A Spider in Gotham Chapter 5

Peter sat in a booth toward the back of a diner. He had found the place on his way back to the shelter. The convenience store hotdogs were not filling, nor tasty. He practically floated like a cartoon once he caught the scent of this place. The waitress hadn't been over to take his order yet. It looked like there was only one lady working. He wasn't going to complain. Plus, it gave him some time to think.

He set the card on the table. His map was back at the shelter which meant the address was useless. The name made him want to laugh.

The Iceberg Lounge is owned by a guy named the Penguin. This place was wild. He seriously doubted that Doctor Octopus had a hideout called The Aquarium. His own themed bad guy encounter, Vulture, was given the name after the fact. He didn't want to think about Mysterio, that guy was an asshole.

That guard had called him a meta, which Peter took to mean enhanced. Most likely, that meant that the fights were for people with powers. He didn't have any real training. Sure, he had been in plenty of fights against bad guys with powers and aliens, but it wasn't like he was a boxer on top of all that. He trusted the tingle and just went with it. Peter also relied on his webs in the thick of things.

Unless they fought in a dome he'd be stuck on the ground. He'd be out of his element with nothing to fall back on except for moves he'd either seen Cap and Black Widow do, or professional wrestling. Granted, the pro wrestling moves could do some real damage. It took a lot of work to do that stuff and keep injuries to a minimum. They were like stunt actors that put on shows multiple times a week without wires, crash pads, or protective gear.

He would have loved to powerbomb Goblin through some a few floors.

"Hey sweetie." A flirty voice snapped him out of his brooding. "What can I get you?"

Peter looked up to see an older woman waiting at the edge of his table.

"A burger, fries, and a soda, please." Peter said.

"Metropolis?" She asked.

"Hm?" Peter cocked his head to the side.

"Your accent." She clarified. "You should head back there. This ain't no place for a kid."

"Thanks." Peter schooled his expression. "I'm legal."

"Mmhm." The waitress didn't sound convinced. Her eyes drifted to the card on the table in front of him. The small bit of kindness in her expression dropped. "Where did you get that?"

"Thug in tactical gear gave it to me." Peter didn't see the point in lying.

"Stay away from there." The waitress said. "They don't let you go unless you're in a body bag." She shuddered. "Sometimes not then."

Peter nodded. "Thanks."

"No problem, sweetie." The waitress hurried back to the window to the kitchen.

The people in Gotham were a strange mix of equal parts compassionate and jaded. Peter didn't know if someone would try to mug him or give him directions to a soup kitchen. He scanned the other patrons in the diner. Most of them had the look of day laborers like he was. There were a few guys who looked like they had the remnants of clown make-up that had been hastily scrubbed off. One of them would keep a lookout while the others ate. He got the feeling that they wouldn't be in for a good time if they got caught in this neighborhood.

Peter needed to figure out what to do for money. Accepting the offer on the card was not a good idea judging by the reaction of the waitress. He couldn't keep thinking like he was home. What he needed was more information. He didn't think it was the kind that he could get from a trip to the library either. Then again, this was a place that suggested the type of gasmasks that people should buy to keep safe.

The waitress came back with his food.

"Excuse me." Peter said before she could leave.

She looked at him with a tired expression.

"Can you tell me how to get to the library?" He asked.

"Sure, sweetie." The woman smiled. "Head to the intersection to the right, four streets up, two over, and one more up. They give kids a free backpack with some supplies if you get there while it's open. Sometimes they look the other way if you need a warm place to sleep too."

Peter sighed. He was too hungry to argue. It wasn't like he had an ID that he could use to show his age. He really needed to get something in order. Which all came back to money. Unfortunately, it would probably mean he'd have to resort to dealing with some shady people too. An ID and maybe a High School Diploma if possible. He didn't think he'd be able to head to college, but he wanted to at least have something to show his minimum level of education.

The food was tasty and he made sure to leave good tip when he left too. He organized his thoughts on his way to the library. News articles were a good place to start. He could use those to identify possible leads. If nothing else, it would give him an area of the city to start exploring.

It wasn't until he walked the third pawn shop that another idea came to mind. Peter stopped in front of the latest one. All things considered; the place looked pretty nice for a pawn shop. It was well-lit, there were a couple of security camera, and the door had magnetic locks.

Peter backtracked a couple of blocks to another shop that wasn't as inviting. This one wasn't nearly as well lit. Thick metal bars covered the windows that worked as a deterrent and to obscure any casual glances trying to see what was inside. Just looking at it made him want to take a shower.

He stepped inside to find two guys waiting behind the counter. One guy looked like the average shop owner, if a little more on the wary side, while the other was simply there to look imposing. The shotgun across his lap helped in that regard.

"What do you want kid?" The guy who wasn't visibly armed asked.

Peter strolled over to the counter without bothering to look at what the shop had on display.

"I need documents." He said simply.

"Go to the library." The guy gave a harsh laugh.

"You know what I mean." Peter didn't rise to the bait.

"No." The guy said firmly. "Tell me exactly what you need."

"I need a working ID and social security card." Peter clarified. "I'm not looking to pretend I'm twenty-one to get drunk. I just need to prove I exist on paper."

The guy studied him for a long moment. He looked to the armed man.

"You're not a cop." The armed man stated. "Papers that will hold up aren't cheap."

"How much?" Peter asked with a sigh.

"Five hundred for the ID." The armed man answered. "One grand for the social."

Peter blew out a long breath.

"What do you need an ID for anyway?" The first guy asked.

"A job." Peter answered. "A place to stay."

"This is Gotham, all you need is cash for that." The guy scoffed.

Peter waved a hand at himself. "Do I look like I have cash?"

The guy shrugged.

"You could work down at the docks." The armed man offered. "They don't ask questions. Just be sure you don't ask any."

That was the second time someone had mentioned the docks.

"Either way." The armed man continued. "Fifteen hundred for the documents. All in advance."

"Looks like I'm going to the docks." Peter said with a sigh.

He waved as he left the shop. The duo watched Peter go.

"I give him a week before he heads back to Metropolis." The armed man said once the door was closed.

"A week?" The other guy snorted. "Two days, tops. He'll be dead in a week."

The thug at the construction site had mentioned the docks and now the pawn shop guy had as well. Whatever was going on there didn't sound like it was of the legal variety. The first thing that came to mind was smuggling. Using a legitimate traffic to cover the shady import and export was pretty standard. Criminals could move stolen goods, weapons, drugs, and even people among the freight headed to supermarket shelves.

If his experience with Vulture anything close to normal, that meant a lot of cash changing hands.

Peter meandered through the streets. Eventually he found himself at a thrift store. He grabbed a basket and began to idly browse the shelves. It wasn't until he found himself in the sporting goods section that he realized what he was doing. Peter stood in front of a display for biker masks. There were half-face styles as well as the classic balaclava.

There was a black half-face mask with a spider-web pattern. He had to get it. The shelf next to it had gloves. An off-brand set of black moto-cross gloves went in the basket as well. He didn't have enough money to get a new pair of shoes as well, but he would need a clothes. A pair of black compression leggings and red basketball shorts were next. He ended his shopping spree with a red hoody. It was close to his home-made suit that he had first used. The main difference being that the blue had been replaced with black and he didn't have any goggles.

Peter took a spot in line and waited. The lady at the register stopped once she rang up the mask.

"This rated as a filter." She said holding it up.

"It's to keep my face warm." Peter replied.

The lady shrugged. She finished ringing everything up and moved to the next customer. Peter wrapped the bag tightly into a ball, taking time to make sure all of the air was out, and tucked it against his side. He didn't want a repeat of his first night again. There was one more stop before he was ready for tonight. A free backpack from the library wouldn't raise any eyebrows if he was carrying it.

Was it still stealing if he was taking money from criminals? Yes, it was. Peter was having a hard time caring. It had been a long week.

He wasn't going to be knocking over some mom-and-pop store. His plan was to steal money from criminals. It wasn't heroic. He didn't have an expansive plan to shake the underworld by the core. It was stealing, plain and simple. They stole it from someone, he was stealing it from them.