Crouching on the roof of a warehouse, Venus waited, watching the entrance. Equipped with two pistols and several knives, she was ready. He wouldn't escape her today.
It took her several days to find his location; many of his henchmen that she captured were uncooperative and refused to betray their king. So she left their bodies in the dark alleyways of Gotham and nobody suspected a thing. The perks of living in the city of crime.
She eventually found a scrawny man who knew of his whereabouts, which led her to this dingy old warehouse. Of course, it wasn't easy. She found herself growing impatient with each man she killed, and it was getting harder and harder to stay under Batman's radar. Bruce has been keeping an awfully close eye on Venus since Jason died, much to her annoyance. She didn't know if it was because he was actually worried about her, or if he suspected she'd do something stupid. She assumed the latter; Bruce Wayne is many things, and stupid isn't one of them.
Bruce is a complete and total hypocrite; he claims he strives for peace, but he refuses to permanently get rid of the many threats in the city. Like, the Joker repeatedly threatens Gotham at least every Tuesday, killing dozens every week. And Bruce has the audacity to let him live? Venus let it slide the first time, but when Joker escaped prison the second, third, fourth time, she had enough.
Bruce was essentially letting the Joker slaughter countless numbers of people by not killing him; he's had so many opportunities to just put an end to this madness, but he refuses. Says it 'makes him no better than the bad guys.' Like what? The world isn't black and white, Bruce. If killing them saves more lives, is it really wrong?
So, Venus decided to take matters into her own hands. She'll stop the Joker and make him pay. She will raise hell on him. She'll beat him like he did Jason, watch as his blood runs rivers through the cracks in the cement.
And here she is, merely feet away from the Joker's current hideout. That scrawny little man informed her that half of his men leave the facility for a thirty minute smoke break between one am and one thirty, so that's her window. Get in, grab him, get out. A sweet but simple plan which leaves no room for error.
Her watch silently buzzed against her arm and she glanced at the entrance, grinning when a group of men walked out. She jumped off the roof, using the small grooves on the sides to slow her fall, and landed with a quick roll.
Breaking her bones is the least of her worries; when Venus was thirteen, her father injected her and her sisters with some sort of serum. Many of her sister's bodies rejected it; their bodies couldn't sustain the toxic medication running through their veins. Her father didn't care, he barely batted an eye. Of course, he eventually replaced them, reminding Venus that she was replaceable and only a means to an end.
But, Venus and two others were the only survivors. Her father clasped their shoulders roughly and assured them that the others weren't tough enough, that they didn't have what it takes.
He later informed them that the serum enhanced the human body. The girls now had impossibly strong bones, strong skin, strong muscles, and high stamina. He would run experiments with them, testing how much their bodies could endure.
Venus once had every single bone in her arm shattered when her father dropped a 2,000 pound boulder on her. He assured her before the experiment that her bones were incapable of breaking, but clearly he was wrong. Or lying. How naive of her to trust him.
It was the worst pain she has ever felt; far more excruciating than bullets or knives ever were. She remembers screaming, her ears ringing and head throbbing. She remembers the disappointed shake of her father's head as he fixed her arm and scribbled in his notebook.
