Brat

The Day the Night Died

The little girl secured the elastic string holding the mask to her eyes. It had tangled in her wild, curly hair as she had worked. Her hands moved to rest on her hips as she examined her work. The motorbike in front of her was well made, if not a little ratty, and on the girl's hands was left the residue of the pink paint with which she had swathed the Night's symbol onto the side of the bike. Motor oil was smudged on her cheeks as well as her pink dress. She took it in, examining every inch and then broke into a full smile.

"Hello, baby," she said.

The girl stepped up to the bike, swung a leg over and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, splayed her fingers over the handle, and fit her chunky work boots onto the foot lock. A moment of silence... and then - "YAAAAH!!" She was off. The bike flew over the linoleum, speeding through work benches, the Night's car, her father's empty suit display. The tires screeched on the floor as the bike drifted to avoid the incoming housekeeper. Its wheels left black marks on the floor.

"SORRY MATTEL!"

He just chuckled to himself. The bike and its rider made loops around the Nightcave and the gym, tossed the papers pinned up against the map of Gotham city posted to the wall until the girl had finally worn herself out. She swung her heavy boot over the seat of the bike and dismounted, red in the face.

When her father entered the room, she presented the finished bike to him with open arms. "Tada!"

He nodded once. "Good." He approached a workbench with a tablet in hand and threw new info up on the screens.

"It's perfect, Father! Mattel got the paint for me so it's all finished now. She goes so fast! Just like you do in the Night car."

He nodded again. "It's good, Yasmin."

"I know! Someday it'll have the coolest motorcycle in the world." When she looked up at him, though, her face fell. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't even looking at her.

"Is something wrong, Dad?"

He continued to stare at the screen.

"Father?"

His head dropped to his hands before he turned to her. It was only then she realized how serious the situation was.

"What's wrong," her voice was almost a whisper.

Her father took to a knee and placed his hands on her shoulders. "The Warlock has set up quite a trap tonight. It has made me very concerned for the safety of this city." He paused, took a breath, and continued, "It has also made me concerned for your safety. Yasmin, this "base" is a haven. He will never find you here, so long as you and Mattel keep its location a secret. If something happens tonight, stay here. I will come back to you both."

Yasmin nodded solemnly. "Stay here."

"Right. I'm going out. You keep working on the bike or your new suit. You can always be practicing your combat skills."

Yasmin punched him hard in the chest with her little fist.

He coughed and then looked at her with the first smile she had seen on his face in weeks. "Just like that." He patted her on the back and stood up.

"Mattel, ready the Night car."

Yasmin secured her mask once again, watching her father very seriously as he left. He was going to fight hard and save the city from The Warlock's grasp, once again. She would wait patiently in the cave for his return.

Mattel tried to put her to bed but she refused to sleep until she saw that her dad was back. She needed to be there as he told Mattel everything that happened. He always came back bruised and bleeding and Yasmin listened to him as Mattel patched him up again. Sometimes he would return at her bedtime - 10:00. Other times he wouldn't be back until 3 in the morning, and some days he wouldn't return until the sun had risen again. Yasmin was good at staying awake.

This time though, when morning came, he had not yet returned. Yasmin took her breakfast with Mattel, the two of them with proper bags under their eyes. She swung her feet from her chair and waited. She and Mattel sketched out a new Nightgirl suit for her and waited. She put on boxing gloves and worked on the fast hits father had shown her on the punching bag and waited. She painted a pink Night symbol onto the other side of the motorbike. Lunchtime passed, and dinner too. She had dozed off against the table leg of her father's workbench down in the heart of the Nightbase when the call came in.

Mattel had left his phone on the table above her, having stepped out only for a moment to use the laveratory. Yasmin's head immediately popped up, and the call was from her father. She quickly answered the video call. A familiar voice came from a dark room. Not the voice of her dad.

"Well hello there, little girl."

Yasmin immediately set the phone back down and called for Mattel. Before she could hang up though, the light was flicked on on the other end. Her father was tied up to a chair, bloody bruised, and de-masked. Yasmin's face fell slack.

"The night and I have been having a little fun and I thought it would be rude not to include our hero's butler. You are not his butler."

"Dad, what should I do?"

A weak head raised in the background. "Not her, Warlock," his voice dripped with menace.

"Who might you be, little girl?"

Her dad spoke again, "do what I told you before I left."

As he spoke, the Warlock set the phone down in a spot with a nice view and grabbed one of the bloodied instruments.

"Mattel will take care of you. You can have the motorcycle."

Yasmin's hands were shaking as she picked up the phone. "Dad?"

"Keep working on everything I showed you. You've done well."

The Warlock swung the instrument at the Night. A cry escaped him. Yasmin's knees buckled and she sunk to the ground. Tears were now streaming down her cheeks. After a dozen more hits the girl was screaming at the phone.

"Dad!"

Her father slumped forward in his chair. The Warlock only reached for a second tool.

"No! Stop! Father, do something." But all she could do was watch.

When Mattel reached the bottom of the stairs in a run he found Yasmin sobbing on the floor, clutching the phone in her hand. When he joined her, there was almost nothing left of The Night but a bloody heap.

"A little late to the party, butler," said The Warlock with fake remorse, "oh well. I'm sure the kid will fill you in."

A pain filled voice echoed in the back of the audio. "I love you." That was the last thing he ever told his daughter.

"How touching," The Warlock pouted, and watched as the rest of the life left Night's body. Then he spun to the camera, clapping his hands together. "That's all folks!" He smiled sweetly at the camera. "You're next, dear," he sang to the weeping child and the screen went to black.