lepoffaith

by Lazydaily

marvel peter gotham long ass chapters

3. Chapter 3

When Ned first met Peter, he really didn't know what he was getting into. That being said, Ned would make the same choice if he had to go back in time.

Sometimes he reads manga or web comics where the whole premise is that the main character wakes up back at the start of their life. And their lives were like, shitty, so obviously they always change what they can and make different decisions (sometimes worse decisions). But Ned doesn't roll like that.

His life has been pretty okay so far (he's trying not to jinx it) and he thinks that if that happened to him, he wouldn't change anything if he could help it. Though he does think about the moral dilemma of knowing that something bad is going to happen and having to let it happen because he knows what comes from it and he doesn't want to play god, or intervening because he knows it'll cause pain and he wouldn't be able to bear the thought.

(But also, he'd be like, a little kid?

Like, how are these characters even able to do any of what they do? They're like, 7 years old. Doesn't matter if they have the mind of an adult or whatever, they are not picking up those swords. Whatever, that's not the point and he's rambling.)

Weird and unnecessary side tangents aside, what Ned is trying to say is that he's so glad Peter is his best friend. If there's a universe out there where that isn't true, then he imagines that universe is a much darker, much less happy place.

Ned stares at the dark tile beneath his feet, settled onto the couch in Stark Tower that he's claimed every day since Peter went missing. FRIDAY will help him with his homework if he asks, but today, Ned feels like staring at the paper and just pretending that he tried.

He knows he's probably annoying.

No, scratch that. He knows he's definitely annoying.

If it was him who had to deal with his son's best friend showing up every day after school to sit on his couch and ask a billion questions to everyone that passes by, he thinks he'd be pretty annoyed. If the Avengers (the fucking Avengers) are secretly wishing he would uninvite himself from their presence, they're doing a pretty good job of hiding that fact.

Ned just can't help it. Ever since he first got that alert from Peter's phone that something was wrong, he couldn't get that nauseous and ugly anxiety to uncoil itself from around him. It felt suffocating, not knowing if Peter is okay or not. He doesn't know what else to do with himself, if not sit on this couch and be there when something happens.

Like, what would he do? Go home?

They want him to sit on his bed instead, or at his desk, and try to do homework like a good kid whose best friend isn't missing? But instead, he'd just keep looking at his phone, awaiting a call or a text from either Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, or Peter himself? They want him to twiddle his stupid little thumbs and go to school like the world isn't ending?

He can do his homework here, at the coffee table in the lounge, looking at the pictures of Peter on the wall. They had been added to the collection of photos the Avengers hung up since they first became a solid team. Right next to a picture of Peter, Mr. Stark, and Ms. Potts at Peter's first day moving in, is a picture of Peter and Ned. Peter had texted him as soon as he put up, with an insane amount of smiley face emojis.

Ned leaves school or academic decathlon and he uses the badge Mrs. Potts gave him to go up the elevator, say hello to FRIDAY, and sit down right here. This is his post, his harbor, and he can't help but akin himself to a lighthouse keeper. And he wouldn't have it any other way, not until Peter is back.

When Ned would come here with Peter, they'd usually head right up to the penthouse where Tony and Pepper live. It should have been nerve wracking the first time (it was, don't let Ned's inner monologue fool you), but Peter made it easy to get comfortable. Instead of focusing on the fact that he was at Tony fucking Stark's house, and he passed Sam Wilson on their way up, all of Ned's attention was on Peter.

Peter's room is right next to the kitchen and has been filling itself with the Lego sets they make together, and the walls are slowly getting covered in band posters and Star Wars art. There's something about coming over every week and seeing the evidence that Peter has taken root somewhere, and he feels comfortable doing so, that Ned enjoys.

But Ned doesn't have a place there right now, since he's just a guest and Peter isn't here. That'd be weird to go sit in Peter's room without him there, even if it is the only place he really knows in the Tower. So he instead made his base right at the heart of where the Avengers sleep and eat, because they're bound to acknowledge his presence that way.

Not that they wouldn't either way. Steve (because he insisted not to call him Mr. Rogers), sends him texts when there's an update and Ned is at school or home. And while Mr. Stark is… going through it, he still gives Ned the time of day to make him eat and throw out a comment about Ned always being here.

He's seen first hand over the past 6 months that Peter is way stronger than he looks, and he's more resilient than anyone Ned knows. He might have been a fan of Spider-Man's since way back when the vigilante was just rumors online, but Ned can say confidently that he's Peter's number one fan now.

Not Spider-Man, but Peter.

He had found out about Spider-Man after 3 months of friendship, at Peter's 14th birthday party. Which sounds really fast, considering Peter had kept his identity so close to his heart and Ned doesn't think he's special enough for that. But they had met at a summer program for school, and clicked in a way that Ned had never really had before.

Like, a best friend? (He ignores the small feeling in his chest that disagrees with that word, that calls Peter something more.)

Ned has a lot of friends, but none that he could say he'd call up to complain about his Lola yelling at him for his grades, or when he wants to talk about missing his parents. Or when he has one of those days where he feels othered from people, even if they like him, and he knows that he could say it without explaining it and Peter would just get it in the way no one else does.

Peter's his first best friend, and Ned now knows that it's the same for Peter. At the time of the birthday party that neither of them will forget, Peter had told Ned more than he has ever told anyone, save for his therapist. And Ned, too, felt (and still feels) like he could tell Peter anything and it'd be locked away in this friendship vault forever.

Which is maybe why Peter was less troubled about Ned finding out why Tony Stark seemingly randomly decided to foster a kid one day than he was troubled about Ned learning that Peter thinks math is blue and science is red.

Though Ned will point out the best way to tell him may not have been walking on a wall and saying "So… I'm Spider-Man." like he was just admitting that he had a tiny side hobby like collecting books or something.

So yeah. Ned knows about Spider-Man, he knows Peter's strong. He knows that Peter has more backup than any other 14 year old in the universe. He knows that everything is going to be fine.

But still. His best friend was kidnapped in broad daylight and they have no idea where he is.

And it's been 12 days.

And they only barely managed to hide this from the press, because somehow no one noticed the fight that happened in the sky.

And Peter can only be absent from school for so many days with a 'cold' before someone gets wind of this and comes to the Tower, asking why Mr. Stark lost Peter as if it was his fault. And then everything could come tumbling down because they'd decide that Peter isn't safe with Mr. Stark, and Peter would get thrown back to the wolves- and Ned knows the plan would be them going on the run together. Mr. Stark would help them change their names and they'd go to a school in some remote country together, and Ned's Lola would only maybe question it if Mr. Stark didn't charm her somehow. That could work right? Because Mr. Stark has enough money to make it go away and he wouldn't lose his best friend forever-

And Ned is maybe thinking of worst case scenarios, yeah, but he's had a pretty bad day today and it's only getting worse the more he thinks about how Peter could be dead and they don't know, because that stupid guy that snatched him-

"At this point I need to put a placard on the couch dedicated to you like it's a park bench."

Mr. Stark heaves a sigh as he settles onto the couch next to Ned. His clothes are disheveled enough that Ned is convinced he either just woke up (it is 4:32PM) because he searched all night or he hasn't gotten any sleep at all and was holed away in the lab. The dark eye bags are proof for both options, so Ned is stuck.

He folds his hands in his lap, unfolds them, then decides to stick with folding his hands anyway. Then he gives up and rubs a hand on his chin, turns to Ned, and says:

"You know, realistically, I could make a lightsaber if I wanted to."

Ned stares at Mr. Stark.

"Why wouldn't you want to?"

"Five seconds."

Ned pauses, debating on whether to answer that or not. Every conversation he has with Mr. Stark is like figuring out a riddle or… no, it's like waiting for a jack in the box to pop. But instead of a jump scare, he has some clever line or snarky remark waiting to be sprung on you.

"…Until Peter and I would destroy something?"

A ghost of a smile tells Ned he got it exactly right. "So you're aware you would destroy my home if you had a lightsaber?"

"I wouldn't feel bad about it either." Ned admits. Mr. Stark barks out a laugh.

"I would have brought it upon myself. The same can be said about many, many, many things. Or not, because I'm sure I could throw out an NDA to anyone willing to point it out." Mr. Stark leans back on the couch, kicking his feet up on the table.

"You tell Peter not to put his feet on the table."

"Because of his god-awful shoes." Mr. Stark gestures to his own feet. "These are Berluti Alessandro, and I just had them cleaned. Peter is walking on the walls and all around New York in those ratty Good Luck shoes, like the animal he is that won't let me get him some better shoes. Also: I own the table, I say who can put their feet where."

Ned manages a smile then, some of that nausea chipping away at him. He hates to ruin what is most likely Mr. Stark trying to distract him, because all the adults seem to think that's the best course of action, but…

"Anything?"

Mr. Stark knew the question was coming, because he puts his hands behind his head and doesn't really say anything for a moment. It feels like he had already been thinking on what to say before he even got here.

"It's complicated." Mr. Stark decides on, and before Ned can open his mouth to tell him that just because he's 14 it doesn't mean he can't handle it when Mr. Stark raises a steady hand to silence him. "How much do you know so far?"

Ned squints.

"Don't look at me like that, like I don't know everything. I know some of us have been trying to keep you to bare minimum knowledge to not freak you out, but personally, I think that's stupid 'cause you're already freaking out. I also know there's no way you haven't been somehow figuring out how to get more from one person individually."

Ned does look away at that, because the guy's spot on. While the people he does get to talk to are wary because he's young and not a superhero like them, some of them can't resist puppy eyes. Others, like Thor, are totally chill and have no idea Ned isn't supposed to know some things.

"I don't wanna brag or anything, but because I have a massive amount of perception, I've noticed you got this tiny habit of making connections that other people don't. It's why Peter likes you so much." Mr. Stark adds when Ned doesn't supply anything. "So, whaddya got?"

Ned chews his bottom lip unsurely. He's kind of the opposite of Peter sometimes. Peter, as much as he looks up to adults, keeps things close to his chest, and he often pretends he doesn't need their approval. No, not need. Peter doesn't need anyone's approval to continue forward. But he sure does want it. He just would rather die than tell them that. Even if it's obvious.

Ned? The opposite.

God, he needs approval or he'll actually rot and die.

If a teacher is mad at him? Especially one he likes? Shoot him. Put him out of his misery. Lord forbid if they're disappointed.

Mr. Stark might not be mad or disappointed, it actually sounds like he could not care less about what Ned does and doesn't know. But he is an adult in the form of the most adult it can get: billionaire, father, and superhero.

Like, come the fuck on. This jerk knew Ned didn't stand a chance. He knew Ned would fold the second he said he noticed something Ned did, and when he mentioned Peter. He's a manipulative asshole.

(He's really cool.)

"The guy who took Peter is enhanced," Ned begins, and Mr. Stark doesn't make an outward reaction other than his eyes narrowing just a bit. "We don't know where either of them are because they haven't shown up anywhere else. And they're targeting you."

Mr. Stark's jaw clenches and he sits up, putting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands. He doesn't look at Ned, and he doesn't blame Mr. Stark for feeling uncomfortable.

On one hand, Ned is pissed.

He hates that this happened on their watch. Because Peter was supposed to be one of the safest kids ever- who the hell would go after a kid surrounded by Avengers? But on the other hand.

A lot of people would go after a kid that the Avengers are fond of.

From what Ned has gathered, there was a point of contact exactly three days after Peter was taken. There was only text, and they haven't been able to find the source of where this message came from. They don't know if it's an organization or if it's just two people, or just the one guy who took Peter. All they know is what the person demanded:

Tony Stark. We have Peter Parker with us. If you ever wish to see him again, you will comply with our demands without hesitation. You will reliquish control of Stark Industries, handing over all shares, assets, and intellectual property associated with the company. This includes but is not limited to:

Ownership of Stark Tower and all affiliated properties.

All patents, research, and technology developed by Stark Industries, including Iron Man suits and related technologies.

You will withdraw all positions of authority and influence within the business world.

Failure to comply with these demands will result in Peter Parker's inability to return.

There was no proof of life. No picture, no hair, no- god, no finger, thankfully. Nothing to say that Peter is alive, nothing to say that he's being hurt or not. The not knowing is the worst part. The thing is, no one will let Mr. Stark do anything.

He was ready to give it all up. He was going to, instantly. But everyone had to talk him down, because there was no proof of life, and Mr. Stark's tech can do monstrous, evil things when in the wrong hands. It's happened before, and it's one of Mr. Stark's greatest shames. Peter would never forgive him if he gave it all up and people were hurt because of it.

"Mr. Stark, you know Peter wouldn't be mad at you, right?"

"I know." Mr. Stark agrees, his voice low. "Doesn't make it right."

There's a pause between the two of them before Mr. Stark speaks again.

"We located where that original message came from. It was at an old storage unit in Queens." Mr. Stark says slowly. "Just down the street from where Peter grew up with his Aunt and Uncle. I don't think it's a coincidence. I think they knew it would get under our skins. They're telling us that they know a lot about Peter and a lot about me."

"They knew you'd react like this." Ned agrees, because it's not like it's a secret that Mr. Stark values Peter's privacy or his well being. When Peter was first brought into the home, Mr. Stark became the paparazzi hunter, sniffing them out like a hunting dog and putting them down no problem. Peter's image barely gets to one news source before Tony's lawyers drag them out into the metaphorical river bank to drown them.

It's easy to conclude from how Mr. Stark treats Peter when a news source is able to get their hands on something that Mr. Stark cares about Peter a lot. And it's noticeable with the absence of the news just the same.

"Do you think they know you?" Ned asks.

"I think so." Mr. Stark looks older when he's tired. "But because I was able to track down their first message, if we get any others, I'll be able to work faster. I don't know why they didn't include a time limit, or…"

Mr. Stark sighs like he's got one foot in the grave.

"Look, I really came here to tell you that we're going to have to get CPS involved."

"No!" Ned stands up from the couch and almost wobbles when the action makes him dizzy. "You know that Peter-"

"We can't keep saying that he's sick and faking doctor's notes." Mr. Stark tells Ned what he already knows. "They're going to find out sooner or later. Let me and Pepper handle that side of things. I promise, I won't let anything happen to Peter- Again."

His voice sounds choked at the end and he barely managed to push through like he wasn't going to be sick.

"I know you're his dad and you're a superhero and- and-"

Ned actually has no idea what he's trying to say.

"You know Peter will just disappear if they try to take him." Ned finally manages to get out. "What if they do? What if they say it's your fault?"

"They might very well say that, but I'm not letting him go anywhere." Mr. Stark is convinced, and it settles that voice in Ned's head that was screaming that everything was going to go to shit. "And when CPS comes-"

"We'll tell them I'm here, and everything is fine!"

Ned feels himself choke, and Mr. Stark freezes on the couch. The voice washes over them and then hits them again. Ned stumbles on his feet to turn towards the door they hadn't heard open, eyes wide and breath stolen.

"They won't suspect a thing." Peter says, grinning at them both. Ned feels like he's been dunked in molasses. "It'll work itself out from there."

Peter strides into the room, and Ned tries to make a noise but his mind is blue screening and someone took his voice away from him. Peter looks whole- he looks fine. He's wearing clean clothes, his brown, curly hair is neat and there's not a scratch on his face. Tears prick at Ned's eyes when Peter walks closer, relief heavy in his voice as if he'd been looking for them. "Dad, Ned, you look like you saw a gho-"

He barely is able to regain his bearings so he can run at Peter when Mr. Stark jumps from the couch, grabs Ned's arm, and fiercely glares at somewhere behind Peter, near the door.

"Loki." Mr. Stark seethes, and Ned flinches at how the hiss of anger melts the moment like poison. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Mr. Stark?" Ned is now behind Mr. Stark, and Peter- his eyes are green- stops in front of them. He has an unnatural grin donning his face, as if he hadn't heard Mr. Stark's anger. There's a brief moment where Ned tries to get closer to Peter, but then his best friend disappears in a cloud of smoke.

Oh.

Wait, no, not 'oh.'

What?

Ned feels his heart sink to his stomach as it hopes crush under foot. Someone's laughter echoes from the doorway. Like he's walked out of the shadows itself, a tall man with pale skin and slicked black hair leans forward. He takes a step into the room, heels clacking on the floor, and stopping a few feet away from the couches. There's a thin, unpleasant smile on his lips that makes Ned feel a little ill.

"Stark, I thought you would appreciate my little show." The man, Loki, Ned thinks, has his hands behind his back, as if caught with something he shouldn't have.

"I would appreciate if you didn't parade around my son's image like it's a joke to you." Mr. Stark is mad, and Ned feels like this is going downhill very, very fast. "Why are you here?"

Loki's eyes flick down at Ned, and it disturbs him to see how much it looks like Loki knows him. His eyes crinkle with amusement as he offers to Mr. Stark, "Why, to help you, of course. I heard you are in desperate need of an illusion."

"Peter, I swear to God, if I turn around and you're doing that freaky shit again, I ain't feeding ya till you're thirty."

Peter immediately puts down the five pans he was balancing on his nose. One of the most important lessons he's ever learned is "Don't mess with the guy that makes your food." And Benny is keeping Peter from starving, so the rule is doubled.

"I think it's less 'freaky' and more 'show stoppingly cool', but whatever." Peter hops onto a spinny tool next to the sink, setting down the last pan.

"I think you shouldn't get to think." Benny replies flatly, but Peter can see he's secretly amused. Because for some reason, old men never wanna admit that Peter is hilarious and fun and awesome.

The old man had insisted that Peter doesn't have to help out in the kitchen during closing, but Peter feels like it's the least he could do for how generous Benny is being. He feeds Peter and doesn't question the ungodly amount of food that he eats, he ignores the random appliances that Peter comes back with, and he doesn't call CPS on him. Also, they have nice conversation. So Peter has been making sure to come back during closing time to make the process go much faster.

He just has to avoid touching anything citrus and any of the vinegar that Benny has for some of his other menu items. It's fairly easy to do, considering Peter's spider-senses freak the fuck out when he gets anywhere close to them. Same thing with peppermint, tea tree, lavender, cinnamon, and cankers.

"Wow, if you're gonna have that attitude, I'm gonna take my show on the road." Peter jokes, sitting criss cross on the spinny chair and watching Benny do the dishes. The dishes are the last thing to do that night, and Peter is only allowed to hand Benny the dirty dishes and not wash them.

"Where you gonna go?" Benny's lip turns up into a small smile. "Back to New York? Good."

"I was thinking the circus. They could always use an act like me."

"An act like you?" A raised brow makes Peter scoff.

"Oh, please, they'd be honored to have me. Not only because I'm incredibly good looking, but I'm extremely talented, and my personality is charming. I'm freaky enough that I'd be welcomed with open arms."

"So you admit that you're a little freak."

"The balancing act is the least weird thing about me, Benny." Peter admits, but much in the tone that promises trouble. "What if I told you that I don't have bones?"

Benny pauses scrubbing one of the pans, glancing towards Peter with narrowed eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I don't have bones."

"Everyone has bones, Peter."

"I don't."

"Are you being serious right now?"

"Am I?"

There's a bout of silence, and Benny closes his eyes. He lets out long suffering sigh, and he must decide that this isn't worth the trouble, because when he opens his eyes again he sets down the pan in the sink. It disappears under the bubbles while Benny turns to face Peter and opens his arms wide, and says, "Alright, hit me."

"You've got my number down." Peter nods his head, impressed. Not many people understand Peter so quickly. He thinks it's old people talent. Or, maybe, it being Gotham, Benny is used to the weird.

"Get on with it."

Peter grins wide, already anticipating Benny's reaction. He's not as prepared as he thinks he is.

Benny expects Peter to get up from the spinny chair, but Peter puts his leg behind his back in one fluid motion. Immediately, Benny's face scrunches up in displeasure, making him look five years older. "Alright, but that's not really-"

He knew that was coming. Peter sets one hand in the middle of the spinny chair and in the same pose, lifts himself easily to do a one armed hand stand on the chair. He wiggles his fingers and manages to turn the chair around so he can face Benny, and barks out a laugh. Even upside down, Peter can see Benny has retreated back about five steps and is appalled.

"'Not really' what?"

"Where are your bones?"

"I don't have 'em."

"Bullshit." Benny takes a rag off his shoulder and hits Peter's side with it. Peter chuckles and gets down, sitting back cross legged on the spinny chair, throwing out his Picture Perfect Angel Smile™️ at the old man. "That's just gross and weird." He says, but it's got no heat behind it. "And be careful doin' shit like that here."

Peter's head tilts to the side. What does that mean? He thought that Gotham was a place that embraced the weird, the wacky, and the unsure. He's seen plenty evidence for that face: no one reacts to crime anymore, and a lot of people treat muggings with the same attitude as stepping in dogshit on accident. Annoying, but it won't kill you. And with the way they talk about rouges here, one would think that the rouges were just flies that buzz around their heads.

"How come?"

Benny draws out the silence long enough that Peter thinks he just won't be getting an answer. Something in Benny's demeanor shifts from having fun to uncomfortable.

"Peter, how are meta's treated in New York?"

He freezes.

It's stupid, considering Peter was just showing off a little. But at the same time, that's a human thing that can happen. Peter had just performed a contortionist move maybe a little too easily, but is that what tipped Benny off?

"I-I don't know."

Benny grunts, picking up the pan from the bubbles and resuming his scrubbing without making eye contact with Peter. "Alright, well lemme tell ya how they are treated in Gotham."

"Does- Does this have to do with Batman's rule?"

He keeps scrubbing, and Peter winces at the noise. "No metas in Gotham?"

"Uh huh."

"I don't know nothin' bout Batman or why he has his rules. He's stronga than me, because I woulda killed a lot of the rouges in this city a long time'o'go. But that's why I'm not a vigilante, y'hear? I served my country and did what I could to help people, and now I'm old. That ain't my business anymore."

Benny is avoiding the topic. Peter doesn't interrupt.

"'Round here, metas are either top of the food chain, or their fodder. Treated as inferior. Forced into those meta fightin' rings for people's entertainment, or made into lackeys for people like the Penguin or Black Mask, the like."

The who and the who?

Peter sits on that for a few seconds. He has about a million questions that just stacked up in his mind: What are the meta fighting rings? How do you know about them? Does everyone know about these? Does Batman? How did you know I might be a meta?

But to avoid bombarding Benny, and also because Peter knows he's gotta remain cool about this in case Benny doesn't know as much as Peter thinks he might, he just nods slowly, gulping nervously.

"They that common around here? I ain't ever heard of 'em before."

"Haven't, huh?" Benny seems to take this as confirmation of something. "Well, just lettin' you know. And non-meta homeless can be picked up too. So be careful."

Peter cracks a small smile. "You worried about me, Benny?"

"It's a real problem." The older man huffs in annoyance.

"…So…" Peter can sense that the conversation about the meta rings are going to go nowhere with Benny right now, so he tries to think of anything else to ask. Actually, he might have a good reason to be asking anyways- he wants to go out as Spider-Man tonight.

"Soooo?" Benny mocks.

"What is the deal with Batman and all these rogues?" Peter hands him another pan, and Benny gets to scrubbing. "Like, how come there's so many? I read on the wiki-"

"The wiki only holds at most half of Gotham and it's nonsense, kid." Benny warns. "You read about Arkham Asylum, right?"

"Yeah, that most of your rogues go in and out of that place like it's just a 30 minute timeout."

"It's something alright. A pain in the ass, more like it." The men grumbles, and then Peter finds himself the victim of a long winded complaint. "New Jersey don't got the death penalty. Now, we could make some fuckin' sense and put it back, 'cause seriously, how many lives is it gonna take before we do somethin' about it? How many kids lose their parents and how many parents lose their kids before someone makes a damn change? But nah, that ain't comin' anytime soon.

"Lord knows that we tried. But legislation takes years, it takes time, and it takes kickin' the government in the ass to get anything done. And the thing is, we ain't gonna be doin' any ass kickin' at the moment, 'cause they're keepin' us all poor and fucked up with chemicals and oil spills and bad infrastructure and corrupt cops. They got us where they want us, and they ain't gonna give it up easily."

Peter hums in reply, but Benny isn't doing much paying attention to Peter, so much as he's ranting about something it appears he's been angry about for a long while.

"There's too many people in power that benefit from the way things are for any change to get done any time soon." Benny grits his teeth, scrubbing a pan with vigor. "And 'cause we don't have the death penalty, even if we managed to get the rogues into prison, they could just escape from there the same way they escape the Asylum."

"Why don't they go to prison? Are they all actually insane?"

"Genuinely, kid, that's a loaded fucking question." Benny huffs irritably.

Peter sets his feet on the bars of his stool, watching the bubbles as they go down in the sink. "And Batman?"

Benny doesn't say anything for a few moments. Peter turns his gaze back up towards the older man. Benny has mentioned quite a few times about his career in the military, where there's a good chance he had taken someone's life. Peter is conflicted on that, but not towards Benny. A lot of people go into the military wanting to believe in something, whether that be believing in the country they live in, or believing in change.

"I say it takes a strong man to look at what those folks did, and to still understand it ain't your job to play judge, jury, or executioner."

Peter swings his feet as he ponders this. He very well knows this rule. When Ben…

When Ben died, Peter wanted revenge. He wanted to take an eye for an eye, a life for a life. He wanted that man to own up to what he did, to be sorry for ruining Peter's life, taking the one father figure that he'd ever known. He wanted him to grovel for the fact that it was him that had taken Ben's future from him in mere seconds. The man had so much to do.

He had so much to say. To teach Peter. The man might have gotten away with money, but what he really robbed Peter of was his childhood, and he robbed Peter and Ben of the chance to grow together.

Ben will never get to see Peter grow up, like he had worked so hard for Peter to be able to do. When Peter graduates high school, gets his first significant other, when Peter- When Peter himself becomes a dad, maybe, someday… Ben was supposed to be there for it. Sometimes Ben would joke that Peter might not need him around by that point, but Peter couldn't fathom that.

When would he ever stop needing Ben?

He's been dead for four years now, and still, the wound aches and bleeds like it was yesterday. Peter still needs him now, but he won't get him. Peter misses Ben like he missed May, like he wishes he missed his parents.

He'd been so angry, and yet he learned his lesson. The last thing that Ben taught him was that Peter had a responsibility, just like Ben had a responsibility.

"Batman is a detective or something, right?"

Peter only adds the 'or something' for the benefit of the doubt. But Peter has seen Batman in person before, had taken note of all of the body language that Batman had tried to conceal. he's kept his ear out, and from this perspective that Peter has, he can see it all too well.

A lot of 'vigilantes' outside of the hero community, they take on the job of being some kind of omnipotent Death like being. They have their own moral codes and they run into the fray to chant what they think is right. They don't give time for the system to do anything.

But Batman? The man took on the role of a detective in his vigilante work. He doesn't decide who lives or dies, he just works his ass off to stop them from killing people, from doing more damage than they already did.

If the system wasn't rigged, Gotham might actually have already seen a difference being made.

"I think so too." Peter replies. Benny glances over at him. Whatever is on Peter's face makes the man smile, and he reaches over with soapy hands to ruffle Peter's hair.

"Ain't it past your damn bedtime?"

"I don't have a bedtime, I'm practically an adult."

"Uh huh. Sure. Pass me that pan."

Here's the thing: now that Peter has his webshooters stocked up and the Jumping Radar is at a working prototype, he has very little reason to not go out as Spider-Man.

Okay, he might have some reasons. But those are personal; they don't count.

Like how he's actually kinda sorta terrified of what'll happen if or when Batman finds out about him being a "meta."

He's met Batman, Red Hood, Nightwing, Red Robin and Spoiler in person. And he may not have gotten up close and talked to Signal yet, but Peter has seen him in passing. There's been nothing to indicate a threat. And clearly, Batman has some sort of no killing rule, much the same that Peter does.

But that meta thing?

It feels like something he should still be worried about. Because like, the rule must be important, if the wiki had that information but barely anything else. They can only give vague descriptions of their suits and the timeline is more confusing than it should be, but the one thing they know for certain is the "no meta" rule.

Batman doesn't kill, but what happens instead? Would Peter be welcomed, truly welcome, or would it go wrong? Peter is gonna be walking right into the line of fire, if he doesn't play his cards right.

(He just prays that whatever fight he has with this guy ends up a quiet and quick affair and he never has to worry about Batman or the other vigilantes at all.)

There's that creeping paranoia that wraps around him at all sides when he even sort of considers coming clean. It smells like antiseptic and burns like a knock off super soldier serum that almost killed him.

let me go let me go let me go

Peter isn't willing to let anyone get close enough to experiment on him like that again. Even if they act like awkward dads and stalk him out of care for his well being.

(He knows how fucking stupid he sounds.)

But again, those are personal reasons. And if there's one thing Peter knows, it's that he can't be a hero if he's a little chicken bitch. Hence, very little reason to not go out as Spider-Man.

He should want to help people- he does want to help people. He feels like such a waste of space when he turns the other cheek to crime these last few days. Ever since Peter became Spider-Man, his first instinct was to jump into the fray. And man, he can't stop thinking about how useless he'd been when that woman was jumped.

Peter had been forced to go get help, to play victim, when he had every ability to jump into the fray and do it himself. If he had been back home, he could have done exactly that. Especially before Tony took him in.

When he was Parker, he wore the suit under his day clothes all the time, kept his mask stuffed in his pockets and always had his web shooters on. He wasn't going to school so he didn't have to worry about people figuring out that way. He could either be Parker or be Spider-Man at the drop of a mask.

That night in the alley, he was a coward. That could have cost that woman her life.

And while he had been trying not to place that burden on himself, it's hard. He became Spider-Man out of a desperate attempt to heed Ben's last advice to him, the day that he died. Spider-Man is a responsibility, one that Peter was granted as a gift.

The nighttime doesn't give him a long enough break to consider anything else.

Peter had a nightmare. It started as most do. A dream, being back home.

He had been sitting on the sofa in the lounge, listening to Steve and Dr. Banner bicker about TV shows. Natasha was asleep next to him, tucked underneath a soft quilted blanket that she and Peter were sharing. He thinks that he was working on something, there was metal and wire on the table in front of him, but he can't recall what it was exactly.

There was a snag in his project that he couldn't work through. He was careful to not jostle the couch and wake Natasha, and the voices from the kitchen behind him pattered out as Peter walked down the hall. He felt so tired in his dream, and his throat hurt. Not like a sore throat, but like something was crushing it.

It was getting hard to breathe.

His feet were moving too slow. Every step forward was in slow motion, like his feet were glued to the floor. The hallway kept getting bigger, and he stopped to watch the doors duplicate, adding and adding and adding more doors, stretching miles wide. He tried to turn back to go home, but was met with the sight of an alley and a smoking crater.

Peter coughed and forced himself to go down the hall instead- Tony should be behind one of the doors.

But he wasn't. No matter how many doors Peter opened, the rooms remained empty. That is, until Peter started seeing everyone but Tony.

Behind one door was Two-Face, standing in a warehouse with one half of the room in shadow from busted lights. He flipped a coin into the air, caught it, and he said, "Well it looks as though the odds aren't in your favor." Peter closed that door and searched another, met with the sight of Batman and the Batmobile. He reached out and held Peter's shoulder. "You aren't alone in this."

Another, and Red Robin was carrying Spoiler away from him, but the alley was smeared in blood and he could hear the wind howling in his ears. Another, and Peter was in a laboratory full of smoke and one of the other missing kids on the ground, eyes unseeing. Another, and Peter was met with a bathroom full of brown locks of hair and a crying baby, screaming, red in the face for someone to help him out of there.

"Please, please don't hurt him again! Please, someone help me! Someone help him- my Uncle- Please-"

But when Peter went to grab the kid, his hand turned to ash.

He had to get out of there. He was now checking the doors for a way to escape, ignoring Batman and Nightwing and Red Hood asking him "What's going on?", what they can do to help him.

Another door, and he was in the dark waiting for May to come find him.

Another door, and Ben was on the ground, trying to cover a 10 year old Peter with his body and shield him from the gunman.

Another door, and Dolores Basset was under the pool tarp.

Another door, and he was holding onto Karen's hand even though she had already been crushed by falling debris.

Another door, and Neri was screaming for Peter to save her. He kept hearing her begging even as he ran to the next door, which was just the empty sky over the Atlantic Ocean. Endless blue and white. And for some reason, Nightwing was trying to pull him away from the room. Peter said he was sorry and he let go, because he was desperate to get out and away from the people he couldn't save, and Nightwing's scream was horrifying when he tried to catch Peter-

That's when he woke up.

Peter rubs his eyes with one hand, sitting on the ceiling of his room. He's wearing his spider-suit, but holding the mask in his other hand. The Jumping Radar is fitted to his forearm, blinking up at him with the ready screen: Start program with voice command.

It feels comforting to be in the suit, to know that his webshooters are primed and ready to start swinging. He's gotten enough sleep, he had a good meal, he has a general idea of where to go and what to do.

Even better: Peter doesn't feel any eyes on him, tracking what he's doing and where he's going and who he's talking to. He doesn't know if that means the Bats gave up on him, or if they're just busy, but for Peter, it means that he has an opportunity to take.

But that nightmare is refusing to leave his mind, so Peter has to take a moment.

He's had the nightmare before, just… not like that. Not so Gotham-y. It always goes like this: he's somewhere safe, somewhere warm and protected, and where he didn't feel the pressure weighing on him. And then he's in that damn hallway, trying to get through all of the doors and find a way out.

Peter shivers.

He despises that nightmare. It's directly a copy of the night that Peter was bitten by the spider, just that the hallway will be somewhere else every time. It circles back to mock him every time Peter takes a break from Spider-Man. All of the people he hadn't managed to save, before and after he became Spider-Man.

It's a hallway of his failures. Likely because every poor hero needs a reminder of their incompetence.

Seeing that woman and having to rely on someone else to help her felt so awful that Peter couldn't really shake the fuzzy feeling in his brain. All because he hadn't put on the costume, all because he was a coward and had to run to someone else for help, that woman could have died.

That's the 'what if' that really matters to Peter. What if there's another family torn apart because he wasn't there? What if some other kid loses his parents before he even gets to know them? What if Peter can't be strong enough, can't carry the responsibility he has to help people? What if he can't do that right, and Ben will have died teaching Peter a lesson that was useless, in the end, all because Peter was a useless kid?

"Alright, kid, let's have a chat." Peter puts his hands on his knees, closing his eyes. If the voice he's pulling is like Tony's, fuck off, he's stressing.

"You had a rough night, don't let it freak you out. So what if you think you wouldn't be able to keep up with Gotham, or a some crazy mutant or enhanced guy who tried to kill you, or some dumb Batman or his dumb list of Robins? And who cares that you were already questioning what you want Spider-Man to be before you got sucked into an alternate dimension, and now you feel like you're going to make a monumental mistake, because you're a dumb kid who makes mistakes all the time-"

Okay, maybe this pep talk isn't working. He should reroute.

"Ugh, um…"

Peter is at a loss for words. Where does he start?

"…We all go through periods where we aren't living up to our own stupid expectations, it's annoying, but that's life." Peter remembers Pepper telling him that once. They'd been sitting outside of a conference room, sitting side by side on a bench. Peter had just taken the test to get into Midtown, and he didn't know if he was up to being the kid that all of these adults wanted him to be.

Pepper had held his hand and told him about the times that she felt inadequate. Where she wondered if she'd ever really live up to her own idea of what she wanted.

"We… all have moments where we think we won't be able to reach the goals we have. But that's when it's the most important to step up and keep your focus."

He feels his shoulders relax. The unsettled feeling is still there. There have been many, many times where Peter has failed. But he became Spider-Man for a reason, and that reason was to help people. But… He's never done this before.

That's the biggest reason he's so hesitant.

Spider-Man doesn't have an arch nemesis. He doesn't think any of the people that he fights count as one. Leap Frog, Armadillo? They're villains of the week at best, and like, to be honest, Peter has actually scheduled fights with them before.

It's true. They know he's young, and they've never really wanted to do more than cause chaos. Maybe it's because he isn't the police? Whatever their reasons, Peter has always had a sort of camaraderie with his villains that both surprise and bemuse his mentors. He's mentioned before that his hardest enemy to fight is Black Cat, and they also have some sort of frenemy thing going on.

He's never had a fight like this, where the stakes are raised so high. A fight that feels too big on his shoulders… Unless he counts the man that killed Ben.

But even then, that was a normal guy. Peter's experience with other enhanced people are the Avengers. They've trained him, they've built him up, they try to make him think ahead. They have handed him a lot of the tools of the trade, and he… Never considered that he'd actually use them some day.

Isn't that terrifying?

Some part of Peter must have felt like there would never be a day where he'd have to use the skills he's learned from his mentors to fight someone who is aiming to kill him, and has all of the ability to do that.

Ghost hands crush at Peter's neck. He thinks of the wind in his ears, the blue sky and white clouds. How he thought this is it.

He also looks at the nanobracelet on his wrist. Tony's work, the proof that he went running the second Peter needed him.

And then, the most important piece of advice he'd ever gotten slips out with a breath.

"That's all it is, Peter." He remembers someone reaching out their arms. Their face has long since blurred, unable to stick around because of the lack of photos. But he knows they were strong, and they would catch him when he jumped.

Whoa.

His breath catches in his throat. His feet toe the edge of the building- literally. He's so close to stepping off, that he can feel the edge of the roof under his shoes. His hair is ruffled by the wind that whips around him, teetering him closer to the edge. The city lights blink up at him, all of them a sign of an individual life.

He's scared. His heart feels like it's stuck in his throat, and his stomach is not agreeing with his choice. Why'd he have to pick such a tall building for this? Shouldn't he start smaller? Safer? Or, as safe as it can be?

No, it had to be like this. He can't chicken out now, he's done all of the testing he can while on the ground. Why is he trying to talk himself out of this?

Maybe because the ground looks so, so far away, and Peter feels really small. Really vulnerable. Maybe because his parents died from a fall, so why is he trying to tempt fate? Is he suicidal or just stupid? He doesn't have the answer to that one.

Or maybe he does. There's a large part of him that's screaming that he's being stupid, that he needs to stop trying to play hero. Who does he think he is, wearing a mask over his face and a hoodie he slapped a spider-symbol on with sharpie? Does he think he's Tony Stark, or Captain America? That he's some invulnerable super soldier or a genius inventor?

He's just a dumb kid.

Peter closes his eyes, fighting back the urge to step away from the edge.

And in his mind, he replays the only videos they had on VCR. He watched them so often as a kid, before they were lost in the Battle of Manhattan, that the videos were burned into his minds eye much the same as they had burned onto that old TV. His grandparents had been gymnasts and trapeze artists, and Peter had been a kid with asthma and glasses itching to try and fly like they did.

They never seemed scared. They stood above it all, waving down with genuine smiles on their faces. May used to pinch his cheek and say, "Dimples run on your Dad's side!" They made the art look easy, look accomplishable, even though Peter knew it was so difficult. That's why they were the best in the world, before they died.

There was an interview in the box of tapes, that Peter would play when he wanted to pretend his grandpa's voice was his dad's. In that tape, the interviewer asked them how they could be so confident in their ability. What did it take to trust someone so well, to know they'd catch you?

Peter opens his eyes again. He steps off the edge, and he learns to fly.

"It's a leap of faith."

Why the hell is he letting his inexperience take over his confidence? He wants to go home, he wants to be far away from this, and he can not just sit on his ass anymore. He can't wait for someone to come do the hard part for him. Who fucking cares that Peter isn't ready for this?

None of his mentors were ready. No one is, when the time comes to step up. This villain didn't care that Peter wasn't ready for this, but that's on par for the course, isn't it? Peter has always been used to life beating him down, one swing after the other. Life doesn't let you get back up sometimes. And when that happens, Peter's found that fighting dirty and pulling the fight down with him works wonders.

It's time to take matters into his own hands. He can do this.

He can do this.

Peter puts on his mask and he climbs out of his window. There's a crackle of lightning overhead. He feels the pull of his stomach as he lets himself free fall for the first few seconds, and then he swings out into the street, determination coursing through him.

It takes him some time to get used to swinging again before making himself get out there, out there. He jumps between buildings, memorizing the hold on different Gotham architecture, what feels more solid and what would crumble under his hand. He listens to the city breathe, he grows comfortable among her shadows and among her whispers.

He feels stupid for being so hesitant to get back out there.

The nightmare is all but gone from his mind as he leaps 20 feet through the air, the sprinkle of rain accompanying his dance. Being in his suit after all that time out of it? Peter feels free. Free enough to spread his wings, free enough to breathe. This is what he's been missing in this equation: he wasn't exactly Parker, but he didn't really feel like Peter either. But there's someone in between the two identities of his that has always been the bridge of that gap, that connects them to each other: Spider-Man.

When he's Spider-Man, he isn't Peter or Parker. He's someone else- he can be someone braver, tougher, and smarter. He can be someone kinder. He becomes someone who can't get angry, someone who can help people and it make a difference in their lives. So that there's no more doors with no more failures, no more people he let down.

Spider-Man is what Peter and Parker could never be. Peter died with Spider-Man, and Spider-Man gave Parker the means to become who he is.

He missed this. It's only been ten days but it feels like a life time to him.

Peter holds his arms out in the free fall, feeling that leap in his stomach as he gets closer to the ground. When he latches his webbing onto a building nearby, he flicks his wrist down and uses the momentum to flip in the air. A laugh lets loose above the traffic and a few heads tilt up to try and find him, but he's already gone.

The ability to be free, able to almost fly. But it wouldn't be fun just to fly- he likes the feeling of jumping, of spinning, of twirling in the air. When feet hit wall and the world tips sideways, he's at his most comfortable. He craves the itch of it, wants to get out and show off, like his grandparents got to do.

But he holds himself back. It isn't a show, no, and he's not going to be reckless. Right now, he has something important to do. And that's catching that villain that brought him here.

He runs along the side of an office building, getting used to sticky feet on Gotham's differing style- it's not like New York, but he can get the hang of it. He had refrained from walking on walls and ceilings when he was Peter just in case eyes had fallen on him again and he didn't sense it. But as Spider-Man, he can chuckle when someone points up at him to show their friends what they're seeing.

Peter missed that, too. New Yorkers seeing him in person for the first time, and then eventually hearing that he was a tourist attraction in a way. People wanted to spot him flying and jumping around buildings, and sometimes Peter couldn't help but get fancy with it. The exclamations when they'd finally spot him, the excitement when he got close.

(He doesn't miss paparazzi or being famous or anything, that was never fun and he often avoided it. But he misses New York, he misses Queens, with people who recognize him.)

Peter keeps his eyes out for signs, a voice he knows, or the beeping of the Jumping Radar on his arm. He can't exactly feel the tugging of his spider-sense, but he also is starting to think that this villain isn't hanging out near the Upper East Side, where Peter has been living. He had seen the man in the Diamond District, trying to get inside Wayne Industries. If Peter were a villain who just got dissed by a billionaire, he would head there at night to get inside and steal what he wanted so badly.

So Peter starts in that direction, swinging towards the bridge when his spider senses go off.

! watch out !

In the street below him, a young woman is holding out her gun in a stand-off with an older man. The two of them are arguing with each other, the man gesturing wildly with the gun and the woman flinching each time. At the woman's hip, a young girl is hiding in her skirts.

Just like-

Spider-Man cuts off that little voice in his head. He thwips the webs in their direction, grabbing both of the guns and flinging them up into the air. The woman screams when her gun is yanked upwards, and she takes several steps back to hunch over her daughter. Peter webs the guns onto the side of the building as all three gawk up at him in shock, jaws slack and fear flashing in their eyes.

"Hate to break it to you, but there is enough room in town for the both of you." He lands on soft feet and walks down the side of the building towards them.

The man's face goes deathly pale. Spider-Man opens his mouth to ask what the problem is, but the man turns on his feet and sprints off in the opposite direction down the street as if his life depends on it. The woman breathes out a huge sigh of relief, grabbing onto her daughter and tugging her close. But when she spots Spider-Man, her guard goes up just as fast as it had fallen. She takes another few steps back from him.

"Don't worry!" He brings his voice to a softer tone, just like Uncle Ben taught him when being polite. He also raises his hands so she can see there's nothing in them. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I'm Spider-Man."

"Spider-Man?" She repeats her eyes drag over him warily, still hiding her kid from view. However, there's little success in that, because the young girl is trying to see Spider-Man from around the skirt.

Her eyes widen when Spider-Man waves at her, and one tiny hand lets go of skirt so she can wave back at him. The woman moves her daughter's head back out of view, her voice sharp and filled with uncertainty.

"A-Are you new? I've never heard of you."

"You can say that." He shrugs, jumping down to be on street level with her. Her eyes fall down to Peter's height as if she expected him to be taller. "I'm new here."

"…Are you a Robin?" She asks, looking him up and down again. Likely to see if he has a bat or a bird symbol on him somewhere. Nope- just the spider on his chest. Hopefully, that doesn't make him lose any points.

"Nah, I'm not. But we're on the same side. Ish." He makes a so-so motion. "Is it okay if I walk you guys back home? It's dark out, and you know, people have guns."

He points being him at the wall, where her gun sticks out of the webbing. The woman's mouth presses into a thin line of discontent, and she blurts out: "It's just for self-defense."

"I know."

She repeats in a sterner tone, "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"…I know." Peter says a little softer. The young girl has peeked her head back out again, wonder in her eyes and her jaw dropped when she sees the guns on the wall. "There are people you gotta protect. Trust me, I get it."

The woman is close to tears, and she grips the girl's shoulders in an effort to still her shaking hands. The girl leans into her mother's leg, but is watching Peter in unwavering interest. The type of focus that a kid only gets when they aren't supposed to.

"Mamă?" The little girl whispers, and her mother smiles at her thinly, still shaken up. Her eyes drift back towards the guns, and Peter does as well.

"Can I get…?"

It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, because Peter really hates guns. But he certainly doesn't think he should leave them there. and he's not exactly able to tell her she can't have her own gun, even if Peter hates it. If she wants her gun back, she wants it back. Now, if it was Queens, he'd let the police handle that. But he doesn't want to do that in Gotham of all places. Police are already corrupt, but it's even worse here.

He takes both down from the wall, handing her back her own with the safety on. He crushes the other one in his hand, the metal bending like play dough. The young girl's eyes widen, and she points at Peter with a gleeful shout. "Dikh, Mamă! Kon si but zuralo!"

The woman stares at Peter's hand, her face a little pale from the show of strength. Oops. Her eyes follow Peter as he walks towards the trashcan nearby, dumping the crumpled gun away. He imagines that when he looks back, she'll be in the middle of running off, or she'll still be wary.

Instead, he turns around and she's putting her gun away, securely hidden in her jacket. She smiles down at her daughter, then crouches in front of her. "Yes, he is very strong. He's going to walk us home, isn't that nice of Spider-Man?"

She gestures for Peter to come closer, and he does. He squats down in front of the little girl, shaking her hand. The girl's eyes are full of stars, and her grip is surprisingly strong. Peter smiles underneath the mask, patting her hand gently.

"Introduce yourself, Scumpete." The woman gently prods the young girl. The girl looks between him and her mother, then back to Peter.

"I am Analetta!" The young girl shouts, showing off a bright smile with two missing teeth. She gleams with confidence, as if she'd practiced introducing herself before. "Nice to meet you! Spider-Man!"

"It's nice to meet you too, Analetta." Peter holds back a laugh, trying to sound majorly impressed. "You've got a nice handshake!"

Analetta beams. Her mother stands back up. Peter notes the tension has released from her shoulders, though she always keeps her eyes on the road around them, on alert. She doesn't sound like she's from Gotham, but she acts like she's lived here a while. "I'm Florence. Thank you, Spider-Man, for helping us out."

"Carry?" Analetta interrupts, reaching her hands up towards Peter.

"Analetta, no, Spider-Man doesn't want to carry you."

"He's strong!" Analetta points out. She's far from wrong.

"Piggy back rides are my specialty." Peter states. He glances up at Florence. "If mom says it's okay."

"Yes, she does!" Analetta doesn't give her mother time to agree. She runs around and jumps onto Peter's back, giggling when she settles in for the ride. Peter stands back up, ignoring how tight her arms are around his neck. He's given enough piggy back rides to neighborhood kids and old foster siblings to be used to getting strangled, he supposes.

"See, Mamă?" She says, peeking at her mother from around Peter's head. "Strong!"

"I know." Florence grins thinly, pale like she's a few minutes away from passing out from exhaustion. A hand reaches up to her temple, and Peter decides it'd be better to get them home now rather than later.

"Where we headed, ma'am?"

"Corner of Baker and Rose." Florence starts their walk, but she sticks nearby to keep an eye on Analetta. She doesn't trust Peter with Analetta completely, and that's a smart decision. Not because Peter is going to snatch a kid any time soon, but because if she wasn't concerned about a strange meta boy who may or may not be with the Bats potentially stealing her kid, Peter would be weirded out.

Analetta is the first to break the silence. She leans to ask loudly in Peter's ear, "How come strong?"

"I'm a meta." Peter doesn't flinch at how loud she is, but it's a near thing. Florence's feet falter, but she continues as though she hadn't hesitated. What's that about?

"Meta?" Analetta repeats curiously. "Like Signal?"

"Yeah, like he is." Though Peter doubts if that's really the case. Maybe he should be doing more research on what a meta is. He hadn't thought to look that up. Peter is classified as a mutant because of how he got his powers, are metas the same thing?

Analetta hums in thought. "Hero?"

"Yeah, I try." Peter can sense Florence's gaze turning back on him.

…curious

"How come spider?"

"'Cause I'm a spider." Peter replies, and he hears Analetta make a noise of discontent that she tries to hide. Peter grins, though she can't see it under her mask. "Are you scared of spiders?"

Analetta pauses, but then she states proudly, "No, I am not!"

"Yes you are." Florence raises a brow at her daughter. "You're terrified of them."

"Spider-Man is a spider." Analetta states as if this makes sense. "I'm not scared anymore."

"It's okay to be scared of spiders." Peter tells her. Analetta sets her chin on his shoulder, fully relaxed in his hold. Besides the death grip she's got on his throat, but still. Peter wonders what it is about him that kids seem to inherently trust.

"I was scared of spiders too, for a while. They're a little creepy looking, aren't they?" Peter admits to her. Analetta mulls this over.

"Yes." She agrees. "Don't like their legs. Too many. They don't need them."

"If it helps, most spiders want nothing to do with humans." He says as they turn the corner. Peter keeps his spider-senses on alert for nearby danger, but there's only the distant humming that tells him everything is Gotham-normal danger. "They'll leave you alone if you leave them alone. They can't really hurt you."

"Really?"

"Yep. And if a big, scary spider tries to bother you, just come find me." Peter tells her. Florence huffs under her breath as if the notion is ridiculous. And it might be, because he can't be there all the time. But maybe he can get a burner phone and give people that number? He'll remember Florence's address and bring her the number when he gets that set up. "I'll come and tell it not to bother you."

"You talk to spiders?"

"All the time."

"Because you're a spider?"

"Yeap." He nods.

He expects the next question to be, "What do spiders talk about?" like all young children ask. But Analetta is ahead of the curve. No, she asks what every adult at some point has either asked in horror, curiosity, or has joked about:

"Do you have butt webs?"

"No."

"Bummer."

"Ah, well, not in my opinion." Peter is glad for the mask, because his face flushes bright red when Florence barks out a laugh. "And also, has nothing to do with bums."

The walk towards Baker and Rose is a long one, filled with question after question from Analetta. However, with each question, the girl's eyes droop more and more, and she yawns through half of them. She sets her cheek on Peter's shoulder, and eventually her voice putters out into tiny snores.

Florence ignores the button to cross the street, simply striding through the crosswalk. She tucks back for a second to brush Analetta's hair back from her face with a smile. "It usually takes three hours of a lot of convincing to get her to fall asleep. Is that a superpower of yours?"

"Maybe, but it's probably unrelated to the spider thing." Peter has always been good with kids, so this doesn't surprise him.

"You have siblings?" She puts her hands in her pockets, glancing towards the sky.

"Foster siblings." Peter smiles warmly at the thought of a few of them.

In his very first placement- the one that wanted to adopt him, Karen and Devon- there was his older brother Chandler. Peter had been ten years old and Chandler was sixteen, but he never treated Peter like a nuisance of a little kid. In fact, it had been Chandler who had taught Peter ASL. Chandler had lost his hearing when he was young, and Peter had periods of time where he couldn't talk at all.

Neri was his foster sister that Peter grew very attached to, much like she had grown attached to him. She was younger than him, and she didn't mind the periods where Peter just couldn't bring himself to talk.

They had both…

Though for the most part, Peter's foster siblings were good to him, there were a couple houses with older kids that weren't as kind. There was one where he had his arm broken and he gained a concussion, and another where they pulled a lot of mean "pranks" on him that made him not want to go to school.

Like one where they put gum in his hair, and considering the texture of his hair (wavy, but with a few parts that seem like they might be curls if he cared about his hair), his foster parent at the time just took him to the barber and they cut it extremely short, almost buzzed. He felt naked for weeks.

Florence nods in understanding. "She's going to bother me for weeks about when you can next come visit. She did that for Robin a few months ago."

"I can swing by." Peter assures, already thinking to add it to his list of to-do's.

"You're a vigilante, Spider-Man. I'm sure you have much more important things to do than come visit us." Florence purrs with amusement.

"I might be a vigilante, but I enjoy this side of it more. Knowing people, and being able to help them out with anything. Besides, your family is important."

The corners of Florence's eyes crinkle when she smiles warmly at him. She almost reaches her hand out to touch Peter's head, but he hesitates and drops it to stroke her daughter's hair. Her smile grows sad, and she looks in front of her as they walk. "You sound mature, but you're a kid, aren't you? Like Robin is. Like they all were."

Peter recalls reading the timelines and the wiki's general idea of where they might come from. Not much is known about their specific ages, but telling from the time and the descriptions, 'Robin' has been multiple people- all of them kids or teenagers, like Peter.

He supposes from an adult perspective that should be worrying. But from Peter's… He himself is a teenage vigilante. And he doesn't know Batman's perspective on that. He could be raising a child army or something, but honestly, it might just track that Batman found these kids who were doing dangerous shit and decided to train them because he knew they weren't gonna stop.

That's what Tony did, after all. Why else would Peter be allowed to go out as Spider-Man still? He knows that Peter would just fuck off and find a different way to do that, and it'd take throwing him in a facility to stop him. And even then, Peter would get out.

(He always finds a way.)

"You don't like that?"

"No, not at all." Florence admits without hesitation, actually breathing a sigh of relief that Peter asked and she didn't have to bring it up first. "You should be doing kid things, you should be sleeping at night instead of risking your life."

They've come across a line of apartment buildings now, and there's small signs that this area is full of people with kids- bikes heavily chained together and connected to a series of different fences. Hopscotch games on the sidewalk, drawings of vigilantes and the sun, clouds, ducks and cakes all in brightly colored chalk.

And then they stop at a pink house, with lights on inside. There's people milling around the house, mostly women. A young boy presses his face against the glass, nose smushed and his breath fogging the glass, and his eyes go wide when he spots Peter.

"Mama, come look!" The boy is saying. Peter passes Analetta off to her mother, holding her head in a gentle manner so she doesn't get jostled awake. Analetta buries her face into her mother's neck, and Florence cradles her close, her eyes on Peter.

"I wouldn't change what I do for anything." Peter hopes she can hear his smile, his determination, even through the voice modulator. "Someone I love taught me once that we all have a responsibility to help each other. I was given a gift, I can't waste that."

Florence hums in thought, glancing up at her house with her nosy family members peeking through the window. They wave at her, pointing at Spider-Man and asking Who's that? What's going on? Is that a Robin?

Peter is torn on that- on one hand, he doesn't want to and shouldn't go around telling people that he's a Robin. Because he's not, and not only is it lying, it's not who Peter is. On the other, Florence trusted him because she thought he was connected to Batman and his Robins.

"You should come visit." Florence decides, looking back at Peter. "We'd love to have you, Spider-Man."

His chest surges with victory and happiness. This is what Spider-Man is. He's the one that shows up at the house to make sure you're doing okay, he's the one that does all the heavy lifting for everyone, the one that helps with flower pots and plays with the little kids, knows their names, so that if they ever need him, he can be there.

"I'd love to, ma'am." He waves at the window. A couple of them wave back, and the little boy grabs his mother to point out what they all saw him do.

Florence waves goodbye and she enters the house, immediately bombarded by the cacophony of family members wanting to know what was going on. The noise grows muffled when the door shuts, and Peter settles with a sense of belonging.

Gotham deserves that difference, that change, that the vigilantes are trying to make.

Peter claps his hands together, turning on his heel and facing the street. Everything is fine here now, so it's time for Peter to start looking for another set of people to help. Maybe he should go check out closer to Robinson Park, or the University District? There's bound to be drunk college teens in need of a spider friend to get them ho-

The screeching of tires cuts off that thought. LOOK IT! screams his spider sense, but he doesn't need it to tell him fucking anything, because if he somehow managed to miss the bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle careen towards the light pole on front of the apartments, he'd make an eye appointment.

He puts his hands on his hips, watching a group of seven teens (how did they even fit in there?) tumble out one by one, phones in hand and already freaking out.

"At least my first night out as Spider-Man isn't lame and boring." Peter tells himself, then he jogs over to the scene, where the driver is folding herself over the hood of the car and crying. "Hey, folks! Did you know this is a no parking zone?"

Something is off with Gotham tonight.

…Listen, Tim has been running around Gotham since he was 9 goddamn years old. And not because he was Robin at the time- no, he wasn't like Dick, he didn't put on the cape officially until he was 13 and desperate to prove he was a useful kid.

(He'll unpack that trauma on his deathbed, now is not the time.)

He was 9 years old and stalking Batman and Robin with stars in his eyes, but he was dead clever, not a spacey child caught in a daydream. He had to keep his wits about him if he wanted to survive each night. The second he got stuck in his head and stopped paying attention, he would either get mugged, or kidnapped, or, in reality, nearly fall off of a building. He got to know Gotham like he knows his camera settings: familiar, muscle memory, beloved.

Gotham is crazy in the way that it reminds Tim of a grandmother who definitely killed your grandfather a thousands years ago but no one talks about it because your grandfather was the Worst Person Alive and she was just reclaiming her life from his meaty, fugly hands. And she got away with it too, so what's the point of bringing it up all the time? She's the matriarch of the family and she loves you despite all of the various mental illnesses that was passed along oh-so-lovingly in the family bloodline.

Point being: Tim knows her, and she knows him because he's her deeply disturbed and needy grandchild, and Gotham is home. So of course he has a sixth sense for when something is Off.

He can't quite put it together though. Because Gotham is at it's typical, all night. He caught someone littering and told them off, he talked someone out of using cocaine before swimming, he stopped a few muggings, he busted a guy's nose for taking a swing at his teenager while he was piss drunk. And now Jason is knocking the heads together of a group of guys who thought they could harass the working girls without consequences.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

So why does it feel like something is happening, and he can't figure it out?

"Earth to Red Robin," Babs chimes in his ear. "Got something on your mind?"

"Huh? No, not really. Just… something in the air, I guess." Tim squints at the skyline, waiting for Jason to hurry up so they can move on. They're supposed to be keeping their eyes out for signs of Firefly, but duty has called a few times and they're stuck taking care of things like this.

"Uh oh, you got a feeling?" Tim can tell she's paused her typing.

Ugh, Tim hates when they think of his logic and thinking as a 'gut feeling.' He's just putting together clues, that's what all gut feelings are- the subconscious mulling over and processing what is known, and forming ideas before comprehending the thought.

But that's a fight for another time.

"…A little."

"Is it Firefly? You think he's gonna get up to something tonight?"

"…I don't think so? It's just one of those things." Tim sighs, leaning back on the roof and swinging his feet. "I don't have any evidence to back it up."

"Back what up?" Babs replies, sounding exhausted despite it only being 11PM. "Gonna fill me in on what's twisting your ear?"

Tim hums, taking a moment to think it over. He doesn't even know what it is that has him on edge. No, not even 'on edge', that doesn't sound like what he's got going on. More like something is going on, something shifted.

"Gotham feels like it's to the left."

"…To the left…" Babs clicks her teeth. "Gonna be honest with you double-R, I have no idea what the hell you're on about."

"Neither do I. That's why I said it's not anything big."

Though, Tim does observe the streets once more. Jason is talking with some of the working girls, probably letting the new girl down there know of the one clinic nearby that is trustworthy. There's not a lot of traffic tonight, even though it's a Friday in October, when all the college kids get in the last of their partying before Finals and Winter Break.

Actually, maybe that's what it is…

It's quiet. On a Friday. In Gotham.

"Huh."

"You figured something out." Babs groans, as if it's Tim's fault that he's usually right.

"Can't say it out loud."

Jason grapples up to the roof, lifting himself up with one hand to join Tim on the ledge. He taps the side of his helmet to listen to comms, shaking his head when he hears Babs' groan of immediate understanding. "Shit, it is, isn't it?"

"What is what?" Jason turns to Tim for an explanation.

Tim smiles thinly. "Can't say it out loud."

Jason cusses.

The 'curse' that every one of them believes in but most of them will not admit to: Never, ever, not in a million years, say that it's a 'quiet night.' At least, not out loud. Because that is asking for the ground to crack open and let loose all of hell onto Gotham for at least a week.

"We can ignore it." Jason comments, looking out on the city as if he could find something to blame. "It's not happening if we don't pay attention."

"You know what? You're right. It doesn't exist if we aren't looking at it."

"Exactly, Baby Bird." Jason claps his shoulder, and they nod in understanding.

"You're both going to eat your words. That's my gut feeling." Babs states dryly, and Tim can imagine she's wheeling herself towards her coffee maker in preparation.

"Well, excuse us if we try not to live every day paranoid, Oracle." Jason replies snottily. There's silence from both Tim and Babs for a few debilitating seconds, but everything is being said anyway. Tim raises an eyebrow at Jason, who runs a hand down his face (his helmet), and he points at Tim. "Maybe don't remind me of this family, dude."

Tim just purses his lips in reply. He doesn't have to tell Jason Todd that everyone in the family is majorly paranoid and levels of insane that should be tested. They'll just continue to blame B for that silently in their heads, like most of everything that they do.

"Crap." They hear Babs breathe out, and a second later, Bruce's voice filters through the comms as well.

"Oracle, did you just get that?"

"I did, I did. Already pulling up security in that area."

"What? What happened?" Tim wishes for the universe to give them one night that is quiet and stays that way.

"B and Robin just visited Commissioner Gordon. He showed them a sticky note that was left at the sight of a reckless driving case on the corner of Baker and Rose, and then another that was left with a mugger. All if has on it is a… drawing?"

Babs lets out a laugh, and B grows annoyed. "Oracle."

"I'm sorry, but that's kinda cute! It's really hastily drawn doodles of the people that were involved, and signed with a doodle of a spider." Babs tells them, still chuckling under her breath. "It's a cute way to leave a report for the police without being there."

"There's someone in Gotham acting as a vigilante without our knowledge." B is not happy about this. Tim stands up, already anticipating Batman's next sentence. "Red Robin, the sighting was in the Upper East Side. Go to Baker and Rose and gather witness reports. Everyone needs to keep an eye out for this individual."

"Not it." Jason pushes himself backwards and stands up, heading the opposite direction. "I got my own shit to catch up on."

"Swinging by Peter's?" Tim asks, and Jason scoffs.

"I have a lot of things to do other than stalk a 12 year old, dude."

"He said he was 14."

"That doesn't make it any better. You know that, right?" Jason stops to look at him with all the sass of a former theater kid. Fuckhead. Tim could end his whole career if he pointed that out.

"…But you're gonna swing by Peter's."

"Maybe, if I have time." Jason shakes his head. "You're headed that way right now, you go do it."

"I just got a different case." Tim reminds him. Because they both know once Tim focuses on this vigilante, he'll put anything else on the back burner until he's at least got something of worth to report back about.

Jason groans loudly, waving his hands animatedly. "Fine, fine," He has the nerve to act like Tim is twisting his leg despite the fact that he's obviously going to go check on Peter if no one else is able to do it. "I'll go check on the brat. But I ain't lyin', I got some other shit to attend to."

He's off before Tim could point out that the 'other shit' would just be the same thing he'd be doing with Peter- checking up on some kids who need help and a safe place to sleep, or get something to eat. Tim makes his way off of the roof, grappling out of the Bowery, trying to recall any other cases with a spider-theme he might have missed.

Bruce would really, sincerely, appreciate if children would stop becoming vigilantes.

He's heard comments from his peers and jokes (and threats, mostly from Jason) from his kids, and more than a few people online like to point at it without the context and go, "Batman employs child soldiers."

But he knows too damn well that these children, that everyone seems to think Bruce is picking up for the hell of it, would surely get themselves killed if Bruce wasn't taking them in and mentoring them. Dick was his first lesson in that case. He just wanted to bring the boy home and help him get justice for his parents, only to realize quickly that Dick would become just like Bruce if he didn't do something soon.

Barbara… he failed her in so, so many ways. He doesn't understand how she could ever make her way towards forgiving him, trusting him. He saw her as foolish, as untrained, as a kid trying to play at a role, and not for what she was: a talented girl that would become a brilliant woman and hero.

And then Jason, his son… If Bruce could go back in time, he would convince Jason that he didn't need to be Robin to be Bruce's son. He feels stupid every day, when he remembers that he lost his boy because he'd failed to see how much Jason craved his attention. That wasn't all it was, he knows that. Jason was a good, happy kid who was always a fierce protector. He protected his mother and the other kids before, and when he became Robin, he protected Gotham with the fire and passion of a kid that might really have been magic, just not how Jason expected.

Tim… Tim literally gave Bruce no choice.

That kid showed up Bruce's house, grabbed him by the collar, and shook Bruce out of his grief induced depressive state. He did that every day for weeks, and when that didn't work, he literally stole the Robin costume out of the glass case and saved Bruce and Dick, and from there, Bruce promised he wouldn't let this child with no self preservation instincts and this need to prove that he's a useful and good kid die on him.

Stephanie gave Bruce heartache so strong that it felt as if she had carved out his chest with a knife. She wanted to prove to herself that she wasn't her father's daughter, that she was better than him. She wanted to stick in to everyone's faces that she could make a change in the world, and it terrified Bruce when her fire could almost get her killed.

He kept seeing Jason in her eyes- the same with Tim, but with Stephanie, it was because she was just like him. And he had nightmares about finding her in Jason's place, in some warehouse far, far away, that Bruce was seconds too late getting to.

Cass was a light that he wished to protect, but one that he had no right to keep on a shelf. She was more than capable of making her own decisions, and she had decided to change the course of her life to be better than her parents. And she made that work, she learned a language that none of them can understand.

And with Damian, Bruce missed… so much.

Stuck in the time stream for a year, losing his memory each time he got closer to home and regaining it just to lose it again. When he had left, Damian was the sharp edge of a glinting knife, he was desperate to live up to his mother's expectations. He craved the title that he had been told to covet, and Bruce wasn't there when Damian learned that the knife he was trained to be wasn't all he was.

Duke was spit-fire, he's a natural born leader, a genius just like his other children. Bruce had been terrified when he'd learned about the We Are Robin movement, but upon getting to know Duke, he saw a kid that needed to know who he was, what he could do so save people. He'd thankful every day that Duke decided to join them, to be on their team. He's not a Robin, he's his own hero.

Bruce had always wondered if he was absent, would his children fare better? Would they be set free of having to dig out Bruce's heart for a semblance of love? He often wishes he could lay out who he was and who he is just to prove to them that he loves them with his entire being.

He knows that when he was young, he was an outgoing child. But life and death stripped that away, and often, now, the words gather in him, but they refuse to leave. The boil down into overwhelming feelings, and that's when Bruce is the most lost.

He'd give anything for them to give up this life, to become as regular citizens as they can be. Bruce wants them to feel safe and at home, and even if they have been betrayed by the world, they could find solace in no longer being alone. However, he recognizes that it would be stripping them down of their will, and he has to let go of his fear if he wants to keep them alive.

There's a child out there right now, and Bruce can feel a cycle repeating.

Those sticky notes were all he needed in order to figure that out. The handwriting and the drawings on some of them indicated a level of juvenile that felt just like looking at a notebook for his kids' schoolwork. He wasn't at all surprised when Gordon informed him of the witness descriptions.

Bruce stares down at the docks below, frustrated not for the first time that he couldn't be in two places at once.

He wants to go out and track down this teenager and either stop this before the ball gets rolling, or figure out how in the world he's going to tell everyone about this without them immediately making the jokes that they do. Instead, he's forced to sit out the stakeout, because they got good information that Two-Face was connected to a shipment of explosives that were coming in, and Bruce needs to put a stop to this plan that's brewing.

Damian is settled next to him, underneath Bruce's cape to shield him from the sharp fall wind and the slight spattering of misty rain. A fog is settling in on the shipyard, gray and preventing their ability to see farther out than fifty feet into the water. Damian is working on a case, but he'd paused his reading a few moments ago.

"Peter."

…Not what Bruce expected the problem to be. "Peter?"

"He's withholding information. To all of you." Damian informs him as if Bruce wasn't very clear on that. "You had the perfect opportunity to get him to talk or to figure out what he was doing, but you didn't."

"Are you asking me why?"

Damian just looks up at him with his brows furrowed.

This is a conflicting answer.

Peter is most definitely hiding something from them. Bruce has a lot of theories, but his most promising one: Tony and Peter did move to Gotham, but through shady means. Tony didn't leave Peter by choice, was most likely captured by a rogue. Possibly Two-Face, because Firefly wouldn't take a hostage and would rather blow something up. Or Tony was involved with Penguin, maybe Black Mask. Peter is left on his own during that time.

Or another theory: Peter is being held leverage over Tony, and this is the man's way of protecting him.

But there's also a good chance that Tony is abusive, and had left Peter. Seeing as Peter has no records that they can find, he might have been involved in human trafficking, and now Peter is on his own. But that doesn't explain why Peter was so attached to Tony, convinced the man is coming back for him.

Peter does sort of match the description of an abandoned child. Mistrusting of other adults, neglected, malnourished, defensive.

But these are no doubt theories that the others have formed as well, if Bruce taught them right. And he did, as best as he could.

Meeting Peter… Bruce had not been on the case because there were more time-sensitive cases to attend to. Having rogues out and ready to strike at any moment required his full attention. He just so happened to meet Peter while staking out that bar that Harvey frequents.

Bruce might dislike the adoption jokes because they hold a huge amount of truth in them.

He took one look at this reckless, snarky child, who was exceedingly calm in the face of danger, and thought: This is all too familiar. Because there is something in the universe that has made a circle in time around him, always bringing him the same story over and over.

Besides that, Peter reminded him so much of Dick that it felt like a slap in the face. Not just because of the tan skin and the dimples, nor the eyes that resemble Dick's mother's, but his attitude. Bruce almost wondered if he'd stepped through time as was looking at his first son as a teenager. He almost did decide to take Peter back to the Batcave, like Peter kept joking about.

"If I had taken Peter back with me, what would you expect from that?"

"Interrogating him and finding out what he's been hiding."

"Robin, he wouldn't have told us a thing." Bruce tells him. "He would have been defensive and refused to answer our questions. He was already mistrusting of me. When I took him back to where he's been staying, he relaxed so visibly that I knew he had already thought that I would interrogate him."

"But if he does want his foster father back, why wouldn't he tell us everything that he knows? He has to be involved in something, he has a secret that could cause more trouble for us." Damian's words only prove to Bruce that he was right, that his other kids had assumed something either happened to Tony or Tony left him. "If you all continue to coddle him and he turns out to be a threat-"

"Then he turns out to be a threat." Bruce interrupts. Damian falls silent, save for the click of his tongue in annoyance of being interrupted, "Tt", but Bruce can see he's bottling up a lot of what he wants to say. "There are some cases where giving the benefit of the doubt means more than we know."

If he hadn't been so hung up on his paranoia in the first place, Jason wouldn't have thought that Bruce was going to discard him, and even if he had left for Ethiopia, he may have brought Bruce with him.

He hadn't given Dick the benefit of the doubt, nor Tim, not Steph… He's trying to be better. And something about Peter- something about how that child looks like a copy paste of his son- tells Bruce that he won't regret going against his every instinct. Not this time.

Damian is unsatisfied with that answer, but he's at least thinking about it. Maybe one day, he'll understand. For now, they settle their eyes on an incoming boat. The lights on one side are off, casting one side in shadow, and the other in light.

"Another sighting was reported." Babs chimes in his ear.

Tim is going fucking crazy.

Here's the thing: Tim oh-so-prides himself on his patience. But this Spiderjerk that everyone keeps talking about? Gotham, give him strength not to strangle the guy when they finally meet up.

Tim thought that this case wouldn't take so long- would be done in a couple hours, tops. This isn't the first time someone got it in their heads that they would try to be like the Bats and Robins, wanting to do good. Or, just punch shit. Or kill, thinking that they're doing the right thing. Jason only gets away with killing because B can't handle losing him again, and even then… Yeah.

They get it a lot. Hell, that's how they got Duke. He was not only the leader of the We Are Robin movement, he was doing his own vigilante work for a while before Bruce was finally able to grab him by the scruff and bring him home.

However, none of those people were like this.

Turns out, that reckless driving case? According to the witnesses (seven drunk teens), Spiderman picked up the car with one hand and moved it away from the light pole. He then proceeded to explain everything that was broken with the car, asked someone in the apartments for bottled water, and lectured the teens on the dangers of drunk driving. He left the sticky note with the most sober of them, and then fucked off to go stop a mugging. There, he left another sticky note.

And then it just keeps fucking going, except this dude is everywhere.

It wasn't just the Upper East Side- he gave a Metropolis transport directions to a clinic. He stopped a bike theft in Robinson Park, he helped EMS in the University District transport patients that got into a boating accident- that's on the other side of the fucking island! Babs just keeps coming in with more reports, more sightings, more stupid fucking sticky notes!

"Someone in Coventry just tweeted that a guy named Spiderman helped him find his dog and gave him a sticky note doodle-"

"Are you serious?" Tim should not be this pressed, but there is. No rhyme or reason to where this dude shows up, and Tim has been chasing his tail since 11PM. It's nearing 2AM now, he should be heading back to the Manor to crash.

"He's good, whoever he is. And his doodles get better throughout the night." Babs has the nerve to sound impressed. "He draws dogs with two circles, four stick legs and a stick tail, and a smiley face."

"I don't care how he draws his dogs!"

"You should." She snickers in his ear. "Oh, hey. Wow, you're gonna hate this. Someone in the City Hall District just reported that a guy named Spiderman stopped a car from running into the G. Superior Courthouse."

Tim closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath.

"You mean he's somehow gotten from Coventry, past Robinson Park, the bridges, the Diamond District, Old Gotham, and made his way near the docks. On the other side of the city? All in what, less than twenty minutes?"

"Have we ruled out teleportation?"

"He has to have teleportation!" Tim shouts running a harried hand through his hair. "How else is he getting places so fast?"

"So, this guy is clearly a meta in some way, if he has the strength to lift a car with one hand."

"Keep in mind that they were drunk and no one else reported super strength."

"Hey, weird."

"What is it?" Tim turns on his heel to start grappling towards City Hall District. He's pushing it time wise, but anyone who lectures him about taking his time to get home can take the case from him and they can find this Elusive Spiderman instead. Because Tim is going to lose his patience.

"Some witnesses described Spiderman as short, and a lot of people thought he was a new Robin." Babs explains, and Tim clicks his tongue. Bruce and Jason aren't going to like that. "But the witnesses at City Hall all describe this Spiderman as being an adult."

"Guess I'll have to look into that too." Tim grapples past Robinson Park. He's about to make it towards the bridge when Babs hums in his ear.

"...Hey, double-R."

"Please don't tell me what I think you're about to tell me."

"He was just sighted in the Upper West Side."

Tim's eye twitches under his mask.

When he had said earlier that he felt that something was off, he'd been desperate not to be right. He's got a lot on his plate right now- he should be at home, studying for midterms so he can get this stupid GED that everyone says is sooo important.

(He should be in the Batcave, trying to find any sort of online trail for Peter, because seriously, where did that kid come from? Is he connected to a human trafficking case? Are there more kids out there that they don't know about? Is this Tony guy someone they need to take down? Why does Tony not have anything on him? Is that even his real name?)

But instead, he's chasing after this Spiderman guy, because Hell opened up. Maybe the 'Can't Say It Out Loud' rule should be changed to 'Don't Even Think It.'

Peter is having a lot of fun.

Once he got back into the swing of things, it was like he hadn't missed a day. He's gotten to meet a lot of people, and apparently, Gotham is more trusting of someone who might be a Robin than they are trusting of a random 14 year old, so maybe that's another point for how trustworthy the Bats are. Cause if their people trust them like that, then they've got to be doing something right.

He's been doing this for so long that he almost forgets why he went out in the first place: to find the guy that grabbed Peter and brought him here. It's as he makes his way closer to Diamond District that Peter's senses go off and he's reminded of what he's there for.

RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE!

Peter flips when he reaches the arc of a swing, peering below at the assortment of rooftops. The Jumping Radar is shouting out at him, letting him know that it senses a disturbance of air nearby. Peter pin points the location on his map, and is thankful to find that it's not inside of a building, but on top of one.

A white light flashes at the top of a building, startling Peter as he remembers the sensation of teleporting like that. He ignores the memory in favor of stopping his webbing mid swing and thwipping out another to head in that direction with a grunt.

He swerves over the top of that building in an arch, landing on the roof with silent feet. He drops down to his hand to keep his balance, scanning the roof with wide eyes.

near see it? right there! bad bad bad

His heart pounds as he spots the figure of the man, running away from where he appeared and hunched over himself.

This is it. This is what Peter has been waiting for, has been prepping for this entire time. He should be excited, but all he can really feel is anticipation and the overwhelming urge to get sick. He really hates that getting nervous makes his tummy hurt.

The man is scrambling to get down to the fire escape on the side of the building, chattering loudly to himself and clutching onto a metal briefcase. His giggles sound almost demented, or like they slip not from laughter or joy, but from a broken piece of him.

Peter tilts his head, eyeing the man as he crawls flat on the roof, hidden inside the shadows.

His hands movements are odd- snappy one second, but then fluid the next. When he laughs, his head twitches towards the left. His spider-senses hum with low danger danger danger…

no close don't bad idea

But how else is he gonna get that wrist tech?

"I got it, I did! I did excellent!" The man's voice rings in Peter's ears. He might not have been able to hear what was being shouted at him when they were falling, but he does recall that the man's voice and made a shiver run down his spine before he had kidnapped Peter.

No time to be scared, Parker.

Spider-Man stands on his feet, watching as the man struggles to hold his suit case and get down the fire escape. He cocks his head to one side, wondering how the hell this fool managed to one up him in the first place.

"I'd bet good money that whatever is in that briefcase doesn't belong to you." Spider-Man's voice has the man spin around, one foot slipping on the fire escape with a clang! He catches himself with one bony hand, wildly pointing at Spider-Man with the other.

"SSSpider-Man!?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out." Spider-Man stalks closer. He was right, the briefcase has a large, shiny logo for Wayne Enterprises on the side. He's disappointed with himself that he hadn't gotten here in time to prevent the briefcase from getting stolen. Does he have tech, or something else inside there?

"Give me that wrist-piece."

"Never!" The man howls like Spider-Man had suggested cutting off his arm, holding his wrist tight in his other hand and shaking himself. "Never! Never! It's mine, you can't have it! Go away! Get back!"

"And I'm supposed to just listen to you?" Spider-Man scoffs at him. The idiot sounds like a petulant child. "And what's in this?" Spider-Man growls, thwipping a web at the briefcase. He expects it to release from the man's hand no problem, but it doesn't budge.

They stare at each other, and Spider-Man takes a moment to remember who he's dealing with here. No normal human can hold onto something that tightly, not with Peter's and the webbing's strength.

"You're enhanced?"

"Mutant," The man corrects, electric yellow eyes blinking one at a time. A wicked grin spreads across his lips, revealing a row of teeth with hooks at his canines. Fangs, but they're covered enough that he can't tell what type they are. "And a genius. I created the ability to travel dimensions!"

"I don't understand. Instead of showing the world what you did and getting the credit that way, you start trying to steal from Stark Industries and now the Wayne Enterprise?" Spider-Man shakes his head.

The disappointment eats at him- all of this wouldn't have happened if the man had half of common sense to go along with the intelligence he has. He could have had something revolutionary, but whatever is broken in his brain prevented him from understanding that. Spider-Man tugs the briefcase, but the man's hold grows stronger.

"Why did you attack Peter?"

Because the least he can do is bother to give some clarity to the situation. He hates being out of the loop.

"The boy is leverage!" The man squals, tugging the briefcase back to his chest and attempting to get away. He kicks at the webbing in a futile attempt, then tries biting it only for it to stick to his mouth for a moment. He spits it out and rubs it off on his shoulder, growling under his breath. "I need that tech! I won't stand for a company stealing my ideas!"

"Stealing!?" Spider-Man grits his teeth. "You kidnapped someone!"

"I do what is necessary!" He retorts, as if it made all the sense in the world.

"Why bring him here? To this place? Why not just keep him in the original world?

Because that makes no sense either- Peter could be leverage in his own universe. Unless-

"No one else can get him back, like this." The man laughs, a wheezy thing. "They could find him if we left him in that universe. No, no here, we have the power over them and the boy."

Except the moron hasn't even questioned what Spider-Man is doing in this universe. Some genius he is, not knowing who he's talking to, or why. Is he seriously not even going to ask? He was only a little surprised that Spider-Man showed up to stop him?

"A boy that you have no idea where he is?"

"That-!" The man scowls fiercely at the reminder. "That was a mistake!"

What?

"What do you mean?"

"Lost the boy." The man hisses, narrowing his eyes and glaring at Spider-Man. "Was supposed to keep him, but I hadn't tested travel with two. He slipped, fell. I found a crater but no boy."

His heart thuds louder, blood rushing in his ears.

He was… This man was trying to keep Peter?

Alright, he knows that it made no sense to just let Peter loose on Gotham, but Peter hadn't even thought about it. He had supposed that this guy was crazy enough that he wouldn't think that far ahead. But actually, Peter was supposed to stay captured…

Oh, god. Because Peter is leverage.

They had no proof of life to send back home, to show that Peter wasn't dead, or dying. No doubt that threw a wrench in this guy's plans, but Peter is thankful.

Not because he now thinks that his family might definitely assume he is dead and gone, or they're holding out hope that Peter is fine and they're bluffing. That sucks. But to think that if things had gone right for this guy, Peter wouldn't be out in Gotham, having access to vigilantes that check on him, and the man would have figured out that Peter is Spider-Man, or he would have hurt Peter in an effort to show Tony that he means business? And Peter would have been really reliving his worst memories of the last time he was kidnapped, and-

"Who are you?"

The man's smile reminds Peter of a serpent, and he has to resist the urge to take a step back. His entire body rushes cold, his neck buzzing as his spider sense whispers in his ear.

danger back away leave go bad danger no no no

"I am Dr. Jonathan Ohnn." He answers.

Ohnn… Ohnn… for some reason, the name strikes Peter as familiar, like he's heard it before. But he doesn't have the time to think of it now, he needs to get that wrist tech and the briefcase away from this guy before he uses it to do something drastic- and Peter would like to get home.

Spider-Man tugs harshly at the case. It doesn't budge from his hand, but Ohnn stumbles forward. Anger flashes in the man's eyes, and with a fierce snarl, he snatches it back- Peter's eyes widen as he sees the flash indicating a jump and he jumps forward to grab onto Ohnn's arm. "You're not going anywh-"

His voice is drowned out by the feeling of a jump, just as unpleasant as he remembers. When they pop out on the other side, it's in the air above the alley. Wind whips around them as Peter struggles to grab the band, and Ohnn screeches in rage.

The case is raised up in his fit of violence and Peter takes a blow to the face, the metal crunching his nose. He blinks past the pain and keeps his hold strong as Ohnn jumps again, this time near the ground. They both go tumbling, rolling onto the street in a fury of fists and kicks.

Actually- it looks all too childish, if he takes the split second to view this from an outside perspective. If a childish game of slapping and kicking also involves slamming a briefcase down on someone heads in multiple repeated blows.

"Give it to me!"

"Die, you insect!" Ohnn screams back. The next hit is with Ohnn's bare fist- the briefcase falling to the ground- and hurts, somehow, more than the first hit with the briefcase. Peter's grip slips on the wrist, but he squeezes with more force and sticks to the metal.

Ohnn screams in pain, and there's the crunch of metal underneath Peter's grip. He tugs Ohnn's sleeve up and attempts to peel back the wrist piece off of Ohnn's arm, but Ohnn manages to wiggle out of Peter's grip.

He kicks up at Peter, hitting his stomach. Peter grunts in pain, but closes his fists around Ohnn's ankle, turns on his heel in a circular motion, and starts to swing Ohnn around like he's a bat. Ohnn screams when Peter lets go of him, sending the man into a nearby car. The windows bust and glass shatters onto the pavement and inside the car. The alarms screech in protest, and lights go out in the apartments around them one by one.

People are scrambling to get inside, some of them barely taking the time to glance over their shoulders to see what is going on. Peter grits his teeth, dropping into a running stance as Ohnn gets back onto his feet.

Ohnn jumps before Peter can get to him. He appears behind Peter in a flash, laughs in Peter's face as he grabs the briefcase, and jumps just before the webbing can hit his face- disappearing into ash.

Peter's left alone as the street plunges into complete darkness. Dead silence hangs over them all, the hum of electricity disappearing and leaving only anticipation in its wake. Gotham holds her breath, and through the darkness, it feels as though someone's eyes have fallen on him.

The power flickers back to life moments later, save for the light pole above him.