First, the guy with the gun.
Barbara dropped behind the nearest of Joker's goons, crouched and launched herself back up. One escrima stick in the back of the knee to drop him. The other met the back of his skull on the way down.
Next, the guy with the knife.
He'd had a knife, anyway. He had a broken wrist now. A wrist she caught between both her sticks and snapped when he lunged at her. She let the arm drop and swung her weapons back and over her shoulders, onto his head. The sad clown make-up looked perfect as he fell to the floor.
And now the mop up.
She dropped and swung a sweeping kick to meet the last thug as he charged her, sending him barrelling into a wall.
Easy.
The hostage was crying, curled fetal with his back to her from the corner of the room. Odd, for a police officer in Gotham. They've usually seen worse.
"It's Ok," Barbara took a step towards him. "It's me. Batgirl."
The sobbing got worse. Louder. Hysterical. And then Barbara froze. He wasn't crying at all.
"What's wrong ?" the officer crooned. "Aren't you going to rescue me ?"
"Not exactly." Barbara's eyes scanned for exits. Her feet took a fighting stance.
"Well then", said Joker, twisting round to face her until he was lounging, in a blood-stained police officer's uniform, on his side. "Why don't you rescue Commissioner Gordon instead... ?"
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