Gotham Arc #8.
Chainsaws revved. Crowbars clanged against the cage mesh. The clowns poured into the arena like a flood of painted nightmares.
Jake's eyes snapped to the lever. Twenty feet away. Might as well be a mile.
"GET HIM!" Harley shrieked, voice cracking with delight.
The first clown lunged, chainsaw screaming. Jake webbed his face, yanked him off balance, and used the momentum to swing past two more. Their crowbars whistled through empty air.
The tiger -- Bronze Tiger, still convulsing on the floor, groaned. Out of the fight. Good.
Jake hit the ground rolling. A clown dove for his legs. He vaulted over the grasping hands -- his calves screaming in protest -- fired a web at the cage ceiling, and yanked himself up. His shoulders burned. His muscles were cooked. Every movement felt like tearing tissue.
Below, the clowns stumbled over each other, laughing maniacally even as they collided. Coordination wasn't their strong suit. Chaos was.
Catwoman moved like smoke through the mayhem. She wasn't fighting the clowns. She was using them. A whip-crack sent one stumbling into another. A perfectly timed sidestep made two crash together. She was heading for the same spot Jake was.
The lever.
His eyes were fixed on it like nothing else mattered.
"Out of my way, boys!" Harley vaulted over her own goons with gymnastic grace, bat swinging. She landed between Jake and the lever, grin stretching impossibly wide.
"Think you can just slip away? Nuh-uh, bug. We got unfinished business."
The crowd was losing its mind. Not cheering -- rioting. The electrified floor. Harley's invasion. The tournament had collapsed into pure anarchy. People were grabbing cash from fallen bettors. Security tried to restore order and got trampled. Someone threw a bottle. It shattered against the cage.
Jake's spider-sense buzzed. He twisted. Harley's bat carved through the space where his head had been.
"Stand STILL!" she yelled, swinging again.
He didn't. He fired two quick web shots -- one at her feet, one at the bat. The first missed. The second caught the bat mid-swing and yanked it from her hands.
"HEY!"
Catwoman reached the lever first. Her hand closed around it.
"Don't!" Jake shouted.
She paused. Looked at him. Smirked.
"Why not?"
"I don't know what it does yet!"
Her eyes gleamed behind the goggles. "Only one way to find out."
She pulled.
The floor groaned. A section of steel plating near the corner -- the exact spot Jake had been studying -- slid aside with a heavy CLUNK. Beneath it, darkness. And a ladder descending into shadow.
The riddle's answer: a concealed passage triggered by a lever. No knob. Just a switch. Sought with care.
Catwoman didn't hesitate. She dropped through the opening, disappearing into the dark.
Jake sprinted. A clown threw himself into his path. Jake webbed his face and used him as a springboard, launching toward the passage.
Harley recovered her bat and charged. "You ain't goin' NOWHERE!"
She swung. Jake dropped flat. The bat whistled overhead, so close he felt the wind.
He scrambled forward on hands and knees. The opening was right there.
Harley dove. Her hand caught his ankle.
"Gotcha!"
Jake kicked. His heel connected with her jaw. She yelped, grip loosening. He yanked free and threw himself into the passage.
Grabbed the ladder. Descended three rungs.
Harley's face appeared above, silhouetted against the arena lights. Blood trickled from her split lip. She was grinning.
"You think a little hole's gonna stop me?"
She jumped.
Jake looked down. The ladder descended maybe twenty feet before hitting a platform. Catwoman was already halfway down.
Harley plummeted toward him, bat raised overhead like she was going to drive it through his skull.
Jake let go.
Free fall. Wind screaming past his ears. Spider-sense guiding his trajectory.
He fired a web at the platform below. The line caught. He swung, pendulum-style, and landed in a crouch beside Catwoman. His knees buckled slightly. He caught himself on one hand, breathing hard.
Above, Harley hit the ladder hard. It rattled violently. She clung on, cursing.
But she was too far up. And the mechanism Jake had spotted earlier -- a pressure plate at the top of the shaft -- responded to the sudden absence of weight.
The steel plating slid shut with a deafening SLAM.
Harley's muffled scream echoed from above. Fists pounded metal. The sound faded as the plate locked into place.
Silence.
Jake's chest heaved. His hands shook. The adrenaline was crashing now, exhaustion flooding in.
Catwoman straightened, brushing dust from her suit. She looked utterly unbothered.
"Solid plan," she said, voice smooth as silk.
Jake stared at her. "How did you--"
"Figure it out?" She tilted her head, goggles reflecting the faint emergency lighting embedded in the tunnel walls. "Please. I've been cracking safes since you were probably reading comic books. A mechanical door triggered by a lever? Child's play."
"That's not what I--" Jake stopped. Took a breath. "You followed me down."
"Technically, I went first."
"You know what I mean."
She smiled. Not mocking. Almost... playful. "I do. And you're welcome."
The tunnel stretched ahead. Narrow. Claustrophobic. The walls were raw concrete, the kind of construction that screamed 'built in a hurry'. Emergency lights cast everything in sickly green.
The air here was warmer and damper than in the tournament ring.
The floor angled upward.
"You're limping," Catwoman said.
Jake glanced down. "Electrocution'll do that."
"Twenty kilovolts and you're still moving." Her voice carried something like respect. "Most people would be dead."
"I'm not most people."
"No." She looked at him, really looked. "You're not."
The way she said it made his chest tighten. Not fear. Something else entirely.
She moved beside him, graceful even in the cramped space.
"Why an ascending tunnel?" Jake wondered aloud.
"It must lead up," Catwoman speculated. "Back to ground level. The arena was underground."
Jake's mind turned that over. The elevator descent. The crowd packed into what felt like a basement. This tunnel was leading them back to the warehouse above.
Why would Riddler build an escape route from his own tournament?
Catwoman's smile sharpened as if she'd read his mind. "What do you think we should expect to find at the end?"
Jake's eyes narrowed.
The tunnel curved. Ahead, faint light spilled from around a corner.
Jake's spider-sense hummed. Something was waiting.
They rounded the corner.
The tunnel opened into a small chamber. The emergency lights here were brighter, revealing the space clearly.
And the traps.
Laser grids crisscrossed the room in red geometric patterns. Pressure plates dotted the floor, barely visible seams in the concrete. A tripwire glinted at ankle height near the far wall.
And beyond it all, on a pedestal in the center of the chamber, sat the briefcase.
Polished steel. Triple locks. Gleaming under the lights.
Two million dollars.
Catwoman whistled softly. "Well. That's inconvenient."
Jake studied the lasers. They moved. Slow, methodical sweeps. Predictable patterns.
And the briefcase? Not his target, but why turn down free money?
"Grab and go?" He turned to his partner.
Catwoman's eyes gleamed. "You read my mind."
She stepped forward.
A fluid roll under the first laser. A leap over the tripwire. Her body twisted mid-air, threading between two intersecting beams.
She landed on a safe tile. Didn't even check. Just knew.
Jake followed. His spider-sense guided him: dodge left, duck, jump. His body was half a second behind his instincts, but adrenaline kept him in the game. A laser grazed his shoulder. Not enough to trigger alarms, but enough to sting. He gritted his teeth and kept moving.
They crossed paths mid-chamber. Jake went high, web-lining along the ceiling. Catwoman went low, sliding beneath a sweeping beam.
Their paths intersected. For one heartbeat, they were inches apart -- him inverted above her, her looking up.
"Nice form," she murmured.
"Yours isn't bad either."
Her lips curved. Then a laser swept toward them both. Slanted but vertical. No time to think.
Jake's hand shot out, catching her waist. He pulled her up as he swung. Her body pressed against his for half a second -- warm, solid, real -- before he released her on the far side of the beam.
She landed perfectly. Didn't stumble. But when she turned back, something in her expression had shifted.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
"Don't mention it."
She smirked. He couldn't help it. He smirked back.
They reached the center together. The briefcase sat between them on its pedestal, untouched.
Jake's chest was tight. Not from exertion. From something else. The way she moved. The way she looked at him. Like he was interesting. Dangerous. Worth her time.
"Two million," Catwoman breathed. Her hand drifted toward the briefcase. "That's a lot of cat food."
Jake's hand shot out, stopping hers. "Wait. If there are traps getting to it--"
"There might be traps on it." She finished his thought. Their hands were still touching. "Smart Spider."
She didn't pull away. Neither did he.
"You know," she said, voice lower now, "in another life, we could've made a good team."
Her hands crawled up his sleeve. His body shivered.
She leaned in. Her eyes met his through the goggles. For one moment, he thought--
But her other hand was already moving.
Not toward the briefcase.
Toward a pressure plate near Jake's foot.
His spider-sense screamed too late.
She stepped on it deliberately. The floor beneath Jake gave way.
He tried to web the ceiling. His wrist flexed but the webs delayed.
He fell.
Not far. Maybe ten feet. But the cage that slammed shut above him was reinforced steel. Bars thick as his wrist.
He grabbed them, pulled. They didn't budge.
Above, Catwoman looked down through the bars. Her expression was apologetic. Almost.
"This is where our partnership ends, Spider."
Jake's jaw clenched, then relaxed. Fair enough. She had tricked him. It's what she did best. Didn't make it sting any less.
"Two million is a lot of money." Her voice was soft. Regretful. "But it's not enough for both of us. You understand."
She turned toward the briefcase.
Jake's hands tightened on the bars. His mind raced. The cage was solid. No obvious weaknesses. And his webs couldn't cut through steel.
"I'll let you keep it. Just let me out."
"Sorry, Spider. It's nothing personal."
Her fingers reached for the briefcase.
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