21. peter the avenger!
"That's a superpower?" questions Peter, and Scott Lang appears properly offended, taken back, and it's evident even in the darkness of the Quinjet as it soars through the night's sky. "How is that helpful to anyone?"
Tony's going to miss this. The seemingly clueless and effortless way Peter delivers an insult, without really meaning too, and with stunning accuracy. It will fade away with age. With self-awareness and growing up, and with real-life experiences that will bring him to realize even Ant-Man, as absurd as it seems, has a place with the Avengers. Tony is old enough to recognize they needed everyone, all the help they can get, but he's also proud enough not to say it out loud.
"It's not. We only let him join cause Sam felt sorry for him," says Tony.
"I like you better without your mini-me, Stark."
"Speak for yourself," mutters Bucky.
Tony and Peter share a grin, and Scott's expression darkens further.
It's a nice moment, but it doesn't ease the tension. At least not for Tony. There's another benefit of Peter's youthful insolence. Or maybe it's arrogance. Whatever belief he has that has lead him to believe his superpowers make him invincible. It's hard to forget even mutants are fragile and human with Norman Osborn sitting nearby. He's too close to Peter for Tony to be completely comfortable, even if he has planted himself between the two of them.
Bucky sits on Peter's other side. He remains stoic and still even when the Quinjet jolts in the sky, causing everyone else to be tousled and startled. Peter gets thrown into Tony's side, quickly apologizes, and straightens back out. It's against the rules. The apology. But Tony lets it slide as he watches Peter look around the jet while they descend to the ground.
His eyes are full of stars, and Tony doesn't know how long it will take, how much the boy can take, before he snaps. Before youthful insolence is wiped away by death, by seeing death. It's a miracle that hasn't already happened.
Peter's seen more death than most adults by now.
And that makes it worse. Sometimes it only takes one push at the wrong time. One push to knock someone over the edge and change them forever. Put them on a path to an abnormal life. Like Tony's. Like the rest of the Avenger's. Peter gets closer and closer to that every day, and Tony makes a promise, only to himself, that is the last time he allows him into a situation that brings him closer to it.
Closer to the place that makes normalcy impossible.
All of them clamber out of the jet, and Tony splits his attention between keeping an eye on Norman and keeping an eye on Peter, who sprints away farer than Tony's comfortable with into the grassy field. Clint's landed them far enough away from the facility for them to be easily cloaked, both by technology and by darkness.
Tony catches up with Peter. They're both standing on a small hill, looking at the facility up ahead. A familiar expression falls across Peter's face. It's the same one he had while Scott explained to him what kind of powers Ant-Man has.
Unimpressed.
"It's so small," says Peter. "I've never seen it from the outside looking in before."
"Changing your perspective changes everything," says Steve, approaching them with a black backpack in his hands. He helps Peter into it, the bag with all the antidotes in it, and Tony adjusts his attention back to the research facility.
Peter's right. The building is small. For what it is, anyway, and the room with the glass cage is easily recognizable. It's a short and wide, as if at some time it were separate of the rest of the building, which is narrow and is stacked upward several stories into the sky.
"Hey kid," says Tony. He ignores Steve, and Bucky who's the newest arrival to their small meeting on the hill. Tony takes off his watch, the gauntlet watch, and hands it out for Peter. "Take this."
Hesitantly, he takes it, turns it over in his hands, before looking back up at Tony.
"I know," says Tony. "Superpowers. You have superpowers. I got it, alright? This makes me feel better, so just take it and wear it, okay?" He makes his voice lower, quieter, and puts his hand on Peter's shoulder. "I don't know if I would ever forgive myself if something happened to you."
He cracks a carefree, innocent smile and does what he's told, adding the watch to the wrist with the single web-shooter attached. "No one's dying tonight, I promise."
It's a promise he can't keep. Not even Avengers wield power over life and death, and besides that, it's not death Tony's worried about. Not death all on its own. He pushes that thought away, and he distracts himself with another problem.
"That arm is a little crowded, don't you think?"
Peter gives him a slow, deliberate sign and stares at him.
"Right," says Tony, and he's wondering if he should give up trying to get him over being a one-handed Spiderling. "Well it was worth a shot."
Peter looks at him one last time, before stepping in stride beside Bucky, as the two of them make their way from the hill and towards the building looming off in the distance. It's the part of the plan Tony hates most. They go in first while the rest of them wait outside for the signal that all the kids are in the clear, so none of the morons who run the place have a chance to hit a kill all button. He hates the idea of Peter being in that building without him, so he stands and watches Bucky and Peter get smaller and smaller, until they're dots, until he can't even see them anymore.
"They grow up so fast, don't they?" Norman joins them on the hill. "One minute they're getting bit by spiders in your lab, and the next they're off to destroy the very place and people that gave them the gifts they possess in the first place. That's teenagers for you. Never appreciative."
"I wonder if Harry will be appreciative if crazy scientist number one decides to pull the trigger and give Harry some powers of his own," says Nat, closely following him, along with Clint.
Only Scott Lang stands back, near the jet, on his phone. Probably getting an ETA on the rest of the team. They will arrive soon. Backup to help deal with hauling the kids to the compound. Or with anything else that could go wrong.
"Who knows?" Norman says, with a shrug. "But then again I didn't send my son in there willingly. Wouldn't that be an irresponsible thing for a father to do? Send their son into a place deemed dangerous enough for the Avengers to shut down?"
Tony clenches his jaw. It's a head game. Words are the last, desperate weapon Norman has left to wield now he's given away all his secrets on camera. Insight doesn't stop them from being effective, though, and Tony works furiously to keep his mouth, to stay silent.
"He'll be fine, Tony," says Steve. "He's not alone, and Bucky won't let him out of his sight."
Tony nods. He may not like Bucky, wouldn't trust that man with his own life, but he can be trusted with Peter's. It's a certainty. One of the only few Tony knows for sure. Any of them would die for that boy. All of them, if it ever comes to that.
"Did you remember the sleeves?" asks Nat. "For our friend with the fire."
"In the jet," says Tony.
He's never designed anything to naturalize a child before, but the guilt he felt as he designed and built it completely erased the moment he saw the burns on Peter's arms. He' can't be reasoned with. He'll have to be taken by force, contained somewhere secure, where he can be rehabilitated or more likely, locked up when he can't hurt himself or anyone else.
Sometimes people are too far gone to be saved. Tony counts him as one.
Norman heaves a lofty, purposeful sigh, and Tony braces himself. He's starting to get it. Harry's speech outside of the principal's office. There are some people who are just to annoying to avoid punching. Add his crimes to his irritating chatter, and Tony starts to lose the desire to control his fists.
"I just hope none of the other spiders get lose in the scuffle," says Norman, and all eyes look dead back at him. "What? You didn't think there was only one, did you? The spider is my most successful experiment. Why wouldn't we try to repeat it?"
"There's more radioactive spiders in there?" asks Steve.
"Of course there are," says Norman, but Nat's eyes are narrowed in on him.
"No there aren't," she tells him. "If there were Peter wouldn't be the only spider-kind running around."
"Who says he's the only one?"
They all share looks. Uneasy ones. And it's apparent how much they take it for granted Peter doesn't fight them, at least not physically, at least not since the night Bucky had to haul him back up to the suite after he snuck out. Peter doesn't use his powers. Not against them and not to get his way, but other kids with those same powers… a kid like the fire boy for example, well they would have a hard time dealing with an army of angry spiderlings, waiting and ready to be unleashed on them.
Peter is at least gentle when he's not compliant. He can't imagine it'll be the same story if they're others.
"He's the only one," says Nat. Her words are certain. Her read on Norman final, and Tony is relieved, but also disappointed.
He still hasn't quit searching for a reason to get Norman away from everyone else and on the receiving end of his fist.
"If you're sure," says Norman. He shrugs. "I'd be willing to show you where they keep them. The spiders. But I guess you'll have to find out on your own. Or worse. You'll find out when you set them free and they bite someone else."
"Name your terms," says Tony. He avoids the gazes of the rest of his team, but he can feel their stares.
"No terms," says Norman. "We'll go inside. Just the two of us and I'll show you."
"Tony."
He ignores Nat.
"I'm going in as Iron Man."
"Whatever makes you comfortable," says Norman.
"Tony," says Steve. "We need to discuss –"
"Deal," he says, and Norman smiles. Tony imagines wiping that smile off his face, ignoring the disappointed look from Steve, the fire and fury from Nat, and the refined, calculating confusion, the kind that eventually cuts through the bullshit, from Clint.
Tony can't be bothered to care about their opinion, though. Doesn't mind their judgements. He's one step closer to being inside the place where Peter is, and another step closer to having a proper excuse and opportunity to knock Norman Osborn around before he's locked safely behind bars.
Harry's last name is currency, and if he were born into a different time and space, in another universe or another life, he might be royalty. He imagines it would feel the same. What's the difference, really? The wealthy make the laws. They buy the laws, it could be said, and everyone bows down to money, in one way or another.
Or at least that's what his father always told him. Where there's money, there's power, but Harry's been rich his whole life and he's never felt very powerful. Even as he roams the hallway of a place owned by his dad, where he should be practically royalty, he's still invisible.
Guards walk pass him. They don't say a word. They don't ask questions. They don't try to stop him or send him back to his room. It's all a little insulting. He's not actually invisible, and he knows they see him, they know he's here, but they aren't really seeing him. Not for him, at least, who he is on the inside. A threat.
Someone who won't be pushed around anymore.
Someone they should fear.
Not the way people fear Norman. Harry doesn't want that. More like the way his father fears Iron Man, because that's what all his disgust aimed at Tony Stark and the Avengers is masquerading for. Fear. Fear of being drug into the light and found out. It's something Harry didn't understand until he started to think about things, until he simply did a Google search and all the pieces started to unravel.
His father… the villain. Harry's determined to be nothing like him.
"Hey."
The voice is gruff and surprised, and Harry's equally surprised as his eyes land on a guard. Behind him, there's a glass door with a hint of a mystery behind it.
"What are you doing out of your room?"
Harry shrugs. "I got lost."
The guard is fresh-faced. Young. Probably just out of high school, or maybe he's someone who dropped out and made the mistake of working for an Oscorp company.
"Well go back to your room."
"I'm lost," says Harry. "Meaning I don't know how to get back to my room, genius."
"Think you're funny?"
"Not really," says Harry, with a frown. He doesn't see where everything he's said so far could be taken as a joke.
The guard furrows his brows into a glare, into what he probably thinks is threatening, but it's sort of cartoonish actually. Harry takes a mental snapshot. It'll make for a good sketch. If he ever gets out of here.
"You know, I'd be nicer to me if I were you," says the guard. "We're allowed to use force if the subjects give us any lip or attitude."
It's the first time Harry feels anything remotely resembling fear since getting to this building, since talking on the phone with his father and having him confirm he's paying for him to live. This idiot doesn't know his name. Doesn't know he's an Osborn and all the benefits that come with his name.
There's a brief flash of panic and it's followed by action. He steps forward, pulls back his fist and sends it spiraling into the guard's mouth, in one swift movement. He shocked. Too shocked to react like anyone trained to be a guard of anything, and so when he doesn't fall the way Flash had, Harry pushes him, pushes him with every ounce of frustration that comes with being unseen and ignored.
The follow-through puts the ignorant guard through the door, sending shards of broken glass to the floor along with the man himself. He hits the floor hit, cracking his head on the concrete, and doesn't get back up. Harry holds his breath, then releases in relief when he sees the guard is still breathing.
He steps into the mysterious room, one slow step after another, and frowns. There's a metal table sitting in the center of it, with metal shackles and leather straps. It doesn't take much of Harry's imagine figuring out what goes on in this room. This is where the Osborn fortune gets put to work. Slicing open and experimenting on kids. Kids like Peter. Kids that could be Harry. In another life.
If the cards were shuffled differently, he may be the one with superpowers, and he wonders if the trauma is worth the reward. Wants to know for himself if all that power is worth being strapped down to a table, worth having two dead parents and some time spent in captivity.
His eyes drift towards an open cabinet filled with vials, and his feet move closer without his brain telling them to do so. All the vials are exactly the same, boring clear liquid, except two near the center. Those two are bright, glowing green, and in-between them, there's an empty slot. It's the only empty slot in the entire cabinet, but Harry doesn't dwell. He picks a green vial, because it stands out among the masses and moves away from the cabinet.
He raises the vial up to examined it, and it seems to sparkle even without light reflecting into it. Power glitters even in the dark, or maybe especially, but Harry's determined to do something special with his.
He's an Osborn. This building belongs to him, and in his mind, it gives him every right to burn it down. Turn it to ash. Erase his father's mistakes and set things right.
The sound of broken glass crunching under shoes whips Harry's head around. It's the same boy with blonde hair and dangerous hands, and he smiles.
"That doesn't belong to you," he says, then seems to reconsider, "Or maybe it does."
"Um this way," says Peter. He walks a few steps forward, Bucky following close behind, then comes to a sudden stop. "No, wait. This way."
Peter changes his direction, or at least, he tries to. He doesn't get very far on his new path before he realizes Bucky isn't following him. He stops, turns towards him, and waits for an explanation. Peter doesn't want to say so out loud, but he has no desire to wander away. To be separated from the adult watching him. Now it's the opposite, and so there's no moving forward if Bucky isn't moving forward with him.
Not in this place.
Outside might have looked unimposing, but now he's here inside the walls, his head is swimming with noise and silence and cold.
"We've been walking around in circles," says Bucky. "I thought you knew where the rooms are."
It's a nice way of saying what Peter is sure Bucky is really thinking. That he lived here for four years. He snuck around more nights than he didn't, and he should know where he's going. But he doesn't know. It's strange, frustrating and more than a little concerning. How can he be lost in a place he used to know so well? It's like he's losing his mind or left it back on the Quinjet with Tony.
Tony… there's a very childish part of him that wishes he were in here with him, too.
"Things are just… a little fuzzy," Peter admits. "I'm having trouble remembering."
"Concentrating or remembering?"
"Both? I'm not sure."
"Listen, Peter," says Bucky. He pauses, uncomfortable, before continuing. "You're not back here."
"What? We're standing –"
"But it's not the same. We're going to walk out of here. In minutes, hours, at the most and you're not here, the way you were here before. You're not stuck. You're not… backwards, in time."
He looks around the halls. They're empty, in more ways than one, but also filled with memories. Bad ones, and some not so bad ones but even those he wouldn't call good. Sneaking, sticking to the walls, learning how to control his powers for the first time, away from the eyes recorded his every move on clipboards and computers. Four years. He spent four years in this place, and one day, when he was five.
That's enough. And it's enough for the other kids, too. The ones he left behind.
He's ready for it to be over, and so when his head clears, the noise dies down, the silence melts into quiet and cold disappears, he knows the way.
"This way," he says, pointing to the opposite direction.
"Sure?"
"I'm sure."
Bucky nods, and they march on.
They reach a long hall, with many doors, and when they approach the first door, Peter motions for Bucky to stand back. He can't imagine what he'd do during his days trapped here if all of the sudden some guy with a metal arm was standing outside his door. Probably fight, or more likely, fight to run. He knocks on the door in code. It's a rhythm of knocks that separates him from the staff, or from Michael.
Michael. He's around here somewhere, roaming and waiting, and the thought fills Peter with dread. He doesn't want to fight with him, not now he remembers his name, but he won't have a choice. Michael doesn't know how to do anything other than fight.
Seconds later, the door cracks open. All Peter can see is mousy, ratty blonde hair and a pair of eyes peering out at him.
"P-Peter?" asks a small voice.
"Yeah," he says. "It's me. I brought a friend, too."
The door comes all the way open, and Riley is visible on the other side, both thin and pale. Is that the way he looked? When the Avenger found him? He has never realized the way all the kids here, him too, look like they're about ten seconds away from death. Steve and Bucky are right. Perspective is the lens he needs to understand he's not here anymore. Not really. Even as he stands in the past, he's not part of it.
"We all thought you were dead," she says.
"I'm not," says Peter. "We're going to get you out of here."
She steps out of the room entirely. Peter stops the door from slamming shut with his foot. It isn't his old bedroom, but they all look the same. Four grey walls, a bed that's too small and now that he knows better, not really a bed at all, and there's nothing else. Just a small space. And there's that ache in his chest coming back, the one that calls him back into his bedroom at the penthouse. The very permanent room, where him and Harry play videogames and Tony sits with him through the nightmares.
Getting back there is all the motivation he needs to keep going forward.
Very gently, he lets the door fall shut and has no desire to look back.
Riley looks up at Bucky with wide-eyes, blinking and not saying anything, while Peter takes the backpack off and digs around for the small plastic bottles of antidote. They're not shots like the one his dad gave him. They're liquid to be swallowed, and all the proof Peter needs to conclude his dad wasn't as smart as he pretended to be.
Or at least not nearly as smart as Bruce Banner or Tony Stark. Not if he couldn't figure out a safer, less painful and traumatizing way to protect him from the poison he invented.
He grabs one and hands to Riley. "Drink this. It's medicine."
She hesitates, looks unsure, but she does trust Peter. She unscrews the cap and drinks it. One down.
She becomes their helper with the rest, and one by one, they all drink up. Soon the hallway is crowded. Soon after that, they're on the last the kid. A small boy Peter's never seen before. Someone new. After he's done drinking the antidote, Peter zips the bag back up and puts it back on. There's still a few left inside. Bruce packed extras.
Bucky adjusts the communication link in his ear and begins to rely the message. He never gets the chance. Tony's voice comes through on the other side, cutting him off, and Peter breathes out a sigh of relief when he hears he's in the building with them. Not anywhere around. But somewhere, and the information Peter needs to understand that it's over.
The kids are safe. Iron Man and the rest of the Avengers are coming in, and soon they'll be flying away from this place. This time never to come back.
Bucky's troubled expression as he talks with Tony doesn't faze Peter. He's already thinking about seeing Norman and Monroe being taken away, about getting back to the compound into his bed there, about finality. He looks away from him and squints his eyes to see a small form all the way at the end of the hall. It's the smallest, youngest boy, the last one to receive the antidote, and Peter feels compelled to walk towards him.
He's only halfway there when the alarm sounds, and when he turns, him and Bucky lock eyes as a sheet of security glass slides down from the ceiling. Separating them. Separating Peter from everyone else except this one small boy.
And the walls are closing in, the noise turns up to eleven. Things tilt and become fuzzy and his head is spinning, or maybe it's everything else that's spinning. Maybe he's standing still. He's certain he's going to die, right here in this hallway on the wrong side of the glass, in front of Bucky and everyone else.
"Hey," says Bucky. His voice is far away. It barely breaks the surface. "HEY!"
Peter blinks back into reality, where walls are just walls and stay still, and looks at Bucky. He approaches the glass just as Bucky gets closer from his side. It's that same, special sort of glass, the kind even Bucky with his metal arm is useless against, the kind Captain America can't break, the kind from his nightmares.
"Don't go back there. Don't go back to that place in your head," says Bucky, and it's easier said than done. His nightmares are fresh now, like he's just woken up and realized they were and are incredibly real. "Peter, listen to me. Find an exit. Get you and him –" He points to the boy standing still clueless behind him. "-out of this building, and we'll meet you outside."
Peter doesn't want to, and it must be apparent on his face, because Bucky keeps talking.
"This is nothing. You're going to walk out of here, and we'll be home by morning."
"Okay," says Peter. There isn't any doubt written on Bucky's face, and he takes that as a good sign.
Bucky gives him a nod with an order in it. Get moving. With a deep breath, Peter turns, tells the boy to follow him and doesn't look back.
The talking doesn't stop. It continues as Tony clanks his way through the halls of New Life Research Facility in his armor with Norman at his side. Tony never gave Harry enough credit. He doesn't understand how it's possible to grow up with such an annoying insect constantly buzzing around, and it's no wonder Harry had been ready to punch the first boy his age with a mouth that wouldn't stop.
"You'll never be his father," says Norman. "That's Richard Parker's boy. Clear as day. Looks just like him."
Tony's response is to keep walking. To not entertain and engage in this type of conversation. There are words designed to create doubt, to mess with him, to distract him, and he's determined not to fall for it.
"You and your friend Captain America assumed I was talking about his powers when I called him dangerous. That's only part of it."
Something groans nearby, and it sounds similar to metal gates moaning as they open, the rusty gears operating them moving again for the first time in a long time.
"You all think I'm bad," says Norman. "But you never met Richard. He's the nastiest person I've ever known and having him killed was a service to humanity."
"Don't kid yourself," says Tony. They come to a turn, and Norman directs them where to go. "Don't make yourself out to be a hero when all you've done is killed someone just as bad as you, then continued on with the atrocities he made possible."
"Ahhh," says Norman. "But see there's the difference. I've done what I've done for science, to make progress, progress that will help the masses someday, cure diseases maybe, but Parker wanted to make monsters. He wanted to manufacture weapons, and he loved doing it. He loved hearing them scream. Didn't care much for crying, however. That always seemed to put him in a mood."
There isn't any way to know if what Norman is telling him is true, but the motivate is clear. To get under his skin. Despite this, despite knowing this and being able to see past it, Tony finds himself going through a list of Peter's behaviors and checking the boxes off. It's not a secret anymore Richard Parker had been a bad person. Someone the world wouldn't and couldn't miss, but now he's something worse.
A psychopath.
It doesn't matter much, though, at least not in Norman's case, because in Tony's opinion there isn't much difference between Richard Parker and Norman Osborn and that mad professor.
"He was truly evil," says Norman. "And that boy you're pretending is your son, that's where he comes from. He has that same DNA. That same blood in his veins. How long do you think it'll be before he starts to go bad and the Avengers will be hunting him?"
That idea causes Tony to bark out a laugh. Completely and utterly ridiculous, and Norman loses all credibility in that moment. Once Tony saw Peter avoid stepping on an ant while walking on the sidewalk, he talked Pepper out of killing a spider and instead set it free outside, and he couldn't even kill Monroe, a man who held him prisoner and killed one of his friends. He doesn't share any of this with Norman. These are all very close and private details, family details, and it feels wrong to bring them
But it does bring up a good question. How could something so good come from something that evil? His aunt and uncle, maybe. Peter always has good things to say about them. Maybe they saved him long before any Avengers ever did.
"Are you gonna show me these spiders? Or just keep gossiping like we're at a slumber party?"
"We both know there aren't any spiders," says Norman. "But not to worry. There are other… secrets."
They come to a room with a broken door, and file inside, stepping past a guard knocked out cold on the floor.
"I wonder if that's the work of your boy…"
Tony ignores him again and looks around the room. It's a sad, miserable, and haunting place. The sight of child torture, but there's no time to dwell. He hears someone click on the line, and wastes no time in cutting that person, Bucky, it turns out, off. The news of his entrance into hell is more important.
They don't speak long.
There's an ear shattering alarm, and when Tony searches the room, Norman is nowhere to be found. He can't be bothered looking for him, though, because the yelling on the other end of the line the very reason he didn't want Peter in this facility in the first place. He forgets about Norman as he sprints out of the room. A cabinet catches his eyes on the way out. One filled with vials and only three empty spaces.
"What's your name?"
Peter is trying to distract himself. He's trying to distract the boy too, because he's small and terrified and that's the way Peter feels on the inside despite being strong.
"I don't have one anymore," he answers.
The hall they're walking down is a familiar one, and once Peter realizes where they are, he doesn't want to reach the end. That's an impossibility. They will have to keep going, walk past the place Peter fears most, if they want to find an exit.
"What was it when you had one?"
"Teddy," he says.
They're almost there. Almost at the end where there's a choice to turn, or a choice to go inside the room he hates.
"It's short for Edward," he continues, "Cause my dad was called Edward too… I turn six soon… do you know what day it is?"
"I –"
"The man with the white coat says when I'm six I get to help with one of the experiments," he tells him. "Will I still get to? Even though we're leaving?"
"No," says Peter. "But it isn't very much fun anyway."
Teddy frowns and doesn't seem to believe him, and then they're there.
He peaks inside the dreaded room. Harry's in there. He's trapped inside the glass cage, living out Peter's nightmare, and Michael's there, too. Standing nearby the prison, watching Harry with interest, as he stares at something green in his hand. The black bracelet on Michael's wrist reminds Peter of the one that isn't on his wrist, and the antidotes sitting in his bag.
Both of them need his help, and he has a decision to make as he stands outside the door. It isn't a hard one.
Peter enters the training room, Teddy following close behind him, and it isn't until he door shuts behind him that he thinks it's a mistake. All attention lands on him. Monroe, who he hadn't realized was in the room seconds ago, looks at him, narrows his eyes, then pushes a few buttons on the computer.
The door behind him locks with a click, and a timer fills one of the computer screens.
A/N: If I wasn't so committed to these Peter Pan related titles, this one would have been called let's save the pitiful children, cause the Be More Chill soundtrack is everything to me. And ahhhh three more chapters left! Well actually 2 more chapters and epilogue, but same thing.
Thanks so much to everyone who's subscribing, favoriting and reviewing (cargumentluv, SongNoFound, HeCallsMeBeloved, Wisdomsqueen)