The art style of this city feels… off!
Gwen crouched on the rooftop, holding a stray kitten—she called herself "Little Meow"—while the two of them watched the police wrap a blanket around young Master Bruce.
They zipped Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, and the robber into body bags.
The robber was dead. He had died just minutes earlier.
"You saw it too, right? I only webbed him up and left him lying there. A little while later he was dead, and now the cops want to put out a warrant for me?"
"Mm-hmm. Welcome to Gotham. That's how the police are here."
Little Meow didn't seem surprised at all.
"Whatever. It's not the first time I've taken the fall." Gwen shrugged. She had plenty of experience.
"Don't you have any superheroes around here?"
"What's a superhero?"
"Uh… you know, masked people who have too much free time, help the cops fight crime. People like me."
"Never heard of them. Have you been reading too many comics?"
"No flying aliens in capes?"
"Nope!"
"No children of gods jumping out of myths and legends?"
"Nope!"
"No super-rich guy with a strong sense of justice?"
"I don't know about the justice part, but if we're talking money… the little rich kid you just saved is probably the richest second-generation heir in all of Gotham."
"Hah, that's terrible… I mean, that's great. This place is way better than I imagined."
Little Meow looked at Gwen like she was mentally disabled and curled her lip. "From the way you talk, this must be your first time in Gotham, huh?"
"Yeah. Right now I'm a person with no ID, no job, and no place to stay." Gwen sighed. "Any good suggestions?"
Little Meow looked puzzled. "Do I look like a nun who can offer you a hot bath and a warm bed?"
"Actually, you remind me a lot of an old friend of mine."
Gwen admitted honestly, "Her nickname was Black Cat. She's a thief… calls herself an art connoisseur. Aside from occasionally going into heat and acting horny, she's actually a pretty loyal girl most of the time."
"From the tone of your voice, it doesn't sound like you two were that close."
"Yeah, well, that was before she tried to seduce my boyfriend."
"Um… I still have some milk left. Want to tell the story?"
"No thanks."
Gwen's attention stayed fixed on the rookie cop downstairs.
James Gordon. From his appearance, behavior, and lines, he looked every bit like a main character.
An ordinary person, no superpowers, probably ex-military, upright personality, the kind who easily makes enemies.
He definitely had a beautiful girlfriend or wife who was about to either divorce him or die.
Writers loved that trope. Audiences loved it too.
Of course, none of that mattered right now.
Gwen knew her first priority in this unfamiliar place was to solve the "illegal immigrant + food and shelter" problem.
"You can climb walls and you wear a mask. Why don't you just steal money?"
Little Meow, after finishing her milk, offered enthusiastically, "Actually, I know a few good spots. The security is tight, but if we team up, fifty-fifty split?"
"I don't steal money. I'm a superhero who upholds justice!" Gwen rejected the idea outright, then asked, "Not that I have anything against thieves, but I'm curious—why aren't you out working right now? Why are you squatting here watching the show with me?"
Little Meow stayed silent for a moment, then said softly, "That couple were good people."
"I could tell."
"No, you don't understand." Little Meow continued, "The Waynes have done a lot of charity work. They sponsored orphanages and convents, handed out food to the homeless… and so many other things."
"Mm-hmm. So?"
Little Meow watched the police cars drive away and stayed quiet for a while before shaking her head. "So this winter is probably going to be really tough."
Gwen nodded in deep agreement. She hadn't even brought a change of clothes and was already starting to feel cold.
The little rich kid downstairs looked young and loaded… no, correction—he looked like he needed someone to comfort him.
Web-line fired! Free fall!
The car had only driven a short distance when a dull "thump" sounded on the roof. The old butler slammed on the brakes. A white unidentified object rolled off the front windshield.
"Master Bruce, careful!"
"No, Alfred! She's the one who saved me!"
Gwen climbed up from the hood with some difficulty and looked at the tense old butler holding a gun. She couldn't help complaining, "Seriously, I was just thinking—when you guys go out to watch a movie, you don't drive your own car and you don't bring bodyguards. Is that because you have absolute confidence in the city's security, or are you actually living on a tight budget while pretending to be rich?"
The young master's expression was priceless.
The old butler put away his gun, clasped his hands behind his back, and said very politely, "Miss… White. Although Master Bruce says you saved him, please forgive me for not knowing the full details yet. The police seem to believe you killed that robber."
The young master shouted, "Alfred, she stayed with me the whole time!"
"Thank you for remembering that, Master Bruce." Gwen leaned on the hood and said, "You know I'm in a bit of trouble right now. To put it bluntly, for some technical reasons I'd rather not deal with the police. Could you, as a favor for saving your life, let me stay the night?"
The old butler seemed hesitant, but the young master decisively opened the car door. "Get in!"
Boys this age are like that.
The inside of the car was indeed much warmer. There was even air conditioning and heat. Gwen immediately felt better.
While driving, the old butler watched Gwen through the rear-view mirror and asked in a deep voice, "Miss White, what should I call you?"
"Ghost-Spider!"
"That's a nice codename, but I meant your real name."
"Have you ever heard of Spider-Man?"
"What's that? A comic book character?"
"Ah, perfect. Never mind, just call me Gwen."
As long as she wasn't in the Spider-Verse, Gwen didn't have to worry about getting plot-killed, nor did she need to hide her identity. No one here would know who she was anyway.
"Very well, Miss Gwen."
The old butler cleared his throat and said seriously, "This might sound rude, but… where are your family members? Aren't they worried about you?"
This little white creature didn't look much older than Master Bruce. From her height and voice, she was clearly still a child.
Gwen shrugged. "Even if they are worried, it doesn't help. They're who-knows-how-many universes away."
The old butler: "…"
How was he supposed to continue this conversation?
Gwen felt helpless. People in this era probably couldn't understand the concept of multiversal travel. If she told the truth, they'd just think she was crazy.
"Fine. I'm a rebellious runaway teenager."