On an average night in the Pacific Northwest, Mia Dearden was in the midst of thwarting a weapons trafficking case. No big deal.
With the assistance of one of Gotham’s many bats — who just happened to be investigating the same group of smugglers on the other coast — she chased down a truck full of illicit substances through the heart of downtown Seattle, utilizing the motorbike she had been tinkering with for months.
The blonder and more talkative Batgirl proved to be quite handy during the chase, as she took the handles of Speedy’s motorcycle as Seattle’s resident archer leapt onto the rushing semi-trailer truck. The vehicle zipped past Smith Tower as Speedy made her away towards the cab, her heart beating fast as determination surged through her veins.
At least the Seattle residents who were whipping out their smartphones to record the scene were bound to get a sick new video of their local hero.
With her trusty combat knife — which included an integrated glass-breaker — Mia breached the windows of the vehicle and slipped right in. Inside the confined space of the vehicle, the driver grit his teeth and pulled out a blade of his own. Fortunately for the plucky archer, the only thing he was able to do was nick her forehead right under her hairline.
Even more fortunately, Mia was used to the concept of fighting in a confined space as a bleeding head wound painted a red line down her pretty face (which said a lot about her kind of lifestyle, but she didn’t like to think about that).
In due time, Mia managed to incapacitate the driver with a few swift strikes, then managed to stop the vehicle before things got even more messy. She didn’t even have to rely on her last resort, as it wouldn’t bode well for Speedy if the people of Seattle saw her drop a vehicle of smuggled goods into Elliott Bay… for the third time.
With the weapons trafficker apprehended and the semi-trailer truck halted in front of the Seattle Public Library, Mia hopped out of the vehicle and plopped the perpetrator onto the sidewalk. As she secured his hands and feet with some heavy duty cable ties, she swore she could hear him grumbling about how two random-ass nineteen-year-olds with capes managed to thwart his entire operation.
Once everything was done, Mia had just enough time to secure a sterile pad over her bleeding forehead before Batgirl zipped by on a motorcycle that was definitely not hers.
With a playful smith, the Bat offered the Archer a ride, and who was Mia to refuse such a lovely prospect?
The authorities came by just as the pair of plucky blonde heroes escaped the vicinity. As they moved through the streets and Batgirl let a few excited whoops out into the Seattle night, Mia could feel her heart racing in her chest like it was about to burst out. Her entire being was filled with a rushing sensation that she couldn’t exactly describe, yet one that brought the goofiest smile to her face.
It was moments like these that made Mia wish that the night could never end.
But soon an hour passed and Mia was forced to focus on other things — namely, how to fix that gash on her head.
Standing in the bathroom of her “arrowloft,” she glanced up to her mirror and focused on the gauze she had haphazardly taped to her forehead. She had initially believed that she did a good enough job playing roadside doctor, but looking at the dressings now she figured that Lian could’ve done a better job. And Lian once forgot seven letters of the alphabet.
Mia sucked in a breath as she reached up to her wound. She gently undid the dressings and tried not to wince too hard as the semi-healed cut came into sight. Unsurprisingly, disrupting the bandages caused the injury to start bleeding again.
Mia grumbled as she grabbed a washcloth and began cleaning her head gash, as well as the line of blood on her face.
Once the gash looked slightly less concerning, Mia only briefly toyed with the concept of stitching herself up, but soon sighed and deferred to using butterfly closures, as per usual.
As she worked she affixed her gaze towards her reflection, then thought long and hard about whether or not she would be adding another scar to her collection. Her eyes would only briefly glance upon the uneven tissue on her arms, shoulders, or abdomen, and occasionally towards the ones on her face.
It was moments like this where Mia could take in how she looked. Every day she got older she began to see features of mother etched onto her face — from her shade of blonde to her pair of gentle brown eyes. However, Mia couldn’t remember her mother having faded lines across her cheek and jawline, or a nose that was slightly bent from too many fist fights.
At this point in her life she couldn’t remember which scar came with which story. The ones from her hero life and the ones from her biological father’s rage were beginning to look the same.
After applying the butterfly closures, washing her bruised knuckles, and popping a few ibuprofen tablets from the value-sized jar, Mia left her bathroom and tried to act like a normal human being in front of her guest.
Stephanie Brown had made herself comfortable in the little Seattle loft that Mia (and Speedy) called home. Unsurprisingly, her attention and focus had been placed on the unit’s other resident.
Viscount Theodore of Dearden — or Teddy, as his master liked to call him — was Mia’s sixty-pound rescue dog. He was officially deemed to be half pitbull and half god-knows-what, but his beloved human liked to consider him one hundred percent couch potato.
Currently, the absolute unit of a pittie mix was lying on the floor of the loft’s living area, smiling and wagging his tail as Stephanie happily rubbed his stomach.
The Archer couldn’t help but smile. As she walked over she grabbed a sweater off a chair and pulled it over her torso, perhaps in an attempt to take attention away from the blemishes on her skin. At least when she finally arrived at the two on the floor, Stephanie was much more preoccupied by the lazy blob on the carpet.
Mia’s place was reasonably clean. Sure, the odd kettlebell or quiver had been dropped on the floor, but she managed to make the place look presentable when she learned she would be having a guest.
On the coffee table were Batgirl’s and Speedy’s costumes. As Mia plopped herself onto the couch, she couldn’t help but notice how put together Stephanie’s suit seemed to be. Plates of lightweight, high-density plastic were bound together by flexible, yet rugged textured material. Even if it couldn’t take the entire bite out of a bullet, it could let the wearer live to see another day.
In contrast, Speedy’s suit was as battered and battle-worn as one would expect. Seeing it next to a nearly pristine suit made Mia feel like an absolute slob. Perhaps it was time for Speedy to give her gear a more intricate makeover and not just a paint job.
“Who’s a chonky boi, huh?” said Stephanie in a playful, baby-like voice. “Who’s the chonkiest?”
“Having fun?” asked the Archer. As she laid on the couch she tried to ignore the aches in her muscles and joints — the ibuprofen certainly liked taking its sweet time to kick in. Perhaps it was time to switch to extra strength.
Stephanie nodded and smiled from ear to ear. “Lots of it, you should’ve told me you had a big ol’ stocky boi.”
“Yeah, it must’ve slipped my mind,” Mia replied, amused.
For a moment she yawned and rubbed her tired eyes. She wasn’t even sure how late it was anymore, but a quick glance at her window implied that it was early in the morning, if the sun just barely rising above the horizon was any indication.
Stephanie continued to give the pitbull stomach pets, so much so that Viscount Theodore began lying on his back completely and let his stocky legs stick upwards. He had the doofiest smile on his face as he basked in the attention.
“By the way, I told Oracle that we stopped the thing,” Stephanie soon spoke.
Mia nodded. “And…?”
“She’s glad we finished the mission, but she’s not too happy about leaving the truck in front of the library,” Stephanie confessed, shrugging.
Mia’s first reaction was to let out a chuckle. “Well, then remind me to leave a note next time — Caution, Do Not Open: Smuggled Soviet-Era Assault Rifles Inside.”
Stephanie let out a laugh, then beamed at the Archer in a way that could remind one of a very excited golden retriever.
“You’re funny,” she remarked, her words sounding genuine. “Why don’t we hang out every night?”
“Because Gotham’s on the other coast,” Mia replied, partially joking and partially not.
Mia had only worked with Stephanie once before, and by now that time felt far behind her. The case involved a plain-clothes investigation on the east side of Gotham. Truth be told, neither Mia nor Steph were planning on getting into a fist fight in a grocery store parking lot, but at least they were both versed in the art of rolling with the punches — literally.
Tonight was certainly a lot more chaotic than punching a bunch of dudes in front of a Whole Foods, but even with the bruises on her knuckles and the new mark on her face — Mia would not trade it for the world.
Plus, it was just nice to have company sometimes.
Nowadays her family members were often spread thin across the country. Whether it be Dinah working with the Birds or Roy working with the League, the fact always seemed to stand that everyone was just busy. Unavailability never came from malice, it just happened and Mia knew it.
But it didn’t stop her from spending months alone in a Seattle loft, and during such times she would truly miss the Californian sun. Sometimes she wondered why she picked such a drearily overcast city to operate in for Speedy’s attempt to “go solo.”
At least she had a big chonky rescue dog to keep from feeling too isolated.
Speaking of which, Mia looked at her absolute unit of a pitbull on the floor. The second the two made eye contact and Mia patted her thigh, the thicc viscount immediately got up from the floor, shook his head so fast that his ears slapped his stupid skull, and hopped onto the couch.
Despite being sixty pounds, Viscount Theodore of Dearden seemed utterly convinced that he was a lap dog and lounged on his owner’s legs as if he were a pomeranian. Mia didn’t seem to care though, as affectionately scratched his forehead and gazed lovingly into his beady, black eyes.
Stephanie could only smile as she pulled herself off the floor and sat on the couch.
“Ahhh, I see — your master gets priority, huh?” said the Gothamite in a playful tone.
For a moment Mia watched as Stephanie continued to adore Seattle’s most blobby pitbull, spending a few seconds to take in the other blonde.
Stephanie’s eyes were blue, but a lighter shade than Mia expected. On top of them, she couldn’t help but notice faint marks on Stephanie’s face — or perhaps, the lack thereof.
Looking at Stephanie now, Mia could not have guessed that half the shit she read in Spoiler/Batgirl’s files actually happened to her. But perhaps some people were better at hiding their scars than others.
Before Mia could fall any further into her mental rabbit hole, she forced herself to speak.
“By the way, you’re welcome to crash here for a night,” she said, doing her best to maintain the appearance of a normal functioning human. “Gotham’s a long teleporter ride away, y’know?”
Stephanie looked utterly charmed. “You’re too kind.”
Mia smiled bashfully. “It’s the least I could do.”
A few seconds passed and Stephanie gave Mia the same warm, loving look that she had been giving to the dog all night.
“It’s nice to know I still got time to play with this chonky boi,” said Stephanie, giving Viscount Teddy a few more stomach pats to emphasize her point.
Mia gestured behind her, where there was a staircase leading to the loft’s second floor.
“You can take my bed, it’s just up there.”
Stephanie’s smile was quick to falter as she shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t.”
“It’s fine, you’re my guest,” Mia assured. With a playful expression, she then glanced towards the large sixty pound pitbull now falling asleep on her lap, effectively pinning her to the cushions for the rest of eternity.
“Besides… I think I live here now.”
The pair of plucky blondes then let out a lighthearted, mutual laugh.
In no time Stephanie’s unease faded away, and suddenly she laid back on the couch, lounging happily as if it was where she belonged in the world.
Five hours into her visit to Gotham and Mia Dearden was at the bottom of a dumpster.
It wasn’t her fault though. The burly, roid-raging Gothamite thug was quite close to losing the fight against the Plucky Archer, what he was not counting on was Mia’s top-notch grappling skills subduing his fists or her roundhouse kicks sinking into his gut. Clearly, the only way he was able to even the odds against the five-foot-nothing nineteen-year-old was grabbing by the waist and yeeting her across the parking lot.
At least the various garbage bags broke her fall. Mostly. She landed on her left arm rather peculiarly, so much so that the pain in her shoulder immediately reminded her of similar injuries from her past.
On the other side of the lot was Mia’s designated Bat-Partner for the night. With Red Robin stuck in another dimension, Night-Cheeks busy in Bludhaven, and the current pint-sized Robin being decidedly unfitting for work with an Arrow, Dinah’s Redhead BFF had assigned the current Batgirl to work with Speedy. The mission involved investigating the city in plain clothes, which meant Mia couldn’t bring her trusty quiver with her, but she could still make things work.
Somehow their trail of assigned clues had led them to a grocery store parking lot to chat with a trio of dudes drinking malt liquor and smoking Pall Malls.
And somehow it all escalated into a fight.
In the midst of the parking lot Stephanie Brown fought off two other Gothamite thugs. Skillfully utilizing a collapsible bo staff, she evened the odds despite technically being outnumbered. She aimed her strikes at the stomachs of her opponents, smartly knocking the air out of them before finishing the job with a kick or two.
Mia managed to sit up in the dumpster. Her mind was spinning from the impact, but with all her strength she reached upwards and pulled herself into a standing position. It hurt to move her left arm, but she could already tell that she had dislocated her shoulder. Again.
Looking out at the parking lot she could see Stephanie taking down the second thug, a feat illuminated by the glow of a Gotham street lamp. The guy who had tossed the archer into the trash had grabbed a discarded two-by-four off the ground and began swinging at the Blonde Bat. Steph was quick to dodge the first blow, but her attempts to block it with her staff left led to her weapon being knocked out of her hands.
Mia grabbed the first hard object she could find the dumpster — which happened to be a glass bottle — and climbed out of the trash. Once she was on the concrete she lugged the empty forty with her good arm — it soared across the lot and right into the head of the roid-raging muscle-head.
The impact caused the guy to groan in pain and halt in his tracks. Within a split second Stephanie finished the job with a well-aimed roundhouse kick to the face, an attack that both knocked out the guy as well as a few teeth.
“Hope you guys got dental!” she said as the guy went down.
Mia wiped dumpster grime off her jacket as she walked up to Steph and the trio of passed out dudes.
“Nice throw,” Stephanie complimented as the archer got close to her.
“It was nothing,” Mia shrugged off. “We blondes gotta look out for each other, don’t we?”
Mia placed her right hand on her left shoulder, feeling where the bone and socket was. In her mind she knew what she had to do, but that didn’t make it any less painful.
Stephanie noticed that something was up. “You alright?” she asked, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” said Mia a little too casually.
She took a few steps towards the nearest street light and rummaged around her pockets for her wallet. Placing the leather good between her teeth, Mia closed her eyes and shoved her left shoulder against the hard metal surface, effectively relocating her arm back into place. She bit down on her wallet hard enough to leave marks in the material, letting out an excruciating groan that strained her throat. Even when the deed was over and she could move her left arm again, the limb was still decidedly sore, but Mia was used to it.
When the archer took her wallet out of her mouth, she looked over to Stephanie and was greeted by her rather shocked expression.
“You uh… need a Doctor or something?” she asked in a shaky voice. “Cause I know this back-alley guy who doesn’t ask questions.”
“I’ll live,” Mia replied dryly. “We Arrows get beat up a lot.”
Nodding, Stephanie collapsed her bo staff and went over to the trio of passed out muscle heads. She poked one of them with her boot, then made the astounding discovery that he was completely passed out.
“So…” Mia started, rubbing her sore shoulder. “Which one of these guys are we interrogating?”
Stephanie glanced at each guy one by one, then her eyes went wide in mild panic. “Uh…”
“Don’t tell me you forgot!” exclaimed the Archer. Her voice was nearly loud enough to reach across the lot.
“I didn’t, I just got distracted!” Steph said defensively. She took a breath and looked at the trio of dudes once more, ultimately she pointed at the two who were closest to her. “It was either Baldy One or Baldy Two — which one looks sketchier?”
There was a beat as Mia glared at Stephanie, the ache in her shoulder reminding her of the entire scuffle that brought them to this point. “I think the two chicks who beat up three guys in the parking lot are the sketchy ones here.”
Stephanie nodded and wagged her finger at her partner. “You know, you got me there.”
For another beat the Plucky Archer and Plucky Bat contemplated their next step forward — Stephanie was considering hitting up the Ginger in the Tower for advice while Mia was re-evaluating her last few hours in Gotham. Frankly, she had found the place underwhelming. Perhaps it was all the city patrols she had spent alongside Ravager, but clearly Mia was too used to night out that ended with a trip to the ER to get a finger reattached. Or stitches. Or both.
But Stephanie Brown was a nice change of pace. She made the Angst Capital of the USA feel more like a city full of adventure and less like a hive of corruption and lies, even if she did technically instigate the fist fight in the parking lot.
“So… you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Mia, glancing over to Steph then to the trio of perps.
“Dangle these guys over an alleyway, wait until they wake up, and interrogate all three of them by threatening to break their thumbs?” Stephanie answered without hesitating.
Another beat as Mia looked at the taller blonde with concern in her eyes. “I was gonna say ‘wait until they wake up’ but you know, I like your attitude.”
