Week 1 | Day 3 — Gotham — Past Midnight — Wayne Tech — Orach's Lab 1
The successful shuttle demonstration energized Orach's Antarctic facility
The team celebrated their achievement before diving into new assignments—some tied to his secret League project, others to Wayne Tech contracts that Lucius was negotiating worldwide.
Back in Gotham, Orach's primary research team refocused on their remaining initiatives, the advanced filtration system and the theoretical groundwork for terraforming technology. Under Orach's guidance, they were making solid progress on filtration, but the terraforming project required significant timeline adjustments.
Despite attempts by Wayne Tech employees outside his team—former friends and colleagues—to pry into his projects, Orach's researchers remained tight-lipped. This loyalty stemmed not from fear, but from genuine respect earned over time. While outsiders pitied them for their demanding schedules, the team members saw the bigger picture. They'd witnessed firsthand the massive improvements in their own lives and their loved ones' lives thanks to their contributions. Neither Orach nor Wayne Tech treated employees unfairly, and Orach's team consistently produced groundbreaking work that brought recognition and opportunities to Wayne Tech. Understanding this, Lucius Fox and Bruce Wayne made it a point to ensure the team had no complaints—a gesture that only deepened their loyalty.
Following the shuttle's successful development, Orach restructured the team for optimal work distribution. Victor Fries remained lead on Hyperspace development, with Dr. Alistair Vane as his second-in-command. Dr. Elena Rossi, Lead Chemical Engineer, now headed the Filtration project alongside Silas, the team's Hydrologist. Dr. Genevieve Laroque, a Planetary Ecologist, led the Terraforming initiative with Dr. Arthur Sterling. These were his new team leads, each directing their own groups of researchers and engineers to bring their projects to life.
The terraforming team, however, faced significant challenges. Despite their brilliance, the theoretical framework proved difficult to grasp even with Orach's guidance. He could have offered more direct assistance, but he had his principles—his team needed to discover their own solutions. For weeks now, Orach and Mother Empress had been searching for a specialist who could not only support the team but potentially co-lead alongside Dr. Genevieve or even take the helm entirely.
Tonight, with Diana and Rachel off-world, Orach stayed in his Wayne Tech office reviewing team reports. Holographic projections of commercial spacecraft designs floated before him—vessels his team had created for agencies worldwide, awaiting his final approval before Lucius presented them.
He waved his hand, dismissing the displays after approving the three designs. "Any update on the candidate list?"
Mother Empress's voice responded in his ears. "Yes. One candidate stands out significantly from the rest."
A woman's projection materialized above his desk, surrounded by cascading streams of holographic data.
"So it's her," Orach murmured, leaning back in his chair.
"Yes, Young Master." A miniature projection of Mother Empress appeared on his desk. "She's the best candidate by far. Her expertise in botany, combined with her unique abilities, her deep understanding of flora, soil composition, atmospheric conditions, and genetic engineering makes her ideal as Lead Specialist of Bio-Organic Systems for the Terraforming team."
"Dr. Pamela Isley..." Orach nodded slowly, studying the cascading data streams. "She and Dr. Harley Quinn vanished from Gotham weeks after the Thanagarian invasion ended. Have you located them?"
"Yes. They're in Europe. While the continent has mostly recovered from the Thanagarian invasion on the surface, security across these countries has deteriorated. Criminal elements now thrive in the shadows. Meanwhile, your presence in Gotham acts as an absolute deterrent—and with Batman now partnering with Cheetah, they've become a formidable force both day and night. Together with you, they've terrorized the criminal underworld. Most criminals have either gone deep underground or fled the city entirely. Only the deeply rooted organizations remain, and they're being squeezed into an ever-tightening corner."
"They're a ticking time bomb," Orach said, drumming his fingers on the armrest. "Soon, desperation and pride will collide—and when they do, Gotham will face a reckoning."
"Exactly. Especially that organization. They won't go quietly." Mother Empress paused. "Should I expose them, or provide Bruce and Barbara with our intelligence and scenario analysis?"
Orach considered this for a moment, then shook his head. "Whatever happens, they'll emerge stronger from it. We'll keep working from the shadows. The day you and I ascend to the Higher Realms is approaching. They need to grow stronger on their own."
The footage showed Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn locked in a passionate embrace. Mother Empress had accessed the hotel room's systems to locate them, now displaying the live feed through the technology present in the room.
"Just what are you doing?" came a gravelly voice from the doorway.
"Planning a recruitment," Orach said calmly, unsurprised. He'd sensed Batman's presence long before he entered, and Mother Empress monitored everything within the building and its vicinity. He gestured casually at the display. "Did you know about this?"
Bruce frowned and stepped into the office, moving closer for a clearer view of the footage. His eyes narrowed when he recognized the entangled figures. "You found Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn."
"Yes. I've been considering recruiting someone for the terraforming project. I can guide my teams, but I won't spoon-feed them answers—they need to solve problems themselves. However, they're struggling, so I thought of her. Mother Empress located them in Paris." He paused, glancing at the display. "Didn't expect to find them like this, though. Good for them."
"I see. No, I didn't know their relationship had evolved to this point." Bruce turned to face him. "But Orach, this is an invasion of privacy. How long do you plan to watch?"
"You really think I'm interested in this?" Orach asked, amused. His head rested on his left hand, eyes meeting Bruce's with a sidelong glance.
"...Frankly, no." Bruce studied the footage more carefully, scanning every detail. After a moment, his eyes narrowed. "Are you looking at something else?" He leaned closer. "Is that... gold bars?"
"Correct." Mother Empress zoomed in on the periphery of the footage, revealing stacked gold bars barely visible in the frame. "After being pardoned and escaping Gotham, they began a journey through Europe. I've traced their activity—from Germany to France, there have been robberies all along their route. They're making the most of Europe's current instability and living their best life."
She waved her hand, and additional evidence materialized. "No matter how clever or careful they think they're being, I can still find proof. This evidence alone could put them behind bars. The plan is to bring them back to Gotham and negotiate. If needed, we'll use this to ensure they understand that working for us is in their best interest." Her voice turned cold at the end.
Bruce's jaw tightened beneath his cowl as he watched Orach simply smile back at him.
'I can only pray for those two now that they've caught the attention of these two,' Bruce thought, sighing internally. He nodded. "Fine. Better than letting them continue their robbery spree across Europe. I'll inform Lucius you're recruiting another team member."
Orach nodded in acknowledgment. Mother Empress dismissed the projections with a wave of her hand.
Orach shifted in his seat, his tone turning playful. "So, why is Batman in my office at 3 AM instead of patrolling rooftops or keeping his Cheetah warm in bed?"
Bruce's expression turned grave. "There's something I need to tell you."
Bruce proceeded to explain everything — from the heist, his months-long investigation, their conversation with Bobo earlier that night, and their plans moving forward.
Orach listened calmly, his expression gradually becoming blank and unreadable. Bruce knew this look well—it signified when Orach was at his most dangerous. The news that Trigon had obtained a fragment of the Dreamstone—something Orach had specifically warned was dangerous, something they'd lost despite his trust—had clearly angered him. Bruce steeled himself, prepared to bear whatever wrath came his way.
Instead, Orach simply said, "Thank you for telling me."
Bruce froze, stunned. Then, after a moment, his expression returned to its usual calm. "You already knew, didn't you?"
"I knew it was stolen. I've been aware of the League's movements." Orach shook his head slightly. "But I didn't care to know the specifics. You know I prefer not to interfere with your world's natural progression. What I'm doing now—advancing your technology—I'm doing in a controlled manner, allowing your race to arrive at the answers themselves. Why do you think I bother recruiting and running teams when I could simply hand you the solutions?"
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening. "Unless it's a threat from outside this realm or something that directly endangers my family, I won't interfere. These are challenges you and the League must overcome on your own."
His voice dropped, growing noticeably colder. "In short, you made the mess. Now clean it up."
Bruce held Orach's cold gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Understood. We're already planning to handle Orm. But what I need to know is your stance on Trigon. Will you make a move to deal with him before he approaches Rachel?"
Orach shook his head. "Trigon is not mine to destroy."
Bruce's eyes narrowed. "You're seriously going to let Rachel fight him?"
"Yes," Orach said, meeting his gaze. "She needs to be the one to face him. Only then will she truly be free of his shadow and reach her full potential. I won't interfere."
Bruce's fists clenched. "You mentioned that stone fragment can open breaches to other realms. What if Trigon decides to flee and wreak havoc elsewhere?"
"He won't have enough time to gather the power needed," Orach replied calmly. "The stone fragment is weak—channeling enough energy to bridge realms takes serious preparation and power. Even if he somehow managed it, his pride won't let him run. Not before he tries to settle the score with me. Which will never happen."
"Fine. But, what if he uses it to travel through the multiverse within this realm?" Bruce pressed. "If that stone can warp reality, he could hop between universes, destroying lives across them. Can you really sit by while that's a possibility?"
"Are you seriously asking me that?" Orach's eyes narrowed. "Bruce. Trigon was born in this realm. The stone was created here. Whatever destruction he causes is part of this realm's natural progression. It's better if someone from this realm deals with him, not me."
His voice remained measured, but his eyes flashed crimson. "I've given this world tools, technology, and knowledge. I've trained heroes, supported the League, and defended it when you were overwhelmed. But I won't solve every problem for you. If I did, you'd grow dependent—weak. And when I'm gone, what then?"
He stood and walked to the window overlooking Gotham. "Rachel needs to face Trigon herself. I'm not being cruel—you know I love that girl—but this battle will define who she becomes. In her heart, it's the final step to truly claim her place as my daughter, as princess of House Gula."
His reflection wavered in the glass.
"I've told her she has nothing to prove," he continued, his voice softer. "She is my daughter. She knows that. She carries herself with that pride. But there's still a part of her weighed down by everything—the anger, the need for vengeance, the terror of what she witnessed."
He paused, his expression darkening. "And the guilt. Guilt over what Trigon did to her mother, to Azarath. Guilt for unknowingly leading him there. Self-loathing for being too weak to stop it—for only being able to cry and beg while everyone she loved was slaughtered before her eyes."
He turned to meet Bruce's gaze. "You should understand that better than most."
Bruce stayed quiet.
"That's why she needs to face him," Orach said firmly. "Not for me—for herself. To let go of that burden and step fully into who she's meant to be, free from his shadow."
He turned to face Bruce directly. "Every warrior has their crucible. We both know that all too well. Rachel's is coming, and I won't take it from her."
Bruce was silent for a long moment. "And if she fails?"
"Then I step in," Orach said simply. "I'm her father. I won't let her die. But she won't fail. She's stronger than you think. Stronger than she believes."
Bruce studied his face, searching for doubt. Finding none, he nodded slowly. "Fine. But if this goes wrong—"
"It won't," Orach interrupted. "Focus on Orm, Bruce. That's your fight. Trigon is Rachel's. When the time comes, she'll have Diana by her side. And me, watching from the shadows."
Bruce turned toward the door, then paused. "One more thing." His voice dropped. "If Trigon uses that fragment to jump between universes and starts racking up a body count before Rachel can stop him—that blood's on your hands too."
Orach's expression didn't waver. "I know. And I'll carry that weight, just as you carry the weight of every criminal you didn't stop, every victim you couldn't save. We make hard choices, Bruce. This is mine."
Bruce said nothing more. He nodded once and left, his cape billowing as he disappeared into the shadows.
Alone again, Orach returned to his chair. Mother Empress's projection reappeared beside him.
"How dare he," she said, her tone cold. "After everything we've done for this world—for him—he dares to manipulate you like this."
Bruce was among the few humans who understood Orach—alongside Diana and Rachel. That's what made his approach so calculated. He knew exactly which buttons to push.
"It's fine," Orach said, shaking his head. "Bruce has been with Barbara for a while now. Our families are close. In his own way, I think he sees Rachel as his niece. So I'm choosing to believe this was his attempt to protect her—by pushing me to eliminate Trigon preemptively. Besides, he's not entirely wrong."
Mother Empress's expression softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. "According to our intel, Trigon isn't just any demon lord—he's a High Lord, on par with the Arch Princes of Hell. Given his power and cunning, it won't take him long to figure out how to use that stone." She paused. "Once he does, he could tear through entire universes in this realm. There's a real chance he'll grow even stronger than before."
She met Orach's gaze. "So I understand where Bruce is coming from. But that still doesn't excuse what he just tried to pull."
As Orach's partner, she understood the weight he carried. The Great Android War had claimed countless lives—those he'd been forced to take, those he couldn't save, and those who'd fallen under his command, trusting him with everything. She knew her young master bore the weight of every single soul, yet he pressed forward despite it all.
What Bruce had done tonight crossed a line. He could never truly understand the burden Orach carried—yet he'd still tried to weaponize that guilt, manipulating him into action. That was unforgivable.
She wouldn't forget this. And when the time came, she'd make certain Bruce understood exactly what he'd done.
"I know," Orach said quietly. "But some lessons can only be learned through fire. Rachel's destiny isn't to be protected from Trigon—it's to overcome him. And she will."
Mother Empress was silent for a moment before speaking. "Shall I have Crescent deploy Void Sentinel's probes? We can send a universal pulse throughout this realm to monitor for anomalies across its various universes."
"Yes. Do that," Orach replied. "And keep an eye on Orm. Whether in Barry's timeline or this one, Arthur's brother seems destined to cause trouble." He paused, considering. "Also, prepare the extraction plan for Isley and Quinn. We move tomorrow. Let them have this night."
"Understood."
Mother Empress's projection vanished, leaving Orach alone in the quiet room.
Orach leaned back, his gaze distant. In the grand scheme of things, Trigon was barely a threat—hardly worth his attention. But for Rachel, he was so much more. The monster from her childhood nightmares. The demon who murdered her mother and destroyed old Azarath, her first home. The shadow that had haunted her from the moment she understood what she was—until the day she met Orach and finally felt safe.
And Orach would give her the chance to end that shadow forever. Because sometimes, the greatest gift a father could give wasn't protection—it was the opportunity to prove you were strong enough not to need it.
Week 1 | Day 4 — Paris, France — Dawn
Sunlight filtered through the hotel curtains as Pamela stirred awake, her arm draped across Harley. She watched Harley's chest rise and fall, listened to her soft breathing, and let herself simply exist in the moment—a rare luxury in their chaotic lives.
Harley's eyes fluttered open, a lazy grin spreading across her face. "Mornin', Red."
"Morning," Pamela murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Sleep well?"
"Like a baby." Harley stretched contentedly before propping herself up on one elbow. "So what's the plan? More sightseeing? That fancy museum you've been dying to check out?"
"Honestly? After last night, I'm exhausted. Maybe we just stay in today."
"Oh yeah?" Harley's grin widened as her hand slid beneath the sheets. "Room service and quality time? Now that's what I'm talkin' about."
Pamela's breath hitched as Harley's fingers traced slowly along her inner thigh, moving higher and higher. "Harley…" she gasped softly.
"Mmm?" Harley leaned down, her lips brushing against Pamela's neck as her fingers slipped between her legs. "You were sayin' somethin' about stayin' in?"
Pamela's hips arched instinctively, her hands gripping the sheets. "God… don't stop…"
Harley's fingers moved with practiced rhythm, sliding inside as her thumb circled Pamela's clit. Soft moans spilled from Pamela's lips—breathy and desperate.
"You're so wet for me, Red," Harley whispered against her ear, her breath hot on Pamela's skin. "You like that?"
"Yes… god, yes…" Pamela moaned, her body rocking against Harley's hand. "More… faster…"
Harley obliged, thrusting deeper, quickening her pace. Pamela's moans grew louder and more rhythmic, her body trembling as pleasure built toward its peak.
"That's it, Red," Harley murmured, watching her lover's face contort with ecstasy. "God, you're so beautiful like this."
Pamela was close—lost in sensation, her thighs tightening around Harley's hand—when the lights suddenly flickered.
Both women froze instantly. Their intimate moment shattered as combat instincts kicked in.
"What the hell?" Harley muttered, already reaching for the baseball bat beside the bed.
The television flickered to life on its own, displaying a woman's silhouette against a blue background. Two crimson eyes opened within the shadow, gleaming with an unsettling intensity.
"Dr. Pamela Isley. Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Good morning. My apologies for the interruption."
Vines crept from Pamela's fingertips as she sat up, pulling the sheets around herself. "Who the hell are you?"
"My identity isn't important right now. What matters is that I represent Wayne Tech's advanced research division, and I'm here to offer you both positions."
Harley let out a short, incredulous laugh, though her grip on the bat remained firm. "A job? Really? Lady, in case you haven't noticed, we're criminals. Not exactly prime hiring material."
"I'm fully aware of your recent activities." The silhouette gestured, and images materialized on screen—gold bars, security footage, transaction records. "Germany. Belgium. Now France. Quite the profitable European tour you've been conducting."
"How the hell—" Harley's eyes went wide. They'd been so careful. Extremely careful.
Pamela's vines coiled more aggressively around her arms. "If you're here to arrest us—"
"I'm not here to arrest anyone. I'm here with an opportunity." The woman's tone remained unnervingly calm. "Dr. Isley, your expertise in botany, genetic engineering, and ecological systems is precisely what we need for a revolutionary terraforming initiative. The position is Lead Specialist of Bio-Organic Systems."
Pamela blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "You're serious? You actually want to hire me? A wanted criminal?"
"Yes."
"And what about me?" Harley interjected. "I ain't exactly a plant person."
"Dr. Quinzel—"
"It's Harley Quinn now. That's the name I go by." Her expression hardened.
"Very well, Ms. Quinn. You were once a highly respected psychiatrist, and since separating from the Joker, you've shown considerable progress in reclaiming your former self. Your psychiatric expertise combined with your unconventional problem-solving approach would be invaluable to us. Wayne Tech is preparing to launch hyperspace exploration missions in the near future. We'll need someone capable of conducting comprehensive psychological evaluations—both pre-mission screenings and post-mission assessments for crew members after extended deep-space exposure." She paused. "Beyond that, your partnership with Dr. Isley is well-documented and clearly effective. We prefer to keep productive teams intact."
Pamela glanced at Harley, then back at the screen. "And if we refuse?"
The woman's voice turned cold. "Then this evidence goes to Interpol and the Justice League within the hour, and your vacation ends in a maximum-security cell. It would be unfortunate to waste such potential, but we have no use for uncooperative individuals." Her tone softened slightly. "However, if you accept, you return to Gotham under Wayne Tech's full protection with completely pardoned records. You'll work on projects that could genuinely change the world—with compensation that makes robbery utterly unnecessary."
"You—" Pamela gritted her teeth, vines tightening around her fists. "How is this any different from blackmail?"
"I prefer to call it leverage." The woman paused deliberately. "But let me ask you something serious—do you really want to spend the rest of your lives in the shadows, constantly running? Do you remember that brief period after the Thanagarian Invasion? Those relatively peaceful weeks in Gotham when you were heroes? When you had full pardons and people actually looked at you with respect?"
The words struck deeper than Pamela wanted to admit.
"I understand why you left," the woman continued, her tone softening. "After the invasion, you were celebrated as heroes who helped defend Earth. But people couldn't forget your pasts. No one would hire you—not even for positions far below your qualifications. You applied everywhere, trying desperately to start over legitimately, but every single door closed in your faces." She paused, letting the weight settle. "And with both the Higher Realm being and Batman watching Gotham, returning to crime there wasn't an option. So you left for Europe and went back to what you knew best—only this time, smarter and more careful. The robberies haven't been traced back to you yet, but that won't last forever. Eventually, someone will connect the dots."
"But if you accept this offer, everything changes. You'll return home with legitimate careers—positions that actually utilize your expertise. You'll finally get to do work you're genuinely passionate about, work that makes a real difference. And most importantly, you'll be able to live openly without constantly looking over your shoulders."
The silhouette vanished, replaced by detailed holographic projections—terraforming goals and ecological restoration plans unfolding in stunning detail before their eyes.
"As you can see, Dr. Isley, this project aims to heal Earth's damaged ecosystems first, then extend to barren planets throughout the sector. The public doesn't know it yet, but every project Wayne Tech is developing under the Higher Realm being's guidance is interconnected. You're both intelligent enough to see the bigger picture." She paused. "So, Dr. Isley—as someone who's dedicated her entire life to healing this world from humanity's damage—why not accept? You'd have complete freedom in your research, unlimited resources, and the chance to finally make a genuine, respectable life for yourself."
Harley whistled low. "Well, damn… when you put it like that…"
Pamela stayed silent, her eyes fixed on the silhouette. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm but laced with skepticism. "Wayne Tech doesn't hire criminals. And this terraforming technology you're showing us—it's way beyond anything that exists on Earth right now." She paused meaningfully. "So who's really behind this offer?"
She already had her suspicions.
"Perceptive, as expected." The woman's silhouette smiled faintly. "You'll meet your actual employer once you arrive in Gotham. For now, understand that he possesses knowledge and technology far beyond anything you've encountered, and he's offering you both the chance to create an honest life instead of one dependent on stealing."
Pamela looked at Harley, who shrugged. "Red, I'm with you either way. But honestly? This beats running from cops for the rest of our lives."
After a long pause, Pamela nodded slowly. "Fine. We'll come to Gotham. But I meet this employer face-to-face before I commit to anything."
"Acceptable. A private jet will arrive at Charles de Gaulle Airport in six hours. Be on it." The projection began fading. "Oh, and Dr. Isley? Leave your stolen items at the coordinates I'll be sending you shortly."
The screen went dark.
Pamela turned to Harley, her voice quiet with concern. "There's only one person at Wayne Tech with access to this kind of technology."
"Yeah, Red. It's gotta be him… Orach, the Higher Realm being." Harley set down the bat and moved closer, her playful demeanor fading into something more serious. "We never really had a choice in this, did we?"
"Fuck!" Pamela cursed, her fists clenching. "We finally escaped that cursed city, and now we're being dragged back to deal with someone who could probably kill us with a thought."
"True," Harley admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed. "But think about it—if he wanted us dead or locked up, why go through all this elaborate setup? He could've just sent Superman to haul us back in five minutes flat." She paused. "And Freeze joined his team, remember? From what we've heard through the grapevine, he's actually treated well. Even got his wife back. This might actually be legit."
Pamela dropped back onto the bed with a heavy sigh. "There goes our vacation."
Harley lay down beside her and smiled softly. "Yeah, but Red… if this offer really is from him, the work would be real. You'd finally get to do what you've always dreamed of—actually healing the planet instead of just fighting for it from the shadows."
Pamela turned her head, meeting Harley's gaze. "Maybe… but would you really be okay going back there? Back to that city that rejected us?"
Harley went quiet, her playful expression fading completely. "Not everyone rejected us, Red. Remember the kids? How they looked at us like we were real heroes?" She paused, her voice softening. "Look, I get it. People were scared of us. And yeah, after we helped save the damn world, not giving us a fair shot was complete bullshit." She squeezed Pamela's hand. "But this is different. This could be a real chance. If Orach himself hires us, who's gonna argue? We'd have protection, real work. We could finally stop running."
Pamela studied Harley's face, seeing the genuine hope flickering in her eyes. After finally breaking free from the Joker's twisted influence, Harley had been slowly returning to her old self—the brilliant, compassionate woman she'd been before Arkham corrupted her. Pamela vividly remembered the day they'd returned to Gotham after helping fight off the Thanagarian invasion. She'd watched pure joy light up Harley's face as crowds cheered them as heroes, treating them like they truly belonged.
But what followed had been crushing. Despite the cheers, doors had slammed shut in their faces. They'd even applied for positions far below their qualifications—just trying to build honest, normal lives. But the same people who'd called them heroes suddenly couldn't meet their eyes. The rejections came one after another, each one dimming Harley's hope a little more. Pamela would never forget watching that light slowly fade from her partner's eyes.
So while this offer was tempting, part of Pamela remained deeply wary. For both their sakes.
"Fine," Pamela said, sitting up with renewed determination. "We'll go. But I'm not committing to anything until we meet this Orach face-to-face." Her expression hardened. "I don't care how powerful he is—we demand clear terms and real guarantees. And if something feels wrong..." She locked eyes with Harley. "We run. Even if it means staying on the run forever. I won't let anyone control us again. Deal?"
Harley's grin returned, warmth flickering back into her eyes. "I love when you go all protective on me." She pulled Pamela into a tight embrace. "But let's give this a real shot, okay? You and me, together. Like always."
Pamela hugged her back, though her mind was already working through escape routes and contingencies. 'If this goes sideways, I'll get us out. I won't let that city crush her spirit again.'
She wasn't being naive. They'd both witnessed Orach's echo during the final hours of the Thanagarian invasion—that terrifying display of raw power that hadn't even been directed at them specifically. The memory still made her blood run cold. But despite that fear, she had to try. For Harley's sake, if nothing else.
Their phones buzzed in unison. A message appeared with coordinates for dropping off the stolen goods, flight information, and pickup instructions.
"Right then." Pamela stood, releasing Harley. "Let's pack everything. We drop off the items like they asked, then catch that flight."
"This is gonna work out, Red. I can feel it," Harley said brightly, already moving toward the closet to gather their belongings.
As they began packing, Pamela couldn't shake the tight knot of anxiety in her chest. But watching Harley's hopeful expression—that genuine smile she hadn't seen in months—she knew they had no choice. They had to try. For both their sakes.
Gotham - That Late Night - Batcave
Bruce sat in the Batcave, staring at his main computer screen as it ran analysis on a new alloy for deep-sea vessel construction. Data flickered across the displays, but his attention was elsewhere.
Last night's conversation with Orach wouldn't stop replaying in his mind.
He'd crossed a line. Used a cheap tactic, exploiting Orach's sense of responsibility when he knew better. Bruce had heard about the great war that forged Orach into who he was—though he didn't know the specifics, their interactions had given him enough insight to understand the being to some degree.
This wasn't Orach's world to protect—it was his. Yet Orach had done more for Earth than Bruce ever could have asked. Shown mercy when he didn't have to. Helped when he had no obligation. And on a personal level, Orach had fundamentally changed Bruce's life.
His gaze drifted toward the manor above, where Barbara waited. Barbara Minerva—the woman who'd brought warmth and light into his cold, dark world. Without Orach's intervention, she would've been lost to the Cheetah curse forever. Yes, Orach had saved her primarily for Diana, but the result was the same. Barbara was here, alive and whole. She'd transformed Wayne Manor from a hollow monument into a home. By night, she fought beside him as the Cheetah. By day, she stood with Bruce Wayne as his partner in every sense. Their public appearances together had already begun cementing her position as the future Mrs. Wayne in Gotham's high society.
Then there was Orach's other gift—the memories from the timeline Barry had accidentally created. Orach hadn't just fixed Barry's mistake. He'd shared those memories with Bruce, allowing him to see his parents one final time. To witness their last moments. To know that even in death, Thomas and Martha Wayne had seen who their son would become and were proud of him.
That knowledge had brought Bruce a peace he never thought possible. It had allowed him to open his heart to possibilities he'd always believed were beyond his reach. It was why he'd been able to accept Barbara into his life—to let himself feel something other than the mission.
So manipulating Orach last night? It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Bruce had always respected Orach's philosophy of non-interference—his refusal to control the natural progression of Earth and its universe. Frankly, he preferred it that way. A being of that much power should remain neutral.
But this situation was different.
A malevolent entity he couldn't understand, let alone strategize against, was out there. Trigon possessed an item Orach himself had warned about—something capable of creating chaos across the multiverse. And then there was Rachel.
The young girl Orach and Diana had adopted as their daughter. The girl Barbara treated as a niece. The girl Bruce had come to care for as much as he did Dick and Barbara Gordon.
Rachel was in danger. Everyone was in danger.
Despite his conflicted feelings, Bruce believed he'd made the right call.
First, Orach could prevent Trigon from wreaking havoc across the multiverse.
Second, Rachel wouldn't have to bear the weight of patricide—regardless of how much she claimed to want it, killing her biological father would scar her. He and Orach fundamentally disagreed on how to handle enemies, and this was the perfect example of why that mattered.
Third, if Orach eliminated Trigon, he could destroy the stolen artifact as well. That would permanently remove a catastrophic threat. And with Orach's involvement, no other cosmic being—not even whatever entity that fragment originally belonged to—would dare intervene to prevent its destruction.
Bruce leaned back in his chair, lost in thought, when two slender hands wrapped around his shoulders and a soft, sultry voice brushed against his ear.
"Why are you still brooding down here when you have me waiting for you upstairs?"
Barbara had been waiting in their bedroom, but sensing he had no intention of leaving the Batcave anytime soon, she'd decided to come to him instead. They'd had a long day—briefing the League, traveling to Atlantis with Arthur, meeting Queen Atlanna and the other Atlantean kings alongside Mera. It had been exhausting, and right now, she wanted her partner.
Bruce broke from his thoughts. Recognizing her familiar touch, he reached up and gently squeezed her hands, resting his head back against her arms. "Sorry. The analysis is taking longer than expected. It's not easy designing a vessel to meet these specifications."
"Oh really?" Barbara straightened, then swiveled his chair around to face her. She placed her long, bare leg between his thighs, dangerously close enough to make her point clear, her arms resting at her sides. "You know, Mr. Wayne, I'm not someone you want to lie to or keep things from. I thought I made myself clear the last time we had this talk. I'm your woman, your partner. So care to try again, darling?"
She smiled, her eyes glowing as they narrowed on him.
Bruce looked up to find Barbara wearing only one of his shirts. Even in the Batcave's dim lighting, she looked stunning. He sighed and moved his hands to hold the leg propped up on his chair. Before she could react, he leaned in and kissed her leg.
"Oi, that's... cheating," she breathed.
Bruce continued upward, landing gentle kisses along her inner thigh.
"Alright, mister." Barbara, despite loving his touch, knew she had to stop this—no matter how much she wanted it. "Stop." She leaned in and grasped his head, meeting his gaze. "Tell me what's bothering you. Whatever you're thinking about, it's not alloy synthesis. And our talks with the Atlantean delegation went better than we expected. We have their cooperation. So tell me what's wrong. We're partners. Spill."
Bruce sighed and turned to face her fully. "I may have pushed too hard last night."
"With Orach?" Barbara's expression softened with understanding. "Bruce, he's not going to abandon us just because you challenged him. Yes, you were direct—probably too direct—and he definitely saw through what you were trying to do. But he also understands why." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "He might be disappointed for a while, but it'll pass. Look, he may not call you his friend outright, but let's be honest—who could truly befriend someone like him? Most people would only try out of fear or self-interest, hoping to gain favor or avoid his wrath. Real friends disagree. They argue. They push each other's buttons. But they work through it. And that's what will happen here. This too shall pass."
"Maybe... you're right," Bruce muttered.
"Of course I am," Barbara said with a smug smile. "Anyway, I'm more worried about him having too much free time now that both Diana and Rachel are off-world. That scares me a bit, considering that even after all this time, his common sense and ours still differ." She gave a troubled smile. "Only Di and Rachel can rein him in... well, scratch that—only Di. Rachel would likely just join her father instead of stopping him." She let out a chuckle. Being Diana's best friend, she often heard about the father-daughter antics of Orach and Rachel.
"I don't think there's much to worry about. He's busy with his projects. I didn't get the chance to tell you this—he found Dr. Isley and Harley and recruited them today. Flew them in from Europe, and within an hour of their meeting, announced Dr. Isley as part of the Terraforming project, while Harley—Dr. Quinn—will help at the Antarctica facility with the members stationed there."
"What? Seriously? Those two?" Barbara blinked in surprise. "To have caught his attention... I almost pity Poison Ivy and especially Harley. But then again, considering how well Victor turned out, it might be the best thing that could've happened to them."
"I'm of the same opinion." Bruce leaned back in his chair. "What did you think about today's discussions?"
"Well," Barbara said, transforming midway into her demihuman form. With swift movements, she wrapped her legs around the sides of the chair and straddled Bruce, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his as she buried his face in her chest. "Honestly, I was expecting it to go worse, seeing as we were informing them that their missing king was responsible for a heist and up to no good. You'd think they would argue and refute more, but frankly, it seemed like everyone other than the Queen didn't care. No... rather, it was like they'd given up on Orm."
Bruce's hands settled on her thighs before sliding up to rest on her hips, drawing a satisfied purr from her. "I noticed it too. Queen Atlanna was the only one who showed any real distress—understandable, since she's both Arthur's and Orm's mother. But the others?" He paused. "From what we gathered, despite his hatred of surface-dwellers, Orm was actually a competent king. I expected at least some of them to defend him or push back against our accusations. Instead, nothing. It's like they'd already written him off."
"According to Mera," Barbara said, "Arthur defeated Orm in single combat to secure Atlantis's help during Darkseid's invasion. Those kinds of duels carry enormous weight in many ancient cultures, as they do in theirs—they're sacred. When Arthur won, it gave him significant standing with the Atlantean people." She paused thoughtfully. "Honestly, if Orm wasn't such an arse, I'd almost feel sorry for him the way Bobo does."
She pulled back slightly to meet Bruce's eyes. "But we can't underestimate him. To vanish overnight with loyal soldiers in tow—that doesn't happen on a whim. Like you said in the meeting, he must've been planning this for months, maybe longer. And for no one to notice? Either Atlantean security is seriously flawed, or Orm is far more capable than anyone gave him credit for."
"At least we accomplished what we went for," Barbara continued. "We have Atlantis's cooperation and one of their deep-diving vessels for you and Lucius to study. Hopefully you can modify it to handle the journey ahead." She hesitated, her expression clouding. "Still..."
"You felt it too?" Bruce finished. "Like they weren't telling us everything?"
Barbara nodded slowly. "Yes. They seemed open enough—even admitted they let Orm slip away undetected, which makes them look bad. But I can't shake the feeling they're hiding something. And based on Arthur's reactions during the meeting, he's not in on whatever it is either."
"That's probably intentional," Bruce said. "Arthur wouldn't be able to keep quiet about it."
"Exactly what I was thinking," Barbara agreed.
Both fell silent for a moment, the weight of their situation settling between them. They were wading into deep waters—literally and figuratively. Too many factions, too many conflicting agendas, all at a time when they should have been united against a common enemy.
"Anyway, it's going to take time, but I believe modifying the existing vessel is the better option." He swiveled the chair to his side, reaching out with his right hand to operate his main computer interface. As his fingers danced across the keys, the composition analysis of the vessel appeared on screen, along with stress and strain analysis and other data. Barbara turned her head to look at the screens as well.
"Lucius and I scanned the vessel and ran an in-depth analysis. We know its composition and capabilities now. It's leagues ahead of any submarines we have, so we both decided it's better to modify this vessel rather than create a new one from scratch. Right now, we're running simulations on synthesizing an alloy compound to reinforce the hull to withstand the pressure of those deep waters. It'll take some time, but we'll prioritize this to finish it quickly. Once we're done, Constantine and Zatanna can reinforce it magically to withstand the metaphysical pressure we'll face once we reach the threshold of the Unspoken Waters."
Barbara nodded. "Good. It's never been done before, so it's bound to take time. Do it right so we don't suffer any accidents down there. I'm still looking forward to our future together." She leaned in and kissed him passionately.
As they separated, a thin strand of saliva connected their lips, and they both breathed hard. Feeling the familiar sensation pressing against her from beneath, she smiled widely, her eyes shining with desire. "You know what? Let's go. Your computer's going to run the analysis anyway. We'll look at it later."
Bruce opened his mouth to protest but closed it with a sigh and a nod. Her smile widened as they got up and walked toward their bedroom, Barbara leading the way.
Once inside their room, Barbara pushed him against the door after locking it and began kissing him passionately. She knew what she wanted and was determined to get it. They began removing his suit as they moved toward the bed. Once there, she pushed Bruce onto the mattress and climbed on top of him. She pulled off the shirt she'd been wearing, exposing her sensual demihuman form, the moonlight streaming through the window illuminating her silhouette in silver light as they began their night of passion, letting the day's stress and emotions wash away.