Chapter Text
One moment Peter was talking to Doctor Strange begging him to solve everything when everyone else was either dead or in danger because of him and the next he woke up in the dark.
Peter felt the glass walls all around him and a primal urge to move now.
Instincts took over and Peter was only vaguely present for split seconds. Glass in his skin, splinters in his palms, shouting. Blood. Blood. He was bleeding from his head. From his right temple and his jaw. His face was throbbing and he had trouble opening his eyes. He was so cold that he wasn’t even shivering and a deep sense of danger, danger, danger thumped in his chest.
Then nothing until he stood soaked on the street watching the rain try to clean him off.
He looked at his fingers. A nail had fallen off and the rest was bloody and broken unevenly.
Peter looked up. Everything was dark and the few people around barely glanced at him.
Peter took a step, then another until he was in the middle of the street where any car could hit him but no one, including himself, felt the urge to get him off the road until his head cleared enough for him to find temporary shelter.
Peter walked some more and, without thought, closed his eyes underneath a half-roof near an abandoned storefront. The alleyway itself was as dirty as everywhere else and held a scent that was a mixture of piss, spoiled food, and blood. He fell asleep on his stomach and his face barely turned away from the asphalt as he lay between two dumpsters.
Peter should have been cautious about sleeping in public. Still, either no one saw him or they did and didn’t dare to get close to the bloody body of a young boy that looked as if he had been thrown carelessly as a warning to others with limps thrown about in ways that should neither be comfortable nor possible to recover unaided from.
The next day seemed a bit brighter and clearer. Not so much the weather but Peter’s face had stopped throbbing and his mind was at least less scrambled even if there was a vague sense of danger everywhere he looked. He looked down at himself and how pitiful he looked with stiff, brown spots from where he had bled and dirt almost everywhere else. It was glaringly obvious in his ruined white dress shirt and dark gray dress pants.
Peter put a finger in his left ear. The sound was muffled, but he couldn't find anything in it, and it was the wrong side for it to be because of the blood in his hair. Maybe it was impacted ear wax. It was gross and disorienting not to be able to know where all the sounds came from and be surprised when something wasn't picked up by his right ear at all but the right told him about it in full volume.
Peter looked up at the tall buildings. Even the huge building had a giant red W and they all seemed to lack color. Almost everything around him was gray and looked as cold as Peter felt down to his bones. Peter was in different clothes and in a different place and he had no idea what he had escaped from. He just had to survive until he could figure out his next move. If he could go back to Queens. If he even should.
Peter gave his outfit a look again. He needed to be careful to not awaken too much attention and looking like he just came back from the dead would do the opposite.
Peter checked his pockets but they were empty and his expensive dress shirt did not have any pockets. Was that a brooch on the left side of his collarbone? It seemed expensive and not like something someone would give a teenager casually.
Peter smiled. Even when Peter was sent into unknown places Doctor Strange was looking after him.
Peter took off the brooch. It depicted a nightingale in song. The details were impressive and it looked golden all over. Peter wet his cleanest thumb with his tongue and tried to remove all the dirt he could from the brooch and the brooch soon gleamed brightly. Not supernaturally but it was a close thing.
People moved around outside the alleyway and Peter put the brooch in his pocket. A pretty thing like that would be stolen in a matter of minutes in Queens if he wasn’t careful and the general lack of carefree joy around him didn’t make Peter think his chances were any better here. Even the way everyone either ignored him or looked down at him with a raised nose didn't remove his suspicions that someone could and would take it off his hands.
It did probably awaken suspicion for him to walk around with his hand in his pocket but the brooch was too large to subtly walk around within his hand and his pocket was barely big enough to store the brooch when he took a few steps.
Peter assessed his shirt next and decided it was a lost cause. The blood had already dried and he would make it worse if he tried to clean it up in the surrounding puddles. One of the sleeves also held several giant tears from when he got out of the glass chamber.
With nothing else to do Peter walked out of the alleyway and kept his head down when he wasn’t searching for somewhere to either clean himself up or sell the brooch.
Hours passed like that and Peter soon knew he was far away from anything he knew. The first neighborhood he had woken up in had seemed incredibly dark and had disgusting alleyways but in generally good condition, and the next had seemed a little more colorful with a lot of stores with mostly clothes Peter had seen on wealthy people and people trying to imitate them.
It was as if he had entered a new world again when he walked over a bridge where there was only a road and no sidewalk but other people walked there so Peter took a chance. The world before the bridge had been fine. Not great or happy but depicted a place with more money than Peter had ever had and somewhat care for their environment, but the farther he walked the more paint flaked and the more people seemed ready to jump him. The good news was that he stood out less with his messy and bloody appearance. The horrible news was also that he stood out less with his messy and bloody appearance.
Even the pawn shop in front of Peter looked a little bloody and very worn. A huge window that advertised necklaces, rings, and watches was thick and had bars in front of them that looked sturdy even with the rust on them. Or Peter hoped that it was just rust.
Someone had clearly wanted the building to seem very intimidating as even the handle was put up high on the very tall door.
Peter walked in.
The wooden floors were nice and it all smelled clean and of leather and metal. Not quite what Peter preferred but it was far from as unpleasant as outside the shop.
The man behind the counter sent Peter a stern look.
“I have both security cameras and a loaded pistol,” the middle-aged man spat.
“Okay.” Maybe Peter should just walk out and find another place to sell the brooch. Selling it felt a lot like stealing after all even though he had woken up wearing it. Maybe it would be the key to some kind of ally and Peter was ruining it by pawning it off?
The man gave Peter another once over. “Or are you here to buy anything? That shirt looks expensive and I’m sure your mommy and daddy would hate for you to be here for too long after raising hell all night.”
Peter looked down as he shuffled his feet. “I’m here to sell actually.”
The man didn’t answer for a few long seconds before Peter looked back at him.
“Well, what are you selling, boy? I don’t have all day.”
“Uh, yeah, of course, mister. Here it is.” Peter pulled the brooch out of his pocket and the man’s demeanor changed immediately. He seemed almost juvenile and had a clear spark in his eyes.
“Arh, yes, a little pocket money for the little sir then? I can see from here that I can give you a good 50 dollars.”
Peter looked down at the brooch. It looked far more expensive than that and Peter felt a heavy weight in his stomach.
“Silly me, that’s nothing for you of course. 100?”
Peter just stared. He had never even been to a pawnshop before as either a seller or a buyer but he thought that they had to inspect the items first and then give a price that couldn’t just be doubled.
“What did you have in mind if 100 isn’t enough for you, kid?”
Peter looked up at the man. He was very tall and very broad with his extended stomach and wide shoulders.
“300?” Peter said when it was clear the man was waiting for Peter.
“300? 250 dollars and we have a deal.”
Peter furrowed his brows. The man still held a playful spark in his eyes and Peter got the distinct feeling that even 300 would be too little for a brooch like this.
Peter looked down at the man’s hip and saw the pistol and smelt the gunpowder in the air. He didn’t dare ask for more than he had already but he would hold firm.
“300 or no deal.”
The man laughed and hit the counter with a surprising amount of strength. “A little businessman, huh? Learned from your old man?”
Peter didn’t answer, he simply took in everything he could about the man.
“Well, okay, boy. Just rob me blind, why don’t you?”
“300,” Peter repeated with as much strength as he could but even his firmest voice sounded like that of a prepubescent child.
“Let me look at that a little closer before it comes to that.” The man’s hand extended towards Peter.
Peter almost laid it in the man’s hand when the feeling in his stomach and the smirk on the man’s lips stopped him.
“No, 300, or I walk.”
The man rolled his eyes but relented when Peter took his hand back and headed for the door.
“Fine, fine.” The man didn’t wait for Peter to come back, he simply opened the cash register and took out ten 20-dollar bills.
“You’re missing 100 dollars,” Peter said.
“You’re so right.” The man smiled but Peter could see the resentment behind the man’s eyes.
It was okay though. Peter didn’t need the man to like him to give him his money.
The man held a firmer grip on the money than he had to but Peter got his money and quickly stuffed the bills into his pocket. It was only when Peter walked outside that he wondered if it was all pawn shops who didn’t give the customer a receipt or something to get their item back.
Peter looked at the window and saw the man put the brooch in the window with all the necklaces and watches.
The sign next to the brooch informed him it was selling for 2000 dollars.
Peter was about to walk past the shop farther down the street when a tingle made him look a little more carefully. Four men were waiting in the alleyway for Peter to walk past and Peter felt sick when looking at them. No one pawned anything for the fun of it and most people had cherished their items for years before having to tearfully depart from them, and these men were waiting to steal the money from those poor people.
If Peter had been in his suit right now he would have given them a piece of his mind no matter how freakishly tall three of the men seemed to be and the last one was quite tall too with over a foot on Peter. It would awaken attention if he fought and won those men and Peter would be penniless and beaten for nothing if he didn't win.
Peter instead walked on the other side of the street for almost an hour before he finally arrived at a thrift store. All the items smelt musty and some even smelt of old sweat but Peter found one pair of jeans, one pair of joggers, 4 T-shirts, and a dark green hoodie in very good condition that all only smelt of the shop itself. Unpleasant but not horribly so. He even found a nice wallet that was only slightly worn on the outside and a mostly black backpack that seemed to have originally had a black and yellow logo but now it was just black with lines of yellow in a seemingly random pattern.
Peter had paid the cashier with a 20 dollar bill and got 5 dollars and some change back before he stuffed everything into his backpack and as subtly as possible put the money in the wallet and the wallet in his backpack. The cashier didn't notice anything as she inspected the 20-dollar bill.
Peter put the backpack on his front as he walked out of the shop. No one would be able to sneak up on him and his right ear and steal from his backpack now.
Peter looked around for somewhere to change his clothes quickly and without an audience and he eventually settled on checking the different alleyways. The first one held a group of teenagers who were drinking either whiskey or vodka. Peter couldn’t see from a glance and was not brave enough to give them a second one. The next alleyway held several men who seemed calm and mostly just talking while smoking cigarettes but Peter still didn’t want to change his clothes in front of them either. Finally, after almost 10 minutes Peter found an empty alleyway that held dumpsters for Peter to hide behind. Peter sighed at that thought. He had fallen so far that he was now celebrating changing his clothes behind a dumpster.
Peter walked over behind the biggest one and pulled the jeans and a red and black striped t-shirt out of his backpack.
Peter hadn’t checked the clothing sizes in the thief's store. He had simply just held it in front of him and guessed as the store hadn’t had a changing room and not all the clothing items had a tag anymore.
He should have checked as all his new t-shirts were a size 8, 10, or unmarked and the pants were a size 7. Peter had never been a wide boy but he wasn’t the size of a child at 17. Peter looked around at everyone walking past the alleyway and at the tall dumpsters. Or maybe he was the size of a child here where everyone was a giant.
Peter was both relieved and horrified when the pants were a little loose around his waist but fit lengthwise and the t-shirt should probably have been sized down. Peter decided not to think about the implications of that and threw away his ruined dress shirt and stuffed the fancy size 6 pants in his backpack. They were mostly intact and only needed minor repairs and a wash.
Peter only gave himself a few minutes before he walked out to find somewhere to buy socks, underwear, and something to eat. All the while also looking for somewhere to stash his belongings and sleep. He could probably have found a homeless shelter but the last time he had looked in a mirror he had looked too young for any shelter to not call CPS and with no papers to detere them. Peter would not take a chance before he was decently confident that he would be left outside of that mess. Peter's heart hurt at the thought of someone looking for him but Peter quickly shook that thought out of his head. He seemed to have been some kind of experiment and that either meant that Doctor Strange had done something to make Peter appear in a different place or some evil scientist had kidnapped Peter.
Peter looked up at the sky to evaluate what he should do now. He didn't know what time it had been when he had woken up that day but he had assumed it had been very early morning from the darkness but it was already getting dark and colder after Peter had been awake for less than 5 hours.
"This is some crap," Peter said in a great deal of rebellion. Aunt May would give him a disappointed look if she heard him say that but he was tired, and hungry and would do anything to have someone genuinely care about his language at that moment.
Feeling a little taller after his almost explicit language, Peter walked down the street with a backpack on his front and a hard look at the different residences and stores around him.
He found a sign telling him he was about to enter Park Row with graffiti over it telling him someone renamed it Crime Alley. Peter turned left to walk down a street called Oak Street which had no foreboding nickname and found a building with gunshot holes all over including through all the windows with one only having shards left.
Peter was about to get away from that building as fast as he could when he looked closer at all the other buildings. They all had gunshot holes and the only ones that looked better than this one were inhabited.
Peter looked up at the first building. There was a giant sign welcoming him to Good Ham but Peter didn't think anyone had used that building for longer than he had been alive.
Peter took off his backpack and pulled out his hoodie. He had already had goosebumps from being near Crime Alley but now they were making themselves even more known as he put the hoodie on the window shards and hopped in with all his belongings.
Dust flew up as soon as Peter landed and his chest soon felt sore from coughing. Every step after that brought up more dust but Peter checked every room for non-spider and non-rat inhabitants. There was none and although Peter wasn't the biggest fan of living among rat dropping he could have found worse shelters to squat in.
Peter debated leaving some of his money at his new shelter but decided against it. He wanted neither rats nor humans to find his money. He checked the backdoor next to where there had once been a walk-in fridge but the door was locked and Peter couldn't find the key anywhere. Next, he tried the front door but it had been secured shut with boards at some point after the glass door had been broken.
The old meat displays were filthy with dust and droppings but they would be a good place for him to place whatever food he could find. Peter lifted his hand to run it through his hair as he thought about all he needed to buy when it was stopped by the dried blood in his hair.
Peter sighed. So much for walking around like a normal boy when he had to go out to find and buy groceries and cleaning products.