Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, Peter can do whatever a spider can do

Have you guys been reading the reviews critics and such have been posting about Civil War? Omg, they're all sooo good! Plus, nearly all of them mention how AMAZING Tom Holland is as Peter/Spider-Man. My poor heart can't take it. THREE MORE WEEKS PEOPLE THREE MORE WEEKS!

This chapter took so long btw because I literally wrote the whole thing, then realized I hated it, and then re-wote the whole thing completely different all over again. Kill me. This version is so much better though in my opinion, so hopefully it's worth it :)

Chapter 20

Peter didn't remember Gwen being in his bed when he'd crawled into it and conked out last night. And yet, the next morning, when he was stirred from his second consecutive night of dreamless sleep, there she was: curled against his body like a kitten with her arms wrapped delicately around his torso. Upon discovering her, Peter sat up in surprise, though slow enough as not to wake her. She was out cold, sighing softly as steady breaths slipped from her lips, and a small smile spread across his face.

Aw, she's so cute, he thought to himself, laying his hand along the small of her back. It rose and fell against his fingertips, and radiated with gentle, tender warmth. I wonder how long she's been here, waiting for me.

He laid beside her for awhile, simply admiring her angelic beauty. Her presence alone always managed to soothe his troubled soul, and in the most trying of times, her lightheartedness always brought a smile to his face. And in that moment, while soaking in her fragile perfection, Peter was reminded of why he loved her so much. She was the one spot of consistency in his totally crazy life, the single root of faith keeping his hope in humanity alive. Nothing meant more to him than keeping her safe. She gave him sense a purpose that even he could never fully understand, and through every daunting feat—knowing amidst all the superhero insanity that she was back at home, anxiously awaiting his return—he was saturated with all the reason in the world to keep fighting the good fight, and to keep surviving so he could see her again.

Peter's fingers dragged delicately up her spine until reaching her neck, which was blanketed in a waterfall of curly blonde hair. He lifted his hand and brushed her bangs away from her face, adoring the light freckles speckling her forehead and nose. I wish I were as strong as you, Gwen, he thought as he ran his thumb along the contours of her cheek. A melancholy ache flickered in his heart. I wish I could always be there for you, as you are for me.

At his touch, she stirred suddenly, arching her back and releasing a moan. As her muscles tensed, Peter felt her fingers coil tighter around his midsection, which was bare due to the absence of the symbiote. Her nails digging directly into his skin tickled horribly, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to leapt from the bed. He couldn't contain the startled laugh that reflexively jumped from his throat, however, and Gwen's eyes slowly fluttered open at the sound of his voice.

"Hmm?" she murmured, lifting her head and blinking sluggishly. Her bleary vision took a minute to focus on the familiar face gazing down at her. "Oh, Peter. You're still here?"

"H-hey, Gwen," he giggled sheepishly, prying her fingers from his belly and interlacing them with his own. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to wake you up. You've got a serious grip there."

Gwen smiled and sat up beside him, laying her head on his shoulder. "I figured you'd be gone by the time I woke up. I don't know when you decided to become such an early riser, but it's a nasty habit I insist you start breaking."

He shrugged skittishly. "It's not by choice, I swear. If it were up to me, I'd sleep until noon every day. Too bad the world keeps deciding to be imperiled before dawn breaks."

Her hands were soft against his hard, callused ones. "Well, I'm glad you stuck around this time. You're like a big, huggable furnace. I hope I didn't annoy you last night—you keep this room so cold, I had to cling on to you just to keep from freezing to death."

"Nah, you were fine. Oh, wait, except for your unbearable snoring problem. I mean, holy crap, Gwen. I think I woke up in a panic like six times, thinking I was sharing the bed with a ravenous beast."

She laughed authentically, which warmed Peter all the way to his toes. "You're lying, you jerk. I don't snore! Well, I mean…at least I don't think I do. Right? You are lying, aren't you?"

He chuckled, and tilted her chin up with his forefinger. "Nope. Complete truth. I'm ninety percent sure I'm dating a grizzly bear."

Gwen giggled brightly as Peter kissed her on the nose, and her cheeks grew rosy with color. "Well, I probably slept better last night than I have in months, knowing that you were here with me, safe. So that's partially your fault."

Peter's smile fell a little. He gazed into his girlfriend's hypnotizing eyes, which were like two brilliant emeralds blinking back at him, and pushed the hair hanging in her face behind her ear. "Yeah. I'm sorry for worrying you. A bunch of craziness ensued right after I left, and I got back way later than I was expecting."

She shrugged her shoulders dismissively, pulling at the sleeves of her sleep shirt. "Did you save your friend at least? Is she alright?"

He sighed, then nodded. "Yeah. It was a tricky feat, but we busted her out of Fisk's secret base and got her back to her brother. She was in pretty bad shape, though—those Hydra guys did horrible things to her to try and make her talk. But I think she'll be okay, now that she's away from all that." He tried for a moment to imagine if Gwen had been in the situation Wanda had been in, but immediately forced the thought from his mind. He couldn't bear the idea of her being tortured, especially if it was because he was Spider-Man.

Gwen curled her hands around his arm. "Well, then it was worth it. I'm glad she's safe." She blinked bashfully. "So, um, what's next on Spidey's to-do list? Nothing so pressing that he couldn't maybe spend the day…watching Disney movies in his pajamas with me and eating raw cookie dough until we both explode, I hope?"

Peter withered miserably at the pleading sparkle in her eye. "You have no idea how much I wish I could, Gwen. Honestly. But…it's just…the Sinister Six are still out there, and so is Fisk. I just know they're planning something terrible, and I've got to stop them before they hurt more people. I'm really sorry."

Despite her efforts, his girlfriend couldn't hide how disappointed she was. The vibrancy seemed to drain from her face, and her gaze fell to the sheets crumpled beneath her legs. He knew how much it would mean to Gwen, if he could dedicate just one day of his life to her, and only her; but he couldn't afford that luxury right now. It broke his heart to not be able to fulfill his girlfriend's small, innocuous wish, for he knew it was more to her than just a silly movie date. But he couldn't waste anymore time on leisures while his enemies were out there somewhere, organizing their attack. He had no idea how he could possibly explain it to her where she would fully understand him, and fully forgive him. But as she always did, after a long moment, Gwen closed her eyes, swallowed, then lifted her head back up, painting on a brave face as she smiled gently.

"Alright. You go do your hero thing. Just hurry up and kick these guys' asses so we can have our movie marathon day soon, okay?"

Peter exhaled spiritlessly, hating himself for being so neglectful of his remarkable girlfriend, but grateful that she was so strong and patient for him. He drew her close to his chest and hugged her tightly.

"Yeah, heh, I'll try to be quick. Have the DVDs and VHS tapes ready when I get back. I call dibs on first pick—how's Hercules sound?"

"Mmm. I'm in more of a Beaty and the Beast mood at the moment, but if you bring the popcorn and candy, then it's a deal."

She pressed against him as she spoke, eyes closed gently, and he couldn't help but grin like an idiot. What did I do to deserve the most perfect girl in the world? he wondered, studying her soft features delightedly. With a quiet laugh, her kissed the top of her head, and held her like she would fade away if her ever let go. "Deal."

At that moment, while the pair were occupied with each other's bewitching company, footsteps treaded carefully up the stairs. A hand pushed open the white-wood door, and a woman entered the room.

"Gwen, honey, are you awake? Your mother just called, and she's wondering when you plan to—" She froze upon stepping through the doorway, eyes widening. Her gaze fell upon the two teens inhabiting the small bed, clinging to each other like monkeys, one of which was dressed only in his boxers. The couple started at her entrance, releasing one another rapidly, and the elderly woman laid her hand on her chest.

"Oh my Lord," she breathed in shock. "What on Earth is…?"

"H-hey! Aunt May!" Peter exclaimed messily. "S-sorry! For, y'know, not seeing you until now. I got back super late last night, and I didn't want to wake you."

"Hello, May," Gwen responded, blushing as she giggled into her hand. Aunt May's mouth was hanging wide open.

"P-Peter, dear," she finally stammered after a long, uncomfortable pause. "Yes…yes, it's quite alright. I am very happy to see you. But, um, darling, do you…? And Gwen…? Should I just…stop by later, or…?"

Gwen was practically falling to pieces with laughter, and when it suddenly dawned on Peter what his aunt was insinuating, he turned a horrible shade of red. "Ah! N-no, Aunt May! No, no, no, no, no. We weren't—we haven't—this is not what it looks like!" He turned to Gwen in hopes she would reinforce his claim, but she was too busy giggling her head off to help. Aunt May forced a terribly unconvincing smile on her face.

"Oh. Well, um…it's—it's fine, Peter. Really. I understand. You two are young, and…hormonal. It happens. Ben and I, ha, if you can believe it—we were young too, once, and even we had ourselves plenty of—"

"Oh stop, Aunt May!" Peter cried hysterically, hopping off the bed and waving his arms around. "That is not what's happening here! We were just—I promise we were only—"

"Please, darling. You don't have to explain yourselves to me. Gwen, dear, just be sure to contact your mother soon. I'll just…I'll be downstairs. Making waffles. If you need anything." Then, fabricating a grin, May slowly backed out of the room, shutting the door behind herself with tedious care. She was clearly trying not to let on how truly disturbed she was, but as his aunt began walking down the stairs, Peter could hear her whispering under her breath. "Good Lord, have mercy," she moaned, still clutching her chest. "I think I need to lie down…"

Peter slumped back on the bed, burning with embarrassment. "Oh my gosh. Does she seriously think we were…?"

Gwen shook her head helplessly. "Oh, poor Aunt May. I doubt we'll be hearing the end of that anytime soon."

Peter scratched the back of his neck, chuckling nervously, and Gwen rose with a stretch of her slender body. "Anyways, I think I'll head home now. My mom's probably fostering a similar idea in her head with me staying overnight here so often, and I'm due at Oscorp in an hour." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and picked up her shoes, then walked across the small room to the door.

"Oh. Okay. S-sorry, about all that." He shrugged. "See you soon, then?"

Gwen Stacy smiled and threw a peace sign over her shoulder. "Later, sheriff. No dying on me, you hear?"

He smiled back, nodding. "You got it, partner."

The door clattered behind her softly. As she stole down the staircase, Peter murmured, "Oh yeah—and I, uh, love you. Just reiterating." It must've been too quiet, though, for he didn't hear her reply. He listened to her all the way until she was out the front door, her barefoot steps patting swiftly across the paved walkway, until she was out of range. Then he sighed, rubbed at his colored face, and puffed out his cheeks exasperatedly. Well. Wasn't that a fun way to kick off the day.

Recovering, Peter crawled to the foot of the bed and planted both feet on the floor underneath. Immediately, from behind the legs of the bed frame, the black symbiote shot out and latched on to his ankles. But he was not startled this time—quite the contrary, surprisingly so. Peter stood as the dark creature enveloped his body, and was delighted by its reunion with his skin. It was stimulating, invigorating, as always. As it spread over his fingertips, he realized how incomplete he now seemed without it; absent of the symbiote's presence in his spirit, flesh, and mind, Peter no longer felt whole. It was like strange, mysterious piece of himself he hadn't known was missing until now—an odd, ubiquitous entity he never knew he needed so vitally.

Once fully adorned in the black suit, Peter considered running downstairs and grabbing a few dozen waffles to satisfy his seemingly unquenchable hunger, but was in no mood to face his aunt again after their last embarrassing exchange. The growling in his stomach was unbearable, however, and he realized he felt almost faint. He couldn't remember a time when his abnormally high metabolism had this great an effect on him, especially two days in a row now. But, shrugging the thoughts aside, Peter inhaled the two bags of Doritos and half-eaten chocolate bar sitting on his desk, barely making a dent in his endless appetite, and snatched a package of gummy worms from his drawer for the road. It was time to get to work.

If the Sinister Six were trying to be discreet, they weren't doing a very good job at it. When Spider-Man finally arrived at the warehouse Tony had specified, the butchered depository stuck out like a sore thumb in the line of buildings along the street, and police tape surrounded the scene. Luckily, the cops seemed to have cleared out a while ago, and with a quick leap off the neighboring complex, Spider-Man dropped silently through the roof.

Inside, the place was a disaster. Besides some of the tables being flipped right-side up, it appeared as though nothing had been done to clean the devastating mess. Peter landed on the floor in a low crouch, scanning the wide space discernibly, before slowly rising to his feet. The room was dark besides the single spotlight spilling down through the roof, and had a heavy, humid atmosphere.

As Peter began to walk through the warehouse, he took note of the shattered crates, sliced boxes, and broken cabinets, as well as the absence of tools on the tool bar in the far corner. The place had been stripped of every last resource, which was not a good sign at all. What the hell were they planning? With Spider-Man supposedly dead, what could the Sinister Six's next big feat be? Building a robot army? Creating another base of operations for Hydra, perhaps? Or just preparing for a second terrorist attack on the city? Sighing, Peter fished the last of the gummy worms from the packet, dropped them into his mouth, then crumpled up the bag and tossed it into a trash can on the other side of the room. He swallowed, then frowned, willing the black slime to conceal his lips once again. He froze suddenly when his foot bumped an empty oil can, sending it skidding along the floor.

Whoops, he thought, then followed the can's path. It led to a thick pool of black, which was stirred with lazy ripples. He recognized it from the photographs. It took his eyes one quick search before locating the familiar pattern beside it—a large, ominous footprint, preserved in an oily smear across the concrete. He tried to find which direction the tracks led, but they faded quickly and seemed to taper off entirely near the center of the warehouse. Peter Parker wasn't a particularly skilled detective to begin with, and without a clear trail to follow, he doubted he'd be able to track him down on sheer instinct. Not to mention not one of his spider tracers across the city had been activated since the first Sinister Six attack. Dammit, Doc Oc, Spider-Man cursed in his head, what the hell are you doing with all this crap?

Then, suddenly, spidey sense. It buzzed sharply at the base of his skull, just as the sound of a gun being cocked echoed throughout the warehouse.

"F-freeze!"

Peter turned to see a person standing on the other side of the room. In their hand sat a rusty rifle, which was shaking violently with the barrel pointed at Spider-Man's thin frame. It was an old man: face etched with wrinkles, wispy white hair sprouting sparsely around his scalp, knobby knees shivering beneath the weight of his frail body. His eyes seemed to bug out of his head, and his cracked lips were pursed together tautly. Peter carefully raised his hands above his head.

"Uh, hi there. Is this your shop?"

"D-don't move! How did you get in here? What do you want from me? I d-don't have anything left to give!"

"No sir, I'm—I'm not here to steal anything from you. And, um, through the roof." He pointed upwards with his index finger. The old man's brow was narrowed deeply, and his movements were sharp and jerky as he inched forwards.

"Then w-why'd you come, huh? Why're you trespassing on my property and dressing like a spook?"

Peter bit back a laugh. "Sorry for barging in, I…wasn't sure if anyone was home. I'm a friend of Tony Stark's, you see, and he said I could come here to investigate a, um…a crime hit, that a gang I'm trying to find might be responsible for. Didn't Tony phone in, saying Spider-Man might swing by today to ask a few questions?"

His vicious scowl unwound slightly, though the gun remained trained on Peter's lean frame. Wide, goggly eyes looked him up and down before the man spoke again.

"He did, yes. But you don't look nothing like the Spider-Man I know. Where's your bright and flashy costume? That black garb makes you look like one of the bad ones."

"I thought maybe people would start taking me more seriously if I switched up my wardrobe to a more…professional color scheme?" He giggled. "Well, as seriously as a guy who flips around the city in a unitard can be taken."

He paused for a moment, licking at his lips, still quivering a bit, as he mulled this over. Peter wondered why Tony had chosen such an odd cat to run his product through, what kind of history the two had together. He reminded him of Argus Filch. Then, to Peter's surprise, his scruffy eyebrows unfurled, and the rifle's piercing gaze slowly lowered to the floor. "Well, sonny, I liked your other one better." He sniffed, rubbed at his bulbous nose, then nodded towards him. "Tony sent you, did he?"

Sighing with quiet relief, Peter's hands fell to his sides. "Yeah. He told me about what happened here last night; how your warehouse was robbed by a rather discourteous visitor. I just wanted to see if I could drop by and get any leads on why they stole from you and where they went, so I can stop them from hurting anyone else."

No longer scared stiff, the old man studied him curiously through circular glasses. "He's told me quite a bit about you—Tony." He placed the gun on one of the tables without taking his eyes off him. "Last time he visited, he described the person behind that strange character we've all seen swinging down the streets: an ingenious young man, with a heart for doing things so far beyond what he's capable of."

An almost startling astonishment gripped Peter at the elder's words. All of his premeditated inquisitions seemed to trickle away in an instant. He opened his mouth, then closed it, narrowed his brow, then tilted his head to the side. "Tony…Tony Stark said that? About me?"

"That's correct, sonny. And if you're the boy he was referring to, I daresay; you must be something quite special to draw such admiration from a man like him." A faint smile pulled at his shriveled lips, and his bony fingers clenched and unfurled restlessly at his sides. Peter watched his hands distractedly, veiled in puzzled thought, before giving a small shake of his head.

"Well, that must've been a Tony Stark from a long while back. Nowadays, ol' tin man and the rest of the crew see Spidey as a liability, at best. His opinion of me has been…heh, drastically changed since you last talked to him."

"Oh no, kid. You've got it all wrong. I spoke with Tony on the matter just last week, while he was picking up one of his most recent orders. He talked to me about the solid head you've got on your shoulders, despite all the things you've been through, and your startlingly adamant commitment to protecting the people of this city." He chuckled. "Though, I must admit, he did mention how headstrong you were, and how you tend to focus so much of your efforts on helping others that you neglect yourself. He's very concerned over you, to the point that it's been troubling me. I don't think that's something you should take lightly, sonny."

Peter held his earnest gaze for a second, then let his eyes fall to the floor. He felt like he was being told a secret he wasn't supposed to hear, or rather maybe didn't want to hear, for fear of its inaccuracy. Did Tony really see him that way? After all the anger he had kindled in Peter, and the bitterness and insincerity that they both were guilty of, Stark still spoke kindly of him? He didn't know him to do that even when the two of them were actually getting along. The man was more two-face than Natasha Romanoff, though he couldn't decide whether it was meant for deception, or something else.

"Gee, that's, uh…weird." He scoffed with forced amusement. "You sure Tony hadn't hit the bubbly hard before stopping by?"

The old man laughed. "Trust me, boy. I've known Tony long enough to recognize when it's him versus the liquor talking. He was well in his right mind when he spoke with me about you. I assure you, he was being honest. He thinks very highly of you, and is nothing short of astounded by your naive but admirable zeal for saving people's lives."

A small ache rose into his throat, pricking him with a feeling of shame. All he ever did was talk badly of the iron avenger behind his back; not once in recent history had he mentioned anything remotely decent about him. True, there was some very real substance behind Peter's spite, but there was just the same amount for Tony to use against him. And yet, he hadn't, which made Peter feel far worse in comparison. Despite all of his glaring faults, and all of his attempts to make it seem untrue, Tony Stark was, strangely so, a good man. Sometimes it just took a little extra digging to see that.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Peter swallowed painfully. "Heh. You're, uh, making me blush, really. I should get that on tape and see if Tony would actually confess to offering someone a genuine compliment."

"Ha, you should. Those aren't yielded easily from that man's lips. You must be something else, despite what all the papers are saying." Shaking with age, the man stooped down, plucked a bolt from the floor, then rolled it slowly in the palm of his gnarled hand. "You think you can catch the person who did this to my shop?"

Reeling back from the conversation's unexpected detour, Peter nodded quickly. "Yes sir, I believe I can. I've fought these crazies before. But I have no idea what they're working towards right now, so anything you can offer me would certainly be helpful."

"Well, as you can tell, they pretty much took everything of value from here." He dropped the bolt into his pocket and sighed. "A shame, really, that I was hit yesterday. One of Tony's largest and most expensive orders had just arrived that evening. He must be working on something very new and exciting—the man's never placed an order for a half-million dollars worth of iron alloy crystal before—though this little hiccup must certainly be setting him back. But when I asked him what it was all about, he wouldn't give me a straight answer. 'A fun little project' was the only thing he said in response, though I think I recall him mentioning it had something to do with you." His owl eyes lifted to him quizzically. "Has he told you anything about that?"

Peter shrugged and shook his head. "No, not at all. I've seen Tony's workshop recently, and it didn't look like there was much going on down there. He experiments with lots of weird stuff on those suits of his behind our backs, though, so you never know what evil science he might be concocting. Maybe he's trying to come up with a stealth suit of some kind so he can pull pranks on me more elaborate than super gluing the toilet seat or slapping whipped cream in my face."

The old man chortled jubilantly. "Well, he already re-placed the order, so he must be in pretty big a hurry to get whatever it is done. I've installed security cameras this time, so if the rotten hooligans who did this show their faces again, I'll be ready."

"Do you have any idea where they may have gone after they did this? Why they took all this stuff, what their plans are for it?"

A deep crease formed along his already wrinkled forehead as he thought, staring at his fingers as they drummed against the tabletop. "Not really. Thugs could do anything with the haul they stole. Sell it overseas for some major cash, bring it to a damn pawn shop. That's what I told the cops." His face grew grim. "But now that you're here, I have in mind they have other plans for it. It's possible they could create some very versatile artillery with those materials and equipment, so long as they have a person smart enough to make it. Which is why, I assume, you're so keen to finding them?"

"Yes. They've already attacked the city once, and I think their intent is to strike again, with even more firepower at their disposal. But that's just a vague idea; they could be up to something else entirely that I don't see coming, which is tremendously unnerving to say the least." Spider-Man exhaled exasperatedly. "Are you sure there's nothing else you could tell me that might help me track them down? I'm desperate to nip this thing in the bud before hell breaks loose across New York all over again."

The elderly man's harsh features softened a little. "I…I'm afraid not, young man. You can see the weird patterns on the floor there, the hole in the roof, and the cuts on the walls. You probably understand what's going on here far better than this old geezer ever could. All I know is that I was robbed, and despite all the destruction inside here, the perpetrator is very good at covering his tracks. Forensics couldn't find a single print in this place besides my own, or any leads to anywhere on the outside." He hunched his shoulders. "You can look all around here if you like, maybe spot something the police didn't. Go ask all my neighbors, who swore they didn't see or hear anything. But other than that, I haven't got much else to offer. Sorry, kid."

A heavy exhaustion seemed to blanket him upon hearing this. Exhaustion, anxiety, and a burning frustration. Not at the old man's lack of information, but at the absence of information altogether pertaining to the Sinister Six. After a moment, Peter released a disappointed sigh. "Oh. Okay. That's fine. I'll, uh…I'll figure it out." He offered him a quick little salute. "Well, thanks anyway for all your help, sir. I'll make sure the assholes who took your stuff pay."

"Heh, I'm counting on it. I know it might not mean much, coming from some random old buzzard you just met, who might have been close to shooting your head off five minutes ago, but I…I really believe in you, sonny. You seem like one hell of a kid underneath that crazy suit."

Peter grinned bashfully. "I try."

The man shuffled out slowly without another word, leaving Spider-Man alone in the wide room. Without much else to go by, he began combing through every inch of the damaged warehouse, leaving no corner unchecked, no floorboard unexamined. He scored the quiet expanse for over an hour, even skittering over the ceiling as his impatience swelled.

His tedious search eventually brought him outside. He did everything the old man had suggested—and more. There were no signs of Doc Oc beyond the gaping roof that he could find. Nothing for him to even begin to follow. He left the scene with a leap and a tap on his palm, haughty with a sense of wasteful powerlessness.

Just as he landed against the stainless windows of a towering skyscraper, Peter heard his phone chime loudly. Scoffing crossly, he retrieved it from the symbiote's sticky biomass, read the caller I.D., and tapped the screen with his thumb.

"Congratulations. You have reached the landline of your friendly neighborhood failure. Currently flipping aimlessly around the city with no leads or ideas whatsoever. Breathtaking disappointment speaking."

Uh…Peter? the voice of Steve Rogers murmured dubiously through the speaker. Is that you?

"Yes. Was that not obvious?"

I was just checking in to hear any developments from your side of things, but am I right to assume it's not going so well?

"Yes. Three hours with Tony's little friend got me nowhere. I'm basically back to square one again. Which I never really left in the first place." He rubbed at his temples irritably. "How goes your guys' plans and stuff?"

Well, better than that, I suppose. Barton paid the pier you described an inconspicuous visit, but the whole thing was blocked off and surrounded by a bunch of police officers and S.W.A.T. trucks. Exact same thing with Natasha at the other entrance inside the sewage runoff: completely boarded up, policemen, cars, the whole shebang. She said there were even cement trucks and construction workers on the scene, seemingly preparing to seal off the sewage entrance entirely. And the strangest thing about it all was that none of us could dig up a single mention of any issues or projects supposed to be going on in those areas right now in any newspapers or web articles. None of it is being reported.

Peter was practically bursting with excitement. "Holy crap. That's—that's huge! It's Fisk, it's all Fisk, scrambling to cover his ass. Those policemen and workers—hell, maybe even the media—have got to be on his payroll! Wow. After my little intrusion, I guess he's not taking any more chances."

Whether or not that's the case, there's no doubt something weird is going on, and someone's trying to keep it a secret. I hope you're right about this place being an evil underground Hydra base, because the team has decided to make our move in the next two days.

"Really? That's good. Those prisoners need to get out of there as soon as possible. Plus, if we strike Hydra before their plan is in motion, maybe it will force the Sinister Six to come out of hiding and play their hand prematurely, and we can take down their whole damn operation in one classy sweep."

Easier said than done, kid, although we are being offered some extra help. A fella who's friendly with the owner of Pym Tech—the facility in California that was attacked by Hydra last week—offered to lend a hand in our rescue mission. None of us are exactly sure what the man's skill set is, which is why Banner is flying out there tomorrow to meet with Hank, but he claims to be very good at breaking into places, and is equally pissed by all the crap Hydra's been up to lately. We figured the more help we can get, the better, although I'm not letting this guy even step foot in the tower without the full one-over by me.

Peter shrugged. "Whatever. Do what you gotta do. I'll just be hippity-hopping around Manhattan, see if I can get any leads on where these weirdos might be holed up."

Oh, hey, speaking of weird, I meant to ask you yesterday. There was a switch in Steve's tone. What the hell is up with your costume, Peter? The new one you were wearing—the black one. You ran off without explaining it at all. Where did you get that thing?

Spider-Man throat became dry. "Oh. The black one? Right, uh…" He swallowed rigidly, clambering for a believable explanation. "It's just a, um…a new suit, that I made. By myself. So that I, y'know, blend in the dark better. To be more sneaky and stuff. After all, natural selection favors those most equipped to survive, even in concrete jungles. I guess my, um, my biology teacher's last lectures about camouflage really got to me, so I figured I might try, y'know, implementing that sorta thing into my—"

Your street clothes turned into that costume, he interrupted him bluntly. Don't try denying it. I was watching. I saw it happen. Tony Stark even said he's never seen or heard of anything like that. You're telling me you somehow created this revolutionary new technology all by yourself without any of us knowing? Because I'm not biting.

Peter's skin was growing hot, for he was clueless as to what he could say that would get Steve off his case. He couldn't tell him the truth; he couldn't, because there was no way the super-soldier could ever understand. No one could. He took the phone away from his face, stammering under his breath. He focused suddenly on the feeling of the dark symbiote gliding against his flesh. The movement was soothing, calming, and seemed to sap away his jittery anxiety. He stared down at his palm, curled his hand into a fist, then exhaled slowly.

"It's a prototype I'm working on. A versatile costume than can adapt to my needs. But like I said before, it's nothing special, and nothing for any of you guys to get all worked up over. You seriously need to stop digging your noses in my business all the time and worry about the people who are in real danger here."

Peter, I'm just trying to—

"Yeah, I know," he snapped. "Watch out for me, make sure I'm not going to get myself killed. Thanks, Cap, but I don't want to hear it. I appreciate your concern—really, I do. But this is my life, and you don't get to know what I'm doing 24/7. So stop acting like your obliged to all my personal information just by asking. Alright?"

Steve paused, silent, for a moment. It was a good ten seconds before his voice finally returned. Okay. Yeah, okay. You're right, Peter. I'm sorry. There was another pause, followed by a clamor. It's just…that costume, that you're wearing. It…in a way, it reminded me of… Then he stopped, and the sound of quiet footsteps resonated quietly from the receiver. Never mind. I think we've all been acting a little paranoid lately. I'll keep you updated on our plan, when we're going to head out, and let you know if anything changes.

Peter sighed assuredly, and fired a web onto the railing of a billboard. "Thanks, Cap. If I manage to find anything about these clowns before then, I'll fill you in." He was about to drop off the window and swing across the road, when he suddenly remembered something. "Oh, wait. One last question. You still there, Spangles?"

Yes. What is it?

Peter stared to the side. "Does, uh…does Tony Stark actually still…?" He narrowed his brow, then shook his head. "I mean, whatever. You didn't happen to notice if Tony was building anything weird in his shop recently, have you?"

Steve was quiet for a second, though Peter couldn't tell if it was out of thoughtfulness or hesitance. Not really, no. Why do you ask? was his reply. He sounded uncertain.

"I dunno. Just something his old buddy that got robbed by the Sinister Six mentioned. Bye Cap." Peter hung up before he could return the courtesy.

He hid the phone back inside the black suit, then leapt off the skyscraper, wind rushing past his body. Spider-Man spent the rest of the day scavenging for clues that were not to be found, in a city that seemed to be holding vigil. The calm before the storm.

Six men stood adorned in newly crafted garbs. Each looked themselves over, fiercely impressed.

"Damn, Octavius. These're awesome. How the hell did'ja make 'em so fast?"

The eight-limbed man crawled across the room in an almost serpentine manner, grinning. "They're not complete yet. I still need to test them for endurance, effectiveness, practicality, and reinforce the exteriors with a few more layers of iron alloy crystal. But my genius paired with these mechanical arms certainly helps speeds up the production process. If they fit and feel well enough, I shall work through the night, and have them all finished by the end of tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Toomes repeated, stretching the large wings out at his sides. "Why do you have to finish them so soon? What's the rush?"

Doctor Octopus eyed him sharply. "Preconceived expectations, Mr. Toomes, now equally substantiated by recently gathered intel. A bug I sent to the Avengers Tower, which picked up on a very interesting conversation exchanged between Steve Rogers and an unknown individual, obtained a very important scrap of information. The Avengers are planning to infiltrate Hydra's underground base in the next couple days."

"Whoa," Maxwell exclaimed. "How the hell did they find out about that? Isn't that place supposed to be, like, a major secret or something?"

"Apparently the facility was broken into by someone just a few days ago, who was able to escape with one of the Big Man's prisoners. I believe the Avengers are returning to finish that mission, and to fully unearth Hydra from the shadows." He held out his hand, and one of his tentacles placed a long, torpedo-looking object into his palm. "And when they do, while they are traipsing obliviously below the Hudson, distracted by their trivial heroic endeavors, we will blow up the entrance through which they came, and flood the entire facility with water. Through one clean strike, we will drown both of our enemies: the Avengers, and Hydra, all washed away in the damning wake of their own arrogance. With them gone, no one will be left for us to hide from, and nothing will be able to stand against our power."

All of their eyes grew wide at the doctor's words. Wide with a mixture of surprise, and excitement.

"Whoa. I never thought about taking down Hydra until now."

"Hydra betrayed us, and now it is time to make them pay. We'll show them what happens when you dare offend the unforgiving. We will not show mercy. The Sinister Six will eliminate all of them, along with those candy-colored counterparts."

"That is the most devious plan I've ever heard," Beck gawked, smiling broadly. "Mysterio fervently approves."

"They won't have a clue what hit 'em, until it's too late. Can yah imagine what we'll be able to do, once they're sleeping with the fishes?"

"Yes! We'll drown them—drown them all! The Big Man, Hydra, and all those stupid heroes! The world will be ours!"

"It all sounds quite perfect indeed," the Vulture mused, flexing his feet inside the talon-equipped shoes. "But if we're just going to drown them all, what's the point of the fancy new gear? Why even bother with it?"

"Because I play the long game, Toomes, and so should you. You never know if there will be some stragglers that we must take out after the waters have settled. And even if both Hydra and the Avengers are completely decimated in the first strike, whatever is left of S.H.I.E.L.D. will likely come after us, as well as the U.S. military. We'll need to be prepared to wipe out all opposition before the war is truly won, and my creations will make that possible. That is why they must be fully operational before we make our move."

The Vulture watched him measure the width of the Rhino's broad, meaty shoulders, struck with awe. Then he snorted out loud. "Wow. You've sure planned this out well, haven't you, doctor? I'm truly impressed. This is really going to happen. I guess that's why you're the boss around here."

"Yes, it is. And the whole world will be audience to it all. No one will ever look down on our kind ever again."

He ordered them to take off their outfits, and that they did, eager and obedient. As he dragged them back to his workspace, laid them across the table, secured his goggles over his eyes, his image of the future grew clearer and clearer. A rapidly approaching trophy, an inexhaustible feast. All hell was about to break loose across New York, and he was the gatekeeper about to turn the key. His patience was finally going to reward him. For the seemingly peaceful island that he now stood on, the quiet and undisturbed spell the city seemed to be cast under—all was just the calm before his storm.

I can't believe I have to wait until NEXT SUMMER to see Spider-Man: Homecoming. At least I'll have Civil War and Doctor Strange and GOTG2 to sustain me. And lol I thought the name was kind cheesy at first, but now I actually really like it. I read the Spidey comic titled homecoming, where he gets the black suit and stuff, which is awesome. It probably also refers to him being in HS and there will probably be a cute lil dance involved. Plus, it obviously alludes to the fact that Spidey's come home to the MCU where he belongs :3 EEEEEEEEE I just can't wait! Oh and btw something fun pops up in the next chapter. Well really two things. You'll see. Review maybe? :D