Chapter 7 — Echoes and Shadows
The air outside Gotham Academy was cold enough to bite. Gwen tugged her jacket tighter, pretending not to notice the faint shimmer of static crawling along her fingertips. Still glitching, she thought. Weaver-12 had been "updating" again, adapting its interface, rewriting itself. Every time she blinked, the AI felt sharper—more alive.
> [Weaver-12: Neural sync at 93%. Latent power integration improving.]
Gwen sighed under her breath. "Yeah, but my social life's at 0%."
The night pressed in thick as she crossed the empty street. She'd barely made it halfway home when a shadow detached itself from the alley ahead. Gwen froze, reflexively phasing invisible—her breath hitching as her body melted into the air like heat haze.
> "Relax," a calm voice said.
"We're not here to fight."
Three figures emerged under the streetlight: Robin, arms crossed; Kid Flash, tapping his foot impatiently; and Aqualad, who carried himself with quiet command, eyes glowing faintly from the Atlantean tattoos running down his arms. Behind them, Artemis, Miss Martian, and Superboy fanned out cautiously.
Gwen's pulse quickened. Young Justice. The rumor that whispered through Gotham rooftops—Batman's covert team of teenage heroes.
Still invisible, she hissed, "How did you even find me?"
Robin smirked faintly. "You left quite the data trail after last night's warehouse incident. And Bats… he's curious."
Aqualad stepped forward, his voice deep and steady. "We are not here under suspicion. Batman believes you could be an ally. But before we discuss that, we would like to understand who—or what—you are."
Gwen hesitated, then shimmered back into visibility. Her hood was up, mask covering her lower face. "You'll get neither answer," she said softly. "Not yet."
Kid Flash grinned. "She's got mystery points, I'll give her that."
Miss Martian's voice brushed their minds gently. She's scared… but curious too.
Weaver-12 flickered across Gwen's HUD, scanning the group with almost mechanical precision.
> [Identities confirmed. Tactical data synced. Potential allies: 78%. Threat probability: 21%.]
"Batman really sent kids to recruit me?" she muttered.
Superboy bristled. "Watch it."
Aqualad raised a hand, diffusing the tension. "We are not recruiters. We are offering you a choice—to use your gifts for more than rooftop chases and half-finished rescues."
Something in his tone made Gwen pause. He wasn't forcing her. He meant it.
After a long moment, she whispered, "Where?"
Aqualad nodded once. "Follow."
---
The Bioship descended like a ghost over the industrial docks. M'gann piloted it smoothly, cloaking active. Gwen sat near the rear, still hooded, still unsure. Her fingers tapped against her leg, subconsciously sending tiny sparks through the air. Robin, seated across from her, kept stealing glances—not hostile, just studying her movements, like a detective cataloguing clues.
"So," Kid Flash broke the silence, "what's your deal? Spider theme? Lightning? Cloak of invisibility?"
"Just… complicated," Gwen said.
> [Weaver-12: Recommend limited disclosure. Tactical secrecy preserves advantage.]
She smirked faintly beneath her mask. "My AI agrees."
"AI?" Robin's eyebrow rose. "Now that's interesting."
Before she could answer, M'gann's voice came through the comms:
"Team, visual contact with target confirmed. Unknown tech signature—possibly LexCorp modified."
Aqualad stood. "Mission parameters: secure the device and minimize exposure. Ghost, you will observe only."
"Ghost?" she echoed.
Robin shrugged. "Until you tell us your name, that one fits."
The ship's ramp opened into chaos. A convoy of armored drones was tearing through the docks, spraying plasma fire. At their center—an angular black crate glowing with unstable blue light. Superboy leapt first, slamming into a drone. Artemis's arrows split midair, taking out two more. Kid Flash blurred past, redirecting their fire.
Gwen hesitated at the ramp's edge, heart hammering. Weaver-12 hummed in her skull.
> [Combat data from prior Spider entities available. Suggest defensive field activation.]
"Fine," she muttered—and dove.
She hit the ground running, web-lines flaring from her wrists, electric pulses snapping through the strands. One drone aimed—she vanished. Invisible, she slid under its frame, drove a kick upward, and unleashed a surge of energy that short-circuited it instantly.
"Whoa!" Wally shouted as sparks rained down. "Okay, mystery girl can fight!"
Aqualad gave a brief nod, directing her toward the crate. "Ghost—assist Robin. That container is unstable."
"On it!"
They reached the device together, Robin hacking its security field while Gwen's Weaver-12 scanned the molecular pattern.
> [Radiation signature: dimensional energy—similar to Oscorp experiments.]
Her eyes widened beneath the mask. "That's not LexCorp. That's—"
The crate exploded open. A shockwave knocked them both back. From the smoke rose a mechanical arachnid hybrid, a grotesque fusion of steel and organic limbs—Scorpion reengineered with alien tech.
Robin groaned. "Why is it always the bug guys?"
The creature hissed and lunged. Gwen's instincts took over—she vaulted high, flipped, fired a webline, and slammed a charged kick into its head. The electric surge made it screech, stumbling. Robin followed up with a smoke bomb and grapple.
"Go for the joints!" Gwen called, switching to impact webbing.
Aqualad's water constructs crashed in from the side, freezing its limbs long enough for Superboy to smash it down.
As the dust settled, Gwen's mask cracked slightly at the edge. The team stared—she looked almost their age, her blue eyes steady but tired.
Aqualad approached slowly. "You disobeyed orders," he said. "But your help saved lives."
Gwen's lips curved beneath her mask. "You're welcome."
Robin gave her a rare smile. "Guess we're keeping the ghost."
---
Later, back in Gotham, Gwen sat on her bedroom windowsill, staring at the skyline. Her father's voice from earlier still echoed in her mind: Be careful out there, Gwen. The world's darker than you think.
She whispered to the empty air, "You have no idea."
Weaver-12 pulsed gently.
> [Adaptation complete. New combat data integrated. Emotional pattern detected: belonging.]
"Belonging," she repeated softly. "That's new."
She didn't know what came next—whether she could ever truly fit among heroes or if she'd always be the ghost between worlds—but for the first time since Gotham changed her life, she didn't feel completely alone.
Outside, the Bat-Signal flared faintly against the clouds.
And somewhere in the Watchtower, Batman watched the footage—silent, analytical—but his eyes lingered a second longer on the white-hooded figure who moved like shadow and lightning.