So THATS How It Happened.
Something was horribly wrong.
It was the miracle of the internet. You know, for thousands of years people relied on word of mouth, or books, writings, maybe recordings of some sort but they didn’t spread very far. People were confined to those they knew for their knowledge. Those they could talk with and share ideas with. For thousands of years it was uncommon for anyone to have any real connection with people more than a zip code over (though the zip code itself hadn’t existed for most of those years). Then the internet came along. And with it came, for perhaps the first time ever, real time communication with the entire world. Digital monuments were built. Where civilization once thrived by the riverside, new communities were popping up on the data stream. People from all over the world alike could share their interests, find common ground. Temples were erected in the form of websites. Commerce exploded as banks stopped storing money in vaults and started storing it behind passwords. And of course, there was what some may consider the modern day library of Alexandria: Wikipedia.
So when the culmination of all human knowledge, brought together by people the world over, researched and fact checked and analyzed by the mountains of people with more interest in keeping it accurate than in playing jokes with it. When that near inscrutable source tells you that the common knowledge you’ve had for years, that you’ve seen proven in your day to day life, is wrong? Well, there’s only two reactions one can have.
One may find that the lyrics to that song they hear everyday were different then they thought they were. They would feel shocked, perhaps a little disappointed, but ultimately move on. Or one might discover that there is no record of the many, many heroes that saved the world multiple times over.
Peter was currently one of the latter. And Peter felt more than anything, an aching, throbbing pain in his head. Confusion, worry, anger, it all spun around the inside of his skull like a whirl pool. Perhaps though, we should go back a step, look at what got him here in the first place.
—————
Peter turned the corner into the computer lab, skidding to a stop as he looked over the devices lined up neatly in a row along the table. The monitors looked old. Sure they weren’t box-monitors or anything, but compared to the screens he was used to? Or, heaven forbid, compared to the screens someone like Tony had? I mean those were practically holograms at this point, a thin layer of glass, completely see through from both sides until something’s displayed on it in a blue light contained in the glass. It was easy to underestimate just how far Stark Tech had pushed the technology of the world. And if this library really was funded by some similar playboy rich kid, well, all I’m saying is you’d expect a bit better (Hell, Tony had honest to god holograms, but those were private use only, existing only in his workshops or Avengers compounds).
The computers themselves seemed slightly newer. Still outdated, but not ancient by any means. And with that thought out of the way, he should really get to it now shouldn’t he? Logging onto one of the computers he set the little business card to the side, immediately going to his bank account to see what little funds he could pool together for this unplanned excursion. That's where it all started to go wrong. See, Peter had very little money to his name, yes. But little money is still money, and here he found that his bank account seemingly was missing. Well, that was twelve dollars he was never getting back. Still, maybe he just missed some overdraft fee at some point, or the bank shut down or…. To be honest he hadn’t been paying attention to his bank recently. He had access to Stark money, so it just didn’t seem very important. Granted he didn’t actually have access to the money itself, but Tony bought him anything he needed, Spider-related or otherwise. And that gave him an idea. Firstly, he’d have to open a new account. Or rather, he’d have to make it seem he always had an account, nothing that hard for his computer skills. Some quick hacking would do the trick, but that was the easy part.
The harder part was hacking into Stark Industries. Ned had once shown him a small vulnerability in their security, and while he could have told Tony and had it patched up-
The Right Thing to Do.
Shut up spider sense.
While he could have, he hadn’t. It wasn’t that big a flaw for anyone who didn’t already know the system inside and out, and besides, it came in useful when, purely as a hypothetical, you had to remove some of the baby-monitor protocols or else Friday would be tracking your location via satellite when you really didn’t want Tony to know where you were headed. Hypothetically. And now he was gonna be really glad he left that open when he siphons some funds from Tony. Maybe he’d patch up the hole as thanks.
But he would never get the chance to do so. Because try as he might he couldn’t find Stark Industries.
That should be impossible. It should be absolutely impossible. And from there he spiraled. Iron Man? Doesn’t exist. Captain America? Doesn’t exist. The Hulk, Hawkeye, Vision, Black Panther. None of them seemed to exist anymore. Or more accurately, they never existed. It was almost funny, every time he looked up a hero that he knew existed, he’d get one that sounded almost the same instead. Dr.Strange? No, it’s Dr. Fate. Black Widow? No, it’s Black Canary. Even outside of superheroes, there was no Oscorp, there was LexCorp. Despite the almost parody-like nature of it all, to say it wasn’t funny would be a massive understatement.
Just where the hell had he ended up?
Remember
His spider sense begged him, pleaded with him, attacked him.
His head was pounding, he couldn’t see the computer anymore, he couldn’t see the table or the room. The walls, the ceiling.
Suddenly he was looking out at the ocean. The pain in his head was dying down. It was night, he was perched high up on a monument. The moon reflected over the waters of the bay. He had the sense that a battle was going on, all around him. Then he was swinging. He took a second to glance at what he was swinging on, and found it to be the Statue of Liberty. Then his head raged in pain once more.
It was all turning black, then blue and purple and gold and red and colors he didn’t have names for. The wind was whipping through his hair, his head felt like it would explode. Colors streaked past him as he was in free fall. Glass was cutting into him, slicing him as he fell. Tearing into him, his very being. Ripping into his very essence as a person.
His head throbbed once more and he was falling again, facing the sky. The dark, cloudy sky as his tattered suit fluttered in the wind he could not hear over. He turned over, looking at where he would land. Tall buildings all around, and his crash landing site the tallest. Looked like he wasn’t swinging his way out of this one then. It was the most he could do to brace his arms in front of his face mere moments before impact as he-
He let out a muffled shout, his head no longer throbbing as a cold sweat practically glued him to his seat. The computer simply continued its quiet hum, fan inside spinning as the monitor displayed the last page he had pulled up. He didn’t remember how he had gotten to it, an article on the “Batman”.
He knew where he was. He knew how he got here. And he finally knew just how royally fucked he truly was.
Strange hadn’t had the time to fix it. His spell had begun to tear down fundamental boundaries of the universe. And Peter wouldn’t let him fix it until he helped the villains that had been pulled through.
It was his fault the universe was dying. It was his fault May was dead.
May was dead. How could he have forgotten that?
The spell had been his idea in the first place, all because of Spider-Man. All because Beck had wanted to get to Tony, and Peter was just naive enough to let him. And then the world knew who Spider-Man was. And he couldn’t accept that.
He didn’t deserve to be Spider-Man, not if he couldn’t take the pressure.
And then the spell backfired, because he was selfish. And then he didn’t let Strange fix it, and by the time he was willing to make that sacrifice it was too late. The universe was coming down around them, and if Strange wasn’t going to help fix it it would take care of the problem itself.
It had torn him away. Ejected him. Removed him like a tumor and deposited him here. Had it been anyone with even a fraction less healing capacity they would have been torn apart long before making it across to the next universe (Though, how long had it taken him? Falling from one universe into the next. Hours? Days? Years? Those words meant nothing in that place without time, the vast expanse of nothingness he had been violently flung through). No wonder he couldn’t stand to look at his own suit anymore, it was the thing that destroyed his life. It was the thing that killed his Aunt.
He killed his aunt, not the suit. After all, he was Spider-Man.
He would never forgive himself for that. How could he?
Snap out of it.
First his spider sense wanted him to remember, now it wanted him to forget? How was that fair? How was any of this fair?
Life’s not fair kid, so you don’t have to play fair either.
When it beats you down, use anything you can to get ahead.
Was that… Tony? Great, now he’s hearing voices in his head. Well, more than his own and his spider-sense at least. But even if it was a figment of his imagination, Tony was right. He could freak out about it later, but now he had a goal. A direction to work towards, and the motivation to do it. Was this what Tony had felt like in the cave when he made the first iron man suit? There was fear, a wave so strong it threatened to drown everything else out. But cresting over the top of it was a strange sense of calm. He would beat this. He would get home. And step one of that was….
Well, what is step one to developing inter-dimensional (inter-universal?) travel in a universe technologically behind your own? Especially when even your own hasn’t cracked that chestnut yet?
Alright, so maybe he didn’t have a step one yet, but step zero point zero zero zero one was making sure he didn’t starve. Or dehydrate. Or develop some strange disease from his moldy curtain bed back at the apartment. In short, it was to get money. And if he couldn’t get it from Tony then….
Well surely that Bruce Wayne guy wouldn’t notice a few hundred dollars missing from his stacks and stacks of cash? He had already been planning on hacking into a billionaire’s systems and leeching a bit of cash, why should it matter if it’s Tony or somebody else?
Ok so maybe that was dangerous thinking, but he needed a win right now, and 300 dollars from a man who will almost certainly never notice it qualified.
Honestly that wasn’t even that much money, but it would be enough for him to get his bearings, maybe even find a way to get an honest income. And with that done, he needed to get out of here, preferably without being noticed. He sat still as the hum from the computer fan died down, listening for any small sounds from down the hall. The silence was almost eerie when he finally decided to leave, the woman no longer at the front desk.
—————
Bat Chat:
Babs:
We’ve got something interesting here. Kid just walked into the library and had some sort of dissociation, possible panic attack.
Jaylad:
And? Sucks for them but what’s it got to do with us? Just make sure they get the help they need and send them on their way.
Jaylad:
Goddamnit who changed my screen name.
‘Jaylad has changed their name to “Hood”’
‘Dickie has changed “Hood”s name to “Jaylad”’
Jaylad:
Damn you Dick.
Dickie:
Love you too Jay.
Timbers:
God you two are insufferable. Babs, back to the point please?
Babs:
Jay’s right, if rude as always. Normally this wouldn’t be our problem past making sure he’s alright. Thing is, he had no idea who Bruce Wayne is.
Jaylad:
Oh no, poor Bruce. I’m sure he’ll be devastated to hear he’s not a household name anymore.
Babs:
Hold on Jay, you’ll like this next bit.
Babs:
Ten minutes later I get an alert from the computer he’s using when it detects him hacking into a bank network. He makes an account in their system like it was always there.
Babs:
Then, get this, he hacks into Bruce Wayne’s personal account on behalf of Wayne Industries and transfers $300 out of it and into his own freshly made account.
Jaylad:
What.
Timbers:
What.
Dickie:
What.
Duke (of Earl):
What?
Dickie:
Oh hi Duke
Babs:
He stole 300 dollars from Bruce Wayne, a man he did not even know of ten minutes
prior. And he was clean about it too, covered his tracks. If I hadn’t been sitting at my computer
exactly when the alert came up even I wouldn’t have noticed with the way he erased
his presence. Hell the alert itself has been erased from my computer. It’s now displaying 0 alerts in
the past hour.
Timbers:
Sooo… we’re telling Bruce, right?
Jaylad:
Fuck that. I wanna see where this kid goes with it. What did you say his name was?
Babs:
Never got one, he seemed less than inclined to introduce himself.
Jaylad:
A punk after my own heart.