A Spider in Gotham

Peter watched the older alternate versions of himself. A golden glow surrounded them both. He raised his hand in a wave. The world around him shifted, changing from the foot of the statue of liberty to some sort of alley. It was warmer than it had been a few moments ago and the sun hadn't set yet.

His suit was gone. He was wearing a Mid-Town T-Shirt, a pair of jeans, and, luckily, a pair of thin converse knockoffs. The alley didn't have any answers. He hopped up to a fire escape before climbing up to the roof. Peter stood on the top of the building to get a good look out at the skyline. One thing was certain, they weren't in New York.

"I really hate magic." Peter grumbled.

A quick pocket tap-down to find his wallet and phone. Usually, his suit was paired with his devices. With it gone he had to do things the old-fashioned way. He pulled out his wallet and took a look inside.

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

Peter scanned the roof for somewhere to put it. He sighed and stuffed it into his pocket. With that done, he moved on to his cellphone.

No bars, GPS, or data connection. From the looks of it even the clock was wrong. Peter muttered to himself.

He needed to figure out where he was. A gas station, or convenience store would be a good place to start. They usually had maps. First, 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. He had just graduated High School if that counted wherever here was. Not that it would have counted after the spell. His work experience with the Stark Internship was gone too. Honestly, that had mostly been a cover for his time as Spider-Man and working in the lab with Tony.

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 police grade, 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.

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

"It's the cheap stuff." The clerk shrugged. "Shit against anything. Won't 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.

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?" The clerk gawked at him.

"No." Peter said slowly.

"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.

"What do you want?" Peter turned to face them.

"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. Except not one of them had a full clown outfit.

"You're really going to mug me for a first aid kit and five bucks?" Peter asked.

"Did I stutter?" Jumbo growled.

Logically, Peter knew he should just drop the bag and walk away. He didn't need the trouble. On the other hand, he still had some pent-up anger he needed 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. Hell, it looked like he had lost his entire world. Now these clowns wanted to take even more from him.

Peter sprang forward, kicking Jumbo in the chest. The big clown flew a couple of feet before coming down hard on the sidewalk. He 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. "Seen any good movies lately?"

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, grabbing the extended arm, and tossing 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. He tossed him into the same wall Bozo had gone.

"Not movie buffs?" Peter asked. "What about books? I need to catch up on some reading. Just don't have enough time for it these days."

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.

"I'll read just about anything." Peter backhanded Dum, sending him twisting in the air. "Except for political thrillers."

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.

"How many times can democracy fall to thunderous applause?" Peter shook his head. "It's like, do something original guys."

"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."

Peter checked his plastic bag. Still intact. He grinned as 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.

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. It was about eighty miles south of New York, which put him in Jersey. He may have taken a few shots to the head recently, but he knew they didn't exist in his world. The other big change was that instead of D.C. was a city called Metropolis.

"We're not in Kansas anymore." Peter sighed.

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, 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. They didn't have any room to talk. Practically every one of the guys that came over from the other universes had been killed. Otto had drowned, Osborn had been impaled, and Flint he wasn't sure about. 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.

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.
Tune in to the dedicated radio here. 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. He didn't have his suit, web-shooters, or web-fluid. 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. It wouldn't be the first time he made his gear by digging through the trash. Until then he would have to adjust to being strong and sticky.

~
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