Chapter 24: Late night conversation

I hate writing dialogue so here is a chapter of nothing but dialogue.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"This fucking asshole!"

Jason slammed a fist down on the workbench he stood in front of. Banged up and covered in notes and tools, it was tucked away in the corner of the tiny one-car garage he had led them to. The chase had been long, taking them through the underground and even, at some point, up the roofs but, eventually, they had managed to lose the Bats.

The place was even smaller than Peter's apartment and, with it being in East End, it was surrounded by a large amount of unsavory businesses. Despite the walls of the cramped room being made of rough stone, they could still occasionally hear sounds of partying and various arguments breaking out. Then, perhaps it was simply Peter's hearing being too good, once again.

Still, as he sat there, staring at his fully healed hands and blistered feet, he could not bring himself to feel anything negative about the storage unit. He was alive, he was free, and so was Jason.

But they know your face now and, soon, they will know everything about you.

The stray thought made sense. With the kind of technology the vigilantes had used against them, they surely had the means to look into his identity. Not that he had much of one anymore… 

He groaned, resting his forehead on his knees, grimacing when he felt the tears and scuffs on one of his only pairs of jeans. Yet another thing for him to worry about. All those issues and he still did not have his suit ready. Good job, Spidey.

"He didn't even look into it before going after us!"

Another slam, the sound of tools clattering to the ground. Peter rolled his head to the side to peer at his friend, who was still bent over the work table, his entire body shaking with rage. His face sported a few cuts and bruises from everything they had been through that night and his usually immaculate leather jacket was covered in dust and grime.

Memories of the crumbling buildings rose in his mind and he found himself wanting to push it away for now. It was still too fresh for him to reflect on it. Haunted by the sounds of pillars of stone bearing down on civilians and the feel of a chase through the night, he tried to distract himself.

"Weren't you expecting them to come? You talked about lures" He asked, his voice sounding distant. Too much had happened in the span of a few hours and, now that they were settling down, every feeling he had been repressing in order to survive was hitting him at once. "You know them, don't you?" He had to keep talking to push the memories away, had to busy himself with a task or a puzzle.

Jason turned around so fast he accidentally sent yet more tools flying. They joined the clutter of pieces, screws and metal already spread on the ground from his earlier flash of anger. "What-", the young man began, tone low and dangerous. As abruptly as his temper rose up, it fell back down and he shook his head, taking a deep, long breath.

"I have had run ins with them before." The young man eventually replied, bending down to pick up a bent screwdriver and glaring at it as if it had decided to break by itself. "We don't like each other very much." Without looking, he tossed the tool behind his back. It landed in the only trashcan of the room, on the other side of his bike. Obviously, he was extremely familiar with this place.

Why sleep in a container when you have access to a room, even one like this?

"Those run ins didn't go well, I assume." The younger of the two noted absently, plucking at the tears on his pants. He could probably fix them up, with a bit of time.

The mattress he was sitting on was too thin to stave off the chill from the cold ground it laid upon. He tugged his jacket closer to him, shivering slightly. Perhaps that was why Jason had chosen not to live here. The cold was simply dreadful.

A shipping container couldn't be much better, though. 

"Aren't they vigilantes?" He asked after a few seconds of uneasy silence. "Why did they go after us without proof?"

Jason snorted. "Because I was there." He shrugged, bitterness obvious in his tone. "I told you, we have history." By then, he had turned to face him fully, resting the back of his thighs against the workbench and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He sounded confident but the words did not make full sense.

"It can't be that bad," Peter protested, shaking his head. "You aren't that bad. You want to help people. It just doesn't make sense."

His friend's expression shifted to one of deep sadness. The silence between them stretched for a while. Outside, they could hear the wind blowing and, sometimes, the sound of sirens.

"People change, I suppose." Jason sighed. "I did some terrible things not too long ago, before we met."

That sounded extremely familiar and Peter could not help but be reminded of his own past, of the people he had tried to help. Some of them were consumed by mental illness, some saw no other options or where completely overcome by their own mutation.

Everyone had a different reason behind their actions but, still, he strongly believed anyone could change. Or at least, that anyone should have the opportunity to. He thought the bats did as well but, now that he had faced them and ran from them, he was not so sure anymore. To him, it had looked a lot like they were shooting before asking questions.

"You're not doing them anymore though, right?" He insisted, tapping the cold ground with his fingers, sticking and letting go in a rhythm. He wanted to be swinging right now. He missed New York.

His friend grinned, a smile without mirth, with no trace of joy in it. "I cut most of it out, yes. Hard to go around committing crimes when you're dragging a brat along with you."

"You're not that much older." Peter glared at him, not having the energy to make his frown last for more than a few seconds.

Bantering seemed an almost impossible task, he was too tired to think properly. His feet were cold, the socks damp and his boots long forgotten, probably lying in some dark alleyway, covered in snow and frost. Maybe someone would find them and make something out of the remnants. It was a lot more likely they would end up in a dumpster, if anyone even bothered.

"You would be surprised," Jason grunted.

Slowly, he pushed himself away from the workbench and walked around his damaged bike to crouch in front of what seemed to be a tiny electric cooler. He flipped the top open and took out two glass bottles, filled with an amber, bubbly liquid. Peter spluttered when he handed him one, not sure what to do.

"I don't-"

The older boy opened his bottle with one of the many knives he seemed to constantly carry around and swung it back, taking in a long gulp of beer. "You're old enough." He rasped, wiping foam off his mouth with the back of his hand. "And tonight has been really shitty."

"I- no thank you."

Jason shrugged. "Suit yourself." He took another long swig, spoke again: "To answer your question properly, yes I stopped doing most of it. I still am thinking of taking some deliveries and spying jobs, they pay good." Another drink, then: "I think I'm done with the killing though."

Peter's blood ran cold. He had suspected his new friend had a particularly dark past, and may even have ended someone's life before, but to have it confirmed in such an offhand way was more than disturbing.

What about Natasha and Tony? What about Captain America? They have killed before as well. And this is Gotham, not New York.

Still, he shifted on the tiny cot, wrapping his arms around his legs, trying his best to avoid the older boy's gaze. He did not want what he was feeling to hurt his friend. The conflict remained however, no matter how hard he tried to smother it.

"Are you still- Would you still-"

Jason sighed, draining the last of his beer and popping the one he had offered Peter open. He turned the bottle in his hand, peering down at it as if it held the answers to whatever he was looking for.

"I would." He said after a long time, eyes still angled down. "But not to anyone." His voice was stronger now, full of rage and determination. "I would kill one of those assholes making this city their playground, and I would have no remorse for doing it." He spat the following sentence out, disdain wrinkling his nose: "Joker and Penguin, Scarecrow and that asshole Bane. Fucking Riddler too, and that psycho Strange-"

"Strange?" Peter perked up, heart skipping a beat. "Stephen Strange?"

"-and… What? No." Jason frowned at him. "I don't think that's- no." He shook his head, taking a drink out of the second bottle. "Not the same Strange, I suppose. But anyway. I would kill those guys." He paused for another swig, wiped his lips again. "Wouldn't kill the guys and gals under them though. I think I'm past that. Most of my weapons have rubber bullets or are electricity based." He rubbed his nose, looking sheepish. "Except a few real ones."

Peter rubbed his toes, trying to heat them up as best as he could. He was not sure if he was immune to frostbite and he had no desire to find out, especially not that night. As he moved, he spoke again, now more curious than disturbed:

"So you would only kill the boss, right?"

Jason shrugged. "Unless I have no other choice, yeah. Most of the guys that work for them aren't as bad as them." He paused for a second then added, with a wry laugh: "Some of them are pretty fucked though."

"Then why are they going after you?" Peter insisted, pointing a finger at the closed garage door. "And why after me too? Why did they chase us like that if you only go for the big rogues?"

"Ah, kid…" His friend sighed, emptying the rest of his bottle down the drain of a sink that seemed barely functional, half of it missing and the rest dirty and covered in small cracks. "I wasn't always like that. And it hasn't been that long since I stopped, only a couple months."

He shook his head, slipping off his leather jacket to reveal a large amount of bruises poking out from under his shirtsleeves. Unlike Peter, he was not gifted with enhanced healing and the rough drive there was already leaving its mark on his skin. He flexed his arms, grimacing at the various cuts and bumps staining his skin red and blue. Still, he spoke in an even tone:

"And it's not like I'm squeaky clean right now either. I've gone up against them in the past and they have no reason to think I've changed, especially since they probably know what I'm up to in my free time."

The New-Yorker frowned. "What are you up to in your free time?"

He didn't expect his question to be answered but, once again, he was taken aback by his coworker, who grinned roguishly. "Breaking into places, getting stuff. I have some… ideas I need funds for." He snorted. "Nothing as dangerous as fighting in the Pits, of course."

Peter's jaw fell so low he felt it would soon hit the ground.

"You- You-… Is that-"

"How I knew you were a meta? Let's just say yeah for now." The grin on the young man's face now seemed genuine, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You're not very subtle about it 'Pizza Boy' was it? Half of the underground knows Marco's delivery boy is a meta. Word spreads fast."

"And you're fine with that?" Peter eventually managed to croak out, twisting his fingers into his ruined jacket to hide the way his fists were clenching again and again. His first friend in this world and there was so much he had not known about him.

"I'm more than fine," Jason shrugged. "I've worked with my share of metas before. Can't say I approve of who you hang out with, though. Ivy? She's a dangerous one."

"I need the money." Peter muttered, looking away. In a week, he would have to step back on the ring for the two women he had accidentally tied his fate to. He did not look forward to it at all.

The older teen surprised him again, walking in front of him and sitting down on the ground, legs crossed. He did not appear to be bothered by the cold but then, he had shoes on. The biker clasped his hands together, then rested them on his knees. He took a deep breath, as if he was about to plunge into some icy water, or perhaps lunge headfirst into dangerous territory.

"You need the money," Jason began, then proceeded to shatter Peter's expectations by adding: "…because you want to become a vigilante."

Once again, Peter was left speechless. He had thought his jaw could not go any lower but, apparently, he had been mistaken. He was so stunned he forgot to feel the slightest bit of panic.

"Am I right?" The older teen insisted, tapping a hand on his leg, the only sign of nervousness he was letting show. His eyes were so intense it was impossible to hold his gaze. Whatever was on his mind, he obviously thought it was of major importance.

"I- No- Uh- Nope."

His friend leaned forward slightly, eyes shining with an enthusiasm he only rarely exhibited. The nervousness was gone now, and only excitement was left behind. He grinned. 

"I want to do it too. I think we could work together." Jason told him, with all the subtlety of a truck ramming through a door. "I think we would do very well." 

"W-What? No, I dont-"

Jason shook his head, crossing his arms but looking as determined as he usually did.

"I know you're not making a cosplay, kiddo. And you don't need that kind of armor with that healing power you've got going. How many mutations do you even have?"

"Many." Peter blurted out, fully out of his comfort zone by now.

"I can see it in your eyes too, like I see it in me. We both want to help but we can't, because some narcissistic asshole decided the city is his playground." Jason scoffed, sounding disgusted at the idea. "He's not letting anyone operate unless they're part of his team. But we don't need him to help people. We shouldn't need him to help people, in fact."

"A-are you talking about Batman?"

"Of course I am!" The anger was back, but it was not directed at anyone currently in the room. "This fucker wants everyone to work under him. He doesn't even let his buddies from the League help in Gotham most of the time. He's a total control freak."

"You- sound like you know him well."

Jason winced, regaining his composure almost immediately after losing it. "It's common knowledge. Everyone know the Bat is unhinged and controlling. It's probably a good thing they already think we're working together-"

"Well we are." Peter interjected.

"I'm not talking about pizza." His friend tapped the holster on his hip. "They think you're up to no good because they saw you with me. And that's a good thing."

"How is that a- It's not a good thing!" The younger boy protested, shaking his head. "If anything, it's really bad."

"No. It means the Bat won't want you under him. It means you're free from getting dragged into his little private club. It means you don't need the exclusive Batman approved card to go out and fight crime. Neither do I."

Peter shook his head again, looking down at the cold stone floor in between them.

"You want to be a vigilante." He muttered after a while, thoughts racing and bumping into each other. It was hard to find the words for what he wanted to express. "You want to work together but not with the Bats."

"Exactly."

"I don't kill."

He did not mean to say it in such a forceful way but the words came out of his mouth before he could control himself. Jason's face did not change one bit however. If anything, he looked like he had expected this answer.

"I'm not expecting you to kill anyone. We don't have to go after the big guys, we can just help out in the neighborhood. The Bats are always busy with the rogues, there's a lot of crime that ends up swept under the rug. A lot."

"I- What would that even entail?" Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Jason beamed at him, no doubt thinking he had already convinced him to take part in his more than dubious plan. A vigilante team in full defiance of the Bats? That did not bode well for his desire to keep clear of them.

"We can patrol when we're on deliveries, and after too. If we see something, we intervene. No killing required."

The wind blew in a loud whistle outside their temporary hideout. Peter fidgeted, feeling uncomfortable. "Wouldn't that make us more of a target for the Bats?" He asked, gesturing at the closed door.

"You're going to do it either way, we both know that." Jason said, voice perfectly calm but eyes still shining with excitement. "We're going to show them we don't need fancy toys to help around. We'll do it better than them. I know Gotham extremely well and you're a meta."

"If we do this-" Peter sighed, already knowing it was a mistake even as he spoke the words aloud. "If we do this. You can't be taking criminal jobs on the side. You just can't."

"Are you going to stop fighting in the Pits, then?"

The retort caught him aback. He opened his mouth and closed it, not knowing how to reply to the question. A pathetic "I can't" was all he managed. How to even begin explaining the mess he had gotten himself into with Ivy and Harley?

Jason took his answer with a sad smile. "It's the same for me, I have some loose ends to tie up. As I said, it's only some breaking and entering, nothing major."

"I have fought people over breaking and entering." Peter pointed out. "I will stop the Pits as soon as I can, and you should do the same on your side or I- I can't work with you." He grimaced. "I can't even believe I'm considering it."

"Believe me, I can defend myself so don't worry about that," his friend patted his shoulder gently. "I think this is an opportunity. I-" He took in a breath and held it for a while, looking down. "I knew what you were as soon as I met you but still, I wasn't planning this. I guess-"

Jason swallowed, tried again:

"I guess I trust you more than most people in this town. I didn't expect it but-"

Another pause, another deep breath.

"I used to be a sort of- beginner rogue I suppose. Even had a name. A costume, too. I want to use them again, to show that Bat bastard."

"A beginner rogue." Peter repeated flatly. "You used to be one of Gotham's rogues. And you want to be a vigilante." His mind was screaming at him incoherently, the panic now setting in. A rogue. Not a mercenary. A villain. It was so similar to the multiverse incident it hurt to think about it.

The older boy shrugged. "I want to try it, at least. It's not just about showing that dickhead, too. I also want to help."

"I know that. It's just-… I thought you used to be a mercenary, not a-" He bit his tongue, not wanting to say anything that could be taken the wrong way. "How can I- I-" The words simply would not come to him. He slumped down, head in his hands, feeling like the world was spinning around him. "I-"

A hand on his shoulder, staying for a bit longer this time. Jason's smile was gone now, but his eyes remained soft, something rarely seen on his face, usually stoic and cold.

"I have experience making suits, I can guide you through yours. I also know this city and every companies operating in it, legally and illegally." The young man tilted his head, smiling again. "I also have a very large network in the underground. I can fight and shoot guns, I can drive and I'm decent with computers. You-" The smile grew. "You are not only powerful, you have insanely good instincts, and probably a better moral compass than I do. We will make a good team."

"I can't work with you if you're dealing with criminals." Peter insisted, biting the skin of his thumb. He had rarely felt so conflicted before. He had no other friends in this world yet this seemed as risky as the deal he had made with Ivy, if not more.

"And once I'm done with those lose ends, I'm off that game." Jason's heart sounded steady, his voice was calm. He might have been telling the truth. Might being the main point of contention. How could he know whether or not his friend was honest?

But then… information was one of the things he was lacking since he landed in Gotham. Having an insider's viewpoint and knowledge could make his life significantly easier. Any investigation would be much easier to complete with someone like that on his side but still…

The last time he had worked with presumably redeemed criminals had not gone well for him or his loved ones. He could still feel May's blood on his hands when he slept at night, and sometimes during the day as well.

He hesitated, teetering between two drastically different decisions. He felt as if he was on the edge of a massive cliff, peering down and wondering if jumping would be worth it in the end. A leap of faith, that was what Jason was asking of him. Faith in a man he had met less than a week ago.

A man who had supported him, saved him, been his friend.

But still, Jason was just a man. Men made mistakes, men had the ability to lie and betray, he knew that better than most.

What would May want me to do? Would she proud of me if I simply refused without even trying?

What about Ben?

What about-

"I will-" 

Peter had to stop for a few moments, gathering himself before he could speak again, his heart pounding.

"I will give it a try." Jason's wide grin was enough for him to add, urgently: "For a month. Let's try it for a month. If it doesn't work, we can-"

"-go our separate ways." The older teen nodded vigorously. "I agree. One month. You won't regret it."

He seemed so happy Peter felt a bit guilty at the doubt he still could not crush. It wasn't that he didn't like the other boy or didn't consider him a friend but although he had worked with redeemed criminals before, this was different. Not only was he in Gotham but, according to what he had just been told, the crimes in question had taken place not so long ago and they carried heavy baggage with the city's main vigilante team.

Maybe if they see us helping, it'll help their relationship. A pleasant thought but perhaps a bit too optimistic. Whatever had happened between them in the past has been bad enough to leave Jason with a grudge the size of New York City. Hopefully, the Bats would be a bit more open-minded. Somehow, he doubted it.

"Perhaps we'll even manage to wrestle some of those kids away from him," Jason was saying, still grinning wildly. "They deserve better than this stuck up asshole. What does he even do for them aside from getting them killed?" Behind the smile there was a real, burning anger, Peter could feel it.

He shivered, wondering how big of a mistake he had just made and how exactly he was going to get himself out of it.

His friend Jason, a former rogue? It was hard to believe but-…

… Everyone should have a second shot at life, right?

May would want me to try, at least.

And…

I want to try it too. I want to help him.

Notes:

Just to make it clear, I'm not gonna be repeating the story beats of the Red Hood comics. Familiar characters might appear (and they will) but I'm not going to be replicating the plot, sorry :P

I wanna do my own thing story wise even tho the og concept of Spidey in DC is definitely inspired by Dark Matter and not from me (go read it and reread it again, quality stuff ❤️)

Also lol at Jason thinking Bats will be less interested in Peter by making him team up with him.