Chapter 1
Tommy dropped his arm, following the closing door with his body. The handle clicked, and as soon as the sound of the key locking the door sounded, he was bouncing off to his room, giddy. His room door swung open with far more force than necessary, and he began digging around the different things piled in the corners of his room. One in particular held something very important. He pulled on a backpack strap, sending everything on top of the bag tumbling to the ground, and hooked both arms through the straps. Then he was back out his door again, scrambling out and down the fire escape as quietly as he could.
It wasn’t quite late enough for the city to have quieted down yet. New York never sleeps, but most nights it got at least quieter with less people running around the streets all the time. Not now, though. No, there were still people walking around, tourists still wanting to get more out of their day. To be fair, it was only around eight. And this is how it was most nights; When Tommy went out, it was still just as busy as the day, even if it was dark out. He didn’t mind it, it just meant less people paid attention to him.
He picked a random building quite a few streets down from his apartment, and slipped behind it, sending out a pulse. Every camera in his vicinity would have gone black for about three seconds, if he’d controlled it right. They would not see him. This was something he had discovered recently; He wasn’t quite sure how it was related to everything else, but he would take it.
He set his bag on the ground, and unzipped it. The fabric he pulled out was soft, irritant-resistant material. He ran his thumbs over the familiar symbol on the fabric, grinning. Then he began to change.
His suit was skin-tight, but still allowed for comfortable movement. Sure, it was nothing like the suit he’d been offered before, but it was a damn good imitation. It covered every inch of his skin up to his neck, and he’d tried his best to put soles and stiffer fabric in replacement of shoes. He worked with clothes, not with shoes, so it was a bit patchy, but it worked. Then he pulled out a similarly designed piece of fabric, a mask, and pulled it down over his face. Immediately, his senses dulled a little, but he felt sharper now, able to focus on one thing rather than everything all at once. Admittedly, his eyepieces weren’t as good as he’d tried to make them, but they were still better than the swim goggles he'd had before. And he hadn’t gotten them to blink like the suit he’d been offered had.
Last, he pulled out two cuffs, and snapped them around his wrists. They were more of a fallback plan, in case his own body couldn’t keep producing.
He stuffed his clothes into his bag, and zipped it, climbing the wall of the building. He stuck the bag underneath the roof with his webs, so it would be out of reach. Then he flipped into the top of the roof, taking a running start to leap off.
A flick of his fingers, and webbing shot out of his skin, attaching to a building. He held on to the end of the web, pure glee rushing through him as he swung.
God, he loved being Spider-Man.
“I have to cut this short!” He shouted, shooting a web and pulling a crook’s knees out from under them. He released, turning to dodge a hit from their friend. “I shoulda paid more attention to the time, sorry guys! My bad!”
He webbed the back of the second’s neck, yanking hard and sending them skittering across the floor towards the other two he’d taken out earlier. He shot a web at the one he’d pulled to the floor, then one at the last, then one each for the other two. He dragged them outside, two of them kicking and screaming.
“Honestly, this was your fault. Why bring so many guys to a party, anyway? Four was a bit overkill. Who has time for that?”
He webbed them all together, then stuck them to the ground. “Alright, I gotta bounce, see you guys! Thanks for the fun, your rides will be here soon!”
With that, he swung away. He really didn’t have time. He would have to rush this one. He picked up his bag, and swung a bit closer to his apartment, pulling himself faster. He changed back quickly, stuffing his suit back in his bag, and sprinted back to his apartment. Up the fire escape, into his apartment, and into his room, shoving the bag back where it came from. He tried to slow his breathing, and changed for the third time, into night clothes. Then he shut his lights off and jumped into bed, opening his phone to scroll through Twitter.
Three minutes later than he had been, and he would have been in a lot of trouble.
A knock came at his door. “Yeah?” He called. He knew who it was and what he wanted, that was just permission to open the door.
Open, it did. “Hey. I’m back.” His brother told him. “Did you get your homework done?”
“Yeah.” Tommy lied. He would do it tomorrow.
“Good. I’m going to bed.”
Tommy nodded. “Okay. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” Charlie smiled at him, shutting the door again.
Tommy shut off his phone, breathing silently in relief. He was glad the bruise he was going to get from a pistol handle to the head hadn’t formed yet, because it would be a nasty bruise and he didn’t feel like trying to explain how that had happened in the four hours Charlie had been gone. Hopefully it would be healed by morning. He reached over to plug his phone in, then rolled over and went to sleep.
The next morning, he was up a little early to pull his laundry from the washer. His brother only touched his stuff when he needed to, and never dug through anything, but he still wanted to be safe. Because from his laundry, he pulled his mask and the pair of gloves. He’d made the gloves so he could pull them on if anything happened when he was on the go, so he could just pull on his mask and gloves instead of trying to fully change. With his full daily outfit, it would look like he was wearing the suit underneath. He tucked them into the bottom of his bag, covering them with some books. Then he pulled the rest of his laundry into his room, telling himself he’d fold it later. He would not be folding it later.
Once he was dressed, he grabbed his bag, and ran out of his room. His brother was in the kitchen, making himself breakfast. “Morning.” He said, trying to put cream cheese on a bagel.
“Morning.” Tommy grinned, throwing open the fridge. He grabbed a container of leftovers from yesterday, throwing it in his bag.
“Could you feed Squinch?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah.” He nodded, moving to the bowl on the ground. He scooped some of the dry food bits into the bowl, making a clinking sound as they landed on the metal. A tiny cat came streaking out of a nearby room, appearing next to the bowl. “Yeah, nice to see you too.” He said sarcastically, running his hand down the cat’s back. He stood, telling Charlie, “Your cat is weird.”
“So am I.” Charlie told him.
Tommy wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, but I have to live with you.”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “You’re dramatic. And you’re going to be late.”
“Whatever. I’m going. Bye.” He waved, opening the door. Charlie waved back before he closed it again.
He would have swung to school if he could, but for now he was stuck taking the subway. He had a love-hate relationship with the subway. On one hand, the spaces were small and there were always a lot of people. He always felt cramped and crowded. On the other hand, it was dark and cool, exactly where a spider would want to be. Before he’d been bitten, he’d hated the subway with a passion.
At least it was entertaining. He’d ridden the subway with his full suit on once, and he still wasn’t the weirdest person there. Today he stood next to a dude gnawing on a stick of butter. When he emerged back above ground, he was relieved, and started making his way to his school. A few streets crossed, and he stood on the main path to the front doors of Midtown High. He sighed, preparing himself for another day of a lot of work.
He took a test in chemistry. The rest of his classes were fairly boring. At lunch, he sat by himself, sending memes to his brother the whole time. In three of the classes after lunch, he was handed back the grades on tests he had taken prior. All A’s. Then, school finally ended.
Instead of leaving, he lingered around the hallway that had his chemistry class. Every day as soon as the bell rang, the teacher would leave the classroom and go to use the restroom. She left the door open with a doorstop in. Once Tommy knew she was gone, he sent out a pulse to the nearby cameras, then slipped inside the classroom, pulling the doorstop. He cut the feed for the camera inside the classroom, and got to work, pulling stuff out of cabinets and drawers. It would be a while since the teacher could even get into the classroom, as the door locked automatically. She would check all her pockets for her keys, then go to the office to ask them to unlock her door. He had enough time if he went quickly.
He didn’t do this terribly often, she was only locked out around once a month. One batch of web fluid made him four or five refills, so he really didn’t need to make them a lot. The process was simple enough to make in a high school science lab, and soon, he had five vials filled with a sticky chemical. He took the vials with him – they had to sit for about 14 hours before he could use them – but he always replaced the missing vials with the ones he had used last time. Eventually.
It was good he was done, too, because halfway through he’d heard the chemistry teacher sigh outside the door, then walk away after not finding her keys on her. She would be back with a janitor soon. He left quickly, taking his things and jumping through the back window. He’d unlocked it a while ago, and no one had ever noticed. After easing the window shut, he slinked off to the front of the building, then promptly left.
Another subway ride later, and he was closer to the heart of the city. He walked for a bit, then turned sharply into a building that was named Whitlock Fine Tailoring. He went to the back, dumped his backpack, and changed into his work uniform, black pants and a gray shirt with a sharp vest over it, and readied himself to work the counter.
Later, he was home, opening the door to the apartment. Charlie’s head popped into view, grinning. “Hey, Tommy.”
“Hi.” He left his bag by the door. He would pick it up later. “I got an A on all the tests I took last week.”
“Of course you did.” Charlie nodded, grinning. “I ordered pizza. I don’t want to cook tomorrow.”
“I could cook.” Tommy offered, just like he always did. Charlie had only taken him up on that a few times.
“Yeah, but I ordered pizza.”
“Fair enough.”
Squinch came darting around the corner, hooking their front legs around Charlie’s ankle. He laughed at them, picking them up and draping them around his neck. “We should watch a movie. We have time for that now since your practice was cancelled.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow, leaning around him. Popcorn bags were settled on the couch, pizza on the table, the TV flashing with the title screen of Shrek. “I don’t get a choice in this, do I?”
“Not a bit.” Charlie shook his head, annunciating every word.
“Yeah, you’re lucky I tolerate you.” Tommy told him, following him to the couch. He would’ve said yes anyway. It’s been a while since they’ve had a movie night.
“Hey, this is my swamp, not yours.”
Tommy snorted, shoving him lightly. “Whatever, you’re ridiculous.” He grabbed one of the bags of popcorn, waiting until Charlie sat down to flop onto the cushions, making the whole couch bounce. Charlie rolled his eyes, shifting. He picked up the remote with one hand, transferring Squinch to his lap as he hit play. They both screamed along with the first lyrics of the movie, neither quite caring if they got a noise complaint.
By the time the credits were rolling, Tommy was asleep, leaned up against Charlie’s side. He smiled at him, shifting Squinch off his lap. He stood, and Tommy’s head lolled down onto the cushions. He snickered, slipping his arms underneath him. When Tommy had taken up gymnastics, Charlie had bought a gym membership to keep up. While he didn’t use it very often now - no time for it - it did mean he had the ability to carry his long and lanky brother with a fair amount of ease. And though he could’ve just woken him up, it would be funnier in the morning when Charlie could tell him that he’d carried him to bed. He did so, dumping Tommy on his bed. It was fair for the kid to be tired. Most of his time was spent running around, between his job and gymnastics and school. He left, turning Tommy’s light off. He needed to get changed for his own job.
Tommy woke to the sound of the apartment door shutting and locking. Glancing around, he found he was in his dark room. Must have been carried to his room. He scowled, taking note to keep his regular clothes on when he came back so it would seem like he’d been there the whole time. He waited a few more minutes, making sure Charlie was out and away and wouldn’t see him, then grabbed the backpack with his suit. Then he was out and down the fire escape, running to a place he could change.
Within minutes, he was swinging around as Spider-Man. And it was a great feeling. Every web slung, every time he reached the bottom of the swing arc, every time he dodged around the corner of a building or bounced off a roof or flipped mid-air stretched his muscles in the most satisfying way that was very much wanted with practice being cancelled. When he was warmed up, he started seriously looking for trouble, checking his phone every few minutes to see if there were any updates in the report app he’d made. An alert popped up, and he made a beeline for the area, ready to kick some ass.
He's back at home, in bed and apparently asleep by the time Charlie gets back from work.
“Does it really have to be this late?” Quackity complained, dragging his feet on the polished tiles.
“It’s barely midnight. You don’t go to sleep until 4.” Sam said, raising an eyebrow.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not doing stuff that I don’t want to be interrupted.” Quackity groaned, half-heartedly smacking the elevator button.
“What was the alert about?” Phil asked, joining them to wait for the elevator, his expression hard. Sam still stiffened at the sound of his voice.
Quackity, however, scoffed at him. “Chill out, Cap. It’s just the government guy.”
“Ross?” Phil’s brows tightened, glancing between the two of them.
“Not Thaddeus, they moved that guy somewhere else. This guy’s name is Taran Ross, coincidentally. They’re not related.” Sam told him, keeping his eyes ahead of him.
“I think he’s younger. And thus, hopefully not so much of a hard-ass.” Quackity said. Phil shot him a look. “What? Your ass is pretty hard too.”
“That was a weird thing to say.” Sam said, the elevator doors opening. Quackity just grinned at him.
“Does he want the whole team? Or just us?” Phil asked. The three stepped in.
“The original team, yeah.” Sam hit the button.
“Where’s Niki?”
“Out.” Sam answered.
“Skeppy?”
“He’s in the labs still, I think. I sent him a message.”
Phil nodded. “Any idea what it’s about?”
“Nope. Told me he’d discuss it with us on-call.”
On the way up, the elevator stopped. When the doors opened, Skeppy all but fell in. “Sorry.” He breathed. “Got caught up.”
“It’s fine.” Sam told him.
“I don’t know why Ross wants to talk to me. I wasn’t even there when the whole Accords thing went down.” Skeppy said.
“Different Ross. And I don’t think it’s about the Accords.”
Skeppy shot him a narrow-eyed look. “That wasn’t cryptic at all.”
Sam shrugged. “He was cryptic when I got a message from him.”
Skeppy hummed, and they waited for the elevator to stop in silence.
When the doors opened, Sam stepped out first, moving to start the call. Within seconds, a holographic of a much younger man stood before them. His face was clean shaven, his hair swooped to one side, and his skin a rich brown colour. He was dressed much the same as the other Ross had been, though.
“Evening.” He said, dipping his head in greeting.
“It’s the middle of the night, actually.” Quackity snipped. Usually he wouldn’t have said anything, but he wanted to know how this new man would react.
Taran Ross quirked a small smile. “Yes. Sorry about it, I’m currently on the other side of the world, but they still wanted me to deliver this in my time.”
“It’s fine.” Quackity smiled back. He liked this Ross much better than the last.
“Either way, I’ll get on with it so I don’t take too much of your time. The super that you brought with you to the airport,” He started, looking at Sam, “What did he call himself?”
“Spider-Man.” Sam said. The name brought a recent memory of himself recruiting the kid on a rooftop.
“Spider-Man. Well, he is a super-powered individual. The Accords say we need his identity and full knowledge of his powers.”
“Okay.” Sam said slowly.
“We need you to help us get it from him.”
“We’re not going to force it from him.” Phil stepped up.
Ross shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t ask you to. We also want to keep him out there just as much as he does, but we need this information. Every time he goes out without our knowledge, he violates the Accords. We’re willing to let it slip for a while, since it’s only been a month since we’ve put them in place, but we need to get his information before the public tires of it. People are already questioning it. If he refuses, we will have to arrest him.”
Sam nodded seriously. “Okay. What do we do?”
“Go out and find him. You were the one to recruit him. I’m hoping he’ll trust you enough to let you explain what you need and why you need it.” Ross said. “If not, I want the Captain to try next, maybe to get a different opinion. If you can try, do it. You can tell the rest of your team if you need to. This is for his sake, not ours.”
Sam nodded again. “Alright. We can do that.”
“I will do my best to give you as much time as we are allowed. I will check in some time next month if you haven’t gotten through to him yet, and we’ll see what I can do to help.”
“Okay.”
“Good luck.” Ross nodded, and the call was cut.
There was a silence for a second. Then Phil asked, “Spider-Man is the kid at the airport?”
“Yeah.” Sam nodded, suddenly having to organize some paperwork.
“He told me he was from Queens.” Phil said.
“That’s true, that’s where he patrols the most.” Sam nodded again.
“You don’t know who he is?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I needed quick help to deal with your dumbass. I didn’t have time to try and figure out his identity. I caught him while he was out the night before. He told me he’d come, but only if I didn’t try to find out who he was.” Sam told him, then shrugged. “I told him I wouldn’t. He kept his mask on the whole time. I have no idea who he is.”
“You didn’t even try?” Quackity asked him.
“No. I keep my word.” Sam said, walking back to the elevators.
“So where do we start?” Phil asked.
“I don’t know. We should just try to talk to him. I have meetings scheduled for the next three nights at the times he goes out, so someone else will have to try first.”
“Wouldn’t he listen to you better? You’re the one who recruited him in the first place.”
“I don’t know. He was very adamant on not letting his identity out when he talked to me. You might be a better shot, since you have agreed to the Accords.” Sam said, his expression carefully neutral as he studied the elevator buttons.
Phil nodded. “I can try. Didn’t you give him a suit?”
“Yes, but he gave it back.” Sam said. A beat, then, “It’s not going to be enough to just get the information from him. We’re going to need him to meet with someone, probably Ross, so they have it directly from him.”
“What do I do?” Skeppy asked. “He’s not going to recognize me. He won’t care.”
Sam looked at him, thinking. “I’m not sure. You might not be able to do anything until we can at least get him to tell us.”
“It won’t be that hard.” Quackity said. Sam was less sure.