Batwoman's consciousness was gradually pulled back from the tide of memories, and he finally heard Trench Coat Fighter calling to him.
"I'm fine."
He answered in a hoarse voice. Although the voice modulator altered his tone, there was nothing in his manner that could be called fine.
Trench Coat Fighter rapidly patted his chest and took an exaggerated breath before pulling the needle from Batwoman's waist.
"I gave you Demerol. Military morphine would've been more appropriate for this situation, but I couldn't get any. The dose was fairly large, but I don't think addiction will be a problem for you."
Batwoman nodded and moved away from the wall. Though he was still affected by the hallucinations, the auditory hallucinations had vanished, and he had regained normal mobility.
At the same time, the large dose of Demerol suppressed the pain. Trench Coat Fighter had chosen the right drug and used it at the right time.
"Good work."
He offered the cold praise. That was Batwoman's way of saying thanks.
Trench Coat Fighter hunched his shoulders, looking as though he didn't deserve the praise, and changed the subject. "Are you sure you still want to go in? You're really not in good shape. Why do you have to deal with Joker right now?"
"He's too dangerous. I can't let him leave my sight." Batwoman's mouth turned downward again.
"But the world is facing so many threats right now. Does he really rank that high in priority?" Trench Coat Fighter pulled several more doses of Demerol from his pocket, intending to give them to Batwoman.
Batwoman pushed his hand back. He had better medicine himself; he had simply lost mobility so suddenly earlier that he couldn't retrieve anything from his belt.
As for Trench Coat Fighter's question, he merely answered calmly, "At least,