[ Gotham University, Gotham City ]
Catwoman wasn't wrong when she pointed out that Thea's plan sounded like declaring war. In truth, that's exactly what it was. Thea didn't owe Gotham a thing—she wasn't from here. Showing up to help should've been more than enough. Was she supposed to let some twisted sense of morality shackle her into babysitting this city for five years? For free? Not a chance.
Batman's inner circle was the perfect case study in hero-syndrome. Poisoned by ideology, they acted like every citizen was made of glass and would shatter if not constantly shielded by capes and masks. They threw themselves into every fire, big or small, convinced the city would collapse without their martyrdom. But the truth was, Gotham's citizens weren't that weak, and the villains weren't all that strong. What Gotham needed wasn't a few tired vigilantes—it needed a people's movement. With a properly organized people's movement, even a city with limited military muscle like Gotham could triumph. That's what Gotham need now, a war waged with boots, barricades, and belief.
They loved to preach, "With great power comes great responsibility." That was fine—admirable, even. But it needed timing. And this was not the time to play heroes in the shadows. The streets were overflowing with armed criminals. It wasn't about one-on-one duels anymore. The only viable path now was to stabilize, organize, and push back. Unite the people who wanted peace. Because the truth was, villains were the minority. Most people just wanted to survive.
"I have a suggestion," Thea said at last, when the silence became unbearable. "We should elect a leader. After all, Batman isn't here."
That got a reaction. Barbara snorted coldly, her lips curling into a mocking smile. "Heh. So this is what you really wanted. Finally showing your true colors."
Thea blinked, then sighed inwardly. There it was again—that strange friction between them. No real history, no open feud, yet every glance felt like static. And judging by Barbara's expression, the feeling was mutual.
It was probably just bad chemistry. Still, Thea couldn't help noticing a pattern. The two women she disliked most so far? Barbara Gordon, also known as Batgirl. And Laurel Lance, the Black Canary. Coincidence? Maybe. But both were part of the infamous Birds of Prey. That couldn't be ignored.
She had spoken with Laurel twice before. In theory, their relationship should have remained cordial—after all, whether Laurel ended up with Tommy or Oliver, she was still part of Thea's extended family.
But both conversations could only be described as tedious. When the topic turned to jewelry, Laurel recounted how she and her sister were raised alone by their father and how their family had never been well-off. When they shifted to discussing law, Thea found herself more alienated than engaged—because if she were to take the path of a vigilante, following legal codes to the letter would be impossible. Their exchanges could only be summed up with the kind of vague, polished language used in diplomatic meetings: the atmosphere was "amicable," and they "shared their views." In other words, they talked past each other and accomplished nothing.
Thea had long since concluded that the type of heroine who had no special abilities but was saturated with moral righteousness was simply not someone she could connect with. Instead of replying directly to Barbara's pointed accusation, she looked to the others, curious to see if any of them held a different stance.
Robin remained characteristically silent. Catwoman clearly wanted to support Thea, but her concern for team unity kept her from speaking up. As for Commissioner Gordon, he all but vanished into the background—silent and still, as if he were merely part of the furniture.
It wasn't that the Bat Team didn't respect the old commissioner. It was just that over the years, their unspoken arrangement had turned habitual: the heroes would confront evil, and the police would clean up afterward. Gordon himself had never objected to this division of labor.
Was this truly the standard mode of operation for Batman's team? The boss gave orders, and the rest followed blindly. Judging by the tired, disoriented looks on their faces, Thea assumed they agreed simply because they had no better ideas.
"Alright then," she said, voice crisp as she scanned their expressions. "I propose Commissioner Gordon take overall command. At the same time, we'll form a small operations team that reports directly to him. Thoughts?" She let her words settle as she studied each of their faces, savoring their reactions like a theatergoer watching the first act unfold.
Barbara's expression was by far the most entertaining. At first, she looked pleasantly dazed, having only caught the name "Gordon" and mistakenly thinking Thea had nominated her as the leader. But when she mentally replayed the sentence and caught the "Commissioner" part in front of it, her confidence visibly deflated. Now she didn't know whether to support the decision or object to following her father's lead.
Robin, for once, was quick to respond. Sensing the shift, he immediately backed the proposal and gave an eager nod. "Miss Thea is absolutely right—it's a good idea for Commissioner Gordon to take charge," he said, flashing a bootlicking smile in his future father-in-law's direction.
Catwoman had even less cause to oppose the idea. She had known Gordon since she was a wild teenager and he was a young cop, and though they shared no blood, he had looked after her like a surrogate father. If it weren't for his protection, her early years of pickpocketing would've landed her in prison long ago.
Felicity also gave a quick nod of agreement, mostly just to show solidarity and that she was still in the room.
Commissioner Gordon, on the other hand, looked slightly overwhelmed. One minute he was just attending the meeting, and now he found himself unexpectedly seated at the head of the table. The transition was a bit much, but seeing that even the Bat Team offered no objection, he decided not to overthink it. Leadership was leadership—even if it had arrived uninvited.
It wasn't so strange for a man his age to lead a bunch of youngsters. Batman himself had once been a boy under his orders. Back then, Bruce had listened to him without question. Of course, once the boy grew up and returned from god-knows-where with muscles like granite and fists to match, the power dynamic had... shifted. In the end, everything came down to strength.
Watching the old commissioner slide naturally into his new role, Thea finally relaxed. If they'd followed the whims of the Bat kids, they might've all walked blindly into a trap. But if she had taken command, it would've stirred resentment and fractured the team before anything got done. Gordon, at least, was a compromise they could all live with.
Besides, Thea saw no reason to put herself on the front line. She was, after all, an outsider here. If a veteran like Commissioner Gordon was willing to take up this ticking time bomb, that was more than fine with her.
As for whether too much responsibility would paint a target on Gordon's back—well, the man had been attracting ire for over three decades and still walked on both legs. A few more days wouldn't make a difference.
With the metaphorical hot potato successfully handed off, Thea leaned back in her chair, finally feeling the weight lift off her shoulders. When she had first gotten a sense of Gotham's condition from the sky, it had already seemed dire. Now, seeing the Gotham team up close, she realized she had underestimated it—it was worse. Much worse.
It felt like she'd been dragged into a max-level raid with a bunch of under-leveled players. Worse, the team leader and tank had already been captured, and the remaining DPS wanted to charge into new territory without a plan. Absolutely not.
Originally, she'd intended for one of them to step up as leader, but after observing their... performance, that plan had died a quiet death. The only viable option was to drag someone up from the substitute bench—and Commissioner Gordon, bless him, was their reluctant golden calf. He wasn't quite Batman's golden thigh, but he'd do.
To his credit, Gordon found himself largely in agreement with Thea's strategy. If every crisis demanded a cape and a symbol, then what had the GCPD been doing all these years? Was it all meaningless? Still, given the friction between his daughter and Thea, he had kept quiet out of consideration.
He hadn't missed Thea's veiled criticisms of the Bat Team either. At his age, he didn't need things spelled out to hear the disappointment in someone's tone. Strangely, he couldn't fault her. Deep down, Gordon himself had always been uneasy with Batman's ideology of wielding fear to fight evil. That path had taken him from suspicion to anger, from resignation to reluctant acceptance.
But now, as he watched the daughter of Star City assert herself—sharp-minded, clear-headed, and calm—he felt something stir. Perhaps it was hope. Perhaps it was memory. Perhaps it was the thought that Gotham didn't need more shadows.
Maybe, just maybe, she could be a different kind of light.
To Be Continued...
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