Gotham Bank
The Gotham Bank lobby had collapsed into pure chaos, the kind that swallowed structure and spat out noise, light, and panic in equal measure.
Alarms screamed overhead in a relentless wail that drilled into the skull, red emergency lights flashing in uneven pulses that painted the marble walls in violent color.
Glass littered the floor in jagged shards that crunched sharply underfoot, the remains of shattered windows and display cases scattered like debris from a storm.
Somewhere in the confusion, civilians huddled behind overturned desks and counters, their voices overlapping in fear and confusion, but all of it blurred into background noise the moment Spider-Man vaulted through the wreckage and flipped cleanly over a toppled desk, landing in a low crouch as if he had stepped into this disaster by choice.
"Okay," Spider-Man said, straightening slightly as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, his tone far too casual for the situation unfolding around him. "Everybody stay calm. This is a robbery, not a rave. Please stop screaming."
The attempt at humor barely registered against the tension in the room, but it grounded him, gave him something familiar to hold onto as his eyes locked onto the source of the destruction.
Across the lobby, a man in a bulky yellow hoodie turned to face him, his posture steady, almost eager, as if he had been waiting for exactly this interruption.
The gauntlets strapped to his arms pulsed with a deep, dangerous glow, yellow energy bleeding through the seams in rhythmic waves as the air around them seemed to vibrate, distorting faintly like heat rising off asphalt. It wasn't just visual; it was something you could feel, a pressure that made the building itself seem tense, as though it were bracing for impact.
The man planted his feet firmly, shoulders squared with confidence that bordered on arrogance. "You picked the wrong bank, bug," he said, his voice carrying easily even over the alarms.
Spider-Man tilted his head slightly, the white lenses of his mask narrowing just a fraction as if in mock offense. "Wow. Zero buildup. No dramatic monologue? I'm offended." The quip had barely left his mouth when the man moved.
The blast came without warning, a concussive detonation that ripped through the lobby like a thunderclap made solid.
The air compressed violently before exploding outward, slamming into Spider-Man with enough force to rip him off his feet and send him hurtling backward through a row of plastic chairs that shattered on impact.
He hit the ground hard and skidded across the floor, glass scraping against his suit as the world rang in his ears. "OKAY," he groaned, pushing himself up onto an elbow as he shook his head, trying to clear it. "That one had weight."
He didn't give the man a second chance, firing a webline into the ceiling and yanking himself upward in a smooth, practiced motion that carried him out of the direct line of fire. "Fun fact!"
Spider-Man called as he swung across the lobby, momentum carrying him in a wide arc. "Vibrational shockwaves? Bad for buildings! Also bones! Mostly mine!" He twisted midair and fired a web straight at the man's chest, aiming to pin him before he could fire again.
The man reacted instantly, slamming his gauntlets together with a sharp metallic crack that sent a vibrating pulse outward, shredding the webbing midair before it could even make contact.
The strands unraveled into nothing as if they had never existed. "…Rude," Spider-Man muttered as he landed behind a marble pillar, the moment of cover lasting just long enough for another blast to obliterate the space where his head had been a second earlier, chunks of stone exploding outward in a spray of debris.
"Okay," Spider-Man said under his breath, pressing himself briefly against the pillar as he recalibrated, his mind racing faster than his body could keep up. "So webs are a no. Punching is probably also a no. Thinking. I should be thinking."
He darted out again before the next shot could land, moving fast and unpredictably, weaving between desks and counters, using anything solid as cover.
Grabbing a fallen teller desk with a quick webline, he swung it up and hurled it like a discus toward the man, hoping momentum might do what precision couldn't.
It didn't.
The man didn't even bother to dodge, raising one gauntlet and firing a single blast that reduced the desk to splinters midair, fragments scattering uselessly across the lobby.
Spider-Man's spider-sense screamed an instant before the next attack, a sharp, urgent warning that barely gave him time to react.
He raised his arms instinctively, bracing, but the shockwave still hit him square in the chest, lifting him off the ground and sending him crashing back into the massive vault door with enough force to dent the reinforced metal.
The impact drove the air from his lungs in a violent rush, leaving him gasping as he slid down the surface and hit the floor hard. "Ngh okay," he wheezed, trying to pull breath back into his body as pain radiated outward from the point of impact. "That's… definitely concussive."
Across the lobby, the man advanced slowly, boots crunching over broken glass with deliberate, unhurried steps, the glow of his gauntlets intensifying with each movement.
"You heroes always think you're untouchable," the man said, his voice edged with something sharper now, something closer to anger.
Spider-Man forced himself upright, his vision swimming slightly as he shook his head, trying to push past the disorientation. "In my defense," he shot back, though his voice came out rougher than before, "I usually am." The response earned him another blast, and this time he tried to jump clear, but he didn't get high enough.
The edge of the shockwave clipped him midair and slammed him into the ceiling before gravity reclaimed him, sending him crashing back down onto the floor where he skidded to a stop on his back.
For a moment, he didn't move, the world narrowing to fragments of sensation with the distant wail of alarms, the echo of terrified voices, the sharp, persistent ache spreading through his body.
The man loomed over him, gauntlets glowing brighter now, the energy building to something dangerous and final. "Stay down," he said, raising his arms.
Spider-Man tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled under the strain, his strength lagging just enough to make the effort feel heavier than it should have. "Yeah," he panted, forcing the words out despite the pressure in his chest. "See, that's the thing. I don't really do that." The man's hands lifted higher, the glow intensifying and then the lights flickered.
The shift was subtle but immediate, a disruption that rippled through the space just long enough to matter. A shadow moved at the edge of vision, fast and precise, and before the man could react, something struck him hard from the side.
His arm jerked violently as a kick landed with pinpoint accuracy at the joint of his gauntlet, the force redirecting his aim just enough that the blast fired wild, tearing a jagged hole through the ceiling instead of into Spider-Man. The man staggered back, disoriented. "What the…"
Spider-Man rolled onto his side, blinking as he tried to process what had just happened, his focus snapping toward the new presence in the room.
A figure stood between him and the attacker, clad entirely in black, the suit sleek and minimal, the white lenses of the mask catching the flickering light in sharp contrast.
Orphan.
For a second, Spider-Man's brain stalled completely, the tension of the fight colliding headfirst with pure, unfiltered surprise. "…Oh," he said, the word slipping out before he could stop it. "Hi."
She didn't acknowledge him, didn't even glance in his direction, her attention already locked onto the man as she moved again.
Another blast fired, but she was already gone, slipping beneath it with fluid precision, rolling forward and coming up inside his guard in a single seamless motion.
Her baton snapped out, striking the side of his gauntlet with surgical accuracy, disrupting the vibration just enough to make it falter.
Spider-Man scrambled to his feet, adrenaline surging back into his system as the fight shifted. "Okay! Backup! Love backup! Huge fan of backup!" he called, shaking out his arms as he rejoined the fray.
Orphan spared him a glance, just a fraction of a second, her eyes flicking to the gauntlets, then upward toward the ceiling, then back to him, the sequence quick but intentional.
Spider-Man blinked, trying to follow the silent communication. "You want me to…?" She tapped the side of her head once.
Plan.
"Oh," Spider-Man said, nodding quickly as understanding clicked into place. "Right. Thinking. Got it." He fired a webline upward and yanked hard, tearing loose the already-damaged ceiling lights and sending them crashing down in a shower of sparks and shattered glass.
The man snarled and fired upward in response, blasting the falling debris apart, but the distraction forced him to split his focus.
Orphan moved again, faster than Spider-Man could track, her strikes precise and relentless as she targeted joints and weak points, kicking his knee out from under him, sweeping his leg, and driving her baton into his elbow with controlled force. "HEY!" the man roared, stumbling as his balance faltered. "STOP MOVING!"
Spider-Man didn't wait, swinging in low and grabbing the man's ankle with a webline before yanking hard, pulling his leg out from under him and sending him crashing to the floor.
The impact triggered another shockwave, but Spider-Man rode the force this time, flipping over it and landing awkwardly on top of a desk that immediately shifted under his weight. He slipped, arms windmilling slightly before he caught himself. "…I meant to do that," he muttered, though no one reacted.
Orphan was already moving, wrapping her legs around the man's arm and twisting sharply, forcing the gauntlet to angle upward.
Spider-Man saw the opening instantly. "DUCK!" he shouted, firing a webline toward the other gauntlet and yanking with everything he had.
The metal shrieked under the strain before tearing loose entirely, the gauntlet ripping free as the man let out a raw, furious scream. "NO!"
Orphan released her hold and landed lightly, spinning into a sharp kick that knocked the remaining gauntlet off balance just enough to disrupt its aim.
Spider-Man jumped in to follow up, misjudged the distance, and slammed shoulder-first into a nearby pillar with a dull thud. "…Ow," he muttered, shaking it off quickly before firing another webline to bind the man's legs, yanking him backward just as Orphan swept him again.
The man hit the ground hard this time, the fight draining out of him as momentum turned fully against him.
Spider-Man didn't hesitate, layering webbing across his arms, chest, and mask in rapid succession, securing him firmly to the floor.
He straightened slowly, breathing hard as he looked down at the subdued figure, then at the discarded gauntlet, and back again. "So… you know what?" he said, tilting his head slightly. "I'm calling you Shocker."
The man groaned, his voice muffled beneath the webbing. "That's stupid." Spider-Man pointed at him. "Too late. It's sticking." The man glared weakly. "…I hate it." Spider-Man grinned beneath the mask. "Nailed it."
The man struggled weakly, residual vibrations rippling through the webbing, but Orphan stepped forward and delivered a single precise strike to the base of his neck, and just like that, the tension left his body as he went limp.
The alarms finally cut out, plunging the lobby into a sudden, almost jarring silence that felt heavier than the noise had been.
Spider-Man stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling as the adrenaline slowly began to ebb, the aches in his body becoming more noticeable now that the fight was over.
He turned toward Orphan, who stood a few feet away, calm and composed as if none of this had required effort.
There was a pause, long and awkward, the kind that stretched just enough to demand acknowledgment.
"…So," Spider-Man began, rubbing the back of his neck slightly, "that was… great teamwork. You're very quiet. Like… intimidating quiet. I respect it." She didn't respond, didn't move, just watched him in silence that somehow said more than words would have.
He shifted slightly under the weight of it. "I definitely had that under control," he added quickly. "You know. Mostly. Ninety percent. The part where I was on the floor was strategic." She tilted her head just slightly.
He winced. "Okay, maybe seventy." She turned to leave without another word.
"Oh wait!" Spider-Man blurted, taking a half-step forward. "Uh… thanks. Seriously. You saved me." She paused, just for a moment, and then gave the smallest nod before continuing on, disappearing into the shadows as quietly as she had arrived. Behind his mask, Spider-Man couldn't help the small grin that spread across his face.
"…I totally did not just embarrass myself in front of Batman's scariest kid," he muttered under his breath as the distant sound of approaching police sirens grew louder.
He glanced down at the unconscious Shocker, then at the dented pillar, then at the scorch marks carved into the walls, taking in the full scope of the damage with a slow exhale.
"…I need to train more," he said to no one in particular.
With that, he fired a webline upward and swung out through the shattered skylight, disappearing into the night as his heart still raced, the echo of the fight lingering long after he was gone.
Batcave
The roar of a motorcycle cut cleanly through the vast, echoing expanse of the Batcave, the sound bouncing off stone walls and steel platforms as it rolled to a controlled stop near the central work area.
The engine growled for a moment longer before dying down, leaving behind the familiar low hum of computers and distant dripping water that defined the cave's constant atmosphere.
Orphan swung off the bike in one smooth motion, her movements precise and effortless even after a full night of patrol, and with a quick pull, she removed her mask, revealing Cass beneath as she ran a hand through her slightly wind-tousled hair, her expression calm and unreadable as always.
Tim was already leaning casually against the Batcomputer, arms crossed as a grin spread across his face the moment she stepped into the light. "Well, well," he said, his tone laced with amusement, "look who decided to save her crush and make it look effortless."
Nearby, Stephanie perched comfortably on the massive tire of the Batmobile, one leg swinging idly as she snickered, clearly enjoying the moment far more than she should have. "Classic Cass," she added, tilting her head with a playful smirk. "Dangerous, efficient… and totally unbothered by boys."
Cass tilted her head slightly at that, brushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear as her hands moved quickly, her signs sharp with just a hint of irritation beneath the surface. I did not do it for him.
Tim didn't even hesitate, translating aloud with a smirk that only widened as he spoke. "Yeah, sure, we all believe that." Stephanie waved a hand dramatically as if correcting him. "You mean, of course, we all believe that."
Cass's ears twitched slightly at that, the smallest tell of her annoyance, and she muttered something under her breath, her hands stilling as she chose not to dignify them with a longer response.
The shift in tone came the moment Bruce stepped forward from the shadows, his presence alone enough to quiet the lighthearted teasing without a word.
His expression was serious, focused, the weight of intention behind it immediately clear. "Let's focus," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I want to discuss Alex Ross."
The name alone was enough to change the atmosphere, Tim and Stephanie exchanging a quick glance as the humor faded into something more attentive, while Cassandra straightened almost imperceptibly, her posture sharpening as her attention locked in.
Bruce's gaze moved across them all, measured and deliberate. "First, his personality. How does he respond under stress? How does he interact with others?"
Tim pushed himself off the Batcomputer slightly, his expression shifting into something more analytical as he considered the question. "He's smart," he began, his tone thoughtful, "confident when he needs to be, and… yeah, a bit awkward sometimes. But not in a bad way. He doesn't freeze up, even when things get dangerous. He adapts pretty fast."
Stephanie nodded along, a small grin returning as she added her own take. "Yeah, he's got heart, that's the big thing. And he's stubborn, but like… good stubborn. The kind you want in a hero."
Cass's hands moved next, fluid and precise as she contributed, her observations more direct, more focused.
Tim watched her for a moment before translating, his voice steady. "Focused. Observant. Respectful. Fast learner. Motivated… but emotional when distracted."
Bruce gave a slight nod, absorbing each point without interruption, his mind clearly already assembling a larger picture. "Good," he said simply, before continuing. "Now, his fighting style. Where does he excel? Where does he need improvement?"
Cass answered again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if choosing each detail carefully. Quick reflexes. Improvises effectively. Uses environment well. Needs formal training. Discipline. Control under pressure.
Tim translated without embellishment, though one eyebrow lifted slightly as he glanced at her. "You're reading him like a book," he remarked, a hint of curiosity slipping through.
Cass gave a small shrug in response, her gaze shifting away just slightly, as if the observation didn't matter.
Bruce turned back to the group, his decision already made, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "That is precisely why I'm bringing him into the fold."
The words settled heavily in the cave, drawing a brief silence that lingered just long enough to emphasize their significance.
From the upper level, Jason's voice cut in, casual and amused as he leaned against the railing, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Ohh, so we're adopting the new kid," he said. "Lucky him." Stephanie rolled her eyes immediately, folding her arms. "You mean training him into a full-on hero, Jason. Big difference."
Jason laughed softly, unfazed. "Call it whatever you want. I volunteer to be the one to initiate him, show him the ropes, bring him here tomorrow night," he added, pushing off the railing slightly. "Make sure he survives Gotham's gentle introduction."
Cass's hands moved again, quicker this time, almost impatient in their precision. He is observant. Capable. Needs guidance. Will adapt. Jason's grin widened at that, something sharper flickering in his expression. "Sounds like my kind of fun."
Bruce's gaze swept over them once more, grounding the moment before it could drift too far into casual banter. "Tomorrow night, Jason escorts him. Cassandra monitors. The rest of you observe as needed," he instructed, his voice even and controlled. "And remember he's capable, but still learning. Treat him accordingly."
Cass signed again, more softly now, the movement almost thoughtful. Interesting. I'll watch.
Stephanie leaned closer to Tim, lowering her voice into a whisper that wasn't nearly as subtle as she thought it was. "Watch him? Cass is already emotionally invested." Tim shook his head immediately, whispering back with a quiet groan. "Please don't start. We will never hear the end of it."
Bruce folded his arms, drawing their attention back without raising his voice. "Prepare for integration," he said. "We've observed him for a reason. He has potential. He deserves guidance. And that guidance starts tomorrow."
Jason gave a mock salute from above, his smirk never fading. "Noted. Rookie's in for a long night… and probably a lot of teasing."
Cass muttered something under her breath as her hands moved one last time, the motion quick and unmistakably resigned.
He will never stop talking. Tim couldn't help the grin that followed as he translated, glancing between them. "Yep. Already starting."
The Batcave settled into a steady hum once more, the earlier teasing blending with a quieter sense of anticipation, of something new about to begin.
Beneath the banter and the planning, there was a shared understanding that this was a turning point, another life stepping into their world, another story about to intertwine with theirs.
And somewhere above them, in a city that never truly slept, Alex Ross had no idea just how much his world was about to change.