Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A/N: Hi all, thanks for reading this! I really hope you enjoy it.

This fic is a depiction of the formation of Avengers in the 1980s (because who doesn’t love that era?), and is in the same continuity as my other X-Men fics (set in the prequel Fox X-Men films universe). You don’t need to read them (as it’s not a cross over and this fic will be self isolated), but if you like character based X-Men stories, please feel free. I just liked the idea of making that universe’s version of the Avengers.

It's also a stand alone sequel to my other Avengers story, A Rough Start to Things, where the Avengers unite for the first time to fight a cosmic vampire. None of the plot points are explicitly referenced in this story, but please feel free to read it.

With the continuity explained, please enjoy!

***

The bright lights of an evening New York City suddenly fizzed with a bright yellow light, overwhelming many senses. The cool night air did little to ease the incredible headache within Peter’s brain. Each swing, each jump, each movement, it all seemed to only fan the pain. He did his best to ignore it, he had to, for he had better things to concentrate on. The feeling of a bolt of electricity barely striking his ribs, for example, was something that Peter thought was more important than his mind. As he curled into a ball and spun himself into the air, the teen managed to avoid a lethal strike to his body. His teeth gritted. His body was getting slower, and he knew that he was getting more tired. Sleepless nights were not suiting his body, it seemed. At least, not as he dipped and dived over and over again, all the more desperate to avoid strike after strike. He succeeded, though. As he swung back onto the scarred and hissed brick rooftop, he was untouched.

The man before him was insulted by that fact. His pale face curled into a severe rage that made Peter’s breathing become uneven, as it often was with Max. Max Dillon was always a very unpleasant man to look at, and Peter often felt his anxieties flares just from the man looking at him. His pale, exposed arms were already covered in scar tissue, a gift from the day that he first gained his powers. His neck was also cut, though that was from a life of horrific abuse from cruel parents. On many an occasion, Peter had done his best to try to ease Max’s rage, to form some kind of humanity within the murderous lunatic that had killed nearly a dozen people in rather brutal ways. Nothing succeeded, though. It all ended the same. As soon as Max felt that he was emotionally exposed, he became dangerously defensive and tried to strike at Peter with lethal intent. Peter still tried, though. Perhaps it was Aunt May, but he never stopped feeling guilty or pity for Max and those of similar ilk. There were clearly more scars than just physical when it came to the man.

“Maxy, Maxy M…You know, I don’t like that name for you. Reminds me of a pug. Anyway, look…”

Max broke out into a wide grin, marked with the three teeth that his father had knocked out when he was a mid-teen and caught stealing for the first time. His dark hair suddenly straightened like a porcupine’s quills, and he rose into the air as Peter rested on top of a rooftop door.

“You’ve never liked my new name, have you kid?” He suddenly laughed in a high-pitched cackle, “It’s less boring than ‘Spider-Man’, at least in my opinion.”

“Hmm. See, I think ‘Electro’ is just lazy. I’m still insulted that you didn’t pick ‘Dazzling Electric Fiend’ or ‘D.E.F.’. Such a waste.”

“If I come across another man as powered as me, I’ll send them your way.” Electro grinned.

Peter’s spine tightened. Without thinking, the teen immediately leapt into the air. Electro had subtly kicked his foot forwards, sending a small but still painful volt towards Peter. The teen spun, swinging his way so that he was behind the increasingly bright villain. With decreased patience, Electro continued rising into the air. His skin glowed a brilliant hue of gold as electricity began to pour from his body. An ever-shifting crown of electricity with three prongs rested on his forehead. His dark green vest now shone brightly in the evening. Without looking, he threw his arm back and shot yet another stream of electricity at Peter. The teen immediately let go of his web, dropped several metres and shot forward another stream, hurling himself high into the air again.

Electro used the distraction to return to his primary focus. On the fifteen floor of an apartment towards the end of the street was within site. While the street below was deserted, excluding the pooling police, the houses and homes were still full of those thinking themselves as safe. Electro practically snarled as he aimed a palm at one house in particular. His heartbeat increased as a thrill and sharp joy raced through his system, only for confusion and rage to overcome him. A shot of web club to his wrist before yanking him down towards the rooftop. As he did, he immediately turned to shoot a bolt towards the nearby Spider-Man, striking him in the leg just as Electro rolled onto the gravel.

Peter shouted loudly. Every muscle in his body burnt and tightened, before a series of horrid spasms overtook his body. The red and blue hero dropped near to Electro, grimacing and wincing as the faint smell of burning filled his nose. He was able to look up. A still-crowned Electro was rising to his feet, his face turned to Peter with a severe look of hatred. Peter immediately snapped his wrist upwards, managing to shoot a thick glob of web into his opponent’s shoulder. The man grunted deeply as his shoulder nearly popped from the socket. As he turned to face forwards once more, a sudden force impacted with his chest, knocking all air from his lungs. The man flew back into the door, almost cracking it. Before he could fall to his knees, a layer of thick webbing coated his chest, making him seethe.

Peter did drop to his knees. The electric shock of gently punching Electro was almost enough to make him convulse again. His fist was numb, and struggling to respond to his commands. It was nothing that he couldn’t sleep off, he hoped. He was always optimistic about his healing capabilities, even if they didn’t necessarily pan out to be as powerful as expected. The teen slowly rose, ignoring his quivering thighs. As if there were heavy tires around his feet, Peter trudged forwards towards a murderous looking Electro. His crown had finally faded.

“This make you feel good? Playing the Grade A law keeper?”

“Max,” Peter sighed, breathless, “You’re wanted for like…six murders from last year alone. I’m not gonna argue with you. I failed my debate team.”

The last comment made Max grin widely. A sardonic chuckle left him.

“Same. Wanna know why? The day of the big debate, I was so excited that I accidently knocked off a wine bottle from the kitchen counter. Wanna guess how I got my first broken leg?”

His smile never faded, making Peter’s stomach twist.

“I…I…”

“You…You…” Max mocked, “That was the first conviction, thanks to you. Wanna explain the fairness in that?”

“Max, you killed him in cold blood. There are laws and we follow them. Otherwise, it’s chaos, and-”

“Jesus Christ!” Electro suddenly broke out laughing, making a level of agitated heat flush through Peter’s spine, “You really are young, aren’t you? Six convictions, right?”

Peter slowly walked forwards, waiting for the police to inevitably notice that the lightshow had ended and to investigate. It always happened the same. Peter would fight, Peter would sometimes win, and then Peter would be shot at by the boys in blue. It always made for a very interesting evening to ever-tired teen.

“More than that, Max. We both know that.” Peter muttered, sitting across from the webbed man.

“Yeah?” Electro rose his eyebrows, “Guess I lost count.”

Peter’s spine tightened. Without hesitation, he leapt to the side as Electro bellowed loudly. Several pulses of electricity escaped his now glowing body, singeing the webbing and releasing him. Without pause, he threw several beams of electricity at Peter, making the teen duck and dive without having time to do anything else. Metre by metre, Peter found himself being pushed off of the side of the rooftop, finally losing his footing as he tried to avoid a strike to the head. As he dipped below the ceiling level, Electro felt desperation once more.

He didn’t have much time. He rose into the air once more. He opened his palm again and prepared. An agonised noise escaped something close to him as he felt what was clearly a shoulder knocking into his ribs. Electro’s body stiffened in shock as he was thrown onto the gravel. Before he could understand what was happening, he was on his back and webbed to a door, and a swift force struck his head. His body relaxed immediately, and Electro suddenly became aware that his eyes were open and that he was looking around. The disorientation lasted for several seconds until a shaking and steaming Spider-Man trod next to him. His suit was several burnt and torn in many places, making Electro suddenly understand where he was. The man tried to summon an electrical wave once more, but his body and mind were sluggish and not quite understanding the command. He was concussed.

“You…You’re an arsehole.” Electro croaked.

Peter’s jaw was stiffly shut, as were his eyes. His breathing was deep as he did his best to ride through the extreme aftershocks of such an electric exposure. Eventually, he was able to stand above Electro, who was clearly struggling as well. It wasn’t a hard punch. Peter had been very careful with it. Though, given the clear mumbling and the dilated eyes, the punch was enough to slow him down.

“I know, but you can’t…go killing people.”

“Yeah?” Electro whispered, nodding towards the apartment block that he was targeting, “Guy was friends with my father. Wanna know what he used to do with me and other friends’ kids if we made too much noise in the yard?”

Peter was quiet, not wanting to hear the rest of the story. He didn’t have the stomach for it, and he never wanted to, either. Electro seemed to read the silence well.

“I’ve never hurt anyone that didn’t hurt me as a kid. Even when I was with the Sinister Six. Those bastards? Those bastards from home got to move on, live their lives. What about me? Huh? I got screwed over again and again.”

“That doesn’t justify anythi-”

“Coming from a nice home, right?”

The comment succeeded in getting under Peter’s skin. Before he could stop himself, he was close to Electro and thrusting a finger downwards.

“You don’t know what I’ve dealt with, Max. So just stop and-”

“I know you were beaten or cut. Had bones broken over your parents losing jobs. Never had a family friend laugh as his dog took pieces out of ya.”

Electro leaned back, resting his rest on the door. The pair became quiet as the looming sound of police sirens grew. Soon, Electro’s expression turned bitter as he stared off to the apartment complex.

“You must be a kid. Even without the voice, I’d know you were one.”

“Yeah?” Peter asked quietly.

“It’s the ignorance and the stupidity. You have all your power. All that you can do. And look at you. You can put me away, but that’ll never make anyone who fucked with me get any justice.”

“You could’ve gone to the pol-”

“And then what? Parents were kind enough. Didn’t leave too many visible signs of issues.” Electro grinned, baring his missing teeth again, “Too many voices against the one. Too many years have passed, and now? That asshole,” Electro nodded towards the apartments again, “He gets to retire soon. His office is gonna give him a fucking medal for long service. A medal.”

Electro shook his head before breaking into a humourless laugh. Peter felt his brow furrow.

“Arrest me. Doesn’t change anything. All that power and your scared to use it in a way that actually fixes problems.”

“What would hurting him fix?”

“Me.” Growled Electro, his voice breaking at the end, “Me. But no, it’s just too easy to arrest me instead of permanently putting down someone who assaulted kids. What a fucking hero you are, kid.”

The sirens grew louder and louder. Peter began to slowly walk back as Electro soon realised what was about to happen. Once more, he shook his head.

“Do you feel better? Do you honestly feel better that for all your power, he’s just waiting there, safe?"

Peter’s jaw clenched tightly. For the briefest of moments, his good hand flexed tightly.

“Be sure to tell the nice people at S.H.I.E.L.D. I miss them.” Peter muttered, his usual jovial mood gone.

With a leap into the air and a swing of some web, Peter disappeared into the city as several dozen people stormed the rooftop. He ducked down, soon landing on the side of a nearby building. A blob of web was nestled into the brick, supporting a camera that was still clicking. With a sigh, Peter gingerly picked it up and leapt off of the building once more. Perhaps he had gathered some interesting photos for work.

Despite the evening being a relative success, excluding the severe burns to his body, Peter felt no joy or excitement. His mood was dim as he flung himself from tower to tower. A faint guilt was whispering to him. Max was a horrible man, one with a lot of death on his hands. He was a criminal and had tried to kill Peter many times over his years as a hero. Yet, a sickening part of Peter couldn’t entirely blame him. As much as he tried to ignore it, there was an understanding to Max’s point. Sometimes people just got off, free of any consequences, despite the horror of their actions. They lived, they worked, they died. Some didn’t even work. It was just life, and the unfairness of society. Peter didn’t have any ability to change that. He certainly didn’t have any right to go on vendettas that ended in death. He didn’t want to. But, a horrible part of them could understand the need to. Such a thought plagued the gloomy teen as he slowly swung his way to his apartment.

He didn’t feel better, if he were to answer Max’s question. He didn’t feel better at all.

***

Jennifer Walters bit her lip, eyeing the scene before her closely. It was a darkly lit motel room, with a red tint in all of the lamps. It was a horrible, sleazy set of décor. The rug beneath her boots was grimy and thick, having turned from red and yellow to utter black and faded orange. The walls were lined with artistic paper that was torn or dangling, revealing bare white. Faint music was playing through the long corridor that Jennifer stepped through. From the softness that she could actually hear, it seemed to be disco music. Horrible disco music.

Door by door, she passed them all. She didn’t want to know what disgusting acts had been going on behind them. Unfortunately, she was about to. That was no doubt why she was even in the lowly place, over seven foot and with dark emerald skin. Her gloved knuckles were already stained with a small amount of thick red, a souvenir from the guards outside. The lights flickered some more, showering her purple and white suit in poor light. Her bare arms flexed as she neared the door at the rear of the corridor, her mind shouting and chanting as she revved herself up. With a mild set of deep breaths and a thundering heart, a large fist caved in the door.

A set of panicked shouts lifted through the room as the jade giant marched into the room. Six guns were already pointed at her, three of them shaking. Those were the ones that had heard about her, it seemed. The room was a large mix of a personal office and a bedroom. Many tables lined the ebony black wall, filled with paperwork. A small bar filled with half drunk bottles was towards the back. Towards the right of the room was a large set of sofas and cushioned seats, all resting above a white tiger’s skin that served as the rug. Many of the guards were spread out across the room, whilst several other occupants were huddled on one of the seats.

Several woman, all of whom as bare as the day they were born, were shaking. Their eyes wide and moving quivering, they did the only thing that they could think off: crawl to the corner of the couch furthest away from the giant woman. They were young, too, all of which were of different races or skin tones. In the middle of them was an older man, nearing his sixties. He boasted a bushy moustache and a thick mane of hair, which his rolled his hand through as he took in his newest guest. Unlike the four terrified women around him, he was fully clothed in a tacky grey business suit, other than the fact that his pants were open. He was calm, almost too much so. His leathery hand reached for the cigar resting on a glass collector and he took a long drag from it. Touching the embers against the glass once more, he looked up with a small look of contemplation.

“You must be the She-Hulk that’s been scaring so many of my friends.” He leaned back, even placing an arm around one of the girls, “Thanks for that. Big boom on business.”

Jennifer said nothing. Instead, she simply looked back at the six men holding handguns at her face or chest. She was not exactly impressed. The guards outside of the underground brothel had been more interesting, as at least one of them had brought a machete into the fight. Not many tried that against Jennifer, making a welcomed change of pace. It shattered on her forearm, however, just as she threw the man into a wall by the collar.

“You can turn yourselves in, or I will. I don’t care which.” Jennifer warned.

The man chuckled again. Sticking his cigar in his mouth, he looked at the girls around him as if they were having a social visit. The fact that none of them could meet his eyes didn’t seem to deter him. The sheer casualness of the man made Jennifer’s jaw clench. There was no shame to his actions, no guilt. To jab at Jennifer’s pride, there didn’t appear to be any fear of her, either. If there was, he was hiding it exceptionally well.

“I could.” The man nodded, “One way, I serve nearly forty years in a box where I shit near where I sleep. The other way, I wind up with most of my bones broken and I serve nearly forty years in a box where I shit near where I sleep. Which one would you pick?” He turned, asking the dark girl next to him.

The woman was shivering, turning to look back at Jennifer with horror in her eyes. It was within that moment that Jennifer remembered a rather consistent issue from the last several weeks of her work. The girl didn’t speak or probably understand English. She had no idea what was transpiring. Jennifer doubted that any of the girls in front of her could understand. They didn’t need to. Being shouted out and thrown into different rooms with naked men was a pretty clear instruction of what they needed to do to avoid being beaten or worse. It was a situation that made Jennifer’s mouth taste like bile. The tall woman took a step back, putting herself out of the way of the door. With a loud click, she thrusted her finger towards it.

“Go. Now.”

All of the girls moved without hesitation.

“Oh, no. Don’t be rude, dears.” The man chuckled with forced politeness.

His hand was the on the back of two necks, pulling them back down to him. Several guns changed direction, and the women shrieked in terror as barrels were pointed towards them. One openly started to sob, making Jennifer’s eyes narrow. The man chuckled, once more throwing an arm around one of the women.

“You stand down, or we shot.”

“You shot, and you don’t have hostages.”

“Yeah, but I have a hunch you won’t press me on this.” His smug face shifted into one of mediation, “Look, I just want to walk out of here. I’ll get up, we’ll get into a car, and you’ll never hear from me again. I’ll close up shop, and-”

“Start smuggling in girls somewhere else.”

“Scout’s honour, I won’t.” The man stated proudly, his hand on his heart.

Jennifer’s fists clenched at his tone, but she was careful to do nothing else. Seeing that she wasn’t going to do anything, the man beamed. He clicked his fingers. Several of the men grabbed a woman each, making them wail in confusion and fear. The sounds and scene pumped adrenaline into Jennifer’s veins, her heart racing loudly in her ears. An intense desire to charge filled her mind, so much so that it was difficult to focus. As the men and women all rose before her, Jennifer had a decision to make. The man before her grinned as the giant green woman stepped backwards. His eyes lewdly looked up and down her figure, imagine what she would look like without the shorts, boots or tight-fitting top.

“Shame this is how we end our first meeting. I’d have loved to have seen how big those breasts really are.” He grinned, “Could’ve paid for a small house for you if I did.”

Jennifer said nothing. Motionless, she watched the group carefully stepped through the door. At no point did any of them take their eyes off of her. Nearly a minute passed of slow, agonised steps as the men pulled the girls backwards towards the front door. Even as they neared the front door, which led to a small parking lot underneath the bridge, their guns were aimed at the shaking girls in their hands. The mouths of many of the guards were twitching, sweat covering their foreheads. As they neared the door, the first guard roughly kicked it open and pushed his hostage through. Jennifer stayed where she was, standing by the doorframe of the office. As soon as the front door shut, she sprinted forwards. Within a matter of seconds, she quietly shifted the door open to see the group pooling by something. One by one, the guards pushed themselves into a small, unnoticeable car without a numberplate. One by one, the girls were roughly thrown onto the pavement, left to shake in the cold, evening air. Guns were still aimed at them as the men entered, all of whom were staying at Jennifer with apprehension. The last to enter was the man in charge. His smile was wide as he held onto the darkest of the women, his own gun at her spine and a hand gently caressing her neck. Her eyes were widen, staring at Jennifer pleading as she sobbed.

“I think I’ll keep this one. Insurance that you won’t try anything.”

Jennifer said nothing, once more preferring to control any rising emotional outbursts. It would help no one, not in this situation. Instead, she subtly eyed the distance between the car, the girls on the road, and the man holding the last remaining victim. The man continued, his leg already in the car as its motor roared.

“If you follow me, I’ll kill her. Slowly. It’s a shame given how beautiful she is, but I’ll start with the cheeks. Make her smile wid-”

“I’m sorry.”

Jennifer suddenly leaned forwards and clapped her large hands together. The air around them cracked. A rush of wind shot away from her hands in many directions, knocking all of the women over again. The man skidded backwards, shouting as his leg was caught within the door, breaking it. The woman within his grasp shot back onto the gravel, making Jennifer felt sharp regret. It was needed, though, as it gave everyone distance from the gunmen. The car jilted forwards, and confusing shouts were heard within. Jennifer hastily looked at the women, still on the ground, and bucked her chin back towards the illegal brothel. Without a second of waiting, the women pushed themselves off of the pavement and ran with everything that they had left away from the terror that was about to unfold.

Jennifer swiftly walked towards the car. Her feet began to crack the ground below with the pressure that she was pushing on them. Several doors were already open, with Jennifer not even looking at the men that were shooting at her, screaming at her. Her outfit was already ruined, so she didn’t bother trying to avoid the bullets shattering upon her skin. She’d need another trip to Janet’s, it seemed.

As Jennifer walked near the ringleader, he managed to reach into his pocket and unloaded several rounds directly at her face. More irritating than anything, like a fly dancing on your nose, Jennifer covered her face before reaching for the gun. With a single flex, the metal cracked in her palm. The man was silent, his eyes wide as the gravity sunk into him for the first time of that evening. With a feral grunt, Jennifer pulled him up and threw him on the car’s bonnet. His screams filled the air as he clung to his bleeding leg, whimpering pathetically. Jennifer’s nose flexed. Someone had shot her nose. With a raised eyebrow, she turned her head to look at the guards. As soon as it was clear that their guns were pointless, they began to slowly step backwards. Jennifer released the man’s throat, turning her full attention to the others. They were already sprinting away. With a frustrated and sicken noise, Jennifer ripped a car door from its hinges and eyed the growing distance between two of the guards. She lined up her back. With a spin, Jennifer grunted as she threw the door forwards and into the air. A level of satisfaction grew as metal collided with the backs of several legs, knocking the two men into the ground with a terrified scream. She walked towards them.  

None held any severe wounds, outside of possibly a broken leg within one man screaming like a roaring lion. Other than that, the scum was relatively well-kept for having a car door thrown at him. Squatting down so that the men could see her face, she began to harden her expression.

“There’s still three more doors. Try to run or even move, I’ll throw another.”

The men stared at her coldly, one of them managing to do so whilst wincing. That was enough of a confirmation for the woman.

“You’ll be giving the police the names of the other two men.” Jennifer instructed fiercely as she turned back towards the man on the car.

He chuckled miserably. He was still desperately clutching the bleeding leg, and his skin looked slightly paler than before. It was due to that fact that the man could only manage a sneer as he made eye contact with Jennifer.

“You enjoy breaking innocent people’s legs, you freak?”

“I enjoy stopping freaks like you, yes.” Jennifer replied in a low tone, “Those weren’t the first girls you kidnapped and brought here. Far from it, so I advise you practice your right to silence. I take it you had a phone in your office? I have a quick call to the cops to make.”

It was true. Her eyes were wide open, despite it being the early hours of the morning. Her heart was pounding, her lip curled in a victorious grin. No one killed and no women harmed, which sadly had not been the case for all of Jennifer’s recent ventures. Some had been shot, thrown into Jennifer as a deflection tactic by cowards, or had knives pressed into them. Not that night, however. Jennifer had succeeded, and for that, she was ecstatic. As she walked towards the brothel once more, she did her best to remain focussed. The women were still scared and inside, no one had been arrested, the police hadn’t even arrived. There was plenty more to do before she could disappear into the night. That being said, as she smiled comfortingly at the women hiding in one of the rooms, she could help but think one thing: it had been a successful night and people were helped. For that, she was happy.

***

The aggressive sound of metal meeting metal made Peter jump off of the bed like a cat. His entire body erupted in agony as he did so, as many fresh burns suddenly felt very hot and raw. It took the teen some time to gingerly let himself out of his small, messy bed. His sleepiness faded as soon as he saw the small metal clock shaking by his bed. It was nearly ten. Ten. He had overslept for hours. The damn alarm clock had done it again. For something that was found by an alleyway on patrol one night, it really wasn’t worth repairing. It never worked at all. With a limp and a whine, the teen scurried about his small apartment. Apartment was generous. It was more a single room with a bed, a fridge, some shelves for cooking equipment and even clothes, an extremely small bathroom, and a very small table nestled next to his bed. Still, it was his and at least he could afford it. He didn’t want to feel guilty and need Aunt May to help cover the rent.

As he stumbled into the bathroom, he winced as he saw himself. A very lanky teen with some developing muscle, albeit not much, that was covered in poorly applied bandages. He needed an actual doctor. His mind drifted to visiting his usual one after classes, and hastily ignored any pain as he brushed his teeth. His eyes were still glassy and decorated with dark bags underneath them, showing no signs of easing as he slowly woke up. Not caring if the clothes were dirty or not, let alone if they looked good, the teen threw on the nearest clothes. He did nothing about the messy mop of brown hair on his head, and simply waddled out to grab his backpack. A sharp pain rose as a burn on his back rubbed against the material. With one last detour to collect his film reel, Peter ran as fast as he could tolerate. The apartment building was unusually quiet, though that was no doubt as everyone had already gone to work. His foot tapped against the elevator floor in agitation as he peered at his watch. He’d already missed one class, perhaps he could make the others. He didn’t need his grades to drop even lower, let alone to get a fail for non-attendance.

Peter hastily walked to the nearest bus stop, eyeing the schedule plastered onto it.

“Crap. Crap. Crap.” He began to mutter.

With a flushed face and growing anxiety in his chest, Peter swiftly turned and ran back into his apartment. Two minutes later, he had returned to the street with one of the last objects that also rested in his apartment, an old bike. The helmet on his head was already cracked in many places, none of which were thankfully caused when Peter was riding his bike. More often than not, the helmet was simply on the receiving end of whenever a frustrated Peter had thrown it. His teeth dug into his lip as he pushed himself forwards, the pain slowly easing as his body got used to the sensation. With many awkward requests for people to get out of the way, Peter began his hasty journey towards his campus.

It was nearly one in the afternoon by the time that he had arrived. It was when he neared a bike rack that he realised that, in his haste, that he forgot something. The bike lock. A faint swear was muttered under his breath as Peter picked up his bike once more. Judging by the relative lack of student travel around the grounds, classes were still on. With his bike in hand, the teen tried to jog towards his class, earning many amusing looks. As he entered a building which housed many lecture theatres, Peter took a side to the left. Near a staircase was a white door with pigeonholes resting next to it. Peter had learnt several months ago that if possessions, such as a bike, for instance, were left near the staffroom, students were more reluctant to steal it. With a hope that it would not be one of those days where a student decided to rebel or prank a professor, Peter dropped his bike next to a ‘Dr. Mell’ and scrambled through several corridors. Finding the right door, he gently crept in.

It was already full of eager first years, many of whom were aggressively taking notes as the mechanical engineering lecturer gestured to a projected slide behind him. His speech temporarily halted as he noticed Peter doing his best to sneak into a seat at the back. An eyebrow was raised, but nothing else was said or done. A moment later, the lecture resumed. Peter slid into his seat, squinting at the screen as he tried to understand what he was looking at. It all became too confusing, and he soon turned to the slightly older man next to him.

“What…What have I missed?”

Peter sense of warmth and relaxation was abruptly cut off by a very rough sound. The teen shook awake, confused and unsettled. There were too many chairs and desks for it to be his apartment. With a pained noise, the last few minutes of his life sunk in, and he peered up to see a highly unimpressed professor staring down at him. The lecture hall was empty, and the open doors revealed the bustling streams of students running to their next classes. Peter sighed in embarrassment, for this was not the first time that this particular professor had caught him. The beak-nosed man peered down it him, his angular face sharply drawn into a scowl.

“You arrive late, and then spend the fifteen minutes that you’re actually here for sleeping. I could ask you to leave this class, Parker.”

The fact that the professor actually knew his name was a testament to the latter’s annoyance in the young man’s etiquette. Peter felt himself go red as he hastily pushed all of his things into his backpack. As he did so, his long-sleeved shirt rode up, revealing several of his bandages. His professor eyed them, before then examined how exhausted the teen looked.

“Mr. Parker, if something is causing you to not have the full college experience, we have services that you can talk to. Anonymously. We can see what we can do to improve living situ-”

“What? Oh. Oh! No, no. Nothing like that.” Peter chuckled, slowly standing up, “I got hit by a car when riding here a few days back. Just that, sir.”

“Hmm.”

The professor raised his eyebrow once more. With an unimpressed sigh, he flourished his arm and examined his watch. Another unimpressed sigh left him.

“Well, I need to prepare for the lab sessions. Mr. Parker, if I can offer some advice? You’re clearly overworking yourself. You spend more time here sleeping than working, which is a shame because your last paper was excellent.” Peter’s lip twitched, “A fool overfills his basket and tries to carry it up a mountain.”

“What?”

Another sigh left the older man.

“Take on less. You can’t do everything at once. If you’re not going to commit to college, then why come? Just something to think about.”

As the professor slowly made his way towards the door, Peter was left with a red face. A swirl of shame and guilt merged with his growing tiredness, making him feel very lethargic. It wasn’t his fault that Electro tried to murder someone last night and he was the closest hero there. Well, the only hero there outside of Strange. The latter, though, rarely was seen outside of his Sanctum, so in Peter’s mind he hardly counted.

Peter jumped slightly. Counting reminded him of mathematics, which in turn reminded him of his next class, one relating to understanding and developing complex equations for research. With a frustrated noise, Peter forced his heavy and aching body forwards and into the next class. It was going to be a long day, that much was clear. What Peter wouldn’t give for a decent sleep in…

***

Jennifer meekly sat prim and stiff as her superior, a rather blunt woman by the name of Samantha, continued concluding her rather severe defence of their client. It was a little overkill, in Jennifer’s opinion anyway, for a matter such as being accused of carjacking an ex-girlfriend’s car. While a serious issue, it was not exactly a hard case to push against given that the accused was filmed inside a gas station a state away when the alleged theft took place. It was no doubt that reason which was why the small courtroom was empty, bar some family members trying to support their respective side of the issue. Even the judge, an older lady with curled hair, seemed unimpressed that the proceedings had taken several weeks and four separate sittings to address.  

A sharp cracking sound made Jennifer jump, her pale cheeks turning red as she saw Samantha clicking her fingers at her. Without needing further prompting, Jennifer hurried through their stack of notes and passed the document being discussed to Samantha. The statement continued, leaving Jennifer to exhale softly and regain her calm composure. Her hands were already red from having played with them so many times during the sitting. They often were times that she was preparing to stand up and question a witness. While the room was filled with perhaps fifteen people, that was still too many people for the socially anxious woman. She was just excellent at hiding it and as being professional as needed whenever she addressed the court.

Jennifer had encountered something of an issue as a teen. Whilst highly academic gifted and with offers for scholarships into law, her dream profession, there was just the tiny issue of needing to actually talk to people, many people. Whenever she did, her mind would become cruel to her. Her chest would become tight, her stomach suddenly feeling very full and uncomfortably heavy, and her mouth would always be so painfully dry. Then there was the fact that she was simply awkward around people, never knowing what words to use or how to strike up a conversation that didn’t end with long, uncomfortable silences. Jennifer either over spoke and terrified people, or was silent altogether. People were just so…hard, sometimes.

The statement continued. The client to her far right was agitated, sweating. His once straight and smooth dark hair was now fizzy with the amounts of times that he had ruffled it during the session. Jennifer didn’t player him. Whilst a strong amount of evidence had been laid to say that he wasn’t guilty of theft, there certainly were a lot of arguments that he was the one that took the car. He was the former partner, after all. It all made Jennifer’s mind begin to drift. It was hardly the type of legal issue that kept her up at night. The client was a first-time offender. If charged, it’d no doubt be a hefty fine or community service. It was one of the easier situations, and Jennifer didn’t like easy. She had become a lawyer for the exact opposite reason, to aid those in incredibly difficult situation. Jennifer felt a strong sense of purpose helping those that were pinned for crimes that they clearly didn’t do. Even when she had first entered her current law firm and was just aiding in collecting precedence cases, there was a feeling that she was contributing to something. Such a feeling had a dulled in recent months. With a small promotion, which didn’t bring as much lasting joy as she’d have expected, Jennifer was suddenly the silent aid to her boss when it came to…less significant cases. Day after day, it slowly became a cycle of preparing the notes, asking the client many questions, sometimes asking the police for statements, and then shaking as she addressed the court. It was going through the motions, that was all that it was.

Movement shook Jennifer’s mind away from outer space. The closing statements were over. Samantha sat next to her, grumping about something as she roughly placed some notes on Jennifer’s side of the desk. Jennifer looked up, seeing an exasperated judge turn to the jury. The client was sweating as the judge directed the jury to deliberate, taking time to careful explain the rules and requirements of the process. As she did, Jennifer found herself mouthing them, having heard it dozens of times. The jury rose, led from the room. A moment later, the judge dismissed the court with an instruction to remain within the building. As Jennifer rose, something was pressed into her chest. A set of folders.

“Run these down to Faulkner, I think he’s on the third floor.”

Jennifer peered down at the notes, frowning.

“You…You were doing another case?”

Samantha’s eyes turned, seeing the client still positioned in his seat, alone, and quiet. He was entirely lost in his own thoughts of being convicted.

“He didn’t do it. The camera footage is enough to prove that. No point in wasting on conscious effort on a proven case. Which is why you need to be quick. The jury will be out soon.”

“I really think we shou-”

“Jennifer,” Samantha drawled, her eyes suddenly looking very tired, “Do what I said.”

Jennifer bit back a nervous response. Turning away from an owl-like stare, the short woman hastily jogged from the courtroom, politely yet awkwardly excusing herself as she passed through the guards by the doors. Most of her job involved passing notes, one way or another. It was all just so monotonous, repetitive. While excitement was something concerning to the rage monster, some work life thrills would be appreciated. Anything. It was for that reason that her mind already drifted to the night ahead, to actually doing something productive. There was a time when she couldn’t have felt more fulfilled then when in a courtroom. Now, her mind fixated each day when she could leave it, when she was satisfied in herself and what she was doing for others. When she did enjoy her job.

***

Peter massaged his eyes once more, doing his best to focus. It was difficult, however. His more tuned senses made standing in a room smothered with a red glow barely tolerable. Unfortunately, he needed to shove himself into the environment at least once a week. The small photography studio on campus was willing enough to allow Peter’s usage in one of the smaller rooms, so long as he ‘told his friends and professors about it’. The complete silence of the entire floor was indication enough of how well the endeavour to get more student engagement was going.

Placing the tips of his fingertips on the edges of a photograph that was hanging on a string, Peter assessed how dry the image was. It was reasonable. He checked his watch. A few more minutes. One of the more annoying issues of selling such photos was the fact that his boss never quite seemed to take the time and effort needed to develop photos into consideration. Still, it was enough to pay rent, Peter morbidly guessed. It just meant that fancy restaurants were out of the question with his budget.

Restaurants. Peter’s face grew pale as he once more checked his watch. A pained exhale filled the room. Without any further thought, Peter grabbed a small paper packet from his backpack, opened it, and began placing the hanging images into it. They were developed, enough. Peter believed so, anyway, even if he wasn’t exactly in the position to analyse anything well. With a hasty and messy clean up and a turn off of the red lights, Peter sprinted from the studio. It always already evening, making Peter’s face became even more gaunt. Thankfully, there weren’t many fellow students wandering about. Practically leaping onto his bike, he raced forwards, only to immediately wince as his burns ached deep into his muscles. Much to his frustration, he wheeled himself at a far slower pace than desired.

As he entered the small Italian restaurant, he checked his watch yet again. Thirteen minutes was hardly late. He’d been far later in the past. With a polite explanation of his booking to a rather bored looking attendant, Peter was led to a small table where a young blonde was sitting, looking equally bored. She was one of Harry’s friends, Cynthia. No, Cait. No, Carla. Carla. Peter thought it was Carla, at least. It wasn’t like he organised these things. Peter’s childhood friend simply had the habit of throwing such dates upon him out of pity. As much as Peter would appreciate a girlfriend, he wished that the girls that Harry directed towards him just had some things in common with him. Dates usually ended in dullness or disaster due to that.

With an apologetic smile, Peter sat across from the cute blonde with a short nose and round cheeks. It took her a moment to realise that he was actually there and not a figment of her tired imagination. She, too, gave him an apologetic smile as she jumped back to life. She did her best to subtly scan Peter’s skinny frame, his messy hair, and the fact he was clearly hiding some bandages. Out of politeness, she avoided staring at them.

“Traffic.” Peter smiled sheepishly.

“Harry said that you use your bike?”

“People traffic.” Peter felt his cheeks go red, and he was quick to reach out towards her, “I’m Peter. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Kristie. So, Harry says you like…robots?”

It became apparent why Harry thought Kristie would be a good match for Peter. Apparently, during one of their shared lectures, Kristie had made a comment to a third party that she had seen an episode of ‘Robo Wars’. It was a show depicting teams of engineers sending machines to tear themselves apart. Peter often taped such a show. However, Harry, in either his eagerness or desperation for Peter, didn’t bother to ask about her interests beyond that. She wasn’t talkative. Not that such a thing was an issue by itself, but getting any words out of her was a problem. It didn’t help that Peter’s natural response was to ramble. Nearly incoherent sentences about completely irrelevant topics were strung as Peter feared the silence and blank stares that he was getting. When Kristie did speak, it was about things that he honestly had no idea about. She owned several dogs, which was the main focal point of her discussions. As much as Peter loved animals, he didn’t exactly know how to respond when haircare products for short-haired canines was brought up. More and more silence was generated. Kristie had no major interest in science fiction or engineering, while Peter had no idea about art or fitness routines. By the time Peter ordered the desserts, it was more out of obligation than anything. The mousse was eaten in near silence, with eye contact being greatly avoided.

As the pair left the table, a set of awkward smiles and mumbled thanks was exchange before they departed. No numbers were exchanged at all. Peter walked into the alleyway with a disappointed mood. As he reached behind the large bin to retrieve his hidden bike, he tried to be optimistic. It wasn’t as bad as the girl that ranted faster than he did, debating the role of gender in the sciences. Then there was the very shy girl who fainted as one of Peter’s bandages accidently unwounded, revealing a horrid cut given to him by a knife-wielding lunatic several days prior. The girl that abruptly cut into one of Peter's tirades about a show that he liked to announce that she had no idea or interest in what he was talking about also came to mind. He couldn’t blame them. Peter knew that he rambled, and that he was nerdy. Neither were great elements for dating, and his rather plan build didn’t help either. Though, the issue was shared. Peter didn’t exactly find any of them entirely interesting, either. Sure, many were cute. Nearly all of Harry’s female friends were. The joys of his wealth, Peter supposed. Yet, despite that, nearly none of the girls had any shared interests. As bad as he felt to admit it, sometimes Peter just felt bored with them, as if he was talking just to go through the motions or to ease his anxiety. None of them made him feel…eager.

It was with that melancholic note that Peter began to peddle towards the road. A steep sigh left him as a pang of loneliness struck him. He’d figure something out. One day at a time. It was what the young man told himself often as he did his best to ignore the isolation that living alone and trying to balance an adult life brought him.

***

Jennifer exhaled loudly, feeling her entire body ache with exhaustion as she entered her apartment’s elevator. It was times such as these that she regretted not being able to turn green in common areas. While her jade self was extremely difficult to tie, the young in her mid-twenties found her pale self always cramping or aching as the days wore on. It wasn’t like she was unfit, far from it. She was a hero, after all. It was just…she felt older. Perhaps it was the stress or bored of reading through thousands of pages a day whilst trying to protect someone’s life. Or, perhaps it was the shouting that her co-workers made her deal with. It could have also been the many social situations thrust upon her, each requiring a significant amount of mental energy in order to survive it. Whatever it was, it left her tired and wanting a nap.

The only positive of the day was the fact that her client was deemed innocent of the car theft charge. The poor man resorted to sobbing as the verdict was read, much to Samantha’s annoyance. Jennifer did her best not to frown as her boss rolled her eyes at the display. The many hugs and handshakes by his family members were a tad overwhelming, but it was a pleasant experience. It was those types of experiences that kept her in the line of work. She was good at what she did, even if she was relatively young and fresh in the field.

As Jennifer watched the door’s opened, her hallway appeared before her. A familiar young man with a shaded jaw and cropped hair was dangling by his door, clearly trying to find his key. Jennifer’s eyes widened and her jaw tightened, for this was a chance to converse. As her counsellor often said, take any opportunity to overcome a fear of social interaction. It didn’t hurt that he was one of the nicer neighbours and actually tolerated both her incredible rants and awkward head nods. With a fast pace, Jennifer made a line for him.

Hearing her, the man peered up. By his lack of a reaction, it was clear that he had become used to such interactions. A polite smile overcame him as he stopped fishing in his pockets.

“Jennifer.”

“Declan.” She nodded several times until realising that she needed to stop, “Have a good day?”

“Yeah, was decent. Just…worked, and stuff. You?”

“Hmm. Just…um…worked, also. Went to court. As a lawyer,” She hastily added, “I wasn’t arrested.”

“I know.” Declan smiled gently, already knowing her profession, “Ah, put away any criminals?”

“Different type of law. I work the defence. Not even the exciting defence. The…boring stuff. Theft. Graffiti. We once had a rich guy hire us to get his daughter off of a jaywalking charge.”

Declan smiled again, his hand leaving his pocket with a familiar set of keys.

“I’ll make sure to call if I ever need a lawyer.” He joked.

“You can call me for other reasons.” Jennifer was nodding once more, “To talk, read. I like to read in groups. My couns…My friend says it healthy, too. In fact, I signed up to a sci-fi book club a few months ago, and they’re really nice. One of them always brings free tea, and its so…I’m so sorry for ranting again.”

Her eyes were shut and her cheeks were red. Once more, the tightening in her stomach had caused her mouth to go into overdrive. The overwhelmed look in Declan’s eyes said it all. He didn’t seem too perturbed, however. He was still smiling, albeit tightly.

“You’re getting better.”

Her cheeks reddened again, though it did ease the tightness in her chest and the dryness in her mouth.

“Thanks.” She replied softly, “Well, have a good one.”

“You too.”

The pair split, Jennifer walking to her own door as Declan entered his. As soon as the mopping Jennifer opened her door, a white object collided with her ankles. Snorts and sneezes filled the room as the white pug eagerly kissed and nibbled at her pants. A tired smile grew as Jennifer put down her bag and reached down.

“I trust you had an exciting day napping, Maxxie?”

The pug in question licked her cheek. Jennifer’s smiles grew as she kicked off her shoes. Her apartment was small, but comfortable. There was a sofa directly in front of a small television. A wooden dining table against the wall, suitable for three non-existent guests. Towards the back of the room was a small kitchen, with a single hallway leading to her bedroom and bathroom. It was decent enough while she saved for something bigger. Putting Maxxie on the couch, Jennifer did what she always did after work. She kicked off her uncomfortable work pants and slid into her couch, where Maxxie soon joined her by sitting on her lap.

“I spoke to some people today.” Jennifer mumbled, her eyes closed and her head resting over the top of the seat, “Outside of work, too. I said ‘hi’ to Declan. Oh! And I managed to give directions to someone without looking like a tomato. Remind me to mention that in the journal.”

The pug only snorted in response. Jennifer nodded in agreement. With what energy she had, Jennifer pushed herself up and crawled towards the kitchen. A simple dish of rice and chicken was made, with Maxxie getting her own meal. The pair ate in silence, with Maxxie sleeping at Jennifer’s feet as she finished her own food. After cleaning, she snuck into her bedroom without disturbing her sleeping friend.

Her bed was messy, evident of restless sleeps. Much of her room was covered in folders and books, all given to her by work as ‘advice’. It was their way of having her do extra work without the needed pay. On the wall nearest to her bed, a large painting of Klingon Warbird rested, one that was given to her by a certain Avenger that shared her rather nerdy interests. How Peter found it still fascinated Jennifer, and the younger idiot refused to answer any questions on it. Jennifer reached to carefully lift it up, revealing a wall covered in images, maps and sketches. Many were linked by strings or drawn lines. Many of the photos were also very familiar, for Jennifer had seen them the previous night during her venture into the illegal brothel. With a satisfied sigh, Jennifer took each of the photos off of the wall and placed them within a small bin. She would shred and burn them later. A strong sense of accomplishment rose within the meek woman. Two months of work and a major success at the end of it. Not a bad way to send one’s evenings. Within a minute or so, she was left with another blank wall. A new target.

It was always the worst part of figuring out what to do. Big Issues like sex trafficking were hard to come by, and many hints and whispers came from either the police officers that she knew from her job or from criminals that tried to hire her firm for defence. Something would pop up eventually. One of the many horrors of New York City was that organised crime or a horrific criminal would appear. They always did.

With such a fact in mind, Jennifer strolled over to her small cabinet as she began unbuttoning her shirt. A shirt that soon fell on the ground. Followed by a bra, and then underwear, and finally, too socks. With an unflattering grunt, Jennifer placed her back to the cabinet and pushed with all her might. It was almost comical seeing the short woman fighting a piece of furniture. Eventually, it shifted enough for a hidden sack to poke out. One that was already smelling. Jennifer made a mental note to wash it as soon as possible. It was a set of dark purple and cream padding, in the shape of tight-fitting shorts and a top. The sweat-stained suit clung tightly to her body, perfectly fitting her. Even the gloves were snug against her fingers. A moment later, the woman was putting on a second set of looser, more overbearing clothes. A set of loose pants for yoga, a winter top, and a long coat that her parents gave her for Christmas.

As Jennifer finished placing her boots on and grabbed her cheap backpack, she leaned down to give the snoring pug a kiss on her forehead. With her usual nightly routine complete, the brunette left her apartment. An excitement in her system brought a bounce to her step. A nervous, almost childish grin was decorating her face as she exited the apartment block. It was evening, a pleasant and warm night that felt gentle around the skin. Jennifer nodded shyly as she passed some people. Her wandering aimless, she travelled for nearly twenty minutes. People became fewer and fewer, the noise almost dying out until it did. Her feet took her to a dark set of worn-down buildings, with only a few cars in sight. Peeking around to ensure her security, Jennifer ducked into a nearby alley. Her outer clothes were thrown into her backpack, which itself was hidden amongst some boxes.  

Jennifer breathed deeply several times, her cheeks expanding as she puffed them out. A loud crack filled the area as she violently punched her open palm. Pain erupted in the small hand but that did not stop the woman from striking it once more. Again and again, her palm ached and swell as she bit into her lip. Her heart was within her ears, her mind going into a frenzy at the panic and multiple sources of pain. Soon, she couldn’t hear herself breathe over the sound of her heart. Jennifer reached her peak.

Her skin darkened into a brilliant jade as a glorious, intense feeling of pleasure and power overcame her. Her confidence overtook her fears as she suddenly became very energetic. Inch by inch, she grew and grew until she was two feet taller than before. Her arms and legs thickened considerably, as did her hair, which adopted an emerald tinge to it. Her suit adjusted with her newfound growth spurt, clinging to her body without tearing it at all. Unfortunately, Jennifer had forgotten the bullet holes from the night before. She truly did need to visit Janet, and very soon. The suit could handle another night, though. With that in mind, Jennifer leaned back, squinted, and then leapt towards the nearest rooftop.   

***

Peter’s melancholy did not ease as the night progressed. Even as he rested within his apartment, his newly developed photos splayed over his floor as he lied on his bed, he could not help but feel slightly down. Electro’s barbed words about enjoying life still rang in his ears, only getting louder as the horrid date still rubbed raw. College was tolerable, but he was struggling to keep above the rising waters. It didn’t help that assessments kept popping up, with Peter struggling to find time to do them between work, his nightly activities, and eating and sleeping. The latter was the one to suffer, which only worsened his emotional control. Before he could stop himself, his funk had spun into a lethargic feeling. Peter suddenly became reluctant to move, even as he watched the evening roll by. He had to have some redeeming qualities, he was a superhero after all. He could catch moving cars, even if his arms weren’t exactly an indication of that.

With a soft noise, Peter pushed himself up and waddled towards the bathroom. With a delicate but tired hand, the bandages were unwound and thrown in a bin. One already full of medical coatings and ointments. What Peter wouldn’t give for a bulletproof suit…The teen winced as he looked at his fresh burns. A venture to Strange’s wouldn’t be too far away. With that in mind, he carefully redressed his red and raw skin the best that he could before walking towards his charred suit. Once more, he needed another replacement. With some luck, perhaps Janet wouldn’t yell at him like she had during the last time. While Peter knew it was out of concern, that didn’t make the very short woman equally terrifying to that of a vampire. With that in mind, Peter carefully put on his suit and did his best not to aggravate his wounds. With a careful look out his window, the teen crawled upwards and onto the rooftop.

It was a beautiful sight. Millions of lights surrounded him, making him feel as if a heavenly glow was encasing him. It was an odd sight in the sense of having such bright lights biting into his tired, sensitive eyes. Peter did his best to tune that out. While his white lenses did a fair bit of work with that, they didn’t filter out everything. The boy turned, murmuring to himself as he tried to remember the direction to a familiar, distant building that a certain doctor resided in. Finding his way, there was a kick onto the ground. The rooftop suddenly was a distant memory as Peter spun in the air. A horrid pain cut through his body immediately, removing any desire for fancy flips or showing off. It should be a quiet evening, however. Electro’s defeat would no doubt demotivate any powered criminals for at least a few weeks. That only left ordinary murderers, thieves, and other pleasant non-mutants. Nothing that a crestfallen, burnt Spider-Man couldn’t handle.

That was what Peter held within his mind as he detoured ever so slightly. His ears rang with the sound of a police siren and a screech of wheels. With a pained grunt, he turned and threw his body to the right. A police chase was underway, with the car ahead of them swerving and nearly hitting anyone nearby. Gunshots pierced the air as Peter drifted downwards, gaining speed as he dived and felt the wind whip against his body. Metre by metre, he sank within seconds until suddenly jerking up, shooting two lines of webs either side of him. The sudden change in momentum allowed him to position his feet directly ahead of him.

His aim was solid. His feet crashed into the hood of the car just as the two lines of web attached themselves to its back, ensuring it didn’t flip. The occupants rolled forwards, almost hitting the glass or top of the roof. Peter’s spine tightened, and he hastily flipped to the side. As his body cringed in agony, he managed to miss several shots aimed for his head. A door was pushed open. A confused and possibly concussed man staggered out, gun in hand. Before he could use it, a blob of web push it, along with the hand holding it, into the car door. The fat man howled in frustration as he realised his hand could not be pulled free. As Peter smiled lowly to himself, he hastily noticed that there had been a second person in the car. The man was stumbling through the road, desperate to avoid or hide from the red and blue hero. Peter’s spine once more tightened, prompting him to leap behind the car.

Only a single shot was heard, but then so was a woman’s terrified scream. With utter dread, Peter looked up to see a blonde woman behind dragged into the arms of the criminal. He was snarling something into her ear as she began to sob, her body convulsing with terror as the gun was pressed to her temple. The siren grew closer and closer until the nearby vehicle stopped. Two officers peered out over their doors, guns, for once, not aimed at Peter. The criminal hissed, snarling something else into the woman’s ear as he did his best to shield himself from both Peter as well as the police. Slowly, he backed away.

Peter’s hidden face was pale, for he knew not what to do. Rarely, in his few years of serving his role as Spider-Man, had someone used a hostage. In fact, most criminals looked at his skinny form and just tried to fight him. Those that tried to run usually just sprinted with all they had. The few times that a hostage situation formed, Peter was in an environment that favoured him. Closed spaced, with ease room to web a nearby person. Distance was not in his favour. His movements would need to be too elongated and the criminal would shoot. It all made Peter feel very sick to the stomach. He thought of several possible solutions, all just ending with horrid flaws. As each one crumpled in Peter’s mind, his began to panic. As it often happened when such a response occurred, Peter began to ramble.

“Look, man, let’s not do this. We’ve all had a long night, and I’m sure you don’t wanna be adding some decades to your sentence. She’s a nice lady, nothing done to you. Let’s not ruin lives here, man. You can put the gun down, and that’ll go in your favour. That’s all. We just need to put it down and-”

“I’m already dead, freak.” The man snapped.

“Cliché, but cool.” Peter sighed to himself, “Why?”

Peter turned to the car. Even with his vision, he could only just make out some boxes in the back seat. Pearls, or something similar. White orbs of some kind. They looked very fancy, whatever they wore.

“Who’d you steal from?” Peter asked carefully.

The question made the man pale. The gun shook in his hand, making the woman sobbed louder. Peter back away, an action that seemed to ease the man.

“We can help. Whoever owned those…things, we can help make sure that you-”

“Yeah, you don’t fuck with those kinds of people. The ‘friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man’.” The man chuckled nervously, “You ain’t got that reach.”

“Reach to stop who?” Peter asked in genuine confusion.

“DROP IT, NOW!” A microphoned voice boomed.

One of the officers had found one, it seemed. The pair were still aimed directly at the man. Assistance was no doubt only minutes away, but a horrible feeling in Peter’s gut made him feel as if a minute wasn’t enough. The criminal glanced to police across the street. The teen panicked. He took his chance. His wrist jerked. As a shot of web hurled forwards, there was a gunshot and a terrified scream.

A hand holding a gun was now webbed to the woman’s shoulder, much to both parties’ confusion. Peter leapt forwards, ignoring the pain in his body as he quickly closed the distance. One hand on both shoulders, Peter pried the screaming man away from the crying woman. The man continued firing, but Peter aimed the man’s webbed arm to the pavement, which ate the bullets loudly. Without further delay, Peter pushed the man into the car and webbed him with thick layers.

“You…You’ve fucking killed me.”

“Then let me help.” Peter said calmly.

“Go fuck yourself. I’ll see you in hell.”

Peter closed his eyes and turned to look at the crying woman. Much to his relief, the first bullet had missed her. Peter was lucky. His reflexes were sharp enough. It was shallow victory, though. Peter was aware of just how lucky the shot was, and just how out of his control the situation was. Still, he leant over her as she fell to her knees.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I promise. You’re safe.”

The woman looked up, still terrified and possibly in shock. Peter sighed, looking up.

“The police are here. They’ll look after you.”

They were running forwards. Whether they wanted just the criminal, to comfort the crying victim, or to have a crack at catching Spider-Man was anyone’s guess. Peter didn’t want to gamble it. With a tired smile that couldn’t be seen, he turned.

“Thank…Thank you.” The woman managed.

Peter stopped as his exhaustion faded away. The words were enough to make a very warm feeling overcome his otherwise aching self.

“Always here to help.” Peter beamed.

With an extra spring in his step, Peter flung himself into the air. The teen disappeared from view, catching his breath and waiting for the burns to stop aching. His legs were thrown over the ledge of a nearby building. More and more police were arriving, with many comforting the hysterical hostage. Otherwise took the screaming man into a van, an action that took more than handcuffs to pull off. The criminal was like a bull, determined not to be captured. Someone truly had rattled him, making Peter very curious about what or who it was. It was an idle curiosity, however.

As his body relaxed, the excitement of the evening soon wore off. It was difficult, for the fear of the hostage situation going poorly was immense. Peter once more felt uneasy about his life, even after saving someone’s life. It was a silly feeling, in his sensitive opinion. School and work and bills and dating were nothing compared to saving people and hero stuff. It just…felt hollow sometimes. Like there was something else to happen next, and Peter was waiting indefinitely for the next step to finally occur. It just wasn’t, though. Harry, of all people, was moving well through college and had somehow maintained his relationship with Liz Allen. Harry was Harry, so miracles could clearly happen. It didn’t help that many of the other superpowered people were off doing their own things, being awesome and happy. Few, aside from Strange, ever bumped into Peter. They had their lives, even their hero lives, under better control than Peter, who felt like sand was slipping between his fingers. It was an anxious feeling, not knowing why one feels bland and why they can’t figure out how to fix it. It was horrible for the teen, who was still sorting himself out in life.

Peter’s spine tightened. His musings ended as he jumped onto the ledge with perfect grace. Within a second, he was turned. He remained motionless, his jaw open as a horrible confusion and even a fear overcame. An image that he had not seen in over a year was before him, and his mind could not work out how to react.

“Well,” A smooth voice whispered into the air, “Haven’t you been in the wars tonight.”

“Felicia.” 

***

It was a relatively quiet evening, at least by Jennifer’s standards. It was a strange come down when it came to busting a sex trafficking ring just the evening before and now simply prowling the rooftops and more ridden areas of the city. Even the few issues that she came across, those of people trying to break into the odd house or selling single guns in dark alleys, were easy enough to deal with. Most people dropped to their knees with arms raised or dashed into the night as soon as they saw a giant green woman stomping towards them. Jennifer couldn’t complain, though. It was at least still helping some communities.

Such a desire brought her closer and closer towards the waterfront, a place that occasionally housed some of the more problematic residents of the city. Though, in recent months, people had learnt to avoid the area. Something about people disappearing and getting arrested by a green monster kept them at an arm’s length. That didn’t mean a quick check in wouldn’t be appreciated. Jennifer silently crept through the abandoned docks, feeling a level of nostalgia as such a place resembled where she had first met several of her powered friends. That felt like decades ago, not a single year. Jennifer didn’t even have a suit back then, having to resort to oversized exercise spandex.

The dusty and cracked moors were quiet. The water was the only thing that sparked any noise, and that was only a gentle way against wood and rock. Jennifer took her time, peeking into the usual abandoned factories and offices. All in all, they were silent and empty. It was a good night. A quiet night. Jennifer took a step back, only for the sound of a gigantic thud to catch her off guard. Immediately, the woman side-stepped, using the momentum to spin. The sight before her made her heart spasm as she tried to understand.

He was gigantic, even for Jennifer. He was well near nine feet tall, a creature of pure muscle. His arms were alone were the size of ordinary people. His skin was pulled so tightly over his harsh muscle that Jennifer wondered how easily it would tear. He was topless, bound only in a torn set of dark shorts. A level of familiarity struck Jennifer, but there was something wrong. She knew it in the pit of her stomach. The man was orange, a deep bloody orange colour. No hair decorated his head, and around his sternum was some strange form of colour. It was thick, metallic, and looked very heavy. His face was calm, but the intensity that he was staring at Jennifer didn’t relax at her at all. She felt as if she was trapped in some sort of horror novel and the creature had just cornered her.

“You…Who are you?” The question was careful.

“I know Bruce.”

To her surprise, his voice was gentle and utterly contrasting to his brutal appearance. Jennifer heart skipped a beat at the name, having not heard it for years. Apprehension filled her spine, making her hastily look around. Something felt very wrong, and it wasn’t just the gigantic red man before her.

“Please forgive me if I’m a little uneasy. I don’t usually have giant red dudes cornering me in factories.”

The monster chuckled with what seemed to be genuine amusement. He took a step back.

“I’m desperate. I’ll cut to the point, Jennifer. Yes, I know your name. Bruce told me. He asked me to find you. We don’t have much time, your cousin and I. We’re sick. I was exposed to the same procedure that he used on himself and-”

“How?” The question made the man tilt his head, “Bruce zapped himself with enough gamma to do…Well, you can guess. They said he ruined his lab. How’d you replicate it?”

“He recreated the process. He wanted to perfect the procedure on me, and he almost did.”

Every single alarm bell in Jennifer’s mind flared at the explanation. Jennifer had never directly seen or spoken to her cousin in years, and that was well before he had gone missing after a freak accident. An accident that was hushed and any scientist that the Banner family spoke to gave them sad, but silent, looks of remorse. Outside of it being gamma related, as it was Bruce’s specialty field, no one knew what on Earth Bruce had been doing, Jennifer included. His lab was ruined, and he disappeared soon after that. Nothing was ever mentioned after that, at least not publicly. She could only guess the last time that she had actually been near him.

It was after being run over and left to bleed out on the road. Someone managed to sneak into her hospital room and transplant some of matching blood into the near dying woman. Even with the poor quality for the security cameras, it wasn’t a hard guess who it had been. Less than a week later, Jennifer went green for the first time as she struggled to find a reference journal. Jennifer was a smart woman. It didn’t take many hours for her to start linking the series of events together to form theories about what happened to Bruce and why he was hiding.

There was, however, one other interaction that Jennifer had shared with her cousin. A small set of notes, each page laced in misery. They were found when she tried to track him down. It was a pathetic effort of three weeks of library hunts and asking about his old researchers and co-workers. The only success was a small stack of papers that a desk buddy had given her. Each and every single page outlined Bruce’s utter desperation to undo whatever the hell that he had done to his genetic structure. Unless if something had changed in the last few years, Jennifer doubted that the man would ever want to replicate such a procedure. It just showed how desperate he must have been, if he had given his blood to Jennifer to save her life.  

“Why would you want something like…that?” Jennifer murmured, eyeing the red man’s bulk.

The question made his lip twitch. Whilst no frown was made, Jennifer had been in courtrooms enough to know when someone had a sore reaction to a question. It only made her concerns grow, and she began to subtly plan a way out.

“Because I wanted to help people, to be a hero.” He spoke with apparent earnest, “I’m not a mutant, but I wanted powers.” His elongated face creased, “Look, I know this seems suspicious. I know I look like a freak. I probably am. But I’m a desperate freak. What will it take for you to come with me?”

“Why isn’t Bruce here?”

“His condition isn’t like mine. Have…Have you ever seen what he looks like when transformed? He’s dying. It’s killing him. Both of us. Please, Jennifer. I’m begging you.”

As a dramatic show of such desperation, the hulking creature dropped to his knees with a bang. It didn’t ease Jennifer’s mood at all. In fact, it only impressed her slightly. He wasn’t a bad actor. In fact, had it not been for the one comment about Bruce’s replication of the experiment, she’d have believed him. He was still huge, though. She couldn’t fight him. The fact that he was lying to her didn’t help, either. He wanted something else, something that he didn’t feel at ease to admitting. He could attack her at any time if she gave him any cause to. It all made Jennifer nod.

“Okay. I’ll trust you, for now. I want to some rules, okay? I want you in front of me at all times.”

“Of course.”

“No tricks.”

“I’m going to take you to a truck, if that’s okay?”

“Anyone else in it?”

“No.”

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“Out of the city. Near Sheldoon.”

“That’s a hell of a drive.”

“It’s a hell of a situation. Please.”

“Why do you want me? What could I do?”

“Something about your blood. I’m not the scientist, he is. But he thinks the key is your blood. His eyes lit up when he figured it out, I swear.” He chuckled.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh, god. Sorry. Harold. Harold Elden.”

That was a poor lie, as well. Jennifer nodded once more. She didn’t care about the details. She just needed to get him near the water. The man made a gently nod towards the door and then he slowly and carefully walked in front of her. Jennifer’s heart began to pound so much that her chest ached. She’d handled worse. She’d handled a giant magical Orangutan that was a vampire, after all. She could handle a giant…red man. She just needed to play it smart.

The pair slowly walked out of the factory, neither speaking a word. Every so often, the man would throw a glance back at Jennifer and she would stare blankly at him. Eventually, they walked past the docks. Massive feet crushed the ground as they made their way. Jennifer’s eyes narrowed and she curled a fist. Seeing her chance, the jade warrior leapt forwards. The man in front of her was caught off guard as a fist struck his ribs. To Jennifer’s pride, she had mustered enough force to send the colossal creature into the water. With no hesitation, Jennifer turned and leapt as far away as she could. A manic panic pushed her into using every part of her stretched strength.

There was a thud. A crack like thunder. It made Jennifer’s jaw tighten and she did her best to run faster. Out of instinct, a decision to roll to the side was made. The ground shook around her as a foot landed where she had once been. A ferocious snarl left the red giant as he glared at her, a wolf finding its rabbit. Jennifer stood her ground, circling around him several metres away.

“Don’t do this.” He whispered, “We don’t need to do this.”

“Then tell me why.”

“I…You…You need to trust.”

“A giant red guy lies at least three times in a dodgy warehouse.” Jennifer tattered, “Yeah, I’m not an idiot. I go with you, then you can screw me over at any time on your own turf.”

The red man shook his head silently, clearly frustrated by her refusal. It was honestly a terrifying sight. Each of his veins swelled and rose from his skin as his muscles flared in anger. Before Jennifer could protect herself, a fist the size of a human body struck her face. Her vision blurred, and when it refocussed, she was on the ground. Her lip was bleeding. A shocked yelped escaped her and she kicked herself up. The man was before her. Like a wild animal, she leapt directly at him. The action surprised her foe, who did not expect such courage. She was faster than desired, too. Before he could reach for her throat, she was on a knee and slamming a carefully aimed fist into his own. A pained scream left him as she rolled out of the way of his own fist. As soon as it crashed into the ground, Jennifer leapt at him again. A successful jab collided with his ear, and then another to his ribs. She was careful, and the giant man quickly understood how calculating of a fighter that she was. He adjusted.

With a faux swing, he encouraged Jennifer to strike at his ribs. He leaned back. A foot savaged slammed into her chest, knocking the air from her lungs just as a hand grabbed her throat. Her own hand crashed into his wrist, but he did not let go. It was only after the three following blows that he released her. It offered Jennifer little relaxation. As she was dropped, a second fist struck her shoulder. Incredible pain erupted into her body as something hot spread within her shoulder joint. Jennifer did her best to recover, but the injury took too much out of her. Her roll was too slow, and a hand grabbed her ankle and threw her into the harsh ground, making her gasp weakly. A defiant kick cracked against the man’s fingers as adrenaline and desperate fear took hold of the green woman. He did not let go. He only threw her against the ground behind him, making her entire front and side ache. Her outfit was torn in many places, and dark green blood was dropping onto the pavement. Her breathing was a rough noise.

She was rolled into her front and a large hand easily grabbed her head, holding her still. Something cold and hard was pressed against her wrist, snapping around it. Jennifer’s eyes widened.

“This…could’ve been…so much easier.” The man panted, “Didn’t…need to break a rib.”

Jennifer’s free hand latched onto two of the fingers on her head. Her hand snapped to the left. An agonised scream filled the docks as Jennifer was freed. She crawled up, one arm still shackled, and she spun to slam several violent strikes into the man’s chest. It did little. The shock of the broken fingers only made him froth with rage. A cruel backhand to the face made Jennifer see stars. Stumbling back, she was only just able to avoid another blow to the head. As she pulled her head back, she followed with a swift leap at his head. His jaw snapped to the side as the impact rang through the air. It wasn’t enough. A fist lodged itself into Jennifer’s stomach, making her gag and wheeze. A hand was on her throat. Her feet were no longer on the ground.

face was swollen and bleeding in many places, making Jennifer want to smirk. His grip tightened on her throat. Her body was tired, throbbing in many places. A dark chuckle left her as she resorted to one last, very dumb idea. She clapped. Her hands were brought together as violently as she could manage, and she did so directly in front of the attacker. The ground shook with the force that she mustered, and then from the screams. Jennifer was dropped to the ground as the man cupped his bleeding ears.

“Fuck! Fuck!” His tone changed with each exclamation, proving Jennifer’s damage.

The green giant ran as far as she could. She didn’t care if she was seen by people, or anyone of the like. All that she cared about was hiding. Her heart rang in her ears as she ran and ran, buildings passing her by as if she were on a train. She took no note of the bellowing slowly dying off. She didn’t care. He had clearly been following her. He knew her name and her relation to Bruce. He knew something about what happened to him, and was willing to lie about it in order to shackle her. She needed to run, to hide. Her apartment wasn’t an option. Maxxie. She would need to go to Maxxie. No. She would have to get someone to…She wasn’t safe, not alone. She needed somewhere to hide, and she knew of a nearby friend. Two. With that in mind, Jennifer veered and disappeared through dark alleys, not trusting herself to be on a rooftop and in the open. She would get Maxxie soon. She just needed to have a detour to some friends first.

***

The large concrete research centre was always so barren to be in. It felt so needlessly utilitarian with its greys and whites. Having originally been built as a multi-roomed training centre for new researchers, the centre was soon hollowed out and filled with much larger sampling machines and particle analysis equipment. Whereas students once sat at tables, now large bodies of metal and glass sat against walls and pillars. It didn’t help that it was so silent, either. Even the machinery, the ones that worked, at least, was relatively quiet. Most were decorated with webs and insects, others with rust and stains. Only the recently used pieces of equipment were clean and tidy, with the owners having little care for anything else.

Towards the very end of the large complex, the front entrance opened. A lean man in torn shirt staggered in. His skin was severely tanned, and he had a very squared shaped head. His hair was a dirty blonde, and his shorts were also very torn, looking far too big for him. His ears and neck were stained with thick patches of drying blood, for he had given up on cleaning it all up as his hearing returned. With a hideous glare, he wandered into the facility. As he did so, his hands latched onto the metallic collar on his sternum. With a pained gasp, he angrily unclicked the front and opened it. Several trails of blood flowed as the rawness of his skin was exposed to the air once more. With a grunt, he tossed the equipment to the nearest table.

“You’re alone, Philip.”

Philip chuckled darkly, crossing his arms.

“Aren’t you always the genius.” He muttered bitterly.

He looked up, noticing feet were in front of him. Several metres away, a lean, tall figure floated gently in the air. In front of him, several screens were mounted onto walls and depicting various chemical formulas. Formulas that had not changed since Philip had left. No progress in fixing the problem, then. Philip turned back to look at the man. He was taller than a normal human, nearly seven foot. He was skinny, almost unremarkable. He wore a simple dark tank-table that was too big for him, and some well fitted tracksuit pants. The only distinguishing features of such a man was easily his skin, which was a pale green, and his head. His bulbous head that looked as if a balloon had grown hair and a learned how to frown.

“She…”

Philip’s anger soon dissolved into anguish. His face curled into a weakened expression as he struggled to hold onto himself. The failures of the evening wore heavy on his heart.

“I’m sorry.” Was all that he that managed, his eyes tightly closed.

A hand gently squeezed his shoulder. A squared head, minus the spherical top, smiled gently at him. His eyes lit up like small lights, and a thin line of facial hair ran around his lips and chin. Excluding the skin tone and cranial features, both men looked very similar in both appearances and stance.

“It’s okay. We were smart enough to plan for setbacks.”

“Sam, I don’t know where she is. She did some…thing to my ear.”

“Hmm. A new strategy?”

“I won’t let her try it again.”

“I trust you.” Samuel nodded, taking a step back, “Like I said, we planned for such issues.”

“I tried to track her but lost her scent. She’s either going to the Pyms or to the wizard.”

“Sorcerer.” Samuel corrected in a whisper, “I believe it was you that told me that we shouldn’t be lazy with our variables.” There was a pause as the two men thought over their options, “Even if she manages to reach the others, they’ll be distracted.”

“Brother, what if…”

“Phil,” Samuel’s voice grew deeper, “Trust me, please. No one will be able to focus on her. When she’s alone again, then we’ll collect her. Together. After that, everything will be okay. I promise. We’ll fix it. We just need a few more days.”

***

A/N: Hi everyone!

I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter! Always great to start with Spider-Man and She-Hulk. Next chapter will focus on a certain engineer that’s in struggling with his new stage in life, and a certain married pair of scientists that begin to notice a mystery is being put around them.

If you have any suggestions or feedback, please feel free to leave a kudos or comment. They’re really fantastic to see.

Otherwise, have a brilliant end to the week!

Fact of the chapter: According to medieval time conventions, a moment of time is one and a half minutes. This is “derived from the work of Bartholomeus Anglicus, writing in 1240 that each hour was divided into four points, each point into ten moments, each moment into twelve ounces, and each ounce into 47 atoms.”. I honestly barely know what that even means…