watched Thea speak with calm confidence, eyes faintly curious.
A.R.G.U.S. had been monitoring Gotham—and its elusive protector, Batman—for a long ti.
To an agency like hers, Batman was an ideal candidate: a billionaire genius, brilliant strategist, and technological powerhouse.
A purely human asset—controllable, pragmatic, and already a beneficiary of the existing political structure. He was exactly the kind of person a shadow governnt preferred to work with: powerful, discreet, and not radioactive like the tahumans who could level cities in a tantrum.
Still, several analysts had raised the sa concern: “How has this man not gone insane yet?”
Their files were littered with psychiatric red flags.
Even Amanda Waller herself had comnted, “He’s stable—barely. Keep your distance, but keep the line open.”
So when Gotham descended into chaos after Batman’s disappearance, A.R.G.U.S. saw an opportunity.
Officially, Lyla’s mission was to “assist local authorities and secure dangerous assets.”
Unofficially—it was reconnaissance.
Build goodwill now, harvest loyalty later.
Killer Croc was a convenient excuse, but the real interest began when A.R.G.U.S. analysts discovered another figure involved in his capture: Thea Queen.
She had covered her tracks well, but “well” ant little to an agency with nation-scale resources.
Every database was open to them, every surveillance feed fair ga. If Felicity Smoak could do what she did on a laptop, A.R.G.U.S. could do it with an army of her clones. It didn’t take long for them to find Thea’s true background.
When Amanda read the dossier, she’d actually paused.
A second billionaire vigilante? And a woman, at that?
As a pragmatist—and, perhaps, a woman who understood what it took to stand among n in power—Amanda felt a twinge of curiosity, even respect.
She imdiately upgraded the mission’s priority and sent her trusted operative, Lyla Michaels, to Gotham—not only to handle Croc, but to make contact.
“Miss Queen, could you take to the captured subject?” Lyla asked.
Though she was technically out of uniform, her bearing still carried that unmistakable military sharpness—commanding, not unfriendly, but never soft. To the uninitiated, it looked like arrogance.
“Of course,” Thea replied evenly. “And please—call Thea.”
In truth, “seeing the subject” was just a pretext. Both won knew it. Lyla wanted a reason to step away from the crowd and talk freely.
Commissioner Gordon, no fool, imdiately caught the subtext.
He stopped Barbara with a hand on her shoulder and muttered, “Let’s give them space.”
A mont later, the old cop was gone.
Once they were alone, Lyla went straight for the point.
“I heard from the Commissioner that encouraging civilians to take part in the defense effort was your idea.”
Her tone was polite but firm—closer to an interrogation than a complint.
“Tell , Miss Queen. Do you really believe sending untrained civilians into the field won’t get them killed?”
The question might have sounded harsh to anyone else, but Thea recognized the soldier’s logic behind it.
To a soldier, “unity” and “discipline” were sacred. War wasn’t a stage for lone heroes—it was a machine that demanded coordination. Even Captain Arica, the shining idol of heroism, never fought alone.
“Casualties are inevitable,” Thea replied calmly. “But so sacrifices save more lives in the long run. Order must be restored, and quickly. In that sense, it’s worth it.”
She didn’t add the rest: Their lives aren’t my concern anyway. Gotham’s a cesspit; the sooner it burns out, the better.
Her actual answer, though, was exactly what Lyla had hoped to hear.
Lyla’s lips curved slightly. As a governnt operative, she despised the unaccountable “superhero” types—those who refused oversight, acted above the law, and answered only to their own egos.
People like Thea Queen—rational, structured, capable of seeing the bigger picture—were far more useful.
“If Batman returns and disagrees with your thods?” Lyla pressed. “What then?”
That question struck closer to the bone.
Thea hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Her plan was simple: hold the line, stabilize Gotham, then disappear before the Dark Knight could lecture her about “principles.”
Still, she couldn’t say that out loud.
“If results speak for themselves, I doubt he’ll object,” she said after a pause. “Assuming there are no major complications, the unrest could be under control within a month.”
(And by then, she added silently, I’ll be long gone.)
She’d already told Felicity to keep tabs on a few “wealthy fugitives”—Penguin among them. Once things cald down, they’d make a quiet withdrawal… with bonuses attached.
The two won continued walking, conversation drifting toward politics, logistics, and the uneasy balance between heroism and governance.
Lyla’s mission was to observe, but she found herself unexpectedly… impressed.
Thea spoke with conviction, but without arrogance. Her strategic mind was sharp, her reasoning pragmatic.
By the ti they reached the holding area, the atmosphere between them had softened.
Thea even slipped in a few wry jokes from her “previous life” that sohow fit Gotham’s bleak absurdity perfectly, earning Lyla’s first genuine laugh in days.
When the topic shifted to Lyla’s own military career, Thea listened intently—especially when missiles ca up.
Halfway through, she was already calculating: Missiles are out of reach, strictly military… maybe I really am stuck with arrows.
Before leaving, Lyla smiled faintly. “I’ll be stationed in Gotham for a while. I hope we can talk again soon.”
Later that night, Lyla climbed into her car, expression smoothing into the disciplined calm of a field agent. She initiated a secure connection.
“Director Waller,” she said crisply. “Initial contact complete. The results are more promising than we expected.”
Amanda Waller’s image flickered onto the screen—a composed woman with eyes like razors. “Oh? Tell .”
“She’s intelligent. Grounded. And interestingly enough—she’s anti-heroic. She rejects individual heroism, advocates for collective defense, and has already mobilized Gotham civilians against the chaos. I’m transmitting images now—look, they’ve erected barricades throughout the downtown sector.”
A rare smirk touched Lyla’s lips. “When Batman returns, his face will be sothing to see.”
Amanda didn’t smile. She simply nodded once, voice calm and low.
“And Killer Croc?”
“Frozen solid. Our on-site analysts confirm liquid nitrogen was used. She weaponized it on the field.”
That, at least, earned a flicker of genuine intrigue from Amanda.
“Our scientists are impressed,” Lyla added. “They’re already drafting a proposal to issue portable nitrogen rounds to all field agents. Nonlethal, clean, and devastatingly effective.”
Amanda chuckled—a low, approving sound.
“Excellent,” she said. “Keep observing Miss Queen.”
A pause. Then, with a hint of satisfaction—
“She may be… exactly the kind of ally we’ve been waiting for.”
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