The Spider With Prep-Time

Chapter 5

The sun had set hours ago, casting the city in a dark, oppressive haze. The kind of darkness that invited crime, where scum crawled out from the shadows thinking the world wouldn't see. But tonight? Tonight, I was watching.

It had been a month since I'd started laying the foundation for Parker Enterprises. A month since I'd reunited with Alfred and set my financial empire in motion. But that part of my life—the public face—was just a mask. The truth was that the nights belonged to me.

I had been testing the limits of my new body, pushing myself harder and further with every passing day. The strength, the agility, the reflexes—it was all coming back to me. But this body? It was something more. Enhanced by the spider's bite, it gave me abilities I never had before. Now, with my past life's experience as Bruce Wayne and my newfound powers, I was becoming something new.

Tonight was the beginning.

The First Hunt

I stood on the edge of a rooftop, the cool night air biting at my face. The black suit I had designed clung to my body, blending seamlessly with the shadows. I didn't take on a symbol, not yet. I wasn't ready to wear the mantle of anything larger than myself. Tonight, I was just a man in the dark, doing what needed to be done.

The criminals below had no idea I was watching. A group of thugs, dragging some poor kid into an alleyway, about to teach him a lesson he wouldn't forget. They thought they could get away with it. They were wrong.

I crouched low, my eyes locked on the scene below. Every muscle in my body coiled like a spring, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Years of training, honed in Gotham's streets, kicked in as I mapped out the scenario in my head. Three thugs. One armed with a knife. The other two? Bare fists. Amateurs.

I dropped from the rooftop, landing silently behind them. The sound of their own laughter drowned out the subtle thud of my boots hitting the pavement.

I stepped forward, my voice low and dangerous. "You picked the wrong night."

The leader whipped around, his knife glinting in the dim streetlight. "Who the hell—?"

He didn't finish the sentence. I moved faster than any of them could react, disarming the knife-wielder with a precise twist of his wrist, the blade clattering to the ground before he could blink. I followed up with a solid elbow to his gut, knocking the air from his lungs. One down.

The other two lunged at me, but they were sloppy, untrained. I sidestepped the first one's punch, grabbing his arm and using his own momentum to slam him into the alley wall. The crack of bone echoed in the alley, followed by his pained scream as he crumpled to the ground.

The last thug stood frozen, his eyes wide with fear. He had seen what I'd done, and now the terror was creeping in. Good. Fear was a weapon, and I knew how to use it.

"You're gonna regret this," he stammered, but his voice was weak, trembling.

I stared at him, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him squirm. "You should've prayed before tonight. Now, you'll be lucky if you walk out of here."

With a single, swift movement, I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the ground. His head hit the pavement with a dull thud, and he lay still, groaning in pain.

The Legend of "Dusk" Begins

As I stood over them, I could feel the weight of what I'd done settling in. This was the beginning. The night belonged to me now. The city was already whispering about a new vigilante—a shadow that appeared without warning, dealt swift justice, and disappeared into the night.