darkest before the dawn

August 1th, 2016

9:12 AM

Peter blearily made his way into the kitchen, wearing his Hello Kitty pajama pants and his Captain America shirt, hair mussed up in a way that had his hair going everywhere. His bare feet slapped against the carpeted floor as he slowly stumbled into the kitchen, his body aching like a giant bruise. It often did after his healing factor had to work as hard as it did last night. Or this morning. 

Mr. Aaron was a really strange person. Who picks up a strange cryptid and takes them to their home? That’s at least the plot of a horror movie, if he’s being honest. 

A soft snore catches his attention. Aunt May’s on the sofa again, sleeping in her scrubs as the Amazing World of Gumball plays on the TV. 

She must’ve had a nightmare again.

Today’s her day off, so Peter doesn’t bother waking her up. She doesn’t sleep as much as she should. They’ll talk to each other later tonight and Peter has stuff to do.

Namely, go to the library and search up this ‘Turk Barrett’, because he is not going to wander around Hell’s Kitchen and look for a guy who used to work for Fisk. No thank you.

Trudging back to his room with a poptart in his mouth, Peter digs through his room to find a pair of jeans and a shirt, and also digging out his binder out from under his bed, where he tossed it last night {this morning} when he came home. He pulls his clothes on, careful to avoid the giant bruise on his left side and the bandage on his hip from the day before when he scraped it against a building. 

Peter considers for a moment, then pulls a light grey-sweatshirt out of his closet. Easier to cover the scrapes. It’s got Darth Vader on the back, so plus. His suit, hidden in a small compartment in his ceiling, is left there. All he needs to do is collect research. That’s what he needs to do right now. Not patrol.

Peter brushes his teeth and puts deoderant on, running a comb through his hair. It still looks like he didn’t do anything to it, but Flash says that’s how it always looks, so he figures it’s decent. There’s a bruise on his cheek, but it’ll be gone before noon. 

He grabs Ben’s watch and puts it on, the battered silver thing heavy on his wrist. Turning around, he makes sure his room is a mess, but a mess he can find things in. It’s a mess no one else can find things in, though. Points to paranoia.

His puzzle necklace is hidden under his shirt, which has a picture of a cow with numbers on it and says Cowculator.  His shoes, a pair of red converse, are laced up tight under his jeans. His knuckles are bloody as shit, so he uses the long sleeves of the sweatshirt to hide them. Grabbing his backpack, he taps a framed photo for good luck, a plastic dinosaur right next to it.

May is still sleeping, so he writes a note saying where he’s going and drapes a blanket over her, turning off the TV and locking the door behind him.

New York in summer is like a person putting a magnifying glass right in front of the sun and expecting the people under it to keep doing what they’re doing underneath what feels like Satan’s asshole.

Luckily, Peter just has to get to the library. There, he can do his super-secret vigilante research from the comfort of air conditioning. And pick up that book he wants. The Magnus Chase one. The one with the talking sword.

He takes the subway, keeping his head down and looking as inconspicuous as possible. It’s just after rush hour and it’s a Saturday, so the subway isn’t that crowded. It’s mostly just tourists and families looking for fun in the summer.

He watches one of them, a mom and a dad with a boy and a girl, talking excitedly to each other about plans for the day.

They’re going to Central Park.

He turns away.

It feels like forever until he reaches his stop, bounding out of the station and walking as fast as he can, backpack thumping against his back. He can see the library in front of him, it’s maybe a hundred feet away, and then it’s a two minute walk to the computers where he can finally get a lead on the guys he’s been trying to find for months-

“Peter!”

Peter freezes. Of course it couldn’t be that simple.

He turns around with a slightly forced smile. “Hey, Ned.”

Ned Leeds, thirteen years-old and childhood innocence given life form, pants slightly as he runs up to Peter, beaming at him all the same. “Hey, dude! What are you doing out?”

Peter gestures vaguely at the building behind him. “Library.”

“Cool!” Ned says happily, as if Peter had said that he was going to go see Lady Gaga. “What for?”

Peter scratches the back of his head. “Research. Just a fun science experiment. And whatnot.”

“That’s awesome. Um, hey, were you going to go do something after? We could go hang out if you want. I was gonna go to the comic book store, and you could come with me, if you wanted to.”

Ned looks so hopeful and Peter wants to scream slightly. But he won’t, because Ned is literally the only one who is ever nice to him in school.

See, when Peter transferred from Falsworth Elementary in Manhattan to Mills Elementary in Queens when he and Aunt May moved last year, literally no one talked to him for the first few months of school. Granted, it might have been to do with the fact he had a giant scar running across his cheek, but it still hurt. He was the weird, scarred newbie that got called by his deadname on the first day of class and was mercilessly mocked for it by people who didn’t understand to shut up. It also didn’t help that Peter, completely done with the world at large, picked fights with people bigger than him and pushed people away. He would’ve faded away into the background if it wasn’t for the fact that Peter routinely beat everyone at tests and grades, even though he usually spent class sleeping or reading a book.

It earned him a nemesis, one Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson, but it amused Peter to no end to see Flash flush an angry red when he would answer a question wrong and Peter would get it right. 

They’re on the same path, Mills Elementary allowing students to test into Midtown High School, an elite high school that’s usually only meant for rich kids. Kids like Flash or Liz or Betty. Even Ned would be able to afford the tuition, unlike Peter, who applied for a scholarship. He, along with a girl named Michelle, were the only ones going to Midtown that were going solely on grades and not money. Due to this, and the fact that the teachers had warned the class ahead of time that Peter was going through some hard times, {Thanks public school} Peter was often left out of stuff. He didn’t have any friends and ate alone at lunch. Nobody talked to him and he was fine with that. He could deal with not having friends.

Except for Ned Fucking Leeds, who seemed determined to make Peter his friend.

It wasn’t like Ned didn’t have any friends. He had his Robot Club, Betty, Cindy, and literally everyone talked to him because Ned was just nice. Hell, even Flash talked to him sometimes. Even worse, Michelle Jones, the most terrifying 8th grader he’s ever met, was nice to Ned. Ned wasn’t exactly hurting for company.

And yet. He sat with Peter at lunch, trying to engage him in conversation even though Peter gave him one-word answers, He partnered with him at PE, always talking excitedly about something. He kept trying to invite Peter places, even though Peter really couldn’t go out because the last time he went somewhere with a friend they died  patrol was a thing and he couldn’t leave Aunt May by herself all the time. 

Nevertheless, Ned persisted. 

Peter sighs inwardly. He’s got maybe five dollars in his bag, and he’d rather save it for an emergency. Still, a comic book store sounds nice and Ben would be disappointed if he said no without a good excuse he didn’t have anything to do this afternoon.

“Sure,” Ned perks up, a slow grin forming across his face, “I gotta research something, though. You could wait with me, if you want.”

“Absolutely!” Ned nearly shouts, beaming happily as he skips up to Peter and Peter can’t help the small smile. “So, what are your favorites? Mine’s Batman and the Flash, and I also like the Star Wars comics.”

Peter hums. “I like Harley Quinn. And Suicide Squad. I like reading those Captain America comics, though.”

“Even though he’s a war criminal?”

“Especially since he’s a war criminal. Now you can watch the news and laugh at the comics because they completely got his characterization wrong.”

Ned seems a little put off by this. “Favorite Avenger?”

Peter ponders this. “I have to say it’s Black Widow. She’s scary and really smart.”

Ned grins. “Mine’s Thor. Who’s your favorite vigilante?”

Peter starts to jog up the stairs, Ned close behind. “I don’t have one.”

“What? No! You’ve gotta like one of them. I mean, there’s Daredevil, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones. You’ve got to think one of them is cool.”

“I’m not like Flash; I don’t thirst over superheroes like he does with Iron Man.”

Ned turns and faces him. “Oh, Flash’s over Iron Man now. He thinks that Spider-Man is the best superhero. Which is weird ‘cuz Spider-Man might not exist.”

And he could’ve lived without that information.

Peter purses his lips. “Why’s that?”

“Oh, Flash thinks he’s the coolest. Don’t know why. Maybe it’s ‘cuz Queens finally has a superhero, I mean, how cool is that?” Ned gasps. “Peter.”

Peter glances at him. “What?”

“Do you think Spider-Man knows the Defenders? Like, Luke Cage and Jessica Jones?” Ned’s getting really excited now, and Peter’s feeling slightly awkward because he doesn’t know the Defenders, ‘cuz he’s been as careful as he can be with his identity so that doesn’t mean he can go play with the other superheroes. “Peter, how cool would that be? A Daredevil-Spider-Man team-up!”

Peter gives a small grin. “That would be the coolest.”

“God, it would be so cool to see the other vigilantes in Queens. That would be my favorite thing. I mean, even seeing the Punisher,” Ned says and Peter suddenly goes cold, because that name means- “would be cool. Even though he kills people. He’s still cool, but my mom-”

“Ned,” Peter interrupts. “Stop talking.”

Ned looks caught off guard. “What?”

Peter faces him, smile gone. Ned’s taller than him, but Peter is five steps ahead of him. “Can we, just. Not talk about him. Okay? Not about him.”

Ned looks confused, but Peter’s not in the mood. He just doesn’t want to talk about him, doesn’t want to remember himdoesn’t want to think about the morals of vigilantism. “All right, man. Um, library?”

Peter gives him a tight grin. “Yeah. Library.”

They continue into the library, Ned still chattering away.

❁

“Who’s that?”

Peter breathes in, then out. “Nobody important.”

Ned still looks suspicious. “Are you sure? ‘Cuz you’ve been glaring at the computer screen for five minutes now.”

Peter was just trying to look this one guy up. This Turk Barrett guy. Just get an address or even a picture, but noooo. The 15th Precinct just had to update their software so Peter would have to find more ways around it. And of course, he could do it. It just took time and he didn’t have that.

So he was reduced to google searching. It was not working.

“Like, do you know him?” Ned pushed and Peter regretted everything, “Is he a family friend?”

“He knew my dad,” Peter says, just to get Ned off his back. He has no idea if this Turk guy actually knew Richard Parker. Though, it’s not unlikely.

Ned goes silent. Peter’s not quite sure what the school has decided on what his traumatic backstory is, but he knows for sure that most of the kids think that his dad is dead. And the other half searched him up online and found out that his dad’s in Rikers. Ned is a part of this half.

Ned moves toward the computer. “Let me look.”

And Peter, like the tired person he was, let him.

And then Ned hacked into the NYPD database, searched up Turk Barrett and presented the numerous police reports with the aura of a cat that had caught a mouse.

“Santa Madonna, Leeds,” Peter pored over the reports, eyes wide. “What the hell did you do?”

Ned looked sheepish. “I code in my spare time. And hacking is fun. Plus, I wanted to help you.”

Peter quickly jots down Barrett’s address on a sticky note. It feels weird, letting someone else help him. “Well, thank you.”

“No problem,” Ned looks curious, “Hey, what are you gonna do with the address?”

Peter shrugs. “Just ask him a few questions. Want some answers.”

“Well, be careful,” Ned checks his watch, “We should go now. If we hurry, we can go to my house and complete my millennium falcon.”

Peter looks up sharply and Ned backtracks. “But that’s only if you want to! We can just go to the comic book store.”

Peter rubs at his face.

He’s so lonely.

He misses them.

It’s not fair.

“Not today.” Ned looks sad, but not surprised. Peter’s heart does some weird thing. “But, maybe tomorrow? My Aunt’s working all day, so I don’t have much going on.” And Peter can take at least an afternoon off from patrol, even if it feels like he can’t.

Ned looks so fucking happy. “Yeah! I’ll meet you at your place! Where do you live?”

Peter writes down his address and gives it to Ned. “I sleep late, so if I don’t answer the door, there’s a key hidden on top of the door.”

“Cool!” Ned immediately starts rambling about the stuff they can do tomorrow, so much so that the librarian has to hush them. Ned looks sheepish as Peter quickly deletes their web history and erases their presence of being on the database. He slides the address into his bag, and he and Ned make their way from the library.

“Oh! I’ll bring my lego Death Star. My mama says that if I open it in the house, she’ll kill me.”

Peter laughs and it’s real, for once.

◔

Get up.

What?

We need to leave.

Now?

Now. Or we will never get what we want.

Yeah, and how do I know I can trust you?

You don’t. But I will die without you. And, I can give you what you want.

How?

By giving you the power to do so.

……………

How about a trial? A taste of what I can give you, if you let me take control with you.

And if I don’t like it?

I doubt that will happen. But we must leave first, before anything.

Yeah, and how are we gonna do that, genius?

Leave that to me.

“Doctor? Doctor!”

“Get back!”

“Run!”

“Security breach! Code Red. I repeat, Code Red, Subject is loose and dangerous.”

“Help! Help me, please.”

“..........please.”

Was that enough for you?

Hold on. I wanna take this out for a spin. 

And then?

I’ve got an idea.