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Noah screwed his eyes shut tightly, squinting against the harsh light in the room. He groaned, covering his eyes with his hands, and rolled onto his back.
“Mmph,” he grunted, stretching out his sore back, “wh’ t’me s’t?”
“It’s about ten thirty,” a kind-sounding woman answered, “you slept in pretty late. How are you feelin, kiddo?”
Noah opened his eyes, frowning up at the ceiling. That didn’t sound like his mom… “Um.. like crap I guess.”
His eyes shot open. Holy cow, what was with his voice? Why was his voice so off? Why was it higher-pitched than normal?
The woman laughed, and Noah turned in her direction. He stared at her for a moment, frowning at her unfamiliar blond hair, kind blue eyes, and casual business suit. “Yeah, Tony said you’d feel bad.”
’Who the heck is Tony?’
He awkwardly laughed. “Yeah, well I’m definitely feeling it.”
She smiled. “Want me to go get him? It’s about time for your PT anyways.”
“Uh- sure?”
“Perfect. You sit tight, okay? I’ll be back soon. The doctor should be here soon too.”
“Okay.”
As soon as the woman left, Noah frantically began searching around the room, climbing off the bed. He was significantly shorter than usual, and as such, he constantly stumbled over his own legs, the limbs being much shorter than he was used to them being. He found a white board on the other side of the room, which he read from about fifteen feet away, given that he was attached to an IV bag and couldn’t really move all that far away. He frowned at the information on the board- Peter Parker, 15, moderate-severe bodily contusions, moderate concussion, fractured left femur.
His mind spun as he tried to make sense of the situation. If he had a concussion, did that mean that he’d somehow mixed up his identity? He couldn’t remember all that much about his life, sure, but he remembered a decent bit- he remembered his parents and his house. His mom was really nice, and she’d look up articles of him online all the time and show them to him. He played video games with his friends all the time. He filmed all sorts of weird stuff that he did and put it on the internet for everyone to see. He lived in California and he liked to pet-sit his neighbor’s dog sometimes because his parents never let him get his own dog.
“Heyy, the Spider-Kid’s finally up!” a middle-aged man with a goatee and an MIT hoodie announced his presence, followed closely behind by a woman dressed in a traditional set of hospital scrubs.
“Hey,” he greeted, trying to keep his smile casual enough to seem normal.
The man smiled at him, ruffling his hair. “FRIDAY’s still down, mind tellin’ me who’s out today?”
What the heck did that mean…? Was he asking for his name? “Peter.”
“Oh, hey Pete. Nice to see ya, bud.”
He smiled. “Yeah, so uh, what’s goin’ on?”
The man chuckled. “Ah, you must have been pretty out of it last night- you were pretty switchy after your panic attack- or, Wilbur’s, I guess. This is Dr. Hobbes, she’s your PT. She’s gonna help you walk again.”
“Oh, okay,” he agreed, not quite knowing what to say. The name Wilbur sounded vaguely familiar to him, like he should have known it from somewhere, but he decided not to focus on it for now.
Dr. Hobbes smiled, a cold, professional-type smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Hi Peter,” she greeted, “mind getting into the wheelchair for me? We’re just gonna go down the hall.”
“Okay,” he agreed, not really having much else he could say. He frowned at his wobbly posture when he tried to stand. The man and the other woman rushed to his aid, helping him settle down into the wheelchair that Dr. Hobbes pushed out for him.
Everything else after that was a little hazy. He thought he could remember little bits and pieces of the therapy session- a couple times when he managed a couple steps, and a few times when he managed to make it across the entire set of bars that were set out for him to navigate across, but apart from that, he wasn’t sure what all went down. It all felt strangely like a dream to him, like he was watching from behind himself.
When he finally came back to himself, he was no longer in the hospital room- he was in someone’s bedroom, laying down on the bed, dressed in a soft pair of flannel pajama pants and a slightly-worn t-shirt. He frowned, sitting up, and grabbed the pair of crutches that sat propped up against the night stand. He slipped them into place under his arms, gripped the handlebars, and started navigating his way around the room.
He opened drawers, discovering every little bit of the mysterious bedroom that he woke up in. He felt weirdly exposed with his face fully uncovered for anyone to come in and just see, so as soon as he saw a pair of sunglasses laying on top of the dresser, he slid them on without hesitation, almost immediately feeling better. He found a cloth face mask soon after and hooked it over his ears, feeling even more secure at the fact that now nobody at this weird compound could know his identity without him wanting them to.
Knowing now that his identity was at least semi-secure, he hobbled out of the room on his crutches, stumbling a bit on the freshly-polished floors, but managing after a few tries. He limped his way blindly through the halls, having to squint to see properly, as the sunglasses on top of the already-dim lighting of the hallway made it difficult to see, but he managed to not bump into anything and make his injuries worse, so he counted it as a win.
At one point, he caught his reflection in a mirror and paused, frowning deeply behind his mask. He looked nothing like how he remembered himself. His hair was curly and blond when he remembered it being straight and almost brown. His hair was overgrown to the point of almost being a mullet if he wasn’t careful to trim it every now and again, whereas this body’s hair, while being slightly overgrown, had nowhere near his amount of length. He didn’t dare lift up his mask or sunglasses, too terrified of what he’d find, but he knew he wouldn’t like what was behind them. His body was too short and stocky- he remembered being tall and lanky.
Everything was just so wrong and Noah hated it.
He stumbled further down the hall, wanting to get the hell away from the mirror before anything else happened. Eventually he found himself in a common area- a living room, too big when compared with the tiny apartment that he was used to, connected to a slightly smaller but still massive kitchen area.
The man from before sat comfortably on the couch, sipping away at a mug of something that Noah couldn’t identify from how far away he was from him. He was making pleasant conversation with the woman he’d seen before in his hospital room, who looked slightly more put-together than she had looked before. Another woman with red hair sat on the chair across from them, one leg crossed over the other as she scrolled through her phone.
A man with blond hair and a stocky build sat at the kitchen island, talking over a bowl of pretzels with a man of similar build with brown hair and a metal arm. There were a few others in the room, but Noah’s head spun too much to comprehend who else was there.
“Eyy, he lives!” goatee man announced joyfully, putting his mug down and getting up so he could come over to him. Noah backed up, flinching away a little when the man moved to hug him.
“Oh, sorry,” he apologized, “is it a no touch day?”
“Um- yeah,” he shook his head, “just- a little-”
“What’s with the getup?” goatee man interrupted him, gesturing vaguely to his face.
He blushed, ducking down. It was awkward, looking up at someone who he would probably normally look down at. “Um-”
“Don’t question teen fashion Tony,” another man with blond hair laughed, perched on the end of the couch [how did Noah manage to not see him before…?], somehow perfectly balanced.
“It’s interesting, Underoos,” Tony chuckled, crossing his arms, “what’s with the change? Hiding from me now?”
“N-no, I just- well, I just, um- I just- I’m- I dunno.”
The others in the room laughed, and Noah blushed, ducking his head down even further. God, why did he come out in the first place? He would have stayed back if he knew he would have just been made fun of the entire time.
“You don’t know?” blond man number one raised his eyebrow, hand propping up his chin.
“I guess,” he shrugged, looking down, “I dunno. Just felt like it.”
“Oy, are you boys done teasing him yet?” the red-haired woman asked, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at them as she crossed her arms. If there wasn’t a significant age gap between them and it wasn’t completely weird, Noah would have kissed her. God, why did he think that? That was so weird. What the heck?
“Whatever you say, Nat,” Tony rolled his eyes playfully, then smirked at Noah, “why don’t you come hang with us on the couch?”
“Um, I- I actually think I’m gonna go back to my room,” he mumbled, pointing haphazardly in the general direction of where he came from, “I- yeah.”
Tony frowned. “But you just got here.”
“And you haven’t eaten in hours,” the strawberry-blond haired woman pointed out, “with your metabolism, you must be hungry by now.”
“Yeah, why don’t you get some food, and then you can go back?” Tony suggested.
Noah flushed even deeper. “That’s okay, I’m not hungry actually,” he said. He was actually a little hungry, but he would never admit that in a million years. God, he was probably being such a problem just by existing here, let alone needing food while he was here. He could survive for a bit longer without food. He didn’t need it, right?
“Nuh uh, spider kids need food,” Tony insisted, leaving no room for argument. Noah stiffened, but nodded, hobbling over to the couch and sitting down as far away as he could from the others. Nat frowned.
“Are you okay?” she asked, eyes narrowing as they zeroed in on him.
He shuddered a bit. It felt like she could see through his skin and into his brain and read his thoughts. “Yeah,” he nodded, “I’m good.”
“You’re acting strangely.”
“Leave him alone, Natasha,” blond number one laughed, “you’re overanalyzing again.”
“Shut up Steve, let me be concerned for my little spiderling,” she bit back, “Peter- or, if you even are Peter- hm… I wonder…” her gaze met his directly even through the sunglasses. Noah swallowed a bundle of nerves that had gathered in his throat. “Peter, why don’t you tell me what we do every week on Saturdays from eleven to three?”
He furrowed his brow, mind coming up completely blank. “Um… study?”
Natasha smirked. “Gotcha. And what’s your name?”
“Oh no,” blond number two groaned, “is this another personality thing?”
“Alter, yes,” Natasha’s smirk deepened, “hello there, new one- or, I assume you’re a new one. Tell me your name.”
“Did you say new one?”
“I believe this one is a new split, yes.”
“Oh Jesus Christ, Pep-”
“Yep, already getting the list.”
“Wait, what’s going on?” blond number one asked, looking around wildly at the scene. Noah could ask the exact same question.
“Our little spiderling has split a new alter,” Natasha answered, settling back in her chair, “and that new alter is this guy right here.”
Noah furrowed his brow. “What, alter like DID? Are you saying I’m a part of a system or something?”
“Oh, you already know what that is?” Tony asked, looking like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, “good that makes my job a lot easier. Yeah, you’re a part of a system. Details come later, but for now, all you need to know is that you’re in the body of someone who’s legally known as Peter Parker, who has an alias known as Spider-Man. Complicated, I know, I’ll explain later.”
“O...kay,” he drawled, sitting back, “and so… I’m a new alter? Cool, I guess? So I guess that just means I exist here now?”
“Yep,” Tony answered, popping the ‘p,’ “don’t worry about your family or anything if you’re worried about that- Wilbur was worried about that and almost his entire family turned up as alters, and the rest existed in the inner world. Yours are probably there too, and if they’re not, they might be there soon.”
Noah breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. So, um… Natasha, is it…?”
“That’s me.”
“How’d you…?”
“Know it wasn’t Peter?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Peter and I have lessons on Saturdays. Only he and I know what those lessons are. You didn’t know, therefore you’re not Peter.”
“Oh. Cool beans I guess.”
“You’re a teenager, aren’t you?” Tony groaned, “why do most of you have to be kids, goddammit?”
“I can always steal some of your age for you,” Noah offered, turning towards the man.
Tony and some of the others barked out a laugh. “I like this one,” Natasha leaned forward, clapping her hand on his shoulder.
“Why don’t you tell us about yourself?” the strawberry blond woman- Pepper? prompted, smiling kindly towards him.
Noah flushed at all the attention suddenly back on him, and he felt his mouth clamp shut again. Memories of his parents warning against stranger danger flashed in his mind, and he quickly shook his head.
“Um- I… I’m kind of a private person,” he stuttered, “I guess… I’m a minor? I can say that much. I like video games.”
“Oh yeah? What games do you like to play?” blond number two asked, having abandoned his perch on the edge of the couch to hang from the ceiling tiles. Noah decided not to question it and answered his question honestly.
“Um, mostly Minecraft, but I play some others too. FNAF, Resident Evil, stuff like that.”
“Ooh, I’ve never heard of some of those,” Pepper said, “you’ll have to tell me and May about them sometime.”
Noah nodded, smiling a little behind his mask. “Alright,” he agreed a little awkwardly, wondering who this ‘May’ person was.
“What else can you tell us about yourself?” Tony asked, prompting him to continue.
“Um…” he trailed off, looking at the floor as his leg jiggled up and down, “I guess I have a lot of friends? I like animals. I like Star Wars. I’m pretty tall, I think I’m… six foot six? Yeah, something like that. I'm definitely taller than all of my friends,” he laughed nervously.
“That’s like… almost Hulk size,” blond number one marveled, “jeez, kid.”
Noah blushed.
“So, you gonna give us a name, or…?” Tony asked, waving his hand in a circular motion in a silent prompt for him to answer.
Noah froze up a little, and Tony seemed to reel back a bit.
“You don’t have to use your real name,” he was quick to soothe his anxieties, “you can use a nickname or some kinda alias. We just need some kind of alias to call you.”
“I… I don’t really know,” he frowned. “I had a name I went by I think… online. Like, in gaming and stuff. I don’t remember… oh-! Oh, oh yeah!”
“Yeah?”
“You guys can call me Ranboo!”
Tony exchanged glances with Pepper, then smiled.
He stuck out a hand.
“Nice to meet you, Ranboo.”
Noah smiled, taking his hand.
“Nice to meet you too, Tony.”