Spider-X: A Spider-Man Story

Chapter 2: New York II

Earth-299999

Peter slams into a wall so hard he slams through the wall. The bricks give way against his back as dust flies all around him.

He coughs on the ground, groaning. What the hell just happened? He sits up but immediately regrets it. He leans to the side and vomits, his head spinning. When it feels like there's nothing left in his stomach he coughs and pushes himself up enough to lean against some of the remaining bricks. When is the last time he threw up? Not since the spider bite. He never gets sick.

He definitely feels like crap now though. He takes a few deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth and stands up. He sways, unsteady on his feet, and has to catch himself on the wall, but he stays upright.

He presses the cool brick against his forehead. Is this what a fever feels like? He hasn't had one of those since the spider bite either. Wait... he touches his face. No mask. He looks down and just gets more confused. He's not in his Spider-Man costume anymore, just the jeans and sweatshirt he wore before the fight.

What the actual hell happened? One minute he's fighting Wanda in the middle of New York, sure she's about to crush him, and the next he flies through this wall, no sign of his Spidey suit, and feeling like absolute shit.

He takes another breath and closes his eyes. He has to calm down. Breathe. Take this one step at a time. Where am I? Peter thinks. He listens to the city around him. He can hear murmured conversations in an apartment building a few hundred feet away, the sound of cabs honking on the road, the bustle of people up to a few blocks.

But no screams. No cries for help, no ambulance or police sirens. It still sounds like New York, but that makes no sense. Wanda has wreaked havoc, and now people don't seem to know or care.

Time for a better look.

Peter raises his hand to shoot a web up to the fire escape a few stories above him, but nothing comes out. He pulls his sleeve up and groans. This day just keeps getting better. His web shooters are absolutely fried. Oh well, he places his hands on the wall and starts to climb.

He slips back down to clutch his side as his head spins. Okay, too much energy, Pete, he thinks as he sinks to the ground. He squeezes his eyes shut against another wave of nausea. It feels like all his ribs plus his spine is bruised. No wall crawling for the time being. Got it.

After a minute of rest, he stands up again and decides to do things the old fashioned way. He walks.

The sunlight hurts his head but he squints and keeps going. All around him, people walk the streets happily, no sign of any battle. Huh, Peter stops across from Delmar's Grocery. He could have sworn their awning is blue, but right now, it's red.

The strangeness doesn't stop there. His favorite Thai restaurant is now a Mexican place, the Starbucks a few blocks down is now a Dunkin', and the kicker, an Adidas store gleams in the distance, but with a Nike swish under it.

Peter's head spins. He takes a seat on a bench and puts his head in his hands. Think logically Pete. Okay, he fought Wanda. Wanda threw the Avengers memorial at him. But instead of getting crushed, Peter got thrown into a wall in a random New York alley. Now his world is different.

He slowly sits up.

Unless this isn't his world.

That would explain all the differences. The absence of the battle. Despite the pain, Peter staggers into a nearby alley and climbs the fire escape like a normal person.

By the time he reaches the top, he's winded and holding his back. Why isn't he healing? He coughs, hurting his ribs, but eventually manages to stand up straight. He looks out over New York. At first glance, everything is fine. There's the Empire State Building, the Brooklyn Bridge, but where the Avengers tower is in his New York, a white 'MetLife' stares back at him.

Okay. Not his New York.

Could this be a pocket dimension? No, that doesn't feel right. The only other explanation Peter can think of is multiversal. Mysterio had been lying when he told Peter the multiverse was real, but more and more scientists were devoting their experiments towards multiversal research, and, hypothetically, the theory is sound.

Is it too foolhardy to hope this is one of the dimensions with another Spider-Man? Possibly even Peter 2 or Peter 3?

Peter looks out at the New York skyline again. The sun is setting.

Okay. Another universe. He's in a parallel universe. This is fine. You're fine, he tells himself. Except for the fact he's injured and alone in a New York where he has no apartment, no food, not even working web shooters.

He slowly sits down as the entire day crashes down on him.

His back spasms again and he grunts out in pain. Why isn't he healing? The thought of climbing back down the building and then having nowhere to go bears down on Peter almost as much as the pain in his body. He scoots to the corner of the roof until he can press his back against the brick. Here, where the two walls meet, provides protection from the wind.

A wave of exhaustion hits him in tandem with more nausea. Peter groans and curls up on his side. Please don't freeze to death, he thinks as he loses consciousness.