A New Routine
Gotham didn’t make anything easy. It was a city that demanded survival, not comfort, and Peter was quickly learning that existing here without a support system was a whole different battle.
It had been weeks since Elise’s attack, and he had settled into a routine—patrolling the city at night, crashing at the clock tower when exhaustion won, and scraping together whatever money he could to keep himself from completely falling apart. The problem was, he was running out of options.
He needed a job. A real one. Something stable, something that didn’t involve tips and waiting tables. Not that he had anything against it, but he’d already done that back in New York, and the thought of going through the same grind, the same fake smiles and long shifts, felt like a slow death.
So Peter started looking.
Finding a job in Gotham wasn’t easy. Most places weren’t exactly eager to hire some random guy with no real background, no solid references. He couldn’t exactly put "was technically a high school science teacher for a hot minute before my whole life collapsed" on a resume. He needed something that wouldn’t ask too many questions.
He tried construction first, figuring his enhanced strength and endurance would be useful, but after one shift of hauling steel beams and keeping his strength in check, he realized it wasn’t for him.
It wasn’t just the physical labor; it was the people. Hardened, silent workers who didn’t trust newcomers, who had spent years perfecting their own rhythms. He was an outsider, and he knew it.
The foreman didn’t even look up when he told him he wouldn’t be coming back.
He tried a courier job next. The work was easy enough—running small packages across the city—but the pay was garbage, and it didn’t take long to realize that some of those deliveries weren’t exactly legal. The last thing he needed was to get tangled up in Gotham’s underground in a way he couldn’t punch his way out of.
A week passed, then another. His funds were drying up. He started stretching out the food he bought, rationing meals, reminding himself that he’d been through worse. But the hunger, the exhaustion—it all added up. He needed something soon.
One afternoon, after another fruitless search, he found himself wandering into a small, run-down community center on the east side of the city. A faded sign outside read:
Wayne Foundation Community Center. A small flyer taped to the window caught his eye: “Help Wanted: Tutoring positions available. Science, Math, English. Inquire within.”
Peter hesitated. It wasn’t what he expected to find, but something about it stuck with him. Teaching wasn’t something he had planned to do again, but he had always been good at it. He took a breath and stepped inside.
The inside of the community center was exactly what he expected—worn-out furniture, the smell of old books and cheap cleaning supplies, and the distant chatter of kids in a back room. A middle-aged woman with short, dark hair sat behind a desk, glancing up as he entered.
“Can I help you?”
“Uh, yeah.” Peter scratched the back of his head. “I saw the flyer outside about tutoring.”
She gave him a look, sizing him up. “You have experience?”
“A little,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “Used to help out with an after-school program back in New York. Science and math, mostly.”
Her expression softened slightly. “What’s your name?”
He hesitated. He had been using ‘Ben’ for most casual introductions, but something about this place made him want to use his real name—at least part of it.
“Peter,” he said. “Peter Parker.”
She extended a hand. “Gloria Martinez. I run this place. You actually showed up, which is more than I can say for most applicants.”
Peter shook her hand, surprised at how firm her grip was. She motioned for him to follow her to a small office cluttered with books and paperwork.
“Alright, Peter Parker,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Tell me why you want to work here.”
Peter hesitated. He hadn’t really thought about how to sell himself beyond ‘I need money and I’m good at this.’ But something about the way Gloria was looking at him made him want to be honest.
“I guess… I just like helping people,” he admitted. “Especially kids who don’t have a lot of options. I know what that’s like.”
Gloria studied him for a moment before nodding. “Alright, fair enough.”
She slid a form across the desk. “You’ll be working with high school kids, mostly. Math and science tutors are in short supply, so you’ll have your hands full. Pay isn’t great, but it’s steady. You screw up, you’re out. Understood?”
Peter grinned. “Understood.”
His first tutoring session was a mess—but in the best possible way. The kids were sharp, a little jaded, but not lost. Some were there because they wanted to be, others because they had no choice, but they all had one thing in common: Gotham had made them tough.
His first student was a fifteen-year-old girl named Tasha, who took one look at him and said, “You don’t look like a teacher.”
Peter smirked. “Good thing I’m just a tutor then.”
She snorted. “Whatever. I suck at algebra. Can you fix that?”
He glanced at the notebook in front of her, full of numbers and frustrated scribbles. “I can try.”
By the end of the session, she was solving equations without glaring at the paper like it had personally insulted her. When she left, she muttered a barely audible, “Thanks.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
For the first time since arriving in Gotham, Peter had something stable. It wasn’t much—just a few shifts a week, helping kids who needed it—but it was enough to remind him of who he was outside the mask.
At night, he was still out there, fighting, training, surviving. But during the day, he was just Peter Parker, the guy who taught math to kids who needed a break.
It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was a life. And for now, that was enough.
The routine settled in quickly. Peter found himself looking forward to his tutoring shifts, enjoying the way the kids challenged him. Some were smart-mouthed, some quiet, some angry at the world—but he saw pieces of himself in them. He saw the kid who had lost Uncle Ben, the kid who had struggled with responsibility, with power, with the weight of life pressing down. He wasn’t just teaching them equations—he was giving them a moment of stability in a world that rarely offered it.
And, in return, they gave him something, too. A reason to stay grounded. A reminder that Peter Parker still mattered, even in Gotham.
He didn’t know how long it would last, didn’t know if Gotham would take this from him the way it had tried to take everything else. But for now, for the first time in what felt like forever, Peter had something real. That was enough.
---------------
Peter had been balancing two lives for a long time, but Gotham made it harder than ever.
It was just like his time in New York, after everyone forgot him. It wasn’t just about fighting crime like when he was fifteen, when he still had aunt May, Ned and ...her. After all that multiverse bullshit, it was about rent, groceries and waking up even though his whole body ached. But Gotham still managed to make it worse. Here? It was just him.
And every day, he felt like he was being pulled thinner and thinner, stretching himself past the breaking point.
But he couldn’t stop.
The next few days felt the same.
Peter showed up at the tutoring center every morning, somehow managing to look alive enough that Mrs. Alvarez didn’t kick him out. He wasn’t sure why she’d taken a chance on him, but he wasn’t going to give her a reason to regret it.
The kids were… tough. Most of them had lived harder lives than he ever had, and they made it clear that they didn’t trust easily.
Jenna still barely spoke. Malik liked to act like he didn’t care, even when he put real effort into his work. Aaron had stopped looking at the door every five seconds, but he still flinched when someone raised their voice.
They reminded Peter of himself, in different ways.
He knew what it was like to feel alone. To have no safety net. To feel like the world was just waiting for an excuse to throw you away.
So he stayed.
And slowly, they started to trust him.
Jenna asked him a question about a math problem. Malik grumbled less when Peter corrected him. Aaron actually cracked a joke at Peter’s expense.
They were little things. But little things mattered.
Outside of work, he tried—really tried—to have something resembling a normal life.
He started frequenting the bookstore more often, the one he’d stumbled into weeks ago. The old man behind the counter still barely acknowledged him, but Peter didn’t mind.
He just liked the quiet.
Sometimes, he would buy a book just for the hell of it, even if he knew he wouldn’t read it. It felt nice, owning something that wasn’t tied to survival.
And then there was the diner.
After Elise’s attack, Peter had avoided going back at first. He didn’t want to make things weird, didn’t want her to feel like he was watching over her. But eventually, he gave in.
She was back at work, stubborn as ever. The bruises had faded, but the way she held herself was different now—stiffer, like she was constantly bracing for something.
She never talked about what had happened, and Peter didn’t push.
But one night, when she slid a cup of coffee in front of him, she muttered, “You’re still a lousy tipper.”
Peter smiled. “Some things never change.”
For a while, things felt stable.
Not good, exactly. Gotham never let anything be good.
But manageable.
And then, as always, the city reminded him that peace was temporary.
It started when Malik didn’t show up for tutoring.
At first, Peter figured he was just skipping. The kid had a habit of flaking when he got frustrated.
But then he missed the next day.
And the next.
Peter asked around, but no one seemed to know anything. Even Jenna looked worried.
Then, after work, Peter caught a glimpse of someone waiting outside.
A man, leaning against a streetlight, watching the tutoring center.
Peter had spent enough time in Gotham to recognize the look.
Not a random passerby. Not a concerned parent.
A guy on a job.
Peter made his way over, hands in his pockets, casual.
“Hey,” he said. “You lost?”
The man barely glanced at him. “Nope.”
Peter studied him. The guy wasn’t a thug—not just muscle. He had the look of someone who didn’t need to flex his strength to be dangerous.
“Waiting for someone?” Peter pressed.
The guy exhaled slowly, like he was debating something.
Then he looked Peter in the eye and said, “You should mind your business.”
Peter’s stomach turned cold.
He didn’t say anything. Just nodded and walked away.
But inside, he knew.
Something was happening.
And he wasn’t going to ignore it.
That night, Peter went looking.
He started in the usual places—Malik’s school, his neighborhood, anywhere he might’ve been hanging out. But it didn’t take long to realize that this wasn’t just a case of a kid skipping out.
Malik was gone.
And someone was making sure people didn’t ask questions.
Peter’s fists clenched.
He had tried to stay out of Gotham’s deeper problems. He had told himself that this wasn’t his fight, that he couldn’t afford to draw too much attention.
But he couldn’t walk away from this.
Not when a kid’s life was on the line.
He just had to figure out what the hell he was dealing with.
And who was really pulling the strings.
The next day, Mrs. Alvarez pulled him aside before work.
“There was a man outside,” she said.
Peter kept his face blank. “Oh?”
She crossed her arms. “Looked like he was waiting for someone.” A pause. “You know anything about that?”
Peter met her gaze. He could lie. Say he hadn’t noticed. Say it wasn’t a big deal.
But she wasn’t stupid.
And neither was he.
“I think something’s going on with Malik,” Peter admitted.
Mrs. Alvarez exhaled sharply. “Dammit.”
“Do you know anything?”
She hesitated. Then, quietly, she said, “His brother was in deep with some people. Owed money. I think… I think he might’ve tried to run.”
Peter’s jaw tightened.
“And Malik?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. But if they took him to get leverage on his brother—”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
She didn’t need to.
Peter already knew.
That night, he went out as Spider-Man.
He told himself he wasn’t looking for a fight.
He was just looking for information.
But in Gotham, those things were often the same.
And if someone had taken Malik—
Peter wasn’t going to let them keep him.