The empty hallways of the Thomas and Martha Wayne hospital took Bruce back to the times when he was a kid, with the rushing doctors and nurses, the pungent scent of medicine and rubber still smelling the same after all these years. A time when he could be proud that this was his legacy.

Now, now he didn’t know how feel. Those doctors and nurses that hurriedly helped the patients had evacuated to one of the public hospitals located all throughout the city, dead bodies transferred to the public morgues. The Master Planner gave those workers ample time to flee, Bruce even found out that there were anonymous donations of state-of-the-art technology to certain public hospitals the staff was going to flee to. That bitter man would do anything to get the public to support his cause. Bruce wondered what he’d do after he had fulfilled his little vendetta.

In the rush of the evacuation, Bruce noticed little trinkets left behind by the throng of doctors desperate to keep their patients alive. Stretchers and masks lying haphazardly around the room like remnants of a ghost town. When he looked down on the pristine floors he saw a droplet of iodine, almost wiped away by the footsteps that trampled over it.

It was an easy job to find the bombs. Some were in the basement but most of them were up in the attic. There was supposed to be a bomb squad but seeing as the GCPD were also partly funded by the Waynes, they probably thought that it would be in bad taste to scour the place for bombs, besides they probably had their hands full with trying to keep the crowd outside under control. The crowd that gleefully awaiting the bombing because why not? Nobody was getting hurt.

The bombs were set for the time the Master Planner stated, of course giving both Bruce and Alfred ample time to sneak to the hospital through the underground parking without being seen.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Alfred asked. “To burn it to the ground. There was a lot of good work…”

“Good work to cover up a drug scheme,” Bruce said. “Good work to cover up the fact that my city was being poisoned.”

Alfred was silent. It surprised him when Master Bruce didn’t leave it at just that.

“I was so… proud of this place Alfred,” Master Bruce said, running his hand over an empty bedframe. “All the people it helped. Rich and poor, criminal or victim, they saved lives Alfred. Everybody was given the best damn healthcare Wayne Inc could afford under the name…”

Master Bruce was silent, but Alfred knew that he wanted to say that it was done under the name of the people he loved the most.

“Everything that the Master Planner said about them is true, Alfred,” Master Bruce sighed, clenching his fist. “I’m the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’, I cross checked, reviewed it a thousand times over and it’s true. All the journalists that reported this, all the journalists my father had…” Master Bruce couldn’t bring himself to say killed, as if it were a slur. He scoffed, letting out a rare self-loathing. “’World’s Greatest Detective’ and I couldn’t see what was happening right under my nose.”

“You were a child,” Alfred said, going closer to place a reassuring hand on his Master’s back. “You can’t blame yourself.”

Master Bruce pushed the hand away. “With how I reacted, the things I’ve done, maybe I still am a child.”

…

Bruce decided to stop the training early due to the bombing that was going to be carried out by Otto today. Earlier this day, Peter got a call from Barbara telling him about their search for Connors. They were supposed to meet in the warehouse and begin the search. By the time Peter got there… well…

“You’re late,” Barbara said. Unlike Bruce, she just said it jokingly. She knew how tough the superhero-life balance was. When Peter descended from the roof of the warehouse, he saw Jason and Batboy playing catch in the corner. “Where were you today, I didn’t see you at school?”

Peter ignored her question and flipped over next to her. The computer screen showed a map of the Gotham sewers.

“So, what did you find out?” Peter asked.

Barbara tapped something on the keyboard and the map of the sewers lit up with red dots.

“What’s all this?” Peter asked, pointing at the dots.

“Earlier today I sent some of my drones into the sewer,” Barbara said. “I programmed them to trace reptilian DNA samples they might find in the sewer and send them back to me.”

Barbara pulled up a screen showing a batch of separate DNA samples. “And let me just say they were plenty. From Killer Croc to snakes to actual alligators…”

“Can we just get to the point?” Peter interrupted.

“Someone’s cranky,” Barbara said. “I further isolated those compounds and I managed to find a lizard DNA tainted with human. I isolated those results and…”

Barbara pressed a key and a swirling but straightforward path through the sewers lit up.

“Voila,” Barbara said. “Pretty neat, right?”

Peter ignored the excitement in her eyes. Like Bruce said, his mind had to be focused. “So, we follow the path. How are we on the cure front?”

As soon as Peter mentioned cure, the playful ruffling of Batboy’s leather wings stopped. It seemed as if James was starting to pay attention to them, but it was hard to get a read on those beady eyes.

“We’re pretty good,” Barbara whispered. “The only person that knows where the cure is, is Jason.”

“Shouldn’t we test it on James?” Peter asked. “See if it… you know, actually works.”

“I designed this cure to generally isolate ‘animal’ elements in the bloodstream, mainly reptilian you know… lizard,” Barbara said. “Not… bat. If we test it on James, we have no idea what the results could be.”

“So, test it on the murderous lizard, gotcha.”

“I know how it sounds,” Barbara said. “But it’s the best shot we have.”

Peter nodded, leaving it at that.

“So, we’re ready for our little expedition,” Peter said, crossing his arms. When Barbara met his eyes, she could see he wasn’t thrilled to be taking her with him but if he had any objections, he didn’t let them be known. Which was… weird to say the least. Something was definitely wrong.

“You guys ready?” Jason said, shifting on his feet, trying his best to hide the fact that he clearly wanted to ask them something.

“No matter what you try and do you still have to take care of Batboy,” Barbara said, rolling away her wheelchair. “No objections.”

Jason was struck. “What? James can take care of himself, besides what if Curt is really there? He’ll need a familiar face to help him come back to his senses, I took care of him and…”

“A familiar face he almost killed.” Barbara turned her wheelchair to face Jason. “Or do you not remember that? We don’t know how he’ll react…”

“But what if you get into a fight?” Jason pleaded. “It’s not like you can do anything.”

Barbara was offended by that. “What the hell did you say?”

“You’re on a wheelchair…”

Peter decided to chime in before things escalated. “Look, Jase.” He knelt down and started to whisper in his ears. “We have the cure to James’s condition right here, but we don’t know what’ll happen if he decides to take it. I’m pretty sure James also knows we have the cure. Barbara told me he’s made a few runs for it when she was working on it so we can’t be sure what’ll happen if we leave it untended. We think we hid it pretty well but…”

Peter scrunched up his face. “We can’t be too sure. We need you to guard the cure…”

“Didn’t Bruce tell you I hate guard jobs?” Jason asked.

“But it’s very important…”

Jason groaned, realising there was no convincing them. “Fine whatever,” he said, kicking the floor. “Go make out in the sewers or something, I don’t care.”

Peter smiled. “Glad you understand.”

Peter turned to Barbara. “You ready?”

Barbara nodded. “Let’s go.”

They both said their goodbyes to James who was hanging upside down on the rooftop, unaware of the fact that he had overheard them talking about the cure.

…

“All this equipment,” Bruce said. “This leg. All of it was from their money.”

Alfred and Bruce stood in front of the massive mural of Thomas and Martha Wayne in the centre of the room. Clouds were cast overhead and the lights in the hospital had long since been switched making the feint shadow the mural cast even larger.

“Money gained from corruption, drugs. Dirty money.” Bruce said the word money with an emphasised disdain.

“One might say you’re using their money for good,” Alfred said. “The good they couldn’t do.”

“I wanted to ask why they couldn’t do good?” Bruce said. “Why they chose to do what they did?”

Bruce looked up at the statue, almost staring at the granite eyes of his father. Bruce crossed his arms behind his back. “I guess that’s what all this boils down to. Why?”

…

As Barbara’s wheels rolled down through the sewers, water dripping from the rooftops of the sewers in an almost hypnotic trance.

“Peter,” Barbara asked. “Are you okay?”

Peter shrugged. “This is the third time I’ve been walking in the sewers, of course I’m not okay.”

“No, I mean in general,” Barbara said. “You seem, you know… uptight. Every time we meet and well, you’re not talking to me.”

Peter chuckled. “Talking to you? Like you ‘talked’ to me about after the accident.”

Barbara screeched to the halt on her wheelchair. “Hey, that’s not fair. It’s different.”

“Calling me things,” Peter said bitterly. “Ungrateful comes to mind.”

“It’s not like you understand what I’m going through,” Barbara said, scoffing.

“Not like you did a good job making me understand,” Peter said.

At that moment the map on the laptop was starting to scramble. “Ugh goddammit,” she said, slapping the laptop. “It’s because it’s pointless. It’s not like you got speared through the gut.”

“There you have it,” Peter said, splaying his hands in the air. “It’s not like you’ll understand what I’m going through.”

“That’s unfair!” Barbara snapped.

“You’re being unfair too!”

“Ugh,” Barbara said, crossing her arms.

Peter just ignored her.

“So, we’re not going to talk about it,” Barbara said. “At all?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, turning to her and smiling sarcastically. “Learned from the best.”

They trudged on in silence, following the maps.

As they followed the DNA trail, the laptop started to scramble. Barbara let out frustrated groans. As they went deeper into the sewers, the laptop going off. Barbara almost tossed it into the sewer water.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked. “We still have a lot of sewer to go through?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just the fucking signal,” Barbara said. “And you not talking to me.”

Peter scoffed. “Let’s just forget about it, focus on the mission.”

“Focus on the mission,” Barbara said mockingly. “You’re sounding a lot like Bruce.”

“Oh, Babs,” Peter said. “You have no idea.”

Peter stepped on something that stuck to his webbed boots. “Oh fuck.”

Peter kneeled and ripped what stuck to his boot. He ripped it from his boot. “What the heck is this?”

Peter turned to Barbara, showing her a piece of what looked like green plastic. Upon closer the inspection, the surface was checkered. It looked like scales.

“Barbara took it from Peter’s hand. She placed in on the scanner of her laptop.

“Lizard DNA,” Barbara said, her voice suddenly still. “We’re getting closer.”

Peter put on his mask. Their bodies tensed up, ready to take on whatever came in next.

“Spider sense?” Barbara asked, their voices all business.

“Not going off yet,” Spider-Man whispered. “Just be careful.”

As they went deeper into the sewer, lizard skin started dotting the walkway like snowflakes.

Barbara knelt over her wheelchair to pick up one of the flakes of skin.

“Looks like he’s shedding.” Barbara flicked the flake away.

“He’s getting bigger?” Peter asked.

“We can’t be too sure until we find him but,” her voice trailed off as she went deeper into the sewer. “The signal’s scrambled but we should be getting closer too…”

Something brushed against Barbara’s face, when she looked up, she let out a scream that pierced the air.

…

He heard everything.

James heard everything. He heard about their little plans, heard the name of the man that turned him into this, heard about his mother. Most importantly, he heard that one little word that would free him from his curse.

Cure.

Cure, cure, cure. He could wait, wanted to wait but the longing. The longing for her. For her patient smile and gentle hands. The longing for him, for his rough hands on his hair and his strong body lifting him up. Even though he couldn’t hear them say it, he knew how their mouths moved when they said I love you. Even though he couldn’t hear them say it, he could always feel it.

Now, now he could hear it. Now he could see them again. See them again. (See who?)

His memories were slowly starting to get hazy. The longer he stayed this way, the more he was starting to lose sense of who he was. His hands became claws, his back became winds and though he could hear everything, his eyesight started to blur, making the world and the faces and the memories like a mirage. Blink and you’ll miss it.

He knew where they put the cures. In a compartment at the back of the room. The only problem was the boy, the boy he played with, the boy he wrestled with. He held back that time but now… to see her…

Mother.

He would not hold back this time.

…

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Barbara!” she heard Peter’s startled yell fizzle out as he saw what was in front of them.

Dangling like a puppet from the tunnelway, withered scales lunged at them, twisting into a brittle facsimile of the monster they were hunting.

“He’s… shedding,” Peter said, tearing the scales off the tunnel. It crumbled in his fingers.

“That’s not the only thing.” Barbara turned the laptop to Peter. “Look.”

Peter ran his finger through the laptop. “We’re under his place? But why?”

Barbara shrugged. “I don’t know. There’re some officers on patrol outside, they have radios I can hack into.”

“Do that and…”

Peter’s phone started to ring.

“What?” Peter took the phone. “It’s Jason.”

Peter picked up the phone. Meanwhile, Barbara started descrambling the police signal.

“Dammit, Conway,” said one of the cops. “We’ve been here for weeks. Bastard still hasn’t returned.”

“Hold on,” Peter said. “Slow down… what’re you saying? The signal’s bad and…”

“Nothing I’d rather do but go home and have a coffee,” Stern said. “But here we are, starving to find a bastard who killed his wife.”

“Batboy…” Peter’s voice trailed off. “What about James?”

“Barbara,” Peter called. Barbara turned to him.

“What?” Barbara asked. “Kinda busy…”

“It’s James,” Peter interrupted. “He ran away.”

“Tell Jason to handle it…”

“Let me finish,” Peter cut in. “He ran away with the cure. All the samples? They’re gone.”

…

As their footsteps echoed across the empty hallways of the hospital, Alfred paused. Master Bruce, sensing Alfred’s sudden halt turned to face him.

“Why did you stop?”

Alfred was looking down at his shoes before he looked up at the master. “Master Bruce, I think you… we already know why? The answer is simple.”

Master Bruce looked at Alfred, the following words straining to come out of his mouth. “To secure my future. To…”

“Perhaps that was a part of it, yes,” Alfred said, letting out a disappointed sigh. “But they were doing this long before you were born.” Right under my nose, he wanted to add. “The ‘why’ is the same why for Falcone as it was for them.”

Master Bruce glanced at his watch. The bomb was to explode in an hour. “We need to clear out, the bomb is about to go off.”

They walked into the garage into the unremarkable car they had bought just for this mission. Before they took a seat, Master Bruce had something left to say. “You’re right. The question isn’t why it’s…” Master Bruce stared at his reflection on the window. “If they had still lived, would I have…” Bruce paused, the pained expression on his face almost too much for Alfred to bear. “Would I have done the same things they did?”

…

Jason was waiting inside the warehouse, stitching up all the scratches on his body when Barbara and Peter stormed in.

Barbara was the first person to role over to him. “Dear god, what did he do to you?” She grabbed him by the chin, moving his face side to side. “Anything lethal?”

“No,” Jason said. “Just a few scratches. He hits like a truck.”

“How did he get the cure?” Peter yelled. “You were supposed to protect the damn thing…”

“Peter, what the hell?” Barbara snapped back at him. “Jason could’ve died, and you’re worried about the cure.”

“Well, it was an easy job,” Peter said. “Maybe Bruce was right about him not being Robin, seeing as he’s incompetent.”

“PETER!” Barbara shouted. “Do you even hear what you’re saying? What the hell is…”

“Well, asshole,” Jason said, pulling his face away from Barbara’s hand. “Maybe if you stopped instead of yelling like a baby, you’d hear that I placed a freaking tracer on him.”

Jason stared at Peter, looking him straight in the eye. Peter didn’t blink. “Give me the damn radar so I can go find him.”

Jason shoved the radar in Peter’s hand, dragging his feet away from Peter and sitting on a chair. Peter put on his mask but before he could leave, Barbara placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You and me,” Barbara said firmly. “We’re going to talk. This isn’t like you.”

“Are we going to talk about your legs?” Peter said, staring down at the wheelchair.

Barbara was taken aback. “That has nothing to do with…” she stammered.

“Then don’t waste my time and do your job,” Peter said cooly. He launched himself out of the warehouse skylight and started swinging through the city.

“Who shat in his cereal?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know,” Barbara said, looking up at the skylight which Peter left through with concern in her eyes. “He isn’t normally like this.”

“Well, if he’s gonna act like a massive asshole, he can kiss my ass goodbye,” Jason said, turning away from Barbara and stitching up his wounds.

…

It burned like fire through his body. It felt like it was hijacking him, hijacking his body. Taking over, making him, making him…

Want mother

Need mother

Kill

No

Mother. Mother. That word fought the burning, kept his mind straight.

From above the streets looked alien. So alien, not like walking. The flaws of the buildings he looked up to were so clear from up here and the streets, the streets he saw through the cars and the trains and walking through were like labyrinths. He was so high, up in the sky. The liquid burning through his body. Through his body. James.

James looked through the labyrinth, his bat wings carrying him low. The screams around him loud. He flew low, swooping up when he heard the sirens. (James), James, James saw the streets, from the bottom he knew where they lead. He finally knew the way home.

Through the businesses, crashing through the glass and the malls and the restaurants he was so familiar with, flying his way back home. Ignoring the screaming, the sirens. To her, to mother. She’d understand, she’d make the burning better. She always made things better. When he was having a tantrum, when he was losing himself.

Finally, it was blurry, but he saw the buildings, the blurred paintings of them. James’s friends’ house, the playgrounds, the smell. The rows of similar houses and finally… Home.

And she was there, carrying groceries. Her face didn’t have the same light on it.

Mum, he screamed. He didn’t like what came out but she’d recognise his voice, she’d recognise who he was. She would. She would. She would. She paused, looking around.

He screamed her name again. Calling after her.

She looked up and he didn’t like the look on her face. He didn’t like it when she screamed and ran away from him like he was a monster.

And hitting him like a cold reminder was Spider-Man, causing him to crash into the garden of his home.

…

Spider-Man landed by the crashed fence, at the massive heap that was James Santini. A heap of fur, his larger claws splayed apart. Batboy slowly stirred, his fur shifting.

It was at that wonderful moment that Mrs. Santini decided to get out of her house.

“Spider-Man,” she said, her voice shaking. “What’s… what’s that?”

“Just get back inside,” Spider-Man hissed. James got up, dazed. What Spider-Man saw wasn’t the Batboy he was used to. He was bigger. Much bigger. Standing tall at about 3 meters was enough of a scare as it was but his muscles also got larger, with that his fur. Amidst the rolls of mottled fur were green scales. The claws on his arms were much bigger and a tail snaked behind.

James lunged, tackling Spider-Man to the ground. Spider-Man managed to toss him off. Mrs. Santini was stood at her doorway in shock, James turned to face her.

It looked like he wanted to say something but only a garbled mess came out.

“Get out of here!” Spider-Man yelled. He leapt onto James’s back, throwing punches on his face that just seemed to do nothing. James stumbled around with Spider-Man on his back, blindly clawing at him from below.

“Can’t see huh,” Spider-Man said as they crashed into a fence. “Guess you’re as blind as a…”

James shifted his weight throwing Spider-Man to the ground. James swiped at him with his claws, but Spider-Man launched a web in his face. Unable to see where he was going, he lost his balance and fell on the lawn. Bruce lesson number one: Always use an unskilled enemies weight against them.

“Man, we are really messing up this woman’s lawn, huh?” Spider-Man said. Mrs. Santini was still standing by the doorway.

“Did you not get the message?” Spider-Man groaned.

“It’s just, I don’t know call it instinct,” Mrs. Santini said, taking a nervous step forward. “There’s something familiar about…”

“Well, that’s because he’s your…”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as James lunged at him again. He was too slow to react and using his wings James launched him into the air. Spider-Man forgot Bruce lesson number 2: never lose focus on your target.

“Those wings…” Spider-Man said, his lenses widening. One was leathery, large like a pterodactyl, the other was massive and batlike. And his eyes, one was a bead, the other like a snake. It was as if Spider-Man were face to face with a chimera. Spider-Man elbowed him, knocking against his head. James groaned in pain, tightening his grip despite Spider-Man’s desperate attempt to squirm out of it.

James roared, revealing a snake like tongue. Bits of saliva stuck on Spider-Man’s face.

“Eww, man,” Spider-Man said. “Do you even…”

James tightened his grip. “Brush…” Spider-Man grunted. “Your teeth.”

Lesson number 3 from Bruce: make sure your body is always loose. Spider-Man loosened up his muscles and soon enough he slid away from James’s grip.

“I’ll get you some breath mints later.”

Spider-Man took a dive to the bottom, James made a clumsy turn and followed him. If Spider-Man just fell to the ground, the best possible end to it would be breaking his bones.

“Web fluid don’t fail me now,” Spider-Man said, diving. Two things had to go right for him. One, there was a two-storey building and two, when he attached the web his arm wouldn’t pop out of his socket. James, used to the flying was gaining on him way too quickly for comfort. Soon, a house was in range, what Peter assumed was the Santini’s house.

“Leap of faith, Peter,” he mumbled. He spun in the air, launching an impact web from his left hand at James to slow his descent. James got hit, the mixture of the web and the current causing him to gain some air. Using his right launched a web at James’s house. The web hit and…

Spider-Man ripped the wood out of the house, plummeting down to an alleyway. Spider-Man landed with a thud that would break any normal human’s spine.

Spider-Man groaned, struggling to get up. His webs hung fell pathetically on his body. Spider-Man tired getting up but the piece of wood he ripped from the mansion hit his head.

“I really need to learn how to glide from Bruce,” Spider-Man groaned. He didn’t have time to relax, however as a massive bat shaped shadow descended from the sky. Spider-Man rolled out of the way as James landed in front of him with a heavier thud.

Spider-Man sighed. “Just my luck.” He raised his fists. “Ready for round two?”

…

His body was heavy. He wasn’t used to it, used to the strength, the weight. But as he battled with his enemy, as he battled with… with…

(Spider-Man)

He was slowly getting used to this. Getting used to this body. Soon, he’d get used to the burning in his belly. He’d get used to this body. He would be… (a monster). The words were slowly evaporating from his mind. The words and the feelings and the…

He felt a punch to the face. He was losing his focus. Spider-Man said those words he didn’t know. Those words that were meaningless, but his body. He was starting to know his body.

Spider-Man started to launch webs he was quicker. He slapped him with his new tail.

Spider-Man hit the wall, underneath a window. (this alleyway was familiar) but those memories were replaced by a burning red. A red that promised a simpler world. A world of smells and sights (James) he couldn’t access anymore. The little Spider tried to run but he was faster, grabbing him with his claws.

…

Don’t let it guide you.

He wasn’t in control, the sense guided him again. Spider-Man webbed his face.

“I hate how you make it feel like homework, Batman,” Spider-Man groaned. James tightened his grip but luckily, he squirmed out of the grip, backflipping up onto the walls. James looked up at him and Spider-Man felt a chill run up his spine. The eyes that stared back at him were intense, soulless, like those of a predator. Whatever the cure was doing to him, it wasn’t good.

James swiped at him with his claws, but he couldn’t get enough momentum thanks to the arrow alleyway. That’s when Spider-Man got an idea.

“Ready for a game of twister, James?” Spider-Man asked. James screeched. Spider-Man took that as yes. As James swiped at Spider-Man, he leapt from wall to wall, launching a web. He layered those webs one by one, making sure it was tough enough to keep him distracted for a while.

“Let’s hope those sewing lessons paid off,” Spider-Man said. He moved his limbs, jumping from wall to wall as James leapt at him only to be met by a layer of webs. James whipped at him with his tail again, hitting him against the house again but Spider-Man recovered quickly enough. Soon, there was a curtain of webs and James’s muffled screech came from below.

Spider-Man knew it would only be a matter of moments before James broke through. Flicking his wrists, out came the web mines. As James’s claws broke through the curtain, Spider-Man launched two web mines in the air, hoping the spur of the moment measurements he was doing were accurate. James’s nozzle broke through the curtain.

“Aww,” Spider-Man said. “Look at that little snout.” James growled. “And those big teeth.” Spider-Man launched two webs at the side of the two alleyways. “Let’s hope this slingshot works.” He pulled and launched himself upwards just as James broke through the curtain.

“Alright, James,” Spider-Man said. “Let’s hope Mr. Garfield was right when he taught me about momentum.”

The first web mine caught James, just as the tip of his claw touched Spider-Man’s boot and the second one caught hold of him before he could even break out of the first.

“Yes!” Spider-Man grinned. He turned around in mid-air, diving while weaving webs in and out to make sure that James stood in place. When he was sure, James could barely move, he landed at the end of the alleyway.

Spider-Man dialled up Barbara. “Yeah, I captured him.”

“What about the cure?” Barbara asked. “Did it work?”

“Nope,” Spider-Man said. “Instead, it made him worse. They’re signs of reptilian DNA strains in his body. You better get here fast. I’m not sure how long the webs going to hold.”

“Okay, get a DNA sample,” Barbara said. “I’ll research how the cure effected his DNA and Peter you better apologise to Jason when you get back…”

“Sorry,” Spider-Man said. “Someone’s behind me.”

Spider-Man hung up. James’s mum was carrying a shovel. “I uh… I heard you mention James.”

Spider-Man’s spider senses started to buzz. It was at that moment that James started to stir.

…

There she was. Mother. If he could only tell her, if he could only…

But all he was greeted by was webs and he was silenced yet again.

They talked, in a language he couldn’t understand and soon a fight broke out. Their bodies were getting tense, their voices louder until…

She ran past Spider-Man despite his objections.

And James did the same, he broke free. He broke free. He mustered all the strength his body could break out. He rushed at Spider-Man, ready to let his rage and anger burst out at him, ready to tear him into pieces but his mother stood in front of him.

She was saying something. Something he couldn’t understand. Something he could understand. Something he knew he could. Spider-Man stood, ready to pounce. Ready to escalate the conflict if he did but he stood still, looking at his mother.

Her mouth, she was saying something. Her mouth was moving, moving in the way he remembered it moving when she… when she… when his hearing was deteriorating. Now he could hear everything in the world, but he didn’t understand. He couldn’t but…

What was it? He remembered the way her mouth moved when she was calling him. When his ears started getting bad. His father did it to, to get him used to being called that way.

It started with… J…

Tears started falling down her eyes. She desperately mouthed those words, over and over again, over and over again.

Juh… Juh…

Jame…

James…

James

He cried it out. James. His name was James.

And it started again. The burning. He was starting to see red. He lunged wildly, Spider-Man leapt out of the way, taking his mum to safety.

“You asked for it!” Spider-Man said.

He could understand them now. His mother, Spider-Man. The kind boy and girl who took care of him when he was a

Monster. Fire in his gut. Scent and smell. Claws… the gnashing of teeth, the feel of wind in the air and the sound…

The world was starting to muffle. He wasn’t that. He didn’t belong to a world of red and instincts. He was a human. He was a human who

Couldn’t hear. A weak human.

A loved human.

“He’s getting smaller,” Spider-Man said from above the rooftop.

“Oh James,” he heard his mum sob.

But you won’t hear. You won’t be loved. That was what the red told him, that was what the monster told him

At least I’ll still be human.

With one final ear-splitting scream, James broke free from his old body, back to a world of silence… back to a world…

Of relieved tears. Of unheard sobs. Of hands grabbing hold of him tightly. Of warmth and love.

…

They’d found themselves atop one of the various buildings overlooking the hospital. Master Bruce stood in front of Alfred, his body still, his eyes laser focused on the hospital below.

“In the car I asked…” Master Bruce began.

“Yes,” Alfred said. “I know.”

“Do you think I would’ve ended up like them?” Master Bruce asked. “Taking over the ‘family business.’” He scoffed.

“If they hadn’t died…” he looked at his palms. “Would I have…”

“I don’t know,” Alfred interrupted. “I… don’t know.”

“I did this for them,” Master Bruce mumbled, his voice starting to lose the fortitude he usually embellished it with. “Who am I without them? What am I doing this for?”

They stood there, in a silence Alfred thought impenetrable until…

“Wayne Inc,” Alfred said. “Most of the money. You’ve funnelled it into different aid programmes. You’ve helped this city out more than your parents ever did and as Batman, you’ve cleared those… undesirable elements that diverted the aid to the wrong hands.”

“What are you getting at?” Bruce asked.

“You love this city, Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “You’ve loved it ever since you were a boy and you’ve put your heart, soul and physical well being into protecting it. Into keeping it safe, into making the city live up to its full potential.”

“You don’t understand Alfred,” Master Bruce said. “I did it for…”

“Them,” Alfred said. “But they were not what you expected, not what we expected. They tore this city apart. They’re the reason the city is the way it is now. You’re the reason it’s better.”

“But it wouldn’t have been this way if they were alive,” Master Bruce said.

Alfred interrupted him. “The past doesn’t matter. What matters is now. This is the legacy your parents went to bed with…”

The Thomas and Martha Wayne hospital erupted in a burst of flames. The Gotham protestors let out a loud cheer.

“It doesn’t have to be yours.”

…

Peter swung down from the skylights. “So, the cure worked,” Peter said, attempting to hug Barbara who swung away from him. “I managed to get a blood sample.” Barbara plucked it from his hands and got to work. Jason just stared at him; arms crossed. “Why the cold shoulder?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s on account of you being a massive asshole.”

“Not my fault you failed to do your job.”

“Boys, please,” Barbara said. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

Barbara went back to analysing the blood samples. After a while, Barbara turned around to face them.

“I’ll need some time to run tests with the original sample of the cure to find out why James turned into that monster thing you described but…” Barbara smiled at the both of them. “It works. The cure works, barring a small amount of trace bat DNA remnants but it works.”

Peter and Jason both grinned.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t find Curt,” Peter said.

“Yeah,” Barbara said, her voice trailing off in thought. “The place where the trail stops was at his place. I wonder what he wanted over there. The cops have it protected.”

“Why don’t we tune into the radios over there?” Jason asked.

Barbara shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to try.”

.

.

.

Conway was not having a good time. Unfortunately for him, dispatch assigned him and his partner Gates patrol duty in the Connor’s neighbourhood. Time he’d have much rather spent hitting the drinks or the strip club. Didn’t help that during the whole jig, Gates and Conway were living off a diet of junk food and sugar so his gut was starting to ache like a motherfucker.

Gates had gone out to piss, leaving him alone in the car, giving him enough time to ponder about the suspect. According to reports, the guy murdered his wife and her girlfriend, leaving behind a kid. The kid was in police custody, assigned to Gordon’s squad. Conway wondered how he must have felt. Dad turning out to be a mass murderer and all. Probably didn’t feel good.

Conway felt a chill. The ground was starting to fog up and he knew enough about human biology to know that it did not take this long for a man to piss. He was about to leave his car when he heard a loud thud on the roof.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” the noise had given him a shock. The thing that landed on his roof sounded heavy. “Gates is that you, you bastard. I’m not in the mood for one of your pranks.”

“Gates!” he yelled. No response. That was when he saw something run down his windscreen. At first he though some sauce from the mess of crumpled up plastic and paper bags on the dashboard had splashed against it but the thing was coming from outside. It was coming from the roof.

“Gates you asshole!” Conway tried to yell, but his voice came out in a cowardly yelp. “I’m coming out there!”

He grabbed his gun and rushed out of the car, pointing his gun at the roof. When he saw what was on it he let out a scream.

It was Gates or what was left of him. His intestines spilling out from where his legs should’ve been. Blood poured down the hole like a waterfall, painting the rear windshield red.

Conway heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps.

“Come out, you hear me!” Conway screamed. “I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Conway couldn’t focus on anything. His vision was blurry, his legs felt like jelly and he was trying his best not to puke his guts out.

“YOU HEAR ME!” Conway growled, trying to sound intimidating but only sounding like a scared child. “I’M WARNING YOU!” He saw something shift to his left. “GET OUT OR…”

He couldn’t feel the ground anymore. Something grabbed him and lifted him up in the air like he was nothing. He kicked and squirmed against the grip but it was in vain. His face turned pale as he saw the cold, red eyes staring at him and a jagged road of greens scales.

“P…please,” he pleaded. The words barely came out, the clawed grip around his throat tightened.

“Where…” the voice started. It sounded like a hiss. “Where is my ssson?”

“Son?” Conway sputtered. “I don’t know your son.”

Where issss Billy?”

“Billy,” Conway looked confused. “Billy Connors.”

“Yesss.”

“Are you Curt Connors?” Conway cried.

“Sstop wasting my time.”

“He’s under police protection,” Conway said. “Gordon’s unit.”

The monster grinned. Those teeth were sharp like daggers. It made Conway’s stomach churn. “Thank you.”

“Can I go now?” Conway squeaked.

“No.” The Monster grinned. “I’ll need a meal to replenish my energy.”

Conway’s screams were cut short by a quick snap, his body falling limply on the ground.

He wouldn’t bear witness to no horrors anymore.

To be continued…