Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter has a knack for getting into batty situations. He's frankly tired of it. He's kissed a Queen and mutated into a freak monster. He's dealt with clones way too many times to count. He's swapped bodies with Wolverine. Safe to say, there's not much that could surprise him. Honestly? Ending up in another universe wasn't ever beyond the realm of possibility. Especially after meeting Miles Morales.

Yet Peter never traveled the multiverse himself. The worst part of it was his molecules being ripped apart and rebuilt. It was excruciatingly painful and once he was settled, his body hadn't felt like his. Despite nothing changing about it.

Peter had been trailing Doc Ock for months. His sensors throughout the city of Queens were picking up strange magnetic signals. Variance in the magnetic fields weren't usually suspicious; these were so powerful that they could interfere with the field surrounding Earth. Spidey may be immune to radiation, but most of Earth wasn't, thank you very much. Point is that after, he'd been observing what the doctor had been up to.

Many villains in Spider-Man’s time have been experimenting with traveling universes. This only grew after Morales stayed on Earth-616; his story seemingly inspiring the baddies. Most were incredibly unsuccessful. Particle colliders, quantum portals, a bunch of science shit that half of them couldn't begin to understand. Nevertheless, if there's anyone who could figure it out it would be Doc Ock. Peter himself hadn’t even considered using magnetic fields. It would be a much safer mode, human bodies are used to strong magnetic forces in day to day life.

Just because it's safer, doesn't mean the doctor should be tampering with it. The multiverse is incredibly sensitive. Tampering with cross universe travel could cause a mass scale ripple in the multiverse. One that Peter nor any of Earth-616’s heroes are equipped to handle.

It had taken a while, but Peter finally found the doctor’s main base of operations. He'd been working on a goober that could counteract Doc Ock’s magnetic destabilizer. He's not certain it would work, but he doubted the doctor was anywhere close to completing his project.

He shouldn't have underestimated the mad genius.

It happened so fast. Spider-Man hid in the shadows, trying to make his way closer to the control panel that Doc Ock left unaccounted. The terminal had already been activated, but nothing appeared to be happening. This of course didn’t mean nothing would happen. Peter was no more than a web away before the machine came to life. The air is quite literally charged, the forces of electrons jumping between atoms in speeds not visible to the naked human eye.

Peter was not human. Nothing in the world could begin to describe the sight. The machine generating the instability was collapsing in on itself. A lightshow of fireworks of the electrons in the air, all colliding into one central point. Any sloppier and the doctor’s project would have generated a black hole and killed them all.

“Yes! Yes! Finally!” The doctor let out a feverish laugh.

Peter acted before he could think. Reasonably, he should have shoved the goober into the panel. But he didn't, instead, he followed his instincts like a fool. With all his strength, he pushed Doc Ock away from the machine. The last thing he heard was the evil genius’ delight echoing in his mind. It left a sinking rock in his stomach.

A rock that didn’t dissipate despite the fact that Peter Parker became no more on Earth-616. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before; to be disintegrated and sloppily put back together by the universe. Nothing physically changed, but Peter could feel it in his whole body. It hurt in such a way that was beyond physical. As if the electrons in his being were scratching against the confines of their atoms. TLDR; Peter felt sick.

So now you’re all caught up.

Peter didn’t get much time at all to catch his breath. Next thing he knows there's a guy running through his shoulder.

“Watch where you're going, freak!” His accent sounded vaguely familiar, but it was just barely wrong. Uncanny would be the word he'd use.

Spider-Man acted before thinking again. “You were the one who knocked into me, pal.”

The man turned around. He held a bag to his chest and a gun in his other hand. It’s just his luck that he runs into a robber not soon after having an out of body experience. Peter quickly uses his webs to unarm the assailant.

“What the fuck! Get back, you fucking meta!” Meta? Did he mean mutant?

“Not a mutant, I'll be taking that bag you’ve so clearly stolen.” He shoots another web grabbing the bag. It appears to be full of cash. Bank robbery then, kinda odd that there's only one of him.

The guy immediately runs, leaving Peter with his belongings. “They always run…” He let out a disappointed sigh. Peter hadn't had a fight in a while, and he hates to say that he misses it. This line of work more often than not had him running after the baddies.

It's not even a few seconds later that the cops arrive. He expected for them to somehow recognize him, maybe they had a Spider-Man here. However, the coppers instead surround him with guns.

“Drop the bag and gun, or we'll shoot.” How strange.

Maybe to anyone else, it wouldn't be. However, Peter isn't just anyone else. They didn't say ‘drop it or we'll be forced to incapacitate you,’ they intended to shoot him. One change in mannerisms told Peter all he needed to know; wherever he was was a place so unsafe that cops couldn't take chances. Peter drops the bag and gun steadily.

Except like hell is he going to be arrested. “It's been a real treat, officers. Unfortunately, I can't stick around. Got a hot date with freedom and I can't skip out. Ciao.” He offers a small salute before shooting a web to the nearest building.

The cops didn't hold back, shooting at him the moment he left solid ground. It did not help that his suit’s color scheme stood out on the dark streets of the city. Peter was going to have to lay low. Damnit! He didn't have any civvies. He's stranded in another universe with nothing but his suit and maybe some cash. He was thoroughly screwed.

He's able to just barely hide in the shadows of an alleyway. This wasn't the worst day of his life, it didn't even make the top 50. Ignoring the fact that #15 on the list was when they outlawed wheatcakes for a bit. Peter could do this. He just needed to make a plan.

First step; find some civvies. Wouldn't be too hard, this was a city after all. Peter sticks to the alleys of the area. He couldn't afford to grant too much attention to himself. He's able to find a store holding clothes relatively quickly. The cashier didn't even spare him a glance. Another note, then. This city is not a stranger to masked people running around. What the hell was with this place?

He grabbed a random hoodie, socks, and some sweatpants. The cheapest he could scrounge around for. Peter sets them down on the counter. The TV behind the cashier catches his attention.

“Bank robber at large. If you see a masked man in red and blue, please report them to the authorities as soon as possible. The robber appears to be a metahuman; avoid confrontation as much as possible. Stay alert, stay alive.”

Stay alive, not stay safe. A chill ran down his spine.

The teenager servicing him hardly even moves. “That'll be 15.67. Do you intend to rob us?”

“No?”

“Sounds like a question. If you try, I've got the cops on speed dial.” The fact that she's got a whole routine doesn't bode well with Peter.

“I'm not here to rob you. I just wanna buy these clothes.” Peter reaches into his utility belt, praying he still has some random cash. Bingo. He slides it over.

“With stolen money?”

“No.”

“Counterfeit?”

“No. How often do you get robbed, what the hell?”

“Twice a day. Never ran into a robber like you.” She idly chews on gum. “Alright. I trust you're telling the truth. If not, that's fine. You stick out like a sore thumb with that patriotic barf bag of a suit.”

Usually Peter would be insulted, but he's exhausted. It's been a long day and his atoms still haven't settled into this world. “Oh yeah. I had a question.”

The cashier rolls her eyes. “No, we don't offer a weapons service. This is a completely legit operation of business.”

“... Okay? Not what I was going to ask. Do you know where I am?”

“Aristotle’s Closet. Says so on the door.”

“No, like what city?”

She looks him over like he just asked an insane question. It probably was. “Gotham.”

Peter mouths Gotham to himself. It rings a bell, but he's not sure why.

The cashier picks up on his confusion. “New Jersey.”

Peter is a smart guy. It's been a while since university, but he's certain that Gotham is not a city within New Jersey. But he doesn't have time right now to ponder about the logistics of this new world.

Peter sneaks off into an alleyway before he puts the civvies on. It's then he notices that his hoodie says ‘I’ve lost an electron! … Are you positive?’ Peter chuckles at the irony. He sits against the alley wall. His body has calmed down enough that he realizes it's fucking freezing. New York has never been this cold before. It's not the same kind of cold, not the one caused by wind or dry air. It's a wet cold that seeps into your bones and sets up home.

Which is a horrible turn of events. Even with Peter's heater in his suit, it's not enough to ward off the chill. It's like the city knows he can't regulate his temperature and is throwing it straight into his face. Not to mention the fact that he was virtually homeless and unemployed.

That's fine. It's nothing Spider-Man can't handle. Spiders are built for adaptability, and Peter's got the genes of at least three of them. Now that he had on civvies, he wasn't identifiable. He also needed information and warmth. That left him with one clear answer: the library.

Peter takes out his phone and prays that his SIM card is even remotely compatible with this universe. His phone turns on and seems to be working fine, but it lacks service. That's fine, he'll just leech off a public Wi-Fi and get the directions to the nearest library. Easy peasy.

Nothing in this universe is easy. Peter witnessed four crimes just on the way to the library. The cops were stretched to their bare bones in this city, and it looks like there's very few heroes or vigilantes protecting the city. He nearly breached to say that there weren't any. But Peter has heightened senses, he can hear murmurs of names that could only be hero names. They were fantastic at coming up with bad names. He's a victim of it himself.

The library itself is a little run down, but it's been shown more love than most of the buildings in the city. Most of the workers are teenagers, he reckons half of them are volunteers. For the first time since Peter's been here, his heart swells. His spider sense he hadn't even realized was ringing calmed down as well.

Peter felt safe.

He approaches the librarian’s circular counter. It brings a wave of nostalgia over him. The lady behind the counter is a redhead, and an aura that reminds him of MJ. It's clear in her face that she's aged, not in the way you'd think. She's an older woman, yes, but she has the lines of someone who's seen haunting things.

“Good evening, sir.” Her face brightened, the aged lines still gracing her face. “Welcome to Gotham’s public library. Is there anything I could help you with?”

“I just need to use a computer, miss. If that's not too much of an issue.”

“Yes, of course. Do you have your library card?”

Shit. Peter didn't have anything on him that'll get him one. He has an ID, but it's for New York. There's no way he could use that.

“I'm sorry, miss. I'm passing through and I don't have an ID for this state. I'll get out of your hair.” He offers her a small salute, before getting ready to turn.

“Wait.” He stops. The librarian stares into his eyes, seeming to search for something. Whatever it was, she found it. “You seem like a nice kid.” Stupid baby face. 24 and he still looks like a college kid. “So I'll take a look at your ID and I'll give you a temporary card. How does that sound?”

Peter beams. He wasn't certain that kindness existed in such a tough city. “Thank you, miss.”

“Oh please, I'm Barbara. You're free to call for me if you need any help, Mr…?”

Peter hands over his ID from his wallet. “Parker, my last name is Parker.”

Barbara takes a look. “A pleasure to meet you, Peter Parker. Queens, huh? I guessed based on your accent you were from New York.”

He rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. No one has ever told him that he had an accent. “Yeah. Just passing through.”

“You've got hell of balls to pass through Gotham.” She's got a raised eyebrow on her smile, a tease.

“Hasn't been so bad. Sure, I've seen five crimes in the same hour, but hey, I'm alive?” He jests, but he finds some truth in the last part.

“That you are.” She hands him back his ID as well as a library card. “Try not to use them for any dubious means.”

Peter gasps, holding his hand to his heart. “I would never, Miss Barbara. Especially not since you know my name.”

Barbara laughs. Peter thinks about MJ once again. He walks over to a computer, cracks his knuckles, straightens his back, and prepares to start his research.

Peter knew the name Gotham sounded familiar. He's landed himself smack dab in the middle of the crime central of America. At least it is in comics. Where he's from, this Gotham place is in a group of comics published by DC that are clearly knockoffs of heroes that exist. In this universe, they're real. Which is not a great feeling. Gotham is infamous for the largest number of villains centralized in one singular area.

That's fine. He doesn't have to stay here. He just needs to check something, if there's anyone who could take him home, it'd be him.

But no Peter Parker in New York matches anything related to him. He started with Peter Benjamin Parker, but no dice. He took out the middle name, maybe the Spider-Man here didn't have a middle name. Still no dice. Okay so what about-

Not what he wants.

He was so so fucked. Okay, don't panic, Parker. There are plenty of other geniuses he knows.

No Doctor Octavius.

No Tony Stark.

No Reed Richards.

The only results for Stark and Banner are comics. Which, by the way, is the biggest cosmic insult ever. There's Iron Man and Hulk, but no Spider-Man? God must be playing some sick joke on him. Not funny. He's not laughing.

Okay. None of the geniuses of his universe are here. That's fine. He'll just find the ones in this universe. The results aren't promising.

Lex Luthor; supervillain.

Ray Palmer; hero, but he lives in Washington.

Thomas Oscar; supervillain.

The list goes on and on, either they live across the world or they're a supervillain. There's only one name on the list that catches his attention.

Bruce Wayne. Holy fucking shit. He forgot about Batman. Essentially this world’s Tony Stark, but that's the extent that Peter knows about him. If there's anyone who could help him get home, it's fucking Batman.

Forget this being a bad day, this is one of the best days of his life. Peter is going to brag that he met Batman when he gets home. No one is going to believe him, but that's a-okay with him. This is balls off the walls awesome.

There's still a small issue. Peter can't just go up to Wayne Enterprises and demand a meeting with Wayne. Not to mention, the guy probably wouldn't even believe him about his claim that he's from another universe. He was also still homeless and unemployed. Bruce Wayne is a generous man, but Peter reckons he's not that generous.

This is Gotham, though. Peter has a hunch that there are a ton of abandoned buildings. It's not the safest bet, but it'll keep him out of the cold. As for unemployment? He's lived as a broke college student before. It's not exactly pretty, but you'd be surprised what you could find in the trash.

Peter had a plan. A very sloppy and loose plan, but a plan.

Finding an abandoned apartment was child's play. Initially, he thought the entire building was abandoned. He'd been proven wrong when he realized he had neighbors. Loud ones at that. Peter was going to move on, but he figured he'd take his chances that no one was going to check this apartment. He'd just have to be quiet, a ghost. He's certain the landlord would be none the wiser. He sends a silent apology and thank you to God. Small blessings.

He'd spent the next few days settling in. Parker was right about his hunch that the landlord never checked the apartments. Even when there was screaming or gunshots, no one batted an eye. Usually that would be a huge red flag, but he learns quickly that Gotham citizens are excelled at self preservation. He doesn't have a bed still, however, that's not really an issue. Ever since the bite Peter hadn't needed to sleep as much. His webbing works as a good makeshift hammock as well.

Parker discovered swiftly that Gotham is not a place you live in. It’s a place you survive in. There’s a large homeless population, so regardless of the amount of trash laying around, there was also an equal amount of competition. Food was hard to come by and water was near impossible. That’s fine, thank god that his metabolism is able to slow down at will. Clothes were also hard, but Peter didn’t mind not having too many. Furniture was a no-go. Appliances? Those were the real treasure trove. Most of the average homeless population in Gotham doesn’t have the skill of engineering like he does.

There was one glaring obstacle left. Peter needed to find the materials to make his web fluid. Sure, he had natural spinnerets thanks to the Queen, but they relied heavily on his body’s health. Relying on food scraps meant that he couldn’t really do much with them. So why doesn’t he just find some cleaning supply closet and go with the flow? That’s not really how chemistry worked. Peter needed raw and pure chemicals to work on his web fluid. Hard to come by in his own universe and highly expensive. He could buy them but his cards don’t work here - why would they?

Spidey’s left with one option. It wasn't within his moral ethics. It was also asking for Death to come take him early. It’s his only choice. Peter would have to steal the chemicals. The only place in Gotham that officially stores ethical chemicals is Wayne Enterprises, but he is not stealing from the guy he needs help from. He could get a job there, but it would still be theft. There were plenty of unethical sources of chemicals he could parse together. Gotham was no stranger to mad genius villains. Villains who create their own substances using various compounds.

Police radio was unreliable as he found out. The cops were incompetent and they were spread thin. His best bet would be to set up bugs around the city. It’s invasive and normally Peter would only bug people he’s sure are criminals, but he doesn’t have a lot of options. While the information starts to seep through, he needs to desperately redo his suit.

He couldn't be stealing as Peter Parker nor Spider-Man after all. He’s a wanted criminal. Bruce Wayne most definitely would not want to help a wanted criminal. Not to mention, the comment the teenage cashier made was still with him. Spider-Man stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the vigilantes of Gotham.

He can't recall if he used the alias Spider-Man in his altercation with the police. Better to be safe than sorry and use a different name. He’ll keep it simple, too. In the coming weeks, it’ll be time for Gotham to meet its friendly neighborhood Spider.