The Spider Assassin #56
The throw came high and right.
A batarang flying faster and with more energy than Batman's usual, standard, throw.
Jake's left hand snapped up and caught it mid-flight. His new fingers closed around reinforced metal with strength that made the weapon crumple like aluminum foil. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming -- power flowing through rebuilt architecture that felt denser than anything biology should produce.
He dropped the crushed batarang. The sound of metal hitting pavement echoed across the intersection with finality that made the Batfamily shift their stances.
Nightwing's escrima sticks crackled with renewed voltage. Red Hood's guns tracked Jake's center mass with professional patience.
Batman's expression didn't change behind the cowl. His tactical mind was already recalculating threat assessment based on new data.
Jake could see it in his body language -- the fractional shift in stance, the way his hand moved to a different section of his belt, the slight adjustment in breathing that suggested preparation for escalation.
"You couldn't save me." The words escaped Jake's mouth before conscious thought engaged. Raw. Bitter. Carrying weight he'd been suppressing through four floors of professional killers and accumulated violence. "I wanted you to save me."
Batman's white eyes narrowed fractionally. "I told you to leave Gotham when you had the chance. You should have listened then."
The memory surfaced unbidden. Their first confrontation. Batman's warning delivered with absolute certainty. Leave or face consequences that survival couldn't guarantee.
"Don't try to turn this around." Jake's left hand clenched into a fist. The black material responded perfectly, orange-red veins pulsing brighter with each heartbeat. "You failed. I know you could've saved me. You chose not to."
The accusation hung in the air between them. Batman's jaw tightened behind the cowl but his voice remained level when he responded.
"And because of that choice," Jake continued, his voice dropping to something dangerous, "you're about to face what Gotham turned me into."
"You did that to yourself."
The words landed like voltage through Jake's spine. His spider-sense spiked with rage that had nothing to do with external threat and everything to do with the refusal to acknowledge responsibility. Batman stood there in his armor and certainty, refusing to accept that his inaction had consequences beyond tactical calculation.
Jake launched.
His enhanced strength channeled through legs that had been rebuilt by chemicals and toxins and now optimized by living shadow. The pavement cracked beneath his feet. His trajectory carried him across the intersection faster than Batman's enhanced reflexes could fully track.
Batman's hand moved to his belt with practiced efficiency. Something small and metallic flew toward Jake's approaching form. The canister tumbled through air with perfect rotation.
Fear toxin.
Jake's analytical mind cataloged the threat automatically. Concentrated Scarecrow formula. Inferior to the variant that had purged his corruption and restored his cardiovascular function.
The canister detonated mere inches from Jake's face.
Gray-green mist enveloped him completely. His enhanced perception tracked every molecule. His lungs pulled the compound deep with breathing that moved air efficiently through restored biology.
Nothing happened.
Fear required something to fear. Required the capacity to imagine outcomes worse than present circumstances. Required neural pathways that could process terror as motivation rather than just chemical stimulus.
Jake had drowned twice in chemicals that rewrote baseline psychology. Had cut off his own arm to prevent corruption from spreading. Had faced the Reaper with absolute certainty that death was approaching and chosen to fight anyway.
Fear was a language his brain no longer spoke.
He emerged from the gas cloud with left hand already swinging. Batman tried to dodge but Jake's speed had increased beyond what their previous encounters suggested possible. Enhanced strength met Kevlar-reinforced jaw with impact that should have sent the Dark Knight flying.
Except, Batman's cape had swept forward to obscure Jake's vision. The Dark Knight stumbled, recovered immediately and drove his leg toward Jake's damaged ribs.
Jake's right hand caught Batman's ankle mid-strike. Gripped. Pulled.
Batman's balance broke. He went down hard, rolling with the impact and coming up with another device already in hand.
The foam grenade detonated at Jake's feet. Expanding polymer designed to harden on contact spread in a cone that would have trapped him completely.
His left hand pressed against the concrete. Heat surged through the black material. The orange-red veins flared brighter as something viscous began seeping from his palm.
Green webbing.
The substance spread across the foam with chemical hunger. Where they made contact, the polymer began dissolving. Eaten away by toxin remnants stored at the edges of Jake's severed elbow, now accessed and weaponized by the symbiote's intuitive optimization.
The foam collapsed into hissing puddles. Jake straightened while Batman processed the implication with visible tension in his shoulders.
"You can't prepare for everything I've become," Jake said quietly. His left hand flexed, testing the sensation of green strands forming at will.
The symbiote was reacting to his altered biology. Jake could feel individual muscle strands energizing from the unused traces of Kobra-Venom in his bloodstream. Efficient optimization.
"I've faced worse monsters." Batman's voice carried absolute conviction.
Jake's spider-sense exploded into overwhelming threat assessment. Nightwing's escrima sticks were crackling to his right.
He sidestepped the high-voltage attack, legs driving him upward to avoid Batgirl's sweep. Left hand fired green webbing, pulling him away.
He landed on the nearby wall. Stuck there with enhanced adhesion while the Batfamily repositioned below.
Then Red Hood fired. Bullets flying with calculated precision that surpassed the random chaos of well positioned turrets.
Jake dodged and swung out of the way. The bullets followed, positioned at the predetermined endpoints of his trajectories.
Jake dropped from the wall with impact that cracked pavement. Red Hood repositioned his weapons while still firing. Bullets aimed for Jake's center mass, punching through his suit. He let them.
Stood still as the symbiote adjusted around each bullet and spit it out before it could reach his skin.
"Nhh," Red Hood ceased fire.
Jake's upper body burned with sudden intensity. Muscle mass expanded beneath the black material. His biceps and chest swelled with architecture that looked compressed. Engineered. The traces of Kobra-Venom were being turned into temporary enhancement that made his already superior strength spike to levels that physics struggled to support.
"When you said he was unpredictable, this isn't what I had in mind," Nightwing said to Batman. "Tell me you've got a contingency that actually works."
"Gas masks," Batman said immediately. His hand moved to his belt. "Now."
They responded instantly. Sealed breathing apparatus deploying from their suits with technology that suggested Batman had prepared for exactly this scenario.
Jake's skin was secreting something. Invisible at first. Just sensation like sweat except this carried purpose beyond temperature regulation.
"You sensed the pheromones," Jake said when the familiar scent hit him. Mostly altered from how Ivy's pheromone smelled, but Jake already knew it was the symbiote's doing.
Sleeper: he was beginning to understand it. While it enhanced his physical attributes further, it was more chemical based. Hence the efficient optimizations that made it even possible to use green webbing again.
It was intoxicating him with power. Made him ridiculously stronger. Faster. Feel more dangerous.
"Do you really have a contingency that would work?" Jake asked, curious.
Batman's expression hardened behind the cowl. "Surrender yourself and you won't have to find out."
Jake's eyes found Batman's through the mask. Searched them. "I don't think you've got it."
"I'm giving you the safe option first," Batman's voice carried command. "There's good in you that can still be saved. It's just wrapped around in bad decisions."
Jake's laugh came out bitter. "Good? In me? After you just called me a monster?" His left hand clenched. "I know you, Batman. More than you'd like to believe."
"I know your trauma. Your strengths. Your weaknesses. I've studied you like a devoted fan studies his hero." Jake continued. "Enough to know that forgiveness isn't your favorite suit when breaking bones is the more efficient solution."
"I wasn't trying to forgive you." Batman's tone remained level. Absolute. "You still have to atone for everything you've done. Surrender now, and maybe we can talk."
The offer hung in smoke-tainted air. Jake's spider-sense painted it as genuine. Batman believed negotiation was possible. Believed that somewhere beneath the chemicals and corruption and accumulated violence was someone who could be saved.
"That would be the smart choice." Jake's voice carried acknowledgment. "But it requires time. Time I can't afford to waste anymore."
"Time? Is that why you stole from Gotham?" Batman asked. "Why you wanted the Batmobile?"
"Why do you need these things?"
The question thundered in Jake's ears.
"They are necessary." Jake's jaw tightened. "Crucial for my survival."
"But unsustainable," Batman's words were efficient. "You need a better approach."
"This is the only way," Jake said.
"There's always another way," Batman's voice was measured.
The words rang in Jake's ears like a bell reminding him of something important. Words he'd heard countless times before but was starting to understand that he'd never really believed in them.
That statement only worked in stories -- where the plot driving the narrative always worked for the protagonist. But this wasn't a story. Not anymore. It was real. Every experience he'd suffered had been as real as the fire burning through Gotham.
And he was standing before Batman. The power difference between them abysmal. Sure as day that he could end the Dark Knight in this moment if he chose to.
Whatever conviction he'd ever had that the heroes always saved the day was quickly eroding like his toxic webbing did to fabric. If they did-- if Batman could-- it wouldn't be in the nick of time as it happened in the stories.
"Finding another way requires time, sacrifice, and fate aligning to guarantee success," Jake said, firmly. "All things that you can't promise to grant."
"You're right. I can't promise those things." Batman's voice carried weight that went beyond immediate confrontation. "But it shouldn't push you further from the truth: You are bound by chains that require breaking. A corruption you can choose to rise above."
"I find the idea of overcoming you more fruitful than this conversation," Jake said with a tone of finality.
"My answer is no," His jaw relaxed. "I won't surrender. I will still take something of great value to you. Keep taking until I don't have to anymore."
"Stop me if you can."
Batman's jaw clenched. "Fine."
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