Chapter Text
Peter doesn't know when it happened, he's not sure if he got to say goodbye to Ned and MJ(Or if he even deserves to). The spell was supposed to make them forget, to make everyone forget, to save Ned and MJ from their lives being messed up even more by knowing him, because anyone he loves always seems to suffer and almost always die in the end. It started with his parents, then Ben, only to be followed by Tony (His Father), who died in the war because he wanted to bring Peter back (Should have left him dead). Peter had fought in the war, and they'd won, but it didn't quite feel like a win... not without Tony... Peter pushed those thoughts away; he didn't need that right now, and he couldn't handle it, not now Not ever, because right now, Peter needed to figure out where he was. Peter needed to know why everything was clouded in black. So he searched, he racked through his mind to find the answer, anything to give him the slightest bit of an answer... The spell!
Everyone had forgotten who Peter Parker was, and the identity of Spider-Man was unknown. All records were erased, and Spider-Man would continue to be the beloved hero of New York, not the teen who supposedly murdered Mystiro and pretended to be their hero.
It was supposed to be easy, simple even.
It wasn’t simple. The moment the spell took hold, it felt like he was being torn apart piece by piece. His healing factor fought to hold him together, stretching out the agony until it felt like he was being dusted all over again. He didn’t even get the chance to scream before everything went black. The heartbeat he’d always heard — his own constant companion — went silent.
Everything went silent.
The pain stopped.
That was it. That was all Peter remembered about how he ended up floating in this dark abyss. He didn’t know how long he drifted in that silence before he jolted awake, heart hammering frantically in his chest. He tried to inhale — to breathe air that wasn’t there. Something thick surrounded him, pressing in from every direction. He wasn’t just in darkness. He was drowning in it.
His Spidey-sense blared in his skull, horrible and sharp, a migraine made of pure danger. He needed out. Now. But the darkness wasn’t even dark — it was green. A horrible, neon, skin scorching green.
Peter needed to get out of here.
He tried to swim upward, but whatever he was trapped in was thick and heavy, resisting every movement. It forced its way into his lungs, choking him, drowning him from the inside out.
He died without making it a foot from where he’d woken.
Darkness returned — but unlike last time, it didn’t last long.
He woke again with a violent gasp, as if only seconds had passed. Instinct took over. He kicked upward, clawing through the endless dark. Was this his afterlife? A never ending cycle of suffocating, dying, waking, and suffering again? What had he done to deserve this? He’d never killed anyone. He tried to be good. A hero. Tears leaked from his eyes only to be swallowed by the thick, unforgiving substance around him.
He died again after two minutes, lungs burning, having made it only a few feet.
Time after time, he died. He knew he did. He heard his heart every single time — and he heard it stop. Sometimes for seconds. Sometimes for minutes. Always starting again, dragging him back into the cycle.
Slowly, anger began to grow.
It started small, a spark in the suffocating dark. Then it stayed. Then it spread. Soon it burned hotter than the rage he’d felt when Aunt May died. And with that anger came strength. He pushed farther. Harder. The green around him thinned. A faint light broke through the murk. He finally saw it — the sickly neon liquid he’d been drowning in. If it was even liquid at all.
Not long after that, he broke the surface.
He gasped, real air filling his lungs for the first time. The Iron Spider legs burst from his back, stabbing into the rock around him and hauling his body up from the green goo. PAIN so much Pain came from his back.
But Peter couldn’t focus on that right now, No Peter had to get out. He resorted to ignore the searing pain in his back(That was slowly starting to dim) and look around the place to find out where he woke.
Peter found that was in a tunnel — a deep, narrow shaft with a faint light far above. The walls were tight, barely giving him enough room to move. The Iron Spider legs shifted behind him, trembling slightly before they began to help, anchoring into the stone and pulling him upward inch by inch.It Hurt? Why, why was it pulling on his back so much?
The air was cold and stale. The green goo clung to him, dripping off in thick ropes as he climbed. Every movement felt heavy, like the substance still wanted to drag him back down.
The tunnel stretched endlessly above him, but it was the only direction he had. Up. Toward the light. Toward anything that wasn’t the suffocating green.
Now that Peter was a few feet(About 4-5) above the pool he stopped to breath, catching his breath and trying to slow his heart rate.
Peter looked down again. The goo was bubbling, almost like a boiling pit. Was it Radioactive?!
Peter Figured he’d be alright since well, Radioactive Spider-Bite and stuff.
Peter liked closer at the pool and the cave around it witch was literally shaped just like a tube a very, very Very Rocky tube.
The Sharp rocks jutted out and occasionally scratched Peter(occasionally as in thirty seconds ago while he was climbing like a mad pigeon… Or spider, you get the reference.
Once Peter decided that is was a deep pool of demon water(Monster Barf, Don’t question me.) Peter Began to continue his climb. But now that (most) the panic had died down Peter was left with the continuous aching in his back… mostly in his back, it came from his whole body, but mostly his back.
After what felt like five BILLION And, No. He’s not being that dramatic (Yes, yes, he is. It took like five minutes.) years, Peter finally reached the top of the tunnel.
The cave was large and kind of dark. There were old beams holding up the walls and some of the lanterns were on(barley) though most were broken and out. The room was cluttered with tools, including an area that had a bunch of tec built up on a wooden platform and… Peter froze. There were old skeletons littering the room. He counted seven total body’s.
Peter closed his eyes, listening. No heartbeats, no breathing. He was alone.
His Spider sense was quiet.
Once Peter deemed it was safe he finished pulling himself from the hole. The iron spider legs helping him out a bit(They do almost all the work). As soon as he was set down by the iron spider, his legs gave out, shooting pain up his body.
Peter hit the ground softly as he just stared forward in surprise. Why did he feel so weak, he wasn’t weak. He was Spider-Man, he was strong and brave. Not weak and scaredHe was so scared So Peter go up, forcing himself to move as he stumbled past a few body’s (For some reason seeing them made him want to cry) and to the area filled with tools and clutter, hoping to find something he can use to help him find a way out.
So, with no trouble nearby, he reaches forward to grab onto something for support with walking only to pause.
Was his hand… smaller?
Peter hadn’t noticed it at first. But now that he’s thinking about it, really thinking about it… he’s small. Too small. The last scraps of anger he’d been clinging to dissolve as confusion takes over. He’s small. His hand is smaller than it should be. He’s eighteen, and yet he’s staring at the hand of a child — his hand, from years ago, impossibly real and impossibly wrong and-No! Nope Nope NOPE not doing that, not gonna think or go into that until he’s forced to.(The perfect solution, ignore your problems till they disappear!). And so, Peter continued walking to the only computer he could see, even if it was older than Steve at this point.
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Peter had been has been sitting on a pile of broken tools and boards of wood in front of the most ancient computer he’s seen in his whole life… okay that’s a lie, Peter did get to see a huge amount of Hydra’s computers and old, old tec when he went on a recovery mission with Tony, Nat, and Steve. Though he wasn’t alone that time, now though. Now he was, he was alone without his friends(Parents) here to help Hug him.
Peter’s piecing things together, slowly and shakily. First, he’s doomed—no surprise there. Two: he’s definitely in the wrong universe; Geography is of all the maps he looked up(more than 13) are wrong. Three: he’s trapped in the too-small, too-young body he thought he’d left behind. Four: fear sits heavy in his chest, sharp and childish, and he hates how close he is to crying. Five: his memories flicker like a dying lightbulb—present, but unstable.
Technically he found out that this cave was an old mine and they shut it down when a pocket of hydrogen sulfide or methane(He didn’t care which) ruptured unexpectedly. Miners were overwhelmed in seconds. The gas must have spread too fast for rescue teams to enter safely so the company sealed the mine to prevent further deaths. But sense the mine was no longer toxic to anyone and probably only still abandoned because it was forgotten about Peter figured it didn’t matter much.
Then Peter heard something. He realized he was right to keep listening. Even without his Spidey sense buzzing, he heard a heartbeat. Sudden. Slow. Too close.
Peter hissed under his breath — actually hissed — and froze. He’d never done that before. Instinct, something new and wrong, crawled under his skin. He shook it off, stood, and slipped behind the desk just as the heartbeat drew nearer.
He crouched low. Waited.
Footsteps entered this section of the cave. Things were kicked aside and old papers were rustled — someone was picking them up, flipping through them, scanning them like they meant something.
Peter wonder id they were Alien or human?
Peter eased one eye around the edge of the desk.
A tall man. Maybe six feet. Wearing a red helmet — definitely a mask, not a face. Human, or at least human shaped enough to count.
The man tossed the papers back onto the desk. Peter ducked down again the instant the red helmet tilted even slightly in his direction.
The man moved slowly around the cave, steps cautious, deliberate. He didn’t linger anywhere else — the only place he stopped was the very desk Peter was hiding behind. The one Peter had turned on. Great. Brilliant. He’d basically lit a neon sign that said someone was here.
The man hummed under his breath, shuffling through the desk’s contents for a few minutes before stepping away from the computer. His boots scraped against the stone as he circled the desk, heading toward the deep pit filled with that green liquid — the stuff Peter still insisted should be called monster barf or something equally dignified.
If the man turned around now, he’d see him. No question.
Trying not to make a sound, Peter edged sideways, keeping low, trying to slip out of sight. His Spidey sense wasn’t screaming danger, but it was buzzing — a warning, a nudge, something he couldn’t quite interpret in this too small body.
Not to mention… he was still in his Spider Man suit. He hadn’t had the bandwidth to worry about that when he first woke up, but now that the panic was settling into something sharper, he realized he should’ve been a lot more concerned about that fact.
Instead of slipping away cleanly, his too small body betrayed him. He stumbled backward, hit the desk, and knocked it just enough to make it scrape loudly across the stone.
The man spun instantly.
Peter barely had time to think before the red helmeted stranger whipped around, gun drawn from the holster on his thigh in one smooth, practiced motion.
Peter felt the tears instantly, he knew he shouldn’t be this afraid, this scared with a gun being pointed at his head, but he couldn't stop the fear. His tears fell down his face before he could even think about stopping them.
“Shit,” the man muttered, the word sharp but not aimed at him. He holstered the gun fast and dropped into a crouch, hands raised in a slow, careful gesture. “Easy, kid. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Peter shook his head, trying to blink the tears away. He grabbed the edge of the desk and pushed himself upright, but his legs trembled under him like they weren’t built to hold him anymore. Had they always been this weak? Or was it whatever had happened to him making everything feel wrong and unsteady?
He managed to stand for a heartbeat — just one — before his knees gave out. He collapsed forward, catching himself too late, and the stone tore at his skin as he hit the ground with a sharp, involuntary cry that echoed through the cavern.
“Fuck.” The man stood abruptly and hurried over.
Peter flinched hard when he suddenly crouched in front of him.
“I’m sorry, kid,” the man said quickly, pulling off his jacket and holding it out carefully instead of forcing it on him. “Can I help you put it on?”
Peter paused for a moment, confused by the kindness, but he didn’t stop himself from slowly nodding. He was cold. So cold. Any colder and he’d end up slipping into hibernation, and if that happened… who knew what would happen to him then.
“Arms?” the man asked gently.
Peter slowly lifted his small arms, and the man carefully guided them through the oversized sleeves before wrapping the jacket around his tiny body and zipping it up as much as he could without covering Peter’s face.
The warmth hit almost instantly.
Then, after a brief hesitation, the man adjusted Peter carefully so he was sitting on the end of the jacket instead of directly on the rough, rocky ground.
The man frowned as he looked him over properly for the first time, his expression tightening at how small Peter really was up close.
“…Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.
Before Peter could figure out what that expression meant, the man slid one arm carefully behind his back and the other beneath his legs.
“Easy, kid,” he said softly. “I’m gonna pick you up, alright?”
Peter stiffened instinctively but didn’t fight as the man carefully lifted him against his chest, holding him with surprising gentleness.
Once the man had Peter wrapped in his Jacket and comfortably help in his arms he spoke up with a carful tone.
“Can you tell me your name?”
Peter just stared up at the man not sure whether he should lie or tell the truth, but after thinking about it for a few minutes he decides. He pushes his dry throat to cooperate as he opens his mouth to speak
“P-Peter… Parker.”
The man gives Peter a nod. “Well Peter, My name’s Jason, but when I have my mask on I need you to call me Red Hood… or just Hood. Can you do that?”
Peter nodded very seriously, he could do that. He would do that, because Peter vowed never to be the reason someone’s secret identity got revealed.
“Alright kid. I have just a few more questions, to start.”
Jason was silent for a moment before asking the first question, “You got any family?”
“D-dead…”
Jason sighed, “I can't believe I'm about to do this.” He mumbled under his breath, “How do you feel about coming home with me? I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
Safe.
No matter how much Peter wanted to scream, he wasn't ever safe after that stupid spider; he felt himself relax slightly. A promise of being safe…? Peter knows how hopeless that promise is, but he was here. He was in a child's body with no idea why he woke up in that pit. He'd figure it out…Eventually, but for now, maybe he could be safe?
Peter nods.
Jason seemed nice. Something about him also seemed familiar; he reminded him a little of Bucky, that was nice… Peter liked Bucky.
"Hey Pete, Last question, how’d you get in here, the opening’s been sealed for years?”
Peter froze. He forgot about the monster barf pit. (Yes that is the name Peter had chosen for it) Peter looked up at Jason before pointing to the hole in the corner of the cave.
Jason followed his finger to the hole, tilting his head in confusion as he slowly approached to hole, holding Peter a little closer as he go to the edge. The hole was too small for an adult but a young teen or a kid could fit.
Jason looked down the hole, trying to see where it ended. As he saw to pool of liquid below he froze, then after a few tense moments let out a sigh
”Oh, Kid… Let’s get out of here yeah?”
Peter nodded, nuzzling into Jason’s chest, watching with half lidded eyes as Jason began to walk out of the cave.
Jason carried Peter out of the big cave area into smaller tunnels. He noticed plenty of connecting tunnels but Jason seemed to be retracing his steps as he suddenly went down random tunnels. Peter kept looking around, eyes scanning everything in these tunnels. He let his eyes travel lazily along the old beams of wood holding the shaft together, beam after beam passed and Peters eyes drifted closed after a bit.
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Soon, Peter was jolted awake by the cold wind hitting him. His eyes snapped open and he realised that Jason had just exited the cave.
"Sorry there, Pete, didn’t know it’d be this cold, I’m sorry, bud.”
Peter made a small sound, snuggling closer as he slowly looked around at the forest around them. There was no path, no buildings, just a motorcycle by a tree.
“We're pretty far away from Gotham, but it shouldn't take longer than eight hours to get home. I know some shortcuts.”
Peter looked up at Jason as he started to head towards the bike. “Where’s Gotham…?” It didn't sound familiar.
“Huh? Oh, it’s in New Jersey. Where are you from, Pete?”
“New York, Queens.”
“I guess New York is closeish to Gotham.” Jason said as he placed Peter on the bike, sitting behind Peter. “Feel free to sleep. It'll take a while to get to Gotham.” He said as his arms surrounded Peter and held the handlebars. Once he started up the bike, they took off.
Peter couldn't stop the exhaustion he had been fighting off from consuming him once again. He fell into darkness once more, only this time he had someone who would keep him safe, someone who wasn’t nice because they wanted something, Like Beck. Maybe, just maybe, this time Peter could start over?