Chapter 3 — The Encounter
Rain slid down Gotham's rooftops like silver veins.
The city pulsed beneath it — crooked lights, cracked alleys, the hiss of tires against wet asphalt.
To most, it was chaos.
To Gwen Stacy… it was music.
She crouched atop a corroded billboard that read "Welcome to Gotham — City of Tomorrow."
The irony wasn't lost on her.
Her hood flapped in the wind, droplets forming tiny constellations on her suit.
> "Patrol radius: two-point-four miles. Crime probability: thirty-eight percent,"
Weaver-12 intoned through her comm — that calm, omnipresent voice she'd learned to tolerate.
"Thirty-eight?" Gwen muttered. "You're cute. It's Gotham — start at ninety."
> "Correction: eighty-nine point six."
"See? You're learning sarcasm."
> "I am adapting."
She smiled beneath her mask, eyes narrowing as her lenses shifted to infrared.
Down below, a hundred lives burned like scattered embers through the rain — a city alive in its suffering.
---
She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the static hum behind her eyelids.
Her spider-sense — or rather, the chorus of it.
Twelve frequencies overlapping, whispering, move… watch… strike… wait… now.
Each voice a remnant of those who came before — Peter's courage, Miles' calm under pressure, Kaine's ferocity, Noir's focus.
Sometimes it was loud.
Sometimes it was unbearable.
Tonight, it was perfectly balanced.
She exhaled, rolled her shoulders, and leapt.
The city fell away beneath her.
Wind screamed past her hood as she dove headfirst, flipping gracefully before firing two web lines.
Thwip! Thwip!
She swung low, slicing through sheets of rain, boots skimming puddles as she arced upward again.
Her laughter echoed faintly — free, alive.
> "Adrenaline spike detected," Weaver noted.
"Caution: you are—"
"Having fun?" Gwen finished, smirking. "Yeah, I noticed."
> "...reckless."
"Same thing."
---
She landed lightly on a fire escape overlooking a dim street — the kind Gotham forgot existed.
A flickering neon sign buzzed below: Rico's Coffee & Copy Center.
That's when she noticed it.
A black van — too clean, too fast — barreling through a red light.
Her lenses zoomed in, the AI syncing instantly.
> "Vehicle unregistered. No plates. Traces of impact damage. Three occupants — one juvenile heartbeat detected."
"Juvenile?" Gwen tensed. "We talking hostage?"
> "Affirmative. Possible abduction pattern."
"Alright then…"
Her knuckles cracked. "Let's make some noise."
---
She shot a web to the nearest lamppost and launched herself forward.
Rain turned to mist in her wake.
As she swung, she activated her camouflage — her form rippling like water before vanishing into the night.
The van's driver never saw her coming.
A sudden thud rocked the roof.
Metal dented inward.
Invisible weight pressed against the frame.
Inside, one of the men shouted, "What the hell was that?!"
Gwen's voice drifted through the rain — distorted, playful.
"Traffic fairy."
The driver panicked and swerved.
She let herself flicker back into visibility — mask lenses glowing blue in the dark.
"Hi there!"
The man aimed a gun upward — too slow.
Her hand snapped out, webbing the weapon to the dash.
She dropped through the side window feet first, kicking the passenger clean into the back seats.
Electric energy crackled between her palms.
> "Bio-electric field charged. Discharge ready."
"Perfect."
She jabbed her palm forward — a venom strike flared, knocking the second thug unconscious.
The driver tried to ram her against the dashboard, but she grinned.
"Bad move."
Her eyes glowed faint gold — Assassin-Spider instincts syncing.
She ducked, webbed the steering wheel, and twisted.
The van spun out, slammed sideways into a trash barrier, and skidded to a stop.
---
Smoke hissed.
Gwen landed softly on the wet ground, cloak-like hoodie clinging to her frame.
> "Targets subdued. Civilian heart rate elevated but stable."
She opened the rear door.
A little girl, no older than seven, looked up — crying but alive.
"Hey," Gwen whispered gently. "You're safe now."
"Are you… a hero?"
Gwen paused. "Work in progress."
She cut the ropes, carried the girl to the sidewalk, and set her down just as sirens echoed in the distance.
> "Police ETA: twenty-one seconds."
"Alright, Weaver. Time to ghost."
---
She turned — but froze.
Her spider-sense rippled, not with danger… with presence.
Someone was watching.
From the rooftop across the street, a shadow stirred.
A cape rippled once in the wind.
Then he dropped.
Silent. Heavy. Certain.
The Bat.
"...Batman," Gwen breathed.
He landed without a sound, eyes burning through the lenses of his cowl.
> "High-profile vigilante detected," Weaver murmured. "Recommendation: retreat."
Gwen stayed still. "No. Let's see how this goes."
Batman stepped closer, rain cascading down his armor.
"Step away from the child."
His tone wasn't angry — just absolute.
Gwen raised her hands slowly. "Relax, Bats. I'm one of the good guys."
"I'll decide that."
His scanner lenses flickered faintly — infrared, bio-signature, tech trace.
Nothing.
No thermal trail, no signal, no DNA match.
He frowned.
"You're not from here."
"Wow," Gwen said lightly. "Is it the hoodie?"
Batman didn't answer. He just stared — studying the way her weight shifted, how her breathing matched tactical discipline.
> "He's reading your movement patterns," Weaver whispered.
"Recommendation: exit before profiling completes."
Gwen's smirk faded.
She fired a web line upward. "Sorry, detective. No interviews tonight."
And she was gone.
A flash of white vanished into the rain, her silhouette dissolving midair.
Batman turned his head just slightly —
Cameras offline.
Footprints gone.
Signal interference everywhere.
For a brief moment, he saw only a faint shimmer in the air — then nothing.
He exhaled once, slow.
"...Noted."
---
> "Mission complete," Weaver reported in Gwen's ear as she landed two blocks away.
"Identity risk minimal."
"Yeah," she muttered, leaning against a water tower, watching the storm roll across Gotham.
"But he saw enough."
> "Assessment: Batman will investigate further."
Gwen smiled faintly. "Good. Keeps things interesting."
The AI hummed quietly.
> "You enjoyed that."
"Who wouldn't? First night in Gotham, already caught the Bat's eye."
Lightning flashed in the distance, painting her figure against the skyline.
For a heartbeat, she looked like the ghost of a dozen spiders — twelve destinies converging under the storm.
And Gotham, for the first time in years, whispered a new name.
The White Phantom.