Peter's not Peter anymore because 38 years of existing has demonstrated that Reality hates him. Other Realities aren't his friend either. See: this mess, for example. Since Reality isn't his friend, he doesn't trust that it won't do something stupid and petty like making one of his rogues gallery show up here.
He knows at some point during this little venture he might need to use his powers, and he doesn't have a mask, which means him - him as Peter - being Spider-Man might become open knowledge. So he thought up a fake name on the fly: Ben Reilly. Ben, after his uncle, and May's maiden name. Now even if someone from home shows up, all they'll go back to New York with is the wrong name and the visual of a completely generic, middle-aged dude with brown hair.
Try to find his real identity and therefore his divorce records now, bad guys.
Peter also isn't Peter anymore because you're not you when you're hungry.
"Don't you patronize me," Peter hisses at the door, his face a cartoonish inverse of smiley face picture. He corrects himself, "Don't you patronize me and get between me and food."
He's not smiling on command. He's not smiling on command. Not after being kidnapped, forcibly recruited, and having surprise, non-consensual elective surgery. He gestures vaguely at someone nearby without checking to see if they have a human face.
"You, with the face. Open the door for me since I refuse to smile on principle."
He doesn't look like much, just a cranky, unshaven, middle-aged dude with a slight paunch. The jumpsuit is both too tight for him and too short for him because he's one of few beanpole people that has limbs that are too long for it.
He gestures sharply at the smile door. "I will not let you win!"
d) NEED A HAND?
Peter wants to sulk, hide, or fight. He wants to do any number of things other than getting settled and playing summer camp. But this is definitely a situation where he has to play the long game. He's already cased the place, checked ducts he could crawl through, scoped out potential security systems, counted the number of guards. He'll check in more depth later, at night, when there are less people that might see him.
What's clear already is that this is not a "Spidey crawls through some ducts and puts a goober into the thingy and makes the other thingy go boom and then kicks some guys in the head, the end" kind of situation. But he's done the long game before. Some of his bad guys weren't one and done. Some of them he'd played an on and off chess match with for years.
(He's looking at you, Norman.)
So, until he can solve this problem he has to deal with the smaller problems in front of him - and when the going gets tough the tough get helping. There are people here, probably scared, overwhelmed, and angry. Maybe a little while ago - maybe even just a few days ago - he'd have been miserly and held back until it was time to strike at the bad guys. Maybe he'd even have focused only on getting home, pretending that was all he cared about.
But...not now. Not after meeting Miles and Gwen and the others. Not after seeing May again - even if it wasn't his May. Not after being reminded what it means to be Spider-Man. He'd been a little jaded, a little crusty, but Miles had called his bluff.
But he's definitely a little rusty at being a soft touch like this. Back home he'd still patrolled and fought criminals and rescued people and helped grannies cross the street, but after the divorce, whatever softness had been in there had calcified over for a little while. Saving people had felt like a bad habit and half the time he saved a granny from chunks of falling building she hit him with an umbrella over a rough landing.
So this is exercising some long atrophied muscles here. That's why his body language is put-offish, a little closed and awkward, as he says, "Need help? Carrying that?"
What is this, Ikea quality? Particle board? Even with the obvious hit he's taken in super strength, he can lift this one handed. Not that he looks like it. He looks like someone who lives off of pizza and funyuns.
He is in fact someone that lives off of pizza and funyuns.
But it's definitely a crouching tiger, hidden spider situation; he's a lot stronger than he looks.
g) NO REST FOR THE WEARY
Night is a good time to explore. He's finding that the guard rotation seems thinner at night-time and he's less likely to be seen by Jorgmund staffers fiddling with the vents and little maintenance tunnels. There's also less chance some of his more weasel-ey fellow "recruits" will rat him out to the Kommandant while he attempts to Cooler King it up.
Some of the more useful-looking potential openings in the rig are on the ceiling so he crawls along it, poking, prodding, seeing if certain things look like they need a screwdriver to loosen. Anytime he hears movement, he freezes, in total silence. In part, it's because he doesn't want to get in trouble, but it's also because he knows if certain people see him doing this they're gonna scream.
Look at the situation: dim, flickering lights turned down for the night, cold metal hallways, the wind whistling through the rig in shrieking that sounds like human voices, distant clanging...
If anyone has an insomnia spell and just so happens to look up by coincidence, alongside all that ambient creepiness, they'll also see a man in shadow, clinging to the ceiling, spider-like, in total silence.
The call's coming from inside the house wooeeeoooo.
i) INTERIOR WRECKORATING
This doesn't even rank in the top ten list of weirdest things that have ever happened to him but it definitely is weird.
He's just discovered that the folding chairs are smart. They're some of the smartest of the animated office supplies, able to sweep around someone in a pincer maneuver. He know this because some are trailing behind him, and yet some have also inexplicably appeared in a hallway to his right.
"Clever girl," says Peter as one of them lunges. Anyone that didn't see him on the ceiling last night gets a chance to see it now. He leaps up and sticks to it right as the chair clang clang clangs, trying to close around his head. In a hushed and dramatic voice, he says, "Their scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn't stop to think if they should."
Peter B. Parker | Into the Spider-verse
"Yeah, I'm not doing that."
Peter's not Peter anymore because 38 years of existing has demonstrated that Reality hates him. Other Realities aren't his friend either. See: this mess, for example. Since Reality isn't his friend, he doesn't trust that it won't do something stupid and petty like making one of his rogues gallery show up here.
He knows at some point during this little venture he might need to use his powers, and he doesn't have a mask, which means him - him as Peter - being Spider-Man might become open knowledge. So he thought up a fake name on the fly: Ben Reilly. Ben, after his uncle, and May's maiden name. Now even if someone from home shows up, all they'll go back to New York with is the wrong name and the visual of a completely generic, middle-aged dude with brown hair.
Try to find his real identity and therefore his divorce records now, bad guys.
Peter also isn't Peter anymore because you're not you when you're hungry.
"Don't you patronize me," Peter hisses at the door, his face a cartoonish inverse of smiley face picture. He corrects himself, "Don't you patronize me and get between me and food."
He's not smiling on command. He's not smiling on command. Not after being kidnapped, forcibly recruited, and having surprise, non-consensual elective surgery. He gestures vaguely at someone nearby without checking to see if they have a human face.
"You, with the face. Open the door for me since I refuse to smile on principle."
He doesn't look like much, just a cranky, unshaven, middle-aged dude with a slight paunch. The jumpsuit is both too tight for him and too short for him because he's one of few beanpole people that has limbs that are too long for it.
He gestures sharply at the smile door. "I will not let you win!"
d) NEED A HAND?
Peter wants to sulk, hide, or fight. He wants to do any number of things other than getting settled and playing summer camp. But this is definitely a situation where he has to play the long game. He's already cased the place, checked ducts he could crawl through, scoped out potential security systems, counted the number of guards. He'll check in more depth later, at night, when there are less people that might see him.
What's clear already is that this is not a "Spidey crawls through some ducts and puts a goober into the thingy and makes the other thingy go boom and then kicks some guys in the head, the end" kind of situation. But he's done the long game before. Some of his bad guys weren't one and done. Some of them he'd played an on and off chess match with for years.
(He's looking at you, Norman.)
So, until he can solve this problem he has to deal with the smaller problems in front of him - and when the going gets tough the tough get helping. There are people here, probably scared, overwhelmed, and angry. Maybe a little while ago - maybe even just a few days ago - he'd have been miserly and held back until it was time to strike at the bad guys. Maybe he'd even have focused only on getting home, pretending that was all he cared about.
But...not now. Not after meeting Miles and Gwen and the others. Not after seeing May again - even if it wasn't his May. Not after being reminded what it means to be Spider-Man. He'd been a little jaded, a little crusty, but Miles had called his bluff.
But he's definitely a little rusty at being a soft touch like this. Back home he'd still patrolled and fought criminals and rescued people and helped grannies cross the street, but after the divorce, whatever softness had been in there had calcified over for a little while. Saving people had felt like a bad habit and half the time he saved a granny from chunks of falling building she hit him with an umbrella over a rough landing.
So this is exercising some long atrophied muscles here. That's why his body language is put-offish, a little closed and awkward, as he says, "Need help? Carrying that?"
What is this, Ikea quality? Particle board? Even with the obvious hit he's taken in super strength, he can lift this one handed. Not that he looks like it. He looks like someone who lives off of pizza and funyuns.
He is in fact someone that lives off of pizza and funyuns.
But it's definitely a crouching tiger, hidden spider situation; he's a lot stronger than he looks.
g) NO REST FOR THE WEARY
Night is a good time to explore. He's finding that the guard rotation seems thinner at night-time and he's less likely to be seen by Jorgmund staffers fiddling with the vents and little maintenance tunnels. There's also less chance some of his more weasel-ey fellow "recruits" will rat him out to the Kommandant while he attempts to Cooler King it up.
Some of the more useful-looking potential openings in the rig are on the ceiling so he crawls along it, poking, prodding, seeing if certain things look like they need a screwdriver to loosen. Anytime he hears movement, he freezes, in total silence. In part, it's because he doesn't want to get in trouble, but it's also because he knows if certain people see him doing this they're gonna scream.
Look at the situation: dim, flickering lights turned down for the night, cold metal hallways, the wind whistling through the rig in shrieking that sounds like human voices, distant clanging...
If anyone has an insomnia spell and just so happens to look up by coincidence, alongside all that ambient creepiness, they'll also see a man in shadow, clinging to the ceiling, spider-like, in total silence.
The call's coming from inside the house wooeeeoooo.
i) INTERIOR WRECKORATING
This doesn't even rank in the top ten list of weirdest things that have ever happened to him but it definitely is weird.
He's just discovered that the folding chairs are smart. They're some of the smartest of the animated office supplies, able to sweep around someone in a pincer maneuver. He know this because some are trailing behind him, and yet some have also inexplicably appeared in a hallway to his right.
"Clever girl," says Peter as one of them lunges. Anyone that didn't see him on the ceiling last night gets a chance to see it now. He leaps up and sticks to it right as the chair clang clang clangs, trying to close around his head. In a hushed and dramatic voice, he says, "Their scientists were so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn't stop to think if they should."