Hey, look, another chapter! Maybe I'll be able to keep up a good pace with this…Also, thank you to the anon from 6/4; your comment sort of gave me a little…nudge…into making this chapter. If not actual inspiration, it gave me a mad fury that filled me until it overflowed onto the page. I hope you all enjoy this little chapter.

I'm sure that there was many an occasion in which people assumed that I was 'weak', that I was 'helpless'. I'm sure that, at one time or another, this was true. No child starts out being as strong as they are as adults. Contrariwise, and in the same respect, some adults end up being weaker than their child counterparts.

But I am not helpless. I am not weak. Not physically, and not mentally. You can't exactly work on the force of Gotham if you are weak of body or mind.

I fought tooth and nail to get where I am today, against prejudices and insecurities. Because of this, I have few allies, and even fewer friends. But that's just how life is in Gotham.

Even in my darkest moments, I have never needed a savior. I am no damsel in distress that needs a hero.

0o0o0

"So, are they letting you go?"

I stared into my iced-tea and sighed. "No, no they're not…just…reassigning me."

The noises of the busy café easily masked the sound of ice clinking as I stirred my tea with a straw.

Selina, my only friend in Gotham (as of yet) tugged at a strand of hair that had escaped her low ponytail. "Love, that's essentially the same thing in Gotham," she explained with an absent wave of her hand. "It's not as if there are many places on the force that you can be assigned to…" she sipped her drink. "…unless you want a desk job."

I literally shuddered at the thought. "Ugh, yeah, that sounds sooo appealing…" I sighed. "Be that as it may, by the end of the year, I am most likely getting either a permanent station in the women's sector of the jail or…"

"…a desk job," finished Selina. I nodded, biting my straw.

"What of the games you play with the man in Green?" She asked.

I almost let my forehead fall to the table, a habit from high-school that I was still trying to work out of my system. "You see, that was probably the whole reason as to why I'm being transferred!" I exclaimed, straw dangling from my mouth. "In fact, I'm sure it is!" I pulled the straw out of my mouth to gesticulate with. "Here, they first tell us to get in close with the inmates, right? Sort of a learn from example kind of thing, but for madmen." She nods, following my straw with her eyes. "Then I'm told, nearly two years later, that I'm not supposed to be as close as I've been." My tone drops to nearly a lazy drawl. "I communicate with the inmates, I listen to them, I give them a conversation worth having at times, I even treat them like, I don't know, humans, and I'm sure they appreciate that…God knows they've had little enough treatment like that. So I treat them like people. Some are decent- or sane- enough to do the same to me. All I know is that I've made no obvious enemies in that damned place, an accomplishment that few or no guards in my sector have ever obtained. Hell, the Riddler hasn't even been out of the asylum since I've been working there. BUT as soon as they've decided that I'm 'too cozy' with some super villain or another, they go and give me my notice for the big boot at the end of the year. Gratitude? Appreciation? No, I just think they don't like that I, a woman, have done a halfway decent job at my, well, job." I let out a breath. "Sorry, I just…" I ran my fingers through my bangs. "Gah, I just…needed to rant. Sorry…" I smiled sheepishly at Selina.

She smiled back. "It's perfectly fine, Allana," she reassured me. Then she gave a small laugh. "I think I've told you before that I find your little rants entertaining, didn't I?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah…"

We finished our drinks and she flagged down the waiter. "Just let me know what's going on with your job as it happens, okay?" She said. "I gave you my phone number for a reason, you know."

I rolled my eyes again. "I gotcha…Same time next week?" I stood up to leave, and she gave me a small smile.

"Maybe sooner, love, maybe sooner."

0o0o0

Edward sat in his cell, reveling in the rare silence that had overcome his little corner of the Asylum. Crane had escaped the day after the riot, which didn't surprise Edward in the slightest. Before he took his leave, however, Crane gave Edward a little…parting gift of sorts.

Allana B. Blue's file.

He shuffled through about two thirds of the folder, skimming information on her childhood, her family life, etc. How she'd evidently been quite the trouble maker in school, (entertaining) how she had difficulty communicating with straightforward men (interesting), how she apparently viewed the word through a sort of warped and twisted lens (something he'd figured out in his first actual conversation with the woman), and how she seemed more of an escapist that lived in a fantasy world (which was something he'd figured when she spoke so enthusiastically about the draconic beings that she loved so much).

The reasons behind these things.

These were missing.

Sure, there were little tid-bits where she'd told her analyzer about how her father had enjoyed playing puzzle games with Allana, but they were not nearly enough to explain her. The information was incomplete, insufficient, and he wanted to know more.

There was a riddle in Allana, and he'd yet to hear all the words of it.

0o0o0

*Elsewhere in Gotham City…*

The man commonly known as Scarecrow fiddled with his potions and poisons.

"Just a touch of this-and-that and we may turn this Blue to Black…"

I love you all.

~BattyKatt.