Selene
I spun in place, soaking it all in.
Massive trees burst with leaves too green to be natural. Fireflies danced between twinkling bioluminescent vines and glowing bulbs that lit up the walkways, corridors, and storefronts.
There were hundreds of them—food stalls, makeup counters, weapon dealers, and more. I could spend days down here. And thanks to the spending money the boss gave us, I actually could.
"I think we should hit the Boba shop first," I said, grinning and tugging Will's hand. "We'll need the energy if we're gonna fight."
Will stopped short, jerking me back. I winced.
He'd gotten a lot stronger since that night at the orphanage. In more ways than one, he was still adjusting.
"I already told you, you're not fighting," Will said, voice sharp. "Screw what the boss says."
"You know it's gotta be me, babe," I said, cradling his face. "No offense to you boys, but I don't think Dr. Strange is your type."
Will gripped my hands tighter and shook his head. "This isn't right."
"I can take care of myself," I replied. "Besides, it's not like we haven't pulled off scams like this before."
"None of those got you hurt," Will shot back.
"The boss will patch me up."
"And what if the guy you're up against goes too far?" Will snapped. "You attract attention, Selene. I don't want some freak getting obsessed with you."
"I'll do the deed myself," Tyler cut in, glancing back at us. "Make it clean. Then I'm out. Will, you're our best bet for making real money. So go all in."
He had that look in his eye—same as me. Excited about the Underground, but for totally different reasons.
"None of this feels right," Will said, frowning. "Asking my girlfriend to risk her life. Magic contracts. Mystery scientists. It's insane."
"We're past the point of no return," Tyler reminded him. "You should've backed out when we first brought this up. Like it or not, he's our boss now. And he didn't get that powerful by playing it safe."
"His damn durability makes him hard to kill. We're not so lucky," Will muttered, remembering the boss's fight reels. Say what you want about Julius, but the guy could take a beating.
I reached up and massaged his shoulder, channeling my power to calm him. It was the only thing that worked when he got like this—panicked and afraid.
"It's going to be okay, baby. You'll see."
The words were to reassure him as much as me. We've taken all sorts of crazy risks before. It was the only way to survive the Narrows. But this was something else. I couldn't charm us out of this mess if something goes wrong, but I couldn't let the boys see.
Tyler wore his mask as well as I did. But Will. He needed my confidence to be his best self.
He kissed me.
"Alright Babe. I believe you."
__
Julius's POV
"I know they call her Queen, but I didn't expect an actual palace," I said to Barbara—the real name of the boss's second-in-command, the one who ran the Underground fighting pits.
We climbed a spiraling staircase woven from vines. It led to a massive dome at the very top of the Underground's structure. The dome hugged the ceiling, lit by artificial starlight: bioluminescent plants and water refractions that created a glittering canopy.
"You've offered the Queen a service," Barbara said, hands clasped behind her back. "It's only right you speak to her directly."
I twisted my lips in thought and glanced down at the colosseum.
My team should've been in the ring by now. Their job was to fight and deliver my message to Hugo, while I brokered a treaty upstairs.
Hopefully, things were going according to plan. But they rarely did.
"I see you've upgraded the guards since I was last here," I said. "Tattoos. Physical enhancements. Ivy's doing?"
"Our world evolves quickly," Barbara said. "It's only natural we keep pace."
"Whatever she gave them, it's better than Venom. And it looks permanent?"
She smirked. "Astute. Interested in enhancements?"
"I mean… who wouldn't want to throw a car across the street if things got ugly?"
She chuckled—low and sonorous. We traded remarks until we stopped in front of a pair of massive doors.
"She's meeting with Gotham's biggest players. That now includes you, to some extent," Barbara said. "Choose your next words wisely. Your life may depend on them."
I looked over at her. "You won't speak on my behalf?"
"You do such a good job of that already," she said with a smile. "I wouldn't want to undercut your message."
I snorted and adjusted my helmet to make sure it was sealed. "You could at least pretend you're not enjoying this so much."
"Why would I ever do that?" she replied, smiling a little wider.
She touched the ornate wooden doors—too smooth and perfect to be carved—and they rippled before hissing open and swinging inward.
A wave of fresh air and floating pollen greeted me.
The floor was made of carved stone, and the walls were lined with strange plants in clay pots. As I stepped inside, dozens of men and women jerked toward me in alarm.
Guns swiveled. Blades were drawn. Spears aimed.
My fist clenched, ready for a fight—until I remembered why I was here.
"I'm here to speak to the Queen. I wouldn't have made it this far without an invitation." I nodded toward Barbara, now silent and unreadable.
A towering man stepped forward. Balding, almost seven feet tall, four hundred pounds of sheer muscle—he looked like he'd swallowed a pro wrestler.
"This true?" he asked Barbara.
"He's here on business. Promises money and services."
"And who is he to make those promises?"
"Negative," she said. "The boy who started out in the colosseum—and killed Black Mask."
A ripple of whispers moved through the hall.
My brows lifted beneath my helmet.
They were really leaning into this monarchy thing.
"He's a butcher," the guard growled. "Guilty and unworthy. He shouldn't see her."
"This butcher's good enough that Barbara brought me up here without any escort," I said calmly. "You questioning her judgment?"
The big man looked down at me, then stepped aside. "The Queen is meeting Gotham's biggest players."
"So I've heard."
He grinned. "Then it's your funeral."
More threats. Great.
I swallowed hard and followed as the guards parted, leading me up the main stairwell, down a long corridor, and to another massive door. Thicker. Darker. Decorated.
Vines wriggled around it, and just as I reached out, the doors swung inward.
I gasped.
Tech perfectly married to plant life. Screens overtaken by vines. Chandeliers spun from blooming flowers. A raised dais sat at the back, where a throne was carved from a majestic dead tree stump.
Ivy sat atop it in a short green dress, draped in hanging jewelry. Her hair was regal, her presence magnetic.
Below her, a massive round table.
Dozens of men.
Familiar faces.
I'd seen them on the news, read about them in reports. They were powerful, dangerous, and they were all staring at me with a mix of surprise, irritation, and something bordering anger.
"Who's the kid?" a gruff voice demanded.