Chapter 17
BATCHAT
Barbara (05:45pm): Bruce is out of town. Again.
Jason (05:46pm): God, now what?
Barbara (05:47pm): Another emergency meeting at the Hall of Justice. Something to do with the Green Lanterns, I think. Things will get tight tonight with you guys at the school.
Tim (05:48pm): if you need us, we can come back. my cold is almost completely gone.
Steph (05:48pm): and make you miss your opportunity to snoop on peter? never
* * *
“In and out, quick as you please,” Loki says behind Tony Stark’s face and voice. He demonstrates this with a flourishing snap of his fingers that’s close to the sort of thing Tony would do. “As soon as I’m done with your teachers, we’ll pull a disappearing act back to your little hovel and I’ll leave you to recover. You’ll need it.”
Peter follows Loki on the sidewalk leading up to the school, one step behind. It’s full to the brim with students, parents, and faculty, bustling in a way that’s out of place in the fog. It’s strange seeing a school busy at night. It feels wrong, somehow.
Or maybe that’s just Peter’s potential headache talking.
“So how are you able to just appear?” Peter asks Loki quietly. “I know there are others, but I don’t hear them sometimes. It’s hard to think of them. They get fuzzy. Like dreams when you first wake up. You can remember them, but then they’re just gone. Can I make them appear like you?”
“No,” Loki replies immediately. “I’ve died several times. I know the paths back to this realm like the back of my hand, and I’m borrowing against your own life force to be here. The others don’t have that ability, save for the witch.”
Peter pauses. “Okay, that sounds bad.”
“There won’t be any lasting harm. I’m rather dependent on your continued survival, after all,” Loki says, distracted. “But you will feel like you’re dying. As will I, for the record. I’m not fond of putting myself at risk. You should be honored.”
“Oh, good. As long as I only feel like I’m dying, I guess,” Peter says dryly. “This is a bad idea, we should turn back--”
“Too late,” Loki says. “We’re already here. And your friend has spotted us. We can’t exactly flee into the night now, can we?”
He’s right. Tim and a tall, brown skinned man with dark hair and blue eyes are watching them walk towards the school. Tim’s focus is almost entirely on Loki, but the blue eyed man is watching Peter closely. It seems like he recognizes Peter from somewhere, but Peter’s not sure how that’s possible. He’d recognize Tim’s dad. Or, he amends, his older brother. The man is maybe ten years older than Tim, maybe a little more or less. He’s built like a champion gymnast, which isn’t unusual for the rich and well to do who have time to dedicate to rigid gym routines. But like Tim, he doesn’t carry himself the same way the other parents or students do.
Peter is again struck by how stupid this whole plan is when Loki smiles at Tim and claps his shoulder. “Tim! The kid’s told me all about you. It’s good to see you face to face.”
Tim manages a polite smile despite being obviously startled. Maybe he was expecting someone similar to Peter. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Stark. This is my brother, Dick."
He motions towards the athletic man standing beside him. Dick Grayson is dressed casually, a simple button down shirt, khaki pants, and black, polished loafers. Nice, but simple and comfortable. He almost looks shabby compared to Loki’s suit. A Kiton bespoke, Peter realizes he's seen Tony wear one before. Not often. Just the once, really, when Peter almost signed the Accords.
Dick Grayson looks Loki up and down. He doesn’t seem overly pleased by what he sees, but he holds his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stark. Peter is a great kid from what I’ve seen.”
“Of course he is, he’s mine after all,” Loki says, shaking Dick’s hand. His grin is indulgent, as if he’s doing Dick a favor by speaking to him. It’s not at all like Tony’s real smile, and the difference irks Peter.
“Right,” Dick says, drawing the word out. “Here, let me show you where we’re supposed to wait.”
“Lead the way,” Loki says.
The two men step into the school. Dick holds the door open behind himself for Tim. Loki does not extend that same courtesy for Peter. The door slams shut in his face and he pauses, rolls his eyes, and pulls it open before following Loki into the building. Much to his horror, this does not go unnoticed by Dick and Tim, who share matching frowns in his direction.
Time to distract them, then. He turns to Tim. “Where’s Duke?”
“Getting some stuff from his locker,” Tim says, the frown disappearing. “Come on, the students are supposed to wait in the gym. Let’s go find him.”
“Yeah, sure,” Peter says. He spares a look at Loki.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Loki says. “Shoo. Have fun.”
Peter aims a flat, unamused look at Loki and leaves with Tim. He feels like he shouldn’t leave the literal God of Mischief alone with his teachers, but he can’t figure out a way to stay and babysit him either. He has to trust Loki actually has his best interests at heart.
Which, now that he thinks about it, is a terrible fucking idea.
* * *
Loki watches Peter and the other boy leave, and lets out a small sigh of relief. Peter’s constant suspicion and worry was starting to grate on his nerves. Better that he’s gone for the moment. The sigh catches Dick’s attention, and he focuses on Loki, his expression unreadable.
"That's a very nice suit, Mr. Stark," Dick says.
"You like? I picked it up during my last trip to Italy. There’s a lovely little shop in Rome I visited," Loki says. “Almost forgot to bring it home. Remind me to give you his information. He’s booked for the next six months, but I think I can put a good word in for you.”
“It seems like you can afford a lot of nice things,” Dick says after a long moment, breezing past Loki’s offer.
“I’m sensing a bit of judgement in your tone,” Loki says, idly brushing off one of his sleeves.
“I’m just curious about a few things. You’ve got a new suit, nice sunglasses, a pair of shoes that I know cost more than my car,” Dick says, still with that casual tone, though there’s an edge of anger entering it. “But Peter is in second hand clothes fresh off the rack of a thrift store.”
“He’s an independent soul. He prefers it when I don’t help him too much,” Loki says casually. He’s not exactly wrong, of course. The best lies are those that are mostly true.
That answer, oddly enough, doesn’t seem to endear Loki to the man at all. “You’re his father?”
“Guardian,” Loki says in that casual, grandstanding tone Tony Stark used around him so often in the days before Loki was taken back to Asgard. “But we do share the same eyes, I always thought. Brown eyes run in the family.”
A surprising pause follows that.
“His eyes are hazel. Almost green,” Dick states simply after a long moment. The look he gives Loki is cool and considering.
Loki blinks in genuine surprise. The boy’s eyes are brown in the soul stone; his true color as far as he knew. When had they turned green? He frowns in thought, then realizes that Dick is watching him for a reaction.
“Guess I’ve never noticed. Hey, thanks for showing me where everything is. I appreciate it.” Loki plasters on a press ready smile, pushing past him and into the cafeteria where the rest of the students and their parents are lingering.
* * *
BATCHAT
Tim (06:00pm): so how’s it going?
Dick (06:03pm): This guy is Peter’s family?
Tim (06:04pm): as far as we know, yeah
Tim (06:10pm): judging by your typing, I’m going to go out on a limb and assume the talk you guys had went poorly
Tim (06:14pm): okay, wow, it must’ve gone really bad, what happened?
Dick (06:15pm): Peter deserves better. I’m tempted to just grab him and take him home. We can get away with it. We’re Waynes.
Tim (06:16pm): two things
Tim (06:17pm): first, you’re probably right
Tim (06:18pm): second, peter won’t come willingly and kidnapping is still HIGHLY illegal. I’m pretty sure Bruce will call a Family Meeting if we commit prosecutable felonies in his absence
Jason (06:19pm): Please commit a felony so I can watch the old man try and explain how it’s different when you do it.
* * *
Tony all but flees from Dick the moment he steps inside the cafeteria, apparently eager to put some distance between them. Dick is both annoyed and relieved by that; something about the man just rubs him the wrong way, even without the casual and very obvious neglect. There’s a tension between Tony and Peter that bugs Dick, and he can’t quite figure out what it is.
He pours some distance of his own, leaning back against the wall of the cafeteria and pulling out his phone to text Tim.
“Well, fancy meeting you here, little bird.”
Dick looks up from his phone, startled, and stares at Selina Kyle. She slides over to his side and leans against the wall beside him, nursing a wine glass half filled with something red and expensive. Because of course Gotham Prep serves wine at a parent-teacher conference. This is like being at one of Bruce’s galas without the benefit of being able to leap out of a window or slide into a wall as a way to avoid insufferable guests.
“Please tell me you’re not here to scope out potential victims,” Dick says tiredly.
“Hardly. Your father has rubbed off on me in more ways than one---”
“Oh my god, gross,” Dick says, mutely horrified.
Selina continues, smirking slightly at his reaction. “Not in that way. I’m here for the conference, believe it or not.”
Dick stares at her, confused.
Selina holds up a class schedule. “I’ve taken in a young lady recently. She’s a student here. I’ve just finished meeting with all of her teachers, in fact. Most of them seem like functional alcoholics.”
“You adopted someone?” Dick asks, curiosity briefly scattering his dark mood.
“Mmhm. She’s tight lipped about where she came from. The girl’s a puzzle, but she’s clever, and she has quite a lot of potential. With the right guidance, she could be my match easily.” Another pause. “Better, maybe. I don’t say that lightly.”
That’s honestly fascinating. Selina had always been a loner, save for the brief times she’s come to help Batman, which were often brief, passionate affairs. Dick vividly remembers Bruce and Selina’s enemies-to-rivals-to-lovers dance when he was a kid; that same heated thread winds its way through their conversations even now, though they’ve both calmed down from their early days. And thank god for that.
“No offense, but you don’t seem the type,” Dick says after a moment.
Selina smiles at him. “I didn’t think I was either. Like I said, Bruce’s bad habits are rubbing off on me.”
“Please stop saying that.”
She smirks, but mercifully changes the subject. “Who are you here for?”
“Tim and Duke,” Dick says. “Tim strong armed me into it and I’m already regretting it.”
“It should go quickly for them, at least. They’re clever boys,” Selina says.
“Yeah, I’m not worried about that part,” Dick says. “I’m more concerned with keeping my cool around these kinds of people.”
His eyes follow Tony Stark around the room. The man has a glass of wine in one hand and is using the other to make some grand, intricate gesture in the air while a group of the rich and famous watch on fascinated. Tony says something, and the men burst into laughter, with one clapping his shoulder. Every last man in that group, save for Tony, has invested in, funded, or otherwise used their wealth and influence to make Gotham a worse place. The man is clearly much more at ease with them than he is with Peter.
Selina follows his gaze and hums quietly. “He seems charming.”
“He’s an arrogant asshole,” Dick mutters darkly.
“If you start disliking everyone here based on that criteria, you’re in for a long night,” Selina says, fighting back a small smirk. She checks her smart watch. “Fortunately, I won’t have to suffer alongside you. Good luck, little bird. Try not to have too much fun.”
“Yeah, see ya, Selina,” Dick says. He doesn’t hear Selina leave.
Tony is on the move again, and Dick follows him with his eyes. It’s the way he moves, Dick realizes. This is a man who doesn’t walk often, despite keeping in shape. There’s a stilted quality to his movements that he hides well when he’s being watched, but which become all too apparent when left alone. He ducks into a crowd and seems to disappear.
“Mr. Grayson?” a prim woman says beside him. “You’re next on the list to speak with the faculty.”
“Oh, right,” Dick says, distracted. Damn, he lost sight of Tony. He sighs. “Okay, lead the way.”
* * *
BATCHAT
Barbara (07:01pm): How’s it going?
Dick (07:02pm): Normal. Tim, you forgot to turn in a ten page history report last week.
Tim (07:03pm): wow announce it to the whole chat.
Dick (07:04pm): You can turn it in by Friday for half credit.
Tim (07:05pm): pass
Dick (07:06pm): Do it or I ground you from patrol. Steph, your teachers love you and your grades are perfect
Steph (07:07pm): lmao, of course they are
Tim (07:08pm): dick wtf.
Duke (07:09pm): hahaha
Dick (07:10pm): Duke, you’re literally at the top of your class. Awesome job!
Duke (07:11pm): damn right I am
Dick (07:12pm): In other news, Selina Kyle apparently has a daughter enrolled in your class.
Tim: (07:13pm): what
Duke (07:13pm): what
Steph (07:14pm): what
* * *
The gym is full of students, hastily laid out tables, and several very bored teacher chaperones more interested in their phones than their jobs. Peter sits alone, in the dimmest part of the room, head buried in his arms on the battered table. What had started as a brief tickle of pain in the fire station is rapidly becoming a roaring river of fire pounding against the back of his eyes. He looks miserable enough that most of the other students leave him alone.
Someone sits beside him, on his right. Another person sits on the other side of him. Peter sits up and blinks up at his visitors. It’s Tim and Duke, of course. Tim is watching Peter closely, while Duke digs through his backpack, quietly cursing to himself.
“You look terrible,” Tim says. There’s a wary gentleness to his tone that hadn’t been there before, and Peter fights back a fresh wave of annoyance at Loki.
“It’s just a headache. I get them sometimes,” Peter mutters, rubbing his eyes. He blinks at his friends and starts to say something when he notices Duke staring at him intently. Or rather, staring around him intently. “Uh.”
“You’re alone,” Duke says, as if in revelation. “It’s just you.”
Peter stares at him, confused. “What?”
“Uh, nothing. Nevermind,” Duke says. He sighs, getting up and slinging his backpack over his good arm. He jogs for the doors. “I’ll be right back. I forgot something.”
Peter makes a small noise of acknowledgement, caught somewhere between a grunt and ‘yeah, okay’ before massaging his temples. Tim watches him for a long moment.
“Peter, are you alright? Is everything okay at home?”
Peter sighs. He should have seen this coming. Of course Tim is going to be worried about him after that little performance in the hallway. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. You’re not seeing Tony at his best, for the record. At all.”
“I thought I smelled alcohol on him earlier,” Tim says after a long moment.
Peter’s headache gets just a bit worse. And with it, his temper. “Yeah. Look, I’m not interested in talking about it. Drop it, all right?”
He’s never used a sharp tone on his friend, and he regrets it immediately. Tim blinks at him in surprise, but nods. “Okay. I’ll drop it. Let’s just chill for a bit.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Peter mutters, putting his head back into his arms.
* * *
Duke rifles through his locker, searching for his missing notebook. It has all of his homework in it for the week and he’d rather not go back and do it all over again if he can help it. He finds it, finally, and sighs in relief, shoving it into his backpack and then slamming the locker shut. He turns, walking past a half open utility closet, and starts to head back to the gym.
Duke stops dead in the hallway. There’s a man with two faces standing in the hallway in front of him. Duke never heard him approach. He’s half translucent, with the edges of his face and body fuzzy at the edges. Well, that’s not quite right: the face and body he’s standing near is as real as can be, but the face behind the face very much isn’t. It’s as if a man’s face and body is being used as a bodysuit by another.
“What the fuck are you?” Duke asks. The man inside the man reminds him of Gnomon, his biological father. Who also happens to be an evil god that tried to kill him.
“Right now, I’m a friend,” the man says. There’s an odd accent to his words that Duke can’t place; it’s old and dignified and very condescending. “Did you know that you were fated to die tonight?”
“What?” Duke asks, warily taking a step back. If a fight starts, he’ll be at a disadvantage with his arm in its sling, but he can work around that. Hell, he can fight with both hands tied behind his back if it comes to it.
“I couldn’t make out the shape of the threat, of course. I would’ve had to borrow the boy’s body to do it. The others get so very touchy if I do that,” the man says. He trails off, thinking, then shrugs. “No matter. I want you to remember this: the letter is a lie, and death is coming for you all.”
Duke frowns at him, confused. “Yeah, I’m going to need you to--”
The man snaps his fingers. A bright green flash illuminates the hallway, blinding Duke and overwhelming his meta senses. He staggers back and away from the man, blinded, but still ready for a fight. He’s Signal, Batman’s day time guardian; fighting blind is a requirement to wear the bat symbol. But when he was fighting blind before, he could at least hear his opponents breathe or move. He’s fighting a ghost who does neither.
To his eternal credit, he manages to get one good hit in. It’s like hitting steam, except the vapor is freezing to the touch, chilling him both body and soul. The man huffs, apparently unhurt, and suddenly Duke is lifted into the air. He hears the utility closet door swing open behind him.
“Striking me does nothing. It does, however, hurt your friend. A pity you won’t remember that until much later, too.”
“What the fuck are you--”
Another blinding flash. Duke’s thrown unceremoniously into the utility closet. The door slams shut behind him. A third flash knocks him out cold, his memory is blasted clean of the past five minutes.
Loki hums quietly to himself before walking back down the hall towards the gym, adjusting his cufflinks.
Amazing what the wrong man at the right place can do to a timeline.
* * *
BATCHAT
Tim (07:32pm): duke where are you?
Tim (07:33pm): it’s been like twenty minutes
Tim (07:36pm): Dick, is Duke with you?
Jason (07:37pm): Tim is officially worried if he’s using proper grammar.
Dick (07:38pm): No. Why?
Tim (07:39pm): Something isn’t right.
* * *
Peter is quietly suffering in agony when he suddenly jumps in place, gasping for breath and clutching his side. It feels as if he’s just taken a solid punch to the ribs. Not enough to really hurt him, but enough that he can feel the start of a bruise. The skin grows taut and tender, and he amends that statement. It feels like he just got popped by Cap; hard enough to hurt, but not enough to leave last damage.
Tim, naturally, is highly fucking concerned. He drops his phone down on the table and shifts closer, gripping his shoulder. “Peter? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just a muscle cramp,” Peter mutters, sitting up. His headache is getting steadily worse, and this new mystery bruise isn’t going to do him any favors. He winces, sucking in a careful breath.
Tim frowns at him, and starts to speak when a voice cuts through the crowd.
“Kid!” Tony yells from the doorway. It sounds so much like him, that Peter actually perks up, momentarily forgetting who is using that voice. “Over here, come on!”
Peter stands, relief flooding through him, turning to face Tony. He’s here. He found him. He’s---
He’s Loki. Loki quirks a brow at him from the doorway, waving at him impatiently. Dick Grayson is standing behind him, looking at Tim. Peter clamps down on a sudden wave of disappointment, takes in a deep breath, and walks over to him, keeping his back straight and stiff to avoid the mysterious bruise that’s forming under his shirt.
Loki slings an arm across Peter’s shoulders the moment he’s within reach, and Peter tenses immediately, briefly glaring daggers at him as the man pulls them up the hallway, past a utility closet and a row of lockers. His pace is just short of too fast, and he puts distance between them and Dick and Tim.
"Try not to make a scene," Loki mutters quietly. “Your friend and his brother have been watching us like hawks all night.”
He can see Dick watching them from the corner of his eye, and takes in a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. His hands are still clenched, and it takes a surprising amount of effort to tamp down on his frustration enough to loosen his fists.
“How much longer do we have to stay here?” Peter asks.
“I only have one more meeting,” Loki says, guiding Peter away from Dick and Tim. “Which is fortunate for you. You’ve been getting paler by the minute ever since we got here.”
“It’s just a headache,” Peter mutters, reaching up to rub his eyes. Loki quirks a brow at Peter, and Peter fights back the urge to punch him, frustrated. He raises his voice, just a bit. “Just make it quick so we can leave before you embarrass me anymore, all right?”
“Someone’s a little touchy,” Loki says idly, pulling his arm away as they stop outside the door. He turns to face Peter, quirks a brow, and points a finger in his face, half an inch from his nose. In a stern, quiet voice, he says, “Try not to pass out. I’ll disappear if you do and then you’ll have more than just a scholarship to worry about. Harness your strength just a little while longer.”
Great. Peter scowls, batting his hand away hard and glaring up at him. “Make it quick.”
Loki is about to make a retort when he freezes, looking past Peter and frowning. The lazy arrogance in his eyes is gone in an instant, replaced by sharp awareness and cunning. A second later, Peter’s senses go utterly mad, filling him with an electric sense of wrongness in an instant. He can feel the hair on his arms stand straight out.
The hallway has a skylight running the length of it. Peter often ignores it--what’s the point of a skylight in a place as dreary and rainy as Gotham?--but right now it has Loki’s full focus. A second later and Peter joins him.
Something is watching them. Something almost as big as the Hulk and just as green, with glowing red eyes. It looks as if a crocodile stood up on two legs, shrank its head down to match that of a man with a particularly large underbite. His eyes flash yellow in the dim light of the hallway, his gaze flickering back and forth between Dick and Peter. He snarls when he realizes he’s been spotted, revealing rows of jagged fangs. He raises one clawed fist and smashes through the glass and frame as if it had been made of tissue paper, raining metal and glass down into the hallway, bringing with it the steady rain and fog outside. A sharp, twisted length of steel slams into the ground near Tim. In another time, Duke Thomas would have been standing beside his brother, as always.
The lizard man leaps into the hallway, dropping to the ground with enough weight to crack the fine marble tiles covering the hallway. Dick and Tim leap out of the way in smooth, almost identical jumps, acting on pure instinct. Part of the ceiling collapses in front of them, dropping a pile of metal, brick, and glass in the hallway. It puts them on one side of the lizard man and Loki and Peter on the other.
“Killer Croc,” Dick hisses from the other side of the hallway. “Shit. Tim, your phone--”
“Peter, run!” Tim shouts over the rubble.
Killer Croc’s eyes flash dimly in the dark, a bright vibrant blue, then yellow, and he whips his head back and forth between Dick and Tim and Loki and Peter, clearly considering his targets. He’s gripping a glass vial in one hand. Peter can smell the fumes leaking out: burning diesel and rotting lavender.
Fear toxin.
“Man, it’s good to be back,” Killer Croc growls, stalking towards Loki and Peter. They back away from him, practically in lockstep with one another. Peter’s head is starting to throb, his headache worsening. Whether from the fumes, the stress of manifesting Loki, or dealing with the parent-teacher conference is anyone’s guess. Maybe all three. “Years in Arkham, locked in that dank cell with doctors poking around in my head for fun, and then this weirdo in a dark suit comes in with this blue rock and starts talking to me. I get my freedom, and all I gotta do is find someone at this school.”
He holds up the vial and grins. “This is gonna make it easier. Who gets the first dose?” He sees where Peter’s focus lies and grins, mean and ugly, all teeth and sadistic glee. “Guess you’re a good start.”
He pops open the vial with one clawed thumb, and stalks towards Peter. Peter stumbles back, disoriented by his headache, his exhaustion, and the giant man lizard coming towards him armed with a substance that even Batman is wary of.
“Then come and get me,” Peter shoots back, whirling around and sprinting down the hall.
He can hear the monster’s snarling laugh, and the crunching pounding of its feet as it begins to chase him. This side of the school should be essentially abandoned, at least. Thank God Tim and Dick ended up on the other side of the rubble. He can fight this guy here if he needs--
Killer Croc suddenly screams in pain. Peter skids to a stop and turns to look behind himself. A twisted piece of broken steel is sticking through Killer Croc’s thigh, the sharp end of it coated in dark red blood. Loki stalks down the hall towards him, lifting up another hefty piece of steel in both hands. Killer Croc whirls around to face this new threat, flinging the toxin at Peter and aiming a heavy swipe of his claws at Loki. Peter staggers back and away from the toxin. The vapor hits him hard and he coughs, covering his mouth and nose.
Loki ducks under Croc’s arm before slamming the steel bar hard across his jaw. The lizard man is rocked back onto his heels and his wounded leg, letting out another one of those startled, furious screams.
Loki stalks past him, grabs Peter’s arm, and hauls him bodily towards the nearest fire exit. “We need to leave now.”
“We need to help everyone here--” Peter protests. He tries to pull his arm free, but he’s shocked to find that his hands and arms are trembling. His heart rate is steadily rising and with it, the headache and a vague sense of panic.
“No. You’re in no condition, and it’s about to get much worse for you. We need to get you back,” Loki says. He steadies Peter, annoyed and frustrated, and starts to haul Peter towards the nearest bus station.
Peter, shivering from fear and panic, stares at the buildings towering over them in the street, certain that they’re about to collapse on top of him. “I didn’t think you could fight like that.”
Loki sniffs. “Then you have not seen an Asgardian prince at war. Move.”
His tone brooks no argument, and Peter, trembling with anxious fear, can’t find the strength to fight him. They leave the school grounds just as the first squad cars skid to a stop outside the school.
* * *
BATCHAT
Barbara (07:50pm): Guys, what’s going on at the school? Every cop in the city is on the way there.
Dick (07:51pm): Killer Croc armed with fear toxin
Dick (07:52pm): Duke’s MIA, Tim and I are on it, we need help.
Barbara (07:53pm): Cass and Steph are on the way.
* * *
Loki hauls Peter into the fire station, and over towards his bed. Peter is drenched in fear sweat, twitchy and panicked in a way that he can’t explain. The adrenaline chases away his headache a bit, but he knows that’s only a brief reprieve; the moment his fear dies down, the pain will return tenfold. He staggers for the bed and the blankets, burrowing into them like a child fleeing monsters in the dark, as if the blankets offer any kind of sanctuary.
Maybe they don’t, but it’s the best he has. He curls into a fetal position, fighting back waves of anxious fear, certain that his death is moments away but he’s not sure why he thinks that. If his head was clearer, he’d recognize the symptoms of a potential panic attack.
He hears footsteps approach. Loki keeps his distance, setting a water bottle on the floor beside Peter’s head. “You will want to drink that before you collapse. It will help with the headache.”
Peter peers out at him from within the blankets. He’s not wearing Tony’s face anymore. “Why are you helping me?”
“Because I intend to collect on our bargain, and I can’t very well do that if you’re dead,” Loki replies. He nudges the water bottle with the toe of his boot. “Drink. Ride out the fear. You weren’t truly exposed. You’re merely experiencing what I am.”
Peter snakes out a hand to grab the water bottle, draining it in one go. He pauses, frowning up at Loki. “You’re this scared?”
“No. Yes. Somewhere between. What happens to one of us, happens to both of us. I know what you’re feeling, at least to a muted degree,” Loki explains. He backs away. “My end of the bargain is complete. Yours will follow soon. Rest.”
He disappears in a flash. And suddenly, Peter can feel the others around him again. He wasn’t aware of their disappearance, of how empty the fire station felt a few seconds ago. There’s murmuring concern, snarling accusations, and finally, a red hand that reaches out and gently taps his forehead.
* * *
BATCHAT
Barbara (08:30pm): Status update, guys.
Dick (08:36pm): The parents, staff, and kids have all been evacuated.
Barbara (08:37pm): Good work. Where’s Tim?
Dick (08:38pm): Helping Duke. He’s really out of it.
Barbara (08:39pm): Fear toxin?
Dick (08:40pm): Maybe. He was going on about letters and death and ghosts. He wasn’t making a lot of sense.
Jason (08:41pm): Sounds like fear toxin to me. I’m on the way. I can get him somewhere safe.
Barbara (08:43pm): Got it. Any sign of Killer Croc?
Dick (08:44pm): Croc is MIA. We found a lot of blood and an empty vial of toxin in the hallway where he had Peter and Tony cornered.
Barbara (08:45pm): Any sign of them?
Dick (08:46pm): No. We did hear a lot of screams in the hallway after we got separated, but with the fear toxin, that’s to be expected.
Dick (08:47pm): Tim’s having a rough time with it.
Barbara (08:48pm): I’ll keep an eye out.