Day 1 of starting my new life! A guide by Peter Parker.
Peter woke up to the faint creak of metal and the distant hum of machinery. For a moment, he thought he was back in New York. Maybe he’d passed out in some dingy hideout during patrol. Maybe Karen’s voice would tell him that Mr. Stark was on his way to chew him out for being reckless.
Then he blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim, gray light filtering through the broken windows of the warehouse, and the tarp. Reality hit like a slap to the face. Gotham. The multiverse. Right.
He groaned, pulling himself upright. His entire body ached, every muscle tight and sore, as if he’d been put through the wringer, again. His suit, still beneath his loose hoodie and joggers, itched uncomfortably, and as Peter rubbed at his face, he froze.
His hands.
They were smaller.
“No. Nope. Nope, nope, nope,” he muttered, stumbling to his feet and scrambling toward one of the reflective shards of glass near the window. His heart pounded as he crouched, gripping the piece of broken glass with trembling hands and angling it toward his face.
“Okay. Don’t panic. Just, oh my God.”
Staring back at him wasn’t the 17-year-old Peter Parker who’d gone toe-to-toe with aliens, wizards, and world-ending threats. No, this face was younger, rounder. The acne scars he’d earned after the Snap? Gone. The faint stubble he’d been so proud of? Gone. His jawline wasn’t as defined, and his hair sat in a messy mop that made him look like he’d just rolled out of middle school.
“Karen?” His voice cracked. “Uh, please tell me this is, like, a weird side effect of multiversal travel that is definitely going to go away?”
Karen’s voice chimed in, annoyingly calm. “Peter, my scans indicate that your current biological age is approximately 14 years old. I regret to inform you that I have no data suggesting this phenomenon is temporary.”
Peter dropped the shard, his head spinning. Fourteen? He was fourteen again? He hadn’t been fourteen in forever! (Three years, or technically eight?)
“Oh, come on,” he groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t even good at being 14 the first time around!”
Karen, as monotone as always, chimed in again. “Peter, your to-do list remains incomplete. May I remind you of today’s priorities?”
Right. Focus. Freaking out wasn’t going to help. Peter pushed his panic aside, forcing himself to breathe. He could deal with his sudden de-aging crisis later. Right now, he had more pressing issues, like food, water, and figuring out why the multiverse seemed so intent on kicking his butt.
“Yeah, yeah. I remember.” He sighed. “Food, water, library. Got it. Let’s go.”
-----
The Gotham City Library was...intimidating.
Peter had been expecting something like the Queens Public Library back home: warm, inviting, and a little chaotic. Instead, he found himself standing in front of a towering building made of cold stone and steel, its architecture a mix of Gothic and modern design. The inside wasn’t much better. Rows of tall, imposing shelves stretched into the distance, each one packed with old books that looked like they belonged in a museum.
Peter shifted uncomfortably as he walked through the entrance, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. A few people glanced at him as he passed, their eyes lingering a little too long. He tugged his hoodie tighter around himself, feeling every bit like the outsider he was.
“Karen, what am I even looking for?” he whispered, keeping his voice low.
“Relevant information about Gotham City, Peter,” Karen replied. “I recommend starting with current events, city history, and notable figures.”
“Cool. So, everything.”
He made his way to the nearest computer terminal, relieved to see it still worked despite its ancient-looking design. The interface was clunky and slow, but it was better than nothing. Peter typed in “Gotham City” and started scrolling through the results.
Crime reports, political scandals, and corruption dominated the headlines. Every article painted Gotham as a city teetering on the edge of chaos, with its only saving grace being the mysterious vigilante known as Batman and his birds.
Peter frowned, leaning closer to the screen. Batman wasn’t exactly new to him, well only a bit he did go over a little with Karen after all, but seeing it all laid out like this was something else. The guy wasn’t just a superhero. He was practically a myth, a ghost that criminals feared and citizens idolized.
“Okay,” Peter muttered. “So Batman’s basically Gotham’s Tony Stark, except, you know, with less tech and more brooding. Got it.”
“Correction, Peter,” Karen chimed in. “Bruce Wayne, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and would be Gotham’s equivalent of Tony Stark. Batman is—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Peter waved her off, scrolling through another article. “Rich guy, lots of money, probably has a weird sense of humor. Same difference.”
He paused, his eyes catching on a smaller headline buried at the bottom of the page.
“Wayne Enterprises Expands Shelter Program for Gotham’s Homeless Youth.”
Peter clicked the link, skimming the article. Apparently, Wayne Enterprises funded several shelters throughout the city, providing food, water, and basic necessities for those in need.
“Karen, remind me to check one of these places out later,” Peter said. “Might be a good backup plan if I can't get an identity fast enough.”
“Noted, Peter,” Karen replied.
Peter sighed, leaning back in his chair. He’d only been in Gotham for a day, and already he felt like he was drowning. This city was so different from New York, darker, heavier, like the shadows themselves were alive. And if the articles he’d read were anything to go by, things weren’t going to get any easier.
“Okay, Peter,” he muttered to himself. “You can do this. Just keep your head down, don’t draw any attention, and—”
“Hey, kid.”
Peter froze, his heart skipping a beat, he hadn't even registered her approaching him, his senses still too haywire. Slowly, he turned to see a young woman sat in a wheelchair behind him, arms crossed and a skeptical, but no less warm smile on her face. She had fiery red hair tied back in a ponytail and sharp green eyes that seemed to see right through him.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” she said, raising an eyebrow, friendly, concerned.
Peter gulped.
Oh, great.
Peter's mind raced as he tried to process the situation. This woman, whoever she was, looked like she already had him figured out. Her sharp gaze never wavered as she waited for him to respond. Peter opened his mouth, then shut it again, scrambling for an explanation that didn’t sound insane.
Think, think, think! Normal teenage excuses. You’ve done this before.
“Uh...” He forced an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Depends. Define ‘around here.’”
The woman arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Let me guess. You’re one of those runaways that just wandered into Gotham.”
“Runaway?” Peter blinked. “Uh... yeah. Totally. That’s me. Just your average, totally normal... uh... runaway kid.”
She sighed, clearly not buying it. “Look, you don’t need to lie, kid. Gotham, while not the best place to pick, has got more than its share of runaways, especially in this part of town.” She leaned forward slightly, as if studying him. “But you don’t strike me as the usual type. No grime on your shoes, no desperation in your eyes. You’re not scared enough.”
“Not scared enough?” Peter echoed, fighting the urge to cringe. If only she knew.
“Yeah,” she said. “You look lost, not scared. Big difference.”
Peter shifted under her gaze, gripping the edge of the table. She was too observant, dangerously so, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep up the act.
“Look, I appreciate the concern,” Peter said, forcing a smile that he hoped didn’t look too fake, “but I’m good. Seriously. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
The woman tilted her head, unconvinced, but she didn’t press. Instead, she extended a hand. “Barbara Gordon.”
Peter hesitated before taking her hand, shaking it quickly. “Uh... Peter. Parker.” He winced immediately. Idiot! You’re supposed to keep your identity under wraps!
“Nice to meet you, Peter Parker,” Barbara said, her lips quirking into a small smile. “So what brings you to the Gotham Public Library? Researching Mr. Wayne? That’s what most runaways come here to do, get a lay of the land.”
Peter glanced at the computer screen, realizing he still had the Wayne Enterprises article pulled up. He quickly minimized it. “I, uh... just needed to learn about the city. You know, since I’m new here and all.”
Barbara leaned back in her wheelchair, crossing her arms. “You’re either the worst liar I’ve ever met, or you’re really bad at staying inconspicuous.”
“I’ll take option two,” Peter muttered under his breath.
Barbara snorted softly, her tone light, like she's sharing a private joke, “Relax. I’m not the police.” Her tone softened slightly, though her eyes remained sharp. “But you should know Gotham’s not kind of place you should hang around. If you’re new here, you need to be careful, or you're going to get hurt. Really I would recommend heading somewhere else if you can, Gotham isn't all too safe for kids, well not for anyone really.”
Peter swallowed hard, nodding. “Noted.”
Barbara glanced around, as if making sure no one was eavesdropping. Then, she leaned in just a little. “Listen, if you really are on your own, there’s a shelter not far from here. It’s run by a... friend of mine. They can help you get on your feet, food, water, a warm bed. You’ll need it, trust me.”
Peter hesitated. Part of him bristled at the idea of being seen as some helpless kid, but another part of him, the part that was tired, cold, hurt, hungry, and increasingly aware of how alone he was, filed that information away. A charity? funded shelter. Could be useful, maybe it was one of the Wayne ones?
“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ll think about it.”
Barbara gave him a searching look, then nodded. “Good.” She paused, then added with a wry smile, “And maybe work on your story while you're at it, people are going to think you're lying to them."
Peter flushed. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
Barbara turned her chair slightly, clearly preparing to leave. “Take care of yourself, Peter. And one more thing...” She glanced back at him, her green eyes glinting with something Peter couldn’t quite place. “If you ever need help, and I mean real help, you can come find me. I’ve got friends who can help you out."
Before Peter could respond, she wheeled herself toward the lobby, disappearing between the rows of bookshelves.
Peter exhaled slowly, slumping back in his chair. “Well,” he muttered, “that wasn’t terrifying at all.”
Karen’s voice chimed softly in his ear. “Peter, my scans indicate that Barbara Gordon is the daughter of Gotham Police Commissioner James Gordon. She also has extensive ties to who I suspect to be Gotham’s vigilante network.”
Peter sat bolt upright, eyes widening. “Wait—what?!” He whisper yells, fighting to keep quiet.
“Her movements suggest close proximity to Batman and other known vigilantes,” Karen continued calmly. “It is highly likely that Barbara Gordon is aware of Gotham’s underground activities, and potentially involved herself.”
Peter groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Great. Of course I had to run into someone who knows Batman. Just my luck. Parker luck."
He glanced at the computer, frustration gnawing at him. Staying under the radar was already proving impossible. Between multiversal chaos, his de-aging problem, and now Barbara Gordon, it was only a matter of time before someone figured out he didn’t belong here.
“Karen, what’s next on the list?”
“Finding food and water, Peter,” Karen replied patiently. “And I suggest doing so sooner rather than later. Your temperature and heart rate is dropping, indicating you have gone too long without a meal.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Peter stood, stretching his stiff limbs before shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Alright. Let’s go find a shelter before someone else decides to interrogate me.”
He glanced toward the lobby, where Barbara had disappeared. A small, reluctant part of him appreciated her offer to help. He’d always been the guy who gave help, not someone who accepted it. But in Gotham, a city that seemed ready to swallow him whole, maybe he’d need to rethink that.
“One step at a time, Pete,” he muttered to himself, slipping back into the cold streets of Gotham.
-----
In a chat amply named : Bat...Bat....Bird!
Babs: I spoke to a boy at the library today. I think he might be in need of some help.
Dick: Everything okay?
Babs: He was muttering to himself, something about getting an identity, and not attracting attention. He was researching Gotham, like everything about Gotham, even Bruce.
Duke: He didn't know who Bruce was?
Dick: B? He didn't know him?
Steph: Woah, someone who doesn't know Brucie Wayne? 😲😲
Babs: Yes. The way he spoke, it was like he was trying to seem normal, and his body language screamed lost, like entirely, confused too. His clothes were too big, and he wasn't prepared for the weather, he didn't look too bothered by it though. Also...he's just kind of unsettling? I don't know how to describe it without being rude, but he felt off. Like, inhuman kind of off, I think he might be from another planet.
Dick: Another alien?
B: I shall inform Superman, and have him check for any planetary disturbances. physical description and any information, please.
Babs: Between 12-15, 5'6-7, maybe about 100lbs, brown hair, maybe dark brown copper, 2C medium length. Pale skin, big brown doe-like eyes, freckles. He was wearing loose clothing, about 3 sizes too big, his shoes fit though, or at least they didn't effect the way he walked.
B: Thank you Barbara.