Steadying her breath, Thea drew the bowstring to its limit and took aim at Penguin's most distinctive feature—his sharp, hooked nose.
The arrow streaked through the air like a meteor, fast and true.
If nothing unexpected happened, that ugly face would soon have a neat hole right through it.
By tomorrow, his lieutenants would be attending their boss's funeral, and by the day after, they'd be voting on a new leader.
But when the arrow was barely twenty centimeters from Penguin's face, a figure flashed in from the side.
A gloved hand, clad in deep emerald green, snatched the arrow out of the air.
What?
Having her arrow intercepted wasn't that surprising—her archery wasn't perfect, and even that lunatic "Angel of Death" had managed to deflect her shots.
But catching a speeding arrow with one hand? That was another level entirely.
Sure, someone with super strength or extraordinary reflexes could manage it—but the woman standing before her clearly wasn't that type.
No, this woman was familiar with Thea's shooting style. She had used the same technique—the one passed down by the League of Assassins—to catch it.
That specific trick, Thea herself had learned but never used. She'd never expected the first person to pull it on her would be another woman.
"Talia…" Thea muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing.
"Who are you?" asked the woman in the emerald combat suit, a recurved bow slung in one hand and a sword at her hip—Talia al Ghul.
She studied Thea with sharp, cautious eyes.
The woman's stance, her rhythm—her movements all screamed League training. Could she be one of them?
How could Thea even begin to answer that?
The whole story was way too complicated, and this was not the time to start a family drama exposition in front of half of Gotham's underworld.
She took in Talia's exotic beauty—those amber eyes framed by dark lashes, black hair cascading around olive-toned skin that hinted at both Arab and East Asian heritage.
All allure and danger, intertwined.
"Beat me first, then we'll talk," Thea said flatly.
She wanted to see for herself—how did she, Thea Queen, compare to Ra's al Ghul's hand-trained daughter, the woman who would one day guide Green Arrow himself?
With a swift motion, she nocked an arrow and fired.
"Your archery still needs work."
Talia brushed the arrow aside with the body of her bow, her lips curling in disdain.
Her hands, however, didn't pause—she drew and loosed a counter-arrow in a single smooth motion, matching Thea's rhythm perfectly.
But under Thea's heightened senses, that arrow shone like a flare in the sky.
She sidestepped lightly to the left and fired back in return.
Then came a display fit for the stage—both women shooting in perfect synchronization, arrows clashing midair with sharp metallic snaps.
Their quivers emptied quickly—twenty shots each—and neither could gain the upper hand.
Talia's technique was exquisite, but Thea's perception and timing more than compensated for the difference in pure skill.
After the flurry, both women's arms trembled from the strain. Neither of them had superhuman stamina.
They paused in mutual respect—steadying their breathing, eyes locked, each ready for the next exchange.
By this point, Talia was absolutely certain.
Her opponent was using Ra's al Ghul's own archery style.
After all, her father wasn't exactly known for innovation—he taught his students exactly as he'd been taught himself.
The same techniques, the same footwork—it was unmistakable.
Studying Thea's build, her movements, her strength and agility, Talia could tell she was a woman—and a young one at that.
A thought struck her: could this be… her sister, Nyssa al Ghul?
She hadn't seen Nyssa in years. The two sisters were never close—Talia had left the League long ago to raise her son.
But the age, the style, even the aura—they fit.
Had her sister come to Gotham to challenge her?
And if so… was their father, the Demon's Head himself, lurking nearby?
Uneasy, Talia discreetly signaled her men to stay hidden and not reveal themselves.
Fortunately for her, Thea couldn't read minds.
If she could, she would've screamed: Are you blind? I'm way hotter than your sister!
Thea, meanwhile, was facing her own dilemma.
This was Bruce Wayne's baby mama. Hitting her felt wrong.
But not hitting her also felt wrong.
And worse—Talia was supposed to be the one who would later mentor her brother, Oliver Queen, into becoming Green Arrow.
Without her, there would be no Green Arrow.
Thea wasn't about to screw up that cosmic chain of mentorship.
And if Talia was here… then Bane couldn't be far behind.
That walking tank of muscle and venom punches with literal tons of force.
Even Iron Man would fold after one good hit.
Talia feared her father might appear to "clean house."
Thea feared Bane might pop out of a bush and smash her like a soda can.
So, in perfect silent agreement, both women slowly backed away—each retreating to her own side.
"Commissioner Gordon, what's your situation?" Thea asked through the comms.
"Still holding," the old man replied, gunfire crackling behind his voice. "But they're tough bastards. Honestly, I think they're stalling us for something."
He wasn't wrong.
Thea felt it too—a bad premonition.
The Court of Owls, Talia, maybe even Bane… on the high-end power scale, they were badly outmatched.
Her mind made up, she snapped an order:
"Commissioner, fall back. Start clearing an exit route. We're pulling out of Arkham—slowly."
"Agent Lyla, have your snipers cover Robin's retreat."
"Catwoman, Barbara—ready your smoke grenades. And Selina, tell Firefly she's on rearguard duty."
Firefly still wasn't linked into their comm channel—partly because Thea didn't trust her, and partly because the pyromaniac couldn't stand working with the Bat-family anyway.
With Gordon's commands echoing through the police radio, the formation began tightening—methodical, controlled withdrawal.
Two sniper shots rang out—"Bang! Bang!"—
The bullets streaked toward the Talons who'd been cornering Robin.
They sensed the danger instantly, twisting aside just in time to dodge, giving Robin the opening he needed to sprint back toward the main group.