A Medical Question?

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Damon had one arm around Harleen's shoulders as he watched anger flare in Barbara's eyes.

She looked ready to tear into him.

He could not help laughing.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You take advantage of someone and then say she has nothing to do with you?" Barbara snapped. "You're an asshole. A scumbag. Human trash."

"Asshole, scumbag, human trash. All fair." Damon narrowed his eyes and smiled at Barbara. "But what does that have to do with you?"

He leaned back slightly.

"Why am I laughing? Because right now, you look less like you're standing up for her and more like a bitter ex I got bored with and threw away. I just cannot remember when I slept with you and abandoned you. Though, to be fair, I can absolutely see myself doing that."

"I would never sleep with a bastard like you!" Barbara shouted.

Damon shrugged as if it did not matter. "So are you here to ask me to help save Gotham, or are you here to yell at me?"

"..."

Barbara's anger died for a moment, though she still looked unwilling to back down.

"Don't get too pleased with yourself. We don't need you. I can save Gotham without you."

"You can't."

Damon pointed at Barbara, his tone certain.

"Last time, you used that clumsy little method to find me because you wanted help saving Gotham, fighting Bane, or finding your crippled Batman. It did not go well. Also, when you leave later, don't throw another smoke bomb. It is pointless and wastes supplies."

Behind the bat mask, Barbara's expression shifted again and again.

Part of it was humiliation from being mocked.

Part of it was shock.

'Batman was crippled?'

'How did he know that?'

"You could appear openly if you wanted," Damon continued, "but instead you insisted on rooftops and dark corners because you wanted to seem mysterious. That's Batman's habit, and you picked it up too. So after all these days, you came here despite the risk of exposing yourself and letting Gotham know there is a Batgirl. Why?"

He smiled.

"Either you are completely confident and do not care if your enemies prepare for you, or you are out of options."

"Since Batman's injuries probably have not healed yet and you came to me anyway, that leaves only one answer."

"You, and everyone with you, do not have enough confidence to save Gotham. That means you have to ask me for help."

Damon watched Barbara and laughed softly.

"So shouldn't you be trying to persuade me nicely? Maybe begging on your knees? Who gave you the nerve to curse me out, a magic bard?"

Harleen, curious despite herself, asked, "A magic bard?"

"A wandering singer who grants courage through song," Damon said casually.

Harleen nodded in surprise and did not ask anything else.

Barbara had nothing to say.

She had not expected Damon to read the situation that thoroughly.

After their last encounter, Barbara had not told her father, Gordon, about Damon because the whole thing had been too embarrassing.

But as time passed and the situation in Gotham kept getting worse, Gordon decided to gather every bit of strength they could find and make a move. Only then did Barbara have to tell him about Damon.

Gordon had heard of Damon too. The perfect marksman. The ruthless man who had staked out territory for himself. Gordon also knew his daughter's abilities after all her years training under Batman. If Damon was even stronger than Barbara, then of course Gordon was interested.

Saving Gotham meant gathering as many capable people as possible.

That was why Barbara had come.

Before coming, she had warned herself again and again not to get angry. For the sake of the city, for the sake of the people, she could endure it.

Then she saw Damon and broke almost immediately.

"Hah..."

Barbara exhaled and looked at him.

"If you agree to help us save Gotham, I'll apologize."

"That self-sacrificing-for-the-city look on your face is shameless enough to impress me." Damon could not help applauding. "So if I say no, you don't apologize? You get to curse me out for free?"

Barbara opened her mouth to explain, but Damon waved her off.

"Don't rush. Your apology does not matter much to me either way. You want me to help? Fine. Answer one question."

"Ask," Barbara said in a low voice.

A wicked smile lifted the corner of Damon's mouth.

"My little brother suddenly got burning hot and stiff, and I did not know what to do. So I grabbed him and shook him hard, thinking, Little brother, you have to hang in there. After that, he started twitching and throwing up. I wiped him clean, and then he went dull, limp, listless, and curled up on himself. What illness is that?"

'What was this?'

'A medical question?'

Barbara had imagined plenty of possibilities. She had never imagined Damon would ask her something like this.

Burning hot. Stiff body. Twitching and vomiting. Listless after vomiting.

'Was it a cold? Heatstroke? Or was there some trick hidden in the wording?'

Barbara carefully went over the question again, but she could not find a trap.

After hesitating for a moment, she asked, "If I answer correctly, you'll help us save Gotham?"

"Yes."

"And if I answer wrong?"

"Then you get another question."

Barbara thought for a while.

"The flu?"

"Congratulations..."

Damon smiled brightly.

'She got it?'

'She actually got it?'

Barbara felt herself relax, only for Damon to continue.

"You're wrong."

'Wrong?'

Barbara stared at him.

'If it was not the flu, what was it?'

After thinking for a long time and getting nowhere, she finally asked, "Then what's the answer?"

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