Chapter Two

~Bridgette~

You could hear a pin drop with the silence that stretched between us. Bruce Wayne leaned back against an antique mahogany desk, hands gripping the sides as he carefully regarded me. I stood with my arms crossed, wondering if maybe the past few years had rendered the billionaire mute.

"Dick told me you were on your way to Gotham. I have to say I didn't really believe him until I saw you standing at the gate."

I fought the urge to giggle at the nickname, but the seriousness that radiated from the billionaire forced me to remain composed. "I might have more than one unexpected thing up my sleeve."

Bruce tilted his head to the side with a small cautious smile, "You would be surprised, I have my ways to find out information."

I let my arms fall to my sides, the smile breaking the tension that I didn't realize I was feeling. "Do your information sources tend to have names like the Flash, or Nightwing? I kind of figured they would be friends with Batman."

To his credit Bruce didn't seem surprised at my apparent knowledge, instead, he pushed himself off of the desk and went to sit behind it. "Those and others. Tell me, how did you find out?"

"It wasn't as hard as expected, actually. Richard told me he was Nightwing, but I didn't start connecting the dots until I went to Central City for a few months and found out Barry Allen was the Flash. Watching someone with a secret identity when you know they have one, makes the signs really easy to spot in others. I have to say, he was completely shocked when I told him I knew because of the electricity that I could feel practically radiating off of him in waves."

At that Bruce cracked a full smile, "Of course, it had to be Barry,"

I recalled my time in Central City fondly. Barry and his team had done a lot in helping me figure out my powers, helped me try to walk the path of good, confidence never truly wavering in me even when I stumbled. It was also the city where I gained the name people called out whenever I donned my mask.

"Why are you here, Bridgette? I recall hearing you would never step foot in Gotham again." Bruce regarded me carefully, it was easy to tell he was watching me with the practiced eye he had acquired through his years of crime-fighting.

This was the part I was afraid to talk about. Richard's reaction to me telling him I didn't know Megan was alive had left me with a bad feeling as I made the short trip from Bludhaven to Gotham. It was already late in the evening, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon. I had arrived in the city much later than I had expected to. Richard lured me to stay in bed with him for the better part of the day, claiming that I had been gone long enough and that a few more hours with him wouldn't make any difference. When I had finally managed to disentangle myself from him, breathless and glowing, he promised that he would find a way to get back to Gotham as soon as he could. Meanwhile, doing a horrendous job of hiding his worry as he watched me get dressed and leave his apartment.

When I could feel my face get hot recalling the day's activities, I focused back on the question that had been presented to me. "I fully intended to never return. But a couple of days ago it came to my attention that Megan was alive."

Bruce's reaction was eerily similar to the one Richard had given me. Confused, not really believing me. "You didn't know?"

Was this the reaction I was going to get every time I said it? I could feel the irritation start to rise, grateful that my powers were in check because a year or two ago, that feeling would have caused all the lightbulbs in the room to explode. "No, I didn't. Why is that so hard for everyone to accept?"

"It's not as if it was a secret. At least in the circles that people like you and I run in." His eyebrows drew together. "I know for a fact that she was fully resuscitated while you were in Central City. I even consulted with one of the members of Barry's team when it happened, they aren't the kind of people to keep things like that secret."

I remembered the worried looks they sent my way in the early days of our acquaintance but I had figured that was because they were unsure of my alignment. Worried about the wild flare of my powers every time I let an emotion go unchecked. There hadn't been a single time where they hadn't been honest with matters directly related to me. "They wouldn't have kept it a secret." I agreed.

It seemed like we both came to the same conclusion at the same time, Bruce being the one to voice what we both realized. "It seems that the chip's influence surpasses even the limits of Gotham." The meaning of those words was too big for me to even want to consider. Everything I had done since leaving the city now had a dark cloud hanging over it.

"But why would that be the only thing they did? If they could still control me, why just make me keep believing she was dead?"

The man shook his head, "I couldn't say. Maybe their influence is limited, but I can't possibly know their motivations."

I wasn't ready to fully examine the implications of that revelation, my head was already reeling with the thought that they had still been watching me. How much did they know? Do they know everything that I did or just some of it? Controlling me even when I thought I had escaped their sphere of influence, let myself believe that maybe they were done with me. I finally made my way over to the chair he had in front of his desk, unable to stand on steady legs anymore. "How is she?"

Bruce regarded me with an unexpected level of sympathy, knowing full well who I was referring to "She's good, as far as I can tell. Won't really tell anyone how the ordeal affected her. Tends to stay out of strictly physical altercations. She's done a lot for Gotham." He watched as I tried to sift through my emotions, unable to figure out how I felt, "Just as you have done a lot for the world too," My focus returned back to Bruce. "Even Gotham has heard the news of Blitz. Aliens are something that I've had limited contact with myself."

For a moment I didn't know what to say. I hadn't considered that there was any news or talk about me in Gotham at all. I tended to avoid any news related to Gotham, opting to shun anything related to it. At least until I read the article that led me here. "I didn't think it was anything that special."

"Don't undersell what you have done. You've managed to make a name for yourself over the last couple of years. The way I've heard Dick talk about you sometimes-" He shook his head, discarding whatever he had been about to say. "I just wanted to tell you that I see you. Just don't let yourself get carried away. Having powers is a lot of responsibility." His voice was kind but I wasn't oblivious to the warning in his voice. I was in his city and he wouldn't hesitate if I stepped out of line.

"Thank you for talking to me, Bruce. I don't really know what to do. It's weird being back in Gotham."

"Do what you do best, but don't push yourself. Believe me when I say we're going to figure out what's going on." The phone on his desk started to ring and the look he sent me made it clear that our meeting had come to an end. "Be careful on your way out."

It didn't take me long to figure out what he had meant about being careful. When I stepped out of the front doors of Wayne Manor, the roar of a motorcycle seemed to drown out any other sound. The rider was in the process of taking off their helmet when our eyes met. The recognition in his bright blue eyes quickly dissolved into fury. I stood my ground as the helmet was unceremoniously thrown to the ground as the rider marched towards me. Didn't flinch when his fist collided with my face, I simply turned my head with the motion only slightly surprised at the force he was able to back the blow with.

The punch didn't hurt as it probably would have a few years ago but it did send a jolt down my spine. I knew without a doubt that most other people would have been flat on their backs if they had been on the receiving end of Jason's fury. However, the fact that it didn't hurt as much as he had likely intended didn't exactly mean that my body was indestructible. There was a chance a bruise would form by the morning but it would fade before the weekend was over.

"Good to see you too, Jason."

"What are you doing here?" The punch didn't make me flinch but the vitriol in his voice did.

I leveled my gaze at him, fists clenched at his sides, eyes burning with a hate that I hadn't seen in a long time. "I'm here to see Megan."

He shoved a hand against my chest, it was a move I was embarrassed to admit I didn't expect and I stumbled back a few steps to keep from falling to the ground. "You're not going anywhere near her."

"Do you really think you could stop me?"

His response was immediate, "Do you really think she would want to see you?"

I lifted my chin, trying to school my face into a mask of indifference. "I'm her best friend,"

"Were," Jason took a slow menacing step towards me, "Past tense, you were her best friend." He raised a hand up, pointing an accusatory finger at me. "That was before you killed her. Before you left for years and didn't say a single word to her even after she had been brought back." Jason took a step forward and I took one back, maintaining the distance between us. "I actually thought you would come back. Do you believe that? I had faith in you, however brief that time was."

"Don't you dare," I shook my head wrapping my arms around myself as if I could block the blows that his words were sending at me. "I didn't know. How could I have known that she had been brought back from the dead, Jason? I'm not clairvoyant! I don't have the power to see the future. Don't come at me with your righteous indignation and claim to have believed in me. You've always wanted to be proven right about just how bad I am, even though you know that Megan and I went through the same exact thing."

Jason let out a bark of laughter, "You really expect me to buy that? Come on, you couldn't come up with a better lie? You didn't know..." He shook his head, "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think Megan is stupid?"

I held up my hands, officially over this conversation. There was nothing I could say to change his mind. I knew that, he knew that. "Fine, believe whatever the hell you want to believe Jason." This time it was I who strode forward to close the distance between us. "But if you think for a second that you could actually stop me from seeing her then you are sorely mistaken. First off, it's not really your choice to make now, is it? Second, you can't really stop me."

Jason looked down at me contemptuously. For a moment I regretted getting as close as I did. His being taller than me took a considerable chunk out of the intimidation I was hoping to achieve. He gave me a wicked smile, the look of a man who was about to deliver a killing blow. I had seen it enough times to recognize the expression. "She'll never forgive you. Do you think she hasn't seen what you've been doing all this time? Living it up. Megan hasn't tried to hide the fact that she looks for your name in the news, and doesn't try to deny it when she reads an article about your supposed heroics. But over time, I can tell you that hopeful, expectant expression has long since turned bitter. Maybe if you had come back sooner, you could have rekindled some semblance of your friendship, but you waited too long." I watched as his body language shifted, the slight change in his footing, "There's no place for you in her life anymore, and the sooner you realize that the easier it's going to be on everyone."

This time when the punch came my way I was ready for it. Instead of his fist connecting to my face a second time I stopped it just before it landed. When I squeezed Jason's fist with my hand a look of shock passed over his face seconds before it morphed into one of pain. My left knee came up, not hard enough to crack his ribs, even though I wished I could put that much force behind it. However, it was hard enough to knock the wind out of him and have him stumble backwards. Maybe it didn't crack his ribs but I let a small smile fill my face because I knew it would leave a sizable bruise.

"Wow, Jason. Did you really just expect I would let you hit me? Do you think I'm stupid?" My words mocked his earlier statement. I know I shouldn't have let him get to me, I should have just walked away and let it be. But I could feel the sparks humming beneath the surface of my skin, ready to leap out and strike at a moment's notice. I kept them suppressed though, there was no need for me to use my power on Jason. He was blinded with hate and anger and even if he could land a few hits, I could tell he wasn't at his full capacity at the moment. The shadows under his eyes marked sleepless nights, and the fury burning in his eyes made him sloppy.

"Leave!" He snapped, sending a high kick towards my side. I stepped out of the way grabbing his calf and pulling before losing my grip as his elbow came down slamming into the crook of my neck. "Everything was going fine without you here!"

I stumbled back, the two of us circling each other for a moment. Jason went to lunge forward and I caught him by the arm spinning us around and sending him careening into his motorcycle. There was a satisfying crunch as the side mirror shattered against the pavement of the driveway. I grabbed Jason by the shirt with my right hand, hauling him back up to his feet before he could get his bearings. I didn't want to be here all night fighting with him, and in order to do that I had to keep this fight short and sweet. I had to keep him from getting his bearings, not allow him enough time to reign in his anger and channel it in a useful way. I learned the hard way that just because you may be stronger than your opponent, it doesn't mean that automatically qualifies a win.

My last blow was a punch directly to his left eye. When I let go I was mildly impressed to see that he stayed on his feet even though he swayed slightly. I started to walk away making it about a hundred yards before I stopped and turned back around. Feeling the need to close out our exchange with a few more words. "Both of us may have been holding back. But just so you know, Jason. If this had been a real fight, I would have still kicked your ass."

Jason had leaned over, elbows on knees as he let out a bitter laugh. "We'll see about that, Blitz."

The tone in his voice did its job exactly as he intended it. But instead of marching back over and continuing to trade blows, I allowed the electricity to spill from my fingertips, just as it had wanted to do earlier. I watched with grim satisfaction as the blue-white sparks arched through the air before coiling around the bike still leaning sadly on its side. There was a second where nothing happened, but the next Jason had to jump away from the bike as it let out a dull rumble before exploding into flames. It may have been one of the smaller explosions that I had seen but it nonetheless gave me a thrill of satisfaction to watch the metal as it twisted and groaned under the heat of the flames consuming it.

"Catch you later, Red Hood." With that I continued the trek down the long driveway leading up to Wayne Manor, feeling Jason's eyes on my back the whole way to the gate.

-Megan-

I was trapped in Hell. Despite all the wrong that I had done in my life, I still didn't think it was enough to have me damned for all eternity.

But how else could I explain this nothingness that surrounded me? What else could account for this complete solitude that was inescapable?

The sad thing was that I could have sworn I was somewhere else before I was here. Someplace that was kinder. Was it Heaven? I guess that it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I wasn't there anymore.

I was coming to terms with my eternal suffering when suddenly pain engulfed me. A body that I didn't know I still had was in agony. Whatever sick pleasure I used to have from pain was completely gone. No longer a masochist, all that I wanted to do was scream at this newfound torture, but I had no mouth. Brightness engulfed me like flames and before I knew it my eyes had opened.

Voices surrounded me, but none of the words made sense. The light was blinding, so I covered my eyes. Where was I? Slowly I was able to make out the shapes around me, some human forms slowly coming into clarity. It looked like I was in something like a hospital room.

The voices started to become clearer and I could make out the sound of some mechanical beeping. I could have sworn that I died.

Was I able to pull through?

Did they get me to the hospital in time?

The lights didn't hurt as much anymore and I moved my hand...noticing the horrible colors that it was. It was as though my skin was made up of nothing but bruises. My breath caught in my throat and I looked at my other arm, horrified to see that it was the same hideous colors. Where did I get these? What happened to me?

"-mind and body seem in sync. It is unclear if she has any cognitive function."

"Heart rate is increasing, but it is no cause for concern yet."

"Megan, can you hear us? Do you know what we're saying?"

I lifted the bed sheet to see that I was in a hospital gown. My legs were covered in the same bruises, all the way down to my toes. I could see my ribcage poking against the fabric of my clothes. What in the world-

Megan. Let us know if you can hear us.

I froze. Somehow I heard that sentence inside of my head as well as in the room. Slowly I turned my eyes, finally noticing the figure sitting next to me on a laptop. Except I knew that figure.

Lacie?

We made eye contact and she nodded. "It looks like she understands what we're saying." The attendants around her made some sounds of approval.

How could I hear Lacie in my head? What was she doing in my head?

Megan, could you try saying something for us? She made eye contact with me as she spoke into a small mic attached to her laptop.

It all came together. Lacie hated me and Bridgette. She especially hated Emily, and Emily was our best friend. I could hear her voice inside of my head-

"How could you!?" I screamed and lurched out of my bed. The tubes attached to me popped off and there was mechanical screaming everywhere. My legs could barely handle the couple of steps it took to make it to Lacie, and I collapsed into her. We both crashed to the ground. The attendants started shouting as I wrapped my fingers around Lacie's neck and pressed down hard. "You ruined both of our lives! Did you hate us that much? What did we ever do to deserve the hell that you put us through!?"

"Security! Someone get security!"

They tried to pry me off of her, but I refused to move. Lacie didn't even try to struggle.

"Get out of our heads!" I shouted. Her face was turning blue and she finally made some movement - to reach up and stroke my cheek gently.

The movement was so surprising that I hesitated for a second. There was a softness in her eyes that I couldn't comprehend. Before I could do anything else, I was yanked up and thrown like a ragdoll back on the bed.

Guards struggled to strap down my thrashing body, in a fashion that reminded me of when I lost it on the Arkham Asylum nurses during my solitary confinement there.

Somewhere past my screams, I could hear Lacie apologizing to me.

I woke up in a sweat, my sheets tangled around my body. I hadn't had that nightmare in a long time. Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my body back down. The first few days of me being awake after my resurrection were the worst. For a while, I would be plagued by nothing but nightmares about those days.

"I think that I know a way that I can get you free," Lacie had told me last night. That must have been why I had that nightmare. The softness that she treated me with that day came back to me. Did she apologize back then because she didn't like how this had happened to me? Is that why she wanted to help set me free? The confusion that I had about her motives didn't mix with the hatred I've come to develop for her over the years, like water and oil.

She took away my life. She made it to where I could never be the girl that I used to be: Megan had died a monster that barely anyone in Gotham could muster a tear for. I couldn't do anything that I wanted anymore. Every single movement I made felt watched, and almost nothing I did could happen without her approval. Too many times had I felt that familiar coolness wash over me as she guided me back from whatever she arbitrarily decided that I shouldn't be doing.

But what if this wasn't her fault? What if she was just another player in this twisted game, just like me?

"I think that I know a way that I can get you free."

Untangling my legs from my sheets, I got out of my bed. It wasn't like I could ask her about the questions that were burning in my chest. It was obvious to me that she was being watched just like me. Maybe not to the same degree, but enough to where we couldn't speak openly about this.

My eyes flicked over to the alarm clock on my nightstand. 9:46 AM. Shit. I forgot to set my alarm last night. If I hurried I could get a quick makeup look done, but there was no way I would even have time for so much as a cup of coffee.

For a second I thought about when I was in college. When I was just Megan Lane. Back then I could have just rolled out of bed, thrown my hair into a messy bun, swig some mouthwash around, and then head out into the world. But I was no longer Megan. It was one of the smaller things about being my former self, but it was something that I missed.

Eliza McCloud had an entirely different set of expectations for her than I ever had. If I so much as showed up to work with a bare face, people lost their minds. Every morning I had to become her: put in the grey contacts, apply at least some makeup to my face, dress in clothing richer than anything I had ever owned, and style my hair in some presentable fashion.

At least my hair was dyed the same color as my big brother's. Like autumn leaves. There was some familiarity when I looked in the mirror, even if this trait had never originally been mine.

Hurrying through my morning routine, I contemplated how exactly I was going to investigate Sebastien Mallory like Lacie wanted me to. I never knew when I was being monitored. There were some things that Lacie knew had happened without me ever feeling so much as a cool presence in my head.

But surely there must be a way that it could be done. Otherwise, she wouldn't have expected me to - after going through high school with me, she must know how stupid I could be.

With my face presentable, I changed into a pantsuit. It had been so long since I tried to change my life, I had given up on thinking that it could be anything different than what it was. It seemed like this chip was a permanent part of me. If not even me dying was enough to escape their control, then what hope could I possibly have?

Maybe it was worth trying again.

As ready for the day as I could be, I checked and double-checked that my door was locked before I headed out. The traffic to work wasn't bad and I was thankfully able to make it to the main basement floor of Wayntech exactly at 10:30 on the dot. Right on time. The relief however was short-lived, as I was instantly greeted by the unmistakable disappointed tone of Lucius Fox.

"Good morning, Ms. McCloud. Do you know what I'm going to tell you?" he asked, falling into step with me.

I waved at the receptionist and sighed. "Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable," I said with an impeccable British accent. Another Liza trait that I could never forget.

"So what does that make you this morning?" he asked as we moved down the hallway to the testing lab.

"I'm sorry. Some things came up last night and I forgot to set my alarm." We both scanned our work IDs to get through the first clearance doors.

"Mr. Wayne is prone to having hectic nights, but he is never late to wherever he needs to be." Lucius knew about my vigilantism. However, since he also knew that Bruce spent his nights as Batman, the expectations were higher for me.

As if I could ever reach the same level as Bruce. It barely felt like I could reach the expectations of this fake identity that Bruce had crafted for me.

"Sometimes I feel like my best effort is never enough for you," I said as I performed the retina scan to get through the second clearance doors. Passing through them, I stood and waited for Lucius to follow behind me. As he walked through the doors, I said, "You know that I could just make it to where the doors let us through and we wouldn't have to go through all of these clearances."

"Then you should know that I believe in the protocol here for a good reason. We can never be too safe. Do we want a repeat of Thomas Elliott?" he asked.

The name never failed to make me feel sick to my stomach. It was the attempt to see if he was connected to the chips in my head that had gotten me killed. We had been ambushed and I was shot and killed in the confusion. Turns out, the scheme that Thomas was planning had absolutely nothing to do with me and the woman who killed me, but entirely with Bruce Wayne.

For some twisted reason, he blamed Bruce for not getting his family's fortune. His reign as Hush had terrorized Gotham in his attempt to get to Bruce. It all would have been so much easier if Hush hadn't surgically altered his body to look identical to the billionaire. So many security clearances were proven pointless as Hush tricked his way through all of them.

Even though he still never had anything to do with me, even before he was captured, he was still associated with a bad memory that I would rather forget. If he had been involved with the chips, at least I could have felt like my death carried some purpose to it. But I had died just as I had lived and continued to: meaninglessly.

"No," I finally said and we continued to the last clearance doors.

Putting his thumb on the scanner he continued, "That's what frustrates me about you. You coast through life without any real drive when I know that you're capable of so much more. You do only the bare minimum of what is expected of you, without reaching for anything else."

"What can I say? It's gotten me this far in life," I said, defeated. If only he knew how long this habit went back with me. Then he would understand how every single time that I tried to better my life, it would only have it blow up in my face.

And here you are, about to try again just because Lacie made you feel like you could, a voice commented.

If there was one thing that I had hoped would leave by now, it was the voices in my head. But while they decreased in their frequency and vitriol, they had not disappeared entirely.

"I just wish that you could see the same potential in you that I do," he said.

"Yes, I know. I look forward to having this exact same conversation tomorrow," I sighed again and we entered the main testing lab for Wayne Tech. It was an enormous room filled with the type of technology and gadgets that most vying for power would die to get their hands on. I could feel the presence of all the equipment around me, they were filled with as much life as the other employees that were busy working about the room. It felt more like home than my apartment ever could.

There were no secrets that I had to keep from the technology. It knew everything about me and I knew everything about it.

Instantly I could tell that one of them was struggling. My gaze went over to a computer, with a frustrated worker sitting right in front of it. My feet moved over without me thinking about it, compelled to fix whatever was happening.

"Is everything alright here?" I asked as I stood behind the worker's chair.

The worker cursed, looked up at me, then did a double-take. "M-Ms. McCloud," he said, eyes wide. "I didn't expect you to bother with this. It's just refusing to start up, but I can figure it out -"

"Let's see what the deal is here," I interrupted, reaching over him. I could feel his body tense up underneath me, he didn't dare even breathe. Pretending to type something on the keyboard, I reached out with my powers to smooth out whatever kinds I could feel in the system. The computer made a startup sound and the screen flared back to life, right as day. "There. Easy enough," I said cheerfully.

The worker was dead silent, staring at the computer in disbelief. "What did you just do?"

"Oh, just some random maneuver that I picked up," I shrugged. "I wouldn't want to bore you with the details."

"Okay, but I know computers. What you just did was complete nonsense."

"Ah..." I stammered and I could see Lucius watching us from close by. I could feel the heat from a blush as it consumed my face.

"You literally just typed gibberish. B-d-b-a-w-h-a? What kind of shortcut is that?"

"W-well, you see..." One of the most difficult parts about my powers was explaining to others how I used them. They operated abstractly, whereas people can only make sense of technology in concrete terms. Lucius had me study all the different parts of WayneTech gadgets in the hopes that I could come up with some feasible explanation for others when it seems like I have miraculously fixed something, but right now I was blanking.

"My apologies for interrupting, but I had a specific project that I wanted Ms. McCloud's keen insight on. We'll let you get back to work now, James," Lucius stepped in with a hand at my elbow, guiding me away.

"Of course. I guess I should thank you for doing...whatever it is that you just did," James said unsurely before he turned back around.

"Perhaps you should consult me before you take it upon yourself to work on things around here, hm?" Lucius said. Even though his face didn't show it, I could tell that he was slightly amused by the humiliating interaction.

"Right. Or next time I can just attach a thumb drive and pretend that there is some program I've created which is doing the job?"

He frowned in consideration. "That could possibly work. We'll worry about that later, though. I wasn't lying earlier when I said that there was a project that I wanted you to look over for me..."

As he was talking, I noticed on a table some of the portable hacking devices that I had helped him with a couple of months ago. It was lightweight and had a camouflaging skin on it, so that way one could slip it onto the target of the hacking without them being any the wiser. Making sure that nobody was watching, I swiped it and stuffed it in my pocket.

"Sounds good. I can't wait to get started," I said, the smile on my face genuine.

~Bridgette~

Listening to the police radio while I took a shower I could hear codes being called out in a near never-ending streak, robberies, muggings, vandalism, and murder scenes. I couldn't figure out how Bruce did it. How did he decide where to go? Who to save? Crime happened everywhere, but in Gotham there was just so much more, a constant flow of bad things. I was overwhelmed just listening, itching to place my mask on my face and get out there, anxious to do something. Even with Red Hood, Berserk, Robin, Oracle, and occasionally Nightwing as a commuter vigilante, how did they handle it? I couldn't help but wonder if everything they did was absolutely futile, especially if they refused to rid the world of some of them.

I recall voicing that exact thought to Barry once. He had refused to talk to me for days after and I left Central City three weeks later. At first, I didn't think the two events were related but when I had taken Nyssa's offer after the failed invasion I realized that it was exactly why I left. It had been a combination of shame for even entertaining the thought, and bitterness because how can we make the world any better if we refuse to rid the world of its rot? Heros don't have thoughts like that. While in Central City I had fooled myself into thinking I was a hero, and I couldn't keep lying to myself.

After getting dressed I wandered out into the apartment's living room. I had rented out an overly nice unit with a view of Wayne Tower, perfectly angled so that I could see the Bat-Signal if it ever lit up the sky. Over the last couple years, I had managed to acquire a semi-decent amount of money in a bank account under my alias of Katrina McCloud. It wasn't enough to get the apartment for more than a couple of months but after I had met with Bruce the sum had been upped exponentially and I had gotten a phone call from the apartment complex saying that the unit was ready for me to tour, in the middle of the night. The power of money.

I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I signed the lease as soon as I walked into the building, not bothering with the tour first. I had no idea how long I was going to be in Gotham and having a place to sleep and regroup was something I had come to realize was incredibly important in my supposed line of work. I made a mental note to thank the vigilante billionaire before I demanded him to give me a way to repay his generosity.

"10-90, we got a 10-90. Downtown Gotham City National Bank, request for immediate backup. Perpetrators wearing rabbit masks." My eyes wandered to the sky, the sun had not yet gone back down the horizon, and there was no Bat-Signal to see. The police scanner let out a series of staccato static noises as if someone was repeatedly pressing the button to talk but didn't say anything. I was already running back across the apartment, beelining for my bag where my suit sat as I could hear screams begin to take place of the static. "Back-up en route, eta twenty minutes," The bank was barely two blocks from the apartment, I was going to get there long before their backup was going to arrive.

Shimmying through the bank's ventilation system was harder than I wanted it to be. It was a tight fit, I had to take in short shallow breaths so that I didn't get stuck. My first instinct had been to bust through the front doors of the bank but the thugs had already tied up the patrons, employees, and the unfortunate duo of police officers who had first arrived, lining them up against the front doors. Their heads had been topped with some of Hatter's mind control hats, eyes blank. It was unfortunate but this particular bank robbery was going to require a little more finesse than simply bulldozing through. Which was unfortunate, because I found the bulldoze approach to be the most enjoyable.

When I arrived at one of the vents leading down into the president's office, there were three men with bunny masks covering their faces, laughing in excitement as they messed with a hat that seemed to be more complicated than the ones atop the other hostages' heads. I could only guess what the hat did. The female president was fruitlessly pulling against the zip ties keeping her tied to her chair, giving the hat a look of undiluted terror. I waited until they were directly below the vent, on their way to place the hat on her head before I busted down below. The fall wasn't as graceful as I had intended, the tightness of the ventilation system making anything more than a slightly controlled fall impossible.

The men didn't even have time to shout as my lightning jumped its way across their bodies, sending just the right amount of voltage to knock them unconscious. Mastering the correct amount of electricity to send to a human body had been one of the most frustrating things I had had to figure out as I learned to control my powers. Too much power, or if it hit at just the right spot I could end up killing the person. There were times when I wished I didn't have to be so careful. But I had trained myself so that I didn't cause any accidental deaths. I had drilled it into my head to instinctually send only enough to knock someone out in my first wave of attack. Then up the ante as needed.

I had to hold a finger to my lips as I approached the woman, her eyes widening as I approached. As carefully as I could I removed the gag from her mouth, hoping she would keep quiet. "Is there any other way to get out of here?"

She had to swallow a few times before she responded, noticing that I was here to help her, not another threat. "We had a secret entrance installed two months ago, I was headed there with some of the employees when those men ambushed us." She shook her head, eyes filling with tears, "I don't know where those guys took them. I promised them we would be safe and that the security measures we put in place would allow everyone enough time to get out in case this happened." Her body started to shake as she sobbed.

My hand rushed to cover her mouth, not knowing if there were more of Hatter's men outside the door. "I know," I whispered. "It's going to be okay, I will do everything I can to make sure everyone makes it out of here, okay? I just need you to try and calm down a bit so that I can do that."

The woman squeezed her eyes shut taking deep breaths around the palm of my hand. She may be panicking but managed to be much more composed than some would be in her situation. When it seemed like she had calmed down a bit, I moved my hand away so that I could start pulling the zip ties from her wrists and ankles. I didn't have a knife so I had to just pull at the ties until they snapped. When each tie gave way, she winced as they pulled against her skin before they broke. But to her credit, she made no noise of complaint.

"Do you know how many there are?" She shook her head, I bit my lip, eyes straying to the door, constantly worried that someone would burst through the door. "I need you to go to that secret entrance you mentioned and see if you can lead some of the police through it." I gently grabbed her shoulders, "Can you do that?"

The woman nodded slowly, "Yeah, yeah. I can do that."

"Okay, we're going to go through that door and you are going to run as fast as you can towards the entrance. I will make sure that no one gets to you." I started to lead the way to the doors but the woman's hand shot out and grabbed my elbow.

"I recognize you." My hand froze halfway to the doorknob, "You're Blitz. I thought you lived in Central City...or was it National City?" Her eyebrows drew together as she tried to conjure a memory, likely of where she had seen me last.

I forced myself to give the woman a small smile, "I tend to go wherever I'm needed."

She regarded me with a curious expression. Hope making her already wet eyes shine. "Gotham needs heroes."

This conversation was going to ruin my element of surprise, besides... "I'm no hero."

Not giving the woman a chance to respond, I swung open the door, and just as I expected two masked thugs stood flanking the entrance to the office. I hooked my foot around the left guy's ankle, sending him off balance, head bouncing against the wall with a crack. My flattened right hand struck out to hit the man on the right, directly into his Adam's apple. He let out a strained choking noise as he fell to his knees, clutching his throat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the woman immediately leap over the guy I had sent to the ground, apparently unconscious. She moved at impressive speeds down the hall, I only had to send an arc of electricity at one guy as she sprinted away, the guy's back bowing backwards as he fell to the ground. Good. They were unaware of the secret entrance.

I spun towards the main lobby of the bank, barely able to raise my hands up to block the crowbar that had been on a path to bust open my skull. The bunny mask the guy wore had somehow been painted in a perpetual look of surprise, a look I hoped was mirrored on the face of the guy who wore it when my boot connected with his chest. Unlike last night, I wasn't holding back as much and the sound of his ribs crunching under my shoe sent adrenaline coursing through my veins. There was nothing like being able to throttle some criminals.

My hand clutched the crowbar in my hand, stepping over the two men groaning on the ground. I could feel a smirk pull at my lips as I rolled my shoulders back. Maybe there was one small benefit to operating in Gotham. There were plenty of opportunities to beat someone down. Another henchman tried to rush me from around the corner, he didn't even get close enough to hit me, one well-aimed hit with the crowbar causing him to slump to the ground.

The blunt weapon clattered to the ground as I let it fall from my grip. The desire to let go and not hold back, tightly reigned in. The sound of Richard's and Bruce's voices were loud in my head telling me to only incapacitate. Every once in a while, I tossed the idea around in my head to crush skulls under my boots like ripe watermelons. Send enough volts through a body that would cause eyeballs to melt. I made sure those desires remained firmly locked away from reality.

A piece of my long hair fell from my haphazardly swept-up bun. Impatiently, I tucked it behind my ear, thoughts of death cluttering my mind. I had to slam my fist into the wall to dispel the intrusive thoughts, drywall crumbled and gave way under my fingers. The jolt the blow sent up my arm cleared my mind and I was able to return my attention to the issue at hand. All I had to do was make sure none of the hostages got hurt, that was my only objective. I had to make sure that was the only thing on my mind.

There were four henchmen in rabbit masks hovering about the vault, a wicked-looking standing laser on wheels slowly melting through the thick steel door. That was one way to do it. By the doors two more henchmen paced in front of the hostages, shotguns firmly held in their hands.

After another quick scan of the room, I came to the conclusion that while it was obvious this was the work of the Mad Hatter, the rogue was conspicuously absent. A shame, because I would have loved to snap the bones in each of his gross fingers.

I shifted my stance, I had seconds before they noticed I was there. I haven't exactly been quiet in taking the other guys down but the laser was loud as it did its slow work, a dull buzz that I could feel vibrating through the soles of my boots. It didn't matter how loud the laser was though, it didn't prevent the men from being able to see.

I launched myself towards the shotgun-toting henchmen taking two long strides before bending my knees and propelling myself upward onto one of the counters the bank's patrons would use to sign their checks. The moment my boots thudded against the counter all the henchmen's attention became focused on me. Bending my waist forward I used the momentum that I had gained to flip my body, placing my hands just right as they came in contact with the edge of the counter to send a flying kick into the abdomen of the closest guy holding a shotgun. The weapon was sent skittering across the polished floor of the bank.

My angle was off, and instead of sending his body in the direction of the other guy in front of the hostages he instead stumbled to the side, falling into the expressionless line of hostages. I focused on the one who was still up, aiming his shotgun at my stomach.

I was able to take a few running steps forward to gain some momentum before I slid to the ground, kicking his feet out from under him right after he pressed the trigger, pellets spraying where I had been barely milliseconds before. My silver and black suit would have only done so much to prevent the bullets from tearing through my skin.

Just seeing the guns hadn't bothered me, but hearing the sound as the shotgun had fired, sent me into a frenzy. It sounded different than the ill-fated handgun had. So different from the weapon I had used to murder my best friend, but the sound it made as the gun fired was close enough. Close enough for my tightly reigned control to slip slightly. Still on the ground, I reached up wrapping my fingers around the barrel of the shotgun and squeezing. The barrel didn't crumple but I mangled it enough that the next round of pellets to jam in the barrel, exploding back into the man's face. He let out a scream as I let my electricity fan out into a latticework behind my back catching the bullets the other henchmen started to fire my way.

Keeping the wall up took so much of my concentration that I couldn't prevent the first guy I had downed from body slamming me in the side. I managed to remain upright but I did nothing to stop him as his fingers wrapped around my neck. The only thing I was focused on was keeping the pulsating wall of lightning up as bullets rained down on it, each bullet that collided sending a shower of sparks to fall on the floor.

Even as the fingers around my neck tightened, cutting off my oxygen I threw all I had at keeping the wall up knowing if I let it down the bullets would hit one of the hostages. It was times like these that I remembered why I actually hated to work alone, you were always placed into precarious situations. Forced to make a decision. I preferred the solace of having someone to watch my back, but now all I had was myself to rely on and if I let my electricity flare in a way that would dislodge the henchmen from my neck the surge of energy would either hit one of the hostages, or a bullet would slip through and once again result in harming one of the people standing listlessly behind me.

The sound of each bullet being released from a barrel made me want to scream. It was funny in a stupid kind of way that someone who did what I did couldn't stand the sound of a gun being fired. Each bang was like a cut to my psyche. Spots had started to bloom in front of my eyes and I was so close to passing out, so close to letting the wall fall. Even now, as my vision started to get dark, I could see the lattice become looser, the brilliance of it fading slightly. I couldn't do a single thing to prevent it.

Finally, a new set of voices joined the cacophony of noises. The woman had managed to get some of the GCPD into the bank. But even as the relief filled me I kept the wall up, until I was sure that the group by the vault became focused on the police. My wall of lightning vanished as I grabbed the fingers clasped around my neck squeezing until I felt bones break. The man's grip vanished as a wail of agony sounded so close to my ear that it hurt. I gasped in precious air, finally able to breathe.

I twisted my body around so that I was facing the man who had been intent on strangling me and used the weight of my body to pin him to the ground. He tried to wiggle away broken fingers clawing at the floor leaving bloody streaks on the polished marble, furiously trying to escape. I didn't let him.

My fist connected with his somehow unmasked face. One, two, three times. Letting some of my unreleased tension. I felt bones give under my assault, face turning into a bloody mask as he groaned weakly under me. The control I had held this whole time slipped, but the rage I had felt after hearing the sounds of those bullets had thankfully started to fade and I was able to stop myself from landing the fourth punch, a punch that wouldn't have been pulled. A punch that would have been fatal.

Too close. I stood on shaky feet, heart beating wildly in my chest as I backpedaled away from the man, his blood covering my knuckles. I had come too close to losing control today, yet another reason why I valued having at least one other person with me on missions. Having someone by my side made keeping myself together so much easier when I knew there were eyes on me.

Looking back I saw that the men who had been operating the laser were on their knees in cuffs. One of the officers was already striding toward me. I opened my mouth before she could say anything even close to a thanks. "I don't know how to get those hats off the hostages." My voice was hoarse and I swallowed hard hoping that it would help.

The officer paused but quickly recovered from my unexpected words. "We have an expert outside waiting to take them off."

Nodding I quickly tried to push past the still motionless hostages. Eyes glazed over as they kept their vigil standing in a line by the door. "Thank you," The officer shouted after me as I fumbled with the locks that the henchmen had turned to keep the doors from sliding open.

My fingers slipped. Just the words that I was trying to escape from. "Don't. Don't thank me." I furiously turned the locks, doors opening with a woosh, more of GCPD's finest walked through them. One of which wore a blue button-down shirt, half-moon glasses perched low on his nose, he made a beeline for the hostages, not sparing me a single glance. I refused to look any of the other police in the eye as I raced past the police cruisers that blocked the road from oncoming traffic.

As I ran from the bank, a voice sounded in my head. Come to me, now. I nearly stumbled at the sound of the voice but managed to regain my stride. My feet disobeying my own commands, starting to take me in the opposite direction of my apartment. I tried to fight against the force that made it impossible for me to go where I wanted to go, panic beginning to claw up my sore throat as I realized I no longer controlled my own body. No. You don't get a choice.

"Who are you?" The words were strained, the panic I felt easily detectable in the words that spilled from my mouth.

The voice seemed to laugh. You'll see soon enough.

-Megan-

It wasn't until late in the evening that I finally headed back up to the parking garage in order to leave work. I was massaging the tenseness out of my shoulders when I saw Jason waiting for me, leaning against the car that he barely used.

"Jason," I smiled, happy to see him until I noticed the enormous black eye on his face. "Oh my God, what happened?" I rushed over towards him. Instinctively, my hand went up to touch his face, but it froze mid-air. Stupid, he was hurt. He didn't want to be touched right now.

To my surprise though, he grabbed my hand and held it against his cheek. For the second time that day, I could feel a deep blush warm my face.

"Nothing for you to worry about," he said. "I'm not exactly a stranger to getting black eyes."

"Still though..." my eyes trailed over to the car, "and what happened to your bike?"

"Again, nothing for you to worry about," he laughed. "Come on. I'm treating you to dinner before I leave tomorrow." He let go of my hand to hold the passenger door open for me.

I lingered outside the car, staring him down. He was definitely more upset than he wanted me to believe. But if he wanted to tell me what happened, he would. I was all too familiar with keeping secrets in this friendship of ours. "Okay...well I rode my bike here today."

"Then I'll drop you back off so that you can ride it home. Come on. We haven't been to Bamonte's in a while."

"Because they shut down after Maroni got arrested."

"Yeah, well they're under new ownership now. Are you coming?"

I stood there, tapping my finger to my chin in fake contemplation. "Hm...well I suppose that I can cancel my plans," I said. Stepping into the car I told him, "You better get me the tiramisu."

"I wouldn't dare not to," he chuckled, closing the door behind me.

Something was really bothering Jason. Yet the more that I talked to him, the more that I could see the tightness leaving his jaw. We were good at that. We could make the other person relax in a way that nobody else could. Even when we weren't talking, I was comfortable just being around him.

Once we reached the restaurant and the host escorted us to our table, Jason pulled out the chair for me. Raising my eyebrows at him, I sat down. He normally wasn't this chivalrous with me.

As he sat down, I undid the updo that I had my hair in all day, massaging my scalp.

"Your hair's gotten very long," he commented.

"I know," I said excitedly. "It's basically mermaid length now." A waiter stopped by to drop off a couple of waters and some bread at our table.

"Mermaid length?" he wrinkled his eyebrows and took a sip of water.

"Yeah, you know. Like if I was topless, I could have my hair cover my boobs like a mermaid," I brushed my hair over my chest to demonstrate. Jason choked on his water and I realized what an immature thing it was that I just said. Too much like Megan. Not enough like Liza. I frantically flipped my hair back over my shoulders. "Or at least something like that," I muttered into my glass as I picked it up to take a sip.

Jason let out a loud laugh then winced. "Stop. It hurts to laugh," he shook his head.

Even with his face bruised, it could still be disarming how handsome he looked when he smiled like that. "No promises. You know how good my sense of humor can be," I said awkwardly and moved my eyes away from him.

The dinner was delicious, and as Jason put it, "Even better now that it's no longer a drug front." We had just ordered dessert when I caught him looking at me.

"What?" I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"Nothing. You just look very happy tonight."

"I am happy," I said and actually meant it. This was the happiest that I'd been in a while.

"Any particular reason why?"

The whole day, I'd been thinking up different ways that I could look into Sebastien Mallory while being discreet. As foolish as it was, I really felt like I could actually do something. Suddenly an idea came to me.

"What can I say?" I coughed and then made a point of tapping the table twice in front of me. He glanced down at my finger then back at me. "I have good food and good company."

"Hm? What would you say you like about the company?" he asked, then tapped his finger twice on the table.

I smiled. Of course, he would immediately pick up on what I was doing. A few months ago we had taught ourselves Morse code, so that way we could secretly talk to each other if we were bored at one of Bruce's charity events. It has saved us through many a gala so far.

"Well he's very clever," I started, spelling out N-E-E-D I-N-F-O. "It's nice to have someone who can match my wit."

"Ah, I wish that I could say the same about my dinner company. It really is a struggle to speak to someone so far beneath your intellect," he said and spelled W-H-A-T.

"That's too bad. Would you say that she's pretty?" S-E-B-A-S-T-I-E-N M-A-L-L-O-R-Y. "With that black eye of yours, she at least must be better looking than you."

"I can say that she isn't difficult on the eyes." W-H-Y.

"That's some consolation, I suppose." C-H-I-P.

His eyes lit up with excitement. Whenever I came back to Gotham after being resurrected, I had told everyone that I no longer wanted to find out who did this to me. While he didn't agree with me, he at least respected my wishes.

"Well, I do like my women with empty heads and pretty faces." O-N I-T.

"Of course. Just as I like my men with empty heads and full wallets." B-E C-A-R-E-F-U-L. The message communicated, I took a small sip of my water.

"We do know what we like," he said.

Our desserts arrived at the table. One bite into the tiramisu, and I knew that I couldn't ask for an evening more perfect than this. Maybe things really were looking up for me.

"Hey Liza, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," I said, digging my fork in for another bite.

"Would you ever want to see Katrina again?"

I flinched and dropped the tiramisu from my fork. Stunned, I looked up at Jason. Katrina was Bridgette's fake identity when we both lived in the Wayne Manor. Back before she had killed me and then skipped town.

Suddenly there was a sour taste in my mouth. We hadn't spoken about Bridgette since my twenty-first birthday. I could remember it all too clearly: me, him, Kori, Roy, and Barbara all cramming into his small apartment to celebrate my birthday "the right way". Four Dirty Shirleys and two lemon drop martinis later, and I was sitting on Jason's floor crying inconsolably into his lap as he ran his fingers through my hair. "I don't understand. Why does she hate me?"

"She doesn't hate you. You didn't do anything wrong," he repeated over and over again that night.

"But why hasn't she come to see me then? She didn't even go to my funeral," I sobbed.

That night was filled with a lot of tears and vomit on my end. It had brought out an ugly side to me that I was mostly able to hide away, even from myself. Being accidentally killed by your best friend was a special kind of hurt. But being entirely abandoned by her afterward was a whole other level of pain.

To make it even worse, Bridgette had somehow managed to break free from the chip. Or at the very least, be given more freedom by the people who controlled us. I saw the newspaper articles about her alter-ego the Blitz, and how she was able to travel all over the world without any issues. Yet any time I tried to leave this cursed city, the coolness would take over me and bring me back to my apartment. Lacie would always lecture me afterwards about trying to go too far.

Not only was I trapped in a body that quite frankly had no business moving around anymore, but I couldn't leave the city limits any further than Wayne Manor.

Would I ever want to see her again? How could Jason even ask a question like that? After all that has happened and how much time has passed?

I could see the regret on his face as I fumbled for words. To give him credit, he seemed as though he wanted to take back the question as soon as he asked it.

"As much as I wish my sister well, I do not have any desire to see her ever again," I said very slowly and carefully. "Excuse me. I need to go to the restroom."

"Liza, I'm so sorry," he stood up as I quickly bolted from the table.

I could barely close the stall door in time before I threw up my entire meal, and then some. It's like my body was trying to purge every negative emotion from me as well. Once I walked over to the sink to rinse out my mouth, I felt like a hollow shell of a being.

That's what happens when you let yourself get too happy like that, a voice said. For every high, there's a low.

I stared at my reflection, at a face that I could barely even recognize anymore. And for every low, there's yet another low waiting right after it, I agreed.