The door opened and closed, the tired face of Leslie Thompkins sighing with exhaustion.
Leaning against the wall directly in front of the door was Black Canary and she didn't like the look on the doctor's face. When you dropped off a friend at a clinic, you only wanted smiles. Smiles meant everything was alright, it was going to be okay. Frowns meant bad news and death. Sighs were right in that grey area where it could go either way.
It wasn't often the Birds of Prey went to Dr. Thompkins. They usually could bandage each other up effectively. Poisonings, however, were out of their wheelhouse and they needed an expert's care. Huntress had told them back when she went solo, she had used Thompkins' clinic if she was ever hurt. Since Huntress was willing to trust the older woman, Black Canary saw no reason why she couldn't either.
What Huntress failed to mention, however, was that every fiber of Thompkins' being was a pacifist. The moment she laid eyes on the Birds the first time they had come to her, she had asked, "How many more of you are there and why do you feel as if you need to use your fists?" It had been a little startling, but the good doctor had allowed them in.
Upon bringing Manhunter here, her weary eyes had sharpened and she had ushered the Birds into one of the back rooms. She knew a poisoning when she saw one and her haste indicated there was no more time to lose. It was now the evening after their encounter with Zombie and there was no telling which way Manhunter was going.
"What is it, Dr. Thompkins?" Black Canary asked upon seeing the older woman.
"You're friend is going to be alright," was the first thing Thompkins replied, which caused relief to flood throughout her body. Thank God, Kate was going to live. Canary hadn't felt this way in a very long time. It was a good thing the brunette would make it; she wasn't sure how long the flu could keep her friend from losing her job.
Yeah, that was a bit of a lame excuse, but it was easily the most accepted. According to the news, the flu was bad this year and just about everyone was catching it. Hospitals were ordering their staff to stay home if they so much as came down with a bad cough so that they wouldn't spread it to their patients. Businesses were doing the same, if only to make sure the rest of their employees weren't infected. The DA's office was a little miffed that Kate had the gall to get sick, but they gave her the time off to get better.
Still, despite the way she was feeling, the blonde vigilante couldn't help but wonder at Thompkins' weariness. It stood in stark contrast to the good news she had. "So why the sigh?" she prodded. "You don't look too happy."
Thompkins began walking down the hallway, Canary following behind her a step back. "We were lucky to find the right anti-poison for your friend. If we hadn't, your friend would be dying most excruciatingly."
Well that was a killjoy. "I don't think I understand," she slowly admitted.
Thompkins stopped walking and spun around, which caused Black Canary to abruptly stop as well. "I've never seen a poison like that before. It's not native to Gotham, or even the United States as best as I can tell. This is a small clinic, so it's not like I have all the resources in the world to identify it. We were extremely lucky that I managed to isolate one of the antigens and a contact I have at Gotham Mercy was able to give me the right anti-poison for it. Stuff like this doesn't happen."
The full weight of that slammed into Black Canary's gut. Zombie's poison-edged knife was a death knell and they had stumbled right into it. From her brief encounter with him, she could tell he was adept with handling his knives. He'd be tough to take on in close quarters, not to mention how accurate he was at throwing them. If he had wanted to, he could've put that knife right into Manhunter's back and she would've dead before the Birds reached the clinic.
"I mean, where did you even find this poison?" Thompkins questioned, causing Black Canary to jolt back into the present. It was clear the doctor had continued to rant while the blonde woman was in her own head.
"It was coated on a knife," she immediately answered. "A man named Zombie. He's up to something with a guy called Bane. We were tailing their lackeys when we ran into Zombie."
Thompkins stared at her before she let out an aggrieved sigh. "I should not have expected less. I hope you're about to catch these men."
And Canary wished they were closer than they were. It was by happenstance that the Birds had encountered Zombie, nothing more. One could even say luck, but it wasn't all that good since they nearly lost one of their own.
"If it helps," the doctor continued, "I did look through a few databases when I was researching the poison. The closest identification I could come up with was from a plant in Central America, possibly Caribbean. I can't give you much more than that."
"It's more than what I knew thirty seconds ago," Black Canary responded. Though it did lead her to wonder where Zombie would've gotten such a poison. He either had a contact in the region, or had been there himself at some point. Regardless, it was a lead, albeit one she couldn't quite afford to look into. It was times like these she wished she had access to a computer database.
Mentally shaking that thought off, she then asked, "Is it okay if I leave Manhunter here? I need to go check on a few things."
The doctor nodded her head. "She is in good hands, I assure you. No one will disturb her back there."
Perfect. Turning away, Black Canary turned around and walked back the way they had come. The back door was this way and that was how she would leave this place.
Once she had exited out the back, the blonde woman let out a sigh before giving a cursory look around the area. Her bike was the only thing here, what with Manhunter's being returned back to the Birdcage and Katana not being present. The Asian woman had another matter to attend to, what she didn't say. So it looked as if Canary was on her own for the time being.
"Hey, BC, you there?"
Black Canary's head perked up. Now that was a voice she hadn't heard on her comm link in a long time. Reaching a hand up, she activated the device and answered, "I hear you, H. What's up?"
"You busy at the moment?"
"Can't say that I am. Do you need something?"
"Meet me around Old Main. You know the place."
Indeed she did. Old Main was short for Main Street, a small section of the city that had been there since the city's founding. It had more Mom-and-Pop stores than Downtown, which was crawling with chains, both national and regional. It honestly looked like it belonged in a smaller town than the big city, but such places had a tendency to attract crime families. The old Mob families could run their rackets out of those small stores without drawing attention from law enforcement. It's where the Birds had started their patrols when they had first formed.
"I'll be there," Black Canary said before turning off her comm link. Questions began popping up in her head, namely why Huntress wanted to talk with her. While they were cordial, not to mention keeping the other in the loop with their group's respective activities, they rarely went out of their way to meet up.
Something was up, she just knew it, especially in light of what the purple-clad woman had told her about the Bat. Maybe she wanted to vent? That was entirely possible.
Regardless, there was only one way to find out.
Officer Jeff Peters shifted in his seat. Next to him was Ed Davis, the older guy driving the transport van they were in. Armor plated, made to withstand everything from shotgun shells to RPGs, it stood out on the rather empty highway. There were a few cars, but they were either further up ahead, or way behind them.
Which was alright. They were in for a long drive seeing as Gateway City had finally okayed the prisoner transfer. Seeing as Gotham was short on space, the Commissioner had been trying to arrange some transfers to either free up cells, or shorten down the waiting line for those same cells. It didn't really matter where the prisoners went, so long as it was out of Gotham. Gateway had been the first to accept these three and once the paperwork was finished, they had been loaded up.
In Peters' eyes, these three weren't has-beens. They were never-weres. On and on, they had talked about who was Public Enemy number one, or some crock like that. The Asian-looking chick was adamant about being number one while the black girl was number two and the blonde was three. It didn't matter much since they were all in jail and going to be for the next two to five years. One didn't try robbing a rich man's house without suffering a little.
It was a slight shame though, since they were lookers. However, he and Davis had been given strict instructions not to talk with the women and not to look at them. Apparently one of them did have a legit superpower and the less contact they had with that one, the better. Seeing as they lived in a world of superheroes that could do all sorts of things, Peters didn't argue.
The sun had set awhile ago thanks to Daylight Savings Time. All the street lamps were on, lighting up the highway. In fact, Peters and Davis had been coming onto their shift when they were selected for the transfer. It worked for both of them since they were the night crew and driving a truck was a heck of a lot easier than having to hunt down more of those Blackgate escapees.
The truck suddenly shook, causing Peters' head to perk up. "Did you feel that?" he asked Davis.
"Just some bumps," the driver gruffly assured him, not the least bit alarmed.
Peters frowned. A moment later and he felt the same shaking, only stronger this time. "You sure that's just bumps?" he asked again.
Davis tilted his head to a side so he could glare at the younger officer. "Of course, I'm sure. Don't get your panties in a—"
Suddenly, the van began jerking up and down. Peters shot up in his seat, which incidentally gave him a startling view out of the windshield. The pavement in front of them was splitting and cracking, the cracks racing out in front of the transport truck. Considering they were going a minimum of sixty, the fact that the damage was outracing them was alarming and impressive.
Davis immediately began slowing down if only to avoid them having a wreck. Because of this, Peters could have swore he saw something emerging out from between the broken pieces of the road. At first, it was small and thin, but then it started to branch out. A moment later and the young man realized it was grass, weeds even. Weeds were growing right through the ground, causing the asphalt to crack and break.
That wasn't all either. Further up, something thin shot out of the road, growing taller, wider, and—holy shit, that was a tree! "Turn, turn!" Peters shouted.
Davis immediately spun the wheel to the right, the truck lurching over into the next lane. For a moment, they were facing diagonally on the road, the back end of the truck clipping the side of the still-growing tree.
Still, Davis kept them going, punching down on the accelerator. Unfortunately, they didn't get more than maybe a few yards when another tree exploded up through the road, hitting them right beneath the rear tire axle. The speed in which the tree rose picked the whole truck right up into the road, their momentum keeping them moving forward. This caused the truck to go flipping through the air, both officers screaming as they moved their hands to press against the ceiling of the cab and their respective doors.
And then the truck suddenly stopped. It wasn't because they landed on the truck's roof on the road. Hanging in his seat because of his seatbelt, Peters could see out of the window that they were hovering in midair. Looking out the door window, he saw thick-looking vines pressed against the glass, making him realized they were hanging upside because of them.
"What the hell is going on here?!" Davis shouted as he shifted back and forth in his seat, trying to figure out what all of this was about. "Since when do plants suddenly grown up through the road?"
Before Peters could answer, he noticed something else out through his window. Growing up beside the van as another tree, though there was a distinct lack of leaves growing with it. In fact, there was another one on Davis' side too. Watching it, Peters couldn't help but notice a branch extending out slowing, but pointing right towards him.
Then out of nowhere, the branch shot forward, piercing right through the glass and right into his face.
"Owww," Tiger Moth moan, holding her head with one hand. She would've done two if she weren't shackled to bench.
Dragonfly was in agreement. There the three of them were, shoved in the back of an armored paddywagon on a one-way trip out of Gotham when suddenly their ride became bumpy. Then out of nowhere they were flipped upside down over and over, the three women bashing their bodies all over the inside of the mobile prison. The dark-haired woman personally felt battered and bruised.
"What is going on?" Silken Spider asked, her tone weary.
"No idea," Dragonfly answered even as she looked down...up at her shackles and chains. They were the only reason why she was hanging upside down and not lying on the roof—now floor—of the truck.
That was when they all heard a sound. Jerking their heads to the door, they stared at it as they heard scratching noises coming from it. Dragonfly squinted her eyes as she watched, as if that would improve her vision.
That was when something brown and thin slipped through the crease between the doors. It hung there for a moment before it slid upward, stopping. A few more of those stick-like things then emerged through the crack as well, all of them bending either left or right, pressing down on the doors' surface.
A more familiar sound was made, the sound of metal squealing as it protested the strain put on it. Suddenly, the doors were ripped out of place, causing the three women to cry out in surprise. Oh God, what was going on? What was happening?! Were they under attack?
Though upside down, they could see the empty highway stretching far away, the sight of Gotham's skyscrapers against the dark sky. However, due to the light from the street lights, Dragonfly could see someone standing on the broken street.
Suddenly, the van started to move, tilting downwards as Dragonfly's view was diagonal to the road. This gave her a perfect view of a red-haired woman, who was looking up at them through the open doorway. She was dressed in green, though she could've swore the outfit was made of leaves.
"Good evening, ladies," the redhead greeted them, her voice sounding very familiar. "I hope you haven't forgotten about me."
"I know you!" Tiger Moth shouted. "Is that you, Isley?"
Oh, it was their boss. What the hell was she doing out here dressed in foliage? Dragonfly was pretty certain the woman had discarded them the moment they were captured. "Why, yes, it's me, though I've recently undergone some changes," Isley replied.
"Well, whatever it is, can you use them to get us loose?" Tiger Moth questioned. "I don't know about you, but I don't like being strung up like a piñata."
"Sooner would be better than later," Silken Spider added.
"Well, now that entirely depends on what you'll do if I do free you," Isley responded lazily. "Are you three interested in finishing a job?"
"Yeah, sure, we are," Dragonfly quickly answered. "Whatever it is you want."
A coy smile appeared on Isley's face. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Just when you thought that this town couldn't get any weirder, it had to pull an ace or twenty out of its sleeve and show you just how wrong you were. Bullock had the urge to scratch his head at the latest example of weirdness, one that involved a transport no less.
The large vehicle was in the middle of being manhandled...about twenty feet in the air by what looked like a bunch of weeds and vines and a couple of giant ass trees. The back of the transport truck was ripped open, the torn-apart metal doors resting on the street below. As for said street, much of it was torn up and boy were the guys at the DOT going to be pissed.
The statements from the, ahem, survivors—and by that he meant the people driving behind the transport truck since the driver and passenger were dead—all told the same story of the road shaking, trees growing out of nowhere, the truck being picked up into the air, and then some green lady busting her way in and kidnapping the three crooks inside of it. And wouldn't you know it, they had managed to ID the three women that were taken.
They were the costumed ladies that tried to rob Wayne Manor. Go fig. So now came the question of who did this and why did they—excuse him, she—want those three in particular?
"Do tell me this isn't typical," Sawyer remarked as she too stared up at the transport bus.
"This isn't typical," Bullock answered simply. "How perfect is this. We're still trying to catch all the rats that got out of Blackgate and now this happens. We got one of those metas on our hands or something?"
"If I were a betting woman, I'd say meta," Sawyer agreed. "I thought I had left those back in Metropolis."
"From what I hear, they're coming out of the woodwork," the lieutenant grumbled as he scuffed a foot against the asphalt beneath them. "Like we don't have enough problems."
"So who would want three ladies who call themselves Tiger Moth, Dragonfly, and Silken Spider?" Sawyer wondered.
"Beats the heck out of me, but that's what we gotta find out." Turning away from the sight, Bullock paced his way back to his car. He really needed to stop being surprised by whatever this city threw at him next. The clacking of feet behind him told the heavyset man that he wasn't alone. "Something else you want, Sawyer?"
"Any thoughts on how we're going to get that truck down?" the blonde detective answered with a question of her own.
Yeah, they were gonna have to get that thing down somehow and do it without damaging the crime scene too much. That was going to be so much fun for somebody else.
"I don't know about you, but I have need to find myself a drink. I've been nearly sober for too long," Bullock stated instead of answer.
He could practically hear the eyebrow raising. "You? Sober?"
"Past two days, not even a single drop," he swore. "The only good thing I've had so far is the overtime pay, which is kinda sad when you think about it."
"I think you and a friend of mine would get along great. So long as you clean up first," Sawyer remarked.
"So long as it's simple stuff, you know, your regular murders and robberies and grand theft autos, then yeah, I bet we'll have a blast," Bullock retorted and roughly pulled open the driver side door to his car. "Why can't we have more things like, I don't know, like that one guy that came in recently. Amtrak-something-or-other, the guy whose face looks like it could use plastic surgery right now."
"You mean that man who murdered that reporter? I think his name is Amherst, not Amtrak," Sawyer had the cojones to correct him.
"Same difference, they both kill people," he dismissed.
"Be that as it may, who do you think brought him in?" Sawyer continued.
"That answer should be obvious, Maggie," Bullock replied. "That he went as far as he did, that should start scaring you. He's never gone that far before, beating a man to the point his face almost caves it. Guy's lucky he managed to survive."
"Huh. I always heard that you weren't a big fan of the Batman. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound concerned," the female detective remarked.
"Don't get me wrong, I don't like the guy and I want him off the street, but like the Commissioner, I do recognize a helping hand, especially when everything's going crazy," he corrected. "He's getting close to the line. Any closer and he's going to kill someone, and then even Gordon will have to sign the arrest warrant. It's been a long time since he's been this close. Anymore and he might not make it."
Ignoring, whatever look Sawyer was shooting at him, Bullock got into the driver's seat of his car. "Now if you don't mind, I'm heading down to the station. Let me know if you find anything else here."
High above the heads of the investigating officers, a falcon soared overhead, circling over the scene for several moments before it flapped its wings and flew away. Air buffeted the feathered body as the avian headed towards the city, descending towards a van that was parked on the side of the highway.
The back doors to the vehicle opened, allowing the bird to fly in, flapping its wings to slow down as it grasped at an extended arm, sharp talons biting into the leather glove that protected the limb.
"Attaboy, Talon," Bird praised as he fed his partner-in-crime a treat. As Talon distracted himself with the delicious morsel, his master began unbuckling the harness it wore, retrieving the specially-designed camera attached to it. Bringing the falcon to a perch, he waited for the trained animal to vacate his arm before the blond man began scroll through the various photos taken.
A whistle escaped him. Never had he seen anything like this before. It was hard to believe any of these were real, but he had seen this very sight from afar with a pair of binoculars. Talon was sent out as a way to get an even closer look at the scene. Indeed, there were wild plants that had torn the place up and captured with them a paddywagon. Gruesome shots of the guards' bodies, but he wasn't shedding any tears over them. They were cops anyway.
Picking up a radio, he spoke into it, "I think there's a new player on the scene. I'm betting whoever it is, they're good with trees. This is some shit I'm looking at."
"Is it a threat to the operation?"
That wasn't Trogg or Zombie. Bane. Naturally, any potential competition would catch his interest. "If my sources were right, whoever's responsible broke out a group of women. Robbery was the charge."
There was a moment before the big man himself said, "Then we wait. Allow this to play out. It may prove useful."
Useful how? Oh, this was going to be something that would attract the Bat's attention, wouldn't it? "What if they manage to, you know, beat us to him?" he asked.
"Then he was not worthy of my time. In any event, we are still poised to conquer. Return to base, Bird, and do not make any further communications."
Bird didn't bother with replying. Who knew who else was listening? Anything else he could say could be done in person. For now, it was driving back into Gotham.
Getting into the driver's seat, he started the engine and pulled out onto the highway at the first opportunity, going only as fast as the speed limit. Now wasn't the time to be breaking any traffic laws because those were the ones that always got you.
Old Main was a street lined with two-story buildings, storefronts that sold second-hand clothes, overpriced televisions, and legal services of lawyers. Gaudy colors were painted onto windows, proclaiming what each store did, each one gaudier than the last.
It was on top of one of the law offices that Black Canary met Huntress. The blonde had her hands shoved into her coat pockets, ignoring a chilly wind that made goosebumps appear beneath her fishnet stockings. Huntress' cape was billowing in the breeze, but she showed no outside sign of discomfort.
"So what brings us out here?" Black Canary asked as she placed her weight on one leg, bending the other at the knee.
"A familiar face, someone to vent." Huntress turned away from her and looked out over Old Main, not unlike a certain Bat would. It seemed H had been learning from the best a little too well. She then sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing, honestly."
The blonde vigilante moved to stand next to her friend. "Might need to explain that one better."
"I've been running with Batman and Batgirl for awhile now," the dark-haired woman replied after a moment. "And it was great. I really felt like I was part of something, you know? Like I did with the Birds. But lately, everything is just messed up. Batgirl is grounded and Batman has been up his own ass. Everything feels off-kilter and I don't like it."
Black Canary had a feeling all of this was stemming from that hitman incident H had told her about. How Batman had taken a bullet for her, which was no small thing. That he purposefully took every single bullet while stalking towards the hitman had to be unnerving. Apparently it was starting to get to the purple-clad vigilante.
"So what are you going to do?" she asked then. "You going to go solo again?"
"Maybe, I don't know." Huntress shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I rather like working with people around me. I got used to it with the Birds and now with the Bats. Without Batgirl around, that's one less set of hands to help. Batman and I haven't always seen eye to eye, but with the way he's burning himself from both ends, I don't see this partnership lasting for much longer."
"You know, there's always a place for you with the Birds," Black Canary pointed out. "It's been open ever since you left."
There was a moment of silence before Huntress chuckled. "What about Manhunter? Didn't you bring her in to replace me?"
"She joined us when it turned out we worked well together," the blonde rebutted. "She's not going to be kicked out if you return or not. Remember, we didn't just band together because we were really good friends—we weren't. We became a group when we realized we were more effective together than alone. It's why we've lasted as long as we have and it's why Batman didn't break our legs to keep us off the streets—though it wasn't for lack of trying on his part."
"He was such an ass," the purple-clad woman laughed. "Still is, though he's more bearable. Somewhat."
Suddenly, a car drove by on the street, coming to park right in front of the jewelry store across the street from the women. Both vigilantes stared at it as it idled. Soon all four doors were thrown open and four men emerged from the car, wearing ski-masks and turtlenecks. "You've got to be kidding me," Huntress said.
Then, just as if to complete the absurdity of it all, the men kicked open the jewelry store's door and entered. "You would think they would know better than to do that in this town," Black Canary remarked casually.
"So what's the plan?" the dark-haired woman asked even as she pulled out her grapple.
"What else? We go in and kick their asses," the blonde retorted.
That gave Huntress pause before slowly turning her head to look at her. "You, Miss Always-Has-A-Plan, want to just burst in and beat them up. No pincer moves, no sneaking through the ducts, just smash and bash?"
"I thought you liked those plans."
A smirk appeared on her friend's face. "Yeah, I do."
Huntress then fired her grapple, the claw flying through the air until it made contact with the brick-and-mortar of the building, just above the large showwindow. Beside the two women was an antenna, one that looked more in place in the 1960s than today. Shoving the grapple between the arms of the antenna and making sure the line was secure, Huntress then pulled out two small, metal clips. Handing one to Canary, H then clipped hers onto the line. "See ya inside," she said before she jumped off the building, holding onto the clip as she slid down the line. Canary was right behind her, clipping onto the grapple line and sliding down it.
As they closed in on the store, Huntress seemed to move her legs backwards before swinging them forward, her cape billowing wide open behind her. Letting go of the clip, she had timed herself perfectly as her feet collided with the window, the glass shattering as she burst into the store. It was a very Batman-like move she had done and it seemed she had learned more than Canary would've thought.
Copying her friend, Black Canary landed on the floor of the jewelry store, crouching down so that her legs could better absorb the shock of her landing. Small pieces of glass cracked beneath her boots, though they did nothing to distract her as she looked up.
Already, Huntress was on the offensive having slammed a fist into the face of the nearest robbers. Seeing another one gripping a crowbar in hand, it looked as if he were contemplating attacking Huntress from behind.
Canary didn't give him a chance. Springing off her feet, Black Canary rapidly closed the distance between her and the man, jumping into the air as she swing a leg, landing a kick to the robber's face. The man was thrown off his feet and flew the short distance head first into a wall. For a moment, he seemed to hover horizontally in the air before gravity pushed him down, the goon landing on one of the showcases, smashing the glass into pieces.
A glance back to Huntress showed the vigilante had done something similar with her opponent, having slammed his face onto the nearest counter. That left two more. By now, however, one of them was pulling a gun out while the other had spun around and was taking off for the back exit.
Without missing a step, Huntress had one of her H-shaped shuriken in hand and threw it towards the gun-toting thug. The projectile struck the man's hand, knocking his weapon out of hand as he cried out. In the meantime, Black Canary was running after the fleeing goon, who had just reached the exit door. He stopped long enough to wrench the door open, but that was all the blonde vigilante needed to close the rest of the distance between them.
Shooting a hand out in front of her, her palm struck the back of the man's head, forcing it to bang against the edge of the door. This, in turn, caused the door to swing back closed, the goon stumbling into it as he hissed in pain. Coming to a stop behind him, Canary grabbed the back of his turtleneck with her other hand and yanked back on it hard. This caused her opponent to go stumbling backwards, the blonde stepping out of the way to avoid him running into her.
By then, the robber had shaken off his daze. "Wait, lady!" he cried out, holding both of his hands in front of him. "I just want out of here. You don't have to hurt me, or nothing!"
"Then you should've thought twice about robbing a jewelry store," she retorted.
"Hey, just listen, man; just let me go. I haven't stolen anything. You go your way and I go mine and I'll never do this again."
Black Canary would've rolled her eyes, but she wasn't annoyed enough to do so. This wasn't the first time some first-time crook had tried to talk his way out of a beating and it wouldn't be the last. "Just get on your knees with your hands behind your head," she ordered him.
"Hey, no biggie." At this, the man promptly dropped to his knees, placing both of his hands behind his head. "See? I'm doing like you asked. You don't have to send me back to Blackgate."
Oh, this guy was another Blackgate escapee. What were the chances his buddies were too?
"Thanks." Black Canary said, then turned to one side as she placed all of her weight on one leg. Raising the other leg, she had it bent at the knee before she kicked it forward, the bottom of her foot slamming into the robber's face.
For a moment, he just stood...kneeled there, looking dazed. Then he fell forward, landing face first on the floor unconscious.
The sounds of clapping filled the store then, causing Canary to look for its source. Leaning up against a showcase was Huntress, a smirk on her face as she continued to mockingly clap. "That was nicely done, BC."
A glance to the floor showed what happened to the last robber, firmly unconscious by Huntress' boot. Returning the smirk with one of her own, the blonde gave a bow. "Well, I had to learn a couple things while you were gone," she replied, humor in her voice.
"So I see." For a moment, the two women just smiled at each other, comfortable with this small feeling of success. "Well, this was a blast from the past. I might have to consider your offer a little more seriously," Huntress added, breaking the silence.
"You do that. You know where to find us."
Strange had been in a foul mood all day. Even now, he could not get the words out of his head.
However, I must say it wasn't all that fun. You see, I couldn't help myself; there's been all of this cloak-and-dagger business with you. People that hide in the shadows as they plot and scheme; I wanted to try it myself just to see what it was like and I must say, it's only for amateurs who clearly think too much of themselves!
So from now on, when I'm up to no good, you're gonna know it's me, Batsy. That's part of the fun, after all. No more secret agents, no more nosy reporters, no more deluded shrinks—it'll just be you and me and my joy buzzer.
An amateur. Him. Hugo Strange. That that maniac looked down upon him, considered him inferior, that was an affront to his intellect.
Yet, there was a point to it, as galling as it was. If Batman were to fall at someone else's hands, would anyone be able to connect it to him? How could he prove that he was superior to the crime-fighting vigilante if no one else knew about it? He had been content to leave it a private affair, but now his former patient was mocking him.
This could not be allowed. The Joker was engaging him in a battle, the ultimate prize being the Batman himself. Could it be baiting? Perhaps. But he, Hugo Strange, was not one to turn down a challenge.
He had competition, a worthy rival even, another person to prove his superiority over. But how would he do it? Yes, there were his little time bombs—various mentally-disturbed individuals that he had twisted and molded during his time in the private sector—but there was no telling how long those investments would pay off.
Perhaps he would need to speed up his timetable. Bring in some new players and see how his latest opponent would handle it. Fortunately, there was one in front of him that had so much potential.
"You appear to be in high spirits, Harleen. Pray tell, what is on your mind today?" Strange asked as he reclined on the couch. He still needed to keep his weight off his still-healing legs.
His therapist blinked her eyes, surprise painting her face as if she had just left some kind of daydream or fantasy. "My apologies, Professor. Now, what were we speaking of?"
"Nothing of importance," he dismissed. "You, on the other hand, appear to have something on your mind, something much more interesting. Do share, child. You're almost bursting at the seams."
"Well…" the blonde intern trailed off, looking uncertain. Yes, it had take quite some time to lower her professional guard against him and to turn the therapeutic tables on her, making her vulnerable to his designs. "It was yesterday." Ah, she was opening up. "We made eye contact. I held it until he looked away. They were so...intense...I can't describe it."
Even if she could not see it, Strange himself could. She was enamored. Oh, there would be denials, most assuredly. Professionalism had to come first. Not that that was an effective shield against one such as he.
"The eyes are the window to the soul, as they say. Tell me, what did you see within them? Or better yet, whatever it is that you saw, do you believe that you are in a position that you can endure the smouldering flames behind them?"
"What do I look like to you, Professor? I am nothing less than a professional," Harleen answered, her voice attempting to remain neutral, though she couldn't hide her indignation. "Intensity aside, he would be another patient to me, one who needs help for what makes him, well, him. If he is to repent for the crimes he has committed, he must resolve whatever conflicts that have brought him to this point, to overcome the role of the jester he has willingly filled, and grow so that he accepts the consequences of his actions."
Strange allowed a smirk to curve his lips. "I do believe you are ready."
The intern tilted her head to a side. "Ready for what?"
"To take the plunge, my child. To do more than sit in a room with that man and be his doctor. You can become...more. Become his confidant. His keeper of secrets. This will be the greatest challenge you have ever faced, but the rewards will be well worth it, will they not?" He could tell by the way she was leaning forward, Harleen was drinking in every word he spoke. Approval, support, the things she had been hungering to hear for so long. Validation of her perceived self-worth. Just another weakness to exploit. "Do you know who your observer is?"
"My...observer?" Harleen repeated.
Strange gave a chuckle. "It's not known beyond those entrusted to his case, but when treating the Joker, a fellow clinician would watch the session through a two-way mirror. This was to not only keep an objective eye on the merry man, but also to debrief the therapist afterwards. The Joker has a singular talent to turn a practitioner's therapeutic techniques against him, or her. A safety precaution, and nothing more. Tell me, is there anyone you see consistently immediately prior to your sessions? Think hard."
"That would have to be...Dr. Meredith," Harleen answered, taking a second to think of the name.
"Ah, Byron. I shall have a word with him and before the week is out, you shall have your coveted, private session," Strange told her.
"You think Dr. Meredith would be willing to give up his post as my...observer just because you tell him to?" Skepticism, how he knew its sound.
"I know Byron. For all that he is, he is a pragmatic and wholly monetary-driven, man. At the first opportunity to cash in, he will seize it. Leave the details to me, Harleen. If it is one thing you can trust, it is the word of Hugo Strange."
"I think Harvey Dent and Jeremiah Arkham would beg to disagree," the blonde intern commented wryly.
"A man cannot repent for his past sins? However would I be able to progress in my sessions with you without some modicum of trust? You wound me, Harleen." He was playing it up, but even he had to have his moments of the dramatic.
"If you can pull strings that will allow me to have the Joker as my patient—and without anyone else watching—I will trust you with everything if you are able to pull it off," Harleen compromised.
Oh, you deluded little fool. You underestimate him, like the Batman had so long ago. When it came to matters of moving Heaven and Earth, there was no one more capable than him, Professor Hugo Strange.
And he was going to show everyone what he was truly capable of.
To Guest: Batman is gonna have to take them on at some point. Bane and Poison Ivy don't allow themselves to be benched too often