Damian hated to admit it, but having Peter Parker around was…becoming more and more enjoyable. He sneered at his own thoughts, but made no effort to deny them. In fact, it was all that he could think about during the car ride home from school.
The teen was incredibly smart, both emotionally and logically. He knew just what to say to get on Damian's last nerve, but also knew how to follow up to save himself from Damian's wrath. That was how he had weaseled himself into Damian's room last time to study.
Not this time , Damian thought, climbing out of the black GMC and briskly ascending the garage steps into the Manor. This time, I will be demanding his presence before he can even think to offer it.
Satisfied with the plan, he set off to find the lanky teen. While his adopted siblings filed into the Manor's various rooms to do.. Whatever they had planned, Damian instead went hunting the halls. Every dark corner was glanced over, and every door was pushed open.
Now Peter may be smart, but Damian surely was smarter. It could not be that hard to find the teen- but alas, the young Wayne had nearly checked every one of his usual spots, only to find nothing. No sign of Peter, not even a stray web.
Part of him briefly considered just texting Peter to find him, but that would be admitting defeat. Sure, he had the teen's phone number for security reasons, but he had yet to use it. He certainly did not plan on starting now .
"Alfred?" Damian hummed, stepping into the kitchen after his lap of the first story had left him empty handed. The older man paused at the counter, having been pulling out fresh fruit and vegetables to start preparing dinner. He raised a pointy, gray eyebrow at Damian's waiting question. "...have you seen the spider?"
It seemed to take the man a few seconds to fully process what Damian had asked. He was intentionally looking for Peter, and did not have an ounce of malice in his tone.
Alfred smiled, ignoring the impatient huff that Damian had released. "...I believe that you'll find him in the west ballroom, Master Damian."
A curt nod was the only form of thanks that Damian offered, intense gaze softening ever so slightly as he looked at the man for a moment longer before turning to continue his pursuit. His quiet steps became impossible to hear the closer he got to his goal, as he regulated his weight distribution. A trick that he had learned in the League, and perfected under his father's guidance.
The wide and grand doors to the west ballroom were already open, which played perfectly into Damian's stealthy approach. There was no need to push the heavy doors open, so he instead stepped inside cautiously, eyes analyzing the large room immediately.
Afternoon sun bled through the towering windows, mixing with the artificial light of the three chandeliers overhead to give the room a pleasant glow. At this point, the room was empty of any furniture. They had not held an event in the room for quite some time, but he had overheard some plans of another gala taking place soon.
Damian internally wondered if Peter would be participating with the rest of the family.
He froze in his tracks, eyes widening at his own thoughts. Had he seriously just called Peter part of the family? That could not be right. Peter was… he was still a stranger. Just because Damian was starting to tolerate him did not mean that he was willing to consider him family . He was not as foolish as Drake, or Dick.
He would not open up as easily as they had.
Damian steeled himself, pushing aside the unwanted thoughts so that he could focus on his goal of locating Peter Parker. With the room so empty, he had assumed that it would be easy. His initial thought was that maybe Peter was by a window, or perhaps even using the wide space to practice with his webs.
His webs , Damian reminded himself, using the reminder to look up toward the arching ceiling. The arched rafters that supported the vaulted ceiling were similarly clean of dust and cobwebs. Dick must have helped Alfred recently. Or Cassandra.
His gaze traveled from one end of the room to the other, and if he had not been trained in surveillance, he would have missed the gentle tilt of the largest, central chandelier. Something was weighing it down on one side, turning it ever so slightly lopsided.
Upon closer inspection, it was not some mystery weight. Instead, a vaguely Peter-shaped figure could be made out among the expensive crystal and glass pieces. Damian held his breath, eyes widening as realization dawned upon him.
He had once heard stories of Dick doing something similar at Peter's age: sleeping in chandeliers was apparently a Wayne family rite of passage that he had yet to accomplish.
The youngest Wayne bit the inside of his cheek. Quit calling him family, he's done nothing to earn the title.
Damian crossed the ballroom until he was standing just out from underneath the chandelier, neck craned to look up at Peter. From this angle, he could better see the teen's peaceful face. He really was asleep up there.
He supposed it could be somewhat comfortable. The slight swaying of the chandelier reminded Damian of the hammock that Stephanie had put in one of the media rooms (that he absolutely had not used. Not at all.) The only thing about sleeping up there that Damian might not like would be all of the light. It was a miracle that Peter found any sort of rest up there.
Damian frowned, realizing he now had to get Peter down . At first, he found himself concerned for the safety of the chandelier. If Peter fell, or got too startled, there was a small possibility that he would take the expensive light fixture with him . The thought only made his frown deepen.
So he tried something more subtle than just shouting. First, he cleared his throat, eyeing the elevated teen for some sort of reaction. When nothing happened after a few seconds, he did it again, but much louder and much more impatiently.
Again, nothing. The gentle rise and fall of Peter's chest stayed at a consistent tempo, revealing no disturbance, despite Damian's presence.
Damian sighed heavily through his nose. Throwing an object was not an option if he wanted to get out of this with the chandelier fully intact.
"...Parker." he said, voice projected and temper short. He made sure that his annoyance got through in his tone, hoping that the frustration would cause Peter to wake up with a bit more urgency. It, of course, did nothing more than make him stir.
" Parker! " He finally shouted, on his last nerve and running out of patience. He wanted to study, but was it really worth it if it meant going through all this trouble?
Peter jostled, waking up suddenly with a startled yelp and a sharp movement that made the chandelier's gentle sway turn into a full rocking motion. Damian watched as the boy fumbled with the delicate crystal surrounding him, slipped, and tipped over the side of the metal support he had been reclining on.
Damian internally fought himself to ignore the feeling of dread when Peter Parker fell. He refused to even think about why he would have that reaction.
Peter did fall, but not for long. His arms had shot out on instinct, and two thin lines of webs made their mark on the ceiling above, causing Peter to stop short and hang a few feet below the chandelier, still a good eleven-or-so feet above the floor.
The youngest Wayne scoffed and crossed his arms, staring impatiently at the boy now hanging from the ceiling. When Peter slowly turned to face Damian, his eyes were wide from being suddenly woken up.
"... well? " Damian hissed, glaring at the teen. "Don't just hang there like an idiot-" he took a few steps back to allow Peter to drop to the floor at a safe distance. "And don't leave your webs up there. Alfred won't tolerate it, remember?"
Without waiting for a real response from Peter, he continued to speak, leaving the dangling teen with a slack jaw in continued surprise.
"You will meet me in my room the moment you finish cleaning up the mess that you obviously could not resist making." Damian sneered, giving Peter a look of disapproval. "We will continue to study. I refuse to have an illiterate living in the Manor, Parker."
With that, he turned on his heels and left the room, a satisfied feeling in his chest.
Peter was at a loss for words, watching the youngest Wayne son exit the ballroom. After he was sure that he heard the footsteps truly disappear down the hallway, he lowered himself gently to the ground, tugging on the lines of web to detach them from the ceiling.
He looked up, squinting at the ceiling to make sure that he had gotten everything. Damian was right, after all. Alfred would probably make Peter go up to clean it later, anyways. He might as well grab it all now.
But, upon seeing that it was… mostly clean, with only a few remnants of the sticky webs, he figured that it would be fine. After all, his webs did disintegrate over time. He had tested it in his room before going out as Spider-man. It took a few hours, depending on the amount, but they did go away on their own.
Peter wondered why he was only able to make his own webs now after traveling universes as he exited the room. Perhaps it had something to do with dormant genes that were reawakened upon the trip? It was a valid theory, and one that Peter would be looking into further.
He chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought, letting his hands fall into his sweatpants pockets while he walked toward the second story bedrooms. Looking into a theory as grand as that would be hard without a lab, and he doubted that Gotham Prep could give him the tools he would need.
Peter paused just outside of Damian's door, releasing the inside of his cheek from his teeth. An iron taste reached his tongue, and his heart stuttered. Was he bleeding ? He had never chewed his cheek so bad as to make it bleed before.
He immediately side tracked from his original plan, and found the nearest bathroom. Sliding inside on sock-covered feet, Peter pulled the door shut behind himself and leaned over the small marble sink counter to gaze into the mirror.
Unsettling green eyes gazed back, and he tried to ignore them in favor of checking on his mouth. Opening his jaw, he was surprised to not only see blood pooling from inside of his cheek, but also the source of the injury.
His teeth were sharp . Not all of them, of course. But there were three in a row on either side of his top jaw that were noticeably sharper than they should be. They lined up near perfectly with the small puncture marks in his flesh, and he winced.
Now was as good a time as ever to start breaking that habit, especially since this was just another physical change. Peter was getting tired of discovering new things about his body- it felt like a second puberty, but more dangerous.
Yeah, he really wanted to look into that dormant gene theory now.
As satisfied as he could be with discovering the source of blood, Peter took a few deep breaths, gripping the marble counter under his tight fingers. He took the next few moments to calm down the panic that had started creeping up his spine.
He was fine, he was not really injured , and this would heal . Breaking his chewing habit would be good for him, anyways.
So he steeled his nerves, forced a smile, and exited the bathroom, navigating back a few feet down the hall to land at Damian's door once more.
He raised his fist, but before he could knock, the door was already being pulled open by an impatiently waiting Damian on the other side. Peter dropped his shoulders, glancing behind Damian and around what he could see of the room, in case anything had changed. "Sorry for taking so long, I got distracted." he hummed, stepping inside when Damian pulled the door open further as a silent invitation.
The room seemed just as it had last time: dull gray and green decor, limited posters, and multiple mounted weapons across the walls. Peter simply passed the kid off for a collector with a rich father who was willing to indulge the hobby.
Though, the missing twin katanas sent a pang of concern through Peter. Were there unaccounted for weapons just laying around somewhere? Surely that was not safe.
"Trigonometry." Damian declared to the quiet room, grabbing Peter's attention. "I trust that you have taken this course already, yes?" the young boy raised a brow, waiting for his answer.
"..uh- yeah. That's why I came up last time to study with you." Peter acknowledged and nodded, feeling suddenly small. Being around Damian, while getting easier, still made the teen put up his guards. He did not want to risk getting attacked again for something he could not control.
Damian nodded, understanding Peter's words. He approached the single bookshelf in the bedroom, brushing his fingers over various, thickly-spined texts, before pulling out a heavy math textbook. It was listed to be at a college level.
The two sat down at a semi-comfortable distance on Damian's comfortable, red-rugged floor to look through the practice lessons and problems together.
Peter knew that Damian was advanced, but some of the equations in the book should have flown right over the kid's head. However, Peter continued to be proven wrong the longer that they sat together, both working out the same equations and comparing their answers on pieces of notebook paper that Damian had provided.
The only problem here was that Damian had Peter doing math with a pen . His teachers back at Midtown would be severely disappointed.
In light of that small issue, Peter managed to power through. The two youths did not exchange many words, only going back and forth with their answers and checking each other's work. Occasionally, one would ask the other about a method used, but otherwise, they were silent.
And slowly, that silence became more comfortable. Peter could not help the feeling that this interaction they held was natural, and good. It was progress .
"...hey, I had a question," Peter started, and Damian huffed in response, urging him to speak. "Not about trig." That made Damian paused, slowly glancing up from his own paper to eye Peter skeptically.
Peter smiled gently. "Dick mentioned something about you having dogs, and I was just wondering where they were? I haven't seen any running around, and there aren't any bowls anywhere."
Damian stared at Peter for a long few seconds, setting his jaw to avoid a biting insult toward the teen. He once again huffed through his nose, turning back to the equation at hand. "Titus and Ace are currently being cared for by a close friend of mine out of state."
"Oh yeah? I'm sorry to hear that, I'm sure you miss them."
"My emotional attachment to my pets is none of your concern."
"I've never had a pet." Peter admitted, and the room grew quiet after that sentiment. The statement hovered around the room, making the air thicken with tensity. Peter frowned, worried that starting a conversation had been the wrong decision.
But then Damian spoke up, passing his scratch paper to Peter for evaluation. "They are hard work, but I am more than capable of caring for my own animals. Your skills are surely adequate. Should you want a pet of your own, do not bother looking to gain the affections of one of mine." The youngest Wayne shot Peter a testy glare. "Simply ask my Father for your own."
Peter took a slow breath, calming his rapid-firing nerves. This was fine, he could work with this. He looked down at Damian's paper, following his route of problem-solving easily. It was the standard method.
"...well, you know a lot about animals, right?" Peter asked, not looking up from the paper. He could feel Damian's stare burning into the side of his head. "What would you suggest for a first-time pet owner?"
The room grew quiet once more. Peter pretended to continue checking the math problem, just to give Damian more time to answer. When the seconds stretched into minutes, however, he became anxious once more. He again worried that he had made the wrong decision.
"Bearded dragon." Damian replied in the stark silence, startling Peter out of the self-depreciating haze he had fallen into. Hesitantly, the teen glanced over to Damian.
The kid's features had softened considerably as he looked down at the textbook, avoiding looking at Peter. "...a bearded dragon would be good. They're small, and low maintenance. You're supposedly responsible, so should you want a pet, consider one of those."
Peter could not stop the smile creeping its way onto his face. His shoulders dropped, and he let out a breath he was unaware that he was holding. He passed back Damian's scratch paper with a nod, confirming his correct answers. "Thanks, Damian."
Dinner was a quiet affair. Now that Jason and Dick had returned to their respective apartments, and Stephanie had not visited in a while, the only remaining members of the house were the permanent residents of the Manor. And Peter.
Though, it was getting easier to join in on these family meals. Peter was becoming more and more comfortable as the days passed.
Alfred served the meals to the small gathering with a gentle smile on his face, placing plates of homemade burgers that smelled wonderfully of white cheddar and caramelized toppings. When Peter gave him a glance and grin of thanks, the older man merely nodded with a slight sigh.
The family indulged with light conversation. Peter mainly engaged with Tim and Duke, asking them both about the types of courses that Gotham Prep offered. He tried to stay as focused on them as possible as they all ate, avoiding the intense eyes of the man at the head of the table.
"Oh-" Tim cut off their conversation, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he grinned. "Bruce, tell Peter the thing."
The teen felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge when Bruce's gaze shifted to him. Hesitantly, he turned and gave the man a smile, curious. He refused to make eye contact.
Bruce Wayne seemed to hesitate as well, before shifting his posture with a quiet sigh. He became more open, letting his shoulders sink and his face soften.
"We'll be holding an event here at the Manor." Bruce explained, smiling just a bit. "We'll properly introduce you as a resident of the Manor then."
"We're trying to beat the press," Tim elaborated, sipping his drink that, once again, smelled suspiciously of coffee. "Since you've been going out more and more. Someone snapped a picture of you, Dick, and Jason at the library the other day. I found it on twitter."
Peter let himself process the information given, slowly nodding after a few seconds. The introduction of Peter as a Wayne Foster Son was something that he had been waiting for, figuring it was the next step in his integration. Bruce was the most famous man in New Jersey, after all. It only made sense.
"...okay, so I guess I'll be attending?" He looked at Bruce, finally meeting his eyes with genuine questions. "Do I need to prepare a speech or something? I uh, haven't been to a press event in a while, but I know a thing or two."
Bruce seemed surprised at Peter's immediate understanding, and glanced at Tim with slightly wider eyes than usual. "..no, there won't be any formal announcements from you. Unless, of course, you wanted to speak. I originally planned to introduce you myself." he admitted.
"You've done press events before?" Tim questioned with a raised brow, pulling out his phone almost immediately. Peter assumed he was looking up these events.
"...technically?" Peter winced, not liking the answer he was being pressured to provide. Obviously he had participated in press events before, but that was with Tony back in his own universe. These events and speeches likely never happened here. "Tony would take me with him sometimes."
Tim frowned as he scrolled through the internet, and Peter only wished he had brought Karen with him to dinner. Then maybe she could help him answer without sounding so suspicious.
Bruce nodded, mulling over Peter's words for a few moments.
"...can I say something?" Tim spoke up after a minute or two, turning his phone off with a small glare at the table. Peter's heart stuttered in his chest. Had he found something?
When no one at the table said anything, and all heads turned to focus on Tim, he took that as his sign to continue. "I don't like Tony Stark."
It felt like glass shattered in Peter's mind. "...what?"
"I don't like him." Tim repeated with a shrug, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "From what you've told us, he doesn't sound like the best guy. Rich, from New York, and lets a teenager run around in a Spider suit to play superheroes?" Peter did not miss the look that Tim and Bruce exchanged. He swallowed nervously, listening to Tim continue on.
"I get that you can take care of yourself, I don't doubt that. Your powers are impressive, Peter. You're probably a great superhero, but for an adult that you trust to let you blindly throw yourself into danger?" Tim's eyes met Peter's. "That's irresponsible. He doesn't seem like the type to have your best interests in mind."
The distinct sound of a foot kicking someone's shin from under the table rang out, but no one flinched or said anything to acknowledge it.
Peter could not stop the buzzing going up and down his spine, and he set his jaw tight as he tried to think of the politest way to respond to Tim.
"...that's really shitty, Tim." Peter spoke in a quiet voice, afraid that raising it any further would result in letting his frustration slip. " Really shitty. You've never even met the guy, and you talk like you know him personally."
"Do you ?" Tim pressed. "You said he cares about you, but where is he? Out of the country? What kind of mentor lets their student run around homeless in Gotham-"
Peter stood fast, his chair sliding back on the hardwood floor and leaving scuff marks. His hand slammed down on either side of his plate before he could even think to control himself, a wicked green crawling into his vision.
"It's not his fault that I'm here!-" he shouted, ignoring any former restraint that he had been using. "So stop suggesting that he's such a bad person!"
The room fell silent. No one moved from their chairs. The hustle and bustle from Alfred in the nearby kitchen had ceased. Green clawed at his vision and made his eyes itch.
Peter took a harsh breath, pulling away from the table and storming out of the dining room, a small portion of his dinner still left on his plate.
He needed Karen, and he needed to get some air . He was not sure what this green was, but it was making his head ache and his hands clench into tight fists.
Cassandra Cain slowly rose from her seat, carefully picking up her own plate, then rounded the table to grab Peter's.
"...Cassandra," Bruce warned quietly, watching the girl. "Give him a minute. I don't need another fight happening that involves him."
"...he's hungry." She responded quietly, looking down at his own unfinished plate. "...he needs to eat."
The head of the Wayne house sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. When he opened his eyes again, Cassandra and the two dishes were gone. He knew that convincing her would be pointless. He just hoped that she would be smart enough to treat Peter with caution.
Duke hesitantly stood up, peering across the table at where Peter previously sat, a small frown forming on his face as his brows creased together. "...uh, Bruce?" he said quietly, glancing over at the man. When he knew he had his attention, he continued. "...he broke the table."
"...what?"
Upon closer inspection, the deep gouges in the wood became blatantly obvious. They looked like cracks in the wood that splintered and ended in uneven spots. It took no genius to figure that Peter's fingers had carved lines into the wood when he pulled away from the table just minutes before.
Peter broke the table with his bare hands.
"Karen," Peter huffed, talking to the AI as he slipped the hearing aid into place. "We're going early tonight."
"Your heart rate has elevated dangerously, Peter. I suggest sitting down for a few minutes to breathe."
"Not happening." he said through gritted teeth, tugging off his sweatpants and eagerly replacing them with the black workout pants he wore underneath the Spider Armor. "I'll breathe when I get away from this fucking Manor."
"This Manor is the safest place in Gotham, Peter. I suggest sitting down-"
"I'm not sitting down, Karen!" he shouted, uncaring if anyone heard. He could just pass it off as talking to himself. They thought Tony was a bad person, they might as well think that Peter was crazy, too. He stalked through the room, pulling off his t-shirt and replacing it with the black long-sleeve one. When her voice silenced in his air, he knew that he had gotten his point across.
A knock on his door pulled him momentarily from his anger, and he groaned in frustration, shoving his face into his hands for a few moments, tightly pressing his palms against his eyes until the green in his vision was replaced by yellow spots.
He turned to the door, approaching and pulling it open with a glare at the ready. The girl on the other side paused, black eyes meeting his green ones with gentle caution. Peter froze, staring down at her. The tightness in his brows slowly released, and the tension in his shoulders dropped.
He had no reason to be mad at Cassandra. Reminding himself of that fact made the green at the edges of his sight retract a bit.
"...food." She said softly, holding out his plate. By now, the remaining piece of the burger had gone cold, waiting alone on the plate.
He looked down at the offered meal with a hesitation that seemed to keep coming back. "...I'm not hungry, Cass." he settled slightly, grip loosening up on the doorknob.
Cassandra took a good look at Peter's changed clothes and rolled her eyes. "...eat. Then patrol." She demanded softly, pressing the plate further until it was against Peter's chest. "...energy."
The teen boy frowned, hands coming up to take the plate from her. Satisfied, she carefully side-stepped around him and into his bedroom, taking a quiet seat on his perfectly made bed. Alfred must have come in and cleaned earlier in the day while he had been napping.
It was hard to remember that the Waynes knew of his vigilante status, and were okay with it. They treated him like it was a normal hobby. Then again, Damian did collect deadly weapons. Still, their casual treatment of him going on patrol almost made him falter.
"...Tim's an asshole." Peter grumbled, lowering himself onto his floor to finish his food. He got the feeling that, no matter how much he claimed to not be hungry, Cass would insist he eat before he left for the night. "What gives him the right to talk about people like that?"
Cass hummed quietly from his bed, taking a bite of her own remaining burger and thinking. Peter did not expect an answer, but then again, he had not expected her at all. She continued to surprise him.
"...you." she smiled sadly, tilting her head in his direction to look at him fondly. "...Tim's concerned. Your safety..."
"I'm plenty safe." he argued quietly, polishing off his meal with one final bite of the burger, chewing and swallowing before continuing. "I've got my powers, and I've got my experience. The suit is just a bonus."
"Your safety is disregarded by Stark." Cass clarified once Peter had stopped arguing his point. When he opened his mouth to retort, she held up a hand quick, effectively silencing him. "...he helped, but not enough."
Peter was left with nothing to say, awkwardly letting his gaze drift away from Cassandra and back down to his plate. They were all wrong, but he had no way to prove it to them without revealing his multiversal status.
So he tried his best to push down his frustration. "...you guys can have all the opinions you want, but I know the truth."
"Then tell us." she practically whispered, a curious gleam in her eyes. She was willing to listen.
Peter stood carefully, crossing the room to set the empty plate on his desk. He frowned, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds. "...I can't , Cass. I'm sorry." He refused to look back at her for a long few moments, instead focusing on the sight of Gotham in the distance out his window.
By the time he turned around, the quiet girl had left the room.
Barbara Gordon had just logged onto her computer for the night to start preparing for the patrols, only to be immediately joined by another voice in the Oracle comms.
"Good evening, Barbara Gordon."
It took everything in Barbara to not break her mouse under the tight grip of her hand. Karen had been only a bother since they learned of her existence, chiming into the Oracle comms to bother the Bats and ask seemingly pointless questions.
And the worst part? Barbara had yet to figure out Karen's systems. They were more advanced than anything she had ever seen before, and she was dying to pick them apart to see how the AI really functioned, down to a level of ones and zeroes.
"Hi, Karen." The red-head sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as she spoke into the microphone of her gaming headset. Practical and convenient for vigilante work. Plus, Stephanie had once said it made her look cool. "Why aren't you with Spider-man?"
"I am. I can talk in more than one place, Barbara Gordon."
"I thought I told you to cut the full name stuff? It's creepy, and we aren't supposed to use real names over the Oracle systems."
"My mistake, Oracle."
Karen's quickness to correct herself made Barbara blink down at her screen. The AI, while usually inconvenient, was at the very least respectful. Sure, sometimes her tone was amused in the most inappropriate situations, but she left no room for argument when it came to respect.
You give, you get. Barbara tucked that mentality away, figuring she would have to use it whenever the AI decided to listen in.
"Is Spider-man going out again tonight?" Barbara asked, forcing her tone to be casual as she started loading up the various security cameras around Gotham.
"Yes, despite my advising against it. He is not in the correct state of mind."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Babs snorted, rolling her eyes. "Was there an argument at the Manor, or something?"
"I am unsure. Spider-man has neglected to wear me for a majority of the day. I am unaware of the events that took place, but his elevated heart rate and rising temper are only cause for concern."
The woman hummed in understanding, glancing quickly at the time. It was just after eight p.m. The Bats would not realistically be out for another hour or two. Jason was a different story, though. His schedule was unpredictable, so he could appear at any moment. She had yet to learn a schedule from Peter, but considering he had only been out for one night so far, she lacked the data required.
"...are you able to show me Spider-man's vitals?" Barbara asked, curious as to the extent of Karen's abilities. "It could be useful in case he gets into trouble, especially since it's clear that something happened today."
The silence from Karen warned Barbara that she had maybe made a mistake, but there was no way that she planned on apologizing. Asking questions should never be something to be sorry about.
After five minutes of silence between the two, Barbara dropped the hope from her mind and returned her focus to pulling together mission goals for the night. Red Robin and Spoiler would be running recon on a recent Riddler sighting. Batman and Robin would run their usual patrol route a few times, making laps around the city and hovering over crime hot-spots for longer. Black Bat's goal for the night would be to tail Spider-man.
When Barbara heard about the car chase that Spider-man had stopped, and Red Hood's interference on the tail end, she could have thrown something out of frustration.
Sure, she had asked someone to tail Peter, but for Jason to be so ready to volunteer, and then interfere with the event… It frustrated Barbara to no end.
Barbara blinked away the memory, pausing when a new window opened on one of her many monitors. It was a simple black and red box with a few lines and medical statistics that changed every few seconds displayed.
A smile slowly fell onto her face. Peter's vitals. So she is cooperating.
"...Thanks, Karen." Barbara hummed. "...I'll let you see everyone elses when they all come online later."
"The sentiment is appreciated, though unnecessary. I trust that you can regulate your vigilante's vitals."
That almost felt like a compliment, and Barbara could not help the swell of pride in her chest. It had been some form of acknowledgement toward her hard work behind the scenes for the Bats, and it came from something so sophisticated.
"Cool, the offer still stands, though." She assured. "Does Spider-man have a plan for tonight?"
"Not that I know of. I have encouraged him to begin building a patrol routine, though. I have looked through your own patrol routines as logged in the Batcomputer and will be advising him to avoid your routes. This will maximize overall ground covered for everyone."
Barbara blinked. "...that's pretty smart." she nodded slowly. "Don't let him stray too far, though. If something happens, surely you'd like for someone to be close enough to help."
"I have accounted for this already."
"Cool." That seemed to be Barbara's favorite word for the night. It felt like the only appropriate way to respond to Karen. She was cool. Frustrating, but cool, just like the rest of the Bats.
That thought made Barbara roll her eyes, unable to help the smile on her face. Peter and Karen were fitting right in, even if Peter did not realize it.
Yet, at least.
She got the feeling that the Wayne Family Secret would not be a secret for much longer.
After ten minutes of shared silence between the two, Barbara pulled up her digital map of Gotham. Over the course of the night, the trackers that the Bats and Birds used would appear on the screen, allowing Barbara to effectively navigate them through the city and toward anything urgent.
She was surprised to see a symbol already on the screen, though. It was not one that she recognized, either. Each member of the vigilante family had a specific color and symbol to differentiate their tracker from everyone elses.
For example, Stephanie's tracker would display as a purple blinking dot on the screen. Damian's would be a small green star, and Tim's would be a slightly larger, red star. Whenever Dick was in town, his tracker displayed as a blue blinking dot, alongside Jason's red blinking dot. Cassandra's tracker would show up as a small yellow star, and Duke's as a blinking yellow dot. Bruce himself had a tracker that was quite literally the bat symbol.
But this tracker symbol was an upside down red triangle with a yellow outline. It moved quickly throughout Gotham, but did not stick to main roads. It went on top of buildings, almost as if going straight through them.
Or swinging over them.
"...is that Spider-man?"
"I told you that I have accounted for him moving. Should anything happen to him, you will have his location to send recovery."
That feeling of pride engulfed Barbara's chest once more, and her smile relaxed. Okay, maybe Karen was not all that bad . She was certainly easier to work with now. Barbara thought a bit about that give respect, get respect mentality that the AI seemingly worked with.
Whoever Tony Stark really was, he had created the pinnacle of artificial intelligence. She was really looking forward to eventually meeting the guy, regardless of if he was a villain or not.
Barbara cracked her knuckles and traced Karen's signal, humming to herself as she did so. Now that she was able to ping directly onto Karen's core signal, that being Peter's hearing aid, she was able to track every trace of the AI on the planet.
On a separate window, a list of various coordinates popped up in red writing. Upon converting the coordinates to a digital map, small red dots appeared, showing every major trace of Karen's AI.
There was the quickly moving dot, which was obviously Peter. Two dots sat still in the Manor, and she had to assume that was Peter's cellphone and the Batcomputer. A dot sat alone in Barbara's apartment complex, showing that Karen had made herself right at home amongst Barbara's technology.
But that was not what really caught her attention, no. Those were all normal places for Karen to be pinging to. The unusual one was a small red dot just off the coast of Gotham's Harbor, fully surrounded by the murky water.
Part of Karen had been abandoned in the harbor.