Wednesday, June 24, 2015


A writing group suggested the topic Confession. So obviously I wrote some fanfic.


I confess. I am the vigilante. I am the one who goes out at night dressed up in the costume to beat criminals to a pulp with my bare hands.

It’s not a sex thing.

I’ve never liked bullies. Even before the event – the thing that happened to my parents – I hated the ones at school. The squealers, the brawlers, the sneaking gossipers. But worst of all were the stealers, both the thieves who got into everything and the daylight robbers who baldly demanded tribute. I told my parents, the teachers, even the prefects. None of them did anything.

So I stood up to them. I picked the worst, a gross slab of muscle called Kent. No one liked him, so no one would back him up. The only disadvantage was that he was two years older, six inches taller and half again my weight.

It was a brutal fight. In the end I won. The endless hours with the child psychologist that resulted were worth it, because every time Kent tried to extort anything I was there. One glare stopped him in his tracks. The rest of the bullies avoided confronting me but continued their foul schemes on other victims.

I had learnt a lesson; that if you face down the villains, you become a target of the authorities. So I began to use guile. I spied on them and arranged for their secrets to come to light, for their lockers to accidentally come open, or their bags to fall apart when they carried the most incriminating evidence. The most cunning of them I followed and, identity hidden by a ski-mask, I beat them into surrender.

I was still a child, still believed in justice. The mask is just to hide my identity from those who would use it against me. It isn’t a sex thing.

Later came the hard times. With my parents gone I knew that if there was to be justice I would have to make it myself. With my own hands and feet and most of all with my mind. I learnt how to disappear, how to fight six men at a time. How to out-think them so that I had won before the fight even began. And I learnt to bury my guilt with anger, to hide it all in my fight against crime.

I won’t tell you where the equipment is, or where it came from. I won’t tell you who helped me. You've heard rumours that I was endangering children, even recruiting them into an army. It’s not true. If you ever find them – if they ever give themselves up – you’ll learn they were all adults, all volunteers. Even if some of them are not as tall as me.

They have their own reasons for helping me, for disguising themselves and fighting crime. It’s not a sex thing.

So I confess to it all. I am the vigilante. I am the dark knight, the guardian of the city, the caped crusader. I am the reason criminals are afraid to go out at night.

My name is Selina Kyle and I am The Batman.
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