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Chapter Text

The rest of Stephanie’s day had not been full of mourning and reflection, but instead frantic spiraling and demands for answers. After initially not having any idea how Crystal’s body had gone missing, the GCPD had finally received a call from the hearse driver, who had been run off the road, tied up behind a gas station, and left to be discovered by a kindly homeless man. Whoever had stolen Crystal’s body had replaced the driver and coffin. Someone with resources. The biggest players in Gotham crime right now were The Doubles and Sal Maroni’s syndicate. But why would either of them want anyone’s dead body, let alone the wife of a washed up gameshow host?

Also in question was whether this was related to other grave robberies. It certainly didn’t fit the same method, but it did fit the pattern of being a parent of one of the Gotham Knights. Was it coincidence or was it just more convenient than waiting to exhume her themselves? And how did mystery man and the theft of the journal fit into it? Was he the grave robber? Or entirely unrelated?

The whole thing was making Duela’s head hurt. What sort of leverage did dead bodies give someone over the knights? They were…well, dead. Yes, Steph’s reaction certainly showed the emotional turmoil it could cause, but what was the point? While Cullen, Brody, and Carrie were very focused on this issue, Duela and Harper had gotten Steph home for a much needed shower.

Steph, emotionally exhausted, hadn’t fought the issue. But she didn’t hold hands with Harper or say much on the way back. Harper had even thanked Duela, tried to hug her but been turned away since she was covered in dirt, and turned to join Steph in the shower only to have Steph shut the door, almost in her face. She’d turned and looked at Duela in shock.

“She loves our showers.”

“Wait you guys do that all the time?” She’d asked.

“It’s hot.” Shrugged Harper. “And we don’t have…a lot of hot water here.”

“I don’t need the details.”

“Hey, I had to hear all about the night of the bat wang.” They’d both laughed at that, a good feeling after such an absurd day. Now they stood in the apartment’s tiny kitchen, waiting for Steph to get done so Harper could clean up.

“I felt like I had her back for a moment today.” Harper said. “Really back. What does that say about me? The happiest I felt in a week was at my girlfriend’s mom’s funeral, while she cried her eyes out.”

“Well, you’re aware of that, so I guess you just…miss the connection.” Duela reassured her. “Take it from someone that’s fairly new to the ‘caring about others’ thing, you’re doing fine, Harper Row. Here’s the thing about losing someone. When it’s pretty fresh you don’t feel like you deserve to feel joy. Like, you’re betraying that person. You have to be sad, because if you’re not, then maybe you didn’t lo-“ Duela stopped herself from using the word. “You didn’t care about them as much as you think you did. And if you have to be sad to respect them…you’re going to make everyone around you sad. So if you’re also angry...you’re going to hurt the people around you. I think…Steph doesn’t want her emotions to hurt you.”

“But by pulling away, she’s doing that anyway.” Harper said. “I can’t blame her for that either. I have to let her grieve.”

“Don’t let her.” Duela said.

“Excuse me”

“Look when we lost…Turner. I didn’t let myself grieve with any of you. I pushed you all away from that part of myself. Except Brody, because I didn’t know him. What did I care if I infected him with my grief and anger? The thing is, Brody being there really helped. He didn’t let me completely fall into myself. We can’t let Stephanie do that.”

“Wow.” Harper marveled. “You are so different from the little anarchist I used to rob convenience stores with.”

“Screw you.” Duela frowned but couldn’t help the smile peeking through beneath. “Maybe she needs a Brody.”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” Duela asked looking Harper in the eyes.

“Mostly?” Harper said with a grimace.

“Maybe you’re so close to her to that you can’t get through. Let me try. I kept her at arm’s length for a long time.” Duela wanted to help, really help Stephanie. Not just hit people with a bat, or do whatever the GCPD gave them to do. Maybe she could do this. Plus, she had a suspicion there was something else going on here. Something Harper might not grasp, but Duela could.

“What do you propose?” Harper asked skeptically, narrowing her eyes.

“You leave that to me.” Duela grinned wickedly.

“Yeah, that’s reassuring.”

“I’m done, Harp.” Stephanie said, entering the kitchen with a robe on and her hair up in a towel. Duela skipped over and grabbed her by the hand.

“Let’s get dressed and dry that hair, we are going out!”

“Wha- Duela, I really-“

“I’m not taking no for an answer. We are giving your mind a break! Just us!”

Stephanie looked over to Harper for help, but she just shrugged and smiled as Duela dragged her down the hall.

“So what exactly are we going to do?” Steph asked Duela anxiously as the other girl pulled her through the streets of downtown. Stephanie had picked out a sensible white shirt and blue jeans with a cream jacket. Duela had scoffed and replaced it with a dark purple dress that shimmered in the light and had a neckline that plunged just a tad bit more than Steph was truly comfortable with. Oh, Steph had tried to say no, say that she was tired, suggest another night, but Duela was on a mission and Stephanie figured maybe the quickest way to get this over with was to just let Duela get whatever this was out of her system.

“Whatever we want! But we are NOT going to talk about being members of the missing dead mom club or how our dads are giant tools!”

“That’s like half the things we have in common.” Steph said, though she knew she was exaggerating.

Duela pulled them into a bar, both flashing their fake IDs expertly made by Harper. Duela marched to the bar and demanded two “Bat signals” a special themed shot of something yellow with something dark.

“That’s what this night is? Lots of drinking?”

“Off and on.” Duela said, handing a shot to Steph. “But it’s a social lubricant.”   

“And a depressant.” Steph pointed out. “Maybe not a great idea.”

“You jumped into your mom’s grave today after almost strangling your father and you don’t need a drink?” Duela raised an eyebrow.

Steph was a bit taken aback, but nodded. “When you put it like that…” She tipped back the glass and downed the shot. Duela whooped.

“There she is!”

Steph gasped and coughed as the drink burned its way down her throat.

“Oh my god! That is horrible!”

“It’s the worst!” Duela declared cheerfully, downing her own shot and coughing while laughing. Steph stared at her, at this weird, harlequin ball of chaos that she admittedly had been trying to be better friends with since Turner’s death. And she couldn’t stop the smile that crept over her lips and turned into a full on laugh.

“And we’re off!” Duela declared. “We should start with axe throwing before we get too tipsy!”

(Song Insert: “Bad Decisions” by RedHook.  This plays like a montage scene.)

And so they went axe throwing. Duela was frighteningly good at it. Steph was less experienced with that particular weapon and after a few tries she accidentally bounced it back and it almost hit a guy behind her. That guy demanded an apology, which Steph was perfectly willing to give, but Duela decided to chase him with an axe instead, which got them thrown out.

Then another bar. A few more drinks. Steph had a tasty raspberry rum. Duela got into an argument with another guy over playing songs on the jukebox. She relented and let him play his songs, but then hurled an axe she somehow still had into the jukebox. She grabbed Steph by the hand as she quickly sucked up the rest of her rum and the proprietor chased them out.

Then it was time for karaoke! They sang a duet of “Lights On” by Yours Truly, had a few light beers, laughed at some guy’s very bad rendition of “Piano Man”, hurriedly apologized when he started crying, than sang “Rocket Man” with him. The comradery ended when he grabbed Duela’s ass and she socked him in the jaw. Steph scolded the man while Duela picked his pocket.

They went to another bar next and had daiquiris. Duela started to get a bit Coyote Ugly on the bar and Steph desperately tried to pull her down as Duela tried to bring her up. They both ended up falling onto the ground, doubled over with laughter. Duela lost her beret here and blamed some random girl inexplicably also wearing a black beret. Steph convinced Duela the girl was not the culprit and Duela returned the purse she stole, but mischievously revealed to Steph out on the street there had been joints in the purse.

Steph steadfastly refused to smoke the joints.

They went to a street carnival where they ate meat kebobs and played the ring toss game, which Duela claimed was rigged. They eventually guilted the vendor into giving them a giant panda bear by revealing the incidents at the funeral and making him very uncomfortable as Steph pouted up at him. Duela convinced some kids that she was a witch and that at midnight they would all turn into stuffed animals like her friend Peter the Panda. When one kid decided to question if Peter had actually been a real person, Duela pulled a “magic trick” involving a few hot dogs, ketchup, and gutting poor Peter with her switchblade as Steph looked on with wide eyes and the children screamed.

On the way to a dance club, a man tried to rob them at knifepoint. They took turns kicking him in the balls and Duela stole his knife. They took a selfie with him, peace fingers out.

At the club, Steph insisted this would be the last drink. Duela agreed. Three drinks later they stumbled out holding each other and giggling incessantly. They smoked the joints. Steph coughed a lot. They laughed some more and made up narratives for people on the street. They got some coffee to sober up a bit and got very impatient waiting in the line for the bathroom there and Steph had to stop Duela from crying “Fire” to clear the place out.

They got the munchies and Duela insisted they eat in style. This is how Steph and Duela found themselves in the Iceberg Lounge, gaining entry by Steph hacking into the waiting list with her phone and presenting themselves as Galavan, party of two.    

Steph sipped on her sparkling water and took another bite of her chicken marsala. This was a classy establishment and Steph, though definitely a bit under the influence, used her utensils and napkin properly. Duela chomped on an order of ribs and occasionally wiped the sauce away from her mouth with her bare hand. Stephanie was amazed at how Duela both possessed an undeniable flair for style and fashion but also conducted herself like a starving gremlin. But Duela didn’t grow up in a household of means like Stephanie. She’d split her childhood among Arkham, a few bad foster homes, and the streets. So yeah, let her pig out when she wanted, let the rich people gawk. She’d had nights where she’d gone to bed hungry and had probably learned to fill up when she could. Harper and Cullen had also lived that way, even if for a shorter time than Duela. Stephanie lost awareness of that more than she liked.

“Thanks, Duela.” Steph said out of nowhere.

“For?” Duela said, fishing for an answer.

“For…showing me Gotham in a new light. Taking my mind off things for a bit. Petty larceny. Take your pick.”

“Well, I got pretty good at running from my feelings.” Duela said through a full mouth as she wolfed down her meal. “Harper loves you. But she wants things to be better for you so much that she doesn’t know how to just…let you feel what you have to.”

“Which did we do for you?” Steph asked.

“Neither. You tried, but I pushed you away. I couldn’t bear to…see that joy you had all the time. But that’s on me.”

“And how are things now?”

“Okay, we need to get you another drink, I’m not dining with Dr. Brown.” Duela started to flag down a serving girl in a penguin themed bodysuit, but Steph reached over the table and pulled her hand down.

“Oh, I’ve had enough. Up until a few minutes ago there were two of you.”

“The world should be so lucky. I’m fabulous.” Duela took another bite. They both giggled. Duela’s mood seemed to change a bit and she said “You’re really lucky to have her, you know.”

“I do.” Steph said. “But I hurt her. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt her again. I can’t punish her for loving me. Like…like my dad does.”

“That’s a completely different story.” Duela insisted. “You’re nothing like your dad, Steph.”

“That is…really not true.” Steph said, taking another sip of water.

“Take the messed up parent part of it out of it. You remember when you first kissed Harper? What were you thinking in that moment?”

Steph smiled. “I remember thinking ‘Oh. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.’ It was completely different from kissing Brody or Turner.”

Duela abruptly choked on her food. “What now?”

“Well with them it- oh.” Steph realized what she’d revealed to Duela, something she’d decided not to ever tell her, because all it could do was hurt her. Stupid alcohol. “It was one kiss. One time. And I knew, we knew really, that there wasn’t any kind of spark.”

“Oh, so before Brody.”

Steph smiled and nodded, but Duela could see right through it apparently.

“So after Brody. When was this?” Perhaps realizing she looked a bit crazed, Duela sat back and used the napkins to clean her hands. “Not that it’s a big deal anyway.”

“Duela, we don’t have to-“

“Can you please just tell me?” She asked softly not meeting Steph’s eyes. Steph didn’t want to, but the subject had been broached. Too late to go back. Either because of that or still being tipsy, she told her.

“It was a little kiss. Not like passionate or anything. It was…when he had the electrum poisoning.”

Duela sat for a minute with this information. “So like…hours before we…” It seemed to strike her hard. Steph thought she saw tears forming.

“No, Duela, whatever you’re thinking-“

“It’s fine.” Duela said. The walls had shot up again, a hardness in her eyes hiding behind the mischief. “It’s not like we said we were exclusive or defined the relationship. We hooked up a bunch. Maybe it would’ve been something more. We didn’t get to find out. It happens.”

“Duela-“ Before Steph could try to explain further, a towering blond man in a flowing coat approached the table.

“Do I have to give the hostess’ your picture to keep you out, Miss Doe?”

“Iggy! How’s business going? My compliments to the chef, these ribs are fire.” Con artist Duela had snapped back in seconds.

“I won’t have you pilfering the pockets of my patrons.” Ignatius Ogilvy said through gritted teeth.

“Alleged pilfering!” Duela corrected him. “Nice alliteration by the way. Very supervillain. Oswald would be proud.”

“I also won’t have my liquor license put in jeopardy by meddling minors!”

“Oh come on, you know you’re good for the bribe, Iggy!” Duela kicked her feet up on the table and Ignatius immediately pushed them back down.

“Sir, we did all our drinking before we got here, I assure you.” Steph said.

“And you!” Ignatius hissed, turning to Steph. “You don’t look like Theo Galavan of the Order of Saint Dumas!” He pointed behind him, where a well-dressed middle aged man stood arm in arm with a pretty brunette. Steph was fairly certain it was Sofia Falcone, but they both looked a little blurry. “In fact, I’m fairly certain I attended your mother’s funeral today. She was a former regular. Mourning period over already?”

“Okay, you got us.” Duela sighed, moving before Steph could respond. She slapped a credit card on the table. “Their meal’s on us. Well, Piano Man. I’d definitely work on your service though, Emperor Penguin.”

Ignatius grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her close to his face.

“I do NOT like that nickname.” He breathed in Duela’s face and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “And if your father hadn’t put a hands off order on you, I’d take you in the back and crack you with the lobsters myself.”

“Let her go.” Steph whispered, poking Ignatius with the taser she kept in her purse. “We’re leaving. No need to make a scene. Right?” Ignatius looked like he wanted to hit her, but he took a breath, composed himself, and let Duela go.

“My apologies.” He said, eyeing the other diners. “This one can get under the skin of the best of us. I’m sure you understand.” Steph and Duela made their way to the exit, Duela flipping the bird to most of the clientele and grabbing a shrimp off of a man’s plate. Steph noticed Ignatius dialing a number on his phone.

“Let’s get out of here.” She told Duela.

Once outside, Duela skipped along the concrete headers of the valet parking.

“Where next?” She asked.

“Duela, I really think we…”

“No. Nope.” Duela shook a finger at her. “We came out here for you, we’re not talking about my sad stuff, remember?”

“I’m sorry I never told you. I just-“

“Lalalalala.” Duela covered her ears with her hands.

“Alcohol makes you really mature.” Steph said sarcastically.

“And it makes you honest.” Duela grinned. “So where? Cause I bet you weren’t about to say home.”

“I…” She was right. Steph was tired. She was inebriated. She was ever so slightly high. She was emotionally maxed. And the last place she wanted to go was back to Harper.

“You barely resisted when I dragged you out here. What’s stopping you from being home? Don’t think, just say it, why? Why?”

“I need to be her again!” Steph blurted. “The Steph she fell in love with. And I don’t know how to get back to her.”

“You don’t have to. You just-“

“Ladies, you wouldn’t be interested in something to take the edge off, would you?” A young man interrupted them. He walked up with his coat slightly open, displaying a bag of pills. The girls turned to look at him. Duela opened her mouth to say something but stopped as she and the man recognized each other.

“Uh, my mistake.” He tried to turn and walk away briskly, but Duela grabbed his arm and linked it with hers.

“If it isn’t Dylan McKillan!” She said. “Stephanie, you haven’t met Dylan, but he used to knock boots with your girlfriend and launder cash for the Court of Owls!”

“I’ve heard of him.” Steph said unenthusiastically.

“Keep it down!” He hissed frantically.

“Dylan, its fine. There are no more Talons to come chop off your head.” Dylan continued to squirm nervously and Duela narrowed her eyes. “But that’s not who you’re afraid of these days, is it?” She reached inside his coat and danced away holding up the bag stuffed with smaller bags of pills. “Dylan’s in the drug game now.” She tossed the bag over Dylan’s head and frantic hands. Steph caught it, barely. Still a bit drunk.

“It’s not like the family had any choice after your crew ran the Court out of Gotham.” Dylan explained.

“I think the words you were trying to say were ‘Thank you Duela for not letting a building collapse on me’. Go ahead, you try.”

Steph looked the pills over in her hand. They were white and oblong, with a “D” stamped in the middle. “Doubles.” She realized out loud.

“Yeah. And Mr. Dent expects a consistent cash flow, so if you could just give those back, we can all go-“

“You approaching just anybody?” Duela asked. “Seems like a good way to get stung.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“I’ll tell my dad you hit me. Maybe you even got a little handsy.” Duela smiled innocently and held her hands under her chin.

“Okay, calm down, Monster High.” Dylan sneered. “First time customers, it’s a special menu item. They order it, I get a text with a description. Regulars, I just approach if they go to the car and don’t use the valet.”

“Wait, so you thought-“

“I thought she was a lady from last week.” Dylan nodded toward Steph. She felt her heart start to pick up speed. She pulled out her phone and brought up a picture of her mom.

“Was this her? Did you sell to her?” Stephanie shoved the phone in Dylan’s face.

“Yeah, yeah! That’s her! Came here with her husband, that game show guy!”

Steph tackled Dylan and let out a pained roar. Before he could make sense of what was happening, Stephanie was punching him, again and again. “She died! Your drugs killed her!” Steph raised her fist and Dylan covered his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry! I just sell!”

Steph let out another scream of rage, her upheld fist shaking. She looked over at Duela, who was leaning against a Lamborghini with her arms crossed.

“What? You waiting for me to stop you? I don’t care. Wail away.”

Steph started pounding against Dylan’s hands, her vision alternating as she blinked away tears. She thought it would feel good. It just felt like more anger. She looked over at Duela again.

“Come on!” Duela goaded her on. “He’s like a third of the reason your mom’s dead! Stomp him out!”

Steph looked back at Dylan, at this pathetic peddler of death, cowering before her. She stood up and screamed and slammed her foot down. Next to his head. Steph took the bag of pills and ripped it open. The Iceberg Lounge was a waterfront establishment. Stephanie ran to the water’s edge and started tossing the pills in, a handful at a time, screaming and crying. When the baggie was empty she fell to her knees. She felt Duela’s arms around her.

“I couldn’t do it.” She sobbed, leaning into the space between Duela’s head and shoulder.

“So why do you think you’re going to hurt Harper, when you couldn’t even put Dylan McKillan into an ER?”

“Because I’m so….angry!”

“Angry at who?” Duela probed, knowing the answer.

“At….” Steph thought about all the people responsible. Dylan. Her father. Two-Face, for having the drugs sold. But there was one other person. “At her. At my mom!” Steph started sobbing now. “I’m so mad at her! She threw it all away! But…but...”

“But she’s the one that died.” Duela finished, her own voice wavering. “So you can’t be mad at her, right? Who gets mad at the victim? But Steph, listen to me.” Duela pushed her back slightly to look her in the eyes. Tears were falling down her face too.

“I know exactly what you’re feeling, Steph. You lost her and it feels like this big part of you is gone, but you can’t even mourn her right, because she made a choice. She chose something else over you. She let you go. You’re allowed to be mad at her, Steph. Okay? You’re allowed to be mad.”

They sat there, holding each other, crying it out, for many long minutes. And the empty hole inside Steph that she thought was supposed to be filled with happy memories and the dutiful tears of a mourning daughter, got just the littlest bit smaller.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about dead mom club.” Steph said softly after a while. Duela half chuckled, half sobbed.

“You know who else is a member of dead mom club?” Duela asked. Suddenly there was nothing more important to Stephanie than getting to Harper.

“I have to go home.” She said.

“I already called you an Uber.” Duela said. She handed Steph another phone. “Picked Dylan’s burner off him. Doubt there’s anything we can use, but maybe some tech girl magic will prove me wrong.”

Steph took the phone and wrapped Duela into another massive hug.

“Okay, but we’re not making hugs our thing, right? Right?”

Duela wished Steph a good night, closed the door to the Prius, and walked over to the driver’s side, knocking on the window. The driver, a man maybe in this thirties but with thinning hair, lowered the window.

“I’m sure you’re a highly rated gentleman for a reason, but this is Gotham, so I gotta be sure. Do you know who I am?” The man had a look of recognition, but moved his jaw like a cartoon character spinning their legs in place. “It’s okay. Go ahead, say it.”

“You’re the Joker’s Daughter.” He said, clearly scared.

“Right. And if my friend doesn’t get home completely safe and untaken advantage of-“ Duela flicked out the switchblade. “-I’ll find you and carve your face off and wear it like a mask. Cool?”

The driver nodded furiously.

“Good. Off you go. Don’t speed, she’s a little dizzy.” She said perkily, although she already felt the trickles of a hangover creeping in. The car drove off, Steph and Duela waving at each other.

Dylan had long ago scampered off like the rodent he was. Ignatius hadn’t sent any goons her way. The clock tower wasn’t too far of a trek. Duela could use a shower, but that could wait until the morning. She should probably pick up a few Venoms on her way back. She’d need them once she awoke. She was pretty sure there was a 24 hour shop on the way. Right? Well, if there wasn’t she knew how to pick a lock. She could leave a few bucks on the counter. Maybe. They were overpriced anyway.

She felt good about the night with Steph. She had helped someone, without throwing a punch. Well, Steph had thrown some punches. Technicalities.  She’d recognized the exact brand of anger Steph was feeling when she saw her attack Arthur at the funeral. Which was justified, of course. The guy was a douchebag. But it had taken Duela months to rectify her anger at her own mother, on top of mourning Turner. Duela thought she could help Steph reach the conclusion earlier. But she had to arrive at it on her own. Dylan had not been planned, but he’d certainly sped things up, and right after Duela had almost derailed things after hearing about the kiss.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Their time together was still precious to her. When he used her own words back on her, “Not Offended”, when freeing her from the bomb, it was real. She knew that. But…the fact that he’d apparently wanted to kiss Stephanie, DID kiss Stephanie, when he thought he was dying…did that make her the next best thing? A passion of opportunity? Turner had been in a dark place when they first got together, angry at Carrie, Cullen, maybe even Stephanie. How much of that night together had been genuine affection and how much was a response to the circumstances around them? They were two people who couldn’t possibly have ended up with each other had events not forced them together. The very next day they had angrily walked away from each other.

What if her own memories and feelings of that time weren’t to be trusted? Maybe they were just dumb, horny kids and Turner’s death had made her romanticize his memory? She’d turned a night of happy friction in the library into a fairy tale novel. Would they even still be with each other today? Because she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have stayed as one of the Knights without his loss. She would’ve done what she always did when people got too close: run. Turner was the safest person to turn into the love of her life. Because he was already dead.

She felt the tears coming again. She was so tired of the sadness, tired of patching up that drywall just for the feelings to kick through it what felt like every night.

“Get it together, Due.” She whispered to herself. Shadows started to approach under streetlights. Four of them.  “I’m really not in the mood, guys.”

One of the four stepped closer and Duela got a better look at his face.

“Leggy? You make bail?” She squinted to tighten her vision. Yeah, that was him, complete with a few bruises on his face that matched her lace up boots.

“My name Is Lester.” He said exasperated. “Looks like the Emperor’s tip was good. Your dad wants a word.”

“Tonight’s not great. I’m kind of maxed out emotionally, but let me give you my number and he can call me after a nap and some Excedrin.” Duela made to rummage through her purse, but pulled out her middle finger.

“Get her. Taze her if you have too. I’m sick of her.” Lester commanded. The other Doubles moved in on Duela. She smacked one in the face with her purse and stepped on the foot of another. The third got his arms around her from behind and she threw her head back, her skull making a clunking noise against his jaw. They separated, both feeling pain from the strike. One of the others grabbed her arm and she dropped to the ground, pulling him down into the crackle of another’s taser. She felt the jolt too and jerked away, but now the other one and Lester each had an arm. She tried to slip their grasp, but felt slower and weaker, senses dulled slightly by the alcohol. In fact, her vision must still be affected. Because she was seeing five guys now.

The fifth, who had dramatically jumped from a fire escape, swung around the lamppost and kicked Lester in the chest. Duela broke away from her other captor, elbowing him in the stomach, and started to run. She stopped when she realized this was the mystery man, clad in black from head to toe, with what looked like a sword strapped to his back.

The Mystery Man dodged a punch from a double with ease and struck out with his own punch, hitting the thug in the cheek. The Double staggered back, dazed, and Mystery Man kicked him the back, sending him sprawling on his friend still twitching from the taser.

“Go!” Mystery Man commanded her. But Duela did not go. This was her chance to find out who he was. Lester went for Mystery Man while the remaining thug pulled out another taser and made for Duela. She made a decision at that point. This was the second time Mystery Man had saved her from abduction. She trusted he’d stop the guy with the taser.

As Mystery Man chopped Lester in the throat and kicked out his knee, he saw that Duela was ignoring her own threat and pivoted to grab the forearm of the Double with the taser and redirected the man to shock himself in the throat. While he was doing that, Duela grabbed the black head covering and pulled it off.

She gasped and her heart skipped quite a few beats. She was looking into the face of Turner Hayes.