Chapter Text
Peter's eyes slowly peel open, his head feels like it's coming back from a bad high, and his senses are buried under a deep layer of haze. A blaring shrill screams through his ears as if coming from inside of his skull. His eyes can't make out anything around him, they dart in and out of focus causing a migraine that Peter thinks is worse than high hell. He shuts his eyes and presses his palms against them, in hopes that the pressure dulls the ache. The spinnerets in his wrists are sore and raw, most likely due to the fight that made him end up here. Where is here? After what feels like hours the ringing subsides and slowly creeps to a whisper in the back of his mind.
He decides it's been time enough for his eyes to adjust and slowly opens them, careful to avoid another sensory overload. As he takes in his surroundings he notices the dilapidated walls and street, he's outside, probably in an alley. The surrounding infrastructures look old, maybe gothic. Peter doesn't really know the different building terms, but gargoyles and dark brick seem pretty gothic to him. Thick fog pools along the ground, licking at the edge of his face as he lies on the muggy concrete. A decently sized crater is formed around him making it seem like he crashed down from somewhere. What happened? Where was Dr. Strange?
“Docto-ACK” he buckles in, grasping his midsection, as searing pain shoots through his abdomen. He's not bleeding, but he knows what a broken rib feels like and it happens to feel a lot like this. ‘Today just keeps getting better and better’ he thinks coldly to himself. ‘can’t save yourself if you just lay here I guess’ Sucking in sharply with his teeth he braces to stand then flails for a wall, or anything really, to brace on. His hand lands on some sort of crate and he hoists himself up.
Just as he pulls himself off the ground and onto his knees a sharp twang of pain shoots through his abdomen once again.‘Oh come the hell on, just my luck I swear’ he grits to himself. As Peter catches his breath he considers his surroundings again. ‘Where am I?’ New York doesn't look this sad; he's pretty sure of that. Peter slowly fills his lungs with air and leans against the grimy crate for support “Doctor strange?” it's barely a whisper, almost unintelligible compared to the hounding sounds of the city.
Wait. He wasn't in a city though, he was at the Statue of Liberty with Peter 2 and 3. Where is he? “Ned? MJ?” These aren't the sounds of New York, as odd as that sentence sounds, after you get used to a place it's hard to forget the odd details. This mystery place sounds darker, a constant rumble coming from nowhere in particular. Police sirens and gunshots ring out far more often than normal, making the streets of queens seem like a vacation in comparison. This isn't New York.
He stumbles his way through the alley, legs are cut up but ultimately fine, and makes it halfway through before he realizes that his spider suit is still on. Wearily, he reaches for his face, scared because he has no idea how long he's been out for, and feels his mask. Relief washes over him, at least no one unmasked him.
He ducks behind a dumpster and carefully peels his suit off, careful not to jostle his ribs, and looks at the damage as he pulls his undershirt up. Purple and green bruises spot his entire chest while blood crusts over small scrapes. The gruelly sight is not the worst that he's seen, that title is reserved for the fight with Thanos, but the damage is still pretty severe. Peter needs to wrap his ribs so they set correctly, he won't be able to do anything useful if his torso is contorted.
He slips the bottoms of the suit under his pants and puts on his shirt. The nano tech spider fuses around his wrists, almost like bangles, and hides under the sleeves. The suit's sleeves poke out from his shirt a little bit, but it's nighttime so hopefully it won't be a problem. As Peter silently thanks himself for wearing long sleeves under his suit this time he pushes himself off of the ground once again and continues to stumble out of the alley.
“You good kid?” A deep maybe even mechanical voice calls out. Peter stumbles and falls catching himself on his knees. His senses must be shot. Peter didn't feel him.
“Yeah” He wheezes out, more of a breath than a real comment.
“So that to me sounds like a lie if I've ever heard one, look im going to take you to the clinic-”
“d’nt ave m’ney” he gasps out. He turns his head to catch a glimpse at whoever appeared out of nowhere and finds a bright red mask staring back at him.
“Alright yeah I really don’t care, it's a free clinic you know. It's been here for years.” The gruff man steps up behind Peter and picks him up like a limp noodle. Mr. Man, as Peter dubbed him, jostled him into a bridle cary and started off, Peter doesn't know as to where because he was fading in and out of consciousness the entire time.
_____________________
By the time Peter wakes up it's daytime, well, as daytime as wherever-he-is can get. It's still dark outside, muggy, cloudy, but not raining yet, the slow rumble persists. Peter lifts his arms to rub the sleep from his face but the movements makes known to a foreign object on his chest. Peter's head shoots down catching his chest shirtless and wrapped with bandages. The thread torn pants that he was wearing have been replaced with sweats and the suit is gone. ‘My suit, where's my suit!?’ He throws his body out of the bed, uncaring for the pain that shoots up through his chest and the IV sticking from his arm. He reaches down to take it out when suddenly a woman bursts into the room.
“Kid I swear if you rip out that IV you wont get another one” She looks mad, a bit young, brown hair and a jersey accent. ‘Jersey!? Why do I have to be in Jersey?’
“I-I-”
“I-I-I DON'T CARE, we've run low on PIVs, so I cannot deal with a kid being dramatic right now. Understand? Don't take it out, you still have a bit more of this IV left and I don't wanna waste it.” She hounds out, more exasperated than angry Peter notices after she's stopped yelling. His spider senses stall to a small hum in the back of his neck as if to say…
she’s okay she’s nice
“Im sorry ma’am, its just that uhh, well-”
“Kid I don't care about who, what, when, where or why you came in here, your personal life is just that, yours. Your suit is on the bedside. You would have seen it if you hadn't freaked out” she mumbles the last bit under her breath. “I’d suggest staying for a night or two but no one listens to me. Just promise me that you'll stay outta trouble for the next 2 months. It takes awhile for bones to heal ya’ know.”
“Yes ma’am”
“Okay just stay as long as you need, but at least as long as it takes for your IV to run out, press the call light when it's about done please and thanks.” After that she leaves out of the door and Peter can hear her flats tack across the floor as she runs to the next rousing patient's room.
Peter decides that “Don't take the IV out” does not mean stay put, so he finds himself looking for his old clothes and a bag to hide his suit in. Luckily for him there was a bag next to the bedside, probably courtesy of the nice-mean lady. As he continues rummaging around, careful to not mess up his IV, he starts to wonder about where exactly he is. ‘Where exactly did Dr.Strange go? Okay last thing I remember is Peter 1 and 2, they were fighting, no, wait. I won that fight.’ He remembers that at least. ‘I was at the top of the statue, Dr. Strange was there, he was talking. What was he saying?’ Peter opens a drawer and finds some granola bars ‘THE WORLD! That's right the world was tearing, it was ending. I wanted people to forget, if they forgot me then the world would heal. Strange didn't like that he didn't want me to have to be alone forever. Dr. Strange wanted to give me a new chance, so he sent me away, somewhere where I can be Peter without threat.’ Oh no. He was completely alone here, somewhere new where no one from home has ever been before. As the gravity settles on Peter his legs start getting weak. Quickly, before he can fall onto the floor, he sits on the bed. Why did he agree to this, where is he?
After his slightly stress-inducing realization he notices the IV getting close to being done. Peter had found a bag so he was good to leave in his opinion. He presses the call light and a new person comes in after about 15 more minutes, this time a man. The nurse, Peter assumes, takes his IV out and tosses him a shirt. Peter had honestly forgotten he wasn't wearing one. The nurse lets him on his way after giving him the green light and Peter walks through the, surprisingly clean, clinic halls.
He eventually makes it outside and his eyes don't have to do much work adjusting to the new light due to the naturally gloomy ambiance this strange city has. He assumes it's past noon, but he can't really tell because the clouds are almost completely blocking out the sun. Buildings loom over him, all as dreary and sad as the ones he found himself surrounded by in the alley. The roads smell like rot and mold and the air is a sticky humid mess. As Peter wanders down the trash littered streets, side stepping any suspicious looking individuals, he wonders about what exactly he was going to do now. He has no money, knows no one, and probably doesn't exist here. He needs to find shelter for the night. ‘Okay make a plan that's where all good things start, a plan. Right?’
‘Step one’ Peter decides ‘get shelter, that's important. I could probably crawl up the side of some condemned offices or something. Step two: get a supply of food. Food costs money so I guess I would have to get a job. That would mean I need to exist so I need an ID of some kind. Okay Step two: get a fake ID. Step three: get a job. Step four: get food, I guess I could get water then too. Haha two birds with one stone, I guess… not really.’ Peter trudges down the dark road, he's been wandering around aimlessly for a few hours and it's nearly nighttime. He's only been almost mugged twice but that can most likely be attributed to the fact he looks like he has nothing on him and not his Amazing luck. He decides that this side of the city looks a lot nicer than where he started out from so he starts to look for abandoned buildings he could inhabit.
The buildings here, he notes, are a bit more modern than where he started out from. Still a very gothic vibe, with the gargoyles and all that, but the stone sides are less grimy and a tad bit more taken care of. It's no Greenwich Village but it's going in the right direction. He spots a relatively old but safe building that looks to be boarded up and decides that this will be a good enough home base for the time being.
watch out
His spider senses slowly prick him into awareness. ‘Something’s not right’ Peter thinks to himself. Suddenly, he hears a gun cock. Now, it's not like he heard zero muggings his entire day of wandering streets, actually there were quite a few, but when he did try to step in and help one kid getting mugged just tried to rob Peter in thanks. this one was different though, there was a gun involved, a loaded and cocked one at that. He had to do something, this might not be his city but he's still a decent person. With all that being said he runs to the next alley over and sees an older man dressed in some sort of suit, ‘maybe he's a waiter?’ getting surrounded by 5 men, 2 of which had guns. The waiter, to his surprise, looked extremely calm.
“Hey, ever heard of respect for your elders?” Peter shouts into the alley, making his stance as large as possible to look intimidating. This action, however, strains his ribs, which have yet to fully heal. ‘If these ribs don't heal by tomorrow, I’m cooked’ Peter thinks to himself.
“Get outta here kid, bats aint here right now, no one to protect your stupid ass from getting killed.” thug number one, now named dumb-head by Peter, laughs out. ‘Who in the world is bats?!’
“I can protect myself, thank you very much!”
“Whatever you say kid” one of the gun wielding thugs, dubbed idiot squared, shoots at Peter. Peter’s senses, now working at full capacity thanks to the IV and granola bar, allows him to dodge the bullet. Before any other thug can react negatively Peter shoots a web and apprehends the gun. ‘Please don' t let them correlate that the webs came from me.’ he reprimands himself after he remembers he's not in the suit. He decides that no one can really leave conscience now, in fear that they might remember his face. Idiot squared comes charging at him after his gun got stolen and Peter grabs Idiot Squared’s hands and uses the momentum to swing Idiot squared into a wall. Thug 2 and 3 come at him at the same time as gun thug number 2 points at Peter to shoot again. Time slows down as Peter maneuvers between thug 2 and 3, his spider senses trill and tell his body where to move. He trips thug 2 with his left leg then socks thug 3 square in the jaw.
HELP HIM
His senses screech in the back of his mind, then he hears it. The next bullet rings out, but it's not aimed at Peter. It's aimed at the poor waiter. Peter launches himself at the waiter, knocking the man down and probably un-setting his newly set ribs. ‘Shit that hurts like a bitch.’ The second gun thug looks scared at the speed Peter was able to get to the waiter and tries to run ‘dumb ass I can obviously catch you ’Peter catches the man then promptly knocks him out. When all is done he puts the men into a pile, takes the guns and empties the cartagies into the nearest dumpster.
“Im really sorry about that sir,” Peter apologises to the waiter as he offered a hand at picking up the groceries he had been carrying.
“It's quite alright, I should be thanking you.” The kind waiter says in a thick accent, most likely British.
Safe
“Theres no need for thanks sir, any kind person would do what they could in a situation like that.” Peter notes the kind appearance of the gentleman, and strange reaction of his senses. They haven’t acted like this to anyone but aunt May and the Peters before. Mr. Stark, as kind as he was, never triggered the sense. Most likely because of the gallant escapades that he drug Peter into.
“Your skills seem to stem from situations like those in particular.” The waiter smiles at him, albeit suspiciously. As if he was saying ‘I know you fight regularly’.
“Oh well,” Peter sheepishly answers “I had some classical combat training when I was a bit younger, my relatives were in the army. Muscle memory must have kicked in.” It's a scrappy excuse at best and Peter hopes it can get him by for the time being.
“I understand your hesitation to tell me the full truth. No matter, thank you very kindly young sir.” Peter really needs to work on his lying skills. The older waiter starts to walk off, but Peter is not about to let some old, probably really smart, man walk around wherever-he-is this late at night.
“Please let me help you home” Peter asks as he transfers a grocery bag from his arms “it’s late out and I really wouldn’t like it if you got hurt. It’s not all that safe around here”
“Alright then” the waiter smiles and heads off another bag to Peter “my car is just in this garage. If you would be so kind as to follow?” the man starts to walk off toward a newer looking building, built to match the surrounding aesthetic. It’s tall and looks to be relatively taken care of. By the time they’ve reached the waiter's car, a very nice car at that, Peter is starting to like this man’s company. Though seemingly stoic he’s quite funny, he must have some kids, maybe grandkids.
“Oh wow this is a nice car Mr uhhh… oh I’m sorry I never caught your name” Peter realizes.
“Pennyworth, but please call me Alfred.” The man muses “Thank you for the compliment, this car is not mine however, it’s my employer's. I was out buying him groceries for the manor I work at.” It hits Peter then that rather than a waiter this man was a butler. “It would appear that I have failed to catch your name as well, what shall I address you by?”
“Oh, my name is Peter” he sees no real reason to lie, and Mr Pennyworth would most likely be able to tell he was lying anyways. He also has this odd sensation, almost like no matter what he can't lie to this man.
“Thank you Peter” Mr. Pennyworth opens up the back of the car and starts loading the groceries in. Once they finish Peter closes the trunk.
“Alright then Mr.Pennyworth, please get home safe” he smiles at the man, happy to have done at least one thing right in this grimy city. It’s right then that his stomach betrays him and makes a deep rumble. An IV and granola at the start of the day wasn’t really enough to sustain his super metabolism, it must be working twice as hard to fix his fractured bones.
“Young Peter, I understand that it might not be the wisest to join strangers in their cars, however I would like to invite you to the manor for some food” Peter doesn’t want to be a bother and is about to reject the man’s offer when, as if reading his mind, the man interjects “do not worry about being a bother, the masters are not home at the moment and I would like to have another hand to help at the manor” oh, he was offering Peter a job ‘that’s really nice of him, I guess that checks off step three, but can I really tru-’
Safe, trust
‘Well that answers that’ Peter smiles back at the man, “Would that really be alright?”.
“It would be more than alright, we can discuss further details at the manor if you would take up my offer” Mr.Pennyworth smiles again and steps into the driver seat, motioning toward the passenger side for Peter. Peter, thinking this might be too good an opportunity to pass, throws his backpack onto his shoulder, gets into the nice car and lets the man drive him to wherever this manor is located.
_____________________
When they approach a large gate the realization that Peter has skipped step two, get an ID, and is about to get interviewed for a job at some sort of prestigious manor sets in. ‘CRAP! I look trashy at best right now, don’t have money, don’t have ID, if these people hire me they’re probably the dumbest people in the world.’
The manor approaches from the distance, a thick fog wraps itself up and around the house. Though extremely nice the manor still carries the same dreary mood the rest of the city holds. The fences and ornate stone carvings plastered on the side of the vast building gives it a scary yet regal look. Peter has been to many nice buildings, Stark tower and the Baxter building are hard to beat when it comes to imposing aura, but this house has something different about it. The tower was tall, but it was mostly offices, it wasn't all just a house. The manor on the other hand was huge and there were no offices or lab employees to make it feel crowded.
The car pulls around the back into the garage and Peter gets led inside by Mr. Pennyworth. Joselling his backpack on his shoulders, Peter balances multiple grocery bags trying to get a better view of the large house. His eyes trail along the walls and up to the ornate ceiling. ‘This place is huge’
“This manor has been in the family for generations,” Mr. Pennyworth says after watching Peter's eyes explore the walls. They enter the expansive kitchen and Peter helps unload and put away the groceries. The pantry was large and there were two fridges, one large walk in and one average sized one. “The larger appliances are for the many different social gatherings Mr.Wayne, my employer, hosts” Mr. Pennyworth explains as he sets down a sandwich in front of Peter.
“Thank you sir.” Peter says as they sit down at a small servants table in the kitchen. The sandwich is one of the best that Peters ever tasted, maybe even rivaling Mr. Delmar's. When they finish eating Peter asks “Mr. Pennyworth sir-”
“Please call me alfred”
“Okay then Mr.Alfred, you said that you needed another hand to help around the manor correct?”
“That is correct, yes.”
“Was that a position offering, or were you just being polite?” Peter's hands fidget along the hem of his shirt, he doesn't want to tell this nice man that he doesn't exist, nor does he want to let Mr. Pennyworth know that he's a mutant. This world might be new, but people in Peter's world did not take kindly to his kind.
trust
‘Oh, will you SHUT UP’
“That was a position offering, though I would like to preface that my employer is not currently home so this would be a trial period until he returns to solidify the position officially. Are you offering to take up the position?”
“I would love to take the position, but I don't currently have my ID.” ‘Okay, how am I going to spin this?’He traces his fingers along the nanotech cuffs covering his spinnerets then takes a breath, “I lost all of my personal information when I came here, I'm currently on the streets. I'm sorry if this means you can't hire me.” not technically a lie but not the full truth either.
“That is fine young Peter” Mr. Pennyworth smiles, “there are many tragedies that strike the inhabitants of Gotham, that does not mean we need to rid those with potential of opportunity.” Peter's heart soars, ‘I wish Jameson was this nice’ his last job, though short lived, was not the most worker friendly.
“T-Thank you Mr. Pennyworth, that's so kind of you. I promise you that I'll do my best with whatever it is you decide to make me do.” Peter is grinning from ear to ear at this point, truly happy that he found the single kindest man in the worst city in the world. Wait he said the city's name was Gotham. Peter was not a geography buff, but he was pretty sure he'd never heard of a city called Gotham in New Jersey. ‘I need to get some internet access and look up where I am’
“Thats good to hear, I would like to get you some identification some time soon though. Just for ease of mind and paperwork of course.”
“Oh I’ll be able to get some ID soon, you won't have to worry about that” He can't let Mr.Pennyworth find out that he just straight up doesn't exist. ‘This city seems sketch enough to have at least one good fake ID place’
“Do you have any prior work in house keeping?” ‘oh, we're getting into the interview now I guess’ Peter thinks to himself.
“No sir, but I did intern at 2 tech firms for the majority of my high school years, I did a lot of serving whilst there. Things like serving coffee and running paper work I mean” Peter tries to play down his work with Stark and at the Baxter building, making it seem more like a service job than actual tech work. As nice as those labs seem on college applications, for a serving job they don't feel as relevant.
“Alright then, oh I'm sorry to not have asked earlier, how old are you?”
“18” There really isn't any real reason to lie, but 18 sounds a bit better than 17. Technically he's 22 but Peter thinks that he's a bit too young looking to say that. “Oh and before you continue I forgot to tell you my last name. It's Parker, Peter Parker.”
“Thank you Mr. Parker, you’ll stay in the manor for your time here, I'll show you to your quarters if you wish.”
“Yes thank you sir” Mr.Pennyworth gets up and Peter stands to follow, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. He gets led out of the kitchen and through the hallways until they enter the largest foyer he's ever seen. There are two sets of stairs both leading to the second floor with a balcony looking above it. There's a Grand chandelier glittering down from the ceiling. Oil painted photos framed in gold coat the walls, shining as they walk past. They climb the first set of stairs and head closer to the back of the house passing grand tapestries and ornate busts of important looking individuals. As Peter silently gasps at the walls he notices a large painting over a fireplace, he can't make out the details because they pass by too quickly, but he catches what could have been a man with multiple people, maybe children, next to him.
‘Is this what Mr.Stark meant by old money?’ Peter used to give Mr.Stark a hard time anytime he heard him diss on “old money” because Mr.Stark was, in fact, old money.
[“It's the aesthetic, underoos, not the actual title” “whatever you say trust-fund’ SMACK “OW! dude that hurt” peter rubs his head where the pen hit “respect your elders parker”]
He finds himself smiling thinking about the interaction, he hasn’t missed Mr. Stark’s company this much in a while.
“This is the serving quarters, currently only I reside here. You can call it home now as well.”
“Youre the only one working here?!” Peter almost yells, he catches himself and brings his voice back down. “This house is massive, how have you been able to keep up with all of this work?”
“I appreciate the concern, but I've managed this home alone for years. I am, however, growing older in years and your extra hands would be very helpful. I do hope you chose to continue working here after your trial period”
“Of course Mr.Pennyworth, I'm just surprised that you've managed a house this large for so long. I guess I have a lot to work up to then?” Peter smiles up at the British man with a newfound respect. Not that he had none before, but the realization that Alfred manages this gigantic home all by himself just adds to the fact.
“I'll see you in the morning Mr.Parker, please meet me in the kitchen by 6 for a rundown. There should be some clothing in the cupboard for you. You may wear those for now, but be warned, there is a uniform that you will be required to wear while on the clock. I will schedule a fitting for tomorrow so that you may be presentable when the masters come home.” Peter mentally catalogs this information and nods along.
“Thank you again Mr. Pennyworth, you have no idea how amazing this opportunity is for me.”
“Your welcome young parker, goodnight” At that Mr. Pennyworth leaves down the hallway they came from. Peter takes this time to take in this new room. Though it’s obvious that it hasn't been in use for some time, there is no dust to be found. ‘He's really good at his job’ Peter notes to himself as he circles the room. It's not as ornate as the rest of the manor, the walls are pretty plain, just a simple beige paintjob, no intricate wallpaper, it's nice all the same. There's a twin sized bed in the corner next to a small window with its curtains drawn. The room is decently small, two beds could probably fit, and, judging by the small indents on the wood floor, it looks as if there used to be. ‘There must have been more help at some point in time’ Peter muses to himself.
He saunters over to the bed and plops onto the old mattress, throwing his backpack onto the floor next to him. The bed's wire-like frame creaks under the unexpected weight. After he settles he remembers that he's hurt. Peter lifts his shirt and takes a look at the wrappings. They're still wrapped around him pretty tight, considering his day that's a small miracle. His abdomen hurts a significant amount less, but it's only been a day ‘Must not have been as broken as I thought. Probably just a hair-line.’ He decides to leave the wrappings overnight and take them off in the morning. ‘I'll re-wrap it if it's really bad I guess.’ he lays down in the old bed and drifts off into sleep.
_____________________
Alfred has worked for Bruce Wayne since before Bruce was even born. He was the only help, along with dear Dr.Thompkins of course, who stayed after the tragic passing of the late Mr and Mrs Wayne. This is all to say that Alfred is old. Most definitely not thinking about retirement quite yet, but old nonetheless. He feels his muscles pull tight as he reaches high shelves, sometimes there is a slight ringing in his left ear that his doctors say just comes with old age. His bones creak as he walks, and joints pop and crack as he bends over. He loves his job but understands that he might need to think about some sort of replacement, at least for temporary cases when his hips give out or his head feels light. Finding a replacement, however, has proved to be a difficult task. Throughout the 2 month process thus far, he has found no one suitable for the position, No one he thinks he can trust with the Waynes night time secrets. There have been a few select individuals who almost made the cut, however they lacked any kind of training that they might need for the Waynes. Not just in house keeping, Alfred could teach that, but in combat skills to avoid dangerous situations that seem to follow anyone in relation to this family. On the brink of defeat, however, a golden strike of luck is shone down. As Alfred is being surrounded in the alley, carefully plotting his escape route, a young silhouette makes itself known. The young boy takes down 5 thugs completely unassisted. Though low level, multiple criminals of any stature would prove difficult to most people, not to this young man however. The boy, most likely a metahuman due to his strength and speed, then saves Alfred's life from a gun that Alfred himself failed to notice. Alfred knew at that moment that he had found his replacement. His willingness to put his life on the line for others combined with the skills to do so made him the perfect candidate for his assistant position. The boy only solidified his position when he offered to help walk Alfred home.
After Alfred returns to the kitchen from showing the boy to his room he makes a quick phone call.
“Master Bruce, I have found my apprentice” He says into the receiver.
“I am very glad, though I thought you gave up on the idea Alfred. What is with the change of mind?”
“The boy has a heart in the correct place, something that is slowly becoming harder to find.” Alfred smiles at his answer, the boy really does have a kind heart, and a kind soul to match it.
“Well there are a few more qualifications I hope he meets, but I trust in your judgment wholly, I'll be back by Thursday. I hope that he continues to meet your standards.”
“He will, goodbye master bruce, have a good evening”
“Goodbye Alfred” Alfred hangs up the phone after that, happy that he found someone like Peter.