Peter was readying himself for another evening of Spider-Manning when his phone pinged an alert, startling Gary from her new favourite place on Peter's desk. A healthy dose of curious and nervous — Peter didn't recognise the alarm — he yanked the cell over with his webs, the sturdy device slapping firmly into his hand as Gary miaowed her displeasure at the disturbance.
His eyes widened as soon as he read the notification:
🕸️ Karen • Now
New location from 'Operation: School Bus Gremlins[1]
"Holy shit."
God, how embarrassing! The stolen data and all the work he'd done to try and pin down the people who were selling it off. How could he have forgotten? But things had gone so crazy during Halloween, and then there'd been no more exchanges of stolen tech with 'LC' after he and Jason (okay, mostly Jason) busted the sellers in that garage. Even after Jason and his goons 'accidentally' let the woman with the tagged hard drive escape, there'd been nothing. With everything else going on, Peter had effectively forgotten about the whole investigation.
Now, pantsless in the middle of his bedroom, Peter felt unbelievably stupid: he shouldn't have let other things distract him so badly! Sure, Gotham was a new and not-so-shiny playground for Peter to explore, and he'd been having fun learning how to actually fight with Jason… but that shouldn't have been enough to distract him so badly! The mystery of NRE's stolen user data was exactly what put him in the suit in the first place! Idiot!
Eagerly, Peter tapped on the notification and Karen opened a map of Gotham — one Jason had given to him a few weeks ago, after catching sight of Peter's Google Maps printouts and handwritten notes. It had on it all the things a vigilante could need, and then a few extras for good measure. Very detailed. Very Batty.
Karen narrowed the map down to a warehouse in west Burnley, only a few blocks away from the bordering district of Otisburg. It was about as far from Red Hood's territory as someone could hope to get while still remaining in the grimier parts of north Gotham.
He clicked on the location, and it pulled up all relevant information about the warehouse: utilities, property lines, a history of past owners and functions on the public record (as Peter said, Jason's map was veeery comprehensive and so damn awesome). As with much of Gotham's real estate, the warehouse had a multitude of uses since its construction in the seventies. Formerly a shoe-making factory, after the business shut down, it'd passed hands and was turned into a candle making factory, then a warehouse for moist towelettes, until it was purchased by an Obsidian Global back in 2012.
Suspected affiliation with the False Face Society
Peter bit his lip at that.
"Karen, tell me what you know about the False Face Society."
"Certainly," came the swift response. "Would you like me to access the O-Network?"
It didn't take much to agree. A brief silence followed as Karen scoured Oracle's databases. Sorry not sorry to Oracle. But Peter figured, if she was happy keeping his data on file for any old loser in a cape to access, then it was fine for him to do the same. Now that he'd been reinforcing Karen — stripped even as she was — on a server of his own (one that Jason probably didn't know about), she made (somewhat) light work of Oracle's defences. It was certainly convenient, but Peter wasn't about to brag about it. Karen had ten years plus another universe's worth of development under her belt. He highly doubted they'd have stood up to an Oracle that was up to date.
Eventually, Karen spoke up again: "The False Face Society is a criminal network founded by Roman Sionis, also known as Black Mask. Sionis has had numerous brushes with the Batman and his associates. More recently, in the spring of 2015, the Red Hood identified Black Mask as the man responsible for infecting the former mayor of Gotham with an organic technovirus, intended to control the mayor's actions and enabling Sionis's dominance in Gotham. This plan was defeated by Red Hood, who administered an antidote disguised as an unsuccessful assassination attempt."
… Organic technovirus? Assassination attempts? Peter was sure his eyebrows had migrated into his too-long fringe (he really needed to do something with it. The length was starting to seriously annoy him). He'd never heard of anything like an organic technovirus before.
He would have asked for clarification, but Karen wasn't finished. "Black Mask also attempted to control a clone of Bizarro, with temporary success. However, this too failed, due to the intervention of Red Hood and Artemis of Bana-Mighdall. Oracle's notes also state: 'reasons for neutralisation of Bizarro clone unclear, but likely thanks to remaining antidote sourced by Red Hood. Hood refuses to confirm.'"
A Bizarro clone? Didn't Jason used to hang around with someone called Bizarro? Jason rarely spoke of his past, but Peter knew he'd heard the name before. He filed the information away for future pestering.
"Where's Black Mask now?"
"Whereabouts unknown. Black Mask has been missing since April 2015, with no confirmed sightings. Oracle's files note: 'potentially deceased. Suspect: Red Hood', however this appears to be speculation based upon the Red Hood's history of murder."
Potentially deceased. Suspect: Red Hood. The words, delivered in Karen's light voice, echoed around Peter's skull. His gut churned unhappily. Another reminder of Jason's violent past that Peter struggled to reconcile with. But… he would refrain from closing judgement until speaking with Jason. Just as Karen said, without proof, it was mere speculation.
… Speaking of Red Hood, where was he likely to be right now?
Jason had left early, citing some non-specific 'work' that needed to be done, which Peter assumed meant was gang related and therefore chose not to poke with a metaphorical stick.
"Is there anything else you would like me to do, Peter?" Karen asked, breaking Peter's train of thought. Right. The stolen data thing.
"No, you've been great, thanks Karen."
"You are very welcome," she said, and bipped back into standby mode. Peter (literally) couldn't afford to have her running with all engines 24/7. The processing power she needed grew with every repair Peter made to her neural networks, and Peter was stuck working with the cobbled together parts he was allowed to buy at a heavily discounted price from NRE, or on occasion, take home for free if they were too expensive to repair rather than replace.
He threw himself into his whirly chair and booted back up his laptop. It was the same one Jason had loaned to him when he'd first arrived. At some point. Jason had simply ceded possession of it to Peter, which was perfectly fine with him. Who didn't love free shit? Weirdos, that's who.
Gary — further evidence of Peter's love of free shit — mrrted and batted her head against his bare legs. She moved to jump onto his lap, and Peter quickly intervened, hauling her up (for such a mangy creature, she was surprisingly dense) and dropping her on the desk. He'd learnt the hard way that she wasn't very good at keeping her claws to herself when she jumped. Satisfied with a return of the status quo, Gary settled between Peter and the laptop, forcing him to work awkwardly around her. Not that Peter was complaining: her little quirks were still novel enough that Peter didn't begrudge any of her affections.
(And no, Jason. She wasn't going to smother anyone in their sleep and if she did it was obviously an accident!)
It was a gamble, testing the backdoor he'd installed in the computer they'd left at the Garage. There was all likelihood they'd ditched it, or just transferred any files they needed and then ditched it. But! For once the Parker Luck was playing nice and he slipped straight in, the computer still very much up and running.
In fact, the files that raised Karen's alarm had been transferred right onto that very computer, and it took little effort to confirm it was now in a new location. So fast was the notification that they were still in the process of copying the data from the hard drive.
Peter's cackle of glee barely even disturbed Gary, curling up now for what she must have thought would be a nice, long nap.
But as Peter flicked through folders, he was concerned to realise that tonight mustn't be the most recent use of the desktop. There was new data, copied into neatly organised — but lazily encrypted — files. They went back to November 22nd, almost two weeks ago, although the last time they'd copied anything before that was October 28th — the day Jason and Peter came onto the scene. None of the files were tagged with the identifier that would have been there if they'd originated from NRE, meaning that whoever was collecting all this information was getting back into the swing of things, but perhaps hadn't exchanged anything new yet with NRE. Perhaps they thought the threat of the Red Hood had blown over.
They're about to think wrong. Grimly, Peter broke through the encrypted folders and set about corrupting the files stored within. It was his anger that made him reckless. He realised too late that they'd work out something had happened as soon as a buyer opened up their tasty packed of stolen data, only to find all the files had been replaced with fragments of script from the Bee Movie. But until the penny dropped, there was time for Peter to break in and shut them the hell down. For good this time.
… He paused…
This was probably something he should involve Jason in, right?
Scratch that. This was definitely something he should involve Jason in.
"Karen, call Red Hood for me?"
His phone lit up at the command word. "Certainly, Peter."
With poorly reigned impatience, Peter waited for the call to connect.
And waited.
… And waited.
The call didn't connect.
Peter scowled. What was the point of Jason giving him a secure number if he wasn't going to pick up?
Could just be busy. You know. As crime lords apparently are.
Maybe that was the case. But Peter irrationally expected Jason to drop everything to pick up.
… But what if he wasn't able to pick up the call? God— what if he was hurt?
He called again. Just in case.
Again, Jason didn't pick up. Anxiously, Peter buried his fingers into the ruff of longer fur on Gary's neck.
"Karen, have there been any reports of Red Hood sightings tonight?"
An extended pause as Karen searched. "There was one sighting reported to the Batwatch Official Twitter account at seven-oh-eight PM, but it has not been verified."
"Any reports of shoot-outs? Significant violence?"
"None."
Peter chewed on his lip. He was being stupid. Jason was fine. Just because he hadn't picked up didn't mean he was dead in a ditch somewhere. Peter was just catastrophising because… well. Just because. What was more likely was that Jason was busy, just as he said he'd be, and either hadn't heard Peter's call, or wasn't going to pick up the call. Because he was busy.
… But just in case…
Better to find Jason himself. Peter pushed away from the desk and got up. Gary miaowed in complaint and stood up in a stretch. He took a moment to bury his face in her fur after he'd wriggled into the bottom half of his spider-suit. The mats had been so bad they'd had to clip her, but now her coat felt like velvet against his cheeks. Her V8 engine purr rumbled into life and she gave her smoker's miaow when he drew back.
"Don't listen to a word Jason says," Peter told her seriously. Just this morning he'd caught Jason calling her an 'ugly mug' and for that, Peter deliberately oversalted his eggs. "You're the most beautiful cat in the world."
Gary 'aaaacked' at him, whiskers twitching. He wanted to smother her in cuddles again, but duty called, so Peter removed the temptation by dragging the mask over his head. Gary, still unused to seeing it, jumped off the desk, startled, her bottle-brush tail living up to its description.
Peter switched off the lights to conceal his exit and hauled open the window. But before he slipped out into the December cold, he sent another message to Jason, just in case.
He hoped whatever bastard was buying people's stolen data enjoyed reading Jerry Seinfeld play an anthropomorphised bee.
— + —
They were in the middle of renegotiating the price for coke with their supplier in Newark when Shiner, one of the juniors Toni put on guard duty, came skulking inside.
Hood immediately caught their entrance and nodded expectantly Toni's way, as if Toni wasn't already up and out of his seat to get to the kid.
"What is it?" he hissed, hauling Shiner back to the doorway. He wasn't keen on the supplier getting a good look at any more of their members than he needed to. "We're in the middle of a delicate deal here, kid!"
Well, Hood was. Toni's job was mostly to sit there looking pretty, to play good cop to Hood's pants-shittingly bad cop. Case in point: the Fuckface the Manchineel gang had sent for 'negotiations' had come in all sneering and cocksure, ready to ream them over the coals at their request for a new price for their coke, only to be soundly backed into a corner at the sheer mass of shit Hood knew allllabout him, his mama and his baby mama.
Not that Hood had any intention of doing anything to the man's family. But — you know. It was the implication that did the job. Now, the poor fuck was torn between wanting to appease an ominously unreadable Hood and trying to make sure he weren't sent six feet under for making a shit deal.
"We've a cape!" Shiner hissed back. His eyes were wide, too new to really know the procedures for a Code Yellow.
Toni, however, did. He scowled. Every time a cape got involved with their work it was a goddamn ball-ache. "Which one?"
"The — new one. The spider one. Annie caught sight of him jumping onto the roof. Said she didn't think he was tryna play coy."
'The spider one' could only be Spider-Man. Could be worse… Toni hadn't heard much, but what he hadheard was that Spider-Man had been spotted multiple times with Hood, and not in a fighting way. Not to mention he mostly worked in the Alley and Burnley. Hood was a possessive bastard: if Spider-Man was working in the Alley, that meant he had Hood's stamp of approval to work there.
It also explained why Spider-Man wouldn't hide his entrance.
He sighed and clapped Shiner on the shoulder. "I'll pass the message on. Get back to your post."
With a last nervous look at Hood, slouched back in his shitty metal chair as if it were a throne while Manchineel's negotiator attempted to mimic his pose and failed (too much twitching), Shiner left.
Toni pulled out his vape as he approached the men, taking a deep rip before he spoke. "Boss. A minute?"
"There a problem?" demanded the negotiator, foot twitching where it sat on his opposite knee. He'd introduced himself earlier, but Toni hadn't bothered to remember it. That was Boss's job, not Toni's.
"Nothin' for you to worry about," Hood drawled. "Just sit tight, eh?" Ignoring Fuckface's protests, he hauled himself up and stalked past Toni.
Toni followed, after sending a cloud Fuckface's way. "Get comfy, bud," he drawled over his shoulder. "We'll be back… probably."
He jogged after Hood and Abra (short for Abra Cadabra for the singular time he claimed in a drunken rant that he was a 'wizard with women') slipped in behind them, the enormous man ready to lean against the door and glare threateningly at Fuckface. Toni slapped him on the shoulder as he passed and Abra glared back (so, Toni may have been the one to come up with the nickname. But 'Brian' was not the kind of name you wore when working for the Red Hood, so really, Toni was doing him a favour).
Hood took them to the room across the hallway and shut the door firmly. It was the lunchroom (not that anyone was ever around for lunch) and it was fucking lush, if you asked Toni. A proper table and chairs, a working mini-fridge and even a fucking panini press that Hood brought over three weeks back. Toni sworehe saw Carm shed a goddamn tear over it.
It was also not empty. Nidi was chewing slowly on a sandwich when Hood stormed in and she paused, mid-bite. Hood twisted to glare at Toni in question (or Toni figured he was. Most would have said Hood was always scowling, but most people were idiots who saw the red eyes and assumed Hood was just angry by default. But Toni had worked with Hood long enough to know otherwise). Toni shrugged and Nidi took that as permission to continue eating. She made no move to leave.
"Well?" Hood growled. "What was so important we had to be interrupted? Leander was minutes away from breaking."
Ah. Leander. So that was his name.
"We gotta Code Yellow," Toni said, and revelled in the pissed off string of expletives that grumbled out of Hood's mouth. A master at reading the room, Nidi continued to work slowly through her club sandwich.
"Who?" Hood sighed, running a hand through his hair. The faintest trace of white was showing, right at the scalp, but it was only noticeable when he brushed back the blackened flop of fringe.
"Annie thinks it's the new one."
A pause. "Spider-Man?"
"Said he wasn't trying to hide his entry. Through the roof."
"It's always the fucking roof," Nidi muttered. Toni nodded in agreement. Always the fucking roof.
"I see," Hood sighed. Toni waited for more of a reaction, maybe some orders to batten down the hatches or whatever the fuck — as there would be if it was one of the Bats triggering a Code Yellow. But Hood just pinched his nose in resignation, which more or less confirmed Toni's suspicions about Spidey's affiliations.
The hulking man turned away and wrenched open the lunchroom window. The metal frame screeched in protest at the mistreatment and Nidi grimaced.
"Yo, Bitsy!" Hood shouted into the night. "Get the fuck down!"
Silence. For a moment Toni wondered if Annie was wrong, but then there was the sound of running feet — fucking from where? — and suddenly there was a head popping into the window — upside down, mind you! — and a pair of big buggy eyes were peering inside.
Toni didn't screech — in front of Hood? He would never — but it was a close thing. He did pull out his Glock however, thumb resting on the safety.
Whatever kinda cape Toni expected to see working with the Red Hood, he was not prepared for the bright and chirpy, "Hey guys!" that came out of Spider-Man's mouth. Nor was he ready for the awkward little wave of his webbed hand. "What's cooking?"
"What the fuck—" Toni said.
"I'm Spider-Man—"
"They know, Bitsy," Hood huffed, clearly exasperated.
"Good news!" Spider-Man went on, elated. "The tracer works great!"
"I'm thrilled," said Boss, sounding anything but.
"I can't sense it from too far, but my tracker did a great job, too. Only had to run through a few blocks before it picked up the tracer, then it was just a matter of—"
"Bitsy." Hood snapped his fingers and Spider-Man abruptly cut himself off. He stepped back from the window. "Get the fuck inside. You're letting in the cold."
Toni didn't regret keeping his Glock out when Spider-Man did as he was told, crawling through the motherfucking window like a goddamn spider to perch upside-down on the ceiling! Fuck! Toni had just thought the spider thing was a gimmick, like the rest of the Birds and Bats! Apparently-fucking-not and he was not okay with that discovery. Humans weren't meant for sitting on ceilings upside down! They were made to be the right way up, both feet on the ground. Or one on the ground, if you were about to kick a guy in the face.
"Put the gun away, Toni," Hood said, not even lookingat Toni. "This guy's got sticky fingers. And he likes to break things."
"You break a guy's gun one time," Spider-Man drawled.
"Once was enough. Now get down before I go lookin' for the bug spray."
Spider-Man, who even from his vantage point on the ceiling Toni could tell was a little guy (like knew like, okay?), kissed his teeth at the Red Hood. "You're no fun tonight."
"I'm no fun any night."
That was a lie. Hood was heaps of fun when he wanted to be. Give the guy a rocket launcher and something to point it at and you'd never see a guy so happy.
Perhaps unaware of this fact, or maybe just 'cause he was bored of being upside down, Spider-Man neatly flipped, holding onto the ceiling with the tips of hisfucking fingers before he dropped to the floor. Immediately, Toni felt kinship with the cape: he barely came past Hood's shoulders, though the skintight suit left little to the imagination. Despite his slightness, the guy was built solid.
He also appeared to be allergic to standing still. Spider-Man's foot tapped as he took in the lunchroom the direction God intended, only to brighten as he noticed the benchtop.
"Oh hey! I recognise that!" Spider-Man chirped, pointing at the panini press. "It's not shorting out anymore?"
The grill was from Spider-Man? Nevermind what Toni thought before. Spidey could sit on as many ceilings as he damn wanted. Suddenly delighted, Toni tucked his gun away and Hood's shoulder's relaxed minutely.
… Interesting.
"It works great," Nidi said, having finished the first half of her sandwich. She'd clearly put two and two together herself, because her next question was: "Think you could get us a Vitamix next?"
"I'll keep an eye out for one," Spider-Man said cheerfully, not even missing a beat at the request. "Gotta see what turns up." He rounded back on Hood. "We need to talk."
"This is feelin' like déjà vu." Hood noted. "Kinda busy here, Bitsy."
"This is important," Spidey said, uncaring of Boss's lukewarm protest — which was telling all on its own. "It's about the day job."
That got Hood's attention. "You got a ping?"
"Yeah. Finally!"
Toni ripped his vape and let the strawberry-flavoured cloud stream out. "You go talk," he told Hood, figuring he'd do his boss a solid, for once. "We'll close the deal."
"We—?" Nidi cleared her throat, then nodded when Toni glared. "Uh. Yeah. Sure."
Hood was clearly torn, but Spidey was glancing between Toni and Hood, visible only through the subtle twitches of his head.
"Huh," Spidey said quietly. "So that's why you sometimes smell like strawberries."
Toni disguised his reaction with another plume of delicious and probably cancer-inducing fumes. "That'd be me," he confirmed, then took a punt, based purely on his hunch. "You the reason he sometimes smells like burnt eggs?"
Spidey made raw sound of offence. He rounded back on Hood, irate. "You told them?"
"I ain't said shit," Hood snapped back. He clapped a big hand on Spidey's shoulder and began leading him out of the lunchroom. Toni didn't miss the journey southwards that hand took as the two passed, until Hood's hand rested right on his waist, fingers splayed in possession.
Boss paused at the door and rounded back on them, Spidey already over the threshold. "One-fifty and not a penny more," he told Toni, as if Toni hadn't been sat right beside him through the deal.
He gave a lazy salute anyway. "You got it, Boss."
"And no shooting at him, or they'll double the price."
Damn. There went Toni's evening plans.
"Boo," he cried after Hood, but the man had already shut the door. Toni crept over immediately, ear pressed to the painted wood to try and listen for their receding footsteps, but apparently Spidey was as silent as Hood was. Instead, he waited what he figured an appropriate amount of time before he turned back around and joined Nidi at the table. Leander wasn't going anywhere, after all. As far as Toni was concerned, there was no rush.
"Well," said Toni, slouching down into the seat and taking another leisurely rip. "Didn't realise Boss was a queer."
"Oi!" Nidi snapped. She always was chattier when her brother wasn't around. "Watch your fucking tongue!"
Ah. Right. Cisco, Nidi's brother, used to be a Francisca. Not that most people in the crew knewthat. Mostly Cisco was known for being chatty and fucking terrifying with a knife. Toni winced. "Right.Mala mía. Didn't mean no harm."
"Who says the Boss is gay, anyway?" Nidi grumbled, shrugging off the apology. She was finally almost done with her meal. Slowest eater in the goddamn universe, was Nidia.
"You're shitting me." Toni took a fortifying pull from his vape. "Did you see how those two were? I ain't never seen Boss be so fuckin' doting."
"Could be his kid," Nidi pointed out and Toni laughed at the absurdity of it.
"As if Boss'd let his kid play a cape. And he's too young, and Spidey's definitely too old." Toni assumed. Boss was younger than most would think, but Toni could never pin it down. Could be twenty-five, could be thirty-five. And Spidey's voice was young, but deep enough for him to be an adult. "'Sides, when would he have had 'im? Ten?"
Both were silent for a moment as they contemplated it. There were plenty of kids who became parents far too young in Crime Alley. Even with Hood getting clinics and drives up for educating them on safe sex, there were plenty of kids playing adults behind closed doors. But even then, ten was pushing it.
"They're definitely together," Toni repeated. Once he got his teeth in something, it was hard to convince him otherwise. "His hand was too low on Spidey's waist."
"Hmm," said Nidi, which in Toni's books was as good as an agreement.
"Besides," Toni added, knowing it was the nail in the coffin. "Spidey said Hood smelled of strawberries."
Nidi's mouth opened and closed. Eventually, she sighed. "Yeah, alright. I'll give you that."
Toni cheered.