Peter woke before the sun. Nightmares plagued his night, only amplified by his current situation. He leaned against a window and watched the world go by outside.
It was almost strange, watching a world blissfully unaware of the terror to come. To see people being genuinely happy. It was nice, though Peter knew it wouldn't last.
In less than a year, the Avengers would tear themselves apart. Then Thanos would come, and destroy the very fabric of the life everyone knew. Even after that was fixed, the world would never be the same again.
Unless he could somehow save everyone, by himself. Why was he always alone?
Peter looked out the window to observe life passing by. He saw a young family with their baby walking through the park across from him. The child, looking no older than two, clinged onto their mother's hand as the couple laughed at a joke the man made. Down the road a young couple, no older than Peter, took a Polaroid picture of them together before carrying on down the street.
Everything was normal. And it hurt.
Finally, Peter drew together all his strength and stood up from his spot against the window. He straightened out his clothes and made his way back out the broken window, down the fire escape and out of the alleyway.
Peter needed a job, otherwise his empty stomach would prove to become much more of a problem than dull hunger pains. With his enhancements, the lack of food was already starting to show. He was weaker, his head hurt. It was starting to become a problem, and it only made his need for money more urgent.
After some thought, and inner debate, Peter decided he had nothing to lose by trying to get a job at the bar he had heard about.
Just listen to me, Peter laughed to himself, talking about getting a job at a bar. May would be so disappointed.
May's not here, is she? A voice hissed in his head. He tried to shake the thought from his mind. It wasn't May's fault he was alone. If she didn't know him, she didn't know him, there was nothing she could do about it. And yet Peter couldn't help but feel upset.
Of course, the only person he could blame for his predicament was himself.
What kind of idiot makes a deal with a random voice they hear at night? This idiot, apparently. And now he was reaping the consequences—which involved having to get a semi-illegal job if he wanted to eat tonight. But first, he had to find out where this place was, all he knew was the name, but had no idea in hell where it was.
So, Peter was off to the library—in the words of Albert Einstein, "The only thing that you absolutely have to know is the location of the library." Which was good, because Peter didn't know much more than that.
Of course Peter knew it was named after some school, Sister Marie's? Sister Margret's? Something like that to keep the cops off their trail. When Peter had first heard whispers on the street of this bar, he had told Mr. Stark about it. Who in turn told him to stay the hell away from anything to do with mercenaries. So he did… until now.
As Peter reached the stairs of the library, he realised that while many people were walking by there was almost no one inside.
Shrugging, he went inside anyway.
Sitting at what appeared to be a large wooden, half circle desk, was the librarian. She looked young, in her mid-20s, and was dressed in light-wash denim jeans and a cream coloured cardigan with cherries sewed onto it. She smiled warmly at Peter as he entered, and Peter couldn't help but smile warmly back.
"Welcome, is there anything I can help you with?" She asked, her voice smooth as she typed something into her computer.
"Yeah, uh, where are the computers? Please, ma'am," Peter questioned as his hands fidgeted.
The woman stood up and gestured from Peter to follow her. They walked through a maze of bookshelves until they reached what appeared to be the back corner of the library. On three desks sat 6 different computers. The lady turned back to him.
"Pick a spot, I expect you're doing homework?" Peter nodded along with the lie. "Perfect, let me know if you need any help. The printer is over there if you have to print it. Have fun."
She walked back through the maze of bookshelves to her desk. Peter waited until he could no longer hear the sound of her high heels clicking on the polished, wooden floor before turning to the computers and sitting down at the one situated furthest in the corner.
I should probably check to see what has changed in the world, Peter thought, if I don't exist other things might be different too.
Clicking on chrome, Peter put in the names of his parents—Richard and Mary Parker.
To no surprise, just like back in 2024, the search brought up articles of their plane crash. Only this time the articles made no mention of leaving behind a baby son.
So I really don't exist anymore.
When he found out about it yesterday, he felt upset, annoyed, and even betrayed. But now? Now he felt nothing. Almost numb at the idea that no one in this universe knew of his existence. If he disappeared no one would know to look for him, no one would care.
Of course in the past Peter had felt alone, like no one cared. In those times, May, Ned, Mr. Stark or even MJ would reassure him that he was never alone. No matter how he was feeling, they were there. They were his family.
But now, for the first time, Peter was truly alone with no one by his side.
Trying to shake the thought from his head Peter searched up: 'Stark Industries'. The search showed mainly articles about Iron Man and a few new inventions. He mindlessly scrolled through the articles, his head resting on his hand. Scrolling down, Peter saw the official Stark Industries website. With a small smile, Peter clicked on it.
Something on the page immediately caught his attention. It was an ad about internship opportunities at Stark Industries.
Oh… ok.
After thinking for a moment, Peter clicked on 'read more', and well… read more.
STARK INDUSTRIES INTERNSHIP OPPORTUNITIES
The article described an opportunity for students, ages of 17 and up, to complete a series of tests. Those who completed the tests with the highest 5 scores would get the opportunity to be SI interns, starting on a trial basis.
Was Peter 17? No, he was 16, but he didn't technically exist in this universe, so who would pull him up for ageing himself up a few months?
SI gave Peter a sense of normality. Being able to work in a lab again, especially a SI lab, well it would do more than make Peter happy. It could calm him.
Down the bottom of the page, there were details on how to apply for the tests. You needed to submit your name, age, school and birth certificate. All of which Peter did not have.
But I know how to fake them He and Ned had once made fake IDs to get into an 18+ Star Wars event and no one had even questioned the legitimacy of the IDs once. He knew how to fake them well. And wouldn't it be for a good reason? Interning at SI would mean free lunches, and getting off the streets for a bit. Surely it was a good enough reason, right?
Pulling up a word document, Peter got to work.
This really should be harder, he thought, as he hacked a nearby school system to make it look like he went there, just in case SI checked. It was like the school system had no security, it was almost laughable.
It was almost an hour and a half later when Peter finally finished the documents.
His hands shook as he entered his "details" into the sign up page. And clicked "sign up". As he did so, he realised it was the last day to submit your information for the internship—the test was tomorrow at 12:30 at the Avengers/Stark tower.
Perfect, he just had to make it till then.
Staring at the documents he had created, Peter thought to himself why don't I just get a normal job now?
Despite the distaste Peter had at the idea of working for a mercenary bar, if he tried to get a real job CPS would probably be called. Not because he was too young, but because even after only a day and a half of not eating he was starting to look malnourished.
He couldn't get caught. He had no choice but to go against all his morals.
Clicking the search bar, he typed in: "Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls." The name he had heard many times on the streets by crooks and bad guys alike. Noting down the address onto a sticky note he found on the desk, Peter shoved it into his pocket, before deleting the search history of the computer (just in case).
Thanking the librarian, he pulled his hood over his head and started to make his way towards the address.
It seemed like all Peter's days were consumed with walking from one place to another. For hours on end he walked, getting lost a few times before finally arriving at his destination, Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls. Gathering his courage, he pushed open the door.
The bar itself was silent. Which made sense, it was only 11:30, so the bar was closed. But the door was open so someone had to be here, right?
"Hello?" Peter called out into the emptiness.
Somewhere in the silence, Peter heard the sound of a squeaky door open and a voice call out:
"Wade? I thought you were gonna be gone until Tuesday?"
"Uh, not Wade, sorry," Peter responded.
At that, the owner of the voice came into view. Said person wasn't short, but not tall either. They wore glasses, and had blonde hair that came down to just above his shoulders. To top it off his voice sounded strangely like one of the twins from How to Train Your Dragon.
"A hobbit?" He said, upon seeing Peter, walking around the bar to stand before him.
Suddenly feeling self conscious about his situation, Peter started to fidget before responding:
"No, no, sir. I'm Peter."
"Well, Peter," the man said his name slowly, as if he was unsure of his presence. "I think you took a wrong turn at the playground. So if you just head on out that would be great- "
He started to turn Peter, pushing him in the direction on the exit. Realising this, Peter dug his feet into the ground, stopping the pair as he turned towards the blonde-haired man.
"No, I know where I am. I know this is a bar for mercenaries. I don't care, I'm looking for a job."
That seemed to stop the man from trying to push him out the door. His eyes darted to Peter's, staring into them.
"And pray tell me, why would I give a 5 year old a job at my bar?"
"Because I need the money, and it looks like you need help." Which was true, the whole bar looked a little run down. The bar area itself was messy and the whole place needed to be cleaned. As a final convincer Peter said:
"You don't have to pay me as much as a normal adult either. So win-win."
Adjusting his glasses, the man flippantly asked, "Why do you need a job anyway? Mummy and daddy didn't give you enough pocket money?"
With a bitter laugh Peter responded, "More like mummy and daddy are dead but whatever."
Silence returned to the bar as the man looked quizzingly at Peter. As though he was unsure what to make of him.
"You got a place to stay, kid?"
"I got a place I'm staying."
"Is it safe?"
"It's enough."
"Look, if you're in enough trouble to have no qualms working at a place like this to get money, then maybe you should be talking to CPS-"
Cutting him off Peter bit out, "Call CPS on me and I won't hesitate to call the police on this place."
With a half grin, the man responded, "That's quite the hustle skills you got yourself there kid. Fine. You want a job at this shit-show? You got one. First things first, no one goes by their real name here. Safety and all that shit, I go by Weasel. You gotta pick a name too kid."
Thinking for a moment, he settled on, "Spider."
"Well then, Spider," Weasel said with a breathy laugh, "First shift's tonight, get here at 9. We will talk about details then. Now get outta here."
Peter thanked the man profusely before turning on his heels to walk out, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Flinching away from the touch, Weasel drew his hands away and held them in the air. Only then did Peter notice the $10 in his hand.
"Don't freak, you look half dead. Thought you might need something for lunch."
Peter just smiled in return, taking the money from the older man.
"Don't get too happy, that's out of your pay-check from tonight. I just don't want my new employee dying of starvation before his first shift. Go go now."
He made a shooing motion with his hands and Peter took his leave. Straightening out his hoodie, Peter took off back into the city—armed with a new job, internship hopes, and best of all… money for lunch.
Things, while still tough, were starting to look up. Funnily enough, that's what Peter should have done before he walked right into someone outside of a near-by coffee shop.