Spider-Bat: New Way Home
Chapter Three: Born to Run
It was well past midnight when Mary and Richard finally arrived at Wayne Manor. The estate was surrounded by towering concrete walls, and at the entrance of the driveway stood a tall, locked iron gate.
Richard pressed the buzzer on the security box. At first, there was no response. He pressed it again—once, twice—before a voice finally crackled through the speaker. The distinctly British accent was unmistakably irritated.
"What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing ringing the buzzer at this hour? Go away! Come back in the morning like civilized people!" Alfred Pennyworth snapped.
"Please, sir, this is an emergency!" Richard pleaded. "My name is Richard Parker. I went to college with Thomas Wayne. I'm here with my wife, Mary. We're on the run from a maniac named Norman Osborn, and we have nowhere else to go. We were attacked earlier today, and I believe Thomas is the only one who can help us. I beg you, wake him up!"
There was a brief pause before Alfred finally responded. "I've always despised that prick, Norman Osborn," he muttered. A second later, the iron gate creaked open.
Alfred met them at the front door, his expression still tinged with irritation but softened by curiosity. After ushering them inside, he disappeared upstairs to wake Thomas.
Moments later, Thomas Wayne descended the grand staircase, dressed in a robe, his expression drowsy but alert. He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes as if ensuring he wasn't still dreaming. With a slight yawn, he finally spoke.
"It's been a long time, Richard," he said. "Alfred mentioned you were attacked by Norman Osborn. What happened?"
Richard hesitated before responding, his voice heavy with regret. "We made a terrible mistake, Thomas. Mary and I desperately wanted a child, but due to a medical condition, she's unable to conceive. Norman had developed a cure, but he refused to let her use it. So… with the help of a co-worker, we broke into his lab and tried to steal it. But everything went horribly wrong. A giant bat attacked us, and in the chaos, the test tube containing the cure was destroyed.
"Norman found out we were responsible. He ambushed us while we were asleep. When he realized we no longer had the formula, one of his masked men knocked us unconscious. They then set fire to our house—with us inside it."
Thomas's brow furrowed. "How did you escape if you were unconscious?"
"We don't know," Richard admitted. "We woke up hours later in an abandoned warehouse. We thought maybe our co-worker had saved us, but there was no evidence to support that theory."
Thomas considered this for a moment. "And how did you get here?"
Richard hesitated again, exchanging a brief glance with Mary. "We… stole a car," he admitted. "It ran out of gas about two miles down the road. We walked the rest of the way. But don't worry, we pushed the car into a wooded area and covered it with branches. No one saw us. We weren't followed."
Thomas exhaled deeply. "I'll have Alfred dispose of it properly in the morning." He gestured toward the couch. "Sit. Tell me—why do you believe I can help?"
Richard leaned forward. "Right now, we just need a safe place to stay while we figure out our next move."
As he spoke, soft footsteps echoed down the stairs. Martha Wayne appeared, cradling a small bundle in her arms. Her voice was quiet but firm.
"What's going on down here?" she asked. "The baby woke up, and when I didn't see you in bed, I came to check. Who are these people?"
"Sorry for waking you, dear," Thomas said gently. "This is Richard Parker, an old colleague of mine, and his wife, Mary. They're in trouble and need our help."
Martha's eyes narrowed slightly. "What kind of trouble?"
"Norman Osborn kind of trouble."
Martha let out a dry scoff. "I've always hated that prick." Then, catching herself, she glanced down at the baby in her arms. "Pardon my language."
Mary slowly stepped forward, her gaze drawn to the infant in Martha's arms. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "What's his name?"
Martha smiled softly. "Bruce. Bruce Thomas Wayne. He's six months old."
Before the conversation could continue, Alfred cleared his throat. "Ahem. It is dreadfully late. Shall I prepare the guest room for our visitors?"
"Yes, please, Alfred," Thomas replied. He turned to Richard and Mary. "We'll talk more in the morning. For now, you're welcome to stay as long as you need."
Martha instinctively clutched Bruce a little tighter. Mary noticed the concern flicker across her face and felt a pang of guilt. "I promise, we won't stay long," she reassured.
"Don't be ridiculous," Martha replied, brushing off the concern. "There's plenty of room at the manor. Besides, it's been a while since we've had company."
Mary gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you for your kindness. We truly appreciate it." She glanced down at the baby one last time, her voice tender. "Goodnight, little Bruce," she whispered before following Alfred upstairs.
Richard and Mary remained at Wayne Manor far longer than they had originally intended. The situation grew more precarious when authorities failed to recover their bodies from the remains of their burned-down home, making it inevitable that Norman Osborn would continue searching for them. A missing-persons report would soon circulate, ensuring their faces were plastered across the metropolitan area. They also knew Norman would distribute their images to every hitman at his disposal.
Going to the police was not an option. They suspected that Osborn had officers on his payroll, a suspicion reinforced by his veiled threats about having access to all street cameras within a three-mile radius of Oscorp. To maintain their anonymity, Richard and Mary wore disguises whenever they left the manor. Thomas even provided a hidden driveway in a wooded area behind the estate, allowing them to park their vehicle discreetly upon their return.
To sustain themselves financially, Mary assisted Alfred with household duties or cared for Bruce, while Richard contributed to Wayne Industries by designing various projects. Thomas facilitated this by setting up a secure workstation in a hidden laboratory beneath the study, granting Richard access to a fully equipped research facility.
Within a month of their stay, Mary noticed a sudden and unexpected change—her stomach had begun to show a baby bump, and she frequently felt nauseous. She was bewildered, as she had never taken the cure at Oscorp. Though she and Richard had longed for a child, she knew that now was hardly the ideal time, given their fugitive status. Thomas, drawing on his medical expertise, estimated that she might already be two months along based on the extent of her physical changes. He also proposed the possibility that she had been misdiagnosed and had always been capable of conceiving.
Regardless of the cause, one fact was certain—Mary was pregnant. However, the pregnancy progressed at an alarming rate, and within just four months, she unexpectedly went into labor.
Even for someone as medically advanced as Thomas, this case was extraordinary. While Mary had not yet reached her third trimester, the ultrasound scans depicted a fully developed infant, as though she had completed a full-term pregnancy. With little time to prepare, Thomas swiftly arranged for the delivery. He had Mary lie down, instructed Richard to support her, and directed Martha and Alfred to fetch towels, washcloths, and blankets.
Twenty minutes later, a baby boy was born. Despite the dire circumstances, Mary and Richard were overwhelmed with joy as they held their child for the first time.
"What will you name him?" Martha asked, smiling down at the newborn, just as Mary had when she first met Bruce.
Mary turned to Richard, a warm smile forming on her lips. "We were thinking of naming him Peter," she said. "After Saint Peter. His full name will be Peter Benjamin Parker."
As Thomas moved to remove the amniotic sac, he froze in astonishment. The amniotic fluid was an inky black, and the sac itself bore a bizarre, larval-like texture. He had never encountered anything like it in his medical career. Then again, he had never witnessed a pregnancy of this nature before, either.
"Those two have some explaining to do," he thought to himself. Realizing the significance of this anomaly, he carefully preserved the amniotic material, intending to conduct further studies in his laboratory.
Richard and Mary had only spent a few weeks with their newborn when—
A sharp knock echoed through the halls of Wayne Manor. The front door.
When Alfred answered, he found a middle-aged man standing before him, his brown hair neatly combed back, streaked with gray. He wore a well-tailored, three-piece gray suit, exuding an air of authority.
"Who in bloody blazes are you? And how did you get past the security gate?" Alfred demanded.
The man calmly produced a badge. "Karl Fiers, CIA," he introduced himself. "We've been tracking a suspect, and we believe they may have found their way to this area." He reached into his pocket, producing a photograph of Richard and Mary. "Have you seen these—"
"NO." Alfred cut him off abruptly, feigning irritation at the breach of security. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have supper to prepare," he added, pushing the door closed.
Before he could shut it, Fiers wedged his foot in the gap. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Alfred. "How many are you preparing supper for?" he asked, his tone shifting. "The woman in the photo—she might be pregnant."
Alfred froze for the briefest moment before regaining his composure. "Move your foot," he ordered.
Fiers, sensing deception, became visibly irate. "I AM WITH THE CIA, GODDAMMIT!" he barked, shoving the door open and forcing Alfred to step back. "I HAVE THE RIGHT TO VERIFY IF THESE TWO PEOPLE ARE HERE!" His eyes darted around, scanning the interior.
Alfred, unfazed, squared his shoulders and blocked his path. "Then perhaps I should call the police and let them handle this matter."
Fiers stiffened, raising his hands slightly in a mock gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright," he muttered, his gaze still sweeping the room. "Doesn't look like anyone else is here. I'll leave you to your supper," he sneered.
Alfred moved to close the door once again, but Fiers was quick—his foot jammed the door open a second time. "If you do happen to see them," he said, flicking a business card against Alfred's chest, "give me a call."
With a scoff, Alfred kicked the man's foot away and finally slammed the door shut.
Through a nearby window, he watched as Fiers circled the manor, peering into windows before effortlessly scaling the iron gate to leave the premises. Alfred's brow furrowed. The ease with which he maneuvered the gate suggested extensive military training. "I keep telling Master Wayne we need to make that thing electric," he muttered.
The moment Fiers was out of sight, Alfred swiftly descended to the hidden bunker beneath the study. Richard and Mary, sensing urgency, turned to him as he entered.
"Someone came looking for you," Alfred informed them grimly. "A man in a gray, three-piece suit. Called himself Karl Fiers, CIA."
Mary's breath hitched. She visibly paled. "Gray three-piece suit?" she whispered, trembling. "That's him. The hitman working for Osborn. The one sent to kill us."
Richard clenched his fists. "How did he find us?"
"He didn't say," Alfred replied. "Perhaps someone followed you without your knowledge."
Before they could process the revelation, Thomas and Martha Wayne entered the bunker. Thomas immediately noticed the distress on Mary's face.
"What's going on?" he asked, concern deepening his features.
Mary could no longer contain her emotions. The overwhelming stress of life on the run had finally taken its toll. Tears streamed down her face as she broke down. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "We never should have involved you in this."
Martha rushed to her side, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You haven't done anything wrong," she reassured her. "Now, please—tell us what happened."
Richard spoke up. "The man who tried to kill us just showed up at your doorstep. He found us."
"And that's not all," Alfred added. "He seemed to suspect that Mary might be pregnant."
"What?" Richard blurted, his voice laced with disbelief. "How?"
"He didn't say."
Mary's hands trembled as she covered her face. "What do we do now?" she whispered.
Thomas straightened, his mind already formulating a plan. "I own a private plane. I can have the three of you on it tonight."
"Where would we go?"
"There's a remote island near Point Hope, Alaska. Isolated. No one would ever find you. The only way on or off is by boat or plane."
Mary frowned, clutching Richard's arm. "What kind of life would that be for Peter?" she asked softly. "We can't keep running forever. They'll find us eventually."
Richard pulled her into an embrace. "We'll figure it out," he assured her.
Mary looked up at him, her expression etched with sorrow. "We can't bring him with us," she murmured.
Richard's heart clenched. "What?"
She turned to Thomas and Martha, her eyes pleading. "Fiers doesn't know I've given birth yet. If we leave Peter here, he'll be safe. Just for a little while—until we know it's safe to come back."
Martha hesitated, uncertainty flashing across her face. "I don't know…"
"Please," Mary begged. "Just for a little while. Then we'll come back for him."
Martha turned to Thomas, searching his face for an answer. He exhaled, rubbing his temple, before offering a slight shrug.
Mary took his silence as agreement. "It's settled," she declared. "Call your pilot. We leave tonight."