probably should have gone towards books but I'm really good about budgeting it, I swear."

"I said I've got it," he repeated, handing a wad of bills to the cashier. With his reputation a credit card would likely have been a liability.

Jason finished bagging the groceries and gathered them in his arms. They stepped out of the store and into the torrential rain that had just decided to start pouring.

"Aw, man!" Stephanie complained as her hair started to cling to her face. "Now I have to walk home in this."

"My place isn't far from here," he offered, gesturing with his head. "Wanna wait out the storm there?"

She raised an eyebrow. "As fascinating as it's been interacting with you for the first time, I am trying to stay on the rest of the family's good side. I don't think going home with you would improve my already spotty reputation."

"What they don't know won't hurt 'em," he insisted. "Besides, I'm holding your groceries."

"Point," she admitted, raising a finger. She sighed. "Okay, fine. Let's just get going before I change my mind."

"Atta' girl," he said with a smile that was a little too wide for her taste.