lepoffaith

by Lazydaily

marvel peter gotham long ass chapters

1. Chapter 1

Peter thinks he might have died. But he isn't sure.

He remembers looking for Tony, as he fell through endless sky. He reached out with his web-shooter for anything to hold onto, but all he could see was blue and white looking down at him. Like he's small. Like he's insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. Nothing to grab, nothing for safety. And he looked for Tony without thinking about it, shouted for him, because he could hear Tony in his comms. He could hear how the man's voice shook, heard when he spotted Peter, but Peter didn't see him.

"I see you, kid, just hold on! I'm coming, I'm almost there!"

But Peter couldn't find anything to hold onto.

Strong hands choked Peter's throat, wrapped so tightly that his vision started to swim. He shook Peter around in his fury, screamed in his face. Peter couldn't hear what he was saying, not with the wind howling in his ears, the sea growing closer and closer. Peter could smell the water, the salt in the air, and he knew. He knew that Tony might not make it. Not this time.

(And he wondered, for the smallest second, if this is what his parents saw when they died in that plane crash.

Endless blue sky.

Small and insignificant.

He wondered if the wind was too loud, if they held onto each other.)

That's when Peter felt wrong. Every nerve pinched in his legs, spreading up his body like a wave of cold water washing over him. He unsuccessfully bit down an agonized cry and opened his eyes, stinging tears blurring his vision. Ashes float in the wind, flying away from him in a dance of sparks. It consumes his view, a thick black snow that sits in his hair and on his skin.

Peter barely managed to make the man let go of his throat, desperately gasping for air. His arms felt weak, too weak, and he could hear a shout of horror. Tony is scared, more than Peter is, and it doesn't make sense. Because how bad is it, that Peter feels the pain, but someone else is more scared than he is?

"Tony- I-I don't feel so- I don't feel good." He choked out, his throat burning with the effort, the pressure of hands still wrapped on his skin.

The man grabbing at Peter disappeared in a cloud of black ash, serpent yellow eyes fixed on his, and the ghost of his words echoing in Peter's sight. Peter was left with just the sky, just the sun and the clouds. And Tony. He could see Tony, finally, and Peter felt relief. His hand reaching out towards Peter, a flash of light as the nanotech of his bracelet wrapped around Peter's wrist.

But when Peter reached for him, his hand was crumbling away into nothing but dust. The last he sees of his foster father is the man screaming and his hand grabbing onto the ash of Peter's. The pain is unbearable, his nerves alight like fire over his face.

And then he stopped falling, his back hitting concrete with a sickening crunch.

new, different, same?

The first sensation he had when he came to was the high pitched ringing in his ears. The second was the pain and nausea.

Peter groaned as he came to (- how long was he…?) and he rolled onto his side, sputtering for air with shaking limbs. His hand slips on crumbling rock, and he catches himself barely in time not to hit the ground again.

The concrete underneath him has splintered outwards from a crater. Which Peter distantly thinks "Oops," for, because that will have to be fixed. Peter crawls his way out of the crater that he doesn't mourn making, because he's focused on a metallic taste in his mouth that he can't get rid of no matter how many times he swallows.

His back burns under that familiar (sometimes, awfully painful) itch of healing. Like fireworks along his back, he can feel the nerves repairing themselves, sewing back together. It's an unpleasant feeling, one that makes his head spin, but it always is that way. He's used to it, unfortunately, but he still has to hold back the bile that threatens to come up.

The earth is spinning underneath him, a double vision split that he can't get a hold on. Peter closes his eyes as he stays on all fours, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. The stinging from his back grows more aggressive as he attempts to gain his bearings.

Angry hands squeezing the air out of him-

Peter coughs, rubbing his own hand on the skin of his throat as if he could clear away the feeling of those fingerprints. The ghosts of them press down on his throat like they're still there. That man had been so furious at him, but Peter didn't even know why. He hadn't done anything crazy, he didn't even recognize the guy.

It had happened way too fast to make sense.

The man that attacked him just now had approached him on the street, and Peter could tell he was bad news right away. His spider-senses went off like crazy, howling to back away- to run. Get away get away get away, it said, but Peter couldn't cause a scene with so many people nearby.

"Just talk to me for a second," He had said, his eye twitching when Peter took a step back. He just kept trying to get Peter to talk to him, no matter what Peter did to get away. Excuses that he has to get to school fell out of his mouth, he tried getting behind the bus stop, he tried weaving through the crowd. Nothing deterred him, the man had kept his eyes set on Peter, kept calling out, "Come here! I need to talk to you!"

It was when Peter alerted Tony that something was wrong when the guy got so mad at him, that he snapped. He yanked Peter's arm backwards with more force than Peter expected of him, and then they were-.

Ashes, falling, empty sky-

"Tony-!"

Peter sits up too fast and his stomach protests fiercely. He falls towards his right, thumping into a brick wall. Tony was right there, he was trying to help. Why didn't Peter use his web shooters to bring him closer? It was just a little pain, he should have sucked it up and pushed through it! He holds onto his head, trying to clear away the ringing- no, static- wait, static?

His fingers reach towards his ear, pulling back a clump of metal. He turns his earpiece over to try and see it better, but the double vision makes it near impossible. All he can tell is that it doesn't look broken, but it's sparking at the bottom. Not good.

This comm was built by Tony to be near indestructible, looking like nothing but an earbud. It connected to his phone, but it was a comm, so Tony and Peter could talk at any time. And now it's nothing but scrap at the moment. He stuffs the earpiece into his pocket- his normal jeans pocket, because everything went to shit at the worst possible time. He can't even get to school without something going wrong.

Oh, shit, Ned is going to freak. They share locations with each other on their phones, no doubt it alerted Ned the second Peter was attacked, just like it does for Tony. If this turns out to be just a weird thing that happened (please) and not a life-alerting event, Ned is going to give him so much shit for how Peter's luck is so bad he should try to contact Guinness World Records.

That villain- fury, Peter can't breathe- Peter needs to focus. He could still be around somewhere, maybe even waiting to strike Peter. He's an older man with a wiry frame, but deceptively strong grip. It had shaken him to his core to be yanked back so easily by someone, especially someone that looked like an old twig.

Peter tries to commit his face to memory, so that when he sees him again, he knows. His nose was sort of wide and flat against his face, his cheekbones jutted out at a sharp angle, and wispy white hair that looked like he'd been electrocuted. Serpent yellow eyes, filled with rage-

Calm down, Peter.

He was making spacial jumps, pulling Peter farther and farther from the Manhattan street when Peter refused to go with him. Teleportation isn't something Peter has trained against, so it took too long to gain his bearings during the struggle. It was all he could do to kick and fight to get out of the grip.

It hadn't felt like magic, he thinks. He's met a few magic users and they briefly talked about stuff like that with him, showed off what they could do. No, this guy was something else. He had tech on his arm, that must have been what was causing the jumps.

That man was trying to get Peter away from Stark Tower- which is insane, considering that Peter was leaving the area already. He was headed to school, there was no doubt that Peter would have made it further away, and Tony wouldn't have even gotten close. Had this guy just been impatient, or was he stupid, too? Peter struggles to keep track with what happened…

They kept getting higher and higher up, Peter managing to slip out of his grasp a few times, but getting caught again. They had crashed into a building at one point, but then appeared higher up. At one point, it got too high for Peter to just jump down once he was let go, and they ended up above the ocean instead of the city ground.

But he knew- he knew that Tony was coming to save him. So Peter grappled with the man to let him go as they started to fall, straight towards the sea. That's when he wildly grappled to grab at his throat, and the ash started.

Ash… Peter wipes at his mouth and cheek, pulling back to see it. There was nothing there, but he swore he had- he had turned to ash. Tony had grabbed dust instead of his hand. And then…

Peter looks at the crater he had made. It was smoking around the edges, and there Peter could smell the fire. He runs a hand along his back and feels nothing out of the ordinary; no rips, cuts, or popped seams. But he can feel the bruising of falling from an extraordinary height.

Just… Peter shouldn't worry about that right now. He's moving fine, not even that injured overall. Instead, he should focus on contacting Tony. He reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, only to find nothing on him. Cursing, Peter recalls dropping it on a roof during the struggle.

"Just great." Peter mutters to himself, his throat screaming in protest. "Perfect."

When the world stops spinning, Peter gets onto his feet. His suit is in his backpack, which had, thankfully, not come off in the struggle. He needs to find a way to contact Tony, and fast. Maybe someone will let him borrow their phone? He has emergency cash on him, maybe a phone booth will be around somewhere that he can use.

Peter takes the time to get on his feet to observe his surroundings. It's a dingy back alley somewhere, the smells hitting him harder than usual. There's a chain-link fence with barbed wire at the top on his left, and past two dumpsters to his right is the open way out of the alley and towards a street. There's not a lot of people, but there are a few walking around.

He chances a glance towards the sky, and his stomach sinks. Why does it look like it's about to rain?

It had just been sunny moments ago, that much he's sure of. How far did he travel, that he's now surrounded by dark clouds? The smell of smog coats the air, and, to Peter's distress, gunpowder. It's all around him, and it might account for the bitter taste in Peter's mouth. Where the hell in New York is he? He doesn't recognize any of the buildings he can see.

Phone. He needs a phone.

He stumbles out into the street, a man dodging him and cursing under his breath before going along his way. He looks around for a sign of anything familiar, but even the architecture is different. The buildings around him are more… Gothic? Is that the term? He doesn't know much about architecture. But each building here is made of dark stone, pointed arches and asymmetrical windows.

It wasn't the architecture that startled Peter the most, but how it's lived in. There's broken glass underneath a shop window, a section of the display cleared out but the rest of it left untouched. Some of the neon signs in the stores flickered every second, some only half lit. Peter doesn't recognize any of the store names: Slim's Service Station, Donahue's Department Store…

Peter can smell guns everywhere he looks. A father and his daughter passing by have three on them, and Peter can only see one on his hip. There is an older man waiting at a bus stop, leaning on the pole and smoking a cigarette. He has a knife strapped to his thigh, but he's dressed in a business suit and reading the paper like it's a normal Tuesday morning. There's an uncomfortable metallic smell that's not gunpowder, but blood. It's nearby, somewhere, but not an amount that is…

Concerning?

It's all concerning. He means "they aren't dead" concerning. He doesn't hear screams or groans of pain, so he's assuming it's old blood.

Worst of all, when Peter looks up at the street sign above him, he doesn't see a glorious number system like he's used to. There's instead just a name: Graham Street.

Wait, he's not in Chicago, is he?

"Oh, this is bad." Peter runs a hand over his mouth. He can't be that far from home, right? All of those other teleportation jumps had been short, just a couple blocks.

Phone booth, now. Peter can figure out where he is if he can contact Tony. He spots one next to the bus-stop, and he skirts around the man with the knife to get to it. He crams the coins from his pocket into the slot, annoyed that his hands are shaking as he attempts to dial the number.

He presses the phone against his ear and waits, hoping Tony's not too busy freaking out to pick up the call. But FRIDAY would take his call anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem.

The phone rings once, twice… four times. Five times. It's on the sixth ring that Peter is met with a robotic voice. "The number that you have dialed is not in service. Please re-enter the number and try again."

Not in service? Tony's plan wouldn't get canceled. He thought he typed it right, too. Peter tries again, an unsettled feeling tickling the back of his neck.

"The number that you have dialed is not in service. Please re-enter the number and try again."

"But it's the right number!" Peter tells the voice, growing frustrated. He hangs the phone up and chews at his bottom lip in thought.

This doesn't make any sense. No matter how far away Peter is, the phone wouldn't just not call Tony's. It's not like this is Tony's business number, it's his personal cell. Even with the amount of times that Peter will call to annoy Tony, the man still picks up his personal cell, because anyone who has access to the number is important enough to pick up the call for.

Peter picks up the phone again, pulling out the rest of his coins. He has enough to try other phones. First, he calls Pepper, begging to hear her voice on the other side of the line. She would pick up, probably annoyed at first thinking it's a scam call, but when she heard Peter, her voice would soften and she'd ask where the hell he is-

"The number that you have dialed is not in service. Please re-enter the number and try again."

He tries Natasha next. She's probably the most level-headed about Peter disappearing in the air like that, if she's up. Usually she's sleeping at this time of day, because she gets a lot of her work done at night. When she picks up, she'd maybe assume Peter was the villain that he was fighting, or another SHIELD agent, but she too, would wonder where he'd gone.

"The number that you have dialed is not in service. Please re-enter the number and try again."

It's with a heavy heart that Peter tries one more time, this call to Rhodey. The man is Tony's best friend, and he's probably with Tony right now, trying to keep him calm. If anyone would pick up the phone, it'd be him. And boy, would Peter be glad to hear his calm tone right now. Rhodey would know what to do.

"The number that you have dialed is not in service. Please re-enter the number and try again."

Okay, so, maybe all of the phones on Tony's plan are off right now. It's not like a mega-corporation of a billionaire couldn't miss a payment or two. (Who is he kidding?) Peter takes a shuttery breath and ignores the tears in his eyes, because he is not gonna be a baby about this, and he dials one last number: Happy.

Happy takes Peter everywhere, and he always picks up Peter's calls. He pretends to be annoyed when Peter is there, but Peter always feels safe when Happy is around. It's just how they are, really. Happy was visiting his friend that morning, that's why Peter was walking to school. Peter feels bad to get him involved in superhero stuff so early in the morning- especially because Peter doesn't even know where he is- but it has to be done. Besides, Happy wouldn't really mind. He told Peter to call if anything ever happens.

The phone rings once, twice, and Peter holds his breath. On the third ring, he hears a click and his heart soars-

"Fuck off, why don't you!? It's too early for this shit! Fuckin' spam bots, and from Gotham of all places? Take me off the fucking call list, asshole, I don't want your shitty-"

Peter hangs up the phone fast. That was not Happy, not even close to it. His heart sinks in his stomach, and he quickly wipes at his eyes with his jacket sleeve, furious that he's crying. He's not a damn kid, he can't get emotional the second something happens!

Peter stares at the phone, his spider-sense chattering underneath his regular anxiety. Something is wrong. Very, very wrong. wrong, you hear? his spider-sense agrees with him, don't like. Peter bites his bottom lip, trying to calm the raging storm that's brewing.

It's gonna be alright. He just- He has to remember what Aunt May taught him. If you get lost, stay in one spot. She'll come… Find him.

(She didn't find him that time.)

Peter swipes away the memory, it's too painful and it won't help him right now. It isn't even the same situation. He just has to ignore that Tony's heart isn't what it should be, and that at any moment the stress could make him collapse, and it'd be Peter's fault all over again-

He slaps his forehead with a SMACK that echoes in the street. The man at the bus stop grunts behind him, and Peter turns to see the man barely looking up from his morning paper. He shakes his head at Peter, and his voice is a low rumble like a thunder storm with an accent Peter is sure he's never heard before: a mix of a transatlantic accent with New Jersey.

"You don't look like you're from here."

Peter stares at him for a moment, and then says, "That-That depends on where 'here' is."

The man raises a brow at his paper, then finally looks up at Peter. He drinks in the words a little too long for Peter's liking- he's entirely aware of how it sounded. The man replies in an almost careful tone, "You're in the University district."

"Of- Of where?"

Again, the man is skeptical of Peter. He looks Peter up and down, his eyes particularly scanning Peter's throat before looking back up at him. "Gotham, kid. You're in Gotham."

"Gotham…?" Peter's brow furrows as he tries to think. He's never heard of a major city called Gotham, he thinks. "I've never…"

"Never been here? I can tell." The man shakes his paper to turn to the next page. Gotham Gazette stares at Peter, but the headline catches his attention more:

TWO-FACE AT LARGE, STAY CLEAR

"Two-Face?" Peter repeats aloud. "Who's that?"

"Who-" That causes the man to startle, and he gawks at Peter. His cigarette almost drops out from between his teeth. "Where you from? New York? How'd you get here and not know about him?"

Peter winces, looking around the street once more. An unfamiliar street, city, and villain. And Peter thinks he'd remember the face of that villain. He's wearing a crisp black-and-white business suit, the left half of his face mottled with what Peter thinks are burns caused from acid.

And there's the fact that none of the phones work, and the man's accent…

Peter didn't…

He didn't time travel, did he?

No, no that wouldn't make sense. Peter can see the date on the man's newspaper as well. It's the exact same as when Peter left, and he hardly doubts a city would just appear here in less than a day. So maybe Peter just doesn't know this city? And there's a chance that their phones are just wonky?

He takes another deep breath. Everything is gonna be fine, he just needs to calm down and think. What would Tony do?

Wait, scratch that. That's only for the lab. He's not allowed to use that as reference outside of engineering stuff, that's one of the rules the others (and Tony) gave him. He rephrases the question: What would Rhodey do? Or Natasha?

The man is still staring at Peter as if he were an alien. "Kid? Where are you from? You know- You… You look like you got the brunt of it. Are you-"

"Where's the nearest library?" Peter blurts out, and the man pauses. He then points behind Peter with a frown.

"Just 'round the corner, but, kid-"

"Thank you!" Peter cuts him off, turning on his heel and heading in that direction at a jog.

Library- a library, that will have a computer, that Peter can look up everything he needs to know. That will help it all make sense. If the phones aren't working, he just has to look it up! Peter rubs at his temple, shutting his eyes and choosing to take a deep breath.

Every noise he passes on the street is making it a little hard to think. He's used to the noise, no doubt about that. Queens isn't a quiet place. But this noise- the noise of this city, was just… off. It isn't different to the sounds of a busy city. But it doesn't feel the same, it doesn't sound the same. It's just off enough that Peter finds it difficult to focus.

Why? Why is it wrong?

Not time travel, and it certainly couldn't be dimensional travel. Peter hadn't been close to a particle accelerator when that man attacked him. What if he got transported to a city like Atlantis?

Oh, shit, he's not in a version of Atlantis, is he? That would suck so bad. And make sense that the phone couldn't call the surface. Shoot, shoot shoot this is bad!

Peter trips going up the steps of the huge library. The man had mentioned this is a university district, so does that mean Peter is nearby a school? He peers up at the dark lettering above the entrance that looms overhead. Gotham City Public Library.

Now, in Queens, the library is never really empty, even on slow days. There's a huge amount of foot traffic outside, and the library hosts events every other day. There's writer's groups, kids stories time, service dog events, the like. It all makes it impossible to not have at least a group of folks coming and going between events. Which means that when Peter enters Gotham Public Library, he finds himself only able to describe it as "sad."

There's no one here.

It's clean, unlike the other buildings Peter passed by. But that has to be due to no one using it. The lights are dim in the reception hall, only on towards the front and most of them off towards the back. There's light coming from an office in the back, but the shades are drawn in the window, so Peter can't see what's inside. He can only hear a faint murmured heartbeat, and a woman's voice… Giving directions?

"No no no, listen, you're gonna need to go right!"

Well. It isn't the weirdest day job he's heard of.

He shrugs it off, instead heading to the right towards the computers in view. The lights might be weird, but Peter is sure the door said the library is open, so he's doing what he wants. Which he would do anyway, even if they're closed. He has to figure out where the hell he is.

The computer turns on with the wiggle of a mouse, and he pauses when he sees the log-in screen. There's no 'guest' option.

He double checks that the only person- the woman, who's annoyance is seeping through even over here- is still unaware that he's here. Peter digs into his pocket, praying that this device had not met the same fate that his phone did.

The tiny mechanical spider moves as soon as Peter pulls it out. Little Legs stretches out on his palm, curling into his warmth and undoing his tiny spindle legs. Peter sets him next to the computer, and Little Legs creeps up the side. It "bites" into the computer by crawling into the USB. And to Peter's surprise, the computer session opens in a record amount of time.

What usually takes five seconds took one. The login changes to the home screen, and Little Legs stays put.

"Thanks, Little Legs." Peter mutters to the spider-bot. Tony had made Little Legs with him to help Peter get used to making AI. Little Legs is their first project together, and it settles Peter to have something of Tony here-

Ah. Speaking of.

Peter stares at his wrist as he goes to grab the mouse. Dangling from his wrist is the nanotech bracelet of Tony's design.

Blue sky, Falling, Tony, Ash-

Peter shakes his head, grabbing his wrist and touching the bracelet in his fingers. This one has Peter's initial on the side: "P". Tony had sent it to him when Peter was falling, he was going to catch Peter using the Iron Man tech.

He has to contact Tony somehow. He has to let him know he's okay, and to find him in this… random city that he's never heard of. He goes to pull up the web browser to google this place when he sees something wrong.

The browser is different.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Peter stares at the tiny symbol, and he clicks it open. He can hear his own breathing as he watches the screen. Instead of Chrome, Peter is looking at a version that calls itself "Silver." The opening page sure looks like Google, but the logo says "Abacus."

"Wait, no." Peter mutters, leaning back in his chair.

Why is it- No. He's pretty sure that this one random place in America wouldn't use a completely different browser that looks the exact same as another one. Right? That's not- That's not normal. Even other countries use this browser.

A new city that he's never heard of.

A bad guy he's never heard of.

The phones don't work here, and if they do, they call someone else.

Peter turned to ash.

Peter turned to ash.

It should be impossible. The man hadn't been using magic, he thinks, but- No, maybe he did? Peter thought he was making the spacial jumps using the wrist band he was wearing, and that? That was all tech. But how can a single wristband do what a particle accelerator needs so much space for? If it wasn't magic, and it was tech, then how did that man bring Peter to an alternate reality?

That has to be what's going on here, and implausible as it is. It changes everything that Peter was thinking- wow, he can't believe he considered he was in Atlantis. That… was dumb of him. He'll blame it on getting knocked so hard on the ground.

Somehow, Peter ended up in an alternate universe. It's weird that it took Peter using the internet to figure that one out.

Ned is gonna lose his shit when Peter tells him about this.

Wait, no, focus, Peter!

He runs a hand down his face, resisting the urge to keel over and get sick. He doesn't even know how he got here, besides that the man had been the reason for it. He has no idea how to get back without that villain and his wrist watch.

This would be a dream come true, under any other circumstance. Finding an alternate reality, proving that it's possible? It's too bad that this is a nightmare right now that he's living it!

Oh, god, what if his molecules start freaking out about being in a different universe? Or what if he gets sick because his body isn't used to the air here? He's heard about that theory for time travel, and how if you jumped too far your body won't have the anti-bodies needed to keep you from getting sick. Wait, but Peter's immune system is jacked as heck after getting enhanced. Would he get sick that way? Does that mean if Peter time travels, or in this case, hops universes, would he get sick like a regular human would, or is he immune to that? And-

Oh, no, Tony is gonna freak.

If Peter gets even the tiniest of gunshots or stab wounds, they get fussy. Peter once accidentally slept off a gunshot for two days and when he woke up, he was in the hospital and everyone was fussing at him to never do it again. But how in the world are they gonna be able to track him to an alternate universe!?

Tony had saw him- Tony might think he's dead.

Peter had considered it for a split second, but Tony has no idea. He had seen Peter disappear into ash.

But…

He wouldn't give up, right? He wouldn't call it a day, throw up his hands and say, "Well, guess I need a new student." That wouldn't happen.

Peter puts his head on the desk, trying to get some air in his lungs. It feels like someone is choking him still.

Tony will go looking for him. Or, no, Peter… It's up to Peter to find that villain and get back, isn't it? He doubts that the villain would go right back to Manhattan at this second, not with every Avenger after him. So that villain has to be here, where Peter is.

…Hopefully.

And maybe someone else got pulled here too? Though he doubts it, if he's being truthful to himself. The man and Peter had disappeared together, and he doesn't think anyone else was attacked before him. They would have been alerted to it.

But still, he should keep an eye out, or go looking for them after he's done here. He might not have his phone, but he still has everything else that was on his person: his backpack, his spider-suit, his webshooters, his tools, and the clothes on his back: a black hoodie, baggy jeans, and tennis shoes. He also has his emergency funds that Tony and Pepper always make him carry.

Peter ignores how wrong the Abacus site feels to him, and he 'googles' Gotham City first. There's a number of things he needs to catch up on, starting with where the hell he is. That man earlier had been really surprised that Peter had never heard of them, and it feels like a bad sign.

The first article that pops up are the more recent news stories, the first being about a man named Bruce Wayne, the second about that Two-Face guy, and the third being about the mayor. Whoa, the mayor got assassinated?

How is that not front page news? Where Peter comes from, that would be the headline! It's not like mayors get assassinated every day! How important are this Bruce guy and Two-Face that their articles come up first?

Peter thinks it's probably a better idea to get a history of the place first, so he googles- no, abacuses?- searches. He searches for their version of Wikipedia. …And he finds it's called the exact same thing. At least that's normal!

He clicks on Gotham Wikipedia with bated breath. And it doesn't take long for Peter to figure out just how bad the situation is.

Gotham isn't just a city, it's apparently a hellhole.

The villains- which, by the way, have their own separate Wiki page, and it's longer than any other article about Gotham- are rampant through the streets. They are always managing to escape a place called "Arkham Asylum" and get back on the streets to commit mass murders, rule their underground (blatant) crime organizations, the works. Peter feels a shiver of mortification run down his spine the more and more he reads.

Joker, Harley Quinn, Hugo Strange, Poison Ivy, Mister Freeze, Firefly, Bane, Hush, Black Mask- It just keeps going! Peter reads and reads, biting at his thumbnail the more he learns about each villain. It sounds like most of them are locked up at the moment, which is a good thing, but there are a few that are just out there, in Gotham, right now. Peter thought Queens had a lot of villains wondering around, but this place takes the cake.

There's even another tab for crime lords and rouges. Red Hood sounds particularly terrifying to Peter, and he makes a mental note to never run into that guy at all costs. In fact, he hopes he runs into none of them, and just the villain that he's chasing.

What kind of villain playground is this world running? How could anyone let it get this bad? Where is the government? Where are the heroes?

Heroes.

Heroes.

Peter's heart swells at the thought. He needs heroes! They'll be able to help him! For villains, there is always a hero around. He searches for just regular "list of heroes." The first thing that pops up is a website- .

It reminds Peter of the Avengers website, so he lets out a small breath of relief. There are heroes here, so maybe he'll find one and they can help him. The list pops up first, but there are no pictures save for a few. Which tracks, he thinks. Natasha never gets on camera on purpose, to hide her identity as much as possible.

Superman is the first name… Peter chooses to be polite. He did name himself Spider-Man after all. This guy has a cape on his costume that Tony would disapprove of, but Thor would appreciate. Then there's Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, the Flash, and Batman.

Peter recognizes that name, Batman. He was in the articles about the villains of Gotham, and he was also mentioned on the home page. Peter clicks his name, and it sends him right back to the Gotham Wiki. Peter scowls at that. So this guy doesn't have any information on him other than what the public knows.

Whatever, he can try to work with that. Peter clicks on "vigilantes."

Batman is the first one on the list, and there's an unknown age for him, as well as the others. It's clear that he's been fighting for decades now, so he must be old. Under that is the "Robin List."

Peter raises a brow. Robin list?

And… It's the most confusing list Peter has ever seen.

They're sidekicks, he thinks? They're constantly changing it up- first there was only one Robin, but now there's multiple. There's several different versions of "Batgirl" and there are a couple names like "Spoiler" and "Signal" that stick out as the only ones not bird or bat themed. There is no 'current' list either, just a weird amalgamation of names and time periods that don't make a lot of sense. And not a single picture of them, either! There's not even a picture of this Batman guy!

How does he get in contact with people that barely exist on their own wiki page? Spider-Man is a small time hero and even Peter has a longer wiki article on him!

This is gonna get tricky, should he-

Peter pauses.

"There is a no-metahuman rule in Gotham, set up by Batman himself."

What?

A no-meta… metahuman? Is that their version of a mutated or enhanced person? Like… Like Peter?

Is he illegal in Gotham?

Peter can't believe it. There's no way this guy is gonna help him, if he knows Peter is a meta. So even if he stumbles across these guys somehow, he could be in danger. And, Peter realizes, he has no proof he's from an alternate dimension.

Would Peter trust a random superpowered person who claims to be from an alternate dimension, just swooping into Queens? Well… Probably. But would Natasha? Or any of the others? Absolutely not. They'd lock the guy up and run tests before they allow him to do or say anything else. And Peter can't…

He can't risk that, if he doesn't know these heroes. They could be good, and kind, and all that, and he knows it isn't so black and white. But echoes of nightmares of being poked and prodded and experimented on if he was found out itch at the back of Peter's mind. It wasn't that long ago that he knew if the wrong person got their hands on him, Peter wouldn't be seen again.

He almost was never seen again.

He has to be careful. He can't risk telling these heroes anything until he's sure they aren't a threat. It's all so complicated… He should just go look to see if anyone from his universe also came here, which is doubtful at the moment, but he has to try. Oh, wait. Peter has to check the laws.

He doesn't know what Gotham's standards are, and he certainly doesn't have the biggest trust in the police. He works with them and they having a begrudging respect for him, but until he was certified as an Avenger, Peter always had to play keep-away with them. They tried to arrest him more than once. He doesn't want to risk anything with Gotham's police- though it does sound like they suck at their job, at least a little bit. (A lot a bit.)

The only thing that Peter sees he should look out for is that there's a curfew placed on the city. He found this through a Facebook (though, it's called FamilyNotes here, which is lame), post on the GCPD page. It starts at 8PM, which is, objectively, early. But based on the replies underneath this post, no one follows this curfew. Geez, Gotham citizens are colorful with their choice of words.

Peter should try, at least. He doesn't want any cops on his case. It'll be awkward getting finger-printed and nothing showing up in the database. Or, something, and it goes downhill from there.

He sighs and logs out of the computer, letting Little Legs crawl up his arm and into his sleeve. He'll also have to avoid police during the daytime lest he get caught "skipping" school, but he doubts that it's as reported here as it would be reported back at home. The city is not in good shape, which means the schools probably aren't either.

It's getting too close to lunchtime for Peter to still be here. He got everything he needed off of the computer, and he should start looking for places to take shelter in for the unforseen future. His hand runs over his webshooter on his wrist underneath his jacket sleeve. He should also find a place to get more web-fluid, because if he's searching for this villain, it won't just be as Peter.

Ah, shit, that's right. Suddenly, Peter's backpack feels heavy when he thinks about his Spider-Man suit inside. If Batman really doesn't allow metas into Gotham City, than that surely means that Spider-Man won't be a welcome addition. He should limit how much he's seen as Spider-Man as well. It would get dicey if these Bat-Heroes started chasing him around for being an unknown vigilante on their turf.

As Peter makes his way to the door, he notices what is different than before. Sitting at the reception desk, the woman had finally moved out of her office. Peter must have been too focused to check on her. She doesn't look up when Peter gets there, too busy typing on her phone. At least his computer was facing away from the desk, so she didn't see what he was doing.

She's wearing warmer clothes than Peter is, which makes him wonder if it's going to get colder outside soon. Her red hair is cut around her shoulders, and she's around her mid twenties, he thinks.

…?…

Huh.

His spider-sense doesn't recognize her as a threat, but it does catch that she knows he's there. Is she pretending to check her phone? Does she suspect him? If she does, then wouldn't his spider-senses try to warn him? Her heartbeat is regular and even, so she doesn't appear to be angry, if she knows Peter isn't supposed to have been messing around on the computers.

Still, he tries to sneak past her. He keeps his head low and his hands in his pockets, praying that she doesn't call him out. But alas, despite his best efforts, her cheery voice catches his attention as he almost makes it to the doors.

"No books today?" She asks. Peter looks over his shoulder to see an amused grin on her lips as she watches her phone.

He turns around to face her, shrugging one shoulder as he examines her carefully. He gives a wobbly smile and shakes his head, not seeing anything in her body language and not smelling any of the human emotions that would indicate a danger to him. Besides, his spider-senses have relaxed now.

"Nah, not today. Maybe another time."

There's an uncomfortable pause, where he can see her eyes fixated on one spot of her phone screen. She's pretending to read. Then, she finally looks up from her phone and at him through oval-shaped glasses. There's a curious glint in her eyes, that flashes with something else as she glances him over. Peter feels the tingle of his healing along his back, but he doesn't know why it sticks out to him so much.

"…We don't get a lot of people around here lately, so I know my regulars. I haven't seen you here before." She tries to sound like she's joking. Her gaze is checking Peter's face once- twice- three times, as if making sure he's there.

Just his luck.

"I, uh, just moved here." Peter says automatically. Which, yeah, technically. He just got here.

Amusement has left her voice. "You moved to Gotham?"

For the first time since getting here, Peter can understand that sentiment. The crime rate is unlike anything Peter has ever seen before, even the more dangerous parts of Queens. The villains in this city run rampant and do what they want. Not exactly the city for the American Dream, that's for sure.

Peter scratches his cheek, trying to think of something that doesn't sound bogus.

"Cheap rent."

Agh.

The woman nods, but she doesn't seem quite so convinced. No doubt because what lame ass excuse was that? Peter should be put down just for his bad lying skills. She doesn't let it show other than the twitch of a frown on her lips. "Yeah, I get that. My rent is damn cheap right now. You plan to be a regular here?"

"I mean, I do like libraries." Peter mutters, because he has a feeling he'll be using the library to keep an eye on the internet, and to learn more about this place. He hadn't seen anything on that villain list about the villain he's chasing, so he'll have to keep an eye out. "Though, I've never seen a library so…"

"Empty?" She finishes, and Peter nods. He was trying to be polite about it, but there's no way around it. "Yeah, the city often under funds its programs, and the public here is a little more interested in keeping it together than reading."

"That's a shame. I personally think it's easier to keep it together if you're reading. Nothing like a little escapism to season up your life." Peter grins softly.

To his relief, the woman breaks out into a bemused smile and laughs. It's bright and airy, sort of like how May's used to be. "I'm Barbara, it's nice to meet you. You should come by every now and then, if only for a little peace and quiet."

"You get that a lot here, huh?" Peter looks around the empty place, and she grins back at him. Her mood has lifted somewhat, but Peter can see the ghost of something in her eyes. She wasn't hostile and still isn't, but she's trying to figure him out. She keeps giving him a once over. "It's nice to meet you too. My name's Peter, I'll try to drop by."

"Great!" She sounds genuinely happy about that.

Which Peter can't say anything about, because he'd be glad to have some kind of company if he worked somewhere this dead. This could be a great refuge to have should this new world get a little overwhelming for him.

Peter quickly turns to the door, but Barbara calls out to him, "Wait, before you go! You need a library card."

Peter almost winces. Almost.

He was hoping and praying she wouldn't notice. He was at the computer, after all, and it said he needed a card to log in. If she noticed something weird, she isn't acting like it. Maybe she hadn't even seen Peter at the computer at all? The divider is pretty tall, and Peter is pretty short.

"Uh, thanks." Peter says, and he glances at the reception desk.

Please present ID for library cards.

"But- uh- I can't-" Peter backtracks, putting his hand on the handle to get out. Barbara looks up in surprise. "My dad- uh- waiting for me. Lunch time. I gotta go."

"But-"

"I'll get one next time!" Peter says, cringing at himself as he flings his way out of the door. He hurries down the steps, hearing a short curse from underneath Barbara's breath.

Barbara has seen a lot in her life. Unfortunately, 'a lot' includes what most wouldn't want to consider. Evil is spread thick through Gotham, overcrowding what could have been a beautiful place. Violence has bred more violence, and it isn't uncommon to see bruises on someone's face.

But a kid?

Gosh, the kid that came into this library couldn't have been more than 12 years old? Or maybe a little older? It was one thing when she noticed a stranger at the computer- and she has her card holders memorized, considering no one ever comes to Gotham Public Library. But when she finally saw his face, her heart broke.

He was scared. Maybe of her, or just scared in general. Maybe scared that she'd contact someone. Peter, he called himself. Peter had bruises under his eye, spread over his cheek, as if a much older person had taken a swing at him. His lip was busted and blood had dried over his chin.

The worst was his neck. Purpling, nasty bruises in the shape of fingerprints on his skin. Someone had choked that kid, had ruined any innocence he could have had to violence. And he was jumpy, about to take flight at any second. He was naturally standing with his weight leaning forward, as if used to sneaking around on the balls of his feet or taking off at the first chance of danger. One wrong word, and the kid would be out the door.

She had tried to get him to stay, because she knew that a form of trust would help her when she inevitably had to ask about the bruises. She was hoping that he'd open up to her about who did it- maybe send the others their way, because those bruises were not from the hands of another kid. Her blood boiled at the thought.

But he ran before she even said something. And now she has to do this the hard way.

Because there is no way she's just going to let it go. Not when she has the means to find him, to check on him, and maybe get him out of a bad situation. Her hands started to shake when she thought about what those bruises could have come from, so she took a minute to regain her calm demeanor before sending a message in the group chat.

BATCHAT

Babs [6:30pm]: hey guys, just met a new yorker. he's no older than like. 12 years old I think?

Timmy [6:31pm]: and this is relevant to the batchat why

Babs narrows her eyes at her phone. He had better be tired and forgetting not to sass her.

Babs [6:32pm]: because he moved TO gotham today and looked like he dropped out of the sky. you should have seen this kid. his face and neck are covered in bruises and his clothes are dirty like he just got beat up or hit by a car or something

Timmy [6:34pm]: okay, yeah, sounds important

Yeah, it sure is. Oh, she almost forgot about the other thing.

Babs [6:34pm]: also, he hacked the library computer

Dicko [6:35pm]: he what

Babs [6:35pm]: he hacked the computer

Timmy [6:36pm]: …like, how?

How is a question that she still hasn't answered. He's a pretty young kid, so he has to be pretty smart in order to figure that one out. They don't have guest log ins because of how bad the area is, but people just present an ID and Barbara logs it. Doesn't even have to be a real ID, just something that they can trace back to anyone ordering bomb parts off of Abacus.

Peter being covered in bruises like that, and also getting into her computer system? It leaves a bad taste in her mouth Her immediate thought was that Peter was forced to do it. Forced to order something on the computer so that it couldn't trace back to them. It wouldn't be the first time that something like it happened in Gotham. He's a smart kid, and that can get him into deep shit.

Babs [6:37pm]: i noticed he was at the computers after i helped out Signal earlier. you know how it is here, you need a card to log in, and i didn't recognize him, so he didn't have one. i was a little suspicious so i started a conversation with him. his accent is from new york

Babs [6:40pm]: tried to get him a card and he said he'd get one next time and sprinted out of here. i wondered if maybe he just used a friend's card but when i checked the logs, the last card holder to log in was Damian, a few months ago

Babs [6:43pm]: i don't know, i just thought it was weird that anyone would move TO gotham with a kid that young and then leave them to wander around the city alone? he had no parent with him, and he's hurt. badly. and then he caught my attention with the 'hacking my computers and leaving no trace behind' thing. if i hadn't caught him on his way out, then i never would have known he was there in the first place

Dicko [6:45pm]: sounds like serious trouble

She resists the urge to say 'no shit.' She can only imagine what could have happened to Peter. A kid that young shouldn't know violence, and the fact that he was brought to Gotham unsettles her greatly.

It's not…

Barbara almost pauses. It couldn't be a trafficking case, could it? Or a gang thing?

Babs [6:46pm]: at the very least, i'm concerned about why he looked so jumpy when we talked. he sounds like a sweet kid, but if he's new to town and all by himself, he might get dragged into something. again, from the looks of it. if anyone else notices he can hack, they might try to take advantage of him

Dicko [6:47pm]: guess we keep an eye out 4 him 2night and check on him. did u get a name?

She sighs in relief, despite knowing that Dick wouldn't even hesitate to help out. She also has no doubt that Jason was paying attention to the chat, even though he swears he doesn't. He would be keeping an eye out as well, and the others would too.

Babs [6:48pm]: Peter, no last name. he's about 5'5", scrawny, wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans, curly brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin. bruises on his neck look like hands from someone older.

As the night starts to settle over Gotham City, Peter feels a sense of foreboding settling in on him. It's a familiar and awful ache in his chest, that leaves him a little breathless.

After he left the library, he spent the rest of the day trying to find anyone that could be from his universe. He followed his spider-senses, but they just led him to weird places, like outside of hardware stores or the police station in another district than the one he appeared in. Neither of which are helpful to Peter right now, so he left it alone.

The trail is cold. There's no sign of that villain anywhere, or, if there was, it blended into this city too easily.

Peter passed by a lot of crime that he forced himself to stay out of. He could handle the muggings and the petty robberies, but he was also certain he'd get outed as a meta, and he doesn't want to introduce Spider-Man so soon. Not until he gains his bearings, or wraps his head around this situation.

He's been on a wild goose chase all day, searching for someone that doesn't seem to exist, and his prize was a whole lot of nothing. Well, not nothing. He did find a good burger place to eat lunch, and now for dinner, he's got Chinese take out that reminds him of home.

With it getting dark outside, Peter switched from the streets to the rooftops. He dangles his legs over the side of one now, twirling his fork in the noodles and taking a large bite as he looks out over the city. This rooftop is particularly high, so Peter can keep an eye out for anything that seems out of the ordinary (crime). The cool air bites at the tips of his ears and nose, but he's warm underneath the jacket that Happy gave him.

He lets a little shiver out as the wind passes by, reflecting on this insane place. It's… a mess, if only to simplify it.

His spider-senses go off on every street corner; the city is packed full of so many people that he's sure there's not enough room for them. It's even worse in one section that the people have dubbed, so creatively, "Crime Alley", which used to be called Park Row. The sign outside the limit didn't have to tell him not to head that direction. He took one look in there and his spider-senses rattled off danger danger danger! So he turned tail and went the opposite direction.

There are fires in the distance of the skyline, mottling the night sky with acrid black smoke, only noticeable through the greenish yellow hue of the city lights. It's just odd enough to not look like home, with nothing standing out as familiar, while also being something like it.

It makes him feel more nervous than he should be. He chomps onto an eggroll, his legs swinging back and forth in thought.

Spider-Man just 'helps out the little guy.' That's what Peter wants, has always wanted. Aunt May and Uncle Ben always taught him what matters, and what matters most are his neighbors. He helps old ladies with their groceries, listens to old men tell their stories, helps kids with their science homework and fairs, and that… He's good with that. It's more than enough of what he wants.

But, Spider-Man is also an Avenger.

They always remind him of that. They don't expect Peter to fight aliens from outer space, or the world threatening crap that swings overhead. They actually prefer it this way, watching Peter use his powers for something as simple as neighborhood clean up.

He can always see it in their eyes, like they're watching the future through him. They never got a choice with what to do for their powers and abilities, they were thrown into the fray and left to figure it out. Forced to, lest they let everyone down. So Peter thinks that's why they're so eager to keep him out of the big stuff, and… Well, it's not like he had a chance to be cared for, before. So he lets them fuss over him, lets them care now. It feels nice.

An Avenger who gets cats out of trees is still an Avenger, so he can't let them down. If they were here, they'd have a clue what to do. Peter has to do right by them, because he's on their team. He's just as much a hero as the rest of them. He can't let them down, nor can he give up.

He's sure that Tony and the others are looking for him, so he has to look for them too. He wipes away a stress tear from his face, pretending it was never there at all.

But this still… It all reminds him of when he first ran from his last foster house.

That day, it had been cold, and Peter had been truly, completely, alone.

No friends,

No family,

Nothing waiting for him. He was in a brand new jungle, with powers he didn't fully understand, and grieving a life he was supposed to have.

He wasn't even reported missing until a week after he left, because Westcott was under the impression that Peter would crawl back there and apologize. Well, like hell was he going to do that.

He made it work then, and he has something great going for him now. He used to be lonely, when he was just 'Parker' and Spider-Man. He had a lot of friends, but he always went back to the chicken coop on an abandoned roof that was his shelter and wished he had a real home to go to. He wished he could hear May call his name for dinner one more time, he wished he could run to Ben's arms and get a big hug. It was silly to imagine, and childish to wish for.

He had resigned himself to that life until he met the Avengers. More specifically, Tony. They gave him a family before and after they found out that Peter was a homeless orphan. They protected him, prevented him from ever having to go back to foster homes that would ultimately fail to love him. And that happened after they found out Peter had been lying to their faces for months.

Peter had left his last foster house when he was 12, a week before Christmas. He had been bitten by the spider and-

And, well, a lot happened that night.

He doesn't like to dwell on that part.

He had started up Spider-Man a few months after getting his bearings with being homeless. After a year and a half, Spider-Man had a reputation, and so did "Parker."

That was the name he went by, instead of Peter. It was close enough without it being a lie, so it was his default answer when someone asked him. Parker wasn't Peter, he was free. Just like Spider-Man isn't Peter, because no one could hurt Spider-Man and get away with it. Parker may not have been going around stopping crime, but he was helping people. He became pretty well known in his more frequent areas as someone to call when you're having trouble, because Peter could always find somewhere for them to go. To be safe.

He met Steve and Bucky first, doing just that. He was following a lead of a kidnapper that got away when he was just Parker, and before he could figure out how to get out of a mugging, they were already taking them out. Steve had patched up his face and Bucky had thrown the muggers in the nearest police station.

Peter had given them his name- "Parker." They offered to walk him home (he didn't have one) and to call his mom (she's, like, real dead), and Peter just pointed them in the direction of the kidnapper he was tailing as a distraction, then booked it out of there. He thought that would be the end of it, but he ran into the two of them again a week later at his favorite restaurant, Dug Out.) Man, he misses Biggie's food right now.)

And then Sam Wilson helped him out of a fight with an older teen that had a grudge against him, and brought him to have lunch with him and Dr. Banner.

It's amazing what an hour long conversation can do. They had no reason to think that Parker was anything but some scraggly poor genius in a bad neighborhood in Queens, but they sat with him for lunch and Dr. Banner had the nerve to be impressed. Find Peter sitting in Stark Tower learning from Dr. Banner himself, eating dinner at the Tower every other night, and growing close to Tony when the man poached him from Dr. Banner.

The rest was history… save for Peter getting kidnapped by what ended up being a large crime syndicate that was snatching up kids and teens to try and experiment on them, and finding out that was why the Avengers were all over Queens and trying to contact Spider-Man.

Peter still remembers wondering if Tony would write it off. If he'd just wonder for a week or two why Peter stopped coming around, or if he'd keep digging. He had spent months trying to learn more about Peter, like it was some sort of game. At least, that's what Peter thought it was. He thought that would be it, that he'd have to save himself and all of those other kids, all by himself. He waited for his chance to escape while strapped down on a cold metal experiment table, recalling nightmares of this exact scenario.

And then Tony tore the roof off the lab.

Tony practically destroyed the entire building while looking for Peter. He'll never forget how tightly Tony had hugged him when he saw Peter, how it felt like Tony thought Peter would disappear if he let go. That was the moment Peter really understood the lengths Tony had gone to just to find him- to find some kid who'd been lying about his name and where he came from the entire time Tony knew him. Peter thought no one would save him, but Tony went looking for him.

That had meant the world. Peter spent so long fighting and fending for himself. And Tony went looking for him. He was there.

Tony became his foster-dad and his mentor after that day, and Peter sleeps soundly at night. He no longer talks to himself at dinner, but talks to his mentors. Sure, he gets annoyed at the commute to Queens every night, but this is a good life now. He lives with Tony and Pepper, he has his own room- Pepper and Peter almost have Tony giving up on the 'no dog' front. Peter has a life he thought he'd never deserve, once upon a time.

It's not… it's not a typical family. Peter knows that Tony is still just his foster dad, and they haven't really spoken about much else beyond that. But Peter holds it dearly to his heart all the same, pretends that Tony and Pepper want him, want him, because they had moved the mountains to get Peter in their house at all. The idea that if this all goes wrong, if Peter can never go back, and he'll get stuck at the beginning again?

That terrifies him. Just a lot little.

He's eating alone for the first time in months. Sitting atop a roof in an unfamiliar city, in an unfamiliar world, looking down at the people below and wondering what's in store for him.

Scared that he'll mess it up, like he messes everything up.

…He made it work back then, and he's gonna make it work now. He's not gonna give up just because it's going to be hard. Peter fought for the family that he has right now, he's not going to let some asshat take that away from him. If that means navigating through Crime Central and fighting off this mysterious Batman, he'll do it.

He can already think of what it'll be like when he gets back to his own world, when all of this is over. Everyone will let him pick dinner (tradition is that whoever had the last crazy adventure gets to pick what they all eat), and they'll talk about this crazy alternate world that Peter went to. One day it'll turn into a distant, funny memory.

They'll have loads of fun with the superheroes and vigilantes of this place. What were their names again? Nightwing… Red Robin, Batman… something with an S? Spoil…? There were more, he remembers…

…behind… hello!

Peter's senses tingle from his neck down his spine, but it isn't danger.

He hadn't heard the incredibly calm heartbeat until now, not with the noise of the city. But he can hear them now, lurking in the shadows somewhere behind him. There's the gentle pad of a foot, the breath out as they see him. They're approaching from another rooftop, but why?

It's not danger, like he said. Just an alert that someone is watching, has noticed him too. But what are they doing on a roof?

Peter turns to face behind him, eyes scanning the dark shadows. He can sort of see a figure there, can hear their heart spike. Are they scared?

Of him?

Why would-

Oh.

He's not in costume, and whoever is in the shadows is used to lurking. Peter shouldn't have been able to spot them.

Taking another bite of his food, Peter turns back around, as if he hadn't saw anything there. He chews for a few seconds, an anxious sweat starting to form as the seconds tick by. Why are they just staring at him? They aren't even speaking, they're just watching him eat. Is it that weird for him to be up here?

Should he say something? Or should he-

"You shouldn't sit on the ledge like that, it's super dangerous."

Peter startles, surprised they actually spoke. He thought they were content with hiding in the shadows, but apparently not. He turns to look behind him again, one of his cheeks filled with food and he hopes it doesn't make him look stupid.

The figure is no longer hiding in the dark, but instead leaning on a wall in the light. Peter blinks at him, his mind flashing with the description of his costume- because the wiki article never gave a picture. He recalls a plan to avoid the vigilantes of this world for now, but that's apparently easier said than done.

Peter thinks this might be Nightwing. He has an even tan, a domino mask covering his eyebrows, the tops of his cheeks, and his eyes. Preventing his identity from being known, much like Peter before his final mask design.

Wavy black hair is pulled back to stay out of his face, and his suit is cooler than Peter imagined. Blue and black, with a bold bird design on the front. The wings spread into blue stripes down his arms. He has the build of Captain America, maybe a little more muscular. The man is somewhere in his mid to late twenties, probably, and he looks… worried.

Oh, right. Because Peter is dangling his legs off the side of a really tall building. Duh-doi, Parker.

Peter carefully picks his to-go box off of his lap and swings his legs back over the side to look safer, all the while glancing at Nightwing. The vigilante looks better with Peter not hanging off the side, but he's more satisfied when Peter scoots away from it altogether.

"Uh, hi?" Peter says after swallowing his food.

Nightwing steps closer, calm and collected. Peter's spider-senses do not move, no indication that he should watch out for this man. He takes a seat in front of Peter, matching his criss-cross style and setting his hands on his knees.

He's very relaxed in his movements, but Peter can sense an apprehension there. And for some reason, when Peter's eyes take in the small details of his face that he can see, he looks…

He looks like a face that Peter hasn't seen in a long time, but Peter can not recall a memory or a name.

"Hi," Nightwing smiles, and Peter wishes he could see where the man was looking. It makes it harder to tell what he's thinking, and his heartbeat is exceedingly calm in a way that reminds Peter of Natasha. "You know there's a curfew, right?"

Curfew? Oh yeah. That's why he's up here in the first place.

So it must be weird that he's up here, after all. He isn't used to that. Sure, no one is really dangling their feet off of the side of buildings, but people have roof parties, and he stumbles across the lone straggler or smoking groups in New York. Maybe Gotham is too crime-infested for even that bit of fun.

"…They said not to be on the street after dark." Peter points out slowly. "This is a roof."

Nightwing stares at him, a tiny, almost exasperated, smile on his lips. "You… It's still dangerous to be up here. How'd you even get up here?"

"Fire escape." Peter says, thankful he checked for that earlier. He gestures towards where it is vaguely, then tilts his head in thought. "…You're that Nightwing guy, right? Are vigilantes enforcing curfew? Aren't you busy?"

Nightwing shakes his head, leaning back to lean on his hands casually, as if he regularly chats with civilians like this. Maybe he does. Peter does it. "I am that Nightwing guy, but no, I'm not enforcing curfew. I'm just making sure you knew that, since you could get into trouble that way."

Peter shrugs, continuing to eat his food. Vigilante be darned, he's not letting this get cold and go to waste. "There was no clause stating I couldn't chill on a roof."

"I guess you're right." Nightwing doesn't sound mad about it, which is good. He actually sort of sounds like a nice guy, which means this is more information on him than Peter ever got from online. He supposes he's relaxed too much around the man, but his spider-senses not ringing makes it easier to do so. "Are you… sight seeing?"

"You could say that."

"What's there to look at, though?" Nightwing is doing a great job of selling his city. Well, Peter guesses that he'd have a hard time trying to be prideful of where he's from if Queens was this bad. Even though Queens was super dangerous before Peter started acting as Spider-Man, it had never been Gotham bad.

"I dunno. I'm new here. I guess old habits die hard."

Nightwing tilts his head at him. "You moved to Gotham? Where were you before? New York?"

Ah, his accent must give him away. He'll be glad to have a voice modulator if he runs into the vigilantes while in his spider-suit.

"Queens." Peter answers, and he wonders how often he's going to get that question in that exact same tone. "Got a little homesick and came up here, but it's not the same."

It's not a lie. Peter is missing the Avengers right now, and their obsession with Scarpetta's Italian takeout. He's missing late night lab conversations with Tony, and missing the familiarity of Queens. Here is different, yet reminding Peter of being alone. He doesn't like it.

"You always hang out on roofs?"

You have no idea.

"The view is much better in Queens." Peter smiles into his food, looking up at Nightwing, who doesn't take offense. He chuckles at the comment, but the worry doesn't appear to be going away.

In fact, Peter feels another spider-tingle. This time, it's as though Nightwing's gaze is directed at him, but Nightwing is turned away to look at the skyline at the moment. Peter doesn't like that his mask covers that.

"Why Gotham?"

Peter had said earlier to Barbara that it was cheap rent, but that doesn't make as much sense now that he's had time to think about it. He settles on a lie, though he feels bad for telling it.

"My dad's business, I guess. Wasn't told much else."

Nightwing takes a moment to reply, and Peter wonders if that was a weird response.

"What does he do?"

Peter shrugs. If he was older, feigning ignorance would be harder. But he's 14, and he can pretend not to know. "I dunno, old man stuff? He doesn't talk about it with me."

Nightwing smiles again, but it's a thin one. "I wish I could say you might like it here, but…"

"But your city's crime rate is 100%?" Peter takes another bite of eggroll. Nightwing nods knowingly, and Peter's eyes glance towards the smoke-filled horizon. "Honestly, I'm not too worried about it. There are vigilantes here. Don't know if you heard."

Meaning, well, Batman and those Robins. But him, too. He's a superhero, even though Nightwing only sees a scrawny kid. Or, well, he's not really out there defeating aliens from outer space, and his hardest villain to beat is Black Cat, the cat burgler, so it's more like just a regular hero/vigilante stuff. But he's been told his strength would set him up for superheroness if he wanted. Peter can take care of himself, he's done it before. People underestimate him only because Peter isn't normal, and they have no idea.

Nightwing finally relaxes, sitting up straight again. "You have a lot of confidence in us?"

"Well, maybe, after I see your track record." Peter pokes his food with his fork, taking on an air of mock superiority. "Got a resume I can look at, Mr. Nightwing?"

"I left in the Batmobile." Nightwing feigns disappointment, and holding his hands up in a What Can You Do? motion. Peter pauses on that word- Batmobile? Seriously?- but Nightwing doesn't notice. "You'll have to trust me on this one."

"I'll keep that in mind if I get kidnapped or something." Peter jokes. But this time, it falls flat.

Nightwing is quiet for a long pause, and he eventually sighs as if holding a great weight. His voice is thick with an emotion Peter can't name, when he asks, "So what happened?"

Peter stares at him. Is it that easy to tell Peter is from an alternate dimension? It took one look? Is Peter that out of place here? "Huh? What do you mean?"

Nightwing reaches up to touch his own neck, then points at Peter. "To you, kid. What happened to you?"

Peter's back itches with the healing factor, a reminder that it wasn't done repairing whatever happened to Peter when he crashed earlier. There's a distinct lack of that healing itch on his neck, and Peter hadn't paid much attention to how often he had been clearing his throat, or how scratchy his voice was.

He forgot it was even there. His healing factor had still been working on his back, because it always focuses on the worst injury first- oh, wow. He'd been parading around the city looking purple and yellow all day without even knowing. That explains the crazy looks he kept getting. How stupid could he be?

And then, Peter recalls the grip that had reached around his throat, so tight, so angry with him even though Peter did nothing wrong, that reminds him of Westcott's house-

"I don't know." Peter blurts out. He directs his gaze to his food instead of Nightwing's stare. How can the guy have such a piercing gaze without Peter seeing his eyes? And who says I don't know about that? Is Peter really a genius, like everyone keeps telling him? He thinks he might be a fucking idiot.

"It hurts, doesn't it? You can tell me what happened, I can help you."

Help?

Peter doesn't think so.

He's just a random street kid right now. A meta-human, as they call it, who shouldn't be in Batman's city. With no proof that he's from an alternate dimension- and could, actually, be seen more as a threat than someone they need to help. And Peter remembers the times before when he was hurt by adults who wanted to 'help', before the Avengers. He remembers being strapped down to a table, being poked and prodded like his nightmares always showed him, remembers feeling weak when Tony got him out of there.

Strangers are bad. Peter knows. Strangers can hurt you. Or they send you somewhere where you'll get hurt. And they'll think they're doing something right.

He stopped trusting those kinds of people a long time ago. Even if they fully mean well, they just wanted to send Peter into the system. Or back home to his foster parents. Peter can't stand the thought of those places, it hurts more than the bruises on his neck.

Nightwing's gaze feels like it's burning through Peter's skull. Trying to get him to look up.

"Was it your dad?"

Peter shoots up to glare at him, anger sparking up too fast, but Peter can't hold it back. He fumes at Nightwing, "Don't ever say that. He would never hurt me."

Not Tony. Tony would never hurt me, not like the others.

Nightwing's hands rise in surrender, his eyebrows raising and his heartbeat picking up for a second, before calming once more. "I'm sorry, kid, I just- It's bad. I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine." Peter stabs his fork a little too aggressively into his plate.

"So if not your dad, then who?"

"Just- a guy- I don't remember!" Peter scowls at Nightwing, then pointedly looks away with a very much not childish thank you very much huff. "Aren't you busy?"

"I'm not-"

The buzzing from Nightwing's comm interrupts him. Peter raises a brow, and Nightwing knows he's been caught. The man huffs in frustration, jumping to his feet and stepping towards the ledge.

"And off he goes." Peter mutters, knowing the all too familiar cut off of a hero. He can't help Peter. Getting back to Tony and Pepper will help him. He can already hear his mentors telling him to be careful teaming up with someone, because even people who appear to be good guys can have an agenda.

"I'll see you again," Nightwing promises, and Peter shakes his head. This guy is insistent. "You'll catch a cold if you stay out here too long. Make sure to get inside and rest, kid, even if it is a Saturday."

"Thanks, Mom."

Nightwing sets a hand on his heart in mock offense, one foot on the ledge and the wind tousling his hair. There's a chatter from his comm that sounds like more than one voice this time. It almost sounds like when the Avengers jab at each other and it sets off a round of teasing. The familiarity of it strikes Peter hard, and he looks away from Nightwing's face.

"…Stay safe." Nightwing tells him, and it feels heavy in the air.

Peter forces himself to look up at him, because the guy was only trying to help. He doesn't know what else he sees in Nightwing's expression before he takes off into the night.

He leaps from the side of the building with a graceful twist, an air of extravagance that reminds Peter of a circus act- a high rise leap of a performer. It's beautiful and practiced, and Peter itches to copy it, telling himself later. He extends a grappling hook into the air at a safe distance, almost similar to the way Peter would swing his web, and he's gone in a moments notice. Leaving Peter alone of the roof once more.

He sighs to himself, biting back a frown and setting the empty to-go box to the side.

He feels guilty, getting so annoyed. It's just- Peter, he knows Tony. He trusts Tony, one of the only people in the world who knows exactly what Peter went through. The man would never raise a fist, let alone his words, in Peter's direction. So for some reason, the idea that Tony could do something like leave bruises on Peter, it made his skin crawl and that anger he tries to push down crawl up, loud and nasty.

But Nightwing was only trying to help… If he sees Nightwing again, he should apologize for snapping.

Peter was worried about meeting Gotham's vigilantes, but apparently as long as he's in civilian clothes, he'll be fine. For Nightwing, at least. He knows nothing about the others. If it went as well as it could have gone, maybe he… could trust Nightwing? But Peter has no proof, nothing to say that he isn't crazy.

Man, Peter has the weirdest luck. He's always meeting superheroes randomly like this. That's how the Avengers found out about him, when they were running around Queens for something entirely different. They kept running into Peter, and adopted him soon after that.

But that won't happen here. He has a family already.

Dick stretches out his arm, wincing when he feels the pull of his muscle. He almost botched his shoulder after a bad landing earlier. He can only blame himself for that- he had gotten distracted, thinking about Peter.

It was even worse than what Babs had described to him. He was blatantly hoping that when he got there it would be early Halloween makeup, because the holiday isn't that far off from now. But it wasn't, he could tell based on the way the kid reacted. He knew real injuries when he saw them.

Firstly, Dick nearly had a heart attack when Peter had turned around. He thought he was being quiet, but the kid locked eyes with him. As in, made eye contact with him. At least, he thought so. He must have just heard Dick, somehow. Maybe his feet landed just a little too rough?

But it wasn't just that. It was that when Peter turned around, the bruises on his face were that bad. They had to have come from big fists, they were that large on his cheek. His lip busted, and his neck…

Dick has to take a deep breath.

He's a cute kid, baby faced and innocent eyes. And he's got a clever sense of humor, one that seems a little adult for such a young person. Clearly, he had to grow up faster than he should have. He was familiar, somehow, and Dick couldn't shake off the hurt that ate away at his chest when he saw him.

Maybe it was that the kid has his mother's eyes- not just because of the strikingly similar color, but that they held a hope in them even when getting defensive. Or it could be that Peter reminded him of Jason. Of all of his siblings. Of himself. A kid that grew up too fast because the world has been cruel to him. He's too young to look so scared.

And scared is what he was.

He froze when Dick pointed out the bruising. And his face had crumbled, shutting himself off before Dick could find anything out about him. A fear that runs bone deep had flashed in his eyes, and Dick believes he shouldn't have been surprised when Peter ended up getting defensive. Fear does that to people.

"What are you glaring at the floor for?"

Dick purses out his bottom lip, furrowing his brows but not looking up from the ground. His suit is halfway off, too tired to undo it fully. Or he's taking his time because he's still distracted, mind racing with thoughts.

Tim isn't the same. He couldn't wait to get into a clean robe, wearing slippers on his feet and obviously going straight to the shower. But he had stopped when he saw Dick wasn't moving from his spot on the bench.

"Hello? Earth to Nightwing?" Tim waves his hand in front of Dick's face.

"Babs ran a background check on foster-kids going into Gotham." Dick says slowly.

"Are you talking about that Peter kid?" Tim tilts his head to the side, and Dick nods. There's a moment where Tim contemplates what to say next, always s careful with his words. "…What did you two talk about that has you like this?"

They had only heard the last bit of their conversation, after Dick's comms were forcibly connected by Babs to the others. Killer Croc had gotten out of Arkham, and Dick couldn't waste time and had to go look. But he didn't think Peter was a waste of time.

"It was bad, Tim." Dick finally looks up at the other. Tim frowns down at him, concern etched on his face. "The bruising. Someone tried to kill him, there's no other explanation. I'm seriously worried for his life."

Tim is quiet for a moment, an unease settling on him. It's unfortunate, but they see a lot of kids with bruises. Mostly from kids in gangs, or kids who got targeted at school, whatever the case. But it isn't often that they worry this much, or see bruising like that. Not on a kid, anyway.

"Babs said his neck was bruised…?"

"Someone older had to have done it. You can see the finger prints, the hands weren't from a kid." Dick's anger rises, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. He stretches out his shoulder again, growing more tense by the second. "He closed off when I pointed them out, swears that his dad didn't do it."

"How do you know he's a foster kid?" Tim sits down on the bench next to Dick.

"There are no families moving to Gotham that have a 'Peter' who matches the description, so Babs ran through foster families too, just in case. It's a short list of kids from outside coming here, which isn't a surprise. Peter isn't on that list either. So we don't know if he's a foster kid or not."

"Did she check Gotham's records? Maybe he was lying, and he's been here longer. He was trying not to get caught doing something, right? He hacked into the library computer without a log in." Tim's voice lowers, and Dick can tell that this part of Peter's story had caught his interest. "Maybe we should check if there are any imports coming in…"

"Imports of what?"

"Drugs, guns, bombs…"

"I don't think the kid is involved in that kind of stuff…"

Tim sighs as if he doesn't want to tell Dick this. "He may not have had a choice. He might be a good kid who just got… caught up in it. And… Well, I don't know if you've considered it yet, but what if it's a trafficking case?"

Dick looks back down at the floor. He can't shake the feeling that this wasn't the case, but he has no evidence to support it. He just keeps thinking back to the face that the kid made. He sincerely hopes that trafficking isn't what happened to Peter, he'd rather it be… No, there's nothing he'd rather about it. He wishes none of it happened. But please don't let it be that.

"You want us to check on him?"

He turns to his brother, recognizing the tone. "By 'check' you mean-"

"Don't call it stalking. Just call it watching. Checking." Tim suggests. "You wanna make sure he's alright, right? We'll keep an eye out for him, and you know, if it just so happens we're passing by-"

"Waiting outside his window-"

"-passing by and we see something going on, we can put a stop to it." Tim finishes, and Dick can't find it in himself to say anything against it. He considered it too, but- "I know you're gonna be going back and forth between here and Bludhaven for a while, considering we need the help with Croc, Two-Face, and the Firefly out. You're gonna be stretched thin, and I know you aren't gonna stop worrying about the kid. But it would help knowing we're watching him, right?"

Tim says it's easy to read Dick, that it's always clear what he's thinking. Dick is always interpreting their emotions, and finds it hard to cover up his own. He wears everything on his face, in his eyes. Tim's offer isn't just coming from an interest in the fact that the kid is hard to find.

"Thanks, Timmy," Dick reaches up to mess with his hair, and Tim groans and leans back from him.

"I'll take back the offer if you keep messing with me."

"Messing with you?" Dick scoffs, standing up and pushing both hands into his hair. Tim tries to grab at his wrists to make him stop. "I'm showing brotherly affection!"

"You're attacking me is what you're doing!"

"Deal with my love and care!"

"I'd rather willingly update my medical file." Tim lies, like a lying liar.

Peter couldn't wait to get out of there, anxious that Nightwing would choose to come back the very same night just to ask him more questions that Peter doesn't have the answers to. He can't afford letting the vigilante get nosy, because it wouldn't take much for him to figure out something is up with Peter.

He took his shelter underneath a water silo- and it was not lost on him that he did the exact same thing when he ran away from Westcott's house- and dumped out his backpack's contents after his conversation with Nightwing. It took less than five minutes to find one, but Peter ended up searching for an extra ten just because he didn't want to hang around that same spot and be more easy for Nightwing to find.

Back in his home universe, he had taken a chicken coop and an old, empty water silo and used that as his shelter when he was homeless. It was all connected through fencing and wood and a lot of sweat and tears to make it livable. It was the best that he could do, far enough away from people in an abandoned neighborhood, so nobody ever saw Spider-Man coming and going. He had turned the old chicken nests into cubbies and shelves for his belongings (and he did have a lot, considering Peter was constantly finding junk to turn into Spider-Man stuff, and also books and notebooks that he got his hands on.) He even had the privilege of battery powered Christmas lights he strung up on the inside of the coop and the outer part where the mesh fencing was.

It hadn't been a house, but it was insulated and had food and a mattress that wasn't diseased, so Peter liked it. It was his very own place, his spot in the world that no one else could get to. Peter sometimes goes back to visit it on the rough days after he was taken in by Tony, but he found that it was a lot less of a home than it used to feel. So he would go home.

But here, he doesn't have any of that. No Christmas lights, no chicken cubbies, no mattress. He uses some old wooden boards that were stacked against the roof entrance to make walls (though there are cracks in between them) and left an opening for a sliver of light. It gave him some illusion of privacy and a break from the wind. It wasn't insulated at all, so the cold still bothered him, but it wasn't that bad of a night. At least, not yet. He can hear a couple arguing underneath him in their apartment, so he made sure the door to the roof was locked for good measure.

Scanning the dumped contents of his backpack… it's evident that the supplies he has are limited.

A few granola bars, his school notebooks, a textbook for English, and his emergency money. As well as his Spider-suit and mask, his webshooters, and an extra jacket. Which will come in handy as a blanket, while his backpack can be a pillow for the night. It won't be comfortable, but he's dealt with a loss less on hand.

Peter opened his notebooks after stuffing everything else back in the backpack, popping open a pen and forcing himself to focus. Using his memory (and a lot of muttering), he wrote down everything that he could remember about the guy that attacked him. He drew (though, he is not an artist) the man's face and his hands, but more specifically, he drew that wrist piece that he wore.

Spacial jump technology, of all things. Teleportation that led to multiversal travel- it's practically unheard of, outside of magic. It's still theory for science… but science is just magic that can be explained, right? Peter knows there are a few people that can teleport, but he was never privy to their names or anything like that. They were just mentioned in passing.

The wrist tech looked like a watch and a gauntlet of some kind, but the man's fingers were visible. The piece started at his knuckles and pulled back to stop around mid-forearm, clinging to the skin there tight so that it's hard to remove.

It was a tech he's never seen before. It was unusual, and clunky, like it had just been put together. Or, rather, used with weird junkyard parts. Peter would know, because his tech looked like that before he had Tony.

Tony…

Peter writes down his name, underneath Stark Tower.

The man had approached Peter only a block away from the tower- that can't be coincidence. Tony is known as Iron Man, and Peter is known as his foster-son. There had been two months of paparazzi and social media trying to figure him out, and they never got anywhere because Tony had wiped clean any sort of record that Peter had online before then. Peter's only able to go out on his own because he's Spider-Man.

…Though he's sure that will be amended when he gets back…

Peter sighs at the lack of privacy he's going to get. Tony might consider putting him on lock down for a couple months, but Natasha might talk him down. Maybe. It's a hit-or-miss on that call. His mentors are iffy about what is and isn't chill. Multiverse travel through forced kidnapping sounds like Peter is going to get locked up in the Tower like Rapunzel. But instead of Ned calling down for Peter's hair, he'll take the elevator.

Focusing. He's focused. That doesn't matter right now.

What could this man's motivation be? Revenge on one of the superheroes in the Tower? But they wouldn't target Peter… not unless it's something for Tony.

He considered that maybe it could be that he's Spider-Man, but he doesn't know if this villain knows that. Because most villains, they'll refer to him as his super-hero persona, but this one called him "Stark's kid."

So it has something to do with Tony. And honestly… Peter's willing to bet that it was for tech.

That wrist watch has done something incredible, considering where Peter is at right now. It's an unachievable feat, and yet, here he is. Why would the man risk attacking Peter, when Iron Man was right there around the corner? When the Avengers are around the corner? He's desperate, that's what. And Peter thinks he can figure out what someone like him was desperate for: tech for his work.

It makes sense to him. If Peter created something like that, he would be itching to make it better with Stark Tech, not some junkyard parts he'd been using.

But why not just ask? Why fling Peter into another universe? If he had shown up at Tony's door and was willing to show off what he made, Tony would have hired him, or at least helped fund him after a thorough background check.

Well… The man has anger issues. That could be why he didn't do that.

He had been so… angry, so volatile, when Peter backed away from him. It was like a switch went off in his head. Peter couldn't let him hurt someone else who was on the street around them, but without his mask on to protect his identity? He panicked, and that allowed the man to grab him.

He's unstable, and he probably knows that. Tony would never work with someone that could do something like that, that's why he recently fired someone else. Tony already went through dealing with the fact that his tech had been used to hurt people, and since then he's been much more hands-on about choosing who gets access to it.

This guy, he grabbed Peter and started attacking him, but for the most part he was trying to cling on, not let Peter out of his grip… He was trying to bring Peter here. But why? Why did he have to bring Peter to this reality? That part doesn't make sense to him. He had a spacial jump, so why not just bring Peter somewhere else? Was he trying to prove that his tech works, using Peter, so Tony would have to listen to him?

He feels like trying to understand this man's motivations is only going to hurt his head, and he's way too overwhelmed for thinking right now.

"You need some sleep before using that big brain of yours. Preferably a normal amount, but I won't snitch."

Tony says that all the time, even though the man never takes his own advice. Peter thinks it's a little hypocritical because of that, but it's not like he can win that argument. Tony is probably up right now-

Peter feels like he's just taken a shot to the heart. Tony and Pepper are probably so worried right now.

He can't imagine what it must be like for them. He's feeling lost right now, but at least he has more information about what happened. If they don't know what had happened, it probably looks so bad right now. They might think Peter is dead. Or lost in their world, somewhere where he can't reach them. Or- Or…

Or a lot of things. They have nothing to go on. Tony hates that.

… Tony had been scared.

Peter had never seen him that terrified before, not even when he had rescued Peter from that lab. When he missed Peter's hand and only grabbed ash, he thought he saw a heartbreak in Tony's face.

Oh, god, Tony's heart.

What if something goes wrong? The arc reactor- that stable humming that Peter clings to at night to make sure Tony is alive down the hall- what if Tony freaks out so bad that it can't help him? What if Peter gets back only to find out that the stress killed him? It would be all his fault.

Again.

Just like Aunt May, you remember. You killed her, it was your fault.

"I didn't know she was sick." Peter hisses at himself, pushing the notebook out of reach. The papers flutter and crinkle where he threw it, the pen skittering towards the crack in the wood around him.

There's that evil voice in his head again, telling Peter his worst fears, as if he wasn't aware of it all on his own. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax, just like his therapist said to. In for four, hold for four…

"I didn't know she was sick. Her heart would have gave out at some point. It wasn't my fault. I was just a kid." Peter tells himself aloud, listening to the dark around him.

He sat in the dark like this the day that Aunt May died.

Peter had been so excited for that day. Ben was away but was trying to get there that night. May brought him to the fair, the two of them having more snacks than Peter thought they could afford, going on rides together, running around under the sun. May had been having a hard week, so seeing her smile and laugh made Peter only want to make it happen more. He kept trying to be silly, feeling like a flower reaching towards the sky when she smiled at him.

Everything had been so perfect, so nice. Until he had accidentally let go of May's hand when they passed by the parade.

He was distracted by the balloons in the sky, and then someone bumped his shoulder and the crowd swept him up. Peter got scared and he ducked into an alley, stayed there in sight of the sidewalk but out of reach. He pressed himself up against the wall and put his head in his knees, waiting. Because Aunt May always told him that if he gets lost, he needs to stay in one spot, and she'd come find him.

But it kept getting darker, and the parade ended. It wasn't until the cold set in and he was shivering that Peter knew something was wrong. But still, he sat there for hours just like he was told to do.

He didn't know she died until Uncle Ben found him, after hours of the police and a search party looking for him. She collapsed in the street before she could tell anyone she lost him, and Uncle Ben was at a fireman's recruiting event, so he didn't get the call until he was back in an area with cell service. Uncle Ben had been the one to find him.

He was just around the corner from where she died.

"It wasn't my fault. The stress didn't kill her." Peter murmurs, staring at his shoes and hugging his knees tight to his chest. He feels small again. Waiting for someone to come get him, but knowing that this time he shouldn't wait.

"Tony won't have a heart attack." Peter assures himself. "It's just me."

Right. It's just Peter that was lost. He isn't Tony's real son, he's just a student. Sure, the man cares about Peter, and Peter trusts him more than anything. He knows that Tony will come looking for him. But surely, his heart wouldn't give out for a student.

"That's right. Everything will be okay. Tony will know what to do."

Tony thinks he might be dying. He isn't sure.

He isn't a superstitious man. He doesn't believe in heaven, not anymore. He was always iffy about it when he was a kid, too. He doesn't believe in good luck or bad- he just believes the world is what it is. He always tells Peter that "Parker Luck" isn't real, that he isn't cursed, and that bad things happen but it's important to move on from that.

Hell, he would tell other people too, even the religious ones, what he thinks. He didn't care if someone thought he was abnormal, or sacrilegious, or whatever word-of-the-day they could pin on him. Life is easier when he isn't battling to understand the whims of made up gods or concepts.

But when he watched Peter at breakfast that morning, he thought he felt something wrong, like a gut feeling.

He had felt it before. He would excuse it because he knew what a "gut feeling" really was: his mind collecting information and knowing that he was close to a realization that he wasn't paying attention to. When he met Peter, all of the signs were there, laid out in front of him, and Peter was a puzzle that he figured out.

The kid was obviously from a bad neighborhood, pretty poor. He talked about a mother that he lived with that wasn't around often. He and the others were investigating Queens at the time for a string of missing kid cases that were causing alarm. And if the kids did turn up, they were dead before they reached the hospital. When Steve and Bucky first met Peter, he was another face among those kids that were potential targets, and then he turned out to be a brilliant little shit. Annoyingly so.

It was good information, coming from Peter who knew Queens well. They asked about his friends, and Peter even mentioned kids going missing that they hadn't gotten reports on. But what started as a way to get information (and he says this loosely, because he knew damn well that Peter was going to get into a good school and still be around to learn from Bruce and Tony either way), ended up with Tony getting attached.

Tony tried not to admit it, but Peter was an infectious thing. He was fascinating to figure out, but Tony grew fond of his rambling and his energy.

Peter is a bad liar. Tony knew for a long time that Peter was probably more alone than he let on, if his mother was even real. Tony had that gut feeling and he knew it was his mind connecting dots about Peter's life. The signs that he was abused at some point in his life or recently, signs that he wasn't being taken care of.

Tony knew when Peter was kidnapped. But he didn't believe in that sort of thing. Not until he was struck by it again.

That feeling, it had lingered when Pepper kissed Peter's hair before she left for work. It stuck around when Tony ruffled his hair, a promise to meet him at the lab after school. It stayed when he watched Peter walk away, a sleepy smile on his face.

And Tony, he stood there for a few minutes, staring at the elevator where Peter had left, something sinking in. That feeling that Tony had before, that had led to the worst few days of Tony's life where he searched for Peter and begged that he'd be okay.

Something was wrong. Again.

It almost feels like how Peter tells Tony his spider-sense works. Something nagging at him that he needs to be careful, whispering in his ear that he needs to watch out. But for what?

What could be wrong?

What was he missing?

What dots hadn't connected yet?

Tony never knew what parents meant, when they told people that they could feel when something was wrong with their kid. His father wasn't like that in any sense of the word, and Tony thought it was just something that parents told themselves in order to feel better.

But FRIDAY confirmed it.

"Boss, Parker's phone just signaled an SOS alert."

Time felt slow. He was moving too slow. Or maybe the enemy was moving too fast.

Tony was out the door in seconds- he's reviewed the footage for hours, unable to look away from the screens and see an empty space next to him where Peter is supposed to be. Peter and this villain were gone in less than a minute from the start of their interaction.

A minute. That's all it took, and Tony would laugh if the stress wasn't slowly killing him. Time had worked against him.

He asked himself if he could have been faster. He asked himself if one minute was too slow, and the answer is yes. It's his fault.

Tony saw his kid turning into dust in the air, and heard the crack in his voice, knew that he was in pain and there was nothing Tony could do to stop it. The kid's voice keeps replaying in his mind. Every time he blinked, Peter's face was there, his hand gone before Tony could grab him.

When Tony took Peter in, he swore that the kid would not be hurt the way he was before. There was no way he could stop Peter from being Spider-Man, not unless he locked the kid away in a high security facility, and that was no way for Peter to live. But Tony could train him, could teach him, the way he should have been taught. Peter wouldn't have to worry about being anything but the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but he could be trained to deal with anything that comes his way.

The kid had done everything right, just like he was taught. He refused to talk to the man that approached him, and when he started attacking, Peter fought. Tony could see a technique that Natasha had burned into Peter's mind to get out of someone's hold. He saw Peter throw a punch the way Bucky taught him to. He wasn't going down easy, and Tony can't be more proud of him for that. They struggled and Peter managed to get a good few hits in.

The problem is that the man that attacked Peter has to also be enhanced. No one else would have lasted against a hit that hard from Peter, and no one else would have managed to get past Peter's reflexes and be able to grab him.

Peter had done everything right. It was Tony that messed up.

He couldn't reach them in time. He hadn't grabbed Peter in time, because Peter disappeared in mere seconds, and he has to keep telling himself that. Less than a minute, that was how long it took for Peter to go from standing outside the Tower to falling through the sky above the harbor.

But Tony just wasn't fast enough. That was the problem. It is his fault, and he can't forgive himself for this. How can he, when he had that feeling before Peter even left? He knew that something was wrong. Why did he ever let Peter walk out that door? He broke the promises that he made to himself and the promise he made to Peter, to always be there for him.

"You need to eat something, tin man." Natasha slaps a plate down on the table next to him. Tony pushes it away, the plate sliding down the table and landing at the edge, almost tipping over.

"Get out of my face." He states too harshly, and inwardly he feels like a dickhead for that, but that's nothing new.

"You going to yell at me like you did with everyone else?"

"I said get out!" Tony stands from the table, the stool clanging against the tile. Natasha catches it in a smooth motion before it can clatter to the floor, putting it back upright with an ease that manages to piss Tony off just the same.

"I assume that's a yes."

"Have you found him?" Tony rounds on her- because God, if she's going to stick around to annoy him, she had better deal with his anger. Natasha's cool gaze sends spikes through his nerves, the anger flickering. She's figuring him out with just a single glance, and he hates that. She sighs after a moment, setting the stool down on the ground. "Have any of you found him? Anything?"

"No."

"Then I don't want to hear it." Tony waves her away, and before she can protest, he feels the anger swell. "I don't want to hear it! I don't want to hear anything, if it isn't that my son isn't dead!"

"You won't chase me out," Natasha warns, taking Tony's previous seat. She relaxes against the counter, tapping her finger idly. "And you know, if you shout like that, your heart is going to give out again."

"To hell with my heart, it doesn't matter."

"Peter wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

Tony fumes silently, pacing along the floor like a caged animal. He feels like a caged animal. He's been cooped up in this room waiting for something, anything, and he keeps lashing out at anyone who dares to enter the room. Icicle Man had something thrown at him, Tony doesn't remember. He keeps looking out the window, the damn spot where Peter had disappeared mocking him as he looks out at it.

He knows she's right, of course. They're all right, that's what's so frustrating. He had nearly fallen out of the sky when Peter was gone, his heart sputtering, that fluttering and dangerous feeling before growing tight like a vice in his chest. Peter had admitted once that the steady thrum of the arc reactor eased some of his worry. He could hear it, that constant humming that told Peter that if something happened, it would keep him safe.

It had worked that time, but Tony had come a little too close to persistent problems over these two days.

Two days, where nothing is found. Not a trace of Peter other than the kid's phone on a rooftop. But what would they have found? A body?

No, he refuses to go there. He is not allowed to grieve, because that is ridiculous. Peter isn't dead. He can't be- he won't be dead. Tony would know. He isn't a superstitious man, but he thinks he understands now what it means when parents say, "I know when something is wrong."

He would know. If Peter had died, he would know.

But then, pray tell, where the fuck is his kid? He's not in the the sea, he's not in the sky. He's not in the streets of New York, and no one has heard of anything outside of the area. Peter would have called by now, he's such a good kid, despite also being a little shit that eats all of his food and has the mentality of a deaf puppy that is dead set on learning how to swim without help. He would have called Tony immediately, and if that didn't work, he would call Pepper, Rhodey, or Happy.

Their phones didn't ring, and if they did, Peter was not on the other line.

"I know," He finally says, biting down the mean, nasty things he wants to say. Because he knows they're looking, and he can't blame them. It's his own damn fault he can't be out searching. His heart is too unstable for Tony to take risks, and Pepper begged him to get rest.

"You need to eat something, and you need to sleep. Pacing this room is only going to drive you crazy." Natasha reminds him, grabbing the plate and setting it in Tony's view again. It's a cheap microwave pasta, as if she knows Tony can't stomach to eat anything good until Peter is safe.

"Well, that's just it. I already feel crazy, Nat." Tony runs a hand through his hair. The hand that had gripped onto air and ash. "I feel like- Like a part of me is just missing. Gone. I just-" Tony takes a moment to breathe, to remind himself that Peter is probably fine. Probably. "I lost the kid."

"We'll get him back." She promises. Natasha doesn't promise easily.

Tony can see it, in the corner of his eye. The red underneath the light, the one part of the room he can't bear to look at. Natasha can, however. She leans her head on her hands to stare at it.

"Did he know?"

Tony's voice feels choked. "It was gonna be a surprise."

A surprise. Peter was going to get it today. A new suit, one that Tony swore would keep him safe.

Peter had designed it a long time ago, and Tony kept everything that he could, only adding what was necessary. It wasn't the suit he wanted to give Peter, the Iron Spider, which he was sure would keep him safe. But this one was that beginning, that small branch into the topic.

It doesn't feel right, without Peter here to see it.

"He'll love it." Natasha tells him. "Because you made it for him. When he gets back, maybe don't show him this for a while. He'll ignore everything we say and beg to test it out immediately and give us all some more heart attacks."

Future tense. She still thinks they'll find him.

Maybe Nat has enough history with crazy to understand him right now. She doesn't even bend under his anger, under his worry and his fear. Maybe she only does it for Peter, as they had never been close like that before. Or because Pepper couldn't be here while they deal with the legal trouble (of Peter going missing, his kid is gone), and the two of them get along.

Tony thinks he might be dying. But he isn't sure.

His emergency funds (a whopping $400, hidden inside of a clip that looks like a sheet of paper) has come in handy a few times since Peter got here.

It's been four days since the unplanned dimensional travel. Peter is choosing to believe that this is a good thing, somehow, and that he isn't feeling sick about it or like he wants to tear his hair out and start biting his nails.

Gotham is an unusual place, different from Queens in most ways. But at its heart, a city is a city, and Peter knows the ins and outs better than most people do. Gotham sleeps during the day, and is much more active at night, depending on the district. Because of this, he uses the daytime to roam around (avoiding suspicious adults, which are most of them, if not all) and get a lay of the land. There's less crowding in the night districts during this time, and that is where he suspects the man that attacked him might be hanging around, if he's still here.

Daytime is reserved for mapping the streets into his memory, finding hidey holes and shortcuts, getting a sense for the dynamics between those in the daylight and those that wake when the sun goes down. When night falls, Peter is much more like Spider-Man, if not quite him yet. Scratch that- he might be more "Parker" than he is Spider-Man.

Parker knew the streets of Queens like he knew the back of his hand. Nothing could slip past him, he had friends in a lot of places. Parker is the same now, listening and weeding his way into becoming a face people know. He needs to know Gotham and the way she breathes the way he knew Queens. He waits for his spider-sense to act up while getting information about the people and the city.

Because if Peter can become a trusted face like before, Peter will get more information out of people than he would by just eavesdropping. And maybe, someone will be able to tell him what his spider-sense might not find: the hole that the man who dragged him here could be hiding in.

But so far, four days of nothing. It's just him wandering around day and night, logging his suspicions, theories, etc into his notebook, and figuring out Gotham itself.

He had to get new clothes, so that was a good $50 down the drain at a cheap clothing store. He got a jacket, new underwear, and another pair of pants. He washes everything not currently on him at the laundry mat a block away from his water silo, which has become his temporary base. He figures if he does see Nightwing again, the guy won't get on his case as much if Peter doesn't look like he only has one outfit.

And it's starting to feel like when he sees Nightwing again, not if, because Peter has seen glimpses of the other vigilantes these last few days. As it turns out, he's not the only one that roams Gotham at night.

Signal is the daytime vigilante, appearing in the street more often than the others. He's pretty cool, from what Peter can tell. And, a meta, which was surprising. At least, he thinks Signal is a meta. Peter had only gotten to see the tail end of a fight, but there was flashes of gold light that didn't come from the people that Signal was saving. Peter can't tell if that's a good thing or not- would Batman trust Spider-Man, like he apparently trusts Signal? He decided to leave that question for now, because maybe Signal just got special permission or something.

And last night, he had seen Spoiler and Red Robin. He saw the flash of Spoiler's suit hopping over the alley he was in, and later in the night he saw Red Robin swinging towards a burning building. Peter wonders if he's supposed to be seeing them…

Because he knows he isn't supposed to be seeing Batman.

Gotham has a lot to say about their hero. And Peter has been listening intently. The vigilante lurks in the shadows of Gotham, waiting to strike at a moment's notice. And he's good at it, Peter has been paying attention to the rumors that fly around. What Gotham lacks for online information, it makes up for in the talk of the streets. Batman is the lurker, the Dark Knight that owns the shadows. It's his thing, which Peter can appreciate. Spider-Man also blends in to the night, creeping around until it's time to strike. Peter almost feels bad about ruining whatever this guy is trying to do. Because the problem is, the guy never really stood a chance against his spider-senses.

Half the time, Peter forgets he isn't supposed to know someone is there and tracking him. No matter if it's the dead of night, in a poorly lit area, or not. Peter looks up, and then has to pretend he was just looking around in general. He can always hear the small moment where Batman wonders if Peter saw him, where his heart stutters, or the man goes eerily still, barely even breathing.

Which is probably creepy of Peter. (He gets that a lot- that he's kinda creepy. He sometimes makes sure to be extra spidery around Sam and Rhodey, because they always make a comment. It amuses him to hear "That can't be natural.") But if he's being stalked- and he suspects he is- then he thinks it's only fair that he lets himself scare the big bad Batman.

Peter hides in the city. It's easy for him to slip away, to sink into shadows, and not be heard. He just has the advantage over them, being able to hear, smell, and see where they are. He loses Batman more than a few times, sometimes leading the man towards muggings or street fights just to get the man to focus on that instead of Peter. He does the same to Red Robin, who follows Peter as well. The two of them seem to be taking shifts, but last night, they were both on his case.

He's being stalked.

But the question is: why?

They can't suspect that he's Spider-Man, because he hasn't even shown up yet! Why stalk regular, ordinary Peter Parker? It's not like they do it during the daytime, either, it's almost always at evening and night, when they're supposed to be out patrolling for danger and shit like that. They shouldn't suspect him of anything besides it being weird that Peter walks around at night.

Unless this is about those bruises. Is it seriously because of that one interaction with Nightwing, though? Peter struggles to think that they'd care about one kid in a city this bad- there are hundreds, if not thousands, of kids just like Peter, or worse off than him. They should be focusing on that, it's not like Peter is in current danger. So, are they good guys, or do they think Peter is up to something?

He wants to trust them, if he's being honest. But he has never willingly trusted any adults until Tony nearly killed himself proving his worth to Peter. Even now, with therapy, he skirts around authority figures and hides details- stores away anything they could use as fuel against him, like he used to store away his food. Tony and Pepper are patient with him (or as patient as Tony can be), and his mentors try their best too, but… Those are adults that Peter knows and works with. Again, Peter doesn't know these adults. How can he trust them without knowing them like he knows the Avengers?

At least next time he sees one of them, he'll be free of the bruises on his neck. They were done healing when he woke up on day two. If that is the case, then they'll likely leave him alone if he asserts that he's fine, and he's not in danger. If they keep coming around, they're either annoyingly going to try and keep helping him, which will prove that Peter could likely trust them, or it's because they think Peter is trouble, or could lead them to it.

Peter bites into his burger and tries not to frown. (The food here is delicious, and he wouldn't want the owner to think he's dissatisfied.)

He's at the burger joint he's taken up as his new spot- he found it day one and he got hooked almost instantly. The burgers remind him of Tony, and that's what he needs right now. He uses it to get into the mindset of his mentor, tries to think like Tony would (even if he's not supposed to). If he just knew why the Bats were stalking him, he could try to assuage their fears or suspicions. He could figure out what they want, and in turn, figure out what he wants from them.

He shakes his head clear of the thought for now. He should focus instead on his comms. He's been wanting to fix it in case Tony or someone else ends up here like him. Though, their comm might end up broken too, and that would defeat the purpose of fixing it. But if it's Tony that comes, the comm would be a good idea.

The comm in question doesn't look broken. Peter fiddles with it in between burger bites, detaching the bottom compartment to get a look at the wires inside. Nothing is out of place or wonky, so he has to assume that it was the jump between dimensions that caused the issue. Which means it isn't likely that he'll get them working again…

Maybe instead, Peter should just make it again? He could change it out and replicate it almost exactly using the same parts, like it would be brand new. He could keep it on the same frequency or search through them, and if Tony ends up here, he would likely do the same.

…!see it hear that see it?…

Peter lifts his gaze and squints towards the door. From the back of the restaurant, he can barely see the door, but he can hear the bell ring as it opens and the shifting of feet. Someone with shoes that are falling apart based on the squeaking, and another with a more expensive sneaker that might be brand new- probably stolen, based on the fact that Peter saw a shoe store got robbed yesterday in this area. And a smell hits his nose, all too familiar to him. Gunpowder from an already fired gun. There's the clinking of bullets inside the case.

Ah, shit.

The owner moves inside the kitchen, unaware to the bell. The man has a bad ear from his age, and he's going blind in one eye. Peter had grown attached to this place quickly, and thus grown attached to the grumpy old man. He just grunts when Peter orders food, but he gives extra fries when he thinks Peter won't notice. It's perfect. Everyone knows that cheery people don't make good food unless they're grandparents.

He knows this place isn't on the best terms money-wise right now. Every time he comes, he's the only customer, and Peter doesn't see many people inside when he passes by during the day.

Peter is just Peter right now… but he can't let that stop him from helping someone.

He shifts out of the booth (begging for his burger to still be fine when he comes back), and chooses to stay low as his ears perk to listen. Their whispers hiss back and forth- two people. Easy work.

"Just grab the money now."

"He needs to open the register, idiot!"

Peter raises a brow. One of them is new to this, or is just dumb.

He sneaks along the side of the counter, peeking around the corner. The two men contrast each other. One is lanky with a big puffer jacket, the other is short, a little stubby, and thin clothes. The shorter one has the new sneakers, the other with a pair that are duct taped. Both are jumpy; Peter can hear the erratic shots of their hearts. Lanky guy's eyes dart around from the register to the door, eager to get it over with.

Peter narrows his eyes, smelling the gun and spotting the lump inside a jacket pocket, where their hands are. They'll just raise their hand and wave the gun around inside the jacket, scare the man into opening the register.

They might be out of their depth here. The owner might have the disadvantage of being old, but the dude has definitely seen the brunt of it in his life time. He has scars on his knuckles from repeated fighting, and a tattoo on his forearm of a double barrel shotgun. Peter can even smell the guns the owner keeps for protection underneath that very register.

But still, this is his job.

Peter hops over the counter when they turn towards the kitchen window and try to spot the owner. He crawls up to the register just out of their peripherals, then pops up behind it, calling out in a semi-cheery voice. "Welcome to Benny's, can I take your order?"

Both of the men jump, spinning back to face Peter with wide eyes. "When did you-"

"I've been here."

"No you weren't!" The lanky man protests, eyes darting between Peter and the register. His pupils are blown out wide, swallowing a lump in his throat. He's scared- he's new to this, somehow. Probably not from Gotham. His accent doesn't sound like it. "Kid, you're like, 12 years old, we know you don't work here."

"Sir, I'm supposed to clock out in fifteen minutes. If you could please just let me take your order, that would be great." Peter leans against the register with a sigh. "Overtime, am I right?"

"What?"

Shoot. He thought he sounded older. Whatever.

The other man lifts his hand, pressing the barrel of the gun against Peter's forehead through the jacket fabric, letting Peter know there's really a gun, though Peter already knows that. "I don't want to hurt you, kid. Give us the money in the register and we walk out, no harm done."

"I don't have the money." Peter replies, looking past the gunman and at his friend.

The gunman scowls. "Open the register."

"I don't work here. Who told you I work here? I'm a kid."

Anger flashes across his face, and he raises the gun. Peter catches his wrist as the hand swings down to hit him. He slams his arm down against the counter, the man dropping the gun as his wrist gives out a crack! Peter slips the gun out of the man's jacket pocket as the other man raises his own gun at Peter.

"Stop!" Lanky shouts at him, his hands trembling.

Peter holds his hands up in 'surrender', observing the man carefully. smell it, see it? hear it, not there! His spider senses whisper to him. New, it says, agreeing with Peter. His voice shakes too much to sound threatening. And besides… Peter can smell the difference between these two guns.

"I'll- I'll shoot you if you don't drop that." He gestures to the other gun in Peter's hand. The man with the broken wrist groans, hissing under his breath as he backs away from the counter.

"Damn kid broke my fucking wrist!"

You kinda deserved it.

"Then shoot me."

A heavy silence follows, sitting in the air like a gunshot. The gunman's breath shakes, licking his lips nervously as he brandishes the gun at Peter. "I'm being serious!"

"Shoot me." Peter repeats. "…Unless you can't."

"I-I…" Lanky glances at his friend, boss, whatever the other is to him. "I-"

"Don't have any bullets? At least one of you cares about gun safety." Peter lowers his hands, clicking on the safety for the gun he's holding. Broken Wrist looks up at his friend to see what he's gonna do- some punk kid is acting like he's the boss here, so why wouldn't his friend shoot Peter? Asshole.

Well, because Peter's right, of course. There's not a single bullet in this guy's gun.

"What are you waiting for?" Broken Wrist demands. Lanky's arm lowers, his face growing paler as he gawks at Peter. "Shoot him, idiot!"

"I-I can't." Lanky admits. "I-"

Broken Wrist snatches the gun out of Lanky's hand. With his non-dominant hand, he points at Peter and shoots.

Nothing happens, save for the click of the trigger. Peter has half a mind to flinch anyway, if only for the bad memory of the first time a gun was pointed at him. The man tries to shoot again, only for nothing to happen once more.

"Get out of here, and don't come back." Peter raises the gun he got off Broken Wrist- trying not to hurl upon using it, but he's not intimidating otherwise. "Get out!"

It takes Peter's second shout for the men to get the hint. They scramble backwards out of the door, the bell clanging as it opens and shuts. Peter sets the gun on the counter, pushing it away from himself with a nausea overwhelming him. The safety was on, but they hadn't even noticed. Gotham seriously has a problem with idiot criminals.

His only regret is that he can't call the police. This close to Crime Alley, the cops are running corrupt… Which isn't all that different to how cops usually are. And he can't give a statement, because he doesn't exist.

"What the hell was that."

Peter jumps, turning to face Benny. The old man had hobbled in on his bad leg, leaning against the door from the kitchen and staring at Peter as if he'd grown two heads. Actually no, he looks more pissed off than he does surprised. But it's definitely there, the shock. Peter knows the face well. He ducks down to look away from Benny, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Um…"

"You broke his wrist?"

"Self defense classes…" Peter mutters. He knows he doesn't look that strong, and everyone always thinks he's younger than he is.

"Are you stupid?" Benny hobbles closer, taking the gun away from Peter's reach. He pulls out a box from underneath the counter, dropping the gun inside with a dozen other guns, all apparently confiscated. "I could have handled them."

"But you didn't have to." Peter retorts, looking the older man in the eye. "If I can help and I didn't, then it would have been my fault if you had gotten hurt."

Benny falls silent, and Peter wishes not for the first time that one of his powers was mind reading. The old man taps his fingers on the counter, eyes narrowed at Peter in intense thought. Is he mad at Peter? It would have sucked if he had to clean up if Peter got shot. But it doesn't feel like anger, even if his face looks it.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, but that attitude in Gotham is gonna get you killed, Moron." Benny finally tells him. Peter doesn't doubt that. But he's also not just a scrawny kid. "You can't do that again."

"I'm definitely gonna do it again." Peter says honestly, without thinking.

Benny grunts impatiently, shaking his head and running a hand over his face. "…Now you have me feeling bad."

"What? Why?" That was most certainly not his intention here. He didn't expect a thanks or anything, because Peter never does. But he also didn't expect him to be feeling bad.

"I'm worrying about you now, do you see how that's a problem?"

"No, not- Not really? Kind of, I guess?" Peter squints. He feels like he had this exact conversation before. Who was that with? Wasn't it-

Biggie! It was Biggie, the owner of Dugout.

That was a while ago, when Peter was first on the streets. After letting his missing person's case cool down, Peter started up a 'fixing things' business. He would go around a lot of stores and homes and ask about fixing anything for them. Eventually he got to the point where people knew how to find him and get him somewhere where there was something needing fixing- a fridge, a door, whatever. He had a good reputation.

Biggie had been a customer of his, he owned a place called 'The Dugout.' On his first job, he was fixing a TV that had fallen off of the wall when a customer started getting violent and belligerent. Peter basically tricked the guy into walking outside the restaurant and locking him out. After that, Biggie started calling him around more, after telling Peter, "Now I'm worried about you. You have no self preservation instincts or something." Biggie would make things up for Peter to fix, and then feed Peter on top of paying him for helping out.

Wait, Biggie kind of… looks like Benny. Or does Benny look like Biggie? Except, Biggie wasn't as old- he's not young, but Benny is up there in age.

"There's a room upstairs you can take." Benny's words snap Peter out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" Peter shakes his head, taking a step back. "Wait- I don't-"

"Don't try that whole 'I'm not homeless' thing on me, New York. It's not an uncommon problem here in Gotham, and no one is gonna judge you for it. So I'm cutting to the chase." Benny points at Peter, and he gulps nervously. "As long as you don't bring in drugs, and you try to keep trouble from the apartment, then you can stay upstairs. There's a room up there that I let people stay in."

…good!…

Peter relaxes his shoulders somewhat. Nothing is coming up as a threat to him, so he thinks Benny is being truthful. At least, he has good intentions.

And wow. It isn't until Peter thought of getting a real bed that he realizes how little he wants to sleep on a rooftop again. Maybe he had gotten complacent while living with Tony, but having a room to sleep in really changes a perspective.

"If- If you're sure-"

"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't." Benny grunts back shortly. "Go sit down, I'll show you the room later."

"Yes sir!" He salutes (because Benny feels like a man he should be saluting to. Isn't that what people do for veterans? Benny has a medal on the wall that looks like he might be a veteran.) and Benny closes his eyes as if begging for patience.

Peter is halfway through turning around to get out of Benny's sight when he hears a gruff:

"And thanks."

He stops mid step, foot hanging in the air, and looks at Benny. Really studies him, because Peter hadn't done much of that yet. He has his hands on his hips, trying to look all tough, and again, Peter is struck by the similarity between Benny and Biggie. Tough guys who are actually really good people, always looking out for others. He grins up at the old man, who raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Don't mention it."

Peter hears another sigh as he hops over the counter and makes his way back to his burger. He has a comm to remake, a frequency to settle on, and plans to work out. He also has to figure out what he's going to do about those Bats that keep following him around…