Chapter 15 - Opportune directions

Closing the new apartment door behind her, Tanya gradually stripped off her clothes on the way to the kitchen. Tiredly switching on the kettle she returned to her bedroom in order to search through her bookshelf.

Five minutes later she was sitting on the floor, coffee mug in one hand, biology textbook in the other, the entirety of her mother's collection of scientific works strewn about all around her, in a display best described as organized chaos. Tanya wasn't picky; from National Geographic brochures to an illustrated lexicon, she was soaking it all up.

Or at least trying to do so.

While the serum she took had given her super-strength and unbelievable control over her own body, it had apparently not made her supernaturally intelligent. The difference between merely remembering a fact and actually understanding it was as wide as between heaven and earth. That she was feeling mentally drained before even coming home didn't help her studies by any measure...

Nonetheless she kept reading deep into the night. After finally turning off the production of adrenaline in her kidneys, the full force of pain from her injured hand had returned. She needed to find a solution to this irritating annoyance ASAP, which if possible would be permanent.

Besides the possible dangers of what amounted to a self-performed brain surgery, that process was an extremely difficult one. Tanya already had a basic understanding of how the human body worked and her innate senses helped her somewhat in discerning each and every tissue's purpose, but altering her very brain was… Well, it was akin to reaching inside an anthill to slightly nudge a single insect without disturbing its thousands of identical looking, fast moving and very fragile sisters or their surrounding structures.

It also created the weirdest introspection she ever had where she felt like staring into an endless mirror when she literally noticed herself thinking and subsequently thinking about thinking which led to thinking about thinking about-

To say it was a messy affair would be an understatement. In the end her efforts brought her closer to her goal, but she did not feel confident enough to doctor around with the very way she perceived reality in her currently tired state. Fortunately, refreshing her knowledge on hormones had taught her where Melatonin was produced which made sleeping at all despite her still painful wound, possible.

Opening her eyes to the hateful morning sun she scrambled for her contact lenses so she could escape the light seeping through her blinds.

"Happy Christmas..." Tanya half-heartedly congratulated herself and unpacked the bar of high quality chocolate which she had bought for this moment. Naturally, she did not eat much of it, but its sweet taste nonetheless managed to soothe her spirit. Today she would not work, she had decided.

While it may seem wasteful to let an entire twenty-four hours simply pass by, she understood the value of proper rest. There were seldom hours in her life where she was actively resisting the pull to do something, but multiple independent studies had proven its worth on human efficiency. Furthermore, if you couldn't enjoy life then what was the point of existing in the first place?

Thus, instead of training her mind and body, she spent most of the day on her couch in front of her outdated TV or with a good book unrelated to her troubles and used that precious free time to reflect on where she stood in life and on where she was going in the future.

She stood at the cusp of many different possibilities. Broke as she might be, one successful job should be enough to correct her finances in a positive direction. Even if it was a bit premature to compare herself to hardened criminals who had controlled this city for years, Tanya was certain that she could take them on. For the most part, they were just normal, flawed human beings as the Joker had shown her and because her understanding of biology would only continue to expand, so would her options and she would constantly rise ever higher above their limited capabilities.

All she needed was to keep her anonymity and guarantee the element of surprise and soon enough she would be squeezing them for all they were worth! In her estimation, if she hit a major drug den each week for around fifty-thousand dollars then she could resolve her debt to the mafia within the next year. That was of course a very optimistic prognosis, but it would keep her motivated.

Idly playing with the locket that Mr. Freeze had given her, she distractedly let it drop onto the table and was surprised when it snapped open. Prying the delicate little thing further open revealed the black and white photograph of a smiling woman inside. She looked to be in her twenties and smiled happily, as if it had been the greatest day of her life when the picture was taken... Someone was standing beside her, possibly wrapping their arm around her judging from their closeness, but the paper was cut off to fit inside the pendant. Tanya was no genius detective, but this was likely the wife or girlfriend of Mr. Freeze.

Hazy as her thoughts might have been when she killed him, she could still remember his last words. He wanted her to 'save her', likely meaning the woman in the photo. The how or why had of course not been included in his request, due to him being busy bleeding out, but Tanya had no interest in making other people's problems her own anyway. If the giant, futuristic, technology-wielding ice villain couldn't help his love interest then what chance did she have?

She nearly closed the useless memento, but her eyes fell on the inside of the lid. Engraved in the metal were a row of numbers and letters – coordinates?

Maybe it marked the location of a grave site? However, the way Mr. Freeze had spoken about this unknown woman implied that she was still alive. Ugh, Tanya really wasn't in the mood to go for another wild goose chase again... All she had been doing during her short career as a 'supervillain' was run around Gotham with absolutely nothing tangible to show for it. Her wallet was as empty as before.

On the other hand, following the mysterious hint could just result in a harmless hike. It wouldn't even be work, really, merely some exercise with fresh air... Yeah, no… even she knew that was just an excuse, but lying around and doing nothing was truly grating on her nerves at this point. Sighing, she began to search for a map of the city and her compass.

-W-

Harley didn't know what had happened after she captured Robin. There was this blurry memory of answering some questions – or was she the one asking them? Regardless, one moment she had been about to enact an awesome plan for a funny joke at Batman's expense and the next she woke up in a canal, freezing her toes off...

What the hell happened?

She was of course familiar with getting absolutely wasted and waking up somewhere else – oftentimes naked – but this went a little far. Before doing anything to figure things out, however, she needed to find her darling. He had to be somewhere. This was all a game after all, right? Life was a game and it was supposed to be fun! Only, she wasn't having fun for some reason... Thus her hubby would need to make everything right again, just as he always did! Eventually. Sometimes?

Yeah, sometimes. Occasionally he made everything worse... Like that one time where she laughed about the wrong joke and he beat her with a crowbar.

'Let's not think about that. We can be sad when we find him. Wait, why am I talking to myself in plural?'

Though... Where was he? Had the police... Yes, the cops probably got him! Batman surely knocked them out and... Actually, she wasn't too sure about why she wouldn't be in custody after that, but nothing was making sense in her head anyway.

But she couldn't just waltz into the station and demand to know where her hubby was. Those meanies would simply cuff her and not answer any questions at all! Not to mention that in her current dishevelled state it would just have no style at all... Maybe Mr. Popsicle could help out? Nah, he was too grumpy. Similarly, all her goons were right out. They were useless beyond hauling stuff around and looking threatening.

There was only one place where she could find info on everything crime related: The Golden Raccoon!

Crawling away from under the dumpster she had used to hide, Harley fastened the plastic bag on her head with a knot under chin and turned her jacket inside out. Her make-up was smudged beyond all recognition already, so she didn't need to touch that. No need to get identified by some random passerby.

The Golden Racoon – aside from its stupid name – could also boast to house one of the best information brokers in the city. No one knew his name, but she had made use of his services many times in the past. For example, he had been the one to contact Mr. Popsicle on her behalf and that turned out splendidly! Still, he was not trustworthy in the slightest so she would need to be on her guard.

"Harley?" the bartender asked, apparently surprised by her appearance.

She returned the greeting with a nod, thinking of ordering a cup of warm tea against the cold. Before she could get so much as a word in, however, someone else spoke up.

"That's Harley? Heh, guess she's on the lookout for a new boyfriend now." sniggered a tattooed thug.

Sparse laughter erupted from his corner of the room and she furrowed her brow in confusion. Did these idiots not have any respect for the Joker? They would be eating their own entrails very soon for saying that...

"Hey, girlie... Want a big strong shoulder to cry on?"

"The only reason why I would be crying is your stench. You're like a damn onion." she retorted, her lip curled up in disgust.

What was up with these morons? No one had ever bothered her here before, not like this at least.

"Oh, feisty. You have a lot of spunk for someone who got their face beat in on live TV."

Was that why her nose hurt so much!?

"Yeah? Then why don't I beat yours in?" Harley smiled back before kneeing the guy in the groin and then instantly slamming his head against the counter. Like the wimp he was, he went out like a light.

"Oi, oi, oi... Even if you're a woman we'll have to beat you up for hurting Ricardo like that."

"Can't you see who I am, you idiots? I am Harley Quinn! Leave me alone if you want to live."

"And? You're nothing anymore, Harley. Not now that your Sugar Daddy is dead."

"Dead? What the hell are you talking about!?"

"Oh? Did a screw get knocked loose when the White Lady made you kiss the floor?"

"One screw more than usual, you mean, hehehe." his ugly friend interjected to their overall amusement.

"Fuck off. Don't waste my time." Harley snarled, thoroughly fed up with their shit.

"Nah, little lady. You're wasting our time. Don't play retarded and tell us where that clownshit hid his money. Maybe then we'll let you go with only a kiss and without roughing you up too much for messing with Ricardo? That sound like a deal?"

Wordlessly she took a fighting stance. She felt weak and cold and overall pretty terrible, but Harley was still confident that she could kick these fools' asses.

"Hey, now... No brawling in here or I'll throw you both out, understood!?" interjected Manfred the barkeeper, who until now had kept silent.

"Relax Manny... The little lady started it. She thinks she is still hot shit even after she got demolished for everyone to see. She's a nobody now. No reputation, no allies, no nuthin'."

The fat guy with the beard then pointed at her: "You're zilch without the Joker. You're just his pretty sidekick."

"Yeah! Nobody cares about what you're doing. You're old news... Just a chick with pigtails and bad make-up, like every third hooker on Albero Street. There's literally nothing special about you."

"Lads, enough. Ms. Quinn is a respected customer of this fine establishment. Leave her be... At least until his majesty has judged her worth." Manfred declared with a serious expression and everybody had finally enough sense to quiet down.

One gesture of his hand gave her permission to head on through the doorway at the other end of the room and up the stairs to the first floor. Knocking on the door for the sake of politeness, Harley let herself in.

The small booth she stepped into was purposefully designed to be as claustrophobic and obscuring as possible. Dark holes lined the walls around her, hiding who knows how many ways to kill any potential enemy of the man on the other side of the bulletproof glass that was now directly in front of her.

"Ahhh... If it isn't our dear Harley Quinn. My condolences for your loss. How can I help you today?" asked the shadowed silhouette of a man.

She got directly to the point, unwilling to spend a second more than necessary in this dingy death trap: "Where is the Joker?"

"The Joker?" he asked, appearing to be genuinely puzzled.

"Yes. Where is my puddin'?"

"Weren't you there to witness what happened to him?"

"I..." she tried to remember, but a feeling of dread started to rise in her chest at his ominous tone.

"Oh my... Well, seeing as the entire world already knows I see no problem in sharing this for free... Your dear partner was shot in the head by the vigilante known as 'White Lady'. He is certifiably dead. I am most sorry for your loss."

No... no, it couldn't be!

"That- that's not true!" she tried to argue, but it felt hollow.

Was he really... But how?

Tears welled up in her eyes as her whole body began to shake in violent denial.

"I'm afraid it's quite true. I've seen pictures of his corpse with my own eyes."

His cold words made her physically recoil.

Should she cry for her loss? Should she laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Unable to cope with the many conflicting emotions ravaging her insides like a swarm of flesh-hungry maggots, Harley turned to the easiest way out: Hate.

"Then... Then where is this bitch!?" she screamed, her face contorted in a mask of fury.

White Lady needed to die! No, she needed to suffer!

"I don't know."

"What!?"

He didn't know!? Useless! Turning around, she was about to storm out of the room and go find this thrice damned whore herself, but when she ripped at the doorknob it wouldn't let her out.

"No so hasty now, Ms. Quinzel. I may not know where she is currently located, but I might have an idea of where she might show up soon..."

Whirling back to face the hidden broker, she hissed: "Tell me everything."

-W-

The coordinates led her to a rundown Laundromat. It seemed to still be in use, but nobody who wasn't homeless or otherwise starved for options would want to set foot into the dingy, cobweb covered facility. This appeared to be a dead end... How disappointing.

Though, she wanted to at least take a look inside before returning home. Maybe this was a front for a less legal business or somebody forgot a few loose pennies in the machines? Stepping through the cracked entrance door, she was greeted with a heavy silence. Not even her enhanced ears could pick up anything, which in itself was weird. No washing machine was turning and nobody was sitting guard. The whole building was just… empty.

Now that definitely rang some alarm bells in Tanya's head. Had the owner forgotten to lock the door over Christmas? No… the electricity was still running as was apparent by the, oddly silent, flickering neon tube in the middle of the dirty room. This warranted further investigation.

Seeing no door to the service room, she went back outside and circled around to the backside of the Laundromat. There, a ramp led downwards to a remarkably secure looking cellar door. It was the only other entrance into the building, because there were absolutely no windows. How curious...

The door was protected by a four digit passcode. Checking the pendant again sadly revealed no convenient combination to unlock it, but it gave her an idea. Carefully examining the buttons showed her that four of them were more used than the others. Someone – presumably Mr. Freeze – was harshly hammering against the One, Three, Eight and Nine. Technically, any combination of these four digits was possible, but if the villain had been as sentimental as his memento suggested then she wanted to bet that he used the numbers of a specific year as the code.

'Let's try... 1983?' Tanya thought and pressed the confirmation button.

With a deep rumble the steel slab gave way and let out a swell of remarkably cold air, even for winter conditions. The interior was hidden by a plastic curtain, but Tanya could hear the faint droning of machinery now and smell the excess of industrial chemicals from behind it... Carefully entering the potential trap, she was surprised by what she found.

She had heard of secret lairs and hidden, underground villain bases before, but to see one in person was enlightening. Those highly individualized and decked out criminals naturally needed a discreet safe haven where they could repair their gear and organize their underlings. A home away from home, so to speak, as to not mix their anonymous work with their own private life.

Mr. Freeze's hideout fit this bill to a tee. Large racks on the walls held all kinds of machinery and armour parts. Lab equipment was stacked neatly on shelves and multiple extensive blueprints lay strewn across the rows of worktables and small storage containers. Most eye-catching of it all however was what stood in the centre of the room: A gigantic glass tube filled with blue ice, locking the woman suspended inside of it in a serene mockery of sleep.

So, this was who Mr. Freeze had been talking about...

Tanya beheld the frozen lady's peaceful expression with wonder, marvelling at how she could possibly be alive still, in such a state. Had Mr. Freeze actually discovered cryo-sleep or was he just delusional? Wouldn't such low temperatures simply destroy every cell in the human body? Thinking back, the villain's own pale skin and cold blood, he clearly had found a way to survive this kind of environment, so she supposed it was possible.

No matter, the fate of the unknown woman would remain undecided. Tanya was not averse to helping out a person in need, but she had far more urgent problems to concentrate on. Though maybe she would be able to solve some of them in the near future...

Yes, if Batman hadn't discovered this location yet, then it would serve her well as her own base of operations.

-W-

It was time. Barbara had been medically cleared of all remaining suspicions. She was as healthy as can be. That meant it was finally time to meet with Commissioner Gordon...

Standing on the roof of the man's house they waited for him to come upstairs. His footsteps got louder and louder until the door to the rooftop sprang open and the police chief burst out to wordlessly throw his arms around Barbara. Batman purposefully averted his eyes, allowing them their private moment.

The two hugged deeply for a long couple of seconds before the Commissioner at long last, hesitantly pushed his daughter away. An uncomfortable silence then settled over the three of them as each one waited for the other to speak first.

Barbara was ultimately the one to break the ice: "Dad… I know it must have come as a surprise to find out that I was Batgirl. I know I should have told you and it was irresponsible of me to just-"

"No." Jim cut her off with a firm shake off his head.

"Uhm… I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-"

"No, Barbara... You don't have to tell me that you're sorry. When I was a teenager I was off participating in nighttime races and smoking stuff I probably shouldn't have with my buddies. If my father had ever gotten word of that he would have lashed me black and blue with his belt... It's normal for young people to overestimate themselves and get into stupid shit. You're way smarter than I ever was, so I don't think I have to explain to you what you did. I know you're sorry, because your mother and I raised you to be a thoughtful and empathetic young woman. What I don't know is if the one who brought this all about feels the same way. Do you have anything to say about this, Batman?"

He had anticipated this reaction and as such had prepared a response.

"Indeed. I do not regret teaching Barbara what she needed to become Batgirl, because she has at no point given me reason to doubt the strength and integrity of her character. She has always behaved like a true hero and fought admirably for Gotham's safety."

"That's it?" asked the police chief with a blank expression.

"Any apology I could give you would be meaningless for the same reason you told your daughter. Simple words would not be enough to make amends for allowing her to get captured and threatened by the Joker and Harley Quinn."

"But that was my fault! I went out without your permission and-!" she tried to deflect, but Batman held up a hand to stop her.

"That doesn't change anything. I made the choice to let them escape and you nearly paid the ultimate price for it. We both… overestimated ourselves that night."

And didn't that sting? He always prided himself for being prepared and finding a solution to every problem, no matter how grand. But what if the Joker had pulled the trigger before White Lady did? How would he have solved that?

"I can't let you pay for my mistakes. And that is why… I would like you to quit your role as Batgirl, Barbara. You have more to give to this world than by fighting with your fists..." Batman intoned gravely, seeing the betrayal and acceptance both flicker over her face.

"I… Yes. If you think so… I believe that would be for the best." she admitted quietly, shuffling her feet.

"You do not have to stop being a hero. You can save people in a different way than with violence."

He looked towards the Commissioner, gauging his opinion of the situation.

Jim's face was just as unreadable as before.

"Come on Barbs. Let's celebrate Christmas together. We're alive and healthy in the end and that's all that really matters." he muttered as he threw his arm over her shoulder and gently led her inside.

On the threshold of the stairs the police chief turned back and offered a simple nod.

"Happy Christmas to you as well, Batman..."

It seemed he had not lost another friend to his own bad choices today.