Stab. (X2)
Peter was sitting, curled up next to a dumpster, applying pressure to a stab wound inflicted by a lucky criminal. He shifted his position, wincing as he felt the skin around and inside began to itch. He knew better than to scratch it by now, it was his healing factor. It pulled and created new flesh to fill the wound- But the itch never went away. Its usually worse for bigger wounds, and sometimes hurts.
Peter groaned.
His spider-sense tingled, and he tensed slightly.
look!-danger-lurk
Peter flicked his eyes over, to what used to be the opening of the alley– which was now closed off by an out of place wall, that was a shade lighter than the others. “Huh.” He said, the lenses of his mask’s eyes squinting.
The walls seemed like they were gradually getting closer, as a (sadly) familiar shade of green fog poured out from underneath the walls that were supposed to be attached to the ground.
know-danger-alert-not safe
The loud buzzing of his Spider-sense started to grate on his nerves, combined with the uncomfortable feeling of his body mending itself together.
boom.-alert-careful
Peter braced himself.
boom indeed.
…
Peter made a noise, his limbs bent at odd angles inside a tight space. “Whuh.” He said dumbly.
He pushed the walls out, they groaned and creaked, until a hole was created, which barely even showed light. Peter clawed at the opening, stretching it wider so that he could squeeze through. He crawled out of the hole, dragging something squishy out of the container with him. First his eyesight came in, and he was able to tell that he was now in an alley, and he had just crawled out of a dumpster. His smell confirmed it after that kicked in. Peter scrambled away from the puddle of mush, pulling a trash bag that got caught on his suit off. (Frankly, he didn’t want to know what was in it.)
Peter frantically felt his face, luckily his mask was still on. He wheezed, pulling up the bottom to rest above his nose, so that he could breathe better.
Peter took a little time to himself (Like 7 minutes) before he forced himself to sit up against the wall of the alley.
‘careful-caution-danger’
Peter gently prodded his side. His wound was mostly healed, but still fragile. “Ugh..” He groaned.
Peter wanted to get somewhere safe. Somewhere high, dark, cold, and damp, and just pass out.
He used the wall to pull himself up, his right leg burning in protest. Where ever he was, it wasn’t Queens. At all. He eyes the oversized shirt sticking out of the dumpster.
..
After (not proudly) tugging on the large shirt, and tucking his suits sleeves, and legs in, he looked… an absolute mess, if he’s being honest. He rolled up his suits legs neatly so that they looked like sports shorts, but they’re bright red with a fucking spider-web pattern on it. And the dirty shirt didn’t help. The letters were scratched out and worn, but clearly could be read. ‘I shaved my balls for this.’ God, Peter hates his life. He latched his hand on the wall, beginning to climb. He went easy on his leg, instead bracing himself on his left leg, and pulling himself up with his hands. Not ideal, but whatever. He crawled up the jagged wall, throwing himself onto the roof, which, yikes, maybe he shouldn’t have done that.
“Ow..” Peter drawled as he brushed the dust and sharp rocks off his cheek and mask. He pulled his legs up after him, the pointed edge of the roof catching onto his already torn suit and ripping all the way down to where his foot began. Honestly, Peter was too tired to give a fuck. Forgive his language. He (quite pathetically, he might add) crawled up to the wall of the building connected to whatever roof he was on, and curled up in a ball, tucking himself into the corner between the building and the oddly large box vent. Just a teeeny tiny nap. He promises.
..
Peters eyes snapped open as he was abruptly woken up by a loud thud of landing, along with the entire roof rattling as multiple more thuds came, followed by quieter ones. A chase?
Peter lifted his upper half, to see a vaguely familiar cat silhouette jog by him, trailed by a less familiar, smaller figure— Was. Was that a fucking sword. Peter sat up.
Peters brown eyes met teals, before she grappled onto a higher roof, out of his line of sight. The smaller figure which was chasing her paused, put away their sword, and took out their own grappling hook. They aimed it up, only for it to click, yet no hook nor line was shot.
Bad luck, huh?
The child (because theres no way that they’re older than Peter.) growled in frustration, repeatedly pushing the 'launch’ button on the grappling hook, each press met with the same ‘chck’. The child grunted in frustration, barely aborting the movement to throw the grappling hook.
“Yikes.” Peter sympathized.
The child (tween?) whipped around, sword in hand again.
Maybe Peter should’ve stayed quiet. Ruh roh!
..
Peter wheezed. He just couldn’t get a break, could he? Not back home, Not here— wherever here even was. He kicked a pebble, and it skipped twice before sinking in the murky, quite frankly disgusting water. The water swallowed the pebble entirely, before stilling quickly. Peter wondered how deep it was.
Peter sat down, knees to his chest as he grabbed another, slightly bigger rock. He threw the rock farther. It skipped four times, before sinking. Peter stared.
He grabbed a handful, tossing them all unceremoniously at the same time. One skipped twice, the rest sank. Peter watched as the last one went under as-well. Peter scooted forward, his toes touching the waterline—
“Hey, kid.” A slightly panicked, forcefully calm voice called to him.
Peter yelped, whipping his head around. There was a tanned man in a black suit with blue accents.
How did Peter not hear him get this close? That could’ve been dangerous. Peter doesn’t like that. Are his powers messing up?
“Helloo..?” The man said again, snapping Peter back.
“Uhm. Hi.”
“Whatcha doin down here? This is private property, you know.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Did he come over here just to kick Peter out? Jackass.
“No stress. Just curious what you’re doing out here.” He walked closer. Peter moved his hand so that he wouldn’t step on it. The man sat down next to Peter. Peter leaned his legs to the other side. “Are you okay?”
“What?”
The man turned to him fully, one of his domino mask’s lenses narrowing, The other widening. “You looked a little upset. Upset enough to slip into the water.”
..Oh!
“No— I wasn’t going to… do anything like that. I was just thinking.”
“Thinking, huh? What were you thinking about?”
“Just– stuff.” Peter turned his head forward, but kept his eyes on the man. The mans Domino mask’s lenses softened, it really was impressive how expressive they could be, really. But, Peter wishes they weren’t. He can see the obvious pity on his face.
“Do you mind sharing said stuff?”
“Yes I mind.” Peter snapped. He would’ve felt bad about the way the mans eyes widened momentarily, but give him a break, He’s been stabbed, transported to God knows where, and stabbed again. Peter thinks he deserves to be a little pissy.
The man puts his hands up, before letting them fall back to rest in his lap. They both fell into silence.
Peter tucked his knees under his chin, and sniffed. The man shifted as-well, eyeing Peters (not-so) choice of clothing. Peter reddened. He probably— no, definitely looks a mess. Deciding he doesn’t have to take this scrutiny anymore, Peter abruptly stands up, (He did not almost trip and if anyone says otherwise they’re lying.) and the man also stands up after him.
“Leaving already?” The man.
“Didn’t you say it was private property? I should go.” Peter.
“I was teasing.” Blue guy.
“Either way.” Pete.
“Do you have a place to go?” The brat in blue.
“Yes.”
No—
“You sure?” Blue brat™.
“Is this an interrogation?” Peter broke the back and forth.
Blue put his hands up. “No interrogation. just seeing if your situation is a situation I have to worry about.. Y’know, making sure you aren’t living on the streets or something.” Dick said lightly
“Its not. I’m not. So..” Peter did a ‘shoo’-ing motion.
Blue paused. “Hah— Excuse me! That is rude!”
Okay, it was kinda rude.
“Sorry. I have to get going..” Peter stepped back,
and did what he always did. He ran.