[ Gotham University, Gotham City ]
"Puff!" Felicity choked mid-sip, nearly snorting Coke through her nose. She ducked her head quickly, doing her best impression of a random background character.
Catwoman's reaction time was uncanny—she had actually started laughing—but halfway through, she reminded herself that technically, she and Barbara were on the same side. Using sheer facial muscle control, she forced her smirk into something more subdued. From a distance, she looked like Mona Lisa's sassier cousin.
Robin considered jumping in to defend his beloved, but Thea had already changed back into her civilian attire. Anyone could tell she was a woman—and not just any woman, but a strikingly beautiful one. Batman had given him a very specific piece of advice: never pick a fight with women, especially beautiful ones. With that in mind, he wisely entered spectator mode.
"You—you jerk! How could you say that to me?" Barbara's voice rose, her cheeks burning with fury. She hadn't expected Thea to first flatter her and then throw her into the gutter. Her mind swirled with disbelief—how could someone's words sting so much? Her pride bristled—those words had hurt.
Thea didn't rise to her anger. She simply studied Barbara in silence. This woman was proud, entitled, and self-centered, with a worldview that placed herself firmly at the center. She never bothered to consider others, convinced the universe orbited around her. And yet, it struck Thea how closely this girl mirrored original Thea future.
If fate hadn't taken such a sharp turn, perhaps she would've been just like this. Watching Barbara now—angry, unraveling—Thea didn't feel disdain. Only a quiet sadness, and a faint pity.
"What's with that look in your eyes? Say it clearly—do you have a better plan?" Barbara demanded, her anger still simmering but not boiling over. That flicker of control in her voice—however faint—was proof that Batman's teachings and her father's lectures hadn't been entirely in vain.
And that earned Thea's approval. If she'd flipped the table and screamed in self-righteous fury, Thea would've walked out without hesitation. Let Gotham implode for all she cared.
"First of all, can we even defeat Bane?" Thea asked calmly, scanning each face in the room. "Catwoman told me he beat Batman with his bare hands. Are any of us stronger than Batman?"
Barbara let out a short scoff, her tone laced with contempt. "So what? We can use guns. Why fight him in hand-to-hand combat?"
Thea raised an eyebrow. "Have you studied the map? Bane's still holed up in the city hall building. The place has a clear panoramic view. Finding a viable angle for long-range sniping would be tricky. And pistols? Probably useless at that distance."
Barbara paused, then responded confidently, "Then we'll use missiles. The Wayne family has a few hidden launch platforms."
Thea blinked twice, then rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Have you even heard of the word 'reconnaissance'?" she muttered, wondering—not for the first time—how Batman had managed to keep his brain from leaking out through his ears with teammates like these.
With a flick of her hand, she signaled Felicity to transfer data onto the meeting room's monitor. The screen lit up with images—grainy but clear enough. Thea pointed to a still shot captured by surveillance cameras in city hall.
"These people—hostages, right? I don't know them, but I ran a google search. That bald man's your mayor, isn't he? And that Black woman—she's either a prosecutor or a judge."
Her tone sharpened, teasing but biting. "So what now? You planning to launch a missile and turn them all into ash?"
If every high-ranking official in Gotham got blown to bits by a superhero's missile, tomorrow's headlines would be brutal and it wouldn't just be local news—it'd be an international scandal. Batman wouldn't even need to return—he'd be tried in absentia just for being associated with them. As the team leader, he'd better run away quickly.
Barbara's expression soured with frustration, but she still straightened her spine and shot back stubbornly, "Then what do you think we should do?"
Thea's smile returned, slow and unreadable. "You want me to tell you what to do? Will any of you even listen?"
The group exchanged glances, but no one spoke. Eventually, Catwoman broke the silence, leaning on the weight of old friendship as she said, "Tell us your idea first. If it makes sense, we'll definitely listen."
Her voice carried no real conviction, and Thea could hear the hollow courtesy in it. They weren't looking for a leader—and she didn't want that job either. Batman would be back soon enough. This was temporary.
"I don't know what any of you can actually do," Thea said plainly, her tone neutral. "I'm just offering a personal opinion: this guy—Bane—isn't actively escalating right now. He's dangerous, yes, but not an immediate threat. That makes him a problem we can save for last."
She pointed to the live feed where Bane sat idly on a throne of boredom, and addressed the group calmly. "Yes, Bane is harmless at the moment. He wants to go out and kill people but worries the hostages might escape. So he stays in, doing nothing. At this point, all he's missing is a deck of cards to kill time."
Several people, especially Barbara, still looked unconvinced. So Thea, with the air of someone tired of explaining the obvious, decided to push harder.
"What should be our top priority right now? It seems like none of you really know. Is it this guy on the screen? I know you all pride yourselves on being brave, but throwing yourselves at Bane to rescue a bunch of politicians—what exactly would that accomplish? Even if you defeat him, would saving a handful of upper-level officials fix Gotham?"
As she finished, she cast a meaningful glance at Commissioner Gordon.
The old man sighed inwardly. Of course those guys wouldn't fix anything. He knew that better than anyone. But in front of Thea, he couldn't very well admit how useless they all were. Still, the fact that he didn't object said enough. He wasn't about to send his daughter into a suicide mission for the sake of bureaucrats.
Seeing that even Gordon wasn't refuting her now, Thea knew she had finally earned some footing. "Their lives aren't in danger for now," she continued. "So instead of wasting our time on a lost cause, we focus on saving civilians."
She gestured to Felicity. "My partner's drawn up a plan. Listen up."
Felicity stepped forward with the confidence of a CEO and unfolded a city map of Gotham.
"This is Gotham University, where we are currently located. My proposal is to set up a cordon at Harris Square and Adams Street, and designate that as our operational zone. We'll call on citizens to move into this area for safety, and simultaneously reach out to isolated police units. As we grow stronger, we can gradually expand our control until the entire city is under protection again… That's it."
She ended on a passionate note—but when no one said anything, her confidence deflated, and her voice trailed off into awkward silence.
Barbara and Robin both seemed momentarily stunned, as if their brains were still buffering the scale of the plan. Catwoman, on the other hand, had picked up on something deeper and suddenly looked uneasy. "Are you trying to start a war?" she asked nervously. "Setting up fortifications, creating isolation zones... God, did we time-travel back to the war era?"
Thea didn't flinch. "Selina," she said calmly, "I'm not sure how else to put this—but I hope you'll face reality. What else is this, if not a war? At least 1,500 inmates escaped from Blackgate, plus hundreds more from Arkham. The city is crawling with criminals. Can we honestly take them down one by one? How many innocent people will die while we pretend everything's still normal?"
Catwoman's reaction wasn't surprising. Her mindset reflected that of many so-called heroes—a belief that no matter how broken the world was, they could shoulder the weight alone. At best, it was called courage. At worst, it was just plain arrogance. Like the world would stop spinning if they weren't there to keep it turning.
And Thea could already picture how things might have gone if she hadn't stepped in—Bane would've been hunted down first, followed by years of slow, painful cleanup. The escapees from Blackgate and Arkham would be tracked down like wild animals, one by one, and it might take five years to round them all up again. Comic writers would be thrilled—every villain gets another story arc, another showdown. But for the people actually living in Gotham? It would be five more years of fear. Of bodies in alleyways and screams in the dark.
And that was something she wasn't willing to let happen.
To Be Continued...
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