"Absolutely not," the olive-skinned monk in front of Saint Christopher's lockup folded his arms and looked sternly down on the two women before him. "If the prisoner has anything to say, she can say it to us."

"She doesn't want anything to do with you guys, though," Stephanie said. "She's apparently one of Angel's fans."

"Everyone on this boat is a fan of angels." Whether he hadn't understood her or was being willfully obfuscating wasn't clear. "The answer is no."

"You'll be right here," Cassandra said. "Is there another way out?"

"None."

"Then you two could stop her even if she did get out. And she won't," Cassandra said. "She likes me. Maybe I can reach her."

Stephanie said, "Seriously, sir—"

"Carlos," he said. "My name is Carlos."

"All right, seriously, Carlos." Stephanie tried again. "Maybe she'll turn on her cause. Maybe she won't, but what do you have to lose if she does?"

"She's from an evangelizing cult," Carlos said. "I leave you alone in there and she may well deceive you with her serpent's tongue."

"A serpent's tongue that might also reveal secrets of that cult you just mentioned," Stephanie said. "And there's a big difference here. She likes my friend's work, but Angel can't stand what she's done. We're at an advantage here."

"A perfect setup to be won over by flattery."

"We work in Gotham. Bad guys try to flatter us all the time. Not getting sucked over to the dark side is something we do all the time," Stephanie said.

The monk's eyes widened as he looked back and forth between them. "Wait—Gotham? What?"

Cassandra and Stephanie exchanged looked before turning back toward him. Stephanie asked, "Wait a minute—there wasn't a memo about this?"

"We, uh—" Carlos stopped and searched about to confirm no one was monitoring them too closely. "We were told we were making a transport of some important people. And we were told they gave some ridiculous codenames when they boarded the ship. But that was all we were told." He looked between them, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface. "If you're from Gotham, are you—you couldn't be—"

"My uniform is in my backpack, and she's got hers too." Stephanie said. When Cassandra shot her an edgy look, she shrugged. "We already gave our titles, right?"

"You're serious?" he said. "You're allies to—" he brought his voice down to a hush and asked, "The Batman?"

"Since we were teenagers," Stephanie said. "Surely you can trust us, right?"

"… I want to see the uniforms." As Carlos contemplated, he began tapping the floor with his foot. "And if you're not fooling around, well—well—well then, I want a picture. You know, a photo."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Stephanie asked, "You're serious?"

A smile forced its way up onto the monk's stubborn face. "The others in my monastery would freak if I showed them my photograph with some of the heroes from Gotham!"

After looking at one another for a hesitant moment, Stephanie said, "We could maybe figure that out. But we're a ways from our room right now, and if we come back dressed up, it'll just look suspicious. Can you let her by and we'll make plans to meet up later?"

After a moment's thought, Carlos said, "What, what if this is just deceit? How do I know you're who you say you are?"

"All right, fine, fair point. How about this?" Stephanie reached into her pocket, drew her cellphone, and entered a series of button prompts that set it to, "Work mode." After a brief scroll of her messages, she found what she was looking for, tapped the screen, and held the phone up.

A moment later, a deep, resonant voice came in through the speakerphone. "I'm going to be off-world for at least the next week. Something to do with a plot by Mongul. After the Black Mercy incident, Superman expect me to be there in case I need to bring him back from the brink again. I know Gotham is in capable hands—"

Carlos brought his fists to his mouth and squealed. "Incredible! Absolutely incredible! But, I mean, can I know you didn't fake that?"

"Do you think I would just keep a recording like that on my phone?" Stephanie said. "I can't even get a good cellular signal out here."

The monk gave a last look around to ensure none of his contemporaries were coming. "All right, listen, someone needs an eye on this door at all times. You can go—that is—one of you can go in. Just one, so I know one of you is waiting for the other. And if I start rapping at the door, you need to keep quiet. And if, God forbid, anyone comes in, it wasn't me who let you through. Do you understand?"

Cassandra nodded and said, "Thank you."

Carlos nodded back and laid a hand on the doorknob. "No, thank you for all you do." He opened the door, and Cassandra slipped inside.

Within was a small room not unlike the barracks the team from Gotham slept in the night before. Half of the room sat divided by the wall of the prison cell down the middle, Cassandra's side bore a table and two chairs. On the opposite side of it stood a toilet, a small bed, and a trough of salt pressed against the bars. Atop the bed, with her hands manacled together, sat Nijah. And as Cassandra surveyed the room, the other woman flashed a smirk.

Cassandra looked back and forth between the bars of the cell, the line of salt on the floor, and the woman opposite her. "Good someone else is handling lockup," she said. "Let an enemy free out of pity once."

Half of a smile crossed Nijah's face. "How did that work out?"

"Went well, eventually." Cassandra shrugged. "But he left me in a cast that same day. So, yes, better this way."

Nijah glared at the door a moment before she asked, "How long are they giving us our privacy?"

"Don't know," Cassandra said. "Until I say we're done, maybe."

"I don't trust them," Nijah said. "Any chance you could shove a chair under the door?"

Cassandra's frown deepened. "Don't know how you'd use that, but I'm sure you would."

"You want the truth? I've been wearing my hijab too long," Nijah said. "It's sweaty and itchy, but I don't trust the guards not to just barge in here to investigate me. I'm just trying to get a break from it."

That wasn't the answer Cassandra anticipated, but it certainly did make sense. She turned, looked at the door, and bit her lip. "I can't trust you."

"Look, can you at least lean against the door and tell me if you feel anything? Is that restrictive enough? I had to fight with you and then sleep in it, please."

After just another moment's consideration, Cassandra grabbed one of the chairs against the table and wedged it in under the door for a makeshift lock.

"Appreciate it, mate." Nijah slipped her cuffed hands upward and slid off the head covering, a head of sweaty black hair laid underneath. With a practiced hand that seemed unperturbed by her shackles, she slipped a few bobby pins out of place. The hair remained short, but puffed out just a bit when she shook her head.

"I've been wondering about that," Cassandra said. "You're all Catholics, right? Never known a Catholic to wear one of those. Except maybe nuns."

"It's not so uncommon, even for Christians, to wear head coverings in the Middle East and elsewhere," Nijah said. "But for me, I am celibate and sworn to the lord. That makes me a kind of nun, I suppose." She paused for a moment before she continued, "And my parents were Muslim, Mum started me wearing them when I was younger. I think it's just practical, no use giving men something to leer at."

Cassandra shrugged. "I've seen many kidnapping cases. Evil men will act whatever someone is wearing." She mentally picked what seemed like it would be a good spot and pulled up a chair across from the bed so she and Nijah could speak eye to eye. "But dress how you like."

Nijah scoffed. "I appreciate your permission." Despite the sarcasm, her half smile returned. "You said things worked out with the last person you set free. Did you redeem him?"

"I helped," Cassandra said. "He's a friend now."

"Is that why you're here and doing me little favors? Do you think you can redeem me as well?"

"I don't know." Cassandra shrugged. "I saw you and your people back in Gotham. You wanted to save people from that fire. Think what you're doing is bad. But maybe that you aren't." She needed a moment to remember her next question, and then she asked, "Your partner, the one who splits in the middle—"

"Benjie?"

"Yes, him. Is he all right?"

Nijah laughed. "Throwing him out of an emergency exit on a jet was certainly an intuitive solution. Yes, he's fine. Sure to take a scolding from the Eldest, but he's fine."

"Good," Cassandra nodded. "Good."

"I appreciate your asking. I'm sure he would too."

Cassandra lingered for a moment on what to say next. Eventually, it seemed like as good of a time as any. "I knew you wouldn't make that cut. Even still, thank you."

Nijah appeared to process those words for a moment. Her smile fell away, she looked on solemn. "I threaten to kill one of your loved ones, and even if I didn't go through with it, you're thanking me?"

"Reassured me who you are," Cassandra said. "You're willing to threaten, but you don't want to kill. Think Arlington back in Gotham was a mistake, maybe."

"We're in the business of saving souls. Arlington was not beyond redemption, that situation just got out of hand." Nijah looked down. "I was supposed to keep Gedeyon from losing his senses, we didn't want him killing any of you either. Grabbing the girl was desperation, I admit it, and it made me a little sick to do so." She blew a breath up at her face. "I could have lied about that just now, but what would that accomplish? You said it yourself; I didn't want to do kill anyone." Slowly, she cocked her head and looked Cassandra in the eyes again. As stoic as Cassandra tried to remain, Nijah said, "And I can see it in your eyes, too. That you don't want to kill… anymore. You have, haven't you?"

"… Could lie. But what would it accomplish?"

"I knew it. No one who just believes in like us, Angel." Nijah rose, walked to the bars of the cell, and curled her fingers around them. "We weren't raised like this from birth, we're converts. And we believe all the more fervently because of that. And let me guess—when you needed grace the most, someone saved you. They gave you a reason to believe."

Satisfied to be able to do so, Cassandra shook her head. "They showed me grace, but not faith. Learned faith from someone I was the one to save."

That stumped Nijah for a moment, but then she picked back up. "Even still."

"Know someone found you," Cassandra said. "His name is Kedar?"

Nijah flinched back from the bars, and her eyes widened. "How do you know about him?"

"Documented, stuff on record." Cassandra settled on that lie before she'd mentioned the name. "He is Eldest Nephilim?"

"Yes." After another brief stretch of quiet, Nijah pressed on. "How much do you know?"

"Lots." It seemed better than revealing ignorance.

"Then you should understand," Nijah said. "Kedar is God's most faithful servant, and he will be the Lord's will made manifest." Her words picked up tempo as she pressed on. "He is blessed, and he has turned our curses to blessings. He will save this wretched world for people like us."

With her face turned down into a frown, Cassandra asked, "What about the people not like us?"

"They'll learn, and he will be their teacher," Nijah said. "You said you don't want my world, but I know you do. There's no point in following a religion if you don't think it's the best one—you'd just convert to whatever you felt the best of them was. You're Catholic, and however much you insist on this twenty-first century outlook, you wish the rest of the world was Catholic too. You wish they could be the best of them, like you are."

Cassandra wasn't sure if she just heard an assessment or an accusation, but all she said in reply was, "No, I don't."

"You do," Nijah said. "Just like how you wish your lover was a man, so you could be unburdened by what your feelings force you through."

It was Cassandra's turn to look away in frustration. "I don't. I'm… I'm attracted to men too." That was half of a lie—she wasn't attracted to any men at that point, but that's because she hadn't felt intimately involved with anyone but Sadie. If she gave such a relationship time to mature, she was confident compatibility wouldn't be an issue.

Still, Nijah seized on the momentary hesitation. "Maybe you do. But you still wish your circumstance was different. That the world's circumstances were different." She leaned in until her lips slipped past the bars. "Kedar will make that world for you, even if you resist, even if you say you don't want it right now. He will free us from sin. He will lead us to heaven on earth."

The doorknob creaked and the chair squeaked just a little. From outside came a whispered hush of, "Angel, Angel! Carlos said somebody's coming. If you've locked the door you gotta hurry up."

"Was coming anyway." Cassandra turned her back on Nijah. The timing seemed right, because in her experience no one who ranted about sin and heaven on earth like that, be they over-zealous preachers, Christian terrorists, or someone like Nijah, should be listened to. She gave half a turn back to the woman and said, "Think you're better than this. You should leave."

"And I think you're better than this, Angel." Nijah spoke as she pinned back her hair and pulled her hijab back on. "You should join us."

[[Quick message from the author: Whew, doing the daily chapters like this has been a real rush. I have a good deal more material from the story already written, but much of that writing is kind of non-linear from here. So, I'll be taking a break (most certainly not another year long one) to get some more writing done and be back to you guys soon. Next week or so, I'm hoping.

Hope you've all been enjoying this latest attempt. And a slightly belated Happy Easter/Trans Day of Visibility to all]]