The Smart Play
Peter had made a mistake.
A big one.
The weight of it sat heavy on his chest as he moved through Gotham’s streets, his body on autopilot, his mind running through every way this could go wrong.
He had made a deal with the Joker.
And now, he was stuck waiting, hoping that a man who should not be trusted would somehow help him find Malik.
It had seemed like his only option at the time. He had been desperate, running in circles, hitting dead ends while Malik was somewhere out there, alone, probably scared. He hadn’t known what else to do.
But now, with some distance from that decision, Peter realized something.
He had rushed in without thinking. Without really thinking.
There had to be a better way.
And he was going to find it.
Peter’s brain worked best when he focused on what he knew.
Fact one: Malik was missing, and no one in this city cared except for him.
Fact two: The Joker was dangerous, unpredictable, and could just as easily sell Peter out as he could help him.
Fact three: Batman wasn’t going to help. Peter had been in Gotham for months and had yet to have a real conversation with the guy. He wasn’t going to magically show up now.
But Batman wasn’t the only one in the city.
Peter stopped walking.
His breath caught in his chest as a thought hit him.
Robin.
Not the one he had met once before—not Nightwing.
No.
Tim Drake.
Peter didn’t know much about him, but he knew the basics. The important things.
He was the smart one. The one who figured out who Batman was all on his own. The one who relied on strategy and intelligence more than brute force.
And if there was anyone in Gotham who could help him track down both Malik and keep the Joker from screwing him over? It was him.
Peter exhaled slowly.
Alright. New plan.
Step one: find Red Robin.
That was easier said than done.
Peter had no access to the Batcomputer, no way to pull up patrol schedules or track movements. But he knew how he patrolled back in New York. He knew patterns. Knew how to watch for signs of movement in the city.
So, he paid attention.
For two nights, he stayed quiet, out of sight, watching for any sign of Red Robin. And then—on the third night—he saw him.
A shadow moving across the rooftops.
Peter waited for the right moment, then moved.
Swinging was too obvious, so he climbed instead, pulling himself up onto a ledge just as Red Robin landed on the next building over.
Peter took a breath.
Then he stepped forward.
“Hey.”
Red Robin’s head snapped toward him, body tensing immediately. Peter raised his hands, palms out.
“Not looking for a fight,” Peter said quickly. “Just need to talk.”
Red Robin’s posture didn’t relax.
“And you are?”
Peter hesitated for half a second before sighing. “Spider-Man.”
Red Robin’s eyes narrowed behind the mask. “Yeah, I got that. What do you want?”
Peter clenched his jaw. “I need help.”
They moved to a quieter spot.
Peter leaned against a rooftop vent while Red Robin stood a few feet away, arms crossed.
“Alright,” Tim said. “Talk.”
Peter ran a hand down his face. “I—look, I screwed up. There’s this kid, Malik. He’s missing. I’ve been trying to find him, but I kept hitting dead ends, so I—”
He hesitated.
Tim’s eyes narrowed. “So you what?”
Peter exhaled sharply. “I made a deal with the Joker.”
Tim froze.
Then, slowly, he lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“You did what?”
Peter winced. “Look, I know it was a bad idea.”
Tim lowered his hand, eyes sharp. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Peter swallowed. He hadn’t really said it out loud yet.
“I was out of leads,” he started. “I’d been searching everywhere, shaking down every scumbag I could find, and nothing. No one had even heard of Malik. And then, I saw him. Jack Napier. Sitting in this shitty bar like a normal person. And I just—”
Tim’s stare was cutting. “And you...”
“I talked to him,” Peter admitted. “As Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. He didn’t know who I was. We just… talked.”
Tim’s jaw tightened. “And then?”
Peter hesitated. “Then, I figured out who he was. And I—” He exhaled. “I asked for his help.”
Tim’s arms dropped to his sides. “You asked Joker for help?”
Peter dragged a hand through his hair. “I know how it sounds, trust me.”
Tim didn’t look convinced. “You really think he’s just going to help you out of the kindness of his heart?”
“No,” Peter admitted. “But at that time I was too out of it to even think about anything better, and then it hit me, so I started looking for other ways. You were the only one I could think of that could potentially help. But I didn’t tell him anything important! Just that I was looking for a missing kid.” He hesitated. “And that I needed his kind of connections to find him.”
Tim stared at him.
Then, very calmly, he said, “You’re an idiot.”
Peter sighed. “Yeah.”
Tim paced for a second, muttering something under his breath before turning back to Peter.
“We need to fix this. Now.”
Peter straightened. “So you’ll help?”
Tim shot him a look. “Of course I’ll help. I’m not letting Joker do whatever the hell he’s planning while you sit here waiting for him to throw you a bone.”
Peter didn’t argue.
For the first time in days, he actually felt like he had a chance at winning this.
And he wasn’t going to waste it.
Peter had expected Tim to hesitate. To maybe take a second and consider whether this whole thing was worth his time.
Instead, the guy barely paused before saying, “We need a plan.”
Peter blinked. “That’s… it? No more yelling at me for making a deal with a literal supervillain?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Tim said dryly. “That was stupid. But we don’t have time for a lecture. You already made the deal, which means Joker is in play whether we like it or not.” He crossed his arms. “Now, tell me everything you know.”
Peter exhaled, forcing himself to focus.
“Malik’s about fifteen, been living on the streets for a while. No records, no family I could find. Last time I saw him, he was scared of someone—someone big. I think whoever took him has ties to Gotham’s underworld, but I don’t know who.”
Tim nodded, processing. “And Joker? What exactly did you say to him?”
Peter shifted. “Just that I was looking for a missing kid and that I needed his help.”
Tim’s brow furrowed. “And he just… agreed?”
Peter shrugged. “He seemed amused by the whole thing. I don’t think he actually cares about helping, but he likes messing with people.”
Tim sighed. “Yeah, that tracks.”
For a moment, the two of them stood there, Gotham’s cold night air pressing in around them.
Then Tim spoke. “Alright. We have two problems. One—we need to find Malik before it’s too late. Two—we need to control the Joker’s involvement, or at least limit the damage he can do.”
Peter crossed his arms. “You have a way to do that?”
Tim’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Not yet.”
They moved locations. The rooftop wasn’t the best place to strategize, so Tim led Peter to an old, abandoned building—one of his temporary safe houses.
Inside, Peter watched as Tim pulled out a small laptop, booting it up in seconds.
“You’re actually carrying a Bat-laptop around?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tim didn’t look up. “It’s not a Bat-laptop. It’s mine.”
Peter smirked. “Right. Totally different.”
Tim ignored him, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Okay. First step—tracing Malik’s last known location. You said he vanished a couple weeks ago?”
“Yeah,” Peter confirmed. “I checked all his usual spots, but nothing.”
Tim nodded. “Alright. Let’s start with nearby security cameras.” He pulled up a map of Gotham, overlaying it with digital markers. “Most of the Narrows is a dead zone, but there are a few places with working cameras. If we can find footage of him before he disappeared, it might give us a lead.”
Peter watched as Tim hacked into one of the city’s traffic cameras like it was nothing.
“You do this a lot, don’t you?”
Tim smirked. “I have two older brothers. If you don’t learn how to outsmart them, you get left behind.”
Peter huffed a small laugh but didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on the screen, watching as footage flickered to life.
They scanned through days’ worth of videos, piecing together Malik’s movements.
“There,” Peter pointed suddenly. “Pause.”
Tim stopped the footage. On-screen, Malik was walking down an alleyway, looking over his shoulder like he was being followed.
Peter’s stomach clenched.
“Play it forward,” he said.
Tim did.
They watched as Malik kept walking—then tensed. A second later, a dark figure stepped into view. The image was too grainy to make out details, but whoever it was, they weren’t small.
Malik turned to run—
And then the screen went black.
Peter cursed under his breath.
Tim exhaled sharply. “Whoever took him knew exactly where the cameras were.”
Peter clenched his fists. “So now what?”
Tim stared at the screen for a moment before closing his laptop.
“We get answers another way.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “And how do we do that?”
Tim looked at him.
“We go undercover.”
Peter had expected Tim’s idea to be complicated, full of intricate moving parts. Instead, it was simple.
They needed information, and the fastest way to get it was to talk to the people who actually knew what was going on—low-level criminals, street dealers, anyone who had their ear to the ground.
Tim had done it before.
Peter, not so much.
“You’re terrible at this,” Tim muttered under his breath as Peter adjusted his disguise—a worn hoodie and a fake cigarette he kept forgetting to hold properly.
Peter shot him a glare. “Not all of us are trained in spy shit.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Just act casual. And don’t say anything unless I tell you to.”
Peter scoffed. “Yeah, yeah. Trust me, I know how to talk to criminals.”
Tim gave him a look but didn’t argue.
They stepped into a small, dingy bar—one of the places Tim had marked as a possible source of information.
The smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke clung to the air.
Tim led the way, walking straight up to the bar and ordering a cheap drink, playing the part of a regular. Peter followed his lead, ordering something equally awful and trying not to make a face when he tasted it.
Then, they waited.
Minutes passed.
Then a man slid onto the stool next to Tim. He was older, scruffy-looking, with the kind of expression that said he’d seen way too much of Gotham’s worst.
“You been askin’ about the kid?” he muttered.
Tim didn’t react, just took a sip of his drink. “Depends who’s asking.”
The man huffed. “Look. I don’t know who you are, but if you’re smart, you’ll drop it. The people who took that kid? They don’t like being looked for.”
Peter’s grip on his glass tightened.
Tim, however, remained perfectly calm. “You got a name?”
The man hesitated. Then, finally, he muttered, “Gaskill.”
Peter frowned. “Never heard of him.”
The man let out a low laugh. “Yeah. That’s the point.” He pushed back from the bar, getting up. “I’d stop poking around if I were you.”
Then he was gone.
Peter glanced at Tim. “Gaskill?”
Tim nodded, finishing his drink. “New name. But a name’s enough to start.”
Peter exhaled. They were getting somewhere.
Now, they just had to make sure they got there before the Joker did.