A Queen Among Heroes

[ Outside Chinese Restaurant, Gotham City ]

Both girls were agile—heroes trained in speed and survival. With their long legs slicing through the air, they didn't expect to outrun the Flash, but they were more than capable of outrunning panicked civilians. Amid the chaos, they performed what could only be described as a live-action rendition of Run, Sisters, leaving behind flailing arms and toppled chairs as they bolted from the collapsing restaurant.

They didn't stop until they found a spot with a broader view, merging seamlessly into the growing crowd of gawkers who had rushed over at the sound of the explosion. No one had any idea what had happened, of course, but Gothamites had long since developed the peculiar habit of watching disaster unfold like it was a reality show with no commercial breaks.

Catwoman, naturally, had to take the lead as the "local." And truthfully, curiosity had already gotten the better of her. With Thea watching from the sidelines, she slipped into the fray, dragged one of the blood-smeared gang members into a quiet corner, and gave him a quick "interview" with her fists. Minutes later, she returned, brushing off her sleeves with satisfaction.

"It's Killer Croc," she said, matter-of-factly. "Apparently jumped out of the sewer mid-shakedown and killed two guys on the spot. Didn't expect him to get out too."

Thea didn't bother asking who that was. In Gotham, the list of rogues was long, and most of them had at least one dance with Batman. That made things easier. First time? Scary. Second time? Strategy. Most Gotham villains were terrifying in their debut, but eventually, they were just boss fights with reused mechanics. The important thing was that heroes learned. They evolved.

It reminded her of anime logic—like how a Saint Seiya's move only worked once. That principle existed here too. Many of Gotham's villains had freakish powers or mutations, and the first battle was often a disaster. But by the second round, once the variables were known, they were no longer apocalyptic threats—just bad guys with a known weakness.

Thea's resolve toward her tech-based path only deepened. She wasn't picking the high-tech route because she wanted to—she was doing it because she had to. If she'd been lucky enough to be born with Kryptonian DNA, she'd be sunbathing on the beach right now, not dodging rockets and sewer beasts. But life didn't give you choices—it gave you problems to solve.

Just as she was about to ask Catwoman what Batman's usual strategy was against Killer Croc, a deep rumble trembled through the street. They both turned just in time to watch the outer load-bearing wall of the restaurant crumble into itself.

The building groaned once—twice—and then, with a reluctant exhale, collapsed entirely into a heap of bricks and splinters. Dust rose high into the twilight like a gray curtain.

A beat of silence passed.

"What a pity," Catwoman murmured, her tone oddly sentimental. "The fish in that restaurant was really good…"

Thea didn't even respond. She could only nod faintly, silently saluting the psychological resilience of Gotham's residents. Not everyone could watch their favorite lunch spot get obliterated and mourn nothing but the flavor.

"Let's go," Catwoman said, tugging Thea by the wrist as she turned away from the ruined restaurant. Thea stumbled slightly, glancing back in confusion. Were they seriously leaving now? What about the so-called righteous friends—the defenders of the city? Walking away just like that didn't sit well with her. Especially after they'd eaten a good amount and hadn't even paid the bill. Surely they could help out a little. The restaurant owner had just collapsed in the bathroom, sobbing like his world had ended.

Almost as if she could hear her thoughts, Catwoman offered an explanation without being asked. "Killer Croc rarely goes ashore when there's a large crowd around. He tends to stick to places with water—storm drains, sewers, canals. We're going back to change and gear up. He won't get far. There's a small artificial lake nearby, and that's most likely where he'll surface."

Thea's expression shifted at the mention of water combat. Fighting underwater? That was not part of her game plan. Her equipment hadn't been tested for submersion. Arrows and high-tech gadgets didn't exactly function well in a lake. She didn't even like getting wet, for crying out loud. If everyone else jumped in, all she'd be able to offer was moral support from dry land.

They were rushing down a narrow path when Thea's phone buzzed. She pulled it out, pressed accept, and Felicity's voice came through the line.

"Thea, are you still out there? Listen—Killer Croc was spotted near an artificial lake close to you. Honestly, who name himself 'Killer Croc'? His creativity is really on vacation," Felicity muttered. "Anyway, Robin's already on his way, and Barbara's a bit worried. Can you go help?"

Thea hesitated for only a breath. She had a decent amount of respect for the silent Robin. As Batman's first protégé, it was almost like he was a son-in-law-in-waiting if Bruce had never had a daughter. Felicity hadn't sounded too panicked, but the situation clearly wasn't good.

"It's too late to get our gear. Should we just head over?" she asked, glancing at Catwoman. There wasn't a moment of hesitation in her companion. Whether it was Robin or even Barbara—despite their rocky dynamic—Catwoman wasn't the type to abandon her own. Without a word, she broke into a run, and Thea followed at her heels.

As they pushed deeper into the outskirts, the scenery began to shift. Trees thickened around them, muffling the distant city sounds. Human traces—footsteps, voices, even litter—grew sparse, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the sharp scent of damp earth.

Eventually, they passed a wide stretch of sand, and Thea finally spotted their destination. The infamous artificial lake.

...

[ Artificial Lake, Abandoned Amusement Park, Gotham city ]

The place looked like it had once been a massive amusement park, now completely abandoned due to disrepair. What remained of its former joy—splintered wooden horses, rusted iron rails, and a Ferris wheel frozen mid-spin—only deepened the eerie stillness. A ghost town built for laughter, now echoing with silence.

Tucked into the northern corner of this desolate playground sat the artificial lake. As Thea and Catwoman approached, they spotted Robin already engaged in fierce combat. He was armed with escrima sticks and when joined together, they become a staff. He is facing off against the monstrous figure of Killer Croc.

Thea's first impression was blunt and honest: this guy is hideous. He resembled some upright-walking humanoid beast. His upper body was bare, revealing thick, dark gray scales from neck to torso. His head was disproportionately large, with a jaw crammed full of razor-like teeth.

Easily over two meters tall and just as broad, Killer Croc's limbs looked like they could snap telephone poles. He had to weigh over 500 kilos. Thea studied him with an incredulous shake of her head. How much did this thing need to eat in a day?

"How did this guy end up like that? Vicious experiment? Biochemical weapon gone wrong?" Thea asked, her eyes flicking between the brawl and Catwoman. Robin didn't seem in immediate danger, holding his ground well. Thea's question was mostly curiosity, spiced with disbelief.

The creature was far from normal. Just look at him—claws like knives, a jaw like a bear trap. Yet here he was, roaming Gotham like a local dog catcher. The fact that no scientist had dissected him for the sake of "research" was, in Thea's view, a miracle of Gotham's tolerance.

Catwoman was quiet for a beat, thinking. "Bruce analyzed his DNA. There's no sign of tampering. No experiments. No transformations. He's a normal human… with a few genetic reversions."

Thea turned to gape at her. In the distance, Killer Croc unleashed a combo of swipes, bites, and stomps that would make a rhino proud. A few? This thing was one monstrous DNA strand away from being a kaiju. You're saying that is an ordinary human? Thea thought. If that's normal, I must be Superman's seventh uncle.

Catwoman caught the frown flickering on Thea's face and immediately recognized the disbelief there. She raised both hands in mock surrender, unwilling to shoulder Bruce's theories. "Hey, that's all Bruce's analysis. If you've got doubts, take it up with him when he crawls back from wherever he is."

With that, the conversation ended, and both women turned their attention fully to the fight unfolding by the lake's edge.

It didn't take long for Thea to see through Killer Croc's fighting style. Or rather, his complete lack of one. He threw punches like sledgehammers and kicked like a battering ram, but his movements were stiff and unrefined—raw power with no discipline. From that angle, she begrudgingly accepted Bruce's assessment. Maybe it wasn't too far off to call him a very unlucky, extremely mutated "ordinary man."

More importantly, Thea focused on Robin. This quiet, brooding guy—Barbara's maybe-boyfriend—fought with a surprisingly fiery rhythm. His staff danced in his hands like a live wire, his long black hair sweeping behind him as he weaved between Croc's attacks. Occasionally, his voice rang out in short, sharp cries, timed with the crackling "thwack thwack" of his weapon smashing against scaly flesh.

Thea had to admit—his skills were solid. Batman hadn't raised him in vain. She gauged his performance with a critical eye. If she stripped away her high-tech equipment, she'd probably have a slight edge over him, a half-step faster, a bit more precise. But even so, it would be a close match. A single mistake could turn the tide.

What she saw now was a classic case—martial skill versus brute force. Killer Croc was dangerous, yes, but he couldn't land a clean hit. And without that, all his monstrous strength was useless. Robin had already won.

To Be Continued...

---xxx---

[POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS]