Benderiino !!

1.4k words

Peter was falling. Last he checked he had two feet planted firmly on the ground. To add to that, he was in the sewers, knee deep in the beautiful concoction that was New York Cities waste. And now he was falling. He couldn't tell you how it happened, or even what had happened. All he knew was that he was falling. He wasn't sure which he preferred honestly. On the one hand, the sewer, and on the other, how the hell did he get here? 

He flails around, trying to right himself as he twists his body so that he doesnt have to look at the quickly approaching ground, and so he could focus on the surroundings blurring past him. His eyes latch onto the nearest building tall enough to save him from his impending splat. Throwing his arms up he aims for the highest point in his reach, the ensuing thwip acting as a slight balm to his paniced mind and thunderous heart.

This is gonna hurt, Peter thinks, bracing himself as the webs land and his body jolts to a stop, his arms and shoulders searing with pain at the sudden jerk. A miracle they didnt dislocate, he muses before his body slams into the buildings wall. A grunt escapes him as his back connects, his grip loosening in misplaced surprise. Seriously, what did he think was gonna happen?. He begins his decent once again. The ground comes quickly this time, not gentle as it meets him, but not a splat either so he cant really complain. 

His forearms brace his fall, he has the foresight to roll with the collision this time, collapsing in a crumpled heap with a groan once his body comes to a stop. Peter takes a second to think while his body thrums with pain, the pungant sewer scent from his suit washing over him once again now that he’s not nearing his death.

Letting out a resigned sigh, he pushes himself up slowly, a muffled noise of pain escaping at what he assumes is a few broken ribs. Some job, man, he thinks with a small, amused exhale, very heroic.

Scanning his eyes over his surroundings, he assesses the situiation as he carefully manovers his body to a standing position. His head tilts backwards as he looks up to take in the buildings around him. A hand raises to scratch at the back of his masked head as he collects his thoughts. Usually, danger comes shortly after events like these, but there might as well be a tumbleweed rolling by.

This definitely wasnt one of his streets. The unfamiliiar buildings loom above him, as dark and gloomy as the night swallowing them, nothing like the inviting warmth of his home. Spooky, he thinks, locking eyes with a gargoil decorationg a building across the street. He remains in place for a moment, almost hoping for someone wishing death upon him to appear, so that he can at least make a little sense of his situation. He looks around in hope and confusion, but the circaidas continue– nothing but the sounds of a city at night.

Huffing quietly, he turns, the thwip of his webs being the only familiar thing in this overall lackluster experience. Peter propells himself upwards, moving to situate himself atop one of the smaller buildings around him. He lands with a quiet thump of his feet on the buildings edge, looking around once again in slight despair before flopping down to sit, his legs dangling over the edge as he resigns himself to the facts.

Parker luck strikes again, he thinks, humourlessly, berating his past self for caring about the damn lines of his suit as he mourns the loss of anything that couldve been in his nonexistant pockets. He kicks his feet out, allowing himself some time to wallow in self pity before figuring out his next steps.

His next course of action finds him, however, as a dim light in the sky catches his eye. He stares for a moment, honetly baffled. The light is definitely supposed to be bright, but the gloom of the city, and the sky above it is consuming, almost swallowing it before it meets the clouds. But that is, unmistakably, a giant bat in the sky.

Reminds me of the Torch and his messages, Peter thinks, amused, before the realisation hits him. He jumps to his feet, body moving before he has time to think it through. Judging by the small grin on his face he seems to agree with the idea anyway. 

His stomach swoops as he falls, the feeling comforting now that he’s in control of it. He enters the familiar rythm of his webslinging, only a little stilted due to the new city he travels through, the layout proving a little difficult to navigate. It doesnt help that he doesnt know where hes going. Or where he is. But, the light shines dimly, and he plans to find its source.

That is, however, the extent of Peters plan. He doesnt know what hes heading towards, and he doesnt know what he plans to do either. He does have the foresight to stop a couple of buildings away though, once the giant, circular signal comes into sight, unwilling to throw himself even deeper into unfamiliar territory.

He swings himself up onto a building nearby, landing quietly and hiding his brightly coloured figure behind the wall of the roofs entrance door. He peers round the corner, taking in the rooftop home to the light.

A lone figure stands, dark trentch coat fluttering slightly as the breeze hits. They musta lit it, Peter thinks, letting out an amused breath as the figure proceeds to light a cigarette, turning slightly to do so. The light catches the guys face, revealing, firstly, that he is a guy, judging by the thick, mostly grey, facial hair, after that, Peter takes in his serious expression, and the shirt and tie peaking out from under his coat collar.

Looks important, he muses before his eyes widen slightly at the appearance of a dark sillouette of black behind the smoking man. His body jerks forward slightly at the sight of the imposing figure before he catches himself, taking note of the pointy ears sat atop the hulking mass of flowing darkness. And people say Im a little ‘on the nose’, Peter thinks, his reflex to help the other man conceding at the fact that this must be the person the signal is for.

He relaxes slightly, preparing himself to listen in and resigning himself to the fact that theres not much that he can take in about what he presumes must be the ‘bat’. A few seconds after, his eyes narrow in confusion. A second figure joins the giant darkness of the bat, coming to the towering figures side as they approach the man waiting. The second figure is small, made even smaller as they’re dwarfed by the former.

The child– because thats all they could be– has a little more to take in than the bat, despite the large hood encasing their face in shadows, connecting to a cape of their own, though theirs stops around their back, the top is black, hints of the yellow underneath revealed by the wind. However, the facts of their appearence are unimportant to Peter as his eyes lock onto the large sword resting at the childs side. What kinda kid carries a katana? He thinks, lightly hysterical and a little impressed.

Peters attention shifts as the smoking man stubs his cigarette out under his shoe and turns, tensing slightly as he comes to face the figures before him. Peter shuffles slightly, ears zeroing in on them as the smoking man speaks.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one a these days, Batman.” The man huffs, his foot twisting on the cigarette.

“You would think you had learned to expect it by now.” The kid replies sharply.

“Gordon.” Batman greets shortly with a small huff aimed at the boy, his voice low and gravelly.

“Straight to it,” Gordon sighs, “We’ve had reports of a bright flash in the sky.”

Crap, Peter thinks as the three fall silent for a second. He leans forward a fraction, hoping for something that could help him figure out how he got here.

“There is a storm expected.” The boy drawls impatiently, crossing his arms.

“Yes,” Gordon huffs, amused, “Well, this one came with a call, someone saw a red and blue figure falling from the white light.”

Benders thoughts: