Gotham Arc #15.
Carmine Heights didn't belong in Gotham.
Jake crouched on a limestone balustrade two blocks away, studying the estate through his mask's lenses.
Where the rest of the city rotted and decayed, Falcone's mansion gleamed like a threat. White stone. Manicured hedges shaped into geometric perfection. Floodlights that turned night into sterile day. Even the iron gates looked freshly painted, black lacquer catching the light like oil.
Old money. Blood money. The kind that bought legitimacy through generations of violence until people forgot the bodies buried in the foundation.
His spider-sense hummed low -- background radiation from the security measures Selina had warned him about.
"Twelve exterior guards on rotating patrol," she'd said an hour ago, sketching the layout on soil with a stubby stick. "Motion sensors on the east wall, but they're calibrated for ground approach. We go over."
Jake had watched her work, fascinated despite himself. This wasn't just planning: it was art. Every guard rotation memorized. Every blind spot cataloged. She'd robbed this place once already; the second time was just refining the technique.
"Cameras?"
"Sixteen external. Twenty-three internal." She'd tapped on the ground, indicating the conservatory. "But there's a gap here. Old wiring. Falcone's been meaning to upgrade for months."
"How do you know that?"
Her smile had been sharp. "I make it my business to know."
That's when Jake had understood. Catwoman wasn't just a thief. She was a researcher. Every job was intelligence gathering for the next. Every escape route memorized for the inevitable return.
Vintage. He was learning from a legend.
"The locket," he'd said. "Where exactly?"
Her expression had shifted, something vulnerable bleeding through the professional mask. "I was compromised in the master suite. Second floor, northwest corner. It dropped inside, by the window."
"And if they found it?"
"Falcone keeps personal items in the study. First floor, southwest. Safe behind the Canaletto painting: combination's his daughter's birthday backwards." She'd paused, jaw working. "I know it sounds stupid, but it means the world to me."
Jake had met her eyes.
"I don't think it's stupid to have something you cherish," he'd said quietly.
Her breath had caught. Just for a moment. Then she'd nodded and kept planning.
"Escape route?"
"South service entrance. Leads to the gardens, then the perimeter wall. We'll need to avoid the main hall entirely -- too many staff, too much exposure. And the wine cellar's out."
"Why?"
"Panic room entrance. Motion-activated steel doors. You get caught down there, you're not getting out."
Good intel. Life-saving intel. The kind you only learned by nearly dying.
Selina had paused then, chewing her lip.
"There's something else. The guard rotations changed three days ago. Tighter. More frequent. And they installed new cameras in the east wing." Her fingers had tightened around the stick. "Could be nothing. Could be standard security upgrade."
"Or?"
"Or he knows someone's coming back for something." Her voice had gone quiet. "But we don't have a choice. If I leave Gotham without it..."
She hadn't finished the sentence. Didn't need to.
Jake had studied her face. The desperation there. The fear.
"Then we go anyway," he'd said.
She'd nodded, grateful and terrified in equal measure.
Now, perched above Hillside with Gotham's decay at his back and Falcone's kingdom ahead, Jake pulled up the interface.
The Roman Ring sat heavy in his palm, warm metal against his glove. The system pulsed, patient, waiting for his decision.
🕷️
[Totem collected!]
Category: Rare
Reward: +72h to your Time Bank
Redeem totem to receive reward? (Y/N)
🕸️
Seventy-two hours. Adding to his current brought his Time Bank to: 02:35:56 -- nearly seven full days. The number thrilled him -- safety and progress.
So why was he stalling?
The Bonus Reward. That's what made him hesitate.
A tag between two options: Totem Icon or Mystery Reward.
The smart play was obvious. Consume the ring now, take the Totem Icon, find his next target faster. Efficiency over curiosity.
But the Mystery Reward from a Rare totem had to be better than the Classic suit from an Uncommon. Had to be.
And if--
His jaw tightened behind the mask.
If he found Selina's locket. If it registered as a totem. If he chose to keep it for himself.
Then he could redeem the ring for the Mystery Reward and the locket for the Totem Icon. Both prizes. Clean solution.
The thought made his stomach turn.
She trusted him. Actually trusted him. And here he was calculating how to betray that.
His teeth clenched.
No. He'd made a choice when he said he'd help her. He'd see it through.
But carrying the ring into Carmine Heights was worse. Falcone would be desperate, prepared, dangerous. This was his totem; his symbol of power. If Jake lost it in there...
No. He had to have faith the interface didn't require immediate bonus selection.
Jake's thumb hovered over the mental command.
"Redeem totem."
The ring flared golden-white in his hand. Light spread from band to band, consuming the metal in radiant fire that didn't burn. The weight disappeared, transforming into thousands of firefly specks that drifted toward him like snow falling upward.
They sank into his chest, his arms, his core. Warmth. Satisfaction. Safety.
Behind him, heels stopped on concrete. Took one step back.
Jake heard the catch of breath; the involuntary retreat. He looked over his shoulder as the last motes of light absorbed into his body.
Selina stood frozen, one hand raised slightly like she'd been reaching for something. Her goggles reflected the fading golden glow. Behind them, her eyes were wide.
Searching. Trying to categorize what she'd just witnessed. Magic? Tech? Mutation?
The light died completely.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by distant traffic and Gotham's ever-present sirens.
Jake dropped.
"Curious?" He asked.
Selina blinked. Shook herself. Took one deliberate step forward, then another, until she stood beside him again.
"Not really," she said. But her voice was careful. Controlled.
She brushed past him, moving toward the edge where Carmine Heights waited below. Ready. Committed. But her fingers trembled slightly against her whip.
"It's none of my business," Selina said. Her tone was light, dismissive, but Jake caught the way her head tilted, just slightly, like she was fighting the urge to look back. "You've already shown me you're not ordinary. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't bleed."
"Good," Jake said, following. "Let's go."
🕸️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕸️
The gap in the security grid was exactly where Selina said it would be.
They dropped into the conservatory through a skylight, Jake's webbing making the descent silent. Glass and chrome and exotic plants that probably cost more than most Gotham families earned in a year. The air was humid, thick with the smell of orchids and old money.
Two guards passed outside, flashlight beams cutting through foliage.
Jake and Selina pressed against the wall, motionless, barely breathing.
The beams moved on.
"Northwest corner," Selina whispered. "Stay close."
They moved through the mansion like ghosts. Every step placed with precision. Every shadow exploited. Selina led, her body language screaming professional competence -- this was her element, her domain.
Jake followed, learning.
The master suite door was unlocked. Careless. Or confident.
Inside: silk sheets, imported furniture, a window overlooking the gardens. Selina went straight to the window frame, fingers searching the sill.
Nothing.
Her jaw tightened. "Plan B. The study."
They backtracked through the hallway. Jake's spider-sense hummed louder now -- they were deeper in, more exposed. His eyes tracked every corner, every potential threat.
The study door was closed but not locked.
Selina's hand hovered over the handle. She glanced at Jake, something uncertain in her expression. "Last chance to reconsider."
"Open it."
She did.
The hinges were oiled. Silent.
Inside -- empty.
Moonlight streamed through tall windows. Mahogany desk. Leather chairs. The Canaletto painting Selina had mentioned. But no guards. No Falcone.
Just silence.
Jake's spider-sense hummed. Not danger. Wrongness.
"It's too easy," Selina whispered.
Behind them, a voice like gravel wrapped in silk:
"Is it?"
They spun.
Carmine Falcone stood in the doorway they'd just entered.
In his hand, a locket caught the light.
And behind him, six guards with guns drawn.
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