Kathryn's enthusiasm left Thea momentarily overwhelmed. After testing a few small commands, the results were impressive.
Thea had no interest in indulging in twisted fantasies like a master-servant contract. Instead, she opted for a gentler "friendship contract." Modern people, especially in a place like America where independence and freedom reign, tend to resist notions of servitude. Forcing such a dynamic could create psychological shadows, projecting into daily life and exposing flaws—something that wouldn't serve Thea's long-term plans.
The friendship contract preserved Kathryn's full mental faculties. Aside from extreme commands like ordering her to die, all other instructions would be followed. Even experts in hypnosis wouldn't detect anything unusual without an extensive memory probe.
Over the next two days, Thea repeated the process, brainwashing another key figure in the Court of Owls: Luigi Falcone, the current head of the Falcone crime family, one of Gotham's most notorious criminal dynasties.
His uncle, Mario Falcone, had died at the hands of Gordon years ago, just before taking over the family business. Although Luigi was secretly pleased, he still publicly clamored for 'Gordon' to pay in blood. He'd been repeating this refrain for twenty years, so much so that he'd started to believe it himself.
Using the pretext of discussing future matters, Kathryn lured Luigi to her residence. Thea, uninterested in subtle dream manipulation, knocked him out with a swift strike to the back of the neck and proceeded with the mind control.
Thea's preparation wasn't wasted. Luigi, seasoned by years in the underworld, had significantly stronger mental resistance than Kathryn. However, after two days of relentless effort, Thea finally brought this representative of Gotham's criminal element within the Court under her control.
Seeing the bald, age-spotted, yet imposing old man bow before her gave Thea a sense of accomplishment.
Kathryn Monroe represented Gotham's old aristocracy, the city's founding elite, and could influence the court's direction to an extent.
Luigi Falcone, a godfather-like figure in the underworld, wielded significant sway over Gotham's other major crime families.
Together, they represented the radical and conservative factions within the Court. Thea had no intention of making them allies—whatever their dynamic was before, it would stay that way. As long as they kept funneling resources to her, their task was complete.
Both reported directly to Thea. If one betrayed her, the other could hold them in check until further orders arrived.
"Every month, I need you to transfer 3% of the Court's cash flow into my secret account," Thea said, glancing at her two subordinates. Seeing no objections, she continued.
"Also, instruct the various families within the Court to collect all books related to the mystical or occult. The older, the better. I want the originals."
The monthly percentage seemed small, but it was a staggering sum when drawn from dozens of powerful families. For Thea, who was strapped for resources, this was a game-changer.
The same applied to the books. Having Thea collect them herself would be an impossible task. Many of these families had lineages stretching back hundreds of years; who knew what ancestral notes or books might have survived? Rather than letting them gather dust in their possession, it was better to hand them over to her to put them to good use.
Finally, she requested various human experimentation data and reports on resurrection.
"Impressive," Thea murmured as she flipped through the documents, genuinely admiring the court's research.
They had begun researching resurrection fifty years ago, instigated, no doubt, by the fears of aging nobles desperate to cheat death.
However, it wasn't until twenty years ago that they'd made progress. They used cells from several animals with strong self-repair capabilities, blending them into a completely new substance. Then, using principles of radiation, they implanted it into the deceased's DNA sequence.
The process that followed involved a barrage of electrocution, burning, and freezing to activate the cells' self-repair capabilities, ultimately reviving the deceased.
However, despite the promising experimental results, the clinical outcomes were far from encouraging.
Several Court leaders nearing the end of their lifespans underwent the experiment, but all failed without exception.
After extensive comparisons, the conclusion was clear: it didn't work for natural deaths, only offering a slim chance with unnatural ones.
"A ten percent success rate?" Thea chuckled as she read the final report. Fifty years of research, and countless resources poured down the drain, all for a mere one-in-ten chance?
Tossing the unreliable document aside, Thea picked up a small vial containing three drops of grayish-white, nearly transparent liquid.
"Solomon Grundy's heart blood!" This discovery was an unexpected boon for Thea. She hadn't realized the Court was also interested in the giant zombie.
They'd tracked down Grundy when he surfaced, conducting simulated control tests while tirelessly extracting these three drops of near-transparent blood from his heart over fifteen days.
To an ordinary person, this blood might seem strange, defying common sense.
But for Thea, walking the path of the supernatural, "shocking" was the only word to describe it. The power contained within these few drops was immense. Just briefly sensing it almost injured her.
It radiated decay and corrosion, a force steeped in darkness—not something aligned with justice or life.
Thea felt a flicker of relief. Her instincts warned her against absorbing it—doing so could turn her into a zombie at best or kill her outright at worst. This wasn't a power meant for the living.
Still, not absorbing it didn't mean returning it to the court. It could still serve a purpose. While it was useless for the living, it might work with inanimate objects.
Thea gazed at the Sword of Azrael in her hand. This sharp blade's ability to be brought into the trial grounds indicated its extraordinary nature. As she analyzed the dagger, she confirmed the sword was originally forged as a magical weapon, but for some reason, the crucial final step was never completed.
The inscriptions were missing, and the magical circuits hadn't been etched. The sword was destined to remain a half-finished relic—until now. With Grundy's blood, Thea saw a chance to finish the job.
But it would require time and knowledge she didn't have yet. Her stay in Gotham was growing shorter, so the magic weapon project would have to wait. She instructed her subordinates to lay low and, if Bruce ever ran for GCPD Commissioner, they were to fully support him, tying him up in the endless fundraisers, banquets, and political squabbles of high society.
The Court's primary task was to take over the various criminal territories in the city, whether controlled by the Penguin or Scarecrow—seize them all. Naturally, the public-facing leaders couldn't be court appointees. The Court would maintain its usual approach, pulling strings from a distance, neither detaching completely nor becoming too overtly involved.
As for their relentless resurrection experiments, Thea considered stopping them but decided against it. After decades of effort, they'd finally made some progress. Let them keep at it.