Arc Eighteen. Chapter Five Hundred Nineteen. No Way Home
Peter fell. He fell through barriers, through colours, and in one place, he was sure he was feeling raspberry. Whatever Reed had done had catapulted him into some strange realm of dimensions. So Peter vowed that when he got home, he was going to kick Reed and see if he had rubber balls stashed in his shorts.
He kept falling, through boring images of kaleidoscopic brightness. It was fun for a while, but eventually, it was all just colour and light. He couldn't even move. He had nothing to 'move' against, and in this space, there was no up, there was no down. And there was definitely no side to side.
A portal opened and he saw the interior of a factory. He figured someone was screwing with dimensional travel as well, and he could use that to try and get home.
As gravity took hold, he was sucked down, and for once actually had a soft landing.
What he fell on groaned, and as he turned his head, he saw the red-faced skull mask of whoever he landed on.
“AHH!” he yelled and pushed him away. The unconscious man slowly floated up and into the portal he had just fallen through. The asshole had a Hydra symbol on his shirt, so he was not going to save him. ”Sucks to be you.” He waved as the portal shivered, wobbled, and then closed.
“I appreciate the save friend, but I’m gonna have to ditch this bird unless we can do something.”
Peter turned, recognising the voice. “Oh hey, Steve. So uh, what's going on?”
Internally he fist-pumped. It was Steve. His Steve, but as the man gave him a confused look, he heard the static of a radio.
“Sorry, Peggy. I'm gonna be late for our dance.”
Peter watched in horror, as the plane tilted and plunged into the ocean.
⁂
Nicholas Fury examined the frozen man. He was amazed that Captain Steven Rogers had survived under the ice for all this time. Perfectly preserved. It was even a miracle as the man's clothing hadn't deteriorated either. Must have been some kind of super fabric.
Agent Coulson handed him a file.
“I just had to be here, I mean. It’s the actual Captain America. I even brought my cards,” he said excitedly.
“Yeah. I can see that.” Fury turned to the other table. “I get that Steve Rogers survived. But who's this asshole?”
Laid out on the other table, covered in just as much ice, and registering as just as alive was another man.
Just as muscular, just as old, but coming back with no record of ever having existed.
⁂
Peter groaned as a headache assaulted the top of his skull, leaking in through his eyes. He had been told that this was what a hangover felt like, and if it was. He was glad he never had one.
The room looked like an old-fashioned bedroom. Crisp white sheets, a thicker green blanket, and frilly lace over a plain wooden dresser.
Sat on it was an old-fashioned radio. Peter had taken plenty apart as a kid, and he smiled as he stood to reach for it.
Uh, oops. He thought, realising he was naked. Thankfully he was alone, and there didn’t seem to be any signs of another person in the room. Guess I got rescued, but what the hell was Steve doing flying a plane? And who the hell was Skull guy?
As he stood and stretched a set of plain black slacks and a t-shirt slid over him.
He smiled as he picked up the radio. It was done up as one of those old forties radios, complete with a paper frequency indicator. He clicked it on and smiled at the hiss. As he turned to the old-style dial, he got the sports.
“Coming to you live. We head to Wrigley Field for the last game of the 1945 World Series.”
Yeah, not interested, so he clicked it off.
Sports were boring when you swung around New York when your flight pack was busted.
There was a knock at the door and a young woman entered.
In an army-style uniform, with several medals pinned on her chest, she gave him a surprised look.
“I,” she blinked, “I heard the radio, and wondered if you wanted breakfast?” She was holding a metal tray with scrambled eggs on it, but what was confusing Peter was her uniform. Everything in the room, including her, looked like it was a replica from the war. And now he thought about it, even Steve looked younger than he remembered, and had on one of his old uniforms.
“Sure, it's not from the war, is it? I mean, those viewtube videos on old rations are great, but I wouldn't want to eat one.”
The woman gave him another confused look, “the war? I’m sorry. You must be confused. Can you tell me the date?”
“You first.” Peter smiled at her and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry, but it’s not 1945 anymore. You have been asleep for a long time.”
Letting his senses reach out, he could hear her heart beating faster at being caught out in a lie. The small whir and transmission from a hidden camera in the corner of the room. But more importantly, the freshly oiled gun she had in her waistband.
“If I say something weird, will you shoot me?” As he smirked at her, she drew the gun.
“How?” Was all she asked.
“Accident. It’s not 1945 where I’m from, more 2020.”
“An accident sent you back to 1945 where you survived frozen on ice with Captain Rogers?” She asked, keeping the gun trained on him.
Peter shrugged and nodded, “Steve okay? Course he is. Uh, Is Nick Fury your boss? I recognise a Shield standard issue. And uh, wait.” he raised both hands. “I am going to give you my ID, okay, but it’ll look strange.”
The woman snorted, “Is that so I don’t shoot you?”
Peter laughed, “I’m pretty much bulletproof, so that isn’t much of a threat. I just don’t want to scare you.”
“Fine,” but she still kept the gun on him.
Symbskin slithered up his arm, black and viscous, and a small card appeared.
He had kept his Shield ID, as a memento, and while it was stamped with VOID across the front, it was still a regulation ID.
“Uh. Don’t ask about why it’s voided. It’s um, classified.”
She picked it from his hand, keeping the gun on him, “While this looks very good. The void does spoil it.”
Peter shrugged, “but, you still can’t fake one. The security holograms can only be manufactured by Shield. Void or not, it’s still a Shield issue ID.”
She motioned with the gun, “Sit. Another agent will be in to validate your claims. Until then.”
He shrugged, “So, uh, what's the date here?”
“2016,” she replied.
It was Peter's turn to be shocked. Even if he was home, it was four years in the past, and his shoulders slumped.
He knew exactly what Liv would suggest if she found out he had a time duplicate.
As he smiled, the agent raised an eyebrow, “something amusing?”
Peter shook his head, “not to anyone but me.”
It didn't take long for another agent to arrive. Peter knew him, it was Sitwell. He resisted the urge to punch the man in the face as they ran his ID through the scanner he brought.
“It is fake, but our system recognises it. Either he’s telling the truth or we have a leak in the manufacturing facility.”
“As I said, an accident sent me back. Want proof? Fury, Hill. Malik, Your name is something Sitwell, Pierce. Ross, and uh.”
He was stumped. He tried to remember all the Shield agents he could but drew a blank. They weren't the friendliest bunch, but then again, most of them were Hydra.
“So you know a list of Agents. It’s hardly proof,” Sitwell said. “And I will be keeping this.” He held up Peter’s ID and curled his fingers around it. “Keep the prisoner here. I need to report this.”
“Yeah. I want that back. I am an Agent, and you have no right to keep me here,” Peter said, pointing at Sitwell's hand. Peter had no idea if dimensional travel was safe. He would make sure he left nothing behind.
Sitwell smirked, “This is Shield property, and as such will be.”
Peter didn't even wait for him to finish, and a web line yanked it from his hand.
The female agent fired twice, and as the symbskin covered Peter’s hand, he held it out.
“Yeah. Bulletproof remember,” He blew the smoke from the rounds in his hand. “So. How about you get Fury here, and I don’t show you what my other powers and a lack of patience can do.”
⁂
Fury had been watching on the cameras. Steve Rogers had a redacted file that filled four cabinets. The unknown came back as just that. Completely unknown. They tried to take DNA but it broke down before it even got in the needle. Facial recognition failed to match him and even dental proved useless. They would have asked Steve, but he had run. Fury was disappointed that his ruse failed with both men. He would have to get a better one in case this scenario happened again.
Making a choice. He sent Coulson out after Rogers and headed to the stage to meet Peter Parker. The ID scanner ran him through the Shield Database and came back without a match to an agent. It did come back to a nine-year-old in Brooklyn. So he was either incompetent or there was more going on than they knew about. Especially as he seemed to be aware of Shield, and unfazed by having two agents in the room with him.
He was either brave or stupid. Judging by the look he had on his face. Fury decided it was both.
Fury entered and Peter smiled at him.
“Seems you’re the same too. Uh, can we have some privacy,” Peter twirled a hand at the cameras, pointing out each one. “Those as well. What I want to say doesn't leave this room. My Shield protocols might be a bit rusty, but I think it's Book Twelve. Sub-Section Nineteen. Paragraph Four. “An Agent, Regardless of Status, can approach any field office and ask for an allowance of privacy. As long as the said agent has not been disavowed from the a-,”
Fury frowned “Yeah yeah, we all know that code. Give us the room.” Sitwell left without a word, and the female agent gave him a once over before Fury glared and made her leave.
As he felt, Peter sensed all but one camera blink off, and he cleared his throat.
“I can switch it off myself if you want, but you really won't like that.”
Fury raised an eyebrow, and the camera disappeared from Peter's senses.
“Right. Not Peter Parker. I fell through a wormhole made by the Tesseract and landed on some red-faced guy. This universe is kinda like mine but not quite.”
“So, you're what?” Fury asked as he brushed his coat to one side and sat on the bed, “an interdimensional traveller?”
Peter laughed, “Uh no, accident. But I was hoping I could use the Tesseract to get home. One use and I’m gone.”
Fury snorted. “While you may know about the Tesseract, I am not about to hand a powerful piece of technology to an unknown. So no.”
“What if I trade it for information about the Tesseract? If our universes are similar, then maybe.” Peter smiled and held up his hands.
“Such as?” Fury said, staring at him, unamused.
“Such as I know you're not the hardass you're acting like Nicholas. I know how you got that scarred face, as Carol told me, and I know the Tesseract is so much more powerful. I also know it's so stupidly dangerous that messing with it blew a hole in the multiverse.”
“The Tesseract is in containment and is being monitored,” Fury said as he glared. Peter was used to Fury's glare, and it didn't work in his dimension. Fury was tough, and a good spy, but he was still nothing compared to someone like Natasha.
Peter sighed, “Yeah, you’ve got a scientist busy using it to try and open wormholes. So how about this? Stop screwing around with it before he creates a black hole!” He said, raising his voice.
“And how do you know that?” Fury asked.
Peter caught the idea he was about to be shot and just shook his head.
“My Nick isn’t as paranoid.” He stood and stretched, “it’s bad for your heart.”
“So? I have insurance.” He brushed the tail of his coat and at the end of the fake bed. “Want to tell me what happens next?”
Peter laughed, “Dimensional traveller, not a time traveller. I have no idea what's going on in this world, for all I know Tony could actually be a decent human being.”
Fury snorted, “If you mean Iron Man, then sorta, but not really.”
“Still got the?“ Peter made a circle in front of his chest.
Fury nodded. “So, close enough, but not really. You know I can’t let you out of here. We have no idea what.”
Peter lifted a hand. “No, you can't. I can leave, I can pretty much do anything I want as you have no real way to stop me. If you had Enhanced or Augments here you would have sent them in first, and not showed up yourself.”
Fury sighed and scowled. He had no idea what the hell an Augment was. “So, let me guess, you need the Tesseract and if not you start what did you say?” Fury snorted, "showing a lack of patience?"
Peter laughed. “Something like that, but not what you're thinking. I just want to go home.”
Fury laughed, “Yeah, still not happening.”
Peter sighed, “Do I get a phone call?”
“Who you gonna call?”
Peter resisted the obvious, “If my guess is correct, then I might have a friend.”
Fury shrugged and handed over his phone, “I hope it's local.”
Peter laughed “Yes,” and smiled, clenching his fist in celebration as it connected.
“Bleecker Street, Wong speaking.”