Spider-Man Reincarnated in the DC Multiverse

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The rain hadn't stopped since Peter arrived in Gotham.

It drizzled with an almost deliberate rhythm, like the city itself was mourning something it could never articulate. Water trickled down his back as he perched on the edge of a derelict rooftop, the tips of his fingers gripping the slick stone ledge while he stared down into the murky alleys below.

He'd been watching a drug handoff unfold beneath a shattered streetlamp. Five men. One nervous. Two armed. One just a kid. The fifth tall, scarred, with eyes like a wolf ran the show. The kind of predator Peter recognized immediately.

And he wanted to act. Every muscle in him screamed for it. But his web-shooters were still erratic, and his balance was… off. His powers worked like misfiring code. Too much, too fast, or nothing at all. He still hadn't figured out if it was the multiverse's fault or his own.

Something shifted.

Not in the alley.

Behind him.

Peter sprang to his feet and spun midair, legs coiled to strike but struck nothing. The rooftop was empty.

Then, from the shadows behind a rusted water tank, came the voice.

"You've been tracking them for an hour. Why haven't you moved?"

Peter turned slowly. "Figured I'd wait for the guy in black pretending to be a gargoyle to make his entrance."

Batman stepped forward without a sound.

He was a silhouette wrapped in obsidian. The rain didn't touch him. His eyes glowed with cold calculation beneath the cowl, white and unreadable. His cape curled in the wind like the wings of a waiting storm.

Peter lowered his hands, fingers twitching slightly. "So, you're the guy everyone's afraid of."

"You're the anomaly," Batman said flatly. "The source of the quantum disturbance."

"I prefer Peter. Or Spider-Man. Or Friendly-But-Dimensionally-Disoriented Neighborhood Guy."

Batman didn't flinch.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

Peter's breath clouded the air. "I told you before. I don't know."

"People don't just fall into Gotham. Not without consequences."

"You think I planned this?"

"I think you're a variable I didn't account for."

Peter sighed, shoulders lowering. "Okay. So what? We trade threats now? You beat me up? I mope? Then we fight bad guys together in Act Three?"

Silence.

Then Batman stepped forward again. The tone of his voice didn't rise, but it sharpened. "Those men down there are traffickers. Weapons. Drugs. Children. You were about to intervene. You didn't. Why?"

Peter hesitated.

"Because… something's wrong with my powers. I'm not sure I can control them."

"You hesitated."

"Yeah," Peter said, jaw tight. "I did. Because I don't know the rules here yet. I don't know who's corrupt, who's watching, or whether someone's going to put a bullet in me if I step out of line."

"You're not in Queens anymore," Batman said. "There's no safety net in Gotham."

Peter gave a dry laugh. "Trust me, there wasn't much of one there either."

A long moment passed.

Then the silence shattered literally.

A blast echoed below. Muffled screams followed. One of the men had pulled a shotgun and fired into the air.

Peter didn't think.

He jumped.

His landing was sloppy, hard. Ankles jarred on impact. But his body moved before his mind did adrenaline fueling instinct. He shoulder-rolled out of the fall, caught the first gunman by surprise with a sweeping kick, and slammed him into the alley wall.

The second raised his pistol.

Peter ducked left, springing off the dumpster and throwing a jagged piece of broken fire escape into the man's wrist. The gun clattered to the ground.

Then the tall one the leader grabbed the kid and pressed a knife to his throat.

Peter froze.

The man's eyes were bloodshot, half-crazed. "Back. Off."

Peter raised his hands slowly.

"I'm not your enemy."

"No," the man said, grinning. "But you're not from here either. I can smell it."

The kid whimpered.

Peter's hands twitched. No webs. Nothing.

Then

A whisper of motion.

A blur behind the man.

The knife clattered to the ground before the man even knew he'd been disarmed.

Batman.

He moved like a phantom. One strike to the elbow. Another to the spine. The trafficker dropped like a marionette with its strings cut. Batman caught the kid before he could hit the ground, shielding him with his cape.

Peter stared.

"You always this subtle?" he asked.

Batman straightened, eyes narrowing. "You left your flank open."

"You're welcome."

"You're reckless."

"You're paranoid."

A tense beat.

Then the kid shaking, tear-streaked looked up at Peter.

"Are you a superhero?" he asked.

Peter opened his mouth, then closed it.

Batman answered for him. "He's still figuring that out."

Fifteen minutes later, the criminals were zip-tied and unconscious. The kid was handed off to a quiet officer who knew better than to ask questions.

Peter and Batman stood on the rooftop above, the city stretching around them like a dying thing.

"You moved well," Batman said at last. Not a compliment. A statement.

"I've had practice."

"But you're slower. Off-balance. Your neural patterns are disrupted."

"Gee, doc, got anything for headaches and quantum instability?"

Batman pulled a small black case from his belt and tossed it to Peter.

Peter caught it.

"Tracer," Batman said. "If I call, you answer. Stay out of sight. Don't draw attention. Gotham isn't a proving ground."

Peter looked at the device in his hand. Sleek. Minimal. Impossibly advanced. Like everything else here.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked quietly.

Batman stared at him. "Because the last time a multiversal breach happened, it nearly destroyed everything. And because something worse is coming."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "You've seen something?"

"I've felt it," Batman said. "Like a shadow too large to see. You're the tremor before the quake."

Peter clenched the tracer in his fist.

"Then maybe I'm here for a reason."

"Or maybe you're the fuse."

Batman turned, cape billowing behind him.

Before he vanished, Peter called out: "What happens if I can't figure this out before your shadow gets here?"

Batman paused only long enough to say, "Then we all fall."

And then he was gone.

Peter stayed on the rooftop long after the rain stopped. Gotham had no sunrise. Just less darkness.

He looked down at the tracer in his palm and thought about what it meant to be pulled from one world into another. To be broken, incomplete. To be Spider-Man in a universe that didn't know who he was.

A world that didn't owe him trust.

He tucked the tracer away, pulled the shredded remains of his mask over his face, and vanished into the city's veins once more.

He wasn't just a ghost from another world.

He was something new.

Still Peter Parker.

Still Spider-Man.

But in Gotham… the web was fraying and he would have to learn how to weave it again from scratch.

/-\

If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my Patreon at

" https://www.patreon.com/Its_Zack/ "

You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want.