4. The First Encounter of Little Pi

Jason finally managed to dispel Peter’s worries about whether he was unwelcome. Watching Peter return to his bedroom and close the door, Jason immediately headed down to the basement. He rushed to the Batcave and, shielded by the cover of night, piloted a silent Bat-vehicle, heading toward Arkham without a sound.

Once back in his room, Peter hacked into the Gotham police frequency, intending to find something to occupy his night so he wouldn't let his mind wander.

The Gotham police frequency was harder to breach than New York’s; its security protocols had been upgraded. Yet, this didn't stump the young Spider-Man, though it did prompt an internal sigh, wondering why New York’s security protocols were as flimsy as paper.

The moment he connected to the channel, Peter’s expression shifted.

Deafening gunfire poured through the communicator, accompanied by the panicked shouts and commands of officers. He listened intently, quickly capturing a name: Arkham.

Peter swiftly pulled out his black suit. He decided to keep Spider-Man out of Gotham for the time being to avoid raising suspicion. He pressed his ear against the wall for a moment, confirming that music was playing in the next room and someone seemed to be humming along.

Peter opened the window and looked out at the flat, open plain ahead, which offered no points for a web-line to attach to. He sighed and nimbly climbed down the wall, intending to walk to a spot where he could swing, or perhaps catch a ride on a responding police car.

The black spider blended into the walls, and his movement across the plain was as difficult to detect as a deer hidden by tall grass.

When he first gained his powers, his senses were so acute that Peter was often overwhelmed by irrelevant information. To cope, he had designed his suit to block his vision, reducing sensory interference and relying solely on his spider-sense to interact with the world. After years of practice, Peter had mastered his hyper-developed senses, learning to turn them off when not needed, allowing him a moment of respite from the chaotic stream of data.

With his senses fully open now, Peter felt the flow of the wind; every step he took harmonized with the rustling of the plants. His spider-sense was even evolving toward something prophetic. Now, Peter could not only sense incoming punches, kicks, or bullets, but he also had a vague perception of how events would unfold. This was one of the reasons he had firmly chosen to come to Gotham; Peter could feel that being in Gotham was better than staying in New York.

Once he crossed the plain and reached the more built-up areas, Peter moved through the buildings at high speed. Along the way, he hitched a ride on a police car, quietly sticking to the roof to catch the breeze, before deciding it was too slow and continuing on his webs.

When he arrived at the location frequently mentioned on the police channel—Arkham—Peter discovered it was situated on an isolated island. The bridge leading to the island was heavily guarded, clearly to prevent fugitives from escaping. This didn't stop the young spider; he swung under the bridge a few times and landed on the island in silence.

Aside from the police guarding the bridge, Peter noticed a girl in a tight-fitting uniform nearby. Half of her face was covered by a mask, and her short, sharp hair cut a clean arc at her chin, giving her a very capable appearance. A vigilante? Peter guessed. Not wanting to cause trouble, he quietly climbed over the wall. The towering fence was sharp and topped with high-voltage wire, but Peter’s suit was insulated, so it couldn't stop him.

He heard the increasingly chaotic sounds of intense combat and gunfire inside, so he cautiously chose to climb to a high vantage point to survey the scene.

There were five buildings in total. The one in the center had the most chaotic noise and the fiercest conflict; Peter saw the words "Central Treatment Wing" written above its main entrance. Aside from human voices, he heard a faint, high-pitched "squeaking" sound, like some kind of rodent, though Peter couldn't be sure. If there were really that many rats, then the conditions in this asylum-prison were truly abysmal.

A group of people dressed as doctors and orderlies rushed into the back door of the Central Treatment Wing, carrying a stretcher. Given the scale of the shootout Peter heard and the smell of blood, the presence of this medical team seemed logical. However, Peter glanced at them, and a warning from his spider-sense made him frown.

Peter changed his mind. He had intended to infiltrate the Central Treatment Wing, but he wasn't familiar with the layout and would find it hard to keep track of that team of doctors once inside. Instead, he relocated to the eaves of the West Tower, keeping a close watch on the back door of the Central Treatment Wing.

Along the way, he spotted a familiar motorcycle—it had given him a ride once; it was undoubtedly the Red Hood’s bike. It seemed the rumors about the feud between Red Hood and Arkham were true; whenever trouble broke out at Arkham, Red Hood was sure to appear.

Peter wasn't in a hurry to intervene. He was too much of a stranger to the situation here; he needed to observe first. Acting rashly could lead to dire consequences—a lesson he had learned well.

After waiting for an indeterminate amount of time, the team of doctors appeared again. On their stretcher lay a prison guard who seemed to have lost consciousness, lying perfectly still.

Peter’s spider-sense triggered faster than his brain could process. He tensed his body like a black bullet and lunged—he couldn't let them take this person away!

In the blink of an eye, the four "doctors" were downed. The "doctor" left behind by the ambulance raised a gun and fired at Peter in rapid succession. Peter flipped his body to dodge the bullets, used the opponent's chest as a stepping stone to kick him over, and then used the momentum to leap toward the overturned stretcher.

The person on the stretcher had his eyes open. Seeing the black shadow loom over him, he fired a shot immediately. Peter tilted his head slightly, dodging the bullet within a half-meter range.

The man’s eyes widened, then his mouth split into a grin. He chuckled softly and asked, "You're not one of the little bats. Who are you?"

"That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you. Who are you?" Peter easily disarmed him, dislocating his wrist for good measure. Amidst the man’s shrieks, Peter snatched the police cap off his head—"You don't deserve to wear this"—revealing sparse green hair and a pale, rotting face. Peter reached his conclusion: "Joker?"

"Interesting, interesting. The little bat has a new friend," Joker laughed hysterically. His laughter was cut short by Peter’s sudden movement—Peter violently threw him off the stretcher onto the ground. At the same moment, bullets fired from the direction of the Central Treatment Wing grazed the top of Joker’s head and embedded themselves into the concrete. Amidst Joker’s cries of pain and laughter, a dozen more bullets followed. The attacker emptied his magazine in an instant, but Peter had already shielded himself and Joker behind the ambulance.

The gunfire paused for a moment. Peter peeked out, and the attacker’s head, which shone like a disco ball even in the darkness, allowed him to instantly recognize who it was: Red Hood.

"Another sweetie with a no-kill rule," Joker rambled, even with his broken hand. "I have a feeling Uncle Joker is going to have some new fun."

"Shut up if you don't want to die," Peter said in a low voice.

Ignoring the distraction of Joker’s voice, Peter knew Red Hood was slowly approaching the ambulance. If he or Joker entered his field of vision, they would be met with another hail of bullets.

Jason was hiding behind the ambulance doors, focused on the direction where the mysterious man in black had ducked with Joker—they were just on the side of the vehicle. Jason would have killed Joker without hesitation, and as for the stranger, whether he was there to save Joker or was a new member of the bat-family, Jason didn't mind taking him out if he stood in his way.

He lunged out, only to be met by two large, pitch-black lenses. Jason fired without a word, but he watched as the stranger in the strange suit simply twisted his body, and all the bullets missed again.

Peter grabbed Jason’s wrist and squeezed, using the same method he had used on Joker, but only with enough force to make him drop the gun, not to injure him—otherwise, it would be dangerous for Jason to face other escaped inmates. However, Jason balled his hand into a fist, activating the shock emitter hidden in his gauntlet. Blue electricity crackled where they touched, but Peter showed no signs of distress.

His suit was insulated. Jason was shocked.

The situation was very unfavorable for him. Jason should have retreated immediately, but he absolutely refused to let Joker go when he was this close.

Peter, however, chose to take a step back, maintaining a clear distance from Jason, and held up his hands to show he meant no harm.

"Who are you?" Jason asked.

Peter was actually dying to speak; having to maintain his secret identity while staying silent was more painful than anything else. But he couldn't risk revealing his identity, especially since he had interacted with Red Hood before, and the man might recognize his voice.

So, Peter shook his head, pointed at the bound Joker at his feet, then used his arms to mimic the shape of wings, and finally held two fingers up to his head to represent ears.

Jason: "...Batman? You're going to hand him over to Batman?"

Peter gave Jason a thumbs-up and nodded vigorously.

"No way!" Jason raged. "I'm going to kill him myself!"

Saying this, Jason stepped forward, but Peter pushed him in the chest. Jason felt an undeniable force that easily pushed him back to his original spot.

Peter held up one finger, shook it, then made a throat-slitting gesture, and shook his finger again.

Jason: "...No killing?"

He received a second thumbs-up from Peter.

Jason was absolutely livid.

Peter waved a hand at Jason and bent down to grab Joker by the collar. Joker’s police uniform was disheveled, revealing the style of his Arkham inmate uniform beneath. A large button on his chest caught Peter’s eye, and he couldn't help but glance at it.

The next second, the button suddenly opened a small hole, and a blast of laughing gas sprayed directly into Peter’s face!

*It's over,* Jason thought.

Joker’s laughter was ear-piercing: "Hahahahaha! Hahahahahaha!" It seemed to be a declaration of yet another victory for him.