Their eyes met. For a moment, the silence in the alley was awkward—at least for her. He, on the other hand, looked far too relaxed.
Batgirl could feel his gaze running over her like a scanner—casual, amused, and just a little too focused. He didn't look impressed. If anything, it felt like he was mocking her.
"You're Batgirl, right?" Jack Kadere asked, voice smooth and unhurried.
Batgirl froze. She had been bracing herself—ready to lay down a firm warning, maybe make a solid impression—but his next line made her bristle with rage.
"You're not paralyzed yet?"
Paralyzed? What kind of twisted opener was that? Was this guy trying to piss her off?
Gritting her teeth, Barbara Gordon glared. From the way he'd ignored the phone calls all the way across the rooftops to now, this guy was clearly infuriating by design.
"Catwoman, Harley Quinn, Batgirl... Gotham's full of surprises," Jack murmured to himself with a smirk. And just like that, he dashed toward her.
She moved to counter—but too late.
A cool breeze grazed her cheek.
He took my mask?
Furious, Barbara launched into a full assault, but Jack just laughed as he easily danced out of her reach. He spun, flipped, ducked—his agility almost inhuman. Her blows landed on nothing but air.
She pushed harder, digging into the extensive combat skills she'd been drilled with by Batman himself. Her form was textbook, her attacks sharp and unrelenting.
And still—he was playing with her.
Barbara's frustration spiked. He was fast. Too fast. Not just physically, but instinctively. Every move she made, he read and countered before she committed. Compared to Catwoman, Barbara had more formal training, but nowhere near the raw agility or real-world fighting edge Jack displayed.
And then the tone shifted.
Jack stopped dodging.
He met her blows head-on.
His punches came fast—blindingly fast. His stance was solid. His technique? Flawless. It didn't take long before Barbara was forced on the defensive. The sheer pressure of his assault overwhelmed her, and despite her effort, she was too slow to adapt. Even sparring with Batman had never felt this relentless.
Then came the hit.
A heavy punch slammed into her abdomen like a sledgehammer. The breath rushed out of her lungs, and she crumpled to the ground with a pained grunt, barely able to stay upright.
Jack crouched down, still holding her cowl. "I decked Catwoman, gave Harley a bullet. It wouldn't feel fair if you walked away untouched."
Barbara glared up at him, tears of pain stinging her eyes. The blow had been precise—meant to hurt, not maim. Still, it knocked the wind out of her pride.
Jack tilted his head, inspecting her like a curious animal. "The whole secret-agent routine? Calling me from payphones? What is this, Metal Gear Solid? Come on. You're Barbara Gordon. Commissioner's daughter. A prodigy trained by Batman himself. What were you thinking?"
Barbara's body tensed.
She hadn't even told him her name.
And yet, he knew.
"You think I won't paralyze you just for the theme? Don't worry, I'm not that twisted. At least I'm not taking pictures," he added with a grin that sent a chill down her spine.
He's joking, she told herself.
Right?
But that smile—it was disarming and terrifying all at once.
Barbara bit her lip, trembling from pain and a twinge of fear. She hated that it was fear. She never let people get under her skin like this.
"Not willing?" Jack asked, then casually let go of her and leaned against the alley wall. He began spinning her cowl around his finger like a toy.
"The commissioner's daughter. The shadow apprentice. Tell me, Barbara Gordon—what do you want from me?"
She pushed herself up, breath shaky. "Your name," she muttered. "What is it?"
He gave a theatrical bow. "Jack Kadere."
"I'll remember it," she said, voice low but steady.
Barbara struggled to her feet, pain radiating through her torso from the earlier hit. Gotham was burning. Batman had disappeared without a trace. With the GCPD crippled and the city sealed off by Bane, Barbara had tried to step up. She'd hijacked satellite feeds, combed through every surveillance grid she could access, searching for Bruce… or even a lead on the location of the fusion bomb. She found neither.
What she did find was him.
Jack Kadere—an unknown. No police file, no rap sheet, no mention in any of Batman's extensive criminal archives. And yet, there he was, taking out armed criminals with pinpoint shots. Evading bullets with a grace that bordered on the supernatural. She had to know who he was. She had to know if he could help.
But everything had gone off-script the moment she made contact. He ignored her phone calls. Exposed her identity. Mocked her. And then, without hesitation, attacked her and knocked her flat.
Now, Barbara wasn't sure.
Could she really trust him? Would he help? Or was he just another wildcard in a city already overrun with them?
She glanced at the bat-shaped cowl still spinning casually around his finger. Her mind made up, she quickly reached for her belt and hurled a smoke pellet to the ground.
Fwoosh.
Smoke erupted instantly, blanketing the alley in a gray haze.
Barbara raised her grappling gun, fired toward the rooftop, and ascended in one clean motion.
Watching the smoke swirl, Jack tilted his head and scoffed. "Classic Bat-family move. If you're gonna leave, just leave. What's with the dramatic smoke? Waste of perfectly good ordinance."
He pocketed the cowl, turned his back on the smoke, and casually walked out of the alley.