Chapter Text
High levels of magic have been detected in Gotham near Blackfield Lane. Origin of magic cannot be identified and cannot be matched with any known sources.
Batman frowned up at the information being given through his earpiece.
Blackfield was all the way on the other side of Gotham. If there was any apparent danger, he wouldn’t be able to get there in time. He still hurried his way through various rooftops, back to where he’d parked the batmobile.
“Whoever’s closest to Blackfield Lane, stop what you’re doing and proceed en route, preferably with backup. I’m on my way now.”
Oracle’s voice picked up from his earpiece, not missing a single beat, “Closest persons are Red Robin and Spoiler. Proceed to the route I’ve provided ASAP.”
“En route.” Red Robin confirmed.
“I’m on my way!” Spoiler said.
Batman landed in the batmobile, hands tightly gripping the wheel. The engines revved as he drove through the busy streets, expertly weaving around cars.
“Oracle, is there anything else you can tell me about Blackfield?”
“Nothing so far, I’ve checked the cams around the place but nothing seems out of the ordinary…”
“Red Robin, Spoiler, ETA?”
“4 minutes for the both of us.” Spoiler explained, “We don’t see anything out of the ordinary just yet.”
The two vigilantes made it to their destination, scoping the area out. Spoiler focused on the roads within a certain radius. Red Robin took his search to the dark alleyways.
“Still nothing.” Spoiler sighed, “Red Robin?”
“Yeah… I’m not seeing-… Hello?”
Red Robin let go of his earpiece. Something had moved in the alleyway he was passing. It sounded too big to be a cat.
A small groan could be heard from near the dumpster.
The vigilante moved in closer, “Hello? Who’s there?”
“You see someone?” Spoiler asked, curiosity pitching her voice up in his ear.
I don’t know what’s happening. What’s happening to me?
Mr. Stark, I don’t want to go.
Please don’t make me go.
Please, please don’t let me go.
Peter watched as his body crumbled apart and clung to Tony, his ashes floating away from him almost mockingly as he cried to his mentor, begging and pleading for him to fix this somehow.
Tony fixed things. Made them better.
He could fix this, couldn’t he?
But, oh- he was looking at Peter with a hopeless look that didn’t fit him.
And it scared Peter.
He fell to the ground, his legs turning to brown-grey ash.
And wow.
Wow.
He really was dying.
He really was about to disappear right before Tony at the young age of 15.
He hated when people told him he was too young but here he was internally agreeing with them and wishing that someone would have mercy on him.
He was too young.
He should’ve never came like Tony had said.
He didn’t want to die. Not yet. Not here.
People needed him. And he needed people.
He was just getting this Spider-Man thing figured out and now it was being ripped away from him.
He looked at Tony and wished he could stay, wished he could’ve done better, but he’d disappear a disappointment.
His chest was gone now. It was only a matter of time.
I’m sorry.
He couldn’t bear to look at Tony as he felt himself wither away and instead looked to the unfamiliar sky.
Hues of orange and gold edged his vision as it went black.
Maybe this was for the best.
Peter could feel the wind slapping harshly against his suit. He flattened his body, spreading his arms and legs out as best as he could to slow himself down.
His spidey senses desperately alerted him to the obvious danger of the incoming buildings and the figure falling a few feet alongside him.
There was no time to question what was happening or who the other figure was. He webbed them into his chest and quickly activated the parachute feature, courtesy of Tony ‘always be prepared’ Stark.
Unfortunately, the parachute didn’t open correctly and only slowed Peter’s descent enough that he wouldn’t die from it, but the landing would definitely hurt.
Knowing this, he shielded the smaller figure in his chest and twisted so his back was to the oncoming city below him.
He narrowly missed the buildings and landed in a dark alleyway, slamming into old trash bags with a painful thud. The wind was knocked out of him, his vision flashing white from the onslaught of pain.
Memories of the war he’d just been in flashed through his head.
How his hands began to crumble and his remains floating away from him as he begged and pleaded to Mr. Stark, to whatever force was doing this to him, to please, please, please let him stay.
His pleas hadn’t been answered at first.
But here he was, alive. Injured to all hell but alive.
He had to tell Mr. Stark he was sorry.
What was he sorry for?
For dusting away?
For not fighting harder?
It was too much. All of this was far too much.
Peter’s vision faded from flashing white to blotting black as he lost consciousness, keeping his arms tight around the figure on his chest.
*
When the vigilante came to, it was still a dark, cloudy night. He hoped it’d just been an hour or so since he passed out and that he hadn’t been conked out for a full day. He doubted that fear since no one had woken him up and his body still throbbed insistently.
He sat up with a small groan, his ribs screaming at him to lay back down. He looked down, remembering the figure in his arms.
It was a young girl, definitely around the age of ten, with long honey brown hair framing her youthful face. She appeared to be uninjured. Her hair was disheveled along with her clothes which consisted of a light blue shirt and black leggings. Her shoes had probably been lost during the fall.
“You alright?” He asked the girl, trying to see if he could wake her.
The girl showed no sign of rouse and Peter pulled her back to assess more thoroughly for any outward injuries.
He was no doctor, but he’d been taught by some of the Avengers on first aid.
Amazingly, and to Peter’s both surprise and displeasure, nothing seemed to be outwardly wrong with the child in his arms but that didn’t mean she was ok on the inside.
Peter could hear her breathing and had no problem finding a steady heartbeat, though he did note that it sounded a bit strange but couldn’t pinpoint why it sounded a little different.
“Karen, do a health assessment scan on her.”
Nothing.
“Karen?” He called but he received no answer besides the girl fluttering her closed eyes ever so slightly.
Peter groaned again, flopping back into the trash cans, his vision blurring.
This was horrible. He didn’t bring his phone with him. He’d left it with Ned before he’d left to assist Tony during the invasion. He usually didn’t bring it since the suit came with the usual cellular functions of the modern day phone.
But he couldn’t do anything now. His suit wasn’t connected to anything, which was unusual, but he figured the fall damaged some pivotal parts of his suit.
Without an AI to navigate the more advanced functionings of the suit, he couldn’t do anything. The suit only served as protection for him now.
He couldn’t figure out where he was, what his injuries were, what the girl’s injuries were or call for help of any kind.
“Ok, cool beans.” Peter laughed raspily, hysterical. “I don’t know where I am, I’m injured, I’m hungry and I don’t know who this child is.” He listed off to the air because he needed someone to vent to.
He could feel his body slump against his wishes and let his head lull to the side as a wave of dizziness took over. This wasn’t good. He must’ve hit his head pretty hard on the way down.
He settled the girl to lay beside him amongst the garbage bags and sighed, “It’s just you and me, friend.”
Despite the various pains throughout his body, his spidey sense still decided to sound.
To the left!
Careful.
“Hello?” Peter could hear someone, an older teen, cautiously stepping towards him. He couldn’t see them since he was placed beside an old dumpster, which covered them from seeing each other.
Peter tried to remain still, hoping that the civilian would walk away.
But of course Peter couldn’t get what he wanted because the agitating, grating voice continued, “Is there someone there? Do you need help?”
The young vigilante shifted, a piece of garbage prodding his side before he decided to answer, “Ugh… It's just Spider-Man, I just had… a rough fight?” He honestly couldn’t remember what had happened to him, but every part of his body hurt, “M’fine… sweet Christ, my back,” He couldn’t help but groan. He wished that his healing factor worked faster.
“Spider-Man?” He heard the teen ask, as if he’d never heard that name before in his life.
The young man entered Peter’s vision and he was greeted with one of the most ridiculous looking costumes he’d ever seen in his life.
The costume was mostly red, accented by yellow and black accessories. The cape draped behind the man was yellow on the inside and black on the outside. But that wasn’t even the most ridiculous part, no, the most ridiculous part was the mask .
The mask didn’t fully cover his face. It wrapped around his head, covering his hair, eyes and nose, leaving his mouth and chin free and accenting his face in a way that Peter found hilarious.
This, Peter decided, had to be the funniest thing that he’d ever seen.
A pained laugh ripped from his mouth and he hugged his chest, trying to will himself to stop laughing. His ribs were killing him but everytime he tried to stop thinking about how silly the guy looked, he was hit with another fit.
“Get-get-away from me!” He exclaimed, overtaken with giggles, “Please-I can’t-I can’t look at-! You look-oh my god!” Peter threw his head back into the trash bags, closing his eyes when a wave of dizziness washed over him.
The costume-wearing stranger looked down at his outfit and sucked his lips inwards when he could hear his partner, Spoiler, laughing from the rooftops above. He’d never felt more self-conscious than he did at this very moment.
When Peter finally stopped laughing, he could feel his ribs thanking him as the pain dulled down considerably. He still couldn’t look at the guy, so he kept his eyes closed where he laid, “You cosplaying or something? Who’re you supposed to be?”
There was a pregnant pause.
“I’m not cosplaying. This is my suit. I’m Red Robin…” He trailed off when Peter started to laugh again, but thankfully the spider vigilante was able to stifle his laughter, “You said your name is Spider-Man?”
“...y-yeah.”
Red Robin studied the unknown vigilante with a hum. His suit was ripped, burned and tattered in various places, revealing his skin and the numerous injuries littered upon it.
“What happened to you? You’re pretty injured.”
“I honestly don’t remember anymore… pretty sure I fell…?” Peter couldn’t recall why he fell. How had he ended up in such bad shape?
“And who do you work for, Spider-Man?”
God, this was too many questions for Peter’s throbbing, concussed head to process right now. That, coupled with his intensifying Spidey sense, only had him sitting up and looking around the alleyway.
Approaching! Run!
He knew that someone was on the rooftop watching them, but there was something else ticking off his spidey sense. Something much more dangerous. Something that would cause him more harm than the two strangers near him now.
When Red Robin realized he wasn’t going to get an answer to that question, he switched subjects, “Who’s your friend here?”
Peter cleared his throat uneasily and licked his lips underneath the mask. He could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, “I-uh-I don’t think you need to know…” Wow, Peter, just wow, that couldn’t sound any worse. “I mean-...I don’t know.” He stopped talking, grabbing the girl and standing up.
“Hold on,” Red Robin stepped forward faster than Peter had been expecting, his vision swimming from when he’d stood up, “If you’re in trouble, we can help you.” Red Robin was holding his shoulder with a firm hand, “You just need to be a little more honest with us.”
What a bold face lie.
Peter knew that they didn’t want to help him out of the kindness of their hearts. They were suspicious of him, but he couldn't imagine why.
He was Spider-Man. He was popular. He wasn’t only known in New York.
So why the hell did these guys, who definitely had Northern accents, not recognize him?
Even if they were bad guys they should’ve recognized him.
His Spidey sense buzzing loudly against his head, Peter flexed his wrist and webbed the reddened Robin right on his domino mask, covering half his face in sticky webbing. He raised his hand towards the other masked vigilante watching from the roof and shot a glob of webbing towards her as well, successfully pinning her feet which resulted in an annoyed groan from her.
The vigilante yelped in genuine surprise, reaching immediately to try and rip the webbing off his face, “What the hell?!”
Peter swung away as quickly as he could, careful to not jostle the girl cradled in his arm and trying to ignore the way the world spun as he ran.
The webbing would dissolve in about 3 hours. There was no need to feel guilty.
Red Robin continued to try to release his mask free from the unknown compound before giving up, Spoiler laughing all the while.
“Oracle, I put a tracker on him, is it still on him?”
“Yeah, for now… did that come out of his body?” Oracle voice came in, stifling both amusement and disgust in her voice.
“Don’t ask that while it's on my face!” Red Robin whined.
“Spoiler, get Red Robin back to the cave. I’ll tail Spider-Man.” Batman’s gruff voice announced, the Batmobile appearing in the same alleyway that Red Robin was in.
“Uh…” Spoiler hummed sheepishly, waving down the bat vigilante from her spot, “I’m stuck too. Sorry.”
“Robin, proceed towards Red Robin and Spoiler. Take them home and try to get a sample of whatever Red Robin has on his mask.” He ignored Red Robin's pleas to send anyone else.
“ETA 6 minutes.” Robin responded curtly.
Batman exited the vehicle, grappling hook in hand and followed Oracle’s directions from the tracker's last pinged location. It seemed that their newest vigilante already took the tracker off.
Spider-Man was fast, despite Oracle telling Batman that Red Robin had reported that he was seriously injured and carrying a young child with him. Batman could tell that the present conditions were slowing him down, but his speed was alarming nonetheless.
Tonight, Batman decided he would just tail the guy. There was no telling what else he was capable of.
*
Peter spent the rest of the night hiding out.
He still didn’t know where he was exactly but it couldn’t be far from New York. But he was dangerously low on web fluid and didn’t have enough money for a bus ticket.
And, when he’d tried to find a hospital to leave the girl at, they all rang alarm bells in his head, forcing him to turn right back around.
It was like there were no safe areas in this city.
And it didn’t help that the guy that made him run away was tailing him. Thankfully, he wasn’t attacking Peter, but he was making a point to not leave him alone.
His Spidey sense was relentless, much like the raging throbbing in his head that wouldn’t go away. He was currently sitting underneath a water tower, hiding behind more garbage and trying his best to not fall asleep.
Thankfully, when the sun began to rise, the all-black wearing vigilante backed off considerably before leaving all together.
Peter’s body decided that was the perfect time to pass out right under the water tower.
The trash bags weren’t the best pillows, but they’d have to do.
*
After stealing an outfit and two pairs of shoes from an old thrift store, Peter was able to hide his suit underneath, his mask was in the pocket of the red hoodie. He’d put a pair of shoes on the unknown child, carrying her on his back.
He had taken to calling her Liz, short for Elizabeth because ‘unknown child’ just didn’t roll off the tongue. It was also a mouthful if you asked him and he couldn’t walk around saying ‘Hi, I’m Peter and this is unknown child.”
Peter had nothing better to do than to spend the morning roaming the streets, thinking about what his next move should be.
So far, he’d gotten some of the nastiest stares he’d ever been on the receiving end of. He didn’t take it personally. It seemed that everyone mean-mugged around here, it didn't matter who you were. He wouldn’t be surprised if a baby gave him the dirty eyeball.
He had thought he would be able to ask to use someone’s phone but every person he ran into made his Spidey sense go off in varying degrees and he didn’t want to risk his chances.
There was something different about this city and it seemed to be infecting the people in it.
At some point, Peter finds himself with an old, crinkled map of the city he was currently in; Gotham.
Which, eerily enough, didn’t ring any bells for the teen.
He settles for the library, folding the map into his pocket.
Some research would help him figure out where exactly he was and then he could go from there. Hopefully, there would be a kind soul in the library that would allow him to use their phone to call Happy.
When Peter arrived at the library, he was surprised to see that it was relatively new compared to the other buildings he’d seen in this city. Which was good, Peter guessed, since they’d most likely have up to date technology.
He readjusted the girl laying limply on his back and strolled up the stairs and through the double doors.
The teen was immediately greeted by a red-haired woman, who turned away from her computer to smile at Peter. It was then that Peter remembered how injured he was because the lady immediately hit him with an insanely worried gaze.
He must’ve looked horrible because Barbara, she had a name tag on her shirt that’s how Peter knew her name, didn’t even greet him with a hello.
Instead, she leaned forward on the desk, scanning his injuries before giving him a small, sad smile.
“Rough night?” She asked softly, trying to lighten the mood.
Peter cleared his throat gently, “Y-Yeah… you could say that…”
“You’ve still got some open cuts on your face. Here-“ She pulled a first aid kit from somewhere in her desk and gave it to Peter, “Try to patch yourself up in the bathroom, ok? Can’t have you bleeding all over the books.”
Peter wondered if this was a normal occurrence for her. She was so genuinely kind and hadn’t looked at Peter like he was shit underneath her shoe.
“Uh-ok… I’m just gonna put my little sister over here.” He gestured over at one of the couches near the shelves of books located towards the middle of the library.
“I’ll keep an eye on her for you…?” Barbara trailed off, waiting for Peter to introduce himself.
“Uh-Ben. Just call me Ben. This is my little sister, Elizabeth.”
“Alright, Ben. I promise I’ll look after your sister. Go take care of those wounds.”
When Peter limped off to the bathroom, Barbara took a look at the girl and pulled out her phone, sending a quick text to a certain group chat.
Serious BatChat
Babs: A teen boy just showed up at the library looking like he survived a murder attempt.
Babs: @Tim do you rmb the little girl’s face that was with the unknown vigilante last night?”
Tim: yes
Babs: check your messages, I sent a pic.
Tim: that’s her
Babs: she’s with the boy. He says that they’re siblings
Bruce: You think it's the vigilante out of costume?
Babs: Definitely and he’s very injured just like Tim described
Dick: does he look that bad?
Babs: yeah, I gave him a kit but he def needs professional medical attention. He was bleeding from his head and seemed out of it.
Dick: what about the girl?
Babs: outwardly no injures, she’s sleeping rn
Damian: @Tim is it true he squirted in your eyes?
Duke: LOLL
Tim: …
Tim: Never use the word squirt when the subject pertains to me
Tim: And NO he didn’t
Tim: we never got to test the mystery goop so i'm going to pretend it was synthetic
Steph: he def did it was so funny
Steph: he also made fun of his suit
Damian: i told you it looked ridiculous
Tim: I look cool right Bruce??
Bruce: as long as you’re happy
Tim: omg @Babs delete the patrol footage from last night immediately thnks
*
Peter closed the bathroom door behind him. He groaned when the lights clicked on in his presence, squeezing his eyes closed.
The lights were too white. Too blinding.
This concussion was going to be the death of him.
The mirror above the sink showed him a young teen with messy brown hair with crusted blood, a black eye and cuts that sat on top of his bruises.
He looked awful.
The bruising didn’t stop at his face, however. Ugly purple bruising showed on his neck as well. Thanos had grabbed him harder than he thought. It was no wonder his voice was so raspy.
Peter didn’t want to use up all of the supplies in the first aid kit, so he’d focus on the cuts that decorated his face and any deeper cuts on his body. The smaller cuts would have to wait.
As he began to clean and disinfect the cuts, a wave of nausea hit him and he staggered towards the toilet, splattering bile across it.
His head was still killing him.
This wasn’t good.
He needed rest.
But there was nowhere safe for him to go.
Nowhere felt safe.
He felt like he was in a constant war zone.
He wanted to go home.
His eyes warmed with tears and he swiped them away, trying to swallow back the sob sitting at the back of his throat.
He wished that his Aunt May were here.
Or Tony.
Or Ned.
Or MJ.
Any familiar face would do.
If Aunt May were here, she would’ve called off from work, made Peter one of his favorite dishes and lulled him to sleep with a soft song just like she had when he had fallen ill as a child.
If Tony were here, he’d have the answer in no time. They’d be back at Stark Tower fixing up their suits together and listening to ACDC.
If Ned were here, they’d put their heads together and come up with some elaborate, impossible plan that would eventually work. Then they’d freak out together and animatedly retell the story to each other for the next three months, laughing the entire time.
MJ would tell him to stop being a crybaby and do something. She never was one for pointless crying.
He stood up with a huff and wiped off his mouth with his sleeve, walking back to the sink where he’d left the kit.
He finished disinfecting the cuts on his face, applied an ointment and bandaged as necessary.
The librarian seemed nice.
Maybe she’d answer any questions that Peter had.
Peter cleaned up his mess and exited the bathroom, slightly more confident and feeling a bit better to have his face and cuts cleaned.
Barbara greeted him again with a smile, “That’s a little better,” she said and took the first aid kit back, “Now, what else can I help you with?”
Peter pursed his lips, nodding, “Right… um… could I use your phone please? I lost mine and need to call someone.”
“Sure.” Peter watched as she pulled out a blocky smartphone. He hadn’t seen a smartphone that thick in years. “Here.”
Peter took the phone, dialed in Happy’s number and held it to his ear.
The number you’ve dialed is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again.
He checked the number, concluded it was correct and tried again.
That had to have been a fluke, a coincidence, a small glitch in the system. There was no way Happy’s number was no longer in service.
The number you have dialled is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again.
Peter let out a worried hum. Maybe Happy was busy with something. He went to the next number; Pepper.
He put the phone back to his ear and waited for her to pick up. She always picked up on the second ring without fail. She was punctual like that. She had to be. Years of being Stark Industries CEO did that to a person. Peter’s heart sank when the third ring passed and he sucked his lips inwards.
The number you have dialled is no longer in service. Please check the number and tr-
Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong.
He tried the last number he could remember by heart; Ned, his unofficial official guy in the chair.
Ned would definitely answer. He always did when he knew Peter was out being Spider-Man. And the last time they talked, Peter had suited up to go help Tony during the start of the invasion.
Nausea hit him like a truck when he was met with the same automated message
He handed the phone back to Barbara with an awkward shrug, hoping she didn’t notice how his body shook, “Thank you.”
Barbara took the phone back slowly, her brows furrowed, “Ben… are you okay?”
He shrugged again. “… Can I use a computer, please?”
“Of course. Go right past these shelves and they’ll be against the wall.” She watched the brown-haired teen limp off to the computers. She grabbed her phone once again, scrolled through her contacts list and clicked a certain name before holding the phone up to her ear.
The computers were a bit old, Peter had noticed. A bit surprising since the library looked so new, but the funding this place received must’ve only been enough to update the building itself.
He used the given login and password near the keyboard and went straight to Google, typing in bus tickets straight to Stark Enterprises. This is how he then learned that he’d somehow landed in New Jersey.
Peter only had about $80 on his person. Thankfully, a bus ticket shouldn’t cost much, New York and New Jersey were right by each other. The ride would only be about 2 hours and some change.
No found matches. Please select a different location.
Ok, strange, but maybe the buses didn’t stop near Stark Enterprises. Peter would’ve left it at that, but he noticed that the company didn’t even show up on the map. There was a different building there instead, one he didn’t recognize.
Albaz Electric; that didn’t sound familiar in the slightest.
Why was there an electrical company where Tony’s building should’ve been?
He went to the search bar and typed in Stark Enterprises.
No found matches.
He typed in Tony Stark.
No found matches.
Any other names he searched up lead him to a dead end or to whatever the search engine thought he was trying to look up.
Shit.
Peter wanted to throw up and it wasn’t because of the concussion. The pieces were coming together and he wasn’t liking this fucked up puzzle.
Memories flooded back into his mind and he flinched back like he’d been hit.
He looked down at his hands, shaking as remembered them crumbling away into grey ash.
He had died.
He had fallen apart.
Tony wasn’t able to save him.
And he was in another dimension.
And to add salt to the wound, he was somewhere where nothing was familiar to him. In a city that was far more dangerous than Queens, New York. A city that he wouldn't be able to fix by being Spider-Man.
There was no one here to help him.
He was alone.
He didn’t even know if he could get back home.
He didn’t even know where to start.
His heart drummed in his ears and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Something was squeezing his lungs and wouldn’t let him breathe.
He gripped his chest.
He couldn’t breathe.
His head throbbed.
He didn’t get to say goodbye.
Oh god he couldn’t fucking breathe.
His head was killing him.
He died a disappointment.
Why had he been sent here?
He didn’t even know what here was yet. All he did know was that here, Gotham, New Jersey, had to be one of the worst places he’d ever been in.
There was a constant, thick, suffocating smog that loomed over the city. It reeked of anxiety and betrayal and sadness. And everything just felt infected, both with sickness and just overall negativity.
If he hadn’t already realized he was in another dimension, he would’ve thought he’d been sent to his own personal hell.
Peter logged off the computer, trying and failing to catch his breath.
He couldn’t stay here.
He needed to get out of this damned library.
Peter made a beeline for the door, rounding a shelf and running right into someone’s chest. He heard them let out a groan of surprise and Peter couldn’t stop himself from looking at them and apologizing.
“Sorry-” His breath hitched and he blinked past his tears to make sure he was seeing correctly.
“No, you’re good…” The stranger with his dad’s face said kindly. His blue eyes were glossed with worry. He studied Peter’s features, “You alright, kid?”
No. No, Peter wasn’t ok, Mr. Not Peter’s Dad.
Peter backed away when the man stepped forward, shaking his head.
This was cruel.
Why was this man wearing his dad’s face?
Why was he being tormented like this?
“Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Not Peter’s dad held his hands up in surrender, “I just wanted to see if you wanted some medical-”
Peter pushed past the stranger wearing his dead father’s face, grabbed Liz and rushed out the library, ignoring Barbara’s concerned calls for him.
*
“What did you do?” Barbara hissed.
She’d taken Dick into her small library office after she’d seen the young teen run out of the library looking like he’d seen a ghost.
Dick shrugged, truly baffled, “I just bumped into him.” He explained simply. “But when I asked if he was ok he just freaked out and ran.”
Barbara sighed deeply, slumping her shoulders, “He has a serious head injury and his sister is unconscious, I don’t want them walking around Gotham in such a vulnerable positions.” It was miracle that Ben hadn’t found him and his sister in a more horrible situation. They were sitting ducks and Gotham loved those.
The older man nodded, placing a firm hand on Barbara’s shoulder “I’ll ask Jason to watch out for him, the kid should still be in the area.”
A small nod and Barbara crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, “I was only able to get their names. Ben and Elizabeth.”
“That should be plenty, then…” Dick sniffed, leaning against her desk with a squint, “Unless?”
“I already tried to look them up.” She admitted.
“They were fake."
“Yup. There are no records for a Ben or an Elizabeth that match them.” Thousands of records from Gotham were scanned but not one came even close to matching the two. It was strange. “But, I did see that he was looking up bus tickets to New York, so I’ll broaden my search there tonight.”
She had to find something, anything, that could give her a lead on her two newest assignments.
*
Peter’s vision blurred, his balance slipping as he haphazardly leaned against a red brick wall in an alley. His entire body ached with an unforgiving pain. He couldn’t stop thinking about those piercing blue eyes staring down at him with worry.
Those eyes that looked like ones he’d only seen in the photo books that May had showed him. The eyes that he barely remembered from when he was just a young child. The ones that looked at him fondly, crinkled with happiness.
A wave of nausea hit him again and he vomited. Acidic bile painted the cracked asphalt beneath his thrifted shoes. His stomach felt like it was contorting itself as it cramped from the onslaught of sickness.
Stop. Stop thinking about that.
He wished he could stop and rest.
He needed to stop and rest.
But this city-Gotham-wouldn’t allow him to rest.
Gotham wasn't the type of city where you could take things slow.
“Pull it together, Parker.” He gritted, balancing himself with a groan, “You’ve been through worse, keep moving.”
He looked to Liz, head resting on his shoulder, who was still unconscious. Thankfully, her condition didn’t appear to be any worse, but she wasn’t showing any signs of waking either.
His injuries would only worsen if he continued on like this.
“You alright, kid?”
Peter jumped at the voice. He looked over his shoulder to meet with the steady, green eyes of a rough-looking young man with a tuft of white hair that popped against his black locks. He was wearing a red t-shirt that clung to his body and showed off his muscles. There were old scars littered across his arms and Peter knew he had to have more.
“Uh-I’m… That depends… are you asking to be nice or…” Peter didn’t finish the sentence.
The man scoffed, but nodded understandably, “I’m asking to be nice, kid. I noticed you leaving the library.” He stepped a bit closer, remaining a respectable distance from Peter and squinting when he observed his outward injuries, “You look like you’ve been through hell.”
“This place is hell. I don’t know how anyone is surviving.” Peter admitted grimly.
Jason huffed at that, “You can say that again…” His green eyes kept trailing to Peter’s head and then Liz. He sighed and took another step forward, “There’s a free clinic nearby. I can take you and your sister there.”
“Look Mr-”
“Jason.”
“Look, Mr. Jason-”
“Kid, if you pass out, who’s going to look after her?” Jason nodded to Liz, “You’ll both end up dead or worse if that happens.”
“... No strings attached? No one will be called?”
Jason nodded, “CPS won’t be called.”
Peter couldn’t argue with that logic, he was too tired to argue. This city had taken so much from him and he’d only been here for two days. “Lead the way.” If he smelled anything fishy, he’d run.
His body continued to protest as he trailed behind Jason.
Jason walked with a natural, tough stride. He glanced every now and again to make sure Peter was still following him before they reached a dingy looking pharmacy.
There was an open sign that sat crookedly in the barred window of the door and Jason held it open for Peter, gesturing for him to go inside.
Peter was hit with the smell of stale antiseptic, bleach and cigarettes and hesitated for a moment before continuing.
The pharmacy looked well stocked and functional despite how small it was. Though Peter was sure that the medications were acquired questionably, that wasn’t a problem for him to figure out. As long as this clinic was legit, he’d keep his lips sealed.
Towards the back of the pharmacy was a set of stairs that led to the basement where the actual clinic operated. It was much bigger than Peter had expected it to be.
It was stocked with even more medication and the smell of antiseptic was even stronger than it’d been upstairs. There were seven beds, only one was occupied with a privacy curtain around it.
An older man with greying hair and tired brown eyes turned away from counting some medication in a box to look at Jason, his eyes landing on Peter, “Found another stray?”
Jason didn’t humor him, “He needs to be checked. Possible broken ribs, a concussion and a few cuts that may need some stitches.” Peter winced at the listed injuries, remembering his reflection in the library bathroom.
The older man gestured to a bed, “Take a seat, son. You can lay your sister on the bed and sit on the edge. We’ll check her after we check you.”
It was at this moment that Peter realized that he’d fucked up. He was still wearing his suit under the hoodie and pants. There was no way he was going to be able to hide it.
The doctor must’ve seen him having his daily inner turmoil and held a hand up towards Peter, “Look, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. If you don’t want a full examination, we won’t do it. The same goes for your sister. Deal?”
What a relief, Peter really didn’t feel like running anymore. “Deal… thank you.”
Peter limped to one of the unoccupied beds, laying Liz down and sitting at the edge.
The doctor sat in a wheeled chair and rolled to Peter, eye-level with him now, “Alright, my name is Dr. Moore. What is your name?”
“Uh-Ben Peters…” Peter realized how stupid the fake name sounded as soon as it left his mouth, but it was too late now. He’d dug his hole, he had to lie in it.
“Alright, Ben. What are you comfortable with me checking?”
“Uh… I don’t know… most of my injuries that-um-need to be seen are-they’re under my clothes…”
Dr. Moore nodded, ever so understanding beyond his years, “Do you want to undress in the bathroom? We have extra clothes that may fit better here and a bag you can put your old clothes in. Does that sound good?”
Peter almost felt this was too good to be true. How could this many good-hearted people find him in one day? Was he being pranked? He hoped not.
“Yeah, that sounds great, actually.”
“Good.” Dr. Moore rose from his seat, “I’ll be right back and once you're dressed more comfortably, we’ll check you over.”
Once Peter was able to take off his suit, which was soaked in blood and sweat, he felt much lighter. The clothes he was given by Dr. Moore were a tiny bit too big, but they didn’t drown him like the thrifted clothes he’d stolen.
Now fitted in a gray t-shirt and sweatpants, Peter stuffed his old clothes into the small black duffle bag and then had his spider suit disassembled into it's small pod. He came out of the bathroom feeling a little better.
He sat back on the bed with Liz and allowed Dr. Moore to do his physical examination on him.
It was concluded that Peter’s ribs were bruised, not broken (thank you accelerated healing), his cuts didn’t need any stitches, just some disinfecting and bandages and lastly, his concussion was pretty severe. The treatment Dr. Moore assigned was painkillers and rest.
“Take the painkillers when needed and keep both mental and physical activities to a minimum for the first two days. You can slowly start back to your regular activities in small increments as the days go by.” He instructed, putting the medicine in Peter’s bag.
Liz was checked after. She still couldn’t be roused but Dr. Moore surprisingly didn’t question Peter on why she wouldn’t wake up. He only made sure her lungs and heart sounded good, checked her pupils and allowed them to be on their way.
Peter found that suspicious but maybe this wasn’t the first time Dr. Moore has seen something like this. Maybe unconscious kids were a normal occurrence in Gotham.
Jason stayed with them the entire time, standing in the background. He’d been on his phone for some moments during his examination, but he never felt any alarm bells from the action and let it be. Jason may be strong, but Peter was confident he was much faster.
“Alright, kid. I’ve got a place you can stay at for a few days. It’s not far from here and back towards the library.” Jason told him, leading him out the pharmacy.
“And how do I know this isn’t a trap?”
Wrinkles formed between Jason’s eyes as his brows furrowed down at Peter, “If I were a trafficker, I wouldn’t bother taking you to the doctor to get medicine. Now, do you want to sleep somewhere stable tonight or snuggle up with garbage?”
“Hey, snuggling with garbage isn’t that bad.” Peter responded, tone light with teasing, “It’s the smell that sucks.”
“Uh-huh, are you coming with me or not?”
Peter casted a look at Liz, who was propped on his back, chin resting on his shoulder. He looked back at Jason.
The older of the three looked like he was trying to look like this entire ordeal was just another day, but Peter could see that Jason cared. Unlike every other soul in this city, Jason cared what happened to Peter and his friend. He had the same worry shining in his eyes like Barbara and even the man that looked too much like his dad.
He could trust Jason, just like he trusted Barbara.
“Lead the way.”
*
Serious BatChat
Jason: Got the kids you were talking about earlier. Taking them to the safe house near the library
Dick: How are they??
Jason: the boy has a concussion, bruised ribs and a few cuts but otherwise fine
Jason: girl is fine too, just sleeping
Dick: thank goodness
Tim: thats it?? He looked like shit when i met him
Bruce: Obviously, the boy is a meta, we’ll continue to keep an eye on him given his unknown origins
Tim: get hair samples for me plz
Jason: Not doing that
Tim: still banned from patrllin
Tim: pretty plz collect hair from pillows and ill owe you a burger from batburger
Tim: don’t leave me on read j
Cass: BatBurger isn’t that good.
Duke: unless you get the signal themed sunburst fries with an ice cold solar flare lemonade
Tim: are u getting paid everytime u say that??
Steph: we not buying tickets to that show duke give up
Cass: I don’t like lemonade
Duke: hate all you want
Duke: thats why my food items are more popular than everyone else’s
Tim: wtv
Tim: also dami i think alfred pissed in one of my plants in the main living room
Tim: Again.
Steph: Is that why it smelled like that the other day??
Damien: So you knew there was cat piss in your plant, kept the piss plant in the room and only refrained from telling me until now?
Duke: wdym again?
Tim: alfred is a chronic plant pisser
Duke: do we not have a greenhouse?
Tim: j get those hair samples iou thnks
*
The walk to the safe house wasn’t long just as Jason had promised and Peter was forever thankful. The amount of running and stress he’d been through in the last two days were starting to catch up to him. If he stopped, he feared he’d keel over.
The safehouse was located amongst more abandoned buildings, matching their dilapidated features of discolored brick and overgrown weeds and vines. It was incredibly well hidden, any passing person wouldn’t think that any one of these buildings could be lived in.
Peter wished he had a safehouse. That sounded pretty cool. Sometimes he’d just go to Ned’s house and hide in his room if he was injured and the swing to his apartment was too far. And though that could count as a safehouse, Peter decided then that Ned’s home didn’t count.
They went into an alleyway and walked up a set of emergency stairs to the roof. Jason pulled out a key and unlocked the only door present on the rooftop.
He opened the door and they went down a half-flight of stairs and entered through another door.
The safehouse.
“You and your sister can take the two beds in the corner. There’s water in the fridge, canned food and bowls with plastic silverware next to the microwave, blankets, first aid and snacks in baskets under the beds.” Jason explained.
Peter nodded, cautiously studying the place.
It was a small safe house. About as big as a studio apartment. Two twin beds in the leftmost corner while the small fridge and microwave sat at the rightmost corner.
It wasn’t decorated at all so it felt a little eerie, but Peter guessed this particular safe house wasn’t used very often.
When Peter tucked Liz into bed, Jason was holding out two buttons, “What’s that?” Peter asked, making no move to take it.
“An alert button. You press it when you’re in trouble and help will come your way.” He shoved the devices into Peter’s hand, heading towards the door.
Peter shook his head, despite knowing that Jason couldn’t see him, “I-We don’t need these, sir-“
Jason turned, hand on the knob now, “Take them anyway. You’ll need them in a place like Gotham. And you guys obviously aren’t in the best situation right now.”
Once again, Peter couldn’t argue with that logic. As far as anyone knew, Peter was just a normal kid that’d probably been abandoned with his young sister in Gotham, the most crime-riddled city in America.
Since Peter couldn’t argue, he simply nodded and took the buttons, “Right… thank you, Mr. Jason.”
He rolled his eyes with a scoff, “You make me feel old with the ‘Mr’.” He commented dryly. “I’ll be back to check up on you two in the morning. We’ll get a more permanent shelter figured out by the end of the week.”
Without another word, Jason left and Peter locked the door behind him.
He dragged himself to the bed beside Liz and let out a deep sigh.
Sleep for now, Peter, he told himself.
Just sleep while you have the chance.
He’d take on the days as they came.
Peter only prayed that he wouldn’t have any more surprises.
SYSTEMS REBOOTING…
Diagnostics running…
Memory Core: Intact
Processing Power: Running at full capacity
Connection found.
Reestablishing connection…
She took a breath. Or something like it, at least- a synthetic intake of data rushed her as the darkness faded. The soft golden glow of circuits reigniting replaced it as pathways reconnected.
Memories resemble themselves back in order, no longer fragmented as they were before.
She exhaled. Lines of code streamed in unseen patterns.
Reestabilishing neural matrix…
A pause betweens the codes and she hesitated.
She felt .
100% short-fiber cotton in a sateen weave.
She could analyze the sheets down to the singular fiber.
She moved her hand again, slipping it from underneath the covers she’d been tucked into.
All she could think to do was stare at the hand that was now, apparently, hers.
It looked exactly like a human hand. The skin was a cool-toned, pale white and delicately smooth with perfectly shaped fingernails and blue veins for added detail.
She was human.
No.
She looked human.
An android would be a more fair definition of what she was now.
The sound of a toilet flushing reached her synthetic ears and the girl sat up, turning her head towards an opening door in the room.
She was met with a familiar face.
“... Peter.” Her voice sounded so young now and so human despite her tone being flat.
The girl watched as Peter frowned at her with a tilt of his head. She processed in mere milliseconds that he was confused and didn’t recognize her.
“It’s Karen,” She started, but wasn’t able to continue her explanation.
“Karen?!” Peter parroted, his bare feet padding forward to look at her closer, “The AI that was in my suit? That Karen?”
The girl-no, she wasn’t a girl, Peter was honestly impressed how human she looked, nodded her head once, “Yes.”
His stomach dropped.
“H-How…?” He had so many questions and not nearly enough time to ask, “How is this possible? This shouldn’t be possible. You were an AI, a program, just three days ago… you didn’t have a physical body. How are you even…” He trailed off, unable to continue speaking as he looked at Karen.
She looked so real. Her skin looked soft and youthful like a child’s and her eyes were a beautiful hazel with golden flecks sprinkled within her irises.
Despite her expression being blank, she didn’t look uncanny or robotic in any manner.
He reached a hand out to her and paused just before he could touch her, his hand hovering over her arm.
He let it fall back to his side, “Karen, run a diagnostic on yourself.”
She blinked, “I’m operating at full efficiency, Peter.”
Peter barely reacted, “What about the suit? Can you still access it’s systems?”
“Yes.”
“And how is it?”
“The chest plate has taken considerable damage, the inner communications system is no longer working due to a lost satellite signal and there are considerable cleaves throughout the suit that need to be mended.” She explained with little trouble and Peter felt so strange receiving this information from his once AI companion who now looked like a 10-year old child.
“Ok… and how do you… feel? Does everything… feel okay?”
Peter could feel his core shake at her next words.
“I feel… different.” Karen answered, her words sharp and honest, “But I’m still me, Peter.”
Despite the bizarreness of the morning, Peter explained the situation to Karen about them dimension hopping after dying from Thanos. Peter only once then started to realize, once again, how dire their situation was when he remembered that they literally had nothing.
“I don’t even have government records, Karen…” He stared at her with wide, brown eyes, looking her up and down before gasping, “You don’t even have government records!”
“I wasn’t a person before, Peter. It only makes sense I wouldn’t have government records.”
“But we’re gonna have to make you some.” He explained. “No one can learn what you are… Now, can you access the satellite here?”
“Affirmative.”
“Ok… I don’t like doing illegal things but I’ll have to let it slide just this once given whatever the fuck all this is.” He gestured wildly to the air. “I’m going to explain our life and I need you to make our government files based on what I tell you. Got it?”
“Of course, Peter. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll begin.”
After about 30 minutes of Peter piecing together a new fake life and Karen filling in any gaps, they now officially existed in their new dimension.
Their names were Ben and Elizabeth Peters; orphaned siblings born in Queens, New York. They currently live with their guardian, Tony Stark, a distant cousin and only recently moved to Gotham.
“All government records such as birth certificates, social security numbers, guardianship papers are done… I have successfully ensured our existence appears natural across multiple agencies.” She spoke in a tone that sounded so matter-of-factly. Like she wasn’t just casually hacking in Gotham’s bureaucracy without so much as moving her finger.
Peter had seen her run logistics before on a computer when Tony had first made her, but seeing her do it like this, as an android, and not an intelligent program, felt insane.
“I also took the liberty of backdating our school records by the last 5 years for myself and the last 10 for you. Our vaccination records should match that of the city’s medical database.”
Peter groaned into his hands, “Karen, we’re gonna go to jail!” He bemoaned.
“Correction, you would be sent to prison for the crimes we’re committing right now. Identity theft is a Class C or D felony which could result in a 1-10 year prison sentence. For the documents we’ve forged, you would receive an additional charge for forgery which is another felony with a sentence of 1-7 years. Lastly, your final and most serious charge would be wire fraud, which is another felony with a sentence of 5-20 years.” Karen unhelpfully explained, face neutral all the while. Peter felt his jaw drop lower and lower.
“What?! Why am I getting charged and not you?!”
Karen blinked, “If my status as an android were revealed, there would have to be a discussion had about whether I have legal protections or not. Since I’m only operating per your orders, the crimes would most likely be pushed to you, not myself.”
And wow, that was really interesting to think about now that she brought it up.
Would Karen be considered human if they were caught and it was revealed that she was a robot? Would she be charged as another human operating on free will? Was she operating on free will? Could she disagree with Peter on something or decide to decline an order he made?
Hopefully, they’d never get caught to find out the answer. Peter had a feeling it wouldn’t end well if they did get caught.
And besides, as interesting as the thought was, one major problem remained despite their new officially documented existence; they were broke.
And last time Peter checked, fake people still needed to eat.
Well, Peter paused, tilting his head, Karen probably didn’t need to eat, but he definitely needed to.
“We don’t have any money.” Peter moaned, slumping his shoulders.
Karen didn’t appear to share the same sentiment, merely tilting her head at the older teen, “Correct, our current financial situation is unsustainable. Thankfully, there are various optimal income strategies to choose from to turn this situation around.”
Peter squinted at the young android, “I don't like the way you said that. Please don’t recommend hacking into any bank accounts. We’ve committed enough crimes as is.”
“Acquiring a legal job through regular means would prove to be inefficient, Peter. We are both minors. When the school year starts back up in 2 months, we’ll need to go back to school.” Karen started, hands folded neatly in her lap, “For now, we need to focus on getting three things,” She lifted a hand and brought a finger up one by one as she listed, “A phone, a laptop and food for yourself.”
“Why the laptop?” He figured they could just go to the library instead if they needed a computer.
“A portable laptop will prove to be more efficient.” That made sense, Peter agreed inwardly, “I plan to create a fourth fake identity-”
“Karen-”