Chapter Text
“Who are the members of the team Young Justice?” The teacher asked the second Peter entered the classroom’s doorway.
It’d been a few weeks since dad’s almost dying incident. They allowed the dust to settle and eventually the family started pressing him on school again. Despite Peter’s assurances that he could graduate early without even studying, he was still forced into going against his will. ‘Something something, your education is important, blah blah blah.’ To make matters worse, Dad had wanted him to attend Gotham Academy, a private school that reeked of pretentious rich kids.
Peter attended strictly private schools ever since second grade when his teachers finally realized he was far too ahead of his peers to actually gain anything from their classrooms. Uncle Ben and Aunt May had paid exorbitant amounts for his tuition, insisting that it was worth it. Private schools were always… gross, for lack of a better word—or more accurately, lack of care to find the right way to express how the halls made his skin crawl.
That being said, Midtown High was leagues better than this place. Midtown was filled with rich kids who looked down on Peter because of his scuffed shoes and skateboard that was the same age they were, but at least they all earned their place there. Midtown was a tech school; one of the many prerequisites every student had was an entry exam in mathematics, robotics, engineering, chemistry, and biology. Despite the wealth that filled the school, everyone was a nerd just like he was. They looked down on his social class, not his intellect.
Unsurprisingly, Gotham Academy was the opposite in almost every way. This school housed Gotham’s elite. The one percent of one percenters. He’d heard a kid outside complaining about having to help set up his family’s seventh vacation home. There wasn’t any sort of exam, no grade requirement, no IQ test, nothing except pure luck placing everyone in the school. Peter felt like a fish out of water—Spider out of web?—just walking through the building.
The place was almost as extravagant as the manor, which was saying something considering the way it smelt of old money. Everyone there had that accent that just felt like they thought they were better than anyone who made under seven figures a year.
Honestly, he could deal with the judgmental glances, and the way his uniform was scratchy and tight despite being fitted. He could get over the bullies he was sure to encounter and the trophies filling up the walls. What truly unnerved him was that he never earned his place. For Midtown, he not only worked his ass off academically, but the second he was old enough to work he sold photos and did odd jobs to help pay back his aunt and uncle. He could proudly say that he deserved that education. For Gotham Academy, he just happened to strike gold for once in his life.
Needless to say, Peter was going to raise hell the second he got back to the manor.
“Ahem, I asked, who are the members of Young Justice?” The teacher repeated, pulling Peter out of his ranting inner monologue.
He shyly knocked on the open door, alerting the teacher of his presence. “Um, sorry, I uh, is this U.S. History 2?”
The teacher squinted his eyes slightly, taking in Peter’s nervous demeanor. “Yes. I assume you’re the new student?”
“Yeah, sorry,” why was he apologizing? Stop, Gwen said it was weird to apologize so much! “I’m late ‘cos I had to sign in, sorry,” way to go Parker.
“Tt,” the teacher was more judgmental and holier-than-thou than Flash Thompson, an impressive feat if he was honest. “Anyone who is late, has to answer a question for the class. So, who are the members of Young Justice?”
“Uh,” crap. Tim had told him a handful of times about how the majority of times he left Gotham he was with Young Justice. Unfortunately, Peter had never thought ahead to ask about any of the members. He thought he remembered a speedster and an archer on one of the posters, though. They reminded him of Pietro and Kate. “There’s Red Robin,” he started. Didn’t one of the bats mention that there was a speedster named Flash? “There’s Flash, and uh,” crap. What’s a good archer name? Wasn’t there Green Arrow’s sidekick? Speedy, or something? “Speedy… I’m not sure the rest, sorry.”
The room was full of giggles. He could’ve sworn his super hearing picked up on a girl whispering “Imp’s gonna have a field day with that one.”
Peter bit his lip, looking to the ground. The embarrassments that came with an alternate universe was one of the worst parts. Right behind the fact that he was in New Jersey.
The teacher sighed and pointed his attention back to the lesson. “Young Justice is made up of Red Robin, Wonder Girl, Impulse, Superboy, Secret, Slobo, and Empress. Occasionally, they’ve been seen with Arrowette, although sightings are exceptionally rare,” he spewed. “Now,” he looked back at Peter. “Introduce yourself to the class.”
Peter gripped his backpack straps, careful not to rip the seams. Being the New Kid sucked. “I’m Peter Grayson… I just moved here from New York.”
Peter hated the new name he had to deal with. Obviously, with his father having a new name—or technically, Parker was the new name, but he didn’t want to think about that—he had to legally change his name. They couldn’t claim that Peter was adopted, the resemblance was too uncanny to ignore. Which left them with the story that Peter had grown up without his father—true—he was raised by his mother—false—he was born and raised in New York—true—after his mother’s sudden death, he was sent to live with his father—false, kind of. He didn’t dwell on the semi truth due to May’s sudden death.
The name and the story was required. He couldn’t fight his way out of it no matter how much he wanted to. Dad had been insistent that they could find some way to keep Parker in it, even just as a middle name, or hyphenated, if he preferred. But Peter refused despite how badly he wanted to keep his name.
He claimed that he wanted a fresh start. If he was honest with himself, it was because he didn’t deserve to wear the Parker name. Ben and May were dead because of him. Peter was the reason that no more Parkers existed on his earth. It felt wrong to wear the name of dead people while unable to properly memorialize them.
“Grayson? You’re Dick Grayson’s son?” The teacher’s former air of disdain instantly evaporated. “Please, take a seat wherever you’d like.”
Ugh. Was this how Flash Thompson felt? Peter needed to get home and take a bath to rid himself of the slimy feeling all over from the favoritism he was being afforded.
He gave a quick nod and made his way down the classroom, desperate to nab a seat in the back.
“Hey Peter! Come sit with us,” a girl with long blonde hair waved him over with enthusiasm that rivaled Steph’s.
Oh Thor. Was he being favored by his classmates as well? Ew ew ew ew. “Oh, okay,” sure, the nepotism was seriously about to make him gag, but he was raised by May Parker. The woman would scold him endlessly for not being polite. So, he took the seat to the right of the girl.
“My name’s Cissie King-Jones, and that,” she pointed to the girl with short blond hair parted into low pigtails who was seated to her left. “Would be Cassie Sandsmark.”
“Hey, nice to meet you Peter!” The other one—Cassie—waved with a bright smile that looked a hint too much like MJ’s. Or maybe he was just grieving. Ugh. Double ew.
“Nice to meet you guys too,” he gave his best attempt at a smile, grabbing his backpack to pull out his laptop. “Uhm, what exactly are we doing?”
“We’re learning about Young Justice and the Teen Titans, don’t worry, we’ll catch you up to speed. Cassie’s a mega fan. She’s got a massive poster of Arrowette,” Cissie gave a knowing look to Cassie. Probably some sort of inside joke, he figured.
“Oh, okay cool. I know a bit about the Teen Titans…” all he knew was that dad was a part of them. He hadn’t really gotten a chance to properly ask ‘cos of the whole almost dying and school thing. Both equally good reasons, in his opinion.
“Yeah? Who’s your favorite? I love Wonder Girl, personally,” Cassie said.
“Uhm…” he tried desperately to think of a name other than the obvious but came up blank. “Nightwing, I guess.”
The girls exchanged amused glances. “Good answer, he’s my favorite too. I mean seriously, have you seen him? I wanna get robbed in Blüd just so he’ll show up,” Cissie giggled, edging on a teasing tone.
“Uh… okay?” Peter was seriously confused. Well, no, he wasn’t an idiot. But the obvious explanation was too gross to contemplate. So, playing dumb it was.
Cassie nudged the other girl with an eye roll. “Sorry, she’s just messing with you.”
“I’m speaking the complete truth, from the heart.”
She ignored the interruption. “We know who you are, I mean duh, Tim told us after some serious begging.”
Peter short circuited. How did they know Tim? Tim never mentioned having any friends outside of the vigilante biz. “Oh, cool… is it okay to say that I dunno who you guys are?”
Cissie snorted. “Yeah, that tracks. Timmy’s way too paranoid for that. And honestly, I’m pretty relieved. God, if you seriously thought I was Speedy I might actually blow chunks.”
That did not help the blue screen in Peter’s mind. “Sorry… how do y’guys know Tim?”
Cassie leaned a bit further in and spoke in a whisper. “The fast food chain he insists on calling himself.”
Before he could respond, Cissie pulled up a photo of Young Justice. “Look familiar?” She pointed to an archer in a red costume, and a girl with black hair with a Wonder Woman logo on her shirt.
Peter glanced at the picture and back to them. Cissie was obviously alluding to her being the archer. The Wonder Woman one was a bit harder to place.
Cassie smirked and typed in another search, bringing up the same hero with hair in an identical style to her own. “Yeah, the black hair tripped people up a lot,” she laughed. “I’m Wonder Girl, leader of Young Justice.”
He sighed in realization, putting his head in his hands. “Of course Tim wouldn’t tell me that his teammates went to the same school as me.”
Cissie bit back her smile. “Oh no, he doesn’t know either. We’re undercover.”
“We’ve got a Wonder Girl mission. Cis doesn’t do the whole superhero gig anymore, but I still drag her on undercover work sometimes,” Cassie explained.
“Why not just tell Tim?”
“‘Cos that’d ruin our ability to surprise him,” Cissie said like it was obvious. “Besides, Batman doesn’t allow other heroes in his ‘territory’ without his permission.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, his mind already on something else. “That makes sense I guess.”
“Uh oh, why do you have that look… you’re planning something, aren’t you?” Cassie accused. “Oh Gods, you’re not gonna ruin our plan and tell Tim, right?”
“No, no, no!” Peter was quick to assure. “Quite the opposite, actually…”
Cissie grinned. “You joining us in tormenting Rob? You joining the dark side, Grayson?”
The name rubbed him wrong, but the prospect at causing Tim annoyance was far more pressing. “I’m in.”
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His first couple of classes were uneventful. Cissie and Cassie were seniors which placed them in different schedules so they had exchanged numbers to plan their attack on one Tim Drake. Besides from the occasional text from them, there really wasn’t a whole lot to say about his first day at Gotham Academy.
Well, there wasn’t before a giant stopped him in the hallway.
“You Grayson?” The giant—Jeez, how tall was this guy? Seven feet?—asked with a booming voice. Or maybe the height difference made him imagine the echoing off the walls.
“Yep,” Peter kept his head to the ground with his hands firm on his backpack straps. “Sorry, gotta run to class,” he tried to excuse himself.
“Not so fast,” the giant crossed his arms and stepped to block Peter’s path. “What’s a kid like you doing here?”
Peter greatly agreed with the sentiment. He seriously did not belong there, but still, hey! The human tree had no right to question his validity as a student. “I snuck in. Hacked the school computers, y’know the drill.”
“I fuckin’ knew it!”
“Ah jeez, this place is worse than I thought. You guys don’t even know sarcasm,” Peter kicked the ground as if he were saying ‘aw shucks.’
“You callin’ me an idiot?” The giant growled.
“Well, I’m not exactly calling you Einstein,” Peter gave the most annoying smile he could muster. “C’mon, I believe in you! Even you could figure that out! All by yourself too!”
— !! Duck !! —
Peter braced for impact, already reflexively ignoring his Spidey Sense while in school. He’d been through this dance countless times before. The punch to his jaw knocked him on his ass. At least, he’s pretty sure it would to a normal person his size, so that’s what he did. The hit wasn’t comfortable, obviously. Getting decked in the face always sucked, regardless of super healing. But eh, it was worth it to piss off an asshole.
“What’d you say, dickhead?” The giant stood above him in an attempt to be menacing.
Peter didn’t mean to laugh. Seriously, he truly didn’t. But it was really hard not to laugh at the reminder that his dad’s name was Dick. All the bats called him some variation of dickhead, dickface, blah blah blah. And yes, Peter considered himself to be mature. And yes, he was still a sixteen year old who would laugh at potty humor no matter the circumstances.
“What’re you laughing at? Want another knuckle sandwich?” The giant cracked his knuckles.
Oh. The universe was taunting him. In between giggles, Peter spoke as he got back to his feet. “Oh my Thor. You’re like, an actual Disney channel bully. Are you gonna stuff me in a locker? Steal my lunch money? Genuinely dude, I’m begging you to. I have a bucket list. Oooh wait, d’you give swirlies? I’ve gotten beaten loads of times before but I’ve never gotten any of the classics, y’know? Could you help a guy out and—”
The giant proceeded to punch him again. Ugh. That wasn’t what he asked for! Peter had already gotten punched by bullies before. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. “Okay, ow,” he rubbed his jaw. “Man, you ask a guy to give you a swirly one time.”
“You think you’re funny, Grayson?”
“I think I’m handsome, hilarious, charming—”
The giant interrupted him with a sharp punch to his gut. Peter’s back slammed into one of the nearby lockers. Once he regained his breath that was knocked out of him, he continued. “As I was saying, I think I’m very fu—”
Another hit. This time, a kick to his knee that had been broken on patrol last night. It had been healing, not fully of course, but it was good enough that he could reliably walk on it. Despite the fact that it was previously functional, the kick set back hours of healing. And holy God of Thunder did that kick send his nerves into a tizzy.
The giant had the nerve to chuckle when Peter cursed, gripping his knee. “You gonna keep blabbering?”
“Wha— ‘blabbering?’ What the hell are you, some wannabe greaser from the 50s? Are you about to call for ‘your boys’ and start snapping ominously?” Peter questioned, releasing his knee which was most definitely fractured. Again.
“You ever shut up?”
“No,” he grinned with all the obnoxiousness he could summon. “Anyway, I’m totally late to class. And like, this is my first day, dude. Could you save the romcom bully act for a different day?” Peter started to walk away before the back of his collar was gripped, rendering him unable to get away.
Or, more accurately, rendered Peter Parker unable to get away. Spider-man could’ve knocked the guy out in one fell swoop. But that was not who he was at the moment. Peter Parker, or Peter Grayson now, was a weak, asthmatic kid who couldn’t do more than ten pushups without getting winded. He could not fight back or dodge.
This time, the punch to his face was a bit harsher. Peter felt the warm blood trickling from his nose almost immediately. “Seriously?” Was all he got out before another punch came.
Ugh. This was humiliating. The pain hardly bothered him. The hit to his ego, though… that was lethal.
“You gonna keep up your yammering?” The giant spat less than two inches away from Peter’s face. The grip he held on his collar prevented him from squirming too much.
Peter gagged. “Dude. Mouthwash. I’ll literally give you a mint, jeez. And honestly, I’m kinda starting to love your vocab. Hell yeah dude. Keep yammering your little heart out.”
Aaaaand another punch.
This may be why Aunt May and Uncle Ben would routinely have talks with him about when to quit. And when to not get into fights. And why he shouldn’t ‘press people’s buttons.’ And why he needed to stop ‘talking back.’
Briefly he wondered if they were right. That was quickly evaporated when a teacher came running through the halls shouting the giant’s name.
“Thomas! Put him down this instant,” the teacher, an older man, ordered as if this were a common occurrence.
Peter scoffed as he was let go. “Pfft, your name is Thomas? That's almost as bad as Eugene. D’you go by a dumbass nickname like Flash too?”
“My full name’s Thomas Eugene you dick,” The giant—Thomas—spat.
What!? Flash, aka Eugene Thompson, aka the most annoying and slimy dude at Midtown High, shared a name with this dude!? Yeah, alternate universes sucked. “Aw. I would’ve preferred if you insulted me with ‘Penis Parker’ like old times, but sigh, I guess that nickname is long gone.”
“Did you just say the word sigh?”
The teacher cleared his throat, grabbing back their attention. “Are you hurt?” He looked towards Peter.
“I mean my pride definitely took a beating.”
The teacher massaged his brow, clearly sick of this part of his job. “Both of you, principals office now.”
“Sir yes sir,” Peter saluted, and started making his way down the hallway.
“It’s the other way.”
“Ah right. I knew that.”
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Oh, Peter was so dead. Like, the blip meant nothing to him anymore, he was so dead. Double dead. A bajillion times dead. He was Jason Todd. He still didn’t know exactly what that entailed but he knew it had something to do with being dead. Which he was certainly going to be.
“Both of you will be suspended for a week,” the principal said.
Peter raised his hand slightly for permission to speak. “I didn’t hit him, I was kinda just there.”
“You participated in the fight by instigating him.”
“I have free speech,” Peter mumbled under his breath, crossing his arms. “Wait, that is like, a thing in the constitution right? Did that change here?”
Both Thomas—ugh—and the principal shared confused glances. After a beat of silence, the principal continued. “Regardless of what roles each of you played, you’re both suspended due to disorderly conduct. Gotham academy prides itself on blah blah blah, school pride, national anthem, Thor, blah blah blah.”
Peter zoned out after a sentence or two. He’d already been through this speech loads of times. Now, came the worst part.
“Obviously, both your parents have been called to pick you up early.”
He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t odd to hear someone say they were calling his parents. It had happened a handful of times from teachers' threats; they almost always recognized their mistake immediately and awkwardly corrected themselves to ‘guardian.’ It was uncanny to not hear the quick correction.
Once that thought ran through his head, a much, much, much, worse one came.
Like how Peter was so dead.
Deader than like, Gallifrey, or something.
It felt like hours before the secretary finally called Peter to leave. When he did, he was met by his father with an expression he had seen far too often from May and Ben.
Peter followed him out to the car, neither said anything until they were seated and on the road.
“Peter Benjamin Parker.”
“Richard Lawrence Parker Dick John Grayson,” Peter side eyed him from the passenger seat. “Ha! I can full name you twice now.”
Dad sighed, clearly questioning every decision he’d made leading up to that moment. “I’m assuming you’re not too hurt, right?”
“I’m fine,” Peter shrugged off. “I’ve had a warehouse fall on me, a train ran into me, a giant lizard attacked me, I think I can handle a normal dude needing a power trip.”
“Then why exactly did you not disable him before it got out of hand?” Dad questioned, eyes trained on the road ahead.
“Uhhh, ‘cos spider powers, duh,” he rolled his eyes. “First off, if I miscalculated even a little bit, that asshole—”
“Language.”
“Who are you, Captain America?” Peter glared at the interruption but continued. “Fine, the jerk, that better? The jerk woulda gotten a broken nose if he was lucky. Plus, I can’t go around dodging punches I shouldn’t even be able to see. People will put together that I’m at least a mutant,” Duke had corrected Peter once before that their world called enhanced individuals ‘metas’ but Peter thought that was dumb, so, mutant it was.
Dad rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Peter, you can still protect yourself. Or, if you refuse to take the risk, don’t keep bantering.”
Peter groaned. “But where’s the fun in that?”
“There is no fun! It’s a fight! You get out as unscathed as possible. Fun should be the last thing on your mind,” dad gripped the steering wheel with one hand, while the other moved through the air.
“Says the guy who dressed as a traffic light to get into fights.”
“Are we talking about me right now?”
“I’d love to! Y’know, I went so many years without knowing y—”
“Peter,” dad pulled over to look him in the eye.
“Uh oh, it’s serious when you pull over, isn’t it?” Peter grimaced. “One time Uncle Ben did this after I got into a fight. I was grounded for like, two weeks. And grounded from my science homework. Y’know how sick that is?”
Dad gave him a look that said ‘I’m not going to tell you to shut up, but you better get the cue to shut up from this glare.’
Peter obliged, sinking into his seat, preparing for the oncoming lecture that he’d heard a million times.
The man sighed. “Your Uncle Ben ever tell you how many fights I got into when I was a kid?”
“Uh, yeah, actually…” he trailed off, caught off guard by the question. “I’d hear like, once a day how much I was like you. At least half of those times were ‘cos I got my ass handed to me in fights.”
Dad chuckled lightly. “Yeah, believe me, whatever stories May and Ben told you, it was worse than that,” He started with a breath. “There was a time when I was in the circus and this kid was throwing popcorn in my face. I was like, seven? Maybe eight? And, man, I did not appreciate that. My parents kept reminding me throughout the show that I needed to stay focused. An acrobat cannot be distracted mid performance, especially at my skill level. But, I let the kid get to me. In the middle of the tightrope, I tried to catch a kernel to throw back at him.”
“On a tightrope?” Peter gaped. “Dude, did you have a death wish?”
“The popcorn really got to me,” dad shrugged. “Needless to say, I lost my balance the second I reached for it. Luckily, since I was a kid there was a net underneath me.”
Peter raised a brow. “Right. So, cool story and all but uh… I hate to tell you, that’s not really a fight. That was more gravity reminding you it exists.”
Dad rolled his eyes. “The point is, I let my ego and pride take hold of me. All I wanted to do was show off to that kid who didn’t even matter to me. And as a result, I made an even bigger fool of myself.”
“Well I mean, that’s not really applicable to my situation seeing as I did not make a fool of my—”
“Peter.”
He sighed. “Yeah, fine whatever. I get the moral. Am I grounded?”
Dad ignored his question. “Is this gonna happen again?”
“I dunno, is Eugene Thompson’s seven feet tall rip off gonna annoy me again?” The glare he received forced a different response. “No,” he conceded with his head hung low.
“To answer your question, no, you're not grounded.” Yay! “But, you can’t engage with any robbery, fights, or anything unless otherwise told to do so.” Uh oh.
Peter blinked at the man. “Patrol obviously doesn’t count.”
“Oh no, I meant it for patrol. But it does also apply to your civilian life, of course.”
He blinked again. “So… I’m limited to saving cats from trees and helping little old ladies?”
“Yep. For a week.”
“A week!?” Peter screeched. “This is like… like… starvation! You’re gonna starve your child?”
“Peter, I’m telling you that you’re not allowed to fight for a week,” dad sighed, pinching his brow.
“Exactly!” He gripped his hair. “What do you expect me to do!? Not step in when someone’s getting mugged!?”
“If you see a non emergency then you call Oracle or someone nearby,” dad explained. “As long as someone isn’t actively about to die, you’re not allowed to interfere.”
“Man, I miss being dust.”
“Peter.”
“What!?”
Dad closed his eyes, gathering whatever it took to continue speaking. “I’m not arguing this. You’re banned from any fights for a week, that’s the end of it.”
“What if I’m cloned and I get into a fight with myself to reclaim my rightful place?”
“It can wait until next week,” dad started up the car again.
“What if Thanos or someone comes back with a vengeance?”
“The bats can fight them or you can wait until next week.”
“What if I get into a fight anyway?”
Dad just gave him a dead eyed stare.
“Alright, fine,” Peter grumbled.
They drove in silence for a few moments before Peter made a horrific realization. “Does this mean I can’t mess with Tim for a week!?”
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Matt had scoured Gotham for some sign of Beck. The man was slippery, far more than he gave him credit for. It took days just to find the records of the bus ticket Beck had purchased, giving away that he was hiding out in Gotham.
Of course the guy would decide to hide in a place that made Hell’s Kitchen seem like the safest place on earth.
There were no further clues for where he could’ve gone. It was dead end after dead end.
Matt had been staying at a hotel that reeked of blood and death. There wasn’t even a strong scent of bleach; the walls were probably visibly stained red.
Hell’s Kitchen had taught him to block out the chatter of a city’s heartbeat and to look for a single person in a crowd of thousands.
Gotham wasn’t anything like the place he called home. There were gunshots constantly stealing his attention. Screams, kidnappings, torture, suicides, fights, Matt heard it all in excruciating detail. It took everything in him not to react to the sudden noises, never mind being able to tune out enough to track Beck’s heartbeat.
It didn’t make sense. Why would Beck travel here of all places? It didn’t take a genius to realize the man was losing his mind, but still. Even a maniac had the self preservation to not willingly live in Gotham. Honestly, it was the kind of thing Peter would do. That is to say, not a wise decision and probably some sort of death wish.
God, Matt wanted to look for the kid.
He pushed down that innate desire. Matt had no way of tracking down someone who had no legal records. Peter Parker did not exist here. Matt didn’t know what name he might’ve been going by.
Maybe that was for the best. By not seeing him, not seeing if Peter was hurt, Matt could believe that he was okay. Matt could live in a world where Peter was happy, so long as he wasn’t proven wrong.
Matt exited his hotel and began his daily search for Quintin Beck.
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Two weeks ago in the Batcave
Dick was still recovering from his burn wounds, but at least he was finally able to walk around without wanting to curl up into a little ball and cry! Yay! Progress!
He used his newfound appreciation for the ability to move around by sitting in front of the bat computer, working with Tim to find whoever Beck and Murdock were. They’d both been slacking lately. Dick had been injured and banned from any bat work for the past week, while Tim was working on something with Young Justice.
The fact that he’d still yet to tell Peter about the searches weighed heavily on him. But when he’d almost died, Dick saw Peter hold true, raw fear. It was something he could never bear to see again. It was selfish, he was well aware of that; he accepted that.
Steph strolled into the Batcave like she lived there, hopping on the table in front of Dick. “Yo.”
“Hey Steph, what’s up?” Dick closed out the tabs on Beck and Murdock.
“Eh, same old same old,” she shrugged. “Oh! I keep forgetting, I need a favor.”
“What’d you need?”
“So, like a week ago, you remember when you almost died?”
“…Yeah, that doesn’t usually slip my mind,” Dick chuckled.
“Ugh. Every time you speak it just explains everything about Peter,” Steph lamented. “Anyways, so when you were unconscious, there was a bank robbery me and the batgirls got caught in while in civies.”
“Okay…”
“There was this really weird guy. Cass is pretty sure he was blind, but he took down all the robbers like nothing,” she explained, waving her hands around to further her point. “All we know is that 1. He can fight. 2. He’s probably blind. 3. He has some sorta super human reflex. And 4. He said he was a lawyer. Jay doesn’t buy it and thinks the guy’s a wannabe vigilante who calls himself ‘The Lawyer’ as a way to administer justice but honestly I think he’s just like a good version of Two Face.”
Dick blinked. “You get a name?”
“Nope.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck.”
“Woah, watch your fucking language.”
“Steph, this is serious,” Dick glared at her, knowing his frustration towards her was unjustified.
Steph quickly switched disposition. She was Spoiler now. “What’s going on? You know him?”
“Ran into him once before,” Dick bit the inside of his cheek. “I think he’s after Peter.”