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The Waynes really did try to integrate Peter into their family, despite his initial fearful reluctance. But after a slap up the back of the head, a rather painful one too, as well as a very stern lecture riddled with backhanded compliments courtesy of Felicia, Peter finally decided to embrace his new found family. Somewhat. Because he had yet to conduct the last test of all; the light-mus test for nerds.
Thus, the importance of this movie night.
The entire family was gathered for the night, with Damian huddled into the sofa in the corner, hogging all the blankets and pillows. Bruce sat next to him trying to bargain for a pillow, which was currently being sold at the price of a Batmobile (and Bruce’s dignity). Dick was teasing Jason, who was scowling so hard Peter was sure there were going to wrinkles the following day. Steph was busy rolling her eyes as Cass got her phone out, ready for the stream of blackmail material that always came with family nights. And right in the centre of the chaos were Tim, Duke and Peter, huddled under one incredibly large, incredibly soft, and incredibly pink blanket (Peter was honestly too scared to ask where it came from and why).
“Pete, it’s your turn to choose the method of torture tonight,” Duke said with a smirk as he passed the glorious remote to Peter. Suddenly, everyone in the room stilled and their eyes tracked the movement.
Peter gulped nervously as he took the remote in his hands with the levity it deserved.
“Please, have mercy on us,” Tim pleaded, desperately holding onto Peter’s arm that held the remote. “Remember when I brought you that sandwich, and all the coffee you needed at school. You know I don’t deserve this!”
Duke turned to his brother and smiled sadly and with resignation; he knew his fate, and he accepted it. That’s all any of them could do.
Tension built in the room as they watched Peter, who held the power in one hand.
Of course, there was no other option for Peter, not if he wanted to conduct his test. And as such, he cleared his throat and turned around to make eye contact with every person in the room, staring into their souls, ready to make his judgement.
“Star Wars,” he announced, “Episode I The Phantom Menace.”
Because if someone could put up with Jar Jar Binks for two hours, they could most certainly deal with the kind of crap Peter manages to get into with his Parker Luck and Spider-Man-ing.
It was a hard test to pass, and very few make it through unscathed, but it is a necessary one for Peter when deciding whose lives to ruin with his presence.
He expected groans and moans of pure pain and terror, he expected furious denials and arguments. What he does not expect, never in a million years nor a million alternate dimensions, is confusion, or the multitudes of “huh?” that filled the room.
“Is that an indie movie?” Tim bravely asked.
Peter spluttered, an indie movie?
“Is that like a kid’s edition of Battlestar Galactica?” Dick wondered aloud.
Now Peter’s mouth was open and he quite frankly could not care about how much more of an idiot he looked like now.
The audacity of these people! He would not tolerate this disrespect.
What kind of uncultured people was he sitting with? What kind of sad lives did they live?
Why do they not know Star Wars? How does one exist on Earth without…
Oh Force. This isn’t Earth. Not the one he was used to, and definitely not the one that he was introduced to Star Wars on.
Which meant… they didn’t know. It didn’t exist.
Peter let himself grieve for the fictional world that gave him comfort and continues to do so, when everything else had failed him. He grieved for the memories created with Ben and May, and Ned and MJ from their shared love for the franchise. But most of all he grieved for the numerous references he had made while patrolling that he now realises no one got .
But then it dawns on him, the golden opportunity that is presented to him. Because if no one got it, no one could make fun of his geeky references, and he would have an even bigger bank of quips and sagely worded advice.
He smiled slowly, the smile turning into a grin of pure delight and mischief and chaos .
“So many references,” Peter whispered, his grin growing wide enough to match Joker’s, “ unlimited power!”
Yes, this will be fun.
“Did you say something, Peter?” Duke asked from beside him, bringing Peter back to the moment.
“Ah, just surprised you hadn’t heard of the movie was all,” Peter replied, trying to contain his excitement. He’ll have time to revel in this discovery later, but for now, he needed all his brainpower to choose the right movie to inflict the most amount of psychic damage.
“How about Shrek,” Peter announced once again, before tagging on with the most innocent smile he could muster, “all four of them.”
This got the reaction he wanted, so much so that Peter was beginning to wonder if Felicia’s selective sadism was beginning to rub off on him. Then he pondered the more important question; why was Shrek the multiversal constant and not Star Wars?
“Why not Footloose?” Another Peter asked distantly, only to be politely ignored by all beings and souls to spare him the shame.
—————
Sneaking around on the ceiling of a not so abandoned basement was when Peter decided to implement his newest and smartest plan. He hoped Mr Stark would be proud of him, or incredibly ashamed, both were good.
He positioned himself right above the open area in the middle of the entire gang operation he was to bust on his own, having only sent the tip to Commissioner Gordon who was likely still busy cleaning up the bat’s work as well around Gotham.
Slowly and silently, he manoeuvred himself to dangle from the ceiling just by the fingertips of one of his hands while using the other to double check his web shooters, not wanting a repeat of some very unfortunate situations. Then, he lets go.
Peter fell, cutting through the air around him before landing lightly on the ground and looking at goon number one who was too shocked by his presence to do anything but gape.
“Hello there,” Peter said politely, as one does when meeting someone. He even raised his hands, both to wave as a greeting, and to show his lacking intent on violence. Though it seemed kind of counterproductive considering his Spider-Man get up and motif, Peter wanted to make Aunt May proud with the manners she taught him.
His manners, however, were apparently not appreciated as goon number one shook himself from his stupor and began shooting at Peter, or more accurately at the spot Peter had stood earlier.
He had jumped up the full height of the warehouse to land on one of the support beams above the goon aiming his web shooters below to catch the guy’s back, pulling him up in the air before webbing him to the ceiling.
The goon opened his mouth, likely to compliment Peter’s amazing reference, before Peter webbed his mouth shut as well as the man’s gun, just for good measure.
“No appreciation for art,” Peter muttered, dusting off his hands and getting to work.
He dismantled the operation five minutes faster than his normal time, and he even had some to spare to test out his new web combination to make his favourite web balls while waiting for GCPD to arrive. He attributed his newfound luck to his improved quips and references, but like the man himself said, ‘in my experience, there is no such thing as luck.’ Only the universe’s favouritism.
As they escorted the web-covered gang members back to the police vans, the head honcho (Peter forgot his name—Ostrich? Cassowary? Hm no, it was definitely a cold weather bird. Chickadee? That didn’t seem like the vibe he was going for. Big Bird it is for now then) yelled for Spider-Man into the air filled with sirens and radio reports.
“HOW? How did you know where we were?” Crime boss Big Bird hollers, clearly going through a crisis at his ability to lead a super evil gang. Hopefully he would reconsider his villain name, because frankly, the Vulture had already claimed the title of scariest bird villain.
Not willing to let the opportunity pass, Peter jumped down from where he was perched on the roof of the now empty warehouse, and walked up to the man, leaning in as if to whisper a secret.
“A friendly piece of advice; assume that I know everything.”
Then he walked off, greeting familiar officers along the way and thanking them before taking off on a web back to the fire station.
—————
What was another synonym for ‘hence’? ‘Thus’, ‘therefore’, ‘then’.
Peter sighed, this was impossible, he had already used every one of those at least five times throughout his essay. Said essay remained half way incomplete and had a deadline in two hours. So Peter kept typing and just hoped what he was writing was coherent enough that the teacher wouldn’t notice that Peter was just throwing in random global issues that he hoped worked with the text.
God he hated English.
Sciences and maths were easy; they followed a method that made logical sense and would apply to everything. Economics less so, considering how inaccurate the models were to the real world—but ignoring the impracticality of the subject still made it bearable. But English. English was just another reason for Peter to make a fool of himself.
It definitely did not help when he discovered that LitCharts was not a universal constant, unlike Shrek. Too bad his essay wasn’t on that cinematic masterpiece.
Peter had managed to stave off his rage until after the deadline, because he had shit to do and being angry would do nothing to help him. Being annoyed and spiteful on the other hand, helped fuel his determination.
So he kept typing, ignoring how half the things he wrote probably did not relate in any way to the text, nor were they likely actual authorial choices.
“Is that the English homework?”
Peter kept on clacking away at his second-hand laptop that was falling apart with every word. He refused to spare any of his brain power to move a muscle in Tim’s direction, nor to acknowledge his question. There were more important things to do.
“Isn’t that due in, like, an hour?”
Huh, it seemed he had overestimated the time he had left. Time to crunch the rest of his essay from a two hour plan to a 30 minute writing spree.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to get it done? You could always ask for an extension.”
An extension? Did Tim think he was weak?
He said he would get it done, so he was going to bloody well get it done. It didn’t matter that he was using his class time in every other subject throughout the day to work on this damned essay. He didn’t get stabbed last night getting distracted during a fight with some of Joker’s gang by trying to think of a good global issue for his text just to give up.
“There’s no way you’re finishing it in 30 minutes,” Tim challenged as he took his seat across from Peter.
Peter cocked his head, then looked up once he had finished his sentence, making eye contact with Tim. His sunken and still bruised eyes boring into Tim’s own raccoon eyes.
“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Peter said in his most deadpan impression of Darth Vader (minus the Force choking and the killing).
Then he looked back to his screen and continued typing, not hesitating for a second, because those were precious seconds that he could have written another variation of ‘hence’ or ‘therefore’.
But if he had taken those seconds, he would have been able to appreciate the face of sheer terror that overcame Tim, followed by the emotional whiplash when Peter returned to his somewhat more cheerful demeanour after the deadline.
—————
Clink
There went the second tooth of the night, and Peter estimated he would lose at least one more in this fight. Unfortunately resilient skin didn’t mean resilient teeth, but at least they would grow back. He just had to be careful not to open his mouth or smile in front of Duke and Tim (or Felicia for that matter), not that it would be terribly difficult. He should probably be disturbed by that acceptance, but it is what it is.
“No, it is not what it is, Peter,” King T’Challa said from the safety of Peter’s mind.
Have two of your teeth be knocked out by a freakishly large clown while being held down by similarly creepy clowns, all smiling and laughing even as his blood splattered all over their makeup. See if he felt like smiling then, your highness .
Peter grunted as another fist caught his jaw, popping it out of place, again. He hung his head, running through the options through his mind.
None of the bats knew exactly where he was, because he did not have the foresight to warn them he was going to investigate, or more accurately, take down one of the Joker’s bases that Felicia found during her stealing spree. Of which he had no knowledge of. Of course not, because that would make him an accomplice. Which Spider-Man was not. Plausible deniability and all that.
So no one was going to come looking for him anytime soon. Felicia might have caught onto what he was doing, but it might take her some time to notice since she was also busy with her training with Selina. He prayed to whatever spirits were watching down and laughing at him that encouraging her to spend time with Selina wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass in the form of missing paintings.
“You brought this onto yourself my man,” Quill remarked with a very audible shrug of his shoulders before adding, “and we are most definitely laughing at you.”
Peter was about to sigh his now perfected multiverse-weary sigh when a fist punching the air out of his lungs beat him to it—quite literally. Another spray of crimson left his mouth and oozed down the sides of his mouth which was not bare thanks to the torn fabric of his mask. Spandex really was not the most ideal fabric to use as armour. But as he said before, he did not have 20/20 vision. More like 5/20.
Even across boundaries of space, time and reality, Peter could feel Shuri’s judgemental cocked eyebrow. “That is a bit generous, Spinner. I would give you a 3/20, what with getting beaten to a pulp by clowns. Without backup. Without a plan. And no options.”
Peter felt the need to tut in his mind space that no, actually, he did have an option. And he did have a plan, one that he started on that fateful movie night.
He was going to listen to the Force.
“That wasn’t the Force talking you idiot,” Shuri said, increasingly exasperated, “you are aware you have several souls within your own, all sharing your mind and thoughts.”
Aware? Sure. Accepted? Not entirely.
But that's besides the point because Peter was making a reference. Which was exactly what his plan was.
He blinked up again from where his head was hung, drooling blood and wheezing from his bruised lungs, and made eye contact with the clown before him that had reared his fist back for the final punch, likely aiming to knock Peter unconscious.
Then, Peter smiled. Cheerful and with a mouthful of blood and maroon stained teeth.
There was a pause, a slight thing, as the clown considered the change in mood.
It’s not much, but enough for Peter to cock his head and put his plan into action.
Narrowing his eyes, and making his smile slightly sharper, Peter reached down into his anger and annoyance and rage that had been bubbling up the entire evening, being held captive by these clowns all because he hadn’t slept enough, letting them get the drop on him.
He strained against the bodies holding him down, as he straightened his back and tilted his head up slightly.
“Strike me down and I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”
A tinge of terror passed his assailant’s eyes, and those holding Peter down loosened their grip slightly, and he swore he could feel some of the hands tremble.
Not that they didn’t deserve it, and if anything it worked to his advantage as he suddenly broke from their grip with the last dregs of his strength and adrenaline. The head clown started backing away as Peter rose to his full height, spitting out tooth number three that managed to wiggle its way out of the socket. Seems like his estimate was correct.
Then the man bolted for the only exit, not that he got very far as Peter flipped up and over him, having to rely on his spideriness since he ran out of webs. But as he landed before the man once again, it wasn’t as much of a disadvantage as he thought, as the previously fleeting fear came back full force on the man’s face.
“I have to say, you made a smart choice back there,” Peter said, rearing his fist in a mockery of the clown’s previous movements, “or there wouldn’t be much to stop me. After all, once one starts down the dark path, forever it will dominate their destiny, consume them it will.”
Then the clown was out with a sickening crunch of his jaw and four teeth. Peter was obligated to pay back with interest of course, so really was only following through.
A few minutes later and the warehouse was void of any conscious clowns, and some hidden money and equipment littered throughout the building was suspiciously missing. Quite unfortunate that Spider-Man was just too preoccupied with the fight to notice it. After all, it’s not like he would have any use of the materials. Peter on the other hand still needed to afford his next meal and the resources for a new suit.
As he dusted off his hands, Peter could hear an overwhelming number of sighs in his mind, and mixtures of pride, shame and confusion.
“It appears I have underestimated your dedication to this bit,” Shuri began, only to be cut off by the rumblings of Drax.
“That was a very threatening speech. I am very impressed, bug.”
A warm, fuzzy feeling bubbled up within Peter that he hadn’t felt very much of recently, and he revelled in it. There were some threads of distress and sadness within his mind that he knew were not his own, but it was quickly replaced by the sensation of glowing, mellow embers.
“You did good kid,” Mr Fury said, amplifying the tingly feeling thawing his body. “Now you should head home and take care of those injuries.”
Right, that would be smart.
“And you should bring backup for your next mission.”
That would also be smart.
—————
It was definitely a smart decision, dare he say even intelligent, given the number of clowns that were gathered at the warehouse before him.
Hidden in the shadows and perched on the edge of a nearby building, Peter scouted the sight of what was meant to be one of the Joker’s biggest operations. Following Mr Fury’s—
“It’s just Fury kid.”
— Mister just Fury’s advice, he brought Felicia along for his self-appointed mission, leaving her a little note in her bag with a scribbled ‘Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi Felicia Hardy. You’re my only hope.’ Peter then pointedly ignored her pained groan that he heard four classrooms down. She was the only person that could possibly get his references, so he was completely justified to take every opportunity he could.
Unfortunately, even between the two of them this mission was looking risky. He counted more than triple the number of killer clowns that he encountered at the other base, and that was just those he could see from swinging around the outside of the building.
As he swung his way back to where Felicia had made camp on the roof of a building, he tried running through possible plans. All ended in likely failure.
“How’s it looking, Spidey?” Felicia called, not looking up from her binoculars trained across the street.
“Not good,” Peter huffed, landing beside her, “they seem a lot more organised than the other bases; they have guards lined all around the area and stationed at each possible entrance.”
Felicia hummed her acknowledgement and shifted the binoculars to look at the areas Peter referenced. She squinted slightly before removing the binoculars and a small, sly grin formed on her lips. Peter could just see the gears turning in her head having seen something that he clearly did not pick up on.
But unfortunately for Peter, that kind of line of thinking tended to lead to a loss of his already dwindling dignity, or another missing painting.
His face scrunched in anticipation of a disastrous plan, which must have been conveyed through his mask because Felicia just laughed.
“Too many things could go wrong, Cat, the odds are stacked against us even with your,” Peter wiggled his fingers in a manner matching the desperation in his voice, “terrifying powers. We should just call one of the bats.”
Her smirk just grew even wider, the only acknowledgement of his worries before she stood up and placed the emerald tinted goggles over her eyes.
“Never tell me the odds.”
Then she jumped off the building and into the shadows.
A minute later Peter spotted Felicia’s snowy white hair at a breaker box that he had missed. Seemingly making eye contact with him, she smirked once again and performed a lazy salute in time with her arm pulling the lever.
The next second darkness cloaked them, and the Cat and the Spider were off. With both of their enhanced eyesight and flawless fighting, the entire base was taken down before the, admittedly slow, backup generators could kick back in, bathing them in warm light.
Peter pulled his mask off knowing it would be a while before anyone found them. His hair was tousled and sticking up at awkward angles, and he had a few cuts and bruises littered across his face and body, yet it did nothing to hinder the amusement in his eyes and the manic grin on his face.
“You quoted Han Solo.”
“Mhm,” Felicia hummed, clearly trying to suppress the fond smile on her face as she met Peter’s eyes.
“You just— you Han Solo’d me,” Peter exclaimed, both in shock and amusement. At that point there was nothing Felicia could do to stop the rare smile on her face.
“But you said you aren’t a nerd,” he questioned, frowning slightly.
Felicia came closer and held the nape of his neck as her other clawed hand through his hair, noting how he leaned into her touch.
“I’m not,” she drawled, raking her fingers through his scalp gently, “but I’m not uncultured. And no one disrespects Leia, our lord and saviour. Truly a goddess among us mere mortals.”
Peter huffed a laugh then dropped his head onto her shoulder, exhausted from the fight and his patrol.
“I like you,” he mumbled into her shoulder.
“I know.”
There was a light slap on her arm before the two of them were laughing again. A rare and short-lived reprise from the hell their lives had become.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up fuzzball.”
—————
Finally, after spending the past week hitting every single Joker hideout he and Felicia could find, Peter had found the main base of operations. Supposedly the one that Joker was actually hiding out in, as the name ‘hideout’ would suggest. As such, Peter decided to be responsible once again and call for backup from the bats. He could likely take the base with just Felicia by his side, but she was busy doing legally questionable activities that he would rather not address.
So there he was on the rooftop across yet another warehouse with the bats by his side. Apparently villains just couldn’t be bothered to be creative anymore. Or smart. Because really, there were only a certain number of warehouses littered around Gotham that could be used, and at the rate that the villains of the Bats’ rogues gallery seem to escape from Arkham, they seem to just be transferring ownership between all of them.
In fact, he could make out a few of the Riddler’s iconic question marks on the outside of the building that hadn’t been scrubbed off completely.
Red Hood was by his side, taking up Felicia’s position from just a few nights ago, looking through a pair of binoculars to keep an eye on Nightwing, who was scouting the perimeter. Peter squinted his eyes, the lenses of his mask following, and discreetly got the newly installed Karen to zoom in.
“Karen, turn on heat signatures please,” Peter mumbled under his breath.
“Of course, Peter.” His magnified vision was suddenly filled with colours against a black and white background, highlighting the bodies in the building, including an oddly cold figure located nearer to the back and with more guards around them. Likely their leader, Joker.
He started counting the signatures and mumbled to Karen to tag them if possible, like one does in a video game. Then he went about running simulations for his different plans, but as he listed the possibilities, he began to forget the person beside him who was not aware of Karen’s existence. And so he began seemingly talking to himself at a normal volume.
As he got to the last of his ideas, Karen threw her own idea into the ring, laced with mischief and protectiveness.
“Perhaps activating Instant Kill Mode would increase our chances, Peter.”
Okay that one was on Peter, perhaps it wasn’t entirely smart to programme those settings into his new suit again when he refused to use it in the Iron Spider suit. But he just wanted Karen back, the only friend he could have from what was his normal, Instant Kill Mode and all.
Peter huffed a laugh then shook his head. “No Karen, please do not use Instant KIll Mode, we talked about this.”
As if she was some sort of dog being told they couldn’t play fetch anymore, Karen sighed and said in a disappointed tone, “of course, Peter.”
“What the fuck.”
Startling slightly, Peter turned back to Red Hood, who was staring at him intently, gaze cutting through both his crimson helmet and Peter’s matching crimson mask.
“What?” Peter blurted, because at this point ‘what the fuck’ had become ingrained into Hood’s vocabulary and became a sort of sentence and conversation starter. Sometimes, when he felt like shaking things up a bit, he even uses it as a greeting.
“Kiddo, pal, buddy, I think it’s more about you than him,” Quill consoled delicately, as if Peter were a child made of glass.
And perhaps Peter was made out of glass, but Permaglass would be more accurate. Unfortunately his brain is more akin to concrete than anything, dense and hard, but could crumble under the right amount of stress. So really, it was Quill’s fault that he hadn’t taken that into consideration when explaining to Peter.
All Peter got out of that comment was that Hood had developed some sort of special greeting just for Spidey to show his affection.
Peter always knew the guy cared for him.
“What the fuck is instant kill mode? And who the fuck are you talking to?” Hood continued, slightly more frantically.
There were a lot of ‘fuck’s in those questions, Hood must feeling emotional tonight.
“It’s what it sounds like. Just a little less killing,” Peter began, as if nothing were out of the ordinary, “And I was talking to Karen.”
“Karen?” Red Hood said with a strangled sound, he looked like he was going to continue his line of questioning but Nightwing flipped over the ledge of the building and landed next to them.
“Spidey’s seeing someone?” Nightwing said with a smirk as he crouched down to join in on their whispered conversation.
“What!?” Peter blurted out again, before raising his hands and shaking his head vehemently, “no. No, no no. Nope. Never in a million multiverses. I don’t even think it’d be possible,” then he stage-whispered and cupped a hand to the side of his mouth as if telling a secret, “sorry Karen, please don’t go all Skynet on me. Feel free to try if you want I guess, but not with me!”
Now Nightwing was confused, frowning behind his domino mask and exchanging looks with Red Hood, who just shrugged.
“Spider-boy, I think you missed telling them some crucial information,” Sam said slowly, “like the fact that Karen is an AI, and not, in fact, a person.”
That would explain the confusion.
“Uhm, Karen’s not a person,” Peter began, turning back to the two heroes, who then looked even more confused. “She’s an AI, y’know, artificial intelligence.”
“Where did you get her code?” Nightwing asked.
Peter grinned and knocked lightly on his head, “from up here!”
The two bats did a double take at the reveal and seemed to reassess Spider-Man, clearly having underestimated his resourcefulness.
Uncomfortable under the new stares, Peter turned them back to the task at hand.
“So any ideas on what we’re doing? Because I was kind of thinking about going in guns blazing.” He quickly amends looking at Red Hood, “metaphorical guns of course, not literal guns. Please.”
Hood nodded with some grumbling that Peter elected to ignore. Then they begin planning the best way to go about it based on all of their intel.
“Joker is in there by the way,” Peter contributed as he realised the others hadn’t been informed of his findings.
“That… is going to change things,” Nightwing said.
“No shit. I’m bringing the guns,” Hood announced furiously and started holstering the guns he had removed earlier at Peter’s request. Seeing the protests brewing in the others’ mouths, he added, “for precaution. I ain’t letting him take me again. Only using it if he tries anything.”
Peter acquitted and nodded slowly, which Nightwing seemed to take as a sign as he did the same. He was well aware that Hood had something personal with Joker, even if it was never mentioned. The hatred he could feel and hear whenever his name was spat was enough of a hint. Nightwing must know about it if he didn’t push either.
They go back to planning and eventually decide on a plan similar to the one Felicia had the other night. Except Red Hood would go in through the front doors while Peter would go in through the window on the roof when Nightwing took out the power.
Just before they were about to take off and put the plan into motion, Nightwing handed Peter another sleek black comm, much smaller than the first.
“Oracle wanted you to have a better one. No tracker or anything fishy. Promise.”
Peter grinned at the display of trust but he couldn’t just pass up an opportunity to show off Karen’s new skills, so he gave his most genuine nod of thanks.
“Thanks ‘wing, but I think Karen’s got me covered,” Peter announced before he jumped off the roof to get into position. He saw the two bats look confused before moving into place as well. Just as Nightwing hit the power source, Karen makes it into their comm line.
“This is Red Leader, standing by.”
There’s a huffed, “what the fuck?” Wow, Joker must really be getting under Hood’s skin for him to show that much affection.
Nightwing instead just rolled with Peter’s announcement and started calling out orders and the guards he saw. Then the fight began.
He leapt off the nearby lamppost that lost its light, landed softly into a crouch on the roof. He opened the window on the roof with ease and could spot a variety of crowbar-wielding, baseball bat wielding, and gun wielding clowns raring for a fight. But as they get a clearer view of Red Hood fighting his way in through the entrance, they begin to lose their confidence.
Joker, on the other hand, visibly got even more excited, standing up there on the makeshift stage at the end of the warehouse, slightly to the right of Peter’s window.
There’s a chilling laughter from the pale clown in purple. “So good to have you back Robin,” he said with his voice echoing down the large building, covering the muffled sound of the fight going on outside with Nightwing. He tilted his head slightly and leaned his elbow on the crowbar, one hand coming up to his chin as if deep in thought. “Oh! Or do you go by Red Hood now?”
There was another round of laughter that was as cold as the villain’s heat signature. Peter took in the surroundings before the inevitable fight begins once Joker finished his frankly dumb and childish monologue. Peter could drop straight down and start webbing the clown goons, but that would leave Joker free to escape as he would be stuck by Hood fighting the clown army. Or he could pull them up from his window, but he would be vulnerable to any shots, forcing him to go in through the front like Hood and resulting in the same problem. But… he was just the right distance from Joker that if he were to jump down, and shoot a web at the right angle, there would be enough momentum… yeah, that could work!
Having zoned out doing his mental calculations for the swing, Peter only caught the tail end of Joker’s monologue, signalled by the tightening of grips around weapons.
“Want to hear a joke?” Joker asked rhetorically, lazily swinging the crowbar around. Peter could see out of the corner of his eye that Red Hood is watching the end of the crowbar intently, and his hands twitched towards the holstered guns loaded with real ammo rather than the rubber bullets of the ones he had in his hands.
“No thanks, I’m good,” Hood replied gruffly, clearly restraining himself.
“C’mon it’s to die for! Promise!” Another pause for his uncontrollable cackling. “What do you get when a robin walks into a crowbar?”
There’s another wheezing round of laughter and Peter decided he had enough. Actually, it’s just that he thought of the best quip to use that he just had to jump in now.
Jump in he did, through the window before shooting a web and angling himself towards the stage, legs out before drawing one back and aiming a swing-powered kick to Joker’s face. He leapt off of the Joker’s undoubtedly broken ribs only to shoot out tendrils of his webbing onto the ground beside the clown to pull him back down, punching his white face in and hearing a satisfying crunch . Likely a nose.
“Oops, sorry to interrupt, was I being nosey ,” Peter said loudly, holding a hand up to his mouth like a politely shocked Victorian woman, “I doubt we missed out on much—I’m sure my punch line was better than whatever you had planned.”
“That was god awful, Pete,” Bucky said, pained and somehow ageing another decade.
That spurred everyone else into action as he heard the clown goons start to go at Red Hood who had broken out of his stunned silence and started shooting bullets. Rubber bullets. There was no metallic scent from his guns.
Peter would have to thank him later for his continued restraint.
He focused back on Joker whose eyes were burning with fury, offence and some confusion while he clutched his bleeding nose that stained his face. Upon a closer look, Peter couldn’t tell if his face is due to makeup, or if it was an actual skin condition. Eh, not that it mattered, it was still a punchable face, so Peter flipped over the clown, pulling the crowbar away from his hand with a web and flinging it to the ceiling and shooting more webs to keep it in place.
Something snapped in Joker, Peter could see it in his face, granted there was likely not much left to snap in a madman’s mind, but it felt like the villain was no longer following his script. He pulled a pistol behind his purple tailcoat and took aim at Peter, his usual unsettling grin turning into a grimace.
Dodging the bullets and taking down the occasional goon that tried to protect their boss, Peter made his way closer to the villain.
“What, don’t like my pun? I know it’s a bit crude, but—” Peter jumped and twisted in the air to avoid the bullets raining down on him and pulled the goon that had tried to sneak up behind him up into the air before shooting two tendrils to the guys chest, swinging him in the air and throwing him into an unsuspecting clown in the crowd surrounding Hood. “Got it, got it! No puns. I was always more of a fan of knock-knock jokes myself.”
He landed behind Joker, about to move in and restrain him before the clown whips around, sending his spidey senses into a frenzy. Confused by the sudden tingle, but trusting it nonetheless, Peter sprung up into the air and shot a web to the ceiling to pull him up so he hung upside down and well away from the villain.
Never has Peter been more thankful for his instincts as he sees a puff of green gas escape the flower lapel on the purple suit that was undoubtedly aimed at him.
“Ew man, y’know it’s common courtesy to not fart on people mid-battle.”
He quietly asked Karen to see if she could analyse the gas and its effects and to log it so he can make an antidote for it later. Maybe he can pass it onto the bats if they come across the gas again.
Joker whips his head up to where Peter was attached to the ceiling like a human spider, once again like the name suggests, and tries to shoot at him, only for his gun to jam. Huh, maybe Felicia’s luck was also rubbing off of him.
“Please never say that again,” Bucky said, disgusted, “even another one of your puns would be better than that.”
Now that was just uncalled for. His puns were peak comedy.
“SHOOT HIM YOU IDIOTS,” Joker screams to his goons and points at Peter once he gives up trying to fix his gun by smacking it.
The goons turn and start to shoot as instructed, but there weren’t many left as Red Hood had already taken out a significant amount and Peter now noticed that Nightwing had joined them inside. He jumped back down into the fray, dodging bullets as best as he can and trying to focus on Joker who has hidden behind his wall of colourfully painted goons.
“How about a knock-knock joke for the road?” Peter started, cutting through the wall as he webs the goons to various walls, including the ceiling.
“DON’T YOU EVER SHUT UP?” Joker yelled furiously, taking a gun from the goon in front of him and shooting at Peter without care for where the stray bullets ended up, which happened to be his own people. “You are a nuisance, a stubborn brat who doesn’t know when to keep quiet.”
Nightwing and Red Hood joined him as he rounded on Joker, the two bats taking care of the remaining goons around them.
“You’ll find I have many qualities for you to dislike,” Peter said with a lilt, a mischievous grin formed on his face, its innocence contrasting the clown’s.
Peter webbed the villain to the wall by his hands. But as he continued struggling, Peter webbed his chest, then his mouth because he was kind of offended at the guy’s lack of taste in jokes.
He turned back to see Nightwing on a private comm line, likely with Oracle, calling the cops. Red Hood was seething in barely controlled rage at just the mere sight of Joker. But he knows his limits. And whatever happened between the two of them was none of Peter’s business, so he does not say anything. Instead he moves around the room, searching for what he really came for. What he and Felicia had been searching for the entire week.
Plans for a multiversal portal. Their way home.
They were only rumours heard in the darkest alleys, or referenced in documents found at other hideouts. But at least it was something, the kick they needed for their research and their plan to get home. To save their world.
So he searched through every crate in the room, and every table and under every floorboard of the stage, all the while noting Joker’s eyes boring into him from where he was webbed to the wall in silence. Except, there was nothing.
There wasn’t a fucking thing in this world that could help them find their way back.
Nothing to know if Strange’s letter was true. Nothing to know if Thanos was even still out there.
Nothing to help him get rid of the ghosts of his world.
There had to be something he was missing. Even just one equation, one line of calculation, one drawing of a contraption.
He walked back to Joker and shoved his face into the clown’s.
“Where are the plans,” Peter growled, voice low so as not to draw the bats’ attention.
Joker simply raised an eyebrow, and he could see the muscles in his cheek tensing as a grin grew behind the webs on his face.
“Where the fuck are they,” he tried again, as Karen turned on Interrogation Mode and Instant Kill Mode. The grin just seemed to grow and he jerked his head as a way to gesture to the webs on his mouth.
Peter ripped them off without care for the pain that surely came from ripping his strongest web combination from skin.
Sure enough there was a bloodied grin, and it grew even more once free.
“Careful there, little hero. It sounds like you’re threatening me,” Joker said before huffing a small laugh. “We both know you won’t do it. Bats aren’t violent, except for our friend over there,” Joker said lightly and with full confidence, inclining his head towards Hood’s direction who was busy talking to Nightwing.
“I am no bat.”
His patience running incredibly thin, Peter slammed Joker further into the wall with an arm, cracking the concrete slightly. There was a glimmer of fear in the clown’s face as he took in Peter’s statement, and his grin faltered.
“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. I will break every bone in your body until you answer my question.” He pushed harder and nudged his arm higher to rest closer to the clown’s throat. “Where. The fuck. Are the plans.”
Joker hesitated for a second, considering Peter’s threat before he finally gave in, but not without a smile.
“We burned it.”
Peter listened to the man’s heartbeat, just as Matt had taught him, and there were no skips, no speeding or slowing down, no held breath or change in breathing. He was telling the truth.
The clown was telling the truth and Peter’s world was crumbling before him again. Their last hope, gone. Imploded. Exploded. Like the death star.
He shot a web over Joker’s mouth again and left through the window in the roof, turning off his comms and muting Karen.
—————
“Ned, you wouldn’t believe the villain I just fought,” Peter said hoarsely through tears, “he was dressed up like a clown, white face makeup and all. He even had that flower that squirts water, except it was some deadly gas.”
“I managed to programme Karen again, and I included some of the lines of code you wrote for me, adapted for the local police force though. The commissioner has this badass moustache that could rival Mr Stark’s.”
He laid down on the edge, one leg bent and the other swinging lazily off the side of the building.
“I miss you. I miss May. I miss MJ and the AcaDec team. Heck I even miss Flash,” he let out a wet chuckle.
“I miss our LEGO building nights, and Star Wars marathon nights. Turns out neither of them even exist in this universe! Which is completely ridiculous. Especially since they have Shrek and the Bee Movie.”
Peter turned his head to look over the edge and down at the alley below.
“Sometimes I wake up and I forget that there was anything before Gotham. And it scares me that I’m accepting this is my new normal when it shouldn’t be. Because then I’m giving up, and I won’t ever be able to see Star Wars again,” or Ned, MJ, May, Mr Stark.
“And now there’s no way back. Our last hope is gone; there’s nothing left.”
“But there is Peter,” Doctor Strange shimmered into an orange tinted existence next to Peter, looking out onto the city, “there is always hope. You just have to look in the right place.”
Peter sat up and joined Doctor Strange’s survey of the city, both sitting on the ledge, feet dangling.
“Just as you are the hope for Spider Alley, you are your own hope. You are one of the brightest people I know, both in your mind and in your soul. There is nothing that could keep you down and no challenge you could not solve.”
“So please Peter,” Doctor Strange begged, turning to make eye contact with Peter, “do not give up. Do not give into the fear, the hate. The darkside.”
Peter could feel the beginnings of a smile and the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest came back full force.
“You can do this. All of us have hope that you will.”
Doctor Strange smiled, his eyes sad and remorseful but determined. He pulled Peter into a hug, or as much as a hug as a semi-corporal orange being—soul—could.
“We will be with you always,” he said softly, and Peter can feel him being pulled back out of his own volition. He pulled back slightly to cup Peter’s cheek with one shaky hand. “Remember Peter, no one’s ever really gone.”
Then, he was gone.
No, not gone, just away. In a place that Peter will find a way to get to. Because he was nothing but stubborn and annoying.
And like hell was he going to let an overripe grape decide his destiny.
—————
When Peter saw Felicia at school the next day he pulled her aside into the cleaning closet without explanation. Used to his quirks, she follows and glares daggers at anyone who even thought about saying anything about the interaction.
Finally in the confines of the closet, Felicia forced herself to make eye contact with Peter.
“How did last night go, Spider?” Felicia asked, going for nonchalant but Peter could hear the worry laced in her voice.
“Not so good,” he started, but quickly sped up at Felicia’s reaction as she pulled up his shirt for an inspection, “I didn’t get shot, all good, see?” He gestured down his body. “Got Joker and his goons as well.”
She pulls his shirt back down, satisfied at the lack of injuries. But she looks back up at him and quirks an eyebrow as an invitation to continue. Peter took a big breath before placing his hands on her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and bouncing between his own at the odd bracing.
“They burned the plans. All of it.”
The reaction is immediate, her face scrunched in an attempt to stop the tears, but they’re already flowing and her face turned red from anger and confusion. Peter stopped her as she tried to wrestle out of his grip. In the end he pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back and she let out a muffled sob.
“But we aren’t giving up,” he continued in a firm voice, making sure she hears him, “I’m going to put my nerd brain into overdrive and try making something from scratch. I wasn’t Tony Stark’s intern for nothing. And what’s a little research into multiversal travel and quantum physics between friends anyway.”
She huffed a bit, then she was laughing and clinging onto him.
“All we need is a little hope and we can get through this. We can find our way home. After all, rebellions are built on hope.”
————— Bonus:
After finally getting the calculations right, Felicia and Peter managed to open a portal back to their world, only to be faced with the battle on Titan. They immediately jumped into the battle, wading their way through the battle to get to their purple target. Felicia started with a flurry of attacks and Peter webbed him up from a distance, creating openings for his partner.
“Children have no place on a battlefield. You are too puny and weak, both just small nuisances.” Thanos said with his whole chest. But the two heroes could tell he was winded.
As the fight dragged on, Thanos managed to get a few dirty hits in. So Peter joined in the close-combat as well, fluidly weaving into Felicia’s deadly dance. Soon, the two are pushing him back. Shooting a tendril onto one wrinkly purple leg, sticking his feat to the ground and pulling, Felicia manages to kick him down. Peter joined her where she had a leg on the alien’s chest that was pushing down with enough force to make a slight dent in his chest.
“Judge me by my size do you?” Peter mocked with a smirk, pulling the gauntlet from the alien’s limp hand. Felicia had a similar feral grin as she caught the reference, then she dug her heel deeper into the purple genocidal maniac. “It would be wise for you to remember size matters not”
“Who are you?” Thanos grunted.
Peter cocked his head and put the gauntlet on, feeling the familiar energy surge through him in acceptance.
“I’m a simple spider making his way through the multiverse like my father before me.”