CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: BLOOD IN THE WATER

The ambush went smoother than the last one.

Taylor and Spoiler moved in sync now, a far cry from their earlier missteps. Taylor would take point, slipping past guards with practiced ease, while Spoiler covered her, using her gadgets to disable cameras and create distractions. It wasn’t perfect—Spoiler’s methods were still too loud, too flashy for Taylor’s liking—but it worked.

It had taken time. Mistakes. Adjustments. But Taylor had learned how Spoiler fought—how she thought. And, more importantly, how to use that.

Their target, a woman named Lark—Artemis Dubois—was a skilled assassin and bodyguard for Penguin, specializing in close-quarters combat and knife fighting. Her crew was cautious, well-armed, and disciplined—better trained than most of the street gangs they had faced before.

Not good enough.

Taylor struck first. A guard at the main entrance barely had time to register her before she drove an elbow into his throat, catching him as he crumpled. Spoiler was already moving, ducking behind a shipping crate and launching a handful of flashbang pellets. A sharp pop, a burst of light—just enough to disorient, to scatter them.

Taylor capitalized immediately, hitting the first staggered thug with a precise strike to the solar plexus. He gasped, doubling over, and she sent him crashing to the floor with a sweep of her leg.

Lark was already moving.

Not running. Not panicking. But retreating, stepping back toward the exit with the controlled movements of someone who knew when to cut their losses. Taylor saw the moment Spoiler noticed. The hesitation, the split-second temptation to chase.

She didn’t give her the chance.

“Stick to the plan,” she called, cutting off the thought before it could form.

Spoiler clicked her tongue in irritation but nodded, pivoting to deal with the remaining guards.

Good.

Taylor bolted after Lark. She had a head start, but Taylor was faster. She closed the distance in seconds, intercepting her just as she reached the exit. Lark twisted, drawing a knife in one fluid motion, but Taylor caught her wrist and wrenched her arm back at a sharp angle.

“Lark,” she said evenly, ignoring her grunt of pain. “We need to talk.”

. . . . .

They had dragged Lark to one of the abandoned warehouses along the docks, far enough from prying eyes that no one would come running if things got messy. The space was mostly empty—rusting shipping containers, cracked concrete, and the quiet sound of water lapping against the shore outside.

She shifted in the chair, testing the zip ties around her wrists, but Taylor could tell she wasn’t expecting to break free. No, Lark was tougher than most. She was assessing—calculating how much trouble she was in, how long she could hold out, and whether giving them anything was worth it.

“You know,” she mused, tilting her head and meeting Taylor’s gaze without a flicker of fear. “If this is where you start threatening me, I gotta say—I’m disappointed.”

Spoiler leaned against a nearby table, arms crossed. “Don’t worry,” she said cheerfully. “You’ll get there.”

Taylor ignored the exchange. She stepped forward, keeping her voice calm. Controlled. “We know where the weapons are coming from. We know who’s supplying them.”

Lark smirked, though there was an edge to it. “Congrats. Sounds like you don’t need me, then.”

Spoiler sighed, pushing off the table. “Come on, Artemis, you’re smarter than this.” She crouched beside her, voice dropping to something almost friendly. “You work for Penguin. You are one of his top lieutenants. That means you know where they’re coming in.”

Lark’s smirk didn’t waver. “You think I’m stupid enough to roll over for you two?”

“No,” Taylor said simply.

She let the word hang for a moment before continuing. “You’re smart enough to know we’ll figure it out eventually. You can either be useful and walk away from this, or you can keep pretending you’re loyal to a boss who’d drop you the second you stopped being convenient.”

Lark scoffed. “Please. You think I don’t know how this works? You get your info, and I still end up face down in the harbor.”

Spoiler leaned in slightly. “Nah. We’d leave you somewhere Penguin’s guys could find you.” She shrugged. “What happens after that? Not our problem.”

“Penguin doesn’t like loose ends,” Taylor added, watching Lark carefully. That, finally, made her pause. “And I imagine he likes failures even less. If he finds out we had you? That you talked, whether you did or not?” She shrugged. “You know what happens next.”

Spoiler tapped the table. “Tick-tock, Lark.”

Silence stretched between them as Lark weighed her options.

Then, after a long moment, she let out a sharp breath.

“Dixon Docks,” she muttered. “Tricorner Yards. That’s where they’re coming in.”

Taylor studied her, searching for any sign of deceit. “The Calculator runs it?”

Lark shook her head. “No clue. But if you want to find him, that’s your best shot.”

Spoiler glanced at Taylor. It wasn’t much, but it was a lead.

Taylor nodded. “Good.” Without another word, she struck Lark hard.

Spoiler watched as Lark slumped in the chair, unconscious. “Was that really necessary?”

Taylor didn’t answer. She had already turned away, burner phone pressed to her ear. A few button presses, a short pause, then:

“There’s a weapons smuggler tied up in Warehouse 17 on the East Docks. You might want to pick her up before someone else does.” She didn’t wait for a response before hanging up and tossing the phone into the murky water outside.

When she turned back, Spoiler’s arms were crossed. “So… we’re just gonna leave her here? Tied up. Unconscious. Completely defenseless.”

“She’ll be fine,” Taylor said, adjusting her mask.

Spoiler made a noise that was half scoff, half laugh. “You sure about that? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the GCPD isn’t exactly great at fast response times. And Penguin’s guys? They’re a lot quicker.”

“She knew the risks,” Taylor replied, voice flat. Too flat. “If we let her go, she’d just warn them.”

“Sure, but she’d also be awake. Able to run.” Spoiler shook her head. “I get that we’re playing hardball here, but come on. You really wanna be the reason she ends up in the river?”

Taylor met her gaze, unreadable. “You think I care what happens to her?”

Spoiler hesitated. Visibly recoiled, like the words had thrown her off balance. “I think…” A beat. Then, a sigh. “I think you’re used to doing this alone. And that’s fine. But we’re supposed to be a team now, right?”

Taylor didn’t answer.

Spoiler exhaled sharply and turned away. “Screw it. I’ll be right back.”

Before Taylor could stop her, she moved to Lark’s chair, pulling a knife from her belt. A quick flick, and the zip ties loosened just enough that, if Lark woke up soon, she’d be able to break free. Not easily, but she’d have a chance.

“There,” Spoiler said, stepping back. “Now we can go.”

Taylor watched her for a long moment, then turned without a word and melted into the shadows.

Spoiler let out a breath and followed.

. . . . .

Their success, however, had not gone unnoticed.

High above the docks, perched on a rusted crane, a figure watched them disappear into the night. The League of Shadows had been observing Taylor for weeks, tracking her movements, evaluating her skills. She wasn’t the most skilled, the most unpredictable, or the most ruthless—but there was something different about her. Something worth watching.

For now.

The figure activated a communicator, their voice low and reverent. “She is as you suspected, Master. A force to be reckoned with.”

On the other end of the line, Ra’s al Ghul leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips. “And her companion?”

“A distraction. Useful, but not a threat.”

Ra’s steepled his fingers, his mind already working through the possibilities. “Continue your observations. I want to know everything—her strengths, her weaknesses, her motivations. If she is as formidable as she appears, she may yet prove… useful.”

The figure bowed their head. “As you command.”

As the communicator went silent, the assassin lowered their head, deep in thought. Gotham was a cesspool, a breeding ground for villainy and corruption. But within its depths, there were always opportunities. And Taylor—this enigmatic, relentless fighter—was an opportunity unlike any other.

Far from the city, in the shadows of his stronghold, Ra’s al Ghul listened.

For now, he would watch. And wait.

But when the time came, he would make his move.

. . . . .

Back on the streets, Taylor and Spoiler moved swiftly, putting distance between themselves and the docks. Spoiler was already talking, her tone light and teasing, but Taylor barely heard her. Her thoughts were elsewhere, focused on the Calculator, on the next step in their mission.

But beneath it all, there was a faint, nagging unease. A sense that they were being watched.

She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the shadows.

“Something wrong?” Spoiler asked, following her gaze.

Taylor shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s keep moving.”

But as they disappeared into the night, the feeling lingered.

In Gotham, the right kind of attention was never a good thing.