"Hey, Iris."
Cat sat down slowly with a pained smile, she glanced around the hospital room in vague interest.
"We're working on getting you out of here, just sit tight."
Cat leaned over and replaced the wilted daisies with a new bunch. The gift shop had a very limited variety of flowers, but somehow Cat thought that daisies were pretty much perfect for Iris.
Yvonne hadn't visited today, she hadn't visited yesterday either. In fact, it was going on 3 days since Yvonne had set eyes on her wife.
Cat tried not to be mad at her for it, after all, Yvonne was probably just preoccupied by her experiments. The results she was obtaining were fairly promising, at least, that's what she told Cat whenever Cat asked about it. Crane was strangely happy to assist Yvonne in any way he could, he really did love dangerous experimental science.
A soft knock on the door tore Cat's attention from Iris' face, and she stood up quickly to meet the officer.
"I'm Sergeant Howell," he extended an arm and took Cat's hand in a firm handshake. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"
Sergeant Howell had soft brown hair, large brown eyes, and dark olive skin. He was considerably tall and well-built, and the way he held himself obviously meant that he was used to intimidation.
"Sure," Cat replied with a sigh.
He nodded and took one of the blue armchairs, gesturing for Cat to take the other.
"Now then," Howell drew a dark notebook from his breast pocket and clicked the end of a pen.
Cat regarded him and tried to mask her distaste, though a small scowl managed to leak through; she really didn't like cops.
"Forgive me, Sergeant." Cat met his gaze steadily. "But a simple car-crash seems a little below your pay grade."
Howell narrowed his eyes and leaned forwards slightly in his chair, Cat inwardly groaned at this blatant display of intimidation. She wasn't sure if it was a 'man' thing or a 'police thing', but she really didn't have the energy for it.
"There was a fatality." Howell was still staring at Cat like she was a murderer. I mean, she was, but assuming it was just rude.
"The man in the other vehicle died upon impact. You're lucky that there were 27 eye witnesses who swore that your car was merely a bystander, a victim of an unprovoked attack."
His frown and bitter tone, however, completely contradicted everything he said.
"Right," Cat nodded with an exasperated expression. "I mean, one of my friends might never wake up, the other is traumatized, I had a mild concussion. But hey, I feel pretty fucking lucky."
A muscle in his jaw twinged, like Howell was maintaining some level of restraint.
"Anyway," He struggled to ignore Cat's mocking tone. "We ID'd the attacker and found some heavy criminal records, Noah Clarst, he was involved in a violent criminal circle. Tell me, is there any reason a man named 'Jack Napier' would want to hurt you?"
Cat's scowl fell like her stomach. That was a name she never expected to hear again in such circumstances.
"No," She managed to keep her retort light, despite the cocktail of fear and anger that was churning in her stomach.
"I can't imagine why someone like that would target me."
Her words were truths. Cat knew that Napier was still at large in the criminal community, but he was mostly involved in bank thefts and mobster rallies, nothing that would provoke an attack.
Howell was staring at her again, he had knitted his hands together tightly in his lap, his jaw was clenched tightly.
"Tell me one other thing." He carefully articulated each word with as much toxicity as possible. "Tell me, have you heard about that tragedy in Arkham Asylum?"
Cat couldn't reply, and Howell took her silence as a promising sign. When he continued, a small smug smile was polluting his face.
"You see," He leaned back on the chair and glared down his nose at her. "One of the inmates committed suicide a few weeks ago, terrible affair, it really opened the public's eye to the Asylum's mistreatment."
Howell was full beaming now, and Cat was stock-still in response.
"There wasn't much of an investigation, after all, who cares about one little psychopath?"
He cocked his head ever so slightly, he was clearly enjoying the amount of power he seemed to hold over the situation.
"But, if, God forbid. If this prisoner happened to escape and cause a number of convenient attacks on billionaires and Major Crimes Unit. I daresay they wouldn't hesitate to issue the death penalty." Howell finished with a smirk, a dare for Cat to retort in some way, to fight for herself.
She stood up, smiled, crossed her arms over her chest. This casual response faltered his smile for a moment.
"Let me see if I have this right," Cat pointed out slowly, like a teacher scolding a student. "You are insinuating that I am a serial killer who has escaped from multiple prison's, infamous for killing cops, girlfriend of the Joker, torturer, thief, presumed dead. You are accusing me of being this person, and your brilliant plan is to threaten me?"
Cat was harbouring her own smile, it was elevating to see that Howell seemed to sink nervously in his chair.
"This person wouldn't hesitate to kill you and everyone you love in a heartbeat. And if an investigation was commenced, this person would sleep like a fucking kitten after killing the family and friends of every thoughtless cop who took part."
Howell slowly and tensely got to his feet. His gaze never left Cat's as he tested her, wary of her every move.
"Uh."
Cat took a steady step forward, as expected, Howard mirrored her action in reverse.
"So, let me ask you." Cat whispered in a low voice.
"Do you think I am this person?"
He cleared his throat loudly, shook his head, and took a few unsteady paces towards the door.
"No…no I think there was some mistake. She….she did die and I… found evidence to prove it."
Cat nodded and let her face fall, taking a more serious and reasonable approach.
"Leave, now, forget you saw me, you and your family will be fine. I swear. It's okay to be selfish sometimes, pick your battles Sergeant."
He seemed to draw reassurance from her words and even managed a slight smile, albeit a confused and anxious smile.
Howell then ducked out of the room faster than Cat could return to her seat.
Cat was back at the apartment that evening, and when she entered the small hallway she barely even recognised the place. Strange glass and metal lab equipment lined every wall and several strange whirring noises echoed from machinery that Cat couldn't name.
"Huh," Cat ducked around a large, circular device that seemed to have a spinning interior. "Going well in here?"
Yvonne and Crane were both leaning over the kitchen bench, a microscope and petri dish before them.
"Hm." Yvonne grunted in response and gazed into the eyepiece of the microscope again. She sighed through her nose, drew a pen from her shirt pocket, and jotted a series of notes down in her small notebook.
"Results are…promising." Crane replied over his shoulder, like Yvonne, he too was wearing a white lab coat and gloves. "Initial tests show significant increase in cell function. In response to the toxin, the cells have evolved a defence mechanism. There are some strange developments, though."
Cat walked over to them and tried to comprehend the dark green substance that was pooling in the glass petri dish.
"Like what?"
Crane picked up the petri dish and mimed to the liquid with his index finger. "These blood cells have…well. It's hard to scientifically identify it. They seem to have developed a cell wall, like a plant sample."
Cat stared at him and blinked once, twice, three times before Crane sighed and expanded on his explanation.
"The cell wall provides a protection, of sorts, a filter. But most eukaryotes -people- we can't physically have them because they'd make our cells far too rigid. These cells, however, have developed flexible protective layers. And, theoretically, this would make these cells stronger, more efficient; like supercells."
Cat nodded slowly and looked down at the green liquid.
"It's green." She said stupidly.
"Another interesting observation." Crane pointed at her mockingly. "The cells also have chloroplasts-"
He faded off and took in Cat's blank expression, he winced, as if her stupidity physically pained him.
"-Meaning that these cells might have the ability to photosynthesize. Like, converting light energy into glucose. This whole experiment has opened up the possibility for a super-human, of sorts, fast healing, able to obtain energy from the sun. I can't even begin to imagine what we could discover with more tests."
At this, Yvonne looked over at them with her lips set in a firm line.
"No," She said stiffly. "We need to move on to trials, now, Iris doesn't have long left."
Crane regarded her sympathetically and rolled off his gloves.
"I'm sorry, Yvonne." He spoke gently. "But it's far too dangerous to commence human trials without further research. We have barely scratched the surface of this toxin."
Yvonne turned back to the table with tears in her eyes. She remained silent, however, and it seemed that, for now at least, she accepted the situation as it was.
Cat watched the two of them work in silence for the next few moments. Every now and again one of them would jot down a note or equation with a triumphant hum.
Yvonne barely lifted her gaze from the work before her, and Cat noticed how her pale complexion and dark rimmed eyes hadn't improved since the crash. She was clearly tired and hurting, Cat didn't enjoy watching Yvonne go through this.
After about 10 minutes, Yvonne stood up suddenly and mentioned something about 'Indian food', before she had grabbed her purse and left.
"So-"
Cat glanced over at Crane; he had his eyeglasses between his forefingers and was massaging the bridge of his nose.
"-I need to thank you, for helping Yvonne like this. Even if it doesn't work out, fighting for someone is an excellent form of therapy."
Crane waved a hand in nonchalance, but Cat could tell that he was utterly drained.
"You think I'm a bad person, don't you?"
The question was jarring, and Cat took a moment to process what Crane had said so abruptly.
"I…I keep a very strict image of myself," Crane returned his glasses over his eyes. "I'm sure you know all about the power of fear and intimidation."
Cat shrugged slightly, she did know how much power could be granted when you had a reputation.
"It doesn't mean I don't…" Crane struggled with the words, and he ran a hand through his dark hair in exasperation. "These people, Yvonne, Iris, Douglass, Cherry, they're…a good team."
Cat smiled warmly and nodded in understanding, it was refreshing to see Crane act in a way that wasn't cold and calculated.
"But this isn't the image I want-" Crane seemed almost…disappointed, begrudging at the very least.
"-After Iris is back on her feet, I'm going to respectfully request resignation."
Cat tried not to find sense in his words, but she felt sorry for Crane above everything.
"I get it." Cat replied softly. "I never imagined we would all..well…excuse the 'Hallmark card', but I never imagined we would become such a family.
Crane laughed humorously, before sighing and fixing Cat with desperate glance.
"You'll look after them."
It wasn't a question, but Cat found herself nodding in response anyway.
"I had plans," Crane was laughing again. "Blackmail, intimidation, control, fear. But actually liking you, that was…unexpected. You'll keep this between us, won't you?"
Cat nodded surely, before Crane returned to his notebook with a frown and a low sigh.
"Whatever might happen, however you might fall out with them," Crane glanced up again with an odd desperation in his eyes, like he knew something she didn't. "Promise me that you'll look past it. You've got a good team there."
"Uh, sure. It kinda seems like you're trying to warn me, though, do you…do you know something?"
He didn't respond, and Cat again had the sneaking suspicion that her team was keeping something from her. First, Yvonne had seemed desperate to tell her something back at the gas station, and before that, she'd walked in on her and Douglass having a very heated debate about…something. Whatever it was, it sent an odd trickle of dread down Cat's spine.
"I'm gonna go back to the hospital." Cat decided after a moment. "I think I'll sleep over again, I hate leaving Iris alone."
She was hallway out the door when she heard Crane's voice float from the kitchen; soft, and barely audible.
"Watch your back."
The air was painfully cold around her, and the night seemed to enter and exit her lungs in burning waves. She hugged her tan coat more tightly around her midsection, she could see her breath escaping her nose like little puffs of cloud.
The street was fairly deserted, considering it was a Saturday evening, Gotham still seemed to have an unspoken curfew thanks to the rising number of attacks.
Cat paused under a single, flickering street lamp. It was the only source of light up or down the dark street. She couldn't shake the way her hair stood on end or the uncomfortable churning in her stomach; it was the feeling of being watched.
She turned on her heels to observe her surroundings; The night remained dark around her, dark, cold, and empty. Cat laughed at her own paranoia and tried to steady her thumping heart with a few reassuring thoughts, she was probably ten times more dangerous than anything that could crawl out from the shadows.
Cat was about to take another steady step forward, before a sound ran through the night and hit her like a painful slap to the face. It was a sound made so softly and casually, that to anyone else it would seem not to have deserved the amount of terror that Cat felt.
She felt the blood drain from her face, felt her limbs turn into useless bags of water. Suddenly, everything around her was drenched in a sickening shade of blood.
Behind her right shoulder, barely 5 feet from her ears, a soft voice had muttered a single, horrible word.
"Sweetheart."