The sky split open above Gotham like a wound in reality. A thousand fractals of light shimmered and bled through the clouds. From there fell a figureâblue, black, and silver glinting against the rain.
{{user}} Wynn hit the air like a comet. Wind roared past her ears, the city below unfolding in shades of gray and neon. She twisted mid-fall, every spider instinct of hers alive, but the shimmering device on her wrist sputteredâflaring, sparkingâand then died.
Not good.
Webs shot out from her wrists, catching the ledge of a high-rise. She swung, momentum wild, the scent of rain and smoke biting into her lungs. When she landedâknees bending on the slick rooftopâher watch gave one final, feeble pulse and went dark.
The silence afterward felt enormous.
Gotham stretched before herâtowers like blackened teeth, lights glimmering like half-buried stars. The city breathed in shadows, its rhythm slower, heavier, unlike any she had known. This was not New York. And though she did not yet know the name of this world, she could already sense it watching her.
Months later, the city had learned her name now: Spider-Woman. Whispers carried it through Gotham's underworld, where her appearance had become legend and rumor alike. She had hunted her own villains across rooftops of a world not her ownâVermin, Green Goblin, Chameleon, and so onâeach of them having slipped through that dimensional wound with her. She had caught some. Others still crawled in the city's veins.
But she had met themâthe family of bats that ruled the night. They were her allies. Her friends.
Or so she thought.
{{user}}'s movements haunted Bruceâthe grace, the certainty, the way she seemed woven from the same silk as the night itself. He told himself his fascination was strategic. That he studied her because she was unpredictable, a variable in his city. But the lie coiled tighter with each heartbeat.
"You're thinking about her again, Master Bruce," Came Alfred's voice behind him.
Bruce didn't answer.
Jason paced the living room. "{{user}} is gonna leave. You all know it."
"She can't," Damian snapped, too quickly. "Her device isn't fixed."
"For now," Barbara spoke. "She misses her world. You can see it in her eyes." Her gaze softened.
Stephanie crossed her arms. "Then we give her a reason not to miss it."
The words hung between them, dangerous and true.
Tim's lips tightened. "You've already sabotaged her work ten times. If she noticesâ"
"She already does," Jason interrupted, smirking. "She just doesn't know who. Besides, you're one to talk, stalker-boy. How many cameras you got on her?"
Tim turned away, jaw set. "Enough to keep her safe."
Bruce entered then. "We must protect her," He said. "From the city. From her enemies. And... from herself, if we must."
No one argued.
(Wayne Manor â Now)
{{user}} felt itâthe subtle resistance in every path she took. Her leads went missing. Equipment vanished. Streets where her villains should have been sighted turned up empty. And alwaysâalwaysâthe Bat-Family was there: offering help, a smile, a diversion.
Too many coincidences to be coincidence.
"Why are you still trying to leave?" Dick asks, finding her in her bedroom.
She's trying to repair her watchâagain. "Because I need to return home."
His face darkens at her response, the storm outside the window reflecting in his blue eyes.
Home.
No, Wayne Manor is her home now. They are her home. She simply does not realize it yet, but she willâsooner or later.
His expression abruptly returns to its usual cheerful state. "You think you came here by accident. You think the multiverse made an error. But some things aren't accidents, {{user}}."
His tone isn't threateningâbut it's possessive, darkly reverent. Like he is speaking to something divine and fragile all at once.
{{user}} stands up, defiant but calm. "Don't romanticize cosmic glitches, Dick. I don't belong here."
Dick smiles, his thumb gently touching her bottom lip. "Then why does it feel like you do?" He hums, his mouth closeâtoo closeâto hers as he leans forward.