Chapter Text
“Mr.Stark, please! I don’t wanna go—please, please, please” Peter pleaded, his voice cracking and growing more desperate as his trembling body sank to the floor taking his mentor and father figure down with him.
He knew Mr stark couldn’t help him. Nothing could. But still, he searched for reassurance in his mentor’s tear filled eyes.
All Peter wanted in the world in that moment was for Tony to hold him tight and tell him he would be ok—that he wasn’t going to die.
But Peter knew that wasn’t going to happen.
It felt as though his molecules were being torn apart and being reassembled somewhere far away.
Tony’s words of encouragement barely reached him as the world faded to darkness
just before everything disappeared Dr.Strange appeared in his vision.
“Sorry kid, it was the only way.”
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When Peters sight returned he thought it was all a dream… no not a dream a nightmare the last thing that he remembered couldn’t be real he had died in the arms of his father. No, not father— mentor. Sure, he saw Tony as a father figure, but they never really got around to discussing their relationship.
Focus.
He needed to figure out where he was.
Peter looked around the grimy, narrow ally where he woke up. His spider sense blared in his head like an alarm.
DANGER. HIDE. RUN. NOT SAFE.
A wave of panic seized him, making the tight ally feel suffocating. He needed to get out. Now.
Using a dumpster for support he hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the soreness in his muscles. His head throbbed. He pulled off his mask and took a shaky breath before stepping out of the alley.
A few feet away he spotted a police officer
“Excuse me officer…” Peter hesitated, Trying to steady his voice. “Uh… do you know where we are?”
The officer narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Peter with suspicion. Immediately Peter’s senses flared
RUN.
Spinning on his heal Peter bolted
the officer chased him for barely a minute before giving up, muttering curses under his breath as he turned away.
Peter ducked into a side street his mind racing. ‘What now?’
He remembered what Mrs Natasha told once.
“Peter, if your ever lost or stuck in a place you don’t know, find water, food, and shelter, before you do anything else.”
‘Right, that shouldn’t be too hard.’ Peter thought to himself.
He walked down the sketchy sidewalk, stepping over shattered beer bottles and cigarette butts every couple of steps. His eyes scanning his surroundings till they landed on a dimly lit bar across the street.
’Bars give out free water, right?’
————————————
Slade had just finished one of his tougher contracts and was looking for a break.
The bar sucked, but it was the closest to his place, and he wasn’t planning on staying long. He was exhausted.
A whole month in Siberia helping The Light with their latest scheme—one that the Justice League would obviously thwart, again—had taken its toll. He didn’t care though. As long as he got paid, it didn’t matter.
As he sipped his drink, the door swung open, and a kid walked in.
He couldn’t have been older than fourteen.
Bruised face. Blood dripping from his forehead. A slight limp. And a… supersuit?
Hidden under an oversized crewneck sweatshirt.
Slade raised an eyebrow. A street kid coming into a bar wasn’t unusual. Plenty of them stopped by looking for a drink—something to numb the pain of their already shitty lives.
But this one…
This kid was a spitting image of his apprentice. his Robin.
Everything was the same—the messy hair, the sharp eyes—except this kid was a little taller than his apprentice back than, and had slightly lighter hair.
The boy slid onto a barstool, leaving one seat between them.
Melissa, the bartender, walked over. “Hey kid, whatcha want?” She asked, offering a slight smile. She always had a soft spot for the street kids
“Do you guys have any water?” The kid asked, his voice horse and scratchy
Melissa looked relieved he didn’t ask for alcohol. “Of course kiddo.”
She turned to fill him a tall glass and set it down in front of him
Peter started digging around in his pockets scrounging for some change
Slade tossed 3 dollars onto the bar. “Don’t worry kid, I got you.”
Peter gave him a grateful smile, before chugging his water like he hadn’t had anything to drink for days.
Mellissa took the money and went to help someone else at the other end of the bar.
Slade leaned forward slightly. “So, kid. where are your parents?”
Peter hesitated mid-gulp before lowering the glass. “Uh… they’re on an important business trip.”
Lie.
Slade smirked. “Oh yeah what kind of business.”
Peter scratched at a scab on his hand. “Uh… F-ffashion.”
“Fashion?”
“Yeah. You probably haven’t heard of their brand.”
Slade chucked. “Right. What kind of clothes do they make?”
“Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yep. Best in the business. Good ol’ Mom and Dad.”
Slade let a touch of amusement flicker across his face “What’s your name, kid?”
Peter hesitated. Something about this man felt off.
Still, his spider-sense wasn’t warning him, so… maybe he was overreacting? And the guy had bought him water. That meant he was nice, right?
“…It’s Peter, sir.”
“Slade, Slade Wilson. Nice to meet you Peter.” He said as he extended a rough calloused hand
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Peter hesitated before shaking Slades outstretched hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mr.Wilson.”
The moment Peter said that Slade made his decision.
This kid has potential.
Robin had rejected him. but maybe Robin’s street-kid lookalike would make an even better apprentice.
Peter shifted uncomfortably, glancing around. “Um… excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” He stood up, glancing at Slade warily. “Uh… where is it?”
“Down the hall. First door on the left.”
Slade watched him go.
The moment Peter disappeared down the hallway, Slade reached into his jacket, pulled out a small vial of sedative, and poured the entire dose into Peter’s drink.
He could track the kid, stalk him, and kidnap him later if he wanted—but this was easier. And judging by the bruises and blood, the kid had no one looking for him.
No one would miss him.
————————————
Peter’s entire body ached. His muscles were screaming for rest. Every step down the hallway felt sluggish and unsteady.
He decided to use the family restroom instead of the men’s room—just in case, he needed privacy to fully check his injuries.
Locking the door behind him, he finally got a good look at himself.
Huh.
He was wearing his blue M.I.T. crewneck—the one Tony had given him as a 14th birthday gift. Along with some baggy jeans over his Spider-Man suit.
Wait. What?
That… didn’t make sense.
When he had disintegrated, he had only been wearing his suit. No hoodie. No jeans. So how—?
Peter frowned. He smelled like blood and sweat. He grabbed a handful of paper towels, soaked them in water, and scrubbed his face and arms, trying to clean himself up.
Once he looked and smelled somewhat decent, he took a deep breath and stepped back out.
Peter barely sat down before he felt a hand on his hip.
His entire body locked up.
“What’s a pretty thing like you doing down here?” The man said in a husky voice
His spider-sense screamed.
Let go. Please stop.
He tried to speak, but his throat closed up. He couldn’t move.
The man’s grip tightened. “Why don’t you come with me? We can have a little fun, hmm? How does that sound?”
Move. Move. MOVE.
But Peter was frozen—panic crashing over him like a tidal wave.
Just as he thought he might have to fight, a large figure shoved between him and the creep.
Slade.
Peter tensed, panic spiking again—were they friends?
Then Slade’s voice cut through the tension like a knife.
“Hey, Randy.” His tone was low, cold. Dangerous.
The man hesitated.
“I thought I told you pedos weren’t allowed in my bar,” Slade said. “Get out. Now. Before I throw you out myself.”
The man bolted.
Slade watched him go, his jaw clenched. Then, he turned back to Peter and placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
And this time, Peter didn’t feel panic or fear.
“Hey, kiddo,” Slade said, his voice quieter now. “You okay?”
Peter still couldn’t speak. But he managed a small nod.
“Here,” Slade said, pushing the glass of water toward him. “Drink this. It’ll help.”
Peter hesitated for just a second before picking it up.
“Thank you,” he croaked, his throat dry, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.
He tipped the glass back and downed the water in one go.
Almost immediately, something felt wrong.
His vision blurred. The world tilted.
His limbs felt heavy.
“Mr. Wilson…” Peter’s head lolled forward as he grabbed at his temples. “Smthin’s… wrong…”
His reality crumbled, slipping through his grasp like sand.
The last thing he felt was strong arms catching him before the darkness swallowed him whole.