The Next Day
The city breathed beneath him.
Gotham at night never truly slept it just shifted into a lower, more dangerous register. Sirens wailed somewhere far off. Neon bled into puddles on cracked rooftops. Wind tugged at the hem of Alex's hoodie as he sat on the edge of the building, legs dangling over nothing, sneakers tapping absently against concrete.
His elbows rested on his knees, hands laced together, head bowed like the weight of the city had finally settled on his shoulders. The hoodie was pulled tight against the cold, but it didn't help much. Not against the knot in his chest.
Behind him, something moved and Alex didn't turn. He didn't need to.
Cassandra landed on the rooftop without a sound.
She straightened beside him, cape settling, mask reflecting the city lights. Orphan in full silhouette and she stood there for a moment, watching him, reading him the way she always did. His posture. His breathing. The way his foot kept tapping faster than necessary.
"You're gonna crease the concrete if you keep doing that," Alex muttered.
Cass tilted her head slightly.
"…Sorry."
Alex snorted softly. "No, not you. Me. I'm arguing with myself again."
She stepped closer, stopping just beside him.
Alex stared out at Gotham. "My mom thinks New York will be good for us. Fresh start. Better opportunities. Less… this." He gestured vaguely at the city. "Less Arkham. Less explosions. Less lightning-powered existential trauma."
Cass said nothing.
"That's the problem," Alex continued, voice tightening. "Gotham needs someone. It's always on the edge. And I…." He swallowed. "I just started making a difference."
Cass shifted, finally sitting beside him, boots resting firmly on the rooftop. Her gaze followed his, scanning the city as if memorizing it.
"…You already did," she said quietly.
Alex shook his head. "No. I mean yeah, maybe but not enough. I leave, and what happens when the next Max shows up? Or the next Arkham riot? Or….."
"…We handle it," Cass said simply.
Alex turned to her. "That's not fair. You shouldn't have to."
Cass met his eyes through the mask and says
"We always do."
He looked away again, jaw tight. "But I'm supposed to help. That's what I do. That's who I am."
Cass watched him for a long moment.
Then, softly: "You are."
Alex blinked. "What?"
"You help," she said. "But right now… you're still learning who you are without us."
He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She stood, stepping in front of him just enough that he had to look up at her.
"You have a safety net here," Cass said. "Dick. Bruce. Steph. Tim. Jason. Me." A pause. "That's good. But you lean on it."
Alex bristled. "I don't…."
"You do," she said gently. Not accusing. Just honest. "And that's okay. But New York…" She searched for the words. "…New York won't catch you if you fall."
That landed harder than any punch.
Alex stared at his hands. "So what, I just leave? Hope I grow into someone better?"
Cass nodded once. "You will."
Silence stretched between them, filled only by the wind.
"…I don't want to go," Alex admitted. His voice cracked just a little. "I don't want to leave you."
Cass's shoulders softened and she stepped closer, then reached up and unhooked her mask.
Alex froze.
Her face was calm, eyes steady, city light catching in them like stars she never talked about. She leaned down, just enough, and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.
Alex's brain completely shut off and Cass pulled back, a faint smile touching her lips.
"I'll visit," she murmured. "But see you later, Spider-Man."
Then she stepped back, slipped the mask on, and without another word vaulted off the roof disappearing into Gotham's shadows like she always did.
Alex stood there blinking and breathing but proceesing absolutely none of it.
"…She kissed me," he whispered.
The world tilted and Alex fainted backward, hitting the rooftop with a dull thump as Gotham continued on like nothing monumental had just happened.
Timeskip
New York
The moving truck groaned to a stop in front of the apartment building, its engine rattling like it was just as tired as the people inside it. The city around them never slowed but for a moment, Alex just stood on the sidewalk and stared.
Sarah Ross stepped out of the car first, rolling her shoulders like she was shaking off the weight of the past few weeks. She looked up at the building, then at the skyline beyond it, rain clouds drifting lazily between steel giants.
"Well," she said, forcing brightness into her voice, "home sweet… temporary home."
Alex snorted quietly and grabbed the first box from the truck. "That's one way to sell it."
They worked in an easy rhythm, the kind that only came from years of shared struggle. Sarah carried the lighter boxes filled with books, clothes, framed photos she refused to part with while Alex handled the heavier ones without complaint. She noticed, of course. She always did.
"Don't overdo it," she said for the third time, hands on her hips.
"I'm fine, Mom," Alex replied, not even out of annoyance but just familiarity. "You raised a very capable son."
She smiled at that, a real one this time. "I raised a stubborn one."
Hours later, sweat-soaked and sore, the last box was hauled inside. The apartment was small but clean, sunlight spilling through the windows like the city itself was peeking in. It wasn't Gotham. It didn't brood. It breathed.
Sarah checked her watch and winced. "Okay… I hate this part."
Alex leaned against the counter. "First day?"
She nodded. "Daily Bugle waits for no one." She hesitated, then stepped closer, straightening his hoodie collar like he was still ten years old. "You sure you'll be okay here alone?"
Alex met her eyes. There was a thousand things he wanted to say about Max, about promises, about a city he felt like he was abandoning but instead he just nodded. "Yeah. I've got it."
She studied him for a long moment, seeing more than he ever said. Then she pulled him into a hug, tight and grounding, the kind that reminded him he was still someone's kid.
"I know this wasn't easy," she murmured. "But I believe in you. I always have."
"I know," Alex said softly. "Be safe, okay?"
She laughed. "I'm a reporter, sweetheart. Danger is basically in the job description."
And then she was gone with the door clicking shut behind her.
The apartment felt quieter without her. Alex stood there for a moment before walking over to his bag. He reached inside and pulled out the sleek black briefcase Bruce had given him. His fingers hesitated on the latch.
Inside was the suit. Perfect. Advanced. Built by someone who knew exactly how dangerous this life could be.
He opened it halfway… then stopped.
Cass's voice echoed in his head, calm and honest.
"You have a safety net here."
"That's good. But you lean on it."
Alex exhaled slowly and closed the case.
Instead, he reached into the closet and pulled out a bundle of old fabric that was frayed red and blue, stitched unevenly, burned and torn from nights where he'd barely made it home. His first suit. His start.
He spread the pieces out on the floor and got to work.
An hour later, he stood in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, adjusting the mask. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't meant to be but it was his.
Alex climbed onto the windowsill, city wind rushing in, and without another thought he jumped and the web caught, the swing followed, and suddenly New York unfolded beneath him in motion and light.
He stopped a carjacking with a laugh and a wrist flick.
Helped an old woman cross the street, earning a stern thank-you and a smile.
Saved a cat from a tree and got scratched for his trouble.
It wasn't glamorous but it mattered.
Eventually, he landed on a rooftop and caught his breath. His eyes lifted and froze.
A massive skyscraper loomed nearby, sleek and gleaming. The name OSCORP was stamped across its side in bold green letters.
"Huh," Alex muttered. "Heard Bruce talking about this place. New tech company… rivaling LexCorp and Wayne Enterprises."
His spider-sense flared.
A distant alarm wailed through the city and Alex straightened, cracking his neck. "Yeah," he said quietly, launching himself back into the night. "Job's never finished."
Timeskip
The skylight didn't shatter when Spider-Man dropped through it.
It complained.
Glass spiderwebbed outward as Alex slipped cleanly through the opening, twisting midair and landing in a low crouch on the polished marble floor of the bank lobby. His sneakers barely made a sound.
Alex's eyes flicked from one to the next and he straightened slowly, hands on his hips.
"…Okay," he muttered, tilting his head. "Real question. Why do you need this many people to rob one bank? Is there a group discount I don't know about?"
One of the gunmen shouted, "IT'S THE SPIDER!"
"Wow," Alex said, mock offended. "No 'hello,' no 'hands up,' no 'please cooperate.' Customer service is really going downhill."
They opened fire with Alex was already moving.
His spider-sense flared, a sharp electric hum behind his eyes, mapping trajectories before the bullets even left the barrels. He slid sideways, rounds chewing into marble where his head had been a heartbeat earlier, then vaulted off a pillar, flipping over the gunfire.
"Okay! Aggressive negotiation style!" he called out mid-flip.
He fired twin webs downward, yanking two gunmen together so hard their helmets clacked with a hollow bonk. They crumpled instantly.
Alex landed on the wall, stuck there sideways like gravity was optional. Another burst of gunfire tore past him.
He sighed. "Guys. Come on. I just moved here."
He pushed off the wall and vanished into motion.
A web snapped around a rifle barrel, wrenching it from a man's hands and slingshotting it across the room and straight into a second gunman's chest, knocking him flat. Alex landed behind a third, tapped him on the shoulder and webbed his mask to the floor when he turned.
"Tag," Alex said cheerfully. "You're it. And by it, I mean unconscious."
Three more rushed him at once.
In Gotham, this would've been messy. But here Alex barely broke stride.
He ducked under a swing, planted a foot on a vault door, and kicked off, spinning through the air. His heel clipped one man's jaw, momentum carrying him into the second, while Alex fired a web behind him that yanked the third face-first into a desk.
"Multitasking!" he said. "Very big for me right now!"
A shotgun blast roared that was too close.
Alex leaned just enough for the pellets to miss his head, then flicked his wrist. Webbing wrapped around the gun, sealed the trigger, and glued the weapon to the ceiling.
The gunman stared at it.
"…Huh," Alex said. "That's awkward."
He gently pushed the man over and the rest scattered, shouting, trying to reposition.
Alex rolled his shoulders.
A man dove behind a teller counter and fired blindly.
Alex vaulted over the counter, landed in a crouch, and stared at him upside-down.
"Hey," he said. "This is a no-shoes, no-shirt, no-armed-robbery kind of establishment."
He webbed the guy to the floor before he could blink.
Another gunman charged, swinging his rifle like a bat.
Alex caught it with one hand and the man froze and Alex looked at the rifle. Then at him. Then sighed. "Buddy. Upper body day skipped you."
He snapped the rifle in half and tapped the man's forehead with the broken stock. Lights out.
The remaining five panicked.
One tried to run for the exit but Alex shot a web at the revolving doors, sealing them shut. "Sorry! Bank's closed! Try again during normal business hours!"
Another leapt for a hostage who was a terrified teller frozen behind her station.
Alex was there instantly and the man barely had time to register the sudden weight before Alex slammed him into the floor, pinning him with one knee.
Alex's voice dropped still calm, but with iron underneath it.
"Don't," he said quietly.
The man stopped struggling.
Alex webbed him up and stood, offering the teller a hand. "You okay?"
She nodded shakily. "Y-yeah."
"Cool," Alex said. "Take a breath. Police are on the way. Also you're doing great."
She blinked. Smiled despite herself.
The last four opened fire together and Alex sprinted toward them.
Bullets screamed past as he zigzagged, vaulted off a wall, swung from a chandelier, and landed in their midst like a red-and-blue meteor.
Webs fired nonstop.
One stuck to the ceiling.
One stuck to a pillar.
Two stuck to each other back-to-back.
Alex landed in front of them, hands on his hips, chest barely rising.
"…And that," he said, looking around at the webbed-up lobby, "is why crime doesn't pay. Or stretch. Or breathe."
Sirens wailed in the distance and Alex checked his count again, scanning the room.
He blinked.
"…Wow," he muttered. "That was actually kind of easy."
Alex smiled under his mask.
"Guess I'm doing okay," he said softly.
Spider-Man swings off.