Mark leaned against the railing, his arms crossed as he gazed down at the commotion unfolding below. Screams echoed through the mall, mixing with the sound of gunfire and shattering glass. Shoppers scrambled for cover while gunmen barked orders and ransacked stores. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as his eyes scanned the scene. 'I could end this in ten minutes... maybe less,' he thought. But the idea of stepping in didn't sit right with him. Not because he didn't care—he cared more than he'd ever admit—but because exposing himself in Gotham was risky. Especially here.
This city had a way of remembering things, and Mark wasn't exactly anonymous anymore. He was plastered all over the news after saving the world from the Joker and his Father, and to make matters worse, someone had decided to slap his face on a statue in the Hall of Justice.
A damn statue.
Mark still couldn't believe it. He'd nearly put his fist through a wall when he found out. 'I'm not Superman,' he'd told them. 'I don't want to be.'
Yet there he was, immortalized in bronze, arms folded heroically and cape flapping like he was the second coming of the Man of Steel. Why was it so hard to believe he wanted to stay anonymous. He'd be much happier staying with Kara and Raven in Smallville until they all died, he didn't want the spotlight at all.
Then came the screams.
Mark straightened as the sound pierced the air, sharper and more urgent than before. His instincts kicked in, muscles tensing as he prepared to move—then froze when a blur dropped from the ceiling.
His eyebrows rose as Batgirl hit the ground like a shadow, landing in a crouch before zipping into one of the shops.
'Huh. Guess one of them is finally here,' he thought.
Mark leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing as he watched her work. It didn't take long. In less than two minutes, she was back out, two thugs slumped behind her and the hostages rushing past her toward safety.
'Still quick.'
He had to admit—she was good. Better than him in a fight, if he was being honest, even though he'd managed to put her on her ass once before. Not that he liked to dwell on that. It wasn't exactly his proudest moment, especially since he was the criminal in that situation. Thinking back, something about her fighting him back then felt... off. Like she'd been holding back—not just physically but mentally, too. Maybe she saw him as some punk kid desperate to get money. Or maybe she thought he'd fold under pressure and quit before he got himself killed.
Either way, it felt like a lifetime ago.
Mark pushed off the railing and cracked his neck.
'I can't leave it all to her,' he thought, flexing his fingers as he mentally prepared himself. Batgirl was good—great, even—but the gunmen were spread out. Too many angles, too many variables, and if someone started firing into the crowd, even she wouldn't be fast enough to stop it.
Besides, he owed her one.
"Alright, let's do this," he muttered before hopping over the railing.
————————————————————-
Barbara had been looking forward to this day for weeks. Her first proper day off in months. No patrols, no late-night stakeouts, no bruises or broken ribs—just a day to relax, unwind, and spend time with her friends. She even let herself get excited about it, which, in hindsight, had been her first mistake.
Because, of course, the universe couldn't let her have one good day.
Barely an hour into their mall trip, gunmen burst into the building, firing into the air and sending everyone into a panic.
And just like that, her day off was over.
Barbara had slipped away from her friends as soon as the chaos started, muttering something about getting help before ducking into an employee restroom. Five minutes later, she was Batgirl again, crouched on the roof and glaring down at the scene below.
Her blood boiled as she watched the gunmen shove people to the ground and trash the stores.
'Not today,' she thought, pulling her cowl into place.
The grappling hook hissed as it shot out, anchoring to the ceiling above. She dropped down silently, landing in one of the stores before the thugs even realized she was there.
Two of them. Armed. One was fiddling with a lock on a glass case while the other pointed his gun at a terrified cashier.
Barbara moved before either of them could react.
Two batarangs flashed through the air, knocking their guns from their hands. The first thug cursed and turned, his arm suddenly stretching unnaturally as if every bone in it snapped and reformed in an instant.
'Meta,' Barbara noted as she ducked under his swing. The movement looked painful—joints bending in ways they weren't supposed to. Still Sloppy.
She spun low, sweeping his legs out from under him and planting him on his back. He groaned, reaching for her, but Barbara didn't give him the chance. She fired her grappling hook, the reinforced hook slamming into his chest hard enough to make him sputter before throwing him backward into a shelf. The second thug tried to bolt, but Barbara leapt over the counter and cut him off. Her leg shot up, her boot catching him in the sternum hard enough to crack ribs. He went down in a heap, groaning before going still.
Barbara barely spared them another glance. She was already moving, zipping out of the store and back into the shadows.
Her body screamed at her as she moved, muscles aching and lungs burning from weeks of non-stop patrols. She'd been running on fumes for days now, but she didn't have time to slow down. Gotham didn't stop just because she was tired.
'Keep moving,' she told herself, flipping her wrist to activate her gauntlet display.
The mall's blueprints lit up on the screen, revealing a network of employee corridors running behind the stores. Good. She could use those to stay hidden, at least until she figured out what these guys were after.
The problem was the unknown. Most of these thugs seemed ordinary, but at least one of them had abilities, and there could be more. She couldn't risk a straight-up fight, not when she didn't know what she was dealing with. Barbara reached the first door along the corridor and kicked it open, bursting inside. Her visor flickered as thermal signatures flared to life. Most of the civilians were huddled on the ground, trembling and trying not to cry.
Except for one thug who was standing over a woman, leering down at her.
Barbara didn't hesitate.
She crossed the room in seconds, her foot slamming into the back of his neck. He crumpled, but Barbara caught his collar before he hit the floor and lowered him gently to avoid making noise.
"Hey, Chad! Stop fucking around with the girls and help me!" someone called from the back of the store.
Barbara slipped through the aisles, keeping low as she approached. The second thug was busy stuffing a duffle bag with cash, his back turned to her.
She pulled a small disk from her belt and tossed it at him. It sparked the moment it made contact, shocking him hard enough to make his body seize before he collapsed.
Two down.
And that's how it went for the next five stores.
By the time Barbara reached the atrium, her heart was pounding, her arms and legs heavy with fatigue. She ducked behind a pillar and surveyed the scene.
'Three left? Where are the rest of them?' She thought to herself with a frown.
The first one was big—easily 6'5 and built like a tank. The second was smaller but still muscular, pacing nervously and waving his gun like he expected the SWAT team to come crashing through the windows any second.
But it was the last one that made Barbara pause.
Skinny. Pale. Arms wrapped in dirty bandages.
Something about him set off alarms in her head.
'That's not normal,' she thought, narrowing her eyes.
The skinny one seemed calm, even bored, as he leaned against the fountain.
"Where the fuck is everyone else?!" the big one growled.
"Who cares?" Bandages said, shrugging. "If they were dumb enough to get caught, let 'em. We've got enough."
"How the hell are we getting out of here? The cops are already outside!" the nervous one snapped.
"I'll handle them," Bandages replied, stepping away from the fountain. "The rest of you slip out the side."
Barbara's grip tightened on her batarang. She didn't know what this guy could do, but if he thought he could handle the police by himself, it wasn't good.
Barbara's fingers twitched as she shot the grapple hook into the ceiling, swinging through the smoke cloud that had enveloped the trio. She dropped low, her boots hitting the floor with a soft thud just before she released a smoke pellet right in the center of the three gunmen. Their voices became a cacophony of shouts and curses as they flailed about in the thick haze, unable to see a thing. Without hesitation, Barbara struck first. Her knee slammed into the back of the man who had been nervously pacing. He crumpled under the force, grunting as the wind was knocked from his lungs.
She didn't stay to watch him fall. Her body was already moving, quick as a flash.
She spun, her foot arcing through the air as she aimed a high kick at the largest of the men. The moment her boot connected, a shock of pain shot up her leg, as if she'd kicked solid stone. The man barely flinched, his arm shooting out like a battering ram, attempting to grab her by the leg. But Barbara was already reacting, pushing off with all her strength and flipping backward, landing gracefully in a low squat.
'Durability enhancement, likely strength too,' she analyzed. No surprise there. The man was built like a wall, and judging by his quick reflexes, he was a trained fighter, MMA or Boxing perhaps. Her fingers danced across her utility belt, producing a handful of electric discs. She threw them at him without hesitation. The first hit him square in the chest, followed by another against his side. The discs crackled as electricity coursed through him, causing him to tense up, muscles spasming involuntarily. He screamed, his face contorting in pain, but Barbara didn't slow down.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash.
Her blood ran cold as a burst of flame shot toward her, bright and wild like a dragon's breath. Instinctively, she threw herself into the fountain, her cape billowing around her as she shielded herself from the heat. The flames licked at her suit, but her armour held up, and the water helped dissipate the worst of it. She stayed submerged just long enough to avoid being scorched, her chest heaving with the effort of resisting the urge to gasp.
When she emerged from the water, the smoke had started to clear, and her heart skipped a beat.
Both men were still there, but their expressions had shifted, no longer masked with confusion but filled with malice.
"You scared me for a second, little lady," Gus said, his voice rough, like gravel in a blender. He cracked a wide grin. "Thought Big Bat himself had come."
"Just the Bat Bitch it seems," Larry chimed in, a grin curling his lips. His arms were held high, and Barbara's eyes tracked the orange flames enveloping his limbs. The bandages that had been wrapped around his arms were burning away, revealing the sickening truth beneath. His skin had been completely scorched off, leaving only charred muscle and burnt tissue in its wake.
Barbara didn't even spare them a reply.
Her body was already moving again, springing out of the fountain with fluid precision, narrowly avoiding another wave of fire as it shot past her. Barbara's feet slammed into the ground as she landed, the impact rattling her bones. She didn't hesitate. Adrenaline surged through her, sharpening her focus. Her eyes flicked to Larry, and without a second thought, she charged at him. His flaming arms were erratic, unpredictable, but she could take him. He was no fighter, just a man who could burn things.
She ducked under his wild swing which sent a wave of flames, the heat from his flames brushing against her skin, but she didn't flinch. Her fist connected with his ribs, the crack of bone reverberating through her arm. Larry gasped, stumbling back, trying to regain his balance. Before he could react, Barbara pivoted and landed a spinning roundhouse kick to his head. The impact sent him crashing into a nearby display, knocking over a glass vase that shattered on the floor.
But Barbara barely had time to register the satisfaction of her hit before she felt a chill run down her spine. Gus.
He was on her in an instant, fists moving with terrifying speed. She blocked his first jab, but the second connected with her jaw, snapping her head back. Her teeth slammed together, the pain searing through her skull. She staggered, trying to regain her balance, but he wasn't letting up. He was fast, and his punches were like battering rams. She ducked under his next right hook, but the force of his swing grazed her cheek. Barbara winced but didn't let it slow her down. She was better than this, but her body was just so damn exhausted at the moment. She moved in, throwing a quick jab to his midsection, but he absorbed the blow, pivoting to avoid her follow-up.
Larry was back on his feet now, fire dancing around his arms again. He threw a burst of flame at her, but this time Barbara was ready. She activated her grapple gun, shooting the line at the ceiling and pulling herself out of the line of fire just in time. The flames scorched the air where she'd been standing, but she was already flipping through the air, landing behind Gus with a solid thud.
She didn't waste a second. She lunged at Gus, jumping on his back and locking him in a quick clinch, aiming to disable him with an elbow to the temple. But Gus was stronger than she anticipated. He headbutted her, the sickening crack of skull on skull ringing in her ears. Dazed, Barbara staggered back, her vision momentarily swimming. Before she could recover, Larry was there, throwing another flame-wrapped punch toward her. Barbara sidestepped, but not fast enough. The fire grazed her side, the heat searing through her suit and straight into her flesh. She screamed, the pain was intense—his flames were getting hotter now for some reason. The skin on her ribs blistered under the intense heat, and she gasped for air, trying to push through the agony.
Gus was relentless. He closed in, his fists hammering into her chest and stomach. Each punch felt like a blow from a wrecking ball. The last one sent her stumbling backward, blood rushing to her mouth as her ribs groaned in protest. Barbara barely managed to steady herself, but it was enough time for Gus to land a devastating uppercut to her chin. Her head snapped backward, and she felt something crack inside her mouth—teeth or jaw, she couldn't tell. Blood filled her mouth, but she spit it out, refusing to show weakness.
She knew she couldn't let them keep controlling the fight. She activated a small explosive device, tossing it at Larry. It detonated with a sharp pop, sending him stumbling back, flames sputtering out as his body jerked from the shock. Barbara rushed toward him, but her vision blurred. Her breath was ragged, her body too battered to keep up at the pace she needed.
Larry wasn't out for long. His arm shot out, flames pouring from his hands like fire hoses. Barbara dodged one burst, but the next hit her square in the chest. The heat was unbearable. Her suit absorbed some of it, but she could feel the burn through the fabric. Her muscles screamed in protest, and she dropped to one knee, struggling to breathe through the pain. The stench of her own singed skin made her stomach turn.
Gus was on her again, and this time, she couldn't dodge. He grabbed her by the collar, lifting her off the ground with terrifying ease and wrapping his hand around her neck. Barbara tried to punch at his face, but he was too strong, his grip tightening around her neck. Her vision started to fade, the pressure on her windpipe cutting off her breath.
"Not so tough now, are you bat bitch?" Gus taunted, his voice low and grating.
She managed to break free long enough to snap a smoke pellet at his feet, blinding both men with the thick cloud. But it wasn't enough. The smoke was already dissipating, and she was already exhausted, her every movement feeling like it was made from lead. As she moved, Larry struck again. This time, he wasn't using flames. Instead, he grabbed a jagged piece of metal from the wreckage of a nearby display and swung it toward her. It caught her across the arm, and the sharp metal dug deep, slicing through her suit and cutting into her flesh. Blood poured from the wound, and Barbara stumbled, nearly losing her footing.
Gus was already closing in again. He threw a haymaker that caught her square in the ribs, and she felt something snap. The pain was blinding. She tried to block out the agony, but it was impossible.
"Get up, Batgirl," Gus mocked, his voice dripping with disdain.
Barbara's head swam as she tried to fight through the pain. She grabbed for a batarang, but her fingers were slick with blood, and the weapon slipped from her hand. Gus's fist came down one final time, connecting with her skull with sickening force. The impact sent her crashing to the floor, the world going black around the edges. She didn't move.
Larry stood over her, his body still crackling with residual flames. "Yeah, I think she's done."
Gus smirked down at Batgirl's battered form, his eyes scanning over her unconscious body. He moved closer, unbuckling his belt as he did. "We don't have time for that shit now!" Larry snapped, his voice sharp with impatience.
Gus growled in response, still fixated on Batgirl as he flipped her onto her back. His grin widened. "I'll be quick," he muttered, his eyes lingering on her helpless state, she tried to hide them but he could tell she had a fat pair of tits on her . His fingers brushed against her face, his lips curling into a sick grin as he took in her features.
Just then, a voice cut through the air. "I forgot how disgusting people in Gotham were..."
Gus spun around, ready to lash out, but froze when he saw the man standing behind him. He wasn't as tall as Gus, nor as wide, but there was something about him—something in his posture that screamed trouble. The man had a bored expression on his face, like he was annoyed to even be here. Gus's patience thinned.
"Get lost before I decide to smash you," Gus snarled, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to Batgirl. His attention was completely back on her, the man now irrelevant. He was going to fuck this girls ginger pussy bloody and maybe even put a kid in her belly—his grin widened at the thought of it.
Mark sighed deeply, his hands shoved into his pockets as he casually strolled over to Gus. He grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around before Gus could even react.
"Do you have a death wi—" Mark didn't let him finish. Without another word, he shoved Gus, sending him flying across the atrium. Gus slammed through the fountain, shattered pillars crumbling around him as he crashed into the wall, embedding himself in the concrete. The man groaned, barely conscious, his body a twisted mess.
"Oops," Mark muttered, not even a hint of remorse in his voice. He didn't care if Gus died now, especially not after what he'd been about to do.
"RAAAAAAH!!!" A scream split the air, and Mark turned just in time to see Larry charging at him, his arms engulfed in a blaze. The man was a wrecking ball of fire, launching a massive inferno toward Mark. Without hesitation, Mark raised his arm, manipulating gravity around him. The flames shifted in midair, turning and racing back at Larry. The heat from the flames scorched the air, and Larry's screams rang out as his body was consumed. Mark watched, unfazed, as Larry writhed in agony, his skin blackened and charred from the intense heat. It didn't take long before Larry's struggles died down, his body going limp. The flames flickered and snuffed out, leaving behind only the smell of burning flesh.
Mark glanced down at Batgirl's limp body. She wasn't moving, but she was still breathing. He wasn't about to leave her here after what they'd done. With a grunt, he bent down, scooping Batgirl up effortlessly in his arms. As he rose into the air, he didn't even look back at the wreckage. The mall was a mess, but it wasn't his problem. Mark shook his head, irritated by how these idiots managed to take her down, she should've been able to deal with them easily.
He shot through the ceiling, flying upwards toward his mom's apartment. The air whipped past him as he carried Batgirl out of the wreckage, the mall below him fading into the distance. She needed to rest, to heal. He didn't care if she wasn't exactly friendly with him. As he landed at his mom's apartment, he gently set Batgirl down on the couch. He checked her pulse, her breath steady but slow. She'd be fine, eventually. He didn't know if she'd ever thank him for this, but it didn't matter. They were even now.
Heading to the kitchen he grabbed the first aid kit from beneath the sink. His Mom always kept one here when he'd get into fights back in the day. Sitting next to her he carefully removed her uniform while keeping her mask off, luckily she wore a sports bra and underwear otherwise he'd likely get a slap when she woke up. Covering her burns in an antiseptic cream and covered them in bandages before throwing a blanket over her.
His Mom wouldn't be back home till 7pm so he had some time to hopefully let her rest and get rid of her. Leaning against the wall he shot a text to Kara explaining he would probably be home tomorrow and he'd explain then.
He then sighed he'd definitely be ordering online next time.
(AN: I feel like Mark and Barbara's reunion is long overdue, considering they used to be friends. Should she be part of the harem? I feel like she should but idk, it feels a little bad to have her be a wham bam thank you ma'am, idk I'll think about it. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter.)
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