Batman had always held a complicated view of women. Deep down, he looked down on them a little—but years of discipline and upbringing also made him treat them with a certain respect, a strange mix of European chivalry and an ancient martial artist's code: never strike a woman.
His general approach was simple—ignore them.
Talia al Ghul had borne him a son and stabbed him—literally stabbed him with a blade—and he'd simply endured it.
Catwoman had betrayed him, yet he'd chosen forgiveness, pretending it never happened.
Even Harley Quinn, in her half-mad state, was treated with "moral lectures" instead of the kind of beatdowns he regularly gave the Joker.
So when someone with that sort of psychological cleanliness fought Lady Shiva, the outcome was all but certain.
There were too many places he couldn't hit. The chest? Definitely not. The waist? Far too sensitive. The face? One look at her cold, stunning beauty—no way.
Restrained on all fronts, already at a disadvantage in pure skill, Batman could only rely on his armor's durability to avoid total defeat.
He tried to glance toward Catwoman's side of the fight—nervously, since he didn't know that Felicity had already hacked all the nearby surveillance cameras to prevent the police from charging in with heavy weapons. Taking two solid punches from Shiva in the process, he turned his head—and nearly bit his tongue in shock.
Catwoman and Thea were standing side by side. The fierce battle from moments ago was gone as if it had never happened. The two of them stood casually, arms crossed, watching him fight. They looked one step away from pulling out popcorn and folding chairs to enjoy the show.
What he didn't know was that behind the scenes, Felicity was doing exactly that—snacking while silently cheering him on.
Their commentary carried clearly across the field.
"That punch from Shiva was too light. Did she skip dinner?"
"No, your angle's off. That punch was a feint—watch this kick. Nice! Beautiful form! That side kick was perfect!"
Bruce Wayne wanted to kneel. For whom am I suffering like this? Who asked me to do this? Why am I fighting for my life while they're holding a commentary session?!
He swore to himself then and there—never again would he fight a woman.
He wanted to call for a truce, but Shiva was enjoying herself far too much to listen.
Thea, meanwhile, watched intently. Every footstep, every shift in stance—it was mesmerizing. This was what true martial artistry looked like. She, by comparison, was just a practitioner—perhaps even less than that.
"Thea, pull out. Police will arrive in sixty seconds," Felicity's urgent voice came through the earpiece.
"The police are coming!" Thea shouted toward the combatants.
None of the people here were what one could call "lawful heroes." Thea still had to maintain her "innocent socialite" persona, Catwoman and Shiva were an infamous thief and assassin, and Batman himself was wanted in Gotham. Four heroes—each allergic to public exposure.
They stopped at once—well, Shiva stopped. Batman had been dying to leave anyway. She clicked her tongue, slightly disappointed.
"Tomorrow morning, we continue training," she told Thea, before vanishing into the forest like a ghost.
Batman gave Thea a brief nod. By now, he knew she hadn't intended to arrest them—if she had, the police would already be here.
Sliding an arm around Catwoman's waist, he fired a grappling hook skyward, and the two of them shot upward into the night.
As they rose, Thea caught a glimpse of the Batplane's outline against the clouds—long and narrow-bodied, with twin rotors beneath the wings. So that's how it achieves vertical lift, she thought, squinting for a better look. But before she could study it further, it shimmered and vanished completely, cloaked in its stealth mode.
Next time, I'm studying that thing properly.
Sirens were growing louder. Following Felicity's directions, Thea quickly slipped away through a side route.
When Thea returned to the venue, she expected chaos—a ruined event, angry officials, and the Queen Group's reputation in tatters.
Instead, she found Moira Queen on stage, perfectly composed, turning disaster into opportunity.
By the time Thea arrived, she only caught the end of her mother's speech:
"We must not be cowed by fear. We must not be defeated. Together, united, we will strike back at those who threaten our city. They fear us—because they fear our unity!
Commissioner Edwards and I have both submitted proposals to the city council. The Queen Group will donate five million dollars' worth of equipment to aid the Star City Police in their fight against crime!"
Applause erupted, and Moira continued, voice strong and resolute.
"We ask all of you here tonight to lend a hand—to preserve our home, to protect Star City's future!
Finally, the Queen Group and the city government will each contribute one million dollars in reward money for anyone who can provide information on tonight's attackers. Media friends, please spread the word—let's crush their arrogance before it spreads!"
The social elites below had no choice but to grit their teeth and join in.
Even the stingiest among them—those who'd rather donate fifty cents—ended up scribbling out checks for tens of thousands just to save face. After all, no one wanted to look cheap in front of cameras.
Watching her mother handle the crisis so gracefully, Thea couldn't help but feel genuine admiration. Moira had turned a disaster into a triumph—transforming the Queen Group into a symbol of resilience and civic pride.
As for the donations, rewards, and equipment? Whether they truly materialized or not was anyone's guess. Thea didn't particularly care. Her ambitions were far beyond Star City.
The world could burn or bloom—it mattered little. She'd help when she could, but she wouldn't lose sleep over it. No law or system could completely uproot evil.
When the fundraising ended, the police commissioner cheerfully declared that their "annual revenue goals" had been achieved. Of course, he phrased it more solemnly—vowing passionately to hunt down the criminals "no matter how far they run." In truth, he was transferring departments at the end of the year. He wouldn't even be there next time.
Thea sighed at the theatrics, gave Moira a distant nod of approval, and quietly slipped out with Felicity.
As they exited the hall, the sound of frenzied reporters echoed behind them.
"Mrs. Queen! Could you tell us how deep this partnership with the police really goes?"
"Commissioner Edwards, what's your crime reduction target for next year?"
"Detective Lance! Do you have any comment on your younger daughter and your older daughter's boyfriend disappearing together tonight?"
Thea winced.
Then came the sharp sound of shouting—someone yelling "Stop!" and another voice crying out in protest. She sighed again.
These reporters must have a death wish.
Once outside, she turned to Felicity.
"Did you record everything tonight?"
"Of course I did! But, wow… Batman is so hot. Thea, do you know who he really is?"
"First time meeting him," Thea replied, smirking. "All I know is—he's a guy."