A Spider in Gotham v2 - Chapter 1

Peter watched as the world around him changed. Ned and MJ disappeared, Strange had sent them to safety as part of the spell. A golden glow surrounded them both. He raised his hand in a wave.  The world seemed darker without them around. He cocked his head to the side. That wasn't it. The world was actually darker. He noticed a spark from one of the various broken bits of machinery slowly arch through the air.

He turned back to find Strange still floating in the air before him. The former Sorcerer Supreme stared off into nothingness. His head blurred in tiny movements before he finally stopped and set his eyes on Peter. The man squinted at him, clearly not recognizing who Spider-Man under the mask.

Peter pulled his mask on to make it easier for Strange. A flash of realization crossed along his face. The handsome features scrunched into regret as he floated down to stand in front of Peter.

"Spider-Man," he said softly. "The spell has already taken effect. I know I did something, but the details aren't there."

Peter started to speak only to be cut off when Strange held up a hand.

"Don't explain," Stephen said curtly. "Prior to the spell, I started to look through various futures. I wasn't sure why until just this moment."

"Ok," Peter nodded waiting for more.

"You can't stay here," Strange said resting a hand on Peter's shoulder. "The spell is holding our dimension together and it rests solely on you to remain. It will weaken once people start to remember you."

"That's why you didn't want me to explain," Peter nodded. "I could leave the city. There are plenty of places that could use Spider-Man."

"It won't work," Strange said, his tone firm. "It might buy a few years, but it would be like plugging a hole in a dam with bubblegum."

"Space?" Peter pointed to the sky.

Strange shook his head. Peter tried to think of something else. His body tensed as he realized what Strange was implying. Neither Peter Parker nor Spider-Man could exist in this world. Not just Earth, this dimension.

"I'm not going to kill you," Strange scoffed. "We just have to remove you from this reality."

That would have sounded absolutely impossible a week ago. Strange could send him to another world. A dimension where simply existing wouldn't tear apart the fabric of reality. May was dead, Ned and MJ didn't know who he was, and Peter Parker no longer existed. Would it be so different to start over in another world? He had already not existed after the Snap. At least this time it would be by choice.

"Do it," Peter said firmly.

"You're a hero, Spider-Man," Strange smiled softly at him. "This new world will be lucky to have you."

The comforting words rang hollow as Strange opened a portal and motioned for him to step through. Peter nodded. He couldn't do anything else. His body was sore, the last few days had drained his emotions, and this was just another kick while he was already down.

He said a silent goodbye to his life and stepped through the portal.

~§~

Peter found himself standing on the rooftop of a brownstone that was one of many in a row. It stretched on until the end of the block with a few breaks that marked the location of alleys. The sky was spotted with satellites and the occasional plane. He recognized the glow that a city gave off at night. For a moment he stood and took in this new world. He could breath the air just fine, there was only one moon in the sky, and the people he could see on the street below were human. Strange wouldn't have sent him to an inhospitable world. It was just something to focus on other than the fact that he had just left not only his life behind, but his entire world.

A deep, burning rage overpowered the sorrow that held his heart. He had gone through so much to the world, to the city, and now it was all for nothing. Peter grit his teeth and forced his train of thought back to the matter at hand. Now wasn't the time to freak out.

The readout on his suit-HUD showed that he had no bars, GPS, or data connection. It wasn't night which meant even the clock was wrong. Usually, it was paired with his devices. He hadn't had a suit AI since the Iron-Spider suit Tony had made. It was a show of trust in his abilities and Peter may have smiled for way too long after Tony had told him that. With it gone he had to do things the old-fashioned way.

Moving on instinct, he activated the feature to loosen his suit. He stripped it off and released the patches that held a set of  shrink-wrapped street clothes. The tech was much more advanced than shrink-wrap, but he liked to call it that. It was a little trick he designed for when the nanotech suit needed to be charged.

He opened the packages then put on a long-sleeved blue compression shirt, a pair of jeans, and a pair of thin converse knockoffs. The only way for the clothing to fit required each piece to be able to compress down into a thin patch and actually function as usual once it was unpacked. Peter activated storage function of the suit for it to fold up into a square about the size of a deck of cards. He had three extra capsules of web-fluid, not counting the used ones that were already loaded. He did a quick pocket tap-down to find his wallet and pulled it out to take a look inside.

"Seventeen dollars and… a stick of gum!" Peter said. He pulled the stick of foil only for it to squish under his touch.

Peter scanned the roof for somewhere to toss the ruined stick of gum. There wasn't anywhere to put it and stuffed it into his pocket. He needed to figure out where he was. A gas station, or convenience store would be a good place to start since they usually had maps. From there he needed to secure some food, shelter, and water. That was a lesson all of New York had learned after the Battle of New York. The Dark Elves, while not as big of a threat, helped solidify the mantra as well. Somewhere around that time the Hammer Bots turned the grounds around the Stark Expo into a warzone.

Shelter, water, and food became the new stop, drop, and roll. Homeless shelters were a good resource, as were public libraries. Churches weren't too bad of an option if they kept the preaching to a minimum.

Money would speed all of that along. Except he had no idea where he was and if the cash he had would even be accepted. He had just graduated High School, not that it mattered in this world. His work experience with the Stark Internship was gone too. Peter hopped off the roof, deftly landing on the street below. There weren't too many people nearby. Those that were didn't pay him any attention.

He found a convenience store easily enough. The clerk looked up at him behind a sheet of security glass. A shotgun was clearly displayed on a hook within reach. The old man looked haggard, a scraggly beard that was broken by a strip of a scar along his jaw. Peter shot the clerk a quick look, but they didn't seem to mind.

Pete caught a view of himself on the security screen. His face was still cut, there was a yellow bruise along his cheek, and his nose was slightly off kilter. Peter shook his head. He made sure the clerk wasn't paying attention before putting his nose back in place. Peter grunted from the sharp pain.

There was a full medical section that wouldn't have looked out of place in a pharmacy. Peter grabbed a small first aid kit. There was a small clothing section as well. Peter came to a halt when he saw a small shelf of body armor. They weren't quite professional grades, but it was still odd.

He snagged a travel map that was for the city and the country. Peter placed everything on the counter. The clerk scanned the purchases boredly.

"Paper or plastic?" The clerk asked.

"Plastic," Peter replied.

A stack of newspapers caught his eye. The headline read 'Joker Returned to Arkham'. Peter looked at the mug shot. A guy in full clown make-up, complete with green hair and smudged red lips smiled maniacally at the camera. The clown wore a full purple suit that had stains on it that looked like blood.

He added a newspaper to the pile.

"Ten dollars and fifty-three cents," The clerk rested a hand on the shotgun.

Peter put the money on the counter and watched for any reaction from the clerk. The old guy took the cash without an issue. At least one thing made sense.

"What's with the body armor?" Peter asked.

"It's the cheap stuff," The clerk shrugged. "Shit against anything. Might stop a knife. Guy hits you with a pipe and you're screwed."

"Yeah," Peter muttered. "Thanks."

"Not from around here?" The clerk asked.

"Is it that obvious?" Peter gave him a grin.

"The accent," The clerk shrugged. "What brings you to Gotham?"

Peter shrugged. "Just kind of wound up here."

"You strapped?" The clerk asked.

"What?" Peter asked his own in reply.

"Strapped," the clerk said tapping the shotgun.

"I don't like guns," Peter shook his head.

"Get one," The clerk stared at him for a long moment. "Gasmask too. A good one."

"Why?" Peter asked slowly.

"Don't you know anything about Gotham?" The clerk gawked at him.

"No," Peter said sighing.

"Good luck, kid," The clerk shook his head.

"Thanks," He took the plastic bag.

Peter stepped back out onto the street. There was a small tingle on the back of his head. Danger, but not imminent. He scanned the area with his eyes, not moving his head. Peter had to suppress a laugh when he noticed a group of clowns. Five of them. Sure, their make-up was messy, and their clothes were more out-of-work carnie than birthday party, but they were still clowns.

The tingle told him that they shouldn't be ignored. After his experience with Goblin, a guy named Doctor Octopus, and a dude made out of sand, he made sure to tamp down the incredulity of the situation. They fell in behind him as he walked down the street.

Peter sighed. He was not in the mood for this. Actually, he was. He still had plenty of aggression to work out. Effectively, the serum had killed Green Goblin. Peter knew that Norman Osborn was a victim as much as any of them. That didn't mean Peter could just let it go. He had lost May, MJ, and Ned. Considering what Strange had told him, he had lost his entire world. Literally. Now these clowns wanted to take even more from him.

He turned to face them.

"What?" Peter growled out.

"Your bag and your cash or your life," the largest of the group said.

The big one, Peter decided his name was Jumbo, stood in the center, flanked by two other clowns on either side. To the right was Bozo, a portly guy with a smear of dingy red smile, and Groucho, the only one of the clowns with a mustache, he was also the shortest of the bunch. On the left were two clowns that could have been twins. They were both around six feet tall, were in decent shape, if a little thin, and were wearing purple pants. Dee and Dum seemed fitting. All five of them wore clothes that looked like they had been swiped from an old circus.

Peter sprang forward, kicking Jumbo in the chest. The big clown flew a couple of feet in the air before coming down hard on the sidewalk. Pete used the impact to flip backward, landing almost in the same spot he had just been. The four others didn't move. It took a couple of moments for them to realize that their leader wasn't there anymore.

"So," He looked at the clowns flashing a feral smile. "Who's next?"

Bozo yelled something that almost sounded like English. The portly clown raised a thick fist, ready to throw a haymaker. Dee, Dum, and Groucho seemed to wake up at the yell. They rushed forward.

To him, they moved in slow motion. Peter ducked under the incoming haymaker, grabbed the extended arm, and tossed Bozo into a nearby wall. The clown didn't move to get up. Pete twisted out of the way of another haymaker. He finished the turn, replying with a punch to the ribs. Dee wheezed as the air was forced from his lungs. Peter lifted the clown up by the belt and tossed him into the same wall Bozo had met.

Dum screamed, charging forward. The clown locked his hands together, bringing them up, ready to smash Peters skull. He caught the clenched fists. Peter yanked the off-balance clown towards him. The wild kick that Groucho had lined up collided with Dums' lower back. Dum dropped to a knee.

Peter backhanded Dum, sending the clown twisting in the air and hard to the ground. Groucho looked at the four clowns spread out in the street. They groaned and fumbled to get to their feet, but it was slow going. The clown was alone for now.

"You fucked up," Groucho chuckled, if it was meant to sound intimidating, then he failed. "Just wait 'til the boss finds out about this."

"That five of you couldn't take on a teenager?" Peter actually did chuckled. "I'd love to hear that conversation."

Groucho ran off, leaving the other four clowns in a crumpled spread in the street. Peter rolled his eyes, then checked his plastic bag to find it was still intact. He started down the sidewalk, leaving the clowns where they were. Hopefully, the cops would be around to pick them up.

He cut across a couple of streets and doubled back just to make sure he wasn't being followed. Peter looked around, just to be safe once he found a decent building. He hopped from wall to wall, bouncing from one side to the next, until he was back on the roof.

Pete took out the first aid kit and started to clean the wounds on his face. They would heal up in a day, two at most, but he didn't like them untreated. Over the years he had become rather adept at patching himself up. There were too many times he didn't want May to see him all bruised.

Once that was done he spread the map out along the top of an AC unit. Currently, it was flipped to show the United States rather than the city. The clerk had said he was in Gotham. The city was spread across a string of three islands. Peter wasn't the type to brag, but he was a genius. He knew for a fact that Gotham was called Chicago in his old world. Not only had he been sent to another world, but he was in a different state. Looking at the area around New York City he discovered that another city had been replaced. Trenton, New Jersey was called Metropolis here. It also looked like a city to rival NYC.

"We're not in Kansas anymore," Peter muttered.

He flipped the map over to the side that focused on the city. Judging from the street signs he was in The Bowery. There was a place called Wayne Foundation Chapter a few streets over. It sounded like a homeless shelter, or at least an organization like FEAST that May had worked with. He sat on the roof, his back against the AC unit he had been using as a table. It helped block out the ever-present breeze that all rooftops had. He pulled out the newspaper and began to read.

Joker, as the clown was aptly named, had been apprehended by a joint effort between Batman and the GCPD. The article went on to explain that while the criminal had been captured only a few days after his escape, there was still the chance that something had been put in motion. It went on to reference the many times Joker had escaped before, how long it took to catch him, and a highlight of his more recent activities.

The guy was like Goblin in full evil mode. From this article alone he could tell that this was a common occurrence. There had been more than a dozen of the 'recent activities' listed in the article. Not only that, but he seemed to escape from this Arkham place like clockwork. The death toll attributed to him was in the triple-digits. Either there was more than one of him, or the guy was a modern-day mass murderer.

He needed to be put down for good, not locked up.

Peter paused. The thought had come so easily. Peter Two had stopped him from killing Osborn. He gritted his teeth. Figuratively killing Green Goblin and actually doing it were two separate things. Peter Two didn't have any room to talk. He had killed or facilitated the deaths of all of the villains that had come from his world. Otto had drowned, Osborn had been impaled. Flint was the only one that had survived. Peter Two had no right to stop him. Peter Three was a bit of a goof, but he had still killed Max. He even admitted to not pulling his punches after. The one-time Peter had let himself go full was against Thanos. If the Spider-Men were all the same strength, then Peter Three would have turned a few people into gooey chunks.

It made him think back to the villains he had encountered. Toomes hadn't been personally involved in killing anyone, but the guy was a weapons dealer. He put alien tech in the hands of criminals who had no qualms about stacking up bodies. The guy had also kept his identity a secret. Maybe he deserved a pass for that. Thanos. How many millions, no billions of lives would have been saved if Peter had just snapped his neck? He was definitely fast enough to get in close. One moment of using his full strength to twist that purple bastards head around and things would have been over in time for lunch. Mysterio deserved to be dead. Outing his identity was a dick move, but it was more than that. How many people had he killed, or hurt while putting on his act?

Peter focused back on the newspaper. The last page of the Local Announcements section of the newspaper was rather alarming.

·         Recommend travel with access to a Grade Three or higher filtration mask

·         Citywide Updates are broadcast on all major news channels

·         Law Enforcement requests citizens limit time spent outside at night during active crisis periods.

·         Heed the siren patterns for Crisis Classification

The section afterward caught his eye. It was called Bat-Watch. It was dedicated to keeping track of a group of vigilantes that protected the city. The section focused on the main duo of Batman and his partner Robin. There was also Batgirl and Black Bat, just to make it easy. Red Hood and Red Robin were featured as well as a guy called Nightwing, but he was only around sometimes.

Gotham seemed to like its themes.

Peter rubbed a hand over his face. Getting caught up in the various vigilante escapades wasn't an option for now. Judging by the attempted mugging earlier, avoiding trouble was not going to be easy. He packed everything back into the bag and wrapped it tightly, so it fit in his pocket before he hopped off the side of the building.

It was just now sunset, and the streets were already thinning out. A rougher looking crowd replaced the few gruff folk that had been out before. Oddly enough, it became clear that they weren't all some sort of an organized thugs. Each of the factions were pretty easy to distinguish. Back in New York, the thugs were just thugs. They didn't have a theme. Sure, some of them dressed better or had better equipment, but they didn't dress up like clowns. Here, each group had a theme to it, which became even more noticeable as the numbers grew.

By the time he had made it to the Wayne Foundation, the streets were getting crowded. This area was much more active at night and not in a good way.

The Wayne Foundation Chapter was a nice-looking shelter. A lady stood behind a thick layer of protective glass off to the side of the entry. Opposite her booth was another, this one with a few intense looking security guards. The way deeper into the building was blocked off by a set of sturdy double doors.

"Name?" The woman asked.

"Peter Parker," he answered.

The woman didn't bother looking at him as she put in his name. A card popped up from a slit in the counter.

"Don't lose or trade this." The clerk explained. "The cards track and unlock services such as the showers, job search terminals, and personal storage lockers. Wayne Foundation Chapters are not responsible for lost or stolen items. You can stay for a total of forty-eight hours before you need to vacate this location for at least twelve hours. You can check in to another Wayne Foundation Chapter during that time. Weapons of any sort are not allowed on the grounds. No smoking outside of marked areas. Illegal substances are prohibited as is alcohol. If you are found in possession of weapons or drugs you forfeit your access to Wayne Foundation Chapters for no less than twelve hours, or until you have passed a drug screening. Addiction counseling is open as needed. A medical professional is on staff at all times."

"Thank you," Peter said as he picked up the card.

The woman buzzed them in. She shared a look at the security guards across the way. They shook their heads.

"Poor kid won't last a week," she muttered.

He was in luck. The last bit of dinner was being served. There were quite a few people still eating, but there were also a lot of empty spots. Peter took a seat at a table in the cafeteria. It looked like a school lunchroom.

Now that he had shelter, food, and water handled, he needed money. The shelter was a temporary solution, but they did have job search terminals. He finished eating quickly before seeking them out. They were easy to find. A row of computers bolted to the wall like old phone stalls.

None of the jobs listed required ID. Each one was day labor with the option of continued employment. Even though his lack of documentation wasn't an issue, his lack of experience was. Construction seemed like the best option. The instructions were simply to show up at the listed location. Pay would be in cash at the end of the day.

Peter knew that a shelter wasn't going to be decked out in top-of-the-line tech, but the computer was ancient. Oddly enough, it didn't look older than a couple of years. The monitors were the big, heavy ones rather than the LCD that even the school had. He took a quick look around the room. An elevated TV was bolted to the wall. It was one of the type that he had only seen in thrift shops.

Tech was constantly evolving where he had been. Stark Industries was at the forefront, but other companies could be dismissed. Mid-Town was a public school, and like pretty much every other school in the country, underfunded. Yet, students were supplied with individual laptops that made this computers here look like a calculator with delusions of grandeur.

Thinking back, the cash register at the store hadn't been digital. The clerk had typed in the prices from the stickers on the stock. He wasn't certain, but it seemed like this place was at least ten years behind as far as technology was concerned. Of course, he was in a rundown neighborhood, so that needed to be factored in as well.

He printed off the address for the job before moving on to find somewhere to sleep.

Peter snagged an open top bunk. He quickly found out why it had been available. The lady on the bottom had a kid with her that liked to kick the underside of his mattress. He couldn't bring himself to get mad. There wasn't going to be any sleep until the kid on the bunk below passed out. That gave him plenty of time to be alone with his thoughts.

Getting sent to a different dimension hadn't been the plan. Not that he had much of one in the first place. He had given up everything to save his world.  Ned and MJ were better off without him in their lives. They were amazing, and they deserved to have a good life. Ned loved being 'the guy in the chair' but he was so much more than that. He was incredibly smart, sweet, and had a heart of gold. MJ was just amazing. Artistic, smart, sharp witted, and fiercely loyal to the few she called friends.

A stubborn lump formed in his throat. He really hated magic. Math and science had defined rules. Getting distracted during an equation didn't suddenly turn calculous into interpretive dance.

Regardless of where he was, he would be starting over from zero. At least here there wasn't the possibility that he'd destroy the universe by having someone remember him. In truth, that was only a small part of it. He didn't think he was strong enough to see his friend look at him like a stranger.

Peter rolled over a pressed his face into the thin pillow. He let go of the hold on his sorrow. The pillow didn't do much to muffle the sound, but apparently, people having emotional breakdowns were rather pedestrian here.

~
NOTE
Mostly a teaser chapter
As with the other v2 stories, I'll try to integrate pieces of the original that I like. Unlike the others, this one would have some changes to the story as it continues. That and I won't rush the smut this time. It felt tacked on in the first version.