A Queen Among Heroes

[ Artificial Lake, Abandoned Amusement Park, Gotham city ]

"Oh, it's Barbara. That was fast." Catwoman, whose eyesight had always been sharper than most, was the first to spot the newcomer approaching.

And sure enough, Batgirl—dressed in her signature black cape with golden gloves and boots—swept onto the scene like a gust of wind, her motorcycle kicking up a faint trail of dust in her wake.

"Robin, are you alright?" she called out, ignoring the two casually spectating girls nearby. Her attention locked onto Robin, who was standing by the lake with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. She thought he was injured.

In truth, Robin hadn't been injured at all. He'd just overused his voice. Compared to Killer Croc's thunderous vocal cords—powered by a frame that stood over 2.2 meters tall and weighed more than five hundred kilograms—Robin was just an ordinary human, and a rather lean one at that. Shouting like a megaphone for five minutes straight had winded him more than any punch could have.

Barbara, misreading his silence, assumed the worst. Her gaze swept toward Thea and Catwoman with a flash of blame in her eyes. "You two went too far," she said coldly, tossing aside her motorcycle before sprinting toward Robin.

Huh? How is this our fault? Thea raised an eyebrow at the outburst. This Batgirl was clearly the kind of person who filtered the world through her own biases. If something fit her expectations, it was truth; if it didn't, it was wrong. Very black and white thinking.

Watching Barbara charge toward Robin, Thea turned to Catwoman with a smirk. They exchanged a knowing look and slipped into expressions of theatrical innocence, clearly amused by the drama unfolding before them.

Then came the twist.

Just two meters away, Barbara's expression froze. Robin's sleek combat suit, once black and red, had been reduced to a swampy mess of white-green goo and stink. The stench hit her like a wall. Her nose crinkled. Her steps faltered.

She skidded to a stop, raising both hands like she'd hit an invisible barrier. "Wait—hold on—" she choked, waving at Robin to stay put. The look on her face said it all: I love you, but not like this.

In truth, Robin had no intention of stepping forward—on the contrary, he took a few cautious steps back. He might've been innocent, but he wasn't an idiot. After shouting insults by the lake for so long, even he had begun to suspect something was wrong with his… fragrance. If he were to throw himself into Barbara's arms right now, there were only two possible outcomes: either she would snap, lose all sense of morality and go villain, or she'd beat him into carbon dust. Whether they broke up afterward or not wouldn't even matter—it would already be a question of survival.

When Barbara noticed he didn't lunge forward, she actually let out a small sigh of relief. Then her eyes drifted over the details of his current… condition. The more she looked, the more she regretted it. Her expression contorted, and she subconsciously began to inch backward.

By the time she retreated to a safe distance where the smell couldn't reach her anymore, she found herself beside the two women who had witnessed the whole thing from the start. She cast a sour look their way and said irritably, "You knew this already? Are you happy now? Just laugh if you want to…"

Thea didn't hesitate. True to the cheerful spirit of Star City, she took the offer at face value and laughed without mercy. There was no need to pretend. Watching this entire scene unfold had felt like sitting through an open-air play—if Robin and Barbara had started quoting Shakespeare, it might've earned a standing ovation.

Catwoman, ever mindful of future teamwork, didn't dare be so ruthless. She kept her laughter tucked away and smoothly changed the subject. "So… what's our next move?"

Yes, what was their next move? The full five-person lineup was finally assembled. Even though there weren't any cameras around, Thea spotted a drone hovering in the air—clearly Felicity had taken on the unspoken role of cheerleader, observing from afar.

But the reality remained bleak: all four frontline fighters were DPS, and all of them leaned heavily into agility. Up against a thick-skinned, muscle-bound Boss like Killer Croc, their team comp was a disaster. Not to mention two of them didn't even have their gear. Forget victory—survival was looking optimistic at best.

Barbara, unaware of the full extent of Thea's mental monologue, turned to her with a polite smile and asked, "Miss Thea, do you have any suggestions?"

"No suggestions…" Thea shrugged, arms loosely crossed. Honestly, how long had she even been in Gotham? She didn't even know the name of the monster until Catwoman told her. But speaking of which, that reminded her—"How did you catch him last time?"

Surely this stench wasn't new. Either that, or Killer Croc had suddenly acquired the world's worst mutation after going into hiding. If he had purposely cultivated this biological weapon to counter them, then frankly, he deserved some credit. For someone halfway regressed to the Cretaceous period, he had a surprisingly tactical mind.

But how had they caught him before?

Barbara blinked, caught off guard by the question. Though she looked composed, she admitted frankly, "I know I look older, but technically I'm still a junior. I wasn't around back then, so… no clue." She gave an apologetic glance toward the Catwoman beside her.

Catwoman thought hard, brows furrowed beneath her goggles. "Doesn't ring a bell. I must've been busy back then." Probably out relieving the corrupt of their spare millions. She shook her head lightly. "Anyway, I never dealt with him directly. I would've remembered that stench."

Watching both of them deny involvement, Thea's optimism deflated. Great—nobody knew the strategy. Fortunately, there was still one possibility.

She turned to Barbara and said, "Call Robin over. Let's ask him."

Technically, Robin wasn't far away—they could've just shouted. But Thea, ever cautious, considered the possibility of unwanted eavesdropping. The last thing they needed was to recite a battle plan out loud while the enemy was right there in the lake listening. Nothing screamed amateur like leaking your strategy in front of the boss.

Barbara gave a subtle nod and waved toward Robin, who was still standing stiffly at the lakeside, lost in his own fog of stench and contemplation.

"What's up?" he called as he made his way over. But when he was still two meters out, all three women simultaneously raised their hands in a coordinated stop gesture.

Robin froze mid-step, clearly accustomed by now to this kind of rejection. He stood there helplessly, like an outcast at his own party, surrounded by allies yet socially—and olfactorily—isolated.

Barbara ask the question with a furrowed brow. "How did Batman catch Killer Croc last time?"

"I don't know. Don't you?" Robin looked baffled, offended even. If I knew, would I still be standing here like this? His expression said it all. Covered in unmentionable gunk, unsure if Barbara would even let him step through the door tonight—did they really think he enjoyed looking and smelling like a walking dumpster?

The four of them exchanged uncertain glances. Was Batman really the only one who knew how to handle Killer Croc? Had he dealt with the monster solo and simply never told them how? And he is nowhere to be found! Did Alfred know the answer? Or maybe Commissioner Gordon had the playbook?

Thea was honestly stunned. Seriously? Batman was the guy who carried an entire encyclopedia of everyone's weaknesses in his little black book—friends and enemies alike. And these people didn't even take notes on the fights they won? No wonder he didn't share anything with them. They were like loyal retrievers waiting for scraps.

At last, the three members of the extended Bat Family turned to Thea with expectant looks. The girl from Star City. The outsider. Did she, by any miracle, have an idea?

Thea did have an idea.

Her principle had always been to prepare in advance. And earlier, while watching Killer Croc stomp around like a biohazard tank, she'd already thought of a method: freezing arrows. Attack from a distance, keep herself clean, and avoid close combat. If one arrow didn't work, she'd shoot two.

The issue was that she hadn't brought many of them—just five, and they weren't cheap. Each was basically a mini science project launched at high speed. They were meant for Bane, actually. That guy with arms like tree trunks and a head built like a wrecking ball. If you could slow him down, you could break him down.

But Bane could wait.

Right now, Killer Croc was the more immediate concern.

"I've got a plan," Thea said, nodding. "But I'll need to get my gear first. You guys hold him here—I'll be back soon." Without waiting for a reply, she hopped onto Barbara's discarded motorcycle and gunned the engine, kicking up dust as she sped off toward the city.

To Be Continued...

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