Black Light

The next day the two of you were splattered across every news outlet in town, every newspaper had a photo of the crumbling building on the front, often accompanied by a smaller, blurry photo of the Green Goblin carrying Black Light on his glider, dramatically illuminated by the spotlights of the news crews. You scanned the various headlines displayed on the newsstand, holding an umbrella over your head to protect from the heavy downpour while you waited for Peter. It hadn't stopped raining once since last night.

GREEN GOBLIN RESURRECTED

THE NEW BONNIE AND CLYDE? BLACK LIGHT AND THE GOBLIN

THE NEW VILLAINS IN TOWN

BLACK LIGHT BRINGS BACK GOBLIN, BRINGS DOWN BUILDING

You were nervous from having this much attention on you, but it was to be expected from destroying a building and being seen with a reincarnation of one of the city's most feared and unpredictable villains—that everyone thought had died. Which was true, but the general public didn't know the details.

Peter appeared by your side, taking your hand in his. “Hey.”

“Peter!” You leaned up and kissed his cheek.

He was staring at the papers on the newsstand now too, your usually playful or inquisitive Peter gone, replaced by unusually serious Peter, a Peter you hadn't yet seen.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, 'm fine. Just worried about Harry.”

“Why? Did something happen?”

The two of you began walking to the restaurant you'd agreed upon for dinner.

He shook his head. “I need to figure it out first before I talk about it.”

“I can help you figure it out, Pete...” You were staring at him, hoping he would open up. He looked at you, eyes flicking between both of yours, and he sighed.

“I think he's getting involved with some bad stuff.”

“What, like... Drugs?”

Peter shook his head. “No, I... He's had some drug problems before. He's recovering right now but... This is different. He...” Peter huffed out a breath and looked up towards the sky. “I don't want to talk about it right now. Let's just have fun, okay? I've been wanting to see you,” he said, smiling at you.

You could see he was upset and worried still, and squeezed his hand in an attempt to reassure him. “How about, after dinner, we go to the arcade and spend a bunch of money on games and win cheap shitty prizes for each other?”

Peter smiled gratefully. “That sounds perfect.”

It wasn't until sometime after dinner while you were in the arcade together that Peter started to noticeably cheer up, bouncing from game to game. Ski-ball, Whack-a-Mole, racing games, pinball, even a vintage Pac-Man machine. You were a bit surprised at how well Peter was doing with the more physical games, like Ski-ball and Whack-a-Mole, where he earned perfect scores. He had never struck you as the most coordinated type. Of course, you failed miserably on Whack-A-Mole, underachieving out of fear of destroying the machine if you hit it too hard, and met his perfect score at Ski-Ball with the same, ribbons of tickets flying out of the slot into a pile at your feet.

At the end of the night when you both went to claim a prize as a gift for the other person, Peter chose the largest most obnoxious stuffed animal, and a small bright yellow rubber robot keychain with long stretchy arms to clip onto things.

“This robot will bring you great luck in all of your ventures. Keep it close and on your person at all times,” he said with a mock-serious voice as he handed the robot to you as if he was giving you a key to the nations nukes. “And this is just because it's obnoxious and huge,” he split into a grin as he handed over the large stuffed sheep.

You chose for him a small black light lava lamp and a coffee mug with the poop emoji on it.

“For decoration and because you're a piece of shit,” you teased as you picked them out. He laughed, smiling as the tired man behind the counter handed them over.

You took a taxi home, the giant stuffed sheep taking up a whole seat in the back.

“Do you wanna stay over again?” you asked when the cab arrived at your home.

“I have a big test tomorrow, I should spend the rest of the night studying and get some sleep. Next time?”

You nodded. “Next time,” and kissed him goodnight.

You lumbered inside with your prize for Peter, dragging it into the elevator and down the hall all the way to your apartment, before putting it on the floor beside your desk in your room. You put your phone on your desk and flopped face first onto your bed, breathing in the fresh clean smell of your comforter and the comforting smell of your room.

In your head the events of the previous night played over, the smashing, the fire, the small explosions, Harry's high cackling as the Goblin.

It's the best way to take care of Spider-Man, you reasoned.

Your conscience whispered back. He's Peter's friend, you're putting them both in danger.

It's my job, it's important...

You sighed loudly, rolling onto your back. The rain outside grew heavier, mirroring your troubled thoughts.

Peter's important, too, and then, But I barely know him, and we aren't that serious...

Peter is still important.

“Ugh!” You sat up, kicking off your shoes and peeling off your clothes as you made your way over to your closet. You grabbed out the box that contained your super-suit and your experimental tech, changing quickly. Your phone buzzed as you clipped your hood to the mask in front of the mirror leaning against your wall. You took a deep breath, picking up your phone and opening the text.

It just said Daredevil, downtown A.I.M. office. Your phone buzzed again as a second message came in, just the word NOW.

You left out your window, the rain rolling off your suit as you swung away from home.

You arrived at the office building, entering through the rooftop, and found nobody. The front desk was empty, the security room unmanned. You scanned the security feed which showed hallways, labs, rooms of cubicles, all dark and empty. Then—a hallway filled with unconscious guards. The stairway, too, all on the lower floors, littered with unconscious security guards.

And there, on the lowest right hand monitor, Daredevil, fighting his way down a hallway to the basement door. You ran, rushing to the stairwell. You started to run down the steps, and stopped. He'd be through the door by the time you go there if you went this way. Elevator? Still too slow.

You looked over the edge of the railing—the stairs went down as far as you could see. You swallowed, closed your eyes a moment, and jumped over the railing, landing on the next flight down. Again, you jumped over the railing landing on the next flight, and again, and again, quickly—and quite loudly—making your way down.

You reached the ground floor, carefully stepping over the unconscious bodies into the lobby, and ran straight for the door to the basement through a number of offices. The door was wide open, a man sprawled across the entrance, arm bent in a bad direction. You stepped over him, boot making a soft thump on the floor on the other side. The stairs on the other side of the door were metal, and went down into complete darkness. Even with the night vision filter of the lenses in your mask, you could barely see the bottom. You stepped quietly down the stairway, hand lightly brushing the wall beside you to keep you oriented and steady. You could hear distant fighting, and as you reached the bottom of the steep staircase, you had to step over another body. After six feet, two more, another five feet and then another body. There was a sharp ninety degree turn where yet another man sat, unconscious, leaning against the corner.

You stepped over his legs as you heard the sound of someone dropping heavily to the floor, and heavy breathing. At the end of the hall was a door, and now in front of the door you could see the silhouette of Daredevil, hands running over the surface softly, examining.

You stopped, feet shoulder width apart, hands clenched into fists. They started to glow, humming, and Daredevil slowly turned around.

“I was hoping we wouldn't have to fight again,” he said, still as a statue, cautious.

“I was hoping you got the hint last time we met,” your voice was strong. You started walking towards him.

He braced for impact, and dodged your fist when you swung for his head. He swung at your stomach, you jumped back, spinning into a kick towards his knees. He grabbed your leg easily and yanked you off your feet, you fell back, the concrete floor knocking the air out of you. He went to hit you and knock your out while you were down but you rolled out of the way, and struggled back to your feet. In the corner of your eye you saw a limb swing towards you—it looked so slow, you could easily stop it, but...

You woke in a white room, mask off, hood down, gloves and shoes off. You were on a cold leather table, head on a support, aching.

“No concussion, so she'll-”

“She's awake.”

You sighed through your nose and whimpered at the pain in your chest, looking around.

“Ah-ah-ah, no, don't move, Y/n, you're quite hurt.”

Your eyes found the face of a strange woman in a white coat—a doctor, you guessed.

“Where...”

“You're back at the A.I.M. labs. You have some broken ribs and possibly a head injury, we're just waiting on...”

You zoned out. You'd lost to Daredevil. He'd won. You'd let him win, you could have stopped him easily, but you... Why had you let him win?

I didn't care, why didn't I care? I needed to win, I should have won, I wanted to win... I didn't care if I lost, but I wanted... I didn't want to win...

“Good news, no concussion. No head injury at all, in fact, and your spine looks fine. You might be sore for a bit, but you should be fine long-term. Your bruised ribs should heal within three to six weeks, we recommend you not strain yourself...”

“I can't wait that long.”

“Sorry?”

“I can't wait that long for my ribs, that's too long.”

“That's how long it takes.”

You groaned, and winced again at the strong pain in your ribs. “I don't even remember getting hit in the ribs.”

You heard a door swung open.

“Ah, Miss Y/l/n, Miss Y/l/n! Is she alright, Doctor?”

“She'll be fine within a few weeks, just a pair of broken ribs.”

You closed your eyes, concentrating on breathing.

“...May I have a few moments alone, Doctor?”

“Yes, Mr. Adams.” You heard the door open and close again.

“Miss Y/l/n.”

You opened your eyes and saw Mr. Adams looking at you, eyes dark, face serious.

“I am very disappointed in your work tonight. This should not have happened.”

You swallowed, unable to look away or move much.

“Daredevil should not have beaten you. You are lucky he wasn't able to get through the door, otherwise you may be dead now.”

You took a sharp breath in, and let out a soft cry at your ribs.

“This cannot happen again. If you lose another fight against one of our heroes... There will be...” His hand reached out, touching lightly the spot on your ribs where the pain was coming from. “Consequences.” He pressed down, slow but firmly.

You cried out, your yelp short and quiet from lack of air. Tears welled up in your eyes and your screwed them shut, whole body tensing.

“Not just for yourself, but for your friends. Stacy, Peter... Do they know who you really are?”

You shook your head, eyes still screwed shut, taking shallow quick breaths through your nose.

“You understand?”

You nodded, his hand leaving your ribs.

“Good. Now tell me what you were doing with Green Goblin the other night.”

You couldn't do more than whisper. “Harry... Avenge his dad... Friends with Peter... Black Light convinced him...” you had to stop to breathe. “I convinced him to take up his mantle... Help him take down Spider-Man...”

“Does he know who you really are?”

You shook your head.

“Keep it that way.”

You nodded.

“We may be paying you, but I want to be very clear. We own Black Light. She is a tool for us. Since you are Black Light, we own you. You are our tool. You have a brilliant mind, Y/l/n. Your inventions are ingenious. But we don't need that part of your skills, we need you to be violent. We need you to be ready to kill for us, do you understand? A.I.M.'s mission grows more high stakes every day. We need our roadblocks cleared. We need you to clear them. Daredevil, Spider-Man, we may even need you to clear out the Avengers. We don't have many people with your kinds of skills among our ranks, unfortunately, so the burden falls to you... Understood?”

You nodded again, the words we own you echoing in your head, bouncing off of the threats to Stacy, to Peter.

“As of now you are dropping out of school. You will train full-time with A.I.M., clearly you need it.”

You swallowed. “People will ask why I'm not in school-”

“It'll be taken care of. You can go back once you've been trained more sufficiently. Understood?”

“...I understand.” You were staring at the ceiling now.

“Very good. Rest up, Black Light. The doctor will be sending you home soon, I imagine.”

Mr. Adams left, and you continued to stare at the ceiling.

What had you gotten yourself into?