Selina stood at the edge of 47's private balcony, watching the sleek hover-cars glide silently between the towering structures that stretched impossibly high into the sky. The buildings here weren't just tall—they were massive, some easily a mile wide and just as high, their surfaces gleaming with integrated green spaces that pteaued up their sides like stair steps. Everything was clean, everything worked, and everyone looked healthy and content.

  It still amazed her, even after several trips to 47's Gotham. No one sleeping in doorways, no one digging through trash for scraps, no boarded-up buildings or broken streetlights. This Gotham was everything her world wasn't.

  "Selina," 47 called from inside the mansion's command center, pulling her attention away from the view. She walked back through the floor-to-ceiling gss balcony door into the expansive room where holographic dispys flickered with data streams from across the city.

  47 stood talking to Alfred's projection, the older man's image crisp and clear despite being broadcast from City Hall downtown. Alfred looked every bit the efficient administrator he was, his hair perfectly styled and his suit immacute.

  "How are our new arrivals settling in?" 47 asked, his cape draped over the back of his chair.

  "Quite well, sir," Alfred replied with a slight smile. "The integration systems are functioning optimally. All forty-three individuals have received full medical and psychological evaluations. We're providing housing, education, and job pcement services as needed. Several have already expressed interest in becoming citizens of Gotham-x."

  "And what about Volkov? How's that going?"

  Alfred's expression grew more serious. "Yes, we got as much information out of him as possible with the truth serum and the brain scans. The information about his connections and his businesses has been sent to Ms. Selina's computer servers."

  Selina listened as 47 nodded approvingly. She'd seen this process before—his governance didn't just rescue people, it actually helped them rebuild their lives. Another thing her universe's Gotham could not manage.

  "Are you ready to head back?" 47 asked, turning to her.

  "By the way," Alfred interjected before she could answer. "Ms. Selina, you should have all the information you need on your device now."

  Selina reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone—not the cheap, cracked thing she'd had in her old life, but a sleek piece of tech that 47 had given her. It connected seamlessly between universes, somehow. The screen lit up with files, schematics, and coordinates for their next operation.

  "I'll see you soon, sir," Alfred said as his projection flickered out.

  Minutes ter, they stepped through the shimmering portal back into her Gotham, the air immediately feeling heavier, grittier. The warehouse they used as their base was a stark contrast to 47's pristine command center, but it was functional.

  Selina made her way to the bank of computers they'd set up, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she pulled up the files 47's team had sent. Maria's case information poputed across multiple screens, but when the photograph of her missing daughter appeared, Selina's breath caught.

  Fiery reddish blonde hair, bright eyes, that same gap-toothed smile she remembered.

  "That looks just like Tammy," she said, staring at the image.

  47 moved to stand behind her, studying the photo over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

  "Remember Marcus's gang? Yeah, one of the girls who was there—I saw her briefly. She was there for maybe a month, then she was one of the girls who disappeared." Selina tapped the screen with her finger. "She looks exactly like her."

  "Interesting," 47 said, his voice taking on that focused tone she knew meant his mind was already working through possibilities. "What can you tell me about her?"

  Selina leaned back in her chair, pulling up memories she'd tried to forget. "Well, all I know is that among all the other stuff Marcus had us doing, certain girls would be sent somewhere else. We think they were bought by someone who was interested in them, because Marcus always had an eye for the pretty ones." She gestured at the photo. "And she was definitely one of them."

  ---

  The early morning light filtered through the threadbare curtains, casting long shadows across the small bedroom. Carrie y curled naked against Tim's side, her red spiky hair mussed from their lovemaking as she traced zy circles on his skin with her fingertip. The sheets were still tangled around their legs from their early morning passion, and the room carried that warm, intimate scent of bodies that had found comfort in each other.

  Tim's heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, a reassuring rhythm that made her feel grounded in a city that brought out the good and bad in people. She loved these quiet moments before the world demanded they put their armor back on—him with his lesson pns and patience for unruly teenagers, her with her camera and cynicism.

  "I got a new client yesterday," she murmured against his chest, her tone rexed.

  His hand moved to stroke her hair, fingers threading through the messy strands. "Yeah? Good paying?"

  "That's the problem." Carrie shifted slightly, lifting her head to look at him. Even in the dim morning light, Tim's eyes were kind, understanding. "Double my usual rate. And he paid half up front, cash."

  Tim's eyebrows raised slightly. "In Gotham, when something sounds too good to be true..."

  "It usually is." She settled back against him. "I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. This city's taught me that much."

  "What's he want you to investigate?"

  Carrie's fingers stilled on his chest. "There's someone new in the underground scene. Either taking over the criminal organizations or shutting them down—nobody knows which. Client wants me to figure out who this person is and what their endgame is."

  Tim was quiet for a moment, processing. "Have you actually met this guy? Your client?"

  "No. Just a voice over the phone. Moduted, professional. Could be anyone." She sighed, pressing her face closer to his neck. "But the money, Tim. We could actually get ahead for once instead of just scraping by."

  "So you're going through with the investigation?"

  "Yeah. I have to." Her voice carried that familiar edge of resignation that came from too many compromises made for survival's sake.

  Tim's arms tightened around her. "The police are interested in this too, from what I've been hearing on the news. Very interested."

  Carrie let out a bitter ugh. "Of course they are. The GCPD only cares when something threatens the upper css money flow. Some mysterious figure starts messing with the criminal ecosystem, and suddenly it's all hands on deck." She lifted her head again, meeting his eyes. "But that's what's got me thinking—whoever this is, they must be interfering with someone important's bottom line."

  The cynicism in her voice was sharp, honed by years of watching Gotham's power structures protect themselves while leaving everyone else to fend for themselves. Tim nodded, understanding how the system worked. They'd had this conversation before, in different variations.

  "Am I wrong for taking this case?" The question came out quieter than she'd intended, vulnerable. "I feel like this client is up to something, and I'm just... pying into whatever game he's running."

  Tim's hand traced down along her back, gentle and reassuring. "Honey, there's always an angle in this city. Everyone's got one. But I trust you—when you feel like something goes against your principles, we can talk about it. We'll figure out the best thing to do."

  Something loosened in her chest at his words. This was why she loved him, why coming home to this small apartment felt like sanctuary. Tim didn't try to fix everything or tell her what to do. He just... listened. Understood. Stood by her while she figured out her own path through Gotham's moral wastend.

  Carrie shifted, moving to straddle him, her hands bracing against his chest as she looked down at him. "That's why I love you," she said, leaning down to kiss him softly.

  Tim's hands settled on her hips, but there was something practical in his expression even as he smiled up at her. "Okay, but we need to get up. Take a shower, have breakfast. You've got work, I've got work." His grin turned slightly wicked. "Because if you keep talking to me like that, we're going to go for round two."

  Carrie kissed him again, deeper this time, tasting the promise in his words. "I wouldn't have a problem with that," she murmured against his lips, feeling some of the doubts about her mysterious client fade into the background.