Well. It's been... a while. I haven't written any fanfiction in a long, long time, and a lot of that has to do with some pretty bad stuff that's been going on, especially over the past few months. I'm sorry for that. I do plan on getting back to at least a few old stories, but for the moment I've been inspired to write my first-ever crossover! This chapter kind of... blew up. I didn't intend for it to be 7K but well, that's what happened. The other chapters probably won't be this long... Either way, please enjoy. I'm really sorry for all of the silence.

Fending off criminals after catching up on homework was a pretty neat pattern to fall into, and the shiny new super suit Mr. Stark had given him only sweetened the deal. Well, it wasn't actually shiny, of course. Red, though. Very red. And new. And so amaz—this was getting off-topic.

It would have been neat, if it actually panned out that way. As it turned out, big incidents like what went on with Vulture tended to deter crime for a little while as things settled, so there wasn't much for the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man to do in terms of heroism. That didn't stop him from pulling on the suit whenever he found even the smallest of excuses. There were some days he'd pull on the mask while just lounging around his room. It was a confidence booster, knowing that Mr. Stark made it specially for him—and it may have shot up his ego quite a bit.

Day in and day out he never expected to find much during his rounds. Sticking to small crime in the neighbourhood was good and all, but it meant that most strolls through the streets came up empty. Not that he could complain. In recent weeks the most he'd dealt with was a break-and-enter.

Peter yawned, walking down the current side-street he was patrolling with a slow gait. The sun wasn't up yet, with the first strains of light just beginning to peek out from behind the horizon clouds. It had been a long night of tossing and turning in bed and when he saw the clock at 5am he decided at that point the effort was futile and a morning walk through the city might help clear his mind a bit before class. Five was that strange, surreal hour of the morning where even criminals mostly cleared out and packed it in on those residential streets. The main hub of the city never slept, but his area sure did. Sleeping, which was where he should have been. He was too groggy to aim properly, and while trying to stick a web he'd fallen from the roof. It hadn't, uh… stuck. Properly. So there would be no more of that this early in the morning, and he was stuck with the decidedly boring option of walking around instead of swinging. On the ground. What a crappy morning.

It was the route to school. He would have gone straight there after completing his walk if he hadn't forgotten, well, everything back at his place including his backpack and a change of clothes. With a grunt he spun on his heel and slipped down the alleyway to his left, figuring he could cut the distance back home, pick up all the crap he needed, and hang around until class. Breakfast might be nice, though. Breakfast was a nice detour. Of course then he had to worry about Aunt May walking in on him suited up at the kitchen table. He'd been able to play it off to her once before but didn't feel he'd be able to get by with a flimsy explanation a second time. Taking the suit off when he got home was also an option, but it was just such a pain…

He stopped, glancing up at the grungy brick wall that made up half of the alley. A larger-than-life painting greeted him from near the roof, a crude mess of colourful lines that maybe could have been Cap's shield? Or, he didn't know, maybe like… a grapefruit? Modern art was so confusing. Anyway, he could still smell the spray paint in the air so it wouldn't have been long since it was put there. A momentary thought soon found him gripping to the wall with his fingers and toes, climbing his way up until he hung next to the fresh masterpiece. His left hand hovered over one of the lines, hanging there as he fought with himself. He wanted to see if it was still wet, to see if maybe he could catch the guy who put it there; it was still pretty dark and there weren't exactly street lamps down the alley. But at the same time, he worried it would take forever for him to get stains from the paint out of his suit, and he really didn't want to go ruin the suit he'd been given…

Well, it wasn't like anyone got hurt.

Peter leapt down, hitting the ground near-silently. With a short stretch he continued on down the alley and across the next street into another, and… there it was again. Graffiti. There were two pieces this time, each a fair amount smaller than the first with a few less colours. These definitely were fresh, the little bit of sunlight that he had glinting off of the wet sheen of the paint. Alright, alright. That's two buildings this guy defaced. One he maybe could have forgiven. Maybe. If only because he saw no sign of the vandal. But now he couldn't ignore it.

"At least make good graffiti. Is—is that supposed to be a giraffe or like, some sort of wasp?"

Shaking his head he climbed up the wall and onto the roof where he perched on the ledge, crouching low as he overlooked the area. Nothing his eyes could catch. "Karen?"

"Yes?" He was so happy Mr. Stark gave back the same A.I. when he gifted the new suit. He missed Karen.

"Scan for any heat signatures in the area." And just like that the screen turned blue and he looked around. Immediately his eyes caught on the bright orange blob that was moving quickly to his right and he lept off the roof after it, swinging between buildings and landing close to where he first picked it up. By then the body had moved again, and as he spun his head around he couldn't relocated it. "Nice. Great."

He kicked a can left forgotten on the ground and it smacked against the bricks. His eyes narrowed through the dark, and then he remembered. "Karen, night vision."

Immediately everything was easy to make out, and he could have kicked himself for not using that sooner. His groan turned into something more resembling a whine as knelt down next to the can. "That would have been so helpful twenty minutes ago."

Peter decided to drop the subject and picked up the can, turning it over in his hand. Yep, spray can. One of the colours used by the vandal, and it was fresh. This made things so much easier.

"Karen," he started again, placing the can face-up on the cement and holding out his hand, expecting it to do, uh… something. "Enable fingerprint scanner."

"This suit is not equipped with a fingerprint scanner. Would you like me to send in a request?"

Peter sputtered. "Really? It has an enhanced combat mode, a surveillance camera and a heating system but Mr. Stark didn't think a fingerprint scanner was a good idea?" Silence followed before a soft-muttered, "Yeah. Let's uh… do that."

He eyed the can, wondering if it was worth it to bring it along as evidence or if he should drop the whole thing right there. Sure it was a crime, but it wasn't the type he normally dealt with. It wasn't violent, just stupid. And rude. But mostly stupid. So after a short debate he decided chasing down the guy wasn't worth the effort he would need to expend to do so. The can went into one of the dumpsters nearby, and he made his way to the apartment.

Breakfast was a thing that did end up happening in the end. He sat at the table fully-suited, backpack set against the leg of the table as he lifted the bottom half of his mask and dug into the big bowl of Fruit Loops he'd poured.

Creaking floorboards had him looking up from his sugary snack, and Aunt May stared back from the darkness of the hall. There was quiet between them, and Peter looked around for some sort of explanation before finding none, giving up and slowly taking another bite of cereal.

Aunt May shook her head and sighed. "Peter, I know you admire him, but you really shouldn't be dressing up in that costume at this time of night…"

"Well it's technically morning, so…" He decidedly ignored the look she gave him. "Mr. Stark gave it to me."

"Mr. Stark?" She folded one arm over another.

"Yeah, yeah, it's a—it's a test model for Spider-Man. I'm trying it out for him, giving him feedback. And stuff."

She raised an eyebrow, and he wasn't so sure he'd pull this one off. "And why isn't Spider-Man testing it out?"

He raised his hands, gesturing out the words to try to further push his explanation. "He's a busy guy, Aunt May. He can't just test out these gadgets while on patrol. And—and I mean, I have a Stark Industries Internship so I'm qualified."

Aunt May's stare lingered a little longer before she released another sigh and shook her head, turning back into the bedroom. Peter's shoulders slouched in relief, though he probably just put a pin in that conversation for later. It was best not to linger, though, so he shifted out of his suit—because really, at this point he didn't think he would be doing any last-minute heroisms before classes started—and headed back onto the streets in civilian clothes. People were awake now, the sun was out, and as he stepped back outside he took a deep breath. It was nice to breathe in air not filtered by the suit. Got kinda stuffy in there.

Apparently he had wasted enough time between morning patrol and indulging in the most important meal of the day to align his schedule with everyone else's because his trek to school soon found him walking along with his classmates, milling onto school grounds with exhaustion found in the bags under their eyes. Man, they didn't know the half of it.

A crowd built up in front of the building, and as he walked forward he could make out more of it. That was… weird. But after turning the corner he saw what all the fuss was about. Their school was on the old side. Updated, sure, but some of the less modern aesthetics still made up its structure. One of the buildings had a tall clock tower at the top, one of those old Big Ben looking things. It still worked, because the time was always right. Well. Except for today, which found it three hours late. But the real kicker was the bright red spray paint covering the face, and the black lines that followed the brickwork all of the way down to the side entrance of the whole building.

Okay… weird.

He stepped closer, almost admiring the effort the vandal must have put into it, even if it looked, uh… not good. There were no entrances that led to the roof or face of the clock so this guy must have been some kind of talented to get all of that done overnight. Maybe an acrobat. The weird thing was, the artistic… choices of the perp looked ironically like the graffiti he'd found earlier on in the night.

The students' intrigue was quick to fade with the first morning bell and they filed inside for class. Peter was about to follow suit but his eyes caught on a short boy standing to his right. The kid's hands were on his hips, eyes set on the defaced clock above and an eerily wide grin on his face.

Yeah, not suspicious. Not suspicious at all.

"Hey, classes are about to start," Peter tried, figuring his suspicions could wait until the end of the day. "You wanna maybe go inside?"

No response, not even a look. It was all the more uncomfortable, and after a moment of staring Peter decided to pretend the interaction never happened as he headed inside.

"Pretty cool, don't ya think?" he heard, and he turned back to see the boy staring at him. "Wish I could draw like that, shishishi."

He blinked. "Uh… yeah. Sure." His eyes drifted over to the 'masterpiece' defacing their school. "We've got a real Picasso on our hands…"

Ever since the whole 'Spider-Man' thing happened, Peter became aware of just how restless he could be. Sitting at home studying took up a lot less of his time than it used to. In its place was a lot of overthinking.

The moment he stepped into his room that night he shrugged off his backpack, tossed it next to the bed and stretched up to retrieve his suit from behind the ceiling tiles. He dropped into his desk chair, holding the fabric between his fingers. When compared to his recent exploits, the vandal wasn't really worth the time. It was something that bothered him, though, nagged at the back of his thoughts.

That kid was from his class, a recent transfer who showed up after Liz left. Most people left him to his own devices, seeing that he always seemed a little off from afar. And speaking to him Peter could only confirm that there was something about him that set him apart from the rest of the class. So it was possible that he was the vandal, but… it was also possible that he just weirdly admired the actual guilty party, which… was weird, obviously, but not impossible. The last thing Peter would ever have want was to falsely accuse someone of a crime. Sure it wasn't a violent crime, but it still bothered him. The graffiti art was huge, and the fact that this guy managed to finish it all with no known way of getting up to the clock tower easily, all in one night? That was… kinda weird, too. Kinda interesting.

He was probably more hung up on this than he needed to be.

Peter had decided that he would survey that general area again tonight, and that if he found no suspicious activity he would let the whole thing drop. So for now he would just suit up and get to work. He told Aunt May that he was going to be studying, so there were no worries about her walking in and wondering where he had gotten to.

He pulled the mask over his head. "Kar—"

Suddenly a window opened involuntarily and covering the screen was Mr. Stark's face. He jolted and fell back with a yelp. The sudden motion knocked his chair off-kilter and he tumbled backwards to the floor, the back of his skull hitting with an achy thud.

"Peter," Stark called, his tone light in casual greeting. Sunglasses covered his eyes, though he appeared to be in his office. Lab? ...Conference room? Wherever he normally called from. When Peter didn't immediately reply he raised an eyebrow. "Am I interrupting something? Got a little steakout going on, Underoos?"

Peter sputtered, clambering up the side of the bedpost. He wished there was like, a warning signal he could use to brace himself whenever he got a call. "No, no, Mr. Stark—"

"Because you're supposed to let me know about steakouts. So that you don't leave any messes for me to clean up."

"It's not—it's really not, Mr. Stark," Peter assured, letting out a heavy breath. He lifted the chair off the ground and plopped back down onto it, snatching the fallen uniform up off the floor afterwards. "So what, you're just checking up on me or something?"

Tony was silent a moment before reclining in his chair, with his hands folded in that way that told Peter he was bothered by something. Not overtly so, just… irked, perhaps. "Right. Yeah. That. So. I noticed there was a new request in my email this morning. Know anything about that?"

Peter blinked, fiddling with the suit in his hands. He wanted to get changed but now he had to wait for Mr. Stark to let him go. "No, no, nothing. Nothing about that—who sent it?"

"Really now? Hmm. That's interesting." Tony's feigned surprise was a little too on-the-nose, but he supposed he should have expected nothing less. "See, I thought you might know something since it came from your email. Silly me. What was it a request for again? Let's take a look here… ah. Fingerprint scanner, huh?" He looked from his laptop to the screen expectantly.

The fiddling slowed until the fabric of the suit fell to his lap and he leaned back casually—or tried to, but instead succeeded in little more than making the action look forced and awkward. Wow, Karen actually sent in that request. Somehow he thought she wouldn't, though really she was an A.I. so of course she did. It was kinda her job. "Oh, oh that, right. Right, yeah, that was me. I just, you know, thought it might be a useful addition. And stuff."

Stark raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on the desk. "Seems like a really specific request. Just what were you doing that required a fingerprint scanner, huh, Spider-ling?"

Petter rubbed the back of his neck. "It would just be nice to have, I dunno."

"Peter. If you're going to lie at least try harder."

He wasn't sure why he was so reluctant to say, but he had a feeling Mr. Stark wouldn't care all that much about chasing after this type of crime. Even Peter wasn't sure it was worth it. He let out a sigh. "It would'a helped me ID one of the guys I was after. This dude left his tool behind. I figured it'd have prints that I could run to find him."

There was a shift then in Tony's face, ever so minute, and finally the sarcastic air seemed to lift a little. "Tool? What kind of tool? Is this like a grenade, a gun—gimme something, Kid."

Peter stared at his mentor's face on the screen for a while before closing his eyes and letting out a small, mumbled, "Spray can."

"A spray can."

"...Yeah, um. Spray can."

Whatever sarcasm had left came back along with the cockyness that was Tony Stark as the man kicked up his feet and adjusted his sunglasses. "Some guy spray painted a wall and now you're hunting him down to the ends of the Earth? This is what you do with that kick-ass suit I gave you?"

Peter groaned, his hands lifting up to gesture out his words, even though the other party wouldn't be able to see. "You make it sound so bad. I'm not like, hunting the guy down. I just thought it'd be good to catch him, y'know? Not much going around in these parts with Vulture gone, and I mean it's still a crime."

"It's a man with a spray can," Tony drolled.

"It's bigger than that," Peter assured, suddenly wishing he'd taken pictures of the damage. "This dude painted two walls and my school overnight. I don't know how he did it. How did he get up there? And where did he get that much paint? That must have cost a lot, right, Mr. Stark? Spray cans are expensive. It's such a waste of money, he isn't even any good. I could understand if he was a really great artist and had a passion for this but man, you should see them Mr. Stark. One is a grapefruit. Or Cap's shield. Or some round, undefined object that is neither a grapefruit nor a shield." And now he was rambling.

"You're rambling."

"I know!"

Stark's fingers absently rubbed at the hair on his chin while he remained momentarily silent. "Honestly," he started, "a scanner wouldn't have helped. The smart ones wear gloves."

And they were back to this.

"That's not you. You're not the police. Leave finding guys like that to them and worry about keeping your neighbourhood friendly and happy or whatever. I gave you everything you need. Your suit's fine the way it is."

Peter rolled his eyes, thankful Tony couldn't see him, grumbling out a quiet, "You're always updating your suit…"

"If it's really bothering you, Spider-Boy, then pursue it. Just don't let it distract from whatever else might be happening around you. And no scanner."

"Alright, Mr. Stark. Uh, thanks."

Tony offered a fake smile and moved his hand towards the screen. "I saw that, by the way."

The image cut out and Peter stared blankly through his now clear screen before letting out a long groan. How—what even was that? Somehow a whole big thing came out of a request Peter didn't fully realise was made about a feature he wasn't even sure he wanted. Mr. Stark could be a very hard man to read. Would have been nice if he came with a translater.

Shoving that whole exchange aside, Peter finished getting suited up and leapt out onto the city streets. Unlike this morning, this time he kept to the rooftops, swinging between buildings in a manner more similar to his norm. But more discreet, or at least trying to be. He somehow didn't think he'd do a good job catching this guy if he went through the streets loudly proclaiming his presence. And if he didn't find anything tonight he would move on with his life. Vandalism wasn't exactly something to get hung up over.

It had been a bit weird when Peter first noticed Mr. Stark making contact with him more often than before. After the whole thing with Cap'n he'd only been able to get in touch with Tony through Happy, and then there was the rare occasion when Mr. Stark would break the silence of his own accord. After the incident with Vulture, though, and that test he passed, there seemed to be stronger communication between the two of them. Maybe it was because things were quiet now, on both their ends. Or maybe it had to do with half of the Avengers now branded as war criminals. Being Iron Man, siding with the government, he'd gotten left behind by a lot of people. The Avengers were in shambles right now and the members imprisoned had been broken out by Cap. Who knew where they were now? Now the members were cut down to about half, and there were no big bads to distract Mr. Stark from everything that had went on… Something Peter learned was that Mr. Stark always needed distractions. He picked up on that recently, as it seemed that sometimes, well… he would be that distraction. But it didn't bother him. It was kinda nice, having Mr. Stark give him the time of day. Before he was left with no responses to his messages or texts, wondering if they were even being received. Now it seemed like Mr. Stark was trying to put forth more of an effort, engage more. It was… kinda nice.

Peter was pulled from his thoughts when he spotted a small figure seated in one of the alleyways he passed by. Yes, seated, as in they voluntarily planted themselves on the grungy cement, not for any obvious reason other than to maybe stare at a wall and contemplate life's mysteries. Okay, that was it; he was curious. He carried his current momentum over as he twisted around and flung himself and the string of web he was currently grappled to around to do a bit of backtracking.

Once the figure was in sight he let go, jumping onto the nearest rooftop and observing the current point of interest. "Karen, enhance the image for me, would ya?"

"Sure thing."

A closer image popped up, allowing him to make out details against the darkness. This time he'd actually remembered to turn nightvision on right at the start of his patrol. See? And Happy thought he was dense. Only sometimes.

He frowned when he made out a thin, lanky body and a hunched posture growing more familiar by the day. "Oh boy." It was a boy, a bug-eyed kid no older than himself with a stare so blank he'd be typecast for Children of the Corn. Transferee over there was just gawking at the brick wall, legs crossed and his hands on his knees. Huh.

Peter looked directly down from the ledge of the rooftop he was perched on, and even at such a steep angle it was easy to make out the bright, obnoxious colours on the brickwork that really didn't belong there. Well, that settled it; kid was caught red-handed. Er, well, the spray can wasn't actually in Transfer's hand, in fact he wasn't exactly sure where they went—alright, okay, he needed a better name for the kid. He'd forgotten Transfer's real name because he'd been, well, a bit unobservant right after Liz left. It had been one of those angsty high school romance cliches those first few weeks. Peter searched the suspect's person with his eyes and eventually his attention caught on a straw hat resting on his classmate's back, tied with a string around Transfer's neck. Well, that'd do.

Without further delay—because really, his internal monologue had kinda set him back a few minutes—Peter leapt down, slowing his descent with a web until he came to a silent stand right behind the seated form of the vandal. He posed, trying to look the least bit intimidating—or confident, because Mr. Stark had shown him that confidence was pretty intimidating—and cleared his throat. "So, Straw Hat, working on your next masterpiece?"

"Nope." The answer was so calm, so nonchalant in a way that almost irked Peter. It felt like Straw Hat knew he was there the whole time, and that didn't sit well with him… even if he was just dealing with a very intense vandal. "Isn't it cool, though?"

"Uh…" Peter looked up at the painting then and his eyes widened. This wasn't like the crappy toddler-esque doodles he spotted the night before; this was a mural. Or something like that. It was clearly not supposed to be there and though the paint had started to dry he could still make out the very fresh, very iconic scent that oozed off of it. The whole thing took up about half of the entire wall, leaving no unpainted spaces within the confines of the piece. It was elaborate in a way the ones before it hadn't been, a white bird depicted in the centre with a stylised, shaky-looking body, vague blue shapes surrounding its right like a rippling tide. Its left was engulfed in a sea of red flames that exploded into colour before ending, popping off the wall. That right there, that was art. That took skill. The subject matter was a little iffy but hey, art is art and art is confusing.

"That's… a fair bit impressive. Okay. Points for that."

"Right? Shishishi."

Peter cleared his throat again, crossing his arms over his chest. "You do that, Straw-Boy?"

Straw Hat twisted around then, finally meeting Peter's eyes with a pout on his lips. "I already said I didn't—hey! Hey hey you're that Spider-Guy aren't you?"

He lowered his hands, tilting his head. "Um—yeah. That's me. Friendly, neighbourhood Spider—"

"That's so cool!"

"...Man."

Peter watched as the boy leapt to his feet with surprising speed, a wide, toothy grin on his lips. Straw Hat's eyes lit up with boundless curiosity as he looked over the suit with excitement and perhaps a hint of envy. "You're that guy who did that thing with the bird man, right? Everyone was like 'oh noooooo' and then it was all 'KABAM' and then you were all 'THWIP' and the bad guy was arrested an' stuff!"

Peter blinked, needing to take a step back from the all the loud sound effects being made, and he just stared for a second. So this guy was a, uh… fan? "I remember it a little differently but yeah, something like that." He looked past Straw Hat to the wall. "So you really didn't make that?"

"Nu-uh." He shook his head, the grin faded into a blank slate that couldn't quite be interpreted. "But I like it. I like looking at it."

"I can respect that." He placed his hands on his hips, kind of resenting the fact that this kid who looked so small from afar was about eye level with him. "So is this like a uh, hobby or something? You just sit around in dank alleyways staring at graffiti? Hey, no judgement. I get that. I think we all need a thing to get us through the day. This your favourite artist or something?"

Luffy stood tall with his arms over his chest. "Nah. The other guy was better. Shishishi!"

As much as the whole ordeal had been entirely unintentional, it was days like those that made Peter happy that Ned knew his secret. Keeping it from Aunt May was as hard as it was necessary. She would never approve of the dangers he put himself in on the job, and though there may come a time sooner than he wanted where everything would be exposed, he was determined to at least stretch out the secret for as long as he could. For both of their sakes. That created a rift between them, really. Secrets always did. In the early days he felt the line between himself and everyone else alienating and solving every problem on his own, while good experience, just forced more stress onto him than he could handle at times. Partnering with Ned liberated him of that. It gave him a soundboard to bounce ideas off of, and a new perspective to each situation they were exposed to. Ned was great.

He hadn't expected Ned to help in this case, though.

The cafeteria was packed and loud and an overload of input for someone with heightened senses. Peter had adjusted to dealing with it over time, but not before having a period where he ate on the steps outside for about three weeks. That was back before Ned knew and kept questioning him on just why he wanted to sit outside some days… in the rain. Boy, that had been a fun excuse to make up. Anyway, he sat across from his friend but his attention drifted further back to the solitary, bug-eyed kid seated two tables away.

Ned followed his eyes, gawking unabashedly. "Him?"

"Jesus, Ned, be a little less obvious," Peter whispered, which was probably unnecessary considering the ear-bleeding volume of the other students around them. "Yeah, that guy. He was at two of the scenes. I thought he was our guy but now I'm just not sure."

Ned turned back around to face Peter, eyebrow raised. "You really think it's Luffy, though?"

"Like I said I'm not—" Peter cut himself off, scrunching his brow as he leaned in closer. "That's his name?"

"You really forgot? C'mon, Spider-Man, he's in homeroom."

"Yeah, I know, I just—"

"I know, I know. I wouldn't pay attention if I was a crime-fighting super-badass, either," Ned teased, taking a sip from his can. "He's not so bad. I've hung out with him a few times after school while he was waiting for his brother."

"His brother picks him up?" Peter repeated in question.

Ned nodded. "Drops him off, too. They seem pretty close. Ace can be a little… intense, though. Every time he looks at me I feel like I'm being interrogated as the prime suspect in an unsolved murder case from the 80's."

Oddly specific. He wouldn't question it. So Luffy's brother was named Ace, and he was… protective? Was that an accurate way to describe it? A part of him wanted to stick around after school to see this so-called brother, but that was probably bordering on stalking and if he resorted to a crime to solve a crime then he wasn't any better than anyone else. It wasn't like he caught Luffy red-handed, either; Luffy had just been present at two of the scenes. He seemed to like art to some… questionable degree, so maybe the explanation for it was as simple as that.

"Luffy likes art," Ned continued, pulling Peter away from his growing inner monologue. "His brother's an artist. Maybe he just saw it and got distracted. I mean, there were plenty of other people staring at the graffiti the morning the clock tower got hit."

"That's what I was thinking…" He heaved a sigh. "Now I'm starting to wish Mr. Stark had installed that fingerprint scanner."

"...What?"

Peter waved it off and with that small gesture dismissed the whole subject. He spared one more glance Luffy's way before casting his gaze downward to the table. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, I'll drop it." It was just that something didn't seem right about the whole thing, and as trivial a matter as it was, he just…

He felt this looming sense of danger whenever he looked at that guy.

"So, Itsy-Bitsy-Spider. Still chasing after the dastardly vandal of Queens?"

Mr. Stark rarely used the phone to contact him. It seemed too… outdated for the genius that was Tony Stark. Calling wasn't flashy enough for the mega billionaire. Too commonplace. Or maybe it was just Peter, himself, that he preferred not to contact that way. Regardless, there were times when the suit wasn't on, Mr. Stark would try to get in contact to no avail, and the cellphone would ring.

"There are two now, Mr Stark. It's—it's really important work I'm doing here and stuff. You wouldn't understand."

"I'm so sure."

Peter smiled, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "I dropped it about a week ago. There haven't been any more incidents, so." About two weeks had passed. He tried to keep an eye on his suspect but when Luffy was no longer being, well, suspicious he was quick to drop it. With no further damage being done and no fingerprint scanner, it wasn't like there was much to be done, anyway. Even the can he'd left back in the alley was gone by morning—and yes, he did regret tossing aside the only potential evidence he found. Why? Just—just why? "I don't really like the uh, um. Letting it slide. Feels like they just got a 'get out of jail free' card courtesy of me."

"They did, Kid. But it's vandalism; we're not talking about assault and robbery here."

"I know that Mr. Stark, I do, I just—" He pursed his lips. "It—it doesn't sit right."

The streets were busy near the central hub of Downtown, not like that was any surprise. People milled about the sidewalks lining the storefronts on either side of him and he was careful to sidestep a lady as she passed by in a hurry. It was that time of day; people were rushing to get home, to go out. Peter had decided to take an evening for himself and made a detour while on his way back to his aunt's apartment, opting instead to head to Hunter's Point up ahead, take a few hours off before getting back to the grind and all that. Man, he was such a professional.

There was a park on the way to Hunter's Point and after deciding to cut through there he found himself distracted by the bustling noises of a crowd formed along one of the grassy patches near the fountain. His heightened senses made it hard to ignore. If he was suited up that wouldn't be a problem; the suit helped him focus. But as it stood he was not, and passing through just made his curiosity grow. Soon he was standing as tall as he could, craning his neck to try to look over the other onlookers' heads. It didn't work. The simple fact of his genetics meant that he was one of the shortest ones there. Well, shortest adult. He was taller than the few kids there. At least.

"So listen. Kid." Mr. Stark's voice divided his attention as he walked around, seeing that the crowd thinned out on one of the sides. "I've been giving it some thought. Be grateful for that. I know how you can be with your little neurotic tendencies and your puberty."

"My what?" Peter half paid attention to what Stark was saying, but he was more interested in the man he saw standing at the fountain with a makeshift easel. Dozens of eyes were on the work in progress and in the man's left hand was a tightly gripped spray can. A street artist, huh? That wasn't too uncommon, but Peter'd never actually stopped to watch one at work. It was cool seeing just how fast this guy was. He needed a better angle to see the painting itself, though. Okay, fine. That was fine. He was small; he could maneuver his way through the viewers if he tried.

"Hey Underoos, you sidelining me? 'Cause if so you're making a big mistake. You're passing up a great deal here, Kiddo."

Peter stood in place, eyeballing the best way through the group. Of course everyone was standing directly in front of the painter, so that was the most difficult area for Peter to get to. "Ah, sorry Mr. Stark. There's just this um, painter guy. In the park. It's really fun to watch, wish you could see it."

"Kid. I don't need to. I've seen plenty of street performers before."

"Artists."

"Those, too."

A few bodies shifted in the crowd and Peter headed closer, finally able to watch the man work. The canvas-thing was already very textured, a burst of bright orange and yellow. For the moment the spray cans were left forgotten on the platform off to the side, and the man was sliding a blade lightly across the surface to peel away the most recent layer of paint,revealing a much lighter yellow beneath it. It was starting to look like a wing of sorts.

Watching a little longer showed that there was a bird attached to that wing, a bright one with impossibly-long tail feathers. Peter frowned, and his eyes drifted to some of the finished paintings drying on display. The art style looked vaguely familiar.

It was when his eyes set on Luffy that everything just seemed to fall into place. Luffy was seated on the ledge of the fountain with a mischievous grin on his face, not even paying the artist any mind as he mindlessly doodled in a very beaten up sketchbook.

"Look, kid. I mulled it over a bit more and thought 'hey, why not?' I'll send over a hardware upgrade. Figured you might've had a point about that scanner. Sometimes I forget that you do things differently than we d—"

"Oh, uh, y-yeah that's great and all Mr. Stark but—"

"Hey. You don't interrupt me." Stark's voice was short and the inflection used was enough to tell Peter to proceed with caution. He didn't want to irritate his benefactor. "I thought we talked about this, Spider-Boy."

"Sorry, sorry, I know. My bad. But um—" Peter glanced between the painter and Luffy. Their features were similar, their skin and hair colours, the angled set of their jaws. "I don't think I need that scanner."

There was silence, followed by a deep, calming breath. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. For your sake."

Peter shoved the phone into his pocket and began his approach, sidling up to the straw-hat-wearing fiend and taking a seat on the ledge of the fountain. Luffy didn't react save a cursory glance over, leaving Peter to fidget. Okay, so the interrogation part of the job maybe wasn't his strongest point, and the whole 'questioning' thing was probably best done in uniform so maybe confronting the suspect while dressed as Peter Parker wasn't the best idea. He wanted to gather information while he had a chance, though. Confronting the issue as Spider-Man could wait.

He awkwardly drummed his fingers along his knees. Great. This was going great. "That your brother?" he finally asked, watching the older man paint. The guy didn't look that old, maybe out-of-high-school-but-still-just-starting-to-adult old. The painting was really coming together, and though the method was very different from the street art he'd been confronted with a few weeks back, the style looked identical.

Luffy grinned, kicking his feet back and forth across the cement. "Yup! Isn't Ace cool?"

Peter let out a breath,gesturing vaguely with his hands. "Yeah. Yeah, totally." Okay, so they established that the brother was cool. That was helpful… how? Okay, he had this. He just had to ask about the graffiti… without sounding like he's Spider-Man looking for a perp. Yeah, okay, he could do that. He just had to uh… um. Hm.

Well, shit.

No, no, he had this! He could do this.

"It kinda looks like the art we—I saw in the alley. Near school."

"Kinda," came the aversive answer, never questioning the stupidly obvious stumble, and he was back to square one.

"S-so you've seen it too, huh?" A nervous laugh didn't make Peter any less suspicious.

Luffy was a… strange guy. He acted like a bit of an idiot, but the fact of the matter was that he was attending the same school for the gifted as Peter and Ned, and that meant that he was anything but. So it was hard to tell if he was just not catching on, or if he was one step ahead of Peter that whole time. The guy was hard to read, eerily so. There was something about the way he moved, too, that just seemed… unnatural.

"I wanna draw like him," Luffy stated, continuing the conversation all on his own. The way his eyes lit up when looking at his brother was kinda sweet. Ace was his hero. Er… inspiration? Because 'hero' probably wasn't the best word when talking about a vandal. "Buuuuuut I'm too impatient. It takes too long!"

"To learn?"

"Yeah!" There was a pout on Luffy's face that made him look ten years younger. "Ace tried teachin' me. But the lessons are so boring. And easy. And I just wanna paint already!"

Impatient to learn, huh? Peter'd rather not acknowledge how familiar that sentiment was.

Sentimentals aside, it was sounding more and more like he found the right guy.

The crowd was dispersing as the painting reached its final stretch with Ace adding more fine detail that was hard to spot from a distance, and Peter shifted in his seat. "Hey Luffy, you mind if we go somewhere to talk for a bit?"

Luffy turned to him, blinking owlish eyes before finally offering a nod and hopping of the ledge. "Sure. Bout what?"

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, stuff. Come with me."

They wandered off to a quieter area of the park. No one around, no one to overhear their conversation, and as soon as he decided they were secure enough Peter spun around to face his classmate. Luffy's eyes were still as blank as usual, posture hunched and unaffected. In some ways Luffy was actually… a little intimidating.

He cleared his throat. "I have a question I wanna ask you."

Luffy folded his arms behind his head, leaning back against a tree trunk. "Shoot."

Peter pressed his lips together. "You're the vandal, aren't you? The one who spray painted the school."

"Mayyyyybe."

He sighed. "Look, I'm trying my best here. I'm not good at this part of the job." He only partially realised that he was venting his own insecurities to someone who really had no business knowing them. It didn't sound like Luffy was trying all that hard to hide his involvement in all of this, either. "I've—"

There was a bang behind him. A sudden rumble spread throughout the ground and Peter snapped his head around, staring wide-eyed at a large ball of fire surrounding a tightly clenched fist, clenched within it an exploded spray can that could barely be considered shrapnel. Ace stood there, his face a blank frown with sharp grey eyes locked onto Peter's every move. Though his face betrayed little emotion his anger was immediately obvious in the charred-black bark of the trees around him—trees he wasn't touching.

Peter stood wide-eyed for a moment, mouth slightly ajar as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing, and his first worry was that he was going to have his first supervillain on his hands. Vulture may have had the tech to make a strong opponent but man, he did not have the same kind of oomph as the baddies the Avengers fought. This though, this sent shivers down his spine. This was, this was—

Just what was this guy?

Peter raised placating hands. Ace kept it off his face well enough, but that display signalled how on-edge he was. Why? They were just—just talking, and stuff! Peter wasn't even good enough at his job for this to be considered an interrogation! "Hey-hey there, um. Luffy's brother?"

"Hey." The tone was flat and Ace took a few steps forward. There was this aggressive confidence to his gait that made him seem all the more intimidating, like he could flip a switch and be on the attack at any moment. "See you've met my little bro."

Luffy plopped down on the bench beside them, his legs crossed on the seat and his hands wrapped around his ankles. "Yo, Ace!"

Ace's eyebrow twitched, but the fire licking his skin started a slow fade into smoke. "Don't 'yo' me, you little shit. The hell's all this about vandalism now?!" His eyes flicked over to Peter, "The hell's he supposed to be?!"

"My classmate!"

"That's not what I—goddamn it, Luffy!"

"Shishishishi!"

Peter watched the exchange in silence for a moment, allowing the brothers' their quarrel while not taking his eyes off of the simmering wood directly within eyesight. "Um…"

Ace seemed to have calmed down somewhat and he followed Peter's eyes to the violent scorch marks his outburst left in his wake, shoulders tensing. He slowly turned back to the student, looking to be a lot more grave than hostile, and he bit his lip. "Hey."

Peter tensed. "U-um, yeah?"

"What did you see?"

He paused, thought for a moment. He wondered if he should be honest. Stand up to this violent asshole that was trying to intimidate him. Maybe he should be the brave, truthful superhero he always wanted to be. But Peter liked to think that his logic was deeply rooted in reality, and with no way of knowing how strong this Ace guy was and no desire to lead on to his identity he instead let out a small, uncertain, "N-nothing."

"Damn straight. Lu," Ace called, eyeing Peter a moment longer before turning around.

"Coooooming." The bug-eyed vandal flashed one last grin. "See ya at school."

"...See ya."

Soon enough they were gone, packing up the canvas and supplies on the far end of the park, and Peter was left standing there in silence, brow furrowed and lips pursed as he tried to make sense of just what had happened in those last three minutes. But there was a small noise grating his ears that pulled him away from thoughtful contemplation and he dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

...Crap.

Hesitantly he put it up to his ear.

"Kid. What the hell was that supposed to be?" Stark's voice met his ears, and immediately he knew that this whole thing was a mistake.

He should have put the call on mute.

Adieu~