Chapter Text
On a random Wednesday, Peter Parker lost everything, and the world gained back everything.
Peter Parker lost everything, figuratively? He hope so. Really he does, but the universe seems to be raising its asteroids on him to form a middle finger and shove its ass because Peter meant it in a way that he’s truly lost, and was utterly confused.
He lost his biological parents from as long he can remembered, lost his Uncle Ben and like the reason and the solace why Spider-Man exist. He lost Aunt May, He lost his foster father- (Oh Mr. Stark- look to what I have become-)
From his keys to pennies and even his clothes. Peter Parker lost a lot, but being thrown and lost to another world is a recent addition to his 'lost and never found' list.
It all started with a battle, it always does. Everything started in mystery then baam! Mysterio!
The world burned around him.
Flames danced along the broken infrastructures like a cursed tango but every time it held hands with someone, they turned into ashes. A sight that Spider-Man became familiar with as a hero. The night sky of New York was bleeding light — red, green, gold. (he's also bleeding- Karen yelling his aching vitals and reminding him to retreat, Spider-Man would if Iron Man was still around to give him lectures, but Tony is not here. So who's gonna stop him? If Tony got the balls to reconfigured his atoms and miraculously arrived to drag Peter away, he would happily obliged- heck,he would jump to Tony's arms and will listen or even take notes on his upcoming lectures. But he's dead. lost. not here anymore, so that's a him problem, not his.)
Peter Parker - no, Spider-Man - stumbled forward through the chaos, one lens of his mask shattered, ribs aching with every breath. His webs ran dry while in the midst of the air and sending him crashing onto a collapsed billboard.
'Iron Man, the greatest hero.'
Oh.
He crashed into one of Tony's advertisement billboard and he can feel the hitch on his throat- the burning sensation from his eyes seeing his mentor foolish smile plastered and was ripped apart on the billboard.
"I definitely heard my knees cracked, Karen. I know,stop fusing. I can still walk pretty fine.” He mumbled in response with Karen concerned- or how much an AI can sounded so worried about his current status which is not great-
….Danger! Stay away! Coming!….
Oh for godsake fuck, give him a break.
Through his vision, a man- no a disco ball?? A fish bowl that's dressed like a disco ball, green bodysuit tight enough to make yoga pants jealous and Peter would even compliment his ass if not for such an ass situation he's currently in. Spider-Man stood up and tried to back away but a voice came, calm and venom-sweet.
"You never learned to see the truth, Spider-Man. You still think the world is real."
Peter’s blood ran cold.
He turned -and Mysterio stepped out of the haze. His armor was cracked, sparks flickering beneath the fishbowl helmet, but his stance was steady and cocky. The drones hovered behind him like a chorus of silent eyes.
“Mysterio…” Peter hissed, forcing himself upright. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
Quentin Beck laughed softly. “Oh, I am. Maybe, maybe not. That’s the beauty of illusion - even death can be rewritten.”
God, he sounds like a philosopher or a mad scientist to a borderline theater kid on your local high school musicals.
The drones shifted, projecting flickering shapes - faces Peter knew by heart. Aunt May smiling through the smoke. Ned’s laugh, faint and distant. Tony’s voice, tired but warm,“You did good, kid.”
…fake..!! not real…!! focus!..
Peter’s throat tightened. “Don’t. Don’t do this.”
Mysterio tilted his head, hands clasped behind his back like a stage performer mid monologue. “Why not? You spend your whole life losing people, Peter. And every time, you keep pretending it’s noble. It’s not. It’s cruel.”
The holograms sharpened - May reaching out, Tony nodding.
“What if,” Beck said, stepping closer, “you didn’t have to lose anymore? What if you could bring them back?”
Peter froze. His heart skipped a beat. “You can’t.”
“Can’t?” Beck echoed, amused. “You’ve seen gods, aliens, multiverses, magic. And you think this is where the impossible stops?”
The air hummed as he lifted a device from his belt — small, almost delicate, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat under glass.
"All you have to do… is say yes.”
Peter’s hands trembled. He wanted to move, to fight, to say something clever or angry - but all he could do was stare. The light from the device reflected off the cracked lens of his mask, painting his face in sickly green. His mind is a bit foggy, he can't even hear Karen on his comms or the flames catching up on his back. All he can do was stare at those familiar faces- (whom he saw die, carry their corpses, give speeches on their burials and hear their last words.)
Mysterio smiled behind the glass. “Go on, Spider-Man. Save them all. You’ve always wanted to, haven’t you?”
Fuck it. He can even barely count the people who knew him because Peter always lost them. Isn't its actually preferable for the world to forget him and to revive thosee people that shouldn't be forgotten?
Even if Peter doesn't agree, he have an inkling feelings already that Mysterio would not leave him alone. He’ll likely torment more people until Spider-Man agreed. Make Peter lost more people he cared about just for this man to offer a too good to be true deal which is to bring back those who were dead? Bullshit. But here he is.
Isn't this actually a good deal? His spider sense is not sending out any hints of lies or deceits behind this man's words. And who is Peter to refuse to such fantasy? If all his words are the truth (Peter should know better- villains can't be trusted- his mentors etched it into his minds) then it's for the future Peter to deal with, if its not. Then he's sure the worse thing could happened was dying.
"Come on, itsy bitsy spider, don't you always climbed the spout again?" Mysterio taunted.
"Don't ruined my favorite nursery rhymes, you fish bowl."
Despite Karen's screaming, his spider sense causing him a migraines-
Peter’s fingers brushed the device - and in that instant, the ground split.
Reality fractured. The world around him tore apart like shattered film stock, like a boken films buildings folding in on themselves, colors draining into black. He reached out for something -anything -but there was only cold, roaring silence.
Then, nothing.
The rain washes the itsy bitsy spider,
the question is,
Will he climbed up the waterspout again?
None of us could tell.
zZz
Peter consented on having everyone's memories about him erased in the narrative, he doesn't fucking consented on being erased and thrown into another narrative, or kidnapped and thrown into another world like your regular isekai bullshit.
But well here we are.
The rain in Gotham- (he learned her name through the mouth of its residents tat gave him a sideway glances as if seeing a kid limping and bruise is your regular shows here) didn’t fall.
It attacked.
Sharp, sideways, and so so gloomy- like the city itself wanted Peter Parker gone before it learned his name. Each drop stung his skin as it mixed with the faint copper of blood on his lip, and he swore the wind carried laughter -not kind laughter, but the kind that echoed in alleys right before something terrible happened. He heard others whispers that laughter is connected to a rogue named Joker who terrorize this city, which is- okay?
Heard others to always bring coats and be aware of the cold because Mr. Freeze might be behind them, run when you heard a coin flicking, don't mess up with the plants and to always own a gun.
Gotham didn’t hum like New York.
It growled. Low, hungry, and too alive.
And Peter - wet, bruised, out of webs, and about three existential crises past his limit - walked straight into the growl like an idiot.
Great. Brilliant move, Parker.
He’d chased Mysterio through illusions and agreed on these cliche plotline "everyone forget you but everyone is alive" - and when he blinked, he was here. A city with no Avengers Tower, no Daily Bugle, no home. Just cracked brick walls and graffiti that looked like prayers no one answered anymore.
Encountering muggers is the only thing that's missing.
The city obliged.
…danger! people!…
His spider sense rang as if a radar.
And now, of course, there were muggers.
Because apparently, the multiverse hated him enough to keep testing his patience.
“Yo, kid,” one of them called out, stepping from the shadows. He had that typicallook -gaunt face, twitchy eyes and Peter would even go on the length to describe him as an NPC that doesn't make it pass on the first ten chapters. “That’s a nice bag. You lost, huh?”
Peter exhaled slowly, he found that bag on some trash bin, his fingers tightening on the strap of his backpack.
Yeah, lost? something like that. Lost across the worlds. Lost without anyone left to call. Lost in every way that mattered. And by gods, I don't even know if Mysterio words is the truth and if Aunt May and Tony is alive.
"What you got in that bag, kid?" The man with a beard accompanying the the mugger no.1 appeared and taunted, looking down at him.
“Uh, trauma, probably. Maybe half a protein bar if you’re lucky.”
The biggest one sneered, mugger no. 3, a gold tooth catching what little light the street offered. “Typical, Gimme the bag.”
Peter’s lips curled in a sharp grin. “How about no?”
The mugger took a threatening step forward, voice dropping into a growl. “You think you’re funny, huh?”
“Oh, no,” Peter said, tone is calm, and annoyed. Mostly annoyed, Spider-Man does not exist here, but that doesn’t mean that Peter Parker can't retaliate like Spider-Man because surprised! Peter Parker is Spider-Man! Identity porn is over folks, catch these hands if you can! “I know I am. It’s kinda my whole thing.”
That did it.
The man lunged, fist raised - and Peter moved before his brain could remind him to stay hidden. His muscles remembered faster than he did- his muscles aches and probably forgot to control it- the angles, the precision, the speed that came with spider instinct.
He sidestepped the punch, caught the guy’s wrist, and twisted -not enough to break it, but enough to make him regret it. but also, Peter regret it- fuck. A normal kid was not supposed to move like that. But what are they gonna do? Another one came at him, knife glinting, and Peter’s body tensed, ready to strike back and give back what they deserved- a good punching and the ones those assholes wouldn’t be able to forget that a kid beat them into a pulp and to just end them for once, to let himself hit something until the ache in his chest stopped.
Peter stopped,
….hi! friend! safe!…
But then the shadows shifted.
Something fell from above.
"Coming through!"
Not a sound, not a breath - just a shape landing in perfect silence that if a presence could speak, it would probably spelled you were dead before you knew I was here.
And then it was chaos, Peter stilled as he watched a blur of black and blue and a bird etched on its chest- and true to it, the figure moved like a bird- agile as one. A sharp crack of a baton, then came a grunt from those who had underestimated him and bodies hitting the wall that Peter could guess it will take a month even with his healing factor to heal.
The muggers didn't stand a chance.
When it was over, the alley was littered with groaning bodies and the smell of dirt. The stranger stood there, chest rising slow and steady, escrima sticks spinning lazily between his fingers like he hadn’t just dismantled three armed men in under ten seconds.
"That's a good warm-up." The man murmured, oh also, nice ass but anyways- the man turned to him and smiled oh and is it just Peter or there's like ray of sunshines accompanying him like a props? "You okay, kiddo?"
Peter blinked up at him, dripping, unimpressed but also - okay, a little impressed.
The guy was in a sleek spandex, black with a luminous blue bird crest that cut across his chest and with a fluid confidence. His mask was simple, domino shaped and you can feel his sincerity even with them, the man looked like he was born in the dark and decided to make it look good. This is exactly what Peter always imagined to become when their values teacher would tasked them to visualize their future self.
“Are you alright?” the man asked, voice smooth but steady, with that faint rasp of exhaustion and the one Peter is familiar with- like Captain America- the kind of voice that had seen too much but kept choosing kindness anyway.
Peter frowned. “Perfectly fine, uhhh mister? Well unless you would throw me in the walls and smack me with those sticks, I'll be not, but other than that. I'm still alive but not kicking because I broke my knee."
That earned him a quiet laugh- did Peter seriously make him laugh? He thought so, he's so funny (Take that mugger no.1!) "Don't worry, I won't. You're a kid. Just call me Nightwing. And Nightwing only do that-" he pointed to those muggers moaning in pain. "to bad guys, alright? So if you are with a bad guy and he's hurting you, always resist until Nightwing comes and teach them a lesson for you. Right, kiddo?"
“Nightwing, because you only come out at night and you dropped from the sky so you gotta have wings, right?” Peter muttered to himself absentmindedly, hey, he's not the one to judge. Spider-Man ain't any better but god forbids Peter have some fun with other worlds heroes, then he glances down at the unconscious men. “So, uh… Would I'll be the one to cover their hospital fees or you? Hate to break it but I'm broke."
The man huffed through his nose, smirk tugging at his lips. “Don't worry about it,pretty sure the Waynes would cover up their hospital bills.” Nightwing kneeled to make him small in front of Peter. "Plus, we got more to get concern about, aren't we?"
Peter blinked. “A police report?"
Nightwing just chuckled. “Your broken knee.”
Peter eyes widened and scoffed, tugging his hood tighter. “I don't want to go hospital, Mr. Nightwing. If you force me, I'm going to run away. You never saw a person with a broken knee run as if he's on a marathon, right? Well, you're boutta to if you force me.”
Peter is serious, he is. No hospitals, he doesn't even exist here.
Nightwing seems taken a back, and contemplates, "Okay, no hospitals. But where's your house, or your guardian? I can take you to them."
My house is like three billions lights away from here,my guardians are dead- or hopefully alive, they must be alive. They must be. And no, even if I want to, you can't take me to them.
But, Peter can't say that, can he?
So he does something he's good at.
Lying.
"I'm not from here."
Nightwing said, eyebrow raised behind the mask. “Yeah, figured. You don’t sound like you’re from Gotham,” he said, careful. “You got that… accent, and presence that Gothamites doesn't usually possessed.”
Whatever that means.
“Yeah, well,” Peter sighed, kicking at a puddle, “I tend to get lost in places I shouldn’t be.”
“Let me guess, you're from Metropolis or New York?” Nightwing guessed.
Peter blinked.
Who the fuck named a place, Metropolis?
He can say he's from New York, but that's not fun? Being in another world and there's a city or place that doesn't exist in your own is screaming at him to just go Peter the Explorer.
He didn’t know what that meant, he didn't know where it is, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah, I'm from Metrapolis." Peter tried not to visibly cringe. "I got lost, took a wrong taxi and woke up here."
That got him another chuckle - quieter this time, almost fond. “You're a brave kid for surviving. Thank you for being strong, kiddo. You shouldn’t be out here, you need to go back. Gotham’s not… kind.”
“Neither’s life,” Peter muttered under his breath.
Nightwing tilted his head, like he caught it but chose not to push. “Where are your parents, kid?”
Peter froze.
The rain filled the silence for him.
He thought of Aunt May’s smile.
Of Tony’s hand on his shoulder.
Of the quiet spaces where both used to exist.
Ned's mumbling abou legos.
MJ teasing.
The avengers sharing laughters with him on the dinner table.
New York skyline that's always brimming with hope and what Peter swore to protect.
“They’re probably looking for me,” he lied, voice small but steady. “I’ll find them.”
Nightwing didn’t call him out, thanks Loki. He just nodded. “Alright. Let’s get you somewhere safe before someone worse finds you.”
They walked in silence after that, a little slower. Nightwing is considerate enough to not rush forward for his broken knee and professional enough to not carry him like a baby. Gotham’s skyline loomed ahead, jagged and monstrous, swallowing what little light there was. Every corner whispered danger, but somehow, walking beside Nightwing made it bearable. Having someone from Gotham wherein his spider sense is comfortable with definitely helped.
“When’s the last time you ate?” Nightwing glanced at him asked quietly.
Peter shrugged. “Food’s kinda optional when you're lost to a city you never been before,”
“Not when you’re fourteen,” Nightwing replied simply.
That stopped Peter short. “I'm sixteen,”
Nightwing’s tone softened. “You look younger.”
Peter snorted. “And you look ancient.”
Nightwing makes an exaggerated offended expression, "I'm only on my late twenties!"
"Exactly."
They reached the edge of the city, where the flickering lights of a busier district promised fewer knives and more people. A small taxi idled under a streetlamp.
Nightwing pulled out a few bills, pressed them into Peter’s hand, then added a handful of candy from one of his belt pouches — the cheap kind, cherry and lemon-flavored.
Peter stared. “You’re bribing me with sugar? Wait, how do you carry them?”
“Call it a reward- I carry them through my utility belt.” Nightwing said, grinning. “A reward for staying strong, being alive and surviving despite getting lost into one of the hell hole in this entire world. A reward for a good kid like you."
Peter blinked down at the candy. His throat tightened unexpectedly- it wasn't supposed to mean a lot. But damn, it is. It struck a part of his heart that's been tired and Peter swore to steeled with iron but - the heart is just a fickle thing. Peter barely keep his composure because he's not meant to feel this relief by just being recognized, seen- by a stranger no less. Peter keep his head down, trying to find his grounds. He's not a baby for fuck's sake.
He's also Spider-Man.
And Spider-Man is always cool.
"Peter."
"Hmm?"
"My name is Peter."
“A fitting name for someone so brave. Peter, have some candies.” Nightwing shot back, smiling faintly.
Peter laughed - just once, rough and real.
"Thanks, Nightwing."
Nightwing availed a taxi that was reliable enough to drive him to Metropolis. Peter insist he knows his way around and his supposed-to-be destination is just near the borders (he knows more alleys in Gotham than Metrapolis because he's never been there). And yes, Peter will get his broken knee treated once he arrived. And yes, he can handle himself. Nightwing reminds him of someone who used to fuse about him and is currently living on his memories- (he's alive, Tony's been revived in exchange of Peter sacrifices.)
Then he climbed into the taxi, clutching the candy like it was something more than sugar.
“Thanks,” he said. “For, uh… saving me. It's nice to meet you, Nightwing.”
Nightwing smirked. “Anytime, Peter. Stay safe, yeah? Don't return here. Superman will protect you in Metrapolis. He chase bad guys away there. Really cool guy. And if someone asked you about Batman- tell him Nightwing’s still cooler.”
"Yeah, okay. Thank you, Nightwing."
The taxi pulled away, tires hissing against wet asphalt. Peter turned in his seat to look back, watching the blue crest fade into the mist until all that was left was rain.
He unwrapped a candy, let the sweetness burn his tongue, and leaned his head against the window. The city outside blurred into streaks of gold and gray.
…Goodbye! See you!…
“Metropolis,” he muttered. “Yeah, sure.”
He doesn't know what awaits for him in Metrapolis. But he'll survived that. He will always survive that.
His reflection in the glass looked too young for his likings. He's not a child, he can do this. He will figured it out. Go back to his own world to see if everything Mysterio uttered is real. He might be forgotten- but having a glimpse of May and hugging her even though he's certain that she will call cops on him will be enough. Witnessing Iron Man on TV again, Tony on various advertisements and being the center of the news as always will be enough for the sacrifices he done. Peter Parker might not exist, but Spider-Man will always webbed his way to the world because he's inamitable and and will always rise to protect.
He can live that, probably
Spiders might not like the rain, but they will always try to climb the waterspout again. The candies are good, Peter briefly wondered what brand is it.
zZz
"This is Metrapolis, lad. Your get off."
…okay!…alright…!
The taxi stopped,Peter wheezed like it was on its last breath before stopping, doors creaking open with a sigh that matched Peter’s own. He stepped down onto the cleanest sidewalk he’d seen since the moment he step foot in this estranged world.
The air was warm, too warm.
And then he looked up-
And it hit him, this wasn’t Gotham anymore.
"Talk about sunshine and rainbows." Peter eyes scanned the new place. And holy- Metrapolis is actually a metrapolis that is habitable?
Metropolis glowed like someone had installed a permanent golden hour filter over the entire skyline. Glass buildings caught the sun and threw it back in arrogant shards of light. The streets were alive, not with screams, but chatter-casual, human chatter. The kind you only hear in places where people believe they’ll see tomorrow.
Gotham had been heavy that Peter started to wondered why people are wiling to live in that place.
Gotham is a constant inhale of rot and iron. Its people moved like ghosts who’d made peace with being haunted. But here? Peter wondered how everyone walked like the world was theirs. The difference was so sharp it made his chest ache and confusion arose. Of course, he's not that dumb to entirely believe a place can be this safe- or perfect like paradise because there's no such thing as perfect- even in another world. After all, Nightwing had said about a hero-Superman? Like Spiderman? Peter briefly wondered how could someone come up with that name. Spiderman came to be because he got spiders motifs but Superman? What made him a super man?
'Is he like a super soldier like Captain?'
Peter continued walking as a kid on a skateboard zoomed past him, laughing. A street vendor called out, offering hot dogs with actual smiles. Metrapolis is strange, it felt like it's the older brother of Queens who always seems have lots of things to tell- to chatter about. Peter felt like he can get to know Metrapolis.
…hi! friend!…okay..!
Peter wasn’t looking where he was going and collided shoulder first with a stranger.
“Oh-sorry!” he blurted, as he picked up and helped the lady to get her papers that was thrown on the floor- Good job, Peter. First day and you're already causing troubles.
“Oh, honey, it's fine,oh-" A woman in her late thirties, maybe early forties, dark hair pinned back but still a little wild - like it refused to be tamed no matter how professional she looked. A gray coat draped over one arm, a press badge glinting near her lapel and an ID with a logo of 'Daily Planet' "Are you okay- obviously, you are not but-” she asked, eyes darting to the gash on his cheek, the dried blood on his sleeve and his knees. (Peter can walk finer than before, his healing factor overworking and he felt that by the way his stomach was growling like Jacob Black which Peter ignored since he can't afford to care for foods especially after being thrown in Gotham out of all places.)
Peter blinked. For a moment, he forgot how to answer.
“I—0-uh. Yeah. Totally fine. Just, you know, PE sucks, Ma'am.”
The woman didn’t look convinced, “There’s a clinic on Park and Fifth,” she said gently. "I can take you there, kid. You look… lost.”
No shit sherlock.
Lost.
Yeah. That about summed it up.
"No- I'm alright, Ma'am, I can go there by myself. I don't want to bother, working hours is about to start, don't want to be someone's reason on you being late." He said and offered a smile, the lady isn't still entirely convinced but her phone rang up.
"Fine- but here-" she handed Peter a card that says "Lois Lane" with a number beneath that. "If you need help kid, just phone me up, yeah? There's several telephone booth that offered free services."
How kind.
"Thank you, Miss Lane!" Peter blurted out and wave his hands while the lady just smiled at him and waved back- "Stay safe, kid!" and she answered his phone, "i'm just gonna grab a coffee on my way there, Clark. Don't worry-"
He nodded, mumbling thanks before walking away, hands deep in his pockets. His reflection flickered across every shining surface. He didn’t stop moving. The city was too open, too bright. He kept expecting shadows to crawl out of corners, but there weren’t any. Just glass, sun, and smiling faces- and is that a squirrel-. Even the cops had polite body language.
And that was terrifying.
Metropolis wasn’t just another city-it was everything Gotham wasn’t.
…there!…
Peter’s steps slowed in front of a building made of white stone and blue glass
Metropolis Central Library
it carved elegantly above its doors.
A library.
He doesn't need sympathy or hospitals- (maybe he does, but healing factor plot armor exist for a reason) what he needs is information.
“What could possibly go wrong?” He murmured and forcing himself up the steps.
Inside, the air was cool and quiet. Rows of computers gleamed like portals waiting for the lost. Peter could almost feel his pulse calm—almost. He passed by a “No Food or Drink” sign, pretending not to notice the librarian giving him the same look you’d give a stray cat that wandered into a Starbucks. He's totally a normal Metrapolis kid who's been injured because of PE in school and cut classes because of it. Typical teenagers.
He found an open seat near the back, the hum of a computer filling the silence. His reflection in the black screen stared back—bruised jaw, messy curls, the kind of exhaustion that no caffeine could fix.
“God, I look like a mugshot,” he muttered, tapping the spacebar. The screen blinked awake.
Search bar. Cursor blinking. A tiny, stupid, blinking line that somehow held the weight of everything he didn’t understand.
He typed: Avengers.
Enter.
No results.
He expected that anyways.
He frowned, tried again: Stark Industries.
Nothing.
Then: Queens, New York – heroes.
A loading bar.
He typed again: Metrapolis
Superman Intercepts Meteor Headed for South America - NASA Credits His Swift Action.
“Lois Lane Investigates LexCorp’s Alleged Connection to S.T.A.R. Labs Accidents.”
“Public Trust in Superman at Record High - City Council Proposes ‘Superman Day’ Celebration.”
Lex Luthor Announces New Anti-Alien Defense Program - Critics Call It ‘Veiled Threat' - Jimmy Olsen
Lex Luthor: ‘The Future Belongs to Human Innovation, Not Alien Intervention.’
‘The Man of Tomorrow Reminds Us What Humanity Can Aspire To.’ - Clark Kent
Nothing that looked even remotely familiar.
He leaned back in his chair, pulse hammering. “Luthor… what the hell is a Luthor and Superman?"
He supposed that even heroes exist here, Superman is one of them. Nightwing as well.
Peter wondered how different or similar it is to his Earth.
He typed: Heroes
A wikipedia with a title "Justice League" emerged. Peter, intrigued, clicked.
The photo stretched across the top of the article,Superman stood front and center, sunlight practically bowing to him. Beside him,a figure- cloaked in shadow, which reminds him of a bat and Peter thought that it would be so funny if his name is like Batman because no way- guy is so edgy since it seems like the camera was lucky to have survived photographing him. A woman so cool- such a wonderful woman- gleamed like a myth forged in bronze and lightning, and behind them were a guy in red spandex with thunder logo, a fucking green highlighter, an aquatic man, and a handful of others whose names Peter didn’t even recognize.
His mouth fell open slightly. “Okay… wow.”
Is this the version of their Avengers?
For a moment, he didn’t even blink. His brain tried to process it all — the colors, the grandeur and what they do.
Peter continued to read, they weren’t just a superhero team; they were the team. The world’s first line of defense against everything too big, too weird, or too apocalyptic for normal people - or even normal heroes -to handle. They weren’t just heroes. They were the idea of heroes Oh my- they had a tower thing orbiting the earth? That was so sick.
“This is, uh…” Peter whispered, leaning closer to the screen, “...definitely not New York.”
Peter clicked the Superman page. The guy is globally recognized superhero based in Metropolis, which isn't anything new to Peter- so he continued reading and he's often hailed as the “Man of Steel.” He is known for his extraordinary strength, cool, Spider-Man got that too, ability to fly, he don't have that but he can swing and its still awesome, invulnerability, super speed, x-ray and heat vision, and his unwavering commitment to truth and justice. He's like a hero, hero okay, Peter is getting the gist of it. He clicked on the villain section,
First that appeared is Lex Luthor. It's always the billionaires, man. Followed by Doomsday, Bizarro,Brainiac,Metallo and more. Superman definitely haven't had it easy. That's for sure.
He clicked on more pages- the wonderful woman is called Wonder Woman, who could ever guess? She reminded him of Thor in a way, and the lasso she possessed is sick! A lie detector on its fullest potential, the Flash- fastest man alive. he's sort of the equivalent of Quicksilver but with commitments, got it. Green Lantern, a space cop- Peter was curious how would the meeting between him and Guardian of the Galaxy would go. Then there's Aquaman, and Atlantis exist here? That's fire. King of the Fishes, Poseidon incarnate, Percy Jackson uncle? Cyborg- well reminds him of Tony- Karen would definitely be interested on this guy.
Then finally,
the section with the least information.
Batman.
It is funny.
What a name, but Peter is not a hypocrite so he doesn't called too much for it. Like c'mon, at least another person understand the potential of a furrysona as heroes or something.
The page loaded to an eerie header photo -a blurry, grainy image of what could’ve been a man, or a gargoyle, crouched on a rooftop. The text beneath read:
The Batman - A vigilante operating out of Gotham City. Unconfirmed sightings span over two decades. Believed to be an urban myth…
Peter let out a short laugh. “An urban myth? How emo can this can go?"
He scrolled down, the article full of conflicting eyewitness reports, crime scene photos, and half-legends. Some said he had wings, others said he was a monster. Peter searched for more- going to Gotham gazettes sites and there's no clear pictures or sightings of Batman other than the ones in the Justice League official pictures. Which is creepy, Peter believed that the guy is a shadow itself- or a shadow that materialize itself and takes on a form? Peter had theories.
He skimmed further, reaching a section titled “Known Associates.”
Names appeared in blue hyperlinks: Robin
Peter blinked. “Robin? Like… the bird?” He clicked.
A list opened up beneath the name, the pictures provided by the site sucks, all of them are blurred or not even recognizable, just how bad are the photojournalist or photographers in Gotham?
Over the years, multiple individuals are believed to have operated under the alias “Robin”, serving as Batman’s partner and symbolizing hope amid Gotham’s darkness. While none have been officially identified, experts generally categorize five confirmed Robins in the vigilante’s timeline — each distinct in method, attitude, and legacy.
First Robin: A bright, agile partner said to be Batman’s first student, wore shorts, flexible and bright.
Second Robin: A rough, angry vigilante from Gotham’s underbelly, rumored to have died young.
Peter frowned, tragic, a lump forming in his throat. Rest in peace.
Third Robin: The 'smart robin' A strategic thinker who mirrored Batman the most.
Fourth Robin: Short-lived but notable Robin, this young woman with blond hair, the first girl Robin.
Fifth Robin: The current Robin, known for his martial prowess and sharp temper.
Then followed by many names- Spoiler, Batwoman, Huntress, Batgirl, Signal, Red Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing.
The photo showed a blurry man in black and blue armor, a mask over his eyes, a grin that didn’t quite hide the weight in his expression.
The article called him “Gotham’s protector, Blüdhaven’s guardian, heir to the Bat.”
Peter exhaled softly, something tight in his chest. “So that’s him,” he whispered. “The guy from the alley…”
Peter stared at the screen.
The guy who’d beaten up those muggers? Who gave him candy and cash and told him to stay safe? That Nightwing?
He skimmed further. Words like acrobat, optimistic, and talented, each one tightening the knot in his chest. He could almost hear the guy’s voice again - warm but firm, the kind that made you feel safe even when you were surrounded by shadows.
He sounded like… Peter hesitated. Like someone I knew.
The familiarity scratched at the back of his mind. Not the face - he hadn’t even seen the guy’s face & but the feeling.
That quiet steadiness, the way he’d crouched down to Peter’s level before speaking, tone gentle but protective.
Like how Mr. Stark used to.
Like how Aunt May always did before she’d tell him to be careful, to come home early, to eat something for once.
Peter’s throat felt tight. He covered it with a soft laugh, pretending it was funny. "Guess every world’s got a guy like him,” he muttered. “The cool, responsible one who makes you wanna do better.”
He scrolled further down, past long paragraphs about Blüdhaven, the Titans, his abilities and associates.
“Man…” Peter rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “He’s like if Tony and Steve had a baby.”
The joke fell flat even to him.
Because beneath the sarcasm was something sharp and small - a pulse of envy, maybe. Or longing. For someone to look at him like that again. (Tony's corpse, fresh on the ground-). For someone to make him feel seen, even when he was drowning in a city of strangers. It's funny, Nightwing is just a stranger.
Peter just shook his head and continue, he learned about meta. Peter is 100% sure he's classified as a meta, theres Teen Titans, Young Justice and it baffled him how many young heroes they got. For as long as Peter can remember, having a hero the same age as his is rare-Spider-Man is the youngest hero Peter known of. Some of them are sidekicks, like the Robins but they also got teams.
It's baffling about how this world had room for the young, the reckless, the ones still trying to find where they belonged.
Peter leaned back, running a hand through his hair, eyes distant.
“Guess it doesn’t matter what world you end up in,” he murmured. “There’s always some kid in a mask trying to make things better.”
Then, he clicked on one of the newspages.
“The most awaited Wayne Gala!"
Something about the article felt strange, tugging at his chest like a memory he didn’t have yet. He squinted at the photos of the Wayne families- Peter got this intution that they felt familiar- as he scrolled down on the article- something caught his attention.
Remarkable attendes this year: LexCorp, Queen Industry, OSCORP.
What the hell? He knew OSCORP- but before he can dig deep and just about to scroll closer to the hints-
….danger! look out…!
A sharp, piercing alarm jolted his spine.
His spidey sense screamed.
“Everyone, get down!” he yelled, voice cutting through the screams.
At the same time, a swarm of mechanical toys erupted from the far end of the library, smashing tables and flying bookshelves like missiles. Red-and-blue flashing lights bounced across the walls. A maniacal voice crackled over a tiny speaker attached to a robotic teddy bear:
“Knowledge is power, and power must be tested!”
“It’s Toyman!” a man hiding under a table screamed, clutching his book to his chest.
Peter didn’t have time to process & his mind fired on instinct- moving on its own as if its his second nature. He can't let these people died- no one needs to die- He's not Spider-man at the moment but he have the greater power, and thus, greater responsibility.
Keep people safe. Prioritize civilians.
….Hi! people! here! scared…!
He vaulted over a fallen shelf and landed near a cluster of terrified kids. “Hello kids, an angry man is shouting and we need to go away because angry men are dangerous right?" He heard them sniffles, nodded weakly- there's four of them. Four, he can do it. "Do you mind if I just-" He scooped out the kids on arms-much to their surprise as they hold on his neck. "Keep calm, alright?"
"I want mama…"
"Go away to that angry man, mister!"
Peter just smiled at them as he continued walking- avoiding the falling debris thanks to his spidersense,
"Follow me! Emergency exit, this way!” he shouted, pointing toward the door labeled in green letters on the far wall- the people who's hiding under table looked up- "If we don't get out here, we will die from an explosion!" Well, actually, there's no bombs, Toyman is outside of the building and somehow hit the library- but these people would die from further damage from the falling debris if they continued to stay longer.
That seems o catch their attention as they scrambled up-
"I don't want to die!"
"Superman will be here-"
"calm down"
"shhh, it'll be alright, son."
"Kid, hand me over the kids, I'll take care of them." A man, who seems reliable enough- emerged.The kids, hesitant at first looked up at him,
"Don't worry, mister here is cool. He'll take you somewhere safe." Peter said as the man heave a smile as the kids jumped to his arms and go to the exit like the others- Peter did not rushed, there's still more people left.
…people! there!…
He dashed to the nearest stack of debris and swung onto a fallen table to get a better view. Using his hands and quick reflexes, he helped the elderly man to his feet. “This way! Keep low!”
The mother with her baby hesitated, tears streaking her face. Peter crouched and pointed toward the faint green EXIT sign glowing above a doorway. “Go! I’ve got you! Now!”
He grabbed the boy’s hand and guided him along the safest path, ducking under a toppled shelf as a robotic duck zipped past, sparks flying from its metal wings. “Watch the toys! Watch the toys!” he warned.
Another civilian tripped over a stack of books. Peter swooped in, lifting her by the arm. “Careful! One step at a time. You’ve got this!”
The small crowd moved as one under Peter’s directions, stepping carefully around debris while he kept an eye on the toys. “Left! Left! Straight! Almost there!”
The people cried out, but they seems determined- Peter can't look at them in the eyes, the expectations- the trust- how could they ever trust him-? He need the mask- enough.
Finally, they reached the emergency exit door. Peter slammed it open and helped the civilians tumble out into the open air. The cool wind hit their faces, and Peter took a breath of relief. “Everyone okay? Keep moving!”
The mother with her baby clutched him tightly. “Thank you! Thank you, young man!”
Peter nodded, smiling faintly, but then-
“My baby! He’s still inside!”
Oh fuck, Peter’s stomach dropped. He froze for just a second, then ran back toward the chaos without hesitation. Dust and sparks filled the air as shelves groaned and cracked. C'mon, he got this. He can do this.
…hi! scared..!
finally,
Behind a fallen table, he found a small boy, clutching a stuffed bear, and trembling. Peter crouched to his level. “Hey, hey… it’s okay. I’m here. We’re going to get out, okay?”
…not safe! not safe!…look out!…
a wall collapsed- trapping them. Shit. Listen- Peter could lift, punch through over the wall- but he can't. He's just an ordinary guy as of the moment, being discovered as a meta is not on his list. Though, he can make the little guy keep a secret- he can't guaranteed it. He can think of that later- what he needed was to keep the kid calm, check over possible injuries.
Peter crouched beside the boy, thinking fast. “Alright… we are safe, hmm? We'll be alright."
"Really?" The boy asked and cuddled closer.
"What's your name, kid? Also, your stuff toy looks amazing- is red your favorite color? Does it have a name?" Peter smiled softly- it's dark- but he needs to reassure the kid-
The boy tilted hummed and nodded, "I'm Ifa… I just turned five." Ifa, the kid held his five finger at him and continued, "Red is my favorite color, it's because I like Flash. He's so fast- and uh Cacucu is not a stuf toy, he's a friend!" the boy responded.
"Does that mean Superman is not your favorite, then? Aww,the big guy would be sad if he knew that." Peter chuckled and ruffle the kid's hair- Ifa just pouted.
"No- not like that! Superman is also one of my favorite!"
…hi friend!…
"I'm so honored to be-"
The rubble groaned beneath them,
"one of your favorite, Ifa."
The large chun of wall that trapped them suddenly moved- and there he is. Superman, who lifted the wall with ease and set it aside.
"Superman?" Peter's flabbers were gasted.
"Superman!" The kid shouted in joy.
“Hold on,” Superman said, his voice deep, steady, and impossibly kind. “I’ve got you.”
…safe!…
Before Peter could even respond, the gentle giant carried him up with one arm, lifting him off the crumbling floor as effortlessly as if he weighed nothing. His other hand extended, and the boy was gently lifted into it, held safely against Superman’s chest.
"Are you alright, sweethearts?"
…safe! cool..! wow….! friend…! hi!…
It's not helping that his spider sense is comfortable with him and greeting him like an old friend you would encountered in Manhattan. This guy- is so cool. Man, he's literally flying with Superman! He's not a jerk, that's for sure. Peter might be hallucinating but the sun felt like accompanying him wherever he goes. Totally so cool.
Peter’s legs dangled awkwardly as Superman held him effortlessly in one arm and the little boy in the other. His heart was hammering in a mix of awe and adrenaline, and his voice came out in a strangled, nervous rush. "That was so super, man."
Superman stared at him,
Peter avoided it.
Superman laughed-
wait- he laughed?
"Thank you, you're also so super, there."
Peter swallowed. “Right. Right-” He wiped dust off his mask, still trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably. “So… uh… you heard us shouting, right? Like, the whole thing? That’s… insane.”
“Yes,” Superman said gently, glancing down at him. “Your call was heard. I focused on you and the boy first.”
Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “Focus? Like… selective hearing or… super selective hearing?” He blinked rapidly, trying to think of how it's possible. “Because… wow. That’s… impressive.” Peter felt so awkward, send help. Peter is having that Deja Vu when he first saw Thor- his awakening and he can feel Michelangelo spirit rolling down from the graves and giggling like a high school girl with him or something similar when he first met Captain America and he was jumping on his feet-
it literally felt the same way with Superman.
Superman smiled faintly at Peter’s sass. “You were also very impressive out there,kid. Very brave back there, kiddo. Guiding people out of danger, keeping the boy calm… That takes presence of mind, even for someone older.”
If someone pointed out how his neck felt hot, he would simply say its the sun."It's nothing."
The little boy yawned and pointed up at Superman. “You're like… really big, you're my favorite favorite now!"
Superman just smiked and ruffled his hair, "Don't worry, Flash is also commendable. But, I'm so honored to be considered significant by you, Ifa."
"You knew my name!"
"it's because you're a good kid. Good kid deserves their names to be recognized."
Peter just watched- and damn, he's inspired.
Literally the embodiment of hope.
And what Spider-Man always aspired to be.
zZz
After everything was settled, Ifa found his mom.
The chaos had settled. The sirens faded into the distance, and the library had been cordoned off by emergency crews. Civilians were being checked over by the medics, reporters taking notes, and Peter… well, Peter had already excused himself. He barely glanced at the medical station, politely declining the offered bandages and first-aid, saying he was fine and all- (he got a scratch on his toes- his broken knee, and bruises all over his body) taking only a granola bar and some water before slipping away.
He found himself climbing the fire escape of a nearby building, fingers gripping the cold metal as his heart finally slowed. On the roof, he sat down, legs dangling over the edge. The city stretched below him, lights flickering, the streets alive with Metropolis’ endless life.
Metrapolis is not Queens, but they can be neighbors.
Peter tore into the granola bar, chewing slowly as his mind settled. He saw a boy hiding his sibling's slippers, a squirrel arguing with a bird, and of course the rats are always there. Ned would probably love that building with a globe shape around it- MJ would enjoy the skyline. Aunt May would love going to its local coffee shops and her eyes wil lingered longer when passing the flower shop. Black Widow hiding in the shadows- Captain America sitting at one of the roof and will be accompanied later by the Winter Soldier. And oh, Tony would love driving around here. What is everyone doing right now?
Peter wondered,
Does anyone remembered him? Will Ned forget the guy he's working of as the guy in the chair? Will Doctor Strange forget the guy who always seem to think resembled Tony a lot- the guy who always listened to Captain America PSA-ish statements? The kid who Happy always dropped off to school?
Peter shook his head as another thought arose, are they really alive?
If he returned, will he see Aunt may jiving at the radio while cleaning the kitchen? Will he see Black Widow cutting through the air as usual? Will he see Tony on the TV again?
It was too good to be true. Mysterio's deal to him was too good to be true. Erasure of Peter Parker in exchange of the resurrection of others. Well, literally erasure because he's thrown into another universe, another world but the idea is there. Peter would not even be surprised if Mysterio words are false- a fabricated illusions and lies to defeat him.
But, there's hope blossoming in his heart.
Peter sighed, kicking his shoes lightly against the edge. I wanted to return home, to see everyone again. To know if they are alive, even though they have no idea of who I am.
….hi! friend…!
A shadow fell across the roof. A blue and red blurred and appeared in front of him, blocking his view of the skyline. Superman.
“You’re up high,” came a calm, deep voice.
Peter squinted, "No offense, but you’re blocking my view, you know,” Peter said flatly, eyes still fixed on the skyline. “Kinda rude.”
Superman seems startled - chuckles warmly, patient, annoyingly composed.
“My apologies,” Superman said, taking a step to the side. Peter swore he sort of felt bad for that.
“Thanks.” Peter’s muttered and tilted his head, “So uh,did Metropolis ran out of kittens in trees for you to save?” Because a major hero like this giant should be busy, busy and not checking up on lil Peter. That would make Spider-Man envious of his spare time.
Superman smiled faintly as he approached and hovered a little, making him small, “Not quite. I was told the young man who helped save the people at the library disappeared and refused the medics.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, still not looking at him- there's a lady down there feeding doves and it's so cool- “So you’re… stalking me now? Wow, I didn’t think Superman did post-rescue follow-ups.”
“I prefer to think of it as concern,” Superman said gently. “Everyone down there’s been asking about you. Some even sent thanks, Ifa said he's going to name his next stuff toy to you, sweetheart. He's asking for your name.”
Peter gave a half shrug- remembering the boy who held too much trust on him- "Peter.”
"Yes?"
"My name is Peter."
Superman lean closer- and asked, "May I?"while pointing at his head.
Peter thought its odd- confused- and he's just honestly awkward around that guy so he just give a weak nod, "My hair stink, I warned you."
"Does not matter." He felta warm gentle hand ruffling his hair- it's so warm, no one said anything when Peter lean closer, "Peter, you're a kind boy. Courageous one, a good kid."
Peter felt his neck burned, avoiding the man's gaze, "Am I collecting adjectives for my tomb?" Too kind- Superman does not know Peter but he spoke as if Peter is… beautiful.
Superman stopped, a frowned visible on his face. "Don't joke about your… end, Peter."
"It's a joke, chill."
"A very bad one."
"Boomer."
Superman sat beside him quietly, the rooftop creaking beneath his weight. He didn’t push the conversation, didn’t pry - just looked out at the same skyline Peter did, the hum of the city filling the silence between them.
After a minute, he murmured, “It’s colder up here than it looks.”
“I’ve been colder.”
"That does not make it any better, Peter."
Without another word, Superman’s cape slid over Peter’s shoulders, heavy and warm. Peter almost jumped up- he's surprised by the sudden action-
“Man, What’re you—0-?”
“Just keep it on,” Superman said. “You’re shivering.”
It's because spiders have low thermoregulation system!
“I’m not-”
Superman’s eyes glowed faintly blue as he scanned him. “Bruised ribs, fractured knee, mild dehydration, and… you haven’t eaten properly in two days?”
Peter scowled. “Okay, not cool- are you a doctor that's about to give me prescriptions? Careful, I might robbed a pharmacy for that."
"You won't." Superman confidently said,
"How can you be so sure?" Peter asked, he's not going to robbed a pharmacy for that, of course. But playing and bantering around with this person is fun.
"I just know."
"What, do you have a lie detector too?"
"Sort of?"
"Cool! And, when you use your x ray vision- does it gives off radiation? Is it harmful? Are you radioactive? Wait, you wiki said that the sun heals you- so are you sort of basically a person who photosynthesis?"
"My x-ray vision is not harmful, but it does sends off a bit of radiation when being used. Uh, I'm not radioactive as far as I know or came to be? Oh! Peter, that's a good way to put on how I rely on the sun! I guess, I kinda do photosynthesis?"
"Then your x-ray vision is non ionizing?But how can that be when x-ray is an ionizing one? Have you tested which electromagnetic waves does your eyes sends off?"
Superman chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. “You have a curious mind, Peter. That I,even myself is curious as well. But, you’ve been pushing yourself too hard, kid. Your body condition is not healthy or suited for a young boy.”
"Sweetheart, you're pushing yourself too hard. We can finish your essay tomorrow."
Peter muttered under his breath, “You sound like Aunt May…”
Then stopped himself, his jaw tensed. Peter closed his eyes and buckle his knees, this is not a good time to get nostalgic and cried. Especially not in front of Superman, he's Spider-Man. This will be too embarrassing for Spider-Man if he does cried.
Superman caught it. He didn’t comment, but his expression softened.
“Those injuries, did someone hurt you?” he asked quietly.
Peter shook his head. “No. Not like that. I just… tripped-”
“Do you have someone to call? Parents? Guardian?”
The question hit harder than Peter expected, his throat tightened. He kept his eyes on the glittering city-
“I’m… kinda alone right now,” he said eventually, alone is totally a way to describe it. “I'm looking for my… guardian. But I don’t wanna get stuck in Child Services or whatever that's why I don't interact or receive help from the medics or hospitals. I’m not… a case file, it's only a temporary situation for me.”
Peter eyed warily at Superman,"You won't call the Child Services for me, right? I'll run away and do a parkour if you do, you'll never find me again and I will hate on you forever and become a supervillain if you do that, Superman."
Superman studied him — the way his voice faltered, how he pretended not to care and pretended to be angry- Superman knew how Peter meant every words-
The man opened his mouth,no hint of annoyance and retaliation n those blue eyes- only understanding and kindness, "Don't worry Peter, I worked independently, I'll do what I saw fit the given situation, I wouldn't forced you or call anyone, I sincerely wanted to be a help of you." Peter felt bad- how could someone look at everything and think they're beautiful-
But then—
grrrrrrrrrrrrhhhh.
Peter froze. So did Superman.
Peter stomach growls.
Peter’s face went red. “That-wasn’t me.”
Superman laughed, really laughed this time. “Sounded like you.”
Peter covered his face. “You heard nothing.”
This is too embarrassing for Peter, talk about a worse timing- god, may the floor just swallowed him whole and spit him out again in another world.
Before Peter could protest, a gust of air whooshed beside him. Superman was gone. The cape slipped off Peter’s shoulder, flapping lightly in the wind. Weird- alright. Peter thought that Superman got annoyed with him-
He blinked. “Did he-just—?”
Five seconds later, whoosh! Superman landed again, holding a paper bag that smelled suspiciously incredible.
“Super Cafe,” Superman announced with a grin. “You, my friend, are overdue for a meal.” Super Cafe? Is that like a shop with a theme of Superman? Peter actually would love to see it by his own eyes.
Peter blinked. “You literally went out and-how fast are you? You are not Flash,”
“My speed came in handy since I am your today's delivery guy,” Superman said matter-of-factly, handing him the bag. “I even got you a Super meal.”
Peter gave him the most incredulous look imaginable. “Are you serious?”
“Completely. Comes with a toy and everything. It's a tradition to know who's your Super. Go on-see who you got.”
Despite himself, Peter opened the box, too curious not to complied. Hey, c'mon, who he is even kidding? His Thor and Ironman collection on his old room would love to call him to the court- Peter rifle through fries and burger wrappers until he found it, a tiny plastic figure.
“…Superboy,..?” he muttered, reading the name printed on the foundation of the figure.
Superman chuckled and look at the figure warmly, “Good choice, He’s family. Kind of a brother, kind of a son. Complicated relationship, but he’s one of the best and courageous person I know.”
Peter turned the figure over in his fingers, Superboy sounds ass, a total sidekick name, Peter prefered more similar to Robin but who is he to judge? The figurine wore a black leather jacket with the red Superman “S” on the back, a tight blue suit, fingerless gloves, and red boots - the rockstar or punk version of Supeman. “He looks cool.”
“He is,” Superman said. His tone softened. “I wish that he knew I see him more than a copy of me, that I cared and adored him.”
Peter blinked, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. Superman sounds so human, like your regular uncle talking about his children on one sunday noon. “...You’re too nice, you know that?”
Superman smiled. “Some people say that. Others say I’m nosy.”
“Yeah, that one fits,” Peter muttered with a smirk, biting into his burger.
They ate in silence for a while - Superman sitting cross-legged beside him, cape still covering him like a blanket and the smell of fries mixing with the cool air. it's peaceful, first proper meal that Peter got in a whle since he came here that he could swore he almost lost his cool when he bite into the burgers and drink a diet coke.
"So, Peter, what’s your plan now?” Superman asked as they both finished their meals.
Wouldn’t you like to know weather boy? Necause honestly, Peter don't even have one.
Peter shrugged, sipping on his soda. “I dunno. Find a place to crash. Maybe a side gig while I wait or find my guardian.”
Superman nodded, contemplation on his face, leaned back on his hands. “Got any hobbies,Peter?”
Peter thought about it,does swinging count?Building suits and robots in Tony's lab? Peter thought of a lot that he enjoyed as a past time, and choose one that seems normal at most, "Photography."
“So,” Superman said between chuckles, “photography, huh? It's a wonderful past time, to capture memories. It's a form of art, still. Ever think of doing it professionally?”
Peter shrugged, brushing crumbs from his hands. He remembered his time on Daily Bugle, good old times- he can hear Mr. Jameson yelling from the top of his throat of pictures of Spider-Man. Being praised over his talents on capturing vigilante Spider-Man and little did they know he's the fucking Spider-Man. “Used to. Worked at a paper for a while-uh, back home. Did photography and wrote a few pieces when the editor was desperate. Guess you could say I was kind of a… journalist.”
That made Superman pause mid-smile. His brows lifted, eyes narrowing with an almost nostalgic kind of interest. Those blue eyes are glowing. Peter felt nervous. Then, slowly, a grin tugged at his mouth.
“A journalist,” he repeated, almost to himself. Then louder, “You know… I think I know a guy who could help with that.”
Peter looked at him warily. “Help how?”
Superman turned toward him fully, tone casual but eyes bright with purpose. “Accommodation, a proper place to stay, meals covered—and a paid internship at a major publication. You’d be safe, comfortable, and working in the field you love while we searched for your guardian. I know a guy, a totally normal guy who happened to be a journalist.”
Peter blinked, completely thrown off. “Wait. What? Okay, Mister. That's weird, That’s- that’s insane. You can’t just- people don’t just hand out jobs and housing because they feel like it.”
Superman’s smile stayed, calm and certain- you can't refuse that look. “Maybe not most people. But I can.”
Peter frowned, almost suspicious- it can be a kidnapping but his spidey senses are calm, (he can hear Miss Natasha reminding him not to trust his intuition all the time but he feared that's like his whole thing) “Why are you helping me, though? Like… what’s in it for you?”
Superman’s expression softened, the grin fading into something quieter—something almost sad. “You remind me of someone,” he said after a pause. “A boy I knew. He wore clothes that reminds me of a traffic light. I helped raise him when he was younger. He aspired so many young heroes of today.” His voice dropped slightly, almost fond. “He turned out great, amazing, more amazing than his mentor. I’d like to believe I had a hand in that.”
Superman pauses and looked at him as if he's seeing another person- as if he's seeing the past of someone and his future.
"You’ve got the same heart, Peter. And I’d like to see you get the same chance he did.”
Peter looked away quickly. The words hit deeper than he expected. A chance, the big guy muttered- does he really deserve one?
Peter should refused, being entangled and leaving a trace(attachments, relations with Peter is a curse-) in this world may turned out unpleasant and disturbed them. But when he looked at those big blue eyes, it's so hard to say no.
Spider-Man don't lost, Peter Parker does.
“…Guess I don’t have a reason to say no,” he muttered, voice small.
Superman smiled and nodded once, as if that settled it. “Good. Then it’s decided.”
They talked a bit longer, easy now - about headlines, lenses, ridiculous editors, and the weird things they’d seen. Peter found himself laughing, really laughing, for the first time in days. Superman is a hero, a kind one who see everything and his first thought is beautiful. Spider-Man aspired to be half of a man he is. Peter aspired to be him.
Eventually, Superman stood and offered his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you where you need to be.”
“Wait, you mean—”
Before Peter could finish, Superman scooped him up and launched into the sky. Peter yelped, gripping his shoulders. “Next time, a warning would be great!”
Superman just laughed, the sound echoing through the wind. “Sorry, I forgot the in-flight announcement!”
The city streaked beneath them highways like veins of gold, windows glowing like constellations. For a second, Peter forgot the cold, the exhaustion, everything. Flying is different than swinging through the roofs. It felt freeing.
When they landed, it was at an old waiting station on the edge of Metropolis. The air smelled faintly of oil. Superman set him down gently.
“All right,” he said with that easy, reliable tone again. “A man in a suit will be here soon. He’ll introduce himself. You can trust him - but only him. Don’t go wandering off, got it?”
Peter gave a mock salute, trying to hide his nerves. “Yes, Mom.”
Superman snorted. “I mean it, Peter.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter said. “Thanks, Superman. For, uh… everything.” Peter felt embarrassed.
Superman rested a hand on his shoulder, gentle but firm. “We'll find your guardian soon, Pete."
Good luck with that, I don't even know if they're dead or alive.
And with that, the Man of Steel rose into the air, cape whipping behind him before he disappeared into the clouds.
The world went still.
Ten minutes passed. Maybe twelve. Peter was starting to think he’d been duped by a well-meaning alien
…hi! friend..! nice! again…!
Someone called out,
“Uh, excuse me? Are you Peter?”
Peter turned. A tall man stood under the flickering station light - suit slightly rumpled, glasses perched on his nose, expression warm but awkward. He's so tall.
“I, uh-yeah?” Peter said cautiously. “Who’s asking?”
The man smiled gently and extended a hand.
“Superman asked me to check on you.”
“Reporter. Daily Planet.” The big guy grin warmed, soft and sincere. “If you’re willing, I’d like you to intern at my work. I'm a journalist, our publication can use a helping hands. Superman trusted your ability, let’s make something of it.”
For a moment, Peter just stood there-
“Yeah,” he said quietly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’d like that.”
"I'm Peter, Peter Parker."
"Nice to- uhh meet you Peter, I'm Clark Kent."
zZz
At the same time, back on New York, Tony Stark arose from the Lazarus pit.