Chapter Text
Titans East
Steel City – Titans East Tower, Aerial Approach – 10:23 AM
The Javelin began its descent in a smooth arc, engines shifting to vertical thrust as they crested the Spark Line. Wind curled along the tower’s edges, tugging gently at the stabilizers.
The Titans East Tower rose like a monument above the city, modern and bold—steel and composite alloys gleaming in the sun—strategic and symbolic. A statement to Steel City and the world that the next generation of heroes stood watch.
Peter was halfway through suiting up in Webby3.5, fingers securing the final seal at the wrist. The suit clung like a whisper, responsive and sleek; not flashy—very official-looking. Like how Dick had looked at the launch point: composed, in command. Peter didn't want to fake it. He wanted to earn that kind of presence.
Below them, Steel City sprawled out. No longer the rustbelt graveyard of old.
Once-faded mills now housed cutting-edge quantum computing startups.
Former factories repurposed into vertical farms and biotech zones.
Autonomous construction units wove new skyline veins, tuned for metahuman resilience and response.
A living city; bright, reborn, and humming with intention.
Peter adjusted his mask, gaze fixed on the tower growing in the viewport. “Guess this is home for the next month,” he murmured.
Victor leaned near the cabin door, arms folded, grinning faintly. “Welcome to the Spark Line, Spider-Man. Let’s get you checked in.”
The Javelin touched down with a quiet thrum. Landing gear hissed, ramp descending with a smooth mechanical sigh.
Waiting at the edge of the platform stood a tall figure in red and gold, arms crossed, black hair pulled back, looking every bit the seasoned sentinel. Not statuesque, but alive, alert, and solid.
Wonder Girl.
Peter slowed for a beat. He didn’t know her real name. Only her presence. The same way one clocked a stormfront moving in—calm for now, but not to be taken lightly.
“That's Wonder Girl, right?” he asked.
Victor nodded. “She’s co-lead while Gar's off-world with Rayner and Palmer. And before you ask—no, that doesn’t mean fewer drills.”
Peter snorted, then composed himself and followed Victor down the ramp. The wind hit him first—salt and ozone, sharp and cold. The sea far below still crashed against the cliff base like it remembered where the Tower used to stand.
Wonder Girl approached with long strides, assessing him with a calm, military poise.
“Spider-Man,” she said, not warm, but not cold either. Measuring new blood.
Peter straightened. “Hey. Thanks for the—uh—having me.”
She tilted her head. “That’s one way to say it.”
Victor cut in with a smirk. “Where’s Arsenal?”
Wonder Girl rolled her eyes. “Recalled. Green Arrow needs him back in Star City. Got the ping while you two were en route.”
“Huh. Interesting start to the day.” Victor exhaled, turning to Peter. “So that puts us at four. You, me, Wonder Girl, and Solstice. But we’ll be fine. The temp roster arrives soon. In the meantime, you’re helping me field test the new trainee intake system.”
Peter nodded, then glanced around as they entered the Tower’s front concourse—light-filled and quiet, polished but lived-in. “Where’s Kaldur? I thought he was doing the leadership track here too.”
Wonder Girl turned slightly, answering before Victor could. “He was supposed to. But Aquaman requested him personally. Something about royal obligations and… well—Sub Diego.”
Peter blinked behind his mask. “Wait. Sub Diego? You mean San Diego?”
Wonder Girl gave a dry smirk. “San Diego used to exist. Long story short—it sank. Whole chunk of the coast just… dropped. Atlantis bought the ruins, renamed it. Kaldur’s helping with the retrofits and diplomacy.”
Peter stared. “The U.S. government sold a city to Atlantis?”
Victor patted his shoulder. “Yeah, wild, right? Government signed the paperwork like it was a zoning deal. Now it’s all underwater embassies and press briefings.”
He gestured to the hallway. “C’mon, let’s get you scanned in and synced. Your orientation starts now.”
Peter followed, his mind already racing to catch up: a sunken city, a sold coastline, and a month of proving himself with only three others on-site. Yeah. No pressure.
He took a look around as the sea breeze cut past him. His gaze drifted to the perimeter wall that traced the outer edge of the compound—sleek, reinforced, and topped with mounted sensors. A low hum buzzed from the towers spaced evenly along the ridgeline.
Scanning pylons. Anti-drone lattice. And are those pulse-band filtration with…
“Admiring my handiwork?” Victor said, catching the look.
Peter tilted his head. “Yeah. It’s cool. That sensor ring—it's running pulse-band filtration with a smart handoff, right? Like a mesh, but it zones by movement type.”
Victor’s eyebrow lifted, amused. “Not bad. You’re within ten percent of my actual spec.”
Peter shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
“Sure it was.” Vic smiled as he walked them toward the entrance alcove.
Wonder Girl was already moving, stride purposeful. As she stepped through the tall entry frame, a horizontal strip of soft blue light swept over her from head to toe.
“Designation: M-02. Welcome.”
Vic followed next. The scanner hummed again.
“Designation: T-04. Welcome.”
Peter paused just shy of the threshold, eyes glued to the tech. Lidar tracks, thermal mapping, probably some kind of psionic-layer defense—he was practically vibrating with curiosity. His duffle and backpack thudded quietly to the side as he set them down.
Victor gave a chuckle and waved him forward. “C’mon, man. Let’s get you scanned and synced. It won’t bite.”
Peter exhaled and stepped through. The scanner swept over him—cool and whisper-quiet.
“Designation pending. Temporary ID confirmed. Please proceed to orientation.”
Peter grinned under the mask. Yeah. I could get used to this.
Steel City – Titans East Tower, Upper Levels – 10:48 AM
The elevator ride was silent for most of the ascent; quiet hum, soft internal lighting, a faint view of the sky through the vertical slit behind them. Wonder Girl stood with arms crossed, stoic. Victor had a more relaxed posture, but his eyes were scanning something on his internal HUD. Peter fidgeted slightly, resisting the urge to ask a dozen questions at once.
When the doors slid open, warm light spilled in.
A woman was already waiting.
Golden skin. Hair like the sun had been pulled into strands and set drifting. Soft features, calm and composed, but eyes sharp with awareness. She gave Peter a friendly smile as they stepped out.
“I’m Kiran,” she said, her voice accented, but smooth. “Codename’s Solstice.”
Peter nodded quickly. “Spider-Man. Uh, Peter. Either works.”
Kiran gave a short nod and stepped aside as Wonder Girl took point again, already shifting into briefing mode.
Victor gestured down the hall. “Let’s start with your room. After that, we’ll hit the rest.”
They turned down a curved corridor, lights adjusting automatically to their presence. It smelled faintly of clean polymers, like fresh electronics and climate-controlled air. They stopped at a doorway with a biometric reader.
Victor tapped it. “Already tied to your DNA. Go on.”
Peter stepped through—and stopped. It was… massive—at least to him.
The corner room was spacious. Sleek design, cool grays and brushed silvers with warm accents.
Two of the walls were full glass—floor-to-ceiling panels that curved slightly with the Tower’s geometry.
One wall looked out north, toward the denser sectors of Steel City, with its vertical towers and innovation districts.
The other faced east—straight to the open ocean, the cliff line, and the snaking coastal roads.
There was even a balcony node embedded in the corner glass, recessed and sealable.
“Wow,” Peter breathed. “This is…”
Victor smirked, stepping up beside him. “Privacy tint is active. No one can see in—not even drones. Smartglass tech in the outer paneling adjusts to weather, lighting, and surveillance signals. Now watch this.”
He reached toward the edge of the window. A thin pane slid out—a hidden control surface—and bloomed to life in Victor’s touch. A HUD shimmered in the air, tactile and floating.
“You’ve got full interface access,” he explained. “You can take calls, run diagnostics, stream your suit’s camera to the ops floor, order parts or materials from the fabrication bay, launch simulation scenarios, stream literally any media you want, and if you say the word ‘Kitchensync’ near it, it’ll take grocery or snack requests to the pantry queue.”
Peter blinked. “Wait, like… right now?”
Victor smiled. “Tower learns your habits, preferences. Everything gets stored to your personal profile. That means no matter which Titans base you end up in, it’ll reconstruct this interface.”
Peter gave a soft, amazed laugh and finally let go of his gear—he dropped his roller luggage by the foot of the built-in bed, then his duffle and backpack near the desk area. He took one last look at the view before turning to follow them.
They moved on.
Victor led them through the winding core levels:
The kitchen was sleek and open-concept, clearly used often but well-maintained. Touchscreen panels sat above every prep surface. The fridge was massive. There was a smoothie dispenser that Peter stared at for a second too long.
The gravity gym took up nearly an entire floor. Equipment ranged from free weights to suspended training drones, balance fields, and pressure-adjusting treadmills. In one corner, a specialized lifting rig sat nestled in reinforced anchors, connected to a gravity modulator.
Victor saw where Peter’s gaze landed. “Yeah. You’ll like that one. You’re still working up to your consistent twenty-ton mark, right?”
Peter looked at him, surprised. “How did you—?”
“Dick. He’s got notes on all the cohort candidates. We compared.”
Peter rubbed the back of his neck, oddly flattered.
The rec room was warm and colorful. A sprawling L-shaped couch, gaming setups, holotable in the center, and even an old-fashioned pinball machine. Kiran made a note of pointing out which games were always in tournament rotation. Peter caught the grin Wonder Girl shot her when she said it.
The workshop and fabrication bay made Peter stop again. Rows of modular tables, tools organized by size and frequency, and an entire fabrication arm station running along the far wall. The tower’s AI chimed in here and there, naming resources or walking through available materials.
“You’ll get a full walkthrough later,” Victor said. “But you’ve got clearance for Tier 2 equipment. Ask me before trying anything with volatile components.”
Peter mumbled, “That’s fair.”
Finally, they reached the internal hangar.
Two massive transport ships rested on elevated docks—sleek, matte black hulls with the Titans logo etched in metallic blue. They were shaped like birds of prey, all wings and propulsion flares.
“These beauties,” Victor said, his voice swelling a bit with pride, “are mine.”
Peter raised a brow. “Wait, like—you designed them?”
“Top to bottom,” Victor said. “Mobile command bases if we need them. Each has its own fabrication loadout, deep comms range, full intel suite, and onboard shelter space for emergency evac. This is our primary deployment method for Earth-based missions. Javelins are for the League. And for off-world.”
Peter slowly walked toward one of them, mouth slightly open. “They look like… flying fortresses.”
Victor grinned. “Good. That means I did it right.”
Peter turned back to the group, taking it all in. Not just the Tower, but the scale of it. The systems, the preparedness, the feeling that everything here was designed with intention and capability in mind. Titans East wasn’t some junior camp.
This was a real team, and he was in it.
Titans East Tower – Peter’s Room – 11:19 AM
Victor left him with a quick fist bump and a “holler if you short out the shower controls,” before the door hissed shut behind him.
Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The room had looked big when he first stepped in—but now, exploring it alone, he was beginning to grasp the actual scale. Especially when he opened the door to the bathroom.
“Holy moly…”
It was bigger than the living room back at his old place. Spacious shower with cascading head options. Heated tile. Backlit mirror. The whole thing looked like it belonged in a Stark-designed hotel suite. And it was his for the month.
He shook himself out of the moment and went back to his gear, unzipping the roller luggage and duffle to start organizing—he liked knowing where his stuff was. Even when everything else in his life wasn’t.
A few minutes in, a knock tapped on the door. He paused, turned, and opened it.
Wonder Girl stood there, less imposing than before—still solid, still composed, but now her expression was warmer. She didn’t lead with posture this time. She led with presence.
“Hey,” she said. “Thought I’d properly introduce myself. Donna.”
Peter gave a small nod, surprised but appreciative. “Peter. But… yeah, you probably knew that… considering you were standing nearby.”
Donna smiled faintly. “I did. I also know you haven’t sparred with an Amazon yet.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“I’ve heard from Diana and Dinah about your style. How you move. They don’t agree on many things—but they both said you fight smart. Adaptive. Fluid.”
Peter scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I try.”
She tilted her head. “I’d like to test that. When you’re settled.”
“Oh—definitely. I’d love to. That sounds awesome.”
Her smile grew, just a little. “Good. I’ll see you later, then.”
She turned and walked off without ceremony. Confident people didn’t linger on their own offers.
Peter closed the door gently, a small grin stuck to his face.
He went back to unpacking, sliding shirts into drawers, setting up his backup web cartridges in the slim storage cabinet near the desk. Then—carefully—he unzipped the hidden side pocket of his backpack.
There it was.
Wrapped in its microfiber wrap, sealed exactly the way he’d left it. His Stark-built phone. And right beside it, his old wallet—leather edges still bent from years of cramming it into his suit’s back compartment. Both carried legacy weight.
He stared at both for a moment. He hadn’t brought them for function, not really.
More like… reminders.
Reminders of where he came from. Of who he used to be. Of the people who’d believed in him enough to shape him, and the ones who’d been lost before they could see him become anything more.
Reminders of the thing in the void—what had been waiting, what had followed, what might follow still.
And most of all, a reminder that Parker Luck wasn’t a curse—not anymore.
It was a challenge.
One he was finally ready to beat.
For himself and for them.
Titans East Tower – Combat Deck – 12:36 PM
The floor vibrated with each impact.
Peter ducked under a sweeping arc of Donna’s leg, pivoted low, and launched upward into a rising elbow—only for her to deflect it with a shoulder twist, catching his balance off and landing a firm palm strike to his chest. He skidded back across the sparring mat, boots squeaking against the grip-foam surface.
“Okay,” he huffed, rolling his shoulders. “You weren’t kidding about the Amazon thing.”
Donna gave a half-smile, faintly winded but far from tired. “And you weren’t kidding about being slippery.”
They reset without speaking. No countdown. No hand signals. Their rhythm was already synced, built moment by moment. It was technical. And the longer it went, the sharper they both became.
Peter was learning her feints. Donna was adapting to his improvisations.
Off to the side, Kiran sat cross-legged with a container of popcorn, the real kind, buttered and warm. She tilted the tub to follow the action with each sharp pivot and counter. Her eyes tracked every move, her expression an impressed calm.
The door at the back of the deck opened with a hiss.
Peter didn’t hear it. Donna didn’t flinch.
But Kiran smiled slightly and scooted to the side as the arrivals filtered in.
Victor led the way with a data pad in one hand. “Told you he’d be at it.”
Wally was next, of course—arms already crossed and grin firmly in place. “You said sparring. You didn’t say it was with her.”
Conner followed with that easygoing nod of his, watching Peter duck under a kick. “He’s holding his own. Looks like he kept up his training.”
Karen, just behind him, nudged Raquel. “If the workshop’s half as good as Vic said, I’m calling first dibs on the nanoforge.”
Raquel folded her arms. “You can have the forge. I want the energy modulation bench.”
Dinah stood with them, arms crossed, black jacket unzipped over tactical wear. She didn’t say anything yet—simply watched.
Artemis stood near the edge of the deck, stance casual, eyes sharp. She gave Peter a nod when he finally noticed her.
M’gann floated in near the rear, feet hovering slightly off the mat before gently setting down. “It’s good to see you again, Peter. I’m really looking forward to working together again.”
“Same here,” he called back, before pivoting hard to avoid Donna’s jab—and barely did.
The fight wasn’t slowing. If anything, they both had more energy now. The silent audience only added pressure. Or maybe momentum.
Wally leaned toward Vic. “So, what’s the readout?”
Victor glanced at the pad. “He’s processing everything at low-tier precog levels. Not actual precognition, but his spider-sense and reflex loop? It’s impressive. Donna’s forcing him to use more math in his dodging.”
Wally blinked. “Math?”
“He’s calculating her motion in real time. You ever try differential calculus at full sprint?”
Wally grinned. “I am full sprint.”
Vic gave him a look. “Sure, man.”
Peter swept low, caught Donna’s ankle, and finally earned a clean knockdown—but she rolled into it and was already back on her feet before he could capitalize.
Still. It was a point.
He breathed hard, grinning under the mask. His chest rose and fell, limbs buzzing, lungs burning—but in the good way. The kind that meant he was here, really here.
Fighting alongside a team again. Friends. Familiar faces. New ground.
And for the first time since landing in this universe…
It didn’t feel temporary.