Yo yo yo wazzup peeps? Who wants the dealio about what's been going on in the 616's 212?
Sorry… I binged American Dragon: Jake Long a couple weeks ago.
Crazy couple of months for me. Feel free to skip the rest of this note if you're just here for the fic (which, fair, you're following my story not me hahaha) but anyway here's why I'm a little delayed updating: I started off at my breaking point thanks to the repeatedly insufferable, cretinous wretches I have to call my flatmates; an ongoing lack of luck in my job search; and the worst timing in parental history. Why oh why do you wait until I've JUST told you that my first professional design is open to the public — and I'm planning a visit to get photos for my portfolio and fortify my resume and candidacy, which I won't postpone until you're able to go with me since I need the pics for my job search — to tell me it's time to reevaluate what failure means to me and just settle for a nothing job? When I've made it clear the only reason I'm spending money on the trip is to benefit my job hunt? Can someone—does anybody understand this logic?
One tearful dinner prep later, though, and I planned my last-minute trip to leave ASAP, high-tailed it to [unspecified location in Italy], spent some time at the hotel's private spa, explored historic towns, had amazing food, and spent more than 3 hours at my completed project taking photos and generally enjoying myself and feeling like a rockstar.
So now I've edited the photos, updated my portfolio, overhauled my resume, and [most importantly] finished drafting this chapter for y'all to enjoy. Sending so much love to my beta team/friends for their help in finessing this chapter and offering endless moral support.
General Notes
"This is dialogue."
"This is alternative dialogue, meaning whispered or spoken from a distance such as on the phone."
'This is thought.'
This and THIS and *this* are emphasis. The *this* emphasis is more along the lines of the snarky or sarcastic.
[This is digital text, such as notifications on a computer or smartphone. It also represents A.I. voices, such as Karen or F.R.I.D.A.Y./"Friday" (because I really don't feel like typing out the full acronym with periods every time she comes up).]
I do not own Danny Phantom nor Spider-Man.
Ch. 09 originally published: Friday, May 28, 2021
FIRE WITH FIRE
09 — A Dream of Normality
Astoria — Monday, September 26, 15:17
"Hey, where are you going?"
Confused, Peter pointed behind him.
"What are you hiding, Peter?"
Mimicking a deer in headlights, he gawked.
MJ finally broke into a smile. "I'm just kidding. I don't care. Bye!" she dismissed with a wave. "Alright, so we should run some drills."
Peter left the table, leaving the rest of the Decathlon team to continue strategizing for the remainder of the school year's battle plan. MJ's gaze followed Peter as he rushed out of the library.
Jazz leaned over to MJ. "Peter's kinda strange, isn't he…" the redhead commented.
"Yeah," MJ agreed with a lazy nod. She hesitated a moment, then leaned in towards the elder Fenton sibling. "*Your brother's* kinda strange."
Jazz paled. "What? No, he's—he's just preoccupied."
MJ resettled into her seat, a knowing smirk teasing the corners of her mouth. "So you're in on it, too… Huh."
Jazz tried to disguise her grimace as an innocent smile.
Manhattan Correctional Center, Lower Manhattan — Tuesday, September 27, 11:00
"This way, Mr. Stark."
Tony looked up from his phone to acknowledge the gravelly voice that had addressed him. The billionaire followed the beat cop down the hall, his clipped steps stopping shy of a private interrogation room. The policeman opened the door with a keycard before blocking the opening with his wide shoulders.
"Alright, Toomes, Mr. Stark here would like to talk to you next," the man informed and stepped aside, allowing Tony to enter.
"Stark?" Toomes asked disbelievingly. His eyes fell on the billionaire, leading the perp to shake his head and cross his arms.
Tony stayed back by the two-way mirror, allowing the cop to shut the door in a semblance of privacy. Strolling nonchalantly towards a waiting chair, he flippantly turned it around. "Hey, Birdman. Ruffle a lot of feathers recently?" he jested.
Adrian scoffed. "What do you care?"
"You took my stuff," Tony stated simply. He straddled the chair, folded his arms across the back support, then sighed. "And you broke my plane."
"You can thank Spider-Man for that. I didn't do nothing to damage the jet until he showed up."
"So you…did do something?" Tony clarified. He swiveled around in his chair to look at the mirror. "You guys got that, right?" his thumb jabbed in Toomes' direction at the rhetorical question.
"Leave it, Stark," Toomes spat.
Tony whipped around to face him. "Sorry, the double negative confused me. You know how much of an air-headed billionaire I can be."
Adrian glowered.
Tony smirked. "That's what it's all about, isn't it? The haves and have-nots? This isn't Les Mis. I would know; I stayed awake through at least half of it."
"Look, did you come here to ask something, or did you come just to be a sore winner?"
"Bit o' both." Tony set his phone screen-up on the table and opened a hologram of several news reports displaying the crash site. "How did you know what was on the manifest? We didn't even know till a couple days before."
"Trade secret."
"Inside guy?" Tony quirked his brow. "Inside gal?"
"Maybe Stark Tower is just haunted," Toomes taunted.
Tony offered a sardonic smirk. "Avengers Tower, actually. Or maybe it's...I forget who bought it. Oscorp, maybe? Once you see more than nine zeros on a check, you stop caring about the details."
The indicted man scoffed. "As easy as it is to find someone disaffected by your oligarchical cheerleading squad, you're going to have one hell of a suspect list."
" 'Disaffected,' 'oligarchical'... Wow, did you swallow a dictionary?" Tony massaged his temple. "So who's on your payroll? A jaded janitor? A fired fiend's friend? Or maybe...a two-faced family member?"
Toomes merely took a sip of his water.
Restrategizing, Stark swept away the holographic imagery hovering above his phone and brought up a school portrait of Danny Fenton. "Do you know this kid?"
Adrian squinted at the image. "Oh, him? He was at my daughter's party a couple weeks ago. He and his sister ended up staying the night."
"Is he your mole?"
Toomes frowned. "A kid? How the hell would he be a good spook? Besides, I don't even know him."
"You knew him well enough to let him stay the night."
"What was I supposed to do? It was 3:00 am when I got home, and he was already asleep on the couch. Poor kid got hurt when those ghost things destroyed my living room," he complained bitterly.
"Ah, yes, the 'ghost things.' " Tony's hand swiped through the air, the news feeds transitioning to footage of the wraiths and the ghost kid at various points in the evening. "Wraiths. And Danny Phantom." Tony studied the interrogatee for signs of recognition. Seeing no response, he needled, "Is Phantom your guy? You both like pilfering other people's tech."
Adrian scoffed. "If he and I were working together, I sure as hell wouldn't've let him demolish part of my house."
"Hm." Tony pensively closed the hologram and crossed his own arms to mirror Toomes. Doing his best to disguise any rising anxiety, he asked, "One last thing, Toomes: What can you tell me about Spider-Man?"
"What, you want a performance review?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of how deep in witness protection do we have to stuff his girlfriend so your cronies don't dangle her off the Queensboro Bridge?"
Toomes glared. His eyes flicked up and down Tony's person in appraisal. Seemingly coming to a decision, he admitted, "No, I don't know who the kid is. Though you sure start 'em young."
Visibly more relaxed, Tony stood and buttoned the blazer over his t-shirt. "I didn't start him; I just help out."
Adrian rolled his eyes.
"And so do my oodles of money and political weight. Good luck in court," he called over his shoulder as he left the room.
Happy stood waiting in the hallway. "Does he know?"
"Says he doesn't, but I trust him about as much as Romanoff," Tony answered, powering past his chauffeur and down the hall to the police station's lobby. "Drop off Peter's old suit. I want him to have extra protection if he's not gonna move upstate after all."
Happy sighed, trudging along behind his boss who managed to slip through the exit ahead of him. "Does that mean-"
Tony glanced over his shoulder to give Happy a smug smile before opening the rear passenger door. "Maybe if you replied every once in a while, he wouldn't be so excited to tell you about a churro."
Astoria — 11:30
The populace of Midtown Science and Technology bled into the theater like a lazy flood. Stage lights illuminated a lone podium, behind which hung a giant screen showing the school's crest as a wallpaper.
"Hey, Parker! Fenton!" MJ called out.
The boys looked over to see their classmate beckoning them over from next to two vacant seats and the rest of the Academic Decathlon team, plus Betty Brant. Betty caught Danny's eye and offered her own smile and wave. Remembering Peter's apparent injuries from Saturday night, Danny gingerly patted Peter's shoulder and indicated for him to enter first, leaving Danny at the edge of the already established friend group.
"What do you think they're gonna brainwash us with this time?" Michelle drawled.
"Well, they said 'Wraith Awareness,' so maybe…ghost rights?" Peter joked.
"Ha! As if," Danny barked. He felt the others' eyes on him and looked over. "What? This isn't my first ghost rodeo."
"Where is your sister?" Abe asked.
"She's not with you guys?" Danny replied.
The overhead lights dimmed, leaving all focus on the stage. The pointed glare was the only thing illuminating the students' faces, the rest of the space falling into near-darkness.
Principal Morita emerged from stage left and traversed to the dais, dousing the room with silence. "Thank you all for coming."
"As if we have a choice," Flash muttered, earning a kick from another teammate.
"Since the start of the year," the principal began, "Midtown has encountered a growing threat along with the rest of the five boroughs: ghosts."
A few scattered snickers emanated from the audience.
"Why laugh? You've all seen it," the man sassed and pressed a button on the laptop waiting on the podium. A poorly-cut conglomeration of Instagram Live feeds replaced the school crest. "Our thanks to the broadcasting club for compiling these videos." He nodded at a teacher in the back, then continued, "As you can see, we now know ghosts exist and can cause real damage. Our concern first and foremost is student safety, so the school has decided to start a new preparedness initiative. We plan to be ready in the event of further attacks and will be implementing additional security measures around the school. As of Monday morning, the board has hired a couple of experts to help us along the way."
Danny roughly grabbed his seat's armrests. "Oh, no…"
Peter side-eyed his neighbor.
"We are fortunate to have such experienced scientists on site who I'm told have past experience equipping high schools for defense against ghosts," Morita added.
Danny slumped down as far in his seat as he could. "Oh, no…"
Now the entire Decathlon team was leaning down the row to look at him.
"I'd like to present Doctors Jack and Madeline Fenton," the principal finished with a sweep of his arm towards the wings.
Jack and Maddie emerged in full hazmat gear, a sight which hadn't assaulted Danny's eyes since Amity.
"I thought God was supposed to be merciful," Danny whined quietly.
"Hey, Danny!" Peter hissed. "It's your par-!"
"Ssssshhh!" Danny hushed. "Nobody needs to know that!"
"Hi, kids!" Maddie called out over the speaker system, the woman's chipper-as-ever voice echoing through the auditorium as her husband beamed beside her. "My husband and I are so happy to come visit Midtown. If our name rings a bell, that's probably because you've met our kids! Jazz? Danny? Are you in here?"
The entire student body contorted around in their seats, looking for any sign of the Fenton kids. Jazz was nowhere to be found.
"Danny, stand up!" Abraham whispered at him, the other Decathlon teammates murmuring their agreement.
Danny looked at Peter. "Please don't make me," he begged.
"Come on, you two! I know you're in here," Maddie chided goodnaturedly.
"Just get it over with," Peter chuckled.
With a defeated groan, Danny reluctantly peeled his torso from the seat and stood.
"Dan the Man! There you are!" Jack bellowed with an enthusiastic wave.
Grimacing, Danny meekly waved back before plopping back down and raising the hood of his sweatshirt. He did his best to ignore the surrounding snickers of his new 'friends.'
"Anyway," Maddie continued from the stage, "Jack and I will be working around campus to install some anti-ecto technology over the next few weeks. In the meantime, we've prepared this comprehensive presentation so you know how to react if you encounter any of these emotional leeches again and what to expect after you've come into contact with their aura."
Sunnyside — 12:00
The elevator signaled its arrival at the seventh floor and deposited Happy into the hallway. Clutching the folded top of a brown paper bag in his left fist, he shook his head disapprovingly. Happy approached the door to apartment 7B and rang the buzzer.
After a moment passed, a feminine voice called "Can I help you?" through the door.
"Yeah, I've got a delivery for Peter Parker?" the suited man called in reply, fixing his tie as he did so.
"How'd you get in? Nobody buzzed the door."
"Some old guy in sunglasses let me in."
"Ugh, Gary," he heard the woman mutter. "Can you just leave it outside and I'll get it later?"
"Mr. Stark would probably prefer I bring it inside personally."
"Stark?" A deadbolt slid within the door and the wooden structure whipped open to reveal a startlingly beautiful brunette. "You work for Tony Stark? Wasn't Peter fired?"
Happy's voice caught in his throat. The man's eyes darted down and up the woman's shockingly flattering scrubs as she leaned into the door. The sensation of the paper bag slipping from his grasp snapped him out of it. "U-uh, I'm Hap of security, Heady Hogan."
May Parker's eyebrow quirked up.
"I mean, Happy Hogan, head of security. For Mr. Stark. And the Avengers. …A-and Stark Industries."
"You must be a busy guy," May intoned. "But what's the head of security of the world's protectors doing dropping something off for an ex-intern?"
"Not ex. More like a…temporary suspension? It's just, uh, something Peter was working on. Mr. Stark wants him to have it so he can continue practicing with it until he comes back."
"Oh. Well, I'm sure Pete'll be happy to hear that. I'll leave it for him to find when he gets home from school." Reaching out, she snatched the paper bag from Happy's clutches before he could protest. "Anything else? I'm almost late for my shift at Cedar Sinai."
"Uh—well—" He registered the woman's complete disinterest in the bag and its contents. "No. Need a ride?"
"Thanks, Mr. Hogan, but I've got a car," she replied. "I'll tell Pete you said hi. Okay?"
"Uh—yeah."
With a final coy smile, May shut the door.
Happy spun on his heel to go back downstairs. 'Tony sure wasn't exaggerating.'
Sunnyside — 15:45
Danny wasn't certain he would ever adjust to the silence of an empty house. In Amity, a ruckus was always emanating from the basement lab; in Queens, his parents were always downtown at Avengers' Tower until closer to dinner time.
"Danny, is that you?" Maddie asked from the kitchen.
Attention caught, Danny spun around before he could enter his room. "Oh, hi, Mom. What are you doing home?"
"After the assembly, your father and I wrapped things up at Midtown earlier than expected," she explained, replacing the kitchen towels with fresh ones and adding the dirtied ones to the laundry basket. "I thought it would be nice to take the rest of the afternoon off, come home, do some chores, and cook a good dinner like a real mom."
"You are a real mom!" Danny said with a chuckle. He slid past the woman and grabbed a cereal bar from the cupboard.
"I gotta be honest...I'm sorta liking this normal family thing," Maddie continued, moving to fill a pot with water after dropping the laundry basket in the master hallway. "When we move back to Amity next year, we'll have to try this more."
"Try what?"
"Oh, you know," she continued, shutting off the tap and bringing the pot to the stove. "Home-cooked meals, family time, being around to help with homework, no work after 6…"
"With Dad having the basement lab right there 24/7… Sure, Mom," Danny agreed drily.
Maddie sighed. "At least let me dream of normality."
"Since when is that a thing?" Danny quipped. Leaving the kitchen, he called over his shoulder, "I'll be in my room if you need me."
Upon reaching his desk, Danny unpacked his Spanish book before taking the stolen Fenton Finder from its hiding place and turning it on. Productivity was not meant to be, however. The ghost hunting device's screen flashed multiple notifications, the automated voice talking over itself with an influx of alerts. A feeling of dread pooled in the boy's stomach when he closed the texts to view a live map.
[Ghost three hundred feet ahead]
[Ghost three hundred feet west]
{Multiple ghosts one-quarter mile south]
[Ghost directly ahead]
Danny's head whipped up to look out the window.
Vacuum.
[You would have to be some sort of moron to not notice the ghost directly ahead.]
Danny quickly transformed and leaped at the incoming wraith.
Sunnyside — 16:15
Peter tossed his keys onto his dresser; they overshot and jingled to the floor. He froze in the doorway, seeing a brown paper bag proudly perched on the bed's bottom bunk with a message scrawled across it.
This belongs to you. -TS
Peter's jaw dropped. He rushed to the bag, ripping the top slightly in his haste to get it open. His Stark-developed suit sat folded neatly inside. Peter wasted no time in unfurling the fabric and pulling it on, mask and all.
[Welcome back, Peter,] Karen greeted.
"Hey, Karen," Peter replied. "It's good to be back."
The teen hero slid his window open and leaped out into the afternoon sun, enjoying a sense of freedom he hadn't experienced for weeks. He felt at peace, content to watch over his borough—his home—in a way he hadn't since before the fiasco with Liz's dad. It certainly put things into perspective. Sometimes saving the world meant saving his world.
"Alright, Karen, I could use a workout," Peter directed at the A.I. from his perch over Queens Blvd. "What do you have for me?"
[Everything's pretty quiet today,] Karen responded.
"...Oh," Peter replied, deflating.
[You seem to enjoy swinging around the Financial District?]
"Oh, yeah," Peter agreed. He chuckled. "Remember that banker that spilled coffee all over his desk when I slammed into his window that one time?"
[I have footage stored under the deactivated Baby Monitor Protocol. Would you like to replay it?]
"C'mon, Karen…" Peter chided.
Before too long, Peter found himself cruising down the East River on the roof of a ferry. The sun shone beautifully, suffusing his skin with a slow heat. When coupled with the recent successes in his life, Peter couldn't help but hum along to a song stuck in his head as his legs swayed freely over the roof's edge. Just as the ferry cleared the Brooklyn Bridge, however, the A.I. piped up again.
[Peter, someone's just called police dispatch regarding vandalism and a public disturbance outside Barclays Center. Police are en route. They are reportedly armed.]
Mood unaffected, the teen backflipped to his feet and shot a web at the bridge's superstructure. "Better than nothing!" he grunted, yanking himself off of the ferry and alighting on a bus, riding it into Downtown Brooklyn. The hero arrived at the plaza in front of Barclays Center and perched on top of the Atlantic Terminal Mall.
The plaza was in chaos. A group of twenty-odd teens in matching hoodies and balaclavas surrounded a statue. A growing number of pedestrians stood around recording the goings-on with their phones. Some tourists appeared particularly interested. Paying closer attention, Peter saw that the protesters each brandished homemade signs.
'TRAITOR'
'GO BACK TO 1940'
'THE SOKOVIANS SAYS HI'
'CAPTAIN AMERICA SUCKS'
"Captain America? They're protesting Captain America?! Karen, zoom and enhance."
The suit's heads-up display overlaid a close-up feed of the statue. The former national symbol stood in a heroic pose with various doodles spray-painted all over him.
[The statue was commissioned as an honor to Captain Rogers after the victory over the invading Chitauri,] Karen explained. [It would appear the teens are displeased with Captain America's recent refusal to sign the Sokovia Accords.]
"Yeah I kinda got that, thanks."
[No permit to gather peacefully is on record at City Hall.]
"So they didn't do the paperwork to express anger with Captain America about not agreeing to do paperwork?"
[Your perception of the situation's irony is very impressive, Peter.]
"Was that sarcasm?"
A fleet of accelerating sirens sounded around the corner, distracting Spider-Man along with most of the gathering observers. The protesters' signs faltered slightly before the teens bolstered themselves and flaunted the signs even higher.
"Wow, those guys got here fast," Peter commented.
[There is a precinct around the corner. The protesters appear unaware of Google Maps' utility.]
"Am I even necessary?"
One of the disguised teens leaped onto the statue's thigh, grabbing the captain's head for support as he found his balance. Punching his fist into the air, he cried out "True Americans!" to his cohorts.
As the police cars surrounded the plaza and deposited a number of beat cops onto the pavement, the protesters dropped their signs as one and each brandished a gun. Outcries rippled through the crowd with similar warnings dispersing amongst the officers. The police ducked for cover and unholstered their own guns, barking orders at the naive teens to drop their weapons.
"Holy crap!" Peter exclaimed. Backing away from the roof's edge for a better run-up, the hero sprinted and jumped from the top of the mall, sailing over the blocked traffic. Springboarding off a lamppost in the street's center island, he flipped midair and nailed a three-point landing between the cops and the protesters.
Karen's systems immediately identified the make and model of their weapons. [Fortunately they are only using paintball guns. No one's lives are in immediate danger.]
"Hey, guys, maybe pulling out your guns when the police arrived wasn't a great idea!" Spider-man shouted.
"We have a right to a voice!" the leader of the protest projected to everyone assembled. "Monuments to this murderer don't belong on American soil!"
"Citizen, remove yourself from the line of fire!" a policeman ordered.
Spider-Man spun on his heel. "It's just paintballs! No one needs to get shot! AUGH!" he cried out, feeling a pellet nail him in his kidney. Red paint bled from the point of impact. He contorted to face the teen who had shot him. "...Dude?!"
"Shots fired!" an officer yelled.
"It's paint!" Spider-Man yelled back, spinning to face the police once more. "Please don't shoot! I'm fine!"
"Take down the sympathizer!" the group's leader bellowed from the statue.
The hero spun around yet again to face the protesters. "I'm not-" The successive rotations caught up to him, causing him to teeter slightly before he steadied. "Whoa, getting dizzy." With a quick shake of his head, he continued, "I'm not a sympathizer! I fought Cap- wuah!" Spider-Man instinctively jumped straight up as another pellet sailed through the space where his body had just been, its trajectory splattering it on a cop car's windscreen. "Okay, I'm done with this."
As paint pellets began spraying, the hero resorted to frantically leaping around to avoid further impacts. On the umpteenth evasion he faltered on a landing and ended up on his back on the sidewalk. Two webs shot from his wrists at Barclays Center's sculptural overhang, allowing the teen to slingshot himself into the air. Spider-Man arced over the circle of teens and perched on the statue's shield.
"Hiya, buddy," Spider-Man chirped at the leader right below him, shooting a web over the kid's face.
"Ack! What is this stuff? Did it just come out of you?!" came the teen's muffled complaint as he clawed at his face in disgust. He lost his footing in his efforts, though, and slipped off his perch on the statue's thigh.
Spider-Man was quick to act and shot another strand at the guy's chest. He lowered the protester to the ground and, using both shooters, cocooned him to the pavement. Alighting nearby, the hero looked up. His mask's apertures widened to mimic his own surprise as all the teens stampeded toward him. "Oh, crap! Karen, splitter webs!"
Spider-Man crossed his arms in front of him, snagging four protesters at once. He yanked his arms apart, and the quartet collided as he jumped out of the way. The teens collapsed into a haphazard heap from the impact.
More of the hoodie-clad figures rushed him despite their dwindling numbers. Under the pressure of additional paintball fire and a few desperate punches, Spider-Man found himself unable to secure anyone else. Even the four from the initial rush began struggling against each other to break free. The tides soon turned, and Spider-Man found himself increasingly overwhelmed.
Amidst the chaos, Spider-Man flicked his eyes over his shoulder only to see the police staying on the periphery. "Any day you guys wanna jump in would be great!" he shouted. One of the paintball guns clattered to the ground, so the hero was quick to kick it far out of reach.
"Guys!" the hero grunted at his aggressors. "The more you struggle, the more trouble you're gonna have with the cops!"
"Silence, young one! The True Americans have a message to send!" one of the protesters shouted, attempting to punch the hero in his temple. The others mobbed in, trying to grapple the hero into submission.
Peter rolled his eyes beneath the mask. "Don't tell me to shut up! You're barely older than I am!"
"Wait, how old are you?!"
"Cops?!" Spider-Man yelled, fighting against the group's incessant gripping and regripping of his arms. "Anytime now!"
Vacuum.
[Peter, I've just picked up police chatter about wraith sightings in the area.]
A figurative and literal shadow blanketed the plaza. The struggling stopped, and the newly charging police halted in their tracks.
Dapples of light twisted and morphed through twenty swarming beasts as the sun's rays filtered down to the pavement. A hint of a breeze tousled the frozen humans' hair and danced around the plaza. Spider-Man's lenses dilated to mirror his own petrification.
[Shall I activate instant kill?] Karen whispered.
"...N-no?" the hero stammered. "Not yet…"
The protesters began clawing at Spider-Man for an entirely different reason. The hero stood frozen in the face of the emotion-sucking terror all around him.
"Sorry, am I late to the party?"
A black-suited figure dropped down to soundlessly hover above the cowering group, silhouetted amongst the churning shadows. The newcomer shoved a device into his suit's belt before balling his hands into fists and pulling his elbows to his sides. Spider-Man's eyes adjusted enough to make out a faint glowing haze around the figure, and he quickly recognized the halo of white hair and monochromatic hazmat suit.
"Wow, there's a lot more than I expected," Danny Phantom pondered regrettably.
The wraiths sluggishly shifted, teeming over the gathered people. Everyone's stomachs dropped under the weight of overwhelming dread. Phantom's fists lit with green energy, the ectoplasm spidering up his forearms from the strength of the charges. He shot at the first wraith to approach, and it disintegrated instantly. "Huh, that was...way easier than usual…" He released a smaller blast at another beast, and once more it evaporated into stifling, inky smoke. Seeing the easy defeat thawed Peter's paralysis and shifted his mind into gear.
"Hey...these things feed off emotion, right?" Spider-Man asked, firing a web toward a different wraith as it attacked from behind. Upon contact, he activated the shooters' tasers, and the beast spasmed before disappearing.
"Yeah, they're supposed to."
"Well, look at how many there are. Maybe they're weaker when they're all trying to share a power source."
"Like twenty laptops sharing a wifi network!" Twisting to look back at Spider-Man, Phantom caught a glimpse of the statue. "Hey, who spray-painted Captain America?!"
The ghost hero released a steady beam from his hands and spiraled upwards, taking down a dozen wraiths in a single move. Spider-Man activated his taser webs again and electrocuted two more wraiths, the voltage causing them to collapse in on themselves.
[Peter, the police scanner is alerting the officers to more wraiths incoming,] Karen informed.
"Hey, uh, ghost kid?" Spider-Man called out.
Phantom shivered, his breath frosting in front of him. "Hold that thought, I think there's more on the way," he said and whisked higher for a better vantage point.
"That's what I- Okay."
The number of soulless menaces suddenly ballooned, bringing a haze of despair in their wake. The undeterred Phantom locked his arm in front of him and bathed a fist in vivid ectoplasm once more. Bolting through the cloud of wraiths, he plowed through multiple beasts on each pass. Every wraith struck down revealed two more waiting to take its place.
"We need more fire power," Phantom observed and landed next to the other teen hero. "Hey, Spider-Dude, got any energy blasts? Like a...spider venom or something?"
"Just my taser webs."
"Not as effective as outright ecto blasts, but it'll work."
"What, like your oh-so-amazing ones? Cocky much?" Spider-Man sassed.
"In my experience, pure energy attacks work better than physical ones against these things. You gotta overload them. Besides, this *is* my area of expertise, you know." Phantom's smirk was bemused, if a bit sharp.
A mysterious new siren echoed around the plaza, its sound waves inexplicably breaking into the wraiths' massive collective aura.
"Oh, no," Phantom moaned.
Five pearl white SUV's plowed through blocked traffic, newsstands cluttering the sidewalks, and the police cars encircling the original disturbance. After the cacophony of the impacts had assaulted everyone's ears, the fleet drifted to a stop, an army of white-suited men with sunglasses pouring out in a frenzy.
"G.I.W.! Everybody get down!" a number of the newcomers shouted, all of them brandishing metallic weapons with pink-glowing components. "Freeze, Danny Phantom!"
"Wait...me?! You don't think maybe there's a bigger priority here right now?" the ghost protested, waving his arms wildly in the direction of the collection wraiths.
"He really is helping right now, though!" Spider-Man added.
"Phantom is an internationally wanted fugitive for multiple crimes and is the suspected leader of the attacking wraiths," the head G.I.W. officer called out. "They only started showing up in New York when it did!"
Phantom huffed loudly. "I'm not an 'it,'" he mumbled.
Spider-Man glanced over at his compatriot. The ghost's aura distorted his shadows, and his eyes shone with an unnaturally vibrant hatred, but he otherwise appeared to be an indignant teenager. "Technically everything is an 'it,'" the local quipped.
"Hilarious."
The weapons whined to life. Phantom unenthusiastically stuck his hands in the air.
"Look," the ghost murmured out of the corner of his mouth so only Spider-Man could hear. "I'm gonna pull a disappearing act real quick. You mind taking care of all this?"
"Thirty thousand wraiths and two government agencies? Are you kidding me?"
The G.I.W. officers began approaching with deliberate steps. The police officers, eyeing their chance to get closer to the protesters, followed suit.
"Hey, the humans aren't aiming at you, and the wraiths gotta run out of backup eventually," Phantom replied. "I'll try and take out a few more wraiths on my way out. The Dorks in White can probably handle the rest."
"Aren't the ghosts your minions? Can't you just have them follow you?"
"Dude, how many times do I have to tell you!?" Phantom said at a normal volume, making a glowing green dome appear around the pair. "The most they do for me is give me nightmares. I don't have anything to do with them!"
The G.I.W.'s weapons fired on the translucent barrier, the blasts bouncing off and harmlessly striking the Barclays Center overhang. Phantom sunk into the pavement, the shield following his movement. The energy passed harmlessly through Spider-Man but sent a shiver down his spine. The weapons quieted, and everyone assembled looked around for any sign of the departed ghost.
Without warning, Phantom shot out of the asphalt behind the G.I.W. vans and arced upwards through the gaggle of wraiths, both palms releasing ecto blasts to either side upon entry. Maintaining the clotheslining maneuver all the way through, he flared his aura at the heart of the cloud of beasts, the pulse disintegrating the nearest wraiths. As the smoke dissipated, a handful of wraiths remained, but Phantom was gone.
Perturbed by Phantom's successful escape, the G.I.W. quickly busied themselves with taking out their frustration on the leftover pests while the police descended upon the vandals.
Spider-Man hesitantly approached a G.I.W. officer handling some unidentifiable equipment in the back of one of their SUV's. "Um, excuse me, Mr. Agent?"
The agent in question didn't stop his task. "What is it, kid? We're busy, no thanks to you letting Phantom get away."
"I was just wondering why everyone hates him so much? He seems like he's just honestly helping."
"It's not a 'he,' it's an 'it.' Remembering that makes eliminating them a lot easier," the officer corrected. "Phantom has attacked citizens, taken mayors hostage, stolen jewelry, sabotaged advanced tech labs, and terrorized multiple people on countless occasions. The public seems to always forget these small details when they rally around that malevolent ectoplasmic scum that knows how to manipulate people into worshipping it like a god. And to top it all off, he steals credit from the people who are actually fighting the wraiths: us, the G.I.W.!"
Spider-Man frowned.
"Here, if you see Phantom again, call us." The agent produced a business card from his jacket's inner pocket and slammed the rear hatch of the SUV. "Now stay out of our way, kid. We have some wraiths to eliminate."
"Hey I'm just trying to help-!" Seeing the G.I.W. officer speed away removed the wind from the teen hero's sails. "...Too." He sighed and looked at the card simply reading 'Agent K' with a phone number below.
One of the plainclothes police officers noticed the hero and eagerly bounded over. "Oh my god! You're really Spider-Man!" he bubbled.
Pocketing the businesscard, the hero chuckled. "Last time I checked."
"This is so cool. Can I get a selfie with you?"
"Um...sure?"
The officer threw an arm around Spider-Man's shoulders and positively beamed as he took a photo with his phone.
"Thanks so much, man!" the policeman said. "And, hey, thanks for helping diffuse the situation here," he added with a jab of his thumb in the statue's general direction. He turned to stare dramatically into the distance. "These punks don't get to disrespect Cap. Not on my watch."
"At least not without filing for a permit through the E-Apply portal on the mayor's office's website, and paying the $25.50 processing fee," a colleague confidently corrected as she approached. "Good work out there, kid. It takes guts to stand between dozens of armed police officers and a group of thugs."
The lower halves of Spider-Man's lenses raised to reflect the proud smile he sported beneath the mask.
"We can take it from here," said the first officer to have approached. "I know you're a Queens hero—Que- Queenie? Queensian? Queenistani?" he guessed, looking to his partner for assistance.
Both the other officer and Spider-Man shrugged.
"But anyway, we hope to see more of you around Brooklyn too!" the policeman finished with a high-five.
Feeling slightly better about himself, Spider-Man decided to start heading back to Sunnyside. He cast a web, yanking himself into a swing.
Sunnyside — 18:00
When Peter finally made it back to his apartment, he basked in the warmth the late-afternoon sun offered and let his chest swell with pride over a successful day of heroing. He removed his mask and stared contemplatively out the window.
Peter failed to notice, however, his aunt coming in from her room.
"What the fuck?!"
Eyes wide in panic, Peter twisted around. "May!" he screamed.
May glared in slack-jawed confusion. "What—what are you—is that-"
"I'm just, uh…preparing for Halloween?" he fumbled.
"It's not even October!"
"A-almost!" Never having felt so exposed, Peter spied a zippered hoodie and began covering himself. "You can never be too early!"
"Cut the crap, Peter!" May boomed. "Please tell me you're not the Spider-Guy!"
Fumbling to remove his gloves, the boy deflated. "S-spider—Spider-Man…"
"Oh, my god!" The woman leaned against the doorway and pressed her hand to her forehead. "Barely a week after we talked about you being honest with me? You're going out there every night endangering yourself? In spandex?!"
Peter hurried to pull on his discarded jeans, hiding even more of his suit. The short-term, de-escalation strategy of 'Out of sight, out of mind' dominated his thought process. "Well, not really. It's a high-tech poly-"
"I couldn't care less what it's made of! That's not the point!"
"I wanted to tell you, really! But-"
" 'But' nothing! Wait a minute…" May interrupted. Her eyes fell onto the torn paper bag which Happy had delivered. "*This* was the internship, wasn't it?! Oh, I'm gonna kill that Tony Stark! Endangering your life like this-"
"It wasn't because of him! I was already endangering my life way before he figured out my secret ID!" Immediately recognizing the mistake, the exposed teen hero raised his gloveless hand to fend off his words. "Wait, no, that-that's-"
"God damn it, Peter!"
"No, I-" Peter huffed. "I practiced—what I'd say if—I just need a mi-"
"You need a minute? I need a minute!" May cried and paced back and forth. "My nephew—galavanting out there—endangering himself-"
"I've gotten a lot better! I've been practicing and—and can I please just-" he fought the urge to hyperventilate "-I wasn't ready to tell-"
"Do you seriously expect me to let you continue doing this?! What if you get hurt? We can't—we can't afford that!"
"I can't give up being Spider-Man! I- I can't!"
"Like hell you can't!"
"Why won't you support me in this? I'm really good! I'm doing the right thing and protecting our neighborhood!"
"Because I already lost someone who thought he was good enough but it meant NOTHING in the end!"
The room plunged into silence.
As Peter's stomach somersaulted, a knock came from the front door. More knocking urged May to hold up an index finger, wordlessly dictating Peter to wait. The instant the woman left the room, Peter's anxiety skyrocketed and completely took over. The teenager's muscles tensed, and his heart beat wildly. His eyes flicked about the room, unable to settle on anything until landing on the open window. Within seconds his hands were on the sill.
De-transforming as he phased back into his room, Danny plopped down into his desk chair and lazily spun. He powered down the Fenton Finder and set it aside before trying to focus once more on his homework.
"Danny! Can you check the pasta?" Maddie called from the master bedroom.
Danny groaned loudly in frustration. "Sure, Mom!" Danny shouted in response and pushed himself away from his desk, grateful for having returned before he'd been missed.
The teenager padded to the kitchen where a large pot boiled on the stove. Sure enough, the strand of spaghetti he'd taken as a sample was cooked al dente, so Danny put the strainer in the sink and lifted the pot from the cooktop.
The handles' temperature, however, took him by surprise. The metal instantly began to scald Danny's hands; but, before he could replace the container on the burner, an icy sensation overtook him. The alloy became instantly cold to the touch, and before Danny's very eyes, the bubbling water froze solid. A puff of steam exploded in the boy's face before disappearing, revealing the cooked spaghetti suspended within ice.
With jaw agape, Danny glanced from the pasta to the hallway as if he could see through the walls to where his mother was folding laundry in the master suite. He panicked and slammed the pot back onto the lit burner and watched light wisps of condensation swirl around it. Something flickered in Danny's peripheral vision, and he thought he saw blue dancing up his left arm. He rubbed furiously at the glow on his skin but calmed upon noticing the adjacent azure flame which must have cast light from beneath the grate.
"Come on; heat up, heat up!" Danny murmured, cranking the burner to maximum strength. With another curt peek at the hallway, he charged his hands with ectoplasm and held them to the sides of the frozen spaghetti. It showed few signs of accomplishing anything, so Danny released the ectoplasmic charges and looked around the kitchen for ideas.
Spying another large pot in the dish drainer, Danny hurriedly filled it with hot water from the tap before putting it on the burner in the previous saucepan's place. He rubbed his hands together and recentered his footing as he stared down the spaghetti. Danny allowed intangibility to wash over his right hand, gripping the pot's handle with his left. He cautiously plunged it into the ice until it came into contact with the uppermost noodles. Danny expanded the aquamarine power onto the pasta and gently closed his fingers around the strands as they began to free-float within the ice's space. He withdrew his hand and released the intangibility once more as the noodles cleared the top of the formerly boiling water.
Danny wasted no time celebrating the apparent success of his plan, instead dropping the noodles into the fresh pot before plunging back into the ice with growing confidence.
As soon as his arm was elbow-deep in the task, Jazz emerged from her room. She brought a mug to the kitchen sink, casting a disinterested glance at her brother. Once the ceramic clinked against the stainless steel basin, however, she realized something was amiss.
Sensing his sister's lack of movement, Danny stoically looked up at her, left arm reduced to an aquamarine outline of its existence.
"Do I…want to know?" Jazz finally asked.
Her little brother simply shook his head.
With a defeated sigh, Jazz wordlessly spun on her heel and returned to her room.
With all the spaghetti rescued from its chilly prison, Danny relaxed. He leaned against the counter for support, weary from exerting extended ghost powers in human form.
Danny eyed the range, panting. It was only a matter of time until the pasta would reheat; but, there was no disguising the two burn spots now adorning the exterior coating of the first pot.
"How's it going out there?" his mother called.
Danny tensed. "It needs a few more minutes!" he shouted out.
"Ok, thank you!"
The teen hero grabbed the abandoned saucepan and upturned it into the sink, letting the ice plop out of its container. He charged his right hand with ecto energy once more, aimed at the frigid mass, and released a small blast which pulverized it into a scattering of chips. They collapsed in on themselves and pooled in the basin, sure to melt much more quickly now.
Shaking, Danny took a tumbler from the cabinet and filled it with water from the refrigerator's spigot. He lifted it to his lips, but before his left hand could finish raising it, this water had frozen solid as well. The instantaneous freezing of the liquid created a tremendous pressure, shattering the glass. Letting the shards and block of ice clatter to the floor, Danny whipped his hand in front of his face, going cross-eyed as he stared at his palm in bewilderment.
"Danny, are you alright?!" Maddie cried out and came rushing into the kitchen.
Danny looked up, mouth hanging loosely open for the second time in just a few short minutes, and hid his left hand behind his back. "Uh, y-yeah, fine," he said. "Just…slipped from my hand?"
"Is your hand okay? Let me see," Maddie said and hurried over.
"IT'S FINE!" Danny shouted and then corrected himself when his mother recoiled slightly. "Heheh, um, fine, I'm just…shaken, is all." Danny inched around his mother, all the while keeping his left hand out of her line of sight. "I'll…just…be in my room!"
"Don't tell me we have to start buying disposable cups again!" Maddie chided.
Danny strode across the apartment and let his bedroom door slam behind him. He paused in the middle of the room and simply went back to staring at his open palm. Yet his hand remained…his hand. There was no frost nor anything indicative of what had just happened.
*Tap tap tap*
Danny looked up at his rightmost window and squinted in confusion.
A very frazzled Peter Parker looked in on him. "Let me in!" he mouthed.
Danny was too shell-shocked to react.
*Tap tap tap tap tap!*
"Danny!" Peter hissed from behind the glass.
Danny forced himself to move and opened the window. "Peter?" he greeted and looked for a ledge or any other logical explanation of how Peter had been able to cross from his window to Danny's. "What the hell are you doing? We're seven floors up!"
"I—uh—" Peter twisted through the opening and backed away from the window. "Aunt May is freaking out and I needed to slip away. Is—is your hand okay?"
Danny looked down to check that it was still normal. "Um, yeah? Why?"
"You were staring at it pretty hard just now…"
"It's fine; I was just spacing out. What's May freaking out about?"
Peter faltered. "Um…nothing important. I just, uh…wanted to give her some alone time but she worries when I leave." His gaze fell onto the Fenton Finder on Danny's desk.
Danny's eyes widened when he saw where Peter was looking. "S-so your first instinct is to climb out a seventh story window?" he blurted as a distraction.
Peter looked up. "Well, I-"
"Peter?" they heard Aunt May call from afar. "Pete—oh, dammit. Danny! Are you there?"
The refugee plastered himself against the wall next to the window and frantically motioned for Danny to answer. Slightly confused, Danny opened the glass, snatching the Fenton Finder and phasing it into his top drawer while his body was blocking it from Peter's view.
Danny found May leaning out of Peter's bedroom. "What's up, Mrs. Parker?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible.
"Is Peter over there?" May asked.
A peripheral view of Peter's hand gesturing a frantic 'no' at his neck told Danny his answer.
"He's not here," Danny informed.
May scoffed. "Well if you do see him, tell him I get it that he needs space, but I want him home before dinner so we can talk." She called a little more loudly out to the heavens, "Do you understand me, young man?! By dinner!"
Peter squished his eyes shut and released a silent groan.
May retreated from the window but left it open.
Danny turned to face Peter. "So, *Aunt May* is freaking out, huh?" he said and crossed his arms.
"Well…?" An awkward laugh bubbled from Peter's throat. He rubbed his hands together and slowly crossed into the room. "Okay, maybe *I'm*the one freaking out."
"What's going on?" Danny asked while sitting down in his desk chair, absentmindedly massaging his left hand.
Peter plopped down onto Danny's mattress and sighed. "You know how, sometimes, you have a secret that you don't want anyone in the world to know?"
"Better than you'll ever know," Danny replied.
"Well, imagine—imagine if the one person you care about most in the world found out…"
Danny went slightly limp. "Oh, shit…"
"Yeah." Peter ran his hands through his hair. "I was just…not ready for her to know, and based on her reaction, I don't think she was ready either."
"Can you—can you tell me what it is?" Danny asked. "Maybe I can help."
"I really wish I could," Peter croaked. "Oh, God, what am I going to do!"
"Hey, man, I'm sure she'll come around!" Danny encouraged. "Your aunt seems way cooler about stuff than my parents; that's for sure."
"It's just, we're all we've got left, you know?"
"Trust me, I've been there," Danny said. "From my experience, the people that matter most are there for you when it comes down to it, no matter how...wacko things get."
Peter managed a half-smile.
Danny searched from his vantage point for a distraction and landed on the workbook on his desk. "Would helping your tutee with tonight's Spanish homework help you feel better?"
"Taking advantage of your neighbor's weakened defenses? Shameless."
Sunnyside — 19:00
The kitchen was silent when Peter shuffled back into the apartment, devoid of the usual dinner-prep hubbub. The boy froze in the opening from the hallway upon seeing his aunt holding her forehead in her hands at the kitchen table. Peter dropped his gaze, letting a hand nervously rub the back of his neck. He hesitated a moment longer before inching across the kitchen tile and reaching into his pocket. The outed hero plopped down sideways into the chair opposite May and deposited a crumpled $5 bill onto the table.
"Sorry for not paying you back sooner," Peter mumbled.
May looked up at the boy before appraising the money. She took the bill and smoothed it out on the table in front of her. The woman stared at it for a moment before sliding it aside. With a fortifying sip of beer, May dropped her left hand palm-up at the center of the table, an extension of a figurative olive branch.
The quiet teen side-eyed the gesture before allowing his own hand to rest in hers. Their grips entwined, and May fondly caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. Peter wilted further and halfheartedly returned the gesture. After a few moments, May withdrew, and Peter dropped his arm into his lap.
"I think I understand," May finally spoke. "Well, I think I could understand."
Peter looked up with a glimmer of hope in his eye. "You could?"
"Well, yeah," May said in a tone screaming shouldn't-this-be-obvious. "What teenager doesn't dream of—of waking up one day and having superpowers?"
Peter smiled sardonically. "That's not— It's more than that. Uncle Ben always taught me that when you can do stuff other people can't, and doing the stuff would help…you should, you know?"
"Wise words," May agreed with a fond smile. "But something tells me Ben was more eloquent when he said it."
"Heh, yeah, he was." The subtle mirth bled from Peter's face. "I owe it to him, May. I gotta…be better."
"You are better, Pete," May assured. "You have grown so much in the last year. I don't know what I would've done without you."
Peter tried to wipe away his tears. "I don't know what I would've done without you. I mean, without you…I don't have anyone. And to think you're only stuck with me from a marriage."
"Oh, Petey, you should know by now that family's more than blood."
Resolute, Peter finally brought himself to face forward at the table. "I can't stop. I am Spider-Man."
May hesitated before nodding. "…I know," the woman conceded. "I think…being a hero runs in the Parkers' blood. First Ben joining the military, then your parents…and now you. But I can't lose you too. Ben was as good as he could have been and he still-" She huffed. "We'll have to set some ground rules later. Just promise me to be extra careful, okay?"
"I promise," Peter assured.
"Well, now I know why there are footprints all over your ceiling."
Peter snickered despite himself.
"So, what are you, an Avenger now?"
Peter chuckled. "No, actually, Mr. Stark offered, but…I decided to stay local for now. Lower stakes, you know? Well, apart from taking down an illegal weapons dealer."
"You know, I always felt there was something off about the Toomeses. The father was always very hush-hush about his work. I guess now we know why."
"Yeah. Poor Liz..."
"I guess…that's the end of your crush on her?"
Peter frowned. "Well, they're going to Oregon now, so… Besides, how could I deal with not being able to tell her I was busy fighting her dad when I ditched her at the dance?"
"Crashing a plane falls into the not-being-extra-careful category, by the way."
The teen hero smirked.
May looked over at her abandoned dinner prep covering the counter and sighed. "Wanna get pizza? I've got a coupon for Philomena's."
"Sure." As his aunt stood, something occurred to Peter. "Hey, um, what did you mean when you said my parents were heroes?"
May found the coupon with the restaurant's number and picked up the phone.
Peter frowned. "You said…being a hero runs in the Parker blood…"
Without turning around, the woman merely raised the phone to her ear and remained still as a statue. Innocently, she commented, "…Did I?"
This chapter's references and Easter Eggs:
- Tony calling Toomes "Birdman": This is a meta joke. Michael Keaton who played the Vulture—a bird-themed villain—ALSO starred in the 2014 film Birdman which won 4 Oscars.
- Manhattan Correctional Facility: someone didn't kill himself here
- Captain America statue: a real statue celebrating the Brooklyn hero that was, in fact, placed in Prospect Park and then moved to Barclays Center's plaza for the last half of September 2016 (when this chapter takes place) before moving to its current, permanent location in Liberty View Industrial Plaza.
- The $5 bill: a callback to chapter 1 when May loaned Spider-Man $5 to take the girl for ice cream
- Philomena's: a real pizza place around the corner from the Parkers' street address (based on the building used as an exterior for the Homecoming movie) (I love integrating real-world locations for better context, in case you haven't noticed lol)
I love hearing from you guys! Thanks as always for tuning in and I'll catch you at the next update :)