#and then sad and angry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clovrtree · 3 months

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Peter had never felt more angry at a wizard before in his life until this moment. Certainly a strange thing to think about as he walked tiredly through dark and dreary streets, but nonetheless, it was how he felt.

Doctor Strange- “Call me Stephen.”- had sent Peter Parker to an entirely new universe. At least, that’s what he believed had happened. There wasn’t necessarily an exact answer as to how he ended up here, only a who that was responsible for it. And right now Peter was very angry at that who.

Memories of Titan were shoved to the forefront of his mind, a planet scorched by the sun and catastrophically destroyed by war. It’s destruction was a product of the very war that Peter had been fighting before he-

His footsteps faltered as he remembered his death.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good–” Peter said with a shake in his breath as a sudden fuzziness started crawling up his limbs. His spider-sense was going haywire, overwhelming his senses and leaving the boy a stuttering mess. “I-I don’t- I don’t know what’s happening–” he said frantically as he stumbled to his mentor.

Tony Stark swallowed hard. His face displayed anguish that Peter didn’t want to see. “...you’re alright.” He said all too steadily, like a father comforting a child. When Peter got close enough, he clung to the man, feeling his feet get swept from underneath him in the wind. Tears pricked at the teen’s eyes, grip tight on Tony’s jacket.

“I-I don’t wanna go-” he said through tears, nose becoming congested from the surge of raw fear running through him. His spine tingled, and over Tony’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of his own fingers turning into ash. “I don’t wanna go-” he repeated in a plea. “Please, sir, I don’t wanna go-”

Tony kneeled down, setting Peter on the ground. His hands never left the teen, and the teen never let him go. Peter swallowed roughly, forcing tears back as he looked up at Titan’s yellow sky. It wasn’t the blue one that he so desperately needed to see, the familiar sky of Earth.

He was far from Earth now, and he would never be going back.

Peter turned his gaze back to Tony, looking the man in the eyes and forcing his mouth to work once more. He needed to say something to Tony, tell him anything- he couldn’t let himself die like this in Tony’s arms.

“I’m sorry.”

Not without an apology delivered on the brink of death.

Everything after that was white hot, and he couldn’t recall a single second of his time after turning into ash. All he knew was that he watched Tony become a blur, and then a second later, he was gasping for air and clawing his way onto a rocky New England shore.

The puddle below his heavy foot splashed and soaked the ends of the ratty jeans he had fished out of a dumpster upon arrival. They were far too big for him and sat loose on his hips, but he preferred them instead of walking around in his Iron Spider suit, which still clung to his damp skin underneath his makeshift clothes.

He felt miserable, and if he was soaking wet for much longer, then he would surely be sick. Of course that wouldn’t be a big deal, considering his healing factor. It was still uncomfortable as hell, and he especially didn’t want to be sick in a strange city like this one.

The Gotham Gazette drew his attention, the soaking wet newspaper discarded on the ground up ahead. He hesitantly reached down, picking it up and holding back a wince at the feeling of the damp paper.

Most of the smaller words in the articles were already soaked and smudged away in the rain, but the title and a few headings still boldly displayed themselves. Fourth Arkham Break-Out of the Year. Wayne Enterprises Donates 1.7 Billion to Homeless Shelters Benefiting Crime Alley. Red Hood Busts Human Trafficking Ring in the Harbor.

This city, supposedly called Gotham, sounded rough. The Asylum was experiencing break-outs like a prison, there were known human trafficking rings… at least Wayne Enterprises seemed to be doing something to help the homelessness rates of the city. That was something that Peter had noticed as soon as he made it to the main city from the harbor- the amount of homeless citizens was vastly concerning.

A bit more smudged reading told Peter that it was April third of 2016- a whole two years before Thanos. Before Peter would die. The mere thought of his death once more sent an uncomfortable shiver up his spine, and he was now hyper aware of how dreadful this situation was.

Even worse, he was in New Jersey. Peter had never heard of Gotham, New Jersey, which felt extremely odd. A city with this much crime would surely gather the attention of the Avengers, or some other hero who could help.

Maybe that’s who Red Hood is, Peter thought, dropping the newspaper into a nearby trashcan and continuing his aimless walk. Part of him hoped so, since the person seemed to be doing good work for the city.

The smell of cigarette smoke assaulted Peter’s nose as he passed an alleyway, and he scrunched his face in discomfort. A quick glance that direction showed a group of men wearing stained and torn clothing sitting around a dying out trash fire. His heart gave a pained beat in his chest. Even a second around that small fire would likely warm his senses enough to find a safe place to spend the rest of the night.

Unfortunately for Peter’s senses, his mind was much more rational. These men didn’t know him, and they were much older than him. They likely weren’t keen on sharing, and since they were smoking, Peter didn’t want to sit near that smell for so long.

So he continued.

The teen wasn’t sure exactly how long that he walked, but the moon had shifted quite a lot from its initial position earlier in the night. He caught a glimpse of it through the dreary clouds every so often, rain pelting his face.

“Karen, what kind of info can you pick up?” he mumbled under his breath, and in response, he felt nanobots brushing around his ear until they had made a small bud for him to listen to.

“Hi, Peter. Currently I’m unable to grab any information from the internet, as none of my sources seem to have updated to our current geological location.”

Peter frowned at her response, sticking his hands into the pockets of the stained gray zip-up hoodie he had grabbed when he got the jeans. “That doesn’t make any sense, what’s your database looking like?”

“Looks like it usually does, Peter. However, nothing from my internal storages is aligning with any metadata that I’m receiving from this environment.”

“So.. nothing on Gotham, New Jersey?”

“No, sorry, Peter.”

Peter huffed through his nose, hearing the A.I. go silent in his ear. To anyone who looked close enough, it just seemed like he had one generic-brand earbud. Upon closer inspection, though, anyone could see the small trail of metal going down into his hoodie.

“Run a diagnostic, see what all is online. I’ll try to find you something with internet to connect to.”

The lack of response told the teen that she had started on the diagnostics, so he grew quiet too. He would rather people not think he’s insane for mumbling to himself under his breath.

Eventually, Peter looked up from the sidewalk and paused, a wave of discomfort washing over him. To his right was Gotham Public Library. All of the lights were off inside, but the outdoor ones illuminated a large clock-face reading 3:47.

To his left, a cemetery with tall black metal fences was emitting an eerie fog across the entire half of the street. It went down for at least another block. Just looking at the place of rest made a tingle rush up his spine and to his neck, buzzing there.

Breaking and entering was definitely a crime. Always had been, always would be, even in this city that isn't supposed to exist. Still, Peter was cold and tired, and he just needed to close his eyes for a little bit. If he would be breaking into anywhere, it would be somewhere with the word “Public” plastered above the front door.

Like the Gotham Public Library, how perfect. He skipped up the steps two at a time, standing underneath the large stone awning for a second to enjoy the feeling of no rain! It was great, but now he needed a way inside.

On the front of the building, all of the doors and windows were locked tight, and Peter frowned. Of course a city with this much crime would be under lock and key. He would need a different entrance.

As quietly and inconspicuously as possible, Peter Parker rounded the building twice, looking at windows and potential entrances. Eventually, on his second lap, he spotted a slightly opened window through the heavy rain. Parker luck be damned, he was about to be somewhere warm.

Scaling the wall was effortless with his spider abilities, and fitting through the small window was easy as pie. The boots of his Iron Spider suit landed on a tiled floor of a women's restroom (he only knew that due to the lack of a urinal). A quick glance around the space told him that the lights were motion activated, so he bit the bullet and went to the door. The blinding overhead light activated and he winced, giving himself a small glance in the mirror as he passed.

He had to backtrack his steps, eyes widening when he really took stock of himself. His skin was sheened with sweat and rain, and little cuts and bruises littered his cheeks and forehead. Unzipping the gray hoodie showed the damaged Iron Spider suit, and he frowned at the large gash across his side. It had broken skin, but stopped bleeding a while ago. He hoped it wouldn’t get infected, because even with his healing factor, those were still uncomfortable.

The worst part of his appearance was his hair. The semi-curly brown locks seemed to have gotten.. Longer? Usually he kept his hair cut clean at his ears, but now strands were wisping along the back of his neck. Strangely enough, a large strand on his hairline, right by his temple, was a chalky white color. Reaching up and feeling it revealed nothing, because it felt fine.

This only opened even more questions for the teen, who sighed tiredly through his nose. He just wanted to lay down somewhere. He would assess his situation more in the morning, when the sun was up.

Right now, nothing would make sense due to his exhaustion and temperature. Any thoughts of Doctor Strange, Titan, or Thanos just made him uncomfortable and made no sense. So he dropped it- for now.

Exiting the bathroom quietly, he glanced around. Peter was on the second floor of three it seemed. Nearby, two elevator shafts stuck awkwardly out of the wall. Across the floor, a big staircase would take him either down or up. In the middle of the floor was a big hole that looked out into the bottom floor, and when Peter looked up, he was greeted by a large glass dome.

On a sunny day, this building would be beautiful. He could already imagine it bustling with life. Assuming there was a college nearby, he could see different students sitting at the various tables, couches, and beanbags doing work or reading books of all sorts. This building just felt good, and was such a stark contrast from both the cemetery across the street and the city itself.

A quick surveillance walk around the second floor revealed that there were cameras, but none were active. There were no more motion activated lights either, meaning that Peter was free to roam without drawing any attention from the outside.

“Alright, Karen, let’s hook you up to a computer.” Peter said softly, metal boots padding against the carpeted floor as he walked to a large set of computers across multiple desks. He slid into a chair and typed in the guest login information that was written on a sticky note attached to the monitor.

Using his right hand, he loaded up Google. With his left, he reached down to the actual computer itself, feeling around on the front of the box until he found a USB port. Seconds later, the nanobots on his hands shifted and changed until one finger of the suit was plugged into the computer.

“Diagnostics are complete, would you like to hear them?”

“Mhm.” Peter hummed, typing with one hand and searching up a few key words. Avengers, Tony Stark, Spiderman, Captain America, Iron Man, and Wakanda all resulted in nothing useful. His brows pinched together in concern. None of this stuff seemed to even exist.

“Overall status is 42%. Your web shooters are at a combined capacity of 68%. Your suit sustained severe damage to the primary left side, but there is considerable damage located all over. The suggested course of action is to make repairs as soon as conveniently possible before joining another fight.”

“Thanks, Karen.” he sighed, not happy about the information. It wasn’t all bad, he had much more web fluid than he had originally anticipated. The damage wouldn’t be easy to fix without either a lab, or Tony. Both would be wonderful right about now. “You connected to the internet yet?”

“Yes, are you ready to hear my findings?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Peter Parker was in Gotham, New Jersey. It was the crime capital of the entire world. Despite its high crime rates, it was being watched over by a group of vigilantes, led by one called Batman. The others, with various bat and bird themed names, all worked as a single unit to keep this single city safe. They rarely ever branched out.

The Avengers did not exist. The closest thing was another group of heroes known as the Justice League, which was formed by Batman and two others: Wonder Woman and Superman. They were a heavy mix of people with powers, called Metas, and people without powers, like Batman.

Thanos did not exist. There was never an attack from him or his forces. Instead, there were other contacts with different races and species of aliens from all across the universe. Some of them were members of the Justice League now.

Spiderman did not exist. It didn’t take much to hack into public records, and there was never a Peter Benjamin Parker born in Queens. No one was ever bitten by a radioactive spider, and no one ever became Spiderman.

“Peter?”

He could hear her voice in his ear, but nothing was registering. The pure lack of anything familiar made a dreadful discomfort climb up his back, and his vision got a bit fuzzy.

“Peter, I’m picking up an increased heart rate as well as sporadic brain activity. Would you like for me to alert someone for medical aid?”

“No..” he mumbled. “....people here can’t.. They can’t know I’m not from….” he trailed off, leaning back in his chair and staring at the blurry white computer monitor.

“That you’re from a different universe?”

“..yeah, that.”

Peter’s stay in the library concluded with him taking a short nap in a soft green beanbag, and the lights flickering to life at seven a.m. He shot up from his light sleep, stumbling quickly to his feet. A worker was here, likely to get ready to open for the day. He needed to leave.

His dart across the second floor was silent thanks to his spider enhancements and the Iron Spider suit, and he climbed out the bathroom window without looking back. Maybe next time, he could sleep longer and do less research on his problems.

Looking around, things started to make more sense. This was a different universe. Sure it looked enough like his own, but there were small differences. Logos for big brands were slightly altered, celebrities looked different and some didn’t even exist. Catchy songs had different melodies, lyrics, artists, or even genres here. Why did Taylor Swift write “Bring Me to Life”? Evanescence had perfected that song!

Things slowly started to click into place as the sun rose over Gotham’s Atlantic horizon. He was in a different universe, and he needed a way to deal with all of this.

Peter had the itching feeling that going home was no longer an option. Even if it was, he wouldn’t know how, and there was no guarantee what would be waiting for him on the other side. The Guardians of the Galaxy all turned to ash seconds before Peter did- who's to say the same didn’t happen to his loved ones? To May? Ned? MJ?

The teen wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he directed his path towards the more.. Higher-class side of Gotham. He wanted to get out of the crime-ridden areas as soon as possible. The quicker he found somewhere to get help without exposing his cross dimensional identity the better.

After sneaking onto three public buses, jumping a subway gate, and offering his seat on the train to a pregnant woman, he stepped out into the lighter side of the city. Entering a place that he noted on a brochure map as Bristol, he looked around curiously at the cityscape before him.

Here the sidewalks were new, the traffic lights worked, and there was greenery lining every corner. Fancy and expensive cars that reminded Peter of The Great Gatsby carted up and down the roads. Teens in navy blue school uniforms walked in the same direction, likely towards a school.

Getting enrolled in a school sounded fantastic right about now, because it would mean easy access to both information and a chemistry lab. Unfortunately, it was hard to get enrolled anywhere when you had no documents like Peter.

Instead, he turned towards the neighborhoods. One of these rich families had to have something good in their garbage. Some thrown out devices, good clothes, maybe even food that the picky kids were too biased to eat.

Honestly, Peter would take anything at this point. He just needed resources, even if it came from a rich man’s dumpster. As they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and in this scenario, Peter was dumpster diving from modern Kings.

The first few houses that he passed had long winding driveways, and sleek, modern buildings. They were boxy and dark, with too many windows. He could have sworn that he saw a pool in more than a few backyards through the slatted gates. Only one place caught his eye.

A large brooding manor sat on top of a slight hill, with a driveway comparable to a hiking trail. Its gates, while well kept, were obviously old. Likely the first gates and fences to be put on the property. Thanks to Karen connecting to the internet last night, Peter could ask her a few questions now.

“Who lives here?” Peter asked, standing in front of the gate and mentally debating how much energy it would take to scale it without triggering the multiple sensors he had already spotted.

“You are looking at Wayne Manor, home of Bruce Wayne and some of his children.”

“Only some?” Peter asked casually, grabbing a hold of the bars and starting to climb upwards. Sure, he was in broad daylight, but all the teens were at school by now, and any adults were either at work or still in bed, truly living luxurious lives.

“Yes, currently his sons Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas-Wayne, and Timothy Drake-Wayne live here. His other children include Richard Grayson-Wayne, Jason Todd-Wayne, and his two daughters, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown.”

The amount of last names gave Peter a pretty clear image of what kind of guy Bruce Wayne was: and that was a playboy. He had lots of kids, only a few lived at home, and almost all of them had two last names. If the manor wasn’t so Victorian looking, Peter might have even dared to compare Bruce to Tony.

“Anything else I need to know about this place?”

“Bruce Wayne is the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, having taken over the company after his parents both died when he was young. He seems to have a tendency to take in orphans, as well as making hefty donations to public works projects. As for the Wayne Property, both the house and the fence are original. I am however picking up some sort of underground space, but there appears to be something blocking my signal.”

Peter landed on the other side of the fence, flat-footed boots crunching on the gravel. “Something blocking your signal?” he asked, starting his trek up the driveway. Learning this history was cool and all, but he was more interested in both the trash and that underground room? Space? Either way, he wanted to know what it was.

“Yes, I can’t get a layout schematic of the room. However, I did get one of the rest of the house. The first-floor study has a secret staircase going down into the hidden room.”

“Cool, I’ll keep that in mind if they ever invite me in for tea.” The teen joked sarcastically, picking up a jog to reach the house.

He avoided the front door, porch, and steps with a ten-foot radius, instead going to either side to check for trash cans. Upon finding none, he frowned. They were likely kept in the back, so he continued his search. The cameras and sensors definitely went noticed, but he paid them no mind. The Waynes would just see a homeless man dumpster diving, no big deal. He was sure it happened all the time in Gotham.

Success shone on Peter in the form of two industrial-sized green dumpsters, one of which had the top open. Peter sighed quietly in relief, approaching them and first, checking for any internal sensors. Upon finding one, Peter climbed in as silently as possible.

This was not his first time going dumpster diving, and he was sure it wouldn’t be his last, either. After the Battle of New York, Peter, May, and Ben had been temporarily homeless. This meant lots of dumpsters, shelters, and stretched thin dollars.

This also meant that Peter knew what to look for while diving for trash. Most businesses tended to use a strategy called “souping” to prevent dumpster divers, which was the process of individually opening and/or destroying any products so that no one would deem them valuable. Most private homes however did not do this.

A throat being cleared pulled Peter from his search, and he yelped in surprise, quickly standing up straight and looking towards the house. His tingle should have alerted him if anyone was around! Why did it not go off??

The man looking at Peter was a well kept older gentleman wearing an ensemble expected of a butler. The black suit and slacks were pressed to perfection, and even his white cuffs and undershirt lacked any sort of stain or evidence of wear. His hair was thin, balding, and a sterling gray. It used to be black. His mustache was perfect.

“...oh my, I hadn’t realized that you were a child.” The man’s posture and expression softened the moment that he took full stock of Peter. The teen frowned- okay he was small but he wasn’t that small.

“I’m sixteen, sir.” he mumbled, and Karen sparked quietly to life in his ear.

“Alfred Pennyworth. Former soldier during World War Two, and current butler for the household.”

Peter really would have enjoyed knowing that this man existed about ten minutes ago, so that he could have avoided the one man who probably knew everything about the property. Glancing down to the butler’s hands, he realized that he was carrying trash bags. That’s why the dumpster had been empty.

“I-I’m also sorry- uh I didn’t- look I can go-” Peter stumbled over his words and his feet, climbing out of the dumpster. His ribs stung when he arched his side, and he winced in discomfort.

“My boy, you are quite alright.” Pennyworth said quickly and calmly, setting down the two white garbage bags. “Are you injured?”

“I-It’s not a big deal, It’ll heal. I’m sorry about your– Mr. Wayne’s– uh- dumpster.” Peter said, feeling like a kicked puppy.

Alfred Pennyworth frowned, taking a few small steps towards Peter. Was he afraid that he would bolt? He really wanted to run, but he also really wanted to explain his way out of the situation. Maybe the butler wouldn’t call the cops if Peter explained.

“I’m not worried about the dumpster, dear boy, I’m worried about you. You are caked with bruises and blood.” he opened his stance a little, a move that showed comfort. He was trying to make Peter more comfortable. “May I know your name?”

Peter swallowed, licking his dry lips. He really wanted to ask Karen what the best course of action was here, but if he spoke out loud, he would seem insane. So he stayed quiet, hands curling up in his jacket pockets.

“Alfred Pennyworth has a record of being both trustworthy and reliable.”

It was like she read his mind. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth and spoke. “...Peter.”

Alfred smiled gently, extending a white gloved hand to the boy. “Peter, my name is Alfred Pennyworth, but please, just call me Alfred.”

Peter reached out and took his hand in a timid shake, closing the distance between them. His hand was so dirty he almost felt bad about potentially soiling the glove, but then he realized that Alfred probably had a dozen more pairs somewhere in the Manor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth.”

The butler chuckled, grip both firm and comforting. Karen was right, this man seemed very trustworthy. Something about Peter told him that Alfred was his best source of help at the moment. It was probably why his tingle didn’t activate when the man stepped outside.

“Peter, might I interest you in a glass of tea? It won’t take long, and I’d like to check on any injuries you may have.” he offered carefully, slowly releasing the teen’s hand.

Peter chewed the inside of his mouth, glancing to the side of Alfred where the path wrapped back around to the front of the Manor. He could still run if he really wanted to.

But he trusted Karen, and Karen seemed to trust Alfred. Her judgment had never been wrong before.

“...tea sounds nice.”

#batman #spiderman #dc multiverse #marvel multiverse #marvel x dc #peter parker is trying his best #alfred pennyworth is the best #they will be happy #and then sad and angry #and then happy once more

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