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Chapter Text

When Peter was five years old, his Uncle Ben had come to visit his parents’ home looking like he had walked through a hurricane. His hair was standing in all sorts of angles, his good suit was soaked in what Peter could only describe as mop water infused with the smell of dog piss and poop, and his tie looked like it was fed through a paper shredder before it was pulled back out. His pants and shoes weren’t spared either– if the charcoal black stains on the knees of his pants and how the soles of his shoes flopped like tongues whenever his uncle would lift his feet didn’t make that obvious enough.

Parker luck, his uncle had coined the term. It’s Murphy’s law, but for the men in the Parker family. It will stay quiet for months and nothing will be amiss. They will have peaceful days, and they’ll eventually forget about it. Then like a dam had opened up, all the bad luck that had accumulated hit all at once.

Peter believes today was his Parker luck day.

“Our universe is on the verge of collapse, Peter! I can’t stop this with the same spell anymore,” Stephen explained pointedly, visibly struggling to hold the gaping tears in the sky. In the distance, other sorcerers were casting same binding spell that he had, but all they were doing was putting a proverbial bandage on the problem. It eased the stress of having to hold their universe together on Stephen, and it allowed him a moment to think of a solution– any that wasn’t the cruelest thing you could do to a kid, because it was the only solution he could think of.

“Al-alright, what do you suggest we do? Can–maybe,” Stephen watched as a resolute expression washed over the kid in front of him, “They’re here because of me, right? Because I’m Peter Parker? Then make everyone forget I exist. Make it so no one knows who Peter Parker is.”

Stephen had to bite back a scoff, “I’m sorry, Peter, but even making everyone forget you exist won’t be enough. Your very existence is the problem now. To fix this, we need to– I will need to erase you.”

“What-what? What do you–”

“I’m sorry, Peter. If I had more time, maybe I could find another solution, but at our current state, all I could do, is make it so you never existed in our universe.”

“Never exist? You mean, I-I’ll die? Again?” Peter’s voice trembled.

“I’m-I’m sorry, kid–” but at that moment, an idea struck Stephen. It would be reckless, and there was no guarantee it will work, if it would succeed– it’s not exactly a spell he can practice casting willy-nilly, but if it does work, then Peter wouldn’t need to die, he can live even if it’s not in this universe.

“You won’t have to. I can send you to a different universe, one where Peter Parker– where Spider-Man has never existed. You won’t have to die, you won’t exist here anymore, but you can still live.” Stephen chose to omit how low the success rate was. He wanted to give the kid hope.

Ironic that the multiverse decided then to rear its ugly head and bite back, ripping the fractures in the sky bigger. Sorcerers from all over the globe simultaneously reinforced their spell– and Stephen had almost done the same, but he knew if he did, he wouldn’t have enough time to cast the transmigration spell.

“I have to do the spell now!” Stephen apologised as he performed the somatic components of the spell. Runes materialised around the sorcerer and vigilante, glowing bright like they can burn at a touch.

“Wait– can-can’t I say goodbye first?! Ned and MJ-sir–”

“We don’t have much time, kid!” The runes circled around the teenage vigilante, faster and faster until they were no different than the rims of a sorcerers’ portal. Peter’s spider-sense was ringing alarm bells in his head, and he could feel something was happening to his body, something achingly familiar.

Peter’s breath hitched as he saw the rifts try to tear bigger in between the runes circling him, but in the corner of his eye, he saw an expression that was out of place in the moment. He saw Stephen’s face relax in relief, and he gave Peter a comforting smile.

“Live a good life, Peter.”

Peter blinked as he watched his hands materialise from dust in front of him, much like the time on Titan, when he blipped back after five years. It was the familiar sensation he felt– getting dusted. Peter had to bite back the laugh brewing at the back of his throat.

If I had a nickel for every time I get dusted out of existence and back, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t much but it’s weird that it happened twice.

Peter let his hands drop to his side before attempting to inhale air. He promptly stopped that attempt as soon as he felt a sharp pang on either of his sides, and he tasted the putrid smell of the alley on his tongue. Instead, he took short and sharp gasps of air through his mouth, and used his arms to drag his body towards the nearby wall and forced himself to lean back. Now that he had time to let the adrenaline wear off, he was beginning to feel everything hurting in his body. A broken rib or three, maybe a fracture in his arm. His back is most certainly bruising really bad. Still, nothing a day or two of rest and fast healing won’t fix.

What he wouldn’t do to go home to May and have her smother him with her worry, get buried in layers of blankets, and hold a cup of hot chocolate. But he can’t do that. He can’t go home, he can’t see May anymore, or Ned, or MJ.

…danger lurking…

Peter winced as his spider-sense warned him of nearby danger from, well, everywhere. New York gave him a similar ever-lurking tingling sensation– he’d expected it– but this place, this city gave off a sharper prickling, like he should expect to be attacked at every corner.

Not concerning, at all, Peter chuckled in his mind, where the hell is this place? Am I still in New York?

Peter reached for his mask and pulled it over his face to see the heads-up display inside.

「Location unavailable.」

「Network unavailable. Stark Industries satellites not found. Connect to compatible satellites as compromise.」

「Sensors damaged. Utility at 24%.」

「Suit power at 14%. Heating, functional. Nano-tech, functional.」

“That's… not great. But not too bad.” Peter huffed as he pulled his mask back off.

I'll have to get information the old-fashioned way, and I'll need to find somewhere I can fix my suit, Peter thought. At least the heating still works.

It was a small silver-lining. If he didn’t have his suit on, he would be feeling the cold tenfold, but that also meant he couldn’t take it off. Stephen said he would be sent to a universe with no Spider-Man– he may very well be in a universe with no heroes or vigilantes, but wearing a bright red, blue, and gold spandex suit while roaming the streets might not be a good idea.

“Alright, Parker. Time to get a move-on.” Peter gritted his teeth as he forced himself up. He looked around, trying to decide which direction to head to. His decision was made for him when one direction made his spider-sense scream No! And he made his way to the other direction.

He was fortunate enough to find a discarded brown coat on a nearby dumpster to hide his suit underneath. It had burn marks at the bottom, and holes here and there, but it will suffice.

Peter stopped in his tracks the moment he walked out of the alley, and he was met by the unique cityscape. Alongside the sleek, modern glass and steel skyscrapers were gargoyles and other sorts of gothic architecture. You could be looking at one part of the street that looked stuck in the 1800s, then look slightly to the side and see something more 21st Century appropriate.

“Am I… even still in America?” Peter asked himself. He’ll figure it out soon enough, if he can find a public library. He can access the Internet there and figure out where he really was.

Luckily for him– maybe the first time that day– he wasn’t that far from one. It was a block away, and he could see the the bold letters on the building GOTHAM CITY PUBLIC LIBRARY.

Gotham… not a city I’m familiar with, Peter thought to himself as he made his way to the building, passing a few people who had the distinct scent of gunpowder on them– concerning, or people who had just the scent of a gun on them.

Peter stumbled as he gave the library door a good push. He held onto the door handle, treating it like an anchor, and almost breaking it off before remembering his strength. He shook his head to ward off the creeping fog in his mind.

Focus, Parker. Rest later. He told himself.

Peter looked around, seeing nobody in the immediate distance. The clock on the wall behind the reception desk told Peter it was 9:15pm, so it wasn’t unexpected. He felt the cold bite from behind him, and he instinctively stepped further into the building, letting the door swing close by itself. His suit must’ve gone to power-saving mode if he was starting to feel that. It was good timing that he found this place.

He was glad the reception area was abandoned when he came in, though he could hear a voice coming from the other side of the wall with the clock. He planned to be in and out of there anyway, he just wanted to look up information.

He made his way to the nearby computers and did a double-take when he saw they still had monitors that took up half the tablespace. He shook away the incredulous look he probably had and sat down, instead, hoping they even connected to the Internet.

It took long for the ancient thing to boot up, way too long for Peter’s liking. He wanted to be gone before the receptionist came back, and he kept looking back at the reception desk while waiting. Fortunately, it seemed like whoever was on shift was busy on a call with someone, and might have even been playing an online game? Peter could hear distinct commands of where to go and message relaying from the office behind the reception, but he didn’t pay much attention to what was being said, only listening so he’d know if the librarian would come out anytime soon.

Peter was just relieved when the computer finally booted up. It asked for a library card number to log-in, but Peter didn't need that. Instead, he guided the nano-tech that Doc Ock embedded into his suit into the computer tower, letting it settle. And within a few seconds, the monitor displayed a welcome message.

「Device Connected. Bypassing Authentication.」

Peter’s eyes narrowed when given the choice of programs to use. He didn’t recognize any of them.

Of course. Peter let out a sigh. What part of different universe did he not understand? There were only three icons on the desktop, and he clicked on one that looked the most likely to be a browser– Horizon. It did open up to a search engine, thankfully. Peter started typing the important stuff.

Gotham City. Gotham is a city in New Jersey, USA. Home to the Justice League founder and member, Batman, and his numerous Robins over the years. Dubbed the “Crime Capital of America,” it is also home to rogues like the Joker, Scarecrow, Two-Face, and others…

“Okay…” Peter breathed out in disbelief. Good news was he’s still in America. Bad news, he somehow ended somewhere so bad it gained the title “Crime Capital of America!” That explains the intense prickling his spider-sense was giving him. Peter has never heard of Gotham before, or the Justice League, or Batman, so if he didn’t believe he was in a different universe before, he definitely did now.

He briefly looked up the rest of the names that interested him. The gist of it is that the Justice League is this universe’s Avengers. Batman is the resident protector of the city, leading his own team of vigilantes. Peter wasn’t surprised they would have so many, considering the ridiculous crime rate, and frankly, abhorrent list of rogues they had. He only read a few articles about some of the rogues, and he felt like he was going to get a headache– or it was just making his already-existing headache worse.

He’d have to do more research on the rogues and the Justice League another time. At the moment, he was more interested in another pillar of Gotham. Bruce Wayne. A local billionaire celebrity and philanthropist. He owns Wayne Enterprises and its branch Wayne Industries. No doubt, if Peter wanted to fix his suit, everything he'd need would be in their labs. He can even look into connecting his suit to Wayne's satellites. The guy probably won’t mind, right? He’s not planning to do it for evil purposes. If it was Mr. Stark, he’d be encouraging Peter, if only to compare the two companies’ tech.

“Huh.” Peter couldn’t help but be reminded of Mr. Stark. If he’d wanted to fix or work on his suit, he could just walk into the building and do his business. He can’t do that anymore. He’s no longer in his universe, he doesn’t even exist in his own universe anymore. His whole existence, erased, because of what Beck did. Because of Mysterio. Because of Peter’s own choices.

Stark Industries. No results.

Iron Man. No results.

Tony Stark. No results.

Avengers. No results.

Spider-Man. No results.

Peter Parker. No results.

May Parker. No results.

Stephen did say he has never existed in this universe. He can accept that, but Peter felt a pang in his chest as it hit him that everything he’s ever known also did not exist here. He’s also relieved, because that meant he wouldn’t be tempted to go to the people he would’ve known in his home universe and try to make things like they were. He wouldn’t need to put people around him in danger.

Peter leaned back on his chair as much as he could, craning his head back to look at the ceiling. At least now he knows what to do the next day. And once he has suit 100% operational, he'll be able to go out as Spider-Man again. He'll have to find somewhere to squat for the night, but if it wasn’t going to be a long-term thing, it shouldn’t be too hard to find one.

He’ll build his new life, one step at a time. “Live a good life, Peter.” Stephen had told him.

…looking nearby…

Peter straightened his posture and looked over to the receptionist desk, where he saw a young woman with ginger red hair with green eyes looking at him. He didn’t realise how quieter it had gotten, she must’ve finished her call and game already.

“Hi,” she greeted Peter with a kind and warm tone, “I didn’t notice you come in earlier.” 

Peter just waved at her weakly and greeted her, “Good evening, miss. Um, I’m-I’m almost done.” He looked back at the computer and closed the Horizon program. Since his nano-tech bypassed the security, he wouldn’t be leaving any records that he'd used the computer. He just had to make sure it crawled back to him before the older woman saw.

“You didn’t need to rush. I wouldn’t have minded waiting an extra ten minutes if you weren’t done yet. We barely have visitors as it is. It’s nice to see someone taking advantage of public resources.” She chuckled, but as she got closer to Peter, her eyes widened.

“Oh, no no no.” Peter waved his hands in front of him apologetically. “It’s already very late anyways. It’s what, like–” he looked back at the screen for the time, and only then he realised the date– specifically, the year. 2015.

Peter shook away the shock in his mind. He just experienced multiversal travel, time travel isn’t that out of the question.

“It’s 9:55,” the librarian answered as she looked at her own watch. “Kid, are you okay? Do you need a first aid kit? I can help you clean your wounds and bandage them. You look… terrible.”

“No, no need for that. I feel fine, really, I’m great.” Peter huffed.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. 100%.”

She narrowed her eyes, then shook her head, “Kid, you do know there’s a curfew for minors, right? You’re supposed to be home by 8pm.”

“Hm?” Peter looked at her in surprise, “A curfew? Uh, I-I didn’t know that. I’m kind of, just moved here, I guess. And I’m, I’m eighteen so, you know. Doesn’t apply to me.” Peter tried to playfully shrug it off while he wrapped his coat tightly around him, trying to make sure she doesn’t see his suit under it. And sure, he exaggerated his age a bit. He’s turning seventeen soon, but that’s close to eighteen.

She raised a brow at him. “Right, and I’m in my 50s. Kid, you don’t look older than 15. And you moved to Gotham?”

“Yes, ma’am, sure did. And I’m eighteen.” Peter made sure to reiterate his age, but it ended up backfiring on him anyways.

“Eighteen-year olds are still bound by the curfew.” She bluntly told him with narrowed eyes.

“Oh,” Peter felt his face flush a shade of red, and he couldn’t help but chuckle too as Barbara let out a chuckle.

“You still haven’t told me your name, kid. Or would you prefer I keep calling you kid?” Barbara joked as she crossed her arms in front of him. Peter couldn’t stop a half-smile forming on his face. “My name is Barbara, but you can call me Babs.”

“My name is Peter, Ms. Barbara, nice to meet you,” he introduced himself.

“Babs is fine, Peter. No need for the miss.”

“No way, Ms. Barbara, my aunt would kill me if I don’t use proper honourifics. Best I can do is Ms. Babs.” Peter gave a proud smile.

“I’ll take it,” Barbara shrugged. Peter nodded along, but stopped as the older woman’s face dropped her smile and put on an inquisitive face.

“So why did you move to Gotham? You didn’t move here alone, did you? Do you live with a parent? A guardian?”

Peter froze at the questioning. If she didn’t believe he was actually eighteen, will she call CPS on him? If she did, it’s not like they can just look him up on government databases– Stephen had said Peter Parker did not exist in this universe, they would’ve turned up with nothing. And they’ll know something was wrong.

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter looked away as he answered, realising he had stayed silent too long, “Um, there was a- my aunt is, um, I used to live with her, but she’s– there was an accident, so I– so I had to move in with a family friend, and now, I’m here.”

“Oh,” Barbara blurted as she realised what Peter was implying, “I’m so sorry about your aunt.”

“It’s, it’s alright, she’s- she’s,” Peter forced out while fighting the lump in his throat. Peter could see Barbara’s hands hover slightly at the corner of his eyes, probably debating whether to give him a comforting hand or not.

“What’s your guardian’s name?” Barbara asked, “Do they know you’re not at home?”

Peter froze again, and he fought the urge to bite the inside of his cheeks. He couldn’t say May’s name, he’d already blurted out that she’s– and he didn’t want to act like she’s not his family and that she’s not– should he say Mr. Stark’s name? But it’s the same problem again, he didn’t want to act like Mr. Stark was still alive when he’s not.

“Stephen,” Peter blurted out Doctor Strange’s name, “His name is Stephen. And I kind of snuck out, so he doesn’t know.”

Barbara let out a hum as she looked Peter up and down– did she notice his suit somehow– but then she fished out her phone from her pocket, “Do you know his phone number? I can call him for you if you don’t have a phone. You really need to get home. It’s too dangerous out in the streets.”

“Huh? N-no, no need. He’s still at work. And I haven’t memorised his phone number yet. I-I only live a few blocks down, shouldn’t take ten minutes if I run real fast.” Peter lied through his teeth.

Barbara furrowed her brows, “Where do you live? I can call a cab for you, Peter.”

“I-I haven’t really memorised the address, new place and all. But-but I do know where it is. I can find my way home fine, really.” Peter said as he stood from his seat, and slowly backed away from Barbara. “Thanks for letting me use the computers, Ms. Babs. I’ll head on out, curfew and all.”

“Have a good night, Ms. Babs! Have a safe trip home too!” Peter’s instinct was to run to the door and get out as soon as possible, but his body betrayed him. Peter let out a loud yelp, and he instinctively raised his arms to his sides, feeling the sharp pangs dig onto his torso.

“Peter?”

“Still fine, Ms. Babs.” Peter said in the brightest tone, brushing off her concern and never looking away from the exit. He recomposed himself again, and ran out the door.

Barbara was left looking dumbfounded. The way the kid had reacted, she had no doubts he didn't have terrible injuries under his coat. She pulled up a group chat on her phone.

BATCHAT

Babs: B and Dick still out tonight?

Timmy: Yeah, B and Dick are still out, everyone’s heading back to the cave like they last reported

Timmy: Why?

Babs: can you radio them and ask if they can check on this kid? he’s maybe 13-15, curly brown hair, brown eyes wearing a worn-out tan coat way too thin for the weather, he just ran out of the library

Timmy: What’s the deal with the kid?

Babs: he said he just moved to Gotham, says he’s living with a family friend

Babs: this kid came in with his face covered in bruises and cuts, and when he tried to leave, he reached for his ribs and sounded in pain

Babs: was also very skittish when I asked about his guardian, could be a run away, could be abused, I just want someone to check up on him, make sure he doesn’t get into more trouble

Timmy: Did he look like he was hiding in the library?

Babs: he was doing something on one of the computers

Babs: i have to check what he was doing, then I’ll get into contact with B and Dick

Timmy: Okay, Dick is the closest to you, I’ll let him know in the meanwhile to check on the kid

Timmy: Dick says he’s on the way

Peter shoulders trembled as he blew hot air to his hands and rubbed them together. He opted to turn off the heating on his suit at the moment in order to conserve power. He’ll need his nano-tech to hack into the security at Wayne Industries the next day so he couldn’t afford to have it die on him beforehand. It will mean having to suffer the cold and face his unfortunate lack of thermoregulation, but he hopes finding shelter should mitigate that problem.

After a while of walking, Peter began to see more run-down buildings. Windows and doors boarded up and yellow condemned tape covered some of them. He adjusted his hearing’s sensitivity, and he was able to tell most of the buildings didn’t even have running water or working electricity. Yet despite fitting the definition for ‘neglected and abandoned,’ these buildings were everything but. Most of them already hosted a person, or five– sometimes, one on each floor. Peter huffed. With his current progress, he won’t be find somewhere to sleep anytime soon. He needed a change of plans.

Peter looked up to the rooftops. If the buildings haven’t received water from the city in months, he should be able to find a dried up water tank to crash in.

watching

Peter turned his head and looked up where his spider-sense told him someone was watching him. He narrowed his eyes at the dark figure perching at the ledge, then he realised who he was looking at and immediately turned back around and avoided the figure’s gaze. A tall figure in a black and blue suit wearing a domino mask– definitely sounds like a vigilante, one of Gotham’s many.

How long have they been there? Am I being tailed? Couldn’t be, I haven’t committed a crime–yet–but there’s no way for them to know I would be sneaking into Wayne Industries. I’m not even planning to steal anything, just borrow a few tools and recharge my suit! Peter reasoned to himself. It must be a coincidence. I just happened to be where they’re going on a patrol!

“The kid just looked straight at me.” Peter heard the figure whisper to himself. “Did O find any info on this kid yet?”

Peter felt his blood run cold. He had to stop himself from looking back at the vigilante. Why… why are they trying to find information on me? I’ve only been here a few hours, why am I being targeted by vigilantes? Is it my suit? Did they see it under the coat? Did they think I’m a threat?

Should I confront the guy? Wait, no– that’s… reckless. I need to conserve power. Besides, if I do anything non-civilian-like, then I’d be painting a bigger target on myself!

Then realisation struck him. It’s very non-civilian-like to sense a vigilante hiding in the shadows, isn’t it? Ughh, if I was him, I’d definitely be freaked out!

Peter continued walking, acting like he hadn’t just made eye contact with the vigilante on the roofs, but remaining aware of the latter’s location. Meanwhile, he trusted his spider-sense to lead him away from danger, and his heightened hearing to locate the dried-up water tank he was looking for. Multitasking like this was really pulling on his remaining energy, which was already preoccupied with healing his injuries from the beginning.

Finally, it seemed like Peter’s luck turned around, because he found a dried-up water tank not too far from him. He just needed to lose the vigilante on his tail.

Surely, there are people needing saving somewhere, right?!

Peter shook the thought out of his head, he was wishing there would be someone in trouble out there just so he could get rid of the persistent vigilante behind him. Ben and May would be very disappointed in him. I need to breathe fresh air, he thought. He didn’t forget he was already outside– the cold wouldn’t let him, but the rancid and chemical smell of Gotham’s air was starting to get to him.

Peter looked around trying to find a fire escape. It was as good a time to get to higher ground after his spider-sense had warned him that continuing on his path was a very very bad idea.

watching

Yeah, yeah, watching. What exactly is there to watch? The guy hasn’t busted me for anything yet, and I don’t exactly have anywhere I could be leading him to.

Peter found a fire escape that he could reasonably reach without needing to rely on his superhuman-spider abilities, and as a bonus, his spider-sense wasn’t warning him of any danger. He climbed up at a reasonable pace, and he noted that the vigilante hadn’t moved from his location since Peter decided to get to the roof.

Peter’s whole body trembled as the cold wind met him on the top. Maybe turning on his suit’s heating would be fine, if it was only for a minute or five. He even made sure to set a timer.

Then his stomach growled. Damn it.

In the time that he’d arrive in this universe, he was too busy trying to find information, trying to find shelter, and trying to keep tabs on the vigilante on his tail– that he’d completely neglected to find something to eat. Hell, even before he ended up in Gotham, he’d been too busy fighting and trying to cure his villains from other universes, trying not to die, and trying–and almost failing–to save his universe!

Peter wasn’t sure why realising he was hungry was the last straw, but the dam that was holding back all his feelings finally broke. He couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face nor hold back the sob in the back of his throat. He’d lost his family and friends–his own universe– in the same night. He can never return even if he found a way to. His existence would destroy his universe, not just his name, not just knowing who he was. And maybe it was better this way. Ned and MJ can live normal lives, and his world probably wouldn’t miss Spider-man– they had the Avengers to protect them, after all. They don’t even want him anymore. They called him a menace, public enemy #1– everywhere he goes, he’s followed by calamity.

Peter’s knees buckled under the weight of the reminder that he can never go back, that his universe may very well be better without him. Ned, MJ–they’re safer without him. If he was never there, maybe May would have never died. He had tried to stay positive, try to look forward and focus on laying down the foundation for his new life– but he couldn’t pretend like nothing happened forever.

He missed May, he missed Ned, he missed MJ– he missed his life before Mysterio revealed his identity to the world. He missed home.

Peter hadn’t realised that he was on his knees and crying to the palms of his hands, and he hadn’t realised that the vigilante on his tail had closed the distance between them until his spider-sense alerted him–

nearby

–and he’d heard the gentle footfall by the roof’s ledge. Peter’s head snapped up and he was face-to-face with the vigilante he was trying to pretend to have not noticed. Peter stayed still in the presence of the older man, like that would somehow make the latter believe he wasn’t there.

“Hey,” the black-and-blue vigilante greeted in a soft and gentle voice, keeping his arms in the air likely to show Peter he was no threat. “You okay, kid?”

Peter furrowed his brows at the vigilante, and his eyes narrowed at the guy.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Peter had decided to answer as he roughly wiped the tears off his face with the back of his hands, and standing back up. I need to get away from this guy, Peter decided as he shook his head.

“Wait, wait, kid– just talk to me, okay?” The vigilante told Peter in a panicked voice as Peter looked at a farther ledge. Something in the man’s tone made Peter double-take, and his next words did not do well to stop Peter from raising a brow at him.

“Let’s… stay away from the ledge, shall we? Please?”

Peter looked at the man incredulously. “Did you just think I was going to jump? I wasn’t going to jump, sir.”

“I, I didn’t think you were– what were you going to do?”

“I don’t know, just run away? I wasn’t going to jump,” Peter clarified to the man. “I just, you caught me in a very vulnerable moment, sir, and I didn’t want to stay and make this more awkward as it is.”

Now that Peter has the chance to look at the man from nearby, he noted how the man had an even tan–something that Peter almost missed, if not for the light from a nearby street light. Part of his face, from the top of his brows to his cheekbones and to the tip of his nose, was covered by his mask. He had wavy black hair that was styled back to stay out of his face, and he had a build similar to Captain America or Black Panther.

The vigilante stayed quiet for a moment, then he offered Peter, “Would you like to talk about it? What’s on your mind?”

“I don–” Peter wanted to reject, but he was reminded of all the times that he was the one offering to lend an ear to a kid that he finds alone and obviously struggling with something. He’d feel like a hypocrite if he refused this guy and felt offended.

“I, I guess my whole world just got turned around within a few hours! I had friends–good friends! I had my best friend and my girlfriend. We were ready to take on the world, face anything the world would throw at us together. I had my aunt, I had my family! But then this guy just had to make everything implode– everything just fell apart, every bit of my life was picked apart and– and now, I’m stuck in this godforsaken city, and I can’t go back home, because I don't have anything!” Peter spouted, pacing back and forth, and throwing his hands out as he blurted everything out to this vigilante. He’d likely be sharing protecting this city with this man in the future, but at that moment, he was talking to him as Peter Parker, not Spider-man.

“I want to get my old life back,” Peter huffed before ultimately falling on his butt and sitting criss-cross on the floor.

“You don’t think Batman and the Justice League has something like a time machine, do you?” Peter joked, knowing fully well that even if they did, he couldn’t even use it since he won’t be in his universe anyways.

The vigilante was wide-eyed for a moment, but when it looked like the joke finally landed, he let out small chuckle and sat criss-cross on the floor too across Peter.

“They probably have one somewhere, but they usually call on the Speedsters for time travel.”

“Speedsters?” Peter chuckled at the nickname. “They must be able to run impossibly fast if they’re able to break the laws of the universe by themselves. They’d be gods if they can do that anytime they want… you think I can get their number? Just need them to go back and stop me from doing dumb stuff.”

“They try not to do it much as a rule. Time travel can be fickle, they said.” The vigilante shrugged.

Peter sighed. “So I really am out of luck.”

“Why are you even out here in this hour? Don’t you know there’s a curfew?” Peter winced at the vigilante’s reminder.

“Yeah, I had no idea there was a curfew. Just got here in the city. You’re the second person to tell me about it, actually.”

“What about your guardian? Did they not tell you about it?”

Peter narrowed his eyes. He hasn’t mentioned having a guardian, he only told the lie to one other person, the only other person he’s met in the city. “Why did you assume I have a guardian? You didn’t assume I have parents?”

“Oh– you mentioned your aunt earlier, you didn’t mention a mom or dad, so I assumed you moved to the city with a different relative. Where is your guardian? Do they know you’re out in the city at this hour?”

“Ah, he’s, my Uncle Stephen.” Peter avoided the vigilante’s gaze as he reused the lie. “He works night shift, so he wouldn’t have known I was out. I'm really sorry, sir. I won't break the curfew after this.”

“I see. So is your uncle good to you? Is he treating you good since you came under his care?”

“Y-yeah, of course he is–” And it wasn’t a lie. Stephen has treated him right in the time he’s known the sorcerer. “He brought me here as a service after I lost everything. If he hadn’t, I’d probably…” Peter tensed at the thought. He’d be dead, and no one would have known he was dead– “well, I wouldn’t be here in Gotham, definitely.”

Realisation struck Peter. “Why are you asking how he’s treating me?”

“Oh, I’m not trying to accuse him of anything, just making sure,” the vigilante defended, and Peter narrowed his eyes at the vigilante before looking down at the coat he’d grabbed from a dumpster– and like if he could see through clothing, the nasty bruises under his suit.

“Stephen didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you thought,” Peter explained. “I don’t think the guy’s even allowed to harm another person,” non-genocidal person at least, unlike Thanos and his goons– they were fair play– “taking the hippocratic oath and all that.”

“So he’s a doctor?” The vigilante sounded interested, and Peter realised his mistake. They were already trying to find–non-existent–information about him, and now he’s giving them all this info that would certainly lead them to figuring out he’s not supposed to exist.

“I think so? He says a bunch of medical jargon, so I just assumed he took the oath.” Peter shrugged, and hoped their suspicion died with that.

The vigilante slowly nodded. “Alright then, so how'd you get your injuries?”

“I just… fell down some stairs.” Peter cursed himself for the lame response. Really, Parker? You couldn’t think of a better answer!

“Stairs.” The vigilante raised an eyebrow. “With those injuries?”

“It was… a very long flight of stairs.” Peter nodded proudly at his answer, all while looking like he had just realised what had come out of his mouth.

“Kid, I go out and fight crime every night, you think I don’t know what injuries caused by another person looks like?” The vigilante looked at Peter incredulously. “So did you get in a fight?”

Peter groaned internally. He had a point. If Peter had refuted the domestic violence theory, then it would only be expected for them to assume it was a different type of violence– but violence nonetheless.

“Something like that,” Peter admitted through gritted teeth, but before the vigilante could say a word, he continued, “Coz the stairs might as well beat me up, coz I look like someone beat me up, coz the stairs beat me up. When I fell down. It’s really not that important. I made a decision, and it came with bad consequences. I’ve learned my lesson, sir.”

The vigilante looked like he more to say, but Peter’s tone at the end must’ve convinced him to let the conversation move on.

“I’ll be fine, sir, no need to worry about me,” Peter assured him with a smile. “I’ll keep out of trouble.”

The vigilante let out a sigh as he pinched his brows together, “Alright, if you say so. But just in case, there's a clinic nearby– if you also don’t plan on talking about this with your uncle. The clinic is endorsed by Red Hood, they open at ten in the morning. Just walk in and they'll help you, free of cost. You can trust them.”

Peter hummed as he nodded his head like he understood– but not really. “Who's Red Hood?”

“Who's– you don’t know who Red Hood is?” The vigilante looked dumbfounded.

“...no? Am I supposed to…?”

“He's the vigilante who watches over Crime Alley. This area is his home turf. He has a soft spot for kids like you, so as long as you keep out of trouble, he'll make sure you're safe,” the vigilante explained, then he asked incredulously, “How have you not heard of Red Hood?”

“Same way I didn't know there was a curfew? I just moved here. Lived in Queens, New York, all my life.” Peter puffed out his chest proudly, then he let out the chuckle in the back of his throat. “Also, really? Crime Alley? It's bad enough that Gotham is called Crime Capital of America– but you guys have an area called Crime Alley? Isn’t that a little harsh for the people living here?”

The vigilante tilted his head to the sky, and had an exasperated look like he was thinking to himself I should have expected this from a non-Gothamite and yeah, the kid has a point.

“It used to be a nickname for Park Row, but everyone started calling it Crime Alley more than Park Row, so it became the unofficial official name. Barely anyone calls it Park Row now.” The vigilante excused. Then he froze as as realisation struck him.

“Do you know who I am?” The vigilante asked, and the teenager just shook his head.

“Nope,” he said, exaggerating the popping sound. “This city has way too many vigilantes to remember. I only really looked up Batman.”

“Wait– so you just stopped to talk to me, let your guard down, even though you weren’t sure I wasn’t one of Gotham’s rogues! You really are not from here, kid.”

Peter brightly grinned at the vigilante, finding his reaction funny. “Suuure, because one of your villains would have definitely tried to stop me from jumping off a building and offer to lend an ear. Tell me which one that is so I know to run next time it’s not you or them.”

The vigilante just sighed, shaking his head. “That’s not the point, kid. Gotham is a different beast, and it will eat you alive if you drop your guard. You shouldn’t trust too easily. It will get you in trouble here.”

Peter scoffed bitterly as he looked down at his now tightly curled fists.

“Don’t worry. I know how much trouble trusting the wrong person can bring me–” Or maybe, I don’t. At the vigilante’s warning, Peter was reminded of the last time he blindly trusted people he’d only just met. He wasn’t even sure why he decided to trust in the vigilante so easily, especially after the latter even pointed out how he wasn’t even sure he was a vigilante at all. He was right, he could have just been a villain wearing the air of a noble hero– like Beck.

Maybe it’s because he was in a different universe, he’d just naively believed that his streak of meeting terrible people would end with the Goblin, maybe he wanted to believe that his Parker luck had enough for one day. It could have been how there was something familiar about the man in front of him that he couldn’t put his finger on.

There was an awkward air of silence for a minute, before Peter broke it.

“Can I trust you, Mr. Vigilante?” Peter raised his head, and his determined eyes met masked ones. “Will I be in trouble if I trust you? Will I regret it?”

“I will do my best to earn your trust,” the vigilante declared confidently, then he offered his hand. “And you can call me Nightwing.”

“That’s–” Peter couldn’t stop a chuckle from escaping his chest. “That’s a really cool name. My name’s Peter, Mr. Nightwing.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter.” Nightwing chuckled.

It was at that moment that his suit decided to turn off the heating, and Peter was briefly reminded that he really should get going and lose the vigilante. He had spinned–haha, spider pun–his lies about living with and having a good relationship with a guardian named Stephen, he couldn’t just out himself as a liar by letting the man see Peter crawl into a water tank for the night.

“Anyways–” Peter cleared his throat and stood back up, “I’ve probably taken too much of your time, Mr Nightwing. I probably should get home now.”

Nightwing sprang up and volunteered, “I can walk you home if you want– or if you don’t mind walking, we can go where I parked my bike and I can drive you home. Make sure you get home safe.”

“You have a WingCycle?” Peter whispered in awe.

“I thought you didn’t know anything about me? How’d you know it’s called that?” Nightwing raised a brow, and Peter let out a–in his head, at least–nonchalant pff.

“The first name I could think of based off Nightwing was WingCycle, and I thought it’s cool-sounding enough name for a vigilante’s ride.”

Peter wouldn't mind having a SpiderCycle himself for when he ran out of web fluid, or needed to pass through areas without tall buildings he could swing from, and he imagined himself zooming past traffic in a red and blue motorcycle with web details.

“I want a motorcycle.” Peter pouted as he whispered, only intending for himself to hear. Then he shook the thought away as he remembered his main objective– “b-but, uh, no, thank you. Mr. Nightwing. I can get home by myself.”

“I’d feel much better if I knew you got home in one piece, Peter.”

“Didn’t you just try to scold me for being too trusting? Now, you’re expecting me to ride with a man I’ve never met before now?”

Nightwing narrowed his eyes.

“Come on, I’ve survived this long on my first night in Crime Alley, Mr. Nightwing. I think I’ll be fine. And we’re near where I live anyways.” Peter shrugged as he pointed his thumb behind him.

Nightwing didn’t look convinced. Peter began cycling through ideas to finally lose the vigilante, but fortunately for him, he didn’t need to do anything– Nightwing’s buzzing comm did the job for him. He tilted his head as he listened.

“I’ll try to check on you when I can.” The vigilante told Peter as he grabbed the grapple gun from his waist and shot it to a nearby building.

Peter just smiled and waved. “Good night, Mr. Nightwing.”

Chapter Text

Peter groaned as he forced his body up. He blinked multiple times, trying to make sense of the darkness greeting him. The only source of light he could find was the hatch he left open the night before, and he finally remembered– he wasn’t in May’s apartment, not in New York, not even in his own universe anymore.

He let go of the breath he didn’t realise he was holding back. It hasn’t even been 24 hours, and he was already feeling homesick.

“Get it together, Parker.” He mumbled to himself as he got on his feet, and his stomach growled. The sound echoing and making him wince. On the bright side, Peter’s injuries seemed to have fully healed. He no longer felt the itchiness that came when his fast healing was doing its job. He shouldn’t have to worry about getting concerned looks or interrogated about them.

“Alright, today’s itinerary– get food, find civi-clothes, and plan my Wayne Industries heist… huh.” Now that he said it aloud and after getting rest, that plan sounds… incredibly reckless. It also sounds like something a villain would do. He was definitely not thinking straight when he proudly thought of that the night before.

Peter shook the thought off his mind. He needs the equipment in that building. He could fix his suit without them, but it will take him too long– he’ll lose his mind if he has to wait that long to be Spider-Man again. He can’t choose to put the heist off, but he at least needs something more solid than sneak into Wayne Industries, hack their security, and find their lab! He’ll need to plan all his steps if he wants no one to realise he was in-and-out.

“Food and clothes first, then,” he revised as he climbed the ladder to the hatch. His suit had been helpful in keeping him warm, but he’ll need to change out of it before someone realises he was hiding a vigilante suit under his coat.

The smog-infused autumn breeze greeted Peter as soon as he emerged on top of the water tank. His nose scrunched up and he instinctively closed his eyes, but he was delighted, nonetheless, to find it wasn’t as freezing–to him–as the night before. The city also sounded a lot more alive, less murder-y, just a little more New York-like to his ears. 

Peter adjusted his hearing, scanning the nearby streets, then the next, until he found what he was looking for. If he stretched his hearing out to its limit and hadn’t found it yet, he’d just move location and listen and scan all over again. Fortunately for Peter, he didn’t need to and he found what he needed– the distinct sound of a shelter. He was familiar with the sound thanks to his days helping at F.E.A.S.T.

Peter made his way back on the street and he followed the direction of the shelter. There, he found a canopy tent had been erected beside the entrance. Rows of racks held assorted clothing while there was a table on the side with a pile of unsorted winter gear, and another with a mountain of footwear.

Peter had felt like Parker luck had finally given him a break, and he eagerly walked towards the racks to pick out his clothes. He settled for a pair of sneakers, a black hoodie, blue jeans and black sweatpants, and three shirts– a dark blue long-sleeve shirt, a red and grey t-shirt, and a red and blue one with Superman’s icon on it. He chose the Superman shirt only because it matched Spider-Man’s colours. Not his fault he would be sharing colours with another hero in this universe.

looking

Peter looked up from his haul and found the person that alerted his spider-sense. The man was not only physically imposing– towering over everybody there– his presence and appearance gave Peter the chills. His eyes’ unnatural shade of green looked like they’ve struck fear into many men, and the stark white patch among his dark hair gave him an unnerving gravitas.

Peter’s heart skipped a beat when the older man started walking towards him. Should he run? But why would he run? His spider-sense didn’t warn him of danger, so he was safe. The guy just looked dangerous to Peter, so does that mean he’s safe? But why was the guy looking at Peter? Did he see the suit–?!

Peter felt added weight on his arm as the older man placed a dark green winter jacket on top of his clothing haul. The weight was insignificant to Peter, but the unexpectedness of it and who had given it to him was enough to confound him and snap him out of his flight response.

“You’re gonna need a thick coat, kid. That hoodie won’t be nearly enough for Gotham weather, especially once the winter months come in.” The older man explained, having no idea how badlyn he had activated Peter’s flight response only a few seconds ago.

“And here, take this backpack. You’re gonna need it to carry all your stuff.” The older man added as he held the bag out for him to take, further confusing him.

“H-huh? I– why… I don’t need a–”

“Just take it, kid. The shelter’s giving these away too.” The older man took Peter’s free hand and forced the bag to him. “The name’s Jason, by the way. I volunteer here every Sunday.”

“Uh, thank you? Mr. Jason, this is… thank you.” Peter was still very confused.

“Polite kid, aren’t you?” Something in Jason’s tone finally snapped Peter out of his daze, and he raised a brow at the older man. Jason found this adorable.

“You’re new here, right?” The older man leaned down to get a good look at Peter. “I know the face of every alley kid, and you, you're a face I don't… recognize…” He spoke nonchalant at first, but his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed, like he was trying to figure out why Peter's face suddenly resembled someone he knows.

Peter avoided the older man’s eyes and tilted his head up to the top of the tent. “Yeah, moved here recently, just yesterday.”

“Huh. So what's your story? You moved to Gotham, and look like you found your clothes in a dumpster. You're not a runaway, are you? Because kid, if you thought running away to Gotham would be better than whatever shithole you ran away from, I have something to tell you.” Jason chuckled, but there was weight in his words, the weight of experience.

“N-no,” Peter refuted, then repeated his new backstory, “I moved in with my uncle, my new guardian. He just hasn’t gotten around to getting me clothes yet, so he just told me to get some from here.”

Jason scoffed. “Couldn’t even be bothered to come with you, when the clothes he's given you is some worn-down dirty old coat?”

“It wasn’t his first choice,” Peter defended fake Stephen. “He works night shift and only got home to rest, so he couldn’t come with me… he saved me, I owe him my life, so please don't think he's a bad person. He did– he's doing his best.”

“Sure, kid.” Peter didn’t fail to catch the older man roll his eyes, and Peter frowned.

What does this guy know? He’s just assuming without knowing the full story. He would’ve been dead without Stephen, he wouldn’t even be there arguing with this guy if he hadn’t sent him away.

“By the way, kid, if you're looking into washing off and getting into your new clothes, the shelter has some showers at the back of the building you can use. Just ask the receptionist for toiletries. Or just ask for the toiletries, if you only need them.” Jason waved his hand as he walked away, not even bothering to look back at Peter.

Peter rolled his eyes.

What was that term they used in anime again? The one where someone’s appearances and personality are the complete opposite? Oh right– gap moe. Big scary guy with a damn soft spot.

“He should mind his own damn business,” he muttered as he forcefully shoved his haul of clothes inside his backpack, minus the jacket which he wrapped himself in.

Peter’s stomach growled again, so much louder this time that every one in the tent paused to look at him. His face went flush at the attention. Peter was mortified, and his eyes flickered around, looking for his exit. Despite that, he didn’t fail to catch the look in Jason’s face– his expression darkened yet his eyes showed a glint of bright green as he looked down at Peter.

Peter gulped.

Jason slowly breathed out of his nostrils, and he grabbed the young teenager by his wrist.

“Come with me, squirt.”

“S-squirt–?!” Peter’s voice cracked at the utter disbelief, but he gulped down the embarrassment and corrected the older man– “I-I’m eighteen! I’m not a squirt!”

Jason raised a brow as he looked back at Peter. “Do you think I’m blind or something? You couldn’t possibly be older than 14.”

“There-there are people who look younger due to a condition, you know! It’s called Kallman syndrome, and it causes delayed puberty and hormone production! I could have that for all you know!”

Jason looked at Peter incredulously, his mouth agape like he couldn’t think of what to say. Eventually, he settled on asking, “Well, do you have that syndrome?”

“W-well, no– but I do have a baby face! I’ve had the face of a 14-year old for the longest time my aunt said–” Peter bit his tongue as soon as he mentioned May. His eyes began to sting as the tears threatened to form, and he looked down to avoid Jason’s gaze. His brows furrowed and his lips pursed to stop his emotions from spilling over. This was all in an attempt to hide what he was feeling, but it wasn’t fooling the older man.

Jason took a moment to breathe before he spoke to the kid again.

“Look, I’m sorry for calling you a squirt, and I won’t ask about what that is all about, but they have all sorts of food inside. You’re gonna need to eat. You can eat as much as you want, and they won’t get mad.”

Peter refused to show his face to the older man. Jason let go of his wrist and instead, placed a hand on the teen’s back, guiding him to the shelter’s entrance.

“Come on, kiddo.”

Being inside reminded Peter a lot about his time helping May at F.E.A.S.T. He felt a sharp pang in his chest. It wasn’t helping him feel better about remembering what he had lost.

Jason had momentarily left Peter’s side to talk to someone at the reception, but he came back soon enough with a clear zip-up bag filled with toiletries. It had a bottle of 2-in-1 shampoo, a small bar of soap, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and even had a small pack of toilet paper, wet wipes, and a small tin of moisturiser. The older man walked behind Peter and put it in his backpack for him. Then he led Peter to the dining area where they had the food laid out buffet-style.

“Take as much food as you want, as long as you can finish what you get– is the general rule, but catering is covered by Bruce Wayne’s charity so it doesn’t really matter. It won’t hurt the guy’s net worth.” Jason shrugged.

There was the slightest bit of contempt in the older man’s voice that Peter caught on. It could have been personal, but he brushed it off as the man just not liking billionaires. Peter knows a lot of people didn’t like Tony because he was a billionaire, even though he was a superhero. This guy wasn’t. It’s probably worse for him.

Peter eyed the food. He hesitated, but his stomach growled as loud as ever, and his hesitation faded into the wind. He piled a mountain of food on his plate, and when that was full, he grabbed another plate and piled that too. He sat down at an empty spot and ignored the looks of disbelief people were giving him.

Jason sat down across Peter, mouth still agape over the amount of food the teen had taken. He doubted whether the kid could even finish all the food he took, and wondered if Peter had taken his statement as a challenge–how much of Bruce’s money can he waste–but as soon as the kid began his meal, all doubts disappeared. It was like watching a man dying of thirst finding a puddle of water. When was the last time this kid ate– was this kid’s uncle starving him? The dreadful thought came to Jason.

“Jesus, kid, you’re like a damn black hole. Are you even chewing properly?” Jason said it jokingly, but he was very concerned. Maybe he should look into Peter’s home life, just to be sure.

“So, got a name or what?” Jason prodded.

“...Peter.” He answered between chews, not bothering to look at Jason.

“Peter? What a coincidence, my name’s Peter too, my middle name is anyway. Got a last name?”

Peter stopped this time. He looked up and met Jason’s unnaturally green eyes, but he didn’t tilt his head– he didn’t answer either, and he resumed eating at the same pace. Jason saw that coming. He just shrugged it off. He had other ways to find these things out. He was still trained by Batman, after all–don’t tell Bruce he thought that smugly–

Now his next question… frankly, asking it makes him feel like Tim– but he had a feeling, something gnawing at the back of his mind, and he just wanted to make sure.

“So, Peter, other than your uncle who took you in, do you have any more family? Mom? Dad?”

Peter stopped mid-chew. He eyed Jason suspiciously, but his expression soon turned blank, like he was suddenly sucked into whatever memory Jason had brought up. He swallowed, and with a flat tone like he was reading off a script, he answered, “I had my aunt, but she’s… she can’t take care of me anymore. Uncle Ben– her husband, died when I was twelve. My… my mentors, they died a few months ago. And my mom and dad died when I was six years old… in a plane crash.”

“...everyone around me just dies, don’t they?” Peter muttered under his breath. It didn’t sound like he intended Jason to hear it, nor did the kid look like he meant to say it out loud– but Jason did hear it– and he was stunned and speechless, and saw visions of green.

Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath before slowly breathing out of his nostrils. He reached over the table and nudged the teenager’s arm.

“Eat, Peter. Don’t wimp out on me after showing off being a damn food vacuum.”

The teenager looked at Jason blankly, but the older could see the life in his eyes had returned. He resumed eating, but he’s significantly slowed down from earlier. Despite that, he was content to have the kid snap out of his trance.

Peter looked young to Jason, he’s probably a little younger than Damian– yet he’d lost so much in a short time. He gave off the impression that he’d been forced to grow up too fast, much like his little brother. He had to move Gotham, probably against his will, and was likely being neglected. The thought leaves a horrible taste in Jason’s mouth.

“S-so what’s your story?” Peter suddenly asked in between chewing, and Jason raised a brow.

The kid swallowed. “I told you my story. Why don’t you tell me yours? It’s only fair.”

Jason rolled his eyes, half-irritated, half-amused, but he noted– Kid bounced back fast.

“Story’s nothing complicated. Grew up an alley kid, had to leave a few years, but I’m back, and I’ve made it my mission to take care of my home. Help out the shelter, watch over the alley kids, and keep the assholes and crazies on a leash.”

Peter let out a small chuckle over the familiar story, feeling nostalgic over his early years as Spider-Man, and helping out Ben and May at the shelters in Queens.

“What’s so funny, kid?” Jason frowned, but Peter just smiled.

“Nothing. You just reminded me of my life back home. I guess I understand why you’re doing what you do for your community. My Uncle Ben instilled the same ideals in me growing up– if you can offer a service to help your neighbor, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t. Once I’m more adjusted here, I plan to continue what he’d practice and help too.”

Jason sighed. He reached his arm over to Peter, his fingers positioned to give the kid a flick to the forehead– except he whipped his head back at the last second. Jason clicked his tongue at the kid’s fast reflexes.

“Do that in a few years, kid. Let the adults handle those sort of stuff.” That earned him a frown from the teenager.

“I’m eighteen–”

“We’re not playing this game again.” Jason’s tone clearly intended to end the discussion. “Just finish your food, then take a shower. I have to leave in an hour, and I want to leave sure that you ate enough and got cleaned up.”

Peter scoffed. “You got some ‘adult stuff’ to do?”

“Nah, family stuff. Sunday lunch. One time I was late, my older brother immediately blew up my phone. Another time, I missed it, and he went hunting down my location. He’s a pain in the ass.”

Peter chuckled. “He sounds fun and like he cares.”

“Well, I wish he would care a little less,” Jason admitted through gritted teeth.

Peter was dumbfounded– astounded– confounded– all the words of -ounded– when he walked into the shower room and his eyes met his reflection. He hadn’t clearly seen what he looked like since he arrived in this universe. He remembered joking–bluffing–that he has looked fourteen for so many years– but looking at himself in the mirror, he was fourteen.

So that’s why no one believed me when I said I was eighteen. I could probably pass off as thirteen if I wanted to.

When Peter walked out of the showers– finally feeling refreshed and in clean civi-clothes– he was surprised to see that Jason did keep his word and waited for him to come out all cleaned up. The older man did leave soon after, but he didn’t forget to remind Peter to stay out of trouble and told him he’ll see him around.

Peter got a map of the city from the receptionist before he left the shelter. Now, hours after he took a nice shower, he found himself waist deep in a dumpster between an electronics and hardware store.

He spent the better part of three hours sifting through junk and ‘junk.’ He found a badly misshapen laptop that– despite its appearance, the internal components were likely still functional. He also found the screen half of a different laptop, and a discarded tablet that had no visible damage or bloated battery. The screen didn’t come to life when he tried to turn it on, but his enhanced hearing told him the inside was working fine.

He was pretty satisfied with his haul, and after finding a mostly-complete toolbox, he left the area to find somewhere he wouldn’t be disturbed. He’d found it on top of an apartment building, which ironically, had a billboard of Bruce Wayne… overlooking Peter as he worked. He couldn’t even go to the other side to avoid the man’s gaze because it was a double-sided billboard.

He decided to ignore the pang of guilt, and focus on working on his haul.

He took apart the misshapen laptop first– removing all internal components, until all he had left was the metal case and the few bits that were stuck to it. Using his strength, Peter meticulously bent the case back to its rightful shape, even taking the time to smooth out the dents. The screen was out of luck, but that’s what the half-laptop was for. Peter had to do a bit of Frankensteining since the new screen was smaller, but since the screen lit up after connecting to the motherboard– which was being fed power from his suit– he was satisfied.

Peter reassembled the laptop’s internals in the case, then powered the laptop on. He had his fingers crossed, his heart was palpitating at the anticipation– but when he was met with a proper boot-up screen, he couldn’t help but jump to his feet in celebration. Bouncing up and down like a kid who won the jackpot at the arcade.

This was a big win for Peter, but he had to calm himself and slow down. He grabbed his suit from the bottom of his backpack. He didn’t need to put the whole thing on– just a glove, and he guided the nano-tech into his new laptop. It took a moment, but a message popped up on the screen.

「Device Connected.」

He held his breath as he inputted a terminal command. A new message popped up. Peter didn’t stop the smile forming on his face or tension leaving his shoulders. He has the foundation for his heist now, he’ll be Spider-Man again.

「Booting UnderoOS.」

UnderoOS was a program that Tony had created for Peter’s suits. It was a simple OS for the Spider-Man suits. A hub for the sensors and other tech to send its data to, which an AI can work in tandem with– but also able to function on its own, in case an AI was unavailable or gets compromised. Tony left it as just a simple hub, but Peter chose to continue working on it after his mentor’s death.

At its current state, his nano-tech was only able to connect devices to UnderoOS and bypass the need for authentication. Peter needed a device with an adequate processor and run the OS to have the nano-tech do more. He didn’t need the processor to be something high-grade, since the nano-tech on their own each had high processing speeds– he only needed a brain to tell the nano-tech to do the ‘advanced’ stuff like making security cameras loop footage, or having it map out a building for Peter. If his suit had an AI to do those stuff for him, he would have been able to skip this step.

Peter tilted his head to the sky. He didn’t know what time it was, but it’s definitely close to nightfall.

He’s ready. He’s climbing Wayne Industries tonight.

watching

Peter absentmindedly looked over his shoulder to look for the person his spider-sense alerted him about– a smile still painted on his face and still riding the high of having a solid plan– only for his heart to drop to his stomach when he was met by a figure in a plated yellow suit with a white bat symbol on the chest, perched a few buildings away.

“Hey, Double R, is that the kid? He’s– is he looking at me?” Peter heard the vigilante whisper to his comm, and he whipped his head back to his laptop in record time. He immediately called his nano-tech back to his glove and pushed it back to the bottom of his backpack, zipping it close, exactly as he heard footfall behind him.

Peter sprang up, grabbing his bag and laptop before turning around to face the vigilante. A bat symbol… definitely a member of Batman’s team.

“Woah, hey, didn’t mean to scare you.” The vigilante raised his hands, his palms visible to Peter. The good ol’ see, I’m not gonna hurt you stance that Peter knows well.

“No injuries anymore…? Is he covering them up?” Peter heard a voice from the vigilante’s comm, and he pressed his lips to a thin line. Are they gonna question him about it? How is he gonna explain that?

“Hey, kid, what are you doing here? This isn’t a safe place for you.”

Peter swallowed. Play it cool, Parker. You’re a fourteen-year old kid to them. They’re just trying to watch out for you… you in particular, for some reason. Nevermind that they seemed to be stalking me since I got here.

Peter forced his shoulders to relax, and he put on a smile. “I know, but I’m being careful. I’m far from the ledge, see?”

“That’s not the issue,” the vigilante’s hands landed on his waist. “What are you doing here?”

“It seemed safer here than the streets. I didn’t wanna get mugged while trying to fix this.” Peter raised the Frankenstein laptop from his side and opened it to show the vigilante.

“What the hell is that abomination?!”

Peter resisted the urge to frown, and instead bit the inside of his cheeks.

“I needed a laptop… for things. I found this in a dumpster and figured I could fix it. It’s… ugly–” Peter gritted his teeth at the hidden person’s words, though his pride over his accomplishment won over in the end– “but it works.”

Peter didn’t realise the big smile on his face as he looked at his project, until it dropped upon hearing the hidden person’s next words.

“That matches up with what O said. He was seen by cameras dumpster diving earlier.”

Peter felt the colour drain on his face. Why were they tracking him?

Did he do something to raise flags? What did he do? Isitthesuit? Isitthesuit? Isitthesuit? Isitthesuit?

“Are you guys… following me or something?” Peter immediately regretted asking that.

…alarmed…

“H-how– why, why do you think that?”

Peter fucked up. He couldn’t tell them that he could hear their conversations this whole time– he didn’t want to out that Peter Parker has powers. He’s not ready, he will never be ready. His life went to hell when people learned he had powers. He doesn’t want it again. He can’t do it again.

“I, I met Nightwing last night. Today, I meet you. Either you guys do daily check-ups on every person in Gotham– or you’ve been tracking me. It can’t just be a coincidence to meet two vigilantes two days in a row.”

The vigilante opened and closed his mouth, clearly unable to think of an answer. Peter narrowed his eyes. He gripped the strap of his backpack, and positioned his feet–slowly to not alert the vigilante–but he had to be ready to run.

“Resourceful, smart, and an orphan. Better keep B away from him.” The hidden person chuckled, but the vigilante didn’t find it funny– neither did Peter. B? Did he mean Batman? Why would they need to keep Batman away from Peter?

“N-not the time, Double R! Not helping!” The vigilante huffed as he roughly pressed a button on the side of his helmet. He sighed as he shook his head. “Sorry about that. That was… someone annoying.”

The vigilante chuckled dryly, but Peter found nothing funny.

“You haven’t answered. Why are you following me?”

“I wasn’t, I swear. I was in the middle of patrol when I saw you. Nightwing mentioned you… and maybe showed a picture and asked us to keep an eye. I’m sorry if I spooked you, but we are not following you.” The vigilante assured him.

truth

Peter’s spider-sense was telling him that the vigilante was telling the truth. He could hear the vigilante’s heartbeat and breathing– he was telling the truth. So why is it hard to trust him? He trusted Nightwing easily the night before.

…was it because he trusted Nightwing in the first place that he’s being stalked? Because he trusted someone blindly, he was jeopardising his peace… because he trusted again–will he ever learn his lesson?

“I… will believe you, for now.” Peter glared. “But please, leave me alone. Tell Nightwing that too, and whoever double R is. Unless I’m dying… unless I need saving, I don’t want to see any of you.”

The vigilante opened his mouth to speak, but Peter already turned to the direction of the fire escape. He heard the vigilante let out a long drawn-out sigh behind him, and he likely waited for Peter to reach the fire escape and start descending before turning his comm back on, and talking to somebody.

“You heard that, right? No stalking. And, seriously, dude, the kid was already tense, you couldn’t have chosen the worst time to make a joke!”

A joke? Which part? Peter couldn’t figure out what double R said that could have been a joke. None of that interaction was funny to him.

The vigilante’s heartbeat eventually faded away into the distance, easing Peter’s heart if only barely. Peter wanted to believe that this vigilante would keep to his promise. He felt like someone who would, but Peter didn’t want to get his hopes up.

I need to do research on Gotham’s vigilantes. I need to know exactly how many they are. He added to his to-do list– but for tonight, he was getting his suit fixed.

Peter brought out his map of Gotham city and made his way to Wayne Industries.

Like the night before, Peter relied on his spider-sense to alert him of danger from the streets and on his heightened senses to listen for footsteps and heartbeats that seemed to follow him. He also remembered what ‘double R’ said about tracking him through cameras, and he put extra effort to avoid getting caught by any– partly out of paranoia, partly to be petty, because avoiding cameras was child’s play for Peter. The only time Peter was caught on camera was when he had to use the subway. There was no way to avoid those, not if Peter wanted to arrive at Wayne Industries before midnight.

It was a mostly uneventful trip. Since the building was located in the more affluent business district, Peter saw a lot more police officers patrolling compared to the parts of Gotham he’d visited. It seemed safer– it felt safer and his spider-sense thought so too since it calmed a lot after exiting the subway, though there was still a lingering sense of wrong.

Peter was half-way to the building, he almost made it to two hours before–

watching

–there was another one on his tail.

Peter wanted to let out a big drawn-out groan, but he bit his tongue. He just told them to get lost! Was it that hard to leave him alone?!

Wait… something was wrong.

watching

Yeah, yeah, watching, but there was something else… what was it?

watching

Peter had learned his lesson after the first two times. The two vigilantes immediately realised that he found them because he made eye contact, so he didn’t immediately look this time… but was that the only reason?

Oftentimes, his reflexes would take over to save him before he realised, and his body would move on its own without needing input from him.

Peter hadn’t realised that his reflexes had taken over this time because he would usually move.

watching

Peter swallowed. The reason he didn’t look this time was because his reflexes deemed it necessary for him to not look. Whoever was following him this time was a different calibre than Nightwing and the other vigilante.

watching

Peter took a deep breath.

He knew where this watcher was, his spider-sense told him where they were. He could just continue– he could keep walking, remaining aware of his stalker’s location with no need to know who they were– but there was a part of Peter who wanted to know who this person was. He wanted to know who had forced his reflexes to not move.

Peter must’ve stayed too long in one spot because when he finally took another step, he felt his watcher’s gaze intensify.

watching

He acted normal and kept walking, and his watcher stayed on his tail.

Nightfall had begun hours ago. It was supposed to be dark, but the streetlamps flooded the roads with light– and all that light made it hard to see what was past them, to look into the shadows and see what was hiding in them. That was Peter’s main issue right now– and losing his stalker, but that comes after he figures out who this person was.

Peter couldn’t just stop and look– it would be too unnatural, and take his eyes too long to adjust and see before his stalker decides to duck out and hide. No, he needed to be smart about this, he needed to time this just right.

Peter did calculations in his head as he continued walking, his eyes flickering between buildings and turns, and the mental image of his stalker's location. And when he found just the right turn, he took it and he waited by the corner for his mystery stalker to grapple to the next building, and unknowingly reveal themselves to him.

Peter’s mouth was agape as he caught sight of his mystery stalker mid-swing– as his brown eyes met with the white eyes of the vigilante’s cowl. Peter thought he heard the vigilante’s heart drop as he felt his own do.

“You’ve got to be ducking kidding me…” Peter couldn’t help but mutter.

It was Batman.

Fucking Batman.

Why the hell was Batman following him?! What did he do?!

Peter bolted out of there as soon as the masked vigilante landed on top of the building and left his sight. He wanted to be gone before he and the vigilante could meet gazes again.

Peter didn’t look back, he didn’t want to look back– how could he look back?! He just kept running.

watching

Stop! Stop following me! He wanted to disappear badly– but thankfully, it didn’t seem like the Bat was in pursuit.

“B, B! Leave him alone, he made his wishes clear!” Peter clearly heard Nightwing’s voice through Batman’s comm, but he didn’t stop running. “He said he doesn’t want to be followed, he doesn’t want to see us!”

Peter felt unexplainably happy to hear the man’s voice and defend his wishes, but that didn’t mean he was going to easily forget what just happened.

“Too late, chum. He already spotted me.”

“You– he saw you? You let him see you? Why would you do that, B?!”

“I didn’t. He anticipated me, waited for me at a corner– and looked me straight in the eye.” Peter heard the utter fascination in the vigilante’s voice, and he wanted to scream– I WASN’T EXPECTING IT TO BE YOU!

“Oh god.” 

Oh god, indeed. Peter couldn’t break into Wayne Industries that night, not after he painted a target on himself like that! He needed to replan, he needed to reevaluate, and he needed to keep running.

Dick charged into the main room as soon as he returned to the cave. He wanted to have this conversation earlier in the night, but had to put it off until patrol was done.

“What the hell, Bruce?! Peter said he didn’t want to be followed! Why were you following him?!” 

Everyone else had arrived back before him. Half of his family– namely Stephanie, Tim, and Cass– had already changed out of their suits, while Bruce and Damian hadn’t changed yet, only opting to remove their masks. In their father’s case, his cowl had been set on the table and connected to the Batcomputer so they could review his earlier encounter with Peter.

The footage was Bruce’s point-of-view as he’d just landed on top of a residential building– they were watching exactly what their father saw that night.

“B, cameras just caught Peter leaving the Diamond District subway station.” It was Barbara’s voice coming through Bruce’s comm. “This is the first time he was spotted by any camera since he talked to Signal.” Her message was followed by a brief silence, but they all heard Barbara’s quiet request.

“Hn. I’ll check on him.” There was no hesitation in his father’s voice. Dick ran his hand over his face and hair in frustration. Why couldn’t his family be normal and respect people’s boundaries?

Bruce changed direction towards the subway exit, the view whipped left and right before he grappled away. Barbara took the liberty of fast-forwarding the clip to the moment they found the teen. Peter was caught by the camera before Bruce had spotted him, but it was obvious when he did, because the kid suddenly froze.

“Oh! There–” Stephanie exclaimed– “you can see the moment he realises B was watching him. He stops, then he continues walking like nothing was amiss. Oh, this kid is good!”

“He realised the moment B found him, just like last night with Dick.” Tim pointed out.

“Except the kid decided to confront Batman! The kid has nerves of steel– oh hey! He’s wearing a Superman shirt!” Stephanie nearly doubled over laughing, and she walked away to not distract and recompose herself, but she was failing.

“I don't think he knew he was being followed by Batman, Steph.” Barbara corrected as she sped up the clip again until it showed the moment Bruce and Peter’s eyes met, and she zoomed in on Peter’s horrified face. “If you watch his mouth, he says ‘you got to be ducking kidding me,’ pff– isn't that adorable? He looks just as surprised as B was.”

“Hn.” Bruce grunted.

“And probably horrified! He's not gonna trust us after this.” Dick shook his head as he massaged his forehead. “Do we know where Peter went after he ran off?”

“I've confirmed that Peter got off the subway at Crime Alley. He continued to avoid cameras after he ran away from B, but he couldn’t hide from subway cameras.” Images of Peter appeared on the screen of him running down the Diamond District subway station, entering the train, and running out from the Park Row subway station. He looked pale in all of them.

“So, any ideas how he knows we’re coming from a mile away? My vote is meta with acute hearing.” Stephanie raised her hand.

“That would explain why he started avoiding cameras after meeting Duke. He would have heard me talking about finding him through cameras.”

“You think he also heard you call his laptop, quote– an abomination? No wonder he wanted to get out of that conversation, Timmy! He looked so proud of it!” She teased as she elbowed his side, but Tim just rolled his eyes and didn’t comment further.

Damian had remained quiet, not at all interested in his family’s new interest– but the infantilisation of a boy his age struck him, and he felt compulsion to correct his foolish siblings.

“It is quite unfortunate that I need to point this out, but you are all underestimating this Peter.”

“What are you thinking, chum?” Damian noted his father’s voice– not Batman’s, not a detective’s, but a father pleased that he was participating.

“There’s more to him than meets the eye, Father. He might seem meek and fragile to you, but I believe he has received some form of training. He’s utterly failing in part of its execution– seeing as he failed to conceal that that he knew he was being followed three times–” Damian sounded offended, like how dare Peter make that mistake– “But when he does put his mind to a goal, he exceeds expectations.”

Damian didn’t say it aloud, but they all knew he meant Peter’s ability to avoid cameras and catch Batman unaware.

“If you act carelessly and push him, you won’t see a child in front of you, but a competent adversary.” Damian hammered his point home– don’t underestimate Peter.

This came from someone who received training since he was a child– he’d recognise a kindred spirit.

“Alright, who do you think trained him? Why did he get training?” Tim entertained the theory, then another question popped into his brain– “And what was he doing in the Diamond District?”

“Do you think his Uncle Stephen has something to do with that?” Stephanie spoke without her earlier joking tone. “Maybe he put Peter up to something? If this Stephen guy knew about Peter’s skills and is taking advantage of him…”

Tim crossed his arms and leaned back. “If Stephen had a job for him in the Diamond District that wasn’t above board, it would explain why Peter was spooked upon seeing B following him and ran back home– why he was spooked that we were trailing him at all. I mean, come on, what kid wouldn’t be stoked to meet Batman himself– unless they were doing something illegal.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a kid–meta or not–was recruited for nefarious purposes, nor would it be the first time someone took advantage of a kid’s trust.” Steph added.

Dick ran a hand through his hair. He remembered what Peter said the night they met– “I know how much trouble trusting the wrong person can bring me.”

The blank and hurt look on his eyes before he looked at Dick and asked him– “Can I trust you, Mr. Vigilante? Will I be in trouble if I trust you? Will I regret it?”

Dick couldn’t wait to meet Stephen and question why he could take advantage of the kid’s warped sense of trust.

“Do we have anything on a Doctor Stephen?” Bruce asked, and Dick looked back at the screens.

“Searches came up with a few in Gotham. Some recent graduates, some retired, even some who lost their license, but if we crossmatch them with a list of Stephens with wards named Peter, we’re out of luck.” Barbara sadly informed them as she pulled up the list that she had.

“I haven’t come up with matches for Peter either, but he might not be registered as a Gotham resident yet, so I started a search for Peters from Queens. If I had a last name, it would certainly make it faster.”

“I know a way we could get answers fast,” Tim suggested, and everyone looked at him, some with narrowed eyes.

“Tim, no,” Dick protested. “The kid already doesn’t trust us. If he realises that we followed him again and even stole his DNA, he’s– if he does need help, he wouldn’t come to us who could help him. We can find another way that doesn’t include trailing him.”

“Dick, the sooner we figure out whether Stephen is involved in shady business, the sooner we’ll have just cause to take Peter away from him. We’ll only need to follow Peter one more time, to lead us to his home so we can investigate Stephen– not Peter, Stephen. We’ll be in-and-out, and Peter wouldn’t even know we were there. This is for his own good.”

Dick opened his mouth to dispute his younger brother, but closed it as Tim denied his second assumption. “And we don’t need his DNA for this– why did you think I wanted his DNA? We won’t need it, at least not until we know how serious his situation is.”

Tim most definitely thought of getting DNA from the kid, but he denied it after he noticed his older brother’s sudden protectiveness over Peter. He’ll definitely still be taking some, just in case.

Dick narrowed his eyes, but he accepted his brother’s rebuttal.

“And how do you suggest we follow Peter? We know he can hear us coming from miles away, and he’s already wary of us following him. We won’t be able to get near him next time.”

“That may be true– Peter may be expecting Gotham’s vigilantes to follow him, but he wouldn’t be expecting our civilian identities, would he?” Tim shrugged as he turned back to the Batcomputer. “Our only problem now is Peter lives in Crime Alley, so we’ll have to ask Jason’s permission to enter before we can proceed.”

Speak of the devil– the Batcomputer alerted them of an incoming call from Red Hood, though none of them looked delighted by the message. On the contrary, they were concerned. Jason was never one to call the cave directly– he’d either contact Oracle and have her relay his message to them, or he’d show up at the cave and let them know in person– unless this was something serious.

Tim accepted the call and they were greeted by a seething Jason.

“What the hell is this about you all fucking stalking a kid?!”

Chapter Text

So… Peter met Batman. Rather, he was followed by Batman– on his second night in Gotham, on the night that he was supposed to get his suit fixed! On the night Peter was going to commit a major crime for the first time in his life! He couldn’t continue with his plans like nothing happened, even though he was positive he wasn’t being followed anymore after his encounter with Batman. It didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel safe. He felt vulnerable.

So he ran, all the way back to Crime Alley. Some hero he was.

There was no functioning clock in the Park Row subway station– at least, Peter didn’t trust they were working properly– but the clock on the Diamond District station said 10:03pm when Peter got on the train. If Peter’s sense of time was right, it should be around midnight.

Peter’s shoulders shuddered. He had his winter jacket on, but it really wasn’t helping. It felt a lot colder than the night before, and this time he couldn’t just turn his suit’s heating on since it was sitting on the bottom of his backpack. At the rate that he was going– persisting through alternate routes that double his travel time, all so he could avoid cameras– Peter won’t make it to his water tank for another 30 minutes.

He put all bets on his suit having full power by that time so he didn’t think to plan for when he  didn’t have heating on the way back.

Peter took out his Gotham city map from his pocket, now a little worn from the times he took it out and shoved it back in. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the routes again. If he made a turn at the next alley, it would cut his travel time by five minutes. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do.

Peter let out one long breath as he shoved the map back in his pocket. Come on, Parker. You haven’t gone to hibernation yet, this can’t be the first time you do. He tried to motivate himself.

He loved his powers, truly. Getting bit by that spider changed his life. He could climb– hell, he could walk on walls, he didn’t need glasses anymore, he had enhanced everything– strength, endurance, agility. He could do the gymnastics and acrobatic tricks his dad had told him about– tricks his dad and his grandparents performed– tricks Peter had only imagined doing.

…danger lurking…

Tony Stark found him because of his powers. He had the chance to learn under two of Earth’s brightest scientific minds, Tony himself and Dr. Bruce Banner. He got to meet Captain America– the legend himself– and join him and Hawkeye in missions. He found unexpected mentors and teachers in the Winter Soldier and Black Widow. They didn’t treat him like a kid like the others and held back their punches. They saw potential in him, they said, so they taught him how to fight, how to subdue an opponent non-lethally and lethally– just in case, they said. They taught him stealth and recon.

dangerous

All that to say, he’s very thankful for his powers, but sometimes it can be a biiiish– especially the no more thermoregulation part! He needed to install heating pads on his winter jackets after he was bit. Winters since then were hard because Peter felt sluggish, and he was always fighting the urge to go into hibernation and panic May.

Even worse– Dr. Banner pointed out that if Peter ever run out of power for his heating pads at winter, he would be at risk of dying from hypothermia faster than a normal human!

danger! danger! danger!

Peter hates the cold.

Because the cold makes him sluggish.

And his reflexes don’t work well when he’s sluggish.

look out!

All Peter could do in time was raise his forearm to his face, right as a large arm tried to wrap around his throat. He felt his attacker trying to tighten his hold and squeeze his neck, but his right arm was preventing that. Peter grabbed onto his attacker’s arm using his left hand, and was about to yank him off– when he felt a cold cylinder press against his temple.

Peter swallowed, and he looked up at the object. It was a gun.

“Just some dumb kid. Let him go.” His attacker wasn’t alone. It was dark in the alley, but Peter thinks he can see four people? If his heart could just calm down enough to let him hear their heartbeats and not his own, it would be greatly appreciated.

“He probably doesn’t have anything worth our time,” one of them sounded annoyed, but also a little jumpy. The guy’s shape kept looking around like he was expecting someone to come.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let him go.” Peter’s attacker shrugged as the gun hovered slightly away from his face. Good, just a little farther and he would be able to snatch it away if he needed to.

“But while the brat’s here, check his bag, will you– aarrrgghhhh! My– my leg!”

Peter’s mind went blank for a moment, only the sound of gunshots brought him back to the present. He was on the floor clutching his backpack close as he was faced with his attacker’s horrified and agonising expression. There was a glistening liquid pooling by the man’s legs– and an extra bend where his attacker’s calf should be.

Three behind him started screaming too, but the fourth person yanked Peter by his jacket, forcing him to look at his terrified but furious face.

“You did this, didn’t you?! What did you do?! What did you do, freak?!”

“I-I did nothing. What are you talking about?” He answered deadpan. He couldn’t help but look back at the mangled leg. “I-I don’t know what happened.”

Peter flinched when he felt the familiar metal cylinder on his head again, this time hot against his skin. His original attacker looked up at him, at first with a vindictive grimace– but then his face contorted into fear as he saw something beyond Peter, beyond his mates.

“R-Red Hood…”

Peter heard more gunshots behind him. The man holding him let go as he was sent reeling back by the gunshot through his neck. There was a distinct click noise from the gun but there was no fire. The other three cursed and screamed in agony behind him. Peter slowly looked behind him, and on the far side of the alley, he saw a hulking figure wearing a red helmet and leather jacket marching towards them. In his hands, he held a pair of guns.

The figure walked past the three writhing in agony, and past Peter, then stopped to look at the mangled leg.

angry

Red Hood briefly glanced at Peter, but returned his gaze to the teen’s attacker. There was no hesitation, the vigilante pointed a gun at the man’s head and–BANG–before he could utter a sound, his lifeless body plopped to the floor.

Red Hood reached to the side of his helmet, and he spoke, his modulated voice rang in Peter’s head louder than the screams behind him.

“Oracle, send police to my location.”

Peter blinked.

There was something he saw, when Red Hood turned towards him for a moment, something red. Not blood, but a shape on the man’s armour that the far streetlights outlined. He felt like he should be alarmed by that red shape– not the blood, but the shape.

What does Peter know about Red Hood? Why should he be alarmed– other than he just killed two men in front of him?

Where did Peter first hear Red Hood’s name?

“...you don’t know who Red Hood is? He's the vigilante who watches over Crime Alley.” Peter suddenly remembered his conversation with the first vigilante he met in Gotham.

“They’re on the way, Hood. Both police and paramedics are ten minutes away.” Oracle responded through Red Hood’s comm.

Oracle… O… oh.

That was three of them in one day, wasn’t it? Or at least one of them in three days. That cannot be a coincidence.

“Did you get shot, kid?” The vigilante’s body shifted as he looked the teen over. Peter was reminded of the dry fire from earlier, then he slowly nodded his head.

“Need a help up?” Peter tilted his head up at the vigilante, then down at the outreached hand in front of him. His eyes flickered, scanning for the vigilante’s guns, then feeling relieved when he found them in their holsters.

Didn’t he tell them to leave him alone? Of course, he also told them he didn’t want to see them unless he needed saving, which he did– or did he? He easily broke that man’s leg, didn’t he–

“I thought Batman had a no-killing rule,” was all Peter blurted out.

“He doesn't tell me what to do.” 

“Isn't that part of being in his team?” Peter blinked.

“I'm not part of his team.” The vigilante sounded offended.

“The big bat symbol on your chest would beg to differ.” Peter joked, but his heart still hadn’t calmed down. Breathe, Parker. You’re fine, you’re saved– or was he? One of them was right in front of him– and worse, this one was trigger-happy.

Red Hood retracted his hand. “Kid, do you even know who I am? What I do?”

“No,” Peter answered truthfully. “I only know Nightwing sang praises for you, and you're on the same team as him.”

“I'm not on their team. On the worst days, I’m butting heads with Batman. On the best days, we're reluctant allies, but I am not part of his team.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

Peter glanced down at his hands. They were shaking. Did his hands ever shake like this before? He’s faced aliens, he fought in space, he fought an army– were his hands shaking like this during those times? When was the last time Peter remembered shaking this badly? The first time he tried climbing a wall with his powers? The first time he tried swinging down a building?

–the night Uncle Ben died?

“Come on, kid, get up. Let’s get out of here before the police arrive.” The vigilante pulled Peter up by his armpit. He wrapped an arm around the teen, then he took the grapple gun from his waist. Peter wanted to kick himself for this, but he instinctively slung his arms around Red Hood’s shoulders as the man ran to build momentum and shoot the grapple gun towards a roof.

It was an interesting experience for Peter, being a passenger for once.

Red Hood set Peter down a little further from the ledge, before he walked back to sit on the edge of the building and looked down at the thugs still bleeding in the alley.

Peter walked behind the vigilante and looked down too.

“Wouldn’t the police need me to make a statement? Due process and that stuff?” He asked, and Red Hood whipped his head at him, probably making a face under his helmet– Peter couldn’t tell what expression that might be.

“Kid, I just killed a guy, do you think I care about that? And the cops don’t care for an alley kid’s statement. Just leave these pieces of shit to explain why they deserved this. They know what to say if they want to keep living.”

Peter blinked at Red Hood, then looked back at the people bleeding below them. “They’re gonna bleed out if we leave them like this. You probably hit a major vessel in two of them. They might die before the paramedics come.”

Red Hood let out a scoff. “What? You want to help the guys who held a gun to your head?”

“The ones who held a gun to my head are dead. Those guys were just watching– still bad, but not as bad. And maybe I do want to help them, but I wouldn’t be able to do proper first aid–” Peter was telling the truth– “I think my mind is still hazy.”

“Really? This is your hazy?” Red Hood tried to run a hand over his face, but only touched his helmet instead. “What are you even doing out here? There’s a curfew for a reason, kid.”

“Shouldn’t you know?” Peter shot back, but he realised, Oh yeah, they wouldn’t know. I’ve been avoiding the cameras.

“I was on the way home.” He told the truth, followed by a lie. “And if you’re gonna ask where are your parents or where is your guardian– guardian’s at work. He doesn’t know.” Peter liked to believe he was getting better at this whole lying thing.

Red Hood let out a long sigh, his helmet’s voice modulator modifying the sound. He sprang up from his seat and walked away from the ledge.

“Alright, tell me where you live. I’ll make sure you get there safely.” He said as he tried running a hand through his hair, but again, only his helmet was there.

Peter let out a scoff– or what he believed was only a scoff– but surprised himself and Red Hood when it turned into a cackle. A full on crazed cackle. He didn't even know he had it in him to make a sound like that.

Red Hood looked at him incredulously– at least Peter thought he might have that expression under his helmet.

“Nice try, Mr. Red Hood, but I’m not letting one of my stalkers know where I live, much less the gun-crazy one!” His tone carried no mirth in it, only venom.

“Stalker? What the hell are you talking about, kid? This is the first time we’ve ever met.”

“Sure, first time I’ve met you,” Peter jabbed a finger into Red Hood’s armour–did he really just do that to Red Hood– “But your team has been following me since last night! Meeting Nightwing was pleasant– cool even! He was chill– at least, he seemed chill– until he sicc’ed your team on me! You guys were tracking me through cameras! Why were you tracking me through cameras? And then– and then, DUCKING BATMAN! WHY DID BATMAN FOLLOW ME TOO?! I haven’t even committed any crimes yet! Why was the Dark-ducking-Knight on my tail?!” Peter paced back and forth, whipped his hands in the air, and messed his hair– he was the spitting image of a person at the end of his ropes.

“Waitwaitwait– kid, slow down. Did you say Batman was following you– and did you just say ducking instead of fucking?”

“Not the point, you sick Daredevil-Punisher lovechild– your team has been driving me nuts! I’ve been in Gotham two nights, TWO!” Peter raised two fingers angrily at the man’s helmet– or as close as he could with their height difference.

“What the duck is my life?!” He exclaimed as he turned his back on the vigilante.

Red Hood tried to run a hand over his face, but instead met the hard metal of his helmet. He wanted to find ‘duck’ and ‘ducking’ funny, because it was a funny and childish thing to say– it was something he could imagine his older brother substituting a curse word for at the last second.

But seeing the fourteen-year old kid in front of him clearly being pushed to a breaking point– by his own family, no less– it wasn’t funny.

Jason doesn’t live at the manor. He has his own apartment and safehouses he’d rather stay in. The only times he saw his family was during their Sunday lunch, and during missions where he had to work with them. All this to say– most of the time, he doesn’t know what family was getting into unless they had an active conversation about it– but this was crazy.

“Kid, first of all– I’m not in their team. How many times do I have to say this? And secondly, I am against whatever shit B and the Robins have been up to. I have nothing to do with it!”

Peter looked at Red Hood incredulously and with his mouth agape. This guy just used a nickname–B–that the other vigilante and double R called Batman, and he said he’s not part of their team? Did they think Peter was an idiot?

“Oh my–” Peter pressed his face onto his backpack, he took one deep breath, then screamed.

Red Hood tilted his head away from the kid in the middle of a breakdown, and opened up the comm channel that he never used. Jason never had reason to make a direct call to the cave, but this certainly seemed reason enough.

It took one second, but he finally patched through– “What the hell is this about you all fucking stalking a kid?!”

“Red Hood, how do you–” It was Dick who spoke first, but Jason didn’t let him finish.

“I just saved a kid that said you were tracking him through cameras and that B followed him? What the hell is that all about?!”

“Hood, it's not–” Tim tried to explain, but stopped as he realised– “Wait, is he still there? Is he with you right now?”

“You’re not changing the subject here, Red. Do you or do you not admit to stalking a kid?” Behind Jason, he realised the teen had stopped screaming.

“We weren’t, Red Hood.” Bruce responded this time. His voice sounded gentle, almost fatherly, like the tone he would use on Jason during their Sunday lunches. “Oracle only set an alert system to notify her where Peter had been last seen by cameras. We were not actively following him.”

“Bull–” Jason thought he heard Peter say something, but when he turned to the kid, he still had his face planted on his bag.

“Peter meeting me and Signal on the same night was a coincidence. We only wanted to check on him.”

“That’s great if that was your intention, B, because the kid is in the middle of a breakdown because of all of you! He was apprehensive of me because he thought I was with you! Not because I’m against you– but because he thought I’m a member of your team! First time for everything, right, B?”

There was silence from the other side, and Peter groaned.

“I don’t have time for this! I’m going home.”

Jason looked behind him and saw the teen had already crossed half the roof and was heading for a fire escape.

“‘I'm not on their team,’ he says, but apparently has them on speed dial. Suuure.” Peter mocked Red Hood.

“Wait! Kid– Red, B, Big Wing– this is not over.” Jason warned them before closing the channel and running after the teen. Peter chose to ignore that Red Hood had nicknames for Nightwing and who Peter figured was double R, since he wasn’t even supposed to hear that. He would burst a nerve thinking about it.

“Stop following me! I meant what I told that Signal guy, I only want to see you guys if I need saving! So thank you for saving me, Mr. Red Hood, but I don’t want to see your masks or helmets until the next time I’m getting mugged.” Though he really hoped he wouldn’t be mugged again. He wished his suit was fixed, then he wouldn’t need saving again.

“Kid, wait–” Red Hood blocked his path. Peter rolled his eyes as he shifted to sidestep the vigilante, right as his stomach growled– as loud as it did that morning. He and Red Hood froze.

concerned

Peter looked up at the vigilante. He couldn’t see the expression behind his helmet, but his spider-sense was telling him what it was.

concerned

“Kid, when was the last time you ate?”

“None of your business. Now, leave me alone.” Peter tried to sidestep Red Hood, but the vigilante was built like a truck. He would need to perform maneuvers that Peter Parker shouldn’t be able to do to get past the man.

“No no no, kid. It is my business if you die of starvation. I take care of the alley kids and you are one now, so tell me when did you last eat?”

“I can take care of myself.” Peter straightened his jacket and tried to walk around the vigilante. “Go find people to beat up and shoot–” His body moved on its own and ducked away when Red Hood tried to grab the back of his jacket.

“Fast kid, aren’t you?” Red Hood commented as he looked at the kid and the hand he’d avoided. He was impressed under his helmet, but he tensed as he noticed Peter’s furrowed brows and widened eyes. The kid had tightened his grip on his backpack straps, his shoulders loosened, and his feet shifted. He was preparing for a quick escape.

Red Hood tilted his head. Peter thought it was disbelief or even intrigue– the blank expression on his helmet really made it hard to judge, but his spider-sense told him exactly what it was.

…alert…cautious…

“Look, kid, I’m not gonna hurt you.” He raised his hands like a surrender. ”I just want to buy you some food. Let me do that, then I’ll let you go on your way. Won’t run after you after that, deal?”

truth

Peter relaxed. He wanted to refuse, but his stomach protested with another growl. Damn his fast metabolism– even a family-sized meal didn’t last him twenty-four hours. He needed to figure out how he’ll feed himself outside of the shelter. He didn’t like the idea of taking away resources from people who needed it more than him.

“Fine. Don’t make me regret this.” Peter relented through gritted teeth as his shoulders trembled.

“You cold, kid? Pretty sure that jacket is too much for this time of year.”

“Says the guy whose armour has its own heating. How would you know what outerwear is appropriate for the weather?” Peter acted coolly as he crossed his arms, but he was really freezing.

“I have an extra jacket in my bike with a heater, if you’re so jealous of my suit. Come on.” Peter’s ears perked at the mention of two things– a bike and heat, but he shrugged, feigning reluctance.

“If you’re volunteering, might as well.”

Red Hood scoffed as he unholstered his grappling gun from his waist. He wrapped an arm around the teen again, and this time, Peter voluntarily slung his arms around Red Hood’s shoulders as they swung away.

Huh. Peter was a passenger again. He hoped this would be the last time.

Red Hood’s motorcycle wasn’t too far from where Peter was mugged. If you were swinging around– only about three minutes away. If you were to walk normally, it would take ten– if you were trying to avoid cameras, probably twenty, twenty-five, give or take.

The vigilante handed Peter the heated jacket– a black puffer jacket with Red Hood’s red bat symbol sewn into the back– then they drove off to a deli-grocery on the other side of Crime Alley. Despite it being around 1am, it was still open, but other than the person on the cash register, there was nobody else inside. The place reminded Peter a bit of Delmar’s.

Peter followed behind Red Hood as he walked in. The cashier– a man in his 50s with a boxer’s build– looked up from the small television tucked in a corner, and didn’t flinch at the sight of the vigilante. His eyes glanced over to Peter for a moment before he got off his chair, revealing his true height that rivalled Red Hood’s.

“What can I get for you, Red Hood, sir?” The man asked with a gruff voice.

Red Hood glanced back at Peter who was still looking around with a mystified expression, but immediately stood at attention when he realised the two older men were staring at him.

“What do you want, kid? You’re eating, you pick.”

“Oh.” Peter looked over at the menu. Peter wasn’t picky, he’d eat anything, but since he was in a place that reminded him of Delmar’s, he chose the option that was closest to his usual.

“Oh, and can you add pickles to it, and smush it?”

“Sure, kid.” The cashier shrugged.

“Make it five sandwiches, will you?” Red Hood requested as he took out his wallet and placed cash on the counter. “We’ll sit in at the back.”

The older man nodded and began making the sandwiches. Meanwhile, Peter followed Red Hood to a room in the back. The vigilante must have been there many times because he knew exactly where the light switch was despite it being on the other side of the dark room.

Peter sat on one of the chairs around the table, while Red Hood sat across him. They waited until the older man walked in with their food. Peter didn’t question why the vigilante had ordered five sandwiches– he figured the vigilante wanted to eat too, but he was surprised when Red Hood pushed all five sandwiches towards him.

“I-I can’t eat all this.” Peter tried to refuse, but Red Hood was firm.

“You can, and you will, kid. Now eat up.”

Peter pressed his lips to a thin line. He wanted to refuse again, but his stomach continued to protest the lack of food, and he relented. He tried to eat at a slower pace, but after the first bite, he ended up eating at his normal pace.

pleased

Peter ignored his spider-sense, and just kept eating. He’s had a very long day. Eating at a place that reminded him of Queens, eating food that tasted the same as the ones he ordered from his favourite deli– it was probably the first time he could truly unwind since arriving in this universe.

It was the first time he could look back and think about what happened that day– planning to commit a crime for the first time, painting a big bat target on him– almost dying because he was only Peter Parker.

He even maimed a man without due cause.

He used his powers on a guy just because he was going to look into his bag and see his suit. A suit he hasn’t even worn out. He probably wouldn’t have even realised what it was, but Peter still panicked and caused the man tremendous pain.

What kind of hero does that?

“Kid, don’t suddenly blank out on me. Eat.” Red Hood chided as he realised the kid had the same blank stare he had at the shelter, but his words fell on deaf ears.

“...I did something really bad back there. I couldn’t control myself.” Peter muttered under his breath. He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but he did, and the guilt hit him harder.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, kid.” Red Hood nudged Peter’s arm to snap him out of his trance, almost like Jason from the shelter. “You were trying to protect yourself and took action. That guy deserved what he got.”

Red Hood didn’t see what really happened. He wouldn’t know that Peter panicked. “It’s still not right, it wasn’t justified.”

“Alright, then what violence would you call justified?”

Peter deflected the question. He didn’t know what to answer. “I didn’t need to do that to him. I could have taken the gun away instead, I could have talked them down, I could have just paid attention in the first place, then we wouldn’t have found ourselves in that situation.”

“You know, I’m hearing a whole lot of ‘I, I, I,’ but you’re not concerned that I– me–” Red Hood pointed at himself– “I killed those guys in cold blood in front of you, but I’m not hearing you telling me what I should have done.”

Peter looked at Red Hood, his eyes flickering as he thought of what the vigilante said.

“I guess, I don’t know. I know people who killed lots of people. They said it wasn’t even for justice or retribution most of the time. They just received orders and they did it, no questions asked. In the case for one of them, he didn’t have the choice to question his orders. But I know them, they’re good people. And they were trying to do good after years of doing bad.”

Peter thought of when he learned what Bucky and Natasha had done before joining the Avengers. What they did weren’t the actions of good people– but he’d known them for a year at that point– they’d treated him with respect and deemed him their protege. The people he knew were different from the people he’d read about. He was certain about that.

“I realised with them that it’s not all black and white. I think, because of them, I learned that sometimes, you need to separate a person’s previous crimes and who they’re trying to be.” Peter looked at the whites of Red Hood's helmet. “You seem bad, you killed two people– but you came to my rescue, and now you’re feeding me, so you couldn’t be all that bad.”

There’s a spectrum of grey between black and white where a lot of good people operated in, Peter’s well aware of that. They have their own morals like he has his own. He wouldn’t want them trying to change his beliefs, so he doesn’t try to change theirs unless it was actively hurting innocent people.

He has his own morals– ones he wanted to uphold, but recently, it seemed so much harder to do.

“I would never kill someone myself– I don’t think I want to. They didn’t want me following their paths either. They always told me to be mindful of what I do, before I unknowingly take that plunge.”

Red Hood tried to grab his face, but he just grabbed his helmet.

“The fuck– okay, that is a lot to unpack, kid. Why were you around these people? Why do you know gun-for-hires and killers?”

“Ex gun-for-hires,” Peter stressed. “Were you even listening to me? They don’t do that anymore. And if I were to expect anyone to understand their situations, I would expect it to be the trigger-happy vigilante!”

Red Hood ignored the clearly pointed insult thrown at him. “You didn’t dispute the killer part.”

“They might have stopped killing, I never bothered to ask because it’s rude to ask people’s body count!”

The vigilante looked at him incredulously under his helmet. “I don’t think the number of kills is what they meant when you’re not supposed to ask for someone’s body count, kid.”

“What the hell is that even supposed to– ohh. Oh. Oh god, how did I never realise that?!” Peter looked disgusted, and Red Hood couldn’t help but laugh.

Peter pressed his lips together, clearly trying to stop a laugh of his own, but his face relaxed and his gaze drifted down to the table.

“Besides, one of them passed already. I couldn’t ask her anymore, even if I wanted to.”

The vigilante immediately stopped laughing and just looked at Peter.

“I didn’t even get to say bye. I didn’t see her before the mission, I only learned she was gone after everything. She… she was like a big sister to me. She saved me. I wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for her.”

“I’m sorry, kid,” was all Red Hood could say.

Peter finished the rest of his sandwiches quietly, and Red Hood didn’t ask any more questions.

Red Hood dropped Peter off about five minutes away from the water tank he called home. Peter tried to give back the heated puffer jacket, but the vigilante told him he could keep it. He was infinitely grateful for that.

Peter made sure the vigilante had driven far enough before he made the trek to his water tank.

The atmosphere in the cave was somber, to say the least.

Barbara had secretly patched Jason’s mic to the cave so they could listen in on his conversation with Peter, and they heard everything. After he dropped off Peter, they called him back and asked to meet them in the cave. Bruce had sent the rest of the family to their rooms to rest despite their protests, so only he and Dick were left in the cave.

They heard the distinct sound of a motorcycle pulling into the cave, and a few seconds later, Jason was rushing into the room with his helmet already off– and looking pissed.

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?!” Jason threw his helmet across the floor, and looked pointedly at his older brother and father. “You hacked into my fucking helmet and listened in on a private fucking conversation! The kid was already paranoid, and you’re giving him more reason to not trust you! To not trust me!”

Jason saw splotches of green in his vision, and he knew he had to take a moment to breathe.

“Jay–” his older brother tried to come near him, but Jason held up an arm to stop him.

“No! Don’t Jay me, Dick! When you asked me to keep an eye out for the kid, I thought you meant check up on him from time to time– now I learn you guys have been stalking him? And this is not just Tim being the stalker of the family– this was the whole fucking family doing it!”

Bruce stood from his seat in front of the Batcomputer and tried to explain, “Jason, I didn’t lie when I said Barbara only had a notification system for Peter. She was only worried, but when he heard Tim mention–” But it was the wrong thing to say, and Jason grew more furious.

“Oh! So Peter didn't just meet three of you and Babs?! He even met Tim?! It’s like you’re intentionally trying to feed this kid’s anxiety or something!” Jason threw up his hands exasperated. 

“Jay, Peter hasn’t met Tim yet.” Dick’s serious words confused Jason, and he turned to his brother.

“What do you fucking mean?”

It was Bruce who explained, “We believe Peter may be a meta with acute hearing. He overheard Tim mention on Duke’s comm that cameras caught him dumpster diving, and that’s where the misunderstanding began. He misinterpreted it to mean we’ve been tracking his every movement. We weren’t.”

Jason looked at Bruce incredulously, and he got closer to him, enough to jab a finger onto the man’s armour. “Don’t make it sound like the kid’s to blame for that, Bruce! No matter how you spin it, he’s still right! You were tracking him and invading his privacy– like how you invaded his privacy again when you hacked my fucking helmet!”

Bruce had no response for that, but he didn’t evade his son’s glare.

“The kid has already lost so much– he has no parents, he lost his family, he’s in a new city–he moved to Gotham, for Christ’s sake! And he’s being neglected by his piece-of-shit guardian! He doesn’t need Gotham’s lead protector backing him into a corner!”

“Wait, you met Stephen?” Dick asked.

“No, I haven’t met the guy! If I had, I would’ve beaten him to a pulp and took the kid away from him!” Jason’s face tightened with a mix of regret and anger, then he looked at his brother. “Dick, when I first met him this morning, the kid was still in the same clothes you saw him in the night before. He scarfed down food that would’ve fed a small family! Stephen lets Peter go out after curfew! That Stephen guy doesn’t care about Peter– but Peter believes he owes that piece of shit his life!”

“Owe him? Did Peter mention why he owed Stephen?” His brother asked, and Jason shook his head.

“He only said he saved him, he didn’t say anything else. Do you have anything on the guy? You must have something to show for all this stalking.” Venom remained in Jason's tone, but he was trying to stay calm and push the green in his vision away.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have anything yet. It’s hard without a last name.” Her live video appeared on the Batcomputer. She’d been listening in this whole time, watching– but hadn’t made her presence known until then.

She let out a sigh. “Guys, if Stephen is involved in some kind of criminal operation and is still in the former line of work as Peter’s friends, I doubt I’d find anything on him unless I do a deeper search.” There was a pause, a hesitation in Barbara, then she conceded, “We might have to take up Tim’s idea for this.”

Dick pressed his lips into a thin line. He didn’t like that plan. Jason was right, with every step they took, they only fed into Peter’s anxiety and paranoia. But the situation has changed with the new information they have on the kid and his past. If they wanted to act fast, they would need to get closer to Peter and Stephen.

The kid may believe that his friends wanted him far away from their line of business, but what an adult tells a child doesn’t always reflect their true intentions. They may have been taking advantage of his trust so he could slowly mold Peter into becoming another soldier. Or even if what they said was true– that Peter’s friends didn’t want him following in their footsteps– with them and his family gone, Stephen has leeway to turn Peter who he wants the kid to become.

If Peter–already capable of catching Gotham’s vigilantes off-guard and evading cameras– were to receive more training and molding, they would run the risk of allowing a dangerous adversary to bud under their watch.

“Tim’s idea? What idea?” Jason furrowed his brows at Barbara on the screen, and at his father and brother. Dick treaded lightly and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“Jay, you’re not gonna like this– and I don’t either– but we have to get closer to Peter so we can find out more about his guardian. We will need to continue monitoring him, watch over him so he can lead us to Stephen.”

Jason shook his brother’s hand off. “Fuck no, Dick! How do you think he’ll react if you keep on stalking him?!”

“We might not have any other choice than this, Jay. We can’t take him away–yet–not until we know everything about Stephen and what he is capable of. For all we know, Stephen is a bigger threat than we initially thought. He might have nefarious plans for Peter, and he could keep coming back if he’s not dealt with first. But in the meantime, we can be present for this kid who clearly needs help.” Dick justified.

“We’re not going to approach him as our vigilante identities, instead we’ll approach him as civilians– you’ve already met him without your mask. And as civilians, we will be able to help him in ways we couldn’t as Nightwing or Red Hood. You said it yourself, he’s being neglected in a new city. He will need people that he can turn to outside of Stephen, people that he won’t be afraid of.”

Jason wanted to protest, but he couldn’t fault the reasoning. They couldn’t just leave Peter alone anyway– the kid would have kept starving if he didn’t eat at the shelter. He’d keep going out after curfew– he needed someone to keep an eye on him if Stephen won’t.

“Do you believe this will really work? You really think he’ll just trust us as civilians?” Jason furrowed his brows. He wanted to believe in this plan.

Dick answered with a smile, “I hope so.”

“He will.” Bruce sounded certain, and both brothers looked at him. “Peter is an optimist– he’s paranoid, but I believe he’s an inherently trusting kid. He watched Jason kill two men in front of him, and despite that, he believed you were someone he could confide in. He judged you were good enough to tell you about his deceased friend.”

Bruce’s eyes scanned the room. He picked up Jason’s helmet when he spotted it and handed it back to his son. “He’s like Dick in that regard, wanting to see the good in people.”

“Right…” Jason could only say as he took his helmet.

“We will help him, Jason.” Bruce said in his fatherly tone, before shifting into his business tone as he turned toward the locker room. “We’ll reconvene with everyone present tomorrow, and we’ll plan our steps in more detail."

“The younglings will want to be included in this.” Dick said as he looked at the time on the Batcomputer. “You gonna spend the night?”

“Sure,” was Jason’s response, and he let out a sigh.

His brother followed behind their father, leaving Jason alone in the main room. His father’s comparison echoed in his mind along with his first meeting with Peter. Would Bruce also see what Jason saw if he met the kid in person?

“Babs, I have a question for you.” Jason asked, prompting Barbara’s live image to appear on the Batcomputer.

“Yeah, what is it, Jason?” She asked, not picking up the cautious tone in his voice.

Jason glanced at the locker room’s direction, but no one was coming out. He broached the topic carefully. “Peter… do you think he resembles someone?”

“Peter? I don’t think so. Why? Do you think you recognise him from somewhere? If you let me know, I might be able to add it to my search parameters.” That answer felt like a bucket of cold water, and he let go of the breath he was holding. He thought if someone else would see what he saw, it would be Barbara, but if she says she doesn’t see it…

“No. If you say you don’t see it, maybe I was wrong.” Jason told her. He doubted himself for a moment, but quickly brushed off his hesitation. He thought he was onto something, and he’d keep it in the back of his mind for now.

Chapter Text

Peter looked around as he pushed the library doors open, then glanced up at the security camera pointed at the entrance. His stalkers would have likely been notified that he was there, but as far as Peter was aware, they were all nocturnal– except for Signal that he met yesterday, so he believed he would be fine.

Peter hoped that Signal would honour his wish to be left alone. He seemed like he would, despite what happened the night before. It’s not like the dude could’ve asked Batman to leave Peter alone. He could not have expected him to order his boss around, like he would have never been caught ordering Tony around. It would need to be a friendly suggestion, that Tony insisted he made.

All that to say, Peter wasn’t going to hold the whole Batman-followed-him-on-his-way-to-commit-a-crime thing over Signal’s head.

The doors swung close behind Peter as he straightened his dark green jacket. He marched his way to the computers with only a singular task in mind– to know more about Gotham’s protectors, his stalkers.

“Peter!”

He froze as his name was called out. No one should know him, no one should know his name. He tried to think, who would have known his name? Other than Gotham’s vigilantes, there was Jason from the shelter– maybe the receptionist too, but he hasn't heard her say his name before. Who else knew him in this world?

Peter slowly turned his head, and relaxed as his gaze was met by green eyes behind a pair of glasses. “Oh, it’s you, Ms. Babs.”

“Hey there, kid. Didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” She cheerily greeted him from behind the receptionist desk.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” Peter nervously chuckled. He’d completely forgotten about her. With all the excitement–note the sarcasm–that he’d gone through in the past thirty-six hours, he’d brushed off his very first human interaction in Gotham.

“We don’t get a lot of visitors here and most of them are regulars, so I tend to remember the faces of newcomers.” She shrugged. “So what brought you in today? Planning to borrow some books?”

Peter shook his head. He couldn’t even if he wanted to, he didn’t have a library card. “No, no books. Just going to use the computers again. Oh! But do you have post-its or a small notepad I could borrow?”

“I have sticky notes here, you don’t have to give it back when you’re done. We have a whole box filled with them in the back. And here’s a pen for you.” Peter approached the reception to grab the pen and paper, and he noticed Barbara’s other hand on her phone typing furiously before she set it down.

“I’ll be here if you need anything else.” She smiled.

“Thank you again.” Peter gave a small head bow before resuming his march to the computers.

He sat down in front of the same computer he’d used when he first arrived there and booted it up, then he took out a small USB stick from his jacket pocket and stuck it into the computer tower. He wanted an inconspicuous way to hack the computer in broad daylight, so he had his nano-tech turn into this unassuming form factor. 

watching

Peter looked up from the computer and scanned his surroundings. He didn’t find any of the few people on the floor looking at him, even Barbara was glued to her computer and typing away. Then his eyes shifted to the security camera overlooking the computers.

“Whatever.” Peter muttered under his breath as he looked back at his computer. The camera’s location prevented it from seeing his screen so he wasn’t too bothered by it. Meanwhile, the ancient thing had finished booting up and brought him to the desktop, skipping the log-in screen. He opened up the Horizon browser and started digging through online encyclopedias, forums, and official websites for answers.

After three and a half hours of scouring, he had filled out about ten post-its with his notes.

He found that Batman’s team of vigilantes is reportedly composed of four or five members– people debated the existence of a fifth member. There’s Red Robin– who Peter presumed to be double R, Signal who was the city’s daytime vigilante, Spoiler, the only female member after Batgirl retired years ago, and finally Robin– Batman’s longest running sidekick, and who has had different people behind the mask. People figured that because Robin hasn’t seemed to age in the past two decades, and was even a girl at one point.

There’s also a fifth debated member called Black Bat. Some people reported seeing another female Bat working along the team, but nobody has ever caught a photo of her, blurry or otherwise. You could find photos of Batman’s team online, but most of them were either very blurry or low quality. The team seemed to operate like a bunch of cryptids– in fact, in Batman’s early days, they believed he was just some kind of urban legend. It wasn’t until he co-founded the Justice League that people learned he was real.

Peter didn’t find much about Oracle in the forums. At first, he thought Oracle and this mystery Black Bat could have been the same person– then he wondered if Oracle was a hidden member of the team, their ‘man in the chair,’ instead. It would make sense no one has ever seen her or knew she existed, unless you can hear through their comms.

So that was a total of seven members in Batman’s team, including the Dark Knight himself. As for the other ‘Bats’ Peter has met…

Nightwing is the protector of Bludhaven, a city neighboring Gotham. He occasionally comes over to help Batman and his sidekicks, and it’s commonly accepted that he’s a close ally of theirs. People have been divided between calling him an honorary Bat, or an actual Bat. Some people believed he may have been Robin at some point because of his bird motif and his closeness with Batman.

Then there’s Red Hood– Crime Alley’s very own crime-lord vigilante– two terms that Peter thought he’d never see together.

Turns out, the man was telling the truth about being reluctant allies with Batman– he even waged war against the caped crusader years ago, which only ended after the two seemed to have agreed on a ceasefire. Batman has been rarely seen in Crime Alley since, so people speculated Red Hood has prohibited the man and his sidekicks from entering his turf without permission.

Peter wanted to be relieved, because it would mean he’ll only have to worry about one vigilante while in Crime Alley– and one who claimed, and shouldn’t be a member of Batman’s team. But seeing as Red Hood was actually a lot closer to Batman than the public was led to believe– he’s on nickname-terms with them, what the hell– he didn’t think he would be in the clear even if he was in the alley.

Peter leaned back on his seat and looked at the mess of post-its in front of the computer. Then his stomach growled.

He sighed. That figures, it had been almost four hours since he last ate.

He took out his USB stick from the computer, and the screen immediately switched to the log in screen. He gathered his post-it notes and shoved them in his backpack, and marched towards the receptionist desk where Barbara was furiously typing on her phone again.

“Here’s your pen, Ms. Babs. Thanks again for letting me borrow it.” Peter set the pen down on her desk, and the librarian looked up at him.

“Done already, Peter? That was quick.” She was smiling, but Peter could tell she was a little tense.

He smiled back, but he pointed out, “Hasn’t it been three hours, Ms. Babs?”

“Oh! Has it been three hours already? I didn’t notice.”

lie

“...right,” was all Peter said. He noticed how more aggressive she was typing on her phone. She was trying to hide it, but Peter could clearly hear all her finger taps. Must be something urgent, he figured.

“I was getting hungry so I figured it was about time I head out.” Peter shrugged, and waved bye as he turned to the library doors. “Thanks again, Ms. Babs.”

“Peter, wait–” Barbara called out, and he stopped to look back at her as he heard the doors open behind him, accompanied by panting and a fast heartrate.

“Babs– I’m– made it!” The man that arrived exclaimed triumphantly. Peter turned to him out of curiosity, and his breath hitched.

“I couldn’t leave work fast enough, and the traffic was terrible.” The man rubbed the back of his neck as he chuckled nervously, while Peter stayed still as a stone. His mind raced as he stared at the man in front of him. It couldn’t be, how was he there?

The man’s gaze shifted to him, and Peter winced.

It’s him. It was definitely him– Peter would know his face anywhere– his wavy black hair, clear blue eyes, and the dimples on his face.

“...dad.” Peter muttered unintentionally, and his hands immediately jumped to cover his mouth. He turned away from the man and closed his eyes, trying hard to fight back the tears forming in his eyes.

He looked younger, even younger than the photos that were displayed in May and Ben’s apartment– but if Peter asked to see older photo albums, he would see the man standing before him. But how was his dad right there?

Peter wasn’t supposed to exist here. Peter Parker doesn’t exist, he shouldn’t exist in this universe– but his dad was here, a younger version of his dad existed, so does that mean Peter will eventually be born in this universe? Was he going to meet a baby version of himself someday? Was his variant gonna become a vigilante too, become Spider-Man?

–was his dad going to die all over again?

Was he going to lose everything one day?

“Hey…” His dad’s variant gently approached him and kneeled beside him. “Are you alright, kiddo?”

Peter pressed his lips thinly as he kept his eyes shut, and he shook his head when he intended to nod. He realised his mistake immediately.

“Kid, can you tell me what’s wrong?” His dad asked gently– and how badly he wanted to tell the truth– that he wasn’t okay, that he was hurting– that he missed him. Peter hadn’t even realised how much he missed his dad, or that he even missed him. It had been so long since his dad and his mom died that Peter figured he’d moved on from the passage of time.

But seeing his dad in this new universe where nothing was familiar, and he recognised nobody from home– his emotions came rushing onto him like a broken dam.

“Peter?” Barbara’s voice felt like a bucket of water, and it helped ground him. She was a reminder that he wasn’t dreaming, that he wasn’t in some fucked up illusion made by a psychotic jealous villain– actually, maybe he should check that.

Peter slowly opened his eyes, only to be surprised by a vision blurred by tears. He thought he successfully fought back his tears, but it turned out he failed miserably.

“Is something wrong, Peter?” Barbara asked, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned towards the spitting image of Richard Parker and reached his shaking hand out to the man’s shoulder.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief when he touched an actual person. He felt warm, his chest gently rose and fell with every breath, and Peter heard his heart beating clearly, though it was slightly elevated.

“You’re real.” Peter chuckled, and it felt like a weight was lifted off his chest.

“I am.” His dad’s variant wore a gentle smile. “How are you feeling, Peter?”

“A little better.” He answered truthfully as he wiped off his tears, then he realised, “Did I tell you my name?”

Peter thought he saw a deer-in-headlights expression in his dad's variant, but it disappeared as soon as it appeared, and he answered, “Babs called you Peter, so I figured that’s your name, unless it’s not…?” The man asked half-jokingly, and Peter shook his head.

“It’s my name. I’m Peter Par– Peter. Nice to meet you.” He stopped himself at the nick of time. He didn’t need the complication of letting his dad’s variant know they have the same last name when they shouldn’t have any relation.

The man looked like he caught Peter’s slip, but he didn’t call it out, and he offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Peter. My name is–” Richard Parker, he already knew.

“Dick Grayson.”

Peter froze.

Huh?

“Di-Dick?” Peter furrowed his brows, and he couldn’t stop the grimace that followed. “Your name is Dick?”

Not Richard.

Not Parker.

But Dick Grayson.

Richard–Dick? Dick nervously chuckled. “Yeah, I get that a lot. My legal name is Richard Grayson, but my parents called me Dick. My mom gave me the nickname and she didn’t realise what it meant in English, it was her second language.”

“Your-your mom? Your biological mom?” Peter’s ears perked at that. He didn’t know much about his biological grandparents other than they were acrobats in a travelling circus. This was the first time he's learned more about them.

“What-what was her first language?” He nervously asked. He didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask. He was just a random kid in Dick’s eyes– he wasn’t really his kid. Peter might have overstepped.

Despite his worries, the older man’s eyes sparkled, and he answered enthusiastically, “She spoke Romani. Have you heard of it before?”

Peter shook his head, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “I would like to learn a few words though.”

Dick chuckled as he messed up the boy’s hair. “That can be arranged, Pete.”

Peter tried to fight the smile crawling onto his face, but he lost anyway and even relaxed at the older man’s warmth. He immediately missed the caress when Dick took his hand back and stood up– and he realised how comfortable he was getting with a person who’s supposed to be a stranger. It was enough to snap Peter out of his delusion.

He shouldn’t have asked something personal from Dick. He shouldn’t get too ahead of himself.

Peter’s stomach growled again, and he remembered what he was supposed to do.

“I… I should get going.” Peter said as he stepped away from Dick and Barbara. “It was nice meeting you, Dick– Mr. Dick?” He remembered to use honorifics, but it was weird to use it for someone who would be his dad.

“Wait, Peter–” Barbara stopped him again, and she turned to her friend. “Dick, you were on the way to Batburger, weren’t you? Why don’t you bring Peter with you?”

“Great idea, Babs!” Dick immediately agreed, and Peter tensed.

“Oh no no no, you don’t need to do that.” Peter waved his hands defensively. “I have my own food, and– and I can’t pay you back.” And if he stayed any longer around Dick, he might forget that he couldn’t really get close to him.

“Don’t worry about money, Peter,” Barbara dismissed his worries. She leaned closer to him, and she half-whispered, “His dad is rich-rich. He can afford the city block around Batburger if he wanted to. He could buy the franchise if he wanted to, actually.”

Peter’s eyes flickered with surprise. That was a big difference from his universe. His dad was adopted by the humble Parker family. They weren’t poor, but they weren’t rich either– they lived a middle-class lifestyle. Either the Parkers were billionaires here, or his dad was adopted by a different family.

Dick rolled his eyes. “I’m going to pay with my own money, Babs. I may not be able to buy a city block, but I can afford eating out.”

Barbara chuckled as she turned her attention back to Peter. “So what do you say, Peter? You heard him, he’s volunteering.”

“I really have to refuse, Ms. Babs. I don’t want to take advantage.” Peter eyed the exit, and just noticed how the two adults’ positions were blocking off his immediate way out. He hadn’t realised.

“I insist, Peter. I’m meeting my siblings there after their classes. The more, the merrier.”

“Siblings?” Peter’s ears perked up. Did he mean Ben? Did Ben also exist in this universe? Were they still brothers?

No, if Dick wasn’t adopted by the Parkers here, he probably never met Ben– but his dad has siblings, plural. He wanted to know more about the family this variant of his dad had.

“I would be intruding.” Peter pointed out.

“They won’t mind at all. In fact, I have a brother your age, and I think he could benefit from knowing other kids his age.” Dick shrugged, but he could tell he wasn’t swaying Peter.

He sighed. “Alright, what about this? Let me buy you food, and we can sit in while we wait for my siblings. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, I won’t stop you from leaving.”

“I…” he hesitated, and his stomach growled again in protest.

“I guess a meal won’t hurt,” he finally conceded, and he heard Dick mutter a quiet but triumphant yes! Peter smiled. He supposed one meal with his dad’s variant wouldn’t hurt.

Dick said a quick bye to Barbara, and led the way to his parked car. The car wasn’t anything impressive, just an unassuming sedan that was probably a decade old model– it was certainly nothing like a billionaire’s son would be expected to be driving.

“You can put your bag in the backseat, Peter.” Dick told him as he opened the front passenger door and pulled the lock knob on the backseat door– verifying Peter’s assumption that this vehicle model was at least a decade old.

The older man held the rear door open for Peter. He nodded and gently placed his backpack in the backseat, before sitting shotgun. They drove fifteen minutes before the car was parked again.

Peter had brushed off what Barbara called the restaurant, and even thought he misheard because what the hell kinda restaurant was Batburger? Instead of beef, or chicken, or a vegetarian alternative– they used bat meat? Horrible marketing. Horrible imagery. But sitting parked in front of the building now, he finally got it.

“A fast-food restaurant themed around Batman? Really?” Peter remarked incredulously.

“Yep.” Dick made an exaggerated popping sound. “I take it you haven’t been?”

“Didn’t even know it existed! Didn’t know it could exist! I could imagine Superman, or Wonder Woman, or the Flash having a restaurant themed around them– but not Batman! What does the guy even think of all this?” Peter wildly gestured to the restaurant. “He gave off such a serious no-B.S. vibe, I cannot believe he would ever agree to this!”

Dick chuckled as he took off his seatbelt. “Come on, let’s go in.”

Peter unbuckled his seatbelt, then reached to the backseat for his backpack.

“I can carry that for you, if you want.” Peter tensed at the older man’s suggestion. He didn’t want to hand it over– his suit was inside.

“No, thank you, Mr. Dick. I can handle it. I’m actually stronger than I look.” Peter joked, not noticing his grip tightening on his bag, and he exited the car. The older man got off as well, and they unintentionally closed the car doors at the same time.

“You don’t have to call me mister, Peter. Dick is fine. Everybody else just calls me Dick anyways.” He shrugged.

Peter was glad the man called it out. It did sound weird, and felt like it highlighted that Dick’s name was– well, Dick– more than if there were no honorifics.

“Alright, no more honorifics. Just Dick.” Peter straightened his jacket, and they went inside the restaurant.

The menu was– as the Batburger name would suggest– based on Batman and his sidekicks. Batburgers were to be expected– there were even options for a deluxe and deluxe oversized version. There were also Night-wings–chicken wings, Peter figured– and Robin nuggets? And Riddle-me-fish? Killer Crocque monsieur?! Two-Face sandwich?!

“The chicken items are named after the bird heroes, har-har– but why do even the villains get food named after them?!” Peter exclaimed in disbelief as he gestured towards the overhead menu. He had read articles and articles about Gotham’s villain gallery– he knew what some of these named villains have done– the depth of their cruelty. One of their victims could walk in here and see the person who turned their life upside down has a sandwich named after them!

Imagine if his home universe had Ultron BLT, Loki salads, Punisher hotdogs, Hail HYDRA fries– or god forbid– taro-flavoured Thanos milk tea with popping boba the colour of the infinity stones!

“This world is ducked up, ducked up.” Peter muttered into his hands. “B needs to send whoever thought this restaurant was a good idea to Arkham. They couldn’t possibly be alright in the head.”

“B?” Dick’s ears perked up and he looked at Peter curiously.

“Oh, Batman. Heard a bunch of people use it to call the guy before.” Peter shrugged, and continued to look through the menu with a disgusted face. 

Dick slowly nodded and he made a mental note to himself, Don’t call Bruce B in front of Peter. He took out his phone and texted their group chat too as a precaution. He received a thumbs up from most of them and was left on seen by the rest. Then he received a new message.

BATCHAT

Duke: Classes just finished, we’ll be there in 10

Dick smiled and he put his phone back in his pocket. He looked back at Peter who still had an incredulous look on his face.

“Have you decided what you wanted, Peter?” He asked. Peter looked at him confused, like he wasn’t speaking the same language.

“What do you want to eat?” Dick rephrased, and Peter blinked before a flash of realisation struck him.

“Oh yeah, I was supposed to order– I’ll-I’ll just get the Night-wings.” Peter felt his face flush. “I’ll go find us some seats. I’ll come help take our food when it’s ready.” He waited for an affirmative before he speedwalked to an empty booth.

He had gotten caught up judging the absurd food names that he forgot he was supposed to pick one– but how could he when every new item he read made him side-eye and question the marketing team?! How was the place still in business?! Peter huffed and he rested his elbow on the table and propped his chin up with his hand. He quietly waited.

looking

Peter stopped himself from making eye contact– partly as practice for whenever he gets tailed by the Bats again, and partly because he was still embarrassed for his brain fart, though his ears remained alert.

He sprang up from his seat as soon as he heard their order was ready five minutes later and helped Dick bring the food to their table. They had three trays worth of food and an extra tray for five boxes covered in the store logo and question marks. The contents didn’t smell like food to Peter, rather they smelled like plastic.

They sat down at their booth, and Dick placed a whole bucket of chicken wings in front of Peter.

“Eat up, Peter.” The older man sounded enthusiastic, and Peter eyed the bucket. There were more chicken wings than he remembered reading on the menu. He looked at the menu over the counter and read the smaller print–six–then back at the bucket in front of him. It was at least double, maybe more.

“I got the family bucket,” Dick excitedly explained, solving Peter’s mystery.

“Oh.” Peter figured that the bucket was supposed to be shared and he took out four chicken wings and placed them on top of a piece of napkin. Dick’s eyes went wide as realised what he was doing and stopped him.

“No no, Peter. The whole bucket is for you. Just you.” The older man still wore a smile but he looked concerned.

“What? But I– I can’t eat all this. I’ll take just four–” Peter tried to refuse, but the older man shook his head.

“Then take the rest to go. Eat what you can and save what’s left for dinner.” Dick placed a hand on his shoulder and assured him. “It’s alright to just accept, Peter.”

Peter furrowed his brows. He felt conflicted. On one hand, he was thankful for the food–his heightened metabolism even more so– but on the other, he felt bad for being someone to be pitied. Dick was already paying for his food for free, he didn’t like that Dick was spending more on him.

“Al-alright. I’ll take it.” Peter conceded, and he ate his chicken wings. Dick just smiled at him again.

Peter’s eyes regularly glanced over at the older man sitting across him, but he’d look away just as fast. It was weird– sitting at a table with a man who has your dead dad’s face, and the man doesn’t even know that in another universe he was Peter’s dad.

He was so out of his league.

Should he talk more? Should he try to know more about this version of his dad? What questions could he even ask that wouldn’t sound weird from a total stranger? What do you even ask your dead dad’s variant? Can you ask him normal dad stuff? What even counted as normal dad stuff? Did the stuff he asked Ben count? What did he even talk to Ben about other than mundane stuff? He could try talking to Dick like he talked with Tony– but they mostly talked about tech and engineering–and hero stuff. Peter couldn’t talk about that to a civilian, and he didn’t even know if Dick had the same job his dad had– actually, he could start there.

He looked at Dick who was about to take another bite from his Batburger, and he asked, “Dick, what do you do for work?” 

The older man’s eyes seemed to sparkle at his question, and he answered, “Oh, I’m a cop in Bludhaven, but I also coach gymnastics and acrobatics to kids on my off days.”

Peter smiled. Despite the glaring differences, there were still similarities between his dad and Dick. “My dad was an acrobat when he was a kid. He used to be part of a circus.”

“Me too! My parents and I were in a travelling circus when I was a kid.” Dick had a big grin on his face, but it was tinged with bittersweetness when he mentioned his parents. Peter knew his biological grandparents died during a big accident, it must’ve been the same in this universe.

“What about you? Do you do acrobatics too like your dad?”

“I guess you could say that. I can do some tricks,” Peter downplayed his abilities, but he was actually really proud of it. He had always been enamored by the art that his dad and biological grandparents shared, but he only took up the sport seriously after getting his powers, to supplement being Spider-Man. Putting it into practice as Spider-Man felt like paying tribute to his lineage.

“I take after dad more on the science side. He was a biochemist– I want to be a bioengineer.” He was on track for it too, until Beck and the ruined spell happened.

Dick’s eyes sparkled in fascination. “You must be a smart kid, Peter.”

The smile on his face fell, and he grimaced. It wasn’t an insult, but the remark cut into Peter. He clenched his jaw, and his hands balled into fists.

“I get told that a lot, but I’m starting to doubt if it’s even true. I’ve… messed up so much. My life isn’t what it’s supposed to be because of decisions I made. If I was smarter, if I was better–”

If he was faster, stronger– he could have gotten the gauntlet off at Titan, they wouldn’t have lost the first time– Tony and Natasha wouldn’t have needed to make the ultimate sacrifice. If he was actually smart, Beck wouldn’t have tricked him into handing over EDITH. If he was smarter, he would have realised that Goblin would try to sabotage his cure. May wouldn’t have needed to die. He would still be with his family, with May, and Ned and MJ– with Tony, with Natasha, with the Avengers– they wouldn’t have needed to forget he ever existed.

“Strong enough to have it all, too weak to take it.” Goblin’s words echoed in his mind, and he asked himself–

“Would they still be alive?” Peter’s voice hitched.

Dick’s eyes flickered with regret.

He recognised the blank look on the kid’s face. He saw it in the mirror after his parents died. He had seen it after every mission where someone had to die. He saw it on his brothers– on Jason, on Tim– and when Damian finally felt comfortable around him, he saw it on his youngest brother too. He saw it in Steph, Cass, and Duke.

The look of someone playing a scene in their mind over and over, trying to figure out what they could have done differently. Replaying what-ifs in their head, unknowingly running themselves down, not realising that all they were doing was hurting themselves.

“You don’t know that, Peter.” His words made the kid look up at him. “We can never really know if doing something differently would mean a better outcome. It might be better, but it might also be worse. It might be the only outcome– no matter what you could have done, nothing would have changed. You can’t change the past, you can’t fix it. But what you can do is stop blaming yourself for what already happened.”

Peter furrowed his brows. He wanted to say that Dick was wrong, that there was a way. The multiverse existed– he’d met his variants, he’d met Dick–his dad’s variant– he was talking to an alternate universe version of his dad– nothing could be impossible at this point. Surely, there was some way in the multiverse to fix his past.

But the Avengers had already proven that there was no changing the past. They couldn’t just jump into the past and stop Thanos before he could obtain the stones. It wouldn’t change anything– the future had already been set.

“Easier said than done,” he huffed.

Dick gave him a reassuring smile. “I didn’t say it would be.”

There were a couple of minutes of comfortable silence between them before the restaurant doors opened behind Peter, and he heard four heartbeats enter. Dick’s face lit up and he waved down the new arrivals.

Peter looked behind him and saw three guys and one girl. The eldest of the four had a lean build, black hair, and light blue eyes like Dick, though his were paired with deep eyebags. The youngest boy looked around Peter’s current age. He had dark hair and green eyes, and he had a complexion a few shades darker than Dick’s. The third guy was black and had an athletic build. He had dark hair and brown eyes. The last and only female member of the group had shoulder-length blonde hair and green eyes.

The girl cheerily waved at Dick and Peter, and he waved back in response. “Hi. I’m Peter. Dick invited me to eat with you guys. I hope I’m not intruding or anything.”

“You’re totally not, Peter! My name is Stephanie, but you can call me Steph.” She introduced herself as she took the seat beside him and shook his hand, while the youngest boy sat on Peter’s other side. The scowl on his face hadn’t wavered since they arrived, and Peter noted the way he looked at him– like he was studying him, trying to read him. It reminded Peter of the look in Bucky’s face when they had to face a new but dangerous opponent– the sharp gaze of a predator.

“Hi? My name’s Peter.” He tried to break the awkward tension and offer a handshake, but he didn’t get a response. The kid just kept glaring at him.

“That demon is Damian, don’t mind him, he’s always like that–” Steph pointed at the youngest. She received a Tt from the kid but she ignored it and pointed at the other two boys. “And these are Tim and Duke.”

“It’s so nice to meet the newest addition to the family!” She suddenly joked, leaving Peter’s mouth agape and surprising half the table. Dick even choked on his drink in shock.

“St-Steph!” Duke scolded her, but her smug grin didn’t falter.

“I was joking! Unless B–ruce actually acts up on it. We all know he has a problem.” She huffed as she grabbed her Batburger and Bat-fries and started eating.

Peter figured that Bruce was their adopted dad. The first face that came to his mind was Bruce Banner– the Hulk, but he felt like there’s another Bruce that he was forgetting. He’d figure it out later.

“So you’re all siblings? You were all adopted?”

“Not all of us,” Steph answered. “Only Dick and Tim are legally adopted, they also have another brother and a sister. Duke’s a legal ward– for now, at least. And I’m not adopted or a legal ward, but I hang out with them a lot and have a room at their place. Damian is the only biological son.”

Peter smiled. Even if his dad’s family wasn’t the Parkers, even if Ben wasn’t his brother, Peter was glad to know his dad still had a great family. It’s not his family, but maybe he could imagine having a family as big as this.

“That’s actually so cool how you’re a big family.” The closest he ever got to a family like this was the Avengers. Nobody said it out loud, but Peter hoped they all thought the same.

“So tell us about yourself, Peter. Where do you go to school? Any hobbies, interests? What do you like to do for fun?” Steph asked as everybody dug into their foods.

“Oh, I was actually talking to Dick about that.” Peter swallowed before continuing. “I dabble in acrobatics, and I also do science stuff. I hoped to get a degree in bioengineering.”

Steph pressed her lips to a thin line, trying to suppress her excitement, and she playfully elbowed him. “Oh, you are so going to fit right in, Peter.”

Peter chuckled as he took another chicken wing from his bucket, then he answered the other question. “As for school, my uncle and I are still kinda trying to sort out transferring to a new school district and moving to a new city. I moved here three days ago.”

“Uncle, huh. What does he do?” Tim asked. The question earned him wary looks from his family.

Peter shrugged. “He used to be a surgeon, but he’s in a different field now.”

“Used to be? So what does he do now?” Tim pressed.

Peter stopped mid-chew and tilted his head. He didn’t expect he’d need to elaborate on his fictional uncle’s job, though it made sense that people would get curious. There would come a point where he’d need to give more information than just “he’s Stephen.” People might suspect whether Stephen even existed if he didn’t figure out a better backstory. He’d take the opportunity to elaborate on his lies with them.

He thought about what Stephen did as Sorcerer Supreme–defending their universe’s Earth from mystic and interdimensional threats–and tried to think of an appropriate comparison to a civilian occupation.

Peter swallowed and answered, “He’s the head of security at his job.”

“Head of security… that’s a very big jump from surgeon.” Tim remarked, and Peter nodded.

“It is. He couldn’t continue being a surgeon after a big accident, so he pivoted to working in security after realising he had talent in that.” Peter thought to use Stephen’s actual backstory for fictional Uncle Stephen.

…wary…

Peter paused as he noticed the suddenly unsteady heartbeats of the table’s occupants. Their expressions were neutral and their breathing was slow–almost normal even, but he could tell they were tense. His eyes narrowed– but quickly glanced down as a hand abruptly pushed his bucket of Night-wings away and placed one of the mystery boxes in front of him. He looked beside him, at the teen boy who had scowled at him since they met.

“What is this?”

“Unbox it,” he commanded. “Let’s see which figure you got.”

Peter blinked, then frowned at his tone. “Why?”

“It is a custom to open Batburger’s mystery boxes and see which member of Batman’s team you get. You haven’t opened yours, correct?” Peter remembered the smell of plastic earlier, and he connected the dots. Inside the box were kids’ toys.

“I’m not a kid. I’m eig– I’m fourteen. That’s not a kid. You’re probably younger than me.”

Damian smirked. “I’m fifteen. I am older than you.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. If only you knew, kid, if only you knew, he thought. Yet despite his protest, his hands had already begun to open the box and took out the figure wrapped in plastic. The figure was–

“Nightwing.” He didn’t intend to say the name with so much venom, but he did– and the eldest at the table couldn’t help but choke on his drink again. 

“Do you have something against Bludhaven’s protector?” Damian raised a brow, and Peter grimaced. He felt conflicted about Nightwing. On the one hand, people seem to have nothing but great things to say about him– on the other, his stalking problem started because of him.

“He’s fine. It’s nothing.” Peter lied through gritted teeth.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing, do tell.” Damian sounded amused.

“No, thank you. I’ll pass.” Peter hadn’t sensed any watching gazes on him– either from miles away or from the cameras– but there was no stopping them from watching back and listening in on footage from the cameras in the restaurant.

Steph was trying to stifle her laugh when she asked– mostly jokingly– “Well, do you dislike any other Bats? Or does Nightwing only have the pleasure of your detestment?”

Peter looked at her, blinked, and squared his shoulders as he remembered the other bird hero that had wronged him. “Red Robin.”

His answer broke the dam, and Steph couldn’t stop her laugh. Duke was laughing too, while Damian had an amused smirk as he looked at Tim, who was avoiding eye contact and had crossed his arms, looking like he wanted to shrink. Dick also looked away as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Peter couldn’t hold the deadpan expression on his face, and he gave into the chuckle that brewed at the back of his throat. He didn’t even know what was funny, the comfortable laughter just infected him.

A loud ringtone suddenly interrupted the sounds of laughter. Dick and the others looked around for the source of the nearby audio, until their eyes landed on Peter taking out a tablet from his backpack. A press of the power button turned off the sound.

“Sorry, that was me.” Peter stood up from his seat. “I have to run some errands before curfew, so I hope it’s alright if I leave early.”

“Aww, no, Peter, stay for a little more?” Steph whined.

Dick sprang up, and he offered, “Do you need a ride, Peter? I can drop you off where you need to go.”

“No, no need for that.” Peter waved his hands defensively. “I’ll just take the subway."

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He insisted.

Peter nodded. “Yep. You already bought me food, this is already a lot for me.”

He took out the black jacket he got from Red Hood and slipped it on– he felt surprised gazes on him as he put it on, but he figured it was because two jackets were overkill for the weather–for the normal person anyway. He stowed his bucket of Night-wings in his backpack, along with a few pieces of napkins, and swung his bag over his shoulders.

“Thanks again for the food, Dick. It was really nice meeting you. It was nice meeting all of you.” Peter backed away and turned towards the door.

“Tt. Don’t forget your Nightwing, Peter.” Damian tutted before he heard a whipping sound, and his hand moved on its own and caught it before he even looked back. The table looked stunned at his quick reaction time, but Peter chose to act like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Uhm, thanks,” was all he said before running towards the door.

Chapter Text

“We-we all saw that, right?” Duke stammered as he waited for Dick and Tim to confirm that he indeed saw Peter catch the Nightwing toy without looking. He received quiet stares before Dick and Tim pulled out their phones, then Steph and Damian followed suit– and he remembered what they had discussed that morning. They weren’t sure of the scope of Peter’s enhanced hearing yet, so as a precaution, their main channel for communication would be through text messages.

BATCHAT

Duke: We all saw that, right?

Duke: Peter caught the Nightwing figure without looking?

Timmy: We did

Timmy: I’ll add enhanced reflexes to Peter’s list of powers

In truth, they haven’t actually had a proper briefing about approaching Peter– they were supposed to have the meeting before patrol that night. They did have a short discussion about how they’d discreetly communicate around Peter during breakfast, then Alfred shut their work talk down after that.

It was fortunate that they even had that planned, because they hadn’t expected their chance to get close to Peter to come so soon. They couldn't track him, they had no idea where he hung around yet–they knew nothing about him–so when Barbara started spamming their group chat that Peter was back in the library, it was an opportunity they didn’t want to waste.

And they almost did!

Duke, Steph, and Damian were stuck in school, Tim was stuck in meeting after meeting that he had already pushed back for weeks–he couldn’t reschedule them anymore! It wasn’t like Bruce Wayne could just drop by a public library for no apparent reason– the press would be at their throats and releasing stories about “New Wayne kid?!” the day after. And Dick was stuck at his own job a whole city over!

They were fortunate enough that Peter stayed in the library for four hours researching who knew what–that was a whole other mystery for later–and Dick had enough time to drive over.

Steph: i’m surprised he actually joined dick to batburger, what did you do to convince him?

Dickie: he was hungry. He was about to leave when I got to the library

Steph: xDDD didn’t jason also convince him to comeby offering food? I guess we know his weakness we should give him alfred’s cooking next time

Dick chuckled, but a lump formed in the back of his throat as he remembered Peter’s terrified face covered in tears back at the library.

“There was also something else…” He muttered without realising, and his siblings looked at him confused. He explained on the group chat.

Dickie: he cried when he saw me

Dickie: at first, I thought he got scared and recognized me as Nightwing, but he was relieved when he got a closer look at my face

Dick clenched his jaw.

Dickie: he thought I wasn’t real

“That sounds ominous,” Steph couldn’t help remark aloud. At the same time, the Typing bubble appeared beside Barbara’s profile.

Babs: Peter looked like he saw a ghost

Babs: Dick, do you think Peter knows you?

Dick paused. He hadn’t considered that, but where would Peter know him? What could possibly make the kid react like that?

Dickie: he didn’t even know my name was Dick

Dickie: how would he know me, but not know my name?

Babs: he knew you were adopted, didn’t he?

Dick's brows furrowed. That’s right– Peter knew he was adopted, he asked about his biological mom. He thought it was because he knew Dick Grayson was Bruce Wayne’s oldest adopted son, but Peter was surprised by his name.

Babs: he also seemed more comfortable around you, he almost said his last name, Par-something

Babs: i think he does know you, Dick

Dick’s brows furrowed deeper. He didn’t know who Peter was–that was part of the problem, they had nothing on the kid–but Peter was familiar with Dick. Why? How? His reaction to seeing Dick felt like a big clue– so what did Peter see?

Demon: Had Peter shared more information before we arrived?

Dick began typing out his response– about Peter’s dad being a biochemist and a former acrobat– when the Typing bubble appeared again, but beside a profile that was barely ever active in the chat.

LurkingJay: What.

LurkingJay: The.

LurkingJay: Fuck.

LurkingJay: You met with Peter?!

Steph: jason! welcome to the batchat!

Steph: nice of you to join us!

LurkingJay: I’m only replying in the group chat because I saw Peter’s name repeatedly in my notifications!

LurkingJay: It’s only been a fucking day since the kid told you to stay the fuck away, Dickwing! You couldn’t wait more than 48 hours?!

Dickie: it was our chance to get close to Peter, Jay, we couldn’t waste it

There was a pause in the barrage of messages from Jason, then the Typing bubble reappeared, and he resumed.

LurkingJay: What the fuck?! This group chat has messages about Peter from five hours ago?! Are you all participating in a stalking championship or something?!

Timmy: I thought you were on-board with the plan?

LurkingJay: I didn’t fucking agree to anything yet! We were supposed to talk about this later! So why did you meet Peter so fucking soon?!

LurkingJay: Are you still with Peter?! Are you all fucking texting behind his back while he’s right beside you?!

Dickie: no, he left a while ago, he said he had errands to run

LurkingJay: And you’re not following him?

Dickie: no, we’re still at Batburger

LurkingJay: Good. So you still have some sense in you, Dickwing.

Dick eyed his brother’s message incredulously as the Typing bubble appeared beside Tim’s profile.

Timmy: Babs, any news on Peter? Did he really take the subway?

Babs: yep, subway cameras just caught Peter. He's getting on a train line heading south

Babs: I think he’s heading back to the Diamond District

LurkingJay: Don’t even think about following him again, Bruce.

The Typing bubble appeared again, this time beside Bruce’s profile.

B: We will continue this discussion at the cave. Duke, do not forget you still have patrol.

Duke sprang up from his seat and he cursed, “Oh shit! I almost forgot! Dick, please please please, drive me to the manor?”

Dick let out a chuckle. “I’m driving you all to the manor either way. Come on, let’s go.”

The Batcomputer emitted a low, steady hum. It sounded gentle, almost rhythmic, one that Dick had completely tuned it out as he stared at the screen showing their file on Peter. Their ongoing search for information about Peter and Stephen hadn’t yielded any results yet, so all entries on the file were only from what the kid had told them and their own observations of him.

Peter–he refused to let them know his last name, but let it slip that it started with ‘Par’–was a conundrum.

He had his walls raised high, yet he was also an open book. He didn’t have a problem trusting Nightwing, a vigilante he hadn’t even heard of– but also immediately escalated when he believed he was being stalked by the Bats, like he was afraid they would find something. He was apprehensive of Red Hood because he thought he was in Batman’s team, but also openly confided about being acquainted with assassins. And he was comfortable enough with Dick–a total stranger–to tell him about his dad and his interests. It was a coin flip whether Peter would be open to them or not.

“Can I trust you?”

“You’re real.”

Dick sighed deeply as Peter’s tear-stained face flickered in his mind. He was still trying to figure out why Peter had to make sure that he was real, what he could have seen in the library.

“Chum, is something the matter?” Dick’s head snapped to his father’s voice and found Bruce coming from the direction of the locker room, already in his suit but with his cowl hanging around his neck.

Dick rubbed the inner corner of his brows and he denied, “No, nothing’s wrong. Just looking over Peter’s file.”

Bruce quietly stared at him, his eyes narrowed so slightly that the normal person wouldn’t even notice– but his kids all noticed it, and Dick felt like it was boring a hole through his head. He sighed. “What Babs said earlier was just bugging me, her theory that Peter might know me.”

“...hn.” His father just grunted, as the rest of their family walked in from the stairs to the manor. The only ones not present were Duke and Cass, who were patrolling while they convened. They would be briefed once they returned. Soon, they heard the distinct thrum of a motorcycle pulling up to the cave, and Jason joined them a few seconds later. 

“Alright, you have ten seconds to explain before I let Peter know his new friends from Batburger were sent by the Bats and you guys lose any chance of getting close to him as civilians.” Jason threatened as he pulled his helmet off.

“Wouldn’t that just feed into his paranoia?” Tim pointed out behind him, and Jason slowly turned his head to glare at him.

“Nine seconds, choose your words wisely,” Jason growled. “Eight, seven…”

“Jason, that’s enough,” Bruce admonished. “We already discussed why we needed to get closer to Peter, we needed to know more–”

“And I get that part, Bruce!” Jason cut him off. “But what the hell were you all thinking, pouncing at the kid at the earliest opportunity? You’re all about preparing, so why did you just dive head first into meeting Peter? What if– what if one of you slipped and he figured out something was up? That you were sent by the people he has very little trust in? What would you have done then?”

“You were just threatening to tell him about us–” Tim remarked incredulously before he was cut off by Jason.

“Shut it, Tim.”

Damian scoffed. “You have very little faith, Todd. Though it is well-founded.” He looked pointedly at Steph and narrowed his eyes. “I seem to remember Brown almost referring to Father as B despite Richard’s warning. Not to mention, her unnecessary adoption joke.”

Steph looked at him defensively. “He didn’t realise it, did he? So we’re in the clear. And it was just a lighthearted joke to make Peter feel welcomed.”

“I warned you not to underestimate him.” Damian narrowed his eyes. “Peter is sharp– he may not have realised your fumble today, but he may remember it one day and realise what you meant. And have you failed to realise that he noticed when you all went tense at the mention of Stephen? If I hadn’t acted fast and distracted him with the Batburger toy, he would have realised we knew more than we let on.”

“And there’s my point!” Jason gestured to Damian and Steph in exasperation before he turned away to run his hand through his hair, though it had the unintended effect of meeting Bruce’s stern but forbearing gaze.

“What’s done is done.” Bruce looked directly at his son, whose gaze didn’t falter. Then he turned in the direction of his other children, his voice steady and kind yet held authority. “This will serve as a lesson and a reminder, so when any of you meet Peter again, you won’t make the same mistakes.”

Bruce sat in front of the computer, and he pulled up footage from the library and Batburger– courtesy of Barbara. Bruce and Dick had the chance to watch the footage from Batburger so they were already aware, but the rest of them who saw for the first time immediately noticed– Peter’s seat was a blindspot and couldn’t be seen from any camera angle, either hidden by a partition, hanging lights, or a poster.

Jason narrowed his eyes at the collected footage, even as he crossed the few feet of distance between him and the monitor displaying Peter’s file. He came to a stop beside the chair where Dick was seated, his arms crossed as he scrutinised the footage.

“You guys really aren’t beating allegations, you know that?” Jason teased, earning him stares from his siblings. “And you couldn’t get any angles where the kid shows up, Babs?”

“These are all the cameras that had their table in view, Jason.” Barbara’s voice came from the computer. “Peter chose the table too, he knew he wouldn’t be seen in that seat.”

She let out a long sigh. “Peter hasn’t exactly made it easy to find him through cameras, and when he does let us see him, it’s on his own terms, but this… the kid is just being petty.”

Jason smirked. “That’s what you get for stalking the kid.”

“Whatever. We already went through this.”

Jason rolled his eyes as he reviewed Peter’s file. They finally had a last name for him–Par–but it was followed by a question mark. Jason remembered seeing a mention of that from the group chat, that the kid almost told them his last name. The other notable change in the document was Stephen’s occupation– before it only said ‘Doctor?’ but now, it said ‘Head of security, former surgeon.’

“Anything else on Stephen?” Jason asked as he scrolled to the bottom where a section was labelled Additional notes. Two new lines had been added, but only one stood out to him, and he furrowed his brows.

‘Recognised Dick, but didn’t know his name.’

The gnawing feeling Jason had at the Crime Alley shelter came back at full force, and his hand clamped over his chin and mouth.

“No,” his dad answered. “But Peter provided enough information to help refine our searches. Barbara is running them as we speak.” Bruce swiveled his chair to meet his son’s gaze, only to stop abruptly as he saw Jason’s uneasy expression.

“What is it, chum?” he asked.

“What does this mean?” Jason pointed at the screen as he looked at Bruce and his siblings. “‘Recognised Dick, but didn’t know his name’ what does that mean?” 

“It’s better to show you.” Barbara spoke through the computer and enlarged the camera footage from the library. It showed the moment when Dick burst through the doors and Peter froze.

“I couldn’t leave work fast enough, and the traffic was terrible.” Dick’s voice emanated clearly in the footage. He seemed oblivious at how still Peter had become until his gaze landed on him– and the kid suddenly turned around and began shaking.

The video showed Barbara and Dick immediately rushing to the kid’s side, worried but careful not to spook him.

“Hey… are you alright, kiddo?” Dick gently asked, and the kid’s head immediately shook. Then he followed up by asking, “Kid, can you tell me what’s wrong?” And Peter’s shoulders immediately tensed and trembled violently.

Peter suddenly stilled when Barbara called his name. His eyes opened, but he ignored her question. Instead, he looked at Dick and reached his shaking hand out to his shoulder.

“You’re real.” It was caught by less-than-adequate microphones on a security camera, but even so, the relief and vulnerability in Peter’s voice could be heard clear as day. Jason caught the pained look on his brother out of the corner of his eyes.

The footage paused there, and Barbara spoke, “Peter looked like he saw a ghost. He definitely knew Dick, but when he said his name, Peter sounded surprised.”

The footage sped up for a bit until the part where Peter and Dick introduced themselves to each other. Then Barbara let the rest of the footage play out until the point where Peter tried to leave again.

Tim grabbed his chin as looked at the screen. “His surprise at his name could just be because Dick is usually called Richard Grayson by the media, but that doesn’t explain the whole you’re real thing.”

Stephanie tilted her head. “He also seems more comfortable around Dick, he looks a lot more relaxed here and at Batburger compared to all the other times we’ve seen him.” 

“I asked Cass to watch the footage when she returns from patrol, she’ll tell us what she can read from Peter’s body language.” Bruce’s gaze shifted back to Jason, and his eyes narrowed. His son still had that uneasy expression– his lips were pressed to a thin line, and his brows deeply furrowed, but now his eyes held the look of a man on the edge of a breakthrough. He must’ve known something they didn’t.

“Jason,” Bruce called his son’s name. His green eyes flickered, like he was suddenly dragged back to the present.

“…what if he knew Dick by a completely different name? Not Dick Grayson or even Richard Grayson?” Jason blurted out, and he looked pointedly at his siblings. “Did he say anything else– he talked about his dad, what else did he say?”

An uneasy silence fell over the room. They collectively made the connection between Jason’s two questions. And as if on cue, the footage from Batburger played, and Peter’s voice hit them like a bucket of ice water.

“My dad was an acrobat when he was a kid. He used to be part of a circus.”

Deafening silence followed as collective realisation washed over their faces. Dick’s eyes snapped to the large screen– Peter’s anecdote that he’d easily brushed off felt like a weight on his chest.

The colour drained from his face as the footage continued to play, and his own past voice ringing out to mock him.

“Me too! My parents and I were in a travelling circus when I was a kid.”

The footage finally paused, and Barbara’s camera flipped on as her voice rang through the computer. “Jason, is this why you asked me if I thought Peter looked like somebody? Did you mean Dick?”

The air felt suffocating with the implication. Bruce’s face tightened as his gaze shifted to Dick. His eldest son’s eyes were still fixed on the screen, and chest heaving shallowly. Bruce then looked to Jason, who had an uneasy expression as he anticipated his older brother’s reaction.

“Jason.” Bruce’s commanding voice cut through the heavy silence. “What exactly made you suspect that Peter was related to Dick? Was it the resemblance alone?” Nobody else had noticed that Peter looked like Dick– it would have been impossible to jump to this conclusion without any other evidence.

Jason hesitated. He shifted his weight nervously. “No… kind of– look, it was just a feeling. I didn’t think the kid could actually be Dick’s son–”

“Because it’s impossible!” Dick shot to his feet. He dragged a shaking hand through his hair, then leaned heavily on the console for support. “How– how could Peter be my son? I-I would have been thirteen when he was born!” Then his head snapped to Jason’s direction. “And how long have you thought he was my son? You have been the number one advocate for us staying away from Peter! But this whole time, you thought he was my son?!”

Jason raised his hands defensively. "I didn’t think my theory had solid ground– it was more of a fleeting resemblance and I thought I imagined it. That’s why I didn't want to say anything until I was sure, or until anybody else saw it. I’m sorry, Dick, I didn’t want to freak you out only to find out I was wrong.”

Dick snapped, “Well, I’m freaking out right now!”

“Dick, focus.” Bruce’s tone was calm but stern and served to ground his son. “We need to find the full truth, not panic over the impossible.”

“Wait, what about what Peter said about his parents?” Steph interjected. “He said his dad was a biochemist– and Jason, didn’t Peter tell you that his parents died when he was six? Did he just lie about that?”

Both brothers looked at her. They contemplated what she said, and Dick’s eyes went wide. “Time travel? Is Peter my son from the future?”

Dick’s blood ran cold as a heavier realisation hit him– six. Peter lost his parents when he was only six.

The world beneath his feet seemed to shift, his vision narrowed– and for a split moment, he thought he was back to that fateful night, at Haly’s Circus, surrounded by horrified screams. But now, the child standing alone over his parents’ blood was Peter– and he was the one lifeless on the floor.

A sudden, grounding pressure pulled Dick out of his own head. He hadn’t realised he almost stumbled until his dad had caught his shoulders. His eyes met with Bruce’s unwavering gaze, and his dad’s blue eyes anchored him.

“Bruce… he lost me. I died and left him.” Dick said through a shaky breath.

Bruce didn’t flinch. He could infer what could have passed through his son’s mind, and he knew it wasn’t anything good– but he couldn’t afford to let his shock show. Dick was seeking an anchor, and he had to be that for him. Bruce’s grip on his shoulders tightened, and he didn’t look away. His blue eyes held Dick’s gaze.

“You didn’t leave him, Dick. Whatever may have happened, you didn’t choose to leave him. I know you would never choose to leave your child.”

Bruce waited for his son to internalise what he’d said– for focus to return to his eyes and for his weight to return to his own two feet, then he gradually eased his grip. Dick’s weight shifted back to his feet, but his dad didn’t let go yet.

“You alright now, chum?” Dick answered the question with a firm nod. Bruce cautiously withdrew his support, though he remained by his son’s side.

A hand landed on Dick’s shoulder, and he turned his head only to find Jason standing on his other side. “You’re not that kind of dad, Dickwing. Relax.” Jason gave a reassuring half-smile, even as the faint toxic hue in his eyes seemed to intensify for a second and his hands trembled ever so slightly.

Dick took a shaky breath. He pressed his fingers against his eyes– they felt cold– but it only helped him focus on what was important. He gripped the console’s edge so hard his knuckles turned white. “We… I, I have to find Peter.” He looked up at the Batcomputer and urgently asked, “Babs, where is he now?”

“Hold on.” Tim’s voice held no hesitation, cutting through the heavy atmosphere. “I need to stop you before you get ahead of yourself.”

Tim wet his lips, bracing himself for what he’s about to drop on his brother. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive. You’ve already got it in your head that he’s your future son– but there’s a lot about this ‘future son’ theory that just doesn’t add up.”

Tim stepped forward and asked his older brother– “First and foremost, Peter said his dad was a biochemist. Are you thinking of taking up biochemistry anytime soon? Have you even thought about going back to college at all?”

Dick didn’t answer. Rather, he couldn’t answer. Like most of his family, college didn’t interest him–he may have even felt like going would be a hindrance. There may have been a time when he wanted to go, but he was satisfied with his jobs as a daytime cop and as Nightwing.

“Secondly,” Tim continued, giving his older brother a scrutinising look, “Can you ever imagine stopping being Nightwing?”

Dick furrowed his brows, and he answered confidently, “No. I don’t think I will ever stop.”

“I didn’t think so, either.” Tim gave an assuring smile. “Think about it. Peter didn’t break down crying when he met Nightwing– you said he hadn’t even heard of Nightwing before– so he likely doesn’t know you’re Nightwing. If he’s from the future, he would have known that.”

“But I died–” He choked on his words. Bruce’s hands hovered beside him, ready to catch him again, but Dick shook his head and pushed his father’s arms away, signalling he was fine.

“I died when Peter was only six, I probably didn’t even have the chance to tell him. He wouldn’t have known.”

“And none of us ever told him?” Tim argued. “Whether you died on-duty or off, Peter is old enough for one of us to tell him who you were, so why wouldn’t we? His story about an Uncle Ben doesn’t make any sense either. Who is Ben? If you died when he was a kid, why didn’t Peter end up with any of us? Why wouldn’t you trust him with Jason, or Bruce, or even me. I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Something could have happened to all of us,” Bruce stated grimly. “Ben could be a friend in the future. Dick could change his mind about college. We don’t know what’s in store for the future.”

“And that is all still possible, but–” Tim stepped in front of the Batcomputer’s console and brought up the program set to monitor changes in space and time. It showed no spike, proving his point– “If there had been any temporal anomalies, the systems in the Watchtower would have caught it and the Batcomputer would have notified us. Not to mention, we would have heard from the Speedsters when Peter came to our time.”

“So no, he couldn’t possibly be from the future.” Tim confidently stated, crossing his arms and coolly leaning against the console.

Dick didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved to know that he didn’t leave his kid orphaned– to regret that a kid he believed was his wasn’t his– or to grieve that he wasn’t the father Peter believed he was. He felt lost.

Jason’s grip tightened on his shoulder, and Dick realised he almost stumbled again. “You need to sit down, Dickwing,” his brother insisted. Dick gave a firm nod, allowing his brother to assist him to a chair.

Jason turned back to Tim, and in a grim tone, pressed, “Alright, Timbo, if you don’t think Peter is Dick’s son from the future, how do you explain why his dad’s story is the same? And why he would look at Dick like he saw a ghost?”

Tim squared his shoulders and explained, “What if they were false memories? What if whoever planted his memories used Dick’s likeness for Peter’s dad? And if he remembers his parents dying, it would make sense why he was surprised to see Dick, why he thought he wasn’t real– why he believed he was seeing a ghost.”

“That’s one tough kid,” Steph commented– and she felt the murderous glare directed at the back of her head, but she ignored it and joked, “I personally would have started freaking out if I thought I saw my dad’s ghost, and not gone with him to Batburger–” then her voice turned serious as she realised– “So why didn’t he?”

“Maybe he knows that his memories are fake.” Tim posited. “They would still feel real to him– enough to elicit a strong reaction, but he would know it was possible for who he believed to be his dad to still be alive. It would also explain why he trusted you so easily.”

Dick furrowed his brows. “So I’m not really Peter’s dad? Someone, somewhere out there just used my face to make this kid believe I was his dad– believe I’m dead, that I died when he was only a little boy– to torment him, for some kind of sick pleasure?!” His hands fisted at his sides.

“Dick, you need to calm down.” Bruce placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and reminded him, “You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment– this is all still conjecture, and we don’t know why they would do that.”

“We don’t know why, Bruce?! We both know why! Because it hurts! Someone out there wanted to hurt this kid! Make him believe his parents are gone– make him believe that strangers were his mom and dad– who will disappoint him when he tries to run up to them and they don’t know who the hell he is!”

He disappointed Peter– that was the root of Dick’s frustration. He didn’t recognise the story of Peter’s dad as his story, nor did he realise how Peter longed for his dad–for him–why else would Peter go to Batburger with him?

He hurt Peter for not recognising him as his child– even if it was in made-up memories. He failed him.

A heavy silence followed Dick’s outburst. The only sound was the low, rhythmic drip deep in the cave, and the steady indifferent hum of the Batcomputer.

Jason gently patted his brother’s shoulder as he stepped forward. He looked down at their father with his glowing green eyes and sided with Dick. “He’s right, B. This is someone’s twisted game– someone went out of their way to make this kid hurt.”

Tim’s shoulders hunched, but his gaze remained sharp as he looked at his brothers. Their emotions were clouding their judgment, and it was up to him to force the conversation back on track. “You’re missing the bigger reason why they used Dick’s face. Peter may still be Dick’s son, just not from the future.”

He turned back to the Batcomputer’s console, and he brought up their file on Kon-El, Superman’s adoptive brother.

“What does Conner have anything to do with Peter?” Dick asked, confused.

“Peter could be a clone,” Tim proposed. “It would explain why you were chosen to be his dad in his false memories– and it would also explain his age. The people who made him may have aged him up, he may not actually be fourteen.”

Dick’s emotions swirled inside him. He was confused–but also relieved? “How, how could Peter be my clone? He doesn't look like me. We’ve all seen him, but only Jason thought he looked anything like me–” Dick’s eyes snapped to the computer– “Babs, did you think Peter looked anything like me?”

“No, Dick. I didn’t.” Barbara shook her head. Dick’s head snapped back to his brother, and he waited for him to take back what he said, but Tim doubled down.

“Unless the people who made Peter weren’t trying to clone you– you could have just been the donor for the supplemental DNA– like how Lex Luthor used his own DNA for Kon. But unlike Luthor, you had no idea.”

Eyes were split between the large computer screen and Dick, whose face was a storm of mixed emotions. Bruce grimaced, a movement barely perceptible, as his grip on Dick’s shoulder tightened, anchoring him, steadying him.

Tim ran his fingers over the console as he looked at his brother. “Dick, I know you were against taking Peter’s DNA for analysis, but we'll need it to confirm this theory, and this is the strongest theory we have yet.”

Dick let out a long sigh– the first time he’d let himself relax after revelation after revelation. “If it means we’d be able to help Peter, I’m not against it anymore.”

Bruce’s shoulders squared as a grim look settled on his face. His voice shifted into Batman’s low, commanding tone, echoing off the walls. “Though it’s only a working theory, we’ll operate under the assumption that Peter is a clone until we have a complete DNA analysis. Until we know otherwise, we must assume that we have been compromised. If someone out there had extracted Nightwing’s DNA, they might already know his secret identity. We’ll have to tread carefully, and act under the assumption that the person or people behind Peter is watching our every move.”

Dick crossed his arms, and huffed, “I take it that I’ll have to stay in Gotham until this blows over?”

“Hn.” Bruce gave a short decisive nod as his hand gave his son a firm squeeze, a silent assurance that they will get past the current crisis.

“Barbara–” Bruce started.

“Already on it, B,” Barbara’s voice instantly cut in, her clacking keyboard ringing through the Batcomputer. “Running a full sweep against every known genetic experiment in the past ten, fifteen years, and cross-referencing against Dick’s DNA– extra focus on organisations with a history of accelerated maturation and memory fabrication.”

“And findings on Stephen?” he asked, and the clacking stopped abruptly. Barbara’s fingers hovered as she looked at something off-screen. Her brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed before she sighed heavily.

“No. Nothing.” She answered, despondent.

“There’s got to be something, Babs,” Jason argued, his eyes still faintly green, and his hands now rolled into fists. “A former surgeon and head of security, those are very specific jobs– there couldn’t possibly be that many Stephens with that job history.”

“I’m re-running searches through every database that I can– medical licenses, security agencies, even the military– but I told you before, he’s likely covered his track, and if he is connected to people who can clone and create false memories, I doubt they would let one of them be easily discovered. We don’t even have visuals on the guy, then I could at least catch him using facial recognition. He’s a ghost– and our only connection to him is Peter.”

“I’ll help you with finding more about Stephen, Babs,” Tim volunteered.

“Thanks, Tim.” She gave a half-smile, then her shoulders squared, and her tone shifted into one that held conviction. “I’ll keep digging. I’ll figure out who he is, where he’s working, and if he has any connection to our clone theory.”

Bruce gave a firm, single nod. “We’ll have to act under the assumption that Stephen is an operative and an immediate threat. It’s possible that he’s gone rogue, but we can’t afford to let our guard down, not until we know what we are up against.”

The air in the room felt thin. There was an underlying feeling like they were racing against time.

There were many puzzle pieces laid out in front of them– Peter’s meta abilities, his association with ‘former’ assassins, his uncanny ability to avoid cameras and find blindspots, their theory that he was made– they were starting to form a picture, but no one has pointed out due to fear of conjecture.

It was a story their family was no stranger to– a child that only existed to be someone’s weapon.

Chapter Text

Peter looked up in awe at the Wayne Industries building. It wasn’t on the same level of grandeur as Avengers Tower–a more appropriate comparison would probably be Wayne Tower–but the building was no slouch. It had a more modern look compared to Wayne Tower, which had deeper gothic roots, but there were still the occasional gargoyle here and there.

On the corner of his vision, Peter read the pertinent info on his HUD.

「Sensors damaged. Utility at 24%.」

「Suit power at 11%.」

Peter let out a huff as he took out his dark blue long sleeve shirt. He positioned the neck hole over his eyes and tied the shirt sleeves around his head to keep it secure. He pulled the hood of his dark green jacket, then the large hood of his oversized black jacket over his head. He was going to need his mask for the mission, but he didn’t want Spider-Man getting implicated in trespassing, in case anybody saw him.

He wasn’t being tailed nor watched that night, and only the skeleton crew remained in the building. Peter calmly walked to the side of the building and started to climb. He kept his senses alert for any curious eyes until he reached the top.

“So far, so good…” Peter muttered as he landed on the roof. “I hope I didn’t just jinx myself.”

He approached one of the ventilation shafts, and he felt through the edges for the bolts. Normally, tools were needed to remove these– but Peter’s superhuman grip and strength made it easy to manually unscrew them without any problem. Of course, if Peter didn’t care about the company figuring out they had been broken in, he could just brute force the cover off– but he did, so he was being careful.

He gently placed the cover on the ground before he slid down into the dark vents. He landed quietly– careful not to make the smallest sound that would echo through the whole vent system and alert somebody. He listened closely for the sound of air flow to try and figure out where an intersection or an opening was, and he crawled through the dust and lint-covered space.

He was so glad he had two layers of masks, yet despite that, he could practically taste the bitter lint and metallic, stale air.

Eventually, Peter found an exit. He saw office cubicles on the other side of the vent cover. He didn’t hear any heartbeats nearby nor did he sense any cameras, so he figured it was a good starting place for his plan’s next phase. He deformed the fins on the vent cover to squeeze two fingers through and reach the screws, but it was nothing he couldn’t undo later.

Peter let the vent cover gently swing down from one side before he dropped softly to the ground. He did a quick once around and found the door leading out of there– and beside it, an access control panel.

“Bingo.” Peter whispered a quiet celebration as he approached the control panel. He placed his backpack on the ground, took out a screwdriver, and he removed the cover plate. Next, he reached for his nano-tech USB stick, hovering it in the proximity of the control panel. The nano-bots immediately returned to their fluid and amorphous form, and assimilated with the circuitry.

Peter took out his laptop and booted up UnderoOS. He only intended to extract a map of the building– but he quickly realised he was also able to create temporary backdoor access straight into the building’s security system just through the control panel, and his eyes went wide.

“Holy crap.” Peter dragged his hands through his face as he realised what he had– access to floor plans, credentials, even locations and control of security cameras.

A cold wave of realisation hit Peter– this level of access would be terrifying if it landed on the wrong hands. If these were the actions of a very evil person, this would have been horrible for Wayne Industries– but fortunately for Mr. Wayne, Peter only needed to borrow one of their engineering labs for one night. He set the backdoor to self-terminate after twenty-four hours, and all the data he copied would only be kept in his suit.

He didn't remember programming this feature into UnderoOS–so did Tony program this? Did he just never notice? Peter wanted to figure out how UnderoOS could create a whole backdoor from a pinhole, but it would need to wait till the objective at hand was finished.

The nano-tech that engulfed the control panel immediately returned to its USB stick form when Peter’s hand came close. He screwed the cover plate back, then he shoved his laptop and USB stick back into his bag. He slung his backpack over his shoulders, and jumped up to the vent he entered from. He took the time to screw it back, but he had to accept that he wouldn’t be able to fully tighten it unless he was willing to dislocate a finger. He didn’t forget to fix the fins before he went on his way.

His mask’s HUD highlighted the way to the engineering lab as he quietly but swiftly crawled through the vents– he even had to climb a few floors. He moved quickly, stopping whenever his senses picked up heartbeats or footsteps coming nearby or walking under him, then pressing on when the silence returned. His efforts paid off when he found himself looking into the lab through a vent on the wall after ten minutes of crawling.

Peter leaned into the vent cover to get a closer look, but froze as his senses warned him that his exit was in view of a camera.

「No. of Security Cameras: 3」

His HUD validated this feeling and even highlighted their locations.

Peter took out his laptop and booted up UnderoOS. He identified the cameras in the room, and set them to loop feed. It took a few seconds, but Peter’s senses told him the room was clear to enter.

He unscrewed all sides of the vent cover and he jumped down. He looked around and found a workspace he could use. He placed his bag on the ground and pulled out his suit as he let go of the breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“Finally.” Peter flipped on the workspace light and began looking around the room for the tools he needed– soldering tools, replacement sensors, wires, and other bits and pieces. It didn’t take long for Peter to get in the zone and he felt at home in the Wayne lab.

Peter ended up working on his suit for three and a half hours– a significant portion of which had been dedicated to creating a few specialty components from scratch. After the bigger repairs, the rest only required recalibration and minor fine-tuning. An additional hour was also needed for the suit and nanotech to recharge– so while he waited for that, Peter took the chance to connect his suit to Gotham’s police and emergency dispatch channels. He gave his suit access to cell towers while he was at it too, but opted against connecting to Wayne satellites. He figured that if they ever realised that someone had broken into Wayne Industries and stole their data, they would easily link it to the unidentified endpoint swinging around Gotham.

The work felt good– maybe too good? He didn’t realise how hungry he had gotten until he had the chance to relax and his stomach growled loudly at him. He was so glad that Dick had gotten him extra Night-wings.

Peter did a quick once over at his HUD.

「Sensors at 100%.」

「Suit power at 100%.」

He started to clean up the room and put everything back where he got them. He shoved his suit and trash in his backpack and jumped back into the vents. He reinstalled the vent before he flipped the cameras back to live feed again.

Peter eagerly crawled back to the ventilation shaft he entered from, practically leaping out. He dropped his bag on the floor, removed layers of his clothes, and put his suit on again. Though it had only been two days, he felt like it had been a decade-long reunion.

His heart pumped adrenaline. He shoved all his clothes into his bag, pulled his mask over his face, and immediately broke into a sprint to the edge of Wayne Industries’ roof.

“I’m back! Spider-Man’s finally back!” Peter whooped as he dove into leaps and flips. He reached his arm out, ready to shoot a web out when–

「WARNING.」

His HUD’s UI suddenly flashed red and Peter’s sprint screeched to a halt, but he didn’t have time to stop his momentum and he plunged over the building. He aimed his webshooter back to the roof– and though he intended to shoot a longer web, only a thin, short spray of webbing, barely a foot long, sputtered out– then his webshooter clicked dry.

“OH GOD–” Peter reached his other webshooter out– “Pleasepleasepleaseplease–” Web came out– the thick strand latching high onto the edge of the roof. Holding onto it for dear life, Peter swung instantly, arresting his plummeting momentum with a painful yet welcome jerk.

He planted his hands and feet firmly against the glass face a few feet below the roofline, relying on his spider powers to keep him secure, and letting go of his web. His body shuddered with adrenaline as he breathed quick shallow breaths. He only took a moment to catch his breath before he began climbing up, fearing somebody would notice his red, blue, and gold suit against the polished windows of Wayne Industries building.

His heart hammered against his ribs as he quietly cursed himself– “Stupid stupid stupid. Stupid, Peter. Stupid!”

Once he was back to the safety of the roof, his arms and legs collapsed under him and he rolled over to his back. The city lights reflected off the smog over Gotham, giving it a disgusting yellow-green tint, contrasting nicely against his HUD’s UI which has returned to its original light blue colour.

On the bottom middle of his vision, a message was flashing.

「Web Cartridge LOW.」

Peter groaned and gritted his teeth. “Would’ve been nice to know thirty seconds earlier!”

He felt for the spare cartridges on his suit’s waist and took them out one by one– all were empty. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he whined.

He closed his eyes for a moment and let himself breathe. He was fine. He was safe. Even if both webshooters were out of web fluid, he still had his web-wings to fall back on. He was overreacting, that’s all.

When he opened his eyes again, his attention went to the time. 6:03am. He wouldn’t have enough time to sneak back in and find a chemical lab before the daytime workers start coming in.

He looked back at the direction of the ventilation shaft that he broke into. Though it was a good distance away, he could still clearly see the gaping black square. In his excitement and impatience to be Spider-Man again– he’d completely forgotten to secure the cover he had so carefully removed.

“Of course, I did,” he groaned, dramatically letting his head fall back.

He dragged himself up to finish what he’d started–not forgetting to curse himself in the process–as he thought of his plan for his web fluid. Though he hadn’t expected to need more so soon, Peter had already thought about how he would replenish his web cartridges.

Two words: Gotham Academy.

Peter hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours– which was nothing compared to his personal best which was forty, forty-eight hours, but those times he was cheating– he had coffee. It would have been tolerable if he had coffee, but he didn’t. So what else could he do, but suffer?

He had changed out of his Spider-Man suit and back into his civi-clothes before he left the Wayne Industries building– though he kept his empty webshooters on his wrists, as a reminder of his goal, to ground him and push him further. Risky, maybe– but they didn’t look that far off from a pair of metallic arm bands, a quirky fashion choice, and they were mostly hidden under the sleeves of his jacket.

He continued to operate under the assumption that the Bats were stalking him through cameras– even more so now he’d actually been committing crimes–so he took several detours before arriving at the school. It was around 10am when he finally got there.

Compared to Wayne Industries, it was easier to sneak into the school even in broad daylight. He already looked the part of a student– he was fourteen, he had a backpack, and with his jacket all zipped up, nobody could even tell that he wasn’t wearing the school uniform.

Most students were in their classes so the hallways were pretty empty, except for the occasional staff or hall monitor, but since Peter could hear heartbeats and footsteps from a mile away, it wasn’t difficult to evade them. Though he was concerned that he wouldn’t be able to avoid the cameras, he quickly realised that there were plenty of blindspots, and he let himself relax.

It didn’t take too long for Peter to find the facility he needed– the chemistry lab. It was locked, obviously, protected by an electronic lock. He didn’t find any screws on the cover plate this time around, so he used his stickiness to secure the cover to his fingers and gently pry it off. Peter took out his USB stick to repeat the steps he’d practised on Wayne Industries, when he noticed something and his brow shot up.

“...the hell?” The inside was laughably simple– it only contained a basic motor that operates the physical lock, and the cheap circuit powering the whole thing. There wasn’t even anything in there that checked for a valid security token or encryption– any electronic signal would have unlocked it. If Peter had a phone, he could easily make an app to send the signal while playing the Windows XP shut down sound.

“Someone cheaped out on the school’s security. Some school for the rich,” Peter muttered, feeling sorry for the wasted tuition– then he remembered the students there were rich kids, and suddenly, he didn’t care too much.

Peter put the cover plate back on, and with a flick of his wrist, his USB stick changed into the form of a key card– he took the liberty of programming this into his nano-tech while his suit was charging– and scanned it on the poor excuse of an e-lock. There was an audible click, and when Peter grabbed the door knob and turned it, the door easily opened.

“Ta-daaa,” Peter exclaimed in the flattest note.

Peter quickly walked past the rows of workstations and headed straight for the supply closet. They were protected by another electronic lock, but it looked the exact same as the one by the door, so he doubted it was actually secure. He scanned his nano-tech key card, and the lock quickly gave way.

He felt offended with how easy it was to break in. Sure, he wasn’t expecting security at the same level as Wayne Industries, but he at least expected a challenge. The disbelief soon faded though, since he was too tired and too eager to get back to being Spider-Man to care. He’ll also need to sneak back in repeatedly in the future, so he should probably be thankful that it was this easy.

Peter absentmindedly raided the supply closet, grabbing the core ingredients of his web fluid– skimming through the labels to make sure they were adequate. His brow shot up again when he realised the stuff the school had were pretty high quality.

“The expensive tuition did pay for something worthwhile,” he muttered to himself as he walked out of the closet, hands full of the bulk containers. He kicked the closet door close behind him out of habit, and winced when he remembered he needed to go back in to grab a few more stuff. He groaned as he placed the containers at a nearby workstation, and grudgingly walked back to the closet to grab the tools he needed– beakers, pipettes, syringes, magnetic stirrers… he’s too tired to list it all, he just grabbed them as he went.

Though he mostly relied on Midtown’s lab to create his web fluid, he also had access to Stark labs– access that Tony and Dr. Banner insisted he used more, arguing it had better safety protocols–or that it had safety protocols. Peter did relent when he was trying to experiment with his web fluid formula, but he mostly stuck with Midtown.

It was muscle-memory from there. He measured the ingredients with experienced precision– he may have been in a rush but he still made sure the ratios were just right for his formula.

He did stop to consider whether he needed to account for Gotham’s climate– he was especially worried about the air quality and smog– or if there was something in this universe’s air that would affect his webs, but he didn’t remember anything was amiss when he shot out a web earlier. There were also no issues with his current formula when he went on his Europe trip, and his web fluid also handled Titan’s atmosphere just fine.

Granted, he didn’t exactly have the time to run proper diagnostics before he went on the field, but his web seemed to handle most scenarios. If he’d need to make adjustments, he can just come back another day.

He worked in a focused blur for the next thirty minutes, letting the distinct academic murmur, and the rhythmic whirring of the magnetic stirrer fill the silence in the lab. When the liquid finally turned to the cool silver colour of his webs, he pulled out his web cartridges from his bag and his webshooters, and carefully injected the fluid using a syringe pump.

When he finished filling the last two cartridges, he excitedly loaded them into his webshooters. He immediately noticed the weight difference, and he wondered how the hell he missed that detail earlier. He shuddered and grimaced at his carelessness.

He shook his head as he took in a sharp breath.

He aimed his webshooter at the furthest wall, near the chemistry lab doors. He let out a breath.  Just to be sure, he thought, remembering the close call at the Wayne Industries building. He squeezed the trigger– and a strong, thick strand shot out and latched instantly to the wall. Peter grabbed the web with his superpowered grip, and pulled it taut– not enough to pull the wall towards him, but enough to test if the web held firm, resisting his strength without any hint of breaking or stretching thin.

The stress from earlier that morning faded away, replaced by genuine, tired relief.

He walked towards the other end of the web and in one swift motion, switched one of his webshooter’s cartridges to one that held his web dissolver, and sprayed it on the connection between his web and the wall. He wasn’t out of those, fortunately, so he saw no need to make more that day. His web easily unlatched, and Peter rolled the whole strand into a ball that he disposed of in the trash. It would dissolve in about an hour, leaving no trace for anybody to find.

Peter switched the cartridges back, and he immediately set to work on the final clean-up. He meticulously cleaned and returned all the glassware, tools, and containers to their exact spots in the supply closet–or as exact as Peter remembered them to be–making sure nothing looked too out of place. He wiped down the workstation, removing any spilled substances and more importantly, fingerprints. Though he was positive nobody could trace it back to him– he didn’t exist in that universe, after all– he still didn’t want to leave any evidence that an unauthorised person had been in their lab.

He slung his bag over his back and he prepared to leave. As a final precaution, he looked around the lab, making sure the room looked about the same as when he entered–even if he wasn’t really paying attention when he first stepped foot inside– then he turned to the lab doors, and slipped out to the quiet hallway.

With the mission and tension finally gone, his body felt heavy. Though he had the urge to start swinging again, his too-soon experience of falling off a building reminded him that he needed to rest before he did something stupid again.

He couldn’t stop the escape of one big yawn as he walked through the quiet halls of Gotham Academy.

nearby… looking

Peter paused, and absentmindedly looked behind him, only to be met by a vaguely familiar brown boy with dark hair and green eyes, turning from a corner. His eyes narrowed, and his head tilted as he tried to remember where he’d met him. He hadn’t met a lot of teenagers in this universe– he’d mostly met adults. The only time he met teens his age was at–

Peter blinked. The image of the plastic Nightwing figure in his bag flashed through his mind. His eyes shot wide open as he remembered the boy who lorded his one-year of seniority over Peter at Batburger.

“Damian?”

The other boy’s eyes were wide for a second before the tension left him. He squared his shoulders as he put his hands in his pockets– and crossed the distance between them. “Peter, I wasn’t expecting to see you at my school. What are you doing here?”

Peter blinked as he fought to wake his senses. He let himself relax prematurely, and didn’t realise someone had gotten too close to his previously well-guarded perimeter. Did Peter even hear him coming? He must have, but he had gotten too tired to take notice.

“Oh, you know… classes.” Peter’s words slurred slightly as he forced a confident smile. “I go here, you know.” He wanted to mentally kick himself for how he answered. He thought he sounded drunk.

Damian’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Peter up and down. “You look like Drake after his eightieth hour awake. When was the last time you slept?” His eyes discreetly scanned their surroundings. He didn’t see anything amiss– the nearby rooms were the chemistry labs, but he didn’t see signs of a break-in.

By all means, when he caught Peter, the younger boy looked like he was just roaming about. But why here? That was the problem– why was Peter–the boy who they believe was Dick’s clone–in Gotham Academy?

Peter’s nose scrunched at the comparison. “Drake? The rapper?”

“No,” Damian corrected, his voice laced with minor annoyance as his eyes darted back to Peter. “My brother, Timothy.”

“Oh, right. Tim.” Peter’s face brightened as he remembered the face of the older teen with deep bags under his eyes– and a connection was made in his tired mind. “Wait, eightieth? Like eighty? Damn. My personal record is forty-eight, I have to do so much better.”

Damian’s brows furrowed, and he let out a frustrated sigh. He leaned closer to the younger boy and questioned him– “Cut the nonsense. You haven’t told me what you are doing here, Peter.”

Peter coolly leaned back as he crossed his arms. “I told you, Damian. I go here.”

“You told us that your uncle and you were still in the middle of sorting your transfer yesterday. So how are you already a student of Gotham Academy?”

Peter winced, and he mentally kicked himself. Yeah, I did, didn’t I? Dammit.

“It’s my first day!” Peter proudly exclaimed, puffing out his chest. His poor attempt at lying only earned him a raised brow and an unamused smirk from the other boy.

“You are a terrible liar, Peter.” Damian stated, his voice flat and controlled. He stepped closer, and he threatened, “I’m only giving you one chance to tell the truth before I call security.”

Peter’s hands reached for the straps of his backpack and his grip tightened. He resisted the urge to frown and instead bit the inside of his cheeks. He worked so hard so no one would realise he sneaked in. If Damian called security now, all his effort would be in vain. He could run away, but he wouldn’t be able to sneak back in easily– and Damian was one of the few people who knew he existed. If he stayed, they’d definitely search his bag, they’ll find his suit– and that’s something he would never allow. He needed a lie that was strange enough to be true, and had enough pity-points to make Damian hesitate.

“Fine,” Peter pretended to concede, then lied as his response– “I wanted to do something productive. I wanted to scout the schools in Gotham, seeing which ones would be a good fit. I figured Stephen would appreciate it if I did.” He said the last part in a half-whisper, almost muttering.

Damian's posture stiffened at the mention of Peter’s mysterious guardian, and his eyes narrowed. “Why would he appreciate it?”

“Just a feeling.” He shrugged. “He told me to ‘Live a good life, Peter,’” he said in an almost mocking tone, before shifting to his normal voice, “I figured that involves going to school, being a normal kid– if I judged his character right.”

Peter’s hands trembled with exhaustion as he pulled at his backpack straps. He remained quiet. He waited to see if the other boy bit the bait. Damian didn’t react immediately– likely puzzled by the peculiarity of the request, the bizarre explanation, or a combination of both. The tension ate at Peter, but he could only blame himself for the result.

Damian straightened his posture, though the tension on his shoulders had disappeared. “And you’re doing it by trespassing? That’s an interesting interpretation of your guardian’s request.”

Peter pressed his lips to a thin line and joked, “You could say it’s a little strange.”

Damian raised a brow, the poor joke failing to amuse him. Instead, he asked, “Why don’t you and Stephen request a proper tour from the schools? Instead of trespassing.”

Peter’s nose scrunched at the tone that Damian used for Stephen’s name. What is with this guy and pronouncing names like they’re curse words?

“I wouldn’t use the big T word here, Damian, I was just sight-seeing. And you try to request a tour outside of open house days without a billionaire dad. I’m telling you it’s impossible.” Peter shrugged. “Besides, Stephen can’t come, he’s pretty busy with work.” Pretty busy being in my home universe anyways. “I hope you understand, Dami.” Peter slowly backed away.

Damian’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at the familiar term, but when he showed no signs that he was going to stop Peter, the younger boy turned around and his pace quickened to a jog.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief when he thought he convinced Damian to let him go– but took a sharp breath when he heard the other boy’s voice behind him.

“I can give you that tour.”

Peter turned around sharply, and in his tired stupor, he responded, “Come again?”

“If you’re with me, you’re no longer a trespasser, but a guest instead.”

Peter wasn’t fooled– the offer was a threat under the guise of a kind gesture. He blinked slowly at Damian– whether that was his fatigue kicking in, or his utter disbelief that he found himself in this situation. I just wanna go to sleep, dammit!

He let out a long, deep sigh. His shoulders slumped almost comically, as he grudgingly conceded. “Suure. Lead the way, Dami, but only if you can point me towards the cafeteria afterwards.” Then his voice lowered and turned to a sputtering tone, “I need a nap and a whole lot of carbs.”

Damian’s gaze hardened slightly at the repeated use of the overly familiar nickname, but he ignored it once again. “Follow me, Peter. We’ll begin with the West Wing where the administrative offices are located. That’s where you’ll go when you decide to enroll.”

Peter’s nose scrunched at the tone Damian used for his name. How does this kid make names sound like he was spitting them?

Peter had been too exhausted and too focused on his objective to admire the architecture, but now that he’s forced to pretend to pay attention, he realised how dark academia-coded the school was– it didn’t help that Damian chose to spend five whole minutes discussing the damn architecture.

They were thirty minutes into the tour and Peter could feel his brain melting. Everything was a blur, his spider-sense was buzzing in his head, and he could only register every fifth word that Damian was saying.

“…debate…winning…championships…Peter? Peter!”

Peter blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he glared at the green-eyed boy like he dropped the Lego Death Star he had just finished assembling.

“Are you even paying attention?” Damian asked in an unamused tone. Whether he was genuinely oblivious to the torture he was subjecting the other boy, or he was just really good at acting dumb– it wasn’t obvious. Peter took a deep long breath and mustered the sweetest, kindest–least murder-iest–smile he could.

“Yes, I am. But I don’t care about the debate club, or the championships, or trophies! Can’t you make this more entertaining and I don’t know, show me the facilities this place has? Engineering, robotics– hell, I’ll take the damn gymnasium! We haven’t even left the administrative wing!”

Damian crossed his arms, his green eyes boring into Peter. A smirk formed on his lips for a millisecond before it disappeared. “An impatient guest, aren’t we? Fine. I suppose we can skip to the departments that truly interest you.” He walked ahead, past the wall-spanning trophy case. When what he said finally registered in Peter’s mind, his head snapped at the other boy.

Peter gritted his teeth. “So you are aware this topic was boring me to death.”

“Perhaps.” Damian looked back with an amused grin. “Consider it a necessary test of your dedication. I’m surprised you lasted this long without interrupting me.”

ONLY BECAUSE I HAVEN’T SLEPT IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS! He wanted to yell back, but stopped himself when he felt a familiar buzz in his head.

watching

Peter looked up at a nearby security camera and narrowed his eyes. He’d stopped caring about being spotted by cameras ten minutes into the tour. All the spots Damian was trying to show him were in the view of a camera– Peter had tried to keep to the blindspots, but the other teen called him out for keeping his distance.

looking

Peter groaned at the second cause for his spider-sense buzzing– the boy right behind him, and he sighed, deeply. He turned to Damian, and forced through gritted teeth– “What?”

“I hadn’t said anything,” he replied, raising a brow.

Peter closed his eyes as he pinched his brows. He let out an exasperated sigh as he walked past Damian. “Whatever. Let’s just go. Before I die from boredom.”

Damian strode forward, cutting in front of the younger boy. “This is not a manner of entertainment, Peter. You requested a tour, you will receive one– under my direct supervision.”

Peter scoffed, quickening his pace. “I didn’t request it from you– you offered, under the threat of calling security if I didn’t accept.”

Damian smirked. “So why did you accept?”

“Why did you have to meddle?” Peter grimaced as he raised his chin. “I was on my way to leave already.”

“Is that your latest lie?” The older boy asked, amused. Peter did not answer. For once, he said the truth yet he was still called a liar.

The walk to the Engineering Labs was a blur for Peter. Shuffling along, his exhaustion made the hallway lights swim in his vision. He remembered hearing a buzzing sound– it wasn’t his spider-sense– it was most definitely Damian. If Peter didn’t focus hard enough, his brain refused to acknowledge words as… well, words.

The familiar click of an electronic lock unlocking pulled Peter out of his sleepy stupor. He blinked, his eyelids feeling heavier by the moment. On the nearby wall, in all capital letters spelled GOTHAM ACADEMY ROBOTICS AND ENGINEERING LABORATORY.

“Your requested facility, the engineering lab,” Damian announced, stepping aside with a cold gesture.

Peter entered the spacious lab– it was at least three times larger than the chemistry lab that he’d borrowed. It was filled with advanced machinery, various toolkits, bits and bobs– the works. Unlike the chemistry lab where the workstations were arranged in rows– here, they were arranged in hexagonal spaces.

Peter took a quick glance around before his vision refused to focus anymore, and he just blankly stared at one corner of the room.

“Well?” Damian prompted, briefly pulling Peter out of his half-trance like state. “Observe. You claimed your primary interest in bioengineering, correct? This facility should prove adequate for your projects. This is what you have come to Gotham Academy for, is it not?”

Damian sounded confident. He believed he wore down Peter to reveal the true nature of his visit to Gotham Academy– if it wasn’t to observe him and his siblings who were attending the school, then to assess specific technical resources under Stephen’s orders.

And if Peter had the capacity for higher-level thought, he would have admitted– the lab was impressive, maybe he could have sneaked in there instead of Wayne Industries to repair his suit– but he didn’t have the mental capacity, so instead, he responded–

“I don’t know.”

Damian’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean you don’t know? You explicitly demanded this wing, is this not the facility you’ve come here for? Are you not even impressed?”

Peter scoffed bitterly. “I’ve seen better at Tony’s labs. It's impressive, but I don’t really care right now. I just wanted to get away from the boring stuff. I thought if we were here I wouldn’t die of boredom but…” he sighed. “I’m just tired. Let’s move on to the next part of the tour and get this over with so I can go home.”

Damian froze. His entire leading theory had just been disproven by utter exhaustion. When Peter made specific requests to see the labs, he believed it was a proactive attempt to take control of the tour– but it turned out that Peter was only trying to manage his boredom and exhaustion.

Peter turned around, aiming for the lab doors when Damian blocked his path.

“Unacceptable, Peter,” he declared, his voice tightening. “I have allotted five minutes into this part of our tour–” he was grasping at withering strands of control he once held– “We are staying here until it is time for the next part of the tour.”

Peter’s eyes snapped wide, energy filling them for the first time again, and he glared at Damian. “Are you serious? You’re seriously forcing me through a time limit?! I just said I was tired, what part of that do you not understand?!”

Damian squared his shoulders and crossed his arms, refusing to respond. Peter grimaced. He knew he had no power, he had no leverage. He was stuck there as Damian’s prisoner and all he could do was comply.

“Fine!” Peter threw his arms in surrender as he walked away from the older teen. He needed to make time pass quickly, and if this was how Damian was going to play, Peter was going to make the most of it.

Peter grabbed a pair of large, noise-cancelling ear muffs left on a nearby workstation, pulled them over his ears, and immediately dropped onto the cold linoleum floor, using his backpack as a makeshift pillow. He curled onto his side, adopted the stiff, specific military breathing pattern that Bucky had taught him, and within five seconds, was completely knocked out.

Damian watched the entire sequence in disbelief, frustration compounding, until realisation hit him– Peter was no longer being insolent, he was actually asleep.

This had put a considerable halt to his plans. He had expected for Peter to begin looking around, interacting with the hardware, and inevitably slip up– his slip about ‘Tony’s labs’ proved that Damian’s tactics were proving to be effective– but now, his target was in deep sleep. He couldn’t leave Peter, nor interrogate him– he had already gotten incredibly quiet on their walk to the lab. They were at an impasse.

Seeing he had given the time limit himself, Damian took the opportunity to finally address his phone, which had buzzed incessantly when he initially forced Peter into view of the cameras, though they provided no audio, so none of his family actually knew what they were talking about.

BATCHAT

Babs: i just got a ping that Peter’s at Gotham Academy

Babs: Damian, are you with Peter right now?

Babs: he looks exhausted, is he okay?

Dickie: what is Peter doing there?

Babs: Duke, Steph, can you check on them? They’re in the administrative wing.

Steph: cant, clsas rn

B: Status report. As soon as possible, Damian. 

The latest message was from a minute ago

Babs: Damian, report, what are you doing in the engineering lab?

He quickly composed a report.

Demon: I caught Peter trespassing on school property. He had no clear goals. When questioned, he admitted he was on an errand for Stephen, scouting the schools. I believed he was sent to assess the quality of the school’s facilities. He was in a highly vulnerable state that I could exploit so I took the initiative to gain more information by exhausting him until he divulged more information.

Demon: I extracted a new name: Tony. When questioned about his impression of the engineering lab, he answered, “I’ve seen better at Tony’s labs.” I have also observed that he has knowledge of a military breathing pattern to induce instant sleep.

There was a pause, then the Typing bubble appeared beside multiple profiles.

Duke: Did you just admit to torturing Peter?

Steph: dude, isn’t torture by sleep deprivation a war crime

Steph: then again, this is damian we’re talking about here

Duke: What is Peter doing now?

Damian’s brows furrowed at how his report was brushed off in favour of mocking him. He glanced over to the younger boy on the floor, breathing slowly, still in deep sleep.

Demon: He’s asleep on the Engineering Lab floor.

Demon: We needed more information about Peter’s guardian. I caught Stephen’s asset in an already vulnerable position. I simply took advantage of his blunder.

Damian defended himself. He had expected push back once again from the more emotional members of his family, but unexpectedly, the sharp responses had come from the sibling he least expected to react.

Timmy: Damian, Peter is our ONLY connection to Stephen

Timmy: what you’re doing is not going to make him WANT to be around us

Timmy: he’s going to avoid us as civilians like he’s avoiding us as vigilantes

Timmy: if we lose our connection to Peter, we lose our only connection to Stephen and the people who made him

Damian’s jaw tightened. He realised his tactical error. His intention was to protect his family, but didn’t take into account how his actions would affect his family’s other objective– to get close to Peter, but he wouldn’t concede that his motive was wrong.

Demon: I was only doing what I believe was in the best interest of the family.

Steph retaliated instantly.

Steph: well, what you’re doing is going to hurt the family and hurting this poor kid.

Steph: did you even get any info out of him?

Damian hesitated, forced to confront the truth of his failed assessment.

Demon: No. On the contrary, he has disproven my theories thus far. He has shown no interest in facilities I believed to be of interest to Stephen. Peter may have been telling the truth when he said he was simply scouting whether Gotham Academy would be a good fit.

The Typing bubble appeared beside Steph’s profile.

Steph: alright, duke and I are coming over, stay there

Demon: That would be unwise. We’d struck a deal that I will not call security for his trespassing in exchange for a monitored tour. Your presence would only compromise our situation, and even cause Peter to flee.

Steph: lmaooooo literal deal with the devil lolololol

Steph: just don’t kill the poor kid, or dick will get mad at you forever

At the mention of their eldest brother, Damian remembered his brother’s reaction upon learning Peter may be his son– and he realised another blunder.

Steph: oh shit, he hasn’t messaged anything yet

Steph: dick, are you actually angry???

Damian’s eyes widened at the prospect that Richard was truly enraged. Despite his older brother’s immediate denial that Peter was his son, he’d still proven he felt guilt and genuine concern for Peter– a detail that Damian hadn’t considered.

Finally, the Typing bubble appeared beside Richard’s profile, and Damian swallowed, his throat feeling dry all of a sudden.

Dickie: I’m not

Damian let out a breath he didn’t realise he held back.

Dickie: disappointed? yes

Dickie: Dami, bring Peter to the cafeteria when he wakes up

Dickie: we’re trying to get closer to Peter as civilians, you need to apologize or make it up to him somehow

Damian closed his eyes momentarily, accepting the order.

Devil: Understood.