Chapter 1
How Peter ended up on the streets of Gotham when he wasn’t aware Gotham even existed two hours ago was beyond him. He only remembered falling off the building preparing to swing when his heart sank when he realized he had no web fluid left. He felt like never hit the ground but awoke on a rooftop in this new city. His legs dangling dangerously off the roof.
He only wore a pair of basketball shorts and his binder. He cried at the thought of losing all of his progress in his world. Even after Dr. Strange erased everyone’s memories of him he made a living and was surviving on his own. Sirens rushed past him below. The rumbling of the cars snapped him out of his self deprecating spiral.
He looked down at the rushing police cars with his tear-filled eyes. Realizing the city he was positioned in didn’t even have a Spider-Man but rather when he looked across from his roof to the opposing rooftops he could see a group of possible vigilantes hopping from roof to roof.
He stands. His hands shaking as he turns away from the vigilantes and tries to find a reliable way down.
He hears the thudding footsteps of the vigilantes and the loud sirens from the cop cars quiet into the distance. He walks to the edge of the roof furthest from where he awoke. Peter sees a run down fire escape missing the highest two staircases that lead to the roof. Carefully he lowers himself down the missing staircase. Glancing into the apartments on each level to ensure he wasn’t outing himself of being mutated.
He glanced into the second to last floor and saw a supposedly regular apartment that reeked of blood and gunpowder but had an underlying scent of dust. He stopped and looked closer into the apartment and saw a thick layer of dust coating everything within. Cobwebs strewn in the corners of the apartment and across the guns strewn about the room.
Nobody will notice. His mind whispered, his gut trusted it but felt horrible as he climbs through the window attached to the fire escape. The window screeched terribly at the opening, clearly not have been opened in a long while. Peter’s spider-sense not yet had gone off and he took that as a good sign. Guilt racked his being at the thought of living in someone’s home without their knowledge.
Peter carefully walked on the dusty carpet, the sensory hell of a dusty carpet and bare feet. He walked to where he thought the bedroom was. The door ajar he slowly creeped into the room and saw a comfortable bed littered with blood stains, and a large comforter with a quilt. He walked to the open closet at the end of the room. Multiple masculine clothes were hung, with a brown leather jacket with a few bullet holes and ripped seams, not to mention the blood stains. However, it was so soft inside.
He reached for a few of the large shirts made for a broad shouldered man. A few soft shirts had corny literature puns, and others were simple colors except a few formal shirts and ragged ties shoved to the back amongst, you guessed it, more guns. He shouldn’t be surprised with all of the guns around the apartment.
Peter chooses a large white shirt with a corny pun on it. He walks across the dusty hallway to the bathroom, everything covered in a light film of grime and blood. He takes the binder off carefully. The binder was too tight and while he removed it, it ripped down the left seam. Tears started to well in his eyes. But Peter blinked it back. Not allowing himself to cry for such a simple issue. He could just stitch it up tomorrow! Surely the last owners of this apartment had a sewing kit.
He slipped the musty shirt on over his now bare torso. He turns on the faucet to check for running water, and it surprisingly works. Even the hot water. Hope runs through him at the thought of electricity. He tries the light switch next to him and the bulbs above him barely light up. Showering everything in a dim light. He flashed the lights for a moment before turning them out and walking back to the bed.
He sits down and relaxes into the bed, getting ready to sleep.
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Jason’s POV
*Bruce just had to ask me for help with a metahuman trafficking ring that I was already working on.* He was on his way back from the work with Batman passing by his old safe house. He didn’t even know why he kept that one funded since he hadn’t gone inside of it since he revealed to Bruce that he was alive. But he would keep it funded in case he needed it eventually. Just in case.