Her first arrow had been aimed at Croc's leg; the second one didn't even need aiming. Thea loosed it straight toward the upper part of the ice block—wincing as she did. Each arrow was money, after all. And so far, she hadn't found a single rich sucker willing to reimburse her expenses. Bruce Wayne, you'd better come back soon, she thought grimly. I can't keep affording this out of pocket.
The Bat-family trio had no idea about her inner monologue. They only saw a flash of white light, and then the vague human outline that had been Killer Croc vanished completely.
In his place now stood a towering, uneven mass of ice—three meters tall, five meters wide.
If you looked closely, you could still see a faint shadow inside, the suggestion of a figure sealed within.
Everyone inhaled sharply at once. "Hss—" Maybe it was the cold, or maybe it was awe. The air around the block shimmered with frost; two shots of that compound had drained every trace of heat from the area.
In theory, Thea's chemical mix could hit temperatures as low as –120°C. Factoring in energy loss to air and distance, the effect here was probably around –50°C. Still cold enough to freeze a crocodile solid.
"Well, that's that," Thea said breezily, dusting her hands. "Mission accomplished. I'll be heading off now…"
She turned on her heel, eager to make her exit. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to ask her for a ride back.
Flying Catwoman home? Fine—they'd done that a few times already. But Robin and Barbara? No thanks. After half a day wrestling with Croc, they smelled like a mixture of swamp gas and rotten meat. She could maybe tolerate Barbara for the sake of sisterly solidarity—but Robin? Absolutely not. The mere thought made her gag.
So, better not give them the chance to open their mouths at all. Classic strategy: don't refuse—just run first.
"Hold up, come down here. We need a quick team meeting."
Catwoman's voice pulled her back down before she could escape.
Resigned, Thea guided the hoverboard to the ground and joined them on a patch of clear space—well away from the ice block.
"Shouldn't we move even farther?" Robin asked, glancing nervously at the frozen Croc. "What if he hears us?"
Barbara rolled her eyes. "He's unconscious, genius. You think he's eavesdropping through a meter of ice? Relax."
Still, she made a mental note: Robin needs serious remedial education. The man was brave and loyal, but his scientific literacy hovered somewhere between middle school and barely functional. Maybe she could enroll him in an adult-learning program—he'd thank her someday.
Thea nodded in agreement. "Barbara's right. He's totally numb right now. With that much ice, there's no way he's hearing a thing."
Robin chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Surrounded by three women, he felt the weight of underperforming painfully. The best he could manage was an embarrassed grin.
For a while, no one spoke. The group stared at the massive frozen block in silence. Clearly, no one had a plan. Then, slowly, three pairs of eyes turned toward Thea.
It was her arrow, her ice, her mess. Surely she had a plan to move it.
Except she didn't.
When she and Felicity had designed the freeze-arrow prototype, they'd discussed yield strength, temperature retention, containment radius—never disposal logistics.
We didn't plan for success, she thought miserably.
"Felicity, got any ideas?" she asked through the comm.
"…."
Only silence.
Finally, Catwoman broke it. "Let's… go find Commissioner Gordon and talk it over with him."
A blatant pass of the responsibility—but no one objected.
"Yeah," Barbara nodded quickly. "He's dealt with worse."
"Exactly," Robin agreed. "Home of the experienced hero, right?"
They all found comfort in that thought: when in doubt, call the older guy.
"Hang tight, I'll reach him." Felicity's voice came back faintly, then cut to busy static.
The four of them stood around awkwardly. Waiting.
Doing nothing got old fast.
"Miss Thea," Barbara said suddenly, her tone brightening, "care for a spar?"
The suggestion drew mixed reactions.
Catwoman's grin said this I've got to see.
Robin looked uneasy—he knew his girlfriend's limits too well.
Thea just blinked, caught off guard. She'd been seconds away from lying down in the grass for a nap. Her whole schedule had flipped since coming to Gotham—she was used to fighting by night, sleeping by day. Her body clock hated her.
Still, Barbara's smug little smile was grating. If she wanted to play, fine.
Thea shrugged, tossed aside her bow and quiver. "Alright then," she said. "Come on."
Barbara visibly relaxed the moment the high-tech weapon left Thea's hands.
Robin did too. The freeze arrows had been terrifying enough in battle; no one wanted to see what they could do in a friendly spar.
Catwoman, who had seen them in action, just leaned back, arms folded, enjoying the show. You poor kids don't even know what you're in for, her smirk said.
To her credit, Barbara was sporting enough to unclip her own weapon—her whip, disguised as a belt.
But when Thea saw her unbuckling, she nearly choked.
"Whoa—what are you doing!?"
Barbara just smiled, pulling the coiled whip free from her waist.
Thea exhaled sharply. Oh. Right. It's that thing.
Still, her mind couldn't help running away with the image. Seriously, who keeps their weapon there? What if her opponent were some lonely fifty-year-old bachelor? The guy'd hit berserk mode the moment she unbuckled that!
But the moment of alarm had burned away her fatigue. Fine—if Barbara wanted a real match, she'd get one.
The two women stepped into the open space, empty-handed now, circling slowly.
Barbara gestured politely. "You can go first."
Thea chuckled. "You sure? Alright—don't regret it."
"Not a chance."
Thea shifted her stance, spine straight, energy centered. "Heads up," she warned, and struck first—an upward flick of the hand, a straight-line Wing Chun strike aimed squarely at Barbara's face.
Barbara reacted instantly, stepping in and reaching for Thea's wrist, flowing into a judo grip, hoping to seize and throw.
The real fight had begun.