Thea thought for a mont, then turned to Felicity.
“Pull up the campus surveillance feeds and the traffic cams on the nearby roads.”
It didn’t take long. Within minutes, Felicity, still bleary-eyed and half-asleep, found sothing.
“Here — 3:15 a.m. Three trucks left the university heading north on Sixth Avenue. After that, they just… vanish.”
Thea rubbed her temples. Over a hundred people gone.
Part of her wanted to shrug — maybe they just went out for breakfast? — but no. Nobody drags off a hundred people for pancakes.
If they’d taken that many from here, how many more had been taken elsewhere?
The implication was obvious: whoever was behind this wasn’t done.
“All right,” she said, shifting into command mode. “Commissioner Gordon — send your best n to the last known location. Look for tire tracks, witnesses, anything.”
The old man nodded. Investigations were his departnt.
Thea turned to Lyla. “And get A.R.G.U.S.’s lab team working on those gas-mask filters. Whatever neutralizing compound they used must bind directly to the fear toxin. Extract it, make portable detectors, and use them to trace the toxin’s concentration through the city. That should mark their escape route.”
Lyla’s brows knit, but she nodded — she understood enough.
Thea’s gaze moved last to the “Bat-family” trio.
“As for you three — we’ve got plenty of prisoners. You know what to do.”
Barbara, Robin, and Selina exchanged glances. Oh, they knew exactly what she ant. Interrogation, Gotham-style: cuffs, threats, maybe a crowbar or two.
Thea herself thought it was a barbaric thod — slow, inefficient, ssy — but at least it kept them occupied.
“Good. Then we’ll split up—” she began, ready to dismiss the group and finally crash into bed. She still hadn’t gotten over being woken up from that glorious dream of punching Superman in power armor.
That was when the command-van door slamd open with a tallic clang.
A tall, broad-shouldered Black man with silver hair rushed in, panting.
Thea instinctively stiffened. Who the hell—?
Her first thought was that soone had found out her identity — she was already calculating whether to knock him out or drag him into storage — but the others looked unfazed. Apparently, he wasn’t an enemy.
“Lucius, what’s wrong?” Gordon asked, startled.
Lucius? Thea blinked. For half a second, the na conjured “Lucius Malfoy” and Death Eaters, but then she rembered: Lucius Fox. She’d seen his photo once at Queen Industries. CEO — or was it vice-president? — of Wayne Enterprises.
The old man was out of breath. Felicity, ever the helpful one, handed him a cup of water.
“Thank you,” Lucius gasped, taking a sip. “Jas, you need to co with — right now!”
The two elderly n — with a combined age of nearly one-hundred-twenty — looked for all the world like a pair of fugitives planning to elope. Thea quickly stepped in their way.
“Uh, sorry, what’s going on? Maybe start with why you’re kidnapping my only detective?”
Lucius blinked, thrown off. Who’s this girl? Did I run into the wrong trailer?
He looked around — the others were all familiar faces — and frowned, more confused than ever.
Gordon, ever the steady one, finally spoke. “Lucius, calm down. You can trust them. Whatever it is, say it here.”
Lucius hesitated, then sighed. “All right… though I doubt any of you can really help. I just got word — Talia’s calling an ergency board eting this morning. She plans to announce Bruce’s disappearance… and confirm her son as heir to his shares in Wayne Enterprises.”
Silence fell over the cabin.
Lyla and Felicity exchanged looks — not their circus, not their monkeys.
Technically, the boy was Batman’s son. From a legal standpoint, inheritance was airtight.
Gordon, Barbara, and Robin all looked uncomfortable. It was family business, and none of them had the right — or the grounds — to interfere. Talia’s public move had been ruthless and perfectly tid. With the League of Assassins’ information network spreading the story worldwide, everyone already knew the boy’s parentage.
Even Superman and the Martian Manhunter had probably heard by now — if they weren’t busy, they’d have shown up with congratulatory fruit baskets.
Catwoman’s reaction, though, was a different story.
Her face went pale, her jaw tight, and her gloved fingers clenched until the joints cracked.
Gordon tried gently, “Lucius, even if we want to stop her… there’s nothing we can do.”
“Wait,” Thea interjected. “Let get this straight. None of you want Talia’s son to inherit, right? Who exactly does that include?”
Lucius sighed. “, Alfred… and, well, Selina, obviously.”
Selina’s teeth ground audibly. Obviously.
She might not have loved Bruce for his money, but the thought of all that fortune — all those years she’d spent risking her neck beside him — now flowing straight into Talia’s hands?
It made her blood boil.
Barbara, seeing her fury, surprised even herself. “I’m against it too,” she said quickly.
Robin nodded beside her, shifting from neutral to firmly opposed.
“Count in as well,” Gordon added, more out of loyalty than logic. “But honestly… even if we all oppose her, it won’t make a difference.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Talia al Ghul’s move had been perfectly executed — and in Gotham, money and legacy could be sharper weapons than any blade.
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