Prologue
Peter frowned, his gaze flickering around, taking note of the dark, imposing buildings, gargoyles perched as if silent sentinels watching over the gloomy city, with its smog filled sky, the people of Gotham City hurried along the streets, postures hunched and unfriendly. Peter let go of his frown and backed away from the edge of the battle damaged building he'd been surveying from. "Right. Of all the potential universes out there, of course I end up in a cesspool in New Jersey," he murmured, eyes squinting at the depressing, dark surroundings. "Really, the city has Goth in its name, that's basically a bright red flag."
Peter groaned and flopped down onto his back, "Okay Pete, petey, what do we know so far? I went on a field trip, said field trip was interrupted by an alien invasion, my dumbass went to fight the alien invasion, I got lost in space with Mr Stark and Doctor Strange the wizard, which I need to process later because that's so cool! A doctor wizard. Let's see, a group of aliens and a maybe human threatened us, we crash landed, fought a purple giant man, lost spectacularly, and then died. Yep, just as I thought, it makes no sense at all!" He groaned and rose into a sitting position, his chin resting on the palm of his right hand. "Why Gotham City? Better yet, why am I not dead? I know I died, I mean, I was ripped apart molecule by molecule, I think that counts as death, so why and how am I here?" The frustration leaked into his mutters, a fierce scowl forming on his face.
Thunder roared above him as the sky lit up with lightning, so Peter jumped up and trudged to the edge of the building, and in a swift movement hopped down onto the fire escape, the metal creaking in a worrying sign of fragility, the stairs down already having fallen down, which in normal circumstances, would be a problem, for peter however, it worked in his favour. With a quick upward flick, the window was opened, and he vaulted through, shaking his head to try and dry of a little. With careful and silent steps, Peter made it to his mattress and blankets and the few other possessions he'd managed to get a hold of in the last two weeks since he'd arrived. With one last sigh, he fell onto his mattress and pulled the assortment of fluffy, bright blankets over himself. "Okay, spidey, after today, there will be no more whining, it's time to figure crap out, my teenage superhero angst will have to be rescheduled to a later date, preferably when I exist and have some semblance of a life," a yawn took hold, and as he settled into a comfortable position, Peter let the much needed rest take him.
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Where New York was always bustling with people, crowds pushing forward with people always in a rush, Gotham was a different kind of rush, the people here were shifty and skittish, a synchronised behaviour Pete had noticed the few times he traveled on the ground. Moms and dads held tightly to their children, the parents eyes always searching for anything that would be a threat, and it was that kind of awareness that seemed the norm for Gothamites. It's not surprising really, Peter mused to himself, living in the crime capital of the world is sure to ingraine certain behaviours into people. He'd only been here for two weeks, and already there had been one large scale attack from one of the local wackos, and that's not even to mention the average crime. A day didn't go by without crime.
Pete sighed, moving along with the crowd, and trying to look as harmless as possible, He'd already been subject to what felt like hundreds of stares, and sure, his tattered blue jeans were splattered with blood, and He'd really tried to get the stains out! But the damn blood wouldn't come off, and there was also the fact that the right side of his face was dotted with violent purple bruises, but again, that was because he'd tried-stupidly mind you- to talk down a mugger last night. All in all, with his hair scruffy and curled, and his eyes bloodshot and piercing, he wasn't looking the friendliest at the moment. Seriously though, I'm fourteen! And, rest in peace pride, I look even more twig like in these clothes than normal, how the heck am I more of a threat than anyone else here, his internal rant came to an end as he finally reached the store he was looking for.
Quickly escaping the moving crowd, Pete pushed through the door quickly, and thanked every god there was at the near empty shop. A delighted grin crept onto his face as he half skipped to the section he was looking for, the last of the materials he needed so he could begin operation Spider-Man; Ressurection! What to get, what to get, what to get! It took every ounce of self control he had, but Peter managed to keep his delight to only escaping in a jolly whistle as he browsed the different coloured materials, right, new universe, do I go for a new colur? Hmmm, oh oh oh! I could do red and black, I already have the red materials, hmmm, black isn't really my colour though. Pete picked up the black spandex, images and designs flashing through his mind, no, I don't think so, Gotham is gloomy enough, let's give it some colour. He kept walking through the section, looking at the various colours, the bright yellows and greens, striking purples, until he came to the end, and reached out to pick up the blue, a bright, vibrant blue that almost shimmered under the flicker of the store light, "oh yeah, now this is me!"
It was with a jaunty hum that he approached the wary cashier, spandex bundled in his arms, and blue eyes alight with mischief and joy. "Here, could I have all of this, please." Peter used his most comforting smile as he put the spandex on the counter before the worker, one had reaching into his pocked and getting his hard earned money out before setting on top of his materials The worker, a young woman, Peter thinks, early twenties maybe, relaxes a small bit counting out the money and putting it away, before putting his spandex into a bag, and handing it back to him. "Thank you!" She didn't say anything back, apart from a small noise of acknowledgement, and with his own sigh, Peter trudged out of the store and back into the school of sharks that was the gotham general public.
Okay, Peter thought glumly, being friendly does nothing here. Making a quick decision, Pete veered out of the sidewalk and into an alley way, quickly walking to the dead end. He looked back to the alley entrance, making sure no one was looking in, and once he was sure, with a quick and silent motion Pete leaped and grapped hold of the fire escape, quickly pulling himself up, and moving swiftly up all the levels, he really didn't want anyone to peek out of their window and catch him where he definitely wasn't meant to be. With another quick movement, he vaulted from the fire escape onto the roof, letting out a tense breath as he did so. "Okay, after that pitiful amount of socialising, I need my blankets and my sewing machine, and I should definitely stay in for the rest of today until my face is healed. Damn bitch muggers."
Peter flipped the bag from his right hand to his left, and without hesitation he broke into a sprint across the roof, and with a great (human capable) jump he soared to the next roof, again and again, he vaulted across the rooftops, keeping the flips to the minimum, as much as he could control himself, until he came to the last building for his new home, and with a last great jump he launched himself down from the roof to his window and slid in hastily.
"Home sweet home," Pete yawned, stretching his arms above his head, and smacking himself in the face with his bag. "Ow, Holy-Wan Kenobi that hurt!" Grouchier than before, he marched over to his belongings, specifically eyeing up the rustic sewing machine and large scissors, as well as the folded materials laid out next to it. "Okay, here we go, Operation Spider-Man; Ressurection is a go!" And with as much focus as he could, Peter got to work, plugging in the sewing machine, and writing out the measurements he'd made sure to memorise, as well as bringing out the large art book, containing the designs he'd been thinking about.
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Gotham was quiet tonight. In any other city maybe it'd be a good sign, but in Gotham, the quiet nights were often the prelude to the most horrific of acts. Whether it be Scarecrow gassing a school, Harvey kidnapping and holding his 'court' sessions, or the Joker, the most unpredictable of them all. A quiet night in Gotham meant a tragedy to come, and as he sat hunched on a rooftop, beside a large gargoyle, Bruce could feel the tension rising in him, could hear it in the voices of his children through the comms, they all knew, something was coming, and it was coming soon.
"B, you have a robbery in progress, five armed men are currently ransacking the Gotham General Pharmacy, you're the closest." Oracle's voice cut through the silence of the night, and without hesitation Bruce was moving. With a quick push forward he was falling from the clock tower, his hands grabbing each side of his cape and snapping it open, his fall turning into practised gliding. Fast, and indistinguishable from the night sky, The Batman soared into action, speeding past rooftops and streets, until his target came into sight.
"Oracle," the growl of his voice was quiet but no less strong, "Alert Gordon of the situation." With nothing more said, Batman landed deceptively quietly, and approached the ajar door of the pharmacy. Already he could hear voices, the criminals uncaring about trying to stay quiet, unaware that they were already caught. There were five of them, all the men armed with pistols, but nothing else. Young too, all looking to be in their early twenties, but Bruce couldn't afford to go easy on them, young they may be, but they are still old enough to know better, and it's with that line of thought that leads to him grabbing one of the men, one who was facing away from the entrance, and slamming his head down onto the cold, hard floor, instantly knocking him out, likely concussing him too. The four remaing men spun as fast as they could, but they weren't fast enough, Batman grabbed the arm of another of the men, snapping it with frightening ease, and ending it with a swift punch to the face, dropping the man. Glass shattered as the remaining three opened fire, hitting nearly everything but not their target. Bruce was in their midst before they could try anything else, one of the men fell with a kick to the knee, the large cracking noise saying what had happened, and the remaining two were grabbed by the throat and slammed onto the hard floor, with one last punch to the man with the broken leg, to knock him out.
Batman left the pharmacy, and with a quick movement, pulled out his grapple gun, and ascended to the roof, just as the sound of sirens reached him, a patrol car speeding down the road. With a grunt, Batman aimed his grapple and flew from the scene of the crime, his cape swishing the only sound giving away his presence. Bruce settled on the roof, eyes scanning the horizon, listening out for any trouble. He brought a hand to his ear and pressed on the part of the cowl that covered his comm, and the rush of voices flooded through, as his children joked and went about their own patrol routes.
"-And that is why Cosmic Crunch doesn't rank as number one cereal of all time, lil' D."Nightwing, chipper and with easy joy was rattling on, currently partnered up with Robin. "You're a fool, Grayson, Cosmic Crunch is far superior to your diabetic hoopios-"Bruce let the brewing argument (and potential future stabbing) wash over him, listening too on Red Robin and Spoiler as they joked and laughed.
Although trouble was on the horizon, he let them joke and play, just for the moment, before such joyous behaviour disappeared in the face of new tragedy.
Gunshots sounded out, screams starting up, and the Dark Knight was back in the sky before a word could be said, mind focused and sharp.
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It was eerie Peter decided. The quiet of the night didn't feel like a good sign in Gotham, his Spider-Sense was tense, not as if he was in immediate danger, but there was danger lurking around, waiting. Peter was very much not a fan of it. He didn't like just sitting there, he should be out fighting and protecting, but his suit wasn't done, and from everything he's managed to gather, the bats and birds of Gotham are good at what they do, Peter can at least trust in that, the local heroes are good.
Reaching into his oversized hoodie, he pulled out the sketchbook that had become one of his most prized possessions, and flipped open to an empty page. When he'd woken up here, those first couple of days, he'd spent buried in the library, reading everything he could, trying to understand the what and why of his new situation. Batman, well, there was a lot of information about him, the problem being it came mostly from conspiracy theorists, and no conspiracy theorists said the same thing as another. The facts about Batman, the known truths were miniscule, the most anyone knew about him is what he looked like, and that was because of his daytime escapades when preventing alien invasions and such with the Justice league. With a shake of his head, Peter got started, sketching out the detailed body armour and cape and cowl, his own designs of a batsuit, similar enough to the one Batman wears, but also distinct enough to be new.
"Just a couple more nights, and then Spider-Man can take flight," Pete muttered, looking forward into the large, looming city, dark and miserable, filled with villains and monsters, "Just you wait." A sharp, violent grin crept up on his youthful face, blue eyes dancing with the desire to be back put there, swinging and tricking through Gotham's sky.
"Pete, i-i need you to understand, when you have power, great power, you have a responsibility, to yourself, to stand up for what is good and what is right, to defend those who can't defend themselves, to fight for the people who need it. With such great power, there comes even greater responsibility. Do you understand Peter?"
"I understand Ben," Pete murmured, the memory always fresh and always present, the very beginning of Spider-Man.
Gunfire started up, fierce and sudden, blocks away from where Peter sat, and also, hidden to near everyone but Peter, who's senses stretched far and wide, the swish of a cape told him that the situation would be handled in moments.
Peter stood up, and got back to work in his deserted new home, rebuilding what he needed, for when Spider-Man will come back. "Soon." Peter promised, resolved and sure, a promise not only to himself, but to Ben, and to May and Mr Stark.
Peter May have died, Peter may have suffered, he may have lost everything, his last remaining family, Mr Stark, Ned, MJ, but there were people here, in Gotham City, and they were scared, and they were suffering, and that's all Peter needed to know. Spider-Man will stay here, he will fight for Gotham and its people, and it may be a pointless endeavour, but Peter would rather try and fail, then sit back and do nothing.