Trigger warning: discussion of animal cruelty in the last scene, and brief description of posthumous interference with an animal's corpse. Joker has no limits, and he wanted to send a message to Selina. No living animals were abused at any point.

Patrolling with Kala was a lot like everything else with Kala: smooth, damn near perfect, and a helluva lot of fun. Jay couldn't let down his guard entirely – Joker was still out there, after all – but the streets were a little quieter tonight, and he could just enjoy her.

They stopped a street-level drug deal with their usual efficient teamwork: Kala blurred up and got the attention of both buyers and sellers, then Jay flanked her and they left everyone bagged and tagged. Jay paused, looking at the dealer and the small amount of product they'd seized. "Man, this isn't even gonna get you three months. Maybe I should break some bones, give you an incentive to quit selling."

"C'mon, man, everybody's gotta make a living," the dealer groused. Jay scoffed; the guy was damn near pissing himself from the way Kala had just appeared and snatched his gun. So many of them tried to talk tough anyway.

"Find a living that doesn't kill people," Jay advised, dragging him away from his buyer. "Now, are your ribs gonna be enough? Or you want your arms broken too?"

"So's I can go to the ER and get another medical bill to pay off?" Fucking hell, this one was mouthy.

Kala tilted her head sideways, standing next to Jay. "You wanna pay your bills, talk to the Wayne Foundation, they've got all kinds of job fairs and assistance programs. I'll spare you my partner's DARE lecture, and just say this is not the way."

Jay thought about elbowing her for that one, but instead he just told the dealer, "Of course, you're not the one I want. I'm after the big fish, and you're basically a guppy." Kala's eyes flashed in amusement, and Jay managed not to chuckle. "Got a name for me? Your boss' boss would be nice. Maybe you can go to jail without stopping by the hospital."

The man's eyes shifted, and he spat out a name. "Eggs. Just Eggs. He's in the Narrows."

"Thanks, we appreciate that," Kala said, keeping a straight face; Jay never would.

They gave the name to Babs, who sent them a list of locations frequented by Edward 'Eggs' Benedict. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Kala said as soon as she heard it. "Jeez, do they all have shitty street names?"

"Hell, all the other kids probably called him Eggs growing up. It's a wonder he survived the Bowery with a name like fuckin' Edward Benedict." Jay chuckled under his breath. "If this dude is anything less than six-five and 250 pounds I'm gonna laugh in his fuckin' face. Eggs. I can't believe some fucker named Eggs is running drugs in my town."

They'd had that conversation in front of the dealer, watching over him while they waited for the cops, and the man looked on with increasing dismay. "Hey man … I don't care if you get your shit wrecked or nothin', but you do not make fun of his name. He's a scary fuck."

"Don't know if it escaped you, but we eat scary fuckers for breakfast," Kala said absently. "We'll be fine, thanks for the concern."

Jay bit his lip hard not to make some comment on the scarily powerful woman he got to have for breakfast. "You are talking to the scariest fuck in Gotham. You guys really don't remember eight heads in a duffel bag, and it only took me two hours?"

"Stop bragging, it's uncouth," Kala scolded.

"Do I fucking look couth to you? Not like you can judge, you damn near made Scarecrow piss himself," Jay shot back. "Let's go. If these two wiggle out of their zip ties before the cops get here, call it a Christmas miracle. Maybe they'll go home and rethink their choices."

Kala blurred them both away, and they set out to hunt a dealer. Eggs turned out to be a mid-level guy, part of the Falcones' protection racket, and the more information Babs sent them, the more it sounded like he needed to be taken off the street quickly. Her digitized voice informed them, "His file reads like a true psychopath. He does his job extremely well to be placed where he is and not be a relative of the main Falcone family, but when someone crosses him, he gets very violent, very fast."

"What a shame he's about to meet us," Kala said. "Hood can do violence on short notice even better, I'll bet."

"I'm tracking his phone. Looks like he's in someplace called the No Holds Bar," Babs said, and read out the address.

Jay immediately started laughing. "Oh, this's gonna be great."

He watched one dark brow up, his girl more than a little curious. Yeah, she was going to be absolutely thrilled with this one. Of all the places to be taking a Super… "Oh God, let me guess. Another terrible dive bar?" Kala teased.

"Nah, it's a strip club." Jay smirked at her, watching her reaction.

And oh, her face! Kala's wide-eyed surprise didn't disappoint at all. "A strip club. On Christmas Night. Great. Color me ecstatic. How am I even surprised? "

"Ever been to one before?" Jay asked, guessing he knew the answer.

That narrow-eyed look had him two seconds from laughing his ass off. Oh, yeah, this was going to be all kinds of fun. "No," she hissed. "And exactly what the hell reason would I have for being in a strip club, Jay?"

"You like girls, too," he replied, smirking.

"That doesn't mean I go out looking for it like that. I generally don't have to pay to see it, Jay," she told him, a little stung at the implication. "I respect that it's a job, and a sometimes well-paying one, but it's not my scene. Besides, the press would have a field-day; think about that for a minute."

Jay decided to needle her a little more. "That's right, I forgot. X-ray vision."

"Jay!" Kala looked horrified, but even Babs laughed a little. Hearing that, and being a bit off-balance, Kala growled into her comm, "Shut up, Oracle; regardless of the situation, you took your top off the second time we met. You don't get to start."

"Whoa, wait, what the fuck?!" Jay yelped. "Shit I was worried about Nightwing, I shoulda been lookin' out for Oracle!"

"It wasn't like that," Babs told him, still chuckling. "Also, don't mention her powers on an open comm."

"Jesus Christ, Red, do not help. I was just trying to shush the Original Troll there," Kala muttered, still not looking at him. Yeah, he had her good and flustered now.

"I want the full details later," he said, and Kala smacked his arm. "Okay, this'll be fun, taking the resident squeaky-clean badass to her first strip club. Rule number one's in the name, K, no touching the dancers."

"I went to an arts school, you jackass, a whole lot of our dancers ended up working at clubs because the money's better than ballet. I know the rules, I've just never been to one," she snapped. "Enough, let's go do this. Not like we can walk in the front door in uniform anyway, no one's gonna think we're customers. Also, since when do you hang around strip clubs?"

"It's a way of life in the Bowery. Also, I lived over one for a while in Serbia. The girls liked having someone they could call if a customer got too rough." Jay had had a few drinks in the place, but he'd kept his hands to himself and his mouth shut. At the time, he'd had more on his mind than girls.

Kala relented slightly, but her chin was still up and her shoulders were still tense. "Ever the gentleman. Okay. How are we doing this?" She was uncomfortable, but she was going with it. Because it needed to be done, and because Jay had nettled her enough to make her imperious instead of embarrassed.

"We'll come in via the roof and see if we can spot our target. There should be catwalks and stuff above the stage," Jay told her, amused. This was one for the scrapbook, if he had a scrapbook. At the very least he'd have to tell Dick and Donna about it. 'Where'd you go with your girlfriend on Christmas Night?' 'Oh, a strip club, to beat the crap out of a drug dealer.'

"All right, let's go. Soonest begun and all that," Kala replied, and reached for him. Jay was surprised how easily he'd adapted to flying with her now. It really was the most efficient way to get around.

…

Kala landed on the roof of the strip club and immediately winced. "What is it?" Jay asked her.

There was no way to hide it from him, other than stalling for the remaining length of the song. "They're playing Anything for You," she groaned.

"Gotta admit, that song is hot," Jay said, and she punched his arm. "Back me up, Oracle?"

"Confirmed, that song is sexy. She still doesn't want to watch someone strip to it," Oracle said, her digitized voice coming clearly through the comms. "Before you taunt her, would you like me to find out how many times you've watched the video on your laptop?"

"Cancel that, Oracle," Jay said hurriedly, and Kala managed a laugh. "Okay, enough, we'll both be professionals. Let's break in and find our guy. Oracle, can we get a visual?"

"Coming right up," she replied, and a photo appeared in her domino lenses. Jay must've gotten the same image in his helmet display, because he scoffed at the same time Kala did.

"Jesus fuck, he looks like the kind of guy whose parents would name him Edward Benedict," Jay groaned. "What is he, like five-eight? Who told him to shave his fuckin' head to fit the nickname?"

"Look at the eyes," Kala said. "You can't always tell in photos, but those look like shark's eyes. No empathy."

"Oh, scary. He's got nothing on Joker. Let's go get him." Jay sounded thoroughly unimpressed, and Kala grinned at him.

They made their way inside through the roof access door, which yielded to Jay's lock gun in seconds. After that it was all stealth and patience, Kala using her x-ray vision to look through doors and walls so they could chart their path. Once again, she was reminded of how agile Jay was. A man his size didn't seem like he should've been able to move so silently, but he always did.

Soon enough they were up in the catwalks above the stage, where the dancer who had chosen Anything for You was finishing her set with a slow, upside-down rotation on the pole. There wasn't a large crowd tonight, but most of them were gathered near the stage, and at least they were generous with money and applause.

Jay, of course, leaned toward Kala and murmured, "She's got good choreography. Maybe you should work that into your next video."

Kala elbowed him. "I've taken a pole class with the band. That's a helluva lot more difficult than it looks. Now shut up and focus on the job, or I'll send you the video of my drummer doing a martini spin."

"Yes ma'am," Jay chuckled, scanning the crowd. They had a good vantage point up here by the lights.

Kala did the same, and their target wasn't by the stage, so she looked toward the booths. Attendance was low, as she sort of hoped on Christmas, but there were a few men sitting out there, drinking and watching the show.

"Three o'clock," Jay murmured, and Kala looked that way. The one booth she'd glanced right past, because the man seated there was getting a lap dance and Kala couldn't see him clearly. Of course that was their guy.

Sighing at their luck, Kala murmured, "How do we want to do this?"

"Let the girl get her money first," Jay said quietly.

Which left them both watching. Kala couldn't help feeling profoundly uncomfortable. She was progressive enough to have the ideal that exotic dance was work, and deserved respect. She could even look at pole dancing and notice the skill and the coordination it required with admiration. But watching some guy pay to have a woman grind in his lap? That was deeply awkward for Kala, moreso for watching this with Jay beside her.

It didn't help to know that Jay viewed it from a rather different lens. He'd been a sex worker, too. Not that he'd classified it like that at the time, but a thirteen-year-old on his own did what he had to in order to survive. He looked at the customer as just another john, just another man paying for what he couldn't get on his own.

Kala saw it differently. She knew her performances and videos were intentionally sensual, even if she shied away from outright sexual moves. That didn't mean some of her fans weren't watching with lecherous eyes. Kala chose not to focus on that, and she refused to cross certain lines in choreography or costuming, where her father's deeply moral beliefs ran up against the largely soulless marketing of music. Sebast was her unexpected ally in that; he'd whip his shirt off in an instant for a photo or video, but he was the one who asked awkward questions anytime someone tried to get Kala to pose in blatantly sexy ways. There had been one famous photo shoot where the photographer wanted Kala to contort herself so her cleavage and butt were both on display, while Sebast in the same shot stood tall and imposing. Sebast had done the ridiculous pose instead, with Kala standing over him intimidatingly. He'd insisted that they use the photo, which sparked a lot of commentary on expectations for men and women in the entertainment industry.

And yet she knew that her class and upbringing and family gave her a certain amount of privilege, not to mention her powers. There was never going to be a day where Kala had to consider turning her dance training to something like this in order to pay the bills. She had the moves – Jay had ample proof of that – but she'd never have to do it for money. And knowing that she'd never have to make the choice made her feel even more awkward around women who had. She would never judge someone, but she couldn't just enjoy the show, either. Not when all the patrons of the club were staring with hollow hungry eyes. Kala never wanted a dancer to look at her as a potential customer, more as an ally – but without customers, they wouldn't be raking in the money.

The next song finished, and the girl stood up. Their target – Eggs, what a ridiculous name – put a hand out to stop her, and they spoke for a moment as he passed over her tip. "Come on, she's not gonna give you her number," Kala growled under her breath.

"No, this works for us," Jay replied, as the dancer nodded and Eggs stood up. He followed her around the perimeter of the room, and Kala groaned. Of course they were after the kind of man who wanted to go to a private room.

She and Jay worked their way over, staying up in the rigging for the lights, and only once the door was closed did they drop down to the little corridor leading to the private rooms. No one noticed them; the girl on stage had a spectacular act, apparently.

Jay just walked right into the room, catching their target in the act of sitting down with a huge, salacious grin on his face. The dancer whipped around, her eyes wide, and Kala moved to intercept her before she could scream, run out, or otherwise alert someone. Jay, meanwhile, focused on the dealer. "Somebody wanted a private dance?"

Eggs was a little smarter than his ridiculous name. He grabbed for a gun, but Jay flicked a throwing knife into his bicep. "Huh-uh, don't get handsy," he taunted.

Still the bastard tried to fight, yanking the knife out and pitching it at Jay. He missed, and Jay swept in with a roundhouse punched that knocked him back in his seat, but clearly this one wasn't going to go down easily. "Just stay quiet," Kala told the dancer, and turned her attention to their target.

She pushed the speed, finding and removing every weapon Eggs had on him. With his guns and knives scattered across the floor, he still swung at her with bare fists, and Jay dropped him again with a heavy punch to the kidneys. Kala grabbed him by the forearms and shoved him face-down on the table, quickly zip-tying his wrists together.

The dancer tried to skitter out, but Jay blocked her path to the door. "Easy, we're not gonna hurt you," he said, and she stared suspiciously at the implacable helmet. "Relax. We just need to have a conversation with Eggsy here, then we'll be on our way, and he'll be coming with us. I can't have you bringing in club security, though, so just sit tight."

"Why the hell should I?" she challenged. Kala had to give her that; she didn't know if she could've been so gutsy. Especially not while wearing just a thong and a pair of tassels.

Jay just snorted in amusement. "We tip better than he does. C'mon, the guy's a douche, he can't be that great a customer."

"Fuck you," Eggs growled, and Kala lifted up on his arms. With them cuffed, it put pressure on his shoulders, making him clench his teeth not to yelp in pain.

"Shh. Grownups are talking," Jay said to him, then turned back to the dancer. "Just give us five minutes, then we'll be out of your hair, okay?"

"I'll kill you," Eggs managed to say.

Kala shifted her grip, palming the back of his bald head and pressing his face into the table. "Shut up. Right now you're going to jail for dealing. If I ever find out you so much as faked a punch at one of these women, I'll drop-kick you all the way to GCPD headquarters. Can you imagine how much a steel-toed boot hurts when it hits your ribs at mach 3?"

She saw the dancer nod, and Jay turned back to Eggs with slow deliberation. "All right then. Seems you work for the Falcones. I don't expect you to give them up – honestly, I don't expect them to trust you enough to let you know anything important. But I wanna know how your part of the operation works. Who you buy from, who your distributors are, the works."

"How about go fuck yourself," the dealer spat.

"Okay," Jay said lightly, and Kala's head popped up in surprise. "Just kidding, Blur. How about I just cut your eyelids off, Eggs, and make you watch while I filet you?"

Eggs gave a jagged laugh. "Yeah, right. You used to be scary. Everyone knows you run with the Bat now." Kala growled, tightening her grip.

Jay leaned down, and he'd pulled the kris faster than human vision could easily follow. Its point pressed into Eggs' cheek, and Kala leaned on him, holding the man still. She knew Jay wouldn't really do it, but if she let the dealer thrash, he could get hurt. Jay murmured, "That's where you're wrong. Batman's rule is no killing. He's not above a little torture, here and there. And I know lots of ways to hurt you without killing you." He drew the blade down slightly, leaving a thin red line in its wake.

He certainly had Eggs' attention, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I'll tell you a secret, Eggsy. That cute girl holding you down? She's a fuck of a lot scarier than me. You strike me as the kind of dumbass who hasn't figured this out yet, not a big reader or anything, but while you're in prison look up a poem by Kipling, 'The Female of the Species'. Not a big feminist, Kipling, but he knew – women are more dangerous than men. They don't fuck around. We'll talk shit and bluster and carry on, and sometimes we'll let a prick like you go just because you manage to be funny. A woman'll kill you stone dead, and make it hurt every second. Or haven't you been watching what's going on all across the East End?"

Eggs blinked, and Kala leaned a little more of her weight into him. It felt odd, playing the bad cop here, but Jay wasn't really lying. She had the capacity to be more dangerous than he was. The fact that she tried not to be was part of her nature. Jay's conscience would bother him less, after the fact, than hers would.

"So are we gonna have a nice long chat on the way to the police station, Mr. Benedict? Or do I let my partner kick you around a bit first?" The point of Jay's knife rested just beneath the man's eye.

"I'll talk," Eggs said hoarsely.

Kala gave a theatrical sigh. "Damn. Well, there goes my evening."

Jay chuckled. "Take him up on the roof, Blur. I'll make my own way out." Even as he spoke, he dipped into Eggs' pocket and came out with the man's wallet.

"And you're making me take out the trash? Rude," Kala joked back, and hauled the man to his feet. She got a secure grip on the back of his jacket and kicked in the speed, knowing it would scare him even worse.

In the club below, she could hear Jay handing over all the cash in Eggs' wallet. "Thanks. Sorry to mess with your evening – I'll let him think we robbed him. I don't want him coming after you."

"You're not gonna tell me to go rethink my choices and get a real job?" the dancer challenged.

"Fuck no, where else can you make this much money in a night legally? Just stay clean and be careful, some of these guys are fucking crazy," Jay laughed, and headed upstairs.

Kala flung Eggs to the gritty roof and stood over him, one foot planted in his belly. "Start talking, now." By the time Jay got there, he was already babbling, and her comm was recording everything.

…

Roy felt a little weird sneaking around Wayne Manor, but Lian had woken up in the wee hours of the morning, and she was always stubborn about going back to bed. A glass of water and a story wasn't going to cut it. He figured her metabolism was high, like his own, so a little snack would settled her down.

And he wasn't precisely sneaking. He and Lian were both guests here. There was nothing wrong with walking down to the kitchen and heating up some leftovers. It just felt weird, being all on his own, knowing that everyone else was either out on patrol, or asleep. Roy had chosen to stay in tonight, since he'd patrolled on Christmas Eve, and it wasn't fair to ask Babs to watch Lian all the time.

He hesitated to flick the main lights on, and just clicked on the one over the stove instead. That made the large kitchen seem a little warmer and more human, too. "What do you want to eat, squeaker?" Roy asked softly.

"Pie!" Lian said immediately.

Roy shook his head. "No sweets this late at night, you'll be bouncing off the walls. How about some turkey?"

"Okay. W' mashed potatoes?" Lian asked.

"Sure," he told her. As Roy took things out of the fridge, he saw that someone had already made inroads on the leftovers; probably Dick, and Roy wished he hadn't missed the likely epic sandwich he'd made of them.

He made up a small plate for Lian, allowing her some of Alfred's homemade cranberry sauce, and was just about to put it in the microwave when a gray tabby cat trotted into the kitchen, waving its tail interestedly. "Nice kitty?" Lian said, and held her hand out.

She'd already learned that some of Selina's cats adored being picked up and cuddled – the one brown tabby fell asleep in her arms, and one of the black ones liked to follow her around – but some of them decidedly did not. She'd been scared by a chunky black and white cat that screeched in terror when she tried to pet it, and one of the solid grays had hissed and tried to swat her. So now she was extra cautious.

The gray tabby purred and butted its head into her hand, so Lian relaxed and petted it. Roy shook his head slightly and went about making her snack.

"I think that one is Jinx," Dinah said from the hall.

Roy turned to her with a grin, and Lian skipped over for a big hug. He asked, "How does anyone keep them all straight? And aren't like five black ones?"

"Hey, at least we're only dealing with the social ones that are staying inside. Go look around the grounds, there's a dozen or so that won't let anyone near them," Dinah said, coming into the room.

"That one all-gray one isn't social," Roy muttered.

"That's the one Selina calls Hades," Dinah said. "Appropriate, if you ask me. I can kind of tell the black ones apart. There's tiny fluffy, and big fluffy, and regular cat, and huge cat, and Selina's personal cat. You'll know Miss Kitty, she has thumbs."

"Thumbs?" Roy asked, his eyebrows going up.

"She's a polydactyl. Extra toes on her front paws that look like thumbs. At least, that's how Selina explained it when I saw the darn cat open a door." Dinah gave a shrug, and went to the cabinet for a glass, then to the fridge to pour herself some water.

"I'm not looking that close," Roy said. The one named Hades had spooked him a little, too. That damn cat just looked mean. Like that Stephen King story about the pet cemetery, only after resurrection.

Wait, better not make that comparison with Jay around.

Although he and Kala weren't in yet. God only knew what those two were doing. Actually, Roy could guess, and he figured they'd gone back to Jay's bunker instead of the Manor to avoid any further comments on their enthusiasm. What the heck, young love was charming. Even on someone like Jay.

Dinah leaned against the fridge while the microwave beeped, and followed Roy and Lian when he herded the little girl toward the table to eat. "Can't sleep?" Roy asked.

"Babs can't," Dinah admitted. "At least she's not waking up all the way, but she's got this tendency to roll and thrash, and you haven't lived until you've been elbowed in the face by a woman who can do fifteen dead-hang pull-ups."

"That's really good," Roy said with some surprise. "Last I checked Navy Seals have to do like twenty."

"She's using her arms all day every day. I think she could out-box me," Dinah admitted.

"Sounds like she already is," Roy teased, and Dinah rumpled his hair. "Seriously, though. Is everything okay?"

She scoffed. "No, not really. Between Joker and Libya, I'm just glad if she can get a few hours of sleep here and there. Half the time she's up in the middle of the night checking on things half a world away."

"What's in Libya?" Roy asked, knowing she probably just needed to talk.

Dinah glanced at Lian, then sighed. "Steph and Cass are tracking down Lady Shiva, who's fooling around with League of Shadows politics in the region. There's something in the country she wants, and we're not sure what it is. Babs thinks that might be where Ra's al Ghul stores some of that green crystal. We know he's got a stockpile, we just don't know where, and if that kind of quantity hit the open market, it'd be a free-for-all."

Hearing that made Roy want to swear, but he wouldn't do that in front of Lian any more than Dinah would mention kryptonite. Some things his little squeaker didn't need to worry about. He settled for making a grumpy noise, aware of Lian studiously not staring at them, which meant she was listening closely.

Dinah raked a hand through her hair with a dry chuckle. "Even better, apparently Babs is supplying information to the Demon's Daughter, in return for her trying to keep Cass and Steph safe. I just found out about that one, and I'm not exactly okay with it. Babs has worked with some very dangerous people, over the years. I just think she's being a bit too blasé about Talia al Ghul."

Roy nodded, knowing Dinah wasn't exactly fond of the woman who'd almost been her stepdaughter. Then again, no one talked about that chapter in her life. Dinah had believed in Ra's al Ghul's charming facade completely, and when she'd found out the truth – and found out Babs was right – she'd been horrified.

Lian spoke up then. "Lady Talia is okay. She gave me candy and told Mommy I'm exceptional." She put the next forkful in her mouth as if she hadn't said anything unusual.

Dinah and Roy both swiveled in their seats to stare at her, and Lian paused in her chewing to regard them. "What?" she asked with her mouth full.

"When did you meet Talia al Ghul?" Dinah asked, a little sharply, and Lian frowned.

"Jade gets her for a week, once a year," Roy told her. "It's okay, princess. It's just, Talia isn't always friends with our side of things."

"Duh. She's Mommy's boss, an' Mommy works for bad people," Lian said. "But Lady Talia likes kids, Mommy said. And she's nice to me. She can't be all bad if she 'members my favorite candy. Right?"

Dinah's eyes had gone wide, and Roy just shrugged. Kid-logic was hard to refute. "You just have to be careful, Lian. Don't worry, your mom wants you to be safe just like I do. If she let you meet Talia, she must know that she does like kids." Not that he wouldn't be having a stern phone call with Cheshire at some point. This was something he should've been informed of, especially since they had apparently crossed paths more than once. Introducing his daughter to the Demon's Daughter was not cool.

Dinah leaned forward, and asked gently, "What do you remember about meeting Talia?"

Lian chewed thoughtfully. "Which time?"

"The last time," Roy said, not wanting to get into how many times Bruce's assassin-slash-love-interest had been chatting with Jade and slipping candy to his kid.

"That was last spring, when I went with Mommy to Quy Nhơn. We were having really good shrimp pancakes and Lady Talia came to have lunch with us. I 'member Mommy thanked her for having the week off, an' Lady Talia asked me about my grades. Then she had to go, and me an' Mommy went to the beach." Lian rattled that off casually, and Roy had to wonder about Talia's motives. He wasn't naïve enough to think that she was just nice enough to make sure Jade got to spend time with her daughter.

"Sounds like fun," Dinah said, keeping her tone level.

"It was! Me an' Mommy got to go snorkeling, and I saw all kinds of fish, and the next day we went to this cool museum a little ways away. It's all about this old emperor guy, Quan Trung, but it had really pretty costumes and cool weapons, an' they do dances and kung fu dem'strations and stuff. Mommy said they're still workin' on it but I liked the dancers." Lian's eyes sparkled, recounting the trip.

It was clear to Roy that having met Talia wasn't interesting enough to keep Lian's attention, and if his daughter had to hang out with Ra's al Ghul's top assassin and administrator, this was the best possible option. "I'm glad you had a good time," he told Lian.

Dinah sighed. "Not that I want to put anything else on Babs' plate, but since she is in communication with Talia…"

Roy shook his head. "Nah. Don't push it yet. Jade hasn't been in touch for a while, and I'm not worried about the princess here just now. Besides, I don't wanna get on her nerves if she's helping Steph and Cass right now. Once things settle down and the mighty Oracle gets a break, we can look into it."

Dinah scoffed at that. "Babs? Take a break? Have you met her, Roy?"

At that, he could only laugh.

…

After they dumped Eggs at the police station, Jay used a burner phone to call in a report of cries for help coming from the man's house. That would get the GCPD in the front door to find all the evidence they needed of his drug-dealing and other illicit activities. "All in a night's work," Jay sighed happily.

Kala crossed her arms, looking displeased. "I don't like that they think they can dismiss you now that you're working with the Bats again."

Jay scoffed. "So what? I don't give a shit what they think."

"I do. I don't want you going all eight-heads-in-a-duffel-bag again, but I don't like them underestimating you." She paced the roof, looking down at the precinct across the street. "Especially not because you're running with me."

"I doubt you're a factor. It's Batman," Jay said. "You forget, these people saw me go to war with the guy, and now we work together. They don't know about all the rest of it, but they think I've softened up."

"And I don't like that, 'cause it's not true," Kala countered. "You told me in the beginning you didn't want to ruin my reputation. I don't want to ruin yours, either."

Jay couldn't help laughing a little. "It's not you, K. And anyway, guys like that are talking out their ass half the time anyway. They hope I've gone soft, because if I haven't, they're gonna get stomped on. Just 'cause I put people in jail instead of the morgue doesn't mean I've gone all pacifist and shit. I do what needs to be done. It's just, most of the time there's ways to do it without killing."

"Yeah, there are," she admitted. Jay saw the mulish set of her jaw, and touched her elbow lightly.

"And there are some people who really need killing. We both know Joker's one of them. I'm trying not to be like that saying – to a man whose only tool is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. I need to change up my playbook now and then. It's fine, K. I don't need respect from a bunch of drug-dealing assholes. I get that at home." He drew her close, and she finally relented a little.

"I just don't want it to even look like I'm trying to change you," Kala explained.

She had, and they both knew it. Jay was a lot more comfortable in his own skin, now. He found it easier to let down his guard with Bruce and the rest. And he was letting himself feel things again that he'd kept on lockdown since his resurrection. Those were changes Jay liked and was glad to have made. Not something Kala had pushed him into or demanded of him. It was simply that her presence knocked some things loose inside him, and he'd been able to put them back together in a more functional configuration.

That was more growth than change, Jay thought, and he caught her shoulders gently. "You're all right, K. Now if you try to convince me to go vegetarian, we're gonna fight."

Kala laughed. "Yeah, no. I know a losing battle when I see one. I'd never separate you from your beloved chili dogs."

"See? I knew you were the perfect woman for me," Jay said. It was meant as lighthearted teasing, but it echoed a little too truthfully.

She smiled, but there was a little reserve in it. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he told her. And he was, even if a finger of the cold wind touched the back of his neck, remembering his nightmare. Jay wasn't used to having anything perfect that he could actually keep for long.

Luckily for him, Kala was breaking that streak.

…

At the end of his patrol with Red Robin, Batman stopped by Park Row. Catwoman's building was unusually quiet, with the notice about the fictitious mold abatement plastered on every door. Nothing moved, inside or nearby. That in itself was eerie, and he didn't like seeing the place without lights in the windows or cats on the fire escape.

Tim checked their sensors. "No indications of entry."

"Let's check the roof," Bruce said.

They scaled the building opposite and scoped out the roof before swinging over with their grapnels. Again, nothing seemed disturbed. Selina's apartment had a light in the kitchen on a timer, but that was the only sign of life. All sensors were still green.

"If he's after her, he probably saw this and realized she left," Tim offered.

Bruce shook his head grimly. "He won't give up. Six men from Black Mask's organization were found in a dumpster yesterday morning. Joker is still escalating."

Those men were only found when the garbage truck picked up the load. As soon as it started compressing, blood ran out over the tailgate; Joker had also thrown several gallon bottles of blood from a local slaughterhouse into the same dumpster to create the grisly scene. His theatrical excesses were increasing, and Bruce felt the danger to Selina was still high.

Highest of all, though, was Harley, and she seemed to have disappeared. The longer she remained in hiding, the more drastic Joker's tactics became. Bruce still wanted to catch Harley himself, if he could. He would sit with her 24/7 to keep Joker from killing her if he had to, but while she was running loose, she was a target he couldn't predict or protect.

Tim gave a shudder, thinking of the garbage truck. "He hasn't been here. Let's check the back and go home."

What they found at the back door, however, ensured that they wouldn't be going home without a thorough search of the entire building.

Tim had approached first, then halted. "Is that…?"

"Yes," Bruce said, and walked past him with stony self-control.

Most of Gotham's rogues had some line they wouldn't cross. Scarecrow would fear-toxin the populace at random, but he'd never lay untoward hands on a woman. Poison Ivy would kill men or women in her way, but she'd never harm a child – and she and Harley actually rescued them, on occasion. Black Mask would do a lot of things, including torture a teenage girl who happened to wear a hero costume, but he treated his right hand adviser Ms. Li courteously.

And none of them were cruel to animals. For most, there was no point.

Batman forced himself to examine the cat nailed to Selina's door. Forepaws stretched so unnaturally wide, the shoulder muscles had to have been torn. Back paws nailed together, crossed one over the other, the tail hanging limply down beside them. His flashlight showed a crust of blood on the open mouth and around the tiny nostrils. The whole anatomy of the animal appeared distorted by its pose…

By itself, the sight was gruesome. In the context of Selina's silly cat that liked to sit on the back of Bruce's chair, licking his head and making happy 'mrrowr' noises, this was an obscenity. A coal of outrage flared to life, burning brightly deep in his chest.

Tim gagged, trying to stifle it, and Batman said aloud, "This affects us more strongly because animals are inherently innocent. Not only do they not deserve to be harmed, they cannot fathom why. A human being knows there are sadists and murderers in the world. A cat does not have that understanding."

He shone the flashlight on the paws, and felt a slight measure of relief. "This was done postmortem. No bleeding around the nails. Look at the ribcage, it's shattered. And the blood from the nose – that indicates head trauma. This cat was likely hit by a car."

"Joker would've done it to a live cat," Tim said, standing back a few feet. "Catwoman was right to bring them all to the Roost. If he'd caught one of hers…"

Of course he would've done this, and it did not surprise Batman that Joker would stoop to such senseless cruelty. He had done so before, many times. Joker would torture anyone or anything just to get a reaction. "Yes, Catwoman was right to bring them," Bruce said.

"They can all have extra treats tonight," Tim declared.

Bruce nodded grimly. "She shouldn't see this. We'll take it down, and take it to a veterinarian for a necropsy to confirm the cause of death. Say nothing to Catwoman until we get the results back." He'd have the animal cremated or buried, whatever Selina wanted done. It wasn't one of her cats … but to some degree, she considered all cats her own. And this was going to enrage her.