Batchat
Barbara (10:12pm): The Joker has been arrested by the GCPD.
Duke (10:13pm): literally how
Tim (10:13pm): like on purpose?
Steph (10:13pm): what?
Dick (10:13pm): Bruce, Damian, and I have been chasing Bane up and down Old Gotham for the past three hours. Where was the Joker?
Barbara (10:13pm): Crime Alley. He was arrested about ten minutes ago. He and his gang hijacked a bus and took it to a warehouse. Joker was apparently planning a massacre to announce his return to the streets.
Jason (10:14pm): How many of them were killed?
Barbara (10:15pm): None. Spider-Man intervened. Hostages, cops, and criminals are completely unharmed. Spider-Man snuck in, disarmed and webbed up all twelve gang members, then suspended Joker from the ceiling wrapped in webs. GCPD came in and cleaned up after him.
Jason (10:16pm): That fucking idiot went in alone?
Barbara (10:17pm): Yes, he handled all of it by himself.
Dick (10:17pm): We're heading to GCPD now.
Peter starts to get the idea he's done something very impressive and very stupid when he climbs onto the bus the next day. Lou stares at him, half in awe, half in blatant concern. He hands Peter two sandwiches today.
"What's the occasion?" Peter asks, unwrapping the sandwich. It's the first warm thing he's felt since school ended on Friday. Autumn is starting to drift into early winter, and the cold has begun to seep into every facet of his life.
Lou drums his fingers against the steering wheel for a moment, staring ahead. Finally, he cuts his eyes towards Peter through the mirror and says, "The Spider-Man did the impossible last night. He saved my friend and the people on his bus from the Joker."
"Oh," Peter says around a mouthful of food. "He does that a lot, though."
"Not against the Joker," Lous insists. "Spider-Man did the impossible last night."
"He's right, you know," the young businessman sitting in the seat behind him adds. "That hasn't happened ever. Not unless Batman's set some kind of trap for him or something. At the very least, someone gets a face full of Joker toxin or maimed or something.
"What the hell is Joker toxin?" Bucky asks.
Which is a very good question, actually. He's about to ask when Lou shuts the bus doors and presses on the gas pedal. The bus lurches forward with a hiss, and starts to roll down the road. The rain picks up, and Peter eats his breakfast in silence, wondering what exactly is so impressive about catching a weirdo in clown makeup by himself. The guy was creepy, sure, but no more creepy than any other clown that's existed since the 1960s.
Except for his eyes, of course. Peter tries not to think about the flat, evil stare the clown had given him while suspended from his webs. Just the memory of it is enough to make his skin crawl.
"You know what, let's ask him, then," Tim says, dropping down into his desk beside Peter. Duke sits down on Peter's other side, rolling his eyes. "Peter's smart. He'll be our tiebreaker."
"Tiebreaker for what?" Peter asks, looking up from his homework. He's somehow managed to keep ahead of the tide of homework, and his grades have even gone up. That's somewhat of a recent development; it feels like the teachers aren't grading him as hard now that he has friends.
Duke scoots his desk closer to Peter and leans in, his expression deadly serious. "Pineapple on pizza, yes or no?"
"There's only one right answer," Tim adds.
Peter stares at them both, amused. "Yes, obviously."
Duke makes a disgusted face and sighs dramatically. Tim lets out a quiet ha, and smirks at his brother. "Right answer, Peter."
Peter bumps his fist against Tim's, shrugging at Duke. "Sorry, man."
"I should've guessed you two would turn against me someday," Duke says dryly. He grins. "But fine. I guess we're having pineapple pizza after school today."
"We are?" Peter asks, frowning. He won't have time to patrol if he gets dinner with Tim and Duke. He loses track of time around them-
"You promised," Sam says.
Duke's eyes cut to Peter's right shoulder for a brief second. "Yeah, man. Remember?"
Peter tilts his head, then rubs the back of his neck. Crime Alley can do without him for one night, can't it? "Yeah, I did promise. Sure, let's do it. Pizza sounds great."
Duke grins at him. "Good. Because, man, I could use some time with friends after this weekend."
"I thought you visited your parents this weekend?" Peter says.
Duke smiles, and it's just a touch sad. "Yeah. I did."
Peter frowns, confused, and starts to ask what's wrong when he notices Tim's warning glare from the corner of his eye. Tim shakes his head very slightly, and Peter catches his meaning. This pizza trip is more than just an excuse for his friends to pay for his meal. Clearly Duke needs some time away from whatever family drama is happening behind closed doors.
"Oh. Family's rough," Peter says instead, shrugging. "Pizza's better."
Duke smiles. "Exactly what I was thinking."
Class passes by in a blur. Peter's much less stressed now that he knows he's not rushing home to patrol Crime Alley after school. He actually manages to relax for a little bit, and he's surprised by it. Maybe he's been too tense lately, too focused.
"You've been pushing yourself too hard," Fury says.
Maybe he has. He's making up for it tonight, at least. Tim and Duke take him to a little pizza shop tucked away in the old market street of Gotham Village. The place wouldn't be very remarkable on a New York street, but it's clearly a popular place judging by the crowd. Duke and Peter handle claiming a booth for themselves, and Tim slips off to grab the food.
Peter sticks a straw into his drink and glances at Duke. "Hey, are you all right?"
"Hm?" Duke says, looking up from his phone. "What do you mean?"
"It's just, you seem pretty withdrawn today," Peter says, fumbling with his words a bit. "Did everything go okay with your parents? I mean, I get that it's awkward-trust me, I am super familiar with awkward family stuff-but if you ever need to talk or something, I'm here. If nothing else, I could listen. I'm pretty good at that."
Duke looks at him for a long moment, and then smiles. When he smiles, it's warm and gentle. "I'm good, Peter. Things are just a little rough with my parents. They're, uh, sick. The Joker sprayed this toxin on them and it just-" He pauses, takes in a breath and sighs. "It's not a death sentence. It's worse. I'm hoping Wayne Tech finds a cure for them some day. It's just hard seeing them sometimes."
Peter frowns, idly swirling his drink with his straw. "Maybe they will. It sounds like they've had breakthroughs in a lot of different areas. Kinda like-" He pauses. He almost said 'kind of like Stark Industries' but that would mean less than nothing to Duke. "Well, they might pull it off."
"Yeah, I'm holding out hope for it," Duke says. He pauses, then makes a face when Tim nudges his way through the crowd to their table and sets a pizza and a giant basket of mozzarella sticks on the table in front of them. "Tim. What the absolute hell is that."
"Artichoke, jalapeno, and pineapple pizza," Tim replies smugly. He drops into the booth beside Peter and grabs a slice. "It's good."
"That isn't a thing. What the hell," Peter says, horrified. "Pineapple is fine, but artichoke and jalapenos? You don't do that to pizza."
"See? Peter's on my side. And also God's. This is a war crime, Tim," Duke adds. This doesn't keep him from outright stealing two slices, of course.
Tim maintains direct eye contact with Peter and slowly bites his abomination of a pizza.
"You're a monster," Peter says, taking his own slice. It's food, it's warm, and it's something he hasn't had to cook. To his surprise, it's actually not that bad. He'd rather die than admit that to Tim and let him win, of course. A man's got to have standards.
Tim smirks at him. "You like it."
"Lies and propaganda," Peter says, shoving the rest of the pizza slice in his mouth before grabbing his fork. He idly twirls it in his hand, a flashy bit of showmanship, and then stabs it into the towering pile of mozzarella sticks sitting in the center of the table and forks over three of them onto his plate.
Duke snorts. "That was unnecessary."
He then mimics Peter's move with his own fork and grabs the other half of the remaining mozzarella sticks. Tim squints at them.
"Hey, where's my share?" he asks.
"You've got your crime pizza," Duke shoots back. He does give Tim two of his mozzarella sticks, however.
"Crime pizza is nothing without food I'm going to regret eating tomorrow," Tim says primly, stealing one more mozzarella stick off of Duke's plate. Duke narrows his eyes at him.
Peter adds a couple of his own to Tim's plate, amused. "Right, usually you prefer kale chips."
"Which are amazing because Alfred made them for me," Tim says. "And only me. Even though Damian keeps stealing them."
"He does it to spite you," Duke informs him. "Damian likes me."
"That doesn't mean anything. Anyone with sense likes you," Peter says around a mouthful of food.
"Peter's got you there, Duke," Tim says.
Duke grins, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't make it weird, guys."
After pizza, Duke and Tim take him on a tour through Gotham Village, pointing out other restaurants, shops, and hang outs along the way. Tim still moves stiffly, and Duke needs help with his transit card when they hop on the subway to head to a nearby park. Despite the cold wind, the park is beautiful and full of more people than he expected. Couples wander down stone paths together, groups of students from Gotham University meander towards an ice skating rink in the distance with hockey sticks and ice skates slung over their shoulders, a few older folks haunt the chess and checker boards set out beside an outdoor cafe. The difference between Crime Alley and Gotham Village is almost unbelievable.
Tim leads them straight towards the chess boards. He looks them over, looks at the little kiosk that sells and rents out game pieces, and grins at Peter.
"You up for a game?" he asks.
"Chess isn't really my thing, but sure," Peter says, pulling up a chair to the board.
"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you," Tim says.
"I can't wait to see this," Duke says, wandering over with a hot chocolate from the cafe. "Peter, if you break Tim's winning streak, I'll give you Tim's car."
"You can't give away my stuff," Tim says.
"Watch me," Duke replies.
Peter laughs, setting out the pieces with Tim. He loses, of course; even with Duke stepping in to help him (much to Tim's annoyance), he's soundly defeated. It doesn't take long at all. Tim is very good at chess, and eagerly starts to teach Peter moves and strategies during their second game. He gushes about the game, and Peter has as much fun listening to him as he does learning it. Duke chips in every now and then with his own observations, but it quickly becomes apparent that he's just as impulsive and reactive as Peter when it comes to games. Tim's the long haul player.
When the sun fully sets, they leave the park and head for the subway.
"We should do this again sometime," Tim says.
"Soon," Duke adds. He's much more at ease now. The tension that followed him around school is all but gone, and the easygoing grin and confident step are back in full force. Peter's glad for it.
"Definitely," Peter replies, grinning at his friends. "Thanks, guys. It was fun. I'll catch you at school tomorrow."
Peter resumes his patrols the next day. It's more of the same; hunt down a False Facer hideout, clear it, swing by the playground to make sure the kids are okay, rescue Mr. Fluffles from a tree again, and finally, chase down the cat burglar that keeps swinging through his territory. Most of those chases end with Peter skittering around a cold, slick rooftop in the dark, completely at a loss. But one rainy night, he gets lucky, and catches her in the act.
"You know, you could at least tell me why you keep robbing every laboratory in the city," Peter says testily behind the burglar.
"Hiya, Spidey," the lady says, amused. She doesn't even look up from cracking the safe she's working on, and that is far more annoying than it has any right to be. She does glance over her shoulder at him and wink at him through her mask's goggles. Beneath the mask is deeply tanned skin, and bright green eyes shining with challenge and mirth. "I wondered when you'd show up."
"You were a little more obvious than usual this time," Peter says, idly swinging. She's not much older than him, if at all. Sixteen at the most, like him. "Which means you wanted me to find you."
"I did," she confirms. There's a slight accent to her words, and it takes Peter a moment to realize she's hiding a Queens accent. She pops open the safe and "Mostly out of curiosity."
"Isn't there a saying about curious cats?" Peter says, flipping down from his perch to approach her.
"Curiosity killed the cat," she says, then whirls and sweeps her leg high, aiming her heel for the side of his head. He dodges, but the movement makes him lose his balance and he trips, for the first time since he got the bite, and stumbles to the side, planting one foot firmly inside a wire trash bin. "But satisfaction brought it back."
She winks at him and sprints for the open window Peter had used to climb inside, leaping out into the night. Peter sighs and shakes his foot loose from the trash bin. He can't believe he tripped.
What rotten luck.
Peter meets his first truly weird bad guy the next night. His first inkling that something is wrong is a faint buzzing of his spider senses. The second is when an armored delivery truck with Gotham Biochemical printed across its side is sent flying past his head. He swings after the truck, adjusts his web shooters, and swings around the flying truck, quickly webbing it up to slow its descent. The webs aren't strong enough to stop it completely-and given the laws of physics, he'd rather not make it stop suddenly-but they slow the truck's fall until it lands relatively gently on the street. Satisfied the driver in the truck is safe, Peter swings for the monster standing in the street, terrorizing a guard standing near a heavy steel crate.
Well, not a monster. Clearly a man. Just a big one that looks like he's covered in a thick layer of earth and clay. Peter grabs a trash can lid and flings it at the guy's head. It bounces off with an echoing clang. It also forces the monster to turn and face him. And boy, it is not a pleasant sight: the guy's skin-if it is skin-hangs and rolls down his body almost like water. The monster's two pig-like eyes glower at Peter as he swings out of reach.
"Oh, a dirt based supervillain!" Peter calls out, landing on the street just out of the man's reach. "You've definitely got some kind of villain name. Let me guess, Ground Pounder?"
The man roars at him, swelling up to the size of the Hulk and ripping a streetlight out of the ground to swing at Peter. He ducks beneath it and lobs a ball of webbing straight into the man's face. He snarls again, his voice like grinding rocks, "Who the hell are you?"
"Spider-Man. Oh, hey, Sandman's a pretty good name-" Peter ducks beneath another wild swing of the streetlight. "Or! Dirtbag. That might fit you best, actually!"
"It's Clayface!" the monster roars, finally throwing the streetlight straight at his head.
Perfect. Peter flings a web at the streetlight and whips it over and around, smacking Clayface across the skull. The monster grunts in surprise, stumbles, and then falls face first onto the street. Peter's quick to web him up while he's on the ground, practically covering him in a cocoon of webbing.
"Sandman's cooler," he says.
"This ain't over," Clayface snarls.
"I mean, yeah, it is-" Peter starts, and then he stops. Because Clayface is melting.
Clayface smirks at him, melts like a popsicle, and then slinks into a nearby sewer grate, webs and all. Peter's utterly dumbfounded.
"What in the goddamn hell just happened," Fury says. It should be a question, but it comes out so flatly annoyed that it doesn't quite reach it.
"Why is this city like this," Sam mutters.
"You'll get him next time, sweetie," a nice old lady says from the sidewalk. She adds, helpfully, "Maybe bring a tupperware container when you see him again."
BATCHAT
Barbara (08:48pm): Spider-Man's made another move. He stopped Clayface from robbing an armored truck earlier tonight. Clayface escaped.
Jason (08:49pm): Hasn't Bruce talked to him about this shit yet?
Barbara (08:50pm): Not yet. He was called away to an emergency meeting at the Hall of Justice. Wonder Woman and Superman are still MIA.
Tim (08:51pm): great
Jason (08:51pm): Fine, I'll handle it then.
Dick (08:52pm): That's a good idea. He doesn't know what he's dealing with, and we could use the help while Bruce is gone. He's got the talent, he's just new.
Jason (08:53pm): Where was Spider-Man last seen?
Barbara (08:55pm): I'm sending you the coordinates now. Play nice, Jason.
Peter searches for Clayface for an hour before giving it up as a lost cause, annoyed at the man's escape from his webs. He heads for one of the quieter alleys in the district, one far from where most people live. He stuck his backpack there and he intends to grab it to pull on a hoodie and jeans over his suit. He drops down to the asphalt and sighs, rolling his neck and shoulders. It's been a long night. He reaches for the loose bricks hiding the hole where his backpack is stashed-
"You're an idiot," a voice says to him from the shadows.
Peter freezes for a moment, then turns to face the Red Hood. The man is standing in the shadows, just as Batman did a few days ago, glaring at Peter. He's holding a gun in his hand, and he has it aimed squarely at Peter's head.
"If I wanted to kill you, I could've done it twice over by now," he says before holstering the weapon and stalking out into the dim light of the alley. Every inch of his body language screams annoyed, as if he's holding back a lecture of monumental proportions.
Peter tilts his head. "So, why didn't you?"
"Because I didn't want to, obviously. We're on the same side," Red Hood retorts. "I wanted to see if you noticed me. You didn't. You got sloppy. That'll cost you your life one day if you keep it up. Especially now that you're going around getting into fights with Clayface and the Joker."
"I didn't exactly hunt them down and start it," Peter says, his own annoyance coming through. "Especially the Joker. He was going to kill a literal bus load of people! I handled it fine-"
"You got lucky. Luckier than you know," Red Hood says, stalking close. He taps Peter's chest. "You should've stayed low and out of sight like you were before, but you didn't. Now you've got a target on your back and, if you manage to stay lucky, the Joker won't try to take aim for it."
Peter scowls, roughly shoving Red Hood's hand away from his chest. His earlier annoyance rises like a tide. He crowds Red Hood right back, actually forces the man to take a step back. "I'm tougher than you think. He'll be in for a surprise if he tries anything."
"Peter. Take it easy," Bucky says quietly.
Peter pauses, takes in a breath to calm himself, and then steps back. Where had that come from?
"Not tough enough, and not trained enough," Red Hood retorts. "Which is why I came looking for you."
"What?" Peter asks. He's a bit more subdued now, half distracted by his sudden anger.
"Your training starts tomorrow. Nine o'clock, at the Wayne Memorial Plaza," Red Hood says. He doesn't seem bothered by Peter's anger in the least. He pins Peter with a stare. "Don't be late, or I'll come looking for you. Got it?"
"Yeah. Got it," Peter says.
"Good," Red Hood says. He stares at Peter for a moment longer, then turns and stalks back into the shadows.