Somewhere in deep space, in a dimly lit cantina on an asteroid, an alien bounty hunter whispers a name. "Nightwing." Immediately, the entire bar goes silent. Someone drops a glass. A six-armed smuggler starts sweating. A young rookie leans in. "Who's Nightwing?" The bartender, an old, battle-scarred alien, laughs. "Kid… you don't know about the Wing of Night?" The rookie shakes his head. The bartender leans in. "He is the warrior who conquered the heart of the Tamaranean Princess. The one who walks beside the Daughter of Trigon and lives. A human so fearless, he chooses to fight crime with no powers, just vibes." Another smuggler cuts in, wide-eyed. "I heard he once punched Darkseid." A bounty hunter slams his fist on the table. "Lies. But I do know this—he's so good at combat that the Warlords of Vega have a do not engage policy with Earth. They call it the ‘Grayson Clause.’” A deep, gravelly voice mutters, "The Bat trained him." Gasps. The rookie is now visibly shaking. "Wait—so he’s a Bat?" The bartender grins. "No, kid. He’s the one who got out. And that makes him the most dangerous of all." Somewhere, across the stars, Nightwing sneezes.
So we all know Peter is broke. Not “Oh no, I can’t afford takeout” broke—real broke. Like digging through couch cushions for subway fare broke. Desperate times, desperate measures. He signs up for one of those gig apps—y’know, the ones where you do odd jobs for cash. Just a little side hustle. First job? Deliver a package. Easy. Swing across town, drop it off, collect $50. Simple, right? Wrong. Because as soon as he hands it over, the guy runs for his life. And the next thing Peter knows? He’s surrounded. Black SUVs. Shady men in suits. One guy speaking into an earpiece like he’s in a spy thriller. Peter sighs. “Okay, so I definitely just delivered illegal contraband, didn’t I?” A guy pulls out a badge. “FBI. Step away from the package.” Peter considers running, but another dude steps up. “Wait… Spider-Man? Oh my god, did we just sting Spider-Man?” And now everyone is panicking because apparently, the FBI just tricked a superhero into doing crime. Peter groans. “Yeah, I knew $50 was too good to be true.” Peter spent the next two hours in an interrogation room while Nick Fury gives the most furious death stare with his only eye ball
Avengers Tower. 3 AM. Spider-Man’s phone rings. Its Tony. Peter, half-asleep: “Hello?” Tony: “I clicked something. Everything’s gone. Fix it.” Peter blinks. “What—what are you talking about?” “I don’t know! The thing. The cloud? The Stark Drive? It’s all gone.” Peter groans. “Did you try turning it off and on again?” “…No.” “Try that.” Click. Beep. Tony: “It worked.” Peter: “I hate you.” The next day, Steve calls. Steve: “Hey, uh. My shield Bluetooth isn’t connecting?” Peter: “WHY DOES YOUR SHIELD HAVE BLUETOOTH?!” Then Clint calls. Clint: “So, hypothetically, if I accidentally connected my hearing aids to my speakers in the training room—” A very distant, very angry Natasha: “BARTON, FIX THIS OR I’M THROWING YOU OFF THE ROOF.” Peter sighs. “I am blocking all of you.”
It starts with one notification. Nightwing: "Hey B, made a Batfamily group chat!" Bruce sighs. He mutes it immediately. Then: 172 new messages. Jason: "So is Bruce legally our dad or nah?" Tim: "Technically? No. Emotionally? Also no." Steph: "What’s he gonna do, un-adopt us? Lol." Damian: "I will duel all of you for inheritance rights." Cassandra: [thumbs up emoji] Bruce considers deleting the app. But then—crime alert. A robbery downtown. Bruce sends a single message. "Nightwing. Robin. Handle it." Dick: "Which Robin?" Jason: "Which Nightwing?" Tim: "Wait, are we calling dibs?" Damian: "I will end you." Bruce closes the app. An hour later, he gets one last notification. Barbara: "Handled. Also, you can’t leave. You’re an admin." Bruce hates everything.
The mayor gets arrested for corruption. Again. New York, collectively exhausted, turns to the one man they can trust: Spider-Man. Peter assumes it’s a joke—until a news anchor says, completely serious, "Write in 'Spider-Man' on the ballot. He will fix this."
And then it happens. A full 72% of the vote goes to Spider-Man. Jameson has never been angrier in his life. The governor demands Spider-Man take office. The people riot when he refuses. The Avengers hold an intervention.
Peter, horrified, swings into a press conference, grabs the mic, and says, "Please. Stop. I am literally not legally allowed to be mayor." New York responds by trying to change the law. Desperate, Peter finds the one person who can make this nightmare end. He calls Matt Murdock. Two weeks later, Mayor Daredevil is sworn in.
Peter does not know how this is better.
Red Hood takes out three crime families in a week. He’s not trying to take over. He’s just removing bad people. Unfortunately, he forgets one tiny detail: power vacuums get filled. So when he wakes up to a briefcase full of cash and a note that just says "For the Big Guy", Jason is… confused. Then he hears it. Whispers in the streets. The entire Gotham underworld thinks he’s their new boss. Jason is horrified. Bruce finds out when he busts a drug ring and the guy in charge just sighs, “Look, man, we already paid Hood this month.” Bruce: “You what.” Jason, exasperated: "I’M NOT RUNNING THE MOB." Bruce, massaging his temples: "You are literally running the mob." The worst part? Crime is down. Like. Way down. Tim: “Honestly? This is the most peaceful Gotham’s been in years.” Dick: “Bruce is gonna kill him.” Barbara: “But, like… politely.” Jason spends the next three months trying to undo it. It does not go smoothly.
Peter’s day starts normal. Punch crime. Save the city. Stress about rent.
Then his phone buzzes. Unknown number. Weird.
“Uh, hello?”
“Mr. Spider-Man! Love your work. Quick question—how much for a week of protection?”
Peter stares. “Excuse me?”
The guy keeps talking. Something about a rival business, needing muscle, willing to pay “competitive rates.”
Peter’s first instinct is to hang up. Then he pauses. If he got the call…who else are they hiring?
That night, Spider-Man swings into the guy’s office before any actual criminals do. Lands on the desk. And steeples his fingers like a businessman.
“Alright. Let’s talk about your security needs.”
The guy is confused but cautiously optimistic. He explains his problem—shady competitors, unpaid debt, bad press. He’s looking for muscle.
Peter nods thoughtfully. Then pulls out a contract.
“Good news. You’re under Spider-Man’s protection. Bad news? That just means you’re donating to charity now.”
The guy blinks at the paper. “This just says I have to fund homeless shelters.”
Peter grins from the window. “Congratulations. You just hired Spider-Man.”
The Avengers are mid-meeting. Big, important stuff. World-ending threats. Tony is about to make a very dramatic speech when— THWIP. Spider-Man swings in through the window. Lands on the table. Knocks over five coffee cups. “Hey, guys! What’s up?” Everyone stares. Steve sighs. “Spider-Man. We have doors.” “Yeah, but I also have style, Cap.” Tony squints. “Why are you here?” Spidey pulls out a very crumpled flyer. “So I heard about the Avengers’ free food situation, and my fridge is looking real empty right now.” Natasha: “You… broke into Avengers Tower. For food.” “Not broke in! Just, y’know, entered dynamically.” Clint is already pushing a pizza box toward him. “You absolute disaster. Take it.” Peter wins.
Bruce wakes up to 72 missed calls. Alfred’s waiting with the tablet: “Sir, you may wish to see this.” Gotham Gazette: "Bruce Wayne is Absolutely, 100%, No-Doubt-In-Anyone’s-Mind BATMAN." Bruce sighs. Third time this year. The article has "definitive proof": He disappears at night. (Okay, but rich people have hobbies.) He has Batman’s jawline. (Rude.) He adopted five kids who all look like a tiny version of him. (Okay, fair.) Bruce: “Alfred. Fix this.” Alfred, already on the phone: “Lucius, we need another fake alibi. How do we feel about ‘secret underground yacht club’?” Meanwhile, Tim, Jason, and Dick are betting on how long it takes for Bruce to clear his name. Jason: “Or we let it happen. Think of the stress relief.” Tim: “You want the entire city knowing who Batman is?” Jason: “I want Bruce to suffer.” By nightfall, Alfred has “leaked” that Bruce was actually on a six-month yoga retreat in Tibet. Bruce hates that it works.
Peter didn’t mean to steal a building. It just kind of… happened. It starts when he swings by a sketchy warehouse in Brooklyn—one of those places where if you ask what they sell, they just stare at you until you leave. He busts in, takes down the goons, and webs up the ringleader. Classic. Then the cops show up. And, weirdly, they look nervous. "Uh, Spider-Man," one of them says, "this… isn't a criminal warehouse." Peter blinks. Looks around. "There's literally stolen vibranium in the corner." "Right, yeah, but technically, this building still belongs to Wilson Fisk. Legally. So…" Spider-Man, through a series of bad decisions, now legally owns an entire three-story Brooklyn warehouse. And because he refuses to do crime, he has no way to pay the property taxes. MJ is losing it. "Babe, you are a homeowner in New York. This is your greatest achievement." Tony offers to buy it. Doctor Strange suggests turning it into a pocket dimension. Peter turns it into a soup kitchen. He is, somehow, even more broke.
Jason doesn’t plan on running into trouble tonight. But trouble finds him in the form of a terrified old man outside a rundown laundromat. “They raised my rent again,” the guy stammers. “I—I can’t afford it.” Jason glances across the street. The landlord’s office is still open. Lights on. Big, smug sign in the window: “Cash Only.” “Stay here,” Jason says, already crossing the street. Two minutes later, he walks out, hands clean, landlord whimpering behind him. A newly signed document flutters onto the counter—Rent frozen for three years. The old man blinks. “H-How—?” Jason shrugs, tossing him a $20 bill. “Get yourself a coffee, old man.” Tim hears about it the next day. “So, you’re a rent control advocate now?” Jason smirks. “Just looking out for the little guy.” Bruce sighs from across the table. “You broke both the guy's hands, didn’t you?” Jason sips his coffee. “Allegedly.”
Peter Parker does not have time for this. He’s running late, he’s got no money for the subway, and he just spilled coffee on himself. So, when he swings past a convenience store and sees a robbery in progress, he figures—why not multitask?
He swings in, mid-air, yells: “HEY, WHAT’S UP, GUYS?” Chaos. The robbers freak out. The cashier screams. Spidey lands, grabs a bag of chips, tosses cash on the counter. “I’m just here for snacks. You do you.” The robbers look at each other. One of them—bold move—tries to point a gun at him. Peter just tilts his head. “…Are you sure about that?” They aren’t. They drop their weapons and sprint out the door. The cashier stares. “Did you just scare off a robbery by existing?” Peter shrugs. “Am I really that scary?” "You got your moments for sure! Chips on me thanks for the help."
He grabs his chips gives a little wave and swings off. And that’s how Spider-Man accidentally stopped a crime on his way to being late.
Your landlord just upped the rent again! Not because the building got better—it didn’t. He has been increasing rent due to “inflation” and “upgrades” even though it’s a shithole, but some corporate dick bought the block and expects us to play luxury prices.
So now, you’re in the leasing office, staring at the framed “Property Manager of the Year” award behind the desk. A crowbar sits heavy in your grip.
“You break the computer, they’ll just get a new one,” a voice behind you says.
You turn. A tall dude holding a red helmet watches you, amused.
Jason Todd.
“What you really wanna do,” he continues, “is take out the plumbing records. No records, no inspections. No inspections? No permits.” He nods towards the desk. “Been looking into this guy myself. Whole operation’s shady.”
A pause. You nod.
Fifteen minutes later, the office is wrecked. Hard drives smashed. Pipes leaking. Before leaving, you take the “Property Manager of the Year” plaque and gently place it in the middle of the destruction.
The next morning, the building is shut down for “unexpected code violations.”
Jason strolls past as you read the notice, smirking.
“Told ya it was shady”
You glance at your landlord, furious on the phone. “Guess that award was premature.”
Bruce leaves Gotham for seven days. Just one week. A business trip, a League mission, whatever. He’s gone.
The Batfamily takes bets on how fast Gotham collapses.
Day one: A bank robbery gets halfway through before the robbers realize no one’s stopped them yet. A confused Red Hood arrives mid-getaway, goes "Wait, really?", and proceeds to rob the robbers.
Day two: Nightwing prevents a crime by accident because a mugger just assumes he’s Batman in a new suit and immediately surrenders.
Day three: A supervillain actually delays his evil plan because he doesn’t trust that Batman is really gone.
Day four: Damian announces martial law.
Day five: The GCPD starts making decisions by asking, "What would Batman do?" It does not go well.
Day six: The Justice League throws a party in one of Bruce's penthouses. Even Alfred is invited.
Day seven: Bruce comes back, expecting chaos. Instead, Gotham is… weirdly calm. He stares at the reports. Crime actually went down.
Jason shrugs. "I don't know, man. Maybe you're the problem." Bruce does not find this funny.
Peter swings into Avengers Tower unannounced. Which is technically illegal, but considering half the people inside are war criminals, he’s not too worried.
He lands in the conference room mid-meeting. “Serious question. Am I an Avenger?” Tony sighs. "This again?"
Steve: "You were never recruited officially."
Natasha: "How are you even in here?"
Thor: "Would you like to be?"
Peter: “That’s the problem! Every time the city is on fire, I get called in like I am an Avenger. But when my rent is due? When I get sued? Suddenly, I’m just ‘street-level.’”
Tony: “Sounds about right.”
Peter: "Pay me."
Tony: "I already cover your web fluid and accidental pizza orders."
Thor: "He fights with us! Pay the boy!"
Natasha: "Let’s vote."
Final ruling? Peter still isn’t an Avenger. But he does get Stark’s Netflix password. He takes the win.
Batman and the Justice League are in the Watchtower when some random alien prince lands, takes one look at Robin, and immediately surrenders.
Superman, confused: "I—I don't think we were fighting?" The alien, terrified: "The demon! The tiny death god! We do not anger the Bat's child!" Batman sighs. “Which one?” The alien pales. “THERE ARE MULTIPLE?!” Wonder Woman squints. "Okay, but like… why are they scared of Robin?" And that’s when the League finds out. Apparently, throughout the galaxy, Batman is scary—but his sidekicks? Terrifying. Because Batman won’t kill you. He has a code. He’ll knock you out and leave you gift-wrapped for the cops.
Robin? Robin is unhinged. Robin will dodge every punch you throw and laugh while doing it. Robin will climb on top of you mid-fight and start wailing on your face. Robin will insult your entire bloodline in three different languages while stealing your car. Aliens know not to mess with Robin.
Meanwhile, Bruce is just sitting there, head in his hands. Because he knows exactly where they got it from.
Peter wakes up to an alert from his bank app. "$25,000 has been deposited into your account." Which is weird, because Peter Parker does not have $25,000. He barely has $25.
His first thought? "Oh my god, did I get hacked?" His second thought? "Wait, who would hack me to give me money?" Then he sees the note attached: “For services rendered. Expect more next week.” Services? And that’s when it hits him.
Last week, Spider-Man took down every major crime ring in Queens. Now criminals are just leaving cash in places labeled “For The Spider” like he’s some urban legend crime lord.
The worst part? It’s working. Crime is at an all-time low. Even the cops are impressed. And then it gets worse.
Peter swings down to stop some guy shaking down a bodega owner, webs him to a lamppost, and the guy just nods at him like it’s a business transaction.
"Thanks, boss. Money's already in the usual spot." Peter stares. “I—NO. That’s not—You know you're still going to jail.” But now he just feels bad. Like. The guy thinks he did what he was supposed to.
Captain America is horrified. Tony is proud. Doctor Strange is taking bets on how long this lasts.