A Queen Among Heroes

[ Abandoned Amusement Park, Gotham city ]

With Commissioner Gordon joining their talk show, the sparring match between the women came to a natural halt. Barbara managed to end the bout with a semblance of dignity, declaring, rather diplomatically, that she hadn't lost. Of course, anyone with functioning eyesight knew exactly how one-sided things had been—but at least her pride remained intact.

She didn't even try to stand and greet her father. Instead, she collapsed on the grass with all the grace of a fallen scarecrow. Had the fight continued another minute, she would've passed out. Her thoughts were a blur, her body drenched in sweat, and her limbs sprawled like someone in the final stages of an emotional breakdown. Even though her family wasn't particularly religious, at that moment only one phrase echoed in her head: God bless me.

It felt like some higher power had intervened, a presence beyond time and space that had looked down and thought, Enough humiliation for today, child. Perhaps she owed that being a favor? Maybe some kind of mission was waiting for her? The thought was oddly comforting, if delirious.

Thea, on the other hand, felt no divine revelation. To her, it was just a casual spar. She was about to offer a polite handshake or maybe even a respectful fist bump—standard etiquette after any match, even with Shiva, no matter how many bruises they traded. But when she glanced over and saw Barbara's current state—legs sprawled, arms limp, red hair plastered to her neck like she'd just emerged from a sewer—the gesture died in her throat. It would've looked more like mockery than respect.

"Hey, are you guys listening?" Felicity's voice came through the earpiece, a little uncertain. With the drone having returned after the Killer Croc fight, she had no idea a dramatic and spirited sparring session had taken place during the intermission.

"Yes, everyone's here," Robin replied. Usually, Barbara would've been the one to respond first, but she was too busy impersonating a melted candle. Catwoman and Thea didn't seem interested in being the first to speak either, so the task fell to the ever-reliable boy wonder.

Felicity made a vague sound of acknowledgment. "Oh... okay. Shall we get started?" She had already explained the whole situation to Commissioner Gordon.

Thus began the unofficial Gotham version of the Six-Party Talks—not a summit on nuclear arms or global conflict, but a far more grounded and pressing issue: how best to shelter and adopt one very large, very disgruntled, and currently frozen Killer Croc.

As the de facto leader, Thea refrained from speaking first and instead gave a soft "Ahm" into the earpiece.

Felicity, Thea's number one henchwoman or the only henchwoman instantly understood the signal and jumped in without missing a beat. Her voice came crisply through the earpiece, laced with mock enthusiasm. "If you Gotham folks aren't too attached to this thing, we'd be happy to haul him over to Star City. Where we'd be happy to provide Killer Croc a long-term care."

Barbara, still lying on the ground, narrowed her eyes. "What kind of care?"

"Oh, we've got options!" Felicity replied enthusiastically. "Our Queen Consolidated Applied Sciences division is just itching for a new project. We've got cryogenic drills, surgical-grade lasers, pressure-resistant cages, and enough voltage to make Frankenstein blush. I'm telling you, this big guy'll feel right at home."

There was a stunned silence.

"...You want to dissect him," Robin said blankly.

Felicity gasped. "Nooo! I mean—yes? Maybe! Look, I'm not saying we definitely want to poke and prod the big lizard, but we do have 1,500 workers currently under contract and crying for hands-on experience. Some of them haven't touched a real meta-organism all fiscal year!"

Catwoman burst out laughing. "You make it sound like you're rescuing a stray dog, not offering up a science buffet."

"And," Felicity added, warming to her pitch, "if you're worried about logistics—don't be! We don't even need machines. We've got manpower. Real manpower. We can roll logs, lash ropes, and haul this guy out the old-fashioned way. Like ancient Egypt. Workers pulling in sync, shouting in rhythm—it'll be majestic. A parade."

"Absolutely not!" Barbara suddenly barked, shooting to her feet with a burst of defensive energy.

Everyone turned.

"Croc may be a monster," she continued, voice sharp and proud, "but he's our monster. He's lived in our sewers, terrorized our streets, bitten our officers. He eats Gotham food. He breathes Gotham air. He belongs to Gotham."

Felicity was quiet for a beat. "Wow. That's… a passionate case for city pride. You guys putting him on a stamp next?"

"If you absolutely must have something," Barbara added stiffly, "for, I don't know, science or soup recipes, then maybe—maybe—we'll send a blood sample. Later. After the trial. And after the autopsy. But you're not carting him away like some Gotham souvenir."

Thea tilted her head, hiding her amusement. Guess the line's been drawn.

She had no counterargument. Heroes here had a code: every city cleaned up its own monsters. She might not agree with it, but she understood it. If the Bat-family wanted to own this responsibility, it wasn't her place to object. Honestly, she didn't have much interest in Killer Croc anyway. The idea of extracting blood to manufacture enhancers was tempting on paper, but one look at his grotesque physique screamed side effects may include death.

Barbara, for her part, felt a wave of relief. Thea's quiet retreat made her resistance feel justified. Truthfully, she hadn't been confident about rejecting them so firmly—especially given how little they'd contributed in the actual fight.

Sure, Felicity had launched the verbal barrage that started it all, but she and Robin had mostly served as echo chambers. The real damage had been done by Thea alone, and it was obvious.

Still, with Thea silently yielding and the Star city duo implicitly acknowledging Gotham's authority over Killer Croc, Barbara felt as though she'd won a quiet diplomatic battle. It was enough to soothe her pride, and her feelings toward the Star City duo improved just a little.

"Dad, do you have any ideas?" Barbara groaned as she flopped back into a sitting position, legs sprawled like a puppet with cut strings. Her voice was flat, exhausted. "Because if not, I'm seriously about to vote for 'leave it here and let spring handle it.'"

She didn't even glance at the massive ice cube anymore.

As far as she was concerned, as long as it stayed in Gotham, it could be sent to the Mayor's bedroom for all she cared. Right now, all she wanted was a hot bath and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Commissioner Gordon didn't answer right away because he was genuinely troubled as he stared at the picture of massive block of ice on the laptop screen as if hoping it would melt under the weight of his disappointment.

"I'm a cop," he muttered finally. "Not a foreman. This is outside the jurisdiction of my clipboard."

Logistics like this weren't exactly in his wheelhouse—after all, even after his wife left, he hadn't had time to deal with personal matters, let alone oversee heavy lifting operations.

"I can get you a clipboard," Felicity offered helpfully through the comms. "One with a Gotham PD logo. Oooh—leather binding."

He sighed. "Appreciate the offer. But unless that clipboard comes with hydraulics, we're still hauling a frozen mutant the size of a car. And this sort of manual labor was definitely better suited to construction workers, not law enforcement."

That's when it hit him.

"Wait… how many people did you say you can pull from the Star City?"

"Fifteen hundred!" Felicity chirped proudly. "All healthy, overworked, underpaid, and blessed with the upper body strength of caffeine-fueled tech bros."

He squinted at the ice again. "We've got bodies. Idle ones. Gotham university's still packed with evacuees. We'll pull it ourselves."

He thought. If Star City could do it, so could us.

Barbara blinked. "Dad. You're not seriously suggesting we build a human towing rig—"

"We're doing it," he said firmly. "Logs. Ropes. Elbow grease. Gotham pride."

Robin clapped once. "Yes! Team Gotham, assemble!"

Selina muttered under her breath, "Oh, this city…"

[ An hour later ]

Thea soared overhead on her skateboard, a taut rope harnessed to the hovering board. Down below, dozens of volunteers dragged the massive ice block slowly along makeshift tracks made from tree trunks. The whole scene looked like a crossover between The Ten Commandments and Fast & Furious: Ice Drift.

After an exhausting effort that lasted nearly an hour, they managed to drag the ton-heavy ice block from the lake to the road and load it onto a truck. By the time they returned to the university, everyone looked like they'd aged a year.

...

[ Gotham University, Gotham City ]

Children cheered from sidewalks after seeing the large ice block.

"What is that, Mommy?"

One girl tugged on her mom's coat.

The woman peered at the glistening iceberg. "Uh… probably an early Christmas present…."

Another boy ran past with a plastic spoon. "I heard it's a giant snow cone!"

Thea, from above, sighed. If only you knew…

The arrival of the massive block of ice stirred up quite the commotion at the university. Many of the kids from sheltering families had never seen anything like it and ran circles around it, pelting their parents with endless questions. The adults, equally clueless, scrambled for creative explanations. Some guessed it was a top-secret weapon. Others speculated that the commissioner was preparing to hand out free shaved ice. No one guessed the truth—that inside the ice was a living, very unhappy humanoid crocodile.

With the mission officially completed, the team quickly disbanded.

Barbara vanished without another word, probably teleporting herself straight into a hot shower. Robin beelined for the dorms, muttering something about needing "twelve layers of soap and a minor exorcism." Thea lazily waved them off and headed to bed herself.

Catwoman, however, wasn't done.

She sidled up to Felicity like a cat that had spotted a mouse crawling across a jewelry counter.

"Hey, Smoak," she purred casually. "You got any gadgets that can verify authenticity of paintings? And maybe sculptures too?"

"Hey, Smoak," she purred casually. "You got any gadgets that can verify paintings? Maybe sculptures too?"

Felicity blinked, confused but not fooled. "Like… authenticity scanners?"

"Exactly," Selina said with a grin. "I'm planning to… borrow some exhibits. You know, help the local economy."

"Uh-huh. By 'borrow' you mean—?"

"Borrow," she emphasized, eyes sparkling. "With the full intent of appreciating their cultural significance and then reselling them for survival funds. The jewelry market's ice cold lately. Literally. No one wants to leave their panic room wearing a diamond choker. Art, however? The market's still booming."

Lately, she'd grown envious of Thea's flying skateboard. Though she still had money, keeping up appearances while moonlighting as a philanthropist was draining her accounts faster than expected. And no matter how much wealth Bruce Wayne had, none of it trickled down to her—not while she and Talia were still waging a passive-aggressive war over the Wayne name. The moment Talia showed up in Gotham cradling a child, Selina could practically hear the surname slipping through her claws.

Since becoming Selina Wayne was clearly going to take time—and several small miracles—she figured she might as well finance her dreams the old-fashioned way: with profit. Once she had enough cash, she could either buy a skateboard outright or pull in a favor from Bruce to have one made.

And with Gotham's wealthy elite now hiding behind their mansion walls, the once-booming jewelry trade had collapsed. That left only one viable alternative: the art world—a world she wasn't exactly fluent in, but was more than willing to conquer.

To Be Continued...

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