“Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

He quipped, as he adjusted May’s baby carrier. He was wearing his sweats and robe, holding a Zesti cola, perched on a random skyscraper. How did you know you were in a different dimension? Look for the differences in branding. He’d already found two.

Exhibit A: Coca Cola became Zesti cola.

Exhibit B: Daily Planet instead of the Daily Bugle.

"Look at that, Mayday," he mumbled, gesturing vaguely at the massive, golden globe spinning atop the skyscraper. "It’s a planet. A literal planet on the roof. Jameson would hate it. Not enough shouting, too much... optimism."

His baby didn't offer a critique on the architecture; she simply blew a raspberry that sprayed a fine mist of drool onto the front of his robe.

"Thanks, sweetie. Really ties the 'homeless wizard' look together."

The air quality was suspicious, too ; instead of densely-packed smog, it smelled fresh like the countryside.

His spider-senses had prickled constantly since crash-landing here, but not in the usual way. More like a dull buzz from the suspicious lack of overt danger—it was unnerving, like the anticipation of a jump scare. Every smiling pedestrian below felt like a trap, and the lack of trash on the streets was frankly disturbing. No homeless people either? Unsettling.

He perched himself on the edge of a massive, golden Art Deco eagle, adjusting Mayday’s baby carrier as she slept. The eagle belonged to a company called the Metropolis Eagle, which felt very unoriginal. Just as he adjusted Mayday, the uneasy tingling in his neck suddenly spiked and he dropped the Zesti can.

The dark liquid slowly trickled out on the pristine rooftop, as his sharp eyes swept across the busy streets below.

WHOOSH!

Peter’s head snapped to the left, his free hand gently cradling Mayday’s fiery curls protectively. He half-expected to see Green Goblin or worse coming at him, but there was… nothing but pigeons.

What, another flash alarm? His shoulders slumped.

“MJ would’ve hated this place. It’s too bright. We’re nocturnal people,” he complained.

The whoosh came again, louder this time. He raised his wrists, ready to fire. A flock of white doves burst from the cornice, as if freshly released during a wedding ceremony. He craned his head in thought.

“Do I hear wedding bells?” he murmured to himself, lowering his guard. “Jeez, this place is too cheerful for me. It’s suspicious.”