Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Red liquid dripped down the bricks of the wall before him. He glared at it like it was the source of every problem he’d ever had in his life. As if it were the thing that decided to bash his forehead in, instead of the tool that was used to do it. The more he glared the more he felt. His breath grew heavier and more ragged. He stood slowly, pain searing through him from the wound in his gut. He grit his teeth so hard that the cracks in them deepened. The pain led to an anger that drove him forward, crossing the alley and leaning against the wall in front of him. He stood with his face inches from the mark of his own blood, the smell of iron and garbage panging in his nostrils, and he couldn’t hold it in anymore. The people who had done this were long gone, and he wasn’t about to take it out on a random prick on the street, so the tool had to suffice.

He slammed his fists repeatedly into the wall with all his strength. He felt his bones crack in some places and shatter in others. When the pain became too great he began slamming his foot into the wall. He saw the blood around him, some from others but most from himself. He knew he was dying, and that fact mixed with the alcohol in his system made him apathetic to any further damage his body would take. He wanted to let out every ounce of anger he had left in him. Hell, maybe he was lying to himself, desperately hoping someone might hear the noise and call for help. Who was he kidding? No one would care. The thought pissed him off even more.

He stumbled and fell backwards, pain shooting up his leg as his back hit the asphalt. He looked up at the black, starless sky. He brought his shaking hand up to his face to inspect the damage. It was a bloody mess, skin ripped and fingers jutting out in odd directions. He dropped it to his side as his eyes closed. He laid there, the sounds of the city fading as the blood pounded in his ears. He was exhausted, cold and in pain, bleeding out in a dirty alley. The only thing that kept him awake was his rage.

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She yawned as she walked down the street. Most of her wanted to get home after the grueling day she had at work, but another part of her mind—the more responsible side—said she should stay out. She sighed, and rubbed her eyes, pulling her lab coat tighter around her due to the cold Autumn air. She mused to herself that her decision needed to wait until after she’d eaten.

She passed by a pizza shop, then a coffee shop, then a hot dog stand, but stopped at none of them. She sighed and rubbed her eyes again. She wanted wings, and she wanted them from a place across town. She debated putting on her suit and swinging there, but she knew herself well enough to know she’d just end up looking for problems to solve instead of eating.

She turned on her heel and began to walk, stopping before the metal stand she had recently passed. She reached in her pocket and pulled out her wallet, taking out a couple bucks. She made a quick exchange with the vendor for a hotdog, but after scarfing down half of it before even stepping away she bought a second. She gives a muffled word of thanks after she pays and begins to walk away, starting towards her home again.

She eats the second hotdog more slowly, the food giving her a slight burst of energy, but not enough to go on patrol. She resigns herself to staying in and sleeping tonight, reconciling by planning instead to go out tomorrow.

The second her decision is made she hears sirens in the distance. She sighs and continues walking. She shoves her headphones in her ears and takes out her phone, opening a program that allows her to hear police radio waves, just to make sure it’s not something important. After a few moments she hears what’s happening.

“We have an 11-60, requesting all units. I repeat, 11-60, requesting all units.”

She froze for a split second before immediately turning into an alley. 11-60 is code for an attack. She scaled the building with a sigh, stripping off her outer layer of clothing to reveal her suit, before launching into the air. As she swung towards the sirens she regretted not stopping for the coffee instead.

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He was proud of himself. He got this promotion and earned it all on his own. He had no connections before he started this job, instead needing to forge them with the men and women around him to get where he was today.

Sure, being night security at the L.I.F.E. Foundation wasn’t the most noteworthy position. But it paid better than the day shift which paid well in its own right, and one step up means that there could be more. There would be more. He was confident of that.

He smiled at his superior. They’d be showing him what his new duties were for his first night, so he made sure to make a good impression.

“Washington? You’re right on time. Come on in.” the woman said, holding open the door.

“Yes, that’s me!” he said before following her into the small building.

“So the job is pretty simple. You press here to open the gates up and here to close them,” she said, gesturing to the control panel. “It’s the night shift so the most traffic you're gonna get is probably someone forgetting something inside, so don’t worry too much.”

“That’s all I gotta know?” he asked, enthused at the idea of such an easy job.

“Pretty much,” his boss said nonchalantly. “Only other things are, the bathroom is through that door, and if something bad is going on, like someone trying to break in or something else, press that button.” She explained, gesturing to each thing as she spoke.

“Understood. Heard everything loud and clear!”

His boss cracks a smile at him.

“Your enthusiasm is infectious, Washington,” she said, still smirking. “I’m gonna head out of here before the effect becomes permanent.”

“You have a good night, boss!” he called out as she left towards the parking lot.

He sat down in the office chair and got comfortable. He relaxed into a happy daze as he listened to the sounds of night. He had a nice view of the city from here, the urban view making an interesting contrast with the nature that surrounded the L.I.F.E. Foundation’s main research facility.

He stood up and took a few pictures on his phone before sitting back down. He smiled, joy blooming in his chest as he looked through each picture. Maybe he’d paint the view tomorrow. He liked that idea. He’d take a few more shots without the window in the way.

As he looked up from his phone he flinched back in surprise. A yellow mucusy creature the size of a cat stretched across the window. It was about as large as his chest in length but it bulged in the middle. Was it a slug? No slug could be that big.

He lifted his phone to take a photo of it. He snapped a few as it seemed to inch its way down the window. He froze as it reached the small holes in the window and instead of sliding past, seemed to shrink itself and slide into the opening.

He wasn’t sure if he flinched or had tried to start running for the exit or bathroom, but whatever movement he made caused the creature to lash out. It stuck to his chest with a thin tendril before the rest of its form followed, slamming its full weight into him. The force knocked him into the wall behind him, causing him to hit his head and black out.

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It moved quickly and out of sight. Since its release it’s been looking, searching. It came across hundreds of meals, but when it got close enough to inspect them it found said meal to be wrought with poison. It needed to find something better and it needed to find something soon. It crawled out into the open, feeling the cold air on its amorphous form. It stopped for a moment and finally felt what it was searching for.

A feast.

Chapter Text

He felt something next to him. Maybe it was a person waiting for him to die before taking his wallet, maybe an animal waiting for him to bleed out so it could eat. He let out a pained breath as whatever it was made contact with his hand and started squeezing. It felt like his fingers were breaking again, so he grit his teeth. The pressure on his hand started to extend up his arm, to his shoulder, to his chest, slowly covering his whole body. Pain surged through every injury he had gained that night. His eyes shot open and he screamed.

All he saw was red.

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She landed with a roll on the roof. She took quick steps up to the edge of the building to get a view of the street below. There was a barricade of police cars surrounding an alley, flashing lights on but no noise emitted from them. She squinted to get a better look as said light caused the shadows to move in strange ways.

The police that had come with the car were nowhere to be found. In fact, the street seemed to be completely empty, the only people around seemed to be ones peeking out of their windows.

She leaped from the roof to get a closer look. There were deep gashes in the stone of the brick wall and the sidewalk. With the spacing between them she could tell that whatever made them had claws, rather than a single blade. Was there some sort of mutant? She smelt blood on the wind. She grit her teeth behind her mask. Someone had gotten hurt. She could only hope they were still alive.

She got closer to the alleyway and after taking a few steps inside was able to make out a few figures scattered about. Even though she knew whatever this was had claws the bodies seemed to be in one piece. The one she saw closest to her was a police officer, and she sighed in relief when they took in a breath. They were alive. Getting a better view of the others lying about showed her the same. All seemed alive, and while some seemed to be more hurt than others no injuries seemed fatal.

A blur of gray flew out of the darkness before her. Her spider sense triggered, warning her to take a step to the side. She heard a metal crash and shattered the glass windows of one of the police cars behind her. The speed at which the object flew proved to her that this wasn’t human if there was any doubt before. At least not fully. She was really regretting not getting that coffee.

She backed out of the alley and further into the light. She figured it would be best to let this thing approach her rather than going in and swinging blindly, especially now that it knows she’s there.

“Can you come out already? I wasn’t counting on this being in my schedule and I’d really like to get some sleep tonight,” she taunted towards the alley after a few moments of silence, hoping to lure whatever it was away from the unconscious people.

She watched as a figure moved forward slowly out of the darkness. A head with wet, red and black sheening skin was the first thing to come into view. Sharp, jagged teeth snarled in her direction, but there were no eyes to show where its attention lied. Instead, long horns protruded from where the eyes should be extending to either side of its head. In fact as it came further into the open the more it’s hulking form seemed as if it were made out of some kind of liquid, maybe blood, with the black goo seeming more congealed.

“That was pretty dumb of you. What if there was a trap or something waiting for you out here?” she said coyly, both out of curiosity and a dim hope that this thing would be willing to talk this out.

Its ability to understand seemed to be confirmed as it tilted its head. Unfortunately, her wording seemed to increase its anger as its snarl turned into an animalistic growl.

Oh well, at least she’d gotten it out of the alley.

She shot a web behind her before swinging the metal bin it had thrown back towards the creature. It lifted its claw and caught it, barely flinching, before tearing it in half. She’d sure if this thing had eye’s it would be glaring at her.

It charged and she leaped back, landing briefly on the police car before launching herself into the air. She began to swing away and spun to make sure it was following. What she saw was a car flying through the air. She twisted, letting the car fly past her before shooting two webs, using momentum and elasticity to launch the car back at the creature. She perched herself on a building wall as the creature charged at the vehicle. Its claws cut clean through the car and for a moment it seemed to make it out the other side—unfortunately for her—unscathed.

A loud boom echoed through the streets as the car exploded. Fire seemed to envelop the creature before the shockwave pushed it away. She heard two screams—one human and one not—come from the creature. She used this opportunity to take the fight elsewhere, swinging and kicking the creature onto a nearby building. While they were both still in the air she changed her trajectory to smash the creature down onto the roof under her. She jumped to the side, readying herself for the creature's next move.

The fire seemed to have done more damage to it then she had realized. She noticed gooey tendrils sticking to the ground weakly trying to pull their way into the main form as its two voices groaned in pain as it feebly shifted into a sitting position. Large bubbles seemed to be forming from the heat on its liquid-like form and some chunks had been missing, revealing human skin underneath.

She stood defensively as the creature began to stand. Its form seemed to begin to melt as it weakly took a step forward, its clawed foot making a sloshing sound, bending when it hit the ground where it would have previously pierced the stone. It stumbled, falling to its knees, form continuing to liquify. Its horn-like protrusions began to melt away, the amorphous blob seeming to gather on the creature’s abdomen.

Was this some sort of trick? Coming off as weakened to get her guard down?

As it continued to reveal more and more of the human underneath the more the breath caught in her throat. The goo separated to reveal a man with brown hair and eyes, slightly tanned skin which were all too familiar to her. Maybe it was the darkness and the flashing lights playing tricks on her, but he looked too familiar for her not to ask.

“Peter?” she said with shock and hope.

The man looked at her in confusion before collapsing to the ground, unconscious. She cautiously approached before rolling the man onto his back. She took a better look at him. He was probably around her age, but the more she looked the more unlikely it seemed to be her old friend, noting key differences in his facial structure. She felt conflicted. Maybe the fact that they looked like Peter was messing with her head but she wondered if this person had control over themself when whatever that creature was had taken over. Should she hand him over to the cops if none of this was his fault? If he was a real danger then maybe it would be better if she did—it would definitely be easier if she did—but that responsible part of her brain told her she should try to help if she could. She needed more information to make her decision, but as she heard more sirens begin to approach she made a split one she hoped she wouldn’t regret.

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He woke up with a start. He felt his head give a familiar pang as his hand went to his sore jaw. His chest hurt and the fluorescent lighting he found himself under gave no help to what he assumed was his hangover. His blurry vision came into focus and he found himself staring at a metal floor. He looked around to find himself in some sort of cell, three metal walls and one seemingly made from glass. He shot to his feet and looked around. Finding nothing to break the glass with, he punched it, his hand bounced back a bit on the impact, the glass more flexible and harder than he had anticipated. He shook his hand lightly in pain.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I can’t even make a dent in that material, so I doubt you can.”

His brow furrowed in annoyance as eyes scanning the darkness outside the glass. He saw the vague outline of a figure in the shadows.

“Who are you and what do you want?” he growled out.

“Want to play a game?” the feminine voice asked, deeper than was natural, sounding like it was trying to be funny.

“No, I want you to let me the hell out of here!”

“Jeez, have you never seen Saw?”

“No, I’ve never seen Saw,” he said, a familiar rage built in his chest before he yelled. “Now, what do you want!”

His gaze shifted from the figure to focus on his reflection as he noticed something change. His eyes reflected red back at him. Confusion and fear washed over him as he took a step back, before a pain like he’d never felt wracked his skull. It felt like something was trying to crawl out of the back of his head while a pressure built behind his eyes. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All he could do was feel.

As fast as the pain was there it was gone, but his senses came back slowly. He saw shapes of pink, white, and black moving in front of him as he pushed himself to his knees.

‘When did I fall?’ he thought to himself. His eyes focused on the masked, hooded figure in a skintight suit and blue sneakers, that was now in the light pacing back and forth.

“Are you The Spider-Woman?” his voice came out hoarsely.

“Oh thank god! You’re alive!” she said, audibly relieved. “Well, I prefer The Ghost-Spider, but yeah, that’s me.”

“Where am I? What happened?” he said weakly, voice wavering as he felt like he was going to puke. “Why am I here?”

“Can't tell you, was hoping you could tell me, and because I need to make sure you’re not dangerous,” she counted off her fingers as she listed the answers.

“Dangerous how?” he asked, confused.

“Dangerous like you turning into the Jersey Devil type dangerous,” she said, leaning her shoulder against the glass.

“Jersey Devil? Like New Jersey?” he was even more confused now.

“…You don’t get out much do you?” she said after a pause, swaying on the balls of her feet.

Annoyance shot through him. What was all this about? He felt like he wanted to smash his head into the floor, but he took a deep breath and grit his teeth. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms before running his hands down his face.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” he almost growled out.

“Oh, yeah sure,” she said, thinking for a second before speaking. “Well, I was walking home and I was hungry but I couldn’t find anything I wanted to eat, and what I wanted to eat was across town so instead of going there I went to a hotdog stand—”

“Please get to the point!” he cut her off, biting his tongue and fighting the urge to roll his eyes. This was a superhero?

“Alright, alright,” she said, rubbing the back of her head nonchalantly. “Uh, well, there was a police call that I responded to. When I got there there was a bunch of cops and biker looking dudes knocked out and a bunch of blood in the alley way that seemed to be where they were called to. And, well, you were there but you were in a different form of this red and black goo monster? Then we fought and I won, then I brought you here.”

As she spoke her words came out faster and faster and his head spun. His hand went to his stomach to find a wound there. It was mostly healed, but his hand still came away bloody. He remembered pissing off some asshole in a bar who was being a creep to some girl who wanted to be left alone. He remembered being stabbed with a bottle that had just been smashed against his face. He remembers bleeding out in the alleyway and something grabbing his arm. He remembers going back into the bar in a haze, dragging the guys who kicked his ass back outside and beating them. He remembers slamming his fists into figures as they ran towards him. He rubbed his eyes again, and sighed.

“I remember,” he admitted quietly. “The blood in the alley was mine. When it was all happening… I thought I was hallucinating while I bled out… and when I woke up… I thought it was a dream.”

He looked up when she didn't respond. He couldn’t read her expression as she wore a mask but her posture showed her to be thinking, contemplating. She nodded to herself and turned fully towards him.

“Even when you thought you were hallucinating, you didn’t kill anyone,” she stated more than asked. “Do you think you can control it?”

“Control what exactly?” he asked, he knew there was something, but he didn’t know what it was.

“The goo thing,” she said, waving her hand like he should understand. “The thing that turns your eyes red and the thing that kept you from bleeding out? Can you keep the red blob from killing people?”

“Riot,” he said, almost instinctively, before backtracking. “I don’t know why I know that but it’s called Riot. And yes, I think I can keep it from killing people.”

“Good,” she said, as she walked over to a slit in the glass where food would presumably be passed through. She took something and slid it through the opening before she continued, saying. “Now put that on, I’ll take you home or wherever you want that’s not too far I guess.”

He picked up the fabric off the floor to find it was a unicorn sleeping mask. He shot The Ghost-Spider an annoyed, unimpressed look, before seeing her shrug. He slipped the mask on begrudgingly.

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She swung back in the direction of the alleyway, landing on a rooftop a few blocks away. She stood up tall before dropping the man she held under her arm onto his feet. He seemed like he was gonna fall over, probably sick from a combination of the swinging motion and the fact that he was blindfolded. She almost laughed as he swayed on his feet.

“Can I take off the blindfold now?” he said, almost pleading but with the ever present annoyance in his voice.

“Well, yeah,” she said sarcastically. “We stopped moving.”

He grabbed the unicorn horn and lifted the face mask up with a grimace. All in all she was impressed with his lack of a reaction to the means of travel. A lot of people get scared when she swings with them, even when she’s saving them. Maybe it was the fact he couldn’t see? She might need to start bringing a blindfold with her everywhere.

“Thanks,” he said, grimace still on his face. He offered the mask to her and she took it.

“Well, it’s all in the day’s work,” she said, turning on her heel. “See you around maybe.”

“Wait, what?” she heard him say, surprise mixing with annoyance to sound almost entitled. “You’re leaving?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “I got stuff to do. If you can control whatever that is then that’s on you. Don’t use it for bad or I’ll need to put you in jail though.”

“Wait,” he said, more desperate with each word as she had turned to walk away again. “Please. I have no idea what this is, my blood was all over a crime scene, and I have no idea what to do! If there’s any idea you have please, help me—GAH!”

She had made it to the ledge of the roof before his pained cry caused her to turn. She saw a familiar sight. His mouth was open and his eyes were rolled back, the black and red goo pooling around the white organs, seemingly leaking out of his face. She began to walk back towards him as his body stiffened and he fell backwards. What she had seen before and thought was a ploy to escape after he had woken was definitely not that.

A car horn blared in the street below and she heard the man gasp on the ground, the goo receding back into his body. She offered a hand to him as he caught his breath and he took it. She pulled him up and he looked at her, weakened and dazed.

“What happened?” he said, exhaustion evident in his voice, making her realize how tired she was herself.

“I’m not sure,” she said, rubbing her hand over her masked eye. “But we’ll figure it out. I’ll help you so don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” he said, nodding gratefully.

She hopped onto an air conditioning unit and sat down, putting her hand on her chin in thought. She could really only think of one place that could help them in this situation, but she’d need access to her other life for that.

“What’s your name?” she said with a yawn. “Or I could just call you ‘snippy’ if you want.”

“My name is Ace,” he said, looking like he wanted to roll his eyes. “Ace Romero.”

“You were named after a pilot?” she said, unable to help herself.

“No, I was named after my grandfather,” he said seriously. “Is there a pilot named Ace Romero?”

“No,” she sighed, this guy really didn’t get her. “Ace like an ace pilot. There is a boxer or something with your name I think though.”

“Why would I be named after either of those things?”

She shrugged and he looked at her like he was reconsidering his options for help. She smiled, not that he could see it, holding in a laugh.

“Look, tomorrow at ten go to the Oscorp Building. Someone will meet you there and help you figure out what this is,” she walked back towards the ledge before turning back to face him and saying. “All good?”

“Yeah. Uhh, thanks, The Ghost-Spider.”

“Eh, call me ‘Ghost’ or ‘Spidey’,” she said, giving a sarcastic salute before leaning back, dropping off the building and swinging into the night.

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He woke up with a headache, rubbing his forehead and pushing himself to his knees. He looked around, confused. He was still at work. Why was he on the floor? Had he fallen asleep on the job?

He looked over to the digital clock on his desk to find that it was a bit after four in the morning. Judging by when his shift started he must’ve been out for a while. He was glad that no one had found him like that—his job might be on the line if they had—but he still started to worry a bit. He had never just collapsed like that before.

He pulled himself to his feet and walked into the bathroom, turning on the sink and splashing some water onto his face in an attempt to calm his frayed nerves.

‘Everything is gonna be fine,’ he thought to himself, taking deep breaths. Letting the worry and fear recede. He looked at the mirror and smiled. He may have been out for a few hours but he could use that time to figure out what happened.

He walked out of the bathroom and sat down, his optimism making him feel better. His headache had even seemed to let up a bit as he started typing on the computer to pull up the security camera footage. He went back a few hours to see what was happening, clicking play and splitting his attention between the screen and the window before him.

After an hour something strange caught his eye. He stopped the recording to see a sludge-like form moving towards the booth he currently sat in. It caused his mind to shed light on a memory he thought had been a dream, the giant slug creature on the window—the one that had seemed to latch onto him—this was a picture of that. Making that connection a word came to his mind.

“Blithe,” he mumbled to himself. “You're called Blithe.”

As he leaned in to take a closer look at the paused image he heard a knock on the booth's door. Out of reflex he closed the tab before spinning on his chair to face the door as the person for the morning shift came in. His eyes darted to the red numbers on the digital clock to find it read six. Had it really been two hours already?

He felt himself sigh in relief. This whole thing was freaking him out and he was grateful for the distraction that is human interaction.

“Come on in!” he said, smiling at his replacement as he opened the door.

“Sorry if I woke ya,” the older man said, stepping into the booth. “Honestly, I’m surprised to see you awake even after I walked in. Most people on the night shift get bored out their minds.”

“Well, I couldn’t do that on my first day,” he said with a smile.

“Oh! It’s yer first day?” the older man said, sitting down in the chair that he had left open, before gesturing to the coffee he held. “I wish I’d known. I’d’ve brought you one.”

“That’d’ve been nice,” he said, smile widening, before jokingly saying. “Maybe you can make it up to me tomorrow?”

“Hell no, tomorrow won’t be your first day!” the older man responded jokingly back. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Scott,” he said, reaching out his hand. “Scott Washington.”

“Well, Scott, it’s nice to meet ya,” the older man said, shaking his hand. “I’m Henry.”

“Nice to meet you too, Henry”

“If ya don’t mind me askin,” the older man said after taking a sip from his coffee, “Where did ya buy those contacts yer wearin? My daughter’s been looking for good ones for Halloween and those look very real.”

“I’m not wearing contacts,” Scott said confused. “This is my natural eye color.”

“Young man,” Henry said, giving him an odd look. “Yellow ain’t a natural eye color.”

“I think you need to get your eyes checked,” Scott said smiling, shaking his head. “Must be the morning light, my eyes are brown.”

“My mistake then,” he heard Henry mutter as he opened the door to leave.

“Have a nice shift, Henry,” Scott said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Henry said, seemingly shaking off his confusion. “See you tomorrow, Scott.”

Chapter Text

Ace felt out of place sitting on the bench in front of this skyscraper. He nursed his cup of coffee and watched people walking around to their workplaces with their suits and lab coats, carrying around their briefcases. He couldn’t help but compare their clothes to the ratty brown leather jacket he was wearing. Not only that but seeing all these people going to work reminded him that he had to call out of his job to be here and now he’d probably be late on rent again, if he even had a job anymore. He cursed himself for agreeing so eagerly. Suffice to say he was in a bad mood.

He pulled out his phone and clicked the spacebar on the keypad a few times—the home button had been broken for a while and this is the way he’d found to get it to open—and the screen lit up to reveal the time. His phone read 10:19 and he frowned, hoping that The Ghost-Spider didn’t mean ten at night. He sighed, frustrated, and put his phone back in his pocket.

“Ace Romero?” he heard a voice next to him call.

He turned to the voice to see a woman around his age with short blonde hair and blue eyes covered by glasses. She was wearing a lab coat and it almost made him not recognize her—she had caught his eye as she ran hurriedly towards the Oscorp building around five minutes earlier. He stood up and fully faced the woman.

“You’re late,” he said, knowing he probably shouldn’t ridicule someone who was supposed to be helping him, but his irritation got the better of him.

“Yeah, well, deal with it,” the woman said, giving him an unimpressed look. “I’m doing you a favor here, snippy. Now follow me.”

She started walking towards the skyscraper and he begrudgingly followed. He didn’t usually care about what others thought of him, but something about this place reminded him of the private school he went to when he was really young. There, it had all been about appearance, money and status. He hoped that being escorted would dissuade people from making comments about him. He didn’t know what he might do if they did, especially if they said it to his face.

He followed the woman through the glass doors to see a pristine building. Spotless, white tiled floors reflecting fluorescent lights of the lobby made the place seem stuffy to him. He looked down at his mud caked work boots and cursed himself. He shouldn’t be here. The woman looked back at him with a stern look.

“Stick with me and don’t fight with anyone,” she said quietly as they waited in line to get past security.

“Fine,” he huffed out. He didn’t know what they were even gonna be doing but he just wanted to be done with it.

The line moved decently quickly and before he knew it they were up. He saw the woman empty her pockets into a container before walking through a metal detector. When it didn’t go off she retrieved her stuff. Since he was up he did the same. He placed his phone, wallet and keys into the bin and walked through the metal detector, only for it to go off. He looked at the security guard who looked at him.

“You need to take your belt off,” the man said, grinning as if he had just said something funny.

“Right, sorry,” he grumbled, taking off his belt and handing it to the man looking through his belongings. He stood there and waited until the security guard spoke up again.

“You gotta go back through the metal detector now,” grin still on his face.

He grit his teeth. It felt like this guy was using him to put on a show for everyone.

“Fine,” he forced out, walking back through the metal detector, only for it to blare again. Ace flinched at the noise. What else did he have on him?

“Stop messing with him, man,” the other security guard—who had finished going through his stuff—laughed out, before addressing him with a smile. “Sorry, pal. Ken does that to everyone who’s late, and since you were with Gwen there that’s what happens.”

“Right,” Ace said, clenching and unclenching his fist before grabbing his stuff. He needed to not cause a scene no matter how much he wanted to throttle this Ken guy before finding whoever was giggling on the line and doing the same to them. “Maybe next time if you have a problem with someone, keep it with them.”

“Hey bud, it was just a joke, lighten up!” Ken said, his tone making Ace want to slap him.

“Why don’t you-”

“Ace, we need to go. We’re already late,” the woman—who he now knew was named Gwen—said.

“Right,” he said, giving one last glare to the security guards who seemed to almost flinch back. “Coming.”

She led him through the lobby to an elevator. They entered and as he leaned against the wall he saw Gwen select a floor before holding the close door button even though people were seemingly rushing to get in. The elevator started moving with just the two of them inside.

“Your eyes are red,” she said matter of factly, leaning her back against the wall next to him. He looked at the metal door to see in the reflection that she was right.

“You don’t seem bothered by it,” he said, surprised at her reaction to it more than anything. “why?”

“I’m more in the loop than you think,” she said, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm before looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, good, you figured out how to turn it off.”

“No, I didn’t,” he assumed that meant his eyes were brown again. “I don’t even know why they turned red in the first place.”

“Well, I have some theories,” she said, looking back towards the door as the elevator began to stop on a floor that wasn’t the one they were getting off at. “but hopefully we can figure it out for certain.”

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Gwen typed on her computer trying her best to ignore the fifth bored sigh in just as many minutes that Ace seemed to have the incapability of stifling. To be fair to him it had been two hours and they had done nothing pertaining to the reason he was here, but, well, she had stuff she needed to get done first. She was only grateful that his habit of staring at anyone and everyone who got too close by had stopped. While she hoped they could find all the answers they needed today, it was more than likely that he’d need to come back. If he made her coworkers uncomfortable that would be harder. She sent her email with a sigh of her own, before her eyebrow twitched as it was echoed from the man sitting beside her desk.

“Okay, well, with that email I’m free,” she said curtly, looking towards Ace for the first time since she gave him directions to find the coffee machine—which to his credit, he did bring her a cup back when he went.

“Finally,” he said, more out of relief than annoyance for once. “So what do we do?”

“Well,” she said, tucking her laptop under her arm and standing. “Now we do some tests.”

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Ace felt like he was at the doctor's office as Gwen had him go through all the basics that are done during a medical visit. She checked his height, weight, reflexes and blood pressure. Each thing she tested—besides his height, he was still 5’ 11’’—seemed to be much higher than what they should be. Apparently, since last night he should have died of several heart attacks and had gained forty pounds that he could barely feel. Well that wasn’t true, he had woken up feeling stronger than he went to bed, but the massive increase in weight didn’t seem realistic.

He voiced that thought but according to Gwen, he had thrown a car, so maybe it was more reasonable than he thought.

“Ok,” Gwen Stacy—he’d found out her last name—mumbled more to herself, before fully addressing him. “Last thing for now is gonna be a blood test. Then lunch”

He felt himself frown. While he wasn’t scared of them he never liked blood tests and needles. In hindsight he should’ve figured one would be coming.

“If you’re scared just close your eyes,” Gwen said, obviously in reference to the change of expression. “I’ve been told I’m good at administering these.”

“I’m not scared,” he said flatly, her tone not making him feel defensive at the accusation. “And I know myself enough to know I’m just gonna stare at it.”

She gave him a weird ‘trying to be sympathetic’ half smile before rummaging through her pocket and pulling out a familiar sleeping mask.

“Put it on,” she said, handing the unicorn designed cloth to him. “I’ll tell you when it’s done.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking between her and the mask. Was this the same mask as last night? Or was this just a coincidence? If it wasn’t one he would be surprised. This woman had a vastly different personality than The Ghost-Spider.

He ignored the thought, intent on figuring it out later, before slipping the mask onto his face and pulling up his sleeve. He tried his best not to squirm in his seat.

“Done,” he heard her say after what felt like an hour. He lifted the mask and looked down at his arm before moving it. She was right. He hadn’t felt anything.

“You are good at that,” he said, impressed, handing the mask back over to her.

“Hmm,” she hummed in agreement. “Thanks.”

“You said something about lunch now?” he said after an awkward pause.

“Yeah. There’s a sandwich place a few blocks from here,” she said, pulling out her wallet and handing him a twenty. “You go pick up something and come back. Your blood work should be fully analyzed by then.”

“Ok,” he said. “Will Ken cause me problems when I come back in?”

“Nah,” she mumbled, already turning to the vials to get her work started. “You’ll be fine.”

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Scott felt something draw him into the sandwich shop on his walk. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but this store wasn’t too far from his apartment and he’d never been inside, so maybe taking a look at the menu might give him a reason to visit in the future. There was a small line, but he stood to the side of it next to a man about his height with light tan skin and brown hair, who also seemed to be reading the menu. The man looked like he wanted to be left alone, and as social as he was he usually respected such vibes, but there was something about the stranger that made him curious.

“What are you thinking of getting?” Scott said, leaning over slightly.

“Huh?” the man said, furrowing his brow and looking at him.

“What are you thinking of getting?” Scott repeated, smiling kindly at the stranger.

“I’m not sure. Everything’s so expensive,” the man grumbled, looking back at the menu. “And I don’t know the difference between ‘vegan’ and ‘vegetarian’.”

He looked up at the menu to see a majority of the menu to be labeled as such. The man seemed to be having a hard time so he decided he would help.

“Vegan means no animal products while vegetarian can have stuff like eggs, cheese, and honey,” he said, attempting to be helpful.

“Right, thanks,” the man said, even though his eyebrows remained furrowed. “Is that a thing girls like or something?”

“Depends on the girl,” he replied honestly. “Why do you ask?”

“An… acquaintance sent me here,” he said after a pause. “But she didn’t tell me what to get.”

“Well if you want to be safe, vegan is the way to go,” Scott supplied sagely. “If she doesn’t eat something there’s less that could be in the dish.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” the man said, eyebrows unfurrowing. “Thanks.”

With that, the man stepped on line and he followed. After a few minutes the man ordered two sandwiches, grumbling when it was more than he expected. He watched as the man reached for his wallet and went through the bills before stopping, closing it before looking back at the lady behind the register.

“Ehh, take off the second sandwich,” he heard the man say annoyed. “I don’t have the money.”

“No, leave it on,” he said from behind, looking at the man when he turned. “I’ll pay the difference.”

“Wha— no,” the stranger almost growled, face tinting pink as he shot a glare at him before turning back to the lady. “Just take it off.”

The stranger paid for the food and drinks before moving to the side to wait for his food. Scott walked up to the register, smiling at the lady behind the counter before speaking.

“I’ll have whatever he took off his order,” he said kindly as he stuck his thumb out towards the man who had just ordered.

“Right,” the lady said, ringing it up, looking like she didn’t get paid enough to witness the potential scene this was going to cause. “That’ll be $14.67.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, pulling out a twenty. “He was right, this place is expensive.”

He paid before walking to where the stranger had taken a seat and sat next to him.

“So,” he said as he sat, prompting the stranger to give him an odd look. “What’s your name?”

“...Why?” the stranger asks suspiciously.

“While I’m honestly just curious, I’d also like to know the name of the person that I just bought lunch for,” he replied, smile ever present on his face.

“What do you mean? I didn’t let you pay for my food,” the stranger said defensively.

“You’re right. I've definitely overstepped,” he said genuinely. “I just got a promotion and wanted to do something nice to give back to the universe that gave me so much. I’ll just go and cancel my order.”

He stood from his seat, intent on doing as he said, but the stranger's voice stopped him.

“It’s fine, just… leave it be,” he grumbled.

“No, really. I overstepped and I shouldn’t have.” Scott replied sincerely.

“I… don’t cause a thing,” the stranger grumbled again, cheeks tinting again. “Just… leave it… please.”

Scott sat back down, grinning sheepishly at the man. He felt a pit of guilt in his stomach for mettling without permission, and for putting a stranger in such an awkward position. In hindsight the man was obviously tense and uncomfortable and his actions must have caused it to get worse.

Well, the only thing he could do is to try to make up for it, he supposed.

“I’m Scott, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand to shake. “Scott Washington.”

“...Ace,” the man said, grasping his outstretched hand hesitantly after an extended moment of consideration.

“Nice to meet you, Ace,” Scott said, before releasing the man's hand.

They sat in silence for a few moments and he could tell that Ace was still uncomfortable, so he decided to speak up again.

“This… acquaintance,” he started slowly, prompting the former stranger to look towards him. “Did she send you here expecting you to pay?”

“No,” Ace said, stiffness only slightly receding. “She gave me money but I’m gonna give it back to her.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “You would pay for someone's food and not eat yourself even though they gave you money for their own stuff? Sounds similar to what I was doing.”

“It’s different,” Ace said flatly, face pulling into a frown.

“How so?” he asked.

“She’s… doing me a favor today,” he said after making a face, even if his body relaxed after every word it was obvious he didn’t like this conversation. “I’d be an ass if I made her pay for her food.”

“Oh! So you’re into her,” he stated matter of factly, thinking it made perfect sense.

“What? No,” Ace said flatly, shooting him a disapproving look. “I just don’t want to owe her.”

“Ah,” he said, that made more sense, but he was in a teasing mood. “But she’s pretty right?”

“I mean sure,” Ace conceded, less flustered than he had hoped. “But I don’t know enough about her to like her.”

“But you know her enough to owe her?” Scott questioned.

“You don’t need to know someone to owe them. I’ll owe you for a sandwich when it comes, and I know you less than I know her,” Ace muttered. “And I don’t like owing people.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully in response. “You don’t need to give me anything. Think of it as a gift.”

“It’s not,” Ace responded, seemingly appalled by the notion, before sighing. “I need to pay people back.”

“Hmm,” he hummed again. “Well I’m sure you’ll figure out how to repay me at some point.”

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Ace hit the elevator button with a heavy sigh. Ken had let him through with no issue but the extra sandwich made the bag feel heavier than it was. Scott Washington had insisted they trade phone numbers. So while he thought his chances of him ignoring the $14 debt were hanging on by a thread, the thirteen unread text messages the man had sent him on his walk back to the Oscorp tower had killed said hopes completely.

As the elevator moved, stopping and starting as people got on and off before he reached the floor he was meant to go to, he thought about what he might do. Taking the guy out for a drink would probably be the easiest thing, but something about the guy made it seem like he wouldn’t want to go for that. At the thought he grit his teeth, feeling vindictive. Dragging the dude out for drinks even if he wasn’t into it would serve him right for putting him in this situation in the first place.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to the eighty third floor. Heaving another sigh, Ace pushed off the wall and exited into the lablike interior. It was weird seeing it even the second time. Desks arranged like one would see in an office building were covered in paperwork and beakers of what he could only assume were chemicals. The combination of those two concepts struck him as odd—the open flames of bunsen burners being close to a printer seemed like a recipe for disaster—but he had to assume nothing bad had happened yet if it’s still like this.

He walked to Gwen’s desk only to find it empty, so he instead headed to what made sense to him to be the actual lab. He found her there, her laptop connected to some machine that he could only guess was processing his bloodwork. Her eyebrows were drawn together, eyes scrutinizing the screen in front of her in a way that made his chest feel weird. He brushed it off and shook his head, before knocking on the doorframe to announce himself. Scott’s words must have gotten to him more than he had realized.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, eyes darting to him over her glasses in surprise. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he said, before lifting the bag and shaking it slightly towards her. “Lunch?”

“Oh yeah,” she muttered, seemingly flustered. “Just… uhhh… one sec.”

She typed a few things on her laptop and he stood awkwardly in the doorway until she was finished. Eventually, she unplugged her computer from the machine before walking over to him. She led him back towards her desk and they both sat down. He pulled out the sandwiches and drinks, placing them down before sliding a $20 bill towards her. She looked at it and the orange soda he’d gotten her, before she raised her eyebrow questioningly.

“One, why didn’t you use the money I gave you, and two, how did you know I like Fanta?” she said, grabbing her sandwich.

“One, you’re helping me so think of it as me trying to pay you back,” he said, before reaching under her desk and pulling out an empty soda bottle from her trash can. “and two, you notice things when you sit somewhere bored for multiple hours.”

“Yeah, well… I guess that makes sense. Thanks,” she said, a small smile pulling at her lips as she tapped the toe of her sneaker on the floor. She unwrapped the sandwich before looking at it and frowning. “What is this?”

“You didn’t tell me what to get,” he said, slightly defensive. “Do you not like that?”

“It’s alright,” she said, tone flat. “But why did you get something vegan? I told you I eat meat.”

“When did you say that?” he said, defensiveness turning into pure confusion.

“Last night?” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “I told you I went to a hotdog stand.”

He tried his very best not to physically react as she confirmed his suspicion. He really did try and he would go to the grave repeating that sentiment if he needed to. But his efforts weren't enough to stop his jaw from slacking, causing food to fall on his lap and scatter slightly onto the floor. He cursed himself, placing his sandwich on the desk before cleaning up his mess. He sat back in his chair to see an amused smile on Gwen's face. He felt his expression turn sour.

“What’s so funny?” he huffed out indignant, an angry annoyance building in his chest.

“Nothing,” she said, her smile shrinking. “Just thought you knew.”

“I was suspicious when you gave me the mask,” he conceded quietly, not wanting any of her coworkers to hear. “But I wasn’t sure.”

“Well,” she said. “Now you know.”

He nodded in quiet agreement and they continued to eat, falling into a comfortable silence.

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As she entered her office she dropped the worried act. Her shoulders relaxed as a smirk graced her lips. She locked the door and slipped off her heeled shoes, nonchalantly striding across the room to sit at her desk, feeling the sores on her ankles stitch themselves together in a matter of seconds. She knew the others would be pissed, but she was confident in Hernandez’s ability to make it nigh impossible to know what exactly happened, and even more difficult to know who was involved. Her smirk settled into a satisfied grin as she pulled out a bottle of white wine from her desk drawer before pouring herself a glass. She smelled it before bringing it to her lips and taking a long sip. There was work to be done, she knew that, but there was nothing to worry about. If there was any luck it would be a while before either her or Hernandez needed to lift a finger to do more than know what’s happening. So for now she would enjoy watching the spectacle in tranquility.

Chapter Text

Gwen stifled a yawn as she rubbed the tiredness from her eyes, before looking back into the microscope. The tests she had run earlier had found foreign entities, but witnessing them first hand was something else entirely. Red and black microorganisms writhed around in the blood, clumping together when they touched each other. They all seemed to be gathering at one side of the petri dish. At first, it seemed like a coincidence, but the more it happened the more it seemed intentional. It was as if every single one of these individual amorphous cells had a goal.

After a few minutes, the goal was seemingly reached. She watched it, fascinated, as it was now large enough to attempt climbing out of its perceived prison. She took a few steps back, cautious but curious as to what it might do. As the smaller forms were now one, she could see it with her eye and was confident in her ability to catch it if something were to go awry. And since everyone else in the office had left for the night, it wasn’t as if someone would walk in on this.

The fly sized creature pulled itself out of the dish and seemed to completely ignore everything in the room. Instead, it inched its way towards Ace, who had fallen asleep leaning his head on a table. As it kept moving its movements became slower, until it fully stopped about three quarters of the way to him. She waited a few moments, observing as its more firm form began to soften, before almost completely liquifying. She approached the creature before putting it in another petri dish, and bringing it back under the microscope.

She found that all movement from the creature had almost completely stopped. It stretched towards Ace, generating small tendrils to pull itself forward feebly. Even with no face, or limbs it seemed weak. It looked like it was going to die.

“Ace,” she called loud enough to wake him.

“Wha…?” he groaned, pushing himself up enough to look towards her.

“Come over here,” she said, trying to convey urgency. “I want you to see something.”

She heard him sigh—which irked her again—before he stood and walked towards her. He stood next to her and she moved aside. He put his eyes to the lens, squinting.

“What is this?”

“It formed from the blood I drew,” she said casually. “It seems to be reaching towards you, touch it and see what happens.”

“I don’t want to touch it,” he grimaced. “It looks gross.”

“Just do it.”

He heaved another sigh and placed left index finger into the dish, she saw his eyes widen as he reached his right hand to his temple. He seemed to be barely able to move as black and red ichor gathered around his eyes as his fingers dug into his scalp, but his eyes didn’t roll back into his head. She reached out a hand intent on putting it on his shoulder in reassurance before pausing, uncertain if it would make whatever was happening better or worse. After a few seconds the liquid receded, and Ace seemed to regain control.

“Gah!” he let out a pained cry before taking deep breaths, bringing up each hand and rubbing circles against his temples.

“What happened?” she asked, placing on his shoulder now that it seemed safe.

“I… uhh… I don’t know,” he said breathily, still taking deep breaths. “It felt like my head was splitting open.”

“Okay,” she said, quickly opening her laptop and typing what he said out. “How were you feeling right before it happened?”

“...I was…creeped out,” he said, seemingly more exhausted than he had been earlier.

“So you were scared?” she asked.

“Mmm… I guess so,” he mumbled. “Scared, afraid, creeped out, take your pick.”

She didn’t “take her pick” instead deciding to write down each descriptor.

“And last night, when something similar happened,” she said, looking up at him again. “You were feeling the same way?”

“...Yeah,” he said after a thoughtful pause. “You had kidnapped me and were about to abandon me to figure this out on my own so that feels reasonable.”

“Okay, well,” she said, ignoring the accusation and finishing typing. “I won’t ask you to test it because it seems to hurt you, but I think we can safely assume that this thing doesn’t like it when you’re fearful.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, taking a seat of his own and sighing. “So it doesn’t like it when I’m scared but likes it when I’m mad.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, a bit surprised. “That was my theory. Did you come to the same conclusion?”

“Mmm,” he hummed again, “I’m thinking that’s why it was attached to me in the first place.”

“You were mad when it showed up?”

“Yeah, I was pissed.”

“It would make sense,” she mused, typing this information onto her laptop. “Unlike the fear, I’m interested in trying this out.”

“Are you sure?” he said, almost confused. “What if I lose control?”

“Well, I already took you down once, remember?” she said indifferently. “It should be fine.”

“Alright,” he responded, before looking around at the lab and saying. “But not here.”

“Oh yeah, definitely not here,” she knew she could subdue him if she had to but she wasn’t about to destroy her workplace.

“You have a spot?”

“Well, maybe,” she stated, scratching the side of her chin. “You like wings?”

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Scott walked up to his post trying not to let the nerves get to him. He tried his best to ignore it since the realization struck him, but the closer his shift got the harder it was. He never usually caught people's attention, but since last night he’d noticed people staring every now and then. It came to a head when he glanced at his reflection and noticed his eyes. They had been yellow for a moment before dulling to their usual brown. He had hurried home when he noticed—only after sending too many panicked text messages that he now deeply regretted sending regarding the situation to that Ace guy—and tried to find out what might have caused this. He scoured the internet, read too many articles on jaundice, and adjusted the lighting in his bathroom to try to replicate the lighting and positioning conditions that made them yellow in the first place to name a few, but ended up with nothing. He instead desperately scoured his mind for a potential cause, only for his thoughts to go back to the night before. While the pictures on his phone gave him some clue he needed to finish watching the security footage.

He walked in and gave the guard from the previous shift a kind smile as they left for the night. He wanted to make introductions, but his inner panic told him not to. There would be other opportunities.

He sat in the chair and rolled it to the desktop computer the second the booth door closed. He rewound the footage to a few minutes before he’d seen the creature. Blithe, his mind corrected, causing him to shake his head in confusion. He still didn't know why he knew that.

He waited for the creature to come into frame, but it never did. He scrubbed through the footage, replaying the same moments over and over again, but saw nothing. How is this possible? He had seen it last night.

He pulled up different angles and cameras and found nothing. That was less surprising to him, as he hadn’t seen these recordings before but something felt very off about all of them. After a few hours of finding nothing he decided to give up his search.

He sighed, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He held it in for a few moments before releasing them, imagining his negative feelings and worries being dispelled from his body, before smiling to himself. He would figure this out, it's just that this wasn’t the way he was supposed to.

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Ace felt like he should unbuckle his belt but out of sheer defiance refused to do so. Gwen had ordered a ridiculous amount of wings before he had even sat down—he had stopped at the restroom when they had entered as swinging through the city while he was able to see gave him vertigo—causing him to be initially annoyed as he had little to no money left. It was hard to be annoyed at this point though. He hadn’t eaten like this in years, and the sight of Gwen on the other side of the booth looking like she was gonna fall into a food coma with hot sauce still on her face was too amusing. He obviously owed her, but he’d let the indignation he’d feel about that stew for now. What were the two new debts that had been forced on him today in the face of what he owed his landlord? Or his tab at the bar?

“Hey,” he almost groaned, tapping her sneaker with his boot under the table. “We should go.”

“Ugh, yeah,” she groaned back, pushing herself into a sitting position and reaching for some napkins. “I’m right behind you.”

He stood up and started making his way to the exit.

“Hey, bub,” the owner said from behind the counter. “You think I’mma let you dine and dash?”

“What? No,” Ace responded, confused, pointing back towards the table. “She’s gonna pay.”

“There ain’t anybody there,” the owner said. “Now pay up.”

“Wha-” he started, turning his head towards the table to find Gwen to be nowhere in sight. What the hell was this? “The person I was with said they’d pay, I don’t have any money!”

“Well that’s too bad,” the owner sneered. “Guess I’m calling the cops!”

“Calling the cops? The hell are you on?” he exclaimed, the indignation he repressed from earlier bubbling into full blown rage. He was certain his eyes were red by the way the older man flinched back even before his palm slammed into the counter in front of him. “I got jipped the same as you!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gwen said, appearing out of nowhere and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Ace, go wait outside alright?”

He didn’t need to be told twice, storming out of the building, shoving the door so hard it seemed like it might fly off the hinges. He needed to hit something so he walked into the alleyway next to the restaurant and slammed his fist into the side of the dumpster. Where he would usually flinch back from pain he instead slowly removed his hand from the newly formed dent. Luckily, the one punch had been enough to allow him to shelf in his rage rather than continue to explode, even if he was still furious.

After a few minutes of waiting, he felt something attach itself to his foot, before he was yanked into the air and tossed onto the roof of a nearby building. He skidded and rolled before he slammed into an air conditioning unit. He grit his teeth and pushed himself up, coming face to face with The Ghost-Spider. He clenched and unclenched his fists, glaring at her.

“What’s your deal? Why’d you do that?” he spit out, hostility dripping from his tone.

“To get you mad, snippy,” she said condescendingly, making him shake with fury. “Now try to control yourself, this is just a spar after all.”

In retrospect, the ease of controlling this ‘Riot’ when he was in such a state, compared to when he wasn’t as mad, was astounding. There was a simplicity to controlling each of the black and red tendrils as they inched up his arms that seemed impossible. Each speck of the ichor-like form moved as naturally as moving a finger. But now was not the time for retrospect.

He slashed a clawed hand forward causing the Ghost to jump back. He reached forward with his uncovered left hand, grabbing her by the leg. He turned, swinging her towards the same air conditioning unit he had slammed into, but was stopped short when a shot of webbing hit his face. Instead of ripping it off, he allowed the liquid-like form to meld over his face. His vision came back just in time for him to lean out of the way of a kick she made with her free foot, the twisting of her body causing him to lose the grip on her ankle. She jabbed him hard in the stomach before perching on top of the air conditioning unit. He swung his left arm wildly, allowing it to transform into a large blade, which whiffed over her head as she ducked, before she leaped away. He moved to run after her but she shot two webs, sticking his feet to the ground.

“Hey, can you cool it with the sharp stuff?” she called out to him. “Better yet, time out?”

“Yeah,” he said, two voices coming out of his mouth at once. He was breathing hard. He was not used to fighting, and he wasn’t running on pure adrenaline like the first time he transformed.

Even as his anger subsided he was able to manipulate his form now that he knew what it felt like. He changed his arm from a claw, to a spearhead, to a blade then back again with ease, but other shapes seemed increasingly difficult to form. He tried extending a tendril, and forming another arm at a different part of his body, but what came about both times was feeble. Riot didn’t seem as malleable now as it did before it combined with him.

“So, I guess ‘snippy’ was a good name after all. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he said, pulling Riots form back into himself, “But better now that I know some of what’s going on.”

“That’s good,” The Ghost said, taking a seat on top of the now heavily dented air conditioning unit. “What are you gonna do now?”

“I don’t know,” he said, trying not to yawn. “I have to go to work tomorrow.”

“Well,” she mused. “If you’re interested you could probably use your power to help people. While great power comes with great responsibility, I can’t force that choice on you.”

“Yeah,” he said pondering, it didn’t seem like the worst idea, but he had his own stuff to sort out. “Maybe at some point.”

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When Scott woke up and started his daily routine he noticed something. When he cleared his mind of his worries through his meditation or painting, when he put himself into his calm happy state the next time he saw his eyes they would be yellow. It was odd, and new, and a bit scary but he was decently sure there was a connection between his happiness and that Blithe creature, but even so he needed to confirm it.

He set up a mirror and sat on his yoga mat. He began doing his breathing exercises, allowing all negative thoughts and feelings to flutter out into the universe, and as expected his eyes turned yellow. Instead of becoming surprised or scared he continued with his exercises, putting his hands on the ground and lifting his body on his hands and twisting his legs around his arm pose with another deep breath. He centered himself and began to imagine pulling at whatever was inside him that caused his eyes to do this. Pulling maybe wasn’t the right word, more so, he offered it a friendly hand as he closed his eyes. A hand which he felt reciprocated.

He shifted himself, standing upright on his feet before opening his eyes. What he saw shocked him, but with another breath he quickly calmed himself. His body was covered in a black, glossy substance that had a viscous yellow liquid shifting on top of it. His size was relatively the same, but the yellow gathered around his hands and shoulders, making them almost bulge.

He moves his arms from side to side before touching his almost featureless face. He had no mouth or nose, and only yellow shapes where his eyes were.

“Hello, Blithe,” he said, dazed, but cautious.

He felt a roiling of excitement that was not his own in response, and felt a smile tug on his lips.

“Let’s find out what we can do.”

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“I need people who actually show up to work. So, you’re fired.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘I’m fired’?” Ace shouted, loud enough that his coworkers definitely overheard what was going on. “I called out sick! You can’t fire someone for that!”

“That’s the beauty of paying you under the table, Romero,” his boss smirked back. “I can lay you off with no notice and for whatever reason I want.”

“You know what, fine!” Ace shouted again. “I hate this damn job anyway. Give me the money you owe me and I’m out.”

“I don’t owe you shit, kid,” his boss said, leaning back in his chair without a care in the world. “Not when cops came sniffing around here for you.”

“Like hell you don’t,” Ace said, barely registering the second half of what his boss—well now former boss—said as his eyes went red. He reached over the desk and yanked the older man by the shirt, getting in his face. “Give me the money you owe me.”

The older man quickly nodded in surprise and fear, demeanor fully changing. Ace released him and the man leaned down, unlocking his bottom drawer, before laying out a few hundred dollars on the desk.

Ace grabbed the money and stormed out of the office. His anger stewed for a few blocks before he couldn't take it anymore, dipping into an alleyway to find another innocent dumpster to damage. After giving it a few kicks, he calmed enough to look at the money in his hand. He counted it to find it to be more than he was owed. The fact made him feel simultaneously guilty and relieved.

He shoved the money in his pocket before walking back out of the alley and starting back towards his home. He’d need to find a new job soon, but with this extra money he thought he might be able to start paying some people back. He pulled out his phone, explicitly avoided his text messages, and made some calls.

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Gwen had never been in such an empty bar. Honestly it was kind of nice, the quiet atmosphere contrasting heavily to the busy streets outside. The walls of the building seemed to keep that noise out too. She only hoped as she waited that this wasn’t unusual and wouldn’t get more rowdy as the night continued. While she was never the biggest fan of drinking, Ace had called her about still needing to pay her back for yesterday. She mused to herself that doing something that she didn’t necessarily like fit the bill after her sneak attack.

“Excuse me,” a voice she didn’t recognize spoke, making her jump. “I’m Scott and I’m here to see my friend Ace. Do you happen to be Gwen?”

She turned to see a dark skinned man with short curly hair, he had a kind and… yellow eyes? The sight made her suspicious, especially when compounded with the fact that he startled her.

“Ah, well, yes,” she said flustered. “I’m Gwen. How do you know Ace?”

“I met him yesterday,” he said casually, taking a seat in the booth across from her. “In the sandwich shop.”

“And you consider him a friend already?” she questioned.

“By the end of the night maybe I’ll consider you a friend,” he said genuinely, causing a small smile to tug at her lips.

“Huh,” she half laughed. “Maybe.”

“So how do you know Ace?” he shot the question back to her, eyes glancing over at the bar curiously, before turning his attention back to her.

“Well, that’s, hmm…” she said, she didn’t expect to need a cover story for that so soon. “I… uhh… we got in an argument on the street and the rest is history.”

“Really?” he gave an amused smile. “And now you’re friends?”

“Acquaintances really,” she said, probably too quickly, but this Scott guy didn’t seem bothered.

“So you’re just acquaintances?” he asked, leaning his chin in his hand.

“Yeah, just acquaintances.”

“Cool,” he said, smoothly. Before giving her a smile. “Cause he’s right, you are pretty.”

“I see,” she said, trying to stifle a blush. Her brain was short circuiting and she was scrambling for a diversion. “Why are your eyes yellow?”

“Oh,” he said, leaning back. “These are contacts, they look real don’t they?”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “They do.”

There was a silence that felt awkward to her, but with what she read from this man's body language he seemed unperturbed.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he said after a moment. “I have this habit of just saying things before I read the room.”

“It’s okay,” she said, hands pulling at the hem of her shirt.

He gave her a kind smile, and the following silence was much more comfortable.

“So,” he said, breaking it. “What do you do?”

“I work at the Oscorp building,” she said, scratching the back of her head sheepishly. “I also am in a band, but that's more on and off.”

“Oh cool!” he said, much to her relief. “I work for the L.I.F.E Foundation.”

“You’re a scientist too?” her eyes widened in interest and surprise, even if he worked for their biggest competitor.

“Unfortunately not,” he said, it was his turn to be sheepish. “I just work security. I recently got promoted to the night shift, but tonight I have off. I definitely respect everything scientists do.”

“Ah, well, I imagine they pay well.”

“Oh! Yes definitely,” he said, nodding.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve brought that up,” she said, regretful.

“Oh, it's fine. I don’t mind talking about that stuff,” he said with a reassuring smile. “The day before yesterday was my first day in the position, and my coworker came in joking about if he had known he would’ve brought me coffee.”

“Mmm,” she hummed in response, prompting him to continue. This story was really boring, but the genuine way he said it was kind of endearing.

“He brought me coffee this morning though, which was very nice of him.”

“Right,” she said, smile pulling at her lips. “He sounds nice.”

“He is. Nice old man,” he nodded in agreement, seemingly reminiscing, before looking over to the bar. “Do you want anything? Or do you think we should wait for Ace?”

“Oh, uuh,” she had almost forgotten Ace was supposed to be coming, “I think we should wait. I think he wants to pay for tonight, and if we don’t let him I don’t want to deal with his snippyness.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded.

The more they talked the more she relaxed. Scott was easy to talk to, and his smile was disarming enough that she allowed herself to smile back. It's been a long time since she smiled so genuinely, barring the cocky smirk she would have on when her face was covered by a mask. As much as Ace got on her nerves, she had to thank him for introducing her to Scott.

“And then there was this tim- oh Ace!” Scott waved his hand over to the door as the bell rang, and she realized that she and Scott had been the only source of noise in the bar for a while. She turned to look and found Ace raising a hand awkwardly, heading over to the table.

“You two seem to be getting along,” he grumbled, not unkindly but in the very Ace way that made it impossible for her to not feel a twinge of annoyance.

“We are,” Scott said, chipper as ever. “Right, Gwen?”

“Right,” she said, trying to stifle a smile of her own.

Ace nodded silently in response.

“So,” Scott said, standing up. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom, then we can get those drinks!”

He walked past Ace, who took the other man's spot in the booth.

“His eyes are yellow,” he stated, almost phrasing it as a question.

“He said they’re contacts,” she said, her smile fading as Ace frowned. “But I have a different suspicion.”

“That being?”

“Well, I have an ability,” she said, whispering. “It’s kind of like a danger sense.”

“Okay?” he said, eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, I noticed that you don’t set it off,” she said, still quiet. “And I don’t think he did either.”

“You think he’s like me?”

“It’s possible,” she said, no longer feeling the need to whisper. “Maybe there’s more to this than it seemed.”

And it had seemed like a freak incident. No other reports had come in of a monster attacking people like Ace had. She had checked with her dad to be certain.

“Well, we have a chance to figure it out tonight,” Ace said, leaning back in his seat.

“Yeah, we do.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scott had never been a particularly stealthy person, so the three times he had to abandon his move to grab Ace’s phone was to be expected. After hearing from Ace he knew there was no way he would’ve read what he sent and still asked him to come out, so he’d made it his mission to delete those texts tonight.

It should be easy, especially now that Ace was on his fourth margarita—a drink choice that had shocked both him and Gwen—while he was still nursing his first beer, but it wasn’t. The extra pair of eyes that belonged to the woman across the booth from them didn’t help either.

Ace was staring at the phone of his screen with a scowl, and every second longer made Scotts internal panic skyrocket. He watched as Ace closed his phone and sighed, before putting it down on the table and sipping the last of his drink.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, standing up.

“I’ll walk with you,” Gwen sighed, downing the rest of her own margarita, intent on getting a refill.

“You want another?” Ace said to him, gesturing to his beer.

“Uhh… sure,” he said, eyes darting away from the phone to Ace, who had already looked away and started walking towards the bar after Gwen handed him her glass.

The second they both had their backs turned he grabbed the phone, clicking the start button and waiting for the screen to light, but nothing happened. He clicked it again… and again… and again. Maybe he needed to hold the button down? He gave it a shot to no avail. Had it run out of power? What kind of charger did this take-

“What are you doing with my phone?” Ace’s voice boomed.

He’d been caught.

“Just… uhh… trying to check the time?” he was also a bad liar when put on the spot it seemed.

Ace snatched the phone out of his hands, before sitting down on the opposite side of him. Scott watched as he pressed the spacebar a few times, before the blue glow lit his face. Scott cursed himself, realizing he’d seen Ace do that a few times before.

“It’s 9:47,” Ace grumbled, still looking at his phone, before taking a sip of his margarita.

“Oh… uhhh… thank you!” he exclaimed, trying to get the topic to change but was floundering.

“‘Yo! My eyes just turned yellow for some reason and I’m freaking out lol?! Have you seen a weird liquid monster recently? Why was my first thought to text you this? Please ignore me! I probably have jaundice! Wait. That’s not what jaundice does. This is a joke! I was just joking! GOTHCA! HAHAHA! HA!’” Ace read off his phone before deadpan staring at him.

“Haha,” he said meekly, putting his head down. “Funny right?”

“You have one?”

“Huh?” Scott looked up cautiously. “Have one of what?”

He saw Ace’s eyes flash red and he felt a deep recognition. He knew Ace was one with Riot, just as he was with Blithe. He hardly had any idea what Riot was but he could only assume it was similar to what had happened to him. He almost exclaimed in joy and relief at the revelation.

“You’re like me,” he settled on saying.

“I guess,” Ace said, sipping his drink.

“Is Gwen…?”

“No,” he responded, slightly shaking his head. “She’s something else.”

“I’m what?” Gwen said, coming back to the table and sitting next to him.

“You’re a really smart woman,” he said, smiling at her, prompting her to smile back.

“She,” Ace said, oddly seeming annoyed. “Is irritating.”

“You’re irritating,” she shot back, before pouting. “Like, really irritating.”

“...Anyways, Gwen,” Ace said after a pause, frowning himself. “You were right, Scott’s like me.”

“Oh, cool,” she said in a way as if she was trying to be disinterested, before giving the room a once over. She then glanced at him out of the side of her eye and whispered. “Have you considered using what you can do for good?”

“I’m not sure exactly what I can do,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“Well, don’t worry,” she said, smiling again at him. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said. “You want to sober up and then we can go figure it out?”

“Sure,” she said, nodding.

“I’ll go get us some waters and pay the tab,” Ace said, moving to stand up.

“You don’t need to come, Ace,” Gwen said sourly to him, obviously still peeved from their earlier spat.

Scott felt the mood shift as Ace paused for a second. He watched as the brown haired man’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why shouldn’t I come?” he asked, more offended at this than when he was called irritating. “This has more to do with me than you.”

“Ace, it’s fine-” he tried to soothe, only for him to be cut off.

“Oh, so you don’t want me there either?” Ace glared between the both of them, eyes flaring red. He took a wad of money from his pocket and threw it on the table. “Fine.”

“Ace, wait!” he called, but it was too late. His prospecting friend had already stormed out of the building.

He sat back down with a disappointed sigh, glancing over at Gwen. She was definitely drunk, and she had a frown on her face. He nudged her shoulder with his, causing her to look at him.

“It’s alright,” he said. “He’ll come around. It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Mmm,” she hummed in acceptance rather than full agreement. “He gets on my nerves.”

“I can tell. You seem to get on his a bit,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile. “ I’ll get you some water, and then we’ll get going. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, mind obviously elsewhere. “Sounds good.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was uncomfortable to hold the plastic that wrapped the flowers when his hands were covered in sweat but he powered through. That made him sound dramatic, there were bigger things on his mind right now than uncomfortable palms.

His chest tightened in a bundle of nerves as he stepped closer to their meeting point. He pulled at the collar of his dress shirt, trying to cool off as he stepped in front of the restaurant. He quickly glanced around, before he caught sight of the source of his stress. He felt a lump in his throat at the sight of her.

Her black hair was loose and wavy, cut just short enough to allow a view of her slender, ivory neck. She was wearing a beautiful silver dress, black flats and held a bag that tied the outfit together perfectly in her hand. He felt his heart stutter as something else that he chalked up to anxiety roiled within him. She was absolutely stunning.

He approached her as she was checking the time on the watch on her wrist. He held the roses so they would be in her line of sight before he was. She seemed to take notice, looking at them before looking towards his face. She smiled, causing him to do the same. She reached out towards the flowers, taking them from him gracefully.

“Aww,” she cooed. “You’re so sweet!”

“Shall we go inside,” he said, offering his arm to her.

“We shall-” she said, looking up from the flowers before flinching in surprise. “Dave, your eyes…”

“What about my eyes?” he asked, scared that something was wrong.

“N-nothing,” she said. “It… must have been a trick of the light.”

“Oh,” he exhaled out, relieved. “Uhh… let’s get going then?”

“Yes,” she said smiling, finally taking his offered arm. “Lets.”

He led her to the entrance of Le Coucou, trying to not let the nerves well back up. After holding the door open for his date he approached the host with what he hoped was a cool smile.

“Reservation for David Amadeus.”

“Ah yes, right this way, sir,” the man said after a moment of scanning the paper in front of him, leading them to their table.

He held her bag and flowers as she slid into the booth—he had insisted on taking the chair so she could set her bag and flowers next to her and not need to worry—before he handed them to her and took a seat himself. He smiled politely as the waiter approached. He ordered the Domaine de la Romanée-Cont to start before looking at the food menu.

“David,” Sofia called from across the table. “Did you just order a $9500 dollar bottle of wine?”

“Yes,” he said, trying to be casual, causing her eyes to widen. “The more expensive it is the better it must be, right?”

“One might assume so but…” she said, concern evident on her face. “Can you afford that?”

“Of course I can,” he replied, attempting to keep his collected facade from cracking. “Anything we want tonight is ours.”

He knew that what he just said was a lie. A lie he had very ample reason to tell. Sofia had recently gotten a job where she made an exuberant amount of money. Much more than him. He needed to show her that he could provide for her before she started, lest she find someone at her new place of employment and cut things off. She was his and his alone. He wouldn’t let her leave for some asshole that made more money than him. One that didn’t care for her even a fraction of how much he did. Just the thought gave him a headache.

“David…,” Sofia whispered over the table. “Your eyes...”

“Hmm?” he hummed, shaken from his thoughts, reaching his hand up to his face. He felt something wet, only for his hand to come away from his face covered in a black liquid.

“I… uhh…” he stuttered. “Excuse me.”

He stood abruptly, taking quick steps towards the bathroom. He stood in front of the mirror to see black tears streaming down his face. He grabbed a paper towel and wet it, wiping the viscous liquid off.

“Why does this keep happening?” he muttered to himself, staring at himself for a moment once he was cleaned up. “It’s okay, you’ll be fine.”

He left the bathroom to find Sofia waiting for him right outside. His eyes widened in surprise and his heart clenched. She looked upset, and it made him want to curl up into a ball. He wondered if he ruined everything.

“David, what was that?” she said, voice full of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Who, me?” he said, trying to come off as nonchalant. “Of course I’m okay.”

“A $9500 bottle of wine? Black tears running down your face?” she said, her lip quivering. “Are you dying?”

“No! Where’d you get that idea?” he said, still trying to fix the mood. “I’m healthy as an Ox!”

“Well, I think you should go see a doctor,” she said, seemingly steeling herself for the rest of this conversation. “This isn’t normal, David!”

“I went to a doctor, Sofia,” he said. “They said-”

“Please, David!” she pleaded with him. “I know you’re hiding something, please, please just tell me!”

“Everything’s fine,” he pleaded back. “Let's just go sit back down and-”

“No. No, I can’t do this,” she said, definitively. “This has been going on for too long. I’m sick of you lying to me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he said bitterly.

“It means,” she said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m breaking up with you.”

The words hit him like a truck as she stormed out of the restaurant. He watched her leave in a daze before he walked over to the table and sat down. It didn’t feel real what was happening right now, so he popped open the wine that had been left and poured himself a glass, downing it in quick gulps.

The longer he sat and the more he drank the more he felt like he should’ve seen this coming. She’d been acting weird ever since she got her promotion, seemingly trying to overcompensate, pandering to him, reassuring him when it wasn’t needed. In fact, she probably wanted this, she wanted to be single. She wanted to find another, richer man at her job. That must be it. He’s not the problem. It was her.

He put his head down on the table and sighed. He was lying to himself and he knew it. He had been acting just as weird as she had but he would never admit it to himself. Instead, he decided black tears staining his cheeks as his eyes flickered between blue and purple, that he’d get her back. No matter what.

Chapter Text

It took more than one of water to get them both in a state where Gwen thought they were sober enough to use their powers safely. Even though he barely drank he followed her lead as she had more experience with this kind of thing.

As they walked out of the bar she seemingly disappeared, only for him to be yanked up onto a roof a moment later. Fear and surprise shot through him as he landed in front of her with a thud. He probably should’ve expected that.

“Ow,” he said, rubbing his head. “That hurt, Gwen.”

“Ahh, my bad,” she said as she scratched the back of her head sheepishly, though through the white mask he couldn’t tell if it was genuine. “And call me ‘Ghost’ or ‘Spider’ when I’m in my suit.”

“That’s alright,” he said reassuringly. “And will do.”

“So,” she said, signaling an abrupt change of subject. “Do we need to get you angry or does your goo-monster work differently?”

He felt Blithe shift discontentedly at being called a ‘goo-monster’. Instead of answering the question he reached out to Blithe and allowed it to cover his body. “I have a pretty good handle on it already.”

“Oh!” she said, surprised. He could hear the smirk in her voice as she said, “You look like a frog.”

“Uhh, fair enough I guess,” he conceded unbothered. Though the only similarity he could see was the bulbous neck.

“Well, toad-man,” she teased. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To spar?”

“Oh… uhh… I don’t think I want to do that,” he said, put off by the idea. “Maybe we could go help people instead?”

She tilted her head in a way that seemed disapproving. “If you don’t know what you can do then you don’t know what you can do to help.”

He nodded in acceptance. “I’d still rather not fight you. You’re a friend. Maybe I can just test out what I can do?”

“Well, we can try that,” she said, almost sounding disappointed. “I guess just go for it.”

“I’m not really sure how to,” he said, now sheepish himself. “I was hoping you could guide me through that.”

“Oh, um…” she started, bringing a hand up to her chin. “Well, I think the yellow parts should be more malleable? Maybe try to focus on those? They should also feed on a particular emotion, so try to feel whatever that is.”

“Alright…”

Through his confusion he did as instructed, moving his hands in front of his face. He stared at them, trying to will the viscous coating to move, and while he was successful it seemed almost feeble.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, not at all put off by his lack of ability. “Maybe we can get Ace to come back?”

“Umm… Well,” she started, posture turning to something almost guilty. “If your powers work differently he might not be able to help?”

“Fair enough,” he said, dropping the obviously sore subject.

There was a long pause. “How about I take you with me to fight crime? Seeing it happen could help you figure out the process,” she suggested.

“That could be helpful.”

“Great!” she exclaimed, shooting a web and swinging towards him.

She lifted him off his feet and they swung off into the night. He yelped in surprise as he heard her chuckle.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It only took a few blocks to hear something that could use her help. She deposited Scott on the roof next to the alleyway before hopping down, sticking to the wall to get a good view of what was a standard mugging. A man held a gun towards another man who was emptying their pockets. She dropped from the wall, and shot a web, yanking the gun out of his hand.

“You know that’s illegal, right?” she said, dangling the gun at the end of her web. “Now back up and let the guy go.”

The man started to do as he was told, backing towards the wall of the building behind him. She looked between the two, and noticed the former mugger suddenly turn towards her, pulling out a second gun. She jumped and shot another web, this time towards the man who was picking his dropped possessions on the ground, intent on knocking him out of the way to safety. She stuck to the wall, refocusing on the threat, only to find it to be neutralized.

A yellow goo seemed to be melting the gun as the perpetrator was stuck to the wall by a similar substance. Scott stood in front of the former victim, who seemed to be shaking.

She crawled over to them, briefly pausing to inspect the restrained man. He was breathing, but unconscious, and the goo didn’t seem to be melting him like it was the gun. She sighed in relief and hopped off the wall, listening to the conversation between Scott and his first rescuee.

“...Ah, and here’s your wallet,” she heard him say, two voices now coming out when he spoke. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, thanks to The Ghost-Spider and to you… sir?”

“Oh, uhh…” she could hear the flustered smile in Scotts voice. “Well I’m new to this so I don’t have a name just yet.”

“Just go with the first thing you think of,” she called over, giving a slight wave when they both looked at her.

“Umm… alright then…” he paused for a second. “You can call me… Hybrid?”

“Well, uhh… thank you for saving me, Hybrid.” the man nodded. He seemed a bit freaked out even if he was grateful.

The man walked hurriedly out of the alleyway as the newly dubbed Hybrid turned towards her. She could tell he was smiling under the liquid-like mask and she shot him one from behind her own.

“Nice job,” she said. “Looks like you figured it out, Hybrid.”

“Thanks, Spider,” he said bashfully. “Not the best name. Do you think I should’ve gone with ‘Blithe’?”

“Is that the name of your goo-monster?”

“...Yeah?” he said, seemingly put off.

“Well, I would’ve gone with something about frogs but Hybrid’s fine,” she said, trying to amend the unintended offense. “Better than having the papers label you and needing to run a rebranding campaign.”

“Fair enough,” he said, mood lifting immediately. “Let’s go find some more people to help.”

“Yeah,” she said, watching as he reabsorbed the yellow ichor he had previously released back into his body. “Let’s do that.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sleeping in was something that Ace loved but could almost never afford. He usually had to reserve it for when he couldn’t enjoy the activity, otherwise known as when he was hung over beyond belief or sick. He expected today to be one of those times–having dranken half of his stash of beer after coming home from the bar–but he surprisingly had a clear head. He briefly wondered if that was due to Riot, before a knock on his door shook him from his thoughts.

He promptly ignored the knock, deeming it most likely his nosy neighbor, who would eventually get bored from his lack of response and leave. He pushed himself up from his pull out couch that had been in bed form for as long as he could remember, pulled on his shoes, and grabbed his wallet. His preparations to leave were disturbed by an additional knock on his door.

“Wait or fuck off!” he shouted at the door, irritated. He had more important shit to deal with than whatever this random visitor needed.

The knocking stopped at that, allowing him to make his remaining preparations in peace. He took a look in his refrigerator to find nothing but the aforementioned beer, a bottle of ketchup and a packet of soy sauce. He briefly considered squirting the ketchup into his mouth, but decided he wasn’t hungry anyway.

He made his way over to the door and looked through the peephole to see the unfamiliar sight of a man and a woman. He had never seen them before. They were wearing suits and the woman seemed to be wearing a trench coat. This was most definitely not his neighbor. “Who is it?”

“NYPD,” the black haired woman said harshly, holding up her badge up to the door.

Shit. “What do you want?”

“We’re looking for Ace Romero,” the man next to her said. “Is he here?”

He contemplated his options. He could run. He’s pretty sure he’d be fine jumping out the fourth floor window with Riot as a factor, but his brain also rationalized that he hadn’t done anything wrong. At least not that he hadn’t already paid for. He reached for the door and cracked it open as Riot stirred in disappointment.

He looked at the man suspiciously, “What do you want?”

“Ace Romero?” the woman questioned.

His eyes went to her. “Yes. For the third time, what do you want?”

“Would you mind if we come in?” the man asked. The back and forth was making his head spin.

“You have a warrant?” He didn’t want to deal with whatever game they were trying to play.

“You want us to go get one?” the woman threatened.

He clenched his jaw. “Fine.”

He opened the door fully and the two walked in. They looked around awkwardly, probably planning on sitting down as some sort of weird power move but the only furniture he had was his pullout couch and a coffee table. Watching them scramble gave him a weird blend of embarrassment and satisfaction.

“Now, for the fourth time,” he said, annoyance turning to pure irritation. “What do you want?”

“Mr. Romero,” The woman started, tone deadly serious, “we are here because we found more than half a gallon of your blood painting an alleyway a few blocks from here.”

He internally cursed himself for forgetting that he’d need to deal with that. “So?”

“So,” she echoed, “you should have bled to death. Instead, you’re here, completely uninjured and,” she looked around the apartment disapprovingly, “thriving.”

“Maybe a blood bank got broken into,” he said, dry sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I donate a lot of blood.”

The woman looked at him, unimpressed. “Do you remember what happened two nights ago?”

“No, I don’t,” he lied, the patience he didn’t even have shattering even more. “Now if you don’t mind, I have shit to do.”

The woman seemed to move to say something, but the man put a hand on her shoulder. She shot him an annoyed look but backed down.

“Thank you for your time, and sorry for the intrusion,” the man said, leaving a business card on his counter. “If you remember anything, please give us a call. We’ll be in touch.”

He glared at them as they walked out the door. When it closed behind them he locked it, clenching and unclenching his fists. His frustration drove him to take off his shoes and jacket, before throwing his wallet across the room. He didn’t want to go out feeling like this, even if just to grab a newspaper to look for a job. Instead he decided to take a cold shower, the water tempering his nerves by the time he was done. It allowed him to think more clearly, and not knowing what to do he decided to make a call. He opened his phone, scrolled through his five contacts and brought it up to his ear. After about four rings—each one making his head ache— the other line picked up.

“Hello, Ace?”

“Scott? Can you hear me?”

“Yep!”

“Okay, good. Sometimes my microphone doesn’t work.”

“You need to get a new phone,” Scott said. Something about the way he said stuff like that prevented Ace from voicing his annoyance, even if it bothered him.

“Too expensive,” Ace said flatly. “I need your advice.”

“About?” he sounded like his mouth was full. “Oh, is this about Gwen?”

“No,” he said. That irked him enough to allow his displeasure to seep into his voice. “Some cops showed up at my place. They found my blood all over an alley.”

“What?” Scott responded, chewing having stopped. “Are you okay?”

He had forgotten he didn’t know about that. “When Riot attached to me I was bleeding out. I’m fine.”

“Oh,” Scott said, still sounding worried, “well that’s something.”

“Yeah,” he said, already feeling like he wants to go back to sleep. “Do you have any idea what I should do?”

“Why were you bleeding out in an alleyway?”

“I have more pressing issues to deal with.”

“Dude…”

“Can I just tell you later?”

“Okay, fine,” Scott accepted. “I don’t know if you’re gonna be happy to hear it,” he said, his tone growing more cautious, “but, I think this is about Gwen.”

“How is this about Gwen?”

“You called me when you knew she’d have more insight into this,” Scott said, matter-of-factly.

He held in a petulant groan. “How does that make this about Gwen?”

“Not the whole situation, the fact that you didn’t call her. I’ve fought crime for an entire four hours. How many years have you seen The Ghost-Spider in the news?” Scott said with what sounded like admiration.

“Mmm… I guess,” he sighed. “You could’ve just said you don’t know what to do.”

“Also fair,” his—begrudging as he was to admit it—friend said, hope obvious in his voice. “I’m sure she’ll help. You were both drunk, it wasn’t that big of a thing.”

“Mmm.”

“Ace, trust me. She feels bad about it too.”

“Mmm…” he hummed again. “How do you know that?”

“I was with her last night. Just, trust me.”

“Fine,” a similar but different frustration to the usual he felt welling up in his chest. “I believe you.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gwen looked up from her laptop to find half the desks and workstations already empty. She looked at the small digital clock on her screen, noticing that she should’ve been gone five minutes ago. She shrugged to herself and closed her laptop before placing it in the drawer of her desk and making sure to lock it inside before standing up. She turned and made her way towards the elevator, clicking the down button when she was there.

“Gwen Stacy,” she heard a voice she recognized, but rarely heard call her.

She turned. “Mr. Osborn,” she said with a polite nod.

“Gwen, you’ve worked here longer than I have,” he said with a smile. “You know I want you to call me Harry.”

He was always like this, too personal. Even if he seemed genuine they never had that kind of relationship and it bothered her that he tried to force what wasn’t there. “What can I do for you, Harry?”

He gestured to the elevator. “I’ll tell you on the ride down.”

They waited in silence. She glanced over at him cautiously to see if he felt as uncomfortable as she did, only to be disappointed by his lack of awkwardness. He looked the same as the last time she saw him. Calm look on his face, hair long enough that it almost looked unprofessional—she’s sure that he kept it that way just to spite his father in the grave—suit impeccable. It was a complete contrast to the image that flashed in her mind of him on what she assumed was still the worst day of his life .

But she didn’t want to think about that.

If not for her spider sense, she would’ve jumped when the elevator dinged. The doors opened and they both made their way inside. She hit the button for the ground floor and held in a groan at the thought of how many floors she’ll have to endure his company.

“So, Gwen,” he said, breaking the silence. “How have you been?”

“Fine,” she said, staring as the floors slowly counted down. “What can I help you with?”

“Straight to business then,” he said, faint disappointment in his voice that went away as he continued. “I need your mind on a very specific project, but I can’t tell you the details unless you agree.”

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me anything?”

“Unfortunately not,” he said, looking straight ahead. “At least, not in these early stages. Obviously if you agree and want out once you know what you’ll be doing we won’t hold it against you.”

From anyone else she’d assume it was a lie and to anyone else she assumed that it would be. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” he said, sounding relieved it wasn’t a flat ‘No’. “Take all the time you need. I’ll let you know if I can tell you more.”

She didn’t respond, allowing silence to fill the rest of the ride down. When they finally made it to the ground floor she let out a small sigh of relief.

“I’ll walk you out,” he said before she could bolt.

“Ahh… thank you,” she forced out, her relief immediately abandoning her.

She felt him fall in step next to her. She usually liked the sight of the exit of this building and the freedom it meant, but right now it felt like how she imagined walking towards the pearly gates of heaven would feel. So close to salvation yet so many slow steps she needed to take.

She pressed open the door and took a few steps away. “See you later, Harry.”

“Alright, Gwen! Just think about… it,” he trailed off.

His change in tone caused her to shoot him a glance. She saw his mouth agape, eyes wide with shock. He looked like he had seen a ghost so she turned to see where he was looking.

“Is that…”

“No,” she said, biting her lip. “It’s not.”

“But we should go as-”

“It’s not him,” she said, closing her eyes. “I know him.”

“Oh…” Harry said, voice wavering. “Sorry it’s just… familiar scene I guess.”

She opens one eye to look at Ace. He’s looking around awkwardly before checking his phone seemingly on loop with a Fanta in his hand. Her chest aches for a second before she forces it down.

“He looks just like Peter,” Harry spoke again wistfully. “At least from here.”

“The more you know him, the more that becomes apparently false.”

“Right…” he hummed. “I’ll uhh, leave you to it then.”

She stood watching Ace until her boss's footsteps blended in with the sounds of the street around them. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, once again asking why she was doing this to herself, before walking towards the bench he sat on.

“Hey,” she said, causing him to look up at her in surprise. “What do you have there?”

“Peace offering?” he said with a shrug.

She took it from his hand. “Well, I can’t say I expected this.”

“I’m not a complete ass,” he said, indignant.

She held in a snort. “Sure you’re not.”

“Mmm, fair enough,” he grumbled, scratching the side of his face embarrassed. “I’m sorry I called you irritating.”

“Thanks, well… I’m also sorry I called you irritating,” she said, lightly punching his shoulder. “Even if you are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he seemed annoyed. “Take it but don’t give it, I know the drill.”

She furrowed her eyebrows, confused. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, hastily, frowning as he did. He was obviously put off.

She felt like she needed to make it up to him. “Walk with me?”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement after a second of contemplation.

They began to walk in silence. She was more comfortable in this one—especially due to the busy streets—even if Ace was moping beside her.

“Coffee or hotdog?”

“Huh?”

“Coffee or hotdog?” she repeated.

“You… don’t have to get me anything.” he said, uncharacteristically passive. It was weirding her out.

“If you don’t pick I will,” she said, trying to muster a voice that would get on his nerves as she held up her bottle of soda. “You’re not the only one who needs to pay people back.”

He sighed deeply and she almost smirked. “Fine, hotdog I guess.”

They kept walking until they came across a stand that was familiar to her. She ordered two, passing one over to Ace. They ate on the side of the street in silence.

“Thanks,” she heard him mumble. “I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Why not?”

“No money,” he shrugged. “Plus I got fired.”

She stared at him blankly, “So you took us out to drink when you had no money and lost your job?”

“Yeah…” he trailed off. “Well, I don’t have literally no money. I just need to save it for rent and I haven’t been particularly hungry.”

“Mmm,” she hummed contemplatively. “Let me know if that continues.”

“Why?” he said, voice muffled by the food in his mouth.

“Curiosity, data, science,” she listed, tone bored. She smirked when he made a face. “Exactly.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, downing the rest of his hotdog in two bites, before starting to walk in the direction they’d been walking before.

She followed suit. “So what’s your plan, Ace?”

“The plan is,” he started, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I… uhh… I need your advice.”

“Oh?” she said, curious. “What about?”

“It’s about,” he made a gesture with his hands. “The thing.”

“The thing?”

He looked around at the many people on the street. “The reason we met thing.”

“Ah, well, I’m heading home anyway. We can talk there.”

“Okay.”

She led him a few more blocks down. She stopped in front of the apartment complex before looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked awkward as he stared at the tall building. It reminded her of when he was first at her job. She walked in, heading to the elevator with him in tow. Slowly and uncomfortably, they made their way into her home.

“So what’s up?” she said as she walked into her kitchen.

“The cops came by my house,” he said, closing the door behind him. His tone grew annoyed seemingly just from the thought. “They found my blood in the alley that we fought in.”

“Oh,” she hadn’t expected that. “Huh.”

“Yeah… I’m not exactly sure what to do…”

“I’ll handle it.”

“What? No,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows. “Just tell me what to do.”

“I’m telling you to let me handle it,” she said, opening her fridge. “Do you want anything?”

“Gwen,” he almost growled. “I owe you enough already. I need advice, I don’t want you to deal with this for me.”

“Fine,” she said, pulling out two bottles of water and throwing one to him. “Then let’s make a deal.”

He caught it. “What do you want from me?”

“My band is trying to get me to agree to a gig on Halloween. But Halloween is like the hotbed for crime for some annoying reason so I need to patrol. Unless you help me.”

“You want me to patrol on Halloween?”

“Fight crime, really. Nonlethally of course.”

“I’m not gonna go around killing people,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t you ask Scott to do that? He wants to do that sort of thing.”

“Scott doesn’t want a favor from me,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “You’re in a band?”

She took a sip from her water. “Yep.”

“Mmm,” he hummed again, acting like these questions were relevant to his decision. “What do you play?”

“Drums.”

“Mmm,” he hummed a third time. “Okay.”

“‘Okay’ as in you agree to my terms?”

He sighed, making her want to squeeze the water bottle he held and make it spray into his face. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good,” she said, a smile almost grazing her lips at the news. “Do you have the officers names?

Instead of answering he pulled out a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. She looked at the names and sighed.

Of course it was them.

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“Did you know that Gwen’s in a band?”

Ace was leaning over the side of the building, looking down at the street below in a way that made him anxious so he tried to avoid looking his way, but his question made him do so. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on with Ace, he’d seemed a bit off since the night they all went out, so he thought inviting him to drink on the roof of his apartment complex would help.

“Yeah I did,” Scott said, wistfully. “Why, what’s up.”

“She’s playing a gig on Halloween.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, trying to understand the point.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Yeah.”

“Maybe I should go see it.”

There was a long silence, and he looked away. Ace’s moping was giving him a headache. He took a deep breath at the thought, realigning himself. If his friend was going through something he’d get to the bottom of it.

“Ace,” he called, looking over at him again. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” he responded, rolling off the ledge and landing on the roof.

“Ace, come on,” he said with a half smile. “Talk to me.”

He watched silently as Ace let out a deep sigh before downing the second half of his beer. He stared at the ground, seemingly contemplating whether or not he should actually say what was on his mind.

“It’s…” he let out another breath. “I got fired, I guess?”

“You guess?”

Ace paused, retroactively deciding he already said too much. “…yeah.”

He decided not to push him too far, instead trying to lighten the mood. “You know what bothers me? Not understanding what these things in us are!”

“Mmm, I haven’t given it much thought.”

“Gwen called it a ‘goo-monster’ a few nights ago and I don’t think Blithe liked it much.”

“Should we come up with a name?” Ace suggested. “We are the ones who they’re attached to.”

“We could,” he agreed. “I wonder if there are more out there.”

“It’s possible,” Ace concurred, seemingly sufficiently distracted from his inner machinations. “But as for a name I’m not sure.”

“Well they live pretty harmoniously with us,” he mused. “Maybe something like ‘harmonites’?”

Ace looked confused. “Blithe’s never attacked you before?”

“No?” he questioned back, “Has Riot attacked you?”

“Mmm,” he hummed in confirmation. “Riot doesn’t like it when I’m scared, but he likes it when I’m angry. Does Blithe not work similarly?”

“I haven’t noticed anything like that,” he racked his memory for something like it. “At least the attacking part. Blithe always seems pretty lively though.”

Ace hummed in thought again. “How were you feeling when your eyes would turn yellow?”

He’s glad they both seemed to have gotten that under control. “Content, I guess?”

Ace frowned. “You’re joking?”

“No, why?”

“Your thing runs on happiness,” Ace deadpanned. “And you don’t know what it doesn’t like.”

“Maybe,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

Ace seemed bothered at that, but seemed keen on not voicing it. “Since they can do something that harms us but choose not to, I think the term symbiotic applies more than harmonious.”

While it was a stretch of the definition he wouldn’t correct him right now. “I’m surprised you know what symbiotic means,” he joked.

“I went to grammar school,” Ace said, frowning indignantly.

He smiled at that. “I think I first heard the word in middle school at least.”

“It was a private grammar school,” he said, his frown deepening.

“Hmm,” he hummed, surprised at the information. The frown made him want to ask and allowed him to know not to. He massaged a temple as the headache he thought he shook came back. “How about ‘symbiote’ then?”

Ace seemed to sigh in relief. “Has a nice ring to it.”

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She silently landed on the balcony that she used to sneak out from a few years prior. It was too familiar, and after the day she had it made her chest ache with nostalgia overlapped with sadness. She didn’t want to come here in the first place but a deal is a deal and this is the way she knew how to keep her end. She reached into the pot of the plastic plant that hadn’t moved an inch and used the key inside to unlock the balcony door, slipping inside. She glanced around, finding the hall empty, before turning and walking in the direction of the home office where she was sure she would find who she was looking for.

She stood outside the door for a long moment, listening for noise past the thick wooden door. She heard the tv through from the inside of the room, playing some recorded baseball game that must’ve happened recently. She wanted to take that as a sign that everything was going well but she wasn't sure if it was. She took a deep breath and knocked as she opened the door to the sight of a man sitting at a familiar oak desk. He looked older than the last time she had seen him, his blonde hair was streaked white, wrinkles littering his face and he wore his exhaustion like a coat. It made her chest tighten in a strange guilt.

He looked up in surprise as she entered. “Gwen?”

“Hey, Dad…” she said softly, trying to pull a smile to her face.

He stood up, hope lighting his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Business, actually.”

“Ah,” the excitement dimmed in his eyes and he sat back down. He gave her a sad smile. “What can I help you with?”

She pulled out the business card, walking across the room to place it in front of him.

“Watanabe and Urich are looking into stuff that won’t make sense,” she said plainly.

He picked up the card and inspected it. “This scenario’s more ‘spider’ oriented I presume?”

“Something like that,” she said, folding her arms and looking away. “I think the situation is basically over and if they keep looking into it someone who doesn’t deserve it is gonna be behind bars.”

“Okay,” he sounded like he was giving in. “I’ll do what I can but you know how these two are. Especially when it’s stuff they should butt out of.”

“I know,” she agreed. She’d need to tell Ace to lay low. She tapped her heel against the floor a few times, trying to push the nerves down. “How are the boys?”

He gave her a soft smile at that. “They’re good.”

“That’s good,” she responded, immediately regretting she asked, itching to leave.

“You know you can visit us from time to time. They’re your brothers, they’ll be happy to see you.”

“I’ll uhh… think about it,” it took everything she had to keep from bolting. “Uhh… thanks for the help, Dad.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

“Darling,” he said, pleading into the phone. “Please, please, please let me explain!”

“I didn’t like you calling me that even when we were together, David,” she said flatly. “And I don’t want to hear your reasons or excuses. What I want is for you to leave me alone for a while. Alright?”

“Sofia, you know I can’t do that,” he said pathetically. “I need you. I can’t think of anything else! I can’t breathe without you.”

She sighed into the phone, which irked him. “Don’t you see that that’s the problem?”

“How could you say that to me?” he was appalled by the concept. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“You’re ridiculous. We’re not together, if there’s someone else or not it’s none of your business,” she said, agitated by the insinuation.

“You backstabbing bi-”

“Goodbye, David.” she said, cutting him off and hanging up the phone.

He glared at the phone for a few moments, processing what just happened as his head screamed at him in pain. He slammed his cellphone down in front of him, shattering it and breaking off a chunk of the granite countertop. He stood up, jealousy coursing through him as black tears ran down his face. If she wouldn’t talk to him on the phone, he’d make her listen in person.

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She wasn’t one to dress up and was even more nervous to do so in a new place of work, so even with the insistence of her coworkers that Halloween was a huge deal in the office she decided she’d rather be underdressed than overdressed. She decided that she’d go in basic office wear but to do her makeup in a gothic fashion, akin to what she imagines a vampire would be, in case this was just some prank on the new girl. Luckily, her worries were for naught as the first person that had come into view when she got off the elevator was dressed as a traffic cone.

“Sofia!” the traffic cone, who sounded suspiciously like Michelle, called. “You look great!”

She felt herself blush at the compliment. “Thank you! You look great too.”

“Aww thanks,” Michelle said with a smile, striking a pose. “I think it really compliments my figure.”

She held in a snort, but let herself chuckle. “Yes, definitely,” she joked. “Like an hourglass.”

“Maybe the bottom half.”

She took a second to glance around the workplace to find people dressed to varying degrees. She gave the snack table that seemed to have been set up an odd look that prompted Michelle to speak up.

“Instead of office parties we just have them during the day here. Boss says it’s simpler, but mostly I think it’s so he can stay home and spend the day with his family,” the brunette explained. “I kinda organized everything this year which sucks. I can’t let loose because I’d have to clean it up.”

“Oh! I can help you later if you want!” she offered, trying to keep her voice from giving away her ulterior motive of spending more time with this woman.

“Aww, thank you,” Michelle accepted graciously, smile growing brighter. “I’d love that.”

Not for the first time she was grateful for how much makeup caked her face as she was sure at this point her entire face was bright red.

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Scott was pretty sure this was the right place. It seemed pretty underground and unassuming. Perfect for a band called the ‘Mary Janes’ to play. He was lucky he was still early even after getting a bit lost. While he would miss not being able to answer his door—halloween was his favorite holiday and seeing little kids faces light up in excitement at the full sized candy bars he had coveted as a kid was always a highlight—seeing Gwen perform was definitely more important, especially with how rare it probably was considering her other professions.

He looked around, making sure he was out of sight before extending a thin yellow tendrils with a larger hand-like appendage, grabbing the ledge of the roof and pulling himself up onto the small building. He was still getting used to the sensation that he could only describe as his arm stretching, but he shook it off and used his perch to scan the area. He caught sight of a van at the back of the building with four women moving band equipment. With a smile he jumped off the roof, out of view of the group.

He landed silently a few feet behind Gwen, who was holding a snare drum. He thought he might help. “Need a hand?”

“Ah!” she jumped, spinning towards him. He flinched back when he saw her wind her fist to punch him but she lowered it when she recognized him. “Scott? Hey! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see the show,” he said with a smile. “Ace told me you were playing so… y’know.”

“Oh,” she said, eyes widening in surprise. “Well, I hope you enjoy it. It’s been a while since I had the chance to perform.”

“I’m sure you’re gonna do great,” he said confidently, before taking a look around. “Is Ace coming? I assumed he’d be early too.”

She made a face that he couldn’t really read. “Ace is dealing with some stuff right now. He won’t be able to make it.”

He frowned and his head started to hurt, feeling for his friend. She must have more insight as to why Ace was feeling down recently than he did. “That stinks. Hopefully he’ll be able to come next time.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” she said with a half smile.

He felt his sad thoughts recede at the sight and he smiled back. “So, do you need any help moving anything?”

“We’d appreciate the extra set of hands,” she said, twirling the drumstick in her hand like a baton. “Let me introduce you to MJ first though, so she doesn’t think you're someone trying to sneak in.”

“MJ? As in ‘Mary Janes’?” he said amused.

She cracked another grin. “That’d be her.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ace wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to be looking for. He didn’t know what Gwen’s definition of crime was and he didn’t feel strongly enough about smoking weed to stop the people he’d seen doing it. He assumed she wouldn’t put much of a stop to that either, but still, knowing specifically what she deemed bad would help…

…so would having a better way of getting around than walking.

He aimlessly wandered the streets, brushing past people in costumes inevitably heading to parties and tried to avoid looking at any families. He didn’t like this time of year. It got harder to ignore the ever present gnawing at the back of his mind. He’d usually be holed up in his apartment on Halloween. The comfort of the thought of that scenario made him almost regret accepting Gwen’s offer. Even if he was pretty sure he’d get a knock on his door from those cops pretending to be trick or treaters. His landlord had done it enough times over the years for him to know the scheme well.

He shook himself from his thoughts to find himself in front of a large office building. The sun was seemingly about to set. He looked around and realized he didn’t remember how he got here. He pushed down the fear he felt from that thought of losing time, managing to negate Riot’s reaction to just a dull pain at the base of his skull.

Even as the pain receded he felt the symbiote continue to stir, pulling him in a direction. He steeled himself and followed.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You don’t have to do that, y’know.”

Gwen turned away from the symbol she was about to lift at the sound of her friend's voice yelling over the dj that was now playing. She raised an eyebrow in response as she yelled back, “What do you mean, MJ?”

“I mean,” the redhead crossed her arms. “Go find that friend of yours and get out of here. We can clean up the equipment.”

“It’s not like that,” she said flatly.

“I didn’t say it was,” her friend pointed out. “Come on, Gwen. Let yourself have some fun. I haven’t seen you smile that much in a while.”

“You know what, fine,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes, no intention of doing what her friend's underlying suggestion was. “I’ll go find him.”

“Have fun,” she barely heard MJ call in a singsong voice as she walked away.

She made her way to the side of the crowd and pulled out her phone, shooting Scott a text that she hoped he would see as it would make finding him easier. She kept her phone in her hand as she kept looking through the crowd and around it, coming up with nothing.

She frowned, heading towards a slightly quieter part of the building. She planned on giving her eardrums a break before going in for another look, only to find the person she was looking for sitting against the wall.

She opened her mouth to call out to him, but hesitated. He was hunched over in what seemed like pain, so instead she ran over to him and kneeled down.

“Scott,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright? What’s going on?”

He looked up at her dazed, seemingly barely recognizing her. The base dropped and he seemed to flinch back, his eyes flickering from yellow to brown rapidly.

“Let’s get you out of here,” she said mostly to herself as she was pretty sure he couldn’t hear her. She pulled his arm over her shoulder and stood, quickly leading him out of the club.

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“That should be the last of it,” she heard Michelle say as she placed the box into the trunk of her car.

“Are you gonna drive as a traffic cone?” she asked jokingly.

The other woman laughed. “If I do, does that mean I would control the flow of traffic?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, holding in a snort.

“Dang, that sucks,” Michelle said, feigning disappointment, before pulling the orange cone over her head to reveal the black leggings and shirt she wore underneath.

“W-Would you want some help moving the stuff into your place?” Sofia offered, trying to push down the nerves. “I could tag along.”

The other woman either ignored her stuttering or didn’t notice. “Actually, I think I’d appreciate it…”

Sofia watched as Michelle’s gaze seemed to shift to something behind her, her expression shifting from thankful to a scared confusion. She followed the look only to feel a shock of her own as a figure stood in the darkness of the parking garage. The headlights of a passing car shined on them, outlining the figure which she immediately recognized.

“David,” she called out. “What are you doing here?”

The figure didn’t respond, instead taking a step forward. She took a step back causing her to bump into Michelle, who put a hand on her shoulder. David stopped at that, tilting his head to the side like a dog, before letting out an abrupt laugh.

She watched as David fell to his knees, the laugh turning into a horrendous cackle that shook his body, which began to contort and shift. She flinched as she heard the echoing of bones snapping. Michelle slowly began pulling her towards her car and she turned and followed, almost tripping over her feet too scared to think straight.

She heard David’s voice call her, seemingly being joined then overtaken by another voice as he spoke. “Sofia! Where are you going, Sofia? Don’t you know I love you?”

After those words the snapping stopped and it became deathly quiet. She turned and took a nervous look at David, only to find a monster.

Chapter Text

Sofia had read somewhere that fight or flight had a third option of freezing but she didn’t give it much credence until now. Fear shook her body as the shadowclad silhouette took a step forward into the light. Armor-like plates of hardened dark purple shifted over a liquidated black form. It walked slowly, but with purpose, its humanoid feet cracking the ground with every step. The thing’s face… No, David’s face was a hard-set jaw with flat teeth. He had no eyes, or at least if he did they were completely covered by two of the armored plates that covered his head from his nose to the back of his skull. She wanted to cry. As mad as she was at David she couldn’t imagine this was what he was hiding from her.

She felt Michelle pull her shoulder slightly. The movement caused the creature to stop for a moment. It tilted its head to the side as if confused, before it charged forward.

“David, please! Stop this!” she pleaded, trying to scramble out of the way.

She closed her eyes before hearing an impact and a second loud crash. She opened her eyes to see a man with tan skin and brown hair, his eyes glowing crimson. She looked to where the crash had come from to see the monster that had taken over David stuck between a car and the wall.

What was happening?

“Get out of here,” the brown haired man almost growled in the direction of her and Michelle, successfully shaking her out of it.

“Let’s go,” she called to Michelle as she ran to the passenger door. The other woman was way ahead of her already climbing the car. She stopped for a split second, glancing at the man. “Thank you.”

He didn’t look in her direction, his eyes fixed on the car as it rattled from the monster's movement. “I said leave!”

She did as she was told getting in the car as Michelle started to careen out of the parking garage and into the street almost before she could even close the door.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second they got outside Scott seemed to be better. Not fully back to his normal self, but on his way there. After a few minutes he was able to walk on his own and seemed to be fully coherent, so she left him to stand on the sidewalk while she went into a corner store to grab drinks and snacks before meeting him back outside.

“Here,” she said, handing him a bag of Doritos and a bottle of water. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got the standard.”

He mustered a weak smile, holding out the chips back to her. “I’ll just take the water, thanks.”

Gwen nodded, taking the bag back and they made their way over to a bus stop. He still seemed weak, so she made sure he was alright until he finally sat down. She debated on swinging them somewhere more quiet, but decided against it, not wanting to risk agitating whatever was wrong further.

“Are you alright?” she asked, echoing her question from earlier tonight.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I am,” he managed a stronger smile than before. “Blithe doesn’t seem to be fond of loud noises.”

“Oh, well, if you notice anything else Blithe doesn’t like let me know,” she said, jotting down the information he shared on her phone.

“Will do,” he said easily. “Why though?”

“Science, data,” she explained vaguely. Putting her phone back in her pocket.

“Ah I see. Trying to figure out the ins and outs of these symbiotes.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. “Symbiotes?”

“Ace suggested the name,” he said between sips of water. “I didn’t have the heart in the moment to tell him that his definition of symbiotic was wrong.”

She was even more curious about this now. “What was his definition?”

“Something about how they can harm you but can also help? I suggested harmonites cause I didn’t know that these things hurt you, but I’m pretty sure symbiotic relationships don't hurt each other either.”

“Well, if you think about it, a lot of symbiotic relationships require cooperation. Where if one doesn’t do their job the other can theoretically retaliate,” she argued, getting too into the biological process and starting to ramble. “Like a plover picking an alligator's teeth. The alligator could easily eat the plover but doesn’t because it’s being helped. If the plover stopped it probably would. Same with the opposite as if the alligator ate the plover, no other ones would come. Which is reminiscent of your situation in a decently accurate way.”

“I see,” he said amused. “This is why I’m not a scientist I guess.”

She deflated a little bit. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t have the brain for it, I guess,” it sounded like a question, but was more of a statement. “I’m better at feelings than I am at information.”

“Well, it’s good to know what your strengths are,” she said honestly.

“And my weaknesses,” he added, waving his hand towards her phone.

She smiled at that. “Very true.”

“It’s good enough for me to work closely to them at this point. You know, protecting them,” he said, wistfully. “I accepted that it wasn’t my calling a long time ago, but I still would like to be part of the process I guess. Even a relatively disconnected part. It makes me feel like I’m helping.”

“There are a lot of ways to help,” she offered.

“There are,” he agreed, smirking in a way that was more humble than confident. “But for now this is my way. Hopefully I can branch out soon.”

She had a feeling he was referencing crime fighting, even if she wasn’t. “Well, yeah. It’d be nice to have someone watching my back.”

With that they fell into a comfortable silence. Scott sipped his water as she munched on her chips. It was a cold fall night, but she felt warm for the first time in a while. She tapped the toe of her sneaker into the side of his to get his attention, smiling when he looked at her. Maybe she would take her friend's advice.

“What would you think about goi-”

She felt it before she heard it as her phone started vibrating and beeping in her pocket. She sighed, shooting Scott an apologetic smile before checking the device. She could only hope that it wasn’t serious as she opened the police scanner app.

“Remind me to put this on your phone,” she muttered as she listened to the radio.

“10-80 and a possible 11-60, requesting all units,” the nameless officer said, before the radio signal fizzled out.

An explosion and a potential attack? On Halloween? Even if Ace happened to be where the explosion was in this massive city, she knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to handle this. She shot Scott another apologetic look.

“Go,” he said simply. “I’ll try to catch up if I can.”

She nodded and darted off towards the direction of sirens.

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George rubbed his eyes in mild frustration before looking back at the document that his two detectives had presented him with feigned interest. He was tired of putting on this act every time these two stuck their nose in something that they couldn’t handle. Pretending that his decision to take them off cases was not from some source more in the know than even him, but he did it. Every time.

He glanced over their photos of the bloodsoaked crime scene before flipping the page to find a mugshot of the man of the hour. The picture caused him to do a double take before he found key differences, proving that this wasn’t a boy he once knew. Skin tone, jawline, eyebrows. All similar enough for a mistake, but very obviously different. He shook his head, resigning himself to needing a drink when he kicked his subordinates out.

While the charges of disorderly conduct and public intoxication were serious, he had been in this job long enough and had his views of justice shaken too many times to find them heinous. In his eyes, these were crimes of someone that had the potential to commit worse crimes if they didn’t pull their shit together, but not of someone who was beyond doing so.

“Why are you showing me this?” he said with a sigh, closing the folder and putting it back on his desk.

“Because something weird is going on. And right now he’s at the center of it.”

Of course that would be Watanabe’s answer. “Because his blood was found in an alleyway at a bar he was known to frequent?”

“Because that and he seemed to have walked off bleeding to death and assaulting five men and seven officers. In that order,” Watanabe answered, sliding the folder back towards him, as if to urge him to reread it.

He took a deep breath. He knew in their position he’d want to get to the bottom of this too. “So, let me get this straight. You think someone who has lost a lethal amount of blood successfully took out five hooligans and seven of our finest?” he argued sternly, not opening the document.

“With all due respect, sir,” Urich this time. “A woman with super strength swings around the city fighting lizard men and scientists with robot arms. What if something like that is happening again?”

He tightened his jaw, holding back a glare. “If there is, what makes you think you two are gonna make a difference?”

“If this scumbag,” Urich stated harshly, flipping open the folder to Ace's file. “Has abilities like that then we’re gonna have a lot more problems than when some old man or a damn teenag—”

“That’s enough!” he almost roared, standing up from his desk. He glared at the two detectives until they sat down in the chairs behind them. They had touched a sore subject and they knew it. “You are not to look into this Romero any more. He survived whatever happened that night just as much as our officers and those men did. He is lucky to be fine after such an ordeal and you will not bother him. If he has information about what happened, I will handle it personally. Do I make myself clear?”

“But—”

“Do I make myself clear?”

Watanabe put his hand on Urich’s arm, even if she didn’t look happy about it either. “Yes, Captain.”

He sat as they collected their things and walked out of the room. He took the file off his desk, opening it when they were no longer in his sight. He looked at the mugshot of the man, and sighed before he poured himself a glass of whiskey. He could only hope that Gwen was getting involved with this for the right reasons.

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He could barely keep Riot in check as it seemed to radiate with anticipation. It wanted him to fight this thing, but what Ace couldn’t figure out was why. Why had whoever was bonded to the nameless symbiote attacked some random people? Why did this symbiote seem so keen on fighting like Riot was as it pulled itself out from under the car? Why did this need to happen when he was supposed to be doing a favor for Gwen?

Not for the first time, he cursed himself and his need to pay his dues.

He allowed Riot to fully cover his body as the armored symbiote launched the car back at him. He caught it, claws sinking into the metal as he felt a second weight tackle him to the ground. The purple monster had wrapped its arms around his torso and began to squeeze, as the car fell to the side with a crash as it stood up, oil pooling around their feet. He clawed at its arms and slammed the back of his head into the creature's face to no avail as the dark purple plates prevented his attacks from causing damage. As he attacked the creature squeezed him between its arms and he felt his ribs begin to crack. Panicked, he generated spikes along his body, the force of which formed a small amount of space between him and the creature, but also caused the hug of death to crush him more. He launched a spear out of the back of his head towards the creature's face, disorienting it, before he completely withdrew Riot and slipped out of the monster's grasp before it could grab him again. He managed to get a few steps away before the purple symbiote composed itself enough to start chasing him, but it was too late. Ace reached down with a clawed hand, rending the cement and causing sparks to fly once he stepped out of the puddle of oil, causing it to ignite.

He sidestepped as the now melting symbiote charged out of the flames. The creature collapsed a few steps behind him and he took in a shaky breath as a humanoid figure was revealed inside. Ace brought a hand to his ribs and took in a deep breath, before coughing up blood. He took in light, quick breaths after that as to not disturb his injuries more as he approached the unknown symbiote host.

The pool of black and purple seemed to be weakly shifting in Ace’s direction as he looked at the man’s face, but all he could focus on were his blue eyes. They were lifeless, staring vacantly into space.

Had he killed him? The sight and thought made him feel sick. He closed his eyes, trying to take in a deep breath as he did to calm his nerves, but failing, coughing again.

When he opened his eyes again he saw the black and purple symbiote seemingly more solid, but still weak as it reached towards him. It reminded him of the piece of Riot that he had let reattach to his finger in the lab. Without thinking—or maybe due to an urging from his own symbiote—he reached down and touched it with his still clawed finger.

As Riot pulled the other symbiote into him a boom blew him off his feet. He slammed into the ground, dazed, as the reinvigorated flames from the car explosion blazed. He pushed himself up and cursed. He’s sure he’ll hear sirens soon. He limped his way towards the stairs and started climbing. He pulled out his phone—that now had a large dent in it but thankfully still worked—fumbling into his contacts in hopes that someone would come help him.

Chapter Text

The roof was too high for him to extend Blithe to get onto so he had to take the elevator. He tapped his foot nervously which caused his fellow passenger to shoot him a dirty look but he didn’t care. He gave the man what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but kept tapping away, unsure of what he would find when he got to the top of this building. Gwen had texted him an address, told him to go there, and any request at an explanation he sent had gone unread. He sighed as the elevator dinged and the other man got off. As the door started to close he made a split second decision and got off, choosing instead to take the stairs.

When he found the stairwell he extended his symbiote on thin wires, grabbing the railings of the floors above him and pulling himself up quickly. It felt weird whenever he did this. Like he was throwing something with a string attached to it, but the string was his arm—more specifically it felt like he had found a way to use his abilities in a way he wasn’t supposed to—but even through Blithe’s discomfort with the process it was too convenient not to do. He quickly scaled the building this way, landing at the top of the steps in front of the exit to the roof. He took a brief moment to hope that no one saw him, before opening the door.

He looked around, but saw no one. “Gwen?”

“Over here,” he heard her voice call. He saw his friend in her Ghost-Spider suit peek out from behind a small structure, a hand raised to beckon him over.

He began to walk over with quick steps. “What happened?”

She said nothing and tilted her head to the side. When he turned the corner he saw Ace unconscious, taking shallow breaths. He had soot on his face and he seemed to be shifting discontently in his sleep.

“What happened?” he repeated, panicked. He knelt down and took off his jacket, folding it and placing it under his friend's head.

“I don’t know. I found him passed out on the roof of a parking garage. The fire department was too busy putting out a car that exploded so no one seemed to notice him,” she said, peeling off her mask with a huff. “When I was swinging him here it felt like his ribs were broken.”

“Is there anything we can do about that?” he said shakily.

“Well, I can set them. I know you guys can heal faster than normal so I don’t know if it’s necessary,” she said trying to keep her tone flat but nerves seeping into voice. “But I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath to center himself. “How can I help?”

“Well,” she breathed out, running a hand through her hair with a reluctant sigh. “I need you to hold him down.”

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He pulled at his tie, trying to loosen it slightly but not enough to be noticeable. He wanted to take the damn thing off but he knew he wasn’t allowed. He wondered if his dad knew how slack he made it the second he got out of the car, if the fact that it practically swung around his neck as he walked around this stuck up school would bother him. He could almost hear the raving lecture about the audacity he had and how unprofessional it was. The thought alone frustrated him.

“Ace,” he heard his mother call from the front seat, causing him to look at her through the mirror in the sun visor. He watched as she took a hand off the steering wheel and tapped the base of her neck which prompted him to look down. He found that he had pulled his tie so slack it was almost completely undone, so he tightened it back up. “Gracias, mi amor.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, before looking out the window.

“He’s just gonna take it off when we get to school anyway,” his sister chimed in, smug voice getting under his skin. “He does it every day.”

“No I don’t,” he snapped defensively. “Leave me alone. You do the same thing.”

“I do the same thing?” his sister said, voice raising in pitch apparently deeply offended by the insinuation. “How fucking dare you!”

“Huh?” he exclaimed, more confused at the sudden escalation than anything else. He glanced at his parents to find them not paying the outburst any mind before looking at his sister to find her glaring, almost snarling, at him. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem!” she screamed in his face, making him twitch in rage. “Trying to throw me under the bus.”

“You just did the same thing!” he yelled back, getting in her face like she was getting in his. He wanted to hit something, so he slammed his fist down into the seat between them.

He felt a weight hit him as the car swerved. He heard his mother and sister yell out in protest and his own voice yelp in surprise. His dad came into view, having lunged at him from the front seat, grabbing him by the shirt and shaking him violently.

“How many times do I have to tell you this, huh?” his father roared. “How many times do I gotta tell you the same thing?”

He heard his mother pleading in Spanish for his father—not that the man understood the language—to stop. He was pretty sure he heard his sister begging in a similar way, but it fell on deaf rage-filled ears. Ace felt himself struggling against the hold, his shirt tearing at the shoulder as he slammed shaky balled fists into the older man's shoulders as his head rattled by the repeated impacts with the seat behind him.

“You’re old enough to get this through your head. You’re supposed to be a man!” the shaking, while still happening, became less aggressive. He could still feel the car swerving and hear his mothers cries. “I swear this is gonna be the last time I tell you this, ya hear me! Take it on your damn chin and shu-”

Ace’s eyes opened slowly and he lifted his head. He was cold and he had a crick in his neck. He gave a quick look around to find that he was sitting on a roof he was unfamiliar with. Weird, but not the weirdest place he had woken up. He took a deep breath and was relieved when he didn’t cough in pain. He took a second to rub his eyes and crack his neck before he stood and stretched, allowing his joints to crack as well.

He frowned to himself, almost glad he was alone so he could wallow. He didn’t like that dream but he tended to have it more often around this time of year, so in the end it is what it is. He tried to force the unpleasant memories out of his mind by looking for a way off the roof.

“Oh, Ace. Hey,” he turned to see Scott looking up from his phone towards him. “You’re up.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Yeah.”

Scott looked at him warily. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” he muttered, not even convincing himself.

Scott smiled sympathetically. “What happened?” his friend offered.

“Kinda spaced out,” he started flatly. “Riot took me somewhere. Found someone with a symbiote attacking some women. Saved them, fought the guy,” he brought his hand up to rub his temple. “I don’t know.”

Scott looked at him with a weird expression on his face. “Okay, I don’t want to downplay all that because it’s extremely important, but I was more asking about what’s bothering you.”

“That is what’s bothering me,” he said defensively, curling into his anger like a shield.

“Something’s been up since before tonight, Ace.”

“Mmm,” deflating almost immediately. “It’s uhh… the time of year, I think.”

“The time of year?” Scott echoed. “Like seasonal depression?”

“Mmm,” he hummed again, neither confirming nor denying the accusation. “It just gets me thinking about stuff I don’t want to.”

“Like what?” his friend broached hesitantly.

He let out a deep sigh. “Family,” he said, voice taut.

“I see,” Scott said, kind and understanding. “I’m here if you ever want to talk, you know.”

He was grateful the subject wasn’t pushed further than that. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

There was silence for a few minutes and the cold caused him to put his jacket that he had found lying around back on. The clothing itself was icy when he picked it up but after a few minutes it started to warm him.

“So,” he turned his head when Scott broke the silence. “You fought someone with a symbiote?”

“Mmm,” he murmured in agreement, but didn’t want to talk about it again. At least not when he was sure he would need to explain it to Gwen too. “What were you up to all night?”

“I went to see Gwen play,” Scott said simply, picking up on his request to change the subject. “I was surprised you weren’t there, but I guess you were fighting crime or something.”

“I wish I could’ve gone,” he said, a pang of petty jealousy hitting his stomach which caused his head to scream in protest. His hands shot to his temples at the pain. It felt like when Riot attacked him when he was scared the first few times. He couldn’t see or hear anything, his body seizing up as his breath caught in his throat for a few moments before it passed.

“-ce? Ace? Are you good?”

“Y-Yeah,” he managed out shakily. “I’m good.”

“What was that? Did Riot attack you?”

“No,” he mumbled, covering his forearm with purple armor-like plates. “That was Phage.”

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“Then the guy came out of the flames and collapsed and Phage… detached from him?” Ace said, looking down at the table before scratching his head. He looked like he had more to say but didn’t want to say it.

“And?” Gwen prodded, this was important, especially with the situation she knew he was already in. “What else?”

“I uh… Whoever the guy was was dead,” she let him sigh this once without getting annoyed. “I… did I kill him?”

She looked at him, remorseful that she put him in this situation. She wouldn’t say it but she knew exactly how he felt. “If you did, you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, looking over towards Scott who had walked into the breakroom in search of coffee after claims of a headache. “I just… wish it was different, and it scares me to think that might happen to us.”

“What do you mean?”

There was a pause. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but when Phage attached to me I got bits and pieces,” he said, trying to carefully choose his words. “Whoever was the former host felt whatever emotion it didn’t like too much,” he said with another sigh. “And that was the breaking point.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Is that why you wanted to come here? Do you wanna do more tests?”

He looked more apologetic than she thought he was capable of. “Yeah…”

“Fine,” she said with a sigh. It was three in the morning which was really her only gripe with the situation. “But you need to eat first, I’m not having you pass out when I draw your blood,” she told him, gesturing to his untouched container of food.

“I told you I’m not hungry,” he said, picking up a piece of chicken and taking a bite.

She watched as his expression went from spiteful disagreement to that of a starving animal in an instant as he started scarfing down the food in front of him. When he finished with the dish he took the packets of sauce out of the bag before emptying them into his mouth as his eyes shifted from red to purple to brown. She pushed her own food towards him and he instinctively started eating it too. When there was no food left he seemed to snap out of some kind of trance, before looking hesitantly at her.

“What the hell was that?” she exclaimed, disgusted by the display, but too curious to do anything else but ask.

“I uhh… Haven’t eaten in three days?” he questioned, obviously embarrassed.

If there was an expression that conveyed ‘you’re an idiot’ she knew she had it on her face. “Why?”

“Haven’t been hungry,” he said, seemingly dissatisfied with his own answer.

She sighed, running a hand down her face. “Ace, I get that you’re broke but you need to eat.”

“I’m serious,” he said, obviously annoyed by the accusation. “I haven’t been hungry. I thought Riot was making it so that I wasn’t!”

“Scott!” she called towards the other room causing him to stick his head out of the door. “Have you noticed any changes in appetite?”

“Oh uh,” he said thinking. “I noticed that when I’m hungry and don’t have a chance to eat for a while it kinda just goes away? Does that help?”

She looked back at Ace to see him look relieved and almost smug. The audacity. “Told you.”

“Well you're the idiot who thought that meant you didn’t need to eat,” she said exasperated. “You know, one of the most basic functions of life!”

That got him to roll his eyes. “Mmm.”

“‘Mmm’” she hummed back mockingly, causing him to actually bite his tongue. “No, go ahead. Say what’s on your mind right before I stick you with a needle.”

“No,” he grumbled, seemingly holding back a grin. She could swear his eyes turned purple for a split second. “I don’t think I will.”

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He watched as after Ace's blood was drawn the man crawled on top of a nearby table and went to sleep. Scott quirked an amused eyebrow at the action, before walking over to Gwen as she looked into a microscope. He leaned up against the counter and watched as she stifled a yawn, which caused him to crack a smile.

“Good morning,” he joked, passing over a coffee he had brewed.

“Morning,” she echoed, grabbing the drink and taking a sip. “Thanks.”

“You seeing anything interesting?”

“Well,” she said, sounding stumped. “The purple and red symbiotes seem to be attracted to each other but the yellow one is staying away. I don’t understand why.”

“I have the yellow one, while Ace has the other two,” he said simply. “Maybe they need to be attached to a host to join together?”

“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe.”

“They’re smarter than you think,” he offered, feeling Blithe’s appreciation at the compliment. “Maybe they’re just making the choice not to cause they don’t feel safe?”

“That could be,” she said, gnawing at her lower lip. “Can you reach your hand towards the dish?”

“Sure,” he said nonchalantly. “Where?”

He held out his hand which she grabbed gently and guided towards the disk. He smiled as she furrowed her brows. “What is it?”

“The purple and red one,” she said, looking away from the device and towards him before she corrected herself. “Phage and Riot are avoiding your hand while Blithe seems to be reaching towards you.”

“Is that bad?”

“No,” she admitted with a sigh. “It’s just… Ace said that the purple one was reaching towards him so different things are happening at different times.”

“Right,” he said, bringing a hand up to his chin in thought. He raked his mind for an explanation before it hit him. “Did I ever tell you how I met Ace?”

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “No, why. Is that relevant?”

“We met in that sandwich shop,” he reminded her. She thought for a minute before she nodded in remembrance. “When I saw him I kinda felt like I needed to go talk to him.”

“Uhuh,” she said, raising an eyebrow. She didn’t get what he was trying to say.

“It was like…” he trailed off, trying to find the words. “I was drawn towards him? Don’t give me that look. In retrospect I think it was Blithe that nudged me in his direction. Like how he was saying Riot was leading him towards Phage. I could swear I felt his confusion at the time,” he smiled as his symbiote almost purred at the memory. “Maybe they can tell where the others are, and whether their hosts are… around or not.”

“Right, well,” she said, seemingly calculating in her head. After a moment she nodded in understanding. “A sixth sense could explain it. I know enough about those to understand what you mean.”

“Of course,” he beamed back. “So, should I touch the piece of Blithe or not yet?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “I’m gonna clean up then we’re leaving. I’ll look at the data tomorrow or when I come back to the office and let you know what I find. You two are also gonna need to test them on your own. I’ll come up with what you should do but looking at the structure of these things will only tell us so much. Can you take the dish and bring it to Ace and get him up?”

“No problem,” he said, grabbing it from under the microscope and feeling the extra piece of symbiote attach itself to him.

He walked across the room and placed the glass object next to his sleeping friend and watched as the symbiote inside launched itself at the man's neck, seeping into his skin. Honestly, he knew if he saw that a few weeks ago he’d think that was disgusting, but now it was oddly comforting. He tapped the other man on the shoulder, before shaking him when he didn’t get up.

“Hey,” he said finally when Ace seemed to have stirred. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Mmm? Oh,” his friend responded, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Damn, I gotta get home.”

“Where do you live?”

“Far-ish,” Ace muttered with a frown. “If I jump the rail it shouldn’t take too long.”

The thought of a friend taking the train at this hour didn’t sit right with him. “You could stay at my place if you want.”

Ace seemed to be trying to process the offer through his tiredness. “I’m good.”

He should’ve expected that answer. “I know you don’t like owing people but it’s also five am. It's really not imposing if I offer.”

He watched as his friend mulled it over again, before sighing. “Fine.”

Scott felt himself smile. “Good.”

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While he’d been on the roof of the building he didn’t really know what to expect about the inside. What he found was something he probably should’ve known but ultimately shocked him. Everything Scott had looked expensive. Not excessively so to the point where someone was flaunting their wealth, but too nice to be anything but costly. “Didn’t you say you were a security guard?”

“At the L.I.F.E. Foundation, yeah,” was the simple response he got. “Why?”

He took a couple hesitant steps forward. While it wasn’t as nice as Gwen's place it was definitely on the level. The thought made him feel inadequate and with that a sharp pain wracked his mind. He tried to push the thoughts away, but couldn’t, standing in the middle of the cause of his jealousy. All he could do was try not to let the pain show on his face. “N-Nice place.”

“Thanks?” Scott responded, sounding worried. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” he said, unconvincingly, scrambling for an excuse and coming up with one that was far from the truth. “I uhh… just remembered I have a job interview tomorrow so I need to go home.”

“You haven’t found a job yet?”

“I have a hard time getting hired,” he explained, swallowing and closing his eyes tightly from the panging in his skull. That at least was true.

“Okay,” his friend said, thankfully not pushing the subject more. “Do you want me to call you a cab or an uber or something?”

“Stop trying to help me,” he snapped, reveling in the feeling as his jealousy shifted to a familiar anger causing Phage’s violent protests to stop as Riot writhed in pleasure. “I don’t need it.”

Scotts eyes widened in surprise, before he frowned. “...Okay.”

Guilt panged in his chest as he stormed past the man and walked out of the apartment.

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She manipulated Agony’s form away from her face so that she could feel the cool night air on her face as she panted. She stood over the monster's body as its orange and black form melted away to reveal the body of another woman. She felt like she was going to be sick.

Regret kept her stuck in place as she watched the ichor surrounding the other woman stretch itself in her direction, almost pleading for her to take a hold of it. To which after a moment of contemplation she almost unconsciously obliged.

She heard police sirens as the being was absorbed into her form and fear overtook her as she glanced at the very dead body in front of her. Luckily, it seemed that fear is exactly what she needed as the newly acquired Lasher responded almost immediately. She let it overtake her form as orange and black wings sprouted from her back. She ran to the edge of the building and jumped, catching a draft and gliding above the city lights.

Chapter Text

Ace stared at the note on the door like it was the source of every problem he ever had in his life. The bold red letters mocked him. It made him want to rip the door off the hinges. To raze this entire rat infested building to the ground. Riot seemed to like the idea, roiling in delight as he balled his fist at his side. Maybe he would do it, maybe he would give in and be the piece of shit his dad always said he was. He had the power to take what he wanted, and who would stop him? Gwen? Scott? He doubted they even knew what an eviction notice looked like. Who would they be to judge him if-

The feeling of what he could only assume was Phage trying to tear his brain in half ripped him away from his thoughts.

Dazed, he ripped the note from the door, walked into his apartment, threw himself onto his pull out couch and forced himself to fall asleep.

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Scott woke with a headache. It struck him as odd as he hadn’t drank much last night, and he’d been completely sober for a while before he got home. He frowned as he made his way to his kitchen and got a glass of water before digging through his medicine cabinet for some Aspirin. He popped two in his mouth before looking out of his window over the city, taking slow sips of his drink as he let his mind wander back to last night. As much as it hurt to admit and do, he decided that after sending a reassuring text he’d give Ace some space. As he walked over to his phone he considered how to exactly word it only to be pleasantly surprised when the screen lit up as he read a text from Gwen that simply stated, Hey.

He feels his frown flip into a smile. What’s up? He types back.

Do you want to go out tonight? She replies simply before another text follows. Not like that!!!

He furrowed his eyebrows in amusement. Like what then?

There was a pause before another message popped up. Like, the reason we met kind of way?

Ace? He typed out confused.

After a moment the word No followed by a second text of Can I call you? appeared on his screen

Sure He typed simply and after a moment he picked up his phone when it started ringing.

“Hello?” Gwen's voice came hesitantly through the phone.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“I’m not a fan of putting Ghost-Spider matters in writing so I thought I’d try to use a code but I guess you didn’t pick up on it.”

“Ah, okay,” he said, pausing briefly to think. “So you want me to help you go on patrol?”

“Tonight, yeah,” she confirmed, almost sheepishly. “I found where a certain crime boss has been held up and was gonna go in tonight before he moves. I can handle it myself but it’d be nice to have someone watching my back. Plus, it’s not so crazy dangerous for your first real outing.”

“I have work tonight,” he said, disappointed by his own answer. “If it was tomorrow I could.”

“Oh, well, alright,” she said, the tone in her voice thoughtful. “If you want to come I can just scout it tonight.”

“If you don’t mind waiting,” he said, cracking a half smile even though she couldn’t see.

“I don’t mind at all,” she said, seeming excited at the prospect. “It’s a date!”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. This was her idea of a date?

She seemed to have realized what she said after his lack of response. “Not a date! Not what I meant,” he could hear her embarrassment.

“Okay, good,” he said, relieved that that wasn’t what she meant. “Our first date is gonna be something nicer than going after a crime boss.”

There was another pause and he almost regretted what he said. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Gwen? You there?”

“Y-Yeah,” she sounded flustered. “I’ll uhh… I gotta get to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” he said, the half smile on his face turning into a fond one. “Talk to you later.”

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“Dr. Gwen Stacy.”

Her glasses almost fell off her nose as she looked up and quickly closed the diagrams and wireframe recreations of the so named symbiotes that displayed on her screen. She was so engrossed that her spider sense only barely went off.

“Y-Yes?” she stuttered, leaning back and acting natural in the hopes to regain some modicum of self respect in the eyes of… who was this again?

“Dr. Gwen Stacy,” the woman repeated. “Mr. Osborn is requesting to speak with you.”

“Oh, well, okay,” she said, grabbing her laptop. She debated on locking it in her desk but the mystery woman’s judgment filled eyes made her choose to carry it with her. “Do you know what this is about?”

This woman looked her up and down before slightly pursing her lips. She turned and started leading her towards Harry’s office. “No,” the woman drawled, seemingly disapproving.

So much for trying to be polite.

Gwen silently followed this person who she assumed was either Harry’s business associate or secretary down the hall before they stopped in front of her aforementioned boss's office. The unnamed woman opened the door and they both walked into the large space. Gwen saw Harry speaking in hushed tones to an unfamiliar woman with graying hair and a white pantsuit at the head of a long conference table. After a moment, Harry seemed to notice them.

“Ah, thank you Penni,” he said graciously. “Please, go take a break. This conversation may take a while.”

“Yes, sir,” the woman Gwen was now sure was his secretary said, bowing her head slightly before exiting with one last glare at her.

She was confused when Harry shook her from her thoughts. “Gwen! Come join us.”

Gwen nodded politely before walking up to the pair, taking a seat in the seat across from the new mystery woman. Slight wrinkles pulled at the older woman's tanned face as she smiled calmly in her direction causing her crows feet to crinkle. Gwen briefly forced a polite smile back.

“Leslie Gesneria,” the older woman introduced herself. Standing and offering a hand to shake over the table.

“Gwen Stacy,” she said, standing immediately after she had just sat to shake the offered hand, after which she awkwardly sat back down.

“Well,” Harry said, breaking the silence that had settled on the three of them for a moment. “Let’s get right to business then. Gwen, I hate to put you on the spot, but have you made a decision about the project?”

Oh yeah, that. “Oh, well, I uhh… I’ve been kinda busy so I haven’t thought about it too much. But the fact that I can’t know anything about it until I agree—”

“You don’t know anything about the project?” Leslie interjected.

Gwen looked at her, surprised, before slowly shaking her head.

“Darling,” Leslie continued, directing her words towards Harry. “You need to tell her what’s at stake here.”

He sighed. “Ms. Gesneria, you know I can’t have this information getting out. There’s a reason your NDA has such a heavy toll attached.”

The older woman gave him an unimpressed look before turning her attention towards Gwen. “Before you came in here he described you as extremely smart and even more trustworthy. I’m sure it would be fine to tell you, but please, continue with your answer. I apologize for cutting you off.”

Gwen stared at her blankly, before continuing. She wanted to get out of here. “...I don’t …I don’t think I can do it right now. Sorry, Harry.”

“That’s alright, Gwen,” he said nonchalantly before sighing in disappointment. “I appreciate that you considered it. You can go, sorry for the interruption.”

Gwen nodded before quickly standing. She pushed her chair in and made it two steps away before she heard Leslies voice. “See, Harry. This is what happens when you don’t tell people you’re dying.”

Gwen, halfway into her third step, stopped moving.

She turned around and sat back down in her chair. “You’re dying, Harry?”

He was quiet for a moment. “...Yes. It’s the disease that my father died of. It’s genetic,” he sounded as exhausted as she felt. “There’s no cure and no treatment. I didn’t want to tell you because this job is supposed to be secret, and I didn’t want that to sway your decision.”

She was silent for a long time. Probably inappropriately so, but she honestly didn’t care as mantras about responsibility played in her head. She thought about Ace and all his issues that she wanted to help with, only partly in the sense of him being a super powered being. She thought of Scott and how she needed to show him more of the ropes and to teach him that being a hero wasn’t only fighting people, even if she doesn’t think that’s going to be much of an issue for him. She thought of her dad and her brothers and the last time she saw them. She thought of The Mary Janes and her regular workload and helping people all over the city as the words ‘I can’t help you, I’m sorry’ formed in her throat.

Her shoulders slumped as she thought of Peter.

“Okay,” she said, utterly defeated. “I’ll help.”

Chapter Text

She’ll help? She’ll help? What the hell was she thinking? She didn’t have time for this. And to make it worse they want her to start working on this project at night on top of her regular shift. She rubbed her hand over her masked face in frustration, partially wishing that she didn’t agree to wait for the next night, to be able to get some of this frustration out on the criminals she was surveying. But if she was going to be more busy than she was going to need Scott to be ready to pick up some slack…

Gwen crawled silently along the steel rafters that held up the flat roof of the warehouse, getting a better view of Hammerhead who paced back and forth, monitoring his own men. Hammerhead stood tall and broad shouldered in his shark grey suit—a little on the nose for her, a reason she preferred Ghost-Spider—with his brown hair trimmed unnaturally to highlight the flatness of his forehead. His lackeys—twenty here, she had counted, although working in shifts—were moving unmarked boxes into a truck, and at the rate they were going it seemed like it would take them a few more days to move them all, which was her only silver lining. One less thing she needed to worry about.

It would be good for Scott to be here tomorrow. To learn while she still had the chance to teach, but she couldn’t help but be cautious. Throwing him into the deep end could teach him to swim, but in this line of work sinking was just as easy.

She scanned the building one last time, noting the doors and windows when she noticed a closed latch on the skylight. Leaning on her toes she shot a web, with which she pulled, unlocking the window for tomorrow. She then crawled towards the way she had entered, waiting for the right moment before silently dropping to the ground, walking out the door, and swinging into the night.

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“Mornin’, Scotty,” a familiar voice and sound of a door opening grabbed his attention. He turned to the sight of his replacement with two paper cups of coffee in his hands.

“Goodmorning, Henry,” Scott replied with a smile, hand out to accept as the older man passed the drink to him. “How was your Halloween?”

“Good, good,” Henry said, nodding. “Trick-or-treaters and the like, all good fun. My daughter got into some trouble, as per usual.”

“Did she ever find those contacts?”

“None as good as yours.”

“Sorry that I couldn’t remember where I got them from. I looked but I came up with nothing.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” the older man said, half smiling before jokingly saying. “Now up off my chair!”

Holding his hands up in an amused surrender, Scott complied. “Alright, alright.”

Scott stood leaning up against the desk and Henry sat. Scott glanced over at the clock to find that he still had some time left in his shift, so he decided he’d meander to get those pennies owed before clocking out.

“So,” he started, not really sure where he was going to take the conversation. “Heard any daytime rumors that this night guard would want to hear?”

“Not much,” Henry mused, taking a sip of his coffee. “I think a janitor got fired or somethin’, but that’s all I know.”

Huh, weird. “A daytime janitor?”

“Nah,” Henry shook his head. “Night shift.”

Scott furrowed his brow, surprised he hadn’t heard about it. There was only one night shift janitor on the clock at a time. He expected them to be trying to fill the spot quickly. “I see. I wonder what happened. Do you know who it was? Why they got fired?”

“Edward or somethin’?” Henry shook his head again, before shrugging. “Never met the kid. Apparently he just disappeared off the schedule. Maybe he stole somethin’.”

The way he said that made it seem specific. “Why do you think that?”

“Boss said the kid was trouble,” Henry shrugged again, taking another nonchalant sip from his cup. “Had a record or somethin’. Tried to talk the big boss Hernandez out of hiring him, but he was set on it. Maybe he had connections?”

Scott shrugged at that, finally taking a sip from the cup in his hand. “I see,” he said, arching his eyebrows. “I think I better head home. Thanks for the tea.”

“That’s coffee,” Henry said, confused.

“No, I meant,” Scott started, an amused smirk gracing his face as he looked at Henry’s furrowed, wispy white eyebrows. “Never mind.”

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Ace couldn’t move when he woke. His mouth was dry, as he stared at the chipped ceiling paint. His head felt empty, not of thoughts, but of liquid as a pit formed in his stomach. He slowly balled his hand, gripping the worn sheet that he laid on. Fucking hell, he still had his jacket on. He shakily pushed himself up to sit, before shifting to put his feet on the floor. He let his jacket fall off his arms as he stood, almost falling over in the process. He caught himself on his wall—the apartment’s wall, he corrected—steadying himself. He took off his jeans and shirt, leaving him in a tank top and his boxers before riding the wall towards the only other room in the apartment—the bathroom. When he made it inside, he laid his head in the sink and turned it on, gulping down mouthfuls of the chlorine and dirt flavored liquid. Water had never tasted as good as it did right now, not even after the worst hangover, and after he deemed that he drank enough he stayed under the water as it ran.

‘I should shower,’ he thought, finally lifting his head from the sink. ‘Then figure out what I’m doing.’

He stared at himself in the rust stained mirror, unblinking, unmoving, as memories started to flood his head. Memories of Halloween, both this most recent and many past… of the body’s that lie still because of him…

He leaned over the toilet and began to vomit, until he dropped to his knees. Until he started kicking his legs, trying to gasp for air as more and more bile and bits of chicken choked him. Tears welled in his eyes, from guilt or the act of puking he did not know, but would later assume it was both as the image of bodies, both named and unnamed clawed against his mind.

As Gwen’s affirmation of innocence played alongside the memories he laid on the cold, cracked tile of the bathroom floor and decided that he deserved everything he was getting.

Chapter Text

George let out another sigh as he ran his fingers over his graying blonde mustache before signing another document. The post Halloween paperwork he was doing was grating on him more and more as these last two days ticked by, but it was a necessary part of the job. Taking a deep breath, he dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair. He briefly rubbed his eyes, opening them to the sight that made him want to rub them again, but this time in annoyance. On his monitor he saw footage of Urich and Wantanabe approaching his office with a file and smug satisfaction on their faces. Fantastic.

George let his shoulders sag with an exhale as his two detectives waltzed in like they owned the place without so much as a knock. He stared at the two blankly as Watanabe tossed the file onto the desk in front of him.

“Captain,” Urich said with a smile, most likely noticing the annoyance that plagued his boss.

“Urich,” George acknowledged. “What has you barging into my office this evening?”

At least the man had the sense to try to look sheepish at that. “This is about David Amadeus—“

“And Ace Romero,” Watanabe interjected impatiently but with an ‘I told you so’ in her voice that just rubbed him the wrong way.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave that man be?” George said sternly.

“We did,” Watanabe said smugly, reaching over to open the file and pointing to a specific page. “But after casing the scene the only blood found near the spot of David Amadeus’ murder matched with—”

“Romero,” Urich confirmed.

George looked at the file and saw that what they said was true. He stifled a sigh as he flipped through the loose pages, before standing with a stern look. “The autopsy didn’t come back yet, we don’t know if it was a murder. But you’re right, we need to question Romero. Put an ATL out on him, but if he’s found, notify me. No arrest is necessary as of now and I’d like to question him personally. Do I make myself clear?”

Watanabe looked annoyed and opened her mouth to speak but Urich beat her to it. “Crystal, boss, we’ll get right on it.” Urich then nodded and tapped Watanabe’s shoulder before turning heel and leaving.

“Of course, Captain,” Watanabe said begrudgingly before following suit.

When they were gone George sat back down with a heavy sigh, poured himself a glass of whisky, took a sip, and called his daughter, wondering if he should just put out the ATL himself.

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“So, what do you think they’re doing?”

Gwen jumped at the question, head turning to find Scott completely covered by his symbiote—she has to admit that it has a nice ring to it—two voices speaking at once. She’s still not used to that, or the fact that he and Ace are able to sneak up on her.

She looked back across the lot to the warehouse with a light shake of her head. “It looks like they’re moving boxes.”

“I mean yeah,” Scott said, seemingly not picking up the sarcasm. “But like, what do you think are in the boxes? Guns? Drugs?”

“Lightsabers?” She offered.

“That’d be cool,” Scott said, amused.

“It would be,” Gwen said, smiling under her mask. “But I wouldn’t be too keen on fighting them if that's what they have.”

“Yeah, same.” Scott seemed to think for a second before he spoke again. “So, what’s the plan?

“Well, there are some skylights on the roof,” Gwen said, pointing towards them. “We can sneak in through there and try to knock out as many as we can before they notice us. Then it’s a brawl.”

“What if they try to run?” Scott asked.

“I’ll chase them down if it comes to that since I have an easier time getting around. If that happens just worry about securing the warehouse,” she said, standing up fully and walking towards the edge of the roof. “And remember, fake names.”

“Right, spider,” Scott said.

“Yes, Hybrid?”

“No I was…” Scott tilted his head to the side. “Are you making fun of me?”

She shrugged her shoulders as she stood on the edge of the building leaning backwards, before falling and swinging through the air. She twisted her body before pulling herself onto her destined roof, peering through the window that would be their entrance as Scott landed behind her with a less than graceful—but thankfully not too loud—thud.

She gave him a look that she knew through her mask was unreadable, but she gave it anyway.

“Sorry…” She heard him whisper and she smiled as she pried the skylight open.

“After you, Hybrid.”

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“This was… easier than I thought it would be,” Scott said, his two voices echoing in the now quiet warehouse.

“Yeah,” he heard Gwen agree. “It doesn’t seem like Hammerhead was here unfortunately. Also, it's good to find out you’re bulletproof.”

“Yeah… good to know but a bit scary to find out.” Scott agreed. He had gotten shot twice, while the bullet didn't go through, Blithe had started to seemingly boil. He was pretty sure a few more shots and he would’ve been toast. “Although my arm does hurt like hell.”

“So it doesn’t absorb the whole shock then.”

“No,” Scott said. “I’m just glad the noise didn’t bother Blithe too much.”

“Yeah, that is good.” Gwen agreed, before looking left and right as if to check if the coast was clear. “So…” she leaned in and covered her mouth like she was telling him a secret, “wanna look in the boxes?”

“Sure,” Scott said with a nod, taking a step over an unconscious criminal towards the nearest unmarked box. As he reached out to open it, he hesitated, looking back towards Gwen. “Wait, wouldn’t this be tampering with a crime scene?”

Gwen shrugged at him, before stepping next to him and tore open the box. “It’s not really a crime scene yet. Plus, vigilantism is already illegal.”

Scott looked in the box to see a second box inside. With a sigh, Gwen pried open the second box and moved the packaging to eventually find what seemed to be a pane of glass, which seemed to give her pause.

“What is it?” Scott asked.

Instead of answering, Gwen tore the outer box to get a clear view of the interior box, only to see the OSCORP logo plastered right in the center.

“How did they get a hold of this?” Gwen seemed to think out loud, before she looked around at the other boxes, before shooting a web and opening a second to the same sight. “Why is there so much?”

“What is it?” Scott asked again.

Gwen looked at him. “It’s basically a super durable glasslike material that OSCORP developed to contain extremely dangerous people. Do you remember that Doc Ock guy from a few years ago?”

“Yeah,” Scott said with a nod, having a vague memory of the terror the scientist had caused.

“Well, he’s in a cell made from this stuff, but it was made more for people with superstrength. People like—”

“People like us?” Scott said, thinking of Ace even if it made him feel guilty. The reaction Ace had had to the sight of his apartment two nights ago was still in the back of his head.

“Well, essentially,” Gwen said as she folded her arms, her head drooping slightly, “I just didn’t know OSCORP was making more. Or why…”

Scott felt a pit in his stomach as his head started to hurt, only for the sensation to be interrupted by Gwen jumping slightly and bringing her hand up to her ear.

“Hello?” Gwen asked, still holding her ear, turning and taking a few steps away. “Yes. What’s going on?”

Scott stood awkwardly. He could only assume she had gotten a call. “Spider?”

Gwen put up a single digit before continuing to speak. “No, I haven’t seen him. Damnit, yeah I know what you’re talking about. Well… shit. Yeah, I’ll deal with it. Thanks. Sorry.” She tapped her ear before turning to him. “Have you spoken to… the reason we met?”

After their recent conversation he was able to pick up on this particular phrase, even if it still caused him to pause for a second. “Not since Halloween.”

“Well, shit, okay,” Gwen said. “Uhh, something’s happening and I gotta go find him. You finish up here and call the cops, alright?”

“Okay,” Scott said, confused. “Should I come with? What’s happening?”

“This isn’t really a good spot to explain, and I move faster than you,” Gwen said, and he found himself agreeing. “I’ll fill you in later.”

“Okay,” he nodded reluctantly.

Gwen gave him two thumbs up before shooting webs on both sides of the skylight and immediately launching herself through the open window. Bewildered and unsure of what to do, Scott began to look around, gathering up the unconscious thugs' weapons and putting them in a pile. Should he just call the police now?

About halfway through the process, the sound of two pieces of metal slamming into each other rang through the warehouse. Scott turned and cautiously made his way past the boxes towards the source of the sound, only to be met with the sight of a door. Cautiously, he formed a hand on the end of his arm—Blithes usual form has the yellow part of the symbiote covering both hands fully in rounded tips, something he still needs to remind himself to get used to—and turned the handle.

He was met with the sight of a man in a gray suit with his head resting on an old, rusty office desk with scattered papers and an old lamp. The man seemed to be breathing deeply, and Scott couldn’t tell if he was out of breath or sick.

“Um, sir?” Scott asked cautiously. Even if this was a criminal he deserved medical attention if he needed it. “Are you okay?”

The man didn’t respond, but the pace of his breath slowed. Scott watched as the man slowly sat up, revealing his unnaturally flat forehead that was put even more on display by the way his brown hair framed it. Hammerhead—Scott now recognized by Gwen’s earlier description—was staring at him with an anger that rivaled Ace’s on his worst day, and the sight made him gulp.

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Gwen landed on the roof of the building across the street from Ace’s apartment, perching on the end of it only to catch a glimpse of Urich and Watanabe walking through the front entrance. She cursed under her breath, before silently launching herself across the street, perching herself on the wall next to Ace’s window, thanking her past self for having the foresight to figure out which apartment was his the night they met.

She put her face to the glass of his window, looking into the small, mostly empty apartment, to find it… more empty than it should be? While there’s a possibility of Ace being out, she remembers some newspapers and things being scattered about when she had last seen it…

As soon as the front door started to open and the light from the hall illuminated the apartment Gwen leaned away from the window. She silently watched as Watanabe and Urich entered, guns drawn, as they shouted for Ace to show himself. When nothing happened, Watanabe moved towards the only door in the apartment as Urich watched her back, before joining her. Urich opened the door as Watanabe entered.

“Clear.” She heard Watanabe say in obvious frustration.

“Fuck this guy,” Urich said as Watanabe left the bathroom. “Who even leaves their apartment before their eviction goes through. He knew he had something to run for.”

Gwen remembered the wad of cash Ace left at the bar and her stomach turned uncomfortably. Taking extra care to be silent, she climbed above the window and closed her eyes, focusing on her already enhanced hearing to get a clearer understanding of the words that the two detectives spoke.

“We’ll get him,” Watanabe said, Gwen could tell the woman was nodding in assurance. “I guess we’ll do what that old coward wants with that ATL.”

“Yeah… I’ll put it in.” She heard Urich sigh. “He can’t’ve been gone for long.”