Well, I knew I was getting excessive with "Chickenverse," but, GK #26 really really rubbed me the wrong way. Timmy's obviously suffering from Dixon's Disease, Alien Fish Larve, and the serious need to be whacked by poultry.

Standard Disclaimers apply.

Chickens and Rooftops

Stephanie Brown came out to the kitchen with her bundle of raw slimy chicken and tossed it onto the counter. Batgirl had some serious problems—showing up in her bedroom and whacking her, out of nowhere, with this chicken, then leaving it on her lawn. It made her feel good inside—Batgirl wasn't so perfect after all.

Beneath the sink were piles of newspapers waiting to be recycled. She pulled out the Sunday paper and planned to wrap the sinking mess with the front page—and that stupid picture of that rich guy, Wayne.

Closing the door to the cubbord, Stephanie stopped, staring at the mug shot. She hadn't been able to find Batman since…


She turned back to the counter and it's disgusting contents, but the chicken was gone.

Stephanie tossed the newspaper onto the counter next to the slimy film on the counter and leaned against it, sighing. Batgirl REALLY had some issues she needed to work out.

* * *

Cassandra watched quietly and unnoticed from above as Nightwing and Robin's conversation came to a close in the dark, smoky alley. Nightwing stood there fuming, and Robin marched off. Nightwing didn't stay around Gotham enough, and Robin had been just mean.

She followed Robin across town until he came to rest on the shining glass tower he liked to sit on when he thought about stuff. Deciding to give him a little warning, she landed harder than usual on the roof. There was a brief change in the way his cape fluttered in the slight breeze, and she knew he'd heard her. As he turned, she held her bundle closer to her body beneath her cape.

"What's up?" he asked.

Batgirl shrugged.

"Something smells," he noted. He didn't look at her, though. He kept looking out at the skyline.

"You listen to Nightwing," Batgirl said finally. "Batman wouldn't." Why didn't Robin know that? She knew that. Batman wouldn't believe SHE had done that—killed someone—but she had. She knew herself, and she knew him. Why didn't Robin know.

"Batgirl, I want to listen. I want to believe… I just don't know, ok? Let me work this out." He was trying to tell her he wanted some 'alone time.'

She wouldn't leave, though. She had come here with a purpose. "He not do that," she said with authority.

"Man," Robin said bitterly, "you sound like Nightwing. Look, just give me a break, ok? Batman's been totally wigging out lately, incase you haven't noticed. Maybe he DID do it. I'm just saying we gotta accept that MAYBE he did, and no one'll listen to me."

"Everyone dumb," Cass said with authority. "You should talk more," she informed him.

"We all should talk more? This coming from the girl who doesn't believe that sentences need more than two words." He sighed, then lowered his head to his chest. "We can't. Batman and I haven't talked in a LONG time. And you probably saw how talking to Nightwing went."

He looked so frustrated and sad. Cass almost backed down with he plan. She ALMOST felt sorry enough for him to take it back. "Go talk to them."

"Batgirl! There's nothing in the world that could make me go crawling back there to listen to--"

Before he could think, look or react, he'd been hit with a large piece of bone-filled meat. Catching him off-guard like that, it knocked him on his back side, the same way it had with Spoiler. Behind her mask, Cassandra Cain smiled.

The boy's hand automatically went to the back of his head, where he'd been hit. "Was that a CHICKEN?" he demanded.

"You go back to Clock Tower," She ordered. "You kiss and make up with everybody."


Batgirl swung the chicken in front of her ominously. "You go now. Or more Tough Love."