Chapter Text
Prologue
I Need To Stop Waking Up In Alleyways
His head hurt. He knew what headaches were like, a dull throb that pulsed in the back of your head but this wasn't a headache. No this was like somebody had grabbed his head and slammed it into a wall about twenty times. No, make that twenty one.
"Oi, kid." A voice came from above him.
Peter opened his eyes with a groan and looked to see a figure peering over then. He could make out a black overcoat but his eyes were still adjusting to the light. He shielded his face trying to let his eyes register.
"This ain't exactly the best place to be taking a nap, kid." Peter felt the man beginning to shake him and the boy removed his arm.
Once he removed his arm, he now had a clear view of the man. And it was a very clear view. It was like he could see every pore on the man's skin, where the patch of his stubble had been shaved, the hair cut haphazardly as if he was in a rush. He could see a few beads of sweat running down the man’s cheeks. Peter was only left confused as he stared at the man.
“Kid.” The man said again and his voice sounded like it was coming from around him, echoing around the walls. His ears were screaming with the noise, Peter had to cover his ears and take a deep breath. He needed to focus.
“Oh shit. It’s drugs. I’m dealing with a goddamn junkie.” The man muttered.
That snapped Peter out of it and he looked over at the man. Was this man really implying that he was on drugs? Aunt May would absolutely kill him if actually was. She had always drilled it into him, how important it was not to fall into the drug trap. Once you fell into it, it was very hard to get out of it.
“I’m not a junkie.” Peter managed to say, his voice coming out hoarse.
“Well you better have a good damn reason as to why you were passed out in an alleyway in the middle of the night then.” The man said, crossing his arms.
A good reason? Yes he had a perfectly good reason, except he couldn’t remember what that reason was.
Peter found himself focusing on the alleyway, his senses felt like they were dialled up to eleven and he swore he could feel everything in the alleyway but at least he could focus. There was nothing special about the alleyway that he was in. It was pretty typical for New York, there were a couple of tipped over trash cans, the bags spilling out of them. A few pools of sewer water and a few droplets of blood. Droplets of blood? No matter how many stabbings went on in New York, Peter still found it quite rare to see blood on the floor, especially if it was somewhere near where he had been lying.
“Did somebody get hurt?” Peter asked, gesturing to the blood.
The man shot him a puzzled look.
“If anybody here’s hurt, I think it’s you kid.” The man pointed at his own face and Peter copied his movements as Peter felt his own.
His fingers ran over his face and he could feel various cuts, some by his nose and a particularly nasty one on the bridge of his nose. As he removed his fingers, he could make out fresh droplets of blood. Whenever he had gotten the cuts must haven’t been that long, or else his blood would have started to clot by now.
“I don’t remember what happened.” Peter mumbled looking across at the man. Why he was in the alleyway or how he had even got there was a complete blank. He was sure it was very important but that was absolutely nothing coming to his mind.
“Well you’ve been put through the ringer kid. You need me to call someone, Mom? Dad? Aunt?” The man said, shaking his head.
If Peter wasn’t Peter, he would let this man call someone for him. They would come to help him and find out that he was okay, but unfortunately he was Peter Parker and he hated other people worrying about him. Especially his Aunt May. If she knew, she would absolutely freak out and he didn’t want to do that to her. He had seen her freak out before, and he didn’t really want to relive that experience before. It had been when he was about six, and he had gotten into the refrigerator and decided to make himself a sandwich. Making said sandwich had resulted in peanut butter all over the walls and himself. Aunt May had had a nervous breakdown, but he couldn’t really remember much about the rest of it. Although she had never raised her voice at him.
“No. I’m all good!” Peter put on a happy fake voice, trying to trick the man and himself into thinking that everything was all fine and dandy.
“Kid, you really need help.” The man’s voice was stern like he was telling his son off and not talking to some random stranger.
Peter only grimaced, he really needed to get out of this alleyway. He looked down past the man and could see the street was quite close. He took a chance and dashed past the man. The man tried to grab him by the shoulders but Peter was far too quick for him and he went barrelling into the street.
“Hey kid, wait!” The man’s yell faded into the distance as Peter ended up in the road. A taxi beeped at him to get out of the way and he jogged over to the sidewalk. For New York, the street was usually quiet, there were a few people coming out of the subway, their hands shoved into their pockets and their breath rising in a cloud above them. The night air was cold but Peter couldn’t even feel it.
He stood for a moment trying to compose himself. He was pretty proud of himself that he hadn’t started to panic yet. Although he was pretty sure he was due a panic attack soon. He had woken up in an alleyway with no idea of how he had gotten there, and was currently wearing ripped clothes. He looked down at his pants and t-shirt. It looked like a dinosaur had slashed through with three long rips.
Maybe he should call Ned and see if he knew anything that was going on, or at least he could crash at his place before he came up with a suitable lie that his Aunt May would believe. He started to feel around in his pockets for his cell phone, and felt it. Bringing it out of his jean pocket, Peter could only frown. There were several large cracks across the screen and some bits of glass were missing. So whatever had happened to him, meant that his phone had been damaged. He wasn’t worried. No he wasn’t worried at all.
He was hoping that his cell phone would still work though, so he turned on the power button. It took a few seconds before the black screen disappeared and it started to turn off. Maybe he would have some luck after all. He started to find his list of contacts and find Ned’s number as his last caller and he started to dial the number. It rang a couple of times before he heard Ned’s familiar voice on the other end of the line.
“Hello?” He asked, his voice sounded unsure.
“Oh thank god, Ned. You’re not going to believe what’s just happened-,” Peter began to splutter out his words, however he was interrupted by his friend.
“Who is this?”
Peter froze. Was Ned playing a joke on him?
“Ned. It’s Peter.” Peter failed to hide the crack in his voice.
“Peter who? Is this a prank call?”
“Ned. It's Peter Parker. You know your best friend since kindergarten.” Peter said, clutching his cell phone tight to his ear.
“Listen dude, I don’t know anyone called Peter. I think you have the wrong number.” The line then went dead.
“Okay, Peter now might be the best time to start panicking.” Peter said to himself as he put his cell back in his pocket.
There was clearly something going on. First he had woken up in an alleyway, and now his best friend didn’t even know who he was? He needed to get home and hopefully figure out a plan. He would have to get the subway home and hope that Aunt May wasn’t awake or she would absolutely kill him.
He walked back towards the road and saw the nearest subway station and headed towards it. He did give the street a quick glance to make sure he didn’t run into the strange man in the other alleyway. Luckily there was no sign so he headed into the station.
The New York subway was always quiet at this time and tonight was no exception. The tunnel that he had entered was covered in graffiti from floor to ceiling, full of different murals and figures that were important to the city. There was an exceptionally big piece of art on the wall and it was that of New York’s hero Spiderman swinging from a skyscraper. However there was a gigantic x that had been sprayed over it and the words ‘We Believe Mysterio' in red above the figure. Whoever the masked superhero was they had certainly got themselves into a lot of trouble recently. Peter was sure that they had gotten into trouble as much as he did.
He took one last look at the mural and headed deeper into the station, past a pile of cardboard boxes that hid a family of rats that scattered away as he passed them. There were a few homeless people in the tunnel, soft snores coming from them. Peter only looked at them with sad eyes, if he had spare change he would give it to them but he could only walk past them as he headed to the turnstile.
On the platform, he could hear the wind whistling through the tunnel. It was an eerie sound when you were the only one in the station with nothing but dim overhead lights to accompany you. Peter wondered if he should call Ned again to see if his best friend would actually know who he was but he didn’t know if he could through the heartache again. However he was taking the no missed calls from Aunt May as a good sign, it meant that she hadn’t noticed that he was gone.
The train arrived a few minutes later and Peter clambered, choosing a seat that looked a little cleaner than the others and by cleaner, there were less odd food stains so he was less likely to sit into something that was sticky. There were only a few commuters on the train, their noses glued to their phones and so nobody bothered Peter on the way back to his home.
When he arrived, he exited out of the subway station and up towards his Aunt's apartment. When he caught sight of the familiar apartment building, he felt a strange sense in his chest like something was wrong. It felt like his heart was being squeezed out of his chest and wanted to break free and fall down the stairs.
“Okay, Peter. You need to calm yourself down.” He said and walked into the building.
As he headed up the stairs towards the fourth floor, the feeling in his chest only got worse. His head was starting to pulse as he headed took a few steps at a time. Once he reached his Aunt door, he tried to find his key in his pocket but his search was unfruitful. Pushing down a sigh, Peter knocked on his aunt’s door and waited a couple of seconds. When there was no response, he tried the doorknob and found it wouldn’t budge.
“What the hell?” Peter muttered and looked down the hallway to see if he could see if any neighbours were awake.
Seeing no-one he decided to try his neighbour’s door, maybe they would let in until his Aunt woke up. Although he had wanted to avoid a freak out by her, it looked like that wasn’t going to do any good. However it was nothing that he couldn’t deal with. He knocked on the nearest neighbour’s door, hoping that someone would be awake.
It was answered by a young woman in her late twenties, her short pixie hair sticking up in all various directions as if she had just woken up. She gave a long yawn as she stared at Peter.
“Can I help you?” She asked, clearly uninterested in whoever had just knocked on your door.
“Sorry, I know it’s late but erm I live just across the hallway but I think my aunt is sleeping- and I can’t,” Peter began to ramble.
The woman lifted a finger.
“Hang on, you mean that apartment?” The woman pointed to his aunt’s apartment door.
“No-one’s lived there for a couple of months. The woman who lived there moved away I believe. I think a rock was thrown through her window so she had to move. Did you say she was your aunt?”
“A rock? May always lived here. I’ve always lived here. This can’t be happening right now.” Peter tried to contain the panic in his voice, but the woman grimaced as she heard it.
“Well there was a rumour that she moved into this apartment on Long Island.” The woman replied with a shrug.
“Do you know where that apartment is?” Peter asked. Did he have some type of amnesia?
The woman shook her head.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up. One of the apartment buildings was destroyed and there was one casualty, I think they died. I hope it wasn’t your aunt.”
There was a wrongness beginning to appear in Peter’s chest.