"Hey, Peter!" Ned called out from the hallway. The taller boy smiled and waved, wishing he was able to respond. His friend practically ran, pressing a box of legos in his hands.
"Dude! It's the death star! You're coming over to build it, right?" Peter nodded, sloppily adding a few words in sign. It had been a few months since he had woken up in the hospital bed with burning scars, nightmares and no memories. The lady at the side of the bed had tearfully introduced herself as his aunt, and told him that his name was Peter. They didn't tell him much after that, only his age and the fact that he had been missing since he was younger.
Ned chatted throughout the day, speaking of his theories about Queen's own superhero-vigilante, Spider-man, who had appeared only a few weeks after Peter was discharged.
"I'm telling you, man, The Bugle is way too harsh on him. He's so cool!" Ned said as Peter struggled to complete the sit up, his scars folding in on themselves on his abdomen.
"How do you think he got his powers? Let me tell you what I think… You weren't there, but eighth grade, we went to Oscorp, and they had these massive radioactive spiders!"
Peter tuned his friend out, grateful that he found someone that could fill the silence. He wondered what it was like before, where he was. His aunt and uncle had asked him not to mention being kidnapped to his friends- not like he could tell them anyway.
"You good, loser?" A deadpan voice spoke out behind them, and Peter jumped, unsure of why exactly he was so skittish about being surprised. Noticing that it was just Michelle and her workout partner, Arthur, he smiled and nodded.
Arthur was a quiet kid who had transferred from a different school the same year that Peter joined Midtown. He wasn't exactly short for a guy, only 172 centimeters, but he was smaller than most of the boys in their grade, which frequently made him the target of bullies who found it easy to pick on someone who wouldn't speak up- just like Peter.
Rumours abounded that he was a Russian spy, that he was younger than most of the grade and had actually skipped a few years of school, that he had killed a man and was now in witness protection. Barring whether or not these rumours held any splinter of truth in them, he had quickly been adopted by Ned, who had just made friends with Peter, but mostly kept to himself, preferring to sit with Michelle instead.
Arthur seemed to have something different about him. He was a borderline genius, fluent in several languages- he refused to tell them how many. His answers were strange, almost as if he was just pretending to be human, though he was skilled at it. He was almost unnaturally fit, though he explained it away by claiming that he and his father would rock climb together. The strangest thing was that only Ned, Michelle and Peter seemed to notice just how odd Arthur was. Sure, everyone knew he was weird, but they didn't seem too concerned about it.
Arthur always wore baggy clothes, giving him the appearance of wanting to be slovenly, but they were always crisp and clean. Always long sleeves and pants, no matter the temperature outside. He seemed uncomfortable in his own skin, tensing at any slight noise and keeping his hand in his pockets, one of which had a hole in it that Ned swore he once saw a gun in. He was perpetually slouched, but always seemed at the ready, giving the impression of someone who wanted to give the air of nonchalance but wasn't too secure with his surroundings.
"What class do you have next?" Ned asked Arthur, who looked up at the ceiling for a moment as if he was trying to remember. Like he'd ever need to; Ned had tested it, and he had a basically perfect memory.
"Science." His voice was soft, with a strange accent that they hadn't been able to place. The boy's brown eyes widened, and he seemed to straighten up, growing a few inches as he looked toward the windows.
"Get down!" He yelled, and the entire class hit the hard gym floor as a semi-truck trailer flew through the large, barred windows of the gymnasium. Peter could hear Arthur breathing quietly, and as the dust cleared, the boy was the only one standing, looking around with a gun in his hand. How had he managed to get it?
Arthur noticed his head up, and quickly shook his own. The strange boy made his way over to the box, now dented and covered with dust, with the grace of a panther, stepping over debris and people. He paused before he reached the doors, however, looking toward all of the teenagers laying on the ground.
Sighing, Arthur shook his head, pulling out a cell phone out of his pants and running over to the bleachers to grab the first aid kid out of the wall with a light touch. The small pistol made its way back into his pocket, the safety clicked on.
"Coach?" Arthur spoke. The white metal box was placed next to the unconscious teacher.
"Peter," The boy said. "Could you check everyone for wounds? I'm going to call the cops."
Peter nodded, snatching the box off of the floor and going first to check Ned, who had a gash on his head and hissed in pain when Peter applied the hydrogen peroxide. Michelle was unconscious next to him, dust and plaster covering her face and making her look almost as if she was a sleeping statue with the book on her chest.
"The cops will be here in fifteen." Arthur said, tucking his phone back into his pocket. Screaming echoed from outside as they heard the familiar sound of Iron Man's repulsors. Peter watched as Arthur's eyes went wide and the boy sprinted out of the room. A few minutes later, Spider-man swung into the fight, and the heroes were emboldened once more.