Legend

Surprisingly, I wasn't upset by McIver's call. I'd known that the Joker was out and probably seeking revenge; this was simply a start of the... I decided to call it the game. When I play games, I play to win. And If the Joker was out to get me, I was totally going to pwn him.

The first secret to a successful strategy is not to get cocky or overconfident. Or to panic. I knew that I was physically prepared; my fighting skills were a lot better than they were the last time I met the Joker, I'd improved in armed combat too, I still wore my pendant and nobody but a select, trusted few knew that it was anything more than a pretty piece of jewelry, I had new, awesome driving abilities and a tricked-out car to help me escape. I had a ring with a hidden sting, a tracker watch that was beyond state of the art, and I had backup--the Joker's worst enemy, my boyfriend, his brother, as well as my uncle and assorted superheroes. The negative was that if I was serious about Damian (I was) and was looking at marrying the man (I was) then I also had to buy into my prospective father-in-law's worldview, which meant that I couldn't kill the Joker. Bucky would be... not disappointed in me, but... something. He was from a harder school of life than Bruce was, in many ways. He'd think I was foolish, and maybe I was, because everybody knew that Arkham was just a temporary holding stage for the city's supervillains. They seemed to use it as a place to rest up, get medical care and room and board before strolling out and wreaking havoc again. But I really didn't want to kill anybody. If you can't bring yourself to kill in self-defense, I don't think you'll ever be able to do it. But thanks to my instructors, I knew a lot of ways to hurt somebody so badly that they might wish I had killed them. Was that more cruel or less?

I knew Bruce would put the Joker on his priority list, if only to keep his son reined in. The one I was worried about was Damian. He hated the Joker long before me, but what the Joker had done to me had just increased his hate. My plan was to be ready to confront the Joker on my terms. Not his, this time. For that I needed intelligence. I needed to know where he was and information about the number of his minions and how they were likely to fit into the Joker's own strategy. The second step in my overall plan was to confront the Joker, beat him to within an inch of his life, then call the ambulances. I needed to make very clear that he needed to look elsewhere for his target in the future. I also needed to impress his minion scum with the futility of coming after me themselves. To do that, I had to make the cost of such an attempt high. Epic, if possible.

I also needed to understand the Joker better, I realized. Guy was nutty as an almond farm, but I didn't know what was going on in his head. During a traffic jam, I did some quick research on my phone and found that Harley Quinn was still in Arkham. I looked up the visiting hours. Through all of this, I kept alert and continually checked the area around my car. I touched the buttons to Alfred's Bond devices, the bag with the water rescue equipment, the place on my messenger bag where I'd clipped the special pepper spray. I brought a couple of shuriken out of the center console and placed them where I could reach them immediately if there was trouble. I kept my hands relaxed and ready for self-defense.

As it happened, I made it home without any grinning nightmares accosting me. When I got to the door, Alfred wasn't there, which was a surprise. I tucked my bag away myself, and encountered him in the library. I was surprised to see a crowd of superheroes. Right, Bruce had explained that we were having guests. I'd forgotten. The Wayne contingent was the only one not in costume. But it was to be expected; the guests must know the bat family's alter egos. Even Damian was up and dressed and not too pale. He'd shaved off his beard scruff (good because it was prickly, bad because he looked dead sexy with it) and was dressed in the trousers from a suit and a dress shirt but no tie or suitcoat. Bruce had on a suit from work as did Barbara. Dick was more casual, like Damian.

"Oh, Miss Alex," Alfred said, and he seemed a little fussed. "I regret that you did not receive a proper greeting at the door this evening."

"It's not the end of the world," I said, and accepted a pre-dinner cocktail from him, welcoming the first cool sip, the bite of lime and ginger over the vodka of a Moscow Mule. It was a warm day and I'd been tense. I sighed in pleasure and looked up at the tall butler, winking. "Or is it that you still think I'm a guest?"

"I should say not--" he retorted, but Damian came up just then for a welcoming cuddle and kiss. Alfred smiled slightly and glided away.

"It's a bigger crowd than expected," he told me quietly. He took a sip of my drink, sighed, then kept his arm around me as he steered me to the first group. I recognized all of them, of course. "This is Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, and Flash," he told me. "Wonder Woman, gentlemen, this is my significant other, Alex Barnes."

"Pleased to meet you," Green Lantern rumbled in a rich bass.

"We haven't met, but you look familiar, somehow," Wonder Woman said, extending her hand, studying me keenly. Firm grip, but not one of those hand squisher ones.

"I believe you know my uncle," I said, recalling Bucky's story of the first alien invasion attempt. "Bucky Barnes."

Her eyes lit. "Ah, yes. The resemblance is around the eyes, mostly. And the hair color. A pleasure, Ms Barnes. I was unaware he had any family left."

"He didn't know at the time," I said. "I introduced myself later."

"That's nice," Flash said approvingly. "Do you see him much?"

"Most days. He's training me to take over his work as hand-to-hand instructor for the Avengers." The group inched in. Damian was trying not to laugh.

"Oh, the Avengers," Green Arrow said dismissively, like they were the waterboys to the Justice League's first string, varsity.

"They're a good bunch," I said lightly. "I work with Bucky in the morning and with Tony in the afternoons."

"Dilettante rich boy," Arrow grunted.

"I thought that was your job," Flash said, digging at him. Arrow's eyes narrowed. Our group was abruptly enlarged.

"Alex, I'd like to introduce Superman and Aquaman. This is my d-- uh, Alex is Damian's girlfriend." We shook hands. Superman was huge and solemn but not without humor, and Aquaman was elemental and gorgeous. If not for Damian, I'd be drooling. He must get that a lot.

"Hand to hand?" Green Arrow said, looking at me as if he found me wanting. I smiled cheerfully.

"I've still got a lot to learn, but Bucky's not retiring any time soon," I told him. DIck and Barbara joined the group with Black Canary and Zatanna.

"Well, you'd better be working hard," Arrow said dismissively. "Trouble's coming. Even an apprentice will be worth something."

"Bucky's been training me for about ten years," I said. "Off and on. I didn't get much training in grad school. You shouldn't mistake what I look like with what I can do." Flash looked calculating and rocketed into action. I tripped him, and shook my head at him from where he lay on the floor, rucking up one of the antique Persian carpets. "I train Quicksilver," I told him. "I can't say I know all the tricks of dealing with speedsters, but I know a few." I leaned over to give him a hand up.

"You must know Hawkeye," Green Arrow said in a superior manner.

"Love him and his dog. Both Hawkeyes taught me how to shoot when I was in high school," I said fondly. "It was for a gym class. I'm nowhere as good as they are, though. The senior Hawkeye is a pretty good brawler, but I'm also training the junior Hawkeye. It's always good to know how to defend yourself if your primary weapon is taken away or damaged."

"Dinner is served," Alfred chose to announce, and Damian and I brought up the rear of the stampede to the dining room. Apparently everybody was looking forward to Alfred's delicacies. Damian said he was feeling much better and optimistically said that he might go into work tomorrow. Well, we'd see how tonight went first. They were having their meeting after dinner, but that was fine because I had work of my own to do and I didn't mind doing it elsewhere. And now that Damian was no longer considered contagious, I'd vacated his old room and was going to sleep in our bed tonight.

Dinner was delicious, and I faded away after the coffee, taking a large mug upstairs after retrieving my bag. I wanted to get some studying done before I went to talk to Harley--that is, if she'd agree to talk to me. The great thing about digital publishing is that now kids can get their ruinously expensive college texts as ebooks. I found a basic psychology text and one on criminal psychology and started speed reading. The books were a big help. Based on what I'd seen of the Joker, I wouldn't classify him as psychotic because he didn't seem to hear voices or have visual hallucinations, didn't seem delusional. I was leaning toward a psychopath because of the lack of empathy or remorse, his antisocial behavior, and his bold egotism. Definitely antisocial disorder, I thought, flicking through the pages. A pervasive pattern of disregarding and violating the rights of others. An impoverished conscience and a history of crime, legal problems, and impulsive and aggressive behavior. Yep, totally the Joker. There was something called intermittent explosive disorder, characterized by explosive outbursts of anger and violence that are disproportionate to the situation at hand. That fit too. I shuddered and looked out the window. I was sitting in the turret, but all that glass made me feel too exposed all of a sudden, even though I was certain there was no one out there. I flicked the cover of the Kindle closed and picked up the throw that Bucky had knitted for me years ago and my empty mug. In the hall, I could hear faint voices from downstairs, so I took the back stairs, which went directly into the kitchen and had been the servants' stair, back when the owners had a lot of staff. I put the mug in the dishwasher and grabbed some brownies to take back upstairs. I was hungry a lot these days although I needed to work out more; my waistbands were getting tight.

I trotted back upstairs and into our room, closing the draperies and curling up on the couch to read the new Will Thomas. I liked reading the Victorian mysteries in this Victorian house and was several chapters in when I decided to go to bed. No telling how late Damian would be. But when I came out of the bathroom, he was there, undressing. Yum. I helped, just to cast an appreciative look over his body, then got into the bed while he hit the bathroom. "So what was new with you today? We didn't get to talk," he asked, yawning.

"Got a call today. Joker's supposed to be in the city or on his way," I said, curling up.

"WHAT?" Damian said loudly, sitting bolt upright. I sighed to myself.

"It doesn't really change anything," I said practically. "I've been keeping my guard up, especially when I'm not here or in the tower." Damian complained about me not telling him earlier (right. In front of all those other people who were there for the aliens) then tried to restrict me to the property.

I laughed, which wasn't perhaps the best approach as it just riled him up more. I refused, of course, reminded him of all my nifty skills and tricks. It took awhile to talk him down, and, grudgingly, he calmed down. "I'll tell Dad tomorrow," he yawned.