In a fit of rage, the Penguin fired his gun. Spider-Man leaped in the air, web sticking to the umbrella, yanking it upwards. The Penguin stumbled downwards, his umbrella gun clattering on the floor. The crowd let out a gasp as the bullet struck one of the windows reducing it to a shower of glass. That was when Penguin’s goons started firing.

Spider-Man started dodging the bullets, weaving in and out of the bullets crawling across the wall and leaping from side to side. Glass panes shattered, there were holes in the walls and the glass sculptures were mowed down like grass.

Spider-Man landed at the centre of all the goons. “Guys can we stop shooting at the Wayne Manor.” Spider-Man attached his web to one of the goons. “If Mr. Wayne sues I doubt any of you would be able to afford it.”

He grabbed the goon like a featherweight and spun around, the goon hit his fellow thugs like a sledgehammer, knocking them down. By the time Spider-Man was done using him as a wrecking ball, he was dizzy and unconscious.

It was at that moment, the crowd decided to scatter making Peter’s job even harder. The goons started firing at them but Peter was faster, disarming them and knocking them out, making sure they didn’t kill anybody.

The Penguin took this as an opportunity, gathering up half a dozen goons who dragged Brucie-boy away, knocking him across the face as he struggled against them causing him to crumple on the floor. Penguin fired wildly into the air in order to stir more panic.

“On no you don’t,” Spider-Man said. He swooped in from the air in order to try and get Bruce away from the goons but that’s when they started firing wildly, causing Spider-Man to swerve away from them.

Penguin pulled out a walkie talkie. “Skinner, bring the truck and let’s get the hell outta here.”

Spider-Man swung towards Penguin but Penguin pointed his gun at him and fired. Spider-Man leaped out of the way as the bullet struck a chandelier causing it to plummet downwards like a comet. One unfortunate bystander was under it but before the chandelier landed Spider-Man swooped in and got him out of the way.

Standing in front of Spider-Man was an old man with greying red hair and long moustache whose face Peter saw in a lot of newspapers.

“You alright, Commissioner?” Spider-Man asked.

“Yes,” Commissioner Gordon mumbled, mumbling something about how people in masks are popping up like flies under his breath. “Have you seen my daughter, Barbara. Red hair, green eyes.”

“No, I haven’t, Commish,” Spider-Man said, in all the excitement he’d almost forgotten about Barbara and Dick. He wondered if they made it out safely. “But I’ll tell you if I do.”

Gordon nodded. “Thanks, Spider boy.”

“It’s Spider-Man,” Spider-Man corrected.

“You sure as hell don’t act like a man,” Gordon said, pulling out a cigarette.

Spider-Man swung away. Gordon took out his phone, calling Hennelly.

“Hennelly, call in SWAT,” Gordon said. “Penguin has been sighted at the Wayne Manor. he has Bruce Wayne in his custody.”

Gordon took another swig of his cigarette and started looking around the manor for his daughter. This was looking to be one hell of a night.

…

Outside the manor, cars zoomed around in a panicked frenzy. People were screaming and shouting into their phones and crowding around cars, begging for rides home. Meanwhile Spider-Man saw Penguin amidst the frenzied crowd from his vantage point on the mansion, firing his gun into the air to clear people out sauntering towards a truck. Spider-Man immediately broke into a run, sprinting towards the truck to make sure it didn’t get away.

Penguin, making sure the coast was clear, slammed the doors of the truck shut. Spider-Man took this as an opportunity to attach a web towards the backdoors of the truck and swing on top of it.

There was a loud thud on the roof of the truck. The Penguin looked up and so did Bruce and the thugs inside.

“Prolly just the wind,” Penguin said.

Inside the truck there were a few wooden crates in the back. The goons were all huddled together with Bruce handcuffed, his back against the wooden crates. Penguin walked towards him, a sneer plastered across his face.

“You’re a long way from home Brucie boy,” Penguin said, staring face to face with Bruce. “How does it feel to not have a Butler tending to those bruises on your face.”

“The same way your family felt when they went bankrupt.”

The Penguin grit his teeth. He raised his fist, ready to strike him across the face when there was a sudden screech of metal. The Penguin and his goons looked up to two red fists jutting out of the roof, the hands clawed at the rough edges and tore the roof open like it was paper.

“Did anybody miss me?” Spider-Man said.

The goons started firing at him causing Spider-Man to jump back.

They heard a dense thud on the side of the truck. The goons started firing there. They heard movement like someone was crawling through vents and suddenly the back door was torn open.

“Shooting at someone is not a good way to show appreciation.”

The thugs pointed their guns at him. Penguin had the tip of his umbrella pointed straight at Spider-Man’s face.

“Then again I’m pretty sure your parents didn’t teach you manners.”

The thugs started firing. Spider-Man leaped backwards and attached two webs to side of the trucks. Leaping onto the roof he quickly attached a web to the piece of the truck door skidding across the ground and leaped on it, using it like a skateboard.

The bullets rained down upon him but Spider-Man weaved out of their way like a gymnast, dodging, jumping and ducking out of the way. One of the thugs tried slicing his webs but Spider-Man quickly launched a web causing his hand to be stuck on the wall.

Spider-Man leaped and dodged, launching his webs at goons to prevent them from firing. He launched a web at one goon’s face causing him to shoot upwards as he struggled to rip the webs off his face. One of his friends tackled him across the ground, causing his gun to fall over the edge and clatter harmlessly past Spider-Man.

The Penguin let out a scream of frustration. “This isn’t going anywhere!”

He shifted past the goons who were still firing madly at Spider-Man who launched webs and that splattered across the wall in counterattack. He walked past Bruce who was staring at him with that same expression that pissed him off and opened the wooden crate. There was a blue glow cast across the surface of the crate. The Penguin grinned. He fumbled as he tried to put on earmuffs as the truck shifted and turned but boy oh boy the damage this would cause.

“Time to bring out the big guns.”

The goons stared in awe as the Penguin trotted ahead with a large metallic weapon that had something that looked like a cone at the end. Spider-Man was also taken aback at the sight of the weapon.

The Penguin grinned. “Cover your ears boys!”

“Things are about to get loud in here.”

Spider-Man tried launching webs in retaliation as the weapon started up with an electronic hum. A blue ball grew in the centre of the weapon, expanding and expanding. Spider-Man tried launching a web at the centre but it was reduced to nothingness.

The blue ball grew and the Penguin fired.

A huge white wave washed over the road, reducing it into little chunks that scattered across the ground. Everything that was washed by the wave was reduced to nothingness, including the trees which were nothing but wooden shards that clattered across the ground.

Spider-Man couldn’t stop the buzzing in his head. It hurt his entire skull, like an electric wire was directly in his brain. His senses were wild, his ears ringing whilst the world around him was muffled. His eyesight blurry, the trees around him multiplying whilst he could also see every last detail in the leaves.

“He’s up on the roof,” the Penguin said. “Fire away.”

Spider-Man could sense the bullets firing from below. He stumbled across the roof, falling over, a bullet inches away from his head.

Penguin knocked at the front of the truck. “Gun it, Skinner!”

“N-No,” Spider-Man mumbled but he couldn’t hear his own voice.

Spider-Man got up just as the truck started speeding ahead. Spider-Man’s body was shaking, the buzzing in his head still wouldn’t go away. He fell over, trying his hardest to hold on to the truck but the pain, oh god the pain.

He plummeted on the ground, moaning in pain. In a last-ditch effort, he tried attaching his web to the truck but all it was met with was air. It fell on the ground like a flimsy piece of string and the truck was no more than a speck in the distance.

“Dammit,” Spider-Man groaned, as he lay on the ground defeated.

The buzzing was starting to subside, the starry sky was starting to look normal instead of two globes starting to clash into one another.

“God dammit!” Spider-Man growled, hitting the ground beneath him. Now Bruce Wayne was kidnapped by some stupid British midget and it was all his fault. How would the people of Gotham react knowing that Spider-Man was responsible for quite possibly the murder of one of Gotham’s most influential figures?

He should have just left this to the cops or hell, even Batman, Peter thought. He shouldn’t have been an idiot and charge after him like a bull with no thought whatsoever. Now whatever the hell happened to Bruce was all on him. Whatever happened to one of Peter’s heroes was on all him. Some stupid 15-year-old kid who thought he was could handle something the cops could. He ripped off the mask and tossed it on the ground, letting out a deep sigh. To hell with being Spider-Man, Peter thought. Someone else should have been bitten by the Spider. He’d even take Flash fucking Thompson. Anybody but him.

Suddenly he heard a rumbling noise, the sound of an engine. He quickly put on his mask. He might not want to be Spider-Man but he didn’t want Peter Parker to take the fall for not rescuing Bruce.

There was a flash of light, like a beacon. The bike tumbled on the rocky road. Upon further inspection the bike was a bright red and yellow colour and as it drew closer, Peter noticed a yellow R emblazoned in the front.

The bike screeched to a stop in front of Peter. Sitting on the bike like a knight atop his steed was Robin. Biking goggles atop his black mask, jet black hair swept by the wind, shifting to one side. Instead of the yellow underwear Peter was used to seeing in the newspapers, he instead wore red chest armour with a yellow R on the left side with green sleeves, black pants and a yellow cape.

“Hey Spider-dork,” Robin said. “Hop on, we're going to find Bruce Wayne.”

To be continued…