INTERLUDE

Gotham was as loud and restless as ever, but up here, on the edge of a crumbling rooftop, the city’s hum of activity—a constant companion to the Bat-family’s nightly vigil—felt muted. Nightwing crouched at the ledge, his escrima sticks holstered at his back as he observed the flickering lights of the Narrows, but his mind was far from the streets below.

The Swarm Queen.

The name had started circulating among the Bat-family recently, and for good reason. A newcomer to Gotham who wasn’t quite a hero, yet certainly not a villain. Someone who had found her way into the chaos of the city and, surprisingly, into the good graces of Damian.

Damian. Of all people.

Nightwing couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. His brother was fiercely independent and notoriously judgmental of anyone outside the Bat-family. And yet, he had chosen to work with the Swarm Queen, even defying Bruce to do so. That alone made her… unique.

But there was more to her than that. There had to be.

Nightwing leaned back, resting his forearms on his knees as he turned the situation over in his mind. The Swarm Queen wasn’t from Gotham—that much was obvious. Her tactics were too unpolished, her approach too unpredictable. She fought like someone who was learning to survive on the fly, not someone who had grown up in Gotham’s brutal shadow.

And then there was the way she used her powers—or, rather, the way she struggled to use them. The reports he’d heard from Damian and the others painted a picture of a woman whose abilities were as much a burden as they were an asset. She was still figuring them out, still wrestling for control.

It reminded him of someone.

“Not Bruce,” Nightwing muttered to himself, shaking his head. No, Bruce was too rigid, too calculated. The Swarm Queen’s story—what little he knew of it—felt closer to someone like Jason. Someone carrying a wound so deep it bled into everything they did.

But who was she?

Nightwing had asked Damian, of course, but his brother had been frustratingly tight-lipped about her identity. All he’d said was, “She’s capable,” as though that was explanation enough.

It wasn’t.

Not for someone like Nightwing, who had learned the hard way that trust had to be earned, not blindly given.

He sighed, standing and running a hand through his hair. A part of him told him to let it go, to let Damian make his own choices. But another part—the part he had inherited from Bruce after years of working together; or maybe it was something deeper, an instinct honed through countless nights of facing Gotham’s worst—nagged at him. He couldn’t ignore the possibility that the Swarm Queen was a bigger threat than she appeared to be so far.

. . . . .

The Batcomputer hummed quietly as Nightwing leaned against the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. He had returned to the Batcave under the pretense of helping Bruce coordinate with the rest of the family—as Bruce had stepped out on Justice League business—but in truth, his focus was elsewhere.

Nightwing’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. He shouldn’t be doing this. If Damian or the others—barring Tim and Cass; they would understand and even help him out—caught him, there’d be questions, accusations, maybe even a fight.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the Swarm Queen than she let on.

With a deep breath, he began his search.

First, he combed through local databases—police reports, witness statements, even grainy surveillance footage from the Narrows. There were scraps of information, bits and pieces that painted a picture of a newcomer with shaky powers and a knack for inspiring the people around her.

But nothing before Gotham.

No records, no history, no ties to any other city or state. It was as if she hadn’t existed until the moment she set foot in Gotham.

Nightwing frowned, his hands pausing on the keyboard. That didn’t make sense. Everyone left a trail, no matter how faint. If she was using an alias, there should still be something.

His frown deepened as he expanded his search, tapping into global databases and international watchlists. Still nothing.

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he stared at the screen. Either she was exceptionally good at covering her tracks, or…

She wasn’t hiding. She was absent.

His instincts screamed at him to confront her, to demand answers. But he knew better. Damian wouldn’t take kindly to him interfering, and Bruce… well, Bruce had a habit of handling things his way.

Nightwing tapped a finger against his chin. For now, he decided he would keep what he had learned to himself. But he couldn’t let it go.

“If you’re not going to tell us who you are, Swarm Queen, I’ll just have to find out for myself.”