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When Spidey Met Batgirl	By : littleblackduck Category: DC Verse Comics > Batgirl Views: 29376 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Spider-Man or Batgirl or anything Marvel and/or DC related. I make no profit from this work.

Chapter List
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CHAPTER TWO: Escape to New York

Escaping the cops had been a breeze. Of course it was. Spider-Man could escape the cops in his sleep. Half of the NYPD had been taking shots at him for years. The Gotham cops hadn't even switched off their safeties by the time he scaled the building and bounded down the block with a series of thirty-foot leaps.
Throughout his entire daring getaway, the same question burned through his head: What the hell was he going to tell his Aunt May?
Forget the fact that he'd almost torn his arm off. Forget the fact that he'd been carried to a strange city far from home. Hell, forget the fact that he'd pissed off the cops three seconds after touching down. He had to figure out how to explain his sudden absence to his beloved aunt without giving her a coronary.
Assuming she hadn't already suffered one.
Hopping from building to building in the unfamiliar environs, the answer suddenly came to him. Or rather, he came to it. Stopping at the roof of a small apartment complex, Spider-Man looked down to see the main gate of Gotham University, where a giant banner blazed the words "WELCOME PROSPECTIVE STUDENTS."
*
Barbara -- still sore and undressed from the previous night -- rolled gingerly out of bed at noon. She had a one o'clock shift at the Gotham Public Library that she really didn't want to work, but she'd used up the last of her sick days recovering from that ugly dust-up with Solomon Grundy two months earlier.
"Librarian by day, crime-fighter by night," she murmured to herself as she shimmied out of her boy-shorts on her way to the bathroom for a quick shower. "I just gotta do something 'bout that day job..."
"I don't know, Babsy," she heard a voice say as she opened the bathroom door. "You make that whole sexy school marm thing work for you."
It took Barbara a moment to register the fact that Dick Grayson was sitting on her toilet, thumbing through her diary. It took her another moment to tear the book out of his hands and one more to cover herself with a towel.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Well, I was reading the bawdy backseat adventures of a young, lithe, and flexible high school gymnast on the cusp of her nascent sexuality, but I fear I may have crossed a boundary there," Dick replied with a smirk. "By the way, I just love your new choice of sleeping attire. So many young ladies are afraid to let their puppies out to breathe au naturel."
"I could have sworn it was a school day," Barbara said.
"Spring break," he told her.
"That's great," she said. "You can gear up for finals on your own this time. I don't tutor anymore. Now get out."
"Overstayed my welcome already?" Dick sighed. "Pity. We didn't even get a chance to talk shop."
"What do you mean?"
"Batman wanted to congratulate you on a job well done last night."
"Why?" Barbara asked. "It was the freakin' Riddler."
He shrugged. "Trust me, Red. These little bits of praise are few and far between. Take 'em when you can get 'em."
"Thanks. That means a lot. Now get out."
Dick ignored her and pressed on. "Oh and heads up, His Holy Darkness is skipping town for a day or two."
"Batman's leaving Gotham?" she asked. "Why? Justice League business?"
"Something like that," Dick sighed. "Anyway, the Teen Titans and I are on a big case right now, so I won't be around either. That means the city's in your hands."
"Wow. It looks like this little boys club we've got going's finally starting to shape up. Super. Now get out."
Dick pouted a bit. "Babs, I thought that with your old man in New York and my legal guardian gallivanting about while I'm headed off to face god-knows-what peril out in the world, maybe you and I could finally deal with all this damn sexual tension."
"Seriously, Pixie Boots," she said. "My dad's got a service revolver somewhere in the house. I'm just about willing to use it."
"I know, I know," Dick said. "'Now get out.'" He made his way toward the door, casually snatching Barbara's towel away as he passed.
He just made it out of the house before she found the gun.
*
Spidey was surprised he didn't get too many odd looks as he walked up to one of the campus pay phones. Peter was about a month away from his high school graduation, and he could already tell he was going to like college life. Anything that would regularly seem out of sorts appeared to be accepted with a shrug.
Probably think this is a frat stunt, he mused, dialing his house in Forest Hills.
"Hey, Aunt May, it's me," he said when she picked up. "Just calling to tell you I got here all right."
"Peter, I've been worried sick!" she cried. "Where are you?!"
"Aunt May, I don't understand!" he said with as much shocked indignation as he could muster. "I'm in Gotham City! I told you I was taking a tour at GU!"
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "You did?"
Spider-Man sighed. "Of course I did, Aunt May. You didn't forget, did you?"
"I guess I did." She sounded shaken. "I could have sworn you had your heart set on Empire State University."
"I'm just trying to keep my options open," he lied. She was right, of course. He vaguely remembered getting an invite to prefrosh weekend at Gotham University, but he'd tossed it out. There was no way he could actually afford to leave New York. And there was no way he'd move that far from his aunt.
"Of course you are, dear," she said. "I should have remembered. Must be having one of those senior moments Anna's always teasing me about..."
He winced at that. He was loathed to admit it, but he was getting used to lying to her. He hated leading her to doubt her own faculties, but what else could he do? The truth would kill her.
"What a shame you're away," May continued. "Anna's bringing her niece here for dinner tonight."
Well at least there was one good thing about his current predicament. Peter had never met Anna Watson's niece, and since Aunt May had always described this Mary Jane girl as having a "wonderful personality" he doubted he wanted to. And ever since Betty Brant broke things off with him, May had redoubled her matchmaking efforts.
"Well thank you for checking in on a silly old woman, dear," she said with a frown he could hear some 90 miles away. "You're such a sweet, thoughtful boy."
That last bit really stung. "Okay, Aunt May, I've got to go," he told her. "The group's leaving without me."
"Have a good time, Peter, and try to stay safe," she said. "I hear such dreadful things about that city. I love you."
"I love you, too."
He hung up and hung his head in shame.
*
Harlene Quinzel had been working at the Gotham University Bookstore for two years. This was her last semester earning her doctorate, and she found that at times, her job made adequate use of her abnormal psych material. Days like today were a good example.
"This all seems a little pricey," the guy in the red and blue tights said as he approached the counter. Harlene had been watching him the entire time he'd been sifting through the clothing racks. She tried not to pay him too much attention -- that was what these frat boys wanted you to do -- but she couldn't help it. He had a really nice butt.
"I gotta tell you, the bookstore isn't the best place to find bargain duds, stud," she told him, ringing up the tee-shirt, licensed track pants, and authorized GU logo sneakers he'd selected. "Going Gotham all the way, huh?"
"Certainly looks like it," he muttered, reaching into his tights and producing two sweaty and wrinkled fifty dollar bills. "There goes my mad money."
Harlene couldn't resist anymore. "Can I ask you something?" she asked.
"Shoot."
"I'm working on a paper," she explained. "Would you say you feel compelled to alienate others in order to ingratiate yourself into a reward-based sub-culture, or would you say you feel a need to dismantle your primary persona to resocialize yourself within a collective ego mass? I mean, what drives you to participate in this type of ritualized norm disruption?"
She bagged his clothes in silence, awaiting his response. He didn't say anything for a while. Since his features were obscured by that ridiculous mask, Harlene couldn't quite tell if he was mulling it over or just confused. "I get punched a lot," he said finally, "but with great power comes great responsibility."
"Power, huh?" she murmured, considering his words as she handed him the bag. "So you feel different? In the tights, I mean..."
"Oh yeah," he said, making his way out of the store. "Very liberating in strange ways. You should give it a try some time."
"Maybe I will," she said.
She watched him leave, marveling at the way he filled out that spandex in all the right places. And that twisted sense of humor! She loved a man with a twisted sense of humor...
*
"Get me another rum and coke and a gin and tonic," Jim Gordon said to the barman.
"What do you want to drink to this time?" his companion asked, raising his gin.
Gordon thought on that for a moment. "How 'bout our girls?" he suggested.
"Sounds good to me." They clinked glasses.
Jim didn't drink too often -- least of all in the afternoon -- but this was a special occasion. It'd been years since he'd seen George Stacy.
"How is little Gwendy?" Gordon asked after a healthy gulp of his drink. "I thought she'd be around."
"She's off looking at colleges most weekends," George said with a grimace. "She's graduating from high school next month."
"Makes you feel old, doesn't it?"
Stacy sighed. "I assumed the cane would have sapped the last of my youthful vanity, but the thought of watching her walk across that stage, Jimbo? Christ almighty!"
Gordon downed the rest of his rum. "Yeah, well, Barbara's already out of college. You think high school graduation's going to be tough? Wait until she's got a job of her own. Then you can bitch, Georgie-boy."
"Fair enough," Stacy agreed.
"Or you can wait until your first partner -- the guy who helped you close your first case -- decides to retire," Jim said. "That'll knock you flat on your ass just as fast."
"I'll keep that in mind, Commissioner Gordon."
"You do that, Captain Stacy."
They sat in silence for a while.
"How is Gotham treating you?" George asked.
"Gotham's kicking my ass," Jim muttered. "It's got a crime rate that just won't quit and a police force I can't wash clean no matter how many dirty cops I flush out."
"Yeah, but you've got help from high and dark places, or so I hear."
"Oh sure," Jim said. "I've got The Batman, too. Lucky me."
"Could be worse," George told him. "At least you can talk to him without worrying about your badge. At least you live in a town where the higher ups can admit that this strange new breed of crime-fighter is here to stay and that it might not kill anybody if we let them pitch in. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised some of New York's more vibrant vigilantes haven't skipped town to give life in Gotham a taste."
Jim laughed at that. "I'm sure going to Gotham would be a snap, Captain. It'd be getting out that'd kill 'em."
*
"Whoa, hold on, mack," Peter said to the bus station teller. "A ticket out of this shithole is how much?"
"Sixty dollars, sir," the teller told him again. "Will that be cash or credit card?"
"I gave my money to the hot blonde at the bookstore," Peter blurted out. "I've got maybe 20 bucks left! Can't I just sit on top of the bus or something? I won't slip off. I swear."
The ticket agent just looked at him, puzzled.
"That's a no, isn't it?" Peter asked.
"Absolutely," the agent assured him.
Peter resisted the urge to smash something and stalked out of the bus station as calmly as he was capable. He should have just stolen some clothes out of a laundromat or something. He knew he should have just stolen some clothes even when he was buying the overpriced rags he was wearing, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. Lying to Aunt May was bad enough. Taking the law into his own hands and resisting arrest on a daily basis was second nature to him at this point. But he just couldn't steal. Especially not while wearing that mask. If he did that, he'd become everything the Daily Bugle said he was.
Well maybe not everything. He wouldn't be a dogfucker. He still couldn't believe that the Bugle's publisher, J. Jonah Jameson, adamantly refused to print a retraction on that one.
He thought about asking Aunt May to wire him some money, but he was in no hurry to call her up again. Besides, it's not like she really had the cash to spare. (And when you really got down to it, Peter had no idea what having money "wired" really meant anyway. He'd just heard about it in some movie.)
He tried to remember if he knew anyone in Gotham, but the only person he knew who'd ever lived there was Angela Chen, one of the Bugle's staff photographers. She'd left New York a couple years back to chase the shutterbug Holy Grail: a snapshot of The Batman. It was well known that for all the talk heard about Gotham's Caped Crusader and alleged Justice League member, he'd never been photographed. Not even by Phil Sheldon, and that guy had photographed every superhero under the sun. So, of course, Angela came back six weeks later with nothing.
Peter was there when she returned to the office for the first time. Jonah gave her a hard time about getting her job back, but after he went off to tear Ben Urich a new one, Joe Robertson, the Bugle's city editor and ranking voice of reason, assured her she still had a place there. "It's not the first time someone's gone off on the search for the Great Black Bat," Robbie told her. "Hell, it happens to all the greats at some point. That kid at the Daily Planet, Jimmy Olsen? I hear he spent half a year chasing that whackjob."
Stepping out onto the streets of Gotham City, Peter thought about it. He had his mini-camera stashed away with his costume. And he had a big advantage over every other photographer that'd ever tried to capture Gotham's great urban legend on film -- unless that Olsen jerk could stick to walls. If he could snap a quick pic of this bat-chump he could sell it to the Gotham Gazette and get that bus ticket. Hell, he could probably buy the whole damn bus station with an exclusive like that.
He'd have to wait until night, he figured. It was rumored The Batman only came out at night. Sundown was still another five or six hours away. He'd have to kill some time.
How hard could it be? Here he was, on his own in a strange new city. He was a hip guy at the height of his youth. There had to be somewhere he could go for a good time.
Somewhere cheap.
"Excuse me," he said to one of the less threatening strangers he'd encountered. "Which way is the library?"
NEXT:

When Peter Met Barbara
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When Spidey Met Batgirl