Pamela and Barbara stepped out of Sherry's apartment building, the black garbage bag of cash slung over Barbara's shoulder as if it weighed nothing. The late afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the cracked pavement, the street mostly empty. A breeze carried the faint scent of exhaust and damp concrete.
Barbara shifted the bag and glanced sideways. "Why don't you come over to my place first? We can split the money there."
Pamela arched a brow, her tone playful. "Barbara Gordon, are you inviting another woman to your apartment? What are your intentions?"
Barbara's expression stayed flat. "Just come with me, okay?"
They crossed campus quietly, weaving between brick buildings and empty walkways until they reached the faculty and staff parking lot. Barbara led the way to a rusted-out compact car tucked between two larger vehicles. Its paint was faded, a couple of dents catching the sun. She tugged the loose handle until it gave way.
Pamela eyed it with clear distaste. "First thing we're doing is upgrading your ride. It doesn't have to be flashy—but safer at least."
Barbara shrugged, unlocking the driver's side. "I've got something in mind already. I am planning some custom mods, too. Kinda like how Batman's got his Batmobile."
Pamela slid into the passenger seat, wrinkling her nose at the faint smell of oil and old leather. "As long as we don't end up with a clown-mobile."
Barbara smirked faintly, gripping the wheel. "Don't tempt me. I'm already imagining things."
The engine grumbled when she turned the key, rattling as if it might quit at any second. Still, the car rolled forward, carrying them off campus and into the streets. The drive was uneventful, buildings passing by in silence until the high-rise where Barbara lived came into view.
She steered down into the underground garage, the fluorescent lights humming faintly overhead. Concrete walls pressed close, oil stains marking the parking spots. Barbara parked neatly in her assigned space, killing the ignition. Both climbed out, Pamela's eyes scanning the dim surroundings with mild suspicion.
They made their way toward the elevator, the garbage bag still in Barbara's grip. Before they could reach the doors, a uniformed officer stepped forward. His badge glinted in the artificial light, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Got a new friend coming up with you, huh?" he asked, his voice calm but watchful.
Barbara nodded easily. "That's right, Frank. My dad's already met her. She's good."
Frank studied Pamela for a moment, then stepped aside with a shrug. "Alright, alright. Have fun up there, you two."
Pamela returned a polite nod but said nothing as the elevator doors opened. They stepped inside, the soft hum of the lift surrounding them as it carried them upward.
The doors opened on the fourth floor, directly into a quiet hallway. Only one apartment door sat at the far end. Pamela's gaze swept the area, noting the absence of other units.
"You've got a cop posted at the elevator?" she asked, her voice low.
Barbara walked ahead, unbothered. "Yeah. This elevator's the only way up to this floor. It's secure. One way in, one way out." She cast a glance back, her tone teasing. "Why? Are you wondering how to sneak in by yourself?"
Pamela's lips curved faintly. "As if."
Barbara hesitated for a beat, then lowered her voice. "You know… I wouldn't mind letting you up here by yourself. Want a key?"
Pamela arched a brow at her, eyes sharp with amusement. "You're getting cheeky, Barbara."
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