"I don't get it," Stephens muttered. His partner nodded in agreement.

Commissioner Gordon sighed. "To be honest I don't either, but we don't have much choice." He fiddled with the pen on his desk. Truly, it didn't make much sense.

Bringing in a DA was the only choice they had when the previous one quit after an incident with Batman, but truly there was a place where one had to draw a line. Gordon had expected a DA from another high crime area, such as New York, Chicago, or even Los Angeles.

Instead they were getting a Louisiana bayou girl, whose successful cases could be counted on one hand. Rumor had it that it was her office that kept crime down, while the DA herself spent days at the spa.

He actually was supposed to meet the woman earlier today, but she had canceled, so instead he followed up on a lead about Batman, and once night had fallen he quit the field work until a call came in. So far, none had come in and Stephens had stopped by with his new partner. A conversation about the new DA, and other things, started and twenty minutes had passed before they heard a noise.

The conversation ended fairly quickly by a slight ruckus outside of Gordon's office. Since the Major Crimes Unit was still being rebuilt, the unit had been forced to move uptown to the Commissioner's building. The resulting piles of papers made very easy targets for the clumsy blond that had just strode in. The three men from Gordon's office weren't the only ones standing, mouths agape, as the woman and the desk sergeant tried to pick the papers back up without knocking anything else over.

When papers were finally together, and forcefully taken from the woman by the desk sergeant, she straightened her black skirt and faced those standing behind her. Brushing the fly away that had gotten in her face during the fight with the papers, she finally had a chance to view their faces.

Spotting Gordon, the tall blond held out her hand, "Commissioner Gordon? I'm Victoria Johnson, your new DA."

Gordon's mouth snapped shut as he shook her hand. Good Lord, he thought, she won't last a week.

A few minutes later they were seated in his office. She'd given the customary greeting and was politely about to say what a pleasure it was to be there, when Gordon began laughing.

"There is no need to lie," He said, "We both know this city isn't a pleasure to be assigned to."

Johnson ducked her head and chuckled, "This city does have a reputation."

Gordon sighed and debated. He wasn't sure what the woman in front of him was here for, and wondered whether she was planning on treating this city the same way as she had in Louisiana.

What he didn't expect was for her to understand his look, and lean forward with a sigh of her own. "I know you don't think I can handle this city because of my reputation." She took a deep breath and continued, "And I feel absolutely no need to prove myself to you. I will tell you that I am here on a short-term basis, hopefully, and for a specific reason."

Gordon stared at the woman before him. Who does this woman think she is?The arrogance of the person before him was startling. Clearly the rumors must have been true.

While he was thinking, she was frowning. "Stop that," she snapped and smacked her own stack of papers on his desk, "because my specific reason is a bit of a biggie." Johnson paused. "I think," She added before standing. "Don't worry yet though, I'm just here to meet you, not bombard you with mad requests." She looked down and tugged her skirt slightly, almost nervously, "After all, I did rudely cancel earlier."

Before Gordon had a chance to respond, Johnson held out her hand. "Believe it or not, it was good meeting you." After a brief shake of the hand, she turned on her heel and strode out of the office.

Her exit may have been dramatic, but as she crossed to the elevator she stumbled and landed hard on her elbows. There was a flurry of movement as several officers helped her up, and the (very pink) DA left.

Gordon just watched from his office as the woman left.

Stephens leaned against the wall next to him, "Commissioner, you're looking a little shell shocked from the blond bombshell." He took a closer look at his boss. Seriously, the man must have been knocked into oblivion. "What'd she say?" Stephens asked.

Gordon turned to look at him, "I have absolutely no idea."

"Shit, shit, shit," Victoria Johnson muttered as she left as fast as her feet could take her. "I hate meeting new people, why did I leave my bayou?" She finally reached her car and wrenched open the door. "I know why, 'cause I'm an idiot." She nearly broke the key when she jammed it into the ignition, "And to top it all off, I make a fool of myself in front of the commissioner and his entire office." With a final curse, she started the car and took a deep breath. Its okay, she told herself, it could always be worse. Unfortunately the tiny voice of doubt was not so easily thwarted. She sighed and pulled out of the lot.

The drive to her apartment was surprisingly quiet and she found a parking space relatively easy. In fact it was right outside her building.

"Thank you, God," she uttered quietly. Even small blessings in this city deserve thanks. She opened her door slowly.

Suddenly, she slammed it shut and locked all her doors. Just it time too, for a man in black stopped directly outside her window. She hadn't seen him in the shadows, not until he moved.

When he tapped on her window, she realized the shiny thing she saw was indeed not a watch.

She rolled down the window just a little and called out, "What do you want?"

"Open the door."

"Huh uh."

"Open the door."

"Huh uh."

He growled and raised the gun higher, and Johnson frowned. Why? Really, Why? At least she hadn't turned off the ignition. Thank God for that, too. About to peel out of the lot, she almost didn't see the flash of even darker black behind the thug and the yelp as he was jerked from sight.

Johnson carefully opened her car door, and watched the short fight warily. When it was over Batman turned to her.

"As Gotham's DA you should be more careful."

Johnson raised an eyebrow and was about to protest, that she didn't do anything wrong, the thug just wanted to pick on her, when he turned and disappeared.

Her mouth snapped shut. "Well," was all she said before she called on Gotham's finest. After all, who else who collect the cursing man at her feet?

In the dark, a woman yelped and gasped. Rolling and thrashing as she kicked out at the sheets, she twisted while in the throes of her nightmare. Finally, she broke free and sat up, panting.

She curled up against her knees, gasping quietly before she gained her breath. She glanced at the clock.

The clock on the nightstand read 4:00.

Planting her bare feet firmly, she stood up quietly and left her bedroom. She stopped at the next room in the hall, and peaked inside. The figure curled up in bed was fast asleep. She relaxed a little, and continued on her path to cabinet in the living room. She reached inside, and pulled out a book.

Book in hand; she knelt on the floor in the middle of the room.

"Lord, please protect my family." She shook her head, "Lord if this is a gift of Prophecy, I don't want it." Her arms were shaking as she clutched the book to her chest, "It can't be real God, it can't be."

When she was finally lulled into sleep by her own rocking and praying, the book fell from her arms to the floor. The streetlight showed the title.

Holy Bible.