Felicity had no choice but to change out of her usual outfit into something more practical. She rummaged through boxes and drawers until she found a set of sportswear and slipped on a pair of comfortable sneakers.
No matter how Thea looked at the old dress she had found, she felt it carried the weight of time. The style was clearly outdated, and she considered suggesting a different outfit that would better represent Star City's modern image. However, seeing Catwoman checking the time repeatedly, she gave up on the idea. She hoped that amid Gotham's chaos, no one would care about intercity fashion statements.
The three of them rushed to the Queens' private helipad, hauling suitcases of all sizes. Most of the gear belonged to Thea: hundreds of arrows with various tips, longswords, daggers, and throwing knives.
The two recently confiscated pistols were taken by Thea and Felicity, respectively. Although Thea wasn't an expert with firearms, her proficiency with long-range weapons like the bow made her aim dependable—perhaps even more so than that of many police officers.
Felicity brought her weapon solely for personal protection, with the clear understanding not to fire it at an ally by accident.
"Thea, where are you going?" Moira appeared, visibly worried after hearing about the urgent helicopter request. She still wasn't used to her daughter's lifestyle, always acting on her own initiative.
"Oh, we're just going to spend some time at the beach in Malibu..." Thea replied casually, wrapping her arms around Felicity and Catwoman's waists with a light smile.
Felicity and Thea had shared this kind of closeness for years. Catwoman, on the other hand, wasn't used to such gestures. Slightly startled, she masked her discomfort and returned the hug with a tense smile.
Moira already knew Felicity—she was an employee of the company and a trusted friend of Thea's. Catwoman, however, was new. Beautiful, with a commanding presence and a gaze that suggested both strength and unrest, she struck Moira as dangerous. Still, she said nothing, only asking them to call once they arrived at their destination to confirm they were safe.
As a seasoned mother, Moira already suspected certain things about her daughter's life, but she knew that Thea's safety and well-being came before everything else. There was no room for judgment—only care.
She even discussed the matter with Malcolm. At first, he was surprised, but eventually came to the same conclusion: what mattered most was that Thea was okay. Regardless of who was by her side, he preferred it be someone she could trust.
After all, many parents struggle with their daughters growing up—especially when they start building close bonds. But Malcolm realized that trying to control it would only drive her further away. He thought: the best thing is to let her live her life, as long as she's safe.
Unaware of her parents' concerns, Thea simply asked Catwoman to take the pilot's seat. "You're leading the way. If we get lost, it won't be on me."
In the backseat, Felicity was already hacking into the Gotham Police Department's firewall. Despite Gotham being a massive city with millions of residents, it only took her about ten minutes to outline the mission's targets.
Thea glanced at the screen: Scarecrow, Riddler, and Penguin were among them. Most had already made appearances before. She searched for any sign of Poison Ivy but found nothing. Maybe she hadn't returned to the city yet—which was a relief. With no metahumans involved, the threats were more manageable.
"Get ready, we're almost there!" Catwoman called from the cockpit. Through the window, Thea could see Gotham looming in the distance. The city seemed cloaked in a dark, choking cloud. Every now and then, bursts of fire pierced the darkness.
No one really understood why someone had decided to build a city in that place. Thea tried applying the natural perception technique she had learned from Shiva to sense the surrounding energy. It felt heavy, tense—as if something terrible could happen at any moment.
Catwoman commented that even without the current crisis, Gotham was always violent. Daily deaths often went unnoticed. Thea couldn't help but think grimly: if a necromancer showed up here, he wouldn't even need a ritual—the dead would practically rise on their own.
If Star City was a sick old man, Gotham was a crumbling giant. It was hard to say which of the two was worse off.
The helicopter was now flying over the city, and Thea could clearly see the chaos unfolding below—looting, fights, screams. Elderly people were being knocked down for a few dollars. Gotham seemed on the brink of collapse.
Thea felt a wave of sorrow. All of Batman's efforts seemed to have been for nothing. Now that she had the skills to help, she couldn't turn a blind eye. What had once been a personal mission now felt like a matter of justice.
But ideals are one thing; reality is another. Just as she prepared to descend and engage, she realized the helicopter was still circling above the city.
"Why aren't we landing?" she shouted to Catwoman. "More people are dying every minute!"
Frustrated, the pilot replied, "Do you see a safe place to land? It's chaos down there!"
Before she could finish the sentence, gunfire erupted from below, bullets narrowly missing the aircraft. While not powerful enough to cause serious damage, it was yet another symptom of the disorder below.
Thea spotted a large, bald man on the ground holding a rocket launcher. Her eyes widened.
"Pull up! Now!" she shouted.
Catwoman reacted instantly. The helicopter surged upward just in time, and the rocket whooshed past beneath them. A collective sigh of relief filled the cabin.