The girls held their meeting inside the invisible barrier wrapped around the flying carpet. No matter what they said or how much noise they made, no one outside could hear them. That was the power of magic.
So Batwoman and Hit-Girl in the warehouse continued searching for the skull of those so-called Acolytes.
More precisely, the Dark Man did nothing at all. He merely stood in a shadowy corner with his arms folded, while the skinny little girl did all the work. With her tiny little radish head-like frame, she looked like some pitiful child laborer being exploited.
Yet she herself was delighted, constantly chattering nonsense.
"Batwoman, I like omelets with ketchup. What about you? Of all the dishes Grandpa Butler usually makes, which one do you like best?"
"Batwoman, you have so much money, so why not build an army? Wouldn't it be easier to just put Gotham under military rule?"
"Batwoman, who do you like better, Catwoman or Talia? And which Robin is your favorite?"
Like every delirious fan who met their idol, she had all sorts of questions. She was determined to seize every chance to clear up her doubts and satisfy her curiosity.
But she was not asking for herself. She was asking on Big Daddy's behalf. Her dead father's worship of Batwoman had run deep into his bones. As a good girl, she wanted to ask the questions her father had carried in life, then tell Big Daddy about the answers at his grave so he could hear them in heaven.
She had not actually expected to get any answers, because everyone knew Batwoman did not like answering questions.
What she did not know was that the Batman who had appeared today was a fake—and a prankster at that. He actually answered her from the