Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1
Tuesday, February 9th, 2016, 11:25 pm.

There were many things Dick both loved and hated about being a hero.

He, of course, loved helping people in both the big life saving moments and the smaller “just being there for someone” moments. He loved the freedom of moving about the city like he did. The feeling of nearly flying as he swung and flipped through the city. The almost whisper he could sometimes swear he heard in the wind past his ears of his parents flying right alongside him. He loved the satisfaction of a job well done when the villains finally went down or a piece of evidence finally cracks a case wide open.

Of course there was plenty to hate about his night job too. All the times he was just a little too late to truly save someone. Seeing all the horrors and depravity that humans were capable of first hand and still trying to keep his faith in humanity alive. Watching the same villains escape time after time to start the cycle all over and still trying to believe he is making a difference.

Truthfully though there is no part of his job that brings up such an equal feeling of joy and loathing as dealing with the fanmail.

Through most of his time as Robin fanmail was never something Dick had to worry about. In those beginning years the regular citizens of Gotham saw Robin as an entertaining sideshow/freakshow and most people weren’t convinced Batman even existed. As the years passed and Batman and Robin became permanent fixtures of the city there had probably been fanmail but there hadn’t been any real way for the mail to reach them.

It wasn’t until their relationship with Commissioner Gordon vastly improved (thanks Babs) that he started to mention the piles upon piles of letters being sent and held at the police station for lack of anywhere else to send them. Bruce had surprised Dick then when he had set up a PO box for people to send letters too. Of course the actual location of the box was a secret known to only a very select and highly vetted few and it was the job of one of Gordons highly trusted men to actually collect the mail for Gordon to bring to them (because Bruce is and always will be a paranoid SOB).

It was after that that Dick’s trials of fanmail began. On the one hand, hearing from fans was great. Kids loved to write to him, both when he was Robin and possibly even more to Nightwing, and their letters were adorable and often hilarious. They lost a bit of the charm when primary school teachers started having them write them as a school assignment but even then kids had a way of being snarky and original when they wanted to. Most of these kids had been hearing about him their whole lives so they typically had plenty to say (and dear god did that make Dick feel old, he was only 28 for goodness sake that’s not that old).

The ones Dick liked the most were the people who wrote to him after he had saved them. Not because he wanted their thank you’s and gratitude, though they offered plenty of those, but because they would often include little things about what they were doing now. Things about the events and milestones they got to be there for because Dick was there for them when they needed him. That was the whole reason he got up every night and donned the suit. So that all the joys, moments, and just life got to continue for the people around him when it otherwise wouldn’t.

Of course, in life, nothing stays pure and wholesome for long and in a place like Gotham the ugly side of humans is quick to rise up and try to suffocate the good.

A lot of the time it’s just people filled with anger or even hurt that just want someone to hate and blame when things go wrong. Dick’s long lost count of the number of angry rants he’s read about how awful what he’s doing is and how he’s only making the city worse. Even worse are the letters blaming Dick for his own failures. The times he’s been not quite fast or smart enough. The times things go wrong and lives are lost. It breaks Dick’s heart to read the letters from those people whose hurt over losing a loved one has turned to hating the one they can put the blame on. And of course they still have to read all the letters no matter what they say cause sometimes they’re the last type and those are the letters from the villains themselves.

Sometimes it’s one of the rogues (the Joker regularly tries to write Jason everytime he is out of Arkham but those letters do NOT get passed on) and sometimes it’s a new sicko, serial killer, or wannabe evil mastermind who can’t resist bragging to the Bats about their crimes. These letters mean Bruce insists every letter be read regardless of its contents because you never know when one might contain clues of someone to watch out for or details that lead to a break in a case. He’s right of course (the bastard), it’s happened on multiple occasions but that doesn’t make it any less awful to read, at least for Dick. It’s the emotional whiplash of it that makes it so hard. He feels like he’s braced for impact every time he opens another envelope but at the same time he knows how important it is.

Which is why, on a miserably cold February night, when Alfred’s reminders have started to go from gentle to stern. Dick finds himself in the Batcave slogging his way through almost three weeks worth of letters.

He isn’t alone in the Cave, Tim is there on the Batcomputer working on case files. Even more surprising is that Jason is here in the Cave as well. Ever since Bruce came back from being lost last year Jason and Bruce have been slowly, very slowly, working things out. It’s still complicated, always will be really, but the shouting matches and death threats seem to be a thing of the past.

Even still Jason doesn’t come to the Cave much by choice considering the tension between them tends to spike any time work comes up. Granted, Bruce isn’t here right now since he is out patrolling with Damien but Dick is still happy to see him there. Especially since Jason doesn’t seem to be there for work at all just sitting off in one corner quietly scrolling on his phone. The contentment that fills Dick at having his brothers there with him makes it a bit easier to open the next letter which is, naturally, when his world implodes on him.

Dear Nightwing,
You have never met me and I very much doubt you will recognize my name but you might recognize my father’s Dr. Andre Parker. If you do not that wouldn’t be much of a surprise either as, despite his ambitions, he did very little to earn recognition before getting sentenced to prison and dying in a prison riot. His one claim to fame would be being part of the team of scientists responsible for the Kon El project. You see my father was a geneticist who wanted to work on cloning and like so many others he took very little note of the ethics around such projects. He wanted to be famous and he didn’t care what it took to get there. While working on the Kon El project my father learned the process by which they took normal cell DNA and converted them into viable gametes. After this the Kon El team faced delays and setbacks from trying to combine kryptonian and human DNA but my father decided on a different route.

He found a man willing to sell him the DNA of a hero and used it to make a sperm cell. Since my father was also the type of man to see women as nothing but walking incubators to serve men’s needs he saw no problem with using this sperm to impregnate me, his 16 year old daughter. Five months later my father was arrested and I was left to survive on my own, pregnant and alone. I’m sure you’ve already guessed where this is going but I will state it clearly all the same. The DNA my father used was yours. The child I gave birth to is our son. I’m sorry.

If I could go back and do things differently I would have contacted you the moment my father went to jail. Things could have gone so so differently. But I was a frightened, pregnant teenager with no idea who to turn to or what to do. I was taken by Gotham CPS where I learned my father was not the worst the world had to offer. Being pregnant was probably the only reason I survived and managed to escape the fates of others in the Gotham foster “care” system.

On August 10th, 2007 I gave birth to Peter Benjamin Parker and he became my whole world. I love my son with everything that I am and I swore I would do whatever it took for him to have a happy life. I like to believe that, so far, I have mostly succeeded. My Stellina always seems to have endless joy both for me and the world around him. His curiosity knows no bounds and he is as deviously clever as he is smart. His smile is the light of my life and I don’t know what I would ever do without it.

As we have both grown older and learned I came to realize how wrong it was of me to not tell you. I know you deserved to meet your son and watch him grow as I did. But I am a coward at heart and I was too afraid of what might happen. I am by no means well off or connected and I was so afraid that if you learned about Peter you would take him from me. The thought of losing him paralyzed me and so I buried the guilt and said nothing.

I might never have written you this letter but 4 months ago I started feeling sick. The fatigue and pain quickly became debilitating and I was forced to quit working and go to the doctor. After a multitude of tests I couldn’t afford I was told that I am dying and there was nothing to be done. I am too far gone for any hope. Now I am plagued with nightmares every night, not of death, but of what will happen to Peter when I’m gone.

I have no one in my life to take him in. No one I can even trust with the secret of his parentage. So I am begging you, please, please save him. Save our son. He is only 8 years old, he can’t possibly make it on his own as I did. Please don’t let him be turned over to the horror that is the Gotham CPS. You have to know that it is rife with abuse and ties to human trafficking. I can’t bear to think on what would happen to him there.

I’m sure there are many things you’re feeling now. Maybe you feel violated at the theft of your DNA. Maybe you’re angry at me for keeping him from you. I’m so so sorry. Maybe you feel nothing towards him and don’t want him part of your life. I’m sorry but please please don’t make Peter pay for my mistakes. He is your son and he needs you.
I’m sorry,
May Parker

Dick couldn’t breathe

Son

He has a son

Over and over the single word repeated in his head till it felt like the only thing to exist.
Son
He has a son
He has a son that needs him

Suddenly Dick shot up from his chair banging his knee harshly against the desk. He felt himself get lightheaded and darkness clouded the edges of his vision but still the only thing he could think was that one word.
Son

“-eathe, come on Dickwing, breathe.”

Who was-? A large red bat filled his vision. Oh, Jason. Jason was in front of him now. When had-? What was he saying?
“Come on Dick listen to me here and take a deep breath”

Oh right breathing Dick was supposed to be doing that. Jason’s hands were on Dick’s shoulders and his hands shot up to Jason’s arms to latch on to his brother. That bit of grounding was enough for Dick to finally feel capable of inhaling. It was shaky and no where near the deep breath Jason had asked for but-

“There we go. Keep going. Just breathe Dick don’t think about anything else.”

Don’t think? How was he supposed to do anything but think? That one word echoing and taunting him.

“Yep. Keep going, just like that.”

As hard as it was Dick knew he needed to shake this off NOW. There was something he needed to do and he needed to do it immediately. So through lungs that felt like they had a steel band around them he made himself breathe. Deep and steady as he could manage. From over Jason’s shoulder he could see Tim still seated at the Batcomputer but turned around to face them, concern etched all over his face.

“There you are” Jason said “Think you can tell me what’s gotcha all worked up now.”

Dick didn’t really think he could but as he kept up his attempts at breathing he reached down and grabbed the Letter to hand it to Jason.

As he did so something else slid out of the envelope and onto the desk. Dick looked down to see a picture of a young boy who could only be Peter. God, he looked just like Dick. His coloring was different. A bit less tan and sandy brown hair instead of Dick’s black but his face, that cheesy grin that sent a mischievous sparkle to his eyes, was exactly like Dick’s. And those eyes, those doe brown eyes, eyes that Dick knew so well from memories. Those were his mother’s eyes set in his own face and Dick had to find him.

Dick was jerked from his thoughts when an almost animalistic growling started to sound around the cave. He looked back up as best he could since his vision had started to grey again. Right back to breathing again.

The growling was coming from Jason who was still holding the Letter. Some distant part of Dick knew this was a problem. Knew Jason’s eyes were starting to get too green. Knew he needed to be doing something about that. But Dick was still struggling with just the whole breathing thing and Jason had let go of his shoulder and only one thought, one word, was filling Dick’s head, and-

“Tim” barked Jason “Find May and Peter Parker. Now.”

He ended his order on an even lower growl while still staring at the Letter. Not the near scream Dick probably would have. Over Jason’s shoulder Dick saw Tim’s eyes very briefly flash with pure fear before he steadied himself. Lowering back from where he had half risen from his chair he turned back to the Batcomputer and began typing away.

Good. That was good. Tim would find them. Tim could find anybody (even supposedly dead heroes lost in the time stream). At the same time he watched Tim place a com in his ear.

“B emergency in the batcave you need to get back here immediately” Tim barely seemed to wait for a reply. “Dick is having a panic attack. He’s having trouble breathing and has gone nonverbal. Jason is also in distress.”

Any other day Dick would have probably laughed at Tim’s tendency to understate things. Jason probably would have been upset over that descriptor. Today neither even acknowledged him.

Dick watched as Jason reached for the picture of Peter still on the desk. A part of Dick wanted to snatch it from him, to keep it all to himself but a larger part of him still couldn’t make himself move. As Jason lifted the picture Dick could see it was actually two pictures back to back with a lock of sandy brown hair in between.

The second picture tore at Dick’s heart even more if such a thing were possible. In it a tiny newborn boy lay sleeping wrapped in a little blue blanket. Below was written “Peter Benjamin Parker, August 10, 2007, 6.8 pounds, 19.5 inches”.

His son.

Jason flipped the photo over when he saw whatever Dick’s reaction was. Dick wasn’t sure, his face had started feeling very numb. Jason’s face seemed to start paling too as he lay the Letter and his hand down on the desk for support.
“Tim” was all he seemed to be able to get out but it was enough.

“May Parker died at Gotham General Hospital 11 days ago on January 30th. Peter Parker was placed with CPS in the home of Andrew Ellis….he was reported missing yesterday morning.”
no
No
NO

A roaring sound filled Dick’s ears as he lost all sense of the world around him. He had no idea what kind of sound left him as his legs finally gave out and he hit his knees. All he knew is that he had failed. His son needed him and he wasn’t there. His son. His son was gone, enduring who knew what and Dick wasn’t there. His son.

Chapter Text

Tim was not used to being someone not in the know.

He made a point of it, as a matter of fact. It was his thing, being the one person in the room who knows. The person holding all the cards. The one making connections faster than anyone else because he’s the one who has the whole picture. Right now he decidedly does not have the whole picture.

Oh he’s already pieced some of it together. One look at the photo of Peter Parker he found was enough to tell him that somehow, someway Dick has a son out there. The kid looked just like him.

Which means that Dick is a father. Which means Tim is an uncle….and nope packing that freak out up and shoving it to the back of his brain where he can pretend he’ll unpack and deal with responsibly later. It can go right beside the wounded and strangled noise his big brother just made before collapsing to his knees, alongside the shot of definitely not fear he felt when Jason’s voice did that.

Right now he has a kid to find.

It’s been a long time since the last time Tim was so glad to hear the sound of the Batmobile pulling up. But that means Bruce is here and that’s good because Dick is still falling apart, Jason is about to lose it, and Tim does not know what is going on.

Some small part of Tim half expects Bruce to stop and demand an explanation from him but he rushes by with Damian on his heels to kneel beside Jason in front of Dick on the floor, reaching out to lay a hand on Dick unoccupied shoulder. Damian looks like he’d like to be there too but between the massive bodies of the two men in front of him he is forced to simply hover from a distance.

Bruce doesn’t even have to ask before Jason is handing over the Letter with a grim look on his face. And yeah Tim’s pretty sure the capital letter is already well deserved at this point. His opinion is cemented even further when Bruce pales before he even finishes reading it and Tim is fairly certain he just saw Batman’s hand actually shake as he lowers the Letter to glance over at Tim. Thankfully a shake of Tim’s head is enough to answer the question in Bruce’s look because Tim will not be repeating the sentence that made his brother make that awful sound.

Bruce turns back to Dick to try and bring him out of his panic attack. Which seems to consist of rubbing Dick’s shoulder and gently saying breath over and over (and why exactly was Tim expecting Bruce, of all people, to be able to solve a problem involving emotions). At least Jason seems to have been knocked out of his rage by needing to care for Dick.

Then like an angel sent from the heavens (or more likely the kitchens) Alfred appears. From the cup in his hands drifts the scent of lavender tea and both Bruce and Jason step back to let him through.
Damian takes the opportunity presented and slides his way over to Dick’s side. Dick almost immediately latches on to Damian in a bear hug which is a…worrying reaction but not a truly unexpected one. Damian would have stabbed anyone else trying to pull that move and probably Dick too on a good day but today is decidedly not a good day.

Bruce and Jason both make their way over to Tim unfortunately sans Letter cause Damien has snagged it. Tim’s actually starting to get annoyed now cause, seriously, even Alfred seems to have gotten a glance over Damien’s shoulder. Tim needs to know!

“What have you got?” Bruce asks in a much softer voice than normal. Tim lowers his voice too and prays his big brother is still too out of it to listen cause what Tim has is also decidedly not good.

“May Parker died on January 30th and Peter Parker was placed with Andrew Ellis by CPS. On Friday February 5th Peter’s school reported him absent. Yesterday morning Ellis reported him as a runaway to CPS and a missing persons report was filed…it’s already been marked a cold case.”

“Cold case?” exclaimed Jason “It’s not a cold case after less than 48 hours”

“It is if you have someone on the force “misfiling” the reports” replied Tim

“Fuckin’ pigs”

“Ellis’ record is also atrocious. Nothing too terrible on his criminal record, though that's kinda suspicious as well, but his record with CPS is awful. Of the dozens of kids he’s housed over the last 3 years none have stayed longer than a couple months. Most run away within the first few weeks. The younger ones tend to get picked up again by CPS the older ones end up staying on the street. He’s had 27 accusations of abuse by the kids that stayed there all of which were discarded for “lacking sufficient proof”.
What is even more concerning is the pattern I picked up on. Every 3-4 months a kid that gets placed with him runs away over the course of the first or second weekend there. He reports them missing on Monday and by 24 hours it’s filed as cold. I’ve yet to find any of those particular kids that were found or even reported to CPS.” Tim pauses for a minute to let that sink in.
“I’m currently looking into his banking history to see if I can find a money trail to follow but we all know how careful these types of operations tend to be and Peter fits the pattern exactly” Tim continues, seeing no point in tiptoeing around that conclusion they can all see.

“Send me this bastard’s address” Jason demands, turning to grab his helmet from the corner he’d been occupying.

Tim can see Bruce straightening up and opening his mouth to argue and braces himself. This is going to get ugly fast. A perfect storm of all the people Jason hates most (traffickers, child abusers, and people going after his family) has set the stage for possibly the worst fight yet.
Jason sees it coming too and snaps “Don’t even think about it B!” His hand reaches down to rest on the hilt of his gun but at least he hasn’t drawn it yet. “This fuckin’ piece of shit doesn’t deserve to live a single second longer. Are you seriously going to sit back and let this shitstain get away with this?”

Bruce frowns but doesn't back down “We need him for information. He’s our best lead on Peter.”

Huh. Not the argument Tim expected Bruce to use. In the past, Bruce has had no problem grinding the “all life is sacred” and “we can’t be executioners” arguments into the ground no matter how many times Jason has disregarded such claims. Could it possibly be that this is the situation that finally pushes past Batman’s steadfast determination to protect all human life? Dick’s son being in danger? And holy shit Bruce is a grandfather….nope not dealing with that either right now, back of Tim’s brain it goes (and no it is not getting crowded back there, no way).

The reply seems to throw Jason off too but he rallies, eye narrowing “Lead? Yeah I’ll get every drop of information I can squeeze out of him but we both know a lowlife like him isn’t going to have an in with the real operation.”
Bruce nods “But as long as he isn’t visually compromised he can remain in communication with them and lead us to someone who does.”

Of course it’s also possible Bruce has just decided manipulation is a better route than trying to change someone’s core values in the middle of a high stress situation. Which, you know, points to B here cause he hasn’t always been willing to bend even that far. He probably believes he can keep Jason distracted and hesitating long enough to get Ellis arrested.

“Not visually compromised? Are you actually suggesting we just sit back and watch him?!?”

“No.” Bruce replies “We can’t risk him getting access to more kids and we need to get whatever information he can give us. But we can get more from him staying in contact with his superior than we can from a dead man.”

A quick glance over his shoulder suggests another possible reason for Bruce’s drastic change in tactics. Dick still hasn’t said a word, sitting on the floor clinging to Damian while Alfred walks him through grounding exercises. This is absolutely not the time or place for a screaming match or worse an actual fight to break out. Bruce may just be stalling and will start up his usual “no killing” arguments as soon as they leave the cave.

Whatever the reason, Jason seems to agree this isn’t the place and without another word he turns around to stalk towards his bike as he pulls out his phone to look for the address that Tim did, in fact, send him.
Tim turns back to his computer. Whatever it takes he is going to find Peter Parker. He prepares himself to settle in for the long haul but not before taking the four seconds necessary to dart over and grab the discarded Letter.

Chapter Text

Jason probably shouldn’t be driving in the state he’s in.

This is by no means a novel thought for him. There’s been probably a hundred times before that he’s thought the same. Funnily enough he’s never driven drunk in his life. However, driving shot, stabbed, bleeding out, or going days without sleep? Those he has lost count of.

The worst though are like this, times when the green covers his vision, when his blood is rushing far faster than it should, and the rage nearly chokes him.

No Jason should not be driving but just like all the times before it doesn't matter. It doesn’t matter cause Dick’s kid is out there hurting and alone and Jason has to find him. It doesn’t matter cause a picture of a happy boy with an achingly familiar gap tooth smile is seared into his brain and that kid needs him. It doesn’t matter cause a newborn’s fuzzy curls above tiny chubby fingers clutching a hospital blanket are already branded into Jason’s heart right alongside the rest of his family and he knows from cold unrelenting experience that those will never come off. It doesn’t matter because at the end of this drive is the mother fucker who hurt and sold his nephew and that son of a bitch was going to pay. Jason will kill him and there was nothing and no one that was going to get in his way.
…
…
…
God damn Bruce, that bastard!

Jason was well aware that he was being manipulated. The chances that Ellis being alive and “visually uncompromised” would actually give them any sort of lead on Peter were practically nonexistent.
But what if there was nothing else? What if whatever contact info he had led nowhere and Jason killed the only scrap of hope they had left. Could he look his brother in the eye knowing he had disregarded that one in a million chance to save the kid as not being worth it?

No. He couldn’t kill him. Not yet at least. Bruce wasn’t the only one capable of being sneaky and if he thought putting it off would be enough to make Jason “cool off” or change his mind he was dead wrong.
For now Jason will do whatever it takes to get as much info as possible out of this shitstain.

Andrew Ellis’ address was an unremarkable brick townhouse that was exactly as rundown as one would expect a townhouse in Gotham to be. Jason’s scouting from adjacent roof tops revealed the man himself was equally unremarkable and still awake in the top floor bedroom. Tim had confirmed no other kids were currently living there. Batman seemed to be getting himself settled on a slightly taller building across the street. Looking to Jason he gave him a nod. So it seems Red Hood was going in solo. Damn, B must be feeling smug knowing his argument worked so well.

Repelling down from the roof and slipping in the hallway window were only a moment's work. Red Hood stood in the doorway of the dirtbag’s filthy bedroom mentally counting up empty beer cans and bottles waiting for his mark to notice.
It was better to make it look like he had just emerged out of the darkness than just rushing in since Red Hood didn’t need the element of surprise to take down this trash but he did want him scared. Normally Hood enjoyed this particular trick but right now he was just impatient to get started. Finally Ellis spotted him and jumped in fright exactly as expected.

“What the-”

That was all he got before Hood was on him and he’d been laid flat. Red Hood didn’t bother with questions yet just his fists. He mostly avoided the face but kidneys, ribs, and thighs were free game. Hood knew exactly how much force was needed to bruise, crack, or fracture bone and he used those skills mercilessly.

Ellis had abandoned any attempt at fighting back and had begun begging and pleading with him to stop within the first minute. But Hood didn’t stop. For several long relentless minutes more he continued his assault, secretly hoping B was getting a bit nervous. Finally continuing seamlessly from his last punch Hood reached up to lift Ellis by his throat, cutting off his pleads and sobs.

“Where is Peter Parker?”

Ellis did nothing but gasp, not seeming to comprehend the question. Hood shook him roughly

“You will tell me where Peter Parker is. Now”

This time Ellis was listening so Hood threw him to the floor to answer. Placing his foot on his chest to keep him down.

“I don’t know. He just ran off one day. I haven’t seen him.”

Immediately the beating began anew. This time Ellis' groin wasn’t spared either.

“Lie to me again and I start with the knife. Where is Peter Parker.”

“I don’t know! It’s the truth! I-”

“You what?”

Frantically the man’s eyes darted around the room. Desperately looking for an escape but there was none.

“I- S-s-someone took him. Alright? I don’t know who they are or where they went. I swear I don’t. They have him alright?”

“So some random guy just came up and grabbed him and you didn’t care enough to say anything huh?”

“I-I-I-” The man seemed to sense a trap looking to the knife Hood had already placed his hand on. “N-no. I mean…I”

“You mean you sold him.”

Ellis finally seemed to be realizing just how screwed he was.

“Look man, these people are powerful, they don’t just chat with guys like me. I don’t know anything man.”

“So you’re worthless to me. Is that what you’re saying?” Hood asked. Moving to reach for his gun instead.

“NO no no. I can tell you. I’ll tell you everythin’ I know. I swear.”

“Then talk”

“Yeah, yeah so look whenever a kid comes in I’m supposed to draw some blood with these kits they send me and send it back to a P.O. box. If they want them a couple days later they send a text with a drop off location and I have until noon of the next Sunday to get them to the drop off and then I file the report on Monday. I ain’t never seen noone and I don’t know why they pick the ones they do cause they don’t even take the metas” Ellis hesitated, once again looking frantically for escape. “I…I get paid 5 grand beginning of each month, long as I’m still sending in blood. But that’s it! That’s all I do! I don’t know anything else.”

“Oh that’s it huh?” Hood could feel his blood boiling and had to wrestle his rage back semi under control. There were several reasons people bought and sold other human beings, all of them were awful but blood work brought up some of the more horrific. Not taking metas ruled out fighting rings which really only left one option. Human experimentation. God, Hood really hadn’t wanted it to be that one.

“No details you’re leaving out here?” He asked. Mostly to stall for a moment while he continued tamping down his rage.

“N-n-no” the guy stuttered but if that wasn’t a clear yes the look in his eyes was.

Hood struck, flipping the guy to his side, pinned beneath Hood’s knees and left hand, he drew his knife and started at the top of the ribcage. He didn’t stab, laying his blade flat against flesh he made a wide shallow cut with the rib as his guide. When he reached the end he went back to the top. Reversing the grip on his blade he made a parallel cut on the opposite side of the rib. Resulting in a wide strip of flesh peeling off the man’s ribs. It wasn’t deep enough to risk bleeding out but it hurt like hell and would leave a nasty scar if the guy was actually going to live that long.

Hood didn’t bother trying to gag or muffle the screams. The neighbors here had listened to who knows how many kids cry and plead. Now they could listen to a grown man’s. They'd probably do nothing all the same.

After three strips Hood stood back up. After waiting a moment for the cries and gasps to clear he growled “Sure there’s not something else you forgot to mention?”

“P-p-please, no”

A swift kick to the man’s injured side as a warning but Hood needed a lead. “So you just stumbled your way into this ring with no contact with anyone? Just found’m advertising on the internet and decided to give it a go?”

“N-n-no” Ellis wiped some of the snot and tears from his eyes. Seeming all too eager to answer questions now. “I m-m-met this guy three years ago now, down at the Bulldog bar, says his name was Micheal Brown. I’d just lost my job and was bitch’n ‘bout it when this guy shows up. Tells me he can get my record scrubbed enough that CPS will let me take in kids. And I didn’t ever want no kids but he says once you’re in you don’t gotta keep’m long and his people will pay way more on top of CPS. I, I needed the money alright? He gets me set up, shows me how to get the b-b-blood, and then he’s on his way. I ain’t seen him since ok? I just needed the money”

He looks back up at Hood as if he’s actually looking for some kind of sympathy or understanding. Hood feels nothing but disgust and rage.

“And the cop that handles the kids files?”

“Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout no cop. I just file the reports same as always.”

He seems to be telling the truth this time. Hood reaches for his gun, actually drawing it this time. “Then it seems you’re of no further use to me.”

“NO! No, I can get you more!” Ellis begs “I can get in contact with people! I can give them to you! Please” he ends on a sob.

And Hood knows he’s lying again, just trying to save his own skin now (literally) but that nagging voice that says “maybe, just maybe” won’t let him go through with it.

“You had better.” He growls, grabbing Ellis’ attention once again. “I’ll be watching. Every day I don’t get a name I’ll be back and you’ll get another.” he says gesturing to Ellis’ side.

He stalks over to the cheap burner phone and uses a device to quickly clone it and allow Tim to monitor it. “The P.O. box?” he snaps, even knowing it’ll be useless. The demand for anonymous mail boxes is ridiculously high in Gotham. The Bats try their best but there are goons in the city whose exclusive job is to go around destroying any camera that might be watching post offices. After that he slips back out the window leaving the scumbag to cry on the floor.

It’s a bad idea, considering the state he’s in, but Jason heads up to the same roof as Batman all the same. He finds a camera and parabolic mic already set up and brushes past to pace the length of the roof. He’s way too wound up to talk yet and B has always been the quiet type so long minutes pass in silence. After a half hour the sounds over the mic indicate the fucker is finally getting up to dress his wounds and Jason settles down to listen.

“He isn’t going to be able to give us anything,” he states.

“He’s still the best lead we currently have.” B replies. Knowing as well as Jason does that “Micheal Brown” is probably a fake name.

It’s still not the moral argument Jason expects. It’s still that calculating usefulness argument that almost sounds like B wouldn’t care once his usefulness is over. Jason knows it isn’t true but he’s not willing to push it any further.

Truthfully Jason is tired. It’s well past midnight now and while he’s very used to late nights tonight has been rough and it’s far from over. He’s had enough talking for now. Time to settle in and wait.

Several hours of waiting later and it’s clear Ellis is planning on running. After a long while of crying and cursing over his wounds Ellis had started rifling through his closets and throwing clothes on the bed. Finally unearthing some type of sizable duffle bag he had begun stuffing it with little care. He then attempted to buy a plane ticket only to find his credit card being declined. Checking his bank account revealed his accounts “mysteriously” frozen. The cursing had gotten more creative at that point. Still Jason was getting bored.

Sunlight was just starting to lighten the clouds and this guy was giving them nothing. He’d been frantically pacing and muttering for a while but even with the mic they couldn’t make sense of his chopped up words outside of curses and what sounded like…basic addition? The numbers were too small for him to be counting up money but Jason’s not sure what else it could be.

Suddenly the man stops and seems to stand in the middle of the room gathering his nerve. He takes out the burner phone and just stares at it for long moments. Jason sits up, shaking off his fatigue with something finally happening but still the man just stares at the phone. Finally, at what Jason belatedly realizes is exactly 5 am, Ellis calls the number. The phone rings, both men holding their breath, and rings and rings. It stops with a click and Ellis immediately redials.

“The number you have dialed is not in service please check the number and try your call again”

“No, no you can’t do this to me! I need help.” cries Ellis redialing again.

“The number you have dialed-”

“NO!”

“The number you have dialed-”

Ellis chucks the phone against the wall. Jason huffs. He knew it was useless. He also knows it’d be useless to try and finish him off now. B is still sitting there. He’s too good at masking to show it but Jason knows he’s tensed, ready in case Jason tries exactly that.

In the meantime Ellis has moved back to his closet. The sound of tumblers indicate he’s opening some sort of safe. B turns the volume up on the parabolic mic. Is he actually trying to figure out the combination by listening to the tumblers from across the street? Jason can’t help but shake his head in exasperation.

Suddenly there is a click he is all too familiar with but before he can react the sound of a single gunshot rings out. Both from across the street and deafeningly loud from the mic. It sets Jason’s ears ringing but both he and B still immediately jump up to head in.

The scene in the bedroom is exactly what they expect: one dead dirtbag with a bullet through his brain, a useless phone, and not a single lead on Peter. Jason’s not sure if he feels cheated or satisfied. Mostly he’s just tired.

B turns on his com “Oracle, divert any dispatch away from our location until we have time to search.” He seems calm and completely unfazed by what’s just happened but, considering that’s pretty much all Batman ever is, it doesn’t mean much.
Now they just have to search this asshole’s shitty house and hope against hope that something gives… for Peter’s sake.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, February 10th 2016, 5:45 am.

Dick is well aware he’s being a hypocrite.

He would and has told plenty of people who were too close or too emotional over a case that they should step back and trust others to handle it. But he’s also tried to be understanding when each and every one of them refused so he thinks he gets a pass here.

Last night, after Alfred finally got him grounded and able to function again he had wanted to stay and start working. But Alfred had all but demanded he leave the Cave and head to bed and one does not just defy Alfred Pennyworth. So Dick had done as asked.

Sleep, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. As emotionally wrung out as he’d been his thoughts had still raced and every time he’d even started to drift off his brain would start conjuring nightmare scenarios of all the things that could be happening to Peter. After a decade and a half of hero work his mind had plenty to pull from. Hours upon hours of reliving all his worst cases and failures and now they all wore his son’s face. So, exhausted and red eyed, Dick made his way back down to the Cave.

As expected Tim is still there, chugging coffee and typing away at the Batcomputer. Duke is also there, suited up and ready to start his patrol soon. The grim look on the normally easy going teen’s face is enough to know he’s already been caught up. He comes up to Dick to clap him on the shoulder.

“Your kid is absolutely adorable” he says, as upbeat as he can manage. It’s almost enough to wring a smile out of Dick. Trust Duke to find something positive to say. He looks to where Duke has gestured to see one screen full of photos of Peter.

In addition to the two from last night there are yearbook photos, surveillance camera stills, and what looks like photos from a city science fair. Dick wants to stop and stare. To just be able to break down and mourn all he missed of his kid’s life. But he can’t, he’s already wasted too much time being emotional. Now is the time to buck up and do his job.

He makes his way over to Tim who looks Dick over in obvious concern but luckily Tim is not an even bigger hypocrite and doesn’t give Dick shit about his sleep.

“I ran DNA from the hair and it’s a positive match.” Tim must be trying to start off easy cause that was hardly in doubt. “Jason’s questioning of Ellis confirmed trafficking and gave us another name. Micheal Brown. Found a matching ID but it and the address on it are fake. Babs is running face ID from surveillance at the bar he seems to have been recruiting from but that was three years ago so it’s a lot to go through. Banking info was a bust, routed through too many overseas accounts. I’ve been working to find our dirty cop but no one is lining up quite right. I’m thinking we might have multiple dirty cops in on it. Our two most likely candidates are on patrol today so Duke is going to tail them today to clone their phones and computers so we can catch them in the act. Unfortunately it’s likely they know even less about the operation than Eliis did.”

“Did?” asked Dick. Did Jason actually get away with killing the dirtbag?

“Ellis shot himself an hour ago” Tim replied “He had attempted to call his contact which was a stupid mistake. He had told Jason that the phone was for them to text him, not call. So as soon as he tried it they disconnected the number. Guess he was desperate and figured he was screwed when Hood came back for his info so…”

Dick has to swallow down the helplessness he’s feeling. Their best lead is dead and the rest are looking less hopeful by the second. “Anything else?” he asks.

Tim hesitates very clearly not wanting to tell him and Dick braces himself. “Ellis said that the kids that were taken were chosen based on blood work he sent them.”

Dick feels like there is ice in his veins.

“Is Peter-?”

Tim is already shaking his head. “No meta gene. For him or May Parker.”

Dick once again feels his vision greying and has to lean against the computer desk to take some deep breaths. He doesn’t need Tim to spell it out. It’s all his worst nightmares made flesh.

He pulls himself together, straightening back up. “What can I do?”

Again Tim hesitates but Dick will not be taking no for an answer he has to do something.

“We need someone to go through May and Peter’s apartment, things, and neighborhood. It’s unlikely anyone he knew personally before being moved is involved but it’s worth looking and if he manages to get away he’ll likely go back to somewhere familiar. Also…you should think about going as a civilian.”

Dick raises an eyebrow at that last part but quickly catches on. It would draw the wrong kind of attention for Nightwing to be out this time of day. It’s a risk, having him be the one to go, people who knew Peter could easily make the connection but, honestly, at this point, having word get back to whoever has him that he is actually the son of “Richie” Grayson-Wayne could only help. Dick would vastly prefer a ransom demand over the nightmare he’s currently facing.

And truthfully this is exactly what he wanted to do anyway. A chance to learn about his son. He’d love to learn from Peter himself, of course, but he’ll take what he can get.

Several heartbreaking hours later, Dick returns to the Cave with three boxes that constituted all that was left of May Parker’s life. In these boxes were memories of a devoted mom who worked two jobs without complaint because her son was worth it. A woman who was kind to her neighbors and willing to help out whenever she could. A horrible cook who was forced to grow up too fast but loved her son with all her heart. A woman who had faced her own death bravely and made plans to take care of the only person who mattered. Who had believed till the very end that Nightwing would do the right thing and save their child.

Tim is still there, still working, and raises an eyebrow in question.

“May Parker’s pictures and sentimental belongings.” Dick says “She put them in storage for Peter.”

“And they just let you have them?” Tim asks. Eyebrow climbing even higher.

Dick’s knuckles turn white around the box he’s holding. “It was on the list to be auctioned off next month. Sleazy ass owner sells off people’s stuff and then claims it gets destroyed in the next villain attack. He’s in custody now for theft and fraud.”

Tim just shakes his head unsurprised but, seriously, what kind of person do you have to be to sell off an orphan’s dead parent’s things?

Inside the boxes are all the most important things in a parent’s life. Children’s drawings and love worn toys, awards from school and a paper volcano, framed pictures of the two of them and a photo collage of what looks like cut out magazine pictures of famous Italian landmarks. Dick treats everything with the care it deserves and wonders. He wonders if they had dreams of traveling to Italy. Wonders what the toys were named. Wonders if he’ll ever get to meet the boy these things were meant for.

The last box seems less carefully packed. In it is a boy’s comforter and sheet set, summer clothes, and other more day to day items. At the bottom is a black hard drive with a large blue NW written on it. Dick feels his heart beating faster and wonders if this last message was her giving up on him as she faced the end.

The drive contains no message or even anything that would indicate Peter’s parentage. Instead it contains roughly a million photos and videos of Peter. His first night home, his first steps, his first day of school, kindergarten graduation, science fairs, and thousands of everyday moments in between. May Parker captured them all.

Dick is entranced for hours. Slowly scrolling through the life of his son. He doesn’t even notice the others coming in. He clicks on a video that looks to be from last summer.


A young boy with a green cape and black fabric with eye holes cut out tied around his face runs up through a park.

“And what are you up to?” asks a gentle female voice from behind the camera.

“We’re playing Batman and Robin! Buck always wants to be Batman but that’s ok cause then I get to be Robin.” the boy exclaims, bouncing on his toes. “We already rescued Mr. Sprinkles for Amy and now we’re going to face our arc-nem-is-sis, Dr. Bee-man!”

“Oh my! He sounds quite fearsome. You two should be careful facing such a dangerous foe.”

“Don’t worry mom, we will be” the boy says earnestly before running off revealing the cape behind him to be a green pillowcase with a backwards R written in sharpie.

The video cuts off for a moment before resuming with the same boy sitting on a park bench pouting and sniffling while a hand reaches into an open first aid kit to get another bandage for the red welts on the boy’s arms.

“So want to tell me what you learned from your fight with Mr. Beeman?”

“Doctor Bee-man” the boy emphasizes before he straightens up and the most stubborn look imaginable comes over his face. “He may have gotten away this time but we’ll never give up! I’ll do better next time, just you wait and see.”


“Jesus” laughs Jason from beside him “Kid got your stubborn streak that’s for sure”

Dick just huffs a laugh in return wiping tears from his cheeks.

He looks around to see that everyone is here. Even Babs made the trip in instead of just being on video. She comes over to grab Dick’s hand offering her silent support but she must see the guilt eating him alive.

“Don’t do that Dick. It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it though?” he scoffs “That Letter came in over two weeks ago. When May was alive and Peter was safe and sound. If I’d just read it-”

“The ‘what ifs’ and ‘should haves’ will eat your brain” quotes Jason “You can’t change it now and guilt ain’t gonna help anybody”

And he’s right. It won’t help and it’s time to get to work.

It’s late evening by now so B must have called a meeting before they go out. They gather up around the computer. Cas is off on a mission but Steph sends him a nod and determined grin as she sits down next to Duke who is towling his hair dry from his post-patrol shower. Damian must be wary of another hug attack as he makes no attempt to slide past Jason to Dick’s side but he hovers near all the same. B gives a nod to Tim and as one they all turn to him. Tim, despite how sleep deprived he is at this point, shows no hesitation as he begins.

“Peter went missing from Gardenia park sometime after 9pm Saturday. Cameras show Ellis driving to the park and leaving just 8 minutes later. There’s no sign of Peter in the vehicle so he was probably in the trunk..and he was probably concealed somehow since it wasn’t late enough for a child to go unnoticed.” Tim ignores the various sounds of anger around the room at that.

“No other vehicle enters the park that night or early morning. The next to enter are all families or locals that check out and none of them reported any suspicious packages at the park. We have to assume they came in from a different street but all the surrounding streets have steady traffic and nothing stands out from that night. Ellis’ phone shows they are very specific about the drop off locations and, despite the large time window, are most likely there very quickly due to the public location. Duke examined the place they left Peter as well as the others on the list.”

“I took photos, though there’s nothing really in them. I got some footprints too but it’s public enough there were a lot of them. Maybe we get lucky and the same ones are at multiple sites” Duke interjects.

“He also bugged the two cops I suspect are involved.” Tim continues “They’re as dirty as any other cop in Gotham. They get a text with nothing but the kid’s name at 5 Monday morning and get paid from the same untraceable bank account but only 100 bucks each time.”

“Wait. 5 am?” Jason interrupts “Ellis waited till exactly 5 am to call the burner number to get in contact with them.”

“Hmmm not really sure what to make of that to be honest.” Tim replies. Looking around to note everyone else’s confused faces. “We’ll keep it in mind. Other than that the cops aren’t going to be much use. Just the kids' names and a “paperwork mistake” are too circumstantial to expect anything to come from it. We’ll keep monitoring them and maybe give Gordon a hint but keeping them in play will at least let us know if there are more kids going missing.

I was able to use the information from them to find another foster “parent”. George Harwell. Pretty much the exact same story as Ellis. Suspiciously clear record. Child abuser. And kids going missing over the first weekend. He doesn’t currently have any kids and I’m monitoring closely in case that changes. I very much doubt he’s going to be able to give us anything more. B what’s the call on this?”

B is silent for a long moment before replying “Robin and I will check him out tonight. We’ll ensure he doesn't notice and set up surveillance. We should find an opportunity to clone his phone. We’ll continue to monitor until there’s a risk of a kid being placed with him and then we’ll move in.”

“I’ll see what I can do about delaying that” Tim says “Babs, Micheal Brown?”

Babs wheels forward to open a new window on the computer showing a man with cropped blonde hair and a sleazy smile. “Micheal Brown is a fake name and I found another fake under David White. Super creative here” she mumbles the last under her breath.

“Doesn’t seem to be a Gotham native as I can’t find anything before 5 years ago where he pops up in the same neighborhood as Ellis. No record of employment and spends his nights bar hopping but not getting drunk. Two years later he packs up and gets on the ferry to Metropolis and that’s where I lose him. “Micheal Brown” never lives or works in Metropolis and facial recognition doesn’t show a new ID popping up in the city. Most likely he left the city by car and could be anywhere.”

God they really have nothing to go on here. Dick feels despair creeping in but notices Tim as a thoughtful look on his face.

“So he left 3 years ago? When exactly?”

“June 24th. Two months after Ellis started fostering. Why?”

“A long-shot lead I was gonna bring up next”

Dick sits up. He doesn’t care how long-shot it was; he'll take anything at this point.

Tim brought up two new pictures. One was of the middle aged couple with painfully fake smiles and the other was a sullen teenage boy that just radiated “attitude”.

“This is Dan and Cindy Collren. They started fostering over 10 years ago but 5 years in some of the kids started going missing in the same pattern. Missing over the first weekend and cold by Tuesday. June 5th, three years ago, they got 14 year old Andy Taylor. Kid had already been in the system for years and was considered a flight risk. Over the first weekend they report him missing but on noon Sunday instead. It isn’t marked cold but the police don’t do much anyway. They do note the “concerned parents” calling about him repeatedly. On June 23rd the Collrens were brutally murdered in a home invasion/robbery which no one was ever caught for.”

“Well that’s quite a coincidence," snarks Steph.

Tim ignores her continuing “It seems likely Andy was able to escape between being dropped off and picked up which might mean he might be able to give us more information. Luckily I am way better than the police at finding people and caught Andy sneaking in an employee door at the Metropolis ferry on June 10th.”

“Tch so we just have to find a homeless teenage boy in the middle of Metropolis, who might have already been caught by his pursuer, and hope he can tell us “something”.” sneers Damian.

“Oh gee if only we knew someone in the city who was good at finding people.” Tim returns.

Dick tunes out the ensuing argument. It is an incredible long shot. Even if Clark is able to find Andy, alive and willing to talk, the chances that he would have seen and remembered something that could actually help now are slim.

The problem is that their only other lead is the same as the one they already tried. And if the Collrens are an example of what these people do with lose ends then it might not have only been fear of Red Hood that drove Ellis to suicide. Which means they’ll need to be especially careful with George Harwell if they hope to get anything at all.

“Enough” states Bruce breaking up the boys “I’ll make the call to Clark. Damian, you're with Dick tonight. Patrol around the park and other drop off locations. See if you can find someone homeless or nosy enough that might have seen anything suspicious.”

Damian bristles at being pulled off the main lead but extra caution and stealth means Batman is going in alone. Dick gets up to go put on his suit. Looking back one more time at the paused video of that stubborn little face he feels his resolve harden.

He may have gotten away this time but we’ll never give up!

—--
Bruce doesn’t think he’s ready for this.

It’s a strange thought for him. He’s well known as the man who plans for everything. People joke about his contingencies having contingencies and they’re not wrong. But he didn’t plan for this. He should have. Especially after his own surprise son, but some part of Bruce will always think of his kids as kids.

Oh he knew they’d have kids of their own some day and it’s no surprise Dick is the first. Not just because he is the oldest but because he loves kids and caring for others so much. Dick spends his daylight hours teaching classes to kids on how to tumble and flip (just like his parents did with him) and his nights ensuring they’re protected.

He knows Dick was hurt and even resentful at having to give up the parental role with Damian after Bruce came back. Things have settled over the past year and, as wounds healed, Bruce had started making plans for the day Dick brought back an orphan in need of a home with him. Because as much as Dick might loathe ever becoming anything like Bruce the simple truth was that Dick had too much love in his heart to not give it to someone. He thrived in taking care of others and Bruce expected one day he’d find a kid needing exactly that.

So Bruce had been making plans. Plans to guide Dick through the adoption process (something he had plenty of experience with), a schedule of visits that would provide Dick with the support he needed without encroaching on the independence he so valued.

But this? No this wasn’t what Bruce had planned for. And it was so much worse than with Damian because Peter wasn’t tucked away safe in the manor, or Dick’s place, or even safe with someone else. Peter had been taken and sold and he was scared and hurt because Bruce hadn’t done enough, hadn’t made the city safe enough. Now his grandson was out there and…

His grandson

No, Bruce wasn’t ready for this.

He also (a bit selfishly) wasn’t ready for this phone call. For all that his JL colleagues were generally competent heroes, they were also a bunch of prying, gossiping busy bodies. Clark was far from the worst (Barry) but he would never keep anything from Lois and in a house full of super hearing kids well… news like this would spread like wildfire in the cape community.

Bruce did not feel ready for the sympathy or congratulations that would come his way. Worse, said nosy coworkers were going to want to know everything about Peter. Bruce hasn’t even got to meet him yet. Is it so wrong to not want to share what little he has of his grandson outside the family just yet?

Of course there was also going to be ribbing and jokes about Bruce actually reaching out for help on a case. But it doesn’t matter. It’ll be a cold day in hell before Bruce puts his damn pride before his family’s life (again).

Clark answers on the second ring. “Bruce? This is unexpected. I thought you were in Gotham. Is everything ok?”

“Are you somewhere secure to talk about a case?”

“Yes but I wasn’t aware you had a JL case right now.”

“It’s not”

A pause. Clark is smart enough to fill in the details and to realize just how serious this is.

“What do you need?”

“We’re looking for a 17 year old named Andy Taylor last seen sneaking onto the Gotham to Metropolis ferry 3 years ago.”

“You’re…looking for a nearly adult runaway from a 3 year old case?” Clark is understandably confused. As much as Bruce was hoping to keep from mentioning Peter he knows Clark is just going to keep digging for more information (he’s a reporter for a reason after all).

“We think he ran away from the same trafficking ring we are currently investigating. A child was just taken this past weekend and we’re running short on leads.”

A sharp breath from Clark, trafficking is always a tough subject. Bruce has a short hope that Clark will be too uncomfortable to ask the next obvious question but…

“Who’s the child?” he asks carefully, quickly adding “I can be on the lookout for him too.”

It’s a nicer way of asking ‘what’s so special about this one’ when they both know Bruce doesn’t call for help over any old case. Bruce knows his time is up. Ready or not…

It doesn’t take terribly long to catch Clark up to speed and send him the info. Through his shock the man offers exactly the sympathy and congratulations Bruce was expecting. Before hanging up he says he’ll do everything he possibly can to help and Bruce knows exactly what that means.

He heads back to the computer where Dick and Damian are looking over a map, fully suited up. Dick’s jaw is set and stubborn but his eyes keep flicking over to the screen full of pictures. Bruce comes up behind him to place a firm hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll find him” he says steadfast and unwavering.

Dick’s eyes go hard, determined “Yes, yes we’ll find him”

Bruce steps away, slipping on his cowl and Batman strides out into the night to do what he does best.

Chapter Text

One Year Later
March 11th 2017, 11:59 am

Peter knew it was noon before he even opened his eyes.

He’s long gotten used to being awake and alert for the time when the one meal of the day was brought in and whoever’s turn it was was taken out.

He didn’t need his new senses to tell him danger was coming and his instincts urging him to hide weren’t any help considering Peter’s bare 4x4 cell. He’d already backed into the corner farthest from the door, back pressed against cold steel bars, there was nothing else to be done.

He looked to his left to see Violet and Johnny were both just as awake and huddled up in their cells. As Peter listened to the steadily approaching footsteps he zeroed in on the heartbeats trying to determine if it was just guards or if one of the doctors was coming.

Both options were bad really, in different ways. A doctor coming in meant they had devised some new torture they dared to call science and wanted to pick which one of them to start with. They’d look them over, like fruits in a stand, to decide which was in the best shape to try and survive whatever it was they wanted to do to them next.

Or maybe it wouldn’t be new at all. Maybe they’d be put back in the Machine. Peter had never been able to work out exactly what the Machine was but when he had first arrived here it had consumed his every thought.

Peter had awoken here a year ago to find he had arrived only two days after Violet and a week after Johnny. They had tried to warn him but nothing could really prepare him for the Machine. Laying strapped down beneath it Peter felt like his skin was being sandblasted as his insides bubbled and cooked.

For weeks every single day they rotated between the three children dragging one of them out at noon only to return them, weak and shaking so violently for hours afterwards that they couldn’t even find relief in sleep.

Things had only gotten worse from there. The doctors had started “testing” them. Strength tests and speed tests were the most common but sometimes they got creative with it.

In each and every one the goal the doctors demanded they reach to “pass” the test were ridiculously unattainable. But no matter how physically impossible it was, “failing” a test meant punishment. Punishments the guards were all too happy to carry out.

Both the testing and the Machine continued for months. Occasionally one of them would be injected with some new concoction the doctors had cooked up. Most of these just left them feeling violently ill.

Still, the doctors seemed to be expecting improvement in these tests by Peter and the others and it was when Peter realized they actually were improving that he came up with an escape plan.

He’d tried escaping before, of course, his attempts when he first got here had been pathetic really looking back at them. Scratching and biting at the men who dragged him through the labs. Throwing his body against the steel bars of his cell. He’d even tried prying up the metal grate over the drain in the middle of his cell, as if accessing the 6 inch hole below would help anything.

Each attempt, no matter how useless, was met with harsh punishments. But even as Peter lay there beaten and bloody with his teeth jangling from the taser, he knew he couldn’t give up.

Because the simple truth was that nobody else was going to help them. Peter had no family left and Violet and Johnny were the same. Nobody was looking for them. Nobody would come to their rescue.

Mom had said-

No

Nobody was coming.

If they wanted out of this hell they were going to have to do it themselves.

It was when Peter saw that, ever so slowly, they were getting just a bit stronger, faster, their wounds healing just a little bit more quickly, that he hit upon an idea that might actually work. The doctors were expecting these changes, this was the results they wanted.

But what if Peter and the others kept them hidden? What if they continued to fail the tests and the doctors didn’t know? You couldn’t account for information you didn’t have. Maybe, just maybe, they could continue to get stronger until one day they were strong and fast enough to escape.

So they had made a pact, the three of them, eight year old children whispering to each other as soft as possible in the dead of night. They promised that no matter what, no matter the punishments they endured, no matter the new tests and “science” they faced, they would keep what they could do hidden. They would hide as much as they could and wait, wait for the time to be right to strike.

This promise had gotten harder for Peter to keep after what happened 5 months ago. The doctors had come and selected Peter that day. In the lab, they had placed his hand in a glass box containing the most vibrantly colored spider Peter had ever seen.

Once the spider had bitten him they strapped him down to an exam table and observed. For three days Peter lay on that table delirious with pain and heat, sweating out his body weight. The doctors had actually given him an IV to help and when his fever broke on the third day they were ecstatic to see he had survived.

This had apparently not been the expected result.

The testing had begun anew more intensely than ever but it was different now. Because Peter knew the things they were asking, that had seemed so impossible before, would be easy for him now.

The enormous weights that had once seemed bolted to the floor would have been light as a feather. If he wanted he could have made it through the entire speed maze without once being shocked by a panel. But Peter had made a promise and he was going to keep it. He couldn’t give away what he could do until the time was right. So he hid as best he could.

He had been worried at first that the doctors would spot the one visible change to Peter. A tiny pinprick hole was now on the inside of each of his wrists. Peter wasn’t sure just what they were but brushing his fingers over the area proved they were sensitive enough that Peter was terrified of the kind of pain that could be inflicted on them. So Peter kept his wrists turned down and luckily the heavy cuffs on the examination table covered the area fully. So far Peter had avoided discovery.

His other stroke of luck had come the first time he’d woken up back in his cell after the spider bite. He’d gone to push himself upright only to discover his hands stuck to the floor and they would. not. come. off. No matter how much Peter pulled.

It had only been laziness on the guard’s part that had saved him. A guard had come to pull Peter out for more testing and believed him to be holding on to the bars. The man had begun beating him without hesitation and so had missed the sight of Peter’s hand glued to a perfectly flat surface.

That night in his cell Peter, curled up where the camera couldn’t see him, had forced himself to practice.

Stick and release
Stick and release

All night long and into the morning he practiced. Both his hands and feet until he was certain he was in complete control and wouldn’t risk discovery again.

What had proven impossible to hide had been his new instinctive “sixth sense”. Peter had tried his best. Had tried to ignore the part of him that screamed in warning whenever pain was imminent but his instincts would take over. Moving his body without his permission, dodging blows he shouldn’t know were coming, and doing so at speeds he hadn’t shown himself capable of.

The doctors had been very proud of their “success” and upped his testing but Peter had refused to give in. The doctors had begun muttering things about “hysterical strength” and “subconscious mental blocks”.

Truthfully even with his new vastly improved hearing Peter found it hard to listen to the doctors. Hearing “Subject 37 responds best to…” or “It shows improvement in...” made his stomach queasy.

Said hearing had isolated the heartbeats approaching now and Peter felt his stomach sink as he identified both as guards. A testing day then. Peter glanced over at Violet in concern.

Six weeks ago a guard had been having some “fun” with Violet and had jammed his fingers into her left eye. By the time he had finished with her nothing had been left but a bloody pulp. The doctors had seen this as a chance to try “regrowing” her eye.

What they had ended up with was a horrifying static mass of pinkish flesh swirled and mixed with an unhealthy looking grey jelly that filled the eye socket. Shot through it were thin lines of bright blue that resembled Violet’s normal eye color.

Violet had told the doctors she couldn’t see with it. Something that should have been a matter of course since no one looking at it would have mistaken it for anything like an eye. As always though, their words had gone completely ignored and the testing began.

Violet had let the boys know, in carefully coded whispers very late at night, that she could, in fact, see with it and the tingling sensation from it that ran through her whole body indicated it was capable of something more.

She was careful to not let the doctors know any of this but after weeks of their exclusive attention, testing and probing, and murmurs of “starting over to try again” Peter knew Violet was reaching her breaking point.

Violet must have realized what was coming too. She began to shake where she was curled up in a back corner of her cell. She’d chosen the one on Johnny’s side today.

He was the oldest of them, having just turned 10, and was getting more and more impatient to finally try and escape. He’d stuck his arm through the bars to curl protectively around Violet. Not that it would do any good.

The door finally opened revealing the two guards carrying their meager meals for the day. All three kids stayed perfectly still as the guards opened the doors and deposited each tray.

Only once the doors were closed again did they dare move forward to eat. They ate as slowly as they could, trying to delay the inevitable, Peter did his best to not flinch every time the silent guards shifted.

Once they were done they moved back to their corners. The guards came forward to collect their trays and then they…left. Peter suddenly found himself feeling even more alert than before.

Never in all the time they had been there had someone not been taken after the meal. Every day there had been testing or experiments of some kind. A look at the others showed them equally anxious. This was new and new never meant anything good.

Hours later Peter and the others were still waiting. Normally they would have slept during this time but the anxiety of having a change in routine plagued all of them.

Then Peter started to hear something else new. A new heartbeat, one he didn’t know, a new voice talking in the hallway near the testing room. This voice wasn’t like the guards’ or doctors’. This was the voice of a man with power. Someone who was used to giving orders and having them followed without question. This was someone dangerous.

The new man continued down the various hallways around the labs. The doctors’ voices seem to trail after him in a cloud. They were telling him about their work, clamoring for attention and praise. There was something else too. A smaller, faster heartbeat that was almost drowned out by the other noises.

At length the crowd started down the hallway towards Peter and the others. He kept his body still but whispered a soft “In” to warn the others of the incoming people.

“And here you’ll find our most successful subjects to date.” said one of the doctors pushing the door open before him. “Subject 37 here, you may remember, has been the only survivor of the Alpha Spider project so far. We’re still doing blood and physiology tests to determine how it did so but the data we’ve gathered so far indicate it has had no lasting negative effects and it’s had some promising physical tests since then.”

“Hmm” said the large and well dressed man before Peter’s cell “Simply surviving is no spectacular result. I expect more data on what we can expect the Alpha Spider project to accomplish once it just surviving is not a feat.”

“Of course sir” replies the doctor eagerly before another jumps in.

“One of our most exciting recent projects is on Subject 36 here, sir” moving to Violet’s cell “as you can see…”

Peter loses track of the conversation as the moving crowd reveals a guard carrying what looks like a large bird cage. The bronze color and rounded top remind Peter of the time his classmate Jacob brought his parrot for show and tell. It’s what is in the cage that causes Peter to stare in shock.

There is a baby in the cage. A tiny little girl with dirt and tears streaked over her face stares fearfully back at him as the men continue to talk.

A slight popping noise has Peter whipping around to let out a soft hiss in warning; doing his best to covertly stare Johnny down. Now would be a very, very bad time for Johnny to lose his temper. The men in front of them can not learn what he can do.

A whimper and sniff from Violet’s cell is concerning too for different reasons. He looks over to her but can’t see her face. Violet had taken to covering the left side of her face with her long black hair to hide the disturbing sight of her eye. Both he and Johnny had tried to tell her it was unneeded but she did all the same.

Peter desperately hoped Violet could hold herself together now. The doctors had discovered shortly after growing the “eye” that it was capable of producing tears, of a sort.

Violet had described it to them as feeling like she was crying acid and the burns and bubbles that had been on her cheek for days after had certainly supported that theory. Of course, the doctors had been eager to study them but unfortunately, after a year in this place, it took quite a lot to make any of them cry.

Peter could see how the sight in front of them might do it though. The tiny little girl in the cage was silent as if she already knew better than to call attention to herself. The messy fraying braids her blonde hair was in indicated it had been a while, but not too long, since someone had done her hair for her. From her back, pushing up against the cramped wires of the cage, were two bright red and gold-tipped wings.

Peter knew these people didn’t consider them human. He was by no means used to being referred to as an “it” but he’d heard it enough to understand. But sitting there seeing a tiny winged girl stuffed inside a bird cage he felt his disgust for these people rise to new levels.

“Would you like to leave the new subject here while we finish the tour and start on preparations? It will certainly be an interesting specimen to work on” a doctor asked.

“Yes, a most fortunate catch.” the man replied “And you’re certain the process will not be too much? It would be a shame to damage such a rare specimen too soon considering how young it is.”

“Oh yes. We were able to study exposure levels extensively with the other subjects and are confident we can keep from causing long-term damage while still having the desired effects.”

Peter felt like he would be sick. The Machine. They were talking about the Machine. These monsters pretending to be humans were going to put this little girl in the Machine.

“Very well” said the man gesturing to the guard to set the cage down against one wall. “Let’s continue then. I am eager to start seeing results.”

The men filed out, leaving a tense silence behind them.

Peter knew he needed to do something. Before the horror on Johnny’s face transformed into rage. Before Violet lost the battle with her tears.

He turned to the little girl putting as much kindness as he could in his voice. “Hi there. My name is Peter. What’s your name?”

The little girl sniffed before giving him a sweet smile. “My name is Ava but Mommy calls me Angel. I’m two” she says. Holding up two fingers proudly.

“It’s nice to meet you Ava” Peter replies

The young girl wrinkles her nose, “Angel” she insists.

Peter can’t help but smile. “Ok Angel. These are my friends Violet and Johnny. We’re gonna do everything we can to help you. Alright?”

“Can you take me back to Mommy now?” she asks, smile brightening. And Peter doesn’t know what to say.

Johnny cuts in “Don’t you worry Angel. We’ll be gettin’ you out of here real soon.”

The rest of the afternoon is spent avoiding dangerous topics and learning about Angel. She tells them she’s from Gotham just like they are. Her parents are, seemingly, alive (unlike theirs) and while her dad works a lot of long hours and isn’t home much her mom loves her and always tells her how beautiful her wings are.

She says that she was playing on her back porch one day when her mom had gone to take a phone call and a blonde man had come up to her and injected something in her arm. The next thing she knows she is in the cage in front of a different man and he had brought her here.

Eventually, Angel drifts off to sleep but the three of them still say nothing. Waiting around in a tense silence.

They wait for night to fall and then keep waiting. They have no window or way to tell time but they are well accustomed to this. The dead of night is the only time they can believe they have any measure of safety.

So they wait and Peter listens. When the many heartbeats around them slow with sleep and the one guard they are fairly sure watches the cameras is clicking buttons on a phone game Peter gives a barely there nod to the others.

“It has to be now,” Johnny whispers angrily in Italian.

Peter’s mom had been of Italian descent and she had taught him the language as part of their bedtime ritual just as her mom had done with her. Peter, in turn, had taught the other two in the months after they made their plan. Whispered lessons late at night in the fearful hope that even if they were to be overheard they wouldn’t be understood.

“We can’t let them do that to her” agrees Violet.

He agrees but still Peter hesitates “They’ll be more on guard with that important man here” he cautions “We have to be careful”

“Careful” Johnny nearly spits “All we ever are is careful. We’ve waited and waited for the time to be right but you’re not going to get a perfect day Peter! They aren’t going to hand us an opportunity; we have to be the ones to make one. Sometimes you have to stop thinking and just act”

Peter freezes. Is Johnny right? Has he been putting this off just thinking things through, never willing to try? Had his caution actually been cowardice?

He looks to the two people who have spent the last year by his side. They had trusted him. Trusted his plan. They had made a pact and kept it. It was time to finally act.

“Yes”
“Yes”
“Yes”

They were going to escape tonight.

Chapter Text

March 12th, 2017 3:14 am

Saying they were going to escape and actually doing so were two very different things.

Peter began by slowly crawling to the front of his cell. He gripped the bar and prepared to start carefully spreading them. It was harder than he thought.

Not because he lacked the strength but because Peter had spent so long controlling it, suppressing it, telling himself he could never ever use it. Letting go of that mindset was proving harder than Peter thought but he’d done much harder things so slowly, carefully he began.

When the gap was wide enough he slipped through and took a moment to marvel at actually being out of his cell. Then, to his alarm, the heartbeat of the guard he’d been monitoring suddenly began to race.

“Motion sensor” hissed Violet pointing to the red light blinking near the floor on the wall. How had they missed that?

Abandoning stealth Peter rushed to the others cells. Ripping the doors off in seconds. He ran to Angel’s cage. The flimsy twisted wire practically disintegrated as he ripped the cage in two. He picked up Angel who had barely stirred and ran to hand her off to Violet.

The footsteps were nearly there. Only the one set but sounds from further on indicated he had sounded the alarm. The man rushed in heading straight for Peter taser and baton already raised but Johnny was quicker.

A jet of fire hit the man square in the face, immediately catching on his hair and clothes. The doctors really should have investigated those mysterious “electrical” fires that had messed up the cameras and lab equipment several months ago.

The man screamed and dropped his baton and taser both of which Peter was quick to scoop up. He then kicked at the man’s legs to topple him and the sound of several bones crunching told Peter he needed to control himself. Johnny sent one more spurt of flame to insure the man was done for and then it was time to run.

Peter led them from the room choosing turn after turn based solely on which were clear of people. Angel had woken frightened at the guard’s screaming but Violet was doing a good job keeping her calm and quiet as she carried her.

The problem was that for all their planning they didn’t actually know the way out. The complex they were in was large and sprawling, housing dozens of guards and doctors who rarely left. Peter was beginning to panic and his instincts weren’t helping him here.
Suddenly there were three guards in front of them. Johnny sent fire at the left two and Peter threw himself at the third. Ignoring the pain from the taser hitting him, Peter swung his own weapons and kicked out, not caring what kind of damage he did.

With the way clear again they kept running until Peter sensed a large group coming towards them and quickly grabbed the others to drag them into an empty lab. They listened with bated breaths as the people ran passed.

“We need a way out” he huffed “We could just be running around in circles”

“Better than hiding and waiting. At least we’re taking them out” smirked Johnny.

“Give me a second and watch the door,” Peter said. He knew if he tried and really listened to it his sixth-sense, or spider sense really, could tell him things he shouldn’t be able to know.

So he took some deep breaths and focused inwards trying to “see” his way out. And it was working, he could feel a pull, a gentle nudge of this way. Suddenly it blared an alarm at him at the same time Violet screamed out “NO!”

A guard had snuck up on Johnny by the door. Peter had looked up just in time to see the baton coming down to crack across Johnny’s head. But while it did come down and splinter into pieces it didn’t hit Johnny.

Instead it hit a curved wall of what appeared to be solid air interspersed with pulsing purple lights. Violet beside him lowered her outstretched hand and the wall vanished.

Johnny recovered from his shock and sent the largest shot of flame yet at the guy causing him to fly back against the wall with a sickening crunch.

In quiet shock Violet murmured “I-I think that was me.” staring down at her own hand.

Peter nodded. “Here give Angel to me” at her questioning look he explained. “Johny can attack while you defend and I’ll navigate us out of here.” Pulling Violet into a quick hug he whispered “You can do this Vi. I know it.”

The sound of shattering glass filled the air. They all looked up to see the lab they were in had caught fire and was apparently very flammable.

“Oh shit time to go” said Johnny and so they ran.

Three more times they had to stop and take down guards and doctors. The last guards had used actual guns and Violet had discovered her shields worked to stop bullets too.

Johnny had taken to sending a bout of flame into every lab they passed. Trusting Peter that they wouldn’t need to backtrack through the storm of fire he’d created.

At last they were nearing the exit but so were a large group of their pursuers. They sped up desperate to make it outside. Finally they saw the door out.

Large and imposing it was bolted shut but that meant little to Peter. Seamlessly he passed Angel back to Violet, hunching his shoulder forward he rushed the door with all his might and broke through.

They were out! Peter felt joy rush through him at the feeling of fresh air filling his lungs but he knew it wouldn’t last if he didn’t do something fast.

“Johnny! Burn it! Block them in!” he shouted pointing back to the entrance.

Johnny turned. Already the faces of the people after them could be seen running towards the door. With both hands Johnny set streams of flame back at them. Hotter and bigger the fires built.

The flames from Johnny’s hands also creeped back to engulf his whole body but he didn’t even flinch. More and more flames filled the doorway until metal glowed red hot and concrete began to crack and fall.

For a second Peter was sure he saw Johnny begin to lift off the ground before he suddenly fell to his knees panting and the flames around his body went out. Remarkably, his clothes were still perfectly fine.

Peter helped him back to his feet, slinging his arm around his shoulder to move them forward again. Violet came up to Johnny’s other side and as they took off into the night no sounds of pursuit followed them.

They had done it.

They were free.

Pursuit or no they didn’t dare stop. They raced forward into the woods before them. The towering trees seemed like benevolent guardians who promised to take them in and hide them in the darkness.

Fatigue meant nothing to them. Rocks and sticks digging into bare feet went completely ignored. After an hour of constant running, when the light of the fires behind them had long faded, they stumbled upon a clearing and took a moment to stop and catch their breath.

As Peter marveled once again at breathing in fresh open air he looked up to one of the most spectacular sights he had ever seen. The skies above them were clear and millions upon millions of stars shined down on them.

Living in a city, especially Gotham, it was easy to forget stars even existed. But Peter’s mom had absolutely loved stars. My Stellina. That’s what she’d called him. My little star.

One year, for mother’s day, he’d used his allowance money and helping with chores to convince Mrs. Beauchamp next door to buy him two tickets to the planetarium as a surprise.

His mom had been so thrilled. She’d bragged about it for weeks, including to Mrs. Beauchamp herself. The elderly lady had just acted surprised and given Peter a wink behind his mom’s back.

The joy in Mom’s eyes as she pointed out all her favorite stars to him, made it one of the best days in his life. After every one she would turn to him and tell him that he was her most favorite star of all.

The planetarium had been beautiful, and Peter will never forget that special day with her, but it was nothing compared to the sight above him now.

“They’re breathtaking” said Violet softly before turning to him with a sad smile. “They’re not supposed to be a bunch of different colors, are they?”

Peter wrapped his arm around her shoulder “I think a bunch of colors would be even prettier”

From her arms Angel seems to give a sleepy hum of agreement.

“Speaking of seeing things” Johnny says “I wasn’t hallucinating back there was I? I was definitely completely on fire. How am I not buck-naked right now?”

“No you really were on fire” Peter replies “I have no idea. I really don’t think they gave us fireproof clothes” referring to the paper thin grey cloth of the t-shirt and shorts they gave them whenever the old ones became too soiled.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out later but for now we should keep moving. That’s Polaris, the North star, which means we’ve been moving west” he points to the star sending out one more silent thank you to his mom for what he learned on that trip.

Johnny shrugs “Seems as good a direction as any”

So they keep moving.

On and on they walk. They carefully trade out who carries the sleeping Angel to make sure they don’t get tired but Peter isn’t sure it’s necessary. He doesn’t know if it’s his strength or something about her but she seems to weigh nothing at all.

At one point they come across a small stream and drink their fill. They decide to follow it south for a while to keep a source of water nearby but before long Peter starts to hear the buzz of electricity and his senses tell him they are headed toward people.

He doesn’t sense danger but none of them are willing to take chances. They quickly backtrack and Violet suggests walking in the stream for a while after remembering a movie she saw about someone doing that to escape tracking dogs. It’s not very likely the doctors will send dogs after them but the cool water feels nice on their aching feet.

They got lucky to have a half moon for light on the night of their escape but eventually it sets. This slows them considerably and after a short debate they decide to risk Johnny using the smallest flame he can sustain on the tip of his finger to light their way. It makes them all anxious to do this and they are relieved when soon after light begins peeking over the horizon.

The sun rises mostly at their back so they didn’t get turned around in the dark. Seeing blue sky again after so long is enough to bring tears to Peter’s eye. Still they don’t stop. They have to keep going.

It’s only as it starts creeping toward noon that they consider stopping. Like always their bodies let them know it’s time for food and Peter knows they need to do something soon.

If they miss this meal their bodies are going to give out on them before long but what can they do? The three of them have lived in the city their whole lives; they know nothing of foraging food in the wild.

Johnny tells them he once spent a week at a summer camp but a couple of guided hikes and archery lessons are of little help now.

They don’t know what’s safe to eat or how to make a shelter. They know enough to know they shouldn’t have drank water straight from a stream but it’s not like they had much choice.

From what Peter can remember of the doctor’s notes it’s early March now which means it’s too early for berries. It also means there will most likely be freezing temperatures overnight. Probably were last night but they wouldn’t have noticed.

Another small clearing comes into view and as one they slow to a stop. Peter bites his lip staring at the other’s as if they might miraculously have an idea.

“Look at that!” Angel gasps “Pretty birdy” smiling at the bright yellow bird that flits through the branches above them. “What’s its name?” she asks.

“Not sure, Angel,” says Peter.

“Hmm I’m gonna call it…Daisyfluff!”

“That sounds like a great name”

“Good. Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry”

Which brings Peter right back to the problem at hand. “Yeah me too Angel. Hey you see this clearing we’re in? We're gonna stay here and talk but I’ll let you down to go play for a bit as long as you promise to stay here. Ok?”

“OK! I promise. I’m gonna pick flowers!” With that the adorable little girl scurries off, wings fluttering behind her.

Silence descends again. Each of them too afraid to admit they don’t know what to do.

“Hey Peter? How far can you hear out here?” asks Violet.

“Not sure. Don’t really have a way to measure”

“But you listen for heartbeats right? Can you hear any animal heartbeats right now?”

Now Peter understands what she’s asking so he closes his eyes and concentrates.

The problem with Peter’s hearing is that he can hear way, way too much. It was overwhelming at first and he had to learn to ignore it. To teach himself how to not hear.

Now opening himself to all that noise makes him feel vulnerable. But if this works. If he is able to locate a source of food…

“There’s-there’s a lot of heartbeats all around. I can’t tell what they are though.”

“What about a big cluster of fast heartbeats low to the ground?”

Peter opens his eyes, surprised. Violet, it seems, had given this some thought. She looks to the ground avoiding his eyes.

“Those would probably be rabbits. A deer would be too big for us to eat right now and-and we should avoid birds, if we can, but rabbits would give us furs too that we could tie on our feet.”

Wow so a lot of thought.

“That’s a great idea Vi” exclaims Johnny with a grin “Go on Peter find us some wabbits”

So Peter closes his eyes again. Listening even closer.

“Yeah, yeah I think I found some. I think they’re several minutes that way”

“Well let's get going then” Johnny says excitedly

“Ummm Johnny? Y-you should stay here.” interjects Violet “Someone has to stay with Angel, and you can see about setting up some way to cook them, and maybe some shelter so we can rest, and…” she trails off before starting again “And if Peter and I go I can use my shield thing to trap the rabbits in one place so we can..get them.”

“Yeah. You’re right Vi. That’s an awesome plan” says Johnny. Softening and sending her an encouraging smile.

For several long moments none of them move. Nobody likes the idea of separating, not at all. Eventually Johnny forces a big grin and turns to walk away.

“Hey Angel. Found any pretty flowers for me yet?”

Yeah! Lots and lots. Look! What’s its name?”

“Uhhh I think those are called tulips”

“Pretty!”

Peter and Violet share a smile and then set off to find food.

Chapter Text

March 12th 2017, 11:23 am

As Peter and Violet set off in the direction of the rabbits they tried to come with a plan of approach.

“I think the trees are our best bet” claimed Peter “There’s too many noisy leaves on the ground. If you get on my back and I use my stickiness to go across the branches we should be good”

“What about smell? Are rabbits able to smell good?” asked Violet.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel any wind. Maybe if we’re high enough it won’t matter?”

“K, just be careful”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let us fall. Here, let me practice sticking and moving on the trees before we get too close”

Peter walked over to the largest nearby trunk. He placed his hands on it and stuck. Then slowly one at a time. He lifted each foot off the ground and placed it on the side of the tree. Success.

Now to climb. He started out hesitant but before he knew it he was climbing easily. This was easier than walking! And it felt so good to be off the ground. Higher and higher he went crossing over to the next tree when he got the chance.

His senses steered him clear of any weak branches and he circled Violet, far below him. He never wanted to walk on the ground again! But he had a job to do so he climbed back down to her. An enormous grin on his face.

“I take it we can climb there.” she says with a smile.

“Yep. This is awesome. Come on, get on my back, I’ll show you.”

Violet clings to him with her arms and legs and doesn’t seem to enjoy it as much as Peter. But she says nothing as they make their way to the rabbits.

They are very high up in the trees when they arrive. Below them are seven rabbits munching on a patch of clover. They’re not as big as Peter might have hoped but he’s never seen a rabbit in person before and isn’t really sure how big they’re supposed to be. At least there’s a bunch of them.

Over his shoulder Violet raises her hand and…nothing happens. For several long minutes there is nothing but their soft breathing and the heartbeats below.

“I-I’m sorry. I thought-I thought I could” she whispers in Italian out of habit but quieter than ever since he has no issue hearing her and their prey might.

“It’s alright. Take your time” Peter wonders if she’s having a hard time thinking of killing the animals. He’ll be the one doing it but she’ll have to be there.

“It's not- I think we’re too far away”

Hmm Peter hadn’t thought of that. Whenever she’d used it before it had been right in front of them.

“Ok I’ll go lower. No more talking”

Peter slowly makes his way down. Lifting one limb at a time, he makes sure he is completely secure and soundless with each step. When his senses warn him to stop he does and then he waits.

Nearly 10 minutes pass as he listens to the rapid heartbeats below. The wet sound of it makes his mouth water and tingle and he prays his stomach doesn’t rumble.

He begins to wonder if they’ll have to abandon this plan. If he jumped down he could catch two maybe even three before they scatter but they need more than that and he’s not sure how far they would have to go to find them.

Then there is a shimmer in the air and a dome of purple lights surrounds the rabbits. He almost lets out a breath in relief but catches it. The rabbits don’t seem to have noticed the trap yet and he still needs to get in.

With her other hand Violet reaches up to grab the branch above and, soft as breath, she says “Jump”. As she lets go with her legs Peter jumps down towards the shield. It flashes briefly and when it comes back Peter is inside with a bunch of frightened rabbits.

He kills all seven. Quick and painless. When he looks back he sees that Violet has also jumped down from the tree but outside the shield.

“We did it,” she beams, her voice slightly distorted by the shield before it disappears. “Sorry it took so long. I don’t know what was going on. At first it was because we were too far away and then it was like, I don’t know, like the air wasn’t ready. That’s not quite right but I don’t know…”

“Hey it’s ok. We got there in the end and we’re still learning. You’ll figure it out.”

“You’re right. We-we can do what we want now. We have time.” her voice tinged with awe.

Peter smiles and they gather up their haul to go back to the clearing.

All the way back he can hear Johnny and Angel playing some kind of finding game. Halfway there he has a thought and comes to a stop looking over at Violet.

“We should remove the heads before we get there,” he states “They won’t be much use and she’ll be less likely to realize what they are that way.”

Violet agrees and they get to work. It’s a bloodier job than they first realized it would be. Peter offers to do them himself but Violet insists on doing her half. They have no way to clean their hands afterwards but rubbing them in the dirt at least makes them brown instead of red. He promises to listen for water as soon as they get back.

Walking back into the clearing feels like a triumph, punctuated by Angel’s shout of “Look, I got one!”

“Good job. That’s a really good one” Johnny turns to the others, a large bundle of sticks under his arm, and doesn’t even blink at the disheveled state of them. “We’re seeing who can find the prettiest and sharpest rocks ‘round here”

“I got a good one. See!” Angel holds up a white rock with a ragged thin edge. “What’s that?” she asks, pointing to their haul.

“Something to eat but we have to wash up and cook it first” Violet tells her.

Peter closes his eyes and begins his search for water. Eventually he locates some. It’s quite a ways north of them but they desperately need it.

“Time to go, Angel”

“Up?” she asks Johnny with pleading brown eyes, hands raised high.

“Ok but you gotta hold tight to those rocks of yours for me, Alright?”

She nods and Peter and Violet move to pick up more of the piles of sticks Johnny made, leaving the large branches probably meant for a shelter.

The walk to the creek is pleasant. Angel is delighted with every bird she spots. They stop trying to guess what kind they are for her and all agree that “Rosyfluff” and “Bluebaby” are better names anyway.

When they reach the creek they find a fallen tree on its banks. The pulled up root ball has left a shaded sandy depression that the creek is currently too low to fill.

Violet takes Angel to play and clean up in the water while the boys get to work. Pulling over some wide flat river rocks they start on the rabbits. The white rock shatters immediately but others work well enough.

They remove the skin off the back and chop off the paws. Johnny takes the meat and starts tossing away the bones and intestines while Peter takes the skins.

It’s tough, the viscera clinging to the skin doesn’t want to come off, but Peter is strong and stubborn and he manages to clean it without putting too many holes through the skin. He takes the furs farther downstream to wash the blood off and then puts them on a flat sunny rock to dry.

Johnny had the meat cooking on a campfire now, helped along by the fire in his hand above it. When the girls come back they all fall on the meal ravenously. Even Angel eats her portion without complaint despite how gamey it is.

Her braids had to come out, at last. She’d asked Violet to redo them but only having fingers to comb wet, knotted hair had proved painful. Violet had promised to try again when their hair was dry, keeping the little hair bands on her finger.

After the boys washed up it was time to, finally, get some rest.

They lay in their usual order. Peter on the right, Johnny on the left, with Violet in the middle. Only it was different now.

They’d never really been able to hold each other before, cold metal bars in the way. And Peter and Johnny had never been close enough to reach each other. Now, as they curled up together in the shade of the root ball, it felt so right, so safe. Johnny’s body seemed to radiate heat and Angel laid face down on Violet’s stomach, spreading her wings across the boys like a delicate blanket.

They fell asleep.

Chapter Text

March 13th 2017, 7:31 pm

Peter woke to his spider sense warning him of danger.

He instantly froze. Had the doctors found them? Panic began to creep in but both his ears and his spider sense were telling him it was an animal. A predator maybe? The warning of danger was fading. The animal turning and padding away.

Still Peter waited till it had gone beyond the reach of his hearing to let out the breath he’d been holding. He then started carefully extracting himself from the sleep pile to go relieve himself.

Violet and Johnny both still awoke immediately but he waved them away as the danger was gone. It was dark now but only barely, the last dregs of twilight still holding on.

The moon had risen already and it was a bit smaller than the night before. They’d be slowly getting less light then. Peter couldn’t remember if that was waxing or waning.

On his way back he noticed something had come and ate the intestines Johnny had thrown away earlier. They’d have to be more careful of that in the future.

Johnny and Violet were both up and ready when he returned. They all wanted to keep moving. He wasn’t sure when they’d feel safe that they’d gone far enough, if they ever would, but one day’s walk was definitely not.

The furs were still a bit damp which was unpleasant and Johnny volunteered his shirt to be ripped into ribbons to tie them to their feet. Peter carried Angel and they started back west, trying their luck again on following a water source.

Their luck ran out around mid-morning. They had stopped earlier to rest for the short time they had no light. Without constantly moving the cold had begun to seep in but Johnny had gathered them close to his sides.

Even with less clothes he still let off a lot of heat and wasn’t uncomfortable at all. He took special care to keep Peter close to his side. The doctors had discovered early after the spider bite that Peter didn’t do well with the cold.

When they’d resumed walking it was clear the creek was getting drier as they went. At last they saw, between gaps in the trees, that it headed through the rows of a farm field. On the far end of the field was a barn. Or maybe a shed of some sort? It wasn’t red.

But Peter had heard no signs of people or electricity and his spider sense was silent. He stood there, straining his hearing until it nearly hurt but could find no signs of people.

“It's empty” he tells the others.

“It might not stay that way” cautions Violet.

“I know but we need supplies” Peter gestures to the fraying clothes they wore. “We’ll be careful but anything would be helpful at this point.”

They skirt the edges of the field, never leaving the cover of the trees. One last check for any signs of people, and the lock on the shed door easily gives way.

Inside they find an old pick-up truck that rests on four cinder blocks instead of tires and a much newer looking tractor. Both have green license plates with “Vermont, Green Mountain State”

“Huh, guess we finally figured out where we are. Sorta.” says Johnny.

Looking around the shed they find a tool box with a large selection of wrenches, a couple hammers, and not much else. Hanging on the wall is a big curved blade that is so rusted there are holes in it. Not particularly helpful.

It’s in the glove box of the truck that they strike gold. A sizable knife with a good sharp edge. It’s got a sheath attached to a belt as well. While the leather belt is much too long for any of them that can be easily fixed.

The glove box also has a map which they grab just in case. In the bed of the truck is a scrunched up blue tarp. Shaking it out revealed it to be filthy and ripped in several places but there is enough left to be usable once they cut the excess off.

Even better, shaking out the tarp reveals several empty plastic water bottles that they are quick to scoop up. They roll the tarp down to stuff inside a toolbag they emptied of even more wrenches and then they are gone. Slipping out and heading south this time to avoid the winding dirt road they could see leading off the farm.

Once they are far enough to feel safe again they pause to examine their spoils. Peter picked up the leather belt.

“Hey Vi. Come let me measure this around your waist”

“Me?”

“Yeah” he says as he wraps it around her “You should have a way to attack too. Just in case”

It’s almost time to start hunting for food again. Actually, they should probably be getting Angel more than one meal a day, come to think of it. However, Peter would feel better if they found water first this time and got to fill up their new bottles.

It’s over an hour before they finally find a new stream and then Violet and Peter’s hunt goes much the same as before. The knife is immensely helpful in breaking down the rabbits and as they settle back down to sleep Peter can’t help but wonder what else could be helping them along.

He looks down at the insides of his wrists and thinks about his conversation with Violet. They can do what they want to now. They can explore the things they are able to do. They don’t have to hide it. He brushes his fingers over the tiny openings in his wrists and decides that tomorrow, as they walk, he’s going to finally figure out what these are capable of.

-

March 14th 2017 8:05 pm

For the second time in a row his spider sense wakes him with the alert of a dangerous animal nearby. Which is concerning considering they made sure to bury the left over bits far from them. Whatever predator it is leaves soon after he wakes but Peter does not like being so exposed and vulnerable while sleeping.

He shares his concern with the others as they start walking but they have no answer either. It’s not like they can build a structure, sturdy enough to protect them, that they could take with them.

As they walk Peter examines his wrists again. Feeling around the area, like he’d never dared before, he can feel two roundish objects sitting between the bones of each arm just below the hole.

Pushing down on them hurts but doesn’t do much else. He goes back up to the opening and presses. Again pain, but as he pulls away he feels something else. It’s not painful but it’s extremely uncomfortable. It feels like something is being pulled out of him. Like the pull of thread through stitches but without the pain.

He looks to his hand to see what does indeed look like silvery white thread attached to his finger from his wrists. He pulls his hand back in shock and the thread snaps off. Did that come from inside of him?!?

“You alright there Pete?” Johnny asks, looking back to where Peter had stopped walking.

“Yeah, I-yeah”

“Right” says Johnny unconvinced.

“I-Let me try that again” He puts his finger against the hole again and again he feels the odd pulling sensation through it. “I think there’s thread coming out of my arm”

“Well it looks like it’s your turn to not be hallucinating cause, yeah, that sure looks like thread.”

“Spider webs. I have spider webs now.”

“Can I touch it?” asks Violet, stepping closer.

“Sure”

Despite looking thin the thread doesn’t break under Violet’s touch. She applies a bit more pressure and more begins to pull out from his wrists but Peter still doesn’t like the feeling and the thread snaps off. Violet fingers the thread still hanging from his hand. It’s much larger than regular sewing thread and way larger than spider silk.

“It’s not sticky” Violet comments “I thought spider webs were sticky”

“Hmmm, I wonder..” Peter looks to the glands just below. The two glands on each wrist. He focuses for a bit and there is a slight pulling sensation. Like a muscle he’s never used before and he already knows what will happen when he reaches down for another thread. Sure enough this one glistens in the moonlight as if wet.

When Violet touches this one she immediately sticks to it. In fact, she sticks a bit too well. She can’t pull her finger off and even after Peter releases it, both from his wrist and hand, it remains solidly stuck to her.

Pulling on it does nothing but pull Violet towards him. Even as thin as it is, it's strong stuff. Finally, Johnny walks over with a sigh, shifting Angel in his arms, and with a quick touch of his finger the thread is ash.

“Well this has been fun. Come on, let's keep going. You can play with your silly string as we walk”

And that’s exactly what Peter does. He practices pulling the webs out, making himself get used to the feeling. He switches back and forth between the glands until the muscle no longer feels new.

He sticks several more pieces to Violet to figure out what might work to get it off her. It only sticks to him when he sticks intentionally but nothing seems to work to remove them from her except Johnny coming over to burn them off again.

They leave a couple on to see how long they stay. They can’t tell the time exactly but after a couple hours the sticky ones dissolve completely. The non-sticky ones, or rather the ones that are only sticky on the ends, do not dissolve or come off so Violet loops it around her own wrist and ties it off to continue watching it.

Peter wishes he had some way of making the webs shoot forward rather than having to grab and pull, that would be really useful. But flexing his wrist forward only gives him a couple inches of web. It’s enough to let him grab it with his hand at least.

When the moon sets and they stop to rest again Peter decides to try the strength of the webs by sticking them to a tree. He already discovered earlier that he could break a thread in half but Violet and Johnny couldn’t.

Sticking a web to a tree and pulling results in him falling over with a chunk of bark at the end of a string and loud enough laughter from the other two to wake Angel.

“Wha’ a’ doin’?” she murmurs sleepily from Johnny’s arms.

“Being dumb” he replies

“Hm?”

“Nothing. Go on back to sleep” Peter says, dusting himself off.

She pouts. Unhappy at being put off.

“I just fell cause I was pulling on my web” he explains

“You make web?” she looks around for a full spider’s web.

Johnny laughs again “Not just yet. Maybe he’ll make you one in the morning, ok?”

“Ok” she begins drifting off again.

That actually gives him an idea. He jumps up and starts climbing the tree to the two sturdy branches he’d seen. Starting on one he attached a web from his left wrist and used his right hand to guide it as he leapt to the other branch to attach the other end. Again and again between the two letting his instincts guide him.

As the sun starts to rise, he looks down at the net of webbing he’s created and steps out onto it. It holds his weight easily. Even jumping on it only sways the branches. He looks down at Violet and Johnny, still staring up at him, and laughs at their bewildered faces.

He can’t help trying one more thing. He attaches a web from each wrist and grabs it with his hands without snapping it off yet. Then he jumps from the tree. Rather falling he drifts down gently, feeding webs through his hands to lower him down. When he lands on the ground he can’t help laughing again, exhilarated.

“Have fun, did ya?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah, he gets like that.” Violet says before he can answer. Peter pretends to be offended for a second but he’s too happy to keep it up.

“I think I just solved our sleeping problem” he explained “being high up off the ground will be a lot less vulnerable”

“That’s a great idea Peter” says Violet “but, huh, it’s almost time to go and I don’t think we should leave that behind” looking back up at the large web.

“Right. Got it”

He tries to remove it carefully so he can try putting it back up later but the different threads soon start crossing till he’s left with a ball of tangled mess. Which he hops back down with.

“Give it here” sighs Johnny. Burning it all once again “And you're sure you’ll be able to keep making those every day?”

“Yeah, of course”

Though now that he’s thinking about it he is beginning to feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe Angel’s not the only one who should be eating more than once a day.

Chapter Text

March 15th 2017, 11:17 am

When they stop to hunt again Peter makes sure to find them a big group of rabbits this time. He also manages to spot a larger furry brown animal scurrying along the ground which they catch too. Peter's pretty sure it’s a groundhog. After the meal Angel turns to Peter with a winsome smile.

"Peter make webs?"

"Sure thing Angel"

Peter pulls the webbing between his fingers and concentrates. He's a bit clumsy and slower, ignoring the way his instincts are urging him to weave, but when he's done he spreads his hands to show off the only slightly wonky web with a series of smaller to larger stars in the center.

Angel claps, delighted, and reaches for the web. Peter hands it off to her but as expected in seconds it's nothing but a tangled knot.

"Awww"

"That's ok Angel. I'll make another later that we can put up somewhere safe to look at."

"Ok. Howcome you not make one before?"

"I didn't know I could make webs before"

"You didn't know?"

"Nope. I'm still learning"

"Oh! Like how I'm still learning how to fly. Daddy like to help me. He throws me up soooo high and I fly before he catches me. Will you help me fly?"

"Of course we will"

"Yeah, you and I can learn to fly together, Angel" says Johnny. Angel is excited but Peter is confused.

"What?"

"Yeah. I felt it. I'm sure. Back when I was burning the, er, door and I was covered in flames. I'm sure l felt myself start to lift up."

Peter does remember thinking he saw something like that and Violet is nodding so she must have seen it too. Could Johnny really fly then? How cool.

"We both learn to fly Johnny?" asks Angel.

"Yep"

Angel looks thoughtful for a moment before asking "Peter throw you?"

"What?!?" cries Johnny as the other two burst into laughter.

"Why would Peter throw me?"

"Peter's strong. Like superman. He throws you like Daddy"

Peter and Violet are rolling on the ground laughing now as Johnny tries to explain why that won't be happening. When they pull themselves together Violet has a red line down her left cheek from the tear that escaped her which she is quick to cover with her hair again.

"We'll let you both practice later" says Peter "For now it's time to sleep."

"But I'm not sleepy", complains Angel.

"But don't you wanna go up in the tree in the cool web Peter's gonna make us" coaxes Johnny

"You are? Cool!"

"Yep. Why don't you play tag with Johnny and Violet while I find us a tree to sleep in?"

"Yeah!"

As the other two take turns wearing out Angel, Peter finds a tree with nice sturdy wide branches and begins to weave. He has to take a short break halfway through but he finishes with a nice big net and calls for the others. Angel is thrilled with the "treeweb" and Peter ties a strand around her waist, just in case.

Any flight plans are put on hold when they are woken by large drops of water landing on them. They quickly unroll the tarp to drape over an upper branch and Peter sticks down the corners.

As they sit safe in their nest and are soothed by the mesmerizing sights and sounds of falling rain they decide maybe it would be ok to spend a night in one place.

Maybe they really did get away.

The rain lets up the next morning and after lowering the others down Peter packs up his web and hands it off to Johnny to burn.

But he doesn't.

Johnny just stands there looking at the ball of webbing in his hand.

"Uh Johnny? There a reason you're not burning that?" Peter asks.

"I can't"

"What?"

"I'm trying to it's not burning"

Now that Peter looks he can see the flames licking around the back of Johnny's hand and the very ends of the web seem to be reluctantly smoldering but it won't catch. For several moments they all just stare in confusion. Then it hits Peter.

"It's you " he says to Johnny.

"What's that supposed to mean" he asks.

"Don't you see? Just like how your clothes didn't burn. It's because you were in contact with them for a long time. You must have something on your skin that keeps you from burning and when you touch something a lot it gets on that too and now it won't burn either.

Or maybe it's not just touch cause you didn't touch the whole web. Maybe it's like with Violet where the air has to be ready. We have to wait for her to be in one place long enough to place her shields away from her but she's able to put them near her right away.

Maybe it's like that with you too. You can keep yourself from burning and if you stay in one place you'll spread that to things around you." Peter is getting excited now. There are so many possibilities.

"So what? You think this whole tree is fireproof just cause I slept in it?"

"I mean, maybe? You should try it out. With the rain even if you do set it on fire it shouldn't spread."

So Johnny lights up his hands and moves to the tree. Sure enough the bark refuses to catch even after the heat has dried the bark. Peter pulls the bark off to see how deep it goes. Further in the wood does begin to burn but begrudgingly.

"This is great! You not only burn, you make things fireproof. Here give me your arms" says Peter grabbing Johnny's arms and attaching strands of webbing. On one arm he attaches several sticky webs and loops them each around his arm at different intervals. On the other he attaches non-sticky webs of increasing lengths at the same intervals.

"And what exactly are you doing?" Johnny asks. Looking both exasperated and amused.

"Practicing. Look. With the ones looped on your arm you can try to burn one every 10 mins or so to see how long it takes until they won't burn. Then you can switch to the other arm and see how long it takes to spread to something not touching you. See?"

Now both Johnny and Violet look assumed at how excited he is but he can't help it. It's awesome to get to tes-

No

Never that. They are practicing. Never testing. They get to explore what they can do all on their own and it never has to hurt.

"Alright. It's not as cool as flying but I'll practice this too, little nerd"

"Hey, I'm not that much shorter than you."

They bury the web instead and as they walk and Johnny practices. It only takes to the third sticky web for it to stop burning easily but increasingly higher heat still gets the next three before it stops working.

He moves on to the other arm. It's more difficult than Peter thought it would be to keep track of how fast it spreads down the webs but at least they confirmed he was spreading his fireproofing out from his body.

After they stop to eat Peter suggests that they adjust their schedule to two meals a day. They are getting quite quick and efficient about it and so should be able to fit in two hunts and walking during the day if they sleep at night.

They're losing the moonlight anyway and the rain has brought a drop in temperature that makes Peter anxious for tonight. It's agreed and that night for the first time ever they switch up the sleeping order. Johnny sleeps in the middle with the others curled around him to fend off the freezing cold.

—
March 28th 2017, 4:37pm

They had come to a crossroads. Of a sort.

Several days ago they had been rather forced to come to a stop. The creek they had been following had led them in a south/southwest direction but now they had started running into more and more houses and farms and it was becoming clear a town was coming up.

Heading directly south had ended with them running into a major road running east/west. The traffic was steady enough to make them nervous about being spotted and they didn't know what lay beyond.

They could backtrack north to get around the town to continue west but they would lose the water. None of them were willing to go east. For now they had spent several days just sitting not making a decision. It was actually pretty nice.

Being far away enough from people, the camp they had set up for themselves felt pretty safe and all theirs. Peter had made an even larger web up in a nice tree and they had used some leaves and extra rabbit furs to make tiny pillows.

They had also cleared a space to dig out a hopscotch and other games for them to play with Angel. Several trees were now decorated with different shaped webs, per her requests. Even with hunting more it was a bit surprising just how much extra time they had to do whatever they wanted.

All of them had spent time practicing what they could do. Webs, shields, and fireproofing. They kept their promise to Angel and tossed her in the air to help her learn to fly. It was a lot of fun watching her little wings flap furiously as the gold colored tips caught the sunlight. She seemed to tire of it quickly though.

Afterwards Violet would set her down to brush out the tangles in Angel’s air with the comb they had whittled. Redoing the loose braids Violet was slowly getting better at.

Johnny's flying lessons had gone less well. Getting his fire big and bright enough to start lifting him was risky especially now that they were close to people.

The first evening they had stopped here they had taken the chance in the evening to catch their first deer. It had been a welcome relief from rabbit. Peter was hopeful they would soon start seeing berries to break up their diet but he had long lost track of the date.

The skin of the deer plus his webs had been made into a shirt for Peter while Johnny took his old one. The problem was that all of their remaining clothes were falling apart no matter how much web stitching Peter added. The strand of webbing around Violet’s wrist was still going strong so he knew the webbing would last.

Which was why he was working on his newest project. Cloth was made of lots of thread and Peter has thread. Lots of it. So he was going to make them new clothes. No matter how frustrating and complicated it was proving to be.

"Alright Petey. Time for a break" says Johnny dragging Peter from his hunched over seat. "You promised to take me hunting this time anyway"

"Oh alright" sighs Peter putting his latest attempt away. "Hey Violet, Angel we'll be back in a bit"

"Have fun" says Violet from where she is walking around the edges of their camp to practice lowering the time to use her shields in a new area. Angel is napping in the middle of camp.

Johnny isn't as good at moving silently so they have to go farther for the hunt but they are finally in a good position to get another deer.

Suddenly Peter's spider sense gives a twinge. A warning of danger. A quick glance around reveals nothing there but the feeling of danger gets stronger. Concentrating Peter feels a sense of immediate danger but...not here?

A blood-curdling scream of "Angel!" makes horrifying sense of the warning. Both boys abandon the hunt, racing back to camp hearts pounding.

Bursting back into camp reveals Violet curled around a sobbing Angel reassuring her.

"You're ok Angel. Everything's ok now baby"

Behind the girls is a large brownish bear with the knife buried in its neck.

Ignoring the bear, both rush forward to check the girls over. They seem unhurt and Violet reassures them through gasping breaths that they are ok. But Angel continues to cry.

"It's ok Angel. It's ok. It didn't get me. You're not hurt and it didn't get me"

Eventually Angel cries herself to sleep in Violet's arms.

"It was going for Angel." She explains. "It came from the other side of the camp and was going for her. I got a shield around her in time but then it came after me. I-I don't think I can do more than one shield at a time. I haven't been able to in practice and I couldn't let it get to Angel.

It swiped at me but-but it was like its paw went right through me. Like I was just made of air. I tried to grab the knife from where I left it but I couldn't even touch it. Like I was a ghost. Then the bear turned away and I was back and could grab it again."

"So you can make yourself disappear?" asks Johnny

"Something like that" She replies looking down to avoid their gaze "It's the eye. Remember I told you about it tingling? It was doing that more. Like pulses of static through my body. I-I'll show you"

She carefully hands off Angel and stands. Before their astonished eyes she slowly begins to fade. Sunlight and Johnny's hand pass right through her fading form until she finally disappears entirely.

"Vi?" Both boys cry in alarm and then she's back. Right where she had been.

"Tha-that's really cool Vi but let's wait and practice that one later ok?" Peter asks, still shaken.

The safety of their little camp has been shattered but they can't afford to leave the bear behind. They spend the evening breaking it down and cooking as much as they can eat and carry in the tool bag. The skin is wrapped in the tarp and carried to deal with later. And then they are off into the night again.

They go north.

Chapter Text

April 1st 2017, 2:30 pm

Oliver Queen was contemplating just how hard it might be to get some kryptonite.

Surely if villains were always getting their hands on it it couldn't be too terribly expensive. On the other hand, said villain was usually Lex Luthor and Oliver wasn't quite that wealthy. Either way he had a burning need to punch Superman in the face.

The JL responds to a large range of threats, from supervillains, to aliens, to evil masterminds. More goes into combating these threats than just the fights on tv. After all "prevention is nine tenths of the law" or however that phrase goes. So they investigated strange occurrences, built space defenses, and kept an eye on science and tech companies. It was a science company that was the issue this time.

Clark in particular was strict about making sure they checked out any companies claiming to work in genetics and given the history there who could blame him. This particular case had been so minor though that Clark had handed it off to Oliver to look into.

A tiny firm, out in Ohio of all places, that was said to be developing gene therapy, was reporting less product output then the company seemed capable of sustaining. They'd suspected nothing worse than tax fraud. But Oliver had gone out anyway cause Clark is a hard man to say no to.

He'd made a mistake that day. One of the ones that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He'd gone in so casual. So convinced that this was a waste of time. The admin and lab manager he'd met with had seemed so easygoing and friendly.

He hadn't suspected for a moment that while he was chatting it up upstairs the scientists below were frantically destroying all the data in the building. Unfortunately part of the "data" was the 14 people being held prisoner there.

While he'd been causally scrolling on a carefully scrubbed computer, 14 people were being euthanized and incinerated beneath his feet. He'd almost walked out without even noticing. Only an unfortunate familiarity with the smell of burned flesh and one of those murders' poor timing clued him in.

It had taken weeks to identify all the remains. The bastards had been grabbing homeless people from New York and Chicago. Far too many of them had never even been reported missing and none of the arrested scientists would say anything.

Rummaging through the hastily destroyed data had identified another lab that was secretly connected to the first. This time he knew better and went in with a JL team guns blazing. No one had time to destroy a single file before they were rounded up. There were thankfully no prisoners in this lab but the data these people were working on was more than enough to convict the scientists.

The data also revealed a vast network of interconnected companies, private labs, and secret sites. What had started out as a minor check into a small lab had mutated into a huge lead into a large underground network of unethical human experimentation. Lab after lab had been hit and dozens more people had been found.

Each lab they hit had more and more data for them to sift through to try and uncover more connected places but the terabytes of data were a mountain to try and work through.

Of course he could have passed the case on. This had gone far beyond what had been expected and needed more members. He could have asked someone more senior to come on to lead the team.

But then he'd have to hear all the mutterings that don't really say he's not a real superhero but kinda do. Or even worse the jokes about "performance issues"(Barry). Bruce might even get in on the teasing considering the pace the man has been flying through cases (though Bruce has his own reasons for working himself to death lately...)

Besides which these guys had really pissed Oliver off. So he'd kept the case and was going to run each and every one of these evil fuckers down.

The latest info they'd spotted was from an email chain between two employees. They'd been talking about a secret testing site and how "cool" it was but Oliver and his team had found no records of a site there. Questioning of the two employees had eventually revealed that they had gotten info on a very top secret site they should not have had any knowledge of and had been discussing it....over work emails.

The problem was that even after extensive searching they could find no other reference to the site. Which means this is either a very elaborate hoax...or a black site.

Which is what brings him to bum-fuck nowhere Vermont contemplating buying kryptonite so he can sock Superman in his perfect jaw when he gets back from his off world mission.

Despite the Robin Hood getup Oliver has never been big on the whole “communing with nature” thing. Yet here he is marching through the woods hoping the coordinates they were given are actually correct and they manage to find this place.

At least Dinah is here with him. That’s always nice. Question is also here which is less nice. He’s been on the team going through the data and found this lead but Oliver had always found him kinda off putting. It was the blank face that did it honestly.

A shake of his head to brush off such thoughts (and whatever creepy crawly had just landed in his hair) ended up being exactly what he needed to spot a glint of metal in his peripheral vision.

“Hey take a look at this guys” he says walking over to the handwheel of the bulkhead door leading into the side of a hill.

The thing is disguised well. Tucked into what seems like a natural divot in a small hill and there’s no disturbed ground to indicate a lot of traffic. Still there’s a very good chance they’ve found what they’re looking for.

“Be ready for anything he says” before applying all his weight to spin the stiff wheel. The moment the door cracks open a cloud of gray, carrying the distressingly familiar scent of burned flesh, escapes.

Cough. “Well we definitely found it” says Dinah covering her mouth and nose. When the door swings open she gasps. “Well that would explain it.” Looking at the 6 or more burned corpses right inside the entrance.

“Alive” states Question.

“Umm no they are very dead, man” Oliver states.

“No. They were burned alive” Question states again. Pointing to the inside of the door. There’s no handle on that side, just what would be a perfectly flat surface if not for the long scratches on its surface that were obviously made from fingernails.

“Right” says Oliver shuddering “Lets keep going”

Down into the earth they travel finding burned body after burned body and remains of incinerated labs. Some of the bodies have weapons on them and others the remains of lab coats. It’s becoming obvious that whatever happened here was much more than just destroying data to avoid being caught.

Then they reach the room with the cells. Five barred cells line the back wall and two of them are busted wide open.

“The prisoners escaped,” he says. Astonished and hopeful for the first time since stepping in here.

“These cells were pulled open from the outside” corrects Question “This was a rescue.”

“Which means the fire was probably intentional” adds Dinah looking at the charred body in the middle of the room with a gun still in its holster. “They took them by surprise”

“We should keep looking,” Oliver says “There has to be another exit somewhere that can be opened from the inside.”

Question tilts his head in that creepy way of his but says nothing and they continue their search.

Eventually they stumble upon a room that is only half burned rather than fully decimated and the scraps of remaining files promise some answers so they start investigating.

“Oh God” Dinah says looking like she might be sick.

“What’s wrong?” Oliver asks.

“Subject 35, Caucasian Male, Age 9” she reads out.

Oh God. They were keeping kids here. He might be sick too. How does this case just keep getting worse? He’s definitely punching Clark.

“Anything else?” he forces himself to ask.

“Nothing useful” she replies “Some chemistry stuff I can’t make sense of and possibly some shorthand but nothing to help identify the kid. Looks like just the results of these sickos’ experiment on him.”

Continuing to search results in Oliver finding the next one. Subject 37, Causasian Male, Age 8. But inside this one there is a picture. The focus of the picture is whatever the scientists are doing to the boy’s shoulder but all Oliver can see is the sad and hopeless tearfilled brown eyes staring sightlessly upwards. What kind of monsters were these people to do this to a little kid.

“You got something Arrow?” Dinah asks. Oliver nods but can’t rip his eyes away from the picture so Dinah comes over to look over his shoulder.

She gasps and immediately reaches for her phone, nearly dropping it in her urgency to dial a number.

“What is it?” he asks.

She doesn’t answer just waiting as the phone rings out. Only to call again. Honestly, Oliver is amazed she has a signal at all. When the call rings out again she switches to coms.

“Maxwell, is Batman in the tower?... Put him through immediately.”

Bruce? Why would she need him?

“Batman. It’s Canary. You need to contact Nightwing and get to our location ASAP. We’ve got a lead on Peter.”

Peter?!?

Of course. How had he missed that? The entire hero community had heard about Peter. Dick’s son that had been lost before he even got to meet him.

Heroes had come out of the woodwork to try and find him last year. Not only was it one of their own that had lost a child but it was Dick Grayson. The original Boy Wonder and then Nightwing. A staple of the hero community since nearly the beginning. Everyone had wanted to help, Oliver included.

As if that weren’t enough there was also the fact that Bruce had actually reached out for aid. Batman himself. Between those two there wasn’t a single hero out there that didn’t owe one or both of them a favor. Despite the turn out though it had seemed a futile effort with no one finding any sign of Peter.

Until now.

Now in the burnt out husk of one of the worst evil scientists’ networks Oliver had ever seen there were finally clues to what happened to the poor boy. Oliver just really hoped further searching of this compound wouldn’t reveal the boy’s body.

And he was definitely still buying that kryptonite.

Chapter Text

April 1st 2017, 6:35 pm

For this first time in over a year Dick felt hope.

It had been a hard year for him and hope was something he had almost resigned himself to never feeling again. There had been some, right after Peter had been taken, heroes all over the world had come out to offer leads but each and every one of them had come to nothing. But now, as he raced through the woods from the helicopter to the coordinates Bruce had sent him he felt so much hope rising in him he thought he might choke on it.

He was, distantly, aware that it was, in fact, April first but only the Joker would play a prank like this and find it funny. (Or the universe itself but Dick really thought he deserved a break at this point) Besides this was coming from Dinah, as a friend of the family she knew just how important this was to Dick and would never be so cruel.

She is there to meet him when he arrives. The scorched earth and blackened trees that surrounded a caved in entrance that had only just been cleared told a story Dick didn’t feel ready to know but would face it nonetheless. Dinah had no smile for him but Dick refused to believe she would have brought him all the way out here just to see his son's body.

“He isn’t here” is the first thing she says. Considering the charred bodies he just caught sight of in the entrance he’s grateful for her bluntness. “He was. At least according to the picture we found but we think someone rescued him.”

A sigh of relief leaves Dick but when he reaches for the folder in her hand she pulls it back.

“It’s bad Dick,” she says kindly “Just brace yourself first.”

He’s again grateful for the warning. The picture is awful. Seeing his little boy forced to lay there as those evil men cut all the way down to bone.

Dick looks one more to the burnt bodies and this time he hopes they suffered horribly before they died. Reading the gathered scraps of paper only makes it worse.

Subject 37 responds atypically to cold stimuli following inoculation. It seems to show signs of a hi—- –sponse. Continued efforts to apply subzero temperatures recommended for—-

—-ject 37 Three hours post project Hemitose initiation. It has begun orally rejecting the serum. Study of stomach contents reveals it is—

On and on it goes. Fragments of all the atrocities that had been done here. To his son. Before he can spiral into obsession Dinah closes the folder again.

“Bruce and Question are inside examining the place. We should head in” she tells him and she’s right. The most important thing right now is to figure out what happened next.

He finds the two detectives in a room full of 4x4 cells and steels himself to be the professional and hero his kid needs right now.

“What have we got?” he asks

“Two, possibly three prisoners escaping their cells and taking a goon by surprise before making a mad dash for an exit they closed behind them” Question replies.

“Possibly three?” Dick asks, looking at the two open cells.

“This one over here on the left” Bruce answers “Down at the very bottom the bars are slightly spread. It’s not a wide enough space for a full grown adult to get through but a child could.”

Peter.

Dick nods in understanding “And the fire?”

“Unclear,” continues Question. “There is a pile of wire over here that could have been from some sort of device though I can’t imagine how they would have made one here” he points to the camera in the ceiling corner.

Bruce takes over again “The bigger question is, if those bars really were spread, how was a child able to do so?”

“Super strength? But Peter doesn’t have the meta gene.” says Dick “On the other hand there are other ways to get super strength.”

“I think we have to assume that was the goal here. They just weren’t prepared to succeed.” says Bruce.

“I’m just glad they're all dead” Dick spits venomously.

B doesn’t dare object. Doesn’t even look like he wants to really but one can never really tell with him. Question on the other hand has somehow managed to convey an uncomfortable disagreement even without facial features. It’s uncharacteristic enough of the man that Dick should hesitate but he simply snaps at him. “What?”

“I’m not so convinced they all died” he states, unbothered “Did Canary tell you about the entrance we found?”

“Yeah? She said it was locked from the outside and several people died trying to get out that way.”

“Yes, and I find that suspicious. Why would a door so far from the cells only open from the outside? If it does, why would those people try to flee there knowing there was no way out? Unless maybe it wasn’t meant to be locked. I think someone did escape and they closed the door behind them trapping the rest inside. And we have no reason to believe it was the same people who used the fire to escape and block the other exit.”

It sounds like a wild implausible theory. That is characteristic of the man. But this is also Question which means it shouldn’t be so easily dismissed.

“So we have two egress points to start looking from. I’ve had Red Robin start compiling all possible satellite footage of this location to nail down a timeline and we can go from there.” says Bruce “Nightwing and I will start from the larger main entrance and search the area for signs of people leaving. Question, you take the other exit. We’ll message you with any updates from Red Robin.”

When they get back to the entrance, before they even start looking, Tim calls.

“What have you got?” Bruce asks.

“Sat footage of the area is spotty at best. The tree cover is too dense to get much and nothing with thermal capabilities has been pointed that direction. I could get one, if you want, but I’d need a more recent sighting to know where to point it. As it is, the appearance of marks on the trees at your location puts the escape at somewhere between March 10th and March 14th.”

“Has there been rain in this area since then?” asks Dick.

“Ummm…yes a couple times. Why?”

“I had a few of Peter’s things sealed for Bathound to get the scent of so we could track him.”

“Right, sorry even without the rain three weeks would be pushing it.” Tim tells him.

Three weeks. Once again Dick is too late. But it doesn’t matter because now he has hope again. He’ll do whatever it takes to find his son and bring him home.

—
April 9th 2017, 6:15 pm

Peter was getting a bit worried about Angel.

For several days after the bear attack she hadn’t said a word unless they asked her a direct question that couldn’t be answered with a yes or no. Even after she’d started talking again she’d been very subdued.

Johnny had needed to improve his hunting abilities quickly when they realized Angel would be sent into a panic attack anytime she couldn’t see Violet. Subsequently, Violet had only been able to practice her new skill when Angel was asleep but that was often.

Their attempts to head north to skirt the town before continuing west had been thwarted by even more farms and people above the town. A look at their little used map had informed them that they were most likely now northeast of Burlington and there was no easy passage west for them. Perhaps if they kept traveling north they’d eventually feel safe enough to venture east again.

In the meantime, they had just finished another deer at their temporary camp and Peter was fruitlessly trying to entertain Angel with shaped webs.

“Peter?”

“Yeah, Angel?”

“I miss Mommy. Do you?”

That hits Peter hard. “Yes, yes I miss my mom a lot.”

“Will you get to see her soon?”

“No I- My mom is gone. She died and I won’t get to see her again” he feels tears gather in his eyes. He probably shouldn’t have said that. It won’t help her. But it’s the truth he has to live with now.

“Oh. Well you can share my mommy if you want. When we get there.”

Guilt hits Peter like a sledgehammer. She thinks they are taking her home. But they haven’t been. They’ve just been running. No destination in mind but away.

But didn’t they tell her they would? Didn’t they make her a promise that first night in the cage? Has his own cowardice once again driven him to inaction? Worse, to keeping a little girl away from her family.

He looks up to see the same guilt reflected in Violet and Johnny’s eyes.

“Yes?”
“Yes”
“Yes”

“That sounds great Angel.”

It was time to go back to Gotham.

It was time to go home.

Chapter Text

May 30th 2017, 8:28 pm

“Red Robin there’s a fire on Stratford in the warehouse district I need you to check out.”

Tim is already up and running five words into Bab’s sentence. Something is up.

“Oracle, see if you can pull footage of any bystanders or people watching through nearby windows.”

“Uh, why?”

“Cause this is the third weird fire in the last week and arsonists like to watch their work.”

“It’s Gotham RR. A fire in a warehouse district isn’t weird.”

“And the fact that each one has been a single building fire that never spreads to a neighboring building but is always too big and hot for us to do anything by the time we get there?” already close enough to see that this one is the same. The building is completely engulfed in flames and anyone inside is long dead but it isn’t spreading.

“Yeah, yeah I’m searching bystanders” she replies “Maybe get a sample off the surrounding buildings. See if some kind of fire retardant was used.”

“It’s Gotham” he parrots “What kind of nasty chemicals aren’t coating these buildings?” Moving to collect samples all the same.

-
When Tim gets back to the cave he starts analysis of the samples and thinks over the case. An abandoned building at the very edge of Crime Alley, a storage facility building in Newtown, and a warehouse in Cherry Hills. All of them had gone up without warning, spreading, or hope of stopping till the building was ash.

He knew it wasn’t enough though. He might not believe in coincidences but the others loved to play devil's advocate on him. He needed another link.

Looking at the police reports he found it. According to investigations, including tonight’s surprisingly prompt report, a total of 31 people had died in these three fires. Eighteen of them had been in tonight's fire but that was still a suspiciously high number of deaths for places that don’t typically have people in them.

Someone was using fires to kill people in Gotham and this didn’t look like Firefly’s style. It was time to tell B.

-
June 3rd 2017 8:00 pm

After telling B, Tim had been assigned to monitor the situation and keep collecting evidence but in just three days the situation had gone from “worrying” to “Red Alert”.

Last night a well known hangout/bunkhouse for Black Mask was hit. At least 27 of his goons were killed and Jason was pissed. This was exactly the type of thing to send Roman on a paranoid killing spree and Red Hood would have his hands full trying to stop him.

To make matters worse this clearly showed a pattern of escalation. This new rogue was either getting more comfortable or devolving into a psychotic break. Tim didn’t know which yet but either were bad.

To top it all off they had apparently decided on a name to take credit with. Firebug. Not the most original but again points to either comfort in the role or crazy. Either way he was proving to be a slippery devil.

B had called a meeting which Jason had refused to come to, saying he had too much work to do calming Crime Alley back down. He promised to read over the reports though and send anything he learned about this Firebug guy.

Tim kinda felt bad for dragging Dick back for the meeting. Dick had pretty much lived in Northern Vermont for the weeks after the complex had been found and he’d gone back up every chance he got.

He had talked to nearly every rural local in the state and posted fliers everywhere but there had been nothing. Any time he wasn’t physically in Vermont he could usually be found scanning hours and hours worth of satellite images in the faint hope of seeing some sort of clue.

Unfortunately a new rogue was in town and they were about to turn Gotham into a warzone. It was all hands on deck to wrap this one up quickly before it escalated too far.

"Hey boyfie. Heard this one's on you. What kinda nasty you dig up for us this time?" Steph asks bouncing up to Tim at the batcomputer.

Tim sighs "I didn't dig them up. I saw a pattern and I connected it. You'd know exactly what kind of nasty if you'd been on coms last night."

"Eh, got busy" She shrugs "Tldr?"

"Arson" he replies

"Greaaat" She flops down in her seat already knowing she won't get more than that out of him till the meeting starts. He hates explaining everything over and over again.

Pretty soon they are only waiting on Dick. Then he stumbles his way, blurry eyed, down the steps to the cave and it’s time to get to work.

“Alrighty, whatcha got” Steph says quickly with a wide grin at cutting in seconds before B with the usual question.

“In the last week and a half there have been a series of suspicious fires in north Gotham. Each has been contained to only one building but not by the fire department. By the time they or we get reports of the fire it is already large enough that rescue is impossible. This means a highly effective accelerant is being used but also a fire retardant to keep the fire from spreading.”

“That’s not something we’ve seen from any of the Fireflies before” states Duke.

“No. Also unlike Firefly there has been no evidence of tech or explosives being used. Even if there was a new one that didn’t use these, containing the fire and leaving the scene goes against the Firefly MO.”

“And we’re certain they’re not staying to watch inconspicuously” B asks.

Babs cuts in on video with a sigh “If they are I can’t find them. None of the bystanders I’ve found have been at multiple sites and one didn’t even have any watchers as far as I can tell. The night guard at the storage facility called it in and there were no other witnesses.”

“Not really seeing how some contained fires that burned up someone’s old furniture warrants a full Bat meeting” says Steph

“Because that wasn’t what was burned” answers Tim “Each of these fires has body count and it’s steadily rising. The first was an abandoned building near Crime Alley that killed 5 people. The next was that storage facility building that killed the 8 people that were inside it. The next was a warehouse in Cherry Hills that killed 18 and last night 27 of Black Mask’s men were killed in a building he owns. After seeing how Black Mask was intentionally targeted I went back to the others to see if there was a connection and it’s worse.”

“Worse than someone poking that psycho?” asks an alarmed Duke.

“Yes. I’m still investigating that abandoned building but the night guard at the storage facility is on Maroni’s payroll and looking through the subsidiaries and fake names eventually showed the warehouse was one of Falcone’s that they were using to store fear gas. We didn’t even know about it.”

“Shit. Someone is trying to start a war in Gotham.” Duke says.

“One that will quickly spread to the streets if we don’t put a stop to it” interjects Bruce “Anything on IDing the one responsible?”

“Not exactly” says Tim “I’ve yet to get any type of picture or physical evidence but last night we got a name. Of a sort. On the sidewalk in front of the building was spray painted in red Firebug.”

“Tch, Firebug? They could not even attempt a more original name?” scoffs Damian.

“Yeah I get the feeling being creative isn’t this guy’s wheel house.” replies Tim pulling the picture up on screen. “As you can see there is some type of symbol under the name that looks like some kind of…wonky star? An asterisk? I’m not sure, but whoever this guy is “artist” and “tagger” aren’t it with how blotchy this spray paint is.”

“He doesn’t get better with practice either.” He calls up several more photos. “I went back over the previous sites today and every one of them now has this same signature somewhere nearby. It’s smaller and more conspicuous than the Black Mask one but I am 90 percent sure none of these were there before last night. Babs, did you have any luck looking at cameras around when those were placed?”

“Not really. Whoever this is knows how to avoid cameras. I did happen to catch a weird shadow last night only an hour before you showed up at one and found the tag but it’s not even defined enough for me to be sure it’s a person.”

Tim is about to ask more but Babs keeps going.

“We’ve got an even bigger problem” she lets out another weary sigh. “As of twenty minutes ago there was another escape from Arkham”

A loud groan comes from Steph as she slumps in her chair “So much for finishing this before it escalates. Who is it this time?”

“GPD reports Killer Croc, Scarecrow, Professor Pyg,...and Joker”

The weary sighs come from around the room this time. This is gonna be hell. But Tim’s already spotted a discrepancy.

“The other three make sense but Croc? He’s not the goon type.”

“Looks like he was used for the escape.” Babs answers “Not sure which of the other three are responsible but something was slipped into his food that made him go berserk. The others used the chaos to escape.”

“Of course they did,” mutters Steph, still slumped in her seat.

They all turn to look at B for the plan.

“Spoiler and Orphan will cover Chinatown, Upper West Side and the University district. Particularly focus on the University district and see if you can catch Pyg slinking back to his hole.

Robin and I will patrol the Upper East Side and hunt down leads on Scarecrow and Joker. Red Robin and Nightwing have the northern island. Continue to make Firebug your priority.

Red Hood is dealing with Black Mask but the whole area is going to be affected by the tension with the families so stay sharp. Duke get some rest but be ready to be called out. Firebug is starting huge fires very quickly and I want to know how. As soon as one is spotted, Oracle will alert you to go out and see what you can find out.”

They all nod in understanding. It went without saying that they would each need to be alert for Killer Croc since there was no telling which sewer he would pop up out of. Each team would carry a set of tranqs with them just like each person would carry a gas mask in case of running into Scarecrow.

Tim turned to Dick. The bags under his partner’s eyes were a permanent fixture these days but Tim could see he was alert and ready to work.

They set out to save the city once more.

Chapter Text

June 4th, 2017, 2:47 am

Dick feels like he’s missing something.

It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. That itching in the back of his brain, particularly on tricky cases, that tells him he’s too close or obsessing over tiny details and needs to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. The thing is, Dick literally just got this case so he’s not sure what he could possibly be missing already.

The lack of sleep probably isn’t helping. He can’t help it though. Every time he even thinks about stepping away from the screen to take a break from the endless pictures of forests he thinks that maybe the next one will finally be the one.

Every time his eyes start burning with dryness and blue light he thinks about all the pain and suffering Peter was put through. What is a bit of eyestrain and exhaustion compared to that? Not to mention the nightmares that have all new material to torture him with. Things that are actually true.

Right now though he needs to focus on this new case. This Firebug guy is causing chaos and making powerful enemies very quickly. Even if this guy thought he was doing the right thing, targeting mob goons and criminals, no one had the right to play executioner and innocent bystanders were going to get caught in the crossfire before long.

Since they had been assigned to focus on Firebug, Tim had shared more details of leads he’d been chasing. Investigations of the fires had proved inconclusive. Obviously an accelerant of some kind was being used but they hadn’t been able to identify what.

Tim’s own samples of the outside of the surrounding buildings had resulted in an overwhelming number of chemicals present but he’d not yet been able to isolate one as being the reason they were still standing.

The fire investigator and police reported in the Black Mask fire that something must have been used to block the door. The dead men had been crowded around the exits but for some reason hadn’t been able to get out. No signs of what had been used could be found.

In the earlier fires this could mean Firebug was returning to remove evidence but not in the case of this latest one. One more mystery on top of all the rest.

It had been a long patrol already tonight. The seedy underbelly of Gotham always tended to rise up and cause mayhem every time there was an Arkham breakout. But the night was far from over.

“Nightwing, Red Robin I’m sending you coordinates of another fire on the outskirts of Otisburg” Oracle tells them.

“Have you already messaged Signal to meet us there?” asks Dick.

“No point. The fire’s almost out at this point. No way he can see far enough back to see it started.”

“Why didn’t we get a report earlier?” Tim asks, annoyed.

“It’s an abandoned building near the border of Amusement Mile…” she replies

Shit

They’re all silent for a few moments. Finally Dick speaks up already having an inkling what this one is about.

“We’re on our way. Do we need to worry about any officials coming in?”

“Nope. Fire and police both refused to dispatch to it. You’re clear to investigate.”

And investigate they do. They reach the smoldering ruin of what was once a decent sized house. Inside they find the bodies of around two dozen people. The beer and other alcohol bottles around plus the empty cans of what had once been white face paint tell Dick this is exactly what he expected it to be.

There are always parties like this whenever Joker gets out of Arkham once again. His various goons and (urgh) fans like to get together and celebrate his “triumph over the system” or whatever nonsense it is he feeds them.

It’s very unlikely the Joker himself was at this particular one but it says something that this is the one that was targeted. Only Joker’s most loyal and diehard “fans” would get this close to Amusement Mile even if they wouldn’t dare go in it. Firebug is racking up enemies as quickly as his body count.

Dick still feels like he’s missing something.

-
June 12th 2017, 10:47 pm

“Spoiler there’s been a report of a Firebug fire on Litenburg St. sending you the address now. Signal is in route.”

Dick is surprised at the report from Oracle. Litenburg is near the University much further south than any of the other fires had been. He shares a look with Tim, silently communicating that he’ll be the one to go.

Hopefully Duke can make it in time to give them something. It’s even further south for him but his Ghost Vision is going to be essential in figuring out what they’re dealing with here because conventional methods aren’t working.

Dick arrives to see what looks like a shop with an upstairs apartment engulfed in flames. The building is so overcome he can’t even tell what sort of shop it was.

Batman lands on the roof beside him. “Oracle work with the assumption this is following pattern and figure out what sort of criminal connection there is here.”

“Got it”

It’s several tense minutes before Duke arrives. He doesn’t even take a moment to say anything to them. Just faces the building and stills as time rewinds for him alone.

“Got something” he says at last “Got a figure in all black walking around the building starting the fire.”

He jumps down to get a closer look. Everyone is giving the still roaring fire a wide berth. The firemen seem to have realized there was nothing they could, or had to, do so they weren’t in any hurry. Duke walked up as close as he could stand to the corner of the building and just stared.

“I lose them in the shadowed alleyway,” he says, pointing away.

That’s it? If he hadn’t gotten here in time to be able to see anything that would be one thing but Dick had been expecting more than just “figure in black”

B seems to expect more too but doesn’t press. He inclines his head to a different roof top and the two of them follow him. Steph wants to follow as well but B waves her off to monitor the fire.

They cross the roof tops to an apartment near Robinson Park that B owns. Only once they are in and the door is locked does Duke release the tension from his shoulders.

B doesn’t even need to ask before Duke is explaining.

“He’s a meta. There is no tech or accelerant, just fire pouring from his hands as he walks around the building.”

Well that at least partially explains why Duke was being so cagey. He knows how hard things can be for metas.

“Did you get a description we can use to find him?” B asks.

“Not really. Like I said he’s wearing full black. And I mean fully head to toe. Fully covered face even on his eyes and nose. I can’t even give you a skin color”

“But?” asks Dick since he can see Duke is hesitating and something about what he saw spooked him enough to want full security before he told them.

“But he’s short. I mean like a full head shorter than me.” Duke’s lips press into a grim line “He could just be naturally short but added in with his build…and I think we’re looking for a kid.”

That’s when it clicks for Dick. What’s been bugging him for days. What he’s been missing. A kid. A kid that uses fire to kill bad people. Peter.

“He’s-not” he manages to choke out “He’s not a meta. He was experimented on”

He can see the moment Duke understands. The shock of realizing just who they have been chasing.

Peter

Peter is in Gotham

Dick has to find him

Chapter Text

June 13th 2017, 8:46 pm

Damian is not happy.

This Firebug guy had already been annoying. Causing chaos and stirring up trouble. Not to mention the total lack of creativity. But now Richard is absolutely convinced Firebug is his son.

The meeting last night had made that perfectly clear. Richard hadn't even considered any other possibilities and the others had gone along with him. Despite the fact that Thomas had admitted to seeing no identifying features. Even his assertion that Firebug is a child is just speculation.

But Damian had known better than to voice such thoughts. Richard wasn't ready to hear them and the others, especially Todd and Drake, would just accuse him of being jealous.

He wasn't.

He just didn't like how Richard was dealing with this case.

Barbara had, at length, been able to find a criminal connection to the latest fire. The shop/apartment had been a hideout and front for Professors Pyg.

The pulled pork sandwich shop.

Brown had been physically sick at the implication and Damian had almost felt sympathy for her. He is glad he is a vegetarian.

Richard had had an entirely different take on the situation. Pointing out that someone who had escaped from a human experimentation lab would find Pyg especially offensive. Since Pyg is the mad scientist type himself. Often attempting to make human animal hybrids to disastrous results.

Damian agreed that this was an explanation for Firebug moving south to target Pyg specifically. What he didn't agree with is Richard's attempts to justify Firebug's crimes now that he believes this is his son's doing.

The sliding scale of morality, ends justifying the means, is exactly opposite of everything Richard had taught him. Damian had once firmly believed it was ok to kill evil people. Richard had been the one to guide him away from that mindset and show him the problems with thinking like that. Yet here he was changing all that for the sake of his son. He was ready to coddle and protect this criminal just because of who he believes him to be.

Maybe that is going too far but at the very least it is obvious Richard and the others have no intention of turning Firebug over to the police. Not that Damian thinks the justice system would have any idea how to handle a 9 year old murderer no matter his identity.

Luckily for Damian's mounting frustration, Father has never been a fool and is aware he wishes to voice his thoughts. Shortly after they begin their patrol Father stops them on a secluded roof and Damian takes that as his cue to begin.

"You are aware there is every possibility Firebug is not who Nightwing believes he is."

Father hums in confirmation but says nothing.

"Even if this is the same fire starter it still might not be him. There were other prisoners there." He chooses his words carefully, wary of the possibility of eavesdroppers. Father had impressed on each of them last night that their suspicions on this case must remain top secret.

"Nightwing is allowing himself to hope" Damian states.

Father hums again but this time he does speak up.

"People are always wary of giving others false hope. But the sting of false hope will fade over time. The idea that there was something you could do and you didn't. That will haunt you for the rest of your life." Father explains "Besides it's too much of a coincidence for them not to be connected. At the very least, bringing in Firebug will give us information."

"You all seem very eager to welcome a killer into our home" snaps Damian, his real issue finally surfacing. The moment the words leave his mouth he knows they were a mistake.

What was he but a killer when he first entered the manor? It had been his entire identity and he had started younger than nine. Father, the others, and especially Richard had still welcomed him in. Made him part of the family (even when he wished some of them wouldn't).

Richard had been endlessly patient with him, showing him right from wrong. Was Damian so unwilling to extend that same kindness to another?

Before Father can point out Damian’s hypocrisy, Oracle cuts in over coms.

“Another fire in the University District. A warehouse near Pier 18.”

Another fire? The very next night? Firebug is escalating and they just so happen to be close by.

“Robin and I are in route. Eta 2 minutes.”

They can see the blaze long before they reach it. Firebug isn’t only escalating in time but in scale too. This building is four stories, much taller than previous, and the top two floors haven’t gone up yet.

Robin can see the silhouette of people in the top floor and his job is to save people.

Putting extra force into his final swing Robin launches himself through the top floor window, Batman right behind him. Inside they find four of Pyg’s lobotomized human puppets in pig masks.

Without orders from Pyg to follow the mindless victims will just stand here and burn to death. Getting them out will be tricky but they need to clear the lower floor first.

“I’ll check below,” he tells Batman. Sprinting for the stairwell.

Getting to the third floor he finds two more drones. One is either unconscious or dead from smoke inhalation but the other is still standing. He grabs the man, pulling him back towards the stairs.

The windows are no good. He can already see the flames licking at the bottom of their frames. As he hears the floors creak ominously he debates the wisdom of risking his life for someone essentially braindead.

Before he can reconsider any further an resounding crack from above his head causes him to snap his head up. The slanted ceiling joist right before the staircase must have already been weak. It's falling on him and with the man blocking behind him Damian can do nothing but close his eyes and brace.

He opens his eyes again, surprised. Had the beam missed? He was sure it was headed right for him. He looks to either side of him to see the splintered remains but the area he’s standing in is clear.

What?

He doesn’t have time to investigate the mystery any further. He moves forward again, dragging the somehow still living man behind him.

Batman has already cleared the other four people and he grabs the last one from Robin as they swing out of the building to safety.

They hand off the victims to an EMT and then swing up to join Signal on a nearby roof.

Thomas’s suit is disheveled and a couple parts are missing. He looks exhausted as he stares at the fire. Obviously he did not believe he would be called out two nights in a row.

If Thomas sees something new to ID Firebug he doesn’t say so. Simply stating, “Guess we don’t have to search for who the target was this time.”

“Tch obviously,” Damian turns back to Father “Something strange occurred while I was in there. While returning to the stairs with the other victim I was nearly hit by a falling beam. The beam fell directly on my head but nothing hit me. Two halves of it fell to either side instead.”

“Sounds to me you’re headed to medical. You definitely got hit on the head in there” jokes Thomas.

Damian does not appreciate his input. “I did not. That is my entire point. The beam fell to either side but I was not hit.” he repeats.

“Good to know I’m not the only one losing sleep over this case” is Thomas’s reply.

Damian narrows his eyes, annoyed “Tch perhaps you could actually be helpful in this case and go see what happened.”

“You want me to go into a burning building just to prove you’re not crazy? Jeez dude. How sleep deprived are you?”

Damian turns away crossing his arms. Refusing to contribute further to this conversation. But he knows what he saw and he made his report. Something is going on here.

As they wait for the fire to burn down, Damian is left reevaluating his position on Firebug. He's still wary but he can see the reason for the course they've chosen on this case. Perhaps Peter is not beyond their reach.

At least Damian won't be the youngest in the family anymore.

That will be nice.

—-
“That was reckless Vi! You can’t take chances like that. What if you’d been spotted?”

“No one can spot me Johnny! I’m invisible.”

Peter listens to his friends argue on the street below while also listening to the Bats argue in the distance. Johnny’s right, what Violet did was a risk. Luckily the Bats think Robin was just seeing things.

This entire night had been a risk. They’d planned for days to hit that storage warehouse tonight but when they’d learned about that shop they hadn’t been willing to let that go for even a day. Doing two nights back to back had strained them but it was done now. They’d been successful.

Time for the next one.

“You still shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t worth it.”

“We made a promise, Johnny. We promised that we wouldn’t let anyone innocent be killed doing this. I couldn’t just let Robin die”

“And what about you huh? Putting yourself in danger where we won’t be there to help you. You can’t just take risks like this with your life”

Peter hops down. He knows this is no longer just about what happened in the fire. He gathers the two most important people in the world close to him.

Violet knows it too, from the way she clutches at the charm on the necklace she will never take off. When she speaks again she is softer but no less determined than before.

“I have to do this. She deserves to know”