CHAPTER TWENTY - A CITY DIVIDED

More explosions rocked Gotham just after midnight. One after another, fires erupted across the city—industrial complexes, bridges, and key transit hubs. Smoke rose into the night sky in thick black columns, mingling with the wail of sirens and the distant shouts of panicked civilians.

Taylor crouched on a rooftop near the Narrows, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts, and fists clenched at her sides. Even from this distance, she could feel the heat of the flames licking at the night air.

Her comm crackled to life in her ear.

“Swarm Queen, report,” Robin’s voice came through, clipped.

Taylor swallowed hard. The League had made their move, and now it was up to them to stop things from spiraling further out of control.

“Narrows,” she replied. “The League hit a gas station here. Fire’s spreading, but the locals are trying to contain it.”

“We need to move,” Robin said, turning to her. “There’s another team hitting the financial district.

“We’re getting reports of another explosion near the docks,” Robin said. “Batgirl and Nightwing are en route, and Red Robin’s dealing with the one at the Financial District. If they take out the power grid there, half the city goes dark.” He paused, and hearing his rapid breathing, she realised he was running across the rooftops. “I’ll meet you at the bridge.”

Before she could respond, the comm cut off.

Taylor moved quickly, weaving through the crumbling cityscape as the chaos unfolded around her. Her swarm scouted ahead, though their movements were still jerky and unreliable. But she couldn’t afford to think about that now. The League’s strikes were coordinated, each one calculated to sow maximum destruction while keeping the Bat-family spread thin.

As she approached the bridge, she spotted Robin crouched behind a barricade, his cape draped around him like a shadow.

“Status?” she asked, dropping down beside him.

“Not good,” he said grimly, gesturing to the scene ahead.

The bridge was a battlefield. League operatives moved with deadly haste, setting charges along the bridge’s supports. Civilians were trapped in their cars, too terrified to move as the League worked methodically.

“Five setting charges under the south arch. Another three patrolling the perimeter,” she reported.

“I’ll take the south arch and disable the charges,” Robin replied, already moving. “You handle the perimeter. Keep it clean. No mistakes.”

No mistakes. The words echoed in her head as Taylor exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus, and followed him into the shadows—slipping through the chaos toward the operatives, her baton snapping open in her hand. Robin engaged first, his sword whirling in a blur of motion as he disarmed and incapacitated the nearest attackers.

Staying low as she crept along the bridge, approaching the patrolling operatives, The first one didn’t see her coming. She swung her baton low, striking his knee. He crumpled with a grunt, and she delivered a quick blow to his temple, knocking him out cold.

The second turned, drawing a blade, but Taylor stepped into his swing, using her baton to block and twist the weapon from his grip. Her movements were brutish compared to Robin’s fluidity, but they were effective enough, and that was all that mattered.

As the third operative rounded on her, she reached out instinctively to her swarm, willing it to blind and disorient him. A handful of insects responded, but as she tried to direct them to buzz around his masked head, her connection faltered. Most of the swarm scattered, buzzing aimlessly, and the few that remained went ignored.

“No,” she hissed under her breath, frustration bubbling up as she tried to force her swarm back under control.

The operative took advantage of her distraction and lunged at her, a blade flashing down with a silent swoosh. She barely dodged in time, the blade slicing through the air where she’d just been, and slammed her baton into his ribs. He staggered, but before she could press the advantage, a voice rang out across the bridge.

“Stand down.”

Taylor froze, her baton raised. The voice was commanding in a way that reminded her oddly enough of Robin.

A woman stepped forward, her figure draped in an elegant yet practical dress that screamed wealth and power. Her face was partially obscured by her long, flowing hair, but her presence was unmistakably authoritative and regal—and she moved with a calm, predatory grace, the kind that came from years of training and unshakable confidence.

Her blade glinted in the flickering light, and her piercing eyes locked onto Taylor.

“Swarm Queen,” the woman began, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’ve been a thorn in our side. But your usefulness has come to an end.”

Taylor tightened her grip on her baton, her heart pounding. “If you think I’m going to let you destroy this city, you’re wrong.”

The woman tilted her head, as if amused. “Bold words, but you are out of your depth, child.”

Before Taylor could respond, the woman lunged. Her movements were graceful, almost effortless, as her blade arced toward Taylor.

Taylor raised her baton to block, but the force of the strike rattled her arms, sending her stumbling backwards. The woman was deceptively powerful.

Taylor tried to summon her swarm again, as said woman foolishly wore no protective covering, but like before, her connection faltered. The insects buzzed uselessly, their chaotic movements more of a distraction to her than her opponent.

“You rely on power you can't even control,” the woman said, her strikes coming faster and harder. Taylor struggled to keep up, each block and dodge growing more desperate. “Without it, you’re nothing.”

The words cut deeper than Taylor wanted to admit, but she did her best to ignore the feelings it elicited. She swung her baton in a wide arc, trying to create distance, but the woman easily sidestepped and closed the gap.

A brutal heeled kick to Taylor’s stomach sent her sprawling to the ground, her baton skittering out of reach. She gasped for breath, her vision swimming as the woman stood over her.

“This is your end,” the woman said, blade poised for the killing blow.

However, before the strike could land, a flash of black and yellow intercepted the blade.

Robin.

His sword clashed with Talia’s, the metallic sound ringing like a bell out across the bridge. He moved with a ferocity Taylor hadn’t seen before, driving the woman back with a series of rapid strikes.

“Get up!” Robin shouted over his shoulder, his voice harsh.

Taylor scrambled to her feet, her mind racing. Her control was still dodgy, but—Come on. Not now—she forced what little strength she had into it, directing a small group of insects to swarm the woman. It obviously wasn’t much, but it was enough to disrupt her rhythm, giving Robin the opening he needed.

He swept her legs out from under her and pinned her blade to the ground with his boot. The woman was able to roll to her feet, but she was bereft of her weapon and could only glare at him.

The woman retreated into the shadows with a final, cutting remark. “You delay the inevitable. Gotham will fall.”

Robin didn’t follow. Instead, he turned to Taylor, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, though her hands were shaking out of anger and frustration, her grip tightening and loosening instinctively, trying to ground herself. “Yeah. Thanks for… stepping in,” she muttered, barely able to meet his gaze.

His eyes lingered on her for a moment, before he turned his attention to the disabled charges. “You need to control your emotions,” he said bluntly. “Out here, hesitation gets you killed.”

Taylor looked away, jaw tightening. She wanted to snap back, to tell him she wasn’t hesitating—she was fighting a battle on two fronts, against enemies and her shitty control. But she bit her tongue, the weight of her frustration simmering under the surface.

Robin sighed. “Let’s go. We need to regroup.”