Cold shadows
Back pain is a very real thing. Of course Peter has always known that, from things such as being thrown through buildings, being hit by flying vehicles, whipped, stabbed, punched, attacked, shot and so on and so forth.
But it had never been this apparent. This was an ache that struck him right down to the core. Like a cold sore that just won’t go away no matter how many times you drink all that disgusting salt water.
He had been in this dingy town for what felt like forever now. His spider-senses were buzzing like they did on a shitty day in queens, yet it wasn’t even raining. Sure there were fat gloomy gray clouds that looked as though they went on for miles, but not a drop of rain in sight.
He wished extra hard right about now that he had packed some kind of super-powered ibuprofen before school. His whole body felt like it was on fire. It was sore inside and out, he felt like a wrung out cloth.
He felt filthy too which was just a major bummer on his part. Nothing was worse to Peter than being filthy. He could feel every last molecule of dirt on his body. They shifted every time he moved and made his skin feel like it was crawling with bugs beneath the surface. Bugs that he needed to scratch out of his bare skin.
(Thanks to his heightened senses.)
Everything was so damn loud in this city. His ears were practically ringing.
He needs to find a library. Preferably sooner rather than later.
______
Barbra prided herself on being alert, of course all the bats were. But not like Barbra. She was always ready to go. She had her station and her coffee and that’s all she needed, sure she couldn’t exactly soar through the skies like the others anymore like she yearned to.
But she didn’t need to, she was their eyes in the skies. She saw things no one else could. Plus, she had her own peace. She didn’t have to stay at the manor like some of the others, she had the library to look after.
Sure it got a little quiet at times but it was still nice. She never dealt with rude customers, (which was shocking for a place like Gotham) she knew all her customers by name, she was able to snap back into work at the drop of a hat and she had a mini kitchen in the back.
So yeah, not bad at all.
She was on alert. She always was. So how the hell did she not notice someone coming in?
She wouldn’t have even known they were there had it not been for the motion sensors by the bookshelves.
Someone had made it all the way from the entrance, to the end of the library without Barbra noticing.
Barbra knew she had to be careful. She still remembered what had happened the last time she wasn’t. How she ended up in this wheelchair.
She unlocked her wheels as quietly as possible. She rolled her way from the back office to her front desk while keeping an eye out for the perpetrator. Some kind of goon? A robber? Why the library though? What the hell could they need from there?
She picked up her phone from underneath her desk and quickly opened the cameras. Gotham may not have been able to fund the library, but Bruce Wayne sure could.
She mentally prepared herself for the worst. Signal should be out on patrol right now, she could call him if she needed backup. She was strong. Losing the use of her legs couldn’t take batwoman away from her. She was a force to be reckoned with. And today, someone was going to find that out the hard way.
“No signal.” The screen flashed brightly.
Fine. No problem, Barbra could do a bit of sneaking about without her technology.
She held her breath to make herself as silent as possible, she gripped her wheels gently pushing forwards so as to not make a sound.
Rounding the corner she saw..
A kid?
______
Here is what Peter knows, he has fallen into an alternate universe (awesome? In some aspects?) He is in Jersey (ugh) in a town he has never heard of in his whole life called Gotham, the people here suck, his soreness has in fact not gone away even with his healing factor and he smells like smoke for whatever reason?
Peter found the library rather quickly, it was large and had strange gothic architecture like most of what he would describe as “old Gotham”
The steps were somehow both large and steep. Which was odd to him, but hey maybe the people of this universe like it that way.
From the top of the steps just standing outside the door he took note of a few things, there is only one heartbeat inside and there is high security judging by the low humming he could hear coming from the walls.
He opened the door carefully so as to not startle whoever may be inside and made his way in. A straight bee-line for the bookshelves and computers was the safest option considering he didn’t have a library card and didn’t quite have the documents to get one.
His initial search of the shelves didn’t give him much to work with. Neither did the fifth. Computers it is.
Peter had been all the library for about eight minutes before he noticed the low hum spike for a moment before dropping back down.
A motion detector? No matter, he will be in and out. Surely no one really checks on those things right?
Peter turned and began his stride towards the computers when-
Watching, confused, concerned.
Peter whipped his head to the side to see who was watching him. The librarian. A slim yet strong outlined woman with a head of thick orange hair. She had flawless skin and glasses that complimented her eyes like the snow reflects the sun.
Her wheelchair somehow managed to make the woman even scarier than before, she clearly had fighting experience. That much Peter knew by just a quick glance.
Her head was tilted slightly to the side and her expression was of pure bewilderment, anger and pity. Peter hated that look. He hated others taking pity on him like he was some kind of charity case. She quickly took notice of how Peter was reading her like a book and plastered on a warm tight lipped smile before speaking.
“Hey I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come in. Is there anything I can do for you hun?”
“Oh, that’s quite alright. Thank you for the offer though.”
She nodded solemnly, putting in effort to ensure her faux smile didn’t slip back into blatant concern.
Peter didn’t know why she would be confused. There was nothing wrong with him. Was there?
Maybe the people in this dimension were all women? No, he met a very rude man on the walk here. Maybe it was his hair colour?
Whatever, the less time he spends in this world the better.
Peter stalked towards the computers clutching his bag once more. Like he always did when he felt he was missing something or when he was uncomfortable. Of course, that’d be something he’d only admit on his deathbed.
His head throbbed tightly, his throat was hoarse and he hadn’t felt this null in a while. That sort of feeling when you only vaguely know what’s going on. You blink and suddenly you are somewhere entirely different than where you were only moments ago and yet you still can’t bring yourself to wonder about it. You feel like you genuinely can’t care about anything at all. You know you do, you just don’t remember how until it’s over.
You are purely mission oriented on what you were planning on doing or were told to do. Only following what everyone else said. Unable to think for yourself.
No matter though, he only had one small task. Get information on Gotham. He sat down at one of the computer desks absently clicking his finger off and on of the “ON” button.
“Library account and password.” The screen showed blankly. It was as though it knew what a bad day he was having and couldn’t bring itself to care. No sympathy. No pity. Maybe it felt just like Peter did now. Empty.
He didn’t have a card or an account. But he had Ned. He knew he wasn’t as good as Ned was when it came to hacking, that stuff just didn’t really interest him. That wasn’t going to stop him.
______
It took him about thirty seconds to get in. The technology here was nowhere as near as what it was in his world.
Of course that wasn’t all that shocking considering that they didn’t have a brilliant Tony Stark (much to Peter’s surprise.)
He scrolled through hundreds of history documents for about four hours. Instead of the Avengers, they had something called the “Justice League” not the best name in Peter’s opinion, but still not as bad as “SuperBoy” so it gets a pass.
He had enough for now, he knew the majority of the vigilantes and superheroes, he knew the town's latest news and all large controversies. This would do for now.
He slung his backpack over his shoulder, pushed in his chair, let out a small yawn and headed back to the front of the library to make his exit.
“Checking out any books today?” The woman asked lightly, curiosity evident in her voice. “I should be alright, thank you though.” She hesitated for a moment as if there was more she wanted to say, more she needed to say but decided against it.
“Okay then, have a nice day kiddo.” She said as if biting her tongue to repress any further thoughts. “You as well Miss..?” “Barbra, Barbra Gordon.” She said face suddenly lit up as if she had some revolutionary idea. “And you are?” She asked when Peter gave no response apart from a quick nod.
Pater was no idiot. He knew that there was no guarantee that he didn’t have a counterpart in this world. Full names were a no-go. He needed to think of something and fast. “I’m Peter.” He spouted out. “Peteerrrr?” She was dragging out the name as if to emphasize that she wanted a full name. “Peter Wescott.”
Peter nearly stumbled backwards upon hearing the words leave his mouth. They tasted like poison on his tongue. Why would he say that? He felt sick to his stomach. The walls were closing in on him. At least it felt like they were. He had to go.
“Well it’s good to meet you Peter Wescott. Maybe next time you’ll grab a library card beforehand.”
The words coming from her mouth were a blur. “You too Miss Barbra.” Peter replied quietly.
Before either of them could get another word in he was out the door. Not quite running, but not walking either. Not like any of that mattered though. He needed to get out of here.
He had nowhere to go and the clouds above were only growing thicker and shading the sky even further.
His head was pounding and swirling worse than before. He stumbled through one of the alleys in the area he had woken up in called “Park Row.”
Everyone either avoided him or were planning on mugging him. Peter wandered off from people plotting on the ladder. Eventually, he found his way to an old half burnt building covered in soot and ash. The fire escapes were still intact along with the overall structure despite the extensive damage.
He clutched his bag tightly to his person and climbed up to his temporary home. He had stayed in much worse conditions, this would be nothing new. Asides from the fact that the rats were less common here. (thankfully.)
______
Batchat
Babs: Incident at the library today..
Dick: What do you mean? Do you need backup or anything?
Babs: No, there was a kid who came in today and I’m worried about him..
Bruce: What do you mean?
Jay: Bruce we are not picking up anymore kids. That’s final.
Babs: It was bad. Worse than anything I’ve seen. He was covered in blood, bruises and clearly had a few broken bones.
Dick: Babs.. we have seen much worse than that..
Babs: I know but you should have seen the kid, he looked like Bambi for heaven's sake. Not just that but he looked far too used to having broken limbs. He was good at hiding it too, I wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the thermal cams behind the desk.
Tim: Look, it sucks that he got beat up by some gang or something but we are really busy with our current cases.
Babs: He was able to hack into the library computers and get from the entrance to the back without me noticing. My first initial thought was to call for backup and prepare for a fight. Then I saw a scrawny kid covered in blood. He read me like a damn book. All I got out of the kid was a name.
Bruce: What class was he?
Babs: Alley kid. No doubt about it. He was practically swimming in his clothes, his shoes were barely holding together and he looked like shit.
Babs: There is a chance he could be involved in trafficking or a crime ring. He hacked into those computers for something. He could be forced into ordering bombs or drugs or even searching for military secrets. I’m genuinely worried about the kid.
Jay: I’ll swing by to check on him tonight if I spot him
Babs: Thank you Jay, I’ll send you a brief description of the kid.
______
It was a brisk night and the rain just wouldn’t let up. Peter briefly wondered if the reason they called it Gotham was due to the goth vibe to the city. Nonetheless, it wasn’t safe to stay in this leaky apartment building.
He couldn’t shake the sick feeling he had gotten when he told Barbra his name. He could have picked anyone and he chose his old foster parents. Why?
Maybe a walk could clear his head. He should at least find a place to stay. Maybe they had homeless shelters here?
His spider-sense was weak and so was he. His abilities were too busy focusing on his injuries. Everything hurts. His back was definitely broken along with his shoulder, leg, ribs and forearm. He is pretty sure he shattered his head right open. He crept up to a small shattered mirror. Blood was everywhere. The back of his neck practically looked like the Red Sea. His head was covered in it and it was all over his forehead and some of his face too.
The bruises were quite the unpleasant sight, his face was swollen in some parts and pretty much his whole back was covered in a sickening deep purple colour. He had a shit-ton of bruises everywhere else too, that one just happened to be the most prominent.
It would be a few weeks before his broken limbs healed, if he was well fed it would only be one. He did know to be grateful for his healing factor nonetheless. If he didn’t have it he would probably be paralyzed from his back injuries right now. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that if he didn’t have his spider sense, he likely would have died on impact.
Yeah, maybe a walk would be good.
He gently hobbled down the fire escape, being careful not to aggravate the damage. Once he got to the street, he hovered for a moment, looking over the eerie scene. The whole area reeked of blood, gunpowder and smoke.
His head was still foggy and it was like nothing was real. He was so disappointed and disgusted by what was said earlier that he couldn’t focus.
It had already been a whole year. Why wasn’t he over it?
He pushed all of those ideas to the side and began his search for a homeless shelter. He had never stayed in one in Queens because they had all been shut down due to the lousy mayor trying to save money. So most of the homeless people were kicked out of Queens all together.
His spider-sense was so out of it he couldn’t even hear that low hum anymore like he always did. He needed to get off the streets.
Every turn was worse than the last. The streets went from having a gross amount of garbage everywhere to having a gross amount of abandoned guns and bullet casings.
A large lit up sign caught Peter’s eye. “Brewery Homeless shelter, open 24/7 365.” It seemed much more run-down than any other building on the block but it would have to do. Just for today right?
Behind. Curious. Deadly. Friendly.
“Hey kid, it’s late, you should get home.” Peter stared at the six foot three behemoth of a man in front of him. He had a brown leather jacket and a black skin tight Kevlar suit with red bat logo on it paired with a red helmet mask thingy.
“Thank you but I’m already on my way there. And I’m not a kid.” Peter replied, hoping to leave it at that. This was Red hood. He saw a brief description of the man on Wikipedia, no images though. But that description was right on the nose.
“Alright. How about I bring you there, kid.” He said blatantly as if it was the obvious reply, squashing Peter’s hopes like a beetle under a tire. “Still not a kid and thanks again but haven’t you ever heard of stranger danger?” Hood scoffed at him like it was absurd for him to say such a thing. “Trust me I’m safer than anyone else in this damn area.” He grumbled looking around as if trying to find someone to prove his point.
“And how am I supposed to know that? To me you are just an old man wearing an odd getup.” Peter replied snarkily. “An old man? You’re not from here, are you?” Red hood breathed out “is it that obvious? And yeah, if I’m a kid you’re an old man.” Peter said plainly.
“I’m one of the bats, the protectors of Gotham.” “I know, I read an article about you. Although it did say that you were a crime lord? So I’m going to need a bit of help painting this picture here.” Hood huffed again as if he had never been more annoyed in his life. “Look kid, just trust me okay?” Peter hesitated for a moment, taking in everything about the overtly large man and huffed out a large sigh “fine, whatever you say old man.”
“So where to?” The older man asked. And that’s when it hit him, Peter didn’t know his way around in the slightest. He didn’t even know any street names. “At an old apartment building just up the block or something.” Peter said dryly praying that it was enough to get the man to leave him alone so as to not expose himself.
“You don’t know your own address?” Hood scoffed. “You said it yourself that I’m not from around here.” And boy was that true. “Yeah yeah whatever. Alright, we’ll walk then, you tell me when you see it.” Was he really going to follow him all the way there? He could make a break for it if he really needed to, he was without a doubt faster than him as long as he isn’t a mutant or enhanced like Peter.
______
The first few minutes of the walk were spent in silence. And calling it comfortable would be a long reach. The old man was the first to break it.
“So what’s got you all banged up?” He asked far too casually. “Just some jerks at school.” Peter replied nonchalantly.
“Couple of jerks at school broke multiple of your bones and left you covered in blood ‘n bruises?” Hood asked in a way that made Peter’s initial lie sound incredibly idiotic. “Yeah, people suck. What’s it to you?” Peter replied, trying to shrug off Hood's suspicion.
“Okay okay, no need to snap back.” Hood responded almost defensively. “What school do you go to anyway?” Why was this guy trying to catch Peter in a lie at every turn? Not like he can blame him though. Peter has been through the same scenario multiple times before in queens as Spider-man.
“Midtown high.” Peter said after a moment. “It’s not here in Gotham though, it’s back home in queens.” After taking a moment to think, Hood gave his reply. “So what brought you here anyway?”
Peter couldn’t exactly reply with what had really happened. “The kid’s down there were jerks. My parents were already in big trouble money wise, and when I started coming home as a walking medical bill things just became too expensive. So they sent me here to live with my aunt and uncle until they could get back up on their feet.” The silence weighed heavy on the both of them and Peter prayed it wasn’t because Hood knew he was lying.
This time however, Peter’s empty stomach decided to break the silence. “Hungry, huh Kid?” Hood plied, slight amusement in his voice. “I’m fine. I’ll be home soon anyway, Old man.”
Hood stopped abruptly grabbing Peter’s hood and pulling him back to prevent him from continuing his stroll. “You don’t even know where home is. We both know it's going to take awhile before we find it. And to be frank, you look like a starving deer.” Hood emphasized the starving part to make a point. “So? You look like a two year old’s failed attempt at drawing Deadpool and The Hulk mixed together but you don’t see me mentioning that do you?”
Peter retorted. He didn’t really know why he pushed others away. Even if it was only through his incredible sense of humor. Red hood was only trying to help and Peter wanted nothing more than to run away.
He had always been a “problem” everyone always told him that. That he was nothing more than just a “Useless, dirty, problem and it was his fault that everyone around him always seemed to die.” He knew they were right. It was just hard to admit out loud.
So he covered up how sick of himself, sick of everything, sick of life itself with his witty and restless humor. This would be the same. If Red Hood did get close like Peter feared, he’d just be another person to bury. Peter doesn’t get close to people anymore for that exact reason. “I’m almost home anyway Old Man. Just drop me off and I'll be out of your hair.” Please, just leave him be. “Not a chance, plus there is a good burger joint just down the street I've been wanting to try.” Peter didn’t know why this damned guy was so persistent.
They had been walking for about a good ten minutes at this point. The dreary city only seemed to grow on him. As dumb as it sounded, it was almost poetic, in a way. The grotesque violence and animosity of the city was so cruel, yet the sunset peeking out from behind the clouds was built on pure divinity.
It had always been like Peter to find beauty in the worst of places. Hood must’ve seen him starting because for a brief second, they stopped. Taking in the sight if only for a moment. It was lovely.
Hood rested his hand on Peter’s shoulder and began to speak. “You like watching sunsets, huh?” Peter only nodded, not wanting his voice to tear this view away from him. “Here, I know a place where we can see it a little better.” Peter turned his head to look at Hood, yet kept his eyes on the sky a few seconds longer before finally giving Hood his whole attention.
Hood crouched down and got on his knees, being about Peter’s size now. “Get on.” What? Was he crazy? What made him think that he would actually get on his back? Peter had a dumb look of both curiosity and shock on his face for about two minutes before Hood said once more “Well, what are you waiting for kiddo?” “You.. you want me to get on your back?” Hood tilted his head and let out a light hearted laugh that he clearly hadn’t had for a while.
“Yeah? C’mon. I got a spot.” Peter hesitated before climbing on his back and wrapping his arms around Hood's neck. It wasn’t until Hood stood up that Peter realized just how tall Hood genuinely was. He reached into the belt around his waist and pulled out a- A grappling hook? Peter hadn’t actually seen one before. Despite spending a while hanging out with Mr. Stark. Although I guess when you have a suit made of iron that can fly anywhere and everywhere you don’t exactly need one.
Although Peter did remember that Ms. Natasha and Mr. Clint did have one, Clint probably still does.
Peter’s jaw was quickly swept off the floor once Red Hood lifted the arm holding the grappler and shot it straight towards a roof. Peter jolted nearly falling off when they practically flew off the ground and to the roof. Hood must’ve known Peter was slipping because he put his non-dominant hand on the arms Peter had wrapped around Hood’s neck. Of course, Peter could hold on if he wanted to, but that kind of strength or stickiness would be odd for a scrawny fourteen year old.
“I used to hang out here all the time back when I was an alley kid.” Hood said, staring up at the sky. He didn’t seem like the sentimental type. Maybe Peter had been too quick to judge? He climbed down from Hood’s back nearly tumbling over. “What changed?” Peter asked curiously. He hadn’t meant to, he only meant to think about it in his head. But as per-usual, Peter got carried away. “What do you mean?” Hood asked, eyeing Peter sharply.The laughter had drained from his voice immediately after it began. But now, the voice Hood had been using before, seemed like a kitten purring compared to the one he used currently. It didn’t scare Peter, nothing really did. Not anymore.
Peter looked up to the sky, away from Hood and spoke once more. “You don’t watch sunsets anymore, do you?” Peter asked lightly. Hood seemed to be giving off both anger and relaxation. An odd pair. Although the few times he had met him, DareDevil had the same composure.
The quiet settled in making its way between them. Peter wasn’t in desperate need of an answer, so instead of prodding, he sat down, hanging his feet off the roof. “You stay here, I’ll go grab those burgers. Alright kid?” “Yeah, okay old man.”
Peter knows what he thought earlier about not wanting anyone to get too close, but Red Hood didn’t seem so bad. Plus it's not like Peter would ever see him again anyway. Hood leapt off the roof, leaving Peter to his thoughts. Why did Hood care about Peter anyway? There are way more kids in Park Row who probably have it way worse than Peter does, let alone all of Gotham. So then why does Peter matter? He shouldn't. He knows that much. And while Red Hood’s company is nice it would be better that he left Peter alone anyway before he either finds something he doesn’t like or gets himself hurt.
The sun had begun to set a reasonable amount since Red Hood had left and Peter couldn’t help but wonder, did he drive him away? Did he leave Peter up here in hopes he would jump off and be one less person to deal with? Is it because of Peter’s question? He hadn’t meant to ask it. He just got carried away is all.
Although Peter wouldn’t blame him if he had left.
Hello! Friend. Watching. Curious.
“Hey kiddo, sorry I took so long. You wouldn’t believe the line up.” Hood tossed a burger at Peter and promptly sat down beside him. Peter caught the tightly wrapped burger and held it for a minute before looking up at Hood. “Something wrong kid?” Peter glanced down at the burger one more time before looking back up at Hood. “Is this for me?” Peter asked timidly. “Yeah? Why else would I have bought it?” Hood asked, tilting his head to the side to make his confusion obvious.
Considering that for your average person it would be hard to tell what tone of voice he is using with that voice modulator of his. Luckily for Peter though, he has incredible hearing. (Thanks to the spider-bite.)
Peter thoughtfully glanced back up at the sky, maybe Red Hood was softer than he thought? Of course, He’d never tell him that considering that it's very obvious that the only reason Hood allows his light-hearted tone to be just that is because usually his voice modulator would prevent anyone from hearing any emotion in his tone. But once again, Peter is Peter. Peter’s guess is that Hood usually pretends to be super tough. He probably is, he’s quick to anger too. Peter saw that when he asked him ‘what changed’. Let’s get something straight first, Peter doesn't actually know what Hood sounds like due to the viscosity of the voice modulator, but he does have a good sense of the emotion in his voice.
“Thank you Mr Hood.” Peter said calmly looking up at the sky before biting into his food. Red Hood is cool. Peter was a bit torn as to whether or not the guy was as cool as he looked. But he cared, sure he hid his emotions from people. But he watched sunsets, helped homeless kids, defended Gotham and made friendly banter all while looking badass. So yeah, he was pretty cool in Peter’s book. Peter scarfed his burger down like his life depended on it, Hood definitely took note of that because he reached into the brown paper bag and tossed another warm burger at him. Peter hadn’t eaten since last monday when his food went stale, so he was as hungry as a hound. It really didn’t help that he had enhanced metabolism at times like this.
“So, you got a name? Or am I just gonna keep calling you kid.” Peter’s heart sank. Peter Parker. He wanted to scream the name at the top of his lungs. That was his name. He wanted to go back. He'd rather have said his real name. No going back now. The fog had already settled in.
“Peter Wescott.”
______
“So, you got a name? Or am I just gonna keep calling you kid.” Jason regretted the words almost immediately. The kid looked like Jason had just thrown Peter’s mother off a damn cliff when he said that. Jason saw now what Barbra had meant.
The kid paled and swallowed hesitantly before continuing. Barbra had told him how the kid hesitated before giving his name and ran away directly after but a slim piece of Jason hoped that wasn’t the case. What could cause a kid to react like that to his own name? Maybe that’s just it. Maybe it isn’t his name, if he was being trafficked like earlier suspected or is being forced to do certain things by a gang then maybe they had him living under a false identity as well? That has to be it.
Jason would already have the kid back at the batcave by now if it didn’t mean Bruce getting his hands on him. Their family has been doing so good lately. Ever since Bruce got back and the whole family devoted themselves towards getting better there hadn’t been any screaming matches or even arguments in nearly a year. But that didn’t mean Jason had to be on the best of terms with Bruce. There was no way in hell Jason was going to let this damn kid become a robin. That simply wasn’t going to happen. Bruce had ruined the lives of enough children by making them one already.
(Jason knew that wasn’t the case. But it was easier to blame Bruce for everything then work things out. Nonetheless this kid will not become a robin.)
Peter Westcott. Jason made sure the mic and camera in his helmet were on. If it was possible, he’d like to keep the kid just between him and Barbra. Two people knowing was already too many. He didn’t want to increase the chance of anyone in the family wanting another sibling.
Peter was picking at the skin of his fingers. Pulling back hangnails until they bled and pinching at his skin. Jason took notice of his discomfort and decided to change the topic.“What are your aunt and uncle’s names?”Jason just couldn’t stop bringing up the wrong things could he? Because the moment the words escaped his lips Peter swallowed even harder. Tears pin pricking at the corner of his eyes. “My uncle’s name is Ben, and my aunt’s name is May.” This time however, Peter didn’t look distinctly uncomfortable. But instead, despite the tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill, Peter looked back at the kind sunset, And smiled.
Not a fake smile either, but a warm and thoughtful smile. He was grateful that they had been brought up. But he clearly couldn’t hold a conversation about them. Didn’t he live with them temporarily at the moment? Why would he react like this to someone he is literally living with being brought up. It would be one thing if he looked scared or upset. But he didn’t, he nearly looked like he had come to terms with something. He looked like he understood grief all too well for a child. He reminded Jason of himself. And Jason couldn’t bare that. “You’d better get home now.” Jason said both suddenly and sternly. He got to his feet and walked to the ledge. “I’m sorry kiddo, but I got.. A case to work on.” A blatant lie. Hood jumped off the roof without saying anything more.
______
Peter was quickly pulled from his thoughts.
Had he said something wrong? Why was Hood leaving? Peter shoved the second still-wrapped burger in his pocket and rested his back against the furnace box once more. He just had to run his mouth didn’t he? This is why he can’t let people get close. He always messes up. He’s nothing more than a problem.
The clouds coming behind him are so dark that if he didn’t already know what they were he’d assume half the sky had fallen into night.
The storm was incoming, he had to find refuge from its rage. Where was that shelter again?
He stood up from his spot and looked out at the city below, Red Hood was long gone by now. Still his spider-senses were nagging at him that something was still there. He hadn’t felt that way since he first went out in the suit that Mr. Stark made him. Red hood placed a tracker on him.
Peter patted himself down before catching a glimpse of it on his ankle. Yet another thing that if Peter wasn’t Peter, he wouldn’t have noticed. Should he remove it? Would it be too soon? He can’t risk raising suspicion. He’ll remove it when he gets to the brewery and leave it there. No harm no foul, right?
Peter picked up his feet and stood at the very edge. Despite his spider-senses telling him that nothing was near, he still checked.
The only way down was a ratchet old fire escape. With every step Peter took down the damn thing it made an eerie creaking sound. He didn’t trust it as far as he could throw it. (Although that expression doesn’t work much for Peter considering he could throw the whole damn building if he wanted to.)
The ground was moist and crumbly beneath his feet. He briefly wondered if it would swallow him whole.
He was so tired. Sure the fact that he fell from the sky yesterday didn’t help, but he was exhausted. He tightened his backpack straps and kept walking. He was in no condition to fight off a mugger. At this rate, he was so tired, his abilities were so focused on his healing that he would lose against a damn toddler.
Looking down the street he was relieved to see the brewery. The parking lot was empty and he couldn’t hear anyone in the building aside from the woman behind the register. Maybe they kicked out most of Gotham’s homeless too? Peter crept through the door, nearly unnoticed had it not been for the bell. A thin yet buff woman glanced up at him from behind the counter. She had arm tattoos, black hair thrown up, Smokey eye makeup, olive skin, a white tank top, and ragged jeans. “Hey kid, what can I do for ya.” She said, a Brooklyn accent notable in her voice. Why did everyone keep calling him a kid? “Um, I’m sorry but do you have any rooms I could take? Just for the night.” She looked him up and down before smirking in a sly way. “Sure sugar. Just follow me.”
Peter followed her through three hallways and one set of stairs before they found the “available” rooms. This place was like a maze. All of the other rooms were empty, why did they have to take one all the way over here? The red exit sign on the door beside Peter’s room for the night flashed brightly, not helping his headache in the slightest. He thanked the woman politely before closing the door and locking it behind him. The room was a lot colder than it was outside. To the point where Peter was turning a gnarly shade of purple. He only needs to stay for one night.
He saw a shadow in the corner of his eye and felt shiver run down his spine. He dropped both his bag and the tracker Jason had placed on him beneath his bed. Sitting down and looking around, the place seemed rather bare. The only thing in the room was a broken bed, a camera and a worn thin blanket. Still, it was enough for Peter. He's had much worse.
He stared around the room sullenly, thinking over his interaction with Hood. He didn’t think he did anything wrong. Then again, this world is entirely foreign to him. He could have said something offensive without even realising it. It’s already a wonder that people here even speak english. Peter stood up off the bed and began to ponder. The woman, (“Bianca” as Peter read on her name tag.) was outside on a phone call that Peter was too tired to listen to. He’d think more on the matter in the morning. For now, the best thing he could do was sleep.
______
Peter sat up immediately after he awoke to the sound of the locked door shaking. As it turns out it had only gotten colder. He was freezing, so much so that he felt like he could barely move. His lack of thermoregulation wasn’t helping in the slightest. Neither was the thin blanket. “Oh for cryin’ out loud!” A gruff voice shouted from behind the door, followed by what sounded like pushing. Suddenly, the door flung open. Peter was so cold, all he wanted to do was roll over and fall back asleep. Five tall and broad men came storming into the room.
The man that Peter deemed the “Leader” (The man who had shouted previously.) had the gun. Two others were carrying a crowbar and the other two had duffle bags. One of them took a quick step towards him, grabbing his hair and shoving a white cloth to his face. Peter, in his panic, kicked the man in the stomach. Sending him stumbling backwards. The kick would have done more damage had Peter not felt like he was freezing to death on the spot. “Who the hell are you and what do you want!” Peter tried his best to sound more grown.
Apparently, that offended them because the man he had kicked which Peter labeled “Grumpy” grabbed Peter by his throat and slammed him to the floor, landing a heavy booted shoe against his back and pressing down. Peter, being the stubborn kid that he is, tried once more to stand up, only to be met with calloused hands grabbing him by the hair and slamming his head repeatedly into the floor. Blood seeped down his forehead protruding his vision.
He had hit Peter's head against the floor about thirteen times before he let go, Peter let out a sigh, assuming it was over. Trying to stand up once more, he was grabbed violently by the arm and flipped over onto his back. Here, he was able to catch a clearer view of the perpetrators. They all wore dark clothing and gloves, along with tall laced combat boots. The “Leader” had a scar over his left eyebrow. The skinniest guy carried one of the duffels that looked like it contained whatever was used on that cloth. He named him “Twiggy.” The other man carrying a duffel was named “Twiggy 2” directly after by Peter’s tired mind. The rest were all buff and lean, the rageful one that Peter had kicked earlier (Grumpy) had a crowbar along with the cloth in his hands. The last man also carried a crowbar and had a thick look to him that led to Peter calling him “Husky.” They all leaned over him, saying things that Peter couldn’t quite catch in his daze. Grumpy, once more tried to put the white cloth to Peter’s mouth. This time however, when Peter tried to fight back, rather than being met with cold hands, he was met with the vile swing of a crowbar. The man wasn’t holding back in the slightest. He slammed the metal bar into Peter over and over and over. Mainly hitting him in the face, head or stomach. Peter covered his face with his arms and hands and tucked his knees up to his chest to prevent worse damage, only for Grumpy to take that as an invitation to swing even harder.
After about fifteen minutes of relentless beating, Grumpy raised the crowbar high above his head and got ready to take one final swing. The Leader stepped in just in time, grabbing Grumpy’s hand swifty and gripping it tightly in a menacing hold. “What the hell are you doing? Trying to damage the merchandise?” He shouted, throwing his hand to the side. “Just get the kid and we're out of here”. Boss is going to love this.”
The men smirked and shared glances. Grumpy pressed the cloth to Peter’s mouth once more, making him go limp and become only half conscious. He leaned down to pick him up before the Leader once more swatted him away, throwing Peter over his own shoulder instead. As though he was some kind of prize. After that, Peter succumbed to the chemicals and passed out.