Batman and all related characters are trademarks of DC Comics and copyright of Bob Kane, DC Comics and Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc.

Kick-Ass and all related characters are trademarks of Mark Miller though Millerworld Limited, Marvel Entertainment, and John S. Romita.

No infringements intended. And this story must not be sold for profit etc.

Batman Begins AU ( A Batman/Kick-Ass Crossover)


"Wayne Residence," Alfred Pennyworth said instinctively answering the phone, a little surprised that he'd get a call twice in the space of a few minutes. He gave a shake of his head, knowing it was either his friend and master, Bruce Wayne, calling to tell him something he'd forgotten about, which he admitted was highly unlikely, or it was some unknown person in India trying to sell him something he didn't want from a company right here in America.

"Mister Pennyworth?" an unfamiliar voice asked. "I'm Sergeant Marcus Williams with the New York Police Department.Are you aware that your great-niece, Melinda Macready, was orphaned about two months ago."

"What happened?" he asked, remembering the the young girl he'd met briefly during a short holiday a couple years back.

"We're not entirely sure," Williams admitted. "But we suspect it might have been drugs or gang related. Shortly before Mindy was born..." Alfred listened as Williams told him about how her father had once been a cop until he'd been false convicted of drug related offences after attempting to take down one of the biggest crime bosses in New York. He'd been eventually cleared, but that had been done posthumously. "He got involved in vigilante justice and a little over his head. For the moment I've got temporary custody of his daughter, but that won't last long. My job means that I can't be there for her at all times and she'd eventually get placed into foster care by child services. I'd rather that didn't happen."

"I take it," Alfred stated. "That I'm her only living relative and that I've been granted custody rights."

"Not her only relative," Willams answered. "But the only one child services knows can look after her. Your record with Bruce Wayne is exemplary."

Oh bugger, Alfred mentally swore. I'm going to be a little late picking up Master Wayne. "Sergeant Williams," Alfred reached for a memo pad, jotting down a quick reminder. "Where's Miss Macready right now?"

"I've got her right here with me at the station. Why?"

"I've got to pick up my employer from Kathmandu. Can you have her and her possessions at JFK in two hours?"

"Where!?" the sounds of typing increased briefly. No doubt, Alfred assumed the cop was doing a search on the internet.


It had been two days since Bruce Wayne had contacted Alfred and began following his instructions; making his way to an unpaved landing strip in Kathmandu. The only structures were a small corrugated steel shed at the far end and a windsock atop a relatively tall pole. A dot emerged from clouds in the eastern sky, quickly growing larger and resolving into the shape of a small plane. In mere moments, the plane had landed and taxied to a stop. It was a gleaming Wayne Enterprises Gulfstream G550 business jet.

He ran towards it, as it's exit opened up and a small set of steps thudded down to the partially maintained tarmac. Alfred, immaculately dressed in a pressed tweed suit, descended and approached Bruce who stopped just before him. "Master Wayne, you've been gone a long time."

Bruce grinned. "Yes, yes I have."

It had been seven years since Bruce had seen Alfred Pennyworth and left America as a stowaway aboard a cargo ship. In many ways Bruce was no longer the same person. His experiences living on the streets, stealing to survive, being held in a brutal Asian prison and training with the League of Shadows had changed him. But, he still felt a wave of familiar intense affection for the courtly Englishman who stood before him.

Alfred looked him over. Scanning him from head to toe. Bruce knew what he was seeing. A greasy long black haired, bearded man in filthy black rags. "You look rather fashionable," Alfred quipped. "Apart from the dried blood."

Something caught Bruce's eyes. He glanced up at the entryway into the jet. Poking her head nervously out of the jet entrance was the head of a young blonde girl, hair tied back in a pair of pigtails, maybe about ten years old watching them talk. She gave the impression of just being a nervous and slightly shy, but her blue eyes said otherwise. They were intelligent watchful, keeping both himself and Alfred under observation. She'd probably also heard every word. "Who's the girl?"

"My great niece," Alfred told him turning back towards the jet with Bruce in tow. "I've just been given custody."

"What happened?" Bruce asked, watching as the girl's head disappeared quickly as she realised the two were heading towards the jet.

Quickly, scampering back into her seat, Mindy Macready tried to look as though she'd never left her seat as her great-uncle led Bruce Wayne into the jet. Only pausing to bring up the steps and secure the hatch as the engines revved.

She took the moment to have another glance round the plane as Alfred and Mister Wayne took their seats. Each facing one another with Alfred next to herself allowing her to sit next to the window. Its interior was well appointed, featuring many things in common with the plane Frank D'Amico had once owned. Plush leather seats – thankfully not a garish orange, but a pleasant off-white cream colour – padded bulkheads and a first rate food service. She hadn't spotted it yet, but if it was like Frank's plane, it probably also had a small arms locker.

In the moment it took her to look around then return her gaze to her fellow passengers, the plane had become airborne. It was then she noticed it. "What the fuck is that smell?" Almost immediately she placed her hand over mouth, feeling her cheeks flush. Next to her, Alfred paused in mid-action as he handed a glass of orange juice to Bruce. He just looked at her, then glanced at Bruce.

"Out of the mouths of children," Alfred stated, his expression a mix of disapproval and humour. Handing the glass to Bruce, he sat back down. "Bruce Wayne, allow me to introduce my great-niece Melinda Macready. Melinda Macready, Bruce Wayne."

"Pleasure," Bruce said, reaching up to the overhead AC unit. First waving some of the smelly air at her, making her wince then directing the blower at her, giving her a gust of fresher air. "Call me Bruce."

"If you call me Mindy," she stated, getting very interested in the view out the window."

"She's right though, you do need to clean up before we reach Gotham." Alfred said, before taking in a deep breath. "You coming back for good?"

Bruce took a sip of his orange juice. "As long as it takes. He gave Mindy a glance. "I'm going to show Gotham that the city doesn't belong to the criminals or the corrupt."

Alfred leaned back in his chair. "You know, during the depression, your father nearly bankrupted Wayne Enterprises combating poverty. He believed that his example would inspire the wealthy of Gotham to save their city."

"Did it?"

"In a way... Your parents' murder shocked the wealthy and powerful into action."

Mindy looked at Bruce, a familiar sad expression on her face. He didn't say anything, didn't have too. Bruce wore the same expression when his parents had been killed. Silently, he wondered how her parents were killed. He'd learn in due time. Bruce gave her a nod. "People need dramatic examples to shake them out of their apathy. I can't do this as Bruce Wayne. A man is just flesh and blood; he can be ignored or destroyed. But a symbol... as a symbol I can be everlasting, incorruptible."

Mindy, he saw now had his full attention, taking in his every word. Somehow, he was sure, Mindy knew what he was talking about. "Like a disguise, another persona." Mindy supplied.

"What symbol?" Alfred asked.

"I'm not sure," Bruce admitted. "Something elemental, something terrifying."

"I assume, sir, that as you're taking on the criminal underworld, that this 'symbol' – persona as Mindy put it – will be something to protect those you care about from reprisals."

"You're thinking of Rachel?" Bruce nodded again.

"Actually," Alfred said seriously. "I was thinking of myself and Mindy. Her mother, my niece, died shortly after she was born. Her father to vigilantism when he underestimated a major New York crime boss and got himself killed... live on the internet I might add."

"You saw it?" Bruce looked at Mindy, silently wincing. He knew Alfred wouldn't have mentioned it if she hadn't known.

Mindy just nodded.

He looked back Alfred. "Have you told anyone I'm coming back?"

Alfred shook his head. "I haven't yet figured out the legal ramifications of bringing you back from the dead."

"Dead?" Bruce blinked. "You had me declared dead?"

"You were gone seven years," Alfred explained. "No phone call, no letter, not one sighting." Alfred wasn't angry, at least not at him. More like disappointed, just as was with Mindy's cussing. "Actually, it wasn't me." Alfred resumed. "It was Mister Earle. He liquidated your majority shareholdings and went public. It gave the company quite a bit of capital."

"Wow," Mindy said, sounding slightly sarcastic, but in a friendly way. "Never thought I'd meet a real life Jesus Christ."

Bruce shook his head, silently wondering about the sanity of Alfred's relatives "Just as well I left everything to you, Alfred."

"Quite so, sir," Alfred leaned back closing his eyes. "You can borrow the Rolls, if you like. Just make sure you bring it back with a full tank."

Leaning back in her seat, Mindy placed the expensive headphones over her ears. Switching on her mp3 player, she let the sounds of her favourite song 'Banana Splits' roll over her wondering if her father would have liked the billionaire Bruce Wayne. She fought back a tear as she remembered his fiery end. If what she'd googled on the internet about Gotham City was true, then it made New York look like Disneyland when it came to crime.

She wanted to put Hit-Girl behind her – the persona had served its purpose – and she knew Marcus did too. Yet, she could still remember what Kick-Ass, Dave Lizewski, had said to her about why he'd helped her take down Frank D'Amico: "With no power, comes no responsibility... except that wasn't true." It struck a chord with her; bless the big hearted comic book geek lacking the sense to know when he was in over his head. But, it also went hand-in-hand with something her father used to say about why she and her father did what they did: "Evil wins when good people do nothing."

That was why Bruce Wayne wanted to do what he was planning. He couldn't do it alone, he'd need help. But knowing how to do it was one thing, actually doing it was something else entirely. He was going to need the help of someone who'd done it before and, Mindy knew, it was going to be fucking hard. Marcus had arranged for her father's arsenal to be confiscated, leaving only the smaller arsenals at the three safe-houses he didn't know about. All she had were her pair of Benchmade Model 42 butterfly knifes, the last present she'd ever gotten from her father, and a single Heckler & Koch USP Compact – 9x19mm with a couple clips of ammunition; Marcus had let her have them because he'd read the same things about Gotham she had.

Some of the the things, she was going to need would have to be purchased new which meant accessing her hidden three million dollars. The rest she'd get Dave to FedEx her if possible. One thing was certain, Hit-Girl was about to hit the streets of Gotham.

The plane refuelled once that day, and twice more before it reached Gotham City, just as the golden morning light began to hit it's tall spires. The view reminded Mindy of her and Dave's flight through the sky of New York on the morning after they'd dealt with Frank D'Amico. She smiled, looking down at the place that was to be her home, wondering just what Gotham had in store for her. If only she knew how similar her thoughts were to Bruce's.