"What the hell are we going to do now?" I asked, no hospital would be able to save him now. Black Seven's skin was chalk white and like Pamela earlier, he was shaking because of the blood loss.

Suddenly, Black Seven started moving and tried to get off my arms. "I...I'm okay. J-J-Just l-let me down." He sounded like he spent the last two hours in a fridge but I refused to let him walk. "Are you crazy? You can't even stand!"

"Yes, and yes." He glared at me and I looked at Nygma who shook his head as well as Poison Ivy. "You sure about this?" I asked him, not sure what to do.

"L-L-L-Look. Y-Ya either let m-m-me bleed ta d-death or ya l-l-lemme get my stuff." His eyes were about to close but I quickly pinched him in the neck and he immediately opened his eyes. "Thanks. N-Now let. Me. D-Down!"

I sighed, carefully letting him stand on the ground but still holding him by his arms. "Ya got somethin' sharp in them pockets?" He was starting to wheez again and looked way too tired to me.

"Sure. Here." I handed him a small knife I use to cut ropes and he turned it around in his hand. "T-T-Thanks." Black Seven stuttered, immediately putting out his coat and I saw some bullet wounds on his arms and legs.

He stuck the tip of the blade in a wound on his upper arm but he was unable to twist it to remove the bullet since his forearms had big holes from Onomatopoeia's knifes. "Batsy, you need ta do this." His eyes closed again and his legs gave in but I caught him again, preventing him from falling down. "Wake up, you crazy brat!" I yelled at him and it - luckily - worked.

"I j-just wanted to sleep, ya maniac!" He straightened his legs again, shaking of exhaustion and looking at the Riddler. "There's a room upstairs. S-S-Second door from left. Get me an empty shot and...the two..." Black Seven's head fell aside and I pulled his hairs after he didn't react to me shaking him. "...red capsules. And a thread with a needle."

He was so close to dying, it was a miracle he was able to think straight. Hell, he even had the damn self control not to faint at the pain he must've been in. "Hurry up, Nygma!" I yelled at him as he was just standing there and staring.

After he ran off, Pamela disappeared in a room I heard a curious voice coming from. Maybe Harley was in there.

"Whatcha waitin' for?" Black Seven asked with a weak, quiet and tired voice. "Get the bullets outta me." He handed me the knife and sat down on the desk near him.

"Alright." I said, wishing for someone who's more skilled in this than me. "And don't you ever...pull my hairs...again." He was only whispering with his eyes half closed.

"Open them up!" I yelled to get him to look at me but he just...smiled? And giggled? "I'm not dying. And if so, keeping my eyes open...that wouldn't help."

"You promise you won't die tonight?" I asked, removing the first bullet from his upper arm, waiting for an answer.

Black Seven giggled again and stared at me as if he was looking right through me. "Nope." He leaned his head back, about to touch the cut on his cheek with his left hand but I grabbed his arm. "Don't touch this, it could get infected by your gloves."

"Oh, please. Just remove the bullets." He became a bit aggressive, which was good. It'd distract him from the pain.

"Fffffffrogs!" He squinted his eyes as I had to cut a smaller bullet wound on his back up a bit to get the bullet out from in between his ribs. The procedure was painful to me, too. I knew how awful it feels to scratch bone with a sharp blade.

"Black Seven? Hey, you still breathing?" I asked after a view moments as his body fell back down on the desk. "Mmmmmhm." He stared at the ceiling after I removed the last bullet from his right leg, throwing the knife away and looking at Riddler who just arrived.

"Here, now what should I do?" Nygma put the things down on the table and I had no idea what Black Seven would do with the blood-like liquid in two capsules.

"You-" he let his head fall to the right side so he could look at the Riddler. "do nothin'. J-Just go t-t-to Poison Ivy." Black Seven sighed and tiredly took one shot and put the first red capsule in it.

"And you..." He looked at me, half asleep. "c-c-can go h-home. I g-got this." He was shaking so hard he almost wasn't able to hold the shot in his left hand.

"The hell you got! Give me that, I'm gonna do this for you." As if I was going to listen to him. I just grabbed the shot and stuck it in his left upper arm.

"There you go. Now what?" After finishing the second shot, I looked at his face, not really surprised by him slowly blinking at this question.

"Nothin'. Ya want somethin' ta drink?" Black Seven weakly pointed at a door behind me. "Ya can getchaself somethin' from there."

"You freaking kidding me?" I felt my voice getting louder. "You're seconds away from dying and you want me to drink a damn tea?"

Black Seven smiled and laid back on the desk. "Ya did whatcha could. And it ain't helpin' havin' a nervous giant bat standin' in fronta my face." He opened one eye and looked at me with a smile. "Speakin' of. What drove you so crazy?"

I stared at him with empty eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He giggled and closed his eye again. "C'mon. Ya dress up like a flyin' rat, run around at night and have lil sidekicks ya name afta birds. That doesn't even make sense. Robins don't fly around at night." He looked at me with both eyes again, not wiping the sick smile off his face. "To a guy like me, that's crazy."

"So, tell me." Black Seven slowly sat up, seeming a little less tired. "What happened? Did ya have a bad day?"

"I'm not talking to you about this." I turned around and was about to leave but stopped as Black Seven kept asking.

"Did your girlfriend ditch ya? Lemme guess, yer parents were abusive or were freakin' nice and got murdered." He still smiled as I turned around to him.

"Poor you. You call that a bad day? Cute!" He laughed and I didn't really know how to react to this.

"Look. I know a guy whose pregnant wife got murdered and he was thrown into a chemical waste the same day. I'm not sayin' yer past's meaningless. Just sayin' it ain't the worst fate. There are a lotta broken people out there, but the question is how each one deals with their past."