the no good, very bad day.
Peter woke as he always did, panting into his mattress, sweat rolling off his brow as he opened his eyes. These nightmares were pretty common for him. An occupational hazard of being through what he’s been through. But still, he thought as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, would be nice to not have them.
He shook off the thought as he got up, stretching and groaning as his back made a loud popping noise, God he really needed a better sleeping place. He had found this abandoned building a few weeks after everything went down. It was a small two-story house that he thinks used to be some sort of restaurant downstairs, if the constant smell of old cooking oil was anything to go by.
He had managed to buy a mattress and some other supplies from a charity shop down by hells kitchen with the 40 bucks that had been in his wallet when Stange casted the final spell, but now he was almost out of money, only 5 dollars remaining, And for a boy who needed as many calories a day as he did, that was not good.
Today was the day he would start looking he had decided yesterday, so he had to get up. He got changed quickly, taking a second in the half-smashed mirror to try and make his curls cooperate, sighing when they wouldn’t, and just deciding to get going.
He climbed out of the window and down the wall of his shitty building, his suit was on under his clothes, not only as an extra layer of warmth in the New York winter, but also as a precaution. He couldn’t risk another person stumbling onto his little makeshift room and taking it.
He let go of the wall when he was about a meter from the ground, landing easily and walking briskly out of the alley and into the street. He needed money, so he needed a job, and for a job, he needed ID, but therein lays the problem. He doesn’t technically exist anymore, so he had to get a fake ID. And yes, he knew it was hypocritical for him of all people to be getting a fake ID and breaking the law, but come on, cut him a fucking break.
And luckily for him, he had busted a few tweens trying to buy alcohol from a local Queens corner shop and they had almost immediately panicked and told spiderman everything, including where they got their IDs. Peter had taken their fake IDs from them and gave a gentle scolding for their wrongdoings and had let out a small chuckle as they had scampered hurriedly away.
The IDs themselves weren’t bad, in fact they were actually really well made and might have worked if the kids didn’t look 13. Peter himself had a bit of a baby face, but he had matured in recent years, his shoulders sharper and more angular, his form taller and the bags under his eyes giving him a very adult ‘I’m too tired for this shit.’ Look, so maybe this would work.
He walked across queens all the way to hells kitchen, it was a long walk but its not like he could afford a metro pass, and after a while he arrived at the pawn shop the kids had mentioned, the ‘second chance” it was called.
He walked in, looking idly at the jewellery and nicknacks lining the shelves to the place, it smelled vaguely of gunpowder and dust, but it was hard to tell if that was the shop itself or just his enhanced senses picking up the stench that was hells kitchen.
Peter walked up to the counter, looking around and giving the bell a little ring when there was nobody there. A pudgy little man walked around from the corner that peter assumed lead to a breakroom and gave him a gruff greeting.
“Uh hi, I have a problem that I was told you could help with.” Peter said, changing his balance from foot to foot in his usual fidgety manor.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” the man asked, seeming annoyed and taking a long drag of his cigarette, peter had to physically stop himself reacting to the stench.
“I uh, I was blipped you see, and while I was gone my apartment building burnt down, and well, everything I had was in there.” Peter lied easily, some of it being technically true. He was going for the sympathetic angle, adding a small frown and a pause for effect “and my ID, by birth certificate, everything…” he paused again, grinning internally as the shop keeper frowned, seeming uncomfortable with having this sad boy Infront of him “well uh, I need a job you see? And I can’t get one without an ID, so I was talking to some friends, and they said you might be able to help.”
The shop keeper sighed and took another puff of his cigarette, seeming to study peter for a moment, before nodding and putting the cigarette out in an ash tray on the counter “I can get you a new ID, but it’ll cost ya, I don’t do freebees.”
Now that was a problem, as peter had exactly 5 dollars. He braced himself and asked, “uh how much?”
“80.” The pawn shop owner replied, peter frowned but nodded “I can do that” he lied “ill need a few days to get the money though, could you start the card and ill pay when its done?”
The man rolled his eyes and turned away, picking up some boxes of various items “fine, but you aint getting that card until I get my money. Don’t try to scam me kid.”
Peter nodded, giving his best innocent smile “of course sir! Thanks so much!” he said, walking out of the pawn shop. Ok, ok good. The though as he walked down the street, he just needed to get 80 bucks, he could do that…. probably
No no, he could. But how?...
He continued to ponder this as he made his way back through the streets of hells kitchen, pulling his collar up to protect against the freezing wind that had blown in as the sky darkened. It was twilight and peter was almost out of hells kitchen when he heard it, a sharp, ear-piercing scream. Ok maybe only ear-piercing to his ears, as nobody else on the street reacted at all and kept walking, but to him, it was loud, and God it sounded scared.
Peter darted into a dark alley, quickly stripping of his shirt and pants to reveal the spandex suit underneath. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled up the folded mask and quickly slipped it on, hiding his clothes and backpack behind a dumpster before taking off, swinging from building to building, listening for that scream.
After a few minutes he landed in another alley, this one was illuminated by a flickering streetlamp back out on the main road and smelt of blood, not old coppery blood from a bar fight last week like many of the other alleys in New York, but of fresh, warm blood. Spiderman crept forward as he listened to what was going on around the corner.
“Fuck off!” a woman yelled, she sounded like she was struggling for breath, her words sharp and scared. “Just shut the fuck up bitch.” A deeper voice all but growled. There was a noise. The sound of a gun clicking, a scared breath from the woman, a disgusting groan from the man as peter heard his a zipper being undone. And peter had heard enough.
He swung out from behind the corner, attaching his web to the opposite building and using the momentum to land a brutal kick to the man’s jaw, sending him tumbling down. The woman screamed, the man recovered quick, reaching for the gun. Peter slapped it from his hand, and reeled his fist back before landing a hard punch to the mans face, sending him stumbling down again. Peter waited for the man to get back up. He didn’t. He was out.
Peter grabbed the gun off the ground, clicking the safety on and turning to the woman, “are you ok miss?” he asked softly, taking in her dishevelled face, her nose was bleeding, and her cheek was a bright red, like she had been slapped.
“I uh-I don’t-I” she stuttered out, peter placed the gun on the nearby dumpster and stepped towards the woman just a little
“Hey, its ok” peter tried to sooth quietly “your safe, do you need to go to the hospital?”
The woman shook her head, tears leaking down her cheeks and quiet sniffles coming from her nose as she tried to stop crying.
“You sure?” peter asked gently “your nose looks like it might be injured.”
The lady reached up, flinching when her fingers made contact with her nose and pulled them away, seeing the blood.
“Yeah i….yeah I should go to the doctor…” she said quietly
“ok, ill call an ambulance for you and also the police.” He said turning away from the woman
“karen can I get an am-“ he froze, sharp pain blossoming from his stomach as he felt warm liquid roll down his side. He looked up just in time to see the now conscious man pull the trigger two more times, before peter reached out grabbing the gun so hard the metal bent under his hand and grabbing it off the man, smacking him in the head with it. the man fell, blood leaking from the gash now on his head as petter let out a pained groan. “Fuck…” he said, panting heavily.
Just as he was about to check on the man, and make sure he was still breathing, he heard the woman behind him fall, collapsing into the wall. He rushed over to her, letting out a very out of character “shit!” for spiderman.
The woman was leaning against the wall, her neck bleeding furiously. Peter grabbed her neck gently, putting as much pressure on the wound as he could without choking the woman “fuck fuck, karen call an ambulance!” the yelled to his AI who immediately started dialling.
Petter let out a panicked string of curses at the woman tried to reach up weakly to her neck, letting out gargled sounds from her destroyed throat.
“hey shhh, shhh” peter tried to calm him, hands still pressed against the wound where he could feel warm blood gush against his hand “its ok its ok.”
He was crying now, panicked tears coming from his eyes, one hand pressing against his stomach where he was bleeding and one against the wound in the woman’s neck. What had he done? Why didn’t he put the gun somewhere safer, oh god, oh god she was going to die, she was going to die because of him.
All of a sudden, he was roughly pushed to the side, he immediately sprung up, ready to protect the woman he had already failed… before he saw who it was. Now kneeling where peter had been, applying gently pressure with both hands to the bloody wound, was daredevil.
“Hold your stomach.” He let out roughly and peter couldn’t do anything but nod and obey, his hands clutching his blood-soaked costume. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, a heavy weight seemed to settle on them, willing them closed, God his stomach hurt, oh god it all hurt, fuck he wanted may. He let out a quiet whimper at the thought, pained tears sliding down his face before everything faded to black.