{ Julia }
Julia slings herself over the warehouse gate, tucking and landing on her feet, and waltzes inside the guarded entrance. She adjusts the payload strapped to her back as she makes her way through the distribution center. A mess of thoughts bombard her own and she filters through them for a quiet voice and follows it to an office upstairs.
"Arach, you're not permitted up here," a guard says. "Boss is busy — "
Julia swipes her hand across the air and a web engulfs the man, dragging him across the corridor and attaching him to the wall.
He grunts in pain and she ignores his string of swearing directed at her as she fires a web at the door knob, pulls it open, and marches into the meeting. They don't notice her presence, not with Simon craning over the desk and arguing with the other men in the room. Silvio sits in a plush chair with a hand to his temple, and his bored expression changes with intrigue when he sees her striding over to them.
Julia releases the webs along her back, sliding the Juvenator around to her front, and drops it on the desk. A metallic clang rings out and silences the bickering men.
She stands before them, all gawking at her, and removes her dark mask.
I can't believe she actually found it —
I knew she'd retrieve it —
Val owes me twenty bucks —
She actually complied —
Of course, she complied. Silvio said compliance will be rewarded and right now, she's collecting.
"I want to see him."
Silvio narrows his grey eyes at her, careful and calculating. He waves his hand. "Leave us."
The men exit the room, Julia eyeing Simon's lingering glare as he departs, and the door shuts behind them.
Silvio stands from his desk.
See who? Your father? Or your boy?
"Does it matter? You said all I had to do was get the Juvenator. I got it. So what's the big deal? I want to see him."
Silvio watches her. Julia always hated when people held conversations spoken solely in their eyes but now she can hear their hidden words and nothing is secret. Even a quiet, calm voice like Silvio's.
"I want you to see something else first," he voices aloud. "Come." He grabs his cane leaning against his desk and heads to a door at the front of the office. She's so annoyed she's not sure she wants to hear the rest of his thoughts so she slides a finger over her inhibitor and turns it on for the time being, and it's weird hearing silence after hearing everyone for so long.
Silvio presses his hand to a scanner and the door slides open. Julia follows him through the opening and steps out onto a private balcony overlooking the rows of production lines. Soldiers strip and clean their weaponry, scientists measure chemicals, engineers scribble across a clear marker board —
If Julia didn't know any better, she'd say they were working on —
"In Sicily, my father was notorious in Corleone's underworld syndicates," Silvio explains. "He forced my brother and I to smuggle kilos of heroin under our clothes across borders. I was six. Six years old and learning the value of hard work, dedication, but most importantly, loyalty. My father was killed not long after by the Albanians, and even though he was gone, his colleagues took my brother and I in and we continued his work.
"We expanded to America," he continues, moving to a set of stairs, "and that unity that existed in our home so long ago continues here today."
Julia joins him in the walk down to the production floor and they wander through the rows of workers who pause as they pass and bow their heads in respect to their leader. And she's impressed when Silvio humbly returns the gesture.
"We are a family," he says to Julia. "You can be part of it, too, if you like. You can have a life here. A good one. You have the chance to make the world a better place. A safer, easier place. You did that tonight. You can do it again."
Julia looks out over the workers, unsure if she truly wants to be part of this.
Did she make the world safer tonight?
Is the world better tonight?
She just wanted to return the Juvenator to its owner and make her family whole again. But the only person better off tonight —
Is her.
She thought if she got the device, she'd be done here and could see her father, maybe even —
Julia spots a control booth on an upper level streaming live feed on their monitors and —
Peter appears and —
Julia's heart jumps.
Peter —
He's alive—
Alive and okay and safe —
He's asleep in bed at home —
(why are you home — )
(why aren't you searching for me? )
(Peter — )
(did you give up on me?)
Julia inhales a breath to calm her churning insides. They have eyes on him. Someone positioned across the street. She wanted to see him when she got the Juvenator from Flash's house but Peter's apartment wasn't on the route laid out on her display and she couldn't risk diverting her path, and she can't give herself away now, there's someone watching him, they could kill him in an instant. She can't turn back now. She can't.
She made the world better tonight. Tonight marks the beginning of reuniting people with loved ones. She made the world better, and she can do it again.
She will do it again.
"Even if it hurts people you love?" She asks Silvio.
"You are doing this for the people you love," he says.
Julia nods absently as she meanders down an aisle of chemists swirling flasks and pouring them into small vials.
"You and Doctor Marshall were the last ones to be in the Juvenator's presence and, to his best knowledge, the whereabouts of the device were practically nonexistent," Silvio says, following her. "And then you find it in one night… How?"
Julia scoffs and picks up a vial from a centrifuge. "Maybe because Simon was a bit preoccupied with Captain America beating his ass," she mumbles, inspecting the freshly mixed compound. She glances at Silvio standing perfectly still, his hands gripping the silver skull of his cane and a brow nearly reaching his receding grey hairline, and she pops the vial back into the machine. "Sorry."
He chuckles softly. "Do not fret about your new colleague and the disagreements between you. You will have what you seek."
"And what might that be?"
"Sir," a voice says, interrupting their conversation, and Silvio turns to the man.
"Ah! Meraviglioso! Julia, I want you to meet the genius behind your abilities. This is Val Cooper, our engineering specialist, and Doctor Jonas Harrow who I believe you met not long ago."
Julia looks at the two men and recognizes Harrow from before. And someone mentioned Val earlier but she knows him farther back than a few days.
"Queens' golden girl," Val says, stepping forward and shaking her hand. "It's a pleasure to finally see you in action, Julia."
"I know you," she says, remembering his light hair and dark smirk. "You're the one who talked to me that day before school."
"And you were very helpful. I hear you are that way again, returning our Juvenator to us."
"I've heard a lot about you as well," Doctor Harrow says, reaching to shake her hand.
Julia looks him over. She remembers Doctor Connors not being very fond of him, and the way he treated her as a patient tells her all she needs to know about him.
She grips his hand tightly in her own. "No offense, but I've never heard of you."
He laughs. "I wouldn't expect you to."
"Doctor Harrow is known for his…" Silvio pauses, searching for the right word. "exploratory procedures. And your abilities are not his first trip round the merry-go-round."
Julia looks at him questioningly, and Doctor Harrow nods toward the other side of the warehouse. She looks at Silvio and he nods once in approval. She turns and begins walking away with the doctor as Val steals Silvio's attention to a document in his hands. Julia's curiosity grows but she doesn't dare ask what they're working on.
"Meet Hammerhead," Doctor Harrow says.
Julia follows his gaze, her eyes settling on a man much larger than the other soldiers around him. She tries not to stare at the misshappenness of his square head.
"I found Mr. Hammer one night, dying in a back alley. He was disfigured and delirious with pain. I operated on him for three days, replacing his skull with Vibranium. When he woke, all he could remember was an old movie poster from the alley."
Julia watches the man, Hammerhead, assemble his assault rifle in record time. "He doesn't even know his name?" She asks.
"No," Silvio says.
Julia looks at him suddenly standing nearby. Her eyes travel around the area he was previous standing and notices Val has disappeared.
"But we gave him one," he continues, moving closer, and directs Julia's attention to Hammerhead again. "We gave him a purpose, a home. We are a bunch of misfits like yourself and from nothing, we have created everything."
Julia looks over the production lines of workers moving like clockwork, like a team, like a family. And they helped her, they made her stronger, they're working to bring back her mom —
"Now tell me," Silvio says. He places a firm hand on her shoulder. "Do you still want to see that boy?"
Julia grips her mask tightly in her hands. She looks down at the black fabric and white eyes. Everything used to be so simple, black and white, good and bad. But now…
She looks up at the control station, at the monitors filled with Peter blissfully asleep.
"He made his choice." Julia looks up at Silvio. "I've made mine."
Silvio smiles and squeezes her shoulder. He looks out over the busy warehouse —
His home —
Hammerhead's home —
Her home.
"Welcome to the Commission, Arachne."
Simon shows Julia to her private sleeping quarters and she waits as he punches the code into the keypad outside. The door is thick and metal like all the others in this place and unlocks with a mechanical hiss. He pushes it open to reveal a simple bedroom and as Julia wanders around inside, she discovers it at least has a bathroom separate from the communal washroom (she hasn't seen many women soldiers, the sexist bastards).
"From now on, either myself, Hammerhead, or one of the docs will come to you if your services are needed. Don't wander the compound, don't leave the compound, and don't go poking around like the wanna-be-know-it-all you are. Feeding times are at six, noon, and six. Don't be late or there won't be any left. Even for you."
Julia flashes him a tight lipped smile and he leaves, shutting the door behind him with a loud clank. She looks around the concrete room. The compound feels less like a home and more like a prison now that she's complied.
(but compliance will be rewarded — )
(compliance is always rewarded — )
Julia removes her suit and steps into the shower. She doesn't know the last time she showered. She doesn't even know what day it is, but the water is familiar on her fingertips. She looks at her hands. Her hands that have known bruises and blood, that have known softness and warmth.
Peter's hands are warm. So warm. And the water is warm on her skin like Peter's that night. That night she patched him up. That night she cleaned his wounds, the water erasing the blood from his sculpted figure and the way he held her hand and kept it close to his chest, holding her like all the other times he's held her hand, not keeping her there but being there if she wanted to stay and she wanted to stay, she —
She presses her forehead to the tiled wall.
(Peter — )
(come back — )
(come back for me — )
(why are you not coming back for me?)
Julia turns off the shower, slips into Commission issued nightwear, and crawls into bed. She tosses and turns for what must be hours. Her brain can't seem to shut off the endless stream of questions about what Silvio's working on and what that meeting in his office was about and what Val was showing him and why are the scientists creating so much of whatever they're creating and and and —
The door to her room unlocks with a metal clank and not a moment passes before Julia hears the others emerging from their rooms and howling down the hall to the cafeteria. A window near the ceiling in her room shows first signs of daylight and she turns away from it, pressing a pillow over her head.
She just wants to sleep but the soldiers are so loud, she groans as she pushes off the covers and stands from the bed. She changes into a pair of pants and walks the empty halls, following their commotion to the cafeteria. She might as well get food if she's going to be awake.
There's a soft murmur of TVs playing the news overhead and quiet whispers behind her back that she ignores. The buffet station is pretty picked over and the cook stares at her with nonexistent sympathy.
Julia picks an apple from an abundant pile and turns to leave, glancing at the tables packed full of Commission soldiers. And now that she's closer and not looking at them from above, she sees their faces: tired and scowling. She recognizes a few from a while back, a group that escaped prison, a double homicide, an armed robbery, and they're all staring at her.
They're staring back and nudging others around them too and they look up at her and —
"Sources say a masked vigilante entered his home — "
Julia looks up at the TV and a sinking pit forms in her stomach. She looks across the room to another TV with a different news show but they're reporting the same story.
"This just in: A case of battery and assault — "
"Harold Thompson — "
"Masked vigilante — "
"Dangerous — "
"Is nowhere safe?"
Julia clenches her fists.
They're talking about her.
They're talking about her and they have no idea what dangerous is —
"Man, you gotta be kiddin' me!"
Julia's eyes slide over to a man at the back of the room.
"Girl, you know how hard we work?!" Another voices.
"She don't know!"
Murmurs of agreeance breakout amongst the sea of convict-turned-soldiers.
"Maybe it's time we teach her!"
Another wave erupts, louder, more confident this time, and Julia rolls her eyes at the massing followers rising from their seats. "Really, guys?" She says. "I just wanted to join you nice people for some breakfast."
"Should have gotten here on time then," the man says.
Julia glances behind her, sensing soldiers encroaching from all sides. She looks at one of the larger men. "Did you get enough to eat? You don't look like you got enough. Here, take this." Julia throws the apple at him and he catches it out of reflex —
And Julia to web his arms to his sides.
Another soldier comes at her with a lunch tray and she fires a web, sticking it to the surface, and pulls —
He smacks another man in the face with the tray.
Someone comes up behind her and —
Julia ducks, firing a web at their back as they stumble forward and —
The momentum hurls her with them and —
She kicks a nearing soldier away and —
Another grabs at her ankle.
Julia jumps, pulling herself away and sticking to the ceiling, and recognizes the man as one who spoke out earlier. The one who doubted she knew the value of hard work.
As if she hasn't been working for her future her entire life —
As if she didn't work to discover Simon —
As if she didn't risk her life again and again —
She fires a web at the man's feet and pulls, yanking him to the ground. He hits his head on a table on the way down and Julia webs his arms to his sides. He grunts and groans at his injuries as he tries to worm his way out of the webbing, and she webs his mouth shut for good measure. He stops struggling, his eyes closing in defeat, and Julia crouches down next him.
"Man, you know how hard I work?" She taunts with a smile. He huffs and puffs, but doesn't dare look her in the eye.
In fact, no else dares to come near her.
Julia stands, proudly looking around the room with hoards of men cowering to the walls. She senses a figure behind her and turns to find Lonnie standing in the doorway (and her standing in the wreckage of bodies). All he does is nod his head over his shoulder and Julia knows she's busted.
She sighs heavily and kickflips a lunch tray into her hands. As she leaves, she snaps it in two and throws the shards behind her like a frisbee. The trays pierce the wall with two thuds followed by a man's frightful yelp.
She joins Lonnie in the corridor and walks with him to Silvio's office.
"If they didn't know before," he says slowly, "they know now."
Julia looks up at the pale man. It's the first time he's ever said anything to her, and it leaves her with a smile. She wonders how long he stood there watching the fight go down.
He opens the door for her, a knowing, almost proud smirk on his face, and she steps into the office, scoffing at the fact she's made a friend in this sinkhole and that she's working with the people who tried to kill her.
Simon leans against Silvio's empty desk and lowers his hand from his scarred face. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Julia grins. "I do actually. I got your device. You're welcome."
"He gave you up," Hammerhead growls. "Ratted you out to the cops!"
"There are so many things wrong with that," she mutters. "Okay, number one: he didn't describe the masked vigilante. Two: he is a cop, he was in your inner circle, how you missed that oversight, I have no idea, and three: he said he wouldn't give names, so, I saved your ass!"
"Doesn't matter if we all end up behind bars!"
Julia gestures to the relatively quiet warehouse. "Do you see the FBI at our door?"
Simon stands upright, suddenly formal and courteous, and Julia doesn't even have to look behind her to know Silvio walks into the room.
"Sir, I warned you of the repercussions of sending a girl to do a soldier's job."
"Is your masculinity really that fragile?" Julia sneers.
"She was careless," he continues, "got herself on the news!"
"He reported nothing stolen!"
"That's cause none of this is on the books," Hammerhead reminds her.
Julia's mouth twitches in a scowl.
Silvio walks around his desk, moving slower than she remembers and relying on his cane more. He lowers himself into his chair and if Julia didn't know any better, she'd say he was deaf and can't hear a word they're saying.
"Why do you think he reported it to begin with?" Simon questions. "He wanted Spider-Man to know. He wants to talk to him. This is why we don't leave witnesses."
Julia stares at him. "I won't apologize for sparing a man's life." And before she even finished her sentence, Simon is shaking his head and turning away from her to the pane of glass windows.
"Sir, we know the kid will be there," Hammerhead says.
Julia clenches her fists to keep herself from dangling the soldier from a web over the production lines.
"He'll go this afternoon, they'll talk, and we can kill two birds with one stone."
Julia's heart lurches. Panic floods through her. "You don't have to do this," she pleads.
"He is right," Silvio croaks.
She looks at him, and what once was an expression of calmality and boredom is clear and focused.
"This must be remedied."
(Peter — )
(please — )
(please no — )
(not him — )
Julia steps toward him. "I did what you asked — "
"By any means necessary?"
"Is killing necessary?"
A silence stretches over the room, and Julia looks at each of the grown men, wondering where their sense of dignity hides.
"We don't leave witnesses," Simon repeats, and as Hammerhead nods in agreeance, Julia realizes they lost their humanity a long time ago, even willingly gave it up for the lives they lead. If this is what it costs to get her mother back, she won't pay it.
"Simon, I want you on point. Hammer as your second."
Julia gawks at the decrepit man. "Silvio — "
"Thank you, sir." Simon nods once and leaves the room with Hammerhead, saying, "Gear up squad: Alpha. I want this quick and clean — "
"Silvio," Julia repeats, and he doesn't even look at her. She thinks of what made him listen to the others and she hates herself for having to stoop so low, for losing the relationship she had with him. "Sir. Permission to attend — "
"No, Julia," he says, irritation and tiredness overcoming him. "Let them take care of this. You have done enough."
But she did what he wanted —
She got it back —
No one had to die —
No one needs to die —
And now Peter —
"Escort her to her room."
Julia snaps out of her trance and realizes Lonnie is at her side, his iron grip around her arm, and he's guiding her backwards, pulling her away from this room and her one chance of saving his life and she wants to scream, she wants to tear this place apart and tear Silvio apart but she can't, not yet, she has to go, she has to, she —
She has to save him.
Julia reaches a hand to her neck and slides the inhibitor off.
And she and Lonnie are thinking the same thing.
If they thought she was dangerous before, it's time she teaches them what dangerous really means.
{ Peter }
"Oh, God…"
Peter watches, horrified, as Mr. Thompson grimaces at the pain and the blood pouring from his shoulder. He presses his hands to the wound to stop the bleeding and he can't help but think of Uncle Ben —
(stop it — )
(shut up — )
"Is there an exit wound?" Mr. Thompson huffs.
Peter carefully rolls him onto his side and looks at the red seeping onto his clothes. "Yeah," he answers. "Yeah, there's a disgusting, massive hole in your back."
"Then I'm okay." Mr. Thompson lies back down, his eyes closing with relief. "I'm okay."
The hair's on the back of Peter's neck stand up again —
And he flinches down —
And bullets fly overhead —
And a vase shatters in the kitchen —
Peter moves Mr. Thompson out of the shooter's line of fire, helping him sit upright against the fireplace. He slides off his backpack, pulling out his web-shooters, and slaps them onto his wrists.
"My gun," Mr. Thompson says. "It's in that drawer."
Peter looks to where he's pointing, aims at the dresser, shoots, and pulls the whole drawer over to them.
"That works."
Peter cringes a little at the mess he's creating. "Uh… Sorry." He takes the gun and places it in Mr. Thompson's hand. "You sure you're okay?"
"Just go. I'll call this in."
"Cool. Teamwork makes the dream work." He turns to leap into action but Mr. Thompson grabs his arm.
"Peter."
And the way he says it —
Something in his voice —
Maybe it's the fact he was shot but he sounds serious, more determined.
Peter looks at him.
"The Juvenator's gone."
Peter shakes his head, and a smile bursts from him because —
She was the one who took it —
And both she and the machine are gone but —
"Nothing's ever really gone," Peter says.
Mr. Thompson attempts a smile. "I hope you find her."
"If I'm lucky, one of them out there will know where she is." Peter grabs his mask from his backpack and slips it on over his head.
"Be careful."
"I'm always careful!" He moves out from the cover of the fireplace and a gunshot rings out —
He dives toward the other side of the room and feels the bullet whirring past, and looks to the wall the casing is now buried in. "Gotta more careful," he mumbles. "Karen, what are we up against?"
"I'm detecting five hostiles." A view of the house from a bird's eyes view appears in Peter's display with five heat signatures surrounding the house and closing in.
"Are any of them — "
"No."
Peter sighs —
He can't think of that now —
He can't think of her now —
He focuses on the two at the back of the house and springs to his feet, firing a web and thrusting himself into the kitchen as the back door flings open and —
Peter kicks the guy in his chest, pushing him to the ground, and knocking the gun from the other guy's hands. Peter's legs are swiped out from under him and —
He rolls backward, flipping onto his feet, and webbing the soldier down.
"Alright, so, we got off on the wrong foot."
The second soldier comes at him and Peter tenses when he pulls out a knife.
"I see we're not a fan of puns."
The man lunges at him and Peter dodges it, grabbing his arm, and webbing it behind his back. Peter watches as he stumbles and falls to the ground. "I'm sorry, you've just — You've twisted my arm."
Another shot rings out from the front of the house and Peter turns back to the living room to check on Mr. Thompson and —
A bullet flies through the window and pierces the wall next to Peter.
He flinches back and stares at the bullet hole that could have been in head but missed him by a fraction of an inch, and —
It wasn't him that moved.
He looks to the direction it came from and sees movement through the broken window.
"Karen, zoom in on that."
And there —
Across the street —
Lies the shooter on the roof.
{ Julia }
Julia web-slings across town as fast as she can create them. Her lungs ache, her legs burn, but she keeps going, she has to —
She slings blind so The Commission can't trace her, relying solely on memory to direct her to Flash's neighborhood. Rows of houses appear, and she hears the soldiers thoughts and Mr. Thompson's thoughts and —
And him —
It's him —
Peter —
(is he really making puns mid fight?)
Julia swings herself in the direction of the fight and hears Hammerhead stationed across from the house tucked behind the ridgeline of the roof. She lands on an adjacent house and keeps low out of sight, tucking and rolling across the shingles.
But she senses Hammerhead's finger on the trigger.
C'mon, kid. Just one more step.
Julia's chest rises and falls with fast breaths, anger heating its way through her —
(don't you dare — )
Mr. Thompson —
Peter —
I gotta check on him —
No —
Peter, don't —
Excitement grows within Hammerhead as panic rises within Julia —
She lunges from her hiding spot, slinging herself next-door and shooting another web that grabs the tip of Hammerhead's gun and moves it away from him just enough to miss Peter.
Julia silently skids across a porch, disintegrating the webbing before Hammerhead even gets a chance to trace it back to her.
The hell?
Hammerhead —
Simon stares at him. "Take the shot!" He yells.
"I did!"
"You missed?!"
"Shut up!"
Julia can't help but smile at the victory. She can still hear Peter, thinking and alive and —
And looking this way.
Simon and Hammerhead bicker back and forth until Simon's on the move, scrambling down from his position on the roof, muttering, "If you want something done right…"
"Shit," Julia mutters. She shoots a web and throws herself into the Thompson's house, slipping through an open window and landing silently on the wood floor. The remaining soldiers have to be taken out before Simon gets here or Peter will be overwhelmed with opposition.
A soldier sweeps the hallway and Julia tucks herself against the wall as the tip of a rifle pushes open the door. She holds her breath as the soldier steps further into the room until she grabs the barrel of the gun, flinging the soldier forward and onto the bed. She webs him face down and slips out of the room silent and undetected.
Julia slips down the hall to help with the next assailant and sees him. Peter's red and blue form punches, flips, and kicks against the soldiers. Her soldiers. She's supposed to be working with them, but she can't. Not when they're working against him.
One emerges from the hall, coming up behind Peter, and Julia swipes their legs out from under them and bounds out of sight into a bathroom. She presses herself against the tiled wall, listening to the bombardment of thoughts painting a picture of the fight as if she were in it herself.
What the hell?
Peter —
That wasn't me, was it?
She can feel the confusion coming from him —
His eagerness of not being alone —
His adrenaline of the fight —
His focus on webbing the soldier —
Julia tilts her head back and closes her eyes. Her muscles ache from swinging across New York but it's nothing compared to the hole in her chest. She's wanted to be near him for so long and now she is, she's so close, and he has no idea —
He has no idea she's here, he has no idea what she's done, why this is happening, why he's in danger and it's her fault —
It's all her fault —
Julia's eyes snap open.
Sirens wail down the street —
Tires squeal on pavement —
Officers race toward the scene —
And Hammerhead's priming his weapon.
Julia glances down the hall. Peter's occupied with Simon, flipping around the room to avoid being punched. She quickly escapes through the window she came through and swings across the street to Hammerhead, covers the bullet chamber with webbing, and continues on her way as though she was never here.
You've got to be kidding…
Julia smiles at Hammerhead's string of profanity.
Police cars skid to a stop in front of the Thompson's house, lights flashing, sirens blaring —
And Simon and Hammerhead and the soldiers are on the ropes —
"Simon, get out of there now!"
"Retreat!"
"Screw this!"
Julia swings back to base, hoping she returns before the others and no one will ever know she left.
Because she stopped it. Peter's alive and she stopped it, they stopped it.
But she also caused it.
She doesn't deserve to be grateful he's alive, Peter could have died —
Peter could have died —
And it's her fault.
{ Peter }
There isn't time to change back into normal clothes. The police are already here and storming into the house. Peter kneels next to Mr. Thompson who's held up pretty well but he's lost a lot of blood. He stays with him until the paramedics lift him onto a gurney and carry him outside.
"Things could have been a whole lot worse," an officer says. "Glad you were here, Spider-Man."
Peter looks at the uniformed woman but doesn't feel very glad to be here. Someone got hurt because of him.
And then he sees her hand extended toward him.
"Oh." He shakes her hand with a nervous laugh. "Y-you know me. Wrong time, wrong place."
She chuckles and moves on to talk with a detective, but Peter stands still and looks at the hallway. The hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention and he knows someone else was here. But they were gone before he could see them like a shadow disappearing in the night.
"Karen, who was that?" He asks in a low voice.
"I couldn't get a reading. A frequency was hindering my sensors."
He sighs, but nods. "It's okay. I'll review the footage later."
Peter swings outside and watches the first responders load Mr. Thompson into the ambulance. Guilt pricks his insides that his classmate's dad was hurt so badly, but then Mr. Thompson motions for the medics to stop and gestures for Peter to approach.
Peter looks around the street filled with police officers and points to himself. "Me?"
Mr. Thompson chuckles and nods. Peter shoots a web, swinging closer, and walks the last few steps over to him. The man shakes his hand and this time without having to say anything, Peter knows someone was grateful he was there.
And he feels something metal between their clasped palms.
And there's a smirk on Mr. Thompson's face.
"Go get 'em, Spider-Man."
Peter's brow furrows and he opens his mouth to ask what he means but the medics raise him into the ambulance and shut the doors between them. Peter watches as the lights flick on and the siren blares as the ambulance drive away toward the hospital.
Peter looks down at his hand and opens his palm to find a flash drive tucked inside.
"Holy shit."