“Now listen here, Peter,” the doctor said. “Your aunt, she’ll be fine.”

“That’s good to hear doc, I’ll…”

The doctor put up his hand to stop Peter. “Wait. She’ll be fine, yes. But her heart is still weak. She should be fine as long as she doesn’t stress herself out and isn’t put through any sudden shock.”

Peter nodded. “I understand.”

“Good,” the doctor said. “You can go see your aunt.”

Peter made his way to her room. He opened the door only to see Aunt May doing some stretches in a nightrobe.

“Oh hey, Peter,” Aunt May said. “The doctor’s said that I’ll need to do some exercise after I’m done recovering but seeing that I feel great, I decided to start exercising now.”

Peter smiled. “Good on you, Aunt May.”

“What’s in that bag you’re carrying?” Aunt May asked, point at the big duffle bag Peter had in his right hand.

“Oh, it’s just something,” Peter said. Inside that bag was his costume. After their talk, Peter would finally tell her what he’d been keeping from her this whole time. “I… I’ll tell you about it later. I just wanted to talk.”

“About?”

“Remember that talk we were supposed to have before…”

“Oh,” Aunt May said in realisation. She noticed the serious look on Peter’s face and let out a quieter oh. She smiled at Peter. She walked towards the bed and took a seat, beckoning him to sit next to her.

Peter carried his duffle bag behind him. It suddenly felt heavy despite all his Spider strength. He took a seat next to Aunt May.

“May I…” Peter could barely meet her eyes. Could barely meet her smiling face. “I want to talk about Ben.”

May put a hand over his. It felt so warm. Peter desperately wanted to pull back his hand because he felt he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve this warmth.

“I… I don’t know where to start,” Peter said, letting out a sigh. “Remember those nights when we first moved here? I’d say I was going out to the nearest library to study or read some science book I saw. Well, I… I was lying.” Peter could barely meet her eyes but he steeled himself to do so anyway. “I was actually going out to look for a job. A good job so I could earn some quick cash you know? I didn’t want to worry you so I… I lied.”

“Oh, Peter it’s okay.” Aunt May was about to embrace Peter but he held out a hand to stop her.

“I…” Peter stammered. “I’m not done. There was this one job. My employer wasn’t the greatest guy. He refused to pay me and that put me in a real bad mood. Soon after, the guy he got robbed and I didn’t do anything. I let the guy run away and… and…”

Peter buried his face in his hands. Aunt May put an arm around him but Peter didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve that.

“That guy,” Peter said. “The guy I let get away, he was the guy who killed Ben and I… I...”

Tears started falling down his face. Aunt May removed her hand, good Peter thought. Good, I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve anything from you.

“Whenever I saw you,” Peter said, trying his best to stifle his tears. “I thought about how I let that man get away. How it’s my fault that

Ben died. How it’s my fault that you’re hurting and it was too much for me and I just… I just snapped. I took out my anger on you and I’m sorry May. I’m so sorry. All I’ve ever brought you is pain and that’s all I’m good for.”

There was a pause. He wiped his tears, barely able to bring himself to look May in the eyes. All he could imagine was her angry face or the look of disappointment in her eyes. He deserved that. He deserved all the anger May had, all the disappointment. He deserved all of that and more.

What he didn’t expect was for May to hug him.

“May?” Peter asked, barely able to mouth a word.

“Peter, your uncle would be so proud of you,” Aunt May said. “He’s smiling in his grave.”

“But I… I’m the one who got him killed.”

“Oh, Peter,” Aunt May said, tousling his hair like when he was a kid. “It’s not your fault. You weren’t the one who pulled the trigger, Peter. It was him and him alone.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Aunt May said firmly. “It’s him and him alone. The responsibility isn’t yours.”

Oh, it is, Peter thought. Dammit it is.

Peter was wrapped in the warmth of his Aunt’s arms. Thinking to himself what did he do to deserve this love? What did he do to have someone as great as Aunt May in his life?

They parted. Aunt May wiped some of the tears off Peter’s face.

“Now what else did you have to say to me?” Aunt May asked. “What’s in that big old duffle bag?”

“Well…”

“She’ll be fine, yes. But her heart is still weak. She should be fine as long as she doesn’t stress herself out and isn’t put through any sudden shock.”

Oh, god dammit, Peter thought.

“I decided to take up a sport.”

You stupid filthy liar.

“I thought I’d tell you.”

God, Uncle Ben is turning in his grave right now you asshole.

“That in case I come home with some bruises.”

What is wrong with you? Why are you like this?

“It’s cause I’m too busy playing baseball.”

Aunt May smiled. “Oh, I see. It’s good to be healthy.”

Peter let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah.”

The doctors came in.

“Oh, May,” said one of the doctors. “I see you’re up and about already. Let’s get you checked up. You just have to sign some papers here and there and we’ll see about discharging you.”

“Peter, I’m just going to be doing some check-ups,” Aunt May said. “You can run along now.”

Peter nodded, making sure to take his duffle bag alongside him. He left the hospital room with a sick feeling in his stomach, telling himself that this was to protect May.

…

“Rise and shine, Master Bruce,” Alfred said as the sun trickled across his face.

Bruce groaned, turning to the other side. “Do you always have to wake me up this early?”

“The early bat catches the criminal,” Alfred said.

Bruce looked at Alfred. Alfred stared directly back at him.

“Might I advise not sleeping with the prosthetic, sir?” Alfred said. “You might damage it.”

“That’s good advice, Alfred,” Bruce said. “It’s just I’m not that used to…”

“Ah,” Alfred said. “I understand. Breakfast is ready on the dining table as per usual.”

“Thanks Alfred.”

While Bruce ate his breakfast, he noticed the chair next to him was empty. Bruce rang his bell.

“Yes, Master Bruce.”

“Where’s Dick?” Bruce asked. “I don’t see his plate on the table.”

“Ah, yes,” Alfred said. “Master Dick left Gotham earlier this morning. He advised the both of us not to follow him. He left a letter for you to read. I could read it out loud if you want.”

“No,” Bruce said. “No, that’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure, Master Bruce?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then I shall return to my duties.”

Alfred went back to his kitchen as Bruce ate his breakfast, alone. Noticing, after a long time, just how loud Alfred’s footsteps really were.

…

Before Peter could get home a limousine parked itself right in front of him.

The backdoor of the limousine rolled open and Bruce Wayne, wearing a pair of sunglasses said “Get in.”

Peter shrugged. He figured it couldn’t be that bad. He sent a text to May telling her that he’d be late and got in. It was air conditioned very, very well.

“All present and accounted for, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked in front of the limousine.

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

Alfred started up the limousine and soon they were off.

“So, what’s up?” Peter asked. “What’s this for? Are you going to take me to some secret mind wiping machine so I can forget you’re Batman?”

“Close,” Bruce said. “I’m taking you to Wayne Enterprises.”

In any other circumstance, Peter would have been excited. He was going to Wayne Enterprises, one of the leading technological bastions of the 21st century but after everything Bruce put him through. After the hell he had been through this past year, he couldn’t bring himself to leap out of his seat in excitement.

As they drove through the streets of Gotham, something felt off. He then realised an annoying presence wasn’t sitting in the car with them.

“Where’s Dick?” Peter asked.

“Dick left Gotham,” Bruce said. “He told us not to follow him.”

“Master Richard is on a journey of self-discovery,” Alfred said. “This past year has been a time of reflection for him.”

“I see.” Peter sighed. “Who’s going to annoy me now?”

They drove for a while, finally stopping in front of Wayne Enterprises. Seeing the huge glass windowed building with the big W in the middle, Peter, for a brief moment felt 8 again. Staying up till the late hours of the night reading books on Wayne Enterprises until Uncle Ben told him to go to sleep.

Bruce stood in front of the entrance, beckoning Peter to come follow him. Peter followed.

The inside of Wayne Enterprises was even more jaw dropping. Shining white marble floors glistened as bustling footsteps shuffled across the floor, clattering against the shining marble. Two glass elevators zoomed upwards to what felt like infinity and Peter could see silver terraces equally occupied by men and women all busy at work.

Peter took back what he said about not being excited about being here. It was amazing.

“Follow me,” Bruce said.

“So where are we going?” Peter asked as they walked past the receptionist table, looking around like an excited rabbit. “The science department? R and D? Oh, don’t tell me we’re going to the top floor.”

“We’re going to the basement,” Bruce said, getting into an empty elevator.

“Man, you’re a killjoy.”

…

Making sure the coast was clear, Bruce used a pitch-black card and swiped it over the elevator buttons.

“Bruce Wayne,” droned a robotic voice. “Identity confirmed. Should I destabilize the guest.”

“No,” Bruce said. “He’s with me.”

Wayne Enterprises had many underground floors, due to the nature of and sheer number of employees that worked there, they had to be provided appropriate parking. But the basement was a special place. A place in Wayne Enterprises only accessible by a select few employees. And by a select few, Bruce meant one.

The basement of Wayne Enterprises was separated by one door. The door opened to a large empty grey space the size of a soccer pitch, lined with glass displays showing off various suits, a door in the far-right corner that led to a massive laboratory where all the equipment and weaponry were built. Underneath massive dusty black cloths were lines of earlier Batmobile models.

Examining one of those Batmobiles was a man who looked a lot like Morgan Freeman, taking down notes on a clip board. “Mr. Wayne. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He put up his glasses and turned. “And I see you brought guests.”

“Lucius,” Bruce said, giving him an appreciative nod. “This is Peter Parker.”

“Ah yes, the spectacular Spider-Man as the newspapers are calling you.”

“Peter, this is…”

“Lucius Fox,” Peter said walking towards him, barely able to believe what he was seeing. “Acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises. I read your paper about arc reactor technology being the new future energy source. I really look up to you.”

Fox chuckled, giving Peter a firm handshake. “You should bring guests more often, Mr. Wayne.”

“Flattering Mr. Fox isn’t what I brought you here for, Peter,” Bruce said. “I brought you here to make an offer.”

“A-An offer,” Peter said, unable to take his eyes off of Mr. Fox. “What kind of offer?”

“A simple one,” Bruce said. Mr. Fox took out his phone and pressed a button. The floor underneath them hummed as a glass container slid out of it, inside which was a costume. A costume meant for Peter.

“Damn,” Peter said, walking over to the costume. The costume was a sleek black costume with a black, leathery mask with slick lenses, metal plating around the chest area with a small black spider symbol in the middle. It had a belt with pockets which Peter assumed were designed to fit extra web fluid and spare gadgets. The rest of the suit was made out of a flexible fibre which Peter assumed was designed to account for his quick movement. The suit had gauntlets with spikes much like Bruce’s Batsuit. By the gauntlets Peter saw a pair of clean silver web shooters that probably had the same flick of wrist mechanic the Gotham Spider web shooters had.

“That is one hell of a suit,” Peter said.

“Yes, and you can have that suit,” Lucius Fox said.

“And protection for your Aunt,” Bruce said. “Alongside living in Wayne manor plus a job in Wayne Enterprises alongside scientists the likes of Curt Conners.”

“What’s the catch?”

“You’ll have to work alongside me,” Bruce said. “What’s more you’ll be training under me. You have great control over your powers but your movements lack grace and leave too many openings. A skill combatant without superpowers could even the playing field with just a choice few moves. All of this can be yours. You wouldn’t have to worry about keeping a secret from your Aunt again.”

Peter thought about it. He thought about Aunt May, about how much hell she’s been through. She thought about how one wrong move, how trusting the wrong person led to the Vulture descending down into his home and almost killing the both of them. He thought about the wealth of resources under Bruce Wayne and how well protected she’d be under them.

But then he thought about Dick. About how much he didn’t want to work for Bruce. About how working under him almost changed him for the worst. He thought about how little Bruce trusted people and how that job was probably an opportunity for Bruce to keep an eye on him (But the money though!). How little by little, working under him would make Peter more like Bruce. And Peter didn’t want to end up like Bruce. And the doctor said Aunt May didn’t need stress and shock in her life. How would she react knowing Peter put himself in danger every night? What would she do if Peter got hurt really bad or died?

Peter made up his mind.

“I’m sorry but I refuse,” Peter said. “All of it sounds good but I… I want to do my own thing. I don’t want to be somebody’s sidekick. But I still don’t want anything to happen to my Aunt so if anything happens to me just… take care of my Aunt, okay?”

Bruce nodded. “Very well.”

He removed a card from his pocket. “If you change your mind, call this number.”

“And if you need anything,” Peter said. “Just give me a ring. I’ll be busy doing my own thing but if there’s something that only the both of us can handle, you know who to call.”

Peter was about to leave but then remembered. “Also, I’ll take your offer on training. You’re right I do move around like a wet slug.”

“Okay.”

Peter started walking but then remembered something else again.

“Can I take that suit?” Peter asked.

“No,” Bruce said.

“Dammit,” Peter groaned. Peter left the basement, never feeling as happy as he did now.

…

When Peter left, Bruce turned to Lucius.

“Did you find out about the prosthetic?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” Lucius said. “Though you might not like what you hear.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bruce said. “If we can get Barbara back in peak condition without her having to go through hell, it’ll be worth it.”

“Very well, Mr. Wayne,” Lucius said. “I conducted some top-secret investigations, going back to the different medical research teams at Wayne Enterprises but I found nothing. I even consulted various departments, specifically Curt Connors’s team who are the main team in charge of people with artificial limbs they said they didn’t know anything about it. I realised I couldn’t find answers there so I did a trace on the materials used and also traced anyone who bought the sensors used in that chip attached to your neck.”

“And what did you find?”

“It was as scientist,” Lucius said. “A young scientist your father fired years ago.”

“Who?”

“Otto Octavius.”

…

Arkham Asylum Patient Reports

Interview Date: 14th February

Transcript dated: 25 February

Patient Number: 1940

Real Name: Unknown

Other names: The Joker

Doctor No: 91192

Patient: Rather lonely night, isn’t it, Doctor?

Doctor: Yes. Many people report feeling lonely on a Valentines Day. Are you lonely?

Patient: Yes, quite lonely. You sound different. New doctor.

Doctor: Yes. Mr. King committed suicide not long after your last therapy session.

Patient: Ah, yes. Poor Charles. Couldn’t take it once I told him his wife had been cheating on him.

Doctor: How did you…

Patient: Oh well, I like you. Your voice is much more pleasant. Keeps me at ease, Doctor.

Doctor: Do you feel unease when you’re here?

Patient: Yes. The walls do feel quite claustrophobic. And old looney Mooney’s debates with himself keep me up at night.

Doctor: You lodged the same complaint to the other doctors.

Patient: Well, it’s not my fault old Spector or is it Grant, can’t quite remember. Anyway, it’s not my fault old Spector can’t keep his mouth shut.

Doctor: Should we move you?

Patient: No, I quite like his complaining. (pause). Say, I didn’t notice but you’re quite a pretty one, aren’t you? What are you doing in a dump like this on a Valentine’s night?

Doctor: I… uh… I…

Patient: What’s your name?

Doctor: I’m not supposed to disclose that.

Patient: (groans) Oh come on. That’s a load of baloney.

Doctor: No, it isn’t. Not after what you did to Mr. King. It’s for my own safety.

Patient: Hey it wasn’t me that blew his brains out. Though I would’ve loved to.

Doctor: See what I mean.

Patient: (sighs) Very well. But how am I supposed to open up when I don’t even trust who I’m talking to.

(Despite various protests, Doctor returned to the consultation booth in order to discuss future actions to be taken. After lengthy deliberation, counsel thought it safe for Doctor to disclose her name)

Doctor: It’s Quinnzell. Harleen Quinzell.

Patient: Do you mind if I call you Harley?

Doctor: Whatever makes you feel comfortable. So, let’s start from the beginning. Do you feel, lonely, Mr. Joker?

Patient: You looked taken aback when I called you pretty. Is that…

Doctor: We’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about you.

Patient: What brings you here on such a lovely night? Shouldn’t you be out doing whatever young psychiatrists do?

Doctor: Like I said…

Patient: My mother always used to go out at night. She’d always bring men home and tell me to go to bed. I was a good little boy so I listened but I didn’t understand why she wanted me to go to sleep so early. It was only after I grew up, I understood everything but back then I always wondered why she looked so sad whenever she brought those men over and why she always cried when I called her pretty.

Doctor: I’m not used to being called pretty, is all.

Patient: Oh, but you are pretty Ms. Quinn. Hell, you’re drop dead gorgeous.

Doctor: Thank you, Mr. J but back to you. Back when your mother brought those men over, did you feel lonely?

Patient: Yes very. (Pause). You know what I think Harley?

Doctor: What?

Patient: I think you’re the right doctor for me. You know what else I think, Harley?

Doctor: What?

Patient: I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.

To be continued…