Barbara quickly tidied up the library so she could get to work. As she hollered out, "Last call," she noticed one guy pretending not to pay attention to her. She walked over and turned off his monitor. He tried to charm her for extra time but she was having none of it. She told him to get out. As he walked out the door, Barbara couldn't help but notice that the guy seemed to have a nice ass.
She sighed. "I need a boyfriend," Barbara said to herself. It was hard for her; Barbara was not only the head of her library and an important person in Gotham City, she was also Batgirl. For the past 4 years, she had been balancing her public identity with her secret identity, spending her days navigating the Dewey Decimal System and her nights battling Two-Face and The Riddler. Both were very rewarding jobs but it didn't leave too much time for men.
Except for Batman. Barb always had time for Batman. The caped crusader first came into Barbara's life when she was 16 and had taken her under his wing when she came back from college. Everything she knew seemed to come from Batman's wise council. She leaned on him and needed him.
'But where has he been?' she wondered. It had been almost 8 weeks since she had last talked to Batman, 8 long weeks of Barbara parrying questions from other heroes and trying to keep Batman's infrastructure running. She heard stories of him around; Catwoman arrested, Ivy brought to justice by Batman & Wonder Woman, a rocket flying overhead with his cape flapping in the wind, etc. But he hadn't returned her phone calls or relays through their private network and Barbara was growing anxious. She was determined to track him down.
Barbara closed up the library and waved goodbye to her co-workers, making an excuse about having to check one more thing before she could leave. After the last co-worker left Barbara slipped through a secret entrance in the library and found her Batsuit. She was going bat hunting.
***
Barbara flew through the night, the rushing wind blowing her red hair back and tingling her underneath her suit. While Batman had long switched to a plated suit to prevent blunt force trauma, Barbara had always stuck with her leather* suit. It gave her more agility, it was easier to store in tight places, it breathed, and besides, it looked better on her. Landing in the Narrows, she began to look for her prey.
*Well, really a leather/polyurethane/cotton hybrid that Lucius Fox had cooked up. Barbara just called it leather.
Finally, she found him; it wasn't Batman, but instead one of Scarface's henchmen. According to her father, Batman was last seen capturing Scarface and his handler, Peyton Riley. Barbara knew their chief henchman was still at large and she tracked him down.
She saw him, wild-eyed, trying to unlock his back door. As he dropped his keys and picked them up frantically, Barbara went in through the front window and waited. When he turned on the light to his home, he saw her standing there and screamed. Barbara rushed over and clasped a hand on his mouth, her other arm placing an elbow in Mugsy's throat.
"That's enough, Mugsy," she said. "I need information."
"W-w-what do you want?" Mugsy said through Barbara's hand. She removed it cautiously and when she realized he wasn't going to scream she brought her hand down to her side. Her other hand was still up around Mugsy's throat.
"Batman took down Scarface a few nights ago," Barbara said, lowering her voice an octave. "I need to know where he went after that."
"I don't know, honest," Mugsy said quickly. "I'm going to stay far away from that lunatic after what he did to the boss."
Barbara's eyes narrowed. "Why, what did he do to your boss?"
"He fucked her pretty hard. I'm not sure if she'll walk right again," Mugsy said.
'Fucked her UP,' Barbara corrected him in her head. She was surprised; Batman usually tried not to rough up women too much if he could avoid it. Peyton Riley must have provoked him somehow, Barbara decided.
"And you? What did he do to you?"
Mugsy blurted out without thinking. "Oh I wasn't there, I was..." He caught himself.
"WHERE?" Batgirl shouted, startling him.
"I was... I was delivering something for Scarface. To the Penguin," Mugsy revealed.
Now it was Batgirl's turn to be startled. The Penguin was one of Gotham's most formidable bosses because he was smart, careful, and not completely insane. Batman hadn't yet been able to get anything to stick to him. Now that he had a lead, Barbara knew he would follow it.
Barbara thought for a second. It was now almost 4AM, too late to go check on the Penguin. She'd have to get started tomorrow night. She just hoped the trail hadn't run cold by then.
Batgirl eased up and let Mugsy go. "Stay out of trouble," She said, before she turned and ran out of the apartment. Mugsy stayed propped up against the wall for a long time.
***
Barbara returned to her modest brownstone house and tried to unwind after a long day. "Thank God I take the night shift at the library," She thought as she took off her tight leather suit. She hung it up for the night and slipped into a nightie. She stretched her arms high in the air and yawned. As she crawled into bed, she thought about what Mugsy had said regarding Batman and Peyton Riley: "He fucked her pretty hard." For some reason that stuck in Barbara's head as she drifted off to sleep.
***
The next night, Barbara was out as soon as the last light of the Sun flickered and died. She quickly made her way over to the Penguin's casino still dressed in her civilian clothes; Barbara had figured it'd be easier to infiltrate a casino dressed as an attractive young woman than as Batgirl. She had even dressed up a little; gone was her normal sweater and skirt and instead was a form-fitting green dress. She had gracefully parried leering looks and awkward pick-up lines all day at work.
As Barbara entered the casino, she remembered the layout that she had memorized in her head. Following the plan she had come up with earlier in the day, Barbara took 34 steps inside and looked to her right. An unassuming door was there, surrounded by ferns. It looked like it was actively trying to not draw attention to itself, which was exactly why Barbara knew that was where she needed to go. She dropped a tube of lipstick under a roulette table and began counting.
20, 19, 18...
Barbara nonchalantly made her way towards the door.
12, 11, 10...
A drunk pretended to brush against Barbara's body. His hand reached for one of her breasts. She was pretty sure she didn't break his wrist.