Profession

Family get togethers

The next day, I just kind of took things easy. I had selected a photograph from the princess' photo shoot, one where both her will and her intelligence came through, as well as a hint of humor. The court dress was exquisite on her, and her red hair, a natural color unlike my own, showed up beautifully. I'd taken it to a framing shop in London that had been recommended by the palace both for the quality of the work and the discretion of the employees, and it had been sent here. I should have bargained for the right to display a print in each of my studios, but I felt that it would be more impressive here. Americans are very interested in monarchies, even if we don't have one, and I could always send it over later. The photograph was pretty awesome, not to brag, and the framers had done a great job. The pups and I jaunted over to the studio after sleeping in, had brunch, went to the groomer so they could look spiffy at the family Thanksgiving, played on the computer some, and that night the Vigi-friends came over to update me. We popped popcorn and played some games before congregating for talk.

"So, first up, congrats on completing your nursing degree," Imogen said, raising her beer bottle to me. The others followed suit, and I smiled. "And that award is pretty major. It's nice that somebody outside our group recognizes all the hurdles you've overcome."

"It was a surprise, but a nice one. My advisor told me today that the faculty committee thought that one of the hurdles I had to overcome was the family. Not in a mean way, but they recognized that the name can be a burden as well as a resource. So for that, I'm grateful," I said. "I know it sounds like 'poor little rich girl' a lot, but my life hasn't been the cake walk most people assume it would be, even if there are so many people out there who have it tougher."

"And Arkham," Jinx said, shaking his head. "You survived a whole month there and an attempted prisoner breakout. Up the elevator shaft." He chuckled. "It's like out of a suspense story."

"Patients," I corrected. "Yeah, some of them are homicidal or suicidal, but they're not prisoners." Jinx arched an eyebrow at me.

"That's not what Dad said."

"We all know that the supervillains treated Arkham like a waystation while they rested and recovered, then they broke out pretty much at will. There are only a few of them who should legitimately be there, and Penguin was not one of them,"  I said sternly. Jinx conceded the point.

We chatted a little more about the ceremony, and Nix presented me with a black bag with a large red cross embroidered on one side, my name embroidered in block letters underneath that, and the college's coat of arms on the other side. It was a field kit for nurses on disaster teams, fully equipped. "We thought that you should have it now. Graduation's next month, but you did the work and that's been recognized." I had to clear my throat.

"Thank you.  This means a lot to me."

"Well, it's kind of selfish too, now you're fully equipped to pull our fat out of the fire." Mark's voice was light, but then he frowned. "We've managed to confirm Scarecrow's there. We're preparing the package for the police. We don't even want to go near the place; Nix's dad gave us an air quality monitor, no questions asked. It's off the chart for common solvents, high purity, as well as a lot of organic compounds. And this is just walking by. God knows what's going on inside. I had an anxiety attack just going past. I've never had one before. But it explains why there's no foot traffic on that side of the street."  We discussed that, what the cockroaches had seen for us. Basically, a whole lot of lab equipment, brand spanking new and expensive, a guy running around with a burlap bag over his head, and human test subjects.

"We've got to move on this," Mark said. "This can't be allowed to continue. We've got to get those poor people out of there."

"The package isn't as complete as it was for Professor Pyg," Jinx said. "But let's put it to a vote. Do we wait and produce the same level of detail, or do we go now?" We voted, and it was unanimous. We felt like there was enough evidence to send it now. It was probably too late for the poor people inside there, but we couldn't leave them any longer. Jinx had gone down to retrieve an exterior security camera and his modified cockroaches and discovered that they were contaminated with whatever hellish compounds the Scarecrow was working on. He sent them down to the sewers instead, waiting for our next target, the Joker. And Harley. "It might not be a bad thing for them to exposed to the toxin," Jinx said, surprising me. "They can take what they've been dishing out." Jinx and Ari had all the evidence; they'd very carefully packaged it up at the Museum of Modern Art to minimize trace evidence, and on the way home, they'd hire one of the people who stubbornly remained homeless, despite the availability of aid, to run it into the police station. The precinct where Uncle Richard worked was between our two places, and Imogen would follow the person in to make sure it was delivered, and say hi to her dad. They were coming out to dinner tomorrow, maybe. Uncle Richard might just have gotten a little busier.