Originally, Thea had planned to fake a retreat—lure the enemy out of Arkham and ambush them outside.
But thanks to Mr. Freeze turning the entire exit into a frozen fortress, that plan was now completely scrapped.
Firefly clearly wanted to bail, but Thea wouldn’t let her. Half-dragging, half-coaxing, she got the woman back onto the command truck.
This fiery lunatic was a valuable asset now—until Thea figured out how to deal with Freeze, there was no way she’d let her slip away.
After a few minutes of “gentle reasoning” (and so not-so-gentle logic from Catwoman), Firefly reluctantly agreed to stay.
Inside the vehicle, no one spoke.
Each of them sat lost in thought, quietly replaying the battle’s chaos in their minds.
Thea broke the silence by pulling out the prize she’d taken earlier—the ornate black longsword she’d recovered from the late “Angel of Death.”
She gave the blade a light tap with her finger; it responded with a low, resonant hum.
She couldn’t tell what it was made of, but it looked ancient—eighty-five centiters of dark tal, just over a ter total including the hilt.
Its design was that of a traditional English broadsword, though thinner and sharper-edged, suited equally for thrusting and slashing.
Etched into the guard in flowing Latin script were the words: Sword of Azrael.
“So that maniac nad himself after his sword, huh?” Thea muttered.
“Well, he’s dead now—guess the na’s available.”
She gave it a few light swings. The balance was perfect—not too heavy, not too light.
For her build and strength, it was just right.
“Must be fate,” she said with a grin.
Her companions turned to watch her, if only out of curiosity.
Firefly and Lyla lost interest quickly—neither cared much for dieval hardware.
But the rest of the Bat-family couldn’t help glancing more than once.
“That’s Azrael’s sword, isn’t it?” Robin finally asked.
He still rembered it vividly—the blade that had nearly carved through the GCPD earlier that night.
But he’d been too far away to see Thea’s fight with its forr owner, so now he just sounded confused.
Thea shot him a look but didn’t bother replying.
What do you an “Azrael’s sword”? she thought.
From a legal, moral, and entirely practical standpoint—it was hers now.
Whoever Azrael was didn’t matter. She didn’t even know the guy.
She was just about to sheath the sword when Catwoman’s sharp eyes caught sothing.
“The scabbard,” Selina said, her voice low. “You took that too?”
Thea blinked, a little wary of her tone.
“…Why? Is there sothing wrong with it?”
Sothing wrong? Not even close.
Catwoman’s gaze lingered on the scabbard, her thief’s instincts flaring.
The entire sheath glittered with inlaid gemstones—eralds, rubies, sapphires, all real. All expensive.
Her rational mind told her to look away.
Her eyes refused to obey.
Just one more glance, she told herself. Maybe two… okay, three.
Because really—when it ca to shiny things, won and dragons weren’t so different.
Even Firefly’s eyes drifted toward it, dazzled by the play of colors.
Lyla, the professional agent, tried to remain composed but couldn’t help sneaking a side glance.
Barbara, who ca from a comfortable but modest background, wasn’t immune either.
She stared for a mont, sighed in envy, then turned back to chat quietly with Robin.
But for the two who grew up scraping by—Catwoman and Firefly—that jeweled scabbard was hypnotic.
Felicity, who prided herself on being the “fashion face” of Team Arrow, was practically vibrating.
Her outfit changed three tis a day, her earrings once a day—and now she was clinging to Thea’s sleeve, eyes sparkling.
“This sword sheath,” she whispered breathlessly, “it wants to be with .”
Catwoman’s expression wasn’t far off—hers was just greedier.
She wasn’t even trying to hide the ntal math she was doing.
That thing could sell for a fortune, she thought bitterly.
And it ended up in the hands of a Star City brat. A legitimate “battle trophy,” too. I can’t even steal it with a straight face.
Thea had zero intention of sharing.
“Finders keepers” was her current financial policy.
She was broke enough as it was, and that scabbard was either her next weapon upgrade or her next payday.
Either way, not for sharing.
To steer the conversation away from her shiny loot, Thea decided to talk strategy.
“What do you guys think of those enhanced humans? Ever fought anything like them before?”
The group exchanged looks, then—almost in unison—shook their heads.
Not because the mutants weren’t dangerous, but because none of them had fought any before.
So much for insight.
Thea sighed inwardly.
If Arkham had hundreds of those things hidden underground, there was no way she could hold them all off.
Fortunately, Gordon—veteran of a thousand Gotham nightmares—spoke up.
“I’ve seen their kind,” he said gravely. “Back in the day, they ca in all sorts. So could age people on touch. So ssed with your mind. But they all needed physical contact.”
He paused, frowning in thought.
“These new ones… I think they’re simpler. Just stronger, tougher, faster. No psychic tricks.”
“That’s… good to know.” Thea nodded. “Any idea how to deal with them?”
The old commissioner hesitated, then scratched his head.
“Well, back then, I just… hit them. With a stick.”
Thea blinked.
Barbara looked away.
Even Robin winced.
“So your grand tactical solution,” Thea said slowly, “was to… beat them with a stick.”
He shrugged. “Worked fine at the ti.”
She had to fight the urge to cover her face.
No wonder Barbara had inherited that “charge first, plan later” gene.
This was where it ca from.
But his answer wasn’t useless—it just wasn’t scalable.
A few enhanced thugs she could handle; a few hundred were a different story.
Turning back to Felicity, she asked, “You said they gave off radiation before they appeared?”
“Yeah,” Felicity replied, scrolling through her readings. “It wasn’t super high, but definitely there.”
“So what, they’re being enhanced through… nuclear material?” Thea asked.
She glanced at Gordon, hoping his ancient Gotham wisdom might pull through.
The nearly-retired commissioner frowned, thinking hard.
But it had been over twenty years since that old experint.
He’d never cared about how Arkham’s freaks were made—only about putting them behind bars.
Eventually, he sighed and shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t rember.”
Thea didn’t bla him.
Even if he did rember, science moved fast. Two decades ant entirely new thods, new horrors.
Still, she had a theory.
She’d been studying weapons of mass destruction recently—and nuclear tech was at the top of her notes.
“Alright,” she said at last, snapping her fingers.
“Let’s mount a Geiger counter on one of the drones. I want a full radiation scan of the site.”
She turned to her Star City teammate—
“Felicity, can you handle it?”
“Sure,” the hacker said, already opening her laptop.
Then Thea paused, glancing at the Gotham crew.
“…You do have a Geiger counter, right?”
Everyone stared blankly.
A chorus of confused faces—heroes who’d gone from “normal citizen” to “vigilante” without any idea how radiation even worked.
Fortunately, Lyla spoke up.
“We’ve got one. ARGUS keeps a few in our field kits. I’ll have soone bring it over.”
“Perfect,” Thea said with a relieved nod.
Maybe, just maybe, she could still turn this chaotic ss into a scientific victory.
Reviews
All reviews (0)