LOOTING DC #34. The Scion Part 1
She hadn't expected fruit so early in her mission.
It was only her first night in Gotham, and she was still in reconnaissance - observe, map, mark. Nothing more. But even now, just hours into her sweep, she was certain of one thing:
Everything was important.
That's why she noticed them.
Three figures, lying still on a rooftop. Gotham was unpredictable, yes - but this? This was too strange. People didn't just sleep on rooftops. Not here.
From her vantage point, she couldn't make out much in the dark, but she could tell: two male, one female. The positioning was... odd. Not the aftermath of a fight. No blood. No scent of violence. Not even the air was disturbed.
A trap?
She hesitated, fingers flexing. Her mission came first - but so did information. Every detail mattered. Every puzzle piece counted.
She moved.
Silent, as always. Her steps made no sound. Her breath, invisible. Her form flowed forward with purpose - low, gliding, aligned with the wind, never against it. Precision in motion.
She stopped just beyond their awareness.
Closer now, she could tell them apart. And she froze.
Recognition flared.
She knew the three of them - but only one mattered.
Still, she hadn't expected to find him so soon.
She blinked, once. Then her expression returned to its usual mask - cold, detached, watching.
What happened to him?
Had someone baited her?
She'd been careful. No traces. No mistakes.
His father? Unlikely. She knew he was a great detective, but he hadn't pieced her together yet.
Then who?
He was part of a team now. Was this their doing?
She hadn't accounted for their intel. Maybe. Perhaps.
Still - this was a chance. She could grab him, force him back. Complete the mission early. One strike. Done.
She lunged.
But the air flashed - gold, black, and white.
Her fingers missed by inches as a tear opened in the sky above.
She twisted mid-step, flipping backward, vanishing into shadow. Observing. Waiting.
A figure fell from the portal, folding out of reality like a page turning.
Male. Holding something.
No - two things.
A glowing length of golden cord.
And a child.
🕸️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕷️🕸️
Jake tumbled out of the portal, half-disoriented, half-aware - caught between the Web of Life and reality. Somewhere in that transition, everything had happened. None of it made sense.
All he knew was this: it felt like falling through an extinction event.
The Lasso of Truth had nearly slipped from his grasp - he'd clutched it like a drowning man to driftwood. And when the chaos spat him out the other side, he was holding a sleeping girl in his arms.
In Gotham skies...
Above the bodies of Roy, Artemis, and Damian.
He flipped forward and landed softly between the unconscious trio.
Jake shook his head, queasy from chaos-portal sickness. How Chaos Lords did this without snapping in half was beyond him.
"Not sure I'll ever get used to that," he muttered, trying to steady his balance. His thoughts realigned. Focus returned.
His gaze dropped to Lian, snoring gently against his chest. She was bigger now - the proper size for a two-year-old.
And he could feel it: the storm inside her had quieted. Not peace, not yet - but stillness. The Web had calmed her.
Jake looked at the Lasso. It was no longer just gold. Red web-like threads arched through its length - not fully corrupted, but unmistakably changed. Touched by chaos.
Energy didn't vanish. It shifted. Reformed. And the sixty days the Web had given him? That wasn't a grace period. It was a countdown. A warning.
Sixty days before Lian shattered again.
But for now... she was okay.
Not safe. Not really. The League - and others - would come looking. Anyone with eyes on chaos would track her down eventually.
Jake would've kept her in the Web of Life, but that wasn't an option. The Web had only suspended her, barely keeping her stabilized in that... portal-limbo dimension. It couldn't last.
How was he supposed to protect her? Until the day he actually needed her for the ritual?
The bodies around him began to stir.
Jake stepped toward Artemis, knowing she'd panic the moment she woke. He knelt beside her and whispered gently, "It's okay. You're okay."
Her eyes snapped open, wild and alert, landing on his mask. She looked like a startled antelope - tense, ready to bolt.
"Where are we?" she asked, already scanning.
"Gotham," Jake said. Flat. No elaboration. No mention of portals or totems or web dimensions. That wasn't anyone's business.
"And Lian?" Artemis turned sharply. "Where is she?"
Jake shifted his arm, revealing the sleeping child.
"You wanted to hold her," he started, softly. "It's okay. She's-"
BZZZTT.
His Spider-Sense tingled.
Of course it did. How could he forget about him?
Jake sighed, already handing Lian to Artemis.
"I'll explain later," he muttered, rising as he twisted toward the threat - heel kicking mid-turn.
It missed.
His target dodged smoothly, flipping out of range and launching a counterattack - a high, spinning volley kick.
Jake caught the leg - but not without cost.
A reactive heel slammed into his ribs. The attacker flipped back again, already resetting for another strike.
Jake winced, but stood tall. The impact stung, sure - but he'd taken worse.
"Impressive," he said, brushing off the hit. "But technique's worthless without power."
He stepped forward, planting his feet - centerline tight, stance firm.
"You should give up already. You already know you can't win against me, Robin."
The name hung in the air.
Damian stood opposite him now, blade-close, eager and silent. Tension rolled off him in waves.
But it wasn't just him anymore.
Creak.
Jake heard it - the subtle pull of a bowstring.
He turned slightly.
Roy stood at a safe distance, arrow nocked, arms steady.
"I don't know who you are," Roy said, tone sharp, eyes narrowed. "Or what your motive is. But stay away from my daughter."
Jake didn't flinch. His eyes stayed on Damian.
"She's safe," he said flatly. "I made sure of that."
Still to Roy, sharp: "Put the bow down. Before you make an enemy out of me."
Roy's gaze flicked to Artemis - and to Lian. Sleeping peacefully. Her size normal. Her expression calm.
Something in him softened.
"I don't know what you did," Roy admitted, lowering the bow slightly, "but I'm grateful. She looks... peaceful. For once."
Then, steel returned to his voice.
"But I trust Robin's judgment. If he's against you - I'm with him."
Jake's jaw tightened.
"Whatever's between me and Robin... isn't your concern," he said. The Batcave flashed in his mind - cold light, colder choices. "Stay out of it."
Silence spread. Thick. Heavy.
Damian's glare never wavered. His eyes dissected Jake - measuring, calculating. Every breath, every stance. His grip on the katana tightened.
Jake saw the hesitation. Damian wasn't rushing in - he was planning.
Jake smirked.
"That is... unless Batman's sidekick thinks he can't take me by himself."
That did it.
Damian drew the katana.
"Don't fall for it, Robin," Roy warned, stepping in. "I've got your back."
No one saw the batarang until it struck - slicing through the air and knocking the arrow clean off Roy's bow. Jake had sensed it, barely, but even he was impressed.
Fast. Controlled. Precise.
He couldn't even trace the draw.
"He's right," Damian said calmly, without taking his eyes off Jake. "This is my score to settle."
"The Spider is mine."
The calm in his voice gave Jake pause. It was too measured - almost surgical. It made him wonder: was Damian holding something back? A trick? A trump card?
But his Spider-Sense stayed quiet, and the Web of Life's profile on Damian was clear - Jake had the edge now.
Last time, it was different. They fought in darkness - Jake had been blind, and Robin hadn't. That had evened the field. And still, Jake had won. Almost killed him.
But now?
Now he had experience. Power. And no more fear.
The psychological weight of the Bat family - that looming legacy, that pressure - had crumbled the day he lost to Batman. Not because Bruce was stronger... but because Jake expected to lose. He'd unwittingly let himself be defeated.
That anchor was gone.
Jake straightened - posture sharp, eyes locked.
"Here's the deal," he said. "No cheap shots. No interference. No calling it even."
He cracked his neck.
"This ends one way."
Tt.
"Speak for yourself," Damian said, voice flat. "I only care about winning. And when I'm done - you better hope your head's still attached when they throw you in prison."
He charged.
Streak? Day 1/10
Spare me some Powerstones and I'll post an extra chapter in say, 5 hours?