Chapter Text
Peter awoke with a gasp, clawing at the ground beneath him as he gulped down breaths of air. His lungs burned, his chest ached, scratch that, his whole body ached. He pushed himself up to his knees, surveying his immediate surroundings through bleary vision. He blinked rapidly, adjusting to the darkness that wrapped around him. His only light was the moon above, but even it struggled to pierce through the clouds and smog.
As his vision cleared, he noticed he was in a clearing of some sort, but more surprising than that, was the human-shaped crate he found himself in. He felt disoriented, displaced, and it didn’t help that no matter how hard he tried to remember how he got here, he just couldn’t. He felt a certain wrongness about this situation and himself. He felt not right, and that was a terrible feeling. His spider-sense tingled at the back of his neck, a low hum of awareness.
Peter struggled up to his feet, a wave of dizziness and nausea threatening to topple him back to the ground. He doubled over, hands pressed against his knees as he took deep breaths, trying not to dry heave. After a few moments of standing like that, he stood up straight, moving slowly to not jostle his likely concussed mind. He turned in a full circle, glancing around, getting a better view of the clearing he found himself in. There were a few trees that bordered on the edges of the dead grass.
He could feel the chill in the air. Crisp and nipping at his skin. A smell of death and violence, though faint, wafted to his nose, making his face contort in a look of disgust. Aimless and still not completely in-touch with his reality, he began walking in a certain direction. His reasoning for going in this direction made no rhyme or reason, but seemed more like instinct. Like a string pulling his soul towards the unknown despite how his spider-sense only heightened in warning.
Peter was deaf to it as if he was underwater or perhaps in a dream. He stumbled through the thin stretch of woods, only barely missing roots and limbs that seemed intent to reach out and grab him thanks to his instincts. Finally, the source of his spider-sense’s insistent warnings was revealed to Peter’s eyes. A dark city that flickered in the distance. Peter could swear he could hear the city from here. Even now, in the dead of night, it was alive.
A feeling of unease settled in his stomach. It didn’t look like New York. Sure, the skylines were similar, but Peter could feel it in his soul, this wasn’t New York, this wasn’t home. Just where the hell was he? The last thing he could remember was Doctor Stra- no, Stephen’s spell. Everything after that was blank. Peter couldn’t help but think that something had gone terribly wrong with that spell as well.
He shook his head, pondering over ‘what ifs?’ and ‘could bes’ did him no favors. What he needed right now was to get to this city and figure out where the hell he was and try to figure out what exactly happened after Stephen’s spell.
The comms were alive with voices, everyone trying to share their own thoughts and speculations. It’s been like this since the sky above Gotham lit up as if the sun had replaced the moon and flung something out of it nearly an hour ago. Jason still remembered what that feeling felt like. He couldn’t exactly explain it with words other than that there was this immense pressure and a sense of foreboding. After that, his comms screamed to life with everyone asking if everyone else saw it too. The whole of Gotham seemed to be alive with panic as news outlets reported on it and the citizens asked concern questions on different forums.
The only ones who had remained quiet were Barbara and Bruce. The sight of what looked like a second sun had shocked everyone to their core, Jason knew it, hell, even he was shocked. He knew everyone was trying their damndest to conceal their panic. Perhaps, the ball of light disappearing after it had spat something out had been more jarring and panic inducing than the damn thing appearing.
Finally, however, Bruce came on the comms, “Oracale, report.” He said, silencing everyone with just a few words. Now with the comms silent, Barbara spoke.
“I wish I had something for you B. My best guess is that whatever it was, was a portal of some type. Its energy readings were off the charts though. I was trying to track it but it disappeared without a trace before I could get anything significant.” Barbara said before pausing, probably taking a breather to organize her thoughts.
“Whatever fell from it, pulsed with a life of its own. I tried tracking its trajectory, but the energy readings from it scrambled my cameras.” She continued, sounding frustrated.
“Okay, so you’re telling us that this thing, whatever it is, is a fucking alien or something?” Jason asked, brows furrowing. It’s not that he had anything against aliens, but usually, if something gets spat out of a portal, it doesn’t really bode well for everyone else.
“Essentially, yes. Though whether or not it’s sentient or not, I can’t say for certain. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for anything strange, you all should do the same.” Barbara responded.
“Look for anything that signifies a crash landing or perhaps a small crater. Falling from that height and speed, it should’ve left an indentation of some kind.” Bruce finally spoke.
Everyone made a sound of acknowledgement, immediately focusing on the task at hand. The night was still young and the underbelly of Gotham wouldn’t rest just because of a potential alien threat. So, neither could they. Jason just hoped this alien was like Superman, Starfire, or Martian Manhunter.
By the time Peter stumbled into an alley way, the chill of the night had thoroughly seeped into his bones. His extremities were numb with the cold, his fingers and toes flaring with pain at every movement. It hurt to take deep breaths, his chest rattling painfully. His head was fuzzy, like somebody had shoved a bunch of cotton balls into it. He could hardly think straight, let alone determine where he was.
Peter collapsed against a wall, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath. His spider-sense was still a hum, only peaking whenever someone passed by. He was too disoriented to actually tell who was a threat and who wasn’t. His vision was splotchy with dark orbs.
Desperate to find somewhere safe and hopefully warm, Peter stumbled down the alley way, using the wall to keep himself upright. His hands grasped at the wall blindly, searching for the tell-tale sign of a door. He'd almost given up when his hands landed on cold metal.
He recoiled at the feeling before his mind processed it. Without a second thought, Peter grasped the handle that didn't seem to want to budge and exerted some strength into it. He heard the metal groan then snap, the handle falling off.
With it no longer locked, Peter shouldered the door open, tripping into the building. He fell, scuffing his chin against the hard floor. If it wasn't for his fear of freezing to death, he might've taken a moment to focus on the pain in his chin.
Instead, he found himself feeling around in the darkness, going off of his Spider-Sense and enhanced eyesight to make his way around the space. Despite the exterior of the building, the interior was pretty clean and warm.
He fumbled around in the dark before he found another door and opened it, relieved it wasn't locked. Feeling around, he could tell it was small, most likely a broom closet. His fingers brushed against what felt like blankets and in his cold-addled mind, didn't think twice before wrapping them around himself and sinking to the floor.
He curled up in a ball, trying to conserve as much heat as he could. He practically purred at the soft feeling of blankets and sense of security he suddenly felt from being bundled up in such an enclosed space. He was still shivering relentlessly despite being in a much warmer spot.
His eyes were heavy and drooping and for the life of him, Peter couldn't resist the urge to close them. He knew it was dangerous with him being this cold, possibly concussed, and having other injuries, but he couldn't help it.
He was so tired, mentally and physically. Resting his eyes for a little bit wasn't too bad, was it? No, something whispered in his head and Peter felt too inclined to agree with it. So against everything he knew, against his Spider-sense that still hummed with the possibility of danger, Peter allowed himself to close his eyes and rest.
Notes:
Thank you all for reading! I hope you like the new version of Gotham's Spider as much as I do. I definitely feel like this is the right direction to take the story and feel much more comfortable and motivated with writing it then before.
I do apologize for the first chapter being so short, but I promise the following chapters will be a bit longer! With that said, thank you for your love and support! Feel free to share your thoughts with me down in the comments! Have a great day/night!! <333
Edit: Decided to change the last few paragraphs of this chapter just a bit to better fit my vision for chapter 2. Hope you enjoy! :3
Chapter 2: A Bat and A Stray Spider
Notes:
Please note that in this chapter you will see me promptly drag the cannon and timeline out back and beat them both upside the head with a shovel and convince them this was right :)
Happy reading!! :3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason cursed as the ping of an alert sounded through his ears, clenching his teeth as landed on a roof with a heavy thud.
“Hood, it appears that someone has broken into one of your old Safehouses.” Barbara's voice filtered through the comms, confirming what Jason already knew.
“Yeah, I know O, thanks.” Jason responded with a grunt. He didn't mean to sound like an ass, but he was slightly irritable ever since the whole thing from earlier with no leads yet on where this ‘alien’ went. And well, a few thugs definitely got on his nerves, getting hit with a crowbar tends to do that to people.
Well, most people would probably be unconscious after taking a crowbar to the head, not Jason though. Another plus one to why helmets are so much better than a cowl or domino mask.
Anyways, back to the task at hand, after confirming which old safehouse it was, Jason took off once more, jumping over alley ways, running across rooftops, using his grappling gun when needs be. None of his moves wasted energy, each act efficient and graceful. Despite his size, Jason was rather flexible. Maybe not Dick or Cass level flexible, but more flexible than you’d think, which arguably, isn’t a lot.
He made it to his destination in only a few minutes, his breathing slightly labored. It came out harsher through his helmet’s modulator, sounding more like Darth Vader’s breathing than anything. Jason cringed at the thought and made a mental note to stop hanging around Dick and Tim so much. He was starting to make similar references to the shit they like to watch.
Dropping down to the ground silently, Jason stalked towards the building, using the darkness as cover. He was unsure if whoever tripped the silent alarm was a homeless person seeking shelter, or a criminal trying to rob the place blind, so it was better to err on the side of caution.
He sneaks up to the door, immediately noticing that it was cracked open. The handle was missing, and upon closer inspection, it was laid on the ground a few feet away, bent and twisted. His brows furrowed beneath his helmet as he raised his hand up to where his ear was underneath his helmet.
“Heads up O, possibly a meta that broke in.” Jason said, his voice a quiet whisper amidst the unnervingly quiet alley way.
“A meta? Are you sure?” She responded, not exactly doubting him, but also searching for more information.
“Not a hundred percent sure, but considering the metal door’s handle is broken off and twisted and mangled, it’s a good chance.” He responded with a shake of his head that went unseen.
“Want me to call in for back up?” Barbara asked
“Don’t worry about it, I can handle this myself.” Jason answered, his voice strained even through the comms. It’s only been almost a year since he was accepted back in Gotham and only 7 months since he’s been on okay-ish terms with the family. And even less time that he’s accepted communication with them when out in the field. He still didn’t want them poking around in his parts of town.
Jason could’ve sworn he heard Barbara sigh, but she said nothing about his insistence to still work alone. “Right well, be careful, then.” She responded, sounding troubled.
“You know me O, when am I not careful?” Jason asked, his voice sarcastic and joking. They both knew that he took careful out back and beat it up with a bat. Or in other words, Jason was only careful when he felt like it.
Still, his response worked as he heard Barbara snort with laughter. He could also imagine her shaking her head with exasperation. Still, despite his easy banter with Babs, Jason hadn’t forgotten about what he was doing and where he was at. He turned back to the door as the comms fell silent once more.
One hand on the gun at his hips, Jason pushed the heavy door open the rest of the way, his helmet’s night vision immediately coming on. He sauntered through the old safehouse, noting that everything was still where it was. It didn’t seem like anything was out of place or stolen.
It wasn’t until Jason made his way to the hallway that he noticed something strange. The door to the broom closet was wide open. Moving with light steps, he walked over to it, hand gripping the handle of his gun as he peered in. At first, he didn’t see anything other than a tangled mess of blankets strewn about. But his ears picked up on the faint sound of rattled breathing. It was quiet, too quiet. He had to strain his ears just to hear it.
He took a step into the broom closet, filling up most of the space. Focusing on the bundle of blankets on the floor, he noticed the tell-tale sign of someone beneath them, breathing. Slowly, carefully, he pulled the blankets back, revealing a teenager. The kid looked no older than 17 or 18, Jason figured.
The teenager, whoever they are, were asleep. Jason bent down, getting closer to listen to the teen’s breathing. It was strained and rattled. Broken ribs perhaps? He sighed, hands finding the light switch before flipping it on. He closed his eyes momentarily, not wanting to get blinded before his night vision disabled. The teen didn’t react in the slightest to the lights flipping on.
In the light, Jason could see that the teenager was disheveled to say the least. He was covered in dirt, blood, and various bruises and scrapes from what Jason could see. He was wearing a weird onesie looking garment, but it was too ripped and torn and dirty to tell what it really was.
“Jesus.” Jason breathed under his breath. “What the hell happened to you, kid?” He asked softly, not expecting an answer from the unconscious teenager.
Jason crouched down fully this time, trying to gently shake the teen awake, not wanting to shake him too hard in fear of him having broken ribs and god knows what else. His brow furrowed as he felt how cold the teen was, even through the leather of his gloves. He was cold, way too cold.
The safehouse wasn’t exactly warm as it hasn’t been actively used in a few months, so there’s been no need to keep the heater on, but still. This kid was practically an ice block. Before he even thought to move the teen, Jason went around the safehouse and flipped on a few lights and made sure the heater was going strong. He made his way back to the teen, trying once more to wake him up with no luck.
“O, found the cause for the alarm. It’s a teenager. Found them unconscious with various scrapes and bruises. They are covered in dirt and blood. Contact Leslie, see if she is available to make a house visit.” Jason said in a rush, not waiting for Barbara to respond.
Reaching out, he grasped the teen and gently eased him up, being mindful of the potential injuries. He made sure to keep the blanket wrapped firmly around the teen, wanting to keep him as warm as possible. He was wrapped up like a burrito as it was.
“Right, up you go.” Jason said as he lifted the teen up and into his arms. He was heavier than he looked, deadweight really, but not anything Jason couldn’t handle. With the teen carefully cradled in his arms, Jason carried him out of the broom closet and into the living room.
Jason carefully set him down on the couch, laying him down flat on his back. Standing back up straight, Jason quickly accessed the visible injuries, noting some of them were just surface level cuts and abrasions.
He heard a beep on his comms and then Barbara's voice following. “I’ve informed Leslie of the situation and she said she could make a visit. I’ve given her directions to the safehouse. She should be there in about ten to fifteen minutes tops.”
“Got it, thanks O.” Jason responded, his voice gruff.
He knew basic first aid stuff, nothing that would help in the long run, but he could at least busy himself by cleaning up some of these cuts so Leslie could focus on the more important injuries. Besides, Jason felt slightly responsible for the teen. He found him after all.
When Peter began to come around, he was groggy and just as confused as he was earlier. For a moment, he believed he was back home in his own bed, but then the events that happened flashed through his mind, from Aunt May to him asking Stephen to make everyone forget who he was.
That sudden remembrance hit him like a train (trust him, he knows what getting hit by a train feels like) leaving him winded. Or perhaps that was just from his broken ribs. Peter wasn’t sure. He was snapped out of his grief and despair from the sound of hushed voices. He froze immediately, body going ridged as his breath quietened.
He didn’t have to strain to hear the voice, picking up the pieces of the conversation. It sounded like a lady and potentially a man, though the man’s voice was altered and robotic sounding. A voice modulator perhaps?
“I’ve done what I can for him here. To receive further treatment and to get X-rays done, I’d need to bring him back to my clinic.” The woman’s voice sounded out through the silence, both stern and soft at the same time.
“I understand, thanks for making the visit. I can help you move him to the clinic.” The man’s voice responded, much colder and rough.
Peter tuned them out as panic shot through him. Clinic? What the hell were they talking about? He finally focused on his surroundings, noticing that he was laid on a couch with various bandages covering him. He felt warm and felt cleaner than he did earlier. Still, that didn’t deter the sudden gut clenching panic.
He was in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar people. He couldn’t guarantee they were a threat, but he also couldn’t guarantee that they weren’t a threat. For all he knew, they might’ve discovered his unique biology and decided to try and experiment on him. With thoughts of sterile white labs, needles, and doctors in white coats, Peter was jumping up off the couch.
He had forgotten one small thing, however. His limbs were still heavy with exhaustion and his legs were tangled up in a blanket. As soon as he got up, he went crashing to the floor with a loud thud. He heard the sound of surprise from both people and could hear their rushed footsteps approaching.
Peter quickly removed the blanket, already missing the warmth as he forced his limbs to move properly. He got up in a crouch position when the man and woman entered the living room. The woman was normal looking, with a head of grey hair and kind eyes but a stern face. The man, well, he set Peter’s Spider-sense on edge, making Peter feel even more anxious.
Peter eyed them warily for a moment, holding his position eerily still. He noticed the man’s red helmet and various weapons strapped to his hips and thighs. As he tried to approach, Peter did something he’s never done before and bared his teeth at the man. He could feel an uncomfortable ache in his gums as he did so, but he was too focused on listening to his Spider-sense to stop and think about it.
His animalistic display must’ve worked as the man stopped in his tracks and even backed up. Peter’s eyes flicked around the room until spotting a way out.
“Hey, it’s okay.” The man said, modulated voice doing him no favors. “You’re okay, we’re just trying to help.” He continued, as if sensing Peter’s urge to flee.
His words fell on deaf ears as in an instant, Peter was bolting towards the door, scrambling across the floor like a spider, arms and legs moving gracefully but way too creepily for a human. He was a blur of movement as he slammed against the door before falling out into the alley way and skittering up the building’s wall. He didn’t know what had come over him, but was moving more on instinct than anything.
Once on the roof of the building, he stood back up on his feet and began running and jumping from building to building, putting as much distance between him and those people as he could. He didn’t so much as stop until his lungs burned and his chest ached painfully once more. His finger tips were cold, but his body was still warm from the exertion of running and leaping from building to building.
Peter paused on top of a rooftop, chest heaving despite his ribs protest. He took a moment to glance around, taking in his surroundings. He was in an unfamiliar city and now that he thought about it, he probably just ran away from his chance of figuring out where he was. He couldn’t explain why he ran, he just moved on instinct, listening to his Spider-sense as it led him away from any dangers.
Even if Peter wanted to crawl back to those people, he couldn’t remember the route he took to get here. He was cut from his thought process as a chilly wind blew through, causing him to shiver. He should’ve taken that blanket he thought solemnly. He shook his head, find shelter first, then he can lament over his failure to bring that blanket with him.
Spotting a fire escape on one side of the building, Peter limped over to it. Sure, he could’ve crawled down the building side or simply jumped down, but he’s agitated his injuries enough as is. Besides, he didn’t fancy flaunting that he had powers more so than he already had.
He stepped down onto the fire escape uneasily, not trusting the sound of it groaning beneath his weight. Though, with how rusted it was, this thing collapsing was the least of his injuries. Slowly, Peter made his way down the steps until he got down to the last platform. It was only a few feet so he safely dropped down into the deserted and foul smelling alley way. He stepped out of the alley and onto the street, noticing how there were barely any people.
In fact, the street itself looked like it had been abandoned for a while. Many different buildings were in various stages of disrepair. Buildings and sidewalks covered in spray paint. Windows boarded up and those that weren’t had already been broken. He peered into one of the buildings, using the yellow-tinged light from a nearby street lamp to see inside. There was debris covering the floor, the shelves stripped bare of anything they might’ve once held. Ransacked.
Moving on, Peter continued down the street, arms wrapped tightly around himself to try and conserve as much heat as possible. The quietness of the street compared to the rest of the loud and chaotic city was unnerving. But since his spider-sense has stayed at a low hum, not peaking once since he’s been here, Peter allowed himself to relax just a bit.
Continuing down the street, Peter searched for a building in alright shape. He wasn’t picky, but he does wish to find a building that has no risk of falling on top of him. He’s already had a building collapse onto him and Peter didn’t exactly want to experience a second building collapsing on him. Finally, though, close to the end of the street was a small, out of the way, building. It looked more like a cargo container, but it had clearly once been used as a living space at one time.
He circled around the cargo container once, taking in the modifications that had been done to it. Windows had been put in, though boarded up now, and there was an actual door on the side. He listened intently, but after hearing no signs of anyone being inside, he tentatively opened the door, relieved it was unlocked.
A quick glance inside and Peter spotted a small, camping cot pressed against the back wall with an old and dusty sleeping bag strewn across it. On the adjacent wall was a raggedy table with only a few things scattered about like pencils and paper. And lastly, at the foot of the cot, was a dusty bin. Stepping over, Peter looked through it, pulling out old clothes that smelled of old must.
His nose wrinkled up at the smell, but his body practically jumped with glee at the aspect of clothing. With a sigh, he pulled out a hoodie, a pair of sweat pants, and a jacket. He pulled them on, finding them a bit big, but overall were a good fit. Better than he hoped. Next, he shook off the dust from the sleep back before setting it back on the cot and crawling into it.
He stared up at the metal ceiling of the cargo container, thoughts of who once lived here in his mind. It was clear this place was well lived and that whoever lived here made it a home. Where had they gone? Why did they live? Did they find a better place to live? Or had they been swept beneath the chaotic tide of this city? Peter wasn’t sure and he doubted he would ever find out, but he sincerely hoped that they were alright.
With a yawn, Peter maneuvered onto his side, much to his ribs annoyance, and curled up into a tight ball. Closing his eyes, Peter made a silent promise that he would make good use of this shelter and take care of it in a way of thanks to the person who obviously put so much effort into turning something as bare as a shipping container into a home. Sleep came easier than Peter had expected, and before long, he was unconscious and dreaming of home, of May, of MJ, of Ned, missing them more than ever.
Notes:
Chapter 2 is completed! I definitely spent some time writing it so that it was longer so I hope you all enjoy!
Let me know what you think about the chapter and if you like my characterizations of the characters who have had a POV so far (Peter and Jason only at this point). How do you like my hinting at Peter's spideriness? Let me know your thoughts! I love reading what y'all comment and I love it when y'all make guesses or theories or ask questions! :3
Also, for Jason's relationship with the Batfamily, I picked and grabbed different pieces from different sources. I want him and the family to be alright and mostly made up, but still present a very complicated dynamic cause let's be honest, the Batfamily are complicated and they are going to have disagreements or be tense, but also care immensely for each other, just maybe not know how to always express that. I will explore this more later on (and hopefully do it justice) but not too much since this fic is Peter centric but with many different POVs :3
Anyways, that all I have to say for this! Please kudos if you like the story so far and have a great day/night!! <333
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Last Edited Mon 15 Sep 2025 05:45PM UTC
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