Timeline: No Man's Land Vol. 5

Thanks to Brad for the beta!

Disclaimer: DC owns. Greg Rucka wrote the issue from which this scene is based. Huntress' thoughts are mine, but Joker's lines are taken from Rucka's script.

Holding the Line

Her cloak isn't doing much to keep out the cold. Of course the December temperature has nothing to do with the chill in her bones. Before her stands a small army of white-faced, green-haired clowns. Behind her, within the confines of the community center, are eighty men, women and children eating Christmas dinner. She avoids looking at the body at her feet. Pettit thought that he could take on Joker single-handed. All he needed was the will, the anger, and the ammunition. She tries not to think about how familiar that sounds. He'd thought Gordon's methods were too soft for the No Man's Land. She'd long believed Batman's rules were similarly ineffective. Now, Pettit lies dead and she's facing an army of Jokers alone.

Déjà vu all over again. Months earlier,Batman had expected her to stand her ground against the combined forces of Two-Face and the Penguin, and he'd expected her to keep the casualties at zero. She had failed. And he'd blamed her for it.

Joker—the real one—is speaking. His voice is jovial, almost friendly. "We're just here to gather some things, and then we'll be going."

She's on her own again. No backup. No cover. No reinforcements on their way. In other words, if she stays, she's probably dead.

"Babies, in particular," Joker continues casually. "I understand that there are four of the little cherubs inside there, are there not?"

She could cut and run. Trust that Joker won't shoot her in the back. Find the Blue Boys or the Bats and… and if something happens to the babies, it'll be her fault. No. It'll be her responsibility. Under her cape, she rests her hand on the revolver in the holster at her hip. She takes a few steps back, away from the stinging smoke blowing into her eyes from the fire in the barrel before her. 'Hoover fireplaces', they used to call those things. Huntress considers. The thing might actually come in handy. She settles into her stance.

Joker blinks. "You're… um… blocking the door, Toots."

She tenses. Her hands are sweating, but her voice is cold. "I know."

His eyes open very wide. "Oh, you've got to be joking! You're not seriously thinking of taking us all on?"

Try me.

"It's just you versus us, now, Kiddo!

I know.

"That's you versus like, what? Twenty of us?"

Eighteen. And it doesn't matter. You're not getting the babies, Joker. I can't let you. I won't accept that responsibility. Besides, knowing you, even if I DO move out of the way, you'll only shoot me anyway. So, damn the odds. Take your best shot, Joker, and let's just pretend I've got a prayer, here!

He sees the look in her eyes, and his grin grows wider. "Well, it's your funeral," he shrugs. "Kill her, boys."

The wind blows her cloak out behind her like purple bat wings as she swiftly kicks the Hoover fireplace into the throng. She's not running this time. She's not going to let the Bat—screw it! She's not going to let herself down again.

Determined, she charges into the fray. Bring it. BRING IT!