Chocolate Pie and CGI
Peter Parker has never known what it’s like to have a mom. Or at least, he can’t remember that he’s known. He’s lived his life, as far as he is currently aware, as an only child living with his aunt. His parents died in a car crash, and his Uncle was shot by a convenience store robber when he was twelve. He doesn’t know anything different.
But the truth is anything but.
I know the real story. His mom and dad were members of the Red Room and HYDRA, respectively, and he had a twin sister who he spent most of his life with. His Aunt and Uncle were actually ex SHIELD agents who had been forced to take care of him when he showed up on their doorstep in the arms of two HYDRA agents. A serum was injected in both of their brains that altered their memories, so not even they knew the truth about Peter’s life. Or maybe I should start calling him Petya. Katerina and Petya only ever had one year of peace in their lives, one year where they were fed full meals three times a day, slept in beds with full mattresses, and spent their days with a family who made them feel happy and loved. But that time was cut short far too soon, and their lives went back to absolute hell. Peter doesn’t remember any of that though. He lives blissfully in his fake life, with his fake aunt. His life seems much more simple. Not for long Petya, not for long.
Peter shivered in the stuffy heat of MJ’s bedroom, feeling like somebody was talking about him.
“Did you just shiver, loser?”
”No! It’s literally 90 degrees out, how could I be shivering?”
”Peter, you shivered dude.”
”Nuh uh!” Peter stuck his tongue out at Ned to accompany the childish response.
”Whatever man. You better not be sick.”
”I literally can’t get sick, Em, unless it’s like super duper alien sickness that my metabolism can’t fight off.”
”Freak.”
”Nuh uh!” He said, sticking his tongue out again and reaching for another foam ball, “this solar system would look so much cooler if we had neon green paint, Em.”
”Well, tough, cause neon colors are the poison of the world and should be given a painful death.”
”Can colors die?”
”It’s the principle, loser.”
”Whatever. You said we’re doing a movie night right?”
”Yeah,” she started, and tacked on at the boys’ excited puppy faces, “And we’re not watching Star Wars.”
”MJ! Noooooo, we have to! You’ve only watched the first two, and you swore you’d watch the rest,” Ned whined, setting his paintbrush down to grab more paint.
”Not tonight. Tonight we’re watching something good.”
”Star wars is good, Em. You don’t even know what good is.”
”He’s right, you know, you once tried to say that the cgi in Girl vs Monster wasn’t absolutely terrible.”
”It’s not that bad. And even if it was, which it isn’t, the rest of the movie totally makes up for it.”
”That’s so not true, it’s not even a good movie.”
MJ turned to stare at Ned with betrayal in her eyes, “take that back right now, Leeds.”
”Nope, never. Peter agrees, don’t you Pete?”
”Sorry Ned, I’m actually with Em on this one.”
”Betrayal!” He gasps, grabbing two paint cans from MJ’s desk, “Peter, how could you?”
”…Let’s get back to the Star Wars debate.”
”Nope, not changing the topic. You betrayed me. Your best friend, your guy in the chair, your platonic soulmate. You can’t put a cast on this kind of break.”
”You’re so dramatic!” Peter said, throwing a pencil at him.
Catching the pencil between his two paint cans Ned replied nonchalantly, “It’s called for.”
”It’s so not, but you have my paint so I’m letting it slide,” MJ joined in.
Their conversation lasted like that late into the evening before they decided on ordering pizza. Their pepperoni pizzas (with pineapple on half of one of them, because Ned’s a freak) arrived at seven, and they settled in MJ’s living room with their dinner. They ended up watching a documentary called Dancing with the Devil, because they had all been obsessed with religious cult drama for months. Peter had to leave before they started a second movie though, because Spider-man can’t just take a night off.
”See you later, loser!”
”Love you man! Be safe, and call me if you need anything!”
”I’m not a baby!”
”False,” Ned and MJ replied at the same time.
”WOW okay, that’s just mean, teaming up on me like that.”
”Dude, you have bad guys to beat up, get out of here!”
”Right! Bye, love you too. I’ll be safe, and don’t watch Star Wars without me!”
”Oh don’t worry, we won’t be watching it at all.”
”MJ I swear it’s good!”
”Whatever, loser.”
***
Peter loved patrolling. It was definitely his favorite thing to do. He loved helping the people around him and seeing the citizens of New York smile in relief when he saved them from danger. He also liked when he didn’t almost die while doing it. He doesn’t often get the things that he likes. While his best friends in the entire world sat peacefully on a red cushioned couch eating pizza and watching what he can only assume turned out to be tinker bell; Peter fought against alien weaponry and scumbag rapists. Yes, that’s right. New York’s finest bastards have moved from using knives and guns to scare children into submission, to using guns that shoot alien power rays. Which, thankfully, don’t seem to have been used on the children. Peter doesn’t have the same luck.
”Make a sound and I’ll put your esophagus on a stick and barbecue it,” Peter whispered in a large man’s ear as he placed a knife at the base of his throat.
Most people would never think Spider-man the type to use knives, Peter himself would tell you he finds it a little odd. He’s a good guy right? Good guys don’t use knives. Have you never heard of the Black Widow, Pete? Right. Okay, so some of the good guys use knives. That means it’s okay if he does too!
Most people also would never think Spider-man the type to whisper gruesome threats to his opponents. That one can’t really be explained, he just does it. And you know what? It works. Every time.
”Good. Now put your weapon down,” Peter told him after the man slowly nodded, “very good, Luther. Now kick it forward for me.”
Luther picked his left combat boot up from the cement and used the tip of it to shove his gun as far away as possible. Peter lowered the knife, his other hand grabbing hold of the man’s much larger wrist. He pulled.
“Sh sh sh,” Peter lilted when the man whimpered from the contact, “we wouldn’t want your buddies to smell cooking meat, now would we?” Luther shook his head, his tattooed hands shaking in Peter’s tight grip. Peter stuck the knife back into his suit, where it goes not even Peter knows, and pulled Luther’s hands together. Holding them with one hand, he shot a web for cuffs and wrapped it around them.
“Stay put, Luther, or you might end up like your brother, yeah?” The man’s eyes widened as Peter walked around him to pick up the weapon.
”H-how do you know about my brother?” He whispered, fear and anger competing for first place in his voice. He had wanted to know how Spider-man even knew his name, but now he had a much more important question.
”I know a lot of things Luther,” Peter replied, crushing the weapon in his hands and setting it back on the cement, “the question is, what do you know?”
”N-nothing! Really, I’m just muscle.”
”Useless muscle. Look how easy I took you out.”
Luther tried to send Peter a scathing look, which fell flat in opposition to the teenager’s deadpan face. Not that the man could see his face, mask and all, but he had specifically made his suit flexible enough to show facial expressions for this exact reason. To make grown men piss themselves.
“I’m not useless.”
“Looking pretty useless to me, big guy.”
“They’re kids, dude,” he shot back, trying and failing to match Peter’s playful tone.
“Yes. Luther, yes. They are. Wanna explain that one to me?”
“They don’t tell me why I do what I do, man, I swear!”
Peter rolled his eyes, and moved behind the man, sliding a latex covered finger neatly across his bicep. At the man’s whimper, Peter scoffed, and jabbed his knee to the back of the other man’s, forcing him to kneel. He cried out, his hands attempting to steady his fall. Thankfully, Peter’s webs are unbelievably strong, but also soft. The man’s wrists would be sore, but not bruised enough to make the boy out to be a monster.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re so very out of the loop. You wanna try again, or would you like those kids to be traumatized for the rest of their lives with an image of your head on a spike?” Peter replied, gesturing past the man’s face to the locked door which he assumed held the kidnapped children.
Spider-man would never actually do that, he’d like you to know. But he does have to admit that the threat works almost every time.
Luther jerked violently backward, his wrists flying toward his neck, as if it would save him. “I swear! I swear! I don’t even know who they are! My buddy got me this gig, he just told me where to show up and promised me a shit ton of money!”
As much as he hates to admit it, Peter does believe the guy. Partly because he looked like he was gonna shit his pants, and also because Spider-man always does his research. Not enough to actually know what’s going on around here. He hoped Luther knew more than he did. That wasn’t looking promising. Which is unfortunate, because now he has to figure out who’s really behind it all. And that’s a lot of work. Sometimes he wishes the Avengers would actually help with real-life shit, because this job would be a lot easier if he had their resources. Oh well. He’ll figure it out.
“Alright now Luther, don’t shit your pants. I believe you.”
“Thank fuck.”
“What did they tell you to do?”
“Well,” Luther began to speak, his head turning ever so slightly towards Peter, when the teenager’s body suddenly slammed forward into it, knocking him out cold.
The worst thing about latex is that it doesn’t really protect you from burning hot alien goop. You’d think the great and powerful Spider-man would have already come up with a work around for that. Crazily enough, he has! Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the resources to put it all together. So he gets to go home with alien goop and scorch marks all over his torso. In the split second it took him to groan about it hurting, Peter decided that Ned and MJ would not get to learn of his misfortune on that night, and he got right back up to see who in the ever-loving frick just shot him.
“What the frick, man? What was that for?”
“You were gonna hurt my man, I had to protect him.” The man said, pointing down at Luther with a warped finger. Peter guesses he probably tested his weapon in an unsafe environment. Dumbass. Everyone knows to wear gloves and goggles when experimenting with unknown entities.
“First of all, that’s gay. Second of all, I was letting him be. You’re the reason he’s unconscious and laying on this nasty ass floor.”
“Oops.” The man didn’t look remotely guilty. He shrugged, moving the weapon with him, seemingly nonchalant. “That’s gonna hurt tomorrow, buddy. You might wanna go to a doctor.”
“Oh yeah? That’d go great! ‘Hey, Doc! I’m Spider-man, and I just got shot with an alien laser death ray! Wanna lather me up on the down-low?’” Peter shot back, cringing a little as he said the last bit. He’s all for a dirty joke, but maybe not when they sound like that.
“Sounds good to me.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, muscles.” Unlike the last guy, this muscle-head seemed like he might have the balls to use all that bulk. Also unlike Luther, Peter didn’t recognize the guy, which was a dangerous misstep in his research he is determined to fix the next time. “You wanna give me a run-down of the operation here, buddy?”
“I think I’d rather just kill you, if you don’t mind,” he said with a smug smirk, patting his weapon against his hand.
“You think you can?”
“I know I can.”
“Prove it.”
Katerina’s main issue with the Avengers had nothing to do with their many many property damage complaints, or their image amongst the people. She couldn’t give a shit that everyone idolizes them. She used to hate them because she was told to, because they were the enemy. Her programming told her that they were the enemy. She practically itched to attack any time she heard their names. But it wasn’t any of those things that made her want to bitch slap Steve Rogers. It was the way they treated her as if she was insignificant. Like she was the gum stuck on the bottom of their shoes. Granted, she’d do anything to make sure that their cruelty was never extended to the knowledge of her past. They would never learn that information. So she should be glad that they don’t try to get to know her, and that they practically thrive on her mistakes (not that she actually makes any of those). But Holy Loki, they were annoying as shit. She’s had enough of hell to last her five life times, she doesn’t need their hellish attitudes on top of it.
She recognizes that she’s probably the only creature in the multiverse who has this perspective on Earth’s mightiest heroes. She also recognizes that her fellow teenagers would probably throw her off of the Empire State Building for even thinking poorly of Captain America or The Black Widow. What they don’t know is that Steve Rogers left Tony Stark to die in an abandoned army station in the freezing cold of Russia. They don’t know that Natasha Romanoff left her twin son and daughter to fight for their lives in the hands of the Red Room (not that she exactly had a choice, but still). They don’t know that Earth’s mightiest heroes treat their newest superhero intern like garbage just because they think they have that right.
Although, she really shouldn’t complain. She should be treated like shit. Or at least, that’s the current headspace she’s in. Maybe we’ll be able to change her mind.
“Not happening, dude.”
”Who are you talking to Kid?”
”None of your business Nicholas.”
”Do you have some kind of mutated sentient mole that you talk to when you get bored?”
”Let’s go with that,” she said, turning in the passenger seat to look at the director of SHIELD, “I thought you said we were here to fight bad guys. This doesn’t feel much like fighting bad guys, Fury.”
”Well, we were until you started talking to your freaky mole.”
”Would it make you feel better if I said it was just the voices in my head?”
”Not in the slightest.”
”Good. I’m not here to make you feel warm and fuzzy Nick. Let’s get this over with so I can be done seeing your face.”
”Fair enough.”
***
It only took the two of them twenty minutes to take out the drug traffickers in the warehouse. And by them, I mean it took Kat twenty minutes while Nick Fury sat on the sidelines eating chocolate pie. Literally. The director of SHIELD forced a teenager to take out a drug trafficking ring by herself while he sat on a splintered bench and scarfed down a full pie. Enjoy the butt wood Nick. Enjoy it.
”Does it at least taste good?”
”No. You want some?”
”Nope. I’m leaving now.”
”You’re not gonna help me bring them in?”
”Nicholas, I just beat the asses of sixteen armed men. You can take them to prison yourself. Speaking of which,” she said, wiping her bloody hands against her thighs, “why exactly is SHIELD taking out a drug ring? Shouldn’t that be more of a local police kind of thing?”
”You think the police around here actually do anything? I thought you’d know better by now.”
”Yeah, I guess you’re right. But like, why are you here? This is something I obviously could have done by myself.”
”I’m keeping an eye on you.”
”I’m not a dangerous criminal, Nicky.”
”You literally are. How long ago was it that I had you in a holding cell?”
”That was not a holding cell, that was a very high tech cage.”
”Not high tech enough, apparently.”
”I can make you a better one if you’d like, Nick, but maybe you should just stop trying to keep people in cages.”
”Cells.”
”Call them what you want, dude. My point still stands. You took me out of the cage, and look how well it’s turned out.”
”You broke out of the cell, and I’m not sure I’d use the word ‘well’ to describe this situation.”
”I haven’t put anyone in the hospital in like three weeks. That’s a record.”
”Yes, I’m very proud of you,” he said rolling his eyes, “and I’m sure that you’re including the criminals you’ve beaten close to death who wouldn’t dare go to a hospital for fear of being arrested?”
”…..Of course I am Nicholas. I would never hurt a soul.”
”Sure. Look, I need you to be at the tower tomorrow.”
”Ah yes, finally the real reason you’re interrupting my day. Why?”
”Because I said so.”
”Not good enough Nick, I’m a very busy woman.”
”You’re fifteen and on the run. What could you possibly have to do?”
”Rude. I’m very mature for my age. I’ll be there, but I won’t be happy about it.”
”Try not to make everyone hate you, pretty please.”
”The Director of SHIELD saying please? I must be so very special!”
”Shut up.”
”Never,” she replied, a grin splitting her face. Katerina was known amongst most of the agents at SHIELD as the only person in the multiverse who could get Nick Fury to say please. And she prided herself on it. Although, by most of the agents, really I mean the few agents who actually know about her existence. The rest know only the legend of the girl who could get the director to say please. They don’t know that she’s real. She also prides herself on that. She likes that so few people know that she exists. Or know who she really is. It’s one of the sole reasons she lets Fury boss her around. Her big ego. Or at least that’s what she likes to claim. More likely it’s just that occasionally it’s nice to be bossed around by someone who wouldn’t jump straight to murdering her if she made a mistake. But she’d never say that out loud. Or even to herself. She just gets to hear all about it from me, because someone needs to make her heart all gushy.
”My heart will never be gushy. Never. I’m a hardened criminal.”
”You were literally just saying you weren’t that, kid. Do you even have a heart?”
”Nope,” she claimed, deadpan as she started sprinting out the warehouse garage door, “see you tomorrow Nick! Don’t miss me too much!”
”I won’t!”