Chapter 1
Peter Parker was having the worst day of his life— and that was before the building came down on top of him.
But let’s start at the beginning, shall we?
*bzzzzt* *bzzzzt* *bzzzzt*
Peter groaned and rolled over in bed as the morning sunlight streamed in. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and blindly groped for his phone with the other.
“Uhh,” Peter cleared his throat as he lifted his phone to his ear. “Hey, Ned, I love you bud but why on earth are you calling me this early in the morning?”
“Early? Peter, I’m in our 9:30 applied physics class,” Ned’s voice sounded exasperated even through the phone. “I’m not early; you’re going to be late.”
Peter felt his heart drop into his stomach as he pulled the phone away from his ear and checked the time, 9:28. Shit.
“ThanksNedgottagoseeyousoonbye!” Peter shouted as he hung up and tossed his phone onto the bed and scanned his floor for clean clothes. His eyes landed on his suit across the room, thrown haphazardly across the back of a chair exactly the direction he’d tossed it in last night before collapsing into bed after doing his nightly rounds.
The suit was for emergencies, four years of being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man had taught him that. Four years of stopping robberies, getting kittens out of trees, defeating bad guys, going to space, and watching people he cared about get hurt and sometimes, sometimes watching them die.
Peter looked at the clock. 9:29.
No one was dying today. For today, being late to class was emergency enough.
————————————————
“Six minutes on a fifteen minute commute, might be a personal record is all I’m saying!” Peter elbowed Ned’s arm as they walked out of the lecture hall. “Plus I snuck right into the back and the professor didn’t even notice, she never does.”
“This time,” Ned shot a halfhearted smile back at Peter. “What happens when she does? When any of the professors do?”
“They won’t,” Peter replied obstinately. “Dude, I’ve got it all under control. We’ve been at school for two years now, if my system didn’t work I would’ve messed up by now.”
“But—“
“But I haven’t,” Peter pushed open the doors that led into the sunlit streets of downtown Manhattan. “Ned. Buddy. Pal. It’s sunny out, we’re almost done with the semester, let’s just have a good time.”
Ned fixed him with a flat look and a raised eyebrow, something Peter had affectionately dubbed the “Ned Classic” or less affectionately, the “Aunt May Lite.” Either way, the meaning was clear. Both his aunt and his best friend disapproved of his lax attitude toward balancing his life as an undercover vigilante and his life as a full time student.
“Nope,” Peter deflected, walking backwards so he was facing Ned, hopping as he waved his finger in mock disapproval. “Don’t give me that look! This is the ultimate summer of Ned and Peter. We have that sick internship with Dr. Cho, and this is the first time since sophomore year of high school— of high school, Ned— that we’re both single.”
“Oh?” Ned raised his eyebrows. “So we’re finally done being in denial about how you and MJ are just ‘on a break’?”
Peter opened his mouth to argue before whipping around so he had his back to Ned.
“Low blow, dude!” Peter called over his shoulder.
“Well, it’s true!” Ned laughed. “What’s it been, five months since you guys ended things? Just the other week you were convincing me that her going dates was actually all part of some elaborate plan of hers to make you jealous even though she’s the one that broke up with you.”
Peter gave a half-hearted kick at the ground as he and Ned fell in step as they rounded the corner toward school housing complex.
“Okay, it was, first of all it was mutual,” Peter said. “And second, hey stop laughing, second of all it totally could have been— Ned I mean it stop laughing at me.”
“Whatever, dude,” Ned grinned. “I’m glad you’re ready to move on but uh, actually about us both being single—“
“Shut up,” Peter whined, stopping in front of the doors to the dorm so he and Ned were face to face. “Don’t tell me you’re seeing Betty again, you guys are more on and off than Aunt May and Happy,” he added with an eye roll.
“What can I tell you, Peter,” Ned sighed as he spread his arms and walked backward toward the dorm entrance. “The heart wants what it wants.”
Peter made a gagging sound. “Yeah? Well my heart wants to throw up.”
“We always find our way back to each other, Peter!” Ned called from the lobby doors. “It was meant to be!”
“Sure,” Peter called back. “Meant to be a pain in my ass!”
“Dude are you coming in or what?” Ned held the door of the building open as he went to walk in. They both lived in the same complex, though Ned had been lucky enough to get a room on the 2nd floor while Peter had opted for a room on the top floor, for maximum swingability to and from the window when the situation required. “I finally got Joker on Smash and I’m dying to try him out.”
“Uh, no,” Peter rubbed the back of his neck as he thought of an excuse to say no. “Aunt May is coming over for dinner tonight so I, uh, need to get some stuff from the...store.”
Peter winced as he heard the lie in his own voice, sure Ned would hear it too. He knew he was being petty, that he should be happy Ned was back on with Betty after all they’d been through together, and yet he couldn’t help but feel a stab of jealousy making him want to put distance between him and Ned for the moment.
“Okay,” Ned raised his eyebrows, clearly not convinced, but willing to let it pass without prying for now. “But you can’t put off getting your ass kicked forever!”
Peter watched has the door closed behind Ned and he shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed.
“Yeah,” he muttered as he walked away. “Sure can’t.”
Peter absentmindedly headed toward the corner store, it hadn’t been a lie that May was coming over that night for dinner, but he didn’t need anything in the slightest. On the contrary, he was overprepared back in his apartment. Peter’s social life since his breakup had been...lacking, to say the least. Having May come over for dinner was the highlight of his social calendar for the past nearly half a year other than playing Smash Ultimate in Ned’s room, crying about MJ in Ned’s room, swearing off girls forever in Ned’s room, swearing girls back on in Ned’s room; it painted a pretty sad picture. If not for his nightly rounds as Spider-Man and going to class and labs, Peter would rarely have left the dorm apartment complex.
He ambled into the corner store and nodded hello to the guy behind the counter, who grunted at him briefly before turning back to the news.
“—three successors left behind in Cleveland, sporadically seen as they’ve been training with controversial local vigilante in supposed preparation for this, her exit from the city for reasons and to a location as of yet unknown. More on this story here at—“
“Hey!” The guy behind the counter grunted. Peter stared at him and wondered if grunting was the only way he knew how to communicate. “Watch the news on your own dime. Buy something or leave.”
“Yeah, okay, sorry,” Peter held up his hands in surrender as he backed out of the store. “My bad, dude.”
The guy grunted again and turned back toward the TV.
Peter figured he’d stalled long enough and could head back to his apartment and clean up a bit before May came over. Or, at the very least pick up whatever was in the living/dining/kitchen area and shove it into his room. And probably clean up the bathroom, he wasn’t sure if he was low on soap or not. Maybe he should have picked some up at the store?
Before he could decide whether or not to turn back, Peter felt his phone going off in his pocket. He bit back the instinctual hope that it was MJ calling to say she’d made a mistake and wanted to get back together. It was Aunt May.
“Hey, May, what’s up?”
“Peter!” May’s voice crackled through the phone and Peter’s heart lurched. He hadn’t seen his Aunt in months, since the holidays, he missed her more than anything. “I’m so sorry, sweetie, I have to cancel tonight I can’t make it.”
Peter stopped dead in his tracks. “What do you mean?”
“I know, I know, I’m the worst,” May said, and now Peter heard bustling and shouting in the background. She was still at work. “I thought it would be fine but we just had a major donor for the fundraiser drop out and we had a mixup with a caterers so—”
“It’s fine, May,” Peter swallowed thickly. “It’s no big deal, it’s— it’s good for me, actually. Yeah, uh, I actually have...a thing. Yeah a thing I should probably go to, tonight, so, it’s fine. It’s more than fine it’s super okay.”
“Oh, great!” May said distractedly. “Wait, no, put that over there. Over there! Never mind, just let me do it. I have to go, Peter, I love you!”
“I—“ the line beeped and Peter stared at his lock screen and sighed. “Love you too.”
Despite his best efforts, Peter felt irrational tears prickling. The heat of them pressed behind his eyes and he blinked them away as fast as they’d formed, feeling idiotic. He was twenty-one years old, he didn’t need to become an emotional wreck just because his aunt cancelled dinner plans on him.
But before he could really dig his teeth into a good wallow session, Peter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end in an all-too-familiar sensation.
He was in the suit and swinging toward midtown when the screams started.
Something whizzed past his ear as he landed on top of a fire escape, the Hudson in the distance, he was somewhere between Greenwich and Chelsea. Down below, he could see people clutching their heads and they ducked and ran for shelter.
“What is going on?” Peter muttered. Suddenly, the fire escape creaked as something landed across from Peter.
Something ugly.
It was a bird, mostly. A very, very big bird, had he been standing rather than crouching it would have come up to about his chest. It’s body was metal, intricate feathers and deadly sharp talons that looked like they could rip him to shreds if he found himself on the wrong side of them. The worst part, however, was the head. It wasn’t the head of any bird he knew, or any bird at all. It was the head of a woman. The face was generic, plated metal with sharp shreds jutting from the scalp and folding down the back in a dangerous approximation of hair. The nose was sharp and crooked. The head turned sharply, jerkily to face Peter. The chin plate dropped down, it’s metal lips parting to reveal a toothless, empty grimace. A clicking sound echoed from somewhere within its body, almost as if it were laughing at him.
“Um, hello,” Peter said slowly. He raised his hands. “Listen. You seem nice. How about this, I won’t kill you as long as you don’t kill me?”
The clicking stopped.
“Awesome, now, please tell me you’re not planning on killing any of these nice people down there and then we can totally be friends.”
The bird let out an ear splitting shriek before spreading its wings and dive bombing the crowd below. From above him, Peter heard more screams echo back and he watched as four more lady-birds followed the lead of the first.
“Great,” Peter sighed as he aimed a web at the building across the street and swung down after the birds. “Now it's a party, huh?”
Peter stuck his feet straight out in front of him and braced for impact as he kicked one of the birds out of their flight formation. It screamed, sounding eerily human.
“Awesome, I hate that,” Peter quipped, grimacing as he shot another web to keep up his momentum.
He swung down where the first bird was chasing the last of the straggling civilians as they ran to seek cover.
“Nope, not gonna do that,” He shot a web at the birds wings and watched as it dropped like a stone to the cement below, cracking the pavement as it tried to cut itself free with its talons. Two of the other birds broke formation and flew toward him as he landed next to the downed bird. He shot a web at both, dropping the first but the third one swiped its wing at the projectile and sliced Peter’s webbing clean in two.
“Yikes,” Peter jumped to the side and rolled to dodge the bird still making a beeline toward him. “Someone’s been watching and learning, huh?”
As he shot a web and swung up he saw the first bird he’d webbed break free and join the two that hadn’t come after him. He watched as they sped off the way he’d come, right toward Washington Square Park.
“Oh no, nope, no,” Peter panickedly swung after them, checking to make sure the bird that had attacked him and the second one he’d webbed were both coming after him as he chased their comrades and not splitting up to terrorize the rest of the neighborhood. “Oh good, still coming to kill me. Awesome. Just the way I like it. I have a better idea, actually.”
He shot his next web at the closest bird ahead of him and wrapped his end around his forearm and pulled, dropping to the ground to dig his heels in.
“Come on, come on,” Peter muttered. “Woah there, doggie.”
The bird screamed and twisted as it tried to keep flying toward the white arch of Washington Square Park in the distance. The earth beneath Peter’s feet began to pile up in front of him as his feet dragged along the ground. The two birds behind him shot forward with twin screams to join their sisters diving at screaming park goers as they fled the scene.
“Okay,” Peter gritted his teeth. “Change of plans.”
He gave one final yank as he jumped up. Just as he’d hoped, the bird shot forward toward the arch.
“Yes! One way ticket to— ow, shit!” The momentum from the bird yanked his arm forward. “Please leave my arm in my socket!”
The bird ignored him.
Peter untangled his arm as he dangled behind the stupid thing.
“I think this is my stop!” He called as he dropped and rolled to the ground just in front of the arch where the five bird-ladies were circling the columns. “What are you guys doing?”
From behind him, Peter heard sirens suddenly rounding the corner toward him and watched as a squad of NYPD vehicles poured onto the scene followed closely by a news van.
“Great,” Peter threw his hands up. “It wouldn’t be a real story if the Daily Bugle didn’t drag my name through the mud.”
Cops began pouring out of their cars, guns toward the arch. Peter had a sudden flash of the two birds attacking him from earlier right after he’d shot their sister with a web.
“Uh, excuse me officers!” Peter called. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea!”
The police promptly ignored him and fired off warning shots at the metal birds. Three of them peeled off, screaming toward the cop cars.
“Oh shit, shit, shit,” Peter launched himself forward, trying to intervene between the birds and the police. He shot a web at the furthest bird over the other two, then swung beneath them and kicked up back over pulling tight. The birds fell to the ground as they struggled to free themselves, and Peter hopped up on the hood of the nearest cop car.
“Hey uh, officers,” Peter said. “So, they don’t really like being shot at and I’m worried they’re gonna do more damage to you than the other way around.”
The officer standing at the drivers side of the car Peter was perched on lowered his gun and glared at him.
“Yeah, kid? And just what are we supposed to do about this then, just leave it up to you?”
“You know, sir, that sounds like a really excellent idea actually,” Peter glanced behind him quickly, the birds on the ground were almost loose. “And while you’re at it, you might wanna let the mayor know he’s gonna need to really boost his anti-pigeon spike funding in the upcoming fiscal year!”
Peter leapt over the downed birds as he shot them with a web and used the momentum of his jump to launch them away from the police as far as possible before they broke free completely. He ran toward the Washington arch where the other birds were still circling as the other three followed behind.
From up close, Peter could see the occasional flash of silver between the birds and the archway, but before he could make out what was going on, a scream from behind him made him duck just in time for the three birds to swoop over his head, their razor talons much closer to Peter than he would have preferred.
“Ladies,” Peter gasped, grabbing the back of his neck as he straightened up. “There’s enough of me to go around, okay?”
The three birds screamed at him and began circling over his head.
“Buy me dinner first?” Peter joked weakly. He shot a web at the top of the arch and launched himself toward the top of the monument, legs aimed to collide with the wing of one of the birds. He was so focused trying to knock its wing off that he failed to notice one of the other two birds on their route around the arch slicing its metal wing through Peter’s web. It happened so fast, he desperately shot up again to try and slow his fall, but before he could find purchase he slammed back-first onto the ground, the whiplash smacking his skull.
Peter groaned and rolled into his side. He heard shouting in the distance, but his ribs ached as he struggled to catch his breath and his ears rang as his vision swam.
“—of the way!”
“What,” Peter groaned as he sat up, forcing air in and out of his lungs.
Out of the top of his periphery, motion made Peter turn just in time to see the world around him tilting. Or, as it seemed, just the top of the arch. It clicked in his mind, suddenly, what the birds had been doing while circling the columns. They had been slowly slicing through the stone with their wings. This realization came too late, however, for Peter to do anything but raise his arms over his face and squeeze his eyes shut as he braced for impact and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
But the impact never came.
Peter blinked, and slowly moved his arms from in front of his face as looked up at the sky which seemed to be...glowing?
“I told you,” a voice from behind him came as Peter whipped his head around. “To get out of the way.”
Peter stared at the figure suddenly standing behind him. She was wearing a suit like his, only hers was white with varying blue accents. Navy blue went up to her waist, while a lighter, subdued blue went up her chest and cut off below the collarbone. The underside of her arms was the same lighter blue, along with a ring that outlined her eye lenses which were shaped similarly to the ones on Peter’s Spider-Man suit. The upper half of her chest, arms, and face were all white. Around her waist sat a navy blue utility belt with lighter blue accents, the back of which seemed to be some sort of fanny-pack. She also wore a vest, lighter blue on the bottom and white on the top to match the suit below, and attached to the back was a white hood with a lighter blue inner lining.
Her arms were held out, elbows crooked upward and fingers splayed as if she were holding up the sky which, Peter supposed, she sort of was. Surrounding them was a dome of blue, crackling energy forming a kind of force field barrier between the two of them and the fallen arch.
The fallen arch. Which was, for the record Peter had forgotten all about in his shock, only a couple feet above his head.
“Well?” The blue and white clad figure demanded, strain in her voice beginning to show. The maintenance of the forcefield seemed to be affecting her now. “Are you going to keep staring at me like a codfish or are you going to pick your jaw up from the ground and slip it back under your mask, reattach it to your skull, and help me get rid of these harpies?”
Peter’s hand instinctively flew to his chin to make sure his mask still covered his mouth. It did.
“Harpies?” He echoed, still in shock.
“Yes, harpies,” the girl repeated slowly as if Peter were a child. “Half bird, half woman, harpies. Ever picked up a book before?
“Is that why they call annoying women harpies?” Peter blurted out. “Because of how annoying their scream is, y'know? Like, shrill?”
The other suited figure tilted her head to the side and stared at Peter a moment. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Probably nothing good.
“As much as I would love to discuss the deeper mythology behind all the very fun nicknames men have given women over the years, we kind of have bigger problems to deal with right now.”
“Okay, drop the forcefield then”
“Drop it? If I drop it are you going to be ready?”
Peter scoffed. “Of course. I’m always ready.”
The girl snorted. “You weren’t ready when the arch started to fall on you, even though I warned you to get out of the way.”
“Yeah, convenient timing by the way,” Peter narrowed his eyes. “I’ve been fighting these harpies or whatever they’re called for a while now, how come you showed up late to the fight if you’re supposedly here to help, huh?”
“What can I say,” the girl drawled sarcastically. “I’m new in town. Now, I don’t know how much longer I can hold this, so can you please get ready to roll out of the way and attack these metal she-demons?”
“I’m always ready,” Peter crouched by the edge of the forcefield, ready to duck and roll. “What do I call you?”
“What?”
“Like, I’m Spider-Man. What do I call you?”
“I know who you are,” the girl said, then hesitated. “I’m Blue Jay.”
The name sounded faint bells in the back of Peter’s head, but he pushed it aside for now.
“On the count of three?” He asked.
“One,” Blue Jay tensed, ready to bolt. “Two, and...three!”
Peter rolled out from under the falling debris and watched as Blue Jay cleared the falling arch with ease. Free of the force field, Peter saw that the harpies were circling above the police squadron, occasionally diving to slice at them with wings and talons as they screamed and shrieked.
Blue Jay stood at the ready next to him, hands crackling with blue energy, and off in the distance, he saw the cameras of the Daily Bugle rolling and no doubt painting the worst picture of the situation possible. He could see the headlines now, “Spider-Man: Needs Help To Get The Job Done,” or even better, “Useless Spider-Man Gets Shown Up By Newcomer.” Peter felt a wave of resentment build up inside his chest.
“Thanks for your help, but you can go now,” He blurted out.
“Excuse me?” Blue Jay whipped around to face him, lowering her hands to her side. “I can go now? I’m here to help you.”
“Yeah, well I don’t need help,” Peter snapped. “I can handle this myself.
“Oh yeah?” Blue Jay challenged. “Like you were handling it before I just saved your sorry ass?”
“I would’ve figured something out.”
“Well from my perspective it didn’t look like it,” she said. “I’m here now, in New York, and I’m not going anywhere. So I really think it would be beneficial to the both of us to work together.”
“Work together?” Peter had a sudden flash of Tony on the ground of a foreign world, dying at his feet. “I work alone.”
“Oh yeah? And how’s that working out for you?”
“Pretty well, actually,” Peter purposefully avoided thinking about the conversation he’d had with Ned that morning about overworking himself as Spider-Man. “I can handle it.”
“But you don’t have to,” Blue Jay exclaimed. “I can help you.”
“I don’t need help, okay? And I don’t need you. Maybe you need my help but I definitely don’t need yours.”
Energy crackled from Blue Jay’s fingertips up her arms, jumped like little bolts of lighting, and suddenly the air around Peter smelled of ozone.
“You think I need your help?” She said softly. Before Peter could respond, she reached into the fanny pack pocket on her utility belt and pulled out a small, silver ball. She closed her fist around it for a moment as her hand illuminated as if from within, then in one fluid motion, she tossed it up into the air where it crackled and sent out five bolts of blue lightning-like energy in the direction of the harpies, lighting up the sky in the early evening dusk like lightning on a stormy night.
The electricity from the blast must have shorted out the metal harpies inner mechanics, because each of them dropped like stones to the ground below and gave a few final twitches before stilling and screeching no more.
Blue Jay and Spider-Man locked eyes.
“Now,” she said softly, dangerously so. “What was your plan for dealing with that, again?”
Peter clenched his jaw and said nothing.
“Thought so,” Blue Jay pulled a small, metal cylinder from a loop on her belt, and with a spin it elongated into a staff taller than she was. “Til next time.”
With that, she took a running start and vaulted to the top of the nearest building until she disappeared from Peter’s view over the rooftops.
He let out a sigh as the muscles in his body started to unclench, he hadn’t realized how tense he was. From behind him, a small crowd had formed at the edge of the clearing, the police holding them back now that their focus was off the harpies. A few officers appeared to have been dispatched to investigate their metal bodies, but the only thing Peter cared about at the moment was collapsing into bed and sleeping through the entire next day which was, thankfully, Saturday. He didn’t think he could have gone to class if his life depended on it.
“Spider-Man! Spider-Man!” Reporters swarmed at the edges of the police barricade as Peter headed back toward lower Manhattan. “What were these? Where did they come from? When did you get a partner?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know anything about them,” Peter responded without stopping. “And I don’t have a partner!”
With that, he shot a web to the top of the nearest building, and swung as far from Washington Square Park as possible, leaving its ruins behind him.
If it was late enough at night and dark enough, Peter would simply have swung up to his window and climbed in that way. Unfortunately, it was still light enough out that he would have to go the normal way, so when he’d made it about a block away from the dorm, he ducked into an alley to change back into his regular clothes. Peter barely acknowledged his surroundings as he trudged through the lobby and made his way to the elevator.
As he stepped off on his floor however, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
“Not again,” he muttered.
Slowly, he crept to the corner that led to his hallway and peered down.
Someone was trying to break into his room.