Chapter Text
Out of all possibilities of what could happen, the former was not on Strange’s prevention list. The distant thunder of the multiverse echoed around wreckage, a cacophony of existence that vibrated through the air. From worlds beyond their own, Strange can feel their calling and determination, all screaming for one individual, ‘Peter Parker.’ They were drawn together by their similar goal, flowing to this very spot in his universe. It was creating ripples in his reality that dampened the mood of victory below.
Peter, who had his arms around the other Peters in thanks. His friends, Ned, and MJ, were not too far away, watching. All covered in grim from the long night they had. They just sent back the criminals of the other Peters worlds, and now it was time to send off all but one Parker, for now.
They should be celebrating, but Strange could not stop what was coming. He could sense the forces of the multiverse pressing against the fragile barrier that separated them. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he prepared for the inevitable struggle ahead.
‘Think,’ Dr Strange furrowed his eyebrows, determined to find a way to solve this. So many pathways of solutions opened as he used the time stone. Envisioned all the possibilities and solutions and even went further to see what events would be caused by such meddling. He needed a way to save his universe, to save Peter, a boy from whom he had taken so much. Barely turning twenty, he already had the world on his shoulders.
— He should have been 24 if not for the blip.
Only some possibilities looked promising, but they always ended the same way: a catastrophe. He, maybe, could use multiple solutions. A different dimension and an erasure spell?
He knew that sending him to another dimension would merely postpone the inevitable; the external forces would continue their relentless pursuit. An erasure spell, a solution that would obscure Peter's existence in this universe, constantly wiping the memories of him from everyone's thoughts. Yet those who seek the forgotten will remember and lead to the same end.
This may be a more effective strategy. Doing both would ensure that Peter's presence here wouldn't start to be questioned, that people wouldn’t start to remember, or that they would forget because he was not around in a new universe with no soul named Peter Parker. It would protect him and everyone, as nothing like this would happen again. The universe wouldn't collapse if Peter Parker were gone.
Strange looked down at the trio below. He could see the exhaustion in their movements, but their smiles were enough to cause his heart to ache for what was to come.
“Parker,” Peter looked up to see Strange at the top of the wreckage, seemingly making a portal. He watched as Strange beckon him over with his fingers.
Looking at his friends, Peter gave a small salute, “Looks like the wizard needs me.” He pointed his web shooter up, “Be back in a blip!”
“—Too soon!” Ned roared with laughter as Peter launched himself into the air at Strange.
Peter landed as softly as possible with his injured leg and limped closer to Dr. Strange. The swirling Portal shimmered to life and lit the morning air with a lush glow. He could feel the tension in the air; it melted away his relaxed mood to a stance preparing for what Strange had in store.
“I’m sorry, Peter.” Strange looked the younger hero in the eye, “This was the only way.”
Peter, confused in Strange's words, took a step back, “What?”
Strange interrupted, “I looked at all the possibilities to stop the universe from crashing. This was the only solution that didn't end in destruction.”
Peter took another step back; he knew that whatever Strange was about to say was going to shake the remaining strength he had left.
Strange's voice was laced with empathy. “You must leave this dimension to protect your friends. Staying here puts them in constant danger.” He looked back at the portal he had created. “I’m sending you to a universe where no Peter Parker exists in yet.”
Peter Parker's heart raced as he looked around, the reality of the situation sinking in. “But Ned and MJ.” his voice faltered, thick with emotion and fear.
Doctor Strange placed a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder. "They will be safe," he said, his tone soothing as he explained that the memories of Peter would be erased from their minds. “Saying goodbye is the hardest part, but it’s for their good,” he continued, recognizing the deep pain in Peter’s eyes. With Peter gone, he reminded him that the external threats would no longer circle his loved ones. Relocating him was a necessary sacrifice to ensure their safety and his own.
In a race of thoughts, Peter questioned, “Can I bring a bag with me?” His voice lacked the strength he desired to project.
With a wave of his hand, the sorcerer dropped a bag at the foot of the portal. “Though it wasn’t for this purpose,” the sorcerer began, “Tony had something prepared for you.”
This only leads to one conclusion: Tony always knew he was going to die in the final battle. Given the frayed and dusty condition of the bag, he likely prepared it the moment he returned to Earth, hoping that Strange hadn’t lied to him. He must have lost hope at first, only to regain it years later.
“Why now?”
“It didn't have a purpose until now.” Strange suddenly huffed in pain. “I can’t hold this portal much longer, kid.” He looked below. Peter followed his gaze and looked at his best friends. “Go. Say goodbye.”
Stepping to the ledge, Peter shook where he stood. “Goodbye, Doctor Strange,” Peter said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Before he stepped away, Strange turned to him, and said gently, “It's Stephen, kid.”
With a bittersweet smile, Peter replied, “Goodbye, Stephen.”
Taking a deep breath, Peter turned toward his friends, tears brimming in his eyes as he landed. "Ned, MJ," he started, his voice trembling with emotion. “I have to go.”
Confusion washed over Ned’s face. “Go where? What’s happening?”
“It’s complicated,” Peter replied, glancing back at Strange for support. The sorcerer nodded with understanding. “But please trust me, this is for the best. I love you both.”
MJ stepped closer, worry etched across her features. “Peter, please don’t do this.” Judging by the portal and the looks the two were sharing, MJ knew something was amiss. “We can figure something out together.”
“No, we can’t,” Peter said firmly yet with a profound sadness. “If I stay, everyone I care about will be at risk. You have to understand I need to do this, for you.” His words carried the weight of his determination, a resolve to protect his loved ones at any cost.
Tears sparkled in MJ’s eyes as she took Peter’s hand. “I can’t lose you. It’s not fair.”
“You won’t lose me,” he replied softly, squeezing her hand with all the love he felt for them. His love for his friends was a powerful force, a bond that transcended even the barriers of memory loss. He turned to Ned, meeting his friend’s gaze with deep sincerity. “I’ll always be with you, just in another universe.”
The portal pulsed gently, as if apologizing for how everything had turned out. Peter took one last look at his friends, his heart heavy. “I’ll find you again, I promise.”
He paused, letting the bitter tears flow freely. “If not in this life,” he said, his voice choked, “then in the next.” The pain of his sacrifice was a heavy burden, a weight that settled in his heart. Before he could hesitate any longer, he turned towards the swirling abyss, stepping into the unknown. As the portal closed behind him, he felt the weight of his sacrifice settle in his heart, the image of Ned and MJ fading from view but forever etched in his soul.
As Peter Parker stepped through the portal to a new dimension, his body faced relentless destruction and repair. When he crossed over, the fabric of his being was torn apart only to be reassembled in an instant, leaving him a strange blend of agony and exhilaration. It felt as though the universe itself was caught in a state of confusion, unable to determine the trajectory of his existence. The uncertainty wrapped around him like a thick fog, leaving him disoriented and restless. Peters’ vision pulsated, blurring and expanding with such intensity that it threatened to overwhelm him, each flicker making his stomach churn. The most distressing part was the acute awareness that he was screaming—a primal, desperate sound, aching to escape, but no noise echoed back at him.
The ache radiating from his wrists and the sharp pangs in his teeth were not merely the aftermath of a particularly vigorous night of web-slinging or the strain of his dual existence as a student and superhero. These pains were the physical manifestations of a deeper transformation, one triggered by his new fate in a different dimension.
Having crossed the boundaries of reality, Peter discovered that the act of dimensional traveling had unwittingly set into motion an evolution within him. Each universe encountered had its nuances, different laws of physics, variances in genetic makeup, and new challenges to face. Elements of each dimension he passed lingered in his body, contorting and reshaping his very physiology. The discomfort he felt in his wrists was not merely a sign of injury but a signal of adaptation; his muscles and tendons were reconfiguring themselves to better accommodate the diverse array of forces he encountered. The pain in Peter's teeth showed how his body was adapting to strange new energies. It served as a reminder of how his physical form interacted with the constant changes of the multiverse.
It was not long before his face kissed the cement, and his body shivered from the cold rain that had showered him. Steadily, he sat up and leaned against the wall next to him. The area reminded him of Hell's Kitchen. He couldn't shake the anticipation coursing through his veins. He braced himself, knowing that the next moments would be crucial.
Seeing the bag, Strange left him; he tried to get up and quickly grab it, using his sudden rush of adrenaline. But his legs buckled, and he landed with a thump on the paved floor. His body was still recovering from the journey, but the wariness of what lay ahead kept him alert and focused. Each throb on his wrists and each jolt in his jaw was a reminder of the journey he had undertaken; an evolution marked by the intermingling of worlds far beyond his own. Leaving him in pain yet undeniably more resilient, navigating the intricate path of life in-between dimensions.
Pushing himself through his struggle, Peter crawled the rest of the way to the bag. He opened it under the shelter of a dumpster lid and peered into the bag. He was met with some papers and a few random items, but what stood out the most was a case that had his logo on it. When his fingers brushed against the metallic material, the case came to life and slowly wrapped itself around Peter.
‘Nanites?’ The suit wrapped around him and instantly started to heat up his body. Yet the idea of having a suit from Tony wasn’t the first thing on his mind, “—Karen?” he called out, his voice strained. He needed to know if the AI he always relied on was here.
“Hello, Peter.”
A wave of relief washed over Peter as he finally managed to rise to his feet, the cold, damp ground releasing its grip on him with the help of the suit. The realization that he wasn’t truly alone brought a flicker of hope to his chest. Survival was all-consuming in his mind, and the thought of Karen's presence made the daunting task ahead feel a little less insurmountable.
“I’m glad to hear from you, Kare.” Peter laughed sadly. Even with the emotional toll of everything that had happened in the last few hours, he was happy to have one thing from home with him: a familiar voice.
“I’m not able to connect to the Servers. Is there something I need to be aware of?” Her mechanical voice kept Peter sane as he started to stumble through the alley with the bag on his back.
“We’re in a new universe,” he admitted quickly, putting his hands on the wall. He slowly started to ascend, not wanting to walk the streets with his suit on in the unknown.
His priority was to find some clothes. Then, he needed information; he had to gather as many details as possible about his surroundings. As he scanned the landscape, he noted that the atmosphere was dark and oppressive, thick with clouds that loomed overhead, yet it still resembled the Earth he knew, albeit twisted and melancholic. The familiar shadows surrounded him, a reminder that although he was in an unfamiliar place, a part of his home lingered just beneath the surface.
“Affirmative. Please find the nearest internet source so I can connect to a server.” The task already forming in his head as she continued, “that way I can research the universe we’ve found ourselves in.”
Peter chuckled, “It's like you can read my mind.”
“I am programmed to be the best assistant to you.”
Taking advantage of the night for stealth, Peter carefully climbed to the roof of the neighboring building in search of useful items. During his exploration, he encountered a family’s laundry, which provided an unexpected opportunity. As he leaped to the next roof, he creatively webbed some of the clothes to secure them. Although he landed on the other roof with some discomfort, He quickly threw on the clearly too-big jeans and sweater, hiding his suit underneath.
It didn't take long for him to notice the differences between his home and his current location. Everything seemed to be a few years behind. His uh tingles were on high alert, making him feel nervous. "You got this, Parker," he muttered to himself as he stepped onto the street. "Get it together."
It didn't take him long to find an open place, leaning against the building. Peter pressed to open Karen's screen, navigating through Tony's wrist phone, which he also found in the bag. He found the small restaurant's internet connection; it was easy to hack the password with the advanced tech he had.
“Alright, Karen. Do your thing.” He ran a hand through his hair while waiting for the AI to reconnect to this universe's Tony Stark's servers. Even if this universe didn't have a Peter Parker in it, the others could be here. That was enough to ease his mind for now. Though she was taking longer than usual, Peter looked back at his wrist. " Everything okay, Karen?”
“After researching the database, the names Tony Stark and Stark Industries were not found. Continuing to search for alternatives.”
Peter Parker’s heart raced as the realization washed over him: in this new universe, Tony Stark didn’t exist. The vibrant memories of their shared laughter, deep conversations, and guidance that had shaped his development felt like shadows in a dark void. Panic surged within him, tightening his chest as he grappled with the implications of his mentor's absence. Without Tony, the Avengers—his family of heroes—were just a distant myth, a team of legends that never came together.
“The Avengers are also not found.”
They’re not here either? The weight of loneliness pressed on him as he thought of the battles they fought, the bonds they forged, and now, the gaping hole left by an absent father figure. He was adrift in an unfamiliar world, haunted by the absence of those who had once been his greatest allies, and the suffocating sense of isolation threatened to swallow him whole.
He had clung to an earnest hope and whispered countless prayers, yearning for this place to still resonate with the same faces he once cherished so deeply. He started to grip his chest as he panicked, “Karen, is there a Ned here?”
“Negative, Peter.”
“Is there an MJ?” he whispered as tears filled his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Peter.”
Peter lowered himself to the floor, and he hugged his knees tightly to his chest. He closed his eyes, trying to find a moment of calm, but a surge of panic suddenly gripped him. He realized too late he was hoping to find alternate versions of his friends and family here. Now that hope was disintegrating the last nerves he had left. His heart raced in his chest, and he could feel the tightness in his throat as anxiety washed over him like a storm. The world around him faded away, leaving only the confusion of his racing thoughts and the clenching fear that had taken hold.
“Peter, your levels are rising dangerously high. I’ll activate the necessary procedures.”
A thick fog of uncertainty enveloped him, leaving him bewildered and lost in the whirlwind of recent events. His mind raced, trying to grasp the enormity of his losses, the pieces of his former life scattering like leaves in the wind. The weight of despair settled heavily on his chest, echoing the haunting realization that there was no path back to the familiar warmth of home. There is no way back to the comfort and security he once took for granted. Only an endless expanse of uncertainty stretched before him. No Way Home.
“What the fuck am I going to do?”
“Your best, Peter.”
˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚
Gotham City loomed like a dark sentinel, its sprawling landscape molded by shadows and secrets. Skyscrapers pierced the night sky, their jagged silhouettes a testament to the city's frenetic energy, reaching toward the stars as if trying to escape the smog that clung to the air. The gothic architecture, with its ornate gargoyles and towering spires, whispered tales of a bygone era, evoking both beauty and foreboding. Streets teemed with life yet pulsed with danger, where every alleyway threatened to conceal the next villain waiting to strike.
As rain fell steadily, the asphalt glistened like a black mirror, reflecting neon lights that flickered above. Advertisements for clubs, bars, and various enterprises hiding more than they revealed. In the depths of those dimly lit streets, the ever-present sounds of sirens sliced through the night, echoing the city's turbulent heart. Shadows danced under the faint glow of streetlamps, casting an ominous pall over the faces of those who wandered too close to the dark side of Gotham.
The air was thick with tension, the kind that made every stranger a suspect and every flicker of movement a potential threat. Outsiders often struggled to grasp Gotham's essence: a city where hope battled despair, and the line between heroism and villainy was often indistinguishable.
Peter spent hours on the side of that little restaurant, listening to all the information Karen could gather in this new place. A place with laws and physics unlike anything he had ever known. Realizing that the heroes who fought for justice here were different from the ones he had once stood beside was disorienting. It was a stark reminder of how far he had traveled from the familiar, leaving him to grapple with feelings of longing and uncertainty in this strange new world.
When the rain subsided, Peter made his way to the only public library in Gotham. There, the two of them got to work on breaching through the computers and making a life for Peter, a background and birth certificate were easy. Even though Peter had just turned 20, he made sure that his ID said he was 21. It felt strange to see the printed age on the ID. In his own universe, because of the blip, he was considered 23, and his ID had a star on it to indicate that. However, that detail cannot be found on this ID. It was just one more thing about this universe that he would have to get used to.
Also had to get used to how easy it was to get a fake printed. Almost every corner of Gotham could do it. No questions either.
Peter B. Parker was born in Queens, New York, on August 10, 1976. At 21, he was in the year 1997, which meant this universe was 28 years behind his own. He would have to get accustomed to the differences in time.
Now, with an identity, he pushed himself to find a more secure shelter. He made his way around an area Karen found listed as abandoned. If you tell him, this is a good starting point for shelter. The remnants of abandoned buildings loomed around him like silent sentinels, and among them, he discovered an apartment that offered a temporary refuge.
Though the moment he let himself collapse and get a chance to go over everything that happened to him, it was like a dam broke. For weeks, he inhabited that small, shadowy space, lying on a tattered mattress that sagged in the middle, its fabric threadbare and stained with time. The air was thick with the musty scent of neglect, mingled with the faint aroma of mildew. Peter spent countless hours methodically cleaning and organizing the chaotic remnants of the previous occupants, hoping to create a sanctuary amid the chaos that surrounded him. Each motion felt like a ritual as he wiped away layers of dust and grime, desperately trying to reclaim a sense of order in his life.
It was also just him resisting the inevitable. He would have to step into this new world to experience it and earn a living. Yet he couldn't get himself out the front door, as if a weight were holding him back.
Day after day, he watched as the sunlight filtered weakly through the cracked windows, casting irregular patterns on the floor. To him, time felt like a relentless tide, pulling him deeper into despair. He lay there, consumed by a profound sense of isolation, battling feelings of hopelessness as he reflected on the life he had once envisioned.
Now and then, he would look around at the peeling wallpaper and scattered debris, reminders of the dreams he had painstakingly built, all of which now felt as fleeting as the dust motes dancing in the sunlight. The motivation to rise and move forward slipped through his fingers like sand. Each moment seemed to stretch into eternity as he questioned whether he possessed the strength to rise from this bleak existence or if he was destined to remain trapped in this haunting cycle of stagnation, lost among the fragments of his former self.
He meandered through the dense fog of his thoughts, feeling utterly unattached, as if adrift on a ship lost at sea. Memories of Ned and MJ surged in his mind, creating a dynamic montage of laughter and heroics from their unforgettable adventure with the Avengers. Each moment unfolded like a vibrant film reel, alive with the audacious thrills of their escapades and the bonds they had forged along the way. Those memories pulsed with energy, beckoning him to recall the excitement and warmth that filled their shared experiences.
Yet, amidst the gleeful echoes of the past, the weight of his disorientation deepened. He grasped at those joyful fragments, each one slipping through his fingers like grains of sand, desperately seeking solace in their remnants. The image of Mr. S-Tony loomed in his mind, an ever-present specter that seemed to follow him, haunting the recesses of his thoughts.
He found himself in this new place, a space that felt foreign and unsettling. The overwhelming urge to return home consumed him; he longed for the familiarity and safety of his own universe. But he couldn’t go back—not after everything he had done. He grappled with the seriousness of his mistakes, haunted by the memory of how close he had come to unraveling his own reality. Spiderman had nearly brought his world crashing down, and the last thing he wanted was to repeat that destructive cycle in this new reality. He needed to find a way to navigate this strange territory without causing further chaos.
He couldn’t be Spiderman here; he wouldn't. There were enough heroes around to protect this world, and he didn't need to be one. Yet the truth in his thoughts was that he was scared to be Spiderman again, to ruin another world. He didn’t want another life on his hands. The blood was already consuming him whole.
Getting up felt like an insurmountable challenge. He longed to remain sprawled on the cold, hard floor, just as he had been for days. The hunger gnawed at him like a relentless predator while an unsettling thirst clawed at his throat. He could barely recall the last time he forced himself to drink; anything he could scavenge from the dim alleyways was a temporary relief. His body, once defined and strong, was slowly losing its shape, succumbing to a lifeless, zombified state. For weeks, he had spiraled into despair, drowning in the depths of his own sorrow, until a flicker of determination finally ignited within him, breaking him free from the chains of his self-imposed exile.
That is what led to this. Peter slowly set the nanites on the floor, letting them adjust and seemingly prepare for something. He stared at the tiny particles, his mind foggy and distant. Weariness clung to him like a second skin, and in the dim light of the rundown apartment, he resembled a specter—pale and ethereal, with shadows cast deeply under his eyes. Cracked walls and peeling paint surrounded him, adding to the atmosphere of desolation and mirroring the exhaustion that weighed heavily on his shoulders.
“When you’re ready, Peter.” Karen’s voice echoed from the nanites in front of him.
After a moment, Peter nodded. He was reluctant to do this, but if he did, Karen would get off his back. Taking a deep breath, he started to speak.
“All right let's do this. I’m only saying this cause Karen thought it was a good idea to keep voice messages, like a journal. Apparently, Tony did them when I- Not the time—anyway. My name is Peter Parker. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for 6 years, I guess 11 if you count the blip, I used to be the one and only Spider-Man.”
He could feel the sweat starting to form in his palms the more he spoke.
“It’s been a few days in his new universe, and I’ve learned a lot. There are a bunch of heroes in this universe. They even have a group like the Justice League, which has a lot more manpower than the Avengers. Also there’s a lot more aliens here, which is cool. Hopefully, no one tries to lay eggs in me. There are many differences between this universe and mine, but I guess that's what happens when you have to go somewhere Peter Parker doesn’t exist.”
Looking away from the nanites in the shape of a cube on the floor, Peter’s voice almost died out after that last sentence. He took it all in. This was the most he had spoken in a while. It was nerve-racking.
“I thought I was saving a bunch of people. I mean, I did, but it doesn’t outweigh all I couldn’t. I was just a kid when Tony Stark, Ironman, took me under his wing. He saw the good I could do. Oh, how I proved him wrong.” Peter hung his head down, trying really hard to keep talking.
“I messed up again and again. Every time someone saw something in me, they lived to regret it or died before they could see it. I’m tired. Tired of Spiderman. This new world I’m in has enough people to protect it; they don’t need someone who got kicked out of their universe playing heroes here.”
Peter slowly picked up the nanites, “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but the mantel was too much.” He stared for a second before letting Karen end the video.
As the nanites slowly returned to being bands around his wrists, Karen said, “Peter, I’m proud of you.” Peter ignored the AI, staring at a new lump on his wrist.
“Peter.”
He didn’t realize just how draining it was to talk about himself. He wanted to throw up. Messing with the lump on his wrist, he was reminded of Peter 2, who had an identical one. This new universe was changing him, and it didn't feel good, either.
“My device is experiencing a critical deficit in its electrical reserves. To save data, I’ll be going inactive. Stay safe, Peter.”
Had it really been that long? Peter sat up slowly, his fingers gently brushing over the band that secured Karen. Her reserves could last up to weeks, had he cooped himself in this place for that long? He felt a sense of urgency; she needed electricity to recharge, and he couldn't shake the weight of that responsibility. She really waited until after he recorded that stupid journal to tell him. As he glanced around the unfamiliar space, a wave of concern washed over him. He realized it might be time for him to make a difficult decision and finally start taking his place in this new world.
He couldn’t lose the last thing he had of home.
Taking to the streets, Peter searched and navigated through Gotham to the best of his ability. He keeps his head down, and he can feel it when others look at him. He knows which people were carrying and who weren’t. It was weird that he just knew; it was another new development, he guessed.
Maybe while he’s out he can scope areas for a job. He knew finding a job wasn't easy. Most places were strict about who they hired, wary of everyone. It didn’t help that he was wearing the same clothes he had stolen weeks before. Maybe cooping himself in the building wasn’t the smartest idea. The more he walked, the more he could feel his body screaming at him; not eating well was taking its toll on him. His powers mean that he needs to eat more than other people; his fast metabolism is kicking his ass right now.
Even with his shut-in, Peter was glad he was smart enough to do as much research as he could in this new place. Gotham was the home of Batman and his sidekicks, including some villains as well. There are a lot of villains, actually. There were more heroes in this universe than in his old one.
Old one? It felt unnerving to think his home was not. Peter didn’t know if he was making any sense to himself anymore.
Peter's next stop is Gotham City Public Library. He remembered sneaking in on his first day in this world, and there, he could recharge Karen.
ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐
Bruce didn’t know what to make of the energy surge that had appeared weeks ago. Although another surge hadn’t occurred since, it was still putting him on edge. He was used to investigating with less information, yet this anomaly surged and then vanished out of nowhere. Just the stench of it was making him jittery at what was to come. He understood that this was Red Hood’s territory new player in Gotham’s crime scene that he needed to investigate. So far, Red Hood had been establishing a reputation among other villains in the area, but he hadn’t yet involved civilians in his schemes. However, the moment that changed, Bruce found himself glancing at the cases of suits in the Batcave. He would have to put a stop to this new power in Gotham. His eyes first settled on the Batman suit and then on a particular Robin costume. His commitment to cleaning up Crime Alley stared back at him—tattered and stained with blood and grime.
It's been a few years since Jason's grave was discovered to be empty. It haunted him to know someone had taken him. Changed him. He still couldn't find anything on it. If Hush had never come to town back then, he probably wouldn't have ever known.
He looked back at the location where the energy surge had originated and leaned back in his chair. He made preparations in case anything else occurred with the same frequency and energy, ensuring that the Batcomputer would alert him. If only the surge did not mess with the electronics in the area Bruce could have had a clear picture of what it was.
Shifting his research focus on something else. He typed up a file he has been updating for years, as if it were a routine task. His eyes glossed over the information before he stood up and walked away, leaving the computer to stare at his back, haunted by the words that followed the Batman everywhere he went.
Is Joker finally gone from Gotham?
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The Joker is Back!
Updated File: Jason Wayne Todd, Alive(?)_
˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚
First, Peter did not know how he ended up here, just that now he was here. He did not realize just how different Gotham was at night and got himself lost. He had originally walked up to the building to ask the security for directions, but they had asked if he was there for an interview.
He was not passing this up. He could take some more time getting Karen back up, especially if he could surprise the AI by having a job. That is how he got himself in The Iceberg Lounge.
The dimly lit atmosphere of the Lounge buzzed with quiet conversations and the soft clinking of glasses. Shadows danced along the walls as Peter Parker sat at a sleek, icy-blue table, nervously tapping his fingers on the polished surface. He glanced around, taking in the extravagant decor that seemed to echo the glimmering ice sculptures lining the bar. The air carried a hint of something sweet, mingling with the crisp scent of mint.
Peter couldn’t quite understand it, but he felt like his hearing had become sharper. The noise around him seemed unbearably loud, even though he had been to wilder parties before and managed fine. He had Tony to thank for that. Is this another change he was experiencing? He couldn't wait to update Karen on this. Hopefully, there is some information about others who have gone through similar changes that can help him adapt better.
When the security guard asked him if he was there for an interview, they pointed him inside, had him sit down, and said, "Lark will meet with you when she can." Lark? Peter realized he should have paid more attention to Gotham's people when Karen gave him a rundown. His palms started to sweat. Hopefully, he wasn't getting himself into anything bad. Again.
He listened to other people around him, trying to catch snippets of their conversations. A name that got thrown around a lot was the Penguin. Apparently, he was the owner, and people did not want to cross him. That's when he found out Lark was one of three women Penguin had as his right-hand woman (?). Of course, he found himself in the presence of one of Gotham's known villains.
Soon, Lark finally came over. She sat down and leaned back in her seat, studying Peter intently with her discerning eyes. She exuded confidence, and her sharp black outfit accentuated her poised demeanor. "So," She waited for him to give him his name.
“Peter.”
“Peter,” she began, her tone both inviting and challenging, "what can you tell me about yourself?"
Peter swallowed hard, trying to shake off his nerves. "Well, I just moved to Gotham recently," he replied, flashing a nervous smile. "I’m looking for a job, and I enjoy working with people." Wow, he was totally acing this. Smooth, Peter, just smooth.
Lark raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Enjoy working with people, huh? How do you handle a busy night at the bar? It can get quite chaotic around here."
“I've had my share of— interesting nights. Back in New York, I worked at a coffee shop, and those rush hours were always a test of speed and skill." He chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "I guess you could say I’m used to juggling multiple tasks at once." He really was just taking MJ’s credit with the whole coffee shop thing, thank goodness he listened to her rants about the ins and outs of that place.
The corners of Lark's lips curled into a smirk. "Interesting. So, what’s your experience with drinks? Can you whip up a mean cocktail, or?"
Peter's eyes widened slightly, and he was not prepared for this, I mean he has mixed drinks for him and Tony before... “Oh, I can mix drinks and also make a mean milkshake if that’s something on the menu here. I’ve tried my hand at a few cocktail recipes, but I’m not thoroughly trained. My friends say I have a knack for mixing flavors. I suppose it’s like chemistry, right? You combine the right elements and hope for the best.” The Avengers count as friends, right?
Lark nodded, seemingly impressed. “I like a guy who can appreciate the art of mixing drinks. We need someone who can engage with our clientele while keeping the drinks flowing. And” she leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “you’re not half bad to look at either.”
Peter felt a flush creep up his cheeks but managed to maintain his composure. “I’d love to help out here. The atmosphere is amazing,” he said, fiddling with his collar as if it were hot, in a place full of ice. “And I think I could fit right in.”
Lark’s expression brightened as she slid a small card across the table toward him. “Welcome to The Iceberg Lounge, Peter. You start tomorrow night,” she said, her tone indicating both approval and excitement. “Just remember, it’s not just about the drinks. it’s about knowing how to handle anyone who walks through those doors.”
“Just like that?” Peter called back. That felt easy—too easy—and she didn't even ask about paperwork or anything.
Lark chuckled as she waved him off, “Don’t get a lot of people trying to work for the Penguin these days.” As she disappeared, she left one last confirmation, “Enjoy your new employed life.”
That just confirmed it, The Penguin was definitely one of the villains Karen listed. He rested his head on the table, wondering what mess he had gotten himself into now. The pit in his stomach was starting to gnaw at him, and his senses were twitching. Not a good sign, Peter. That is not a good sign. There goes Karen being excited for him, she's going to lecture him when she hears about this.
+†+🪦+†+
Red Hood perched on the ledge of a rooftop, his intense gaze fixed on the glimmering façade of The Iceberg Lounge, the Penguin's infamous stronghold. He meticulously scrutinized the venue, acutely aware that his scheme to eliminate the Penguin and usurp his empire was drawing near.
After his first return to Gotham, he learned from his mistakes. He was enraged, speaking the words Talia had told him. May his plan with Hush have been the biggest in Gotham's history of villains teaming up, beautifully orchestrated. He never got to reveal that it was him, that he was alive, and that he wanted justice for his death. Yet the way Bruce fought him, how angry he became, thinking Clayface was ruining the image of his fallen soldier, caused him to change plans and take a step back.
Talia had definitely manipulated him again, had fucked his head before his mind was repaired. His memories of the past were still foggy for him, but from the key details Talia gave him, the look on Bruce's face didn’t add up. What he does know now is that Batman relied on a ruined system for far too long. Criminals walked every day from a system he hasn’t even tried to fix.
This time, he was going to do what Bruce couldn’t do: protect the little guys. He was going to clean up Crime Alley with a gun in his hand. He’ll use the contacts he made as Hush to take control. Maybe with his staking claim, one of these nut jobs would release the Joker again.
He was going to make a show of himself doing it. The dead Jason Todd coming back alive to kill Joker. Oh, he could taste the chaos that Bruce would have to clean up afterward. He was going to make the man watch as he did everything Joker did to him back. Show him everything that happened. But before that, Hood needed more ground. His standing was small, even with him taking all of Black Mask's lead drug dealers. He needed to make his name bigger, so the fallout was glorious.
Suddenly, his attention was captured by the tousled dark brown hair of a man walking out of the building, who was engaging in a rather awkward farewell with the bouncers stationed outside. A self-satisfied smirk dawned on Red Hood’s face, this unconventional method of gathering intelligence was proving to be quite effective. Get the scrawny worker to give him intel from the inside and bingo.
After completing his survey and familiarizing himself with most of the lounge's layout, Red Hood followed the man closely. He made sure to stay out of sight, but he couldn't help but notice that the man kept glancing around, even looking directly at the spot where Red Hood was hiding multiple times. This was becoming increasingly interesting.
When they reached the worst part of Crime Alley, Hood easily marked the location of the building the shorter man entered. He had expected someone coming out of Penguin's lair to live in a different area. He should consider a different approach. Red Hood tapped his gun thoughtfully against his thigh.
“Meta, huh?” He tilted his head, taking in the man's appearance and mannerisms. “Definitely something with that sense of his.” He grinned underneath his mask. “This could be fun.”
Before he could make his move, the sight of the Bat symbol in the sky stopped him. He staggered slightly, images pouring through his mind and past. His head burned in pain as he was reminded of all the symbol held. Quickly he pulled out a small handheld radio and tuned in on the police frequency.
“This is Officer Forbes, no eyes on the Bat, Fire still spreading to the east route, lost sightings on the assailant.”
“Acknowledge. Code 2, Reroute all cruisers to civilian evacuation then. We don’t have time to chase a dead end. This is a 904 in progress. Be advised hostiles could still be in the area, This is a 10-3 until further notice.”
“Ackno— “
“Code 8, 10-20 in Cathedral Square. On foot, multiple assailants. Bats on…” Static
Every last self-control he had was out the window. Letting out a growl, his mission changed, and he left the area, not noticing a set of Hazel eyes that watched as he went.