In truth, the best outcome would've been to lure Bane straight toward the incoming crime families and let them tear each other apart.
But no one was that foolish — those families had surface-to-air missiles.
No pilot in their right mind would dare get close.
The irony wasn't lost on Thea: America's military, so proud of its "freedom and democracy," had grown so undisciplined that it could barely function.
A perfect system—on paper.
In practice? Everyone wanted to fight easy battles, and the moment things got dangerous, entire squads mutinied.
She couldn't trust that an order given from eight blocks away would actually be obeyed.
Just as she was preparing to call for retreat, Barbara came running toward her, cheeks flushed and eyes shining.
"Retreat? Why retreat?"
And honestly, she wasn't wrong.
Today's fight had been a massacre — in a good way.
By Thea's conservative estimate, they'd wiped out at least one-third of Gotham's criminal population — permanently.
Even Batman, with his no-kill rule, would've needed two years to achieve that.
Barbara lifted a limp figure by the collar, grinning ear to ear.
"Look who I caught — Scarecrow! Hah!"
The former professor of fear was unconscious, a bullet wound in his shoulder still bleeding steadily.
Seeing that he hadn't lost any limbs, Thea felt a little regret.
Now that he'd been captured alive, killing him outright would be… inconvenient.
As for Barbara's question, Thea didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm.
She simply lowered her voice.
"We're running low on ammo."
Barbara froze.
No ammo — that meant they'd end up just like the unarmed thugs they'd slaughtered moments ago.
She turned toward her father.
His silence was confirmation enough.
Then she looked back at Thea, desperate.
"Then what do we do?"
"Relax. The area's huge. I've already sent Catwoman to scout ahead — she knows the terrain. We'll circle around and head back to camp."
Thea knew the Second Battle of Arkham was over.
Next time, it would be Batman's turn to lead.
A strange sense of melancholy welled up in her chest.
She glanced at Scarecrow being carried off and asked about the rest.
The report came quickly:
the two Talons had escaped,
Penguin's whereabouts were unknown,
and Pigface — due to his size — had been mistaken for an enhanced soldier and gunned down on the spot.
The Talons' escape worked in her favor.
If Penguin was alive, Talia would deal with him soon enough.
They hadn't destroyed Arkham entirely, but the enemy's core strength was gone.
A costly fight — but a decisive victory.
She ordered the main force to regroup with Catwoman and follow her detour route through Seventh Avenue and Poplar Street, looping back to camp.
Before leaving, she instructed Firefly — whose pyromaniac skill tree was clearly maxed out — to plant incendiaries along the perimeter.
It would block pursuit… and finally burn that cursed asylum to the ground.
The retreat went smoothly.
The major crime families, motivated only by the Court of Owls' money, had no interest in fighting to the death.
With a silent, mutual understanding, both sides disengaged.
Back at camp, things finally calmed down — at least for Thea.
She didn't rush to activate the tracking beacon; the Court of Owls wasn't desperate enough yet.
There was still time to wait.
During dinner, the team gathered to discuss their next move.
This time, Thea said little, quietly transferring command responsibilities back to Batman.
Both of them understood the silent shift perfectly — her turn was over; his had begun.
Partway through the meeting, an officer leaned down to whisper something in Gordon's ear.
"I'll handle it. Be right back," the old commissioner said, rising from his seat.
But before he could even reach the door, a shrill, panicked voice rang out from outside:
"Jim! Old friend! You have to help me—arrest me! Please, arrest me right now!"
There was a scuffle outside — someone trying to restrain the screeching man.
Voluntarily turning himself in? That was a first.
But there was only one man who'd call Gordon "old friend."
Oswald Cobblepot.
The Penguin.
Thea almost laughed in disbelief.
So the stubborn bird had survived after all.
Considering even the hulking Bane had nearly lost his mind after taking one of her freeze arrows,
the fact that Penguin was still alive and walking was, frankly, impressive.
"Take him to the observation room," Bruce said, his voice firm.
"We'll question him there."
He couldn't risk letting the man barge in.
Half the people in this room weren't wearing masks —
and while it didn't matter for Robin or Barbara,
both Bruce and Thea had public identities that couldn't afford exposure.
Dinner was forgotten.
Everyone followed Gordon to the surveillance room.
Penguin's appearance could only be described as pitiful.
Hair wild, face pale, clothes torn —
he looked more ghost than man.
His crippled leg had gone completely black with frostbite,
and he was barely standing, supported by his loyal men.
He seemed to know he was being watched through the camera.
Looking straight into the lens, he broke down,
confessing his crimes and begging for arrest —
as if imprisonment was his only hope of survival.
"What do we do with him?" Gordon asked quietly.
Everyone could tell what this was: fear.
He wasn't surrendering out of guilt — he was running for his life.
But as commissioner, Gordon couldn't just throw him out either.
His eyes shifted instinctively toward Thea.
She knew what he was really asking:
what did the League's rules demand?
Would accepting a fugitive under her "banner" mean betraying some ancient vendetta?
Could this one decision doom his entire precinct?
Thea sighed inwardly.
The hole she'd dug earlier — all that "League of Assassins mystique" — was now swallowing her whole.
She couldn't just say "Oh, that was all an act."
Mystery was her best armor.
So she passed the burden neatly.
"Let Uncle Bruce decide."
And with that, she turned and left the room.
Batman could only stare after her, half amused, half exasperated.
With his intellect, he'd already pieced it together —
Talia must've been the one who terrified Penguin into this state.
Thea didn't care, but he couldn't ignore it.
He didn't want to see Talia, yet he couldn't let a criminal go free.
For a moment, he actually considered pretending to be sick again and dumping the problem back on Thea.
But she was long gone.
In the end, principle won out.
"Lock him up."
"Hmph!"
Catwoman, who'd been watching silently, caught the hesitation in his eyes.
She didn't need to be a mind reader to know he was thinking about his ex.
Jealousy surged hot and fast — she slammed the door and stormed out.
Batman sighed heavily.
Misunderstood again.
Irritated and restless, he stepped outside for some air —
and found Thea sitting high up in a tree, staring off toward the dark skyline.
He approached quietly.
"What are you thinking about?"
Thea jumped down lightly, landing beside him.
"My father… and my brother."
It wasn't a lie.
She didn't know whether she'd disrupted Oliver's destiny,
but she realized she didn't care anymore.
All she wanted was to bring him home —
to have their family together again in Star City.
As for the League, the Green Arrow, or Talia al Ghul?
They could all go to hell.