"That's mine!"
"No, it is not! It's my toy!"
The sounds of small children bickering filled the early morning air, waking up anyone in the general vicinity. A six year old Peter Parker and a five year old (Y/N) (Y/L/N) sat next to the mahogany coffee table, squabbling over a pair of glassy marbles. Little (Y/N) pouted, sticking her lip out as she glared at her friend.
It was a simple argument. Peter and (Y/N) had both brought a little bag of marbles. By some sort of coincidence, each bag contained a matching marble. It was about the size of (Y/N)'s favorite candy, made of clear glass that had been tinted blue. Little bubbles could be seen floating through the material. It had to be (Y/N)'s favorite toy.
Thus came the issue: it was also Peter's favorite toy, and there were two of them. Neither of the children could tell which one was theirs. Unlike other children, who simply would have taken one and forgotten all about it, (Y/N) and Peter insisted on keeping their own marble. The problem: they were exactly identical, and the two children were incredibly stubborn. They weren't about to let the other win.
"Pete! It's my marble!" (Y/N) exclaimed, pointing to the glass orb that she thought was hers. "That one's yours!"
"No, it's not, (N/N)! That one is mine, and this one is yours! You can't have my marble!"
"But it's not yours!"
"It is!"
"No!"
"You can't have it!"
"Well, if I can't have it, you can't have it!"
"Yes, I can!"
"If you're going to be like that, I won't even talk to you any more."
"And I won't talk to you any more!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
***
(Y/N) sat in her chair, her knees propped up on the lip of her desk as she twirled a pencil between her fingers. Her hand shot up into the air quickly.
"(Y/N)?"
"Sin to the power of two times x."
"That is incorrect."
(Y/N) let her hand fall in disappointment, furrowing her eyebrows. In the corner of her eyes, another hand rose into the air. Peter.
"Sin times x. The power of two cancels itself out."
"Correct, Mr. Parker."
(Y/N) pursed her lips and looked back to her paper, scribbling down a few notes. She saw Ned, Peter's closest friend, give him a high five and a huge smile. Just like she always did, she ignored them. A dull ache bit into her stomach.
It was hard, watching Ned and Peter grow closer and closer as friends. (Y/N) couldn't help but think that he was slowly taking her place.
Peter and (Y/N) hadn't spoken in nearly nine years, and she was planning on keeping it that way. Just like she had been when she was five, she was incredibly stubborn. (Y/N) knew how to hold a grudge like nobody else could.
And it was even harder because Ned was also a close friend of (Y/N)'s, and where Ned went, Peter generally went. There wasn't much of a chance for her to hang out with him because of that. (Y/N) wasn't planning on interacting with Peter any more than she had to.
It wasn't like it had been a big argument. It was just a little dispute between a pair of preschoolers over some mixed-up marbles. But it had been a big deal for both (Y/N) and Peter, back wen that was the biggest thing they ever had to deal with. Now, however, (Y/N) had actual problems to deal with.
That was her biggest secret: she wasn't a normal high school student any more than she was male, which is to say, not at all. In fact, she was considering dropping out of school altogether to deal with her more pressing challenges.
As the superhero Riptide, (Y/N) was pretty much responsible for taking care of the little people of the Queens area. With her powers- control over water, if that wasn't made obvious by the name- she fought crime and protected the citizens. This didn't leave much time for schoolwork and other stuff like that. Her life was full of insanity and violence, and she kind of liked it.
***
(Y/N) faced off against a pair of men on a rooftop, her hands held up in front of her face. Under the half-mask that she always used, her lips were twisted into a sneer. Behind her infrared assault glasses, her eyes were cold. Just as cold as they always were.
This was, in itself, an interesting situation. The criminals hadn't been the culprits of any major crimes, just a few hit and runs involving small businesses. Any bystanders stated that no casualties had been reported and the two men hadn't even been carrying weapons. The only things they had stolen had been small; one time it had been the cash out of a register at Delmar's, another it had been a roadside display of paintings that had been done by a street artist. None of the stolen property had been particularly valuable, either. The only reason (Y/N) had decided to pursue the case was that the people of Queens felt threatened and didn't want to lose any of their posessions.
But this confrontation was going much worse than (Y/N) had expected. For starters, the men were armed. Each carried a handgun and several other assorted weapons. They were much more experienced than they had seemed, too, which was really annoying. Both were relatively proficient in hand-to-hand and MMA. And the worst part? They seemed to have a mission involving the capture and possible demise of (Y/N).
"Back it up and leave me alone," (Y/N) snapped. Her voice was unrecognizeable through the mask, making it harder for them to track her. "That's your last warning. After that, I won't hold back."
"I don't think we need to be too worried about that," one of the men said. His partner smirked and nodded.
"A little girl playing hero isn't exactly on our radar as a dangerous threat."
"Then why are you after me? If I'm not on your radar, you could just leave me alone. Simple as that."
"Yeah, 'fraid not. Our job is to grab you and take you back to our place, and that's what we're gonna do. No questions asked. It would really just be easier for you to come with us willingly."
"And why would I do that?"
The first speaker shrugged nonchalantly. "Less blood loss? Save us some time? Not as messy as the alternative? You choose, kid. We don't care."
"But the hard way would definitely be more enjoyable."
(Y/N) scoffed. "Yeah. For me."
"You talk a big game. What are you actually made of?"
"You're about to find out."
The two men shared a knowing look, matching smiles on their faces. Their dark sunglasses glinted in the early evening light, giving them an aura of mystery. In unison, they turned back to (Y/N).
"Are we?" One asked.
(Y/N) furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to speak again, but she was cut off by a glancing blow to the back of her skull. Cursing internally at being set up, she turned to face her attacker. Before she could react, a sharp pain pinched her stomach. (Y/N) looked down, her eyes going wide when she saw the two-pronged device that had been stabbed into her gut. A hand, gloved in black, was holding the handle. She watched in horror as the man's pointer finger moved to press down on a red button, sending jolts of electricity through her body. (Y/N) screamed as volts rushed through her systems, pain becoming all she felt.
(Y/N) buckled, her vision dimming rapidly until she ceased to see at all.
***
Unbeknownst to the three men on the rooftop, a certain teenage hero had been watching the proceeds with narrow eyes. And, when he saw Riptide crumple to the ground after releasing a scream that would give him nightmares for weeks, Peter couldn't help it. He had to follow the criminals and see what was going on. He had to rescue his coworker.
Riptide and Peter had always had a bit of a rivalry. It was nothing if not friendly, but still. They were constantly competing to be the top dog, the one that the citizens of Queens would look to in a crisis. Neither of the heroes ever intentionally sabatoged or interacted with the other, but it was known on both sides that they needed to stay within their bounds.
That was why Peter was slightly hesitant to attempt a rescue mission. Would that be seen as enroaching on Riptide's territory? He didn't know. He didn't even know if it would be welcomed or not, but he couldn't risk it. Even at a glance, it was obvious that the men- whoever they were- were dangerous. Peter wouldn't put it past them to kill Riptide while she was in their possession.
Peter swung down from the rooftop and followed the group at a distance, wincing at how one of the criminals was carrying Riptide over his shoulder. That couldn't have been comfortable, especially because of her recently obtained injury. The girl hung, completely lifeless, her head drooping down and her arms tied above her head with cruel knots.
The men loaded her into the back of a van, tossing her in as if she was a sack of books or a throw rug. One of them got in with her and closed the double doors, but Peter could still see the barrels of a shotgun poking out before they were sealed shut completely. His breath caught in his throat; these guys were serious. They were after Riptide for some reason other than ransom.
Peter waited until the van had pulled out of the alley before hopping off of his perch, swinging through the city on his webs. He moved at a quick pace but made sure to stay a safe distance behind them to make sure they didn't notice him. If he was seen, there was no knowing what would happen to the helpless girl in the trunk.
The van was only in motion for about ten minutes before the driver parked next to an old warehouse. Peter stopped quickly, landing on the ground behind a car and stumbling to a halt. He wasn't going to leave Riptide in the hands of those men for much longer. There were no boundaries to what they could do to her while she was incapacitated.
But, when Peter ran across the parking lot to confront the men and rescue her, it became obvious that she was in no way helpless. Screams rang through the air, and the van actually started to rock back and forth. When a particularly loud screech was emitted from the car, Peter threw the doors open with his hands up, ready for a fight.
The scene inside was worse than what Peter could have ever imagined. Riptide was sprawled out on the floor, her head directly in front of the open doors. She was being held down by two of the men while the third grabbed at her mask. The parts of her skin that were visible were bruised and cut, and the fact that the men were soaked to the bone provided proof to the theory that Riptide wasn't taking well to her kidnapping.
"Get off of her!" Peter screamed, lashing out with one fist and connecting a web to the chest of the man who was holding Riptide's feet down. He pulled back, sending him sprawling to the concrete, unconscious.
The second man was incapacitated just as quickly as the first. He took a car door to the face and was out like a light.
The third man, however, was much smarter than his two collegues. He had taken the liberty of securing Riptide's hands and feet. Her arms had been pinned underneath her body in a painful manner, keeping her totally immobilized. Her now-bare feet were bound with a scratchy rope and twisted together. There was no way Riptide would be getting out of her situation on her own.
Without a moment of hesitation, the man wrapped an arm around Riptide's neck and jerked her to her feet. She gasped behind her mask as her arms were wrenched around and she was forced to stand. The sound of heavy breathing filled the air.
"Step back or I'll kill her," the man said calmly.
"Okay, okay! Stepping back! Don't... don't hurt her! Put her down!"
The man's lips curved into a wicked grin. "Nah. Don't think I will."
"I'm warning you, man! You don't let her go and we have an issue here. A real issue. Don't touch a hair on her head."
With lightening fast reflexes, the man reached up with his free hand and grabbed a swathe of (h/c) hair. He gathered it in his fists and yanked back, forcing Riptide to bend backwards over his arm. She let out a cry of agony, her hands shaking behind her back, and Peter broke.
In one fluid movement, Peter hurtled into the back of the van and grabbed the man by the neck. He managed to wrestle Riptide out of his grasp, allowing her to go free. The female hero collapsed to the floor, sprawled out and shuddering with silent sobs. Her arms were twisted mercilessly, and it was obvious that she was in a lot of pain.
Peter used a few concise blows to knock the kidnapper senseless and sent him flying out of the van, where he slammed into another car and lay still. He was breathing heavily, trying to recover his sense of being before turning to face Riptide.
In the struggle, her mask had come free slightly. It was hanging onto one side of her face as she struggled fruitlessly against her bonds, and after a particularly sudden jerk, it came free.
Peter was left shocked at the face before him. On the ground in front of his feet, sobbing piteously and trying to free herself, lay none other than (Y/N) (Y/L/N).
(Y/N) yelped when she saw that her mask had fallen off, rolling over to try and face Peter. She didn't know about his identity and had no way of knowing whether or not he could be trusted, and it was easy to see that she was afraid of him.
Without a second thought, Peter reached up and removed his mask. (Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat when she saw him, and the tears welling up in her eyes fell.
"P-peter?"
"(Y/N)?! You're Riptide?!"
"And you... you're Spiderman?!"
"No duh. What are you even doing here? I thought you were- how could you do that to me?"
(Y/N), still immobile on the ground, gaped up at Peter. "I don't- I haven't spoken to you in- Peter, it wasn't my fault! I swear I didn't- I mean- I never-"
The shocked sensation that had spread over Peter's body when he saw (Y/N) on the ground was gone just like that. The second he noticed how beat up and afraid she was, the only thing on his mind was to help her.
Peter stepped towards his former friend carefully and slowly, both of his hands up in a gesture of surrender and trust. He knelt down beside her writhing form, reaching over to place a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm going to get you out of this and help you, okay? Nothing more than that. Can you try and sit up, or should I move over for you?"
"I-I don't know..."
(Y/N) gritted her teeth and forced herself into a sitting position, leaning partially against Peter's shoulder. Her body sagged against his, but he didn't seem to care. In fact, he welcomed her touch.
Peter went to work on the ropes binding (Y/N)'s arms and legs. It didn't take too long, but every time she moved she winced. Something had happened in the back of the van, and it had hurt.
"Are you okay?" Peter asked, carefully helping her turn around.
"I'm fine. Thanks, Peter."
Peter meant to accept (Y/N)'s gratitude and help her to the hospital where she could be treated properly. He did not mean to confess his love for her. Of course, that's what he did. And he may have leaned forwards a bit, staring at her lips. (Y/N) might have met him halfway, her lips meeting his in an explosion of emotional fireworks.
They might have. But I guess we'll never really know.