Squish, bringing you post Spiderman: Homecoming (adjusted).
Originally I wanted Spiderman to vs some Trickster wannabe but it didn't go in that direction unfortunately. Instead we get this relationship-based, half social media plot that's really not providing a lot to the narrative. Somewhat disappointing in my very critical opinion but we'll see if I can improve for the newly announced Endgame (trailer's tragic and I'm not sure if I'm crying inside or ecstatic).
Anyway, this bit's choppy and full of extra information (and some fun stuff) so it's not great but I wanted you guys to know I'm not dead.
So, enjoy. Notes at the bottom!
~\start./~
'-a series of bombings have been claimed by someone known as The Trickster. It is unknown if the alleged bomber is another copycat to have arisen after the reveal of SHIELD at this time. No one has been seriously injured but police have asked the public to avoid certain areas in the city which can be found at our website.
'On other news, the recently announced engagement between the Ironman Tony Stark and current CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts-'
Peter swiped the remote off the table and clicked it off before dumping it on the seat next to him. With a groan, he slouched into the couch and shut his eyes. He had two subjects worth of homework, a Fortnite game to win and three chores to do – and he was grounded.
"Peter?" Aunt May called from the kitchen. "Have you finished your homework?"
The teenager jumped up out of his seat, plastering a nervous smile. "Uh-err…not yet?"
She gave him an unimpressed sigh. "Well dinner is in half an hour, so…"
"Oh, right – yeah," he blurted, turning to head to his room. "Will do."
She rolled her eyes, smiling. "Yeah, yeah. Don't stress out too much."
~\/~
The Trickster – Urban Legend or Mass Murderer?
We've all heard of The Trickster. Whether it's from the beings in mythology or from those leaked SHIELD files, we all know what it is. A mischievous being that plays tricks. Or a mischievous beings that plays tricks on those who deserve it, from arrogant asswipes to the worst of criminals.
You'd think that all the douchebags in the world should have something to bring them down a peg, right? That a Trickster is a damn good incentive for naughty little kids to play nice?
Well, I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want my kids to grow up hearing about gruesome deaths and malicious attacks, karma or not.
And that's what The Trickster stands for. Lots of people in the internet have a biased opinion on what The Trickster does. Sure, he targets lots of horrible people and some notably horrible organisations (like the human trafficking ring), but so many people ignore the things he actually does. He's set vicious animals on people, thrown people off buildings, made people go literally insane and countless other things.
The sheer amount of 'inventive' ways to get back at these fellow humans is just disgusting. What kind of sociopath do you have to be to do all these things? I'm not saying that these people should keep doing what they're doing, but no one should have the right to act as judge, jury and executioner of anyone.
Sure, the guy is a trend setter or whatever, but he's a vigilante, people. He's taking the law into his own hands – which is exactly what the Sokovia Accords are for. I don't care if he has superpowers or some sort ability to bend reality. In this day and age, is that even new? No one can enact vengeance on a person without consequences.
The things this trickster has done are morally abhorrent and is a violation of human rights. The Trickster is not some karma entity – he's a vigilante, a sadistic sociopath and a mass murderer.
Anonymous.
~\/~
"Hey Peter, did you finish the calculus work?" Ned asked, leaping into Peter's personal space.
Startled, Peter whipped around and smashed his head into the locker next to him. And if that wasn't enough, the bang was loud enough to make other students look over and wince from second-hand pain. Great, more attention from the resident nerd. Ned, the blessing to the world that he was, squawked and immediately asked if he was alright because holy crap that looked really painful.
With a groan, Peter rubbed the healing bruise near his ear and turned to face his friend. "Y-yeah. To uh, both of your questions." Luckily his hand had tightened around his phone, ensuring that it didn't fall and also managing not to crush it in his hands with super strength.
Ned stared at him for a moment before seeming to realise something and lighting up. "Oh, right. You got the- ya know, the thing. And cool, I was wondering if you could explain that last question with the physics bit."
"Oh, sure. I can explain during lunch or something," Peter nodded, internally noting down his daily plan. He shuffled a few books in his locker and grabbed his stuff just as the bell rang.
"Yes! Thanks so much, Peter." Ned looked weirdly relieved, but quickly left to get his own things and head to the classroom.
Peter watched him leave before sighing and shutting his locker door.
The class itself – physics – wasn't exactly boring, but it wasn't fun either. It was another theory session, so Peter couldn't even pretend to actually be learning anything as he was forced to listen to another lecture about the quantum realm and another random scientist Elihas Starr who'd supposedly made some controversial discovery.
If anything, the class was interesting when they strayed into actually travelling into such a quantum realm (which was prevalent in other theories by Hank Pym), and then crossed over with Jane Foster's theories of Einstein-Rosen Bridges which then spiralled down into a long discussion about travelling between dimensions. Of course, then they discussed other possible dimensions, which was possibly straying into the supernatural.
(Unknown to him, this discussion had happened once before between individuals known as Agents W, X, Y and Z within the caffeine-deficient halls of SHIELD's darkest research offices.)
By the time the bell rang, Peter was out of the door as fast as possible.
It wasn't that he didn't enjoy physics (he very much liked it actually), but theory had never really been fun. Peter was a man of action - someone who felt truly alive when the world was slow and his body was pumping adrenaline. There was nothing worse than getting a taste of glory and superhero-ism and then having to return to being an ordinary boy in an ordinary school.
(And even if the Vulture was a wake-up call, his life had dulled into black, white and grey. What was he supposed to do now that he wasn't going to ascend into an Avenger-person? He was dazed. Confused. Junior year was just... not right.)
~\/~
The day dragged on after that.
At lunch, after the two of them ate, Peter and Ned headed to the library to work through the last question before their calculus class afterward. And because they were huge nerds and smart enough to work through it, their conversation quickly changed.
(And Peter had noticed that Ned had made it his personal goal to distract him and ensure they were almost always hanging out, especially since Liz left. He wasn't sure if Ned thought he was helping Peter through a 'difficult time' or not. But he didn't mind it.)
"Oh yeah, have you heard about the copycat Trickster?" Ned abruptly asked. His voice went a little lower but if he was trying to be subtle, it wasn't working.
"The bomber on TV?" he confirmed.
"Yeah," Ned nodded. "What do you think about it?"
"About the Trickster?" he frowned. The Trickster (in both philosophy and ability) was a tricky topic. Actually, the more people knew about it, the harder it became to differentiate between what was morally right and what was lawfully right. Sure, could understand the reasoning behind wanting to get revenge - human nature at its finest - but he could never endorse hurting others for one's own agenda.
"Yeah, man," huffed Ned. "Like, are you gonna patrol or something?"
Peter shot him a look. "I'm grounded. Aunt May hid my suit."
"But you aren't gonna do anything?" Ned asked, looking surprised. "The guy's on your turf. And he's a bad guy." Maybe Peter was being too critical, especially after the Vulture's cold words, but Peter felt that Ned was caught between reality and fantasy. Fighting bad guys wasn't nearly as easy as stories made it out to be. Often, it was conflict between ideals over one's actual ability to fight. And while Peter had strength in spades, he wasn't nearly old enough to form his own clean cut opinions.
It's not my responsibility, he wanted to tell his friend. I'm just your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. Bombs aren't my cup of tea.
(With great power comes great responsibility.)
"I dunno," he muttered instead. "I can't lie to Aunt May."
Ned studied him before making a face. "Alright. We still on for tonight?"
"Tonight?" he repeated blankly. Was there anything on tonight?
Ned groaned. "The Death Star. We talked about this," he complained. "Since we never actually made it, we were gonna try again today?"
Oh. Oh. Because last time Ned found out he was Spiderman. "Right, yeah. Definitely. Still on."
Ned beamed.
~\/~
Later that day, when the Death Star was half finished and Peter's latest homework lay untouched on the table, Aunt May regaled both Peter and Ned with tales of horrible cooking experiments. It was natural and fun and something Peter had been missing out on since he'd been grounded. It wasn't just the fact that he hadn't really talked to Aunt May, but more that he didn't know how to address the fracture in their relationship since his reveal.
He realised that he'd been slowly been distancing her ever since he'd started sneaking out and with him feeling guilty over lying to her all this time, it really wasn't helping – especially since they'd failed to have any real communication in a week and a half. Aunt May didn't deserve that. So the fact that Ned could so easily ease the tension between them and let them laugh over the jokes and mistakes of the past?
It was…nice.
After dinner, Peter helped his aunt with washing the dishes while Ned headed to Peter's room to collect the Lego pieces and bring it to the living room so they could finish it together. That meant that Peter and his Aunt shared an awkward silence as he soaped and she rinsed. While they'd had many chances to actually talk about the distance between them, Peter got the sense that she was waiting for something.
Peter was smart enough to admit that he got rather tongue-tied when he was nervous. But then again, being able to stick his foot in his mouth was a blessing in disguise.
"Uh," Peter said. He stopped and Aunt May blinked at him. "I'm, err, sorry. For lying to you. And sneaking out and stuff. And all that other stuff that you probably didn't want me to do. It was – I was really stupid and – uh – kind of selfish, I guess."
Peter could go on. He was good at babbling when he was nervous, but he forced himself to stop talking and swallowed the rest of the words heavily. He passed a plate to her as if he hadn't just said something really, really dumb.
She stared at it for a second before smiling, taking it and chuckling a bit. "Apology accepted." There was a pause. "But don't think you're stupid or selfish, okay. I know I'm a little…overprotective, but…" She gave a heavy sigh. "Being Spiderman is a big part of who you are now. I didn't realise that." The plate was put on the rack.
He passed her a couple of forks.
"Your suit is in my wardrobe," she revealed finally, taking the last utensils to be washed.
Peter lit up. "Really?" He hadn't been sure where it was, but if she was telling him what he thought she was saying... Aunt May turned off the tap and put the forks on the rack, studying him for a moment.
"Yeah, Pete," she said with a fond smile before it shifted to a stern look. "But there's gonna be rules."
"Oh, uh, yeah. Of course. Sure – that's great!"
And when she wrapped her arms around him in a hug (hands still wet), he hugged her back.
Yeah, he'd missed this. Rules or not. She was warm and familiar and she was actually letting him go out as Spiderman again! That was awesome.
"Uh, am I – am I ruining the moment here or something?" Ned suddenly spoke up.
Peter and his aunt both turned to look in surprise. He was holding the Death Star in his hands, the rest of the pieces in some plastic bag hanging off his arm. "Yep," Peter grumbled.
Aunt May laughed.
~\/~
Does anyone have a list for everything The original Trickster has done? (self. The_Trickster)
submitted 6 days ago by thisissmartperson
harrisonhunters 2.1k points, 4 days ago
Some group of fan guys and girls posted this a while ago. it's got almost all the stuff he's done. You can find all the info here in a 50 page package. No idea why anyone would spend so much time on someone we can't even be sure exists (SHIELD or not) but it's pretty impressive, if disgusting. Both the crime and the revenge. If you're squeamish, don't read past page twelve.
Some notable stuff is:
- Took down a Satan worshipping cult
- Set a whole menageries worth of animals on a lot of people
- 'Created' a new STD and castrated people
- Humiliated countless people and caused said people to be considered clinically insane
- Been caught by and escaped from SHIELD
- Literally burned the eyes out of someone's eye-sockets (and other gruesome stuff)
- Raided a few candy stores
Some of the things he's done is really dodgy, so proceed with caution. As for how this guy actually pulled off what he did, you can find some really interesting theories, but I personally think he's got some sort of magic.
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[deleted] 849 points, 4 days ago
According to WikiLeaks, he caused the civil war between Team Captain America and Team Ironman during the conflict with the Sokovia Accords.
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ur_blokt 712 points, 3 days ago
Are we not going to talk about all the good things he did? Because I'm pretty sure he saved some kid from an abusive household and healed a terminally ill patient or something. I'm sure he did other stuff but wasn't credited for it.
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~\/~
"Pete, look at this!" Ned exclaimed, practically throwing his phone at him, two days later. "Look, look!" School had finished, and with Peter treasuring his newly not-grounded state, decided to spend the afternoon with Ned in some quiet backstreet of New York City. Just relaxing. Not to mention his suit in his bag or anything. It was just precautions of course.
Startled out of quietly reading through some more Reddit threads in the middle of the corner café downtown, Peter put his hands up defensively and grabbed his friend's phone from the air with a frown. "What-?"
An Instagram post. Since when did Ned have an Instagram account-?
"Is that Thor?!" he blurted, examining it thoroughly.
Sure enough it was. The god, wearing some odd casual clothes, posed with some random girls in the middle of the street with that blinding Thor Smile™ of his. While Peter had never met him - how he mourned - he found that the god was one of his favourite Avengers. Simply because he was...basically everything Peter wasn't. The god was cool. Ned grinned almost triumphantly. "Yep! In the middle of New York City no less."
"That's pretty cool," he admitted. He scrolled down. "Who even posted this?"
"No idea," Ned replied brightly. "It just popped up and since, well, I'm your guy in the chair, it's my job to let you know." He sounded way too cheerful about it too. Peter groaned, passing the phone back.
"I'm not even…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm just your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman." He said the last bit a little quieter, around his soda straw.
Ned shrugged, unrepentant. "Well someone has to cover for you if it gets a bit more dangerous." There was a strange note to his voice that made Peter eye him warily. Ned's grin didn't change.
It's too dangerous, he wanted to say. You could get hurt. You could get really hurt. Peter thought back to the darkness and the weight on his back, as if he was Atlas, and the world asked him to keep the sky up. The horrible wakeup call it was, Peter didn't want his best friend to walk into something he wasn't ready for, but he didn't want to push him away.
"I know you've got my back," he said finally.
That was true at least.
"Yea-"
BOOM!
Across the street was a nicely large block building. Much like a square. Well, not anymore, Peter thought to himself, as the building shook and blew debris and smoke in all directions. The entire street shook.
It wasn't large enough to shatter the glass of the café or anything, but enough to startle and panic the patrons inside it.
It took a shocked glance between the teenage Spiderman and his guy in the chair before Peter was leaping out of his seat, seizing his bag from the floor and running outside. Ned stayed in his seat, and being as trustworthy and awesome as he was, paid for their meal and then helped some other customers get the hell out of there.
(Really, it was New York City. They didn't even need proper evacuations anymore, what with them being so used to these fuck ups and complete bullshit happenings. And it wasn't like they could do anything. Not really. With the government tightening down on the superheroes at hand and using them to chase down the rogue superheroes, there weren't nearly enough minor 'heroes' to help. The world needed more friendly neighbourhood Spidermen.)
Peter pulled out his beloved suit in the alley right next to the small café in one of the many alleyways of New York and was in the interior of the old building within a minute. To his surprise, for the sheer sound of the explosion, the damage was far less than he'd expected.
The building in question was far older than the rest of the street, with heavy brick walls and three storeys worth of rooms. An apartment. An apartment probably with old foundations and other stabilising platforms in some sort of disrepair. He needed to help get people out of there just in case.
Friendly neighbourhood Spiderman. He was the guy who helped people.
He swung into the foyer, quickly finding all the injured on the level (only three) and Karen – his trusty AI – busily put together an infra-red sighting of everyone upstairs. There were a couple of fires, three of which were minor and another that was quickly spreading, but the building didn't seem to have sustained any real structural damage. Yet. Instead, the right side of the building was rubble, and while it was stable, the stairs and elevators were trashed.
And with that, Spiderman prioritised getting people out of there, grabbing all three (the rest having quickly gotten out of their own accord) and leaping to the entrance before swinging up the side to the second floor. There were only five other people in danger, most having taken the emergency stairs, and Peter was lucky enough to find an open window to slip inside.
He took two trips.
It was simple enough in hindsight. Peter could certainly hear his blood pounding in his ears and the danger of rescuing people from a building. He wanted to believe that it was just a small explosion – an accident, and thus nothing special – but with the latest news, he couldn't dismiss it being a targeted bombing by the so-called Trickster.
Getting them out of there was simple. One because they were a ridiculously heavy sleeper, another hurrying to put some clothes on since they'd been in the shower and a third because they were a kid with headphones and caught in an intense League of Legends ranked game before slowly lowering them to the ground with his webs. Plus a dog. He held onto the cute pug on the way down. It was simple because he was recognisable and his words had weight.
Internally, Peter could help but feel a little small compared to his alter ego. Peter was the smart one. Spiderman was the important one.
And it was so obvious.
"Spiderman," the local enforcement recognised, taking the wriggling pug from him. "Is there anyone else in the building?"
Peter nodded. "Two more. I'm heading up to get them now. The rest of the building is empty."
He didn't wait for a reply, heading up to the third floor.
"Hello!?" he called at the closed door. "Sir, ma'am, there's been an explosion, and you might need help getting out of here. The building is being evacuated!"
No reply.
He frowned. Karen informed him that the one apartment held the remaining people, and were actively speaking with one another. They didn't seem distracted either. This particular apartment wasn't nearly as big as it seemed. There were many rooms and space, yes, but the third floor actually hosted a meagre two separate apartments - one being empty. The one he was concerned about in question had a couple of windows on the side of the building. Bingo.
Peter went around, sliding through another window and climbing on the wall to the one on the other side. It was locked. "Hello?! Spiderman here."
He glanced through the glass and found dozens of bottles and newspapers and glasses and the whole load. It was a pigsty. It was disarranged and unclean and dubiously dark. It wasn't a particularly sunny or bright day, and there weren't any lights on.
Beyond that, he could see two men – one much older than the other. Father and son, Karen said, speeding through police files. Father notable for being investigated for abuse and drug use and son for petty crime and theft. Mother died to friendly fire as an army officer, which was when all the crimes had started.
Peter didn't care who they were, just that they needed to get out of there.
He knocked. Loudly.
The two swung around in shock and he waved. They couldn't see his nervous smile under his mask, thankfully. "PLEASE EVACUATE THE BUILDING," he shouted through the glass. "THERE WAS A BOMB." He made all the helpful gestures and was definitely loud enough but their reaction was unsatisfying at the very least.
The son, a young man wearing a casual employee's slacks and dress shirt, had something of a wild look in his eyes – something he'd last seen in the Vulture. It was an angry, desperate, furious glare of someone who had too much to lose and it was all falling apart around them.
It was enough of a shock that Peter flinched. The man levelled a venomous glare at him. On the other hand, the father looked the very opposite, barely aware of the threat and frowning vacantly. Actually the father wasn't even looking at him, almost through him. His pupils were dilated.
What the hell?
Karen's concerned, "Peter, are you alright?" and the whine of sirens below broke him out of his confusion. And when they didn't move, he swung away and came back with a kick to break the window, much like before (except less dangerous) during the Washington trip.
"You guys need to get out of here to safety," he said, mindful of the glass shards. "A bomb went off so the building has been evacuated. Please take either the emergency stairs or allow me to get you to safety."
Another pause.
"Heh. Heh, heh, hehahahahahaha." The younger man bent over laughing. There was something complete and utterly rattling about the manic laugh, and his eyes widened behind the mask. "Spiderman. A fucking superhero." The scorn and disdain wasn't exactly new (especially in his early days), but the crazed tone it was delivered in…well, that was frightening for a pubescent boy. "Of course. Of course you have to-"
"Spiderman?" repeated the older man in confusion, glancing between the younger and Peter. "Who's that?" His voice was slurred and it was becoming more and more obvious that the man was high out of his mind.
Peter really, really wanted to just go home and get thrashed at CSGO. "Look, can I just get you guys out of here?" If he had to, he would web the two of them to restrain them and then get them out of there.
Because he didn't want to be there. This room stunk of smoke and alcohol and weeks old pizza. And he was pretty sure there was some weed growing in a pot in the corner. Not to mention the white packets on the kitchen table.
He was ignored.
The younger man started mumbling to himself pacing two steps. His skin was pale, he was sweating and the feral look in his eye reminded Peter of a caged animal. It was crazed, and the man's quick breaths weren't normal either. "The stairs are unstable right? And the elevators are destroyed and there's no escape from the third floor. There's no way out. We'll die together, like we're supposed to. Father and son, right? Right? No mistakes, n-no mistakes... And Spiderman can't- he can't do anything!" The man grinned wickedly at him. "There's always plan B! And-"
Peter felt like the world had dropped from underneath him.
What.
"Karen," he said very slowly, very quietly – practically breathing the words out.
"Scanning the building now," she replied instantly.
"-all this time, all that goddamn money-" The younger man's voice was a fervent ramble of words lost to the shaking of his hands and panting gasps of laughter.
"Wait," said the father, abruptly coherent. "You're that red, blue dude on TV." The man jumped to his feet, eyes scarily focused on him now. "What the fuck do you think you're doing in my home?! Get out! You fucking – get out of my house now!"
"Peter!" Karen said urgently. "Get out of there now! There's a bomb-!"
~\/~
The place was grand, in a dark-and-creepy way. Even in the new (oh-my-god-Stark-tech) suit didn't save him from the slimy feeling that covered the walls. It was a bone-chilling cold, and not just physically. This place made his newest sixth sense perk up and it wasn't going away.
It was a horrible, invasive feeling.
Not that he would run away or anything. He sat in the suffocating silence – a spider's nest near the high roofed bunker – as the Tony Stark and the Steve Rogers argued amongst themselves.
(For any fan boy, the sheer discord the Avengers showed amongst themselves startled him. It was a shock to find that his heroes – the world's heroes – were so split. That they could spit in the face of the other and fight so furiously. As if they hadn't fought together – spilt blood, sweat and tears together. Maybe he was influenced by all the propaganda and sensations of the internet, but they were the Avengers.)
And when it got explosive (as much as a shield and repulsor blasts could get explosive), Spiderman crawled out of his little hole, stealing the most famous shield in the history of shields and flipped like a pro.
The battle played out in a blur – a flash of red or yellow – and a dance of arrows, claws and wings. It was all over the place at once, and Spiderman couldn't help but feel far out of depth. He'd seen tons of videos on how to fight and the suit (and his own flexibility and durability) was no joke. He was as prepared as any teenager could be in a superhero fight.
But there was that extra punch – executed gracefully – or that sharp edge that just missed his face – which utterly nothing could match. It was the line between human and inhuman – manmade or not. And if he thought he'd seen a pair of bright green eyes, it must have been his imagination.
It was just…Spiderman wasn't cut out for this kind of fighting. This kind of angry, fierce conflict between emotions and warring philosophies.
(And philosophy was just as important as the actual fight itself, he knew.)
Even with Spiderman keeping well within the fight – multiple fights actually – ultimately he did very little. Very, very little compared to the vicious two on one Ironman was engaged in and the very elegant (if very assassin-y) fight between the bird and the bug (spider). Or the ant. Big ant dude.
Really, all he did was tape that evil Zemo guy down. The lithe Black Panther person didn't seem all that interested in fighting in Spiderman's opinion – but Spiderman was a kid and therefore not entitled to much of an opinion anyway.
And then it all came crashing down with a roar of fury and a wave of red energy.
~\/~
When he woke up, it was to Tony Stark's urgent, annoyed voice.
It took a few moments for him to recognise the ceiling of a hospital, and the wail of sirens in the far distance. It took another minute for him to realise that his suit had vanished and his skin felt raw and itchy.
As if he'd been in a-
The chime of a call ended and a pause. "Peter," said a suddenly tired voice.
He made a (really unintelligent) noise and looked to see Tony Stark studying him with a profound frown. Peter had never seen the billionaire so…exhausted. The lines in his face were so deep, so strong that it looked as if he'd aged decades in a couple of weeks. "Mr. Stark, sir?" he croaked out. Why was his voice so hoarse? "What-" He coughed. "What happened?"
The man's eyes sharpened. Peter hadn't actually noticed just how perceptive the man was. Well, everyone was knew the man was ungodly smart and knew how to play the public, but no one had ever noted the cool (jaded) acceptance (of things going wrong).
"You were caught in an explosion," Mr. Stark told him. "Not a day in the suit and back to hospital you go," he sighed. Peter winced. "It's not your fault," the inventor said. He looked away, lips turning downward in an unhappy frown. "Damn Tricksters."
Now that made Peter perk up. "Trick-Tricksters?" he echoed, voice dry.
Mr. Stark studied him again before dragging a chair from the side of the room (private, he realised) next to the bed. "Yeah, Tricksters, kid. You were lucky. That guy was just pretending so he could try get away with murder. Don't go chatting up real Tricksters."
The man's voice slowly changed – becoming more familiar – into a chirpy, dry Tony Stark. It was strangely relieving, yet at the same time made Peter feel for the man. Ironman wore a mask too easily. Peter couldn't imaging wearing a composed (or being it, period) façade every single day without fail.
Peter said nothing himself, content to subtly dig for answers to feed his curiosity (obsession).
"They're some of the most dangerous people in the world," Mr. Stark continued, eyes turned inward in thought. "Loki and Gabriel."
What?
"Gabriel?" he said in confusion.
Mr. Stark blinked at him. Breaking out of his thoughts he waved away the previous conversation and leaned back in his chair. Dammit. "Now, kiddo. We need to discuss what the hell you were doing."
He groaned.
~\/~
A boy enraged by the pains inflicted by his father picked up both the name (copycat) Trickster and a large amount of explosives from the caches from his late mother. A revenge plot.
The man he'd turned into snarled into the cameras on the TV screen and Peter found himself deeply disturbed by the violent rage in his eyes. A plot to kill his father and get away with it. So-called Trickster cases tended to go unsolved since everyone knew The Trickster was impossible to catch. Adding to the fact that he was intending to also kill himself, the death of his father wouldn't even stand out. So while the man was smart, it happened to be luck that was his downfall.
Spiderman of all people to save the day. To save an abusive father and the one person who didn't want help. Damn luck.
(He was almost glad that he was knocked unconscious in the resulting mess. Sure he had a vicious concussion and was very lucky to suffer no consequences, but at least he didn't have to experience his growing claustrophobia again. It was luck again that got him out of that mess, with Ned and Karen working together to both drag him out of there and call help.)
In all honesty, Peter might have cried about his suit.
It was Stark quality, yes, but it also took the brunt of a serious fall and C4. It wasn't 'iron' (titanium alloy or whatever secretive metal it was) and was ripped half apart. He might have also cried about Karen.
It felt like all the progress he'd made the day before had fallen apart. His body was one big bruise and he was grounded again. Not because he saved everyone, or that he was just doing as he normally would while being Spiderman, but actually because Mr. Stark was kind of mad that his suit was destroyed and that Peter was in hospital again.
Peter wasn't really sure what he could do to salvage the situation, what with his aunt already being informed, but he was working on it.
It was better than not talking about it all though, right?
~\fin./~
Some notable stuff to know:
a) I edited this. And added exactly 1000 words because I'm picky like that. Dated at 22/12 in 2018
b) Harrison was the original last name for the Winchesters
c) I can't write American teenagers. I'm Australian, okay
d) I had some early ideas of what Gabriel might do to all these criminals which doesn't quite reach 50 pages but enough for some totally unnecessary dot points. I'm not creative enough guys. Tell me some of your ideas!
e) No quote this time. Not really significant enough to deserve it
You're welcome to review! :)
