Consumed by thought, Jake didn't even notice the sun dipping low over Gotham, staining the skyline in shades of bruised purple and burnt orange. But he felt evening creeping in, stretching shadows long and thin like fingers reaching for him.
His webs snapped taut against rusted lampposts and cracked ledges, catapulting him across rooftops like a deranged yo-yo. But it wasn't just the usual reckless thrill driving him tonight. No, tonight had a special kind of stupidity stitched into it.
"I'm telling you, Jake, this is insane," he muttered to himself, flipping lazily through the air before landing on the edge of an old water tower. The metal groaned under his weight, but he barely noticed - his eyes were locked on the horizon.
There it was.
Wayne Manor.
It sat nestled like some brooding monument to wealth and bad life choices, its pristine structure framed by the dying light. He'd seen pictures before - lousy comic drawings, vague animations, obsessive online theories. But standing here, actually looking at it… it felt different. Bigger. More real. The kind of real that had teeth and knew exactly where to bite.
"It's bigger than I thought," Jake whispered, scanning the sprawling estate. 'How the hell am I supposed to find the master bedroom in that place?'
"More reason not to break into the house of a guy whose part-time hobby is creatively rearranging people's bones," he muttered. But he stayed rooted to the spot.
He exhaled sharply, hands on his hips like that would somehow make this feel less suicidal.
"Jake, this is stupid," he repeated, because maybe saying it out loud would trigger some long-dormant self-preservation instinct. "You're about to break into Wayne. Freaking. Manor."
A laugh slipped out - short, breathless, edged with something manic. "What's next? Tea with Darkseid? Brunch with Lobo?"
The wind didn't have any good answers.
His brain helpfully chimed in: Well, at least Batman won't kill you.
Jake snorted. Comforting. Yeah, sure. He'll just break every bone in my body and toss me into Arkham like a party favor. And then what? Break out of Arkham? Easy, right? Just a little jailbreak - no big deal.
His thoughts spiraled like his swings - chaotic, fast, and with no clear landing point. He pictured himself in one of Arkham's cramped cells, probably stuck next to some guy named Stabby Steve, plotting an escape with nothing but a paperclip and a roll of duct tape.
'Maybe I should binge the next season of Prison Break instead.'
"Nah," he whispered, shaking his head. "Screw that." (Not the series. I hear it's okay.)
He forced his mind to clear, tension coiling tight in his chest. He was here for a reason. A dumb, reckless, probably-leads-to-early-grave reason - but a reason nonetheless. Once you make up your mind, there's no going back. You see it through. Stupid, smart, or somewhere in between.
Jake's mission tonight was simple: raid Bruce Wayne's mansion, find that piano key - yeah, the one from all those cartoons - and use it to sneak into the Batcave. (Spoiler alert: Bruce Wayne is Batman. Shocking, right? Bet you didn't know.)
The plan sounded solid. Until he actually saw Wayne Manor.
Now? He realized he had absolutely no clue where to find the damn piano.
"Best hope Bruce isn't a weird piano collector," Jake muttered, as if that would somehow boost his confidence. Spoiler: it didn't.
Originally, Plan A had involved sneaking through Gotham's underground tunnels with a set of rat-chewed blueprints. According to lore knowledge (because that's totally reliable), the Batcave was always connected to hidden tunnels. Problem was, the blueprints didn't have a convenient label like "BATCAVE: ENTER HERE." Add in the fact that Gotham's rats had treated the blueprints like an all-you-can-eat buffet, and… yeah. Not exactly helpful.
At best, they were a guide to getting lost. At worst? A map straight into the lair of some mutated sewer rat king.
So… Plan B.
Break into Wayne Manor.
Because obviously that was the smarter option.
Jake latched onto a nearby utility pole, crouching low as he scanned the estate. The manor was gargantuan - like someone looked at a regular mansion and said, "But what if it was extra?" Towers, balconies, windows - too many points of entry, none screaming, "Break in here!"
His heart pounded, adrenaline buzzing like static under his skin.
He breathed, slowly. Focusing.
This was it. He was going to break in. Do exactly what he had set out to do. And prove that he is superior.
This was his shot at redemption after last night's mess.
Tightening his grip on the pole, Jake abandoned all manner of caution and wory. And then he launched.
Soaring, he flipped once, twice - more out of habit than necessity - before launching a webline that snapped taut, slinging him toward Wayne Manor.
Up close, it was even worse. The place wasn't just big; it was imposing, like it knew it was better than you. Gothic architecture with sharp edges, high arching windows, and assertive stone walls.
Landing softly on a balcony ledge, he crouched low, eyes scanning for the best entry point. His spider-sense buzzed faintly - not in warning, just a quiet hum of heightened awareness. He liked to think of it as the universe's way of clearing its throat.
Alright, Jake. Think.
Below, through one of the lower windows, he spotted a woman in uniform dusting an old cabinet - probably staff. Good. That means Bruce's room wouldn't be anywhere near there. Rich people always have their rooms tucked away from the help, right?
He shifted his gaze to the East Wing. Bingo. The windows were darker there, curtains drawn, lights dim. Felt… private. And if Bruce Wayne had a bedroom, it'd be there.
Jake skittered up the wall with ease, stickiness be his... what? Webbing helped where gravity wanted to argue. When he reached a window that felt right - slightly ajar, minimal light leaking through - he paused.
What are the odds Bruce is home?
Hopefully out punching crime in the face somewhere.
With careful precision, Jake slid the window open just enough to slip inside, landing silently on the polished wooden floor. His spider-sense didn't scream, which was nice. But it did itch faintly at the base of his skull, like an unseen mosquito buzzing just out of reach.
Stay sharp.
He was in an expansive bedroom. The kind of room that could house a small apartment and still have space left over for an existential crisis. Minimalist décor. Dark furniture. No personal photos - just art that probably cost more than Jake's entire existence.
No piano, though.
Good. The piano's usually outside the bedroom anyway.
Creeping toward the door, Jake pressed his ear against the polished wood. Nothing. No footsteps, no voices. Just the faint hum of something electrical.
Security, probably.
Of course.
He cracked the door open a sliver. Beyond was a corridor that might as well have been its own room - wide, carpeted, lined with old portraits glaring down at him like they knew exactly what he was up to.
Jake didn't linger. He crawled straight up the wall and onto the ceiling, moving with the silent grace of someone who'd spent way too much time avoiding detection. His eyes darted from corner to corner, spotting tiny surveillance cameras tucked into the architecture - sleek, discreet, very Batman.
Gotta love the Dark Knight's thoroughness paranoia.
But Jake had one advantage Batman's cameras couldn't counter: he wasn't bound by the floor.
Crawling along the ceiling beams, he advanced cautiously, his spider-sense guiding him away from any suspiciously over-designed technology.
His patience paid off when he finally saw it.
A piano.
Elegant, black, polished to a mirror shine, sitting in an open hall just outside what had to be the master suite. Well, wouldn't you know.
Jake felt lucky. Maybe he was.
He descended slowly, his fingertips and toes anchoring him to the ceiling until he dropped down, landing in a crouch with barely a whisper of sound. He approached the piano like it might bite, his spider-sense on a low simmer.
Reaching out, he instinctually, calculatively and psychologically pressed one of the middle keys.
A faint click echoed beneath the floorboards.
Gotcha.
But before he could savor his small victory, his spider-sense screamed.
Jake spun, instinctively flipping backward just as a hidden panel in the wall slid open - revealing a sleek, automated turret swiveling toward him, red light blinking to life.
"Aw, come on!" Jake groaned, diving behind the piano as the turret spat out a rapid burst of non-lethal rounds - rubber bullets, probably, but probably wasn't a bet he was willing to take.
Speaking of probabilities...
'Probably shouldn't have pressed the button psychologically,' Jake reeled as he fired a web at the turret, yanking hard. Sparks flew as it crumpled into itself, short-circuiting with a satisfying hiss.
So much for Plan B.
Jake didn't wait for a sequel. He darted toward the section of floor that had clicked earlier, feeling for any sign of a hidden mechanism.
'...both systems have to be interconnected, for efficiency reasons...' Jake was thinking in overdrive. His mind mapping out engineering design sketches he didn't know about. But somehow, they were telling him what to do.
And it seemed to work as his fingers brushed against an edge. He wanted to pull it (psychologically appealing), but instinct guided him to push. A hidden panel on the wall slid open, revealing a narrow passage descending into darkness.
For a moment, he waited for something like a capsule to pull up. But nothing happened. And so...
He slipped inside before he could second guess himself.
🕸️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕸️
The days had begun to blur together for Young Justice. Weeks had passed since their transition from sidekicks to full-fledged heroes - and all they'd managed since then was break into Cadmus, cause chaos in Santa Prisca, and camp out at Mount Justice. The thrill of their first victories had faded, leaving them trapped in a perpetual cycle of waiting with nothing to do but pass the time.
Kid Flash zoomed into the kitchen, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips as he rifled through the cabinets. "Even the snacks are running out," he muttered, surveying the pitiful crumbs left behind. A spark of triumph flashed across his face when he spotted the last pack of chips, and he snatched it up faster than the eye could follow.
With his prize in hand, he raced down the hallway - passing Kaldur in a practice room and Miss Martian and Superboy in the common room. "Anything new yet, Robin?" he called out, his voice brimming with energy.
Robin was hunched over a computer, his fingers flying over the keys with an intensity only he could muster. "Nothing," he replied without looking up. The monitor displayed dozens of notifications, most emblazoned with warning symbols. Something was wrong.
Oblivious to the gravity of Robin's screen, Kid Flash's impatience grew. "Come on, man, we've got to do something. Even a mission or - I don't know - a training session. Anything but this." He gestured at the empty halls of Mount Justice.
Before Robin could respond, he abruptly stood with purpose, as if ready to teleport through a Boom Tube. But a soft beep interrupted him. His comm unit flashed a secure signal, and Batman's strained voice crackled through the speaker - as though he were in the midst of a world-ending fight.
"Ongoing… Suspicious… SUPERMAN NOW!…" Batman struggled to brief, his words punctuated by a loud bang and the clash of combat in the background. Robin deduced that his mentor was engaged in serious League business - a clash that would later reportedly last eight straight hours against a formidable menace.
"Someone's infiltrated the BatCave," Batman managed to say, his tone leaving little room for debate. It was clear he assumed Robin was already aware of the stakes, as his next words shifted from caution to command:
"Infiltration was through point Alpha. The culprit is highly knowledgeable and dangerous. Do not move to investigate." His comm nearly clipped out, but he reiterated intently, "I repeat: Stay put."
Then the line went dead.
For a long, tense moment, Robin stood motionless - intensity etched across his face - as everyone who had overheard the conversation turned their eyes toward him. Finally, Kid Flash broke the silence. "Get any ideas?"