The shoulder guards, chest plate, and helmet retracted fully into Cassie's body. What remained were the vambraces and greaves. The rest of the armor condensed into a formfitting crimson bodysuit worn against her skin.
"Your bond with the Silent Armor isn't strong enough yet," Thea told her as she prepared to leave. "Once there's no line between where you end and it begins — that's when you'll be able to retract it completely."
She left Diana to handle Cassie's training. The goal was at least enough self-defense capability to keep herself alive. An hour later, Thea arrived in Gotham City with her secretary Mercy, a detail of bodyguards, and a team of financial attorneys. The departure of several hidden legacy families had returned a substantial block of assets to her, and she needed to formally confirm her stake in Wayne Enterprises.
Lucius Fox, from where he sat as president, was deeply unhappy about her acquiring any further influence in the company. But the current reality gave him no room to object.
Her shareholding hadn't crossed a majority, but it was the largest block held by any single party — by a wide margin. Money was just a number to her at this point. She wasn't here for the money. She was here for two reasons: first, to lock down her share position; second, to negotiate the release of a portion of Wayne Enterprises' patent portfolio to emerging manufacturers. It would hurt the company's profit margin, and she knew it — but she was equally certain Bruce would never say no.
Both parties took their seats in the conference room. That was when she saw who was across the table.
Tim Drake.
In his public identity, Tim Drake attended the meeting as Bruce Wayne's adopted son. The Red Robin suit was in storage. The domino mask was off. A tailored suit, a straight tie — and standing in that boardroom, Tim actually pulled it off. He looked the part.
Handsome, polished, measured, composed. A wealth of knowledge and quiet intelligence that made him seem like a young executive with real vision. Impressive, for his age.
The whole room knew who Thea was. The Batman family ran two lives each, though — even after fighting monsters together on the Moon not long ago, they were expected to meet like strangers here. Such were the rules.
A few pleasantries, and they got down to business.
Tim's response to Thea's proposal — opening a section of Wayne's patent portfolio for public manufacturing licensing — was immediate and unqualified. It would cost the company, and he knew that. But he was equally certain Batman would agree.
Lucius didn't offer much opinion. You're both swimming in money you don't know what to do with. You want to give some away. Not my problem — I just work here.
"Thank you, Wayne Enterprises and Mr. Drake, for your support. We'll arrange the formal—" Thea paused mid-sentence.
Even for someone with Tim Drake's reputation for composure, having Thea reach across the table to shake his hand had him wound a little tight.
But her eyes had gone elsewhere entirely.
Something hit her — a tremor with no physical source, a premonition with no logic behind it. It arrived like a hurricane slamming through her chest with no warning and no precedent. Across the ground, through the trees, a sound like countless voices weeping — and yet every living person around her was going about their day without a flicker of awareness.
What was that?
Thea's alarm was sharp. She glanced around — Tim, Lucius, Mercy, the rest of the room. None of them had felt a thing. They were staring at her with the expression people get when someone stops mid-sentence for no apparent reason.
Something happened. She was certain of it. That signal had come directly from the cosmic will — the consciousness that ran through this universe. If the awareness behind Earth-2 was like a child, this universe's will was a Titan carved from mountain stone.
She hadn't decoded much. But her first instinct — someone had altered the timeline. The Flashpoint? She reached out and felt for it immediately. Her family, untouched. The world's trajectory, running exactly the same as it had a fraction of a second ago. Smooth and uninterrupted. Barry Allen was having dinner with Iris in Central City, talking over wedding plans. Definitely not him.
Then what?
A sharp ring cut through her thoughts. Tim shot her an apologetic look and took the call. Two sentences in, and his composure cracked.
"...Bruce is missing? What do you mean, missing?"
Thea caught the voice on the other end. Alfred. She'd recognize his voice anywhere.
Alfred Pennyworth did not call without cause. The man was unshakeable under normal circumstances. Whatever had happened, it was serious.
"I need to go see what's happened to Mr. Wayne." She put deliberate weight on the name, punctuating each syllable.
In front of the assembled commercial leadership of both Queen Consolidated and Wayne Enterprises, she activated her teleportation and stepped through. The Batcave's exterior was solid lead — she couldn't scan or observe from a distance. She'd have to see for herself.
She reappeared inside the manor.
"Alfred — what's going on?" She found the old butler quickly in the side parlor, his hands moving between his phone and his pockets, unable to settle.
"Thank heaven, Miss Thea — you couldn't have come at a better time. Come — quickly — come with me." He was almost gasping, and after half a minute he still hadn't finished a complete sentence.
Thea channeled a small pulse of magic into him. Just enough to stabilize.
He breathed. "...Master Bruce is gone."
Her expression went flat. Who is gone? How is someone just gone?
"I stepped out to get his coffee. Two minutes, at most. He simply — vanished. No signs of a fight. No indication of metahuman activity — not that I observed. Come look." He was already pulling her toward the hidden passage.
According to Alfred, Batman had been researching something. He'd stepped away for two minutes and come back to an empty chair.
"Wait — was Bruce sitting in this chair before he disappeared?"
She'd felt it the moment she set foot in the Cave. Familiar energy. She crossed the room in three long strides, stepping into the inner lab, and pointed.
Alfred nodded urgently.
For a moment, Thea's expression might have been genuinely funny to an outside observer. She stood completely still.
Even dissipated as it was, even barely a trace, she could read the residue clearly. Omega Effect energy. And layered beneath it — a faint remnant of her own Eye of Obliteration. Her beam had been here. She was certain.
She scanned the scene with a look that had gone somewhere distant.
You're telling me today is not April Fool's Day. You're not all playing an elaborate prank. Batman had been researching the Omega Effect and her Eye of Obliteration — and had somehow managed to erase himself from existence in the process? Bruce Wayne had really outdone himself this time.
A specific image formed in her mind: a red light and a green light, coiling around each other, then detonating simultaneously against one very unfortunate man in a cape.
The sea-witch Siren had warned her once — someone had breached the Soul Sea. She'd dismissed it. The culprit, it now appeared, was Batman. This man never knew how to sit still.
She'd wrestled with Darkseid and still found the Omega Effect opaque enough to put on a shelf. Bruce Wayne, on the other hand, had apparently decided he'd reverse-engineer it with a wrench and a screwdriver. Dark Knight tech or not, there are limits.
She looked at the empty chair. She looked at Alfred's face — that expression of quiet, desperate hope that only old men can produce.
She had something to say. She just wasn't sure it was her place to say it yet.