She sat slumped in the parlor at Wayne Manor, in the same spot where she had unknowingly sat opposite her father two and a half years ago. This time, however, the only other occupant of the room was Alfred, who stood at the window, mulling over her words.

"You are correct, Miss Kyle, that Mr. Falcone has shown an unusual amount of care for you. And your physical similarities are, now that you mention it, conspicuous. But I highly doubt that you will find any proof that—"

"Dr. Wayne knew." She didn't like interrupting Alfred, but she couldn't bear to hear those words. "He was friends with Mr. Falcone. My father is the only one who could have told him my mother's name."

"It is possible that Master Wayne knew, yes."

"And he never told me. Maybe he never told anyone at all, not even Mrs. Wayne. But maybe he wrote it down somewhere, or left a hint as to how he found out."

"So you're asking that I allow you to go through Master Wayne's personal papers."

"You lent me the journal."

"Because I believed that Madam Wayne's notes on the Wayne Foundation would interest you."

"And you don't think that proof of my father's identity interests me? You don't think that finally learning what happened to my mother interests me?"

Alfred looked down. "You are quite right, Miss Kyle. I shall assist you in your search."

"Thank you, Alfred."

She spent the rest of the holidays at the Manor, looking through any of Dr. Wayne's papers that she could find. There was a lot of old paperwork from Wayne Enterprises, and she felt a sort of vindictive satisfaction at the thought of Bruce having to deal with all of this one day. There was also a lot from the hospital, some of it about employment and taxes and some of it about surgeries. But there wasn't anything about her or even her father.

They couldn't find any private diary, if Dr. Wayne ever kept one. Perhaps he didn't, which was why he wrote the name of Selina's mom in a journal about an entirely different matter.

"Mr. Falcone isn't mentioned anywhere here," she muttered grumpily when she regrouped with Alfred on New Year's Eve, before Leslie was due to arrive with champagne. "Do you think Dr. Wayne was involved in anything illegal with him?"

"I don't believe that, no," Alfred said determinedly. "But I do believe that he would keep quiet about anything Mr. Falcone wouldn't want publicly known."

"Such as my existence," Selina grumbled.

"Indeed, Miss Kyle. And if I may say so, perhaps it is for the best that the secret be kept. Mr. Falcone has enemies, some of them on the right side of the law but many rival criminals. If knowledge of your relation to him were to get out, it would put a target on your back. And Dr. Wayne was surely aware of that."

"I still wish he'd told me."

"I understand."

The agreement to not tell Leslie went unspoken but understood. Alfred was safe out here in the Manor, but while Leslie lived in a nice part of the city, she was still much closer to the criminals, especially when she was at her clinic. So they had put away all of Dr. Wayne's things by the time she arrived, and they spent the evening eating and drinking and watching Gotham's New Year's celebrations.

As she did every year, Selina made resolutions to better herself. This time, however, her resolutions were directed towards finding out everything that she didn't know about her parents and about herself.

If she couldn't find what she needed at Wayne Manor, she had to go directly to the source. But even just conducting the reconnaissance necessary to determine where Mr. Falcone kept his secrets was more dangerous than any thefts she had ever attempted.

First and foremost, she had to avoid being recognized, which meant a mask and cowl and something to cover her recognizable eyes. She paid cash for a pair of night vision goggles, curious as to whether an affordable civilian pair would actually work. They did, somewhat surprisingly, so she sewed them into a leather mask that she made for herself.

Her next cash purchase was a whip, as she thought of that old western she had watched with Alfred. If she could learn to disarm criminals the way that cowboy did, it would go a long way towards helping her survive her mission. She also quickly learned that the whip could help with climbing.

She spent the first part of the year practicing with her new tools and waiting for the weather to warm enough that the henchmen would become a little less comfortable in their dark suits, and a little less vigilant. She pulled off some small robberies that the tools were totally unnecessary for, but helped with nonetheless, and then worked her way up.

By April, she was in the best shape of her life, doing almost-nightly runs across rooftops and swinging from fire escapes and staying several steps ahead of the cleverest police officers.

And then, on a warm, mid-Spring day when she was jogging in Robinson Park, she nearly crashed right into her sister.

"Oops, I'm sorry." Selina swerved around the woman at the last second, not recognizing her at first. She had been thinking about her mission, as she often did when she was working out, but that wasn't the best idea when jogging through a crowded park on a sunny day.

"That's okay." The woman turned and gave a polite smile, showing the green eyes that Selina would have mirrored if not for her dark sunglasses. "Just watch where you're going."

"Uh, yeah." Selina did her best to hide her reaction, helped by the sunglasses.

She knew her sister's name by now: Sofia Falcone. She had returned to Gotham last year after graduating from business school at a certain famous university in Cambridge, Massachusetts. She had two older brothers, although one of them was living in Italy with their mom and handling the export side of their father's, ahem, import-export business.

Sofia, of course, was far less informed on the woman who had nearly knocked her over, and so simply turned away and continued her trek. Selina hesitated, but ultimately decided to follow her for a bit. She doubted that Sofia was doing anything underhanded in a crowded park in broad daylight, but she nonetheless felt the urge to get a better sense of who her sister was.

Not that following her on a walk through the park proved particularly useful in that regard, except to reveal that Sofia had a fondness for exotic trees and flowers.

At the entrance to the park, Sofia paused to talk to a policeman who was posted there. Selina quickly stationed herself out-of-sight behind a tall, overweight man. When Sofia continued on, Selina resumed tailing her, but the policeman called out to her.

"Excuse me, Miss." Selina turned, and he approached, lowering his voice. "Stalking is generally considered to be impolite."

Selina sighed. Of course Sofia had noticed her. Like father, like daughter.

Like both daughters, actually. She recognized the police officer, and lowered her sunglasses. "Hello, again."

He stared, clearly recognizing her but not remembering from where or when.

"The Christmas Gala at Wayne Tower."

"Right, you were the catering girl who ran out of there."

"Not my finest hour."

His gaze turned more sympathetic.

Selina replaced her sunglasses and moved back into the park. "Well, until our next chance meeting." She felt the officer's eyes on her as she started jogging away.

As it happened, their next chance meeting was decidedly more memorable.

It was a month later, and Selina was on her way back from a 'job,' her pockets full of the jewelry of yet another haughty heiress. She heard the scream and her heart gave a jolt, and before she could think better of it, she was swinging down into the alley where two men were attacking a girl. The men put up a fight, but Selina eventually got them down. The officer arrived just then.

"Freeze!"

"You're late," Selina replied, shielding her goggled eyes from the flashlight that was aimed alongside the gun.

But she was more concerned by the girl's expression. She seemed as afraid of the policeman as of the men who had attacked her.

"What the hell happened here?" The officer approached, his flashlight sweeping over the two unconscious men.

"Karma." Selina recognized the officer once she got a good look at his face. "Oh, it's you again."

"Huh?" Then the flashlight was aimed at her again, and she winced, flipping up her mask. "Will you put that away?"

The light lowered slowly. "It's you."

"Yes, it's me."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Helping someone who needs it. So either help or get out of the way." She hoped he would choose the second option, considering she had pockets full of stolen jewelry and the less time she spent with an officer, the better.

Of course, she knew from their first encounter what his answer would be. "Of course I'll help."

"No." The girl took a step away from him.

"It's okay," Selina said in her most compassionate tone. "I know what the bad policemen are like. He isn't one of them."

The girl looked up at her, and Selina was struck by just how young she was. She couldn't have been older then fourteen, fifteen at the very most. But her eyes were haunted, and Selina could tell that this wasn't her first encounter with men like that.

"My name's Selina," she said gently. "What's yours?"

The girl hesitated for a moment before answering. "Holly."

"Let's get you somewhere safe, Holly. Is that alright?"

Holly looked warily at the officer. "Not the police station."

"No, definitely not there." Selina shot the officer a look to preempt any protest on his part. "My place isn't far from here."

"Okay."

They helped Holly to Selina's apartment, where Isis greeted the strangers with suspicion and Flitz with characteristic playfulness.

"Are you alright with cats?"

"Yeah." The sight of the animals provoked Holly's first smile, much to Selina's relief. She went and retrieved her first aid kit as Holly knelt down to play with Flitz.

The officer stayed by the door, trading wary looks with Isis. "Thank you for your help, Officer," Selina told him. "I'll take it from here." She began treating Holly's injuries.

He looked uncomfortable. "This isn't exactly the procedure I'm supposed to follow."

"It's better for her if your colleagues don't find out. They don't handle these situations well."

He met her gaze with an understanding and compassion that was rare in his line of work. "I'm off duty tomorrow. Can I at least come by and make sure she's alright."

Selina pursed her lips. "What's your name?"

"Sam Bradley."

"Well, Officer Bradley, I don't have a great track record with off-duty cops. But..." She paused and studied him. "Alright, come by in the morning. But I leave for work at ten, so get here before then."

He nodded. "Good night." With that, he left.

"You shouldn't have invited him back," Holly said quietly.

"Not all of them are pigs."

"I've never met a good one."

"There aren't that many good cops in Gotham, but there are some." Once she had done what she could for Holly's injuries, she sat back on her heels. "Do you want to take a shower?"

Holly nodded and stood, to Flitz's disappointment.

While she showered, Selina laid out pajamas for her on the bed. Then she finally emptied her night's haul into her safe and changed out of her outfit. Noticing her own bruises on her knuckles and where the men had gotten a few hits to her legs, she sat on her couch and iced her own injuries. Isis came and sat beside her, looking judgmental.

"I know, I know, that could have gone better. I'm a little out of practice."

Isis pawed at the ice pack, her claws out.

"Maybe claws could help," Selina mused. Those men could have done with a few scars to remind them to leave women alone.

Holly emerged from the shower and, with some humble reluctance, accepted the pajamas. She was a pretty girl, her shoulder-length hair a golden shade of blonde once the grime was washed out of it. But her limbs were so skinny.

As Selina examined her, she got the sick feeling that she might have wound up in a similar situation years ago had the Waynes not taken her in.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she asked.

Holly shook her head. "I should go."

"You can stay here for as long as you like."

The girl looked sullen. "That isn't fair to you."

Selina sighed, remembering thinking that so many times at Wayne Manor. "It's fine, Holly. You can stay. You're safe here."

Holly looked down, not yet persuaded. "He'll be looking for me."

"Who'll be looking?"

"Stan."

"Who's Stan?"

"He's my... I work for him."

"Oh." Selina knew the part that wasn't said. She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. "Where can I find this Stan?"

The fear was immediate. "That's not a good idea. He'll hurt you."

"Those men tried to hurt me tonight. It didn't go so well for them."

"He has a gun."

Selina hesitated. Yes, a gun could be a problem. But she had her whip and night vision, and the element of surprise.

Holly crossed her arms. "I won't tell you where he is, for your sake."

Selina quirked a brow. "Fine. But if he looks for you, he'll find me instead."

"Do you have a death wish or something?"

"No, I don't. But I don't like men who hurt girls, or use them to make money."

Holly's shoulders slumped. She went over to the couch beside Selina, but waited until Selina gestured for her to sit. Flitz immediately darted back to her lap.

"Are you also from the East End?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

"And did you used to... work?"

"No. A kind family took me in when I was nine. I was... very lucky."

Holly smiled, but it was bittersweet.

As promised, Officer Bradley returned at nine the following morning. Selina had, with some difficulty, persuaded Holly to take the bed for what was left of the night, and relegated herself to her couch. She slept fine until Silk decided to awaken her at the crack of dawn, confused by the change in sleeping arrangements.

The off-duty cop kindly brought coffee and donuts. Holly gratefully partook even as she continued to eye the officer with suspicion.

"Thank you for not reporting what happened last night," she finally said, her tone cautious.

He looked down. "I understand that the GCPD doesn't have a great record with these sorts of cases."

"Or any other sorts of cases," Selina said wryly. "And yet you still decided to be one of the so-called 'good guys.'"

He looked at her, his eyebrows rising. But then they fell. "It's sort of the family business. My dad is a detective in Metropolis. He's... kind of a big deal." He gave a smile that was tainted with a hint of bitterness, and Selina could read both the pride in and envy of his father's legacy.

"So you're trying to follow in his footsteps, and eventually surpass him?"

He looked put out by her insight, and his gaze dropped again. "It's easier in Gotham, where fewer people know my name."

"Is it true?" Holly asked. "What they say in the news in Metropolis?"

Selina scoffed. "How can it be?" She never knew what to make of the news from Metropolis these days. She was pretty sure there was something in the water at the Daily Planet offices that kept the reporters as high in the sky as the flying bullet man that they claimed was protecting their city.

Bradley shrugged. "Things have certainly been interesting there lately. But they've been interesting here, too." His gaze returned to Selina.

"I'll bet," said Holly, a hint of cheek emerging in her tone. She looked back and forth between Selina and Bradley with an expression that Selina didn't appreciate. "Well, thank you for breakfast, Officer. I'll just slip out of your way." To Selina's chagrin, she rose and returned to the bedroom, shutting the door.

The silence immediately turned awkward. "I thought you came back to check on her," said Selina.

"That was the main reason," he insisted. "But I admit, it's nice to have an encounter with you that's planned in advance. And I wouldn't mind another."

She hated the fact that she immediately thought of Bruce, and her scarred heart beat a bit more laboriously.

"There's this new rooftop tapas place down by the river that I'm curious about, if you'd like to check it out with me."

Selina decided not to mention that the place was a new front for Falcone's business, since she was curious both about the tapas and about getting more insight into her father's operations. And if this good cop was willing to pay, she wouldn't deny herself the opportunity.

Then again, maybe he knew and also wanted to have a look around. And she found the thought more appealing than him just thinking of this as a date.

"Alright. I should be back at around nine tonight. I'll just need a little while to get ready."

His eyebrows shot up. "Tonight?"

She shrugged. "Why wait?" And the more time for anticipation she gave herself, the more her emotions would torment her.

"Alright." He glanced towards the bedroom, but if Holly was eavesdropping, she didn't take that as her cue to come back out. "I'll see you later then."

"Yeah. Thanks for breakfast." When he left, she knocked on the bedroom door.

"Come in." She opened the door to find Holly sitting on her bed, playing with Silk and Flitz. "Did you get a date with Good Cop?"

Selina snorted. "Yeah, thanks for that." She leaned against the doorframe, watching the girl with her cats. She was again struck by how young Holly was. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. You off to work?"

"Yes. You know the clinic on Ninth Street?"

Holly looked at her, suspicion returning to her eyes.

"The doctor there is a friend. Mention my name and she'll see you, no questions asked. And she's discreet."

Holly didn't look encouraged.

"You can trust her, I promise."

"I said that I'm fine."

"I just want to be sure. I'm no doctor."

Holly stared at her, her defiance giving way to confusion. "Why do you care so much?"

Selina wasn't sure she had an answer to that, even privately. She shrugged. "I just do."

Holly studied her for a few seconds. "Alright, I'll go and see your friend."

Selina was late getting back from work, and found Bradley waiting outside when she arrived. "Hey. Sorry, I just need a few."

"That's alright."

She let him in to wait inside, but paused when she saw the note on the table.

Selina,

Thank you for your help and for letting me stay, but I have to leave. Stan will find me and he will hurt you.

Good luck with the cop.

Holly

She stilled, and Bradley came up beside her, reading over her shoulder. "Who is Stan?"

"Her pimp." Selina threw down the note and glared at it. She could have protected the girl.

Bradley swore under his breath.

She turned to him. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can do tonight."

"You're going to try to find her?"

"I have to."

"Then I'll come with you."

"You don't have to do that."

"You don't think it'll be good to have a cop watching your back?"

"You're off-duty."

"I have a gun at my place. It's not far from here."

Selina hesitated, but it could be good to have a gun on her side. "Alright."

The trade off, of course, was that she had to forego her mask and whip. He hadn't asked about them last night, but that would certainly change eventually.

She wasn't eager to see her father, and certainly not in the company of a cop. "Wait out here," she told Bradley when they arrived at the Italian restaurant that Mr. Falcone was most known to frequent.

But the cop knew where they were and realized why. "You're going to ask him for help?"

"He knows the criminals in this city. Maybe he knows where to find this pimp."

Bradley scrutinized her. "You're connected to him?"

"No." She told herself that it wasn't a complete lie because there wasn't a connection in the way he was thinking. She certainly wasn't going to explain that Falcone looked out for her because she was his bastard daughter that he never outwardly acknowledged.

"Then how can you trust him?"

"Because he goes after the rogues that don't work for him, and as far as I know, he's never been involved in that... trade."

Bradley pursed his lips, glaring at the restaurant. "Just be careful in there."

"I will." Selina knew she wasn't in any danger, of course.

She entered the restaurant and looked around. Sure enough, her father was there... but so was her sister. She hesitated, wondering if Sofia would recognize her from the park, even without the sunglasses. But it had been weeks since then.

She had barely started to approach when she was intercepted by a henchman at a nearby table. "Mr. Falcone is busy."

"I need his help."

"He's dining with his daughter tonight. He's not to be disturbed."

Selina kept her reaction far beneath the surface. He was dining with his legitimate daughter. "A friend of mine is in trouble."

"You heard what I said, Miss. I can't let you—"

"Selina?" They both turned at the voice of the man in question. Both Falcones were looking at her. Sofia's gaze was scrutinizing, and Selina avoided meeting her eyes.

Their father stood and approached. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help, Mr. Falcone."

"What can I do for you?"

"I need to find a pimp."

His lips fell into a straight line. "And why would you be looking for someone like that?"

Her eyes widened at his expression. He looked like a disappointed father, and she felt a spur of frustration for multiple reasons. "He has a friend of mine."

His expression crossed halfway to sympathy. "I have never been involved in that so-called business."

"I know. That's why I was hoping you might help."

"It's best just to stay away from people like that."

"I have to help her, Sir." She had called him that before, but it felt distasteful now, knowing who he really was to her.

His face moved further along the transition to sympathy. "I can send Carlo to you tomorrow night."

A small smile started to cross her face at the mention of her old guardian, but then froze. Did Carlo know the truth? Selina had thought he was just a henchman with a heart of gold, acting on his own to protect her as he would others in similar situations. Had her father been sending him all along?

"Thank you, Mr. Falcone."

"You're welcome." He stepped back, unwilling to show any further affection with so many eyes on them. "Good evening." Then he returned to the daughter that he openly acknowledged.

Swallowing down a flurry of emotions, Selina nodded to the henchman and then left. Officer Bradley was still right where she had left him, looking tense.

She wasn't sure what to tell him.

"How did it go?"

"He'll help, but not tonight. He's..." she trailed off, not wanting to mention Carlo. Having them both help her at the same time felt like a recipe for disaster. "He's busy."

The cop scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure helping people is way down on his list of nightly priorities."

Selina frowned. "That's not the issue," she said, far too sharply.

He stared at her, his face scrutinizing. "What aren't you telling me?"

Her frustration, still mostly caused by her father, threatened to spill over. "That's not exactly a first date conversation."

"This isn't exactly a date."

She stepped past him. "Come on, we're going back to my place."

She expected a further articulation of his confusion or concern, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he fell into step beside her.

When they arrived, she turned to him. "Thanks for the escort. I'm going to call it a night."

"What? What about her?"

"If he hurts her tonight, we won't find her in time, anyway." She knew her chances were much better with Carlo's help.

"So we're not even going to try?"

She felt a war of emotions. Remembering how Bruce used to help her through those, she felt tempted to invite Bradley inside. But that would create a whole new host of issues. "Not tonight."

He looked confused and frustrated. "Fine, but I'm going to do some digging."

"Thank you. Good night, Sam."

"Good night." He stayed still as she went inside and locked the door between them.

Shoving her reluctance away ferociously, she shot another glare at Holly's note and then went to her equipment. Isis was there, seemingly anticipating her going for it. She pet the cat as she examined what she had.

"Claws," she decided. This pimp could certainly do with a few scratches, and not the kind he would enjoy.

By the following night, she had a pair of leather gloves with metal points attached to the fingers, and was testing them on a piece of plywood when there was a firm knock on her door. She opened it to find Carlo, and didn't need to know how he'd learned where she lived. Her father was keeping tabs on her. "Hey!"

He smiled. "How are you, kid?"

"I'm twenty-one now. You don't get to call me that anymore."

"Damn, when did that happen? I'm getting old."

She snorted and let him in. Just like last time, Isis was suspicious, Flitz playful, and Silk nowhere to be seen. "You got cats now, huh?"

"Yeah, I seem to have a thing for strays."

"Speaking of which, who's this friend of yours that we're rescuing?"

"I found her in an alley. A couple of men were beating her up. I just... I keep thinking that it could have been me, if not for the Waynes. That I could have wound up in... that profession."

"That wouldn't have happened to you, Selina."

She took that as confirmation that he knew the truth. But she didn't know when her father had started keeping tabs on her. Had he known where she was before they first met at Wayne Manor? Would he have left her living alone on the streets for over a year if he knew? She wanted to doubt it, because it would also mean that he didn't have anything to do with whatever happened to her mom. But that also meant that, if not for the Waynes, her father never would have been looking out for her in the first place. She would have been truly alone, as she had been for that year.

She might well have wound up in Holly's situation.

She was suddenly bursting with questions for Carlo, but that wasn't the priority right now.

"Nice gloves."

She followed his gaze to her hand. "Wait 'til you see my whip."

His eyes widened, and he looked away, shaking his head. "I'm not sure I want to know."

She rolled her eyes and went to fetch the rest of her gear. "You're not my protector tonight, we're partners. Regardless of what he told you."

"My orders are to help you. Interpret it however you like."

"Where should we start looking?"

"There's a place off Eighth, the Greased Pole. Mr. Falcone is letting them stick around 'cause it's a good place to gather information."

"Sounds classy."

"It's not the sort of place I'd be inclined to take you to, but that's not my call. Just stay close."

The lighting in the place was dim. Four pedestals were set up around the room, each with a woman dancing on a pole. They all looked older than Holly, but not by much.

Selina went over to the bar, where a woman was trying to charm a man out of some of his money. She deliberately nudged the woman as she sat down.

"Do you mind?"

"I'm looking for Stan."

The woman looked her up and down. "You looking for a job? The whip is a nice touch. We don't get many who know how to use those right."

"Where can I find him?"

The woman pointed towards a door in the far corner and turned back to her mark. Selina glanced at Carlo, who was watching from the edge of the crowd, and nodded towards the door.

The room behind the door was even darker, and there was a distinct smell of tobacco. Selina put on her mask. Four well-dressed men sat on a wide, black couch, with a half-dozen girls dancing in front of them. Holly was at the far end.

The nearest of the men stood up. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I didn't realize this was a private party. You should have locked the door." On seeing Holly, Selina's anger was stoked. She grasped her whip from where she'd attached it to her belt. "I'm looking for Stan."

The man turned to one of the others. He was thin, with a rodent-like face, and wore a golden-yellow shirt beneath a dark grey suit. He was grasping a fancy, ornamental cane.

"What can I do for you?" She could immediately tell that his East End accent was fake. He eyed the whip. "You here for a job?"

"Something like that." Selina lowered her voice to a purr. "I'm worried that I might be too old for you, though."

"Not everyone goes for the young ones. I'm sure that we can find a place for you, if you know how to use that." He gestured towards the whip with the cane. "You'll have to ditch the mask, though. That's too niche for good business."

"Really? That's a shame." Judging which of the men would likely be fastest to draw his gun, Selina turned and lassoed him with her whip. Carlo emerged from where he'd stayed in the shadow cast by the open door, his own gun aimed.

"What the hell is this?" Stan demanded.

Now that all of the men were aware of the gun, Selina released the one she had snared and instead slung her whip towards the pimp, striking the hand that held the cane. It clattered to the floor.

"Ouch! What kind of psycho are you, lady?"

"I don't like men who hurt girls." With another swing, her whip had looped around the man's neck, and she grabbed the other end, pulling it tight.

"Hurt them?" he rasped, trying to loosen the hold around his neck. "I put a roof over their heads."

"In return for how much of their profits?"

"That's just business."

She dropped the end of the whip and swung with her claws, opening three gashes across his cheek and nose. He cried out. Then she tightened the whip again and pulled his head down, raising her knee to meet it. With a crack, he fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Sleen?" Holly slurred. Her eyes were unfocused. She'd been drugged with something strong. All of the other girls looked to be in the same situation.

With a few quick moves from Selina and Carlo, all of the other men were unconscious. "You all should get out of here," she told the girls, but none of them were fit to heed the advice.

With difficulty, she and Carlo managed to get all of the girls out through a back door and into an alley towards Ninth Street. Leslie's clinic was closed, so she picked the lock. She would apologize tomorrow.

Once the girls were safe in the waiting room and the clinic was locked up again, she pulled off her mask and turned to Carlo. "Thank you."

"You're getting pretty scary, Selina," he replied, although there was no reproach in his tone.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

He gave a wry grin. "I'll let Mr. Falcone know that everything went well. See you around, kid."

She returned to the clinic in the morning to find a harried-looking Leslie. "I'm sorry about leaving them here. Are they okay?"

"They will be. None of them are very coherent about what happened last night."

"They were pretty heavily drugged. I had to bring them here."

"Does that mean you were the giant cat?"

"What?"

"Some of them are under the impression that they were rescued by a giant black cat."

Selina shook her head. "Like I said. Where's Holly?"

Leslie directed her to the patient in question and gave them time to talk.

The girl looked like she was prepared to be chastised, but Selina had no interest in doing that. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better, but I've been worse. Was that you last night?"

"Yeah."

"You clawed Stan's face. You were like a... a cat-woman."

Selina grimaced. "I was angry."

"It was cool."

"If he comes after you, it will be worse for him."

"Does that go for all of the girls?"

She sighed. "I can't protect everyone."

Holly thought for a moment. "What if you could? If you had a rep that would scare the assholes away? The Catwoman, protector of the women of the East End."

"Catwoman?"

"It's cool. And the clawmarks on Stan's face will add to the impression."

Selina pursed her lips, but Holly had a point. The Catwoman could become a specter, a phantom to ward men away from hurting women, the same way that her father's name kept criminals in line without him having to take much action. "Alright, I'll be the Catwoman."