Even after all he has done, saving the city, the world, the entire universe, after it all some still say he is nothing but a myth. To some he is too perfect for reality, they think him one of many, an entire corps of men acting as some shadow police force for the Government. Other people say he can't really be human, that he must be some how preternatural in order to do all that he has done. He indulges all these claims, reinforces them whenever and however he can, and helps to foster even more rumors and superstitions in order to keep his enemies guessing.

Only his longest and most enduring foes know the truth. They know he is mere flesh and bone, a mortal, fallible, capable of feeling pain, making mistakes, and having lapses in judgment. Tonight he is convinced he has made a mistake during such a lapse in judgment, and in his rage he targets the scum of his city, to bring them to their knees and remind them that even if one of them escapes ten times that will suffer for the one who flees.

This rage will put four men in Gotham General's emergency room tonight. Not because of Two-Face, Killer Croc, Bane, or any of Gotham's most violent repeat offenders; it is because of a woman, a woman who may be more dangerous than any of his other foes save two. All three of them are subtle, brutish when their ire is stirred, but usually more interested in tact and finesse than brute force. The Joker, The Scarecrow, and Poison Ivy. It is because of her that these four men will be in the hospital tonight; because of her, and because he caught them in the alley, beating a young man to a bloody pulp because he tried to stop them when they started chasing after the blonde who now cowered behind a rusted, piss-stained dumpster.

Three witnesses, none able to truly grasp what they behold. The young man has a concussion, he tastes copper and knows nothing but the ache of pain from broken ribs. His eyes behold only scuffling feet and the flutter of... What is it? Wings. Wings, heavy, black, like leather, but moving, flapping, lashing out, the scalloped tips raking across one of the thugs like razor blades, claws ripping into his flesh.

The woman is too terrified to run. She presses her back to the graffiti tagged wall with tears spilling down her cheeks. Her mascara has run, her eyes burn, her feet ache from running in high heels and her heart pounds so hard she feels as thought it may leap straight out of her chest. She has never known fear like this, and in her fear all she sees is a spirit, a great mass of black cloth, glowing eyes and fiendish claws. A creature which dropped from the night sky like an angel of death, bringing pain and suffering to those which meant her harm.

The third witness is one only the crusader himself is aware of, the thugs and their victims never notice the poor, neglected homeless fellow hunkered down inside an old, rain rotted box, too drunk to even realize what is happening until he hears the snap and the hiss, then sees the great creature soaring up into the sky, leaving the broken and shattered thugs limp on the alley floor while the scared young woman finally pulls herself together enough to scuttle forward and check on her injured would-be rescuer. Just outside the alley lights fall across them and moments later Gotham's finest come charging onto the scene.


"20 seconds from the time I arrived. Their response time is getting better."

"Whoa, the big man giving the boys in blue a compliment. Wish I could tell Daddy that one." Her voice comes in crystal clear over the comm line, state of the art, he could hear her in a cave on the other side of the world if she opened a channel. In spite of this perfect clarity his only response is a neanderthal-ish grunt.

"Y'know for a snot nose punks you hit those guys pretty hard... The Doctor's in if you need to clear your head, Boss."

Another grunt, this one more animalistic, and it earned him a laugh in return.

"Sorry big guy, but I think Selina and I are the only two women in the whole city that doesn't work on."

"It doesn't work on her either." He grumbled, talking through clenched teeth.

"He speaks! And her who? Ivy?"

Another grunt. The Oracle sighed in his ear. "Boss, you said it yourself, legally she displayed all the signs of a reformed, mentally stable individually, completely prepared and ready to attempt rehabilitation into society."

"She's spent her life deceiving people into believing whatever she wants them to... This is going to smoothly for her. It can't be this easy."

"Can't, or shouldn't?"

He gave an 'go on' grunt.

"Boss, let's face it, you don't like the system. You work with it when you can, and ignore it when you can't, at the end of the day your job is making sure the bad guys get put away... I don't think you're mad because Ivy may have reformed. I think you're mad because she did, and now it looks like she's going to get out, and get to go back to living her life, after all the things she'd done wrong."

Within her operations room in the Gotham Clock Tower Oracle winced. An unpleasant gravelly sound was now raking across the comm line, causing her to grimace and tug her headset away from her ears. "Boss... BOSS!"

"WHAT!?"

"You're grinding your teeth."


"...When asked what she plans to do now that she had been released Miss Isley said she hopes to one day re-earned her doctorate in botany and, if possible, reunite with her estranged father Francis Andrews, who has not been seen in public since Isley attempted to kill him 4 ½ years ago.

Both Pamela Isley and Harleen Quinzel have no been out on parole for 5 weeks without incident. According to Isley's psychiatrist, Doctor Hazel Birch, both Isley and Quinzel have been model citizens since their release and the Arkham Institution is optimistic about both womens' chances for full reformation and recovery."

Franklin Pierce clicked off his TV with a weary sigh. The day Pamela was released from Arkham Asylum the U.S. Marshall's service increased their check-ups on Frank and his wife, Julia. He hoped that the extra security was unnecessary, he hoped the pundits and rumor mills were wrong. She had done terrible things, but against the odds, he hoped his daughter really he reformed, and that maybe he really would be able to finally reunite with her on a proper level.