III.

A foreign hand and run-away horses…

The second the door opened to the apartment, Mag stood. The blonde had been worried sick, pacing and crying and calling Fiona's phone repeatedly. The blonde was gripping Melon, the small tabby cat and stroking his fur furiously.

Melon dropped to the ground with a small meow before trotting off in the direction of the kitchen, aware of the coming of a storm between the two women who owned the apartment. The blonde's hands flew to her hips and the cigarette hung from the corner of her mouth as she puffed a cloud of smoke into the air, only for it to be swept up by the fan on the ceiling and dispersed across the room.

Fiona kicked her boots off and rushed in, a grin plastered on her bruised and bloodied face.

Mag gasped.

"Mag I gotta—"

"What the fuck happened to you?" The older woman rushed forward, her eyes widening at Fiona's now swollen nose and black eye. She grasped her friend by the hand before tugging her into the kitchen and kicking Melon out of the way, earning a rather surprised garbled noise from the overweight feline.

Mag rummaged through the fridge clumsily before coming across a piece of frozen pizza. Tugging it out of the freezer, she carelessly threw it to Fiona before commanding she put it on to help the swelling.

Fiona just stared at it.

"Pizza? Really?" the lanky woman asked, a smile floating across her face, "Why don't we use some ice?"

Mag's mouth formed an 'o' as she clutched the pizza and took a bite out of it, shrugging nonchalantly before grabbing bag of ice. Placing it in Fiona's hands, the blonde put her pizza down, not even sparing the cat a glance as it hopped onto the counter and began to nibble at the food.

"Where were you last night? I called you at least 30 times. I was worried you had been killed or raped or mugged or kidnapped or—"

"Mag. I'm fine. Listen, I met this guy—"

"You met a guy? Really?" Mag leaned forward, shock written across her features, "Is he a dealer to? Maybe a customer—"

"Mag, shut up. Listen. I met a guy an' he offered me a job."

Mag's brow furrowed. "I don't like this."

"Neither did I, 'til he explained who he was," she muttered, giving Melon a pat as he mewed for attention.

"That still doesn't explain your face, kid."

"One of his guys threw me into a table. No biggie. But, anyways, this guy's name is Bane—"

"Bane. Like, the Bane?" Mag screeched, "No. Nooo, no no no. Nope. No way kiddo. You're not going down that road."

"200 dollars a week, Mag."

The blonde straightened and popped her lips. "Okay. Alright. Maybe you can go down that road. What's the catch?"

"Uh, I gotta help him kill the Bat and burn Gotham?"

"Burn like…?"

"I think he meant figuratively and literally."

Mag nodded, shrugging before a frown pulled on her features. She scooped Melon up, earning a small garble of frustration from the Tabby. He began to squirm, his paws flying about in a rapid and dire manner. Mag rolled her eyes and hoisted the feline over her shoulder, much like a child and rubbed his back.

"I dunno, Fio… 200 dollars a week seems a bit shady… And what about your deals? You can't just quit."

Fiona frowned. "I'm gunna keep dealin', Mag. I gotta. Every week, I'll come home an' bring you the money. From the deals and the burning of Gotham," Fiona laughed a little when she said this, "How bad could it be, Mag?"

Mag scowled, her eyes flicking over Fiona's face.

"Just don't die, okay?"