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Tim once again removed his helmet, his eyes nervously going from Ricochet to the floor as the Nightingale Tower slowly sunk down into the floor and out of existence behind him. Was he right? Were they meant to beat the bad guys senseless? Sure it's the logical thing but aren't the good guys meant to do good rather than simply deal beatings. Giving the white haired teen a quick wave and an awkward smile, Tim scurried through the open door and out into the corridor, arriving in the elevator within seconds. After a further minute the tailed teen arrived in the building’s main kitchen, which overlooked the main lounge where the huge bay windows of the tower were held, giving anyone in the room the spectacular view of the city of Gotham. 

The all so familiar sight gave Tim a smiled as he poured himself a glass of swash. Yet within seconds he was back to frowning, his mind on what Rivochet had said and done previously. Moving into the lounge, he stood against the window, drinking in hand and stared outwards thinking. This was nothing like Tim expected being a superhero would be like. Of course he understood that she was the bad guy and had to be stopped, but was it really necessary for them to kick the living bejeezus out of them? Tim needed someone to talk to. Someone who he could speak to about his problems. He smiled glumly, only for his reflection to do the same.
That was it! He could call Peter! Why hadn’t he thought of it before? 

Moving quickly, he rushed back to the kitchen, his hands grasping the phone immediately. After putting in the number his “father” had given to him months prior, a familiar voice answered.

“Hello? Peter Parker speaking?”

“Hi… Peter” Tim responded, his voice cracking. “It’s Tim.”

“Tim!” Peter’s voice rose in what sounded like excitement. “How are y’ bud?”

“Could we… um… could we talk please?” Tim asked nervously.

After a short pause Peter replied. “Sure Tim. I should get off work in about an hour. Meet me at that pizza place we went to last time on 3rd? ”

“Okay, bye.” Tim nodded to himself as he hung up the phone, before heading towards the zeta tubes, a spring in his step as he did so. Nothing beat having pizza with Spider-Man in New York!