Chapter Text
Some mornings are easier than others, and other mornings…getting out of his makeshift bed is a herculean effort. He wakes up slowly on those days, smacking his dry lips and barely heaving himself up from his pallet.
He slumps forward on this particular morning like a puppet cut from its strings. Sitting on his tarp for an unknown amount of time– seconds blurring into minutes and maybe hours– while listening to the pitter patter of rain hitting against the metal roof.
It’s the first time he’s heard rain since that day in the Sanctum.
The sound weighs down on Peter, making him want to do nothing more than lay back down and fall back asleep. If he does that though– he has a feeling he won’t get back up again for a decent while.
It’s reminiscent of the time that Ben died, and Aunt May pulled him from his bed.
“One day at a time,” She murmured, brushing back his hair. “You can’t tackle this all at once.”
One day at a time.
Peter can handle one day.
He pushes all the twisting, gnawing feelings he has deep down inside and blindly paws at the floor for his shoes. Peter craves to go buy a lightbulb. There’s an empty socket in the ceiling, and one of these days, hell figure out how to reconnect the shed to the energy grid. But that would be a waste of his money. He has to be responsible and buy only the things he needs.
Thankfully, that’s been getting a bit easier as the days go by.
It’s only been a couple of days since he’s started at the temp agency, but he’s already managed to snag a few gigs under his belt. Mostly he’s been doing laundry at a run-down hotel in the middle of the Bowery. It’s boring work– washing, drying and folding sheets–but, it gives him just enough of an income to survive.
So far Peter has earned about ninety-seven dollars.
Twenty of that has gone to a cooler and some ice that Peter keeps cramped in the shed. It takes up half of the floor space, and Peter has to sleep curled up in a ball with his knees touching his chest because of the addition. His back hates him for it, but he can make do for the moment with his enhanced healing.
Another twenty goes towards a week supply of food and water. It’s not a lot: a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter and apple jelly.
Though he does also manages to snag a few boxes of oatmeal raisin cookies on sale for a dollar, and savors the pastries as they last. The desserts fill up some of the empty calories he’s been missing.
The big jugs of water– now certified chemically free by the Gotham Health Association– are tucked in the cooler, keeping cool. The ice cold water has been the only thing keeping him from having a heat stroke. The temperatures in the shed get up to insane amounts during the day, and from the information Peter has gleaned from his co-workers, it’s only going to get hotter from here.
If the scrapyard had been in a more secure location, Peter would be tempted to keep the door open to air it out. As it stands though, the teenager doesn’t want to bring attention to the fact that the scrapyard is currenly occupied.
The less attention he brings to himself the better.
So he makes do with his ice cold water, waiting until it melts, dipping rags (made from his bloodied ruined shirt) into it, and placing it on his neck during the day. He goes through ice like crazy, but it’s better than burning up and fainting.
Most of the remaining money goes towards a gym membership. The unlimited showers make the purchase worth it since Peter doesn’t have access to them otherwise, but with his new membership he also gets a locker for free in the back rooms along with being able to attend any classes they have.
Surprisingly for such a small gym, they have a variety of several different classes rotating each week. They host gymnastics, hand-to-hand combat, and first-aid classes such as CPR and bandaging wounds. Most of them are even free for the community, paid for by the Martha Wayne Foundation to booster different types of education among the poorer populace of Gotham.
Apparently, the Wayne Family is everywhere.
Once Peter received the pamphlet to the Wayne Expo, he started seeing the name Wayne plastered all around Gotham. Now he can’t not notice them. It’s almost as if every block in the city has some kind of connection to the family.
It makes Peter all the more eager to sneak into the Wayne Expo. Not only would it be cool to be able to meet the family helping Gotham behind the scenes, but it the perfect opportunity to see whether this world’s technology is further behind or ahead of his past world.
Past world. When did he stop calling it his home?
Yeah, Peter is most decidedly not thinking about that. The idea that he’s in an entirely different dimension still makes his head spin. Worse, it gets all the more easier to forget he’s not in his past home as the days slowly tick by.
What if in the future he forgets all about it? What if the sounds, smells, and sights of Queens becomes only a distant image to him? What if one day he forgets the sound of MJ’s voice?
‘Don’t think about it Parker. One day at a time.’ Peter shakes his head and opens the door to the shed.
He leans against the doorframe as he watches waves of rain wash across the scrapyard. It’s pouring outside. There’s no way he’ll be able to stay dry if he goes out.
For once, he debates staying inside and having a day of rest. Walking in a heavy downpour isn’t his idea of fun.
But, at the same time: money.
The teenager sighs, keeping the door propped open with a cinderblock and using the light to dig out his wallet. He opts to leave his backpack there. (No reason for everything he owns to get soaked.)
And, once he’s fully prepared steps out into the rain to face the day.
Turns out that the job agency doesn’t have any job openings for the day, making coming out in the rain almost completely redundant. Instead of laminating about his loss though ( he could’ve been dry and warm–) Peter decides to make the most of his trip and asks one of the agency workers for directions to the library.
The worker points him towards Old Gotham– the rich district that Peter saw when he first arrived– and Peter exits back out into the rain to find it. It’s not a pleasant trip.
His shoes squelch as he trudges along the sidewalks, his hair plasters to his forehead in wet clumps, and his clothes are so soaked they might as well be a second layer of skin. By the time he’s halfway to the library he’s shivering and there are goosebumps along the entirety of his arms.
He swipes water out of his eyes as he spots a run-down grocery store on the corner.
He bets they have raincoats or umbrellas.
Peter finally caves in.
A ringing bell chimes overhead as he ducks inside the door, and the man behind the counter wearily eyes him and reaches down for something. It’s probably a weapon. Most of the store owners in Gotham have them for self-defense. (And, hadn’t that been a shock the first time he entered a store for food.) His spider-sense doesn’t go off though so he’s probably safe for now. He pays the man no mind, heading down one of the aisles looking for an umbrella.
He doesn’t find one. The closest he finds is a clear plastic rain coat for five dollars. It would take all that’s left of his money. But… sadly… it’s worth the investment. It’s always cloudy in Gotham, and Peter’s probably lucky that he’s avoided the rain for as long as he has. He can’t be showing up to future job sites soaking wet each time it decides to drizzle.
He snags the raincoat and heads to the counter. When he brings out his wallet the employee lowers whatever he’s holding.
“Not sure how much it’s gonna help ya’ now,” He grumbles as he rings it up. The man’s eyes narrow at the growing puddle around Peter’s feet. The teenager cringes, handing over the remainder of his cash, and eyeing the trail of water he’s left behind.
He shivers and rubs his arms again. He does his best to give a lopsided grin. “It’s uhh– better than nothing, yeah? And do you have a mop? I’m really sorry about dragging in water. I’ll clean it up for you if you want–”
“If ya’ wanna clean it up, I ain’t gonna stop ya’ kid.” The man shrugs. After putting away his new rain coat in a bag by the counter, the man points at a crusty white mop propped up against the far wall.
Immediately Peter goes to grab it, feeling a deep guilt about the zig-zag patterns of water he’s making on the floor. He trails after his path, feeling the man’s eyes follow him as he moves throughout the store. After he’s sure Peter isn’t up to something sketchy though, he feels the gaze fall off him.
Just as he rounds the corner of an aisle, he hears the chime above the door ring out.
“Hands in the air!” There’s a click of a gun’s safety being turned off, and Peter immediately stills.
He knows the sound of a robbery when he hears one. He's handled this exact scenario hundreds of times as Spider-Man. Quietly lowering the mop to the floor, Peter sneaks along the aisle, until he nears the front. There’s only one extra heartbeat in the building.
The attacker is alone.
Slowly, Peter leans his head out of the aisle. For a second he’s afraid the owner will look at him and give his position away, but the man’s steely eyes hold steady eye contact with the robber.
“Put all the money in the bag old man.” The attacker says putting a grocery bag on the counter between them. Not once does he drop the gun. “Or I'll put metal between your eyes.”
The man stays silent, slowly opening the cash register in one languid movement.
Peter's heart stutters.
“When you can do the things that I can...and then the bad things happen...they happen because of you.”
The teenager comes around the corner and pounces.
The fight is over before it really begins. The attacker turns around, slinging his gun out and drawing a cut across Peter's cheek, but he's not a match for super speed or super strength. Especially not the two combined. It's almost child's play to smack the gun from his hand while simultaneously bringing up one knee to his stomach.
The mugger doubles over, coughing and wheezing, until he eventually drops to his knees. Peter tilts his head down at him. “I got a feeling-just an inkling– that you aren't going to sit around and wait for the police to arrive huh?”
The man's eyes become saucers, and now that he's facing Peter, the teenager can see the man's not wearing a mask or anything to protect his identity. Amateur.
There's a ka-chick of a shotgun being loaded and a second later the store owner is looking down the barrel of his gun at the man.
“I do,” He responds. The mugger lifts his hands up in surrender. “You'll sit nice and tight, won't you?”
“Yes sir.” The affirmative is grit out.
Peter owlishly blinks. “Do you want me to call…?”
“I pressed a panic button as soon as he came in.” The owner shrugs. “Go on kid, I've got this.”
Peter isn’t quite sure how he feels about leaving the attacker alone at gunpoint– it isn’t good, that’s for sure– but here isn’t much else he can do.
He merely shrugs, goes to grab his raincoat, and chalks it all up to karma.
People’s stares turn into sneers the closer Peter treads to the library.
This part of town is way nicer than the Bowery. All of the buildings are intact, the stores are open and not boarded up, the streets don’t have potholes scattered throughout them, and cars sit parked along the curb with their tires still intact.
It’s not completely quiet though. There are still sirens in the far off distance, sounds of suspicious activity happening in the dark alleyways, but they’re further apart and more seldom than the city’s more crime-ridden areas.
Most notable of this district though, is the increased police presence. Blue uniforms stand around almost every street. Even better, they seem to actually be doing their job. This is the first time Peter thinks he’s seen a cop in Gotham that wasn’t up to no-good. Usually they keep a wide berth from Peter and wait until someone comes to talk to them.
These police officers though, merely give him a nod, as their eyes watch vigilantly over the street.
Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to catch their attention in any malicious way.
Before he knows it, he’s at the library.
The building–like most of the city– is gothic in nature. It's made of marble and has many nooks and crannies that look perfect to crawl up to and take a nap in. Roaring lion statues stare down at the street from where they prowl near the roof, and Peter feels a small ounce of unease staring into their nondescript eyes.
Creepy.
Despite the outside looking straight from a early 90’s crime novel, the library itself appears very modern. The doors slide open automatically when Peter approaches them and a thick layer of gray plush carpet covers the floor until where it meets the round wooden front desk. Guess he won’t have to worry too much about leaving a trail of water here.
From beyond that point, dozens of bookshelves are crammed into the space a little whiles away, and some stairs and elevator lead up to further sections.
The teenager feels no surprise when he sees a plaque on the wall dedicated to the Waynes as a generous benefactor.
‘Not the worst place to fund.’ Peter thinks as he strolls into the building. He lowers his hood, taking off his raincoat and placing it by the door next to where dozens of umbrellas lay.
A red-headed woman at the front desk spots him and waves him over with a smile. She leans forward in her wheelchair, already typing something in the computer. From this angle, Peter can barely see her name badge (“Barbara”) pinned to her Mario Kart hoodie. “Man, it’s really coming down out there huh?”
“Oh yeah,” Peter returns her smile with one of his own. “No sign of letting up either.”
“What else can you expect from Gotham? We haven’t had rain all week though, so I guess it was due.” Barbara good-naturedly shakes her head. “How can I help you today?”
Peter startles a bit and pats down his pockets for his wallet. “I was hoping I could make a library card? I only have my identification though. I didn’t know if you needed a proof of address.”
“You’re in luck. We got rid of that requirement last year.” Peter holds out his ID and Barbara takes it gently from his hands. Her eyes glance over to the pictures in his wallet, before she starts to quickly type away at the computer. Of course, Peter’s luck isn’t that great, and the woman immediately brings it up. “Is that your girlfriend?”
He purposefully closes his wallet without looking at the MJ’s face smiling up at him.
(Funny how he had wished to bring more photos with him when he universe-jumped, but now that he’s here, he can’t even bring himself to look at them.)
“Uh– she was. It’s complicated.” Peter says honestly.
“Sorry if I brought up any bad memories,” Her words seem genuinely apologetic. “I don’t know when to stop asking questions sometimes.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Peter stretches his lips in the best grin he can manage at the moment. “No way you can know right? It’s conversation for a reason, and goodness knows that I’ve bumbled my fair share of those. Especially since I have a tendency to ramble on. Which I am doing now.”
Barbara snorts softly. “Ramble away Peter. One of my friends does that all the time when he’s had too much caffeine and too little sleep. He’s a coffee junkie, so it happens often enough that I’m used to it.”
“Coffee junkie? I think you mean he just has good taste,” Peter jokes.
“Remind me if he’s ever in the library to keep you two from meeting.” Barbara grins as she types away at rapid speeds. She must be at the computer a lot if she’s that quick with a keyboard. Even Ned doesn’t type that fast. And he is–err was– Peter’s guy in the chair.
He wonders if she gets stuck behind the desk often.
“Will do,” Peter gives a finger salute as she hands the card back to him.
“Almost done,” Barbara says, her eyes reflecting the glow of the computer. “Annnnd, congratulations, you are a proud owner of a Gotham library card.”
‘Thank goodness.’ Peter almost sighs in relief. Finally he he’ll be able to have some answers to his questions. His fingers itch to get behind a computer.
“Thank you,” Peter says. He then realizes how uncomfortably soaking wet his clothes and skin still are. If he sits down at one of the computers, he’s going to make a mess. “What are your hours? I’ll have to come back when I’m more…” He gestures to his clothes, “Dry.”
“We’re open every day except Sunday from nine to seven. Sorry kid. You must be shaking like a leaf like that.” Barba’s eyebrows furrow and then she holds up a finger. “I actually might be able to help you there though. Give me one second.”
She wheels into the back for a few minutes, and through the walls Peter can hear the sound fabric and paper rustling around. When she comes back out, she’s holding a plastic bag full of clothes.
Peter reluctantly takes it when she holds it out to him. Peering inside, he can see a mixed pile of jogging pants and lightly used workout shirts. He can tell that some of the stitches in the seam lines are hand-sewn, so whoever they belonged to, must have taken good care of them.
“These were my boyfrien– err my ex-boyfriends– but he hasn’t grabbed them from my apartment in weeks, and I told him if he took any longer I was just going to toss them.” Her expression is soft, and her eyes hold a warmth that Peter isn’t entirely sure should be directed towards him. Gothamites usually keep their stares level and steel-cold.
Initially, Peter goes to refuse, but he stops himself. He could… really… use some extra clothes. They would be a huge help to him. He's not really in a position to decline the. He shifts from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Are you sure he won’t get mad?”
Barbara grins with a raise of her eyebrows. “Let him get mad if he does. He should be happy I held onto them for as long as I did. Besides, I think he’d want you to have them too. He already has too many clothes to keep count of, and no offense kid, but you definitely look like you need them more.”
Heat crawls up Peter’s neck and he peers back into the bag. “I really can’t thank you enough for this.”
“No problem. Bathrooms are over there to your left,” She points down the lobby and Peter doesn’t wait another second to go change.
The bathrooms smell lightly of lemon-scented cleaner, and he crams himself into a nice stall to change. Putting on a dry change of clothes after trudging around in his wet ones all day is a balm to his skin. The fabric is warm and ridiculously soft. Peter doesn’t think he’s ever owned clothes this soft before. They almost slide off his skin like water. The jogging pants are also really thick and retain heat well. A minute after putting them on and he feels like a new person.
Before he leaves the bathroom he takes a few paper towels and pats his hair not-quite-dry but not dripping either.
When he exits the bathroom, Barbara is sitting outside of the desk. “Everything fit?”
“Surprisingly, yeah.” Peter isn’t the tallest guy in the world, but he has a lanky yet muscular build from doing acrobatics. Yet the clothes given to him fit perfectly. Almost as if they were bought specifically for Peter.
“You both are pretty much the same height. Glad they fit! Now you can browse the library without looking like you’re one second from melting.”
Peter shakes his head, “I would have definitely melted. You’ve practically saved my life.”
“I have, haven’t I?” Barbara looks pleased with herself. “Well, your very gracious savior won’t keep you any longer. Have fun exploring the library. Remember there’s a five book limit, along with a two item limit on movies and audio cds. Oh and Peter–”
Peter stops and meets her warm eyes. She continues, “It’s hard being homeless in Gotham. If you have any place else to go kid…You might want to try your chances there.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Barbara,” Peter purposefully relaxes his stance. “I totally have a home.”
It’s very sweet in a way. She has no way of knowing that he has superstrength or any of his other powers. But Peter can take care of himself.
He can.
“Right,” She drawls. “I know they say home is where the heart is. But I mean four walls and a roof–” The shed has four walls and a roof. “Not the streets.”
“I promise you that I don’t live out on the streets. Got a roof and everything.”
Barbara disbelievingly raises one eyebrow, but thankfully doesn’t push the topic. They part with pleasantries and Peter goes to the computer lab. After registering the computer for a two hour period, he sits down at the nearest cubicle and begins his search.
It takes him a while to figure out where to begin. There’s so much he doesn’t know. It’s overwhelming. Fortunately, Peter’s no stranger to being dropped in new environments, and he’s always been a quick study. He decides to start with superpowered laws.
It would be nice to know if he’s breaking the law simply by living.
What he finds is shocking– but in a good way. Unlike his last world, this dimension doesn’t have equivalents to the Mutant Registration Act or the Sokovia Laws.
In fact, most metahumans (and it looks like they are called metas here in a very board category) fall under a lot of protection acts. Most of the laws are founded and backed by members of the Justice League.
And oh boy– wasn’t that a fun group to find out about?
Unlike the Avengers, which worked closely with the United States Government and S.H.I.E.L.D, the Justice League operates almost as it’s own entity. They work across borders and are seen as the embodiment of justice and good.
It’s strange to think that there’s not a governing body that’s overseeing them. What’s to stop them from doing what they want?
Peter pauses.
That line of thinking is what made the Sokovia Accords in the first place… maybe it’s for the best that this world doesn’t try to regulate them.
After reading a brief synopsis of the main Justice League members, he figures out that one of them is in Gotham. Batman. Apparently one of the few members who isn't a meta.
He exits out of his search and focuses all of his new efforts in studying Gotham. A quick Wikipedia article links him to all the known vigilantes in the city…and there’s quite a few of them.
There had been a lot in his New York. (Matt, the Punisher, Jessica Jones, Tony, and everyone else when they were in town.) But nothing like this. All of the vigilantes were under one force. They moved and operated under Batman and nobody else.
One man helped organize all superhero activity in the city.
And from what Peter’s seen of Gotham, no wonder the man needs as many vigilantes as he can get. Even if he patrolled each and every night, there’s simply too much crime for one man to handle.
Heck, there’s apparently an entire organization of night-prowling vigilantes, and Peter still sees a flood of crime happen in the streets as he wanders around. Explosions, fires, bullets, and thievery, the entire city always feels like it’s on the precipice of imploding into itself.
Pulling up a new list, Peter quickly moves all of his new-found information about vigilantes onto a document, before also adding maps of Gotham along with the location of the police stations, hospitals that deliver antidotes to the different type of toxins, and all the major villains that prowl the city.
At first glance, the rogues don’t look like too much of a threat. Then Peter reads more about their attacks and he realizes that while the villains of Gotham are different than what he’s used to, they are by no means less dangerous.
Holy fuck– why is Jocker Toxin a thing?
After reading about Joker’s main attack, Peter feels his skin crawl. How could somebody weaponize laughter? There’s already so much bad in the world…why take one of the few good things they have left and turn it for something so sickening?
He shudders.
“That’s one of the worst of them,” A voice speaks behind him. Peter almost jumps out of his skin. Barbara smiles softly back at him.
“I thought I would go ahead and see what kind of stuff I might run into here,” Peter says. “It’s…different than Queens.”
“That’s an understatement,” Barbara replies. “We’re one of the only cities that has to worry about mass chemical warfare.”
Peter solemnly nods. “I didn’t realize there were so many different toxins. I put all the locations for antidote hand-outs in a document, but I won’t be able to print it out until it stops raining.”
“That’s smart. You probably should be able to last a few days without it, but with Gotham,” She shrugs. “You never know. See why I said you might want to try and live somewhere else?”
“I got it, but I don’t really have anywhere else go right now,” Peter answers honestly. Then he grins, “Besides, I said it was different, not unmanageable. I’m sure I can make it.”
Barbara’s smile turns a shade closer to fond. “If you say so kid. If you’re going to be sticking around, I might have something that might help you. Come see me when you decide to leave.”
Ominous. But Barabara has been nothing but helpful, so Peter pushes down any worries about her.
Looks like his time is almost up at the computers anyways, and there's a backlog of people so he won't be able to reserve it for more time. Shame. There's still so much more he wants to research.
One day at a time Peter.
Saving all the information on the computer, he logs off and heads off. There’s still a few hours until the library closes, and Peter doesn't quite feel like going back to the scrapyard just yet.
Junkyards aren’t exactly the most entertaining of places, especially on rainy days like these.
Sue him, Peter's bored.
He meanders through the rows of books. Should he be trying to research more? Probably. Is he going to read fiction instead? Ab-so- lutely.
He grins and b-lines it to the comic book section.
It’s a pretty small collection for being in such a big library. But they all look interesting. Peter’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen half of them before.
Oh right. New world. New material.
Wait– is Star Wars a thing in this world?
That would be a crying shame if it isn't. Perhaps the biggest travesty of dimension hopping.
Picking up a comic at random, he sits cross legged on the floor. A few comics later and he's so lost in the plot and characters that he barely registers someone walking to a stop next to him.
It’s not until there’s a polite cough that he looks up.
A short nine-year-old kid is glaring at him. If stares were daggers, Peter would be six-feet-under by now. “Excuse me, but you’re blocking the one I want.”
Peter blinks. “Oh, sorry about that.”
The child literally scoffs at him as he stands up and takes a few steps to the side. Peter didn’t even know kids could scoff like that outside of movies.
The back of his spider senses buzz lightly as the kid approaches the shelf, plucks his desired comic off the shelf, and turns around.
It isn’t until the kid walks is down the hall that Peter realizes why he was so uncanny.
The kid barely makes any sound when he moves. If Peter didn’t have super hearing he wouldn’t have been able to pick up the slight sound of moving fibers on the carpet. Compared to all the other moving people in the library, the kid is as quiet as a mouse .
Weird.
Peter shakes his head and puts his comic back. He then goes to see Babara, returning her smile when she greets him.
“Here you go!” She hands him a plastic laminated piece of paper. Further examining it–Peter realizes it’s a map of Gotham. On the back is a list of emergency numbers and locations in case of events.
And since it’s laminated– it won’t get wet and ruined in the rain.
It’s an extremely throughout gesture, and Peter feels the back of his eyes burn from it. Since he’s come to Gotham he hasn’t had anybody show him as much kindness as this librarian.
“Thanks,” He croaks, trying to will himself to keep his dignity intact. There will be no crying in the Gotham library. Not today. He gulps and looks up at Barbara. “This means a lot to me.”
“No problem kid,” The red-haired woman smiles. “Now, get on home, it’s going to be getting dark soon.”
She didn’t need to tell him twice. Criminals grew ballsy when the sun went down, and walking all the way back to Crime Alley in the dark is asking to get mugged.
He gives her a two finger salute. “Yes ma’am! See you later Barbara!”
“See you later Peter.”
And without another word he exits into the rain.
Peter trudges back to the Bowery with his rain hood up and keeping to the rooftops. He’s less likely to get a gun pulled on him from parkouring across the skyline, and his spider-abilities let him jump without the worry of slipping and falling off an edge.
He’s halfway to the junkyard when a grinding noise interrupts his run. The sound of gears makes him halt and he peers over an edge into an alleyway just in time to see one of the brick walls open and move.
A fake wall.
Peter pauses as a car shoots out of the fake wall and down the wide alleyway. Blue lights reflect out of rainwater, and the sound of the engine reverberates off the walls. As soon as it came though, it disappears as it careens around a corner.
Had Peter not just spent literal hours researching in the library he might not have know what that was. But he had. And he did.
That was….that was the batmobile.
Batman’s car.
Peter whistles as the grinding noise restarts. His eyes flicker to the closing false brick wall.
An idea forms in his mind.
Peter quickly hops over the edge, jumping off the walls and landing harshly in the alleyway. Quickly using his remaining strength, he sprints and jumps through the closing gap of the wall.
The door shuts behind him with a echoing thud.
Peter stands up and looks around.
Well-lit circular tunnels lay in front of him. A thousand questions rattle through his head at light speed. How far did these go? Did they extend all under Gotham? Would Batman notice the sudden intrusion?
“Bad idea Parker,” Peter whispers as he reaches back and feels the solid brick wall under his fingertips.
What was he supposed to have done though? Not explore the giant tunnels under the city? Yeah right.
‘Besides,’ Peter thinks as he looks back to the closed wall behind hi.. ‘ Too late to turn back now.’
“Alright, I’m back online,” Barbara says as she logs into her computer in the clocktower. The sound of rain hitting the stone roof and distant thunder surrounds her, and it’s on days like these that Barbara feels like a mad scientists stuck in the top of her tower.
It’s not a bad feeling.
“Miss anything interesting?” She asks as she starts reading through her systems warning logs for any strange occurrences.
“B and Robin are going downtown to stop Clayface from attacking a bank,” A high pitched feminine voices says throughout the intercoms. “Besides that, it’s pretty dead tonight.”
“That’s a good thing,” Babara says.
“I guess,” Steph laughs. “Although, we might want to ask Dick if he wants a ride from the tunnel system. I just got a ping from one of the motion sensors and I saw him wandering around.”
Barbara’s fingers still.
Dick wasn’t in town today? Unless he lied about working a late nighter at the police station? But he rarely lies about things like that. Not to Barbara. Quickly she pulls up the footage from the bat tunnels and feels a chill go up from her spine.
The figure wandering the tunnels looks exactly like Dick. He’s the same height, and his water logged hair is closer to black than the brown Barbara knows it is. Those clothes belong to Dick too. Or they did.
If Barbara hadn’t given them away just hours prior.
“Good catch,” The librarian-turned-vigilante says through the intercom. “I’ll message and arrange something for him now.”
As she speaks she slowly deletes the footage and places it on a loop in the cave. She sends the live feed of the kid wandering around to only the clocktower channels. They don’t need to know about Peter. Not yet.
He’s not doing anything harmful.
While the tunnel videos don’t have audio, she can see him whistling and skipping along some parts. He’s nowhere close to finding the path to the batcave, and he’s on his way to a dead end.
She looks up to see how he snuck in and sighs when she realizes that the kid only broke in because of a bad case of ‘poor timing.’ Honestly, if she had been younger and saw the batmobile shooting out of a cave system, she’d want to go explore it too.
She can’t exactly blame him.
As it is, she blocks a few wings near him that lead closer to the Bristol area.
Just because he probably won’t find the batcave, doesn’t mean she’s taking any chances. She keeps an eye on him throughout the night on one of her other monitors as he wanders around.
On the next monitor she starts her search for one Peter Parker.
Who in the world is this kid?