LOOTING DC #4. The Cave Heist
Jake landed in a crouch, hands splayed against the cold stone floor. His breathing was steady, but his mind raced.
The BatCave.
The actual, honest-to-God, Batman's secret lair.
It took him a second to register. The place was massive - part cathedral, part tech lab, part underground fortress. A cavernous expanse of rock and steel, lit by eerie blue holographic displays and the soft hum of something definitely not running on batteries.
Platforms stretched across multiple levels, disappearing into shadow. Somewhere, water cascaded from an unseen source, its distant roar adding to the cave's overwhelming presence. This place breathed power, intimidation - like stepping into the lair of something far bigger than just one man.
Jake swallowed.
Holy shit. I'm in the BatCave.
For a brief, fleeting moment, the sheer weight of the situation settled in. A legend lived here. Worked here. Operated like an unholy specter of justice. And here he was, trespassing.
His Spider-Sense remained quiet.
Great. No batarangs hailing my way.
Yet.
A turret whirred to life.
Never mind.
Jake moved.
A sharp burst of motion - his body twisting as bullets whizzed past, feeling more serious than the ones upstairs. Batman didn't play to kill, but he did play to win. Jake flipped mid-air, webbing the turret and yanking with a satisfying snap of metal.
Then something hissed open.
A barrage of objects launched - sleek, fast. He dodged instinctively, twisting, flipping, webbing away - until he caught a glimpse of them.
Batarangs.
Of course. He snapped his wrist, shooting a web to the ceiling. He pulled himself up just as the first few exploded below him. Batman doesn't leave home without them.
That's when the smoke grenades rolled in.
Jake caught them in the corner of his eye and hesitated. Turrets, bats, taser traps, sure, but grenades? That felt… different.
An AI using smoke tactics?
Then a second thought slammed into his brain-
I don't have time for this!
He needed to find a machine.
Swinging away from the chaos, he scanned the cave - rows of consoles, the Batmobile, armories, crime files-
The Batmobile!?
Jake forced himself to focus, shifting his gaze toward what looked like a freaking trophy room. But where did Batman make his suit?
Ting!
Jake moved on instinct before he even processed what was happening. He twisted, lowering himself just as something - no, someone - sliced the air above him. A boot? Italian leather? He barely registered the flash of movement before his Spider-Sense flared again.
Another attack.
No hesitation. This time, he launched himself back, twisting in midair, flipping, snapping two webs behind him for cover. He landed, light on his feet, already bracing.
Okay, Jake, this is your moment.
Except-
There was no one there.
No sign of movement. No sound. No shifting shadows beyond the endless abyss of the cave. It was eerily silent, like stepping into a predator's den and realizing you were the prey. His heartbeat quickened.
The cave was big - way bigger than he'd expected - but he wasn't about to believe his attacker had just… disappeared.
Definitely Batman. Classic predator tactics.
Jake turned, scanning. Rock. Consoles. Vehicles. The faint hum of tech in the background. No sign of-
Spider-Sense. Roaring.
Jake twisted-
Clink!
A glint of metal. A batarang whizzing toward him. He lashed out, webbing it just in time to send it clattering away, but-
Too late.
The kick slammed into his spine. Hard. His body twisted midair, the impact sending him into a brutal spiral before he caught himself, feet skidding against the stone.
That hurt.
And now, finally, he saw him.
A shadow in the dark.
A figure stood a short distance away, one foot still planted from the kick, his posture rigid yet effortless. Sleeves rolled up. Vest slightly undone. Gloves on. He was dressed impeccably, as if he'd just finished setting out fine china - but the look in his eyes was anything but polite.
Jake stared.
No. Freaking. Way.
"Al-" Jake started, almost gasping.
Not Batman.
Alfred.
Bruce Wayne's butler.
Jake barely had time to process before Alfred moved.
Fast. Precise. No wasted effort. A fist cut through the air - Jake dodged, barely. Another followed, faster. A kick. A knee. Every strike aimed to disable rather than just knock him down.
Jake twisted, reacting on instinct, countering where he could. Alfred's fist grazed past his shoulder - Jake shot a web at his wrist.
Alfred twisted free before it could latch.
Okay, what the hell!?
A kick snapped toward Jake's ribs - he flipped back, landing light, rolling into another stance.
His brain caught up, trying to process what was happening.
Alfred - the butler - was kicking his ass.
Jake didn't know the full extent of the old man's background, but it was clear as day that this wasn't just some guy who polished silverware and refilled tea cups. Maybe he was ex-SAS. Maybe he was the one who taught Bruce before Batman became Batman.
But Jake was done being surprised.
He wasn't about to treat this comic icon like some frail old man.
Alfred came in sharp, precise, with a clean right hook. Jake dipped low, twisting with the fluidity only enhanced reflexes could grant, then retaliated with a lightning-fast upward kick. His foot connected with Alfred's ribs - solid, but the butler didn't fold. He staggered back a step but held his ground.
Fine. Jake could turn up the heat.
He launched himself off his back foot, flipping over Alfred's shoulder mid-air, snapping a web to the ceiling, and using the momentum to slingshot downward - heels-first. The impact cracked the stone beneath Alfred as he barely twisted out of the way.
No hesitation. Jake rebounded, shooting two webs, yanking himself forward with bone-rattling speed - too fast. He closed the gap before Alfred could properly react, ducking under a last-second counter and delivering a brutal spin kick to the temple. The butler barely had time to register the blow before Jake followed up - an aerial flip, another kick to the jaw, then a full-force web strike, sending Alfred crashing into the BatCave floor.
Jake landed lightly, already moving. No hesitation. No mercy.
He shot another web, snapping Alfred's wrist to the ground before he could get up. A second web pinned his other hand. And then - just because he wasn't about to let the guy wriggle free - he spun two more, cocooning Alfred's arms and legs in thick, reinforced webbing.
The butler lay there, breathing heavy but still composed, barely even looking at Jake.
"I gotta admit," Jake muttered, shaking off the adrenaline, "for a guy who probably irons Batman's capes, you put up a hell of a fight."
Alfred exhaled through his nose. "And for a thief with a child's bravado, you lack a fundamental sense of restraint."
Jake tilted his head. "Yeah? Well, I am on a time crunch."
He crouched down, gripping Alfred's collar with one hand. "Where's the suit machine?"
Alfred stared at him, unimpressed. Silent.
Jake sighed. "Right. Stubborn type." He let go, stretching his arms out as he turned toward the cavernous lair around him. "Guess I'll find it myself."
He glanced back at Alfred one more time, considered something maniacal but settled for something more humane. "I don't see you posing any significant future threats so..."
He webbed up Alfred's mouth and moved.
His spider-sense was still quiet - no backup yet. Good. He had some time.
He skimmed past the Batmobile, barely resisting the urge to hop in. A joyride in that thing would be legendary, but he wasn't here for fun.
Still, there was plenty of interesting stuff to swipe.
The armory was stocked with gadgets. Reinforced gauntlets, prototype grappling hooks, modified Batarangs. One case held several variations of Batman's utility belt, each with subtle differences - embedded capsules, reinforced segments, hidden compartments.
Jake stretched his webs and snagged a few choice items.
Then his eyes flicked to a side chamber. A wall of files.
Crime reports. Case logs. Even evidence bags. Gotham's worst, documented in meticulous detail. He skimmed the labels.
JOKER INCIDENT – ARKHAM BREAKOUT
RED HOOD FILES – UNCONFIRMED IDENTITIES
LEAGUE OF ASSASSINS – POTENTIAL ACTIVITY IN GOTHAM
"Damn," he muttered. "Batman really is the paranoid type."
He hesitated.
Not his problem. Not his mission.
And yet…
Swish.
He wrapped a web around a thick handful of documents and yanked them into his growing stash.
Then, finally-
Jackpot.
A workbench, covered in schematics and tools. Not just any tools. Fabricators. Machines designed for high-tech armor modifications.
Blueprints were scattered across the desk. Most were for armored Batman suits - heavy, reinforced, designed for prolonged combat. Not his style.
Jake needed something sleeker. Something built for speed.
Good thing he brought his own design.
Now, the only question was... how to get this thing working?
And how long would that take?
Yeah, that's two questions.
But anyway, Jake couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. This had all been relatively easy so far.
Why did I have to think that? Now I've just jinxed it.
🕸️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕸️
While Jake meticulously dismantled the fabricator, trying to figure out its inner workings without a manual, elsewhere, the Team - as they'd forever call themselves (for lack of a simple brainstorm session) - moved through Gotham's underground tunnels.
"Isn't there, like, a Boom Tube in the BatCave we could use?" Kid Flash grumbled, his impatience growing.
"What are you complaining about? You're a speedster," Robin shot back, clearly irritated.
"That wasn't an answer, Robin," Miss Martian pointed out.
Robin's tone turned sharp. "Well, it's none of your business, is it?"
Before anyone could retort, Robin cut the tension, his voice becoming more measured. "Besides, with the Cave's security already kicking in, the Cave's currently limited."
"What does that mean?" Kaldur asked, his voice calm but curious.
"Infiltration was easy," Robin answered, "but the culprit won't leave so easily."
"And… an EMP could go off at any second, so I'd advise none of you to rely on gadgets," Robin added, his tone more cautious now.
"I think you should be telling yourself that," Superboy chimed in, his gaze pointedly fixed on Robin. "You're the one who relies on tech gadgets."
"Fair enough," Robin admitted with a brief nod.
"What do we know about this guy, anyway?" Kid Flash asked, his curiosity piqued.
Robin tapped a sleek device on his left arm rapidly. A holographic display flared to life, showing a grainy video of a figure in a hoodie flipping, twisting, and shooting webs in what looked like a gothic structure.
"That he's incredibly agile, shoots webs like a spider, he's cautious, and he just beat down Al-" Robin hesitated before continuing, "Batman's drycleaner."
"Batman has a drycleaner?" Kid Flash asked in confusion.
Robin ignored the question, pressing on. "He's either too cocky to worry about the Cave's security, or he doesn't realize it's already locked down. Batman's security's that good."
"What's his motivation?" Kaldur asked, his voice calm but inquisitive.
Robin grimaced, tapping his arm again. "It's hard to say. He managed to tear down the surveillance I was using. Looks like we'll have to learn the hard way."
The team came to a sudden stop as they reached a dead end. Without missing a beat, Robin got to work.