CHAPTER TWENTY: THREADS CONVERGE

The Narrows was unusually quiet tonight, a fragile peace settling over the streets after weeks of violence. But Taylor knew better than to trust the calm. Beneath the surface, Gotham simmered like a pressure cooker on the verge of exploding.

She sat hunched over in the dim light of her room, fingers ghosting over the scattered papers and notes she had spent weeks gathering. Strings of connections stretched in her mind, threading through whispers on the street, stolen documents, intercepted conversations, and locations where advanced weapons had been tested or deployed—warehouses, strongholds, and hidden caches scattered across the city.

At first, she thought it was just another arms dealer playing both sides. That was how Gotham worked. The underworld thrived on disorder, and people like the Calculator profited from it. But this wasn’t just about profit. The gang war was a smokescreen. A carefully orchestrated distraction.

Her eyes flicked to the map of Gotham tacked to the wall. Certain key districts had seen an uptick in high-tech weaponry—industrial zones, power stations, water treatment plants, transportation hubs. Isolated, they meant nothing. But together? They formed a pattern. A slow push toward something far worse.

She had seen it before.

Brockton Bay had been broken by unchecked conflict, by the greed and ambition of those who carved out their own kingdoms at the city’s expense. And now Gotham was following the same script, but on a scale she hadn’t fully grasped until now.

And behind it all, a familiar name whispered in the dark.

The League of Assassins.

She hadn’t wanted to believe it. The League was Cauldron lite—a ghost story whispered among criminals, politicians, and those who played at ruling the world. But when you stripped away the myth, what did you have? A powerful, highly organized army of zealots trained from birth to believe in a singular truth: civilization was a cycle of decay and renewal.

And they were here.

If she was right, Gotham wasn’t just dealing with another crime war. It was being prepped for violent transformation.

She couldn’t let that happen.

But how?

Her last encounter with Penguin’s enforcers had shown her the limits of her current abilities. She was stronger than before, but it wasn’t enough to face the kind of combined firepower and discipline the League and Calculator’s operatives wielded.

Still, she couldn’t walk away.

Taylor leaned back, exhaling slowly.

She needed a new approach. The Calculator’s network was vast, but not impenetrable. If she could identify key nodes—supply lines, communication hubs, manufacturing sites—she could start dismantling the operation piece by piece.

She stood, stretching out the stiffness in her limbs, ready to move. She had to keep the pressure up, had to keep pushing—

Her second-hand phone buzzed.

Taylor frowned. Only a handful of people had this number, and none of them should be calling her now. She checked the screen.

Unknown Number.

She hesitated, unease running down her spine, then answered.

Silence on the other end. Then—

A smooth, detached yet obviously modulated voice. “I have to say, I’m impressed.”

She tensed.

“You’ve been making quite the mess. Black Mask is furious, Penguin is paranoid, and even the Bat has started taking notice.” A pause. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You are interesting.”

Her grip tightened around the phone. Whoever this was, they had been watching her.

“You come out of nowhere. No records. No history. No trail. No one knows your name, and yet you move through the city like you belong.” Another pause. “I don’t like mysteries.”

Her blood ran cold.

They knew.

The voice chuckled. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

Taylor forced herself to stay silent, her mind racing. If the person had figured out she didn't have much of an identity—how much did they know?

“I’ll make this simple,” they continued. “I’m a reasonable man, so I’m going to set up a little test. See if you’re worth eliminating… or if you might be useful.”

This person had reach. Information. Resources. Someone with the kind of network that could pick up on her activities even without an obvious pattern. Not a common street-level informant—this was something bigger.

“You’re obviously not with Penguin or Black Mask. And you’re not a cop.”

“Correct.”

“So that leaves…” She exhaled slowly. “An interested party.”

Another chuckle. “Very good.”

The pieces were clicking together. Someone with an ear on the city’s underworld, but not a major participant. Someone who moved information, supplied weapons, and played both sides against each other.

The name surfaced before she could stop it.

“…You’re the Calculator.”

This time, the silence stretched just a fraction longer. Then—

A quiet chuckle. “Very good.”

The line went dead.

Taylor lowered the phone, pulse hammering.

She had known she wouldn’t stay anonymous forever. But the fact that the Calculator had found her this fast meant she had underestimated him—and Gotham.

She had been reckless.

Operating alone, relying on instinct and experience instead of planning—before, it had worked. But, despite their similarities, Gotham wasn’t Brockton Bay. She didn’t have her swarm, her reach, her ability to be everywhere at once.

And now, the villain had seen through the cracks.

Taylor exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus.

He didn’t know everything. If he did, he wouldn’t be testing her—he’d already be moving to eliminate her. That meant she still had room to maneuver, to stay ahead of whatever he was planning.

But only if she was smarter about it.

No more reckless moves. No more acting without contingencies.

If the Calculator wanted to test her, fine. She’d let him think he had the upper hand.

And then she’d make him regret it.