"Hero."
Was there any meaning to that title? Did it hold any weight worth carrying? Worth the burden that came from internal and external expectations of what an example should be? These were questions Peter found himself pondering even more than he already did before. Before the countless hours of tinkering with prototype web shooters, and before the sleepless nights, being awoken by the slightest creak in the floorboard. These questions challenged him. Every morning when he woke up. And every night that he went to sleep in his bed. That cold, terrible, empty bed of his. Peter was lonely, or so he thought. Depression, grief, and stress had become so personal to him, so intimate with his soul, that they manifested as spirits, of a sort, that haunted him and gave him unwanted, but warranted company.
Total loneliness was something Peter could no longer claim. Not when those spirits had grown close to him in the past year. In fact, they knew his deepest secret - that he was Spider Man, and used that secret to their advantage. They were able to speak to Peter as Spider-Man, and to Spider-Man as Peter, blending the two persons as one. It was a dangerous occurrence. Because soon, Peter had let his inner demons manifest within the persona of Spider-Man as well. The two became one, more so than they ever were before. More than they needed to be. After all, at least the way Peter saw it, Spider-Man killed Gwen. So, Peter killed Spider-Man. And everything that original "hero" stood for.
It started slow.
First, with Peter cutting off his support from law enforcement. It was no secret that he was either loved or hated. Lacking love for himself, it was easy for Peter to focus on the hatred harbored toward his alter ego instead, and he used that to cut ties with the NYPD.
No more joint drug busts.
No more exchanging valuable intel.
And soon, Spider-Man was no different than the tens of other vigilantes that were sprouting up left from right. Crime had gotten to an all time high in the Big Apple, and Spider-Man opted to abandon his support from police, fans, and fellow vigilantes alike. That's when the more dramatic changes began to take place. Most notably was the color change that took his fans and haters by surprise. Red and blue was no longer the color Spider-Man would sport. Instead, Peter had changed it to a jet black suit, accented by white outlines that made it easy to blend into the shadows, as if it weren't enough that he was married to darkness already. Even the orange lenses in his mask were traded for a mauve, smoked-out film that struck fear into the criminals he used to relieve his hatred, towards himself and the world around. With the infamous dark suit came the infamous dark reputation.
"Watch out, thugs. Spider-Man isn't holding back any more."
"Spidey is finally fighting fire with fire."
And by that "fire", of course, people meant the brutality of the underworld. Peter had, too, dipped his toes into the methods of street level beatdowns that were more associated with the newer, clumsier vigilantes. Bloody faces. Guerrilla tactics. Loaded threats. It all escalated further and further until it reached its peak… on his twentieth birthday. The day May Parker took her last breath.*
Passing away in sleep is something that everyone wishes for. A seamless, painless, transition into the afterlife is much more welcome than a drawn out death ridden with pain. It was these thoughts that kept Peter from completely succumbing to agony after her funeral.
" At least it was in her sleep…"
But the cheap comfort bought by those words were only effective for so long - A band-aid posing as life support for a broken heart. The fact still remained that she was gone.
Aunt May was gone.
And Peter had already lost so much. So much, in fact, that the little regard he had for his own life brought his self worth down to zero. It was the very reason why when he finally let himself go, he didn't feel he lost much of anything at all.
For a couple of months, Spider-Man was absent, making way for the other vigilantes to substitute in his place to tackle the rapid crime infestation in New York. Peter was too focused on mourning. Too vulnerable to be the vague "hero" he needed to be. But that's when a secret organization took advantage of that vulnerability, and decided Peter was worth working with. The call to make contact with Peter was made by Phil Coulson, a top dog in the organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D. Recruiting Spider-Man was something Agent Coulson claimed was done in order to combat the overwhelming crime that became too much for even the NYPD to handle themselves. Despite that claim, Peter became much more than a simple recruit to Agent Coulson. The tragic teen became something like a project to him.
At first, it was alarming that the man knew Peter's identity as Spider-Man. But what set Peter off the most was the unorthodox approach Agent Coulson had towards Peter. Ever since his early days, Peter was used to various degrees of hostility from people. But Agent Coulson was different. He was calm. Level headed. And spoke to Peter like an actual person. Not a freak, not a delinquent, or even a child. It was Coulson's easy going attitude that won Peter over to join a special S.H.I.E.L.D. unit back then, consisting of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.
When the group first began a year ago, it was surreal for Peter to be working so closely with members of the world renowned Avengers. Granted, Clint and Natasha weren't as popular as Tony and Steve. But the butterflies came all the same, even reminding him somewhat of how excited it felt to be a hero at first. Once the honeymoon phase was over, however, Peter found it hard to get along with everyone. And that's when the rumors of Spider Man's true self had been confirmed - The anger, selfishness, and hatred. All of it. Missions became difficult, and despite the father/son relationship that Agent Coulson and Peter developed over the months, it became compromised with Peter's rediscovered hate for everything, including himself.
Present Day
S.H.I.E.L.D. Manhattan Department
It amused Peter how much influence just his very presence had on others. At first, it made him distraught. But just like the other dark things surrounding his persona, he learned to embrace it. Cherish it, even, so that it could be weaponized and ready to use on whoever he considered a threat at that moment. As Peter walked through the offices and cubicles in S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, everyone grew quiet. The fun idle chatter between agents were brought down to a frantic hush at the sight of Spider-Man.
"What's the matter? Mom and Pop never told you all it's rude to stare?"
Everyone ignored his announcement. If they could see under his mask, they'd be thrown off by the confident, aloof smirk that perched his mouth. Peter kept his mind focused on the task at hand, which was an urgent meeting he'd been called to earlier by Agent Coulson. Peter had no clue what it could be about, so he eagerly approached the Briefing Room to satisfy his curiosity. Sliding his hand across a control panel next to the door, the room opened to him, revealing Agent Coulson, Natasha, and Clint waiting for him.
Peter walked in. "Geez, you'd think I'm a celebrity with all the looks I get out there. Where's my red carpet, Philly?"
"You've been told how many times to address me as 'Agent Coulson'? And yet, here you are. Disobeying orders. What a surprise."
Peter flinched from the sharp words and pulled off his mask. His shoulder length, unkempt hair fell over his squinted eyes as he pointed to his chest. "Phil, come on. I mean, it's me here. I always call you that."
"And you've been told not to," Natasha spoke up. Sitting comfortably in a chair next to Clint, she crossed her arms and shrugged. "It's a simple command, really. Just goes in one ear and out the other, hm? Doesn't it?"
Peter let his mouth awkwardly hang open, taking time to thoroughly address the vibe of the room. None of them were having it with him today, based on the stern looks they were giving him. He just couldn't figure out why. Throwing his hands up in defeat, he drug himself over to an empty chair by the briefing table, and sat down. "'Kay. I see we all have our frowny faces on, 'cept me. So, what did I do this time?"
"How about attempted murder? Seems like a good place to start." Agent Coulson got straight to the point, slapping a manila folder down on the table.
Peter picked up the folder and opened it to be greeted by grotesque pictures of a man on life support. He recognized the man immediately. It was only yesterday that Peter had seen him in good health… that was until the wrath of Spider-Man took that good health away. It was during a private mission, absent of any involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D., and involved Peter following up a lead on the god of crime, at least in New York, Wilson Fisk. Fisk was better known for his infamous moniker "Kingpin", and Peter had been trying to tackle his operations for some time.
Peter shook his head and shrugged, letting the folder fall out of his last hands. "'Attempted murder'? If I wanted this dude dead, there wouldn't be a body to show for it. You all brought me here to look at selfies from an old fart in a hospital? For real?"
"I'm sorry. Forgive us," Sarcasm laced Natasha's quip. "Didn't know you were occupied with something more important."
"Duh, I was occupied! Ever heard of this thing called Saturday Morning Cartoons?"
Natasha briskly nodded her head, tucking her hand underneath her chin. "Who hasn't? Right? But, I was thinking maybe you were out breaking noses beyond repair again."
Once again, Peter's mouth hung open in hesitation. It was no surprise for his questionable interrogation methods to come up. He felt like he couldn't just tell them he let his anger get the best of him. It had been happening too frequently in the first place. So Peter did what he did best, and mentally ran away, using his humor. "Maybe you're right. I should've let him blow his nose first."
Clint laughed a bit, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "God, what is your deal, kid? You can't have a basic conversation without pretending you're doing stand up?"
"Look, if you want me to say I feel sorry for this geezer, I don't."
"Of course you don't," Natasha said. "You'd have to actually care about saving lives to do that."
Peter paused and bit his lip, thinking about her tough words. Of course, he wouldn't admit to the affliction he felt. But Peter didn't need to. Everything was written on his face. He sat up in his chair and pointed his hand at Natasha. "Trust me, if I didn't care about lives, I wouldn't be wasting my time saving them."
"Funny," Coulson said, blinking at Peter until he turned around and turned on the large screen against the wall. "Something tells me that man's five year old daughter wouldn't agree with the b-s you just spat out." On the screen was a picture of the girl. "Her name's Leslie. And when we went to go clean up the mess you left behind for this man's family, Leslie said that she's 'scared of Spider Man'."
Peter swallowed a lump in his throat and looked down. "I'm really sorry she said that." It was, seemingly, a confession that took his team by surprise. He looked back up toward their disbelief and continued. "Nah, for real. I am. She should been thanking me." The three of them winced at his arrogant words as he continued. "Sooner she finds out her pops is a corrupt bastard, the better."
"Damn, kid," Clint said, breaking the brief silence. "You really are something else."
Peter picked up the file and slammed it back on the table in front of them. "And this bastard is really everything I said he was… A dirty. Corrupt. Bastard. He had a direct lead to Kingpin's weapon smuggling operation. And I caught him making the deal. What was I supposed to do? Kick his ass to hell and back, then give him a pat on the back like you do?!"
Coulson held up his hand to hush Peter. "Listen. You did good by making sure the deal didn't go through. No doubt, you prevented those gangs from getting access to more weapons and collateral. I'm not saying that isn't appreciated. What I am saying, is that torture is not your call to make."
Peter thought back to last night, when he was beating the snot out of the politician. Peter would ask a question and anytime he wasn't satisfied with the answer, he would punch him straight in the nose, which was far past broken at that point. Once his face was drenched in blood and numb from the swelling, Peter moved to the rest of his body...
His strategy worked and Peter got information where more deals with whistleblowers would be taking place in the city area. All it cost his victim was a case of a trauma-induced coma, as well as legs and arms that he may or may not even be able to use anymore. Peter looked up from his black hair that fell across his face again.
His voice was coarse and filled with rage, pent up sadness and a host of other emotions he kept inside. "So you admit that I did my job. But here you are, taking me on one huge guilt trip over it."
"Be quiet," Coulson spat. "Torture and excessive violence is not your job. Neither of those things are what SHIELD stands by."
Peter winced and shook his head. "Oh come on, Phil, that's bull! So, all of a sudden you guys are a bunch of hippies? Pfft! Is SHIELD sponsored by Woodstock now?" Peter pointed his hand out at Clint and Natasha. "What about all the lives Romeo and Juliet took over here?"
"Excuse me?" Natasha spat, standing up.
Peter smirked and welcomed her advance. "That's right. I'm going there."
Coulson slammed his fist on the table and raised his voice. "Peter, I want you quiet! Now whether you like it or not, SHIELD has changed. We don't shoot first and ask questions later. We don't put violence above peace. With the recent crime wave, alien invasions across the globe, and whatnot, people need a symbol of peace more than ever. And that's what SHIELD is aiming to be. We're not perfect, but we can damn sure do our best to get there. And that requires all of our members being on board."
Peter watched Natasha sit back down and he shot her an irritated look, challenging her to say something else.
"See? That's precisely what I'm talking about." Peter turned back towards Coulson, non verbally asking him to clarify. "The look you just gave Natasha. Hell, this entire time, in fact. You were pushing her on purpose. Why do you always push the limit? Is this all just a joke to you? It must be. Because you're slipping. You have been for the past couple of months. You've taken everything we've been working toward and thrown it out the window. And for what? Because it's cool to be the bad boy?"
"It beats being the outcast."
"Might wanna get used to being the outcast," Natasha said. "We're benching you."
There it was.
The final nail in the coffin.
Peter knew that it was coming, and now that he finally heard the words, he couldn't help but be amused, once again letting his humor mask his true disappointment. "Wow. Just like that, huh? I don't get it. Is it so bad that I don't want Little Tommy three houses down to end up like me? Because that's why I do what I do." Peter paused, gauging their disappointed looks. "Don't answer. You don't want me here? Cool. It's all good. 'Cause there's always someone out there somewhere that's gonna need me. And maybe it's time I broaden my horizons without you people following me around. SHIELD can kiss my ass. I'm gone."
Putting his mask back on, Peter shoved his way past the door and out into the hallway. Natasha stared at Coulson as he bit his lip. She knew what he was thinking, brought about by the deep connection he and Peter had. He wished for it now more than ever, even past the immense disappointment at Peter's attitude.
"Coulson. Don't."
He ignored her, rushing out the door in pursuit.
He caught Peter at the end of the hallway, and shouted his name. "Peter!"
Peter slowly turned around and threw up his arms. "This the part where we both say something cliche? Huh? 'Don't go, Peter! I-It was just a misunderstanding!'"
"It is a misunderstanding. I want you suspended. Not expelled."
"You should've thought of that before you threw me under the bus." Peter began to turn back around before Coulson grabbed his shoulder. Peter looked at his shoulder, then up at Coulson. "What?"
"I've seen this look in your eyes before. You need to disappear somewhere and blow off steam. I'm not saying that's what you should do. But I am saying that you should be careful." Coulson paused to take a deep breath, letting his hand fall off Peter's shoulder. "It got a little more heated in there then I wanted. I think all of us, especially you and I, said some things we didn't mean. But I want you to know this. Our relationship hasn't changed. I'm still your mentor. I'm still here for you if you need me."
Peter began slowly backing away, shaking his head. "I hear you. And maybe you're right. But at the moment, I'm all good. I don't need you."
For what must've been the thousandth time, Peter fluffed his backpack up to accommodate his discomfort. But there was only so much you could do with a sack full of skateboard parts, half-broken tech and a modified Speedo that just so happened to be a superhero costume. On top of that, there was the fact he was on a terribly antiquated boat that seemed eager to topple over from the slightest wave in the ocean. As strange as it was, hitching a ride on a boat was something that Peter had actually always wanted to do.
Timing was convenient, since he'd rather be anywhere than New York at the moment, nor did he care wherever he ended up. As long as there was crime, he'd have something to do. The only luxury he brought along was an old keepsake, Uncle Ben's keychain. It was an old circular fob that that Peter held onto as a token of good luck. On its face, the name "Benjamin" was spelled with worn out letters. Peter put his head against his makeshift pillow, took a deep inhale of the salty midnight air, and ran his thumb over and over against the fob. It gave him company. Besides his inner demons, it felt good to have someone close to him.
Total loneliness wasn't too much of a problem, however. The group of fellow boat-hitchers a few feet away to him made that apparent. They joked about, horsed around, and cursed at the staff in the front of the boat who had long given up on kicking them out. The fellow homeless began gathering around for a card game, and the eldest waved his hand at Peter.
"Hey! Youngin'! Care to join a couple of old men in blackjack?"
Peter tilted his head toward them and grinned. "What the hell, why not?" He said, rising to his feet to walk over.
Peter figured he might as well get the full experience. If blackjack was a part of that, then he was fully invested. He sat down in a group of five, and ran his hands together to keep himself warm. They talked loud amongst themselves but paused to greet Peter. He introduced himself and smiled. Eventually though, a few minutes into the game, Peter paused and asked the inevitable question.
"So, uh. Anyone know where this boat's going?"
One of them answered, "Some place down in Jersey called 'Gotham City'. You ever heard of it?"
A/N (Info Dump):
I've been working on this fic for a little over a year now, and in a lot of ways, it kinda saved my life. So it's very personal to me, but I always had the intention of posting it, and I'm finally in the position to do so. I know this fic must sound quite ridiculous, but if it's something you might be interested in, I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
This AU is kinda a hodge-podge of different universes, and uses versions of characters I like the most. For example, it's Robert Pattinson Batman in the same universe as Jared Leto Joker. Call me crazy, but I've always loved Leto's version, and Pattinson is my favorite Batman so far, so those are the versions I wrote in this story. That being said, I also won't be sticking to canon for each universe, and will just basically world building my own canon by nitpicking certain events from each universe.
This chapter was basically just a small pilot/teaser, but the next will be posted this Friday, and I plan on posting a chapter each Friday for as long as I can without adulting getting in the way. The fic at the moment is a little over 100,000 words, so it kinda gives you an idea of what to look forward to if you're interested. If you are interested in this story and end up enjoying it, feel free to leave a comment that you did, or perhaps ways I can approve on it. I'm open to constructive criticism and love it just as much as I love praise.
Also, I never want to put myself on a pedestal, but I believe this is the first dedicated story for HarleyXPeter that isn't a oneshot. Like, ever. Well, at least from what I've been able to find on FFN/AO3. But, like, WHY? One of the reasons I started this story was because I was kinda shocked that nobody else shipped these two. I mean, they're both hilarious and flagship icons of their respective companies. Granted, Harley is evil and Peter is good, buuut... that's never stopped other crackships that have way more content in their fandom. Anyway. Rant over. I hope you have a great day!
