The truck pulled into the Wayne Manor garage at 2 AM. Bruce had sent Pennyworth to clear the staff. They worked alone.
Twenty lead-lined curse boxes. Hundreds of books. Artifacts sealed in protective cases. Everything disappeared into the underground vault beneath the manor.
By dawn, no trace remained.
Bruce sat in his study with his father. Thomas Wayne looked exhausted, surrounded by journals spread across the desk.
"This is real," Thomas said quietly, holding an old leather notebook. "Patrick's handwriting. These are expedition logs. 1955. They documented... hunts. Creature encounters. Everything."
"I know, Dad."
Thomas picked up an alchemy book. The pages were covered in diagrams—transmutation circles, alchemical formulas, ingredient lists for binding spells.
"Your grandfather was trying to convert base metals into something else. Not gold. Something supernatural. A binding agent for demon traps." Thomas looked at Bruce. "How is any of this possible?"
"Because the world is bigger than we thought," Bruce said. "Remember Superman? With red underwear"
Thomas nodded slowly.
"There are demons. Witches. Creatures that hunt humans. The Men of Letters studied them. They protected people from them. Grandfather Patrick was part of that. He died doing it."
"Killed by a demon," Thomas repeated, as if saying the words again would make them true.
"Yes."
Thomas set the book down and looked at his son. " Why do you want enter this world?"
"I have to," Bruce said. "The Winchesters may already know this, thats they refused to meet us, thinking we don't know about this world "
As weeks passed by, Bruce enrolled in Professor Margaret Chen's doctoral linguistics program at Gotham University.
The course focused on dead languages— sanskrit, Tamil, Chinese, Latin, Greek, Aramaic, ancient Sumerian.
Most students took notes. Bruce photographed every page.
The exorcism texts required perfect Latin pronunciation. One word wrong could mean failure. The university had an entire section on ecclesiastical Latin—the formal religious language used in binding rituals.
"Your pronunciation is flawless," Professor Chen said during office hours. "Where did you study before?"
"Private tutoring," Bruce said. "Family business."
She accepted that without question.
Meanwhile, at home, Thomas worked through the Men of Letters journals at night. He called Bruce into his study one evening.
"No. He died before he could." Thomas closed the journal.
He kept order things from alchemy books holy water, salt and looked at various ingredients.
The Osborn Technologies expo took place on a Tuesday afternoon.
High school students from across New York were invited. Educational outreach. PR for the company.
Bruce attended in civilian clothes. Just another interested observer.
He was waiting for Peter Parker.
The tour moved through the genetic research wing. Displays showed spider venom analysis, biomechanical engineering, genetic mutation studies.
Then it happened.
A cage of radioactive spiders sat in a secure case. Bright purple coloring. Aggressive. The handler explained their properties—enhanced strength, advanced neural systems, experimental radiation exposure.
One spider's leg caught on the latch.
The cage door opened slightly.
The purple spider crawled out.
No one noticed except Bruce.
The spider moved fast, disappearing into the crowd. Students shuffled. Teachers pointed at displays.
Then the spider struck.
Peter Parker collapsed, clutching his arm. A small bite mark, barely visible. Red. Already swelling.
"I'm okay," Peter said quickly, standing up. "Just a spider bite. It's fine."
The handler rushed to secure the cage again. The tour continued.
Bruce had already moved. He pulled out a small container from his jacket—a transparent case, designed for specimens. The purple spider was near the electrical outlet, disoriented.
Bruce trapped it quickly. Sealed the container. Pocketed it.
No one saw.
Peter Parker walked out of the expo with his friends, his arm already tingling with something. Something alive. Something changing.
Bruce watched him leave.
The spider—the real one, the golden one that would matter—was in his pocket.
At night, Bruce's team assembled at the hideout. The converted warehouse in Brooklyn's industrial sector. Weapons. Plans. Equipment.
Wade Wilson (Deadpool) stretched his arms. Red suit. Katanas strapped to his back.
Poison Ivy examined her plants in the corner. Vines. Toxins. Always useful for distractions.
Selina Kyle (Catwoman) checked her gear. Whips. Grappling hooks. Precision equipment.
Herman Schultz (Shocker) powered up his gauntlets. The vibration technology hummed to life.
"Osborn Labs. Sub-level 3. The genetic research wing," Bruce explained, pointing at a blueprint. "Fifteen experimental spiders. All radioactive. All dangerous."
" Do we get bonus this time?" Selina asked.
"Yeah, double."
Wade shrugged. "Good enough for me. Let's go steal some spiders."
The team moved through the Osborn Labs ventilation system. Wade went first—he was stupid enough to do anything.
The lab was dark. Security cameras were looped. The alarm system had been hacked by Bruce's tech specialist forty minutes earlier.
They reached the containment chamber.
Fifteen spiders. Purple. Aggressive. Moving. All in separate reinforced containers arranged on a climate-controlled shelf.
"Flash time," Wade said.
He pulled out a massive flashlight—customized by Wayne Industries. The beam was intense, bright.
Container by container, cat women carefully transferred the spiders into larger transport vessels—lead-lined cases designed to keep radiation contained and prevent tracking.
"This one's biting the case," she said.
"That's normal. Keep moving," Bruce said through the earpiece.
Herman positioned himself at the door. If security showed up, the Shocker would keep them busy.
Ivy was outside, her plants ready to block hallways if needed.
Fifteen minutes. Twelve spiders secured.
Thirteen. Fourteen.
They extracted quickly. No alarms. No guards. The security footage would show nothing.
The team brought the spiders back to the converted warehouse. Bruce carefully transferred each one into lead-lined container, bruce hand was cut in that hassle and his blood drop in container of spider 🕷️.
Fifteen radioactive spiders with bruce blood, as He stacked them in the climate-controlled room and went to sleep.
By morning, he checked on them.
The lights were off. Bruce slowly left the place, tommorow he will work on these spider bite and become spiderman.
Little did he know spider started to move the blood of bruce drop and fight
against each other in night, and a fight of 15 spider took place, one by one various spider ate each other and at last container movement stopped.
As night passed, morning Bruce opened it carefully
Inside was a single spider—tiny, golden, with a web pattern across its back like a tattoo. Perfectly formed. Alive. Conscious.
The other spiders had disappear from the container.
This one was only remaining alive.