Dean Hayes stood in the hallway, red-faced and trembling, one hand pressed to his cheek where Pamela had slapped him. His comb-over had fallen loose across his forehead, and his finger wagged shakily in her direction, though his whole arm quivered like a branch in the wind.
"You dare to hit the dean of Gotham University?!" he sputtered, voice cracking under the strain.
Pamela shifted her weight lazily to one hip, the duffel bag strap biting into her shoulder as if it were a badge of honor. Her green eyes glowed with cold fire. "These days? There's not much I don't dare to do."
"You—" Hayes stammered, lips curling, "you're expelled! Gone! I'll have security drag you off campus immediately!" His voice wavered at the end, betraying the fear under the bluster. But his eyes betrayed something worse—dropping down her frame, lingering where they shouldn't, full of hunger instead of authority.
Pamela's expression froze, then hardened into raw disgust. Without a word, she raised her leg and drove her boot straight into his crotch.
The impact thudded through the hallway. Hayes let out a strangled animal cry, knees buckling inward as his face twisted grotesquely. He dropped forward onto his knees, clutching himself with both hands, before collapsing fully onto his palms. Spittle dribbled from his open mouth as he gasped for air.
Pamela loomed above him, her voice sharp as glass. "No need. I quit this damn university." She leaned forward, voice rising into a snarl. "I'm done with pigs like you running this place. You let professors abduct students, experiment on them, and then you blame me?"
Hayes wheezed, trying to form words, but only a pained croak came out.
Pamela's lip curled. "Don't think for a second I won't sue this school into the ground. I know people. Your days of covering up your filth are over, Leonard."
Hayes raised bloodshot eyes at her, veins standing out in his forehead. "You little bitch," he rasped, voice shredded. "You're gonna pay for this…" He tried to rise, but his legs buckled again, sending him groaning back to the floor.
Cindy rushed to his side, panic written across her face. "Dean Hayes! Dean! Are you okay? Please, say something!" She dropped to her knees and shook his shoulder, but he only groaned.
Barbara leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, eyes cool. She gave Pamela a thumbs-up. "Nice shot."
Pamela brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her face expressionless. "What? He was a pig."
Her gaze slid to Cindy. "And you, Cindy… don't think I haven't noticed how you stalk the hallway. Always peeking into my room. Always whispering." Pamela tilted her head, her voice dripping venom. "I know what you've been doing at night. Don't think I haven't seen the parade of guys sneaking into your room."
Cindy's eyes went wide, her lips stammering. "I—I don't know what you're talking about."
Pamela's stare didn't waver. "Uh-huh." She turned her head toward Barbara. "What do you think we should do with this little rat?"
Barbara's lips curled, her eyes flashing with delight. "Oh, I've got just the thing." She stepped forward, raising one finger. Cindy froze in terror, not even enough time to scream before Barbara pressed her finger lightly against her shoulder.
The spark was immediate.
Cindy's body jolted violently as if a live wire had been shoved into her chest. She convulsed, arms flailing before her body went limp and collapsed in a twitching heap across Dean Hayes. Smoke curled faintly from the fabric of her blouse.
Barbara straightened, brushing invisible dust from her hand. Her gaze flicked to the ceiling-mounted camera. A faint hum pulsed through her nanites. Sparks burst from the device, the red recording light going dead. "No recordings. Nothing to pin on us. All evidence erased."
Pamela glanced down at the heap of bodies, her lip curling in disdain. "Doesn't matter. I've already been expelled. At this point…" She turned her head toward Barbara. "Where are you planning to go next?"
Barbara's expression softened, her voice carrying quiet conviction. "Wherever you're going. But I like your plan better—burn the school, start a business, take over the world."
Pamela's eyes gleamed. "Once the lawsuit hits and they're forced to pay out, I'll use that money to start something legit. A corporation. Bigger than Wayne Industries."
Barbara stepped closer, lowering her voice. "And I'll design the tech to sell. Gadgets, maybe even weapons—for select buyers."
Pamela's lips curved into something sharper than a smile. "And beneath it all—our true empire. Midnight Mayhem."
Barbara's eyes glinted. "A criminal syndicate disguised as a moral company. I love it."
Pamela's voice dripped satisfaction. "We'll strike terror into the good guys and the bad guys alike. Let the world bleed between the cracks."
Barbara's cheeks flushed faintly as she looked at her. "That's why I like you. You always see the long game."
Pamela slid her arm around Barbara's shoulder, pulling her close. "And you? You're the genius who'll make it real."
Barbara leaned into her, her head brushing Pamela's shoulder. "This is the start of something amazing."
Pamela's voice was certain, unshakable. "Damn right it is."
Together, they walked out of the dorm, hand in hand. Pamela's duffel bounced lightly against her hip as they pushed through the front doors. Their gray junker car waited outside, ugly and dented, the perfect disguise. The engine growled as Barbara turned the key, the sound of ambition hiding under rust.
Inside, back in the hallway, Dean Hayes groaned, clutching himself as he tried to stand. Cindy lay unconscious across him, smoke still rising faintly from her blouse. His face was blotched red, his jaw trembling as he forced himself upright.
"That bitch," he wheezed, voice shaking. "She thinks she has connections? She's not the only one. I'll find someone. Someone powerful. She'll regret crossing me."
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