CHAPTER THREE - UNNEEDED ATTENTION

Taylor moved quickly through the narrow alleyways, her hood pulled low over her face. Her heart still raced from the mugging she stopped, though she tried to suppress the flicker of satisfaction. The man she’d helped had run off without a word of thanks, leaving her alone with the unconscious would-be robber. She wasn’t expecting gratitude—it wasn’t why she did this. But now she had a bigger problem.

The man she’d taken down wasn’t just some random thug. A tattoo inked onto his hand—a black-and-white umbrella crest—had caught her eye during the scuffle. Penguin’s emblem.

“Great,” Taylor muttered under her breath, pulling her hood tighter as she slipped out of the alley and onto the dimly lit street. The last thing she wanted was to draw the attention of Gotham’s criminal underworld. But judging by the way the group of men at the corner bar had stared at her as she’d fled, that might already be out of her control.

She glanced over her shoulder. Three of the men were tailing her now, their gait casual but purposeful. She didn’t need to see the telltale bulge under their jackets to know they were armed. Gotham had a way of broadcasting its threats—subtle danger, constant tension. Even Brockton Bay’s most dangerous gangs had never made her feel quite this exposed.

Taylor ducked into another alley, her mind racing. She needed to deal with them quickly before they could call.for reinforcements. Her swarm stirred uneasily at the edge of her senses, but her control wavered. The cockroaches she tried to summon scurried half-heartedly toward her before stopping, stubborn. The flies ignored her completely.

“Come on,” she hissed through clenched teeth, trying again. She hoped the adrenaline would help her push through whatever block she was facing. But the insects still refused to respond fully, their sluggish movements almost mocking her.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind her, closer now. Taylor cursed under her breath, jaw clenching, and frustration boiling over, she slammed her fist against the wall. 

“Why won’t you just work?” 

Taking a deep, measured breath, she steadied herself. Her powers weren't reliable right now, but she wasn't helpless. Her hand slipped into her pocket, fingers closing around the worn grip of her collapsible baton. She'd started carrying it not long after the altercation in the diner. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. 

The first man rounded the corner, his silhouette outlined by the faint streetlight. Taylor waited, keeping her breathing even. When he stepped closer, she exploded into motion.

The baton snapped open with a metallic click, and Taylor surged forward, swinging low. The weapon cracked against his knee, and he let out a sharp cry, holding onto the injured knee. Before he could recover, Taylor drove her shoulder into his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Over here!" one of the others shouted.

Taylor didn't wait for the second man to come to her. She darted toward him, forcing him to react. He swung wildly, the crowbar in his hand glinting in the dim light. Taylor sidestepped, slipping past his reach, and struck his wrist with the baton. The crowbar clattered to the ground.

She followed up with a quick jab to his ribs and a sweeping kick to his legs. He crumpled to the ground with a dull thud, groaning as he clutched his side. 

The third man hesitated, his hand hovering over the pistol tucked in his waistband. Taylor didn't give him the chance. 

She closed the distance in an instant, slamming the baton into his forearm. The gun fell, and Taylor kicked it across the alley, sending it skittering into the shadows.

He swung at her, but she caught his arm, twisting it behind his back with practiced ease. Her combat lessons came rushing back—leverage, angles, control—and she drove him forward, slamming him into the alley’s brick wall.

"Enough!" he shouted, his voice tinged with fear.

Taylor leaned in close, her voice low and menacing. "Tell your boss to stay out of my way."

The man nodded frantically, and she released him, letting him slump to the ground. The others were groaning but didn't make a move to stand. Satisfied, Taylor folded her baton and slipped it back into her pocket.

As she turned and walked away, her thoughts were racing again. She'd handled herself well, but it wasn't enough to shake the doubt gnawing at her. Gotham was relentless, and the Penguin's men were just the tip of the iceberg.

This wasn't Brockton Bay. Here, everyone played for keeps.