Monday. The worldwide day of getting back to the routine. But how do you go back to normal when an alien sword fell from the sky, merged with your DNA, and now you have a voice in your head that wants to eat people?

Well, you just go back because it's not like you have a choice.

So, I went to Empire State University, located in the heart of Manhattan and one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Who would've thought I'd make it here after arriving in New York as a delinquent who didn't know anyone?

The first class of the day was European Medieval History with Professor Garrett. Not my favorite subject, but as the professor's assistant, it would look pretty bad if I skipped without a reason. Luckily, I didn't run into any trouble on the way. Living off-campus isn't very convenient, but I really prefer having my own space away from others.

The little guy in my head was quiet today too. I need to come up with a better nickname for him—or her, I'm not sure. Symbiotes don't seem to have a concept of gender. He kind of sounds like a guy to me? But maybe that's just because I am one.

When I got to the classroom, the professor was late, yet someone was already there saving me a seat. A fair-skinned woman with shoulder-length blue hair. A black biker jacket framed her slim gymnast figure (she practiced for about 10 years). Her crop top left little to the imagination, and the black combat boots gave weight to her stance. Next to her on the desk was a motorcycle helmet.

"Yo, Benio." She greeted me with her velvety voice.

"Yo, Feh." I replied, sitting next to her.

This is Felicia Hardy. Like me, she studies archaeology, and we've worked together on a few projects. Actually, we met under curious circumstances. The Sanctum Sanctorum needed people to analyze and catalog some ancient artifacts (none of them were magical, just antiques), and we both got recommended. It's not every day you're allowed inside the Sorcerer Supreme's home to peek at what they do. It was a great opportunity, but the work was exhausting. Apparently, the last time someone touched that non-magical collection was in the 18th century, so we had a lot to organize. It took over a month, and we often stayed late together. We got to know each other well since we only had each other for company to stay sane.

We became good friends after that, though neither of us can go near Bleecker Street anymore... Why? Well, it seems that shortly after, they noticed a random book about magic tricks went missing, and they probably still think one of us took it, even if they can't prove it.

"Looks like you had a fun weekend, huh?" Felicia teased.

I froze for a second. What was she talking about? Did she know something? How?

"Uh? What do you mean?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness.

"Your nosy reporter was complaining that you haven't replied to her texts since Friday." She chuckled.

"Oh, crap." With all the alien parasite stuff (I'm not a parasite!) and playing vigilante, I completely forgot to check my phone.

I frantically searched my bag for it, only to find it completely dead. Luckily, Feh had a charger to lend me.

"Giving someone the cold shoulder as a flirting strategy is interesting, but it doesn't suit you, Benio." Felicia smirked.

"It's not that, okay? I just got caught up in a project… And there's no flirting."

"You know you don't have to lie to me, sweetie." She whispered, leaning closer.

Don't be fooled by her manners. Felicia is naturally charming, an unstoppable flirt, but there's nothing between us… at least not anymore, but that's a story for another day.

"And honestly, you two look great together. Go for it, tiger." She gave me a supportive gesture.

"Who's she talking about?" the symbiote asked in my head.

"Do you really need to ask?" I thought back. Thankfully, I don't need to speak aloud for him to hear me, so I don't look crazy.

"I'm trying to be polite and not snoop through your personal memories."

That caught me off guard.

"Wow, thanks. Well, she's talking about…"

"Good morning, class." Professor Garrett announced, arriving to start the lesson.

…

"So, Mr. Bacchi. Do you know anything about this?" Professor Garrett asked. He's the typical middle-aged European man. Well-groomed brown hair, thick mustache and well dressed. And the worst part? He's British.

The class was over, and it was just the two of us in the room. On his desk was the latest edition of the Daily Bugle with the headline: 'Alleged Meteor Crashes and Destroys Part of New York's Historic District'.

"I don't control meteors if that's what you're thinking," I replied sarcastically.

"What?" He looked genuinely confused. "Of course not. I want to know if you saw anything. You were there that night. Authorities only found the crater when they arrived." His accusatory tone was poorly disguised. "I don't think you're the thieving type, but I do remember the Sanctum Sanctorum incident last year…"

"Seriously? You're making accusations now?"

"No need to be so defensive, kid."

Though he's somewhat of a mentor to me, there's plenty of friction between Professor Garrett and me. He doesn't fully trust me, and is a handful for me to deal with.

"I had already left when it happened. I didn't see anything, okay?" I replied, holding back my anger.

Luckily, he didn't push further, and I was able to leave. Still, I was deep in thought. It just hit me that someone might've seen me that night. After all, I have no idea what the symbiote was doing while I was unconscious.

"Hey, are you accusing me now too?" the voice snapped.

"Look, I still don't know how much I can trust you. That night, you had my body for hours without me knowing what was going on."

"I didn't do anything wrong! I was… confused, my senses weren't aligning. I just ran around aimlessly trying to figure out where I was."

"And ended up eating someone."

"I fell into an alley, and the guy was armed. What did you want me to do?"

"Doesn't matter now. I just hope no one saw you."

…

Back to reality, I grabbed my now-charged phone. Among the unread messages, the latest one read: "Meet me this afternoon at Coffee Bean :3". My heart skipped a beat, unsure if it was an invitation or a threat. Either way, I wasn't dumb enough to ignore it.

The place is one block from the university and is the main hangout spot for students. It's a café like any other, and when I walk in, she's already waiting for me, sitting by the window.

Light brown locks, as bright as the day, cascaded down her profile. Her hazel eyes were framed by large round glasses that almost hid the freckles crossing her face and leading to her septum piercing…

"Okay, your heart's beating faster. Who's this?" I heard the voice in my head ask.

This is Gwen Stacy, my only childhood friend and also my first love, even though she doesn't know it. We met as kids back in San Francisco. Since we were both kind of outcasts—her for being a nerd and me because kids were racist—we became best friends. That lasted until the incident that made me move away. Yeah, she knows what happened, but she was never afraid of me like the others. She's the only person, besides my family, who knows what I went through.

When I moved away, we completely lost contact, but by chance, we ended up reconnecting here at the university, and since then, we talk almost every day. Her major is different from mine, so we don't get many chances to meet during classes. Our usual routine is meeting here at Coffee Bean or in the library. She studies journalism and works as a writer for the Daily Bugle. Besides that, she also runs a superhero blog called Super Correspondent, one of the most popular in New York. She's obsessed with superheroes, knows everything about the city's heroes and vigilantes, and is always chasing a big scoop. I won't lie—maybe my idea of becoming a hero has a little to do with her.

When she saw me, she gave me a huge smile and waved frantically. She seemed excited about something.

"You're lucky I have some hot news to tell you, or I'd be scolding you for not answering me all weekend." She hit me with that as soon as I sat down at the table with her.

"I'm really sorry, I got so caught up in a personal project that I completely forgot about my phone."

"Later, I want to know more about this little secret project of yours, got it?" she said, pointing a finger in my face. "But first, I have to tell you—I think I've found my big scoop. I was on this superhero forum on Saturday, and someone posted several photos of a strange figure that showed up in Queens."

Yeah, you can probably guess where this is going, right? When she turned her phone around, I saw photos of us fighting those thugs the other night. How?! It's been less than three days since this all started, and she already knows?! HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? I knew she was a good reporter, but holy crap.

"It's still unclear whether he's a villain or a vigilante, but I'd bet on the first one because of the scary outfit… and because he doesn't seem to mind killing people."

"She's good," my parasite commented oh-so-relevantly.

"I wouldn't be so sure," I nervously responded to her. "We both know the kind of people that exist in this city. A more… lethal approach isn't entirely unjustified."

"Yeah, I know. I should've expected that kind of answer from someone who's a fan of Moon Knight of all heroes." Gwen laughed.

"Come on, he's cool. He's got a badass cape and powers from an Egyptian god. What more could anyone want?" I shot back, laughing too.

"Okay, okay, but if this new guy is a hero, he seriously needs to improve his costume."

"You're right about that." Priority number one on the hero to-do list: change the costume. We also need a name, but that'll have to wait.

"Anyway, if you see him around Queens or hear any rumors, please tell me right away. I'm keeping an eye everywhere—I need a good scoop that'll make Jameson give me a real shot. I'm tired of writing dumb columns about cooking and daily life." She pouted as she complained.

"Just be careful where you poke around, okay? You know this city is dangerous, and I worry about you." I avoided making eye contact as I said it.

"I'm always sharp, don't worry." She replied confidently, but looking away discreetly, and quickly changed the subject. "But hey, I wouldn't even need to do this if you got me that exclusive interview with your celebrity friend."

This time she gave me a pleading look, and I sighed.

"I'll do anything to help you, but you know Harry doesn't like the spotlight, and that's not going to change because of me."

"But you guys are best friends!"

"It's not like that, come on. He's got tons of important celebrity friends. The other day he was having dinner with Sabrina Carpenter."

"And even so, he always reaches out to you, doesn't he?"

Gwen wasn't wrong. Even though we live in very different worlds, Harry and I never lost contact. And yes, I'm talking about that Harry—the son of tycoon Norman Osborn. We studied at the same boarding school during high school and became close friends.

Since he graduated and started working closely with his father, he's pulled back from public life and has been acting a bit shady. From what he's told me, his father is working on some huge secret project.

From there, our conversation drifted into lighter topics for the rest of the afternoon.

When I got back home, I decided it was time to work on my superhero identity—and on a new costume.