Apparently I wrote down July 23rd instead of July 24th for last chapter. My apologies.

In other news, I've completed writing for Act 1. This Arc will take 14 chapters, and I'll likely take a decent break after that to try and get a hefty portion of Act 2 completed.

Cindy's voice was hushed, despite the harshness of her words. "...and what do you do? Get a costume!"

I sighed, continuing to watch her pace around my room. Honestly my costume had completely slipped my mind. I'd gotten the completed outfit a couple days ago and had it resting in its package still. Cindy had wanted to talk to me about one thing or another while I was in the bathroom and ended up snooping through my room (I did the same to her sometimes. We never went through anything private, and it was an easy way to catch up on things the other was up to when we weren't able to talk); by the time I came back to my room she was sitting angrily on my bed with the package conspicuously opened.

"We talked about this, Peter!" She turned to face me, a variety of emotions (mostly disproving) laid bare. "You're still not all that great at your webs, by your own admission, and you don't even have any martial arts practice! Your reflexes might be amazing, but that's not going to eliminate the danger that a gun poses! Or what if your body gets stuck doing some kind of acrobatic dodge and another attack comes your way? What then!?"

I was actually starting to regret that vigilante joke. Over the past two weeks, the sudden rise in crime was starting to become a hot topic everywhere; car jackings, muggings, store robberies; Uncle Ben had even roped Cindy and me into helping him out with a grocery run to stockpile on stuff. The worst part, at least for me, was that apparently a bunch of teens were getting it into their heads to get in on the action. Midtown had to make an announcement the other day that any student found to be involved with any illegal activity regarding current events would be expelled. "How do you think a suit would be cleaned with all its electronics?" I asked suddenly, refocusing on the mask that Cindy was holding out angrily.

"What?"

I flipped my hands upside down, making a ring around my eyes with my pointers and thumbs while my middle fingers went down the side of my face. "Some costumes in comics have electrical systems in them, right? HUDs, waypoints, communication devices, yadda, yadda. You think there's quick release stuff so costumes can be cleaned out or sanitized?"

She stared at me in disbelief for several moments before collapsing into my desk chair with a sigh. "Most heroes tend to be wealthy enough that I'm sure they could just throw money at the problem or have some kind of power or something that lets them bypass that issue. I'm sure they have ways."

"Yeah, but: what if you're just a street level hero?" I kept my hands where they were, staring at her as if what I was doing was completely normal. "What if I had a mask that had electronics on it?"

Cindy flipped my mask inside out, exposing the padded lenses and elastic band to help keep my mask in place without constantly outlining my mouth. "What kind of tech are we talking?"

"AR lenses to help identify certain things, a headset for comms if needed, maybe LEDs on the lenses themselves to mirror expressions I might be making." I moved my hands to the relevant parts of my head as I spoke. "I saw some rave masks the other day and it looked like you could pull the electronics out of a pouch and you could clean the mask that way, but battery packs tend to add bulk to whatever they're attached so, so I was thinking maybe something kind of seamless like wiring going along the mask itself instead of having wiring that I tuck in?"

Cindy put my mask on, humming ambiguously. Our heads being different sizes, it didn't fit her all that well. "Most comic book heroes don't have a full mask like you're planning." She pulled the bottom of my mask up, exposing her mouth. "They tend to be more half masks like a cowl, or domino masks, if not outright not having a mask at all. They'd still be sweating and all, but it wouldn't be as bad as this thing."

"Disinfect daily, baby powder alternative in the joints and high friction areas, and lay dry instead of tumble dry," I rattled off, in regard to maintaining hygiene in such a thing. Baby powder's questionable practices hadn't really hit the public eye yet, but there were still reports here and there about imprecise mining practices and the presence of asbestos and talc commonly existing near each other.

She huffed and leaned back in my chair. "You're really planning on being a vigilante?" She asked after a time.

"Eventually," I answered, slowly making a fist with my left hand. As I curled my fingers, I could feel the silk sacs move slightly, hidden beneath the muscle fibers of my forearm. "I still need to practice with a lot of stuff before I feel comfortable doing anything." Cindy flung a handmade coaster one of her friends made for me last holiday season at me. I caught it between my pointer and middle finger and frowned slightly. "I like this one." Last year I'd been lightly obsessed with the stars. Orion was my favorite one, especially considering its relation to another (fictional) warrior immortalized in the cosmos. "Do not set the pace," I quoted, holding the constellation side towards her. "Race against it."

Cindy flung my mask at me and sagged into my chair. "Another one of your lines you tell yourself while running?"

"Among others."

She spun around to face my desk and fiddled with various things, taking no shame in rifling through my stuff. "So do you even need these things anymore?" She held up my inhaler (still a solid hundred and forty puffs left since last use) and glasses (blue light and a prescription out of date; was gentler on my eyes than a current one, back when I needed them).

"Annoyingly not." I fell back onto my bed, pulling my mask on and off a couple times to try and figure out how to best do so. "Flash was ribbing me the other day for not even needing a puff after the run we took together."

Cindy flung my inhaler in my general direction. As with the last two objects, my hand snapped out and caught it, though this time of my own volition. "So what are you going to tell anyone who asks?"

"Contacts. Puberty. Accidentally figured out a new breathing style."

"Isn't that last one from an anime?" she asked dryly.

"Could be." I smiled underneath my mask, turning my head from side to side to get used to the polycarbonate compound lenses. Wait, was that even the right term for these things?

She sighed once more and stood up. "Just promise me you're not going to go out without letting me know, alright? If things go wrong I'd like to be able to pick you up somehow."

I raised a hand, sticking my thumb out. "Of course."

"Night, Peter."

"Night, Cindy."

Unfortunately, sleep didn't come easily that night. I got lost in my thoughts about future costume practicality as well as conceptualizing various designs. Come morning, I was still distracted by conceiving future designs, but I wasn't so distracted that I completely missed the conversation Cindy and Uncle Ben were having.

"You don't take the bridge into the city, right?"

"I take the tunnel, Uncle Ben."

"Good, good." Uncle Ben turned the page of his newspaper, something he still swore by despite the tablet we got for him two years ago. "Crime's been picking up in Long Island. Muggings, carjackings. Seems like it's random, too. If things keep up, I'd say we're about three hate crimes away from rioting. You remember what I told you about keeping your distance, right?"

"Just like a car, keep enough distance between me and the person ahead of me that I can speed away," Cindy answered, only a tiny hint of annoyance in her voice. "I remember, Uncle Ben."

Uncle Ben grunted ambiguously, letting May retake the conversation floor.

/ - /

As soon as Cindy put her foot on the floor, I leapt off the back, mindful of the exhaust pipe as I quickly secured her spare helmet with its relevant netting. "See you, Cindy." I patted her bike twice, raising my hand in farewell as she accelerated off. Today was a working day for her and apparently it was going to be a long one. A couple projects were going to be running experiments, especially now that the spider that bit me was showing signs of life again, and as an intern (especially for OsCorp) she was meant to help out on as many as she could for experience. Usually someone in her position would be limited to a single section (or general gofer for the scientists), but thanks to her advanced eidetic memory she was able to pick up enough things that everyone wanted the extra pair of hands to help out. Truly, my sister was a superhero.

"Getting a ride on your sister, Parker?"

Normally I would have elbowed Flash for a comment like that, but even two months down the line I still had concerns about my strength. Thankfully I hadn't broken anything important enough that didn't need replacing (though admittedly my savings had taken a bit of a hit regarding doorknobs, shower heads, and faucet handles), but sometimes I still needed a moment to remind myself about proper strength. "That's gross, Flash."

"Oh, come on." He elbowed me. I pressed my tongue against my teeth to keep myself from preemptively flinching away. "It's not like she's your blood—"

"Family is family, Thompson. I really don't appreciate you talking about her like that, especially around me." I nodded my head at MJ as we neared. "Morning, Mary."

She immediately slammed her locker closed. "Eugene Thompson!"

Flash's eyes widened in fear. "Peter, the fuck?!"

I gave him a mock two finger salute, a smug smile on my face. "Godspeed, Flash. Godspeed." The rant MJ gave to him about respecting women and anything else that came to mind brought a pep to my step. I even did a tiny foot clap when I heard a teacher interrupt her scolding.

/ - /

"You're an asshole, Parker," Flash grumbled to me as he sat down.

I reached over and plucked the pickle off his tray, waiting a moment before retracting my hand with prize in tow. "Sometimes you just need a woman's touch," I riposted.

He shot me a glower. "Fine, I won't show you what I was planning."

I took a particularly crunchy bite out of my pickle as I stared at him amusedly. We stared at each other for a couple seconds before he rolled his eyes and slid his phone towards me.

"Hey, Thugs! Screwball coming at 'ya with another video! Today we're gonna be raiding this totes boring bodega out here in Long Island!"

"Was this recent?" There was a part of me that didn't want to watch. Bodegas held a special place in my heart, especially this time around, and knowing I was about to watch someone's livelihood be destroyed was almost enraging.

"Yeah, happened just the other day." Flash smirked as I pushed his phone back towards him, the first handful of bricks having just been thrown, glass of the storefront shattering with an almost musical tinkle. "She's an up and coming content creator. Used to just stream urban exploration but with all the commotion going on over at Long Island, her and some of her followers have been taking advantage of the chaos."

"You're not supporting this, are you?" I didn't look directly at Flash as I took a bite of my actual food. Sure, he did stupid things sometimes (we all did), but directly advocating for looting alongside B&E was a new low.

It took him a moment before he answered. "Well, I mean, not directly. I'm not giving money or anything but I—"

I glanced at him.

Flash grit his teeth and stood up, returning back to his table.

/ - /

It turned out there was a tiny pattern in Screwball's targeting. An old online searching program I made with one of Cindy's friends for their end-of-term project was repurposed for social media posts focused around Long Island, and more than a few customers were talking about how weird it was that teens and young adults were walking about some bodegas. One particularly quick photographer managed to post a handful of blurry images that all seemed to suggest the same person. Said person was rather fond of posting the places they went to, and wouldn't it just be funny if a couple days later (usually on a weekend), the place got smashed?

Cindy wasn't exactly happy with the discovery I made, especially when I expressed my intent to try and stop the raid. She knew she couldn't exactly stop me, and only relented when I brought up she could easily stop by a coffee shop or restaurant somewhere nearby and come pick up me if things went south.

I was rather nervous about things, admittedly. This was going to be a fight (probably). This was going to be my first appearance in the world as Spider-Man. Screwball's Thugs (and wasn't that such an awful name for a fan base?) only ever brought bats, crowbars, and sometimes bricks with them, but even with super strength that didn't mean I wouldn't come away without any bruises if I got hit.

For the third time that night, I reached into a zippered pocket I'd sewn into my pants, double checking that my burner phone (with GPS turned off) was working. Cindy and I had gotten a pair of them and used buyable plans instead of anything with contracts. It was just another drain on my finances, but if it meant my work as Spider-Man couldn't be easily traced to my life as Peter Parker? I instinctively shrunk back as a police cruiser drove past. I doubted they would look up, but from the ground, the silhouette of someone crouched up on a roof would be pretty hard to miss.

Patrols in the Long Island region had increased since last week; it was all over the news and the increased crime activity was starting to influence some of our classes. PE had us do more running, Social Studies were starting to talk about crime related stuff alongside our usual coursework, and during announcements they'd even gone over what to do in case of a robbery.

Stake outs really weren't all that glamorous, I thought to myself, shifting my stance a little. I'd already been here in the evening chill for a solid half hour or so, and not for the first time I was glad I'd decided to use my hodgepodge costume instead of the commissioned one, on account of the outfit I'd ordered definitely being meant for mild weather and not the chill of mid-autumn. The clothes I was currently wearing were definitely more civilian friendly, and it was only the frankenstein'd balaclava-sewn-to-balaclava that separated my outfit from being civilian mode versus vigilante mode. Another car drove past, this time with the kind of urgency that one would expect from being in a relatively dangerous area.

I desperately wished I had my proper phone on me so I could at least distract myself, but it felt like a poor idea, especially this early on. Maybe if I actually decided to get into the whole 'Spider-Man' thing I'd upgrade to a smartphone instead of a dumb phone, but that would probably be a couple months out, as well as having a better costume.

A small convoy of cars drove past, all of them with their lights off. I inched closer to the edge of the roof to get a better view and watched as they split off here and there into open parking spots. One by one the cars opened up, their occupants opening their trunks and pulling out their tools of choice for the evening. Twelve people in total. Two crowbars, four bats, four people with bags of various types, a guy with a headlamp and flashlight, and the lady of the hour: Screwball herself. All of them were much like me and were covering their faces in some way, with Screwball sporting a helmet that I figured was probably for skiing alongside sunglasses and an LED rave mask.

"Show time, Spidey," I muttered to myself, jogging back several steps. My webbing wasn't strong or long enough to safely get me over a street, but a running long jump would definitely help in that regard. I waited for some clouds to block the moon before I leapt, my breath catching in my throat as the street passed underneath me. As I neared the other building, I shot out a web line and yanked myself to safety, forcing myself into a roll the moment I realized I wouldn't be able to land safely.

"Heya, Thugs! Screwball's coming to you live again with another smash and grab! Whoo-whoo!" The eleven others that were with Screwball gave cheers of their own. Frankly it was a wonder no one opened their windows, but considering how late it was they probably wouldn't have woken up until the alarms started blaring. "Tonight we're about to hit up a nasty bodega that refused to give Johnny extra meat on his sandwich!"

"Yeah, I was a paying customer, bro! Bastard didn't wanna give me any extra!" The jeering kicked up once again.

"That's right. And you know how we all think about greedy store owners that don't want to take care of their customers."

Sounded like my cue. Heart racing, I dove off the edge of the roof, landing in a modified three point landing on the street. Sue me, it felt natural. "You know, I don't think they're open this late."

"Woah, check out the costumed lame-o over here." Screwball moved her phone, the newest model that boasted the best cameras, and pointed it firmly at my direction. Despite myself, I couldn't help but give a simple wave. "Hey, bozo, the circus isn't in town until, like, Halloween. Go take your cosplay somewhere else."

"Aw, you think this works as cosplay?" I made a show of examining my clothes. "You know, that's really sweet of you!" Even underneath her sunglasses, I could tell Screwball was rolling her eyes.

"Alright, Thugs. We might not be getting to the main event just yet, but you know what we can get to? A surprise initiation! Yaaaaay!"

Screwball's followers began doing their best to intimidate me, moving closer and loosely circling me.

My heart started racing faster. Time felt like it slowed down, and in a way, maybe it was. Every muscle twitch, every step, every breath; it felt like I was able to take in every single motion around me. Even as I spoke, the hypersensitivity refused to go away. "Hey, guys, just form a nice, orderly line, alright? I promise I'll sign everyone's stuff."

Next chapter will be out August 14th. To those in the states and going back to class, good luck with your studies!