Stuck in a Web

Waking up in an unknown location is not uncommon for Spider-man.  Nor is waking up with a concussion.  Waking up as Peter Parker in an unknown location with a concussion is.

Peter's muscles strained as he slowly pushed himself up.  The movement brought a wave of nausea that made him pause every few seconds as he held back throwing up whatever was left of his dinner.  After a few agonising minutes, Peter began getting his bearings.

Swallowing the spit building up in his mouth he did what he usually did after passing out.  Step One; check for immediate danger - Peter closed his eyes and focused on the world around him, he reopens them after a few minutes after hearing nothing that screamed you got knocked out in a fight, just the white noise every city has of traffic and civilians.   Step Two; take note of his surroundings.  Looking around him, half his vision of the alleyway was obscured by the overfilled dumpster he was sitting against, the half of the alleyway he could see didn't ring a bell.  Now, Peter isn’t stupid enough to think he knows every alleyway in New York but he knows most of them, and none of them had gargoyles perched on rooftops.  Looking around, Peter tries to gather any clues of where he might be. 

The fire escapes were definitely American looking.  The large rats in the dumpster beside him hinted towards a large city and the cold temperature meant somewhere North.  It could be Canada?  Why would Peter be in Canada? He swears he was just… just… What was he doing? He tried to lean forward to glimpse around the dumpster but the spinning and fresh wave of nausea made him freeze.  Right.  Peter's got a concussion that's why he can't remember.  Well, whatever the reason, he isn't going to wait around in a dirty alley until he remembers. He'll do that somewhere else, preferably somewhere warm.  His spider DNA came with a lot of benefits but also a lot of negatives.  The lack of being able to thermoregulate being one of them.

Grabbing onto the edge of the dumpster he slowly hauled himself up. As a fresh wave of nausea washed over him at the sudden reorientation, Peter shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the spinning to stop. So focused on steadying himself, he almost didn't hear the sound of someone landing a few meters behind him.  Almost. He heard a small buzz from the stranger before he spoke.

“Oracle.  Send an ambulance to my location ASAP, I've got a stabbed kid here and a lot of blood.” 

“Closest one is about ten minutes away, you know the drill Nightwing, keep him conscious till they arrive, I'll let B know you'll be late.”

Oracle?  Nightwing? Definitely not real names.  Seeing as normal civilians don't use code names, the person behind Peter was definitely not a normal person… wait… stabbed kid?  Peter sighed as he realised he had forgotten step three; check himself for injuries. Looking down, Peter saw it.  For once he was happy he had a concussion.  It meant he couldn't feel the obviously painful piece of metal sticking out of his stomach.  He let out a sigh, his favourite hoodie, the one Ned forgot at Peter's place the day before he forgot about Peter, was now ruined.  The thick hoodie, once white was now soaking up Peter's blood.  It's going to take ages to wash it out. Today just keeps getting worse.

“Kid,” Peter jumped as the stranger placed a hand on his shoulder and he silently cursed himself for forgetting about him while he mourned his hoodie,  “An ambulance is on the way, I need you to lie down for me okay?  I'll help you down, we can't have you jostling that thing anymore then you already have.”

Peter said nothing as he blinked owlishly up at the stranger.  Definitely not a normal person he thinks.  What is he even wearing, one of those mini eye masks that cartoon burglars wear?  A skin tight suit with a blue ‘W’ on it?  What the hell is going on? And why is this guy so tall? Sure, Peter might not be the tallest but he's not short. This guy has got to be 6'10 at least.

“-Kid?” the stranger repeats, “is that okay?”

“...Hey” Peter said, attempting to sound as non-ambulance-needing as possible despite the metal shrapnel sticking out of him.  Okay, so the ‘Oracle’ lady on the phone said ten minutes until the ambulance shows up so Peter’s got maybe six minutes before he has to leg it just to be safe.  Like hell was he going to be outed as Spider-Man again because some knock-off Avenger sent him to a hospital out of concern, besides, Peter didn’t have insurance.  He’d be in medical debt and publically targeted all over again.  Yeah.  Absolutely not. He could feel the scratching sensation of his healing kicking in as it made its way to the base of his skull as it began working on his concussion. “I'm fine though, no ambulance needed you. I should get going now, you know, places to be and all that.  You can um… let go of my shoulder now Mr.Blue Dude, I’m all good… I promise”

Peter could almost feel the gears turning in the stranger's mind as he opened his mouth to say something as he glanced between the metal in Peter’s guts and his face. 

“...Okay” the stranger; Nightwing, Peter recalls Oracle calling him over the com, “Can you tell me your name?  I can't keep calling you kid.”

Peter knew the guy was stalling, Nightwing was going to keep him talking and conscious till the ambulance showed up, but what Nightwing didn’t know was Peter was stalling too.  He just needed a few minutes for his concussion to calm down a bit then he’d be gone at the first sound of sirens.

“Peter.” 

“Peter? That's a nice name.” Nightwing said in a tone Peter knew too well, a tone he'd used to calm down injured civilians all the time.  Keep them calm so they can't agitate their injuries by panicking. “Do you remember your last name Peter?”

“Yeah”

“...Which is?” Nightwing pressed.

“None of your business”

Peter was a bit surprised when Nightwing didn’t react to his rudeness.  This guy has definitely dealt with rude teens before.

“Where's your parents Peter?” Nightwing changed the topic, “Why aren’t you at home?”

“My parents?” Peter asked, confused.  Peter was 16.  He knows he had a baby face but really? “Why?”

“I'm sure they're very worried about you.  You shouldn't be out so late all by yourself.” Nightwing began. “Do you know your parents phone num-”

“They're dead.” Peter cut him off. They've been dead since Peter was a toddler.  He does miss them but it's hard to miss people who you don't remember.  His Aunt May and Uncle Ben were his real parental figures but… they're gone too. 

Nightwing pauses at Peter's words but quickly catches himself and changes subjects.  

“Why are you out so late? How did you get here?”

“I don't know.” Peter answers truthfully.

“...Okay well… you think you could still lie down for a bit? I think you got a little bump on your head and when that happens it's best to lie down okay?”

“Dude, I know what a concussion is and I said I'm fine so please let go of my shoulder so I can go home.” 

“My friends are coming to pick me up soon, they'll give you a lift back to your place okay?” Nightwing said, hand still firm on Peter's shoulder. “It will be much faster than walking.”

“Your friends in an ambulance right?” Peter comments raising an eyebrow, “Look just go away, I promise you I’ll wait right here for them… alone. I’m sure you have way more important things to be looking after”

Nightwing lets out a heavy sigh.

“I do have important things to do Peter, namely making sure kids like you get home safe,” Nightwing crouches down in front of Peter. “I promise the ambulance isn’t scary at all and whoever did… this to you won’t be able to do it again. Now the nice people will want you to tell them what happened okay? You can tell me and I’ll let them know okay?”

“... I fell over”

“Peter, you’re not in trouble okay?” Nightwing rubbed both Peter’s shoulder’s comfortingly. “You won’t be in trouble if you tell me okay? Was it your family that did this? Is that why you’re out so late? Did you run away?”

“No. I fell over.  Besides I live by myself” Peter said reaching a hand down to trace the metal sticking out of him,  should he pull it before or after he loses this guy?  After.  M.J. definitely told him to leave a knife in until you can get it out safely, something about doing more damage taking it back out.  Peter’s hand was swatted away from his injury by the vigilante. 

“You live by yourself?” Nightwing asks, “you’re a bit… young don’t you think?”

“I’m 19” Peter lies. “I just have a baby face.”

“...Peter, how bad did you hit your head?”

Peter could begin to hear the sirens in the distance getting louder.  He had to leave now, concussion and wanna-be hero be damned.

“Hey Nightwing, I’m really sorry about this, it’s just I am not going to the hospital”

“Yes. You are.” Nightwing said hand firmly on Peter’s shoulder, holding him in place. “Listen Peter, it’s gonna be okay, you just need a bit of hel-ouhg!”

Peter kicked him in the balls, not hard enough to break anything, but definitely enough that he’d be sitting on ice when he got home.  And with a harsh shove, Nightwing toppled backwards letting go of Peter as he sprinted past the hunched over vigilante and in the opposite direction of the fast approaching ambulance.  He made sure he wasn’t running too fast, not that he could with his injuries, but definitely fast enough that any normal person would have trouble keeping up with him.

To Peter’s horror, as soon as he turned the corner out of the alleyway he could hear the man scramble back up and start chasing him.

“Peter! Stop!” 

Fuck, he was fast.  Peter sped up, his abdomen heaving with every step as he could feel the metal dig into him more with every step.  With closed teeth and growl Peter grabbed the metal and yanked it out of him, not bothering to throw it away as it clattered to the floor.  With one hand Peter firmly pressed down on the gaping wound and kept running, he could hear the guy gaining on him with every step.  He knew with his condition he couldn’t out run him, he was gonna have to hide.  Peter could hear the crackle of the guy's earpiece as Oracle spoke.

“Nightwing, don’t tell me they ran off” Oracle berated, “I can see your location moving fast towards Crime Alley, the ambulance won’t go down there, you know that”

“Get Hood to cut him off” Nightwing huffed out, not loosing his speed, seemingly only getting faster causing Peter’s spider senses to go haywire as the gap between them grew shorter. 

“He wont be happy abo-”

“Tell him it’s a kid that needs hospitalisation and if he doesn’t help-”

Peter felt the tips of Nightwing’s fingers grace his shoulder as he slipped into another alleyway, fuck he’s calling in back up.  Peter ran faster slipping out of the alleyway and be-lined towards the more derelict looking buildings.  He was gonna have to hide, he couldn't keep running forever.  As Peter ran down the dodgiest alleyway he has probably ever seen, the loud noise of a motorbike drew his attention.  There, heading towards him, was another guy wearing a red helmet and he could hear a sigh of relief coming from Nightwing behind him thinking Peter was actually going to allow himself to be cut off.  Adrenaline shooting through every nerve, Peter ran straight for the motorcycle guy, he was going to play chicken.  He could see the motorcycle guy hesitate briefly as Peter ran straight for him.

“Shit” He heard the voice modulated voice of the guy curse as he quickly skidded his bike sideways to avoid running straight into the kid with a deathwish, effectively blocking off that end of the narrow alleyway with it.  With Nightwing behind him and the new guy in front, Peter would have no choice but to stop.  If he wasn’t Spider-Man that is.  The guy climbed off his bike, and held his hands out ready to catch Peter.  If only Peter didn’t grab him first.

Firmly gripping one of the guys outstretched hands, Peter yanked him back pulling the guy off his feet and straight into Nightwing behind. The two toppled onto the ground both stunned by what just happened as Peter jumped over the bike blocking his path and quickly turned into another alley.  He had to hide, fast. He couldn't keep running for long with a gaping hole in him, and after chucking another giant of a man over his shoulder, those two would definitely have questions for him, questions Peter definitely won't be answering. 

Noticing a large ventilation shaft sticking out of the side of one of the obviously abandoned building’s about three stories up, Peter headed straight for it.  A broken window would be too obvious, he needed to get out of sight immediately.  He pulled at the rusted edges of the grate covering the entrance, and with a swift tug it popped off and he slipped inside.  Pulling the grate closed behind him.  He instinctively reached out to web it in place as he heard the sound of the motorcycle speed past in the street below.  Peter held his breath.  He stayed there, body contorted in the small space as he watched the street below, ready for them to run again at the slightest hint of being found.  Peter didn’t know how long he waited as he felt the adrenaline slowly leave his body and the scratching of his healing kicking in full gear as it attempted to heal up his wound.  Peter rested his head against the cold metal of the shaft, still listening for any signs of trouble.  He blinked tiredly as the coldness of the metal seeped through his blood soaked hoodie and he could feel the cold reaching to his bones.  He needed to move somewhere warmer before he accidentally went into hibernation, again. He blinked tiredly at the metal grate and his eyes focused on his webs that sealed the kept it in place.  Was he wearing his web shooters this whole time?

He reached down to one of his wrists but finding nothing there, Peter pulled his hand up to his face.  Gross. There on his wrist was a spinnerette just like the Peter 2.  When the fuck did that happen.  He traced the feeling of a thick structure that buried itself deep into his wrist and tried to recall anything that might have caused this sudden mutation.  Maybe another spider bit him? …No he would have remembered, that first spider bite was way too painful to not notice.  Peter knew a lot of his DNA was a garble mess of human, spider, and good old radiation.  Maybe that was it?  Did he get another bout of radiation that triggered more mutations? Oh god is he going to grow more a fuck tonne of eyes and hairy spiderlegs?  He really doesn’t want that to happen, he can’t be a friendly neighbourhood spiderman if he looks like something out of a horror film.

His thoughts were cut off as the motorcycle came back through the alley, stopping a few buildings down.  Peter strained his hearing, his view cut off by the grate that he stuck on with his new biological webs, gross.

“I’m telling you, he just vanished.  He turned a corner and was just gon-” Peter heard the cackle of the earpiece as the person on the end of the line cut off the red guy.  “That’s what I’m doing!”

Peter heard the crackle of the com being cut short and he assumed the guy turned it off.  Peter listened as the guy climbed off his bike and began walking down the street with heavy steps looking for Peter.  He was opening dumpsters and moving trash as if looking to see if Peter buried himself, he checked locked doors, and every window that he could reach.  When a door creaked open, or a window was able to be wedged up, the figure would slip inside whatever building it was, emerging a few moments later empty handed.  Peter thanked whoever was listening that whatever building he was in was sealed tight, as he heard the guy check every possible entrance before moving onto the next.