Peter Parker probably looks crazy right now.
Here he is, sprinting across the street right after his friend (the girl he likes) just told her that she is seeing someone. As in a guy. Like dating.
Now yes, it feels somewhat like a punch in the gut finding out. But he also saw a bunch of goons sneaking into an art museum. So it kinda has to wait. They even have guns, so yeah he left.
Unfortunately, that tends to happen a lot when you're the crime-fighting arachnids that swings around New York City. Peter wants to say something to MJ, really does, but he's currently dressed in blue and red tights as he slips into the museum.
So, despite the crushing news, Spider-Man sighs with dramatized disappointment as these amateurs try to yank a painting off the wall.
He stretches his neck, and arms, and even touches his toes before effortlessly shooting a web line right toward two of the thieves. It sticks to one of their matching black-based gear and by the time they are even aware, Peter yanks the guy right over to land a hard punch to the jaw. Of course, the other idiot is already pointing his gun right at Spider-Man, alerting his fellow art-stealing pals of the crime-stopping presence.
"Great," Peter mumbles. Then makes sure to doge each bullet shot off, leaning back before regaining both his posture and his hold on the first thug. He, as expected, tries to slither out of Spider-Man's hold. So, he tightens his grip, arm pressed against their neck, and holds his other hand out.
"You really gotta stop shooting me or Mr. Mohawk over here," He starts, gesturing towards the thief trying to pry his arms away with no use. The armed man doesn't seem to even care though, as he squints, grunts, and lifts his gun. Peter squeezes the thief, raising his hand. "He'll get it-"
But he fires his gun anyway and Peter jumps up with a twirl just because he can. He snatches the gun with a quick thwip of his webs and crushes it in his hand as he lands on his feet. Seeing as these guys most likely don't want to talk it out (they never do) or just give up, he pushes off the ground and sets the dude up into the air with a fist, jumping up to him and scoring some more satisfying hits.
Just as he gets done with the crook, the first one and the others are all running up to him with loaded guns in their hands.
Spider-Man hates guns. He huffs, letting a web line hit the upstairs railing behind the men, and swoops in to knock two over. Sort of like bowling. He hears all the shooting, dodges the bullets as he turns around, and reels in one of the dudes as they're starting to get up off the ground.
He kicks them square in the chest and ducks under them to get another hit as they fall.
More bullets fly his way. He succeeds in dodging them all. But it distracts him from the ridiculously dressed thug that manages to ram their elbow just past his side. The thug follows through with a rather harsh kick to his shins.
It nearly topples him over, the thug's thick platformed boots giving it an extra edge.
"Woah-" Peter fumbles for a second, whipping his head around to meet a criminal in bold black sunglasses and a dark jacket. He finds a sense of balance just as they head for a punch straight to his jaw.
He ducks, webs the previous guy up to the wall, and spins back to return the punch they couldn't land on him, effectively knocking them back to slump against a supportive metal pole that helps hold up a painting.
So that's what? Three guys down.
He probably could be doing better, pacing wise. But he really did just run off like a half crazy person to get here.
However, this is his job. His responsibility.
Not that his friends don't matter to him. No, no no. He cares about MJ and Harry. But he is also Spider-Man.
Who- oh fuck- is being shot at again. He shakes his head in self-disapproval. Never a good idea to get wrapped up in your thoughts during these fights.
He moves quickly, torso twisting as he reaches out his arm to steal their guns again. He is just a little late though, and a bullet grazes his other shoulder. He feels it zip past, feels it tear through his costume, and strikes a sharp stinging sensation all the way up his arm as it cuts skin.
Thankfully it's not a full-blown gunshot wound. But it makes him wince, coiling back for a moment and letting out a swear as pain shoots up to set a scowl on his face behind the mask.
Too close, Spidey.
Peter makes sure to shrug it off for now, makes sure to let the "I'll kill you, bug" roll off him as easy as water for now, and makes sure to dismiss any and all thoughts about his 'Peter life' for now.
So from there, it gets fairly more and more simple to avoid attacks and make his own. No matter how loud the sound of the gunshots may be, or how many thieves go at him at once, Spider-Man finishes up with a good amount of ease. He kicks the last dude in the side, flips him into the air, and slams em back to the ground.
He looks around and sighs, his work is indeed done here. He shrugs to himself, alone under the bright lights and smiles under his mask. "Eh, it might not be art, but I like it," He says out loud, placing his hands on his hips and letting his shoulders loosen up.
But then there's a light huffed out chuckle and Spider-Man freezes before glancing around with accusing eyes.
"Who's there?" He asks, but the question dies on his tongue as he raises his head and… Well, he does not know her.
There, on the railing above, she sits with her legs crossed, dressed completely in a black skin tight leather suit decorated with rich white fur coating wrapping around the back of her neck, her calves, and forearms. It's certainly something and he traces his eyes over again as he tries to think of who she may even be and what she's doing here.
The light reflecting on black leather is definitely not distractingly catching his eyes with its bright contrast.
She snaps him out of it anyway as she holds her hand out for her display. Then curls it to her chest.
"You've got moves," She says slowly then she pauses, looking down at him and tapping her chin once, letting her finger rest on her lip before she laughs. "For a dork in tights."
Then his brain clicks as he waves around the room full of unconscious men. "Are these yours?"
She scoffs, leaning back and holding onto the railing with both gloved hands as she uncrosses her legs, platinum blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she hands her head forward. "Please," She says sarcastically and he is not even given the time to process before she swings back and plants her feet on the ground behind her- then leaves.
'Puh-lease' rings in his head and he almost forgets to call out "Wait."
She's already well on her way out though. So he uses his webs to catch up, making way to where he finds her on the roof.
She does look over her shoulder, shadows and a black mask covering her expression as part of her hair settles, resting somewhat below her shoulders.
Then she twirls back and jumps to the top of a nearby building. The cold crisp air and empty rooftops don't even seem inviting anymore. Peter lets himself indulge in curiosity rather than head back to his apartment. Saving himself from another great while of swinging alone late at night and overthinking.
So he follows after her, jumping across rooftops and watching his shadow float for a moment, then he has to swerve around as she switches direction and leaps to another building.
He can feel the air through his mask, shoots out a web line to catch up and she drops to a lower building.
"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" She asks, voice carrying out in the night and he shakes his head even though she isn't looking.
"Nope, I'm completely free tonight," He responds, the edges of his lips rising into a smile as he jokes around and jumps across an alleyway that ends up being shorter in distance than he expected.
He looks up ahead and nearly runs into her as she stands there. He stumbles, purposefully tripping himself so he doesn't crash into her.
Now, with less tall buildings casting dark blankets of shadows and more open moonlight, Spider-Man can decently see the tip of her lips curl upwards before she quickly steps back and waves dismissively with a sour face.
"Back up, you're crowding me."
"You stopped suddenly," He retorts. She rolls her eyes and when Peter realizes he is watching he reminds himself of MJ and how, even after not even ten minutes of knowing this lady, they are so different. And of course again, this is some lady in a leather suit. That he just has to know the name of. For typical Spider-Man hero reasons obviously.
"You're the one following me," She says with a hand placed on her hip. And well, she does have a point. Literally. With the framing finger she's got pointed his way.
He huffs, but then she steps forward and within a blink of his eyes, her hands are on his shoulder lightly, almost hovering, but still touching. Through his costume of course, but he does feel her thumb swipe down, and he's too busy to really feel it as she grins.
"So no complaining for you." She chirps out the last bit all sing songy as she pats his shoulders and then flicks his forehead. Ow.
"Hey," He mumbles. In all honesty, it does not hurt. But still. She shrugs, a physically messaged "what?" like she has no clue or awareness of her own actions before she walks to the edge of the roof and stretches her arms behind her.
Peter looks away and Spider-Man takes a step closer.
"Your costume has a tear."
He frowns, confused, before he remembers oh yes, he does have a torn suit. It's the least of his worries though, it's small. The grazed bullet wound can also wait too, being Spider-Man means healing a bit quicker and higher pain tolerance. "Oh yeah, I know."
"Okay," She says, voice tilting higher at the end with some strange sense of contentment as she looks to the left and right. Then lifts her boot up and raises her arms above her head, wrists crossed. "See you around."
He calls out and waits for an embarrassing like, fourth time, but she dives off backwards and by the time he's asked for her name and reaches the edge, Peter can not see her anywhere.
He groans, a little bit of frustration, a little bit of exhaustion, and whatever else he's felt today.
He plops onto the roof and lets his knees dangle off the building.
Well, maybe it is a night for unbothered, lonesome swinging across New York City with the usual heavy thoughts that tend to bother him at the worst and most random times.
Stuff about Harry hating Spider-Man, blaming him with in all of Peter's honesty, a reasonable accusing finger. Yet at the same time he wants to tell both Harry and MJ why he is always running late, what he gets busy with. He does, at times, want to tell them he is Spider-Man and wonder if it would be easier that way. Minus Harry blaming Spidey, that will complicate things without a doubt.
Of course, then there happens to very unluckily be everything with Mary Jane. It feels conflicting, like he's standing in front of two paths that both will indefinitely change their relationship. Yet the paths lead to the same result despite their very different twists and bends. In the end next to nothing has happened between Peter and Mary Jane. Not anything really . But the sense of dejection still washes over it all the same like it did in high school.
Because he likes her. She's important to him.
He doesn't necessarily give up, it's just the world isn't exactly running the way he wants.
And the world is also full of people in need of help, he quickly remembers such as he hears a couple of shouts asking for help.
He pushes off the ground with his arms and his bullet-grazed wound stings a little. Even with extra strength and faster healing, it doesn't mean he never feels the pain or has to tend to the injuries he may acquire as Spider-Man.
He'll take care of it when he gets to his apartment. For now, there's a citizen of New York City currently being mugged and he's gotta stop it.