"Pfft." Felicity couldn't hold it in and nearly snorted her soda out through her nose; she hurriedly ducked her head like a wallflower.
That little reaction alone showed just how fast Catwoman's nerves worked — she'd actually laughed out loud, but remembering she was on the same side as Barbara, she forced her mouth back into a neutral expression halfway through and from a distance looked like the Mona Lisa's lesser-known sister.
Robin wanted to step in for his sweetheart, but by the time Thea had walked in she'd already reverted to her usual look. Any sane person could tell she was a woman — and a pretty one at that — and Robin, having internalized Batman's rules, would never bother a woman, especially a beautiful one. So he obediently fell back into spectator mode.
"You bastard, you dared say that about me," Barbara snapped. She hadn't expected Thea to compliment her and then kick her into the gutter; she was furious. Thea only observed her with calm scrutiny. Barbara was proud, arrogant, and convinced the world revolved around her; she seldom cared what others thought. Thea couldn't help but see shades of her own former life in Barbara. If not for the circumstances that had reshaped her, Thea might have been the same.
Thea felt no anger — only a touch of pity.
"What's that look? Explain yourself. Do you have a better plan?" Barbara, though nearly at full rage, still kept a shred of reason; the lessons from Batman and Commissioner Gordon showed.
Thea was pleased by that restraint. If Barbara had thrown a tantrum, Thea would have turned and walked away — "Let Gotham burn, not my problem." But she didn't. Instead Thea asked the key question. "First, can the five of us really beat Bane? Catwoman said he beat Batman barehanded. Are any of you better than Batman?"
Barbara sniffed disdainfully. "So what? Use guns. Why fight him hand-to-hand?"
"Have you scouted the map?" Thea replied. "Bane's at City Hall. That area is wide-open; finding long-range firing positions will be hard. Pistols won't do much."
Barbara thought for a moment. "Then use missiles. The Wayne family has hidden launch platforms."
"Do you even know what 'reconnaissance' means?" Thea's patience frayed. She wondered whether Batman's constant babysitting had lowered their common sense.
Felicity projected the data onto the meeting-room screen. "This is what we see from City Hall's cameras," she said. "Those look like hostages. From my cross-checks, that bald man appears to be your mayor, and that black woman might be a prosecutor or judge."
"You planning to fire a missile and kill all of them?" Thea teased, half-joking.
Before Barbara could answer, Gordon — who'd been playing the invisible elder statesman — blurted, "No. Absolutely not. We have to rescue the hostages first."
If the heroes blew up government officials, Gotham would be on the front pages and Batman would never be able to show his face again. Gordon, with years of public service, wouldn't consent to such recklessness.
Barbara frowned but stayed defiant. "Then what do you suggest?"
"I suggest you listen to me," Thea said with a smile.
Nobody in the room answered. Catwoman, who owed Thea some favors and enjoyed breaking silences, prodded, "Go on — tell us your plan. If it makes sense, we'll follow."
There was no real sincerity in that; Catwoman wasn't claiming leadership. For Thea, Batman would soon return and these Gothamites were temporary allies at best.
"All right," Thea began. "I don't know everyone's precise capabilities, so I'll speak broadly. That guy on the screen — Bane — he's not our immediate priority. He can be dealt with later."
She pointed at the footage where Bane sat, almost idle. Right now he posed little immediate threat. He could go out and wreak havoc, but he was also tethered by his own situation: hostages, a show, and complicated politics. If left like that, he'd probably just sit and kill time.
Seeing the group — especially Barbara — resist, Thea pushed on. "What's urgent? It's not the man on the screen. I know you heroes aren't afraid to sacrifice yourselves, but is it worth sacrificing lives to save a few officials? Even if we kill Bane and free those officials, will that solve the city's core problem?"
She glanced at Commissioner Gordon. "Those officials are not the people most in need."
Gordon didn't disagree aloud — he knew the local players too well. He also knew these politicians were tainted in ways the average citizen didn't understand; he wouldn't, in good conscience, send precious lives to save them if there were better priorities for the city.
With that tacit backing, Thea had room to speak. "Instead of using precious time on those few, why not organize to save the citizens? My teammate has a plan."
Felicity — confident, punchy, and not afraid to use a slide deck — pulled up a district map of Gotham. "This is where we are: Gotham University," she said. "My plan: establish fortified control zones around Harris Plaza and Adams Street. Make those areas our secure footholds. We'll call on citizens to gather there, rally stranded police, and expand those zones as possible until the city-wide crisis can be addressed. That's the gist."
Felicity's pitch started bold and impassioned, but as she finished the room fell strangely quiet. Barbara and Robin were stunned. Catwoman's face tightened; she was beginning to understand.
"You intend to wage a war?" Catwoman blurted nervously. "Trenches, fortifications, cordoning off districts — are we back in wartime?"
"Selina," Thea — she already knew Catwoman's given name — said calmly, "isn't this already a war? Blackgate's busted open, Arkham's emptied — over fifteen hundred convicts plus hundreds from the asylum are loose. The city is crawling with criminals. Do you expect us to pick them off one by one? How many innocents will die in the meantime?"
Catwoman's instinct typified many heroes: shoulder responsibility personally, no matter the cost. That can look noble; it can also be short-sighted. Thea imagined that if she hadn't intervened, they'd have rushed Bane and then trudged through years of mop-up work across the city — a drawn-out campaign that would "water down" characters on the page but cost countless lives in reality.
Thea's plan wasn't glamorous, but it had sense. Securing pockets of the city, protecting civilians, bringing scattered police together — that's the kind of systemic solution Gotham needed, not a glory play in front of cameras.
She let the idea sit in the room. Slowly, faces shifted as the reality of the situation overcame the romance of immediate confrontation.