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 GORDON, barbara joan, batgirl | a. campanella | lark
barbara gordon
 Posted: Dec 31 2014, 04:38 AM
Lark • 146
barbara gordon • seventeen
detective comics: batman
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barbara j. gordon

barbara joan gordon

17 (March 31)

Babs, Barb, Batgirl

canon character:
Barbara Gordon

Detective Comics: Batman

blood status:

member group:
Ravenclaw, 7th Year


Black Walnut, Dragon Heartstring, 11"

Siberian Tiger

face claim:
Alyssa Campanella

Eventual Unregistered Animagus: Siberian Tiger
James is smiling.

I find myself curious about this. My brother is a bit... strange. He is quiet; he is awkward; and he does not smile often. But, sitting across the breakfast table, he is smiling -- at me.

I'm not sure what to do, honestly. This has to be a first. If it isn't, then I'm at least certain he hasn't been this happy to see me in a very long time. For some reason, his smile feels unsettling. I'm being silly; he's smiling, not pointing a gun at me. Why do I feel this way? The smile I return I'm sure is too brief and more than a little awkward, but he just goes about pouring his bowl of cereal like nothing is out of place. I can't shake this feeling, but I don't know why I have it in the first place. All I can do is go back to eating my own bowl of Alphabets before the letters get soggy. I already see four different words in the milk beginning to bloat: abaxial, brazen, avow, lull. That's a total of fifty points in Scrabble.

Dad has worked another all-nighter. His keys aren't in the bowl on the counter, and his coat isn't on its hook by the door. It's not that unusual. He is putting in a lot of hours lately. There is a lot for him to wrap up down at the precinct before we move, and we're supposed to be catching a plane for London, England tomorrow. For some reason, though, his absence bothers me. Why? Am I just having an off morning? I know I'm not the happiest person in the world right now, but this is a new level of weird for me.

Ever since my mother's death, it's almost a tradition in our house not to say goodbye. Nobody sticks around long enough to warrant one. The three of us -- Dad, James, and I -- are coming and going all the time. Always in passing, it seems. I grab my winter coat from its hook by the door and leave without any words to my brother. Should I have asked him what he was happy about this morning? Maybe there was something he wanted to say but was too awkward to say it? I can believe that. If there is something for James to be happy about, he doesn't know how to express it like most people. He doesn't talk much. He's not a very sociable guy.

Gotham is cold this time of year. There is a fresh sheet of snow on the ground from the storm last night, and I am further reminded that Dad hasn't come home by the pristine nature of the steps. Why does this bother me? I don't know... It shouldn't. I have enough on my mind right now without this unwarranted anxiety creeping in.

Like Bess.

Bess Keller is an excitable, friendly, and slightly vapid girl that lives three streets down in my district. She's also my best friend, and I wouldn't have her any other way. Of all the things in America to leave behind, I'm going to miss her most. I haven't heard from her in a couple days, but she's never fell through with our plans before. I'm sure she's just been busy with the holidays. Not everyone has parents who work through the holidays like I do.

The streets seem even more gray than usual as I walk to her apartment building. Everything is murky -- gloomy, even. I'm really not very happy about moving to England, but I have little choice in the matter. I'm not a normal girl with normal hobbies. I don't know anyone in Gotham who would understand my world besides my father and brother. I haven't even told Bess about my school -- I can't. As far as she knows, I attend St. Hawkins Preparatory School for Girls. If she knew the truth... Well, if she knew the truth, she'd honestly be thrilled -- but then I'd be expelled. I'm not fond of that idea. I know I'm transferring to a new school near the beginning of spring term, but I still can't tell her. My kind don't take exposure very lightly.

But I'm excited to see Bess today -- excited, and also very sad. We have plans to go ice skating in the park, and then we are going to hang out with some boys at the arcade. I didn't tell Dad about the second part, but what he doesn't know won't kill him. He wouldn't let me go if I told him, and I really want to just get out on my last day here. I just want this one thing. He will scold me for it later. He always finds out about these things, and then we argue. But I'm beyond caring right now. If he hadn't accepted that job in London, today would have been just a normal day. I wouldn't be saying goodbye to my best friend whom I've known since kindergarten, and I wouldn't have this unsettling ball of ice sitting in the pit of my stomach. This is his fault.

Bess's apartment building seems weirdly alive. The halls are dark, but there is a whispering in the shadows as I walk down the row of doors on her floor. I'm imagining things -- I'm sure of it. But, then, why does Mrs. Galley look at me with such sad eyes as I pass her in the hall? She knows something -- something bad; that's my first instinct. But, no, it's my imagination. I'm making everything seem worse than it is today. I'm in a worse mood than I thought. I need Bess; she'll cheer me up. I'll still cry tonight, but at least she can make me laugh today.

There are strange voices coming from the other side of the door. I can hear Bess's mom, too, but she sounds wrong. Am I imagining the tightness of her tone, too? I knock, and suddenly everything goes dead silent. There's the hurried sound of heels on tile. That's Bess's mom. The door is whipped open, and I notice an almost panicked hope on Mrs. Keller's face before it fell into an exhausted worry. She has dark circles under her red, puffy eyes. She's been crying. Mr. Keller is behind her now, and I know something really is wrong. Mr. and Mrs. Keller have been separated for almost seven years now. Mr. Keller does not live with Bess and her Mom. In fact, I think I've seen him, like, twice since he moved out.

Bess is missing. She hasn't come home in two days, which is most unusual for Bess. Unlike me, Bess always tells her parents where she is going and what she is doing. Mrs. Keller says she had gone down to the convenience store on the corner, but never came back. She is hugging me. This is all happening quickly, and I don't have time to react -- but, through the empty spaces between Mr. and Mrs. Keller's bodies, I see Dad.

When the reality of the situation hits, it hits hard. Bess is really missing, and, if the GCPD is at her apartment, then it can't be good news. I make sure to return Mrs. Keller's hug, but I can't hold myself back. I have to know what they know. This is why Dad didn't come home last night. He's been trying to find Bess. I'm furious. Why didn't anyone tell me? I'm her best friend! I could have been helping, too!

That's exactly why Dad didn't tell me. If he had, no locked door would have kept me home while they went out looking for her. I know this is the reason, but I can't help raising my voice. In front of Mr. and Mrs. Keller and two GCPD officers, I'm fire and ice as I yell at him. I could have been helping! I've helped him before! He knows... That's exactly why he wouldn't tell me -- why he won't give me details. He doesn't want me to get myself hurt. He doesn't want me to disappear, too.

Foul play.

The way they look at me, the words Dad has chosen -- Bess isn't just missing. Bess has been abducted. The room is dead silent when I voice my observation, and the eyes that look back at me from all around have a hollowness. It's true. I want to know what happened -- what evidence they have to suggest this -- but Dad does not want me involved.

I'm no longer thinking rationally. Ironically enough, there's a part of me that knows this, but I'm too riled to listen. My Dad is calling my name, but I'm already running down the long hall. He won't chase me. He knows he can't catch me, and he knows where I'm going. I only have a few minutes. He'll be calling a cruiser to pick me up and take me to the precinct. That's okay. I only need a few minutes to look; I just need to see the scene for myself. I'll go with the cruiser willingly after I get a look. My Dad should know better. All of Bess's files will be on the computers there.

I'm sprinting down the snowy sidewalk, and I catch a patch of hidden ice. It doesn't even slow me down. I'm in a forward roll and back on the run before I can feel the cold of the snow on my hair. Dad made sure I took Judo as soon as I could lift my leg high enough to qualify as a kick. I don't even think about these things anymore. It's instinct. There's an open manhole in my way, bordered front and back by caution rails, and I'm hurdling over them. I can't be detoured. I'm going to be cutting it really close as it is.

The convenience store comes into sight, but there is no police tape over the door. The store isn't a crime scene. There will be nothing to see inside; it would be a waste of time to check, and I don't have time. This is my last day in Gotham, my best friend has been abducted, and I have to find her.

There's an alley between the convenience store and neighboring, abandoned apartment building. I'm turning into the narrow crevice as a Ford Interceptor screeches to a halt opposite the alley. The car doors are slamming and two men are calling my name: Officer O'Dally and Officer Michaels. I'm not stopping. I'm not even looking. I can see the yellow tape far down the alley -- near the back street -- and then I am sliding through the snow under the crossed strips yelling "POLICE LINE DO NO CROSS".

O'Dally and Michaels are running down the alley -- I can hear their boots crushing the snow. I'm breathing heavy, and the cold air has my lungs burning -- but I see everything. The fresh snow doesn't make it easy, but the signs of struggle are still clear to me. Even the snow from last night did not fully cover the streak of blood on the ice below. Somebody had been dragged out into the back street, still bleeding. Possibly still alive. But... That's all. I know that's all there is to see. There are no more footprints, there's no dumpster to check for abandoned evidence, and there's nothing hiding under the snow. I would know. Dad's always said I've had a gift with these things. It's my photographic memory. If there were something here to see, I would have seen it.

There are hands on my shoulders, and I struggle for a moment. I want to make sure I have everything in the picture. I want to remember the pattern of the red smear and the way the hardened snow from before last night was turned up in uneven clumps. It's a pattern, and it says a lot about the struggle. Bess had put up a good fight, but she did not win. And it was Bess. There is enough blood here to have taken a sample. Forensics will have identified her. This is the GCPD's evidence.

I give in, and they take me back out to the street and waiting cruiser. It's a short ride to the precinct. This happened so close -- right under their noses. I know this building like the back of my own hand, and they let me walk down the hall to my father's office alone. There's no window in there -- no other exit -- and they know I won't try the air ducts again. They'd be expecting that. I'm not leaving this time.

Behind Dad's desk, I sit in the old office chair and glance toward the door. The blinds are closed, and it's quiet on the other side. I only have a few minutes. Dad will be here to chew me out for my recklessness as soon as he's done talking to Mr. and Mrs. Keller. The computers here are far outdated, but that only makes it easier for me.

I crack my knuckles for good luck, and then I bring up the console commands. I'm self-taught, but I've never met a person who can out-hack me. I'm signed into my father's computer in about ten seconds. Barring the current circumstances, I should be proud of that -- but I'm busy. I'm looking for things. I know my way around the database pretty well by now. Bess's file comes on the screen, and I'm reading fast. Their observations are dry and lacking, but it's just as I expected. The blood was a match for Bess. It's labeled an abduction, possible homicide. I was expecting this, but I think my heart just stopped reading it.

That's it. There's nothing else here. I'm angry again, and I can feel frustrated tears stinging my eyes. I've been involved with plenty of Dad's cases, but never like this. It's never been about someone I love. I think I'm going to throw up -- it's not a game this time. This isn't just some John Doe, this is Bess.

Dad is throwing the door open, and I don't even try to hide the fact that I'm in his computer. I think he's going to yell at me, but the steely look in his eyes fades almost instantly when I look at him. I must look awful. I'm-- I'm crying. And not just a few tears anymore. I barely notice him cross the room, but he suddenly has me in a hug. He hasn't hugged me since... I can't even remember.

I had a short breakdown. Dad says it's normal. When something happens this close to home -- to someone you love -- it's different. You can't prepare for something like this. I've seen dozens of abduction cases, and I know there are very low odds of finding a victim with so little evidence -- even less of finding them alive.

Dad stays with me for as long as he can, but he is in and out of the office. On top of all this, he is still trying to close out his desk and put his affairs in order for his last day on the job. I can't take this. Bess is missing, and he is still leaving for London tomorrow. We are still leaving for London tomorrow. I can't! Dad tells me there's nothing we can do but hope for the best -- hope that Bess turns up soon. I'm not even listening anymore. I'm hollow, and his office is being emptied around me.

It's late when Dad drives us home. I go straight up to my room, and I have half a mind to go right back out the window -- but he knows the deal by now. He tells me there are officers in the street below making sure I don't go out the window. It's dangerous, he says. Someone just kidnapped a girl like me -- Bess. But... Bess isn't a girl like me. I've never wanted the break the International Statute of Secrecy before tonight, but it is hot in my mind. I'm tempted. But... I can't. It's not just about me.

My room is empty with all my things packed, and I'm not sleeping tonight. In the darkness, I see the alleyway beside the convenience store. I seen the coarsely turned snow and bloodstained ice, and I'm looking over every little detail as if I were standing there right now. There has to be something.

There's a knock on my door, and I bolt upright. Somehow, it's morning. No! The flight takes off at ten, and it's... seven-thirty. I want to go back there, to the blood and snow, but I'm out of time. Dad is being gentle with me, I know -- repeating the same thing over and over, that Mr. and Mrs. Keller will call us on his cell if Bess turns up and the Chief says he'll keep us updated. It doesn't make me feel better, but I'm rushed out the door all the same.

James is downstairs, ready to see us off. He's quiet, but that's normal for him. He's about to go out, too. Just waiting to say goodbye before we catch our flight. We don't hug. I don't think we ever have. There's a strange feeling in my gut as we pass him on our way out the door, but I'm in too much of a rush to think about it. Even in the taxi on the way to the airport, Dad keeps me busy by going over a mental list of things we might have forgotten. Everything's accounted for, though. I made sure of that days ago.

Passing through airport security is a long and arduous process. We make it to our gate just in time to board, and it seems like seconds later the pavement is fading out the small window of the seven-forty-seven. I feel so defeated -- so empty -- and, soon, I'm just drifting. There's no layover for overseas travel to England, and, when I wake up, the pilot announces our descent into London.

It's been three days. I haven't left our new apartment yet. Something is bothering me, and I don't even know what. It's just a feeling, but it's consuming. It's about Bess. I've missed something. I know it -- there's something. I need to think, but the image of the crime scene doesn't help. There's nothing there, and all I feel is frustration. Dad calls to say he will be late, and I just go up to bed. I haven't been sleeping. With so many questions and thoughts in my head, it's just about impossible. It's worse than the first night. Something is eating at me, and I'm starting to get really angry with myself. I close my eyes, wishing I could just not care. I wish I were like James, in all his awkward emotional dislocation.

It hits me so suddenly, and my gut tightens with instinct.

I'm back in Gotham three days ago, pulling my suitcase through the kitchen. Dad is asking me if I have remembered everything, and I'm answering automatically. James is standing there by the door, waiting for us to say goodbye. He's quiet. He has something in his hands -- his keys. He does this often, fiddling with things subconsciously. His fingers are intertwined with his key-chains. He has so many; they're the one thing he collects. But... there's something that catches my eye now. A small, pink sandal dangling from a golden chain, just like the one Bess always had on her keys. Is it Bess's? I cant' tell. I need a closer look.

But I'm thirty-five-hundred miles away.

family-- Depending on the incarnation, Barbara Gordon has always been either Commissioner Jim Gordon's niece or daughter. It always made more sense to me when she was his daughter, because as his niece it felt weird that she was sleeping over his house literally every weekend and going to visit him almost every day at work. Plus, I love the rebellious daughter dynamic she has in the comics. Her mother isn't usually present in the comics or cartoons, and it's well known that Jim Gordon is widowed. James Gordon Jr., her brother, is a villain in the Batman comics. The fact that he abducted (and murdered, shhh) Bess, Barbara's best friend, is completely canon. He's like Dexter (from the show Dexter) style scary, but even more psychotic. He would kill animals as a kid, and eventually grew into a serial killer.

intellect-- In every incarnation, Barbara Gordon has genius level intellect. I tried to capture that in a lot of little things in the application, like the random Alphabet cereal scrabble and her all but scary deduction skills. In the comics, she had a photographic memory which she used to help her solve crimes. Her knowledge of electronics is more than impressive, and she is one of the only characters in the DC universe able to hack into the Batcomputer and Batman's communications devices. I think it's pretty clear that, although she is a very brave and loyal girl, Ravenclaw best suits Miss Gordon.

sleuthing-- In canon, Barbara was constantly getting herself involved with her father's work. She would help the GCPD solve cases whether or not she was actually allowed to. She was also a big fan of Batman -- which I have every intention of including here on Amortentia -- and ended up becoming Batgirl after helping Batman solve several crimes. In the comics, it started with her wearing a female rendition of the Batsuit to a costume party where there ended up being a terrorist attack, and she helped to stop it and helped Batman figure out the origin and intent of the attack. After that, she would go out on her own at night and help Batman however she could -- even though both Batman and her father told her not to. Eventually, Batman was defeated by the fact that he could not stop her from putting herself in danger and instead began to train her alongside the first Robin, Dick Grayson. Under Batman's wing, Barbara Gordon becomes quite the detective herself.

athleticism-- Barbara's always been an athletic girl. She played sports in school and became a black belt in Judo at a rather young age. This foundation is what made her into a rather stunning sidekick for Batman and Robin. Unlike Batwoman before her, Batgirl was never helpless. She can hold her own in a fight, and she trains in martial arts regularly with Batman and Robin. In this application, I mentioned her background in Judo and exemplified her agility in taking a fall with a roll and jumping an open manhole like it was a set of hurdles.

wand-- I chose Black Walnut for her wand wood because "black walnut seeks a master of good instincts and powerful insight" (Pottermore). Barbara has always had strong instincts which she puts a lot of faith in, and her insight isn't easily matched by others. It is also a wood that values honesty, which Barbara is big on. Highly attuned to inner conflict, the wand will lose power dramatically if its user is being dishonest in their magic with either themselves or others. I chose dragon heartstring for the core for it's affinity for powerful magics. Barbara can be as fiery as the redhead stereotype will allow when she's angry, so the dragon heartstring just seems to suit her. Eleven inches was chosen randomly. I just like the number eleven

lark , est -5:00, bruce & laurel

 Posted: Dec 31 2014, 10:46 AM
chanteuse • 156
SuperAdmin • twenty-one
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Welcome to Amortentia! Your application has been accepted, and you're free to start roleplaying with our other members. Don't forget your claims.
Your last two characters have made me wish I had more DC knowledge. ;-; Anyway, fabulous app as per usual! Do your claims when you get a chance and you know the rest =P
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