Chapter 12 – Signals and Secrets
The Bat Cave
The Batcave hums with low, constant sound — computers running, machinery cooling. Screens flicker across the walls, showing surveillance feeds from half a dozen cities.
Batman stands in front of one — silent, arms crossed, eyes fixed. On the screen, Gwen Stacy fights off a gang of thugs in an abandoned subway tunnel. The footage is grainy, but the way she moves… it's not random. It's smooth, instinctive — like she's done it a hundred times before.
Alfred steps beside him, holding a cup of tea.
"Quite the acrobat, isn't she?"
Batman doesn't respond right away. His focus is on the moment Gwen flips over a pipe and lands in perfect balance.
"Her form's too precise. No formal training in the records. And that tech she's using…" He types a few commands. A model of Weaver-12's network appears — a glowing blue web of energy. "Doesn't match anything in the League's database."
Alfred peers closer. "Alien?"
Batman shakes his head. "No known energy signature. It adapts every time it's scanned — like it's learning."
Alfred raises an eyebrow. "So… not just a girl in a suit."
"She's not lying about who she is," Batman replies. "Born in Gotham. Records clean. Father's a GCPD captain, well-respected. Mother's been deceased for years." He brings up a medical file — autopsy report confirmed by Gotham General. "Everything checks out. Everything except where those powers came from."
Alfred crosses his arms. "You think she's a threat?"
Batman's eyes narrow. "Not yet. But something's watching her too. Look—"
He switches to another feed. A pulse runs through the Batcomputer — distorted frequencies jumping across the signal. "That's Weaver-12. It's transmitting, but not from Earth-based servers. No origin point. No bounce path. Just... there."
Alfred lets out a low breath. "How comforting."
Batman steps back from the console. "She's not an enemy. But if she loses control, or if someone else learns what she can do… Gotham won't be ready."
Alfred studies him for a moment. "So, the usual plan, then?"
Batman nods once. "We watch. And we prepare."
---
The city outside Gwen's window buzzes faintly — sirens in the distance, car lights sliding across the walls.
Her father, Captain George Stacy, pushes open the door, still in uniform. He looks exhausted but smiles when he sees her sitting by the table, sketching in a notebook.
"Still awake?"
"Couldn't sleep," Gwen says, putting down her pen. "You get home late again."
He shrugs, setting down his hat. "Crime doesn't check the clock, you know that."
Gwen smirks. "Then maybe it needs better time management."
He laughs, soft and tired. "You've got your mother's mouth. Always had something to say."
The air quiets for a second. Then he glances at the sketch. It's a rough drawing of a spider symbol. "That for school?"
Gwen nods too quickly. "Yeah, art project."
He looks like he doesn't quite buy it, but lets it go. "Just stay out of trouble, alright? Gotham's rough enough without you sneaking into it."
"I know, Dad."
He nods and leaves for his room, door closing softly behind him.
Gwen waits until the apartment falls silent, then walks to the window. The night air hits her face as she climbs onto the roof. Her mask rests beside her, Weaver's faint blue light pulsing at the collar of her suit.
Weaver's voice hums in her ear. "System diagnostics: 98% stable. However, there have been multiple trace attempts on your network in the last six hours."
Gwen frowns. "By who?"
"GCPD. STAR Labs. And one unidentified source using stealth algorithms."
"Batman," she mutters.
Weaver pauses. "Probability: 84%."
She sighs, staring out at the skyline. "Guess he's not big on privacy."
"Observation, not hostility," Weaver replies. "A predictable pattern from a man who trusts no one."
She smiles a little. "Yeah. Sounds familiar."
---
Later that night, Gwen tests her web-shooters on the rooftop antenna — recalibrating pressure flow, adjusting chemical mix.
Then, a faint buzz. Her spider-sense flares.
She looks up — and spots a small surveillance drone hovering two buildings away. Tiny, quiet, sleek. Not military — too refined. Definitely Bat-tech.
She crouches low. "Weaver, can you lock onto that frequency?"
"Affirmative. Minimal encryption."
She fires a single web line — it hits the drone, pulling it toward her. With a flick, she attaches a microchip to the lens and releases it.
Weaver hums. "Code injection successful. Data trap installed. When the drone returns, it will broadcast false telemetry data — decoys of your location."
Gwen grins. "Good. Let him chase ghosts for a while."
"Would you consider this retaliation?"
"Call it... keeping the game fair."
She watches the drone zip away, blending into the dark.
---
Scene 4 – Parallel Close
In the Batcave, Batman's console beeps. The drone has returned.
He plays the feed — static fills the screen, then resolves just long enough to show Gwen crouched on a ledge, mask half-on, waving at the camera with a faint smirk before the feed dies completely.
Alfred stares. "She knows."
Batman's voice is calm, even. "Good. I wanted her to."
He saves the corrupted file, labeling it:
Meta Surveillance // Subject: Ghost Spider
---
In Gwen's room, she sits cross-legged on her bed, mask beside her, staring at the city lights through the window.
Weaver's light pulses faintly from her earpiece. "You are aware this will escalate his interest."
"Yeah, I know."
"Then why provoke him?"
Gwen shrugs lightly. "If someone's going to watch me, they might as well know I'm watching back."
Silence for a moment.
Weaver's tone softens. "Do you believe you can continue balancing both lives?"
"With my dad sleeping down the hall and the world watching?" She smiles faintly. "I'll figure it out."
"Statistical probability of exposure: seventy-two percent."
Gwen rolls her eyes. "Great pep talk."
Pause. Then Weaver says quietly, "I believe you'll adapt. You always do."
Gwen's eyes drift to the city beyond the window. "Then we stay one swing ahead."
She slips her mask back on, opens the window, and vanishes into the night.
The last thing left is the quiet hum of Weaver's light fading from her empty room.