Charisma
Peter couldn’t breathe. This is the first thing he remembers.
He never was supposed to, he’s supposed to be dead dead dead- .
Dread crawls up through his spine, unsettling his beating heart that further drags through his lungs, burning his nerves as his headache suddenly screams Danger Danger Danger!
He moves before he could ever recall why or who he is, his hands burn in a feverous intensity to push, to claw, to rip apart and he lets them move him as colorless walls crack and shudder beneath them, exposing his ears to familiar sounds screaming louder warnings.
Everything burns, hurts, burns, burns, hurts! His ears want to bleed, too many sounds, too little to focus on, he hears lights flicker, the sounds of engines make his skin crawl, there are screams- HURT, BURN, RUN RUN RUN- there's so much, so much going on, he can’t, he can’t deal with this-
Colors, bright, BURN-
Peter screws his eyes shut and covers his ears, there is so much.
Yet his hands mean nothing to the sounds, even when they dig into the flesh of his scalp. He thinks the force of his palms might’ve dislocated his jaw.
Peter stumbles forward, the sounds guiding him away, his spine screaming at his legs to move.
Left, left, run run run, STOP!
Peter’s body nearly lunges forward when his bare feet suddenly grip the wet ground, he feels the whiplash against his skin as something fast goes by him.
Oil, wind, engines, many, Road.
His skin still burns.
His spine- his sixth sense, he remembers- guides his trembling body away away, quieter, trash, safer.
Peter crashes against a metal object - trash, large, Dumpster – loudly enough that it makes Peter want to cry, and he can physically feel the metal shift underneath the clothes of his back.
Breathe breathe breathe, too little, too fast, BREATHE, SLOW.
He tries to breathe, but it comes out shaky and fast, he can’t - stop – fast, CALM.
He can’t calm down, his heart’s beating too fast, fast, slow heart, focus, MIMIC.
The sounds seemingly get louder, and it drives Peter further into a panic. It’s simply too loud, everything practically screams danger! And it makes his nerves burn burn burn with such an intensity that he wants to bathe in acid to rid him of his skin.
He can’t manage this- steady, calm, MIMIC.
And surely, there, Peter’s hearing focuses on an eerily calm heartbeat who knows how far. Far, close, up, steady, MIMIC.
Peter, finally, listens to his instincts rather than having his senses work for him and against-
Calm.
Peter focuses on the beating heart a good distance away, noting how it occasionally jumps every few beats, abnormal, but steady, it reminds Peter of how Cap’s sounded when-
Fucking Focus you idiot.
If Peter wasn’t already in a shit ton of pain, he would’ve winced, but he already is, so he tightens his grip on his hair, listening to the one, two, one, two reminiscent of a clock in a way while listening to his own screech-like rhythm, listening, focusing and waiting for these two beats to synchronize.
ONe, TwO, oNe, twO, one, two-
Calm.
Peter can finally breathe.
It’s slow at first, how his heart calms and then his breathing. It takes longer for the burn burn burn to go away, but it happens, it happens one by one and Peter begins to think again.
He lets go of his hair, absent-mindedly reminding himself to go wash his hair later to get the blood out before his sinuses decide to kill him for it. He would not like a repeat of a smell-based sensory overload and panic attack like last time, no thank you, you can keep the order for yourself, sir.
Now for the boring part, where is he?
Not home, very far.
Peter opens his eyes, because damnit, if he’s in Germany again for the fourth time he might just lose his shit, but by the lack of sickeningly white walls and the fact he isn’t covered in too much blood he can safely deduce that he isn’t in Germany.
What does he remember? Well, he went to visit Amy-
Danger! Panic! Unsafe!
Peter grabs the bottom edge of the dumpster behind him and hurls it towards his left.
... Whoops.
Whoops? Whoops. That's all you have to say?
Unsafe, get away. Are all his senses respond with, and Peter would’ve rolled his eyes if they weren’t swimming in a haze of colors and shapes – dangerous stranger – in the same alleyway that he stumbled into. He has to leave, if his senses are so short-circuited that he throws an entire dumpster one-handedly in civvies at a supposed threat, then he’d rather not stick around to see what else his senses might make him do when in a physical fight.
He pushes himself up and hisses at the moving disorientated colors. His hearing is still in hyper-drive, so he at least knows he didn’t accidentally kill the random alley person. They’re alive and awake, most likely with a concussion but alive. From what Peter can tell, they’re awkwardly maneuvered with their arms raised against the dumpster, between it and the wall opposite Peter. With Peter’s swimming vision, he can make out that the dumpster landed on an angle against the wall, explaining why this guy is somehow alive. The angle must’ve crashed against the wall before hitting Alley Guy, getting pushed by the side rather than taking the direct hit.
With the raised arms, Peter is sure the guy hadn’t expected the dumpster fly special – who would? - and turned once they noticed, trying to shield the impact. Guilt starts to gnaw at the back of Peter’s head, Alley Guy didn’t even know he was there. The alley stretches far out, so they couldn’t have come from the other side that quickly. Alley Guy came from jumping down the fire escape – and when he landed, he got dumpster attacked. This is going to eat him alive for weeks, isn’t it?
He hears a strangled – is that a voice modulator? – groan from Alley Guy as they start to push at the dumpster. And before Peter can guilt himself into checking their injuries, he takes that as his cue to get away.
He sprints to the mouth of the alley, leaving Alley Guy behind the dumpster, and slips into the street as carefully as a trained vigilante should.
Once he reaches a crowd, he slows down to a walk, mimicking the demeanor of the passersby.
Which already gives him his first few clues of where he is.
Hypothesis number one: Hell’s Kitchen or Not New York.
He mentally scratches out the first one, he hasn’t recognized Matt’s heartbeat yet, and it’s dark out, so it should be all over the place.
So, he’s in Not New York.
Wow, that’s useful.
Peter briefly wonders if talking back to his Spider-Sense would be considered crazy, or if the fact that his Spider-Sense is acting like a sassy teen in itself is crazy.
Not New York is fast-paced but depressing, guarded but tired and it feels like New York, but it also doesn’t. It’s fast-paced and lively, guarded but excited, Not New York has a gloomy undertone that once existed in New York, and probably still exists in some of its corners.
But this much gloom and doom for miles to come? Definitely Not New York.
Or it could be, he could be back in time, or he could’ve fallen through some dimensional rift to a Different New York, wouldn’t be the first times that’s happened, although he wasn’t directly involved with the first option.
He takes a deep breath, noting how strong the smog is. He’s inclined to start coughing already, enhanced lungs do not work well with any type of smoke.
Okay so, it’s dark out, and he’s in a city with a lot of chemicals in the air to the point it he’s sure a non-enhanced person could tell, the city’s population is depressing and well-guarded, going off of how every person he walks past smells of gunpowder, the crime rate is sky high and it’s bad enough that everyone is either involved or close enough to it to warrant such measures of self-defense.
And it’s horribly hot out, so he’s not in Germany. Small victories he guesses.
Although it might be, considering the gothic architecture.
The buildings look modern, but they exclude this feeling of old that he associates with much older, historically rich cities and towns. There are gargoyles on each tower, acting as sentinels over the streets below, they’re doing a shit job, but they look cool anyway. There are thousands of lights and signs, flickering in a bohemian of colors that stretch into the streets, painting the sidewalk with different forms of what Peter could consider abstract art every few seconds. Beautiful but not really epilepsy friendly, minus three points.
The city practically sings in caution, danger, wary.
From every corner, he feels like he’s being watched, but not in the way that makes him feel like the main target, more in the way of being scanned, assessed, in the typical pick pocketer or mugger’s way, looking for valuable or easy pickings.
Yeah, crime is definitely a large part of society here, there are eyes watching, warry, moving on, from every direction, from both far and close. But once he picks up from exactly where, it moves, as if not interested. Subtly glancing down at his own complexion, he can understand exactly why.
He’s covered in weird goop – that has a hint of green undertones to it – and his clothes are absolutely drenched in it. His shirt and pants are ripped at odd angles and he’s barefoot. He both feels and looks like he’s crawled out of a sewer drain. Any reasonable thief wouldn’t try snatching something off someone who resembles the lockness swamp man.
Someone bumps into him, and, being raised by Politeness' incarnation itself, he attempts to apologize as he briefly pretends to fumble. His jaw burns at the action - he’ll have to set it back into place later – and the lassie who bumped into him swears at him like a sailor, and mumbles something about tourists before walking away.
Add rude to the list of traits he’s been making about the city.
It’s only one person, so he can’t really judge but something about their accent tells him that he might not be too far off.
It tickles the back of his brain, it’s not his spider-sense, that much he can tell, but it’s something that he knows bothers him in some way. Something that regards his civilian identity, whether it’s from before the Bite™ or before the Lost, it’s probably going to come back to bite him in the ass once he remembers.
The farther he walks, the more he notices the city getting louder. His spider-sense tells him that the danger is steadily increasing as he walks farther – closer – to the heart of someplace. The people become increasingly less, faster, and more rugged than the ones he’s already passed.
A twang of copper fills his mouth, causing him to abruptly stop.
He brings his hand up to his mouth on instinct, why is-
Sharp, danger, turn around, danger.
His fangs tore through his inner lip.
He glances around and actually looks rather than trying to figure everything out at once -
Everything looks broken down.
There are stains – of all different kinds – littering each corner.
There are burns, rubble, useless broken items cluttered together, graffiti starting to dawn upon each wall.
He doesn’t like it here.
Turn around.
Now, Peter’s spider-sense has always been cool and wacky, and he knows that it sometimes warns him of useless stuff like a puddle he’s about to step in.
But Peter has more common sense ever since The Lost, ignoring his spider-sense that’s reacting at this level of urgency would be suicide even if his enhancements are malfunctioning.
So, he listens, Peter turns around and aimlessly follows the river of streets that sprawl across the city, carefully avoiding passing the same alley Alley Guy’s in.
Finding somewhere safer should be the first thing on his list, but Peter’s enhanced, inhuman, and is literally Spider-Man, so it’s only third, right now, figuring out where he is is vital.
*Think Peter, what would give you a general idea of where you are? Landmarks are out, he sucked at Geography, his unfortunate American trait. He already knows he doesn’t have a phone on him, the distinct smell of copper exclusively coming from his mouth and his wounds, not from any wiring. He doesn’t plan on stealing one...
Borrowing is fine, right? He did it all the time calling the cops as Spider-Man, except for the times he asked Karen-
Focus.
Borrowing is out of the list of possibilities, because he isn’t Spider-Man right now, and no one on the streets looks willing enough to lend their phone to a stranger. He also has the distinct feeling he might get hit by a brick if he were to even ask.
So, no phones, maybe a place with free access to computers? A library perhaps, even a city that looks as underfunded as this one is bound to have one stocked with computers, he’s sure that’s like a requirement for libraries. Maybe, possibly, perhaps-ly, could-be, may-haps-
Shut up.
Maybe not a library, he can’t be too sure about if they have computers, and he has no idea where to go looking for one. He can’t just aimlessly keep walking around and hope he stumbles into one, he needs a quicker-
Heads Up! Catch.
His hand moves upwards, and he hears an old man curse a distance away from upwind, “ For Fuck’s sake, I just fucking bought that!”
Something smacks right up into his hand, curling around his hand as it gets blown by the wind, the old crinkly thing looks like-
A Newspaper!
He quickly maneuvers himself to lean against the nearest wall, careful to not stand in anyone’s way while he skims the Newspaper of any important information to him.
Gotham Gazette
17 January 2028
Arkham Asylum's Latest Escape: Scarecrow's Return
By Vicki Vale
Gotham City - Arkham Asylum's notorious reputation has taken another blow as the notorious Scarecrow has once again managed to escape from the institution's maximum-security wing. According to sources, the cunning convict was last seen fleeing the scene in a cloud of cotton fibers, leaving behind a trail of chaos and confusion.
Eyewitnesses describe the escape as "surreal" and "terrifying", with many reporting seeing the Scarecrow's signature straw-stuffed mask and tattered noose-tie fluttering in the wind. Authorities are scrambling to track down the escaped inmate, who is considered extremely dangerous and unpredictable.
This is not the first time the Scarecrow has managed to escape from Arkham, and many are left wondering how he managed to pull off such an audacious heist. Insiders claim that lax security measures and outdated surveillance technology may have contributed to the breach.
The Gotham City Police Department has issued a warning to citizens, urging them to exercise extreme caution and report any sightings of the Scarecrow to the authorities immediately. Meanwhile, Arkham Asylum officials have promised a thorough investigation into the matter and vow to take steps to prevent future escapes.
As the city holds its breath, one thing is certain: the Scarecrow's return is a stark reminder that even in a city as crime-ridden as Gotham, there are those who will stop at nothing to wreak havoc on its citizens. Stay tuned for further updates on this developing story.
Peter has so many questions.
Gotham? Yeah, a fitting name, but yeesh was it uncreative, or was it creative and the city played into the theme a bit too much? If, say, Gotham was named ‘Happy-ville’ would it be less Gothy? Not that being a Goth doesn’t mean being unhappy, but names are important to the development of people and places, Peter knows that much at least.
Problem number two – Arkham Asylum?
Peter is no expert, but aren’t Asylum’s usually more... don’t they usually have a lot of security over their patients? The article implies that this happens often, so wouldn’t this Scarecrow guy be put under more surveillance? And the Scarecrow in itself? A noose-tie, what the fuck. Shouldn’t the Asylum be confiscating items that may potentially injure the patient? Why the hell is the Newspaper calling them the Scarecrow? Dear lord, that isn’t a serial killer sentenced with insanity who escaped, is it?
Peter shakes his head, the Scarecrow isn’t his problem right now, he’s more concerned over the first few tidbits of information.
It’s 2028.
Peter has seen and experienced strange things, things that include going on a high after accidentally inhaling vaporized DMT, dying, and, finding out he can make strange spider sounds. So, the year being different from what he remembers is not as surprising as it should be, but rather than time travel, he’s pretty convinced this is a different universe.
Why? Because recently, for some reason, the multiverse has become part of his Spider-Man identity. There’s this random portal in the street that looks like it leads to a different New York? Call Spider-Man. Wilson Fisk is building a multiversal teleporter? Yeah, Matt, call Spider-Man, that’s a great idea. Help, you’re stuck in a different universe and need help getting back to yours? Call Spider-Man first, the literal sorcerer supreme is totally the second-best option here. The multiverse might be destroying New York? Call both, just to be safe.
Peter is convinced he’s in a different universe.
But, like, how?
The how’s pretty important, especially because he needs to find a way back.
Is he here because of magic or science? Is he the same or has the displacement changed aspects of his? Would he need to reverse them, or would they pose no complications to his return? Why is he in Gotham and not an alternative to New York? Is Gotham the alternative to New York? Is there a different version of Peter here? Is there a different version of Spider-Man here? How different is here from home? Does this dimension have the same materials? Do they have the materials needed for him to consider creating a machine to return? Would he have to find a magic user to send him back? Is there magic here –
Shut up.
Peter already knows where he is, finding his way back should be fifth on the list of things he needs to do right now. He’s already found out where he is, sort of, and right now he needs to fulfill objective number two.
Find Food.
Yeah, this’ll go well.