Chapter 2
Peter was right. His body did hate him for breaking that many ribs in one go.
Ned seemed to notice and laid off the chastising for the next few days. He did his best to help Peter make it through classes without collapsing or making his injuries worse, but Peter didn’t miss the nervous looks whenever his friend caught sight of a particularly large bruise.
He didn’t want to be pitied. He’d done this to himself. He knew what was happening when he decided to be a vigilante. He knew the consequences.
One of those consequences was falling asleep in calculus.
“Peter– wake up, man!”
“I’m up–” Peter mumbled into his arms, slowly picking himself up from the desk.
Peter looked up to find their teacher lecturing in his usual monotone voice.
“Ned,” he complained. “Why did you wake me up for this?”
“Are you serious?” Ned deadpanned. “Pay attention!”
Peter rolled his eyes but tried his best to focus anyway. His brain was fuzzy and it felt like everything their teacher was saying had a three second delay.
“-winners of this competition,” their teacher read directly from a pamphlet. “Will have the opportunity to tour Stark Tower and work exclusively with staff on their creations for the duration of a weekend.”
Stark Tower… competition… Peter felt like he missed a few episodes.
“None of you are required to participate, but MIT extended the offer to all math and science schools in the state. It starts in a month and continues for two weeks after. Got that? Alright, Michelle, could you pass around these pamphlets?”
Ned whipped around as soon as the teacher turned his back and started frantically whispering.
“It’s a robotics competition, dude! We’ve gotta get in on this!”
“Are you serious?” Peter shot back. “After what happened the other day?!”
“Peter! Come on! This is literally your dream!”
“Yeah, but I’m not willing to die for that!”
“Who’s dying?”
The boys whipped around to see MJ standing behind them, looking unimpressed. She threw two pamphlets about the competition onto their desks.
“No one!” Peter quickly defended. He skimmed the pamphlet and saw the one caveat he could use against Ned. They need groups of three or more to participate. “See, Ned? We can’t join. We’re only two people!”
“Women are people too,” MJ glared with her arms crossed.
“No!” Peter fumbled. “I mean– that’s not what I–”
“Relax. I’ll join your team. Now you have three people.”
MJ smiled as she walked off, not waiting for an answer from either of them. Peter stared after her, completely dumbfounded and lost.
Ned smirked. “Checkmate.”
Groaning and setting his head back on the desk, Peter contemplated what he was getting himself into. “I hate you so much.”
“It’ll be fun! Plus, it’s not like we’ll get very far.”
♫··♪··♫··♪··♫
They got a lot further than Peter would’ve liked.
MJ, for one, seemed determined to win this thing just to say she had. And Ned was more than eager to fuel her while Peter sat idly and offered his input whenever he absolutely had to.
Within a few days, they were registered for the tournament under the name “Three Musketeers.”
Their name had been a heavily debated topic. MJ had been vouching for The Three Stooges or The Powerpuff Girls while Ned had been adamant they name themselves something with a play on words like “Tri-Guys.”
Eventually, they settled on the Three Musketeers and registered for the tournament. It was official. No backing out now.
The aim of the competition was simple. Build a robot to destroy the other team’s robots. Only, unlike other robotics competitions, there were no restrictions on what their robot could do. Meaning projectiles, fire, explosions… they were all free game.
“But what defines destroying?” MJ asked. Her and Ned were in the middle of an argument about the logistics of winning. Most groups were going for intense explosives, judging by what they’d seen online, but their underdog trio didn’t have the best access to those.
“Immobilization should count! If their robot can’t move, then it can’t get ours,” Ned argued back.
“Well–” Peter interjected. “If they’re using explosives, we’re probably not safe even if they’re not moving…”
“See! Peter gets it,” MJ agreed, leaning back in her chair.
They’d gathered at the library in town to plan out their robot design. They had a solid three weeks to plan and build their robot and then a final week before the tournament to test it and learn how to use the controls. Between that, school, and his secret double life, Peter wasn’t optimistic about their odds.
If he was being honest, he didn’t really want to win the contest. Him from a week ago would have been ecstatic about the idea of getting to work with Stark Industries, but something shifted after he was quite literally hunted down by his idol.
“Okay… then what do we want to do?” Ned asked, throwing his hands up in defeat. “My mom will skin me if we start messing around with homemade explosives.”
“Yeah, I’m not big on that idea either,” MJ added.
Peter spun around in his chair, deep in thought. He stared at his hands, idly picking at his skin, when an idea struck.
“If we can’t fight explosives with explosives, then we have to figure out how to stop other robots from using them,” Peter began.
“How?” Ned asked, confusion and frustration in his tone.
“We find a way to jam their bots. Whatever they’re planning on firing, it has to exit the body of the thing somehow.”
MJ chimed in, leaning forward towards the group. “If we can get some sort of liquid… something damaging into their robots, then it’ll fry them.”
“They’re all remote controlled right?” Peter thought aloud. “If we cause enough internal damage they won’t be able to control their robots… so that should count as a win?”
The trio shared a dumbfounded look that soon formed into three optimistic smiles.
“Well,” MJ leaned back in her chair, a satisfied look on her face. “I think we have our plan.”
♫··♪··♫··♪··♫
Peter’s biggest gripe with leading a double life was that he never had a chance to just lie down.
Immediately after planning out their robot design, Peter barely had time to eat and say goodbye to May before she was off to work and he was leaving to patrol the streets of Queens.
Peter’s heart was thrumming when he closed his bedroom door and quickly changed into his suit, hooking up his tidied up earpiece and tracker. He opened up his window and sat on the ledge, waiting a few minutes for Ned to get ready and greet him.
But, since before The-Shot-Around-Queens-Incident, that was the first time Spiderman was alone. There was nothing to distract him from his festering anxieties.
His anxieties could, currently, be traced back to the one and only Tony Stark.
The guy was after him. After him. Not even in a playful rivalry sense, no, Peter was fairly certain Stark would kill him on sight if they ran into each other again. Which there was a high probability of. The authorities knew he stayed near Queens during patrols, narrowing down his location significantly.
So, in short, Peter was afraid to step outside.
“Peter?”
Ned’s voice crackled through his earpiece.
“I’m here,” Peter sighed, tightening his grip on his windowsill as he prepared to jump outside.
“Are you feeling okay, man? Queens can survive another night without you if you need a break–”
“I’m fine!” Peter interrupted a bit too harshly.
Ned was silent for a moment.
“Okay,” he finally spoke. “I’ve got everything pulled up and ready if you really wanna patrol… but please, Peter, don’t force yourself. Your hero complex can wait a day or two.”
“I’m not forcing myself, Ned. I wanna go.”
“Well, I can’t stop you. Just be careful and don’t do anything too stupid.”
Peter smiled to himself, moving to grab hold of the wall outside. He moved off the windowsill and slid his window shut, ascending up the wall to the roof.
“As Michelle Jones always says,” Peter started, laughter already leaking through his words.
“Don’t be dumb, dumbass,” Ned finished with a chuckle.
Peter smiled, hauling himself onto the roof. His legs dangled off the edge. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I’ve been… on edge since the Iron Man stuff. I just need to get back out there to prove I still can, you know?”
“I know, man. I know how much all this means to you. I just don’t wanna have to visit you at the hospital again.”
“Thanks Ned–”
“Guy In The Chair.”
Peter rolled his eyes and stood up, surveying the city with a small sense of pride. “Thanks, Guy In The Chair. Anything notable happening in Queens tonight?”
“Robbery at the corner store near the graveyard. Security camera is pixelated, but they look armed. Be careful.”
“On it!”
Before Ned could finish telling him to be careful, Peter was soaring across the city, cheering. Sure, it was a little disruptive to be shouting as he flew around apartment buildings, but it fueled his adrenaline.
For the first time since fighting Iron Man, he felt good about being alive.
♫··♪··♫··♪··♫
After an hour of vigilantism, Peter found himself in Long Island City on top of the Skyline Tower, catching his breath.
His body was sore and stinging from a few close call fights, but he felt good.
Each breath felt heightened and the city looked gorgeous from that high up. He and Ned were discussing their favorite shows and movies, forgetting for a brief wonderful moment about everything wrong in their lives.
“Season 3 is superior! You’re literally just wrong!”
“Ew, no!” Peter shot back. “Season 5 is the best! It’s right in the middle and it has the 99th episode! It’s Brooklyn 99. It’s in the name!”
“That’s the worst take I’ve ever heard.”
“I am not having this argument–”
There was a loud pinging noise from Ned’s earpiece.
“What was that?” Peter asked, the smile on his face fading slightly.
“Stay where you are,” Ned commanded, voice suddenly serious. “I’ll check it out. Hopefully it’s nothing.”
“What is it?” Peter questioned, steeling himself to stand and run if needed.
“I have alerts set up for cameras near Stark Tower. They’re set to go off if anything resembling an Avenger decides to leave.”
“Shit,” Peter whispered.
“Don’t panic!” Ned was quick to butt in. “It’s just a safety thing for my conscience. The likelihood that they left for you is low.”
Peter stayed quiet and focused on his breathing, pressing himself against the rood of the Skyline Tower. Mentally, he mapped an escape route. He’d have to climb down most of the tower since the buildings surrounding weren’t tall enough for him to safely swing to them… he could hide in the evening drunk crowds wandering Long Island until they gave up looking for him like last time.
“Spiderman.”
“Yeah?” He sat up immediately.
“You might wanna start worrying. Iron Man and War Machine were spotted leaving Manhattan. They look like they’re heading for Queens…”
“Shit!” Peter cursed, standing up and jumping to the side of Skyline Tower, descending as quickly as his limbs would let him.
“Don’t panic! We can get you out of this–”
They could, in fact, not get him out of this.
Before Ned could continue reassuring Peter that everything would be fine, something was shot directly at Spiderman’s head. A bright orange beam slammed into the window just left of Peter’s head and he flinched, nearly losing his grip.
“Careful there, Spidey, wouldn’t want you to fall!” Iron Man’s voice taunted from behind him. Peter refused to look, focusing intensely on getting low enough to swing away.
“Maybe if you didn’t shoot at me!” Peter grunted, dropping himself further down the building. Iron Man descended with him, War Machine floating not far behind.
“Standard protocol,” Iron Man shrugged back, firing another shot at Peter.
Spiderman released his grip from the building, falling and narrowly avoiding the deadly projectile. War Machine was hot on his tail as he fell, attempting to grab hold of the building again.
Thinking (and falling) fast, Peter shot a web at Iron Man above him.
It stuck and gave him a tiny bit of momentum, just enough to swing the opposite direction and throw the superheroes off a little bit.
“Woo!!” Spiderman cheered as he landed on the roof of an adjacent building, his arms stinging in protest. “Alright, Chairguy, I'm gonna need some help here.”
“I’m working on it. This isn’t looking good though, man. They’ve got you cornered–”
Spiderman was thrown off his feet as a metal object crashed into him.
As soon as he was down, Iron Man stood over him.
“You’re cornered, Underoos, give it up.”
Peter grinned under his mask. It seemed the superheroes were still holding onto hope that he wasn’t the most stubborn vigilante in Queens. He’d been underestimated by countless criminals, but he thought professional heroes would be smarter than that.
“No can do, sorry.” Without warning, Peter flung to his feet and allowed himself to fall backwards off the building, catching himself immediately and swinging further into Queens.
The game of cat and mouse continued and, not to brag, but Peter was doing fairly well at not getting shot out of the sky this time around.
The heroes only managed to land a few hits on him as he tried to shake them.
Peter had home advantage this time. He’d learned where he could hide in the shadows to catch his breath and he knew the alleyways and backroads like the back of his hand. He found a dark place to wait them out, listening to them fly around the block trying to find him. Distantly, he heard police sirens. They really weren’t kidding about catching him…
When he was pretty sure he was in the clear, Spiderman crept out of an alley and into the streetlights, shooting a web to make a fast getaway.
“Got him!” He heard a shout and then it was too late.
Iron Man grabbed hold of him and slammed him into a brick building. Ah… Peter had seen this movie before.
Peter felt the air leave his lungs as he stumbled away from the levitating superhero and attempted to escape. He didn’t make it far, grabbing onto the wall of an alley to steady himself.
“Rhodey?” Iron Man tapped on his helmet. “Shit, well that’s great.”
While the hero was distracted by some sort of technical difficulty, Peter ran and shot a web, his lungs still struggling to keep up. Damn, he should really invest in a better suit. Maybe a bullet proof jacket or something.
Iron Man intercepted him quickly, throwing him back, and Peter fell to the ground. He skidded painfully against the concrete, his body slamming into the alley wall.
This time, there was no quip from Iron Man. There was no moment to catch his breath before the superhero picked him up effortlessly with one arm and held him high enough to keep him from running.
“I’m gonna have to knock you out now, sorry Spidey. You’re too squirmy for your own good.”
Iron Man used his free hand to hold a repulsor right at Peter’s head, prepared to fire and officially put an end to Spiderman’s vigilante career.
Shit.
It didn’t help that Peter was all on his own. He hadn’t heard Ned plotting in his ear since War Machine had managed to hit him a few blocks back. There was no one to tell him it would be okay even if it was a blatant lie.
So, Peter panicked. And he resorted to what had saved him last time Iron Man tried to arrest him.
He begged.
“Please!” Peter shouted, desperation in his voice as he frantically tried to catch his breath. “Please, I just wanna go home– I don’t… I don’t want them to hurt my family–!”
Iron Man’s grip relaxed ever so slightly. “How old are you?” He demanded.
Alright, screw it, time to lie.
“14…” Peter was 15.
“Jesus Christ,” Iron Man muttered under his breath. “Kid, saving the world can wait. You’ve got bigger problems than swinging around Queens. Do your parents know about all this?!”
“My parents are dead,” Peter shot back.
“Well–” Iron Man sighed “-there really isn’t anything childhood trauma can’t explain. Listen, Spidey, you’re giving this up. No more hero shit.”
Peter started flailing his limbs like a child. It has the desired effect considering Iron Man immediately dropped him.
“Tony? Tony, you there?”
A distorted voice came through the communication device in Iron Man’s suit.
Iron Man looked down at Peter, curled defensively on the cold alley floor, and raised his repulsor to Peter’s head.
“Tony? Have you found the spider guy? I completely lost the little shit.”
Iron Man’s gaze dropped to the ground.
The repulsor lowered.
“No. He disappeared down an alley. We’ll get him next time.”
When Iron Man flew off and the sound of his engines had completely faded, Peter took out the earbud connecting him to a chattering Ned and laid down.
For the first time since being shot in an alleyway just like the one he found himself in now, Peter let himself lay down and cry.