The prisoner hadn't even regained consciousness when Gordon and his daughter arrived — with Felicity trailing behind them, moving as slowly as snails. It wasn't that they didn't want to hurry; they simply didn't have the strength left.
"Hey, you alive?" Thea leaned down and gave Felicity's cheek a light pat.
"I'm fine," Felicity mumbled, touching her face with both hands. "But my face hurts… Why would those thugs hit me there?" Her wide eyes were full of innocent confusion.
Thea glanced sidelong at her, trying to keep a straight face. The swelling was obvious — faintly red and round. The truth, of course, was that she'd rubbed the poor girl's face raw while trying to wake her up earlier. But that… was not something she planned to confess.
Rapid head shake. "No idea. When I found you, you already looked like that… Anyway, here."
She pulled a small tin of salve from her pack — an old concoction given to her by Lady Shiva — and tossed it over. "It's good for bruises. Should help."
Turning, she caught sight of Barbara's profile — and the massive lump on the woman's forehead. From a distance, it looked like a golden horn sprouting from her skull.
Right. That one was her fault too.
Feeling a stab of guilt, she lobbed another tin across the room.
"Yours. Swelling'll go down fast."
Barbara, who had been quietly listening, caught the tin in surprise.
She wasn't fond of Thea, but etiquette was etiquette — the woman had saved her life.
"Thank you," she said politely, then hesitated. "And… thank you for rescuing us. Did you… go back to the campus again? Did you see Robin?"
Thea sighed. "No. Security's too tight. I couldn't get close. Sorry."
The apology sounded sincere enough, though even she knew it was half formality. No one blamed her — not Gordon, not Barbara. She'd gone out there three separate times in one night, without backup or protective gear.
Barbara, who had spent that same night tied to a chair, wasn't exactly in a position to judge.
When Barbara fell silent, Thea turned away and addressed Felicity instead.
"Can your drones still fly? I haven't seen Catwoman — find her."
"Uh—" Felicity hesitated, then forced a nervous laugh. "Catwoman? She's… outside the city. I'll, uh, call her right now!"
Her brain was still foggy, and the lie came out clumsy. She fumbled for her phone.
Thea frowned. When did those two get so close? The idea of Gotham's prowling thief bonding with Star City's most introverted tech girl made no sense. Still, now wasn't the time.
"Get her back here," she said shortly. "We need everyone. Now."
Her patience was gone. She'd had enough of reacting — it was time to strike back.
Whatever moral hierarchy existed, whoever normally gave the orders, none of it mattered anymore. Someone had turned Gotham into a madhouse under her watch, and she intended to end it — personally.
"Commissioner Gordon," she said, her tone all business. "How many officers can you still mobilize? I need them ready to move within thirty minutes."
"You're going back out there?" Gordon's eyes widened. "That's suicide! You've been out three times tonight!"
Thea didn't blink.
The old man sighed, rubbing his temples. But her determination was infectious, and as a Gotham native, he couldn't bear the thought of letting an outsider fight harder for his city than he did.
"…Maybe twenty men," he said finally.
"Good enough. Coordinate with Felicity from here. Have them move on the campus perimeter when I give the signal."
She turned to the redhead next. "Barbara — twenty minutes to rest, then suit up. We're taking them back."
"Felicity, once you reach Catwoman, tell her to head straight here."
She spun toward Lyla, hesitated for a beat, then gave a half-grin. "And you, Agent Michaels—"
"I'm coming with you," Lyla interrupted crisply. "Five agents, full gear. I can also call in an attack chopper for support — but with that many civilians, it'll be deterrence only. No missiles."
"Perfect."
No one objected. They were all used to following Batman's lead — following someone else's orders came naturally. And Thea had more than earned it; she'd saved them, risked her life multiple times, and proved she could lead.
Barbara just wanted Robin back. At this point, she'd have followed anyone.
Still unsteady, she pushed herself upright and went to change. Her costume was long gone, so she settled for a whip and a mask — improvised, but it would have to do.
Thea and Gordon bent over a hastily drawn map, discussing entry points and field of fire. Lyla joined them midway, adjusting logistics.
Out of ten functioning respirators, only five were the high-grade anti-toxin models. The rest were older types — untested, unreliable.
That meant only the "supers" could risk the front lines. The police would have to hold the perimeter and provide covering fire.
It wasn't ideal — it never was. This world always came back to the same truth: when things got bad, it was the heroes who had to do the heavy lifting.
Thea tried not to dwell on it. Fine. I'll play the tank.
As if to confirm her resolve, a breathless agent hurried in.
"Ma'am — we've got it. The prisoner talked. The attack was orchestrated by Scarecrow. It was his fear toxin that hit the campus."
Thea froze.
Then her lips peeled back in something between a smile and a snarl.
Scarecrow.
That second-rate, straw-stuffed hack had been the one to gas her, knock out an entire campus, and make a fool of her team?
Fury burned cold in her chest. I went in fully armed, ready to fight monsters — and got blindsided by a back-alley chemist in a burlap sack.
Her eyes flashed, and the agent instinctively stepped back from the sheer intensity in her stare.
"He also said," the man continued, voice trembling slightly, "they plan to move all the hostages by dawn. He doesn't know where."
"Then we move now."
She turned sharply. "Barbara — how's your strength?"
The redhead straightened, swaying slightly but defiant. "Enough to fight."
"Good. Gear up. We're going to finish this."
She didn't say the rest out loud, but every word pulsed behind her eyes:
Scarecrow dies tonight.