The rest of her day was a blur. She recalled Bruce and Dick arguing about her in the Batcave, Dick storming off and Bruce going back to his work. She recalled giving her mum and by extension her dad a half-hearted excuse by telling them that she was at her friend’s house for the night. She the text she got from Peter, replying with an It’s okay that felt like it took her ages to type.

Barbara didn’t realise just how exhausted she was until she sat on the seat. Every muscle in her body was yelling at her to rest but every time she tried to close her eyes all she could see was the corpses of all those GCPD officers and Wilde’s face forever trapped in an expression of fear.

And to make matters worse there was another Joker announcement just as they entered the Batcave. It was posted on YouTube of all places found itself on a lot of d-list sites before it was taken down. The video was titled: HOW MANY PIECES OF DYNAMITE CAN A MAN FIT IN HIS MOUTH?!?

“Hello and good evening, Clownies,” The Joker said in that annoying voice that made the anger in Barbara flare up. The Joker was in some unidentified warehouse. GCPD officers stormed the warehouse minutes later to find a corpse and a broken phone.

“Now before I get to the video,” the Joker said. “I’d like to give a shoutout to the sponsor of this…”

There was muffled crying.

“Oh, shut up, you,” the Joker said. “Yes, I know this is annoying but a man’s gotta eat. I swear if anybody skips past this part, I’m going to kill…”

There was the sound of something clattering on the floor. The Joker sighed. “Oh, come on.”

The Joker was off camera for a while before he came back.

He sighed. “Speaking of money. Thanks to the YouTube algorithm, The Joker’s Daily killings will be on hold for a week.” The Joker feigned a sad face. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just a time sink you know? I spend too much time on those videos and YouTube just removes them and quite frankly I’m a little burnt out.”

The Joker stared at the corner of the screen. “What do you mean there’s a YouTube policy guideline? Do you see the other videos they post on this site?”

The Joker stood up. “But you came here because you read the title, didn’t you and you’re curious?” the Joker said. He picked up his camera and swung it to a man tied to a chair, beads of sweat running down his face and his body shaking like he was having a seizure. “Before I do that, I’d just like to say daily killing.” The Joker cringed. “Not really daily is it? If it’s returning next week?” The Joker shrugged. “Anyways, daily killing will be returning next week with a bang! Believe me when I say our next host is going to be a brute of a man.”

The Joker laughed maniacally. “Now let’s get back to what we all came for, shall we?”

The man started letting out muffled screams, shaking the chair he was sitting on as the Joker started strapping pieces of from a purple giftbox onto him.

“Ooh, poor little man wet himself,” the Joker said with a shrill laugh. “He’s quite a stinker!”

The man let out desperate cries as the Joker strapped pieces of dynamite on him.

“Can we have a round of applause for Desmond Cain,” the Joker said. “You’d have to be nuts to have this much dynamite strapped onto you.”

After emptying out the box to the point where Desmond was wrapped in an armour of dynamite save for his pale face trapped in fear. A type of fear that could only be seen as a man facing something he has never seen before, the type of fear of a man facing a monster.

The Joker struck a match. The fire lit one of the sticks of dynamite by the Desmond’s mouth.

“50 sticks!” The Joker exclaimed. “50! Look at this madlad… is that what the kids say? I better get out of here.”

The Joker waved at the camera. “See you all next week!”

The Joker left but the camera was focused on Desmond whose face was pale. There was a stain on his pants. A tear streaked down his cheek as the fuse was swallowed away by the fire.

Barbara almost passed out when she saw it. Later she would laugh at the thought of fainting, what a girly thing to do. Bruce and some GCPD officers stormed the area, leaving Dick behind to ‘take care of her’. They found out the body was weeks old. The victim was Desmond Cain a vlogger who had come over to Gotham to visit his parents. His parents’ rotting corpses were found in their apartment.

When Bruce got back, both him and Dick got into an argument.

“You have to take her off the team, Bruce,” Dick said. “This isn’t healthy for her.”

“She’ll be fine,” Bruce said.

Dick scoffed. “Fine? Fine? She’s only been responding me through nods and shaking her head. She’s anything but fine.”

“She’s just in shock.”

“Of course, she’s in shock,” Dick said. “You saw what that monster did. I’d be pretty fucked up after that too.”

Bruce was silent.

Dick sighed. “Look Bruce, I don’t know what your endgame is but leave her out of this. I told you before that I don’t want her dragged into our mess.” Dick clenched his fist. “And I’ll say it again. Keep her out of this Joker stuff, it’s not good for her.” Dick turned to her, there was a mellow expression on his face. He turned to face Bruce and his expression changed. “But knowing you, you won’t listen to me. You won’t listen to anyone.”

Dick walked away from him. He stopped in front of her, kneeling down and smiled at her. Barbara couldn’t help but smile back, his smile was always so god damn infectious.

“Look, I’m going to get you some coffee,” Dick said. “Maybe some caffeine will get that mouth of yours running, especially after what I said to Bruce.” Dick shrugged. “Just keep your head up, Freckles.”

Dick headed off. Barbara remembered when they were in a relationship back when they were 14. She remembered how he’d always call her Freckles, how he knew a lot more than he let on, how he’d always smile at her from afar. He was a cocky asshole but once you got to know him, he’d reveal a soft, caring and warm interior. But there was always one problem, they’d be times when he’d ditch dates out of the blue and Barbara was not having any of that. Later she’d find out that charming and handsome Dick Grayson was none other than the charismatic boy wonder and their relationship would change forever.

When she became Batgirl, she saw a side of him she never saw before. He was protective. Very protective. He would always worry about her and sometimes even argue with her when she got hurt. And Barbara knew she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to be protected. She made her choice to join this war against the criminals of Gotham no matter what it threw at her. She promised to fight against the bastards that snuff out all the good Gotham has to offer, people like her dad, people like the cops who don’t take bribes or look the other way. It was her choice. She chose the danger and she didn’t want to be protected from it. She understood why Dick worried about her the way he did but she also realised that his love wasn’t the love she needed. And soon they broke up. Dick didn’t talk to her for months but soon he understood. She didn’t want to be protected by Dick, by her father, by anybody.

After the events of tonight, Barbara wasn’t so sure anymore.

A huge shadow was cast over her, it was Bruce. She looked up a little, Bruce was facing away from her, still in his Batsuit minus the cowl.

“You’re not as talkative as usual,” Bruce said.

At that Barbara smirked. “Can you blame me?”

Bruce sat by her side, practically bending over to talk to her. “What’s wrong?”

Hearing that surprised Barbara. Bruce wasn’t the type to ask if someone was okay, let alone sit next to them.

There was a silence hanging over them. Barbara had her palms crossed over her thighs. She tapped her finger against her knee and after a short pause sighed.

“I knew those people Bruce,” Barbara said. “I knew their families. Dad used to take me around the precinct sometimes and sure some of them were assholes but they had families, they had people who loved them.”

She closed her eyes, let out a long sigh and opened them again. “And now… now they’re…” She couldn’t bring herself to say gone. She couldn’t believe they were dead. She didn’t want to believe they were dead. She didn’t want to believe they had been killed so mercilessly, to believe their deaths meant nothing to that monster. She had seen the bodies or what remained of them. She didn’t believe one man could be so cruel. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

“I don’t know what scares me most, Bruce,” she said, turning to face him with tears welling up in her eyes. “The fact that a man like that exists or the fact that I feel so empty. I feel so… hollow. They had families and friends and children and I feel… I feel nothing.”

Tears started running down her cheeks like waterfalls and her body couldn’t stop shaking no matter how hard she tried to make it stop.

Bruce put a hand on her shoulder.

“When we started this whole thing,” Bruce said. “Your father told me something. He told me he wouldn’t give up until he made this city safe for his little girl. Safe enough to walk these streets without having to watch her back. What he doesn’t know is that now you’re a part of keeping these streets safe, keeping them clean.”

“What are you trying to say Bruce?”

“You shouldn’t give up either,” Bruce said. “None of us should give up until people like Joker are locked up so that they don’t harm others again. Your father wouldn’t want us to give up and neither would those cops who have been killed.”

Bruce swung his hands back on his side. “We’ve got to keep fighting. We’ve got to keep hoping. For a better future and a better Gotham.”

Barbara stopped shaking and her thoughts stopped spiralling. She thought about why she became Batgirl. Sure, it started off as a joke, to make fun of her overprotective father who didn’t want her to be a cop. But as Batgirl she realised something. She realised how little change she’d bring as a police officer and how much more she could do (as hilarious as it sounded) dressed up as a bat. Batgirl was her chance to be more than what she was, to do more than what her father and her mother wanted her to do. And she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

She may have not been able to protect those police officers when they needed her the most. But she could avenge them. Avenge them for their families and loved ones.

Her voice was no longer shaky, it was firm. “You’re right, Bruce. I’m not giving up.”

Bruce nodded. “Good.” He got up and turned to face her. His face was calm, his blue eyes were as cold as ice. “If your father could see this, he’d be proud of you.”

Barbara smiled and nodded. “I’m going to go hit the hay, thanks for the pep talk.” She turned. “And Bruce, you’re not as cold as everybody thinks.”

Bruce was going through ACE chemical blueprints on his computer and there was no indication that he heard her.

She sighed. “Never mind.”

Bats screeched and water dripped as Barbara’s footsteps receded from the Batcave.

…

“Just put the battery there and…”

There was a loud zapping noise as both Peter and Adrian backed away from the red shell that made up the electromagnet they had been working on throughout the afternoon. It was a Sunday afternoon and Peter didn’t have any work, Mr. Toomes had texted him the previous night while he was out on patrol about managing to the find the parts. Peter went to meet him the following day to get what he’d need to take on the Vulture if he decided to show his ugly wings but mainly to avoid meeting Aunt May’s eyes because of the guilt that hurt his heart when he thought about how he’d been treating her these past few days.

“Aha,” Adrian said. “Bingo. Now we just gotta tighten the screws on the lid, Peter if you would do the honours.”

Peter nodded, he removed his gloves and held on to the lid. He was about to put it on when Adrian called out to him.

“Gloves on,” Adrian said. “You don’t want to get electrocuted now. Do you?”

“But we did everything right,” Peter said.

Adrian shook his head. “Don’t get too cocky kid. Specially when you dealing with electricity. Besides I’ll tell you something my science teach always used to tell me back in college: Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Sounds boring.”

Adrian laughed. “He was. But his advice was on point.”

Peter groaned and put on his rubber gloves before screwing on the lid. The inside of the electromagnet was a tangle of wires connected to a large battery in the left corner. Peter managed to put this all together with a little help from Adrian who expressed his surprise at how fast Peter picked stuff up.

He put the lid on and looked around for the screwdriver. On top of the red casing was a small button in the left corner. The electromagnet was around fifteen centimetres wide and had no remote control. If Peter was to use it against the Vulture, he’d have to get up close and personal, something Peter wasn’t very ecstatic about. The battery looked like a really small red lunchbox. If it wasn’t full of wires trailing through the inside and a really powerful battery Peter would probably be taking this to the cafeteria.

Peter found a screwdriver with a bright green handle and started screwing the lid shut. After doing that he pressed the button and…

“Bingo,” Peter said as the battery emitted a faint but calming hum.

“Atta boy, kid,” Adrian said, slapping him against the back. “Keep this up and you’ll be getting yourself a scholarship in Harvard in no time.”

Peter grinned as Adrian mumbled “Got some muscle on you.” It was at that moment Peter got a call. He took out his phone and almost had a heart attack when he saw the caller ID.

“Jesus kid, you look like you won a million dollars.”

Peter was breathless. “I…” Peter looked at Adrian and back at the phone in disbelief. “I think I did.”

The caller ID was Barbara’s. peter had no idea how he was going to answer it, his mind was swimming and couldn’t, he felt that if he answered he’d be struggling to form a sentence. He felt that he’d fudge up a few words and say something stupid and Barbara would call him a loser.

He pressed the answer button.

“H-Hey Barbara,” Peter said. His body felt like it was burning, for some reason he was sweating. God damn it Parker, Peter thought. You’re such a loser.

“Hi, Pete,” Barbara said. “I got your message. Sorry for not calling you sooner, I’ve been busy.”

“I-It’s alright,” Peter said. He turned to see Adrian with a big grin on his face, smooching the air. Peter wanted nothing more than to tell him shut it but he knew if he whispered something, Barbara would probably pick it up.

“Look I’m…”

“Sorry for not replying sooner,” Barbara said.

“I uh, wanted to apologise first,” Peter said. “I mean we… I mean I.” Peter cleared his throat. “I made this plan and then I bailed like an idiot. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Barbara said. “I understand Pete. Believe me when I say I know a thing or two about bossy managers.”

Peter chuckled. “Bet your boss has nothing on mine.”

“You’d be surprised,” Barbara said.

There was a short silence, what was only a second felt like hours to Peter. Peter was about to say something but Barbara beat him to the punch.

“I’m still down,” Barbara said. “For a date.”

Peter was quiet for a moment. And then realisation set on him.

“A DATE?” Peter said, a little too loud.

“That is what you said it was,” Barbara said. “Unless you meant otherwise?”

“No, no,” Peter said, a little too suddenly. “It’s uh… it’s a date.”

“Cool,” Barbara said. “How about next week? On a Saturday night.”

Peter nodded and then stopped himself realising that he was speaking on a smartphone. “Yeah. Totally. 100 percent.”

“That sounded sarcastic,” Barbara said.

“Yeah,” Peter said. The fact that it was a date still hadn’t crossed his mind yet, or maybe it had. Peter didn’t know, his head was in the clouds. “I mean no, no. It wasn’t sarcastic.”

Barbara giggled again, the sound of which made Peter’s heart skip a beat. “You sound really cute when you’re nervous.” There was a pause. “See you next week?”

Peter nodded then internally face-palmed. “Yep, see you next week.”

Barbara hung up. Peter was grinning like a peacock. Can peacock’s even grin? Peter didn’t know and he didn’t care. He was going on a date with Barbara Gordon. He was about to speak to Adrian’s when he felt someone slap his back. Very hard.

“Mr. Parker here has a date,” Adrian said, an even bigger grin on his face. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Shut up,” Peter stammered. “It’s not that huge.”

Adrian grinned. “Sure, sure.” He walked over to his stove, shuffling through his shelf. “You want some coffee before you head for your job?”

Peter’s head was in the clouds that he forgot about the fact that he had a job cleaning up mouldy slushie remains on the McDonalds restaurant floor.

“Is it expired.”

Adrian turned the box around and squinted. “By a day. Just bought it too.”

Peter sat down on a chair and looked around Adrian’s messy home. It may have been shabby and run-down but part of Peter found it very simple and quaint. When he grew up, he’d love to live in a hut or something, spending most of his time building things. And speaking of building things.

“What’s underneath that sheet?” Peter said, turning his head to a green sheet surrounded by wires and a tangle of electrical tools. The machine or whatever it was, was fully covered almost as if it was underneath a veil. Whatever it was, it was the size of a large bookshelf and took up most of the room corner.

“Don’t touch it,” Adrian said quickly. “It’s dangerous.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Peter said, peering at it curiously. “What is it?”

“Just something my daughter wanted me to build ages ago,” Adrian said. “Still working on it though.”

Adrian walked over to Peter carrying two mugs of coffee. He gave one to Peter before sitting down across him.

“But forget about that,” Adrian said. “Let’s talk about your date.”

“It’s not a date.”

Adrian scoffed, taking a sip from his coffee. “That’s not what I heard.” He leaned forward. “And my ears never lie.”

Peter sighed and then shrugged. “It’s a date, so what?”

Adrian put his mug on the table. “Besides hearing the big d-word, I also heard a lot of uhs and ums. That’s not going to fly, Pete let me tell you.”

“That’s just how I talk,” Peter said defensively. “I mean come on, not a big deal.”

Adrian shook his head. “No, no Peter. It is a big deal. When you’re on a date you gotta cut all these filler words. No man stole a girl’s heart by saying uh and um.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“First thing’s first,” Adrian said. “Back straight. Good posture shows you’re more assertive. Second if you’re going somewhere fancy order the fanciest drink there, shows you’re sophisticated. Lastly cut out all those uhs of yours. Never, ever say “I think”. Girls want a guy who knows what he wants.”

“And how do you know all that?” Peter asked. “You don’t speak for Barbara.”

“How dare you, Peter?” Adrian said, grinning. “I was like you when I was your age. A typical old wallflower. Hell, I still was when I was in college. My eyes were focused on books instead of girls.” There was a smile on Adrian’s face as he started getting lost in his memory, his face had a bright glow to. For a moment he looked as if he was a teenager again. “But Peter, there was this one girl.” He smiled. “This one pretty brunette with the prettiest smile and nicest legs I ever saw. Whenever I talked to her I used to fumble all my words, sometimes felt like my heart was jumping outta my chest. Could barely hold a conversation with her, let alone say hi. Then one day my best friend, McCoy set up a date for me and gave me this bit of advice. He told me ‘Adrian, get a haircut, keep your back straight and please for the love of god stop talking like you’re about to get a seizure.’ I did all that but by god I was fumbling. It was all just icebreakers and short conversations with too long a pause in between them. That was until I brought up a book, some sci-fi book that she had read too and it was smooth sailing from there.”

Adrian chuckled. “After that, well you’ve seen the picture on my desk.”

Adrian was absolutely beaming, his eyes were bright and Peter could tell he was faraway, thinking about his wife and all the happy memories.

“W-what happened?” Peter asked, though he couldn’t bring himself to ask. “If you don’t mind me asking. What happened to your wife and kids?”

The happiness in Adrian’s face disappeared and Peter immediately felt guilty. Stupid Peter, why did he have to be so nosy?

“Look, I’m sorry,” Peter said quickly. “I didn’t mean to prey, I shouldn’t have…”

Adrian shook his head. “No, no it isn’t your fault. Don’t worry about it, Pete.”

There was an awkward pause and Peter wanted to apologise so, so badly. He was just about to when…

“We split up,” Adrian said, letting out a sigh, unable to meet Peter’s eyes. “She took the kid and…” Adrian scratched his head, messing what little hair there was on it. “Sometimes things don’t work out. Got way too caught up in my work that I barely got to see her. Sometimes, I…” He clenched his fist. “Snapped at her. Was stressed you see? Shouted my daughter once too and things just...” Adrian cleared his throat. “They fell apart, you see?”

There was a silence. A silence that looked like it weighed on Adrian as he sat with his shoulders hunched over and a distant look on his face.

Adrian cleared his throat and smiled. “But things like this happen all the time. Lost my job not long after and here I am now.”

Peter didn’t know what to say, he felt awful for bringing this up but he didn’t know how to apologise.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you be going for that job of yours?” Adrian said. “Won’t you be late?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, his voice trailing off.

“And Pete, a word of advice,” Adrian said. Peter stopped at the door and turned around. “No job is worth ignoring your family over. People running those companies, they don’t care about what happens to you. You can work your ass off and they’ll fire you to save costs. Your family though, your family is forever Pete. They’re the only ones who’ll ever give a damn.”

Peter nodded, taking that advice fully to heart. Peter would work extra hard today to make sure Aunt May got the medicine she needed.

“Now head on off to your job,” Adrian said. “You got no time to be wasting here.”

“Yeah.”

“And Pete,” Adrian said. “I said this before and I said it again, don’t come back here. It’s dangerous around these parts. I lost one family, don’t want to lose another one.”

Peter was dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe Adrian thought of him as family. He was so taken aback that he almost didn’t hear what else he had to say.

“Thanks a lot Pete,” Adrian said, grinning. “Hopefully I’ll get to see you around.”

Peter left the shack. Adrian made sure the kid had disappeared before turning to the green cover. He removed the cover revealing a pair of sleek silver wings that took up most of the corner.

The Spider-Brat did a number on those wings and if it wasn’t for old pointy ears and his co He bashed his fist against the desk, letting out a scream. Now, these wings

He turned his face, looking at the photo of his daughter and wife beaming at him. A reminder of a bygone era.

Adrian turned back and picked up a wrench, prying away the battery from the back of the wings. The picture of his wife’s smile and daughter’s pretty face being the fuel that ran through his muscles. He’ll get his vengeance and nothing, not even those broken wings, would get in the way. He’d make sure of that, one way or another.

…

They were like a production line, the Ace Chemicals cleaners as they were called around these parts. They were in charge with emptying the defective batches into the river, spilling out the pollution and filth into the lake where it would go into the ocean and kill all the fish. It wasn’t an honest job and it didn’t pay well but at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was that it paid.

Tom Marsh worked in this plant for fifteen whole years and he had the bleaches on his skin to show it. In those fifteen years to keep his head down and ask no questions. Those helped him keep his job for fifteen years, pay his kids’ school fees and pay the bills. It also stopped him from disappearing.

It was never wise to show you knew a lot in Ace Chemicals. The more you knew, the more likely you’d disappear.

And Tom Marsh. Tom Marsh knew a lot.

They were emptying out the cancer of ace chemicals into the river when one of his buddies Frank called him.

“Marsh,” Frank said. “Some Union guy’s calling you, says he wants to interview you.”

That was a surprise to Tom. Fifteen years working here, nobody asked about him. Whether it be a health and safety worker or some guy from a Union, Frank rarely had the presence to attract those folks in suits. He kept his head down for a reason.

“What’re you waiting for, Tom?” Frank said. “Get a move on.”

Tom walked through the rumbling hallways of Ace Chemicals. In the distance there was the clink of metals and the sizzling of chemicals. The hallways were claustrophobic and winding, the green of the various rooms reflecting off the concrete hallways like radioactive waste.

The Union guy was at the reception office. A pristine area where men and women walked back and forth in clean suits and neat ties. Where the clean white floor reflected the lights above. Where the receptionists flashed pretty smiles to the people that passed by and where Tom felt out of place. Hell, the people who passed by were staring at him like he was alien.

The Union guy also looked out of place. A beige waistcoat over a white formal shirt and black pants. He had a hat that reminded Tom of those old cowboy movies he used to watch and a pair of black glasses.

As soon as he saw Tom, he waved his hand and started walking toward him with a soft smile. There was something about his face that Tom found familiar, a face he saw on TV or something. Tom didn’t really care much. All he was concerned with was getting this interview or whatever the hell it was over with and get back to his job.

“Tom Rogan?” the man asked.

Tom nodded.

The man reached out a hand, Tom shook it.

“My name is Bob,” the man said. “Bob Williams. I’m a safety inspector, I’m here to ask you about working conditions and all that other stuff.”

“I didn’t hear about any safety inspection,” Tom said.

The man smiled. “Neither did I.”

Tom chuckled, letting go of the man’s hand. “Alright Mr. Williams. I’ll show you around this place. Just make sure the suits don’t know about this.”

Bob nodded. “I won’t.”

Tom smiled. “Now we’re on the same page.”

As Tom lead him to the factory, he couldn’t shake just how firm Bob’s handshake had been.

…

The mouldy slushie remains stuck to the hairs of the mop like a parasite. The water had soaked the colour out of the mould turning it into rainbow coloured syrup. Chad and Peter were tasked with cleaning off all this mould from the floor of the restaurant and making the place squeaky clean. Unfortunately for them, much like a spider the sludge stuck to the wall and much like spiderwebs they could be found in each and every corner. Not to mention that the smell was awful.

And while Chad and Peter were cleaning up, Troy (who had been snuggling up with Mr. Farook these past few weeks) were busy watching TV and laughing at each other’s jokes.

“Capitalism, man,” Chad said. “We need anarchy dude, anarchy.”

Peter was glad to see Chad back to his normal, conspiracy toting self. It made him feel happy that something he did in his life had done something positive. Peter may have felt like shit cleaning up rotten slushie sludge but he was glad he helped somebody out.

The constant chatter of Vicki Vale was interrupted by a sudden announcement. “Breaking news.”

Peter sighed. Probably something unimportant. He had work to do and he hoped he’d get paid extra for this.

“A man with giant wings has kidnapped Ace Chemicals CEO, Otto Drexar.”

Great, just great.

The face of the news announcer panned out to none other than Big Bird himself attaching four of his “feathers” on the roof of a black car. He pressed a button on his glove and the feathers yanked the roof off the car.

“He couldn’t do that before,” Peter mumbled.

There was the sound of gunfire as the Vulture swerved away from the car, diving in only to grab the men firing at him and tossing them on the road. He grabbed a man wearing a black suit who was clearly scared out of his mind before flying off, launching his feathers directly at the news copter.

The news reporter made mention that if you see anybody with wings flying around to inform the authorities. But Peter knew, Peter knew that the cops would be reduced to mincemeat before they even came a few inches before the Vulture.

Thankfully Peter had his costume underneath and his mask in his bag. He was about to leave until he remembered why he was here.

Aunt May. If she didn’t get the money… she’d… Peter shook his head. He knew May wouldn’t want him to worry about her but at the same time he knew that her job wouldn’t be enough. Peter needed to prove to Mr. Farook that he could work overtime.

But the Vulture. The Vulture would kill so many innocent people. He didn’t know why he wanted Otto Drexar but he knew he couldn’t let the cops handle him alone. And he didn’t know whether Batman and his Bat friends would get there in time.

Peter knew what he had to do.

“Parker,” Mr. Farook said, his voice as still as stone. “Where are you going with your bag?”

“My Aunt called…”

Mr. Farook shook his head. “This is the one-hundredth time you’ve made this excuse Parker. Your Aunt this and your Aunt that. I bought it the first time but you’ve been using it over and over.”

“Look I really need to go.”

“And I really need you to stay, Parker,” Mr. Farook said, crossing his arms. “To clean up the mess that you made.”

“Look I’m sorry,” Peter said, opening the glass doors. “This is really important.”

Mr. Farook slammed the glass door before Peter could leave. “Excuses, excuses excuses. It seems you’re full of them Mr. Parker. You come late to work, it’s because of school. You screw up an order, you were tired. You want to leave early, my Aunt is sick. I thought you wanting overtime was you finally learning some responsibility but no, turns out you just want more money without the work.”

“Look, Mr. Farook,” Peter said. “I really don’t have time for…”

“If you leave,” Mr. Farook said, the fire in his eyes starting to ignite. “You’re fired.”

“That’s unfair,” Peter said, staring him straight in the eyes. “You can’t just fire me for…”

“Oh, I have a reason, Mr. Parker,” Mr. Farook said. “Troy here has been working his ass off, following instructions and all around a perfect employee. Chad may make the bathrooms smell like pot but at least he gets his work done. You, Peter Parker, are way too busy chatting up skirts and using machines you’ve been expressly told not to use instead of doing your work so Mr. Parker, I have a reason, alright. A damn good one.”

Peter clenched his fists. The news reporter constantly kept talking about the Vulture, he could hear sirens wailing in the distance. On the other hand, he thought about Aunt May. He needed this job to take of her. He needed it so badly.

Peter stared at Mr. Farook and then at the TV, at the sirens screaming for help and the gunshots being fired in desperation. He knew what he had to do.

Spider-Man swung across the gothic skyscrapers of Gotham ready to take that big winged bastard back home to Sesame Street.

…

“You happy now, Mr. Williams,” Tom said. “You can tell those folks at the Union all you want about our working conditions but ain’t nothing going to change.”

Bob laughed. “I still have one more question.”

Tom didn’t want to answer one more question. There was something in Bob’s blue eyes that scared Tom. Not that they were empty like those serial killers he saw in those documentaries he watched sometimes. Damn, those were some unsettling eyes. No, there was something else. Something sharp and alert. Intelligence that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying at the same time. Throughout the entire interview there was something robotic about the questions he asked. Not that most safety folk weren’t robots, they were like robots the whole lot of em. His questions were like he was reading from a book. There was a strain when he asked them, like he wanted to do something else rather than ask these questions.

They stopped at the boiler room, the heat making Tom sweat bullets. Atop them was a spider web of catwalks bathed in the red and orange of the fiery vats of chemicals.

“What do you know about the security department?”

“Nothing,” Tom said.

Bob was quiet for a while. “There was a purchase of high-tech weapons from a black-market supplier just a few months ago under a secret account. Tracing those accounts revealed that those weapons were bought by parties right here in Ace Chemicals.”

“Look man,” Tom said. “I don’t know nothing.”

“Really,” Bob asked, raising an eyebrow. “I seem to recall seeing a file that shows that you were in employment right as the Security Department was formed.”

Tom tried keeping a straight face but he could feel his stomach twisting into knots. “Look, man. You’re really bothering me. If you keep asking these questions, I’m going to have to call security.”

“And if I tell them why you called,” Bob said. “You’ll disappear too. Just like Frank, just like Bill and just like Dennis. How do you think your daughter will feel?”

Tom clenched his fist and grit his teeth. “Don’t you dare bring up my daughter or you’ll be going home with a knuckle sandwich, my treat.”

“You don’t want to disappear do you, Tom?” Bob asked. “What’ll happen to your wife, your daughter? Who’s going to take care of them? Who’s going to pay her medical fees, Tom?”

Tom wanted nothing more than to punch this fool for bringing up his wife and kid. Nobody brought up his wife and kid and their situation, not his friends and especially not some asshole claiming to be a safety inspector. And the way he brought it up too. Calm face, no emotion, no pity, nothing. Almost like it was some game to him. Like he didn’t care who he trampled on if he didn’t find his answer.

But Tom was in a pickle. Bob was right, he had the upper hand in this situation. If the higher ups caught wind of the fact that he was talking about the security department, he’d disappear. Just like the rest of them.

Tom sighed and looked up, at the men walking on the catwalks and the lab rats observing the giant vats in their lab coats. Tom always hated the lab rats. All they had to do was scribble down notes in their little papers and they’d get paid enough to pay Tom’s rent for a year. Hell, to pay his daughter’s college fees. All the while folks like Tom, folks like Tom who had blisters all over their body and got cancer getting those mixes in those giant vats, all they get paid is peanuts. Hell, if they knew more than they let on, they disappeared. Their bodies in some ditch somewhere or thrown in the lake, nobody giving a damn.

“Look if I talk, will I be protected?” Tom said. “Will my wife and family be protected?”

Bob nodded. “You have my word.” Tom looked straight in his eyes and the sincerity in them. Maybe it was because he was in a tough spot or not thinking straight but Tom trusted that man.

Tom nodded, hands on his hips. “Alright, I’ll talk.” He scratched the stubble on his chin and chuckled. “I just realised. You’re no safety inspector, safety inspectors don’t ask these types of questions.”

Bob shook his head. “I’m an investigator.”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Figured. Look, I’m going to spill and let me tell you there’s a lot of big names involved. If anything happens to me or my family, I’m going to give them your name and things aren’t going to be pretty.” Tom wiped his forehead. “So, tell me Bob. Is that your real name?”

Bob nodded.

Tom nodded, a little longer than Bob. He shuffled through his pockets pulling out a single stick of cigarette. “Managers don’t allow smoking but I figure since,” Tom chuckled, lighting the cigarette with a shaky hand. “Since I might not be seeing tomorrow, what do I got to lose?”

“Can we start?”

Tom took a swig of his cigarette. “Sure. Let me tell you it’s one hell of a story.”

After Tom’s story Bob left the oppressive factory into the smoggy air of Gotham. He made his way to a 1989 Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith, sitting in the back taking out his hat and coat. The driver started up the car and left behind the looming Ace Chemicals factory in a trail of dust.

“How did your interview go?” Alfred asked. Bruce looked behind at Ace Chemicals, at the smoke choking the air above it and the furnaces jutting through the skies.

“Send an anonymous tip to Gordon about a Bruce Nelson,” Bruce said. “I think I just found out the Joker’s next victim and call Dick. Tell him he should be ready for tonight.”

“Shall I prepare the suit, sir?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes. I think I might pay Mr. Nelson a visit.”

…

They were away from the sirens, away from the buzzing helicopters and twittering pedestrians. Sure a few eyewitnesses may have seen them passing by but it was only a few, he took care of the rest. That would buy the Vulture enough time to tell little Mr. Drexar how he really felt.

They were surrounded by a fortress of buildings jutting out from the ground. The buildings closely packed like friends huddling up for warmth. The Vulture found the perfect building and landed on the rooftop, Drexar writhing like the little worm he was.

They landed on the roof of the building. As soon as Drexar felt his feet touch the ground he started scrambling away, crawling on the floor like a monkey. Before he could even move five feet the Vulture’s wings glowed a bright blue and with a sharp thud a feather landed in front of him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the Vulture said, grabbing his shirt and yanking him around. “Unless you want your body to be mincemeat.”

Drexar’s face was a white as bleach. Sweat poured down his body in massive waves and the Vulture could smell a faint trace of urine in the air. He held out his hand, scrambling backwards.

“W-what do you want?” Otto said, squealing it out like a pig. “Is it money? I have plenty of money. I c-can call some of my friends and we can m-make a deal.”

Vulture chuckled. “You always loved solving your problems with money Drexar.” The Vulture walked over to him, placing a boot on his stomach and pinning him down on the floor. “No, no. I want something a little simpler than that. I want you to remember.”

“R-remember what?”

“Chery and Valeria Toomes.”

“A-Adrian?”

Adrian removed his mask. “The one and only.”

“L-look I’m sorry about what happened to them,” Otto whimpered. “I didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know?” Adrian said, shaking his head. “DIDN’T KNOW?”

The anger and roar of Adrian’s voice made Otto snap his head back, causing him to hit his head against the roof.

“I bet you didn’t know that Valeria’s guts were all over the floor,” Adrian said. “I bet you didn’t know that Chery was 7 months pregnant with a boy. MY BOY!”

“I’m sorry,” Otto said, tears falling down his face. “Please Adrian. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry ain’t going to bring them back,” Adrian said. “Sorry ain’t going to bring McCoy back.”

“Y-you know?”

“Oh yeah, I knew,” Adrian said. “You worked that poor bastard to the bone. Worked him so hard surrounded by all those chemicals that his son was born all blue. And when you were done, you killed him. Took credit for his work, made it look like an accident.”

Adrian smiled. “And I found out. I found out about your little conspiracy so you killed my wife and my kid to make a statement. My wife and kid. Now look at you now. Big shot CEO living in a big ass mansion in the mountains. Must be real nice huh, fucking models and taking crack without a care in the world. No need to worry about the bodies all six feet under to get you that mansion. No need to care about the poor bastards you trampled underfoot.”

“I-I’ll confess,” Otto pleaded. “Please. I-I’ll do anything. Just please leave me alone. Please.” Otto let out a sob, his tears mixed with the mucus pouring out of his nose, bouncing off the floor in little drips.

“Jail is too good for you,” Adrian said, grabbing his hair and pulling him up. “No, I’m not going to throw you in jail.”

He put on his mask and dragged him to the edge of the rooftop. “This building is four stories high. I throw you down, legs first. You won’t die. But the pain.” Adrian let clicked his tongue. “Ooh the pain.”

Otto whimpered.

“After that drop I’m going to pick your ass up and I’m going to take you somewhere real private,” Adrian said. “Real private. And I’m going to hit those broken bones of yours over and over, till you can’t take no more. And I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to kill you at all. Instead I’m going to leave you in the building, your bones all broken and let the elements do it for you. No, Otto. Killing you is way too easy. I’m going to make you wish you were dead.”

The Vulture flew up, lifting a whining flailing Otto in his arms.

“Keep your hands on your sides, Otto.”

The Vulture let go, Otto screaming and crying like a baby as he fell down the building.

Everything was so perfect. Everything was going according to plan.

And then there was a flash of red.

And an annoying voice.

“The guys at Sesame Street would not like that.”

There was a sudden burst of air as Vulture got punched directly in the stomach flying back at a high speed. If it wasn’t for his wings and the Kevlar, he wore underneath he’d have a bunch of broken bones.

He didn’t care about the brat. He had to get to Drexar. He saw the little weasel scampering around the streets, stumbling past pedestrians who came out of their apartments to see the show.

The Vulture dived but was promptly greeted by a kick to the face.

“That had to hurt.”

The Vulture made a swift turn launching his feathers directly at Spider-Man but he weaved through them with ease throwing back one of them at Vulture who swerved away from it, skimming past the crowds overhead on the hunt for his prey.

“Oh no you don’t.”

But Spider-Man was on his tail. He jumped from the sides of the building, tackling him against somebody’s window.

The Vulture growled, dodging the flurry of Spider-Man’s punches. He grabbed his sides and flew upwards tossing him on the roof of building.

He could still see Otto scampering amidst the crowd. He hoped he had knocked down the brat long enough to grab the bastard. He was about to take off before feeling something grab his arms and yank them backwards.

“Got you now Big birdie,” Spider-Man said. “Time to get back in your cage.”

Spider-Man turned his back on him and was about to toss him upwards but by flapping his wings, the Vulture sliced through his webs. He was about to make a run for it when Spider-Man leapt and suplexed him back on the ground.

His mind was groggy and so was Spider-Man’s. They both took a while to get up. When their minds cleared, the Vulture’s wings glowed a bright blue and Spider-Man did a backflip, landing in a kneeling position ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

Adrian noticed that Drexar had disappeared. He let out a frustrated sigh before turning to face Spider-Man. Adrian saw that the kid had something new webbed to his back. A red box that looked an awful lot like a lunchbox and seemed very familiar.

“You know, kid?” Vulture said. “You shouldn’t mess with things you don’t understand.”

“My teachers say if I don’t understand I should ask,” Spider-Man said. “So, Mr. Vulture. What are these things you don’t understand?”

Vulture chuckled. “You’re funny kid.”

They were two black metal gloves hanging on both his right and left leg. Vulture put his hands in those gloves. They let out a hiss before tightening around his hands.

“Won’t be funny for much longer.”

“That didn’t answer my question,” Spider-Man said.

“I won’t be answering your questions.”

“Damn you’d make a bad teacher.”

Vulture widened his stance, his wings glowed blue. “Ready for Round Two, kid?”

Spider-Man chuckled. “Bring it on, Big Bird.”

To be continued…