A/N: On one of the tumblrs I run, Twinings and I offered ourselves up for one full week of filling fic prompts for our readers, varying in length from a hundred to a thousand-plus words. The project has been dubbed the Free For All Fic For All—or FFAFFA for short. This is one of those stories—and this is the boilerplate author's note you'll see on all of 'em.

CATverse Notes: This story just barely qualifies as part of the CATverse, the story listing of which can be found at freewebs. com/catverse; however, it can be read without prior knowledge of that 'verse.

Prompt: Catwoman, Ivy, Magpie and one of Scarecrow's henches on a night on the town; bonus points for Montoya.


A rocks glass was plunked down at Renee Montoya's table, and she stared at it for a moment before looking up at the waiter. "Manhattan," he said, jerking a thumb at the bar, "compliments of that young lady."

The young woman at the bar saluted with her glow in the dark shot and downed it in a second. Objectively speaking she was kind of cute, Montoya supposed, but not really her type. She also looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite put a name to the face. Under the flashing nightclub lights, her hair looked purple, but it was impossible to tell if it was a trick of the light or not. Renee picked up the glass and crossed the club, artfully avoiding the throng of dancing men and women in the middle of the dance floor and weaving through the mass of flirting drinkers that blocked her path.

The girl seemed to brighten up when Renee started in her direction, but it didn't last. She set the drink down on the bar in front of her purple haired benefactor. "Thanks, but I don't like Manhattans."

"Aww," the other women replied with obvious disappointment. "Can I get you something else?"

"Designated driver," Renee said, pointing at herself.

"Oh. I'm sorry." The girl brightened. "Can I buy you a Coke then?"

Renee smiled slightly. "Persistent, aren't you?"

"Actually," the other woman said with a smile, "I'm Laura."

"Clever."

"Okay, Clever." Laura smirked. "You just looked a little lonesome sitting over there all by yourself…and I figured since you're out on a girl's night and I'm out on a girl's night, and we've both been abandoned by our girls…"

Renee laughed outright at that. "How could you tell?"

"Just a hunch." Laura shrugged. "So, friends or coworkers?"

"You first."

"Um…coworkers." Surprisingly, Renee's companion seemed thrown by the very basic question. "Kinda. We're all part of the same organization, but not the same…department, I guess? It's a little complicated…and we're not really even here together, we just kinda ran into each other and decided, hey, it's Friday, why not?"

"What business are you in?"

"Oh," Laura said, swirling her drink with a swizzle stick to buy time, "I'm in...um...private security."

"Night watchman?"

"Heh, no." Laura put the glass down and contemplated the Manhattan. "Bodygaurd. So...yeah. How about you?"

"Coworkers for me, too," Montoya said. "Seventeenth precinct."

"You're a cop?" Laura asked, her face turning pale enough that Renee could actually see it despite the colored strobe light flashing. "Shit, you're a cop? And you're here with othercops? There are cops here?"

Renee's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. "That a problem?"

"Uhhh…" Laura stalled for time by taking a few gulps of the abandoned Manhattan. "No?"

The music cut out suddenly and a scream rang out from the middle of the club.

"Pay no attention to that," Laura said, even as Renee pulled away and sprinted towards the source of the commotion, "I'm sure it's nothing!"

There was a crash. The sound of a whip crack. Another scream. A maniacal cackle.

People scattered.

It certainly wasn't nothing, the woman at the bar knew all too well; still, the diversionary tactic was worth a shot. With Renee gone, lost in the crowd, the Captain, formerly Laura, finished her Manhattan, ate the cherry, and said to the air, "Welp. I guess I better go then."

Renee, meanwhile, made it across the club in record time. Poison Ivy, in a red mini-dress with yellow silk trim, was already trussed up by the time she got to the center of the dance floor, and Magpie—who Renee recognized only because she hadn't abandoned her ridiculous costume—was face down in a puddle of beer with Detective Gibbons on her back, wrangling her into a pair of cuffs as she screeched something about the mirrored disco ball and pretty, pretty, pretty!

Detective Feynman was nursing a black eye, her dress was missing a strap and she had Catwoman's whip in hand, but Catwoman herself was nowhere to be found. A jingling jester's bell rolled across the floor in front of Renee's foot—and she followed its path with her eyes, finding a semiconscious blonde in a red and black dress lying in the ruins of what was left of one of the tables.

"You imbecile, this is your fault!" Ivy shouted at Magpie as she was hauled up off the ground. "We weren't even doing anything this time!"

"The shiny things are mine!" Magpie screamed back as her wig fell off, revealing a head full of short, carrot colored curls.

Harley Quinn struggled to a sitting position, avoiding table splinters as best she could, only to find Renee standing over her with a waiting pair of handcuffs. She seemed to give some serious consideration to fighting back, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth it.

Harley offered her wrists for imprisonment. "Can't even have a girls night out without it gettin' ruined in this town..."

The cuffs clicked into place. "Tell me about it."