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The Web was rarely ever quiet. Not since Peter had fully matured into his powers. It was always a buzz, plinking- singing to him. The distant chimes would sharpen in alarm when danger was around, guiding Peter through maneuvers to keep him safe.
However, the Web blared at him now. Peter’s never felt anything like it. It was so loud, he couldn’t even think. All he could hear were its screams.
Danger. Danger. Danger. Hide. Hide. Hide. Danger!
Faintly, Peter could hear his heavy panting and the distant noises of his city. The people he protected daily screamed alongside the Web. He looked around the torn-apart buildings, trying to make sense of the situation. There was a haze in the air, and not even his enhanced senses could pierce it.
The Web continued to clamor. Peter tried to center himself. He looked down at his hands. They trembled beneath his torn gloves. His heart thudded sluggishly, at odds with his chaotic surroundings. The alarm in the Web intensified.
Usually, Peter could count on the Web to guide him through unsafe situations. Although it wasn’t always right, Peter had the training and experience to fall back on to get him away from the danger. However, both failed him now. He was frozen in place, crouched on a crumbling building while his city bled.
Peter knew he needed to move. The sky was cracking. The Earth rumbled and groaned. Civilians shrieked and cried. His comm line was busted. Eerily silent amongst the deafening noise. Peter had no idea where his fellow vigilantes were, or if they needed assistance. If they were similarly frozen like Peter, with no one to jolt them out of the limbo.
Their forces had been spread thin. All the Earth superheroes were gone. The teams had all assembled and fled the planet. Before they were out of range, Peter shared a brief conversation with Johnny. Something was very wrong. They were needed in space. Peter remembered a Thanos being mentioned. Before Johnny could explain further, their connection had spat to static.
Earth’s protection was left in the hands of the street heroes. They were not enough.
Choat quickly overtook the planet.
Whatever was going on in space was affecting their world. Freak natural and unnatural events, way above Peter’s usual pay grade, consumed the world. Buildings collapsing in on themselves without warning, magical creatures from different realms attacking, Mother Nature turning on them, time bending to another’s will. Peter wasn’t sure when the last time he slept, ate, or hydrated was. There wasn’t time to stop. To rest. To assess or think. Millions were already dead. If he didn’t stay ahead, nothing would be left.
As quick as the world turned on them, it suddenly stopped.
The quiet hadn’t been a relief. The Web soon erupted, screaming along with the universe. Peter barely registered his failing body’s aches and pains when a new, sharp sensation took over.
He watched and felt as the universe unraveled before him. Everything- be it wood, metal, cloth, flesh, alive or not- seemed to melt. A haze of dust slowly blurred Peter’s vision; the onslaught of the Web picked up. A glance at himself told that he wasn’t immune. He, too, was melting- dusting along with the rest of the world.
The burning pain barely registered. There were no thoughts at all. The only thing Peter knew was the Web’s plea: to run.
But where? Nothing brought the comfort of safety. The Web continued to scream no matter where he turned.
Peter’s hesitation cost him. His legs gave out/dispersed. He fell to the concrete, clawing at it and himself. Desperate.
Peter suddenly ceased. His hindbrain took over. The Spider was unleashed. Usually, when the animal shed the man’s chains, it was to serve revenge. However, all he could do now was desperately beg the Web in his last moments.
He wasn’t expecting it to answer. The earning system that was never tangible suddenly flared to life. It grabbed Spider, hauling him away before he died with the rest of the universe.
The Web took Spider in its arms, taking him Away. Beyond. Spider could only pant in its hold. He was past the point of thinking. All that was left was perception. Spider hurt. More pain than he’s felt in his life.
“Spider-Man.”
A voice boomed all around him, making Spider wince. He curled in on himself, trusting the Web. The voice spoke some more. A part of Spider understood, somehow responded without his own voice. However, comprehension was way past him. All there was was pain and the hope for relief.
He’d learn later of the deal he made. Peter would never know if he made the right choice, but he lived with the consequences regardless.
However, now it was time to sleep. Heal.
Spider could do that. Spider would gladly do that.
- - - - - - - - - -
Consciousness came slowly to Dick. The darkness tried to consume him. It took too much effort to fight it. And if he did fight it, Dick knew he wouldn’t like what he saw when he came to.
So he drifted, letting the darkness decide when it was done with him. It gradually lifted until he was staring up at a dusky sky. It also seemed reluctant to let go of the darkness. The sun was just edging over the horizon, slowly lightening the black.
Turning his head, Dick found himself on a random rooftop. The last thing he remembered was patrolling. He then felt one of his tethers brighten and tug. He knew right away it wasn’t Bruce. His father hadn’t called on him in years. The whisper of Kokuzoku entered his mind. A name he wished he could forget.
Fighting the pull hurt. But he couldn’t give in. He’d never give in. The tether was never wanted. Although Tamashī and Shishō both had to give consent for a bond to form, Dick learned early on that consent could be forced.
So he fought until the darkness overtook him. Dick welcomed it. That way, he wouldn’t have to hear Slade’s smug thoughts in his head.
As the remnants of the black faded, Dick became aware of his body. It ached. He knew once he peeled away his tattered suit, he’d be covered in scratches and bruises. Although in weapon form, Dick became invincible, he could still be hurt. It was mostly due to the animosity between him and one of his Shishōs. Bonds and tethers were sacred. Or they were supposed to be. The one he shared with Deathstroke was tainted from the very root. Dick couldn’t count on Slade to take care of him when he was called. He was always wounded after the Shishō used him. And he was always left to pick up the pieces and lick his wounds.
Dick ached to be taken care of. He wished Bruce wanted him. Even if his first Shishō soul called him now, Dick wasn’t sure if he would go willingly. He was constantly having to fight Salde. Dick knew he was accustomed to resisting the tug. He didn’t think he could just give in, even if it was a different Shishō calling him.
It was up to him to take care of himself. No one else could- would help.
So Dick eventually picked himself up off the roof. He slowly trekked through Bludhaven and back to his apartment. He feared checking the date but knew he had to at some point. As he stripped out of his Nightwing uniform, he pulled his phone from one of his many pockets.
13 days. Slade had him for 13 days.
There were a few texts from Tim and Damian, only a few days old. The whole Batclan was used to delayed answers. They wouldn’t have been suspicious of Dick going dark. Or of Nightwing disappearing from Blud.
Slade has been taking him for years, after all. They might have been skeptical in the past, but his vanishings quickly became a pattern, if irregular. Dick never reached out for help, so there was no need to worry.
Dick felt the urge to answer them, but it was quickly flooded by his exhaustion. He put his phone away before he continued changing. He took a quick shower, trying to get rid of the dirty feeling that squirmed under his skin. He’d never be able to make it fully go away. He was under no illusion about what Slade was using him for.
He was a killer. A murderer. Maybe not willingly, but that detail hardly mattered in the long run.
Dick stumbled out of the shower, changed into some clothes he stole from Bruce and Jason. The latter would have probably chewed him out for the audacity, but Dick found comfort in having a reminder of his father and brother. Although they no longer smelled like his family, the oversized clothing still brought a sliver of comfort.
Thumping into bed, Dick stared dimly at the window. Then at the stained ceiling. Then at his closed door. He lay there, exhausted, yet couldn’t drift off to sleep.
The urge to cry suddenly overtook Dick. The choking loneliness and disgust in himself were overwhelming. He really wanted a hug. But all he could remember were the times his siblings told him off or grudgingly went along with it.
He really was unwanted. Unwanted by everyone but a psycho mercenary.
Dick wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he knew he’d wake up feeling like he never rested. He’d go between consciousness and unconsciousness in an unbreakable cycle until it became dark again. Then he’d force himself up, eat something, and go back on patrol.
By then, he’d be able to pretend nothing happened.
At least on the surface, anyway.
He knew this because it had become routine.
He had no reason to suspect that the moment he slipped off to sleep, his routine would change.
- - - - - - - - - -
“Richard Grayson.”
Dick jolted awake with a gasp. He looked around at his foreign surroundings in alarm. The dim fog that had taken control vanished. The jolt of adrenaline that overtook him almost hurt.
He was in some red place. The room seemed to pulse, as if it were alive. His stomach churned; it looked like he was in something’s internals. His frantic gaze fell to the ceiling, where millions of soft glowing strings crawled across the surface. There sparkled slightly, and something eased in Dick’s mind. He quickly shook it off, going back to assessing.
Turning his head, Dick froze at the sight before him.
A throne stood before him. Its back looked like a spider’s web. In between the golden strands, foggy mist seemed to be trapped under stained glass. An elderly woman sat primly on the throne. Her gray hair was put up into a relaxed bun at the base of her skull. A red bandana encased her eyes, matching the crimson dress that entrapped her legs. A sinister spider was embroidered onto the chest, its legs spanning the the length of the dress.
Dick immediately got to his feet, getting into a defensive stance. “Who are you?”
“I am Madame Web,” the woman said calmly. “A being of the multiverse, Keeper of the Spiderverse and Guardian of the Web.”
“The what?” Dick asked, anxiety bleeding into his tone.
Madame Web tilted her head, pondering. “The Spiderverse is a conglomerate of universes that hold spider-totems.”
With a wave of her hand, Madame Web washed away the mist from her throne web. In each patch was a different vigilante or hero in costume. Dick briefly looked over the figures in their wild outfits. The bright colors reminded him of his Robin uniform. He didn’t reminisce long, turning back to the figure he currently shared a room with.
“Each spider-totem holds a part of the Web within themselves,” Madame Web continued. “It is what connects us all and keeps the Spiderverse intact. There cannot be a Spiderverse without the Web, and there cannot be a Web without the Spiderverse.”
“Okay,” Dick said slowly. He took a step to the side, still in a defensive position. “That’s… fascinating and all, but what does this have to do with me? Why did you bring me here?”
Is this like… an initiation? Dick thought, trying not to fidget. Because he did not want to become a spider-totem or whatever Madame Web called it. He had had enough run-ins with a certain spider for a lifetime. Multiple, in fact.
“I called you here, Nightwing, for a favor,” Madame Web confessed. A frown pinched her features. She set her elbows on her throne and brought her folded hands to her lips. “A great tragedy has befallen the Spiderverse. This-”
With another wave of her hand, the throne web was cleared again. This time, the golden strands dimmed and turned white. They shone like dazzling galaxies, bursting with translucent colors. However, as quickly as the stunning display came, it changed again. A strand of the web grayed and darkened, shriveling up. It slowly spread, taking over the whole web.
“One of the universes in the Spiderverse has fallen,” Madame Web explained. Murky images played within the gaps of the webs. There was too much fog for Dick to make out. All he could see was rapid movement flashing through the mist. “The Spiderverse is always gaining and losing different worlds. Usually, it's because the spider-totem has died. Without them, we have no way to connect a universe to the Web.
“However, the tragedy didn’t befall the totem this time, but the entire universe. It was wiped out of existence. Nothing remains of it,” Madame Web explained. “Nothing… except its totem.”
An orb of light suddenly appeared above them. Dick straightened, taking a step back. He remained tense, eyes tracking the orb as it slowly descended.
As it got closer, Dick could sense a presence over the dormant bondspace he shared with his family (and Slade). It wasn’t a bond but… the only way Dick could think to describe it was a drifting soul.
Souls couldn’t exist on the physical plane without a body or supernatural anchor. They essentially needed a container so they could be preserved. Having a container had its pros and cons. A soul could interact with others in the mortal realm, but they couldn’t connect on the soul level. At least, not without a bond.
It was strange for Dick to feel another soul that didn’t have a tether to his own. It was especially weird feeling like he… knew this drifting soul, somehow.
“This,” Madame Web said after letting the orb come level to her chest, “is Peter Grayson. Your son.”
Dick’s attention immediately snapped to the woman. His breath hitched, and his heart thudded deeper. He opened his mouth, about to demand if she was joking, only to reconsider when he saw the grim expression on Madame Web’s face.
“Peter has a strong bond to the Web. Not many reach his level of understanding. It is this deep connection that saved his life,” Madame Web exclaimed. She cupped her hands around the orb that contained his son’s soul. “He reached out to the Web in his last moments, begging to be saved. So desperate. So scared. His screams will forever haunt the Web, I’m sure.”
Madame Web’s lips quivered before thinning. Dick gave her a moment to gain her composure. His eyes trailed back down to Peter’s soul, locking onto it. He tried to think of what it must have been like, experiencing the world around him die. Dick felt his hands curl into fists, teeth grinding together.
When he looked back up to Madame Web, she had her head cocked at him. With a gentle gesture of her hands, the orb floated away from her and towards Dick.
“I was surprised when the Web answered Peter. In all my years of service, I have never seen it react that way.”
Dick could only listen to Madame Web’s words. His eyes wouldn’t stray away from the orb- from his son’s soul- floating over to him. Instinctively, he brought his hands up, cradling the ball of light as much as he could without touching. It seemed to produce its own heat, like a mini star. Muted emotions echoed out of the orb, too faint for Dick to pick up on.
Any doubt that this was a trick left Dick while he held his son’s soul. His own reached out to the younger, knowing they were connected somehow. Dick stared intensely down at the glowing orb containing his son, heat stinged at the corners of his eyes.
“The Web saved Peter. Well, as much of him as it could,” Madame Web corrected. “Peter’s body was gravely damaged by the time the Web pulled his soul away. With a too damaged anchor to contain him and no afterlife to recede to, his soul will start to disperse. Like his universe, Peter too will cease.”
Dick felt his breath hitch again, something lodged in his throat as he looked up, heat hammering. “What do you want me to do?”
Because there had to be something he could do. Why else would she have brought him there? Whatever it was, Dick would do it. He would have done it for anyone. But knowing this was his son…
Dick always wanted to start a family. He’d teach his kids how to fly, continue on the Grayson heritage. He thought he’d have a chance with Barbara. Then with Kor’i. But neither worked out. It didn’t discourage him. He was the son of Bruce Wayne, after all. Adopting had always been in the running. However, Dick never acted on any of his own child-snatching urges.
But holding this drifting soul in his hands. The soul of Peter Grayson. He was very ready to act on the urges that were whispering to him now.
“Your universe,” Madame Web started, “it intrigued me. For Peter to be resurrected, it is best to start him off in a universe not yet tied to the Spiderverse. Sure, multiple spider-totems can exist in one universe at a time, but I and the Web believe it would be better for Peter to start fresh. Somewhere that wouldn’t remind the little spider of what he lost, but of what he can gain.
“So I scoured the Beyond, and I happened upon your universe. You stood out for the unique bonds your kind can share. Most importantly, the ones shared between Tamashī and Shishō.”
Dick couldn’t help but wince at the names. His body still ached from Slade calling him. Dick turned away from Madame Web and back to his son. He tried to swallow but found his throat tight.
Bonds between Tamashī and Shishō could be so empowering. Dick’s felt it firsthand. He knew that type of bond could be beneficial for someone like Peter. He’d never feel lost or adrift again if Dick were bonded to him. He vowed it.
However, Dick had also intimately felt how those bonds could be twisted. How he had been twisted and tainted. There was a chance it could happen to Peter, and Dick would never forgive himself if Peter was hurt in that way.
“I tested to make sure,” Madame Web continued, “if transferred to your universe, Peter’s soul would gain the abilities of a Tamashī. He would need to be in constant contact with a Shishō adjacent in weapon form. This would give his body time to heal and recover enough to once again anchor his soul to this plane.”
Dick felt something ugly clench in his chest, striking him deep. “You want me to find him a Shishō.” He stated, not asked.
Bruce would do it. He’d do it in a heartbeat. And with Peter connected to Bruce, Dick would get a bond to his son.
However, Dick couldn’t help but hate the idea. He wanted to help Peter. He was Peter’s father, after all. It should be him who helps his son recover. To then guide and love and cherish him afterwards. He doubted Bruce would let go once he got his hands on Peter. There’d always be their shared Shishō in the way of father and son. The-
“I said Shishō adjacent, didn’t I?” Madame Web claimed, interrupting Dick’s inner spiral.
Dick stared dully at Peter’s son. He blinked, registering Madame Web’s words before looking up. “What?”
Sighing deeply, Madame Web leaned back in her throne. The prim posture she held through their whole conversation relaxed a little. “Richard, although Peter’s soul will now and likely forever reside in your universe, he isn’t actually from there. He- and I- aren’t bound by your rules.”
“What are you saying?” Dick asked, a little more aggressively than he meant.
“It is my understanding that Tamashī are bound to a Shishō’s wim. It is Shishō who wield. It is Shishō who can soul call. And it is Shishō who forms and cuts tethers.”
“The bond is unbalanced, yes,” Dick concedes, licking his lips. “What are you getting at?”
“After everything Peter’s been through, I will not chain him to a master without his consent. Especially when I’m already sending him to a foreign universe with rules that it’ll take him time to understand.”
Dick opened his mouth to defend his adopted father. Bruce was a very good Shishō. He would not bind Peter to him like some slave. Tamashī were seen as rare and sacred. Of course, there were dangerous and cruel Shishō like Deathstroke who used their power over their Tamashī to further their goals. However, Dick would make sure Peter never fell into such hands. He killed anyone who insinuated that Peter was beneath them.
Before Dick could start a tangent, Madame Web held up her hand. “None of your words will sway me, Richard. I suggest you hear me out before getting too worked up.”
Reluctantly, Dick closed his mouth and nodded. He couldn’t help but take a small step back, coaxing Peter’s orb to follow.
Madame Web’s mouth twitched upward, but she did not say anything about the action. “Peter will choose who his Shishō is, and he will never be able to form any tethers. Bonds, yes. But a tether that a Shishō can control him with? No.”
It… didn’t seem possible. To pick and choose what rules to go by. Something inside Dick bristled at the thought. Bonds between Shishō and Tamashī have been around since the beginning, it seemed. Tradition was important. Tradition was what tied them to the past.
But what Dick wouldn’t give to cut his tether with Slade. It was a question that shouldn’t be answered. There was a darkness deep inside Dick. A darkness that once stirred would never settle again. Not much could rile it out of Dick’s sunshine persona. However, Slade was one of the things that always seemed an inch away from unleashing it.
“How are you going to let Peter decide if he’s comatose?” Dick asked, looking down at his son’s soul.
“...I can’t,” Madame Web admitted, “I chose for him.”
“Chose?” Dick repeated, narrowing his eyes at the wording.
Madame Web just tilted her head at him expectantly.
“Me?” Dick exclaimed, taking a step back. He barely registered Peter following him, cradling his hands more securely around the soul. “But I’m a Tamashī.”
“Yes, and you always will be,” Madame Web agreed. “I meant it when I said Peter will be able to choose. I won’t have his options limited-”
“So he can just bond with anyone?” Dick interrupted. “Anyone could be her wielder?”
Madame Web paused for a moment. “I suppose so.”
You can’t do that. Dick immediately thought. Picking and choosing from their rules was one thing; obliterating them was another. Dick tried to voice his protests, but Madame Web continued.
“Out of everyone in both your universes, there are only two that overlap,” Madame Web declared, “your variant, Richard, and that of your brother Jason Todd.”
Dick tensed, his breath leaving him like he was punched in the gut.
“I believe it is best for Peter if he went with someone familiar,” Madame Web continued, folding her hands in her lap. “I was actually leaning toward summoning your brother. You died when Peter was young, you know. I believe he was in kindergarten.”
Something sharp stabbed Dick; he corralled Peter’s soul closer to himself.
“It was Jason who raised Peter,” Madame Web proclaimed. “It would be Jason whom Peter recognizes. Whom he’d feel safe with.”
“But you called me,” Dick finished for her. He ignored the wrecked tone his voice took on. He looked down at his son’s soul.
“Yes,” Madame Web said. Although her eyes were covered, she seemed to look over Dick, assessing him. “I believe that not only could Peter benefit from being with you, but you could benefit from looking over Peter.”
Dick looked away from the orb, locking his gaze with Madame Web. He knew then that he was an open book to her. All his achievements and failures, dreams and insecurities had been put on display. And, somehow, he had met her approval.
The hope from before dared to build up. Dick shifted on his feet, trying to look strong, capable. “What do you need to be to?”
A smirk flickered across Madame Web’s lips. “Just relax,” she said simply.
Then, with a lazy flick of her wrist and a quick snap, the world turned bright white.
- - - - - - - - - -
Between one blink and the next, Dick was back in his bed. He stared owlishly up at his stained ceiling. For a second, he wondered if he had conjured up that strange interaction in his dreams.
But no, Dick could tell there was something different. The dormant bondspace was alight with life. Another soul was curled up next to Dick’s. It was dim with unconsciousness, but there all the same.
Dick marveled at it. He slowly turned onto his side, his attention shifting inward. He enveloped the soul connected to his. Immediately, he knew this was Peter. This was his son. A thrill of complex emotions rocked through him. Love and anxiety were the two primary.
He had a son. Hell, he had a Tamashī connected to him. This shouldn’t be possible, yet here they were, wrapped around each other in a complex bond.
Dick just drifted there, soaking up the warmth his son’s bond produced. It took him a while to notice the sensation around his wrists. That there was more to Tamashī than just bonding.
Sitting up a little, Dick looked down at the new ornaments decorating his wrists. Two identical metallic bracelets sat snuggly above his hands. What little sunlight came through the window reflected off them, making the metal gleam. He flexed a wrist in the light, noticing an almost scale-like design on it. In the center of the back of his hand was a faint spider design. Besides that, the bracelets seemed ordinary enough.
Web shooters, a voice not his own, faintly supplied. Dick turned his attention back to Peter, but his son’s soul remained as dormant as before.
Slowly, Dick sank back down into his bed. He cradled his wrists to his chest, curling himself around them. He stroked a thumb along one of the brace- web shooters.
Dick knew he was likely way in over his head. If he allowed himself to, he would spiral into a panic attack. But he wouldn’t, not with Peter currently relying on him. He had a responsibility now. And he would not mess this one up.
He’d make a game plan later, but for now, he’d rest. Tucking Peter’s soul close, he closed his eyes and drifted back off.
It was some of the best sleep he had gotten in a long time.