Peter was practically buzzing with excitement (excitement, terror, who could tell the difference, right?) as he drummed his fingers against the cold concrete.
It was two-thirty in the morning and the streets of New York were practically abandoned. The ledge of the large convention center he was crouched on was just right; high enough to be out of sight but low enough he could keep an eye on the road at all times. The only struggle was staying still. Peter felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin from all the nerves. It was his first official stakeout and he couldn't afford to blow it, especially since he was dealing with such a big target.
"Karen," he whispered. "Any heat signatures matching our guy yet?" He'd been there all night, waiting for a car or taxi or helicopter (unlikely, but always a possibility) to pull up to the building, but with no luck. And since it was fencing on three in the morning, Peter was starting to doubt the info he got was any good.
"Not yet, Peter. Would you like me to run a city-wide scan for you?" The last time she did that, he swung into an eight-year-old's birthday party with metaphorical guns blazing. Ironically enough, it was superhero themed. He politely declined and directed his gaze back towards the street.
A few minutes later, a large black van pulled up in front of the building. "Finally," he murmured and retreated into the shadows of the ledge, just in case.
According to Aaron, who had "connections", Wilson Fisk would be making a special appearance tonight—his first in months. Peter needed the crime boss to pop up, giving him the chance to A) attempt to stop him, or B) gather evidence for the proper authorities in case Option A fell through.
"Alright, Karen, you ready?" he asked quietly. He cracked his knuckles as the van parked, the doors starting to slide open. "That was rhetorical by the way, you don't need to answer."
Peter sucked in a breath as dark figures started to climb out. It was frustratingly unclear how many got out of the vehicle from this angle, and the way they moved as a unit just made it worse. By the time he thought to ask Karen to run a scan, the group was already in the building.
"Dammit," he huffed. Peter launched himself at the wall, scrambling up the cool brick to the open window he spotted earlier in the night. The convention center had offices located in the top couple of floors, a fact Peter was so very grateful for as he darted through the empty rooms. He burst into the main hallway and spotted an air duct, barely waiting for Karen's confirmation that yes, it was a central duct, before ripping the grate off and climbing into the vents.
He started off in the general direction of the main conference room, the place where Fisk would supposedly show up, crawling as quickly as he could on his hands and knees. "Well, this is less than dignified," Peter sighed, and then immediately smashed his head into the top of the vent. "Okay- ow."
Peter reached a fork in the vents after another minute or two, both which happened to be leading in opposite directions. "Uh, Karen? Which way to the central conference room?"
It was silent for a moment, then she responded quietly, borderline dejected. "I'm sorry, Peter. It seems my sensors are being diverted. I can not supply you with any useful information at this time."
He stopped. "Seriously?"
"Yes."
"I-. Okay. Okay, we can get through this." He nodded his head, trying to convince himself more than the A.I. There were only two options; that meant it was a fifty-fifty on choosing right. Peter cursed and ducked left, hoping he got lucky and chose the right path. He really should've planned better.
He tried to go as fast as he could through the air space, at one point digging his toes into the metal beneath him, bunching his legs up, and pushing himself along. Peter glanced through the grates he would occasionally pass, but they all led into either more office spaces or hallways. "Come on, come on come on come on," he whispered to himself.
Minutes passed before he finally came upon one that led into a large, open room. Peter stopped, sagging in relief. "Oh, yes. Thank God," Peter said and picked his head up. "Not today, Parker luck. Shove it."
He wiggled forward enough so the top half of his chest was resting on the slated metal. Sticking his fingers to the grate, he pushed down hard with one hand, making sure he didn't drop it with the other. The screws gave out without much noise, and Peter plopped the grate on the opposite side of the now-open hole.
Peter stuck his head out first, scouting for vantage points, and when he zeroed in on the large rafters at the other end of the room, he scuttled across the ceiling. He tucked himself in the junction of the metal, sitting against one and grabbing on to the other for stability.
"Are your sensors back up, Karen?"
"No, Peter, not yet."
Peter nodded, already expecting the answer. He would honestly be a little disappointed by was anything else—after all, Kingpin was the "most feared of all New York."
Taking it into his own hands, he first scanned the room. Exposed rafters spanned half of the ceiling, and aside from the stage, the room was completely bare, no chairs or tables or booths anywhere to be found. There was a wall that separated the conference halls, but a large cathedral-style opening acted as a doorway between the two. Unfortunately, Peter was too high up to see any more than ten feet into the next room.
There was nothing that helped him visually determine whether or not he was in the right place, so he tried to use his ears. Peter listened in, closing his eyes and focusing on the sounds to see if Fisk was in the next room over. But the only thing he could pick up was light, padded, nearly silent footsteps. Peter stilled, slight panic coming over him as his spider sense pinged at the back of his neck. This most definitely did not sound like Fisk.
A few seconds passed before someone crossed into his view, slinking along the walls and stopping just before the arched doorway. Peter's shoulders tensed unwillingly, and he tightened his grip on the metal. "What the..." he muttered, caught completely off-guard. "Okay. This is new. This is a new development."
The figure's head snapped up, twisting towards where Peter was hidden in the rafters. Even though he knew he was practically invisible, he sank further into the shadows, oh shit repeating itself in his mind. With a closer look, he could see the horns protruding from the head of the new guy, and recognition flickered to life in Peter. Daredevil. He'd heard a lot about the fellow vigilante, most of it... not good.
"Well," he whispered as Daredevil turned away and continued walking, "it could be worse. It could be ol' Shocker."
"You are correct, Peter. It could be much worse. Would you like me to compile a full list of your adversaries?"
"No thanks, Karen. I'm okay."
Peter quickly followed the man into the connected room, lowering himself on a web until he was close enough to start reaching for the ledge. He swung back and forth until his fingertips just brushed the plaster, but that was all he needed for them to glue on.
In that moment, he became overly conscious about how weird he must look, crawling over the walls like this. He blamed Daredevil. But no matter how stupid he looked, it was effective and stealthy. At least Peter didn't have to run around on the ground where he was more likely to be busted.
He was back on the ceiling, scuttling less-than-gracefully towards the rafters. He scrabbled up the metal beams until he was back upright, and jumped from cross-section to cross-section until he was as close to the corner as he could get.
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter spotted Daredevil hurriedly ducking behind the pile of stacked chairs pushed against the far wall, surprisingly quiet. Peter's eyebrow popped up, slightly confused by the man's behavior.
At least, he was until he picked up the almost inaudible footsteps padding through the same room he just left.
Peter flattened himself against the rafters, his neck tingling painfully. His heart rate sped up unwillingly, adrenaline pumping through him. This was it; these people had to be the ones coming out of the van. This had to be Wilson, so he had to be ready.
Peter's muscles tensed as someone emerged from the dark doorway, and then surprise hit him like a sack of bricks.
The person was fairly large in stature, but nothing close to the large, hulking body of the guy he was hoping for. The man had a dark balaclava that led into the tight black shirt and looser pants, and a large sword strapped to his back. He picked a walkie-talkie out of his belt once he reached the center of the room, but Peter couldn't make out what he whispered into the radio. He watched with wide eyes as a stream of sleek figures followed. None were quite as large as who Peter now dubbed as Big Ninja. They were all dressed from head to toe in the black clothes, their outfits blurring into each other and into the background. Peter could make out an assortment of katanas and guns strapped to their backs, some miscellaneous knives strapped to their thighs and belts.
"Holy…" He trailed off in the middle of his sentence, the utter confusion causing his brain to short-circuit. He was told Fisk would be here, not a bunch of… of ninjas. "What the hell is this?"
"There is nothing in my database that matches the uniforms or weapons supplied to the suspects." Karen relayed automatically.
One of the ninjas broke out of the clump, joining Big Ninja at the front before the rest of the group stopped in front of them—he'd call him Big Ninja Two. Annoyingly enough, the group obscured the movements by Ninja One and Two, which seemed to be the way they were communicating based on the total lack of sound.
All of a sudden, the group broke apart, scattering throughout the room. Peter's heart jumped into his throat at the abruptness of it all, and his breath caught as he remembered the other, ground-level hero in the room.
He whipped around just in time to see Daredevil move. He tried to shift away from the chairs as subtly as he could, and Peter could only watch in horror as he whacked an elbow into the stack instead. The top chair toppled off of the stack, slamming into the floor with a bang.
Everyone in the room froze.
"Shit," Peter swore vehemently and quickly shot a web to the other end of the room. It served its purpose as a quick distraction, the ninjas under him swiveling around and giving him time to drop to the floor. Peter rolled over his shoulder, popping to his feet directly beside Daredevil before the ninjas spun and rushed at them. It seems the vigilante used the distraction to his advantage, too.
"Daredevil." Peter tried for nonchalant, failing spectacularly when his voice cracked as he caught a punch. He threw the fist aimed at his head to the side and used the momentum to his advantage, sliding under the ninja's legs before sweeping them out from under him. He quickly webbed the guy to the ground.
"Butt out of this, Spider-Man," he growled and jumped out of the way of Big Ninja's sword.
"A little late for that, don't you think?" Peter grunted, and ducked away from the two new ninjas coming up from behind. This time he took a solid kick to the stomach before managing to get a hold on one, giving him a solid push into the other. The pair stumbled across the floor, and Peter barely had enough time to plaster them against the wall before more attacked.
"Hey, you might wanna watch out, man!" He yelled and shot a web at the feet of the dude trying to attack Daredevil from the back. He yanked back and jumped on top of the ninja, punching him hard once, twice across the jaw and feeling him go limp.
"Nice meeting you, too," he said, patting the padded chest of the ninja underneath him as he caught his breath.
Peter's neck twinged, and he didn't even bother turning around before springing to his feet, aiming for the ceiling, and pulling himself up with his web. But he wasn't fast enough to completely dodge, and a bullet grazed his left calf. He grunted as he slammed into the ceiling, but didn't let the pain distract him for any more than a second. Peter used the ceiling as a springboard to immediately throw himself back at the attackers, using his whole body as a battering ram and not really caring how he knocked them down.
"Oh my God that was fucking awesome," he whispered to himself and had to force down the urge to laugh at the image of bowling pins in his head.
He hopped up from the fall just to duck again, narrowly avoiding a knife one of the ninjas pulled. He grabbed the man's wrist and tore the weapon out of his hand before tossing it over his shoulder. Peter kicked his knees, sending the guy tumbling to the floor. He webbed the ninja's limbs to the ground, just in time to see Big Ninja feint a right slash to come around and whack Daredevil on the back of his head with the butt of his sword. Daredevil went down hard.
"Daredevil!" Peter yelled and darted towards the man. He shoved through a mob of ninjas, swinging elbows into faces and knees into guts, dodging shots in the process.
He kneeled and planted his hands under Daredevil's pits. He pulled hard, jumping back up and fluidly pulling an arm over his shoulders. Peter groaned slightly, the weight not easy to carry, especially when he was pressing on the bruises spreading over his ribs. But he shot a web at the ceiling and swung through the doorway into the room he first came out in, holding tight to Daredevil's midsection. He ended up just far enough to get a head start on the new ninjas that were sprinting after them.
Peter ran as fast as he could with the unconscious vigilante leaning against him, ignoring the burning in his leg and tripping over the dragging feet as he rounded the corner into a forked hallway. He growled frustratedly as he was forced to a stop. "Karen?! A little help?"
"I'm sorry, Peter. Whatever is scrambling my sensors still seems to be activated."
He groaned. "You know, that was cute the first couple of times, but now it's just annoying."
So he was running blind. Awesome.
Peter bolted to the right, taking his chances. He readjusted the limp body that was slowly slipping, wrapping an arm around his waist and jerking him back up. His mind raced, debating the pros and cons of lugging Daredevil around to his back and carrying him like that.
Suddenly red light from an emergency exit sign caught his peripheral and Peter skidded to a halt. He'd barely had time to stop before his ribs took the brunt of Daredevil's weight, leaving him gasping and winded. But the yells from down the hall were getting closer, so he quickly shook his head and desperately flung the unconscious man to his back. Peter charged towards the door, stumbling slightly under the weight before righting himself.
"Okay, come on, man. Wake up wake up wake up," he muttered repeatedly as the exit got closer and closer, heart pounding in his chest.
Peter yelped as he burst through the metal door and barreled off the landing of the stairs outside, struggling to keep his grip on Daredevil. He screamed as he fell, "Don't wake up!", barely whipping a hand out in time to shoot a web to keep the pair from smashing into the concrete of the alley below.
The plummet jolted Daredevil awake— which was an issue because as soon as he came to he immediately punched Peter across the face. The force popped Peter's jaw, and the pain was enough to make him lose grip on the web. Before he knew it, they were both falling. Peter flailed, trying to shoot a web and save himself.
He was too slow. His breath left him in a sharp whine as he hit the ground hard. White clouded his vision, ears ringing and entire body stinging with the impact. Peter could only lay on the gravel, stunned, until his lungs finally started working again and he gasped deeply.
He groaned, faintly nauseous, and desperately tried to push himself up. His hands slipped twice before he sat up, curled over and wheezing. Peter hissed when the loose rocks stuck to the graze on his leg but struggled to his feet. swaying slightly as he looked around.
At least they landed on a rooftop. The damage would've been way worse if they hit the street.
He shook his head to clear the remaining white spots, only to lock eyes with Daredevil directly after. The pair froze, just watching each other before Daredevil suddenly turned and ran. Peter started as the other man jumped down by the fire escape, but he was just a bit too disoriented to follow.
Peter threw his arms up. "You're welcome!" he yelled after him. "Jesus. Save a dude's life and you don't even get a thank you. This is the world we live in," he grumbled to himself and shot a web at the top of one of the buildings before swinging off the rooftop.
He made his way home as quickly as he could, not really sure if he was going the right way due to how his head was spinning and his body aching. Luckily enough, he recognized the neighborhood he was in, and it wasn't too far from the apartment.
It was a struggle to keep his eyes open after the adrenaline crash, but a couple minutes later he was sticking his hands to his window pane and sliding it up as quietly as he could. May would kill him if she found out he was out this late.
Peter tripped into his room, foot snagging on the window sill, before switching his lamp light on and shutting the window. He smacked the spider emblem on his chest, walking towards his bed as the suit deflated around him. He quickly shucked it off his arms and kicked it away from his legs as he stumbled to the small stock of gauze he kept under his desk. Wrapping it loosely around his leg, he gently placed a piece of tape to keep it on the wound.
Peter couldn't even be bothered to put on any other clothes before crashing on his bed. He didn't even wait a full minute before he was dead asleep.
His alarm went off far too soon. Peter groaned, rolling over and smacking his phone until the annoying sound stopped. He glanced at the time and sighed heavily, wiping his eyes. Just five more-
Shit. Peter sat up violently, the time finally registering. Shit. He'd overslept.
Peter stumbled through his morning in a frenzied daze, barely remembering to wash the shampoo out of his hair before he turned the water off in the shower. Peter pulled on his clothes as fast as humanly possible before practically falling out of the bathroom. He skidded into the kitchen, nearly colliding with May on his way to the bagels.
"Whoa there, Pete," she laughed. "Late night last night?"
He nodded guiltily, an apology blurting from him as he smothered two of the three bagels in cream cheese.
May swatted him on his arm, giving him a disapproving look that screamed curfew! It melted away after a moment, and she said, "Well, you better get going, honey. You're gonna be late if you don't leave soon."
He nodded again and stuffed one of the bagels in his mouth whole. Peter swiped his backpack off the counter with his bagel-free hand and quickly wrapped an arm around May for a quick hug, getting a light kiss on the forehead before jumping towards the door.
"Have a good day, sweetheart. And Peter?" He froze, one hand on the doorknob and the other holding the precariously stacked bagels. "Your shirt's on backwards."
Peter blinked before dropping everything on the floor and quickly switching his shirt around. "Thanks, May," he said around the food in his mouth. He flashed a wide, goofy smile to May as he picked his stuff up and gave a double thumbs-up before bolting out the front door.
Peter ditched the subway this time, choosing to sprint to school instead. It was faster, and he was already behind schedule as it is. He scarfed down the rest of his breakfast on the way.
He barely made it to first period before the late bell, sliding through the door with a pointed look from the teacher.
Luckily they were wrapping up the unit they'd been stuck on for a while, so it didn't really matter that MJ was apparently absent today. Too bad. She was the only source of entertainment he ever got in his first period since Ned wasn't in that class. Peter took the chance to sleep through the class and didn't even bother to hide it, either. He was exhausted, and there was no life where differential calculus wouldn't put him to sleep, even on a good day.
The day leading up to the end of fourth period was a total blur. He just napped through most of those blocks, scribbling down what notes he could in between the short bursts of sleep. The lunch bell finally rang, and Peter could barely read his writing when he was putting his notebooks back in his backpack. He couldn't bring himself to care—Ned would let him copy his later.
He rubbed at his eyes as he went through the hallway solely on muscle memory. It was pizza day, the busiest day in the lunchrooms, so there was no purpose in rushing to the line just to sit in it for ten minutes. Peter nearly crashed into a girl carrying a poster board in the hall, and he blamed that on exhaustion.
Peter's nose wrinkled as he walked into the cafeteria. The smell was horrendous, and he wanted nothing more than to stuff car fresheners up his nostrils whenever he entered and call it good.
Fortunately, the lines weren't too long, and he managed to swipe a pre-wrapped sandwich off the cart. He dropped it on his tray and picked up a bottle of water before paying at the register.
Peter plopped down at their usual table, hitting his tray against the table just a bit too hard. He snatched his water bottle out of the air before it fell, quickly glancing around after to check if anyone saw as Ned sat down across from him.
"So how'd the bug inspection go last night?" Ned asked excitedly.
Peter frowned. "Dude."
"What? I figured it's better than just saying Spider-Man out loud."
He grinned at that and started unwrapping his sandwich as he talked. "It was pretty crazy, actually. So you know how I'm looking into the whole Wilson Fisk thing?" He took a bite as Ned nodded, and continued after swallowing. "I got some intel Friday after school, so I decided I'd check it out, right? Well, eventually this big car pulled up in front of the building I was staking out and this whole thing," he waved a hand in the air, "happened-. Anyways, I got further in, totally expecting to see Kingpin, the Big Bad, but no."
Peter paused for the full dramatic effect. "It was a bunch of ninjas."
Ned's face went from confused to surprised to excited and back again before he stifled a laugh. "Ninjas?" He was incredulous.
"Yeah. And Daredevil."
"Daredevil?"
"Dude, it was crazy. He accidentally knocked a chair over so all the ninjas started attacking us—they're really good fighters, by the way, some of the best I've ever seen—and we fought them together. But then he got hit on the head so I had to drag him out before the two of us got overrun." Peter made a face.
"You saved Daredevil's life? Peter, that's insane. He's practically in the big leagues," Ned whisper-yelled.
His excitement was contagious, and Peter found himself smiling. "Well, 'saved his life' is kind of a stretch. But I was pretty surprised to see him there at all, really."
"Why?"
"I'm not really sure. Guess I just thought he'd have other, more important things to do."
"What if that was the 'other, more important thing,' though?"
Peter looked up sharply. "What?"
Ned leaned forward, lunch forgotten and using his hands as he talked.
"What if, Kingpin was never going to be there to begin with? Or, he and these new guys are collaborating to, like, take over New York or something? Or, the ninjas are actually some sort of cult that kidnapped Kingpin and are using him to spread their influence?"
He paused.
"Okay, that last one was kind of a stretch. But think about it, Peter! Doesn't it make sense? Daredevil was obviously there for a reason, and I don't think it was a coincidence you both happened to be at the same building on the same night at the same time as each other. Something's up," he finished and leaned back into his chair.
"So you think I somehow came across the 'secret of the century' or something while trying to gather evidence on a mob boss?" Peter questioned flatly.
Ned raised his hands in surrender. "Dude, just throwing it out there."
"I mean, it's not like crazier things haven't happened," Peter admitted. "I just don't know, man. Even Karen didn't know who they were. It's gotta be super underground or something if there wasn't anything in her database about it," he said, shaking his head.
"Why don't you just ask Mr. Stark? I'm sure he has to have some idea." Ned took a bite out of his apple, thankfully missing the way Peter stiffened at the suggestion.
"No, he's... busy, man. You know how it is." Peter stood up, shrugging his backpack on and tossing his trash in the bin. "I'm going to head to the library to get a start on the paper for Mr. Wright's class. Do you want to come?"
"Right behind you."
Peter waited patiently for Ned to pack up before walking down the hall together, already talking about Gatsby and the shallowness of the American Dream.
Wade strolled into the granny-style deli whistling with his hands tucked in the front pockets of his jeans. It was a nice day, no need to sweat it out in leather and spandex. He took a seat at a table close to the door and waited, scanning over the menu twice before leaning back into his chair.
It wasn't long before an uptight-looking man in a business suit sat across from him, propping a leather monogrammed briefcase up on the wall beside him. He briskly opened it, taking out a small pile of papers and giving Wade time to inspect his black-rimmed glasses, impeccably managed hair, and wrinkle-lined mouth. Oh, yeah, he knew this type. He hated this type.
The dude smoothed the papers onto the table before looking at Wade for the first time. If he was surprised at all by his appearance, he didn't show it. Then again, the frown seemed to be perpetual. The pair just looked at each other silently before Wade finally spoke.
"So, you buying?"
The guy glared balefully at him before waving a waitress over. Wade quickly rattled off his order, ignoring the way the woman stared at him.
The quiet persisted until Wade's sandwich was brought out, but he was perfectly content waiting stock still and silent. He lived to make these pretentious assholes squirm. Wade slowly bit into his lunch, keeping eye contact the entire time. The man in front of him shuddered faintly and he fought off the satisfied smirk.
"Let's just get to business, shall we?" The lackey said with a pinched expression and clipped words.
Wade spread his hands wide, giving the illusion of compliance at his words.
"Your target is an interesting case, to say the least. He managed to incapacitate more than half a squadron of the most finely trained stealth operatives to hit New York. There's a slight possibility it was luck, but we can't afford any... distractions. We need him eliminated. You'll get your money when you bring us proof of death."
"Okay, then-" Wade paused, peering down at the embroidery on the leather case, "-Wesley. Let's get to it. Show me what Big Man's got."
"Here's the amount you would be paid." Said man slid a small sheet of paper across the table. Wade took one look at the price and his eyebrows shot into his hairline. "And here," He dropped a thin folder, which he assumed was the target's profile, beside Wade's sandwich. "is your target."
He wiped his mouth with a napkin and let it fall to the side before brushing his hands off on his thighs. Wade picked the light folder up and flicked it open.
There was one word typed in bold letters across the top.
Spider-Man.