(Remember to Vote and Comment as it Does a Lot for Motivation Seeing That You're Reading)

"I'll kill 'em, I swear I'll fucking kill 'em!" the man's voice rang out into the Gotham night, slicing through the cold, damp air as sirens wailed beneath him. He stood in a cramped apartment, gripping a worn-out revolver, his knuckles white as his trembling finger hovered dangerously over the trigger. A family of three—mother, father, and a small child—sat huddled together, paralyzed with fear, their eyes wide with silent pleas. The mother clutched her son tightly, pressing his face into her chest as if she could shield him from the horrors unfolding. The father dared not move, knowing that the slightest provocation could end it all.

He fired off a shot, causing the family to jump as the man looked out the window crazed. Smoke emanated from his revolver, more bullets were inside, all had the families names on them.

Outside, the GCPD officers could do nothing but wait. Floodlights bathed the side of the building, casting harsh beams through the cracked window, illuminating the tense scene. Their radios buzzed with frantic voices, but no one dared make a move. The situation teetered on a razor's edge, one breath away from catastrophe.

CRACK

Suddenly, the single overhead light in the dingy apartment shattered, raining glass down like jagged stars. The mugger jumped back in shock, his heart racing as darkness swallowed the room. The glow from the city's lights barely penetrated the murky space, leaving only vague shapes and shadows. His breathing quickened, his grip on the revolver tightening as his eyes darted around, searching for any sign of movement.

SKIT

A flicker in the dark. The sudden strike of a match cut through the blackness like a knife, casting a brief, flickering glow across the room. The mugger's eyes snapped toward the source—a figure stood across the room, bathed in the soft, dying light of the tiny flame. The man was clad entirely in black, his leather trench coat shifting in the slight breeze from the broken window. But it wasn't the coat or the match that held the mugger's attention—it was the figure's eyes. Two luminous, white eyes that seemed to burn through the dark, locking onto him, unblinking. They stared into his soul, cold and unrelenting.

The figure brought the match closer to his face, illuminating the sharp lines of his features—hard, jagged, like a man who'd seen too much and cared too little. The flame sputtered and died, plunging the room back into near-total darkness, save for the faint glow of the streetlights outside. But the eyes—they remained.

"What in God's name?" the mugger muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper, his body frozen with a mixture of terror and confusion.

"God?" The figure's voice was low, gravelly, like stones grinding together. It was a voice that carried no warmth, no mercy. The sound of bones cracking echoed through the room as he flexed his fingers, each knuckle popping like the slow tick of a clock running out of time. "God can't hear you."

The mugger's hand jerked, instinctively raising the revolver, but before he could pull the trigger

THWIP

Something shot through the air with a sharp, wet snap. The revolver was yanked violently from his grasp, the metal clattering to the floor and sliding across the wooden planks, out of reach. The mugger stumbled backward, his eyes wide with panic, his hands grasping at nothing. His breath came in shallow, desperate gasps.

"Not here," the voice growled from the shadows.

The figure moved, a blur in the dim light, faster than the mugger could react. In an instant, the black-clad stranger was upon him, his hand wrapping around the mugger's throat with a crushing grip. The man gasped, choking as he was lifted from the floor, his feet dangling inches above the ground. His fingers clawed at the gloved hand squeezing the life from him, but it was like trying to tear apart stone.

"Please," the mugger croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't—"

"You did," the figure interrupted, his voice harsh and unyielding. "You chose this. Now live with it."

The mother whimpered, clinging to her child as the figure turned his head toward her. For a moment, those glowing eyes softened, just a fraction, but the grim determination never wavered. He wasn't here to negotiate or make deals. He was here to end this.

The man's breath was ragged, his vision swimming. "Please..."

The figure lowered him back to the floor, but his grip never loosened. Instead, he leaned in close, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "You think you can hold a city like this hostage? Prey on the innocent and walk away? No. Not in my city."

The mugger's knees buckled as he was shoved to the floor, gasping for air. He scrambled away, trying to crawl toward the door, but the figure loomed over him like a shadow, inevitable and inescapable.

"This is your last night," the figure said, stepping forward with slow, deliberate intent. He crouched down, inches from the mugger's face. "You'll never hurt anyone again."

With a flick of his wrist, he wrapped something sticky, cold, and impossibly strong around the man's wrists, pinning him to the ground. The mugger thrashed, but it was useless he was caught, trapped like an insect in a web. He looked up to see the face of the devil himself peering over him;

The Spider

The mugger would live, he had to, the code would be abided. But he would serve as a warning, a catalyst, a signal that the mysterious Batman was not the only one who prowled through the darkness and the gutters.

The GCPD officers from outside were confused at their eyes tried to scan through the darkness of the windows.

CRASH

The mugger was sent crashing through one of the windows, The officers and detectives backed up even though upon further inspection they saw the man was left dangling. What appeared to be webbing, bright white spider webbing bound the mans wrist and were connected to the interior of the apartment. The mugger was still breathing, barley. His face was covered in cuts and bruises.

The Spider stood perched atop a rooftop, cloaked in shadows, his eyes glowing as the GCPD stormed the apartment below. Their flashlights swept across the scene, landing on the mugger, now dangling helplessly by the webbing. The officers muttered in awe, but The Spider remained silent. Rain tapped lightly on the shattered window as he watched them cut the criminal down. His coat whispered in the wind as he turned away, disappearing into the night's embrace. Justice, cold and relentless, had been served.

In Gotham's underbelly, only fear ruled.

The Spider perched atop a rooftop, he still had work to do. Rupert Thorne's warehouse, it was across town. Several of Thorne's other warehouses had been hit previous nights and whoever was making a move on Thorne would surely do so tonight.

The Spider extended his right arm and shot out a long strand of durable, flexible webbing from his wrist. Something of his own design. The webbing would dissolve itself after several hours, simple but effective.

Another web shot out, and another, and another.....

Y/N dubbed this technique web swinging, flowing across the city scape using webs to move about at a fast pace. Years of working at those steel works had trained his body to have the strength and agility he needed.

The Spider landed on a rooftop and ran across it, his long black coat blowed in the wind as he shot webs forward and pulled himself forward onto another building. But just as the warehouse came into sight-

BOOOOOOM

The entire warehouse was blown sky-high, fire and burning wood scattered in all directions, concrete lay in ruin. Someone was making a move on Thorne, someone who had the weaponry to toe to toe with Gotham's very own Kingpin of Crime. The Spider watched from afar, he would consult the map of Gotham, which warehouses had been hit, and who had the balls to take on Thorne.

-------------------------

The next morning, Y/N Parker strolled into the bustling newsroom of the Gotham Gazette, his usual spring in his step despite the weight of last night's altercation. With his camera bag slung over his shoulder and his fedora slightly askew, he whistled a light tune as he navigated the rows of desks, dodging frenzied reporters and piles of half-written stories.

"Morning, sunshine!" a familiar voice chimed from across the room. Vicki Vale, the Gazette's star investigative reporter, leaned against her desk, her sharp eyes flicking over Y/N with a teasing smirk. "You look like you haven't slept in days."

Y/N grinned, brushing off her comment with a chuckle as he adjusted his tie. "Sleep? Nah, I'm on a strict no-sleep diet. It's all the rage. Keeps you sharp... or delirious. One of the two." He winked, his boyish charm completely at odds with his other self. Here, in the daylight, he was all smiles and quick wit, an entirely different man.

Vicki shook her head, amused. "You keep this up, Y/N, and one of these days you're going to fall asleep mid-interview. Not that I'd blame you with the hours you pull."

Y/N shrugged, his grin widening. "Hey, when you're living the dream, who needs sleep? Besides, Gotham's never boring. Something about this city just keeps me... wired." He tapped his temple for emphasis, his eyes dancing with humor.

Vicki rolled her eyes, clearly not buying it but too busy to dig any further. She always liked the banter between herself and Y/N, it was cute. "Just don't drop dead before you turn in your next piece. I've got competition to crush."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Y/N shot back, winking again as he turned to head toward the editor's office. He made his way through the cluttered newsroom, passing by stacks of old newspapers and the frantic hum of deadlines being chased.

As soon as he reached the large, frosted-glass door with the words J. Jonah Jameson, Editor-in-Chief emblazoned across it, he paused, taking a breath. Steeling himself for the inevitable storm, he knocked twice and let himself in without waiting for a response.

Jameson sat behind his large oak desk, a half-smoked cigar clenched between his teeth, glaring at a stack of papers as if they personally offended him. The room was filled with the scent of tobacco and ink, as it always was, and the walls were lined with framed front-page scoops, each with the telltale bombastic headlines that Jameson was known for.

"Parker!" Jameson barked without looking up, already sensing who had entered. "Get in here!"

Y/N flashed a quick, nervous smile and slid into the room, closing the door behind him. "Good morning to you too, Mr. Jameson."

"Morning? What's so good about it? And what the hell is this?" Jameson jabbed a thick finger at the latest edition of the Gazette, Y/N's article plastered on the front page. "You call this writing? I've seen better work from interns!" he insulted, pulling a cigar out of his mouth and placing it down.

Y/N stepped forward, trying to hide the wince. "Uh, which part? I thought it turned out pretty—"

"The whole damn thing!" Jameson interrupted, slapping the paper. "Spelling errors! Misplaced commas! And don't even get me started on your phrasing! 'Dread cloaked the night as The Spider lurked in the shadows'? What are you, a poet?! No one wants flowery garbage! People want the facts! Cold, hard facts! And headlines that pop!"

Y/N almost looked disappointed, he was lucky enough to get this job a few months and his first mayor headline outside of covering the District Attorney and looks like it flopped. He continued to listen to the rant. "So... you didn't like it, then?"

Jameson huffed, leaning back in his chair, his cigar moving to the other side of his mouth. "Didn't say that. The story's fine. Good, even. You got the Spider pegged right—menace, a danger to Gotham, a loose cannon. People like that. But you've gotta tighten it up. This isn't some dime-store novel, Parker. It's a newspaper!"

Y/N nodded earnestly, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Right. No poetry. More... menace."

"Exactly!" Jameson grumbled, finally letting his scowl soften just a touch. "But for a kid who can barely spell, you've got an eye for capturing the real deal. Stick to that, and maybe you'll keep your job. Now, go see Betty for your paycheck before I change my mind."

Y/N's smile broadened, his relief visible. "Thanks, Mr. Jameson. I'll, uh, work on the commas."

"You better, Parker! Or I'll make sure you're photographing and writing about cats for the classifieds!" he called out. "That Dent fellow is fighting another case right now, after you get your pay, get down there and make our beloved hero even more uuhhh-" Jonah floundered with his words for a second, seemed even the editor and chief had grammar problems. "Hero-er" he finished, causing Y/N to chuckle as he closed the door.

-------------------------

Y/N ran up the steps of the Gotham City courthouse, court was already in session and the trial was nearing its end. He was dressed in some brown trousers, white shirt with a few top buttons undone and a tight waist coat. His nightly activities had really started to show themselves in his build. In one pocket he had a notebook, and around his neck strung his handy dandy camera, the Gazettes property of course. Y/N quietly opened the door, and slid inside without drawing any attention and sat down, just as Barbara, the defence attorney for this case was about to make her closing argument.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury" she began looking to said jury. "With all due respect, the prosecution's case is absurd.My client isn't the mastermind behind a smuggling ring. He isn't a killer. He's a desperate kid who took the wrong job from the wrong people. It's as simple as that" she pleaded to the jury, the judge then slammed his gavel down.

"Court will recess until the jury reaches a verdict" he ordered as the bailiff escorted the defendant to his holding cell while members of the public vacated. Y/N made sure to take as many notes as possible, the atmosphere, the looks of the public, the look of Dents face that just screamed over confidence and arrogance.

"It was a good closer, Miss Gordon" Harvey complimented as he went over to the defence attorney smugly, leaning on her table and inspecting his finger nails as Barbara gathered her papers. "But you know you're gonna lose, right? I had that jury eating out of my hand" he declared.

"Come on" Barbara tried to argue. "You know this kid's been set up to take the fall".

"Well, then he should have squealed on his bosses" Harvey shot back. "Not my fault he wouldn't take a deal".

"And I suppose it's not your fault my key witness took a sudden trip to Bermuda either?" Barbara argued back, knowing that even Dent liked to play his hands in all the dirty tricks he could to ensure a conviction.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Barbara" he smugly replied.

"And I'm sure you do, Harvey" Barbara shot back putting emphasis on his name. "It's all politics for you now. Every conviction, another ad for your campaign. 'Harvey Dent: Tough On Crime'" she read out his motto, it was all true, Y/N knew it, but not like Jonah would let him write anything about that. To much of the city, Harvey Dent was the golden child of Gotham.

"Hey, I'm just doing my job. If putting hardened criminals behind bars helps me in the polls, then...Oh, that reminds me" he exclaimed, reaching into his inner blazer pocket for a gift. He pulled out a buttons= for his mayoral campaign, marked 'Dent for Mayor'. "Here, hot off the presses" he offered it to her.

"No thanks" Barbara dismissed. "Gift it to someone who might actually vote for you" she fired back causing Y/N to look shocked in the back.

"Oh, come on. I'm not that bad. Look, I'll even give your kid a break" Dent smugly suggested as he pulled out a silver coin from his person and held it up showcasing it to Barbara. "Heads, I'll ask for 20 years to life. Tails, he gets the chair" he said, and Y/N eagerly wrote this down as Dent flipped it.

"I'm not betting a man's life on a coin flip" Barbara angrily stated as she grabbed the coin and slammed it on the table. "You're an ass, Dent!" she angrily stated and stormed off, shooting Y/N a small nod.

"Oh don't go away mad, look heads, you won!" he called out trying to get Barbara to come back. But Harvey chuckled to himself as he looked at the coin, revealing it to be a double sided head coin. Harvey liked that about the coin, giving Barbara, other attorneys and their clients that small thing their minds would grasp at, the illusion of hope.

"M-m-m-m-mr Dent" Y/N called out with his pen in the air trying to get Harvey's attention as he made his way toward the court exit. "Any comment for the Gazette sir?" his voice was nervous, giddy and skittish.

"Only one Mr Parker" Dent smugly answered, not even stopping and expecting Y/N to follow him which he did. Harvey knew who Y/N was, he read parts of his articles, the first few paragraphs before he got bored without seeing his own name repeated and praised. "Once again, I, Gotham's Greatest District Attorney, puts a Dent in Crime" he smiled, Y/N stood still as he wrote it all down, he was so confident he got the conviction already.

Y/N watched Harvey saunter out of the courtroom, arrogance dripping from every word, but his focus quickly shifted to Barbara, who was off in the corner wallowing in her own fading confidence and overlooked her files.

Barbara sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping as she felt Y/N approach. She looked up, offering him a weak smile but the uncertainty in her eyes was unmistakable. "I don't know, Y/N... this jury, the way Dent spun the case, I don't think I've done enough."

Y/N, feeling her frustration, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Babs," he said gently, using the nickname he reserved for when they weren't in front of others. "You did everything you could. That closing argument was solid."

"Dent's got his claws into this one" was all Barbara could muster.

Y/N glanced toward the courtroom doors where Dent had disappeared just moments ago. "Yeah, Dent reeks of shady deals. Always has. But Jonah would never let me run that story. He's too deep in Dent's corner, and the rest of Gotham's media just eats up Dent's 'golden boy' act."

Barbara let out a bitter laugh. "It's all about who controls the narrative, isn't it?"

"Exactly," Y/N said with a small smile, leaning against the defense table. "But just because he's won over this crowd doesn't mean he wins forever. If you don't get this one, you'll win the next, and the one after that. It's not about winning every time, Barbara."

She looked at him, her brow furrowed in thought. "It sure feels like it sometimes."

"I know it does," Y/N admitted, "but that's the game, isn't it? You keep going. One step at a time. You just need to wear him down. He's flashy, but his type? They always trip over their own feet eventually."

Barbara smiled, a flicker of hope softening her expression. "You really think so?"

Y/N grinned, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I know so. Besides, I've seen you in court enough times to know you're the best defense attorney in this city. You'll get this verdict—if not today, then tomorrow."

Her smile grew a little wider. "Thanks, Y/N. I needed that."

"Anytime, Babs," he said, letting his hand fall from her shoulder. "And hey, if nothing else, you always have someone rooting for you in the press," he added with a wink.

She laughed lightly, some of the tension easing from her face. "Let's hope I don't need you to pull strings" which Y/N simply smiled at.

-------------------------

That Night, the Spider prowled the city. Y/N had somewhere to be, Oswalda Copplebot was holding a fundraiser for the GCPD tonight and Jonah wanted him to cover it, but the Spider took priority during the night. All elements of Y/N were pushed to the back of the mans skull as the Spider personality cemented itself in his brain. These warehouses had been attacked, on the official reports it stated due to an electrical fault, that was the reason the Gazette was given. But no electrical fault could create an explosion so powerful, the reports were faked.

'The GCFD Captain' a voice in the back of his skull whispered, it's voice like a snake slithering itself into his thoughts. That's when the idea came to Y/N from the voice, the fire department captain would know what caused them. And said Captain would be preparing himself to attend the fundraiser at this very moment.

The Spider shot out a web, and swung across the city.

As he swung through the cold night air, the city's lights blurred below him. And that voice slithered once again.

The GCFD Captain. He knows. Find him.

The Captain was likely preparing for the fundraiser by now. Gotham's elite liked to polish their badges for nights like these, pretending the city wasn't drowning in filth. But the Spider knew better.

In minutes, he arrived at the rooftop, perched silently above the Captain's suite like a gargoyle. The window was slightly ajar, and from his vantage point, the Spider could see the Captain adjusting his dress uniform in the mirror. He was preparing for the gala, straightening his tie with hands that, unbeknownst to him, were stained in corruption.

With a flick of his wrist, the Spider shot a thin line of webbing, silently securing it to the Captain's collar. Then, with a brutal yank, he pulled the man through the window, sending him crashing onto the rooftop. The Captain let out a startled yelp, scrambling to get his bearings.

Before he could react, the Spider was upon him, his glowing white eyes burning in the darkness, his voice a harsh whisper carried on the cold wind. "You're not going anywhere, Captain."

The Captain gasped, struggling as the Spider hoisted him into the air, securing him to a metal beam jutting out from the rooftop. He dangled helplessly, the ground stories below him, his feet kicking in the empty space.

"W-What do you want?" the Captain stammered, his voice trembling. "I don't— I don't know anything!"

The Spider stepped closer, the night cloaking his body in shadow. His voice was cold, devoid of mercy. "You signed off on the report. You covered up what really happened at those warehouses." He leaned in, his mask inches from the Captain's face, his words dripping with venom. "Who told you to fake it?"

The Captain's eyes darted around, desperate, searching for any sign of help. But there was no one. No one could see them up here, and even if they could, no one would dare intervene. His lips quivered, and he tried to speak, but fear held his throat tight. The Spider's hand shot out, gripping the Captain's face, forcing him to look into those cold, unforgiving white eyes.

"I can let you fall," the Spider hissed, tightening his grip just enough to make the Captain choke on his own breath. "It would be easy. And no one would even miss you."

The Captain gasped, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He struggled to speak, his words sputtering between terrified breaths. "I— I didn't— I didn't want to—"

"Who told you to fake it?" The Spider's voice grew darker, more menacing.

"No! Please!" the Captain cried out, his voice shrill. "I'll talk! I'll talk!"

The Spider stopped, his eyes narrowing. "Then talk. Now."

"It was Wilford Lee!" the Captain spat out, his chest heaving. "Wilford Lee told me to change the reports, told me to say it was an electrical fault. He signed off on it himself!"

"Who is Wilford Lee working for?" The Spider's tone was ice-cold, his body rigid as he leaned closer to the terrified man.

The Captain's eyes flicked around nervously, as if even speaking the name would summon something far worse than the Spider. "Lee... Lee works for the P-p-p-p-p-p," he stammered. "The Penguin. She— she controls everything."

The Spider stared down at the Captain for a long moment, weighing his words, his own thoughts churning like a storm. Oswalda Copplebot. Of course. She's been making a name for herself, and now she was gunning for Thorne.

"You lied," the Spider growled, his voice low and deadly. "People died because of you. That blood is on your hands."

The Captain whimpered, tears now streaming down his face. "I-I didn't have a choice! Lee threatened me—he said the Penguin would—"

The Spider yanked him forward violently, the Captain's body dangling over the edge of the building now, nothing between him and the ground below but a thin strand of webbing. "You always have a choice," the Spider whispered darkly. "But you made the wrong one."

The Captain sobbed, shaking uncontrollably. "Please! Don't drop me! I told you everything!"

For a long moment, the Spider said nothing. He simply watched, his glowing eyes betraying no emotion. And then, with a flick of his wrist, he pulled the Captain back onto the rooftop, slamming him against the cold concrete. The Captain lay there, trembling, too scared to move.

The Spider vanished into the night, the captain looked around but he was unable to spot the mysterious vigilante anywhere.

Perhaps Y/N being at this gala would proof useful after all.

-------------------------

Getting onto the floating Iceberg Lounge was quite easy, dressed in a suit that used to belong to Uncle Ben and a flash of the press pass and he was in. It was a large converted cruise ship, with a large purple striped top har and purple umbrella mounted atop it. With a large bow, that almost resembled a beak. The whole thing almost looked like.......a Penguin. 

Everyone who was anyone was here, even Barbara and her commissioner father. Everyone was gathered in a large ballroom, sweet treats and alcoholic drinks littered tables and servers carried them around. Barbara was dressed in a purple and pink dress, while the Commissioner a standard tuxedo. 

Currently the spot light was directly on Oswalda herself, as she gave a singing performance which Y/N had to admit was definitely better than he was expecting. She went around, giving compliments to Detective Flass and not even giving Bullock a look as he practically begged for a compliment. 

https://youtu.be/FDL88e4FtJs

(Just thought I'd include it cause the VA killed it with the singing) 

Even as Miss Oswalda made her way out of the spotlight, Y/N nabbed picture after picture with rather bright flashes. Giving an eager smile as no one looked his way, no one suspected the press. Invisible in crowds, always there, but you don't notice them. 

"To think I could be at home about now, doing my nails. Or the dishes or my taxes" Barbara sighed as she held a glass of champagne, she's had to question a majority of the people here in court. 

"It's not like I'm having fun here either, Barbara" Jim responded as he too held a glass of alcohol, both Gordons weren't having the happiest of times. Majority of the people here wanted to see them both fail, many of them wanted Jim out as Commissioner so they could dirty their hands further, and many more of them wanted Barbara to fail in court so all the falls guys for their activities are put away. 

"Hey Barbara, Mr Gordon" Y/N greeted them, giving a small wave. 

"Y/N, always happy to see you kid" Jim greeted as the extended a hand which Y/N shook. "How many times have I told you to call me Jim" he added. 

"Sorry Mr- Jim, just one of those things I can't seem to get right" he apologised, rubbing the back of his head embarrassed. 

"That and being on time apparently" Barbara joked, driving that metaphorical knife in further, she was right a bit, he was late to work, late to the court, late and almost missing the ship. 

"Well you know, late nights and early mornings don't exactly mix" Y/n joked back. "You know Jim, Barbara has been doing really in-" before Y/N could finish he was cut off as Harvey Dent  butted in, gently pushing Y/N aside as he extended his arm.

"Commissioner Gordon" the D.A greeted, not paying any attention to Y/N.

"Harvey" was all he greeted with. "You know my daughter, and Y/N" he stated, trying to get Dent to see outside his own sphere of arrogance. 

"Know her? If I had my way, this little spitfire would be working for me in the D.A's office" Harvey said delighted at seeing his court room nemesis. "And Y/N here has written so many peaces about me he's probably helped me in the poles" he laughed, giving a rather hard pat on the back  causing Y/N to jump forward slightly in pain and shock, all part of the act. 

"You know Jim, once I'm elected mayor, you and I are going to do great things for this city" Harvey almost whispered, leaning forward to speak to Jim and only jim. 

"Yeah, absolutely" Jim sighed, even he couldn't stand Harvey's arrogance.

"Who knows? Maybe then you won't need outside help from giant animals" Harvey joked further, referring to the Spider and the other vigilante who seemed to stalk the nights. Y/N hadn't run into this Man-Bat Vicki's article referred to, and he didn't know what he'd do if he did. 

"Do you leave coolies out for Santa too?" Barbara scoffed, moving away from the conversation  and outside to get some air. Y/N would've followed her but a hand grazed his shoulder. 

"What about a picture for the paper kid?" Harvey asked, immediately placing a hand around Jim's shoulder as he pulled him for the picture. Jim gave Y/N a nod, just to say its okay and so the reporter lifted his camera and a large flash emerged. "Great, that better be front page" Harvey added, pointing a joking finger, turning to talk to Jim and practically closing Y/N off from joining the conversation. 

Find the Evidence 

The voice spoke again, the Spider wrapping its silky webs around his brain as Y/N slipped away in the bowels of the ship. It was like a metal maze, pipes leading to nowhere, cremates monitoring ever corridor. But Y/N didn't allow himself to be seen, he could not allow himself to be seen. But just as he was about to round a corner, he heard her. Oswalda, the Penguin. She was being tailed by her two sons, Ronald and Aaron. With them being tailed by Oswalda's enforcer, Iggy.

Y/N stopped for a moment, and allowed them to pass. The two sons were giggling amongst themselves, some joke about their new rival Thorne. Who better to lead him to the evidence than the Penguin herself. Deeper into the ship he travelled. Soon the four entered a rather large room filled with boxes, the top was off of one showing, explosives? Right as the metal door was about to shut Y/N placed her shoe forward to stop it, and slithered inside. 

"So, how much you figure we cleared off all these dumb coppers anyway?" Aaron asked his beloved mother as they came to a stop in front of a large open metal floor that showcased the ocean beneath them, the endless void of the ocean.

"The exact amount almost doesn't matter, darling" Oswalda stated looking down at the ocean and then to her sons. "Embezzling thousands from Gotham's finest right under their stupid noses is a treasure in and of itself" she joked, causing her sons to let out hefty laughs. Y/N was sat behind numerous crates, rapidly writing everything down, a set of notes for the paper, which would also prove useful for the Spider. "But I'll tell you what made tonight truly unforgettable. It was learning that one of my sweet, precious, little angels sold me out" she declared, spite clear in her voice as her eyes narrowed on her boys. 

"Wait what?" Aaron exclaimed in surprise. "No, Mama we never..."

"It was Aaron!" Ronald accused pointing a finger loudly. "It had to be him!

"What? Come on! Ronnie's the one who's always saying crap behind your back!" Aaron shot back in his defence, this caused both sons to get in the others faces and shout wild accusations. 

"Boys, boys, please" Oswalda stated calming her sons down. "Mama already knows which one of you it is" stated, walking forward right in front of Aaron. Her looked was calm and collected, but one could tell by the look on Oswalda's face she was planning something nefarious. 

Aaron's face instantly fell into state of panic. "No! No, I didn't. You found the rat, Mama. Yeah. He said it was that Clarence guy. It wasn't me. I swear, it wasn't me" he tried to plea, but this fell on deaf ears. 

"Sounds kind of guilty, don't he, Mama?" Ronnie smugly said. 

"Did you, uh, remember to eat something at the party, Mama?" Aaron asked, as tears welled up in his eyes. He knew what his dear old mama did to rats. "'Cause I know you get a little testy sometimes when you're hungry. Please, Mama. Please, don't. No, please!" he continued to plead  as his mother brought her fingers up to er sons lips to silence him. 

"It's okay, baby. You know Mama never holds a grudge... " she calmed her son down, her voice sooth and calming. "...for long" she finished, just then, Aaron had a bag thrown over his face and he quickly began to yell out in fear and panic. Iggy picked up Aaron and threw the panicking blonde into a large coffin which he quickly sealed shut and locked. 

"NOOOO MAMA PLEASE!" Aaron shouted from within the coffin, pounding and punching trying desperately to save his own life. 

Y/N wanted to move, he wanted to save this mans life, but he couldn't. He didn't have his gear, and there were more goons guarding the other side of the room he'd be outnumbered. 

Iggy then picked up the coffin, and threw the heavy object into the large grate, the coffin quickly sinking into the ocean depths. Aaron yelling, pleading, whatever he could as his oxygen rapidly began to run out. 

"He was my favourite" Oswalda stated, looking down at the disappearing coffin. While they were all distracted, Y/N decided to take his leave, Y/N was not needed here, the Spider was. "Guess that makes you my favourite now" Oswalda finished, as she turned and began to make her out of the room, leaving a shaken Ronnie to stand there, fear clear in his eyes. 

-------------------------

The gala soon came to an end, quite early in fact around 7PM, allowing many people to resume their jobs. The sober GCPD officers returned to duty, Barbara opted to return to her office she had some files to finish up on. But as Barbara was finishing up, she could make out a shadow creeping outside her office door. Quickly and silently Barbara moved to grab a nearby baseball bat she had stashed away, but as she quickly opened the door Barbara was met with the frightened face of Ronnie Cobblepot.

"Oh sweetie, thank god, I was hoping you'd be here" his expression instantly changing to one of someone trying to be calm. 

"Call me that again, and you're gonna lose some teeth" Barbara spat back, her grip on the bat tightening slightly. "What do you want?"

"I need your help sweet...." Ronald cut himself off as he chose his words very carefully. "Miss Gordon, she's gonna kill me.....my mama" he added. 

"What?"

"She is not what she looks like. She runs a mob" Ronnie explained, his brain moving a million miles a minute as he tried desperately to save his own skin. Stuttering over his own words. "She's a scary lady! Please, you gotta help me" he continued to plead. 

" Why me?" Barbara asked, slightly lowering the bat. 

"Your dad's the only cop in Gotham. I know for sure isn't bent. Can you take me to see him? I'll tell him everything" Ronnie pressed, almost begging for his own safety. 

"I'm busy" was all Barbara replied with, trying to close the door on Ronnie which he pushed back against. 

"Mama just killed my brother, right in front of me!" he yelled right in Barbara's face, and this seemed to get through to the lawyer. Her expression softening as she finally began to listen to the panicked man. 

-------------------------

All the while, Y/N stood before the cracked mirror in his dimly lit apartment. He reached for the black trench coat draped across the chair, its leather cold and heavy in his hands. Pulling it on, he tightened the straps around his wrists, the material creaking as it fit snugly over his body. 

With a deep breath, Y/N pulled the black mask over his face, its dark lenses reflecting his own steely eyes. Gone was the giddy, smiling reporter. Cloaked in shadows, ready to prowl the night. He holstered his revolver, the same weapon that took Uncle Ben from him, and checked the web cartridges strapped to his waist. In this suit, he stood something else entirely, he became someone else, the Spider.

-------------------------

"Oh, why did I have to pick Thorne over my mother?" Ronnie pondered out loud as he and Bar sped down the Gotham streets in her car, his panic had turned into rambles questioning every decision he had made. "I mean, what a sap I am! Who cares if she deserved it, or that she's more of a monster than a mother? I just had to be a big shot, right? Oh, always had to be a big shot!".

"Hey Ronald how about you stop the whining at least until-" before Barbara could finish, a car immediately rammed them from behind. 

"Oh, God, she found me! I'm cooked!" the car rammed them once again. 

"Okay hold on to something" Barbara warned, as she took a sharp left turn, rubber tires screeching as she rounded the corner. She had not lost the car in pursuit, as now the passenger was hanging out, unloading bullets from his tommy gun into Barbara's car shattering the rear window. This caused Ronnie to whine even more as bullets sprang past him and he called for his Mama to rescue him. 

"Knock it off, here take the wheel" Barbara pressed as they were entering another street, inching closer to the GCPD. "Take the DAMN WHEEL!" she repeated to a hesitant Ronnie who took hold of it as Barbara herself leant out the window, revolver grasped tightly in both hands. 

Barbara returned fire to the pursuing car, knocking out one of its headlights. This only caused the tommy gun wielding thug to reload and continue his onslaught of bullets. Ronnie losing control, caused the bar to drive through several trash cans causing Barbara's car to scratch and dent up as it powered through. Barbara leant back into the car, pushing Ronnie out of the way as she regained control of the wheel. Unsure of where she was, Barbara came to a screeching halt as she ended up in an alleyway, her and Ronnie stumbling out as they took cover behind the car.

The pursing car, and an additional one came to a halt on the other side of the street. Three men identical suits with purple bow ties and tommy guns exited the pursuing car, while three men wielding revolvers exited the second car but remained back for support. The tommy guns thugs inched forward, loading their weapons with devious smirks on their faces. Barbara looked to her revolver, knowing she was low on amno, but still aimed forward with determination filling her shaking hands. 

Just as the tommy guns thugs were approaching, a load screeching noise could be heard. Almost like a wailing siren screaming out in pain, but still silent at the same time startling the thugs. They were all knocked out of the way, as a large, slim black body of a car slammed into their bodies. The vehicle slit in place, revealing it to be some kind of custom made automobile designed for Gotham's Bat vigilante, a Batmobile if you will. 

Just as the Batmobile was about the spring into action on the second group of thugs, something flipped atop the car they were stationed around. Something sleek, leather, all black, with two white eyes that starred into their very souls. 

Two thugs found jaws suddenly attached to two webs, their heads slamming into the side of the car and instantly breaking one off the thugs noses and knocking the other out. Blood spraying as the third and final thug looked the the mysterious figure, who crept along the top of the car on all four limbs nearing him, his hands not obeying his commands out of pure fear. 

The Spider then latched forward, punching the thug in the face creating a satisfying groan of pain for the vigilante. He then wrapped both of his hands to the back of the thugs head, and with his mouth still open from the groan, slammed his teeth into the metal hood of the car, smashing one of the front teeth. The Spider rose up slowly, looking at the three knocked out thugs. 

Barbara looked on, shocked to see not one, but two of these seemingly mythical vigilantes at the same time. From inside his car, Batman nodded to the red headed Gordon, followed by her nodding back and Spider doing the same. Then, the Bat and the Spider looked at one another. Two beings who dispensed their own sense of justice, had never met, never interacted until now. A stare that could be interpreted many different ways. Both knew where the other was going, but whether it be out of fear, hatred, or a desire to bring the other in, but both vigilantes looked at one another, and departed.

The Batmobiles engines roared to life, and the automobile left the area with the engine echoing in the distance. 

While Spider looked upwards, and shot out two webs which pulled him up into the Gotham rooftops. Where he'd make his way towards the Iceberg Lounge which had now departed the docks. 

-------------------------

"I'm telling you, we gotta leave right now. We gotta go somewhere else, somewhere secret" Ronnie pleaded, he was now sat at the desk of Commissioner James Gordon who stood in front of the desk while his daughter sat on it next to him. The poor son of Oswalda in front of them frightened for his life. 

"Told hold on son, we can protect you" Gordon assured but Ronnie wouldn't listen. 

"No, that was before. But now my mom is after me. She knows! She knows!" he repeated, sounding like a mad man. 

"You're in police custody" Jim tried to assure him once again, trying to stay calm and collected. "This isn't-"

"Don't you get it!" Ronnie shouted, frustrated as from his point of view, no one was taking him seriously. "She's got cops on her payroll, and one of them had to see me come in" he tried to explain. 

And while Jim was confused that some of his cops could be that dirty, Arnold Flass sipped a cup of coffee as he leant against the door of the Commissioners office, hearing the whole thing. Bullock came up to Flass asking what all the commotion was about, looking half drunk, his tie wasn't straight, hair unkempt, and smelled like a dumpster. "You need to make a call" was all Flass said. 

"The woman is a criminal genius, she's been running rings around you guys for months" Ronnie explained, finally gathering his thoughts and explaining everything. "You think Thorne's buildings are suddenly blowing up all over town by accident? Mama bought herself a customized military-grade, long-range cannon. She's got it rigged up on the Iceberg. With that thing, she could hit any place in Gotham she wants: warehouses, apartments, police stations. You get it now?" he asked, sounding almost sane at this notion with both Gordons looking at one another. 

"I'll have the coast guard bring in the Iceberg Lounge" Jim said as he rushed to his phone on the desk, "Barbara!" he called, his daughter then pulling the firearm. Ushering everyone in the main offices to leave immediately. 

At the same time this was happening, Oswalda prepared to make her power move. The crates Y/N had seen earlier were moved onto a lift that took Oswalda, Iggy and a few goons to the top of the ship where the 'prop' top hat and umbrella were located. With a pull of a level and loading of ammunition, the umbrella fabric was removed to reveal the very cannon Ronnie spoke of. Controls near the gang perfect for Oswalda as she smiled to herself, first GCPD, then Thorne.

-------------------------

The docks were quiet, the dark waters of Gotham Harbor. The only sound came from the low murmur of two men standing beside a small powerboat, their cigarettes glowing faintly in the darkness. 

They hadn't noticed the figure silently approaching, cloaked in the shadows, his trench coat blending seamlessly with the night.

One of the men yawned, rubbing his neck as he stretched, unaware of the horror that stalked him. A second later, a thin, nearly silent thwip broke the silence, and his cigarette was ripped from his mouth, webbed to a nearby pole. His eyes widened in confusion as he looked around, his hand reflexively reaching for his holstered gun.

"Hey, what the—?"

Before he could finish his sentence, the other man was yanked off his feet, disappearing into the shadows with a muffled scream. The first thug turned, his hand shaking as he pulled his revolver. His eyes darted frantically, scanning the empty docks for any sign of movement. His breath quickened, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

Then, out of the darkness, two glowing white eyes appeared, staring at him. The figure was nearly invisible, only the faint outline of a tall man draped in black leather visible against the dim lights of the harbor. The white lenses, however, were unmistakable pools of light that pierced straight into the thug's soul.

"W-who are you?" the thug stammered, backing up, his gun trembling in his hand.

The Spider didn't answer. He didn't need to. In a blur of motion, he was on the man, disarming him with a flick of his wrist. The gun clattered to the ground, and the thug found himself lifted off his feet, slammed against the side of the boat with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

The Spider held him there, webbing pinning the man's arms to the side of the hull. His face inches from the thug's, those white, soulless eyes locked onto his. 

"You're gonna tell me how to start that boat," the Spider growled, his voice low and menacing, like gravel scraping against steel.

The thug whimpered, shaking his head violently. "I-I don't—"

"Now," the Spider hissed, tightening his grip. The thug's breath came out in short, panicked gasps. He could feel the strength in the Spider's hands, the inhuman power behind the mask. There was no escape. No pleading would save him.

"O-Okay! Okay!" the thug cried, pointing frantically to the console. "The keys are in it! You just press the button! Please, don't—"

The Spider released him, stepping back as the man slumped to the ground, trembling. Without another word, the Spider walked over to the boat, quickly stepping inside and turning over the engine. The motor roared to life. 

Without another word, the Spider pushed the throttle forward, the boat surging through the black waters toward the looming silhouette of the Iceberg Lounge.

Without wasting any time, Spider brought the powerboat to a stop beneath the looming ship. His eyes flicked between the cannon and the vigilante above, calculating his move. In one swift motion, he shot two weblines and yanked himself upward, ascending rapidly through the air. Both vigilantes reached the top of the ship at the exact same moment, their arrival silent yet commanding.

"There!" Oswalda barked, her voice brimming with excitement as the cannon came into position. "Okay, boys, let's load it up!" Her eyes gleamed with sinister delight, but her joy was short-lived. Just as she turned to oversee her men, her gaze fell upon the sight of her two goons being swiftly dealt with by the masked vigilantes.

Batman moved with brutal efficiency, his fists slamming into one thug's face repeatedly, each punch drawing grunts of pain that echoed in the night air. The thug's body recoiled with every hit, his resistance fading as the Dark Knight mercilessly overpowered him. Meanwhile, Spider took on the second thug, his webbing expertly shot to cover the man's face, blinding him instantly. With a quick, forceful pull, Spider dragged the man into a crushing headlock. He delivered a series of powerful blows to the thug's midsection, each strike landing with precision, driving the air from the man's lungs until he was left gasping, barely able to stand.

"Well I'll be dammed Virginia" Oswalda swore looked at the darkly dressed vigilantes. "The Batman and the Spider-Man really do exist" she said, getting the laters name wrong. "Iggy, break these jerks in half" she commanded, snapping her fingers as her primary enforcer stepped forward. 

"Yes ma'am" he spoke with glee. 

Iggy surged forward, targeting Batman first. Swinging his fist wild, relying on his brute strength alone. This made it easy for the Bat to duck under said punches and land a few easy shots in, but as Batman threw another punch, it was caught by Iggy. Who using his strength bent the knuckle back threatening to break it, but was then met by a flying kick from the Spider who who flipped off of Iggy and landed on his feet. 

Iggy was met with a punch to the face from Batman, and then one to the gut from Spider. But he snapped his leg forward and kicked the Spider away, allowing him to easily pick Batman up entirely and throw him like a bowling ball towards Spider. Both vigilantes colliding but then instantly back on their feet, not even saying a word to another. 

Spider shot out a web, thwipping Iggy's left hand who swung his right towards a charging Batman. Batman grabbed hold of Iggy's free hand, and with great force snapped his thumb back, breaking it causing the large man to shout out in pain.

Batman then dropped a metal ball, which spewed out gas causing Iggy to cough up as Batman took a step back. Just as Batman as about to deliver his own final blow, Iggy was pulled towards Spider by the web to his hand. Detaching the web, Spider allowed the momentum of the pull to send Iggy tumbling down into the waters below. 

"Scratch one police station" Oswalda smiled as she was about to hit the fire switch. But before she could, a bat shaped projectile lodged itself in the cannons controls, turning. Oswalda saw both vigilantes standing there, defiantly. "Okay Dracula and Itsy Bitsy, you asked for it!" she called out, reaching for her umbrella. Flipping a switch on it, a blade popped out the end as she pointed it towards Batman and Spider. 

While Oswalda was old, she was clearly made of stern stuff. Swinging the blade wildly keeping the two vigilantes off balance, one swing even almost cut the coat of Spider. Oswalda swung her blade towards Batman, but a web thwipped itself to her elbow stopping the attack in its tracks as Spider held it back, allowing Batman an opening to pummel the old woman, 

"Attention! This is the United States Coast Guard" a voice cut through the fight as a light shined upon them. Three coast guard craft surrounded the Iceberg Lounge, Oswalda was finished. 

"Funs over freaks, get out of my way" the mobster spoke, bringing the umbrella blade down onto Batman, who caught it with both hands and flipped Oswalda over himself towards the cannon. Just as Oswalda picked herself and moved to the cannon, Spider landed in-between her and the device. She stabbed her umbrella forward, which Spider easily blocked with an under arm block, but Oswalda smiled. She didn't attack with the blade, but the handle of the umbrella. And with a quick pull, 

BANG 

The cannon fired, creating a sound that rung in Spiders ears as the shot rained towards the GCPD. But luckily, thanks to the actions of the Gordons, everyone had been evacuated and just in the nick of time. As just as the Gordons were outside, the shot from the cannon impacted with the GCPD. Blowing it sky-high. 

"See that?" Oswalda asked, as her wrists were webbed up and she looked towards the destruction and carnage. "And now we all...." she looked back, hoping to gloat to the heroes. "....Lose" she finished, her voice drifting off as she saw she had no one to gloat to. 

Escaping the Lounge would prove difficult for the Spider.......but not impossible. 

-------------------------

"We got lucky" Barbara voiced, her and her father viewing the raging fire that was once the GCPD from a  distance. Wreckage surrounded them, but no was killed. 

"Yeah. But we moved fast too" Gordon responded, his eyes not moving from the fire. "Made some of that luck on our own".

"Yeah I guess so" was all Barbara responded with. 

"Hey guys" the voice of Y/N cut across, holding his pen and paper with his camera around his shoulders, writing down everything eagerly. "Busy night?" he asked with a smile. 

"You could say that" Barbara responded, with her own smile, happy to see her friend especially at a time like this.

-------------------------

Extracts from the Journal of Y/N 

I didn't sleep again. The Spider wouldn't let me.

The streets of Gotham are colder at night, but it's not the chill that gnaws at me. It's the rot, the decay hiding behind every alley and shadow, where men like Rupert Thorne thrive. The king of the underworld, some call him. To me, he's just another beast another parasite feeding on the weak. Thorne and his men run this city, making their dirty deals, poisoning everything they touch. The cops are scared, bought off, or worse—loyal. There's no justice here, not unless I make it.

The Spider had me crawl through Thorne's territory, Thorne's thugs are smart, but they're scared of me. They should be. But I need to push harder. I need to tear down the whole empire. One man won't stop me. None of them will.

It's never enough, though, is it? I should've been there for Uncle Ben. That's why I need to keep going, why the Spider always pulls me back out there. I let him die. And no matter how many criminals I take down, I can't change that. He's gone because I failed.

The Spider reminds me of that every night. He is me. And I am him. We won't stop until we've wiped the filth clean from Gotham, until the city drowns in its own guilt. Maybe then I'll finally sleep.

But not tonight.

Author's Note 

And there we go first real chapter done and dusted. I do hope you enjoyed, this took a while cause, A) I wanted to world build a bit. B) I started my Masters course and been super busy. But I hope this was okay. 

Tried some new stuff I haven't really done before in writing, small stuff. Using lines to break up scenes, more GIFs than usual. Let me know what you think. 

Went for something I haven't done before except with Long Halloween, really want to delete into that 'this man is mentally disturbed' angle with this Y/N. Something I think hasn't really been done before with Spider-Man stories, so this one is a little different. Let me know what you think about Y/Ns portrayal. 

If you haven't watched this show, highly suggest you do. Only 10 episodes, 20 minutes each, I binged them all in one night with my big bro and loved every minute. 

Anyway,

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