Catwoman didn't answer Lex with words.
She answered with vengeance.
In broad daylight, Two-Face had ambushed her, shot her off her bike, and left her bleeding in the street. He'd also made off with one of the last operational Batmobiles in Gotham. Gordon's official objective tonight was reconnaissance—mapping newly overrun sectors and checking supply corridors—but that mission had just taken a hard left turn.
This wasn't about intel anymore.
This was personal.
The Humvee idled three hundred meters from the intersection where Lex had pulled Catwoman out of hell the first time. The city block lay in skeletal silence—collapsed storefronts, abandoned sedans rusting into the pavement, wind dragging trash across asphalt like distant whispers.
Lex lifted the night-vision binoculars.
The Batmobile sat exactly where he'd last seen it, angled across a cratered stretch of road. Its matte-black body reflected no light, like a predator pretending to be debris. Within fifty meters, only two shambling infected wandered aimlessly.
Too clean.
Too quiet.
"Feels like a setup," Lex muttered.
From the backseat, Barbara didn't even lower her rifle. "That's because it is."
Two-Face hadn't survived this long by being sloppy. He'd left the car like bait on a hook. Anyone stupid enough to reclaim it without caution deserved the body bag.
Lex glanced toward Catwoman.
Unlike Barbara, who radiated competitive heat, Selina was still—coiled, calculating. She didn't react to the jab. Didn't need to.
John Black leaned forward. "Can you remote it?"
Selina was already working the compact WayneTech controller in her gloved hands. The Batmobile's system could link directly to the Batcomputer—if the receiver wasn't fried.
A beat passed.
Nothing.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
"The receiver's probably shot," she said flatly, tossing the controller aside. "I'll go get it."
Barbara immediately snapped her head around. "By yourself?"
"This part's mine," Selina replied. "Not Gordon's mission. Not yours."
"You expect us to sit here while you get killed?"
Selina's lips curved faintly. "If I die, that's on me."
Barbara pushed the door open hard enough to rattle the frame. "If you die, my dad will kill me. So no, that's not happening."
She hopped out, rifle already slung and ready.
Lex hid a smirk.
Sharp tongue. Soft center.
Selina noticed too—but said nothing. That silence irritated Barbara more than any comeback ever could.
Selina's eyes shifted to Lex. "And you?"
Lex shrugged. "Can't let a teenager show me up."
John exhaled sharply through his nose, knuckles whitening around the steering wheel. "Drive in. Grab it. Leave. Fast."
Simple.
They all knew it wouldn't be.
"Let's move," Lex said.
The Humvee roared forward.
A lone infected stumbled into the headlights.
Impact.
The body spun off the hood like a rag doll.
John handled the wheel cleanly—sharp drift, tires screeching, the vehicle sliding sideways into position beside the Batmobile.
Before the Humvee fully stopped, Selina was already moving.
Door open.
Leap.
Land.
She didn't rush to mount the vehicle. Instead, she circled it once, slow and deliberate. Checked the undercarriage. Wheel wells. Exhaust housing.
No visible explosives.
No wires.
No obvious tampering.
Satisfied, she swung onto the bike and engaged ignition.
The engine coughed once—
Then roared.
And right on cue—
Headlights ignited from the surrounding darkness.
Engines revved.
Gunfire cracked.
Two-Face's convoy burst from behind collapsed buildings and alleyways like hyenas.
A rocket streaked through the night.
It missed the Humvee by less than a meter before detonating in rubble.
The shooter never got a second attempt.
A suppressed crack echoed from the shadows.
Barbara.
The rocket man dropped instantly, half his skull erased.
"Contact!" John barked.
Lex didn't wait.
He shoved the sunroof open, climbed into position, and gripped the M2 heavy machine gun mounted above the Humvee.
Now we're talking.
He squeezed the trigger.
Thunder erupted.
The .50-cal roared like an angry god.
Vehicles shredded under the barrage. Windshields exploded. Engines ruptured. Bodies tore apart under the sheer kinetic brutality of the rounds.
Through the chaos, glowing system prompts flickered in Lex's vision.
Gear dropped.
Weapons.
Ammo.
Fragments of upgraded components.
Harvest time.
These weren't desperate survivors defending themselves.
They were inmates from Blackgate—scavengers who'd chosen to turn Gotham's collapse into their playground. They preyed on civilians. Stole supplies. Left people to die.
Lex felt no hesitation.
No mercy.
"Three o'clock!" John shouted. "Two-Face!"
Lex pivoted the barrel.
Barbara's rifle cracked again, neutralizing a gunman trying to flank.
Lex opened fire on the sedan marked by mismatched armor plating—the kind of ugly improvisation Two-Face favored.
The M2 chewed through it.
Metal warped.
Fuel ignited.
The car detonated.
But at the last second, a figure rolled clear of the blast.
Two-Face.
One side of his suit pristine.
The other scorched and twisted like the city itself.
The M2 sputtered hollow.
Out of ammo.
Didn't matter.
The damage was done.
Without coordination, the convoy collapsed instantly. These weren't soldiers—they were opportunists. When faced with overwhelming force, they scattered like rats.
"Fall back!" Two-Face screamed. "Get back here!"
No one listened.
The Batmobile's engine stabilized into a powerful growl.
Selina turned the machine toward him.
Two-Face drew his pistol and fired wildly.
Bullets sparked uselessly off reinforced plating as she accelerated.
She lifted the front wheel at the last second—
And slammed into him.
The impact knocked him flat.
She circled once.
Then drove straight over his knees.
The crack of bone was audible even over engine noise.
Two-Face screamed—a raw, animal sound.
He had no enhancements. No combat augmentation. Without his mob, he was just a scarred man with a coin and delusions of control.
Selina braked beside him.
For a moment, Lex thought she might finish it.
Instead, she looked down at him—expression unreadable.
"You should've flipped better odds," she said quietly.
Then she turned the bike and rode back toward the Humvee.
Behind them, the noise had drawn attention.
From alleyways.
From shattered buildings.
From sewer grates.
The infected were coming.
Dozens.
Two-Face tried to crawl.
He couldn't.
The first zombie reached him.
Lex didn't look away.
Neither did Selina.
The screaming didn't last long.
John leaned out the window. "Time to go!"
Selina nodded once.
Barbara reloaded smoothly and retreated to the vehicle.
Lex dropped back into the Humvee just as John floored it.
The Batmobile fell into formation beside them like a shadow reclaiming its throne.
As they sped away, Lex glanced in the side mirror.
The infected swarm had fully engulfed the intersection.
No sign of Two-Face remained.
Silence settled inside the Humvee—heavy, electric.
Barbara finally exhaled. "That was reckless."
Selina didn't answer.
John gave a low whistle. "Well. That solves that problem."
Lex leaned back, flexing his fingers. His system interface pulsed faintly—new acquisitions logged.
Heavy ammo replenished.
Armor fragments.
Modified optics.
Tonight had been profitable.
Selina caught his look.
"You enjoyed that."
Lex didn't deny it. "Efficient operation."
Barbara snorted. "You call that efficient?"
"Minimal casualties," he replied calmly. "Objective secured. Hostile eliminated."
Selina's eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary.
"You adapt fast," she said.
Lex met her gaze.
"Survival demands it."
The Batmobile's engine roared beside them, steady and dominant.
Gotham's ruins stretched ahead—block after broken block.
This city didn't reward hesitation.
It devoured weakness.
Tonight, they'd reminded it that predators still walked its streets.
And Lex?
He was beginning to understand something important.
In this new Gotham—
Power wasn't inherited.
It wasn't assigned.
It was taken.
And he intended to take everything.