The editing room hummed with the quiet whir of equipment as Jarvis hunched over the console, his fingers dancing across the controls. Multiple screens dispyed various angles of the video he'd just finished filming, the blue-tinted light casting shadows across his angur face. His dark hair fell across his forehead as he made precise cuts, lost in the technical artistry that few people understood the way he did.

  Alice perched on the edge of the leather chair beside him, her pale blue dress spread carefully around her legs. She watched his profile with adoring eyes, waiting for the right moment to share her news.

  "The nanny and the little girl would be good candidates for Volkov and the business," Alice said, her voice carrying that sweet, musical quality that had first captured his attention. "I got their address when I dropped them off. The nanny—her name is Rebecca—seems like she'd be perfect for the sweatshop operations. And the little girl, Emma, she's got that innocent look you're always looking for."

  Jarvis paused in his editing, a slow smile spreading across his face as he turned to look at her. "Alice, my dear, you continue to amaze me. Your instincts for finding the right people are simply..." He reached over and stroked her cheek. "Exceptional."

  Alice practically glowed under his praise, leaning into his touch. "I knew you'd be pleased. Rebecca looked like she could be easily led, and Emma was so cute. They'll both be easy to manage when the time comes."

  In the background, Janitor J moved quietly around the set with his mop and bucket, carefully cleaning around the props and equipment. His green overalls hung loosely on his tall, skinny frame as he worked methodically, humming softly to himself. The cssroom set still needed to be broken down—fake desks, a chalkboard, various educational props scattered about.

  As he maneuvered around a particurly awkward arrangement of desks, his mop bucket caught on a leg, sending a wooden ruler and several textbooks cttering to the floor.

  Jarvis's head snapped up, his expression immediately darkening. "Hey, smiling retard! Be more careful. These props aren't cheap, and I don't have funding for your clumsiness."

  Alice watched as Mr. J's face flushed red while he quickly bent to gather the scattered items. "Sorry, Mr. Tetch. Sorry, sorry."

  "You should be sorry," Jarvis continued, his voice taking on that condescending tone Alice had heard him use with the girls who disappointed him. "You're lucky I'm goodhearted enough to hire someone like you. Most people like you would normally be put down or stuck in some institution somewhere."

  Janitor J nodded frantically, clutching the props to his chest. "Sorry, Mr. Tetch. I'll do better."

  "See that you do, retard," Jarvis said dismissively, then turned back to Alice with that warm smile returning to his face like a switch had been flipped. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, your excellent work today."

  Alice settled back into her chair, basking in his attention. She loved seeing how effortlessly he could command respect, how people understood their pce around him. "I'm just happy I could help expand the business."

  Jarvis nodded, turning back to his screens as he spoke. "I'm thinking about having Tammy do a scene with Harley soon. Maybe something different for both of them."

  Alice's smile faltered slightly. "What do you mean?"

  "Maybe a girl-on-girl scene," Jarvis said casually, adjusting the color bance on one of the monitors. "People respond well to that content, and it would be something new for Tammy."

  Alice forced her expression back to pleasant neutrality. "That sounds... like a good idea. Harley is so popur in the industry now, it could really boost her ratings even more."

  "Exactly," Jarvis said, clearly pleased with the idea. "And I'm thinking of moving little Tammy up to the fourth floor permanently. That way she'll always be avaible when we need her for scenes."

  Alice's hands tightened imperceptibly in her p, but her voice remained steady. "The fourth floor? That's... convenient."

  The jealousy was already burning in her chest, the thought of Tammy being so close to her Jarvis all the time making her stomach twist. But Alice had learned long ago to keep her darker thoughts to herself. Jarvis appreciated initiative, but he didn't like jealousy or drama.

  "Yes, very convenient," she agreed, that sweet smile never leaving her face even as her mind began working through possibilities. There were so many ways accidents could happen. So many ways a girl might find herself in trouble.

  "I'm so proud of you, Alice," Jarvis said warmly, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Your contributions today will help Hatter's Productions grow in exactly the right direction."

  Alice squeezed back, her smile widening genuinely at his praise. "I just want to help you succeed, Jarvis. In every way I can."

  As Janitor J continued his quiet cleaning in the background and Jarvis returned to his editing, Alice sat in the blue glow of the monitors, already pnning how to ensure that Tammy's stay on the fourth floor would be shorter than anyone expected.

  ---

  Selina sat in front of sleek monitors, their crisp dispys casting light across her face as data feeds and video clips scrolled down the high-resolution screens. The warehouse around her was a study in controlled chaos—exposed brick walls lined with state-of-the-art server towers, fiber optic cables snaking across the concrete floor in organized bundles, and the quiet hum of advanced cooling systems mixing with the distant rumble of Gotham's traffic. The computer equipment was the best Gotham's bck market could offer—not quite matching 47's interdimensional tech, but leagues ahead of anything she'd ever had access to.

  Her fingers danced across three different keyboards simultaneously, running facial recognition programs through every video feed she could hack into. Security cameras from convenience stores, traffic monitors, even grainy footage from ATM machines—anything that might catch a glimpse of Tammy's distinctive reddish-blonde hair and smile. The girl's image was centered in a monitor window, a constant reminder of who they were searching for.

  Under her feet, she could feel the vibrations of construction drones as 47 operated them from his own control station. The underground expansion was coming along faster than she'd expected—his technology made everything seem effortless in a way that still amazed her. Where her Gotham struggled with basic infrastructure, he could literally build a new base beneath their feet.

  But right now, none of that mattered as much as the conversation he had been avoiding for weeks.

  Selina turned in her chair, the leather creaking softly as she faced him. "So, 47, since we finally have some time, can we talk?"

  He didn't look up from his holographic dispys immediately, but she caught the slight tension in his shoulders. He knew what was coming—she'd been building up to this for days, and they both knew it couldn't be put off much longer.

  "Yes," he said finally, his gloved hands stilling on the controls as he turned to meet her gaze.

  "This is about me wanting to do more than just tech support." The words came out in a rush, like she'd been holding them back too long.

  "I know," 47 said simply.

  "So what's your problem? I know you're still learning about this Gotham, and I know you know I've been on my own since I was ten. I can handle myself, so is this hard for you because you're not used to working with someone young like me? I guess your automatic response is to protect me."

  Selina felt her cheeks flush as she spoke, frustration bleeding through despite her attempts to stay calm. She'd practiced this conversation in her head a dozen times, but actually saying it out loud made her feel more vulnerable than she'd expected.

  47 was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes studying her face. Even without the mask, there was something intimidating about his presence, but she'd learned to read the subtle shifts in his expression. Right now, he looked thoughtful rather than dismissive.

  "Yes, you are young," he said finally. "But I can see you can take care of yourself. You've been on the streets, so you know how things work, and you could help me more than just being tech support."

  "Exactly," Selina said, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

  "So how would you want to do this, 47? How about you let me be out in the field with you, and we see how it goes?"

  47 leaned back in his chair, and she could practically see him weighing the possibilities. "Can you fight?"

  Selina's confidence wavered slightly. "Well, maybe not as well as you, but—"

  "That's going to be a problem," 47 interrupted, though his tone wasn't harsh. "We need to get you some training, so just in case I'm not around, you need to be able to protect yourself. You need to do more than just swing a crowbar."

  Heat rose in her cheeks again, this time from embarrassment rather than frustration. "Okay, you've got a point."

  "How about this," 47 continued, his voice taking on that pnning tone she'd come to recognize. "Let me figure out the best way to set up a training regimen for you, and then we'll do this step by step. You're right—you can help more than just being tech support. You know this Gotham better than I do. But I'm still reluctant because this is new to me, especially dealing with someone as young and uniquely skilled as you."

  Selina nodded slowly. It wasn't everything she'd wanted to hear, but it was progress. "Okay, as long as you're willing to give me a chance and we can set something up, I'm good with that."

  "Thank you," 47 said, and there was genuine relief in his voice.

  Before she could respond, a sharp ping echoed through the warehouse from one of her computers. Selina spun back around in her chair, her heart jumping as she saw what had triggered the alert. There, captured in archived security footage from what looked like a restaurant, was Tammy—unmistakable despite the grainy quality.

  "47," Selina called, her voice tight with excitement. "I think we've got something."

  She heard his chair scrape against the concrete as he moved, and then he was standing behind her, leaning over to get a better look at the screen. The footage was timestamped from six months ago, and Tammy appeared to be sitting at a table with an older man whose face was partially obscured by the camera angle.

  "That's her," Selina said, pointing at the screen. "That's definitely Tammy."

  47's hand rested briefly on the back of her chair, and she could feel the focused intensity radiating off him. "Good work. Where did you find this?"

  Selina pulled up the file details on a secondary monitor. "Deep archive search through old security feeds. This is from a diner called Scarface & Wesker's. The timestamp shows it was recorded six months ago. The system fgged it during the facial recognition sweep."

  47 was silent for a moment, processing. "Can you get a better look at who she's with?"

  Selina enhanced the image as much as the resolution would allow, but the man's face remained frustratingly unclear. What she could see, though, made her stomach tighten with familiar dread. There was something in his posture, the way he leaned toward Tammy, that reminded her of too many predators she'd encountered on Gotham's streets.

  "I can't make out his face clearly, but..." She trailed off, studying the body nguage in the frozen frame. "This has to be from after Marcus said she ran away. She looks so lost here."

  47 straightened up. "This could be our first lead to how she ended up missing. Can you cross-reference this location with any other missing persons cases from around that time?"

  "Already running," Selina said, feeling that familiar rush of purpose as her programs began pulling up police reports and missing person files from the relevant time period. This was what she was good at, but as she watched 47 begin analyzing the data, she couldn't help but think about their conversation. Soon, she hoped, she'd be doing more than just watching from behind a screen.