Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter didn’t know how long he’d been staring at the picture of him and his Uncle Ben on a fishing trip from years ago. It was a hot summer day in July. They’d been vacationing in the Carolinas and his uncle just walked into the hotel room and asked if he wanted to learn how to fish. They took a charter boat up a river to a lake. There were way too many mosquitos, they nearly lost all their lunch, and Peter was sure something was staring back at him from the water at one point. But it was a fun time. A better time. 

Ding dong

Peter looked up towards the sound, and then got up from the couch, setting the picture frame down. He went to open the door, finding a wrinkled, grey-haired man on the doorstep carrying a case.

“Ah, Peter Parker, I presume?” he asked. 

Peter nodded and the man held out his hand to shake, which Peter took.

“Stan Leiber. Your uncle’s lawyer. May I come in?”

Peter let the man in and quietly led him to the dining room. While Peter sat down, the man put his case on the table and started to pull out folders. Peter caught a few of the labels, but one stuck out the most: Last Will.

“I’m sorry to hear about your uncle,” Stan commented as he worked. “Ben was an outstanding guy from what I could tell. Loved to talk about you when he could. Shame they didn’t catch that mugger.”

Peter smothered a flinch. “Yeah. Shame.” If only someone thought to stop the guy instead of getting petty revenge. Peter bit the inside of his cheek. No, he wasn’t going to wallow in self-pity right now. He could do that later, after this. 

“Alright, let’s see here” Stan pulled out the first folder, labelled ‘Last Will’. He opened it up and then looked up at Peter. “Are you ready? I understand if you need a moment to calm yourself.”

“No, I mean, yeah I’m ready. Get it over with.” Peter could feel how hollow his voice felt.

Stan stared for half a second before reading off the Will. It was a simple thing, just like Uncle Ben. The house and all the belongings were left to Peter, but since he was a minor, the house would be left to a trusted benefactor until he came of age. Uncle Ben had also left all his financial assets to Peter to use for college or whatever science projects he wanted. The amount had almost broken Peter to tears. 

Papers were signed and shuffled back into their little folders, except for one unmarked folder. Stan picked it up and said, “Now, I don’t normally do this, usually my client’s inheritors are of legal age, but your uncle was exceptionally passionate about you so I took it upon myself to look into this matter.”

“What is it?” Peter asked, curiosity piqued.

“Well, it concerns who will be your guardian. Since you’re not of legal age, you would either be handed over to next of kin, a trusted guardian, or a state foster home.” 

Peter’s throat tightened. He knew this was coming, but the idea had been shoved in a mental closet for later. Not something he could process when Ben’s death was so fresh in his mind. But as it was dragged out into the light, Peter could feel the dread pool up inside him and the questions that came with it popped out and scurried around like mice trying to escape the rising waters. 

Stan opened the folder and read over the contents. “Unfortunately, there is no next of kin, but Ben did leave some contact information for a guardian.” Peter perked up in curiosity at the news. “I’ve already sent them the notices and requested that she join us, but it seems she’s running a bit late.” 

The pool of dread stilled its advance as Peter focused on this new development. “I have a guardian?”

“You didn’t know?” Stan asked, but Peter shook his head. “Hmm, well I know your uncle was a good judge of character. I’m sure he trusted this person well enough to take care of you. Are you familiar with the name ‘Rachel Weaverly’?”

“Rachel Weaverly?” Peter sat up straighter as he tried to recall such a name, but to no avail. It was just him and Ben living the bachelor life for years. “Nope. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Ding Dong

Peter looked towards the door, and then excused himself to answer it. He reached for the handle when he felt a prickling sensation run up his body. It felt like someone was whispering “Watch out” over and over but without a voice. There was no direction to it, like when a punch was thrown, just a vague sense of unease coming from behind the door. Just in case, Peter peeked through the window on the side.

He saw two women. One dressed in a crisp business suit like it had just come off the dry cleaner, and the other looked like she came straight out of a biker gang meetup, helmet included. Biker Girl noticed him in the window and lifted her visor to peer back at him. Peter could see her eyes were different colors, one green and one yellow. She flashed him a thumbs up and a gesture to open the door. Peter’s uneasy tingle didn’t lessen in the slightest.

“Can I help you?” Peter said, cracking open the door. He got a better look at the business suit lady. She was tall, with her amber hair tied back in a bun and a very business-like manner about her. She also looked vaguely familiar. Was she on a billboard?

“Hello, Mr. Parker, I’m Gina. I’m a liaison for Rachel, a friend of your Uncle Ben,” the business lady said. “I’m here to discuss a few matters on her behalf.” She flashed a smile at him that would have calmed Peter if not for the insistent Tingle in the back of his head. Yet he didn’t feel any hostility from her.

Peter blinked, and then just rolled with it for now. “Oh good. My uncle’s lawyer was waiting for her, or you that is.” He opened the door.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Gina said, stepping in and following Peter to the dining room. Biker Girl hung back a bit, opting to peruse the photos on the wall while Gina introduced herself to Stan.

Stan squinted at Gina. “Have I seen you before? I think I’ve seen you on the TV.”

Gina bobbed her head and grinned. “Oh, I’ve done a little bit of acting on the side, but that’s not important right now. I’m here on behalf of Ms. Weaverly to attend this meeting and to deliver custody papers to Mr. Parker.” Gina pulled out a clipped stack of papers from a folder. Stan took them and began to peruse the pages. “Rachel regrets not being here in person, but her physical condition doesn’t allow her to leave her house without proper care.”

“Who is Rachel?” Peter piped up, drawing Gina’s gaze. “I’ve never heard my uncle mention her name before.”

“That’s because she’s a very private woman, Mr. Parker. May I call you Peter?” At Peter’s nod, she continued, “I’m told she and your father met overseas. She helped him out of a spot of trouble and your father insisted on repaying the favor. He and your uncle assisted her in coming to the States and getting her textile business set up. Your uncle often assisted in her affairs as she can’t move around the city well. That is, until he had to spend his time raising you.”

Despite what his senses were saying about the woman, Peter could see that as something Uncle Ben would do. It still didn’t add up that Ben would never mention a woman he helped so much, but it would have to be a mystery for another day.

Stan shuffled the stack of papers back together and handed it back. “I’m no Child Services, but everything looks to be in order. And as per his Will, Ben left a letter for Ms. Weaverly, aside from custody of Peter and holding his assets until he’s of legal age.” Stan dug out a small, thick envelope and handed that over as well. 

“I’ll see to it that she receives it.”

“Good, Good. And with that, I’ll be off now. Take care, Peter. Here’s my card if you need to reach me.” Stan left the  card on the table and left the house.

When the door closed, Peter looked at Gina. “So, uh, do I go pack now or…?” Peter trailed off, pointing towards his room.

Gina shook her head and pulled out a phone. “Not yet. Living arrangements is one of the issues we need to discuss, as Rachel is unable to accommodate you at the moment.” She tapped away at the phone and then set it on the table, showing a call on speaker to ‘Spider Boss’.

The call connected and a mature voice filtered through. “Hello, Peter. I’m sorry we have to meet like this, but it’s nice to finally speak with you. Ben spoke quite fondly of you.”

“He never told me about you,” Peter blurted out, wincing as he realized how it sounded. “Sorry, I mean… This is the first I’ve heard about you.”

“And you think it’s suspicious that I’m swooping in during your time of grief, hmm?” Rachel said. “Perhaps that I’m here to take advantage of your emotions and steal the Parker family fortune? Muahaha.”

The blunt nonchalant tone caught Peter off guard, and even with the fake evil laugh, it was hard to tell if she was serious. “Maybe? A little. Wait, there’s a family fortune?” It was a valid question, given the surprises so far.

Rachel scoffed. “There might’ve been, if Ben bothered to cash any of the checks I sent him. Stubborn man didn’t think I owed him anything. ‘Kindness is its own reward,’ he would say.”

Peter couldn’t help but crack a smile. “That sounds like him.” Peter pushed back the memories before he could start crying again. “So, Gina said you needed to talk about living arrangements?”

“Among a few other things, but that’s the most pressing issue right now,” Rachel said. “Due to the suddenness of all this, I’m not quite prepared to take you in. Not yet, anyways. For now, you can keep living in your home. My associates here can help you with anything you need, and they’ll be on their best behavior. ” Her voice rose a bit at the end as the tone pointed at the two women. The Biker Girl stiffened up a bit while Gina was looking a little shifty. 

Peter’s gaze shifted between the girls and the phone. “Thanks,” he said. “What else did you want to talk about?”

“Well, I do want to tell you that I can’t attend the funeral in my condition. I’m sorry.” Rachel sounded quite sincere in her regret.

“What condition is that?” Peter asked. “If you don’t mind. I mean, I don’t really know you at all and if we’re gonna be living together, I think I should know…” Peter wanted to smack himself for his babbling. So much for first impressions.

Rachel chuckled. “Let’s just say that I need specialized equipment to move around outside my house, the kind that my budget can’t really handle.” 

A bolt of inspiration went through Peter’s brain. “Maybe I can make some for you? I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’m good at fabricating equipment.” He was already running through ideas for a potential custom wheelchair. Most of the parts would be easy to find or trade for. 

“Aren’t you a little Tony Stark in the making? Minus his ego though,” Rachel teased. “You don’t need to push yourself for me, Peter. I’ve lived with this since I was born. I know how to get around to where I need to go. Speaking of which, I have to go now, but before I do, I want to ask you one last thing.”

“Sure.”

“How do you feel about spiders?”

“Spiders?” Peter’s mind raced back to the moment that little spider bit him. “They’re alright, I guess? They’re pretty good at taking care of flies and bugs. Like friendly little neighbors.”

Rachel hummed. “That’s good. We have a rather big spider in my home and I didn’t want to frighten you.” The call ended there, leaving Peter to stare awkwardly at his two guests.

Thankfully, Biker Girl was the first to break the silence. “If we’re staying the night, I call dibs on the couch.”

Chapter Text

The days since his two new (temporary) roommates showed up moved by in a haze. Gina coordinated funeral arrangements and other paperwork while the Biker, “Mina” as she introduced herself, would handle any lifting and errands. All the while, Peter continued going to school and keeping his studies up, just like Ben would’ve wanted. He was going through his usual motions in an almost robotic fashion, but after what happened, it brought back some sense of normalcy. 

It was almost as if Ben had never left, but just stepped out to get some milk. 

But Ben was gone, and there were little moments when it hammered home. Ben often woke up early with Peter and had coffee and eggs ready, but the mornings were silent as a grave. Gina sometimes asked questions for little details on the funeral, like flowers or catering. However, the final nail in the coffin was when Peter came home and found Mina sitting on the floor among a mix of flat and built cardboard boxes while she taped another one in her hands.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked.

Mina looked up from her task, showing the wicked scar across her face. “Hey, kid. The Boss asked me to bring some boxes over.” She tore off the tape strip and slapped it across the flaps. “You know, for packing your uncle’s stuff.”

“Right.” The word came out of his mouth with the rest of his breath. The hollowness he had been feeling suddenly opened up into a cavernous pit and the world began to tilt a little. His eyes began to trail along the various photos hung up around the place to the living room where more of Ben’s possessions lay across the mantle and windowsills. Medals and memorabilia from his time as a police officer hung up on the wall. Photos of the two of them out on fishing trips or hikes or at some science fair Peter won. It was all going to be put away, gathering dust in some closet.

Snap! Snap!

Peter flinched as the sound burst in his ear. Mina had gotten up from the floor at some point and snapped her fingers right next to his head. She gave him a concerned look.

“You like motorcycles?” she asked.

To say the question caught Peter off guard would be putting it lightly. “What?” he answered dumbly.

Mina pressed the advance. “You like pizza?”

“Uh… Yeah?”

*****

Peter had stopped yelling several miles back and now just clutched Mina’s waist as she rocketed down the highway. He could just barely hear her whoops over the wind rushing by and the honks of the many angry drivers she blazed past. In any other circumstance, he would have enjoyed this on some level, but it was hard to enjoy the sight of the speedometer edging closer and closer to the triple digits. 

“Can you slow down?” Peter tried to yell.

“Not if we want to get there in time!” Mina yelled back.

“You said this would be a short drive!”

“It is!”

“We’re in New Jersey!”

“I know! We’re almost there!” Mina tweaked the throttle and they sped even faster down the road.

‘Almost there’ turned out to be thirty minutes later when they pulled into the parking lot of some place called “Zombies Crave Pizza.” It looked like some of the dive bars Peter saw back in New York, except the front had a mural of zombies rising from their graves to grab for a slice of fresh pizza. Peter barely had time to pull his helmet off when Mina grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Mina was clearly a regular as she had put in their order before they were seated in a secluded booth. 

“Why’d we come all this way for pizza?” Peter asked, “There’s like, a thousand pizza places in New York.”

“Yeah, but have you ever had a ‘Slice of Hell’?” Mina said with a scoff. “Hell’s Kitchen can’t even deliver that. I’m pretty sure that’s false advertising, but I don’t know who to complain to.”

The corner of Peter’s lips twitched. “I’m pretty sure that’s not why it’s called Hell’s Kitchen.”

Mina gave him a teasing side-eye. “What are you, a history nerd too? Stay in your lane, dude.” She flicked him in the arm. “Bore me to death with the chemical makeup of my soda.”

“That depends on the soda. They all use similar ingredients like carbonated water for the fizz, but certain brands use different kinds of sugar.” Peter started listing off the ingredients, how they bonded to make the flavor, and overall going off on a complete nerdy rant like he had spent his whole life for this explanation. Mina egged him on with a question here and there. It went on past when the drinks came. It kept going even when the pizza arrived, and Peter couldn’t stop talking even between bites. “... and that’s why you should drink out of a glass and not a can.” He finished off his lecture with a long sip of his drink to punctuate his point. He glanced down to see they had demolished their large pizza with ease, though Mina ate a little more than half of it. 

“You sure know your stuff, dude,” Mina said, taking a sip as well. “I understood maybe half of that. You gonna be a scientist after high school?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I want to get into MIT first, then…” Peter shrugged.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Next question: Feeling better now?”

Peter paused mid-sip. “Say what?”

Mina leaned forward. “Kid, this is probably the most alive I’ve seen you since we met. You look better geeking out over soda than moping around at the kitchen table. Boss might get mad at me for this, but you needed a change of scenery for a bit. So, are you feeling better?”

Peter thought about it for a moment, looking down at his plate and the half-empty soda in his hand. He then answered, “I do feel a bit better, yeah.” He wasn’t completely better, but a full stomach of pizza in a place with no memories attached to it helped to clear his mind. 

“Good.” Mina leaned back and grabbed the last of her crust, dipping it in the sauce before biting into it. In between bites, she said, “I won’t sugarcoat it. What happened sucked, and it always will. But instead of focusing on memories, maybe you should take this as a chance to improve yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew a guy who had grandparents that only spoke Spanish and he barely understood them half on a good day. Then one day grandma passes away in the middle of the night. After that, he signed up for Spanish courses and apps to try to understand his grandpa better. Got pretty good at it too.” Mina slurped up the last of her drink. “What I’m trying to say is that you can mourn all you want, but things are different now and you can still make the best of it while you can.”

Peter nodded as he digested her words and pondered on them. But the pondering didn’t last too long when Mina’s phone went off with a loud, hard rock ringtone. The scarred girl picked it up and didn’t get a chance to say hello when a voice screeched through, making Mina wince.

“Gina. Gina, calm down… Yeah, Peter’s with me… I just took him for a ride… Oh, fuck off! We went to get pizza… Just for that, I’m not bringing you a slice… Yeah… Uh-huh… Yep… ‘Kay, we’ll be back. See ya.” Mina hung up and looked at Peter with a smirk. “Pizza time’s over. Just think about what I said, okay?”

“Sure.”

“And try not to crush my ribs on the way back,” she joked as she got up to pay the bill. 

*****

Peter tapped his pencil against his calculus book as he stared down his assignment. He was an hour into the homework, but barely past the fourth question. He would have been done by now, but his mind kept wandering back to the conversation with Mina and the night Uncle Ben died. 

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

Peter had the power and used it for a quick side hustle. No one would have blamed him. But letting that criminal go when it was within his power to stop? And how many more crimes like that happen every day in New York? Stark Tower was in New York, but that didn’t mean the Avengers would come save the day for the little guys like Peter. 

But that was the difference, wasn’t it? The Avengers have great power magnitudes above his and their responsibility was the world at large. Peter Parker was just a kid in Queens with some freaky powers and a whole lot of brains. He didn’t have to save the world, but for the average joe, he could save their world. 

Peter needed to do some research. It was time to figure out his strengths and what he could do. He was also going to need some excuses, the school labs, and a suit to fight crime in. 

And a name. Cool heroes had names.

“Arachno-kid? No, that’s lame. Black Wid- no, that’s gonna be confusing. The Tarantula? God, I don’t want to dress like Chewbacca. Come on, there’s gotta be a cool spider name somewhere.”

Chapter Text

Peter waved his hand in front of Mina’s face a couple times, but she was out cold while the cheap action movie blasted out another explosion sequence on screen. Something about car chases and robbing a bank in Brazil; the plot didn’t interest Peter so much as the physics of two cars dragging an entire bank safe around. But this was no time to get distracted. Satisfied that Mina wasn’t about to wake up, Peter crept around the couch towards the chair where Mina’s helmet sat. 

Tonight was going to be the trial run, and he needed whatever he could get to hide his identity. He gently picked up the helmet, then froze when he heard Mina snort and shuffle behind him. Heart pounding in his chest, he looked over his shoulder to see Mina hadn’t woken up, but rolled over in her sleep. Peter quietly let out the breath he held and crept back up the stairs to his room. 

From there it was a simple matter of putting on his suit, opening the window, and sneaking out the backyard. Peter checked his web launchers one last time, the culmination of two weeks of work and more than a few all-nighters ensuring their success. Making sure the web fluid didn’t clog up the device was probably the hardest part. Luckily, he could brush it all off as extra school projects whenever his two roommates asked about his sleep habits. 

“Alright, Peter,” he said to himself, “Mina’s fast asleep, Gina’s out for the night, and there’s no school tomorrow. Best chance you’ll get. Yeah, let’s do this.” Peter grabbed his backpack and then slid the biker helmet on as he opened his window. He stepped outside, using his hands to attach himself to the wall. Once outside, he took a deep breath and jumped.

***

Peter winced as he mis-calculated the jump off the balance beam and found himself once again on the mat in a pile of limbs. If it wasn’t for his new durability, Peter was sure he would have broken more than a few bones just now. Groaning, he stood back up and looked down at himself.

“Guess Uncle Ben was right. Eating green veggies does build strength,” he joked. He then stared back at the beam across the room. “Jumping at full power got me a bit further than I thought, but better a mat than a brick wall.” Peter’s eyes flicked upwards to the ceiling where the steel beams crossed over it. With only a brief thought, Peter crouched and then leapt upwards like a rocket. 

The ceiling was a little over two stories tall, but Peter managed to catch the ceiling with his palms at the peak of his jump. Had anyone walked in at the moment and looked up, they would have thought he was glued to the ceiling by his hands. Peter gasped at how easy it was, and then laughed at how much the support beams looked like monkey bars. 

Super-hero sized monkey bars.

***

It didn’t take a genius to figure out the theme of Peter’s powers, but it did take Peter a few days of research and long nights of work to figure out how he was going to make the tools he needed. For all the proportional strength and agility of a spider, there was one crucial thing his spider bite neglected to add: web-making. But after a few hours of research and some deep thinking, Peter accepted that it was probably a good thing that he couldn’t shoot webs out of his butt.

Puberty was already bad enough.

Peter worked on a webbing formula at school, using whatever research he could get on adhesives, spider silk, and the chemistry involved. It took a few long after-class sessions in the school labs and a lot of ruined glassware, but he eventually created a working formula of “web fluid.” 

Meanwhile his nights were taken up by designing the wrist launchers and then performing extensive testing to ensure they wouldn’t fail when he would need them most. It took quite a few misfires until he had it dialed in perfectly. Good thing the webbing could be dissolved. Peter didn’t want to explain any sticky white substances on his clothes to his caretakers.

***

Peter struggled to stifle a yell as he swung over the streets. He recalled a time when he would get sick on the roller coasters at Coney Island from all the dips and swings (granted he had stuffed his face with hot dogs before riding), but there was no sense of that nausea now. There was only the heightened awareness of himself and his surroundings. Web a billboard, swing. Web a corner, slingshot around it. Web that window, pull, and fly clear over the building!

Was this how Tony Stark felt flying in his suits? No wonder he used them a lot to get around.

It took almost 5 minutes to make a complete, quick circuit around Manhattan. By that time, he had really gotten into the swing of it, pun intended. Now it was time for the real test. 

“Now if I was a criminal, where would I go?”

A tingle went through his head ( look to your left ) and he received his answer: a little alley just off of Chinatown.

It wasn’t just his muscles and reflexes that got a boost when he could see the mugging about to happen from over a block away. Peter webbed a water tower and swung himself around towards the alley, catching himself on the wall high above their heads. From there, he could just barely hear their catcalls towards the girl they were following.

“What’s this? A defenseless young woman surrounded by five ugly dudes in tracksuits? Well, don’t mind if I save the day.”

Peter jumped around until he was squatting on a fire escape almost over their heads. 

“Get away from me!”

“Come on, baby, we can show you a good time.”

“Yeah. You look like you could use a night of fun.”

“Don’t touch me! I’ll… I’ll call the cops on you!”

“Hear that? She’ll call the cops on us. Us! What are we doing wrong here?”

Peter took that as his moment to chime in. “Probably for spreading that toxic gas you guys call cologne. What is that? Fart de Garbage Dump? I could smell that from Central Park!”

Six pairs of eyes snapped up to look at him.

The leader scowled at Peter. “Beat it, kid. You got no idea who you’re messing with.”

“Five guys who look and smell like they took a jog through the sewers? I’m shaking in my boots,” Peter quipped. “What are you gonna do? Make me need a shower?”

“Bro, don’t make me come up there,” the man said as he pulled out a gun. “Last chance to run or this is gonna get ugly.”

Peter grinned under the helmet. “Oh we’re way past ugly. Five times past. But hey, if you want to come up here,” Peter fired a thread of web at the man’s chest, surprising him, “Then let me give you a lift!” Peter jumped over a nearby sign pole and fell to the ground while the man was launched into the air like a counterweight, yelling as he went. “Oh man, the smell is even worse down here!” Peter said, landing in the midst of the remaining thugs.

“You little shit!” One of the nearest thugs yelled as he tried to throw a punch at the back of Peter’s head.

Without even looking, Peter tilted his head to the side, letting the fist fly over his shoulder. He then grabbed the arm by the elbow and tossed the man like a sack of potatoes into one of his buddies. While those two became a pile of limbs, the remaining two had each pulled out a knife.

“You’re gonna regret messing with us, bro,” one said.

“No one messes with the Tracksuit gang!” the other said.

‘Tracksuit Gang? That’s what they call themselves?’ Peter had to resist the urge to facepalm. Instead, he held his hands up in mock surrender. “Oh no! You found my one weakness: tiny knives!” A twitch of each wrist fired a blob of webbing onto their knife-wielding hands. While they were distracted by trying to free themselves, Peter grabbed one by the collar and threw him into the air. Then in a split second, he spun and swept the legs out from under the other one. While both were in mid-air for that instant, Peter struck both of them with a wide spray of webbing, gluing one to the street and the other onto the wall about a dozen feet up.

Duck, then jump! Peter followed the tingle, ducking first under a wide hook, and then leaping upwards into a backflip to avoid the kick. Landing on the wall as if it were the ground, Peter looked down to see that the last two thugs had gotten back up and thought they could surprise him with a sneak attack.

“Bro, did you put your hand in a subway toilet? I could smell that from a mile away!” Peter mocked.

“Bro, what the fuck?!” one of them said, now shaking in fear. The other picked up some trash and tried to throw it at Peter but missed wildly.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Okay, playtime is over.” He shot threads at each of their heads and pulled them into each other, knocking them out with their own thick skulls. Satisfied with his work, Peter dropped to the ground next to the woman who stood in stunned silence and awe. “Hey, can you call the cops? I kinda left my phone on the charger.”

The woman nodded and fumbled in her purse for her phone. She must’ve looked back up at him as he heard her cry out thanks before Peter swung around the building corner and out of sight. 

“Not bad for a test run,” Peter said to himself. “Definitely need to wear something more flexible next time, or keep it short. Jeans are starting to chafe a bit.” Peter made more notes to himself as he swung the rest of the way home.

***

It was far later into the night when Peter returned home, but the lights were still off and he could faintly see the TV playing through one of the windows. Relieved, Peter shimmied back through his window and started to peel off his suit and gear. Once they were hidden away, Peter crept once more back down the stairs to the living room.

Sure enough, Mina was still dead asleep despite the noise on TV, which now featured a movie about alien robots and lots of explosions. Peter still took care to keep his steps light as he tread across the wooden floor, staying far from the squeaking parts. He reached the side table and set the helmet back where it belonged. Before Peter returned to his room, he grabbed the remote and shut off the TV, and then threw a blanket over Mina.

“Thanks,” he whispered, and then left the room, eager to get some sleep.

*****

The TV played movie after movie, dulling the eyes to sleep, but keeping the ears awake.

Movement. Someone sneaking around like a thief.

It was a natural thing to play dead to ‘Mina’.

The TV shut off. A blanket was offered. A whisper of thanks given.

When the sounds had faded, an eye cracked open in the darkness to see a motorcycle helmet not quite exactly where she left it.

‘What are you up to, Peter?’

Chapter Text

After the first night, there was no word about the new vigilante on the streets. Peter expected as much, not that he was doing it for fame. He had only saved one person from a mugging and there weren’t any cameras around taking pictures or videos to upload. There wasn’t even a mention in the news about the guys he webbed to the wall. But that would change over time.

By the next night, Peter had a better patrol route planned and a slightly better makeshift outfit made from clothes at the thrift store (namely a pair of blue sweatpants and a red hoodie). Peter planned on sewing in or printing on a spider symbol on the hoodie when he got the chance. He was still working on the Hero Name. The current iteration was “Spiderling” but that sounded like a cheap mob monster from a video game. Better than “Wall Crawler” at least.

After making sure he had enough web fluid and that his clothes were snug, Peter once again borrowed Mina’s helmet and jumped out of his bedroom window. Not a few minutes later, he was swinging through the streets of Brooklyn. The skyline was a lot lower than Manhattan, but it was good for practicing short swings and hard turns. However, that also came with a unique set of problems.

“Woah! Sorry!” Peter called out as he dodged a truck barreling through an intersection. His body had moved on instinct just as the tingling in his head began, and then once more to avoid the incoming taxi. Peter shot some webbing and pulled himself high above the streets, but the tingling only faded marginally while the noises and lights seemed to barrage his senses like never before. 

When the cacophony grew too much, Peter took a detour to a quieter part of Brooklyn and rested on top of an old water tower. The Tingle calmed down to a quiet buzz in the background, along with the usual city noises. “Why is it acting up now?” Peter wondered aloud. He tried reviewing what changed.

“Last night was around Manhattan, but Brooklyn is just as busy, so it’s unlikely to be the city itself.” Peter’s eye caught the skyline of Manhattan in the distance. “Is it because I’m lower to the ground? It’s not like there’s a lot of traffic around the skyscrapers. I’m swinging through cars, trucks, and traffic lights, and those are triggering my tingle so I don’t splatter like a bug. Which might be what’s sending my other senses into overdrive.” Peter mulled that over for a second. 

“Too much input near ground level when swinging. Need to tighten that, but how?” Peter gazed around, and then stopped before scanning his surroundings and facepalming. “The helmet. Of course it’s made for wide viewing. How did I miss that? I’ll have to find some kind of goggles. That should fix it.” And here he had picked the helmet to protect his head while swinging, but clearly it was no longer needed. 

Peter sighed. Two steps forward, one step back.

The Tingle tugged at him once, and then the sound of wailing sirens and gunfire approaching followed. Peter looked down to see a nice Corvette being chased by police. Inside the corvette were a couple of guys and duffel bags that were probably not filled with sweaty gym clothes. The two passengers leaned out of their windows to fire upon the chasing police cruiser with little success.

Peter’s heart twinged as he recalled the night Ben died, but it was soothed by the knowledge that now he could do something about it. “I guess second chances do come around.” Peter shot his webs over to another building and pulled, launching him above the street. With the speeding cars in sight, Peter joined the chase.

The lights and sounds barraged his senses once more, but with the object of his focus ahead, it was easier to brush them aside, but it wouldn’t last forever. He used whatever he could to close the distance between them: shorter swings, launching off lampposts, and even hard turns around corners to conserve momentum. Soon enough, the criminals never saw him coming.

“License and Registration please!” Peter shouted as he landed on the hood of the car. He could see the criminal’s eyes bulge in shock. In the back, one of the bags had an open pocket and some cash was poking out of it. The first to recover was the front passenger, who leaned out of his window and brought his gun to bear. Peter was on the man before he had a chance to pull the trigger, crawling to the side of the car. “Oh, you wanted to get out? Here let me help!”

Peter pulled the gun out of his hand and threw it into a nearby storm drain. He then grabbed the man’s collar and pulled him out a little more before wrapping him in some webbing and attaching it to a passing light pole. Inside the car, the driver was struggling to pull out his own gun while keeping his eyes on the road, but the rear passenger sent Peter’s tingle itching as he brought his gun up. 

He will shoot. Pedestrians at risk.  

Without hesitation, Peter shot webbing into the man’s eyes and webbed the gun to his door. “Hey man, don’t you know kids aren’t supposed to play with guns?” Peter slid across the roof and yanked the man out, throwing him onto a nearby building with webbing to keep him in place. “Two down, one to go.”

Crosswalk approaching.

“Huh?” Peter looked up and sure enough people ahead were crossing the street, oblivious to the approaching car. Thinking fast, Peter crawled up towards the driver’s window, only to duck back as a few bullets whizzed by. “Hey buddy, don’t you know you’re supposed to have both hands on the wheel?” Peter webbed both of the man’s hands to the wheel, and then grabbed it and pulled into a sharp left turn. 

The car swerved, but kept going straight. It started to roll on its side. Peter did not keep still as the world seemed to move in slow motion. He crawled onto the car’s roof once more and when it started to face the ground, He webbed the car to a couple anchor points and then dug his feet into the ground. He could hear the panicked shouts behind him, which pushed him even harder to stop the two ton paperweight. Peter had slid back about twenty feet before coming to a stop, and then he set the car down on its side. Looking back, Peter saw the crosswalk was hardly ten feet away.

‘That was close. Almost thought I wouldn’t make it.’ A flash caught Peter’s eye and he noticed the surrounding people had pulled out phones to take pictures and videos. It was at that moment that the cops chasing the criminals showed up. 

“Hey guys,” Peter greeted as they walked up, “Don’t know if you saw, but there’s two dudes I pulled out a few streets back. You’ll find them-!” Peter dodged to the side as two sets of taser prongs flew past. “Whoa! Hey! I’m on your side!”

“Can it, punk,” one cop said. “I don’t know what you did to stop these guys, but I’m not having vigilantes on my watch.”

“Hey lay off, man,” someone from the crowd shouted, “He just stopped a car from running people over!”

“Vigilantism and Reckless Endangerment.” The cop looked at Peter. “Anything else I need to charge you with?”

“My terrible sense of fashion?” Peter said. “Look, you guys got your hands full with this so I think I’ll leave.”

“Oh no you don’t.” The cop began to pull out his hand cuffs.

“Oh yes I do.” Peter hopped on top of the wrecked car and catapulted himself up before swinging away. After sending a couple anonymous tips about the two thugs he had webbed up, Peter went over the chase again and again in his head, picking out what he could have done better. He had done the best he could, but the cop’s second charge made him wonder if anyone nearby had gotten hurt.

Peter retraced the chase discreetly, but saw no signs of bystanders being carried away on ambulances or worse. He might have gotten lucky this time, but if Peter was going to be some friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, then he needed to be more aware of others.

“Hm, ‘Spider-Man’. Yeah, that’s got a nice ring to it.”

*****

Peter was in the middle of sketching out some suit ideas when he sensed someone walk up to his lunch table. He turned the pages to something that looked like homework and saw Ned sit down next to him with an excited look on his face. 

“Hey Peter, guess what?” he asked. 

Peter shrugged. “What?”

“So we were waiting for the teacher to show up for class and one guy was showing this video of a crazy car chase. He was saying that it happened the other night, but it just looks like really good special effects, like Hollywood level.” Ned pulled out his phone and started going through it. “Here, watch it!” He hit play and the video showed a shaky phone camera footage of a familiar scene. Peter saw himself move like an acrobat after sending the car rolling and then catching it like a giant beach ball with webbing attached to buildings. 

Peter winced as a couple pieces of the car went flying off during the roll. He definitely needed a safer way of stopping cars. The video continued to show the police’s arrival, their argument, and then Peter’s escape. “Looks pretty dangerous. You think it’s for some kinda movie?”

“Totally. Looks like some kind of action ninja movie,” Ned said. “But it’ll be hard to beat seeing the Avengers run around, or just any of Stark’s fights.”

“Yeah, that one on the racetrack was easily the best,” Peter replied.

Ned nodded, and then gave Peter a concerned look. “Hey, are you doing better?”

“Better?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Ned gesticulated as he tried to come up with the words, “You’ve been kinda not all there for a while. I mean, since your uncle passed away. You’ve been looking like a robot up until a week ago but now you seem to just be super distracted. I couldn’t figure out how to cheer you up until I saw that video. Did it work?”

“Ned…” Peter smiled and was filled with gratitude for his best friend. “It did work a bit. I’ve just been so busy with the paperwork, packing, and the funeral arrangements that I barely have time for homework. And yeah, I guess I’ve been distracted a bunch lately with some projects. I wasn’t trying to shut you out or anything.”

Ned held up a hand. “Say no more. I know it’s gotta be tough but if you ever need to talk, I’m here.” Ned raised his fist.

Peter smiled and fist bumped him, then went into their complex handshake. “Oh, by the way, I may be moving after the funeral to live with my new guardian.” Seeing the alarm on Ned’s face, he quickly added, “Not out of New York, just to another neighborhood. I’ll still be coming here for school.”

“Oh, okay. Where are you going?”

“I think it’s on the other side of town? I don’t really have an address yet. I just know it’s a bit isolated and has a bunch of green yards.”

Ned whistled. “Wow. Is he rich? Or she?”

“She, and I guess so? She mentioned trying to mail my uncle a bunch of support checks but he wouldn’t take them. I just know she’s a recluse due to some kind of medical condition. I haven’t even met her yet.”

Ned started to respond, but the lunch bell rang and everyone started heading to their next class. “Gotta go, but remember what I said! I’m your twenty four-seven support.”

Peter grinned. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to call at three in the morning tonight.”

Ned paused as he processed the thought. “Uh, maybe eighteen-seven support?”

*****

Chapter Text

Peter was helping put away the dishes when he felt a tingle up his spine and then trouble walked in the front door.

“Lucy, I’m home~!” Gina called out in a sing-song voice. 

“Took you long enough,” Mina said from the couch as she flipped through the channels on TV. 

Gina casually flipped the bird behind Mina’s back as she walked past. “Not my fault some dumb lady kept arguing with the cashier over a refund for her dry cleaning.” Gina walked into the kitchen carrying two sets of formal wear encased in a dress bag. “It was rush hour by the time I left the store. Anyways, here’s the formal wear for the funeral service.”

“Just hang it up in the closet for now,” Peter said, keeping an eye on Gina’s perfectly normal form. He hoped she would follow his words, but it was a futile gesture. Gina strode confidently into the kitchen, walked around the table to the side closest to Peter, and draped them over an empty chair. With her just outside of arm’s reach, Peter’s danger senses were on edge.

Beware. Watch out. Trouble. 

“If I put them in the closet, I’m sure Mina would forget them. Better to have it out where she’ll see them,” Gina said with an innocent smile, but loud enough for Mina to hear. From over her shoulder, Peter could see Mina reach back and flip the bird at Gina.

“I’ll make sure she remembers,” Peter said, turning back to the dishes. His senses spiked and he stiffened as an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“You’re such a responsible, young man,” Gina said, almost affectionately. “How do you not have a line of girls waiting for you to sweep them off their feet?” 

Peter didn’t look at her, hiding his sudden blush, but he felt like a wounded seal with a shark circling around him by how his senses were flaring. “It’s a real mystery, huh?” he said.

Gina hummed and then let go of him, retreating back to the living room. “By the way, I’m going to be staying the night, so I’ll take the spare bedroom,” she said. “Don’t stay up too late, Peter.” She hopped up the stairs and moments later, Peter could hear the bathroom door close. 

Only then did he let out a quiet sigh of relief. Even after the past few weeks, Peter could not figure out how or why Gina set him on edge every time she walked into the room. At first she had been professional and respectful, and she kept Mina in line and busy. But lately it seemed like the mask was slipping and showing a bit more of a playful, teasing side of her. A side that seemed to like asking awkward and uncomfortable questions.

***

The other day:

It was a delicate procedure, calibrating the web shooters. Too little force and they’d never reach their target. Too much and they’d overshoot. He had to set the range just right-

Knock knock

Peter flinched and bumped the trigger, spraying a web across his door. The handle rattled, but the door was stuck fast. Peter went to take it off, but his senses prickled as he approached his door.

“Peter, are you in there?” Gina called out. 

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m just, you know, busy with stuff.” Peter Parker, master of excuses.

The handle rattled once more. “Why is the door stuck? Did you lock it?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to focus on this work.” Peter quickly looked around his room and then quietly threw a few clothes onto the floor. “Also some of my clothes are in the way and my room is a mess. You don’t want to see it, trust me.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Gina spoke in a low voice, “Peter… are you watching porn?”

Peter felt like he’d been punched in the gut from the bluntness of her tone. “What?! No!”

“I understand that you’re a healthy young boy…”

“No! No no no no no! Listen to me!”

“And that you have urges to settle, but keep in mind that we do have to go to the store soon.”

“But I’m not doing that! I’m just…” Peter racked his brain for a suitable excuse, “building some Lego sets my friend gave me.”

There was a long silence before Gina spoke again. “Finish with your Legos and be ready to leave in half an hour.” Peter got the sense she didn’t believe him.

Later, he was sure she hadn’t told Mina about it… until Mina suggested getting a box of Legos with a shit-eating grin on her face. 

***

It wasn’t like Peter had much dignity anyways. He was only grateful that Gina seemed to have some limits, though she did like to push and prod when he least expected it. As far as Peter could tell, Gina wasn’t hostile or had any ulterior plans in motion. It left him with two hypotheses: Gina was playing a long game, or his new senses were glitched when she was around.  

‘Why can’t superpowers come with an instruction manual?’ Peter wondered. ‘Who do I ask if I have a problem? Avengers Tech Support?’ Peter snorted at the thought of Bruce Banner trying to walk him through the problem over the phone. 

Peter shook his head and finished cleaning up the kitchen. Gina was wrong though, he already had plans to stay out late. Once he was done with the cleaning, he said good night to Mina and swiped her helmet while heading for his room. It would be the last night he’d use it as the goggles he had found at the local thrift store were in excellent condition, but needed new straps after they broke when he tried them on. Fortunately, he just planned on practicing his mobility again tonight with a side of stopping some muggings and purse thieves. 

Just as he opened his window, Peter heard a knock on the door.

“Hey Peter, are you still up?” Mina said.

With incredible reflexes, Peter yanked off the helmet and webbed it just outside the window. He stripped off parts of his suit and shoved them under the bed. “Just getting ready for bed,” he replied, calmly as he could. “You need something?” He hoped that would be enough to deter her from barging in.

The gamble paid off as the doorknob didn’t turn. “Nah, I just wanted to check up on you since the funeral’s coming up. Did you take my advice?” she asked. “You’ve been a bit busy since then.”

Peter let out a small sigh of relief. There was no need to fake an answer for her. “Yeah, I did. I’m just working on some little projects that might help people. Ben was always willing to help others. I just want to pass it on.”

“Well that’s good. Do you need any help? I’m good with a wrench or just lending a hand.” 

“No, no, you’re already helping a lot,” Peter said, feeling a stab of guilt about the helmet. “Besides, this is something I need to do on my own. I can handle it.” Grateful as he was, he wasn’t about to put her in danger, or anyone else if he could help it.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” The noise outside the door sounded like Mina began to leave, but then she came back. “Oh, and have you seen my helmet? I thought I put it up by the door.”

Peter, who had a hand out the window to reach for it, said “Uhh, no? Maybe it’s in the laundry room?”

“I haven’t checked there yet. Thanks, Peter. G’night!” The hallway floor creaked as Mina walked away.

Peter counted to twenty and then grabbed the helmet and swung out the window.

*****

Peter spent the better part of an hour practicing his parkour. It was simple enough to calculate the swings in his head, but another thing to shave seconds off of an awkward route where an emergency might be. Every second counted when lives were in danger. Peter reached the goal post once again and checked his watch.

“Oh come on! I had it that time!” he groaned as the timer displayed an embarrassingly high number for the course he arranged. He had been so sure that cutting between those apartments would have been a good shortcut, but then he had overshot the alleyway he meant to go through. 

“Okay, one more time.” Peter hopped up to a ledge and mentally traced out his path. He crouched into a running stance and-

Behind you.

Peter spun around as he jumped aside, anticipating the danger. But as he looked behind him, there was no assailant to be found. Falling back onto a railing, Peter scanned his surroundings, but found no one waiting in the shadows. 

“Huh, maybe I’m more tired than I thought?” Peter mused. “One more run, and then I think I'll call it a night.” Peter got back into his running stance, but as he did, a slight prickle went up his spine.

Watching.

Peter whipped his head back in the direction he felt it from. He stared at it, and ‘it’ stared back. Then Peter laughed. “A cat? That’s what I’m worried about? Guess I really am tired.” The dark tabby meowed and started to walk up to him. “No, I don’t have any food for you, kitty. Go find a really big rat for yourself.” The cat meowed again and rubbed against his leg. “Being cute will not make me have any food to give you.” As if understanding his words, the cat now ignored him like a pile of fish bones. Peter shook his head. “Cats.”

Once again, he crouched down, and this time, he jumped off the building. He was going to beat his time and go home for the night. Peter swung past the first few buildings, flew around a corner, and raced for the nearest skyscraper to give him a boost in altitude. He stuck his web to the window and threw his body into the arc, waiting for the last moment to let go and launch him high into the air. As he reached the apex of his jump, Peter looked out across the city lights below him.

“Man, I wish I had a camera right now.”

Dodge from above!

Shocked by the sudden alert, Peter ducked reflexively, but he was still an easy target in mid air. Realizing his mistake, Peter shot a web for the nearest wall and pulled. But as he did so, something flew in close and grabbed his helmet, ripping it off of his head. Peter crashed into the wall he grappled to, disorienting him for a second, before he scanned the skies for his assailant.

There! The figure vanished around the corner of a building but Peter caught its profile. It looked like some giant, mutant vulture, but the proportions were all wrong. Whatever it was, it had Peter’s (or rather Mina’s) helmet and he was not losing that!

“Time to play ‘Follow the Birdie’.” Peter launched himself down the path the Birdie took. He could see its silhouette against the city lights, making it simple to spot. Peter used short swings and slingshots to speed up to it, though he was hampered by the twists and turns it took to evade him.

Eventually, Peter got close enough for a better look at it. He almost missed a turn as he did a double take at what he saw. What he thought was a bird looked more like a child with wings for arms and claws for feet. It looked like something out of a bad monster movie, except it was in front of him and had the helmet tight in its claws. Somehow, the fact that it was wearing rags shocked him most of all. 

“Did I just stumble on some mad scientist’s escaped experiment?” Peter pushed the thought aside and focused on catching up. Answers would come after he caught her.

It was then that the bird person looked back at him, twisting it- her body around. They made eye contact and then she winked at him before juking into a dark alleyway. It happened so fast that Peter missed the turn and had to swing around to the other end of the alleyway. But upon arriving, there was no sign that the bird person- girl, had left the place. Peter rushed into the alleyway, landing in the middle of it.

“Here birdy, birdy, birdy,” he said, but the alley was as still as a pond. However, Peter’s senses told a different story.

Beware. Look out. Danger.

Peter turned around, trying to pinpoint the direction, but the only thing he found was the helmet laying on the ground. Peter slowly approached the helmet, keeping an eye out for any sudden ambush. Peter picked up the helmet, then winced at the new scratches along the outside of it.

“Maybe she’ll believe it was under Uncle Ben’s tackle box?” he muttered to himself. He put it back on and searched around for the bird girl. There was no sign at all of her, not even a feather. It was like she disappeared, yet she had to be around.

“Hey sugah, looking for something?” a sensual voice called out.

Peter whipped around, ready for a fight, except what he saw wasn’t the bird girl. The only feathers this woman had was from a neon feather boa wrapped around her neck and arms. Her clothes could only politely be called skimpy at best, and they hugged her frame far too well. Peter didn’t know where to look as it seemed every point on her was provocative.

“Hey now, if you keep staring like that, I’m gonna have to start charging you for it, and it ain’t cheap!” she said. She laughed as Peter realized he was staring and decided to look off to the side. 

“S-Sorry! I was looking for this girl with feathers on her arms,” he said. He tried counting the bricks on the wall to distract himself.

The lady giggled. “Ooh, you mean little ol’ me?”

“N-No, I mean she looked like she was part bird or something.” There was quite a lot of mold on these bricks. The building could use a power washing.

“I don’t know about this ‘little birdie’,” she said, slowly approaching. She stopped just a few feet away. “But, if it’s birds you want, hun, then how about I take you to my little ‘love nest’, hm?” She started to lean forward…

“Oh wow! Would you look at the time? I think I left my oven on and my fridge is still running. I’m just gonna go take care of that. Have a nice night!” Peter shot a web and pulled himself out of that fire. He raced across New York searching for any problems to solve, even saving cats from trees. Anything to get his mind off… whatever that was.

It was going to be a long night..

****

The prostitute stared after the boy who just crawled off like a spider on fire. She held her hurt expression for all of five seconds before bursting out laughing. She even leaned against the wall as her gut clenched from trying to burn the sight into her memory. After a few minutes, she calmed down, and then dropped her disguise.

Her skin turned to a mocha brown and her eyes shifted to yellow pupils on black sclera. Her hair flattened out and flowed down like a waterfall, bleaching to a pale white as it did, and it moved to surround her body in a spiral. Her height shrunk, her clothes melted into her skin, and her body slimmed down to something younger.

Doppel, back in her preferred form, grinned like a shark as she pulled out her phone and called a number labeled ‘Deadbeat’. It picked up on the first ring.

“Hey Zombina, looks like I owe you twenty bucks. That tracking chip in your helmet worked, and you’re not going to believe what I caught Peter doing. I already can’t wait to see the look on his face when he meets the boss.”

Chapter Text

Peter let out another yawn before taking another bite of his scrambled eggs. 

“Wow, that was a full two seconds,” Mina commented. She served herself a plate of eggs and sat down at the table. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Mhmm, yeah. There was a… bird outside my window.” Peter grumbled out between bites. He hadn’t meant to stay out so late last night, but after that… encounter , he went on a bit of a hero spree that went on a little too long. As soon as he saved one person from a drunk driver, there was a bank robbery on the next street, and then a purse snatcher just around the corner. It was always one more thing, one after the other. If he hadn’t been forced to swing through Times Square, he would never have even noticed the time.

Thankfully his altered biology didn’t make him drunk after a cup of coffee in the morning, but Peter still wasn’t sure what his caffeine limit was, or if there even was one. He really hoped not if he was going to have to pull more all-night crime fighting sprees in the future. But it was something to experiment with later.

“A bird huh? Was it a tit?” Gina asked as she walked into the kitchen, causing Peter to nearly choke on his food. “Were there two of them? I hear a pair of tits can be quite noisy.” She chuckled as Peter glared at her.

Peter sighed and jabbed his fork into his eggs. “I don’t know what kind of bird it was,” he said, thinking back to the strange creature last night. “Sounded big. Might do some research on it today.”

“Let us know when you do so we can give you some privacy for your research .” Gina laughed at Peter’s tired frustration. She quickly grabbed herself some food to go and left the house.

“You know she does that just to get a rise out of you, right?” Mina sipped her coffee. 

Peter shrugged. “Uncle Ben taught me not to let bullies get under my skin, but this… this is new to me. I’ll get used to it eventually.”

Mina’s eyes narrowed at him over her coffee. “You get bullied often?”

“It’s just this one jerk with more money than sense, as Uncle Ben would say.” Peter shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I know how to deal with him.”

Mina stared at him for a moment before downing the rest of her cup. “If you say so. But if he ever becomes a problem, tell me and I'll revoke his kneecap privileges.”

Peter grimaced. “Please don’t. He’s just got a big ego that thinks name calling is the best thing since locker stuffing. Plus, his dad could probably sue us into the ground if you did.” Peter’s eyes caught the clock and widened. “Crap! I’m late for the bus!” He shoved the rest of the food in his mouth and chewed while he put on his shoes and grabbed his backpack. He waved goodbye to Mina and heard her mention picking him up later right as he ran out the door.

*****

Peter stared down at his homework, but he could barely focus on it as his mind replayed the night before. Every angle he looked at it from, nothing made sense. What was that creature? How had no one noticed it before? Why did it attack him? Why lure him into some dark alleyway? He was missing some key piece of the puzzle, but he couldn’t figure it out for the life of him.

“Hey man, sorry I’m late.” Ned slipped into the chair across from Peter. “Mr. Hernandez wouldn’t stop talking and took forever to assign homework.”

Peter nodded in sympathy. “It’s alright. I haven’t gotten much done yet.”

“What, are you stuck on a problem?” Ned asked. He glanced down with concern at Peter’s papers.

“No, just distracted today,” Peter said, and then an idea struck him. If anyone would know about strange creatures, it would be Ned. “Hey I saw this trailer on someone’s phone on the subway and there was this girl with wings in it. What would you call that? I’m drawing a blank on it and it’s been bugging me.” 

Ned had a thoughtful look as he sat down and opened his textbook. “That’s a little broad, dude. What kind of wings?”

“Feathery ones, like birds.” Peter waved his arms in a flapping motion. “And it was on her arms, not like angel wings on her back.”

“Hmmm, that sounds like a harpy.” Ned flipped through his textbook for a minute until he found the page he wanted. He flipped the book around for Peter and pointed at a picture of an ancient drawing. It was nowhere near like the creature he saw, but there were some similarities. The wings and claws were in the correct spots, but the bodies themselves varied from bony adults to giant chickens with a woman’s head. Peter clearly remembered a small child in rags.

Peter nodded. “Harpy! That’s what it was. Thanks, man.” He started to push the book back when a hand came out from behind him and caught the page.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Parker?” Flash asked with a sneer. His eyes locked onto the pictures of the harpies, or more accurately what they bared. “Wow, are you that desperate for a girl that you have to look up tiddies in a history book?”

“Buzz off, Flash,” Peter grumbled, trying to remove the bully’s hand from the book without giving away his strength.

“Come on, Parker, I just want to help. Guy to guy, you know?” Flash looked down at Peter. “Well, more like Chad to Virgin. Here’s some advice: Quit being such a dorky loser.” Flash walked away, letting his hand ‘accidentally’ smack Peter upside the head.

Ned glared at the retreating jock. “What a jerk. Don’t listen to him, Peter.”

“Never did, and wasn’t planning to change that.” Peter passed the book back to Ned. 

The two of them returned to studying, but Peter’s mind still strayed back to the harpy encounter. Figuring out the identity of the creature did little to answer any other questions that rolled through his head. No matter what angle Peter came at it from, the only way to get answers was to find and catch the harpy again. Only problem was that the harpy found him last time. But if Peter needed to be bait, he was willing to wrap himself in bits of bread and bagels. Or whatever Harpies liked to eat. 

It wasn’t long until study hall was over and it was time to go home. The bell rang and Peter’s phone chimed. Peter checked it to see it was a text from Mina.

‘ In the car loop with my bike. ’ 

Peter packed up and bid his friend goodbye. Only a minute later did he realize that Mina was in the car loop. With a motorcycle. In front of everybody. Peter picked up the pace and almost ran out the door. He scanned the car loop and found the familiar bike and helmet amongst the cars. Casually as he could, Peter walked around the crowd towards Mina’s position. He was about to make a break for it when the last person he wanted to see showed up.

“Hey babe, nice ride!” Flash said as he strolled up with his usual swagger. 

Mina flipped up the visor on her helmet and stared at him. “Can I help you?”

“Maybe. Do you mind giving me a lift? My car’s been having issues. We could stop by this amazing pizza place. On me, of course.” It was incredible how Flash could say all that with a straight face. Peter knew for sure that he had come in his dad’s car this morning.

Mina blinked. “You’re a ballsy one, aren’t you?”

“It’s just the natural Flash confidence.” Flash leaned on the front of the bike. “So what do you say? You, me, and some pizza?”

Mina’s eyes narrowed and Peter’s senses started to itch, so he chose that moment to step in. “Hey, Flash.”

Flash’s grin washed away into a frown as he turned to face Peter. “What do you want, Parker? I’m trying to score here,” he hissed out.

It wasn’t difficult to think of an adequate excuse. “Sorry, but Mr. Iglesias wanted me to tell you he needs to talk about your last test. Said it was important. Sounded like you might not pass.”

Flash’s eyes widened. “We’ll talk later, babe!” he said to Mina before running off.

Only when he was out of sight did Mina chuckle. “Nice going. I was going to break his arm if he kept talking.” She tossed Peter a helmet.

“But not really, right?” Peter asked as he put the helmet on. Mina only responded with a hum, so Peter asked a little more insistently, “But not really, right?”

Mina shrugged, and once Peter was behind her, she gunned the throttle and sped out of the loop. Only a few minutes later did Peter realize they weren’t heading home right away.

***

Peter stared at the dirty exterior of the store. There was a flashing neon sign next to the door  that said ‘Pharmacy’, but a few of the letters were burnt out or flickering. Peter tried not to judge, but this corner store was almost a hole in the wall on the edge of a sketchy neighborhood. It might as well have a sign saying ‘Get Your Illegal Drugs Here!’ But this is where Mina parked her bike and started walking up to.

“What are we doing here?” Peter asked, trying to act casual.

“Getting illegal drugs,” Mina said with mock seriousness. She chuckled at Peter’s doubletake and playfully shoved Peter. “Relax, it’s just medicine. Boss can’t leave home and doesn’t like random people walking up to the door so I gotta play errand girl.”

“And the reason we can’t pick it up from a grocery store pharmacy is because…?”

Mina opened the door, ringing a bell. “Because the boss values privacy and this guy doesn’t ask questions. Most of the things we need aren’t over-the-counter drugs anyways.”

“Like what?”

“Formaldehyde and horse drugs”

Peter paused mid-step as the words processed through his brain. He looked to Mina to see if she was joking again, but it was impossible to tell from her attitude. So he kept following her up to the counter where a skinny, greasy man stood by the register, playing on his phone.

“Need something?” he grunted out without looking up.

“Order pickup for Rachel.” Mina fished out a wad of cash from her pocket and tossed it on the counter. 

The man glanced up at Mina and then put his phone away. “Gimme a sec.” He slunk to a door marked ‘Employees Only’.

As soon as the door closed, Peter asked, “What does she need formaldehyde for? I can guess that she has a horse to take care of that needs the pills, but why formaldehyde?”

“Oh that’s for me,” Mina said. She gave Peter a sidelong look. “It’s part of a skin care routine I’m working on.”

“Skin care?” Peter frowned in confusion. “But it’s a mild irritant and usually meant for preserving dead tissue.”

Mina grinned like a shark. “Oh, I got a lot of dead tissue.” She tapped a finger against the scar that crossed her face and then lifted her shirt to show her midriff scars. “You could almost say it’s a full body issue. A little bit of that zombie juice keeps me looking nice and fresh.”

“...I’ll take your word for it then.” It wasn’t like Peter knew the first thing about cosmetics beyond some basic chemical makeups. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get those scars?”

“It’s complicated,” Mina said, lowering her shirt. “But the quick and dirty version is that my ex-boyfriend gave them to me.”

Peter gasped. “Did he attack you with a knife?”

Mina barked with laughter. “Oh no, this was from him trying to patch me up. I got injured by a drugged up psycho stalker with a machete.”

The sheer casualness she spoke with hit Peter like he was being slapped by a frozen fish. Peter stared at Mina with disbelief, then looked at her scars and then back to her. “How are you still alive?”

“I told you, it’s the formaldehyde skin care routine.” Mina gestured to herself and winked. “It works wonders, you know?”

Peter was certain that it didn’t work like that, but before he could call her out on it, the back door opened and the greasy shopkeeper returned with a large bag in hand. Wordlessly, he placed it on the counter and started ringing up the items, counting out the bills Mina had left on the counter. He handed back the change before returning to his little phone game. “Thanks for shopping here,” he rattled off like a robot.

Mina grabbed the bag and money and headed for the door, Peter in tow. Halfway to the door, the bell above the door rang as three burly men in leather jackets walked in, laughing at some joke. Mina paused mid-step to avoid running into the first guy. “Hey, watch where you’re going.”

“Heh, sorry, Sweetcheeks. Here, lemme get the door for ya.” He held the door open while the other two guys stood aside.

“Thanks.” Mina began walking through.

“No, thank you.” The guy holding the door gave her a swat on the butt.

Mina froze on the spot, then slowly turned her head to glare at the man leering at her. “What a gentleman. Would you also be so nice as to hold this for me?” Mina shoved the bag into his hands, and as soon as he had a grip on it, she punched down at his groin.

The man’s leer was gone in a flash, replaced with shock and then agony. The other two winced, even as one had pulled out a phone to snap a picture. The bag was taken back out of the pained man’s hands which quickly raced down to cup his broken jewels.

“Aw, thank you,” Mina said in a sickly sweet tone. She gave the other two a baleful glare as she walked out the door. They wisely did nothing.

Peter sidestepped the now crouching man and made for the door. “Clean up on aisle three.” He kept an eye over his shoulder to make sure they didn’t follow them back to Mina’s bike, but the only action he saw was their attempt to help their friend up. “Was that a good idea? Those guys look like they’re from a biker gang.”

Mina rolled her eyes as she packed the bag into her bike bags. “Please, most biker gangs are full of crap, like high school bullies. Show them you’re not to be messed with and they back off like whipped dogs. They’ll probably just complain to their boss who’ll just smack them around for being pussies.” She tossed Peter his helmet and got on the bike.

“Coming from experience?” Peter asked as he put the helmet on.

“Well I didn’t get these scars by running with the right crowds, I’ll tell you that.” Once Peter had his arms around her, she gunned the throttle and sped out of the alley onto the street, leaving one of the thugs holding out his phone to eat dust.

Chapter Text

For all the preparations that went into it, Uncle Ben’s funeral went by in a blur. It wasn’t long, but Peter did notice there were more people than he expected to show up. Word had gotten out and old friends from work and people Ben had personally helped had appeared to mourn the loss of a good man. There were even people who had only met Uncle Ben a few times at a soup kitchen. It was touching, Peter supposed, to know that Uncle Ben had helped so many people that they would give back the kindness. 

The only odd thing that stood out to Peter was a number of pretty ladies that arrived. They all had strange wrappings on them in various spots (some had especially baggy hats) and yet none looked like they were affiliated with each other. One woman looked perfectly normal for a New Yorker. Almost too perfect. It was only when Peter passed by her that his senses shifted on edge very similar to when Gina was around. 

He was about to ask who they were when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Another woman, but one who was about his uncle’s age. Dark hair framed a youthful face, but Peter could see traces of makeup covering crow’s feet and stress lines. “You’re Peter, aren’t you? Ben’s nephew?”

“Yeah that’s me. Who are you?”

“I’m May. I worked with your uncle down at the F.E.A.S.T. Shelter. I’ve seen you there a few times when your uncle brought you over, but we never properly met.” She held out a hand.

That explained why she looked vaguely familiar to Peter. “I think my uncle mentioned you,” Peter said, shaking her hand. “You’re one of the administrators, right? Ben used to say that you’re half the reason the shelter runs so well.”

May’s face grew a small blush. “Your uncle was always too modest for his own good. I’d say he’s the other half of the reason it runs well. Your uncle had a way of helping people that I’ve rarely seen. He was always the best at defusing any arguments that cropped up, and when we needed some helping hands he was always the first to volunteer. The shelter lost a good worker and the community lost a good friend.” There was a wistful, almost tender note to her voice. It didn’t take a genius to see the genuine care in her expression.

“I knew he volunteered a lot, but I had no idea he helped so many people,” Peter said, glancing around at the mourners. 

On second glance, he could see many were in hard times by the raggedness of their clothes or the gauntness of their cheeks, but they all showed up in their Sunday best to pay their respects to a good man. One man’s kindness was repaid a hundredfold, even if he was no longer around to accept it. In his stead, Peter quietly resolved to pay it forward either with or without his costume.

May nodded. “That’s right. I see quite a lot of faces that your uncle has helped out of hard times. You know,” she leaned in close as if to whisper a secret, “He used to talk all our ears off about you.”

“He did?”

“Oh, almost all the time. Of all the things he talked about, his favorite had to be you. He was always proud of how well you were doing.” She giggled. “I feel as if I already know you despite not having met you properly.”

Peter felt a little embarrassed by the attention, but more ashamed that he hadn’t gone to the shelter more often with his uncle. Uncle Ben did want him to do well at school (and Peter did), but Peter had been neglecting the community for so long in favor of diligent studying. “I don’t suppose you’re looking for any more volunteers?” he asked.

The corners of May’s eyes crinkled with her gentle smile. “With your uncle passed away, there’s some big shoes to fill. But if you’re everything he says, I think you’ll do just fine.” She pulled out a small business card. “Here, my number. Call me anytime if you have any questions or even if you just want to talk. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there for you when he passed, but it would’ve been rather suspicious if some strange woman showed up knowing all about you and your uncle and wanting to help.”

Peter suppressed a wry grin at her choice of words. “Yeah, very strange.”

May said her goodbyes and left to speak with a few other mourners she knew. Peter, remembering his original task, turned back around to find the strange ladies. Except they all seemed to have vanished during his short conversation. No, there was one left. A short girl who wore a thick, black veil across her face that clashed with her hoodie and sweatpants.

But before he could approach her, another interruption came in the form of Mina, twirling her motorcycle keys. 

“Hey kid, ready to go? The Boss is waiting to meet you.”

“Sure, sure. But real quick, does that lady look strange to you?” Peter discreetly gestured to the veiled woman.

Thankfully, Mina glanced over without looking too obvious. “Looks like one of those ‘goth’ kids. The kind to wear black and have a dozen piercings. Might be sporting some tattoos under that hoodie.” She arched an eyebrow. “Why? You interested in that type?”

Peter gave a deadpan look. “No, and don’t start asking what my type is. Look, I just noticed her and a few other strange ladies around the funeral.”

“Sounds to me like your uncle was a bit of a heartbreaker,” Mina said with a chuckle. She dodged a friendly punch to the arm. “So you saw some chicks that might’ve known your uncle. What do you want me to say?” 

Peter had no answer to that. It was a hunch at best and blatant suspicion at worst. Maybe the lack of sleep was making him jump at shadows. First the ‘harpy’ and now strange ladies in baggy clothes. Either Gina’s comments were finally getting to him or puberty was making a final comeback.

“Forget it.” Peter shook his head. “Let’s go home. It’s been a long day.”

*****

Peter paid little attention to the streets racing by as Mina weaved through traffic. He was glad she entertained his request to take the long way to the mansion, if only to mentally prepare himself. He wondered how to greet this ‘Rachel’ lady, how to ask how she was, and even how to ask who she was. There was too little information for Peter to work with and that bugged him to no end. But he had faith that if Ben was willing to help her, then she had to be a good person.

Maybe she’d like his bad jokes? It’s worth a shot.

The rumble of another motorcycle behind them caught Peter’s ears and he paid it no mind, letting it bleed into the white noise of New York. He made idle calculations in his head around the nearby buildings. Another rumbling motorcycle pulled out of a street ahead of them, nearly clipping a car. Peter imagined himself swinging through and around them on his way to catch a new criminal. As they drove past an alleyway, two more pulled out onto their left, and then another two on their right as Mina passed the next alley.

When Peter’s Tingle started giving him a creeping ‘ warning ’ notice in the form of prickling hairs, they were surrounded by motorcycles. From his position, Peter could only see that they were dressed in leather and jeans, like a typical biker gang. Their bikes were all custom choppers, made to show off their chrome and roar like lions, and each of them etched with a cross-shaped gravestone. Some wore helmets, but those who didn’t looked a bit pale and sallow in the face.

Peter felt Mina tense up a bit under his grip. He noticed her helmet twitch slightly from side to side, as if she was eyeing up the new arrivals. Mina’s hand shifted its grip on the throttle, ready to gun it on a moment’s notice. Unfortunately, the other bikers noticed too and shifted into an escort formation, cutting off any escape. One of the bikers to the side began to make gestures at Mina with one hand.

“Something wrong?” Peter asked after hearing a soft curse from Mina. There was no immediate warning from the Tingle from what Peter could tell, but he could feel the tension thicken in the air to the point he could bite into it. 

Mina hesitated to respond, and then said, “Not yet. Just stay calm, okay? I got this.” Her voice was like a babysitter trying to assure a child that the strange man at the door was definitely not the pizza delivery guy and to let them handle the situation.

The escort led them towards the docks where the rundown warehouses sat. Waiting there were more thugs, armed ones who held open a warehouse door for everyone to drive into. The second the last bike was through, they began to push it shut. Mina braked into the center of the warehouse while the escort started driving circles around them. After a few laps, they parked their bikes in a circle with the headlights pointed right towards the pair. Some stayed on their bikes, but most hopped off and kept to the edge of the circle.

For a long moment, no one moved or spoke, each side sizing up the other. Peter counted out about a dozen thugs standing around them, hiding behind the lights. The quiet was soon broken by one thug who stepped forward. He towered over the others by a few inches and had a wicked looking skull tattooed into his face. “Take off the helmet,” he said.

“Do I know you?” Mina shot back. “Most guys ask for the shirt first.”

“I said take it off!” Skull Face growled out.

Peter could almost picture Mina rolling her eyes under the visor as she unclipped the helmet. She pulled the helmet off and set it in her lap. “Hope you got some spare singles handy, pal. I ain’t cheap.”

Skull Face’s eyes narrowed. “Oh I got money. Gonna be rolling in it when I drag your skinny ass back to the boss.” He put his fists together and cracked his knuckles.

“Hahaha! What does some two-bit biker gang want with little ol’ Mina?” she asked playfully. “Did I scratch their ride?”

“Tombstone told us what you did, Zombina ,” Skull Face said, wiping the grin off Mina’s face with the name drop. “Matter of fact, I was there when you trashed our operation.”

“ Zombina? ” Peter mouthed out.

“Oh yeah? How’d you get away from the explosion?” The mirth in Mina’s voice was replaced by a stone coldness that sent chills up Peter’s spine.  “I used a lot of C-4 for that. You should be a red smear under a pile of rubble.”

Skull Face grinned. “I played dead . I did learn from the best.”

Mina scowled and said, “Tell you what. I’ll make a generous offer. You let the kid here go free and I’ll let you have the first punch.” She patted Peter on the shoulder.

“Mina, what the hell-?” Peter’s words were cut off as Mina wrapped an arm around his neck in a headlock.

“Shut it. Ain’t none of your business, kid,” she said to him. Mina looked back up at Skull Face. “C’mon, the kid has a curfew and you’re making me late for it already.”

Skull Face snorted. “Have you been going soft, Zombina? Your brain get all rotted out?” He eyed Peter once and said, “Fine. Let the kid run. He looks too skinny to be useful anyways.”

“Damn right he’s too skinny,” Mina grunted. She leaned down to Peter and whispered, “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been in worse scrapes than this. You get over to the Boss’ house now. I’ll be fine.”

“B-But-!”

“I said, I’ll be fine!” Mina shoved him away towards the door. “Get outta here. Don’t try to be a hero.”

Except Peter wanted to. He so desperately wanted to as the scene became painfully familiar. Every instinct he had was telling him to start punching these guys' lights out. He had the power now. He could save her!

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

Ben’s words were like a balm, cooling Peter’s nerves. No, throwing the first punch wouldn’t do any good. They had guns out and itchy trigger fingers. All they saw right now was ‘the skinny kid’. If he made the first strike, they’d gun them both down at best. At worst… They knew his face, and they certainly knew Mina’s (or ‘Zombina’). If they were willing to track her down for whatever revenge scheme they had planned, then there was a good chance they would find him and the people he cared for. 

There was a way out of this, but it wasn’t the right moment. He sighed and nodded before running past the thugs for the rusted side door. He acted as if the door was tough to open, giving him a chance to slip on his web shooters. After he slipped through, he slammed it shut and looked around for any backup thugs watching.

There wasn’t a soul in sight or even hiding in the shadows. Peter quickly flung a web out and pulled himself up into the gantry of a nearby crane. Concealed among the framework, and holding himself up by a leg, Peter opened his backpack and pulled out his makeshift costume. He scrambled to put it on, knowing that every second he wasted was another that would get Mina hurt.

It might’ve been a record for a costume change, but to Peter every second was a second too long. He stuffed his funeral clothes into the backpack and webbed it to the crane’s frame. Then he looked down at the drop from the crane to the warehouse roof. If Peter was feeling rational, he’d figure it was a good four story drop. But the adrenaline coursed through his veins and all he could figure was how to get down the fastest way. 

So he jumped. 

Backflipping off the crane away from the warehouse, he raced towards the ground. Halfway there, he fired a web at the crane and used his momentum to swing himself over the roof like an underhand softball throw. There had been only one place he could safely make an entrance through that he saw. As soon as he cleared the building, Peter fired both web shooters at opposite sides of a dilapidated window. He heaved his arms and slingshot himself towards it, feet first. 

The window was no match for the Spider-Man missile and the cacophonous crash grabbed everyone’s attention. Perfect. 

“Hey guys, are you having a party? I love parties! Mind if I join in?” Peter shouted as he landed on a rafter. “Here, I’ll set up the decorations!” He shot webs at one of the nearby goons and used him as a counterweight to drop to the floor. At the bottom, with one hand still around the web, Peter landed next to another thug and pushed the web string into his hands. “Here, hold this for me.” Peter then webbed the thug’s hands together around the string and let go, watching the man be yanked up into the air. A quick web shot prevented the man from flying over the railing.

Two down, too many more to go.

Mina, who was now being restrained from behind to use as a punching bag, used the distraction to kick her attacker in the balls and then smash the back of her head into the face of the thug holding her. The moment he let go to cradle his broken nose, she judo flipped him over her shoulder into her attacker. She didn’t waste a single second to jump into the fray, bowling the nearest guy over with a kick to the face.

“Who is this guy?!”

“I don’t know! Just get him!”

Several thugs rushed towards Peter, but he had no interest in being caught in a dogpile. He leapt over the crowd with ease and landed by the ring of motorcycles. Like picking up a suitcase, Peter lifted a bike over his head and shouted, “Hey guys this is a no parking zone!” He chucked the vehicle at the men, and those who did not jump out of the way were knocked to the ground. While they tried to recover, Peter searched around to find Mina and saw her facing down Skull Face in a knife fight.

But before Peter could even jump in to help her, his Tingle blared in his ear.

Bullets! Behind you!

Time slowed down as adrenaline coursed through his body. Peter could almost feel the trajectory the bullets would take, the points of his body they were aimed at. Three at his torso, one for his head, and two more that would graze his limbs. With a limberness that eclipsed an olympic gymnast, Peter twisted his body as the shots were fired, letting the first few fly wide and then literally bending over backwards to watch the rest sail over his head. In any other circumstance, Peter would’ve been fascinated by the display of skill.

There was a split second pause in the firing and Peter took advantage of it by firing several web globs at the guns, clogging the barrels. “Don’t you kids know that guns aren’t toys?” he quipped. “Until you learn to play nice, I’m gonna have to take these away.” With a few deft roundhouse kicks, Peter separated the guns from their hands and stuck them all in a web ball on the ceiling.

Without access to their guns, the fighting quickly turned into an all-out brawl. The first to throw a punch at Peter was grabbed by the arm and thrown into another guy. The next thug tried to grab Peter from behind, but Peter dropped to the floor and swept the man’s legs out, sending him crashing into the floor. The remaining three stayed just out of arm’s reach, but Peter didn’t let it stay that way. He webbed one in the chest and pulled, ramming his knee into his face and knocking him out cold. 

“Come on guys, I may be new to this, but you don’t have to take it this easy on me,” Peter taunted. 

“Shut up, you fucking punk!” 

The two thugs standing rushed in while the others tried to get back up. They would throw haymakers, sucker punches, or even try to tackle Peter. However Peter would dance and twist his way out of danger each time. Sometimes he even got a few of the guys to punch each other’s lights out like a twisted comedy routine. One by one, the thugs would go down for the count.

Peter launched the last thug into a support column and wrapped him in webbing. “Nice hustle, guys. Next time, try not to commit any crimes and you won’t be as beaten up.” Earning a muffled groan in response, Peter turned away to look for Mina, but found himself facing an all too familiar scene.

Skull Face and Mina were face to face, grunting in exertion as they wrestled over a pistol. The gun swung between them. Fingers slipped. Pop! Pop! Pop! A body fell to the ground. The thug began to run away.

Not again. Not this time.

“No!” Peter roared and launched himself forward like a rocket. Skull Face, who had just reached the door, turned around just in time to catch a fist in his chest. A fist that sent him flying out the half-opened door, ripping it off the hinges, and crashing into a decrepit brick wall a dozen meters away. A distant part of Peter calculated the force he just used, but he couldn’t care right now. He didn’t stop to check if the thug was still alive, not when every second counted to save a life.

Peter slid to his knees next to Mina, his eyes locking on the leaking holes in her chest. He didn’t know first aid. He couldn’t help her. “Mi- Ma’am, you’re going to be alright. I’m going to get you to a hospital,” he said as calmly as he could.

“It’s okay, kid. It’s just a flesh wound.” Clearly Mina was in shock and trying to put up a brave face in spite of her wounds. She was hardly twitching from the pain.

“Don’t worry, miss, I’ll call an ambulance for you. You’re going to be okay!” Peter wasn’t sure how much of his words were trying to reassure himself as well. 

“Who are you calling ‘ Miss ’?” she asked indignantly. She poked at her bleeding holes. “Gah! This isn’t exactly how I planned this to go. And don’t worry about the ambulance. I’ll be fine. Just need to catch my breath.” 

It was worse than Peter thought. She lost too much blood and now she’s delirious. “No! No no no no no. Please don’t die on me! I’ll make sure you get some help.”

To Peter’s dismay, Mina simply gave him the biggest eye roll he’s ever seen and said, “I’m not dying, you dork.” Then, as if she was never injured, she stood up and stretched. Peter could only stare in disbelief for a moment until his brain finally processed the sight.

“But you were shot!”

“Yeah, I know, and now I gotta dig those bullets out so they don’t affect my weight.” She put her hands on her hips and cocked them to the side. “I have a waistline to maintain.”

Peter blinked. “What?”

Mina held out a hand. “Get up already, will you? I can explain later.”

Peter robotically grasped her hand and started to pull himself up. However, halfway into the motion, there was a sound like a ripping seam and he fell back to the floor. Peter still gripped Mina’s hand, but that hand was no longer connected to her arm. Just past the now limp wrist, the limb was cleanly removed as if surgically cut and had several broken threads hanging off from the end.

But despite the loss of a limb, Mina huffed with annoyance. “Great. Now I have to stitch that back on too. Wanna gimme a hand with that?”

Peter stared at the limb in his hand, then looked at Mina, and then promptly fainted from shock.

***

“Sweet Death, the boss is gonna be so upset by this.” Mina (or Zombina as she was rudely reminded) pulled out her phone and tried to make a call. “This would suck if I weren’t ambidextrous.”

The call went through on the second ring. “It’s getting late, don’t you think?” came the sweet voice of a gentle giant.

Mina glanced around the room. “We ran into some trouble. I’m gonna need a hand in cleaning up here.”

An exasperated sigh. “Rachnera won’t like this. She’s going to use you as a practice dummy, you know?”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” Zombina’s lecherous grin twisted into a somber frown as she looked around the room. “Hell, even if it is, she’s the least of my concern right now. I think Tombstone is in town, and he knows I’m here.”

Chapter Text

Wake up. Crushing. Wake up. Constricting. WAKE UP! Squeezing.

Peter jolted awake despite his body acting like it was made of lead. It didn’t help that his bed was lumpy and the scaly sheets were bound tightly against him. Maybe he should start stretching after hard fights from now on? He needed to research what would work on a kid with superpowers.

And then it clicked. ‘Why do my sheets feel like snakeskin?’

It was then that he finally opened his eyes. The ceiling was not the familiar shade he always woke up to, nor was the sunlight supposed to shine in from that direction. “This isn’t my room,” he muttered. He tried to sit up and then became aware of several more details.

‘So that’s why I was feeling snakeskin.’ His thoughts were distant as he eyed the tire-sized snake limb that was coiled around him from feet to chest. It was the first thing he noticed, with the second being how they slowly constricted tighter and tighter with each movement he made. Peter couldn’t say he was in danger of being crushed, not when the thought of a snake this size could swallow him whole like a bite sized candy bar.

However, there was another detail that did not quite fit in with the snake in the room: The sensation of arms wrapped around him and breathing on his neck. ‘Okay, Peter,’ he thought, ‘There’s someone in the bed with you and the giant snake. Maybe it’s their pet who really wanted to cuddle? Snakes would seek out the nearest source of warmth. Except I’m the only one in the coils as far as I can tell.’ Peter took a deep breath to center himself. ‘Why am I here? What is my life? Is this going to be a normal thing for me from now on?’  

Ultimately, the existential crisis could wait until after his escape. Shoving the thoughts aside, Peter screwed up the courage to face his potential would-be captor or co-victim. It was… a girl?

Peter closed his eyes and opened them again. Yep. Still there. A ginger haired girl in a loose shirt cuddled up to him and sleeping as if there wasn’t a giant snake in the room about to have breakfast. ‘I bet it’s her pet. She’s gonna feed me to it. It’s always the nice ones, isn’t it?’ Peter comiserated. ‘Wait, maybe she’ll let me go if I ask nicely?’

“Psst! Hey! Pssst! Wake up!” Peter hissed out.

The girl grumbled and blinked her eyes open. When she locked her slitted eyes on Peter, she blushed fiercely and jerked away. As she did so, the coils around Peter tightened until he could barely move without much effort. “EEK! Who are you?! How did you get into my room?! Why are you in bed with me?!”

“I don’t… know!” Peter gasped out. “I just… woke up… here! I’m Peter Parker!”

The coils paused as the girl peered at him and then their surroundings. “Hold on… this isn’t my room.”

“Good to know,” Peter said wryly. “But there’s a bigger problem here.”

The girl tilted her head. “What’s that?” 

Was this girl oblivious? “Oh you know, the giant snake that’s about to crush and eat me! Can you help get this thing off me? It’s really heavy.” Somehow, despite his reasonable plea, the girl chose to take offense to him.

“Are you calling me fat?!” The girl jabbed a finger into his cheek and the coils tightened once more. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been dieting and exercising, thank you very much! So what if I had those extra potato chips last night? It was a cheat day!” Whatever words Peter had to retort were, almost literally, strangled to death as the girl rose up to tower over him. She went up and up and up and up.

‘Oh. That’s where the snake is.’  

He wasn’t paying any more attention to her current ranting on yoga as he tried to figure out where human girl ended and the snake tail began under that baggy shirt. As per his usual luck, the girl noticed where his attention laid and promptly freaked out. “H-Hey! Where are you looking, creep?!”

Peter shook his head. “No no no! I wasn’t trying to creep on you, I was just-” But she screeched and Peter’s world suddenly spun like a top. Next thing he knew, he faceplanted into the wall, stuck in place by his powers, and the door had slammed open and shut. “Great going, Peter. Way to make a winning first impression,” Peter muttered, rolling his eyes. He picked himself off the wall and hopped to the floor. He found his backpack and a change of clothes for him by the bed, along with a note to meet in the dining room for breakfast.

Breakfast. The one (hopefully) normal thing about this day so far. 

Peter still didn’t know where he was, but he wouldn’t figure it out just staying put. He walked out of the room into the hall and wandered around until he was standing at the top of a staircase in the foyer. The stairs, much like the halls, were wide enough for about six people to walk abreast. Which overall meant that this house, no mansion , had to be large enough to take up most of a small Manhattan block. And yet, the decorations were sparse and spread out enough to show that the place was lived in.

Motion caught Peter’s eye when he reached the bottom of the stairs. He looked to see a cyan colored blob ( ‘Is that slime?’ Peter thought) with a green-tipped antennae of sorts scoot across the floor like a gelatin Roomba. When it was a couple feet away, it stopped and bounced in place, its ‘antenna’ perking straight up like an exclamation point. It then tilted back as if looking up at him with two eye-like dots on its surface.

“Uhh, hi?” Peter waved a hand.

“!” The slime ‘waved’ back with its antenna.

Peter blinked. “Can… Can you understand me?”

It jiggled in a nod-like manner.

‘Just roll with it, Pete.’ Holding up the note, Peter asked, “Do you know where the dining room is?”

It wiggled and waved its antenna as if to say “Yup! Follow me!” before it zoomed off like an air hockey puck. Peter followed it down the halls until it raced headlong into a door and wriggled under the crack like water. Unable to follow that way, Peter chose to simply open the door instead.

“Well well, look who finally woke up.” A petite girl with tan skin and pale white hair grinned between bites of cereal. Her hair was longer than her body, wrapped around her chair, but the only article of clothing she seemed to be wearing was a shirt four sizes too big. Something about her voice seemed familiar to Peter, but he couldn’t place it.

“Doppel, be nice,” a kind, female voice chastised. Peter turned to look at the lady, only to find he had to crane his neck far back to meet her eyes. The frilly pink apron she wore could have been a curtain originally from how it draped over her massive form. She could have looked like the Hulk’s tanned cousin if it weren’t for the long, sharp horn growing out of her head. “He had a rough night last night. Here, eat up while it’s fresh.” She pushed a plate loaded with eggs and hashbrowns into his hands. 

The warmth of the food seeped through the plate while the comfortable scents trickled into Peter’s nose, awakening a deep hunger within. His stomach rumbled its demands and took control, shuffling him off to the table. In one moment, he took a bite and the next thing he knew the plate was polished off along with a cup of orange juice he vaguely recalled being handed from the blue blob. Peter looked up to meet the curious and concerned gazes of the tall woman, Doppel, and the blob.

“Wha- BUUURP! ” Peter winced and clapped a hand over his mouth.

Doppel cackled with delight, almost falling out of her chair. “I think he likes your cooking, Tio!”

The large woman, Tio, shot her companion a frown. “Must you put it like that, Doppel?”

“Sorry!” Peter apologized. He took a deep breath and the questions were let loose into the wild. “What’s going on? Where am I? Why was there a half-snake lady sleeping with me? How did I get here? Why are you so big?” Peter gasped as last night’s memory finally clicked in place. “Wait! Where’s Mina?! Is she okay? What happened to her? I saw her get shot and then I pulled her arm off by accident!”

Behind you. Safe.

A chitinous hand placed itself gently on Peter’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry too much. Zombina has walked away from worse injuries. Quite literally, in fact.” The hand and familiar voice came around the table along with a now audible click-click-click-click skitter of many legs crossing the floor. First came the woman and then came the not so itsty-bitsy spider.

It was something that could have come out of a horror movie. Like the snake-lady from before, her “upper half” resembled a woman from the hips up but below that was a spider the size of a small car. Her hips attached where the head of a spider would have been and a long white skull was stretched across her thorax. Except for her eyes, she could have looked perfectly human. The woman’s face had two jewel red pupilless eyes surrounded with six smaller ones in symmetrical pattern.

However, the most surprising thing about her was the connection that Peter felt across his Tingle. And from the look of slight surprise on her face, the spider woman sensed it too.

Friend. Kin. Ally. Safety.

“Hello Peter,” she said. “It’s nice to finally meet you face to face.”

The voice from the phone call felt like a lifetime ago. “Rachel?”

The corner of her lips twisted up. “A psuedonym, I’m afraid. One needs a ‘human’ name when conducting human business. Allow me to introduce myself.” She gestured to herself with a slight bow. “I am Rachnera Arachnera, and welcome to my humble home.” 

“Uh-huh. I am Peter Parker and I am so confused right now.”

Rachnera grinned. “Then allow me to enlighten you. After I’ve had my meal, of course.”

*****

“I see you met Miia this morning,” Rache- Rachnera said as she sipped her tea. “You’ll have to forgive her. Being part snake, she tends to seek out sources of warmth when she’s sleepy. You just happened to be in the room on the way to hers.” Her long legs were curled under the massive, raised leather Ottoman she lounged on with the casual yet deadly regality of a mob boss. If it weren’t for Peter’s senses picking up calm, reassuring vibes Rachnera exuded, he would have felt he was being lured into a figurative web.

She and Peter relocated to the parlor room after breakfast. The others had gone off to do other household tasks. Suu, the gelatin roomba (or blue slime as he was told) happily zipped away to wipe away any remaining dust in the mansion. The giantess (corrected to ogre), Tio, finished cooking and cleaning in the kitchen and went to work in the garden. Doppel gave a shark-like grin as she shapeshifted into ‘Gina’, complete with business suit, and sashayed out the door like a hunter on the prowl. 

Peter rubbed his head. “I didn’t give the best first impression of myself either,” he said. “I hope she doesn’t hold that against me.” His eyes flicked around from the room to Rachnera to the furniture and back again. His brain was little better. ‘Is it rude to stare only at two of her eyes? How rich is she really? How does her body not collapse on itself from the square-cube law? Does she spin webs or go ambush hunting? How much does she eat to make her webs?’

“I’ll have a talk with her afterwards after I finish with Zombina.” The self-satisfied smile on her face curled in a peculiar manner that Peter suddenly decided he was better off not knowing where Mi- Zombina was. “Now, while I wanted to ease you into this new life, it seems we both have more than a few little secrets to share, hmm?” She placed her tea cup on the side table and leaned forward on her… legs? Mandibles? “While I’m curious as to your abilities, let’s satisfy your curiosity first, shall we?”

“Where do I even start?” Peter let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Uncle Ben. How did you know him? You said he helped you before.”

“He did, but he wasn’t the only one.” Rachnera put a hand to her chin. “Hmm, tell me, how much do you know of your birth parents?”

Peter’s eyes widened “I… don’t know much. Uncle Ben told me they passed away in a car wreck when I was young. Dad was a pilot and Mom was a nurse.” 

“Knowing Benjamin, he was likely sworn to secrecy due to the classified nature of it, but I am not bound by such promises. Your parents were actually government agents during the Cold War. They worked to prevent another war from occurring through spying, smuggling, and sabotage.” Rachnera smiled. “In fact, I was one of their missions.”

“Really?” Peter shifted forward on his seat. 

“Not officially, but yes.” Rachnera leaned back as she waded into her memories. “At the time I was a prisoner of an enemy research facility. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say, I was not receiving the five star treatment.” She rubbed her arm absently. “Your parents broke in to investigate a ‘special weapons program’ but instead found me and the other prisoners. They took one look at us and didn’t even hesitate to break us out and reduce the facility to rubble. Your mother worked to heal our wounded while your father questioned us on any other facilities. 

“We were suspicious at first that they were going to simply take us to another cage on friendly lines, but they didn’t. Instead they asked where each of us lived and worked to smuggle all of us back home. One of us eavesdropped on him as he called in his report to his officers, but not a single word of our existence was mentioned. Our kind grew up believing that humans would either fear or exploit us. It was good to know that not all humans were our enemies.

“However, when it was my time to return home, there were a few complications and we had to flee back to the States instead. That was when I met your Uncle Ben. He helped acquire the paperwork I would need to immigrate as a ‘textile merchant’ refugee. Just like your father, there was no hesitation to help a monster like me.”

“You’re not a monster,” Peter blurted out.

Rachnera put on an amused, knowing look. “I hold no illusions as to what instinctual response I elicit from people. Would you really have stayed so calm upon seeing me if you didn’t have our little connection?”

Peter said nothing, finding the carving work in the furniture far more interesting at the moment. Eventually he mumbled out a small “...Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” Rachnera said. “As I was saying, both your father and your uncle did their best to help me settle into the States, providing me with any assistance I needed to operate my new business. Eventually, I became quite successful and tried to repay my debts but those two would not have it unless I shoved it into your mother’s hands. And then the rest was history.” She took another sip of her tea. 

“Whoa,” was all Peter could say. He couldn’t find any fault of Uncle Ben for maintaining discretion, not when such secrets were bigger than himself. If anything, his respect for Uncle Ben only grew. And the same for his parents despite how little he knew of them. To help without hesitation, regardless of appearance, race, or species. It was everything he should strive for.

“My turn. Tell me, how did you acquire these arachnid abilities?” Rachnera asked with burning curiosity. 

Peter explained the story as best he could. He was on a field trip to a research facility, a spider bit him on the hand, and the next thing he knew he wasn’t the scrawny little nerd anymore. Rachnera prodded him with questions about his powers and probed for little demonstrations. Though it had long since been his turn to ask questions, Peter felt a nice catharsis in being able to show off a bit to someone who could understand him. In fact, he was finally able to get a few answers of his own.

“I also have this weird extra sense that lets me know when danger is coming,” Peter said as he crawled across the ceiling using his hands. “I started to call it my ‘Peter Tingle’.”

“Excuse me? The ‘Peter Tingle’ ?” Rachnera said from a corner of the ceiling. She sounded both amused and mildly offended. “That is a horrid name. Call it your Spider Sense, if you must. It would be far more accurate than that moniker.”

“Spider Sense?” Peter repeated it a few times. “Alright that does sound a lot better. Do you know what it does?”

“Hardly a clue.” Rachnera stroked her chin. “But if it is a ‘danger sense’ as you say, then I suspect it compensates for the lack of six extra eyes. We can practice training in it with Zombina using paintball guns.” 

Peter froze halfway into reaching for his next handhold as his train of thought ran into a wall. “Training? For what? I’m just a high school student, not some crime fighting vigilante,” he said with a forced chuckle.

All eight of Rachnera’s eyes pierced through him. “I’m sorry, I must’ve mistaken you for the other teenage vigilante swinging around Manhattan stopping petty crimes and catching vehicles with artificial webbing.” If sarcasm were a ball, Rachnera just beaned Peter with a bright red dodgeball.

“Oh… you heard about that.” Peter idly wondered if having four times as many eyes made the ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ look four times as powerful. It sure felt like it. 

“Zombina is far more perceptive than she looks, and quite proficient at feigning sleep. She thought you were becoming a delinquent until Doppel started following you.” While Peter was smacking his forehead, Rachnera walked up the wall and along the ceiling until she was ‘towering’ over him. Her expression turned to seriousness as she folded her arms across her chest. “If you’re anything like your Uncle Ben, I think I know why you’re doing this, and the evidence only corroborates it. However, I’d still like to hear it from you.”

Peter flipped around until he was sitting on the ceiling, turning the world upside down. He sighed and said, “Before Uncle Ben died…I was just me. Just a twiggy kid who read books and built computers out of spare parts for cash. And then I got these powers. At first I thought I could finally play football, but because I didn’t then I shouldn’t now. It was too different. People would notice.”

“And you can’t exactly tell anyone about this, could you?”

“Not even Uncle Ben knew.” Peter’s chest grew tight as he began to remember that night once more. “And that’s what got him killed. I tried to…” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I saw a flyer for a wrestling match. Quick money. Something to help save on finances. I was cheated out of my winnings and when a man with a gun came to rob the place, I let him go. After that, I found Uncle Ben laying on the sidewalk with a bullet in his chest and the car missing.”

Peter choked back a sob. “Before I went to that event, Uncle Ben told me: ‘with great power comes great responsibility’. I didn’t understand it at the time, but now… When I can do what I do, and then the bad things happen? They happen because of me.”

“Oh, Peter.” Rachnera leaned ‘down’ and pulled Peter in for a hug. It was soft and warm for someone covered in chitin. Her clawed fingers were as gentle as a spider’s touch as she combed them through his hair. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. Don’t blame yourself for that. I’m sorry it took such a harsh lesson to learn, but I’m sure your uncle would be proud of you for doing the right thing.”

She held him like that for several minutes in mourning silence. It was only thanks to Peter’s sense of gravity that he noticed her carry him down from the ceiling. Rachnera set Peter back down in his chair before settling back into her own. 

“You’ve taken on a big responsibility, Peter,” Rachnera said. “Vigilante work on top of being a model genius student? It can’t be easy.”

Peter shrugged. “I’m making it work. Homework isn’t too hard.” After all that talking, he didn’t get the sense that she wouldn’t support his endeavor.

“So you say, but you’re among friends. You don’t have to shoulder this burden alone. I’m serious when I said I would have Zombina help you with your senses.”

“You don’t have to-” Peter waved his hands dismissively. He still felt like an extra burden on a home with many mouths to feed. 

However, Rachnera was quick to shut him down. “ Yes, I do , Peter. Powers or not, you’ve already stepped into our world, the world of Liminals. We have been living in humanity’s shadow for over a millennia now, and not everyone would welcome a human’s presence. If you’re to be living here, you’ll need to be trained in our methods, manners, and bestiary knowledge. Sooner or later, you’ll find something in our shadows that might take you for a chew toy if you aren’t prepared to handle it. Do you understand?”

“Does this training include how to say ‘Sorry I called you fat, but you were crushing me’ to half-snake girls?” Peter joked.

Rachnera stared at him.

“Uh, I mean, yes, ma’am.”

Rachnera nodded. “Good. And yes, that will be included. After we introduce you to all the other girls in the house.”

“ Other girls? ” Peter asked after he fully processed her words. ‘A teenage boy who lived with his uncle suddenly moving into a mansion full of older women,’ he thought. A mix of hysteria and dread filled him as his body twitched with echoes of the crushing sensation from the morning.  ‘Sure. What could possibly go wrong?’