Lost tooth
It was cold in New York. Not a damp cold like in Gotham, but still a cold that Peter didn't want to get stuck in for long. He was going to go for the whole Spiderman in New York approach; build an identity that other superheroes would be comfortable teaming up with in the future, who he could ask help from in return. Then again, he couldn't just bank everything on hoping the heroes will believe him, let alone have the abilities to help him. He was going to have to figure this out on his own as well. If he could gather evidence, or maybe even attempt to figure out the science behind dimensional travel, then maybe he wouldn't even have to rely on the superheroes. Now in New York with the winter promising to seep into his bones, he was stuck all over again. Stuck in the cold, in a world so familiar but simply not his. Not his New York. Not his home.
Looking towards the window in the library, Damian sat beneath it while he continued reading his book on spiders, every now and then taking his phone out to take down notes. It was a moment of calm, the chatter of the other patrons, the bustling of the world going on all around him falling into the familiar white noise of New York, and for a moment, Peter could breathe again. Closing his eyes, Peter breathed. A slow steady breathing, a moment of peace. Opening his eyes again, he looked back at Damian and a thought weaseled its way into Peter’s serenity; ‘What are the chances?’. With that one thought, his peace was gone.
Damian. The 14 year old that had attached himself to Peter, a piece of Gotham that had been right next to him this entire time. Peter hadn’t escaped Gotham in its entirety, not with Damian only a few feet from him. The same Damian who had coincidently been on the same bus as him. A coincidence reading a book about spiders. Who had stopped Peter from ordering cinnamon pancakes claiming it wasn’t healthy but Peter knew that wasn't true; cinnamon is an antioxidant, something his Aunt May used to add into all her smoothies for the ‘health benefits’. Something she had to stop doing after Peter started complaining about getting migraines from the smell. It wasn't like he was allergic to it, just overwhelmed by it. Like a spider repellant, the smell messing with their senses, too much input getting shoved into him. Something someone would know if they knew a lot about spiders; but as far as Damian knew, Peter was entirely human. Not once had Peter given any clue of his mutation to this kid and yet he was being minded as if he knew.
Damian didn't let him order a spider repellant. The same Damian who's friend and his father started hovering around them after a phone call from his dad who had a voice Peter swore sounded like Batman's. Those friends who sent Peter's senses in a frenzy when he first met them. Why would his senses spike like that? It was like they knew something was wrong but weren't able to pinpoint why. Was it how they carried themselves? Something small, something unknown.
Peter turns back to his computer, opening a new tab. When he was younger, he went down a rabbit hole with Ned; Creepy Pasta's and SCP's. Ghost stories that people would write on the Internet. Stories that Ned and him would send back and forth to each other, convinced they had found something scary enough to scare the other. Looking back, none of those stories were actually scary, overly dramatic ghost stories for children, but one had stuck with him into his mid teens, one about the Uncanny Valley. The story was about the protagonist meeting a stranger that wasn't correct. That was slightly off, teeth too long, eyes too wide; that sort of thing. Something that was so minute they couldn't place exactly what it was about them, but they instinctively knew that stranger wasn't human.
Peter glances up to where Jon is scuttering around the library behind an elderly librarian happily chatting away without a care in the world. Looking at him now, really looking, that same feeling of wrongness crept up. His senses weren’t screaming at him but something was still whispering in the back of his mind that he too was wrong. Not to the extreme as his dad, but it was still there. Focusing back on his computer Peter typed into the search engine something that he should have looked up as soon as he escaped Gotham: ‘Batman teams up with [blank]‘. Just like in his dimension, the Google knock off had predictive searches turned on. The first results were other bats, but the third wasn't. The third was Superman. He didn't click the search. He didn't want that in his search history, not if his guesses were right and Batman really did send someone. He closes the tab. Superman was an alien, someone not perfectly human but human enough. That could have been why his senses had spiked; the uncanny valley of meeting someone who looked human but wasn’t, it could have been the rhythm of his heart, his breathing, or just weird vibes. Whatever could have triggered it had spiked on Clark and his son.
A family friend.
It could be paranoia but Peter wasn’t in a position to ignore it. Not if Batman was involved. Looking back at Damian, he humoured his paranoia. If he was going to assume Clark was Superman then he would have to assume Bruce was Batman. Damian could be Robin. Damian had even told him his favourite hero was Robin. Everything was being shoved into his face but his own determination to get to New York and to find a hero to help him had left him blind to the walls closing in on him from all sides. Peter was in a snare and he couldn’t allow it to tighten around him any more. Peter would not get caught again, fictitious trap or not.
“Damian, I'm gonna run to the bathroom. Can you make sure no one takes the computer when I'm gone?”
“I'll tell Jon to mind it, I'll go with you.” Damian says standing up.
“I don't need to be babysat going to the toilet. I'll be like 10 minutes, 15 max.” Peter says, pulling out his computer chair and gesturing Damian to sit down.
“Tt, last time you were in the bathroom alone you drank antiseptic.”
“I won't drink anything I find in the bathroom okay?”
“Fine.” Damian plops down on the computer chair. “I'll mind the computer for 15 minutes.”
“Thanks.” Peter said, slipping his backpack on, hoping it wouldn’t cause suspicion in Damian as he headed to the bathrooms. Step One: Distract the enemy - Done. Step Two: Fucking leg it.
Peter entered the disabled bathroom and locked the door behind him. Was it horrible he had locked the only disabled bathroom in the building? Yes, but he could feel bad about it later. He only had 15 minutes and he couldn’t risk the men’s bathroom, not with the many people that could catch him climbing out of the second story window. No. The disabled bathroom was the best choice, it wasn’t a stall with large gaps and a shared window by the sinks; it was a room with a solid gapless door, and a small window that no-one could see him slink out of.
Crawling up the wall, Peter broke the lock and looked out. The window overlooked a dirty alley, one with large dumpsters and a few stragglers too busy with what was in front of them to look up. Peter quickly slipped out, jumping down to the alley below and he ran. He didn’t know exactly what Superman’s abilities were and he’d hopefully be gone before he found out. Peter ran straight into the first Subway station he saw, hopping the barrier, and onto the first train that pulled up. Half his head-start was probably gone, maybe six or seven minutes left. By the time he reaches the last stop, his head-start would be over. He had to be smart.
15 minutes. 15 minutes and still no Peter. Damian glared in the direction of the bathrooms. He had taken his bag with him but just assumed it was Peter being overly worried about losing his stuff again. He bit his lip, he should have insisted on going with him. 15 minutes were up and Damian wasn’t going to wait around any longer. Standing up, Damian places his book on the desk next to the computer and heads to the men’s bathroom. It wasn’t busy, only a few men at the urinals or sinks and the stalls were all open. Peter wasn’t here. Damian rushes out and knocks on the disabled bathroom.
“Peter?” Damian asks through the door. Hearing nothing, he looks at the doors lock; a simple twist lock that even a butter knife could open. He quickly grabs one of his debit cards and jostles it into the groove, “Peter, I’m coming in.”
Opening the door he immediately clocks the broken lock on the small window near the ceiling.
“Jon!”
“Dami, we’re in a library.” Jon said jogging up to him, “You can’t shout-”
“Shut up Jon,” Damian hisses “Peter’s gone.”
“How? Weren’t you-” Jon finally notices the window, “Oh.”
Damian pushes Jon into the room and towards the window.
“I can’t fit through that,” Jon said pointing to the window, “It’s like a foot wide, I don’t even know how he got out there.”
“Tt,” Damian runs out of the room towards the stairs, taking two at a time as Jon quickly catches up behind him.
“We should call my dad.” Jon says as they arrive into the alley with no sign of Peter, “He’d be able to find him, you probably scared him off or something. You should really work on your people skills.”
“I did not scare him off.” Damian snaps, looking both ways, trying to figure out which way Peter could have gone, “It was obviously you two showing up that scared him, he was acting spooked as soon as he saw your ugly head.”
“My mum says I’m handsome actually.”
“Shut up Jon. Can’t you use your laser vision or something and look.”
“I can’t actually do that… yet” Jon says sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.
“What?”
“Dami, I really think I should call dad, I mean he’s 9 isn’t he? Aren’t you supposed to call the police when a kid goes missing, like an amber alert or something?"
“What are you going to say? ‘Oh yes officers, my friend’s nine year old mutated brother is on the run in New York. Please don’t shoot him.’” Damian mocks as he pushes past Jon and speed walks down one end of the alley.
“That’s why we should call my dad.” Jon says, keeping in pace with him, “He’s Superman, kids love Superman. Besides I don’t think we could even catch him, dad said he’s poisonous.
“What?” Damian stops walking to face Jon.
“Yeah, dad said to make sure not to get too close to his mouth,” Jon says, “Something about a coma?”
“You’ll go into a coma!?” Damian asks, taking out his phone and finding Bruce’s contact.
“Yeah… I think so, we’re not really sure.” Jon says, trying to remember exactly what his dad told him, “Your dad didn’t tell you?”
“I’ve blocked Bruce.”
“You blocked your dad?” Jon tilts his head, “What even happened in Gotham to make him run? I swear sometimes I think my family is dysfunctional and then I remember you guys exist. No offence, I’m sure you guys are lovely too… sometimes.”
Damian unlocks Bruce’s contact and rings him. Jon fiddles with his own phone, wondering if he should call his own dad or not, Jon’s pretty sure Peter couldn’t have gone far, he had seen him at the computers about 20 minutes ago. Then again his dad did say he managed to run away from Batman so who knows how fast he was.
“Damian,” Bruce’s voice calls over the phone, “How’s New York?”
“...” Damian takes a deep breath, he didn’t want to admit he lost Peter, but he also didn’t think he could find Peter before he got hurt again. “I lost Peter.”
“... I know”
“What!?”
“I had Bab’s hack into the library’s cameras,” He could hear the sound of a car door closing on Bruce’s end, “We lost visuals after he left the Subway, Clark is already in the area."
“Why didn’t you tell me!?” Damian growls into the phone.
“You blocked me, remember kiddo?” Damian could hear a car engine start."
“Tt"
“You and Jon head back to the hotel, Clark can handle this. I’ll be there in just over an hour. Do not look for him. I don’t want you getting hurt. Peter isn’t… in the right mind right now and he may do something drastic to get away. It’s safer for the both of you if Clark approaches this alone. He’s good with kids.”
“So is Richard and look at what happened.”
“We weren’t aware of his capabilities then. We are now. On another note, we believe he has enhanced hearing, don’t say anything that could stress him out.”
“Noted.” Damian hangs up the phone and heads towards the Subway entrance in the distance.
“We’re going back to the hotel right?” Jon asks following him.
“...”
“Right Damian?” Jon asks more instantly but sighs as he’s met with silence. He really hopes Superman finds Peter first, he doesn’t want to get bitten into a coma.
Peter had gotten out at the last stop, he had spent the entire 17 minute ride forming another plan to escape. He didn’t know much about Superman, but he knew some things; he could fly, he had super strength, and he was an alien. Peter wishes he actually read some more information on the hero but he had chosen to skip him in his search as he didn’t have the criteria he was looking for, he was looking for smart and/or magic. Superman didn’t appear to be either, so he didn’t bother reading further into him.
Three things to plan for; flying, strength, and alien. The alien part was useless information, more of a fun fact than something he could prepare for. The strength part; Peter was also very strong but just in case Superman was stronger, he’d make sure to dip as soon as he showed up to avoid any fighting. The flying part, Peter wouldn’t be able to rely on slinging away, he’s pretty sure flying was faster than swinging, he’d have to go somewhere out of view from above, inside somewhere with preferably no windows.
He could go back on the Subway but he’s sure they would have already alerted Batman about his disappearance so he needed to avoid cameras. The Subway was full of cameras. Peter also needed somewhere he could move, if they knew he was in New York, he probably couldn’t stay hidden for long. Peter let out a sigh, sewers it was, there better not be any alligators down here. Peter slipped into a vacant alleyway and bee-lined for the manhole cover, he had just lifted the cover up when his senses spiked.
He didn’t have time to react before he was lifted up by his waist, manhole cover still gripped tightly in his hands. Peter screamed. Struggling in his captors gripped, fear building as he was dangling over the New York skyline by a grip that wouldn’t loosen no matter how much he struggled. He could hear the person holding him speaking softly, reassuringly, but Peter wasn’t paying attention. Screaming and struggling until the person landed on the top of one of the tall skyscrapers. Peter’s feet weren’t touching the rooftop, he was still held firmly against the chest of presumably Superman. One arm holding him in place, while the other gently tried to pry the manhole cover out of his grip.
“Get off!” Peter screamed, “Stop kidnapping me!”
“Peter, I’m not-” Clark sighs, “Just let go of the cover first, it’s dirty.”
“You’re dirty!”
“I’m-” Clark sighs again, “I’m trying to help you.”
“By kidnapping me!?” Peter shouts, “Let go!”
“I’m not letting you go until you calm down,” Clark explains calmly, “It’s dangerous- Peter no!”
Clark grabs the manhole cover that Peter tried hitting him over his head with. Peter goes to bite at the arm in front of him, but Clark moves his arm away, yanking the cover out of the boy's arms and dropping it on the rooftop.
“No biting.” Clark chastises.
“Why are you even doing this?” Peter whines, “I didn’t even do anything”
“I know,” Clark says softly, “Your family’s worried about you, they can’t have you running around alone. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“My family?” Peter asks, confused.
“Yes Peter. Your dad sent me here to keep an eye on you, but… I’m not going to let you run off into the sewers, what if something happened down there? It’s not safe.”
“My dad? But didn’t Damian’s dad send you here?”
“He did…” Clark says, unsure if he should be the one to break the news to Peter, “Peter something very bad happened to you and… well, your family didn’t know until…”
Peter stopped struggling as he looked up at Clark, his hair was gelled back, and he was wearing his brightly coloured superhero suit.
“They didn’t know about you until recently,” Clark finally settles on, “If they did they would of been able to help you-”
“Are you saying Bruce is my dad? Batman thinks he’s my dad?” Peter asks, confused.
“How did you- Nevermind,” Clark begins, “Bruce knows you're his kid, biologically speaking. Do you know what biological means?”
“Oh my god” Peter whispers out as he processes this information.
“He wants to help you-” Clark is cut off by Peter.
“You’re all actually insane. Like clinically insane. I have a dad, and he aint him.” Peter says before he begins struggling in Clark’s grip again. “Get off me you psycho!”
“Peter!” Clark manages to avoid a headbutt, Peter going from ragdoll and stiff so quickly causing him to reposition his grip multiple times. “Peter, just calm down and listen.”
“I’m not listening to crazy people!” Peter shouts, shooting a web at the hero’s feet, it doesn’t hold for long but it was enough to distract him. Clark looks down at his feet, easily pulling his feet out of the webbing as Peter chomps down on his shoulder hard enough he could feel one of his front teeth breaking at the contact, he wasn’t sure if it was his blood in his mouth or Clarks.
It happened so quickly, Clark’s grip loosening almost immediately, one arm going to grab where Peter bit him as he stumbled backwards before falling onto the concrete roof.
Peter stood there, his missing tooth filling his mouth up with blood as he looked down at the barely conscious hero. Is he dying? Did Peter accidently kill Superman? Is he venomous now? Peter spat the blood out of his mouth, and crouched before the hero.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too!” Peter was panicking as he propped the hero up so he was leaning against the edge of the roof enterance. “Should I call someone? I don’t have a phone, do you have a phone?”
Peter stood up, pacing back and forth as his hands ran through his hair before he heard Clark mumble something. Immediately he was back by his side, trying to listen to his slurred words.
“I’m finne Peter,” Clark could feel Peter’s venom running through him, it was a warm feeling as it pumped through his circulation. It was fast acting, spreading through him quickly and shutting down his muscles.
Peter was listening closely, Clarks heartbeat was erratic, his breathing wasn’t horribly shallow but he wasn’t taking deep breaths either. But he was still conscious even if he was obviously struggling to keep his eyes open.
“Jsst temporrry,” Peter stayed crouched beside him, hands hovering nearby ready to catch Clark if he slumped over. “Not lonng”
Not long. Peter stood back up quickly taking a few steps back taking in the situation.
“Peeter wait” Clark’s eyes followed his movements. Peter stood there unsure if he should leave the hero and wait to get caught just in case his conditions worsened, or if he should just leave him to his own devices and use this as an opportunity to run. He stood there, uncertain of what to do, and he listened. It wasn’t until Peter heard Clarks heartbeat begin to calm down did he realise that Clark was going to be fine and would be up again soon. Only then did Peter decide to leave him, running to the edge of the building and jumping off before Clark could get another slurred word out.
Swinging from building to building, Peter raced through New York before he stopped on another roof. He looked towards the direction he had left Superman. He didn’t think he’d have long and he wasn’t sure if he could outrun Superman when he got back up. Especially not now when he’s proven himself to be so dangerous. He’d have to disguise himself somehow. He looks around him and notices a charity shop tucked into the row of buildings and swings over to the building's rooftop. The sun was beginning to set, the sky was a mix of orange and pinks, and the streets were filled with people on their way home. He’s sure someone would have seen him swinging between buildings but he was going fast enough that he doubts they would have had a good look at him. Not enough to identify him anyways.
He quickly climbs down and slips into the building. He makes his way to the clearance rack and begins rummaging through them when one of the workers comes up to him.
“Sweetheart, we’re closing in a few minutes. You can always come back tomorrow if you’d like.”
“I know it’s just…” Peter bites his lip, as he thinks of what to say, going for the innocent sweet kid approach, “My tooth fell out and I got blood on my clothes and I have… band practice I have to go to and my mum’s too busy to drop off spare clothes. Can you help me?”
Peter does his best attempt at puppy dog eyes.
“Oh” the worker coos at him, “Okay but it has to be quick, how much have you got on you?”
“$5.45” Peter smiles up at her, his missing front tooth on full display.
“It’s still bleeding,” she says as she runs over to the till and grabs the box of tissues. She heads back over to Peter and hands him a wad of tissue. “You hold that in place, till it stops okay? You still have your tooth?”
“No, I lost it.”
“Well I’m sure the tooth fairy will still be able to find it.” She says as she begins to go through the rack of clothes pulling out a black long-sleeved shirt and a bright blue hoodie with a faded Superman logo. “You like Superman?”
“...Yep,” Peter says with a fake smile on his face, “He’s my favourite.”
It wasn’t long before the lady ushered him into the changing room. Peter quickly slipped on the new top and the hoodie and shoved the black t-shirt Damian gave him into his bag on top of Ned's hoodie. He took out the money from the front pocket and left the changing room.
“Much better looking,” The lady smiled at him, “You better run off now, we are technically closed and you can’t miss your band practice.”
Peter tried to give the lady the money but she just waved him off.
“But I want to pay” Peter said sadly, he already built up enough bad karma today, what with locking a disabled bathroom and poisoning Superman, he didn’t want to add to the karma by stealing from a charity shop even if the clothes were given to him by the employee.
“No need, like I said, we are technically closed so you can’t buy anything.”
Peter pouts and looks at a pile of hats in a clothes-bin beside the lady. He grabs one of them, a plain black one.
“Can I buy this then?”
The woman grabs that hat off him and smoothly slips it on him, grabbing his shoulders as she leads him to the door.
“Out. No more shopping, I want to go home too y’know and I’m not reopening the till just for you to buy a baseball cap.” She opens the door for him, gives him a wave and shuts the door, locking it behind her before disappearing further inside.
Peter looks at his reflection in the glass and pulls his hat down further before he begins walking. That went way better than planned, despite the Superman hoodie that is. Speaking of Superman, Peter still had to find somewhere to hide out. Head facing the ground, Peter begins walking.
Bruce arrived outside the GreenWay Hotel, parking on the street outside as he pulled out his phone and rang Damian, after a few rings, it went to voicemail. Bruce sighed before ringing Clark, his heart fell a little as it continued ringing before going to voicemail as well. It wasn’t until he rang Jon, did someone actually pick up.
“Bruce!” Jon shouted through the phone, “Damian said not to pick up but I told him that- Hey!”
Bruce could hear commotion on the other end as Damian was trying to grab the phone out of his hand. He could hear muffled arguing before Damian picked up the phone.
“Father, I’m telling you I can handle this, you’re just going to scare him off again.” Damian said seriously, “We had already built a friendship before you sent them here and now he’s run off. If you didn’t intervene then none of this would have happened.”
“Damian,” Bruce speaks calmly, “Tell Jon to find his father.”
“... What?” Damian asks before the phone is snatched out of his hand and a panicked Jon is back on the phone.
“He’s missing!?!”
Peter stuck to the shadows as he continued walking, he didn’t have enough money for a train out of New York but he could always sneak onto one. Then again, he didn’t really want to leave. If he stayed low, eventually they’d think he’s left, besides, he knows these streets like the back of his hand, he could out maneuver anyone on home turf. He’d just disappear from the public view for a couple days and hopefully not go into hibernation. The temperature was dropping everyday and with the rampant homelessness here, all the good places would have been taken by now. All the homeless shelters would be full too and even if they weren’t they would sooner call CPS on him then let him stay. He’d even struggle to find a job, even the dodgy cash-in-hand places wouldn’t employ a kid that hasn’t reached puberty and the places that would hire him would definitely be a recipe for disaster. He’s started from scratch in New York before, but never as a child.
It took two hours, walking aimlessly through the streets as he thought of what he could do, before his senses picked up on something. He could hear fire trucks in the distance, and smell the smoke in the air. It really wasn’t his concern, he wasn’t spiderman right now, just a kid. Nevertheless, Peter found himself running towards the commotion. It was an old apartment building, the dark smoke billowing out of the first few floors as the fireman helped evacuate residents from the fire escapes. It looked to be under as much control as an apartment building on fire could be; there was no massive explosion, no out of control flames. It should be fine. The firefighters got there quickly and the crowd of evacuated residents and on-lookers watched on safely from the street, praying that not everything they owned would be destroyed by the flames. Peter really should leave. He was supposed to be laying low and this building was like a giant beacon for any heroes in the area.
But there were no heroes in the area. No New York superheroes, and although Superman was technically in the area, Peter had paralyzed him on the other side of the city. Damian and Jon maybe, but they were still kids, and Peter wasn’t actually 100% sure if they were even vigilantes. Peter would be quick, poke his head in, just make sure no-ones stuck inside and all the pets are out, then he’d go. In and out.
Running back into a nearby alley, Peter quickly scaled the wall until he reached the roof. Looking over, he aimed his wrist at one of the smoke filled windows and webbed himself inside. Peter coughed when he entered, he held the collar of his hoodie over his mouth and nose as he kicked open the apartment door to get into the hallway. He moved quickly, listening for any movement before he heard someone coughing inside one of the rooms. Making his way inside he could hear the harsh coughing in the bedroom and Peter nearly pulled the door off its hinges as he entered the room. Lying on the bed was an elderly man still attached to a sleep apnea machine, the man coughed as Peter immediately broke the window in the bedroom, and ran back to the bed.
“Come on,” Peter said as he slipped the mask off the man, and pulled one of his arms over his shoulder half-dragging him to the broken window. It wasn’t like he was heavy for Peter, it was just awkward to carry someone bigger than you. Eventually Peter had managed to get the man out of the window without cutting him on the glass. With one arm clutching tightly to the man, he stuck himself to the brick wall outside before slowly making his way down to the fire escape a few floors below. He shouted out to get the firefighter’s attention as he helped the man lean against the railing. They acted quickly, two of them already climbing up the metal ladders to reach them before Peter climbed back inside the building.
He was running now, racing up the stairs, stopping on every floor to listen for anything before running up to the next. He could hear the slow creaking of the building around him as supporting structures weakened from the flames and he could smell the slight scent of gas hidden under the smoke indicating the cause of the fire; a gas leak. By the time he reached the roof, he had two cats and a goldfish bowl in his arms. Struggling to not drop the animals, he made it to the edge of the roof and looked down, the fire escape didn’t reach the rooftop, but it did reach the floor below, he could jump but he didn’t think the goldfish would survive it. The two firefighters who had seen Peter with the elderly man were still on the fire escape, one of them about to enter the building to look for him before he shouted to get their attention.
“Hey!” Peter called out lifting his arms to show them the animals he had. “Up here!”
The two firefighters immediately raced up the fire escape, they’d be able to help him down, or at least he’d be able to pass the pets to them first. They had almost reached him when Peter heard a loud crack below him and the roof caved in beneath his feet. His arms were too full to catch himself as he fell back first into the apartment below. Landing with a loud crack, Peter hoped he hadn’t broken anything too important, as slowly sat up. He was still holding the two cats that were now clawing at his new jumper trying to escape, while the fish bowl only had less than an inch of water in it. The fish was not even fully submerged anymore, its back fin poking out into the air. Peter heard the floor groan beneath him as he stood up. He had to get out before the rest of the floors caved.
It was hard to get to the window, Peter having to kick some debris away before he could even see it. With another harsh kick, the window shattered, and Peter carefully climbed over the still pile of metal and concrete that covered half of it. He had barely stuck his head out before the two firefighters were shouting again, they had spotted Peter, there wasn’t a fire escape on this window but there was next to it. The two firefighters had already made it there, and were reaching towards him. Peter managed to pass over the fish bowl and one of the cats before the other cat jumped out of his grip and back into the building. He could hear the firefighters shouting as Peter ducked back inside, he went through all that trouble to save it, he wasn’t going to let it kill itself.
“Come here” Peter coughed, his eyes watery from the smoke and dust in the air as the cat tried to climb back out of the hole in the roof. Peter had just managed to catch it before a large piece of rubble smacked him hard in the head from above. His knees gave way beneath him as he held the cat tightly. With a groan Peter stood back up, he could feel warm blood trickle from his head as he staggered back to the window where one of the firefighters was halfway through.
“Get here now!” the woman shouted at him, reaching an arm out as Peter struggled to follow her command.
It felt like he was walking forever before he reached her, she grabbed his arm firmly and all but pulled him through the window. She was on one of those fire truck ladders that slowly lowered them both to the ground. The smoke inhalation and the concussion left Peter tired, at some point the cat was taken off him and the woman handed him over to another firefighter as she climbed off the roof of the truck.
“Peter!” he heard someone shout, he couldn’t place the voice, his senses scrambled as he held tightly to the firefighter still holding him. He didn’t want to be kidnapped again so soon and he didn’t have the strength to perform another daring escape. So he held tightly to the firefighter, they wouldn’t be able to kidnap him if he didn’t let go. The flashing lights of the truck and the bustle around him was making his headache worse as he buried his face into the man's jacket.
“Peter!” the voice shouted again, right next to him this time. “Is he okay?”
“He’s going to be okay,” the man said, “Are you his friend?”
“Damian. I’m his brother.” Damian reaches over to him, trying to find any injuries.
“Where’s your parent’s Damian,” the man said calmly as he began walking towards the nearby ambulance, “He needs to go to the hospital, I heard he hit his head pretty badly.”
“How bad?”
“Enough for you to call your parents.” The two paramedics in the ambulance were giving oxygen to the elderly man Peter had saved earlier. Spotting Peter, one of the paramedics jumped up running towards them.
“He’s still conscious.” The man told the paramedic, “He breathed in a lot of smoke and he was on the rooftop when it collapsed. We don’t know much else.”
The firefighter tried to put Peter down on the ambulance cot but Peter wasn’t letting go.
“Peter?” the man said as he was crouched over the bed, Peter still wrapped tightly around him, “You gotta let go okay, they can’t help you if you keep holding on.”
“No.” Peter grumbled, he wasn’t getting kidnapped nor was he going to the hospital. “I don’t need help.”
“Yes you do,” Damian began, climbing into the ambulance and sitting in one of the seats, texting someone on his phone. “Let go of the fireman Peter.”
“No. I’m not going to the hospital.”
“We don’t have to go to the hospital straight away, okay?” The paramedic said, “Just let me take a look at you first, then we can decide. You gotta let go of the fire fighter, he has to go back out there and help others.”
It took a few moments before Peter finally let go, sitting up when they tried to get him to lie down. He watched the man leave and he looked over to Damian.
“Who were you texting?”
“...Jon”
“Really?”
“Peter,” the paramedic was holding a small flashlight. “It’s gonna sting a bit but I need you to try to keep your eyes open. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah” he squinted into the light as the paramedic checked for dilated pupils before turning it off and putting it in her pocket.
“I know your head hurts real bad right now but does anywhere else hurt?” she asks, “They said you had a bit of a fall and I wanna know if you broke any bones.”
“No, my head doesn’t even hurt that much so I think I should just go.”
“You have a concussion. You also breathed in a lot of smoke.”
“And now I’m breathing in the smog of New York,” Peter joked, “I don’t think there's much of a difference”
“There is.” the paramedic explains before turning to Damian, “Did you call your parent’s yet?”
“My Dad’s nearby,” Damian says carefully, glancing towards Peter, “I think we should wait for him.”
“I think so too!” Peter said, “Can I sit outside until he shows up?”
“Where’s your tooth gone?” Damian interrupts.
“I… lost it.” Peter said turning back to the paramedics, “Please can I wait outside, it smells like chemicals in here.”
“Let me check that wound of yours first.”
“Can we do that outside?”
“You’re not gonna let me look unless we do it outside are you?”
“Yep.”