AN: He kind of had it coming, I'm afraid. Setting hallucinating people on fire and kicking them out of high windows is frowned upon.

The Puppeteer Patient 120402-Of course we will. Self-preservation. Only it didn't work-he caught up to us about an hour later. It was not pleasant.

Christineoftheopera-Yes, we found that out. Thank you. Shoulders do not twist that way. I'm reasonably certain that anywhere else, we would be dead. Fictional immunity! It's not worth it.


"Oh, dear."

"I told you, I told you setting him on fire was a mistake!"

"Maybe, yes."

The living gargoyle advances towards them. They back up and hit brick wall. Crap.

They hadn't meant for this to happen. There had been an incident with a customer, and then that damned mobster had thrown a fit and brought the Batman down on their heads. They'd booked it while the ass-kicking was going on but he'd caught up to them soon enough. And now, with no toxin and nowhere to run, they're beginning to acknowledge that they're screwed.

"Apologise, that might help."

The gargoyle cracks its knuckles and she nudges his ribs.

"If somehow you were offended by my setting you on fire, I am deeply sorry."

Two things happen in quick succession. One, Batman fires something that shoots a cord, which wraps around her and sends her toppling over. Two, he grabs Jonathan and yanks him off his feet before firing the thing again and disappearing.

A minute later, his (broken) glasses land on the ground next to her and she sighs. Over the potholes and through the gates, it's back to Arkham they go.

She tries liberating herself, but the cord is sturdy-metal fibers, maybe?-and all she does is scrape up her wrists and elbows.

Once this is over, she thinks, they'll have to work on his apology skills.

THE END