dynamics, 2
“So, what exactly are your intentions with my little sibling?” Daisy asked all of a sudden in a break between sparring rounds, throwing all of Riri’s concentration ajar.
“Uhhh….” Riri fumbled ever so smoothly, somehow no longer able to meet Daisy’s eyes. For the past week, Riri had been only too happy to throw herself into this training that was on offer. Even when she told Peter and Harley recently that she didn’t want to get involved in hero stuff, she knew she was only running from the truth – that she was involved now, and there was no backing out. Gwen’s incident had been the catalyst Riri needed to make the decision to turn and fight. So, being offered training by someone like Daisy? Great, awesome.
But getting asked that? Oh hell no. The fact that Riri had known it was coming didn’t help at all. The honest truth was that Riri didn’t have an answer. It was just another thing in her list of new queer crises. To think that even half a year ago, Riri had been so confident, comfortable and self assured about what she was doing with her life. She was the top dog in her circles on campus, and had a lucrative side business to fund her work. She had everything together.
Now? Riri had no idea what she was doing, beyond tackling whatever was in front of her one thing at a time. And as cool as Gwen was, as much as Riri knew she liked being around them… well, figuring things out with Gwen just didn’t feel like a problem Riri could solve right now.
At first, Gwen had been fun to be around, good company and a great kisser. And that- It was… confirmatory, for Riri. Made her only more sure that she definitely wasn’t straight. When Gwen then asked Riri if she wanted to go further, Riri readily agreed. It was next in what felt like a natural progression of things to try, and Gwen felt like a safe person to try that with.
But then they’d gone and almost gotten killed, surviving only by a stroke of genetic luck. That was a bit of a mood-killer.
“Hell if I know, man,” Riri responded. She took a sip of water in a futile effort to distract herself.
“I… see.”
If Riri had to guess, she’d say that Daisy didn’t know what she was doing either. The thought evoked a dry laugh. “You going somewhere with this, or can we get back to that disarming technique you were showing me?”
Daisy sighed. “Look, I’m new to this whole siblings thing. I just want to look out for them, and from the sounds of things, Gwen likes you a whole lot.”
Riri pushed herself up off the ground, towelled some sweat off the back of her neck, and went over to wait back where she and Daisy had been training with an unloaded pistol. “Is this meant to be a shovel talk? If so, it needs some work.”
“So it seems,” Daisy chuckled nervously. “Look, just don’t lead her on, okay?”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Riri scowled. “Look, I like them too. I just need a moment to breathe after last week, and get my bearings. Far as I can tell, Gwen does too. When the dust has settled, we’ll talk. And hey, then I can let you know about my intentions.”
Daisy got up and joined her, swiping the pistol off the ground with frankly impressive speed. She held it out, pointed at Riri, just like she had done about twenty times before the break. “Alright, let’s go again. We practice until the movement is natural.”
Without warning, Riri’s hands snapped forward. One hand grabbed Daisy’s wrist and pushed the gun away. Riri pivoted and turned to push her back into Daisy and used her other hand to grab a good leverage point along Daisy’s arm, and then lifted. In one motion, Riri pulled Daisy off the ground and threw her overhead. At the end of the motion, the gun was in Riri’s hands.
Of course, Daisy had anticipated every part of that and landed without injury. “Nice, that’s more like it.”
“Damn right it is,” Riri snipped back, and then held out a hand to help Daisy up. “Just… be there for Gwen when they’re sorting shit out with their parents, yeah? I don’t think she and I are gonna talk until after that, and she needs people to lean on.”
Daisy pulled herself upright and took the gun back. “Hey, I may be new at the whole big sister thing, but I do know that much. Alright, let’s do another nine of these and move on. I wanna do something a bit different with you, and teach you how to call the shots on a mission.”
Riri squinted at her, because if that meant what she thought it did, then… “Why me?”
No answer. Instead, Daisy just held out the gun and waited for Riri’s next disarming attempt. Three seconds later, Daisy was once again on the floor. Riri helped her up.
“Because whether or not you guys become some kind of official team, you need to know how to work together,” Daisy finally answered. “Shit’s gonna happen eventually, and someone needs to be able to call the shots. It’s not gonna be Spidey because he’s way more useful as a directable asset than a leader, and it won’t be the others because they don’t have experience. Meanwhile when you were training with Harley, I watched you shoot a broken plate that’d come off your suit with such perfect accuracy that it ricocheted twice off the walls and hit him dead-centre in the chest while he was in motion. Care to tell me how you pulled that off, if you don’t have a fancy AI guidance system like he does?”
Riri shrugged. “It’s just math.”
Daisy huffed in amusement. “As if. ‘Just math’? No, that’s not what it is. It’s you being able to do that kind of math in your head under pressure while maintaining your other movements. That’s the kind of cool-headed quick thinking a good team leader needs out in the field. So yes, you, and when I’m out of town chasing down leads on the Manufacturer, I can leave you in charge if anything happens. Now come disarm me again, and I want you to do it faster this time.”
Peter had gotten out of his Organic Chemistry II class as fast as he could, and not just because it was a little lonely without any friends in the class. No, Peter wanted to get to the library quickly because he and Harley had booked a study room to use, and he wanted to beat Harley there. They both had a fair bit of work to get through, and were in agreement it would be nicer to study together than alone.
Harley also had a class finishing at the same time, and if Peter’s memory served right, it was a little further away from the library than Peter’s was. Peter’s plan was to get there and set up all before Harley arrived, and then poke fun at him for being slow. After all, Harley had straight up declared his intention to do the exact same thing yesterday, and Peter wasn’t going to let him win.
He’d already made it to the library in under five minutes, and the booked room was just one floor up. Peter moved as quickly as he could without making too much noise or otherwise attracting any attention, and swiftly found his way to the room in question. He pulled open the door, stepped inside, and-
“How the hell are you here already?” Peter demanded almost indignantly as he pulled the door shut.
Harley grinned, sitting at the desk with his laptop and books already tidily spread out and a pen resting atop his ear. “What can I say? I guess I’ve just got long legs.”
Peter sighed, and dropped his bag down on the other side of the table. “Harley, you might have a few inches on me but 5’8 is not that tall and your legs aren’t that long. I bet you just left your class early or something.”
“Darn, you’ve seen right through me,” Harley teased, and pulled something out from under the desk. Peter didn’t even need his spider senses to deftly catch the wrapped package out of the air. “Kind of unavoidably late, but happy birthday!”
“Huh?” Peter questioned, looking at the package in his hands.
Harley smile dexcitedly, and gestured for Peter to open it. He did, pulling away the wrapping paper a little messily only to be greeted with a boxed Nikon camera. Peter remembered how Harley had said that he’d get Peter a camera as a birthday gift the day after they’d met.
“It took me a tiny bit longer to get it to you because it only arrived last week and I wanted to make some upgrades first,” Harley explained as Peter just stared at the box and tried not to cry. “I mostly just refitted the casing to make it a little sturdier, though. Is it… okay?”
“God, Harls, you really didn’t have to,” Peter started after winning the battle not to cry. The idea that he wouldn’t get any gifts to celebrate his nineteenth birthday this year was something Peter had resigned himself to, so this was… unexpected. But really, really nice. “It’s perfect. And… just, thanks.”
“You are so welcome, Peter,” Harley practically insisted, drumming his fingers happily against the edge of the desk. “I meant it when I said I’d get you one, and I figured it’d be nice for you to not have a birthday go by without anyone celebratin’ it with you!”
“Sap,” Peter teased, even though Harley’s words had struck the exact chord he’d just been thinking about. He carefully opened up the box and pulled the camera out. It mostly looked like the image on the box; it was compact, with a lens that didn’t protrude too far out, and had a handful of buttons on the top that Peter would definitely have to mess around with later. The main difference was that where the majority of the exterior of the camera was black, the one in Peter’s hands was deep purple and just a little thicker.
Before saying anything else, Peter turned the camera on, figured out how to disable the flash, held it up and snapped a picture of Harley without warning him. He wanted another picture for the memories, this time candidly capturing the look of his kind, freckled friend with stress-tussled hair and a bruise on his jaw from where one of Bobbi’s batons had clipped him during training, and a pen atop his ear.
“What was that for?” Harley questioned. “Didn’t even let me make myself look pretty!”
“You look fine,” Peter lied, because Harley absolutely looked like a mess right now, and then shrugged. “For the memories, you know?”
Harley sighed, and leaned further back against his seat. “Can’t argue with that. So, what’s the plan?”
Peter powered down the camera and returned it to its box, before setting that aside and pulling out his various study materials. “Well that online test for engineering is due in a few hours, so we could start by quizzing each other a bit to prep and then get that out of the way?”
Several hastily prepared flashcards and two debates on minor technicalities later, the two managed to complete their tests and hit submit on their respective laptops. The actual quiz hadn’t ended up being all that hard, but the last minute revision definitely paid off. Neither of them would actually get marks back until the following week, but they both knew they’d done well.
“Yeah, that wasn’t so bad,” Harley said as he packed away his engineering textbook and notepad. “What else’ve you got to do?”
“Still catching up on some of the work I missed for the new chem class, and then I need to watch the lectures for physics,” Peter listed off. “You?”
“Also physics, and I wanna make some review notes from my differentials class this mornin’,” Harley answered. “I also need to fill in a few enquiry forms for potential therapists I found. Figured it’d be easier to do with a body double.”
“Ooooh, therapy. Fun,” Peter said, and then chuckled. “I could probably use some of that too, huh? Kind of complicated for me, though.”
“Do it, and send the bills to the Sanctum Sanctorum,” Harley quipped without missing a beat. Peter laughed at the idea of Stephen and Wong getting his therapy invoices and having no clue who he even was. “Back to work?”
“Back to work,” Peter agreed. The silence between them as they worked was easy and comfortable.
After an incredibly productive study session with Harley and a quiet dinner in his dorm room, Peter only had one thing left on his plans for the day – patrolling with Harry. He, Daisy and Bobbi had all agreed that it was a good idea as part of the other four’s training. Going on patrol with… not exactly supervision, but support in case anything went wrong. A little guidance, like how Peter’s first few patrols with Harley had gone.
Harry was definitely more than prepared for it, too – his hand to hand combat skills had improved enough for him to be able to defend himself without magic. His control over the magic itself was more than proficient, and Peter had no doubt in his crime-stopping capacity. Harry, too, was keen to get out and see how patrolling worked.
“We’ll probably head off in a different direction to where I usually go,” Peter declared as he and Harry arrived at the workshop to get ready. Inside, there were some new additions next to where Harley’s iron suit was propped up; three more suits stood beside it now.
Over the weekend, Peter and Harley had used a Stark Industries Fabricator to make identity-concealing suits for Harry and Gwen. Neither had any special functionality, but they were at least made with damage-resistant polymers that would provide some protection from injury. Harry’s was pretty similar to his usual aesthetic, albeit more skin-tight – mostly black, consisting of boots, pants and a buttoned up tailcoat. To make sure his identity wasn’t just in plain sight, he also had a shadowy black mask that covered everything up to his hairline. It wasn’t particularly inspired, but it’d do for now.
Gwen’s suit was a mostly black and yellow body suit – except for the arms, one of which had the colours of the nonbinary flag running on it, and the other which had the lesbian flag. It was made from a material that at least wouldn’t interfere with Gwen’s powers, and was mostly a placeholder suit until a more specialised one could be made.
It had also inspired a change to Peter’s own suit; he’d replaced the black spiders on the front and back to be flag coloured spiders instead, bi and trans respectively. After much thinking on Rabbi Isaacs’ words, Peter decided to just go for it. Let the world know. And tonight would be the official debut. Peter quickly changed into his suit in the workshop’s bathroom once Harry was done, and they both exited out of the rooftop hatch.
“Ready?” Peter asked eagerly, excited to have protecting the city as a shared activity with his recently returned childhood friend.
Harry shrugged. “I guess? I’m just happy to follow your lead and learn the ropes, seeing as I’ve never done this before. Never even thought I’d end up doing something like this, honestly, but I’m keen to get some crime and danger off the streets. So, where are we headed?”
Peter pointed to his left. “We’ll head southward over the river and into Boston proper. Since we don’t have access to police scanners and the like yet, we’re just going to have to keep a lookout for anything going on. The principle is simple – if we see a crime, jump in and stop it. If we pass by anyone who looks like they need help, stop and ask.”
“Seems easy enough,” Harry responded as he ran a hand through his exposed hair. “Shall we?”
With no reason to delay, they both took off and headed in the direction of the river. While Harry had the advantage of being able to use his magic to fly, Peter was left occasionally swinging when there was a tall enough building along the way but mostly running and leaping across rooftops. It certainly helped that he could outrun cars.
Several blocks past the river was where Peter heard the first signs of an incident worth checking on – the sound of smashing glass. “Got something. Do you wanna handle it or would you rather watch me first?”
“Papa says it’s often better to jump in head first and try things, as long as there are safeguards in place to make sure things won’t go badly wrong,” Harry said with a note of eagerness to his voice. “Though he was talking about things like science and hobbies. Watch my back?”
“Course,” Peter responded, and then pivoted towards the left. “Two blocks this way and then one further south, someone smashed some glass. Go check it out? I’ll be right behind you.”
Harry nodded, and picked up his pace. In the evening light it was a little hard to see the shadowy tendrils that swirled around him as he flew, but every time Harry passed over a street lamp Peter got a clear view of it. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it before, but seeing Harry’s magic out on the streets at night was in a sense illuminating. He understood why Harry would worry about making the wrong impression just based on what others saw, but Peter was confident the public would come around. Harry was good, and they’d see that too.
Following close behind, Peter watched as Harry arrived on scene, evaluated what was going on and then made his approach. Down below, right on the intersection of an alleyway and main street, a fight was starting to break out. There weren’t any obvious bars nearby, but the half-gone case of beers in one person’s backpack told the story. Two people who had been out drinking somewhere, and gotten into a scuffle that was starting to become physical – at least, judging by the shouting, aggressive stomping and smashed bottle that lay half-way across the nearby road.
Harry loudly cleared his throat, to try and get these two peoples’ attention. They didn’t even glance at him. Rather, one took a swing at the other.
But his fist didn’t make contact with it’s target, instead being halted half-way there. Peter could see the dark bindings around the person’s wrist, holding them back. “What seems to be the problem?”
“The fuck is this shit?” The restrained aggressor shouted with a thick Australian accent. “Hey! Get it off me, mate, or I’ll start swinging on you too!”
Harry sighed. “How about… no.”
Meanwhile, the other person had grabbed a bottle of beer out of their bag and was edging forward, holding it up ready to swing. Harry simply raised another hand, conjuring even more bindings to hold both of them in place.
“You’re a fucking creepy cunt ay?” The other one sort of… laughed as they spoke – with much the same accent. “Eh, ‘s shit beer anyway. Set this dickhead here right and you can have the rest, mate!”
“So you two clearly know each other,” Harry observed. “Care to explain why exactly you’re picking a fight in the streets here?”
The second one pointed with an unrestrained hand, but not all that aggressively. “This shitcunt wants to waste our fucking tickets back home because some chick thinks he’s hot fucking shit. And I told him! I told him, ‘mate, we don’t have enough money to throw these tickets away’, but he aint fucking listening, is he?”
The other guy groaned. “You’re always going on and on and on about going back home but I aint got a life back home, do I? Fucking cunts down the road are always up my ass about something, Mikayla’s gone and fucking moved on, and my nan’s a fucking nightmare. And what? You think you can drag me back to that shithole?”
“Mate, I aint scared of you but your nan is a fierce fucking demon and if I don’t bring you back with me she’ll have my guts for fucking garters alright? You’re coming whether you like or not!” The second howled back, both apparently having completely forgotten about Harry’s presence there.
Peter utterly failed to hold back a burst of laughter at these two’s antics. Harry looked up at him for help, but Peter simply gave him a thumbs up and refused to move.
“Okay… so if I’ve got this right, you’re fighting over whether or not you’re both going home together or not?” Harry questioned. “Can you, I don’t know, talk this out peacefully and actually listen to how each other is feeling or something?”
Both men shot Harry the most baffled of looks, earning a sigh from the masked spellcaster.
“Sounds like something Mikayla would say, mate,” the second one declared, and the first one looked down.
“Yeah, she was always harping on about how I need to be more in touch with my feelings or some shit,” he bemoaned.
“It takes a real man to be in touch with your feelings,” Harry offered uncertainly, probably wondering if that was the kind of language that’d be successful here. “Why don’t you give it a go?”
“I’ll try if you will, cunt,” the second guy declared rather gently, as though this was all he ever really wanted.
For the next ten minutes, Peter watched as Harry did a frankly impressive job of facilitating a heart-to-heart conversation that ended in the two men shaking hands, clapping each other’s backs and walking off with no further aggression. Harry was left with three bottles of beer that he obviously didn’t want, but also didn’t know what to do with. After finding them a dumpster, he flew back up to where Peter was waiting and let out the loudest groan Peter had ever heard from him.
“Well, that was not what I expected from my first time patrolling,” Harry lamented.
Peter gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder. “They sure had colourful language, huh? But yeah, sometimes it comes down to breaking down a fight and just… de-escalating. Shall we keep-”
“Oh my god what the heck,” a panicked voice blurted off in the distance, immediately catching Peter’s attention. He’d brought Harry this way so they could explore a different part of Boston and check out different neighbourhoods that might need some additional patrolling, and it had completely escaped his mind that this was Ms. Marvel’s turf. She was the one hero who had been regularly sighted in the wider Boston area since before Peter, Harley and the others showed up.
And… that voice sounded like hers; at least compared to the videos of Ms Marvel’s work that Peter had scoured through once in amazement. So, maybe this was worth checking out – besides, it was definitely a good idea to make contact with Ms Marvel so she knew there were other heroes around she could call on for support.
“Ms. Marvel, I’m going to have to ask you to stand down,” another voice commanded, assuming some kind of authority that rubbed Peter the wrong way even from this distance. “And allow me to take you into my organisation’s custody for questioning.”
“No! Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something-” Ms Marvel started to respond, but was then promptly cut off by something that sounded eerily like an intense burst of electricity. She didn’t scream or yelp, which was either very good or very very not good.
“C’mon, follow me,” Peter urged Harry, and took off even faster because there were a few buildings dotted around this area that he could actually swing from and he wanted to get on the scene as fast as he could.
“Found something?” Harry asked from above, though he couldn’t fly quite as fast as Peter could swing, so he was falling behind. Given Harry probably wouldn’t hear a response from him, Peter just stuck his free hand up in the air to show a thumbs-up mid swing, and then kept going.
He arrived on-site to find that Ms Marvel was certainly alive and well, but facing off against two opponents and losing. One was dressed in a black and red get-up that looked rather like a variation on Steve’s old combat suit, and the other had… Peter didn’t know how to describe it other than an unholy crossover between the Shocker and what pop culture thought ninjas looked like.
“Sup, guys! Ms Marvel, you doing alright over there?” Peter called out cheerfully, hoping to piss off Ms Marvel’s opponents and redirect some of the attention to himself.
“OH MY GOD SPIDER-MAN??” Ms Marvel howled excitedly as she created a platform of light and leapt out of the way of an electrified punch.
Peter gave her a little two-finger salute and then swung down to plant a kick on the electric ninja guy’s side. He made sure to hold back since he didn’t know how much this opponent could physically handle, but knocked them down the street all the same. “So, what’s the story here? We’ve got someone trying to copy the old Cap and pretending to be part of a government agency – or, no, are you from Damage Control?”
The Cap copycat huffed angrily and pulled out a pistol from a holster strapped to his left leg. “That’s classified.”
Peter tutted and webbed the gun out of the copycat’s hand. “Definitely not Damage Control, then. Those losers love to tell people who they are. Well, what about the other guy?”
Ms Marvel groaned just as the electric ninja guy was getting up, their majorly amped up claws still buzzing with power. “I was just about to take Discord here and drop him off somewhere he won’t hurt anyone and then this asshole shows up and says he wants to take me into custody?”
Peter turned to face the copycat. From where the man was standing under the lamplight, Peter could actually see the parts of his face that weren’t covered by his mask pretty well, and- “Wait, aren’t you John Walker? Ms Marvel, why don’t you take care of your ninja friend there and I’ll handle Walker. My new teammate will be here in a- oh, there he is! Hey, can you give Ms Marvel a hand?”
Harry flew down from overhead and flew right past Peter’s line of sight to support Ms Marvel. It was a little tricky that Harry didn’t have a pseudonym to go by yet, which meant that in situations like these Peter would have to either get his attention without a name, or make one up.
“Oh hey! Is that magic?” Ms Marvel questioned eagerly as she encased her arm in hardened light and punched towards her own opponent.
“Yup,” Harry responded simply, and then Peter tuned the two of them out to focus on his own opponent.
Walker rolled his eyes. “Spider-Man, what are you doing?”
Peter tilted his head. “Hmmm. Better question, what are you doing?”
There was another gun strapped to his right leg, but Walker didn’t go for it. Instead, he just started walking forward. Peter was pretty sure the guy was trying to intimidate him, but it wasn’t working. “I’m dealing with a threat, as is my job. Ms Marvel’s efforts pose a concern with regards to national security, especially with her association to high-risk regions.”
Ah, Peter thought. There it is.
“In other words, you’re just an islamophobic fear-mongerer?” Peter almost growled, because he wasn’t having any of that. Even if he didn’t really like Steve Rogers, at least the man had the decency to not go around spouting xenophobic crap. “Because I’ve followed Ms Marvel’s work, and she is nothing but kind and dedicated, and doing a fantastic job at protecting the parts of this city she operates in. How about you stand down and leave her alone?”
There was a crash and a bang from behind Peter, followed by more of Ms. Marvel’s enthusiastic shouting. “OH MY GOD! You really think so? Spider-Man thinks I’m doing a good job??”
Peter stifled a giggle when he heard Harry remind Ms Marvel to focus on the fight at hand. Ms Marvel really reminded Peter of himself in his first year or so as Spider-Man.
Walker sighed. “Look, Spider-Man. You’re young and inexperienced in the ways of the world, I get it. But I work for an organisation that has a very good handle on these kinds of things. If you don’t stand down and step aside, I will remove you by force.”
Peter grinned at that, and almost wished Walker could see that under his mask, just so he’d get even more annoyed. “Okay tough guy, why don’t you come here and make me?”
In the process of dodging a lancing blast of electricity through the air, Harry flew past and hovered between Peter and Walker for a moment. “For the record, dude, I have seen Spidey bench press 120 tonnes. Have fun with that one, Captain Racism!”
Having watched the shift in body language that betrayed Walker’s unwillingness to keep talking, Peter took a second to relax and shift his stance. It wasn’t anything drastic, just widening his feet apart a fraction and relaxing his shoulders, a couple things that Nat had taught him so he was better prepared for the more intense kind of hand-to-hand combat. Walker charged at him, and Peter was ready.
Between his enhanced senses, his pseudo-precognition and his general combat experience, Peter practically watched in slow motion as Walker threw a hook punch aimed right at his face. He brought an arm up in response, catching the rather morally corrupt super-soldier’s blow without strain. He didn’t grow complacent, though, because he knew that Walker was an elite trained soldier with the skill to back up all titles he’d held in the past.
Then again, all Peter had to do to block the incoming knee strike was twist that same hand downward, once again catching the blow and holding back what he guessed was almost Walker’s full force. “Come on, are you even trying?”
Walker growled at him, pulled his hand and knee back before returning with a flurry of rapid punches. Peter refused to back off; he was trying to make a point here. Although it meant using more of his strength than he usually did in fights, Peter made sure to weave between every single one of Walker’s blows and block or divert them all. He wouldn’t allow Walker to push him back even a single step.
Ideally, Walker would just give up and go home. Unfortunately, Peter’s experience was that the ideal scenario rarely happened in confrontations like these.
“GET OUT OF MY WAY!” Walker snarled. He jumped back once more, and this time started running forward in an attempt to full-body slam Peter down.
Peter slid one foot forward to give himself a better alignment of his muscles, and then just held his arms out, with his elbows bent just a little. Walker collided with Peter’s hands and came to a complete stop, unable to push him back at all.
“Are you done yet?” Peter asked. It sounded like Harry and Ms Marvel were already wrapping things up behind him, so maybe he should just put an end to this fight too. Walker and whoever he worked for needed to know that Ms Marvel had friends who’d have her back if they tried anything again.
“I’ll be done when I’ve dealt with the terror threat,” Walker hissed. Peter heard a heavy, weary sigh from behind him – Ms Marvel. She shouldn’t have to be so used to this kind of sentiment that she sounded so tired by it. Yeah, time to finish up.
“Well then, I guess you’d better call an ambulance,” Peter started as he took a step back, leaving his guard open enough for the obviously trained soldier in front of him to spot an ‘opening’. Walker took the bait, and punched Peter across the face, and Peter let it happen. He fell back, and landed on the ground with his hands placed flat and his elbows bent. Ignoring the worried sounds from Harry and Ms Marvel, Peter smiled just a bit under his mask when Walker moved forward to try pass him.
“But not for me!” Peter called out with an upward lilt to his voice, more of an act than his Spider-Man persona usually ever was, because he was pissed. Pushing up with his hands, Peter’s feet sprung upwards, and he spun. His left foot moved in an arc and smacked Walker clean across the face with most of his strength behind it.
Like a rag-doll, Walker went flying to Peter’s right, blasting through a nearby building before a solid thud came from whatever wall was after that. Maybe when he woke up and remembered how easily Peter had dealt with him, he’d think twice before trying this bullshit again. Following the rest of the motion, Peter brought his feet down and the rest of his body up until he was standing upright.
“Is that guy gonna be okay?” Harry asked, peering into the hole in the building that Walker’s body had made.
“Yeah, that looked like it hurt,” Ms Marvel added, sounding more than a little pleased.
“No, seriously, someone should probably call an ambulance,” Peter said again, because Walker was going to need medical attention after that. “I should really start bringing a burner phone on patrols for stuff like this.”
Ms Marvel shook her head, and pressed a finger into her ear. Or, against a very well concealed communications earpiece. “No, no, I got you. Hey babe, can you call an ambulance to my location?”
And-
That must have been a really well made earpiece for Peter to be unable to hear the sounds coming out of it. Ms Marvel was acting as though she’d gotten a response, and yet Peter had heard nothing.
“Ambulance is coming,” Ms Marvel then confirmed, and glanced back towards her original opponent who was now unconscious and restrained by shadowy magical rope. “Um, I can take care of him too, if you want? Thank you so much for helping! You’re like… really cool and its so cool to meet you and I’d better stop before I start rambling but thank you thank you!”
Really, it was like looking at the younger version of himself. Peter chuckled. “S’all good. I’m just sorry you had to deal with racist fake Captain America over there. I’d give you a phone number to reach me and my friends for help if you need it, but… no burner. Maybe next time?”
Ms Marvel’s eyes lit up with joy. “Yeah! Next time! See you guys later! You too, witchy boy!”
“W- uh, witchy boy?” Harry spluttered, caught wholly off guard. If there had been any onlookers who witnessed that, it would probably take less than a day for Harry to be given a variation on that as his public pseudonym by the entire internet.
“We should keep moving, and get out of here before anyone shows up for him,” Peter advised, gesturing in the direction he’d launched Walker. And thus their patrol continued, because there was still time for Harry to gain more experience before turning in for the night.
“I swear to fuck the internet better not be calling me ‘Witchy Boy’ in the morning, or I’ll riot,” Harry vowed, and followed Peter up and away.