When Spidey Met Oracle

There was something he just couldn't get out of that webbed head of his. His life was absolutely insane. As long as he was slinging webs and righting wrongs, it would always be insane. It was so insane he knew in the long run, he'd never survive it. As he pulled them out of the dryer, he knew that some day, he was going to die in those red and blue tights.

And when it really came right down to it, Peter Parker, the less-than-sensational Spider-Man wondered if there was really a woman out there strong enough to put up with him...

*

Barbara Gordon had spent most of her life surrounded by people whose entire world had been changed by a bullet. Being Jim Gordon's daughter as he rose up the ranks to become Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department had certainly seen to that, but it was her decision to don a cape and cowl and fight crime as Batgirl that had absolutely clinched it. But for all the years she stood by her father while he paid his respects to the widows and orphans of fallen officers, or fought alongside Bruce Wayne, who had dedicated his life as Batman to protecting the city where his parents had died in a hail of gunfire, Barbara never thought she'd be one of those people.

It was stupid really.

Her father spent his days trying to clean up one of the most corrupt law enforcement agencies in the country and he certainly had enemies who regularly visited the firing range. She spent her nights punching street hoods and mobsters with a big yellow target emblazoned across her chest. Anyone else would have seen it as all but inevitable. But she had been carefree and hopeful and filled with this faith that things would always go right, like you do when you're young. She thought she would live forever. So would her dad.

Then one night, while visiting her father in that little house in Gotham Heights she'd only just moved out of, she answered a knock at the door and was shot through the spine by the Clown Prince of Crime. Barbara survived, but it was the end of Batgirl. She was paralyzed from the waist down. And just like that, that carefree girl suddenly had cares. She lost hope and she didn't think anything would ever be right again...

But in all the years since it happened, she'd built herself back up out of that place of fear and powerlessness. She learned how to make her way through the world all over again. She found a way to still make a difference. She became Oracle.

Barbara had always been good with computers, but with some focus and determination -- to say nothing of ample free time and some generous funding from the Wayne Foundation -- she became the best. At a time when the world lived or died at the end of a mouse, Oracle was always there, ready to right-click and save everything. It started with a cold case for the Gotham Police Department. Then she started working with the government. When that fell through, she became Batman's primary source for technical support and data retrieval, which was her stepping stone to becoming the premiere information specialist for the superhero set.

More importantly, Barbara had finally made a life for herself that extended beyond the Batcave. She had friends who loved her. People who would die for her just as much as she would for them. It started with Dinah Lance, the Black Canary. After Barbara's covert ops work had dried up, she had anonymously approached Lance as Oracle during a low ebb in the Canary's career and Dinah become her agent in the field... and eventually, her best friend. It was Dinah who'd convince her to bring Helena Bertinelli, Gotham's once-lethal vigilante, the Huntress, into the club. Then it became a bit of a rotating team routine that had included heroes like Big Barda, the new Manhunter and Lady Blackhawk. Barbara wasn't exactly sure when they started calling themselves the Birds of Prey, but it stuck and she liked it better than Oracle and Her Amazing Friends.

And she liked that she had a legacy. Barbara had taken in Cassandra Cain, Bruce's new pick for a replacement Batgirl, and tried to guide the young girl in the role. Given Cassie's arduous upbringing -- she was the daughter of two of the world's most dangerous assassins -- it'd been more than a struggle. Considering the way things had ended between her and Cassie, Barbara couldn't help but feel that she'd failed. She was trying to do better with Stephanie Brown, the new new Batgirl.

A month ago, she'd been using the recently vacated Batcave as her base of operations, but now she had a new home in the recently constructed Kord Tower. Named in honor of the second Blue Beetle, her dearly departed friend Ted Kord, the tower was everything he would have loved -- comfy, private, and jammed to forty stories with bleeding-edge tech. And it was sunny and bright. Just like Ted. During her time as that Dominoed Daredoll, Barbara had spent so much of her time underground, but as Oracle, she liked to sit up in her towers in the sun when she could.

There were still, however, plenty of bats in her belfry...

"I take it Bruce Wayne's done for the day," Barbara said, turning away from her holographic heads-up monitor display as the billionaire philanthropist entered her new command center in full Dark Knight regalia. "Seems a bit early. I didn't think the oh-so elusive Caped Crusader made appearances when there was still daylight."

"It's always dark somewhere in the world," he answered, "and Batman's going to be everywhere now. It's midnight in Tokyo, for example. I'm flying out to scout a potential recruit."

Bruce Wayne had recently announced to the world that he'd been secretly funding Batman's activities in Gotham City since the beginning, and Wayne was now planning to expand this financial support to other crime fighters all over the globe. It was a surprisingly bold move on his part. Batman... Incorporated.

"Are you taking the Batplane?" she asked.

"Corporate jet," he replied. "Why?"

"If you're going as Bruce Wayne, what's up with the costume?"

"I'm taking Selina with me," he told her. "She... likes the cape and cowl."

Jesus Christ, Catwoman, she thought, rolling her eyes and turning back to her work.

"You haven't been sleeping, Barbara," Batman observed. "I don't have to be the world's greatest detective to see it."

"Norman Osborn might be in prison, but that doesn't mean he's been shut down," she said. "I've been trying to minimize his impact on the geo-political landscape, but he had his creepy little fingers in a lot of dangerous pies. Even I'm struggling to keep track of them all."

"I've dealt with Osborn before," Batman said. "I'm pretty sure he used some of WayneTech's technology for his Green Goblin equipment back in the day. If I remember correctly, he wasn't very good at covering his tracks..."

"He got better," Barbara told him. "A lot better."

"He never should have gotten as powerful as he did," Batman said then. "I should have stopped him when I had the chance, but I didn't think he was a Gotham problem."

"You can't be everywhere at once," Barbara said.

"Though some of us certainly try," he replied, nodding toward her expansive computer array. "By my count, you're coordinating eleven different operations on four continents."

"It just looks like a lot," she said. "Most of these missions run themselves. My operatives find Osborn's unofficial projects, make sure they're not still up and running, and keep them secure until S.H.I.E.L.D. or Checkmate's onsite. I'm really just online for strategic support if it's necessary. And it hasn't been because I'm working with good people."

"That's actually why I stopped by to see you," Batman said delicately. "I understand that you've been recruiting outside your usual ranks a little for this special project of yours."

"I suppose you could say that," Barbara smirked, knowing exactly where this was heading. "I mean, Lady Blackhawk's a hell of a pilot and all, but she can't get Huntress and Black Canary everywhere at once. And Hawk and Dove have been recuperating from that craziness with the Penguin. I've had to contact some of the local talent in some places."

"So, hypothetically, if you needed someone to breach a secured facility in, say, downtown Manhattan, you might use the services of a reformed cat burglar," Batman suggested. "Perhaps even one with a flair for the dramatic who employs a bit of a feline theme?"

"I might do something exactly like that," Barbara said with a sly smile.

"Did you absolutely have to use the Black Cat?" Batman sighed, dropping all pretence. "Gotham's really not that far from New York. And you know how Selina feels about her..."

"Yes I do," Barbara replied, positively beaming now.

"Catwoman's taking it personally," he sighed. "It wouldn't kill you two to try to get along."

"I'm sorry, but me and Ms. Kyle have an unpleasant history that long predates this particular on-again period of your relationship," she said. "And I've got to embrace the little joys in life where I find them."

"Don't we all," he said wistfully.

She turned toward him then. "You seem different, Bruce."

"So do you," the Dark Knight said kindly. "Take this blitz on Osborn, for example. I was... otherwise occupied during much of his directorship of this H.A.M.M.E.R. organization." Batman was, of course, putting it mildly. During Osborn's dark reign, the Dark Knight had been clawing his way up the time stream after being thrown back to the Pleistocene Era by Darkseid's Omega Effect. Everyone thought he was dead. Dick Grayson, his first sidekick, had stepped up to fill the cape and cowl while Bruce was gone. "I understand it was a disaster, but I almost get the feeling you have a personal stake in this, Barbara."

"Maybe I do," she admitted.

Batman hesitated then. "Do you want to... talk about it?"

Barbara actually laughed at that. Dick had warned her that Bruce had changed since his ordeal, but she'd never expected that Grayson meant he'd gotten anything close to sentimental. "It's nothing, Bruce," she finally said. "I'm just a little worried that the new man in charge might not be up to the task of dismantling the less savory elements of the Green Goblin's underworld."

"You're doubting Steve Rogers?" he said with a small smile. "I've taught you well."

"Starting with the fall of Nick Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s been through four major administrative upheavals in the last couple of years," Barbara explained. "Things tend to slip through the cracks with that much chaos sustained over a long enough period of time. Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't the kind of position that allows for a lot of on-the-job training, and our erstwhile Captain America's been through a tremendous amount of stress, what with his death and all..."

"He didn't die," Batman corrected. "It just looked like he died when in fact he was trapped back in time, only for his trusted former partner to assume his mantle. Happens to lots of guys. You're not worried about me, too, are you, Miss Gordon?"

"I worry about all of us, Bruce," she said, "but it's not like you've gotten up to anything as crazy as taking over S.H.I.E.L.D."

At that the Dark Knight actually grinned. "Batman Incorporated's going to leave S.H.I.E.L.D in the dust," he told her with an optimistic conviction she never would have expected from him. "We're about to privatize the Caped Crusade."

*

The life of Jessica Jones-Cage had taken several sharp turns she'd never expected.

At a mere twenty-six years of life, she found herself married to Luke Cage -- Harlem's Hero For Hire and the leader of the New Avengers, a mother to the most beautiful baby in the world, and living in a mansion on Fifth Avenue. While so much of this had seemed the natural result of a very strange life, there were times when Jessica realized that if you hopped onto Doctor Doom's Time Platform and went back in time to visit her a week before her sixteenth birthday to tell her that this is where she'd find herself in ten years, she would have plotzed. And she definitely wouldn't have anticipated the current all-consuming center of her annoyance.

"He was doing it again," Jessica told her husband as he lulled their daughter, Dani, to sleep. "Last night I went out to take a leak only to find him pacing the halls from the goddamn ceiling! I almost shat myself!"

"You tellin' me you don't hover every once in a while?" Luke asked, swaying their baby in the warmth of his powerful brown arms. "Dude's been through some shit. Give him a break, Jess. And keep it down. She's finally asleep."

"This is supposed to be our house, Luke!" Jessica hissed. "I know I should be all impressed that our starter home is Avengers goddamn Mansion and all, but I swear to god, I'd trade it all for an A-frame in Astoria if it meant we didn't have to deal with Peter fucking Parker pacing our ceiling every night."

"I get what you're saying," Luke sighed as he laid their dozing daughter down in her crib. "I really do, Jess. But you don't know Peter like I do..."

"Excuse me?" she shrilled as they left Dani's nursery to enter the adjoining master bedroom. "I practically grew up with him!"

"Yes, I remember," Luke said with an eye-roll. "You had a big ol' schoolgirl crush on him, too. But you only found out he was Spider-Man a few months back. I've known Spidey for a couple of years now, and the one thing anybody who knows him will tell you is that he never asks for help." Jessica softened then, so Luke continued. "He might ask the Human Torch for a hand with the Sandman, or see if Doc Strange can cast a spell to deal with a crazy ex-girlfriend, sure. But he never asks any of us for a loan or a lead on a job or anything else that'd make his personal life any easier. So when he shows up on your doorstep and tells you that he wants -- no -- that he needs to spend a couple of days in one of the many guestrooms of your palatial estate, you gotta be the biggest dick in the world to tell him no."

"You're just lucky you've got the biggest dick in the world," Jessica sighed, tugging his shorts down. "And believe you me, buddy, if I've got to put up with Mr. Mopey Maguire, you're going to put it to good use..."

Luke pulled off his shirt as she took his cock in her mouth. "Damn, woman," he groaned. "You are insatiable."

"Shut up and get the lube."

*

Peter could rattle off the first 150 digits of pi without even thinking about it. He knew where he could find at least twenty different weak-willed criminal snitches for each of the five boroughs on any idle Tuesday. He could rank the best street meat in Manhattan based on the time of day. And yet, somehow the guy who achieved the highest scholastic average in the history of Midtown High School got lost on his way back from the laundry room. Because for all of his brilliance, Peter was clearly an idiot.

He was heading back to his room in his briefs with his freshly cleaned costume in a basket when he realized he'd come up the wrong basement staircase and ended up in the more frequently used west wing. He thought he'd find his way back to his room fairly quickly, but a half hour later, he stopped to take the time to put his mask back on.

In the three days he'd been in the mansion, this had proved an unnecessary precaution, because the only person he'd run into unexpectedly was Jessica Jones. Jessica already knew he was Peter Parker, but she freaked out every time she saw him. Was it because he was always upside down when it happened? Was it possible he was wall-crawling more than he needed to?

The only way Peter's life as Spider-Man had worked was by compartmentalization. When he wasn't in costume, he was the meek, earthbound Peter Benjamin Parker. When he was wearing that mask, though, he was Spider-Man, causally strolling up the walls or clinging to your ceiling. It both proved that he was the real-deal -- any jerk could wear his costume after all -- and it kept him in the proper mind frame.

But again, seriously, he didn't trust Victoria Hand. He really didn't want her to see his true face. If he had to wander around, lost, half-naked with his mask on to make sure that didn't happen, that was fine for now.

All of this had him feeling on edge just then. One of the other reasons he didn't want to live with the team was that Avengers' Mansion was kind of a target. You never knew when some metahuman asshole with an axe to grind would burst through the wall. Peter had learned in the worst possible way that there was evil in the world that had to be fought or it'd take someone else he loved... like Aunt May.

He was just passing the double doors of what he now recognized as the master bedroom when the pounding started...

Thud! Thud! Thud!

At first he assumed it was construction work. There'd been significant damage to the building since that business with Doctor Voodoo, and the crew from Damage Control, Inc. had been working around the clock to fix the place up as soon as possible, but most of the damage had been on the other side of the mansion...

Was it an attack? No. It couldn't be a fight... His spider-sense would have warned him, wouldn't it? But when that first series of steady thumps started to be punctuated by little feminine grunts afterwards, he had to wonder...

"Stop! -- whoulf -- Don't! -- huhn!" he heard.

It took his brain significantly longer to figure things out before certain parts of his body. He didn't realize he had a hard-on until shortly after he heard that first intelligible utterance.

"DON'T STOP FUCKING ME!" Mrs. Cage roared from their bedroom. "TAKE MY ASS, CHOCOLATE THUNDER!"

"M'okay," Spidey murmured as he sprinted along the ceiling and away, dropping the basket as he scramble into the pants of his costume. "Going back to the east wing... Now."

He'd just barely worked the lower half of his costume up to his waist by the time he finally found his room. It hadn't been the easiest thing to do while running along a wall with gravity working sideways.

"Message received!" chirped a high feminine voice from his cell phone as he donned the top half of his suit from the soundproof safety of his temporary living quarters. It was his special, encrypted Spidey-phone. Once he was completely redressed, he checked the text message waiting for him.

Need your body, it read. For work stuff this time. Meet at the usual place. Before sunset.

Peter sighed. His aunt had once told him that there were two types of relationships that defined your life. The kind that got easier with time and the kind that grew more and more complicated. This particular missive had been sent by someone with whom he shared a completely different kind of relationship entirely, because she always thought it was simple, while he felt it only got more convoluted.

That was the thing about exes...

*

It had been suggested to Felicia Hardy on several occasions by a number of her former lovers that she might want to look into therapy. She didn't really blame any of them. Felicia had made it through enough of college to take a psych course or two... She dropped out after being sexually assaulted toward the end of her freshman year by someone she thought she could trust. Someone she was planning to kill before he got his stupid ass killed in a drunk-driving accident. She became the Black Cat shortly thereafter. Her first job was an elaborate plan to break the father she barely knew out of prison so he could die in his home instead of a cell.

So, yes. Felicia clearly had issues.

But it had always made more sense for her to just own those issues rather than try to talk them away with some stranger who didn't really know her. Because the truth of it was, all those people who'd told her she should get professional help didn't want her to do it for her. They wanted her to do it for them. They thought a little psychology would tame her. Make her the dutiful girlfriend ready for that lifetime commitment they so desperately wanted. But Felicia didn't want to be tamed. She liked who she was. Horrific psychological warts and all. Because the woman she'd become would never be a victim again.