CHAPTER FIFTEEN - STRAIGHT HANDS

The first explosion hit just after dusk. The sound reverberated across Gotham, a deep, guttural roar that swallowed the hum of the city and rattled the soles of Taylor’s boots, her mind immediately racing to piece together what could have caused it. It didn’t take long to find the answer from her perch on a rooftop: a plume of thick smoke curling upward in the distance, darkening the sky like an omen.

Robin’s voice crackled over her comm. “East End. Looks bad. You see it?”

“I see it,” Taylor replied, already moving. Her swarm fanned out ahead of her, scouting as she leaped from one rooftop to the next, her footsteps near silent. In the streets below, pandemonium reigned—cars screeched to a halt, people ran in all directions, and the wail of sirens pierced the air.

As Taylor reached the edge of the East End, the extent of the destruction came into view. A tenement building had collapsed entirely, its skeletal remains jutting upward like broken ribs. Fires licked at the debris, and the acrid smell of burning materials stung her nose.

Robin arrived moments later, dropping down beside her. His face was grim beneath his domino mask. “This wasn’t just a bomb. Look at the precision.”

Taylor nodded. The blast radius was unnervingly precise—too calculated to be an accident or a run-of-the-mill Gotham crime. Among the debris, she noticed strange scorch marks on the pavement, circular and intricate, as though etched by something unnatural.

“It’s surgical,” she said. “Whoever did this didn’t just want destruction—they wanted to send a message.”

Robin crouched beside a fragment of debris, pulling out a small scanner from his utility belt. The device beeped as he passed it over a twisted hunk of steel. “Residual energy readings. Definitely not conventional explosives. This is tech—high-level, experimental.”

“League of Assassins?” Taylor asked, her mind racing back to their earlier investigation.

Robin frowned. “Fits their MO. They’ve been moving something big through Gotham. But this… this feels personal.”

Before either could say more, another explosion tore through the night, this time closer—two blocks away. The shockwave sent a plume of dust and ash into the air, and Taylor staggered as the force hit her.

“We need to move,” Robin said, already darting toward the source.

Taylor followed, her swarm spreading out in all directions, searching for signs of life or movement. As they approached the site, she spotted figures moving in the smoke—League operatives, most likely, clad in dark hoods and armed with curved blades.

“Ra’s,” Robin muttered, his tone laced with anger.

Taylor nodded, her heart pounding. “He’s testing something. And Gotham’s the proving ground.”

The two moved in tandem, slipping into the shadows as they closed the distance. Robin swept in with ease, disarming and incapacitating them before they could recover, and Taylor’s swarm descended on the operatives—though their masks and body armour prevented them from being stung and discipline kept their weapons in hand.

It seemed Taylor’s powers would be a non-factor. Fuck.

As she took the opportunity to dart forward, her baton striking with speed and power to incapacitate one operative after another, a shadow moved in her peripheral vision. She barely had time to react before a figure dropped down in front of her—more distinctively dressed than the others, so likely the leader—twin blades gleaming in the dim light.

The operative moved with deadly grace, his strikes arcing through the air towards her, but a minute rotation allowed her to bring up her baton to bear the brunt of the attack. Using its transferred force, she rolled over her back and then to her feet, though she was a bit unsteady.

He cleared the distance between them again and swung his right blade in a brutal arc, and though Taylor stepped out of the way, she wasn't about to retaliate yet.

A trade of blows was the last thing anyone should do against a larger opponent, the reason being that their hands had far greater reach and attacks would land with much more force. Weight divisions existed in combat sports for a good reason.

Taylor was neither the fastest nor strongest and using her power was out for obvious reasons. She couldn't afford to fight fair. She had to be mean, and ensure she kept low during the fight to throw off the man’s center of gravity. That, at least, would tip the scales in her favour.

“You fight well,” the man said. There was no emotion, only a cold detachment that hinted at years of training and an unshakable confidence. “But we came prepared for your interference, Swarm Queen.”

The operative swung his other blade and caught nothing but air as Taylor danced back, before circling the man, occasionally feigning a lunge to test his reaction while searching for the right time to strike.

It was unfortunate, then, that said operative didn't provide such an opportunity. He continued his assault, flowing through different fighting styles seamlessly. He would strike hard, putting his weight in behind every attack, forcing Taylor to try to slip the blows and close the gap.

Once that was accomplished, however, he would swap his style, using knees, elbows, and feigned slashes to force her to retreat out of range once again. Then, he would try overwhelming again, sending fierce flurries with blinding speed in, forcing Taylor onto the defensive.

It was a bit maddening for a guy built that big to be faster than her, lean, and nimble, but one thought was clear: she needed to end this.

Taylor took a careful step forward, knowing full well the operative’s eyes missed nothing as she closed the distance between them. Yet the man waited till she was almost upon him before attacking, ducking and bending slightly to the side to stab at her.

Even as Taylor twisted to avoid the blow, she admired the nigh-perfect footwork. It was one thing to read about the members of the League’s fighting prowess, and it was another thing to see it. The operative was a pro, case in point as she tried to use their bodies’ movements to trap the man’s arm between her chest and bicep—but he was too fast.

Luckily, she managed to avoid the retaliation as she took a couple of steps away, putting her close to a destroyed wall.

The operative immediately began to reach for Taylor’s head, intent on detaching it from her body. What he didn’t expect was for her to drive said head into his mask. Pain wracked from the point of contact, but the pleasure she derived from the grunt the attack elicited from the operative—-as he moved off from her to regain composure—more than made up for it.

Hissing, she made to follow the attack with a blow, only to—as the man stepped into the path of her baton—swing back around, balance her weight on one leg, lift her other leg, and thrust her knee straight between the operative’s thighs with all the force she could muster—and considering how often she worked out, that was a fair bit of force.

Unbidden, she winced as the operative’s legs buckled slightly from the pain overloading his senses. But Taylor didn't give the man time to recover—not that his slow and deep breathing seemed to help. Instead, she kicked straight into the man’s right knee and, ignoring the pained scream that erupted as a result, struck his mask with her baton, shutting him up.

Taylor capitalized on the opening immediately; closing the gap once again and threading an arm underneath the man’s own, she turned her hips against the operative and, while gritting her teeth, used her leg to sweep the injured leg off the ground. For a brief moment, she wondered whether she had overestimated her strength, then the swoosh of displaced air was heard as momentum did its thing and the larger body slammed down hard.

Releasing a ragged sigh, Taylor noticed a small device peeking from the operative’s pants pocket—a sleek, cylindrical object with faintly glowing lines etched into its surface. She snatched it up, examining it closely.

“This is it,” she said. “Whatever they’re using, this is the trigger.”

Robin—dealing with the last operative quickly—glanced at the device, his jaw tightening. “It’s League tech, all right. And if Ra’s is behind this, he’s got more where that came from.”

A chilling realization settled over Taylor. “If he keeps this up, he’ll level half the city before we can stop him.”

Robin’s expression was grim. “Then we don’t stop. We find him, we stop the weapon, and we end this—before Gotham becomes his testing ground.”

As another explosion rocked the city, the two exchanged a determined look before disappearing into the smoke. The race to stop Ra’s al Ghul had begun.