Still Life

Peter is pretty sure he’s in Crime Alley.

Red Hood’s part of town if he remembers the comics correctly.

Because he's an absolute moron.

He enters the first unoccupied yet safe-ish looking building he can find and promptly crashes against a wall.

“Ok, think Parker. You need to figure out a plan to get back home.”

Home.

Except there’s no home left for him. No family. No friends. No one is waiting for him to come back at the end of the day.

Peter is trapped and there’s no one coming to save him. 

No one even knows he needs to be saved.

“Don’t- don’t think about home. It’s fine. Whatever. Just think of a plan to survive the next seventy two hours. Yeah- that’s- that’s it. That’s what they say. Just survive the next seventy two hours and you can think about the rest later.”

He pulls the broken mask off his face and shoves it in one of the suit’s side pockets. The fabric’s weight seems to burn his bruised leg but he ignores the feeling and pulls himself off the floor.

“I need to find water and a first aid kit. Then food and a way to access the internet.”

Peter makes his way out of the building once again. The streets are eerily empty but he can hear dozens, if not hundreds of people in the buildings around him. There are police sirens going off in the distance and he can hear several voices giving instructions to the general public to stay inside and not cause commotion. 

For a moment, he considers going back inside. The noise is almost too much to bear without the added protection from his mask and the air is so heavy he keeps having to blink aggressively in order to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes. 

Instead, he wanders for a while, letting his instincts guide him, as he scans his surroundings. The city is as decrepit as the comics made it to be, maybe even worse. All the windows have bars, which can't be firefighter-approved; half the buildings have demolition notices stapled to the doors and Peter is 90% sure there are people living in the sewer system.

He's close to giving up and going back to the abandoned building when he finds a small clothes donation bin next to a little Asian grocery store.

His instincts tell him to break the shitty lock on the container and take whatever he needs to make sure no one will notice the broken Spider-Man suit he's wearing.

His morals tell him that stealing his wrong and someone might need those clothes.

'I'll bring them back. Once I have enough money to buy my own, I'll wash them and bring them back. Maybe I can even buy some extra and add them to the pile.'

He ends up taking a handful of shirts and two pairs of pants that will probably be too big on him. There's also a pair of beaten up boots in the container. The soles are barely attached but he can find some tape and use the suit's boots as a thicker-than-usual pair of socks. It's not perfect but it will stop people from looking.

He puts on the least smelly pieces and makes his way into the little store. To his surprise, the store is bigger and more modern than it looks from the outside and there’s even a few customers sitting in the self-service section. The smell of coffee and spicy ramen pulls him toward the area before he realizes he has no money.

Biting back a sigh, Peter turns his attention toward the middle-aged lady working the cashier.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, could you tell me if there’s a library nearby?” The question doesn't quite stop her but it definitely catches her by surprise and Peter can feel the other customers side-eyeing him.

“It’s right across Old Gotham’s High School, kid.”

‘Right. That makes sense.’

“Uh, and could you tell me how I can get there? From… where we are right now?”

This time, the lady actually puts her notebook away. Instead she pulls out an old pamphlet from beneath the cashier and turns it towards Peter with a sigh.

“You get out of the Alley and you follow the main road into Old Gotham. You follow the signs all the way to the Old Gotham City Park. You turn left and you’ll see the mall.”

She points at a building that has been crossed over twice. The map's original key labeled it as a canned goods factory. Above it there's a scratched out ‘construction company‘ and next to it the word ‘mall’, all written in neat but elaborate handwriting. Peter notices that most buildings and even some roads have been crossed out and replaced with something else. 

‘At this point it's probably easier to print out an updated version.’

“Two streets down from the mall, you’ll find the Old Gotham High School”, her index finger traces the path with precision. Peter tries to memorize the instructions as she folds the pamphlet and puts it away. “It’s easier if you go by bus but they haven’t come into the Alley since the last Joker breakout so you’re better off just walking and saving the four dollars they’ll charge you for the three minutes ride. By foot, it will take you maybe an hour and a half to get there but they won’t be open today after all the bombings nonsense.”

“Oh, do you know what time they open tomorrow?” She sighs again and goes back to her notebook but Peter doesn’t move. He has already given himself away as an outsider, he might as well get all the information he can get.

“They open at nine and close at eight. They’re open everyday unless there’s a major breakout or aliens invade earth, which happens every other week.” 

A man sitting down in the self-service area snorts into his cup. The girl next to him gets up and starts putting away her things.

“The breakouts or the alien invasions?”

“Both.”

“Oh.”

A family approaches the cashier, arms full of products and the lady tells Peter to step aside so she can process their purchase. Whatever chance he had to ask for more information has been lost and Peter is left with no other option but to turn around and go back to his abandoned building. 

“Hey, boy!”

Peter turns around and is met with an older man standing right in front of him. He’s a bit shorter than Peter and he’s wearing a grey and red football shirt for some team Peter can’t recognize. 

“Uh, yes, sir?”

“You forgot your bag”, the man says, as he tries to hand him a small plastic bag. The other customers in the store seem to look away all at the same time, as if following some kind of unspoken rule.

“Uh, I’m sorry sir but that bag is not mine.”

“Yes, it is. You forgot it after talking with my wife by the cashier.”

The man says it with such conviction that, for a moment, Peter is convinced he had lost something. He looks down and checks if he still has the stolen clothes in his left hand and, yup, he’s still holding them.

“I’m really sorry sir but it’s not-”

“You forgot your bag, kid”, the man grabs his wrist and it takes all of Peter’s effort to not send the man flying across the room. The man wraps Peter’s hand around the plastic bag and forces his fingers into a tight fist before stepping back with a smile. “It is ok. I also forget my things sometimes. My wife says I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached to my neck.”

His wife (the lady at the cashier, apparently) snorts loudly but she doesn’t look in their direction not even once as she hands the change to the family in front of her.

“Uh, thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, kid. Tomorrow when you go to the library, ask for Miss Barbara. She studied with my daughter, Lia, and she’s a very nice girl. She will answer all your questions. If you make a library card, you get discounts in most stores in the city.”

“Oh, that’s… Really nice. Thank you, sir.”

The man was seemingly done with the conversation, as he turned around and went back to helping actual customers around the store. Peter took the opportunity to step out of the store and start making his way back to the abandoned building before nightfall.

Getting back to the building took him longer than he expected. As it turned out, he had wandered much further than he thought in order to get to the store and he had absolutely no idea where he was to begin with. There were also more people coming into the streets and it got darker and darker and Peter’s spider-senses kept going insane every time someone got too close.

After a quick perimeter check, he figures out that the building must be some sort of abandoned hostel. It's small, unlike most of the surrounding buildings, with only three floors. The bottom two floors are empty but the top one has clearly been occupied in the past and is probably being used as some kind of storage unit going by all the locks and bobby traps around doors and windows.

‘Better to stay away from whatever is in there.’

He ends up taking the floor below it. The windows are in surprisingly good condition and there's no leftover trash or bugs, something Peter is incredibly grateful for. There's also no furniture, which means no bed to sleep in but he'll take it if it means not having to sleep on the street.

Peter ends up sitting on the floor next to a window in what he's pretty sure it's supposed to be the kitchen. There's still some sunlight coming in so Peter takes the opportunity to finally open the plastic bag. 

Inside, he finds two pre-made sandwiches, one water bottle and one small box of cereal bars. There's also a small first-aid kit, the kind that has mostly band-aids but it also comes with a handful of antiseptic wipes and a singular roll of gauze.

Peter doesn’t want any of this. He doesn’t want to want it; doesn’t want to need it, but he’s also painfully aware he has no other options.

He takes off the dirty clothes he's wearing, along with the suit, and begins assessing the damage. The hole in his stomach is much smaller than he should be for a sword wound and it's no longer actively bleeding. There's also no sign of infection, something that makes Peter feel ridiculously lucky.

Once he's done with his stomach wound, there's not much left in the small kit he can use to fix the rest of his body. Instead, he uses one of the last wipes to clean up some of the blood from his suit and reminds himself to figure out a way to get access to hospital grade painkillers and extra bandages sometime in the near future.

‘Ok, what else is next on the list… I need to get some rest, get some more food, water and a way to access the internet.’

The internet.

Karen.

Peter jumps to his feet and does his best to fish out his facemask without dropping his half eaten sandwich. The lenses are too scratched to see clearly, the bottom half is hanging by a thread and most of the biological sensors are offline but the power is still on. He could cry of happiness.

“Karen, are you there?”

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Peter finds himself holding his breath and praying to an entity he doesn’t believe in for something, anything to finally work in his favor.

“Hello Peter. It appears I cannot access any previously known external databases or connect to a Stark Industries’ satellite.”

The boy lets himself sit back down, as relief rushes through his body. Karen’s voice is slightly glitchy but she sounds mostly functional and he can see her running through the suit’s last recorded input.

“Hi Karen. You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice.”

“I’m also happy to hear you are still alive. I’m afraid I cannot identify your current location and the suit’s sensors seem to have been damaged. Could you manually connect the suit to one of SI’s repair centers so I can begin to assess the damage and program proper repairs?”

Peter bites down on the half-eaten sandwich and tries to not sound as nervous as he feels. 

“Uh that’s kinda the problem, Karen. I think I won’t be able to access SI’s technology ever again, Karen.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Doctor Strange had to send me away, Karen. I… Everyone was gonna die if I stayed, so Doctor Strange sent me… somewhere where I wouldn’t, couldn’t mess up the natural stability of the universe.”

The holographic display in Peter’s suit glitches as Karen tries to process the new information. The lack of connection to an external server is clearly holding back the already damaged suit, causing Karen to run slowly and without much support. Peter eyes the autonomy level display in the corner and prays the suit doesn’t run out of energy before he can find a way of fixing it. He could really use Karen’s help right now.

“You mean we are in an alternative reality.”

“I guess so.”

There’s another glitch and this time Karen chooses to shut down most of the programs that were still running in the background. 

“I’m afraid my knowledge about alternative realities and multidimensional traveling is limited. Dr. Stark did not anticipate you’d travel to a different universe by yourself and, as such, I will need access to an internet server in order to elaborate possible strategies to ensure your wellbeing. In the meantime, can you tell me anything about the universe we are currently in?”

Peter chews through the rest of his sandwich before throwing the plastic wrapper back into the bag. 

“Yeah, uh, I’m pretty sure we’re in Gotham.”

“I’m afraid the only Gotham reference I can find in my database is a fictional city within the DC Universe”, Karen sounds disappointed as several images of Batman’s comic books fly across the suit’s HUD. “I will have to do further research once I manage to establish an internet connection.”

“Yeah, more information would be amazing, Karen, but you’ve got the reference right.”

The images disappear so suddenly that Peter can almost picture Karen slowly blinking back at him.

“I’m afraid I do not understand, Peter.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re in Gotham, Karen. Like, DCU Gotham. Batman’s Gotham. With the Joker, Catwoman, Robin, all of that.” The HUD goes completely dark and, for a moment, Peter is convinced the suit lost power in the worst possible moment. “Karen? Are you still there?”

“I advise you to find a computer with an internet connection as soon as possible so I can do further research. If we are truly in Gotham, your chances of survival have decreased immensely and we should leave the city as soon as possible.”

“Wow, love the enthusiasm, Karen.” Ok, maybe he was attacked by ninjas in the first five minutes of his existence in this universe but that doesn’t mean he will keep getting in trouble, right? There must be one universe where his Parker Luck doesn’t completely ruins his life, right?

“I’m merely sharing my findings based on the information I can find in my internal database, Peter. You should also find a way to repair the Spider-Man suit and wear it beneath your normal clothes at all times. The fabric will keep you warm and offer extra protection in case you get stabbed or shot.”

“Hold on, why would I get stabbed or shot?” Please let him not get stabbed or shot. He has had enough of it for a lifetime. He’s also not looking forward to putting the blood soaked, ripped to pieces suit back on.

“Because you are a superpowered individual in a new territory that, if your theory is proved to be correct, is extremely dangerous and full of superpowered criminals and an inefficient and corrupt police force. You should also not go out as Spider-Man before ensuring you have enough knowledge about your new enemies, the territory and other vigilantes operating in the area and you have regular access to first aid and sufficient nourishment.” 

“Right… I’ll work on fixing the suit.”

“And finding a way to buy enough food to sustain your enhanced metabolism”, and because Karen is far too dedicated to Peter’s wellbeing to let it go, a to-do list pops up across the suit’s HUD with the words ‘ensure sufficient daily nourishment (5k cal minimum)’ in bright red letters right at the top. 

“Heard you the first time, Karen.” If Peter rolls his eyes at her, no one is there to see it and Karen is already used to his bullshit anyway.

“Very well. Should we decide on a plan of action for tomorrow?”

Outside the sun has set completely and Peter wonders just how much time has gone by. The suit’s internal clock reads 3.56am and it’s supposed to be mid June back at home but the weather here it’s far too cold for it. 

“Uh, sure. I have clothes but they need to be washed sometime soon and I have enough food to last me until tomorrow morning. I also found out there’s a public library nearby. Hopefully they’ll have computers we can use. I can connect you there and we can try to figure out where we are and where I can find the stuff I need to fix my suit.”

“We should also work on your new identity”, Karen adds it to the high-priority part of the to-do list. Peter tries not to think too much about how many things she keeps adding to it.

“My what?

“Your new identity. You said Doctor Strange sent you to another universe. As such, you do not exist here. I recommend creating a new identity and all the necessary paperwork that normal civilians possess in this universe. This will allow you to move freely across the country or even internationally without attracting unwanted attention.”

“Right… That’s… That’s a good idea. I should also apply to jobs so I can get some money. That way I’ll be able to buy the tools I need to fix the suit.”

“That seems reasonable. In the meantime, you should try to rest.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“I will wake you one hour after sunrise. If you put the suit back on, I will be able to alert you in case of an emergency.”

‘She’s really not gonna let the suit thing go, is she?’

“Thanks, Karen.”

“You’re welcome, Peter. Sleep well.”

Peter wakes up feeling like he just got run over by a ferry. He blinks one eye at a time and grumbles as the scratched lenses press against his nose bridge. The floor beneath him is cold and he already knows his back is going to hurt the entire day.

Outside, the world is already wide awake and moving. Peter can hear cars racing by and people talking loudly from all directions. Somewhere in the distance there’s two dogs barking at each other.

He watches the soft sunlight enter the room and debates not moving at all. A piece of dust dances around him, causing Peter to sneeze abruptly. A shot spreads across his back and that’s his cue to get off the floor. 

“Good morning, Peter”, Karen’s voice brings Peter more comfort than he cares to admit. Waking up alone in an empty building in the middle of nowhere left him off balance and his spider-senses are clearly displeased with his current location.

“Morning, Karen. Anything interesting happened while I was out?”

“Nothing I could pick up with how damaged the suit’s sensors currently are. I recommend you eat something before you head out to find the local library.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

Peter pushes himself up from the floor slowly, hands pressing against the ground for balance. His joints pop as he lifts his arms over his head in a long, stiff stretch, causing him to wince. His back cracks in a few places, loud and sharp but the relief that comes with it is absolutely worth it. 

He grabs the little plastic bag off the floor and the sight of the half empty first-aid kit reminds him of his stomach wound. He peels off the top half of the suit and begins to slowly unravel the bandages from the night before. 

‘Please be healed. Please, please be healed.’

Laughter bubbles out of Peter when he sees that his stomach area, once torn and raw, is almost smooth now. No blood, no angry scars, just a pale, wrinkled patch where the wound had been. Faintly pink, like new skin after a bad sunburn, but solid. Whole. Practically good as new.

Peter runs his fingers over it, gently. No pain or aching. Just the expected tightness from a healing wound.

“Heck yes!”

“Your wound seems to be healing correctly”, Karen sounds relieved and Peter feels a bit bad for worrying her. He can only imagine how hard it must be for her to know he’s injured and not being able to help him or call for backup.

“Yeah! A few more hours and I’ll be good as new!”

“I would still recommend making safe choices and avoiding getting injured in the near future.”

“Yeah, I know, Karen. I’m not dying to jump in front of a sword any time soon either.”

Wounds checked, Peter moves on to breakfast and it doesn’t take him too long to get through three cereal bars and the rest of his water. He ends up stuffing the leftover cereal bars and the first-aid kit in the suit’s side pockets and puts away the suit’s gloves as well before reaching for the stolen clothes from the day before. 

“Hey Karen, any idea how I can throw away my bandages without outing myself as the new serial killer in town?”

“I would advise using fire to destroy anything that has been compromised with your genetic material. I would also recommend washing this room’s floor with bleach before moving out permanently, just in case.”

“Fire?! That’s not exactly discreet, Karen.” How the hell was he supposed to burn a bunch of medical equipment without catching anyone’s attention?

“But it is your best chance at maintaining the cover of being a regular human. If my knowledge of Batman’s MO is correct, he is not fond of interlopers, especially superpowered and highly trained ones.”

“Aw, Karen, you think I’m highly trained?” Peter could almost see Karen rolling her eyes at him. “Fine, I guess you’re right. First stop: somewhere I can burn this. Second stop: library. Do you think the mask is still capable of changing its appearance?”

“I wouldn’t recommend trying to expand it beyond its current size. What changes did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking something discreet, like a bluetooth earpiece or headphones? That way we can still communicate when I’m out in public.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

Peter watched his reflection in the kitchen’s window as the mask shrinked into two small bright blue earpieces. They looked like bulky hearing aids but, considering how many repairs the suit needed, he couldn’t really complain about it.

“Can you still hear me, Peter?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. I’ve adapted the suit’s new form to block some of the external stimuli but I’m afraid I cannot create any form of eye protection”, all of the sunlight and whatever weird fog was still leftover from yesterday’s bombings were going to be a bitch to deal with but Peter had put up with worse. He could probably deal with it for a few hours and, hopefully, the library would have AC or some kind of air filter.

“That’s ok, Karen. We make do with what we have and all that.”

“Then I think we’re ready to go out.”

The outside world is both better and worse than Peter remembers it to be. 

The sidewalk is cracked and uneven, littered with bits of trash and broken glass. There are already a few people walking around, rushing to work or to take their kids to school. The kids talk loudly, excited for the new day, but the adults keep mostly to themselves, heads held high and making sure no one gets too close. Everyone seems to walk in the same direction, towards the edge of the neighborhood.

Peter takes a hard turn in the opposite direction.

The further he moves into the alley, the more run down buildings he can find. Most of them are clearly (and illegally) occupied, despite all the vacation and demolition notices tapped across every other wall. Some of the notices are from 1994 and Peter wonders just how long they’ve been sitting there, waiting for some government official to realize the building was never torn down. 

Finally, he reaches what seems to be the official end of Crime Alley. There’s a small road leading to what looks like a freaking amusement park and it takes him a few moments to process the idea that anyone would build an amusement park right outside one of the poorest neighborhoods Peter has ever seen. Whoever is running the place seems to know it was a bad idea because the area looks practically abandoned, with broken signs and rust taking over most structures. 

Peter catches himself half expecting a murderous clown to jump from between the bushes before he realizes that he’s in Gotham and the Joker is a very real threat. The thought alone is enough to get him moving again.

“Try to find some flammable materials, Peter. We can use the taser webs to start a small fire.”

It takes him a few minutes of rummaging through the trash that littered the street but Peter manages to find a few old cardboard boxes and an empty can of paint big enough to hold everything. Karen guides him through the process and he can barely believe his eyes as the small flame grows enough to turn the bloody mess into ashes and then gets snuffed out without much effort. The process is eerily quick and, soon enough, he’s making his way back to the other side of the neighborhood.

Old Gotham isn’t much different from Crime Alley, except for the fact that Peter can finally see some form of public transportation.

The sidewalks are still littered with broken glass and the occasional spilled trash can but there are also more people on the street and a handful of two-story houses instead of just decrepit residential buildings. 

Just like promised, he also finds a few street signs pointing towards the park and the local high school. The subway is already packed full of people on their way to class or to work and, for a moment, Peter can almost pretend he’s back home, on his way to Midtown. All he’s missing is his ratty backpack and Ned by his side, talking his ear off about the latest lego model or last night’s patrol.

“If the instructions you were given are correct, the library should be just around the corner, Peter”, Karen’s voice pulls him back to reality and, sure enough, a tall brick building comes into view. 

There’s a big sign outside, like the ones he’s used to see in front of churches, announcing weekly storytime hours and study group meetings. The steps leading to the front door are chipped but, surprisingly enough, there’s also a ramp and a small wheelchair lift that looks completely functional if not a bit outdated. Above the main door there’s a small gold plaque that reads ‘Gotham Public Library, funded by Thomas and Martha Wayne for the benefit of the people of Gotham City in March of 1981’. 

The air inside the building is cool and still, carrying the faint, clean scent of paper and polished wood. The building is somehow much bigger than it looks from the outside and Peter is glad to find a gigantic informational board with a detailed (and seemingly updated!) map of the city and, right next to it, the library’s layout, complete with its own ‘you are here!’ checkpoint. 

A quick check tells Peter the library is mostly empty, with only five people inside, three of them on the first floor and the other two on the third floor. He ventures into the main area and tries to not look too out of place.

Before Peter can walk too far, a young girl with bright purple hair approaches him. She’s taller than him and her arms are full of bright tattoos of small mermaids and cats with wings and party hats. Her name tag reads “Rachel K - Junior Librarian”.

“Hi! Welcome to Gotham’s Public Library! Are you looking for anything in particular today?”

“Uh… Hi. No… I’m… I actually need to use a computer… If you have any available for public use, that is.”

Thankfully, Rachel doesn’t seem bothered by Peter’s apparently inability to form a coherent sentence. Instead, she smiles politely and gestures towards the main desk. 

“Sure! You’ll need a library card to sign in. Did you bring your own or do you want to create one now? It takes less than two minutes to create one and it’s completely free, all you need is your ID and a phone number.”

Right. Both things Peter doesn’t have without first having access to a computer. Great.

“I… I just moved here and I don’t really have my ID with me”, Peter does his best to sound casual as Rachel takes one good look at his clothes and forces an even bigger smile.

“Oh… I guess you can use a guest log-in for today but I’m afraid that it will only allow you to use the computer for an hour a day, compared to our library card which allows you to use them up to three hours.”

“Uh, one hour is ok, I guess.”

“Great! Let me show you where our computers are!”

Rachel walks him through rows and rows of perfectly organized shelves that seem to stretch almost all the way to the ceiling. Her shoes echo across the smooth hardwood floors and Peter is suddenly very much aware of every little sloshing sound coming from his broken boots. 

In the center of the room, there are wide tables made of what looks like solid wood, completely with a perfectly straight row of bulky CRT monitors, each one of them humming softly. Occasionally, one of the screens flickers faintly before going back to the oddly colored orange desktop background and chunky icons. Each monitor is standing atop a shiny plastic tower and there’s even a huge mechanical keyboard with chunky keycaps. 

“Oh my God, what is that?”

The words come out of Peter’s mouth and, before he can apologize for judging their clearly underfunded library, Rachel turns to him with an even bigger smile.

“I know! We could barely believe it when Mr. Wayne said he would send us the latest model before the new school year! Twenty brand new computers for a public library is insane but this model just came out three months ago and it has all of the software the kids need for school!”

“What?”, it’s all Peter manages to say as he feels the proverbial sirens begin to wail in his head. She must be joking. It’s the only option. There’s no way he ended up in a universe with the technological capacity of a bad 90s movie. Still, Rachel moves on as if nothing is wrong; as if Peter’s hopes and dreams aren’t being crushed right in front of his eyes.

“Oh, right, you said you’re new. Uh, Mr. Wayne is like… our biggest local celebrity. He’s not really known outside of Gotham despite being a billionaire. He’s the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and funds most of Gotham’s public services. He’s super nice and will pay off all your medical and student debt if you ask him to but he’s also the biggest airhead ever. Like I don’t even know how he’s still alive because last week he told a reporter from Gotham’s gazette he thought tuna wasn’t fish because he has eaten a tuna steak before and steaks are made of meat.”

“Miss Keller, what have I said about gossiping in the library?”

“Oh, morning Mrs. Smith. I was just telling our new guest about the amazing donation we received from Mr. Wayne.”

Mrs. Smith is a little old lady, dressed in all black and carrying a cane. She’s short and her mostly grey hair is pulled back into a long braid. She takes one good look at Peter and it’s like she can see through all of his lies.

“I see.” Peter wants to turn around and never come back if it means he won’t have to be subjected to Mrs. Smith’s staring. “Do you require assistance with the computer or is Miss Keller free to return to her duties, Mr…”

“Uh, Peter. Just Peter, please… And I’m ok with the computer, you don’t have to waste your time with me, thank you.”

That seems to be the right answer because Mrs. Smith gives him a short nod and turns her attention back to Rachel. “Very well, Mr. Peter. Miss Keller, there’s a full return cart waiting for you at the front desk.”

“I’ll get right to it, Mrs. Smith.” Rachel waits for Mrs. Smith to get out of sight before turning back to Peter. “Uh, sorry about that. Mrs. Smith knew Mr. Wayne’s dad, Dr. Thomas Wayne, because he did her husband’s heart transplant back in the day and she gets all overprotective whenever we talk about any of them.”

Peter tries to remember what he knows about Batman’s parents but all he can think of is that they got murdered. He wonders if he ever read anything about them besides their deaths or if the comics just used it as a cheap plot point.

“That’s ok… I don’t want to get you in trouble though”, he also really needs to get to work and take advantage of the fact that there aren't that many people around.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Mrs. Smith looks like she’s gonna hit us with her cane at all times but she’s actually the coolest one of us. She used to be a total rebel back in her day and she organized a ton of protests against our shitty police force.” She hands him a small piece of paper and gestures to one of the computers, “Anyway, here's your login information. It will automatically log out once your time is up. Now, I really need to get going before Mrs. Smith comes back, but if you need anything, feel free to come and get me.”

“Uh, thanks, I will.”

He finally sits down at one of the computers and takes a deep breath before removing one of his earpieces. The earpiece quickly transforms its shape into a small usb-like device and Peter promptly plugs it in.

“Ok Karen, let’s do some research.”