Chapter Text
Patrol was going great, Peter had managed to stop a few robberies and did a check on the playground. He also accompanied some kids back home, chatting with them as they went, which was quite enlightening as he learned more about the pop culture around Gotham. It was surprisingly different from Queens’, the main difference being the slang (he had nearly cried when he discovered the classics such as ‘yeet’ and ‘you made me drop my croissant’ had not made it to this universe—but honestly, vines were just free real estate now, so his arsenal of quips was now bigger than Wade’s arsenal of actual weapons).
Peter had even managed to find another source of free food when he had helped a kind old lady cross the street who had given him a slice of apple pie in return for his heroics (he was half-expecting it to be a churro; there were so many similarities and differences that just made it harder to adjust).
With the added fuel in the form of pie, Peter had enough energy to continue on later in the night.
“This is a terrible idea, you need sleep Peter,” Sam sighed.
He never claimed to be responsible, just practical. Fuel was fuel, and the little guy needed looking after.
As he was swinging across Spider Alley, watching out for the next unsuspecting criminal, Peter decided to try out some of the tricks Ned had dared him to do once upon a time.
He shot at the side of a building, twisting himself into a horizontal spin before diving down and shooting a tendril just before he hit the ground to create a huge arc. At the top of his swing, he began a forward roll, swiftly transitioning into a backwards roll, once again shooting at the tallest building before going splat.
Now, all he needed was a name for the move set. Peter and Ned had already named the individual moves: Flying Helix, Spider Roll and Moonsault respectively. He needed a name for the entire move set though, one to rival DP’s naming game for his arsenal.
“You know Deadpool. The fucking merc with a mouth. Who the hell do you hang out with, Pete,” Bucky said, stunned.
Watch it, that was Peter’s friend he was talking about.
Wade may be a bit… much at times, but he was trying to be better and that had to count for something. Heck, the guy even went to the effort to cheer Peter up after the whole incident with Mysterio, they ended up playing Ratchet & Clank the entire day, speedrunning the game.
Peter rounded a corner of a building and pulled himself up in his swing to land in a crouch on the roof of the building.
That was it! Spidey McMarx . Hah, even Wade would have to admit that was a damn good name.
His reminiscing was interrupted by the beeping of his pocket (yes he sewed pockets into his new suit, it was practical okay). Confused, Peter pulled the comm Oracle had given him during the introduction to the Bat team. He debated whether to answer or not, he didn’t really have the supplies to deal with a heavy hitter, but they also wouldn’t have contacted him if this wasn’t urgent. Or, it could just be a social call, which would be fine, Peter figured he probably needed to spend more time with people and actually talk to them.
“Damn right. Just wish you would actually follow that advice, Spinner,” Shuri said, exasperated beyond belief.
Peter rolled up his mask to his nose to put the comm into his ear.
“Spidey, we need your help,” Oracle’s voice rang out of the ear piece before Peter even had the time to pull his mask back down over his mouth.
“Sure, what are we dealing with?” Peter responded, praying it wasn’t an enemy from the Rogues Gallery.
“It’s Joker,” well crap, there goes that wish, “he has Nightwing and Batman.”
“Look Spidey, you won’t have any back up on this; the crew is stuck dealing with the rest of the Rogues around Gotham, and I’m still out of commission,” Red Hood added through the comms, though his voice was gruff and tended to have a impassive tone, Peter could hear the panic leaking through the facade. “We don’t want you caught up with this, but given you could take him on one-on-one before—”
“Okay, I’ll do it, where is he?” Peter cut him off, he didn’t need any more convincing. He was a hero after all, one that looked out for the little guys, the ones that don’t have anyone in their corner.
He could hear Red Hood letting out a breath of relief, at Peter’s affirmation. Oracle rattled off the cross-streets of the building they had heard Joker mention through Nightwing’s comms before it was destroyed.
“I’m on my way,” Peter said, leaping off of the building, arms above his head in a dive and shooting out at the last second to swing into a large arc. He shot at water towers and roof ledges as he flew across tops of buildings to build up speed, it was unlikely Joker would be patient and hold out on his evil plans just for Peter to make his way there.
“Be careful Spider-Man, he already has our two best bats and the Joker has absolutely no ethical or moral qualms,” Oracle warned with obvious worry.
“It might also be a trap, Joker is known for those,” Red Hood tagged on, voice hard, “usually an ultimatum, but don’t let him win. Don’t play by his terms, it never ends well.”
“Gotcha boss,” Peter responded, noting how the last part sounded an awful lot like a lesson learned through a first-hand experience.
Peter was fully aware that this was a trap, his spider sense not letting him forget as it spiked with every shot from his web shooters, but he knew he could handle this. If he could beat a guy in a fishbowl using fancy imovie effects, he could damn well handle the crazed clown who had just a bit too much sugar (or another white powdered substance) in his fruit loops that morning.
After the fight with Beck, Peter learned to trust his instincts and his powers, both of which warned him that this was dangerous, but not life- or sanity-threatening.
He was picking up on a repetitive tick that sounded suspiciously like a timer. Peter swung over to the abandoned building at the cross-street that Oracle had rattled off, landing on the deserted floor closest to the ticking.
Just as Matt had taught him, Peter closed his eyes and reached out with his ears, fingertips and nose. There was only the smell of gunpowder, metal and dust that clogged his nose. The breeze from being so high up, sweeped through his fingers uninterrupted. Lastly, he couldn’t hear anything beyond the obnoxious ticking or the faint thrum of electricity lining the ceiling, likely wiring attached to what seemed to be a speaker, and through a coil of wiring likely in a remote given the amount of current passing through it.
But, there were no heartbeats, no breaths, but luckily no distinct smell of lavender and oil.
“I’m here guys, but it’s completely empty,” Peter reported to his comms, “I think you were right this is a trap.”
“Shit,” Red Hood swore, Oracle similarly doing so before clacking away at her keyboard, “get out of there Spider-Man.”
“So nice of you to join us Spider-Man,” the blood curdling voice called out from the speaker, “Batsy and Nightwing here were just telling me about your new partnership, you and the bats really make one big family don’t you?”
Hah, if they did then none of them would be alive, Parker Luck would have made sure of that.
“Jeez kid,” Peter Quill softly said.
“Look man I really don’t have time for you theatrics,” insult and play down their show, distract them from the main event and don’t become one of their puppets, Peter reminded himself—defeating Beck really taught him a lot with how to deal with showmen in his line of work. “Things to do, places to be, you know how it is.”
He could tell his nonchalance had gotten to the villain through his tone when he replied, “Good, it just means you will make this decision quickly.”
Peter felt an ultimatum coming—at this point it felt as if all villains followed some kind of guidebook to plan their big evil plans.
“There’s a remote with two buttons, the first would blow up the building that poor old Batsy and Nightwing are in, and the second, well that’s rigged with explosives to your own building. Blowing one up will disarm the other, so be sure to make the right choice Spider-Man.”
Ah, there it was.
Okay, he could just disarm his own bomb and hopefully the two bats in the other building would get the same idea. Peter started moving towards the explosives that he smelled upon his arrival, intent on enacting his plan.
“Not so fast Spidey!” Joker’s gleeful, manic, giggles echoed throughout the abandoned floor, “If you try to tamper with the explosives, I’ll just blow you both up. Can’t have you ruining my fun now, can I.”
“Great,” Peter mumbled, and let his arms, that were previously reaching for the explosives, go slack against his side.
“Now, you better make the most out of your time, I’ve already started my timer and at a pre-determined, but unknown, time I will press both triggers if you haven’t made your decision. Always did fancy myself a gambling game!”
The Joker’s voice reminded Peter of Norman Osborn. The resemblance between the two crazed men was uncanny.
But, unlike his encounter with the Green Goblin, Peter believed in himself. He knew immediately what his decision was, both because he was a self-sacrificial idiot with no sense of self-preservation, but also because he knows he’ll make it out, probably not unscathed, but still relatively alive.
“Relatively alive isn’t what we’re going for here, buddy,” Quill dryly remarked.
He’ll be fine. He knows it. The bats on the other hand,
“Spider-Man, I know what you’re thinking, don’t do it. We’ll get them out of there without any building collapsing or people underneath it.”
“It’s fine, the buildings are abandoned. It’s just me in it.”
“Don’t be a dumbass Spider. You aren’t alone. Signal and Red Robin are on their way now.”
Despite Red Hood’s hope, Peter knew Joker wasn’t dim enough to give him enough time to call backup. Plus, they didn’t even know where exactly Batman and Nightwing were, or where the Joker even was. For all they knew he could’ve rigged some other buildings filled with more than a couple superheroes.
“Spidey, just hang tight we’re on our way,” Red Robin rushed out once he connected to the comms, clearly anticipating what Peter was going to do, “Batman and Nightwing wouldn’t want you to sacrifice yourself for them. We don’t trade lives.”
“Sure, but it’s not their decision.” Peter stubbornly replied, walking over and picking up the remote with two menacingly red buttons.
“Tick-tock little spider!”
“Keep him distracted, buy some time for the cavalry to come,” Red Hood ordered in an alarmed tone.
“Oh, okay, I can do that,” Peter agreed and he could hear another audible sigh from all bats on the comms, along with those in the back of his mind, “I’ve got a great distraction in mind,” he tagged on.
“Hey Joker, is this some sort of initiation to become your sworn nemesis or something? Cause as honoured as I am, I’m kind of offended you didn’t already know my decision. Like if we’re going to be BFFs, you should know all the decisions I would make in dire circumstances such as these,” Peter’s thumb ghosted over the button for his building before craning his neck to look at the speaker.
“Do you even know what my favourite colour is? My favourite animal? Actually those two are pretty obvious, huh,” Peter paused and cocked his head to the side for dramatic effect, the encounter with Mysterio made him pick up some of his own showmanship tricks, “How about my favourite onomatopoeia?”
“What would that be Itsy Bitsy?” Joker’s responded gleefully and slightly shocked, likely from the fact that none of the bats had ever indulged in his morbid jokes and humour. But, Spidey was known for his quips, and he’d be damned if he didn’t go down without having the last laugh.
Peter smirked, finger poised over the haunting red circle. “Ka-boom,” and he pressed his button with a chilling laugh, ironically filled with mirth.
A lot happened in the following five seconds: in the first, Peter heard the click of the button and felt as it pulled the trigger for the hidden explosives rigged around each supporting pillar. His spider senses burned his body inside out, warning him of the imminent explosion, along with the yells from the souls within his mind. The second second (hah), he heard a gasp through the speakers and Peter was thoroughly delighted at the idea of surprising the Joker.
The next few seconds blurred together and were less distinct compared to the first two; the support beams and pillars gave away and concrete powder wafted through the air, stuffing his nose and covering his suit as he went down from the weight of a concrete slab landing on his back.
Toomes had left numerous scars, both physical (three long, raised lines run across his back and right shoulder) and mental (never again would he go swimming in a chilly river, not that it sounded tempting before the incident). But, it acted as a needed wake up call as a vigilante with superpowers: he needed to trust his powers and his ability to use them, but he should never turn down the opportunity to hone his talent.
He had sought help from fellow vigilantes throughout New York; he worked with Jessica Jones on his detective work and controlling his strength, he worked with Matt Murdock, a.k.a. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, on sharpening his senses, with Luke Cage and Danny Rand he worked on overcoming his fear during fights, and meditation to get his super healing to work quicker. And with Deadpool, he gained the most; he overcame his fear of guns from Uncle Ben’s death, even learning gun safety and how to shoot, and, most importantly, he learned how to fight when he wasn’t holding back.
He could fight Wade with all his strength, equivalent to the amount he used to push the warehouse off his back, but also more as he discovered.
So, here, under mounds of concrete and an entire fucking building, Peter was completely and totally okay.
He took deep breaths, just as Danny had taught him, focusing on the few minor injuries he had and getting the skin to stitch itself together. He then focussed his breathing to keep himself calm, because although he healed, having a building on top of you, again, really dredges up some memories.
Once that was sorted, Peter recentred his hearing which was brutally attacked by the numerous yells down the comms as he made his decision. But now, it was dead silent aside from the few comments made while the dust was settling.
He could hear Oracle gasping an “oh no” as she saw the building go down through street cameras. He could hear Red Robin and Signal gasp and mutter while Red Hood had yelled and swore angrily.
“Not another good one,” he had said, “why do all the good ones die” (and Peter felt something tug at his gut).
He heard Oracle reconnect to Batman and Nightwing’s comms, who have both managed to get out of their buildings unharmed and get rid of the explosives.
He heard Joker’s manic laugh as he taunted the bats about their spider, “I must admit, I didn’t think Bitsy had it in him. And he did it in record time too!”
He heard the angry yells of the bats as they tracked they defeated the Joker who had been on the roof of the other building.
He heard Red Robin ask, “is he really gone?” and Red Hood snappily reply “a whole ass building fucking dropped on him. What do you think?”
“I dunno. I heard he still had homework to get done, so I doubt he would have decided to pull the self-sacrificial act today,” Peter muttered while trying to find a handhold among the rubble surrounding him.
“And yet…” Bucky sighed, miffed.
The stunned silence was comical, but not as hilarious as the shuttered responses that came after.
“Was that—”
“Is he—”
“How?”
“Oh dear, a building collapsed on me and I was nearly blown to pieces, again . Whatever am I going to do,” Peter said dryly with a smirk.
Then, Peter Benjamin fucking Parker, The Spider-Man, fucking rises from his grave of concrete.
Using his sticky powers, he got a good grip on the slabs of concrete near his head and pushed. Dust and rubble crumbled from above him, covering his vision, but he kept on pushing until he got his feet under him. Then, he stuck his feet and moved his arms so he was pushing upwards on the debris above.
A warehouse couldn’t keep him down, nor a river, bridge, army of drones, mutant crocodiles and lizards, a very green billionaire, or even a moon. So, really, a building was just another Wednesday for Peter.
Once above the rubble, he saw Red Robin and Signal on the outskirts of the heap staring at him in disbelief. Peter, being the little shit he was, simply waved then sauntered over (which he was only able to do thanks to his healing factor and Danny’s tricks).
The Joker’s voice crackled over the comms and his surprise and disbelief is evident, “he’s still alive?”
“Don’t you know how hard it is to squish a spider? This.” Peter paused to gesture to the rubble despite the lack of an audience, “this is the equivalent of trying to swat one with a broom. Even setting the entire house on fire wouldn’t kill it, spider’s are tough as shit.”
“And dumb as shit,” Shuri remarked.
Sure, but that wasn’t the point, Shuri.
He was met by silence, both from the clown (who’s occupation really did fit the bill now) and the bats.
Peter patted Red Robin and Signal once he reached them, giving them a smile conveyed really only by the slight shrinking of the whites of his mask.
“Alright, I think that marks the end of my patrol. G’night peeps!” Peter mirthfully announced before turning the comms off, shooting a web and swinging off into the night blissfully unaware of the confusion he left in his wake. Or completely aware and amused by the chaos.
“Finally, some actual sleep,” Sam muttered.
“A BUILDING BRUCE. A WHOLEASS FUCKING BUILDING.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s as strong as Clark,” Bruce responded as Alfred disinfected his wounds.
“No, you didn’t see him lift the rubble and then walk away with fucking peace signs and a smirk,” Tim yelled, throwing his hands in the air exasperatedly.
“Tim’s right, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was even stronger,” Duke agreed.
The bats were silent at that, some disbelieving while others were slowly persuaded by the duo.
“So, who wants to spar with him next?” Barbara asked with a smirk.