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a look into Alexis Kaye's blackened heart: who was close to her, who she ' loved ' enough to consider her friend(s), how the ' love ' manifested ──── & the fate that awaited them. this is a study of Alexis Kaye, Aiden Priest & Kelly Ness. large focus of this post will be on Aiden & Alexis. Alexis is [ already ] radicalized before she ever reaches high school, as detailed in my post here. this is a natural escalation of what happens post - radicalization. these are subject to change at my discretion.
tw: somewhat graphic mentions of suicide, murder, bullying, harassment, & lack of empathy; radicalization, extremism, & terrorism. mentions of doxxing, school shootings, serial killers, podcasts, true crime documentaries, etc., referenced Joker's crimes, acid attacks, & gang stalking.
00:01 ⁞ ──── 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ( 𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ).
( It started with laughter, & ended with a one - sided suicide pact. ) high school was hardly a place where she envisioned a future; by then, everything inside her had curdled. anger festering like maggots on a cadaver, devouring bright ideals that adults made them swallow. the falseness of it all glaring enough to blind. surrounded by ignorance ──── it nauseated her. they laughed like demented hyenas, taking joy where there was none to be found. shallow. everyone talking about clubs, cheer practices, tests, parties, which teacher was a raging creep, whose parents are paying off the principal, & who fucked who. no one who could see the epidemic of rot & decay encroaching every night in the silence of her room. she sought solace online, clicking through hundreds of forums, believing someone might comprehend it ──── the duality, the distortion. but nihilism without direction soon transformed into rage, & with it, she burns everyone around her with scalding venom.
Mr. Robinson was her first true target ( there had been others, useless no names who didn't matter ). she pushed & pushed & pushed until he broke in front of them all. then came the cameras. the class filmed his little meltdown because that's what you do when it looks like a teacher is about to lose his patience & strangle a girl. clipped without context; he's just some insane teacher who is taking his frustrations out on minors. the video ' anonymously ' found its way on the internet with some two - bit caption related to mental health awareness. that was the joke. ( ...the possibility of working again as a teacher was low when you look like a danger to kids ) every day, he humiliated himself, walking back onto the stage that had booed him off. entering into a class, trying to earn respect in the eyes of the masses ──── he was entertainment; he was trapped. he had no authority, & because of it, there was nothing he could do about bullying allegations made against Alexis Kaye without seeming retaliatory.
──── just like that, the school was hers.
that place had a massive harassment problem, but ruthlessness ran in her veins ( you either learn to swim or drown, choking on your own blood ). rules held no weight anymore. she'd smoke in the bathroom, skip class, flick cigarette butts at kids in the quad. pick fights. ruin reputations ──── they were wary of her ( GROW UP, IT WAS JUST A JOKE ). amidst all those honestly tame offenses, she had met Aiden Priest. he had found it funny when another █████ had angered Alexis. rather than the usual fear, outrage, or brave little attempts to stop her ──── he advised her. tips & tricks for making it worse. he wasn't like the others, pretending to be brave. no, he was entertained that she held the school's optics by a leash. Alexis was... amused. not impressed, but two heads were definitely better than one ( technically three, but who gave a fuck about Kelly Ness? she was like a passive parasite, clinging to a stronger host to survive ).
00:02 ⁞ ──── 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ( 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐦 ).
it was just funny. mocking, laughing, guilting & breaking others, without a single chipped nail. a rumour here, a rumour there, a house address doxxed online because Stacy smiled too widely ──── the girl's ignorance was offensive. the hiccups as she sobbed, while a smirk adorned Alexis's face, was the highlight of many of her mornings that following year. Aiden assisted her ─ they'd make fake accounts online, leak videos, pay off kids to gang stalk ' as a prank ', it was fucking hilarious; her cruelty became a collaborative group project that was tenderly cultivated into jagged thorns, sharp enough to cut arteries. outside of their pastime, the two got along well ──── lying on the floor, getting high, listening to youtubers with zero tact applying makeup & talking about men, women, & children being butchered to death. it was just content; violence would never amount to anything else. skipping past the boring sob story parts, they'd find the victim's donation pages & be generous ( ... the username of the magnanimous donor? the killer's ). the outrage & cries from the families were enough to make her laugh for weeks straight.
one smile turned into two, a cue lined up. they knew each other's tells well by the second year of high school ──── which classmates' breakdown would make the other snort, which threads & forum platforms they preferred, whether audio quality helped in the overall experience of cannibalizing death into marketable content. messages they'd send to each other during class, listing manifestos of killers & school shooters; screams of the victims, or political agendas pushed using tragedies:
𝗔𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡: skip to 12:06. victim statement starts there 💀
𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗫𝗜𝗦: boring.
entertainment was abundant as long as the tears of her peers never ran dry; Kelly was there, too ──── soft hands, worried glances, stuttering words. Alexis didn't discourage her; every group needed a punching bag, someone to find the horrifying truth of who her friends truly are & to decide which route to pick: COWARDICE OR PARASITIC HOLD? would she run, or would she dig her nails into Alexis' flesh until she drew blood, clinging, just to not get abandoned & treated like the rest of the school?
it was around that time that Aiden & Alexis came up with a book. it was just her chemistry notebook with spilled ink & doodles of knives in the corner when names started being added. names of those who annoyed them. names of those whom they disliked. names of those whom Alexis wanted gone. it was a joke ──── until the joke had a body count. death lost its pallor; it was no longer something worth fearing. every day at home & online, it was the same stories were recycled everywhere: murders, robberies, assaults, war, famine, death, etc., etc., etc. the violence of this world followed her, seeping into emerald eyes, teaching her its ways. who was she to not continue the cycle? her classmates started experiencing a sickness ──── not of body, but of circumstances. some would get rumours spread, others would be doxxed, some would be battered, some would slit their wrists ( ... & turn into hashtags because death was never kind ), some were smart & knew to drop out. not that it helped, the list grew. eventually, Kelly was on it too. picture scribbled & crossed out. the girl's hesitation was no longer funny. SHE WAS DEAD TO HER ──── !
it was another link that had changed her life. another story, another murder, another wave of faux tears from the audience with cameras pointed as they held a trial by public opinion. this time, Joker was involved. Aiden & Alexis differed here ──── she thought Joker to be too theatrical, too old - school, too out of touch. though after some persuasion ( nagging ), Alexis found herself in the silence of her bedroom, once more. face alit by the screen, the page opened to a dark web forum that posted an uncensored version of one of Joker's attacks that morning ( ... "How to Lose a Face in 10 Seconds TUTORIAL" ). the laughter that erupted from her throat could not be attributed to the gore or the apathy of it all. she wasn't even watching him, she was watching the crowd of horrified rats. it was reaction ──── he understood perfectly; the camera angles, the audience's gasps & awe twisted into a sick applause. the city hated him. they couldn't get enough of him. he understood. Aiden had been smug about it. Alexis was enamoured with the Joker. not as a fangirl. not as a lover. she would be the amplifier to his message; the world had a joker, yet no one understood his 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 yet.
00:03 ⁞ ──── 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦 ).
the previous directionless rage of her life finally had a punchline, & with it, her demeanor mellowed. this was no longer an ambiguous joke. no more breaking bones, driving kids to the edge, or making them cry deliberately. she waited now, a snake slowly coiling around the flesh of her prey's neck, suffocating bit by bit. the world would not be forgiven; no rule said she had to play by their rules ──── teachers insisted children could be whatever they wanted, right? that's the gag, then. Aiden & Alexis continued to venture into forums, digging into Joker communities, fangirls, fanatics, loyalists, haters, victims, everything. it was humbling. by junior year, they'd mapped him well enough to predict his next attack, & so Alexis Kaye went on an infamous field trip to Gotham City. he was there. having met him as a teen, certainty seeped into her bones. this would be her ── their ── purpose.
they left high school together, Snyder College. Kelly didn't follow ( ...traitor ). Alexis's fingers carried the Midas touch by then, every chemical reaction bending to her will ──── paralytics, poison, bootleg fear toxin; she trained herself, building her own immunities for the following year. the recipe most difficult to reverse engineer was Joker gas. Aiden had gone into audio engineering. their friendship matured: she made bodies, he made stories out of them. that's when they started her podcast, an alibi set up years in advance, reframing her as a misguided woman trying to understand the Joker. but that wasn't enough ──── a line was crossed, the bodies produced & subsequently disappeared, now had a personal touch. killed by gloved hands & sadistic smiles. college was not a new world; it was a better production lab.
the list had followed them through high school. it was easier to have pre - selected test subjects miles away. old classmates received envelopes with varying results of homemade Joker gas. she returned to them with religious devotion ──── they perished one by one, demise spanning across years, until only one of her classmates remained. Kelly was smarter than Alexis gave her credit for; she ran, predictably. but that was part of the hunt ( HA - HA ──── ! ). Aiden knew, he tracked her, & together they destroyed every encampment she ever ran to, closing in slowly. it took years since high school, but eventually Kelly, too, met her fate, disappearing like the worthless trash she was, remembered by nobody & looked for by no one ( that's what happens when you have a reputation as a runaway ).
by the time Joker War had arrived & passed, 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 had martyred herself. a cult - like figure, beloved by half the city, despised by the others. red - stained hands that others chose to see as pure white; tainted by no one, touched by no one ──── she bathed in the blood of many. domestic terrorism, they wished to charge her with. Joker's crimes. his accomplice. his punishment, the death penalty, awaited to fall on her shoulders. she accepted this game, too. Aiden understood her. he loved her, he knew, no matter what, any prior witnesses could not be allowed to speak. he burned a warehouse worth of evidence for her, buried, edited, softened, sold & killed the rest.
no loose ends.
he would never let her die, & she would never let him live. If their friendship had been real ──── he would gladly kill himself. he does. proof that someone understood her, someone stayed, someone chose her, someone died. Alexis sleeps with a smile that night as she's acquitted.
✖ ──── 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 about her parents, childhood, & the TV; These are subject to change at my discretion. Inspired heavily by canon comic material ( Joker War Saga; Punchline: The Trial of Alexis Kaye; Punchline: The Gotham Game & Knight Terrors: Punchline #1-2) & my own imagination. PART 1 / 2 ; NEXT PART
00:01 ⁞ 𝐒𝐎𝐁 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘
The routine never truly changed & by the time her parents realized it, things had spiraled out of control enough to not truly matter. Alexis Kaye had always been an intelligent & observant girl. troublesome, too. She noticed things, & the things she would notice, she would say ── the teacher's husband's shirt had lipstick marks on it; children who wore the same clothes every single day because they couldn't afford new ones; substitutes who would tell the kids to go play outside ( & probably get kidnapped ), so they didn't have to watch them. Her parents had drilled all the ' right ' & ' correct ' things a child should know ── don't take candy, don't trust adults, don't stay out after dark ── But Alexis Kaye was an observant girl, & therein lay the problem.
( WHAT IS HYPOCRISY BY ANY OTHER NAME? A JOKE ! ) / Her parents were ' kind ' by any standards. Middle class, one a chemist, the other obsessed with reputation and being the perfect stay-at-home dad. They taught her things, back when they were still together. Things that were meant to make her a good girl. When not to hug mommy when she's working with scary chemicals, when to act polite and be quiet so that the neighbour doesn't get the wrong idea, when to ignore the screaming matches at home & never, ever speak of it out loud. They were not monsters, but they were very invested in seeming better than their own mess. By the time the divorce had been finalized, she was simply glad both of them would stop pretending to be above it all.
Two homes weren't as bad as they were made out to be. A primary one, near her school, meant she'd be where she was & not get uprooted yet. & then the routine was born. School, home, study, play. School, home, study, play. school, home, study, play ────
00:02 ⁞ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐈𝐑
FAMILIARITY & STAGNATION SHARE THE SAME NAME ──── often times she'd come home alone to the same scenery. Mom at work, dad in another city. But she never felt alone. It was always there. It always played. The television ── It never took its eyes off her. Every day she'd learn of a new ' fairytale ' that would go on: Kids missing, trials, kidnappings, bombings, noise, villains & heroes & cops. She never understood most of it, but she watched. sitting in a dark room, hearing the words on screen be recycled & spat out. Always the same scene: Empty rooms. Darkening skies. cold meals. the noise of the TV. Whatever the stinging scent of leftover chemical residue smelled like that particular week her mom had been messing with. Other children brought packed lunches; they got family dinners, she got stories about another mall getting shot up that day & wondered why no one at school seemed to care much about it.
School was different now; her observations were no longer irritatingly charming or welcomed. Questions that were too sharp invited concern & concern invited her mother's attempts to pay the school off ( ❝ She's just… at a higher level. Perhaps we could push her forward a year or two.❞ ). Teachers spoke about growing up & ❝ becoming what you want❞ ──── She didn't want to be anything. Adults lie. The TV shows her what happens when adults get cowardly or brave. Mom shows her what happens when your jobs take over your life. Dad showed her active parenting meant she was always right & anything she said goes.
YOU CAN BE ANYTHING.
ANYTHING BUT WITH LIMITATIONS & JUDGEMENT.
ANYTHING ASIDE FROM WHAT I'VE SAID YOU SHOULD BE.
The other kids were strange & happy ──── ignorant, is the word she'd later learn in middle school. They spoke of TV shows ─ none that she was aware of or interested in ─ they spoke of dreams & happiness & futures & every worthless thing adults fill the heads of children with. An ugly feeling would soon follow. Rage - inducing in its nature. It spread like a virus. Making her bite her lip until it bled. She always had an advanced vocabulary… an ' adult ' one taught by mom, dad, the TV. So she'd start small. call the girls ugly, the boys fat. Then call them hideous ███████, █████, ██████. It was verbal for a while & she was reprimanded severely.
But it was starting to get harder & harder to care.
00:03 ⁞ 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊
During her entrance to middle school, she'd been made to sit through an assembly. An anti-bullying assembly. Jesus Christ. That was a treasure trove ─ A handbook on how to deal with losers. Everyone annoying. Everyone happy. Everyone who was worthless enough to imply she was in the wrong. IT STARTED WITH JOKES. Then accidents, then games, then tests. small stuff like shoulder-checking people in hallways, stepping on someone’s shoes, knocking books out of their hands & acting bored about it, tripping someone during gym, shoving someone ' too hard ' during a game, yanking a chair back just enough to make someone fall, accidentally slamming a locker door near their fingers, bumping someone carrying lunch so the mess becomes the humiliation. IT WAS CONTENT. No one wanted to mess with her & no one did for a while. Pain & humiliation equalled to power. & those who had older siblings who would pick a fight? She'd pick one right back ─ aim for the eyes, neck, nose, skull.
An incident occurs, bad enough that she has to change schools, go out of Gotham & live with her dad for the rest of the high school years. By then, he'd given up on caring about reputation; a pushover. He'd buy her platform boots, fishnets, and black as tar eyeliner ─── What? Don't you want her to express herself?
ONLINE THINGS WERE MUCH BETTER. She explored groups, subgroups, forums, ideologies, & changes ── for once she felt as though she belonged. They get it. They get what the TV drilled into her as a kid. The world is falling apart, it's going to shit. There's no hope. no way to make things better; hell, she doesn't want them to get better. She wanted to do what she wanted without restrictions & rules & ethics. BUT EVEN THE MOST DEPRAVED OF PLACES LET HER DOWN. Ideologies about nihilism & anti-life argued for peaceful cessation; who fucking cares?
School was starting to get easier, though. She had a list by then. a hit list? test subjects? Whatever you wanna call it, get on it & she'll make your life living hell: She'd make hate accounts, anonymous confession pages, spread rumours, & ' accidentally ' doxx someone. She'd befriend someone, use them, discard them; She'd recruit other students as witnesses. She'd cry selectively. She'd use ❝ I was just joking,❞ ❝she’s obsessed with me,❞ ❝he started it,❞ ❝I’m scared of them,❞ ❝everyone saw it,❞ as shields ─── adults didn't care about the truth, they just liked complete stories. It didn't take too long before her classmates & teachers understood that she could do whatever the hell she wanted. Smoke in the bathrooms, flick cigarettes at the kids in the quad, skip class. She'd never be in trouble.
✖ ──── 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 about her radicalization, Joker, & chemistry skills; These are subject to change at my discretion. Inspired heavily by canon comic material ( Joker War Saga; Punchline: The Trial of Alexis Kaye; Punchline: The Gotham Game & Knight Terrors: Punchline #1-2 ) & my own imagination. PART 2 / 2; PREV. PART.
00:04 ⁞ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 !
For a while, she actually thought someone had gotten it. They didn't. But she believed they did ─ losers on the internet who claimed to understand her. Subgroups, forums, true crime podcasts, manifestos of killers & school shooters; nihilistic anti-life ideologies, criminal worshippers who found murderers hot enough to get obsessed over, those with morbid fascinations with gore & those who pretended to be ' deep ' because they got rejected from film school & now thought narcotics & a vendetta meant they'd get somewhere in life ── the works. It didn't actually make a difference; she had felt accepted initially, but it wasn't long before they proved their idiocy.
Empathy & intelligence were antithetical. How could ideologies about the extinction of life still argue for peaceful cessation? No one understood ──── LIFE ISN'T PRECIOUS, IT WAS CONTENT. It never mattered. It was abundant, it was common, & it was cheap. War sells. Famine sells. Murder sells. Kidnapping, drugs, robberies ── it all sells. Even the most dedicated mother was bound to get on the news & write a memoir about her missing child 12 years down the line. Even the most dedicated father would rather kill his entire family than accept a divorce because reputation matters ─ it. all. sells.
(In)sanity had a different question for her: the world or her? It'd taunt, Who was in the wrong? Was it her ── sitting alone in her room, alit by the brightness of her screen, feeling more & more empty each passing day because why did no one fucking see it? ── or was it the world that rejected her & called her ' extreme ' & someone with ' behavioral issues ' who was in the wrong? Were 8 billion really, really, really fucking stupid? Was she the only one with sense anymore? Why were her ideology & beliefs wrong? Why did she not belong? It drove her to madness. & the more she thought, the angrier she became at everyone. She lashed out in school, destroyed & defaced public properties, bullied teachers into quitting & students into being afraid of leaving their homes lest she see them again, & draws blood this time.
The only one who sort of got it was Aiden Priest ─ her one ' friend ', or something close to it at least. He was the one who found her antics funny, the one who listened to podcasts about serial killers with her & mocked everyone involved & the one who introduced her to him ────
00:05 ⁞ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 !
Everyone knew of Joker. In & out of Gotham, he was known. Alexis hadn't taken him seriously, not at first ──── the loudness, the colours, the bad jokes, it hadn't felt… real. Old - fashioned, stupid, too much of a relic to really matter. But it wasn't until Aiden actually made her listen to him speak that she realized: Oh, he was the real deal. He was someone who got it, who got her. He knew how to make noise ─ loud enough to drown out the silence of her room with screams or laughter. She remembers the first time she'd found his joke funny ( he'd burned off someone's face & asked why their smile was wobbly ). She laughed hard enough to end up on the floor, writhing from the sheer hilarity of this world. He got it ! but not completely, not yet. He understood that morals are theater, life is cheap, people are hypocritical, but he didn't understand how to translate that── why his jokes fell flat. He understood the world & remade it in his image, but the words weren't being translated right.
She could help with that: Not a broadcast, a livestream. Not groupies, but those who couldn't take their eyes off his brilliance ─ they'd clip, obsess, dissect, defend, critique every action he ever took. An engagement loop where the audience becomes the engine. If the world that they saw was a joke, then she would be its punchline. She doesn't want to live in this world anymore ─── it's decrepit, it's falling apart, everyone pretends the rot festering under the floorboards will just go away ─ IT WON'T, SHE WON'T LET IT. She wanted a world of her own, one where she could do whatever she wanted. One where people didn't get the luxury of upholding a farce. & she supposed, she didn't really care how many people she had to start hurting in the process when it came to getting what she wanted.
00:06 ⁞ 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 !
Osmosis had been a great teacher for the past 16 years. Absorbing mom's little lessons & dad's little warnings ─── she excelled at chemistry. Better than the average junior in high school, better than half the teachers even, because she'd always had an off - script teacher. Aiden & her had started experimenting. Simple stuff at first: chloroform, noxious gases outlawed but could look ' innocent ' enough to be an accident. There was even an incident when someone at her school ended up passing away from being a stupid █████ that didn't understand what carbon monoxide poisoning does to a person when locked in a garage with the car running. Their fault. But the sacrifice certainly helped her gain confidence enough to keep going.
It wasn't satisfactory enough yet. They'd become obsessed with Joker. She had gotten deep enough into the rot that she could predict what the next funny thing he'd do would be. He was unpredictable, but after a while, even that's predictable. Besides, there was always chatter online from his groupies ─── she wasn't like them, but they were useful. Enough context clues lead her to know exactly where he would strike next. & so Alexis Kaye happily signed up for a field trip to Gotham City because there was a smidgen of a rumour that the Joker would strike at the broadcast tower. She was right. She did go & she did meet him. From there, her fate had been set.
Bootleg Joker gas recipes online were fun to mess with. She didn't want to use mom or dad for this one, not yet. She needed the TV to validate her first, to get good enough ─── nothing was more embarrassing than a botched attempt that looked less like retribution & more like a cry for attention. So she went to Gotham's homeless encampment. Envelopes filled with Joker gas were dumped into the trash, where they scrounged. The results weren't perfect, not right off the bat. Too amateurish. Too obviously a copycat. But she kept at it. Eventually, things became easier, formulas tweaked enough that the news ( & its inability to ever fact - check ) reported her crimes as his. It was exhilarating, but she knew it wasn't enough. She needed more.
She needed to leave behind crumbs of a story: her innocence. She started a podcast with Aiden's help & documented her journey of finding meaning in Joker's ways. It went well enough; people were hooked. It got scrubbed, naturally, but nothing dies forever on the internet.The narrative was sweet enough that she knew Gotham's sheep would believe her. She just wanted to understand the joke he was telling ─── what was so fucking funny? She already knew, though. & because she knew, because the TV knew, she went back to her list. Those who'd ever wronged her in middle school & high school? Well, a special envelope came in the mail for them.
Mom & Dad? They deserved something more… personal. She didn't kill them yet. She had thought he'd want her to do it to prove herself ( & why should she spoil the joke before the punchline lands? ); It was their fault. Mom taught her chemistry, dad taught her what image means to a person, TV taught her everything is a fucking joke & its content. Internet taught her refinement & Joker taught her language ─── She’s finally who she wanted to be:
everything they made her, & everything she chose to become.
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i do sometimes sympathize with alexis kaye because she’s at most in her mid twenties, early twenties if we are being realistic but probably 25 ish if i’m being generous. while dating men like joker and entering a war with batman. she’s not a victim in the typical sense ( or she would never think herself to be one ) because of her personality, & she’s still wrong. like she’s literally younger than nightwing — probably the same age as canon jason n myself ( 23 ). in comics she talks about believing in joker when he kills batman. but if u know joker u know he’ll NEVER want to kill batman. she’s out of her depth n mistaken, but because she has so much sheer audacity & intellect & luck that she’s managed to avoid reality slapping her in the face.
skill wise, she definitely doesn’t have batfamily levels of official vigilante training. the way she’s coasted by in canon is frankly convenient comic logic. she’s a MASTER at chemistry and not above dosing herself to create immunity to Joker gas, fear toxin, and venom for a year. she makes her own drugs going forward, using LEGAL materials that are harder to outlaw, like. that’s amazing. but fighting wise she goes up against catwoman, nightwing, batman, red hood, harley etc and holds her own, which i find interesting but also unrealistic. for my blog ive just decided that she’s one of those annoying people who picks up skills too quickly and has great physical strength ( on account of being young and training in non - official dirty fights as a kid — bullying other children, fighting their older siblings when they try to defend their siblings, friends, etc ), but really wtf. she’s so strong, but she shouldn’t be able to hold her own, realistically, against some of gotham’s strongest. alexis surviving gotham’s heavy hitters makes much more sense if her combat style is built around asymmetry: chemical prep, dirty timing, environmental control, psychological misdirection, media spectacle, & forcing opponents to fight around civilians, cameras, toxins, hostages, optics, or incomplete information. i doubt she has a beautiful form when in fights. She has instinct, spite, & willingness to escalate faster than a trained hero expects. against normal people, that makes her terrifying. against batman’s circle, it buys seconds. which is useful.
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