-Lucas-

I slammed my apartment door closed, hoping to feel something through this numbness. My one chance at a better life, gone. I only made it halfway across my living room when the numbness reached my hands. The box of things that I brought clattered to the ground. I stood there for what felt like forever, possibly a minute. But my mind raced like mad. Could I have done something different? What if I just minded my business, staying with everyone else at the expo floor? SOMEONE WOULD HAVE SAVED THEM! The spider people were there. It didn't have to be me! It didn't -

I sat, hands running through my hair. The tears wouldn't stop.

Good guys finish last. I did what I thought was right. I helped people, tried to save them. I wasn't scared of dying... And yet, I'm blamed for something I didn't do. If I wasn't the cause of all this, why am I getting dragged into it? What did I do wrong? How could I have fixed it? What do I do now?

No answers came, even though I really needed them. It took every part of me to not break a hole in my new apartment. Been here for almost two months and now I can't stay. And then... I wouldn't be able to date nice girls like Cindy... And... I still wanted to help people.

I still have that damn morality. 'If not me, then who?' I've been such an idiot. Why did I think... Why did I think it would serve me anything? All I've done is ruin a good chance at life. Now I gotta pay for a sh###y, tiny apartment, barely anything in the fridge. I can't even afford to eat much. But I need to eat. I need to work out.

I need to train.

The words echoed in my head. The tears suddenly stopped. My thoughts went back to the training I did in the military. Basic training, my IT job training, and everything after. They train you to be ready for anything. The worst case scenarios never happen, but that doesn't mean you can't be ready for them. If someone is going to take something from me.

I'm going to take it back.

I'm innocent. And I'll prove it. My anger will shoot me forward. I don't know who you are, but you chose the wrong motherfu#### to steal from. My phone flew to my pocket and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through my contacts until it landed one of the few guys I could ask this type of favor from. I held the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" The voice said.

"Campbell. It's Rojas. Been a while." I said, keeping my voice steady.

"Rojas? You doing alright? You sound weird." Campbell said.

"Not doing so hot. I need help." I said.

"What? What happened?" He asked.

"Assh### got me fired. Problem is, I don't know who. Can you help?" I asked.

"What do you mean? Aren't you..." he trailed off.

"I did. But I need to find someone who has been hacking into the company I used to work for. I just need you to use the tracing programs we used to work with. Whoever did this covered their tracks, but you can never truly hide. You got me?" I asked.

"Yeah. I understand. Give me the details." He replied.

"Okay. Here we go..."

The next few minutes were spent explaining the whole thing to him. From the data breach, to the theft of the Stark tech, and the use of my account.

"Jesus. That sounds like a sh## show." Campbell said.

"Agreed."

"Alright. I'll get back to you soon. Good luck." He said.

"Thanks man, I'll be on the lookout." I said, hanging up.

I sighed. In order to make sure this was the best decision for myself, I'd have to cut a few corners. Not to mention that I won't be able to keep dating Cindy. Not with the things I'm going to do. It almost feels like a good girl came at the wrong time.

So why do I still want to talk to her? To be honest, I liked her. I know I've known her for a couple months, but I genuinely think we could go somewhere. But what good is a relationship when I'm facing possible jail time? No, she deserves a good guy. Someone who can actually give her the future she wants.

And that's not me.

My stomach growled. Guess it was time to eat. I headed into the kitchen and looked into the fridge. It was time to get to work. From here on out, I have to remind myself that it didn't matter what happened, that I'd see this through to the end. You can't take something from a man who had to start from zero times

My alarm clock sounded. It was a simple device. A black digital screen with numbers. The alarm was a high pitched tone. I pressed a button to turn it off. I threw my blanket to the side and got up. 0600. Just like old times. The first step of my day had begun.

As I sat up in bed, I stretched my arms and yawned. I stood up, went to the bathroom, and took care of my needs. I scrolled through my phone and saw a message from Campbell. It was an encrypted message from an unknown IP. Of course, Campbell is the only person that knows how to send me an encrypted message.

I took to my living room and sat, opening it up. And I found a treasure trove of info. Unfortunately, a good majority of it wasn't anything of use to me. Dirty money, corrupt business, and all that. But, buried deep, there were names that caught my eye. But one in particular was the most intriguing.

Wilson Fisk.

Now, I know Wilson Fisk. I know he's a big shot in the criminal underworld and has been for years. But I also know he's no fool. I could be traced back to him. You don't work in the job I did in the military and not know the people to keep tabs on how to shield yourself from malicious reprisal. But, infiltrating his databases was too good of an opportunity to give up.

So, I used my expertise to dig around, and boy did I get lucky. Not only did I get the info on the Ghost Dragons, but I also found the location of their next deal. An auction. The way the invitation was written, Mr. Fisk wasn't the only one to receive this. Meaning, I can actually try to catch this crook myself.

From my past experiences, the military included, this is an opportunity. I need to see if they have any leads on who could have hacked into Stark Industries. This meant getting my hands on a Ghost Dragons and finding out if they know anything.

I continued looking at the invitation. There were no dates, but it told me to keep an eye open for a package. So, I need to find a way to track the delivery system.

I got to work on my laptop and got started with the basics. The invitation was an email, but the encryption and the sender address was hidden. This means that I have to do some digging. Luckily, I have the tools to do that.

I've done this hundreds of times. Throw all the simplest encryption cracking methods at it. Rainbow tables, dictionary attacks, brute forcing passwords, etc. While those may seem pretty standard, what made me so good at my job is that I knew a lot more ways to break into this.

After hours of trying to crack the password, I got in. They almost made me bring out my big guns. That would have been a call from my old Division Commander asking why I accessed their repository if I was retired. But, I finally broke the code. The password was "Wings of Change". Which, frankly, is a strange name for a password.

But, that wasn't the point. The point is, I'm in. Now to clone this as a secondary email. I needed a way to access it without leaving a trace. At least, not to me. I set up a series of rules that will trick the Ghost Dragons into thinking I'm not doing anything, and that I'm actually someone working for them. They may be tech savvy, but IT and technology were two different fields.

IT was all about coding and managing systems. Technology was a combination of both design and innovation.

I finished the coding and sent a test mail to myself. It worked. Now, to see what kind of information I can gather. I'll have to be careful, and make sure to cover my tracks. I didn't need to get caught by Fisk.

I began looking into the Ghost Dragon's activity. I searched for any other recent emails and found one. One that was garbled with signs and symbols. The message wasn't encrypted, but this was sent with intent. The email that sent it was some generic fake account, nothing special.

"So what the hell is this?" I asked myself.

I had to try and figure out how to solve it. It was definitely some form of code, and I'm not talking about basic stuff. It was complex. It was a cipher. I couldn't just crack it with a decryption key. This was going to be harder than I expected.

The code is a Vigenère cipher. I learned about it while in the military, and I was the one to teach it to my squad. Basic concept. Using a designated key, you shift the message over a certain amount of steps, retranslate the message and get gibberish. But this was a cipher with symbols, which meant the key was uniquely made for this message.

Which means, I need to figure out what the key is. Which meant one of two things, dig deeper, and risk exposure. Or attend this auction, find a way to this key, and be a step closer to finding the bastard who burned.

Either way, I have to go to this auction. I have to find a way to get in. This is where I can change my fate. I have to go and face this. It's the only way I can fix this. The question is, how do I get in? I don't have any connections to the underworld, and I don't have any reason to be there.

Unless you count a burning desire to prove my innocence and to see the people responsible behind bars. I called my right hand man again.

"Campbell, I got an in, but no alibi. Invitation has a follow up email that contains date, time, and location. Which means if there's a list, I'm dead before I can even get in. Either need to get on their list or have someone vouch for me."

"Wow. Okay. That's a lot of information in a short time. Let's try to break it down. Email sent. Fine. Did you get the invite?" He asked.

"Yeah, it should be in your inbox now. Cloned their inbox, so when they get that info, I'll have it on hand." I said.

"Alright. Next, you need a way in. You have a few options. Go on the offensive, or the defensive. Offensive is just going to land you in trouble, and defensive is a long shot."

"Defensive sounds like I need to buy a fancy tuxedo. You know I just got laid off, right?" I quipped.

"True, but, this could be your in. Get dressed and be ready for the mission. I know you hate being in a suit, but I know you can handle it."

"Alright. Who's gonna vouch for me? Sneaking in is one thing. But staying is another." I said.

"Already on it. I'll send you an email with what you need to do." He said, ending the call.

I opened up my email and saw the instructions. I need to head to a tailor and get a suit. It'll be paid for. Once I get it, I need to be ready to go to an auction. The invite will let me in, but I'll still need a backup plan. I packed up my computer and put my clothes on. I can't exactly go to a place in pajamas.

I grabbed my things and headed out the door.

The buzzing of the city seemed amplified, a constant reminder of the chaos swirling around me. I'd spent the past few days hunched over my laptop, buried in databases, deciphering coded messages, and piecing together a plan. My apartment, once a haven of relative peace, was now a war room of sorts, a testament to my obsession with clearing my name.

The Ghost Dragon's invitation had been a godsend, a chance to get inside their operation, to find the missing pieces of the puzzle. But it wasn't going to be easy.

I had to find a way to get on their radar.

I had spent hours analyzing the invite, deciphering their code, and setting up a series of mirrored accounts to mimic my supposed activity within their network. It was a risky move, but it was the only way to gain their trust, or at least their tolerance, without raising red flags.

I had also, reluctantly, followed Campbell's advice: I had gone to a tailor, a place known to cater to the city's elite. The suit I'd ended up with, a dark grey masterpiece of fine fabric and meticulous tailoring, felt both foreign and strangely empowering. It wasn't my usual style, but I had to blend in, had to become a part of this world, this twisted game of power and deception.

I was no hero, not anymore. But I wasn't a villain either. I was simply a man driven by a burning sense of injustice, fueled by a need to reclaim what had been stolen from him.

As the day of the auction drew closer, my anxiety intensified. The details of the email from Campbell, a seemingly innocuous meeting at a high-end hotel, suddenly felt loaded with danger. The thought of stepping into the lion's den, of facing those responsible for the data breach, for my downfall… It sent a tremor through me.

But I couldn't let fear control me.

I had to do this. For the truth.

My thoughts kept drifting back to Cindy. It was absurd, I knew. The woman I'd spent one night with, the woman I'd just started to know… She was a world away from the chaos I was about to walk into.

And yet, the memory of her warmth, her kindness, her courage, fueled a burning desire within me. I wanted to protect her, to keep her safe, even as my own world was falling apart.

I'd told her, in my own clumsy way, that I was going to fight for what was right. But could I truly do that? Could I live up to my own ideals when everything I knew about the world was being challenged, when I was forced to make choices that could have devastating consequences?

I'd been fired, framed, and forced to step back into a life I'd left behind. It was hard not to feel like a failure.

But then I'd see Cindy's face in my mind, remember the way she looked at me, the curiosity, the warmth, the acceptance… And it rekindled a spark of hope within me.

I couldn't give up. Not now.

I adjusted my tie for what felt like the hundredth time, the unfamiliar weight of the expensive suit making me acutely aware of how out of place I felt. Campbell's instructions had been clear: look the part, blend in, become invisible in plain sight. The dark grey suit, tailored to perfection, was a far cry from my usual attire, but it was a necessary disguise for the night ahead.

As I approached the warehouse where the auction was being held, my heart pounded against my ribs. This was it. My chance to find answers, to clear my name, to reclaim my life. The weight of the moment pressed down on me, a mixture of anticipation and dread churning in my stomach.

The entrance was guarded by two hulking figures, their eyes sharp and suspicious as they scanned the arriving guests. I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. Remember the cover story. You're here on behalf of an interested buyer. Just another face in the crowd.

I presented the invitation, praying that Campbell's work would hold up under scrutiny. The guard's eyes narrowed as he examined the paper, and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought I'd been made. But then he nodded, stepping aside to let me pass.

The interior of the warehouse was a jarring contrast to its industrial exterior. Chandeliers hung from the rafters, casting a sickly yellow glow over the assembled crowd. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and an undercurrent of tension. This wasn't just a gathering of criminals; it was a powder keg waiting to explode.

The place was buzzing, a sea of unfamiliar faces and a thick tension that made the air crackle. It was like stepping into a movie, a scene I'd only glimpsed from the safety of a computer screen. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the background of thumping bass and raucous laughter.

Focus, Lucas. You're here for a reason.

I forced myself to move, to blend in, to become another face in the crowd. But my gaze kept darting to every flash of movement, every whispered conversation, every shadow that flickered in the periphery. My senses were on high alert, my instincts honed by years of training screaming at me to run, to find a safe haven, to escape this madness.

I made my way through the crowd, my senses on high alert. Faces blurred together – hulking figures in ill-fitting suits, women dripping in diamonds, men who looked like they'd stepped out of a gangster movie. The diversity of the crowd was surprising, but it all pointed to one thing: whatever was being auctioned tonight was big. Really big.

I took a seat at the bar, ordered a drink I didn't really want, and tried to appear nonchalant. But my eyes kept scanning the room, searching for any sign of the Ghost Dragon leadership, for any clue that would lead me closer to the truth. My anxiety gnawed at me, the weight of my mission pressing down with suffocating force.

And then I saw her. She was here, looking stunning in an emerald green dress that hugged her curves. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the chaotic pulse of the room. But it wasn't just her beauty that caught my attention; it was the man beside her, tall and handsome in a tuxedo. Their arms were linked, their laughter blending with the music.

No. It couldn't be. Could it? Was I that desperate for a girl I barely knew? I tried to convince myself it was just a trick of the light, a cruel figment of my imagination. But a part of me, a stubborn, hopeful part, refused to believe it. I had to be sure. Damn it. I would make a bad spy. If feelings in me explode, I would have no choice but to follow them.

Driven by a desperate hope and perhaps a touch of recklessness, I stood up, needing to set my mind at ease. I circled around the bar, trying to get a better look at her face, to confirm if it was really her.

That's when she bumped into me.

My mind raced, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that had just slammed into me at the same time. Surprise. Disbelief. Hurt. And a gnawing sense of betrayal.

Cindy? Here?

"Cindy?"

The tuxedo, the dress, the casual ease with which they stood together… it felt like a slap in the face, a cruel reminder of how far apart our worlds truly were.

"I… didn't expect to see you here," I managed to say, my voice tight, my gaze flickering back to her. "Didn't know you were… into this kind of scene." The words tumbled out before I could stop them, fueled by a mix of shock and hurt.

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I could feel the weight of Cindy's gaze, those dark eyes that had once held such warmth now clouded with an emotion I couldn't decipher. A thousand questions swirled in my head, each one a sharp shard of doubt twisting in my gut.

Beside her, the guy shifted uncomfortably, extending a hand towards me. "Hey, Peter Parker," he said, his tone a forced attempt at casualness. "Cindy's… uh… date."

I hesitated, my gaze lingering on their linked arms, the way she leaned slightly towards him, a picture of intimacy that sent a wave of nausea through me. I forced myself to meet Peter's outstretched hand, my own grip tight, my knuckles white. "Lucas Rojas," I said, my voice clipped, the warmth I'd felt for them both just days ago replaced by a bitter chill.

The silence stretched again, heavier this time. I could feel Cindy's eyes on me, a weight that made it hard to breathe. I wanted to lash out, to demand answers, to shake her until the truth spilled from her lips. But I held myself back, the anger warring with a deep, aching sadness.

"I..." Cindy started to speak, but a commotion near the stage drew my attention. The Ghost Dragon leader, a hulking brute with a shaved head and a dragon tattoo snaking up his neck, was addressing the crowd, his voice booming over the din.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "We have something special to show you tonight."

The words barely registered. My gaze remained fixed on Cindy, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and hurt. I wanted to believe that this was all a misunderstanding, that there was a reasonable explanation for her presence here, for the accusations swirling around me. But the cold, hard truth was staring me in the face.

I was alone.

My world had crumbled, my dreams shattered, and the woman I'd started to care for... she was lost to me, a phantom in a world I no longer understood.

The air crackled with a tension that was almost palpable. I felt a tremor run through Cindy, saw a flicker of fear in her eyes as she glanced towards the hooded figures near the back of the room. Their faces were obscured, but the aura of menace radiating from them was undeniable.

Something was about to happen. Something bad.

I needed to get out of here.

I turned to Cindy, my voice low and urgent. "I need to go," I said, the words a rasp in my throat. "This… this isn't what it looks like."

And before she could respond, before I could even meet her gaze, I turned and disappeared into the crowd, the weight of her unspoken accusations a crushing burden on my shoulders.

"Tonight," he continued, his voice booming over the din, "we're offering a taste of the future! A piece of Stark ingenuity that'll make you the envy of every villain in this city!"

The Ghost Dragon leader raises a gleaming repulsor gauntlet, its metallic surface catching the garish lights of the warehouse. "One million!" a gravelly voice calls out from the back, barely audible above the din.

"One and a half!" another voice counters, sharp and clipped, with an accent I can't quite place.

"Two million!" booms a third voice, coming from a hulking figure shrouded in shadows. The crowd around him parts slightly, revealing a glint of gold chains and a menacing sneer.

The bastards! You won't get away with this. Showing that thing off like a damn championship belt. Enjoy it while you can. I'm going to tear it right out of your hands.

"Four million! Don't be foolish, gentlemen! This tech will revolutionize the weapons industry!" A man in an impeccably tailored suit pushes his way through the crowd, his face a mask of smug confidence.

"Five million! Going once, going twice…" The Ghost Dragon leader's eyes gleam with delight, reveling in the chaos he's created.

The Ghost Dragon leader's words faded into a meaningless drone as the hooded figures sprang into action. My gaze locked onto the chaos unfolding near the stage, my instincts screaming at me to move. I didn't hesitate. This wasn't just about reclaiming my life anymore; it was about preventing something far worse. The warehouse erupted into a frenzy of shouts, shattering glass, and the deafening roar of energy blasts. Bodies collided, tables overturned, and the stench of fear mingled with the sickly sweet scent of spilled liquor. My body broke into a sprint trying to follow their movements. For a second I lose sight of them, only to see a woman whip by with the gauntlet in hand.

The woman in black burst through a side door, disappearing into the night. Cindy was right behind her, a shadow melting into the darkness.

Damn it! I couldn't let them disappear. Not now. Not with so much at stake.

I didn't follow blindly. Instead, I paused, my mind racing, calculating angles, recalling the warehouse layout I'd studied in Campbell's intel. There had to be a faster way, a way to cut them off, to intercept them before they disappeared into the labyrinthine streets of the city.

My gaze darted to a narrow alleyway across the street, a sliver of darkness between two towering buildings. It was a long shot, a gamble, but it was my only chance.

I bolted towards the alley, ignoring the shouts and the panicked scramble of bodies around me. My lungs burned, my legs screamed in protest, but I pushed harder, adrenaline fueling my every step. This was a race against time, a desperate sprint towards a truth I couldn't afford to lose.

I reached the alleyway, my chest heaving, my heart pounding against my ribs like a frantic drum. A rickety fire escape clung to the side of the building, its rusty metal groaning under my weight as I scaled it with a speed that surprised even myself.

The rooftop stretched before me, a maze of chimneys, vents, and water towers silhouetted against the moonlit sky. I scanned the cityscape, my gaze searching for any sign of movement, for any hint of emerald green or the telltale shimmer of black leather.

There! Across the street, two figures were leaping across the rooftops, their movements a dance of shadows and moonlight.

Cindy. The name echoed in my mind, a desperate prayer against the wind.

I had to reach her. I needed to know what was going on.

I took a deep breath, ignoring the tremor in my legs, the throbbing ache in my side. This wasn't a game, wasn't some adrenaline-fueled fantasy. This was real. And the stakes were higher than I'd ever imagined.

I launched myself across the gap between buildings, my arms outstretched, my fingers scrabbling for purchase on the rough brick. I landed hard, the impact jarring my teeth, but I didn't hesitate. I scrambled to my feet, my gaze fixed on the fleeing figures.

The chase was on.

I pushed myself to my limits, my body screaming in protest as I sprinted, leaped, and climbed, my movements fueled by a desperation that bordered on madness. I wasn't Spider-Man. I didn't have his grace, his agility, his web-slinging abilities. But I had something else: an unyielding determination, a burning need to set things right.

I was gaining on them.

I could see them now, their silhouettes illuminated by the moon's pale glow as they paused on the edge of a rooftop. Cindy was facing the woman, her emerald green dress a splash of color against the dark cityscape. They were arguing, their voices tense and urgent, but I couldn't make out the words. Cindy was knocked down. Then, a flash of blue energy, a gesture of aggression that sent a jolt of fear through me.

She was about to fire the gauntlet.

No! I lunged forward, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. I had to stop her. I had to protect Cindy.

I didn't hesitate.

I pushed every ounce of energy in me, my suit already scuffed and torn from trying to make these dangerous leaps, he pushed off to reach the other side. I hit the ground hard. But I rolled straight onto my feet, ignoring the screaming and pulsing pain I just hit my body with. I sprinted and reached out, grabbing the gauntlet with deadly precision and pulled it away from Cindy.

"This doesn't belong to you." I expressed angrily.

The woman froze, her emerald green eyes widening in surprise. She looked from my hand on her wrist to my face, her expression a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"Well, well, well," she purred, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "What have we here? Looks like someone's decided to play hero."

She tilted her head, studying me with a predatory gaze. She was sizing me up, that much was obvious, but I made damn sure I held on to the gauntlet.

"Military, I presume?" she asked, a knowing smirk curving her lips. Doesn't matter if you know what I've done, it's over.

"I don't know who you are," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "but how about you pick on someone your own size?"

Hers smile widened, a slow, feline curve that wasn't exactly the response I expected.

"Oh, I do love a challenge," she purred. "But you're right, you're hardly a worthy opponent."

With a flick of her wrist, she twisted free of my grip, her movements so swift and fluid that I barely had time to react. She spun, her leg snapping out in a perfectly executed roundhouse kick, a swift blow to my chest. I staggered back, the air knocked out of me, trying desperately to breath and stay on my feet. I felt the rooftop railing on my back, the metal groaning under the impact.

"Lucas!" Cindy screamed. My heart raced.

I couldn't react fast enough to retaliate. This woman was already on me. She moved with a predatory grace, her every action precise and calculated. I put my arms up, hoping to get some time to figure out how to counter her. She feinted a punch, then swept my legs out sending me crashing to the ground.

"Don't worry, tough guy," she purred. "I'll make this quick."

I lifted my arms to block, but it didn't matter. A good kick sent me tumbling over the edge. For that second I thought my heart stopped, a scream forcing its way out.

The world tilted, the cityscape a dizzying blur of lights and shadows as I tumbled through the air. My stomach lurched, a wave of nausea washing over me as the ground rushed closer, the unforgiving concrete a stark reminder of my own mortality.

This is it. This is what happens when you play hero.

Cindy's scream, a distant cry of anguish, pierced through the roaring wind, a final echo of the life I was leaving behind.

Then, a tug at my chest, a jolt that yanked me back from the brink. My fall was arrested, my body swinging in a dizzying arc, the world a chaotic kaleidoscope of motion and disorientation.

I looked up, my vision blurry, my head spinning. Was this... webbing? I was looking for the familiar red and blue but was shocked into full consciousness.

"Peter?" I asked with a shock that nearly killed me in place of the fall. Perched on a streetlight was the man that was with Cindy at the party. Peter Parker.

Peter offered a sheepish grin, his eyes flickering towards Cindy, then back to me.

"Hey, uh... surprise?" He said, his voice a bit nervous. "Didn't expect to be playing Spider-Man tonight, but... you know, sometimes life throws you a curveball." He gestured with his web shooter, a sheepish shrug accompanying the movement. "Glad I could catch you, though. That was a close one."

I had to blink a few times to let the reality of the situation sink in. I shook my head slightly, as if to realign my brain to what just happened.

"Y-yeah. Thanks." I offered. I twisted my head upward to the woman in black who was looking over the edge.

The woman was perched on the edge of the rooftop, let out a throaty chuckle that echoed through the night.

"Left the suit at the cleaners, Spidey?" she purred, her voice a mix of amusement and annoyance. "Shame you weren't here to stop me." Her emerald green eyes glinted in the moonlight as she shifted her gaze to me, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

"And you, soldier…" she drawled, tilting her head. "You're more tenacious than I gave you credit for. But did you really think you could walk away with that?" She gestured towards my hand, her voice laced with a mocking amusement.

I looked down to see that I had the gauntlet. Through all the craziness that happened in the last minute, I didn't even feel it.

She laughed, a throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Don't get too attached, darling. It's not yours to keep." She blew me a kiss, a mocking gesture that lingered in the air like a threat. And then, with a feline grace that defied the darkness, she vanished into the night, leaving a lingering echo of her laughter in her wake.

A heavy silence settled over the rooftop, broken only by the distant wail of sirens and the pounding of my own heart. I stared at the gauntlet in my hand, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat surging through my veins. It felt… unreal. I'd almost died, been yanked back from the brink by a guy who shot webs from his wrist, and somehow ended up with a piece of Stark tech that could level a city block.

My gaze shifted to Peter, who was watching me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He still held the web shooter in his hand, the device a tangible reminder of the impossible feat he'd just pulled off. On the roof, Cindy stood frozen, her emerald green dress pooled around her feet, her eyes wide and unreadable.

And an unsettling truth struck me like lightning. It may had looked different, but she was wearing a suit I've seen too many times before. I wouldn't have been able to believe it even if I saw it. But Peter revealing he was Spider-Man made it all the more real.

Cindy was Silk.

-Cindy-

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, punctuated only by the distant wail of sirens and the rasp of Lucas's breath. I watched him, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a wave of nausea washing over me.

He knows.

The realization hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. I could see it in his eyes, the shock, the confusion, the dawning understanding of the truth I'd tried so desperately to conceal.

My fingers tightened around the discarded fabric of my dress, the emerald green silk a cruel reminder of the charade I'd been playing. It was over. The mask had fallen, both literally and figuratively, and I was exposed, raw, vulnerable.

What have I done?

I wanted to explain, to apologize, to rewind time and erase this moment from existence. But the words wouldn't come. My throat constricted, a lump of fear and shame lodging itself like a stubborn stone.

Peter, ever the perceptive one, cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. "So, uh..." he began, his voice hesitant, his gaze darting between us. "Awkward?"

My cheeks burned. Understatement of the century.

The air in Peter's apartment felt thick and heavy, a tangible reflection of the tension that hung between us. The familiar clutter of photography equipment, stacks of comics, and half-eaten takeout containers somehow amplified the awkwardness of the situation.

I'd changed back into my jeans and a T-shirt, the soft, familiar fabric a comfort against the clammy chill that clung to my skin. The emerald green dress lay discarded on the floor, a crumpled reminder of the shattered facade I'd worn for too long.

Lucas sat on the edge of the worn couch, his dark grey suit rumpled and stained, his gaze fixed on the repulsor gauntlet still clutched in his hand. He looked exhausted, his face pale, his eyes shadowed with a mix of shock and something else… something I couldn't quite decipher.

Peter paced restlessly between us, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his brow furrowed with a concern that mirrored my own. He'd insisted on bringing Lucas back to his apartment, the closest safe haven after that chaotic rooftop escape. I was grateful, even though every fiber of my being screamed at me to run, to disappear, to hide from the truth that was now laid bare between us.

"So..." Peter began, his voice hesitant, his gaze darting between us. "Anyone want to explain what the hell just happened?"

My gaze snapped to Lucas, my heart pounding against my ribs like a frantic bird. It was time. I couldn't hide anymore. "Lucas…" I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. "There's... something I need to tell you."

He closed my eyes and sighed audibly.

"I only want to know one thing." he murmured. He returned his gaze to mine before asking a single question.

"Why were you at the warehouse?"

Lucas's question, simple yet loaded with unspoken accusations, hung in the air between us. My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the chaotic thoughts swirling in my head.

His gaze was intense, those warm brown eyes that had once held such curiosity and kindness now clouded with a mix of hurt and suspicion. It was like looking into a mirror, reflecting back all the lies and secrets I'd kept hidden for so long.

He deserves the truth.

The thought resonated within me, a whisper of conscience against the clamor of fear.

"I…" My voice cracked, the words catching in my throat. I glanced at Peter, seeking support, but he just offered a helpless shrug, his expression a mix of sympathy and understanding. It was on me. I had to do this.

"I wasn't there for the auction," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was there because… because I was following the trail of the stolen Stark tech."

Confusion clouded Lucas's features, his brows knitted together as he struggled to find the words. He shook his head, a bewildered frown tugging at his lips.

"Why?" he finally asked, his voice barely a whisper, the single word heavy with unspoken questions.

His gaze flickered to Peter, a silent acknowledgement of the impossible truth hanging in the air – Peter as Spider-Man. Then, his eyes returned to mine, searching, accusing, a storm of emotions brewing behind them.

"What's your stake in this?" His voice hardened, the gentle warmth replaced by a sharp edge that pierced through my defenses. "Was this for a story? Because I –" He broke off, his voice rising in anger, but then he stopped, his expression shifting, a new thought intruding on his fury.

He stood abruptly, his movements stiff and uncertain, and walked towards me. My breath hitched in my throat, my heart pounding against my ribs as he reached out, his hand hovering hesitantly before settling gently on my side, right where the lamppost had struck me.

"I was worried when you ran," he admitted, his voice soft, a vulnerability breaking through the anger.

A warmth spread through me where his hand rested, a stark contrast to the icy fear that had been gripping my heart. His touch, gentle and concerned, was a tangible reminder of the connection we'd shared, a connection that now felt impossibly fragile.

"Lucas…" I whispered, my voice catching in my throat. I wanted to pull away, to retreat into the safety of anonymity, but his gaze held me captive, those brown eyes searching mine with a mix of hurt and something else… something that looked suspiciously like hope.

"It's not… just a story," I said, struggling to find the words, to explain a truth that felt too big, too unbelievable. "It's… everything. It's who I am."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to meet his gaze, to let him see the fear and the vulnerability that I'd kept hidden for so long. "I'm not… just Cindy Moon, the reporter. I'm… Silk."

Lucas nodded, his hand dropping away from my side, the warmth of his touch lingering like a ghost. He took a step back, his gaze shifting to Peter, his expression a mask of guarded determination.

"I don't need your help," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I did this. This is my fault." He paused, his eyes flickering back to me for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. "But…" he continued, his voice hardening, "I didn't steal or give access to anyone to steal Mr. Stark's data. I wouldn't… And having anyone else involved would only make things more difficult."

My heart ached at his words, at the weight of responsibility he was carrying, at the pain I'd caused him. He was trying to protect me, to shield me from the fallout of his actions, even though I was the one with the powers, the one who should be protecting him.

"Please, just-" I started to say, but Peter cut me off, his voice gentle but firm.

"Look, man," Peter said, stepping forward, his gaze steady and reassuring. "We get it. You want to handle this on your own. But… this isn't just about you anymore. This is about Stark tech falling into the wrong hands. This is about people getting hurt. Maybe even… killed."

A flicker of vulnerability crossed Lucas's face, a chink in the armor of determination he'd built around himself. "Do you believe me then?" he asked, his gaze meeting mine, the question hanging in the air between us, heavy with unspoken longing. "Do you believe I'm not the one who let someone steal from Mr. Stark?"

My heart clenched at the raw honesty in his voice, at the desperation in his eyes. He wasn't just asking for my help; he was asking for my trust, for my faith in him when the whole world seemed to have turned against him.

"Lucas," I said, stepping closer, my hand reaching out to touch his arm, a gesture of comfort and reassurance. "Of course I believe you. I know you wouldn't do something like that."

Peter, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the fragile thread of trust that was starting to weave between us, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, man," he said, his voice earnest. "We know you're not a bad guy. You wouldn't be here if you were."

"But," I continued, my gaze meeting Lucas's, "we need to work together. We need to figure out who's behind this, who's framing you, and why." I took a deep breath, my voice hardening with resolve. "This isn't just about clearing your name anymore, Lucas. This is about stopping something bigger, something dangerous."

The air in Peter's apartment crackled with a new kind of energy, a shared sense of purpose replacing the earlier tension. This wasn't just about me and Lucas anymore; it was about a threat that could endanger the entire city, a web of deceit that extended far beyond the walls of this cluttered apartment.

"We need a plan," I said, my gaze sweeping across their faces, seeking their trust, their willingness to join me in this fight.