(Happy Belated Valentine's Day everyone! Let us celebrate this jouyous occasion of discounted chocolate, flowers and teddy bears with a new chapter! As always, please review and I hope you enjoy the latest update!)

Chapter 11

God I felt like I was going to throw up. My limbs felt heavy as my groggy eyes pried themselves open. I was lying on a cold table; an especially hard one at that. That's what she said. I rolled my eyes at my own inane joke. Now, where was I? Let's observe our surroundings, shall we Sarina? Cold. We've established that. It was dark as well. Almost as if it were a cave. Drip. Drip. Drip. Was that water? Wait, that's right. I was in the river a few minutes ago. Or was it hours? I pulled myself up, drapped over me was a thick blanket. Wait, these weren't my PJ's. I noticed I was wearing a pair of sweatpants about three sizes too big for me and an equally large sweatshirt. Oh god, what evil villain was I up against this time? The evil oversized sweatshirt man? God, I can't wait for my life to be normal again.

"I hope you slept well, Miss Gibson." I jumped at the sound of the charming british accent. It wasn't casual, everyday, slangish (Cockney is it?) sounding like The Penguins. No, it was elegant and smooth like a fine wine. Perhaps the same accent the queen speaks with? I turned and noticed the rather well dressed old man carrying a tray of hot cocoa.

"Stay back! You're not getting any money!" I practically leaped off of the table. I landed with a stumble on the cold ground, now noticing the ridiculously giant socks on my feet. "I have fought thugs...and enigmas...and a mob boss...a rich pervert...a mud man and a crazy clown! I have gone through hell and back and I sure as hell won't go down to an old man with a fancy accent!" I was in full panic mode as I prepared to defend myself against yet another psycho tonight.

"That won't be necessary." A dark voice behind me replied. I jumped. Why was everyone suprising me today? I immediately threw my first punch at the assumed assailant. When I turned and saw who the dark figure was, I realized why he caught my oncoming fist.

"B-man?" I inquired as a smile spread on my face. "Oh thank god it's you and not a deranged killer!" I hugged him, instantly glad that someone was on my side. He did not hug back. Batman does not hug back. I let go as I adjusted my drooping sweatpants.

"You suffered a minor case of hypothermia." Batman said, very matter o'factly; getting right to business.

"Oh. I did?" I questioned.

"Yes."

"Oh." Then there was an awkward pause as I looked up at Bats. "Well, thank you." He didn't respond as he turned towards the Bat Computer. Yeesh. Cold shoulder much? I looked down awkwardly at the white socks. Mens size 100.

"You still want to train with me?" The dark knights booming voice echoed in my ears.

"Yes!" I cheered, trying to contain my excitement.

"Not yet, sir." The butler interupted, still carrying his tray. "Not until Miss Gibson has had her hot cocoa." I smiled at the very polite man as I took the warm mug.

"Thank you." I replied as I took a sip; leaving the remenance of a faint chocolate moustache on my lip.

"You're quite welcome." He added. That's when the entire night started coming back to me. Was my mother okay?

"Do you know anything about my mother, Dr. Gibson?" I questioned frantically. Another pause emerged, encassing us all in a veil of awkward. B-man cut right to the chase.

"She's missing."

I angrilly kicked the oversized punching bag in a fit of rage. 45 minutes later I had finished my cocoa and put on my freshly cleaned pajamas from the night before. This meant war. You can mess with me, but no one messes with my mom. I threw more punches and kicks at the bag, yet it barely budged. B-man stood with a watchful eye just a few feet away.

"Brute force isn't the only thing you need to throw a punch." Batman commented. I froze mid punch. I...I thought I was doing good...ish. "You need to think."

"You think I'm just a dumb blonde airhead too." I mumbled.

"Robin had a rather poor choice of words." He replied. "You act without thinking." He was right. God, the whole Bat family needed to nag me lately.

"I know." I sighed.

"Plan your attack. Then throw your punch." He advised. I nodded as I took a deep breath. Okay, I needed to focus my energy at its weakest spot. I kicked the bottom of the bag with all my might and followed with a punch. I had finally managed to make it budge, nay it moved 4 feet in the opposite direction. "Better."

"Can't exactly waste all that time in a fist fight with a thug." I replied, noting the wasted seconds it took to accomplish this feat.

"You'll get there." He stated. I smiled. B-man had faith in me?

"Thanks." I smirked.

After about an hour of extensive training, I was dead. If the hypothermia didn't kill me then the extreme workout did. Sweat was pouring off of me, I'm pretty sure I had lost 5 pounds in that 1 hour. Finally, I sat down with a sigh of relief.

"Not bad." Batman commented. "We'll keep working."

"We will?!" I smirked with glee. He nodded. I couldn't stop the wide smile the spread on my face as I burst into uncontrollable happiness. I noticed Batman's grimace as I quicklt composed myself. For some reason, he looked terryfied. The light must be playing tricks with my eyes or something. I had to change the subject.

"So...where do I go now?" I questioned. "Please don't tell me I have to go into foster care or some bullshit."

"I've made some arrangements with Commissioner Gordon. My associate has a few connections." B-man nodded towards the old british man.

"I'm going to England?!" I screamed in a panic.

"Not exactly." B-man replied, unamused. As I was about to say something, B-man's british buddy binded my eyes with a blindfold.

"Um...what'cha doin?" I inquired, slightly concerned at where this was going.

"The location of the Batcave most remain hidden." The older gentleman informed me.

"Makes sense." I nodded. The brit guided me towards wherever B-man was going, I could hear his thunderous footsteps pounding in front of me. Soon we stopped as I heard a door this what I thought it was? "Wait...is this..."

"The batmobile? Yes madam." I smirked; just the response I wanted to hear.

"Sweet." I muttered to myself as I was guided into the passenger seat. Shotgun in the batmobile. Nice. I heard the driver's seat open and close. Batman was sitting next to me. In the batmobile. Nice. "Where too?"

"Police Station." Batman replied. Not much of a talker, eh?

"Joy." I groaned sarcastically. I had been spending way too much time with the cops lately. The car was practically silent for about ten minutes. It was just as awkward as before. Well, until a familiar voice came over the radio.

"Batman, there's a breakout at Blackgate. Like right now. I could use some backup here stat!" Robin boomed over the radio.

"I'll be there in 5. I have to drop off Miss Gibson at the precinct." Batman replied.

"I can help." I added, chimming in to the conversation.

"Sarina, it's best you stay out of this." Robin replied. I rolled my eyes under the blindfold, well aware no one would see it. "The last thing we need in this situation is a blonde girl."

"Whatever." I grumbled. "I'm sick of the blonde jokes."

"That's not what I meant, I-" Robin replied, trying to defend himself.

"Not now, I'll be there soon." With that, B-man pushed a button; shutting off the communications. Soon, the car stopped and Bats yanked the blindfold off of me.

"Finally." I sighed as I got out of the Batmobile. Batman sat in the car, apparently he was coming in with me.

"You'll be safe here for now." He consoled.

"You sure about that?" I inquired with a smirk. He gave me a knowing look as the batmobile sped off into the night. Well, I can check that off my bucket list. I turned back towards the precinct as I entered the stacion.

The GCPD was a busy place. Especially at night. Cops were running around left and right as phones were ringing off the hook. No one noticed me walk in, as they were too busy with their own work. I mean, I would've hoped someone would notice a random teenaged girl in her least covering pajamas stroll through a police station. As you can see I clearly had no idea what I was doing. Eventually, I just decided to take a seat somewhere and hope I was doing what I was supposed too. After a few minutes, no one had noticed me. Awesome. Was I in the right place? Whatever, I guess I'll look around for someone who can help me. Getting up out of the uncomfortable plastic chair, I made my way towards an office that looked the most quiet and least busy. I was about to knock on the door when-

"I say, we just take the money for ourselves." A man proposed. I froze in my place, my fist in the air mid-knock.

"Seems like easy cash to me." Another added.

"The Bats is supposed to be dropping the kid off here soon." The first explained. "Why don't we just take her as soon as she gets here before Gordon finds out. Easy Peasy."

"Lemon squeezy." His buddy replied in agreement. I rolled my eyes at the term easy peezy lemon squeezy as I snapped back into reality. Really, I'm not even safe from the cops in the city? I thought the Gordon administration had gotten rid of all the corrupt officers. Footsteps started making their way towards the door. I quickly darted into the next office, closing the door behind me. Well thankfully, they didn't know I was here yet. Now I couldn't get help from any of the real cops without getting spotted. Perhaps I could use some resourcefulness at this time. I decided to scan my surroundings. The office was empty, as all the lights were off. However, it was still in use as the computer was running and family photos were scattered across the desk. I read the name, James Gordon engraved on the table. Well this isn't too bad. Maybe I could just wait here until Gordon gets back.

Curiosity killed the cat as I noticed a bright manilla folder with my name printed on it. Great, within a week I had already gotten my very own file at the precinct. Well, it wouldn't hurt to sneak a peek. I carefully opened the file and immediately noticed the dozens of papers. The first page was of a poster with a picture of my grinning face.

Wanted

Sarina Gibson

$500,000 Dead

$1 Million Alive

Happy Hunting!

-Love

Joker!

Well that's pleasant. Somehow Joker had access to the DMV, due to the fact that the photo was my license picture which of course was super flattering. I already knew this, so I flipped to the next page. The next section was entittled: Possible 'Bounty Hunters' Bounty hunters was written in quotes. Is that what the called the crazy people after me? Listed below were all the people who have attempted to kidnap me within the past 100 hours.

The Riddler

Black Mask

The Penguin

However, listed below that were more names that I hadn't even considered.

Two-Face

Catwoman

Ventriliquist

Harley Quinn

Deadshot

Killer Croc

Mad Hatter

Corrupt Officers

This list went on and on but I couldn't bear to read any more. Could these people possibly be after me too? I hadn't even considered Gotham's other villains. The realization started to sink in that I hadn't even faced half of what was yet to come. How the hell was I going to last? I didn't want to look at the rest of the list as I flipped to the next page. It was a search poster for my mother, Dr. Gibson. I froze when I saw her name and information, offering a reward for any one who might now where she was. That killed me. I flipped past the next page not wanting to think about my missing mother. The last section entittled: Gibson reassignment.

Reassignment? As in what Batman was talking about? The first page was all about possible foster care homes. I wasn't exactly feeling those. Gah, Why couldn't I just live in an apartment or something. The next page was possible adoption applicants. Why would I need adoption, it's not like my mom's dead or anything-Oh. This is...nevermind. Besides, the list for that was much shorter than the list for foster care. No one really wants to adopt a 16 year old. They'd much rather have a baby and start from scratch. Alright, so I guess I'll just talk to Mr. Gordon, perhaps he can be persuaded into setting me up in a studio apartment or something. I doubt he would, but it was worth a shot. I was about to close the folder when one last page fell out. Of course knowing me, I instantly picked it up to investigate.

Approved Foster Care Choice

That's right, someone had already been selected. Who exactly did the British Butler use his connections to hook me up with? I scanned through the random legal jargon until I saw the signature, written in beautiful cursive handwriting. I just about passed out.

x. Bruce Wayne