Author's Notes:
First of all, thanks for giving this story a chance. I've been cooking this since June 2023, after so much inspiration coming from the usual suspects in the Spider-Man and Batman crossover giants.
One of my most favorite kind of crossover ideas is when people actually try to integrate the new character in a new world, and Arachnomaly will be like that.
Word of Warning: this is a comic book inspired Peter Parker, not a movie version, so not that young and more used to the weirdness of comic books.
Word of Advice: the novel is getting rewritten, the train will not go through the same tracks, the river will not flow through the same course.
Also, chapters will vary in length and tone.
Many thanks to Faeriekit for taking their time to tolerate my ramblings and giving me tips and great advices.
My many grammar errors and mistyping are all my own, though.
Inspired by the following sotries found in the Archive of Our Own:
Quiet Respite by Faeriekit.
Dark Matter by mysterycyclone.
Peter the Pizza Guy by Irisen.
Along Came A Spider by RagsnBones.
Make It Out Just to Fall by derryhawkins.
All these works, including this one, you can find also at Archive of Our Own - my first project there, ever - You can find me there as Songue85.
Part 1 - Introduction
Where am I? Are you sure you want to know?
The story of how I got to Gotham City and became one of its protectors is not for the faint of heart. Hell, Gotham City is not for the faint of heart.
If somebody said it was just like any other unhappy little city... if somebody told you it was another average crappy place, like many others in the world...
… Well, buddy, somebody lied. Even from where I'm from, this is a hell hole of a city.
(And I've been to Manhattan below 14th Street at eleven minutes past midnight on the coldest night in November. This place is worse.)
Don't get me wrong, there are good people in Gotham City, some very good people, in fact, that do what they can every day to make this place less sucky… but sometimes the good doesn't make up for the awful, the indifferent and the hopeless.
Did you know Gotham City has the largest number of criminally insane convicts ever? Like, in History?
(True fact, saw it on Reddit.)
Things I first had to learn since I… arrived here?
The cops and bureaucrats are all corrupt. New York City's finest had some really rotten apples, but Gotham has a whole orchard. The Commissioner - Gotham's Chief of Police - is apparently one of the very few shining stars on top of a Government sponsored thug army
Also, there are rich people here, and they are filthy rich. And also too focused on their high society lives to care that the poor are suffering.
Sure, they have balls, and galas, and fundraisers, and whatever else they do while they hang out in their yachts in international waters to help the "destitute", but not a single one of these things has happened without being robbed or diverted by some phantom company, which, you guessed it, is owned by one of the filthy rich.
The criminals flood the streets with the 'blessings' of Crime Bosses and super-villains. There are gangs, and mob families, and criminal organizations, and henchmen and the occasional small-time crooks envisioning themselves as promising future criminal entrepreneurs, but, knowingly or not, they all act according to what the big names want them to do.
The sky almost always seems to forebode a storm brewing on the horizon.
And the worst of all, there is the insanity, almost palpable, always around you when you walk through the worst parts of this city.
So you might be asking, "Man, if this place is such a dump, why are you still there?"
On the good days, when I bust up a gang of clowns rummaging through the contents of a stolen Wayne Enterprise truck - me, cracking a few jokes, them, getting a few bones cracked - I would tell you that I am doing my part, making this city a little less loopy.
On some nights, though, when I get to the men just as they start unzipping their pants over some helpless victim in a dark alley, screaming for help, while policemen keep inside their patrol car, just around the corner and well within earshot and doing nothing about it… I would remind you that the cracking of jokes is always inversely proportional to the cracking of bones.
My real answer boils down to the one I've been giving since the very beginning: I have to do my part, because it's my responsibility.
And, for all the bad things I have been saying about it, this city is worth fighting for… but not because of the art or the billionaires or the (amazing) science facilities you can find in it.
Crowded. Gloomy. Bleak. A city stuck in a perpetual muck, apparently incapable of ever getting better. Helplessness and fatalism, ask anyone on the streets if they believe the city is worth saving, and the inhabitants of Gotham will laugh in your face.
But the thing about fatalism? It's not the same as giving up.
In Gotham City, there is always someone jumping off of a building, but, ironically, very few suicides. Gothamites are tough as hell, tougher than demons, tougher because of demons.
I once read in a book, 'For after all, the best thing one can do when it is raining is let it rain.' Gotham People live their lives and fight for their lives, but never being blind to the fact that it's their lot in life that things will never be safe or much better than they are now.
The problem is that the rain stops sometimes and we can all hope for the sun to come out. And folks here just sorta… forgot about it. They forgot to hope for the sunny days.
That is where I come in!
I jump, the thrill of the fall, surrendering to gravity, the gothic architecture zooms out and concrete and mirrored windows take its place, a shock of styles, of visions, of ideas, and I'm a blur.
I aim my arm at an angle and press the trigger in my palm, 'thwip!' and catch, the web strand connects me to a bank building half a block away, and my fall turns me into a pendulum.
I skim close to the street, so close I can almost touch the asphalt, so fast the moment is gone, the web strand released and my body is propelled forward, twists and screws in the air.
People gasp while I shout the usual 'Good morning, everyone!' or 'It's Spider-Man, with a hyphen!' as I pull circus stunts between lamp posts and street signs. It's not just saving on web fluid, it's for the people.
The showing off, the death defying stunts, at their level, almost in reach.
They see me and I'm not a menace.
I'm their friendly neighborhood.
(And I'm also saving a lot in web fluid.)
"The difference between living and dying", a very smart guy once told me, "is managing fear."
His name was Reed Richards.
"Be too afraid or not enough and you risk losing everything, your life, your loved ones, your whole universe."
"But what if you end up losing what you love anyway, Reed?", I asked the man with the highest IQ I have ever met.
Reed, always the thinker, grew quiet for a moment.
The answer, unsurprisingly, came from his wife, Sue: "Don't give into fear, then. If we're down, we rise. If we fail, we try again. If we lose the battle, we win the war. And if you lose what you love… you must love again. To be afraid of losing what you cherish the most or opening yourself to care once more is to not truly live anymore."
(Sue always did have high stats in both Intelligence and Wisdom.)
I don't love Gotham City, not like some people I met here do. Heck, I'm pretty sure this whole place must have been built on top of a satanic ritual site, two native american burial grounds and one those hellmouths from the Buffy show.
But I love its people.
When they actually show their nobility, that spark of wanting to be better and do better, then no amount of grime can cover their shine.
So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to help them not give into fear.
"Rise and shine, Gotham City!"
I push myself from the roof of a car, changing my direction 90 degrees to the side, spraying and pulling a web strand to propel myself into a sharp left turn, quick and precise enough to grab the unsuspecting jaywalker in my path and pull him out of the incoming car.
I let the impulse carry our bodies still in motion, and grabbing a light post, let the distracted guy fall safe and seated on a bench, while I twist in the air and perch on the side of the post.
"So", I say, "What did we learn in school again? 'Stop, Look and Listen'! Now tell me, was the little man in the lights green or…"
"Screw you, you maniac!", says the man who almost became a casualty. "You almost got me killed!"
I stare at him. (And he knows I'm staring, the mask doesn't move, but trust me, people can get it when I do it.)
Hand in my chest, theatrical pose, standing perpendicular to the sidewalk, I go: "I offered you friendship and you spat on my face. Is this the kind of behavior Mr. Rogers taught you? Or Bluey? I think I know when I'm not wanted, good day, sir!"
And I make the effort of the extra flare on my exit, cartwheeling over a bus and dashing away.
(I did say something about loving Gothamites, didn't I? Oh, boy.)
To be continued!