Just because one doesn't say anything or give indication of their thoughts to mean they condone or agree with situations.
It may because they are selecting the battleground they know can stand a chance. Patience is platinum to golden silence. Humans are endurance hunters, after all.
After all, often those who are in the wrong often are hoisted by their own petard.
I am not silent because I agree.
I am not silent because I consent.
"He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight" - Art of War, Tsu Sun
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you....
All of these variations seem to mean the same thing and is often one of the tenants or foundation of religion and a number of societies.
So lets take this to a semi-logical conclusion....
If those whom claim that compassion and empathy is 'too woke' (such as it is claimed by particular religious and political groups), then they are saying the following:
It is okay to persecute them as they persecute others.
That they want vitriol, fear, ignorance, and hatred to be the center-piece of their lives.
They want their higher power to be as cruel as they are to justify their own lashing out at an ever-changing world.
They find that being an actual empathic sapience being takes too much effort.
Democracy is the business of the social collective - the social responsibility. It is not the business of turning a profit or allowing the whims of the 'select' few.
A leader of a democracy should never do things without regard and without accountability . They must have consideration for All as it is not just a lawful contract they enter in but a social contract. A true leader knows when to push, when to stop, and when to compromise without destroying integrity. A decent leader should be willing to be humble, and is accountable for all their actions, missteps, and errors. They embody the laws, a true democratic leader is never above the laws for which they have sworn to uphold.
It is the right of the people to know they can safely lives and their rights are protected under the constitution that governs their government. It is also the people's right to tell our leaders in a democratic society when they are disconnected from the general good and to tell them where they can shove bad ideas and if needed, to fire them. It is the elected official's responsibility to listen and heed the population.
The United States of America is set up as a democracy. The government serves All who reside in its borders and not the other way around. We cannot afford to cater to the few who are fearful of natural social change and of limits we had collectively agreed to. The United States divorced government from business to protect the social good and from religion to prevent isolation and stagnation in a county built on the backs of natives and immigrants - willing arrived and otherwise.
Am not dead but have all current projects on hiatus until I get my feet back under me. 2023 was not a fun year at all. Between having an accident, recovering from aforementioned accident, and changing job paths, I left myself at the wayside artistically and mentally.
Hopefully, this year will be better than the last. Be on the lookout for new Art Doodles - 2024 and news about projects.
‘Deep breath, Petey.’ A thin figure clutched his batter suitcase and his satchel as he waited for the penthouse level elevator of Jazz R.C. Hotel. ‘One last long assignment and boom – debt is gone.’
The doors opened. ‘Seesh, not sure why Varnes bailed. And Ms. Brown’s panic? Wish I had been given time to read the paperwork more.’
Peter sighed to himself as the elevator ascended. ‘Ah, well, it isn’t like it’s the first time I’ve gone into a situation nearly blind.’
‘Nice place tho.’ Peter fished his paperwork out of his satchel. The name of the client was strangely missing. Peter scanned the papers.
‘A two week trial?’ Peter groaned. ‘She didn’t set me up with a crime boss or something, did she?’
Peter paused. ‘Would have explained her panic.’
“Ah, Mr. Parker.” Peter jerked in place, accidentally scattering his paperwork and dropping his suitcase.
The door to Penthouse Two had opened. A stately graying gentleman stood in the doorway. Peter smiled sheepishly as he rushed to collect his things. The man’s eyes glinted with amusement as Peter straightened out. The gentleman fished out a pocket watch, struggling as he worked around a sling holding his right arm.
“Ah, ten minutes early. Already an improvement over Mr. Varnes.” The man said mildly. “I am Alfred Pennyworth, family butler to the Wayne family.”
‘Dang.’ Peter blinked, instinctively glancing at the elevator. ‘Top-tier.’
Peter realized the silence hung for a moment too long. He flushed in embarrassment.
“Indeed.” Pennyworth’s neutral expression warmed. “Ms. Brown has spoken quite highly of you. Your records in the agency speak for themselves. It is a pity you ran into trouble with your last assignment.”
Peter flushed slightly, stuck between embarrassment, suspicion, and mortification. ‘Wonderful. Does everyone know about that?’
Pennyworth’s smile became a smirk as he turned away. “Now, please follow me to your accommodation. I will go over what you’ll need to know.”
Peter stared a long moment. ‘What the hell did I get into?’
“The only person not here is Master Dick. Apparently something came up at Bludhaven’s museum at the last minute.” Pennyworth handed Peter keys. “He should be here in three days however.”
“Hm.” Peter’s brow furrowed. ‘Seems like a normal domestic job so far. Aside from Mr. Wayne being “that rich playboy” and an adoption addiction, there isn’t anything out of place.’
“I would recommend you prepare yourself. While I do not believe Master Jason or Master Timothy to cause you issue, Master Damian can-” Pennyworth trailed off.
Peter felt his shoulders slump as Pennyworth picked up again. “Be difficult to handle.”
‘Difficult how?’ Peter stared pointedly at Pennyworth’s back. ‘Don’t leave me hanging.’
Peter, out of habit, cataloged the office they were in as neurotically lacking in personality.
However, Pennyworth pulled papers off the printer before Peter could ponder why.
“This is the boys’ schedule. Master Tim is currently on a coffee restriction. He is permitted only 8 ounces a day.” Pennyworth sighed. “I am trying to wean him off of his addiction.”
Peter winced. ‘Not pleasant at all. Reminds me of that time with Tony.’
“Master Jason is required to attend the appointments highlighted in blue.” Pennyworth rolled his eyes. “This entire stay in New York was supposed to be a family bonding experience.”
Peter shot a puzzled look. “I dare say, in this case, it would work better if Master Bruce spent more time with his boys than working.”
Peter watched Pennyworth’s long suffering with vague amusement. ‘Social butterfly Brucie inept with his kids? Who knew?’
“I do apologize beforehand for Master Damian’s antics. He can come on as a little intense.” Pennyworth ushered Peter out the door.
‘Dang it, Pennyworth. What the heck do you mean by intense!?’
“Tonight, we are not expected to do anything.” Pennyworth had herded Peter into the kitchen. “I thought I would take the opportunity to know you better.”
Peter glanced at the two exits longingly. Pennyworth gave a knowingly look as he had Peter sit in the kitchen nook.
‘This is an interrogation, isn’t it?’ Peter lamented.
“Good lad.” Pennyworth poured a teacup for Peter. “Now, Mr. Parker…”
Pennyworth had taken his own cup and sat opposite. “To be frank, I -”
Peter heard the front door open and four heartbeats just as Pennyworth started.
“Alfred, we’re back." The voice of a tired deep-voice man boomed in the space. Underneath that, Peter could make out a trio of males arguing. Alfred looked slightly annoyed at the interruption and mildly resigned.
“Please, Mr. Parker, stay here.” Pennyworth stood up.
“Master Bruce...” The swinging door obscured what Pennyworth was saying. Peter winced slightly. The trio of voices grew in intensity, though Peter couldn't hear much. Someone had paid for some decent sound-proofing. Then again, Peter wasn’t exactly trying to listen in.
Peter sipped the cup. ‘Pretty good tea.’
The door swung in, revealing two teenagers and a child. Peter stared at the trio whom froze in their tracks. The smell of Chinese food wafted from the paper bags they carried. Peter’s sixth sense kicked in.
The cheap wooden chopstick shattered harmlessly over Peter. There was the sound of someone crashing to the floor with an oomph. He yelped as the hot tea splashed on him as he ducked under the table. His sense blared. He found himself unable to react in time as he was pulled out and pinned to the floor with a kitchen knife to the neck.
‘Okay, don’t know if I want to coo at the kid or freak out.’ Peter stared at the (maybe) ten year old child who he suspected was Mister Damian as his mind raced, half-hysterical. ‘And now I know why Pennyworth said intense. It’s like someone crossed Matt with Natalie – only funsize.’
“DAMIAN!.” “Master Damian.”
“Chill, shortstack.” The Wade-built teenager pulled the kid off. “Nice reflexes, man.”
Peter touched his throat. Luckily Damian hadn’t managed to press in. Peter needed to maintain a low profile. A seen rapid healing cut might place in him in a precarious position.
Pennyworth helped him to his feet. “Mr. Parker, please forgive me. I didn’t expect-”
Peter shook his head with a wry smile, placing his palms out. ‘Parker luck strikes again.’
The borderline adult-teenager whistled as he left his brother drown. “Damn, and I thought Alfred had nerves of steel.”
Pennyworth whirled on the pair and grabbed Damian by the ear. “Pardon us. I believe I need to reiterate an earlier conversation with Master Damian.”
The silence hung awkwardly for a moment. Bruce Wayne offered a hand. “I apologize about my youngest. I’m Bruce Wayne.”
Peter gave a quick shake before signing out his surname. Bruce’s eyes widened a bit, but hid it quickly.
‘Huh.’ Peter tilted his head slightly.
“These are my other sons, Jason and Timothy.”
“Yo.” Jason waved near where the food was placed.
“Hello.” The fore-mentioned Timothy squinted at him.
‘Whelp.’ Peter tucked his hands behind his back as the conversation stalled and died a miserable long death. The staring contest made him want to flee. ‘This gotta rank in my top five awkward moments ever.’
______________________________________________
‘Okay, why do I stay?’ Peter pulled the door open to the Royce. ‘Petey, you have officially lost your mind. Is the money really worth this...’
The unholy union of Matt-Natalie glanced at him as he exited the vehicle. Peter’s sixth sense had been humming off and on the entire time since their initial first meeting in the kitchen. Damian had been stalking him through the penthouse the last two days as Peter went about his job. Peter didn’t bother to count how many little ‘incidents’ he ducked or ignored. And then the insincere apology should have told him everything he needed to know.
The Tony-wannabe, Timothy, spent half the time in a tired daze and the other half watching him suspiciously. And he was sure a few ‘pranks’ were not the play-hunt style of the littlest Hellspawn. Peter pretended not to be bothered by the kids’ antics. The two usually behaved when either the normally elusive Bruce was around or Pennyworth.
Then there was Jason. The nineteen year old had quite a mouth on him. (Aunt May would have washed his mouth out.) Yet Peter wasn’t sure what to make of the kid. Half the time when he was in the penthouse, he could be found reading various pieces of classic literature. Otherwise, he seemed to enjoy taking the mickey out of his siblings.
However it was clear to Peter that Jason and Bruce had issues. Arguments that always seemed to stop when he entered the room.
‘Granted if I wasn’t doing my job, I’d ease-drop on those conversation.’ Peter shut the door after Jason exited.
He gave the driver, Eddy Lorne, a thumbs up. He watched longingly as the car drove off.
‘It’s quite sad when they use you as a leash for the devil spawn.’ Peter’s mouth twisted for a second.
It had become apparent when the ‘boys’ (as Alfred fondly called them) tended to clash or enable the others' worse habits. At the movie theater on Day Two, Peter had to confiscate four knives off of Damian and at least two guns from Jason before they had entered. He had stopped Tim four times from getting coffee. Not to mention stopping Damian from trying to strangle Tim in the bathroom while an amused Jason looked on. Something about who owned a bird?
Or maybe it was about a girl? Peter couldn’t quite recall except all he had wished he could have webbed them to the seats.
Peter reached out and caught Damian as he seemed set on chasing Jason whom passed by. Damian seemed to be demanding not to be called kid. Peter sighed, resigned. Surprisingly Damian paused as he glanced up. Peter glanced down. Rolling his eyes, he gently shoved the kid in the direction of the necessary airport terminal.
Jason returned from his raiding of one of the airport shops. Peter found himself the owner of a small bag of gummy-worms.
‘…’ Peter ruthlessly squashed down the memories threatening to overcome him. ‘Keep it together, Peter. No need to flashback now.’
“Okay there, Parker.”
Jason looked ready to bump his shoulder.
Peter took a partial step away and gave a quick smile. He signed thank you to Jason, before stowing the bag in his pocket. Timothy gave him a long side-glance as Damian began chattering about his pets – one of his favorite subjects as they navigated the airport.
“Flight 182B is now disembarking.” Came the announcement.
Timothy perked up and began waving. “RICHARD!”
Peter idly eyed the approaching adult. ‘What is it with Bruce and dark-haired bright-eyed children? Are these all of his or something?’
The fore-mentioned Richard bear-hugged Timothy. Peter was surprised to find Damian clinging to his side. Jason and Richard gave each other a cool nod. Damian muttered a sullen greeting to Richard’s cautious one.
‘And now everything becomes a lot more interesting.’ Peter met the surprised gaze of Richard head-on. ‘When did my life turn into a soap opera?’
“Where’s Alfred?”
“Dick, met Peter Parker. He’s Alfred’s new assistant.” Jason clapped a hand on his shoulder.
‘Only until the start of next week.’ Peter, trapped between two of the brothers, merely rocked from the friendly blow.
‘Yep, this is my life.’ Peter was aware there was some silent conversation between the brothers.
“Oh?” Richard put out a hand with only a partially faked cheer. “Richard Grayson-Wayne.”
Peter smiled politely as Richard’s grip increased minutely. ‘What is with the testing me all the time?’
‘Play dumb, Petey.’ Peter extracted his hand and stuck them in his pocket. ‘Just one more day.’
______________________________________________
“Please enjoy your day off, Mr. Parker.” Pennyworth smiled as they passed each other in the elevator hall.
Peter slumped against the elevator wall in relief. He needed a break.
‘Never thought I’d be the cause of so much tension.’ Peter rubbed his forehead. ‘Geez. Alright, Peter. Focus. We’re out for the day.’
Peter suspected that he was being followed. He spotted Mister Dick as he got on the subway for Queens. Then when he stopped at Belos Bakery for a quick breakfast before popping into Flora’s, he thought he saw Mister Timothy.
He pointedly ignored this when he entered into Cedar Cemetery.
‘Hey, Aunt May, Uncle Ben, how have you been?’ Peter noted the gravestone had been cleaned up absently. His aunt must have been by since a new bouquet of day-lilies lay at its’ foot. Peter laid down his carnations.
‘Me? I’ve doing alright. Currently working for Mr. Big-Deal Wayne until the twentieth. The butler Alfred seems to like me well enough, but the family.. eh, who knows. Unlikely for the job to continue afterwards. At least at the end, I know I’ll have all the medical bills paid off.’
Peter rest his head on the gravestone. ‘I’m thinking about going for a teaching degree. Not sure if I’m going back in as, well, you know. I’m not sure I have the strength to start from absolute zero.’
Peter chuffed to himself. ‘Didn’t realize you could empty oneself so much. I know I’m not going to keep away forever. I just need to take care of myself. Right, Aunt May? So-’
Time passed as he chatted to the dead. A clock-tower rung out noon. Peter dusted himself off and made for Delmar’s. Old man Delmar hadn’t even recognized him but Peter couldn’t hold it to him. Peter had drastically changed over the five years.
Peter, when he sat at a window booth, spotted Mister Damian and Mister Jason trying to chill on a bench across from Delmar’s Deli.
‘What. The. Hell?’ Peter glanced out the window as he chewed. ‘Don’t they have better things to do?’
A mischievous smile grew on his face as an idea occurred. ‘Alright, how ‘bout a little payback?’
After he finished his meal, Peter headed into the maze of streets that had been his hood for years. He spotted the four clustered together as he walked downtown Flushing in the reflection of one of the many boutiques on the roadway. Peter used the time to stop at a few stores, expanding his currently limited wardrobe.
‘Alright, now just to time this right.’
As he picked up a shirt at one boutique and a tie at another, he watched the quartet lag behind slightly. Especially when one of the more eager saleswomen managed to delay them via Dick. Peter pretended to dillydallied, window-shopping.
Once he was sure they were far enough behind, he causally stepped into an alleyway with a fence. By time the quartet made it to the alley, Peter had climbed the wall to the roof and waited.
“The hell?” Jason’s voice boomed up. “Where did he go?”
“We saw him enter this alley, didn’t we?” Dick asked.
Peter chuckled to himself before walking to the other side and dropping down. The second alley had been blissfully empty. He walked out of the second alley back onto the main drag. He heard Jason swearing in the distance as he headed to the closest subway.
The high from the prank last only until he started to think things through.
‘You are an idiot, Parker.’ He berated himself during the subway ride. ‘What if you had been caught? Got to keep a low profile. Or-’ Peter shuddered as he recalled memories.
Both Pennyworth and Mister Wayne seemed baffled when Peter walked into the kitchen. Alfred had a medical kit out and was bandaging Mister Wayne’s fist. Peter, more interested in a drink and nap, merely waved. He raided the refrigerator for the can of Sprite he hid in the back before retreating to the guest staff quarters.
He flopped onto the bed after placing the drink on the night-stand. Peter didn’t even manage to drink the soda before he drifted off.
______________________________________________
Peter watched bemusedly as Damian and Timothy hustled Pennyworth out the door. Jason saluted and Dick nodded. Soon Peter was left alone in the kitchen. Pennyworth had no time to give him his instructions for the day.
‘Should I try to collect laundry or vacuum?’
“Parker?”
‘Not alone as I thought.’ Peter turned on his heel to face his current employer.
Wayne hid the appraising eyes with a smile. Peter debated if he should call the man out. Consider yesterday’s incident with his kids, Peter was quite sure that ‘Brucie’ was likely either a crime lord or a super-villian.
‘Actually, it might be safe not to poke the bear.’ Peter pondered. ‘I’m more or less a working drifter at this point. No one to call foul if I was to disappear.’
“Peter.” Peter blinked in surprise. “Where did you disappear off to in that head of yours?”
Peter signed an apology. Wayne smiled.
“I hope you don’t mind taking over Alfred’s work. The boys consider Alfred to be family and…” At that, Wayne shrugged. “Anyway, today is the annual Science Expo and I promised Lucius I would show up.”
‘So is this more of a status thing or something?’ Peter mused as Wayne rambled on. “Nope, adult-sitting.’
“- would it be alright with you?”
Peter hummed an agreement. However, he rolled his eyes when Bruce was not looking.
‘What did I get myself into?’
______________________________________________
Peter kept his hands behind his back as he trailed after Wayne. Peter struggled to keep a straight face. ‘Dang, if Fisk lost about a thousand pounds, he and Luthor could be twins.’
Peter resisted the urge to flee as Wayne made a beeline to a lanky African American talking to the famous Lex Luthor. The look he received from Luthor made Peter’s flesh crawl.
“Lucuis! Lex.” Wayne greeted the pair with firm handshakes.
“Ah, Brucie, about time you made it.” Luthor drawled. “Ah, did you exchange Pennyworth for a new model?”
Peter could see the sudden tension in Wayne’s back though it didn’t translate into his voice. “Ah, no. This is Mr. Parker, Alfred’s new assistant. Parker, this is Lucius Fox, my CEO, and this is Lex Luthor.”
Peter stumbled when Wayne pulled him closer, his hand clapped on Peter’s far shoulder. Peter stiffened from the contact. He silently breathed deeper through his nose. Bruce squeezed his shoulder lightly before loosening his grip.
“Charmed.” Luthor smirked, giving Peter a look up and down before dismissing his presence. “Lucius and I were discussing S.T.A.R. Lab’s newest robotic creation. -”
‘What the hell?’ Peter step back behind Wayne, caught between a shudder and an eye twitch. ‘Did I just – nope. Nope. Not thinking. No thinking until we’re out, Peter.’
Peter listened with half an ear to the two men politely insult each other as he scanned the room. A few people caught his attention. A slightly slouching reporter who kept glancing in their direction. An admittedly dark-haired gorgeous woman flitting from group to group. The last was a stout African American women who met his eye by accident.
At that moment, Peter was nearly blinded by his sixth sense. Reacting on instinct, Peter shoved Wayne into Fox and Luthor as pain burst into his side. Peter struggled against hands, his head ringing.
“-rker. Peter. Peter.” The pain receded but everything sounded a bit distant. “Stay with me!”
Peter blinked as he could see the ceiling.
‘When did I…’ The thought formed muzzily. ‘Got shot.’
Wayne’s mouth moved ahead of the words.
“Don’t fall asleep."
"Please -.”
Peter try to wheeze out a reply. His voice failed. He whined when someone jostled him. The world edged with gray and then faded.
Chapter 5: Bruce Wayne, Crime Lord of Gotham; Part 3
“- state of emergency… Gas mask requirement until 2:00am. Evacuation is in progress for Bo….” Peter nearly snapped the knob off the radio.
Thompson glanced over her cards while Peter sat back down. Alfred sighed.
“It should be over soon enough.”
“Maybe.” Thompson gritted out, the nails of her free hand tapped on the island.
Alfred placed a hand over hers. “My dear, I’m sure you’ll be right back in the action soon enough. At least, Miss Reid is proving herself. And Fox Jr. is not a slouch either.
Thompson snorted. “Who knew old Alfy could have good ideas.”
‘The not-knowing is always the worst.’ Peter grimaced at his phone, ignoring the byplay. ‘If I had my suit…’
Peter shook his head at his foolishness. ‘Don’t be stupid. No one know who Spiderman is here. Nor do I know enough about the criminals in the Asylum. Besides I don’t even know where Wayne sent the kids. Though knowing Mr. Heartless, probably in the middle of it to keep control over his criminal empire.’
Peter, at some point, fell asleep on the island counter. When he woke, he was alone. A blanket had been draped over him. The tea set washed and put away. Cards neatly placed in their box. The morning sun streamed in the windows.
Peter gave a triple whistle; high-high-low and waited. No reply.
Checking his phone made him sigh in relief. The kids had responded that they were alright sometime early in the morning. However the lack of the Doctor and Alfred was … wait, a text from Alfred. Both had gone into town to check on the clinic.
Peter headed to his room to take a shower and get at least a meal started. When he entered his room, his sixth sense flared. The window was opened.
The first attack missed as he dodged but he moved right into the second one.
Bam.
______________________________________________
“I thought you said this room would be empty!” Peter grunted as his throbbing head reminded him of the hit. One of his attackers had wrapped him up in wire. Someone was also laying on him.
‘Ugh, would be easy to snap if need.’ Peter squinted. ‘At least they put me on the bed.’
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting a Pennyworth 2.0 either.”
‘I am not sure if I should be insulted or flattered.”
“At least, he’s a cute version.” The first shifting into a bubbly singsong tone. “I think somebody’s up.”
‘Space please.’ Peter thought as his sight was filled with a pale Gothic blonde with pink and blue pigtails.
She giggled at his discomfort. She was kicking her feet in the air.
‘Is she wearing a cat costume?’ Peter saw the glimpses of the second intruder with pointed cat ears.
“Harley…”
“Don’t worry, Kitty-kat.” The named Harley chirped. “You can do whatever in Hunky-Wayne’s office. I wanna to stay with the cute butler.”
“Just don’t kill him or something.” Kitty-kat sounded like she was just done.
“Who me? Nah, that was more of Red’s thing.”
‘Wonderful.’
Peter tried to be subtle about trying to get out from under her. Only for her to hug him.
“And where do you think you’re going?” She was pouting. “We should get to know each other better. Granted we need to keep ya a secret from Pudding.”
‘Pudding?’ Peter felt a bit incredulous.
“He gets so jealous easily. He just might kill ya if he found out.” She put her cheek in her hand, looking pensive. “So, shh. Right? Anyway, are those bandages covering something or they just for looks?”
Peter just blanked out. “Seesh, you’re the silent type, ain’t ya.”
Peter’s phone buzzed with a notification. “What do we have here?”
‘Should have put a lock on that.’ Harley sat up on his chest as she opened the phone. Her fingers flied across the screen.
“Oh, ya’re a Petey. That’s a nice name for a nice face.” She blinked at what she was reading. “Aw, crap. Well, it’s been nice meeting ya, Bandage-man. Maybe when ya in town, I’ll see ya. Nite-night.”
‘Wha-.’
WHAM.
______________________________________________
‘Agh, I’m getting slow in my old age.’ Peter thought wryly. ‘Maybe I’m just a masochistic.’
Alfred readjusted the ice-pack. “Hold it a few moments more. The swelling is almost completely down.”
Alfred, content with Peter’s progress, patted his hand as he left. “I need to check on Miss Stephanie and Miss Cass. “
Tim, arm in sling, sipped a large mug of java. “Either you are the luckiest man alive, Mr. Parker, or the unluckiest. Can’t decide.”
Peter gave a deadpan glare. Tim jiggled the tablet he tucked into his sling with a shit-eating grin.
“I mean the footage caught them downing you and drag you in. Then fifteen minutes later, Catwoman exits but Harley Quinn stays for longer. And we find you in the bed, tied up. Kinky.”
Peter considered his options but Jason beat it to him.
“OW.” Tim nearly dropped his precious coffee.
“Oops, my hand slipped.” Jason deadpanned. “They didn’t do anything else to you, did they?”
Peter frowned, tilting his head so the ice pack stayed while he gestured. [Card girl talk.]
“I bet.” Tim muttered as he put his mug on the island. “OWCH.”
“Next time, you pair up with Damian.” Jason snagged the empty mug to dump in the sink. “You and Dick are a horrible combination.”
“What?” Tim exclaimed. “Please don’t! I’ll -”
Peter’s sixth sense didn’t overload him like it had earlier but it rose to a dull roar. Peter turned as the two boys fell silent. Wayne stood, emanating predatory energy and only a bandaged first. Peter stood up, allowing the ice bag to land on the table. Peter watched warily as Wayne scanned the room.
Wayne’s eyes landed on Peter. Peter found himself dwarfed in Wayne’s shadow. Wayne’s eyes seemed to harden impossibly harder as he lingered on the rapidly yellow-green on Peter’s face.
Wayne breathed in deeply once, twice. Peter thought for a split second he heard a rumble.
Something vaguely familiar tickled Peter’s mind.
‘Deja vu and I need to have a talk soon.’ Peter mused as he meet Wayne’s eyes evenly.
“Hey, Old Man, how’s Damian?”
Wayne blinked and just like that, his eyes softened back into a summer sky. For a second, Wayne seemed confused but he masked it. Had Peter not been watching, he’d miss it. Wayne moved to pick up a fresh coffee. Tim was typing on his phone, like he received a new text.
“The head wound looked worse than it was. Fox patched him up.”
Peter hid his clenched fists behind his back. ‘Looks like he ain’t hiding his secret anymore.’
“You ready for my report.” Jason asked mildly despite the tension in his jaw.
Wayne’s eyes drifted back to Peter before agreeing. Peter only relaxed when he heard them enter Wayne’s office. Tim grabbed Peter’s arm.
[Thing wrong.]
“Yeah, I agree.” Tim said very softly. “I’m not sure what’s going on with Bruce but I’ve already asked Barbara. I think it might be safer if you stayed with her for a few days.”
Peter raised his hand to sign but Tim shook his head sharply.
“It's triggered by you. Whatever this is, it only occurs when you’re around. I’ve been watching the footage.”
‘And if it’s because I’m a meta-human and older…’ Peter fretted.
[D-U-K-E?]
Tim’s brow furrowed before clearing. “Don’t worry. If it’s based on THAT, one of the people coming to help definitely keep his attention.”
______________________________________________
Peter never even made it down the front steps of the manor an hour later. Even before Barbara gasped the beginning of a warning, Peter twisted to dodge the tackle. Wayne’s eyes were trailing glowing blue light and the snarl he gave emphasized fangs as the man twirled around.
‘Shit.’ Peter finally recalled what was going on. ‘You’re an idiot, Peter.’
Peter gave up the pretense of hiding what he could do. As Wayne got closer, Peter used Wayne’s momentum into a flipping kick. Wayne landed in the fountain in the drive.
“NO WAY.” Peter heard Duke exclaimed.
Peter barely flipped upright when Wayne was already closing the gap. Wayne to Peter’s trained sense was beginning to leak magic.
‘Wonderful. What type of demon is this?’
Wayne lunged and kicked out. Peter pirouetted to avoid it, only to have to dodge the next. He glimpsed that Duke (who was fricking flying, of all things) had gotten Barbara out of the damage zone. Right, the wall.
‘Not this again.’ This time Peter launched himself straight up to avoid the broader man from boxing him in. He used the back of Wayne’s head as he descended down to launch himself further away. Admittedly the thud Wayne’s head made against the wall was satisfying. A glance back had him groaning.
‘Alfred wasn’t kidding about him being hard-headed.’
Wayne was fricking smiling as if this was exciting. Peter watched warily from his new perch on a lamppost. Wayne stalked in a wide half-circle.
‘Damn it.’ Peter didn’t let the older man out of sight. ‘He’s trying to keep me here.’
Wayne took a step forward towards Peter, only to be forced back by a bullet. Wayne turned, snarling at the interloper. Jason, head bleeding, held a sniper weapon trained on Wayne as the teenager walked down the stairs.. The rest were positioned defensively around the door. Even Alfred held out his shotgun.
‘Shit had gone sideways in Dunnage.’ Peter’s grip dented the pole.
“Back off, B.”
“No.” Came the guttural response.
Peter, unable to dull the sense in time, was blinded by the magic flare of teleportation. However the meaty thud and Jason’s resulting groan told Peter the story he needed to know.
“Do not interfere.” Wayne barked as he tossed Jason back up the stairs.
‘Come on, it’s not like he’s giving you time to get any seals drawn out.’ Peter’s mind raced.
Peter dodged – barely when Wayne appeared from behind. A few glancing blows didn’t faze the older man.
‘Good news, folks, I’m readjusting. Bad news. He’s getting quick.’ Peter lamented as he was driven back towards the manor.
Peter undershot his flip and ended up with a punch that took the air out of his lungs. Wayne, eyes gone full on cat-like, wrapped his arms like steel around Peter. They both looked eyes. Wayne leaned slightly closer.
“Hello, little mage.”
‘Wa?’ Panic rose up as Peter’s upper functions shut down.
“Am I interrupting?” Someone causally spoke as they floated down right next to them.
In half of a breath, Wayne released him on an account of a punch to the jaw.
‘Get out. Get out, getout, getout. Gogogogogogogogogo.’
Peter fled into the gardens.
Scrambling into the better-than-nothing safety of the topiaries.
Through the orchard.
Falling off the edge of the terrace and into the pastures.
Shade, darkness.
Hide. Hide.
Shhh.
When the panic subsided, Peter found himself cocooned in the corner of the barn. He could hear Alfred the cat mewing at him, Titus whining, and the cow restlessly pacing.
Peter stared at his reddened wrists and began to laugh. And laugh until the tears started.
‘Guess I didn’t actually need the shooter after all.’ He tilted his head so he rested against the back of the cocoon.
“Oh shit.” Duke’s voice woke Peter out of his exhausted doze. “What the hell is that?”
Peter could sense Alfred the cat brushing up against an exterior support
“It’s Peter.” Damian said matter-of-factually. “The tracker leads to here.”
“How are going to get him out?” Duke questioned.
Peter tiredly rolled his eyes. Reaching out, he ripped open the cocoon at little too much and dumped himself onto the loft. He grunted.
Damian helped him up to his feet. Duke stared at the slowly dissolving web. Peter couldn’t find the words to reassure the boys. The panic had drained him completely.
As such, he could be forgiven when exactly he was given the last piece of the Wayne family’s secret for his reaction.
As they rounded the front of the manor, Wayne was sitting on the steps. Wrapped in a blanket, Wayne looked as drained as Peter felt. Jason, at least sitting up and alert, grumbled at Alfred tending to his injuries. Cass and Stephanie were chatting with Barbara. A dark-haired woman in a stage magician costume was talking with Dick dressed in a dark body suit and mask.
‘Eh? Dick in a body suit…’
Peter looked at the four other people talking to Wayne. Superman. Wonder Woman. The Flash. Green Lantern. He had seen them from time to time on the news when he was able to catch it, in papers, and more recently on the internet. Wayne was the first to look up. Peter’s body finally gave out.
Chapter 4: Bruce Wayne, Crime Lord of Gotham; Part 2
‘Seesh, Duke, what do you do? Roll in the mud?’ Peter began separating what he thought was supposed to be whites from colors.
Peter hummed a few oldies as he sorted. The late spring breeze wafted the smell of freshly mowed grass. Peter just stayed in the moment, allowing his mind to partially blank.
‘What the -?’ Peter was yanked back to full attention when he picked up a pair of heavy yellow gloves.
‘He uses his teenage kids!’ Peter vibrated in slight agitation. ‘What am I saying? Of course, he does. Duke’s a metahuman.’
Peter blew out an exasperated breath.
The clearly armored gloves had a light coating of dried mud. Peter checked them for any sign of tech.
‘Nothing electronic.’ Peter turned the yellow and black gloves inside out for a few seconds. ‘Hm, Knuckle guards and an insulator for electricity? What he’s like Dillon?’
“Hey, Peter, do you have my laun-” Duke walked in.
‘Think of the devil.’ Peter turned, gloves in hand.
Duke’s micro-expression made Peter laugh privately in his mind. Duke settled on an over-the-top cheer.
“Oh, hey!” Duke reached for the gloves. “You found my cosplay gloves.”
Peter couldn’t help the skeptical look that crossed his face. ‘Are you actually going with that, kid?’
“Yeah, man. I know, but the girl I’m dating in school is into it… So.”
‘Right. Four out of ten. Seesh, he isn’t much better than I was at that age.’ Peter allowed Duke to take them. ‘Granted his is a bit more believable. So 6 out of ten.’
[Meet girl?] Peter couldn’t help himself. [Serious?]
“Ah….” Duke panicked. “Maybe? Don’t… no?”
Duke’s foot caught on Damian’s basket. Duke ended up on the ground.
Duke went invisible.
Peter jerked in surprise. He could make vague outline of Duke and could hear the boy scramble.
“Ah, shit.”
After a moment, Peter began to give a wheezy laugh.
‘Oh, gods.’ Peter wiped tears from his eyes with his shirt sleeve. ‘Sorry, kid.’
Peter recollected Damian’s clothes. ‘So he’s more like Sue or Miles.’
Peter stared down at Damian’s ki for a long moment. ‘Is there some personality trait reason why invisibility-type metas develop?’
He resumed. ‘Too bad I can’t run that by Hank or Banner.’
______________________________________________
‘Sounds like Jason.’ Peter perked up as he passed the main Game room. ‘Just the man I’m looking for.’
“- suspect something.” Jason was responding to someone. “Thompson said – hey, Peter!”
‘Did I miss another information opp-’ Peter’s mind just stopped as he saw the back of Jason’s conversation partner. Rather the wheelchair.
“Please don’t.” Peter took a step back from her.
Her dark eyes flickered up at him. Gwen Stacy rolled to face him, her expression angry Peter flailed mentally for words to say. Guilt and the anxiety of the meeting was making it difficult.
“I don’t need your apologize.” She hissed.”You and I were a mistake.”
Peter step back again, shoulders slumping in. Gwen winced, looking away as she spoke.
“I am grateful you saved mine and my father’s life. Because of that, I won’t out you.” Gwen looked at him. “Being in the hospital gave me time to think, Parker. You, you were fun and kind but -”
Peter shivered. “You’re dangerous to be with. I guess Flash was more correct than he knew, huh.”
“Hey, Peter, you alright?” Peter barely kept from shielding away.
‘It’s Jason.’ Peter ground himself. ‘And company. It is not Stacy. And why am I remembering it now?’
Jason’s hand hovered near his shoulder for a moment. Peter plastered a polite smile on his face. The redhead in the wheelchair offered her hand which Peter took. Her grip was quite strong.
“Barbara Gordon.” She smiled brightly. “You must be Peter, Alfred’s assistant. I’ve heard wonderful things about you.”
‘Where have I heard Gordon before?’
Peter glanced at Jason, whom threw his hands up. “Look, man. Nothing bad outta my mouth.”
Barbara laughed. “It’s true. Only Tim actually complains about you and it’s more in the vein of how anyone can not live without social media than anything else.”
Peter shrugged. ‘Old habit. Not being traceable was more important…’
[Bad Clock?] He signed.
Barbara and Jason exchanged looks. “No, man. Did you need something?”
Peter fished out his money and the list.
“A laptop?” Barbara peered at the list which Jason tilted to allow her to see. “Why’d didn’t you ask Tim?”
One of Peter’s eyes twitched. He gestured with crossed arms and than pantomimed using a game-pad.
This received laughter from the pair. “That sounded like you tried talking with him already.
“Yet you want a pretty specific digital camera?” Jason’s brow furrowed.
Peter pantomimed using a camera and gave a sweep of the vista outside. “Got it? Kinda. I’ll see what I can do…Might be a few days, tho.”
[Thank you.] Peter gestured.
After saying good bye, he heard Jason comment.
“What? I am not calling him “P”… it just sounds wrong.”
Peter snickered to himself. ‘Right. Operation Get Tools stage one successful. Now, let’s see if I can investigate the attic before Alfred needs me for another task.’
______________________________________________
Wayne sipped on whiskey as he was lit by the firelight when Peter came in with the dinner tray. Peter pointedly ignored the man’s stare as he set up. Wayne hadn’t been home until nearly midnight today.
“Where’s Alfred?”
[Bed.] Peter felt proud at the smoothness of the gesture. Practice with Cass was paying off.
Only the steel blues glinted as Peter waited for a dismissal.
“You’re quite the mystery.” Wayne finally spoke, his tone a lazy predator. “Gamma level at the very least. Super-strength.”
‘Creepy much, Wayne.’ Peter pursed his lips.
“Durability. Advanced regeneration. Impossibly quick reflexes.” Wayne stood up and began stalking. “Immune to physic intrusion. No known history of activity.’
‘Whoa.’ Peter’s back slapped against the wall. ‘Wait, what?’
Wayne looked like death warmed over, disheveled and tired beyond belief. His eyes, though, shined with unnatural light.
He leaned closer, whispering. “Who are you, Peter Benjamin Parker?”
The smell of whiskey made Peter think of the things he had been avoiding for years. And with Wayne, reaching down to touch him!
‘Ah, nope, not doing this.’
Peter mentally boxed those things away in an attempt to stem the rising panic. He needed to keep his head!
Peter gently shoved Wayne away. Tried to, however it resulted in Wayne stumbling and landing in his chair. Wayne looked like a lost puppy. Alfred stepped out of the darkness like an avenging angel in a nightcap.
“I think, Master Bruce, it is clearly time for bed.” Peter would have kissed Alfred for the save. “Peter, I apologize for having you put the food away again but I think Master Bruce needs his rest more.”
Alfred skillfully man-handled a confused Bruce out of the room. Peter was left thankfully alone.
Alfred found him, pouring the whiskey down the kitchen sink. Peter stared blankly, unthinking, leaning against the sink. Alfred placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Are you alright, my boy?”
Peter jolted, giving a strained smile.
‘Yep. Fine. No problem here.’
Alfred nodded his acceptance. They both stood, watching the bottle finish with a plop of sound.
“I think it might be high time to clear out the bar.” Alfred said mildly. “Master Bruce knows better.”
Peter managed a half-hearted snigger. The silence was more companionable.
“Peter, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.” Alfred tilted his head slightly. “Or we can find you someone who you could talk to.”
Peter closed his eyes. ‘Thank you, Alfred.’
______________________________________________
Doctor Thompson examined Peter’s back. Peter could hear Tim typing down the hall through the open door. Alfred had said something and all of the Manor kids constantly ran interference between him and Wayne. Peter couldn’t help but feel deeply touched.
“I’m about to touch your back.” Thompson warned.
Peter twitched and twisted despite the warning. Thompson hummed in concern.
“Unfortunately we’re going to have to find a different solution. The Sensorblok isn’t intended for prolong use.” Thompson sighed.
[Bandage Shirt fine.] Peter gestured.
‘Granted I’m not looking forward to retraining my senses back to full blast.’ Peter lamented. ‘Well, it was nice while it lasted.’
“It will have to do.” Thompson agreed. “Have you thought about it?”
[Not yet. Now fine. Need time.]
“Understood.” Thompson closed her medical bag. “Let Alfred know if you change your mind. See you in two weeks.”
______________________________________________
“Here.” Jason handed him a phone.
Peter blanked out for a second.
“Timbo said that you didn’t have a phone.” Jason put his hands in his pocket as he slough down. “Didn’t get ya anything top of the line, just in case you gave to get rid of it.”
Peter ignored the knowing look. Peter scrolled through the contacts. He looked up sharply at a specific one. Jason, taken the seat next to him, chuckled.
“Well, he being one.” A dark undercurrent entwined in the amusement. “Alfred didn’t say much but well, it wasn’t hard to figure out what happened. Side’ he hasn’t made any sort of apologies.”
‘So he can apologize.’ Peter gave a skeptical look. ‘Outside of when he’s in public? I’ll believe when I see it.’
Peter hummed in appreciation of the camera. ‘It is so nice to have a Nikon back in my hands.’
Jason snorted. “I didn’t know you could purr.”
“Huh.” Peter blinked at Jason.
“Don’t worry about it.” Jason flipped over the laptop, a brand named WE. “Sorry, it took an extra day. Timbo set you up with internet.”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “Hey, I only let him set up the internet connection. He had to register it with the home network. I made sure he didn’t add anything extra.”
Jason laughed. “Timbo complained that he never meet someone so anti-games.”
‘I am not anti-games.’ Peter countered with a scowl. ‘I just never had much time between caring for Aunt May, college, working, and patrolling. Not that anyone knows that.’
“Hey, not a problem, I’m more of a book person myself.”
Peter shoved Jason gently at his smug look.
‘Don’t I know. Half the time in the kitchen with a book and whatever cookies you’ve stolen out of Alfred's jar.’
Jason wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder, ignoring the shudder.
“That said, your next day off is what Friday? Join us for game night.”
Chapter 3: Bruce Wayne, Crime Lord of Gotham; Part 1
The tie knot slid up to a comfortable position.
'Well, Aunt May, look at me now.'
Peter ran his fingers over his hair, trying to tuck the stubborn curl back. He has nearly forgotten what it looked like when he wasn't starving. However Peter felt more nonplussed at the bandages that were wrapped around his torso and upper arms. Even though his skin had finished growing back, the doctor insisted that he wear it until she said so.
Even Peter had to admit his new accommodations were a stark improvement to where he had been before. The ground floor level room adjoined a small full bathroom, and a sizable walk-in closet. The large windows revealed a lovely orchard. The butter-yellow walls were a nice change from the white of the medical room.
Speaking of which, Peter wished residual headache from when they moved him from that medical room to his new quarters had gone.
Peter grumbled. 'Paranoid much, Wayne. What was so important that you couldn't use a blindfold? That is what most sensible people do. But no, crime lord Wayne has to gas people to get them where he wants instead of, i don’t know, asking.’
Peter idly straightened his vest. 'And it's not like I can just leave anyway. One, the band of Hellspawn should have more than a tired elderly butler to rely on.'
Peter pursed his lips. 'Two, Wayne knows I'm a metahuman. Someone like him isn't going to let a tactical advantage like that go…'
Peter took a steadying breath. 'Peter, what the hell did you do in a past life to deserve this? Torture kittens and puppies?'
'Annoy Stephen too much?'
A knock on the door herald Pennyworth, no, Alfred's arrival. Peter bit the bullet and opened the door. Alfred's expression relaxed minutely as he smiled. Alfred gestured for him to follow. Alfred led him down the hall into the main part.
'Are we sure this is a home?' Peter's head swiveled about. 'Feels like a mausoleum.'
Even with the relatively quiet steps of both men, the halls and vaults of the rooms echoed. Alfred's voice, a murmur, detailed at least the room's function and whether the rooms were in use. Most were not.
"You'll be responsible from time to time to monitor the cleaning staff and gardeners when they are here." Alfred stopped at the kitchen door. "However we are the only ones allowed to clean Master Bruce's office and the kitchen. In time, once Master Bruce is more amenable, the other room that will be your responsibility to clean is the master suite. Occasionally the children's rooms might need your touch, however they are generally responsible to clean their spaces."
Peter counted eight heartbeats in the kitchen. Peter thought he recognized a few voices. Alfred gave a knowing look at Peter's eye flicking from the door to his face.
"I hope you don't mind spending lunch with the children." Alfred intoned, laughter in his voice.
Peter took an instinctive step back. He didn't like that tone. However, he wasn't quite prepared for Alfred. The old man tugged him forward.
Peter stumbled when Alfred pushed him through. He was quick to upright himself. The room went silent for half a second before the sound resumed at a much lower level.
"Meow." Peter jerked to the sound of the tuxedo cat staring up at him.
"Glad to see the Old Man finally let you out." Jason tilted his chair back to look upside at him.
"Peter!" Damian was immediately at his side. "You can sit with me."
Damian picked up the shaggy cat. “This is Alfred the cat. Alfred, Peter.”
“Meo.”
“Please do not bring the cat to the table, Master Damian.” Alfred sighed. “And remember to wash your hands. Jason, please sit correctly.”
Damian placed the cat back down. Then Damian latched onto his right arm and tugged him over to the sink. An incredulous silence filled the room behind them as Damian rattled off about Alfred’s kitchen rules.
He found himself tucked between the only dark haired girl and Damian. Peter glanced about.
Dick gave a friendly enough wave when their eyes met. The only blonde whispered to the dark-skinned young man. Timothy stared at him like a very fascinating experiment.
"Now, children." Alfred's voice cut right through the noise. "I expect you to treat Mr. Parker with as much respect as you do me."
Alfred's deadpan tone indicated he didn't think they would actually listen. “I also expect you to abide by Master Bruce’s instruction. Do introduce yourselves.”
‘What instructions?’ Peter glanced around.
A hand gesture caught his attention. The Asiatic girl smiled and signed hello. Peter signed back that same.
“Cass.” She pointed to herself, her speech slightly slow. “Cassandra Wayne.”
[Nice meet.] She signed the rest after a moment.
Peter, unpracticed, parroted it back, gaining a small giggle.
“Come on, you two. It isn’t like he’s going to bite.” Jason spoke around a mouthful of food.
“Master Todd.” Alfred's despair came out.
Peter snorted to himself as he tried the Shepard pie. Jason rolled his eyes but swallowed. He pointed his fork in the whispering pair’s direction.
“These two are Duke, the Old Man’s newest brat, and Stephanie. They’re Timothy’s henchmen.”
The noise had Peter flinching as the aforementioned trio complained. Peter hadn’t realized he had covered his ears as the lingering embers of a headache flared into a full one. The room swam and shivered. Peter had been aware of movement around as he tried to ride off the nauseous feeling.
A cool glass of water was placed in front of him. A bead of condensation ran off. Peter lowered his hands, looking up. Majority of Wayne’s adoptees were watching from the doorway. Alfred had the same look that he had when Damain had been in trouble. The aforementioned kid was hoovering at Peter’s side, eyes wide in worry.
Peter sipped at the water. The feeling muted at hydration.
[Fine] Peter indicated himself.
“I sincerely doubt that.” Alfred muttered but turned to address Damian. “I can handle it from here, Master Damian. Doctor Thompson will be here shortly.”
Damian looked ready to protest but whatever look Alfred had got a sullen mutter. Peter patted his shoulder, fixing his best reassuring smile. Damian’s sullenness lightened.
______________________________________________
Peter scrubbed his face with a towel with a sigh. Whatever gas Wayne had used interacted with the drug that the good Doctor had given him to manage the sensitivity of his skin. The good news was Peter’s body was successfully fighting it off. Bad news - he was left with the love child of a migraine hangover and rebound tension headaches for the last three days. The symptoms finally were subsiding.
Neither Thompson nor Alfred looked particularly pleased. Peter would love to be a spider on the wall when they finally confront the man - if they could. Apparently he was off on another business trip.
Today, he and Alfred were finally alone in the mansion. Dick, Stephanie, and Jason returned to wherever they lived. Stephanie was currently in college and aside from Dick being a museum curator in the next city over, he wasn’t sure what Jason did exactly. Knowing what he knew of Wayne and Jason’s Wade-like vibe, Jason was probably his father’s enforcer.
Cass, as she preferred to be called, had gone with Timothy who ran one of his father’s research divisions. The rest had to head to school. Speaking of which…
‘And it’s time for Professor Alfred Pennyworth to teach Butlering 201 - Wayne Edition.’ Peter entered the kitchen.
Alfred was watching the hired help in the garden. Peter waited for Alfred to acknowledge him.
‘There’s no way I snuck up on him.’ Peter wanted to tap his chin. ‘Is there even a way to?’
“As much as I love Master Bruce as a son, he has been making this quite difficult.” Alfred’s expression remained enviously serene. “Lesson one, Mr. Peter Parker. Any proper butler worth his salt should know where his employer’s skeletons are.”
‘Am I getting a lesson in blackmail?’
Alfred turned on his heel as a kettle began to whistle. “And he learns the important ones quickly.”
‘I guess so.’ Peter tracked Alfred as he moved about the kitchen.
“Our position specializes in being aware of what our employer needs before they know themselves.” Alfred began assembling the tea service. “And reining them in when they begin to overstep.”
Alfred’s hand stopped on the teapot lid. “I will be frank with you, Peter. I am not as spry as I once was nor as energetic and Master Bruce has become harder to reach, to see some sort of reason.”
Alfred continued his movements. “At one point, he was getting better. Then…”
Alfred’s sigh filled the room with the sorrow only those who raised children could have. Peter fidgeted.
“We cannot change the past, only improve the future.” Alfred gestured for Peter to sit. Steam curled between them at the island.
“He was not pleased to discover that I had been looking for a successor.” Alfred delicately spoke. “Even though he knows that it was a necessity.”
Peter wrapped his hands around his teacup.
“You were my last hope.” Alfred admitted. “The details around your disappearance and subsequent hospitalization didn’t make sense at the time. And your lack of an internet presence. Though now, I can understand why.”
Peter winced. ‘Yeah, it was fun times, fun times.’
“I was pleasantly surprised to find an intelligent, patient, no-nonsense young man who was able to stand up to the boys and to Bruce.”
‘No-nonsense?’ Peter stared in disbelief. ‘When?’
“I knew I had found my successor when you nearly died, saving Master Bruce. Master Bruce even agreed.” Alfred looked to the ceiling. “However, I’m not sure why he’s being difficult now.”
‘Well, it can’t be that Wayne’s pulling pig-tales.’ Peter said dryly to himself. ‘It might have to do with the fact he has a mysterious metahuman on his hands. So, another prove-to-me-you’re-whatever test.’
“Master Bruce has forbidden the children and I from revealing secrets.” Alfred continued. “But any butler worth his salt shouldn't have too much issue in discovering said secrets after all.”
______________________________________________
‘Any proper butler worth his salt should know where his employer’s skeletons are.’ Alfred’s phrase had been bothering him off and on as he went about his assignments the last few days.
Peter sat on one of the roof rafters in the barn. After a discreet search, only places not under surveillance were bathrooms and the barn. Peter lamented the first night that anything attachable to the internet was probably not good for much but the most general of research. Didn’t want to tip his hand at all.
At least Alfred gave him some stationary. After snagging a plastic ziplock, Peter took to stashing his encoded notebook under the eaves of the barn roof, up in the loft.
Peter jolted when he heard voices below the loft.
“ - doesn’t feel like a normal one, ya know.” Duke’s voice floated up.
Peter could hear the snuffling of Titus and Damian’s cow mooing in greeting.
“What do you mean?” Damian impetuously demanded. “Father said he's a regular metahuman.”
Peter was grateful for the dark clothes he chose as he shifted further into the shadows of the rafter. The only issue was he couldn’t see the trio but then they couldn’t see him.
“Regular?” Timothy with that half-tired voice. “Hardly. Doctor Thompson was using the drugs used to treat Superman. And it took Bruce, Jason, and Dick to keep him down. I say he’s an alien.”
Duke replied slowly after a moment. “No, man, Parker’s a metahuman. It’s more like, aw, I don’t know. Like an ocean. Calm, placid, in control…”
‘So Duke’s a metahuman. Okay, that lends more to Wayne isn’t sure how to utilize me.’
‘Aw, shucks.In control? I’m blushing.’
“Like really. Until he had that sudden migraine, I couldn’t tell he was a metahuman until that moment. It felt like I was looking at the sun directly for a brief moment.”
A long silence.
“So?” Peter could easily see Damian with hands on his hip. “He’s strong.”
“Then explain why he’s a butler instead of one of the superheroes or supervillains?” Tim asked harshly.
‘... I was no superhero.’
“Didn’t you mention in the briefing, Tim, that he lost the majority of his family?” Duke spoke up.
“Yeah.” Tim seemed to be thinking hard. “His Aunt had a sister, Margaret or something.”
“But no blood relations?” Duke sighed. “Tim…”
“He’s an idiot, Duke.” Damian dismissed. “Even I can see the tree for the tree.”
“Why you!” Damian’s laughter was followed by thudding feet.
'Hospital.' Peter sluggishly tried to recall why was he in the hospital.
Beep. Beep.
Beep. Beep.
"Easy there." A deep-voice intoned, carefully pushing him back down.
'Wayne.' Peter identified the voice.
"You're safe. Just rest."
Peter wanted to protest but he slipped back under.
Beep. Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
______________________________________________
Peter drifted from the deep.
'Floaty.' Peter tried to smile but his body didn't seem to respond.
Peter heard what he thought were two people in conversation. A woman and a man. Peter lolled mentally and let the darkness take him back under
'Ah.' Peter thought.
______________________________________________
"- grounded me for a week.."
'Littlest Hell-spawn?' Peter drifted up.
"Father seemed relieved." Damian appeared to be sitting, kicking his legs by the movement of the blur. "Not completely sure why."
The lights were thankfully low but his eyes weren't cooperating with him fully. Everything was blobs of color and movement. Peter felt like several large semis rolled him over. Peter managed a faint wheeze.
"Peter?"
'Wha?' Peter managed to turn his head. Something shifted in his throat and nose, tugging the opposite way. 'No Parker?'
Peter winced as metal clang in the room. Damian was shouting for someone. 'My head.'
Feeling more aware, Peter tried sitting up. He winced as pain flared - everywhere. Groaning, he flopped back on the bed. Peter wanted to get whatever was on his face and in his throat out.
'Okay, Peter Parker. What the hell happened...'
"Hello, Mr. Parker." Peter shifted in shock at the woman's voice. " Let's straighten you out."
Peter flinched as a pair of strong slender hands moved him about. The bed shifted so he was partially sitting. Peter huffed in annoyance.
"Doing quite well, considering." The woman moved about, clipped. "It's not often that a man recovers from being shot by an explosive round relatively quickly."
Peter froze. 'Fuck.'
Peter felt a cold stethoscope on his chest on the right side. "Breathe."
Peter numbly obeyed.
"Luckily for you, your healing factor prioritized your inner organs." The woman moved closer. "However, it was touch and go for a bit -"
She seemed to notice Peter's frozen state. "Tch, Mr. Parker, you are perfectly safe. I am not about to out you as a metahuman. Nor will Bruce, Alfred, or any of the children."
A confused noise escaped Peter as the fear abated.
"Right. You probably don't remember the last four times you woke up." Peter watched the mostly white blob shift slightly. "I'm Leslie Thompson, Bruce's personal doctor. You've been comatose for... nearly two weeks."
Peter shifted, wincing in pain. 'Great.'
'Wait. Wayne's personal doctor?!'
"I'm not about to remove any tubing yet... not until you remain consistently lucid." The woman bustled around. She fiddled with a few tubes. "As long as you don't have any setbacks, you should be fully healed in four months - though you'll probably have to wear bandages for a year - at least. Hm."
Peter listened to the woman drop into a mutter. He listened to the background noise. The beep of the heart monitor and the drip of the IV bag didn't quite hide the sounds of machines and echo of a large space.
Peter's stomach sank as he fully realized the situation he was in. A medical bay deep enough underground that no one could be heard screaming.
'Dang it. Wayne has to be a crime lord.' Peter groggily thought to himself. 'I am so screwed.'
The doctor flashed a light in his eyes. He managed a faint hiss.
She hummed. "Light sensitivity… might be a side effect of the pain-killer or the sedative. We'll reduce the dosage by another ten mg."
Peter's brow furrowed. The doctor patted his cheek
"We've been using drugs we typically use on the likes of Superman. You metabolize at too high a rate for most to be effective. We were lucky that we were able to reinflate your lung before your healing factor kicked in."
Peter tiredly shifted. "That said, you cannot afford to skip meals for at least half a year. You are dangerously underweight, Mr. Parker. The next time…”
The rest went unsaid. Peter closed his eyes. 'And here I was worrying that I might not be killable. Alright, stop. No need to go down that pathway again.'
Peter drifted into a light doze. Peter felt the sheet being tucked around him.
______________________________________________
Peter woke to a shift in the air. Blinking in the dark, Peter could hear someone breathing and a heartbeat.
'Come in, said the spider to the fly.' Peter thought irrelevantly.
Light footsteps, feminine, moved over to the chair. Peter was slow to relax. Whomever it was simply sat. Despite himself, Peter drifted into a doze. When he woke up, an origami crane sat perched on his chest and the mysterious woman was gone.
______________________________________________
Peter gagged and glared at Doctor Thompson as Pennyworth pushed him back. His side twigged slightly from his heaving.
Thompson dropped the feeding tubes and gloves in a trash can. Peter twitched when she snapped on a new pair.
The elder woman smirked. "He's a much better patient than the rest."
"Leslie, please." Pennyworth spoke in a much-suffering tone.
'Oye, I'm right here you know.' Peter sipped his water cup moodily.
"He learns quickly and follows directions." The Doctor ticked off. "Most of them either do one or the other."
Peter winced as she undressed his healing side. He didn't enjoy seeing the still missing layer of skin.
"Hm, you're healing quicker. Gain about a centimeter more." Thompson brushed the new skin. Peter shielded away from the ticklish touch.
"I'm going to recommend he's fed more often, once he tolerates solid food." Peter scowled at the woman. "He's still underweight."
The good Doctor raised a brow at his expression. "If you don't gain the needed weight, Parker, I will replace the feeding tube and keep you sedated."
Peter gulped at the woman's expression. She brightened and patted him on the head. Alfred couldn't hide the laughter in his eyes. Peter groaned.
"I will be back in a few days. I trust you'll be able to change the dressing."
"Of course."
Peter stared at the ceiling. Peter turned moodily to the origami
“Psst. Is the devil-woman gone?” Damiam poked his head in.
“Hm.” Peter hummed.
Damian trotted in, dressed in a middle-school uniform. "Jason sends his regrets for not visiting you. Father sent him on some 'business trip' with Richard yesterday. But he gave me the books he promised to get for you."
Peter rolled his eyes affectionately. The littlest Hellspawn grew on him. Damian placed three books on the table.
'Probably because you see him the most out of the others.' Peter shoved the thought back.
"Cass visited?" Damian carefully poked the crane.
'Who?' Peter watched Damian shrug to himself before perching in the visitor's chair.
Damian tucked his legs in the chair bar. "You're looking much better. Less like a mummy."
Peter gave a hum. Damian kept quiet for a beat
"I joined the art club at school."
Peter smiled patiently as Damian collected his thoughts
"Only you and Alfred know so far.." Damian began kicking his legs. "I haven't told Father yet. He's busy - again."
Peter felt a tick of annoyance.
'Okay, Wayne is something else. I can accept that I am his prisoner more or less but this…' Peter kept his expression fairly smooth as Damian continued.
"Alfred is pleased I am making friends. I'm not sure I understand why it is so important." Damian's brow cutely furrowed. "I don't understand a lot of things. Sometimes I miss when I was living with Mother. It seemed easier than."
'God, I should have spent more time expanding my vocabulary.' Peter berated himself.
"Ah, Master Damian, there you are."
Both Peter and Damian startled badly as Pennyworth rolled a serving cart in. Peter yelped as his nerves fired off. Damian barely kept onto the chair.
"Apologies, Mr. Parker." Pennyworth was instantly at his bedside, fussing.
Peter tiredly put up with it. He flashed Damian a reassuring smile at the wide eyed look.
"Hopefully any bleeding is very negligible." Pennyworth sounded contrite. "I didn't mean to catch either one of you unaware."
"Now, Master Damian, I believe you haven't completed your homework yet. And Mister Parker still needs to eat and rest more." Pennyworth gave them both the look. "You may visit Mr. Parker after school tomorrow."
"Of course, Alfred. Night, Peter."
His sixth sense spiked and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t until he managed to down most of the broth that he recognized the aftertaste. Alfred tutted as he plucked the spoon out of Peter’s hand.
‘Really?’ Peter was unable to resist as Alfred tucked him in. ‘Wha-’
______________________________________________
'What is it with this family and their butler sneaking up on everyone?' Peter took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart rate. 'Glad they don't intend to harm me… yet.
Wayne, dressed in a three piece suit, sat. He sat with his hands stepped as his arms rested on the arm rests. The normally jovial man’s brow furrowed.
Peter raised a brow as the silence stretched out. Bruce opened his mouth once.
Twice.
'What the heck?' Peter watched as Bruce finally stood up.
"I'm glad that you're doing better." The doors hissed closed as the man walked off.
'Seriously!' Peter stared in disbelief. 'What is his problem?!'
______________________________________________
“So when are they letting you out on parole?” Jason greeted as he strolled into the room. Bandages looking freshly wrapped. He plopped two more books on the pile. Peter’s nose twitched at the faint order of blood.
Peter stared blankly from the top of the Fellowship of the Ring as Jason flipped the chair to sit in.
“Surprised you haven’t tried to break out.” Jason scratched his cheek idly.
Peter scowled. ‘It ain’t from the lack of trying. You sure the doctor and Pennyworth aren’t metahumans themselves?’
‘Or am I that predictable at this point?’
“I tried smuggling in a phone for ya but the Old Man keeps confiscating it.” Jason propped his chin up. “Not that there’s too much going on really. Still.”
Peter shrugged. ‘I’m a prisoner, kid. Not sure when you guys will realize it.’
“Question. Is the -” Jason pointed at his own throat. “Recent?”
Peter held up three fingers. “Years?”
Peter hummed.
“Why don't you really sign?” Jason squinted.
‘Never had much time to expand my vocabulary when my voice finally gave out.’ Peter made a sour face. ‘Too busy, working any job I could get.’
Peter signed. [No time.]
A long silence. “That sucks, man.”
______________________________________________
Peter screamed inarticulately as he flailed.
Someone called his last name over the whine and crackled of machine and fire. He was trapped under the rubble of a bridge as smoke vaporized his lungs. A metal beam pressed against his neck. He sobbed as he struggled to free himself.
‘No. No. No.’
“Peter.” Peter jolted at his name.
Alfred’s grip was tight on his shoulders. Somehow they were on the ground. Jason, Dick, and Wayne had him pinned partially under them. Wayne had a blossoming bruise on his cheekbone while the two younger merely looked a bit ruffled.
“Are you with us, lad?”
Peter paled, staring at Wayne who watched with narrowed eyes. Alfred repeated his question. Peter, confused, finally nodded.
All three men let go of Peter and backed away, while Alfred maintained his grip.
“That’s a good lad.” Alfred drew Peter’s attention.
Peter flinched despite himself when the door to the room hissed open. Wayne seemed to have decided that Alfred had things under control. Alfred’s frown grew slightly but he became all business.
Jason and Dick stayed long enough to help Alfred upright the bed. Jason remained to help Alfred get Peter back into the bed. Alfred sent Jason off. Alfred sat down in the visitor chair and began recounting when he had been part of the British Army.
Peter drifted into a dreamless rest.
______________________________________________
Four meals later, a peeved Pennyworth came in with the tea set. "I owe you an apology, Mr. Parker. I was operating under the assumption that Master Bruce had finally learned how to communicate."
'So it's not just me.' Peter quipped.
Alfred sighed before sitting down. "Now I am quite sure you have wondered about the status of your employment."
Peter sheepishly tilted his head before indicating a small bit. Alfred paused before sighing deeply, burying his head in his hands.
"Leslie was correct." Alfred muttered. 'I’ve certainly lost that bet."
'I don't think I want to know.' Peter waited.
"Mr. Parker, Peter. Do you remember the terms of the contract you signed?"
'...'
"...."
Peter shrugged after a long awkward moment.
Alfred deadpanned. "Mr. Parker…"
Peter thought he heard Pennyworth say. "Thus history repeats."
Alfred shook his head ruefully. "You remember you were on a two week probationary?"
'What does… wait.' Peter paled.
"Congratulations, my boy, and welcome to the family." Alfred continued drily. "I'm afraid that the only form of resignation acceptable involves six feet under and a wooden box."
Alfred's lip twitched with a suppressed smile. "Fret not, Peter. I suspect you will come to appreciate your position soon enough."
