J. Jonah Jameson had been through ten cigars in one evening. In his mind, it was for good reason.

The Daily Bugle, his newspaper business for Queens, had it's sales drop by 15% and that was a giant heap of money flushed down the crapper...money that could have been his and everyone else who worked for him. Rumor hard it that rivals in Hell's Kitchen or the Bronx had stories actually worth talking about, news about freaks doing odd jobs and things like that. Jameson didn't want to waste his papers glorifying those costume types, and yet his advertising manager was advising that he do exactly that.

"Not to say that the things we write are boring, but I do overhear talk from readers." Josh explained to him, a paper in hand. "They could hear about laws being passed or the latest museum opening over whatever social means they have...rather than just reading it. Sure, we keep the old stuff but...maybe add a little kick to things?"

"I'm running a newspaper buisiness, not a bakery." He grumbled and crossed his arms. "And one of ours got an Oscorp interview last week! What do these people want? They want to read all about some freaks in pajamas!"

"Unfortunately, that's exactly what they want. Entertaining for them, I guess. Our 15% could go back up if we even mentioned one of these urban legends for the briefest time."

Jameson snorted: of course THIS would be the only way out. "...Whatever. If these people wanna hear about 'em, I'll make their eyes bleed."

"...er, That's the spirit." Josh halfheartedly shrugged and pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket. "...the only problems left are finding a photographer and just the right guy to talk about...Hmm...How about 'The mysterious guy with the blazing fist'?"

The older man scoffed and shoot his head. "We'd need a shorter name. Iron punch or something cheesy like that."

"Okaaaay...Devil of Hell's Kitchen?"

"They've already got papers on him! You want this place to get shut down?!" He barked suddenly, and Josh raised a hand.

"Okay! Okay! The 'Punisher' hasn't been talked about !such over there? And he tends to move to other cities from time to time, right?"

"Yeah, but I hear he's in Harlem."

"Hmm...there's rumors about this private investigator-"

"Pass."

"...This guy that stops robberies during lunar phases?"

"Nada."

"What about the uh...guy and the chick? People dubbed them 'Cloak and Knife', right?"

"...That's in Arizona."

"Darn. Right...Spider-man."

Jameson sat up straight, intensely glaring at Josh. "No. That's final."

"Why not?!" The man pressed in response, dropping the paper as he waved his arms in exasperation. "He's the last one on my list! You know how long it takes for another one to appear on the scene?!"

"I don't care. I'm gonna give attention this arrogant little twig! Causing collateral damage, scuffing up windows! And the webs! He leaves all of those sticky little wads of crap everywhere like he owns this town!"

Josh rolled his eyes. "I never said you had to make him look like a good guy. Just talk about him! He's an Avenger, Jameson!"

"No, he fought WITH The Avengers." Jonah pointed out quickly. "He comes in for eight minutes and then leaves. If he were an Avenger, the whole world would know."

"Even so, the video footage released to the public isn't necessarily news! If we talk about this guy, who people would know at least met The Avengers...they'd eat it up! All we'd have to do is talk about this Spider guy just once."

Jonah inhaled and sighed loudly; He definitely hated Spider-man, but at least he would be more fun to talk about then the other yahoos mentioned to him. The man nodded while he rolled his eyes. "Fine. Spider-man it is. Let's get a story going."

"First we have to get a picture of him." Josh explained. "Since he's based here in Queens, we'll be able to get pictures of him. But we're short on photographers, remember? Kate quit last week."

"...MISS BRANT!" Jameson roared at the top of his lungs and jumpscared Josh. Seconds later, a young brunette with short cut hair and a casual dress peeked in awkwardly. The boss nodded her curtly.

"Put out the word: We're hiring."

The smoke stung Kaydi's eyes deeply, and she could barely breathe through the clouds of black billowing into the the distracting pain of sitting amongst shoes and umbrellas and hanging clothes her seven year old eyes could spot the orange glow flickering through the spaces of the closet doors. This light was scary instead of comforting, as light should be; light never burned up her room or the hallways of the apartment. Light didn't choke her and blind her every so often. Except, maybe now.

It was getting close to where she was, in that cramped closet. Kaydi huddled back a bit more into the corner of the room and frantically pushed a few pairs of shoes in front of her, hoping that just maybe it would keep the fires back. The sound of crackling flames was loud, but not enough to mask the sounds of the floor making awful moaning sounds. She even felt everything shift to the right a little bit in a sudden snap, and that's when she shut her eyes tightly. Kaydi curled herself into a sobbing ball, shuddering in pure fear while the flames only got closer and closer to the closet doors. She shrieked when the doors suddenly swung open, thinking that the fire was about to swallow her whole.

"Woah! Hey! Hey! It's okay!"

Kaydi frowned; fire doesn't talk. The little girl looked up towards the source of the voice and gasped.

"Yeah. I look funny. I know...C'mon. Whaddaya say we get outta here, huh?"

"I have to go in there- My Daughter's still inside!" The woman frantically shoved herself against the fire fighter in a desperate attempt to get past him. Even if weren't for him being clearly stronger, there were still four other fire fighters nearby that would notice the commotion.

"I understand that!" He responded gently. The man knew that, with the rate the building was burning at, the little girl had to get out of there fast. "But the building's already crumbling from the base, the whole thing will come down on top of you!"

The mother tried again from a different angle, narrowing her eyes intensely at him. "I DON'T CARE! I have to get her out!"

"Ma'am! We'll get her out!" The fire fighter struggled; geez, she was actually stronger than she looked. "We're working on getting the ladder close enough for us to get in!"

"Move back! Move back! Everybody, go go!" A police officer abruptly bellowed from their side, followed by the loudest crackling sounds ever heard in that night. The west side of the apartment some sixty feet away from the crumbled downwards to the concrete soil. The firefighter was broken out of his startled stupor by the screams of citizens and shouts of parademics fleeing the area, picking up the struggling woman sadly.

The building fell in a domino-like fashion, each section that hit the ground affected the next section. The whole thing collapsed when the last part of the building gave out, but a tiny blur swung out of the window just before it was smashed. The blur went unnoticed by the watchers below until a wet slapping sound was detected at the the corner of a nearby lamp post, and then the sound of feet thudding on a car roof.

To the left, a figure was crouched almost majestically upon the roof of an ambulance van. The figure, aside from soot, was dressed in dark blue jeans below a red long-sleeved shirt that appeared tight against the figure's body. While black tennis shoes adorned the small feet of the figure, finger gloves attended to the hands and outlined two distinctively built watches with tiny nozzles. A huge red wooly hat was pulled over the figure's entire head like some kind of makeshift mask, and tinted goggles sat where the eyes would be. The chest of the shirt had the symbol of a spider, but it was blocked by the body of a little girl.

"Kaydi!" The woman cried suddenly, rushing towards the vehicle while anyone nearby simply watched in surprise.

"Mommy! " The little girl squirmed happily. The figure leaned forward and held out the girl with a hidden smirk.

"Yeah see?" The vigilante's voice was unmistakably male, albeit slightly high pitched."I told you I'd get you back to your Mom!"

The mother tearfully took hold of her child and hugged her about as tightly as one could imagine, and the girl did the same as best as she could. "...Oh, I-I'm sorry, Honey...I should have taken you w-with me..."

The little girl managed to grin at her. "It's okay! He saved me! He's really cool!"

"...th...thank you..." Was the sniffling show of gratitude towards the vigilante, who was watching them in silence for the moment.

"Uh...Any-Any time..." The figure stuttered, nodded curtly and leaped to his feet in a nonchalant movement, as if getting ready to leave. Although it was hard to be certain, the figure looked at Kaydi with a soft chuckle. "Er, Great daughter you have! Bravest girl I've met in a while."

"Thank you, Lady!" The little girl beamed in a sing song tone while her mother smiled.

"...um, actually it's-"

"Freeze!"

All eyes turned to a police officer who suddenly appeared and aimed a pistol shakily at the young man on the car roof. He looked unsure of himself and a bit in awe of what he was beholding. "Don't move!"

"...eh?"

"I said don't move!"

The masked hero craned his neck slightly, and it took a moment for everyone to realize thatshe was tilting his head in confusion. "Uh, I literally just saved the little girl right there. Her mother could vouch for me."

The officer disregarded the older woman about to speak. "You're still under arrest for acts of vigilantism! Come down slowly-"

"There's no laws against vigilantism! I think." He shrugged, before suddenly leaping backwards and startling people by landing on the concrete. The officer rushed to be in clear view of the figure and aimed his gun again.

"Stop!"

"HAMMER TIME!"

After the oddly placed exclamation, the figure flicked his wrist in the direction of the officer and a blur of white halted against the tip of the gun. The whole thing and even part of his hands were covered in some kind of giant web, thick enough to keep his hands stuck where they were.

"Don't worry! Ice and peanut butter?" The mask-muffled voice was heard. "Makes it all come off easily! Or you could just wait an hour."

Before the officer could say anything and before anyone else could move, he made a different hand movement towards a lamp post nearby and yanked himself above it as if he could fly. He went slinging through the jungle of taller buildings without any glances cast back. "TTFN, Folks!"

Peter quietly landed in the room, scanning to see if anyone was actually inside before closing the window behind him and taking off his mask. Breathing in a bit of fresh air, he briefly scraped back his mangled and messy brunette hair before tossing the mask on his bed. He sighed and fell back on the bed like a ragdoll. A tired, yet exhilarated ragdoll.

After a few minutes, he lazily lifted an arm and peeked at the webshooter bound to his wrist; an almost empty web cartridge awaited him eagerly. Gotta make these things bigger...

The other webshooter could not be checked before a knock was heard from the door. The teen didn't pay it too much attention. "Peter? Are you done showering?"

"Huh? Oh yeah! You can come in, Aunt May. " Two seconds later, Peter noticed that he still had the costume on and slammed his body forcefully against the door just in time. "I mean no! Don't come in right now!"

"Why not?"

"I...uh...I'm still naked."

"You're naked?"

"Yeah... Still looking for the-the, uh...stuff that I wear." Peter informed her with a nod, before realizing that she wouldn't see it.

"Oh. Okay." His Aunt responded blankly. "Well, I was just going to tell you the pizza's here and I was going to the washeteria now. I expect you to be in bed by the time I come back with these wet clothes."

Peter furrowed his brow as soon as her words reminded him of something important. "...Uh, yeah. Okay."

"Love you, Peter."

"Love you too, Aunt May."

Without waiting too much longer to hear her footsteps fade away into nothing, the teen leaped onto his bed and flicked a specific switch on his webshooter. The holographic face of Tony Stark stared back at him closely, and Peter frowned under the look given to him. When you talk to your 'employer' via hologram chat through your webshooter, and they responded by staring closely at you, one tends to worry. It wasn't until he spoke that Peter dropped the idea of the billionaire glaring. "You're looking better, Kid. Guess that backhand wasn't as serious as we thought, huh?"

"And the other...numerous punches, yes." Peter nodded, keeping his wrist steady. "Aunt May wasn't very suspicious about it. This kind of thing...sorta happens all the time."

"Ain't that a kick in the butt of Irony. You can stop a car without breaking a sweat and you've got Neanderthal issues."

"...what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nothing. Where's your Aunt anyways? Hate to find out she's snooping outside the door."

"Nah, she's washing the clothes, Mr Stark. It could be days before she comes home." He shook his head, yet still glanced at the wooden door. "I might be able to drop it off before she gets back."

When he received a look of confusion, The teen glanced up at the attic hole thingy on his ceiling and added: "The suit, Mister Stark. Remember?"

"...why're ya givin it back?"

"I...I thought you would want it back. I'm fine using the suit I got, ya know..."

"Heck no! Those rags you're wearing right now? That's a walking fashion disaster. You're keeping my suit and that's final, young man."

Peter snickered a little at Tony's wit. He was often surprised that many people seldom laughed at the guy. "Alright, Alright. I'm keeping it."

"Good. now I'd love to chat and have a jolly cup of tea with you some more, but I've got some business to deal with regarding the eastern coast of Brazil."

He thought about Tony's statements, recalling that in the trending section of Youtube there was some random army radar video filmed from a beach supposedly showing a guy swimming as fast as a jet underwater. Even if he was a guy that used webs to get around, he didn't believe the video. "Oh yeah, I heard about that...I guess I'll see you around Mister Stark?"

"Are you seriously gonna keep calling me that?"

"Yep."

"Thanks for making me feel old, whippersnapper. Iron man out." His face suddenly dissipated into nothingness once again, and all that was soon left was a very cool watch. Peter gently unlatched the thing from his wrist as memories flashed through his brain like any other thought he had.

For one, he remembered how his Friday had began and how he acquired his suit as well as a trip to Germany. Then there was the fight against Ant guy and Captain America( who he was certain liked in him in an impressed way) and then...he was told to go home. Even so, he'd had his fill of excitement and fighting and dudes with metal arms for one weekend. After this sunday afternoon was over, Peter would be thrust back into the cruel war zone that many liked to refer to as 'Newtown High School'.

The location was far enough away from the rest of the city to be unnoticed by law enforcement, and just so happened to be at a half built warehouse. The workers could have quit halfway through building it, or maybe plans to continue got but or something like that. The Spikes didn't care about the building to that extent though, just whoever was inside the place.

The Spikes were what regular people would refer to as a gang. Hit and Runs, pick povkets, forgery, just plain vandalizing, hurting people...they could do it all and did it all. Most of the group was made up of low-life guys in their mid twenties or bums who got fired from their jobs- even one or two guys who depended on their parents when they weren't with the gang. They all were pretty low in IQ but when it came to numbers, usually stolen numbers, their ranks knew how of worked. They knew how meetings worked for people like them.

Some anonymous tip offered them a chance for a lot more cash and even safety from the law, offers that had them suspicious to say the least. The gang members all got there discreetly by several cars or sub's to stay under the radar, making up their minds to follow their leader inside when everyone was there. The leader liked to be referred to as 'Boss', for whatever simple reason it was.

The went into the moonlit place, because the roof was half done. Pale light brightly glinted off the concrete ground as well as themselves, illuminating support beams and casting eery shadows across the ground. Apart from the debris that was scattered around, the huge group soon came upon a snazzily dressed fellow with a specifically red tie. Boss raised an eyebrow at him, shoving his calloused hands into his pockets. "This is the place?"

"Not quite, Sir." The man voiced respectfully and motioned for them to follow. After reluctantly doing do and passing under several arches of bent metal and debris, the men reached a door with one hinge completely broken. The suited man opened the door and revealed stairs that dipped down almost vertically. "Right this way."

They all managed to walk in a 'double file line' and wound up at the bottom of the stairs, where concrete sliding doors eagerly parted to allow them in. They were in a room with several more sliding doors, but other groups of people practically blocked all of them. The Spikes stiffened upon recognizing a few of the five groups that were there, and muttered suspiciously under their breaths. Boss narrowed his eyes at the leader of one group to his left. "Hmmph. I didn't think you rats would be here too."

"Good to see you too." Was the response from a middle aged man in a blue business suit. His gang of button up shirted men called themselves The Edge, a name very few people lived long enough to tell. They were mostly a group of hackers and computer specialists; able to steal from online bank accounts with the right bugs and the right amount to make people think that it was just a glitch in their systems. They briefly allied with the Blades, but too many bavkstabs ensued. "The rest of you are still serving in prison?"

"Nah. Bailed or Broke em out, Jags." Boss glanced at another group and smirked. "Finn Cooley. You're not looking too shabby."

Cooley was a lucky man, but not very much so. He was the leader of a fourth of Irish mob, a guy who preferred to stay where he was overseas. After his son got killed in Hell's kitchen and a heap of money went down the drain Finn bolted over to the city and actually caught the guy who did it all: Frank Castle, a ex-military pain in the butt who was much different than other 'superheroes'. Finn was lucky to survive a shotgun to the face, but not enough to save him from being disfigured. Until he recovers, he rolls around in a wheelchair and wears a transparent plastic mask over his head to keep his face from falling off.

"This meeting is supposed to be for the real men." He wheezed in front of the rest of his Irish mob, the two fourths that originally stayed overseas. In other words, he had 100 men behind him and 800 back at whatever base he had. "Go home, lads."

"Does anyone know How long is this supposed to take?" Said the boss of the only other gang in the room. Surprisingly, this boss was a woman who looked to be in her mid thirties and had flowing hair the color of silver. Her lackeys looked oddly like security soldiers unlike everyone else's goons. "I have more important things to do than listen to you three."

"You were standing there quietly before, Sweetie." The Edge leader harrumphed. "You can do it a bit longer."

They all failed to notice that the man who led them in had finished a phone call and was now waiting patiently for the door he stood near to open. The doors opened just loudly enough for everyone to look towards the dark opening and try to peer in to find anyone. Soon, a man in a plaid blue suit stepped out of the darkness and stopped arrogantly before the four groups. He seemed normal enough, excluding the fact that his head seemed a bit larger than normal. Perhaps it was his hair.

"You're him?" Jags narrowed his eyes.

"Nah. I ain't him. Name's Joseph." The guy snorted. " He's busy wit other problems right now, but the big man'll meet ya later."

"He calls us all here...and doesn't even show up." Finn stated to be sure about what he'd just been told."

"It's police he's got problems with." Joseph explained. "In any case, I'm supposed to be the one telling you mooks why you should join the big man."

They all silently stared at him, so he began.

"You all have businesses to run, I kin see. I kin also see that you boys and gals chose bad places to set up shop and make a profit. Yer way of thinking involved taking over the darker towns- the places where cops hardly lived. But things ain't always what they seem." He gestured to the Irish mob. "Cooley here is living proof of it. Silver too."

Boss looked unimpressed. "Your point?"

"Queens is my point. This town's got a lotta cops, but crime for them's been down for too long. They're growing fat, they're growing lazy and they're growing weak. A pack of wolves on a pig is an easy fight to win. We're the wolves here, and you kin guess who's da pig."

Silver had an interested look in her eyes, and a small smile. "You make it sound so simple."

"We've got resources to make it simple. We got our hands on big brains." Joseph grinned an unsettling grin. "Brains that can whip up guys as strong as the Hulk. Wit the right ingredients."

That statement peaked everyone attention even if it seemed unlikely, and glances were exchanged amongst the criminal empires. After some time of silence, Finn sent a piercing gaze at Joseph. "What's in it for you?"

"Big man'll tell you his reasons soon enough...Why don't you all talk it out and give me a call when you make a decision, eh?" Joseph asked them, reluctantly receiving a few slow nods. The man nodded in return. "Alright...think wisely on this one. Things could change for you all, big time.

"Mr. Parker?"

"HEAT'S MEASURED IN JOULES!"

"...Yes. Very good, , I thought you weren't paying attention again. You're improving."

Peter nervously chuckled at the same time that his classmates finally stopped giving him weird stares. They turned back around and he hurriedly jotted down the notes he was supposed to be taking the whole time before. The lanky freshman went by the numbering on the paper, filling in the blanks between sentences with the specific words or symbols regarding IPC class. But that was when he noticed that he didn't have the first eight words on the paper because Mr Haley was done lecturing the class about it and had since moved on to the other words in the paper.

"Internal combustion." Peter looked over to his right with a start and saw the sophomore girl with shoulder length dark brown hair talking to him, clad in her usual jeans and black shirt. He stared at her dumbly for what seemed like half an hour, then she rolled her turquoise eyes at him like he was totally stupid. Which was a fact that Peter had come to accept over time. "Internal Combustion! That's number one...Here, just take mine for a sec."

Sneakily he snatched the paper from her hand set it on his table. "Thanks Michelle. Such a lifesaver."

He could practically hear the smile in her whisper. " You'd be failing without me, Pete."

"Ms. Coleman, Why are you distracting poor Mr. Parker?" Mr. Haley asked sharply, making Peter cringe. He was certain she was too. " Would you like to share what you were discussing with Mr. Parker, or is it something too important for us to hear?"

"Daaaang, Parker!"Was a comment from behind him. He knew that annoying, eardrum bursting voice anywhere. Either a caveman was speaking, or Flash Thompson was about to say something stupid again. Not that there was a difference. "You weren't supposed to start flirting till you hit puberty!"

Aside from Michelle and himself, everyone else chuckled. Peter rested his chin his palm and muttered loudly: "Wow. Real witty, Eugene."

"Whatchu call me?"

"Gentlemen, let's quiet ourselves." Mr. Haley spoke sharply. "Interruptions will not be tolerated here. Another problem out of one of you earns a detention."

In an abrupt motion, the door to the classroom swung open. The first person to enter was the counselor of the school, clad in a buttoned up shirt and thick glasses. He nodded once to and cleared his throat to speak to the rest of the class. "Hey everyone."

The class remained blankly stared at him, causing a brief span of silence. The counselor's words sparked deja vu within Peter.

"...Well! I'm sorry to interrupt class for you all, but I would like to introduce a new student to the school. " He stepped in a little further to make way for an unseen person. "Come on in."

The new student briskly walked into the room. Peter raised an eyebrow at seeing a tall, platinum blonde girl in front of the classroom with crossed arms and an all too well presented stoic look. Besides the disinterested look, she wore a navy blue shirt down past her waistline and sweatpants that were the darkest shade of grey. Turquoise eyes, completely aloof in their gaze, sat above pink lips formed in a line. To sum up her look, she seemed like the kind of person who just didn't care.

"This," The Counselor spoke. " is Sha-reese? Right?"

"Cerise." Her voice corrected blankly, her eyes begging to roll.

"Oh. Right! Well, I'll leave you to get settled in your class, Cerise." He nodded at Haley, who nodded back and watched the counselor leave. Then he turned to the girl, glancing at the seats left open in his classroom. Not that there were many to begin with: just one next to Peter and two others in the back of the room.

"Since you're here this late, we won't have you take the notes yet. Why don't you sit next to Peter over there? The left of that nice young gentleman with the brown hair. "

Huh. What are the odds... Peter waised lazily and awkwardly, getting her attention at the price of snickers from Flash. The girl sat down without another glance at the boy nor were any words spoken to him. Which was fine by Peter; he'd learned the hard way that talking to girls(not including friends and family) was something he sucked at big time. The last thing he wanted was to have someone else stare at him weird.

So, for pretty much the rest of the lecture on heat transfer and conservation, Peter wrote down whst was needed for his notes and didn't glance anywhere but the board. It wasn't until the last five minutes of class that he was interrupted from finishing a sentence.

"*Ahem*...Vous...I mean, you."

He looked to his left and Cerise was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Do you mind if I keep your notes until tommorow?"

Her heavy accent didn't stump him at all; he recognized French when he heard it. Did this mean she was a transfer from somewhere else? Peter blinked to clear his thoughts and dumbly handed over the paper to her. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

"Merci." She muttered it quietly; he assumed it was thanks, and turned away once more. The rest of the day he didn't spot her, except at lunch when she sat at a lone table and far away in Geometry.

The school day was finally over and she was finally out of the last class. Time was unbearably slow for Cerise as she journeyed from class to class and that slow time was filled with peers staring and occasionally trying to greet her as if she were shy. She was anything but shy; moreso determined to not talk with anyone. The last thing on her mind was to make small talk about whatever it was they talked about there.

She walked out of the school doors along with the other two hundred or so students,who either flocked to their respectful rides or to groups to gossip away the evening. They sat around the outdoor lunch tables in huge clusters, stood against the wall or ran around with heaps of laughter in the air. On her way to the sidewalk, Cerise often noticed that a specific group of girls sent not-too friendly glances in her direction when she passed them. She hoped that they would actually say something to her; she needed amusement at a place like this.

"Hey, Cherry!" The teen's brow formed a straight line at the sound of the voice. It obviously belonged to one of those football- confident types. Sure enough, a tall muscular blonde lumbered over to her with a cheesy grin in hand. "I see you walk home."

" en effet." She regretted stopping, but did so anyway.

"...uh, okay. " He responded, obviously deterred by her word choice for the briefest of moments. " How about I walk ya home, huh?"

She twitched involuntarily, and shoved her hands in her pockets to avoid a nasty comment being spit at him. She need to save her comments for later. "No."

"Aw, come on." He stepped in front of her when she turned to talk away. "This is Queens! You could get robbed."

"...Do you think I'm weak?"

"Huh?...Uh,no."

"chouette." Cerise countered with a sarcastic grin, sidestepping him with ease and continuing to walk away. "Then I'm walking alone."

She had managed to walk a good five feet away from the guy at a casual pace when she gasped; something smacked her right in the rear. Cerise whirled around with a signature glare and immediately spotted the football at her heels, and then a guy right behind the one she'd talked to.

"Sorry." He said. She knew he wasn't sorry, and had been aiming for that specific spot. "I missed hitting him."

Cerise picked up the football and chucked it at him, only for the boy to catch it. She watched him smugly grin at her, while the other boy chuckled. "Heh. Nice arm."

The football suddenly exploded in his hands, bits of the ball flying up to smack him in the face and leaving a very painful stinging sensation in his palms. He shrieked at the pain and at the jumpscare, while the other boy looked on in horror. "My football! What did you do, man?!"

The other couldn't respond through his shrieks, something that made Cerise faintly smirk and continue walking away from them. After that hilarious ending, she found herself crossing the streets during the final minutes of rush hour and enduring a few random honks from cars. She stalked over another, less busy street and began to make a beeline down the sidewalk to get the subway stairs. Random buildings stood there as she passed them by, along with people of all different kinds and all different looks. Through the masses of citizens, she could spot a very familiar person that she was approaching from the side.

"Thanks." Peter murmured to the cart owner just loud enough that she could hear it and stalked away from the hot dog cart with the titular food item in hand, only to bump his shoulder into her chest. He blushed rapidly at seeing that he'd ran into her and his lips moved in a blur. "Ohmygoshimsosorryaboutthatididntseeyouthere-"

"I-It's fine." She reluctantly told him. Cerise got a whiff of the hot dog and frowned at how oddly enticing it smelled, even if she was reluctant to buy one. She looked down at the hot dog for only a moment, but he still noticed her look.

"It's a frank-er, a hot dog." He explained to her with a shrug and half a smile. After a few seconds of silence and her uncertain look, he spoke to the owner of the cart again. "L-Let's have another one. I'll p-pay for it later, Tom. Promise."

"Retarder..er-No." Cerise spoke up awkwardly. He already seemed nervous just talking to her(which might've hinted at his social life in school), so owing a guy over food for her would be...weird, right? She usually bought her own food anyway. "You don't need-"

"It'll be free." The cart owner shrugged to him and soon handed her another hotdog, with a thin line of ketchup across it. "Enjoy!"

Before heading towards the subway again, she bobbed her her head to him once. Imagine her surprise at seeing Peter follow her down as well, barely noticing her until she blocked his path down the stairs. "What are you doing?"

"Fhlam..." He held up a finger and swallowed the chewed up hot dog. "I'm about to head down a-and wait for the subway."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. I'm serious! I live on Appleleaf drive, in that big apartment on the block. " Peter continued, raising an eyebrow at her and chuckling. "What- Didja think I was following you?"

Cerise didn't respond to him, just turned slowly and continued to walk down the stairs. Once she stepped foot on the bottom, she heard a mumbled question, as if he weren't sure about asking it. The blonde turned around and eyeballed him. "Am I what?"

"A-Are you from France?" The boy repeated, shrugging his backpack on more securely. "It's just...you kinda sound French...?"

"...Yes. I'm from France." Nearby and hanging from the ceiling was a sign with lit-up words/numbers. Below the title 'Queens Plaza' were departure times. They were there two minutes early for the 4:00 departure, along with a mob of other people. "I've been here for two years...learned English then...you can tell I still slip."

"Oh...Two years? How come I haven't seen you before?"

"Homeschooling...It's complicated. " Cerise told him reluctantly and fell silent.

Peter seemed to leave it at that, and she began to get used to the silence. But just when she thought that the train would come any second, his next question struck her ears. "Do you hate this place?"

That caught her off guard so much that all she could do was give him a surprised look. "I...uh..."

"Eh, I can tell you do." Peter shrugged nonchalantly, glancing down at the train tracks when a metallic him filled the air. "You liked wherever you were and wish you'd stayed there, right?"

"...yeah. I guess you could say that."

"I wish I'd stayed where I was too." Was the response. "I wish I'd stayed home."

She snorted to conceal a chuckle; it was slightly funny. "No kidding?"

"No kidding." He shook his head and frowned. "My Aunt May, she-she only wants me out of the 'house' because she thinks I snore too loud."

"Heh... ma mère ..." Cerise paused for a moment to think: was she actually allowing herself to talk with someone? If so, she was too far in to stop now, right? "Er...my mom thinks it'll be fun at school for me."

Peter's lips formed a straight line as he tsked. "Nope. School is not the place for it...It's a jungle. I'm lucky to be alive after this long."

He might've said something else to her, but the roar of the train as it slowed down drowned it out. People muttered while they all clamored onto the train, and Peter was slightly carried away by the current of people. He looked back at her, gave her an exaggerated shrug and walked on. She soon managed to get on as well, searching through the crowds of standing civilians for a possible seat. She coicindentally discovered Peter ten seconds into the search, seated next to an empty chair and about to put in earbuds.

...Pourquoi pas? Cerise sighed through her nostrils and walked over to him.

The suit felt like regular skin to him, as if was overall just him. When he zoomed through the air on his webline it didn't feel slightly clumsy like his old suit did, because it seemed sleeker and well fitting...and just cool. The goggles that could focus in or move on physical command only added to the list of good things he had to say about it. He really owed Mister Stark one for this.

His fingers flicked into the usual position and another thick stream of his webline smacked into the gargoyle attached to a building, carrying him a short swinging distance before he landed nonchalantly on a lower rooftop. The boy crept to the edge of the roof to gaze down upon the city of Queens...the city he protected whenever he got away from his Aunt and the restraints of High school. The latter of which was hard to leave behind for a little while, as evidenced by the fact that he'd forgotten to take his backpack off back at the alley he'd changed in. Thanks to Peter having taken the subway to get to school even before the infamous bite, he could stay out as his friendly neighborhood self for almost as long as he wished and use the same excuse for being home late all the time. Thank goodness homework was getting scarce now that his grades were officially branded 'B Honor roll'.

He jolted suddenly when his vibrating phone jumpscared him. To his utter relief, it wasn't Aunt May. "Hey, Mister Stark."

"Squeaky voice! Always hilarious to hear from you." The response made him roll his eyes. People may complain about him trying to be funny during sentences, but Tony made him look quiet. And with a nickname like Squeaky voice, he wished he was quiet. "You never called since yesterday! I missed you."

"That's awful sweet coming from you. I was a little busy in school. Ever heard of it?"

"Pfft! Heck no! What is this school you speak of, oh random ally of mine?"

Peter chuckled dryly; the memory of him standing amongst the likes of Black widow or War Machine was just too funny. What kind of skill set did he have to bring to the table? A few cobwebs, decent strength and a mouth that never shut up. "Well, Sorry to get any hopes up, but I'm doing patrol right now."

"Darn it. Would have been nice to have a fellow science buddy tinker with stuff..." He trailed off, and Peter pondered if he was literally imaging that. "...um, anyways! I hear there's a high speed chase on 36th. But not between cops, or so the transmitter says."

"Probably two road ragers. I'll go handle it now. Thanks for the info, Mister Stark... Ill , uh...I'll see you later I guess."

"Yes you will, kid." He could practically hear the smile in his voice, before he could hear nothing else at all.

Spider-man stretched his arms over his head for a few seconds, and leaped off of the building when he finished warming up. His body ripped through the air on his journey downwards half as fast as a speeding bullet, and the shaped goggles protected his eyes from the winds. His arm shot out at the same time that he flicked out a webline to swing from and he found himself moving even faster as his momentum grew. Below him and not far in front of him, Peter spotted the vehicles chasing each other at top speed through slower cars and ramming them aside with ease. Before he could judge how to safely clog the wheels up, loud winds surged forward a few feet below his swinging body. A huge, thick sphere of air angrily circled itself and hovered swiftly above the roofs of other cars at a horizontal level with the ground. It seemed to be chasing the speeding vehicles as well.

"Huh." Spider-man focused in on the sphere. "That's new."

Alright! I think that's a good spot to end.

Leave a review please; whether negative or positive, I'd like feedback on the story. Ideas, even. Not to say I don't have an idea for the future of this story, but your help would still be appreciated.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and all the little easter eggs in it! See you later.