Sprawled across Peter’s bed were newspaper clippings listing part time job offerings in Gotham. Of course, whenever Aunt May knocked, he had to frantically scatter all the papers in case she found out what he did but otherwise he managed to find a few such as pizza delivery at Dominos and much to his surprise, cashier at McDonalds. How something as colourful as McDonalds made its way to Gotham, Peter didn’t know but he figured it probably got robbed every other Tuesday.

Aunt May knocked the door and Peter quickly scattered all the papers, each of them flying around his room and landing in all sorts of places.

“Peter,” Aunt May called, her voice muffled by the door. “The Wayne boy is here. Says he came here to pick you up.”

“Oh shit,” Peter mumbled under his breath. He had been so caught up with finding a job he had forgotten to put his socks on.

“Tell him to come in!” Peter called out to Aunt May. “I still have to get ready.”

Aunt May sighed. Even though they were separated by a door Peter could still imagine the exasperated look on her face and her hands on her hip, a pose that almost always said ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed.’

“Peter Parker,” Aunt May said. “All you had to do was put on some socks.”

Peter searched under his bed. “I know, I know,” Peter replied.

“The shoes are in a box right outside your doorstep,” May said.

And sure, enough they were. Some fancy branded shoes that Aunt May had bought despite Peter’s objections. Looking at them made Peter feel guilty (again). She had spent her money on those shoes just for this party, even though they had rent to pay. Peter told himself he would never take her for granted again.

“I know,” Peter said.

“You better be ready by the time I open the door for your friend,” May said.

Peter smiled. Good old Aunt May. He went underneath his bed, shuffling around spare web fluid cartridges, his sewing kit and for some reason he found his Captain America action figure he had as a kid before finally feeling the silky goodness of a warm pair of socks.

“Good evening Mrs. Parker,” Dick said as the door creaked open. “Peter didn’t tell me had such a pretty Aunt.”

He could imagine Aunt May’s smile. “What a charmer,” Aunt May said. “Peter is still busy with some science thing. You know he is. But I can give you some tea if you want.”

“Oh no, it’s fine…” their voices trailed off as Peter found a pair of socks. One a nice formal shade of brown, the other…

White with multi-coloured stars dotting the surface.

Peter groaned.

“Pretty quaint place you got here Mrs. Parker,” Dick said.

Aunt May laughed. “Oh, you don’t have to be so nice Mr. Wayne.”

“The surname’s Grayson,” Dick said. There was a short silence. “Mr. Grayson. But please call me Richard.”

“Ok, Richard,” Aunt May said, Peter could here tea pouring into a cup. “This place, to put it lightly is crap.”

Richard laughed. “I didn’t expect you to say that Mrs. Parker.”

Aunt May chuckled. “This old lady is still full of surprises.”

“Well compared to Wayne Manor,” Dick said. “This place is a paradise. I’d take this place over Bruce and Alfred being down my throat any day.”

“Well maybe you should trade places with us,” May said. “We’d gladly take the manor.”

Dick laughed. “It would teach Bruce some humility that’s for sure.”

Peter let out a quite “Aha!” as he found the other brown sock.

As he put the socks on, he heard a knock on his door. “Peter, hurry up. Your friend is waiting.”

“Yeah, let me just put my shoes on,” Peter said. He put on his shoes and looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting his collars and dusting out his suit, a bright blue blazer with blue pants, a red tie and white shirt. He wished Ben was still alive to see him in this suit, they had made a bet ages ago about whether or not it would fit. Peter would have loved to see the look on his face when he did.

“Took you long enough,” Dick said. He was wearing a black suit with a shiny dark blue waistcoat with a white shirt underneath.

“I couldn’t find my socks,” Peter said. “Sorry for holding you up.”

Dick laughed. Before leaving he thanked Aunt May.

“You be careful out there, Peter,” Aunt May said. “And don’t take any drinks from strangers.”

“I’ll keep him in check Mrs. Parker,” Dick said.

“You better,” Aunt May said.

“See you later May,” Peter said.

“Bye Pete,” Aunt May said. “Take care.”

The door creaked behind them and Dick grinned at Peter.

“Ever been in a limo before?”

“Look at this apartment and think about how stupid your question is,” Peter said.

Dick laughed. “You won’t be running your mouth like that when you see the surprise, I have in store for you.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I doubt anything you do will surprise me.”

“Oh, you have no idea my friend,” Dick said.

The limousine was a sleek black vehicle that looked very out of place surrounded by the run-down apartments and cracked pavements of the curb it was parked in. Standing by the door was a skinny yet elegant old man who bowed when he saw Dick and Peter walking toward him.

“Master Grayson,” he said as Dick entered the car at the front seat. He nodded at Peter. “Mr. Parker.”

Peter didn’t realise just how hot it was this evening, especially since he was wearing his Spider suit underneath his already stuffy suit.

“Yo Pete,” Dick said. “You gonna be keeping us waiting any longer?”

“Sorry,” Peter said. Us? What did he mean by us? Peter assumed it was the valet. He entered the back of the limousine and almost had a heart attack when he saw who was sitting across him.

“Peter Parker, I assume,” said Bruce Wayne. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Bruce Wayne though I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

…

The boy was quite literally shaking. Bruce could see beads of sweat running down his neck.

“M-Mr. Wayne,” Peter stammered, as the car started up.

Bruce smiled to ease his tension. If he was less tense, Peter would be more likely to open up. “Please, call me Bruce.”

“B-Bruce,” Peter said. “I-I’m a huge fan.”

Bruce smirked. “I know. I saw your essay.”

Peter face-palmed and let out a shaky laugh. “I almost forgot. Where are my manners?”

He reached in for a handshake which Bruce returned heartily.

“You look very tense,” Bruce said.

Peter let out another tense laugh. “I’m sorry… it’s just you’re one of my heroes and it’s… such an honour to be meeting you face to face.”

“Well it’s a long ride to Wayne Manor so please relax,” Bruce said. “Besides let me tell you something my father told me when I was young and something, I’ve learnt was true as I grew up.”

“That is? Mr. Wayne, sir.”

“Don’t look forward to meeting your heroes,” Bruce said. “They might not always be what you expect.”

…

Peter could not believe Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne was sitting right across him. And there was no doubt it was him. It was the same clean shaven, slicked back black hair, broad shoulders and blue eyes he saw on TV and in the newspapers and magazines. Peter had to stop himself multiple times from screaming in excitement.

“Richard tells me you’re from New York,” Bruce said. “What brings you to a place such as Gotham?”

“Well I managed to land myself a scholarship at Gotham High,” Peter said. “My Aunt and Uncle were excited at the opportunity I could be attending such a prestigious school so we decided to move in here.”

“But Gotham?” Bruce said. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about the crime and that bat vigilante stirring up trouble around here? Surely you could have studied somewhere else?”

Peter sighed. “My Aunt and Uncle are poor but they’ve always wanted the best for me ever since I was a kid. They wouldn’t just settle for less, especially when it came to me. That’s why we decided to move in here.”

And the best I could ever offer to them was getting Uncle Ben shot, Peter thought bitterly.

“I’m sorry for making this all depressing,” Peter said suddenly.

Bruce waved his hands, smiling a warm smile. “No problem Peter.”

There was something irking Peter at the back of his mind. A thought Peter immediately dismissed. But there was something in Bruce Wayne’s eyes that showed that he was looking for something more than a casual conversation. It was almost as if he was probing him, analysing him.

Bruce leaned back, pouring a glass of wine into a glass. “I’m sure you read the newspapers.”

“Yeah I do,” Peter said. “Why?”

Bruce leaned forward. “I’m sure you know about this new vigilante… The one they call Spiderman.”

…

At the name of Spiderman, Peter shuffled a little in his seat. Bruce noticed creases in the boy’s suit, he was tensing up.

Bingo.

“He seems a little young, doesn’t he?” Bruce asked, taking a sip out of his glass. “A little too young to be dealing with the likes of the Falcone family.”

Peter laughed. It was a forced laugh, a nervous one. “Well he isn’t the brightest lightbulb in the box.”

“Some might say he’s a little reckless,” Bruce said. “A little in over his head.”

“Well you could say the same thing about the Batman, couldn’t you?” Peter asked. “Sorry if I’m being a little intense Mr. Wayne but we’re talking about a crazy guy in a suit with access to all sorts of high-tech weapons and the police are doing nothing about him?”

“I don’t like the Batman either but at least he seems professional,” Bruce said. “This Spiderman is a nuisance and interferes with police business. He’s a daredevil with no respect for procedure.”

“So, Batman can drive on top of people’s roofs on his Batmobile but Spiderman is a daredevil?” Peter said.

Bruce chuckled. “Touché. You have me speechless and that isn’t something that happens often.”

Bruce poured himself another glass of brandy, the brown liquid licking the walls of the rugged edges of the glass.

“But I wonder,” Bruce said, thoughtfully glancing upwards. “I wonder why this Spider-man does what he does? Kid like him could literally be doing anything else rather than stopping Mafia drug deals and bank robbers. I bet he’d be great on TV.”

“Well maybe he just wants to do the right thing,” Peter said.

Bruce took a sip off his brandy. “Could be.”

He stared at Peter’s blue eyes. “One can’t help but wonder though.”

…

The limo went over a gravel road, rumbling through a sandy road with pine trees surrounding it.

“Looks like we’re almost there,” Bruce noted.

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Can’t wait.”

Bruce smiled. “You seem excited.”

Peter nodded. “Yep, this is my first-time seeing Wayne Manor.” Peter shook his head. “I mean, your house.”

“Please feel free to call it Wayne Manor,” Bruce said. “My ego needs a little bit of feeding from time to time.”

Peter chuckled. “Noted.”

There was a short silence as the engine of the limo hummed. The silence was broken up by Bruce.

“So, Dick tells me you’re one of the smartest people he’s met,” Bruce said.

Peter scratched his hair. “That’s a bit of an understatement.”

“He says you get higher grades than him in your science quizzes.”

“Well that’s true,” Peter said.

“Are you good with technology?” Bruce asked.

Peter shrugged. “Somewhat. I built a computer from scratch once.”

“Interesting,” Bruce said stroking his chin. He opened up a cabinet at the bottom of his seat and pulled out a red and blue giftbox that was so small it could fit in Peter’s pocket.

“What’s that?” Peter asked.

“A bunch of electronics and spare parts from Wayne Tech’s science division, transistors, lights, the works,” Bruce said. “I want you to have it.”

Peter’s eyes widened. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Bruce returned the grin with a smile.

“No way,” Peter said, his eyes shining with delight.

“Yes way,” Bruce said. “Dick told me he’s seen what you could do with a bunch of bleach and household items. Now I want to see what you could do with some Waynetech. Albeit not as advanced as the ones our top scientists use but…” Bruce shrugged. “I’m sure someone with your talents can do something with it.”

“Thank you so much Mister…”

“Please call me Bruce.”

“Mister Bruce,” Peter said ecstatically, basically yanking the red and blue giftbox from Bruce’s hands and putting it in his coat pocket. “I’ll show you what I can do!”

“I look forward to it.”

As the car shook its way through the road Bruce noticed a sliver of red underneath the white shirt Peter wore.

You’re in for a long night Spiderman, Bruce thought as the Limo pulled up at the gates of Wayne Manor.

…

The Manor was decorated with blue. Blue ribbons twirled around the roof with the words “WAYNE ANNUAL GALA” plastered on them in white. Blue ice figures were up against the wall and the lights were off.

“Alright Pete,” Dick said. “Let me show you around the manor.”

Bruce shook his head. “I’ll show him around the mansion.”

“Won’t you be busy?” Peter asked.

Bruce tapped Peter’s back. “Nonsense! Let me show you around, my treat. Dick here will greet the guests.”

‘Greeting the guests’ also meant looking out for Penguin’s goons. Bruce started talking about the mansion and its history (history being when Bruce was born until now) while Dick went out in the freezing cold, ‘greeting the guests.’

The manor was soon filled with a bunch of rich people but no sign of Penguin’s guys. From out of nowhere a police car appeared, completely out of place amidst the Lamborghinis and Ferraris of Gotham’s rich and pretentious. Barbara appeared from the front seat wearing a black dress with yellow highlights by her sides. Her hair was tied up in a red bun and her smile was made even more gorgeous from the red lipstick she put on it.

“Damn Barbara if it wasn’t for the police car, I wouldn’t know it was you,” Dick said. Commissioner Gordon opened up the window, wearing a stuffy black suit he clearly looked uncomfortable in. His tie was askew and his red hair looked like it was combed at the last minute.

“Hey kid,” Gordon said. “Stop flirting with my daughter and tell me where to park.”

Barbara gave Gordon the “Oh my god dad” stare. Dick laughed and showed him where to go.

“I’m surprised your dad’s not working,” Dick said to Barbara. “I thought he’d be up at GCPD by the Bat signal.”

Barbara shrugged. “I mean we all need a break and dad wouldn’t say no to a free drink.”

“I mean if I had to deal with Bruce’s antics for seven straight years, I’d need a drink too,” Dick said.

Barbara laughed. “Tell me about it but damn…”

She stared at Dick’s suit. “Blue and black suits you. Pun intended.”

Dick chuckled. “You think?”

“Yeah, maybe you should tell Bruce,” Barbara said. “Change the Robin suit from red and yellow to black and blue.”

“Yeah like he’d let that happen.”

“You never know.”

Dick and Barbara entered the mansion and started their stakeout. They decided to split up, Dick taking the stairs and Barbara searching through the guests.

“I almost forgot to ask,” Barbara said through her phone. “Where’s Peter?”

“The prodigal son is with Bruce,” Dick said, noticing Bruce and Peter amidst the crowd and Bruce introducing him to two of Gotham’s aristocrats. “Bruce is showing him off. He never showed me off like that when I was a kid.”

“Aww, you jealous,” Barbara said. Dick noticed Barbara walking amongst the crowd with her phone to her ear. Dick almost forgot how pretty she was until he saw her from afar. He felt his heart ache a little.

“Dick, are you alive?” Barbara said, snapping him out of his self-pitying. “Hellooo.”

“Yeah, yeah sorry, just zoned out for a second.”

Dick thought he saw someone that looked like Penguin amidst the crowd but it was just a fat person. “I have the right to be jealous Barbs. I’m supposed to be his son.”

“Aww, little Richard Grayson is jelly.”

Dick smiled. “Shut up.”

Suddenly Dick saw an all to familiar face. It was Skinner, one of Penguin’s top goons wearing a shirt this time around. He was standing in the corner, shaking nervously with a walkie-talkie in his hand.

“Yo Barbs,” Dick said. “Skinner is here.”

“What’s he up to?” Barbara asked.

“He’s in the corner by the Left wing,” Dick said. “He’s holding a walkie-talkie so Penguin must be here.”

“Got it,” Barbara said. “I’ll go message Bruce.”

Amidst the crowd of Gotham’s aristocrats, Bruce’s pager beeped in his pocket. Bruce pulled it out:

“The bird is in the nest.”

Bruce eyed Peter who walked up to him.

“Hey Mr. Wayne,” Peter asked. “Where did D… I mean Richard go?”

Bruce smiled. “I don’t know.” Though Peter could see his smile was a little tense. “Excuse me Pete, I got to go up stage.”

Peter’s spider-sense was buzzing wildly again. But he couldn’t see anything dangerous in his immediate site. He wanted to believe it was just his anxiety being amongst so many judgemental rich people but his spider-sense was never wrong.

Bruce suddenly walked to a stage that was setup in the middle of the hall. A stage with glowing blue curtains. He tapped against the mic.

“Excuse me,” Bruce said, returning to that charming smile of his. “Excuse me everybody.”

The entire crowd turned to face Bruce who grinned at them.

“Now I’m sure I know why most of you are here at the Wayne Family Annual Gala,” Bruce said. “And its most definitely not to donate.”

The crowd clapped at that statement. Bruce waited for them to quiet down before he continued.

“Yes, as we all know today, we’ll be carrying out a bid,” Bruce said. “And whoever bids the highest gets to go on a joyride with none other than me. Of course, the bids are going to charity but worry not people, your money is not going to waste. I heard I make good company especially when there’s a bottle of champagne in the mix.”

The crowd laughed.

“Without further ado,” Bruce said. “Let the bidding begin!”

The crowd cheered.

“One million,” a drunk girl blurted out.

Bruce smirked. “One million dollars. Going once…”

“One point five million,” said a classy old man.

“One point five million,” Bruce said. “I’m disappointed, that first bidder seemed like a treat.”

The bids started increasing. 2 million, 2.5 million. Peter wondered how people could blow that much money for nothing more than a ride with Bruce Wayne. Peter could use that money to pay an entire lifetime of rent. Peter wanted to believe it was because the money was going to charity but deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case.

And so, the bids skyrocketed.

10 million.

25 million.

50 million.

75 million.

Gunshot.

That snapped everybody’s attention away.

“How bout you return the money your family stole from me, eh Brucey Boy?” said a short man with a British accent that Peter felt was forced.

Bursting in out of nowhere was Oswald Cobblepot and a group of thugs carrying automatic weapons. Penguin held his umbrella up high, smoke trailing from the tip of the umbrella.

The crowd tried to flee but the Penguin’s thugs fired their weapons up in the air. The crowd let out a scream and huddled together, crying and whimpering.

Barbara took this as an opportunity to blend in amongst the crowds and crouch away. Her suit was in the Batcave and the Wayne Manor had many passageways that lead to it. Meanwhile her father was looking for her, scanning the crowds to make sure his little girl was safe.

Peter also took this as an opportunity to hide away, trying to look for a room he could change into his costume.

“Now will Mr. Wayne kindly hand himself over,” the Penguin said. “Or I will start killing people here one by one.”

Bruce walked in front of the crowd, hands raised in surrender. Smiling. “No need to blow things out of proportion Oswald.”

“Oh, Brucey boy you’re too naïve for your own good.” Oswald called one of the goons who hit Bruce across the nose with his gun. The crowd let out a gasp. Bruce collapsed on the ground, nose bleeding. Staring at Cobblepot with pure hatred in his eyes. What he’d give to beat the crap out of him right now. But he couldn’t, not in front of a crowd like this. Cobblepot pulled him by his hair, making him stare straight into his beady black eyes.

“Boy am I going to have fun with you,” Cobblepot said. “Boys, take him away.”

Penguin’s thugs dragged him. Bruce gave Cobblepot a look. A look very few people had given him. A look of defiance that the Penguin was very used to. But all it took was one gunshot or a word with one of his men and that look was wiped clean from their face like a bar of soap had washed over them.

Penguin ordered one of his men to knock him across the face for good measure. The crowd obviously let out another gasp, rich bastards were obviously not used to such violence. One of the men kicked him across the face for good measure but Bruce still had that look, despite his perfect hair being tousled and his face bruised. There was a coldness to them that made Penguin’s gut turn, twist in fear.

But his men would wipe that look right off his face, no problem. One of his men raised their guns to knock him across the face.

When a web ripped that gun straight off his hand causing it to dangle on the roof. The crowd looked upwards to see a man dressed in red and blue spandex who jumped down, standing in front of Penguin.

“Hey Penguin,” said Spider-man. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

Spider-man paused, sizing him up. “Oh… oh wait.”

The Penguin growled. “Get him boys!”

Spider-man leapt into the air and the battle begun.