Chapter three: Tomorrow

Peter learned a long time ago that it isn't the suit that makes the hero, it's the man underneath.

He's gotten good at telling Aunt May that one lately, unable to explain the real reason why it's so hard for him to put on the other, higher-tech suit. The suit that took him to titan.

The one that he died in.

Why it feels like he's suffocating everytime the mask slides into place.

It's an amazing suit, really, it has all the bells and whistles- in New York. The perfect suit that Tony made specifically for him is collecting dust in his attic in New York because he can't get over himself.

Peter sighs, getting to his feet because wallowing about his regrets isn't going to get him home any faster.

Plus, now that his adrenaline is starting to fade he's really beginning to notice the funky smells of the sewers. Okay, think, Peter… bleh.

It doesn't take him very long to find a different manhole to exit out of, popping it up out of the ground with a swift kick and crawling out onto the shadowed street. Peter shoots a web before the heavy metal disk can clatter back down onto the concrete, pulling it towards himself and catching it in his grip like a shield.

"Okay… that was awesome…" He totally just felt like Cap right there. Cooling his fanboying as he glances around, Peter slides the cover back into its place, quiet as a mouse. The last thing he wants to do is make a big fuss and possibly send that Homelander guy flying back in his direction..

Peter is silent as he ducks into a nearby alley, cautious of using his webs for the same reasoning. He wipes at his face tiredly, rubbing at the dried blood flaking under his nose with the crook of his arm.

Don't worry Aunt May, everyone, I will make it back home.

Peter tilts his head back, squinting, but there are no stars visible from here. I have to.

As soon as the sky starts to brighten the next morning Peter crawls out from under the Brooklyn Bridge, hopping from each rung like monkey bars and parkouring his way back to the ground, the sounds of birds chirping loosening the tension in his shoulders a bit as he lands on a dirt hill.

He was extra careful not to leave a web trail to where he was sleeping for the night, though he can't really say how effective the plan was because he hardly slept a wink.

Today was going to be different though. He might not have Karen anymore but he has some leads to search up on for now, like The Homelander, for example. That guy is all kinds of messed up..

Of course, Peter objectively realizes that there's always going to be 'bad' people out there. That is just the unfortunate truth of the multiverse, everyone is looking out for themselves. That doesn't make people inherently bad, living how they've always lived, and Peter certainly isn't in a place right now to judge how somebody makes it through the day…

But Homelander?

Peter can still see the seething rage now, feel the heat pressing so close, his skin nearly jumping off his bones to avoid it.

Most importantly though, he remembers the cold, blatant disregard of his life. Wonders what would have happened if he had been just a couple seconds slower...

It's a very startling contrast to the smiling icon he's seen plastered all across New New York.

Peter takes a slow, calming breath as he walks on the sidewalk, purposely avoiding anyone's curious second glances and ducking his head further. Man, this sucks. Not only does he have to somehow lure the portal baddy out to send him back home, that is, if the guy even stuck around town, but- well, actually, that's his main concern really-!

Peter springs back as he shoulder checks into some guy, grabbing him by the arms to steady him from falling over onto the sidewalk.

"Oh, sorry, man," Peter, noticing the disbelieving look he's receiving from the tall, very muscly dude, immediately releases his hold, laughing nervously as he takes a step back, "Um, sorry.. about bumping into you, I wasn't paying attention."

"Damn, you've got a good grip there, son," The man shakes his arms out slightly, taking a step back and appraising Peter from head to toe again with a disbelieving eye.

"Right, sorry," Peter flushes, waving his hands out a bit with concern. "Are you okay? I didn't grab you too hard did I?"

"No, you didn't grab me too hard, I'd sure like to see you try," The man scoffs a genuine sounding laugh at that, giving Peter's ragged spandex another glance over before landing on his healing face with raised eyebrows, searching for something in his eyes, "Are you okay, kid? You look like you've seen some shit."

"Uh, me? Oh, I'm fine! Psh, yeah, great, um, sorry again, but I really need to get going," Peter skitters around the man, abruptly jogging away and shouting over his shoulder. "Sorry again!"

"Son! Wait-"

Peter ducks behind a fence of someone's lawn, jogging a few blocks away just to be safe before continuing walking towards the inner city with a sigh. The only one who's going to get you out of this is you, Peter. Well, and the portal baddy, obviously.

It takes a couple hours of confused stumbling around for Peter to find a library. And when he finds a computer, what he finds about Homelander is surprising. There's hardly anything concerning about the guy, other than the forum trolls but even Tony has those and he literally saved the multiverse..

No, as far as the public is concerned here, Homelander is a model citizen, one of their finest actually. A Vought hero, not only on the cameras but off them too, with hundreds of millions of fans to boot.

Heck, if Peter didn't know any better he could have been an Avenger. Vought Industries has a team of 'supes' themselves after all, called The Seven, and hundreds more of these supes at their disposal, spread across the globe apparently. This could mean that the portal baddy may be working with Vought, and subsequently, Homelander…

Peter leans back in the plastic chair unsurely, wiping at his mouth nervously before tapping his fingers on the desktop as he shuts his eyes in thought.

He's not going to freak out. Nah. Nope. Peter is a cool cucumber, remember? Just.. think Peter… think, think…

"Hey, kid." !

Peter jumps up, his chair skidding back as he flips around. The guy from the sidewalk earlier widens his eyes, takes a step back and quickly raises his hands in peace, "Woah, woah, woah, we're good, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Peter, right?"

Peter swallows, barely able to slide back as he immediately bumps into the table, the hum of the running computer a dull buzz on his nerves. Oh great, just another guy here who knows my real name. Welcome to the freakin' club.

He glances around the 'hidden' corner of the library hastily, chosen specifically for the purpose of not being noticed before landing back on the frozen man watching his every move, suspicious.

It seems like there's only one reason why people search him out these days, and Peter can't risk the people inside the library so he needs to play this cool. If this was going to get physical he'd have to drag this guy away somehow, he could drag the bookshelf down on him and head for the nearest window…

As a shaky plan begins to form in his mind, Peter asks with much reluctance, "What do you want?"

The man's gaze flickers down briefly before landing on Peter's face with almost concern as his eyebrows raise and he lowers his hands a bit, "I just want to talk. I know this is fucking strange, yeah, but just hear me out for a second, alright?" At Peter's unmoving silence the man hastens to continue, imploringly, "I figured there was something up with you kid, and I was right. You've got yourself mixed up in some real serious shit, haven't you son?"

Peter silences the part of him that wants to quip, don't I always?, instead choosing to lower his knees gently in preparation as his gaze skitters towards a nearby shelf filled to the brim with dusty smelling books. "Not to be rude or anything, but again, uh, what do you want man?"

The man pauses, pursing his lips momentarily as he seems to attempt to search for something in his gaze again, "Saw you fighting The Homelander, Peter. I mean, the actual fucking Homelander. You crazy.. or somethin', kid? Didn't your mom ever tell you to not go picking any fights you can't finish? Do you have any idea the kind if shit storm you just invited into your life-? Your family's life?"

Oh, you don't even know the half of it pal. Peter swallows, eyes flickering for an exit strategy as his breathing starts to pick up in anticipation at the building tension, "L-listen, man, I already told Homelander that I was sorry. I won't web up the city anymore, okay, promise, really."

"Wait! Just- wait," Peter does, stiffly. Something about the man's tone makes him pause, his voice constricting with thick, seemingly genuine emotion. Peter turns back to face him, wrist lowering, surprised by the carefully held together expression being aimed his way. "That's not why- I couldn't give a shit about that I- I just… You were in the sewers for a while there kid… with The Homelander."

"Yeeah," Peter fidgets, pursing his lips as he recalls his panic attack with lingering shame. Because the truth of the matter is, if Homelander wanted to he could have just killed him. "He said he let me off the hook about that, really, I don't know what he's been telling you-"

"Homelander isn't telling me shit." The man almost snaps at him but seems to hold himself back, bristling with insult. His wide shoulders rise with settling resolve as he stares down Peter with a growing anger and sadness that sends his spidey senses fritzing warningly, "I don't work for that fucking psycho. But, he is why I'm here, Peter. Let me help you, kid. Because I'm scared, I'm real fucking scared for you and I promise you, that if you just trust me? I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Homelander's never going to put another fucking hand on you or your family, ever again, you hear me?"

"Uh, I guess…?" Peter scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, still not entirely sure what this guy is trying to say considering he's clearly, you know, human, and even Peter couldn't hold his own against Homelander. And the last thing Peter needs is to involve a well-intentioned citizen into his world of problems, "Okay, uh, look, I appreciate the concern sir, really I do, but I'm fine! Really, so... I'm just gonna…"

!

"Welp." Click-!

Peter springs back up onto the table on instinct, head snapping to the side as his heart ricochets off his chest.

Sauntering around the corner of the book shelf, a familiar looking man in some sort of gas mask raises his hand to reveal the punctured, metal gas canister in his grasp. "About that, Peter… Change of plans."

Shooooooooo.

Bursting, powerful, thick yellow plumes of gas spurt from the can, fanning outwards like ripples of a bomb shockwave. Unable to escape the eruption of smoke, it hits Peter head on, momentarily shrouding his world in a cloud of swirling yellow.

"Shit! Butcher!"

Peter coughs, his nerve endings sparking as a sudden, achy, clouded haze shrouds his mind, thick columns of smoke inhaling through his nose against his will without his mask to filter out the toxins.

Peter's eyes sting as he coughs again weakly, vision blotting dangerously. Wavering, his knees suddenly buckle and he goes falling forwards off the table. The stranger from the sidewalk must have dived forward to catch him, as big arms secure around his stomach-!

Just as his head cracks against the pavement. Peter groans out a strange wheeze, murky, husking gas drying his mouth and insides like sandpaper. His cloudy yellow vision is obscured as he's suddenly cradled, a fan of breath panting on the top of his head as a hand cards through his hair.

"Are- Butcher! Are you- crazy! I had it handled-! Shit, are you alright kid?"

Butcher must scoff, voice a warbled echo under the gas mask as something kicks Peter's limp foot, "Handled my fucking arse, the little shit was about to cum and go. Now, let's bounce before Homelander shows up in a tizzy, yeah?"

"I fucking told you man-"

Yellow smoke begins to shapeshift in webbing patterns, puckering almost. Enthralled and suddenly petrified, Peter mutely rolls his head to see better as black dots bounce across the room. His cheek smushes against the man's bicep as the lights in the building flicker and warp like melting candle wax.

!

"There you are."

Eyes stretching impossibly wide, Peter's skin crawls backwards as his vision edges black with panic. Smoke suddenly brushes aside as a red, polished boot kicks through the black nothingness a foot away from his paralyzed form. Another one follows a second later, coming to stand still before tapping impatiently.

Slowly Peter drags his eyes up the familiar form shrouded in clouds of yellow, feeling his heart begin to leap hurdles and his skin simmer from phantom heat.

"Naw," Homelander grins mockingly down at him, his mouth seeming to expand endlessly, teeth sharp razor blades made for shredding as red hues his eyes in promise. "-you fucking flea."

!

"Wait, wait, wait-wait," Peter pleads, panicking and unable to remove the iron bars around him. Peter's breath comes in gasps as his gaze pinpricks, flinching as something sharp jabs his neck and it all fades to a familiar, terrifying black.

"Wakey, wakey Peter."

Alert, he sits up a bit more from his falling lean against a concrete wall, eyeing the various emotions being reflected by the group in front of him as his head pounds.

Peter smiles weakly, not even bothering to get to his feet, he probably wouldn't be able to stand yet anyway, "Heeey," Peter rasps with a wince, palms spreading flat with a twitch on the cement floor, "Butcher… how's it hanging..? Hem, cool name by the way, it definitely doesn't make me nervous or anything, so…"

Butcher stares him down for a minute before closing his eyes with a deep sigh, shoulders slumping a bit as he rubs at the spot between his brows, "Billy. The names Billy, kid, alright, and you can settle yourself down. I ain't going to take a swing at you."

The 'unless you make me' goes left unsaid and Peter really isn't looking to start a fight again by being the one to point that out. It's still kind of hard to breathe..

"Cool, cool… psh, yeah, totally wasn't on my mind or anything," Peter rubs his fraying gloves together, glancing towards the ripping of the fabric before thinning his lips and looking up at them head on, eyes flickering between their gazes anxiously. The guy from the computer store last night, Hughie, and the man on the sidewalk apparently work with Butcher, observing him from just behind the man with pinched expressions. "So… um, is.. Uh, Homelander here?"

"Fuck no." Billy tsks, crouching down to his haunches to meet his eyes properly with a dead stare as his starts to grin a bit wickedly, "I think there's been a bit of a misconception, Peter, we ain't with fuckin' Homelander. Oh contraire, we-" He pats his chest, then gestures to the other silent men exchanging glances, "Are the people who are gonna liberate the world from that cunts miserable ass and you-"

"Spider-Man, are gonna help us."

"What?" The man from the sidewalk suddenly bursts, whirling on Billy who immediately stands and narrows his eyes, holding his ground. As if struck with a realization the man's eyes widen, taking a step back from Billy before a chilly anger settles over him. His lip trembling as he seethes, jabbing the man roughly in the chest enough to jerk him back and probably bruise, "He- Fuck. No. That kid is not going anywhere fucking near all your crazy fucking bullshit, I should've- oh, I should've known you'd go and pull this shit!"

"Oh don't bullshit me MM, you fuckin' knew very well what the plan was."

"Fuck you!"

"We can't- No. No!" Hughie shakes his head rapidly, sending Peter furtive, incredulously glances as he wipes at the bottom of his face, tossing his hand out towards the wall, "Butcher. Just- no. The- get the kid away from Homelander, that was the plan, not- use him against that fucking asshole! You- you don't seriously want to involve a child-?"

"What fuckin' child?" Billy says stonily, staring Hughie down, "All I see is another fuckin' supe doin' what he pleases, fuck all for the people it affects along the way. What.. am I supposed to.. feel bad, for the little, stupid cunt becau-"

"I'll do it."

Peter breathes carefully through healing lungs, legs shaking slightly under himself as he uses the wall to support himself. Billy slowly turns towards him, glaring but doesn't make a move as Peter meets his gaze firmly, "I'll help you. I don't know exactly what is going on with that Homelander guy, but what I do know…"

Peter can see the sudden beams lighting up his eyes vicious ruby now, the man's voice just as coarse and threating, "Because I'm the fucking Homelander, Peter. I can do whatever the fuck I want."

Peter frowns deeply, swallowing, "With great power comes great responsibility, and I- I don't think Homelander quite gets that…"

"...Yeah." Slowly Billy's shoulders start to unwind, an emotional cacophony warring violently across his face as he starts to nod slowly in acknowledgment, the other men staring in stark, disbelieving silence. "So… What do you say, Pete?"

Peter straightens his posture as he makes sure to make eye contact with each of them individually in assurance, an encompassing, familiar resolve sliding across his shoulders as he lets all his guards down, the worst and best of him on display as he quietly says, "I've fought far worse battles than Homelander."