LOOTING DC #11. The Spider
Finding - and securing - a secret lair in Gotham wasn't exactly a walk in the park.
The fact that Jake didn't even own an apartment said enough about his current predicament. Just a guy with a growing reputation and absolutely no sense of permanence.
He'd gone over his options.
The most ideal was to make one.
Find an abandoned building - laundromat, subway tunnel, old church - or secretly acquire land and build from scratch. Gotham had no shortage of rotting husks no one cared to remember. Most were rat-infested biohazards, crumbling under their own history. Renovating one would take time, resources, and a kind of patience Jake wasn't sure he possessed.
Alternatively, he could rent out an entire structure and retrofit it into something suitable. Also required time. Also required money.
He'd need to rob a lot of places before either option became viable.
Option two: Raid one.
Find a pre-built lair, already up and running, and eliminate everyone who knew about it. No survivors. No witnesses. No future revenge arcs.
The upside? Instant infrastructure.
The downside? Blood and bodies. He'd have to track down and silence anyone even remotely connected to the place just to keep it secret. It felt a little too extra - even for him. Still, it was tempting.
The real problem was finding one that wasn't already claimed by the Joker, the Riddler, or some third-tier lunatic with a murder maze and a riddle kink.
He wasn't about to walk into an amusement park and get his face stapled into a smile.
...Or was he?
His final option: Skip the subtlety.
Claim a chunk of the city. Go loud. Become a crime boss overnight.
It had perks - money, territory, henchmen calling him "boss" without irony.
But it also came with capes. Cops. Headlines.
Every Bat, bird, and bored vigilante would be on his ass by the end of the week.
Not exactly original in Gotham, but it would definitely keep things interesting.
Jake exhaled as he settled into a hidden crevice on an old maintenance platform overlooking Gotham's bridge.
It was almost two days now since the bridge incident. The memory of his rookie actions still gave him cringe.
Rusted girders framed the skyline, casting jagged shadows across his view. Below, the bridge stretched like a scar, stitching one broken piece of the city to another.
Gotham was massive. There had to be room for him.
The thought of leaving for somewhere easier - somewhere shinier, like Metropolis - had all but faded. Gotham had its grime, sure, but it was a diamond in the rough. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Full of potential.
He could operate from here and affect the world.
Sitting on the ledge, mask on - mostly for the ventilation - Jake set his bag down beside him. His spider-sense pulsed faintly. Not danger. Just… hunger. In every sense of the word.
He could go for a home-cooked meal right about now. Maybe he was getting nostalgic, but something made with that cheesy ingredient called love? That would've hit the spot. Would've grounded him. Made this filthy city feel more like… home.
This wretched world.
How did he even get here?
Jake still didn't know. Wasn't really looking for answers either. Just being here felt like a privilege. And in such an awesome way, no less.
He had dreams. Ambitions. Encounters he couldn't wait to dive into. Experiences he wanted to chase. Life suddenly felt brighter. He wanted to live. And in this world - with its rules, its power, its multiverse - he could live forever without ever getting bored.
He was chasing the thrill.
That's why he couldn't afford to stumble his way through it. He needed direction. Strategy. Precision.
A base would give him control.
Leveling up would ensure his survival.
Everything else would follow.
A stretched yawn escaped him. A snack would've been nice - but he didn't have the time. He needed to focus. Solve the base problem first.
He flicked a web line toward his bag and yanked the laptop out. It came tumbling chaotically, dragging half the contents with it. Files scattered across the platform.
He sighed and glanced over them lazily. One label caught his eye:
RED HOOD FILES – UNCONFIRMED IDENTITIES
"Hmh. Almost forgot about those." He gathered the spilled files and the bag, brushing off some dust. He'd snagged them from the BatCave - along with a lot of others. Breakouts from Arkham. Psychological profiles on Gotham's worst. Intel on politicians, officials, backdoor deals. But most importantly, an overview of the city itself.
What better way to understand Gotham than to read Batman's homework?
"Let's see…" Jake muttered, a grin forming as he picked up the Red Hood file and powered on the laptop. "What dirt do you have on Mr. Edgy Helmet."
Time to get to work.
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The silence during the ride was suffocating. No one spoke, but it was clear - they were all thinking about the same thing.
The Team had been assigned a sensitive mission: escorting dismantled parts of the Amazo android to S.T.A.R. Labs. Two convoys had been arranged - one a decoy, the other carrying the real payload - each taking separate routes to different lab branches across the East Coast.
To maximize security and reduce the risk of interception, the Team was split.
Robin rode with Superboy, flanking the lead transport van - the one carrying the actual Amazo components. Their bikes were matte black, silent, and fast, keeping pace as their tinted helmets scanned for trouble. The route wound through the outskirts of Gotham.
Meanwhile, Kid Flash, Miss Martian, and Aqualad tailed the decoy transport. Different road, same tension. Both squads were on high alert.
What made things worse was that no one had expected to be assigned a mission at all - especially not after the disaster the night before.
The Batcave had been broken into. And the Team had been there when it happened. And they'd been completely outmatched.
They'd expected the worst from Batman. That he'd disband them. Ship them off to train under the League's most brutal mentors. Maybe Siberia. Or Green Arrow.
Instead, he'd done the unthinkable: handed them a top-tier mission, one that could go sideways fast.
Amazo had taken the Justice League eight hours to bring down. The Justice League.
Batman had walked into the wrecked Batcave that night looking like he'd gone ten rounds with Doomsday - bruised, battered, and burned out. And then he'd just… stared. At the ruined systems. At the two unauthorized teams. At the mess.
And without a word, he'd ordered everyone out.
Now, riding through the outskirts of Gotham in near silence, that unspoken tension returned.
"So…" Kid Flash's voice crackled through comms, trying to slice through the thick silence. "Batman seemed… pretty chill last night. Somehow that feels worse."
No one answered.
"I'm serious. I'd take an all-out Bat-scolding over whatever that was."
"What do you think he'll do when we get back?" Superboy asked. His voice was low, aimed mostly at the one who knew Batman best.
Robin didn't hesitate. "He'll make us bleed for disobeying a direct order." His tone was calm, clipped. "The only way out is excellence."
"I'm expecting hell," he added coldly. "You all should."
"You don't really think he'll punish us that badly, do you?" Miss Martian asked, voice edged with real concern.
"I'm with Robin," Kaldur said, grim as stone. "Batman was calm… too calm. Like watching a dam crack. That wasn't mercy. That was the warning before the flood."
"Not killing us will be mercy," he muttered.
"Whoa," Kid Flash chimed in. "Kaldur. Buddy. I have no words."
"See? Kaldur understands," Robin cut in. "Only a true warrior can appreciate the weight of failure."
"Do I need to point out the obvious?" Kid Flash said. "We failed because you got caught in The Spider's web."
"You don't have to remind me," Robin said, teeth clenched. "I will remove his head for attempting to execute me."
"Twice," Superboy reminded, not without a trace of a smirk.
"Knowing you," Kid Flash muttered, "that's probably not a metaphor."
Robin's gauntlet gave a soft ping. He checked it, voice shifting to something darker - focused, pleased.
"Seems I'm getting an early workout." He edged on his bike. "We've got incoming. Multiple hostiles. Small. Fast. Airborne."
Superboy's head snapped left. "There."
From the treetops, dozens of robotic shapes exploded into view - skittering, gleaming, and loud.
They didn't descend. They dived.
Their limbs unfolded mid-air like spring-loaded blades, claws flashing in the light.
Each moved with unnerving speed, all clicking metal and glowing optics - silent only in the way a storm might pause before impact.
"M.O.N.Q.I.s," Robin growled. "They're after the van. Team B, stay on alert."
"Hey!" Kid Flash snapped. "Who said we're Team B-"
But the comms were already dead.
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