2
INTERESTING NEW PEOPLE
It took less than a day for Peter Parker to have his greatest fear confirmed. There was no doubt. Throughout the night he had gathered up whichever scrap of newspaper he could find; whenever he could, he would hang by a window and watch the news on someone else's idiot box. Not once was there any mention of anything that Peter Parker knew about. There was no mention of Captain America, Tony Stark (and that was hard to fathom), or even of Galactus, who had tried to eat the Earth!
Instead, he found references to a Bruce Wayne (undoubtedly the owner of the skyscraper he had just landed on), to a Lex Luthor, to an Oliver Queen, to Oliver Queen's beard, and to a guy called Superman. And of course, there were other names he did not recognize. Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Batman (that one appeared several times), the Flash (but not a Thompson), Wonder Woman (her equipment seemed wonderful and Peter wondered if said equipment was real) and many more. There was a guy called Captain Marvel, who didn't look at all like Captain Marvel – Peter wouldn't have been surprised if that one was an android who could split up into different pieces. He did recognize other names, such as Washington and Lincoln, but others were strange to him.
And then, there were the cities. There was Gotham, a city named after an old Knickerbocker nickname; there was an actual city called Metropolis, rather than just being a metropolis (which was rather presumptuous), and a slew of cities named for their location on the map: Coast City, Central City, Pacific City – Peter wondered if there was a city called Over-There-In-The-Left-Corner City. Luckily, most of the cities he knew did exist. He didn't know about the small towns though. He had to do more digging.
He also had to find a job. Luckily, J. Jonah Jameson had paid him just before his little adventure in the Baxter Building. Unluckily, J. Jonah Jameson had paid him just before his little adventure in the Baxter Building. Which meant that the money in his belt would only last for a few more days; he still had his camera with him, cleverly hidden in his belt buckle, next to his spider-light, and two extra memory chips for it. The memory chip within his camera had photographs from the Earth he left behind – great pictures of himself with Captain America, Thor and Iron-Man. They were worthless here. He could take pictures of himself, but he was pretty much unknown for the first time in a while.
And of course, there was his web-fluid. He had enough cartridges to last for some time, but they weren't infinite. He had to make the stuff. And for that he needed a chemistry set, and money. Which required a job.
Peter Parker was a teenager in a strange world. Finding a job should be as easy as lifting Mount Everest over your head.
Lady Luck was still smiling on Peter for the moment. He had found the perfect temporary shelter, and it happened to be an abandoned clothing store. He had spent the rest of the night there. The clothes were old and many of them torn, but Peter was used to wearing old clothes, and he had the power of spider-weaving to fix the torn bits of cloth. Before going out into the daylight, he stitched together an outfit that would at least be passable. He would go out, get food, get a job, get a chemistry set and then, go to the library and learn more about this strange new world and whatever portal technology this world had.
The youth opened the front door of the abandoned store and walked out of it. The morning sun greeted him with warmth that wasn't excessive. He closed the door behind him. He looked about, wondering where he should go.
He looked to his left, and went into that direction. He entered every store and every diner he could, asking if they were hiring. So far, no one was. Peter had been told of certain alternatives; of course, he would not take them.
His stomach began to rumble as he passed a hot dog stand. The smell coming out of the cart set filled his mouth with saliva. He knew that it was most likely that these hot dogs had rats and parasites in them, fit only for the alien love-child of Cthulhu and a crab, but he was hungry. He took out a few bills and bought a chili dog. Whether the dog was dirty or not, or an actual dog, Peter could not ascertain, but it did taste good, and it filled his stomach. But he now only had enough money for one more meal. He would have to find a job, soon.
At last, Peter came upon a fast food joint. BIG BELLY BURGER, the big white letters on the façade said. The building itself looked old; there was even a payphone nearby. The teenager approached, and a sign on the window said "It's OK to be BIG". Peter raised an eyebrow. Never had he seen a fast food joint proudly proclaim its noxious effects before. The Kwikkee Burger joints back home at least pretended to give you a beautiful, Adonis like physique. He didn't know how the Burger Frog marketing went – all he knew was that he hoped to never work in one after a very bad visit.
Beneath the ridiculous sign that said it was fine to be a fat lard bucket, there was another sign, offering employment – immediate employment. Now here was an opportunity. Peter had never worked in a fast food restaurant before, but he knew plenty that accepted kids his age as employees without asking any questions. His spider-sense wasn't picking up too much danger, so he walked in.
The place was practically empty, except for two people sitting behind two separate tables eating the ugliest burgers Peter had ever seen in his short life-span. He looked around, and the only employees about were two people behind the register, a black teenager, about seventeen years of age, who seemed bored out of his mind, and a chunky blue haired woman who seemed too old to be in a place like this. They both wore orange shirts, which he presumed to be their uniforms. Peter took a deep breath and he walked up to the counter.
"Good morning, welcome to Big Belly Burger. How may I help you?" the blue haired woman said. The badge on her orange shirt said that her name was Mandy.
"Good morning Mandy" Peter said, somewhat awkwardly. He thrust his thumb over his shoulder, behind him where he reckoned the sign was "I'm here because of the job"
The black teenager suddenly perked up, as if Peter's candidacy was a welcomed break from routine.
"Let me handle this" the teenager said.
Mandy looked at the young man and frowned lightly.
"Okay Reggie, you've got this one. But don't scare him away"
Reggie made a face.
"You're the one who scares them away" Reggie turned to Peter and then pointed at a table "Sit over there. I'll be with you in a second"
Peter looked around again, setting his eyes a second time on the restaurant's two patrons. They didn't seem to notice the youth looking at them; they probably wouldn't have cared. Peter then went to the table and sat down.
Reggie came out, carrying a cheap looking piece of paper.
"Hello there. I'm Reggie Scott" he said, extending his hand to Peter.
"I'm Peter Parker" said the youth, taking Reggie's hand and shaking it.
Once Peter let go, Reggie began to rub his hand. It was only then that Peter realized that he may have squeezed a bit too hard.
"You've got quite a grip Pete" Reggie said, his humor undefeated.
"I've been exercising" Peter replied.
"I exercise myself. So, you want to be a proud member of the Big Belly Burger Family, a subsidiary of Lexcorp?"
Reggie made it sound like a bad thing. But Peter really needed the job until he found a way out of this world.
"Yes"
"Good answer. Anyway, as you can see here, we've only got a few people working this joint. This place looks empty now, but around noon, it gets crowded, and fast, and it only gets empty at around four, so you're practically a shoe-in. You don't even have to give us a CV. All you have to do is fill out this form, and you'll get paid 5 bucks per hour. This place will pay you fifty bucks if you start today. You can choose to work during the morning shift or the afternoon shift. It's all the same."
What Reggie said had sounded like something that could be exploitative, but there wasn't much of a choice, and Peter wasn't so desperate for a job that he would stay if things were going a bit too tough. He looked at the form. And that's when he had a few problems.
Of course, the form requested – or rather demanded – the applicant's phone number, name of legal guardian (if applicant was a minor), address, social security number, etc. Big Belly Burger surprised Peter with its business ethics.
He was actually hoping that this place would be sleazy enough for him to not worry about that.
"Do I really need to give you all of this information?" Peter asked in a half joking tone.
"You do" Reggie said with seriousness. It seemed he had met runaways who didn't want to divulge their identities "An O'Shaughnessy's not far from here was shut down because they didn't ask their employees for their personal information"
Peter sighed. He could feel that he couldn't bluff his way out of this situation. And he didn't know anyone in this world. The only other person he had ever spoken to was the girl he had saved.
A girl who had given him her card.
"Could I be excused?" Peter said suddenly.
Reggie looked at the youth as if he had just rejected the job offer.
"Sure" he said.
Peter got up and ran out the door.
"I told you not to scare the recruits" Mandy said, yelling at Reggie, who just shook his head, wondering why he was still there himself.
However, Peter hadn't gone too far. He ran right towards the payphone and as luck would have it, it was one of the old types that required coins. And Peter had quite a few coins left. He took out the card Bette Kane had given him. He dialed the number.
The youth crossed his fingers, hoping that the woman hadn't met further misfortune on the previous night.
The phone began to ring. It rang another two times before there was an answer.
"Hello?"
Peter recognized the voice immediately. He was about to answer when he remembered that she had met Spider-Man, not Peter Parker. In a hurry, Peter pulled out his mask and covered the phone's microphone with it, hoping to replicate Spidey's muffled voice.
"Ms. Kane, I'm glad to see that you're OK. Or hear that you're OK."
There was a moment of silence.
"It's you! The Spider-Man!" she then exclaimed
"Of course!" Spider-Man said lightheartedly. However, his tone soon became more serious "Ms. Kane, I'm very sorry to bother you, but you're the only one I know here, and I'm in a bit of a jam"
"What's wrong?"
Peter hesitated, thinking about what he was going to say to the woman, without revealing his secret identity.
"There's this kid I know. His name is Peter Parker, and he's from out of town, just like me. I owe his uncle a great deal and I'm supposed to help him out, but I can't. He's being chased by an evil demon…" Spider-Man paused "…called Dormammu. Anyway, he's here looking for a job at a Big Belly Burger restaurant and he needs an address, a phone number and a social security number. I was wondering if you could lend him a hand?"
After a moment, Bette replied:
"How old is this kid?"
Spider-Man sighed. He considered lying to her but that always led to further grief.
"Fifteen"
"He shouldn't be working at Big Belly Burger. I'll take him in"
"What? No, he can take care of himself"
"No he can't. Didn't you say that you owed his uncle?"
"Y-yes"
"And aren't you a superhero? Then give me the kid's location and tell him I'm coming for him"
Peter sighed. He looked towards the sign
"He's at 42 Finger Street"
"Tell him to wait for me" Bette said "What does he look like?"
Spider-Man sighed
"Normal, with short hair." he looked down at himself "He's wearing old clothes"
"Alright then. Tell him to stay put. I'll be there in a jiffy" she then hung up.
Peter placed the receiver back in its place. His mask went back into his pocket. The teen looked at the Big Belly Burger restaurant. It seemed that he wasn't going to work there after all. He wondered if that was good or bad.
Twenty minutes later a sports car of a type Peter had never seen before appeared around the corner, and slowed down next to him. The passenger window rolled down, and Bette stuck her head out.
"Are you Peter?" she asked
"Yes" the youth said "Peter Parker. I'm being chased by Dormammu, which is why I'm not at home" the teenager nodded his head nervously. The exposition was clumsy, but he still hoped it was convincing enough.
Bette opened the door and got out of the car. Obviously, someone was there with her (otherwise, who would have driven the car); in this case it was a young man of about eighteen years of age.
He was dark haired, tall, handsome. Looked like an acrobat. He was the type of guy that always got the girl. The car was probably his. Peter wondered if his name was Ned. He looked like a Ned, or at least, a Ted. Of course, he wasn't blond, but still, he had the look.
"Hello Peter, I'm Bette Kane" she said extending her hand. Nervously, Peter shook it. "I'm sure your mysterious friend told you about me" she continued.
"Yes he did" Peter said.
Bette looked at Peter.
"Well, you certainly are dressed in old clothes. Where are the rest of your things?" she asked
Peter shrugged.
"This is all I have"
Bette's eyes widened.
"Don't be shy, get in" she said, opening the back door for him. Peter nodded and added a smile to that nod, and he slipped into the backseat.
This was a rich boy's car. The car's leather seats were unusually clean, and unusually comfortable. From what Peter could see of the dashboard, it was filled with gadgets he had never seen before, not even in commercials. At the back of Bette's seat, right in front of Peter, there was a screen, and lodged within a shelf-like extension, a video game controller. The kid from New York looked up and saw a plasma screen folded against the car ceiling. This Ned was beginning to irk Peter.
The driver turned to face Peter.
"Hi Peter. I'm Dick. Dick Grayson, age nineteen."
With a car like this, of course you are.
Peter shook Dick's hand.
"Hi" he replied "Is this your car?"
"Yes, and I had to work hard for it, so don't think I'm some spoiled brat. Besides, it's not the coolest car I've been in."
Peter wondered if that was supposed to make him feel better. Without much ado, Dick got to do what he was supposed to, and drive. The car went along, smoothly – it had good suspension.
"Where are you going?" Bette asked as Dick turned a corner.
"Relax, this is a shortcut" Dick replied.
The expensive sports car now entered streets that had seen better days, passing by guys that looked like stereotypical mobsters. Strangely enough, Dick seemed to be looking more at the people on the street than on the road itself. Eventually, the car left the dirty neighborhood, much to Bette's relief. She lightly slapped Dick on the head. The young man let out a yelp.
"Never do that again" Bette said.
The car now entered a finer part of the city. The buildings were cleaner, statelier. They were passing a circular tower with a needle on top, clearly the city's tallest building, when Peter's spider-sense struck him, and hard.
He had never felt anything like this before. This was even worse than Dr. Doom and his Doombots.
"Stop the car!" Peter yelled. It must have been quite a yell, because Dick stopped the car at once.
Peter quickly unbuckled his belt and leapt out, running towards the base of the tower. For a moment, his body seemed to have a mind of its own. Peter's muscles were tensed, ready to launch him up to the tower. He had to rein himself in, and it was a hard effort.
He looked up, nonetheless, and he saw a large, monstrous, blue and gray figure standing in front of the tower's dome. Whoever, or whatever it was, wasn't human, Peter could determine that much. His hands were behind his back, and he seemed to be looking down on the city studiously. He then, thankfully, turned his back. There was a flash of light, and the strange figure was gone.
The startled teen felt a tap on his shoulder. He suddenly turned, his fist ready to punch whoever was behind him. He let his hand fall down to his side when he saw that it was just Dick.
"Is something wrong Peter?" Bette asked. Dick just looked at him.
"I, I thought that I had seen something" Peter said. Clearly they hadn't seen what he had seen, and there was no need to alarm them just yet.
"Dormammu, perhaps?" Dick said lightly.
"Yeah. Maybe"
"Don't think about that" Bette said. She then gave Dick a stern look "And don't you tease him!"
Dick looked genuinely shocked.
"Why would I tease him?"
Bette didn't bother to answer. She got Peter into the car and then she herself got in. Dick was the last to enter.
Peter lost the track of time. He was only aware of his own breathing and his heart beating by the time Bette called out his name.
"What?" Peter asked, looking at the young woman.
"We're here" Bette said.
Peter's eyes rolled about, and he saw that they were in a large garage. He got out and followed Bette and Dick into the elevator.
They exited on the twenty-first floor. Peter followed Dick and Bette down the short hall to the last door. The woman began to fumble about her purse, until she pulled out her keys. Quickly, she opened the door and everyone entered.
The apartment was posh. The furniture, the paintings, the vases, the rug, everything seemed worth more than Peter's sorry life. There were quite a few tennis trophies that seemed to be made of solid gold.
The kid didn't know if he should move around, lest he disturb the filthy rich air.
"Make yourself at home Peter" Bette said. Peter didn't notice the look Dick gave her. He was too busy looking at the corridor. This apartment looked bigger than it should. Bette walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
Peter followed her to a door that was ajar, which the young woman pushed open with the tip of her finger.
"This is your room Peter" she said. Peter's eyes rolled as he looked around. It was a nice looking room. Bigger than his own room back home. Next to were the closet there was an open door. He walked towards it, and saw that it was a bathroom. That saved a lot of trouble.
"It's awesome!" Peter said.
Bette's face glowed as she smiled. She was like those people who work at soup kitchens to make themselves happy.
"My room is better, but I'm glad to see that you're happy. Of course, I don't have any clothes for you – we'll deal with that after lunch – and we'll buy you some pajamas. You don't need to be embarrassed. I'm sure that Dick wears pajamas from time to time."
Dick, who was standing right behind Bette, did a double take. If he had been drinking anything at the time, he would have done a spit-take. Suddenly, Dick's face turned red.
"I don't wear pajamas anymore. I thought that you knew that" he said with embarrassment.
"I still thought that you'd have a few about. You're supposed to be prepared like a madman"
"You're confusing me with someone else" Dick said.
Bette frowned. Peter decided that it was about time that he stepped in.
There was a very awkward moment of silence which Peter had no idea how to break.
"Let's kill our brains with TV!" Bette said cheerfully.
They all left the room, and silently followed Bette into the living room. At its center was a big white sofa that seemed all puffed up. A child would want to jump on it as soon as he laid his eyes on it.
Bette promptly jumped on to the sofa. She picked up a cylinder from a nearby coffee table and pointed it at the big plasma screen television hanging on the wall. The screen went from black to showing an opinionated blond guy staring at the camera with cannibal lust.
"Come on Bette, really? Change the channel now!" Dick said with visible distaste.
"Hell no! I like him, he's silly." Bette replied, clearly enjoying herself too much.
Peter looked back and forth between the two, and then at the screen to figure out what was going on. And then the man spoke.
"So far, all seems well. But wait, before you think of me as an over optimistic boob, I do see problems in the near future,like one of those charlatan psychics that you see on television, or in the Just-Us League. Despite Mr. Luthor's efforts to solve them. I see that the masses still put their trust on the Justice League. We might as well put our faith on the Freemasons, or better yet, the Nazis! They still have not explained to us what has happened with that death machine that months ago was hanging over our heads! Every time an honest reporter just asks an honest question, they get shut down. And these younger superheroes they use, they're no better than juvenile delinquents – juvenile delinquents with the power to kill hundreds."
And suddenly, there was a clip of a young man in a black shirt with a red S on it, snarling and pushing a man away. Dick shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he scowled at the screen.
Peter felt a shock of déjà-vu. Although the man was physically different, the tone, the attitude was almost identical…
"They are a menace! A menace to society!" yelled out the blond man. And that clinched.
Peter's face twisted in horror.
"Good grief! God made two of them!"
Bette and Dick turned to look at Peter. He was at a loss of what to say. Would he blame the flying spaghetti monster? Would he slobber like an idiot? Well, that last one wouldn't be nice; the rug fit well into the room.
"He's like this guy I used to know" Peter replied meekly.
"I'm sorry to hear that" Dick said "No one should ever know a man like G. Gordon Godfrey. And I don't think God's involved in his creation, unless it was a god of evil."
"His initials are G.G.G?" Peter said, astounded. It wasn't far from J.J.J. He looked at the man in the television screen, and pictured him with a mustache. He got chills.
And then, Godfrey continued to speak.
"And when will these so-called superheroes give up the charade? When is Kid Flash going to stop being a coward and reveal to the world that he's still alive? Does he want to be praised and worshipped as a god?"
In a quick movement that amazed even Peter, Dick snatched the remote control from Bette's hand. His thumb went down, and Godfrey was replaced with a commercial for Big Belly Burger.
"I'm sorry" Bette said, distraught "I didn't think that he'd…"
"Don't worry" Dick said in as friendly a tone as he could "His stupid antics make me laugh too. But you should know that he goes too far"
Peter just looked back and forth between the two, wondering what was going on.
Dick suddenly turned to Peter.
"Are you hungry?" he asked
"Yes, I guess…" Peter awkwardly said.
"I'll order a pizza. A big one with extra cheese." Bette said, getting up and grabbing her phone.
In about fifteen minutes, the pizza had arrived. Despite Peter's first impression, Dick proved to be a decent enough young man, ably defusing the tension caused by G. Gordon Godfrey's verbal waste. He and Bette were once again trading barbs. It was clear that the two were in something of a relationship; it wasn't a very tight relationship, but it was strong enough for Bette and Dick to share the apartment after both had returned recently to Gotham from another city called Bludhaven (and what a lovely name that was).
From what he could gather, Bette had indeed returned the day before he had met her. That night she had just left a welcome home party in a friend's mansion when she spotted a superhero called Nightwing and followed him into that dark area of the city where Spider-Man had met her. Dick was concerned, but he was also curious about Spider-Man (saying something about the similarities he had with a guy called Black Spider, who was incarcerated). And before long, he was asking Peter questions about Spider-Man, and this Dormammu that was supposed to be after him.
Through sheer luck, he managed to garble an explanation out of reality and fantasy.
"I was just minding my own business in New York, when this thing came after me, and I had to run" was something he recalled saying. Luckily, Dick didn't press the matter any further. After lunch was done with, Bette took Peter and Dick and dragged them to the swankiest of shopping malls. They spent the better part of the day going from this store and that, sometimes buying things for Peter. Most of the times, Bette was buying things for herself.
Peter did his best to choose clothes that could easily hide his costume, although Bette insisted he look cool. She would have changed his hair and had him grow bangs over his forehead, if she had her way of it.
The teenager was surprised when she bought him a chemistry set (one for adults, and not children), and so thankful that he gave her three pecks on the cheek and a hearty hug. Bette blushed.
"Why can't all men be so sweet?" she said, looking at Dick, who just smirked.
By the time they had returned to the apartment, it was getting dark. They ate dinner (Peter had no idea where the dinner had come from – fried chicken and French fries) and watched television. It took a while before everyone went to bed.
Peter locked the door behind him. He hoped that didn't upset Bette. If she did protest, he would say that he was too used to it at home. But he couldn't afford having her walk in as he changed into his costume.
He clasped the web-shooters around his wrists. And then he pulled the mask down over his head.
Spider-Man quietly opened the window, and he leapt out into the night air. It was cool, and still smelly, but the web-slinger was used to horrible city smells by now, and in an instant, he wasn't bothered by it at all.
He swung through buildings with a goal in sight rather than just hunting for members of the criminal element. However, he did get a chance to deliver old, stale jokes to thieves and muggers. One heard the tired "Hungry? Have a knuckle sandwich", another heard "Sir, do tell me what the soles of my feet look like" and another was unfortunate enough to be greeted with "Someone's cruisin' for a bruisin'". One had to hear "Oh look, your face blocked my fist; you must be a master martial artist". Altogether, it wasn't a good night for quips.
But soon, Spider-Man saw the objective of his quest throughout this strange city in this strange Earth. The tower stood over every other building within the city. He swung and he leapt, and crawled his way to the top, to the dome where he had seen the monster man.
He was hoping that he could pick something up with his spider-sense; it was a vain hope, as all he could feel was a slight buzzing in the back of his head. Whatever was up here had left little trace, and would probably never return.
But then, why was it here in the first place?
The presence of something so horrible, of something that had triggered his spider-sense in a way that Peter had never felt before had horrible implications. What horrors was this world about to face?
Spider-Man immediately regretted not having told Dick or Bette about this. They might not be able to do much, but at least they'd be prepared. Or they could warn some of this world's superheroes.
He would talk to Dick later.
Perhaps there would be a silver lining. Perhaps whatever had allowed that monster to teleport away could be used to teleport him back home. His inner science major however, snapped him back to reality. Just because he saw something disappear, did not mean it could disappear into another alternate Earth, let alone the correct one. Spider-Man sighed. His situation seemed hopeless.
He would have to return to Bette's home, wake everyone up, and tell them what he saw, now.
Before leaping off of the building, Spider-Man stopped in his tracks. He quickly turned behind in time to see a cable silently flying upwards and attaching itself to the needle on the tower. Seconds later, a dark figure came jumping out of the darkness below.
He was tall and strong. In a way, Spider-Man was reminded of Captain America, but that was only in terms of body-type and in apparent strength; in terms of personality, the two men couldn't be further apart. Whereas Captain America – his moments of righteous anger notwithstanding – was a warm and open person, this man seemed to be the opposite. He wore a dark getup: a black cape and cowl, black gloves with sharp scallops on them, and matching black boots. His mask covered most of his face save for his mouth and chin (which reminded Spider-Man of this Canadian guy who's picture he had seen, but without the absurd extensions), and it had two pointy ears on it. The rest of his attire (apart from the black trunks) was gray with a black bat on his chest. He had a dull yellow belt around his waist that had several pouches along it – a sort of enhanced version of the belt Spider-Man had under his costume.
The strange man observed Spider-Man silently.
It was then that it occurred to Spider-Man who this man might be. He hadn't seen a picture of the man yet, but he had read about him in the abandoned newspapers, and a mugger he had punched screamed out his name.
"Are you… Batman?" Spider-Man asked.
"I am" the dark man said, calmly and readily.
Inwardly, Spider-Man sighed with relief. He could tell this Batman here about what he had seen on top of this very tower. From what he had read, this Batman was part of the Justice League, this Earth's version of the Avengers. If something bad was afoot, they would be ready.
"Thank God you're here. I have to tell you…" Spider-Man began to say, but he was quickly cut off.
"Don't tell me anything. I don't want to hear it. I want you out of Gotham now!"
Behind his lenses, Spider-Man blinked. He cleared his throat.
"Listen Mister, calm down…"
"Don't say a word kid. Now is not the time for you to play games. You think you're smart because you took Black Spider's equipment, or that you're good because you're using it to fight crime, but you're not. Go back home before you get yourself seriously hurt, or you get someone else hurt. And I mean it when I say I never want to see you in Gotham again. I will make you regret it" Batman roared, strangely tapping his belt as he did so.
The dark man's tone struck a dark chord within Spider-Man's heart.
"I can't go home! But that's not important! I…" and then, just as he was about to explain everything to this Batman guy, it went off, even before Batman made a move. He didn't know exactly what problem this guy had, but if he wanted a fight, well, he was going to get one. Spider-Man jumped and turned and landed neatly on the tower's dome as a few darts fell on the place he had been standing. He didn't crawl on the dome as he would have usually done; he stood as tall as he could on both feet. Whenever he stood like this on non horizontal surfaces, it disturbed people. As it was, he was trying to tell this dark superhero that he was taking a stand and not backing down.
"What the hell is your problem? Do you just attack people who try to help you? No wonder this place is a dump. You sir, are incompetent!" Spider-Man yelled in anger. Batman was quick, throwing what looked like one of the Green Goblin's razor bats at him. Spider-Man however, was quicker, catching the metallic bat. And then, once again, his spider-sense saved his bacon. He hurled it back at Batman before it could shock him; the dark knight barely dodged it. The man in black was surprised, that was clear to see.
"Mister, let me tell you something about bats. They belong to the order Chiroptera, which is Greek for hand wing. Many people call them flying mice but they're more closely related to shrews and moles. They have a diverse diet. They eat a lot of insects, they suck some blood, and on occasion, they can eat mice, small birds, and frogs. No animal larger than that is afraid of them. NONE WHATSOEVER! Owls kill them, snakes kill them, and housecats kill them. You want to know what else can kill them?"
And then, Spider-Man suddenly lunged at Batman. The teenager shot out his fist, and Batman barely blocked it with his gloved forearm. The scallops cut through Spider-Man's suit, but they didn't draw blood, merely leaving a scratch mark.
Batman winced. The young superhero hit harder than he had expected. Judging from the pain, his arm wasn't broken, but if he blocked more punches like that, it would break. He had to finish this quickly. He turned on the finger taser.
Spider-Man was faster than that. He moved out of the bolt's way, towards Batman's right side. With his right hand, he grabbed the dark knight's wrist and squeezed tightly. As he did this his left hand curled into a fist and was slammed hard against Batman's gut.
"SPIDERS!" Spider-Man yelled into Batman's ear. Then, still holding Batman's wrist with his right hand, he violently lifted the dark knight off of his feet, and slammed his back against the dome wall. "Go check it out on Youtube!"
Before Batman could move, Spider-Man shot out his webs and had him restrained from toe to neck. Batman was webbed against the dome of the tower with only his head exposed. Spider-Man then webbed up his mouth, for no good reason.
"Don't worry, the webs will dissolve, eventually. So be still and listen. That get up of yours might scare the back ally bullies, but to me you're just a joker in a costume. It doesn't matter how good you are at karate, you will not scare me. And the darkness won't help you either. You want to know what does scare me? What I have been trying to tell you until you started being a hardheaded idiot? This morning, I saw a much bigger guy than you in blue and gray standing where I am right now. The feeling I got from him was something I hope you nor anyone else ever has to feel. And then he disappeared in a flash of light. He looked like he was scoping this place out, and might I repeat myself, that's not good. Your world is in for a lot of trouble and I hope that you stop mucking about, and tell your pals at the Justice Friends about it. And mister, I never want to see you in Boston, ever!"
Spider-Man leapt from the tower down towards the street below. He quickly shot out a web towards a nearby building, and he swung away with an agility no normal man could match.
The coolness of the night air calmed Spider-Man down. He hoped this Batman fellow would look past his defeat and at least tell his superhero friends about what he had just said. Spider-Man grunted. He was better off telling Dick and Bette.
Even before he opened his eyes, Doom knew that he was lying in a desert. And the voices he heard around him told him that someone had found him. He didn't recognize the dialect however, so he didn't know where he was.
He opened his eyes, and he saw several soldiers standing over him. One of them bent down, and tried to pry at his armor. Doom's reaction was swift. He grabbed the man by the neck and snapped his vertebrae. The man fell down, lifeless.
The others were too stunned to act at first, allowing Doom time enough to blast two more soldiers and to get up. The soldiers were now prepared. But soldiers weren't the only people there. Doom noticed a few men in civilian garb and who did not have the look of soldiers. One of them was too old and too fat to be a soldier. A soldier aimed and fired. The bullet hit Doom's shoulder, but it did not penetrate his armor. Doom raised his hand and aimed at the soldier. Nothing happened.
This was an unpleasant surprise. The armor must have been damaged during his last altercation with Richards. He stood still as the soldiers shot at him; he was too busy checking the status of his armor to care about them. Their bullets could do nothing to him.
After several seconds of scanning, Doom saw that the armor was indeed damaged. The sensors were shot, the blasters were unreliable and the forcefield generator was compromised. The only part of his armor's technology that was not affected was the part that gave him superhuman strength. It would have to do with savages such as these. He turned, his scan completed, and he saw a soldier with a bazooka. The soldier pulled the trigger, and the shell hit Doom's arm.
That one Doom felt. He snarled in pain and anger. He looked at the soldier; such a pathetic looking thing; Doom felt truly insulted. With his limited flying capability, Doom made his way to the bazooka man. He grabbed the weapon and crushed it with his hand. He then struck the soldier with the open palm of his hand, breaking the soldier's neck with the force of the blow.
More soldiers were coming, and they had tanks.
Doom let out a chuckle.
"Come to me dogs. I will show you what death is like" he said.
His armored hands began to glow in an eerie, eldritch manner. Although Dr. Doom considered his scientific knowledge more important, his training in the mystic arts did have their benefits. He burned down soldier after soldier with mystical blasts. He teleported behind other soldiers and either broke their bodies, or stabbed them with their own bayonets. The soldiers screamed and the tanks fired. Doom quickly raised a mystic shield around him. He invoked demonic beings. Strange things he did not recognize came out of the Earth and attacked the soldiers. He would have to look into that.
And then, it was over. Almost all of the soldiers were dead. Most of the civilians were dead as well, except for the fat man. Doom walked up to him.
"Where am I?" he asked in English "Which country would allow its soldiers to attack Doom?"
The man shrunk against a car and began to breathe heavily. Doom reached out and grabbed the man beneath his arm. He hoisted him up so that they could see each other eye to eye.
"I ordered you to speak! Now speak dog!"
"This is Bialya" the man said.
Doom gave him a hard slap, hard enough to send him to the ground, but not so hard as to kill him.
"Do not play games with me! Where am I!?"
"In Bialya!" the man shrieked out "Queen Bee will hear about this, and she will kill you"
"Your jests are not funny. You are mad to throw out made up names. You were original with Bialya, but Queen Bee is a pathetic choice of a name"
The man let out another shriek.
"I am telling you the truth! This is Bialya! Look at the tanks!"
Doom threw the fat civilian aside and went to the tank. Indeed, it read Bialya. He examined the tank more closely. After that, he saw some credence to the man's words. It did make some sense. He had been thrown into the portal by that accursed Sue Storm. He would certainly be somewhere else. It was curious that the somewhere else would be another Earth. He should have seen it.
Doom turned, only to see the civilian pointing a semi-automatic rifle at him. The man pulled the trigger. It hit the side of Doom's head. His helmet fell. His expression contorted in wroth. Once ago, and it seemed like an eternity, he had been a handsome man. No woman could resist his charms, but after Richards, his perfect face had been scarred, severely scarred; it was no longer perfect. He hid his face behind the mask so that no one would see the imperfection stamped on his visage. And now this animal had seen him without his mask. He roared and charged at the civilian like a tiger. The poor man tried to shoot, but Doom was on him instantly. He threw him again against the car. The man crumpled up like a dirty rag. Doom walked slowly but unstopped towards the prone figure. He reached out to grab the man, but then, he stopped.
Next to the man, there was the car rear view mirror, broken by the violence of Doom's assault. He looked at the reflection within. It was unscarred, perfect, as it had been before Richards' meddling.
For a moment, Doom wondered if he was dreaming, but it was clear that he was not. And then he wondered if the passage from one world to the next had healed his face. Perhaps time had been altered. But that did not make sense in the light of everything else; his armor still had the dents from the fight with the Fantastic Four and Spider-Man. His regeneration was quite selective. And that was suspicious. And then a dark thought entered his mind.
He looked at his arm, the one the bazooka shell had struck. The armor was cracked, and Doom could see blood coming out. He knew he was injured; he could, in a sense, feel it. But he could not feel any pain.
Doom peeled the metal away from his arm. He picked up a fallen knife, and he cut into the flesh of his arm. He looked at it. His countenance grew dark. For three minutes, he stood there with his arm in his hand, his eyes on the opened wound.
It all made sense. It was a mad plan and an insane way to dispose of a hated enemy. Success could in no way be guaranteed. And yet, he wanted to see Richards die in person. But that was how it was supposed to be, wasn't it? He was supposed to believe.
The civilian's clumsiness brought Doom back from his reverie. He had tripped over a dead soldier as he tried to escape, and the soldier's gun had fired. Doom moved quickly to the civilian, and grabbed him by the throat.
"This is a new world for me. The possibilities are endless. I want you to be the first to know that I will take this opportunity to assert myself. I will show this world that I am, and forever will be, Doom, and none of you can tell me otherwise. But I will tell this world myself"
The civilian's life ended quickly, not with a scream, but with a gurgle. Doom let the body drop down to the ground. And then, without touching the canteens filled with water, picking up only his mask, and the remnants of his armor, he walked into the unknown waste.