There were signs of demolition equipment everywhere. Sledgehammers, wheelbarrows, blowtorches, it was all there to tear apart the building. In other places, materials for the rebuild were stashed out of the way so that they weren't damaged.

This building was in the process of being constructed into the next Thuggee Cult Temple. That meant this sect was new, or the planned settlement from the other groups. On the one hand, Batgirl didn't like that they clearly had plans for expansion; on the other, they were caught early in their development and would be ceremoniously stopped.

If only it was just her…

As Batgirl glided through the hallway, a ghost on silent footsteps, she heard every step her tagalongs made. Bluebird and Spoiler had forced their way onto this mission and every time she heard their feet touch the floor, it annoyed her. It was a wonder the Thuggee hadn't come looking for them with all of this noise.

Reaching a portion of a wall that had clearly been broken through, Batgirl came to a stop, the other two crimefighters stopping right behind her. Peering around the jagged edges of the hole, she saw no Thugs on the other side, then proceeded to continue down the corridor. Eventually she reached an intersecting hallway, one that made a T-intersection. Again, she stopped to make certain there were no threats before pressing forward, taking a right turn.

"So, where are these guys?" Bluebird asked in a hushed whisper. "I haven't seen any of them since the roof."

There had been a guard patrol on the roof, one the three of them had taken care of rather efficiently. It had given the dark-clad girl some hope that perhaps these two knew what they were doing. Their stealth skills clearly needed work, as she found out.

"They are close," she responded, keeping her voice low as well.

"How do you know?"

"All of their temples are the same. In fact, there should be…"

There was a creaking sound, cutting off their conversation. Batgirl held up her hand, making a fist with it, the sign for them all to stop. She could see the entrance to another corridor up ahead, a shadow stretching out along the floor. Someone was there.

Quickly, she darted down the hallway to post up at the corner. Peering around it, she spotted a guard, his back to her. Raising a hand up, she kept her fingers pressed to each other, the thumb curled into the palm. Easing her way behind the large man, she then delivered a sharp chop to the back of his neck, knocking him out as he collapsed to a heap on the floor.

Oh yes, they were definitely close now.

Bluebird and Spoiler trampled their way to her then, a pack of elephants. "I think we're almost there," the lavender-dressed vigilante remarked.

"Shhh," Batgirl shushed before moving down this corridor.

"Hey, why did she shush me and talk to you?" Spoiler complained.

"Because I can talk at a whisper and you talk above the level of a gameshow host announcement."

"I do not!"

Batgirl whipped her head around, glaring at the two girls. They saw this immediately and went quiet. Keeping her look on them for a moment or two, she then turned away and continued on. This was not a place to air grievances.

Shortly after, they arrived at a set of wooden doors, ones that were polished and recently put into place as they stuck out from their surroundings. A set of clean doors in a dirty hallway? Yeah, that didn't stick out at all.

"They should be on the other side of these doors," Batgirl warned the other two. "Once in, we go at them hard. Take them all down as fast as possible."

Bluebird hefted up her taser rifle. "Ready."

Spoiler had her birdarangs in hand. "Ready."

Batgirl pressed her hands to the doors. Ready.

She then shoved them wide open. Unlike the previous temple, the dojo was clearly in the process of being built. Sections of walls had been knocked down, but the support beams that had been initially built into them remained, creating sections within the newly enlarged room. The mess had been cleaned up, but the construction to reform this place into the Thuggees' ideal had yet to be made.

There were perhaps a dozen of the Thugs present, all of whom stopped what they were doing. They had various tools in their hands, from hammers to saws to screwdrivers. They dressed themselves like laborers, so they rather fit the scene they were in.

Batgirl knew them the moment she laid eyes on them. She could read their body language and picked out that they were men who knew how to control their bodies, use them to their most efficient means, and had blood dripping from their hands in a metaphorical sense.

Bluebird's taser rifle went off, striking the nearest Thug with a bolt of electricity. The man screamed as he convulsed from the voltage, dropping to the floor a moment after Bluebird released him.

By then, Batgirl was soaring through the air, heading right for a place right between two thugs. Twisting her body to one side, she then kicked her legs out, one in either direction. Each foot collided with the face of a Thug, knocking them off balanced.

That's when Spoiler struck, sending her birdarangs at the stumbling Thugs. Her aim was true, hitting each man in the temple, knocking them out before they even hit the ground

That was three down, only a handful left.

By then, the rest of the Thuggee Cult were on the move, charging at the girls. Bluebird was firing her rifle again, tasing another Thug as Spoiler went on the offensive, going low as she performed a leg sweep of a charging Thug. Batgirl took her eyes off of her tagalongs as she backpedaled from a Thug slashing at her with a saw. The length of it gave him better reach, but the craftsmanship caused it to wobble as it was swung back and forth.

Knowing she was coming close to a wall, Batgirl waited for the next slash with the saw before she countered. Grabbing the man's wrist, she forced it one side as she moved to the outer side of the arm. Shoving a hand into his armpit, she pulled his arm down while forcing his shoulder up, using it as leverage to lift the man into the air and force him to fly face first into the wall. There was a loud SMACK! as he hit the wall, falling to the floor in a heap a moment later.

Spinning around, she was just in time to see another Thug lunging at her with a hammer. Darting forward, she shot an arm up to block the attacking arm, stopping the hammer from hitting her. With her other hand, she shot it straight up, her fingers curled back and palm prominent. Her palm strike slammed into the man's chin, snapping his head backwards.

She then shot a leg up, ramming her knee into the man's gut, which forced the air out of his legs, leaving him breathless as he bent over from the blow. Grabbing either side of his head with both of her hands, she forced his head back before shoving it down, bashing his face into her knee. She could feel his nose break as blood squirted out of his nostrils. The lack of a scream told her the blow had him unconscious and he fell to the ground the moment she released him.

Turning back around, Batgirl spotted the former Batclan members. Impressively, they had taken down a few more of the Thugs—more than she thought they would have. There were three left, each one eyeing Bluebird's taser rifle. They were constantly circling around them, speeding up the moment Bluebird pointed her weapon at them so that she couldn't get a good shot. Spoiler was holding her ground, just waiting for one of them to attack her.

Which left them oblivious to the dark-clad girl. Pulling out a few batarangs, she sent them flying at the Thugs. She hit one on the back of his head and another on the side of his temple. The last one saw the shuriken coming though, and immediately dodged it.

This left him wide open for Bluebird to finish him off, blasting him with electricity that caused him to scream. Batgirl watched long enough until the Bluebird stopped her weapon and the Thug collapsed to the floor.

"Is it just me, or was this easier?" Spoiler asked, looking to the other two girls.

"It's not just you," Bluebird added with a frown. Looking to Batgirl, she said, "You're the expert on these guys. What do you think?"

Batgirl had to admit they had a point. This had gone down rather easily. From the guards they had encountered to the fight here, the resistance was...pitiful.

For a moment, she wondered if there was another group of Thuggees nearby; that they had been lured into a trap. However, they had searched the upper levels as they worked their way down, and much of the building was under construction. There wasn't any safe place to hide here.

"I'm not sure," she admitted after awhile. "We saw the rest of the building and there was no place for an ambush to hide."

"That's true, I guess," Spoiler agreed. "Then maybe this was a brand new cell? They're clearly remodeling, so maybe we just stopped them early?"

That was possible. She would review the situation with Batman if only to confirm her suspicions. She already knew he would demand that she perform a sweep of the building much like a crime scene, so she would do that before leaving. If one of the Thugs woke up, then she could question them.

"Search the area," she then told the others. "There might be something here that tells us if this is a new sect or not. Be thorough and let me know if one of them wakes up."

"Can do," Bluebird replied, hoisting up her rifle so that she could lean the barrel against her shoulder. "I think we made a good team if we were able to take this trash out so quickly."

There was that team thing again. While she couldn't argue with the results, it seemed these Batclan girls were determined to team up with her. She wasn't sure why. And it wasn't like it was the worst experience either.

Regardless, she had a job to do. She was going to get it done before rethinking her stance on these two weekend warriors.


The doorman gulped. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face as his eyes darted to the doors behind him and back to the towering Dark Knight in front of him.

"Let me get the door for you," he said as he reached for the door handle and gave it a turn.

A wise decision.

A series of fallen guards were lying crumpled on the floor, indicating what cooperation—or lack thereof—would entail. Usually Batman snuck into the man's office, but going through the front door was sending a message that he wanted the short crime lord to know that he was not happy.

The door to the Penguin's office opened and Batman strode in, Huntress and Black Canary behind him. Sitting behind his desk was Oswald Cobblepot, a phone jammed to the side of his face, but his eyes were looking right at him. "I'm gonna 'ave ta call ya back," he said before he set the phone down on the stand. There was a sour look on his face, clearly stating that he was not happy to see the vigilante. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded.

Batman came to stand right in front of the Penguin's desk. "You sold a customized flamethrower and a chemical agent to Hugo Strange," he stated.

"I don't 'ave the slightest idea what yer talkin' 'bout," the short man spat back.

Slamming a hand down on the desk, he used it to brace himself as he shot his other hand to grab the Penguin by his collar. He then hauled the man over his desk and held him in front of his face. By then, he had both hands holding the squatty man up, his feet barely scraping against the desk below him. "Tonight isn't a good night to lie to me," he growled.

"I ain't lyin', ya miserable pain in my ass!" the Penguin shouted. "Do you 'ave any idea how much 'ardware I move? O' course ya do! You keep tabs on every lil' thin' I do! And you should know that the amount o' business I do would make it humanly impossible to keep track o' e'erythin' that passes by!"

That was a good point and if it were anyone else, Batman would have believed them. But he knew Cobblepot kept an eye on every little detail of his operation. He had to since he didn't trust a single person in his operation. He always had another assistant with him every few months, the previous one disappearing from Gotham usually.

The reason for their disappearance did not include a severance package either.

"I also know that you keep tabs on every single piece of business you do. A custom flamethrower would have needed your approval just to even purchase. You don't have a customized flamethrower for every possible need just lying around," Batman pressed. "So you put the order in, it was delivered, and you handed it to Ralph McMurrey."

The Penguin glared at him before he slowly nodded. "Alright, so I do recall that bloke requesting a flamethrower. I didn't know it was for the crazy ass shrink."

"So you just put an order in for a flamethrower without questioning who was buying?" Batman asked. "That doesn't sound like you at all."

"I get requests for all kinds o' things. Knives, guns, grenade launchers, you name it, there's been an order for a customized one."

"And being a businessman like yourself, you know who likes them custom made."

The Penguin's eyes narrowed. "Damn you."

He hit that nail on the head. "If I were you, I would steer clear of any future dealings with Strange. If I find out you're supplying him, I will be back and I will tear down this house of cards you call a criminal empire. Remember, you're only active because I allow it."

"You don't allow shit!" Copplepot roared! "If you 'ad anythin' on me ta brin' me down, you'd already woulda used it!"

"And leave me without an informant to tell me who's buying what in the city?" Batman questioned him rhetorically. "It's a lot easier for me to have you gunrunning than having twenty gunrunners." He could see the rage on the short man's face as he was told he was a snitch. Such a reputation was not something a crime boss wanted. "Consider yourself warned."

Batman dropped the Penguin then, the squatty man falling over backwards onto his back as he couldn't keep his feet beneath him from the abrupt drop. The vigilante spun around and stormed out of the room, the two Birds of Prey behind him. "What did ya think?" he heard Huntress ask her blonde comrade.

"Not what I was expecting, but it was interesting to watch," Black Canary replied. "Think he's up for teaching?"


Damn that man! Damn him to the coldest reaches of Hell!

Oswald shoved himself up on his desk before climbing off of it, plopping himself roughly in his chair. That rodent-loving asshole had crossed the line this time. No way could he let this go without retribution!

It had never been said out loud, but even the Penguin knew that he was being used as an informant by the Bat. There was no other way to dress it up other than a cost of doing business. He didn't have the same leverage on the Bat as he did Gordon, however long that would last. Whatever new police commissioner was coming, he needed to get his hooks in them quick to avoid any drop off.

Oswald sighed. How the hell was he going to get at the Bat? That Strange doc wasn't an option, not without having to go through some newer, less trustworthy channels. If Strange came back wanting guns, that would be easy to do, but anything more identifiable than that and he was going to have a problem.

Speaking of problems…

Hitting a button on the intercom on his desk, he said, "Bring McMurrey to me. I don't care if he's alive or dead. Actually, dead is preferable. We 'ave some cleanin' up to do, boys."

"Roger that, Mr. Cobblepot," came the response.

There, that would help some. A message needed to be sent to his sellers that he was not to be used as a scapegoat. McMurrey had messed up for the last time.

"Now that is what I call therapy."

Oswald stiffened in his chair before jerking his head to one side. There was a door there, an emergency exit that blended in with the wall, and it was wide open. Standing in the doorway was the ever loony Joker, dark trench coat and wide brimmed hat on.

"What the hell are you doin' 'ere?" he growled lowly. "How long 'ave ya been 'ere?"

"Oh, right about the time Batsy walked in as if he owned the place," the Joker told him, sauntering into the office. "And I always did wonder why you were still operating given your history, eh heh! It makes sense though."

Oh great, now the clown knew he was a stoolie. Damn that Bat to hell!

"As to why I'm here, well, I'm sure you can guess, since I am a paying customer." The Joker plopped himself into a chair in front of the Penguin's desk, lifting up his feet to rest them on the edge of the desk, one foot crossed over the other. "Of course, I'll be expecting a discount," he sang.

Of course he would. Whatever it took to keep the clown's mouth shut. "You want your usual?" he asked warily.

The Joker stuck his hand into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Actually, I have quite the shopping list. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it onto the desk, where it slid over it until the paper stopped in front of Oswald. Eyeing it, he picked it up and unfolded it.

And unfolded it and unfolded it.

A foot long piece of paper soon emerged, looking much like a list made for Santa Claus than a demented Arkham inmate. The Penguin read some of the items, only stopping when he saw the new requests. These were definitely not the Joker's usual M.O. In fact, he saw a lot that went with…

"Is this what I think it is?" he questioned, looking to the clown.

"I always said you were a shrewd old bird," the Joker congratulated him. "And if I were you, I'd burn that list when you're done placing the order. Can't have Batsy thinking you're selling to everyone now."


"Welcome to your first day at the 39th Precinct. I'm Sgt. Procter and I'll be showing you the lay of the land. Keep up, don't get lost, and we'll get this all done before lunch."

They were a mass of people, a forest of legs. Thankfully, Barbara had a front row seat to Sgt. Proctor and his orientation speech.

She had gotten the job. After navigating the extensive GCPD interview process, she had received an offer from the forensics department. That had been a great day, one that saw her father crack the biggest smile she had seen since before Sarah had died.

Now she was here, her first day, and she had a cadet named Chad pushing her wheelchair around.

The group wasn't just her and fellow forensic hires. It had cops, it had detectives, it even had the EVS team. They had been made to meet in a large conference room, one Barbara knew was the secondary room when the main conference room was occupied. Usually that one was occupied because of some city-wide crisis and they usually had it reserved year-round for that reason.

Though she was the Commissioner's daughter, she didn't know everyone at the main precinct. Proctor was someone she had never seen before, but it was clear he ran the orientation sessions.

And he knew her. The moment Sgt. Proctor spotted her, he had ordered one of the newly-graduated cadets to push her around to make certain she didn't fall behind. Though Barbara was more than capable of moving herself around, thank you very much, she also knew when to enjoy the free ride.

"Cadets ," Proctor called out, "will be shown to the armory, where you will be given your issued equipment. Forensics, you will be going to the lab to be orientated to your little hole in the wall. Don't break anything, it's expensive."

There were chuckles throughout the crowd. "Detectives, you'll be taken to your departments and assigned desks. Partner assignments are run through your department's lieutenants. EVS will be shown to your department. Now, if there are any questions, wait until the end of the show."

Again, some chuckles. Sgt Proctor raised a hand, two of his fingers extended up. He waved them, not even bothering to look away from his paper upon the stand in front of him. A few men appeared, two in police uniform, one in a lab coat, and another in a janitor's jumpsuit. "I'm certain you can identify which person you should follow, but for those who need to be told, cadets and detectives with the uniforms, forensics with the lab coat, and EVS with Greg. We gather back here for lunch and to go over the more tedious things, like insurance, pensions, and so on. Now, go have fun with your educators."

Barbara found herself wheeled around and moved towards the lab coat, as Proctor described him. The whole while, Chad kept glancing to where the rest of the cadets were gathered, slowly filing out of the conference room.

Reaching a hand up, Barbara grabbed Chad's hand. "Hey, I can take it from here. Go with your group."

"Are you sure?" Chad asked. He had been trained well, drilled hard about discipline and following orders.

"Go, I can manage. One of my fellow techs can do all the pushing," she reassured him.

Chad gave her a sharp nod and then hurried off. With a sigh, Barbara grabbed her own wheels and began rolling herself with her much smaller group. "So you're my new lab geeks," the lab coat greeted them. "I'm Hardy, your supervisor. If you'll follow me, I'll show you where you'll be toiling for endless hours with some of the best equipment and resources in the state."

Hardy led them from the conference room and down a hallway. The whole while, Barbara pumped her arms with her wheels, keeping up with the back of the group. Thankfully, they weren't power walking, or this would be annoying.

Soon, they reached the lab, Hardy holding the door for all of them. Rolling in, Barbara couldn't help but gape at the room. Unlike the bullpen in the MCU, this place looked like it belonged at a research facility than the main GCPD precinct. Bright fluorescent lights revealed a countertop that stretched all around the room. There were microscopes, spectrometers, and things Barbara could hardly put a name to. Lab techs were already hard at work, running the various tests they could. Computers were on, one of which appeared to be running a ballistics analysis.

"Team, this is our fresh meat!" Hardy announced. "Make them feel at home and don't run them off. We're already down from Gomez and Turner's retirement and we won't get a second chance at a group like this again."

"You make it sound as if we eat our young," a female technician called out.

"Annie, I know you do."

"That's because we have high standards. Not my fault the last few recruits couldn't keep up."

"Bah." Hardy turned to the group of fresh recruits. "Allow me to show you the grand tour. We'll get your accesses shortly and start your training on the gathering and testing of evidence we collect at crime scenes. We're going to be hitting the ground running, so you better keep up."

That sounded like a challenge to Barbara, but she was a Gordon. They always rose to challenges.


Cassandra wasn't sure what she was doing here.

She knew the why. She had asked for this—maybe not this specifically, but she had asked for it. Her father had arranged for her to start a job today. It wasn't a high position, one that put her in charge. In fact, as she understood it, it was going to be rather simple.

"You the new intern?" a gruff-looking man with a fuzzy mustache asked her. Just looking at him, she was certain he had been in this place for far too long, but he had never thrown in the towel. "Kane, right?"

Cassandra almost said no before she stopped herself. Too many questions would have been raised if she had walked in with Wayne attached to her name. An alias had been used, though the name Cain didn't sit well with her. Apparently there were other ways to spell that name, one that included an E at the end and one that began with a K. She picked the K cause that at least looked different enough.

For some reason though, her father had given her a rather amused look at that.

"Any relation to the General?" the gruff man asked.

General...Kane? There was a man with that name? Cassandra held back her annoyance. Of course, her father knew this and probably even knew everything about the man. "No relation," she answered.

"Oh. Well, welcome to the mailroom of Wayne Enterprises. Just stand there until Terry gets off his break and he'll show you the ropes."

Cassandra nodded and waited. This only caused the man to shoot glances at her as he worked on some sort of paperwork. "What are you doing?" he finally snapped.

"I am waiting like you told me," she replied.

For whatever reason, this only soured the man's mood. "Not in front of the desk. You'll start a line. Just...stand over there, alright?"

Cassandra nodded and turned to walk off a few steps. There was a frown on her face. Had she made a mistake wanting this job? Already she had met this rude man and he was expecting her to read his mind.

A door opened nearby then, and several people came pouring out of it. The gruff man looked to the group before he shouted, "Terry! Get your ass over here!"

A rather young-looking guy pulled himself out of the group, sauntering towards the desk. He was pretty tall and lanky, a head full of dirty blonde hair. He didn't look the least bit intimidated. "What's up, Boss?"

Gruff man gestured to Cassandra. "New Intern. Show her the ropes and keep her out of my hair. I get the feeling she's going to be a handful."

Cassandra bristled at the remark, though Terry didn't seem to look all that concerned. He then looked at her before raising an eyebrow. "She's the intern?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah, that's her. Kane, no relation to the rich family one apparently."

"A little overdressed, isn't she?"

Cassandra glanced down at the white blouse and long skirt she was wearing. She even wore those pantyhose things she had seen Talia wear on occasion. Was there something wrong with...this…?

As she raised her eyes back up, it was then she realized the people that had entered the room, along with Terry and Gruff Man, were dressed considerably more casual. There were some khaki pants and even blue jeans, but not a single shirt was business attire. Had she overdressed for this?

"Just show her the damn ropes and she can change for tomorrow—assuming she stays that long," Gruff Man barked.

"Fine." Terry then waved to the dark-haired girl. "Kane, right? Follow me."

Doing as told, Cassandra approached the man and he led her to the same doorway that the others had used earlier. "This is the breakroom," he told her, pushing open the door. Much to her surprise, the room was rather...small. In fact, there were quite a few lockers that seemed to take up quite a bit of space, along with a couple tables, a refrigerator, and a counter with various stuff tossed onto it. She spotted a microwave and some unopened mini cereal boxes lying on it.

Terry led them in. "Punch clock is on the wall," he gestured to said punch clock, which looked like a giant box on the wall. There was a little window at the top with a small groove in it. A digital clock was telling the time on it. Next to the punch clock was a column with several cards jammed into it. Terry picked up one of the cards and held it out to her. She could see several dates and times printed on it. "Just put the card in the opening, press the button, and you're stamped in," he continued. He even showed her what he meant by sliding the card into the groove on the clock, pointed out a button, and then pulled it out, placing it back in its holding spot. "It's half an hour for lunch, and you get two fifteen minutes breaks whenever."

And then he led them out of the breakroom. The Gruff Man didn't even budge as they passed by and went to yet another door. "This is where Gus, our boss, hangs out. He's supposed to have an office somewhere around here, but he likes hanging out in here. Don't give him any trouble and he won't give you anything."

Gus grunted his agreement right before they passed through the new door. The moment it closed behind them, Terry leaned down towards her. "Don't take anything he says seriously. He just wants everything done by the end of shift. Do that and he pretty much leaves you alone."

Well, that was good. Cassandra didn't really care for this Gus person, so if he was going to be hands off, then she would make certain he stayed that way.

Her attention was then drawn to the room they had entered. In comparison to the last two rooms, this one was bigger and a lot more busy. There were carts forming two rows, one on either side of them. There were stacks of letters and boxes and...well, mail stuff. The people that had been in the breakroom with Terry were already digging into the carts, sorting the mail into smaller, metal carts.

"Now this is where we do most of our work," Terry explained. "You'll notice each cart goes to a different floor and department in the building." He gestured to a laminated placard on one of the carts that said Floor 16, Marketing on it. "We take the mail, figure out which cart it belongs on, put it there, and repeat. Once the cart is full, or we run out of mail, we take them to their respective floors and deliver it. Then we come back here and start over. Any questions?"

Cassandra looked to the carts. "Are there assigned carts?" she asked.

"Not really, but people tend to do the same ones over and over," Terry shrugged. "I guess it is a first come, first served deal."

She nodded. Already she was forming a plan to get the cart for the C.E.O. office. It was at least one way to see her father during the day.

"Oh, and if you're having any ideas of seeing Mr. Wayne, you can forget about it," Terry's voice suddenly cut through her thoughts, startling her. Terry was giving her a knowing look. "You aren't the first mail girl to try and use this as a way to talk him up and I'm certain you won't be the last."

"I'm not—" she tried to protest.

Terry just held a hand up. "The lady doth protest too much." Okay, she had barely begun to protest, so his use of that quote was early and unnecessary. "I get it, the guy is rich beyond words and good looking too. But he ain't getting any younger. Besides, I hear he has a kid practically your age."

Yeah, practically her age. Pretty exact too, if she didn't say so herself.

"One, gross," she told him. "I have no interest in him. Two...I don't have a number two."

A smug look appeared on his face. "Should have thought that one through a little more."

That look never left his face before he began leading her towards the other side of the room. "There's a computer down here that has a directory of every employee and department in the building. You'll be using this a lot until you get the hang of things, so you'll be working on the stacks down here. Feel free to ask anyone anything except for Fran. She doesn't like newbies all that much."

Avoid Gus and Fran—got it. "So when do I start?" she asked.

"Right now. I'll work the pile next to you for now. And future reference, you might want to wear more comfortable clothes going forward. You're going to be on your feet and bending over quite a bit, so anything else will make your back and feet sore by the end of the day."

"Try lunch time," someone called out to them.

She...wasn't sure what that meant, but Terry snickered at it. Some kind of inside joke perhaps?

Well, all of this would have been nice to know before she showed up. Here she had spent so much time getting ready as she had read it was a good idea to make a good first impression. Her father hadn't stopped her either. Surely he knew what was going on down here and could have told her this much.

Not the first day she had expected, but she was just going to have to make up for it. Later that night, she was going to have to give someone a piece of her mind and an earful of it at that.