Gotham Arc #9.
ZZZZT!
Electricity arced from the steel surface. Catwoman jerked back with a strangled cry, her body convulsing violently. The current tore through her, muscles locking, back arching. She hit the ground hard, twitching, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
"Well, well, well."
The voice came from the shadows at the tunnel's far end.
The Riddler stepped into the light, his signature green suit immaculate despite the chaos below. The question mark emblazoned across his chest seemed to mock everyone present. His mask gleamed under the emergency lights. But it was what he held that made Jake's breath catch.
The cane.
Sleek. Green. Question mark handle. Humming with faint electric charge.
Jake felt it immediately. That pull. That hunger clawing at his chest like a living thing. The totem called to him like a magnet trying to tear free from his ribcage.
His eyes flicked to the interface only he could see.
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Time Bank: 00:13:52
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Thirteen hours. He'd burned through two hours in the tournament. Running out. Fast.
He needed that cane.
He needed the umbrella.
He wasn't leaving without them.
Riddler approached the pedestal with theatrical slowness, boots clicking on concrete. He circled Catwoman's twitching form, tapping the cane against his palm with each step. The rhythm was deliberate. Mocking.
"Quite the turn of events," he mused, voice dripping with satisfaction. "The Spider in a cage. The Cat electrocuted. And the prize, untouched."
He was shorter than Jake expected. Leaner. But his eyes -- visible through the mask's lenses -- were sharp. Calculating. Alive with manic intelligence that made Jake's skin crawl.
Jake's hands gripped the bars tighter, ignoring the tremor in his fingers. His shoulders screamed. Every nerve ending still remembered the twenty kilovolts. "Why the riddle? The hidden passage? What's your endgame, Nigma?"
Riddler's grin widened, stretching unnaturally. "And I thought you were smart enough to figure it out, Spider. Turns out you're a blockhead just like the others."
He stepped closer to the briefcase. His fingers hovered over it, trembling with barely contained anticipation.
"The prize," Jake said quietly, pieces clicking together. "You wanted it for yourself. And you needed someone to take the fall."
Riddler froze. Then he laughed -- high, delighted, genuinely impressed.
"Too little, too late to figure out my plan!" He spun, cane pointed at Jake like a rapier. "But it doesn't matter if you do. Your fate is sealed. Your journey ends here, Spider."
The cane's tip glowed brighter. Electric charge building with a rising whine.
Jake's exhausted mind raced. The bars. The cage. The cane. There had to be--
Wait.
The cane had a control mechanism. Buttons along the shaft. Riddler's thumb hovered over one.
If Jake could make him fumble. Make him drop it. Make him--
"Predictable as always, Edward."
The new voice was cold. Nasal. Dripping with aristocratic disdain.
The Penguin waddled into the light, umbrella raised like a gentleman's walking stick -- except gentlemen didn't carry weaponized explosives.
He was exactly as grotesque as Jake remembered from the balcony. Short. Rotund. Hooked nose jutting forward like a beak. Monocle glinting. Top hat perched at a jaunty angle that somehow made him more menacing, not less. The umbrella in his hands wasn't an accessory. It was a threat.
And Jake felt it too. The totem pull. Stronger now, overlapping, creating a resonance in his chest that made it hard to breathe. Two of them in the same room.
Riddler spun, cane shifting to point at Penguin. His hand shook -- not from fear, from rage. "You're not supposed to be here!"
"Put that thing down," Penguin said, voice ice-cold and conversational, "unless you've got something in that sorry cane that can stop a Semtex grenade."
Riddler's eyes widened behind the mask. "You wouldn't--"
"Try me." Penguin's gloved finger rested on a hidden trigger along the umbrella's shaft. "One button. You, me, and this entire room go up in smoke. Falcone will understand. Tragic accident during a private business meeting."
Jake's pulse hammered. Two villains. Two totems. One cage. And a ticking clock in his head counting down to something he didn't want to find out.
"How did you find--" Riddler started.
"Find the place you're keeping my money?" Penguin finished, glancing at the briefcase with possessive greed. "You think I'd just give you two million and not keep an eye on what you did with it? I'm insulted, Edward. Truly."
"Technically," Riddler argued weakly, "it belongs to Falcone."
"Potato, po-tah-to." Penguin shrugged, utterly unbothered. "He and I have an understanding. You and I, however, do not."
Riddler's jaw clenched. "I knew something was up when Harley came charging in--"
"She wasn't my doing," Penguin said.
"Guilty," Jake called from the cage. Both villains ignored him.
"You thought you could disappear from the balcony into dark, shadowy places and I wouldn't notice?" Penguin continued, waddling closer.
"You followed me."
"Yes. But I know where I will not be following you." Penguin's grin widened, cruel and sharp as broken glass. "To your grave."
"Wait!" Riddler's voice cracked, desperation bleeding through. "You don't have to -- we can share! One million each and pin it on the Spider and his accomplice! We can-- where is the Cat?"
"Surprise!"
Catwoman exploded from the floor where she'd been lying. She'd been playing dead. Waiting.
Her whip cracked out with vicious precision, wrapping around Penguin's umbrella. She yanked hard.
Penguin stumbled forward with an undignified squawk, finger slipping off the trigger.
"YOU--!"
Riddler panicked. His thumb jammed down on the cane's controls -- wrong button.
The bars of Jake's cage shorted out. Sparks flew like fireworks. The locks disengaged with a heavy CLUNK that echoed through the chamber.
Jake didn't think. He moved.
Kicked the cage door open. Rolled out despite his body's screaming protests. His shoulders burned. His legs threatened to buckle. He ignored everything except the totems.
Riddler saw him coming. Tried to adjust the cane, fingers fumbling for the right button.
Jake fired a web -- straight at Riddler's hand. The sticky strand caught, wrapped, yanked.
The cane flew free, spinning through the air in a green arc.
Jake caught it mid-roll. Warmth spread through his palm, satisfying, intoxicating--
Riddler slammed into him from the side. They hit the ground together, the cane trapped between them.
"MINE!" Riddler clawed at it, fingernails scraping Jake's wrist.
Jake headbutted him. The mask cracked. Riddler reeled back.
Above them, Penguin roared, wrenching his umbrella free from Catwoman's whip with surprising strength. He swung it toward Jake like a club.
Jake rolled to his feet. Saw his opening.
Webbed Penguin's wrist. Yanked. Penguin stumbled forward, off-balance, cursing.
Riddler grabbed Jake's ankle. "You don't deserve--"
Jake kicked him in the face. His hand shot out. Fingers closed around the umbrella's handle. He pulled.
Penguin held on, stronger than he looked. They grappled for half a second -- then Jake's enhanced strength won. The umbrella came free.
Two totems. One in each hand.
The pull ceased entirely. The hunger satisfied. The warmth now in both palms, grounding him.
But Catwoman was already moving. She pushed herself up on trembling arms, every muscle in her body still twitching from the current.
The briefcase sat three feet away. Untouched. Unguarded. Two million dollars.
Through the haze of pain, she calculated: thirty seconds until they noticed her moving. Twenty to reach the case. Ten to run.
Her hand closed around the handle. She ran.
Jake started after her.
"SPIDER!"
The shout came from behind. From the tunnel they'd entered through.
Harley Quinn burst through the opening, covered in dust and fury and manic determination. Her goons flooded in behind her -- a tide of painted faces and crowbars and chainsaws that filled the tunnel with chaos.
Her eyes locked on Jake. Pupils dilated. Grin savage.
"You're not running from me this time!"
Jake's spider-sense exploded.
He made a choice.
Behind him: Harley and her goons, ready to tear him apart. In front: Catwoman with two million dollars, disappearing into Gotham's maze.
The totems burned in his hands, begging to be consumed. Forty-eight hours each. Ninety-six total. Safety.
But two million could buy real safety. Equipment. Information. A way out of Gotham before the bounty hunters came.
Fuck it.
He bolted after Catwoman.
"GET BACK HERE!" Harley shrieked behind him.
The tunnel ahead curved sharply. Catwoman was fast -- faster than she had any right to be. She moved like water, like smoke, barely touching the ground.
Jake fired a web at her legs.
She jumped, inverting mid-air with acrobatic grace that would make Olympic gymnasts weep. The web sailed beneath her, splattering uselessly on concrete.
She landed running, didn't even break stride.
Behind them, footsteps thundered. Harley and her goons, gaining ground through sheer numbers and insanity.
The tunnel opened ahead. Exit. Warehouse floor above.
Catwoman burst through first. Jake was three seconds behind, spider-sense screaming as he emerged into--
Pier 49. Night air. The warehouse interior stripped bare except for support beams and rusted equipment. Moonlight streamed through broken windows. The smell of salt water and industrial decay hit him like a wall.
Gotham's waterfront sprawled beyond. Cranes loomed like skeletal giants. Shipping containers stacked in geometric mountains. The black water of the harbor lapped against rotting pilings.
Catwoman didn't hesitate. She ran for the warehouse's far end, where a loading dock door hung half-open.
Jake swung after her, web-line catching a support beam. His body protested every movement. The electrocution had cooked him more than he'd admitted. His strength was compromised.
But he pushed through.
He gained ground. Ten feet. Five.
"Persistent," Catwoman called over her shoulder, not even breathing hard. "I like that in a man."
"Money first. Flirting later," Jake shot back.
She laughed -- genuine, delighted. "Multitasking, Spider. Try it."
She hit the loading dock and leaped. Jake followed, web-line ready.
But she dropped through a gap he hadn't seen -- narrow, between two containers. Barely a foot wide.
Jake tried to follow. His shoulders didn't fit. Too broad. Enhanced musculature betrayed him.
He climbed up instead, scrambling onto the container's top. Looked down.
The maze swallowed her. Containers stacked three-high created valleys of shadow where moonlight couldn't reach. The smell of rust and brine mixed with old diesel. Somewhere, metal groaned as containers settled. Water lapped against pilings, masking footsteps.
Jake's spider-sense hummed, but it was useless here. She wasn't attacking -- she was running.
And she knew this territory. He didn't.
His jaw clenched. He'd lost her.
"THERE!"
Harley's voice. Behind him.
Jake spun. Harley and her goons spilled from the warehouse like a flood of madness. Fifteen. Twenty. Too many to count. Crowbars, baseball bats, and that one persistent clown who didn't leave the chainsaw behind. It roared to life with a pull-cord scream.
Harley whistled once. Sharp. Clear.
The goons stopped laughing. They spread out without hesitation, practiced, surrounding the container from all sides. Three climbed the adjacent stacks, cutting off aerial escape. Two more blocked the water's edge.
Jake's spider-sense lit up from every direction.
"End of the line, bug boy," Harley called up, grin stretching ear to ear. Blood still stained her split lip from earlier. She'd added more makeup over it -- theatrical, gruesome. "No more runnin'. No more swingin'. Just you, me, and a little heart-to-heart."
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