Chapter Text
Peter Parker was having a relatively quiet night in New York City — for once. No alien invasions, no angry symbiotes, not even a random bank robbery to spice things up. He’d been looking forward to a peaceful patrol and maybe even grabbing a hot dog before heading home.
Then the sky tore open.
It wasn’t the first time Peter had seen a rift in reality — these things tended to happen when you hung around sorcerers or meddled with Stark tech. But this one was different. There was no swirling orange glow or faint hum of magic. Instead, the sky shattered like a broken mirror, its jagged edges reflecting back a world Peter didn’t recognize.
“Uh-oh,” he muttered as the air pressure shifted. His Spider-sense flared just as the portal yanked him forward, sending him tumbling headfirst into the void.
When Peter opened his eyes, the world felt… heavier.
The air was thick with smog, and the streets were cloaked in shadows that no streetlamp seemed able to pierce. The skyline was jagged and foreboding, its gothic architecture completely alien compared to New York’s glass-and-steel towers.
Peter groaned, standing up and brushing dirt off his suit. “Great. Another dimension. Just what I needed.”
He climbed a nearby fire escape, scaling to the rooftop for a better look. The city sprawled out below him like something out of a noir film, with dark alleys, flickering neon signs, and an oppressive sense of danger.
“Okay, think, Parker,” he said, scanning the horizon. “You’ve been through this before. Find a wizard, a portal, or a super genius. Step one: figure out where you are. Step two: don’t die.”
His eyes caught on a newspaper blowing across the rooftop. He shot out a web to grab it, squinting at the headline.
“WayneTech CEO Funds Cleanup After Joker Rampage.”
“WayneTech? Joker?” Peter frowned. “Wait a sec… Gotham City? Isn’t this that creepy place with Batman? Okay, but how do I know that? And why is it giving me chills?”
A scream cut through the air, snapping Peter out of his thoughts.
“Right,” he muttered, shooting a webline. “No time for an existential crisis. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man’s on it.”
Peter swung toward the sound, landing quietly on a rooftop overlooking a narrow alley. Below, a group of thugs cornered a young woman in a black hoodie. She stood with her back against the wall, her head lowered.
“Bad move coming down this way, sweetheart,” one of the thugs sneered, brandishing a knife. “No one’s gonna hear you scream.”
Peter sighed. “Why do they always say that?”
Before he could jump into action, the girl moved.
It was so fast Peter almost didn’t see it. One moment she was pressed against the wall; the next, she was disarming the guy with the knife, twisting his wrist and dropping him to the ground in a single, fluid motion.
The other thugs barely had time to react before she was on them. Every strike was precise, every movement efficient. She fought like a dancer, her body a blur of motion as she dismantled the group in seconds.
“Whoa,” Peter whispered, crouching low. “Okay, definitely not a damsel in distress.”
As the last thug hit the ground, groaning, the girl turned her head sharply. Her eyes locked onto Peter’s position.
“Uh-oh.”
Before he could explain himself, she was gone, disappearing into the shadows.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Peter called, swinging down into the alley. “I come in peace! Just a lost tourist!”
He landed where she’d been standing moments ago, his Spider-sense tingling. She was close.
“Okay,” Peter said, holding up his hands. “Let’s start over. Hi, I’m Spider-Man. I think I got pulled into your universe by accident, and—”
A flash of movement. Peter barely ducked in time to avoid a kick aimed at his head. He flipped backward, landing on a crate.
“Whoa! Hey, I’m friendly, I swear!”
The girl stepped into the dim light, her hood falling back to reveal a young woman with sharp eyes and a blank expression. She didn’t say a word, but her body language screamed suspicion.
“You don’t talk much, huh?” Peter said, webbing her next strike mid-air. “That’s cool. I talk enough for both of us.”
She didn’t seem fazed by the webbing, using her momentum to spin out of it and land lightly on her feet.
Peter tilted his head. “Okay, that was awesome. Who are you?”
She didn’t answer, but her stance shifted slightly. Peter realized she wasn’t trying to fight anymore — she was studying him, watching his movements.
“Right,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m not here to cause trouble, I promise. I just need to figure out how to get home. Maybe you can help?”
She hesitated, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a small device. It looked like a communicator. She pressed a button, and a voice crackled through.
“Cass? What’s going on?”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Wait, Cass? You’re… Oh, you’re Batgirl, aren’t you? Or Orphan? Or—actually, it’s rude to guess nicknames, sorry.”
Cass gave him a flat look before speaking softly into the device. “Not dangerous. Just… lost.”
Peter held up a finger. “See? She gets it!”
The voice on the communicator sighed. “Bring him to the safe house. And keep an eye on him.”
Cass tucked the device away and gestured for Peter to follow her.
“Cool, cool,” Peter said, shooting a web to swing alongside her. “Lead the way. And hey, I’ve gotta say, I’m loving the whole silent ninja thing. Very mysterious. Way cooler than what I’m used to.”
She didn’t respond, but Peter swore he caught the tiniest hint of a smirk before she melted back into the shadows.
The safe house was tucked away in one of Gotham’s older neighborhoods, hidden behind a nondescript metal door in a crumbling alley. Peter landed lightly behind Cass as she slipped inside, her movements as silent as ever.
“Nice place,” Peter whispered as they stepped into a dimly lit room lined with monitors, maps, and high-tech gadgets. “Definitely giving off the secret lair vibe. Cozy.”
Cass shot him a quick glance — not annoyed, but not amused either.
“Still no talking, huh?” Peter continued, plopping down on a nearby chair. “Alright, I’ll fill the silence. So, I’m from a parallel universe — Earth-616, if that means anything to you. Long story short, big shiny portal dumped me here. I’m not exactly sure how to get back, but—”
Cass held up a hand, cutting him off. She tapped something on a nearby tablet, pulling up a live video feed. The image on the screen showed a large warehouse, where masked thugs unloaded crates marked with the Oscorp logo.
Peter leaned closer. “Oscorp? Wait, that’s how they’re here? Those guys are like cockroaches — they survive anything.”
Cass turned to him, her expression asking the obvious question.
“Yeah, I know them,” Peter said, gesturing to the screen. “Oscorp’s basically a bad idea factory back home. Illegal experiments, shady tech, evil scientists — you name it. If these guys are dealing with Oscorp tech, that’s bad news. For everyone.”
Cass tilted her head, studying him again. Then, without a word, she grabbed a sleek black mask from a nearby table and slid it over her face, the transformation into her Batgirl persona almost instantaneous.
Peter blinked. “Wait, are we going now? Shouldn’t we call for backup? I mean, you seem awesome and all, but—”
Cass stepped toward the door, gesturing for him to follow.
“Right,” Peter said, standing. “No backup. Just the two of us. Cool, cool, cool.”
The warehouse wasn’t far, and the two arrived quickly. Cass led the way, moving like a shadow along the rooftops. Peter marveled at how effortless she made it look — no gadgets, no webs, just pure skill.
When they reached the building, Cass motioned for Peter to stay back.
“What, you’re going in alone?” he whispered. “That’s not how team-ups work, you know.”
She shot him a look that clearly said, Stay put, before slipping through a skylight.
Peter sighed. “Great. First Batman wants me out of his city, and now Batgirl doesn’t even want me on the team. Is this a Gotham thing, or am I just bad at making friends?”
He crouched on the roof, peering through a dusty window as Cass moved silently through the shadows below. The thugs were busy unloading the Oscorp crates, oblivious to her presence.
Peter’s Spider-sense tingled suddenly, sharper than usual. He turned just in time to see a thug with a sniper rifle on a nearby rooftop, aiming directly at Cass.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Peter muttered.
He fired a webline, yanking the rifle out of the thug’s hands. The man spun, startled, but Peter was already swinging toward him.
“Hey, pal,” Peter said, landing a kick that knocked the thug flat. “Pro tip: don’t aim at the ninja girl.”
Unfortunately, the commotion drew attention. From below, one of the thugs shouted, “We’ve got company!”
Cass moved instantly, taking down two of the men before they could even draw their weapons. Peter jumped through the skylight, landing in the middle of the group.
“Hi there!” he quipped, dodging a punch and webbing another thug to a crate. “I’d like to return these crates to sender. Do you have a receipt?”
The fight was chaotic but brief. Between Cass’s precision strikes and Peter’s acrobatics, the thugs didn’t stand a chance.
When the dust settled, Peter turned to Cass, who was already examining one of the Oscorp crates.
“You know,” he said, brushing dust off his suit, “we make a pretty great team. Maybe we should—”
Cass raised a hand to silence him. She pointed to a small, blinking device attached to the side of the crate.
Peter’s eyes widened. “Is that a bomb?”
Cass nodded.
“Okay, no problem,” Peter said, crouching to inspect it. “I’ve defused, like, a dozen of these things. Well, maybe not exactly like this. But how different can Gotham bombs be, right?”
Cass stepped back, watching as Peter worked.
“Red wire, blue wire,” he muttered, carefully peeling back the casing. “Why is it always wires? Who designs these things? Oh, wait, I think—”
The device suddenly beeped faster.
“That’s bad,” Peter said, his voice pitching higher.
Cass grabbed his arm, pulling him back. She pointed to a nearby window, then to herself.
“What, you want me to go while you—?”
She nodded.
“Yeah, no, not happening,” Peter said, shooting a web at the device. “We’re both getting out of here. Trust me.”
He yanked the bomb free with a webline and launched it toward the open window. It flew out just as it detonated, the explosion lighting up the night sky.
Peter and Cass ducked as the shockwave rattled the warehouse.
When the smoke cleared, Peter let out a shaky laugh. “See? Teamwork. You’re welcome.”
Cass didn’t respond, but as they left the warehouse, Peter thought he caught the faintest hint of a smile beneath her mask.