METROPOLIS. “Wait a sec,” Holly protested. “I thought this was supposed to be some sort of self-esteem workshop.” “Yes,” a dark-haired staff worker assured her as she fastened a polished bronze breastplate over Holly’s chest. A second attendant slid a steel bracelet onto the confused fugitive’s forearm. “We’re simply applying your ceremonial garb.” Holly glanced down at herself. A skirt of studded leather straps hung below the molded bronze cuirass. Metal greaves protected her lower legs. Steel-toed leather boots encased her feet. “Seriously, you do know this is battle armor, right?” “Nonsense,” the brunette said. She held out a bronze headpiece bearing the sculpted visage of a snarling panther. “Now, let’s get you into your Purification Helmet.” Holly eyed the feline totem molded upon the helmet. A nod to her short-lived stint as a substitute Catwoman, or just a coincidence? She was already uneasy about the fact that Harley Quinn knew all about Holly’s dubious past; heck, she had nearly fled the shelter after Harley had dropped that bombshell on her in the spa, but the Joker’s supposedly reformed former squeeze had insisted that Holly’s secret was safe among her Athenian “sisters.”
