Diana had gathered people in Gotham, preparing to protect the various speedsters, but although she had assembled most of the Justice League's members, the city's original master was conspicuously absent.
Batwoman had not come again—or rather, after returning to Earth-0 to heal her injuries, she had vanished once more.
If she wanted to avoid everyone's eyes, then almost no Superhero's methods could possibly find her.
The only solution would be to kidnap someone close to her, such as Alfred or Damian, hold blades to the hostages' throats, set a limited time, and kill them when time ran out, forcing Batman to come looking for you.
But that was not something heroes could do.
So where exactly was Batwoman now? She was actually in Gotham too, sitting in the Batcave and using Brother Eye to monitor the heroes' every move, her eyes narrowed.
"You look much more stable now. Is anyone still talking in your head?"
Dr. Quinzel, with her short hair, asked this question. She and Jack sat at the workbench a short distance behind Batman, with the dutiful butler beside them. They were enjoying a late-night tea spread.
Darjeeling black tea paired with freshly baked scones was a fine comfort on a cold night.
Even in the dead of night, the butler showed not the slightest trace of fatigue. His clothes were immaculate, his hair combed perfectly into place, and he held the tray in one hand as he reservedly accepted Jack's praise for his craftsmanship, attributing it all to "what a qualified butler should do."
Batwoman did not turn her head as her deep voice rang out. "I'm much better. Though I can still sense the Joker's presence, your medicine has temporarily suppressed him. I need to use this quiet time to reassess my plans."
"But Deathstroke said