Her smile was contagious.
Barbara and her boyfriend held each other tightly, unwilling to let go, while Lyla stood quietly, gazing at the sunrise with a faint, dreamy smile curving her lips—clearly lost in her own thoughts.
"Old friend, after all these years… was I wrong?" Bruce asked softly, standing beside Gordon. His voice was calm, yet layered with emotions—happiness, relief, doubt, loss. It was hard to tell which dominated.
The question caught the old commissioner off guard. Quick thinking was never his strong suit, but at his age, he understood what Bruce was really asking about.
"Maybe it's just a difference in perspective," Gordon replied vaguely. "Men and women… we see things differently."
He was worried about shaking Bruce's faith and scraped together that half-baked answer, then added, "She's young—idealistic, ambitious. That's not a bad thing."
"Youth really is a gift," Bruce murmured.
He looked toward Thea, who stood tall and radiant in the sunlight. With all the women he'd met in his life, he couldn't deny that the image before him moved him deeply—not with affection, but with pure admiration.
Maybe Gordon was right. Maybe it was just a difference in perspective between men and women. Bruce could only accept that, forcing his wavering convictions back into place.
If he allowed himself to believe that everything he'd done for years had been meaningless… he might just lose himself to the darkness.
Turning to Gordon, he sighed, "I owe you an apology. You entrusted your daughter to me, but I've always focused on Robin. From now on, I'll pay more attention to Barbara."
He also wanted to see—firsthand—if men and women truly handled problems so differently.
Gordon wasn't sure whether to thank him or worry. In his heart, he'd only ever wished for his daughter to live an ordinary, peaceful life. He'd never been happy seeing her take up the mantle of a vigilante.
Barbara's on-again-off-again training had been sloppy at best—and that was partly his fault for letting it slide.
But now that Bruce Wayne had officially declared he would hold her to a high standard, there wasn't much Gordon could say. He could only give a bitter smile and nod.
After all, when even billionaire playboys were risking their lives on the front line, his daughter couldn't be treated like something fragile.
"Fine," he thought. "Let her train. Maybe it'll do her good."
Unaware that her father and mentor were planning to train her within an inch of her life, Barbara was, at that very moment, still kissing her boyfriend under the morning sun.
Thea, meanwhile, ignored the lovestruck pair and walked over to the two older men.
"Uncle Bruce," she began—after debating the title for days. Calling him "Mr. Wayne" sounded distant, while just "Bruce" felt too familiar. So "Uncle Bruce" it was—sweet enough to soften her tone, yet respectful.
The address made Batman twitch slightly. "Uncle"? He was barely past thirty! But then again, after days of fighting without rest, with stubble darkening his jaw, he probably did look older than he wanted to admit.
Facing a seventeen-year-old girl, he finally sighed inwardly. "Fine. Uncle it is."
After a moment's thought, he replied, "It's ready to use—but the effective range is limited. The target must be within five hundred meters. Are you planning to strike today?"
"Yes," Thea said firmly. "Sooner rather than later. While Freeze hasn't fully recovered, this is our best chance."
They'd already discussed Arkham's current situation the previous night.
Now that the Court of Owls was involved, the threat had escalated to a whole new level.
Bruce had hoped to wait until he'd fully healed before launching another attack, but Thea knew every second mattered.
The Court of Owls—ancient, ruthless Gotham aristocrats—was capable of anything.
They didn't need to say another word.
Bruce silently ceded command to her. If he were in full health, leadership would naturally fall to him—no one, not even Superman, would argue that. But since he couldn't move freely, the chain of command now rested with Thea.
By nine o'clock, the officers, volunteers, and veteran fighters had all gathered.
Those who knew each other exchanged brief words of surprise—about the sunlight.
Yes, sunlight. Something so ordinary elsewhere, yet in Gotham, almost miraculous.
Even on the rare "clear" days of the past, it had never shone this bright.
For lifelong Gothamites, waking up to a blazing sun was almost painful.
Throughout the city, convenience stores and specialty shops sold out of sunglasses within hours.
Distributors across the country flooded manufacturers with calls, forcing factories into nonstop overtime to meet Gotham's sudden, bizarre demand.
Economists were already speculating whether this phenomenon hinted at a new climate event—or perhaps, more dramatically, a geopolitical crisis.
Bruce, meanwhile, had been busy since dawn.
He'd analyzed the Scarecrow toxin sample Thea had brought back and created a specialized antidote—each injection providing twelve hours of immunity.
Last time, the battlefield had been too chaotic to risk using gas.
But if today's sonic weapon worked, victory would be swift—and Scarecrow, ever the madman, might unleash his toxin just to spite them.
Still, the billionaire didn't have time to mass-produce hundreds of doses.
He prepared only enough for his inner circle. Even Felicity, who wasn't going to the front lines, received one.
As for the police and citizen volunteers—he wouldn't leave them defenseless.
He handed Robin a reinforced vial of antidote—eight hundred milliliters—to throw into the crowd if needed. It would neutralize the gas for about an hour.
"Barbara," Bruce said, "you and Robin will move together. You'll handle the Court of Owls' Talons. I'll be supporting you remotely."
It was the same formation as before.
With Death Angel and Mr. Freeze out of commission, they should have the advantage.
But after Bruce confirmed Thea's suspicions—that "Talon" wasn't one person but a title shared by many—her confidence waned.
If every Talon fought like the last one, even facing three at once would be tough.
"Catwoman and Miss Bridget Pyke will serve as mobile support. Handle emergencies as they arise."
She looked around the group. "No questions? Good. Move out!"
Just before departure, Bruce pulled Thea aside and switched to Mandarin.
"Keep an eye on Selina for me," he said in a low voice. "I'm… worried about her and Talia…"
His words trailed off. Even he didn't know how to finish that sentence.
If either of them got hurt, he'd be torn apart.
Thea blinked, startled to hear fluent Chinese from him—but then remembered that Lady Shiva had mentioned it before.
Of course he knew the language. Bruce Wayne had mastered every major one on Earth.
Not just Mandarin—Cantonese too.
All Thea could do was bow her head slightly in admiration.
Still, it made sense. Chinese was the perfect private language—none of the others here would understand a word.
And even though his meaning was vague, she caught it.
He wanted her to watch over Talia, to pull her back if she went too far… but without making Selina suspicious.