Chapter 2

Peter snapped his fingers at Aunt May as she was ignoring her breakfast and staring at her phone with a smile on her face.

"Hey, May," Peter said. "I told you I have something important to tell you."

Aunt May was wearing the red and white uniform of the diner she worked at. She wasn't all that young and the diner didn't pay her all that well but they needed all the money they could get; the rent wasn't going to pay itself.

"Yes, Peter," May said, still smiling at her phone. "What's up?"

Peter sighed, his stomach twisting. He definitely didn't want to know why Aunt May always looking at her phone with such a big grin on her face but he would have preferred to know that instead of telling her what he was about to now.

"I... remember when I told you about the Wayne Internship," Peter said.

"Yeah," Aunt May said, immediately putting her phone down and looking directly at him. "And like I said, Bruce Wayne is not a good influence and I don't want you anywhere near him."

"Yeah," Peter said, buttering his toast. "About that..."

"Peter," Aunt May said firmly.

"Look," Peter started.

"Peter," Aunt May said her voice even more firm.

"I got fired from my jobs," Peter snapped.

"Peter..." May said, her voice softer now.

"Now I know you don't want me doing work at all," Peter said. "But that won't change the fact that we have bills to pay and no way to pay them."

Peter sighed. "You're working enough as it is," Peter said. "And I can see the bags under your eyes. You shouldn't be working this much..."

"And you shouldn't be working either," Aunt May said. "You're just a kid Peter. You should be studying and hanging out with your friends in the afternoon not worrying about bills. It was hard enough giving you permission to work to work and now this."

Peter stretched out and held her hand. "I'm fine May. Look. I know this city's dangerous but..." Peter sighed. "We have to make ends meet. Please trust me on this."

"You sound just like your Uncle, you know that?" May said with a gentle smile. She gently pulled away from Peter's hand and sighed. "You know I trust you Peter, but that Wayne boy he always finds himself in dangerous situations and I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I know," Peter said. "That's why I won't be working under him. I'll be working under a scientist called Curt Connors. I did some research and he used to work with dad. I think I'll be fine."

"I know," Aunt May said. "But have you seen the news lately? Wayne buildings have been targeted. What if something happens to you?"

"That's why I'll be working in the main building," Peter said. "The one in the middle of Gotham. That place is like a fortress."

Aunt May was silent. "Yeah but... you know me I can't help but be worried."

"Yeah I know," Peter said. "But I'll be fine. Don't worry about it." Peter smiled at her. "Besides, it pays really well."

Aunt May chuckled. "You should've started with that."

...

As was usual during the late hours of the morning, Master Bruce was sitting in front of the Batcomputer. Alfred placed his breakfast platter on the side as medical files popped up on the giant screen.

"What warrants the need for you to infringe people's privacy today?" Alfred asked.

"The man I dealt with at the factory had one eye," Bruce said. "A feature not shared by many people in Gotham."

"I see," Alfred said. "So, you're scouring through medical records to ease your search?"

"I already found him," Bruce said.

"Oh."

"Gil Bradfield," Bruce said. "For a member of a terrorist organisation he's doing an awful job of hiding himself."

"Says here he lost his eye in a chemical incident," Alfred said. "He barely had enough money to sue and could only afford check-ups. He used to live in an apartment on the safer side of the city and now..."

"He lives in an apartment right next to the narrows," Bruce said. "I know where I'm going tonight."

"Wait Master Bruce," Alfred said. "There's something you might want to see."

"What's that?"

"It says here that the hospital Mr. Bradfield visited was the Thomas and Martha Wayne memorial hospital," Alfred said.

Bruce was still. "That doesn't make sense. The hospital was built for the sole purpose of providing affordable healthcare to the citizens of Gotham, there's no way he couldn't afford the bill."

"Something's not adding up," Alfred said.

Bruce squinted. "And I intend to find out what."

...

She was in bed again. The doctors said she hadn't gotten out of bed no matter who tried to push her out of it. Gordon was right, that they should both give her space but that didn't make it any less hard.

Peter stared at her from the window, wanting to do nothing more than to open it and wrap her in his arms but he knew he couldn't do that. He ran a red gloved hand over the window before putting on his mask, the Wayne Tower building looming in the distance.

...

The first thing you'd notice about Curt Connor's laboratory was the table full of chemicals and notepads with formulas scribbled in. The second thing you'd notice are the boards littered with hastily put together sticky notes. Yet, somehow, maybe because it was surrounded by the sleek and clean Wayne building with its rows of laboratories that lined this floor, the lab didn't feel as messy as it looked.

"Mr. Connors," Lucius Fox said, the glass door sliding open. Curt perked up and saw the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprises with a boy that looked to be about 16 wearing a lab coat staring at his laboratory and the neighbouring labs with their glass walls like a kid in Disneyland. "This is the intern Mr. Wayne and I have been talking about, Parker."

At the mention of his name, the boy snapped to attention and turned to face Curt.

Peter extended a hand. "My name is Peter Parker, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I'd return the greeting," Curt said. "But as you can see I'm a little tied up at the moment."

Peter noticed the stump that was once his right hand and immediately threw out his right hand. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't notice."

Curt smiled. "You'd be the first. Don't worry about it."

They shook hands. "The pleasure is all mine, Parker."

"I'll leave you two to it, then," Lucius Fox said with a smile as he left the lab.

Parker walked towards one of the whiteboards, scribbling down the formula in his notebook.

"Peter Parker, huh?" Curt said. "I take it you're Richard Parkers son?"

Peter nodded, turning to face him. "Yep. I heard you used to work with him. My dad, I mean."

Curt nodded. "Yes, he was an excellent scientist, passionate about his work. He would have made millions if it wasn't for that accident."

Peter looked at the chemicals on the table, mouthing out their names.

"I see you have his passion for learning, too," Curt said with a chuckle. "Since you don't seem to be hearing me."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Peter said. "It's just... I'm being paid for this so I want to get this right."

"You don't have to worry about that," Curt said. "You're a very intelligent boy."

Peter chuckled. "My grades say otherwise."

"Grades are just an arbitrary test of intelligence," Curt said. "Anyone can be a genius with just enough work. Don't worry about the formulas, just tell me, what do you know about my work?"

Peter cleared his throat. "Um... let's see. Your research is on human and animal DNA, you're trying to fuse animal DNA with human DNA."

"Yes," Curt said. "I'm sure you've read the papers? You already know the drill."

Peter nodded. "Yes."

"Well," Curt said. "Let's get to work then."

"Wait, wait," Peter said. "Before we start... would... would what we're doing here be able to heal paralysis? Like spinal injuries and..."

"That's the end goal," Curt said. "To be able to heal any human malady by integrating the DNA of various creatures. Is that all you have to ask?"

"No... uh one more question," Peter said. Curt nodded, beckoning him to go on. "Would you... be able to remove DNA elements from your body? Like let's say someone had the DNA elements of a cow... or... a spider. Would this research help remove them?"

Curt chuckled. "Well, I'm sure once we figure out how to add these elements into a human body we'll be able to remove them. Now let's get to work, Parker."

...

Batman and Robin stood in front of the door. Night was about to fall and the evening glow spread through the craggy hallways of the derelict apartment building. The state of the building reminded Robin of the abandoned apartments in Crime Alley he used to camp out in during the cold nights.

A soccer ball rolled its way in front of Robin, a little boy about his age walked into the hallway and froze in his tracks when he saw Batman and Robin.

The apartment door opened, Robin grinned at the boy and kicked the ball back at him.

The boy waved at him; Robin waved back.

"Focus on the mission Robin," Batman said.

They stepped into the cramped doorway of the apartment. A hastily put together coat rack stood in the corner. Cockroaches scuttled on the walls, the wallpaper was starting to peel off and the tiles had cracks in them.

"Stay put," Batman said. "Our one-eyed friend isn't expected to be here in a while. Perfect for a little training exercise."

Robin rolled his eyes, another training exercise. They were fun ones like combat training and gun dismantling but then there was detective work, criminology and physics. Actual physics. Sure, he didn't have to go to school but going through those thick books in the library with Bruce watching over him like a hawk was even worse. At least Alfred gave him some ice cream afterwards.

Bruce examined the house, searching through every nook and cranny. Meanwhile, Jason looked around the house while he waited. This guy really lived in the dump (like he was one to talk), dusty tiles, peeled wallpaper. Jason saw pictures of him in a military uniform with a bunch of friends, a picture of him surrounded by what seemed to be a dozen people, he was young, around 18. As he followed the pictures he saw that the man was surrounded by less and less people until it was just him with an eyepatch and medals pinned to a black jacket. Jason had met a lot of homeless people in Crime Alley, a lot of them were vets. This guy seemed to get a better end of the deal with his apartment, the rest weren't so lucky.

Bruce came back. "Follow me. Keep your eyes open. Observe and tell me what you see."

And Jason observed. There was dust everywhere, for one, even on the photos and fridge. A few boxes of junk food laying here and there. They went through what few rooms they were and underneath the bed there were...

"Whoa, cool," Jason said, grinning at the guns.

"I disabled them already," Bruce said.

Jason frowned. "Bummer."

Eventually they were in the living room.

"What did you see?" Bruce asked.

"Dust," Jason said. "Lots and lots of dust."

"Robin," Bruce said firmly.

"Fine," Jason said, sighing. "He is... was a soldier."

"We knew that before coming here," Bruce said.

"Judging by the dust he isn't around often," Jason said. "He only comes around once in a while to eat or whatever."

"Good, what else?"

"That means whatever or whoever he's working for is either very far away," Jason said. "Or in a difficult place to ."

"But where?" Bruce asked. "Where is he working?"

"How should I know?" Jason asked. "I can't read minds."

"Open your eyes," Bruce said. "Observe."

Jason looked around, walking around the house and then he saw it.

"One of the clothes," Jason said. "It's made out of that material, um..."

"Neoprene," Bruce said. "The Master Planner works underwater."

Bruce pressed some buttons on his gauntlet, Jason looked at him with a huge grin on his face.

"So, was I good or what?"

"Adequate," Bruce said. "You can do better."

"Oh, come on! I noticed the neowhatever before you did," Jason protested.

"I noticed it as soon as I entered," Bruce said, eyes on the gauntlet.

"That's because you looked at everything before I did!"

"Get down!" Batman shouted suddenly, pushing Jason out of the way.

A bullet struck Bruce in the hip. He stumbled on the floor. Bradfield started to reload his gun but Robin was faster, he threw his Batarangs at the guy, striking him in the wrist. Bradfield growled in pain. Robin grinned. He leapt in the air, kicking him in the face. Bradfield reached for the gun but Jason kicked it away, tackling him to the floor. Gil tried to headbutt him but Jason dodged and put a thumb straight into his empty eye socket. Bradfield roared in pain but Jason wasn't done yet. He started punching him across the face, punching and punching him until Bradfield's face getting more and more bruised and his blood started to stain his knuckles.

"Robin," Batman called out, but his voice was distant. All Jason could hear was the sound of his fists against flesh, and the screaming of the man.

"ROBIN!" Batman growled, he shoved Jason off Bradfield, pushing him to the floor. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Robin looked at the bruised and bloodied face of Gil Bradfield and Bruce's face contorted in rage.

"I... he shot you," Jason said.

"That doesn't mean you beat him inches away from his life!" Batman roared. "We need to interrogate him!"

"You're too violent, you lack discipline," Batman said, lifting up Bradfield and making him lean on his shoulder. "We'll talk about this when we get home. I never should've brought you in. You're a criminal." Batman said, staring straight at Jason. "Just like the rest of them."

...

"Maybe if we adjust the formula like that and..." Peter started scrawling on the chalkboard and began running the tests on the computer. Curt smiled. In just a few brief minutes, Peter went from not knowing where the DNA samples were to walking around the lab like he had been a part of this lab for as long as Curt had.

Curt used his good arm to pat Peter on the back. "You pick up fast, Peter. You're just like your father you know that?"

"Thanks," Peter said, scratching his nose.

"I'm surprised you're not asking more about him," Curt said. "I thought you'd want to know more about him. He unfortunately passed away when you were very young, didn't he?"

"I don't really want to know," Peter said with a chuckle. "Don't get me wrong I love my dad, I miss both him and my mum and for a while they felt like a missing piece I needed to fill but I had my uncle and my aunt and they helped me through all of that."

"I see," Curt said, feeling his right-hand tingle. "You're very mature for your age. Responsible, too."

Peter chuckled. "Oh, you don't know the half of it."

It was at that moment they heard a knock on the glass. Curt and Peter turned to see a man in a black suit with slicked back hair leaning on one leg, grinning and waving at Curt.

Curt's expression soured. "You test out the new formula. I'll talk to him."

Peter nodded. "Sure thing."

Curt opened the glass door. "What is it you want, Sawyer?"

"That ain't no way to greet an old friend," Sawyer said, holding the door open and limping into the lab. "Specially, since I had to limp all the way into this shithole." Curt blocked him from entering.

"We talk outside."

Sawyer rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Who's the kid?"

"None of your business," Curt said, closing the door behind and talking to Sawyer in the hallway. "What is it you want?"

Sawyer grinned. "Look at you, Mr. Hardass. Walking around this place and talking to me like our organisation isn't the only reason you can see that cute little son of yours."

Curt clenched his fist. "What the hell do you want?"

"Results," Sawyer said. "Results. You're using Wayne money and the boss's and you're still not getting results."

"You saw what happens when we try and rush things," Curt hissed. "You saw what happened to that kid!"

Sawyer grinned. "And you know what'll happen if we don't get our results. Imagine what would happen if the world knew about the experiments Curt Connor's was up to just for that tiny little arm of his."

"You bastard!" Curt growled.

Sawyer tapped Curt's cheek. "Time's running out, Curt. Better get to it."

Sawyer limped away. Curt walked back into the lab, rubbing his eyes.

"What's up?" Peter asked.

"Nothing," Curt said. "Nothing at all. It's time to go home, right? Time's up."

"Sure thing," Peter said. "My Aunt's going to kill me if I'm late. See you tomorrow?"

Curt smiled. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Parker."

...

On his way back home, Spider-Man looked down and saw a few people running, screaming out of the butchery that was a few blocks away from his place. The head butcher, Salman was throwing knives inside and shouting something in Hindi.

Spider-Man landed. "What seems to be the problem, sir?"

"There's a jinn, a shaytaan in my freezer," Salman said in his heavy Indian accent. "It's eating all my food."

"I'll check it out," Spider-Man said.

"You better," Salman shouted, shaking his fist. "I paid good money for all that meat."

"Alright boss," Spider-Man said in an attempt to calm him down.

The butchery looked like a scene out of a horror movie. Blood was smeared all over the place, cow intestines and chicken livers plastered on the wall. Glass was littered everywhere and the plasma tube dangled hypnotically from the roof. A trail of half-eaten pieces of meat lead through the kitchen and into the freezer room where the door ominously hung open.

"You're going to have to pay good money for all of this, Mr. Khan," Spider-Man said. He walked through the kitchen and opened the fridge door. Kneeled over, tearing into the meat like a wild animal with its mouth red from the meat it hungrily lunged its face into was the same creature Spider-Man ran into the other night at the rooftop party.

When the light shined on its face, the monster screeched. Spider-Man's spider sense buzzed. The monster lunged; Peter ducked but he was too slow. The monster sliced across his face. Luckily it only tore out his mask. The monster bounced around the room like an agitated moth, knocking over pots and pans. Spider-Man launched a web that attached itself to the monster's leg. The monster pulled and tugged; Spider-Man was dragged across the floor but he used the two edges of the fridge's doorframe to keep himself from being carried off.

The monster screeched desperately, crying and whining.

"Yeah, yeah save it for later," Spider-Man said, grunting under the weight. "We'll hand you over to the folks at S.T.A.R Labs and see what they have to say about you."

But then the monster turned its face and Spider-Man felt his stomach sink a little. There was once a time when Jason caught a bat in a mousetrap. Peter remembered it's desperate screams as it tried to escape and the fear in its eyes. When Jason or Peter tried to let it out it lashed out of them, Peter still remembered the scratches on his hands. For some reason or another he loosened his grip on the creature. The creature still kept flailing around. Spider-Man raised his hands, he was trying to think of a way to reach the creature. To say something to calm it down.

Suddenly police sirens rang. Red and blue lights flashed across the butchery. The creature cried, slamming against the doorway and burst through the glass windows of the butchery.

"Wait, wait!" Spider-Man called after the creature. He gunshots firing and the creature screeching. Spider-Man dashed through the butchery and swung towards the creature but he was too late. A gunshot struck the creature, it stumbled in its flight but it kept on flying into the night, the moon shining across its wings. Spider-Man tried catching up to it but it was too late.

"What the hell was that?" said a cop. Spider-Man slammed his fist against the floor, wishing he figured out what was happening earlier.

...

Bradfield felt water splash across his face. His eyes snapped open and he had to twist his face into a painful grin when he saw who was standing in front of him.

"Where's the kid?"

"I'm the one asking questions here," Batman said.

"You benched him huh?" Bradfield said. "Lotta anger in his eyes, kinda like you. Hell of a puncher too. Face hurts like hell."

"It's going to hurt even more if you don't talk," Batman said. "Who do you work for?"

"I told you, the Master Planner," Bradfield said. "You're not getting anything more out of me."

"I already have enough," Batman said. "Gil Bradfield, you served in the US Army for 7 years during that time you lost your eye in a shrapnel incident. You were discharged, dismissed and sent back to Gotham. The benefits weren't enough so you applied for the Wayne Veteran Program."

Bradfield spat. "And I didn't get anything. Turns out the higher ups were busy embezzling funds and nobody was there to stop em."

"They were dealt with," Batman said. "Why didn't you reapply then?"

"Oh, c'mon Batman," Bradfield said. "You've been in this city for long, you know what happens when someone bad gets thrown under the bus. They're just replaced with someone worse. To make matters worse, the hospital bill skyrocketed. Told me they weren't getting enough funding and to make matters worse, Mr. Wayne ain't here to oversee anything. People are saying he's out the country, skiing in Sweden or lord knows where."

Bradfield stomped his feet against the ground. "There was a time I believed in Bruce Wayne." He chuckled. "Like there was a time I believed in Harvey Dent. But the truth is they're all the same. Buried underneath all the niceness, all the talks of change are just rotten rich bastards who only want to turn a profit and don't care about the little guy."

They sat on the cold rooftop in silence. Bradfield grinned. "I'm already too far gone," Bradfield said. "Might as well spill."

He turned to face the Wayne Incorporated tower, looming high above Gotham, the big W in the centre watching over the city below.

"The Master Planner is going to expose the truth about Gotham," Bradfield said. "Gonna expose the truth behind that big building in the centre. And once the people find out just how rotten Gotham's founding fathers are."

Bradfield grinned. "Gotham ain't gonna be the same again."

To be continued...

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