Huntress

I remember waking up in agony. I remember calling into work, and then things got hazy. I remember Mandragora's corpulent face, leering over me as he pressed his silenced gun to Dick's forehead. They didn't know he was there, they were helpless. And then darkness.

Cold. Dark. Silent. Terror again. And then cold, and silence, and more darkness.

I knew on some level that I was dead. That he'd found me, and killed me the way he'd killed everyone I ever loved. I was dead, and this was hell.

I came to with a start, hearing voices. Dick sounded worried. Oracle too. And Batman. I thought he left. Figures.

I rolled over, slowly opening my eyes, and the IV needle in my arm pulled at my skin. I shifted to straighten out the arm, blinking up at the three faces suddenly in my field of view.

"What happened to her?" It had been Batman's voice that woke me.

In response, Dick peeled the covers away from my shoulder, showing him the results of last night's handiwork.

"I cleaned it, thoroughly." He sounded disgusted.

"Do we know anything yet?" I asked, sparing us all the tirade I knew was coming from one or the other of them.

Dick looked like he wanted to simultaneously laugh and cry in relief, but he settled for taking my hand and squeezing it gently. Of course. She was here, he couldn't show any affection. Bitch.

Just once, I wanted to be coddled and fawned over like everyone did to her. Just because her legs didn't work didn't make her any more fragile than any of the rest of us. I wasn't fooled by the act.

"All business, huh?" he asked me, teasing.

I managed a tight little smile. "Keep your mind in the game, Nightwing. It's the only way to get out alive." I saw approval flit across Batman's face, even through the cowl. I wished I didn't care, but I did, and I liked it.

"I've finished analyzing the compound. I don't think it has any connection to what's happening to you. It shuts down the frontal cortex for up to 12 hours."

I looked at him, not following. Oracle chimed in. "The frontal cortex controls morality, logic, language, everything that makes us human. Without it, we run on instinct... The four f's."

"Four f's?"

Dick grinned at me. "Fighting, feeding, fleeing, and, um, sex."

"But that doesn't start with an... oh." My brain felt like it was trying to drag itself through a pool of sludge. It would get where everyone else got, just slower, and stickier. I let it slog for a minute, until it processed a reasonably intelligent question.

"Why is it only affecting men?"

Batman shrugged, his cape whispering back into its soft folds behind him.

"We're not sure yet. We tried it on samples of all of our blood, and it survived in mine and Nightwing's, but not in Oracle's. It just curled up and died."

"Did you try mine?"

Oracle was gentle, speaking slowly. I think she was the only one who realized how drugged I really was. "Helena, you have more chemicals in your system right now than Bane. It wouldn't be a valid test. We're trying it on some samples we already had in stock right now."

"In point of fact, Bane only used one chemical. How many am I on?" The sludge must be easing up, if I could still be a smart-ass.

Dick chuckled, holding up a handful of syringes from the nightstand. "This many."

I facepalmed, forgetting about my hands, and winced. "No wonder I feel like a zombie myself..."

I saw a glance dart between Batman and Oracle, something significant, and suddenly Batman was taking a small vial of my blood, and disappearing back out to the lab.

"What was that?" Dick looked as confused as I was. Oracle turned to follow the Bat, her expression causing us both to mirror her concern.

"What if this thing IS contagious?" She wheeled out, leaving us to stare at each other. We started speaking at the same moment.

"My frontal cortex is working fine..."

"It's just an infection..."

We stopped and then I just started laughing. Oh, the grand irony, if I got turned into a 12 hour zombie by a drunken frat boy on a rampage. Who knows, it might be fun. Maybe I'd finally kick that skinny holier-than-thou prodigy out of her chair and curb stomp her a couple times. I wondered if I'd want to eat her, and if I did, what she might taste like.

Nah. I was pretty sure if my morality center stopped functioning, the first thing I was going to do is tear that henley off Dick's chest and-

My brain wouldn't go any further than that, as it reminded me that I was in too much pain to sit up, much less go cavorting around molesting trust fund babies on my kitchen table. Nope. Definitely not a zombie.

He was looking at me, concerned. "Helena, what is it? What's so funny?"

I dissolved into giggles again, shaking my head. "You wouldn't possibly find it as funny as I did."

His confusion made it funnier, and I laughed until I could barely breathe and he was on the verge of sedating me again.