Peter Parker transfers to Canterlot High, all while forgings new bonds with friends and enemies. Typical Parker Luck ensues.
Life for a superhero is tough, but life for a rookie superhero is the breaks. Peter Parker is only six months into his tenure as Spider-Man, and he has already screwed up so badly that he is transferred out of New York to Canterlot High by SHIELD director, Nick Fury, personally. With a damaged reputation, can Peter find new ground in his personal and heroic life while trying to keep a low profile? Highly unlikely.
Life in general for the average Joe can be rather hectic, whether it is juggling the lifestyles of a job, marriage, or what to eat for breakfast. However, for a young teenager, Peter Parker, he would've almost paid to be Joe, and it wasn't for reasons an average person would expect. Six months ago, a simple spider bite turned a nerdy, awkward kid into a being with super strength, adhesive touch, speed, durability, and a built-in radar for danger.
Within the first month of developing these ‘super powers’, several events occurred. However, those tales are for another time. This tale begins in the ever-bustling city of New York. In a world of heroes and villains, local newcomer, Spider-Man, was just a tiny blip on the radar. He was some vigilante who stopped small crimes: preventing simple burglaries and scooping kittens from trees.
This was nothing like Captain America, Iron Man, or Thor. However, Spider-Man was not held in high regard in the city. For reasons unknown, the Daily Bugle slandered this rookie relentlessly and labeled him a menace in spite of only being around for a number of months.
Long story short, Spider-Man had a spotty reputation at best, and today things had decided to take a turn for the absolute worst. An armored van sped through the street and bulldozed its way through traffic after leaving the bank, in what was clearly a robbery; as evident by mounds of cash escaping out of its open windows and into the breeze. Spider-Man soared through the sky with a grip on a thread in pursuit of the runaway vehicle before releasing his hold, landing on its hood. He reared his head over the side, sharing a glance with the passenger.
“Holy crap! It’s the Spider-Ling!” he exclaimed, opening fire with a shotgun.
Spider-Man’s bug-like lenses narrowed as he swayed his head out of the assailent’s viewpoint and bullets. “It’s Spider-Man! Where is everyone getting Spider-Ling from?!” he replied with a crack in his voice. “It’s slander, I tell you! Though it is better than Spider-Boy, I’ll give you that much.”
Exasperated, he thrust his hand through the open window. In one swift motion, the passenger was hoisted and hurled out of the vehicle. Spider-Man shot out a thread of webbing onto the nearest street light, latching the other end to the armed man’s chestplate.
As he hung helplessly, Peter cleared his throat. “Seriously, though. It’s Spider-Man. Just Spider-Man. There’s no ‘the’ or anything like--" Peter's correction was forcibly cut short on the account of ducking aside the gunfire from the weapon the driver now brandished. Spider-Man pointed at the aggressor. "Hey! It's really rude to interrupt someone when they are trying to introduce themselves, you know. New Yorkers, am I right?"
“Shaddup!” the driver yelled from inside, firing another round through the windshield. “You’re going to be Spider-Dead if you don’t beat it!”
Several more bullets rapidly pierced through the hood of the car, forcing Spider-Man to stumble backwards out of range until his footing was lost. He bounced off the pavement, rolling for several meters before leaping high into the air and landing atop a wooden fruit stand. The object creaked in protest, eventually giving under Spider-Man’s weight. Apples scattered every which direction and spread across the street. Slack-jawed, the owner of the stand stared at his possessions before his face boiled to match an apple-red tone. Spider-Man could only sheepishly shrug as the angered man hurled descriptive expletives in his vicinity before shooting a strand of webbing, resuming his swinging pursuit.
“Spider-Dead? Yeesh, and I thought my jokes were bad,” Peter mumbled, eyeing the vehicle in the distance before glancing back at the many profanities escaping from the fruit-stand owner behind him. “Sir! I’m really sorry, but let’s not bring race into this!”
The armored vehicle swayed past several cans and bystanders, narrowly missing each obstacle with every motion. Eventually, the van left all subtlety by the wayside and rammed its way through traffic, sending cars careening towards the sidewalks. Spider-Man’s lenses widened at the sight as some of the vehicles readied to tumble onto innocent civilians.
He frantically shot dozens of balls of webbing to the underside of each vehicle, causing many threads to expand upon impact. Each car was stopped in its tracks, hanging in place throughout the streets like flies caught in a web. However, the same couldn't be said about the civilians caught in the crosshairs, leaving just as many people as there were cars stuck in place. Like the fruit stand owner prior, the people had many choice words for the fledgling vigilante.
Spider-Man’s masked eyes furrowed while a defeated sigh escaped from his mouth. “This has been a very merry morning. I oversleep, miss breakfast, and I’m two hours late for school!” he exclaimed as a late realization struck his mind like lightning to a rod. Lifting his legs, Spider-Man threw himself forward with greater haste and caught up to the van. “Let’s finish this before things get even worse! Aunt May’s going to kill me if she finds out I’m late again!”
As if on cue, the back of the van swung open with a spray of loose cash to reveal two rough-shaven men, each brandishing a rocket launcher. Before he could even utter a response, both shots were fired. Spider-Man contorted his body, narrowly avoiding the two missiles in midair. The world around Peter slowed while he stared down the projectiles, one speeding towards a busy street while the other’s trajectory shifted in the direction of a public transport bus.
In a panic, Peter once again extended both hands and shot a strand of webbing onto both missiles, keeping his grip. However, the missiles proved chaotic, spinning wildly until both strands were tangled. Spider-Man was snatched from midair and thrown to the ground with a thud, losing his hold of one of the threads in the process while barely hanging onto the second. The ballistic projectile then spiraled uncontrollably through the air, dangerously close to ground level, before it sped across an empty lot, burst through the corner edge of a building and detonated.
This alone was bad, but evident by Peter’s sharp intake of breath, it proved to be a worst-case scenario. An explosion erupted from Midtown High School, sending debris flying about. Soon, a second explosion erupted from the flame, and before long, half of the building collapsed onto itself in a burning heap. The entire world honed in on the area, from fire trucks to news anchors.
Only two things coursed through everyone’s minds. This was clearly Spider-Man’s fault, and ironically (and embarrassingly), thank God it was Saturday.
Several hours passed, but the headlines were ever relentless. Back at his home, Peter could only sit on the couch with his face resting in his palms and listen haplessly as James Jonah Jameson threw in his two cents on the newscast.
“You see?! This right here is why I say the things that I say! Spider-Man is no hero! He’s a menace!” he exclaimed, banging his fist against the desk. “We can’t rely on some half-cocked vigilante to handle our issues. Our local law enforcement can take care of two-bit criminals. Instead, Spider-Man manages to blow up a school!” He paused, inhaling deeply before howling. “Yes, we are fortunate no one was harmed, but what happens otherwise?! Now the stove is hot, and that coward is nowhere to be found! I’ll string him up by his webs and--!”
“Oh, hush,” a soft voice firmly yet gently stated. Before Jameson could finish his colorful description, the television screen dissipated. Suddenly, an older woman with short brown with a few strands of gray mixed in sat next to Peter, offering a smile. “That’s the problem with the news. It is almost never good,” she whispered, placing a hand over Peter’s thigh. “You tried your best, sweetie. The important thing is that you and no one else was injured. Jameson has been harassing you ever since you started.”
Peter inhaled deeply before sighing. “Really feel like I just justified everything with today’s blunder, Aunt May. It’s not everyday a guy manages to destroy an entire school in one blow. Bad gasoline or not, I always seem to hit the bankrupt lottery. That’s the Parker luck, Chuck.”
May paused, arching a brow. “I’m just more amazed that you managed to mix up your days again. Curfews and calendars exist for a reason. The all-nighters have to stop, son.”
Peter opened his mouth, ready to respond, clearing his throat upon spotting May’s firm glare. “So you found out about those, huh?” Letting out a defeated sigh, Peter could only frown and lower his head. “So what is the sentence this time? Are we talking a slap on the wrist or solitary confinement? Maybe no allowance for the next three thousand years? I hear waterboarding is all the rage overseas.”
In one swift motion, May thrust Peter’s costume into a box before doing the same with his mask and web-shooters. “No more Spider-Man until you learn to balance it with your schooling and housework. Your grades are slipping, your attendance is bad, and your room is always a mess. If you didn’t ace all of your tests, there’s no telling how behind you would be. Are we clear?” May raised an eyebrow as she waited for a response.
“Crystal clear. I still study, but I totally get where you are coming from,” Peter exhaled. In spite of all of his newfound strength, he was just as powerless as any child to a parent, and in his world, May was the law. The young man simply nodded. “It’s probably best I stay off the radar for a while anyway.”
May stood over Peter for what seemed like an eternity before her stern gaze finally softened. “We both know why you’re doing this. I’ve supported your decision since the start, but there has to be a balance. You know he wouldn’t want you to lose out on your education for his sake. You are too brilliant and gifted to let that happen.”
A firm set of knocks were heard at the door, prompting both May and Peter to pause. The young man left his seat, gesturing for his aunt to take his place with a wave. Approaching the door, Peter turned the knob and slowly opened it, revealing a tall and older man clad in dark attire. He glared at the young man with a scowl, narrowing his gaze as Peter stared at his eyepatch.
After an uncomfortable silence, Peter stammered. “Um… Can I help you?”
His posture ever poised, the ebony-skinned man placed his hands over his hips. “No, but I can help you. Nick Fury, director of SHIELD.”
“You’re who from what now?” Peter blurted out, tilting his head to the side with an arched brow.
“Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. SHIELD. Don’t worry. We’re discreet,” Fury nonchalantly stated, holding out his badge before placing it back in his pocket. He walked his way past Peter, shifting his gaze around the room. Once the door was closed, Fury’s frown deepened. “That was quite the show you put on, kid. It was like a car crash that I couldn’t stop watching.”
Peter tilted his head to the side, furrowing his brow. “What are you talking about?”
Rolling his eyes. Fury exhaled. “Don’t play dumb, kid. I know that you’re Spider-Man.”All of the air in the room grew cold, evident by Peter’s pale demeanor. Just as May opened her mouth to speak, Fury raised a hand. “And I know that you know he’s Spider-Man. It’s my job to know everything that goes in the world. Like that drug sting you busted last night. You didn’t make it back home until four in the morning.It’s no wonder your days are screwed up.”
“Four in the morning?! Peter Benjamin Parker! Are you kidding me? You are grounded for life!” Aunt May shouted, throwing a hand over her mouth.
Peter blankly stared at Fury. “Well, thanks. I’ve known you for two minutes, and I already hate you.”
May cleared her throat after an awkward silence, shushing her nephew with a glare. She simply blinked before her eyes widened, as if a thought struck her mind. “So you are a government official? CIA?”
Fury huffed, chuckling under his breath. “CIA? That’s cute. No. CIA doesn’t even know about us. So are you two going to cooperate and hear me out? I can blow the whistle on you two if you aren’t willing to comply.”
Inhaling deeply before letting out a low sigh, May motioned for Peter to take a seat next to her. Once situated, she glared at the man. “No need. Sure. The secret is out. How many know?”
Fury shook his head. “Just me. I’ve known for about three months now. Nothing has been stored in the SHIELD database. Consider this a ‘personal endeavor’.”
“So you’re a spy? Like 007? Prove it! What do you all know about me?” Peter blurted out, leaning forward in his seat.
The corner of Nick Fury’s lips curled as he reached into one of his pockets. “I’m many things, kid.”
He retrieved a small cube device before placing it on the table. Small holographic images materialized and hovered overhead, revealing walls of texts and images of Spider-Man. Fury used his fingers to scroll through the information. May’s mouth fell agape at the bright display of technology.
Peter matched her expression, his eyes practically glowing. “Okay. That’s so cool! It’s like Star Trek in 3D!”
“Super strength, bio-magnetic touch, enhanced agility and durability,” Fury stated, arching a brow at an image of Peter dodging bullets at point blank range. “Fantastic reaction speed, almost as if you knew an attack was coming.”
May and Peter glanced at each other before the young man shifted his gaze back to Fury. “Ever since I got my abilities, all of my senses have been cranked up to eleven, and I can feel everything around me. Like…” he trailed off, swiping his hand to the side. Peter’s fingers held a fly in place by its wings before releasing it, allowing the bug to resume its flight. “I can get the worst migraines at times. So I find ways to help focus.”
Fury opened the box containing Peter’s costume, rubbing a thumb over the thick lenses. “That explains a lot. I take it that these keep your senses from overloading?” Peter simply nodded, earning a firm smile from Fury. “That’s pretty impressive, kid. The fact that you created this on your own shows another gift you have that I forgot to mention: you’re smart. Even before your ‘accident’, I checked your school records and saw that you have a brilliant mind. Your grades match Tony Stark’s and Reed Richards when they were your age. Right now, you have the highest GPA in the region and it's not even close.”
Peter tilted his head to the side. “So what do you want from me exactly?”
“To help you,” Fury bluntly declared, closing the holographic device before placing it back into his pocket. “Kid-- No. Peter-- you have probably the most promise and potential of all the heroes I’ve ever studied and met. But right now, you are reckless, sloppy, green, and in dire need of a fresh start. You blowing up that school is a PR nightmare, and you’ve become the poster child for media victimization and why vigilantes need to be reigned in.”
May narrowed her gaze, squeezing Peter’s shoulder firmly yet gently. “How do you plan to help my nephew? I figured you would arrest him or worse, but that’s obviously not your intention.”
Fury folded his arms. “Relocation. I will be moving you to a new revenue and home, and Peter will be transferring to a new school. The city is small and practically sealed off. It will give the kid a chance to lie low until the bad press blows over. Plus, it’s easier for me to monitor your movements there. New York is chock full of heroes and villains. Where I’m sending you will be a welcome change of pace.”
“What does that mean?” Peter questioned, folding his arms.
Fury smirked. “You’ll find out. You’ll help the town as much as it will help you.”
Exhaling loudly, Peter threw up his hands in a frustrated manner. “That answer is just as cryptic!”
Ignoring the teenager, Fury turned his attention back to May. “I will also ensure you are financially provided for until you're able find a new job to maintain yourself, Mrs. Parker.”
May’s eyes widened at the prospect. “That’s… very generous of you.” The older woman let out a relieved sigh, allowing her face to rest in the palms of her hands. “Thank God.”
“From here on, I will be monitoring you, Peter Parker. Don’t call me. I’ll call you. So make sure you don’t blow your cover or any more buildings, okay?” Fury dryly muttered, furrowing his brow.
Blinking, Peter scratched the back of his head. “We can pretend like I have a say in the matter, but I will save us the trouble.”
Fury chuckled under his breath. “I knew you were a smart kid. I think we’ll get along as long as you follow my rules.I just have one more question.” Sobering, Nick stared intently at the costume within the box. “Why are you doing this? You help people then you disappear, and you aren’t getting paid for it… which means you aren’t in this for the glory or money. Call it a hunch, but I want to hear it from you before I help.”
Exhaling softly, Peter glanced off to the side before shifting his gaze to Fury. “Someone has to look out for the little guy. I just want people to know that as long as I’m around, they won’t be ignored. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Is that right?” Fury whispered, staring Peter down as his shoulders dipped. He glanced to the side, noticing May’s similar shift in demeanor. After an awkward silence, Fury huffed before smirking with a nod. “Fair enough, kid. Say goodbye to New York.”
As if on cue, a few people walked into the room dressed in blue movers’ attire, boxing every item in reach. As they repeated the process and readied to move on to the furniture, Fury offered May a small envelope.
“We’ll be flying you out immediately. By the time you land, everything will be in place at the presented address.Take a few days to get familiar with the town and see which of the two schools you’d like to enroll the kid in. I’ve already sent both schools his transcript information.”
Peter stared blankly at Fury, frowning. “There’s planning ahead and then there’s this. It’s like you knew this was going to happen.” The movers were efficient, having completed the house in mere minutes. Life was moving ahead without him. Peter let out a defeat sigh and shrugged. “So just where are we going?”
“Someplace colorful,” Fury muttered offhandedly, allowing the corner of his lips to curl into a smile before he exited the room. “Good luck, kid.”
Peter’s mouth slowly opened, letting out a low yawn. The hours were early, evident by the bright beams of light invading through the open blinds of the window. He lazily watched his aunt with half-closed eyes before refocusing his attention on the bowl of cereal before him.
Scurrying across the kitchen, May completed various tasks without a second thought. She dropped a plate next to his bowl before dropping slices of bacon, fresh toast, and an apple onto its surface. Peter finished the contents in his bowl, exhaling before devouring the contents on his plate in mere seconds.
Stealing a glance from the corner of her eye, May smiled sweetly and handed Peter his backpack. “I made sure to pack you a couple of extra sandwiches to get you through the day.”
“Thanks, Aunt May,” he uttered mid-yawn, lifting his gaze slightly. “How are things at the homeless shelter? Are you okay?”
May nodded. “Pretty good. We just exhausted the extra funds, but I’m glad I have a steady job finally. I’ll be fine.”
“Did we really go through it all already?” Peter questioned with an arched brow.
Shaking her head, May paused to wipe her hands clean with a cloth. Her hands shook nervously before she exhaled. “No. I put most of it away for your college fund.”
Peter gazed at his aunt with a softened expression. “Aunt May, are you serious? I’ll see if I can find a part-time job then. If I can help you even a little bit…”
“Shush, Peter. I just want you to focus on school right now. Though it is sweet of you to think about me. You always give me as much love as Ben did,” she murmured, feeling the temperature in her face rise. Ignoring Peter’s incoherent grumbles, May took his used dishes and slid them into the sink. “Are you excited about your first day? I hear Canterlot High is a fantastic school.”
Slow to respond, Peter scoffed as he checked the contents of his backpack. “I’m sure anything will be better than Crystal Prep Academy. The past semester at that school sucked.”
Clearing her throat, May waved a hand dismissively. “I believe your issue was more with that principal and her harsh obsession with you. Fortunately, Mr. Fury was willing to accommodate us and allowed you to transfer again. Thankfully, Crystal Prep and Canterlot High are neighboring school districts, so making the switch wasn’t too much of a hassle. Despite the issues, you still had the highest GPA in the school. That carries over, too.”
Peter inhaled deeply before letting out a low sigh. “I really didn’t fit in there. I felt like a poor kid surrounded by the rich and fabulous. Everyone just felt stuck up for the most part, especially the girls. Not to mention that purple one who acted like she hated me for existing. Then again, maybe it’s my charm.” Sobering, his expression softened. “I hate complaining, but I’m glad you heard me out.”
May’s smile widened before she placed a warm kiss on Peter’s forehead. “I’m just glad you told me how you felt before things could get bad. You and Ben have always had that Parker pride in you.” A realization struck her mind like lightning to a rod, prompting May to shift Peter from his seat and lead him out of the kitchen. “That was then. This is now. Hurry and get to school before you are late! Love you!”
“Love you, too!” Peter hastily declared, grabbing his backpack and zipping it shut before sliding its straps over his shoulders.
Everything blurred as the young man ran out of the door, his thoughts blending together. His new avenue matched that of a small town like Queens, yet the school he was about to attend was placed amidst a city. While it was not as wide as New York City, it was respectable in scale. Peter jogged through the neighborhood, cutting through several yards before quickly reaching the outskirts of the city. The young man slid into an alleyway and paused, eyeing his environment with a steady gaze.
Once certain he was alone, Peter hopped onto the side of the building and jogged vertically up its wall to the top. Flipping high overhead, he landed perfectly on his feet before bursting into a sprint without losing momentum. Nearing the edge, Peter jumped forward and soared effortlessly through the air until he reached the top of another building. He repeated the process, jumping and flipping seamlessly from one building to another before skidding to a halt at the edge of a rooftop..
Peter peered down from his height, eyeing a large building beneath his position. “There it is. Canterlot High,” he whispered, placing his hands behind his head before stretching in place. Inhaling deeply before sighing, Peter eyed the scattered array of students approaching the school grounds and some mingling. “I just hope these guys aren’t as… uptight as the ones in Crystal Prep.”
“Guess you’ll just have to find out,” a voice firmly stated from behind, causing Peter to nearly jump in place with a shriek. Once his heart settled, the young man set his gaze on the intruder, and his eyes widened at the sight of Nick Fury stepping from the shadows with a half-eaten apple in his hand. Ignoring Peter’s clear exasperation, Fury took another bite from his fruit. “Hello, Spider-Man. Glad to see you’ve been taking my advice.”
Peter shook his head, snapping his gaze about his surroundings. “Wha--?! How’d you know I was here?! Have you been stalking me?! How did you even get up here?!”
“I took the stairs. It’s my job to know where everyone is, and I told you from the start that I would be keeping my eye on you. Besides, you run the same routes every morning. It’s easy to pinpoint where you are going,” Fury stated in a matter-of-fact tone, shrugging.
Peter’s frown deepened. “So you are stalking me. Glad to see you’re honest about it. Doesn’t make it any less creepy.”
“Comes with the territory, kid,” Fury replied, ignoring Peter’s glare. He glanced to the side once Peter seemed to have relaxed, evident by his slouched shoulders. “No surprise about Crystal Prep. You aren’t the elitist type, but I’m surprised you stuck it out for a semester without making a scene.”
Scoffing, Peter rolled his eyes. “Aunt May said the same thing, but it’s no big deal. I swear the principal was nuts.” Blinking, Peter raised his hand. “I’ve been meaning to ask something, not that it’s a big deal or anything.”
Folding his arms, Fury huffed. “Okay. What is it?”
Peter pointed at the civilians beneath their position. “It’s the people in this region. May and I couldn’t figure it out, but I feel like I walked into a Skittles factory. What’s with everyone’s skin color? Is it a mutation?”
“Something like that. There’s something in the air but nothing malicious. It’s similar to the x-gene, but it only extends to the pigmentation of one’s skin,” Fury muttered, brushing a hand across his chin.
“So they’re mutants to a degree? Just without the powers?” Peter questioned with a furrowed brow.
“For the most part. It’s a combination of science and something else, but we’ll talk about that more another day. It’d be no fun if I didn’t let you figure some things out, kid,” Fury declared with a shrug.
Peter shook his head with a frown. “Thanks for yet another cryptic answer. That’s not annoying at all.”
“You calling me annoying is like the pot calling the kettle black, Parker,” Fury snorted with a smirk, pausing to slide a hand into his pocket before retrieving a tiny box. “Well, I just wanted to give you something. Don’t open this until you get home.” Pausing, Nick’s brow furrowed into a stern gaze. “I’m serious. Open this before you make it home and I’ll know.”
Peter accepted the item, tilting his head to the side. “What is it?”
“Consider it an act of good faith,” Fury declared, turning before walking towards the shadows. He paused, glancing at Peter from the corner of his eye. “Have a good day at school, kid. Try not to blow it.”
Peter winced, groaning inwardly. “Too soon.” He approached Fury’s position, but his eyes widened upon failing to locate the SHIELD agent. His brow furrowed at the small device in his hand. “Okay. That was enlightening. Guess I’ll check out the secret box later.” Shrugging, Peter slid the device into his backpack, and a realization struck his mind like lightning to a rod. “Oh, crap! I’m going to be late!”
Peering over the side of the building, Peter climbed down into the alleyway and landed on the ground once certain no one was in the proximity. Inhaling deeply, he approached the school with a mixed expression. While many of the bright-colored individuals paid him no mind, there were enough stares to make the outsider feel out of place. Peter paused and glanced to the side at a group of girls whispering among themselves.
“It’s because I’m not green, isn’t it?” Peter grumbled inwardly before pausing once he walked around a corner. Sliding a hand into his pocket, the young man retrieved a list of sorts allotted with times. His eyes scrolled through the paper as a rough sigh escaped from his mouth. “Maybe I’m being pessimistic. What happened at Crystal Prep was an isolated incident. I bet everyone here is way nicer. Like Aunt May said, this is a reset.”
“Well, look at who it is!” a voice called out, prompting Peter to turn at the sound. A large young man flanked by clearly the popular boys and girls of the school approached with broad shoulders and a smug grin. His bright blond hair was shortly cut, and he wore a football sports jacket, bearing the school’s colors. Once inches apart, he stretched his arms out to the side. “Puny Parker! Small world, huh?”
Peter sighed inwardly as his complexion paled. “Too small. How’s it going, Flash?”
“That’s Flash Thompson Sir to you, Parker!” the bullish man declared, chuckling wildly. He shared a glance with his friends, all of which were sharing his laughter. “Pretty great! This school ain’t half bad, and I get my favorite punching bag back!” Flash soon placed a hand over Peter’s shoulder and smirked devilishly. “Let’s catch up.”
All in one motion, Flash hoisted Peter from the ground and tossed his small frame into an open dumpster. Everyone in the vicinity laughed wildly at the display as Peter’s feet stuck up from the opening. Flash waved his hand dismissively and walked away, prompting his friends to follow suit. Peter easily climbed from the garbage, brushing debris from his person upon reaching the ground. All bystanders simply ignored his plight, paying no mind what had transpired.
Peter could only roll his eyes as he checked his backpack, ensuring nothing had escaped. “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry!” a soft voice declared from behind, causing Peter to turn at the sound. His eyes widened at the bright sight of crimson and gold accompanied with tanned skin and blue-green eyes. Placing a hand over her chest, this girl stared intently at Peter, earning an uncomfortable shift in demeanor from him. However, she remained oblivious as evident by her softened expression. “You’ll have to excuse Flash. He’s only been here for a few months, but he’s already completely taken over.”
Peter cleared his throat and grumbled under his breath. “Not really surprising. Flash was a big deal back in Midtown High since he was the captain of the football and basketball team. He’s just picking up where he left off.”
“Ah, so you know each other. It explains why he was so quick to single you out,” she stated, brushing off debris from Peter’s person. Pausing once the young man furrowed his brow, she took a step back and tilted her head to the side. “That means you must be new around here.”
“Brand new. I had a new car smell to me before it was replaced with garbage. Today is my first day. I just transferred from Midtown to Crystal Prep, but I only stayed there for a semester,” Peter muttered, still avoiding the girl’s wide and bright gaze.
Taken aback, the girl blinked. “Crystal Prep? That’s impressive. I hear only kids with exceptional GPAs and IQs are accepted there. Sorry that your first day is off to a rocky start here, but I swear it will get better from here.” As if a realization just struck her mind, the girl’s eyes widened as she let out a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry! I just realized that I’m making things awkward for you. I never asked you for your name or gave you mine. My name’s Sunset Shimmer. What’s yours?”
Peter was slow to respond before finally shaking his head. “Um, Peter Parker.” He paused, glancing to the side once again. Some spectators stared at the pair with hardened gazes, scowling while others whispered under their breaths. Peter frowned. “Geez. Was it something I did?”
“N-No. That’s more likely aimed at me,” Sunset stammered, her voice lowering. Looking away with an ashamed expression, she walked away in a haste but paused momentarily. “Hey. I-I’m late for class. Hopefully I’ll see you around.”
Before he could utter a response, Sunset had already walked out of hearing range. Peter could shrug as the surrounding spectators had taken their leave as well. “What was that about? Maybe she doesn't want to be seen around me either? I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time, and I did just go dumpster diving.” Groaning, Peter wiped away the last of unwanted debris from his backpack. However, his sight narrowed on a piece of paper stuck on its side before he peeled it free. “What’s this?”
He stared intently at the labels and designs scattered across the poster, reading ‘The Mighty Vulture. Spitfire: World’s Greatest Stuntwoman’. It showcased a woman's skin as bright as the sun with strands of fiery orange hair escaping from her helmet, flying effortlessly through the sky. She wore an armored suit with her arms fully extended, allowing a pair of metallic wings to stretch out. A pair of dark orange eyes could be seen beneath the protective goggles she wore.
“Whoa! This looks so cool! I never heard of this person,” Peter exclaimed, quickly placing the poster in his backpack. “I’ll have to look her up when I get the chance. I wonder what materials she uses for her wings.” Pausing, Peter glanced at the watch on his wrist before cursing under his breath. He skipped to his feet and broke into a jog. “Stupid! I’m going to be late!”
Peter pushed through each hallway, analyzing his surroundings. His curses grew louder with each wrong turn, but after what seemed like an eternity, he eventually found his destination. Retrieving his schedule, he read ‘First Period: Advanced Physics’ before nodding. The young man knocked at the door before slowly pushing it open, and he forced the lump in his throat down with a hard swallow upon receiving the collective gazes of every student in the room. The teacher simply approached Peter with a bemused glare.
“Class started fifteen minutes ago. Most try to sneak in, but you actually knocked. I’ll at least give you credit for honesty. Is there a reason you are just now making it in?” he coldly questioned, earning snickers from a majority of the class. He straightened his large glasses, brushing a hand through his fading hair.
Peter sheepishly chuckled. “Hi! Um, yes. It’s my first day! I got lost along the way.”
The teacher’s demeanor softened, evident by his widened gaze. “Ah, you are the new transfer that I’ve been hearing about from Midtown and Crystal Prep. Peter Parker, I presume? From what I gather, you are quite brilliant for one so young. Even if you are lazy as well.” Some of the students exhaled at the teacher’s praises before he retook his position by the board.”At least… so I hear. I hope you prove the statements right and wrong. Don’t disappoint me.”
Flustered, Peter nodded. “Y-Yes, sir.”
The man's demeanor softened. “Anyway, my name is Dr. Octavious. Mr. Parker, feel free to take a seat anywhere.”
Several hours had passed, and late afternoon dusk had begun to settle in. Peter had finally returned home, easing himself into the abode. The door creaked in protested, prompting May to turn at the sound, and she could only smile warmly at the sight of her nephew. Before Peter could react, May wrapped her arms around his slender frame, but he eased into her embrace, reveling in her warmth.
“Welcome back,” May sweetly whispered, blinking as her nose twitched. Her brow furrowed. “Son, why does it smell like you went dumpster diving?”
Peter huffed, waving his hand dismissively. “That’s because I did, courtesy of Flash Thompson. Not quite the reunion I was hoping for. I miss him like a hernia.”
May frowned. “Flash Thompson transferred to your new school? What are the odds? That is truly some Parker luck.” She paused, walking into the kitchen before retrieving a small pastry from the nearest counter. “I made wheatcakes if it helps you feel better.”
The sweet scent entered Peter’s nostrils, and he let out a satisfied sigh instinctively before accepting the treat. “You know I love your wheatcakes, Aunt May.” Peter downed the treat in a couple of bites, earning a large smile from the older woman. “I’d really love it if there were more? Do I have to twist your arm?”
May waved a finger objectively. “Nice try, but you have to eat dinner first.” She pointed a thumb at the kitchen while chuckling under her breath. “When you get settled in, come eat.”
Peter simply nodded before unzipping his backpack, taking time to unload his books and papers. However, he paused upon retrieving a small metal box and stared intently at its design. “Oh, yeah. This is the thing Fury gave me.”
“You saw Nick Fury this morning? What did he give you?” May questioned, taking a seat on the sofa next to her nephew.
Shrugging, Peter alternated his gaze between the device and his aunt. “I don’t know. He really didn’t want me to open it until I came back home.”
He inhaled deeply before pressing a small button on its side.Suddenly, the gears within tumbled, causing the device to unfold and flatten. Peter and May’s eyes widened at what was revealed. A costume similar to his Spider-Man design stretched out across the table, yet there were additions that differentiated it from the original. Thick yet flexible white pieces of armor were placed along the hands and ankles. The biggest change was the large white spider placed at the center of the chest and back, acting as an emblem.
Peter slid his hands underneath the costume, allowing his fingers to feel the smooth spandex. “How… did he know?”
May tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
Just before Peter could respond, a light materialized into existence at the center of the device, and a holographic image of Fury took form. “Congratulations, Spider-Man. If you’re seeing this message, that means you actually listened to me.” He smirked, holding a small switch in his hand. “If you hadn’t, a failsafe would have triggered and the box would have exploded. And yes. I am dead serious.”
Blinking, Peter grumbled under his breath. “This guy is unbelievable.” A long silence filled the room before Peter’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Holy crap. I had a bomb on me the entire time!”
“What were you thinking keeping something like that on you! You already blew up one school already! Plus it’s dangerous!” May blurted out, pointing sharply at the young man.
Raising his hands defensively, Peter shook his head madly. “Okay. One! That’s a low blow, Aunt May! Two! I didn’t know! Fury was the one who gave me the thing! And three! I’ve been grounded for half a year! You think I want another punishment on top of my current one?”
May paused, frowning at Peter for what seemed like an eternity before she finally turned her attention to the image of Fury. “He brings up a good point. That was pretty careless of you, Mr. Fury. What would have happened if someone stole Peter’s bag or he somehow misplaced the box?”
Exhaling harshly, Fury folded his arms. “Don’t insult my intelligence. I’m monitoring the entire situation, and I installed multiple failsafes. If someone else got hold of it, I’d know.” His eye sharpened into a glare. “You don’t have my job and stay alive as long as I have by being sloppy. Trust me.”
“Aunt May? You’re arguing with a pre-recorded message,” Peter politely intervened, meekly raising a hand.
The image of Fury turned to face Peter with a bemused expression. “Who says this is pre-recorded, you dumb kid?”
Slack-jawed, Peter edged closer to the image with gritted teeth. “You don’t start off a normal not recorded message with ‘If you are seeing this message’…” Peter could only throw up his hands in defeat before pulling at his hair. “Oh, my God! You are such a troll!”
May tapped Peter’s shoulder and held a finger over her mouth. “Shush.”
Fury waved his hand, prompting another image to appear, and an array of notes flashed on screen. “Before I was interrupted… If you recognize the design, the schematics are yours. I found your notebook containing upgrade ideas for your Spider-Man. Don’t worry. I didn’t take anything. I merely made a copy.”
“It’s still an invasion of privacy,” Peter murmured, clearing his throat upon receiving a glare from his aunt.
Fury’s finger scrolled through the schematics. “I know you dumpster dive for your supplies, and that’s why you couldn’t afford to make the upgrades yourself. Consider this an act of good faith. From here, you are on your own. You can’t rebuild your image sitting around. I sent you here to be my eyes and ears. See something, say something. I’ll be watching you very closely, kid. Good luck.”
The image of Fury dissipated before the device shorted out with a spark, rendering it useless. Peter narrowed his gaze on the costume in his grasp. “You know, I really can’t read that guy.” He paused as his head snapped up at a realization. “Wait. When did he have time to go through my stuff and find my notes?!”
May hummed. “He did say his job was discreet. If he’s higher than the CIA like he says, there’s no telling when he made a copy of your notes.” Lowering her head, May brushed a hand through her reddish-gray locks before nodding. “It’s been long enough. Starting tomorrow, you are ungrounded. Go be Spider-Man again.”
Peter’s eyes beamed, matching the wide smile on his face. “Thanks, Aunt May!”
Sobering, she reached out and gently took hold of Peter’s hand before caressing it. “Just promise me that you’ll talk to me about everything that happens and don’t fall behind on your studies. Okay?”
Nodding, Peter pulled May’s hand near his mouth before kissing it. “Okay. I promise.”
As if satisfied with the response, May nodded and smiled before standing from her seat. “All right. Dinner’s ready. Let’s go eat.”
Peter nodded as well, placing his backpack to the side. “Okay. Coming.” He stole a glance, his eyes widening at the small poster that slid free from the confines of the unzipped bag. Peter took hold of the paper before following his aunt into the kitchen. “Hey,Aunt May! Have you ever heard of this ‘Vulture’ lady? Think we can watch some of her stuff after we eat?”
Chapter Two “The Fall and Rise of the Mighty Vulture”
“Hey, new kid.” A yellow hand entered Peter's vision and pushed his laptop closed. He looked up before finishing the remnants of his second sandwich with a pair of chomps and found an orange-haired woman in a wheelchair holding out a lump of clothing. “Here's your uniform. I still say this is way too big for you, but whatever floats your boat, I guess.”
Peter chuckled sheepishly before accepting the items. “Thanks. I know it sounds weird, but I have flabby skin. This helps hide that.”
“Flabby, huh?” the woman blankly questioned, arching a brow before simply shrugging her shoulders dismissively. “Whatever saves your ego, I guess.” She slowly turned her wheelchair around, preparing to depart. “Don’t worry about dressing out today. Just take in the sights, but I expect you to participate tomorrow. Understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Peter replied, nodding.
The woman shook her head and scoffed, wincing. “I know you’re just being polite, but leave off the ma’am. I’m barely any older than you are. I just graduated two years ago.” She lowered her shades enough to freely glance at Peter. “Just stick with Coach. Coach Spitfire.”
Slow to respond, Peter’s brow furrowed. “Yeah… Coach Spitfire.” Suddenly, as if a realization just struck his mind, Peter’s eyes widened. “Wait a second. Spitfire? As in the Mighty Vulture, Spitfire?”
Huffing, the woman allowed the corner of her lips to curl into a small smirk. “Yeah. That’s me. Although it feels like a lifetime ago since I went by that.” Her demeanor softened as a low sigh escaped from her mouth. Yet, Spitfire cleared her throat and lifted her head. “You’ve heard of me? That’s surprising. From what I read on your file, you aren’t necessarily from our neck of the woods.”
Peter slid a hand into his pocket and retrieved a poster, unfolding it before pointing a finger at Spitfire’s image at the center. “Not really, but I’ve been reading and watching your documentaries since I moved here. Your work is incredible, especially on your flight suit! Are the wings made out of uranium alloy? It would explain the flexibility needed to bend. What do you use to compensate for the weight needed for flight?”
Spitfire blinked before she chuckled, allowing her small smirk to morph into a large smile. “That’s what the thrusters are for. With the right proportions, flight is effortless, but the weight and thrust have to match, otherwise trajectory gets thrown out of whack.” Clearing her throat, Spitfire slid her shades back over her face before offering her hand to Peter. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to go tech geek and someone actually understands me. Sounds like you have a knack for engineering. What’s your name again?”
“Peter Parker,” he stated, accepting the woman’s gesture.
Once the pair shook hands, Spitfire turned around and rolled out of the vicinity. Peter simply walked back to the bleachers, putting the clothes he was given into the safety of his backpack. Pulling his laptop back over his thigh, the young man reopened a page. As he scrolled through a wall of text and images of Spitfire, a video at the corner began to play, and it documented the woman’s history.
Spitfire was one of Canterlot High’s greatest students. A prodigy for her age, she was not only an ideal athlete, being the region’s top gymnast, but a marvelous genius, earning top honors. She had a natural talent for engineering, placing highly in each year’s scientific expeditions. One design in particular that caught the eye of the world was her flight suit, granting her full control of her airspace.
Spitfire’s accolades were so great that she earned a scholarship through Oscorp Industries. Yet, Spitfire’s calling card was not science, but showmanship. She was an athlete first. With her flight suit and athletic prowess, Spitfire joined the Wonderbolts as their premier aerial stuntwoman. Oscorp funded her research as she performed, earning the admiration of peers..
Spitfire dominated the air and defied gravity with the greatest of ease, like a bird taking flight. She was thus dubbed ‘The Mighty Vulture.’ However, with every meteoric rise, there must come a fall. For Spitfire, it was a cruel metaphor. It was just a normal show, so one would believe. Spitfire soared through the sky, like Icarus did so close to the sun, but like a meteor, she soon fell, crashing to the earth.
While her flight suit protected her from fatal injuries, it could only stop so much. Spitfire was paralyzed from the waist down. Her work as a stuntwoman was over. Spitfire stepped away from the Wonderbolts, and she lost all endorsements from Oscorp Industries soon after. As of today, Spitfire works as a gym coach for Canterlot High. Oscorp cited that they dropped Spitfire due to budget cuts and wished her well in her future endeavors.
Peter’s brow furrowed as he continued to watch the video. “Man, that sucks. I thought she might have just been temporarily injured, but I didn’t think the wheelchair was permanent.” Shaking his head, the young man inhaled deeply before sighing. He opened the window, pausing the video of Spitfire mid flight tumble. Peter pursed his lips and murmured under his breath. “I wonder what happened? Was there a short in the suit, or…?”
Before the young man could continue contemplating, a loud bell rang through the vicinity. Every student stopped in their tracks, heading back indoors. Peter eyed the large clock perched on the central building overhead, nodding in affirment as his own stomach growled in protest. Closing his laptop before sliding it into the confines of his backpack, Peter walked down the bleachers and headed for the cafeteria.
Meanwhile, Spitfire watched all of the students from the edge of the field with a narrowed gaze. Gripping the wheels of her chair, she turned into the building before bumping the nearest wall. All of her momentum ceased, and the woman growled, slamming her fist into the arm of the chair. Clouds of rage circled through her mind, evident by her gritted teeth, but Spitfire inhaled deeply before releasing a harsh groan.
She eyed her legs longingly, as if pleading for motion to come back to them. Shaking her head, Spitfire frowned before resuming her course. Eventually, she reached her office in a huff and locked the door behind her. The woman retrieved a bag from underneath her desk. Many thoughts ran through her mind, sending her spirit into a frenzy, but she soon gathered her nerve, gripping her handles soundly.
“It’s now or never. I have to make my move tonight,” she whispered, placing the bag over her lap before leaving the office. As she rolled down the hallway, her fiery gaze narrowed into a glare. “I’ll make them pay for what they did to me.”
The doors crept open before swinging wide. Many clamored about, talking about sweet nothings and the latest trends, while others ate what was presented as food. Many were broken off into groups, from the top hierarchy to the bottom of the barrel. As Peter entered the large room with a bemused stare, he was reminded of the glories of the fabled ‘lunch time.’ Sadly, as a new kid, even the bottom of the barrel (the school’s outcast of dorks, nerds, and dweebs) considered him too low for even their standard.
“Let’s see. Everyone either hates me or doesn’t know me. They’d rather kick my butt, ignore me, or pretend I don’t even exist,” Peter groaned, shrugging, “It’s like I never left Midtown at all.”
With a defeated sigh, Peter glanced around the room. Every table had seemed occupied with many groups, none of which were offering friendly glances upon spotting the lone man. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Peter spotted an available space in the corner. It was a recluse’s dream, free from most prying eyes and quiet compared to the noise generated from the rest of the room. Unfortunately, just as Peter readied himself to take the spot, a hand fell over his shoulder. A tingling sensation coursed through his cranium in response, forcing Peter to slam his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the warning.
“Hey, Parker! Fancy seeing you here again!” Flash exclaimed, grinning widely.
Shaking his head, Peter could only curse his willingness to ignore his Spider Sense and muscle memory. “Hey, Flash,” he droned, frowning, “I just want to have lunch in peace, okay?”
Nodding, Flash chuckled. “Of course! I was just stopping to say hey.” That same moment, Flash pushed Peter roughly, causing the smaller man to slam into the seat of the table with enough force to cause the nearest tray to fall onto the floor. Paying no mind to the trio of girls exclaiming at him, Flash waved a hand dismissively before walking away. “Smell you later, Parker.”
“Yeah. Much later,” Peter grumbled, lifting himself back to an upright stance.
“You big overgrown ape!” a voice exclaimed from behind, causing him to sharply turn in its direction. A small girl slammed her fist onto the table, holding an icy violet glare in Flash’s direction. “That was Sweetie Belle’s lunch!”
Just as Flash turned at the sound, a pink-skinned girl took to his side before laughing. “Don’t listen to Scoota-Loser, Flash. Birds of a feather flock together,” she smugly declared, brushing a hand through the white streak in her violet locks. Pausing, she shared a glance with her friend. “Right, Silver Spoon?”
Adjusting her large glasses, the grey-skinned girl nodded. “Totally. Those Crusaders are so lame.”
With a blank stare, Peter watched Flash and his entourage laugh about. “Geez. Is this every high school drama ever? I swear, if another musical number starts, I’m so done. I could have sworn I heard one a few minutes ago.”
“Hey. Are you okay?” a voice quietly called out, freeing the young man from his inner monologue. He was greeted by a flow of crimson hair with a bright pink bow perched overhead and warm orange irises. After Peter nodded, she waved a hand apologetically. “Sorry about that. You seem to have got mixed up in our hoopla.”
Peter chuckled sheepishly before shaking his head. “No. That hoop and la is mine. I’ve known Flash for years. It’s just business as usual.” Glancing to the side, his eyes narrowed on the fallen food by his feet. Frowning, Peter could only exhale as he picked up the tray. “Looks like I owe one of you lunch.”
“Um… It’s okay,” a third voice softly declared, clearing her throat afterward. A pair of large green irises fell on the young man while he took in her pale white form and bright lavender hair. She took a moment before waving a hand dismissively. “That wasn’t your fault.”
Thoughts raced through Peter’s mind as he glanced at the ground, but his eyes soon widened at a realization. “Sweetie Belle, right?” he murmured, reaching deep into his backpack. The girl simply nodded in response before Peter retrieved a sandwich from his bag. The treat was delicately packaged tightly in a plastic wrap. He extended it to the girl without hesitation. “I have a spare. You should have this.”
Sweetie blinked at the gesture, slack-jawed. “Are you sure? I mean…” she trailed off, feeling the temperature in her face rise. Before she could respond, Peter shifted his gaze and abruptly turned, walking out of the cafeteria as quickly as he came. The girl stared at the sandwich with a warm gaze, smiling. “That was… nice of him. I wonder who that was?”
Elsewhere, Peter simply marched without stopping. “That was awkward.” He eventually came to a halt before reaching a pair of double doors. “I embarrass myself in front of the entire cafeteria, and I’m a sandwich short. Thanks, Flash. Well, at least I still have my other sandwich…” Peter trailed off, reaching into his bag, but after fumbling for several seconds to no avail, his head lowered shamefully. “Oh, yeah. This is exactly how I pictured my day going.”
“I agree. Your display was quite awkward,” another feminine voice bluntly stated from the side. As Peter turned, he was greeted by a pair of violet irises. A blue girl brushed a hand through her silver-blue lockes, boasting a haughty laugh. “I give your debut a seven. Simple yet disastrous.”
Exasperated, Peter exhaled. “There a reason you aren’t hanging out with your adoring public then?”
Blinking, the girl waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, please. I simply hang out here to avoid their stupid gazes. No one truly understands the Great and Powerful Trixie.” Pausing, she nodded confidently. “And yes. I am the most powerfulest in the school.”
A long silence filled the air as Peter tilted his head to the side. “Powerfulest? That’s not even a word.” A harsh scoff escaped his mouth. “Uh-huh. Anyway, so what do you want?”
Seemingly ignoring the young man’s remark, the girl snorted. “Oh, my. So you haven’t heard of me. I suppose I have a ways to go then.” Folding her arms, Trixie’s eyes narrowed while the corner of her mouth fell. “You’re new here. That distant and oblivious expression? It reeks of confusion.” Shrugging, she soon reached out and pulled a folded piece of paper from the young man’s pocket. Without a hint of hesitation, her eyes began to scroll over the paper. “That, and you have a fresh schedule. We even have History together.”
“Oh, joy,” Peter grumbled, snatching the paper before turning away from the girl. His shoulders lowered, matched only by the frown on his face. “Powerfulest? Seriously? It’s a rib. It has to be.”
Taken aback, Trixie placed her hands over her hips and scoffed. “How rude. He didn’t bother introducing himself.”
Several hours had passed as Spider-Man sat at the top of the clock tower. While the town was small compared to New York, it was still respectable and granted him access via the web-swinging routes. He preferred to avoid traffic, and there was no greater alternative to that than a heightened altitude. Yet, images of his second day at Canterlot High continued to play through the confines of his mind.
“This day just keeps getting better,” Peter whispered, holding a hand over his masked face. Suddenly, vibrations coursed through the depths of his backpack. He simply paused, retrieving a phone from inside before placing it over his ear. “Hi, Aunt May.”
“Hi, Peter. How was school?” May sweetly questioned.
Spider-Man grumbled, glancing to the side. “Bad question, May.”
May could only hum. “I’m sorry to hear that. On your way home, could you bring some eggs? How does night-time breakfast sound?”
“Sounds great. I’m starving,” Peter exhaled, nodding.
However, before he could continue, a loud explosion echoed throughout the vicinity. Spider-Man’s masked eyes furrowed as he sat himself up, eyeing the building across from his position. Its metallic and brick surfaces were slick, displaying advancements far beyond those stationed around it. Even its billboard labeled ‘Oscorp’ held neon lights, shining brightly. An explosion erupted from its double doors as flames raced out and stretched across the street.
“I’ll get back to you, Aunt May,” he whispered, tossing the phone into his backpack.
Spider-Man watched as several civilians sped out of the building before leaping from his position. He soared through the air and shot out a strand of webbing, managing to swing his way through an opening in the shattered glass. Slowly but surely, the young man walked his way through the wreckage, following a set path of destruction. After treading carefully through the path of broken metal, stone, and glass, he seemed to have reached a central lobby before leaping onto the side of the nearest wall.
An individual garbed in green stood over a large computer with their back facing Spider-Man. They paused before turning their head to the side, as if sensing him, and they revealed an orange visor shaped in the form of a beak while fur rested over their shoulders. Using their sharp, metallic claws to pull out a flash drive from the computer, they slid the item into a hidden compartment within their wings. The individual was heavily armored, yet their slender form was still evidently that of a woman.
“Who are you?” their deep distorted voice questioned as their claws twitched. Shaking their head, they turned sharply before proceeding to walk away. “Doesn’t matter. My business isn’t with you.”
Spider-Man raised a hand. “Love the suit. I’m a fan of Gatchaman myself.” Clearing his throat, he leapt back to the ground. “Thing is that you’re breaking and entering. You’re kinda making it my business.”
“Hold on. Aren’t you that Spider-Guy who blew up that school?” she questioned bluntly, folding her arms.
Wincing, Spider-Man cleared his throat. “That was months ago. Who are you to judge?”
The armored individual scoffed. “I’m not. I’m just saying you suck at your job.” Sobering, she held out both claws while lowering into an attack stance. “All the more reason you need to just walk away. My beef isn’t with you. Get out of here before you get killed, rookie.”
Throwing his hands high overhead, Spider-Man growled. “You know what? This whole day has sucked. Last thing I need is some Vulture-cosplayer telling me off!”
Spider-Man leapt forward, throwing a wild kick, but the woman pulled her arms inwardly before swinging her wings out, managing to both block and deflect his attack. She quickly flew into the air with her claw extended, managing to grab Spider-Man by the entirety of his head. Just as the young man struggled to break free, his assailant sped through the air, with him in tow, before bursting him through the nearest wall. Shards of stone scattered from the impact as Spider-Man fell to the ground, while debris buried his form.
The woman stood over his frame with a claw raised. “Damn. I didn’t mean to hit him that hard. The exoskeleton’s strength output is too strong. I’ll have to make some adjustments when I get back to base.” The debris underneath her feet began to shift as pained groans were heard from within. Elated, a relieved sigh escaped from the woman. “Oh, thank God. He’s still alive.” She paused, glancing to the side as sirens steadily approached from afar. Exhaling, she ran towards the hole in the wall. “For your sake, stay out of my way next time!”
Just as Spider-Man rose from the wreckage, lifting a fallen pillar from over his frame, the woman took flight and escaped his crosshairs. He lowered into a defensive stance, as if ready to pursue, but he paused, shaking his head at the sight of red, white, and blue lights flashing wildly outside. A sharp bolt of pain surged through his side, causing the young man to wince involuntarily. With a defeated sigh, Spider-Man took an alternative route and climbed through the nearest vent. Local law enforcement stormed the scene, surveying the scene. Meanwhile, Spider-Man reached a building afar, climbing onto its roof top before collapsing in a heap.
Spider-Man stared at the blue skies with a blank stare, left only with the bruises he sustained. Exasperated, he could only exhale. “Fresh start, they said. It’ll be good for you, they said. This town sucks.” His stomach growled in protest, as if agreeing with his statement. Spider-Man huffed. “I’m so hungry!”
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.
The sun had fallen under the horizon, allowing night to take hold of the city. Spider-Man sat on the edge of a rooftop, alternating his sight between Oscorp Incorporated across the street and the phone in his hand. A frustrated groan escaped from his mouth before he closed the phone’s screen, tossing the device into the confines of his backpack. Spider-Man could only shake his head as he stared down the skyscraper. Security had been deepened considerably, with dozens of officers positioned around the building and inside the main lobby.
Peter hummed, retrieving a device from the side. “I sure hope the police don’t mind me borrowing this for a bit. If I’m going to catch the Vulture, I’ll need access to the police feed and network.” A map materialized on the device’s screen with several key points being highlighted by a blinking red indicator. Spidey’s masked lenses furrowed as he nodded, his thumbs pecking away at the screen. “Now to create a firewall and dummy account. That way, the only thing anyone can hope to find on my trail are cat meme videos.”
Leaping to the ground, Spider-Man managed to reach the side of a stationary police vehicle. He placed the handheld device back within the glove department before slipping into an alleyway. As the local law enforcement continued their patrol, Spider-Man climbed onto the nearest rooftop and jumped high into the air. He soared effortlessly for many meters before landing on the tip of a water tower, halting his momentum and holding a knelt perched stance.
“Good thing there’s a lot less cameras in this city compared to New York,” he murmured, glancing to the side.
Pressing a finger against the black outline on his white lenses, Peter inhaled sharply as the environment brightened from his viewpoint. Several buildings emitted a bright light while numbers scrolled down the side. A map of the city spread out, doing the same. Peter’s eyes scrolled through everything available, almost failing to blink for what seemed like minutes. Eventually, Peter closed the application and returned his sight to the city underneath him.
“I’ll have to thank Fury for the mask upgrade. The schematics for holding the map information are way more intricate and expansive. Plus, hacking into the police network was way easier with this tech,” Peter whispered, lifting his gaze momentarily. “Now, I can listen to police reports and silent alarms and get the jump on the bad guys. Hopefully, he won’t be too upset about me hacking into the city mainframe. At least I’m not reading people’s emails. An invasion of privacy is not cool.”
Spider-Man paused, scrolling through the map with a furrowed glare. “Silent alarm. Sounds like there’s a break-in at the edge of town at the Oscorp Chemical Facility.” He stood upright, folding his arms. “It’s got to be the Vulture, but what is she possibly planning? I don’t even know what she’s stolen up until now.” Shrugging, Spider-Man dove over the side of the building before shooting out a strand of webbing. As he swung through the city, the young man huffed. “No time like the present. Time to ruffle this bird’s feathers.”
Bodies laid spread across the floor of the vicinity, each guard moaning as they clutched at their bodies in pain. One last security personnel charged at Vulture from behind with a gun drawn, firing several shots in rapid succession. The woman raised her hand over the side of her head instinctively, managing to block each projectile effortlessly. All of the bullets fell to the ground, each destroyed upon impact.
The officer’s jaw dropped as Vulture stood unfazed, unable to react as the woman slid a hand underneath the nearest desk and tossed it in his direction. The furniture landed roughly on top of his frame, pinning him to the ground. A pained groan fell from his mouth before he yielded to unconsciousness. A distorted huff escaped from Vulture as she alternated her gaze about, ensuring no other guard would attempt to stop her.
Once certain she was alone, Vulture walked through the lab before reaching a small safe. The woman ripped the metallic door from its frame, flinging it to the side with enough force to imbed it into the stone wall behind her position. Several vials filled with a blue substance were inside, each glowing brightly. Vulture grabbed one before slipping it gently into a pocket pouch on her belt.
“That’s all I need. Oscorp’s going down hard,” she whispered, sealing the pouch shut. With a nod, she turned to leave, but a small ball struck her hand, expanding upon impact. Webbing had engulfed her limb, latching it to the safe, and she strained, attempting to pull herself free. “What the hell--?!”
Spider-Man leapt into the room, managing to land directly behind the woman. “Look, pal. I get it. Your job probably sucks, but it’s not worth breaking the law over. Just stick to your desk job. I’m sure it pays more than photography. Not that I’d know.”
“You again? You didn’t learn your lesson last time?” Vulture growled, still attempting to free her hand from the webbing. Using her free talon, she slashed the gossamer away, but the second she turned, a second ball of webbing struck her limb, trapping her once more. Vulture alternated her gaze between her hand and Spider-Man. “Seriously?! Is this stuff coming out of you?”
“Yes and no,” he nonchalantly replied, causing the woman to stare blankly in his direction. Raising his hands defensively, Spider-Man shook his head. “I don’t know why you are doing this, but you have to stop. You stole something really important from SHIELD, and I doubt you want any smoke from those guys.”
Vulture continued to strain, pausing to inhale deeply. “I’m warning you, Spider-Guy. This has nothing to do with you. My problem is with Oscorp. Don’t get yourself killed trying to protect them.”
“I’m not protecting them. You’re breaking the law, and I’m stopping you,” Spider-Man stated, edging closer to the woman. “Who are you? What did Oscorp do to upset you so much?”
Slow to respond, Vulture glanced to the side. “You wouldn’t understand. I lost everything because of them.” The armor stirred to life, whirred loudly as Vulture roared. Freeing her hand, she lifted the large desk from the ground overhead before hurling it at the young man. Spider-Man jumped to the side, avoiding the furniture as it smashed into the ground where he previously stood. The woman raised her talons as she lowered into an attack stance. “And I’m the Vulture! That’s all you need to know!”
“No! You are not the Vulture! She was about entertaining people! She wasn’t a two-bit thief like you!” Spider-Man declared, pointing a finger at the assailant.
Vulture paused, clenching one of her talons into a tight fist. “I-- You…” she trailed off, lowering her gaze momentarily. Like lightning to a rod, she raised both hands and unsheathed an array of blades from her feathered cowl. “Shut your damn mouth!”
That same moment, she jumped into the air and spun, unleashing the blades in Spider-Man’s direction. An alarm blared within Peter’s cranium, forcing him to react in response. He flipped accordingly, narrowly avoiding a trio of blades as they sped past. Once on his feet, Spider-Man jumped straight up before contorting his body, pulling his head near his groin. The last of the blades just missed their target, imbedding into the wall behind the young man.
Vulture watched with a widened gaze behind her visor once Spider-Man finished dodging her attack. She scowled before thrusting forward, managing to tackle the young man to the ground. With her talons gripping tightly onto his wrists, she lifted her armored boot over his frame. Just as she lowered it in a stomp, Spider-Man rolled to the side out of its path before rolling back with a kick of his own. The blow deflected off the armor but still staggered the woman, forcing her to relinquish her hold.
Faster than she could respond, a fist came crashing directly into her visor, and the guard cracked upon impact, falling to the ground. Vulture instinctively clutched at her face, groaning as she stood back to her feet. Spider-Man approached the woman with a narrowed gaze, but he paused, his masked eyes widening suddenly. A familiar orange iris stared back at him, blinking as she held out an open talon.
“Coach Spitfire?” he blurted out, inhaling sharply as gas rushed out from an opening into the armored talon. The fumes seeped through his mask, and Peter’s vision grew hazy, causing him to collapse. Coughing wildly, he fought back against the grips of unconsciousness. “G-Gas...”
Vulture blinked, as if a thought came to mind. “Wait. W-What was that?” She reached out, pulling Spider-Man’s mask free from his head. Spitfire gasped, dropping the mask upon recognizing the young man’s face. “P-Parker?!”
Shaking the cobwebs free from his cranium, Peter reached out and swiftly pulled his mask back over his head. Both individuals stepped back, never averting their gazes from each other. As if the entire world came to a halt, they only stared in silence. Before one could utter a response, the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance approaching.
Vulture turned, stealing a final glance, before taking flight through the nearest doorway. “We’ll talk later.”
Spider-Man reached out, ready to pursue the woman, but a defeated sigh escaped from his mouth. He soon went in the opposite direction, shooting a strand of webbing into the air before swinging into the night. Local law enforcement soon arrived and spread through the vicinity, surveying the damage.
Thoughts ran rampant through Peter’s mind, but one in particular stood above the rest, gnawing away at his psyche. “I’m so flunking gym class now.”
To say sleep was an impossibility would be an understatement. Peter sat in Physics class with bags under his wild gaze while Dr. Octavious gave his lecture. He continually shifted his line of sight between the teacher and the door, half expecting the cops, FBI, or paparazzi to come barreling in at any moment. In spite of having a sixth sense for danger, the unknown still caused anxiety to overstimulate his mind.
“Why are you twitching so?” Trixie questioned, frowning at her classmate. Peter managed to share a glance with the girl, simply blinking. Bemused, Trixie frowned. “While I appreciate your silence, you really should be taking notes. The good doctor is off on one of his tangents this morning, so I can’t be bothered, but we have a quiz coming Monday. If you are to help me, I need you to at least try.”
Peter readied to respond, but Octavious stepped between the pair with a brow raised. “Help you, Miss Trixie? Are you incapable of solving the formula on your own?” Otto questioned, causing the young girl to stare at the chalkboard and the numbers spread across its surface.
Eventually, Trixie cleared her throat and stood from her seat. “Of course I can!” She scrolled through the board after an awkward amount of time before nodding confidently. “The answer is pi over pi. See? This is trivial for one as great as--”
“You are wrong. To say you are in a completely different stratosphere would be an understatement,” Otto bluntly stated, holding a bemused expression. Most of the other students snickered in response, but the doctor lifted his gaze, frowning. “Could any of you solve it?” Silence filled the room, causing the doctor to let out a defeated sigh. However, he arched a brow upon returning his sight to the student next to Trixie. “Peter Parker. What do you think?”
Stammering, Peter simply blinked. “Uh…” he trailed off, glancing at the board before quickly returning his gaze to Dr. Octavious. “306 degrees equals 5.34 Radians.”
The entire class stared at the young man, slack-jawed, but Octavious smiled widely, nodding. “Astute as always, Parker… in spite of your daydreaming.” He smirked, walking back to the front of the classroom. “If you are tutoring Miss Lulamoon, then there may be hope for her yet.”
Trixie frowned, lowering her head as her cheeks flushed. “How degrading.”
Once Octavious returned to his lecture, Peter turned to Trixie with a furrowed brow. “Lulamoon?”
“Keep your insults to yourself,” Trixie grumbled, rolling her eyes.
Suddenly, the school bell rang, prompting the students to free themselves from class. Peter grabbed his backpack before sharing a glance with the girl. “Your attitude sucks, but you do have a nice name.”
Scoffing, Trixie waved a hand dismissively. “Of course it’s a nice name. Only the best fits the Greatest and Powerfulest.”
Peter’s expression sunk, evident by his twitching brow and frown. “You ruined it. You ruined it, and I’m leaving.” He walked off, paying no mind as the girl held a hand over her mouth and laughed obnoxiously. Once Trixie left the room, he readied to do the same. “See ya, Doc.”
“Parker. A word, if you may?” Octavious called out, prompting Peter to stop in his tracks. He approached the young man with an arched brow. “I won’t take up much of your time. I have only a proposition for you.”
Tilting his head to the side, Peter blinked. “What’s that?”
Otto straightened the glasses over his eyes with a finger. “I’ll be frank. I was watching you throughout class. You didn’t pay attention at all to what was presented, but you still managed to solve the equation without much effort. I’m beginning to understand why the reports from Crystal Prep stated you were brilliant but lazy. It seems what is presented to you just isn’t mentally stimulating.” He paused, waving a finger while clearing his throat. “Simply put… you are bored.”
Peter rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing to apologize over. You are gifted with amazing intelligence. It can be a gift to be used for the benefit of mankind-- a privilege. If anything, I have a remedy,” Otto stated, folding his arms briefly. “How would you feel about working with me as my apprentice? I have a personal prosthetics lab nearby. You can work unrestricted and earn payment on the side. This isn’t connected to the school. You will be helping with my personal research.”
Smiling, Peter nodded. “That’d be an honor. Thanks, Doc!”
“Don’t thank me yet. I plan to really challenge you after hours,” Otto chuckled, extending his hand to the young man. Once the pair shook hands, the older man returned to his desk and took a seat. “Do get some sleep, Parker. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
Peter could only nod in response before waving to the teacher. “I’ll try, Doc.” He inhaled deeply before sighing, staring deeply down the hallway as he walked towards his next class. “I just hope this won’t be as awkward as it feels.”
Gym class had begun, no different than usual. Coach Spitfire went over the day’s drills with her assistants. Yet, Peter felt as tiny as an ant whenever the woman’s fiery gaze even drifted in his direction. It didn’t help that she seemed visibly agitated, evident by the bags under her eyes, bass in her voice, and scowl on her face. Eventually, class was dismissed, and every student scattered for their respective positions.
Just as Peter readied himself to do the same, Spitfire cleared her throat. “Parker. In my office.” She rolled off, pausing to steal a glance from the corner of her eye. “Now.”
His heart sank into his stomach at the woman’s calm yet firm tone. This was not a time to tempt fate. Peter resisted the urge to reply, choosing only to follow the woman. The pair walked in silence for what seemed like an eternity before they reached her office. Once inside, Spitfire locked the door to the room and took her place by the desk.
After an awkward amount of time, she inhaled deeply before exhaling. “I’m not going to lie. I didn’t sleep a lick. I was half expecting the cops to kick in my door at any moment.”
Peter laughed nervously. “Same. I didn’t know what to think or expect. I was hoping we could talk.”
Spitfire folded her arms, but her shoulders lowered, as if the muscles in her body relaxed. “I can’t say that was smart, but… thank you.” She huffed, managing a faint smirk. “So, you’re the Spider-Guy that blew up the school, huh?”
“Spider-Man, actually…” Peter grumbled, glancing to the side.
Shaking her head, Spitfire raised her hand defensively. “I’m not giving you a hard time for that. In your case, that was an accident. A sloppy mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. Not like last semester, where one of our students did it for kicks.”
“That’s the second time you mentioned someone blowing up the school, and you still won’t tell me who it is,” he murmured, exasperated. Peter readied to press the topic, but he frowned, narrowing his gaze. “Time and place. Don’t change the subject.”
Sobering, Spitfire scoffed before shrugging. “Right. Well, you got me. I’m the Vulture. It’s not like I made it that hard for you to figure out.”
“It’s because I was giving you the benefit of the doubt,” Peter replied, his tone defensive. “Why are you doing this? You could help so many people with your flight suit, but you’re using it to steal. I don’t know what Oscorp did to you, but this won’t make it right.”
Spitfire’s fist slammed into the desk, causing a pair of shades resting at the corner to crash to the floor. “Do you know what it’s like to have everything you want in the world taken away?” Pursing her lips, the woman closed her eyes and sighed. “I just wanted to prove I was the best showman, and I did. I created the flight suit from scratch, and with Oscorp’s tech, I perfected it. I just wanted to show the world that when it came to the air, no one could touch me.”
“What happened?” Peter lightly questioned, his eyes softening.
Spitfire lifted her gaze, never faltering. “Right before the Friendship Games, I was supposed to perform. Representatives from Oscorp came to talk. They wanted to weaponize my suit. I refused. I made it clear that my design would not be used in their propaganda.” The woman shifted her gaze, pausing as if to quell her building emotions. “Then, the accident happened. I lost use of my legs, and Oscorp lost their use of me. Just as they fired me, I came to find out they were keeping my schematics due to a clause in our contract.”
Peter nodded. “I read about that. It's a big part of your documentary.”
“If it had just ended there, I might have been able to move on, but I tinkered with my old model. I just had to know what went wrong, like how things could have been prevented,” Spitfire lowly stated, gripping at the handles of her chair. She furiously shook her head. “Came to find out, the circuits had been crossed. Oscorp sent their reps to sabotage me. I can never walk again because of them!” Inhaling deeply, Spitfire’s gaze narrowed into a glare. “So, you need to tell me why you are defending them!”
“I’m not defending them. If anything, I sympathize with you. What happened to you was wrong,” Peter firmly declared, leaning forward in his chair. His demeanor softened momentarily. “You’re seeking revenge and breaking the law. No good is going to come out of that. You’ve got to let this go, or try things a different way. You can sue them.”
Spitfire huffed, rolling her eyes before shaking her head. “You’re so naive. You don’t sue Oscorp. They have a habit of making people who disagree with them disappear.” Scoffing, the woman scowled. “If there comes a day you ever lose anything, come back to me about letting it go.”
Peter winced at the comment, but he held out a hand. “I’m serious! You’ve already proven you don’t need Oscorp. They may have your schematics, but the flight suit you made is pretty gnarly. You’ve even found a way around your paralysis.” Peter poked a finger against the side of his head, holding it in place. “You still have your mind, intelligence, and ingenuity. Don’t waste it! Plus, it’s not too late. Enter rehab! With rehabilitation and prosthetics, you can ditch the wheelchair and walk under your own power again.”
Spitfire inhaled sharply before her saddened gaze fell. “I gave up on rehab a long time ago. If I can’t move like I used to, then what’s the point? Even in the suit, I’m just a puppet on strings. I’m sorry, Peter, but taking down Oscorp is all I’ve got left.” Choking back a building sob, Spitfire furiously wiped away any tears before they had a chance to fall. With a determined gaze, she stared intently at the young man. “You’re not changing my mind. I’m destroying Oscorp tonight. If you want to try to stop me, meet me at Fourth and Third near midnight.”
Before Peter could utter a response, Spitfire pulled back from the desk and rolled towards the door. They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity before the young man opened the door, allowing the woman to exit the room first. Peter followed her out with an uncertain gaze, but he simply nodded inwardly, as if agreeing with her terms. Spitfire mirrored his actions, evident by the knowing gaze she shared with him.
“If it’s any consolation,” she whispered, pausing as she turned around, “I think you’re a freak athlete. It really makes me wish that we met three years sooner. You would have made one heck of a sparring partner, or even...”
Peter watched with a widened gaze as she trailed off, the corner of her lip curling into a small smile. Spitfire returned to class, leaving the young man. Peter clenched his hand into a fist, never wavering as a sense of right bloomed within.
“There’s always a better way,” Peter whispered, narrowing his gaze, “but it looks like it’s going to be the hard way, after all.”
Night had taken hold, evident by the stars glowing across the darkened sky. Spider-Man sat on the edge of a rooftop in a knelt stance, watching as many of the citizens of the city retreated for the evening. While some stayed out, it was considerably smaller in scale when compared to New York, but it was not a fair comparison, seeing that his former home town was one of the largest in the country. At his altitude, the citizens resembled ants, but Spider-Man stood upright, nodding upon knowing at least the people would be out of danger.
“I just hope this works. For all intents and purposes, Spitfire’s got no obligation to meet me here. She could go and attack Oscorp while I sit here. All I’ve got is her word,” Peter whispered inwardly, folding his arms. He lowered his gaze before letting out a sigh. “I’ve given her the benefit of the doubt so far, and she’s done the same with me. It’s the only reason why the FBI hasn’t stormed my house yet. I just hope this doesn’t bite me in the butt later on.”
Suddenly, a being soared into view and landed mere inches away from the young man. Small tremors coursed through the ground, but Vulture straightened her posture, lowering her arms and feathers to the side. Spider-Man watched the woman with a furrowed gaze, waiting on the senses within his cranium to react. However, no such thing happened while Vulture pecked away at buttons on the keyboard hidden underneath a compartment on her armored wrist.
“I’m surprised you actually showed up. And here I thought chivalry was dead,” Vulture stated, her voice still distorted. Inhaling deeply before exhaling, the woman continued to type at her pad. “So... we’re fighting?”
Spider-Man shook his head before raising a hand. “Hold on. I want to know something first. What are you planning to do to Oscorp? It obviously has something to do with whatever you’ve been stealing.”
Slow to respond, Vulture quietly stared at the young man for what seemed like an eternity. “Simple. I’m going to blow them sky high,” she coldly declared, ceasing her typing before retrieving a small metallic ball from one of the pouches on her belt. “Explosives. This little ball packs enough punch to level a small building. With the chemicals I’ve stolen, their output velocity increased tenfold. Placed in the right areas, a handful of these bombs can even cause a big building like Oscorp to come tumbling down like a ton of bricks.”
“You can’t be serious,” Peter murmured, his voice shakened.
Vulture placed the bomb back in her pouch, sharply pointing at the masked individual. “It’s just the start! I’ll take Oscorp down in this town and do the same to the rest across the country! Even if I never take them down completely, I’ll be the biggest gnat to ever gnaw away at their wallet.”
Spider-Man walked up to the woman, shaking his head furiously as he reached out to place a hand over the woman’s shoulder. “You can’t be serious! There are so many other options than that! I mean, ways that don’t involve you using explosives like a terrorist!”
Releasing a harsh scoff, Vulture slapped Spider-Man’s hand away. “I’m done talking! If you’re going to try and stop me, bring it on! I should have known you were too soft to understand.” The mechanisms in her suit whirred to life as she took a defensive stance. “If you get killed this time, it’s your own fault!”
Just as Vulture leapt forward with her talons raised, Spider-Man held his hands out in a pleading manner. “Hold on! One last thing!” he exclaimed, forcing the woman to stop in her tracks. Vulture let out a frustrated groan, holding her extended talon mere inches away from Spider-Man’s face. Peter could only let out a relieved sigh once his sixth sense quelled. “Can you cut that any closer? I really don’t want to hurt you.”
“Stop stalling already and talk!” Vulture roared, her voice echoing throughout the night sky.
Once the tremors under his feet ceased, Spider-Man cleared his throat. “You know, you’re probably the only person who wants me to keep talking. It’s a little weird.” Seeing Vulture’s talon tighten into a fist prompted Peter to clear his throat. “Anyway. Yeah. I’m taking you down, but not in a fight. I wanna challenge you to an aerial showdown! A race! With style!”
Taken aback, Vulture stammered with her head falling into a tilt. “What? Are you serious?”
Peter pointed to the side. “Your documentaries always talked about how you were unmatched. You hold several records in this region in track and gymnastics. Even in the air, you couldn’t be touched. By your admission, that’s what you set out to do. You wanted to prove you were the best!” Chuckling, Peter pointed a thumb at his chest confidently. “I want to challenge that! If you can beat me, I’ll leave you alone; you’re free to do whatever you want with Oscorp. But if I win, I want you to give up this ridiculous crusade.”
Scoffing, Vulture chuckled under her breath. She paced in place, placing both hands over her hips. “That’s pretty ballsy, dude. What makes you think you can keep up with me or this suit? I knocked you out while holding back. It increases my strength twenty-fold, and with my reflexes, I’m as swift as a bird. Unrestrained, you don’t stand a chance.”
Spider-Man folded his arms and huffed. “So you say. I personally think you are using that thing as a crutch. I don’t know if you’ve still got it.”
A low distorted growl escaped from Vulture as she glanced to the side. She paused to stare at her glove deeply. “A crutch…” she whispered, her voice seething with anger. With a visceral snarl, Spitfire threw a fist into her open palm, causing a loud clang to echo through the vicinity. “You just dug your own grave. You’re on!”
Peter could only let out a relieved sigh. “Okay. So, how are we doing this?”
Vulture walked to the edge of the building, pausing before pointing at a water tower several streets away. “We start at the water tower and will work our way through town until we reach the central clock tower. After that, stick to Main Street until we reach the edge of the forest.” She sharply pointed at Spider-Man. “You’ve proven you can take a punch. It’s a no-holds barred race to the finish. We can use whatever gadgets necessary. So, if you lose, that’s it. Deal?”
Nodding, Spider-Man gave a thumbs up. “Deal.” He leapt high into the air, landing on the nearest rooftop before running towards the water tower. “Glad she took the bait. Glad she’s as prideful as I thought. Now, I just have to make sure I win,” he whispered, leaping mid-jog before landing perfectly at the top of the water tower. He lowered into a squat as the Vulture soared next to his position, hovering in midair. Spider-Man leaned forward and pressed both hands against the container. “Ready?”
Spider-Man leapt forward, shooting out a strand of webbing onto the side of the nearest building before descending into a deep swing. Vulture pulled her arms back, speeding into a free fall, and she spread her wings, allowing the wind to aid in her ascent. Her thruster roared before erupting, increasing the woman’s speed as she raced past her opponent. Spider-Man extended both hands and fired a pair of strands of webbing out, latching them onto the edge of a rooftop in the distance.
With a firm yank, Peter flipped forward, and once he reached the building, he held his hands out, managing to hurl his momentum skyward in a diving motion. Spider-Man flipped high over Vulture’s body, tapping the top of her head before taking the lead. Spitfire’s eyes widened at the sight under her visor as Peter pulled his knees to his chest, resembling a ball while performing several rolls in midair. Just as he neared the ground, Spider-Man unleashed a strand of webbing and rode its momentum in a deep swing.
“He’s making me look stupid! Time to play rough then,” Spitfire growled, speeding forward with her talon raised.
She slashed the webbing Spider-Man held onto, sending him into a spiral. Just as he readied to land on the roof of a nearby, Vulture sped forward and slammed her shoulder into his chest. A loud crack echoed throughout the vicinity before the force of the blow launched Spider-Man, sending him crashing into the nearest stone wall. Shards of brick scattered from the impact as Peter was embedded into the building. Vulture continued onward, racing towards the water tower.
“That was rude,” Spider-Man groaned, shaking the cobwebs from his cranium.
He pried himself free, unleashing a strand of webbing before resuming his swinging. Vulture reached the water tower, touching its top. However, as she readied to resume her flight, a ball of webbing struck her chest and expanded upon impact. She strained, struggling to free her limbs from her torso.
Suddenly, Spider-Man dove with his legs fully extended and drove a fierce kick into the woman. A distorted grunt escaped from Vulture as she was sent flying, shattering a wall of glass behind her position. Spider-Man turned around and jumped onto the top of the water tower, speeding into a free fall afterward. Vulture snapped back to a standing position, releasing a loud distorted roar as she ripped her arms free of the webbing.
Slamming her fist into the ground with enough force to crack the stone, Spitfire snarled. “That’s enough!”
The thrusters on Vulture’s frame roared, igniting with potent velocity. An explosive bang echoed loudly as the woman sped through the skies like a bullet. Spider-Man’s masked eyes widened as his sixth sense blared. He turned his head at the sight of Vulture racing towards him, unable to react as she tackled him from midair. The pair struggled while Vulture’s talons clawed away at Spider-Man’s head before they crashed through a billboard, sending shards of metal flying about.
Never losing momentum, Vulture reared her second talon back, but as she swung, Spider-Man shot a ball of webbing onto the woman’s visor. She instinctively clutched at the gossamer in an attempt to free her vision. Peter climbed onto Vulture’s shoulders, gripping her wings before pulling them back. The pair soon began to ascend, flying above most of the buildings in the city. Spider-Man inhaled sharply upon seeing a forest in the distance.
They were fast approaching the finish line. Vulture managed to rip the webbing free from her visor before snatching a hold of Spider-Man’s wrist. Shaking his head defiantly, Peter used his free hand to punch the back of Spitfire’s armor repeatedly. With each blow, the metal gave away and dent under the pressure. Soon, Vulture began to spiral into a rapid descent for the ground, yet she never relinquished her hold, pulling Peter into a stranglehold.
Spider-Man glanced at the fast approaching ground from the side of his eye. Gripping both of Vulture’s wrist gauntlets, Peter squeezed his hands until the armor groaned in protest. With a snap, the steel shattered, and Spider-Man lifted his knee, driving into the armored chin of Spitfire’s helmet. Her head snapped back, causing the woman to lose her hold. Spider-Man raised a hand, firing a strand of webbing onto a street light, and he pulled himself free, swinging until he reached the outskirts of the forest.
He landed gracefully on both feet, nodding inwardly upon claiming victory. Mere meters behind him, Vulture lifted her hands helplessly before crashing into the earth, generating a shockwave on impact. A cloud of dust and dirt spread from the crater and into the sky. Once everything settled, Spider-Man ran towards the crater and slid to the bottom. Spitfire let out a pained groan before struggling to turn onto her back, collapsing entirely. She managed to free her helmet from her head before tossing it to the side.
Labored breaths escaped from the woman as she glanced at Spider-Man. “That was pretty good. You… really have what it takes,” she weakly declared, biting down on her lip. A saddened gaze filled her eyes as she choked back a sob, staring longingly at the star-patterned sky above. “What the hell am I doing? How could I let it get this bad?”
Spider-Man lowered next to the woman, taking a knee. “When you lose everything, you lose sight. I know what that’s like.” Spitfire paused as Peter removed his mask, revealing a softened gaze. “I lost my uncle recently because of a bad choice. Now, I just want to make amends and do what’s right. He always said ‘with great power comes great responsibility.’ It’s not too late for you.”
Slow to respond, Spitfire could only stare at the young man before frowning. “How do you bounce back from something like this? I can’t even stand… let alone walk.”
“You still have your mind,” Peter stated without a hint of hesitation. Spitfire’s eyes widened at the comment before the boy held a finger against the side of his head. “You have a gift for intelligence. You found a way to become stronger and faster than your physical prime because of what you were able to create with your mind.” Peter nodded inwardly. “I was able to bounce back from my Uncle Ben’s passing thanks to my Aunt May and some friends. With the right support cast, you can do the same.”
Spitfire’s eyes continued to water and her lower lip quivered. “Friends, huh? I shut myself out from everyone after the accident. Everyone was always proud of what I did physically. No one ever complimented me for what I did mentally.” She stared at the young man, sniffling. “Until now.”
“Sometimes, it takes us to lose something precious in order for us to realize the gifts we still have,” Peter gently reassured, placing his hand over Spitfire’s. “Your intellect can be used to help yourself and those around you. I think you just need to reapply yourself. I can help you. Besides...” he trailed off, managing a smile, “...despite it all, I still think you’re still a pretty rad gym coach.”
Snorting, Spitfire chuckled before wincing in pain. A stream of tears rolled down her cheek, but she held a smile in spite of her struggle. “You’re such a dork.”
She weakly reached at her belt, pulling its pouch free. The woman extended it to Peter, prompting the young man to accept the item. Before long, Spitfire let out a groggy exhale as her eyes fluttered shut. Yielding to unconsciousness, her hand fell to the side. Peter slowly pulled himself back to an upright stance, standing over the woman. However, his eyes softened upon sighting that Spitfire’s smile remained intact even as she lay devoid of consciousness.
Peter shook his head, letting out a low sigh before pulling his mask back on. “Sorry.”
“Good work, Spider-Man,” a firm voice declared from behind, causing Peter to glance in its direction. Nick Fury stepped from the shadows with his hands in his coat’s pockets. An entourage of armed men and women followed behind the man, only moving forward once he nodded. “SHIELD will take things from here.”
Spider-Man watched as the guards tended to Spitfire before returning his line of sight to Fury. “You were keeping an eye on her the entire time?”
“Of course. She was on our radar once she stole from us. I just wanted to see how you’d handle it,” Fury stated, ever stoic. He shook his head, scoffing. “There were a lot of choices you made that were questionable, but I can’t argue with the results. Just be warned that you can’t always appeal to everyone’s humanity.”
Peter offered the pouch to Fury. “It’s not all her fault. She was dealt a bad hand. Oscorp really messed her up, you know?”
Fury took hold of the pouch, eyeing down the contents within. “Sure, but it doesn’t excuse her breaking the law. If you didn’t step in, she would have caused a lot of collateral damage or worse.”
“I’m not excusing what she did or planned to do. I just…” Spider-Man whispered, trailing off once the SHIELD agents had extracted Spitfire from her armor and placed her onto a stretcher. He returned his gaze to Fury as they escorted her away. “Please go easy on her. Spitfire’s not a bad person. She just needs help.”
Rolling his eye, Fury scowled. “You’re a naive kid.” The older man stared at the boy for what seemed like an eternity, both failing to waver. Exasperated, Fury brought his fingers between his eyes and grumbled. “No promises. Now, go home, kid.” As if satisfied with the answer, Spider-Man nodded before venturing off. As he swung off on a strand of webbing, Fury watched with a blank stare, but once Peter was out of view, his grim facade faded in the form of a small smile. “Not bad, kid.”
Deep within the walls of Oscorp, a man sat behind the desk with a knowing smile. “Well, it seems Spider-Man took care of our Vulture problem.” He straightened his tie before brushing a hand through his light red and brown hair. “Where is she now?”
An older man brushed his hands together before nodding. “She is in SHIELD custody, Mr. Osborn. Safe to say, we don’t have to worry about her anymore.” He glanced to the side, grumbling. “It’s a shame the suit was damaged.”
“Consider it a lost cause. Knowing SHIELD, they’ll just keep it for themselves,” Osborn declared, folding his arms before grinning. “It doesn't matter. We have the schematics. I trust it is enough for you to make improvements, Toomes?”
Nodding, the older man smiled widely. “It is more than enough. That girl only scratched the surface of the flight suit’s potential. With time and funding, I can truly upgrade the flight suit with my electromagnetic harness.”
Osborn waved off the older man. “Then, do what you have to, Adrian. Don’t let me down.” Both men shared a nod before Toomes left the room. Osborn turned his attention to the surrounding monitors, each screen holding an image of Spider-Man. Walls of text scrolled down each screen, and the man only smirked in response. “Spider-Man. How interesting…”
Peter inhaled deeply before letting out a low sigh. The Vulture had been apprehended thanks to his efforts, and he had the weekend to lick his wounds. Yet, his thoughts remained clouded. He could only sit with a distant gaze, shaking his head. Aunt May walked into the living room, tilting her head to the side at the sight. Chuckling sheepishly, he turned his head once she approached.
“You’ve been like this all weekend, dear,” May whispered, prompting Peter to stand from his seat. “I thought you’d be happier.”
Slow to respond, Peter rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know, Aunt May. I should be, but I guess I’m just worried. I don’t know what’s going to happen to Spitfire. She doesn’t deserve to be punished too badly.”
May smirked before shaking her head. “Girl leaves you black and bruised, but you’re still trying to help her.” Folding her arms, the woman nodded. “Just give it time. You asked Nick Fury for help. Whether he gives it is one thing, but we don’t know if Spitfire will want the help. From what you told me, she’s damaged and prideful. That can be a dangerous combination.”
“You’ve mentioned pride before with Uncle Ben and me,” Peter responded, furrowing his brow.
May grinned. “Yes, Parker Pride is a very real thing, and you have it as strongly as Ben did.” She raised a finger and waved it knowingly. “You both are always so eager to help those around you, but heaven forbid the moment you need help. Suddenly, you both will take the world’s problems and hold it over your shoulders.”
Peter’s gaze lowered. “Wow. I had no idea.”
“Don’t worry. Like you, your uncle was good at hiding it, but I know you both like the back of my hand. God as my witness, I will never let you fight your battles alone,” May firmly declared, pulling the young man into a warm embrace. Holding a hand over his waist, she peeked up at him with an arched brow. “The fact that you went to Nick for help in the first place shows me how much you’re growing. I couldn’t be prouder of you, son.”
The woman’s reassuring words sent a wave of relief through the young man, evident by his smile and light laughter. Placing a hand over her shoulder, Peter grinned. “Thanks, Aunt May.”
Raising a finger, May never averted her gaze from the young man. “You’re welcome, love. Now, please try to enjoy what’s left of your weekend.”
The pair shared a smile before eventually parting. Just as Peter turned his attention elsewhere, his brow furrowed at the familiar sight of something filling the television screen. A girl with pink skin seemingly spoke vividly, pointing aggressively at the audience while adjusting the tiara on top of her head.
“Hang on. I think I know that girl,” Peter whispered, retrieving the remote from behind his position before aiming it at the television. As the volume increased and the girl’s ranting began to be heard, the young man blinked as a realization came to mind. “That’s Diamond Tiara. She hangs out with Flash.”
May huffed, folding her arms. “As in Thompson? That’s certainly an endearing piece of company.”
“Things have been peaceful in our fair city for as long as I’ve grown up here, but that’s started to change after a demon girl blew up the front courtyard of Canterlot High last semester,” Diamond Tiara stated, slamming a fist against the desk in front of her. She paused, inhaling deeply before letting out a low sigh. “Yet, the incident passed, and we’ve managed to move on. However, our city is in danger once again! There was a skirmish that left several buildings damaged, including a billboard. We had no idea who was responsible… until now!”
As if on cue, an image materialized on screen. It was blurred and taken from a fair distance, but it was clearly that of Spider-Man swinging away on a strand of webbing.
Peter’s eyes widened as a bead of sweat fell from the side of his face. “Uh, oh.”
“It seems the spider has left the comfort of his web and decided to move into our peaceful community! The last thing we need is this menace causing trouble for our city!” Diamond Tiara harshly declared as a wild look filled her gaze. The girl paused, clearing her throat before patting her hands together innocently. “Was there anything you wanted to add, Uncle Jameson?”
Peter’s complexion grew cold at the sound of the name Tiara alluded to. “Jameson? There’s no way.” That following moment, a gruff man’s image filled the screen. He bore a stout mustache and flattop hairstyle, something Peter recognized all too well. Slack-jawed, he could only stare at the television in horror. “Oh. My. God. This is actually happening!”
Jameson managed a smile, nodding. “You are just the sweetest niece, Diamond.” His grim facade resurfaced as he scowled at the camera. “It was only a matter of time before that wall-crawling arachnid showed his cowardly face again! Apparently, he was fighting some armored bird creature. Don’t let that distract you from the fact that in his carelessness, Spider-Man caused severe property damage and destroyed our billboard!”
“That was Jameson’s billboard? What are the odds?” Peter questioned, slack-jawed.
“No matter how hard he tries, that menace cannot silence us! He’s destroyed a school, and now he’s turned his attention to where my lovely niece resides!” Jameson howled, repeatedly punching the top of his desk. “He may have fled from New York City, but now that I know where he is, I will be residing here to keep you all informed on that masked menace! Those with photos, log them into our website. This is Just the Facts with J. Jonah Jameson!”
Diamond Tiara waved to the camera, smiling evilly. “We need photos! Photos of Spider-Man! Thanks for tuning in to our podcast! We will be right back after a word from our sponsor!”
A commercial soon started before Peter lowered his head in a defeated manner. “Great. Jameson’s back, and he’s got a mini-me now. Well, my weekend’s ruined already.”
Aunt May could only roll her eyes in response, exhaling. “This is exactly why no one should take the media seriously nowadays.”
Spitfire sat alone with a distant stare, lost in a void of white. She stole a glance at the cuffs locked onto her wrists and the one latched onto the table with her wheelchair. Shaking her head, the woman could only exhale. Even the simple orange baggy uniform was enough indication of what her situation was. Suddenly, the door to her room slowly opened, freeing Spitfire from her self-induced trance. Nick Fury walked into the fray with a stern expression, scoffing at the sight before taking a seat at the table across from the woman.
“Well, well. Spitfire. Former employee of Oscorp and the Wonderbolts,” he stated, scrolling through a list written onto a clipboard. “You seemed to have racked up an impressive résumé in a short amount of time. You got anything to say for yourself?”
Spitfire pursed her lips, glancing to the side. “Not really. I know I’m under arrest. I tried to blow up a mult-ibillion dollar company. Not much I can say, really.”
Nick Fury never freed his gaze from the list in his hand. “From what I see, you graduated at the top of your class in engineering. It’s a real shame what happened to you regarding Oscorp. You aren’t their first victim, and I doubt you’ll be the last.” He nonchalantly flipped to the next page, nodding. “My team is analyzing the schematics for your flight suit. It’s quite impressive, considering your limited resources. It’d be a real shame to see such potential go to waste.”
Slow to respond, Spitfire turned to face the man with a furrowed brow. “What are you getting at? Who are you, anyway?”
Smirking, the man placed the clipboard down onto the table and folded his arms. “Oh, I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Nick Fury, director of SHIELD, an American extra-govermental counter-terrorism and intelligence agency, tasked with maintaining national and global security,” he paused, easing back into his seat, “I’m here to offer you a chance to redeem yourself. From what I was told, you were dealt a bad hand. You still broke the law, and I can’t look past that. However, work with me, and I’ll see to it that you’re put under parole with a chance to work off your sentence.”
Inhaling sharply, Spitfire’s eyes widened as her mouth fell agape. “How? And why are you giving me this chance?”
Fury huffed before closing his eye, shrugging. “Because a dumb kid sure seems to believe in you. He practically begged me to do this for you.”
Blinking, Spitfire paused. She brushed a hand over her swelling eyes, coughing harshly to choke back the lump in her throat. “I see. Does he work for you?”
Smiling, Fury nodded. “He’s freelance, but we’re keeping our eye on him.” Sobering, the man’s demeanor stiffened as he stood from his seat. Never averting his gaze, he stared down at the woman sternly. “If you agree to this, there are some conditions you’re going to have to follow. So, what do you say?”
“Could you be any more melancholy this morning?” Trixie blurted out, snapping Peter out of his self-induced trance. He weakly nodded a response, prompting the girl to wave a hand dismissively. Snapping her fingers, she faced a pair of young boys with her head raised confidently. “Anyway, carry on. Speak, Minions.”
“Stop with the minion talk, will ya? I’m not one of your goons,” Peter exhaled, bemused.
Trixie nodded. “You’re right. You’re my great and powerful assistant.”
Exasperated, Peter stared blankly at the girl. “That’s just as bad! Next thing you’ll tell me is that you like your coffee black and want your files on the desk by eight.”
“I prefer tea, personally,” Trixie nonchalantly replied, glancing to the side, “Now that you mention it…”
Peter’s eye twitched involuntarily. “I was being sarcastic!”
Trixie waved off the young man, returning her attention to the pair standing nearby. “As I was saying… Speak, minions.”
A short and stout boy nodded, smiling as a pair of large buck teeth protruded from his mouth. “Nothing to report. There was a cat in the dumpster.”
A lanky boy with bright freckles on his cheeks and lime green hair shook his head. “The Musical Showcase is in a couple of weeks. Figured you might want to enter that.”
“Duly noted. We will enter and steamroll the competition,” Trixie huffed, laughing in a boastful manner before placing a hand over her hip and waving the pair away. “Snips and Snails. That’ll be all.”
Both boys straightened their posture and gave a salute. “Yes, Ma’am.”
As they stumbled away, Peter held a bemused glare. “Seriously? Snips and Snails? Minions? Why don’t you just call those two Bebop and Rocksteady while you’re at it? I’d suggest Bulk and Skull, but even those guys have more dignity than them.”
Paying no mind to his drabble, Trixie brushed a hand through her silver-blue hair. “Good. We’ll start practicing for the Musical Showcase soon. I’ll consult with you in history class about it.”
“We? Whoa. Hold on there. Me and musicals don’t mix,” Peter muttered, shaking his head roughly. Trixie seemingly ignored his pleas, walking out as she sang to herself. Blinking, Peter held out his hands defensively. “Seriously! I don’t sing! I know everyone else in this school does, but not me!”
Upon failing to grasp the girl’s attention, Peter let out a defeated sigh before venturing onward to gym class. He slowly drifted into his thoughts once more, paying no mind to the outside world. Eventually, Peter reached the gymnasium, not knowing what to expect, but he stopped in his tracks upon sighting a group of students surrounding someone. His eyes widened at a blue sight, recognizing what seemed to be the Vice-Principal.
Just as he readied to approach the crowd, his head lightly rang in response. In spite of the warning, Peter still managed to bump unceremoniously into something. A girl staggered forth, yelping involuntarily. Snapping back to reality, Peter looked around aimlessly with a sheepish gaze. The girl soon turned, revealing a pair of bright blue-green irises and fiery red/blonde hair.
“Oh! Sunset! It’s you again!” Peter blurted out, scratching the back of his head nervously. “I really have this bad habit of bumping into you.”
Sunset brushed the wrinkles from her skirt before smiling. “It’s okay. I can say the same thing.” Her eyes softened as she stole several glances of the young man, from his unkempt hair to his cool hazel irises. Just as Peter blinked, as if catching her staring, Sunset forced a chuckle. “You look nice.”
“Huh?” Peter blurted out, tilting his head to the side.
Clearing her throat, Sunset giggled nervously. “Sorry. I mean, your face healed up pretty good. It’s like you never had a black eye at all.” Feeling the temperature in her face rise, Sunset waved a hand dismissively. “I hear Trixie has recruited you into her circle of misfits.”
Peter snorted, rolling his eyes. “To quote her, I’m her Great and Powerful Assistant. It’s a notch above ‘minion’, apparently.”
Sunset nodded. “Sounds like she already likes you. Try not to mind her.” She turned, ready to depart, but the girl brushed a hand through her flowing locks. “Um, maybe we can have lunch together soon? You know, whenever I see you.”
Oblivious, Peter grinned and nodded. “Keep Flash from destroying my lunch, and we have a deal.”
“Sure,” Sunset sweetly responded. A blue-haired boy walked past, arching a brow at the pair before shrugging. The girl soon followed, offering a wave before departing. “See you soon, Peter.”
Continuing onward, Peter eventually worked his way through the crowd, stopping once he found Spitfire at the center of the commotion. The woman waved dismissively and chuckled sheepishly, sporting several small bandages over her face and body. Yet, Peter couldn’t contain his smile as Spitfire pointed at the device wrapped around her ankle.
“Whoa! That’s so cool!” one of the students blurted out, squealing.
“Yeah, I’m on parole. This ankle bracelet is used by our boys in blue to make sure I don’t go anywhere I’m not supposed to,” Spitfire commented, sharing a brief glance with Peter.
“How did you get that?” another student questioned, holding their phone out as they took a picture.
A pink flush filled Spitfire’s cheeks as she struggled to clear her throat. “Drinking and driving. This squirrel came out of nowhere, and I took out a stop sign. Not my proudest moment.”
“Indeed it is not,” Luna interjected, folding her arms angrily. “You are hardly setting a good example for our students with such reckless behavior.” She paused, frowning as many of the students held longing expressions. The woman exhaled before departing. “This is your first offense, so I will practice leniency, but if something like this happens again, then you are done.”
Spitfire grinned, pulling her shades down over her eyes. “You got it, V.P.!” Once Luna had exited the vicinity, most of the students began to laugh. Spitfire took hold of her whistle and blew into it. “All right. Spectate mode is over, ladies. Report to your assigned areas!” Just as everyone scattered, Spitfire motioned for Peter to follow with a hand. “Parker. My office.”
The pair walked in silence for what seemed like an eternity before they reached the confines of Spitfire’s office. Once inside, Peter closed the door behind them and smiled. “I was almost worried I wouldn’t see you again.”
Spitfire nodded. “Your friend, Fury, is pretty convincing. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse: a clean record with a chance to work off my sentence. So, until then, I’m under SHIELD custody. He wants me to watch over you in the meantime.”
Peter weakly chuckled. “I bet he’s going to stalk me, but you’ll be a nice change of pace.”
Sobering, Spitfire inhaled deeply before sighing. “Hey,” she whispered, her tone light and sweet. The woman bit down onto her lip. “I, uh, wanted to thank you. You really went to bat for me. I can’t say that I’m used to that, but I’m glad you did. You’re pretty cool… for a dork.” She offered her hand, extending it to Peter. Once he accepted the gesture, Spitfire squeezed it gently before pulling him into a brief yet warm embrace. The pair soon parted with the woman clearing her throat. “You tell anyone we had a moment, and I’ll have you run a thousand suicides with ankle weights.”
Grinning, Peter nodded. “Fair enough, but what will you do now?”
The woman huffed and shrugged. “Honestly, just do my job here and continue my research with SHIELD. In my spare time, I’ll take your advice and start rehabbing. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to ask for your help with that. As a show of trust, if anything spider-related comes up during class, I’ll cover for you.”
“Really? That’d be great! Sure! I actually just signed up for a prosthetics program with Doctor Octavious,” Peter declared, raising a hand. “Give me some time, and maybe we can help you with something. I can work out a blueprint to get you started. It’ll help build your strength. First, you’ll hobble then walk, and from there, the sky's the limit. It won’t be easy, but I’ll be there with you. At this rate, maybe the Mighty Vulture can make a comeback!”
Spitfire’s brow furrowed at the comment. “Actually, I’ve never been a fan of the Vulture name. That was Oscorp’s suggestion when they first endorsed me. I had a nickname before then. Maybe it’s time I brought that back.”
Peter tilted his head to the side. “Really? What was it?”
Slow to respond, Spitfire chuckled inwardly before tilting her glasses downward just enough to reveal her bright orange irises. “The Falcon.”
“If you can’t fly then run... If you can’t run then walk... If you can’t walk then crawl... But whatever you do, you have to keep moving forward.” -Martin Luther King Jr.
