It wasn't a bad day.
Noted, it wasn't a good day, either; but, today- in all of its early hours so far- was decent. And honestly? Peter wasn't sure he could really ask for more. As far as the past year had gone, decent days were a small miracle. Sure, he had lingering aches from Spider-Man-ing after dark, but the wounds that the aches were left from had pretty much healed. Today would not be a day spent hiding a stab wound or broken ribs from the world, and that was good enough for him. On top of that, Ned had managed to get his own study hall teacher to sign him a pass to come to Peter's, which wasn't something that happened often; though, it was under the pretense of working on physics homework together, but those were the small details. Peter was honestly just enjoying having his best friend next to him to start the day.
Mrs. Warren had stepped out to go grab some papers from the printing room, leaving the class to work silently on last-minute homework- or sleep- and, as usual, left the television running the daily news in the corner of the room. The room itself was one of the lucky ones left with a mounted corner television, and Mrs. Warren stubbornly refused to switch over to SmartBoard technology for anything video-wise.
It was almost peaceful, in a way. Schools usually weren't places of peace- not for Peter- but this Monday morning was blissfully quiet. Flash was uncharacteristically quiet, but Peter chalked that up to him still coming down from the high of nearly dying in Washington. Those types of things usually took a month or more to bounce back from. Normally. And it'd only been a few weeks since Homecoming. Some of his loudest AcaDec team members were just as quiet this morning, too, even more so than Mondays usually commanded. Guilt stabbed at his gut as he remembered that what they'd gone through not too long ago was technically his fault. If he hadn't have picked up that Chitauri core.. in the long run, he hadn't even needed it. That damned explosive wasn't at all important to him saving the day, and yet he'd picked it up anyways. He'd never forgive himself for that. For putting his friends in danger.
As if sensing his thoughts, Ned placed a steady hand over Peter's. Peter looked up, meeting his friend's comforting gaze. He couldn't help but offer a small smile, nudging Ned's knuckles with his own in a sort of half-fistbump. Ned smiled too, the kind of smile only two best friends would level at each other as he initiated a proper fistbump, which in turn lead into their secret handshake- of course, a calmer version of it. They were sitting in first period study hall, after all (and if Peter heard Flash fake a gag behind him, well, he definitely didn't justify it with a response).
Moment had, the two returned to the familiar exchange of working on their separate homework pages, before sliding it over for the other to check through and make corrections (as well as place a few silly doodles in the margins).
Of course, peace never lasts.
There was a round of gasps and clangs of knees hitting desks as the TV that had previously been airing the morning news quietly gave a drastically louder, high pitched burst of static before going black. Peter himself was guilty of jumping, the noise having taken him by surprise. He hissed slightly, moving to place his hands over his ears- but the sound had already stopped, and rubbing his ears now wouldn't really do anything besides aggravating his aching arms. Instead, he propped himself up, sitting taller in his seat- as many of his classmates were, all dregs of sleepiness gone- as he turned to look at the offending TV. The classroom devolved into both quiet and loud noises of annoyance, and Peter felt that the thought of, 'it's too early on a Monday for this bullshit' was pretty unanymous.
The television was dutifully quiet still. He half expected Mrs. Warren to come barreling into the room scolding the teens for the loud noise from before and creating such a ruckus (even though it wasn't their fault).
The room quieted again once they realized the TV was staying quiet, presumably, and everyone returned to what they were doing beforehand. Not thirty seconds later, the TV burst into static once more. Betty's chair slid back, the sound of it scraping against the floor ringing through the room. She stalked over to the teacher's desk with only one look sent towards the door.
"What are you doing?" Flash snapped. It wasn't mean, just tired and curious, and Peter couldn't really blame him for that. The combination of his aches and the high-pitched noises from hell had Peter irritated to no end.
Betty, for a moment, didn't respond, instead opting to stare very hard at the contents on the desk. She brushed a few papers aside, careful not to disturb their order, before lifting a remote in the air for him to see.
"It's distracting," she stated flatly, inspecting the remote as she brought it back down to eye level, "the news isn't playing, so I don't think Mrs. Warren will care if I turn it off."
And, well. Yeah. Solid logic, considering the noise was god awful.
Flash grunted, throwing his arms behind his head and leaning back in his chair. Betty rolled her eyes, mumbling, "Glad I got his excellency's grunt of approval,". It was so quiet, Peter was almost sure he'd imagined it. He stifled a snort, reminding himself mentally to repeat that to Ned when they got to lunch.
It was just bad timing that as Betty raised her arm towards the screen to turn it off, the screen flickered back into color, music along with it. The tune was familiar but the 'breaking news' screen that accompanied it was.. odd. It wasn't the station's usual graphics at all, and Peter couldn't reasonably see why the station would change their graphics mid-broadcast. This time only Betty jumped, being closer to the television than the rest of them. Her eyebrows furrowed, turning back to the rest of them with utter exasperation plaguing her demeanor. Peter sent her a sympathetic shrug, gesturing for her to sit back down; of which, she mirrored the shrug and lightly tossed the remote back onto the desk by habit- before flustering and speeding over to make sure it hadn't broken or anything and then back to her seat. She ducked her head as best she could while still looking up at the screen. Even MJ was looking up at this point, her pencil halted on her 'people in crisis' sketchbook.
"This is breaking news," the voiceover broke away to show a reporter, expression serious though his tone was carefully professional. The bottom of the screen read 'London Attack Revelations'- something that had a few of them muttering to each other. Peter frowned. "We come to you now with revelations on last week's attack in London. An anonymous source provided this video; it shows Quentin Beck, AKA Mysterio, moments before his death."
… what?
Peter's mind reeled, catching and ignoring a very pointed glance from Ned in his peripherals. "'Attacks in London'?" someone repeated, aghast.
"This is a joke, right?" Flash was no longer leaning back in his chair, instead propped up on his elbows much like Peter was, leaning forward attentively and yet trying to play it off as being nonchalant. Peter subconsciously shifted backward, unwilling to mirror the bully in any way. "I mean, that's not even the real News."
Abe rapped on his desk, drawing attention to himself. He hesitated for a moment, as if realizing the consequences of drawing a classroom's worth of attention towards himself, but then cleared his throat.
"We have a digital media course," he pointed out, "it's possible this is just one of their projects."
It made sense, until it didn't. MJ met Abe with an unimpressed eyebrow raise.
"They don't start lessons in Premiere until April." she pointed out. The classroom lapsed into a brief silence, letting the television's audio steal the air.
"A warning: you may find this video disturbing."
Peter ignored it. "Maybe it was one of last year's projects?" He proposed. MJ's subsequent stare told him she didn't believe that for one second, but the rest of the class was more willing to accept his answer. There were a few head nods and some 'ohhhh's following his words; Peter shifted in his seat, looking back towards the screen.
The television burst into glitchy static again, causing the room to freeze, anticipating another black screen. This time, however, it recovered, showing a bloodied, unfamiliar man in what looked to be some type of hero costume.
MJ fixed him with a flat look, eyebrows raised, "The digital media kids definitely had a lot of fun with this one." Peter winced. Maybe the digital media department just has someone who dabbles into professional stage makeup? The wounds didn't look fake, but that was the magic of film. It has to be fake.
The man on screen- presumably Mysterio- looked frantic, chest heaving as he drew in breaths. Residual static- glitches- tore at the edges of the recording. "I managed to send the Elemental back into the dimensional rift, but I don't think I'm gonna make it off this bridge alive. Spider-Man attacked me for some reason-"
"What?!" Flash choked- as did Peter and Ned, for very different reasons. "Man, turn this shit off. I don't need to see some shitty ass project making Spider-Man out to be the bad guy. He would never." Peter felt like nodding, but something about agreeing with his bully went against his ideals. Didn't stop Ned from nodding rapidly to his side, though.
Betty made for the remote quickly, pausing the news feed. She sat back down, remote in hand and agitation clear in her expression.
"I dunno Flash," Cindy piped up, "I'm curious to see where it goes."
"Me too," some kid agreed, echoed by at least five others. I'm not, Peter bit internally. The Daily Bugle was bad enough- actually, Peter wouldn't be surprised if The Daily Bugle had put whatever student who made this up to it- but to have to deal with seeing similar shit during school hours?
Ned looked uncomfortable too; being in-the-know to the man behind the mask, he didn't really like seeing him painted in a bad light either. "Mrs. Warren leaves the TV on for the news, though. We shouldn't be taking advantage of her not being in the room to watch some- some ARG,"
Betty shifted her feet. She looked conflicted on something, opening her mouth and closing it a few times before speaking up. Please say it's a distraction again, or something! They listen to you!
"I mean, the Principal wouldn't air it on school television if it wasn't for a reason, right?" Betty reasoned.
No!
Flash looked ready to fight them on it, but even he couldn't refute that. He threw himself back in his chair, kicking his feet onto his desk and glaring at the television as if it personally offended him. Mood, Peter would've thought under any other circumstance. Now, though, he was just screaming internally. Great. I'm totally ready for whatever Spidey slander comes next.
Betty pressed play.
"He has an army of weaponized drones," Mysterio's words were speeding up as if he were running out of time, "Stark technology. He's saying he's the only one who's gonna be the new Iron Man, no one else."
"The 'new Iron Man'?" Abe muttered. Ned's head snapped towards Peter, mouthing the same words. Peter shook his head as frantically as he could without looking crazy to everyone else.
On screen, the static returned in full-force, and when it left, it had cut to another clip of Mysterio laying on his side, feebly squirming with his face twisted in pain. Spider-Man stood just behind him- but the suit was unfamiliar, not the usual blue-and-red suit he actually used. What the hell, Peter thought. Why go through the effort of putting together an anti-Spider-Man film and have it be so unauthentic? Are they just trying to sell the whole 'I'm evil now' schtick?
"Are you sure you want to commence the drone attack?" A robotic voice spoke from somewhere. "There will be significant casualties."
"Do it!"
Peter froze. That's my voice, he realized numbly.
"Execute them all!" The sound of gunfire and people screaming rose distantly.
"Dude," Ned hissed under his breath, leaning close to Peter with wide eyes. "You didn't tell me you'd voice acted. Is that how you knew it was only a project? That wasn't Karen- I mean, I guess anyone could put together that Spider-Man has an AI, though, since he talks to himself on patrols, but-"
Peter felt sick. This never happened, he assured himself mentally, wheezing in a breath, this hasn't happened, I would never do that. His mouth felt dry- he shook his head slightly, letting Ned continue rambling as he leaned forward, covering his mouth with his sleeves as he rested his chin against his palms. In the moment, he completely missed his phone going off in his pocket.
"It's probably coincidental," he mumbled into his sleeve, causing Ned to falter in his rambling. "Like a- like a doppelganger but with voices."
Ned looked doubtful. "Peter-"
Flash groaned. "Stop mumbling, idiots. The video's so fake- I mean, I wasn't expecting anything from this dumb video, but really?"
"I thought it sounded authentic enough. This whole thing is giving me the heebie jeebies." Abe muttered, rubbing his arm nervously, to which Flash scoffed.
"Fucking baby."
In a brilliant burst of static, the reporter from before was back on screen. "This shocking video was released earlier today on the controversial news website, ' .'"
"Makes sense," MJ chipped in, causing the two to flinch slightly. She raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the screen, "I mean, Spider-Man satire coming from The Daily Bugle. They hate him. What doesn't make sense is this being shown on the school's networks." A pause. "Why do you two nerds look so stressed?"
Peter lowered his head to his desk, resting it on folded arms. He ignored whatever stuttered response Ned had for MJ as he willed his heart to stop beating so fast.
Betty had paused the screen just as J. Jonah Jameson came on, "At least there's a familiar face. He does look…" she lapsed off.
"Older." Cindy finished. The kid to her right squinted at the screen, blinking a few times.
"Older," Betty agreed. "It's really odd."
"Yeah. Whoever's project this is, they went through a lot of effort. I mean, getting an actual industry professional to participate?"
A student just behind her shifted. "Are we sure this is fake?"
"Can you all just shut up and press play?" Flash interrupted.
Betty's eyebrows shot up. "I thought you didn't want to watch 'this shit'."
Flash pushed his chair back, crossing the few steps to Betty's desk. A few students tensed, fully aware of Flash's bullying tendencies- yet, the teen had never been brave enough to go after Betty, and never really bothered any other students besides Peter and Ned to an extent.
"Flash." MJ warned. Peter was watching from the crook of his elbow. His spidey sense was quiet, so he wasn't expecting a fight to break out, but he wasn't taking chances.
"Relax," Flash said. Reaching out, he snatched the remote from a stiff-looking Betty's hands. She let out a noise of disagreement, but only got halfway through reaching for the remote before she heaved a sigh, throwing her hands into the air. Flash snickered, making his way back to his own seat and sitting in the same position he was just in- feet on the desk and all. With a very exaggerated motion, making sure eyes were on the remote he now claimed, he waved his arm in the television's direction, pressing play as he did so.
"There you have it, folks: conclusive proof that Spider-Man was responsible for the brutal murder of Mysterio! An interdimensional warrior who gave his life to protect our planet, and who will no doubt go down in history as the greatest superhero of all time. But that's not all, folks. Here's the real blockbuster. Brace yourselves, you might wanna sit down."
Peter jolted in his seat, sitting up straight. A few odd looks were sent in his direction, but that wasn't what he was worried about. No, he was more focused on his spidey sense suddenly going haywire. Ned met his eyes worriedly, and he knew his sudden distress wore on his face vividly.
The screen clipped back to Mysterio, glitchier than ever. "Spider-Man's real-" it cut off as the screen glitched again, drawing a few groans from the students. Peter, however- Peter's heart dropped into his stomach. He grasped at the phone in his pocket with shaky hands. It collided with his desk with an ugly thud as he dropped it (a few of the students jumped at that; Peter ignored it).
"Spider-Man's real name is P-" again, it glitched out, but this time cut to black. "Spider-Man's real name is Peter Parker!"There was a brief, momentary silence as the students stared at the incriminating school photo of Peter. A photo, mind you, that Peter was certain he'd never taken nor seen in his life. He wasn't a very private person by any means, but he had no true reason to go out taking selfies beyond school photos, and that was definitely not one he's taken.
What the fuck.
"What the fuck?" Flash roared, breaking out into obnoxious laughter. "Puny Parker? This whole thing's a big joke, but that's gotta be the biggest joke of 'em all!"
"Shut the fuck up, Flash." MJ warned, but her eyes were on Peter- Peter, who was slouching over his desk, fumbling to unlock his phone. She didn't know how much of that video was true, and she didn't know how they found out, but everything about his identity? As far as she was concerned, true.
"Don't tell me what to do," Flash retorted, spinning to look at her. "You can't tell me for one second you actually believe Penis is Spider-Man. He'd die immediately!"
MJ was silent.
"Pretty pathetic to stage something like this, Parker. I'm almost impressed; who knew you had the balls to go this far to get attention."
Ned shot him a sour look. "Peter wouldn't make something like this! You just want any excuse to shit on him."
"Oh my god, wait," Cindy's voice broke the argument, "Guys. In DC, Peter wasn't with-" her voice broke.
Betty caught on, eyes widening. "Oh my god."
"No! No, no, I was sick in DC, remember?" Peter stuttered, causing the rest of them to notice he'd stopped fiddling with his phone momentarily, staring at them with wide eyes. "Flash is right, I couldn't be Spider-Man. I don't know who made the video, but-"
"Peter." Abe made his way over to the teen, shutting him up with a hand on his shoulder. "You just said Flash is right. Everything that came before and after that is automatically wrong." ("Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!" Flash crowed; he was unanimously ignored.)
"I'm not Spider-Man."
"Okay." Abe responded, giving his shoulder another pat.
"Okay?"
"Mhmm."
Peter eyed the teen distrustfully, not at all taking the one word answer and noncommittal hum as anyone acquiescing to his defenses.
"No, not okay," Cindy exclaimed, "Peter, all of those absences? Skipping decathlon? Were you really out there fighting criminals the entire time?"
He almost felt bad at how distressed she looked. As if him putting himself in danger upset her, somehow. "No." Peter snapped. "I have asthma, remember? Spider-Man doesn't."
"I haven't seen you use an inhaler since around when Spider-Man first appeared." MJ stated. Peter turned to her incredulously, mouth thinning into a frown; she raised a single eyebrow in response. "Again, not obsessed, just observant."
"Isn't that a good thing? Not having asthma attacks?" Peter's voice raised an octave, grasping at straws to defend himself.
Cindy hummed. "Sure, but the timing- Peter, you weren't one of those asthmatics that rarely had asthma attacks. You pretty much used to get them just by seeing dust in a video."
Forehead met desk rather loudly. Ned patted his friend's back sympathetically.
"You can't be Spider-Man. You literally cannot be." Flash said. Peter nodded in agreement, giving Cindy a pointed look.
"But…"
"But?!" Peter hissed. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. Flash looked defensive, squaring his shoulders and eyes becoming a lot more guarded. The bully shrugged, leg bouncing- he must've put his feet down at some point.
"You have to admit, Parker, your absences are really fucking suspicious." He pointed out. "I just thought you were a male escort, or something-"
"-a male escort-" Peter wheezed incredulously, mind short circuiting. He really shouldn't be surprised; a school full of smart ass teens was bound to think up some sort of weird excuse for his absences, but of all things they'd settled on that?. Peter wanted so badly to laugh, cry, lay down, and scream- not necessarily in that order, but definitely all of the above. His head pounded to the beat of his heart, as did the throbbing aches he'd tried so hard to not focus on.
"The only other option is you orchestrated this entire video for some weird nerd credit or popularity grab," Flash reminded with a sneer, but there was no energy behind it; like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince everyone else. Betty snorted, to which Cindy gave her a light smack on the arm.
From the back of the room, one of the braver students- Bethany, if he remembered correctly- chimed in, "Wasn't Peter's homecoming date's dad The Vulture?"
There was a brief moment of silence before the classroom erupted into a cacophony of noise again.
"That's why you ghosted Liz. Did her dad recognize you?"
"Flash's party!" another student stated, "Spider-Man made an appearance then, too. After Peter left."
There was a gasp. Quiet amongst the noise, but it still got attention. Everyone who wasn't currently staring Peter down with wide eyes turned to look at Betty. Betty levelled Peter a horrified stare, "You crashed a plane. Peter, you- you crashed a plane-"
That wasn't even the worst part, his mind supplied as he stared at his desk with wide eyes. Peter wouldn't have been able to respond if he had wanted to. His words- countless denials, explanations, assurances, anything- stuck in his throat, his chest constricting. Questions and statements were being thrown at him from so many different people. To say it was overwhelming was putting it mildly. His mind buzzed as it attempted to filter out the sheer amount of noise he was being bombarded by, his hearing growing fuzzier in waves. The signs of an oncoming panic attack slash sensory overload were distinct- not to mention his spidey sense hadn't completely quieted (suppose having at least an entire school of kids know your identity meant at least a few people had ill intentions toward him and were in rather close proximity; the thought almost made him curl into a ball)- and he couldn't help but think he'd rather be anywhere else in the world than this classroom- this building- this situation. He needed to get out of here- to get someone to help control the situation- to just be able to breath. Sooner rather than later.
"Okay, sure, fine," Peter slammed his hand on his desk, causing absolute silence. "Believe whatever you want to. I don't have to be here for this." He stood, his seat clattering to the floor as he did so. He swung his backpack onto his shoulder, grabbing only his phone and ignoring the mess of papers his desk had become during all of this, physics homework forgotten.
"Peter!" Mrs. Warren appeared in the doorway, looking out of breath- as though she'd run from whatever printing room she'd been in back to her own. She probably did, Peter eyed her warily, holding his breath.
The aged woman straightened herself up, catching her breath for a few painful seconds. The tension that grew in those seconds was so thick, Peter imagined it could be cut with a butterknife. Mrs. Warren cleared her throat, to which Peter shifted his weight on his feet to lean more to his left.
"Principal Morita would like to speak to you."
Peter's heart stopped for a moment. Mrs. Warren continued on as if she hadn't just personally condemned the teen to some ungodly fate.
"As for the rest of you, the school's on modified hold-in-place with that, uh, unexpected broadcast; we can't have students leaving their classrooms to flock…" she gave Peter a side look, "well. Just.. stay out of the halls. Peter, go."
Peter screamed internally. When I said I needed out of here, this wasn't what I meant! His feet felt cemented to the floor as he opted to stare despairingly at his teacher, hoping she'd sense his distress. She didn't; Mrs. Warren moved into the room, clearing the doorway for Peter to slip through- which he didn't. He looked back to the television, letting his gaze linger on his picture before Mrs. Warren blocked the view. The teacher lifted the remote she'd rightfully reclaimed from Flash, turning the screen off with a click that echoed in Peter's ears.
"Wait, Miss-" a normally quiet, shy kid spoke up. They stuttered as the teacher turned toward them, and another continued for them.
"You can't expect to send Peter away after all of that," Bethany groaned, "I mean, none of us are gonna focus on our work now. Can't Principal Morita wait until after study hall?"
Mrs. Warren, to her credit, didn't back down under the wave of agreement and pleading stares sent from her class. "You're not fighting me on this. No; hopefully without further distraction you can use the rest of this period wisely- and it's exactly the best time for Peter to travel in the halls without issue. Speaking of," Peter flinched as her focus returned to him, "what are you still doing here? Go."
Peter raised his hands placatingly, almost robotically backing out of the door. He was equally terrified, nauseous, and yet glad to get out of that room filled with rapid fire questions and curious classmates. The mix of extreme opposites in emotion was finally settling into an oddly numb feeling, and he hated it. Thankfully, Mrs. Warren seemed to have been telling the truth about the modified hold-in-place, as the normally student-ridden hall of early morning study period was blissfully empty. It was kind of surreal, if he was being honest.
The teen took a few stuttered breaths now that he had the peace to do so, making it halfway down the hallway before stopping to lean against a locker. Phone in hand, he raised it to eye-level, clicking it on to see the half-written text message he'd been attempting to get out before his classmates had bombarded him. The words were fairly panicked; typos ran rampant, and in any other circumstance he'd have cared. In a distant, zoned out moment he finished up typing the message he'd started, sending it shortly thereafter.
A student in the classroom across the hall from him made some sort of squawk-like noise behind the glass pane in the door, to which Peter grimaced and pushed away from the lockers, beating it quickly down the hall.