Gotham Arc #12.
Evening came slowly, the sun bleeding out across Gotham's skyline in shades of orange and purple that the city didn't deserve.
Jake's afternoon had crossed a line.
Ten workers from Dixon Docks sat webbed against shipping containers. Wide-eyed. Black-eyed. Some still bleeding from split lips and broken noses.
He'd left them there for security to find. Or the police. Whoever came first.
Jake perched on a roof three blocks away, hands still shaking.
Tommy. One of them was called Tommy. Wedding ring. Crow's feet that said he smiled a lot. The first guy that had swung a crowbar at him.
Then Tommy had called him a freak. Said Harley had the right idea. Said there was a bounty.
Jake had webbed his mouth shut. Then his chest. Then wrapped him so tight Tommy's eyes bulged, veins popping in his temples as he fought for air.
The others had talked after that.
Talked fast.
Information about The Chemical Factory, the clown network in Gotham's underground tunnels: Harley's operations and tactics. She was more organized than he had realized.
And the container leaving at dusk -- Jake had gotten what he needed.
He'd left them breathing. That counted for something, right?
His hands wouldn't stop shaking.
'They attacked first,' he told himself. 'They made the choice.'
The rationalization tasted like rot.
What was he becoming?
Someone who did whatever it takes. He gritted, swallowing the answer, hard.
The Navigator pulsed. He swung towards Gotham's center. Wayne Tower.
He stopped a few blocks away, unwilling to physically interact with the structure. Eastward from the tower, the East End sprawled.
Westward, Hillside -- where Wayne Manor stood.
The red thread flickered. West.
Jake's chest tightened. His memory flashed -- the cowl, the fists, the brutality.
Why was he suddenly worried about the Dark Knight?
He dove, eyes searching.
Selina was on the move. And this time, she was geared up.
Jake's lenses focused. Even from this distance, he could make out the silhouette. Black tactical suit. Goggles. Whip coiled at her hip.
Catwoman was back. And she was moving with purpose.
Jake studied her movement. She favored her left side slightly -- the shoulder where Lady Vic's bullet had grazed her. And her steps were careful, controlled. The electrocution from the briefcase trap. Still hurting.
But determined.
She scaled a fence with practiced ease despite the injuries, dropped into an alley, and kept moving west.
Toward Bristol. Toward Hillside.
Jake's jaw tightened. Of all directions.
Hillside sat on Gotham's northwest edge like a crown the city hadn't earned. Manicured lawns stretched between estates, each one worth more than entire East End blocks. Security drones patrolled the skies in lazy, precise patterns. Motion sensors. Private security. Walls topped with decorative iron that still cut deep.
And at Hillside's heart, overlooking everything -- Wayne Manor.
The Navigator's red thread pointed straight into that wealth. Into that danger.
Jake followed along the rooftops, staying parallel to Selina's path. The architecture shifted beneath him. Crumbling apartments gave way to renovated brownstones. Graffiti disappeared. Even the streetlights worked here.
Selina moved like she knew the route by heart. No hesitation. No checking her surroundings beyond tactical awareness.
She reached the border -- a commercial street that separated Gotham proper from Hillside's gated communities. She paused at the corner, one hand against brick, breathing controlled.
Jake watched from above. She was bracing herself. Whatever waited ahead, she knew it wouldn't be easy.
Her fingers found the whip, checking it was secure. Then her hand went to something at her collar -- small, hidden. She clutched it, lingering.
Jake's spider-sense hummed faintly with anticipation.
Selina straightened, rolled her shoulders despite the obvious pain, and moved forward.
Toward Hillside. Toward whatever she was running from. Or running toward.
Jake made his choice.
He dropped.
His landing was soundless, twenty feet behind her. She kept walking, oblivious.
"Going somewhere?"
Selina stopped. Didn't turn. Her shoulders tensed.
"You know," she said, voice steady despite the situation, "most men take a hint after the second rejection."
"Good thing I'm not most men." Jake stepped closer. "Also, I'm not here for a date."
She turned slowly. Her goggles reflected his masked face in stereo. Behind them, her eyes were calculating, measuring distances, exits, options.
"How did you find me?" Not accusatory. Genuinely curious.
"Not important." Jake's hand twitched near his wrist. "What matters is you have something I want. And there's nowhere you can go that I won't find you."
Catwoman's jaw set. Her hand drifted to her whip, fingertips grazing the handle. Not threatening yet. Just ready.
"Is that so?" She tilted her head.
Straightened. Her shoulders fell, relaxing. Ready to do what she did best -- deceive.
"I don't have the money. Not here." She said.
"But the money's safe. Still in Gotham." Her voice shifted, became businesslike. "I can tell you where and how to get to it. If you tell me how you keep finding me."
Jake stared at her. Then he did laugh -- short, sharp, humorless.
"I'm insulted you think I'd fall for that."
"What's not to believe?" Catwoman said, hands open. "Two million dollars and you'll never see me again. Easy trade."
"You said you can find me anywhere, right?" She stepped closer, confident. "Why don't you come after me if I tell a lie?"
"You'll be long gone by then."
Her step faltered. Just slightly. But Jake saw it.
"What?" Jake's voice dropped lower, harder. "You think I don't know you don't have the money?"
Selina's hand closed fully around the whip now. Her posture shifted -- relaxed confidence becoming coiled readiness.
"The thing is," Jake continued, "I did a little digging into why you were at Dixon this morning. And I found out something quite interesting. Those dock workers can get real chatty after a little persuasion."
Her fingers tightened on the whip's handle. Knuckles white even through the gloves.
"There's a container leaving at dusk. Looks like an ordinary freight container -- electronics manifest, bound for Blüdhaven. Standard cargo." Jake took another step. "But inside? Climate control. Bench seating. Hidden panel entry. That's not cargo transport, Selina. That's people smuggling. High-end. The kind that costs expensive to buy safe passage out of Gotham."
The goggles hid her eyes, but her mouth tightened. Her breathing changed -- faster, shallower.
"Question is," Jake said, "what are you running from? And what does it have to do with the ring in your possession?"
For three seconds, nothing moved. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Then Selina's voice came out cold as winter. "How did you know about the ring?"
"Does it matter?"
"He sent you, didn't he?" Her hand was on the whip's grip now, ready to draw. "What did he promise you? Money? Information? Whatever it was, he's lying."
"Nobody sent me."
"I don't believe you."
"I don't care."
Selina's jaw clenched. Her other hand came up, placating, warning. "Fair warning, thief to thief--"
"Hey, I'm not a--"
"Whatever he promised you," she talked over him, voice urgent now, almost desperate, "he will try to get back on his word. The ring isn't worth what he'll do to collect on it. Trust me."
Jake's chest tightened. Her fear was real. Whoever "he" was had her genuinely scared.
But it didn't change anything.
"It doesn't matter," Jake said. "Give it to me."
"It's my only insurance policy." Selina's voice cracked slightly. "You understand that? Without it, I'm dead. It's the only thing keeping me alive."
"Then we have a problem."
"You'll have to kill me to get it."
Jake studied her. The set of her shoulders. The tremor in her hands. The desperation bleeding through every word.
Her problem -- not his.
The thought came easier than it should have. When had he started thinking like this? Like the villains he'd been stealing from?
Didn't matter. The timer was running.
"The ring." He emphasized, voice cold. Not backing down. The conversation was over.
Her expression shifted. Fear became fury.
"Fine."
The whip cracked out.
Jake's spider-sense screamed. He jerked left. The whip's tip scored the pavement where he'd been standing, leaving a gouge in concrete.
"You know you can't beat me," Jake said.
Selina didn't answer. She was already moving.
She came in fast, whip coiling and striking in precise patterns -- high, low, feint, strike. Jake dodged, barely relying on his Spidersense.
But she was good -- better than he'd expected while injured.
Jake ducked under a horizontal slash.
The whip reversed mid-strike, wrapping around his ankle. She yanked hard, trying to sweep his leg.
Jake jumped, flipping over the pull. His hand shot out, webbing her whip and yanking back.
She let go rather than be pulled off balance. Drew a knife from her boot in the same motion. Small, curved, wicked sharp.
"I tried to warn you," she hissed.
She lunged, blade leading. Fast. Precise. Aiming for his shoulder -- disabling, not killing, but serious.
Jake sidestepped. Her momentum carried her past him. He could have webbed her then, ended it clean.
But his hand hesitated.
The laser trap. Her body against his. When was the last time anyone looked at him like that?
That hesitation almost cost him.
Selina spun, blade reversing, cutting upward toward his ribs. Jake twisted, felt the edge catch his suit. The fabric tore. The blade grazed skin underneath -- shallow, stinging.
His hesitation evaporated.
Jake caught her wrist mid-strike. His grip was enhanced-strength, inescapable. Her eyes widened behind the goggles.
"Stop," he said quietly.
She drove her knee toward his stomach. Jake blocked with his free hand, absorbed the impact. She tried to twist free, using her whole body as leverage.
It didn't work. His strength was too much.
"Don't make me hurt you," Jake said.
"Then let me GO!"
She threw her weight backward, trying to break his grip through momentum. Jake held on. She swung her free hand, claws out -- the gloves had reinforced fingertips, designed to climb and cut.
Jake caught that wrist too.
Now she was trapped. Both wrists held, facing him, breathing hard. Her goggles were centimeters from his mask.
"The ring," Jake said. "That's all I want. Give it to me and this is over."
"Never."
She tried to headbutt him. Jake saw it coming, turned his face. Her forehead glanced off his temple -- still hurt, but not disabling.
The ring was her lifeline.
Pure survival instinct had taken over. She kicked, twisted, tried to bite through his suit. Every move desperate, feral, terrified.
Jake's chest ached. Not from her attacks. From something worse.
His eyes flicked, conflicted. Time Bank: 01:27:34. Nineteen hours gone.
He was going to have to hurt her. Really hurt her. Because she wouldn't stop, and he couldn't let her go.
His grip tightened on her wrists. Just enough pressure to make the point.
She gasped, pain flashing across her face.
"I'm sorry," Jake said.
And he meant it.
He webbed her wrists together in one smooth motion, binding them in sticky strands. Before she could kick, he webbed her ankles too. She tried to struggle, but the webs held.
Jake lowered her to the ground, not rough, but firm. She landed on her knees, wrists bound before her, breathing ragged.
"Where is it?" Jake asked.
Her jaw set. Defiant silence.
Jake's hand moved toward her collar. The hidden pocket he'd seen her touch earlier. Somewhere to store something small. Valuable.
"Don't--"
His fingers found the seam. Found the pocket. Found the ring.
He pulled it free.
Golden band. Simple. Unadorned. But heavy. The weight wasn't physical -- it was something else. Presence. Importance.
The Navigator's pulse cut off. The red thread disappeared. The hunger satisfied.
Selina stared at the ring in his hand. Her expression crumbled. Fear. Desperation. Something close to grief.
"Please," she whispered. "You don't know what you're doing. He'll kill me."
"Who--"
A sound cut through the night.
Not loud. Just a displacement of air. A presence that made Jake's spider-sense spike hard.
He looked up.
His gaze held, reading the form silhouetted against the Gotham skyline. It stood on the roof edge above them.
Cape spread like wings. Eyes invisible behind white lenses.
He wasn't imagining it, was he?
That was--
Batman dropped.
Not jumped. Dropped. Like gravity was a suggestion he chose to obey.
Jake's heart stopped. Then hammered so hard he thought his ribs would crack.
Every instinct screamed RUN. Every muscle locked. His breath caught in his throat.
Batman -- the urban legend himself -- landed between Jake and Selina. The pavement vibrated - almost cracking from impact.
Didn't make a sound beyond that.
"Step away from her." Batman's voice was gravel and threat and absolute authority.
Jake's mouth went dry.
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