A Stranger in Gotham
Peter sat on the edge of a cold rooftop, staring out at the endless cityscape of Gotham. It was different from New York, in more ways than he could count. Darker. More broken. Even the air felt heavier, carrying with it a weight of crime and corruption he couldn’t ignore.
Batman hadn’t left him alone since their scuffle in the alley. Peter could feel the Caped Crusader watching him from the shadows, analyzing, waiting for the first sign that he was a threat. It made him uneasy, but after everything he had been through, he couldn’t blame him.
“Nice city you got here,” Peter muttered, rubbing his sore shoulder. “Real warm and welcoming.”
No response. Typical.
He exhaled and let his head fall into his hands. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, and honestly? I wouldn’t trust me either. I fell out of the sky, I’m wearing a weird suit, and I could be some kind of freaky supervillain.” He lifted his head, forcing a tired smile. “But I’m not. I swear.”
Batman stepped forward, his imposing figure backlit by the Gotham skyline. “If you want my trust, start talking. Everything.”
Peter hesitated. He had fought gods, aliens, and madmen, but explaining the impossible? That was the hardest part.
“I don’t belong here,” he admitted. “I was fighting back home—well, my home—and something went wrong. The villain I was fighting had this power to create portals, it normally wasn’t so strong, but when I got sucked in I knew something was wrong. Next thing I know, I wake up here.” He gestured around them. “This world isn’t mine.”
Batman studied him in silence. “No record of you exists here,” he finally said. “No Spider-Man. No Peter Parker.”
Peter swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Yeah. That’s kind of my thing now.”
Batman didn’t react, but Peter felt his scrutiny intensify. Then, the Dark Knight reached into his belt, pulling out a small device. With a flick, a holographic interface projected into the air, scanning Peter’s bio-signature. The analysis ran in eerie silence, until a result flashed across the screen.
“Anomalous energy signature,” Batman murmured. “Consistent with multiversal displacement.”
Peter blinked. “Wait. You actually believe me?”
Batman turned the screen off. “I’ve seen stranger things.”
Peter huffed out a tired laugh. “Great. So what now? You lock me in the Batcave? Run experiments? Ask me to take a citizenship test to prove I’m a good guy?”
Batman’s expression remained unreadable. “You don’t have a place here. No records, no history, no home.”
Peter felt the words like a punch to the gut. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Thanks for the reminder.”
A long pause stretched between them before Batman finally spoke again. “I can offer you protection. A place to stay.”
Peter’s head snapped up. “At the Batcave?”
Batman’s eyes narrowed. “At the manor. But you don’t seem like the type to accept charity.”
Peter hesitated. He had spent weeks drifting in his own world, utterly alone, a ghost in the lives of people he loved. Now, here in a place that shouldn’t know his name, someone was offering him a place to stay. But it didn’t feel right. He couldn’t just sit in a mansion while Gotham rotted outside. He didn’t belong in a billionaire’s house. He didn’t belong anywhere.
“…Thanks,” he said quietly. “But I’ll be fine.”
Batman didn’t look surprised. If anything, there was a flicker of understanding in his gaze. “Then where will you go?”
Peter let out a breath and turned back toward the city. “I’ll figure it out.”
---------------
Peter spent the next few nights adapting to Gotham in the only way he knew how—by patrolling. He didn’t know the rules of this city yet, didn’t know its players, its villains, or the way it breathed.
But crime was crime. And as long as he had his suit, his web-shooters, and a sense of responsibility, he could still do what he had always done.
The first night, he broke up a mugging in the Narrows. The second, he stopped an armed robbery near the Bowery. By the third, he realized Gotham’s criminals were unlike New York’s—desperate, cruel, and unafraid of death. And when he encountered a group of thugs wearing clown masks, laughing as they set a car on fire, he understood just how deep Gotham’s sickness ran.
This wasn’t his city.
But for now, it was all he had.
Peter set up a temporary base in an abandoned clock tower, a place high above the city where he could think. He had no money, no ID, nothing tying him to this world. But he had his instincts. And for now, that would have to be enough.
One night, as he perched on a rooftop eating a cold slice of pizza he had swiped from a closing shop, a familiar voice spoke from the shadows. The last few days the only things he ate were the things he stole or the things he could afford with the few bucks from his backpack. Sometimes, when he was really desperate, he took some of the money from the muggers he defeated (only from the ones that didn’t look like they needed it! He wasn’t that bad).
“You’re not being subtle.”
Peter nearly choked. He turned to see Batman standing behind him, arms crossed.
“Jeez, dude,” Peter muttered, wiping his mouth. “Ever heard of personal space?”
Batman didn’t react. “You’ve been drawing attention.”
Peter frowned. “I’m stopping crimes. You got a problem with that?”
Batman’s silence was answer enough.
Peter sighed. “Look, I know I’m not part of your whole ‘Gotham thing,’ but I can’t just sit back and watch people get hurt.”
Batman studied him for a long moment. Then, without a word, he tossed something at Peter’s feet. A burner phone.
“If you get in over your head,” Batman said, “call.”
Peter stared at the phone, then up at the Dark Knight. He wanted to say something sarcastic, something light, but the weight of the moment kept him silent.
“…Thanks,” he said instead. He knew he most likely wasn’t gonna use it. His pride wont let him. But it was nice to think at least someone in this world maybe cared for him.
Batman nodded once before vanishing into the night, leaving Peter alone again.
Peter picked up the phone and turned it over in his hands. The city below him stretched out, endless and full of darkness.
He wasn’t alone.
But he was still lost.