That evening, Babs was waiting for Jason's arrival and didn't so much as flinch when he jumped through the usual entrance on silent feet.
Or early morning, as it was, since Jason had spent most of his night at the Iceberg, checking in on the Su sisters[2] and their operations. Business was going well — no risk of running out of gamblers in a city like Gotham — but he kept his ears peeled for any signs of the Penguin trying to insinuate himself back into the city or reclaim the Lounge. For now, there was nothing more than the typical whispers, but Jason knew it was only matter of time before Cobblepot reared his beaky nose again. In the meantime, Jason would plan and keep Gotham's armoured underbelly as free of harm as he could manage.
He only left as most of the patrons were winding down, but not before promising to have dinner with Suzie and her mildly unnerving sisters later in the week.
"I take it you're to thank for my uninvited guest last night," he said to Babs in lieu of a greeting.
Barbara rolled around to smirk at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You absolutely know what I'm talking about, O. Thanks to you, birdbrain thinks I've got myself a boyfriend."
Barbara laughed, long and hard. Jason waited it out (mostly) patiently. She had a good laugh… It felt like it had been a long time since Jason had heard it directed at him.
Jason didn't mind Dick's misunderstanding per sé — mostly because it didn't affect him one way or the other to be considered queer — but no one in his family had shown much interest in Jason's (very) sparse romantic exploits. It was strange to have Dick suddenly bragging about how he'd discovered Jason had returned to Gotham with a live-in boyfriend. He could already see that this was going to become a Whole Thing™, especially now that Peter had suggested they take the misunderstanding and run with it. Besides delight at the challenge of pulling one over his siblings' eyes, he didn't really know how to feel about the whole plan (what little of one there was).
"Could be worse," Babs pointed out. "The batlings think you've pulled a B."
Jason's mouth fell open. Fortunately, it was hidden by his muzzle. "They what."
"Your raiding of the manor did not go unnoticed. Their working theory is you've adopted a wayward teen to raise up as your protégé. They've been running bets on what his name's going to be." Babs smirked. "I take it from your reaction that's not what happened."
He shuddered at the thought. "No. No way. No how. Christ, they're like a pack of suburban mums."
"It's been a slow couple of weeks. Apologies in advance for when Wing inevitably spills all. Things'll really pick up then."
"I give it a day."
Babs grimaced in sympathy. "I could talk to him if you want."
"Nah." Jason slouched down into one of the roly chairs Babs left by the computers and took off the muzzle, though the domino mask stayed on. He worked his jaw with a faint grimace. "We're gonna fuck with 'em."
Wicked delight sparked in her eyes. "Ohhh. I can't wait for that."
"You're welcome for being kept in the know."
"Cheap wine and fake dating conspiracies? You've been spoiling me with these belated birthday gifts, Jay. It makes me want to gatecrash to meet this new fake beau of yours."
Jason chuckled. "You'd be a damned sight more welcome than Dickwing." He nodded to the bank of screens. "What'd you find?"
The joking expression faded into something more serious, but only just. "Congratulations!" she cheered ironically, pulling up the file on Peter's DNA. "It's a human!"
Jason studied the documents carefully, but most of it could have been in Klingon for all he understood it. He might be an excellent detective, but he'd certainly not mapped out the human genome like some in the family. "Meta, then?"
"Yes, but not in the classical sense. Best I can understand — because, and I'm sure this comes as a shock to you, I'm not a geneticist — his DNA's been spliced with something inhuman. What that is, I can't be sure…"
"Don't bother." Jason shut down the unspoken offer immediately. The last thing he needed was Bruce poking his nose into things he didn't understand. Chances were he'd immediately spook Peter and then the guy would be lost to the wind. For good, this time. "Can you send the results to Simon?"
"… Amal[3]?" Babs grinned. "I can do that."
"I'll call him in a few hours — it's too early for London right now. Let him know you'll be in touch."
If Peter's genes were a mish-mash of DNA, then Dr Simon Amal was his best choice for parsing out what he'd been mixed with. Not only was he an actualgeneticist, but he had the added benefit of being someone Jason trusted to work discretely, thanks to his own history of self-inflicted gene-splicing.
"Any idea how he got that way?" Babs asked. She looked over the sequence map, where the abnormalities in Peter's DNA had been highlighted in red…
… There was a lot of red.
"No," Jason said, quiet. Those were a lot of changes to Peter's DNA.
"Will he be a threat?"
Without hesitation, he shook his head. "No. I'm sure you heard from Wing, but he's harmless."
"That—" she waved at the sea of red, black and white barcodes, "would suggest the opposite."
"Then he's like Duke. Good. He has the potential to be dangerous, but so do we. And we can do a hell of a lot more damage. Pete won't use his powers like that."
Just that afternoon, after he'd returned triumphant from his interview, Peter had buried his face in Dog's side and blown raspberries into her fur, laughing as she nipped playfully at him. Those were not the actions of someone who used their powers for evil.
"I went looking," Babs confessed, as if Jason hadn't already predicted she would from the moment she'd asked for Peter's name. "He's practically a non-entity. Sure, he's got the essentials — birth certificate, social security, some sparse school and medical records… but that's about it."
"Hm."
"I take it this isn't a shock to you."
Jason levelled her with a look.
"He didn't just stumble across abilities like those by accident, Hood."
"I'm aware."
"Then you also know that all of this has to have been forged. And it's pretty convincing, too. Were it not for how empty the rest of his presence is, I might not have noticed at all."
That at least confirmed Peter's promise that he was as talented as he said it was. Jason was happy that it meant the only people likely to be busting through his doors were bats.
"Did you find him somewhere? Save him from experimentation?"
Jason kept quiet.
"Is he from the League?"
"No." It wasn't exactly their modus operandi.
"Something from Luthor?"
"No." Jason had a recent history with Luthor and the children from hell[4] he'd been asked to 'train' as the next super villains. For all Peter's super strength and whatever else he definitely had up his sleeve, there was no way a guy like him would have made the auditions. He let someone mug him because stopping them would have been unfair, for fuck's sake.
Babs made a sound of frustration. "You have to work with me, Hood! If he's here in Gotham, we have a duty of care to ensure his presence won't pose a threat!"
"And if it does, I'll deal with it," Jason said firmly. It wasn't a lie: he would. He took the safety of Gotham seriously, for all that the bats thought he was just some bloodthirsty cowboy. "But right now, he's just some guy who's found themselves in over their head in Gotham."
Barbara sucked her teeth, still unhappy, but let it go. "I'm trusting your judgement here, Hood. But if this blows up in your face, I'll be the first to say: 'I told you so'."
"I'll get it on a shirt for you," he drawled, satisfied now that she'd backed off. "Maybe a mug."
Babs' phone suddenly dinged, and Jason simultaneously felt his vibrate. He glanced at the screen and sighed while Babs cackled at whatever had turned up on her device.
"Looks like Wing's broken the news," she snickered. "Brace yourself."
Jason sighed again and stood up, slipping his phone back into his pocket. It continued to vibrate with unseen messages. "It's been swell."
"Let me know what Simon finds?" she asked hopefully, already typing back a response to whoever had messaged her.
"Sure thing." He buckled his mask back and left her to it, jumping out into the unforgiving Gotham night.
— + —
Read text only [HERE]
— + —
Three days to get himself a job wasn't a record for Peter, but things understandably felt different this time around. Hard not to when you found yourself transplanted into a completely different city and universe.
(Although, there was an argument to be made that it was not Peter's first rodeo. After all, his return after the Blip had certainly felt like a return to a different world. And there was also the Erasure to think about. Sure, he'd not found himself in a new, foreign world, but the steps he had to take to create a life for himself — one that had disappeared — left him concerningly prepared for his unwilling immigration to Gotham.
He should have been sad about that fact, but all he seemed capable of mustering by day three in Gotham was a profound sense of resignation.)
There was also an argument to be made that the job had nothing to do with Peter, and everything to do with the man Peter had imposed himself upon. Say one thing about Jason: the man worked quickly. Within twenty-four hours, Jason had secured him an interview ('It's not an interview, it's a trial,' Jason tried to emphasise, but he was Wrong) and Peter spent the entirety of Tuesday morning fretting over what to wear for his interview later that day.
One would have thought, after the number of job interviews Peter had burned through in the past six months, he'd have been more confident choosing an outfit, but button-ups and Peter Parker didn't mix well at the best of times. Wearing someone else's clothes only seemed to compound the issue. They were all too short on the arms; too tight on the shoulders and biceps; or big enough he felt like a pre-teen was wearing their father's old work shirts to the school dance. It drove Peter crazy.
In the end, he settled for a light blue shirt that wasn't too tight around his biceps, a dark green Harrington jacket that still smelled faintly of mothballs (one of only two pieces of outwear he'd kept from Jason's stash) and black jeans that were slightly too short but fit okay around the waist. All of the pieces, though certainly aged or ill-fitting, gave the impression of being high quality. Peter was yet again left wondering exactly what kind of life Jason had lived before he'd ended up in this (moderately) rundown apartment in Park Row.
Jason looked highly amused when he finally emerged from his room. The man was lounging with a paperback but set it down when Peter leaned over the top of the couch to try and read the blurb.
"Finally decided then?" Cold blue eyes passed perfunctorily over him. "About time."
"I regret not washing my own clothes yesterday. It would have been so much easier," Peter groaned and rested his head on the soft leather. Jason chuckled.
"You'll be able to buy yourself some new stuff soon enough."
"If I get the job."
"You'll get the job," Jason said with a confidence that Peter didn't think was deserved. They barely knew each other… even if he had impressed Jason yesterday by repairing a couple of appliances on the fritz in a fit of bored restlessness.
In a smooth motion, Jason rolled up off the couch and whistled at Dog, who immediately bounded over. Peter straightened and went to put his shoes on, passing Jason Dog's leash when he approached the door.
Over the last couple of days, Peter had navigated Park Row with Jason and Dog several times. While he was by no means familiar with the district, he was reasonably certain he could navigate his way back to the apartment and felt leagues more confident outside.
Sure, Park Row wasn't great, but it wasn't like every other person he came across had the intention to hurt anyone else. Most people in Gotham appeared perfectly content to mind their own business. Their determination to treat anything out of the ordinary like it was anything but was close enough to Peter's experience of New Yorkers that it gave him some comfort. Of course, his Tingle tingled far more than it ever did in New York (although it felt… strange now… muffled, but not? Like his senses were working on a different frequency from before). And of course, there was a shockingly large number of people who were definitely walking around with weapons… But otherwise, Gotham wasn't as irredeemable as first impressions suggested.
Then again… maybe it was just the presence of Dog and Jason that tempered the behaviour of the Gothamites around Peter. Both cut undeservedly imposing figures that left many veering around them as though magnetically repulsed. Peter was both puzzled and jealous.
But anyway.
His 'job' (Peter refused to properly think it was a job until he saw cold hard cash in his grubby mitts) was on the blurred border between Park Row and Burnley. Peter had researched the route the night before and had already drawn out a route there, which Jason let him take them on with no small amount of amusement.
Jason seemed to do that a lot. Find Peter amusing, that was. He hadn't decided if he should feel offended by that or not.
N&R Electronics was hunkered down beside a convenience store. It had a small glass frontage that didn't do much more than advertise its latest sales and their opening hours. Peter spotted numerous cameras placed at various positions around the shop and the floor above to catch someone's entrance from any direction (interestingly, he saw that one was even pointed upwards). We buy and sell new and used laptops, phones and more! You won't find a better price in Gotham! the inscription beneath its name read in a cheery, blocky font.
They tied Dog to the light pole outside with a collapsible water bowl (Jason reassured him that no one would try to touch her) and walked in. Peter was surprised by how deceptively large the size of the shop was. The glass hadn't given much away, which he suspected was a deliberate choice. It didn't take a genius to guess that a place like NRE was a prime candidate for burglaries, filled full of valuable — if used — electronics.
And filled full it was. The store had everything: computers, TVs, game consoles, phones, washers and driers, hoovers and even a small music section with second-hand CDs and vinyls. Though there wasn't a huge range to choose from, there was more than enough to make it a prime target for robberies. The security guard by the door knew it too: he eyed Peter and Jason (and the woman that came in behind them) with naked suspicion, though he let them through without stopping them. More security cameras littered the expansive store, in full view as though saying, 'we're watching, punk'.
Jason's contact was the son of the owner: a mousy looking man in his mid-twenties with a nervy disposition which was only exacerbated when he saw Jason's towering form. Peter still wasn't sure on the specifics of his connection. Jason had been vague about his influence over Justin O'Brien, leaving it at 'I got him out of some money troubles one time' before promptly redirecting Peter into a conversation about his engineering experience.
Yet again, Peter wondered exactly what kind of man Jason was. 'Bouncer' didn't quite seem to fit the bill, thought his late nights certainly did.
He wasn't sure if he was ready to ask. If he didn't like the answer… where else could he go?
"Todd!" O'Brien exclaimed, hurrying around the counter to say hello. Peter held back a grimace when the man rubbed his hands on his jeans before offering to shake Jason's.
"O'Brien," Jason said, and placed a friendly hand on Peter's shoulder. He tried not to jump at the contact, but wasn't certain he succeeded, judging by the amused quirk of Jason's lips. "This is Peter."
"Hello!" O'Brien's forced cheerfulness was as mildly off-putting as his mildly sweaty hand. Peter watched as O'Brien took him in with a soft frown that was almost immediately smoothed away. "You're, ah, a bit younger than I expected."
"Baby face," Peter said with a put-out sigh. Never mind that he was only eighteen. He knew his way around tech.
"Peter's amazing with electronics," Jason added with a lazy smile. "He fixed my laptop screen in minutes, and my TV when he broke it."
The last one was only a half lie: it was it actually Dog who'd broken it. Peter took the fall though. He was a total sap cool like that.
O'Brien still didn't look convinced, but another glance Jason's way had him folding without so much as a peep. "… We can do a trial run. I've a couple of phones with shattered screens and a PC that needs a new cooling system. You think you can manage it?"
Peter nodded and tapped the strap of the backpack Jason had lent him. "I even brought my own tools."
O'Brien was reluctantly impressed. Peter could tell. "Come out back," he said. "We do all repairs out there. For security reasons."
Given their location, that did not surprise Peter one bit.
Satisfied, Jason left them — Peter had already assured him he'd be able to find his way back. Yesterday, with his few remaining dollars, Peter had bought a new SIM for his phone and spent the better part of last night fiddling with the device to optimise its reception. He'd have no problem getting back to the apartment, and now that he was aware of the mugging risk, knew better than to let his guard down out on the streets.
Peter was both excited and apprehensive about walking back. He felt a bit like a child on his first day going to school without a chaperone. But he was a big boy. He'd learnt to navigate the real world for six months without a lick of support… he could handle the twenty-ish minute walk through Crime Alley.
'Out back' was actually the upper floor of the building, joined by a narrow set of stairs that smelled faintly of smoke. It was an open office space with several work 'stations', a little kitchenette and slumped couch for a break room, and a back wall lined with lockable cabinets full of boxes of spare parts. Peter was relieved to see an organisational system in place. All of the windows had heavy duty metal grates on the outside, and there were even more security cameras looking down on them.
How many times had they been broken into, Peter wondered, until they'd made themselves a system that worked?
There was a woman hunched over one of the desks wearing a set of magnifying glasses. At their arrival she pushed up the glasses and set them on the table, smoothing her hands through her hair. Peter thought she was somewhere in her late 30s, with chin-length brown hair and painfully thin eyebrows.
"Justin!" she greeted in a bright, friendly voice. "Who's this?"
"Peter," Justin said while Peter held out his hand for the woman to shake. Her skin felt unnaturally cool in his. "He's here for a trial, to see if he's as good as he says he is. This is Sandra. At the moment, she's one of our two technicians."
Peter glanced down at her desk: she'd been replacing a tablet battery, by the looks of it.
"Call me Sandy," Sandra said, still shaking Peter's hand. He withdrew and she let go seemingly reluctantly, though she masked it quickly.
"Sure," he agreed, and her smile widened.
"If you need anything, you just let me know, okay?"
He nodded. Justin led him over to the next desk along. The set up was similar, but a little less orderly than Sandra's. "This was meant to be Conrado's job for when he came in tomorrow. You've got until closing to show us what you can do."
Peter slid over the first of the plastic crates stacked on the desk. Inside was a phone with a screen so badly damaged he could have picked out glass with a fingernail. It was a smart phone, but of markedly lower quality than even the cheapest phones on the market in his universe. There was another box inside. The sticker on the side said that it was a replacement screen.
He smiled. It was like being a kid again, dumpster diving for tech that he could Frankenstein together into something useable.
Justin ran through the procedures for work — seemed like they ran a tight ship, checking in and out all tools, materials and products. It was probably a necessity to keep on top of it all when they were working with things that could be easily stolen and sold on. Peter listened attentively — the money for the job was good and he liked this kind of stuff. He didn't want to screw it up from day one.
He 'd probably manage that well enough within a week.
When he'd run through all of the relevant policies, Justin let Peter get started while he sat on the couch to watch. Pushing away the mild discomfort at being observed, Peter settled in, confident he'd at least manage to pass a test like this with flying colours.
— + —
Several hours later, just before close, Peter left NRE feeling buoyant. He'd blasted through the repairs in half the time Justin and Sandra expected of him and spent the rest of the day harvesting what pieces of hardware he could from a box of tech Justin said they'd been meaning to salvage but never had the time for.
Needless to say, he got the job.
Peter could scarcely believe his luck. Three days in Gotham, with a forged identity barely forty-eight hours old that didn't even have a completed high school diploma, and he'd landed himself his dream job. Or. His dream job for someone who didn't have their high school diploma or a GED. O'Brien said he'd only be working part time for now, but the money was decent and promised performance incentives for good work.
Whoever the hell Jason really was, he had some amazing connections.
The only dampener on the whole experience was the odd vibes he'd got from Sandra.
As the trial had carried on, Sandra grew increasingly more fawning. She checked in on his work and showered him with bright, happy compliments. She came to see if he wanted a tea or coffee — and offered to leave and get him something else when he said he had a caffeine intolerance. She asked him innocuous questions about his accent, where he'd come from, where he'd learnt his stuff. Peter was hesitant to say that she was mothering him, but at times it certainly felt like there was something vaguely maternal in her behaviour.
He felt bad to feel so aggravated by her attentions — though he thought he hid it well. Perhaps it was simply because it had been only six months since his aunt's death. Maybe he wasn't used to being the centre of attention after months of being invisible. Or maybe he just didn't feel like he deserved it, considering what had happened to his last mother-figure. Either way, it didn't really matter. It wasn't as if Sandra was unpleasant. Just a littler over-bearing with her desire to make him feel at home.
With his wallet full of cash from his trial run, Peter stepped into the convenience store next door to NRE and browsed the aisles, picking up Doritos and a bottle of OJ to sate the hunger pangs until dinner. There was a small pet food section, so Peter picked up some treats for Dog too. And a box of crackers, for Jason.
At the counter were more of those disconcerting gas masks, but Jason had thrown him a spare to keep safe any time he was out and about. It was of a significantly better quality. Peter had done his research yesterday to learn that a not insignificant number of the criminals in Gotham were partial to chemical warfare. It was a wonder that anyone chose to stay in the city when there were madmen like the Joker or Scarecrow running amok. Apparently there also used to be a number of issues with an eco-terrorist 'Poison Ivy', but she'd toned things down in the last couple of years. The other two however, were still a significant threat whenever they escaped from Arkham…
… That seemed to happen far more often than it should…
Peter was starting to suspect he'd had an easy run of things during his time as Spider-Man. Not a surprise to learn how many vigilantes roamed the Gotham streets when they had such vicious criminals to deal with. And to think that the majority of members on the Bat-Watch forums thought most — if not all — of their guardians were unenhanced? It was staggering and not a little bit humbling. He couldn't imagine pre-bite Peter standing up against the likes of Two-Face or the Joker, let alone enhanced rogues like Bane or Killer Croc.
The cloud cover that had blanketed the city the past two days had finally broken by the time he emerged back on the street, most of his loot packed safely away in his bag. The setting sun cast the streets in warm gold that bounced off windows and the hard surfaces of passing cars. Peter couldn't help but take a picture of one street corner, the shadow of a lamp post and hydrant slanting off parallel to the kerb, a car's window flashing gold patterns across the dark pitted asphalt.
On impulse, he sent the picture off to Jason. The reply was almost immediate:
Nice view. How did the interview go?
Peter grinned, reminded of his recent success.
In twenty minutes you 'll be looking at the new face of NRE!
Well done, Jason sent back. Still smiling to himself, Peter slipped the phone away and tore into his chips — bought with his own hard-earned cash… how novel! — to munch on as he walked back.
Now that he was walking the streets alone, he was much more conscious of the threat some Gothamites posed. His tingle was a constant prickle of awareness over his neck and shoulders, like ants crawling across his skin. Twice, his body side-stepped an attempt to brush past him and pick his pockets, all without conscious thought. It was unnerving — Peter's instincts were certainly sharper than the average person's, but they'd never been so attuned to danger before. Nor had his body reacted like it was disconnected from his own consciousness… Was it just another Gotham thing? Or was this yet another example of his rewritten body throwing a new surprise at him?
He resisted the urge to run a finger over his new spinnerets, stomach churning as he remembered their presence.
His good mood was rapidly slipping away when he felt it: crystal clear and razor sharp, like the plucking of a taut wire. His head snapped up and back, handful of chips halfway to his mouth.
There! Five storeys up on a rooftop. A dash of red. A flap of yellow. Then it was gone.
Peter stood frozen, staring upwards while Gotham moved on without notice. It could have been seconds. Could have been several minutes. But whoever had triggered his senses was gone.
Who was it? One of the bats? A rogue? He wracked his brains. It had to have been one of the many Robin iterations, right? But weren't they usually out at night? That's what all the forums said.
Reasonably, Peter knew there was no reason to suspect they were watching him. He was a non-entity in more ways than one. Chances were, they had just glanced his way while on a stakeout or something and Peter's Tingle, suddenly dialled up to a hundred, had triggered an alert.
Without conscious thought his body stepped to the left, narrowly avoiding another someone attempting to crash into him. He caught their glare and matched it with his own, jaw set.
They kept walking.
The brief interim of sunshine had seeped away, and Peter was reminded of Jason's warning not to hang around once things got dark. He sighed. Shoved his handful of chips in his mouth and started walking again.
He didn't bother glancing back. Whoever had been watching was gone.
[CLICK TO RETURN]
Message to The Bee-Gee. Time reads 8:37PM
The Bee-Gee: Yo what the name of your guest?
The Bee-Gee: And don't lie to me and say they're not there. O knows all.
Red Hood: Peter Parker
The Bee-Gee: tyvm
Red Hood: I'll be stopping by tonight. You out or in?
The Bee-Gee: In today. Come to the clockT
[2] In the Red Hood: Outlaw vol 2, Jason takes over the Iceberg Lounge after his 'attempted' assassination of Cobblepot. After the Penguin is let out of his imprisonment by Miguel Barragan (AKA Bunker), Jason leaves control of the Iceberg Lounge to Suzie Su and her sisters (they're members of a crime family).
[3] Simon Amal AKA Crux was a minor villain in the RHATO(n52) run. He alters himself with alien DNA in a desire to extract revenge for the death of his family. After failing to strip Kori of her powers, Jason sends him to Arkham, where he is reformed. He returns in RHATO(Rebirth) as an ally who helps Jason create an antidote to the technovirus Black Mask had been using to control people.
[4] In Red Hood: Outlaw vol 3, Jason is tasked by Lex Luthor to train up the next generation of villains (eventually he passes them on to Ma Gunn, who is apparently his grandma but this is never actually communicated to Jason????). It's a weird run, but I do love seeing Jason show off his competence and care towards these children who think of themselves as villains.
[CLICK TO RETURN]
Message to Timberly. Time reads 3:09AM
Timberly: You got yourself a BOYFRIEND?!?!?!
Timberly: [Image with caption: I thought I was the only gay in the village!]
Timberly: JASON
Timberly: JASON DON'T IGNORE ME
Timberly: I MUST KNOW EVERYTHING! NOW WE'RE BOTH OUR FATHER'S DISAPPOINTMENT WE MUST SHARE NOTES
Jason: I'm screenshotting this and sending it to Steph.
Timberly: NO
Timberly: NO PLEASE DON'T DO THAT
Message from Steph to Tim. Time reads10:44AM
Steph: TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE
Steph: WHAT IN FRESH HELL IS THIS?!
Steph: [Screenshot of his previous conversation with Jason]
Steph: PREPARE YOURSELF LOSER YOU ARE A COPY-CAT AT BEST