Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Rebirth in the Pit**
Darkness swallowed him whole. A heavy, suffocating weight pressed against his chest, the sensation of drowning in something thick and unnatural. The liquid burned—hot and cold at the same time, crawling into his lungs, seeping into his very bones. His limbs flailed, fingers clawing at the surface as his mind screamed for air. Then, suddenly, he was free. A small body gasped, shivering, as he pulled himself from the eerie green waters of the Lazarus Pit. His suit, once pristine and battle-worn with experience, clung to him awkwardly, loose in some places, too tight in others. He stumbled onto solid ground, coughing up the thick substance that had invaded his lungs. Something was wrong. His head pounded, memories slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. Who was he? Where was he? He looked down at himself, the red and blue of his torn costume catching his eye. The symbol—a spider—felt familiar, but it did not give him answers. His hands, small and trembling, pressed against his face. He was young. Too young. A child. But that wasn’t right, was it? A sharp sound echoed in the cavern. Voices. Footsteps. Panic flared in his chest, and instincts he couldn’t name screamed at him to run. He barely had time to stagger away from the Pit before a hidden door slid open, revealing a group of figures dressed in dark robes. Their eyes locked onto him, widening in shock. "Impossible," one whispered. "He survived the Pit," another murmured. The tallest of them, a man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward. His gaze was sharp, calculating. "The child is not one of ours," he said, voice laced with suspicion. "But he is powerful." Too many unknowns. Too much danger. His muscles tensed, and before they could react, he moved. The world blurred as he launched himself upward, his hands gripping the rocky ceiling before flipping over their heads. His body moved on instinct, dodging, twisting, escaping. They shouted, reaching for weapons, but he was already gone, sprinting into the tunnels of Gotham’s underground. --- The city was cold, far colder than the heat of the cavern. Rain drizzled from the sky, soaking through his too-thin costume. His stomach twisted, empty and aching. The streets of Gotham loomed around him, the towering buildings pressing in, unfamiliar and hostile. He needed food. Shelter. Answers. Ducking into an alley, he climbed with an ease that should have surprised him—but didn’t. The walls, the bricks, the very air spoke to him in ways he couldn’t explain. A whisper in the back of his mind guided him, showing him where to grip, where to leap. Within moments, he was on a rooftop, looking down at the maze of the city below. Then he heard it. A low growl. Heavy footsteps. A shadow detached from the darkness, and for the first time, he saw him. Batman. The figure was larger than life, a towering symbol of the night itself. The cape billowed in the wind, the white slits of his mask locking onto him like a predator spotting prey. "You're trespassing," the Dark Knight said, voice a growl. He stepped back instinctively, his senses screaming danger. Batman moved fast. Too fast. One moment, he was across the rooftop; the next, he was looming over him. "What are you doing in my city?" "I—" His voice came out small, unsure. "I don't know." Batman’s eyes narrowed. He saw the hesitation, the fear. But he also saw something else—the unnatural way the boy had moved, the way he had evaded him for even a few seconds. A meta. "Name," Batman demanded. His mind was blank. He had no name. "Where did you come from?" He hesitated again, stepping back. Batman's jaw tightened. "Answer me." A gloved hand reached for him, and terror exploded in his chest. His body reacted before his mind could catch up. He ran. A web shot from his wrist, latching onto a building as he propelled himself away. Batman’s eyes widened beneath the mask. That was new. --- The alley was cold, damp, and smelled like things he didn’t want to name. But it was safe. For now. He pulled his knees to his chest, shivering as hunger gnawed at his stomach. He didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know where he was. But he knew one thing. He was alone. A slow clap echoed through the alley. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The voice was smooth, lilting, with a hint of madness curling at the edges. A man stepped into the dim light, his grin too wide, too sharp. Green hair. White skin. A purple coat draped over his thin frame like a king surveying his kingdom. The boy tensed. He should run. He should hide. But something about the man’s expression made him pause. Unlike the Bat’s cold, hard gaze, this one was warm—almost amused. "Lost, are we?" the man asked, crouching to meet his eyes. "Poor little spider, all tangled up in the big, bad city." The boy didn't answer. The man’s grin widened. "Oh, I like you already." And just like that, the boy's life changed forever.