Give him back to me, or so help me god

Chapter 2: The Call

There was something about New York when it was upside-down. Something that, no matter how many times Peter hung head first from the ledge of a building, he couldn't quite wrap his head around. The buildings always looked as if they broken out from the ground for the sole purpose of clawing at the sky below. Occasionally scratching a silver peak against the horizon but never really touching the infinite black chasm.

The people, too, were different. There were no motives when the world was upside-down. No meaning at all. Only the desperate need to keep from falling.

A soft crackle sounded in Peter's left ear.

"Guy-in-the-chair to Spider-man." A rushed voice cut across the comm. "You copy Spider-man?"

With a small huff Peter began to untangle himself from the web he had strung up from the tallest ledge he could find on 47st.

"Spider-man!?"

"Yeah – I copy, Ned."

Ned's choked voice crackled across the comm.

"Dude," He hissed. "Code name! Come on."

"You know it's only Mr. Stark who actually listens to this channel, yeah?" Peter said, a yawn butchering the last few words. "And he knows who you are."

"Okay, gonna to skip right past Tony Stark actually knowing who I am – because that's just too awesome to even compute right now–" Ned babbled, furious typing cutting across the comm. every now and again. Ned had set up his own microphone, which they'd found at a thrift store on 29th, but it was scratchy at best. Peter had to admit it was kind of soothing, though. Having Ned in his ear these last few weeks had eased the anxious pit that had taken up residence his chest since the attack on the Compound. Or, at least, eased a little. Peter couldn't deny that the pit was still there. And growing. "But the code names are cool!" Ned's voice cut across the comm. again. "And what if, like, some dude hacks into your server and starts listening?"

Peter laughed outright – surprising himself for a second. "What, like you are?"

"Exactly!" Ned shouted – and then the word sunk in. "Wait – no." His voice crackled over the comm. Peter pulled himself up onto the roof, and shot a glance over the city.

It was quiet tonight. Or as quiet as Queens ever got. He'd already broken up a fight in the Subway, caught a pick-pocket-er and helped a girl find her phone – which she'd left in Chinese restaurant in Middle Village. That had been kind of cool. She'd bought him dumplings after.

Ned's voice crackled back through the mask. "What's up with you?" He asked. "You haven't moved in like the last half-hour."

"I know. I'm just tired." Peter said, stretching up on his toes and winding his arms behind his back until his shoulders cracked. "Mr. Prichard had me in school at six to make up for the calculus quiz I missed last week." He shooks his arms and legs out gingerly.

"Eww."

"Yeah."

Peter moved up to perch on the ledge of the building, scanning over what he could make out of Sunnyside – and finding not very much. It was inching towards midnight on a Tuesday, and even in the city (and boroughs) that never slept, people tended to keep to themselves and wander home at a semi-reasonable hour on Tuesdays. A couple of people were spilling out of a bar down the street, on the corner of Greenpoint and 45th, and he could hear the distinctive thump of a dribbled basket ball, the tell-tale excited shouts of a game, at a small park a block over – but other than that the streets were pretty deserted.

"Well nothing particularly exciting is coming over the scanner," Ned's voice echoed through the mask. "You wanna call it a night?"

"Ugh," Peter huffed, tilting his head from side to side to ease the stiffness in his neck. Oww. He really needed to stop sleeping in the webbing. "I'll give it twenty more minutes then head home."