Dread lanced through every fiber and bone in Peter’s body, fear becoming his best friend within seconds.
He stared at the headline through his mask, the television screen blaring his true identity for all Queens bystanders to witness. His body rocked as if he were on a boat, or affected by some sort of airborne drug.
His fingers grabbed the top of the lamppost to steady himself, feeling his knuckles whiten underneath his new suit. His vision blurred, and he was about ready to have a panic attack in the middle of a public intersection.
Peter felt himself losing control, and before he could black out, he gripped the lamppost tighter. He took a deep breath, and the excess oxygen got his blood flowing again. His mind was restored, and his logic with it.
And the logical part of his mind was telling him, in the option of fight or flight, to run as fast as he could.
But first, Peter looked down, MJ peering up at him with wide eyes. She knew who he was, but she was just as shocked at the broadcast as him.
Peter should have never been foolish enough to think that it would be over. Mysterio was a villain whose influence would never be over. Even dead, Mysterio haunts him, and always will.
He saw MJ’s endless concern for his well-being in her gaze, and Peter sensed heads starting to turn in his direction.
Oh shit.
MJ mouthed, ‘run.’
Peter hesitated, wishing there was something he could verbalize in this moment that could placate her worries. But there was nothing he could do that would make this better.
He nodded, trying to thank her and apologize at the same time. MJ seemed to understand, and she backpedaled away from him.
Peter used the offered room to shoot out a web, and swing away faster and farther than ever.
His mind was reeling, and the wind was battering him as he flew faster than he could comprehend. Despite a loss of his mental faculties, he found his way to the apartment window. He slid it open and crashed inside his room, webbing the window shut again.
He laid on the carpet and breathed, taking a moment for himself.
It was quickly broken by the sound of his Stark phone ringing, piercing through the silence.
Peter tore off his mask and slid his phone out of a secret compartment by his hip. He saw the caller ID and was relieved when he saw who it was.
“Holy shit, kid,” Happy Hogan said in a panicked voice, “how did this happen?”
Peter sighed, wishing he could sink into his carpet like quicksand and get swallowed up by it. “I don’t know. It was Mysterio. Had to be, right?”
“But he’s dead,” Happy said curtly.
“Yes,” Peter said, trying very hard to think, “but it could have been a last resort. You know...in case I succeeded.”
Happy was silent, and Peter rewound his words. It made sense, didn’t it? It made too much sense, in fact.
Even now, Mysterio hadn’t lost.
“We need to get in front of this,” Happy said determinedly. “You just waived your rights as a minor. You need protection.”
“Happy,” Peter snorted, “I’m a superhero.”
“I mean protection,” Happy emphasized, “from the law.”
Peter exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut once his ceiling started to spin. “You’re saying I need a lawyer?”
“More than one lawyer,” Happy corrected.
“So,” Peter forced his eyes open again, the blurriness gone, “can you get Stark lawyers to do something?”
“I cannot.”
“Oh.” Peter paused, uncertainty and fear creeping in again. “So now what do I do?”
“Go to Hell’s Kitchen,” Happy instructed, “in disguise, of course. Find Nelson & Murdock. When you go inside, show the secretary Karen Page the gold card I’m sending over to you on a Stark drone. The gold card is cashing in a favor, and they’ll be obliged to help you.”
“Favor? What kind of favor?”
“Let’s just say...Tony knew more superheroes than the Avengers.”
“M-more?” Peter’s mind spun at the possibility. “O-okay. Hell’s Kitchen. Nelson & Murdock. Gold card to Karen Page. Did I get all that?”
“Good, kid. The drone will be there in thirty seconds. Open your window for interception.”
Peter struggled to his feet, feeling light-headed as he opened the window. A rush of air hitting his skin soon alleviated his dizziness.
“Happy?”
“Yeah, kid?”
Peter chirped, “thank you for the help. I almost had a panic attack.”
There was a pause, and he knew that Happy was concerned. “Take some breaths and get to it, alright? I’ll call you to check in tomorrow.”
“Alright. Thank you.”
“Stay safe, kid.”
Happy ended the call, and Peter hung up on his end. He set the phone on the carpet, opening up the back to take out the SD card. His memory chip could be tracked, now that they knew his name. He had to dispose of it.
Peter looked out the window and heard drone blades spearing through the air. He chucked the memory chip as far as he could throw it.
Once he heard it land two blocks away, a drone lowered itself to his window. A claw retracted as the blades hovered in midair, holding out a blank business card covered in gold plastic. It looked like the kind bought at the dollar store to wrap gifts in, and Peter snorted at the image of a billionaire possessing such a cheap item.
Peter grabbed the card out of the claw, and the drone promptly flew up and over the apartment building roof. He closed the window and lowered himself onto the bed. His suit collapsed around him, and he stared intently at the gold card.
Time for another adventure.
————
After Peter sent three texts — one to Aunt May, one to Ned, and one to MJ — expressing that he was okay, he took several subway trains to Hell’s Kitchen. He wore a hat, a giant hoodie with his high school insignia on it, and sunglasses to look like a normal teenage boy.
Since he didn’t know where he was going, exactly, he started on one street and made his way down all of them. He found Nelson & Murdock on the second street, the names painted in rose gold on a thick glass door.
It was late afternoon, near the end of a typical workday. Peter sensed there were indeed people inside, and he twisted the doorknob open.
The layout of the office was plain and simple: the secretary’s desk two steps down and three paces from the door, two corner offices for both lawyers, and a small seating area on the left side of the desk. The walls and floors were stark white and brown, potted plants scattered around to make the office look more appealing.
A young woman with porcelain skin and strawberry blonde hair tossed over one shoulder peered at him when he entered. Her eyes were as blue as ice, and just as cold and calculating.
“May I help you?” The secretary, who must be Karen Page, asked.
Peter shyly shuffled over to the desk. “I’ve been told to show you,” the gold card glinted in his hand, “this.”
The woman’s eyes widened as she saw the card, and she rose from the desk. She smoothed out her black pencil skirt and light blue blouse. She glanced nervously at the closed doors behind her, and she exclaimed, “Matt! Foggy!”
The door labeled ‘Murdock’ opened first, and Peter blinked incredulously as a handsome blind man appeared with red-tinted glasses and a cane. “Who is it, Karen?”
The door labeled ‘Nelson’ opened next, and the man that stepped out of the office looked more suited to being a guitarist on a college campus lawn than being a lawyer. Giant eyes glanced at Peter, and answered for Matt, “some teenage boy.”
“No,” Karen said suddenly, gazing at Peter closely, garnering the attention of both men, “this is Spider-Man.”
Foggy snorted instantly, walking forward to where Karen stood. “This kid can’t be Spider-Man. His identity isn’t known.”
“As of an hour ago,” Karen held up the news app on her phone, “it was.”
Foggy made grabby hands at Karen’s phone, and Peter noticed Matt walk towards them without need for aid. He absently wondered how Matt could do that, but he didn’t know much about blind men.
Foggy read the news article quickly, and blinked over at Peter. “Holy shit. How old are you, kid?”
“Seventeen,” Peter said curtly.
“Even his voice is too young,” Foggy sighed. “Ah, God. Why are you here, man?” Peter held up the gold card again, and Foggy’s eyes widened. “That card was given to-”
“Tony Stark,” Peter chimed. “Mhm.”
Foggy eyed him suspiciously. “You better explain yourself fast.”
Peter knew he had to remain detached and formal to get results. “Tony was my mentor. I was given this gold card by his right hand man, Happy Hogan. Happy told me you had a debt to repay, and that debt is me.”
“Protection,” Matt said, heads turning in his direction. “He wants protection.”
Karen, Matt, and Foggy looked between each other, as if having a silent conversation. Peter waited, trying not to engage in one of his many nervous ticks.
Foggy folded his arms and said to Peter, “prove that you’re Spider-Man.”
Peter racked his brain on how he could possibly do that without using his web-slingers.
The answer was two-fold. Peter walked towards a blank wall, and the three adults watched confusedly. Peter toed off his shoes, his socks touching the wall. He concentrated, and placed his foot flat on the wall. As the other foot met the first, he began to walk up the wall.
“Matt,” Foggy breathed, “he’s walking on the fucking wall.”
“How in the hell in that possible?” Karen said incredulously.
Peter reached the ceiling, splayed his palms on it, and pushed off. His fingers held up in the air, and with a simple wrist movement, he landed lightly on the ground.
Peter suddenly heard a buzzing with his Spider-senses. He honed in on the fly, and shot out his hand.
Between two fingers, he caught the bug, stunting its wings briefly. Foggy gaped, and Peter let the bug fly towards the ceiling again.
“Okay?” Peter shrugged. “Want me to backflip off a skyscraper next?”
The edge of a smile was prevalent on Matt’s face, amusement in his tone. “That isn’t necessary. What’s your name?”
“Peter Parker,” he replied, toeing his sneakers back on.
“You have an interesting heartbeat, Peter Parker,” Matt said, cocking his head to the side. “You aren’t afraid or apprehensive, like most of my clients.”
“Are you saying you accept the card?” Peter asked. “Because I have no other option here.”
“I accept the card,” Matt said, Foggy’s head snapping towards him.
Foggy whispered in Matt’s ear, “are you sure about this? You didn’t exactly let me answer. We didn’t exactly discuss this.”
“You can discuss it,” Peter said.
Three heads swiveled in his direction, Foggy looked completely shocked. “You heard that?”
Peter smiled innocently. “Super hearing. Sorry. It is annoying. I’ll, um,” he walked towards the chairs, “go over here.”
Matt grinned. “You’ll still hear.”
Peter stopped moving, then thought back to Matt’s earlier comment. He said that Peter had an interesting heartbeat.
This blind man had some sort of enhanced hearing too!
Matt glanced in Foggy’s direction, his round tinted glasses gleaming in a flash of light. “You don’t have to join me on this one. Karen and I can manage.”
Foggy rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Your guilt tripping really is inspired, Matty.” He regarded Peter, a long strand of dirty blonde hair falling across his cheek. “You’ll have to tell us everything. Any question we ask, you have to answer honestly, to the best of your ability. You can hide absolutely nothing. Is that clear?”
A twinge of hesitation spiked Peter’s heartbeat, but he realized it was a natural response. The quick spike went back down, and he could sense a slight movement in Matt’s head as he registered it.
Peter found it a little freaky, but he knew a thing or two about being an oddball.
Peter answered, “we’re clear.”
————
Peter sat at one end of a table next to Karen’s desk. As Karen locked the door and put up a ‘closed’ sign, Peter felt like he was about to be interrogated at a police station.
He hoped he wasn’t going to be interrogated. He wasn’t good with that. He cracked under pressure.
Matt and Foggy sat on the opposite end of the table. They introduced themselves formally as Matthew Murdock and Franklin Nelson. The woman said she was Karen Page, which Peter knew already, but he pretended not to know. Karen perched herself on the secretary desk, a bird ready to take flight and chime in if needed.
Peter took off his hood and sunglasses, and Foggy made a noise. “You’re so little, kid. Damn.”
“I bet he’s a heartbreaker,” Karen said, and Peter couldn’t tell if she was teasing or genuine.
Peter glanced at the table shyly. “Not really,” he murmured.
“First,” Matt began, getting them on track, “I need to know about your family situation.”
“I live with my Aunt May in Queens,” Peter said.
“What about everyone else?”
“My parents died when I was young,” Peter replied, “and my uncle died three years ago.”
Foggy wrote it on a pad of paper with a deep frown, and Peter was glad to see no sympathy in Matt’s or Karen’s eyes.
“What about friends?” Matt asked.
“A best friend and a girlfriend,” Peter said. “That’s it.”
“Names?”
“Do I have to?” Peter asked warily.
Karen winced, then saw Matt’s blank slate of an expression. She saw that he would not yield, and smiled impishly at Peter. “You’re being protected. So are they,” she placated.
“Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones,” Peter said quickly, watching Foggy write it down.
“Did any of these three people know you were Spider-Man before the news leaked?” Foggy asked.
“Yes,” Peter answered, “all of them.”
“Who else knew?” Karen inquired.
“They’re all either dead, in prison, or SHIELD agents with high security clearance.” Peter shrugged so he wouldn’t wince. “Or an Avenger. Though only a few know my name.”
“What school do you go to?” Matt asked.
“Midtown Science and Technology,” Peter replied.
“Oh shit,” Foggy quirked a brow up at him, “you must be smart, huh?”
Peter shrugged modestly. “Depends on what you’re talking about.”
Karen gasped, and she whipped out her phone. She typed in a query, and pulled up a picture of Peter with Tony. “You were hiding in plain sight,” she said incredulously.
Peter couldn’t bring himself to smile as Foggy looked at the photo. He knew it well: there was a copy of it at Tony’s house and in his own bedroom. It was of Tony posing with Peter after awarding him Stark scholarship money, a plaque between them.
Foggy leaned over to see the picture and remarked, “huh, clever.”
“How well did you know Tony Stark?” Matt asked, and Peter did wince visibly at that.
“A mentor, you said,” Karen recalled. She blinked downwards, and frowned. “I’m sorry. Past few months must have been hard.”
Peter said nothing, since he didn’t feel like blubbering or sniffling in front of near strangers. He had to hold it together.
“You must have meant a lot to him,” Foggy said, mustering a wan smile.
“Now,” Matt leaned forward in interest, “how did you get your powers?”
Peter hesitated. “It’s going to sound really dumb.”
“I think not,” Foggy cut in.
“Um,” Peter said, “I was on a field trip at Oscorp. At the time, they were experimenting with…”
“Don’t say spiders,” Matt said.
“Spiders,” Peter confirmed, hearing Foggy scratch away on the paper pad. “One of them got out and bit me.”
“Bit you,” Matt repeated in disbelief. “And you can walk on walls because of a spider bite?”
“Yup,” Peter said sheepishly.
“How old were you?” Karen asked softly, looking immensely concerned.
“Fourteen.”
“God,” Foggy huffed, “puberty and powers? Fuck that, man. I’m sorry.”
“A final question,” Matt said, “and I’ll let you go for now. How did you get exposed?”
“My latest nemesis. He went by the name Mysterio.” Peter snorted out a laugh. “His real name was Quentin Beck.”
“Was?” Karen asked numbly.
“I got his own tech to turn on him,” Peter confessed. “The drones killed him. But he thought of everything. Absolutely everything.”
“You’re saying,” Foggy blinked, “in the event of this guy’s death, he had a plan to expose you.”
“Yup,” Peter chirped. “Though, of course, I didn’t know that until it happened.” He shook his head, his tone bitter. “I should’ve known he was too smart not to leave anything behind for me.”
“Peter,” Foggy said, “you’re seventeen. How do you have fucking nemeses? And how do you have to deal with this shit?”
“I grew up fast,” Peter said, at a loss, “I dunno what to tell you. I’ve been dealing with this stuff for years.”
Matt scooted his chair back, and he said, “you need to follow our instructions to the letter. Your entire life just changed today.”
“I’m aware.”
Foggy closed the pad of paper, and Karen shifted uneasily. “First,” Matt said, “you need better disguises. I’m sure Karen can help with that. Second, you need an untraceable phone, which I can get for you. Third, the people you can talk to is limited to four, if you include Tony’s driver. Fourth, you can’t go out as Spider-Man for a few days. Fifth, we need to spend the summer discussing your school situation.”
Peter nodded. “Is this a light form of witness protection?”
“Perhaps,” Matt said considerately. “It’s important that you blend in, and only go out if you absolutely need to. That includes visiting us. Okay?”
“Okay,” Peter said glibly.
————
When Peter shut the apartment door lightly, he expected to be greeted by dark loneliness, his aunt having already gone to sleep.
What he was greeted with, instead, was Aunt May, Ned, and MJ awaiting his arrival.
They rose from the couch, and Peter nearly had a heart attack. Was he dreaming? Were they truly here?
Aunt May gathered him in a tight hug, and Peter felt guilty, reality slapping him across the face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, honey,” May murmured, “don’t be sorry. It’s gonna be okay.”
Peter wished he could believe her, but he shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. He pulled back and said softly, “I know it won’t be.”
Ned tugged him into a massive hug, and nearly getting his ribs crushed felt surprisingly preferable to thinking about his uncertain future.
Ned didn’t say a word, knowing he couldn’t find a way to make it better. Still, it didn’t help Peter from hoping that somehow, his jovial friend could find something to soothe him.
MJ hesitated once their eyes met, but Peter must have looked really sad, because she hugged him. Since she rarely showed affection, Peter took the hug for all it was worth. He smelled the scent of her wild hair, picking out something citrus mixed with something floral.
MJ pulled back before he could hone in on her warmth, and his aunt said, “so I see that you have a girlfriend.”
Peter blushed. “Heh. Sorry. New development.”
“Speaking of new developments,” MJ said curiously, “where did you go?”
“Happy,” Peter said, ignoring his aunt’s keen interest, “pointed me in the direction of some lawyers.”
“Smart,” Ned quipped.
“Shouldn’t I take care of that?” Aunt May asked concernedly.
“Mr. Stark already did,” Peter replied awkwardly. “I, uh, I’ll be spending time with them. They know what to do.”
Since none of them had any experience in the arena, they were forced to nod along with Peter.
————
Happy’s call woke up Peter around mid-morning.
Peter scrambled for the phone and answered tiredly, “hello?”
“It’s Happy,” he said. “How are you holding up?”
“It’s...it’s a lot,” Peter said with a sigh. “Those lawyers seem to know what they’re doing, at least.”
“It’ll be fine, kid. How’s...how’s everyone else?”
“My aunt is fine,” Peter scoffed. He didn’t understand how those two had a connection. Frankly, it grossed him out to think too much about. Especially not right now.
Happy dropped the topic, defaulting to business mode. “We’re keeping information in the PR department to a minimum. Also, for your own good, don’t look up anything about yourself.”
“That makes me want to, you know,” Peter said dryly.
“It’s mostly kids at your school looking for their moment in the spotlight.”
“Is one of them Flash Thompson?”
“Yeah...how did you know that?”
“Lucky guess.” Peter huffed. “What a jerk.”
“So what was their advice? The lawyers.”
“Basically to go under a light form of witness protection.”
“Sounds about right.” Happy paused. “You’re gonna get through this, Peter. Take it one day at a time.”
Peter sighed. “Do you know how Beck did this yet?”
“I’ve got a few Avengers working on it.”
Peter couldn’t help the excitement that reached his voice. “Which ones? They’re really helping me?”
“Everyone who can help you is helping you right now,” Happy said. “Your identity reveal gave everyone a real wake-up call.”
Peter thought of the day Tony recruited him during the civil war, and all the times he fought with or against the Avengers since that time. Not many of them seemed to care who was behind the mask. They could tell from his voice that he was young, but they didn’t know he was quite this young.
He never thought about it before, but realizing a minor was fighting alongside adults, most of whom doubled his age, must have been jarring.
That must have shown the Avengers they weren’t doing their jobs quite as well as they should be. If a teenager had to step in, who knows what else could happen.
“They should go after Oscorp,” Peter said bitterly.
“Oscorp? What does Norman Asshole Osborn have to do with any of this?”
“He did this to me,” Peter said tiredly. “He created the thing that created me.”
There was a long beat of silence, Happy registering the shocking information.
“That should be your next mission,” Peter said. “I’ll let your Stark lawyers figure that one out.”
“Um...yeah. Um. Kid...I’ll call you soon. I’ll have Mr. Murdock give me your new number.”
Peter hung up the smartphone and wished he could sink back into bed forever. It would be better than dealing with his new normal.
But Peter wanted to check the news, even though Happy advised against it.
He used all of his energy to sit up in bed, crawling on the floor and plopping in front of an old TV set. A young Peter used to play video games and watch movie tapes on it.
He was surprised when he clicked the dial on that it still worked. It was already on the local news channel, and he turned up the volume.
“-vigilante known as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen made an appearance last night on an old video camera behind a defunct Asian fusion restaurant,” the female anchor said, a photo blowing up on the screen. “Here you can see the mystery figure knocking five mafia men unconscious. The reasons for the altercation are unknown.”
Peter squinted his eyes, observing the man in a red suit take out five men in less than a minute. The way in which he moved was almost unbelievable, his punches and kicks so fast that Peter wondered how he even saw where to land his blows.
Peter paused the screen, observing the grainy pixels closer. A flickering lamp light showed that the man had a mask that covered his eyes, only leaving his nose and mouth exposed.
Happy’s words echoed through his mind: ‘let’s just say...Tony knew more superheroes than the Avengers.’
He leaned back, mouth agape and eyes wide.
The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen didn’t need to see where to land his blows. In fact, he didn’t seem to have sight at all.
Peter scrambled to his feet and found clothes to wear. He was going to pay a visit to a certain blind man he just met yesterday.
————
When the office was closed for lunch hour, Peter somehow knew where to go next.
In his mind, he ran through the Devil’s moves on the security footage that played on the news. The man relied on punches, while Peter himself relied more on kicks. Peter knew a few moves from martial arts, so what sports required punching?
As he walked to the next block, Peter stopped in his tracks and nearly laughed out loud.
A boxing gym.
Peter adjusted his large sunglasses and lowered his hood, the door chiming as he entered the space. A boxing ring was off to one corner, while punching bags and weights were on the other side. Peter ignored any glances he received and soon found the man he was looking for.
He was the only one by the punching bags, stripped to black sweatpants and an undershirt. His knuckles and arms were wrapped underneath black boxing gloves, and he stood rigidly as he landed hits on the bag.
As Peter neared him, his head tilted to the side, as if training his ear in Peter’s direction. His red-tinted glasses were off, and Peter was surprised that his eyes weren’t white. They were so brown they were almost black, blending into his pupils.
Peter leaned against the punching bag, Matt lowering his boxing gloves. His eyes were trained on Peter’s shoulder.
“Hey, Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” Peter said quietly.
Matt’s eyes went to Peter’s chin, following the sound of his voice, and he winced. “Am I that obvious?”
“Only if you’re looking as closely as me,” Peter replied.
Matt rose to his full height, breaking his boxing stance. “I assume you’re used to being underestimated.”
Peter shrugged. “Never really thought about it, but I guess so.”
“We were wondering if you would show up today,” Matt said. “Foggy placed a bet against you.”
“He can pay up, then.”
Matt’s mouth twinged upwards on one side. “I think I’m gonna like you, Peter.”
————
Peter burst out laughing when he saw himself in a hand-held mirror. He told Karen he was against hair dye, but her death glare got him to consent to a blonder tone.
“I look like Cap,” Peter said amidst his own chuckles.
“As in,” Foggy’s eyes widened, “America?”
“Yeah,” Peter said amusedly, setting the mirror on Karen’s desk. “His hair is dirty blonde, not completely blonde like the pictures make him look.”
“Is he as handsome as he looks?” Karen inquired, getting an eye roll from Foggy.
“I guess,” Peter said with a shrug.
Matt stepped out of his office, Foggy rushing to guide him over. Foggy took some papers in his hands while Matt focused on using his cane.
“Who else have you met?” Karen asked.
“Avengers?” Peter thought. “Uh, I have a friendly feud with Falcon and the Winter Soldier. War Machine and I play online poker on Thursday nights. I train with Black Widow one day a week. I’ve run missions with Doctor Strange a few times, which was absolutely freaky. I help Hulk with science stuff sometimes.”
“We get it. Wow,” Karen snorted. “Right under our noses. What does your girlfriend think about this?”
“MJ? She couldn’t care less.”
The door jangled, and the foursome stood on alert.
A teenage girl entered, long wavy hair covering her brown-skinned face. She wore baggy blue harem pants and several patterned shirts underneath a bright yellow rain jacket. She sipped on a cherry red slushie, making a particularly loud noise through the straw as her boots squelched from the drizzling rain outside.
“Yo,” MJ said, “did someone say my name?”
“MJ,” Peter squeaked, “how did you find me?”
“It wasn’t exactly hard,” MJ said boredly. “All you had to say was Hell’s Kitchen, and it took approximately five minutes to find this place.”
Peter facepalmed. “Ah, shit. You’re too smart.”
MJ offered an awkward hand wave, stepping further into the office. “So, I’m MJ. Sup. Which one is Nelson, and which one is Murdock?”
Karen gaped, but since the other men were dazed by MJ’s arrival, it was up to her to speak. “I’m Karen Page. Blind one’s Murdock. Surfer dude’s Nelson.”
“Lit.” MJ sucked on the rest of the slushie and shoved the empty cup in Peter’s hands. She approached the secretary’s desk fearlessly. “Looks like you do everything here, Karen Page. I speak from experience when I say,” she clutched her heart, “I can relate.”
Karen laughed, her blue eyes gleaming. “You know what? Don’t lose that fire.”
“Don’t plan on it.” MJ turned to Peter, taking the slushie and throwing it in a trash can. “You look awful, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Peter mumbled.
MJ regarded the two lawyers again. “Do you have first names, or do I have to make them up?”
Foggy smiled bitingly at her. “I go by Foggy. My friend is Matt.”
“Did you do any guitar-playing on the lawn of Columbia, Foggy?”
Karen burst out laughing at her desk, and Peter admitted, “I thought that too. But MJ, we don’t say those things out loud.”
“I do,” MJ said with a breezy smile.
“No, I didn’t,” Foggy muttered.
MJ squinted her eyes at Matt. She looked at him very closely, and she asked, “are you that Devil guy who fights crime at night?”
Peter nearly fell to the floor, and Karen grew very serious, paling within seconds. Foggy sputtered in a poor excuse of a cover-up. “This guy?” Foggy waved a hand. “Nah.”
“It’s okay, Foggy,” Matt said, his head tilted down, trying to discern MJ’s eye level. “Peter figured it out at lunch.”
MJ whirled around at Peter, looking scandalized and shocked. “This joker right here?” She pointed at him incredulously, gaping at Matt. “He beat me to the punch?”
“Technically,” Peter held up his hands, “you still won. It took me a day. It took you two minutes.”
MJ cackled, clearly pleased with herself. “So what are we doing here, besides giving Peter a horrible hair color?”
“Strategizing,” Foggy said curtly.
“Cool.” MJ grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the secretary desk. She sent a smile Karen’s way and said, “since the Sokovia Accords has a loophole, superheroes waive their natural rights, even if that person is a minor. Peter cannot be regarded as a minor if tried in court, so that opens a whole can of worms. What are we doing about that?”
Foggy and Karen blinked at MJ’s words, and Matt asked, “are you thinking about law school, MJ?”
“Political science, actually,” MJ said with a shrug. “Though they do overlap on occasion.”
“Hate to be the bad guy,” Foggy said, “but should she be here during confidential talks?”
“Dude,” MJ said, “I’m a social deterrent.”
“I think she’ll be helpful,” Karen interjected.
MJ smiled innocently. “Thank you, Karen.”
“Another brain wouldn’t be the worst idea,” Matt agreed.
“Okay, political science,” Foggy said, “whatcha got?”
MJ, who had been waiting for permission, opened her mouth.
————
“Are you sure, man?” Peter struggled to pick out Matt’s form in the shadows of the boxing gym. The sun was starting to set, and Matt’s second job as a vigilante was due to begin soon enough.
He hadn’t expected a sparring invitation the week after they met. But in that week, Aunt May and Ned found their way to the Nelson & Murdock office. Ned helped with tech support, which made Karen infinitely happy. Aunt May brought food for the group, which in turn delighted Matt and Foggy. They tried to make the best of a horrible situation, and Peter didn’t know how to thank them for it.
Peter figured he could learn boxing. Another tactic to add to his list of techniques.
Matt wanted Peter to punch him, and Peter hadn’t expected to be so conflicted about it.
Well, he did expect to be conflicted about punching a blind man. It was the fact that Matt didn’t seem to care about being punched.
Matt raised his boxing gloves. His unseeing eyes glittered in the darkness, and Peter felt a little scared to spar with a man who could blend into shadows so easily. Peter thinks, if he were one of the men beaten up on that security camera footage, he would have peed himself.
The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, indeed.
“Worry about yourself,” Matt said. “Now put them up.”
Peter raised his boxing gloves, which were too large for his hands, and felt Matt’s gloves tap his.
Matt moved stiffly but swiftly, backing up as Peter stepped forward. Matt sidestepped and pawed at Peter’s side, but Peter slipped past him.
Peter took a calming breath, his Spider-senses working on full blast. Matt was the aggressor, trying to land punches, but Peter was agile enough to miss them. He could anticipate the direction Matt would go, and block accordingly.
“Hm,” Matt said, “not bad, Spider.” He made to punch Peter’s stomach, but he put both gloves together to block Matt’s jab.
Peter made to hold onto the glove and twist, but Matt locked their legs together. Matt made to bring Peter down, but as they fell, Peter remembered a move Natasha taught him.
He maneuvered his body so that his legs held all the weight. He twirled so fast that Matt’s knees buckled and he fell on the mat. Peter jumped away before Matt hit the cushion, landing in a crouch.
Matt pushed himself into a crisscrossed position, and he laughed. “Can you teach me that?”
“Depends on how blind you are,” Peter said honestly.
“Probably not as blind as you think.”
Peter’s brow quirked upwards. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m blind,” Matt said, his dark eyes positioned downwards, “but I can see...shapes.”
“Like how?” Peter leaned forward with immense interest.
“Body heat signatures,” Matt said. “As if I were looking through...night vision goggles, maybe. I can also hear heartbeats, and measure stress levels.”
“Cool,” Peter said, sounding like a little boy. “That must give you a real advantage in the courtroom.”
“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t.”
“How’d it happen?” Peter added as an afterthought, “if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Chemical spill,” Matt replied.
“Huh,” Peter remarked, “that’s crazy. So you’re blind...but also not conventionally.”
“It’s hard to explain,” Matt said, tipping his head up a little, “but that sounds about right.”
Feeling that the topic exhausted itself, Peter asked, “do you like your superhero name?”
“My...superhero name.”
“Yeah. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. It’s a really lofty superhero name. Do you like it?”
Matt shook his head. “Someone I used to know came up with a better name.”
“Ooh. What is it?” Peter couldn’t help his curiosity.
Matt paused, as if unsure he should answer. Whoever this person was clearly had a special place in his heart, and something bad had happened.
But after a moment, Matt said, “Daredevil.”
Peter grinned widely. “Yeahhhh. That works so well. Nice. We need to get it changed.”
Matt huffed out a laugh. “Spider-Man and Daredevil team up to fight crime in Queens and Hell’s Kitchen. It would sure get the media off your back about your identity.”
Concern for Matt’s identity was instantly prevalent in Peter’s mind. However, Matt had been doing this for years, and never got caught. Maybe he could handle the excess heat better than Peter ever could.
Peter shrugged and said, “that would be something, wouldn’t it?”