Cp, cp, cp...

  Vicky’s appuse echoed in the empty space, her delicate face turning as red as her fiery hair. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her excitement palpable.

  “Bravo, Mr. Deathstroke, you’re the most formidable warrior I’ve ever seen.”

  Su Ming slung the shotgun back over his shoulder. Taking down that mechanical dinosaur hadn’t been too taxing, and the small injuries he’d sustained earlier had already healed with the help of his regenerative abilities, leaving no trace of pain.

  “Even if you beg for an encore, I won’t be returning for you. Hurry up with your little show. Once we have the intel, we’re leaving.”

  Dealing with this woman was a hassle. She’d bring up endless questions and requests if he let her, but all Su Ming wanted was to make use of her good luck to achieve his goal. He didn’t want to get tangled up with her any further than necessary.

  “Oh, fine,” Vicky grumbled, though her eyes gleamed with curiosity. “But can I keep a piece of the dinosaur as a souvenir?”

  Su Ming turned, making his way toward Barbara and the others. Given the Oracle's skill, the decryption should be nearly done.

  “Do whatever you want. But if you think that once we’re at the Batcave, you’ll be able to dig up Batgirl’s identity from the supplier’s files, you can forget it. She’s not that naive.”

  “Hmph…”

  Vicky stomped her foot, though she didn’t really understand why her thoughts were so easily seen through. But she was a reporter. Who cared about face?

  In her high heels and tight skirt, she jogged—more of a saunter, really—over to the dinosaur wreckage, pulling out one of its massive eyeballs. Then, with deft fingers, she reached into the gap in its skull and yanked out a segment of wire still connected to the internal systems.

  Su Ming couldn’t be bothered to stop her. Vicky’s curiosity had long since crossed the line into obsession. It was almost pathological, but she knew when to respect boundaries.

  She was clever, too—she’d probably already figured out that neither he nor Deathstroke had any intention of killing them.

  He reached the back of Barbara’s wheelchair and looked up at the rge screen, where rows of characters fshed by, their glow lighting up the faces of the three. He still didn’t understand how the progress was coming along.

  “The dinosaur’s down. How’s it going over here?”

  “Almost there…” Barbara didn’t even look up, her fingers dancing over the keyboard, inputting something into the console. “Open sesame.”

  The screen flickered, revealing a new set of images—a bird’s-eye view of Gotham. Su Ming immediately recognized it as the perspective from a hidden camera pced on the roof of Wayne Tower, from which Miller's spatial computing abilities had likely sourced the data.

  But that wasn’t all. The Bat’s database was always linked to multiple major departments. The data here would sync across to all their networks.

  “She’s monitoring the whole city…”

  Barbara murmured, her eyes wide as she took in the images fshing across the screen. With each new system command she familiarized herself with, she realized just how pervasive Batgirl’s surveilnce had become.

  She understood Batgirl’s intentions, but couldn’t grasp why she’d go to such lengths. With so many private cameras hidden in pin sight, nothing in Gotham was truly secret from her.

  From the vish private dining rooms to the dipidated underpasses where the homeless took refuge, every corner of the city was under surveilnce. It felt as if everyone was being treated as a potential criminal. There were even cameras trained on Commissioner Gordon’s home.

  Su Ming pced a hand gently on Barbara’s head, snapping her back to reality. “Welcome to the Dark Knight's inner world. Yeah, she’s exactly what you think she is.”

  “This is insane,” Barbara whispered, her brows furrowed. “I don’t know… is this really a good thing? She’s vioting everyone’s privacy, whether they’re criminals or not.”

  Barbara couldn’t wrap her head around it. She’d always believed Batgirl to be someone like her—someone with good intentions toward the world.

  But when she thought about it, it made sense. Batgirl never appeared in the daytime, because her world was built entirely in darkness.

  “For the Bat, the citizens of Gotham fall into two categories: 'already a criminal' or 'not yet a criminal.' She trusts no one.”

  Cindy’s voice sliced through the tension, dripping with disdain. She didn’t like the Bat’s style—strictly speaking, the Bat’s indiscriminate killing didn’t even believe in contracts. She thought she was a better fit for society, herself.

  “Even my father? He’s always supported her.” Barbara’s voice shook, unable to accept the truth. She clutched the armrests of her wheelchair, her gaze distant.

  “Even your father.” Su Ming sighed. The Batgirl of the Dark Multiverse was even darker than the Batman of the main universe. He tried to comfort her. “To Batgirl, your father is simply someone who’s unlikely to be a criminal, a low-threat target. She considers him a friend, but her idea of friendship isn’t quite like yours. Batgirl always keeps something in reserve—just in case.”

  Barbara stared bnkly ahead, her mind churning. She wasn’t sure what she was thinking anymore, but compared to Batgirl, Deathstroke was a world-renowned vilin, the very embodiment of bloodshed.

  “No, that’s just your guess.”

  “Maybe,” Su Ming replied. “But I’ve heard something you might want to hear too.”

  Cindy, having witnessed the power of the network, saw that Barbara couldn’t be allowed to side with the Bat. She immediately cut in.

  Barbara turned toward her, her gaze sharp, but there was a certain curiosity there. The computer screen had already shown Barbara the kind of person Batgirl was, but she wasn’t ready to accept it.

  Cindy leaned back in her chair, picking up her helmet and setting it on the console. “It’s about what happened after your incident. Gordon and Batgirl caught a criminal, and Gordon raised his gun at him. But Batgirl—she blocked the barrel with her own body.”

  “What does that prove? Batgirl and the criminal had a thing?” Barbara’s voice trembled, her body shuddering at the mention of the criminal’s name, like a frightened rabbit.

  “If I’d been there instead of the Bat, or if Su had, we wouldn’t have blocked the gun.”

  Cindy leaned forward, gripping the armrest of Barbara’s wheelchair, pulling it slightly toward her. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto Barbara’s, the fear in Barbara’s gaze shifting to reflection.

  “That’s because you don’t care about the w.” Barbara jerked her head away from Cindy, her slender fingers sliding away from the keyboard and folding over her chest, as though a chill had overtaken her.

  “That’s because I know Gordon wouldn’t have fired!”

  Cindy gripped her face, turning her head back toward her. “I’ve memorized Gordon’s record, just like Batgirl has. We both know who he is, what makes him tick. His emotions don’t make him lose control. Gordon does what a cop is supposed to do. But Batgirl? You think she blocked that gun because she trusts Gordon?”

  Barbara had no answer. She didn’t know the exact circumstances at the time, but when she woke up in the hospital, Gordon had been despondent, telling her that first, he was a cop, and only then, her father.

  He’d cried as he apologized, but at the time, Barbara had only assumed he was grieving her injury.

  Now, knowing the truth, Barbara finally understood: his decision to spare the criminal wasn’t influenced by Batgirl at all. It was Gordon’s choice alone.

  Gordon’s despair wasn’t just about her—it was because he realized Batgirl would never trust anyone.

  After over thirty years as a cop in Gotham, working with Batgirl for more than a decade, she still couldn’t trust him. Even though he believed he’d kept her secret safe, it was only because she allowed him to know what she wanted him to know.

  Batgirl always had her own pn.