fearless || peter parker

twenty-one || the vigilante, and her vendetta

A part of me wanted to jump up and call him over, explain to him the plan for Vulture, and his role in it. But that part of me was stopped when I realised that for the first time, Spider-Man and I were staring at each other when one of us was maskless.

Thousands of questions cascaded through my mind. How did Spider-Man know I was here? Did he talk to Harry about my work schedule? Was Peter the proxy? That didn't make any sense, I thought, and I was right. Because at the moment, I was pretty sure that Peter hated my guts.

Did Spider-Man know I was Nightmare? Or was this just a stupid coincidence?

I ducked my head down, but kept my eyes on the awning. I didn't know how good Spider-Man's vision was, and I didn't want to be caught just staring at the guy.

I was buzzing with questions. I looked over to Nitara and Harry, who were too fixated on their conversation to notice the one and only Spider-Man chilling across the parking lot and street. That was a good thing, I decided. Nitara would most likely go apeshit if she knew Spider-Man was in our vicinity. That would only lead to Spider-Man having a nice discussion with Peter about how creepily obsessive we were about him.

I wouldn't be able to mention it to Nitara anyway, with Harry here. So, my only option was to pretend that Spider-Man wasn't sitting directly outside my work establishment, and hope that Nitara and Harry didn't look out the window.

For the rest of my shift, I organised menus, sanitized tables, and delivered cheques to customers all while keeping my eyes on Spider-Man. He may have moved his position, but didn't budge from where he sat on the awning, instead opting to observe the diner for a prolonged period of time.

It was starting to get a little creepy.

My gaze outside was broken by a waving hand in my peripheral vision. "Hey, waitress," Harry called. "We're ready to go when you are."

Shattered out of my stupor, I glanced down at me watch. It was eight o'clock, and just as Harry had said that, Marty stuck his head out the kitchen doors and gave me a thumbs-up. I waved, and when he disappeared, hastily whipped my visor off my head and threw my apron in the laundry.

Harry grinned as he slapped a fifty on the table. "You ready to fucking party?"

I picked up the bill. "It's a homecoming dance, not a rave. Also, your food is only ten dollars."

Harry stood up and slipped on his jacket. "Sorry, babe. It's the smallest bill I have. You'll just have to keep the change."

I stuffed the fifty in my pocket and slipped a ten I had received from another tip into the register. "Must suck to be rich," I muttered. "Also, don't call me babe."

Nitara followed Harry out of the booth, brushing off her maroon suit. "Take it as a term of endearment, D."

I sighed, and held open the front door of the diner for Harry and Nitara. "Control your boyfriend."

Outside, dusk was settling in the sky, and the glass no longer reflected copious amounts of sunlight into my eyes. Harry wrapped his arm around Nitara and walked over to their car, and I watched as Nitara directed Harry to the front seat with a kiss to the cheek, then turned to wave me over.

I circled the car to enter the other side, and revived my stare at the awning, which was now empty.

Empty?

I blinked a few times, just to be sure, but there was no one sitting on the awning anymore. I quickly scanned the street back and forth, but it was nearly deserted. There was no sign of Spider-Man.