Chapter Text
Peter didn't know what to expect when Dr. Strange had cast the spell, but waking up in a random alleyway still in his dirty, bloodied suit was not in his top ten predictions. The alleyway was nothing remarkable and looked like every other alley in New York City.
When he finally gathered the will to start moving, his first course of action was to get rid of his suit, and not reveal his identity to the entire world- again.
As he walked through the city’s alleyways, he finally noticed his saving grace, a clothesline. Typically, Peter would rather die than steal from a regular person, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“I'll return these when I can, I promise.”
He ended up taking the absolute bare minimum: a pair of jeans, a gray shirt, some socks, and a sweatshirt with a lightning bolt on it. As he changed into the stolen clothes, he looked down at his bloodied suit. Walking around with it on full display probably wouldn't be a good idea.
He didn't want to just leave anywhere, though. Eventually, once he found his footing, he'd be able to fix the suit and get back to Spider-Maning.
A quick look through the area and an abandoned building caught his attention. It was nestled in between two beat-down apartments.
Dirty, broken, and hidden. A perfect place to hide.
The building itself seemed to be an old apartment building that had been destroyed for some time. Half of the building was gone, and what was still standing was riddled with debris and trash. Not a 5-star resort by any means, but no one would notice or care if he used it as a temporary hideout.
He shoved the suit underneath a loose floorboard and decided to head back out into the city.
As he walked, the city never seemed to get any livelier; there were people, sure, but they kept their heads down and walked with purpose.
Peter frowned.
New York had never been this quiet.
As he walked, he tried approaching a random person to get basic information on wherever the hell he was, but whenever he tried to approach, the person would just look at him and walk faster.
Rude, he thought.
After a few more failed attempts, Peter decided to just keep walking and try to find some sort of clue to where exactly he was.
Just when he was about to give up, a newspaper stand caught his eye. While Peter had never been the kind to read the newspaper, he was relieved to see the medium was still around.
“Gotham Gazette” He'd never heard of the company nor the city of Gotham, but what he did recognize was the small print saying ‘New Jersey’.
Yep. That explains it.
Somehow, Strange’s spell transported him to New Jersey, of all places. As he continued reading, the headline caught his eye- “Clayface CAUGHT: Batman sends rogue back to Arkham.
"Hey, kid! You gotta pay to read these, what am I made of money?” The man yelled.
Peter looked back at him.
“Oh, I'm sorry, yes. I was just-” The man must have felt some guilt after seeing his bruised face because he just huffed and said,
“Whatever, but don't get any blood on my newspaper.”
He thanked whatever god that at least someone pitied a bloodied teenager.
As he continued reading, more and more names came up-
Batman,
Robin.
Nightwing.
None of these rang a bell, and there wasn't any mention of the avengers or even Spider-Man. What kind of newspaper focused on some random vigilantes instead of big shot heroes. Even Spider-Man barely had any media coverage until he was seen with the Avengers.
“Um, sir- who are these guys, Batman and others?” he asked.
“You ain't never heard of the bats?” The man sounded almost offended. “Jesus kid, look, I can see you ain't from here, but Gotham’s a dangerous fucking place. You need to go home before you get killed.”
He stopped listening to the man and his ranting. He wasn't in New York; he wasn't in any city that he had ever heard of before. And the bats, if the man was right and they were the real deal, there's no way he wouldn't have heard of them, either from the news or Mr. Stark.
His heart dropped. He re-read the article and scanned the other pages looking for the eventual reference about something familiar.
Nothing.
The spell was to make everyone forget who Peter Parker was. What better way to do that than by sending him somewhere Peter Parker didn't exist.
He was suddenly feeling very nauseous and started walking. He didn't really know where he was going but somehow he ended up at the old apartment building.
He knew what he was getting into when he told Strange to cast the spell. It might have taken a while, but he would have been able to fix it and help his friends regain their memories.
But this..
How was supposed to fix this?
How was he supposed to survive this?
Everything started feeling suffocating. He needed to get somewhere open. Luckily, it seemed like the whole area was a ghost town, he made use of his powers and quickly climbed up to the roof.
As soon as he got up there, he felt lighter, but he couldn't help thinking back to the last 48 hours.
He sat at the ledge with his feet dangling. Maybe he was overthinking it. He read one newspaper that didn't mention the avengers and now he’s overreacting. As soon as he got access to a phone he’d call someone, maybe Strange. He’d explain what happened and get him to fix things. No, that wouldn't work, where would he even get access to a phone. He hadno money, and based on less than 24 hours of experience he doubts any of this city’s residents would let him even look at their phone. The plan is also contingent on Strange existing in this world. He stopped thinking about the plan after that.
His Aunt May would know just what to say.
God, May. He wasn't even able to bury her. Of course he knew she was dead, he had seen it happen, he had held her while she took her last breath. But it was hard to get his brain to understand, it still felt like she was just waiting for him at home.
He thought back to his friends. Ned. MJ. Maybe they'd be at MIT’s accepted students night, at least they'd have something good. He was able to compensate a bit for his mistakes.
He closed his eyes and just listened to the city. Alarms, police sirens, and yelling. So much like his home but somehow so completely different.
Time stopped mattering after a while. He wasn't sure how long he sat there but the once sunny city had turned dark and it felt like something shifted in the atmosphere itself. At night it seemed almost like the city came alive. Like it was alive and angry.
!!!!
He could tell someone was behind him. He knew it before he heard them. The steps were quiet and controlled as if not to startle him. A normal person probably wouldn't have even noticed them at all. Peter decided not to turn around, his senses weren't screaming danger, so he stayed quiet waiting to see if they would approach.
“Hi there, you ok?” came from a man's voice. Peter decides to finally look back.
The man, clearly one of the city's vigilantes, was wearing a black suit with a blue symbol that resembled a bird on the front of the suit. He was also wearing a domino mask which didn't do much to hide his facial expressions or identity. The man was clearly concerned and hesitated to come any closer to the edge. His eyes focused on Peter's face and he visibly stiffened.
“I'm fine.” Peter replied, hoping he would just leave but the vigilante didn't seem to be going anywhere. He sighed. “You can stop hovering. I'm admiring the view, not planning my funeral.”
“Well that's good, but I can't imagine Gotham’s anything to write home about.”
Peter laughed, he had no clue how true that was. “Yeah, the city just feels wrong. This makes New York look normal.”
“You’re from New York?”
“Yeah, I am. Queens, actually.”
“So what are you doing in Gotham of all places?”
“Great question.”
“You don’t know?”
“Not really” Nightwing stepped closer as if preparing himself to leap off if Peter made any sudden moves..
“Listen kid, I'm really enjoying our conversation, you wouldn't mind just stepping back a little, just so I feel a little better,” he said.
He wanted to tell him off and that what he was doing was frankly no ones business, but looking back at the man's worried face he decided to pick his battles, Peter stood up and walked a few feet towards the masked man.
The man visibly relaxed. “Thanks kid. What are you doing up here anyways? It's the middle of the night you should be heading home”
“I’m just hanging around, I always feel less stressed up here”
The man smiled, “Yeah me too. It's pretty freeing huh? What's your name?”
Peter frowned. His identity was what got him into this mess in the first place, but no one here knew him. Would saying it cause all of this to start over again?
“...Peter,” he replied before he could stop himself.
“Well it's nice to meet you Peter, I’m Nightwing.”
Nightwing. That was one of the names he recognized from the newspaper. So the real deal. Peter sat back down on the roof and facing back to the city. Making a point to face away from the vigilante. “You must have better things to do than just talking to me. There’s gotta be some crime for you to stop somewhere,”
Nightwing frowned, “Well when I get news that a bruised and bloody teenager is sitting at a ledge of a building, that kind of becomes my business. You should get those looked at by the way. The way you're holding your arm, did you hurt your shoulder?”
“I'm fine. I've had worse.” With the way Nightwing’s face tightened, that wasn't the correct answer. “Listen, you've done your civic duty as a vigilante. I'm fine, I promise you can leave and I'll be fine.”
“Do you have somewhere safe to stay at least?”
Peter didn't answer.
“You look like you haven't slept in days. You're obviously underaged, and you look like you went three rounds with Bane .If someone's hurting you-”
“First of all I don't even know what that means. No one’s hurting me and I've got a place to stay. I've just been a little bit stressed out” He wasn't even lying, the abandoned apartment would keep him sheltered for now, as soon as he was able to settle down a bit.
The man looked conflicted as if he was struggling on how to say the right thing. “Let me at least get you somewhere to get that shoulder looked at.”
“No. I don't need help,” Peter replied instantly.
“I would just feel more comfortable if-”
A female voice interrupted him, coming from a comm in his ear. “Sorry Nightwing, bank robbery 5 minutes away. Red Robin’s already there but he could use some backup”
Nightwing pressed his finger to his ear and responded, “On it.” He looked back at Peter. “Listen kid, please stay safe. I can tell you're not from here. This city can really mess with you if you let it. If you change your mind, the Martha Wayne Shelter can help you. It’s around a 20 minute walk from here.”
He didn’t reply. A few seconds later he heard a sigh and footsteps retreating. A mechanical thwipp, and then he was gone. After a few more minutes, he headed back inside to his new home. He’d allow himself one night of self-pity,
Tomorrow he would find food.
He’d figure out everything about this universe and he'd figure out how to survive.
But for now, for one night, he'd let himself grieve.