lights and discovery
Peter felt like he was swimming through the sky
There was no sound it was quiet and dark
The silence stretched on, thick and consuming
He felt eerily at peace, slowly relaxing
His body drifted, weightless yet untethered.
The cold darkness wrapped around him, soft as a whisper, endless as the night sky.
His fingers twitched, reaching out, but there was nothing to grasp.
No wind, no gravity, just an infinite abyss stretching in every direction. He was just fighting and now might be dying?
He turned his head searching for any possible escape but found none
Well...maybe…this isn't so bad
Peter thought slowly closed his eyes as he resigned to fate.
His body sank drowsily, limbs went slack, the tension in his muscles unraveling like frayed thread. The weight of everything—of his past, his mistakes, his failures—peeled away, lost in the void.
His eyelids grew heavy.
He let out a slow breath and started to close his eyes.
A sharp sound of glass breaking echoed through the darkness.
The peace shattered, and the weightless void turned suffocating
Suddenly a burst of lights flashed around him, purple green blue leaving him blind.
His senses flared the sharp sound ringing in his ear
Peter's head snapped to the side, his eyes catching a black blob floating towards him.
He panicked as it rippled to black tentacles shooting outward and attaching itself to him
Peter felt like he was suffocating as the glob spread around his body
What the fuck
Is all he could think of over the ringing in his mind
He struggled clawing at the black goo that was spreading reaching his neck. His vision became hazy as he continued struggling.
Then it was gone
And his vision went black
When peter woke up again his head throbbed
The sky was back
Oh wow look at that cloud, Oooo a bird…..wait
“Peter you are falling”
Yeah no shit
Peter plummeted down the sky
Air swishing past him
“Karen!”
Peter shouted as he could see buildings
Ooh shit shit shit shit shit
“KAREN PARACHUTE OR SOMETHING!”
“Peter your parachute has not been fixed yet”
“AHHH-”
A very rational and well thought out response if he may say
At that time peter questioned everything
How old am I really?....holy shit I'm 22 this year wow.
Hmmm do I actually like red? I wear a lot of red. That’s kinda weird.
Why am I thinking about this when I’m about to—
He crashed onto the rails of a fire escape sending him flying against a wall and onto the ground
“Ohh shitt”
His back hurt
Probably broke some bones
but most of all
How the fuck am I alive?
He just fell what? Meters or something yet his body barley had a scratch.
“Peter there is something in your system”
“Huh, really?”
Godd my back aches
Peter pushed himself up his mind racing
Something in my system?
His stomach growled and his body was burning yet there was no sun that could cause him to be hot.
“Karen uh where are w-”
As Peter was dueling all this a scream was heard from a alley.
His senses heightened
Get up
He blinked confused but did as he was told
The alley was dark.
Not just dimly lit, but wrong—shadows stretching too long, pooling in places they shouldn’t. The noise died before it reached the ground, swallowed by the weight of Gotham itself.
Peter's body moved before his mind caught up, cutting through the damp night air in a blur. His landing was off, knees buckling slightly, muscles still shaking from the fall. He didn’t have time to fix it.
Ahead, a man had a woman cornered against the wall. He had broad, thick arms covered in crude tattoos, his stance showed lazy confidence. A knife twirled between his fingers, glinting under the flickering streetlight. The woman clutched her bag to her chest, trembling, her wide eyes darting to Peter.
She didn’t scream for help. Just stared pleadingly
Okay weird I'd be crying
“Hey!”
Peter shouted cutting through the silence
The mugger barely had time to turn before Peter was on him.
He spinned the man, and landed a hard punch in the face.
He grabbed the guy’s wrist mid-spin and snapped it back, the knife cluttered to the pavement. The man let out a choked yell, but Peter didn’t stop—he pivoted, twisted, and drove his knee into the guy’s ribs with brutal precision.
A crack. A wheeze.
yet
Peter didn’t let go.
stop
The man stumbled, choking on his own breath, and Peter shoved him forward, slamming him into the brick wall so hard that the impact rattled through his own bones. The guy crumpled to the ground with a strangled cough, spitting blood onto the pavement.
Peter’s breath was heavy.
He knew he had super strength because of the spider bite but he was holding back.
He stared down at his hands, fingers still curled like claws, his chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate movements.
His hands shook, his stomach twisting as the moment settled into his bones. What was he–
The woman bolted, her footsteps fading into the night before he could even say anything.
He didn’t blame her.
Peter took a step back, shaking out his hands, trying to shake out the feeling under his skin.
Karen’s voice crackled in his ear. "Peter, I’m detecting irregularities in your nervous system."
"Yeah. No shit," he muttered, voice tight.
His hands were still twitching, that raw, electric pulse crawling up his spine. His senses were off.
Peter sucked in a breath, forcing the tension out of his limbs. He needed to focus. One thing at a time.
Step one: Figure out where the hell he was.
Peter had spent years patrolling New York—he knew every shortcut, every blind spot, every alleyway that smelled a little too much like piss. But this place?
It felt like it wanted him dead.
The streets weren’t alive the way New York was. Everyone was quiet. The lights flickered struggling to stay on, the pavement was cracked like it had given up trying to hold this city together.
And the people?
They didn’t look at him.
Not in the way New Yorkers glanced at heroes swinging overhead, that brief spark of recognition or annoyance. No, these people kept their heads down, avoided his gaze, moved with the quiet, practiced efficiency of people who knew better than to draw attention to themselves.
Peter adjusted his stolen hoodie—the fabric was too big, but at least it covered the wreckage of his suit, hiding the gold glint of the broken Iron Spider insignia beneath it.
Blending in was priority number one.
"Karen," he muttered, keeping his head down as he walked, hands shoved into his pockets. "Give me a map."
Karen hesitated. "Peter it seems we are in New Jersey but not the one we know..I don't have a map."
His stomach sank.
"Excuse me?"
"This city isn’t in any database," she said carefully. "No street names, no coordinates. I can’t locate you."
Peter stopped walking.
Everything in his body went still.
Karen always knew where he was. She could tap into satellites, city grids, Stark networks, anything.
But now?
Nothing.
His fingers curled tighter in his pockets. His jaw clenched.
This wasn’t just another city.
He obviously wasn’t meant to be here
Great just wanted one day to be calm and now this.
The sound of breathing and slight static from a nearby rooftop caught Peter’s attention.
Peter’s spine went rigid. His head snapped up.
Something—someone—was watching him.
A figure crouched in the shadows, perched just above him on top of a building, unmoving. The glow of a red cape caught the dim streetlights, green blue eyes reflecting back at him like an animal’s eyes in the dark.
Peter’s instincts flared.
Not good
The figure didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just... stared.
Sizing him up.
Peter exhaled slowly, his breath curling in the cold air.
He stepped back slowly pulling out his hands
With that he ran.