Full Unedited Summary: When Leah Todd is targeted by Oscorp, she runs to F.E.A.S.T for protection. But life in the city becomes harder day by day as many of the villains locked in the Raft disappear, a new villain calling himself the 'Green Goblin' joins the party and Mayor Norman Osborn places a curfew on the inhabitants of New York. Homeless and alone, Leah teams up with Spider-Man to stop Oscorp and the Green Goblin, all while uncovering her family history and what actually lays hidden in her DNA.
It can also be found on AO3, the original owner and my friend who is allowing me to post a different story on her AO3 gave me permission to post this over here on my account. Kind of like a deal of sorts. Ha!
When the website makes a section for the PS4 game, I'll probably move this over there.
Happy reading and we both hope you enjoy!
A/N: Do please review, I would love to know what you think!
Manhattan, New York
October 1st, 2019
10:22 p.m.
Peter rolled his neck in a circle, awaiting the imminent crack.
He hardly warmed up before throwing on the suit, it was a thing he just didn't do or even thought about doing it before he left, even though MJ constantly reminded him to.
Well, had constantly reminded him.
Peter closed his eyes, and his grip on his mask tightened.
It had been inevitable; when MJ had mentioned a possible job promotion in her field at another agency nearly seven months ago, in March, a mere two months after getting back together, Peter knew that there was a chance she would receive it.
She was the best in the Investigative Reporter field, if there was even one, sticking her nose into other people's business. A knack that she had, quietly literally, a talent for since childhood.
It wasn't a slight against her, she had helped him so many times because she was just doing her job. It had just made her good at what she did.
Another part of him said she had just been promoted, and it would be rather unlikely for them to promote her again so soon after her last one.
Then, when a month went by, MJ had burst into Mick's buzzing with news.
She had been given the promotion, in London.
In another country.
Far away from him.
He had been expecting something close by, or in another state where they could visit each other whenever they wanted. Not a whole 'nother continent!
It had been a hard few days after, both of them trying to figure out what to do. It had been MJ who had suggested it; the two of them breaking up. They couldn't handle a long distance relationship, she knew that much.
He often wondered if she didn't know if she could, or she was very confident in the matter that he couldn't.
They hadn't talked since June, when she had gushed about her new apartment and co-workers and her own office as he listened, so he would never find out the answer.
The last time he had checked, her social media photos had included a woman that appeared in a majority of them, starting two months ago; in MJ's apartment, in her apartment, in front of Big Ben, on the London Eye, in the city's National History Museum.
MJ called her Alix.
Peter didn't have to be told directly what was going on, he could take a guess just by their body language and how they talked about each other in their captions or statuses.
He was happy for her; she seemed so happy. In New York, with everything that went on last year and even the many years before...she deserved happiness.
Her life had been shit, and now one of her best friends was ill and missing and the other one was a superhero who risked his life every day to protect the citizens of New York.
She deserved someone who was, well, normal.
Someone who had not been bitten by a radioactive spider on a field trip when they were 15 and received superpowers because of it.
The last time they had seen each other face to face, the last time they had kissed, she had made him promise to call him with news on Harry and when he got news, to call her straight away and if she needed too, she would fly out there so quickly it was like she hadn't been gone at all.
He sighed and pulled on his mask, jumping off the rooftop of the F.E.A.S.T center and into the darkened streets of New York, the only light source being from still open stores and streetlights.
He blinked, drowning out the sound of the police sirens in the distance as he listened to his police scanner.
That's when a man's voice started to shout angrily from an alleyway below.
Peter wasted no time.
Unafraid of the height, he dived down, eyes narrowing at the situation.
A man dressed in all black was running in the shadows, followed swiftly behind by someone who was clearly not a friend.
The enraged spitting of a language Peter didn't understand was thrown back and forth between the two men, even when the man in black decided to turn around and take on his pursuer.
It didn't matter in the long run, as his assaulter flashed a concealed knife and dragged it along the man's neck with such precision it left him still alive, but bleeding quickly.
The man choked, a hand flying toward the wound, giving his attacker ample time to take something out of his pocket and and kick him down.
Peter landed behind him.
"Hey!"
He turned around, eyes narrowed in preparation to see who had interrupted him.
Before he could make out the red, blue and white figure behind him Peter had already roundhouse kicked him so hard he flung backwards like a ragdoll.
He slammed into a dumpster, leaving a tiny but noticeable dent in the metal, but it didn't seem to stop him from jumping back on his feet again, teeth bared.
"Spider-Man," he spat, like he had a bad taste in his mouth.
"Mystery man," he replied. His eyes were covered with goggles with yellow lenses, leaving only the bottom portion of his face viewable.
"Didn't your mother never teach you to mind your own business?" he spat all of this in English rather then the language he had been spewing before to the now gasping man on the ground.
"Wouldn't know, mine didn't live long enough to teach me that rule of etiquette. Who are you?" Peter demanded.
"I could ask the same to you," was his response.
Peter sighed, he wasn't getting anywhere.
"Who are you working for?" he changed tactics.
Not wasting a second on pointless chatter, the man rushed forward.
He swung his knife at Peter's torso but he deflected easily. Peter's spider senses caught his other arm throwing a punch at his collarbone and with a flick of his wrist, knocked it away, giving him time to jump back and and fire his web shooters at his own torso, hoping to web him and stop his movements.
What surprised him was the clear dodge the man did, making the webs miss him easily, and in his shock Peter missed the knee expertly lifted coming straight for his abdomen.
Peter doubled over as the wind got knocked out of him.
His vision went dizzy, and he swayed on the spot.
The man, seeing his advantage, pulled back and threw a punch at his stomach. He grit his teeth as the wave of pain that shot through him.
As he coughed, Peter thought of his lack of practice he had lately.
Once he had became Spider-Man nearly nine years ago, he had began to go to the gym and take gymnastics again, to keep in shape. It had helped improve his strength and cardio, but recently with keeping F.E.A.S.T from closing (with thanks to the Mayor for donating money as a favor to 'Harry's oldest friend') and helping Miles with his own training, he had been seriously messing up his dexterity.
Taking the one-second window as the assaulter readied himself for the next punch, Peter bent his knees and threw his chest back.
He watched the fist narrowly miss his head but didn't wait for him to gather his bearings.
He threw one hand behind him onto the ground and sent a roundhouse kick into his opponent's legs, followed swiftly with one straight to the stomach.
The minute he buckled, Peter sprang back up and delivered a set of punches of his own.
He had the man backing up, but Peter was not ready for the flare he pulled out his pocket and pulled.
The light blinded him temporarily, and he backed up himself and covered his eyes.
He was not expecting a flare.
He ripped of his mask to rub at his eyes, the black spots slowly fading away and when his vision was clear, he looked up.
The man was gone with whatever he took from the still choking man on the floor.
Peter sighed angrily. He didn't have time to brood or chase after his opponent, not with a man coughing on his blood as he died out on the floor.
He wiped at his bloody lip and pulled himself over to him, dropping to his knees next to him as he assessed the damage.
The man-who seemed to be in his mind forties, if he was correct-wasn't wearing a mask or anything to cover his face, and unlike the professional clothing his opponent had on this man was wearing a trenchcoat, and was currently patting his pocket fearfully.
His blue eyes were wide, but not for himself.
"He-took-i-it!" he sputtered. "The-addr'-ss-"
"Look at me, sir. What did he take?" Peter asked.
He ignored him, patting his pockets.
"Th-cap-! Ne-eed to w'n the-cap-!" that's when he gasped, staring at the spider on his suit. It seemed to spur something in him, as he latched a hand around Peter's wrist. "H-r-!" he raised his other hand, and dropped a crumpled note onto his lap. "Took i-it e'rl'r-!"
Peter picked it up and gingerly opened the folded piece of paper.
It had been ripped from an official document, he could tell from the texture, and written in text were the words:
TARGET LOCATED: LAUNCH OPERATION DEATH.
The ink began to smudge from the rain, and he noticed curiously that some of the words were in bold, and were taking much longer to wash away like the others.
"Operation-? What's Operation Death?"
With a title like that, he knew it wasn't good.
The man didn't seem to know himself, gasping and choking for air, his eyes still wide.
Peter didn't know if he was scared to die or if he was worried about whoever he was trying to protect. His eyes caught sight of something around the man's neck, a symbol of sorts, but when he went to lift it up to take a closer inspection-because he recognized it from somewhere he just didn't know where-the man just...stopped.
He stopped, and took a good luck at Peter's face in the moonlight, now that the moon wasn't obscured by the building above.
His dull eyes widened, and he gasped for breathe.
"I kn-...kno-y-!"
"You know me?" Peter didn't recognize the man at all, but he seemed convinced. He had that look in his eyes, like he had been thrown back in time just by seeing his face. "Have we met before?"
"Y'u-" he coughed again, and blood spluttered against his uniform and Peter's suit. It didn't seem to matter, as the rain began to wash it out. "Y'ur-"
"What? What about me, sir?" Peter asked.
He wasn't fully there, his throat had just been slit and he was dying, so it was possible he was mixing him up with someone else he knew. It happened close to death, especially when the victim was in serious condition, when their mind was delirious.
But the look in his eyes, hidden behind his fear, was pure, absolute certainly.
The man chuckled, a small smile on his face.
At least Peter could give him that.
"No-n't y'u-"
He sighed, and looked up above him, at the moon and the stars that could be visible in the polluted New York City sky. A sheen slowly covered his eyes, leaving them foggy and grey, and his last breathe left him.
He wasn't in there anymore.
Peter sighed, and closed the man's eyes. It came with the price of being a superhero, he couldn't save everyone.
He stood up from his kneeling position, before freezing half way up.
The necklace. He had to take the necklace.
He didn't know why, but he had seen it before and he needed to know where it had come from, before he called an ambulance to report the body and it would be buried with him.
He leaned down and tugged the necklace off, and shoving the piece of paper and necklace in the pocket he kept his phone, Peter donned his mask once again and headed for the rooftops, calling the authorities as he did, an anonymous caller to keep his identity a secret.
And as Peter zipped through the city, fully prepared to warn Miles and Yuri of what he felt in his bones was coming, he still didn't know who he was.