The man observed the world below as he and his rescuer continued to make their way across the city. He had to admit that it was definitely the most unique mode of transportation that he could have imagined: the two were standing on this large flying machine that looked as if it came straight out of a movie or something. The one in the green and purple had assured the man that they could not be seen by those they were flying over, so he took his word for it. He wasn't sure how exactly that was the case, but they had passed a news helicopter earlier, and it had not turned around and followed them as he'd anticipated, so he figured the guy was telling the truth.

Finally, they began to slow down, coming to a stop on top of some random building. The man was about to ask why they stopped when, suddenly, a section of the roof began to open. It soon grew big enough for their "vehicle" or whatever it was to fit, so they slowly descended into the place. As they did, lights came on, revealing a surprisingly unassuming place that was not too unlike where they had just come from, except for appearing much more maintained.

Their ride finally came to rest on the floor of the large room.

"Follow me," the one with the fishbowl looking thing on his head instructed. He then jumped off the thing onto the floor. The man started to follow, but something in him caused him to hesitate. It was that same strange feeling again, the same one that had been so strong before when his attacker came after him and had gone off more subtly when the one in the green and purple introduced himself. He once again opted to ignore the feeling, finally jumping down and rushing to catch up with his rescuer.

"I apologize in advance; I'm sure I'm going to ask a lot of questions, but..."

"No man who's been through what you have should apologize," the figure interrupted. "You undoubtedly have questions. Ask them."

"Well, where are we seems like a good place to start," the man inquired.

They stopped just outside a more normal sized door. The mysterious figure turned to the man.

"We're at the place you and I call home."

The figure then turned and opened the door, letting the two of them in. He then flipped the switch, lighting up the room and allowing the man to finally observe the place clearly. It was a small place that seemed almost like a dormitory, with a bed and a nightstand in the far-right corner, and a small fridge next to it.

"Wait...I LIVE here?" the man questioned as he turned to his rescuer. The individual nodded in reply.

"I'm afraid that your story is not the most pleasant one," he replied. "Our story, really, but we make the most of what we can."

The man turned back to the bed, slowly making his way over to it. He glanced around, observing the supposed place where he rested his head every night. He removed the webbed-patterned glove from his right hand, running his fingers and palm along the blankets and mattress. They were soft but not new, and a solid look at them showed that they had weren't exactly new out of their package.

The man then moved over to the fridge, popping it open to reveal a small number of water bottles, but not much else.

"Is any of this helping?" the figure questioned, having hardly moved from his position by the light switches. "Are you remembering anything."

The man shook his head.

"Nothing," he replied, standing up and slipping his glove back on.

"Then it is as bad as I feared," the one in green and purple replied. "Come, there is something that I need to show you."

The figure then promptly exited the room, with the man hurrying to catch up, though not before making sure to turn off the lights in the room. He followed his rescuer to another room across the building, where a large device was in the center.

"What is this?" the man inquired.

"This is what is responsible for your current predicament," the one in the lighter costume explained. "It was a device developed by a large corporation called Alchemax. They claimed that it was being developed for therapeutic purposes, that it would help diagnose and treat concussions faster than ever before, among many other helpful functions. You and I soon discovered its true purpose: to be used as a weapon, a means to be discreetly sold off to the highest bidder who would use it for their own nefarious purposes."

"Wait...we figured all of that out?" the man said.

The figure in the purple cape turned and looked at him; at least, he appeared to. The helmet, or whatever that thing was covering his face, could not be seen through, making it difficult to tell what he was truly looking at or thinking.

"Forgive me," he said. "Perhaps I should start back at the beginning."

The figure then walked over to a wall on the side of the room. He placed his hand on a section of it, and barely a couple of seconds later, a series of screens, keyboards and other devices emerged seemingly from within.

"Woah," the man said, stepping slowly as he made his way closer to them.

The figure then tapped one of the keys, bringing up a screenshot of what appeared to be a newspaper headline on the screen.

"SPIDER-MAN BUSTS MYSTERIO."

"Spider-Man?" he said, observing the picture just below the headline. It was of the two of them appearing to fight; the man's costume in the picture maintained the red and blue color scheme of what he was wearing now, as well as the web pattern throughout the red sections. The white spider, however, was noticeably absent.

"That's us?" he asked.

The figure nodded his head.

"Unfortunately. You see, we didn't exactly get off on the right foot. When we first met, I was nothing more than a petty criminal, a man who only sought to draw attention to himself and only cared about fame and fortune."

The man then tapped the same key again.

"But it was you who changed all of that."

A new headline popped up on the large screen as he spoke:

"MYSTERIO RELEASED."

"I don't understand," the man said. His head almost started hurting again as he tried to process the story that was slowly being spun to him.

"A while back, you finally managed to put me away," the guy who was supposedly this "Mysterio" replied. "I was sentenced to spend the next twenty years rotting away in that horrible place. Yet, as the days went by, I began to reflect on my many misdeeds, the people that I had hurt. I pondered whether or not I would be given the opportunity to repent of my sins and atone for them, in my own eyes if no one else's."

"What happened?" the man inquired.

"You did," Mysterio replied, turning to address him once more. "I wasn't exactly the most popular individual while I was in prison. Anyone that had cared about me before I'd turned to a life of crime deserted me, and I could not blame them. You came to visit me though; at first, I think you probably just wanted to check and make sure I hadn't escaped, but then you kept coming. I didn't know why for a long time, but eventually it became clear: you saw something in me, something I didn't see in myself."

Mysterio then tapped another key, shutting the screen off. He slowly raised his hands, placing them on his helmet. Popping it off, he then held it at his side, revealing an older gentleman, probably at least in his fifties, with long, blonde but greying hair that was kept in a ponytail.

"You saw someone worth saving," he continued. "Once I figured that out, I began to work on myself. I worked out, took care of myself and got my body into the best shape it had ever been in. I eventually earned the trust of some of the guards, so they let me interact with the other prisoners more often than I'd been allowed to before. I tried to help them see that the same was true for each of them, that they were worth saving. I taught those around me with a lesser education how to read and write, as well as other skills that would be helpful in society. Eventually, you worked to get me a parole hearing, which fortunately went in my favor."

"You were released?" the man asked.

"Indeed, I was," he replied, slowly walking up to him. "For a while, I simply tried to blend in, to be just an average member of society, and for a while, I was. Then, one day, you came to me saying that you needed my help to stop something terrible. You wanted me to put this suit back on and to help you, but I was hesitant. This costume represented the old life that I'd lived, the life of a man who was selfish, who only looked out for his own interests. You told me that it could mean whatever I make it mean, and you were right. I helped you, and we have fought by each other's sides ever since."

The man slowly turned around, his feet stepping forward slowly, as if they were trying to help by his brain time to get his head around all of this. Could he really be this Spider-Man that the man was referring to, that was in the picture of the articles?

He turned back to Mysterio.

"How did we end up here?"

The man let out a light snort, looking off to the side for a moment before returning eye contact again.

"Life has not been too kind to us of late," he explained. "About a year ago, we had to stop something horrible, a bomb plot that would have cost many lives. Unfortunately, the man in charge of this was one who was beloved by the city, so he turned them against us. We saved their lives, but they became ungrateful to us, so we went into hiding and found this place to set up shop, if you will. We've been partners in crime fighting ever since, seeking to protect the city from whatever may come, even if they don't appreciate it."

"Wow," the man spat out. "That's...that's a lot. Wait, if we've been basically living together this whole time, then you must know my real name, who I am underneath this mask, right?"

The man's hopes feel when Mysterio shook his head.

"I'm afraid not."

"What?" the man replied, confused. "How could you not know?"

Mysterio hung his head a little shifting his gaze downward for a moment. He took a couple more steps toward the man, which for some reason made the hairs on his body stand on end.

Looking him in the eye, Mysterio finally spoke.

"Because you don't have an identity outside of being Spider-Man."

Huh?

"I don't understand," the man replied.

Mysterio shifted his helmet to his other arm before continuing.

"In the aftermath of us saving the city from the bomb plot, you tried to go home...only to find that your loved ones had packed up and left. You took it pretty hard, and after that, you basically threw yourself into being Spider-Man. I would try to get you to open up about it, but you would always insist that Spider-Man is who you are now, and that was it."

The man rubbed the back of his masked head with his gloved hand as he let the reality behind his life settle in.

"So, do I even like, take the mask off at all?"

"I'm guessing you do when you sleep, but otherwise, you pretty much wear it everywhere," Mysterio answered.

The man slowly wondered over to a nearby wall, resting himself against it by his arm. This couldn't be all that his life was...could it? Being a superhero was a noble thing, for sure, but the thought that he had nothing other than that...

"I know that this isn't what you wanted to hear," Mysterio said, his tone gentle and compassionate, "but this is the reality of the matter. Look, why don't you get some rest, take some time to let it all settle in. I'll look into what I can to try and help you properly retrieve your memories, but it might take some time. I'm afraid I have another matter that I must attend to, and I will need to plan more carefully, since you're not exactly in a good mindset to help out right now."

The man was struck by those last words for some reason and quickly spun around to face the guy again.

"Wait, what do you mean?" he asked. "What's this other matter that you need to attend to or whatever?"

Mysterio stopped in his tracks.

"It's nothing that I can't handle," he assured the man. "I'll be fine."

He tried to resume walking again, but the man ran ahead of him this time, blocking his path.

"No, please," he said. "I know that I just got a lot dumped on me, and yeah, it's a lot to process. But if being a hero is what I do, and if there is something that needs to be done, then I want to help."

Mysterio tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing towards the man.

"If you're going to be out there with me, then you need to at least remember a little something about fighting," he finally said. "Fortunately, we do have a training room, so you can practice some stuff there. Who knows; maybe the exercise will help jog your memory somehow."

"Alright then," the man replied. "Lead the way."

That was exactly what Mysterio did, walking past him and out of the room, prompting the man to follow behind. His mind was still reeling from a lot of what he'd been told, and honestly, there was still a small part of him that wasn't a hundred percent sure that it was all true. He couldn't explain it, but that feeling, that subtle sensation was still active to a degree. It made no sense though; why was something in him still trying to dissuade him from trusting Mysterio after all the help he had provided so far?

There was one thing that the man knew for sure though: if there was something good that needed to be done, if people needed to be protected, then he had to see to it that it was done. In a time where he did not know much of anything for certain, somehow, he knew that much for sure. He had power, a great power that he did not fully understand right now, but with that power would likely have to come the responsibility to use it wisely...

The man paused for a second; why did that specific thought, those particular words feel so...familiar?

Hope you're enjoying it so far!

Continuing to pray for you all; stay safe and healthy!

"Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you." Matthew 5:11-12