Two days later the sun was shining, birds were chirping, and Cass still felt miserable. Not physically. No, the effects of the chemical had left her system the day after that failed stint as Batgirl. But in all other ways, she had to admit, this sucked (a particularly interesting expression she had stolen from the television) Somehow Babs had found out about that night and, though she at least hadn't run to Batman with the incriminating evidence, she had proceeded to give her a lecture that left her ears ringing, then threatened her with bodily harm and Batman's involvement should she step out of line again. Cass had decided that meekness was the better part of valor and had sat quietly through the tirade, glad, at least, that Batman didn't know and wouldn't try to take away her Batgirl costume again.

Of course, he found out anyway. She didn't know how, and she shouldn't have been surprised, but he knew and he demonstrated this knowledge with a two-hour session with the training course set at the highest level.

Oh yes... he also took away her costume. Not for good, just for a week... to remind her, she supposed, that disobeying Batman always had consequences. At least he hadn't fired her like he did Stephanie... although to be honest, Stephanie had deserved it. Though she may have meant well, and had been a nice person...some of the time, she hadn't been a good vigilante as Spoiler and was even worse as Robin. Though, for some reason, no one would admit it. Perhaps dying made one immune from criticism.

So now Cass was stuck playing at "civilian" life for a week...five more days! Five more days of nothing to do. She could train, but even with her skills and athletic abilities such vigorous exercise could only be kept up for so long. That still left twelve hours every day with nothing to do, not including the four hours of sleep she got every morning.

There was the TV, she supposed, or the...shudder...books. She hadn't opened one since that night. Feeling spiteful and unable to take it out on anyone, she had irrationally transferred her anger to the colorful books sitting on her coffee table. Now she moved over and picked one up. It was the new one, the one Tim had brought over, and she remembered thinking the cover looked more promising than the other ones...darker. She flipped through the pages, looking at some of the pictures...ooh, a dragon! This could be interesting. And so, having nothing else to do, she settled in to struggle through the story.

Three hours later the poor book went hurling through the air to slam loudly against the refrigerator. It collapsed to the floor, pages bent and spine partially torn. Cass immediately felt a twinge of remorse...the book didn't belong to her and now she had broken it. But she had become so frustrated as the story had progressed.

It was a silly story, really. I mean, come on, who had ever heard of someone dying because they poked their finger?! Although that thought made her pause, remembering drug addicts with gleaming needles, infectious diseases caused by the bite of a tiny insect, and, hitting more closely to home, the deadly poisons that could kill a person just by breaking the skin. Remembering Joker's card she shivered, knowing she was lucky to be alive. So, she mused, clearly there was a bit of reality to be found in the story, but it wasn't enough to make her reconsider her poor impression of it.

The king had been sloppy. Such shabby work would never have been permitted in the Bat clan. Besides, how come in all the fairy tales the prince had to come rescue the princess? That had been where she had thrown the book, for the princess had slept forever waiting for the prince. Why hadn't anyone just told the girl not to touch a spinning wheel because it would kill her, and let her fend for herself?

Cass sighed, smoothing out the wrinkled pages. She supposed that was why she hadn't found a boy for herself... they all wanted dainty, weak, soft girls like the ones in the books. And Cass knew that whatever softness that may have been found in her in her youth had been ruthlessly trained out of her by Cain.


"Any luck sir?" Alfred should have known better than to interrupt the Dark Knight while he was working so intently on a case, he had, after all been there since the very birth of Batman. But it was this long experience itself that caused him to force himself into the detective's consciousness every so often. Were he not to intrude the younger man would very likely forget anything outside the case existed...including food, sleep, and all other necessities.

"No, Alfred." Well, at least he was still speaking. Too often he fell into a monosyllabic speaking pattern or failed to respond at all! Of course his tone was gruff and off-putting. That didn't stop the loyal manservant, though.

"I see, sir. Well, if I might suggest..."

"No. Alfred." The tone was more forceful this time, rejecting any help, food, or other interruption. Alfred pursed his lips in disapproval.

"Well really sir. I was just going to point out to you that I have brought you some food which, I might add, is necessary to fuel your body as you insist on putting it through such rigorous exertions every night." He huffed, irritated, and finally got some response. Batman threw him a look, almost sarcastic, as he reached for the plate held in the butler's hands.

"Thank you." He took a bite and turned back to the screen, seeming to put Alfred out of his mind. Alfred shook his head sadly. Sometimes it was simply impossible to pull his employer away from his nightly activities. Of course this particular case was important... it was currently the seventh night that the Joker had been on the loose and so far there was a perplexing deficit of bodies. Only the guard at Arkham, and a taxi driver, presumably the poor idiot who had taken Joker from Arkham into the city, had died at the lunatic clown's hands. It was mystifying, to say the least, and possibly catastrophic. Alfred knew that Batman feared that the lack of murders would culminate in one large mass-murder with the death toll reaching into the double, or possibly even triple, digits if Joker was not stopped soon.

"Very well, sir, I..."

"Wait." He had turned to return upstairs, when the voice stopped him. He looked enquiringly at the masked man, surprised that the voice had been closer to "Bruce Wayne's" than Batman's. "I'm...sorry, Alfred. This case has got me, well, frustrated, to put it mildly."

"Indeed." Alfred remained relatively silent, knowing that often these impromptu chats could lead to a breakthrough that Batman hadn't previously seen.

"There doesn't seem to have been a trace of Joker since the Gotham City Trust and Credit. He hasn't killed, hasn't been seen, in fact, I would think he had left Gotham except that it isn't his M.O. Oracle has been monitoring for reports, any surfacing of the money stolen... some of the bills taken were brand new and their serial numbers were easily traceable. Nothing. Nightwing is following up the arson in the Collwell Apartment Building but so far hasn't found anything solid either. Joker left a note there...attached to a motion-sensor bomb that I barely avoided. But it doesn't help at all." He frowned over at the singed paper lying on the table.

"It's almost as if he's trying to...to...I don't know, warn me off of the case. Look at this, 'Dream on, Batsy! This time I get to save Gotham... from herself!!" The longer he's loose the more I fear what will happen when he does make his move. I could use more manpower...I've tried to keep Robin off the case..." he trailed off, distractedly looking back at the screen and typing in a few commands, and Alfred knew he wasn't going to finish that line of thought. Yet Batman surprised him, seeming to read the questions in his mind.

"I know Tim did well against Joker before, even defeating him alone. But I'm not sure I'm ready to..." he cleared his throat, ending that line of thought quickly, as if afraid to admit that he cared about the people he worked with. Alfred knew he was once again blaming himself for the death of an ally. Spoiler had been a poor vigilante, and even worse at using common sense. Her actions had driven Gotham into a gang war that very nearly destroyed the city and the Bat-clan itself.

Yet no one deserved to die in such a fashion, and he knew that Stephanie's actions had been related, at least in part, to Batman. Not to mention his "war-game" scenarios that she had unleashed. Still... Alfred realized his mind was wandering, and brought his gaze into sharp focus, glaring at the back of the head of the man in front of him.

"And what of Miss Cassandra?" Alfred knew the girl had been "punished" for disobeying direct orders, the very problem that had supposedly driven Spoiler to take action with the war-game development, but if Batman really needed all the help...

"No. She still has another two days to go, and besides, she's not really a detective and I'm not sure the chemical in her system won't cause any permanent damage." This was news. Alfred hadn't had any idea that Batman still thought the female vigilante effected by the poison.

"In that case, sir, should she not be here...under our supervision?"

"No," he graveled, "the antidote we used lessened the effects enough that they aren't really threatening. But you know the antidote was old, a sort of "cure-all" treatment aimed at a combination of Joker's past formulas as we have no sample of the original substance. Even the blood samples I took have come up negative for any foreign substances. I planted some tracers on her, both on her costume and microscopic ones injected into her bloodstream." He typed some more, seemingly unaware of Alfred's shudder. As much as he wished for the well being of all his charges, sometimes Batman's methods left a lot to be desired.

"And these tracers would do...what, exactly?" he couldn't quite keep the dryness from his tone.

"Monitor her vitals, check for anything unusual. I didn't just take the costume to punish her, you know..." Alfred, in fact, had not known, "but because her actions that night indicated that the substance may have been more powerful than we thought. She suffered an increase in pressure within her skull, which would have caused very painful headaches. She also had a marked decrease in adrenaline, odd coming on so rapidly after a fight, and increases in gamma-amino-butyric-acid, or possibly a strong type of benzodiazepine mimicking GAMA's properties. There were also marked increases in her serotonin levels, another neurotransmitter involved in causing sleepiness, which would explain why she returned to her apartment and slept for nearly twelve hours when she usually only sleeps about four."

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that." Batman ignored the wry comment.

"So the chemicals in her brain and nervous system were still being stimulated in such a way that she was inclined to sleep more than normal, a condition that can cause her to be distracted, her movements sluggish, and her overall performance inhibited. The effect lasted too long for the chemical to have been a simple anesthetic, so I'm still concerned over what a larger dose could do to someone... his toxin seems aimed merely at inducing a coma-like sleep. But if Joker's creating a new formula, we must assume the worst possible consequences should he manage to release it. As for Cassandra's case, I didn't think those were good conditions for her to continue as Batgirl."

"I most heartily agree! But..." Batman cut him off, continuing his monologue on the properties of the Joker's formula.

"I don't know what Joker's up to but, with no smiles, no deaths, and none of his other "normal" tricks, if any of them could be considered normal, it makes no sense." He frowned, seeming to forget the conversation as he moved to examine some papers... bills, to be precise... evidence left at the bank. Alfred was frustrated that the Dark Knight seemed unconcerned with his protégé's medical conition.

"But sir! If I may ask, how do you know if the toxin has run its course, that Miss Cassandra is now safe from the effects?"

"The same sensors that told me her symptoms before. Plus the training room. When I made her train all day her reaction times were near to her normal performance. She has returned to a normal sleep schedule, plus an hour or so, but that can be attributed to the lack of stimulation she has as a civilian."

"If the agent has left her system, why, then, would you think it could cause permanent damage?"

"Because, Alfred, her pride is hurt and I want to make sure she doesn't do something stupid like try to take on the Joker herself." Raising his eyebrows in understanding, Alfred nodded and removed himself from the room as an insistent beeping called Batman out to investigate another crime.


To be continued...