//------------------------------// // Ch. 3: Grounded // Story: Ultimate Spiders and Magic: Episode I "New Beginnings" // by Maximus_Reborn //------------------------------// Chapter Three “Grounded” A low groan escaped from Peter’s mouth as he stirred to life, staggering his way out of his room. Throbs of pain surged through his body, forcing the young man to involuntarily clutch at the bruise over the right side of his face. He paused upon reaching the nearest mirror and could only frown at the sight of his reflection. While the swelling had gone down thanks to his accelerated healing, his face still showed the damage taken from the Vulture-like assailant. Peter let out a defeated sigh. “Considering I was thrown through a stone pillar face-first, a shiner isn’t the worst badge of honor. It’s just like when Flash slugged me last year.” Shrugging, he left the hallway and eventually reached the kitchen. An array of gatherings were neatly placed on the table, each emitting a delectable scent. From a stack of pancakes, freshly grilled bacon, and a bowl of scrambled eggs, Peter’s stomach growled in anticipation as he quickly took a seat. He glanced to the side, eyeing a note pinned underneath a glass filled with orange juice. With a fork in one hand and the letter in the other, Peter read through the paper with a mouth full of eggs. “Figured you had a long night. Thanks for remembering the eggs this time! Even all bruised up, you’re still handsome,” he groaned, rolling his eyes before resuming his chewing, “Got called into the shelter early. Eat your breakfast and have a safe day at school. Don’t forget your spare lunch in the fridge. See you tonight. Love, May. ” After finishing the eggs, Peter turned his attention to the stack of pancakes, each drenched from top to bottom in thick syrup. “She’s the best. Her pancakes are almost as good as her wheatcakes.” The sound of a metallic click tapping against a firm surface caused Peter to turn sharply, and he yelped loudly upon seeing Nick Fury nonchalantly standing at the doorway with a plate in hand. “Your aunt cooks some good sausage. Reminds me of my old lady’s,” he stated, pausing to swallow the food in his mouth. Upon finishing what was on his plate, Fury placed the dish in the sink. “You’re out, by the way.” “Do you ever knock?!” Peter yelled, pointing at the man. Fury arched a brow, folding his arms. “Why would I knock? I paid for this house.” Peter raised a finger and opened his mouth, as if ready to respond, but he glanced to the side, frowning before grumbling under breath. “That never stopped you before. Still creepy, if you ask me.” “I make everything my business. Especially you. Don’t forget that,” Fury stated, taking a seat next to Peter. The pair sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Furrowing his brow, Fury pursed his lips. “Nice shiner. Mind telling me what happened at Oscorp last night?” “I couldn’t tell you much,” Peter responded, pausing to eat through half the stack of pancakes in a single sitting. Taking a moment to breathe, he nodded. “Somebody was dressed like the Vulture, but she had crazy armor and strength. She also had a voice modifier, so I couldn’t tell what they actually sounded like.” Fury narrowed his gaze. “Vulture, huh? What did she take?” Peter shook his head. “By the time I got there, she already downloaded something from the computer. Whatever she took, it’s on her flash drive.” The young man tilted his head to the side. “You don’t sound surprised.” Frowning, Fury simply nodded. “This isn’t the first time someone with that description struck. Whoever this Vulture is, she robbed Oscorp last night and one of SHIELD’s facilities a few days prior.” “SHIELD has a facility in this city?” Peter questioned, holding a hand over the bruise on his face. Fury huffed. “It’s not necessarily public knowledge. We have several aliases for each facility in various cities across the globe. It’s how we keep eyes and ears everywhere.” “You really are a stalker,” Peter mumbled, finishing his food as swiftly as he began. Ignoring the child’s comment, Fury stood from his seat. “So, whoever stole from us either knew or struck us by coincidence. I’m not ruling out anything.” Peter eyed the man with a furrowed brow. “So, SHIELD is going to handle this?” Fury brushed the wrinkles from his jacket while shaking his head. “I’ve got enough on my plate as is, and this is still small potatoes in comparison. I just came by to tell you to stay out of it.” Taken aback, Peter shot up to a standing position and nearly knocked his chair down in the process. He walked up to the dark man, peering up with a scowl. “What?! Why?” Holding his ground, Fury calmly stared down at the boy with a firm yet imposing glare. “Because last night was a disaster. You’re clearly out of your element. I didn’t move you to a new city just so you can destroy your rep again. Just let the police handle it for right now.” Exasperated, Peter threw up his hands. “That doesn’t make any sense! You brought me here and gave me a new suit just so I can sit on the sidelines? I don’t think you would have bothered in the first place if you didn’t believe in me!” Fury walked past Peter stoically, but he paused upon reaching the door, glancing out of the side of his eye. “I gave you a warning. What happens next is on you. Just be smart about it this time. Your brain is just as valuable as your muscles.” Peter watched blankly as Fury left the safety of his home, sighing inwardly. “He says don’t interfere, but he offers words of encouragement? Why does he always have to be so cryptic?” A small bolt of pain coursed through his cheek, causing a groan to escape from his mouth. “Hopefully, my bruising isn’t too noticeable. If I’m lucky, I’ll have healed up by the time I make it to class.” “Nice shiner there, Parker!” Flash roared, bursting out into full laughter. Peter exhaled. Strangely enough, he believed everyone at school would have the tact to give him a pass. In true Parker Luck fashion, nearly everyone he bumped into had a comment for his black and blue showing, and it was only the first period. Of course, he had gym class, and Flash Thompson with his entire posse let Peter have it. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were just the beginning, but the cherry on top of the sundae was Peter’s oldest acquaintance, Flash Thompson. Struggling to catch his breath amidst laughing, Flash wiped a tear from his face. “What happened? I told you to stop punching people’s fists with your face!” Peter’s brow twitched involuntarily. “You know I’ve never been good at blocking anything, Flash. It’s why we’re just doomed to be stuck together, I guess.” Before things could progress, Sunset emerged and stepped between the two young men. “Okay. That’s enough, Flash,” she firmly stated, shaking her head, “Give him a break. Looks like he’s already had a bad day.” “Fine, fine,” Flash scoffed, smirking while waving his hands dismissively, “We’ll catch up later, Parker.” Peter cleared his throat, glancing to the side once Flash was out of hearing range. “Um, thanks. You probably just saved me from getting a second black eye. Then again, at least I’d have a matching set. I hear raccoons are all the rage nowadays.” Sunset managed a smile. “Don’t mention it. I remembered you having a hard time earlier.” His eyes widened at a realization. “Ah, that’s right. You were the one who pulled me from the dumpster on my first day. Sunset, right?” Peter chuckled, brushing the back of his head. “We kind of have to stop meeting like this.” Just as Sunset readied herself to respond, Spitfire rolled onto the pair. “Something wrong--? Good grief, dude! What happened to you?” Spitfire blurted out, blinking at the blue bruising over Peter’s cheek. She turned to the girl with a stern gaze. “Sunset, this happened just now?” Clearing his throat, Peter chuckled sheepishly. “No. I was... uh, skateboarding. Fell off the board and face planted last night.” Spitfire stared at the young man for what seemed like an eternity before she folded her arms. “Okay. We’ll get you looked at. Go on back to class, Sunset.” Sunset nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.” She turned to face Peter, holding a smile. “I’ll see you later.” Peter managed a weak wave, unaware of the wide smile he bore. “Yeah. Hopefully.” Once the girl had left the vicinity, Spitfire snorted and smiled knowingly once she faced Peter. “Skateboarding, huh? Sure, and I’m Queen of the Pageant. Because trust me, I can tell you aren’t the skater type.” Waving her hand dismissively, she leaned forward in her wheelchair. “I’ve been in my fair share of scraps, so I know a shiner when I see one. Looks like a right hook to me. Or you were just being a dumb boy and did something stupid. Nothing would surprise me.” Holding a hand over his cheek, Peter grumbled. “You should see the other guy. I almost tickled him.” Pausing, Spitfire’s eyes scanned the gymnasium with a narrowed gaze. Most of the students were scattered about, some outside while others partook in dodgeball and other activities. All of the assistant coaches were handling the masses and keeping everything in line accordingly. With a nod, Spitfire turned around and headed for her office. Waving a hand, Spitfire motioned for Peter to follow. Once the pair was inside, the woman rolled her chair behind the central desk before retrieving a small pack from one of its shelves. She tossed the item to Peter, prompting the young man to catch it. Its surface was cold, evident by the fog seeping from the inside. Peter soon placed the ice over his bruise, letting out a relieved sigh as a soothing sensation coursed through his skin. Spitfire leaned forward in her chair before tugging at Peter’s baggy shirt, sobering. “Okay, Parker. Level with me. Why hide this? You’ve got great-- no-- fantastic muscle tone. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as ripped as you, especially at your age.” Stammering, Peter alternated his gaze between the gym teacher and the door. Feeling Spitfire’s fiery sight unwaver, he could only let out a defeated sigh. “I haven’t had muscle for long. I... started doing yoga with my aunt last year, and the results are this,” he paused, flexing his arm until a muscle grew. With a shrug, Peter eased back into his seat. “Not what you’d expect?” Blinking, Spitfire managed a small chuckle. “Hey, yoga is nothing to scoff at. It can be pretty intense but also therapeutic. A lot of guys tend to laugh at it. So, I understand why you wanted to keep it a secret.” The woman whistled, smirking as her eyes shifted between Peter’s toned arms and legs. “You can’t argue with those results. You looked jacked without an ounce of body fat. I almost wish you were my workout partner back when I was a student here.” “Can you keep this between us? I don’t want word to get out that I might be athletic enough to join a team,” Peter lightly inquired, momentarily removing the ice from his cheek. Slow to respond, Spitfire hummed while holding a hand over her mouth. “You’re still in gym class, dude, but I’ll cut you a break. We’ll do exercises away from prying eyes, but you’ll have to participate during your free periods. Are we square?” “Like a root! Because you know, square root of… Never mind,” Peter muttered, placing the ice back in place. Bemused, Spitfire arched a brow and folded her arms. “Seriously? Math humor? You really are a dork.” Pausing, she sneered with a grin. “I just joined a gang called square root two because…” “You’re irrational,” Peter chuckled, smiling widely. Spitfire nodded, matching his smile with one of her own. “Finally, someone who understands English. I’ve been waiting to brush the dust off that joke for years.” The pair shared a laugh before Peter paused. “Were you picked on at all? I read that you had one of the highest grade point averages in the region when you graduated.” Shaking her head, Spitfire glanced at a plaque on the wall. “Not really. I was able to play both sides. I was a smart tomboy. Because I was the top athlete in my class, everyone tended to dismiss my geeky side.” Spitfire smirked and shrugged. “Plus, you’re off to a bad start. I heard about your dumpster diving the other day. First impressions are important.” “So, until the next big disaster happens, my name is mud,” Peter groaned, rolling his eyes. Eventually, he could only exhale. “Nothing’s changed, so I can deal with it.” Spitfire raised a hand defensively. “Just for a little bit. With all the trends, you’ll be yesterday’s news. Heck, one of our students practically blew up a portion of the school last semester, and she’s still enrolled. Bit a damaged rep herself, but she’s getting around… in spite of her temper.” Peter blinked.”Really? Who was that?” Clearing her throat, Spitfire shook her head. “It’s not my place to say. When she’s ready, I’m sure she’ll tell you. Also, I’ll talk to Flash and get him to lighten up off of you. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a bully.” Pausing, she straightened her posture and shrugged. “I just did my own thing, and people thought I was cool for it. Granted, not everyone is that lucky. You can play both ends, too, really, but I can tell you have a personal stake as to why you wouldn’t want that.” “I was never athletic. Heck, my whole life I couldn’t even climb a monkey bar without pulling a muscle,” Peter stated, lowering his gaze, “I’ve always been smart at least, and I’m okay leaning on that above all else. I even got some letters of recommendation from Oscorp lately.” Spitfire huffed, rolling her eyes. “Sounds like a matter of pride to me, but I can respect it.” A dark tint filled the woman’s eyes as her smile faded. “And those letters from Oscorp? Do yourself a favor and burn them. Trust me when I say nothing good will come out of working with those guys.” “You sound like my aunt,” Peter huffed, lifting his gaze slightly. Lowering the ice pack, he raised a hand. “If I may ask, why did Oscorp drop their endorsements? You had one accident, but they seemed rather quick in brushing you under the rug.” Spitfire’s glare deepened, matched only by the scowl she bore. “Let’s just say we had disagreements about where my research should head. They wanted to weaponize my Vulture suit design, but I only wanted to use it to entertain people. When I refused to share my schematics, they--” As if freeing herself from a self-induced trance, Spitfire’s eyes widened and her demeanor softened. She cleared her throat and waved her hand dismissively. “Well. They cut me right afterward. Now, here I am, coaching a dork like you.” Peter chuckled sheepishly. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’re a pretty rad coach.” Snorting, Spitfire turned her head to the side and glanced at the clock overhead. “Thanks, I guess. You should go before you’re late. Leave the ice pack…” she trailed off, her mouth slowly falling agape. “Hold on. Is your bruise gone?” Slack-jawed, Peter stammered about wildly before shooting up to a standing position. “Yeah! Guess ice was what I needed! Thanks, Coach!” Faster than she could respond, Peter rushed out of the room and closed the door behind him. Unfortunately, it slammed against the hinges before the frame fell to the floor with a thud. Peter peeked back around the corner, alternating his sheepish gaze between the door and Spitfire. “Sorry! Um… I--” Spitfire blinked, simply waving off the young man before he departed. Yet, she kept a smile. “You know, that’s still not even the weirdest thing I’ve seen at this school.” Several hours had passed, but it felt as if only minutes had dragged by. Peter sat in the back of the class, listening to the history teacher’s lecture. Rather, he listened to himself more than the lesson being presented to him. Images of the Vulture played through his mind profusely, alternating being the original design and the weaponized variant he crossed paths with. Peter felt a poke against his shoulder, albeit barely, but he dismissed the thought, centering his focus on the Vulture. “Spitfire couldn’t be the Vulture-- or the bad one, I mean. She can barely get around as is, let alone fly or smash faces through walls,” Peter hummed, furrowing his brow. He straightened his posture before glancing at the ceiling. “I mean, she could still be a potential suspect. Sounds like she harbors a grudge against Oscorp. Problem is that I don’t know how the suit works. If I could guess, the exoskeleton gives the wearer super strength. Maybe it grants improved range of mobility, too? I mean, that can explain why she’s able to move in spite of the paralysis.” He paused, feeling a second poke on his shoulder, but he ignored it, tapping the end of his pencil against the side of his desk rapidly. “This is a lot of guesswork. Even Spitfire mentioned it herself that Oscorp fired her after she refused to share her schematics. For all I know, someone within the company copied and pasted her design.” Peter nodded, pursing his lips as the grip on his pencil tightened. “It’s not fair for me to immediately assume it’s Spitfire. Innocent until proven guilty, right? It seems like she’s already had it bad. The last thing she needs is for me to blow the whistle on her for something she’s probably not involved with.” Shaking his head, Peter dove further into his thoughts while unaware of the rapid tapping echoing throughout the classroom. “Oh, I can see it now. Spider-Man accuses paralyzed woman of breaking and entering! Old J.J would have a field day with that one.” The poking morphed into tapping, with a hand patting the young man’s shoulder soundly. To no avail, Peter only hummed a response obliviously. “Best I can do is stake out Oscorp for a bit. If I’m lucky, maybe the Vulture will strike again. Fury did say she’s been on a pattern stealing high-quality tech. If I follow the breadcrumbs, I’ll catch the bird out of the nest!” “Parker!” a voice shouted, freeing Peter from his self-induced trance. The pencil in his grip snapped with the upper half spinning into the air until it embedded into the ceiling. He turned at the source, sharing a glance with a stern violet gaze. A blue girl shook her head and folded her arms. “I really don’t like being ignored. That’s twice now that you’ve blown me off.” She paused, laughing once the entire class stared intently at the young man. “Plus, you were creating quite the disturbance.” Eventually, the class returned their gaze to the teacher, who had not even paid Peter’s pencil-tapping any mind. “I’ve got to stop zoning out like that,” he grumbled under his breath, attempting to return his attention to the lecture, but upon feeling the girl’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity never leave, Peter turned back to face her. “Uh… Who are you again? Pixie?” “It’s Trixie, you dunce!” she snapped, holding her tone to a whisper. Peter blinked. “Trix? Like the cereal rabbit?” “If you are trying your best to make me hate you, you are off to a wonderful start,” she blankly responded with a bemused expression. ‘You ignore and insult me. I almost get why you are picked on by everyone. You are rude.” Grumbling, Peter rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m not good at first impressions. I’ve had a rough go for the past couple of days. I tend to overthink when I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Trixie arched her brow, pausing before nodding. “Fair enough. Seeing as you are the new kid, I will forgive this transgression.” Peter stopped, frowning. “You can use transgression properly, but you use made up words like powerfulest? You are beginning to feel like a walking paradox.” “Then, it is settled! You shall become my lackey-- I mean, assistant,” Trixie boasted, brushing a hand through her silver-blue hair. She glanced to the side, humming. “At the very least, you should be an upgrade from Snips and Snails.” Slack-jawed, Peter raised a finger as if ready to protest. “Lackey? Excuse me?” Trixie raised a book over her gaze, waving her free hand. “Yes. I’ll be your guide and umbrella. You can even help me out in physics class. The way Professor Octavious talked about you shows promise.” “Octavious? We have Advanced Physics together, too?” Peter questioned, scratching the back of his head. Trixie let out a dismayed sigh before smiling evilly. “You truly are stuck in your own little world. Don’t worry. I’ll educate you so long as you recognize my greatness and powerfulestness.” After an awkward amount of time, Peter could only place a hand over his forehead and grumble. “Please. God. Make it stop.” In the dead of night, Spitfire sat in the center of a large room with a narrowed gaze. Pulling herself with a small harness until she was in an upright stance, the woman inserted a small chip into her waist belt. The mechanism placed around her legs and abdominal region stirred to life, allowing Spitfire to finally relinquish her harness and stand on her own power. She jumped in place, lifting and stretching her legs before throwing a low spin kick through a small stone. Shards of rock scattered from the impact, spreading across the floor. Spitfire eyed the damage before she walked to the desk where a computer rested. Its screen bore an image of a blueprint, with key figures, numbers, and designs. She pecked away at its keyboard, never averting her gaze from the screen. After a few minutes, Spitfire retrieved her flash drive from the computer’s port before sliding it into a hidden pocket within the wings of her armored costume. Slowly but surely, Spitfire placed each piece of armor over her frame accordingly until she stood tall. “Just two more pieces to the puzzle left,” she whispered before sliding her helmet over her head. Its visor lowered, shielding her face entirely. “Then, I can take Oscorp down in one swoop...” she stated, her deepened voice echoing throughout the building. Spreading her wings, the thrusters on her back accelerated before she took flight. “Nothing can stop the Mighty Vulture!” To Be Continued...