"Does any of this stuff actually work? He looks pretty much the same as when you started."
Sitting behind the little table and sneaking mouthful after mouthful of Zuo Ci's thinly sliced fatty beef, Poison Ivy couldn't help complaining as she looked at the listless giant bat opposite her.
At that moment, Zuo Ci had the giant bat securely bound to a cross, with a dozen yellow talismans stuck to his forehead, a string of prayer beads carved all over with scripture around his neck, and pages from the Quran plastered over his entire body.
Honestly, no matter how you looked at it, this hardly seemed like a proper exorcism.
"Says who? Can't you see he's calmed down a lot?"
Zuo Ci's outfit was equally absurd. He wore a little white cap, held a peachwood sword in his left hand and a prayer wheel in his right, and had a Bible-shaped speaker hanging against his chest, endlessly playing hymns.
Honestly, Poison Ivy felt that if anyone saw him dressed like this, every religion would band together to tear him apart.
Religious unity in Westland was apparently riding entirely on his shoulders.
"Ahem. I don't think that means it's working. I think you've just tortured him into this state."
Having finished the beef, Poison Ivy picked up the plate of thinly sliced fatty lamb beside it.
Ah, life was wonderful.
"Hey, I refuse to believe this won't work."
Rolling up his sleeves, Zuo Ci was starting to get stubborn.
Since his earlier divination had failed, Zuo Ci suspected that someone from the magical side of things might have come to Gotham. So when he caught this giant bat, he had wondered if he might be some sort of magical creation.
But after all that effort, nothing had worked. It was truly