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It had been raining all week.
A long, boring, gloomy week that seemed to absolutely crawl by for Peter. Especially since he didn’t get a chance to patrol so far. Not because of the rain, he had promised May to come out to FEAST after school every day to help her with a new project. They had recently renovated one of their back offices and May had enlisted him in moving boxes, mostly when no one else would notice just how much the “normal” 16 year old was actually carrying.
When Friday came along, he was itching to get back out, no matter what the weather was like.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in tonight?” May asked as Peter raced into the apartment after school. He wasn’t allowed to change in public anymore, promising May and Mr. Stark he’d come home to change first unless there was an emergency.
“Yeah!” He shouted as he made his way into his room, throwing his shirt over his head, a rare occasion when he didn't get it stuck. His pants went next, his spider dexterity keeping him from toppling over as he kicked himself out of them.
“Just be safe,” May called out to him. “And come get a sandwich before you go.”
Grabbing the suit from his desk, he pulled it on, pressing down on the spider, letting it conform to fit him better. He grabbed the mask, holding it in his hand as he left the room, heading into the kitchen.
May had a plate with two turkey sandwiches on it, Peter grabbed one, shoving it in his mouth without finesse.
May stared at him. “Peter,” she said and he stopped choking it down to actually chew. He swallowed what was in his mouth, before waking over and kissing her on the cheek.
“Love you, be home by 1:00,” he said cheerily, just as another strike of lightning lit up the kitchen window.
The sight didn’t detour him, he’d been out in the rain before and his webs worked just fine.
“Love you too. Check in with me before 10 and call Tony if you have any problems.”
“Of course,” he said, before taking a manageable bite of the other sandwich and heading back towards his room. Once he was out of sight, he shoved the rest into his mouth and pulled his mask over his head.
His HUD came to life a moment later, Karen greeting him as the suit booted up. “Hello, Peter. I’m glad to see you patrolling today. As a reminder, your curfew is 1:00 am, sharp. It is currently 63 degrees outside and raining, with thunderstorms from now until tomorrow morning. Would you like me to find any crime for you today?”
Climbing up the side of his building, he got to the roof, as big water droplets came raining down on him. The suit’s heaters kicked on a second later, warming his already rapid chilling body up. “Yeah,” Peter said to her, aiming a web out and sailing towards another building. “Let’s go take care of some crime.”
-
Two hours later, the very wet streets of Queens were a little bit safer. Peter stopped a robbery in progress at a small convenience store, stopped two different muggings from happening, and got there just in enough time to stop a car from running through a red light, just by sheer luck of being in the right place at the right time.
It felt good to be back out there, helping people. Stopping at one of his favorite food stands around 9:00, Peter grabbed two hot dogs, two bags of chips, and a large soft drink, heading up to one of his other favorite spots to stop and eat. The building was tall and more important, there was a wide ledge Peter could sit on, that also kept the rain from falling on him via a larger ledge above him.
Rolling his mask up to above his nose, he happily ate his only slightly soggy hot dog. “Can you turn up the heaters?” he asked Karen, looking at his temperature in the corner of his HUD. No doubt Mr. Stark was almost monitoring his temperature, like the helicopter parent he really was.
Warmth flooded him as Karen did so, the suit could go up to a decently high temperature when needed. The rain had started picking up as soon as Peter sat down, the clouds rolling in against the already darkening sky. A storm was coming, maybe one even bigger than before.
“Pull up the weather,” he requested, and a large radar map came up on his screen. He was right, it looked like a bigger storm was heading toward Queens. There were no warnings, but the radar showed a lot of red.
And as if he knew exactly what Peter was looking at, Mr. Stark called.
“Hey kid,” he said as soon as Peter patched him in. It was a video call, the side of his HUD showed Mr. Stark, sitting at his lab table. “Noticed a pretty big storm was rolling your way, wanted to check in.”
“Yeah, I saw it too,” Peter said, shoving the last of his hot dog in his mouth. He was glad Mr. Stark couldn’t see him in return. “I’m out of the rain right now, so I should be fine. I think I’m going to wait it out, still got like 4 hours of patrolling available.”
“Hm,” Mr. Stark said, looking away from the screen, most likely at the same radar Peter was. “You sure you’re safe out there?”
“Yeah, Mr. Stark, I’m not like the wicked witch or anything, I don’t melt in the rain.”
Rolling his eyes, Mr. Stark gave a short laugh. “Yeah, well, famous last words and all. Just be safe out there, kiddo. I don’t need an extra crispy or any drowned spiders.”
“And now you just jinxed me, Mr. Stark!” Peter said with a laugh. “But yeah, I’ll stay safe, I promise. I’ll call you if I need anything.”
“Hmmhmm,” Mr. Stark, with a look that told Peter he didn’t really believe him just yet.
“Night, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth.
“Night, Pete,” he responded before the call ended.
“Keep me aware of the weather, Karen, if there are any warnings or watches that come up. Okay?”
“Certainly, Peter, I will monitor your vitals as well, to warn you if you need to seek shelter and warm up.”
“Excellent,” he said, shoving another handful of chips in his mouth.
-
An hour later, the storm had rolled.
Peter had just returned a purse he found on the street, to a very happy elderly woman, when Karen sent him a message.
“The national weather service has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for our current area until 10:45 pm. The warning suggests large hail, frequent lightning strikes, and dangerous wind gusts. I suggest you find a place to take cover until this storm has passed.”
“Hmph,” Peter mumbled, shooting off a web and heading back up to a rooftop. “I mean, hail isn’t terrible, Karen.”
“I would advise you to listen to Mr. Stark and May, Peter, by not putting yourself in danger.”
“Ugh, I really regret giving you more of a personality, sometimes. I’ll go back up, okay? Find a nice place to sit the storm out.”
Karen didn’t respond, but he could feel the AI’s judgment as his suit heater kicked back up once more and Karen helpfully highlighted a path for him to take that would bring him to an area he could get out of the rain from.
Swinging up towards a rooftop, his spider sense went off just as a massive and strong wind gust came out of nowhere. Peter could hear its hollowing sound, could feel the rush of cold the second it touched his suit. The sound was loud, a little too loud and it immediately sent him into a state of disorientation.
Peter had dealt with wind and weather before, he was usually strong enough to counter any wind gust but was the strongest he’d ever encountered and the most sudden. Maybe if it had been just the gust, he would have been fine, but the added nonstop rain certainly didn’t help the situation.
Trying to correct and not lose control, he shot off another web towards the same building, it did connect but it was too late, the gust had pushed him far enough that he couldn't swing out of the situation. Instead, he went flying off course, barely missing the side of a building but slamming his right side into a billboard.
The pain was immediate, he knew something had gone wrong, his hand uncharacteristically slipped from his web, sending him into a head over heel free fall toward the ground.
Well, not the actual ground, because in a stroke of pure Parker Luck, instead of slamming into concrete, Peter landed in a large overflowing dumpster. The smell was immediate and overwhelming before even making an impact, his senses kicked into super high gear from the danger he’d just faced.
The rain continued to pelt him, as he lay face up, in the dumpster, trying to slow his frantically beat heart and assess the situation at hand. Karen was flashing a million bright red warning signs all across his HUD, adding nothing but noise and stimulation to Peter’s already overloaded brain.
“Turn off warnings,” he said to Karen, the HUD immediately calming down, the warnings off to the side of the screen, leaving his viewing area empty.
He took a deep breath.
Starting with his head, he felt pain on the side, where his face smacked into the billboard. He wanted to pull up his mask and check, but the more pressing matter was getting out of the direct path of all the rain. And to do that, he needed to move out of the dumpster.
Or he thought with a laugh, he could pull down the lid and be safe, but the thought of being trapped with the intense smelling garbage made that decision an overwhelming no.
Sitting up, his back protested, as did his shoulder which stung familiarly. It only took a second to realize it was dislocated. “Uggh,” he said, knowing full well he’d have to put it back in place if he wanted to do anything. He’d never done it himself, the last time it happened, Mr. Stark had arrived and helped him. But he still knew what he had to do.
Taking a deep breath, he held his arm out straight in front, trying to make sure he was lined up correctly. Counting down in his head, when he hit three, he pushed, the immense pain was a sign he was doing it correctly and when the pain stopped, he knew it was back in place.
He shook the shoulder a little bit, doing a few rotations, it was still sore but he was able to get it done. Once he knew his shoulder was secure, he reached into his hidden pocket, pulling out his phone.
Which had an even more cracked screen and to his dismay, didn’t even turn on anymore. May was going to be so mad he destroyed another phone. Pocketing the phone, he sucked in another deep breath.
“Ugh,” he said, clearing his throat, as the taste of the dumpster around him got into his mouth. He gagged, feeling nauseous, but thankfully not adding his vomit to the garbage around him. He tried to bend the knee on his right side but discovered that was an incredibly painful ordeal.
“Karen,” he gasped. “What’s wrong with my knee?”
A second later, a diagram of his body appeared, zooming in on his knee, small words were written next to them, but his vision was blurry, and trying to squint at the words made his head hurt a little more.
“Just tell me,” he said to Karen, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him. The rain was relentless, it felt like more than just water, it felt like waves of ice cubes were being thrown at him.
“You have a patellar fracture in your right knee,” Karen supplied. “That means the front of our kneecap is fractured.”
“Uggh,” he moaned. “Can I walk with a broken plate… planet… whatever?”
“Yes, but you should first secure your knee, Peter any additional movements could cause further damage.”
“Uh, I guess. So uh, did you call Mr. Stark yet?” Peter asked hopefully. He really hoped he was on his way, the rain wasn’t letting up, the wind was still roaring and Peter was laying in the garbage, he knew when he was defeated.
“Our communication system is currently rebooting. When it is up and working again, I will send out a call for help to Mr. Stark. While you were falling, I attempted to send out an SOS but I am unsure if Mr. Stark was alerted.”
“Of course, it’s out. I guess in the meantime I’ll just get out of the dumpster. Don’t want Mr. Stark to find me literally dumpster diving. Embarrassing. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
Less than gracefully, Peter exited the dumpster, his knee, back and shoulder did not enjoy the experience, reminding him once he was on solid ground. “Can I use my webs on my knee?” he asked Karen.
“I would recommend you put something in between your knee and the webs. Try to find fabric to wrap around the top of your knee and then apply your webs. The main goal is to keep the patella from moving while you are walking. I would also recommend you secure your shoulder, as well. Sensors in that right part of your suit aren’t working and I am unsure if you sustained any additional damage to your shoulder.”
“Alright, I guess that’s what I’ll be doing,” Peter said leaning over the dumpster. It only took a few minutes to find a pair of used jeans, full of stains and holes, but they didn’t smell too bad. The building he was next to provided a little shelter from the rain, so he hobbled over, leaning against it.
Once he was somewhat under something, he ripped the jeans, using them to wrap around the knee as Karen directed him. He applied his webs, wrapping them around securely enough that he couldn’t feel the shifting of any bones once he was standing.
“Huh,” Peter said. “Not bad, not bad at all.”
It was then did he notice something else.
His trip from the dumpster to the side of the building made a very distinct trail of watery blood, one that was also pooling underneath him at an alarming rate. He felt very stupid for not having noticed he’d been bleeding for that long.
“Why am I bleeding? Why didn’t you mention this?”
“I was unaware of the injury. As I stated, most sensors in the right part of your suit were damaged in the fall and from the intake of water.”
“I thought the suit was waterproof, I took a swim in a lake before and it was alright.”
“Correct, however, due to the mix of water and impact damage is affecting current systems. I estimate 15 to 20 minutes until reboots are complete and all systems will be back online. However, I recommend getting the suit recalibrated once you are safely inside.”
“Okay, I guess, so uh, let’s just see how this goes.”
Pulling back the fabric of his suit, it revealed a small but deep looking cut right below the back of his knee.
“Okay, well, I mean if I nicked an artery I’d know it, right Karen?”
“Yes Peter, if your femoral artery was nicked you would be unable to move.”
“I guess that’s better than nothing, so uh, what do I do here? Should I just try to wrap it?”
“If the laceration is bleeding, you need to wrap it securely.”
Sighing, Peter grabbed the discarded jeans again, this time wrapping a majority of them around his leg, before securing it with even more webbing.
His shoulder was sore, moving it around didn’t help very much either. With a sigh, he limped back over to the garbage, looking for something else he could fashion into a sling. What he did find was a pile of clothing covered in paint, a shirt he easily ripped into a sling.
He was pretty sure he looked really weird, he knew he was covered in the garbage too, and he could smell food on him, even with the rain. It was still doing him no favors, not even cleaning off the garbage smell from him.
Finally, he was able to go behind the dumpster, where he was sure no one could see him, and pull off his mask. Feeling the right side of his face, he could feel a lump on his cheek and he hissed in pain once he touched it.
His mask was soaking wet, despite being water repellent, the fabric did get a little wet and more importantly, cold.
Making a quick decision, he walked back over to the dumpster and fished out a gross and faded, of all things, Captain America hoodie someone had discarded. Going around as Spider-man, wrapped up and looking gross made him look like an easy target. Putting the hoodie on and pants he saw in there, would obscure the suit and give him another layer of warmth.
But also, he would be wearing a lot more garbage.
“It’s lose, lose isn’t it?” he said, to no one. “Parker luck really strikes again.”
And, as if the world listened to him, an aggressive strike of lightning lit the sky above him. “I do not want to be hit by that, please,” he mumbled. “This would be an excellent time for Thor to show up.”
Once he had on the hoodie and pants, both of which were way too large, he pulled off his mask, shoving it into his hoodie pocket. Pulling up the hoodie, it went over his head, finally keeping the rain off his face.
“Think I can web home?” Peter asked, already knowing the answer.
“I would advise against it with your shoulder and knee situation. Webbing could also cause more problems with your bleeding leg. I suggest you find a place to shelter now, while the heaviest rain is going on. I no longer have contact with the weather radar or the National Weather Service.”
Surveying the area, there wasn’t much shelter where he was and since he couldn’t go up, Peter started walking out of the alleyway. There weren’t a lot of places open, having it almost 11:00 at night, but he was sure he could find somewhere to wait.
Grumbling he made his way down the street, his lower back aching so much, it almost doubled him over. “Any updates?” he asked Karen.
“Systems are still rebooting, Peter. Please continue to make your way to safety.”
“Ugh, easier said than done, Karen. Everyone’s closed up shop for the night.”
It wasn’t long before Peter started shivering, the suit was keeping water out, but not the cold, nor was his face truly covered when the rain was hitting him sideways. Large gusts of wind still tried to veer him off course, as he struggled to keep himself from toppingly over.
Usually, he had much more grace than this, but his body hurt and he smelled like garbage, even his spider powers couldn’t overcome those factors. He was completely miserable, angry at himself for coming out in the storm, despite ample warning from both May and Mr. Stark. Annoyed that he thought himself impervious to weather.
His knee hurt with every step, and looking down at his other leg, he was still bleeding, the jeans now soaked a weird pink color. “Why haven’t I stopped bleeding?”
“Your cut may have nicked a blood vessel or artery. It doesn’t have to be a major artery to sustain blood loss, Peter.”
“Parker Luck,” he moaned. “Do you think I should try using my webs?”
“I would not advise it, however, if you can’t find anything else to wrap it in, you may try. Avoid getting your web fluid directly on the laceration.”
“Cool, thanks,” he said, ducking into another alley. It took a minute, but he eventually got his webbing to tighten against his leg, despite the pain it caused. Giving himself a few minutes to breathe and collect himself, he then took back off onto the street in search of actual help.
A single light ahead in the rain made him smile. There was a gas station at the end of the block, hopefully, he could borrow their phone. He might have better luck as Spider-man, he figured, pulling back out the mask and putting it on under the hood.
Pushing the doors open, he sighed when the warm air hit him. The cashier behind the counter cast him a suspicious glance.
“Are you the real Spider-man?” He asked right away.
“Yeah, sorry, ignore um, my current uh, clothing and blood loss,” he gestured to his leg, which in a small amount of time had already bled through the webbing, staining the white a crimson red, matching his suit. If it wasn’t for how numb the cold rain was making him, he was sure he’d be in a lot more pain.
“And you smell like you just crawled out of a dumpster.”
“That’s because I did. Which, I normally don’t do, FYI. So you know, don’t tell people that Spider-man hangs out in dumpsters, it’s bad for my image. In fact, don’t tell anyone about this encounter in general. Anyway, can I borrow your phone?”
The cashier squinted his eyes some more. “Prove your Spider-man.”
Peter rolled his eyes and then, despite the pain and current medical issues, he did a black flip. He winched when he landed but managed to stay upright. “Ta da.”
“That proves nothing, anyone can do a black flip.”
Glaring at the man, Peter was glad he couldn’t see his face behind the mask. “Alright, look,” he aimed his web shooters at a bag of chips, shooting and pulling it to himself. “Good?”
“I guess,” he said, with a shrug, and then just kind of stared at Peter, as if he was waiting for something amazing to happen.
Which it wasn't going to.
“Can I use your phone? As you can see, I’m having a hell of a day right now.”
“Phone is for paying customers only.”
“Uh,” Peter said. “I have no money however, once I call him, Tony Stark will come here and buy one of everything if I ask him to. Is that okay? I promise Spider-man doesn’t lie.”
Giving him a truly skeptical look, the man shook his head. “Sorry, no. Boss got cameras everywhere, don’t want to be fired.”
“Fine, but do you have anything I can use to stop the bleeding? Garbage is fine, it’ll just match my current look.”
The man frowned, giving Peter another once over. “I guess,” he mumbled before walking away and coming back with a dirty looking towel. “Was gonna throw this out anyway.”
Peter caught the towel when it was tossed to him, it did not look appealing. “Can I use your restrooms?”
“Restrooms are for -”
Peter cut him off. “Paying customers, great, okay. Thanks anyway.”
Not wanting to keep pushing his luck, Peter left the store, waiting until he was a block away, alone in the rain, before pulling his mask off. Karen had let him know systems were still rebooting, which Peter took to mean systems were not going to come online anytime soon.
He went to work wrapping the gross towel over his webbed leg, hoping that would stick better. He put another round of web fluid around it, making it so tight he could barely feel his leg.
His webs were not made to use as first aid devices, the chemicals in them were potentially dangerous. He knew they’d stand up in the weather, but eventually, they’d start to dissolve.
As he walked on, still 10 miles away from his apartment, he started feeling short of breath and dizzy, just adding to his list of problems happening to him. “Why not?” he mumbled to himself, closing his eyes to regain his composure.
“What else could go wrong?” he asked the universe, who then, decided to answer, as a car came around the bend, hitting a puddle, and a large wave of water sprayed on him.
“Geez!” He shouted, annoyed that his spider sense didn’t think this was dangerous. The more the hoodie and pants soaked in water, the less warm and grosser smelling they became.
Overall, Peter was just straight up not having a good time.
He continued his limping toward home, crossing his arms over his chest underneath the hoodie, to preserve as much warmth as possible. Another car came down the road, slowing as it came to Peter, but his spider sense didn’t make a sound.
“Pete?” A voice said and he turned to see Mr. Stark half out the window. “Oh thank God,” he said once he saw Peter’s face. “Get in here, quick.”
Peter didn’t need to be told twice, he practically ran into the car, getting in the back. “Heat!” he pretty much shouted, as the door shut and the sweet, warm air rushed into him. Being away from the rain felt so good.
Mr. Stark turned from the driver’s seat, still in the middle of the deserted road. “Are you hurt? You were limping.”
“Uh fractured some part of my kneecap? And dislocated my shoulder too. Kinda hit a billboard but other than that I’m fine.”
Settling into the seat, he finally got a chance to relax.
“You scared the shit out of us, kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, turning back to the road. “Karen went offline an hour ago, after sending out an SOS. Got to where you last were but couldn’t find you, we’ve been searching since.”
“Sorry,” Peter offered meekly. “I tried to get help.”
“FRI,” he said. “Alert everyone our spider’s been found and we’re heading back to the Tower now.” Stopping at a light he turned around again. “Why do you smell like garbage? And is that,” he squinted. “Is that a Captain America hoodie?”
“Um, well I found this in the garbage, so yeah that’s why. I was uh, my suit got damaged and I was getting cold so I put on garbage clothing.”
“Literally and figuratively,” Mr. Stark snorted. “Anything else I should be worried about?”
“Nah,” Peter said, but then realized he should tell him about the most pressing issue. “Well actually I’m bleeding from the leg but it’s just a scratch. I used my webs to secure everything but it won't stop bleeding and Karen said it’s probably like a nicked blood vessel. And my phone got destroyed, but beyond that, I’m just cold and wet.”
“You keep adding things for someone who is supposedly fine,” Mr. Stark said, deadpan. “Are you really actively suffering from blood loss and acting like it’s no big deal?”
“Eh, I’m really cold and numb. At this point, I could have a gunshot and I probably wouldn’t even notice it,” he said and then added when Tony made a sound. “But I don’t. Gunshot free, I promise. I’m just gonna nap til we get to the Tower, okay?”
“You’re not napping to avoid answering me, are you?”
Peter put on a very fake, loud snore for a few seconds before he heard Tony sigh, and a second later, another blast of hot air washed over him.