Between Enemies and Friends - Cashmire (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

In Peter’s defense, it wasn’t like he exactly planned this.

To be fair, he hadn’t exactly planned any of this, but that didn’t mean he was at fault! Really, if anyone was to blame it was the alien dude who decided to attack New York City.

Peter did have a tendency to run headfirst into problems without a plan or backup. That’s what had happened. He’d been helping a little old lady who’d slipped and fallen when his Peter tingle went off. He’d looked up to see the sky above him bubble and froth before splitting like an overripe cherry. Out of the tear in the suddenly too-dark sky came a ship. It was black with what seemed to be fins propelling it. And this thing was big.

The good thing was that there didn’t seem to be many people on the ship, or at least not many people who got off the ship. It was, however, going straight for the Avengers Tower, which was very not good as there was a whole giant arc reactor under it. Not to mention all of the tech Tony had built.

It was the arc reactor they were after. Backup had arrived, primarily in the form of Doctor Strange. Whatever the aliens had done to the sky must be classifiably magic, or a big enough threat to get him involved. Especially as he didn’t know Peter at all. That still hurt. Peter didn’t know if it would ever stop hurting.

That led to where Peter was now. The fight hadn’t been going well. They were in the basem*nt, fighting above the arc reactor. It was visible through the glass under their feet. One alien, who appeared to be in charge in some fashion, had been holding some glowing round orb. Peter was now clutching it to his chest after he’d managed to grab it from the alien.

He hit hard. It seemed like he had some sort of exosuit. It was hard to tell exactly. Peter’s head hurt from several devastating blows that probably would have killed the average person. As it was, his vision was blurred and darkening. His ears felt muffled.

It also probably didn’t help that he appeared to be falling.

It was also probably a bad thing that he was falling straight for the arc reactor. Peter reached one arm up to try and shoot a web. He could barely see where he was aiming. There was a reddish blur that was probably Strange fighting with the dark, shimmering shape of the alien Peter had been fighting.

Bright yellow and orange sparks started to fly around Peter. Everything was so bright. The sparks, the blue glow of the reactor, the slightly different blue glow of the orb against his chest, it was all too bright. Peter closed his eyes as he pressed the button on his web shooter.

Then all Peter could feel was the blinding heat.

Chapter 2: Fly through the sun to reach the ground

Chapter Text

Everything was blinding in every way possible.

He didn’t know if his eyes were opened or closed. Everything was the same overly bright light blue. Even his body seemed to be filled with the same brightness. It was like standing in front of the epicenter of a supernova.

Or, really, it felt like he was the supernova. He could feel every cell, every fiber, every single particle of his body. And all of those particles felt like they were burning.

It was more than just burning. He’d been electrocuted before. Working with mechanics meant that would happen. There was an underlying feeling of electrocution across his entire body with voltages and amps higher than anything previously recorded. Each cell screamed with enough energy to power the country many times over.

But it wasn’t just electrocution. He felt like he was being pulled apart. Each molecule felt like it was being drawn and quartered by electricity. He could feel each piece of him, but couldn’t tell if they were where they were supposed to be. He didn’t feel whole. He didn’t know if he was screaming, or if he had a mouth to scream with. Even if he did, he didn’t know if he had ears to hear it with. He couldn’t tell if everything was too loud with every sound in the history of the universe sounding at once, or too suffocating with the absolute absence of anything to hear.

His body seemed to get slammed back into place, everything smashing into each other in a way that felt like he’d just gone from hyperspeed to a dead stop in less than an instant.

He didn’t realize he was screaming until his throat was raw.

Peter took several gasping breaths. His throat felt like it was on fire. Slowly he opened his eyes. It had gone from being brighter than anything imaginable to dark. But it was a natural dark.

It took Peter several moments to catch his breath and regain his senses properly. He slowly sat up, wincing, and looked around. He appeared to be sitting in a ditch. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but apparently it had been long enough to disturb the entire area very thoroughly. Leaf litter and dirt were piled up, forming a small barrier around him. He must have been thrashing about quite violently.

Peter slowly stood up to get a better look around. Trees hung overhead and it looked like the ditch was next to a road. A road was good. He could follow that. He started to climb out of the ditch when his foot hit something.

That something was a dark, round ball. It looked to be the same size as the orb he’d been carrying, but it no longer glowed. That probably wasn’t good. Or maybe it was. Peter honestly didn’t know. But it was alien and he didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands, so he picked it up.

It took some effort to get out of the ditch, but once he was on the road, he was able to see something. Through the gap in the trees over the road to his left he could see a brighter area in the sky. That was the light of a city. Hopefully New York. Peter started walking. He really hoped it was New York.

It was not New York.

Peter probably should have realized that when he woke up at night in a ditch. The fight in New York had happened in the early afternoon. He didn’t think Doctor Strange could still mess with time since the infinity stones had been destroyed. But he also didn’t know how long he had been in that ditch. Or how long it took to get there.

He didn’t recognize anything around him. But whatever part of the city this was, it wasn’t a good part of the city. He felt on edge. It seemed like every building was looking at him. It didn’t help that he was limping slightly. He shifted how he was holding the ball. It seems heavier, but that could be because Peter was getting tired.

He suddenly paused. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing straight on end. He turned, looking around. Someone was watching him. But he didn't see-

He quickly looked up in time to see a figure in a cloak descending rapidly out of the darkness. Peter took several steps back as the figure landed in front of him.

They stood up in a way which was very intimidating. Though the fact that they were only about as tall as Peter lessened the effect. Though his costume did make up for that.

Aside from the large, black cape (the voice of Edna Mode went through his head), he had a black cowl connected to it covering the top half of his face. The suit looked to be made of something like Kevlar in black and red. He also had on a utility belt and yellow straps crossing his chest.

“What are you doing?” he asked, demanded rather. He sounded like a teenager, but he had a commanding voice. He'd done this before. Obviously.

“Walking,” Peter replied. He had not relaxed from where he'd moved away from him. He kept the ball close to his body. “Who are you?”

“I'd ask you the same thing.” His hand moved, grabbing something out of his utility belt. Must be a weapon of some sort. Not good. Peter shifted his stance slightly, which the other seemed to notice.

“I asked first so why don’t you answer first and then I’ll answer you.”

He looked at Peter before answering. “Red Robin. Your turn.”

“Like the fast food chain?”

“What?”

“They sell burgers. Not as good as Five Guys of course. Five Guys is the best burger place.”

“Why don’t you cut the chit-chat and tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.” He did something with the thing in his hand and it expanded into a staff.

“Woah, that’s cool. How solid is that? I know I’ve heard things about collapsible staffs not being super strong due to being thin metal, mostly aluminum. What’s yours made out of?”

“Answer the question!” He moved towards him, swinging his staff at Peter.

Peter jumped back, which hurt, but less than getting hit would have. He could feel the staff swing just past his shoulder, hissing through the air. Red Robin moved towards him quickly. He obviously knew how to fight. Peter wasn’t as fast as normal because of his injuries, not to mention that he was holding a heavy ball.

He doubted Red Robin was as good at fighting on vertical surfaces. He ducked out of the way from Red Robin’s next swing and shot a web at the nearest building. He pulled himself up onto the side of the building, holding on with the hand not holding the ball.

“What the- how are you doing that?” Red Robin asked, looking up at him confused.

“I’m Spider-man.”

“Spider-man?” Peter nodded. “Who do you work for? Lex Luther?”

“Who?”

“LexCorp. Did they hire you?”

“Bold of you to assume I get paid.”

Red Robin did a small head motion that basically meant ‘fair enough’ before looking back up at Peter. “If LexCorp didn’t hire you, what are you doing here and why do you have that.” He had an interesting emphasis on the word ‘that’.

“Long story. Kinda stole this from an alien.”

“What?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Anyways, I need to get back to New York. Where am I?”

“You’re from New York and don’t know where you are?”

“...Yeah?”

Red Robin leaned on his staff, looking amused. “You’re in Gotham, New Jersey.”

“What? But that doesn’t make any sense.” Peter let go with his hand, only hanging on with his feet, and webbed the ball to his chest, leaving both hands free to swing himself up to the top of the building.

“Hey!” He heard Red Robin call from below him. He ignored him, getting to the top of the building as fast as he could. The metal ball was seriously throwing off his swings, so he nearly smacked into a gargoyle on his way up. But he managed to make it up in one piece and landed to squat on the top of the building, looking out over a foreign skyline in a place that should be somewhat familiar. His chest felt tight, both from the webbing pulling at his suit and from the panic forming a tight ball around his heart.

His tingle rose sharply as something metal tinged off of the stone and concrete behind him. He turned quickly, nearly falling, to see Red Robin grapple his way up onto the roof. Peter moved one foot backwards, stopping when he felt nothing but air under his heel. Red Robin sucked in a sharp breath and froze, one hand out like he was trying to calm a wild animal.

“Why don’t you step away from the edge and set down the ball.”

“I’d rather not,” Peter said. He didn’t trust him.

“I can’t let you keep that.”

“You don’t even know what it is!”

Red Robin looked at him. “Do you?”

Peter paused. “Uh, no. Not really. Was kinda in a fight and didn’t have time to look at it. And I haven’t had good light or tools since.”

“You-” He cut himself off as something exploded to the east of them. Peter took the moment of him looking away to launch himself off the building, swinging away. “Hey!”

He heard the sound of the grappling hook behind him but didn’t stop or slow down. He also had the advantage of two hands which could propel him forward, though Red Robin had the home-field advantage. After a few blocks, it sounded like he’d lost him, or Red Robin was needed more urgently at whatever blew up.

Part of Peter wanted to go try and help, but he couldn’t. Not now. He needed to get somewhere safe, lay low, and figure out what exactly he had webbed to his chest.

He also needed to figure out where he was and how to get home. And probably get a change of clothes. Can’t go around as Spider-man all day.

Peter landed on a roof and looked around, using one arm to cradle the ball. He needed somewhere to stay. But he didn’t have any money because his wallet was back in his apartment in New York. Ok. So, he was homeless for the night. He could work with that. Just needed to find shelter and maybe find some clothes.

The obvious place to look would be a homeless shelter or somewhere like the Salvation Army. However, that would require him to go in person. Probably wouldn’t be the best idea considering it could give people a way to figure out his identity, and he didn’t know what people’s opinions were on Spider-man here. He ran a hand down his face and sighed. He might have to steal something.

He didn’t want it to be associated with Spider-man. It would give J. Jonah Jameson more fuel to the “hate Spider-man, he’s a murderer” fire. But, if he turned the suit inside out and avoided acting like Spider-man when he did, that might work. Just needed to find a place first.

He swung around for a while, looking for anywhere that could be a good place to look for clothes. There were a lot of stores he didn’t recognize, but there was one he did: Walmart.

Walmart should work. It was a large corporation and would probably have something in the dumpster that would work. Something that got stained or was returned or had a tear. At least he hoped so. And it wouldn’t be impacting anyone personally. And the rich could suck it.

Well, most of them at least. Mr. Stark had been pretty good. He did philanthropy and was Iron Man. Pepper Potts was good too. But Jeffrey Bezos, not so much. Peter was a member of Gen-Z and, even though murder was bad, he wouldn’t exactly stop it if the rest of his generation took “eat the rich” to heart.

He stopped a few buildings away and turned his suit inside out before walking up to the Walmart dumpster. This meant that he had to leave the mystery alien orb, but Peter was hoping it would be too heavy for anyone to move before he got back to it. A few minutes of rummaging later and he’d managed to find a few shirts that mostly fit, a sweatshirt, some jeans, and a couple pairs of socks. It took a little longer to find some shoes that fit ok enough. One was missing laces, but he was able to find some that would work. It wasn’t the best, but it was something. And it would have gone to a landfill anyways. He smiled slightly under his mask and shoved everything into a ripped duffle bag.

He was right about no one moving his ball. It looked like the area hadn’t even been disturbed at all. That was good. Peter quickly got out of his suit, shoving it into the bottom of the duffle bag. He threw on some of the clothes he’d found, shoving the rest into the bag. Then he looked at his ball that was still sitting on the ground. He reached down to pick it up. It was heavy, really heavy. Hard to estimate the true weight with no equipment, but it was probably heavier than the duffle could carry. He couldn’t risk it ripping with his suit in there.

That meant Peter was just going to have to carry it until he found somewhere safe. At least, safe-ish. He was homeless currently. Nowhere would be truly safe, especially not in a city that felt like it would try and eat him alive. A wind blew down the alley, sending a chill up Peter’s spine. He needed to find some shelter. He shifted the ball into one arm and slung the duffle over his shoulder, adjusting it to try and hide the metal ball. Peter trudged down the alley, walking in a random direction. Hopefully, there would be something useful this way.

Chapter 3: New beginnings with a new dawn

Chapter Text

Tim huffed heavily. His brothers were starting to grate his nerves a bit.

“Are we sure he’s not working for LexCorp? Does LexCorp even have the technology to allow someone to stick to sheer glass? We can’t even do that!” Nightwing was walking around, gesturing wildly as he talked. Tim could just see Dick’s reflection in one of the screens of the batcomputer.

“We should inform Father about this.”

“What’s he going to do? He’s in Milan on business and maintaining his playboy reputation. Besides, it’s just some kid in spandex. Not a whole army. We’ve got this.”

“He is unknown and obviously has ulterior motives,” Damian said, sounding annoyed in a way only Damian could. “Drake should not have let him get away.”

Tim stopped typing to spin around in his chair to face the other two. “I didn’t let him get away! I was trying to stop him but got distracted because someone blew up a warehouse!”

“The situation was handled,” Damian grumbled, crossing his arms.

Dick sighted. “It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt.” He looked at Tim. “Have you found anything?”

Tim sighed, turning back to the batcomputer. “No. I’ve gone through half of the files on the LexCorp database and have a script running. So far I’m not finding anything on a Spiderman there. I’m also going through Lex Luther’s personal files, more delicately because that man has firewalls and digital booby traps like there is no tomorrow, with still no luck. If Spiderman is working for him, Lex is keeping that very tightly under wraps.” He spun around slowly for dramatic effect, and also so he could look at the others. Of which there were now three.

“Perhaps, if you are concerned that this Spiderman may be an associate or employed by Lex Luther, you should contact the resident expert on him,” Alfred said calmly while handing Damian a cup of tea.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea. We can call Uncle Clark!” Dick grinned.

“You want to bring Superman into this while Father is away? You know his rule about metas in Gotham.”

“We don’t have to bring him into Gotham. We can just ask him if he knows anything,” Tim said, nodding.

“I doubt Master Bruce would be bothered by his children reaching out for expert opinions,” Alfred said, handing Tim some tea. Tim hadn’t even noticed that Dick had been given a cup.

Tim nodded, drinking some of his tea. “Yeah. I’ll call him.” He turned to set his cup down and head for the batphone.

“Might I suggest waiting until morning? I do believe Master Kent tends to keep what some may call a normal sleep schedule.”

“Oh, right.” Tim sat back down and looked at the computer. “I’ll call him in a couple hours.”

“An excellent idea Master Tim.”

Clark Kent was not expecting a call from the Justice League phone first thing in the morning. He rushed at superhuman speed out of bed to get to the phone, picking up before the end of the first ring. If one of them was calling, it had to be something serious.

“What’s happening?”

“Good morning. This is Red Robin. I was wondering if Lex Luthor had done anything recently involving wall-climbing abilities or someone going by the name Spiderman.”

Clark was silent for a long moment before he responded. “What?”

“There’s someone in Gotham who is going by the name of Spiderman who can stick to a window on the side of a building. He seems to have some pretty advanced tech, especially if he can do that, and I wanted to see if he may have come from Metropolis. He’s not from Gotham.”

Clark sighed heavily. “Tim, did you call me at 6:30 in the morning to ask me about Lex Luthor?”

“Technically I’m asking about Spiderman.”

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I have a meeting later.”

“Of course.” He sighed. “I don’t know anything about a Spiderman, but I will let you know if I do.”

“Thank you. One other question. You don’t happen to be missing a metal ball?”

“What?”

“Spiderman had this metal ball that he said he stole from an alien.”

“It wasn’t from me. I can ask J’onn.”

“Thanks again, Uncle Clark.”

“And Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“Call a little later next time.”

This part of the city had more than what Peter would consider the standard number of half-destroyed abandoned buildings. Luckily for him, a good number were structurally stable. Less luckily for him, almost all of them were occupied by other homeless people who gave off a lot of dangerous vibes.

By the time the sun was starting to come up, Peter was tired. Everything hurt. The ball seemed even heavier than before. All Peter wanted to do was lay down and sleep. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking, or how far he’d gone, but he could feel every step.

Peter turned a corner and paused, looking at an old building that looked like it had once been a theater. The front overhang where the latest showing would be displayed was half gone. All the windows on the first and second floors were boarded up. And not just with plywood, there was metal over the windows. It seemed like a lot of work to keep people out. However, it didn’t extend to windows on the third floor.

A small, weary smile crept onto Peter’s face. This could work. He walked around the building. There was graffiti on the outside in several places, but one wall seemed to have more than most. Peter stopped, looking at it. Under graffiti tags and spray-painted flowers were what appeared to be names. He couldn’t quite make them out but one of them looked like it might be Thomas.

“Must be a memorial,” he muttered. He glanced around again. Everything seemed solidly boarded up. He took a deep breath and hoped he had basically the only way in. Up the wall he went.

Climbing was so much easier without the metal ball. He was having to climb using only three limbs, having to brace his left arm on the wall every time he wanted to move his left foot. Moving his hand made him feel like he would fall. It caused a lot of jostling and hurt. It was also slow. Climbing up to the unboarded third-story window seemed to take an eternity.

Getting in presented another challenge. He quickly moved his hand from the wall to the window and pushed up. It didn’t budge. Panic gripped his chest. It had to be locked. Not good. Very not good. He needed to get in. The longer he hung onto the outside of the building, the more likely someone would see him, especially now that dawn had hit. He shifted, trying to look for the lock. He had to climb a bit higher to find it, but there it was. It was an old lock, one he could probably have jimmied open if he had a knife. But he didn’t have that. sh*t.

Suddenly, Peter got an idea.

This building probably had some sort of roof access. If he could climb to the top of the building, he could probably get in through there. And he’d have both hands available as he could set the ball down on the roof. Peter smiled, suddenly renewed with energy. He pushed towards the top of the building, continuing his climb.

He was thoroughly tired by the time he got there. He climbed up over the lip of the roof and rolled onto his back, letting the metal ball rest next to him. He closed his eyes, breathing evenly, in and out. He could feel the cool morning air, carrying the moisture of morning dew, in his lungs.

Peter lay there for a few minutes, long enough for the light to fully transition from the dim twilight of dawn to full morning light. He sat up, wincing at the sore pain that shot through him at that motion. He looked around the roof. It looked like he was right about the roof access. About ten feet from him was a rectangle of brick with a metal door in it.

He smiled, standing up and walking over. The door looked like it had a lock. Could be a problem. Peter tried the door. It was indeed locked. He frowned and looked around, thinking. He didn’t want to climb back down, and this would be easier to get into and out of the building than a window. He wanted this door open. He could always keep it shut from the inside with webs.

Problem was, the door opened outward. It would’ve been easier if he could have shouldered the door open, but he was going to have to pull it. Good thing that Peter was superhumanly strong. He took a deep breath and grabbed the nob, bracing his other hand on the brick next to the door frame. He shifted his feet a little and took another couple deep breaths before yanking.

He nearly ripped the door off its hinges. He’d apparently overestimated the strength of the lock. But at least he was in.

Inside was a small landing with a ladder leading down into the darkness. Peter took a deep breath and went back to grab the ball and his duffle from where they’d been left by the edge of the building. He picked them up and headed in, closing the door behind him and webbing it shut.

It was pitch black once the door closed. The only light was the tiniest slivers coming from the edge of the doorframe, cutting through the dark like knives. Peter fumbled into his bag until he felt the familiar shape of the eyes on his mask. He smiled and pulled it out. It took a moment to get it on with one hand, but he managed. A moment later, he had night vision. Peter smiled and began to carefully make his way down the ladder.

The bottom of the ladder was on a stairwell. There was a door heading off of the landing. Peter walked over and tested the door. It swung open with only a little resistance from disused hinges.

He had to quickly pull his mask off as the light coming in through the windows was too bright with the night vision goggles. After blinking for a moment, the room came into focus.

It appeared that this floor had been used primarily as storage for the theater. There were dilapidated stage pieces, moth-eaten costumes, and dust-covered props strewn about. Peter slowly walked through, looking around. There could be some costume pieces here that were good enough for Peter to use. Some of the set pieces and stage equipment might be useful. Peter might be able to cannibalize it to make new things, or fix his suit if need be. Plus, there was also just a lot of cool stuff up here. Even if it had seen better days.

There was also dust everywhere. Peter wasn’t sure how long it had been since another person had been here. But it didn’t look like it was a health hazard, which was good. He just might be coughing and sneezing a bit with all the dust.

He did want to check to see if there were any signs of disturbance downstairs. He finished clearing the third floor, checking in a couple closets and what looked to have once been offices. None of them really had anything spectacular in them. Then he made his way back to the stairwell. He propped the door open with a piece of wood so light was entering the stairwell before heading down.

The door to the second floor was also easily opened. Beyond it was deep blackness. He fished his mask back out and shoved it on, waiting for his eyes to adjust before walking out. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t just black from lack of light, the room itself was dark. It wasn’t a very large room, painted black. Some old cables and equipment were sitting off to one side. He made note of them.

The room was longer in one direction with two doors along one of the long walls and a door on each of the short walls. He picked one at random and opened it.

It was one of the doors on the long wall. Outside the door was a metal bridge leading above a black abyss. This must be a catwalk. Peter decided to set the ball down before walking out. He didn’t know how much weight they could hold. Especially since they creaked heavily as he walked.

The old stage lights were still attached. That was cool. He trailed his hand over the railing and looked down. He could just make out the vague shapes of the seating and stage below him. It looked like the other doors also lead to catwalks. He headed back, picking the ball back up before making his way to the first floor.

The stairs he’d been taking lead to backstage. There were props and set pieces here too. The air down here was also heavy and musty. He could smell the curtains. Which could actually be useful. If he found a curtain he could use it as a blanket. The curtains at the front of the stage were closed, so Peter pushed them aside to move onstage.

He stepped onto the stage and looked out into the theater. It was dark but looked like it may have been nice back in the day. He jumped down and walked up the aisle, letting his fingers on his free hand brush across the tops of the seats. The fabric had a heavy texture to it. He made his way up the stairs in the back and headed through the double doors into the lobby. It was still dark, but it was brighter in her. There was light shining through small cracks in the boards over the windows.

It was a very nice lobby. Plush carpet, crystal chandelier. In the higher light levels, he could see his footprints in the dust. This theater was very well and truly abandoned. He should be safe here. That was good because he was so tired. Peter took a deep breath and decided to head back upstairs.

Once he was back on the third floor, Peter found himself a quiet little corner away from windows to lie down. He dropped his bag and lay the ball down before laying down himself. He used the duffle bag as a pillow and closed his eyes. It didn’t take him very long to fall asleep.

Chapter 4: Gaining friends through good broth

Chapter Text

When Peter woke up again, it was still bright out. He was also very hungry. He needed food. He sat up, groaning a little at his stiff muscles. The movement caused dust to be kicked up around him. Peter coughed as he breathed it in. He’d need to get a broom or something and clean this place up if he was going to be staying here.

He got up and stretched, getting a few good pops out of his back. First order of business was to find some food. Then he needed to figure out where he was and get in contact with Doctor Strange somehow. Maybe he could find his phone number online. He did have a phone, didn’t he? He had to. He used to be a surgeon.

Peter made his way to the stairwell and climbed up the ladder. He needed to keep this door closed somehow so other people wouldn’t find his things. He could always just web it closed. That could work, especially if he used one of his stronger and long-lasting variations. He made it onto the landing and felt for the doorknob in the dark. His hand eventually found the cool metal and then turned it, opening the door out into the bright afternoon sun.

He closed the door behind him, webbing it securely closed. That should work. Peter made his way to the edge of the building and glanced down to make sure there wasn’t anyone in the alley before climbing down. He landed with a soft thump on the pavement.

Alright, strange city which might be only a few hours away max from home. If it was anything like New York, there should be somewhere like F.E.A.S.T. where he could get food. He just needed to find it. The best way to do that was probably just wander. Wander and hope to find something soon.

So that’s what he did. Peter wandered.

This part of the city was dirty and dangerous, but not in the same way that New York was. The air had a sharp chemical tinge to it. The homeless had sharper looks in their eyes, and almost certainly were armed. Even the normal people had a roughness to them. Some carried a sharp smell with them and caused his sense to spike.

The whole place screamed of danger.

Peter was very grateful when he saw a sign above a doorway that read “Martha Wayne Foundation Soup Kitchen”. He smiled. That looked exactly like what he needed. He crossed the street and walked in, looking around.

The place was crowded. All sorts of people were in here eating from what looked like gang bangers to off-duty sex workers to regular homeless people. He quietly made his way to the counter, getting into line behind a large man in a leather jacket. Peter gave him some space as he was setting off his Peter tingle more than anyone else in this room.

The line was slowly but steadily progressing forward. More people filled in behind Peter. He shuffled nervously on his feet, his fingers running over his web shooters in a reassuring motion.

The door opened and Peter felt the hair on his spine stand sharply on end.

“You have some f*cking nerve showing your face around here asshole!”

Peter, along with a good number of other people, turned to see who had spoken. There was a man standing in the doorway who looked angry. The man in line behind Peter tensed angrily.

“I can do whatever the f*ck I like!” He shouted back.

“Like steal my girl and take my money? The hell you can.” The man stormed over and got in the other guy’s face.

Peter could tell this was going to break into a fight soon. That was bad. If he was Spider-man, he could easily stop them, web them each to a wall, and make them talk it out. But he was just Peter. But that didn’t mean he could just stand there and do nothing. “Hey, guys. Why don’t you talk it out like civilized people.” The two of them looked at him.

“What did you say, punk?”

A heavy hand grabbed Peter’s shoulder. “I believe he said that you shouldn’t fight in the soup kitchen,” A voice behind him spoke. “After all, this is neutral ground. Both of your bosses agreed to it. And you know what happens if you fight in here. So, if you’ve got beef, take it outside. Or I’ll take you out. Got it?” His tone was threatening. It did not reassure Peter as his hand was still on his shoulder.

The two guys were looking at the person behind Peter, glaring with looks that could curdle butter.

“Or you could just get something to eat and talk it out. I always think better on a full stomach.”

The guy who’d walked in scoffed. He looked at the other man and poked him in the chest. “Imma find you and we’ll settle this later.” He shot another glare at Peter and the guy behind him before storming out.

Slowly the soup kitchen returned to normal. The man let go of Peter’s shoulder and Peter turned back around to face him.

“You really didn’t need to try and get involved.” His tone was not as gruff as it had been, more of a normal tone. The sleeves of his leather jacket were rolled halfway up his forearms. He had a black shirt on underneath. He had muscles to back up the threats he had made earlier. And Peter could see the raised lines of scars on his exposed forearms, and a few fainter ones on his face. He had a very sharp jawline and black hair, except for a streak of white sticking out from the middle of his forehead.

Peter shrugged. “I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

The man chuckled a bit, shaking his head. The line moved forward and as they moved forward, he moved to be standing almost next to Peter. “You very much so could have. That’s what everyone else was going to do.”

Peter knew he was right. No one else had moved to intervene. Except Peter and the man he was now talking to. “You didn’t.”

He shrugged, smiling a lopsided smile. “Yeah, but I’m also mostly here to make sure this place stays neutral. There’s a truce, and I’m helping make sure people stick to it.”

Peter nodded. “So, are you a cop?” He didn’t think so, and the man let out a hearty guffaw confirmed it.

“Hell no.” He chuckled a bit, shaking his head in amusem*nt at the idea. “No, I’m more effective than them.”

Peter nodded. “Ok.” They were just about at the counter.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Peter.”

“Jason.” He held out a hand and Peter shook it. He had a strong grip. “You’re not from around here are you, Peter.”

“Can you tell?”

“Your accent gives it away.” He looked at the lady as they got to the counter. “How’s it going, Julia? Any trouble lately?”

“Hi, Jay. Nothing too bad. Had a couple fights but nothing out of the ordinary. They were only scuffles really.”

Jason looked at her, sighing. “Come on Julia.”

“They were kids Jay. You know I would tell you if there was a serious issue.”

He sighed. “Yeah. That potato soup?” He asked, leaning over a little.

Julia smiled, ladling some into a bowl for him. “Yup. Loaded potato soup. It’s got some ham in it. And we’ve got some fresh bread and fruit.”

Jason smiled. “Sounds good.”

“Hello. You have any allergies?”

Peter looked up at the kid working in the soup kitchen who had spoken to him. He looked a little younger than Peter. Peter shook his head. “No. Everything looks great.”

He nodded. “Alright.” He started portioning out food for Peter. He watched, his stomach growling loudly. Peter walked down the line as the kid put the food on a tray for him. Jason appeared to be waiting with his tray still talking with Julia at the end of the counter. The kid passed him his tray and he took it gratefully, his stomach growling again.

“Thank you.”

The kid just nodded and went to go help someone else.

Jason looked down at Peter. “Why don’t you sit with me. I’ll give you some tips on surviving Gotham.”

Peter smiled. For being scary and intimidating, and undoubtedly dangerous, Jason didn’t seem so bad. He nodded. “Ok. Thanks.”

Jason smiled and headed towards some empty seats at a table. “No problem, kid. This place will eat you alive if you don’t know what you’re doing.” Jason sat and Peter sat down in the empty seat across from him. “You been on the streets long?”

Peter shook his head. “No. Only ended up here last night.” Peter’s stomach rumbled as he picked up his spoon. The soup was absolutely delicious. He wasn’t sure exactly how long had passed since his last meal, but it had been lunch of what to him seemed like yesterday.

Jason nodded, watching as Peter practically inhaled the soup. “From New York?” Peter just nodded in response. “What brings you to Gotham.”

That got Peter to pause. He swallowed, thinking. He honestly didn’t know how to answer that question, partly because he didn’t know what had brought him to Gotham. He didn’t think saying he fell into an arc reactor while holding a mysterious, alien, glowing ball would be much help either. Probably just make him sound mentally insane. It didn’t help that he had no actual clue where Gotham was.

“Long story,” he said after way too long thinking about it.

Jason nodded slowly, eating some of his soup. “Alright. So, why are you in Gotham?”

“…also a long story.”

“Right…” Jason looked at him. “Well, are you planning on staying here?”

“I need to contact someone back home. I just don’t have a way to right now.” Peter ate some more soup.

“You need a phone?”

Peter nodded, finishing his bite. “Yeah. And I need to look up his phone number.”

“I might be able to help you. I’ve got a friend who can probably find his number if you have some information like his name.”

Peter smiled. That could work. If he could contact Doctor Strange, he should be able to come get Peter and the weird orb thing. “That would be great. Thanks.”

Jason nodded, eating some more. “Sure thing.”

They ate in silence for a bit, which Peter appreciated as he was very hungry. He quickly finished the soup, using some of the bread to soak up the excess left in the bowl.

“When did you last eat?”

“Hu?” Peter paused, looking up at him.

“When was the last time you ate?” Jason asked, a little more insistently.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I don’t know. Probably yesterday at lunch.”

Jason looked concerned. He picked up his orange and set it on Peter’s plate. Peter started to protest but he cut him off. “You are going to eat that orange. Got it?” That was a demanding tone.

Considering that Peter really did need the extra food, he caved pretty easily. “Ok. Thanks again.”

Jason nodded and went back to his soup. Peter finished his bread and started eating the two oranges on his tray. They were good. He could see Jason watching him as he ate his bread. Peter offered him a slice of orange.

Jason quirked a lopsided smile, accepting. “Thanks.”

Peter nodded. “No problem.”

They ate the rest in silence. That was fine with Peter. It didn’t take him too long to finish both oranges. Jason finished his food first and waited for Peter to finish before standing up. “Dish return is this way.”

Peter nodded and followed Jason to drop their tray off in a window leading to the kitchen.

Jason leaned in and looked at the people working, thumping on the wall a couple of times. “Keep up the good work!” One jumped but most of them smiled and waved back. Jason smiled and turned to look at Peter. “Come on, let’s go get you in contact with that person of yours.”

Peter nodded and followed Jason out the door. They two walked down the street going somewhere, Peter wasn’t sure where. Jason pulled out his phone and started texting someone.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“He’s not really a friend. More of an acquaintance. We’ve worked together a couple times.”

“I just need his name.” He glanced at the phone, “And maybe an address.”

“His name’s Doctor Stephen Strange. His place is this really cool sanctum. 177a Bleeker Street. It’s in Manhattan.”

Jason looked a little confused at the mention of the sanctum, but Peter figured that was fair. Not everyone knew about the sanctum. He probably wasn’t supposed to. He watched as Jason typed it into his phone. “Alright. Just need to give Babs a minute to find your guy and we’ll be golden.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks again for your help.”

“No problem. I know what it’s like living on the streets here. You have somewhere safe to stay?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I found somewhere that should be safe.”

“Good. You’re not getting involved with any gangs, are you?” He sounded very serious.

“What? No.”

“Good. Stay away from them. Got it?”

Peter nodded. “I will. I wasn’t planning on joining one anyways.”

Jason nodded. “Smart. You get involved with the wrong thing, you’ll have Batman taking out your knees and you’ll be in the hospital for 2 weeks.”

“Batman?”

Jason looked at Peter confused before turning to look back at his phone. His confusion grew. “Hey Peter, are you sure you got that information right?”

“Yeah. Why?” He could feel unease growing in his stomach.

“Because Babs couldn’t find anything on him. Either your guy is completely off the grid, or he doesn’t exist.”

Chapter 5: On track to new discoveries

Chapter Text

“That doesn’t make any sense. He’s a doctor. He was a surgeon, I think. I found his LinkedIn profile on accident once!” Peter ran his hands through his hair. “You’re sure there’s nothing?”

“I’ll ask her to check again, but nothing came up.”

Peter started pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. He could just see Jason watching him worriedly. “This can’t be happening. Did he do something to wipe himself from the internet? He wouldn’t do that. Would he? No. I don’t think so.”

Jason’s phone rang and he answered it. “Babs, you’re on speaker.”

“Ok. Your friend there?”

“Yeah, he is. Peter, say hi.”

“Hi. Are you sure you can’t find anything?”

“I tried looking up Doctor Stephen Strange. There are a number of people named Stephen Strange, but none of them appear to be doctors. And none of them live in New York City.”

“That can’t be right. Are you sure that’s right?”

“I’m positive.”

“Ok. So maybe he scrubbed himself from the internet. He can’t have gotten all of it.” Peter started pacing again. He needed to think of something. There had to be some way to get in contact with Strange. He was the Sorcerer Supreme. Or, well, he had been prior to dying in the blip. Technically Wong was the Sorcerer Supreme. Not that Strange actually acted like it.

A hand grabbed Peter’s shoulder and pulled him back. Peter startled and jumped away, or at least tried to. Jason had a very strong grip. “Look at me, Peter. Look, I know this isn’t ideal, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get home. Got it?”

Peter took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. Got it. Sorry.”

He nodded. “You’re not going to do something rash, right?”

“No,” said Peter like he wasn’t about to do something rash that night as soon as he got his suit on.

Jason didn’t seem to fully believe him. “Ok,” he sighed. “Let me know if you find anything.”

“Sure thing. Take care, Peter.”

Peter nodded. “Ok. Thanks for looking.”

Jason hung up the phone and looked at Peter. “You going to be ok, kid?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just got to figure out a new plan.” He thought for a moment before getting an idea. “Can you tell me where the library is?”

“Yeah. It’s downtown. You can take the blue line-”

“Thanks for your help!” Peter said, waving and turning to leave. He jogged down the street until he found a subway station. Perfect. He hurried down the stairs, jumping the turnstile since he didn’t have a pass or money to buy one.

He joined the flow of people heading down to the trains. The air down here was stuffy. There was some sort of metallic tinge to the air that he couldn’t quite place. Not to mention, it was old.

The ceiling had those decorative cement tiles where it was a geometric pattern and not just a plain square or a circle. The columns had some Romanesque elements to them with decorations at the top. The tile floors looked like they’d once been nice.

The problem was any glamor or glory this station had was long gone. The ceilings appeared to be blackened with soot. The tiles were worn and stained. The columns were cracked and chipped. Made Peter wonder about the structural integrity of the tunnel.

He waited by a signboard, looking at it. He found a stop which he guessed would put him close to the library. He hoped. Peter looked up at the digital sign board. It looked like the new train heading downtown would be in the station in 3 minutes.

He sat on an open bench to wait. More people filtered into the station. Peter was only half paying attention, his mind lost in thought trying to figure out why Doctor Strange didn’t seem to exist and he seemed to be in a city that he’d never heard of before.

“This seat free?”

Peter was startled out of his thoughts, looking up at a man with shiny black hair, vibrant blue eyes, and a kind smile. “What? Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s alright. Is anyone sitting here?”

“Oh, no. Go ahead.” Peter scooted over.

“Thanks.” The man sat down, next to Peter, leaving some space between them. A teen who looked about Peter’s age, if not a year or two younger, sat next to him with a young boy with more tanned skin sitting on the other side of the man. Peter glanced up at the board. 2 minutes.

“I still don’t understand why we have to do it,” the kid complained.

“Because Bruce is out of town, as you keep reminding us,” the teen explained.

“Indeed. But this matter could simply be handled by you or Grayson. I do not see why I need to be involved in your mess.”

“Hey! This isn’t my mess!”

The kid tsked. Peter could see him fold his arms and huff back into the seat. The man sighed.

“Look, while Bruce is out, we all have to handle things. Got it?”

“If that is the case, then why isn’t Todd here?”

“Do you want him here?” the man, who Peter assumed was Grayson, asked, sounding amused. The kid just grumbled in response, getting a chuckle out of the teen. “Besides, he’s busy dealing with his own stuff.”

“Babs said she called him earlier.” Peter paused, brow furrowing at the teen’s words. Babs. That name sounded familiar.

“Really? What about?”

The trio stopped talking as the train pulled into the station. Peter got up, as did the other three. Seemed they were getting on the same train. Maybe he could listen in on their conversation a little more. Once the train stopped, Peter walked on just after the trio. He sat down in an empty seat a couple of rows up from them.

He could hear Grayson start to talk as the train started moving again. “So, what were you saying about Jason, Tim?”

Jason? Hold on, wasn’t that the name of the guy that Peter ran into at the soup kitchen?

“He found some lost kid from New York who was looking for some doctor who doesn’t exist. Apparently, the kid was very distressed.”

“Did the doctor have a name?” the kid asked.

“I think it was Strange. Like his name was literally Strange, not just that he had a weird name.”

Peter felt like time was slowing down. These guys were talking about him. They knew Jason. That was why the name Babs sounded familiar, she was who Jason had called.

“He was looking for a Doctor Strange?” Grayson asked sounding skeptical.

Peter turned around in his seat to look at them. “Excuse me, what name did you just say?”

The three looked up at him, Grayson opening his mouth to say something when the train suddenly jolted.

The hairs on Peter’s arms stood on end as he stood up, looking around to see what happened. Other people were too. He noticed the lights of the tunnel were flashing by, so they were still moving. That was probably good. They hadn’t crashed.

But as he looked out the window, he noticed something. The rate at which the lights were passing the window was increasing. They were gaining speed.

Peter quickly moved to the end of the car where there was an intercom button which he assumed worked like the MTA’s. He pressed the button, bracing himself on the wall and sticking to it as the train wobbled. “Hello?” After getting no response, he waited a moment before he tried again. “Hello? Conductor? Are you there?”

There was still no response, and the train was getting faster. People were getting nervous. If he had his suit, he could slow the train down himself, but right now, he was just Peter Parker. But Peter Parker could pull the emergency brake.

He opened the compartment for the emergency brake. As he did, he could hear an alarm go off, beeping in the background. Everything seemed so very loud. He reached out, gripping the handle, and pulled.

It clicked and nothing happened. He felt the blood drain from his face. He pushed the handle up and pulled it back down again. It just clicked as it changed position.

“What’s wrong?”

Peter turned to see the teen, whose name might be Tim, standing behind him. The man Grayson seemed to be trying to calm people down while the kid seemed antsy.

“Conductor’s unresponsive and the emergency brake isn’t working.” He started thinking quickly. If he could get everyone out of the front cars, not only would they be safer from any crash, but he might be able to get out and stop the car without being seen. “I’m going to go up front and see what’s happening. The conductor may be up there.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No! It might be dangerous.”

“If the brakes are out, I might be able to fix it. Now we’re wasting time.” He pushed past Peter and headed through the doors into the next car. Peter gritted his teeth and followed.

“Most modern trains use air brakes. If the emergency brake didn’t do anything, it’s possible the lines were cut and the brakes themselves are fine.”

“But it could also be that the air pressure in the cylinder was released. That would be a lot more problematic than just a severed connection.”

“We should be able to find out in the conductor’s booth.” Peter said. People were starting to get more panicked as the two of them hurried through the cars. They were almost at the front. Peter looked around. “Head towards the back of the train as calmly as possible. Please. It’ll be safer back there.”

Tim was still heading forwards. “Go. Get out of here.”

It seemed people were more inclined to listen to him than they were Peter. Considering that Peter looked homeless and Tim looked put together, that was kinda fair. The two made their way through the next few cars, getting the riders to make their way back, mostly. A few were stubborn, but most had survival instincts. They managed to reach the control booth at the front of the train. The window leading in was blackened. Peter needed this guy out of here.

He turned, hand on the door handle, and looked at him. “You should head back. It’s not safe. I can handle this.”

“What? No way! Move, let me in.”

Peter gritted his teeth and opened the door. Hopefully, he could do this without being Spider-man. They made their way into the small compartment to see what had happened.

Peter’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the carnage in the cabin. It looked like a small bomb had gone off in the control panel, focused on the braking mechanism. Whoever did this knew at least something about engineering and trains. But the explosion, which had caused the blackening of the windows, had also killed the conductor. He was lying dead on the accelerator. It looked like a good portion of his arm got blown off and shrapnel had pierced several vital parts of his body. Peter didn’t know if whoever did this intended to kill him or not.

His companion had also paused upon entering. He took a deep breath and moved in and towards the conductor. He had a hardened look on his face like this wasn’t his first time seeing a dead body. “Come on. We have to get to work.” He moved the conductor off the accelerator and cranked it into the lowest position.

They were no longer gaining speed, but they weren’t exactly slowing down much. And Peter didn’t exactly know how much track they might have left.

“It looks like the controls are broken, but the brakes themselves might not be. Call for help. I’m going to see if I can shut them off manually.” Peter was already hopping up onto the control panel as he spoke, punching the window once he was done.

“Wait what! What do you think you’re doing?” He moved to stop him as Peter punched through the glass. He shook him off and looked at him.

“Call the police, someone, anyone, and get to a safe car. I can handle this. Go!” He had to shout to be heard over the wind suddenly rushing through the cabin. Peter crawled out the window, taking advantage of his stickiness as he did to stay on the outside.

The train was still hurtling at a faster speed than it should. Not to mention there wasn’t much room for Peter to operate. But there were wheels right near the front. And wheels meant brakes. He just needed to get to them.

He carefully lowered himself down the front of the train. The tracks rushed by below him. He took a deep breath. He needed to focus. He could do this. If he slipped and fell, not only would it likely cost him his own life, but likely the lives of others on the train.

There was just one slight problem: Peter didn’t know where on the wheels the brakes were.

He was perched very precariously on the coupling at the front of the car, leaning down to look at the wheels. It didn’t help that the underside of the train car was very dirty. It obscured everything that might have been visible.

Peter needed to stop this train. And he may not be in his suit right now, but he doubted that anyone would see if he did anything superhuman. And he did have his web shooters. Perhaps he could use webs to at least slow the train enough to find the brake.

He reached his arm under, pointing it at the wheel, and shot a short spray of webbing at it. The web caught and instantly was sucked into the wheel’s rotation. He had to cut it before it pulled him off the coupling. It didn’t help that it caused the car to jostle from the sudden unevenness. But the train did seem to be slowing. It was just going to be a very bumpy ride. He gritted his teeth and did another quick burst. The train jostled but continued to slow. He could see bits of his webbing attached to the wheel and the mechanisms. It was working.

Peter kept working, shooting short spurts of webbing into the wheel, slowing the train bit by bit. He didn’t know if it was fast enough. He shot a longer strand, bracing on what he could as it caught in the wheel and yanked his arm. He let it go as he felt like his arm was about to be pulled out of his socket.

The motion also caused him to be pulled forward, closer to the wheel and closer to falling to the ground. Which was terrifying as it meant it would be so much easier for Peter to fall and get ground into minced meat by the subway train. But it also meant that Peter now had a view of a wonderful new piece of mechanics: the brakes.

He just needed it to quickly release the pressure in order to cause the brakes to be applied. He reached under and shot a web, catching it on the steel housing of the brake. Hopefully, this would work. He pulled.

Many things happened at once. There was a sharp hiss of air and the clang of metal falling and being dragged under the train. Peter was pulled towards the train at the same time as the train rapidly decelerated, nearly throwing Peter off and straight under the wheels. The only reason he didn’t was that he was clinging on using his sticky powers for dear life. He cut it off and shifted himself back up onto the coupling.

“Get back up here!”

Peter looked up to see the teen leaning out the window, phone to his ear, looking at Peter. He pointed to the front of the train. Peter turned to look. They were still moving, much slower than before, but still moving directly towards the end of the track.

“Crap! Go!” He started getting up to stand on the coupling. The teen disappeared from the window, hopefully actually getting away from the front. Peter looked at the end. No time. They were about to crash. He pressed his back against the front of the train, waiting until they got closer.

Then he jumped.

Chapter 6: A day not according to plan

Chapter Text

Was this whole thing Tim was doing risky in the sense that it might get people to connect the dots between him and Red Robin? Yes, yes it was. But it wouldn’t matter if they all died because he didn’t do anything.

Well, the likelihood that everyone on board would die if the train crashed was very small. Most likely, deaths would be limited to the first few cars with some potential deaths in other cars from things such as smoke inhalation or possible trampling. That was assuming that this was a normal malfunction and not one of Gotham’s many villains messing with the train, in which case it could be rigged to blow sky-high on impact.

Either way, if he didn’t do something, people would die. So Red Robin or not, he had to act.

Dick and Damian seemed to be running on similar thought processes as Dick had gotten up and started trying to calm people down. Damian was twitching a little. Tim knew him well enough to know that Damian was probably waiting for someone to jump out so he could fight them.

What Tim hadn’t expected was the kid from the platform to act. Or for that kid to not take the easy out to stay safe that Tim had given him by saying he’d take care of the problem. Which was also highly inconvenient for Tim. Having this kid here meant he couldn’t act like Red Robin if need be. He couldn’t call for backup. Couldn’t get the word out so the other bats could get to the scene and clear people out or divert other trains.

But he was still Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and in charge of major tech developments for the company. He might be able to help, or at least get people out of the first few cars.

This kid, this quite possibly homeless kid based on his not-quite-fitting clothes and the slight smell of garbage, seemed to have some tech knowledge too. Maybe he would be more of a help than a hindrance.

They made their way towards the conductor’s car, getting as many people out of the cars as possible. The kid was even helping elderly and pregnant people stand up. Which was nice and all, but they were hurtling towards the end of the track and potentially another train.

Seeing the blackened conductor’s window was not reassuring. The kid put his hand on the door handle and looked back at Tim. “You should head back. It’s not safe. I can handle this.”

Tim was taken aback by that. Who did this kid think he was? He wasn’t a Robin. He shouldn’t even be here in the first place! Unless he was involved and trying to keep Tim from fixing things. Whatever the reason, Tim was not letting him go in alone. “What? No way! Move, let me in.”

The kid’s jaw tightened, and he opened the door. Though the look ln his face as he entered the room, and the way his breath caught in his throat, dispelled most notions of him being involved from Tim's brain.

Tim had seen dead bodies before. It was one of the hazards of being a Robin. It happened sometimes. And he’d caused his fair share of debilitating injuries. He’d seen gore in person before. It seemed this kid had too. Never made it easier.

The look on the kid’s face was one of sadness mixed with anger. His hands were balled at his sides.

Tim was the first one to move. Taking a deep breath, he went to move the conductor off the control panel. “Come on. We have to get to work.” He carefully moved the conductor’s body to lean against the chair instead of the controls. He tried to grab the less damaged parts of him. He still ended up with blood on his hands.

He grabbed the handle of the speed control and cranked it to the lowest possible setting. They shouldn’t be gaining speed anymore and should start slowing down. Only problem was they probably didn’t have enough track to coast to a stop. And the brake controls seem to have been blown up.

The kid walked over to stand next to Tim and look at the controls. “It looks like the controls are broken, but the brakes themselves might not be. Call for help. I’m going to see if I can shut them off manually.” The kid hopped up onto the control panel as he was talking. He punched the window at the front of the cabin, causing a few small cracks.

Tim was stunned for a moment before reaching out to grab the guy’s arm to stop him. If this kid thought he could stop a train himself, he was either crazy or stupid. And Tim was not about to just stand by and watch him get sucked under the train and die. “Wait what! What do you think you’re doing?”

He punched through the glass, which Tim was not expecting. That was probably why he was able to shake Tim off so easily. He turned to look at him, shouting over the sounds of wind rushing into the now open hole in the cabin and the rumble of the train. “Call the police, someone, anyone, and get to a safe car. I can handle this. Go!”

Before Tim could even say anything, the kid had slipped through the window and disappeared down the front of the train. Tim hurried, jumping up onto the controls and looking out.

He did not know how this guy was still alive.

This guy was somehow squatting on the coupling at the front of the train. Tim wasn’t even sure how he got on there. He watched as he leaned down to look under the train. It looked like he reached under towards something. Tim held his breath, waiting for something bad to happen, for his arm to catch, for him to fall, for the horrible sound of crunching bones. But it didn’t come. What did happen was a sudden jolt that caused Tim to slip off the controls and into the dead conductor.

He jumped away quickly. He didn’t know what was happening, but he could do something. He pulled his phone out and called Babs. Tim braced himself against the wall as the train jolted occasionally.

“Hey, Tim. What’s up?”

“Blue line is heading towards the end of the line uncontrolled. I need all stations past Crime Alley starting from the end of the line, cleared. This train might crash.”

“sh*t. Hold on. I’ll take care of it. What happened?”

“Someone blew up the control panel. Conductor’s dead. Trying to find a solution.” He bumped into the wall as there was a larger jolt. He made his way to the console and looked over it, holding on to stabilize himself. “We’re still traveling at about 35 miles an hour.”

“Are you slowing down?”

“Yeah.” There was another jolt and he let out an oof as his gut was thrust into the edge of the console. “Just dropped to 33.”

“Control panel still work?”

“Parts. Not the brakes. There’s a kid, probably 16 or 17, he’s on the front of the train doing… something.”

“On the front?” Babs sounded as shocked as Tim had been.

“Yeah. Woah!” The train jolted hard, sending Tim crashing into the controls hard. His phone clattered out of his hand and onto the floor.

Tim pushed himself up, wincing as a piece of sharp metal had been driven into his arm. He gritted his teeth and pressed a hand against his arm as he looked at the controls. They had slowed substantially. Whatever that crazy kid did, it had worked.

His phone was on the floor but seemed mostly fine, there was a crack in the screen but that was an easy fix. Especially with Wayne money. Babs was still on the phone.

“Tim! Tim are you still there?”

“I’m here. We just dropped to about 14 miles per hour. I don’t know what that kid did. sh*t! Is he alive?” Tim jumped up on the control panel and stuck his head out of the window.

Through some miracle he was still alive and sitting on the coupling. Tim let out a sigh of relief. The relief was very short-lived as when he looked up, he noticed what looked like the end of the line coming to meet them. He looked down at the kid on the front of the train.

“Get back up here!”

That got his attention. He looked up with a startled look of confusion. Tim pointed urgently towards the end of the track and the kid turned to look.

“Crap! Go!” he started standing up on the coupling. Tim moved back into the cabin and moved back towards the door. He hoped the kid would make it in, but he couldn’t exactly help. And if he stayed, they’d both be dead.

“We’re crashing,” he said, moving through the car, picking up speed.

“Get out of there.”

“I’m working on it.” He opened the door to the next car and started running down the car.

When the car hit the end of the track, Tim was sent flying across the cabin.

Chapter 7: Crashing into new problems

Chapter Text

“Tim! Tim!”

He opened his eyes, groaning. The concerned face of Dick slowly started swimming into focus. Followed by Damian who also appeared to be at least mildly concerned.

“Ow.”

Dick let out a breath. “Oh thank god. Where are you hurt?”

Tim sat up, wincing. “I think I hit my head when we stopped.” Pain flared in his arm as he moved it. “Oh yeah. Think I got stabbed.”

“You think! Where?” Dick started worriedly looking over Tim's arm.

“Ow,” Tim said as Dick poked the wound.

“How much of that blood is yours?” Damian asked.

Tim opened his mouth to answer when voices started approaching. The three of them looked over to see what looked like police heading towards them. Looked like Babs got the situation handled. That was good.

“Are any of you injured?” the voice of an officer asked as he entered the wreck of the cabin.

“My brother is injured. Are there paramedics?” Dick asked, standing up and looking very worried.

He nodded. “Paramedics are here. Can you move, son?” the officer asked, looking at Tim.

Tim nodded. “Yeah.” He started to get up and Dick and the officer went to help him.

“Is this all your blood?” the officer asked as they helped him out of the cabin.

Tim shook his head. “No. Most of it is the conductor’s. I think he’s dead.” Tim knew he was dead. But this was Wayne Enterprises CEO Tim Drake and not vigilante Red Robin. He was helped onto a seat on a bench.

The officer nodded. “We will look into it. Do you know anything about what happened?”

“Only a little. Do you need a statement?”

“Can he get medical help first?” Dick asked.

The officer nodded. “Of course.”

It didn’t take long for paramedics to get there. Tim got wrapped in a shock blanket as his arm was treated. Several other people were getting injuries treated. So far, it looked like the conductor was the only death. Dick and Damian were giving their statements as Tim was treated. The officer came back over to Tim as he finished with his brothers. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off.

Tim gave the officer his statement, saying how he and the kid tried to get people out of the cars towards the front of the train, how they found the conductor dead in the cabin with the controls busted, how the kid then climbed out onto the front of the train to stop it. He told them he'd called a friend who had then contacted the police. He finished the statement by telling them about how he’d moved away from the front car before the crash and was flung by the impact.

“I didn’t see the kid coming out behind me. Has anyone found him? Is he ok?” Tim asked, looking up at the officer.

The officer looked at him. “We haven’t found anyone else at the front of the train except the conductor. We’re still searching the rubble. What did he look like?”

“About my height, brown hair, wearing a baggy sweatshirt. You don’t think he’s dead, do you?”

“We don’t know anything yet.”

Peter was clinging to the ceiling in as hidden a spot as he could be. Subway tunnels weren’t the best for hiding. He was using what rubble there was from the crash, and that people tend to not look up for people, to hide himself.

He watched as paramedics, police, and firefighters worked to free people from the train and tended to the injured. He could see the trio that had been in the cabin. It looked like Tim had gotten slightly injured but didn’t look too serious. That was good. Other than the conductor, it didn’t look like many people had gotten seriously injured. Some people had scrapes and bruises and minor bleeding, but nothing life threatening.

Peter let out a quiet sigh of relief. He might not be Spider-man right now, but he did his job. He minimized casualties. He saved people.

Now he just needed to find a way to get himself out of the subway tunnel. Being the end of the line, he couldn’t just back down the tunnel to leave. If he wanted to do that he would need to pass through the open space where all the people were. If he walked on the wall or ceiling and was spotted, he would have too many questions that he didn’t want to answer. If he walked out normally, he would easily be spotted and questioned. He didn’t want to answer questions about how he stopped the train or the webbing on the wheels. And if people spotted him, he would end up having to get medical treatment. And then they’d find his web shooters.

But Peter would need to leave soon. He did need to heal. The tumble had been rough.

When he jumped, there hadn't been a lot of room to actually go anywhere. There was a crash barrier to stop the train, he’d leapt forward towards it. He’d landed and tumbled into a corner just as the train hit. Metal, concrete, plastic, and rubber flew everywhere. Some of the cement from the tunnel had collapsed from the impact, landing on Peter.

It had taken a while to get out from under the fallen tunnel, by that point, police had already shown up. He’d panicked and hid. Now he was stuck there.

He watched as more people started heading towards the end of the tunnel. They appeared to be focused on the cabin. They were probably trying to get the conductor’s body out, Peter reasoned. But there were a few people who were heading past the front of the cabin, toward Peter. That wasn’t good.

“What’s the situation?” Peter shifted slightly to look at the voice that had spoken.

A man in a tan coat with greying hair and holding a coffee in one hand walked over. Peter guessed he was in charge based on how the officers reacted.

“Appears the train was sabotaged. Still not sure who did it or why. There also appears to be a missing teenage boy who appears to have been on the front of the train at the time of the crash.”

The man nodded, sipping his coffee. “Alright. What are we looking at for casualties?”

“Conductor’s dead. Other than that, we have a couple dozen injured. Minor injuries. Mostly scrapes, bruises, and bumped heads. Tim Drake was stabbed in the arm by some shrapnel.”

He sighed and nodded. “Alright.”

“Tim also says that the missing kid that was on the front of subway was doing something to stop the train.”

The man nodded, looking towards the front of the train. Peter shrank back into his hiding spot as best he could. The man looked over the rubble. He didn’t look hopeful of finding Peter alive, which Peter probably wouldn’t have been if he wasn’t enhanced. The man turned back to the officers.

“Get statements, make sure the injured are tended to, then get them out of here. I don’t want them to see the conductor. Especially the kids. We’ll need the fire department towards the front. Leave the cabin as undisturbed as possible until we can get it investigated. It’s a crime scene until further notice. But we need to find that kid.”

The officers nodded and went off to work. There was just the man in a tan coat standing looking over the rubble. His eyes fell over Peter’s hiding spot and paused. Peter held his breath, not daring to move.

“Commissioner.”

The man turned, looking towards the person who had spoken. “Yeah?” he asked, walking over.

Peter let out a breath as he watched him go. He looked around. Most people had been cleared out. And there weren’t many people by the front of the train, just a couple of officers keeping the public away. If Peter could get out and onto the subway, he may be able to climb into the side near the top and climb along it till he could disappear down the tunnel.

Carefully, Peter snuck out from his hiding spot. He crawled down the wall and over the rubble, trying to keep behind cover as much as possible. He could only move so fast due to injuries from the shrapnel and tunnel landing on him. Especially a piece of metal about 4 inches long sticking out of his thigh.

He made it to the cabin and began to stick to the side. As he started climbing up, his foot slipped, dislodging a piece of loose concrete. It fell, clacking against the rubble. Peter’s breath caught as he heard the sound of shoes walking towards him. He moved quickly, climbing up. The metal in his leg scraped against the train loudly as he swung onto the roof. Peter bit his tongue to keep himself from crying out, tears stinging his eyes.

Below him, he could hear someone clambering over the rubble. “Hello?” It sounded like the commissioner. Peter could hear him drop down into the partially clear area between the train and the wall. His boots crunched on the broken glass and concrete dust.

Peter needed to move. But he also needed to get the metal out of his thigh before it made more sound. This was going to hurt a lot. He grabbed the metal, biting back a gasp as a shock of pain shot through him. Below him he could hear the commissioner looking around. It sounded like he was squatting to look under the train. If that was the case, now was the time. He gritted his teeth and pulled sharply.

A whimper escaped out his clenched jaws, his breathing heavy. He set the metal down with a shaky hand. His thigh was bleeding profusely now. He sprayed a quick burst of webbing on his thigh to try and stop it.

“Who’s up there?” Peter froze as he heard the commissioner’s voice. It was time to go. He pulled the hood of his hoodie up over his head and started crawling across the roof as fast as he could.

He heard the commissioner hurriedly scramble over the pile of rubble. “Someone’s on top of the train.”

The sound of people moving towards the train increased greatly as officers moved towards it. He was found out. He needed to get out of here. Peter slipped to the left, dropping off the side of the train and to the ground. He let out a strangled cry as he did, pain flaring through all the injuries. He stumbled into the wall and started hobble running, favoring his left leg. He heard movement behind him.

“Stop!” It sounded like the commissioner. Peter didn’t stop. Footsteps started running after him. Peter felt panic rising up in his chest like a rushing tide, his chest tightening. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, giving him the strength to push through the pain.

However, his pursuer was not handicapped like Peter was. He was gaining on him. Peter pushed himself, running faster even as the pain felt nearly blinding.

A figure moved out from the back of the train. He looked to be holding something like a gun. Peter’s tingle went off and he dodged to the left, launching himself up to the wall. He remembered after a moment that he was normal human Peter and quickly turned to wall jump towards the train.

Only, there wasn’t a wall there. Peter tumbled into the space between cars. His legs hit the cable barriers running between the cars. Momentum carried his body forwards to land on his face on the walkway. He felt his nose break as it connected with the floor. He pushed himself up, blood dripping from his face, and slipped between the cables on the other side.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, he started running as best as his adrenaline-fueled injuries allowed him. He heard the started cries of people as he ran through the station area. Police yelled for him to stop as he skirted around civilians, heading for the exit. A tingle ran up his arm. He pulled his arm to his chest and dodged left as someone made a grab for his arm. The stairs were close. He pushed on through the pain, launching himself up them using both hands to help propel himself up the stairs. He could hear people behind him.

Peter launched himself up onto the street and dove into the crowd of people walking down the street. He moved in the same direction as everyone else, slowing down to match pace with everyone else. He walked as normally as possible, gritting his teeth as he tried not to limp. He pulled his hood down, wiping blood off his nose with his sleeve.

It seemed to work as the police didn’t immediately come after him. Peter turned the corner at the next intersection, relaxing a bit as he was out of the immediate area. He let his limp come back and headed in what he hoped was the correct direction of the theater.

Peter got looks as he walked. He wasn’t surprised by it. He probably looked horrible. He had blood on his face, blood on his pants, and his clothes were torn. Not to mention the limp. At least this was the same as New York. The consensus of the people walking the streets of Gotham was that whatever was going on with Peter, it was not their problem. For that, Peter was grateful.

Walking took most of what was left of the day. He’d been basically on the other side of the city. Not to mention he’d gotten lost more than a few times and had been trying to avoid any police. He was very happy to see the abandoned theater. He limped over and walked around back. He hauled himself up to the roof and let himself in through the roof access door.

Climbing down the ladder hurt a lot. He managed it, somehow, and made his way to his third-floor sleeping spot. The metal ball was still sitting where he left it. That was good.

Peter collapsed onto the floor next to it. He lay there on his back, sprawled out, pain pulsing through his body. He was exhausted and hungry. He couldn’t do anything about the hunger right now. But some rest should help at least close up the wounds and heal the scrapes and hopefully his nose. Then he could put on clean clothes and go out and find something. But for now, he would sleep. Sleep would be good.

He closed his eyes, letting exhaustion sweep over him and lull him into an uneasy sleep.

Chapter 8: How to derail an investigation 101

Chapter Text

“Why did he run? I don’t understand it!” Tim gestured wildly, clearly frustrated, as Alfred drove them back to the manor.

“Well, he looked homeless. Maybe he’s just scared of cops,” Dick suggested, turning in his seat to look back at Tim.

Tim sighed, crossing his arms. “Maybe. But I still want to know how he survived that. And he looked hurt. I hope he’s ok.”

“Was he really on the front of the train?”

“Yeah.”

“And he slowed it down?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how he did it. He should have died! I don’t think even you could do that.”

Damian tsked and Dick turned around even more to shoot him a look. “Damian, you can’t cling onto the outside of a train, and I don’t want you trying.”

“I will be extremely disappointed in anyone who attempts to recreate the actions of the boy on the front of the train,” Alfred said with a meaningful look at them in the rear-view mirror. “Understood?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Understood.”

Alfred nodded, looking at the road. “I am glad we reached an understanding.”

Everything still hurt when he woke back up. Peter groaned as he sat up. There was dried blood on his clothes and the floor and on his face. He ran his hands over his face, rubbing the dried blood off. His face was still tender, but it felt like his nose had healed mostly fine. That was good at least. Carefully, he peeled off his soiled clothes. They pulled at the scabs and every movement brought new pain. But once they were off, he was able to take stock of his injuries.

His leg was the worst one. It had closed up but wasn’t as healed as Peter would have expected it to be. He sighed. Smaller cuts covered his arms, legs, and torso. Most weren’t too bad and should be gone by the end of the next day. Some were worse. There were also still what looked like small, healing burns, cuts, and bruises which were probably from yesterday. At least they were healing. Peter took the time to try and clean out his wounds as best he could. It hurt a lot and it caused him to bleed again. But he needed to do that so nothing got stuck in his wounds as he healed.

Peter stood up, gritting his teeth and using the wall for support. He looked outside. It was dark. The only light was coming from streetlights outside. He looked to his right where his suit was.

He knew he was hurt, and even standing was painful. Not to mention that he was still starving. And he still didn’t know how to contact Doctor Strange or what was going on with the aliens that had attacked New York. Not to mention the mysterious metal ball sitting on the floor next to him. But someone had tried to crash that train on purpose. That was something immediate. There were people who were hurt, and one man who had been killed. Peter couldn’t just leave that alone and not do something.

He sighed and put on the suit. This was going to be a rough night. Maybe he could try and find some food first.

Peter made his way out onto the roof, webbing the door closed behind him. He walked to the edge of the roof and jumped, catching himself with a web attached to a nearby building. Swinging hurt, but it was different from how walking hurt. This was going to be a long night. He needed some aspirin. Like half a bottle of aspirin.

He swung in the direction he thought he remembered the train station being. It took a few minutes to find it once he was in the area, but the police presence helped. He was kinda surprised there was so much of a presence this late. Hopefully, this wouldn’t cause him too much of a problem. Peter landed on the side of the building in an alley nearby the scene and watched, taking stock of the situation. There weren’t many police outside, probably all inside looking at the wreck. Could make it hard for him to look around as he tended to work alone. He didn’t really get involved with police outside of webbing criminals up and calling them to come get them. He climbed down to the ground and made his way to the entrance and down the stairs. Walking down the stairs really hurt. He tried to walk as normally as possible to keep up appearances. He swung himself up and over the turnstiles as he got to them and made his way down to the train tracks.

He could hear voices and movement as he got closer. He paused near the bottom, listening.

“Doesn’t match anyone we know. We’re going through security footage to see if we can find any clues as to who did this.” The voice sounded like an adult male.

“It’s probably someone trying to move up the ranks,” another voice said. “They might not want to take credit for a failed attempt. They’ll probably try something again. Possibly soon.”

“Yeah. What about that missing teen? The one you said fled the scene.”

Oh no, that was Peter. Maybe running hadn’t been the best idea. He’d been scared.

“Nothing yet. I’m guessing you don’t have anything either?”

“No. There’s no good images of him from cameras. We’re trying to trace his steps before and after but he goes into a lot of blind spots.”

The hair on Peter’s neck stood on end suddenly. He turned his head and heard footsteps approaching from outside. Not good. Think fast. Ok. Can’t think fast. Work on instinct. Act natural. He leaned down to tie his shoe, not realizing he wasn’t actually wearing shoes and that the feet of his suit did not have laces or anything similar until he was already down. Shoot.

He was about to stand back up when he paused. There was some blood on the stair by where he was kneeling. Was that his blood?

“What are you doing here?” The voice was very accusatory and demanding. And somewhat familiar. Peter turned and looked up the stairs. His eyes widened a little.

“Hey, you’re that Red Robin guy. Right?”

He headed towards him, holding what Peter now recognized as his collapsible staff. “What are you doing?” Still demanding. Now there were people headed towards them from the station. Crap.

“I heard about the train crash. I wanted to see if I could figure out what was going in.” He stood up as normally as he could.

Footsteps stopped at the base of the stairs only a few feet from him. He turned to look at the people near him, taking a step up the stairs.

He recognized the commissioner from earlier. But he didn’t recognize the man in black spandex with a blue bird symbol across the chest. He was a pretty good-looking man though, even with the domino mask on.

“Red, this the guy you ran into last night?” the man in spandex asked.

“Yeah. It is,” Red Robin said, not sounding happy to see him. “And he’s missing the metal ball he had last night.”

“What sort of metal ball?” the commissioner asked.

Peter put his hands out. “Hold up. Do you think I did this?”

“Did you?” Red Robin challenged.

“No!”

“What’s your name son?” The commissioner didn’t sound as hostile as Red, but he was cautious and suspicious.

“I’m Spider-man. I’m just your friendly neighbor Spider-man. I wanted to help.”

“Where’s the ball?” Red demanded.

“The ball has nothing to do with the train. Can we focus on that please?”

“I would like to know about this ball,” the spandex man said.

More cops turned the corner and Peter looked to see several guns pointed at him. He put his hands up. “Don’t shoot! I’m a good guy!”

The commissioner raised a hand to signal hold to the officers. He looked at Peter. “Why did you show up here tonight?”

“I heard there was a train crash. I wanted to help.”

“How do we know you weren’t involved?” the blue bird man asked.

“I could ask you that too.”

He looked a little hurt at that suggestion.

The commissioner held up a hand. “Nightwing is a known vigilante. As is Red Robin. They work with Batman. I know they’re not involved in the crash. You, however, showed up yesterday out of nowhere with a mysterious metal ball and have been very dodgy.”

“I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just thought I would try to help while I was in town.”

“Where are you from?”

“Queens.”

The commissioner nodded, but it was Red Robin who spoke, causing Peter to turn to look at him. “So, you’re a vigilante from Queens?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Kinda a bit of a superhero.”

Red Robin nodded. “Oracle, you have anything on a Spider-man from Queens?” Peter tilted his head slightly. He would have thought that a hero in a city in Jersey would have at least heard of Spider-man. He thought he could hear the faint buzz of a voice through a radio if he focused. Red Robin continued. “You new to this?”

“Being a hero? No. Have you, have you not heard of Spider-man?”

“First time I’ve heard of you,” Nightwing said, “Other than from Red last night.”

“Oracle can’t find a single record on you.” Peter turned back to face Red Robin as his staff popped to full length. His tingle told him that Nightwing had most likely pulled out weapons as well. The hum of electricity told him that they were electric in some form. He could hear the officers raising their guns. “Who are you really and why are you here?”

Peter raised his hands, taking a step back and hitting the handrail in the middle of the stairs. “Woah, let’s chill, ok? I don’t mean to sound arrogant but how have you guys not heard of me? You’re in New Jersey. New York’s only like 3 hours away tops, not counting traffic. I’ve been on national news!”

“I would suggest you stop lying.”

Peter felt Nightwing moving closer to him and quickly ducked under the handrail. That sent everyone into action. Red Robin and Nightwing both jumped over the handrail after him. Several shots by police were fired at Peter, some of which only missed due to his tingle giving him enough warning for him to move towards the wall.

“Hold your fire!” the commissioner commanded. Peter could hear him heading up the steps. It appeared he didn’t want either of the Gotham vigilantes hit. It seemed like he planned to give Red Robin backup to stop Peter from escaping that way.

They were closing in on Peter, probably thinking they had him cornered. Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for Peter, he was Spider-man. He climbed up the handrail on the wall and started climbing up the wall. The motion hurt his leg a lot, but the alternative would be worse.

“What the hell?” That sounded like the commissioner. The other officers, as well as Nightwing, seemed to make similar sounds of surprise. Peter took the momentary opening from the confusion to hurry up the wall and onto the ceiling. He climbed as fast as he could, biting through the searing pain, towards the top of the stairs.

“Red!”

“On it!”

And just like that, his head start was over. The vigilantes and cops were back in action. Many pairs of feet hurried up the steps after him. He could distinguish Nightwing's and Red Robin’s easily from the rest. Nightwing’s were lighter with a very agile gait, and both of them moved faster than the police. Which also meant they were catching up to Peter.

He flinched as dust exploded next to him. One of the police had shot at him but just missed, hitting the ceiling instead. Red Robin took advantage of the pause to swipe at Peter with his staff.

That thing connected solidly with Peter’s ribs with a rather loud and painful crack. Peter cried out in pain, feeling the broken rib. His vision started to black out. That was bad, very bad. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he got caught. He didn’t exactly have good experiences with being arrested, and he didn’t think these two vigilantes would make anything better. He pushed on, his crawl having a more noticeable limp to it.

Red Robin swung again and Peter scrambled to the side, getting sprayed with concrete and ceramic dust as another shot landed next to him. He pushed on, avoiding another swing from Red Robin. It seemed that Nightwing expected this, however. His tingle screamed at him just in time for something electric to make contact with his thigh right next to where he’d been stabbed. Electricity jolted through him. He yelled in pain, partially losing his grip on the roof.

The shock itself didn’t last very long as Nightwing had apparently needed to jump to get him, but it had been enough. Peter fell, landing on the vigilante. His vision swam and he could feel Nightwing beginning to bear hug him. He needed to get out. Out of this subway, out of this city.

Peter pushed back against Nightwing, breaking his grip. He tussled with him. The man was surprisingly acrobatic and good at hand-to-hand combat. However, he couldn’t match Peter’s superhuman strength, even while injured. Peter managed to get his feet under him and grabbed the handrail, using it to stabilize himself. He shot a web at Nightwing’s foot and pulled.

The man pulled a comical surprised face before flailing his arms as his foot was yanked out from under him. He tumbled down the stairs, running into several police officers who were trying to make their way up towards him. This made Red Robin angry. Alarms went off in his head and he jerked his hand back as the staff came crashing down where he had been holding. He quickly ducked to avoid a swing aimed at his head.

He needed to get out. He shot a web at Red Robin, catching him in the chest. He quickly attached the other end to the handrail before beginning to run, as best he could with a now somewhat severe limp, up the stairs. There were several pairs of hurried footsteps behind him, along with the confused and startled sounds of a now stuck Red Robin. He was almost at the top.

Pain ripped through his side. One of the police had got a shot in on him. Not good. Peter was almost at his limit for how much pain he could take at the moment. Not to mention that several wounds had reopened, meaning that he was bleeding again. He was about at the top when he felt his tingle go off again, causing him to jump to the side. Something whizzed past his shoulder and skidded along the floor ahead of him in a way that was definitely metallic.

Peter scrambled onto the landing and ran for the turnstiles. He shot a web at the ceiling to propel himself up. As he did, something red and metallic caught his eye. That might have been what was thrown at him. His web caught, propelling him forward as he cleared the turnstiles. He stumbled as he landed but quickly caught himself and kept going. It sounded like the cops after him weren’t as quick to get up the stairs and even slower at the turnstiles.

It sounded like Nightwing wasn’t, however. Peter could soon hear and feel the vigilante catching up with him. He was nearly at the top. Then he could probably lose him. But Nightwing was gaining on him. He could hear the thrum of the electricity from his escrima sticks. Peter dodged right, the pain in his thigh causing spots in his vision. A stick barely passed by him. He took the chance to grab Nightwing by the arm and throw him up the stairs. He hurried up in time to see where he’d tumbled across the sidewalk into a police barrier. He webbed him a couple times.

"I’m sorry. I just wanted to help. It’ll dissolve in a few hours.”

“Hey!”

Peter didn’t listen to the rest of what Nightwing had to say. He shot a web off and swung away. He needed to get back. He needed to rest. He needed to heal. He needed food.

He needed to know what the hell was going on that people from New Jersey didn’t know who Spider-man was, and what this city even was.

He was starting to suspect that whatever had happened back in New York had caused something to go very, very wrong.

Chapter 9: A pantheon of unanswered questions

Chapter Text

“You said he believes he is a well-known superhero from Queens?” Jason asked, leaning on a table while Tim worked on bringing the video file up on the batcomputer. He’d decided to visit the batcave to see what exactly was going on with this Spiderman. It also helped that Bruce was still in Milan.

And Alfred gave him cookies.

Dick nodded. “Said he’d been on national news.”

“He doesn’t show up on any database I have. I’ve checked everything. Tried different spelling variations too. Spiderman, all one word, Spider-man with a hyphen, Spider Man with a space. Nothing. Even tried Spiders-man in case we misheard him. Nothing matching our mystery man,” Babs said from over a speaker in the computer. Jason sighed.

“Got it!” Tim grinned. Everyone gathered around and looked at the computer screen as Tim pulled up a feed from a camera in his suit. They watched as the scene unfolded from a conversation towards the fight.

“Look at his stance. He’s injured,” Jason pointed out, gesturing at the kid’s leg. The others nodded.

“He was injured yesterday as well, though it appears to have gotten worse,” Tim said, watching intently.

“And yet he still managed to beat you and Grayson,” Damian said, his arms crossed.

“You wait and tell me how you would respond to this,” Dick said. After a moment Dick started pointing at the screen. “This! How do you handle this?”

Jason frowned under his helmet. The kid jumped up on the handrail and, for a second, Jason thought he was going to try and pull a Dick move and backflip over people. But no, instead he just climbed up the f*cking wall and onto the goddamn ceiling like it was nothing.

“What the f*ck?”

“Drake informed us yesterday that he was able to stick to glass on the side of a building. This should not have been a surprise.”

“You weren’t even there,” Dick said, turning to look at Damian. “Hearing about it is one thing but seeing it is unnatural.”

Jason had to agree with Dick on this one. That wasn’t right. “Either he has some ungodly good tech or he’s meta.”

They watched as Tim hit him in the side. Jason could hear the crack of his ribs and the cry of pain. He was surprised when he stayed up and kept crawling, dodging Tim’s next attack and getting hit by Dick jumping and shocking him.

“Red, can you rewind that 5 seconds?”

“Yeah, sure.” He rewound the video to when Spiderman dodged his attack and got hit by Dick.

“Again. And slow it down to about half speed right before Dick attacks.”

Tim did so and they watched.

“O, what are we supposed to be looking at?”

“Watch his leg right before Dick hits him. He flinches.”

“People flinch when I shock them,” Dick said, watching the scene play out closely.

Jason thought he saw what Babs meant. “No, dickhe*d. He flinches before that. He puts his right leg down as he moves away from Tim and starts to move his left leg but quickly shifts his weight back to it to move his right leg again. He knew the attack was coming.”

“He saw it coming,” Damian said with a tsk.

Tim shook his head. “No. He was looking at the exit. He couldn’t have seen Dick.”

“I don’t trust this guy,” Jason said, crossing his arms. “He’s hiding something.”

“Perhaps we should tell Father.”

“No. Look, this is one kid. We can handle this,” Dick said, looking at the others. “Come on, it’s no trickier than any other time some new villain starts up. We just need to figure out what he wants and how to take him down. Then he gets sent to Arkham. That’s our job. That’s what we do. This is what we’ve trained for.”

Peter didn’t feel any better in the morning.

If anything, he felt worse. Everything ached, and his stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself from the inside out, which it very well could be. He needed to eat, especially as it felt like his body had used up basically all the excess fat he had to heal his rib. Or at least partly heal it. It still didn’t feel fully healed.

He pushed himself up with a heavy groan. First things first, he was getting food. Then he needed to figure out what was going on.

Peter got up and looked around him. He needed clean clothes. He didn’t want to walk around covered in dried blood. That was just begging for trouble. But he was staying in a theater. They had costumes, and some of them had to be somewhat normal. Right?

It took a bit of painful wandering for him to find something that was close to his size and wouldn’t get people staring at him like he just escaped from the theater. They smelled heavily of dust and the sweater were a bit moth-eaten. But it was better than nothing and better than bloody clothes. He put them on and made his way up to the roof, webbing the door behind him before crawling down to the street.

He made his way towards the soup kitchen he’d gone to yesterday. That should be fine. He walked through the city until he managed to find the soup kitchen. He was absolutely starved, and his leg and side were hurting extremely by the time he got there. He opened the door and walked in, looking around.

It was quieter than when he’d been there last time. Not empty, but the line wasn’t as long. Within a couple minutes he’d gotten some yogurt, a cup of fruit, and a blueberry muffin. It was better than nothing. He got himself a glass of water and went to sit down at an empty end of a table.

It was fairly quiet, which was nice. He started eating, focusing on his plate. He could hear people talking around him, but he wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying. He was absolutely starving, so as soon as he took the first bite, he started inhaling it as fast as he could. He barely stopped enough to breathe.

“Peter?”

He froze, hearing his name, and looked up. A familiar face in a leather jacket walked towards him from the door. He quickly swallowed the bite of fruit he’d taken and sat up a bit. “Hey, Jason.”

“You ok kid? You weren’t on the subway that crashed, were you?” He looked a bit worried.

Peter shrugged, looking back at his plate. “I made it out ok.”

“sh*t kid.” Jason sat down across from him. “You get hurt at all?”

“Nothing major.” Bit of a lie. The shrapnel that had gone into his leg had been pretty bad. Jason had a look like he didn’t quite believe him.

“You being honest with me?”

Peter glanced up at him. Jason was looking at him intently, his brows furrowed slightly with intense blue-green eyes staring out at him. There was something slightly unsettling about his eyes that Peter couldn’t quite place.

Peter nodded, trying to act convincing. “Yeah. I’m fine. I swear.”

Jason sighed, pushing himself back from the table slightly so he sat up straighter. “Fine kid. Glad you’re ok.”

Peter nodded and looked back at his plate. He started shoveling the rest of his yogurt into his mouth.

“sh*t Pete, when did you last eat?”

Peter looked back up at Jason and swallowed so he could talk. “Yesterday around lunch.”

“Here?” Peter nodded. Jason sighed. Peter could tell the older man was starting to worry about him, which, granted, he had reason to. Not that Peter wanted him to.

“It’s ok. It’s temporary. Just until I can get my feet back under me and make it back home to New York.”

Jason sighed. He didn’t seem convinced. “You at least have somewhere to stay off the streets?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. I got a place.”

“Good.” Jason watched Peter finish eating his breakfast. “What are you doing today?”

“I’m going to get in contact with someone back home.”

Jason nodded. “Ok, good. Best of luck kid.”

Peter nodded, smiling. “Thanks.” He got up to put his tray away. Jason’s gaze suddenly hardened.

“You’re hurt.”

“What? Oh, yeah. I got jumped by a couple of guys. It’s no big deal.”

Jason growled in the back of his throat. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Look, it’s fine. I’m from Queens. I know how to deal with muggers.”

“New York muggers are different from Gotham muggers.”

“I’m fine. Promise.”

Jason gave him a hard look. He clearly didn’t believe him. “We both know that’s bullsh*t. But I’ll let it go if you promise to be more careful in the future. Got it?”

Peter nodded. “I’ll be more careful. Promise.”

“Good.” Jason pushed himself up. “Take care of yourself, Peter.”

“You too, Jason.”

Peter watched as Jason headed out of the soup kitchen. He sighed and set his tray down on the return. He saw a couple volunteers inside working on dishes and preparing what would probably be lunch. “Thank you!”

One of them looked over and smiled, so Peter waved before turning to head out. It was cold and drizzly out. The clouds overhead threatened more rain. He could walk but he’d get soaked through with no reliable way to dry his clothes. Best take the subway, though he wasn’t sure if the line he took last time would be reopened.

He remembered where the nearest station was and hurried there and in before he got wetter. He walked over to the map. There was a sign saying that the last station on the blue line was temporarily closed, but it seemed to be open other than that. That was good. Peter made his way to the turnstiles and quickly jumped them. He made his way down to the blue line and waited for the train. It luckily arrived shortly after he got there, and he got on and sat down. The train ride was much less eventful than his last one had been, with only one tweaker going off on people randomly and muttering to himself. Peter made it safely to the station in old town Gotham and got off, making his way up and out.

The architecture was very nice here. Nice classic Greco-Roman style buildings. It didn’t take him long to find one with “Gotham Public Library” written in large, block, capital letters on the pediment. He went in and looked around. It was a large library and very nice inside. It was somewhat busy, but there were still lots of open spots at the tables in the middle of the room. He could hear the mummer of people throughout the library along with the frequent sounds of pages turning and books sliding onto and off shelves. He turned towards the sound of something stamping which appeared to be coming from what looked like the front desk. That was as good a place to start as any.

The woman at the desk looked up at Peter as he got to the deck, pausing from stamping the library’s name into what must be new arrivals. She smiled kindly. “Hello. Can I help you?”

“Yeah, hi. I’m not from around here but I was wondering if I could borrow a computer here.” He smiled. It took him a moment to notice he was nervously taping the back of his hand with his fingers. He adjusted his hands trapping his fingers to get himself to stop.

“Of course. Do you have some form of ID?”

Peter felt his heart sink a little, and it must have shown in his expression as the woman’s face softened slightly. “No. I, uh, I lost all my ID. I just want to try and contact someone from home so I can get back to New York.”

She nodded. “Ok. I can still help you. What’s your name?” She asked. She started moving and Peter noticed that she was in a wheelchair. She rolled to one end of the desk and picked up a piece of paper before rolling back to her spot and grabbing a pen.

“Peter Parker.”

She started writing and glanced up at him. “Peter. You don’t happen to be the same Peter that I talked to over the phone yesterday?”

Peter perked up. “You’re Jason’s friend?”

She nodded. “I am. Barbara Gordon. Friends call me Babs.” She held out a hand. Peter reached over the desk and shook her hand. She had a good, firm handshake.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“You too. Now, I’m going to give you a temporary card. This will let you use the computers, but you can’t check books out of the library until I have some form of ID from you. But you are free to read books here,” she explained, setting a piece of paper on the counter. Peter picked up the paper. It was about the size of an index card and had his name written on it along with a library ID number.

He looked back up at her. “Thank you so much.”

She smiled back. “Of course. Computers are to the left.”

“Thanks.” He turned and made his way through the library, looking around. It appeared well-funded. Someone, or several someones, appreciated the public service that was a library. He found the computers and sat down at one of them. He used his ID number to log in and opened up the browser.

He tried searching for Doctor Strange. Just like Barbara said, there was no trace of him anywhere. That was strange (heh). He thought he would still have had an online presence. Or at the very least shown up in news reports. Peter googled Tony Stark instead. The results made his blood run cold.

Tony Stark showed up, but it wasn’t the correct Tony Stark. Where there should have been links for Stark Industries, memorials, and news articles, instead were pages for other people named Tony Stark. One had gotten arrested for assault and drug dealing.

Peter searched for Stark Industries. A couple similarly named industrial and electrical companies showed up. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Peter ran his hand down his face. He was pretty sure he still had the phone number Mr. Stark had given him memorized. He’d had to call it a couple times in emergencies. It had linked to both Happy and Pepper’s phones after Tony died. Maybe he could try that. He just needed to find a phone he could borrow or money for a payphone. He logged off and got up, heading to the front desk.

Barbara was putting the newly stamped books onto a cart. She looked over when Peter cleared his throat. She wheeled around to face him. “Yes Peter, something I can help you with?”

“Um, yeah. I was wondering if there’s a phone somewhere I can borrow?” He fiddled anxiously with one of the buttons on his jacket.

Barbara nodded. “Yeah. Do you know the number you need to call?” Peter nodded. “Ok, good. Here, there’s a payphone booth off the vestibule. It’s 25 cents for 10 minutes.” She handed him a few quarters.

Peter took them. “Thanks.” He headed into the vestibule and found the payphone. He stepped into the booth and put in a couple quarters and dialed the number, waiting anxiously for someone to pick up, leaning on one arm which was pressed against the wall. After the second ring, the phone picked up.

“Hello?” The voice sounded like an old man’s, and not anyone Peter recognized.

“Uh, hi. Is Mrs. Potts there?”

“Mrs. Potts? No. I don’t think there’s a Mrs. Potts here. Just me.”

“Ok. Sorry to bother you. Have a nice day.”

“Take care sone. I hope you find your Mrs. Potts.”

“Me too.” Peter hung up and sighed, slowly sinking down onto the small bench on one side. He sat there for a moment before pressing the button for change and listening to the sound of coins falling into a metal cup.

He couldn’t call home. Whatever had happened, whatever the alien device did, it meant that he couldn’t get home. He couldn’t contact anyone he knew, and to top it off, it was as if none of them existed. He put his head in his hands. What was he going to do?

Chapter 10: If you're stuck here, might as well settle in

Chapter Text

Barbara wheeled herself and the cart towards the next section of books and paused, looking over towards the front doors. She could just see into the payphone booth from where she was. Peter was sitting there with his head in his hands. That wasn’t a good sign. She sighed. The kid was obviously homeless with no ID or money, though she wasn’t sure if he had just lost it somewhere between here and New York. But it wasn’t her place to judge or ask prying questions about his past. But she was in a position to try and help him now as best she could.

She pushed the cart to a mostly out of the way position at the end of an aisle before rolling to the vestibule. Peter didn’t look up as she pushed the button for the automatic door to open. She knew the door wasn’t the quietest. He must be lost in some pretty deep thoughts. Barbara rolled herself over to the payphone booth. The phone was resting on the hook, and she could see change in the return slot. Whoever Peter had tried to reach, it hadn’t gone well. She knocked softly on the door.

Peter startled, sitting bolt upright. His eyes were a bit red and it seemed like he’d obviously been crying. He quickly wiped his eyes on his sleeve and opened the door. “Sorry, do you need the phone?”

“No, no it’s ok. I wanted to make sure you’re ok. Call not go well?”

Peter sighed, shoulders slumping. “No. It wasn’t them. And I know it was the right number. But it… it wasn’t the right person.”

Babs nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I don’t know how to get home. I don’t have any money or my license or anything. And now I can’t seem to get in contact or find the people from back home who could help me.” Peter sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Poor guy.

“Well, you could try to get a temporary job here. Just something so you can get enough money to get a train ticket or something to make it up to New York.”

Peter looked over at her. “I don’t have access to any of my ID. No driver’s license, no passport, nothing.”

“Do you know your Social Security Number?”

Peter paused, thinking. “Yeah.”

She smiled. “Start there. You can get a Gotham license.”

Peter smiled. He could do that. “Thanks, Mrs. Gordon,” he said, standing up. She rolled back out of the way so he could leave the booth. “Do you mind if I use the computers?”

“Of course. Take your time.” She smiled as Peter got the door for her. He seemed to have more confidence in his stride as he headed back over to the computers. Though she did notice his limp.

There was definitely something wrong here. Not with the library, but with this whole world itself. Which technically included the library.

Doctor Strange didn’t exist. Spider-man didn’t exist. Tony’s phone number didn’t go through to the right person. And Peter was in a city hours from New York that he’d never heard of with vigilantes that he’d never heard of either. Doing some quick internet searches turned up nothing for any of the Avengers, the Battle of Manhattan, the Snap, Thanos, any of it.

Peter himself didn’t show up. What everyone had been saying about Spider-man not existing was true. There wasn’t a single trace of him, either version of him. Peter bit his lip, thinking.

“Ok Peter, come on. You’re smart. Figure out what’s happening. You can do this.”

He started looking up the vigilantes he had run into: Red Robin and Nightwing. The commissioner and Jason had both mentioned someone going by Batman, who might also be a vigilante.

A few searches later, it appeared that Peter had only met the tip of the iceberg when it came to vigilantes in Gotham. Batman apparently started it all and the rest had flocked (heh) to him. They were affectionately called the Birds and the Bats, which was appropriate considering the naming theme. Robin, Red Robin, Blue Bird, and Nightwing (maybe that one wasn’t exactly a bird, but it was bird-related and his chest did have a bird on it) were all Birds. Batman, Black Bat, Batgirl, Batwoman, and Batwing were all Bats.

But there were also ones like Spoiler, Red Hood, Signal, and Orphan (which wow, why that name) that weren’t a Bat or a Bird, name wise at least. It was also weird that there were so many of them that only worked at night, but Signal was the only one that worked regularly during the day. What did that guy do to get the lonely shift? They all seemed to interact pretty regularly with each other as far as Peter could tell. Did they not like the guy or something? Maybe Peter would try and talk to him as Spider-man. He didn’t hold out much hope for not getting attacked on sight, based on his track record in Gotham so far, but maybe he’d only have to deal with one person instead of multiple. Maybe he’d actually get some answers.

Now he just needed to figure out why everything was different, and how and why it changed. What could have caused such drastic changes to the fabric of the universe as Peter knew it?

Peter froze, eyes going wide. The universe. What if the reason things were so different was because Peter wasn’t in his universe? That could explain things. He wasn’t sure how to test his theory outside of observations. Was this how the other Peters felt?

Peter’s fingers started moving on the keyboard again. Assuming he was right, he was in another universe. The basic rules of physics seemed to still be the same. Some major points in history still seemed the same. There was a Wonder Woman present in WWII instead of Captain America, but she seemed to fill a similar role. It seemed that only within the past few decades, after the rise in heroes, that there were major diversions in the timelines. It looked like a lot of the heroes had been around longer than the heroes from his world. Interesting.

Being in another universe also meant that Peter was stuck here for the foreseeable future. At least until he could figure out how exactly he got here, and how he could get back. He would need to make a new identity here. He would prefer not to be homeless forever. He could stay squatting in the abandoned theater for now, especially if he got it cleaned up. It could be a good base of operations, lots of room, and hard for anyone besides him (and maybe grapplehook-wielding vigilantes) to get in. But he would need a job. Peter needed food, a lot of food, and supplies.

He set to work starting to craft himself a new identity. Well, it wasn’t technically a new identity. He was still going to be Peter Parker, there wasn’t really any reason to actually change his name as he’d never existed here. But Peter Parker needed to exist here.

Peter was much better with the hardware side of things. He knew enough about software and coding to get stuff to work and override the Baby Monitor protocols, but he wasn’t exactly able to hack a government website without getting noticed. Let alone hack several government websites. Which meant that Peter had to do this the old-fashioned way and submit paperwork.

First step was to make a new email address. Then he needed to figure out a physical address. It didn’t take long to find the address for the theater he was staying in. It looked like he was right about the memorial. Apparently, two people had been shot there: Martha and Thomas Wayne. Left their son Bruce an orphan and heir to a multi-billion-dollar corporation. Seemed like Wayne Enterprise did just about everything. Including, apparently, feeding Peter as the soup kitchen he frequented was part of a foundation in the memory of Martha Wayne.

They also had a rather large presence in the technology sector. If this had been his universe, he would have expected it to be competing directly against Stark Industries. They also researched alien technology, which was interesting. Peter would need to look into the alien interactions in this universe. Maybe there would be something useful there.

Their main competitor was a company called LexCorp which operated out of Metropolis. That was another city Peter had never heard of. Interestingly, it seemed to have its own hero called Superman. He was apparently an alien. Some species called a Kryptonian. Supposedly invulnerable, could fly, super speed, super strength, laser eyes, x-ray vision. Guy seemed to have hit the superpower jackpot. Peter could use a little bit of invulnerability. He touched his leg, feeling the stab wound that still hadn’t healed in his leg. Yeah, invulnerability would be nice.

Metropolis didn’t appear to be far from Gotham. And Superman seemed nice enough from what Peter was reading. But he also was apparently one of the founding members of something called the Justice League, which Batman was also a founding member of. Based on Peter’s interactions with the Birds he’d met so far, Batman wasn’t going to like Spider-man, which also meant that Superman probably wouldn’t either. They seemed close from what he could gather. And with his power set, Peter didn’t actually know if he could take him if Superman decided to fight him. Maybe he’d save that for a last resort.

But LexCorp sounded familiar. Why did it sound familiar? He shook his head. Couldn’t worry about that now. It would probably come to him later. He’d avoid applying for any jobs at LexCorp. For one, the owner was hella shady and according to the BBB, it was not a great company to work for. And it would require Peter to move to Metropolis. He didn’t want to take that risk, not yet.

Wayne Enterprises, however, if he could get a job there that could be perfect. He was qualified, at least he would be back in his home universe. He knew he could complete the work; he had experience with alien tech. Different alien tech, but still. The point wasn’t knowing how the specific alien tech worked, it was being able to pick up on the patterns present in the alien tech you were working with. A circuit was a circuit, it’s figuring out what it did that was the fun part. And a job there might get him access to tools or equipment he needed to get home. Plus, it looked like even entry-level jobs paid well.

Now it was just a matter of trying to make himself legal enough in this universe that he could get a job, preferably at Wayne Enterprises. He just had to hope he got an interview. If he got an interview, he knew he could ace it.

Paperwork took a few hours to sort out. He was pretty sure he got everything. He shied away from anything that would most likely put him on the radar of a government agency. Hopefully. Nothing in this plan was exactly foolproof. He just had to hope that the Parker luck wouldn’t hit too hard. He didn’t want to be arrested. Again. He shuttered at the thought.

He had also managed to get in a few job applications. Wayne Enterprises did in fact have several openings that Peter would fit perfectly into. He applied to the lower-level positions in the R&D department. He also applied to some entry-level jobs outside of Wayne Enterprises, things like retail and food service.

By the time he was done, Peter was absolutely starving. When had he last eaten? He had had breakfast that morning at the soup kitchen. That had been, Peter looked at the clock on the computer, nearly seven hours ago. No wonder he was so hungry. He logged out of the computer and stood up, stretching and getting a few good cracks out of his back. He just needed to find a nearby soup kitchen. Or maybe a food pantry. He could use having some food on hand.

He waved to Babs on the way out. The weather outside was grey and threatening rain. This place seemed like the sort of city you expect to be sort of grey and damp all the time, kinda like Seattle. Probably helped that the city was filled with a lot of monotone concrete or stone buildings that weren’t 90% glass windows. And the city was called Gotham. It literally had goth in the name!

He wandered around for a while before he found a food pantry. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he saw the sign. A loud growl came from his stomach. Peter glanced both ways before jogging across the street to the food pantry.

He walked in and looked around. It wasn’t too different from the food pantries in New York. Though, he’d mostly been on the other side of them when he’d gone. Volunteering with Aunt May or as Spider-man. But coming in as someone who needed food. This was new.

“Hello. Can I help you?”

Peter looked over to see a young, blonde woman leaning over the counter to look at him. She smiled at him. She seemed very friendly and outgoing, which helped put Peter at ease. Even though his tingle was going off slightly. But that might just be something to do with this city. Everything seemed dangerous.

“Hi. Yeah. It’s my first time here,” Peter said, walking over to her. As he got to the counter, he could see that she had a name tag that said ‘Steph’ on it.

She nodded. “You don’t sound like you’re from Gotham.”

“I’m from New York.”

“New York hu. Cool. I’m Steph. Guessing you’re here because you need food.”

Peter nodded, his stomach growling again. He blushed slightly. “I’m Peter. And yeah.”

She smiled. “Alrighty. You have some ID?”

Peter froze. “Uh, no. I kinda lost everything on the trip here. Working on getting new ID though. Sent in the paperwork today.”

She nodded, frowning slightly in thought. “That makes this a little trickier. See, we need some form of ID to make sure you’re not taking too much food. Legal stuff, you know.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. My aunt worked at a place that helped people with food, aid, shelter, that sort of thing. Gotta make sure you’ve got all the paperwork in order so you can keep that charity non-profit label.”

She nodded. “Exactly.” She paused, chewing her lip in thought. “I can probably get you some stuff though. Wait here.”

“Ok.” Peter watched as Steph moved out from behind the counter and headed through a door that said employees only. He waited patiently for her, rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels as he looked around. He paused, noticing a picture over the counter. He tilted his head slightly, looking at it. It looked like Nightwing wearing a Santa hat and helping pass out food to people. Next to him appeared to be a child in a brightly colored costume. The kid didn’t seem quite as happy as Nightwing was in the photo. He also had a Santa hat on.

Based on what he’d been researching, this must be Robin. He’d seen different images online of several variations of the Robin outfit and what appeared to be a number of different kids in the outfit over the years, though most of them looked pretty similar. If he had to guess, the Robin was a title that was passed on from one person to the next. This Robin had to be the most recent and current Robin. Peter tilted his head, looking at the picture. Was that a sword under the table?

He was jolted from his thoughts as Steph came jogging back over. “Good news! We can get you some food. Got permission from the director.”

Peter looked over at her. “You can? Great! Thanks!”

She smiled. “Of course! That’s why we’re here. To help people.”

Peter smiled back. “I appreciate this so much. I really do. Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Come on. Let’s get you some food.”

After a few minutes. Peter had two plastic bags of food. He’d gotten some granola bars, a can of sliced carrots, some rice, a loaf of bread, and a jar of peanut butter. He looked at her smiling in appreciation. “Thank you so much.”

She smiled. “Hey, no problem. You stay safe out there, Peter.”

He nodded. “You too. Thank you again.” He headed out the door.

It had started raining. Peter tied the handles of the bags together to try and keep the rain out. He just needed to get to the subway and he could get back to the theater mostly dry. He’d passed a station on his way here. It was about five blocks away. Peter sighed and pulled the hood up on his jacket. Nothing he was wearing was waterproof. He was going to be soaked. Hopefully, he could dry out his clothes at the theater. He squared his shoulders and stepped out onto the rain.

He was thoroughly soaked by the time he made it back. He made his way inside and sighed, setting down the groceries. He’d eaten a couple of the granola bars on the subway ride over. He was still planning to head to the soup kitchen for dinner. Hopefully he could find something waterproof in here.

He stripped out of his soaking wet clothes and pulled on some gaudy pants and a poet's shirt. They were dry at least and would keep him somewhat warm, but he wouldn’t wear them out in the street. Too conspicuous. He hung his wet clothes on a costume rack to dry. He sighed, walking over to the area he’d been sleeping in. The ball was still sitting right where he’d left it. Peter sat down and sighed. He should try and get some sleep. That way he’d be up to going out as Spider-man later. He lay down and closed his eyes.

It had stopped raining by the time Peter woke up. His clothes weren’t fully dry, but they would be fine. Besides, it was likely going to rain more later and with the limited number of clothes he had, he didn’t want to get all of them wet.

He looked around through the costumes to see if there was, by any chance, a raincoat. The Parker luck was strong today. Not a single piece of waterproof clothing could be found. He sighed. He was just going to have to deal with being wet.

Peter headed out through the roof, climbing down the wet bricks to reach the alley below. He pulled his hood up to try and stave off at least some of the damp cold.

One thing Peter had noticed over the past couple days was that, in the area around where he was camping out, there were a lot more shady characters. His tingle kept pinging on random individuals walking down the street, or sitting on stoops, or smoking in doorways. And the later it was, the more of them there were. Peter kept glancing over at them out of an instinctive reaction to his tingle. He kept trying not to as he didn’t want to invite any problems. He was Peter Parker right now. Peter Parker was not Spider-man. He couldn’t just fight bad guys and web them to the side of the building. Peter needed to act like a normal person. And normal people avoided looking at people who clearly had a gun tucked in their waistband.

Luckily, he’d managed to avoid trouble so far. Hopefully, that luck lasted. He had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t.

The Martha Wayne Foundation building had a line by the time Peter got there. He dutifully took his spot in line, trying to ignore the obvious gangb*nger in front of him. Everyone seemed pretty subdued, maybe it was because everyone was vaguely damp. He could overhear some people in line trying to calm children, a couple others were discussing how they were going to make this month’s rent, some were gossiping about celebrities. But one conversation drew Peter’s attention very quickly.

“You see the guy in the red and blue suit? Swings around?”

“Haven’t seen him. Think Bill said he saw him. Mentioned it last night at work.”

“Anyone heard anything about him?”

“Heard someone saw him throw Nightwing into a police barricade by the subway station.”

“So, he’s probably not with the Bats. Unless we’ve got a second Red Hood.”

“sh*t, I hope not. One is already bad enough.”

“True enough.”

The conversation stopped as the two who had reached the counter and were getting food.

Red Hood. Peter’s research said that he was Bat adjacent. Worked with them sometimes but also fought with them sometimes. Bit hit or miss, literally, with him. Also, he was a crime lord. Had killed a lot of people. Peter didn’t think he wanted to run into him. That was asking for trouble. Peter wasn’t exactly trying to get into the hero scene in Gotham, not currently anyways. They all seemed to hate him. He didn’t want to upset whatever the balance between the Bats and Red Hood was.

He shook the thoughts from his head as he got to the counter. The lady who had been there the first time he was there greeted him. He smiled.

“Hi. It was Julia, right.”

She smiled, nodding. “It is. What was your name again?”

“Peter.”

She nodded again. “Good to see you, Peter. Vegetables?”

“Yes please.” He walked down the line as she got him food. He noticed there were only a couple people working on the line. “You look a little short-staffed.”

She nodded. “It can be a little hard sometimes to get enough volunteers in here.”

“I could help. If you want. I’m waiting to hear back on some job applications, but until then I don’t really have anything to do during the day.”

Julia smiled. “I’ll see what I can do. Meet with me after dinner, ok?”

Peter smiled. “Thanks.” He got his food and went to find a spot to sit. It was more crowded so Peter picked a spot which wasn’t immediately next to someone, and closer to people who didn’t make his skin crawl in warning. He ended up sitting about in the middle of a long table near a family with two kids and a couple teens who were not talking to anyone. He forced himself to eat slowly. Partly so he didn’t look like he was starved and draw attention to himself, partly so he wouldn’t have to hang around as long to talk to Julia.

It was a stew with vegetables, beef broth, and rice today. It was really good, and pretty filling. That was good. Peter let himself focus on enjoying the stew.

Suddenly he felt all his hairs stand on end as his tingle went off. He looked up, everything seeming to move in slow motion as a man walked through the door. Peter started to stand as he saw the man pull out a gun and aim it at one of the guys in line at the counter. People started screaming and dropping to the floor as the first shot rang out.

As the sound hit Peter, time seemed to catch back up with him. He ran towards the gunman as people dove to the floor and under tables. A larger man slammed into him as he tried to get away. Peter pushed his way past him, trying to dodge around other terrified people. The gunman shot twice more at the guy at the counter before noticing Peter approaching. He turned to point the gun at Peter.

Not good. He could move to dodge it because then someone else could get shot. There were kids behind him. He couldn’t let anything happen to the kids. The gunman squeezed the trigger and Peter gritted his teeth.

Pain flared in his shoulder. He gasped, stumbling, but pushed on. He was only a couple steps from the gunman and was quickly able to get to him. He grabbed the hand with the gun and forced it up as another shot rang out. The sound caused Peter’s ears to ring as dust fell down on him. He struck the back of the hand holding the gun, causing it to fall to the ground. The man growled and swung a haymaker at Peter. He ducked under his attack and punched him on the side, right on the lower floating ribs. That showed him down at least. But it wasn’t enough to keep him from swinging another punch at Peter. He took a half step back, the man moved with him, the punch colliding with the side of his head. Peter stumbled back, seeing stars for a moment. The man advanced after him, drawing out a knife.

sh*t. Not good. Not as bad as a gun, but still not good. Peter just needed to try and keep from getting sliced and keep the guy busy until police hopefully arrived.

The good thing was that the guy swung in wide, highly telegraphed arcs. That made them easier to dodge. Less to when he grabbed Peter with one hand. He had a very strong grip. The knife came swinging for his face as his tingle screamed at him. He couldn’t do his normal moves. He wasn’t in his suit. He needed to act normal.

This was going to hurt.

Peter moved to avoid the worst of the attack. He didn’t move far enough and felt the tip of the knife slice across his cheek. Peter moved in quickly to knee him in the groin before he was able to swing the knife back at him again. It worked. The man doubled over in pain. His grip relaxed on Peter enough that he was able to get him off and take a couple steps back. He’d dropped the knife and was curled up on the ground, groaning. Peter touched the side of his face, his fingers coming away sticky with blood. Great.

He turned and looked around at the people still huddling scared in parts of the shelter. Most looked like they’d been moved back behind the counter, though not everyone had made it. “Is everyone ok? Anyone hurt?”

The door opened and several police officers burst in, holding guns. “Everyone freeze! Don’t move! Hands in the air!”

Peter put his hands up and stayed still. An officer went up to him and saw the blood. “Turn around slowly and put your hands behind your back.”

Peter nodded and complied. He felt the officer put him in cuffs and move him off to the side away from the others. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on with everyone else but figured the police were questioning people. He was sat there for a while, quietly sitting and waiting. Eventually, someone who identified himself as a police chief came to talk with him and get his side of the story.

At the end of his statement, the chief nodded. “Stand up and turn around.”

Peter nodded and got up. He turned around and felt the handcuffs unlock and be removed from his hands. He slowly turned around, rubbing his wrists. “Thanks. So, I’m not getting arrested?”

The chief shook his head. “No. Your story matched up with the others. There’s an ambulance on the way to take you to the hospital.”

“No, no that’s ok. I’m fine,” Peter said quickly. He didn’t want to go to the hospital. For one, he didn’t have the money to pay for a hospital bill. Secondly, he didn’t want to be discovered again. He knew patient confidentiality was a thing and his medical records shouldn’t be shared. But he also knew that a search warrant could get them. And he didn’t exactly want someone to give an anonymous tip to the police that Spider-man might be Peter Parker who was in the hospital. He wasn’t exactly on the good side of the Bats or Gotham PD and wasn’t sure if they’d gotten any samples of his blood from the train incident. He didn’t want to risk it.

The chief sighed. “You at least need to be checked out by the EMT’s. You can refuse transport once they get here.”

Peter nodded. “Ok. Do you mind if I sit down over here while I wait?”

He nodded. “That’s fine. Just don’t go anywhere. Got it.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.”

Chapter 11: Spiders need medicine too

Chapter Text

Of course, something happened while Jason was in the middle of something else.

That something being someone shooting up the soup kitchen and the something else being Jason shooting up a gang in a warehouse. Oh, the irony. He really hoped they weren’t related. He only saw the message after he finished up. He killed some people, crippled others. He threatened the boss that he would come back and kill everyone else, ending with a very slow and painful death for him, should they continue selling meth to kids. His point seemed to have gotten across if the smell of piss coming from the boss had anything to say.

Jason pulled out his phone as he stormed to his bike.

Red Hood: Injuries?

Julia: One man went to the hospital with two bullet wounds. Shooter was punched and was arrested. Teen who hit him got hurt and refused to go to the hospital.

Red Hood: How hurt?

Julia: Shot in the shoulder, cut on the face.

Jason swore, shoving the phone back in his pocket as he jumped on his motorcycle, speeding off to the soup kitchen.

By the time he got there, the police had cleared out and it was closed. Jason parked in the alley and let himself in through the side door. He heard voices and headed to them.

“Sit still.”

“I’m fine. Ah!”

Oh, that voice better f*cking not be who it sounded like.

“You’re not fine. You should be at the hospital.” Julia looked up as Jason entered the room. “Red Hood. You made it.”

Peter was looking up at Jason from where he was sitting in a chair. His shirt was off and it looked like Julia had started bandaging him up. There was a row of butterfly stitches along a long cut across his cheek. Peter was holding a gauze pad up to his shoulder. Julia was working on cleaning and bandaging some rather ragged-looking injuries that were covering basically the rest of Peter’s torso.

“What the hell? Where the f*ck did these come from? You only said there was a gunshot wound and a cut!”

“Don’t take that tone with me. These were not from this,” Julia said, shooting a glare at Jason.

“Obviously,” he said, kneeling down in front of Peter. “The bullet still in your shoulder?”

Peter pressed his hand more firmly against his shoulder. “It’s fine.”

“Shut the f*ck up. If there’s a bullet in your shoulder, then it can move around and f*ck up more sh*t in your shoulder. And you’ve got major arteries which are very close to the heart in there. Let me see your damn shoulder.”

Peter sat there, looking at him, and not moving his hand. “I’m fine. I can take care of it.”

Jason glared at him from under his helmet. “f*cking hell.” He reached up and grabbed Peter’s wrist with one hand and pulled it away from his shoulder. It took a lot more effort than he expected, but he did manage to get his hand away.

The wound was not as bad as it could be. Jason had seen worse, had had worse. But that didn’t mean it was fine. It was still a f*cking bullet wound. And it looked like the bullet was still in there. f*cking hell Peter.

“You need surgery. What’s your name, kid?”

“Peter.”

“Great. I’m taking you to the hospital Peter.”

“No!”

Jason looked Peter in the face. The kid looked scared. “The f*ck you mean, no? You scared of hospitals?”

Peter glanced off for a brief moment. “Something like that. I’m fine. Really. You don’t need to. Besides, I don’t have any money. I can’t afford the hospital bill anyways.”

Yeah, Jason knew that struggle all too well. But he also knew where to go for free care. “This isn’t a question. You’re going to see a doctor, even if I have to drag you there unconscious. Got it?”

Peter looked at him for a moment, his eyes searching the white eyes on Jason’s mask. He could almost see the gears turning in his head before Peter finally sighed, shoulders slumping a bit in defeat. “Fine…”

“Great. Put your shirt on.” Jason stood up and looked at Julia. “Anyone else hurt?”

She shook her head. “Not here. The victim was taken to the hospital. But besides them and the shooter, no. Just a few bumps in the scramble.”

Jason nodded and looked back at Peter who was pulling on a jacket. “Why did you attack a guy with a gun?”

Peter paused and looked up at him. “More people would have gotten hurt if I didn’t.”

Jason sighed. He needed to keep this kid as far away from Bruce as possible. They did not need another kid off the streets in the Batcave. Hopefully, this kid would get his sh*t together and make it back home to New York before Bruce made it back from Milan and recruited him. Though, Jason didn’t actually know when he was supposed to get back. That did make things a little more difficult.

Peter stood up and looked at Jason. “Ok. I’m ready to go.”

“Great. You ever ridden a motorcycle before?”

Peter had planned to try and avoid Red Hood, but it appeared that the Parker luck was not on his side today. This guy was scary. He’d set his tingle off the moment he walked in the door, and it just got more intense the closer he got. And now Peter was sitting, rather uncomfortably, in front of him on a motorcycle. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was partly to keep Peter from attempting to bail off the motorcycle on the way to whatever hospital he was taking him to. Which Peter had been debating, honestly.

But now he was going to a hospital. And Red Hood was going to make sure he went in. The thought scared him. He didn’t want to be found out again. He might not have people attached to him anymore, but that wouldn’t stop the hate to himself. It had been hard enough watching his friends and family be targeted for being close to Spider-man, but at least then he’d had them there to help him. They’d been there to support him, and they’d all had each other to get through it. But now it was just Peter. Just him in a strange city with strange people and no way to contact home. He just wanted his secret to stay a secret. He just wanted people to stop hating him.

He must have gotten lost in his thoughts as he suddenly came back to reality when he felt the bike start to slow down. He looked around, slightly confused. He didn’t see a big hospital building. They turned a corner and a building with a sign out front which read “Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic”. Red Hood stopped the bike outside of it and got off. Peter could feel his eyes boring into him as he got off the bike.

“You’re going in there.”

Peter nodded and took a deep breath, heading for the doors.

Inside looked about how you might expect a small clinic on the not-so-nice side of town to look. The chairs and carpet were brown and the walls were an off-white color. There was a lady sitting at a reception desk at the front. A few people were in the waiting room, sitting in chairs as they waited. Red Hood led Peter up front to reception.

The lady looked up. “Hello. Can I help you?

“Yeah. You wanna tell Dr. Thompkins I have someone with a bullet in his shoulder to see her.” The way Red Hood said it, it didn’t sound like a question. The receptionist seemed to gather that too. She nodded, standing.

“Ok. I’ll let her know but she might not be able to see you right away.”

“Just tell her. Ok?”

She nodded and headed back into the office. Red Hood nodded and steered Peter over to a chair. “Sit.”

Peter sat down, looking around. Red Hood leaned against the wall a couple feet away from him. He seemed to be fiddling with something in his pockets, though the action didn’t cause Peter’s tingle to go off. Probably was some sort of anxiety or stress response. Why would Red Hood be stressed?

The door opened and a middle-aged lady in a white lab coat walked out. She looked over at Red Hood and Peter. “Please tell me you didn’t bring him here on your bike.”

“How else was I supposed to get him here? He didn’t want to come.”

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “That is against several laws but it’s not like that’s stopped you before.” She looked over at Peter. “What’s your name?”

“Peter.”

“Last name?”

“Parker.”

“Ok Mr. Parker. Let’s take a look at you. And don’t give me excuses. Blood's starting to soak through your shirt.”

Peter opened his mouth to argue before closing it. He pointedly ignored Red Hood's chuckle next to him. He needed the bullet out. This would be safer than him doing it on his own. He just hoped he could trust her. Peter let out a heavy sigh and stood up.

“Ok.”

She nodded at Peter before looking over at Red Hood. “Are you staying or heading out?”

“Just going to stay long enough to have a smoke and make sure he doesn’t bolt.”

“How many times-"

“I know Doc. It’ll kill me. I’ll count myself lucky if it’s lung cancer that does me in and not a bullet or a bomb.”

Peter got the distinct impression that he was smirking under the helmet as if he’d told a funny joke. Dr. Thompkins sighed, rubbing her forehead. She muttered under her breath, which Peter likely wasn’t supposed to have heard. “Being a vigilante was bad enough but why did he have to bring kids into it…”

She looked back up at Peter. “Follow me.”

Peter nodded and followed her through the door and into the main part of the clinic. He glanced over his shoulder as the door closed to see Red Hood watching him leave.

Dr. Thompkins led him into an examination room and closed the door. She turned and looked at him. “You got shot and didn’t want to get it treated despite having a bullet in your shoulder. Why?”

“I don’t have any money to pay for it.”

“This is a free clinic. But you’re still on edge.” She waited but continued when Peter didn’t say anything. “I treat the Bats and seemingly half of the criminals in Gotham. If you’re worried about doctor-patient confidentiality, I can guarantee that nothing in here will leave past those doors. Ok?”

Peter slowly relaxed. “Ok.”

“Good. Now why don’t you take off your shirt while you tell me the real reason.”

Because he was Spider-man. And a million and one reasons relating to that fact. What could he tell her that didn’t give him away? Especially if she treated the Bats. He took off his shirt, biting his lip.

“It’s…a long story.”

She sighed and moved closer to look at his shoulder. She gently peeled away the gauze from where it had shifted. Peter hissed slightly as it pulled at the bullet wound.

“Well, the good news is that the bullet hole is not as bad as it could be. Though I don’t know how much it’s rattled around in there. I’ll get you some anesthesia and take it out. Alright.”

“No, wait.” She turned to look at him confused.

“No to what?”

“Anesthesia. It…” he sighed heavily, running one hand through his hair. “It doesn’t work as well on me. When it comes to medication, I need a lot more than a normal person.”

She nodded. “Do you take drugs? No judgment, but I need to know what you’ve taken recently so you don’t die on me.”

“No! No, I don’t do drugs. I-” he took a deep breath, “I have an enhanced metabolism, so I need more of just about anything. Medications, food, anesthesia. I don’t even know how much anesthesia you’d need to knock me out and keep me under.”

She nodded in understanding. “I can see why you’d be nervous. Batman is known for his “no metas in Gotham” rule. He’s not as hard on that as people say, though. I can do the surgery without anesthesia, but it will hurt a lot. And you will feel every moment of it. I can try to give you something to help the pain, but without running tests, which we don’t have time for, I don’t know what your dosage should be.”

Peter nodded. “You have aspirin?”

“I’ve got stuff stronger than aspirin. And you’ll want stronger.”

“I know the rough dosage for aspirin that should work.”

She nodded. “Ok. I’ll get you aspirin. Wait here a moment.” She headed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Peter sighed, putting his head in his hands. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake doing this. He missed home. He wished MJ or Ned were here. He wished they still remembered him. He wished Aunt May was here. He missed her. She always knew what to do. She’d have known who to reach out to in order to get Peter help. He missed Aunt May so much.

The door opened again and he sat up, taking a deep breath in to steady himself. Dr. Thompkins walked in and looked at him. “You doing alright?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Just… a lot on my mind right now.”

She nodded. “Ok. I got a bottle of aspirin. How much do you need?”

Peter held a hand out. She opened the bottle and passed it to him. He dumped out about a handful before passing the bottle back. She looked visibly concerned as she passed him a cup of water and watched him take the meds.

“As your doctor, I should tell you that the amount of aspirin you just took is probably close to the lethal dose.”

Peter nodded. “I know. I’ll be fine. I’ve done this before. It takes about 5 to 10 minutes to kick in. We doing the surgery in here?” he asked, laying down on the table.

“Yes. I’ll get everything prepared.”

“Thanks, doc,” Peter said, looking over at her. She was getting a tray prepared with what she needed. There were several forceps as well as a small tray, gauze, tape, and bandages. She put on a mask and gloves and walked over to Peter, getting her equipment set up.

“You’re sure you want to do this without anesthesia?” He could see the concern etched on her brow.

He nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do this.” He shifted slightly to get as comfortable as possible and looked up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes as Dr. Thompkins turned on the light and began to get to work.

He could feel the metal of the forceps as they touched the edges of his bullet wound. He clenched his jaws, forcing himself to keep his shoulder relaxed. He could feel as she moved through the wound, making her way to the bullet. It hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as it would have been if he had done what he planned to do, which was to pull it out himself at the theater. He kept reminding himself of that.

He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the sound and feeling of metal digging around in his muscles. He felt her grab something and pull. It was sharp and scraped against already hurt and bleeding flesh. He gasped in pain. A metallic clink of something being dropped onto the tray followed the feeling of it scraping past his skin.

“That’s one piece down.”

Peter nodded. “Ok.”

Dr. Thompkins reached back in to make sure she got every piece.

Chapter 12: Plants are not animal-themed vigilantes' friends

Chapter Text

Dr. Thompkins did not let Peter go until she was certain he was not going to die on his way home. By that time, it was getting late and the sun had set at least an hour ago. Peter was tired and his shoulder hurt. The smart thing would be to go home (if he could call the abandoned theater home) and rest.

He was going to do one of those things. Once he figured out where he was and how to get back. He pulled a map Dr. Thompkins had given him out of his pocket and looked at it. It took a couple moments of looking between the map and the street signs to figure out roughly where he was and how to get back. He started walking.

He tried not to attract any attention on his way home. It was night, which meant that the criminals were out. And potentially out in force already. And this was not exactly the nice part of town. Not that the nice part of town was safe, it just tended to have less petty crime. At least from what Peter had picked up so far. This city seemed worse than Detroit. Not that Peter had ever actually been to Detroit, but he was well-versed in memes.

It took about half an hour to get back to the theater. He probably would have made it back sooner if he hadn’t ducked into an alley to avoid a group who caused his tingle to go off hard.

He only stopped inside long enough to eat a couple granola bars and put his suit on before heading back out. He swung around, looking for people in need of help or signs of the Red Hood. The streets seemed quiet around here at least.

He felt his hair rise and quickly changed trajectory to stick to the side of a building. There was a low rumble and he felt the building tremble under him moments after he landed.

“That can’t be good.” There was a loud boom to his right. Peter quickly climbed up to the top of the building, scrambling up next to a gargoyle.

In the distance, there was what looked like a plant of some sort which was burning. Dark smoke was already billowing up, tangling in the branches of a massive tree that was being lit by fires below. A tree that had not been there before. It only took Peter a moment to register what was going on before hurtling himself off the roof and towards the blaze.

Peter’s shoulder screamed but he ignored it. There could be people in that building. And even if it was empty, the blaze could spread to populated areas. Not to mention the tree would make great fuel for the fire if, rather when, it caught. How the hell did it even get there? He was certain that hadn’t been there before. He would remember a giant tree in the middle of a city.

It was luckily a pretty straight shot there. He could hear sirens in the distance as he approached. He could feel the heat as he got within a couple blocks of the plant. And he could smell the smoke.

It wasn’t normal smoke. It was acrid. Breathing it in burned his lungs and it made his eyes water. It was a chemical fire, had to be. At least partly. He landed outside the gates where he could see the remains of a twisted metal sign, overtaken by vines, that confirmed that it was a chemical plant. Just inside the entrance was the backlit form of a woman, just standing there watching the building burn. Peter hurried towards her.

“Ma'am! You need to get away from the fire! It’s not safe!” He skidded to a stop a couple feet away as she turned to face him.

“How cute that you think I’m the one that needs saving.” She started walking towards him, raising her hands up.

Peter felt his tingle rise up his spine as something started to rumble beneath his feet. He jumped, backfliping away from the lady as dark tendrils burst from the ground, reaching for him. He landed on the ground and had to quickly dodge out of the way as more shot towards him, spraying him with dirt. He managed to get a look at one as it passed by his face.

“Roots?”

Peter landed on the side of a branch and looked down. Now that he had the flames at his back, he could see the woman better. She was green with flaming red hair. Also, the only thing she seemed to be wearing was basically a leotard and boots that seemed to be made out of plants. Which was weird but also really cool as well as highly flammable.

“Are those real plants?”

She looked at him, tilting her head at him in curiosity. “They are. You like them?”

“It’s really cool. But you might want to go. Plants and fire don’t exactly mix.”

“I don’t plan on leaving until this place has burned to the ground.” She raised her hands and Peter dropped, shooting off a web as the tree branch below him rippled, new branches sprouting out of it. Ok, so she made this tree. Great.

“Why destroy this place with a giant tree anyways?” he asked, dodging branches that kept coming out of nowhere to try and ensnare him.

“They’re manufacturing herbicides which will be used to kill tens of thousands of plants people deem to be weeds. All because they don’t bear fruit or are useful to them.” She seemed to be getting annoyed with Peter evading her attacks. They were getting more violent. It was taking almost all of his focus to keep dodging all the branches she hurled at him. It didn’t help that it was getting harder for him to breathe because of the toxic smoke.

“But now the chemicals for those herbicides are in the air. Innocent people are breathing it in!”

“No one is innocent.”

The wind changed mid-swing and Peter ended up in the middle of a cloud of smoke. His eyes burned and watered and he coughed as the chemicals burned his airways. She took that moment to strike. Something thick and solid connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Quickly a branch was wrapped around him, squeezing him tight. Peter struggled, trying to get loose, as he was whisked downwards by the tree. He coughed, feeling mucus, he hoped it was mucus, gather in his mask. That was gross. He would have to clean the suit later. The woman lowered Peter and raised herself up so they were at eye level, Peter’s feet dangling in the air.

“You’re an odd little bat,” she said, running a hand down the side of his face. His tingle screamed to get away but there was nowhere to go.

“I’m not one of the bats.”

“Really?” The sound of sirens broke through the air as two firetrucks rounded the corner to arrive on the scene. The woman turned, facing away from Peter and towards the trucks. She lifted her hand to command the plant.

“No!” Peter stopped pushing against the branch to shoot out to webs to catch the large root she began to plunge at the firetruck. He grunted in pain as he tried to reign it in.

She turned sharply to face him, glaring at the interruption. She reached one hand out and flicked. The branch holding Peter suddenly jerked back as the branch in front thrust forward. The force pulled his shoulders hard, causing his injured shoulder to dislocate.

Peter cried out in pain, letting go of the web in that hand. He clung desperately onto the remaining web as it strained against the forces. His shoulder screamed, the pain almost blinding. The muscles in his good arm strained, but Peter could tell that the lack of food was taking its toll. He couldn’t hold on much longer. But he had to. He had to protect people.

The tree tugged once more and with a strangled cry, the web snapped.

Peter watched helplessly as the root pierced into the side of the engine. Firefighters jumped out as the tree began squeezing their truck like toothpaste. He looked over at the green woman, holding his dislocated shoulder.

“Why are you doing this?”

She turned back to him, moving closer. “To send a message.”

Peter’s tingle went off and he gritted his teeth before shoving his shoulder back into place with a determined cry that warped into a cry of pain.

“My, you are a determined one, aren’t you? Let’s see how determined you really are.”

“What?” Suddenly, something dark and splotchy started growing on the branch holding Peter. He struggled, trying to get away, his legs kicking air. Something dry hit his throat, causing it to burn again. He coughed, but that only caused him to breathe more in. He felt his chest tighten and wasn’t sure if that was from panic or whatever she was doing to him. His vision started to fade as she watched him keenly.

Tim landed on a roof across from the burning chemical plant. Dick and Damian landed nearby.

“Fire crews are arriving on scene. Ivy has taken out truck 6 and is working on taking out truck 4. The others are elsewhere around the plant.”

Dick nodded. “We’ll focus on Ivy so the fire trucks can do their job.”

“What’s the status on Hood?” Tim asked.

“I’ll get there when I can!” Jason’s voice sounded strained and Tim was sure he heard him punch a guy.

“Ok. Us three for now. We can handle this, just keep her busy and away from the trucks. And don’t get kissed.”

“That will not be a problem,” Damian said, looking down. Tim looked over the scene and paused.

“Hold on. Look there, on the tree branch.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, looking where Tim was pointing. His eyes widened once he saw what it was. “Spiderman.”

“That’s going to complicate things.” Tim looked at the two figures below them. “Nightwing, why don’t you focus on Spiderman. Robin and I will focus on Ivy. Hood, just don’t shoot us when you get here.”

Dick nodded, standing. “Let’s go.”

The three shot grappling hooks at the tree and swung towards their targets. Spiderman's head snapped up to look at them as they approached. Ivy looked up at Tim and Damian as they approached, looking almost startled. Why did she seem startled? She had to have known they would show up when she grew a giant tree out of a chemical plant.

Tim released his grappling hook and fell at Poison Ivy, aiming to land with a heavy kick to the face. She moved backwards away from them. Damian landed next to Tim, sword out, and charged.

Roots sprung up from the ground at them. Tim dodged to the right. He could see Damian slashing at them with his sword with moderate effectiveness.

“Children should be home in bed,” Ivy said as she tried to snare Tim in some vines. He jumped to try and dodge, managing to avoid most of them. Keyword being most. One of them wrapped around his ankle. Not good. He hit it with his staff, trying to wriggle his way out. Suddenly, the grip loosened. Tim pulled his foot free and leapt out of the way, looking back over at Ivy in preparation for her next attack. Her brows were furrowed slightly.

A red blur flew over Tim's head, followed by a black and blue one as Nightwing and Spiderman fought.

Peter did not like this one bit.

He could feel the tickle in his mind of someone else’s thoughts in his head. It was causing his tingle to go off. He especially didn’t like that these intruder’s thoughts were the ones currently in control of his body.

The thoughts told him to fight Nightwing, so he did.

They started on the branch Peter had been trapped in. Nightwing stabbed and slashed at him with his electrified escrima sticks and Peter backed up to dodge or parried to move in and kick or punch. They were just moving back and forth across the branch. Honestly, it was rather boring for Peter. There was so much more branch and space he could be utilizing but no! This lady was limiting him to one plane.

Part of the tree caught fire and a branch fell towards them. Instincts took over and Peter leapt off the branch, reaching out and catching a web on another mostly stable branch. He could feel his mind returning to himself as he swung through the air over the heads of the three on the ground. That meant this mind control thing wasn’t absolute. He could fight it, and win.

He pulled himself up onto the bottom of a branch and looked around. The green lady was fighting Red Robin and Robin. Hu, it looks like he did use a sword. Cool.

His tingle went off, reminding him of Nightwing who was about to try and hit him. He dropped, letting go of the branch. He heard Nightwing gasp as he dropped out below him. Peter turned in the air, reaching up to web the bottom of the branch. He looked at the green lady. He needed to take her out. She couldn’t mind control him if she was unconscious. He could feel her fighting to take over his mind again.

Something flew through the air over his head and he got a sinking feeling. Whatever it was cut through his web. “Uh, oh.” He tumbled down to the ground, feeling his mind slipping away from himself again. Damn it.

Dick dropped down as carefully as possible as he watched Spiderman drop after Tim’s batarang cut through his web. He didn’t drop very gracefully and rolled off to the side. He headed towards Damian.

Dick pulled out a batarang and threw it at Spiderman. He saw him flinch before the batarang got to him. Since Babs had pointed it out, he’d thought to look for it since he was fighting him again. She was right. But something held him back this time as the batarang made contact, sticking into his back near his shoulder blade. He gasped in pain, reaching back towards it. Dick hurried to move in before he got his hands on the batarang. He didn’t want him to try and use it against them. A large root sprung up from the ground between him and Spiderman, spraying them both with dirt. It also blocked Spiderman from sight.

“Woah!” Dick dropped to slide under the root, springing up quickly on the other side. Spiderman had gotten the batarang out and was holding it. A drop of blood dripped off the tip of one sharp wing. “That’s gross.”

Spiderman lunged.

Something was up with Ivy. Tim had fought her before and she wasn’t acting how she usually did. Something was distracting her, and it wasn’t the fire trucks. Tim threw several of his batarangs at her. He was trying to keep his distance.

Luckily, the constant tree roots were helping keep him away, for now. They were also making it harder to try and hit her. Damian was having a bit more luck hacking away with his sword.

“Hood! Anytime would be nice.”

“I’m on my way. Jesus.”

Tim gritted his teeth and pulled out his grappling hook, shooting it at a branch above him. He rose up, throwing more batarangs at Ivy. This time he managed to hit her with one, slicing down her arm.

Ivy's gaze turned sharply up towards Tim, one hand pressing against her arm. He could see the winces of pain in her face as she raised her arm towards him. The wood above him creaked dangerously. Tim looked up to see new branches growing out of the tree, winding their way down the line of his grappling hook.

“sh*t!” Tim let go, his cape flaring out behind him as he fell. His feet hit the ground, his knees bending to absorb the shock. He pitched forward, rolling away and narrowly avoiding some roots that threatened to snare him. He popped up on one knee, fighting off the plants with his staff. Two roots grabbed at his staff. Tim collapsed his staff to avoid the attack.

Roots shot towards him, grabbing at his limbs and clothes as he dove to the side, trying to get out of the way. Several twisted tightly around his arms as another shot at his torso. The root hit hard, the force knocking the wind out of him. His shoulder collided painfully with the ground, jamming his arm into its socket. Constricting roots crawled across his body, limiting his movement. He could feel them tightening across his chest, making each breath harder and harder.

A brightly colored blur swooped in front of him. The roots began to fall off and loosen as Damian slashed through them with his sword. Tim quickly scrambled, pulling the plants off his body. He pulled a small knife out of his utility belt and used it to cut through some of the roots that were much closer to his body. As soon as he could, he pushed himself up to his feet. His staff popped out to full size as Tim shifted one foot back into a fighting stance, glaring at Ivy.

Something roared closer from the distance.

Chapter 13: Turning the Tide

Chapter Text

Jason was breaking so many traffic laws.

He wasn’t really worried about getting into an accident. It would be almost comical if a car accident was what killed him a second time. You know, apart from the whole dying bit. No, Jason was very used to speeding through the streets of Gotham. And right now, he had a very good reason to be speeding.

He could see the giant tree looming ever closer as he sped towards it. The acrid smoke rising from the destruction even further. They’d be lucky if they didn’t get any acid rain from all the sh*t in the air. The one good thing was that the fumes were keeping most people off the streets, meaning he could go even faster.

He started slowing down as he got closer. He did not want to hit a tree root going 50. As he approached, he could see two firetrucks that had been destroyed by Ivy’s roots. She’d also torn down sections of fence, intentionally or not, which gave Jason a perfect way in. He revved his engine before tearing through a gap in the twisted fence.

To his right were Tim and Damian fighting Ivy, but straight ahead was Dick fighting Spiderman. Jason headed straight for the mysterious spider that was trying to slice Dick. He froze and turned to look at Jason. Jason drove straight at him.

The f*cker jumped.

Not jumped to the side like a sane person, which Jason was expecting and had been preparing to grab him if he dove away from Dick. No, this son of a bitch jumped straight into the air like a f*cking jackrabbit. Jason reached up to grab his ankle, and he had contact for a split second before he slipped from his fingers.

Jason turned his bike sharply, spraying dirt as he stopped. Dick got a nice splattering. Spiderman was now swinging from the branches of the tree straight towards Damian, Tim, and Poison Ivy. Yeah, he was not letting him get to those two. He pulled out his gun and fired several shots at Spiderman.

Spiderman flinched and moved to one side. Jason could tell he had hit his mark at least once. He jerked in an almost unnatural way before dropping to the ground. Spiderman turned sharply to look at Jason. The whites of the mask's eyes narrowed, focusing in on Jason as Hellfire reflected in his eyes.

“Come on mother f*cker. Let's dance.” He pointed his guns at Spiderman.

Getting shot in the same shoulder twice in one day was not fun. He could feel another wound on his arm, though it was not as bad. That one had grazed him. The one in his shoulder screamed in pain. He felt like the impact of the bullet might have caused fractures on his shoulder blade. The pain from it had caused him to lose concentration long enough for him to lose control again. The lady controlling him obviously did not care about his physical state as his body rushed forward towards Red Hood.

He watched helplessly as he punched Red Hood, the pain shredding each attempt at regaining control as his hit was blocked. He was able to deflect and move out of the way of Red Hood's shot at his stomach. His body did not move fast enough to avoid Nightwing's electrified stick contacting his back.

Peter screamed in pain, short and gasping. His back arched and he felt his legs give out from under him. His tingle yelled in warning and Peter raised his arm to block the blow from Nightwing. Two more followed in swift succession, pushing Peter over. An armored knee rose up to meet his head on its way down. Spots flashed in front of his eyes. He felt his mind regain control as the puppeteer dropped control. Peter went limp, his body objecting to trying to work under these conditions. He vaguely heard a voice call out. The two men over him turned. Peter’s tingle went off and he flinched as he heard Red Hood’s gun go off again. Pain flashed through his leg as a bullet tore through his calf.

“Seriously?”

“What? I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere.”

There was a heavy sigh as footsteps, one heavier than the other, hurried away from him and in the direction of the rest of the fight. Peter tried taking deep breaths. Acrid smoke filled his lungs causing him to cough heavily. The motion caused so much pain. His shoulder screamed in pain. He’d almost certainly ripped open the old bullet wound from earlier that evening. Not to mention the new bullet bouncing around in the back of his shoulder. At least the two other bullet wounds went straight through the muscle. Still not great, but there was an exit wound.

Peter shakily raised his head. He could see four figures fighting the green lady. Roots and fallen branches, many still on fire, littered the ground around him. Something creaked above him. He turned to look up at the sprawling branches of the great tree, illuminated by the fire that was making its way up the trunk. The canopy had already caught fire in several places likely from embers carried up by the smoke. A large limb above him was burning. And it was breaking under its own weight. If it fell, it would easily crush Peter.

He needed to move. Now.

He pushed himself up with shaking arms, forcing his good leg under him. “Stable point. Stable point. Give me something- there!” He gritted his teeth as his weight shifted onto his injured shoulder so he could reach up, launching a web at a light pole that was still standing, though it wasn’t lit. The web caught and he pulled himself towards it. The branches creaked dangerously above him before loud cracks rent the air.

His tingle went off hard. He needed to move farther, now. Adrenaline rushed through his system, pushing the pain aside in favor of not dying (again). He shot another web off at the base of the tree, using the two of them to pull himself away from the falling limb. Branches and sticks rained down around him, many dangerously close. Instincts took over as he ducked and swerved as fast as his injuries would let him. He heard the giant limb crashing into the ground behind him. Sticks and shrapnel pelted him as he hurried to the fence line, launching himself on top of it. Peter turned, looking behind him.

Leaves were cascading through the air, mixing with bright embers. The branches of the great limb waved as it settled where it fell. Peter’s eyes scanned through the burning destruction to where the five figures had been fighting. Were they alive? Were they stuck under the tree? Peter wasn’t exactly in prime condition to be lifting gargantuan limbs, but if anyone was trapped… he couldn’t just sit by when he could help. Even if the person was someone who might have shot him or mind-controlled him.

A flash of red caught his eye. Red Hood made it. He was scrambling over branches, seemingly angry. Soon, the blue symbol across Nightwing’s chest was visible. It didn’t take too long for Peter to spot the bright colors of Red Robin and Robin carrying an unconscious-looking green woman.

Peter let out a breath. They were alive. The green lady hopefully was at least. But she was at least in their care. Peter didn’t need to try and help, especially considering that none of them seemed to like him, which meant him going in to help might make it worse. There wasn’t anything else he could do here. It was time to leave it to the professionals. Firefighters and police could take care of the scene from here.

Peter turned away from the plant and swung off into the night.

“Where the f*ck is he?” Jason bellowed, kicking the great big tree branch angrily. It didn’t really hurt, as he had steel-toed boots, but it didn’t feel great. “He was right f*cking here! And it’s not like he could have just gotten up and walked away because I shot him in the knee!”

“Calm down Hood. We’ll find him. He can’t have gone far. He might be under the tree somewhere.”

“Yeah, as a nice red smear on the ground.”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “Let’s look around. I’m sure we’ll find something.”

Jason flung his arms out in frustration. “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing, Big Bird? Twiddling my thumbs?” he asked, doing an exaggerated thumb-twiddling motion just to annoy Dick. He could see his eyes roll, even under the opaque whites of his mask.

“Hey! If you two are done bickering, we should probably leave. Ivy’s on her way back to Arkham and the sooner we get out of here, the sooner fire trucks can move in. Not to mention that there is a giant burning tree over our heads and the air is literally trying to kill us!” Jason and Dick both turned to look at Tim who was glaring at them.

Dick raised his hands in surrender. “Ok Red, calm down. We’re coming. If Spiderman’s still here, I’m sure the fire department will find him and we’ll hear about it.”

“And if he’s not?” Jason growled as they walked towards Tim.

“We’ll worry about that later. He can’t have gotten far with his injuries.”

Peter landed outside of Dr. Thompkins’ clinic. And by landed, he meant crash landed, basically tumbling onto the doorstep. The lights were still on which was amazing. Peter painfully pushed himself up onto his feet, using the side of the building for support. He could hear voices talking inside. He steadied himself before turning the doorknob.

“-take it easy on that arm, alright. You said you were working for Mr. Freeze currently? Need a doctor’s note?”

A man chuckled. “Sure doc, I’ll do my best. Don’t think the bats listen to doctor's notes though.”

“If Red Hood gives you trouble, let me know and I’ll give him a talking to.”

Peter pushed the door the rest of the way open and stumbled in. The two stopped talking almost immediately.

“Oh sh*t! That’s- is that all blood?” A guy with his arm in a sling asked, looking at him very concerned.

Dr. Thompkins looked at Peter, quickly moving towards him. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”

“I need help. Please.” His voice sounded weaker than he wanted. Dr. Thompkins moved to support him.

“Bill, give me a hand over here. Help me get him into a room.”

“You got it doc.” The guy, Bill, moved to support Peter’s other side.

“This way.” Peter was led through the doors into the clinic where he’d been only hours ago. He was led into a room and laid down on an operating table.

“Think he’s going to be ok?” Bill asked.

Dr. Thompkins nodded. “I think so. Now go home and get some rest.”

“You got it doc.” Bill looked at Peter and gave him an encouraging smile. “You’re in good hands.”

Peter nodded and watched him leave.

“Ok, in order to treat you, I need to get you out of this suit. I can promise complete confidentiality.”

Peter nodded, waving away the rest of what she was about to say. “I know, you told me earlier.” He reached up and pulled off his mask. A flash of emotions ranging from surprise to disappointment and resignation flashed across her face.

“I would say I was happy to see you again but that would be a lie.” She moved to get her tools while Peter started to peel off his suit. “Looks like we get to start figuring out your dosages now. I just hope I don’t accidentally kill you.”

“I’ve got faith in you doc.”

“Good. What’s your blood type?”

“Red.”

“Very helpful Peter.” She sighed and headed over to the door, looking at him. “I’m going to get some O- blood. That at least shouldn’t kill you.”

Peter nodded and watched her leave. He painfully sat up, pulling off his suit. There was a new hole in his shoulder along with a tear on his arm. He’d need to get sewing materials to patch that up. Great. And his suit definitely needed cleaning. Double great. Couldn’t just go to the dry cleaners for that one. Not that Peter had the money to afford dry cleaners.

Getting the bottom part off was going to be so much worse. He gritted his teeth as he shifted to wriggle out of his suit. Pain shot through him from the bullet wound in his leg, causing him to gasp in pain.

“Damn it, you should have waited for me to return.” Dr. Thompkins hurried in with one of those rolling medical hangers that had a bag of blood and some IVs hanging from it. She moved to his side and helped him get out of his suit. “What did you get yourself into, Peter? You were supposed to be resting.”

“I heard an explosion and suddenly there was a giant tree. I had to go help.”

“Explains a lot of the smaller wounds but not the new two bullet wounds I see.”

“Three.”

“Where?”

“Back of the shoulder.”

She moved to look at his back. “The same shoulder too?” She shook her head disappointedly. “Ivy doesn’t use guns, so who shot you?”

“Red Hood.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised.” She sighed. “Did she kiss you? Did you inhale any spores?”

Peter startled, which hurt a lot. “Kiss me? What? No?”

“Good. Because if she did, you’d probably be dead.”

“What!”

“Poison lipstick. Now spores. Did you inhale any?”

“I think so. The air was also full of toxic fumes.”

She shone a light in his eyes. Peter blinked, squinting. It was bright and hurt his eyes. She didn’t have the patience for that and held open one eyelid. “Well, the good news is you don’t appear to be under mind control currently.”

“Mind control?” he asked, blinking as she let go of his face and turned off the light.

“Yes. Ivy has mind control spores. I’ll give you a fungicide. Hopefully, that will help remove any spores left in your system. Now let me see your arm, I need to get the IV set up.”

“There was no sign of him?” Dick asked again.

Commissioner Gordon shook his head. “Spiderman wears a bright red and blue suit. Even if he had been consumed by the fire, there are metal parts on his suit which would be enough to identify the body if he was dead. I’m telling you, there was no body. All that we could find was some blood traces.”

“Enough for DNA testing?”

“Not sure yet. Sent what we had to the lab, but it may be some time before we get anything back. We’ve got frankly more pressing cases ahead of them.”

“We could test them.” Dick offered. “We have the technology.”

“I know you do, Nightwing. Batman has some of the best-funded technology in all of Gotham. The problem is that even if I had enough blood to give to you, this becomes a federal matter because of the plant Ivy blew up. My hands are tied.”

Dick sighed. “Understood.”

“If he was as injured as you say he was, try checking the hospitals.”

Chapter 14: The itsy bitsy spider is a security concern

Chapter Text

Peter lay on the table, breathing slowly. Doctor Thompkins had him resting with an IV hooked up now that he was out of surgery. He was getting a wonderful mix of fresh blood, high-strength pain meds, and some nutrients. They were helping take the edge off of the pain that was filling his entire body. Though it was probably a lower dose for Peter, it was as much as she was comfortable giving him.

He turned his head to the side to look at where his suit was hanging up. Even from here, he could see the darker stains where his blood was soaked into the fabric. Cleaning that was going to be fun later. He would need to find soap. He needed a job.

There was a knock at the door before Dr. Thompkins walked in. She closed the door softly behind her. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. A little tired.”

“I would expect so. Now, I expect you to stay out of trouble until you heal. Understood?” Her tone sent a shiver down his spine. He got the feeling he would get more than a stern look and a talking to if he showed up with new injuries before he healed up. Luckily, he tended to heal fast. If he could get enough to eat and rest. He really needed a job.

He nodded. “Yup. Understood. I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble. Spider-man will be resting for a little while.”

“Good. I’ll be watching the news so don’t think I won’t know if you try anything.”

“Promise. I’ll-" He cut himself off as a tingle of warning shot through him. Dr. Thompkins’ brows knit together in worry.

“Peter, what-" She got cut off by the sound of hurried footsteps and a knock at the door. She headed to the door and opened it a crack. With the way the door opened, Peter was completely obscured from view. As was the person on the other side to him, but they didn’t set off his tingle.

“Red Hood and Red Robin are here. Red Robin looks injured. But they’re asking about Spider-man.”

Peter saw Dr. Thompkins’ back tense slightly before she exited the room, closing and locking the door behind her. “I’ll talk to them. You didn’t say he was here, did you?”

“No. Of course not. Just said I’d get you.”

“Good.” Peter could hear their footsteps retreat quickly down the hall.

He pushed himself up to sitting before painfully getting off the table. If Red Hood and Red Robin were looking for him, he didn’t want to be caught by surprise. He grabbed the wheeled hanger with the IV attached and started moving. He grabbed his suit first and looked around. Hopefully, Dr. Thompkins wouldn’t be too mad at him for this. He opened the nearest cabinet. There were all sorts of stuff in here. He looked through it quickly, moving several objects so he could shove his suit in. A bottle fell over but thankfully didn’t spill. He shoved everything back in and closed the cabinet. Peter looked at the door before deciding to head over to it. He pressed his ear and good shoulder against it. He doubted, or at least hoped, Red Hood wouldn’t break down the door, but he would try and stop him if he tried.

“He’s dangerous!”

“So are both of you.”

“Yes. But he’s an unknown agent. We don’t know who he’s working for or if he has an agenda.”

“That doesn’t matter. Patient confidentiality is a legal matter, and I will not be discussing any potential patient’s medical history without a warrant. Especially with the people I treat. Which, may I remind you, includes both of you here. So, trying to legally force the medical history of a patient who might not even be here with a warrant could open up the possibility of the same thing happening to either of you.” There was silence at her words. She had a very strong tone, sounding a bit like the mom voice Aunt May used to use on Peter. Or more like Tony really. Peter was reminded of a certain uncomfortable instance on a rooftop. He listened more closely.

One of the vigilantes sighed. “We’re just trying to protect Gotham.”

“I know. But do so the way you normally do. And I better not find you trying to hack my records. Tell Oracle that too. Or I won’t treat you. Got it.”

“Les-"

“Don’t Les me. I’m serious about patient confidentiality. That’s why you and others trust me to take care of you. I don’t break the rules.”

There was a long, tense moment of silence before Peter heard what sounded like Red Robin speak. “Ok. We’ll head back. But we are serious about him being dangerous.”

“And I can take care of myself. I’ll walk you out.”

Peter let out a heavy sigh as he heard the footsteps moving away from him and through a door. He sank to the floor, trembling slightly in relief. Possibly also from blood loss and pain. And the bullet wound in his leg. Yeah, probably those too.

He wasn’t sure exactly how long he had been sitting there on the ground. He was tired, and the cool of the floor and the metal doorframe were soothing. It was only the sound of the door unlocking that jostled him back to reality.

The door opened partway before bumping into Peter before he could move. It stopped as soon as it felt resistance, closing slightly. Dr. Thompkins’s head poked around the doorframe and looked down at him concerned.

“Everything alright?”

He nodded weakly. “Yeah. Just sat here to block the door in case Red Hood tried to get in.”

“You thought that you, with your injured shoulder, injured arm, injured leg, and over a dozen other smaller injuries, would take on a man with about 100 pounds on you. Who, might I add, is not nearly as injured as you are.” She did not sound impressed.

“I’m stronger than I look,” Peter offered.

She sighed. “Come on. Let’s get you up and back on the table to rest. Ok?”

Peter nodded. “Ok.” He let her help him up and get up on the table. He took a minute to try and get comfortable. At least as comfortable as he could with his injuries.

“Now you are going to get some sleep, alright? Doctor’s orders. Don’t make me sedate you.”

Peter chuckled a little. “It would take a lot of sedatives.”

She smiled a little. “Goodnight Peter.”

“Goodnight, Dr. Thompkins.”

She smiled softly and headed out of the room, turning off the light as she left. He heard the soft click of the lock and relaxed. He should be safe, at least for tonight.

“He was at Dr. Thompkins’s clinic? You’re sure?” Dick asked, leaning on a table.

“I didn’t see him, but he was there. She was covering for him.” Jason growled. Tim watched as he stalked back and forth across the cave. Or, at least across this section of the cave. It was a rather large cave.

“I can confirm. Based on Dr. Thompkins’s actions, Spiderman was almost certainly at the clinic. However, she was very insistent on the patient confidentiality front. And her point of us trying to legally force her could then lead others to try that same thing with us. It’s not exactly a secret that we go to her for treatment. Especially you, Hood. I don’t think I need to state how bad for any of us it would be if someone got the idea to execute a search warrant for our medical history. Most of us have some form of open case, or a cold case that could be reopened by someone on the force who doesn’t particularly like us. There are enough crooked cops that one might just do it.”

Tim watched the expressions of his siblings. Jason still had his helmet on, but the glower was radiating off of him in waves like a tsunami. Dick was quiet and contemplative. Tim could see a weight to his look. He may be the golden child, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t done some things in his past that he regretted. Damian looked very deep in thought.

“Maybe it’s time to call B.”

Jason stopped pacing and looked at Dick. “What?”

“Look, Ivy’s attack is going to make the news. He’s going to see it. We’re just delaying the inevitable by avoiding it and he’ll be angrier the longer we wait.”

“I still say we should have told Father sooner.”

“We had it handled earlier.”

“Tt.”

Tim waved his hands to clear the air. “We’ll tell him. What time is it in Milan right now?”

“Breakfast,” Babs' voice came from over the Batcomputer speakers.

Dick pulled out his phone and sent a text. “Let’s see how-" his phone rang almost immediately. Dick swallowed hard before answering, putting the phone on speaker. “Hey B.”

“What happened?” That was his Batman voice.

“There’s a guy going by the name Spiderman that showed up in Gotham two days ago. We didn’t call you sooner since we had the situation handled.” Damian tt’ed but Dick ignored it and plowed on, “But last night there was an incident at a chemical plant with Poison Ivy. Spiderman was involved and may have been working with her.”

The other side of the line was silent for some time as Bruce absorbed the information. The silence didn’t sound happy.

“What activity has he been up to since his appearance?”

“He first showed up holding a metal ball about the size of a basketball. That hasn’t resurfaced yet. He then showed up at the sight of a train crash while we were investigating. Was dodgy with his answer as to why he was there. Also, he has some sort of tech suit. Not sure if he’s connected to Lex Luther, but I haven’t been able to find anything yet. It allows him to stick to walls and climb on ceilings. Then there’s the whole incident with the chemical plant. He and Ivy appeared to be working together,” Tim said, summing up the events with Spiderman. B would get everything once he was back in Gotham.

There was a heavy sigh from Batman’s end. “Any leads on anything connected to him?”

“No. He claims he’s a well-known superhero from New York and that he’s been on national news. But he doesn’t show up anywhere. We’ve checked,” Dick said, waving a hand.

“As far as I can tell, he didn’t exist prior to his mysterious appearance two nights ago,” Oracle chimed in.

“Are we certain he was working with Ivy of his own volition and not under the influence of her mind control spores?”

Everyone froze and looked at each other, no one speaking for a long moment.

“Mother f*cker.” Jason ran a hand down his helmet.

“It’s a possibility,” Dick admitted. “He disappeared after a limb fell.”

“He should have stayed put considering I shot him in the leg!”

“And if he didn’t, he might have died, and we wouldn’t have any answers. Corpses aren’t exactly the best conversationalists.”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty talkative.” Tim didn’t need to see Jason’s face to know he was smirking as all of them groaned in response to his quip.

“Were you able to locate him after?” Bruce asked, his tired dad voice creeping into his words.

“He had to have gone to Leslie’s clinic. We didn’t actually see him, but that’s got to be where he went,” Jason said.

“She said that we would need a warrant in order to get patient medical records, including if someone was a patient. She also threatened that if we went that route, someone might try the same thing on us.”

“Any other news to report?”

“Ivy’s back in custody. Chemical plant was a complete loss but the fire’s contained now. But we’ll have to see if there’s any lasting impacts on the residents from the toxins released into the air.”

Bruce sighed. “Understood. I will be back soon.” There was a click as he hung up.

Jason sighed. “Fan-f*cking-tastic.”

“I still think we should have informed Father earlier.”

“Of course, you f*cking would.”

“Don’t swear at Robin.”

“f*ck off Dickie-bird.”

Tim sighed and turned in his chair to face the computer. He didn’t know how long his siblings would possibly fight, but he was going to keep on trying to research this mysterious Spiderman. There had to be something out there. It’s not like this guy could have just appeared out of thin air.

Right?

Chapter 15: Doctor threatened rest

Chapter Text

Peter’s eyes slowly opened, blinking as light filtered in through the blinds on the window. He was feeling better. Still hurt, but it wasn’t as bad. He slowly eased himself up into a sitting position, wincing as he did. He put a hand to his shoulder. He was going to have to hold off on web swinging for a few days at least.

Well, he could check on his job applications at the library and see about volunteering at the soup kitchen. That should at least keep him fed. At least he hoped so. He’d still be working on a low level of starvation due to his metabolism. He could probably work on cleaning up parts of the theater.

He winced slightly thinking about the climb up the side of the building. That was going to hurt.

There was a soft knock at the door, startling him from his thoughts. “Yeah?” he asked, looking at the door.

The door opened and Dr. Thompkins walked in. “Oh good, you’re awake. Sleep well?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I slept alright. Thanks.”

“Great. I’ll get you something to eat for breakfast then I want to check up on your shoulder.”

Peter nodded. “Ok. Thanks, doc.”

She smiled and headed back out of the room. Peter let out a low sigh and looked out the window. Dr. Thompkins was really nice. She didn’t need to help him as much as she did. Not to say he didn’t appreciate the help immensely, he did! But she had plenty of reasons not to help him.

But it was nice to know that, no matter if he was Peter or Spider-man, he had at least one person in this city he could count on to help him.

He was startled back to reality as the door opened again. Peter tensed up, ready to try and fight the intruder if need be. He slowly relaxed as he realized that it was only Dr. Thompkins with breakfast. She handed him a tray with some cereal, a small thing of yogurt, and an orange with a glass of milk. He took it.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Peter started eating as Dr. Thompkins got out fresh dressings.

“I want to give you a full checkup while you’re here. Figure out if there are any less obvious injuries. Anything internal.”

Peter nodded, swallowing before he answered. “Ok. That sounds good.”

“Finish eating first.”

Peter nodded and ate his breakfast. It was good, though he didn’t savor it. He was starving. It didn’t fill him up, but it helped a lot. He could see Dr. Thompkins looking at him worried but trying not to be too obvious about it.

“All done?”

He nodded. “Yes. Thank you for the food. Really.”

“I have to take care of my patients, don’t I?” she said with a smile, taking the tray and setting it to the side. Peter smiled back. She put gloves on and set to checking, cleaning, and redressing Peter’s wounds. Peter closed his eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to focus on staying still and not on the pain.

Once she was done and his wounds were dealt with, he sat back up on the table and watched her put her tools away.

The checkup went well. Or at least, it started well. She took some blood samples so she could test them later to see if she could figure out dosages for medications for him. Peter really appreciated it. It was when she got to checking his eyes that she paused. Peter tried really hard not to blink as she shined the light back and forth between his eyes.

“That’s really bright.”

She lowered the light. “Are your eyes sensitive to light?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Bit of a downside. Same with hearing.”

She nodded, but Peter could see that something was worrying her.

“Is something wrong with my eyes?”

“I’m not sure, but your pupils aren’t responding normally. I’m concerned there might be some head trauma. Have you hit your head recently?”

Peter paused, thinking back over the past few days. “I think I got hit in the head a few times a few days ago. Right before I came here, actually. And I might have gotten kneed in the head last night. Probably hit it in the train crash a couple days ago too.”

She sighed, rubbing her face. “Ok. Look, I want to run an MRI to check. Is there any reason that may be an issue for you?”

“It’s got the big magnets, right?”

“Yes. And it’s very loud.”

“Really loud?”

“I’ll give you hearing protection.”

Peter took a deep breath. “Ok. If you think I need it, then ok.”

“Great. Let’s get that going.”

Peter hated the MRI. It was an old machine and insanely loud, even through the earplugs and headphones that he’d stuffed cotton balls into for extra protection. It hurt. He had a headache by the end of it but didn’t tell Dr. Thompkins to stop. Maybe it could explain what was going on. Dr. Thompkins gave him some water as he sat up.

“Drink this. It might be a few hours before I can go over everything in your MRI. Depends partly on how busy the clinic is today.”

Peter took the water and drank it. “Thanks, Doc. Is it ok if I head out and come back later to check on the results?” He wanted to know what was wrong, but he was getting antsy staying here. And he was worried about Red Hood coming back for him.

Dr. Thompkins frowned slightly. “I would prefer if you stayed here.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” Peter promised. “I just hate sitting still. I’ll put the suit at home and not put it on at all. I wanted to check on some stuff at the library and the soup kitchen.”

Dr. Thompkins looked at him for a long moment. “I need you to swear to me that you’re not going to go swinging around Gotham or poking your nose into business that it doesn’t belong in.”

“I promise. No Spider-man until I’ve healed up.” He didn’t specify how healed he would be, and he suspected she noticed. But he was planning on resting for at least a day or two.

She sighed. “Fine. Just try not to reopen any of your wounds. I don’t want you dragging yourself back in here bloody later tonight. Got it?”

Peter nodded. “I hear you loud and clear.”

She nodded. “I’ll get you some clean clothes. We always have some spares that get donated so don’t even try and refuse them.”

Peter had opened his mouth to do just that but closed it. Honestly, he needed the clothes. It wasn’t like he could just walk back to the firehouse in the Spider-man suit or in the hospital gown. He slowly nodded. “Ok. Thanks again Doc.”

She nodded. “Let’s get you back to your room first.”

Peter hopped off the MRI table and followed Dr. Thompkins back to his room. He retrieved his suit from where he’d hidden it in the cabinet the night before. He could also work on repairing his suit while he was resting and not being Spider-man. He folded it up and set it on the bed. It didn’t take long for Dr. Thompkins to come back with a set of clothes that fit Peter well enough. He thanked her profusely and promised he didn’t plan on pulling any stitches between now and this evening.

It appeared to be nearing midday as Peter headed out of the clinic. That gave him plenty of time to get stuff done. First things first, he needed to get his suit that was currently hidden under his shirt back to the theater. Luckily it wasn’t far and since it was light out, it was a lot less likely that someone was going to try and jump him. The possibility still wasn’t zero, but it was a hell of a lot better than last time he’d walked back from the clinic.

Climbing up the wall did hurt like absolute hell though.

He made it in and tucked his suit into the corner. He took a couple of the granola bars he’d gotten from the food pantry and shoved them in his pocket before heading back out.

Peter trudged his way to the nearest subway station and headed down the stairs. He made sure the guards weren’t looking before jumping over the turnstiles and heading down to the tracks. The blue line was still down at the end where it crashed. Peter wondered how long it would take to reopen the station.

He let himself get shunted along with the rest of the midday crowd into the car once it arrived. He even managed to get a seat and sat looking out the window as he waited for his stop. The ride was uneventful, thankfully. Peter was glad that the group at one end of the car who appeared to be gang members didn’t try anything. He really did not want to upset Dr. Thompkins again. He didn’t think she was opposed to locking him in her clinic.

He got off at the stop closest to the library and walked the few blocks there, heading in. He saw Babs sitting behind the computer at the desk and smiled, waving at her. “Hi, Babs.”

She smiled, looking up at him. “Hello, Peter. How are you doing?” There was a flicker of worry in her look.

Peter smiled reassuringly. “Doing ok. Just wanted to borrow a computer.”

“Go right on ahead.”

“Thanks.” He made his way to the computers and sat down at one and logged in. He checked his email. There were a couple emails waiting for him. Two of his job applications were rejected. He sighed. He might as well submit a few more applications while he was here.

He clicked through a few pages of job listings, submitting applications to a couple places. It was hard with no way to contact his references, due to them basically all being dead or not knowing that he even existed. And in another universe. But there were a couple jobs that didn’t really seem to care about that. He’d been at the computer for at least an hour, maybe two, when he paused on a listing.

He’d brushed past several from Wayne Enterprises job listings already, but this one caught his eye. It was part of Wayne Technologies, a position listed as ‘development engineer assistant’. He clicked on it to see the full description.

Honestly, it seemed perfect for Peter. It was an assistant engineer position in the research and development branch of Wayne Technologies working with experimental technology. The job was entry level. And there was one line that stood out to Peter under the requirements.

Bachelor’s degree in Engineering or equivalent experience.

Peter didn’t have a bachelor’s degree, that had kind of gone out the window when everyone forgot he existed. But equivalent experience. He had that. Peter knew he was as good, if not better, than anyone with a Batchelor’s. If he could just prove that he had the experience, he just might be able to get the job.

With renewed vigor, he started filling out the application. He listed the Stark Internship and some examples of experience. Wayne Enterprises did ask for references. That gave Peter pause. He thought back to the call with the random old guy on the phone when he’d tried to call Happy or Pepper Potts. Whoever he put on here as his contact wouldn’t actually be who they contacted. That would look bad.

After staring at the blinking curser on his screen for what seemed like an eternity, he typed in Tony Stark’s name and contact information. He looked at it sadly before hitting the submit button. He sighed, closing the browser. Well, only time would tell how that went. For now, at least, he could use some lunch.

Chapter 16: Something wicked this way comes

Chapter Text

Bruce was in the car with Alfred, heading back from the airport when his phone rang. He paused for a moment before he answered. It was an unknown number. Not one of his kids. Wasn’t marked as spam. But it was also calling one specific phone.

It was calling Batman.

Bruce glanced at Alfred before picking up. “Who is this?”

“You could start with a hello.” Bruce closed his eyes and tried not to do anything rash as the voice of one John Constantine came over the speaker.

“Hello. What the hell do you want?” Alfred glanced over as Bruce spoke.

“Just thought I would give you the courtesy of a heads up before I show up on your doorstep.”

“Why?”

“Because I would prefer not to have to fight the entire bat clan. I just finished up dealing with literal hellspawn or I would have been here sooner.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. If this was involved with the Spiderman currently loose in Gotham, he was going to have a really bad day.

“Should I pick him up on the way?” Alfred asked. Bruce looked up to a familiar blonde man in a brown coat walking down the road to the manor.

Bruce sighed and hung up the phone. “Stop next to him.”

Constantine helpfully stopped and waited for the car to pull up next to him. Bruce rolled his window down and looked at him. “What are you doing here, John?”

“I was hoping you’d have some information to help me with that.”

“I’ve been in Milan.”

“Lovely city. Mind if I jump in?”

Bruce nodded and John opened the door, sliding into the back and arranging himself in the middle.

“Seatbelt, if you please,” Alfred said, giving the man a pointed look in the rear-view mirror.

“Hu? Oh, yeah. Sure.” He buckled himself in as Alfred started the car moving again. Constantine leaned forward and looked at Bruce. “I’ll get to the point. There was a huge influx of magical energy three days or so ago. Time zone sh*t, I don’t care enough to do the math,” he said, waving his hand vaguely. “Point is, something big happened just a few miles outside of Gotham. Tear a hole through reality kind of big. I’ve got about a dozen different things that lit up because of it. The logistics of that don’t make sense but that’s a whole other pile of sh*t. I don’t know what caused it, but it can’t be good. I know you and really would rather be working with you and your network of whatever they’re calling themselves these days than to have one of you come to break my kneecaps for trespassing.”

Bruce had backup plans for his backup plan’s backup plans. He made it a point to be prepared for everything. So, he hated it when he felt like he’d been caught unprepared. He felt off balance. And upset.

Though, to be fair, his experience with magic was very limited. It wasn’t a typical threat for Gotham and also very firmly in Constantine’s domain. He was more than happy to leave it that way. He would help out Clark with his alien stuff or Diana with her god problems, but he didn’t keep as close a tab on everyone else’s stuff as he did Gotham. That wasn’t to say that the Watchtower wasn’t checking for any potential major threat at every moment, it was. But he didn’t exactly have magic detectors hooked into the batcomputer. And with how Gotham generally was just by existing, he probably didn’t want to. Constantine complained about how Gotham acted up every time he came here, which was thankfully not often.

Bruce sighed. “My guess would be that whatever brought you here has to do with the mysterious Spiderman that my children have apparently been keeping from me. The timeline of when he first appeared and when your magical disturbance happened match. And he apparently had some sort of metal ball when he was first seen but has not been seen with it since. He is also able to climb up walls and on ceilings. That sound like something you deal with.”

“Hmm. Could be. I’ll have to get a look at him to know for sure,” Constantine said thoughtfully.

The car stopped in front of Wayne Manor. Bruce looked to see Dick standing in the half-open door leading into the manor, hands in his pockets. He was tense, clearly readying himself for whatever lecture Bruce had in store for him. He heard the back door open and saw Dick’s face quickly flash from confusion to shock to something akin to dread as Constantine stepped out.

So, he wasn’t expecting him to show up either. Interesting.

Dick was expecting Bruce to be upset, probably even angry, at Dick and the others for keeping this information from him. Dick had decided he was going to take the blame for the whole affair, which was why he was waiting outside for when Bruce arrived. It had been his idea to keep it from Bruce, and he was the oldest. He was responsible for his little brothers. The captain went down with his ship so to say.

When he saw the black car coming back up the driveway, he took a deep, steadying breath. He could do this. It’s not the worst thing he had done, not by a long shot.

He was not expecting the back door to open. It should only have been Bruce and Alfred in the car and both of them should have been up front.

He was even less prepared for John Constantine to step out. Why was he here? He didn’t come to Gotham, especially not unannounced. Unless something really weird happened. A creeping sense of dread crept over Dick. Something weird had happened. Spiderman had shown up. But that hardly constituted Constantine. Right?

He barely registered Bruce and Alfred getting out and heading up the steps towards him as he was very distracted by Constantine’s presence. The man walked up and stopped on the landing in front of him. “Hello, Dick. I would say good to see you but that also means I’m back in this god forsaken city.”

That shook Dick out of his shocked stupor. He plastered on a smile. “Why are you here if you hate Gotham so much?”

“We were hoping you might be able to shed some light on that,” Bruce said, barely concealed annoyance and anger in his voice. He was not in a good mood. This was not going to be fun.

“I don’t think we’ve come across anything to call in Constantine.”

“Yeah, well something happened and it set off all sorts of alarms in England.”

“Why don’t we discuss this inside,” Bruce said pointedly. Dick knew he meant the cave.

Alfred got the door as Dick nodded. “I’ll get the others.”

“Call Jason in too.”

“He’s not going to want to come.”

“It’s important.”

Dick sighed. “I’ll do my best.” He slipped inside, hearing John and Bruce start talking as he headed upstairs to get his brothers. He pulled out his phone as soon as he was out of earshot of Bruce and called Jason. Dick chewed on his lip uncertainly. He didn’t know if Jason would pick up, much less actually show up. He knew Bruce was home, which was enough reason for him to stay away. But having Constantine there too didn’t help.

“The hell you want, Dick?”

He let out a little sigh, glad he picked up. “Hey Jay, can you come to the manor?”

“What, so B can chew me out? Hell f*cking no!”

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Stuff changed. Constantine’s here.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Why the hell is that asshole here?”

“We don’t know. But he never just shows up in Gotham for no reason.”

Jason grumbled on the other end of the line. He knew Dick was right but didn’t want to admit it. “If he tries anything weird-”

“He’s John Constantine. His whole job is dealing with weird.”

“You know what I mean, asshat. I’m not putting up with him more than I have to, got it?”

“Thanks Jay.”

“You owe me big time for this.”

“Yeah.” He sighed as Jason hung up. Well, this was going to be fun. Dick wanted to retreat to Bludhaven and hide out in a safehouse there for the next decade or so. He wouldn’t do that though. He had a job to do. So, he headed to the library where he’d last left his brothers and walked in.

Tim looked up from where he was sitting at a table with his laptop open. “How bad is it?”

Dick sighed. “Bruce wants us all down in the cave. Jason’s on his way. And Constantine’s here.”

“We’re so dead,” Tim groaned.

“If you had listened to me and informed Father earlier, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Damian huffed from his seat by the window. He was petting Titus in a way that clearly slowed he was anxious about this situation. At least, it was clear to anyone who was a bat.

“Look, the sooner we get down there the sooner we can get this over with and maybe get some answers. And it was my idea to keep him out of the loop. I’ll take responsibility for it.”

Tim sighed and closed his laptop, standing up. “No point in delaying the inevitable. And we don’t want Jason to get to the cave before us.”

Dick blanched slightly at the idea. “Yeah, no. Definitely not. Knowing him, he probably didn’t pack his rubber bullets. Come on.” Dick turned and headed out of the room, the sound of two pairs of footsteps behind him confirming that both Tim and Damian were following him. They headed down the hidden elevator into the batcave, fidgeting the whole time. The trio walked out to see Bruce, already in his Batman costume (when did he change? Was he expecting to go out already?) sitting at the batcomputer with John Constantine looking up at the screens, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. Pictures and videos of Spiderman were filling up the screens. The blonde man looked over as they walked in.

“So, this is the guy that appeared three days ago in Gotham?”

Dick nodded, moving in front of his brothers. “Yeah. Goes by the name Spiderman. Says he’s from New York. Claims to be some sort of superhero.”

Constantine nodded, looking back at the computer. “The good news is that he doesn’t look demonic.”

“The bad news?” Tim ventured nervously.

“I can’t tell anything else about him. Timelines match up but nothing about this kid seems magical in the slightest. I mean, look at him, the suit’s more tech than anything. Don’t know about the wall thing. That’s a bit freaky.”

“Tt.”

“Oi.” Constantine shot a glare at Damian.

The young Robin glared and was about to retaliate when the roar of a bike thundering down the cave drowned him out.

Jason stopped his bike in the middle of the open area in the cave, swinging one leg over the bike as he got off. He stomped, louder than was probably necessary, up to where the group was gathered. He still had his helmet on.

“You wanted me here, well here I am. What the f*ck do you want?” Jason asked, crossing his arms.

Constantine looked at him, hands in the pockets of his coat. “You had any dealings with Spiderman?”

“Yeah. I shot the f*cker a few times. Why?”

“And you three have dealt with him too?” Constantine asked, looking at the others.

Dick nodded. “Yeah. Tim and I the most. There’s video from the encounter in the subway.”

Constantine looked over at the computer as Bruce pulled it up. Dick watched his body language as the video played. John was focused, watching each movement he made, his eyes narrowing as Spiderman climbed up the wall.

“What’s that white stuff?” he asked, gesturing to the webbing that was stuck on Tim in the video, keeping him tethered to the handrail.

“Some sort of webbing. Very strong and sticky. It’s able to be cut, but not easily. And it dissolves to nothing on its own after a while,” Tim said, trying to hide his embarrassment at the analysis of him being stuck.

“Hmmm. It’s nothing I’ve seen before but I’d have to get a better look at it.” He sighed and seemed to fidget with something in his pocket. “Is there anything else weird that’s happened in Gotham in the last three days? Any strange entities? Shadows that seem too deep? People asking weird questions?”

There was a quiet that settled over them as they thought. Jason shifted, causing basically everyone to turn and look at him. “Well, there was this kid that was trying to look for someone called Doctor Strange.”

Chapter 17: Have you seen some dirt?

Chapter Text

Constantine looked at Jason confused. “What does that have to do with this?”

Jason sighed, shifting his weight again. “The weird thing was, Babs couldn’t find anything on the guy. Doctor Stephen Strange doesn’t exist. He gave a New York address, which checked out as real, but there’s a couple of guys living there named Roy Thomas and Gary Friedrich, not Stephen Strange. There’s not even a guy named Stephen Strange living in New York, and none of the people with that name are doctors.” He’d done a little research of his own after the conversation with Babs and Peter.

Constantine frowned, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. Jason just wished he would f*cking light the thing. “Ok, that’s definitely weird, but not necessarily magic weird. Was that it?”

“He called the place the guy lived a sanctum but that’s about it,” Jason said with a shrug.

“Sanctum could be magic.” He went to take a drag on his cigarette and looked annoyed when it hadn’t magically lit itself since it had last been in his mouth. “What’s the kid’s name?”

“Hold on, do you think he did whatever this is?” Jason asked, starting to feel anger bubbling up to the surface. Peter was a weird kid, but he wasn’t a bad kid. Jason would know if he was. Jason was the definition of bad. He killed, he tortured, he was a crime lord. Peter just wanted to get home. He didn’t want Constantine trying to f*ck up a normal kid.

“I don’t f*cking know! I haven’t seen the guy. But if he’s had dealings with a sanctum, yeah, maybe.”

“He’s just a kid!”

“Yeah, and I know a kid that literally tore a hole in the fabric of reality! Being a kid doesn’t mean you’re not a danger. Hell, you guys were all dangerous kids at one point. Two of you still are and one is an assassin!”

“Tt.”

“Enough!” Everyone looked over at Batman, who was glaring at them all. He turned to look pointedly at Jason. “What is his name?”

“Why the f*ck should I tell you?”

“Jason. We need his name.”

“If he’s not a threat, he’ll be fine. But there’s a possibility he is powerful enough to tear apart reality. And if he is, then I need to stop him. Got it?” Constantine said, looking at Jason levelly.

Jason gritted his teeth. He hated this. But he hated even more the thought of Peter destroying Gotham. “His name is Peter Parker.”

Constantine nodded. “I’ll have to talk with him. But first, I want to take a look at the source. Pull up a map.”

Bruce changed the screens so that a map of Gotham and the surrounding area took up most of them. Constantine pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. He started reading off some coordinates that Bruce plugged into the computer. Jason could feel the tension in the air visibly rise as the location pinged on the map.

Constantine looked up from his paper. “The source should be right about there. Roughly.”

Bruce turned in his chair to look at his children, a hard look in his eyes. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

“I swear, I first saw him was on the border between the Bowery and Crime Alley.”

“You didn’t notice that something had happened a mile from the Manor?” Bruce asked, raising his voice a bit.

“There was nothing to raise suspicion of anything happening. If we had any reason to suspect something might have happened, we would have gone to investigate,” Dick said defensively.

“Look, you can fight later. I would like to investigate this while there’s still light out,” Constantine said, stopping Bruce from rebutting. Jason wasn’t going to point out that it was still only midafternoon.

Batman looked over at the Brit, who did not flinch under his glare. Finally, Bruce stood. “Suit up.” He headed to the batmobile, John following. Jason sighed as his brothers hurried off to quickly suit up. This was just f*cking typical.

It really was not a remarkable stretch of road. Just a boring stretch of road leading away from the most God-forsaken city on the damn planet. Constantine took another drag of his cigarette as he walked down the edge of the road. The various bats walked along behind him, most of them on the other side of the road. Only Batman and Nightwing were on his side behind him.

Not that they would probably be much help, honestly. The best bet was for John to feel any lingering magic left in the area. A spell that powerful had to leave some sort of residual. Would be easier if it wasn’t three f*cking days old, but it wasn’t like John had been able to just drop what he was doing to run here. He’d been busy. He was long overdue for a f*cking vacation, but did he get that? No. He had to come all the way to f*cking Gotham of all places. He hated this city.

John suddenly paused, causing Nightwing to almost crash into him.

“Found something?” the man asked, hopefully.

“Shh.” He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and looked around. He was close, he could feel it. He took a few steps forward and paused. No, not that way. Other side of the road maybe?

John walked across the road, the feeling of magic growing. And with it grew his own unease. Something was wrong with it. The magic didn’t feel right. It felt tainted and… he was trying to find another way to describe it other than yellow. He took one last drag of his cigarette before squishing it out with his foot against the pavement.

The road itself wasn’t the source. But it was close. As were about 5 people in costumes.

“I need you all to back up so I can focus,” he said, looking at the vigilantes and making a shooing motion.

Robin looked downright offended but did back up with the rest of them, giving John at least a good five feet of space. He took a deep breath and turned back to the edge of the road.

Very inconspicuous random road stretch that apparently had had some sort of immense magical surge for no apparent reason. He looked around, narrowing his eyes for any sign of the source. His eyes paused on what looked like some disturbed earth a couple feet away in a ditch.

John walked over and knelt on the ground. The wind and what appeared to have been a recent rain had obscured things, but there were what appeared to be signs of a struggle in the ditch. And the feeling of that corrupted yellow (was there really no better description than f*cking yellow?) magic was focused on this spot.

“Is this it?” Nightwing’s voice came from over his shoulder. Constantine rolled his eyes, not turning to look at him.

“Yeah. This is it.”

He heard the other bats come over.

“Someone was here. This whole area is disturbed.” Nightwind sounded worried at the thought of what could have done this.

“Yeah,” John said, standing. “Could be a person or demon or something else did that after coming through, could be a result of the magic itself, could be both. Now I need you all to back up and not touch anything. I have work to do.”

The Bats clearly did not like having to stay put. John had snapped at them no less than three times now to stop bickering and shut up as he worked on setting up the spell. The fact that the ground was uneven and covered in leaf litter was not helping his cause. And he kept getting distracted by the bickering Robins and ex-Robins. But he did eventually get everything in place and stood up, brushing dirt off his hands on his pants.

“Are you done?” a hopeful and kind of excited Nightwing asked. John didn’t know where he got all that optimistic energy from, especially living in such a dreadful city.

“It’s set up, but I still need to complete the actual spell. Stand back and don’t approach. I don’t need one of you getting hurt.” He didn’t look to see if they were following his instructions before starting. He flicked out his lighter and flung small balls of fire to light the candles placed around the rough circle. He slid it back into his pocket and held out one hand as he started muttering the incantation.

The wind started to pick up around them, causing his coat to flap against his legs. He didn’t stop, pressing forward with the spell. The flames flickered in the wind but didn’t go out. Leaves flew through the air around him. Inside the circle, all was still.

John’s gaze hardened as he focused on the center of the circle, the epicenter of whatever had happened. He raised his voice, commanding more authority from the powers at be, demanding the magic to show itself. The ground inside the circle trembled. He pushed on, insistent. He needed to know. It needed to give in to him.

Suddenly, it all hit him like a flash.

The yellow of the magic sparked in a circle. But there was something blue mixed in with it. It wasn’t magic, he didn’t know what it was, but it had entangled with the magic, changing it. In the center of the yellow, crackling ring was a hole. A hole that led through a strange space that was both the brightest light and the complete absence of all light, hotter than Hell (John would know, he’d been there) and colder than space. It was full of contradictions that John got the distinct impression no being was supposed to traverse it. At the other end was another hole, ringed by that same yellow magic. It wasn’t very big, and it seemed a good distance away, but he was able to see a little bit of what was on the other side.

Or more specifically who.

A man with sharp features and dark hair with grey at the temples and a goatee looked at the portal, seeming both startled and confused. John couldn’t see much of what was behind him, though the man seemed to be standing in front of a large window with strange, curving bars over it. The man also was wearing a really rather over-the-top outfit consisting of layered blue tunics and what appeared to be a very high collared cape. The two men’s eyes met.

With a snap, it was over. The magic winked from existence, taking the mysterious man with it. The air stilled as John took a few deep breaths, blinking to try and clear the phantom images left by the magic from his eyes. Smoke drifted lazily up from the now extinguished candles. He turned back to face the bats who were all looking at him blankly.

“Was that it?” Hood asked indignantly. “Some wind and leaves?”

John sighed. Of course, they didn’t see that. Why would they? None of them were f*cking magic. He took out a cigarette and lit it.

“There’s more to it than wind and leaves. I’m going to need to talk to Spiderman or this Peter kid. Whatever magic happened here, it’s not something I’ve seen before. And I’m almost certain it’s not from this world.”

“What do you mean?” Nightwing asked, looking at John confused.

“What I’m saying is that something came through some sort of magic portal here and whatever it was, it’s not of this Earth.”

Meanwhile, in the Sanctum Sanctorum, Doctor Strange was standing where he’d stopped his pacing, book in hand still open to where he’d been reading. He was staring at the space where just a few moments ago a strange man had stared at him through a small portal. A man who was clearly magic and was not expecting to see Strange. And, based on the weird tunnel in the portal, someone who was not used to this sort of magic and likely doing so improperly. And, quite possibly, from a different realm entirely.

The portal had closed before Strange had a chance to get much more information, leaving him standing there stunned.

“That was odd,” he said to the air where the portal had been. He closed the book he had been holding and headed back to the library. He had something new to research.

Chapter 18: More questions, no answers

Chapter Text

Tim followed behind the batmobile on his bike as they headed back to the entrance of the batcave. It was weird riding on his bike in the middle of the day, especially behind the batmobile and with Jason in full Red Hood gear next to him.

Constantine’s words were circling around in his head. Something did come through some sort of magic portal. And whatever it was, it was from another world. It was also highly likely to be extremely dangerous. Constantine said things didn’t normally come through that didn’t have some sort of malicious intent. Spiderman was still the leading contender for what might have come through. The mysterious metal ball, the powers he seemed to have, his webs, the fact that he had fought the bats on numerous occasions. It added up to a potential culprit. Didn’t completely rule out the possibility of Peter Parker, but a street kid hardly seemed to have the power Constantine seemed to imply this would have taken. There was also always the option that it was some third party that was deep in hiding, waiting to reveal itself while it gathered strength.

Tim almost hoped it was Spiderman. They’d fought him before, and they knew he was injured. And, to use some of Jason’s sentiment, if it could bleed, it could die. Tim wondered if it was going to come to that.

He pulled into the cave behind the others and parked, still lost in thought.

“We don’t exactly plan to see him, he just tends to show up,” Dick was saying as he got out of the car.

Constantine hummed in thought. “He’ll likely continue that pattern.”

“If the injuries sustained by Todd do not keep him from appearing.”

“Hey, it’s not like I could know Columbo here would decide to pop over to Gotham all interested in him!” Jason said defensively.

“Would that have changed the outcome?” Bruce asked.

Jason looked at him. “Yeah. I would have shot him in the head.”

“Jesus Crist,” Constantine muttered, rubbing his forehead.

Tim sighed and pulled out his phone. He started looking up anything in the news and social media relating to Spiderman. He was flipping between tabs when he paused, a notification catching his eye. He opened up the website and logged in to be sure he was reading that correctly. He stared at the name on the screen blankly.

“Tim!”

He jumped, realizing he must have completely blocked out his family’s bickering. Everyone was looking at him. “Sorry, did I miss something?”

“We were making plans to try and locate Spiderman on patrol tonight. Weren’t you listening?” Jason said, sounding more than a little pissed off.

“No sorry, I was trying to see if there were any new sightings of Spiderman after last night and something came up.”

“What?” Bruce demanded.

“Peter Parker just put in a job application to Wayne Enterprises.”

Jason gripped the handles of his motorcycle tightly. To say that chaos had descended at Tim’s news was a bit of an understatement. Everyone had ended up crowded around the batcomputer to dissect every scrap of information contained in Peter’s resume. It only raised more questions than answers. None of the previous job experience matched with anything Tim or Bruce could find on record. They’d even contacted Babs for backup, only to find out Peter had been at the library earlier that day to use the computers. Tim had nearly pulled his hair out while Constantine swore and lit a cigarette in the cave. The most that they could confirm was that Peter existed. What confused really them was that his reference and a previous internship employer, which was listed as a man named Tony Stark, had the same phone number as Bruce. Tony Stark also did not appear to exist, at least not in the capacity that he appeared on Peter’s resume.

The hiring manager had refused the application on some honestly pretty valid grounds.

Tim had eventually sent an email response overruling the hiring manager to ask Peter to come in for a practical interview at his earliest convenience. He made some excuse about wanting to see if Peter had the practical skills he claimed he had and that Wayne Enterprises always tried to help out underserved populations.

It didn’t quite sit right with Jason to see his family basically circling Peter like vultures. His resume had all sorts of red flags, but nothing inherently malicious, at least not on the scale of Constantine’s mystery monster. And that didn’t seem to fit with the kid Jason knew, or at least thought he knew. The kid who was covered in cuts and bruises, who stood up to gang members nearly twice his size, who had fought a gunman and taken a bullet to protect people in a soup kitchen, the kid who was clearly living on the streets and probably halfway to being malnourished. He was just some kid who wanted to get home and who had way too strong of a sense of justice. Honestly, if it wasn’t for all these weird inconsistencies to possibly connect him with whatever bullsh*t Constantine was here about, he would almost be a prime candidate for adoption into the bat family. Peter wasn’t a bad guy. At least Jason hoped he wasn’t.

f*cking hell, this would be so much easier if Jason didn’t know the guy. Jason had dropped his Hood stuff at a safe house. He just needed some time to himself where Bruce wasn’t going to try and track him or rope him into his bullsh*t. Which is why he’d been riding around Crime Alley and the Bowery to blow off steam for the past half hour or so.

He slowed down as he passed the soup kitchen he’d seen Peter in three times now. He stopped just down the block, thinking. If Peter was whatever Constantine was after, Jason should be able to see it now that he knew to look for it. And if he wasn’t, well, the soup kitchen was neutral ground. Jason wasn’t about to break the rules he enforced and make the soup kitchen no longer safe.

Having reached his decision, he parked his bike in the alley and headed to the soup kitchen and made his way in. He quickly scanned the crowd sitting and eating. It was a little early for dinner, so it was a pretty thin crowd. Which made it easy for Jason to tell that Peter wasn’t there. He turned to see if Julia was working and paused.

There he was, the kid the whole bat clan was trying to figure out and suspecting of being some sort of interdimensional herald of doom.

Peter hadn’t noticed Jason yet. He was busy working the line, currently cheering up a single mom and her little girl who had to stand on her tip toes to see over the counter. He could hear her giggling from across the room. Peter was smiling as he scooped what looked like vegetable stew into bowls for the pair. Jason was an expert at reading body language. Not as good as Cass, but still better than most people. Peter seemed genuine and open in his body language. He could see stiffness in his motion, but it didn’t seem out of place considering the kid got himself shot in the damn shoulder not two days earlier.

Jason made his way up to the counter and waited patiently, waving off the other girl saying that he wanted to talk with Peter.

Peter passed the mother and daughter their food, reminding the little girl to eat the veggies in the soup. She seemed partly convinced on the idea. They seemed new to the soup kitchen, Jason would guess based on how they acted as they left to find seats. Peter smiled, watching them go before turning and starting to head back to the other end of the line. He got about two steps before he noticed Jason and did a double take. He smiled, heading over. Jason noticed he had a bit of a limp as he walked. He’d been favoring one leg last time, but it looked like it got worse. He kept his face to a neutral expression as Peter reached him.

“Hey Jason! Hungry?” He was being genuine. He was happy to see him. Jason almost wished he wasn’t. He didn’t show it though, just shrugged.

“Came to check to make sure this place was ok after what happened last night.”

Something flashed across Peter’s face, his smile dipping. “The thing with Poison Ivy and the chemical plant?”

“Yeah. You heard about it?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. I saw the smoke. Was a lot closer to me than I’d like. Read more about it on the news earlier today.”

“Did you breathe it in?” Jason asked, barely masking his concern.

“Some, yeah. But I don’t think I got it too bad.”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “You gotta be careful, kid.”

“I am careful.”

“We both know that’s bullsh*t.”

Peter chuckled. He laughed so easily and genuinely.

Jason looked at him. “You’re not overdoing it, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

“I saw you limping a moment ago.”

Peter sighed, glancing down. “It’s nothing. I fell last night during some of the panic from the attack. Reopened an injury. I already saw Dr. Thompkins about it so it’s ok now. Just sore.”

Jason sighed and nodded. He hoped this kid was telling the truth. “So, you’re volunteering here?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. I’m working on trying to get a job, but until I hear something back, I have some time on my hands. And I feel a little better about accepting food if I’m doing something to earn it, you know.”

Jason hated that he knew exactly what Peter meant. When he’d first started living at the manor, he’d felt like he owed Bruce and Alfred for everything they were giving him. Jason also knew what it was like to be hungry all the time. A part of him wanted to tell Peter not to go to the interview with Tim. But that would raise all sorts of suspicions from both Peter and the bats. And Jason wanted answers too. He was just worried about the kid.

“Kid, you literally jumped in front of a bullet.”

Peter shrugged a little, Jason noticed he didn’t move his right shoulder, which had been shot, as much as his left shoulder. He wondered how much pain Peter was in that he was hiding from Jason and everyone else in the soup kitchen. “I like helping people. And right now, this is how I can do that,” Peter said, gesturing at the food in front of him.

Jason nodded. He heard the door open. The soup kitchen would be getting busy soon. He looked at Peter. “You’ve eaten, right?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. I ate.”

“Good. Don’t make your injuries worse. Got it?”

“Pretty sure Dr. Thompkins will kill me if I reopen anything.”

“Good.” He glanced around the soup kitchen before looking back at Peter. “I’ll see you around kid.”

Peter nodded. “See you later, Jason.”

He nodded and turned to head out. As he left, he heard Peter brightly greet the person who walked up to the counter. Jason walked outside, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it.

He would keep an eye on Peter, look for anything suspicious. But that didn’t mean he was going to tell everything to the bats and Constantine. John was a dick and always looked at Jason like he shouldn’t be there. Which, considering Jason was supposed to be dead, was technically true. But Constantine was f*cking rude about it. At least he wasn’t trying to exorcise Jason or something anymore.

But there was no way in hell Jason was putting Peter through that unless he had a reason to.

Peter headed out after the dinner rush. Julia had noticed his limp acting up and practically fought him to go rest. Peter ate a sandwich she’d given him as she pushed him out the door, telling him he needed to take care of his health.

He smiled. His whole body was sore, and his multiple wounds hurt, but he felt great. He might not be able to help people as Spider-man right now, but he’d been able to help people who were down on their luck. He’d managed to make people smile who seemed like they really needed it. Dr. Thompkins might lecture him when he got to the clinic, but he thought it was worth it.

When he got to the clinic, the lady at the desk looked up at him. He walked over. “Hi. I’m Peter. I was here earlier and Dr. Thompkins told me to come back later to see if my test results were in.”

Recognition flickered in her eyes. “Yes. Have a seat, I’ll let her know you’re here. She should be out as soon as she can.”

“Ok.” Peter watched her get up and through the door into the rest of the clinic. He found an empty chair and sat down. He picked up a copy of the newspaper that was sitting on a table nearby and started flipping through it.

The top news story was on the Poison Ivy attack last night. She apparently was back at Arkham asylum now, which was probably good. It was framed as a good thing. It talked about how the various Gotham vigilantes had helped contain Ivy until the fire was under control. It sounded like minimal injuries were reported on scene, though the hospitals were seeing an influx of people with lung problems due to the smoke inhalation. He hoped everyone would be alright.

There was one part of the article that was really concerning to Peter. And that was what they said about Spiderman.

“They never remember the hyphen,” He muttered to himself before continuing to read.

There was a lot of speculation about him, including that he may have been working with Ivy. His fight with Red Robin, Nightwing, and the GPD after the subway crash was used as evidence. However, in a statement, Poison Ivy had said Spiderman (again, no hyphen) wasn’t working with her, and that he claimed to not be one of the bats. That meant that, according to the paper, Spiderman (Peter was going to have to talk to someone about the hyphen) was a wild card with potentially criminal intentions.

Peter sighed and set the paper down. It was just like the Beck situation all over again. He tried to help but things got twisted and he ended up framed as the bad guy. All he wanted to do was help people, and he had the power to make some real change. And all the thanks he got was criminal speculations, investigations, his life torn to pieces, friends and family hurt or killed. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. If he could, he would give it all up just to have his old life back.

Well, maybe he shouldn’t say that. He didn’t regret helping people, even when it almost got himself killed. He didn’t regret that being Spider-man meant that he had gotten to know Mr. Stark and Happy, and that he’d gotten to meet Captain America and the Winter Soldier and Doctor Strange and so many other really cool people he would never have met otherwise.

He just missed Aunt May. He missed his friends.

“Peter?”

He opened his eyes and looked in the direction of the voice. Dr. Thompkins was standing in the doorway holding a folder. Peter put the paper back on the table and stood up.

“Hi Doc. Are the results done?”

She nodded. “They are. Let’s sit down and talk about them.”

Peter nodded and followed Dr. Thompkins as she led him to an empty exam room. He pulled himself up onto the exam table, legs dangling off the edge. Dr. Thompkins sat down in her chair with a sigh. She opened the folder and looked at the papers in it.

“Did you reopen any of your wounds today?” She asked, looking up at him.

Peter shook his head. “Nope. No new blood either.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.” She looked over the paperwork again before looking up at Peter. “Can you tell me how exactly you came to Gotham?”

Chapter 19: Something on your mind?

Chapter Text

Peter looked at Dr. Thompkins confused. “How I got here? I don’t- does this have to do with my MRI?”

“I’ll be honest with you Peter, your MRI scans show some abnormalities. You said you had some head trauma right before you came here. I want to figure out if what happened when you came to Gotham could have caused what I see in your MRI.”

Peter felt his stomach drop. His hair seemed to stand on end in a way that was not connected to his spider sense. “That’s a bad thing, isn’t it.”

She sighed. “There are signs of some possible brain damage.”

Peter stared at her for a long moment. Brain damage was bad. Could he heal from that? Could normal people heal from that? If he could heal, why wasn’t he? What sort of damage? Why hadn’t he realized it?

Dr. Thompkins was quickly by Peter’s side. “Peter, you need to breathe. Everything’s going to be ok. It sounds worse than it is. Ok?”

Peter tried to take slow and steady breaths. “How bad is it?”

“The good news is that it doesn’t seem to have impacted any life-threatening areas of the brain. You’re not at risk of dying from it.”

“And the bad news?”

She sighed. “Most of the damage seems to be centralized in a few regions of the outer cortex. It’s possible that this damage may have been sustained due to the hit to the head you took a few days ago. Can you tell me anything more about the event?”

Peter took a deep breath, thinking back. “It’s all a bit of a blur. It happened really fast. I was fighting this alien guy as Spider-man. I stole this glowing ball he was holding, that’s when he hit me in the head several times. That hurt a lot. And then I fell, and everything was super bright. I… I don’t know what happened next but then I was in a ditch outside Gotham.” He looked up at her.

She nodded, listening with a worried look on her face. “It sounds like there’s a gap in your memory of at least several hours.”

Peter nodded. “I think it was just after noon in New York and then suddenly it was night.”

She nodded. “I’m guessing that the head trauma, and whatever happened in that gap in your memory, caused the abnormalities showing up on your MRI.” She took a deep breath, looking through her papers. “The good news is that it’s not too extensive. Have you noticed any issues with memory, brain fog, trouble sleeping, irritability, overly sensitive to external stimuli, or anything else unusual?”

Peter paused, thinking. “I’ve been having some trouble sleeping, but I don’t know if that’s from a brain injury or everything else. Other than that? I don’t know.”

Dr. Thompkins nodded. “Ok. That’s ok. If you notice anything, be sure to let me know. Ok?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Of course. Is there anything specifically I should look out for?”

She took a deep breath. “Memory loss, loss of coordination, changes in mood or behavior. It’s easier if you have someone else that can watch for symptoms with you, but I know that’s not always possible, so try your best.”

He nodded, fiddling with his hands, his fingers rubbing the knuckles of his other hand. “I might have memory loss?” Dr. Thompkins nodded sadly. “Is… am I going to get better?

She sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t really say for sure. Brains, as I said, are highly complex. Even basic surgeries have a lot of risk to them. The only people who might have any sort of technology that could even attempt to fix it would probably be the Justice League. Which, as Spider-man, you might be able to get. If you can get into their good graces that is. Though, from what I can tell, the bats don’t exactly seem to like you. And Batman is one of the key members of the Justice League.”

“Right…” Peter sighed, shoulders slumping forward. “So, there’s nothing we can do?”

“Unfortunately not. I’m sorry Peter. I wish there was more I could do to help you with this. You do have enhanced healing, so that may be enough to fix the damage on its own, but there’s no way to know for sure.”

Peter nodded. “No, that’s ok. You’re doing your best. Thanks. Is it ok if I head home now?”

“You’re not going to run around in your suit, are you?”

“No. I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

She nodded. “Good. You need some rest.”

Peter pushed himself off the bed. “Thanks for everything doc. Hopefully you won’t see me back here too soon.”

“Be careful, Peter. Ok?”

He forced a smile. “I’ll do my best, Doc.”

Dr. Thompkins got the door for him. Peter headed down the hallway and through the lobby, leaving the clinic. He started the walk home.

Brain damage.

That was just his luck, wasn’t it? He tried to do something good and got punished for it. He lost all of his friends and family, and now he had brain damage. And he might be missing memories on top of it. Maybe he forgot an event with MJ or Ned or Aunt May. Time spent with Mr. Stark? Did he forget times he’d been around the Avengers?

If he was back home, and if people had still been able to remember that he existed, maybe he would be able to find out on his own if he was missing chunks of his memory. But now? Here, in Gotham where no one knew him, with no way to contact home and no one who remembered him even if he could, he didn’t think he’d ever realize what memories he’d lost, if he did lose any.

Maybe it would have been better not to know he had any brain damage at all.

“Hey! Punk!” Peter wouldn’t have thought the voice was directed at him if not for the fact that it caused his tingle to go off.

Peter paused, looking up. He’d gotten lost in thought and wandered in what was probably the wrong direction. He didn’t recognize the street he was on, and it looked like it was some sort of gang territory. Which did not bode well for Peter as a group of three guys started walking towards him menacingly. He held his hands up, trying to look non-threatening. He really did not want to get into a fight right now. Dr. Thompkins would kill him.

“Hey guys. I don’t want any trouble. I think I just took a wrong turn.”

“You sure did, buddy,” the lead guy said. He pulled something out of his pocket and Peter heard the distinctive flick of a knife. He took a few steps back as he stormed closer. Except those few steps back were directly into a brick wall. The man roughly slammed his forearm across Peter’s chest, grabbing his sweatshirt. Peter let out a low grunt of pain as the man’s elbow hit one bullet wound and slammed his other bullet wound into bricks. He tried to move but stopped as he felt something cold and sharp press against his neck. It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but if Peter moved, it easily could.

“Look, I don’t have anything. Honest.”

“Turn out his pockets,” the man barked, leering at Peter, his face inches away. “See what this sh*t’s hiding.”

“Seriously, I don’t have anything. Though you could really use a breath mint or something.”

The knife pressed slightly harder against Peter’s neck, causing him to suck in a breath of air. He could feel it starting to cut into his skin.

“I wouldn’t try anything smart if I were you.”

Peter was going to say another smart comment when he felt his tingle go off. He glanced up, barely daring to move his head. He could see the confused look on the face of the man holding him before something dark swung down, kicking one of the other two squarely in the chest.

The figure stood up, pulling two escrima sticks off his back. “Hey fellas. What brings you here at this time of night?” Nightwing asked with a cheeky grin.

Peter suddenly became a lot less interesting as the guy holding him released him to fight the Bat, not without making the cut on his neck get a little bigger. Peter moved to the side, getting out of the way, and put a hand to his neck. Nightwing had the situation handled. The first guy was groaning on the ground and the other two were no match for him. Peter decided to just stay out of the way and not get involved unless he had to.

He pulled his hand away and looked at it. There was a little bit of blood on his palm, but it looked like the cut was just superficial. Enough to bleed but it would be healed by tomorrow morning. Hopefully. He hadn’t been healing as fast as he normally did of late. Probably because he hadn’t been eating enough.

He stayed off to the side by the wall as Nightwing took care of the muggers. He watched him hit one of them in the stomach with the electrified end of the escrima stick and had to keep himself from flinching at the memory of being on the receiving end. The guy sank to his knees before flopping over onto the ground with a groan.

Nightwing turned to Peter, a worried look on his face. “You ok?”

Dick had only really been intending to pass through Crime Alley as a shortcut. But, it was Crime Alley after all. And it wasn’t like Dick was just going to not help a guy who was being mugged at knifepoint.

He looked at the person they’d been mugging. He looked to be a teenager, about Tim’s age. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar. He looked nervous, which was fair. He had just been mugged. But Dick was more concerned about the fact that he had a hand on his neck.

“Did you get cut?”

“It’s just a small cut. I’ll be fine,” the kid said. He had a New York accent. Interesting.

“Let me take a look,” Dick said, putting his escrima sticks away and taking a step towards him. The kid hesitated before slowly lowering his hand. Dick leaned forward and tried to take a look. It was hard to see in the light, but it did look to be just a small cut. He slowly relaxed. “You should be ok. What are you doing out here at this hour?”

“Just trying to head home. Though, I think I got a little lost,” he admitted, glancing around. “Think I missed a turn a few blocks back or so. I was a little lost in my thoughts.”

Dick nodded. “Dangerous place to get lost in. Want me to help you find your way back?”

The kid looked at him before nodding a little. “Ok.” He looked around the street they were standing in. “I think I came from that way.”

He nodded. “Then let’s walk that way until we get back to somewhere you recognize.” The teen nodded and the two of them started walking. Dick very quickly noticed that he was limping slightly. “Is your leg hurt?”

“What? Oh, uh, yeah. But it’s ok. That’s from before. It’s been treated.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Though I don’t think getting slammed into a wall really helped.”

Nightwing nodded. “Probably not. Are you’re sure you’re ok?”

“I’m sure.”

They walked in silence for a few moments. Dick watched the kid out of the corner of his eye. He seemed familiar but he still wasn’t sure where he’d seen him. He decided to break the silence to see if he could find out something about the teen that might hint as to where Dick recognized him from. “What’s your name?”

“Peter.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m Nightwing.”

“I know,” the teen said with a bit of a smile. “Thanks for the help, by the way. Dr. Thompkins would have my head if I reopened anything.”

Dick chuckled. “Oh, don’t I know it. Great doctor, terrifying if you cross her.” He shuttered at the memory of the last time he’d been dragged into her office after tearing open his stitches for the third time in a row.

He nodded. “Yeah. She’s great.” Dick detected a hint of something not quite sadness in his voice. Something closer to loss.

“Everything alright, Peter?”

“Yeah. Everything’s great.” His tone was laced with barely contained bitter sarcasm.

“You want to talk about it?”

Peter’s pace slowed for a moment in hesitation. His facial expression showed the conflicting thoughts in his head.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Medical history, or whatever it is, is your business. I’m just offering to lend an ear if you need it.”

Peter smiled appreciatively, thinking about it for another moment. “Ok. Just, maybe not in the middle of a street in Crime Alley?”

Dick smiled. “Fair enough.” He glanced around, trying to see if there was a good quiet place to talk that would make the kid feel comfortable.

“Fire escape?” Dick looked over to see Peter gesturing up at a fire escape on the side of a building that looked to be mostly abandoned.

Dick nodded. “Ok.” He went over and jumped to grab the bottom of the fire escape and pull it down with a clang. He gestured for Peter to go up first. Peter smiled and climbed up the ladder. Dick followed, making his way up the metal stairs till they came to the top. Peter had pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the roof by the time Dick got up there. He jumped up next to him, using the railing of the fire escape to give himself a little boost.

“So, what’s on your mind?” Dick asked, looking over at Peter, trying not to swing his feet, and failing.

Peter took a deep breath, playing with his hands. “I just found out I have some brain damage and may have some memory loss.”

Oh. It was literally stuff on his mind.

Dick looked over at Peter. The teen’s shoulders were slumped, and he was staring off into the middle distance somewhere in front of him.

“Do you have any idea how bad it is?” Dick asked gently.

Peter shook his head. “She said it wasn’t that extensive. But it could affect anything from memory to sleep to personality. Brains are complicated like that.”

“Well, you could try spending time with friends and family. They might be able to figure out if anything’s different.”

“I wish I could,” Peter’s voice was full of heartbreak as he said it, tilting his head back to look up at the sky. “But they’re all gone. If something’s wrong, no one else is there to notice. And if I forget something, that’s it.”

Dick’s own heart broke for the kid. It hurt to lose someone. And losing everyone, that hurt even more.

“I know how it feels to lose people.”

Peter turned his head to look over at Dick as he spoke.

“I lost both my parents before Batman took me in. Then I was in Gotham, trying to settle into a new life in a new place after having watched the death of my parents and leaving behind everyone I knew. I spent a long time holed up in my room. I tried writing down everything I could about my parents because I was scared that if I didn’t, they would disappear. That if I lost even a single memory, I would be insulting them. Batman eventually pulled me out of it. He said that if I spent my whole life trying to cling on to every memory of them, I’d miss out on my own life that was happening right in front of me.

“It doesn’t necessarily make it easier, but you still have memories of them. Maybe not every memory, but that’s ok. Everyone forgets things all the time. You might forget your 8^th birthday, or one time you went to the zoo with your family. But you still have memories of them. You don’t necessarily need every memory to remember someone. And for you, it might be harder since you know you might have memory loss. But you’ll find a way to get through it. It’s not the end of the world. It will get better. Promise. It just takes time.”

Peter smiled. Dick could see the slight shine of tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “Thanks, Nightwing. That helped.”

“That’s my job Peter. I help people.”

Peter nodded. “Is it busy out there tonight?”

“Well, so far I’ve stopped one mugging,” Nightwing said with a grin.

Peter chuckled. “Yeah. That’s true.”

They sat in a comfortable quiet for a few moments, just looking out at the Gotham skyline. After a few minutes, Dick looked over at Peter. “Are you going to be ok tonight, Peter?”

Peter turned to look over at him, smiling. “Yeah, I’ll be ok. What about you? Are you going to be ok?”

Nightwing looked at him a little surprised. Then he smiled. “Yeah. I’ll be ok too.” He held out one fist for a fist bump. “Here’s to being ok.”

Peter chuckled and gave Dick a fist bump. “To being ok.”

Dick smiled, standing up on the edge of the building and stretching out his back. “Do you still need help to get back?”

“No, I think I figured out where I am. That building over there looks familiar.”

“Good. Go home, get some rest, and don’t make Dr. Thompkins mad at you. I’ve got more muggings to stop.”

Peter chuckled, dropping down onto the fire escape. “Thank you. For everything.”

Dick smiled, pulling out his grappling hook. “Happy to help. Have a good night, Peter.”

“You too, Nightwing.”

Dick smiled and shot his grappling hook, swinging off into the night.

Peter watched the vigilante disappear before making his way down the fire escape. He pulled the ladder up and climbed the rest of the way down the wall before making his way back to the theater. He had taken a wrong turn a few blocks back, but luckily wasn’t too far off track. He managed to make it back without further incident and crawled into his makeshift bed. He sighed, closing his eyes and falling into an uneasy sleep.

Meanwhile, Bats patrolled the city skyline, on the lookout for a Spider-man who wouldn’t be out that night.

Chapter 20: Suitable preparations

Chapter Text

Babs sat at the front desk checking in books. One copy of Ender’s Game had been returned for the fourth time by Arbor. She was surprised they didn’t have their own copy yet, but was happy they enjoyed the book so much. Someone else had returned a copy of Dark Matter saying they hoped the next one would be coming out soon. Babs let them know that she would get a copy of it as soon as it was available.

She kept looking up every time someone walked in. Which meant that she was able to spot Peter as soon as he walked in. She smiled as he walked over. He looked a bit more well-rested today than he had the last couple of times she’d seen him. That was good.

“Good morning, Peter. Anything I can help you with?”

“Good morning. I just wanted to check in before I borrow a computer if that’s ok.”

Babs smiled. “Of course. Let me know if you need anything.”

Peter nodded, smiling, and headed off to the computers. Babs watched him go before pulling her phone out and sending a quick message to Tim.

Babs: Peter just walked into the building. At the computers now.

Tim: Thanks Babs.

She put her phone down and kept working. She’d been surprised when Tim had asked her to keep an eye out for Peter since he knew she knew him. He’d told her about the weird discrepancies in his resume as well as Constantine’s suspicions. She understood it, but she couldn’t exactly see Peter being a threat. She couldn’t help but think back to that first day when he’d been in here. When she’d comforted him in the phone booth when he’d been having a breakdown.

The poor kid was all alone with nothing to his name here. She hoped he wasn’t wrapped up in something he couldn’t be. She didn’t want him to be a problem for them to deal with. He seemed like such a good kid.

“Holy cow!”

She looked over as several people made shushing sounds in the direction of the computers. That sounded like it had been Peter’s voice. He probably saw Tim’s email. Her suspicion was confirmed a couple minutes later when Peter came over to her desk looking like he was about to burst from excitement.

“You look happy. Job applications going well?”

“Yeah!” He was just barely keeping his voice to an excited whisper. “I got an interview at Wayne Enterprises! Originally, I just got a rejection letter but then I got another email from them saying that I should come in for a practical interview. And I think the email signature said it was from the CEO. Which is wild. Does the CEO know technology? I kinda expected him to be more of a business guy with how many branches Wayne Enterprises has.”

Babs chuckled. Peter was genuinely excited. She didn’t need to be a bat to know that. “I take it you’re going to do the interview.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I sent back an email saying that I’d be available any time. I’m just waiting for a response. Oh, this means I need a suit. I don’t have a suit. Where am I going to get a suit? I don’t have money for a suit. I can’t blow this interview just because I don’t have a suit.”

His excitement was quickly turning into panic. Babs reached over and put one hand on top of one of his hands, stopping it from scratching at his wrist.

“Take a deep breath, Peter.”

He nodded, taking a couple deep breaths in and out.

“The Martha Wayne Foundation normally has ways that you can get a voucher to get a suit for an upcoming interview. There’s a form online and you just complete that and print it out.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks.”

She smiled back. “No problem, Peter. Best of luck on your interview.”

Peter nodded and headed back to the computers, most likely to fill out the form for the suit voucher. Babs smiled and pulled her phone back out.

Babs: Peter got very excited about your email. Then nearly had a panic attack over not having a suit.

Babs: Are sure this kid is related to Constantine’s problem?

Tim: We’re not sure, that’s why we’re trying to keep an eye on him. Did he act suspicious at all?

Babs: No. Just acted like someone who was very excited about getting an interview. Very genuine reaction.

Tim: I sent back a reply with a time to Peter. I might see if Cass can shadow to read his body language during the interview.

Babs: That might not be a bad idea.

Babs: Be nice to him. There’s still a chance he’s just a normal teen that’s had some bad luck.

Tim: I’m not Jason. I’ll be nice.

Babs smiled and put her phone down. She saw Peter walk over to the printer and grab a piece of paper off the top, looking it over before folding it up and putting it in his pocket. He headed back to the computer.

She turned back to her books. Someone had returned a copy of Good Omens that looked like it had been taken into the shower or dropped in a pool. She sighed and went to find out who had last checked the book out. They were getting fees for this. She was going to have to order a new copy.

She could hear footsteps approach and looked up to see Peter walking up to the desk. She smiled, setting the book down. “Any luck?”

Peter nodded excitedly. “Yeah. I got the voucher printed up. Thank you for that. The interview is at 10 tomorrow morning. Do you think I need to prepare anything for it?”

Babs smiled. “You said it was a practical interview?” Peter nodded. “Well, maybe bring a change of clothes you can work in.”

Peter nodded, a look of determination on his face. “Good idea. Thanks for everything.”

“Any time. Good luck on your interview. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He grinned. “I hope so. I’ll see you later!”

Babs smiled and waved as Peter left the building. She hoped that kid was good. She didn’t want to have to go against him. He had been hurt, though she didn’t know how, but he hadn’t let it put him down. Too many people were beaten down by this city. She didn’t want Peter to be another one.

Peter was so excited about the prospect of a job interview, but especially an interview for a job in technology. Especially experimental technology. He had no idea what sort of tech Wayne Enterprises had. Maybe he should have researched that before he left the library. He’d been too excited about the thought of an interview.

Well, excited and scared.

But first, he needed to get a suit. He headed to the address that was given when he printed out the voucher. It wasn’t too far away from the library. That was good at least. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He was overthinking about the whole interview.

He needed a suit because he needed to make a good first impression. He should probably also see if he could find somewhere to shower. That would be really nice. But he didn’t want to show up in a suit just to be told that he was overdressed because he was going to be crawling around and covered in grease. Babs’ idea of a spare change of clothes was a good idea. He could bring the clothes Dr. Thompkins gave him.

Maybe not those, actually. The jeans she gave him were nice and he wanted at least one pair of pants to keep clean for day-to-day use. He still didn’t have money. Maybe he could find some sort of donation center. Oh! Maybe he could go back to the food pantry where that nice lady Steph volunteered. But she might not be working. He could just ask at the place where he was getting the suit to see if they knew somewhere he could get some clothes. He didn’t want to have to steal out of a dumpster again, but would if he had to.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was stressed. This whole situation was very stressful. But if this worked out, he should be able to get money, and that would mean he could actually buy food and clothes.

Peter suddenly stopped. He didn’t have a bank account. Nor did he have the paperwork he would need to open up a bank account. He had crafted his own identity, but he hadn’t actually tested it on anything beyond job applications. Banks did background checks. Banks were in contact with the IRS. The IRS was a government organization that would come for Peter if they caught whiff of him committing fraud of any kind, and then the FBI would get involved for various crimes he’d committed while faking his identity. He closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands against the side of his head as his fingers gripped his hair. He could feel his whole body tingling in warning. His chest was tight. Why did his chest feel tight? There wasn’t anything squeezing his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

A small voice in the back of his head seemed to whisper that he was having a panic attack. It sounded suspiciously like Mr. Stark. He’d talked him down from a panic attack before.

“Hey, deep breaths, ok? It’s not really as bad as it seems. Got it? Come on, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Let’s count, ok?” the voice of Tony said in his head. Peter took a deep breath. He started counting along with the Tony in his head.

“In, two, three, four, five. And hold it. Three, four, five. Doing good. Let it out. Two, three, four, five. Few more times. Ok?”

Peter went through the cycle three times before he felt a bit better. He opened his eyes. His hands had dropped back to his side at some point. That was probably good.

Though, he was currently standing in the middle of the sidewalk in Gotham probably looking like a madman. That probably wasn’t good. Peter forced an awkward smile and hurried off down a side street. He took a few blocks detour, giving himself time to try and calm down some more.

The building at the address on the voucher was a Goodwill-type store. Peter walked in and looked around. There were a few people milling about, but otherwise it seemed pretty quiet. There were lots of racks of clothes arranged neatly in rows by type. From his quick glance around, there did seem to be some suits which was good. He just hoped he could find something that mostly fit and didn’t look horrible together.

He headed up to the person working at the cash register. She looked like she was about Peter’s age. That made this almost more awkward.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah. I have an interview tomorrow and I got this suit voucher.”

“Let me see.” Peter held out the voucher to her. She looked it over for a couple moments before handing it back. “Ok. You can get pants, a shirt, a suit top, and a tie. Vintage does not apply, neither do shoes. Alright?”

Peter nodded, smiling appreciatively. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”

He turned, slipping the paper back into his pocket before heading to look through the options on the racks. There was a decent selection. After a bit of trial and error, he managed to find a white shirt that fit decently along with some grey slacks and a suit top that were almost the same shade. He looked through the ties and found one that wasn’t too garish. It was dark blue with a lighter blue paisley pattern on it. Not horrible and went decently with the suit.

He made his way to the checkout. It was easy enough and soon he was walking out the door with a new suit in a bag. He smiled. He should head back to the firehouse to put the suit away before heading to the soup kitchen for some lunch and to let Julia know the good news. Maybe she could recommend a good place to shower.

Tim looked over the text conversation with Babs again. Both her and Jason had said Peter seemed like a good kid, though honestly, he trusted Babs’ assessment a little more than Jay’s. She wasn’t known to decapitate people and hadn’t almost killed Tim several times. He couldn’t say the same thing about some of his siblings.

He headed out to the garage and got into Redbird. He sat there, not turning the car on, as he sent a text to Cass.

Tim: Are you free tomorrow morning?

Cass: ✔️❓❓❓

Tim: Peter is coming in for a practical interview at 10. Another set of eyes could be good.

Cass: 👀🫡👍

Tim: Thanks Cass. You’re the best.

Cass: 😊

Tim smiled and put his phone away, starting up Redbird. He wanted to make sure he was ready for this interview. He didn’t just want to see what Peter was like, he wanted to see if he really knew what he claimed to. They would start off with something somewhat basic. Some circuitry and basic mechanical repairs. If Peter did well with those, he would bring out something harder. He would get some things ready, but he would be prepared to play it by ear. He had no idea what this guy had in store for him.

Constantine sat in his hotel room looking at the honestly not great sketch of the face he’d seen through the portal. He didn’t know who this man was, but he had to be connected somehow.

He turned the page of one of the books spread out in front of him. He was trying to find any hint of the man or whatever symbol might have been on the window behind him. He’d sketched what he could remember of the window too. He was pretty sure it had to be a part of some sort of symbol. Probably a ward of some sort, though it didn’t match any he knew.

Not to mention that he still had no luck on tracing that bloody magic. He was John f*cking Constantine for Crist’s sake! He should be able to at least pinpoint what type of magic they were dealing with! All he’d gotten was that it might be some sort of transportation spell. But it didn’t match any he personally knew, and further research wasn’t giving up anything either.

How was this c*nt so bloody hard to trace? He had to be magic. There was no other explanation for it. But if he was right, why couldn’t John find even an offhanded mention of him?

He sighed, lighting another cigarette. This was going to be another long day. Night. Whatever f*cking time of day it was, it was going to be long.

Gordon sat in his office looking through the information Batman had given him on Spiderman. He had his boys on the lookout for him, but no one had seen hide nor hair of the mysterious man since the attack by Poison Ivy. Normally, if a new potential rogue went quiet for a few nights, especially after a big fight, it wasn’t too big of an issue. Gordon could count on them to take some time to nursing their wounds. Yeah, they would be planning a new attack too, probably. But they would all have to resurface sometime. And upstarts normally weren’t very good at the whole thing yet, they would slip up.

What made the Commissioner unsettled was how little information they had on this guy. Normally he could count on this folder being a lot thicker. Normally there was some sort of information on who they might be, what they were planning, hacked emails or phone numbers.

This guy was blank. All they had was from a few sightings. Either this guy was an expert to even rival Red Robin and Oracle, or he was completely off the grid. Both options made him nervous.

That wasn’t even getting started with the fact that this guy seemed to have crazy good tech that rivaled Batman’s and might possibly be a meta. Gordon was fairly certain he was. He’d seen the way he moved up the wall and onto the ceiling. He was much too comfortable up there. And from what he’d seen of the suit, there wasn’t nearly enough advanced technology on the hands and feet to allow for that sort of motion. Especially considering he didn’t cause any damage to the tunnel itself.

He rubbed his face with one hand, looking at a security camera still of Spiderman. How old was this guy anyway? He hoped he wasn’t a child. It was bad enough that Bruce kept bringing kids into this, but he didn’t want to have the newest edition to the rogue gallery be a minor. Arkham would eat him alive.

Well, it was either he joined the rogue gallery or there was going to be a new member of the Wayne clan. Gordon sighed. He hoped this guy would turn up soon so they could figure out who the hell he was.

Chapter 21: Quiet night

Chapter Text

Dick sat on a roof looking out over the city. Somewhere to the south Bruce and Damian were dealing with some bank robbers. Tim was headed east to check out some activity at the docks. Steph and Cass had teamed up to do a drug bust. Jason was probably shooting some rival gang members.

And Dick was on Spider-watch.

They had decided to try and have at least one person actively looking for Spiderman throughout the night. They would switch off depending on who was busy, where crime was, etc. Babs was also keeping an eye around the city from the clocktower, as well as keeping tuned into the police radio for any mentions of Spiderman from them.

So far, nothing. It was frustrating.

There was a creak of metal from below him and the sound of boots on a grate. Nightwing looked down, reaching for one of his escrima before slowly relaxing at the sight of a familiar blonde head. John Constantine trudged up the fire escape and hoisted himself up onto the roof to stand near by Dick.

“Any particular reason you decided to brood on the roof of my hotel?” he asked, pulling out a cigarette.

“Coincidence.”

Constantine barked out a laugh. “In our line of work?”

Dick just shrugged, getting an eye roll out of the Brit. He lit his cigarette and took a drag.

“Any luck with your research?” Dick asked, looking over at the man.

He shook his head. “I’ve found absolutely nothing. There should be something on the magic, the man I saw, the corruption, anything. Nothing.” He took another drag.

Dick nodded. “We haven’t found anything either. I don’t know where Spiderman is, but no one’s seen him for two nights now, if we don’t see him tonight.”

The other man sighed, letting out a cloud of smoke as he did. “Just our f*cking luck, ain’t it?”

Dick nodded. “Yeah.” He sighed, leaning back and watching the skyline. He looked over at John. “You think you could find Spiderman with your magic stuff.”

John turned to look at Dick, giving him an incredulous look. “Do I look like a miracle worker to you?”

He shrugged. “I mean, you do magic.”

“Magic is a science, mate. It’s not f*cking miracles.”

“Why can’t you use your magic to find him?”

Constantine let out a huff. “If I had some more information on the guy, I could probably find him, or at least where his base of operations is. But all I have on him is some video. As far as I can tell, he’s not even magic, so I can’t try and trace that. If I had something physically from him, clothing or blood or something, I could use that to try and track him down.”

Dick sighed. “Why can’t things be simple.”

“Because if this sh*t was easy, the world wouldn’t need people like us. Yet here we are.”

“You’re a real bundle of joy, Constantine.”

John let out a quiet, amused snort, shaking his head as he took another drag of his cigarette. Dick could have sworn he saw a smirk on his face.

Peter opened one of the windows to let some fresh air in. Was it a bit of a risk as people might see it? Yeah. But he didn’t open a window onto the main street out front. And the fresh air was amazing. Fresh being a relative term, this was still Gotham.

He looked out one of the windows at the front of the building, looking out over the street. He figured it was dark enough out, and dark enough in the theater, that no one should be able to see him through the window. Especially not from where he was sitting with his chin on the windowsill.

He had an interview at Wayne Enterprises tomorrow. Assumedly with the head, or at least someone higher up, in the R&D department. He was excited and nervous. Scared really, if he was being honest. He’d put in the job request more out of sort of tribute to Mr. Stark than actual hope of getting the job. But now he had an interview in the morning.

He really should be sleeping but his mind was a blur. He didn’t know if he should have anything prepared for the interview. It was a practical exam, and he had his clothes all laid out for tomorrow. He’d decided to wear a long sleeve shirt under the button up shirt. It mostly didn’t show through, but he figured it would be better than a backpack. Plus, it would make sure that no one would see the bandages on his chest and arm. He didn’t know if he needed any tools, not that he had any to bring if he did.

Peter sighed, rubbing his face. He would just have to hope everything went well tomorrow.
In the meantime, he really needed to sleep.

Chapter 22: Practical test

Chapter Text

Tim took another sip of his coffee as he ran through his checklist again. He had a room set up with some basic circuitry, some tools, and a small, broken robot. If Peter could pass those, then they could go onto the stuff he had set up in one of the actual workshops. Tim has also made sure he put a few extra things not needed to complete the tasks, as well as putting the voltmeter and the smallest size of screwdriver in a drawer in the room.

He wasn’t just checking Peter’s actual ability, but testing to see if he would do anything with the extra components and tools. And he wanted to see what Peter would do when he was missing equipment.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, sweeping some escaped strands back behind his ear. He should have thought to throw some hair gel in or something this morning. Maybe he should ask Alfred for a haircut sometime.

There was a knock at the door. Tim startled slightly, turning to see who was there. He relaxed as he saw Cass smile and wave at him through the window. He walked over and opened the door.

“I really do appreciate you coming to help with this.”

“You keep reminding me that helping each other is what family is for,” she said with a smile as Tim let her in, closing the door behind her.

“Thanks Cass.” He was feeling calmer about this already, just knowing she was here. “I’m going to start the interview here. Assuming Peter can get through these, which shouldn’t be too hard if he was telling the truth, we’ll head to the workshop.” He turned and picked up tablet and held it out to her. “I know it’s not ideal, but you can watch his body language over the cameras while we’re in here. You should have an easy enough time once we get into the workshop.”

She took the tablet, glancing through the camera systems Tim had patched into already. She nodded, grinning at him. “I can do that.”

Tim smiled. “Thanks a million, seriously. You can use my office. No one will disturb you there. Unless Dick or one of the others decides to pop in.” He let out a sigh. Cas nodded in understanding.

Tim turned to look at the clock on the wall. They still had about fifteen minutes before the interview was set to start.

His work phone buzzed. Tim fished it out of his pocket and answered. “Tim Drake.”

“Hello, sir. There is a Peter Parker here for a 10 o’clock interview,” the receptionist said over the phone.

Tim looked at Cass, glad she understood that look instantly. “He’s early. Good. Let him know I’ll be there shortly.” He hung up, looking at Cass. “Guess it’s time.”

She nodded. The two headed out of the room. Cass turned down the hall to make it to Tim’s office as Tim continued to the lobby. He drained the rest of his coffee cup, throwing it away as he reached the doors. He paused, taking a deep breath and straightening his tie.

He was the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and head of Wayne Technology. Not to mention, he was Red Robin. He could handle whatever was about to happen. Whether that was a regular homeless kid or some interdimensional entity. He’d faced worse. Besides, if anyone had any reason to be nervous, it was Peter.

Tim nodded to himself, squaring his shoulders, and walked through the door.

“Hello. I hope you haven’t been waiting too-” The rest of his practiced speech fell away as he laid eyes on the teen sitting in the lobby. The teen, presumedly Peter, looked at Tim. Tim figured his expression matched the shocked and surprised one he was seeing on Peter’s face.

“You’re Peter Parker?” Tim asked incredulously. Peter nodded in confirmation. “You were on the subway. You jumped on the front of the train!”

“You’re the guy that helped in the control booth.” Peter seemed stunned. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing! We thought you died! How are you not dead?”

“Train slowed down enough, and I got lucky.”

Tim didn’t believe him. He shook himself to get himself to stop staring and get back some semblance of professionalism. “Well, I’m glad you’re not dead. Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and head Wayne Technologies,” he said, holding out a hand.

Peter shook it. He had a surprisingly strong grip. “Nice to meet you. CEO?”

“Yeah. Problem?” Tim asked, a bit challengingly. He was used to people not respecting him.

“No. Why are you the one doing my interview?”

Ok, fair question. He smiled a little. “Because I’m the one who asked you in for the interview. I’m curious if you really are what your resume claims you to be.”

Peter nodded, a look in his eyes telling Tim he was used to being underestimated as well. He could understand that, since it seemed like he was probably homeless.

“Alright. So, what’s this interview entail exactly?”

“Right,” Tim said, getting his head back to focusing on the whole reason why he was here. “Well, we were going to start off with some simple practical tests.”

“Great! Let’s do it.”

Tim was a little surprised by Peter’s eagerness to do the simple tests, but that could still be a good place to start. He smiled easily. “Alright. Follow me.”

Peter hoped he’d done well on the tests. He’d noticed almost right away that there was no voltmeter, Tim (he’d insisted he call him Tim instead of Mr. Drake) had pulled one out of the drawer when he’d asked about it. The tests themselves had been fairly simple and hadn’t taken too long. The only real issue had been the lack of a small enough screwdriver. However, there were some spare pieces on the table, one of which was easy enough to convert into what he needed.

Tim seemed surprised and impressed by that. That was probably good. He hoped.

Peter was now following him to one of their workshops for the second part of the practical.

“Here at WayneTech, we work with a lot of different products for both the public and private sector. A lot of what we do is in Research and Development. A lot of alien technology from various alien invasions ends up here. We use that technology to further what we are presently able to produce, whether that be improving current technologies or potentially developing new ones. However, since this is completely foreign technology, we’re never sure how helpful something is actually going to be. And it’s not like we can just call Superman to ask him about every little piece of tech we find.” Tim chuckled a little.

Peter nodded. “What sort of alien technology do you work with?”

“Anything we can get our hands on. Which is mostly what the Justice League determines isn’t extremely dangerous. Anything like that normally gets removed by Superman. Not really sure what he does with that.”

Peter nodded. Something about Tim gave him the impression that there was more to what he was saying than he let on. He was about to say something when they rounded a corner and Peter got his first glance at the workshop.

It was spectacular.

There were reinforced glass windows looking into a large room from the hall. Inside he could see at least a dozen people working. In the middle was a large metal egg-shaped thing. It looked like it might be a ship of some kind. It was in various stages of disassembly, and it looked like several components from it were laid out on tables around the workshop. He stepped closer to the window, eyes wide as he started taking this all in. He had no clue what race this could be from. It certainly wasn’t Chitauri. It didn’t look like anything else he’d seen before either.

There was a chuckle from his right. Peter turned to see Tim standing by a door leading into the workshop. “Do you want to stand there and watch, or would you like to come in and work?”

“I’d love to work on this!” Peter said, walking quickly over and waiting as Tim scanned his badge to get into the room. He looked around, enthralled. “This isn’t like any alien tech I’ve seen before.”

“You have experience working with alien technology?” Tim asked, surprised.

“A little bit. Mr. Stark had some Chitauri tech he let me work with. At my internship.” He explained. He looked over to see that Tim had taken off his suit jacket and had it hanging up on a hook by the door. Peter walked over, doing the same. “I wore a work shirt under this shirt if that’s cool.”

Tim smiled. “Very prepared I see. If you’ve got something you’re ok to get dirty in, go for it.”

Peter smiled and took off his tie and button-up shirt. He turned back to Tim after putting them on the hook under his jacket. Tim had put on a lab coat that had definitely seen some use. It looked like it was holding up well though. Peter wondered what it was made out of.

“Batman. Nice.”

Peter glanced down at his shirt. He'd forgotten what shirt he was wearing. He looked up at Tim, smiling. “Yeah. I think he’s cool.” He hoped that was the right response.

It appeared to be as Tim nodded. “He is pretty cool. Come on, you can take a look at this project over here.”

Peter followed Tim to a workbench near the ship. As he got closer, he could tell that was definitely what it was. He could see the thrusters at the bottom of it. It looked like one had been disassembled. The wings appeared to have already been removed, possibly in order to get it into the workshop.

“What sort of propulsion does it run on?” Peter asked, turning to look at Tim.

“We’re still working on that. We haven’t reached the engines yet, but we’re working on it. Carefully.”

Peter nodded in understanding, moving to look at what was on the table in front of Tim.

“We pulled this out of the co*ckpit. It was damaged in the crash, but we think it’s part of the control panels.”

Peter nodded, looking it over. It was flat and looked a bit like a curved rectangle with rounded corners. There was what looked like some buttons or dials on one side of the panel along with what could have been a screen taking up most of it. He picked it up, turning it over. The back and bottom showed signs of charring, along with some wires that had been severed.

“Were the wires cut by you or during the crash?”

“Those were from the crash.”

Peter nodded. He laid it down with the bottom up. “Have you tried to get it open?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. Can’t find how it’s held in place. And the damage isn’t such that it’s popped open. But we also only got to the co*ckpit yesterday.”

Peter nodded. “So, this hasn’t been completely investigated yet since it’s a new discovery.”

“Exactly.”

Peter ran his fingers along the side. He paused, feeling what might be a seam. “Tim, take a look right here.”

Tim moved next to Peter to look at there his hand was. He reached over and felt around the area. He looked confused for a moment before Peter saw the realization hit his face. “That’s a seam.”

Peter nodded, looking at the seam. It was barely visible, but now that he’d spotted it, he could see that it was there. He followed it around the middle of the panel. “Do you have some strong suction cups?”

“To pull it apart while you try to pop the seam.” Tim grinned.

Peter grinned back. “Exactly.”

Tim nodded and after a couple moments, was back with a stand and section cups that should work to hold it in place. Peter helped get it secured. The suction cups were strong, and luckily were able to retain tension on the surfaces of the panel.

They got to work. Tim was carefully adjusting the tension while Peter tried to get something into the seam to pry it open. It was slow going, but Peter managed to get some thin wedges into the seam. He was working on trying to extend the opening so they would be able to put it back on the table to fully open it.

That was when the hairs on his arm suddenly all stood on end. He paused, part-way through putting in another wedge, and looked up at the ship.

Tim noticed. He could feel his eyes on him. “What is it?”

Peter didn’t respond, looking at the ship. There were two people up there working on removing a panel. As one of them moved the panel out slightly, he saw a small, blinking, red light. He felt a tingle shoot down his spine as the light blinked faster and faster.

“Get away from the ship! Now!”

The two people working on the ship stopped and looked at Peter. He saw their eyes flick to Tim before quickly moving down off the platform. As they hit the floor, whatever device had been behind that panel hit critically.

Peter had just enough time to tackle Tim to the ground as the side of the ship exploded.

Cass had headed to the workshop before Tim and Peter. She had inserted herself into a project a couple of Tim’s people were working on. It had to do with something that might be a part of the engine. She played herself off as just checking on things as someone with an outside view. Luckily, she was seen around the company enough, and was known to be one of the Wayne kids, that the scientists were happy to tell her all about their project.

She was only half listening and taking notes at the moment Peter walked in, she paid attention to him as much as she could without raising suspicion from the two scientists. They were more focused on explaining everything very excitedly. As long as she nodded along, paid attention at the right times, and asked a few questions, they weren’t too much of a worry.

Peter was very interesting. She could tell he was genuinely excited about being in the workshop and was fascinated by the metal thing in the middle. The Batman shirt was a nice touch, even if Peter couldn’t know that.

Peter and Tim had gotten to work on some project Tim had out. They were both so focused. Cass ended up making an excuse to go check on some scientists a little closer to the pair so she could get a better read on them, now that their movements were smaller and Peter was hunched over. She was listening to a couple scientists talk about the applications in the communications industry, with how something they had found could potentially boost the signal of phones, if they could make it on a smaller scale, when something in Peter changed.

His body language went from focused to alert and worried in an instant. He looked around, Tim’s body language turning confused. Peter was looking at the ship. Something must be wrong with the ship. His body language quickly turned to anxiety and fear, and he tensed for movement.

“Get away from the ship! Now!”

Everyone was looking at Peter since he’d yelled. He was very alert, and something about him seemed to hover in uncertainty. Tim looked alarmed. She had enough time to see Peter turn towards her brother, moving to grab him, before she was knocked back by the explosion.

Chapter 23: Everything's FINE

Chapter Text

The wind was knocked violently out of Tim as he hit the floor, Peter on top of him. Debris flew over them, several of their tools and other unidentified objects clattered to the ground around them, some hitting Tim and Peter. Tim’s ears were ringing as the aftermath of the explosion started to set in.

He glanced around, blinking away the dots in his vision from the fall. The control panel was swinging, the two halves separated, through the space where Tim had been moments before. Then the fire suppressant system kicked in, hissing as inert gas was released into the room. The sound was muffled by the ringing in Tim’s ears.

The weight of Peter on top of him tensed as he heard the gas release as well. He shifted, looking at Tim, moving off of him a bit but clearly still in a protective position. Tim was all too familiar with this, though normally he was the one doing the protecting.

“Are you ok?”

Tim nodded, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “Yeah. But we should probably evacuate the room.”

Peter nodded, standing up. “Good idea.” He offered Tim a hand up, which he gratefully accepted.

Tim looked around. There were others picking themselves up around the room. Davis and Marshall, who had been closest, were both moving. That was good. He headed over to check on them, probably more surprised than he should have been that Peter was already over there.

“You both ok?” Tim asked, helping Davis up.

The man nodded. “I think I’m ok.”

“He’s got a burn on his arm,” Peter said, supporting Marshall.

Tim nodded. “Help them get out. I’m going to make sure everyone else gets out.”

Peter nodded and headed towards the door with the pair. Tim looked around, trying to check that everyone was ok. Most people were already close to the doors. He spotted Cass helping some people out. They made eye contact. Tim glanced towards where Peter was visible through the windows helping people in the hall. Cass nodded, getting the message, and headed out with the group she was helping.

Tim found Francis was stuck partly under a table and helped Marcus get her out. Everyone else seemed to be accounted for, so he helped Marcus support Francis out. They got out into the hallway and made their way to the nearest emergency exit. Once they got outside, he helped get her to sit down on the sidewalk. She probably had a twisted ankle.

Looking around, it seemed like everyone was alright. A bit shaken and several sporting minor injuries, but it looked like Marshall’s burn was the worst of it.

Cass appeared at his elbow, causing him to jump slightly. She smirked a little. “That’s a fail.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

“Bruce and Dick are on their way, along with the fire department.”

Tim nodded, looking back at the outside of the building. He could hear the fire alarm in the background. “This could have been worse.”

She nodded. “Peter noticed there was a problem before it exploded.”

He nodded. “No clue how. But I’m glad he did. Probably saved Davis and Marshall’s lives.”

“Yours too.”

Tim looked at her and nodded, remembering the control panel swinging through the air. “Yeah.”

He turned and looked at Peter. He was making sure people were alright. He glanced up and saw Tim looking over at him. He walked over to him and Cass.

“You both ok?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, thanks to you.”

Peter smiled a little. “Just trying to help.”

“You did more than help today.”

“You’re hurt,” Cass said, looking at Peter intently.

Peter tensed up. “I’m fine.” Tim could tell he was lying. Now that Cass had pointed it out, he could see the tension in his shoulders. He was hurt and trying to hide it.

“Peter, did you get hurt?” Tim asked, his voice full of worry and insistence.

“It’s an old injury. I’ll be fine. I swear.” He was being dodgy.

“We can get you medical help.”

“I don’t have insurance or any way to pay for medical treatment. I’ll be fine. I swear. There’s a free clinic I can go to.”

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. “How bad is it?”

“It’s not that bad. At worst, I pulled a couple stitches. I’ll be ok. I promise.”

Tim glanced over at Cass. She looked over at Tim and gave the tiniest nod. He was telling the truth. Tim sighed.

“Can you at least get checked by the ambulance? Wayne Enterprises will cover any medical expenses.”

Peter looked reluctant but sighed. “Ok.”

Tim smiled. “Thank you. For everything. Making sure you’re ok is the least we can do.”

Peter smiled a little. “I’m happy to be of help.”

Bruce got out of the car almost before he actually turned it off. Dick had bailed out as soon as he slowed down to park. He walked swiftly over to where his eldest son was worrying over Tim and Cass. There were several fire trucks, ambulances, and multiple police cars on scene blocking off the streets.

“Are you two alright?” he asked, worried. They didn’t appear to be injured, which was good.

Tim nodded, trying to wave Dick off of him. “Yeah, Bruce. We’re ok. Peter noticed something was up right before part of the ship exploded. Kept me from taking a control panel to the head.”

“Part of the ship exploded?” That was a recent acquisition from a Justice League mission. If that was the source of the fire… “Do you know what component may have caused it?”

Tim shook his head. “It was a new section we were opening up. First time we’d tried to take a look at it.” He paused, glancing around. They were a little ways removed from others, along with the sound of many sirens to help drown them out. “It might be a good idea to have Sups come take a look at it.”

Bruce looked at his son. He could see the nervousness in his eyes at the suggestion. Bruce didn’t like to pull others into his city. Especially not metas. That included Clark. But he could see the determination set in his jaw. Tim was willing to argue with Bruce on this one. And he did have a valid point.

He nodded. “I think you’re right on this. We don’t want any more accidents. I’ll give him a call.”

Bruce pulled out his phone and stepped away for a moment. He could hear his boys bickering in the background as Dick tried to mother hen Tim. He called Clark and waited for him to pick up.

“Hey Bruce. What’s up?” Clark sounded chipper as usual, though Bruce could tell there was an uncertain tone to his voice.

“Part of the ship from the Argentina incident blew up on Tim. He’s fine, but I would appreciate it if you were able to come make sure that won’t happen again.”

He could hear Clark suck in a breath on the other end of the line. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Thank you.” Bruce hung up, putting his phone in his pocket. He looked around the scene and paused, seeing a teen sitting off to the side on the back of an ambulance with his shirt off. The fact that Bruce didn’t recognize him wasn’t what concerned him, what concerned Bruce was that there were bandages wrapped around his torso and arm. He kept trying to wave off the EMT’s as they tried to remove the bandages. It reminded him of many instances of his children after particularly bad patrols. Times when he could have lost them.

He glanced over at his children. They were fine for the moment, talking with each other. He could investigate this child and come back to check on them again.

Bruce walked over to the ambulance, focusing on trying to listen in on what the teen was saying as soon as possible.

“-not bleeding through the bandages. It’s fine.”

“That’s not how that works,” said a very tired sounding EMT.

The teen was about to say something else when he stiffened and turned to look at Bruce. He noticed the teen’s grip on the shirt in his hands tightened, his shoulders and back tensing at the same time. He could tell the action hurt where muscle groups under the bandage pulled on wounds.

“Hello. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you Peter Parker?”

The teen looked wary and suspicious. “Who are you?” The EMT’s looked a little surprised at his question but hid it fairly well. Bruce just smiled his casual playboy smile.

“Bruce Wayne. Wayne Enterprises is my company.”

“I thought Tim Drake was the CEO.”

“He is. Tim is my son. He took over after I was indisposed for a period of time.”

The teen nodded a little, still seeming suspicious of Bruce. “Why do you want to know who I am?”

Interesting question. Very interesting question. “Because I wanted to personally thank Peter Parker for saving my son. So, are you Peter?”

The teen’s muscles slowly relaxed. He glanced away from Bruce. “Yeah.”

Bruce nodded. “Thank you, Peter. Are you hurt?”

Peter’s jaw tensed in frustration. “I’m fine. I can take care of it myself.”

It looked like Peter was about to say something else when he suddenly tensed, looking up. Bruce was confused before a moment later Superman appeared in the air above them. Bruce noticed that Peter was watching him very intently.

Superman landed near them, glancing at Peter and doing a double take. “Are you ok, son?”

“I’m fine,” Peter said defensively. He pulled his shirt over his head, both Bruce and Clark sharing a knowing look as he winced while doing it. Bruce did notice that he was wearing a Batman shirt and felt just a little self-satisfied. He saw the corner of Clark’s mouth twitch slightly as he saw it too. But it was quickly schooled as this was still a serious situation.

“The bandages would suggest otherwise.”

“Are you here because of the ship that blew up? It’s possible that there are more components that are potentially booby-trapped or that something else might reach criticality.”

A very blunt way to change the subject.

“Young man, you’re clearly injured.”

“I’ll be fine.” The teen was getting defensive and Bruce could tell he was slowly panicking.

Bruce looked at Clark. “Peter’s right, you should check the ship. I would hate if this situation got any worse.”

Superman looked at him and nodded. He looked at Peter. “You should get medical treatment for those wounds.”

Bruce and Peter both watched Clark fly off, heading towards the building. Once he was out of sight, Bruce looked back at Peter.

“Are you sure-”

Peter cut him off. “Please, don’t.”

Bruce looked at Peter. The teen’s shoulders slumped forward like a great weight was resting on them.

“Look, you don’t know me. You might be actually concerned about me. You might just want to repay a supposed favor for making sure Tim was ok. You might just be making sure I don’t turn into a PR nightmare. I don’t really care. I came here for an interview because I need a job and I had some vain hope this might work out. Now if you don’t mind, I just want to be able to go to home and get some rest.”

He watched him. Peter looked exhausted. Bruce could tell he was hiding something, more than just the injuries under the bandages. Not to mention that there were a number of bruises and cuts that ranged from nearly healed to maybe a few days old. It could be that Peter was just an unlucky Crime Alley kid, but it could also be that he was involved with crime. Or he could be who Constantine was after. Bruce was worried but refused to let his worry over a child stop him from protecting his city. However, Peter did not appear to pose an immediate threat, and had done things that were beneficial to Bruce and Gotham. But he was still dodgy about his injuries. There were still suspicious circ*mstances surrounding him.

“Are you safe at home?”

Peter looked up at him. “What?”

“Wherever you’re staying, is it safe?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. It’s safe enough.”

Bruce pursed his lips slightly but decided against pressing the matter further. He heard footsteps hurrying towards them and turned to see Dick jogging over.

“Hey, B. Police are asking after you. Is this Peter?”

“Ok. Thanks Dick, I’ll go talk to them. And yes, this is Peter.” He gave Peter a look and opened his mouth to say something before closing it with a sigh. He headed off to talk with the police.

Peter watched him go out of the corner of his eye, head hanging. He made eye contact with Dick before looking away. “Are you here to ask if I’m ok too? Because I’m fine. Just tried.”

He sounded tired. But more than just an adrenaline crash or lack of sleep sort of tired. Dick would know. He had extensive experience with both.

“Well, partly. Tim's worried about you. But I also just wanted to chat if that’s ok. Mind if I sit?”

Peter lifted his head and looked at Dick. He gave him a once over before scooting over, making room for Dick to sit next to him on the back of the ambulance. “Yeah, ok.”

Dick smiled and sat down next to him. “I guess I should probably thank you for saving my brother. I think that makes it twice now.”

“Twice?”

“You were that kid on the train, weren’t you.”

Peter nodded, looking at his hands. “Yeah. That was me.”

“I’m glad you’re alive. We were worried.”

“Why?” Peter asked, cutting off what Dick had been about to say.

“We weren’t sure if you made it out or not. You were on the front of the train according to Tim. Which is absolutely insane! And now you save Tim and two other men’s lives. It’s like you’re a hero.” He was curious how he would react to that statement.

“I’m not a hero. I’m just… doing what I can, you know? There’s not always a hero there to save you. Sometimes you have to be your own hero.” There was a look in his eyes as he said that. Something almost sad with a curious weight to it.

Dick smiled. “Yeah.” He looked out into the distance ahead of them. “Just regular, everyday heroes.”

Peter nodded next to him. They sat quietly, the sound of the emergency vehicles and city traffic behind them.

“I’m Dick Grayson, by the way,” he said, holding his hand out.

Peter shook his hand. “Peter Parker.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter.”

“You too.”

Clark looked at the alien spaceship. He could see where the explosion must have originated from based on the blackened area of the hull. He looked into the ship, scanning through it layer by layer. He’d checked the ship for bombs. The only thing that should have possibly given them any problems would be the engines. He knew Tim was smart enough to be careful with that.

So, what had happened here?

If only this thing came with a user manual. Clark wasn’t exactly a tech expert. That was Bruce’s field. And it didn’t help that the explosion had destroyed whatever had caused the explosion.

He wasn’t here to figure out what had caused the explosion, Tim and Bruce would certainly do that later. Clark was here to see if anything else was going to blow up on them like that again.

That teen, Bruce called him Peter, was bugging him. He’d been hurt, but not from the explosion. He knew life in Gotham could be hard. The fact that Bruce had a small army of vigilantes trying to protect the city was testament to that fact.

Jason Todd was testament to that fact.

But that didn’t look like the typical Gothamite injuries. It could be that he had a bad home life. Or he was involved in crime in some way. He had been very stiff and on edge when Clark had shown up.

Clark sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He was getting distracted. He took a deep breath and took another look at the ship. From what he could tell, it shouldn’t explode again. He still didn’t know what caused the first explosion in the first place. Best talk with Tim about it.

He walked back outside, heading back over to the Waynes. Bruce was standing by his car, Tim leaning on the hood with Cass sitting on it next to him. They all looked over as he stopped a few feet from them.

“I don’t believe there will be a similar explosion, but it’s hard to say for certain without knowing the cause of the explosion.”

Tim nodded. “Got it. I’ll make sure we’re more careful in the future.”

Clark nodded. “Is everyone alright?”

“A little shaken, but we’ll manage.”

Clark glanced in the direction of the ambulance where the teen was sitting. He used his x-ray vision to see through the car between them. It looked like Dick was sitting with him. He turned back to the rest of the Waynes. “That teen…”

“Peter?” Tim asked. Clark nodded.

“We’ll be keeping an eye on him,” Bruce said. “You should talk with the police and fire department before someone gets suspicious.”

“Yes. Stay safe.”

Tim watched Superman leave and sighed. “I’ll have to check the ship tomorrow. I hope this doesn’t cause too many project delays.”

“Be careful Tim, you heard what Superman said. There’s a possibility it might explode again. I don’t want you working on it alone.” Bruce looked worried.

Tim nodded, pushing off of the car. “Yeah. I know. I’m going to talk to Peter.”

“I’ll come-”

“No, Bruce. I’m going to talk to him on my own.” He shot the man a look before heading over to the ambulance. Dick appeared to be halfway through a story as he approached.

“-Bruce was so mad. But you should have seen the look on Senator Bradley’s face.”

Peter chuckled a little, glancing over at Tim as he walked over.

“Are you telling Peter your gala horror stories?” Tim asked, looking at Dick.

“Hey, they’re not horror stories.”

“Not to you,” Tim chuckled. “Mind if I chat with Peter alone for a moment?”

Dick glanced at Peter who suddenly looked nervous. “Ok. If he bothers you too much, you can just push him over. He’s a twig.” Dick smirked as he jumped off the back of the ambulance. He gave Tim a warning look before heading off. Tim noticed Dick didn’t go very far, just enough to give them some privacy, but close enough to come back in an instant.

“Mind if I sit?”

“Ok.”

Tim smiled and chambered up next to Peter. He took a deep breath. “Sorry the interview didn’t go as expected.”

Peter let out a humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“You did a good job today.”

Peter looked over at Tim in surprise. “I did?”

“Yes. I honestly didn’t have a lot of expectations going into the interview, but you blew them all away. You showed that you not only have the skills to back up your resume, but that you’re able to adapt when need be. Now, I’m not saying anything’s finalized as I still need to go over some things. But I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Peter looked at him in stunned amazement for several long moments. “Wow. Uh, thanks.”

Tim smiled. “You should be hearing from us soon, one way or another.”

Peter nodded. “Ok. Thank you.”

John took a drag on his cigarette, watching as Tim spoke with a teenager who had to be Peter. Since he’d arrived, John had seen Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Superman all talk with him. That had to be the guy.

He took another drag on his cigarette blowing out the smoke. He started muttering a spell, focusing on Peter. The smoke swirled in front of John’s face, forming a circle around Peter. He watched closely, looking for any sign that Peter had or had been around magic.

After several long moments, the smoke dissipated. John chewed on his cigarette in disbelief.

“Nothing.” Not even a whisper of magic. As far as John could tell, Peter wasn’t who came through.

That answer didn’t sit right with John. It didn’t explain why he was looking for a Dr. Strange that didn’t exist who apparently lived in a sanctum. It didn’t make sense. John would need to get closer to Peter. Check again, talk with him.

A police car passed in front of John. By the time it was gone, Peter had disappeared.

“Ah, bullocks."

Chapter 24: A closer look

Chapter Text

Peter didn’t end up going to Leslie’s clinic. He’d dealt with too many people poking and prodding him and pestering him and asking if he was ok. He was tired.

But he was also hungry. Very hungry. He headed to the soup kitchen. It was about as busy as it usually was when he walked in. He made his way through the line. Julia was working on the line. She smiled when she saw him.

“Hey Peter. How’d that job interview go?” she asked, starting to make him a plate.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think it went well but I don’t know. There was a small explosion that kinda ended it early.”

“What?” She looked instantly worried. Peter quickly waved her off.

“I’m fine. I promise. Just a few scrapes.”

She sighed. “Any idea if you’ll hear back?”

“Yeah. Tim said I should hear back soon either way.”

“Well, that’s good. Hopefully you get it.”

“I hope so too.”

She handed him his tray and he smiled, heading to a table to eat.

“I don’t think it’s Peter,” John said, walking out of a portal and into the batcave. He noticed at least three different weapons lower as he walked in. Paranoid bastards. “I checked for signs of magic from a little ways away and got nothing back. Took a look at that suit top. Just a normal suit. Kid doesn’t seem to have anything supernaturally weird about him,”

“You’re certain?” Batman asked.

“Yeah, mate. I’m certain. I’m the bloody wizard here. It’s not him.” John pulled out a cigarette and went to light it before it was snatched from his mouth by Nightwing. The dick. Pun not intended.

“What about Dr. Strange and the sanctum?” Red Robin asked, tilting his head.

“Wish I could tell you mate. I’ve asked some of the other Dark members. None of them know a Doctor Strange. Maybe the guy’s a bit mental.”

“He has some brain damage.”

There was a pregnant pause as everyone looked over at Nightwing. The man was looking down, fiddling with the cigarette he stole from John in a gloved hand.

“Explain,” Batman demanded gruffly, taking a step towards him.

Nightwing sighed, looking up. “I ran into him a couple nights ago. Didn’t realize it was him at the time. He’d just come back from Leslie’s clinic and apparently found out he had some brain damage and possible memory loss. God, B, he was so broken up about it. He’s got no one. He said all his friends and family were all gone.”

A heavy silence filled the room, only broken up by the hum of electricity and the sounds of bats flying above them.

“When he first came into the library he tried calling someone but couldn’t get the right person. He was having a breakdown in the payphone booth because he didn’t know how he was going to get home,” Oracle’s voice said from the batcomputer speakers.

“He’s a good kid.” Every turned as Red Hood spoke up from where he was standing off to the side. “He’s saved Timbers ass, what, twice now? And he volunteers.”

“Where?” Batman latched on to the potential new information like a damn piranha.

“B, you’re not f*cking interrogating him.”

“Hood-”

“Don’t you f*cking start.”

“Oi!” The two men turned to look over at John, who let out a heavy sigh. “Can you tell me where he volunteers. I’ll go take a close look at him and confirm he’s not who we’re after. Alright? And if this guy is just some sorry son of a bitch just like everyone else in this god forsaken hellhole, no offense, then we just leave him the f*ck alone and work on trying to find Spiderman or whatever else might be behind all this? Savvy?”

There was some shared looks before at least some of the gathered Bats nodded.

Jason nodded. “Fine. Just as long as you leave him alone if it’s not him. He volunteers at the soup kitchen in Crime Alley.”

“Can you get me the address?”

Peter smiled as he handed the woman her tray. “Have a good breakfast.”

She smiled appreciatively before heading to find a seat. Peter walked around behind Amy and Rory who were also volunteering this morning. They were both on the line as it hit the rush, but once the line died down a bit and dishes piled up a bit, Rory would be popping back into the kitchen. Peter picked up a tray to begin helping the next person then the door opened and all his hairs stood on end.

He looked up seeing a blond man in a trench coat walk in, looking around the room. Nothing about him seemed inherently more suspicious than the average Gothamite, but he was setting off Peter’s spider sense. He didn’t like it.

He turned back to the young man who was next, smiling and getting him his food, making some idle conversation. The whole time, Peter stayed hyper-aware of the trenchcoated man.

Dread sank to the pit of his stomach when he walked back to the start of the line to find the very man that put his teeth on edge was next. Peter plastered on a smile, trying to pretend everything was just fine and that the man didn’t make him want to crawl out of his skin for some unknown reason.

“Good morning! Would you like some oatmeal?”

“Yeah. That'd be great,” he said in a surprisingly British accent. It surprised Peter.

“From out of town?” he asked, scooping some oatmeal into a bowl.

“Yeah. You don’t sound like you’re from here either.”

“New Yorker myself.”

“Ah.” The man nodded. “What brings you to Gotham of all places?”

“Hey, don’t speak badly of the city around its people. Sausage?”

The man raised his hands in surrender. “No harm meant. But a New Yorker in New Jersey? And yes to the sausage.”

Peter sighed, putting a couple of the little sausages onto a plate. “Just passing through. Trying to get home.”

“Not planning to stay?”

“New York's home. Apple or orange?”

The man nodded. “Orange.”

“Toast?”

“You got jam?”

“Strawberry ok?”

“Strawberry will do fantastic, mate.”

Peter smiled, putting a couple slices of toast and a little plastic container with a serving of strawberry jam on the plate. He set an empty cup on the tray before sliding it across the pass to the man. “Water fountain's on the wall by the tray return. Enjoy.”

“Thanks mate. Cheers.” He picked up his tray, heading over to the tables to eat. Peter turned, heading to help the next person. He could feel the man watching him but tried to ignore it as he helped others. He didn’t know why the man creeped him out so much. Aside from the fact that he could swear he was still watching him.

Maybe he would mention it to Jason the next time he saw him. The thought shot a sudden pang of anxiety through him. Jason had already done so much to help him. And with everything happening lately with the Bats, he didn’t want to drag anyone else down with him. He knew what happened to people who got close to him. He didn’t want anything to happen to the people he’d mat in Gotham who were willing to help him.

“Peter!”

Julia’s voice shook his from his thoughts. He paused, midway back to the start of the line. “Yeah?” he called, looking over at her as she walked towards him.

“Come on. You’ve been on your feet for three hours helping. You’re limping again. Get some food and have a seat.”

“I’m fine, really-”

“Ah-ah. Can’t have you exacerbating your injuries. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not my doctor.” Peter protested weakly, accepting the tray that was pressed into his hands.

“No, but I can call up Red Hood again to drag you to your doctor if need be.”

He paled slightly at the thought. “Nope. Don’t need to do that. I’m good.”

She smiled, giving him food and patting him on the back as she sent him out to find a spot to sit. “Good call. Enjoy your breakfast.”

He sighed, smiling a bit as he looked for an open seat. The line had calmed down, but the tables were mostly full.

Except for right around creepy trench coat guy.

Great.

John watched as Peter was taken off the line and given some food before being sent out to eat. He tried to act inconspicuous, focusing on eating his oatmeal. He was not a big fan of it, but he was going to eat it. Even so, he did not miss Peter seeming to die a little inside seeing that practically all of the open seats were near John.

He was almost surprised when Peter came and sat down in the empty space across from him. He did notice the teen pointedly ignoring John’s presence. John couldn’t leave it alone though. This was a f*cking golden opportunity practically dropped into his lap. There was no way in Hell John wasn’t taking advantage of it.

“Are you even chewing any of that?” John asked, raising an eyebrow as Peter practically inhaled his oatmeal. It took a moment for the guy to swallow his mouthful enough to talk.

“It’s oatmeal.”

“You’re going to choke. Don’t think your doctor would approve.” He took a pointed bite of his toast.

Peter’s ears went a bit red and his shoulders hunched up to try and cover them. Or, at least one of them did. Other shoulder hardly moved. Odd. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t make me have to give you the Heimlich.”

“I’m pretty sure they changed the name to abdominal thrusts years ago.”

John shrugged, picking at the peel of his orange. “Same sh*t.”

Peter looked at him, mouth and eyebrows pinched in thought. John raised an eyebrow in return.

“Something on your mind, kid?”

“What brings you to Gotham?”

“Needed a change of scenery,” he lied smoothly, taking another bite of toast. “Why?”

Peter just shook his head, looking back down at his tray and poking at his oatmeal. “No reason. Just curious.”

John frowned slightly, chewing on a bite of toast. Peter was focused on his breakfast. He was still eating fast, but he’d at least slowed down slightly. John needed to figure out for sure if Peter was who they were looking for without drawing attention to himself. So far at least, all the signs pointed to Peter being a normal teenager. But John had run into things that could pretend to be a normal person before. This could be an instance like that.

“You said you were passing through on your way to New York. Where’re you coming from?”

Peter froze, just for a moment, but it was long enough for John to spot it. “Bit of a long story.”

“Really? What’s the short version?”

Peter glanced up at him. There was a nervousness in his eyes. It was a look John was all too familiar with, that distrust that followed John almost everywhere. But as far as John knew, Peter didn’t have a reason to distrust John.

Well, apart from him being a stranger in Gotham.

“New York. Ended up outside Gotham accidentally.”

“How do you accidentally end up the other side of a state?”

“Jersey isn’t that big of a state.”

“Mate, that wasn’t what I was asking.”

Peter sighed, looking down at his plate. John could practically see the teen shutting himself off as he poked at his food. “It’s a long story. I’m just trying to find my way home.”

John could tell that Peter didn’t want to talk about it. Unfortunately for him, John did want to talk about it. And he was a little bit of an ass, if he did say so himself. Which he did.

“Tried calling someone?”

“Yes,” he said dejectedly.

“Ah. Tough sh*t mate. What are you planning to do now?”

“Trying to get a job. Earn enough money to survive while I’m here and get myself a way home.”

John nodded. “Best of luck with that.”

“Thanks.” Peter shoveled the last of his food in his mouth and stood up. “I should get back to work.”

f*ck. If he was going to get something more concrete from this guy, now was the time. “You really like helping people, don’t you?”

Peter paused, looking at John, a confused expression on his face. “Yeah. Of course.”

He nodded. “Be careful or you’ll get yourself killed.”

Peter let out a breathy chuckle. “I’ll try my best not to.”

He turned and put his tray in the dish return, talking with the people on the other side for a moment. John shoveled the rest of his food in his mouth, pocketing the orange. Quickly, he got up and went to put his dishes away before Peter’s could be taken. As he got to the window, he adjusted the dishes to make sure they all fit in the space, slipping Peter’s spoon up his sleeve before making his way out of the soup kitchen.

A spoon wasn’t the best thing he could use, but hopefully it should work for John’s purposes. He walked a couple blocks before slipping into an alley and pulling the spoon out of his sleeve. He sat on the ground, pulling out some chalk and drawing a circle.

It took a few moments to get all the symbols drawn correctly, but when he was done, he placed the spoon in the center and started muttering the spell. He could feel his magic swirling around him as the spell took effect.

Nothing.

He sighed, ending the spell. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it. Standing, he kicked the spoon and used his shoe to scuff out his circle to just a smudge on the ground.

“He’s just some poor sap.” John sighed, smoke swirling around him. “I need to talk with Spiderman.”

Chapter 25: Just a little chat

Chapter Text

Peter had taken a few nights to rest. His wounds were doing better now. He sat in the bathroom in the theater, checking his injuries and redoing the bandages as needed.

The gash in his thigh from the train crash had finally healed to the point where it was just a pale pink scar. He looked at it for a long moment, running his finger over it, feeling the slightly raised and tender skin. Ever since he’d gotten bit my that spider, he hadn’t gotten scars. His injuries all healed quickly and without scaring. So, despite all the fights he got into, regardless of how many times he ended up bloody, no matter how many times he nearly died, he didn’t show any physical signs of it after a few days.

But now there was a pale scar running up his thigh.

Once he was able to get a bit more food intake, he figured it would probably go away. With the soup kitchen, the food pantry, and a bit of dumpster diving, he had enough food to sustain a normal person. But Peter wasn’t a normal person. He’d long since burned through what little fat reserves he had on his body. He worried that his body might start trying to eat away at his muscles soon, which Peter really didn’t want.

The gunshot wounds were looking better. The glancing shot he’d taken to the arm was a pink scar now. The other ones looked less likely to accidentally tear open again. Peter let out a small sigh. He’d go out as Spider-man again tonight.

Tim sighed, rolling himself out from under the ship. He got up, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Any luck?”

“Maybe. It’s hard to tell because the explosion damaged a lot of the components. But my best guess is that there was something that was triggered when we opened that panel. Not sure if it was intentional or not. Could have been that something in the crash got damaged and removing the panel caused enough jostling that it triggered the explosion. I’m hoping this thing has a black box. That would be helpful.”

Dick nodded, tossing Tim a water bottle that he caught easily. “Any chance it will happen again?”

“I don’t think so. But I’m going to go over everything I can before I let anyone else in here.”

“You need to let people help you, Tim. That’s their job. That’s why you hired half of them.”

“I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.” Tim sighed, setting down the water and leaning against the workbench Dick wasn’t leaning on. “If Peter hadn’t noticed something, we could have had two deaths on our hands. I wasn’t careful enough. It’s my job to make sure everybody’s safe.”

Dick watched him as Tim drank some of the water. They were silent for a long moment.

“What did you think about Peter?”

Tim let out a small chuckle. “He’s extremely competent. I’m not fully certain what’s going on with his resume, but he’s got the skills. He’d be a good asset.”

“You’re going to hire him then?”

“I’ll have to talk with the board. But I want to.”

“Going to keep an eye on him too.”

“Of course. What do you take me for?”

Dick chuckled. “Nothing short of paranoid and analytical.”

Tim narrowed his eyes slightly. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“I’ve got a sighting of Spiderman in the Bowery, east end, by the Gotham bank.”

“On my way.” Dick changed directions, heading towards the Bowery. “What’s he doing?”

“He appears to be talking with someone. No idea what they’re talking about as I can’t see either of their faces.”

“What’s the plan?” Tim asked, clearly also following Oracle’s directions.

“Do not engage. Reconnaissance only. We need to find out more about him.”

“Alright, B.” Dick landed on a roof, glancing around. “O, how far am I?”

“Three blocks north of target. He’s making his way East with the other person. Casual speed. Figure appears to be female. No one I recognize.”

“It’s not one of my girls, is it?” Jason asked, sounding protective.

“Can’t tell. Spiderman is between her and the camera.”

“I don’t care what B or Constantine say. If he hurt one of my girls, I’m putting a bullet in his skull.”

“Hood. We need him alive.”

“No one messes with my people, B.”

Dick’s feet landed softly on a rooftop. He crept to the edge, looking down. “I got eyes on scene.”

The coms fell silent, B and Jay both stopping their argument to wait for updates. Dick quickly and quietly made his way across the rooftops of the adjoining buildings until he was only a couple buildings behind Spiderman and the woman he was walking with. She was blonde and wearing a sweater with messenger bag. Looked like a college student.

“-I had a chemistry test the next day. You know, I’m pretty good at chemistry but I almost failed that test! Nearly fell asleep on the last question. I have never seen my chemistry teacher so disappointed in me.”

The woman laughed. “Oh my god. Did you pass the class?”

“Yeah. I did all of my homework. Well, almost all of my homework. Missed a couple assignments because I had to fight a guy from Brooklyn.”

“Good to know heroes have some normal guy problems too.”

“I wouldn’t really count myself as a hero,” Spiderman said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Heroes deal with big problems. I just help out the little guys like us.”

The woman smiled and pat Spiderman’s arm. “Well, you seem like a hero to me.”

“Thanks.”

The two walked in silence for a moment. Dick took it to update the Bats waiting anxiously on the other side of the com line, moving quietly across the rooves to keep pace with the two below him.

“Woman with him is blonde, looks to be a college student. Appears uninjured.”

“What were they talking about?”

“School. Spiderman mentioned he almost failed a chemistry test because he fought a guy from Brooklyn.”

He saw the shape of Red Robin land on a roof across the street from Dick, beginning to track the duo as well. “That has to be from before he came to Gotham. Tracks with prior information of him being from Queens.”

“Possible gang connections?” Jay asked.

“Uncertain. He claimed to be a superhero in our first meeting.”

“Which makes it interesting that he just claimed he’s not a hero.”

“Hmm.”

“They’ve stopped,” Dick announced, stopping and dropping to a crouch on the edge of the roof, watching closely.

“Thank you for walking me home.”

“No problem. That’s my job. I normally set a phone alarm or two in case I lose track of time studying. It should at least keep you from walking home at 10pm.”

The woman chuckled a little. “I’ll have to remember that. Thanks again.”

“Happy to help. Have a good night.” Spiderman waved, taking a couple steps backwards toward the empty street.

“You too.” She waved before turning and making her way into one of the apartment buildings.

Dick stayed stock still, watching Spiderman with bated breath. The masked man let out a heavy sigh that Dick saw in the rise and fall of his shoulders. His head suddenly glanced upwards towards the rooftops Tim and Dick were on before turning and jumping. A web shot out from his wrist, propelling Spiderman forwards down the street. Dick and Tim both sprang into pursuit.

“We’re moving. South down Roosevelt.”

“I’m moving to cut him off.”

“Do not engage.”

“We’re just going to try and talk to him.”

Spiderman was faster with his webs than Dick and Tim were with their grappling hooks. Part of that could be that he had two compared to their one. But Jason was on his bike ahead of them.

As they approached an intersection, Dick watched Spiderman reach out with his right arm like he was going to turn the corner. Only nothing happened, no webbing came out. The man started falling quickly towards the ground.

“Red!”

“I see it!”

They wouldn’t be fast enough. They wouldn’t be able to catch him. And it wasn’t a guarantee he would survive the fall.

Suddenly, a thin web shot out, catching on a nearby building. Spiderman swung himself forward, sticking to the side. He looked back at them before starting to climb.

“He appears to have a problem with his right side webs. Heading to the roof.”

“I’m two blocks away. Don’t let the bastard leave.”

“Don’t plan on it.”

Dick landed on the roof shortly after Spiderman reached it. Tim landed to his right not long after. Dick walked towards him, hands out like he was trying to placate a wild animal.

“Hey. We just want to-” Dick cut himself off, dodging back from a punch swung by Spiderman.

He took a step back, dodging another blow. When Spiderman swung another punch aimed at his head, he parried and countered with an elbow aimed at Spiderman’s ribs. Spiderman grunted, partly from the hit to his lungs, partly from what sounded like pain.

Tim stepped forward to help Dick and was rewarded for his actions with a sweep to the legs. Dick tried to grab onto Spiderman, but the suit’s material was slick under his fingers. And the man himself was fast, seeming to anticipate Dick’s movements before he even thought of them.

“We just want to talk!” Dick exclaimed, trying to get some sort of hold on him.

Spiderman dodged their blows, shooting out a section of webbing from his left hand. It caught on Dick’s shoulder. With a jerk that was much stronger than he was expecting, Dick was yanked off his feet, tumbling across the roof.

“Hey!”

Spiderman froze for a moment, one hand gripping Tim’s staff. Dick glanced up smiling a little as he saw Jason standing just a couple feet away from him, guns pointing at Spiderman.

“Stand down and no one gets hurt.”

“Says the guy with two loaded guns.”

Tim took the moment of Spiderman’s distraction to try and pull his staff free. Spiderman’s attention instantly snapped back to Tim, using Tim’s momentum and sweeping one leg out from under him so he landed on his back, one hand still on his staff.

A shot rang through the air, causing Spiderman to flinch instinctively. Dick didn’t see any signs of new injuries so Jason must have given him a warning shot.

“Last chance. Drop the staff.”

“If you’ll lower the guns.”

Dick went to stand up, only to find that the webbing was attached to the roof. Best he could do at the moment was crouch awkwardly. He glanced at Jason, seeing his helmet turn slightly towards him. Dick nodded.

Jason sighed, lowering the guns slowly. Spiderman let go of Tim’s staff as he did, taking a couple steps away from him. Dick noticed that he positioned himself closer to the edge of the roof. Tim got up, keeping his staff out but with one tip planted on the ground. Dick knew his brothers well enough to know that they could both spring into action at a moment’s notice.

“What do you guys want?” Spiderman asked, clearly still on edge. Dick couldn’t exactly blame him.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Jason demanded.

Spiderman glanced between them, at least Dick assumed he did based on the small head movements. He didn’t know Spiderman like he knew his siblings. Dick couldn’t tell what facial expression Spiderman was making under the mask like he could with his family.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Spider-man. And that’s Spider-man, with a hyphen. Spider hyphen man. Everyone always forgets the hyphen. The papers are spelling it as one word and it really annoys me. You know?”

“Ok. Spider-man, with a hyphen,” Dick said, looking at him. This was the first time they’d really talked with him, and he was just realizing how… young he sounded. How old was this guy? “Why are you in Gotham?”

Spider-man went quiet for a moment. “It’s a long story.”

“I don’t think I’m going anywhere anytime soon,” Dick said, gesturing at the webbing currently trapping him to the spot on the roof.

Spider-man shifted his weight, glancing around between them. It seemed like he didn’t like standing still. Dick could relate to that. “I didn’t mean to be here. It was an accident. And as soon as I can figure out how to get home, I’ll leave. Ok?”

“That didn’t answer the f*cking question,” Jason said, with what Dick knew had to be a glare.

“What else do you want?” Spider-man asked, waving his arms in exasperation. “I don’t know how I got here! I just did!”

“Nightwing, attempt to confirm if he is our suspect.”

Spider-man’s head tilted to the side for a moment before the eyes on his mask narrowed slightly. “Hold on. Suspect?”

Dick startled, as did Tim and Jason, both of them tensing. Dick tried to remain a neutral expression. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Spider-man backed towards the edge of the roof. “No, you think I’m a suspect. Does this have to do with the plant lady? Or the train? Because I was not involved in either of those. Well, I was involved in the plant lady thing, but not with her!”

“Calm down. Let’s just talk this over. No one said anything-”

“Yes, you did! I heard it over your radio. Is this why you keep attacking me?”

“Do not let Spider-man leave.”

“Spider-man, wait.” Dick tried to get up again as he stepped towards the edge of the roof. Tim moved forward, Jason pulling his guns back out.

Spider-man shook his head, balls of his feet on the edge of the building. He seemed to suddenly tense before glancing to his left briefly. Without warning, he jumped.

Tim rushed forward, grappling hook out. Shots rang out as Jason tried to incapacitate Spider-man. He lowered the guns as Tim jumped off, trying to head after him, swearing. He shoved the guns back in his holders before heading over to Dick, pulling out a knife.

As Dick was cut free, the imposing figure of Batman landed on the roof, holding a rather rattled looking Constantine. Damian followed shortly behind.

“Status.” Bruce demanded as Constantine appeared to be trying not to hurl off to the side.

“He heard our coms,” Dick said, standing up. “I’m not sure how but it seemed to have spooked him and he ran. Red Robin went after him.”

Bruce frowned slightly. Constantine seemed to have gotten ahold of himself as he walked over. “Did you get anything off of him?”

Dick gestured to the webs on him and the roof. “Just these.”

“Hmmm.” The magician walked over to investigate. Dick felt a bit uncomfortable with him that close, honestly, but such was the job sometimes.

As Constantine was poking at the webbing, Tim showed back up. He looked at them, shaking his head. “I lost him. He’s fast, even with only one of his web grapples working.”

“I am attempting to track him on cameras but there aren’t many this high up.”

“Keep looking, O.” Bruce looked back at Constantine. “Will that work?”

“It might. I’ll have to prepare a spell to see.” He tried to pull away, only to frown, looking at his hand. “First, will someone get me unstuck from this sh*t?”

Chapter 26: Magical MapQuest

Chapter Text

Peter pushed open the window, practically throwing himself in. He barely remembered to reach up and slam it shut before dropping to the floor, his breathing heavy. With one hand, he reached up, ripping his mask off as he gulped air.

Suspect. They thought he was a suspect. Why? For what? Peter didn’t know. He just wanted to get home, to fix the problem in New York. Find out what the f*cking ball he had was. He didn’t ask for this. Why did Peter always seem to attract enemies? What was it about Spider-man that made people hate him? He just wanted to help. He only wanted to help…

He rolled over, curling into a ball as a sob wracked itself free. It wasn’t fair. He knew life wasn’t fair, that’s why people needed heroes. But Peter was a hero. And people hated him.

He didn’t understand what he did to deserve this. First, it was people like J. Jonah Jamison (not counting criminals), then it was almost everyone. But Gotham didn’t have Beck. They didn’t know the lies he spread about Peter. The vigilantes just hated him.

Another sob wracked his body. One hand ran over his web shooters. He froze, quickly releasing the right web fluid canister. Holding it up, he could see that there were only dregs left. Barely enough for a couple webs. And Peter had no way to get more. Not now. Not without money.

He was so screwed.

He curled into a ball under the window, crying to himself. He felt so alone. He wanted to go home. He wanted someone to be there to comfort him and tell him everything was ok.

The dust of the abandoned theater drifted slowly around him.

“Why is this sh*t so bloody sticky?” John asked.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Spider-man,” Red Hood snapped as he worked on carefully cutting John’s hand off of Nightwing’s chest.

“I will when I bloody see him!”

Getting himself stuck to the chest of a Bat had decidedly not been on John’s list of things to do today. Really, he’d rather be asleep or at a pub (not that American pubs were as good as British ones in his opinion). Better yet, he’d rather be anywhere but in this f*cking city. The air was rank, so many curses overlapped each other that John didn’t want to even try untangling them.

There was a sudden release of tension on his palm and John jerked back as he was no longer stuck to Nightwing. He looked down at his hand, roughly cut web-like stuff sticking to his skin.

“I need some of this that’s not stuck to a person.”

Red Hood scoffed, holding his knife with strands still stuck to it. “Good f*cking luck.”

John went to reach for his cigarettes and lighter then thought better of it as the webbing pulled at his skin as his fingers flexed. He looked at the webbing stuck on the knife. It was streaked but nearly covered it. Might work. Would have to deal with possible interference from Hood owning the damn thing.

“Give me the knife.”

“What? No!” Hood clutched the knife tighter.

“Hood.”

“B, it’s my f*cking knife!”

“I’m not going to do sh*t to the knife. I’m going to try and use the webbing stuck to it to track the c*nt we’re all after. Got it?”

Hood looked at him, at least John assumed he did since the expressionless helmet was turned towards him. The vigilante crime lord stepped towards him, carefully holding the knife out. John went to take it, but Hood pulled it back. John glared in response.

“You so much as scratch the blade-”

“I’m not going to do anything to it. Jesus. You’re all a bunch of paranoid bastards. Give me that.” He reached out, grabbing the knife hilt. Hood let go before taking a small step back.

John let out a sigh, looking over the knife. He really f*cking hoped this worked.

“Let’s see if we can find this bugger.”

John elected to ignore the snort that came from Red Robin as he knelt to lay the knife on the roof. He reached with the hand that wasn’t sticky and all Hell to pull out what he needed, which was a right pain as he had to reach around himself into his opposite pocket. Luckily, he didn’t need much, but he kept his chalk in his right-hand pocket which was much harder to get to when his right hand was currently sticky.

Oh, this was going to be sh*t. How the f*ck was John going to draw a perfect circle with his left hand? It wasn’t like he had any other options. No one else here was a bloody magician. John sighed heavily before getting to work.

It was a f*cking disaster almost immediately. He didn’t do spell circles lefty. Crist, nothing about that circle was correct. He smudged it out, trying again. That one was f*cking worse! How was that one worse. He started smudging it out.

A scoff caused him to look up. It came from Robin, evidently. Based on direction and everyone but Batman looking at the kid.

“What are you scoffing at, half pint?”

Robin now had a sword in his hands. Great. Just bloody brilliant. “Do not insult me.”

Nightwing moved towards Robin, holding out a hand. “Calm down.”

Robin’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. He did not put the sword away.

“You think you can draw a better spell circle?”

“Indeed. Though, with the rather horrendous attempt, if you can call it that, Red Robin would be more adept than you.”

“Hey,” Red Robin said, offended.

John stood up, temper flaring. “Listen here, pipsqueak. I’m the only bloody magic user in this entire blasted city. And my option currently is to draw this damn circle lefty because I can’t exactly touch things with my right. So, unless you want sh*t magic, let me f*cking focus.”

Robin did not flinch. “You are clearly inadequate. Relinquish the chalk.”

He shifted his grip on the sword to one hand, holding out the other for the chalk.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I am the far superior artist.”

“Robin is right. He can draw the circle if you tell him what he needs to draw,” Nightwing said.

“This isn’t art class. This is magic. It needs to be precise.”

“Which means you will have to give adequate instruction.”

“If we argue for too long, the webbing will dissolve,” Red Robin pointed out.

John sighed in frustration before dropping the chalk in Robin’s outstretched hand. The kid put the sword away, finally. “Your details had best be accurate and of use.”

“You better be able to draw. Now. You’re going to start with a circle exactly 1 meter in diameter.”

Good news, kid could actually draw. Bad news, he was an absolute pain in the ass about it.

“No. Jesus, I said pointing outwards, not inwards.”

“You did not designate which side should be facing outwards.”

“It feels like you’re being an ass about this on purpose.”

“Now you know how the rest of us feel,” Red Robin muttered from where he was sitting on the edge of the roof.

John let out a heavy sigh of frustration. “Just turn the damn thing around and draw the other three. Then we’re done. Got it?”

Robin muttered something John didn’t quite catch but figured it was an insult of some sort. Jesus, why did Bats decide to work with children?

It took a few moments for the last symbols to be finished up, but then it was showtime. John shooed Robin away, giving the work one last look over. He corrected a couple small places before taking a deep breath. This better f*cking work.

He knelt down next to the circle, carefully not touching anything with his right hand as he got into position. John sat cross-legged outside the circle, pulling an old compass out of his pocket and laying it on the ground in front of him, just barely outside the circle.

“Alright, listen here. I need you lot to be silent. Got it? This is finicky magic so stand still and don’t say a f*cking word. I need to concentrate.”

Nightwing sighed and got comfortable. “Alright.”

“Fine. But I’m going to go down and have a smoke.”

“Hood-”

“Can it, old man. I’m not going to just sit around while Houdini does his thing. I’ll keep my com on. Let me know when you’re done.” With that, Red Hood climbed over the railing and down the fire escape. John waited until the sound of his boots clanging on metal faded away before starting.

Glowing signs and sigils started lighting up the air around him as John spoke, willing the magic to work with him and divine Spider-man’s location. His hands moved subtly, working on narrowing it down. He already knew Spider-man was in Gotham, that was good. That helped. He just needed to find out where. The needle of the compass spun wildly, ignoring the laws of physics and obeying the rules of magic.

He could feel a signature the magic was hooking onto. It was fairly strong. Good. That was good. The compass needle was honing in on a general direction. He narrowed it down, closing his eyes to focus. Where was Spider-man?

His eyes snapped open suddenly, the magic around him dimming. He looked down at the compass, the needle pointing straight and true in front of him and slightly to the left. John frowned slightly, picking the compass up and walking around the circle towards the edge of the roof. The Bats on the roof moved as one to follow him. He looked over the edge of the roof to see Red Hood below him, leaning against a wall. The faint glow of his cigarette was just barely visible.

John took a few steps left then moved about three feet to the right. The compass needle rotated, steadfastly pointing at one individual.

“f*ck!”

“What happened? Did it not work?” Nightwing asked, the space above his mask between where his eyebrows would be crinkled.

“No, the bloody thing worked. It just pointed to the wrong person.” John pulled out his own cigarette and lit it, taking a drag to calm his nerves.

“Who did it point at?” Red Robin asked, tilting his head.

“Bloody Red Hood. And there’s not a mistake. There was only one signature in that circle and it pointed at him.”

“Why did it point at Red Hood and not Spider-man?”

“I don’t f*cking know! Maybe because it’s Hood’s knife. Might have overwhelmed Spider-man’s signature.”

“This was a waste of time,” Robin growled.

“Oi! We didn’t know it wouldn’t bloody work. Save it short stack.”

Robin unsheathed his sword, eyes of his mask narrowing. Nightwing quickly moved in between them. “Hey, we tried it. That’s what’s important. Ok? So that didn’t work. Oh well. We try something else. Ok?”

Robin glared before sheathing the sword. “What do you propose?”

“For now. Just keep an eye out. O, do you have anything?”

John assumed there was a reply on the earpieces, but he didn’t hear it. But Nightwing frowned so likely no good news.

“Whatever his webs are made of, he appears to be running low. We may be able to find him when he replenishes.”

“Oh yeah, just wait for someone to mail order in some industrial strength spider silk.” John scoffed.

“It’s likely not spider silk. From what I saw of his hands when we fought, there is some sort of mechanism on the inside of each wrist. The webbing is artificially made,” Red Robin said.

“Chemical analysis.”

“As soon as we get back to the cave.”

Batman nodded. There was a clang of boots on steel, heralding the arrival of Red Hood.

“Can I get my knife back now?”

“I want to bring it back to the cave to analyze the webbing on it.”

“You can’t just use the stuff on golden boy?”

“Too hard to get a sample.”

Hood groaned. “Fine. Guess I’m coming them. Some of a bitch. You better not damage that knife.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Tim sat in the back seat of the Batmobile next to Constantine. He turned the knife over in his hands, making sure not to touch the sticky webbing. Constantine was fiddling with something in his pocket, his right hand resting palm up on his thigh. Tim was honestly a bit surprised he hadn’t gotten stuck to anything.

How did Spider-man get his webbing? It didn’t appear organic. Tim had gotten a few glimpses of the mechanisms on his inner wrists. They weren’t large. Whatever it was, it was small. No wonder he was running low. How long did each charge last? Was charge the right word? Could Tim replicate these? It could have useful applications if he could reproduce the webbing.

Something dripped onto his leg. Tim frowned, moving the knife to the side to look down.

Sitting there in stark contrast with the black of his suit, was a thin, white strand. He frowned, reaching the hand not holding the knife down to poke at the strand. It stuck to his finger and he moved his hand up to look at it more closely.

The strand looked like the webbing, but it was damp. As he watched, it started dissolving into a liquid, dampening the tip of his glove slightly.

Something larger fell onto his other thigh. Tim looked over to see a larger white clump. As he watched, more sloughed off the edge of the knife, turning to mush upon his thigh.

“sh*t!”

Tim swore so loudly and vehemently that Constantine jumped, dropping whatever had been in his hand, and Bruce slammed on the brakes.

“What is it?” he demanded, turning around.

“It’s dissolving! Vial! Give me a vial! Quick!”

Bruce reached into his utility belt, pulling out a vial and uncapping it. Tim took it, holding the knife upside down, positioning the point over the opening. More fell off, only a small portion getting in the vial. Tim hoped that would be enough. He capped the vial and put it in his belt. He looked up at Bruce.

“Drive.”

They drove much faster, Constantine grabbing whatever he could as they took corners sharply. Tim launched himself out as soon as the car hit the cave and he could see the computer. There were only a few small chunks floating in the liquid in the vial. He scrambled to get a sample, putting what he could into the computer to analyze.

The other Bats gathered around him, waiting anxiously for the results. Jason took his knife back, inspecting and cleaning it before putting it away.

It seemed to take an eternity before the report came back. Tim poured over it hungrily, demanding answers.

His shoulders sagged as he read. “It dissolves nearly completely. Most of what’s left is water. There are some trace ions, but I can’t determine what they may have been. It’s broken down almost completely.”

He let out a half shout, half growl of frustration, grabbing his hair with his hands.

A hand landed gently on his shoulder. Tim looked up to see Dick standing over him. “We’ll find him.”

Tim sighed, turning the chair slightly so he was facing the computer screen again. “Yeah…”