hero stuff, peter parker

12 | about damn time

the next week was filled with every break being full of decathlon practises, just in time for saturday. peter's previous dropping out was wiped away, learning the weapon guys have a lair in maryland, meant that he could re join the team, much to flash's dissatisfaction.

i learnt about the lair the next day at school, since i snuck out after calling happy to pick me up. there's this thing i have with overstaying my welcome. being juggled around the foster system, makes you see the value of time in a home. i just freaked and bounced, leaving peter and ned asleep with the beeping hologram.

they'd informed me as soon as they could, as we'd discussed plans and prepared for decathlon. liz allen's face grew into a beaming smile hearing peter was back on the team.

it figures really, from her comment last week when mr harrington announced peter was unable to participate. "that's a bummer. right before nationals? he's like the smartest guy i've ever met."

goosebumps had littered my skin as abe and charlie rolled their eyes. feeling second best to peter was a shared emotion on the team, but it's probably more annoying if you have a crush on liz. flash had interjected, claiming she was false as ned just shrugged, taking the fall for his best friend.

one of our last decathlon study groups had just finished, as we gather up our flash cards and textbooks. it mostly consisted on michelle calming cindy's overloaded stress, yet drawing her subtly cause i knows mj's inspired around distressed people. peter and i exchanged notes, his consisted of a growing doodle at the top of his work. it was a small liar, with weapons and tiny lettering, saying 'maryland!!' i had chuckled, scribbling out his writing and put 'no, decathlon!!'

when we exited the building, the temperature had dropped significantly. i pulled a burgundy beanie on my head, which matched my backpack. my army green jacket wasn't doing me much justice against the autumn air, as i dug my hands deep into my pockets.

i wave michelle and cindy off, since they lives the complete other way. "don't study too hard, guys. your eyes might dry up."

michelle laughs and imitates that very thing happening, as cindy beside her, grips her elbow. "wait, that can happen?"

me and michelle exchange a knowing glance, before turning back to our naive friend. "totally" mj nods as they walk off together, cindy rambling with about a dozen questions.

my boots stomp against the sidewalk, yet i have no sense of urgency to get home. happy will ask how my day went and offer some carbohydrates for dinner. or maybe something a little more fancy, he likes to think a different dinner is a nice surprise.

after our pleasantries, happy says we have lasagna prepared as he stands with a frilly apron on. i have to hand it to him, he pulls the yellow polka dotted pattern off with ease. "i thought you got meals pre made for you, hap?" i tease, pinching some cheese off the top of his creation.

"my mum taught me how to cook" he smiles contagiously. he grabs the rag from over his shoulder and hits my hand with it. "uh uh! no touching!"

i grin back, popping the grated cheese into my mouth before scampering up the stairs. i tilt my head at my messy room, moving to pick up dirty clothes and take them downstairs to the washing machine.

a navy fabric catches my eye as i spot my discarded suit under a pile of clothes. how careless, to keep a multi million dollar suit under dirty pants. instead of putting it in the washing machine though, i hang it on the back of my chair.

the breeze blows through my window as i perch myself on my bed, to stare out at the city. something about my bedroom view calms me, much like a rooftop. there's the usual bustling noises, maybe some horns honking and pigeons cooing. nothing out of the ordinary. until there's a distant scream.

it's ear piercing, but not too far away. someone should be there soon to help them, spiderman, a hero. my eyes flicker back to my suit, lazily draped and waiting to to be worn.

c'mon, peter, c'mon.

my hands start to jitter as i look back at queens. there's no web slinger in sight, no sirens, no nothing.

maybe it's about damn time there was something. someone.

completely thoughtless, i rip off my clothes and pull on my suit. once again, it fits itself around my body. taking a deep breath, i tug on my mask as the eye pieces adjust, blinking along with me. my boots mould to my feet as i remind myself to not tap my wrists; skating needs to improve first.

it's now or never.

and before i know it, i'm jumping out my window and blasting towards the streets. there's not much indication of where the scream came from at first, that is until a small crowd takes my attention.

a distressed looking woman is pointing, her hands shaking as i land on a store's rooftop. my thud alerts a pedestrian, so i duck behind the store's lettering, out of sight. no one's seen nova yet and, i guess, everyone gets stage fright at first, right?

"that's him!" a woman cries, chasing down the sidewalk with some other men. in front of them, is a man in a black ski mask with a shiny red purse tucked safely under his arm. he's quick on his feet, quicker than the motley crew, so i stand and fly after them.

people's eyes must be on me as i hear the odd 'who's that?', 'woah!', 'another hero?! c'mon.' it's not everyday that someone flies over the city. although, this is new york.

in actuality, the thief is agile; dodging people and swiftly turning corners. he's faster than me, or faster than how much i want to push myself today. there's not much i can do to catch up, so i reach my right hand forward, brushing past my body. yet, i start plummeting down which never crossed my mind before. it's plain physics, isla, nice one.

my aim is off, but it makes the man tumble back from my blast's force. i knock into a flock of birds, but manage to regain my balance and lower myself near the thief. the stolen purse is at my feet, almost gift wrapped as i hold it in my clutches.

i did it.

but as i'm about to confront the masked man, i see he's covered in white stringy stuff. i didn't do that, he didn't do it to himself. where have a seen that before? but the next thing i know, it's flying towards me, hungry for the purse.

my instincts of nat's teaching kick in as i'm back flipping away from this shit. one string manages to grab my ankle, as the force yanks me down, scuffing me against the sidewalk.

i hold my hand over the sticky stuff, focussing my mind on it. this can't work, surely not. my internal energy flows towards my hand, the energetic current strong enough to melt away the sticky trapping. holy shit, when was that a thing?

a shadowed silhouette stands before me, the backdrop of the setting sun doing me no justice of identifying them. all i do is outstretch my arm and blast in their direction, hoping they'll get a taste of their own medicine.

but only when they dodge the beam with a front flip, is when i realise it's spiderman; stood wide eyed, staring at me in recognition.