Chapter Text
Queens was the kind of place where chaos and disruption was never unexpected. It was as simple as that. Robberies took place behind every corner. Fights broke out in every school. Arguments shot through every store. Perhaps that’s why Peter had improved so much over the few couple months. Spider-Man was able to practice every night and although most patrols began to feel repetitive and slow, he was grateful that nothing big was terrorising his home. Practice. A strange choice of word to describe his nightly activities. Not because saving people was meant to become an outlined routine but because Peter couldn’t figure out what he was practicing for. A new threat that would soon arise? He couldn’t be sure.
That raised another concern.
Tony Stark.
The billionaire that had become so pivotal in his life a year ago was now a silent figure. Peter ruled the lack of communication to be because, well, he was Tony Stark. There wasn’t much else he could do to gain the man’s attention. Even Happy had shadowed him out after a few back-and-forth texts months after Berlin.
On the other hand, school had been treating well. As well as it could for a fifteen year old, he supposed. Classes didn’t seem to drain him but they didn’t enlighten him either. Just another pattern to add to the others. The best way to describe his life at the moment:
Boring.
Ned brought a lot of joy into it and he appreciated his presence greatly. After his best friend had discovered Peter’s secret identity, hell didn’t break loose. No crash awaited their friendship. Not like how Peter thought it would have. He knew the other boy would be thoroughly freaked out. Who wouldn’t be? You find out your closest friend swings through the city, crawls walls, fights crime and you’re supposed to just sit there and smile? Sometimes it felt selfish. Being so overjoyed that finally someone in his life could hear all the secrets he had been harbouring. That thought never amounted to much and the teen was grateful for it.
There were occasional days wherein all he wanted to do was run up to Aunt May and blurt every event Spider-Man had endured. The sad ones, the adrenaline-rushed ones, the happy ones. Everything. However, that wasn’t possible. It would never be.
Hanging his head low, Peter turned the corner of a passing supermarket and continued down the street. His hands itched in his pockets and he tuned the feeling out by focusing on the music coursing through his ears. He might have kept drifting to Ramones’ Rockaway Beach if the white earbud wire hadn’t tangled itself around his jacket zipper and started twisting itself uncontrollably. No matter how much he tugged, the wire sprang right back. He hadn’t known why he tried, knowing Hooke’s law and all. Reluctantly unplugging the material, he stashed it into the side pocket of his backpack and sighed to himself.
It was a late Tuesday evening after a long day of school and Peter couldn’t wait to be met with the smooth covers of his bed. A small part of him buzzed at the thought of patrolling and he tried to push the feeling down.
He was about to pass a narrow alleyway when a cold sensation washed over the back of his neck. Hairs on his arm shot up from under the rough fabric of his sweater. His head snapped to the alley; his eyes searched for movement in the chaos of trashed rubbish and old worn down furniture. Scanning the passage, Peter’s brow furrowed after finding nothing to be alerted by visually. However the back of his mind flashed red, warning him of danger.
Even if it was most likely not the best point of action to take, Peter inched into the alleyway with his fists clenched on either side of his thighs.
“Hello?” He called hesitantly into the empty space and mentally cursed because no one in the horror films ever gets a response. Biting the inside of his cheek, Peter called out again with a hint of false confidence lacing his words. “Is anyone there?”
Before he could begin to doubt his senses, a quiet clatter sounded in front of him. It felt distant, yet Peter knew this route was soon cut short by a dead end. He swallowed nervously but took a few tentative steps forward. Darkness enveloped him the farther he entered and Peter was overcome by that same flashing feeling calling out to him.
Danger, danger, danger.
A faint hiss whispered through the stagnant air, barely audible over the distant hum of the city. He caught a sharp, acrid scent, like burnt plastic mixed with damp earth, curling around his nostrils.
A near trash bag grazed his leg as he walked and it sent a shiver through his body. Looking down, his eyes widened at the sight that haunted his vision. He hadn’t touched any litter, instead a thin wisp of black smoke slithered along the cracked pavement, twisting and curling like a living shadow. It clung to his ankle, icy cold against his skin through his jeans. His senses flared up as the feeling jolted something within him.
Letting out a surprised noise, he backed away. His mind raced through ideas on what to do but couldn’t seem to zero onto one. He had no idea how to fight a gas. In hindsight, Peter knew it had to be an unnatural force. Magic? It was the only plausible option. The only time he’d encountered magic was in Germany where he had managed to catch glimpses of The Scarlet Witch’s power. Even then, he hadn’t fought her directly and didn’t know much about the abilities she possessed. An idea approached him at the thought of it. The Scarlet Witch had powers. She was the source of them. Like a battery. Surely whatever was controlling the cloud of mist must originate from somewhere?
Peering at the black trails that curled and twisted uncomfortably around near objects, Peter tried to move as slowly as possible. He followed them down the alley as they lay on the ground barely moving. The smoke continued until it disappeared through a few cracks in the right wall of the passage. He groaned in annoyance. It hadn’t seemed to attack him. There was no anger behind its movements. It just seemed to want to crawl. As if it was searching for something. Maybe whatever was controlling it didn’t have malicious intentions. The thought was meant to be reassuring but it hadn’t seemed to calm him in the slightest. Whatever was controlling this — it knew. It had to know that someone would stumble upon the magic on display. They were practically showcasing it. Peter shook his head — overthinking it wasn’t the best strategy. The best thing to do was leave it for now.
Peter spared one look back before leaving the darkness and craned his neck to see what was next to the alley. A large row of apartment complexes blessed his eyes and Peter scowled at the sight. No way of knowing where the origin of the magic begun then. Kissing his teeth, he thought for a moment but decided to head home instead of investigating the situation more although his body longed to explore.
He had to get back to May before she grew concerned for his whereabouts and he could always come back later in his suit with reinforcements instead of fighting whatever was to come bare-handed. He shook off the unease, forcing himself forward, the weight of the night settling quietly as he walked home.