INTERLUDE II: THE CONFRONTATION

Taylor had known for the past three blocks that she was being followed.  

It was subtle, almost imperceptible—just a faint shift in the rhythm of the city behind her, a presence that never quite faded, no matter how many turns she took. Most people wouldn’t have noticed. Even most trained fighters would’ve written it off as nerves.  

But she wasn’t most people.  

She didn’t change her pace, didn’t tense, didn’t even acknowledge it. Instead, she kept walking, leading her pursuer away from the crowded streets, away from watchful eyes. The moment she turned into the alley, she moved—scaling the nearest fire escape in seconds, tucking herself into the shadows above.  

And then she waited.  

The footsteps slowed. Stopped. Then—deliberately, as if they wanted her to hear them—Nightwing stepped into view.  

Taylor exhaled through her nose.  

He wasn’t trying to be subtle anymore.  

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. He stood relaxed but alert, his posture easy yet unreadable. The faint glow of Gotham’s streetlights caught the blue lines of his suit, the blue of his mask. His head tilted slightly, scanning the alley.  

Then, without looking up, he said, “You’re good. But I know you’re there.”  

Taylor didn’t move.  

“If I wanted a fight, I wouldn’t have let you hear me coming.”  

Still, she didn’t respond. Silence was a weapon, too.  

Nightwing sighed. “Okay. Guess we’re doing this the hard way.” He glanced up. His expression was measured, with a hint of displeasure. “I know you’re not from here.”  

That made Taylor’s fingers tighten slightly against the steel railing.  

“You’re not just another vigilante trying to carve out a piece of Gotham,” he continued. “You’re different. And I don’t mean the way you fight. I don’t mean the way you move. I mean everything.”  

She said nothing.  

“I don’t know where you came from. But I know you’re smart. And I know you’ve been pushing yourself too hard for too long.”  

She narrowed her eyes. He wasn’t trying to get information out of her. Not exactly.  

“So, here’s the thing.” His voice was calm, steady. “You keep going like this, running solo, fighting your way through Gotham’s worst without backup? You’re going to burn out. Maybe worse.”  

She still didn’t move. But the words landed harder than she wanted to admit.  

“I’m not here to tell you to stop.” He took a step back, just enough to show he wasn’t trying to corner her. “I’m here to give you a choice.”  

Taylor watched him carefully.  

“You can keep going alone. Keep fighting, keep scraping by, keep taking hits that you don’t need to take.” His tone didn’t change, but there was something in his stance—a quiet sincerity that she hadn’t expected. “Or you can work with people who actually want to help.”  

The offer hung in the air between them.  

Taylor’s heart was steady. Her breathing was controlled. But something in her gut twisted.  

Nightwing wasn’t just offering an alliance.  

He was offering something she hadn’t had since she woke up in Gotham.  

Support.  

Taylor exhaled, slow and controlled. Then, without a word, she turned and disappeared into the night.  

She didn’t take the offer.  

But she didn’t dismiss it, either.