And here we go, with the last chapter of Iolaus! After this I'll be taking a break from posting to build up the chapters for Strange Encounters. :)

Peter was snapped back to reality when he felt a gentle hand lay softly on his shoulder, and he looked back up to see Pepper. There was something indiscernible in her expression, but the one thing he couldn't mistake was the relief on her face at the pleasant verdict. His gaze drifted over to the others as they came up and past, and though he could tell they were more than pleased, the mutant could feel some tension in the air. Thinking back on the situation, he supposed the tension was warranted; he had tried to get himself imprisoned while they had been fighting for his freedom. The former asset couldn't help but wonder when he would be confronted on those thoughts.

But that seemed to be tabled for another day, as the high spirits far outweighed the concerns. With the stress of what the UN would say out of the way, the optimism of the heroes was infectious. His left leg still ached but it was easy to brush to the side in the face of the weight that had lightened on his chest. The guilt was still there, and Peter could feel it if he focused on it, but it was consoled by the knowledge that he could finally do better by those deaths. At least enough to make up for what he'd helped do.

As they were leaving through the door into the lobby, T'Challa met up with them, a broad smile on his face. He no longer wore the judge robes and was instead in a casual suit attire. The others went up to the man and thanked him for his help, and the king modestly brushed their appraisal off with a simple, "It was what should have been done. I am sure it would have gone well regardless. Mr. Glazkov and Ms. Collins were quite fair."

"I'm glad to know you feel that way, T'Challa," Ms. Collins mused, approaching the group. She was no longer in judge robes, wearing a casually formal shirt and pants. A small smile was on her face as she brushed her cropped dirty blonde hair to the side, gray eyes showing a spark of mischief that had otherwise not been there during the proceedings. "Though, you are correct; it was what should've been done." Her gaze drifted to Peter, and she added, "You deserve another chance regardless of what you might believe, Peter Parker."

Peter kept his eyes firmly trained to Ms. Collins as she gave her statement, and fought the urge to look away when she finished. He still didn't quite believe he did, but the decision had already been made. He would have to make the most of it. His voice was still gone from his outburst earlier, but he gently tapped a thanks. He was really beginning to regret absentmindedly leaving his phone behind in the car.

"You're welcome," she responded, though a small sigh escaped her lips. "With the verdict, though, comes some... other things that need to be addressed."

Tony frowned. "Are they bad things, Ms. Collins?"

"Call me Cora. Fortunately, they aren't; but they are legalities." Cora gestured with a hand to bring them away from the lobby and into one of the side hallways and to an empty room, since it wasn't a conversation that needed any bystanders. Once the group had complied, she continued, "I will need to pull some strings, but I should be capable of getting you all of Peter's legal papers within the next few days. In a normal circumstance, the papers would usually be with CPS and granted to guardians as they saw fit. However, you won't be going through CPS, seeing as the circumstance is more complicated. Since you have been granted temporary guardianship, I'd like to give them to you as soon as possible." She sat down on one of the chairs that had been in the room, running a hand down her face. "Though it will unfortunately take a bit to get them active again."

"Because he was missing, right?" Wanda asked, curious.

Cora shook her head. "No, it's because he was legally declared dead."

At that, they blinked, and despite his voice protesting, Peter croaked out, "What?"

Cora frowned at the confusion. "...None of you knew? There was an obituary and a burial for one Peter Benjamin Parker ten and a half years ago."

Vision piped up, "I believe I have found the article you were mentioning." The android's face fell as he scanned through the paper that only he could see. Once he finished, a frown dressed his face. "That is quite unfortunate."

"Wasn't he a missing person's case?" Steve asked, brow furrowed. "I wasn't around at the time, but from what I knew of the situation, I thought the case would've been left cold and unresolved."

"That was how it originally started," Cora said, before realizing she would need to explain the story in full. "On the night of November 8th, 2006, a car accident had been reported on the corner of 193rd Street and Union Turnpike, right next to Cunningham Park, at 5:37 PM. By the time police arrived, a small crowd had gathered around the car. An ambulance had also been called, but Benjamin Franklin Parker and May Parker were found dead at the scene. Witnesses had allegedly claimed that a young child had been with the occupants, and had been taken away after the only other living survivor, Ben, was shot dead. The men had been disguised by the dark surroundings and their concealing clothing, but it was presumed Peter was still alive when taken. The NYPD took the case up immediately and began the search, and even sent out an Amber alert. They acted as swiftly as they could, but were not optimistic; 88.5% of abducted children are dead within the first 24 hours. The search went on for three days, when their efforts were halted by an abandoned building being lit on fire. Upon extinguishing the fire, along with a substantial amount of ash, the only other remains were four teeth from Peter." Her eyes had drifted to Peter as she had went on, and an almost apologetic tone laced her words. "The ashes were plentiful enough for someone of Peter's size and height, but couldn't be tied to a body. With the other searches for him running into dead ends, the worst was assumed, and Peter was declared dead in absentia. It was quite the sad story; a twice orphaned missing child being killed after being kidnapped. The missing person's case was concluded and a death certificate was made. As there was no one else from the family that could be considered an heir, the assets were claimed and distributed by the state."

The end of the story left a sour taste in their mouths, and Peter felt floored. He could remember they had taken a few of his teeth two days after he'd been taken, but hadn't really thought of what it would be used for. A sick feeling built up in his stomach at the thought that they had been used to fake his own death. He couldn't help the sardonic laugh that rang at the back of his skull, though, upon hearing the statistic. We didn't die within the first 24 hours, Weaver chimed wryly, But it was met eventually, thrice. I suppose a death certificate for you is appropriate.

Thanks, I needed the reminder that I've died before. I would've forgotten had you not so helpfully brought it up. Peter thought back, a mild annoyance sparking up at the thought.

"That's unfortunate," Natasha remarked from where she sat, leaned casually against Bruce with her legs resting on Clint's lap. "Would Peter be liable to get any of the assets back since he's been found alive?"

Cora nodded. "The old buildings his family used to own and many of their items, no. But the life insurance can be claimed, as well as the money that would've become his inheritance. There are a few items that are Parker property that could be taken back, I suppose, though you would need to bring it up with the people that held on to the items."

"What were the items, and who has them?" Tony asked curiously.

"A small box of VHS tapes, the research from Richard and Mary that Ben and May had held onto, a photo album, and several framed pictures were granted to Nicholas Fury, given his relation to the family. An old suitcase of Ben's, a box of vinyls May collected, and a small camera Peter had were granted to Jonah and Chesa Leeds, family friends of Ben and May," Cora listed off, before adding, "I'm unsure if they would still possess the items, but if they do, if Peter wants, he can claim them once more." A wry smile crossed her face. "It might be in your best interest to let the Leeds know Peter is alive, at some point. While they hadn't known Peter long, since he only lived with his aunt and uncle for four months, they kept insisting he was alive. It wouldn't hurt to prove them right." She frowned, before adding, "It might also do good to look into getting the grave revoked as well, as it is no longer validated."

"Alright, thank you for letting us know." Pepper concluded.

She stood to leave, shaking their hands, taking Peter's last. "I wish you the best of luck, young man. I'll do my best to assist where I can during the probation to ensure you get to enjoy life after being away from it for so long. It's the least I can do," Cora straightened, then gave them a wave. "You know how to contact me. Let me know if you need anything else. I will nullify the death certificate and get everything else back up and running, and deliver the paperwork to the Compound in a few days. So, for now, I bid you farewell." With one last smile, the U.S. ambassador left, and a few minutes later, so too did the heroes.

On the ride back home, Tony and Pepper had called ahead to the Compound to let the staff know the news, and asked them to be on the lookout for packages as they would arrive. They sat in the back with Peter and, on the return trip, spent time quietly talking to the mutant as they shopped around to get him the basics. Peter had no preferences, since he'd mostly forgotten a lot of what he had once liked, and wasn't entirely sure what he would like now, but he had asked for longer clothes and some equipment he could have in his room for tinkering with the prosthetics once they were completed. After that he'd been dismissed from picking out items and stared out at the late April evening, half-listening to the conversations and unaware of what else any of his new keepers would be getting him.

When they got to the Compound, Peter felt a rush of clarity brush his thoughts as the true gravity of the situation truly began to settle on him. He'd be living in this building and with these people for a long time... and for once, the thought of being stuck in one place with many people was comforting. It would take a while, but when Peter thought of the Compound, he admitted to himself that he might one day be swayed to call it a home. Who knows? Maybe you'll find a family in them, too. Weaver chimed as an afterthought.

They met up with the others in the common room, and Peter drew himself short when he saw the welcome banner slung across the ceiling, with a few balloons. Food was set out on the counters, and a few small gifts were sat on a side table. Peter was, at first, surprised at how fast it had been set up, but after recalling how many people worked at the Compound, it wasn't that outrageous to assume they could've decorated during the long drive. A constricted feeling twisted in Peter's chest, but it wasn't melancholy; it was a quiet fondness that he couldn't quite place what it was directed to, the gesture or the providers. The former asset supposed it was both.

The welcome party was tame, with only the Avengers and a few close associates, to prevent it from being too overwhelming. He got to hear parts of a mission between Natasha and Clint to Budapest, watched an arm-wrestling contest between Steve and Bucky, and was introduced to Hope van Dyne and Hank Pym by Scott, both of whom had, at first, looked intimidating, but had turned out to be kind (Peter hadn't been fooled by their external appearance, though; it was easy to see through the formalities and find the nice natures behind it). He listened as the heroes told stories of past excursions, learned of T'Challa's country and sister, and watched the Mario Kart duel that broke out between Sam, Scott, Wanda, and Clint. A small smile had brushed his face as Rhodey recounted one of Tony's embarrassing stories from college (though Peter had mostly been confused by the story, it was funny watching the usually level-headed Tony get flustered), and when he had moved off to the side to inspect some of the books around the room, Vision had been helpful in giving him synopses.

The food was delicious, and of all kinds of varieties, many of which Peter hadn't really seen or tasted before. The one he found himself most drawn to was pizza, however. He'd tried a slice out of curiosity, and had grown enraptured by the meal, the food easily becoming his favorite. Pepper came in and out, moving among the party and then moving away to do something. When asked, she had only said that it was important, so the question wasn't pursued further.

Eventually, the gifts were gotten to. They weren't the most extravagant things; a small chemistry set, a watch, some jackets and hoodies. The gesture wasn't lost on Peter despite the slightly generic items. He supposed that when he had more things he liked they would get more refined later, if he ever got gifts later. The gift-giving was a new novel concept to the mutant. The sincerity of the gesture made Peter happy, and he decided that the only thing that really mattered to him was that it made him happy, and it made them happy. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, but it was one the assassin wasn't keen to let go of.

As the party began to dwindle down, there was one last surprise, and he was led through the living quarters until they came upon a door with a new tag on it, marked in dark red and blue colors as 'Peter's room'. The door was opened for him so he could wheel into the room, and he was breathless when he did. It was a simple room, really, but it was large. Some wheelchair accessibility had been built in, with a rack off to the side should the vehicle ever be needed again in the future after he got his prosthetics back. A large bed sat off to the side, covered in a dark blue bed set and draped in a weighted dark red blanket. He was shown over to the closet, where clothes had been sorted and neatly stashed away. There was a corner of the room that was tiled instead of carpeted that housed a small working station, where the chemistry set was sat, and the box of equipment for fixing prosthetics was laid, along with drawers of other screws, lug nuts, tools, and metal sheets. A window was beside the desk, and a red desk lamp hung from the wall, a small pile of books illuminated under the warm glow of the light. A computer and a laptop were sitting on the longer end of the desk, away from the workshop components, and that end of the desk was bordered by a lightly filled bookshelf.

"You can decorate your room as you please," Pepper affirmed, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, "But we made do with what was available. Do you like it?"

Peter stared at the room with a warm, tingly feeling he couldn't quite identify caught in his chest. But what he did know was that it was the best room he had ever had the pleasure of living in, though, in hindsight, that wasn't a high standard to clear. The thought that all of this was his to use, only his, and that he could do with the room as he pleased was one that he knew the feeling for; appreciation. He couldn't imagine he would ever take that feeling for granted.

So, with a smile cracking across his face, he managed to say, "Yes. Thank you so much."

A few days had gone by, and Tony had deemed the prosthetics well enough to work, even though they weren't as finished as he would've liked. Peter hadn't minded, though; he was getting a bit stir-crazy being limited to the wheelchair, and was willing to take the prosthetics with less features at the moment more than being restricted to the wheeled assistance. They had agreed to work on it more sporadically going forward, so he wouldn't be stuck down two functional limbs. The prosthetics lacked the sticky grip, and the web-shooter hadn't been implemented into the arm, but they were capable of moving around, so Peter hadn't minded. Upon screwing and clamping the prosthetics on, though, some differences were immediately noticeable; they responded better to the chips, and were lighter than the last version. The small muted gold and metallic blue accents also had more personality than the plain metallic gray ones he used to have, and that was something the mutant appreciated, since they were also visually distinct from what they had given him. It felt more lively.

Since he was more mobile now, though, the inevitable could no longer be prolonged. Tony and Pepper were taking him to visit the Calvary Cemetery in Queens, and the closer they got, the more nervous Peter became. His left hand fidgeted along the plating of his right hand, and it was only the presence of mind that he wasn't going alone that prevented his anxieties from ratcheting higher. Nevertheless, the car arrived, and after asking an attendant, the graves were found. Tony and Pepper, after leaving a bouquet on the graves, told the mutant they were going to be nearby and left him alone with the tombstones.

His gaze traced the names etched in stone, trailing along his parents, first and foremost, then panning over to his aunt and uncle... and finally resting on his own. It was odd, seeing his own grave, resting in the arms of the rest of his long-buried family. A small note had been etched under the date of his supposed death, 'Gone, but not forgotten. May the afterlife be pleasant to the child claimed too soon.' Wasn't that an ironic statement? He supposed it was meant to be kind, but it was painfully accurate. He was gone, and had miraculously not been forgotten. He had been claimed too soon, but he was alive now, after dying, and the afterlife was looking more favorable now. He wondered who had chosen that to be on his tombstone, since it couldn't have been his family.

He knelt gently down in front of the graves, hands folded awkwardly in his lap as he cleared his throat. "Uh... hey... Dad? Mom? Aunt May and... Uncle Ben?" he whispered out, brow furrowed. They hadn't been his relatives for ten and a half years; was it still appropriate to call them by those titles?

Frowning, he started again. "Hi, Richard, Mary, Ben, and May. It's... it's Peter," one of his hands reached to scratch at the back of his neck as he quietly continued, "Y-your, uh... son and nephew. Remember me? I... hope you do, or... this is going to be awkward..."

It's already awkward, Weaver remarked. You're pretty good at that.

Ignoring the thought, Peter shifted in his spot. "A-Anyways, uh... I... I know it's been a while. Ten years, five months, and twenty-one days, to be precise... uh... sorry I couldn't visit sooner? I was... preoccupied." He winced internally at that last thought. Preoccupied was the polite way of putting it.

The mutant then felt bad about lying to the graves, so he amended, "Well, I, uh... I mean... I... I was in the hands of some pretty bad people for a while," his voice was barely discernible, edged in cracks. "Like, really bad. I-I'm sure Richard and Mary, you... you probably knew who they were." The thought that they had been SHIELD agents was still something he was trying to wrap his head around. He shifted again, picking at the plating on his right hand. "May, Ben... I, uh..." he frowned, brow furrowed.

His frame began to tremble as he clutched his arms tighter and scrunched in on himself. "I... I'm sorry." The choked words came out before he could stop them, and he could feel the guilt threaten to eat him alive when faced with the reality of the situation. A dark storm swirled in his head, and his lips kept spilling the thoughts as they came in a desperate attempt to stop the storm before it became a hurricane. "If... if it weren't for me being the way I am, maybe you guys could've lived..." his fingers were clenched tightly around his arms, and he was too numb to register the bruising his strong grip was giving his flesh hand. "They wanted me, y-you guys didn't have to die because of that..."

Peter hunched in on himself, the thunder in his head growing louder and louder. "I-if I had just been born normal, maybe they would've left you guys alone. B-but instead I-I had to be born with these weird... these scary instincts and these weird powers and n-now you're all dead and I'm a killing machine and they were the ones who ruined us but they wouldn't have been tempted had I not been messed up in the first place-"

His thoughts were interrupted by a rain drop hitting his nose, and he blinked back to reality, the oppressive darkness that had been encroaching on him receding back into the moody gray clouds that had gathered overhead. An April shower, just before May. A small snort built in his chest, and a broken chortle left his lips as he reared his head back, eyes closed, to the skies. His laugh was only heard by himself, since his voice had all but vanished on him. When the sudden laughing fit broke away, he wiped a tear and a raindrop away from his cheek, staring at them speculatively. "Was that your way of trying to cheer me up?" he pondered in a whisper, head lightly tilted to the side. A huff left his lips, and he shook his head. "Well, it worked." The rain wasn't more than a drizzle, and it wasn't cold enough to make Peter all that worried about moving out of it at the moment. He pressed the thumb into the dirt lightly. "Thanks, if that was you. I was... going somewhere I don't want to be."

The mutant's thoughts were quieter now, and he sat in a more relaxed position in front of the graves, head tucked between his knees and arms wrapped around his legs until he heard footsteps approaching. His initial thought was that it was Tony and Pepper returning now that there was a drizzle, but he frowned a second later when the gaits were different. He lifted his head to spot Fury and Faulers coming his way, and Peter blinked. He wasn't expecting to see either of them here; for that matter, he wasn't really expecting to see Faulers again.

Both had flowers in their hands, and laid a few beside the graves, before handing him two flowers. "I heard it was polite to bring flowers for the dead," Nick said, though there was a slight smile to his stony features that made Peter certain it was a joke.

And, well, he supposed it was true; he had been dead, both legally and literally. He laid the flowers on his lap before he pulled out his phone and had the TTS read, "'Thanks for the flowers. What are you two doing here?'"

"Paying our respects to some fine men and women. I hope we weren't interrupting?" Fury had phrased it like a question, but it was certainly rhetorical.

"'Not at all. You'd know them better than I do, for that matter. I hope I wasn't interrupting you.'" Peter had meant it, too. Technically, the former SHIELD director had known them longer than he had.

"Funny, Parker," Nick mused. "You're the one we were looking for, actually. We heard you were out visiting your folks, though. It's been a while since I last swung by, I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone."

Peter frowned at the idiom, making a note to Google what it meant later. Instead, he typed out, "'Well, you found me. What did you want?'"

The intimidating man pulled out a large photo album from his coat and handed it to Peter. It was leather-bound and tied together with string, with the words, PARKER FAMILY ALBUM etched in gold on the cover. Peter's fingers hovered hesitantly by the cover, before dropping, staring at Nick in quiet shock. Upon seeing the stare, a small smirk etched itself onto Nick's face. "I heard word that you might want what little of your folks' old things you could get your hands on, so I figured I would take the initiative." He gestured to the album. "I had the research, VHS tapes, and framed photos sent on ahead to your room, but I wanted to give the photo album to you personally. Mary worked tirelessly on it, and I made sure to keep it in good condition."

Peter's mouth went dry, and his fingers edged the cover once more. This time, though, he flipped it open. The first image immediately made his body freeze up. It was a family photo, professionally taken. Ben and May were on the left, and May was laughing about something that Ben had said, while the former had a broad smile on his face. May's glasses were slightly askew, and Ben's tie seemed to be intentionally crooked. Richard and Mary were on the other side, bright grins on both of their faces. In the middle was a young child with scattered freckles that were already beginning to fade and a megawatt smile, grinning up at his family. It took a few moments for his brain to register that it was him. His breathing quieted as he brushed his right hand absentmindedly across the photo as a dim memory flashed through the foggy remnants of his old life, of a warm light-filled place and bubbling laughter, before the metallic hand caught his attention, bringing him back to reality. His gaze fixated on the date, written neatly in the corner alongside the caption of, 'The Parkers'; June 2nd, 2006.

He didn't dare move further into the book, worried about getting lost in his head while still in the cemetery. He closed the book gently, before looking at Nick once more. "Thank you."

Nick seemed happy with that, and clapped Faulers on the shoulder. "I'll leave you two alone, then. I'm going to go let Tony and Pepper know about what I left at the Compound." With that, the man disappeared, leaving him alone with the agent.

Peter shifted slightly, unsure of what to say. Faulers seemed to beat him to the punch, though. "I'm glad." The plain-looking man murmured.

The mutant tilted his head, letting the TTS read out, "'For what?'"

Faulers smiled. "I'm glad that our operation was a success. That all our hard work and effort paid off in the end."

Oh. That's what this conversation will be about. "'It's unfortunate Carmen and Omen didn't make it.'" Peter had the TTS speak, though it lacked the sad note that came with his thought.

Faulers gave a nod to that. "Last and Kahale were good agents," he mused, though added, "But Sariah and Kaleah were better friends. I don't imagine I could've done what needed to be done had they not had my back."

The trembling had come back, and Peter mutely typed, "'Carmen could've made it. Omen was dead when we checked after you left. But Carmen killed herself just to make sure I wouldn't get in trouble, and to cover your tracks.'" His typing had slowed at the memory, and he clenched his eyes shut momentarily. Then, he finished shakily, "'Carmen let me know what you guys were doing. She was the first person to give me hope of freedom in many years. I hate that she had to die for me. I wasn't worth it.'"

Faulers shook his head. "Sariah wouldn't kill herself for nothing, Peter," his voice was gentle and respectful, full of fondness at a bond now lost. "She knew her job would one day be the death of her. Hell, she was with them, at one point. We turned her around to our cause."

Peter recalled her saying something to that effect, but it hadn't really clicked in his head. She had been one of the ones pulling the strings, had been doing bad things, but ultimately decided to use it to do good instead. She died a hero, as far as he was concerned. "'...So she took a bad situation... and made a better opportunity out of it.'" It wasn't a question, but rather a statement. He huffed, his brain making the connection that he was in a similar position, wanting to do the same thing. Would he ultimately die the same way? He wasn't sure.

A pleasant silence had developed between them, but Peter was growing a bit cold now from the light drizzle. He stood, adjusting the photo album to rest between his phoneless arm as he cupped the flowers between his fingers. He wasn't quite finished with the conversation yet. "'I don't know if there's enough words in the languages I know to say how grateful I am for what you guys did. Really.'" He finished typing what he wanted to say, then stared at the cloud-covered skies as it read aloud. "'Without you, I doubt I would have ever made it out. I'd... I'd tried to escape before. You probably knew that, though. It was never successful. I tried for so many years... and boy, do I regret that now. My body and my mind are paying for the disobedience. It was pure luck that you SHIELD agents happened to be there, and it was pure luck that I miraculously lived through it all to take the freedom the opportunity offered, even if it's limited... and broken by trauma.'" He scratched at the back of his neck, before extending his phone-free hand out to Faulers. "'So, thank you. I don't ever think I could repay what you all gave me. But... I'll at least try my best to make it worth it. For those that were lost along the way. Thank you, Faulers, for opening up the way for a second chance.'"

With a bright grin, Faulers took his extended hand and shook it, but then shook his head. "You don't ever need to repay it, Peter. You shouldn't have had to have been subjected to those circumstances in the first place. It's the least we could've done. But, please, call me James. I'd like to think the last name formality has already been passed to first name status, don't you?"

Peter wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. James began to pull away, and he asked one last question. "'Where are you off to, now?'"

James smiled back, before raising his hands and wiggling his fingers. "It's a seeeecreeet." He enthused with a dramatic voice, before rolling his eyes. "Another SHIELD mission, nowhere near as dangerous as the last was. We'll be coordinating with Glazkov to stamp out the last of the fires from Siberia. After that, who knows?" He shrugged. "It'll be an adventure."

Peter shook his head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. "'Good luck, James. Be safe.'"

James laughed. "I should be saying that to you." He got more serious, but the happy countenance never left his face. "You're gonna go far, kid. I've no doubt about that. I can't wait to see what the future has in store." He began to walk off, offering one last wave. "Goodbye, Peter. I hope we meet again."

"'Goodbye, James.'" He had the TTS read, before offering a wave of his own. He pocketed the phone, hugging the photo album close to his chest. Then, his gaze fixed on the graves one last time, and he laid a hand on each of the tombs, including his own. As he pulled back, he whispered, "I'm still a mess, and I'll be lucky to be anything but a disaster... but I'll try my best to make the most of my situation," he placed one of the flowers he'd been given onto his own grave, and tucked the other just beneath the cover of the photo album. "I'll make you proud."

And as he left, going to meet back up with Tony and Pepper, a gentle sunbeam broke through the drizzle to illuminate the flowers gently, and a small breeze stirred. The petals rustled, and with it, came a silent whisper.

You already have.

Wowie that ending got emotional, didn't it?

I.D.'s Fantasy- Well wait no longer, here the chapter is! But I'm excited to keep the story going. :)

merendinoemiliano- Happy New Year!

AimaZero- Ugh, thanks. I try to catch as many of the mistakes as I can but even upon re-reads my mind still misses a few, thanks! Well, yes, but the other thing you have to keep in mind is everyone experiences things differently. People can go through the exact same situation and have different lasting reactions. Besides that, Iolaus (the arc) has taken place over the span of a month and he has had time to start removing himself from that situation. There's some things you just can't help a reaction of, especially when they take place suddenly. This is how I'm choosing to write him. I do my best to keep everything to a certain degree of realism but, seeing as it is a story, there's always going to be things done that edge a little into fantasy. This is just one of those elements where it works better from a story-telling perspective, and keeps the narrative from being too repetitive by highlighting every single day and the slow progress over those days.

Krakengirl- I'm excited to share it. :)

A few notes: - The statistic of the mortality rate of murdered children was as accurate as I could find.

- I wasn't originally planning on having Peter have a grave, until I realized that a) according to death in absentia, he would've been presumed dead anyways considering he was injured during the wreck and most kidnapped children never survive long, and b) faking his death would be something Ross and HYDRA would've done so that the risk of being caught would be drastically reduced.

- I had always planned on having the Leeds be a family friend given the close nature of MCU Peter and Ned, and considering I went with death in absentia, I decided to include mention of the family here. The unfortunate thing was there's not a lot given on MCU Ned, so I made up his parents's names based on Jacob Batalon's own heritage.

- Considering that 'Carmen' and 'Omen' are no longer usable, and 'Coin' was never intended to be around forever, I decided this would be the perfect chapter to give their names of Sariah Last, Kaleah Kamale, and James Faulers. I'm uncertain if I will include James in future chapters, but I'll leave that up to you, the readers, to decide. :)

- I purposefully framed the chapter to feel like a somewhat open-ended conclusion; an end to one segment but with plenty of foundational blocks to build the rest of the series on. Iolaus, framing-wise, would technically be considered a 'prequel' of sorts to the rest of the series, as the rest of the series cannot exist without this arc but the story didn't necessarily have to start with this arc. However, starting with this does make it much easier to understand and swing into the future dynamics and story elements without having to backtrack drastically to explain the more heavy AU aspects of this series. :)

Next time on OWOW: A visit into the Big Apple, magic, and odd encounters.

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