Of Sorcerors and Spiderwebs: A Peter Parker Series

Chapter One: Becoming

You stare at the woman in front of you. Her lips are pursed, and she's adopted an attitude of well-meaning worry that comes off more as condescension. Honestly, for someone whose main job is teaching high school geometry, she's really mastered the whole 'I care about you' speech.

Your teacher stops her feigned distress to open her mouth and continue speaking. "Honestly, Y/N, it's been far too long. All the other students in the class have had their parent-teacher conferences months ago. When are you parents coming to visit, again?"

You sigh. "They're still pretty sick from that overseas work trip. I don't think it's the best idea to have either of them out and about, you know?" Your teacher is about to speak again, but she's cut off by the ring of the bell overhead. "Well, fine. Go to class. Just don't think I'll forget about this so quickly!"

Her voice fades away behind you as you eagerly stride away from her down the halls. You don't think you could have stalled for any longer- talk about saved by the bell. See, the problem is that your parents aren't out on a work trip, or recovering from a crippling flu, or attending the funeral of some distant relative, or any of the excuses you've used before. They can't come to the conference because they died in a car crash about a year earlier.

Some days, you think it might be easier to just give in and tell your teacher what happened. Nobody knows- not the counselor, not your teachers or friends, nobody. It's best if it stays that way. If people find out that your parents are dead and that there isn't anyone taking care of the high school kid in apartment 4A, they'll send out Child Protective Services and that'll be the end of everything. They'll ship you off to some distant corner of the universe, away from this school and this community and everything tying you to your home in New York.

And so, you maintain your secret, conjuring up excuses out of thin air just to stay put. It isn't easy, sure, but it works well enough. All you have to do is keep it up for another few years, and then you'll be in college and you'll be fine. You can manage that, right?

Thankfully, you've reached the end of the day and so you join the throng of students pushing their way out of your crowded public high school. The fresh air is a welcome joy, and you smile in spite of yourself. This geometry teacher is the most suspicious of any other teachers; you're not sure you've got her convinced and you're worried she'll start to do some digging and find out your little secret.

You're still stressed from that interrogation so you decide to take the long way home, cutting through parks and around street corners to best soak up the sunlight. It's just a typical day in Manhattan, or at least it is until you spot the people in robes running up the sides of buildings.

Your jaw drops as you watch them. They're dressed in strange clothing, intricate tunics that you'd expect to see in some sort of movie. As you stand and stare, they run and jump off of office buildings like gravity isn't there to tie them down.

What's more, they seem to have some sort of magical abilities- golden sparks flash into being in front of their hands, instantly woven into mandalas and shapes that are flung at their opponents. They seem to carry the same force as knives or other legitimate weapons.

The strangest part is that no one else appears to be able to see these fighters. Crowds of people walk past them as if they weren't even there, and you attract a few stares yourself for stopping in the middle of the road. Confused, you start walking again, and force yourself to head straight past the fighters. You can't help but continue to stare, though, and just as you're at eye level with the fighters one of them turns their head and sees you.

This man appears to be one of the most powerful of the gathered warriors- he's donned a scarlet cape that flows about him, and the other people fighting on his side look to him for guidance. This is the man who has spotted you, and he maintains eye contact with you for a moment, as if just as confused to see you as you with him.