Ever since she'd switched to the Kevlar combat suit Batman provided, Thea had retired her old anti-shock armor. The new suit resisted pressure, bullets, and blades — all while being breathable and temperature-regulating.
It wasn't quite "rip-your-shirt-and-fly-off" level like Superman or Supergirl, but compared to her old gear, it was fast, efficient, and sleek.
Once she suited up, she told no one. She strapped on her weapons, jumped onto her hoverboard, and shot off in the direction of the mysterious voice.
Though she was no longer in command, she hadn't stopped keeping tabs on Gotham's weather. Every few days she'd tell the old commissioner to "light up the sky," and out of respect, he always did. The expense barely registered for Batman — the fuel for one Batsuit jet was enough to cover it.
The clouds, however, didn't stand a chance. Her constant atmospheric "tweaks" had made Gotham's nights strangely clear; where there had once been endless gloom, now even the moonlight felt pure and silver.
Crime rates? Who knew. But at least the city looked cleaner.
Under the bright moon, Thea oriented herself. The whispering voice kept calling, soft and deliberate —
"Come to me… I can help you…"
It was coming from the south.
Gotham was a port city — sea to the east, inland connections north and west. But south… south was nothing but endless marshland. No people, no lights, only fog and mud.
Despite her unease, Thea steadied her breathing, slowed her hoverboard to a cautious glide, and scanned the terrain below.
No alarms from her sensors, no heat signatures on infrared — no sign of anything alive.
Then, a voice, deeper now:
"I'm here… young one."
She instantly nocked an ice arrow, bow drawn, and began to descend. Her body tense, her eyes darting for any sign of movement.
But at twenty meters above the ground, she saw nothing. No person. No animal. Just mud, reeds, and silence.
"Where are you?"
It felt ridiculous yelling into the swamp — but she truly couldn't see who, or what, was talking.
"I'm coming out… I'm not a bad person…"
A wet gurgling rose from below. The swamp churned violently.
Then, with a splash that sent mud flying high into the air, something — someone — emerged.
A massive, green, humanoid creature hauled itself from the mire, vines trailing like veins, sludge pouring from its body. Every movement shook the ground, gallons of muck raining back into the swamp.
Five meters tall.
Easily several tons.
Green. Hulking. Alive.
Thea just stared, wide-eyed and frozen.
Her hand tightened on the bow — but for the first time, the weapon gave her no sense of safety.
Could my arrows even hurt that thing?
Her hoverboard hummed beneath her feet — her one comfort. If I can't beat it, I can at least run… right?
The giant shifted in place, flexing its shoulders and wiping its mossy face. When it didn't attack, Thea took a gamble and shouted,
"You're the one calling me?"
The distance between them — fifty meters, maybe more — forced her to raise her voice.
For a long thirty seconds, the creature didn't respond. Her nerves twisted tighter with every heartbeat.
Finally, in a voice like the rumble of earth itself:
"Yes… young one…"
Thea's eyebrow twitched. Great. A talker. And a slow one.
Still — he didn't seem hostile. She exhaled, lowering her altitude to meet him at eye level.
"What do you… uh, want with me?"
"It's a long story. You'll need patience."
Thea nodded politely. "Patience" wasn't exactly her strength, but she could fake it if it kept her alive.
"I'm not a bad person," he added again.
She almost rolled her eyes. They always say that. Every villain in history started with "I only wanted to help."
"I was once a botanist," the creature said slowly. "Because of an experiment, I became… this. My name was Alec Holland. Now, they call me Swamp Thing."
There was a wistful note in his voice — but it passed quickly.
"Our world has many supernatural forces. I am one of them. And my superiors have sensed… something within you. Something beyond the ordinary. That is why I was sent — to make contact."
"What?" Thea's mind blanked. "Wait, me? I have a… what kind of reaction?"
Supernatural? She? That made no sense. Thea Queen 1.0 had been painfully normal — no powers, no magic, just trauma and bad luck.
Her dad dead, her mom dead, every boyfriend doomed. That wasn't "supernatural," that was a cosmic joke.
"I don't get it," she said warily. "Are you here to warn me, or to capture me?"
Because in this world, people who "made contact" often followed it up with burning, cutting, or experimenting.
Swamp Thing's massive head shook.
"I am here to help you. As I said before."
Right. That phrase again.
And every "helper" she'd ever met had come armed with knives, bombs, or mind control.
She stayed silent, waiting.
"You've come into possession of a relic," he continued. "That relic has awakened your bloodline. You are not a mere human — you carry the legacy of an ancient sage."
A relic?
That part was easy to guess — the painting.
The one Catwoman had "liberated" from Killer Moth.
She'd brought it with her, tucked safely in her pack.
As for the "bloodline" talk… that was harder to swallow.
Was this something infused by the relic — or something she'd always had?
It sounded lofty, sure — bloodlines, hidden powers, ancient inheritances — but her? Really?
Still, she drew out the scroll carefully, wary he might try to take it.
"You mean this? This is the relic you're talking about?
And… could you maybe explain the bloodline thing?"
Swamp Thing's mouth — or what passed for one — curved into what he probably thought was a gentle smile. To Thea, it looked terrifying.
"Only you can know your own bloodline," he said. "I was once human, but no longer. I cannot trace your origin. The answer lies within you."
Only she could know?
That was absurd — she didn't know anything!
But as she opened her mouth to protest, something stirred in her mind — a sudden flash of clarity.
The winding forest path from the painting.
The strange whispers.
And… her surname.
Merlyn.
Her thoughts froze.
Bloodline.
Legacy.
Merlyn.
The pieces clicked together — and her heart began to pound.