Chapter 3
The hallway buzzed with the chatter of students rushing to get to class, but Peter Parker was focused on Miles, who stood at his locker, fiddling with the combination lock.
“Harley was acting weird, right?” Peter asked, shoving his physics textbook into his backpack.
Miles glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Weird how?”
Peter tilted his head. “I don’t know. He seemed… distracted or something. You didn’t notice?”
Miles shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, I suppose…”
Peter squinted at him. “You’re acting weird too. What’s up with you? How’s the new family treating you? The Morris’s?”
“The Morales’s,” Miles corrected, his voice soft but firm. “And they’re fine. They just have a strict curfew, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”
Peter leaned against the locker next to Miles, studying him. Something felt off. Miles had always been the quiet type, but there was an edge to his voice now, like he was keeping something under wraps.
“You sure?” Peter pressed. “You’d tell me if something was up, right?”
Miles turned, giving Peter a small smile. “Yeah, of course. Thanks, Pete. But really, I’m good. Don’t overthink it.”
Peter nodded reluctantly, though the uneasy feeling in his gut didn’t go away. He slung his backpack over one shoulder. “Alright, but you know I’m here, okay? Anytime.”
“Yeah,” Miles said, shutting his locker. “I know.”
Later that day, Spider-Man became the topic of conversation during an Avengers briefing.
The team was gathered around the conference table at the Tower. Clint leaned back in his chair, spinning an arrow in his hand like a baton. “So, this new guy—Spider-Man. What’s his deal?”
“Who knows,” Steve replied, his tone thoughtful. “Could be another assassin.”
“Unlikely,” Tony shot back, rolling his eyes. “What assassin dresses like that? Bright red and blue spandex? Subtlety isn’t exactly in his skillset.”
Natasha smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Could be a tactic. Make himself so obvious that no one suspects him.”
“Or,” Tony countered, “he’s just someone trying too hard to make a name for himself. You’ve seen the videos. He’s swinging around New York like it’s a jungle gym.”
Bruce finally spoke up, his tone measured. “He’s inexperienced, that much is clear. Whoever he is, he’s either very new to the game or working solo.”
“Still,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “We should keep an eye on him. Even if he’s not with anyone, he’s still operating without oversight, and that’s dangerous.”
“Agreed,” Natasha added. “The last thing we need is someone untrained making things worse.”
Tony tapped the table. “Let me know when this Spider-Guy shows up with something resembling a plan. Until then, he’s just another wannabe vigilante in tights.”
Meanwhile, Peter was dealing with his own problems—namely, MJ’s relentless curiosity.
He had just grabbed a book from the library shelves when MJ’s voice startled him from behind.
“So, how’s work at the orphanage, Parker?” she asked, her tone light but laced with something sharper.
Peter turned, clutching the book to his chest. “Uh, alright. Lots of kids around,” he replied, keeping his voice even.
MJ tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. “Hmm. You know, funny thing—I looked up Sister Margaret’s on Google last night. Guess what I found?”
Peter swallowed hard, keeping his face neutral. “Uh, the website?”
“Nope,” MJ said, stepping closer. “Nothing. Zip. Not even an address. Wanna tell me why your job seems to not exist?”
Peter’s pulse quickened, and he fumbled for an answer. “It’s a smaller orphanage,” he said quickly, glancing away. “Not really that popular. Probably doesn’t even have a website.”
MJ crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because in this day and age, even tiny orphanages don’t have Facebook pages or Yelp reviews. Makes total sense.”
Peter tightened his grip on the book, his brain scrambling for a way to escape. “Look, it’s just not a big place, okay? Not everyone puts their whole life online. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish this paper.”
Before MJ could press further, he slipped past her and hurried out of the library.
MJ stayed behind, her expression thoughtful. “Interesting,” she muttered to herself, filing the information away for later.