Content Warning for this chapter: This chapter does contain depictions of self harm. It's not graphic, but it is there and it is sad. Be warned.

"Peter, honey, you're not eating your ice cream."

Peter looked at the delicious treat that was laid out in front of him. He glanced at his Auntie May, who had a face scorned with concern and sorrow.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Auntie." Peter then slowly started to pick at his treat. It was a gloomy summer day. It was overcast and the man on the tv said it was going to rain that day. He was in an ice cream parlor. It had a certain classic feel to it. Sitting across the booth was his auntie and uncle, which both looked so sad. Peter had his head hung low, but it was up enough for him to bring the spoon to his mouth.

"Hey, kiddo, why don't we watch Aladdin when we get back home, huh?" Uncle Ben said in an attempt to liven up the mood.

Peter began to play with his treat. "No, it's okay." His spoon kept moving the ice cream in circles. An endless loop until he decided to put a stop to it. He'd just been to the doctor. It was his yearly check-up. It was supposed to be a good day. His fifth birthday was only two days ago, and that was a good day. Today was supposed to be a good day. However, something ruined it. Droplets of salty tears started to form in Peter's eyes. Why was he like this? Was he cursed? Why did it seem like the universe was out to get him? Did he do something wrong? His vision began to blur from the heavy flow of tears and his nose clogged up with mucus.

"Auntie May? Uncle Ben?" he choked. He slowly lifted his head up, he couldn't bear the shame he felt within him. He tried to look them in the eyes but he couldn't, he just couldn't. "Why am I quirkless?" he sobbed. "Why am I quirk-"

"-less?" Peter felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through his body and he quickly sat up from his lying position. He found himself in an unfamiliar location. Everything was sterile and white. The bed he was lying in felt rough, but still gave some sense of comfort. His head was throbbing in pain. He put his hand on his forehead. "Am... am I dead?" he muttered.

"If you were, then I've been doing a crappy job."

The voice startled Peter out of his daze. He looked to his left to see a woman he'd never seen before. She was dressed in a white long coat, glasses, and a little badge that read: "Claire Temple, Doctor". She was writing on her clipboard. "Mornin' sleepyhead."

"Umm…"

The doctor looked up from her clipboard. "What?"

"Wh-who are you?" Peter blinked.

"Claire Temple, resident Doctor at the Avengers Academy Hospital Ward," she stated matter-of-factly.

What, I'm in the hospital?!

"You went into a syncopal episode, fell and hit your head on the ground, no bleeding though, so that's great. We took a blood test and everything seems norm-"

"Woah woah woah, back up." Peter waved his hands. "I fainted?!"

The doctor cocked an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you know what syncope means," she commented, "But yes, you fainted. Specifically from a spider bite." She gestured to Peter's right hand.

Peter gasped as he looked at the back of his right hand. There were two small teeth marks and a giant bump. He almost fainted again.

"I… I'm not…"

"No, miraculously there wasn't any poison delivered. Your blood came back perfectly normal."

Oh, thank God… Peter sighed and hung his head. His memory was still covered in a deep dark fog. He held his head and shook it. "Doctor Temple-"

"Just call me Claire."

Peter was taken aback by this statement. Isn't the stereotype that doctors want to be called 'doctor'?

"... Claire. What happened when I was unconscious?"

Claire's gaze returned to her clipboard. "Your friend screamed for help and got the attention of Dr. Banner. He picked you up and rushed you up here."

Peter jumped up onto his knees, a sudden burst of energy rushed through him. "I was held by the Hulk?!"

Claire backed up a bit, surprised by the sudden outburst. She readjusted her glasses and gave a light laugh. "You're quite the hero fanboy aren't you?"

As it is guaranteed that the sun will rise in the east, Peter's face turned crimson with embarrassment. "I uh, wanna be one." He scratched the back of his head.

"So do a lot of kids, but since you're quirkless, it adds more desperation, doesn't it?"

Peter was taken by surprise by this. She read him so easily. Did she have a quirk? Was her quirk about knowing what a person is like just by looking at them? "That's so cool! Can I write this down? That's such a neat concept for a quirk. You could know exactly what's wrong with a patient and act accordingly! I need to write this do-"

"Oh, by the way, your uncle's on the way to pick you up."

Claire's words were a giant hammer to Peter's wall of muttering.

"Also, I don't have a quirk," she added.

Peter started to sweat bullets. His heart started to pound like a jackhammer, and his body started to shake faster than Pietro when he tried to convince him that he could phase through solid objects. "Uncle Ben's coming here?! B-but he's supposed to be at work!" he sputtered. "J-just let me go home! He doesn't have to pick me up…"

Claire sighed and rubbed her temples. "Yes, yes he does. Under federal law, a minor, you, cannot be discharged from the hospital, here," she said as she circled her arm around the room while pointing. "Unless a parent or guardian, your uncle, signs a legally binding paper that states that you have been discharged from said hospital."

Peter shook his head in desperation. "No no no no you don't understand. Uncle Ben works a nine-to-five job, it's really strict over there and even though Uncle Ben's a veteran, they barely let anybody just drop their shifts even for family and and and-"

Suddenly Peter heard a vibration coming from a corner of the room, where the cabinet for patient belongings was stored. He then got out of his bed. His legs wobbled beneath him. It had been a while since he walked.

"Oh, you can walk, that's good," Claire added while writing on her clipboard.

Peter opened up the cabinet and saw all of his clothes folded neatly, and his phone and glasses laid on top of the pile. He snatched them both and turned the phone on immediately.

"I can see your ass, by the way, hospital gowns do a really crappy job of covering stuff."

Peter let out a small, "Yipe!" and covered his full moon. "Y-you coulda told me that earlier!"

"Yeah, I could've."

Peter grunted. So that's why it felt really airy in here. Peter walked back to his cot; this is when Peter finally noticed the heavy bags under Claire's eyes. She must not get a lot of sleep. He hopped into his cot, making sure that he stayed modest as he did, and turned on his screen. He saw a variety of messages:

Wanda Maximoff :P (2:35 PM, 32 messages): Please please message me, I really hope you're alright.

Pietro Maximoff (2:36 PM): Sis is kind of a stalker amirite? Message us when you wake up big guy, worried for ya.

Uncle Ben (2:40 PM): Hey son, I'm 5 minutes away, okay? Stay tight, I love you.

After Peter read the message from his Uncle, he wanted to scream out to the heavens. Uncle Ben needed to work; make money so that he can support the family. This can't happen, it just can't. He felt breath on his shoulder. He turned his head to his right to see that Claire's chin was resting on his shoulder, sneaking looks at his phone. He then jerked his phone away and sat on it. "Hey, no peeking!"

Claire pushed herself from the cot and the rolling chair carried her a bit of a way away from the cot. "Your girlfriend's pretty clingy, you should watch your back."

Peter rolled his eyes. "She's not my girlfriend," he snapped. "She's just my friend."

A sly grin climbed itself onto Claire's features. "Uh-huh, sure."

Eventually Uncle Ben arrived at the hospital ward and Peter was discharged, free to go home. Uncle Ben and Peter had to book it to the car since he put only enough money in the parking meter for twenty minutes. Once in the car, Peter stood silent. A mix of emotions swirled within him like a ravaging hurricane. He was sad, frustrated, angry, and depressed all at once. He didn't want to talk to Uncle Ben. Peter basically demanded him to drop him off at the subway station so he could get back to work as soon as possible.

Uncle Ben took a look at his nephew. Peter sat on an angle where his whole body was facing away from him. His head was tilted and rested on the window. It despaired him so much to see Peter in such a bad mood. He thought back to when Peter was born. He was so excited for his brother, Richard, and his sister-in-law, Mary. They'd been trying for years to have a child, and when Peter was born, he saw this spark in their eyes. He knew Peter was something special, a boy that could lighten up any room he's in just by talking about what he loves. Uncle Ben kept his eyes on the road, but he couldn't help but attempt to get Peter in a better mood.

"Hey, Pete, when I get home tonight, why don't we watch It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World? I'll have May make us some chocolate shakes and you can invite Pietro and Wanda over. We can make a whole thing out of it!"

Peter sighed. "No, it's okay."

Uncle Ben eyed Peter. He knew something was up. "Son, are you okay? What's bothering you? Is it the camera? May and I can get you a new one."

Peter always hated it when he called him "son". It meant that he was worried about him, and he was trying to connect with him. Even though Uncle Ben couldn't possibly understand what Peter was feeling. However, he knew he couldn't hide things from him for long. He always finds out one way or another.

"N-no! Don't get me a new one, please. It's just that I… I didn't want to pull you away from work. The hospital should've let me go home," Peter said in a low sad voice.

"Peter," Uncle Ben sighed, "You know that I'd do anything for you, right?"

Peter bumped his head against the window. "I told you to stop that," Uncle Ben scolded.

"Sorry," Peter mumbled, "I just… I just don't like taking you away from your responsibilities, I guess."

"Responsibilities? Peter... my responsibility is you. Providing for you. Raising you. Teaching you. Taking care of you."

Peter shook his head. "But I pulled you away from work. Don't you have a responsibility there too? One that's a lot more important than me..." Peter trailed off.

Uncle Ben suddenly pulled over to an open space on the side of the road and put the car in park. He drew in a hefty sigh and turned to look at Peter.

"Peter, look at me," Uncle Ben said. Peter turned his head to see Uncle Ben looking at him dead in the eye. He knew what this meant. He was going to get a speech.

"Peter, you are my greatest responsibility okay? When May and I took you in, I knew what that meant. I knew that I had to be the best parent, guardian, whatever there is for you. I had to be. I had to do it for Richard and Mary, but most importantly I had to do it for you. Yeah, I have to go to work and yes, doing well at work, going to work, etc. is my responsibility. But you are my greatest responsibility. Making sure that you grow up into a fine young man. Picking you up from crazy situations like these. Protecting you. Also, supporting whatever you want to be. You still wanna be a hero?"

"Yeah..." Peter blushed in embarrassment.

Uncle Ben let out a small chuckle. "That's a big responsibility to take on, Peter, but I know you can pull it off. You're a smart kid. With enough gusto, you can do anything. Now, don't say you're not important ever again, okay? You're already my hero, alright?"

"O-okay Uncle Ben," Peter stammered, "I love you."

Uncle Ben smiled and patted Peter on the shoulder. "I love you too. Now let's get you to the train station okay?"

Uncle Ben then put the car into drive and looked over to his blind spot to see if any cars were coming. Peter went back and laid his head on the window. He could hear the mumblings of his Uncle as there were no decent spots to pull out into the street. He laughed silently at the nonsensical words that were spoken from his Uncle's mouth.

"Jeez, finally," stated Uncle Ben.

Peter then felt the car start to move. Then out of nowhere, a horrible migraine hit Peter like a truck. Time slowed down as he felt this excruciatingly weird tingly feeling running through his head and his body. He felt extreme paranoia and a sense of immediate danger.

Look out.

"Uncle Ben!"

"What's wrong?!" Uncle Ben exclaimed, whipping his head around to face Peter.

Without warning, a speeding pick-up truck came rushing past the car, honking its horn as it passed.

"Woah!" exclaimed Uncle Ben, turning his head back towards the road. "I... I didn't even see him," Uncle Ben muttered, "Saved us another doctor's visit. Good eye, kid." He gave a hearty laugh.

Peter let out a nervous chuckle, "Y-yeah, r-right..." Peter was sitting stiff as a board at this point. That's the thing though; Peter never saw the truck coming. He just felt this overwhelming feeling of danger and decided to act on it. What the hell was that? was his thought as Uncle Ben finally pulled onto the street and started to drive again.

The rest of the car ride was blanketed in a kind silence. The talk had been made, love had been reaffirmed, but Peter was struggling inside yet again. If something seemed off, he couldn't just let it go. Uncle Ben had this trait too. "The Parker Paranoia" he called it. That migraine wasn't normal. It felt like I was having an aura.

Uncle Ben dropped Peter off at the train station. When he boarded his train, he pulled out his phone. He wanted to research the phenomena that he had just experienced. Quickly he realized that he never texted Pietro and Wanda, and that there were 30 new messages from her.

"Oh, shit."

Peter was bummed to find out that his regular stop, the Queens Station, was closed due to the earlier Villain attack by the Sandman. Pretty basic name, if I gotta be honest. So he had to get off one stop early and huff it the rest on foot.

It took fourteen minutes of apologizing to Wanda, but eventually, he got through to her. Apparently, nobody found out about the fight between Flash and Pietro. Peter internally groaned as he could already imagine the amount of bragging about how he was totally going to win the fight. Peter shot a text to Wanda saying that he'd gotten off of the train and that he'd see her when he gets home. As Peter was walking down the sidewalk, he spotted a beautiful lone flower in the middle of a desecrated lot. Police tape withheld entrance to the lot, thick sheets of glass covered the perimeter, and there were two signs: one had the radiation symbol and one said, "Area Quarantined by Damage Control."

This is where the Radioactive Man was arrested last week, he thought.

Villain attacks have become a common occurrence in society ever since the Quirk Boom in the 1960s. It wouldn't be too unusual for an entire block to be destroyed, there were government programs and agencies such as Damage Control that helped get common people and communities back onto their feet.

Peter reached into his backpack to grab his camera, only to remember the fate of his most sentimental possession. He hung his head in sadness once again and he continued on his way, he didn't even want to take a picture with his phone, he just didn't want to do anything at the moment. He was tired, his head ached, his legs felt wobbly, he just wanted to go home.

As Peter continued walking his mind flashbacked to that horrible day, the day he found out he was quirkless. He recalled the doctor's harsh words to him, the tightness in his chest, the pain in his throat from crying so much, he recalled everything. Today was the anniversary, he wanted to wipe away the horrible memory by making new ones at Avengers Academy. However, as his luck would have it, today might just have been the worst day of all time.

He came across a small tunnel, he stopped and sighed. He lost all of the pictures he took today, the SD card either was smashed or was lost. Why? Why me? Peter has asked this question many times, but he never got an answer. He just felt like he was the unluckiest boy alive. Tears started to well up in his eyes as they usually do. Peter was always taught that crying is a healthy thing, but other times Aunt May felt like it was a mistake to tell him that. Peter cried so much that Pietro sometimes joked that crying was Peter's secret quirk. Usually when he'd say that he'd trip and fall on his face courtesy of Wanda's Hex.

His chest started to tighten as the intense emotion of sadness filled him like water pouring into a cup. His vision became blurry due to the tears. Then, he put his back against the wall of the entrance to the tunnel, knelt down, hugged his knees to his chest, hid his face, and cried. I'm so useless. Memories of Flash's name-calling ran through his mind. Every day he suffered. Whether it was Flash, life, or even himself, Peter's days were filled with sadness and depression. Sure there were days where his family and friends would cheer him up, but that could only do so much, and it was all because of his body. His blood. His DNA. It was all because of him. Because of himself, he could never be who he wanted to be. He could never become a hero. He couldn't fly, he couldn't punch through walls, shoot lightning from his fingertips, nothing. All he could do was what everyone else could already do, and that made him feel absolutely horrible.

His breath became irregular and he started to hit himself on the head. "I'm so stupid." He hit the wall behind him, pain stung his balled-up fist. "Nothing ever goes right." He pulled his hair. "I'm a damn failure." He started to scratch his wrists. "Nobody loves me." He flung his head and bumped the wall behind him. "I want to die!" he screamed. His head then started to throb with pain, and he kept muttering, "I'm so worthless," over and over again. He cried harder and small sobs and whines escaped his mouth. Even though nobody was around, he didn't want his pain to be noticeable. Nobody should know that he's hurting, not his family, not his friends, not his teachers, not his therapist, not God, not anybody. His head started to hurt more and more. His arm hair stood straight up. Why can't I be normal? Why can't I have a quirk? Why was I born wrong? Why am I curs-

"Excuse me."

Peter jolted back to his feet when he heard the voice coming deeper from the tunnel. Peter's eyesight was still blurry from the crying, but he could see the vague figure of a man standing a few meters from him.

"O-oh," Peter stammered, "I'm sorry about that." Peter's head started to hurt even more now, and his legs started to wobble beneath him. What the hell?

"No, child, it's okay." The stranger's voice sounded odd to Peter as if it was a corrupted sound file on a computer. "I was just trying to find my way home. Do you know where I am?"

Peter kept wiping his eyes. "Yeah, actually, you're in Queens." A chill ran up and down Peter's spine. What's happening?

The stranger let out a small laugh. "Good, good, and what time is it?"

Peter looked down at his phone. "It's 3:23 PM, sir." A small voice yelled in Peter's head. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN.

"How excellent!" the stranger exclaimed, "Everyone's still at work now, yes?"

Peter still couldn't see the stranger, his eyes were no longer blurry, but he was still shrouded in the darkness of the tunnel. A foul stench caught the attention of Peter's nose. "Jeez!" He then held his nose. "Um, yeah they still should be."

RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN, the voice kept screaming. His eyes widened as he remembered this feeling. This feeling of paranoia. Of imminent danger. The feeling that he was going to die. Peter took a step back and lengthened the distance between him and the stranger. "Well, sir, I hope you find your way home, have a good day."

He turned around and started to walk. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER. His leg was snagged by something mid-step and Peter fell to the ground. "What the..?" He looked to his leg and his heart jumped into his throat when he saw it being held by a red tendril. "Oh no." Peter's gaze followed the tendril back to the tunnel, and, more horrifyingly, back to the stranger.

The stranger began to speak once more. "Oh, don't go! We haven't even learned each other's names yet!" The voice transformed into something much more demonic with each passing word.

Peter felt himself slowly starting to slide across the tough old concrete ground towards the stranger. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RU-

"I'll start!" The stranger's face became much clearer, however, one would be mistaken if you could even call it a face. It had no eyes, but it had giant white angular white splotches where eyes should be. It did have a mouth, it looked familiar to Peter, and that made him realize who currently had him in its grasp. It was jagged, the teeth were long and black, it was a symbiote's mouth. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN.

"My name is Carnage, and we're going to be best friends!" The creature cackled a hellish laugh. Peter grasped at the ground around him to try to get away, but it was in vain. More tendrils came from Carnage, wrapped around his throat, arms, and remaining leg, and pulled him into the darkness of the tunnel.

Peter screams for help were cut off from another tendril wrapping itself around Peter's mouth. Carnage put its long finger up to its mouth and gave a chilling hush. "We can't have you ruining our playdate, human. You gotta help me, best friend." Peter was brought closer to the monster, his entire body shook violently, everything in his body told him to run, to get out of there, but he couldn't break free. "You see, I'm playing Cops and Robbers with another friend! I'm the robber and I need to hide. Best friend, I need to hide in your body."

No no no no no no no, this cannot be happening.

"I'm also…" Carnage's tongue escaped its mouth and traced Peter's face. Its saliva felt hot and slightly stung Peter's skin. Peter tried to let out a scream, a cry for help, anything, but he couldn't, he was paralyzed with fear. "Extremely hungry. My friend started to play with me in the middle of my dinner," the red demon cackled, "And you, best friend, are the perfect replacement for my dinner."

A giant tendril shot out of Carnage's body. forced its way into Peter's mouth, and slithered its way into his body. Peter's whole body was on fire, he was in so much pain, and his head won't stop hurting. Am I dying? Is this it?

"Thank you, best friend, you're a real hero."

Peter's life flashed before his eyes, his first memory, his birthdays, meeting Flash and Wanda, watching movies with Uncle Ben and Aunt May, the day he found out he was quirkless, the day that Flash beat him up for the first time, his Aunt and Uncle hugging him and crying because of something he said, every memory started to get sadder and sadder. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't want to die. Not like this. I need to be a hero. Peter's looked at his hero notebook which laid upon the ground, it was opened at Iron Man's page. SOMEONE! PLEASE! SAVE ME!

Peter's vision started to fade, there was no light to go to, there was only the encroaching darkness that consumed everything. During what he thought were his final moments, he heard a loud clanging noise to his right. He heard someone say, "Man, I'm sure glad this suit has filters." He heard another voice screech in terror and say, "No! Not you! Let me have my din-!" Peter felt intense vibrations surround him, and then everything went dark.

Peter's eyes shot wide open. He looked at his surroundings and realized he was no longer in the tunnel, but he was at the park. He saw Flash standing over a boy he didn't know, and he was on the ground clutching his stomach in pain. Peter noticed how the boy was in pain and rushed to his side. Peter turned to Flash, he noticed that he had a distinct smile on his face.

Peter called out to him. "Flash, what happened to him?"

Flash only chuckled to himself and shook his head. The boy groaned in pain, and Peter's attention went back to him.

"Flash, you have to get an adult," Peter said, "He's really hurt." Peter looked at the boy, his skin was pale as a sheet, but his hair was a fiery red. His clothes were expensive-looking, a green vest, a white shirt, and dark pants. His face was bruised and beaten. "It's okay, we're gonna get help and-"

"Why are you helping him, Wall-Crawler?"

Peter snapped his head back to Flash, an annoyed look was painted on his face.

"Look at him. He's weak."

Peter's eyes widened, why was Flash acting like this? Peter's gaze was drawn to Flash's knuckles: they were red. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. "Flash… did you hurt him?"

Flash only grimaced.

"Flash, answer me. Did you hu-"

"-rt? Hey kid, wake up! You good?"

Peter felt something cold cup his cheek, it felt metallic.

DANGER!

Then, he felt that same cold metallic object smack him across the face.

"Oh shut up, Friday, the Hulk woke me up with an Earth-shattering roar. This kid can handle a love tap to the face."

F...Friday? Peter could only see darkness, due to the fact that his eyes were still closed. He could hear a voice, but it sounded robotic and static. However, it sounded familiar. He knew that name: Friday. His mind was still clouded by a thick fog.

"I can't just leave him here, just because I purged the Symbiote from him doesn't mean I should just leave him here. He's just a kid."

I definitely know that voice. Wait… is that-?! Peter interrupted his own thought by opening his eyes. However, the light from the afternoon sun blinded him as he threw his hands up to cover his eyes.

"Oh, good, he's awake."

Peter heard the sound of heavy footsteps that came from his left. Along with the footsteps, sounds of mechanical whirring and clanging came with it. Peter put down his shielding hands, and his eyes readjusted to the light. On his left stood a man, clad in red and yellow armor. Various blue lights lined the crevices, and a glowing blue triangle adorned the man's chest. A mask covered the man's face, the eyes glowed the same blue light as in the crevices and the triangle on the chest. Peter's jaw dropped in utter disbelief, he was in the presence of the most popular hero in the world.

The man clad in red and yellow armor knelt down to meet Peter eye to eye. "Hey, you okay, kid?"

Peter's entire body went numb. His mouth quivered in excitement. The earth stood still. Time stopped and all he could hear was the flow of his own blood in his veins. His mouth started to spout incoherent nonsense. "I-I-I-I-" he stammered.

The man tilted his helmet in a curious disposition. "You what, kid?"

"Iron Man?!" Peter screeched while pointing at him.

Iron Man then dashed hurriedly towards Peter and covered his mouth. "Pipe down, kid! Do you know how hard it is to escape rabid fans?!"

Peter's whole body shook as he realized that the real Iron Man is telling him to shut his trap. This is so amazing! Peter slowly nodded his head, and Iron Man then released his grip on his mouth.

This turned out to be a bad idea, however, Peter didn't start screaming again. Instead, he started to mutter.

"So do you actually have a quirk or not it's been a debate for years and years and you've been really shady when you have to talk about it and that's fine 'cuz it's your own personal life and all but I really really would like to know 'cuz I have this notebook here see and let me open up to your page and oh wow you actually signed it oh my God oh my God this is amazing I'll treasure this forever it'll be hung up in the living room oh wow oh wow you're so amazing and..."

"Woah, this kid literally has nothing better to do does he?" Iron Man mumbled under his breath. Peter's onslaught of words was getting on Iron Man's and Friday's nerves, and Friday didn't even have nerves to get on. Iron Man needed to stop this before Peter passed out. "Alright, alright, calm down," he said while waving his hands. "Are you feeling okay? No voices? No sudden urge to consume human flesh?"

Peter flinched when Iron Man suddenly interrupted his air strike of word vomit. Then, he shook his head. Iron Man then let his arms hang and sighed in relief. "Awesome," he said as he turned his back on Peter. "Don't worry about Carnage, he's secure and sedated in a special compartment in the suit." After he said this, he lightly tapped his gauntlet on his left hand. Iron Man then turned his head slightly in Peter's direction. Peter could only see a bit of the mask, specifically the glowing eye and a bit of the face. "You know your way home, kid?"

Peter only made a small sound in response.

"Beautiful."

Peter was at an impasse. There he was, standing behind the most popular hero of all time, and he was basically told to be quiet. He couldn't even make a sound any more. All he could do is look onward. He reached out his hand when Iron Man turned his back. He was leaving him that quick? A signature, a few basic questions, and that's it? No questions about himself? Nothing? Peter didn't even care that he almost died only minutes ago, he just felt so heavy. As if a heavy rock was tied together by steel and was stuffed in his heart. Was this a hero's life? Was this Iron Man's true self? Was he wrong about everything?

"Alright, kid." The distinct sound of exhaust and flames started to emanate from Iron Man. "Go home, okay? Your parents are probably worried sick about 'ya. Oh, and if you do start feeling particularly cannibal-ly, call the Avengers hotline. We'll deal with it immediately." The sound of engines began to intensify and Iron Man was shot into the sky by the rockets built in his boots, and palms.

Tony Stark sighed as he began his flight, he didn't have much time left. He just had to get Carnage to the Raft, charge up there, and get home. He was really taking one a little too close to the chest by being out so long. Carnage was a crafty bastard and a quick one as well. No wonder why he'd been on the run for more than thirty years.

"Boss, something's on your back," his in-suit AI, Friday said with the enthusiasm of a secretary on the last thirty minutes of her shift.

This made him panic a bit inside, was it a villain attack? Now? How did his sensors not pick up this object until it was already on his back?

"Putting up live-feed from the 'Hulk's-Hand-in-the-Cookie-Jar' camera," Friday stated.

The live feed showed up on the mask's UI, and Tony could not believe what he was seeing. It's that kid! How the hell?!

"Friday! Get him off my back!" he shouted.

There was a long pause of silence, and even though the suit blocked off all sounds from the outside world, he could faintly hear the screaming of the kid that was clung to his back.

"Are you an idiot, boss? Look where we're flying over right now."

Tony's visor then switched to standby mode, a mode which is used when no action is happening. He then saw that he was high above the streets of Manhattan and realized why dropping a child from this height would be very bad for his public image.

Tony sighed and he looked back at the kid who was still hanging on. He was slightly disturbed by the g-forces at work doing a number on the poor boy's face, and told him specifically to keep his head down. Once that he saw the boy followed his order, he held the kid's head and gave it a little pressure to hold it in place with his left hand, a precaution that if the kid was stupid enough to raise his head and let his neck be at the mercy of the laws of physics.

"Boss, power level is currently at 3%. You have to hurry," Friday stated urgently, "We have to get this kid to safety soon."

Easier said than done, Tony thought. He couldn't just drop the kid off at street level, it would take too much power to get back at a respectable altitude and fly the rest of the way. He had to drop him off at a building. A smaller one though. Suddenly, Tony felt extremely weak. His body started to become extremely stiff, and his breathing started to slow and become labored.

Shit.

"You know, you didn't have to do that to him, Flash."

Flash shot a disapproving glare at his friend, Kenny Kong. He was a bit on the plus side which made him ideal for the school's football team. He did well enough in school to qualify for sports but he wasn't exceptionally bright. He was also born quirkless, which made life a bit difficult for him socially, but he was well respected among his peers for even going toe-to-toe with other quirked students in football. He's not a mean person by any means; he doesn't go out of his way to torment or bully people who he deems below him. However, maybe he doesn't get on anyone's bad side because he thinks he can't stand up to them. Usually after school Flash and Kenny go downtown and find a nice alley that they can bunker down in and drink some booze in secret.

"You could've gotten suspended," he said, putting his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall behind him.

Flash exhaled from his nose in annoyance. He took a swift swig of his 40, his face scrunched up as he felt the alcohol burn his throat and the pungent taste assaulted his taste buds, he let out a breath of relief, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. That was a lot stronger than I thought. He tossed the bottle to Kenny, who in turn caught it and took a swig himself. "But I didn't, right? So nothing bad happened."

"Bro, he fainted…"

"So?"

"He coulda gotten hurt!"

Flash scoffed at him. "Nah, that round-faced bitch caught him before he hit the ground. And he was just overreacting anyway. It's just a camera."

"Uh, no she didn't! He hit his head!" Kenny exclaimed.

Flash shrugged in indifference.

"Come on du-"

"Listen, Ken, the Wall-Crawler is in over his head." Flash walked up to Kenny and snagged the bottle from him. "Imagine that Parker is this bottle, okay? What would happen if I chucked it at the wall there?" Flash asked as he pointed behind him.

"It would break…?" Kenny answered, not sure where Flash was going with this metaphor.

"Yup, it would break into a million little pieces and the alcohol inside would spill out. The bottle is gone and it failed it's task to hold the booze. It can't even be recycled."

"I don't see how that…"

"But, if I, let's say…" Suddenly, Flash's arm became covered with the symbiote, and Flash's hand grew claws at the end of his fingers. He then took the bottle with his hand and cracked the top of it off. All that was left on the top was the craggily pattern of broken glass. "Did that. Yeah the top's broken off, but look, the alcohol is still there. It can also be recycled into something else."

"That was 30 man!" Kenny shouted, "Do you know how expensive it is to get booze as a minor?!"

Flash put his finger to his mouth. "Irrelevant, and pipe down will 'ya?! I'm not lookin' to get an underage drinking mark on my record. I'm aiming for the big shots, y'here?" Flash then sighed. "Look, basically, if that idiot somehow gets into a hero school, he's going to get slaughtered. By a teacher, classmate, or even a villain if he ever gets that far. Apparently, I'm the only one man enough to put him in his place and teach him a lesson." Flash shook his head and slumped against the wall. "It's how I learned."

Flash heard a "'Tch" come from Kenny. "You got a problem, Kong?"

"Yeah, maybe I do."

Flash stood up, a blood vessel started to make itself visible on his forehead. "Well, please then, tell me a better idea. If 'ya have one."

Kenny stood up too, matching Flash's deadly gaze with his own. "How about this: leave him alone. It's his life. If he's quirkless and wants to be a hero, then let him. You're not obligated to stop his dream, no matter how unattainable it is. He ain't your responsibility, and maybe your method of literally crushing his dreams isn't really all that good."

"What do you know?" Flash spat. "Isn't it a hero's job to stop deaths from happening?"

"Yeah, but they don't usually send their saved civilians home with bruises that they caused. You're making excuses." Kenny crossed his arms. The two stared down each other, the menace of anger filled the air. More of Flash's symbiote crawled down his arm. Kenny noticed this, grunted, and shook his head. "Whatever, man. I'm going home. I expect 30 on my desk tomorrow."

Flash rolled his eyes. "And where the hell would I find 30?"

Kenny shrugged. "I dunno. Hold Parker upside down and shake the money out of him."

"Jesus Christ, Ken, I-"

Suddenly, Flash noticed that Kenny's eyes were wide. His mouth was ajarr ever so slightly and his bottom lip was quivering. Normally Flash would just write this behavior off as Kenny being Kenny, but there was something about his eyes. They were dilated, and they weren't looking at Flash. They were looking above him.

He could feel it. The atmosphere changed radically. Instead of the stench of anger, the smell of fear permeated everywhere. Flash didn't like this feeling. Not one bit. Something was behind him, and he did not want to turn around. His hand started to shake. He swallowed a lump down his throat. They both needed to get out of there. They both were in serious trouble.

"Ken," Flash whispered, "Run."

Red clouded Flash vision and a psychotic laugh pierced Flash's ears.

Peter had spent the last forty-five seconds coughing his lungs out. A common occurrence due to the fact that he had never been able to burp his entire life and he usually resorted to coughing up all of the gas in his stomach due to his horrible hiccups. However, this time it is because he was flying around at speeds that a human was never designed to be traveling at. That was so stupid.

"Kid, that was literally the stupidest thing I've ever seen someone do, and I work with Deadpool."

Peter sighed as he looked back at Iron Man. Again, his back was turned to him. He wasted time. He had this question. This question haunted him for ten whole years. Why didn't he ask this question earlier when he was ranting? Peter finally got back up on his two feet.

"Keep banging on the door until someone lets you down. After that, go straigh-"

"Wait a second!"

"No!" Iron Man's voice became stern, like a master scolding their dog. "I'm extremely busy, and I don't have time for fanboys an-"

"Can somebody become a hero, even if they don't have a quirk?!" Peter bellowed. He did it. He tossed the line into the pond.

Iron Man turned his head slightly in Peter's direction. "Kid, I…"

Peter kept his eyes closed. He couldn't bear to see the expression on Iron Man's face. Even though he had a mask on, he knew if he looked he would feel an intense wave of disapproval. He just knew it. When he realized that Iron Man didn't continue speaking, he stepped back in. "I wasn't born with a quirk, but I always wanted to be a hero. I've been picked on so much because of that. I can't run really fast or move things with my mind, but, I don't know. I just really want to save people. I just think … that's the coolest thing in the world. I want to be able to save the world with brimming confidence. Like you do. I don't want a reward. I don't really care about the money and fame. I just want to be there when someone falls to catch them right in the nick of time or rush in when some criminals rob a bank. I just want to help." Peter opened his eyes and lifted his head to his hero. "You know what I mean?"

But who Peter saw standing in Iron Man's place wasn't him. Who stood in his place was an incredibly anorexic man, with greying hair on his head and on his beard, and wearing a graphic t-shirt of two cartoon electrons telling a smart chemistry joke and baggy green-ish pants. Peter screamed in terror.

"Wh-what?! Who are you?! What happened to Iron Man?! You look like Tony Stark but…! Wait! You're an imposter! A fake! Some sort of off-brand Life Model Decoy?!" he babbled while pointing at the man.

The man hung his head and gave a deep, depressed, and frustrated sigh. "I am Iron Man, and 'off-brand Life Model Decoy'? That's pretty rude to say to someone, kid."

"No way," Peter gasped. He couldn't put his finger on why he knew, but hearing him talk assured him that the unusual looking man in front of him was indeed Tony Stark: The Invincible Iron Man. "You haven't shown your face in years. People were wondering if-"

"If I was dead?" Tony sat down and put his back against the short ledge behind him. "No, not yet… Well, technically yes."

Peter couldn't process this. Tony Stark wasn't huge or anything, but he was a six foot tall man who exhumed confidence by just standing in the room. Always dressed nice, cleaned up well, still considered attractive at an age where most models would be let go. The man sitting in front of him was pale, frail, his hair was thin, and his eyes looked sullen and tired. This was a man who looked like he gave up on life a long time ago, not the man who saves the world in a high-tech suit.

"Well, if you've seen me like this, I guess I'll just tell you." Tony grasped the bottom of his shirt and lifted. Peter flinched when he saw virtually a skeleton with skin wrapped around it. He didn't even have a belly to speak of. It was sucked in so far into his body. How did he even walk to put the suit on today? What caught Peter's eye, though, was the arc reactor nestled in his chest. Everyone knew the story about Tony Stark and his invention. However, Peter noticed that the veins around the chest piece itself were glowing multiple colors. A group of colors that seemed oddly familiar to him, but he didn't know why. "Five years ago, there was a battle, and I did a Hail Mary play to end it. I died. My heart stopped, but I was still conscious. I'm basically running on fumes right now." Tony then knocked on his chest piece, the famous Arc Reactor. "Because of my quirk, the energy that I absorbed during the battle is what is keeping me alive. If I use it I die. I charge the arc reactor on my off time, storing new energy so I don't have to use this special energy that's inside of me. It's built to run on a 1% charge for a day, but when I use the suit it drains fast."

Peter's mind flipped through its imaginary pages to find the event that he was talking about. "Was it the fight against the U-Foes? They really messed you and Cap up…"

"Those D-Lister lowlifes?" Tony said dismissively. "No, it wasn't them. This battle had very little coverage. I made sure of it."

The thought of Tony Stark manipulating news coverage on a fight disturbed Peter, but that was a discussion for another day.

"The Invincible Iron Man should always remain, well, invincible. If word got out there that I'm functionally dead, people would lose hope. Sometimes I feel that I'm the only thing that's holding this world from destruction. I don't know if that's my ego talking or if it's true. That's why I wear the armor, kid. So people won't see that I'm terrified. That I'm human, just like the rest. Some people say I'm a symbol of peace. A man who rejected his war profiteering ways and decided to fight for the greater good of humanity. In reality, I'm just a scared and jaded old man who shouldn't even be alive."

Tony got up and walked towards a door that led to the stairs of the building that they were on. "Oh, and to answer your question."

Peter's ears perked up. His chest tightened with anticipation.

"I don't think a person without a quirk can be a hero, and before you say anything, Cap doesn't count. You have to be willing to lay yourself down on the barbed wire so your partner can crawl on top of you. Except the barbed wire is laced with poison and you don't have a healing factor. Also, the field that you're in is over two-hundred degrees Fahrenheit and you don't have a heat-resistance quirk. You'd just be killed. I'm sorry."

Peter's head hung low, and his eyes darkened with sadness. "Ah, I see," he whispered.

Tony opened the door, and sighed as he could practically feel Peter's sadness. "Listen, if you wanna be able to help you should be a first responder. It's a fine profession. New Yorkers love their Firefighters and Paramedics, you'd be doing a good thing. Also, I don't think I need to tell you this, but don't post what I said to you online, okay?"

Tony glanced back at Peter. He noticed the small tears running down his face, going down his neck, and seeping into the collar of his shirt. He hated being the bad guy. "But, I can tell that you won't. You look like a good kid." After he said this, he walked through the doorway and closed it behind him. He could faintly hear Tony ask Friday something about where she put Carnage's canister, but he honestly didn't care. He was now alone on a rooftop. Heartbroken.

Before Peter had time to sulk and cry about his situation, he heard a loud explosion, and saw people running out from an intersection. A villain attack?! Peter ran to the door to swing it open. It's not far. I should-

The memories of Tony Stark's word flew through his mind like a wasp circling around its victim to sting. Peter's grip on the handle loosened, and his shoulders hung. "Never mind," he whispered to himself. He opened the door and started to slowly walk down the stairs. Right now, he just wanted to go home.

Peter hit the streets and made his trek towards the station. What was he gonna tell Aunt May? If he told her, would he ever be allowed outside the house again? Would they have to start driving him to school so they can make sure he's safe? What was he gonna tell Wanda and Pietro? "Hey, by the way, on the way home I was attacked by the most infamous and deadly serial killer of the modern era. What game do you guys wanna play?" He could tell that whatever measures Aunt May and Uncle Ben would take to protect Peter, Pietro and Wanda's measures would be one-hundred times more severe. They'd probably request a class transfer so they could make sure he's safe, or at least Wanda would. As much as he'd like that, the last thing that he wanted was to burden and worry them.

Peter made a right at the intersection, and was taken out of his trance when he picked up the faint and distinct smell of burning gas. He looked up to see a group of people huddled around an entrance to an alley, as he got closer. He realized where he was. He was at the location of the explosion he heard earlier. Even though he had his hopes and dreams crushed by the most popular hero in the world, there was something in Peter's instincts that drew him to danger. He sighed. If he was already here, he might as well get the most of it. He pushed his way through the crowd, he saw that Multiple Man was still on patrol today as he, once again, formed a barrier between the civilians and the action. Past the barrier of men were a couple of heroes that Peter recognized: The Thing and Mr. Fantastic, the last two-thirds of the Future Foundation. By the looks of things, they were having trouble. Fire felt the heat as fire engulfed parts of the alley. Peter's gaze went past them to see the villain.

A horrible, stomach-churning feeling ravaged Peter's body like a hurricane. He saw a monstrous indescribable form of red, but it was very familiar to him. It was Carnage, and he was in the process of eating another person. He could faintly overhear the two heroes debating on how to beat the villain. There were sounds of worry in their voices. Were they losing? Were they not prepared?

This is my fault. Peter remembered that Iron Man said something about storing Carnage in his gauntlet. He specifically remembered him pointing to his left arm, the same arm that he used to hold Peter's head down when they were flying. How did it fall out? Was it loose? Was it because his power was low? This is my fault and someone is going to die because of me. He covered his mouth in terror. Peter overheard some commotion in the crowd, there was talk about Iron Man. How Iron Man was chasing Carnage. They were asking where Iron Man was.

This is my fault this is all my fault. Peter saw a glimpse of the victim that Carnage currently had in its grasp. It was a horrifying sight. Carnage's mouth was wide open, and razor sharp teeth were everywhere. Its victim was inside its mouth, as if it were slowly eating the victim. It was straight out of a horror movie. Peter felt like he was going to throw up. He knew how horrifying it is to be in the grasp of Carnage. He knew exactly what the victim was thinking. He suddenly heard a scream. It was a scream for help. Peter looked up, and his heart stopped.

What he saw in the mouth of Carnage, was the desperate and scared face of Eugene "Flash" Thompson. Half of it was human, and the other half was covered in his own symbiote. He was holding out his arm, as if he was calling out for help.

Peter gasped.

Save him.

Peter then found himself eight feet in the air, because he just jumped over the barricade of Multiple Man. Shoes touched down on the concrete earth, and he ran. He ran faster than he ever did.

"You?!" he heard the red demon screech. He saw Flash mutter something but he didn't hear.

He swore he could hear the cries of the two heroes that were currently behind him, begging him to stop, but he didn't listen. He just kept running. His legs kept moving on their own. His head tingled, and his body shivered.

Danger.

He saw Carnage whip a tendril at him, but he knew it was coming. He moved out of the way ever so slightly to the left, and the tendril completely whiffed him.

Danger.

He heard the blood curdling scream from the monster as it threw another tendril at him. He swiftly dodged to the right and came out unscathed as the tendril hit the ground.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

Yet another blood curdling scream filled the air as multiple tendrils shot themselves towards Peter. Peter doved over all of them, rolled when he hit the floor to keep his momentum going, and kept running.

Peter wasn't even thinking at this point. He couldn't even feel anything either. He couldn't feel the heat of the flames around him or the pain from the scraps on his knees. Someone was in danger and he had to do something.

He was close to Carnage now. Carnage cried another scream. As he was closing the gap between himself and the symbiote, Peter held his arm up high. His middle finger and ring finger curled into his palm, and something unsuspected happened. A string of fluid shot out from Peter's wrist and hit Carnage square in the white blotches that it called eyes. Carnage thrashed about as it couldn't see. The strange fluid seemingly solidified and wrapped around Carnage's face. Carnage's grip on Flash loosened as he slid ever so slightly out of the gullet of the demon. Finally Peter got close, took hold of Flash's arm, and began to pull.

"Parker?! What are you doing?!" he frantically yelled.

Peter kept pulling and pulling. "I don't know! I couldn't stop my legs! I don't know what's happening!"

"Why are you here?! Get out of here!"

"Flash I…!" Peter's face contorted into a semi-smile as tears ran down his face. "I just couldn't stand there and watch you die!"

Flash's eyes widened and his symbiote crawled to the edges of his face. The only human thing about Flash was his face at this point, his whole body was covered in the black symbiote. Flash bared his teeth, his eyes became pinpoint with rage, and he screamed.

"Get the hell 'offa me!"

The symbiote within Flash came to life, its own tendrils battled Carnage's as it formed itself from Flash with a chilling figure. It was like Carnage, it had white splotches where its eyes should be and it had sharp white teeth. It almost looked like it was grinning. It was black as the midnight sky, but the fires illuminated it with a subtle tinge of blue.

"Kill him! Venom!" Flash bellowed.

Venom let out a guttural roar that shook the earth beneath them. It then bit into Carnage's upper face with its sharp monstrous teeth as Carnage screamed in pain.

"No! No! No!" Carnage yelled. Two large mouths flew out of Carnage's blob-like biomass and bit hard into Venom's neck. Venom screamed in agony. As did Flash, who recoiled his free arm, which escaped Peter's grip, to hold his neck in pain. "This is not how play dates are supposed to go! I'm supposed to win! Always!" Carnage ripped off the solid-like fluid of his face and let out yet another roar.

Danger!

Peter felt danger coming from his left but it was too late, tendril struck him in the stomach and wrapped itself around his torso. Peter yelled in pain. It felt like someone took a bat to his abdomen. He tried moving his arms as he struggled to get out of Carnage's deadly grasp. He needed to get out! He needed to save Flash!

"This play date is over!" Carnage screamed. "Now go to Hell!" An extra mouth formed from Carnage's red mass and shot itself towards Peter at a blistering speed.

Peter's head tingled and throbbed with pain but he could do nothing, he was trapped. He closed his eyes for the inevitable.

The roars of engines suddenly filled the air and Peter opened his eyes to see Iron Man blocking the mouth with his arm!

"Iron Man?!" Peter yelled.

Iron Man looked directly at Peter. "I really am a piece of work, huh? Apparently I wasn't practicing what I preached!"

"No! Not you, again!"

"Hold on, kids!" Peter felt Iron Man grab his arm and he felt him pull. Peter was no longer in the grasp of Carnage, and he saw that Iron Man had Flash in his other hand. He pulled Flash out of Carnage's mouth. Peter saw the light in crevices of the armor glowing multiple colors. The same colors he saw that were surrounding the chest piece.

"You know, Carnage, technically you aren't human. You're just a quirk!" Multi-colored light began shining from the chest piece. "Which means that I don't have to hold back on you!l

"No!" Carnage screamed in terror.

Iron Man dropped Peter and Flash behind him as the multi-colored energy whirled within him. He crossed his arms in a "X" formation across his chest. The colors started to flash with more intensity. Iron Man kneeled and aimed upwards with his torso. "Oh yes! Your reign of terror is over!"

"I will not be defeated! I am Carnage! I am the most powerful being on the pla-"

"Yeah?! So what?! I'm Iron Man!" he bellowed. "Take this! Unibeam!"

A giant beam of multi-colored exploded out of Iron Man's chest piece and enveloped itself around Carnage. It let out one last scream as it felt its molecules being ripped asunder, and being vaporized into nothingness. The beam went past the buildings and headed straight right into the stratosphere as it left the Earth.

Peter blinked and saw that Iron Man stopped the Unibeam. It didn't look like he was moving. Peter started to worry, until Iron Man's hand curled into a thumbs-up. He then stood on his two feet, turned to face the crowd, and gave them a thumbs up as well. The sound of a cheering crowd filled Peter's ears, and for the first time since this morning, Peter had a genuine smile on his face.

The events of the next hour were a blur to Peter. After Carnage was vaporized by Iron Man, Peter and Flash were pulled aside by onscene medics to be evaluated. However, during this Peter got scolded heavily by the Thing for being so reckless. Peter felt a bit intimidated by him, but deep down in his heart he knew he did the right thing. After being let go by medical services, Peter made his trek home once again. He tried to talk to Iron Man but he was hounded by the media.

As Peter got on the train once again, he opened up his phone once again, to see that, once again, he had more messages than he can count. Everyone texted him. Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Pietro, Wanda, and even Mr. and Mrs. Maximoff, and they can't even speak English too well. The texts from them really touched Peter's heart. He knew that he was loved, but it was nice to be reminded of that. He texted them all that he's fine and he's on the way home, however he noticed that none of them read it. He shrugged and put his phone back in his pocket.

As the light of the setting sun filled the train car, Peter started to have questions about what he just saw. How did Iron Man do that? He had no energy left. He used the energy that was keeping him alive to pull that stunt off. Why didn't he die? Did he not use all of it? Peter sighed and shook his head, he was so tired. He had a really long day.

Peter finally got to the Queens stop. Now it's fixed? He touched ground and began his walk towards home. The sun was setting on the horizon with a beautiful orange glow and the sky danced with beautiful evening colors. The leaves were just starting to change. Peter didn't notice it this morning, but now he realized how truly beautiful the season of Autumn can be. He turned on his street, and he saw blue and red lights in front of his house. Great. They probably think I'm missing. He turned back to the street that he was on beforehand, so he wouldn't be seen by anyone. He had to mentally prepare himself before he walked into the mess that was his front yard.

Danger.

"Parker!" a familiar voice barked.

Peter jumped, he knew something was coming, but he still jumped. He turned around to see Flash standing behind him. He looked furious. Peter flinched inwardly, but only for a second. He took a deep breath, and exhaled.

"What do you want, Flash?" he asked with a tinge of annoyance in his voice. He was taught by his consular to take his time when he needed to stand up for himself. To take a deep breath and visualize what he was going to say and how he was going to say it.

"I want to tell you something," Flash's eyes narrowed, "I didn't ask you to save me. I didn't need your help. I could've gotten out of it." His face was red, and his dialect was slurred. "I don't need your pity! I don't need anything from you! Not from some quirkless, weak, worthless nobody!" He turned around and began walking in the opposite direction, he stomped angrily as he went. "Don't cross me, Wall-Crawler!"

Peter tilted his head in confusion as he saw Flash walk away. He winced when he saw him kick an innocent trash can in spite. I guess that's his way of saying thank you?

A rush of concern for Flash washed over Peter, a rare occurrence. Flash stinked of booze and looked pretty drunk. For a person with a symbiote to get drunk meant that they had to drink a lot of alcohol to balance out the host and the symbiote. Peter cupped his hands to his mouth.

"Flash!" he called out, "Do you know how to get home?!"

Flash turned around, his face even redder than before. "Of course I do, dumbass!" He pointed further down the road. "Go down three blocks and turn right!" He swiped the air with the hand he was pointing with and pivoted back into the direction he was walking in. "Just get outta my sight!" he yelled.

Peter gave a minuscule smile, sighed, and shook his head. I'm too nice to him… he did destroy my camera, today, though. That smile went directly in a frown. Great. Peter turned back around. He had to prepare himself again. Dick. He took a deep breath, formulated his plan, what he was going to say, and visualized how everything was going to go down. He decided he was ready, and almost took his first step before he was interrupted again.

"Hey, kid!" A familiar voice shouted from above Peter. Peter looked up and saw Iron Man flying towards him.

An expression of shock found itself on Peter's face.

"Iron Ma-?!" Before Peter could finish his shriek, Iron Man firmly planted his palm onto Peter's mouth. Peter could practically taste the metal of the iron, which was kind of disgusting.

"Are you going to do that every time?" he asked.

Peter shook his head and Iron Man let go of his mouth. Like last time, Peter had questions.

"So how did you escape the media they always hound you whenever you do hero work and also speaking of hero work how the hell did you do that and not die you explicitly told me that if you use that energy that's keeping you alive which I have some theories about by the way you would literally die because your heart isn't beating and also explain to me how that makes sense because I'm losing my Goddam-"

Suddenly the armor ran out of power again and revealed the zombie-like Tony Stark to which Peter promptly screamed in terror, once again. Once Peter calmed down. Tony sighed and began to speak.

"I'll answer all that in a bit, but right now, I gotta tell you two things, one's a statement and one's a question."

Peter nodded cautiously.

"Okay, so, question first." Tony sharply inhaled. "Why did you lie to me?"

Peter was utterly taken aback. "Wh-what?!"

"Your quirk! You told me you didn't have a quirk!" he exclaimed.

"I don't have one! What are you saying?!"

"Kid, I saw it. You jumped ten feet in the air over a human barricade. Ran faster than any kid your age can. Dodged every single attack thrown at you, with style, if I might add. And you shot that stringy stuff out of your wrist!"

Peter was grasping for an explanation. Any explanation. There's no way he had a quirk. No way. This was all some sort of misunderstanding.

"Listen, uh, Mister Stark, what I said to you was true. I don't have a quirk! You can check my medical record, I'm quirkless." He looked towards the ground, feeling dejected. "All of that earlier must have been a misunderstand-"

Danger.

"-ing." Peter's eyes widened. What just happened? Peter looked up and saw that his hand was holding a pen, and from the look of it, the pen was thrown at his head. Peter looked at Tony with disbelief. Tony had a smug look on his face.

No way.

"Oh my God. I have a quirk," Peter muttered with a little chuckle of utter disbelief.

"Now that we've proven that theory. Statement second. Thank you, kid. I really mean that. If you didn't figure it out by now, I was in the crowd. I showed up and felt utterly helpless. I couldn't do anything, no. It's that I wouldn't do anything. I was too scared. Too scared to die." His face darkened with regret as he said this, but he looked up at Peter and smiled. "But, then I saw you. This kid. This stupid, arrogant kid. Who's dreams were just crushed by his idol. Who was told by the most popular hero in the world that he himself could not be a hero. This kid that ran in there with no hope. The kid that thought he had no quirk, ran in as if he had a plan to save the day. Let me guess, your legs started to move on their own, didn't they?"

Peter nodded frantically.

Tony chuckled. "Figured as much. It's a phenomenon. Heroes claim that it happens all the time. When they run head first into danger, and they don't stop. They don't think about their own wellbeing. They only think about saving people. That's what happened to you. Kid. What I'm about to say is something that I say very rarely. I was wrong. Dead wrong."

The wind blew through the dying leaves of the Autumn trees. The setting sun looked like it illuminated Tony. He was both in shadow, and in the light. The Arc Reactor in his chest burned brightly through his clothes. Peter just then noticed how beautiful the evening sky was. Vibrant shades of pink, yellow, blue, and orange danced in the atmosphere. Time stopped and nothing mattered at that moment except the words that Peter thought he was going to hear. Breathing became harder for him as his chest started to become extremely heavy. His eyes stung as they began to water, and thus his vision became blurry.

"I'd be saying this even if you didn't have a quirk. Because even though you apparently have one now, it must have just mutated or some other genetic science stuff that I have to ask Reed about. You still believed that you were quirkless when you ran in."

Don't say it, Peter thought. Don't you dare say it. I've cried so much today. So much! I don't think I have enough in me to cry again! Peter clutched his chest and he fell to his knees as tears rolled down his face. His body began to shiver as anticipation took him over. Memories from the past flew through his mind like a bird flying into a house and exiting through an open window. Memories of the day he was told he was quirkless. Memories of him, Uncle Ben, and Aunt May all excitedly watching the latest villain attack on the news. Memories of the day when he tried to save a boy from Flash. Memories of the day when he met Wanda and Pietro. Memories of the day where they all promised to attend Avengers Academy and become heroes together. Memories of every beating from Flash, of every hug from Aunt May and Uncle Ben, of every time somebody told him that he couldn't be a hero, and of every time either Wanda, Pietro, Uncle Ben, or Aunt May told him that he most certainly can become a hero, and a damn good one at that.

"Kid, you can become a hero," Tony Stark stated with a genuine and sincere tone.

The floodgates opened. Peter Parker officially broke. His question was finally answered. He had a quirk. He could start his dream. He could finally start his journey to become an Avenger.

"Hey, so, uh, I'm gonna need that pen back."

Me (11:00 PM): Hey u up?

Harry Osborn (11:01 PM): DUDE HELL YEAH IM UP I JUST SAW YOU ON THE NEWS

Me (11:05 PM): YEAH I KNOW THAT WAS WILD

Harry Osborn (11:06 PM): So do you like have a quirk now?

Me (11:10 PM): Yeah I think? I didn't have the chance to play around with it cuz of all the police that were at my house. And May and Wanda scolded me for hours

Harry Osborn (11:11 PM): Wanda's probably training so she can whip you into submission when she ties the knot with you ;D

Me (11:16 PM): :-[ shut up!

Harry Osborn (11:17 PM): I can hear it now, the screams of agony as she literally ping pongs you across the room over and over again for working too much as a hero :)

Me (11:24 PM): You enjoy this don't you?

Harry Osborn (11:24 PM): You love it you know you do

Me (11:30 PM): No. I don't. Anyway, you free to have a video call soon? I was at Avengers Tower, and they mentioned that your dad's company is doing quirk research with Stark Industries.

Harry Osborn (11:31 PM): oh you found out about that? Lol yeah it's a thing that dads investing in to like you know Cure me lol but yeah dude! I'm free this Friday or Saturday

Me (11:33 PM): Saturday please lol Wanda has Pietro and I tied down to go see some movie that day

Harry Osborn (11:34 PM): Pietro gonna sit between you two lovebirds? ;)

Me (11:45 PM): oh shut up. We're just friends! Just friends, I don't know why people think that there's something more!

Harry Osborn (11:46 PM): lolll! just busting your balls bud

Me (11:55 PM): well stop! They hurt! lol but anyway, believe it or not I'm still going to school tomorrow lol so I gotta get to sleep. Night dude!

Harry Osborn (11:56 PM): Good night man! Welcome to the "wonderful" world of quirks! Good thing your's doesn't kill you like mine does.

Me (12:00 AM): Oh shush lol we'll find a cure for you! I promise! Good night :)

Thank you so much for reading! Chapter 4 is currently be worked on! Please leave a review because I love feedback!

Aztec13: Why yes! This story is filled with legacy characters and I cannot wait for them to show what I have in store!

OK KO: Thank you for your input. All I'll say is this: keep reading and make that decision to keep reading. Also, it's a different universe so the rules are different. I hope this chapter entertained you!