LOOTING DC #8. Escaping the BatCave
Open air.
Jake burst out onto the rooftop of Wayne Manor, sucking in a deep breath - then immediately regretting it. Gotham air. Thick, heavy, and full of regrets.
He coughed, shook his head, and launched himself into the night.
Breaking out of the BatCave hadn't been easy. The place was a fortress. But thank god Batman was still human. Almost? He still preferred clean air. And even if that wasn't his reason for installing a ventilation system in the BatCave, it made sense. If you were going to practically live underground and let a bunch of kids play costume, you'd at least want to breathe.
The point was, Batman's contingency for the contingency - an EMP in case of a brute-force break-in, and post-EMP power cells to keep the ventilation running - had been Jake's getaway card.
Specifically, the vents.
Once he'd successfully distracted the Team by practically executing Robin, he'd made his move.
Finding the vents wasn't the hard part - getting inside was. The grates were reinforced, locked tight, and booby-trapped, because of course they were. Enhanced reflexes and strength said, rip the grate free. But the second he did, a sharp hiss of gas filled the air.
That meant move now, breathe later.
One. He bolted into the ductwork.
Two. Hands and knees scraping metal.
Three. The gas was curling at his heels.
He scrambled forward.
Four. Five. Six. Junction ahead. Which way? Which way?
Seven. Vision blurring.
Eight. Come on, come on...
Nine. Left. Upward incline. That had to be the way out.
Ten. If I die from this, I'm haunting Batman's cave rats.
The ducts sloped into a larger vent shaft - wide, open, and leading directly to the real air system. Below, he could hear the Team regrouping, voices muffled through layers of steel.
Butt clench. No time to celebrate.
He crawled up the main shaft, feeling the sharp pain in his ribs courtesy of Superboy. Sweet revenge waiting in the corner? Nope. Just a bloody fantastic vertical climb.
This was the critical part. Batman's ventilation system wasn't just passive airflow - it had active exhaust cycles. Air purged out in timed intervals, likely to prevent build-up of contaminants.
That was Jake's ticket out.
He wedged himself in, braced against the walls, and waited.
A deep, mechanical whirr signaled the start of the cycle. Then - FOOM. The system kicked in.
It was like being yanked by an industrial vacuum. The force ripped him from his position, shooting him through the ductwork like a bullet in a barrel.
Pain. Metal. Bruises.
And then - sky.
He rocketed out of a rooftop vent and landed hard on the Wayne Manor roof, tumbling, coughing, lungs burning. But he was out.
Now, Gotham stretched out before him. A spider suit in one arm - torn but still usable. A ridiculous, massive ego boost for pulling off an impossible heist. However stupid it was.
Now that he thought about it, so much could have gone wrong. What if Batman himself had actually been there? Alfred had been a surprise. The Dark Knight would have been something else entirely.
"Justice for Gotham." Jake muttered a meme imitation, forcing a chuckle despite the adrenaline still making his body shake. The thought of how badly this could've ended refused to leave him.
"Seriously though, Jake," he muttered, trying to ground himself. Trying to stay on course. Trying to accept the fact that his little stunt could've landed him in Arkham. Or worse - if they figured out his secret.
"But more importantly..." Something else was nagging at him. "Come to think of it, Kid Flash asked who I am."
Jake frowned. "I'm obviously not telling them my real name. That's just stupid. But… who am I?"
He swung low, then spun high, feeling the ache in his muscles. Despite everything, the itch of new clothes remained. He badly wanted to try out his suit.
"Would be really nice if I had a place too..."
A name and a place to stay. That was his next move.
Jake swerved toward the subtle little hole-in-the-wall where he'd stashed his laptop and the few meager belongings he had left.
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"That was a burst," Miss Martian observed, brushing dust from her suit as the guys shoveled debris away from Robin.
"We had the upper hand, yet we still lost because of these damn webs," Robin growled, yanking at the sticky strands still wrapped around his limbs. His voice was sharp, clipped - irritation barely contained.
He could move, but the webs refused to dissolve.
"What are they made of?" Kaldur inquired, studying the residue clinging to Robin's gloves. "Even Superboy struggled to break them."
"How should I know!?" Robin snapped, his scowl deepening. His pride was already bruised - he didn't need a lecture.
"Easy there, kid," a new voice - calm, stoic - cut in. "At least you're alive. All of you."
The Team instantly tensed.
"Who's there?!" Kid Flash demanded, electricity cracking under his feet.
"There's more." Superboy clenched his fists, eyes scanning the darkness.
Robin's gazed in the darkness. He exhaled sharply. "Nightwing."
A figure framed itself in the darkness.
"Didn't think you'd call it so quick, little brother," Nightwing said smoothly. "But you and your crew look like you got wrecked."
Robin's eye twitched. "We had it under control."
"Sure you did."
"Oooooh," Kid Flash muttered under his breath. This was about to be fun.
Superboy frowned. "Wait. What's going on?"
Miss Martian huh-ed.
Kaldur took the liberty to explain to the two newest team members. "The Titans are here."
Right on cue, lights flickered and stabilized in the BatCave - illuminating more figures standing just beyond the wreckage.
Young Justice - Robin, Miss Martian, Superboy, Kaldur, and Kid Flash - stood on the messy side, still catching their breath.
Opposite them, more composed, more collected, stood the Titans: Nightwing, Starfire, Raven, Cyborg, and Beast Boy.
Nightwing let out a long, impressed whistle as he surveyed the damage. "So… just how much are repairs gonna cost?" His tone was light, but his sharp blue eyes took in every detail. "This guy really went all out on you."
Then, his smirk deepened. "I'm surprised you survived without a scratch."
His gaze flicked back to Robin. "Barely."
Robin's fists clenched. "What? You think you'd do better?"
Nightwing shrugged, shifting his weight onto one foot. "I mean..."
The smirk said it all.
Robin bristled, but before he could fire back, Starfire floated forward, resting a hand on Nightwing's shoulder.
"Don't mind him, Robin," she said warmly, her voice as soothing as the glow of her hair. "He's just embarrassed that we didn't get here first."
"Aha-ha-ha," Robin laughed dryly.
"Hey!" Nightwing shot her a look. "I was following protocol. Infiltration was through Point Alpha, which meant someone familiar with the Batcave. When I confirmed it wasn't who I thought... well, I figured you had already rushed in without thinking."
He crossed his arms, smirking. "And look at that - I was right."
Robin kept up the mock laughter. "I don't know what's worse - that you thought it was Red Hood breaking in or that you actually thought I was in danger."
Starfire ignored them, floating over to Kaldur to engage in a more level-headed conversation.
Kid Flash, meanwhile, had taken an interest in Raven, nudging her with questions as she silently assessed the nature of the webs. Beast Boy transformed into a spider to assist in the analysis, while Cyborg scanned the residue with his sensors.
Miss Martian, sensing the growing tension, attempted to mediate as Robin laughed and Nightwing scowled, clearly irritated.
Superboy, however, remained still. Observing. Processing.
Superboy's frown deepened. Another team. Another hierarchy. And they acted like they belonged here.
The Titans. Who were they?"
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The suit fit like a second skin. A second skin with a very small tear at the hip. Damn you, Robin.
Jake flexed his fingers, feeling the synthetic weave stretch and contract over his knuckles. The material clung tight, smooth, and lightweight - exactly how it should be. It would've been damn near perfect if most of the tech hadn't been fried, but he wasn't letting that ruin his mood. Not yet.
Because right now, none of that mattered.
He had his own spider suit.
Black, of course. A sleek spider emblem sprawled across his chest, with an intricate web pattern ghosting over the fabric. The mask followed suit - black lenses, black fabric, black everything. Because, apparently, Batman had a personal vendetta against color.
But to Jake? It was his. Even if half the high-tech features were toast, it was a start. A stepping stone.
And now, it was time to test it.
A name? A place to rest? Actually resting? That could wait.
Right now, he needed to move.
He perched at the edge of the rooftop, the wind cutting sharp against the Gotham skyline. At least the ventilation in the suit still worked. No surprises there, huh?
Below, the city was as delightful as ever - dark alleys, robbery in progress, murder in progress… the usual.
Jake didn't mind.
He aimed.
A sharp thwip! cut through the night.
And then, he was gone.
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