A/N: Here's chapter twelve, folks! I hope you don't hate me at the end...
Disclaimer: Kevin Feige has denied my request to own the rights to Marvel... So, in other words, I don't own anything but a bunch of books, my own wild dreams, and the spelling mistakes in this story.
Twelve
The next morning, he walked into school wearing a light green sweater cardigan thing (he didn't know what it was called), khakis, his black dress shoes, and his reading glasses, his tags around his neck and tucked into his shirt, his pistol at his waist, and the case folder in his hand.
He ignored everyone as he walked into first period- even Ned- because he was so focused on trying to figure out how to catch this girl without getting killed.
"I know that look," a voice finally pulled him out of his thoughts, and Peter looked up to see MJ smirking at him.
"Pardon?" he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.
The class looked surprised at seeing him in glasses, and talking so formally (because he was Peter Parker, the dude guy and the nerd), but he ignored them.
"That's your I'm frustrated and I can't figure this out look," MJ clarified, and Peter's gaze softened as he smiled at her.
"Sorry," he said, his voice sounded husky from being tired. "I'm trying to figure this case out for work and it's been driving me up the wall all week."
His class smiled apologetically.
"Work or the other guy?" MJ raised an eyebrow.
Peter chuckled, the sound deep and rich and something not many had heard before. Most people were used to hearing the teen "giggle," if it could be called that, in a higher-pitched tone. But this was something entirely different.
"Work," he assured her, nudging her shoulder as he sat down.
"What kind of case is it?" Cindy turned around in her seat to look at him, and he looked up at her, his eyes filled with an unreadable emotion..
"I suppose you could call the suspect a serial killer," he offered, causing the class to stiffen, "but she's specifically targeting S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, based on what we've learned so far. I'm fairly certain that, whoever this girl is, she won't target any of you or your families."
The assurance made the rest of the class relax, but MJ had more questions.
"It's a girl?" she asked, and when Peter nodded, she continued. "How old?"
Peter cleared his throat quietly.
"Our age," he admitted, and the revelation caused the class- including Mr. Harrington, who had walked in and decided to listen- to gasp in surprise. "I know, it's bad," Peter rubbed his eyes and fixed his glasses. Everyone could see that he was obviously exhausted. "But I've asked to be assigned to this case because I think I can solve it. I'm trying to figure out who this girl is and how we can catch her. I already have an idea for the latter, but since it's dangerous and potentially life-threatening, I won't reveal what that idea is."
There was silence for a moment, before Ned said, his voice filled with nervousness,
"Tony won't like you putting yourself in danger. He doesn't like it when you put yourself in danger."
"I know," Peter sighed again, his eyes twinkling slightly. "Which is why I'm not going to tell him, or the others."
"Peter!" Ned groaned quietly. "You do this all the time," he whispered so quietly no one could hear.
"What do I do every time?" Peter asked, and Ned mentally facepalmed, forgetting about his friend's enhanced senses.
"I just…" Ned paused and looked Peter dead in the eye. "You always feel the need to put yourself in danger to save others. Why not take a break for a while? You're a teenager, Peter, and you shouldn't have to go out there and get stabbed, shot, and tortured almost every day, and, no offense, but MJ and I hate having to stitch you up because half the time we're afraid you're going to die!"
Peter gave Ned a soft, reassuring smile, and gave his friend's shoulder a small squeeze.
"I know you worry, Ned," he said gently, "but this is my job. This is what I do- what I've always done. I'm sorry I've frightened you in the past, but getting shot and stabbed and tortured is part of the job description. I knew that when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D., I knew that when I became Spiderman, and I know that now. And even if I wasn't a geek-turned-spy-turned-mutant-turned-avenger-turned-pincushion, I'm pretty sure I'd still find ways to magically get injured."
Ned let out a small laugh, along with everyone else.
"Yeah," he nodded, "you would. But we still love you."
"Alright, kids," Mr. Harrington interrupted, sitting at his desk and clasping his hands together. Everyone turned around to look at him, including Peter. "Under normal circumstances, this would be your science class," he continued. "However, since the circumstances, for Mr. Peter here, are a little different, you guys, just my first period class, are going to spend this time helping him out on whatever he needs."
Everyone grinned at the words, but Peter frowned.
"You don't have to do that, sir," he protested, but Mr. Harrington stopped him.
"Look, Peter," he said, his voice soothing. "We all saw your scars last week. We have an idea of what you go through on a daily basis, and we know what you do for a living, so I think, with everything that you do for us, we can do a little something for you in return."
Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded once.
"Thank you, sir," he whispered, and Mr. Harrington smiled, and nodded.
"So," MJ smirked once more. "Wanna tell us what you can about this case, loser? That way we can help you?"
Peter grinned at her, and she saluted him.
"We are the Peter Parker Protection Squad, after all," Betty added, and everyone laughed.
"So," Peter began, and everyone leaned in closer to him to hear him better, "all I can legally tell you is, this girl… She's very good at what she does. She knows how to cover her tracks, and if she leaves evidence behind, it's because she wants you to find it. The way she kills is unpredictable yet horrifyingly gruesome and cruel, and trust me- you don't want to see the pictures. I almost threw up just glancing at them."
Everyone was quiet, their expressions unreadable as Peter continued.
"I've narrowed it down to a few people that this girl might be, but I'm not certain of anything yet. But I am sure of one thing." Peter stood, and held up the list of the victims' names for the class to see. "At first, I didn't see a pattern. It looked like she was just choosing random agents to murder at random times. But when I looked closer, I realized that she did have a pattern. She went by the first two letters of the person's middle name, so a form of alphabetization, and she killed each of these people three and a half weeks apart, each on a Tuesday night, when she knew they'd be home, because we don't have night shifts in the S.H.I.E.L.D. business."
Flash raised his eyebrows. It was the first time Peter ever remembered him willingly listening to a thing he had to say.
"Who's next on the list?" he added, somewhat worriedly.
A slow grin spread across Peter's face, and everyone frowned in confusion. Who was it?
"You're looking right at him," Peter responded happily.
~:~
Homework was the one easy thing in his life.
It took him, no matter how much he had, fifteen to twenty minutes tops to complete it. He was smart, and he practically lived with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner.
As he wrapped up on the final AP Chemistry problem, he sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He took a few deep breaths to clear his mind, then reached for his work papers.
His eyes roamed over the plan he'd written down for capturing whoever this girl was. The plan was dangerous, and would most likely get him killed, but wasn't that a risk with everything he did?
He stood up, the papers in his hand, and left his bedroom and walked into the kitchen of the tower. He reached into the fridge and grabbed an apple, his eyes never leaving his papers.
"K," he mumbled to himself, taking a bite of the fruit and walking into the lounge area, where the rest of the Avengers were sitting. Peter barely paid them any mind, and they watched him curiously. "So if I wait in here… she'll probably come and…" his train of thought was interrupted by a creak in the vents above him and a tingle at the back of his neck.
"Clint?" he called up, "I know you're up there, so trying to scare me won't work!"
"Pete?"
Peter froze. Slowly, he looked up, his eyes wide as he stared at Clint's confused expression.
"You're not in the vents," he said quietly, and Clint shook his head. Peter paled slightly. "It's Tuesday night," he mumbled, the apple and papers falling from his hands and onto the floor. He gripped his head in his hands as he hissed quietly, "Oh, crap, I feel like an idiot- everybody get out of the room, now!"
"What?" Steve asked, standing. "Why?"
"Mr. Rogers," Peter said sternly, the seriousness in his tone startling everyone in the room, "you all need to get out of this room immediately. There's no time to explain." The creaking was gradually getting louder, and Peter was growing more serious by the second. "I'm gonna have to scrap the plan then," he growled to himself, pressing his watch.
"Peter?"
Fury's voice came through the watch a moment later, and everyone else paused.
"Sir, I don't have much time," Peter said hurriedly, pulling his pistol out of his pocket and making sure his web shooters were fully loaded, "but she's here, and I highly suggest locking down HQ until the situation is handled."
"Parker?" Fury asked again. "What do you mean 'she's there?'"
"The girl we've been trying to find, sir," Peter clarified, and he could feel Fury stiffen. "I know what I need to do, sir, and if things go the wrong way… it won't be pretty. Tell Fitz and Daisy and the rest of my team that I love them, just in case."
Before Fury could respond, Peter ended the call, and he whirled around to face the vents, his gun at the ready. When he saw that the Avengers hadn't left yet, he sighed.
"I really didn't want you guys to see this," he said.
Swiftly, he webbed them all to the back wall, up high so that the girl couldn't get to them.
"Peter!" Natasha yelled down at him. "What are you doing?"
"This isn't your case to handle!" he called up to her. "I don't want you guys getting hurt."
He could feel their shocked, confused gases on the back of his head, but he ignored them.
The creaking finally echoed around the room, and stopped just a few feet in front of Peter.
"I know you're up there," Peter called, his grip on the gun tightening, "so why don't you come on down and we can discuss this like normal, civilized people?"
A quiet, feminine laugh echoed through the vents, reaching Peter's ears.
Peter gasped. He knew that laugh.
"No," he stumbled backward.
"Yes," the voice- her voice- called down to him.
"I don't believe it," he said, his voice cracking as his tough exterior faded away. "I won't, not until I see your face."
"Alright," she agreed, and the vent cover dropped to the ground.
When she dropped neatly to the floor, her curls falling across her shoulders, her brown eyes meeting his, he felt his heart crack in two.
"MJ," he breathed.
