LOOTING DC #12. DC vs. Jake
The Watchtower.
Silence reigned.
A tactical table stood at the center. A holographic display on top of it.
The Justice League circled the table - icons of power, each with their own dominion. But in here, in this moment, they were just uneasy colleagues waiting for someone to speak.
Green Arrow exhaled sharply through his nose and finally broke the silence. "Let's start with the obvious. The Titans want independence. Fine. Let them have it. But they're still using League resources - Zeta access, satellite intel, medtech. The Tower. And they're not exactly paying us back in results."
There were nods - not agreement, but acknowledgment. League diplomacy.
"They're still effective," Wonder Woman countered. "Just… not in the same mold. They stand for justice in their own way. They're building something."
"Yes," Hawkman rumbled. "But what kind of name are they building?"
No one answered.
Aquaman leaned forward, fingers sliding a map aside to reveal another feed. "Which brings us to the Team - our black ops division, if we're still pretending. Recon, deep-threat containment, and support. But if they're supposed to be covert, someone forgot to tell them."
"You mean that team with Superboy?" Hal asked, throwing a glance at Superman. "Thought they had potential. What happened?"
Aquaman tapped the table. The display changed. A burning convoy. Flickers of a reconstructed android tearing through concrete. "Amazo happened."
The tension in the room clenched.
"They were escorting its disassembled parts to a STAR Labs facility. Simple job. Low risk."
"And it ended with Amazo within seconds of turning them into corpses," Aquaman said flatly.
"Yikes," Hal muttered.
"But it didn't," a voice said from the far side of the room.
Black Canary, leaning back against a console, arms crossed. Her tone didn't rise, but it didn't need to.
"They survived. They adapted. They covered for each other. That kind of instinct? That's something we can't teach."
"That's not the point," Hawkman cut in. "We don't train them to get lucky fighting high-tier threats."
"They should've called us," Hawkgirl added. "The second those M.O.N.Q.I.s intercepted the transport, protocol dictated escalation. Instead, they tried to handle it alone."
"And succeeded," Canary said evenly.
"For now," Hawkman said. "Until the next screw-up costs someone their life."
"Enough."
The word sliced through the air like a batarang.
Batman hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. But the room turned to him anyway. He sat still, shadowed, the tips of his fingers pressed together in thought.
He looked calm and controlled - like he was calculating. Planning. More than usual.
Superman cleared his throat, trying to loosen the knot in the air. "We'll address protocol revisions, but there's another concern."
The hologram shifted again.
A figure hovered above the table - draped in shadow, her cloak blending with the dark. The crimson gem on her forehead pulsed like a heartbeat. Static flickered around her edges, as if reality itself struggled to hold her image.
Raven.
"There's been a development," Superman said, voice even. "One that may warrant reevaluation of our prior position."
He turned slightly. Wonder Woman took the hint with a nod.
"Our Dark division picked up an astral disturbance late last night - subtle, but unmistakable." Her tone was calm, deliberate. "The energy signature matches prior incursions tied to Trigon. It was brief, but strong enough to suggest a rift is beginning to open again."
She glanced around the room, pausing to let it settle.
"According to the report, something - or someone - on our side is acting as a beacon. Amplifying his reach. It's not a full breach… not yet. But his influence is stretching farther than it should. And if it continues unchecked..."
She didn't finish.
"And we think Raven is the beacon?" Hal asked.
"The Justice League Dark believes she's the closest match," Wonder Woman said firmly. "The readings point to her."
"Raven's been through this before," Black Canary added, quietly. "She's fought against him every time."
"This time it's different," Wonder Woman asserted. "Believe it or not, the readings show that Trigon's growing stronger."
"Is that even possible?" Flash reacted.
"Oh yeah," Hal replied to the Flash. "The threshold to how a strong a being can grow in the universe is boundless."
"We could be looking at a nigh extinction event if this isn't handled fast," Superman added.
"The Titans won't take this well," Flash muttered, glancing toward Batman with something like hope.
But the Dark Knight didn't budge.
He didn't blink. Didn't shift. His silhouette stayed rigid, carved from stone and shadow.
And no one dared to engage him directly - not yet. There was something in the way he held himself... something that said not now.
Not yet.
🕸️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕸️
Thwip!
Jackpot.
Now pull - nice, easy, fast.
Knees bent. Centered.
Classic web-sling and kick - a Parker favorite.
Then came the wall-bounce uppercut. Great for crowd control. Jake nailed the timing.
Web-Zip Tackle.
Spinning Heel-Kick Disarm.
Double Web-Yank Counter.
Flawless. Classic Spidey choreography.
And Jake executed it like second nature.
He landed and stood still for a beat, chest rising, arms loose at his sides. He wanted to bask in the quiet pride of pulling that off-
But-
"FUUUUUUUUUUU-KKKKKKKK!!!!"
His neck snapped back, hands clutching at his mask as he screamed skyward, frustration erupting like a geyser into the evening air.
Two reasons.
First: Classic Spider-Man fighting styles were... boring. Too careful. Too considerate of the opponent. Too bound by physics.
Jake wasn't Peter Parker.
With his physique, he knew he could yank someone's face clean off with a web. Dismember someone just by pulling too fast. Shatter a spine just by zipping mid-tug.
And guess what? He didn't even have to try.
It was baked into his physique and powers.
Yet somehow, all this time, he'd been holding back. Maybe from instinct. Maybe his body still hadn't fully adapted. But now - with a little technique layered onto the raw power - he realized just how easy it'd be to go from hero to horror show.
And that wasn't even the most frustrating part.
Second reason:
The Bat-Files.
What a frickin' info dump.
Unless Gotham's political history is your kink, the whole thing read like a conspiracy theorist's dream journal. Batman had files dissecting the founding families, corrupt officials, centuries of scandals - basically, a roadmap charting Gotham's descent from the Dark Ages to the darker ages.
None of which helped Jake.
No secret lairs. No vaults of prototype tech. No trail to some Gotham treasure cache.
Just one note buried in the Red Hood Files - a brief mention of lost treasure hidden in the Gotham Underground, part of a "dead mythology" Batman dismissed with his usual surgical cynicism.
Typical.
Also typical? The Red Hood Files read like a borderline obsession. Batman had tracked Jason Todd - former Robin, killed by the Joker, resurrected by the League of Assassins - like he was documenting a ghost he couldn't let go of.
Recent activity: a raid on a WayneTech facility.
Then - off-grid.
Coincidentally, the same day Joker broke out of Arkham.
Needless to say, after reading the Bat-Files, Jake felt both enlightened and confused.
Hence - frustrated.
Red Hood active during the Young Justice timeline?
That didn't add up.
Unless…
Robin threw a shuriken at me.
That felt more Damian Wayne than Dick Grayson.
But how is that even possible?
It shouldn't be.
What next? The Titans instead of the Outsiders?
Jonathan Kent replacing Connor?
What timeline is this?!
Fuuuuck!
Really. What timeline is this?
What's the point of everything he knew - every fact, every name, every event - if the universe was just gonna mash it all together like some chaotic fanfic?
This felt like math class again: one clean example, then chaos during a test.
So now what?
Still on track to establish himself in Gotham.
But it's not like he could just start blackmailing politicians tonight.
First, he needed to blow off some steam.
Think.
Refocus.
Plan counters for whatever other cards had been shuffled in this crazy deck.
Jake stashed his belongings in a secure corner.
Unless a mutated rat came by, the laptop, the files, and the few gadgets he'd swiped from the Batcave should be safe from theft or spontaneous combustion.
All set.
He launched into the air, swinging toward the amber edge of the skyline.
"I hope the criminals are busy tonight," he whispered to the wind.
"I've got something new I wanna try."
Don't panic AT ALL. I'm not dead yet. And you don't gotta tell me. I already know I need to write more chapters. 👇😉
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