Chapter Text
Peter Parker woke up in a mess of blankets, eyes still heavy with fatigue. He lazily reached for the glasses on his nightstand out of instinct more than necessity. Checking the time on his phone, it was six-thirty A.M. Regardless of the fact that he had only crashed a few hours earlier, he would force himself up. After all, he almost never missed May before she left for work, so why start now?
Peter yawned and stretched as he rolled out of bed. It seemed darker than usual, which was not helping with the urge to fall back asleep. He shook his legs out, bouncing on his toes, which sufficiently got his blood pumping, then he reached for his curtains, but accidentally tugged too hard trying to open them. The metal rod came tumbling down, knocking him straight over the head. Though it stung a little, he at least knew why it was so dark. Rain drops raced down the window, distorting the city lights into luminous blobs.
He normally didn’t pay much attention to the weather, but that would make this the third time this week. Usually the storms hit in the afternoon and cleared out by morning, if they hit at all, but this one looked to be in it for the long haul. He could already tell that today was going to be long as rainy days tended to be for some unknown reason, and if that was the case, he figured he might as well get going.
As Peter walked into the kitchen, he found that outside wasn’t the only place that was dark. He flicked the light switch on and off again. Nothing.
That was weird. He thought.
He aimlessly sauntered around the apartment until he came across May in the living room. She was pacing around frantically, shaking her phone in her hands.
“Oh, Morning’ Peter.” She acknowledged, looking awfully defeated.
“What’s going on?” He asked.
“I just got off the phone with the power company. The bill didn’t go through.” May rubbed her temples anxiously.
“I don’t know what to do. Their office doesn’t open until Monday.” She lamented.
“What!? It’s Saturday! They’re just gonna leave us without power the whole weekend?”
“I guess so.” She conceded.
Peter hummed, at a loss for any reasonable solutions.
“I hate to leave you home like this, but we’re shorthanded at the shelter and I can’t-“
“Don’t worry about me, May. I’ll be fine.” He shut her apology down quickly, noticing the stress she was carrying start to bubble over.
“You sure kiddo? Don’t you have online homework?”
“I can just head over to Niko’s or Harry’s. It’s no big deal.” He assured.
Aunt May looked at him with the same remorseful expression she always had whenever she felt bad about something that was out of her control, as if it was her fault and not the good ol’ reliable Parker luck, (copyright pending.)
May, in her emotions, pulled him into a hug. Peter returned it, allowing the moment to linger for as long as she needed it to.
“You’re the best kid in the world. Do you know that?”
“Only because you’re the best Aunt in the quantifiable universe.” He replied, hugging May tighter because he could tell that she was crying.
“It’ll be okay, May. We’ll figure it out.” Peter consoled.
“Guess we’ll have to postpone the Bachelor til’ after the weekend.” May pulled away, smiling as she wiped her eyes. She put her hand on his head and ruffed up his hair affectionately.
“I’ll leave some cash for food. You probably shouldn’t be eating anything in the fridge now that I think of it.” She patted him on the shoulder as they parted, then headed to the table for her wallet.
May spent a moment digging through her purse and placed a small wad of cash, which Peter had already decided he wasn’t going to use, on the counter top.
“I guess I have to get to work.” May exhaled a sigh.
“Let me know if you leave, and call me if you need anything.” She went to exit but paused.
“I love you, Peter.”
“Love you too, May.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, kiddo.” She beamed and whisked out the door, keys jingling.
Poor May. Peter thought, glancing at the stack of envelopes on the coffee table.
Among old condolence letters and Ben’s ancient hospital bills were a series of past-due notices.
Truthfully, they were one landlord’s bad day away from getting evicted.
He couldn’t help but feel terrible knowing how much May was pushing just to keep them afloat and how little he was contributing at the moment.
While he didn’t regret parting with Oscorp after the space portal incident, he couldn’t deny that the compensation certainly eased some financial concerns.
He had enough money leftover to pay for today’s meals, but even if May would let him pitch in, it wouldn’t cover the rent. He knew he’d have to find another job sometime soon, at least til’ Harry’s startup got off the ground. Being Spider-Man certainly didn’t pay the bills. Then and again, he didn’t expect it to.
He looked around the dark apartment. It was a heck of a downer for sure, but he wasn’t too worried about being holed up inside. Crime didn’t stop on a rainy day so why should he?
~
Peter had only been out for about an hour and he was already completely drenched. Even the hoodie he picked up on the way out couldn’t save him from the miserable weather. He hunkered down on a wall below the cornice of an older building, resting beside a lonely pigeon who had the same idea.
“Awfully quiet today.” He said to the bird. It expectantly blinked, then fluffed up to dry itself. Peter laughed.
“Yeah, me too.”
It was most definitely too early for him to bug Niko about using her dryer on a weekend. He thought about calling Harry, but Peter really didn’t feel like dodging Mr. Osborn at the tower while dressed like a wet sock, so he just sat there, waiting, listening.
The scanner in his mask had been mumbling occasional chatter, but not much was coming over the waves and it was easy to see why. The city was shrouded in a sheet of cold rain and the clouds refused to let up. Peter thought that If he was a criminal, he’d probably be inside right about now. Thankfully, (debatably, according to a few News outlets,) that wasn’t the case.
He flipped his scanner off for a moment to listen to the rain, tapping his fingers on his knees to match the pitter patter. His own circumstances aside, it actually was quite peaceful. Well, as peaceful as New York City could manage. The bustle of the streets had quieted, sure, but it never ceased.
He sighed, looking down at the tame street below.
Even though he was shivering in his sopped suit, packing up and heading home just didn’t sit right. He reached for the scanner again, but he wasn’t prepared for what came through. The moment he cranked that dial, he was bombarded by noise.
“~Central, 112 Charlie, we’ve got a situation here. Major structural damage on Queens Boulevard, 71st avenue, multiple buildings hit!~” A somewhat frantic Officer came over the line, his voice muddied by the sound of rain and possible background destruction.
“~Central Copy 112 Charlie, proceed~”
“~Be advised, Two unidentified enhanced subjects appear to be altercating, there’s been structural damage, multiple civilians in the crossfire. Requesting immediate backup! ESU, FD, EMS. Shi- ~” A loud bang cut through the transmission.
“Just had to say something didn’t you.” Peter reprimanded himself, glancing at the pigeon.
‘Awfully quiet today.’ What a recipe for disaster.
Peter leapt from his perch, swinging towards 71st while getting relentlessly pelted by rain. The poor visibility almost sent him barreling straight into a street lamp as he thwipped around and booked it over apartment buildings. After an exhausting dash across Queens he finally caught up to the chaos, though chaos really couldn’t begin to describe the scene.
Peter had swung down into the street to get some perspective. Through fogged lenses and glaring cop car lights, he could see the busy avenue torn to shreds. Vehicles had been smashed to pieces and frightened people were tearing past him to escape the fray. Peter leaped onto one of the cop cars and glanced down at an officer taking refuge behind the open door of the vehicle.
“Spider-Man!?” He exclaimed, looking simultaneously confused and relieved.
“The one and the only!” Peter declared before swinging away.
Ahead, he could spot two figures actively duking it out across the street. Multicolored Flashes of light reflected off the rippling puddles on the road. Clearly there was some involvement of energy based weaponry, but it was hard to fully grasp what was truly happening.
One figure had a green suit with a protruding black collar. He carried a dangerous energy about him that set Peter’s senses on edge, and the other…
Wait, is that the wizard guy!? Strange doctor! No wait, it’s Doctor Strange. Yeah that sounds right. Doctor Strange!
If the flowing red cape and black mustache wasn’t a dead giveaway, the glowing orange shield he produced was.
So it’s not weapons, it’s magic… Well that’s Just great.
Peter had a weird relationship with the idea of magic, especially after the weird time-traveling thing he witnessed last time he came across Dr. Strange. Speaking of Strange, he looked like he had his adversary somewhat under control, but the path of their fight was putting a lot of civilians in danger. Peter quickly realized he should probably deal with that instead of sitting here trying to make sense of what he was witnessing.
Peter slung himself up, then swooped in and caught a bystander just in the nick of time before some falling rubble could crush her. She thanked him, he nodded and moved on to the next source of distress.
In times like these, the adrenaline seemed to kick in and he just ran with the flow of it. Peter busted through the window of the unstable building and shook off the glass before he began ushering people out. The beams began to lean, and by the time the last person made their way through the door, he was holding a part of the ceiling up. He unfortunately couldn’t stick around for the cheers and thanks, there was still an active fight and the trail of calamity it paved wouldn’t stop until they did.
He approached the fray, scooping up a frightened person or two along the way as wayward blasts of energy threatened to do them potential harm. The obvious target was the magic (probably evil) green man, who laughed like a maniac as he taunted Strange, landing blows and diverting attacks, causing some more unnecessary damage along the way.
Peter went ahead of the trajectory of the battle and primed his webs to launch himself forward, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“Hey Mr. Grinch, Christmas isn’t for three more months!” Peter shouted, knee-slamming into him.
Clearly caught off guard, the guy snarled, wiping his bloody brow. Peter was about to go in for another attack when his momentum was thrown and he was right back where he just stood, orange sparks fizzling away before his eyes.
“Stay out of this! It’s too dangerous!” Strange shouted.
“Dangerous? For all these people, yeah! I don’t think I can sit this one out, Mr. Dr. Strange.”
“You should listen to the sorcerer, boy!” The green-suited guy spat, annoyance radiating from his tone and hatred burning in his eyes.
The man’s hands twisted into a foreign motion. Before Peter could react, a glowing green tendril snatched him up into the air. The magic tendril behaved like a python, wrapping around him, slowly squeezing until it was hard to breathe. He attempted to relax his body and wriggle free, but that only seemed to make things worse. All he had left to do was try and think of a solution as the air in his lungs was slowly squeezed out.
Peter managed to narrowly slip one hand out of the confines of the coils and shakily aim his webshooter. Through lightheadedness and slowly constricting vision, he fired, sending a ball of webbing straight into the face of his attacker. While the man was distracted trying to pry the silk from his eyes, Strange did something to neutralize the tendril and bail him out of the stranglehold.
“Thanks!” He shouted breathlessly.
Peter didn’t waste any time, leaping to another building, dipping to a position behind the green wizard. He precisely shot two webstrings at the man’s forearms and pulled back, looping both strands around his wrists.
“Can’t use your spells without your fancy hand gestures, huh?” He gibed, planting his feet and yanking harder as the villain resisted.
Strange used his own fancy tendrils to string up the guy’s legs. The fight really seemed to be going their way until Peter’s webbing fizzled into green dust and Strange’s confines snapped.
“No one can match the power of Baron Mordo, the true sorcerer supreme!”
What a lame name. Peter thought as he tumbled backwards.
The Baron Mordo quickly rose high above them, casting a menacing glow. Dr. Strange opened up one of his sparkling portals but something was clearly off. It acted oddly, almost as if it was glitching in real-time. The orange sparks crackled and fizzed, slowly being replaced by a wild viridescent green. Then another portal appeared, and another, and another.
“He’s corrupting my magic! Get out of here!” Strange yelled in a strained voice.
As vortices began surrounding them, suddenly heeding the sorcerer’s warning seemed like the best course of action. Peter stumbled across a roof, narrowly avoiding a newly formed portal before leaping into a swing, but as his momentum grew, so did a swirling vortex in front of him.
With no time to abort, Peter fired a web blindly backwards in an attempt to divert his motion, but it was too late. He held onto the strand for dear life, however his body was already within the grasp of the portal. The force dragging him backwards was far beyond anything he anticipated and his grip began to falter.
There was a pop and a surge of pain through his left shoulder that caused him to lurch his arm and let go. Very suddenly, he was overtaken by vertigo. His senses screamed at him to do something, anything, as he was slung into a milky green abyss.
Before he could even begin to process the situation, the hurricane-like circulation spat Peter straight into a wall. The wind was promptly knocked out of him and when he was finally able to breathe, the air in his lungs felt warmer than before. Peter practically had to peel his soaking back off a slab of concrete.
He flopped onto the ground, wincing from the pain that began creeping into every fiber of his body. He tried to move, but whatever energy he had left escaped him. His racing thoughts turned into murmurs and his vision began to blur. A heavy drowsiness set in and before he could come to his senses, darkness overwhelmed him.
~
Peter woke up with a pounding headache and a dryness in his throat. He was pretty sure his shoulder was dislocated, and he was also pretty sure that it was the least of his problems right now.
He carefully opened his eyes, only to be blinded by a bright blue sky filtering through a wavering shadow. When his vision finally adjusted, he realized he must have hit his head pretty hard because why was he seeing palm tree leaves?
He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck with his functional hand and squinting his eyes.
No, that was definitely a palm tree. Why a Palm tree? He wasn’t sure. Why should anything make sense? He was probably still unconscious right now, or dead.
Actually, scratch that thought, he was in way too much pain to be anything other than awake.
He also took note of the sudden change in temperature and atmosphere. It was definitely hotter than before and whatever amount of time he was out was long enough for his suit to dry a little.
Peter looked back at the cracked wall, marveling at the fact that he wasn’t smashed like an insect, and resolved to scope around the place.
He glanced up at the building he had pancake-splattered onto when the portal spat him out. It wasn’t that tall but he figured he might be able to get a decent vantage point from up top. He leapt onto the wall, his two feet and one hand sticking to the stucco.
Oh. Right.
Peter glanced down at his left arm, which uselessly flopped to his side. He had no clue how he was supposed to snap it back into place, (or if that was even a thing,) so he was forced to do an awkward hopping motion in order to scale the side of the building.
It hurt like a son of a gun, and the fact that it felt like summer right now wasn’t making things any less exhausting.
When he finally pulled himself over the top of the wall, he paused to catch his breath. He definitely needed the air, because what he saw when he stood up promptly took his breath away.
Before him sprawled an expanse of beige and white buildings strewn as far as the eye could see, fading into a foggy horizon. Tall palm trees twisted into the sky and cars lined up on a busy interstate below. The sun hung low and everything was cast in a hazy sheet of amber. It looked like something straight out of a post card. For where, he wasn’t certain.
He spun around to get the full view of his surroundings, hoping to see some type of familiar landmark to queue him in on his location, but nothing stuck out. There was a somewhat distant city skyline of silver and white scrapers, but he didn’t recognize it. His only potential indicators were street signs and license plates he was too high up to see.
He swung to an overpass below with one arm, trying and failing to maintain balance as he whipped around then landed with a hard thunk.
Pushing himself back to his feet was more of a chore than he’d like to admit, but once he was up, he could get a good look at the interstate signs.
110 South
San Pedro
…
What?
Okay, he must really be losing it.
Peter leaned dangerously far over the railing to glance down at the lines of cars caught in a heavy bout of traffic. As they crawled by, he got a solid view of the white plates. In lieu of the gold bands and dark blue lettering he was familiar with, red cursive above the numbers spelt out California.
A wave of immediate panic surged through him.
Holy shit.
He knew he wasn’t in New York but having it spelled out directly really allowed the realization to wedge itself into the corners of his brain and a myriad of worries came spiraling in with it.
He wasn’t just halfway across the country; he was on the complete opposite end of the United States with no money, no phone, and no way of getting home.
Peter Parker was stranded in California.