Stuck in a Web

It was a cold night for Peter.  He stayed in the vent and watched the world outside.  Hiding, curled into himself like a spider hiding from a bird, he knew they had long since left the area, that they’d done a sweep of every possible hiding spot a normal kid could get too, and yet, knowing the coast was clear; Peter stayed.  He closed his eyes feeling the scratching of his healing finally leave his head and travel down places he had not realised needed it.  The constant scratching, the dull pain as Peter felt bones and flesh slowly stitch back into the correct space.  

He knew he should move somewhere more stable, he should get out of this vent.  He could hear the scuttling of rats below him, the slow rushing of the city's sewer system even further below.  He could hear he was alone. That this building was only occupied by himself, that it was safe. But another part of him; the spidery instincts that saved his life countless times, was begging him to stay in place, to wait until he had to move.  The building was safe, but this vent, a place so out of place, so cramped that any normal person wouldn’t be able to get to him, was safer.  And Peter agreed.  And so Peter stayed until the world outside the gaps in the grate began to lighten, as a new day began.  Still, Peter stayed.  Vigilant and tired until the sun set once more on this strange place.

Peter tensed his muscles, noting which ones screamed in protest and which ones only throbbed, before he crawled deeper into the building.  Slowly and quietly he reached another grated opening.  Slowly prying open the cover, he placed it beside him and peered below.  A large, mildew eaten, but otherwise unscathed theatre.  Cushioned, once red velvet seats in rows facing a wooden stage.  Gaudí with the detailing along the edges of every corner, thick red curtains covering the majority of the wood as the pole holding them up had rusted away and crumbled under their weight years ago.  M.J. would have loved this place.  Untouched by graffiti and vandalism.  Back when it was first opened, this place would have been breathtaking.  Apart from school shows, Peter’s never been to a theatre and if this is what they look like, Peter would have taken M.J on a date to one before it was too late.  Too late.  Everything with Peter seems to be too late.

Peter climbed out of the vent and landed on the metal beams that held up the stage lights.  Carved balconies surrounded him, Closed, private balconies and a larger one in the center facing the stage.  Whoever went here before its ruin, was lucky.  Reaching out to the back wall of the stage, Peter shot a string of webs.  Shooting out of his wrist silently, with no accompanying thwip like his web shooters. Peter pulled himself forward.  He groaned as he landed crouched on the wall as a sharp pain shot through him at the sudden impact.  He should have found stairs instead.  Crawling down the wall, he began walking to the edge of the stage where a door led into the staff areas.  Exiting the performance hall, he found himself in a large ‘practice’ area.  Empty except for the mirror’s covering the entire left wall.  

He made eye contact with a child.  Frozen in shock as he took in his appearance.  It was a bloody version of him, before the spider bite, before his Uncle Ben had died.  A Peter that was carefree and happy.  A Peter who never looked the way he does in this mirror.  Soft brown hair mottled and dark with blood, dark yellowing bruises littering every exposed piece of skin.  Reaching out towards the reflection, and everything clicked into place as his small hands touched the filthy mirror.  

Peter was a child again.  

This just made everything harder, but Peter didn’t have time to panic.  Peter patted down his pockets pulling out scrunched bills and loose change.  He had to get back to New York.  People knew Spider-Man there, vigilante’s knew Spider-Man even if they didn’t know Peter.  Maybe Daredevil or Mr.Fantastic would know a way to re-age him or be able to point him towards the right person that could.  He knew he couldn’t go to Dr.Strange, not after last time.  He couldn’t risk ruining another spell… someone would help him, he told himself. He wasn’t going to start all over again.  

He counted the money he had, $39.45, and nodded to himself as he left searching for the dressing rooms.  Hopefully he wasn’t far from New York, he prays he has enough for a train ticket back, child prices were usually cheap.  Thankfully Peter found a trunk of costumes in one of the rooms, he rummaged about until he found something that would hopefully fit him.  A large men’s button up shirt that smelt like damp wasn’t the best but it was better than what he was wearing.  Pulling off his hoodie, Peter examined his stomach.  It was disgusting.  Taught skin broken by a large gash just below his belly button, he could see skin trying to scab over, see the muscles inside him move as they re-stitched themselves back together slowly.  That would take time to heal, after a week it should be gone, not even a scar to show… if he doesn’t find food then it might take two weeks, if he doesn't die of starvation first.  He tried to remember what exactly had injured him.  It wasn’t a knife, more like shrapnel, something got lodged in there after something exploded, maybe.  Peters is not entirely sure but he doesn’t thinks  that’s what happened.

Picking up a mouldy pirate shirt, he began wrapping it around the wound tightly.  It would have to do, he couldn’t risk re-opening the wound and staining the white shirt  Picking up the white dress shirt again, he paused as he eye’d the dried blood on his hands.  Putting the shirt back down he headed towards the bathroom next.  The pipes gurgled and sputtered before a murky coloured wanted bubbled out of the tap before giving way to a clearer, still slightly yellow, water.  He sighed and began washing the dried blood off him.  It wasn’t like it could get him sick.  His metabolism made fast work of any diseases and poison.  Just like the mouldy shirt pressed on his gaping wound, it would have to do for now, he couldn’t get infections, he would just have to deal with it.  Just until he gets back to New York.  He should be thankful there's any water at all. 

Heading back to the dressing room, Peter slipped on the dress shirt, and rummaged around in the case again until he found a pair of women's leggings.  Slipping them on. He looked down at his bare feet and sighed.  He went through every room of the building searching for any shoes before coming across, by some miracle, a pair of childrens school shoes in one of the managers offices along with a thick school coat saying: ‘Gotham Academy’ and matching school bag, they looked old, probably left behind when this place closed.  Peter found a pair of womens socks and slipped them on first before heading back to the practice room where the mirror was.  

The shoes were only slightly too big but Peter could just stick to them.  The women's leggings were baggy on himself and Peter swears he wasn’t this skinny when he was a kid but that’s a problem for later.  The dress shirt drowned him, reaching his knees and Peter had to hold onto the sleeves to prevent them slipping past his hands.  He sighed and ruffled his damp hair before grabbing the coat and slipping it on top.  He looked ridiculous.  He would have to avoid everyone on his way to the train station and just pray that they’d let him on the train to begin with. Grabbing the back pack, he shoved Ned's hoodie inside along with his money. He took another look at his reflection before heading back into the performance area and swinginging up to the ventilation shaft. Reaching the entrance Peter listened for anyone on the street below before peeling off the webs sealing it and climbing out.  He stuck the vent back on and quickly scaled down the building.  Peter looked both ways before heading towards the direction with more traffic.  

Peter wandered aimlessly until he found a tourist map on the edge of a nicer part of the city.  Labelled were district names along with key buildings like Gotham City Library, Gotham Fire Station, Wayne Tower, Police Station, etc. Unfortunately there were no train stations listed.  With a sigh he headed off in the direction of the library.  He would just have to use Google Maps to find it.  It took him longer than he wanted to get there, but hiding in alleyways whenever someone would look in his direction tends to take up a lot of time.  Looking up at the building he took in how well funded it looked, Peter swears the libraries even in the richer parts of New York didn’t look this clean. It was still the middle of the night as Peter circled around the building, checking for any cameras or security alarms before he climbed up to a toilet window on the ground floor.  It was small but Peter could fit.  Breaking the small lock, he listened again for any sign of buzzing in the air that accompanied so called silent alarms. Hearing none, he slipped inside.  He went to the sink and turned the tap on, cupping some of the clean water and gulping it down.  

After a few minutes, Peter quietly made his way to the door and listened for anybody inside.  He could hear the tapping of a keyboard and a muffled voice coming from a room near to the front entrance.  Quietly he left the bathroom and followed the arrows up the stairs to the computers.  He’d have to be quick, it was probably a security guard in the room downstairs and Peter hoped he avoided the camera’s on the way up.  Peter Put his bag below the desk and quickly logged into the computers, the guest login and password stuck to the desk.  Despite how funded the library appeared, they still had outdated computers from the mid 2000s.

He spent a few seconds looking at the unfamiliar icons on the screen before clicking on what he assumed was the equivalent of Google called FreshView.  He searched up “Nearest Train Station” and clicked the first link that popped up.  Turns out he’s in New Jersey, great, at least he’s close by.  Unfortunately there were no train stations in Gotham, something about safety concerns one article said.  But there was a bus station.  Clicking the link to the bus stations website, the slow loading sign being a key indicator of the early 2000s quality WiFi, he looked at the time tables.  A bus leaves for New York twice a day, 5am and 5pm: GN474.  Peter memorised the number before looking back at the price list.  $34 for a child one-way ticket for the 5am and $40 for the 5pm bus. Checking the time, he let out a sigh. 4.30am. The bus station was on the other side of the city, he wouldn’t make it in time and he couldn’t afford the evening bus.  

As he resigned himself to head back to the theater for the night, something clicked in Peter’s mind. He’s never heard of Gotham before.  And as he looks at the time table, he realises a lot of these stops he’s never heard of before either.  Star City, Metropolis, Blüdhaven.  Opening up another tab, Peter looks up Gotham City.  Article after article of a billionaire called Bruce Wayne and his family popped up, donations, crashed cars, rumours he’s funding the Justice League.

Peter went down a rabbit hole.  Reading event’s that never happened, heroes and villains that don’t exist.  As Peter searched through a reddit post about the countless vigilantes and rogues in Gotham, The Bats and the Birds they were dubbed, it was filled with eyewitness accounts and rumours surrounding the family spanning nearly twenty years.  As he read further and further through theories and legends, Peter resigned himself to the knowledge that he somehow got shot out to another dimension. DIng!  Peter heard the sound of the elevator. Panicking he quickly shut the computer down as he heard someone get inside.  Peter ran for the railing and just as the elevator opened on his floor, he had jumped onto the floor below, into the bathroom, and out the window back into Gotham.

Peter made it halfway across the city before he realised he forgot his bag.  His money and Ned’s hoodie are gone.  Fuck. He stops at a crosswalk, waiting for the green light as the early morning traffic drives by.  It was probably just after 5am, if he was lucky he could show up at the library after it opens and claim he’d left it behind the day before.  He’s pretty certain no-one saw him. He could even show up a bit earlier, staff would probably be there around half eight if the place opens at 9 like the ones in New York.  He’d be the first one in when it opens and if he’s even luckier, they might not have even found his bag. 

He had heaps of time before the library opened, and he wasn’t too fond of returning to the theatre without it.  Crossing the street when the green man flashes, Peter walks aimlessly around for a bit, watching as the city slowly wakes up, coffee shops begin opening, bin men finishing their rounds of emptying overfilled dumpsters.  Peter walks and walks watching this city come to life around him.  He heard the bell of a coffee shop's door chime but paid it no mind as he kept his aimless sightseeing.  He could hear the guy rush out of the coffee shop, Peter notes he’s probably running late for something as he presses another crossing button and waits for the green man. Across the street is a waitress setting up the outdoor seating of a cafe.  She wipes down the surfaces and puts ash trays on a few tables.  Outdoor smoking areas were not common in New York especially on busy streets but this is Gotham where, from what Peter has seen, is a lot rougher.

Move

His senses scream at him but before he can act he feels the man from the coffee shop bump into him, a hand flies out to grab Peter before he can stumble onto the road but at the same time, dropping the coffee all over Peter.

“I’m so sorry” says the man and Peter turns his head to look up at him.  Peter's mouth is open in shock as he feels the luke-warm coffee start seeping in through his clothes. He looks down at his ruined outfit.  At least he didn’t smell of damp anymore, he smelled like coffee.

The guy rummages in his pockets and pulls out a packet of tissues and attempts to dab up some of the coffee before he sighs and shakes his head.  Something isn’t right.  Peter looks up at the guy, slightly tanned skin, dark hair and blue eyes. He was athletic looking, and tall. A very handsome guy over all and Peter swears he’s seen him before.  Peter notes how only he was the one that had coffee spilled on him; the guy hadn’t a drop on his own clothes.  A cold breeze causes Peter to shiver and a part of him feels like he’s going to cry.  It’s been a very long 24 hours, who could blame him if a tear fell?  Well apparently this guy was judging. 

The green man beeped and the man in front of him placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place like that guy from the first night here.

“Hey, um… I’ve got some spare clothes in my car.  Some of my brother's old stuff, I was gonna drop them into a charity shop later but considering I just spilt coffee all over you um…” The stranger placed a hand on Peter's back and began walking back down the street to the coffee shop he had walked out from earlier.  He hesitantly let go of Peter as he went to open the trunk of his car.  Peter did not trust him. He was convinced the guy spilled the coffee on him on purpose.  I mean why did he run up to Peter when his car was just outside the shop?  He did need new clothes though, he stayed a few feet away from the car in case there were any signs that this guy might try to kidnap him.

“I’m Dick by the way” Dick said as he rummaged through a sack of clothes before pulling out a black thermal long sleeve shirt, a hoodie with what Peter remembers is the Superman “S” on it and a pair of boys black cargo pants. He handed Peter the pile of clothes and began leading him into the coffee shop.

“Hey Sean, I’m back again.” he said to the barista and gestured to the coffee stained Peter. “Had a bit of an accident”

Dick nods to the toilets.

“You drink hot chocolate right? Go get changed first” Peter watched as Dick pulled out a wallet and turned to the barista. “Another latte and a hot chocolate”

Peter closed the toilet door behind him.  He eyed the small window and contemplated just making a run for it but then again, he could go for a hot chocolate and if this guy was paying then he’d be stupid to deny it.  Changing into the outfit, Peter had to tack one of the shoelaces out of his shoe to use as an impromptu belt.  These clothes were a much better fit then the coffee stained clothes that were now stuffed into the small bathroom bin.

Peter left the toilets and saw Dick sitting at a booth near the entrance texting someone on his phone.  As Peter made his way over, Dick smiled brightly at him and slipped his phone in his pocket. On the table was a latte and a large hot chocolate with marshmallows and squirty cream.

“Sit down, I hope you don’t mind but I ordered some food” Dick took a sip of his coffee as Peter sat down across from him, “Just some breakfast sandwiches, I wanted to get some earlier but I hate eating out alone.”

“...You’re paying right?” Peter asked as he reached out for his own drink.  He put his cold fingers on the sides of the mug, relishing in the feeling of the warmth seeping into him. “I mean I can’t pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about that, I’ve already paid” Dick smiled at Peter again, “Besides, I hate eating alone so if anything you’re doing me a favour. Think of it as part of the apology for spilling my coffee on you”  

Damn, maybe he should purposefully get things spilled on him if it meant rich guys would buy him food.

“Thanks,” Peter said softly both to Dick and the Barista as he put down the toasted sandwiches.  Peter hesitated before Dick picked up his own sandwich and took a bite prompting Peter to follow along.

“You never told me your name” Dick stated as they ate. “I’m not saying you have too, I’m just curious”

“Oh! It’s Peter.” Peter happily drank some of the hot chocolate.  

“How old are you Peter?” 

“Old enough”

Dick just sighed before changing the subject.

“You’re up early. Usually kids stay in bed as late as they possibly can, I know I did when I was your age.” 

“Oh I need to head to the library but I don’t think they’re open yet.” Peter had finished his food by now and was cradling his hot chocolate, letting it warm him up as much as he could. “I left my bag behind yesterday so I gotta pick it up”

“Well you’re in luck Peter, a friend of mine works there,” Dick says, taking out his phone, “Want me to send her a text and see if she found anything?”

“No, it’s okay” Peter did not want Dicks friend finding his bloody hoodie. “I gotta go there anyway so I’ll just ask when I get there.”

“Okay” Dick smiled as he put his phone back down, “I’m gonna get another coffee to go.  I’ll give you a lift to the library, they’re not open yet but Babs should be there already, she’ll let us in if I get her a coffee.”

“Okay!” This was too good to be true. Something was clearly off with how kind this guy was but then again, push comes to shove, Peter could definitely get out of any attempted kidnapping this guy may or may not have planned. 

Peter finished the rest of his hot chocolate just in time for the barista to hand Dick two more coffee cups.  Dick handed one to Peter and Peter grinned as he smelt the hot chocolate.

“Thanks” Peter grinned at him and slipped out the door Dick was holding open.

As they got to the car Dick unlocked it and opened the passenger side door before he climbed into the drivers side.  Climbing inside the car, Peter put on his seat belt as Dick turned the heating on and pulled off into the street. 

“What brings you to Gotham?” Dick asked, keeping his eyes on the road. 

“Just stuff y’know?”

“I know it's futile to ask but what happened to your face Peter? You look a bit… worse for wear”

“Stuff”

“Stuff seems to be happening around you a lot by the looks of it.”

“You could say that.”

Peter turned to look out the window, hot chocolate warming his hands.

“I won’t… call CPS if that’s what you’re worried about.” Dick says. “Just… you got somewhere safe to stay right?”

“I do, don’t worry, I’m not sleeping on the streets or anything” Peter says, which was true, he was staying in an abandoned theatre which was much cooler. Peter quickly unbuckled his seat belt as they pulled up outside the library, and jumped out of the car.  The sooner he gets that bag, the sooner he could get back to the theatre and get some sleep.  He’s gotten food and drink in him, and he could already feel the scratching of the healing growing stronger.  He just really needed to sleep now.  He followed after Dick as they walked up the stairs and Dick texted someone before a woman in a wheelchair unlocked the door for them.

“Hey Babs” Dick said, handing her the coffee and opening the door wider for Peter to enter, “This is Peter, Peter this Barbara but just call her Bab’s.  Peter said he left his bag here yesterday, you didn’t happen to find anything did you?”

“This is a library, the sheer amount of lost school bags we have here is concerning.” Barbara balances the coffee cup between her knees and begins heading over to the main desk. “Where’d you leave it Peter?”

“Um… Upstairs, I think I left it near the computers yesterday just before you closed.”

Barabara paused for a minute before heading over to the room behind her desk.

“I don’t think we found anything but why don’t you double check upstairs for me and I’ll check the Lost and Found”

Peter nodded and started up the stairs, he missed the look Dick and her shared as Dick followed Barbara into the back.  Upstairs Peter frantically checked and rechecked under every computer desk before sighing and heading back downstairs.  He made it to the front desk and heard muffled whispers coming from the back room.  Shit. He really hoped they didn’t look through the bag. 

“Hello?” Peter called out, not wanting to be rude and heading back there without permission.   A few seconds later Dick came out smiling and holding up Peter’s bag triumphantly.

“This it?” Dick asked, handing Peter the bag. 

“Yeah!” Peter could smell his own blood inside the bag so he didn’t bother checking inside. “I really have to get going now. Thanks for everything Dick! Thanks Bab!” Peter shouted out to the backroom area where he could hear Babs.  Before they could reply Peter was out the door, practically running back to his make-shift home.  More than ready to sleep the day away and head back to New York in the morning.  He wasn’t sure what he would do when he gets there considering he’s in another dimension, but it was probably a lot more than what he could get done in Gotham.

Dick watched Peter run out the door, he knew from experience there’s no point chasing him.  At least they might have a lead now.  He entered the backroom again where Bab’s sat, with Peter’s bloody hoodie on her lap as she scoured the library's CCTV footage from last night.

“You think he’s a meta?” Dick asks, as Babara pulls up the footage of the kid in the library last night.  Paused on one of the few frames the camera was able to pick up of him.  Peter halfway through the air after jumping over the railing.

“You said he was badly injured right? Stabbed even, and now he’s jumping over railings like it’s nothing, that's what? A 15 foot drop?  Besides those bruises on his face are old, a week at least not from the night before.”

“He’s just so young. You should have seen him, had a piece of metal just sticking out of him and he was there pretending nothing was wrong.” Dick sighed as he texted Jason about the kid. “Jason spent the whole night searching for him, and found nothing.”

“There’s probably someone after him. Considering he both appeared and disappeared suddenly he might be able to teleport” Barbara said, texting Bruce. “I’m telling Bruce you're bringing in the kids' DNA. Finding out who he is would be the first step. He tell you anything?”

“Yeah that his name’s Peter and stuff happened.”

“Just stuff?” Babara said as she passed Dick the hoodie. 

“Just stuff”