fic: between the shadow and the soul (1/?)
Title: Canticle of the Damned
Rating: Soft M for now, MA later on
Length: ~ 5000
Spoilers: None
Summary: AU based on the Gotham City Sirens title.
Author's note: This story will involve Glee characters and pairings but will rely heavily on the DCU Batman/Gotham universe. Specifically; I'm using the events and characterizations in Gotham City Sirens. Reading GCS is not necessary and I won’t follow that plot exactly, but it you are ever lost in the story, it might prove helpful. For those of you have actually read Gotham City Sirens or know things about the Batfamily, I apologize for the way I plan to take liberties with the chronology. I hope that doesn't ruin it for you.
It was raining again. Quinn hated the rain. Perhaps out in the country or in the untouched rainforests of South America rain was cleansing, refreshing even. But here in Gotham City, it was liquid filth; a combination of soot, pollution and acid rain that seemed to exist only to sink into her hair and skin and then slide nauseatingly under her collar and down her neck. Though the grime of a humid summer rainstorm was something she detested, Quinn quite enjoyed the way moisture made blows delivered by her bullwhip sting just a little bit more. As a well-placed strike drew a pained grunt from the man charging at her, Quinn smiled to herself. Yes, she enjoyed that quite a lot.
Catwoman was trouble. Trouble for the Gotham Police Department, certainly trouble for wealthy society matrons with hoards of expensive jewelry, and even trouble for the Batman himself. In all honesty, thwarting the Bat was one of the best parts of her job. Quinn didn't steal for the money, but for the challenge; the ability to do as she pleased, answering to no one while surrounding herself with pretty things. She also liked the thrill and the flash but she had to admit this wasn't really her style.
As far as Quinn was concerned, back-alley brawls had no style at all. She leapt from an overflowing dumpster to a rusty fire escape just in time to avoid getting crushed by an enormous metallic fist, acknowledging that it might behoove her to take this situation more seriously. And seriously, she had no clue who this guy was. He'd dropped in on the tail end of a job so easy a toddler could do it. Tonight was her first "working night" in a long while; she couldn't possibly have offended anyone that badly yet. With the way he was waving around those preposterous mechanized gloves, Quinn thought it best to get to higher ground before she started asking questions.
"Would you mind telling me what the hell your problem is?" Quinn tried to catch her breath as she eyed the hulk in front of her for weaknesses. Aside from his ridiculous outfit, she could find none. He was well over six feet of solid muscle and appeared to be normal if you didn't count the metal claws. At least he wasn't a metahuman. She made a mental note to stay out of arms reach though because meta or not, this guy was in the process of punching the brick wall beneath her to bits, gravely jeopardizing her perch on the fire escape ladder.
Mr. Hand peered up at her with a manic grin.
"You can call me the Boneblaster. See?" he said holding up his fist proudly before slamming it back into the wall with such force that Quinn felt her teeth rattle and the screws in the ladder shake a little bit loose. "I'm called the Boneblaster because I can use my handy gloves to turn you to mush."
Quinn rolled her eyes at the name but decided to remain silent. After all, a girl that called herself Catwoman really wasn't in a position to mock anyone else's chosen moniker. Instead she listened halfheartedly as Boneblaster continued to ramble on about himself.
"I know who you are, Catwoman, and I must say that I'm honored. Back in your day, you were a real role model for an aspiring supervillain. Before you went soft, that is. Still, knocking you off will still be a huge boost to my street cred." He appeared pensive for a moment. " I guess I could think of you as an appetizer to start my feast of glory. Next, I can take on the real big boys like the Penguin or the Joker or even the Bat himself.
Quinn had heard enough. Soft? She hadn't gone soft; she had nearly died. But she wasn't about to split hairs with some punk straight out of juvie. Like hell would she be any one's appetizer, let alone in relation to the Penguin. That fatty had been taken to Arkham more times than she had robbed the Gotham Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. And that was saying a lot. She launched herself at him, claws bared.
"Fuck." She was pretty sure she had just broken her hand.
He laughed at her. "Hard head right? That's what all my teachers said. Bet it's not as hard as my fist though."
His punch caught her square in the middle, cracking several of her ribs. Quinn nearly passed out from the pain. Circling her whip over her head she looped it around his thick neck and pulled.
He cackled again, "Try again, Pussycat." Reaching up, he grabbed the whip and yanked her off her feet and into the wall he'd just been pummeling. It appeared her initial assessment was correct. This guy had no physical weaknesses. But looking into his eyes as he approached, Quinn saw her advantage. He was strong sure, but he was cocky, inexperienced and far less intelligent than her. Gritting her teeth and ignoring the stabbing pain in her side, Quinn dived between his legs as he lunged for her. Before she could regain her footing, Boneblaster grabbed her by the throat. The pressure was at once unbearable and unfamiliar. Her confusion must have shown on her face.
"It's the sonic pulse in my gloves that does it, you know? Yeah, its grotesque, but the new boy in town has to be creative if he's going to build a rep." His grip tightened. Fine cracks started to spread across the tinted lenses of Quinn's goggles. She felt herself getting weaker as her vision blurred around the edges. There would only be one chance with this. Looking up at her captor, she smiled.
"What the hell are you laughing at, Pussycat. You'll be bone dust in a few seconds" Quinn's grin widened.
"Oh nothing. I'm just amused at how much of an amateur you are." Her audacity surprised him just enough for Quinn to reach behind her for the loose power cable hanging from the landing above. Boneblaster shook her like a rag doll until she bit her tongue and her head bounced against the unforgiving brick.
"If I'm so clueless, why are you the one gasping for breath?" Typical meathead, Quinn thought. A smart person would just punch her face in and be done with it. But ego was always the way to beat these guys. Or more specifically, to stall and distract them enough to put the diamond tipped claws in her gloves to good use.
"Well, your gimmick is good, I'll give you that," she rasped out. "But for all your muscle, you don't have much control over your toys. I'll bet you stole these gloves and didn't even take the time to get them insulated." Quinn chuckled as understanding spread over his face. "Yes, insulation is crucial. That's why I make sure to take very good care of my gloves and boots. "
Before he could react, Quinn took the cable she'd unraveled and created a circuit using the metal gloves. The electricity flowed up his arms and into the rest of his body and the mighty Boneblaster let out a decidedly un-masculine scream. He crumpled to the ground, still twitching. His fried gloves sputtered and smoked.
"That seemed painful," Quinn murmured. She used a combination of utility rope and the duct tape she always carried with her to tie him to an iron pipe along the side of the building. She was grateful that he remained unconscious so she could secure him and leave him for Gotham PD. Under the muscle and bravado, it was clear that he was just a kid. She would have hated to seriously hurt him. He was lucky he'd picked her to cut his teeth on. No other "villain" in Gotham had any such aversion to maiming or killing.
But Quinn had had her share of violence. That was in the past.
She gingerly leaped up to the roof, keeping an eye on the huddled mass hog-tied in the alley. As the adrenaline faded, uncertainty moved in.
"My accident was months ago. I've been treated by the best doctors in the galaxy. How did a steroid junkie with sonic oven mitts almost take me down?"
Quinn knew that only her quick wits had saved her. She'd been moving slower than usual and her endurance levels were pitiful. Worse, she was tentative. One thing you couldn't say about Catwoman, or about Quinn Fabray for that matter, was that she was timid. The entire purpose of this outing was to prove that nothing was wrong but now she had more doubts than before. Something was definitely off and if she didn't fix it, Catwoman would exhaust her eight remaining lives far faster than planned.
Quinn sighed. That was a worry for tomorrow. Right now she had a mess to clean up. She dialed the number of her favorite Gotham detective. When she heard the greeting on the other end, she spoke into the phone.
"I got you a present."
"I got you a present"
Alone in the GPD precinct office, the man laughed. Despite the heavy encryption on the call, he would recognize that voice anywhere.
"Oh yeah", the he chuckled into the phone, "Where?" He could tell that Catwoman was smiling.
"Hmm. Just a few blocks over from that spot where you tried and failed to arrest me. The first time."
"I'm glad you remember your first time with Puckzilla." Puck grinned at Catwoman's exasperated sigh. "What?, did your party get too crowded tonight or did you just want to see my face?"
After taking down the details, Puck set down the receiver and stood to stretch his sore muscles. Not that he regretted it, but he'd expected the job of Gotham City Police Commissioner to be more cushy and glamorous. Instead, he worked more hours than when he'd been a junior detective. Still, duty called and though he'd rather be at home sleeping or better yet sleeping with an attractive woman, his responsibility to Gotham came first.
He sat back down, rifling though his open case files and muttering to himself. "Back to work, Puck. Crime never sleeps." Reclining back, he'd just begun looking over the witness statements from a particularly gruesome double homicide when he heard the voice behind him.
"And apparently, neither do you,"
Puck whipped around so quickly he nearly spilled his long cold coffee onto a stack of crime scene photos. The man in his office was tall and imposing. Covered in a dark cape, he seemed to blend in with the shadows. His eyes burned with an intensity that made most criminals flee in terror. If it weren't for the fact that he'd known this man since college, Puck might actually have been wary. Wary, not afraid. Noah Puckerman wasn't scared of anything. Except maybe the woman who'd just called him.
"Batman, how's it hanging. What brings you lurking around my turf tonight?" Puck always enjoyed being extremely impertinent with the Bat. For one, it was endlessly amusing how he scared everyone else shitless. Puck felt it his solemn duty to take the piss out of him every once in a while. Second, he knew the man underneath the cowl. Cover persona or not, anyone who had seen Finn Hudson drunkenly hitting on his own portly housekeeper would find it next to impossible to summon the appropriate level of reverence.
"I got word of a disturbance tonight in the Park District and wanted to know why Gotham PD wasn't on the scene."
Puck bristled. "My boys can't be everywhere at once. The majority of all available detectives are trying to ensure that the Joker actually remains in Arkham this time." He looked out over the city, still brightly lit despite the late hour. "The patrolmen who aren't still in the hospital are busy maintaining order and helping with the reconstruction. Now that the National Guard has left, we're stretched pretty thin."
He stepped closer to the Batman, challenging. "And if your intelligence is so good and you clearly have time time visit me, why weren't you there, huh? Since when does Catwoman have to do both our jobs?"
Batman's jaw clenched. Puck thought he looked like he might kick something. Namely Puck. His voice was tight when he finally spoke, "There is something brewing and the Justice League has called us to Metropolis. I need to know that you can handle the city while I'm gone. I need -"
"Us?" Puck sneered, "The Justice League is going to let you bring a minor to the clubhouse now? Is Rory even old enough to drink? Or drive?"
Batman continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I need to know that you can take care of Gotham without involving criminals, Commissioner Puckerman"
Puck knew where this was going. He tried to deflect. "I've told you dozens of times to call me Puck"
"And I've told you dozens of times to keep Catwoman out of police business!" This was the most substantial reaction Puck had seen from his friend in a while. Batman's voice had risen as he'd leaned over the desk. As if looming menacingly would drive his point home. Puck was done with this.
"Look man, I get that we are on the same team and all, but I don't work for you. I work for the people of Gotham. After all this city has been through lately, they just want to be safe." Looking over his notes from Catwoman's call, he reasoned that she was kind of like a confidential informant. Only better since every once in a while she kicked some serious ass. "We both know she was never evil. Not in the way you mean. I trust her."
Batman's hand flew out, gripping Puck by the collar and pulling him close. "You shouldn't; she's a thief and a murderer."
"She's kept your secret all these years" Puck smirked. He had the Bat there. Catwoman knew exactly who the Batman was, knew exactly who Finn Hudson was. Even more, she knew why. That was information even Puck wasn't privy to.
Batman refused to be swayed. "That's because I have something she wants." He let go of Puck's shirt. "You can't trust her any more that you can trust a feral alley cat in search of its next meal"
Puck straightened his tie, recognizing a lost cause. No one could out-stubborn the Batman. And yet, "I need her. We are undermanned and with you and Rory gone - "
"Fine. but if this is to happen, it will be on my terms."
Puck pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for his reserve of diplomacy. When he opened his eyes, he was once again alone in his office.
"Well, shit..."
Many things came naturally to Santana Lopez; looking hot, gardening, pretty much any science, masterful plotting, etc. Right now, she lazed in the afternoon sun reflecting on how effortlessly she could kill the Joker. Sure, a toxic kiss required the least effort, but she'd take a weedwacker to herself before she kissed that freak. Poison darts worked too quickly. She really wanted him to suffer. It probably reflected poorly on her humanity that she often planned ways to kill a paraplegic. Oh well. She rolled over fell into a glorious daydream featuring a giant Venus flytrap digesting a wheelchair when a shadow appeared above her, blocking out the sun.
Since only one person could enter her private refuge without foaming at the mouth and dropping dead, she wasn't surprised when something warm and soft dropped on top of her. Brittany leaned over to rest her chin on Santana's shoulder.
She rolled over and squinted up at her best friend. "Hey!" The skin on Brittany's forehead and cheeks flushed a bright red. "You got sunburned"
Brittany stretched out on the hammock with her, swinging it with one foot on the ground. "Nah, I'm just rusty at photosynthesis. We can't all be gifted like you," she teased. She leaned closer noting the crease between Santana's brows, "You're angry."
Santana looked away. It was impossible to lie to Brittany if she looked her in the eye. "No, I'm not"
"But you were. Are you mad at me?" The way the smile melted from Brittany's face made Santana feel like she'd just kicked a puppy. She wasn't mad at Brittany and told her so. It was impossible to stay upset with Brittany for any meaningful period of time. Santana was just frustrated.
"Because of Artie?" Brittany ventured, shifting to the edge of the hammock and sitting up.
Santana recoiled at the sound of his name. She much preferred using him or it. Actually, she preferred not discussing him at all unless it was to plan dipping him into a boiling vat of her fabulous toxins. "Yes" she said. "Why wont you let me kill him?" She knew the answer to that question.
"Because I love him, Santana."
Santana took in Brittany's crossed arms and the way she'd squared her jaw. Still, she tried reason. "Britt, he tried to kill you. Again!" You might persuade Santana to write attempted murder off as love play. No pain, no gain right? But, the Joker was also an awful boyfriend. He manipulated Brittany and made her feel like shit. Their relationship was beyond unhealthy. That argument wouldn't make any traction, though. The last time she'd tried that angle, Brittany refused to speak to her for a week.
As she'd said to Santana many times, When you love someone, you don't give up on them. In her mind, that was that. Brittany opened her mouth, probably to list the many examples illustrating Artie's love for her. Santana got up and stalked away into the trees.
When you love someone, you don't give up on them.
Ridiculous. That kind of love was a sickness. It made women weak. It made a certified psychologist fall irrevocably in love with a homicidal manic. It turned a highly intelligent and educated woman into a puppet. Santana had seen that movie. Being in love with a man is what had left her more plant than human. Well desiring to be in love with a man, anyway.
Santana wasn't blind. She saw the parallels between her lamentable affair with the professor who had used her body as a Petri dish and Brittany's tragic relationship. She knew why it bothered her so much when Brittany went back to him. But she also recognized that Brittany's motivations weren't the desperation of a self-hating closet lesbian. No, her feelings were real.
In retrospect, she hadn't loved Dr. Woodrue. She'd just been so eager to please, to be normal, to fit. Actual feeling was probably worse. She looked back in Brittany's direction. Much worse.
Once, Santana had saved Brittany from one of Stubbles' more brutal attacks. Brittany's body had healed rapidly with the use of her unique hybrid creations. She'd woken stronger and more agile than before with a bonus of immunity to most poisons. If only Santana could cure her mind and set it free from the Joker's sick games.
She turned to go make up with Brittany. It would be simple. Brittany rarely stayed angry long. She was simple. Like a sunflower, all she needed was warmth and love.
If only she were actually a flower. Then, Santana could protect her.
On her way back, Santana felt a disturbance in the soil. She cocked her head listening. This wasn't a disturbance; this was a message.
It was unsurprising to see the dozen or so police officers daring to ruin the paradise she'd created. Their heavy boots trampled her flowers as the machetes they carried hacked at low hanging branches. Men. Really, destruction was all they were good for. That and body odor. A few of the more adventuresome policemen were dropped with nonlethal darts while the roots of the mutilated trees to restrained the rest.
"Is there a problem, Officer?"
Detective Sam Evans gaped. Poison Ivy's clothes, if you could all them that, left nothing to the imagination. He tried to keep his eyes on hers and his tongue in his mouth. Rumor had it she would kill a man just for having a Y-chromosome. He'd rather not give her an actual reason.
"Ivy", he said, "I thought that would get your attention." He pulled a document from his jacket pocket. "As per the ruling of the City Council, Gotham City PD has authorized me to reclaim the 30 block area known as Robinson Park. As reconstruction efforts continue, we aim to restore law and order in all public areas"
Sam rubbed the back of his neck as he refolded the paper. This wasn't going to go well. Ever since a superpowered earthquake destroyed much of Gotham, the city's criminals, human and metahuman alike, roved the streets in a relative free for all. The city's main park garnered little attention in the midst of chronic shootouts, turf wars and prison breakouts. Poison Ivy had shocked everyone by creating an oasis in the midst of the surrounding destruction. She had even used her crazy miracle-gro powers to feed many of Gotham's poor when emergency supplies ran out. Of all the persisting problems in the city, recovering the park was a low priority at best. He personally felt that the City Council just wanted to prove it still controlled things. But orders were orders.
He spread his hands in an attempt to placate her. "You understand, right?"
"Ha," she scoffed. "Law and order? There hasn't been a robbery, rape, or violent crime in this park for the last six months? If anything, we're all in danger of being sucked into that enormous black hole on your face. Don't pretend this is about civic safety, Trouty Mouth."
"Those officers don't look all that safe right now, ma'am." Sam retorted, motioning behind her. Santana shot an apathetic glance at the men struggling for air. Safety was relative. "And besides, this doesn't come from me. I've got bigger problems than pulling weeds, but the Batman insists."
Santana eyes narrowed dangerously. "You still take your orders from that overgrown rodent? Where is the Great White Dope of Gotham, anyway? Stuck down in his caves waiting for his minions to bring the Jaws of Life and pry him out?"
"That's funny, but I'm afraid you're still going to have to surrender the park," Sam said, folding his arms across his chest to hide the way his hands shook.
She arched her brow as if to ask, How will you make me? Her confidence faded when Sam pointed to several large industrial trucks. They contained a pesticide strong enough to kill every plant, shrub and weed in the park. Including her.
She looked back at the park that had become her home. She thought of her babies and of Brittany still in there somewhere.
Check.
Quinn slipped through the shattered skylight of the abandoned Gotham Arboretum. Dead branches and leaves crunched under her boots as she dropped to the floor. She looked around, crinkling her nose at the smell of dust and decay. It looked like no one had been home for a while. She pushed down the restless feeling in her stomach. It couldn't possibly be disappointment. No, she was just annoyed that she'd reached another dead end.
Soft laughter echoed behind her just before something wrapped around her ankles and yanked her feet from under her. Rolling over, she clawed her way free. The scraps in her hands weren't made of rope or leather. Her hand was tangled in vines.
"I'd watch out for the thorns, Quinn. They're poisonous."
She looked up into familiar blue eyes and a wide smile as Brittany stepped from the shadows. Quinn moved forward to embrace her when a voice stopped her.
"Well, look who's still alive and scratching. We were afraid your curiosity had finally gotten the best of you." Santana's dark eyes seemed to glitter with amusement at her own joke before they hardened. "While I love a melodramatic reunion as much as the next girl, I think you should fill us in on why you're lurking about uninvited"
"I saw you on the news" she said moving closer. Santana turned to keep Quinn in sight as she walked around the room.
"Spit it out Fabray. You know I hate when you do that prowling shit."
Quinn grinned, knowing the moonlight cast an eerie shadow over her face. "I've been looking for you since your eviction from Robinson Park. How did they get you to leave so submissively" Quinn wondered whether submissive accurately described a half a dozen hospitalized police officers. Then again, none of them died. A few light maimings was pretty tame for Santana.
"They made me an offer I couldn't refuse. But why, Quinn, are you here?" The vine remnants in Quinn's hand began to quiver, a sure sign of Santana's waning patience. It wouldn't serve her purpose to overly antagonize Santana right now.
"I've got a proposition for you."
"Finally!" Brittany cheered, pumping her fist. She looked over at Santana, smug. "I told you she-"
Santana cut her off more sharply than necessary, looking slightly flustered. "We're listening."
Brittany reached up to switch on a dim light bulb while Santana leaned against the to wall.
"You know, the three of us have been living on the edge way too long. When we're not running from the police we're fending off some costumed whack job. "
Brittany nodded, "Yeah, some guy dressed as Santa Claus tried to kidnap me last week." Santana grudgingly recalled her frequent clashes with GCPD over the past few years.
"Gotham is worse than ever for girls like us. That gives us a choice -we can get out, or band together."
She felt those dark eyes on her, searching. Quinn resisted the urge to squirm. "You've always been the cat who walked by herself. Why the sudden change?" Santana asked. Her eyebrows rose as if she'd just solved a complex puzzle. "Is it because of the rumors of a new Batman in town. One you aren't sleeping with?" She made a victorious little sound in her throat, slinking towards Quinn, bringing a cloud of floral perfume with her. "I bet its true. Though if it is, I question your judgment. The new Bat is highly disappointing. It's like he dropped a few IQ points and gained several pounds. Still, he's probably right up your alley."
Brittany looked up from where she sat on the windowsill. "Gross."
"I'm sure you have no idea what you're talking about, Santana. Stop being a bitch and give me an answer."
"Retract your claws, kitty. Or I might reject your offer." she looked to her friend. "Britt, a word?"
They withdrew to a dark corner, heads together in a smattering of hushed whispers. Santana made sure to summon vines around them so Quinn couldn't read their lips.
"What do you think?" Brittany asked.
Santana peeked though an opening in the vines to eye the way Quinn stood tapping her foot with thinly veiled irritation. "She's a good ally, if we can trust her. But I'm more concerned with why we haven't seen her in months."
Brittany shrugged, "Maybe she hibernates. Look San, I know you don't trust her, but if she can keep GCPD and those Bats off our backs, it might be worth it."
The cocoon parted. "Fine, we're in. but how exactly is this going to work"
"Quinn should stay here." Brittany seemed to not notice the way Santana's face twisted as if the idea physically pained her. She looked instead to Quinn. "We haven't seen you in ages. You have to stay."
It was pretty much settled after that. Quinn couldn't reject such an earnest appeal and she knew from experience that Santana rarely won an argument with Brittany. This time, she didn't even try.
Brittany beamed at them both. She tugged Quinn into a bone-crushing hug, turning to Santana saying, "Try not to kill her, though. I think Lord Tubbington would like having another cat in the house again."
"You killed her cat?" Quinn asked.
Santana shrugged and said. "She ate one of my plants. She died. At least the fat one knows not to eat everything in sight. Its ironic, really."
She stepped intimately close with a challenging glint in her eyes that set Quinn's teeth on edge. Strong arms slid across her shoulders and gently reeled her in until she felt silky hair brush along her jaw. Quinn froze when soft lips grazed her ear before releasing a puff of hot air against her neck. Santana squeezed her tightly and whispered, "Welcome to the jungle, kitten." Quinn tried to focus on returning the embrace and not the way that smoky rasp sent chills down her spine.
Rating: Soft M for now, MA later on
Length: ~ 5000
Spoilers: None
Summary: AU based on the Gotham City Sirens title.
Author's note: This story will involve Glee characters and pairings but will rely heavily on the DCU Batman/Gotham universe. Specifically; I'm using the events and characterizations in Gotham City Sirens. Reading GCS is not necessary and I won’t follow that plot exactly, but it you are ever lost in the story, it might prove helpful. For those of you have actually read Gotham City Sirens or know things about the Batfamily, I apologize for the way I plan to take liberties with the chronology. I hope that doesn't ruin it for you.
It was raining again. Quinn hated the rain. Perhaps out in the country or in the untouched rainforests of South America rain was cleansing, refreshing even. But here in Gotham City, it was liquid filth; a combination of soot, pollution and acid rain that seemed to exist only to sink into her hair and skin and then slide nauseatingly under her collar and down her neck. Though the grime of a humid summer rainstorm was something she detested, Quinn quite enjoyed the way moisture made blows delivered by her bullwhip sting just a little bit more. As a well-placed strike drew a pained grunt from the man charging at her, Quinn smiled to herself. Yes, she enjoyed that quite a lot.
Catwoman was trouble. Trouble for the Gotham Police Department, certainly trouble for wealthy society matrons with hoards of expensive jewelry, and even trouble for the Batman himself. In all honesty, thwarting the Bat was one of the best parts of her job. Quinn didn't steal for the money, but for the challenge; the ability to do as she pleased, answering to no one while surrounding herself with pretty things. She also liked the thrill and the flash but she had to admit this wasn't really her style.
As far as Quinn was concerned, back-alley brawls had no style at all. She leapt from an overflowing dumpster to a rusty fire escape just in time to avoid getting crushed by an enormous metallic fist, acknowledging that it might behoove her to take this situation more seriously. And seriously, she had no clue who this guy was. He'd dropped in on the tail end of a job so easy a toddler could do it. Tonight was her first "working night" in a long while; she couldn't possibly have offended anyone that badly yet. With the way he was waving around those preposterous mechanized gloves, Quinn thought it best to get to higher ground before she started asking questions.
"Would you mind telling me what the hell your problem is?" Quinn tried to catch her breath as she eyed the hulk in front of her for weaknesses. Aside from his ridiculous outfit, she could find none. He was well over six feet of solid muscle and appeared to be normal if you didn't count the metal claws. At least he wasn't a metahuman. She made a mental note to stay out of arms reach though because meta or not, this guy was in the process of punching the brick wall beneath her to bits, gravely jeopardizing her perch on the fire escape ladder.
Mr. Hand peered up at her with a manic grin.
"You can call me the Boneblaster. See?" he said holding up his fist proudly before slamming it back into the wall with such force that Quinn felt her teeth rattle and the screws in the ladder shake a little bit loose. "I'm called the Boneblaster because I can use my handy gloves to turn you to mush."
Quinn rolled her eyes at the name but decided to remain silent. After all, a girl that called herself Catwoman really wasn't in a position to mock anyone else's chosen moniker. Instead she listened halfheartedly as Boneblaster continued to ramble on about himself.
"I know who you are, Catwoman, and I must say that I'm honored. Back in your day, you were a real role model for an aspiring supervillain. Before you went soft, that is. Still, knocking you off will still be a huge boost to my street cred." He appeared pensive for a moment. " I guess I could think of you as an appetizer to start my feast of glory. Next, I can take on the real big boys like the Penguin or the Joker or even the Bat himself.
Quinn had heard enough. Soft? She hadn't gone soft; she had nearly died. But she wasn't about to split hairs with some punk straight out of juvie. Like hell would she be any one's appetizer, let alone in relation to the Penguin. That fatty had been taken to Arkham more times than she had robbed the Gotham Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. And that was saying a lot. She launched herself at him, claws bared.
"Fuck." She was pretty sure she had just broken her hand.
He laughed at her. "Hard head right? That's what all my teachers said. Bet it's not as hard as my fist though."
His punch caught her square in the middle, cracking several of her ribs. Quinn nearly passed out from the pain. Circling her whip over her head she looped it around his thick neck and pulled.
He cackled again, "Try again, Pussycat." Reaching up, he grabbed the whip and yanked her off her feet and into the wall he'd just been pummeling. It appeared her initial assessment was correct. This guy had no physical weaknesses. But looking into his eyes as he approached, Quinn saw her advantage. He was strong sure, but he was cocky, inexperienced and far less intelligent than her. Gritting her teeth and ignoring the stabbing pain in her side, Quinn dived between his legs as he lunged for her. Before she could regain her footing, Boneblaster grabbed her by the throat. The pressure was at once unbearable and unfamiliar. Her confusion must have shown on her face.
"It's the sonic pulse in my gloves that does it, you know? Yeah, its grotesque, but the new boy in town has to be creative if he's going to build a rep." His grip tightened. Fine cracks started to spread across the tinted lenses of Quinn's goggles. She felt herself getting weaker as her vision blurred around the edges. There would only be one chance with this. Looking up at her captor, she smiled.
"What the hell are you laughing at, Pussycat. You'll be bone dust in a few seconds" Quinn's grin widened.
"Oh nothing. I'm just amused at how much of an amateur you are." Her audacity surprised him just enough for Quinn to reach behind her for the loose power cable hanging from the landing above. Boneblaster shook her like a rag doll until she bit her tongue and her head bounced against the unforgiving brick.
"If I'm so clueless, why are you the one gasping for breath?" Typical meathead, Quinn thought. A smart person would just punch her face in and be done with it. But ego was always the way to beat these guys. Or more specifically, to stall and distract them enough to put the diamond tipped claws in her gloves to good use.
"Well, your gimmick is good, I'll give you that," she rasped out. "But for all your muscle, you don't have much control over your toys. I'll bet you stole these gloves and didn't even take the time to get them insulated." Quinn chuckled as understanding spread over his face. "Yes, insulation is crucial. That's why I make sure to take very good care of my gloves and boots. "
Before he could react, Quinn took the cable she'd unraveled and created a circuit using the metal gloves. The electricity flowed up his arms and into the rest of his body and the mighty Boneblaster let out a decidedly un-masculine scream. He crumpled to the ground, still twitching. His fried gloves sputtered and smoked.
"That seemed painful," Quinn murmured. She used a combination of utility rope and the duct tape she always carried with her to tie him to an iron pipe along the side of the building. She was grateful that he remained unconscious so she could secure him and leave him for Gotham PD. Under the muscle and bravado, it was clear that he was just a kid. She would have hated to seriously hurt him. He was lucky he'd picked her to cut his teeth on. No other "villain" in Gotham had any such aversion to maiming or killing.
But Quinn had had her share of violence. That was in the past.
She gingerly leaped up to the roof, keeping an eye on the huddled mass hog-tied in the alley. As the adrenaline faded, uncertainty moved in.
"My accident was months ago. I've been treated by the best doctors in the galaxy. How did a steroid junkie with sonic oven mitts almost take me down?"
Quinn knew that only her quick wits had saved her. She'd been moving slower than usual and her endurance levels were pitiful. Worse, she was tentative. One thing you couldn't say about Catwoman, or about Quinn Fabray for that matter, was that she was timid. The entire purpose of this outing was to prove that nothing was wrong but now she had more doubts than before. Something was definitely off and if she didn't fix it, Catwoman would exhaust her eight remaining lives far faster than planned.
Quinn sighed. That was a worry for tomorrow. Right now she had a mess to clean up. She dialed the number of her favorite Gotham detective. When she heard the greeting on the other end, she spoke into the phone.
"I got you a present."
"I got you a present"
Alone in the GPD precinct office, the man laughed. Despite the heavy encryption on the call, he would recognize that voice anywhere.
"Oh yeah", the he chuckled into the phone, "Where?" He could tell that Catwoman was smiling.
"Hmm. Just a few blocks over from that spot where you tried and failed to arrest me. The first time."
"I'm glad you remember your first time with Puckzilla." Puck grinned at Catwoman's exasperated sigh. "What?, did your party get too crowded tonight or did you just want to see my face?"
After taking down the details, Puck set down the receiver and stood to stretch his sore muscles. Not that he regretted it, but he'd expected the job of Gotham City Police Commissioner to be more cushy and glamorous. Instead, he worked more hours than when he'd been a junior detective. Still, duty called and though he'd rather be at home sleeping or better yet sleeping with an attractive woman, his responsibility to Gotham came first.
He sat back down, rifling though his open case files and muttering to himself. "Back to work, Puck. Crime never sleeps." Reclining back, he'd just begun looking over the witness statements from a particularly gruesome double homicide when he heard the voice behind him.
"And apparently, neither do you,"
Puck whipped around so quickly he nearly spilled his long cold coffee onto a stack of crime scene photos. The man in his office was tall and imposing. Covered in a dark cape, he seemed to blend in with the shadows. His eyes burned with an intensity that made most criminals flee in terror. If it weren't for the fact that he'd known this man since college, Puck might actually have been wary. Wary, not afraid. Noah Puckerman wasn't scared of anything. Except maybe the woman who'd just called him.
"Batman, how's it hanging. What brings you lurking around my turf tonight?" Puck always enjoyed being extremely impertinent with the Bat. For one, it was endlessly amusing how he scared everyone else shitless. Puck felt it his solemn duty to take the piss out of him every once in a while. Second, he knew the man underneath the cowl. Cover persona or not, anyone who had seen Finn Hudson drunkenly hitting on his own portly housekeeper would find it next to impossible to summon the appropriate level of reverence.
"I got word of a disturbance tonight in the Park District and wanted to know why Gotham PD wasn't on the scene."
Puck bristled. "My boys can't be everywhere at once. The majority of all available detectives are trying to ensure that the Joker actually remains in Arkham this time." He looked out over the city, still brightly lit despite the late hour. "The patrolmen who aren't still in the hospital are busy maintaining order and helping with the reconstruction. Now that the National Guard has left, we're stretched pretty thin."
He stepped closer to the Batman, challenging. "And if your intelligence is so good and you clearly have time time visit me, why weren't you there, huh? Since when does Catwoman have to do both our jobs?"
Batman's jaw clenched. Puck thought he looked like he might kick something. Namely Puck. His voice was tight when he finally spoke, "There is something brewing and the Justice League has called us to Metropolis. I need to know that you can handle the city while I'm gone. I need -"
"Us?" Puck sneered, "The Justice League is going to let you bring a minor to the clubhouse now? Is Rory even old enough to drink? Or drive?"
Batman continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I need to know that you can take care of Gotham without involving criminals, Commissioner Puckerman"
Puck knew where this was going. He tried to deflect. "I've told you dozens of times to call me Puck"
"And I've told you dozens of times to keep Catwoman out of police business!" This was the most substantial reaction Puck had seen from his friend in a while. Batman's voice had risen as he'd leaned over the desk. As if looming menacingly would drive his point home. Puck was done with this.
"Look man, I get that we are on the same team and all, but I don't work for you. I work for the people of Gotham. After all this city has been through lately, they just want to be safe." Looking over his notes from Catwoman's call, he reasoned that she was kind of like a confidential informant. Only better since every once in a while she kicked some serious ass. "We both know she was never evil. Not in the way you mean. I trust her."
Batman's hand flew out, gripping Puck by the collar and pulling him close. "You shouldn't; she's a thief and a murderer."
"She's kept your secret all these years" Puck smirked. He had the Bat there. Catwoman knew exactly who the Batman was, knew exactly who Finn Hudson was. Even more, she knew why. That was information even Puck wasn't privy to.
Batman refused to be swayed. "That's because I have something she wants." He let go of Puck's shirt. "You can't trust her any more that you can trust a feral alley cat in search of its next meal"
Puck straightened his tie, recognizing a lost cause. No one could out-stubborn the Batman. And yet, "I need her. We are undermanned and with you and Rory gone - "
"Fine. but if this is to happen, it will be on my terms."
Puck pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for his reserve of diplomacy. When he opened his eyes, he was once again alone in his office.
"Well, shit..."
Many things came naturally to Santana Lopez; looking hot, gardening, pretty much any science, masterful plotting, etc. Right now, she lazed in the afternoon sun reflecting on how effortlessly she could kill the Joker. Sure, a toxic kiss required the least effort, but she'd take a weedwacker to herself before she kissed that freak. Poison darts worked too quickly. She really wanted him to suffer. It probably reflected poorly on her humanity that she often planned ways to kill a paraplegic. Oh well. She rolled over fell into a glorious daydream featuring a giant Venus flytrap digesting a wheelchair when a shadow appeared above her, blocking out the sun.
Since only one person could enter her private refuge without foaming at the mouth and dropping dead, she wasn't surprised when something warm and soft dropped on top of her. Brittany leaned over to rest her chin on Santana's shoulder.
She rolled over and squinted up at her best friend. "Hey!" The skin on Brittany's forehead and cheeks flushed a bright red. "You got sunburned"
Brittany stretched out on the hammock with her, swinging it with one foot on the ground. "Nah, I'm just rusty at photosynthesis. We can't all be gifted like you," she teased. She leaned closer noting the crease between Santana's brows, "You're angry."
Santana looked away. It was impossible to lie to Brittany if she looked her in the eye. "No, I'm not"
"But you were. Are you mad at me?" The way the smile melted from Brittany's face made Santana feel like she'd just kicked a puppy. She wasn't mad at Brittany and told her so. It was impossible to stay upset with Brittany for any meaningful period of time. Santana was just frustrated.
"Because of Artie?" Brittany ventured, shifting to the edge of the hammock and sitting up.
Santana recoiled at the sound of his name. She much preferred using him or it. Actually, she preferred not discussing him at all unless it was to plan dipping him into a boiling vat of her fabulous toxins. "Yes" she said. "Why wont you let me kill him?" She knew the answer to that question.
"Because I love him, Santana."
Santana took in Brittany's crossed arms and the way she'd squared her jaw. Still, she tried reason. "Britt, he tried to kill you. Again!" You might persuade Santana to write attempted murder off as love play. No pain, no gain right? But, the Joker was also an awful boyfriend. He manipulated Brittany and made her feel like shit. Their relationship was beyond unhealthy. That argument wouldn't make any traction, though. The last time she'd tried that angle, Brittany refused to speak to her for a week.
As she'd said to Santana many times, When you love someone, you don't give up on them. In her mind, that was that. Brittany opened her mouth, probably to list the many examples illustrating Artie's love for her. Santana got up and stalked away into the trees.
When you love someone, you don't give up on them.
Ridiculous. That kind of love was a sickness. It made women weak. It made a certified psychologist fall irrevocably in love with a homicidal manic. It turned a highly intelligent and educated woman into a puppet. Santana had seen that movie. Being in love with a man is what had left her more plant than human. Well desiring to be in love with a man, anyway.
Santana wasn't blind. She saw the parallels between her lamentable affair with the professor who had used her body as a Petri dish and Brittany's tragic relationship. She knew why it bothered her so much when Brittany went back to him. But she also recognized that Brittany's motivations weren't the desperation of a self-hating closet lesbian. No, her feelings were real.
In retrospect, she hadn't loved Dr. Woodrue. She'd just been so eager to please, to be normal, to fit. Actual feeling was probably worse. She looked back in Brittany's direction. Much worse.
Once, Santana had saved Brittany from one of Stubbles' more brutal attacks. Brittany's body had healed rapidly with the use of her unique hybrid creations. She'd woken stronger and more agile than before with a bonus of immunity to most poisons. If only Santana could cure her mind and set it free from the Joker's sick games.
She turned to go make up with Brittany. It would be simple. Brittany rarely stayed angry long. She was simple. Like a sunflower, all she needed was warmth and love.
If only she were actually a flower. Then, Santana could protect her.
On her way back, Santana felt a disturbance in the soil. She cocked her head listening. This wasn't a disturbance; this was a message.
It was unsurprising to see the dozen or so police officers daring to ruin the paradise she'd created. Their heavy boots trampled her flowers as the machetes they carried hacked at low hanging branches. Men. Really, destruction was all they were good for. That and body odor. A few of the more adventuresome policemen were dropped with nonlethal darts while the roots of the mutilated trees to restrained the rest.
"Is there a problem, Officer?"
Detective Sam Evans gaped. Poison Ivy's clothes, if you could all them that, left nothing to the imagination. He tried to keep his eyes on hers and his tongue in his mouth. Rumor had it she would kill a man just for having a Y-chromosome. He'd rather not give her an actual reason.
"Ivy", he said, "I thought that would get your attention." He pulled a document from his jacket pocket. "As per the ruling of the City Council, Gotham City PD has authorized me to reclaim the 30 block area known as Robinson Park. As reconstruction efforts continue, we aim to restore law and order in all public areas"
Sam rubbed the back of his neck as he refolded the paper. This wasn't going to go well. Ever since a superpowered earthquake destroyed much of Gotham, the city's criminals, human and metahuman alike, roved the streets in a relative free for all. The city's main park garnered little attention in the midst of chronic shootouts, turf wars and prison breakouts. Poison Ivy had shocked everyone by creating an oasis in the midst of the surrounding destruction. She had even used her crazy miracle-gro powers to feed many of Gotham's poor when emergency supplies ran out. Of all the persisting problems in the city, recovering the park was a low priority at best. He personally felt that the City Council just wanted to prove it still controlled things. But orders were orders.
He spread his hands in an attempt to placate her. "You understand, right?"
"Ha," she scoffed. "Law and order? There hasn't been a robbery, rape, or violent crime in this park for the last six months? If anything, we're all in danger of being sucked into that enormous black hole on your face. Don't pretend this is about civic safety, Trouty Mouth."
"Those officers don't look all that safe right now, ma'am." Sam retorted, motioning behind her. Santana shot an apathetic glance at the men struggling for air. Safety was relative. "And besides, this doesn't come from me. I've got bigger problems than pulling weeds, but the Batman insists."
Santana eyes narrowed dangerously. "You still take your orders from that overgrown rodent? Where is the Great White Dope of Gotham, anyway? Stuck down in his caves waiting for his minions to bring the Jaws of Life and pry him out?"
"That's funny, but I'm afraid you're still going to have to surrender the park," Sam said, folding his arms across his chest to hide the way his hands shook.
She arched her brow as if to ask, How will you make me? Her confidence faded when Sam pointed to several large industrial trucks. They contained a pesticide strong enough to kill every plant, shrub and weed in the park. Including her.
She looked back at the park that had become her home. She thought of her babies and of Brittany still in there somewhere.
Check.
Quinn slipped through the shattered skylight of the abandoned Gotham Arboretum. Dead branches and leaves crunched under her boots as she dropped to the floor. She looked around, crinkling her nose at the smell of dust and decay. It looked like no one had been home for a while. She pushed down the restless feeling in her stomach. It couldn't possibly be disappointment. No, she was just annoyed that she'd reached another dead end.
Soft laughter echoed behind her just before something wrapped around her ankles and yanked her feet from under her. Rolling over, she clawed her way free. The scraps in her hands weren't made of rope or leather. Her hand was tangled in vines.
"I'd watch out for the thorns, Quinn. They're poisonous."
She looked up into familiar blue eyes and a wide smile as Brittany stepped from the shadows. Quinn moved forward to embrace her when a voice stopped her.
"Well, look who's still alive and scratching. We were afraid your curiosity had finally gotten the best of you." Santana's dark eyes seemed to glitter with amusement at her own joke before they hardened. "While I love a melodramatic reunion as much as the next girl, I think you should fill us in on why you're lurking about uninvited"
"I saw you on the news" she said moving closer. Santana turned to keep Quinn in sight as she walked around the room.
"Spit it out Fabray. You know I hate when you do that prowling shit."
Quinn grinned, knowing the moonlight cast an eerie shadow over her face. "I've been looking for you since your eviction from Robinson Park. How did they get you to leave so submissively" Quinn wondered whether submissive accurately described a half a dozen hospitalized police officers. Then again, none of them died. A few light maimings was pretty tame for Santana.
"They made me an offer I couldn't refuse. But why, Quinn, are you here?" The vine remnants in Quinn's hand began to quiver, a sure sign of Santana's waning patience. It wouldn't serve her purpose to overly antagonize Santana right now.
"I've got a proposition for you."
"Finally!" Brittany cheered, pumping her fist. She looked over at Santana, smug. "I told you she-"
Santana cut her off more sharply than necessary, looking slightly flustered. "We're listening."
Brittany reached up to switch on a dim light bulb while Santana leaned against the to wall.
"You know, the three of us have been living on the edge way too long. When we're not running from the police we're fending off some costumed whack job. "
Brittany nodded, "Yeah, some guy dressed as Santa Claus tried to kidnap me last week." Santana grudgingly recalled her frequent clashes with GCPD over the past few years.
"Gotham is worse than ever for girls like us. That gives us a choice -we can get out, or band together."
She felt those dark eyes on her, searching. Quinn resisted the urge to squirm. "You've always been the cat who walked by herself. Why the sudden change?" Santana asked. Her eyebrows rose as if she'd just solved a complex puzzle. "Is it because of the rumors of a new Batman in town. One you aren't sleeping with?" She made a victorious little sound in her throat, slinking towards Quinn, bringing a cloud of floral perfume with her. "I bet its true. Though if it is, I question your judgment. The new Bat is highly disappointing. It's like he dropped a few IQ points and gained several pounds. Still, he's probably right up your alley."
Brittany looked up from where she sat on the windowsill. "Gross."
"I'm sure you have no idea what you're talking about, Santana. Stop being a bitch and give me an answer."
"Retract your claws, kitty. Or I might reject your offer." she looked to her friend. "Britt, a word?"
They withdrew to a dark corner, heads together in a smattering of hushed whispers. Santana made sure to summon vines around them so Quinn couldn't read their lips.
"What do you think?" Brittany asked.
Santana peeked though an opening in the vines to eye the way Quinn stood tapping her foot with thinly veiled irritation. "She's a good ally, if we can trust her. But I'm more concerned with why we haven't seen her in months."
Brittany shrugged, "Maybe she hibernates. Look San, I know you don't trust her, but if she can keep GCPD and those Bats off our backs, it might be worth it."
The cocoon parted. "Fine, we're in. but how exactly is this going to work"
"Quinn should stay here." Brittany seemed to not notice the way Santana's face twisted as if the idea physically pained her. She looked instead to Quinn. "We haven't seen you in ages. You have to stay."
It was pretty much settled after that. Quinn couldn't reject such an earnest appeal and she knew from experience that Santana rarely won an argument with Brittany. This time, she didn't even try.
Brittany beamed at them both. She tugged Quinn into a bone-crushing hug, turning to Santana saying, "Try not to kill her, though. I think Lord Tubbington would like having another cat in the house again."
"You killed her cat?" Quinn asked.
Santana shrugged and said. "She ate one of my plants. She died. At least the fat one knows not to eat everything in sight. Its ironic, really."
She stepped intimately close with a challenging glint in her eyes that set Quinn's teeth on edge. Strong arms slid across her shoulders and gently reeled her in until she felt silky hair brush along her jaw. Quinn froze when soft lips grazed her ear before releasing a puff of hot air against her neck. Santana squeezed her tightly and whispered, "Welcome to the jungle, kitten." Quinn tried to focus on returning the embrace and not the way that smoky rasp sent chills down her spine.