The Spell worked. Too well. A boy who became a man gets the one of a kind second chance to live his life. This is not the end....but the beginning of something more. Up in the sky, look out here comes...Hope
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My Adventures With Superman and Spiderman (MAWS/MCU Crossover)
- Thread starter Re-interest
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Episode One: Adventures of a Normal Human Man plus one
Re-interest
Getting sticky.
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- Jun 25, 2020
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Adventures of a Normal Human Man
_
It was early morning frost on the days around the corner to Christmas that felt the hurrying or sedate ice laden heavy footsteps of New Yorkers as they moved like herd animals minding each way and that. The boy walking down the street in his long overcoat was narrating words reading off a paper he held up. He looked certain yet trepidation underlaced his tone.
The coffee shop, a single point of momentary silence before and after the ringing of the little bell door as it opened and then shut behind the boy. Inside he saw the waitress and customers, he had paper out yet stilled as he looked at her. When she asked for an order like it was a what will you have for breakfast tone he stammered and asked for coffee. She went and brewed like it was nothing. She waved it at him and like a brief ray of hope it was dashed by the ringing of the bell as the stranger approached him, yet a friend to her passed around him to sit at seat.
Like he was just another customer.
The friend looked at his phone, talking about how they have gotten into their preferred universities. They knew each other, yet the boy remembered different details.
Details that were no longer relevant.
He looked at them, silent and watching, waiting for something. A raised eyebrow, a flash of recognition, a sign. But all he saw was the quiet joy of two people going to live great fulfilling lives. That he was not part of it.
"I love you.
"Wait. Wait. You tell me when you see me again."
"I will. I promise."
"You better"
Promise…
"Peter Parker"
"It just feels kinda of different this time for some reason"
"Are you ok?" He referred to the bandaged wound on her brow.
"Doesnt' really hurt anymore"
He stared at her as she packaged his snacks. He wants to stare and hold this light precious forever. But then..
"Was there anything else..?"
"..No"
He still had that note in his hand.
And so he walked away. Alone.
He walked, his head bowed as the light burned. The magic of the universe saw an error and strove to correct it. His tears falling and freezing like ice raindrops on the crumpled withered paper. The words were fading and breaking into nothingness.
This didn't feel like last time. Last time it was like feeling ill, like tumbleweed blowing out. His synapses knew he was dying, his body faint yet it couldn't fight back against the inevitable.
This time.
This time was both worse and better. He did not feel wrong. Only emptiness. Only feeling the time before consciousness began. When there was simply..nothing.
People were continuing as they always have been doing. Going about themselves and avoiding others. They didn't need to avoid him. He was passable. They walked right through him. He was weightless, form losing its structure, like a ghost.
And soon he was wiped from the world without a trace. No boy who became a man. No kid from Queens who fought for them, died for them and paid everything for them.
No Peter Parker.
No Spiderman.
Nothing.
Forgotten.
_
Ba-bump!
Ba-bump!
Red and Blue.
"Mi tenas vin! Mi tenas vin!"
Crying.
"Estas bone, Petro. Estas bone, mi estas ĉi tie kun vi. Por ĉiam."
Warmth. It is very warm.
"Mia koro. Promesu al mi, ke vi trovos min"
"Promesu, ke vi trovos min tiel, kiel mi trovos vin."
"Petro"
The word means Peter.
And in the dark there is only the word that Peter would hold onto even if he didn't remember. A memory that cannot be forgotten. Only buried.
Promesu
Promise.
_
The morning began as it always did in Metropolis. Clouds separating to reveal Blue pastel skies and brisk air on a city that always looks for tomorrow. Birds were chirping, people were smiling and laughing, kids going to school, everyone was getting ready for the day.
BEEP! BEEP!
5:00 AM
Click.
Clark Kent blinked his eyes open as he rolled over his covers to reveal his pink pajamas that his mother brought for him which in his mind is excellent wear and will not hear a bad word about it (last person who tried to..well a stern(not scary at all) look made sure that person relearned his manners)
Seeing the metal switch on top of his alarm clock was something that he felt his friend didn't necessarily have to do. (Insisting on friend! Not just roommate)
"Today is going to be a normal day!"
_
"Today is going to be an excellent day!"
_
"Like normal as in tuesday normal or normal as in I got lost ont road to life and have to explain why my sneakers look like a rhinoceros walked in them"
"I consider it builds character!"
Of course his friend was working on his workbench fiddling tools and making micro incisions in what looks to be like a 90's sci fi miniature workhouse inside the apartment.
Peter Parker chuckles before removing his goggles and work apron as he looks back at Clark, his skinny yet well built form from all the jogs (Peter calls it forced slave labor leg days, Clark just says insistent going about your normal everyday fitness requirements) and moving heavy equipment and the Pilates that Martha Kent insist that Peter and Jon Kent do. Peter had tried to shrug and stutter reasons like overworked and sleeping enough but the sheer trembling lips and growing tears of Mother Kent was something the young man could not refuse lest his soul be damned forever.
Jon and Clark Kent simply patted his shoulder as if to say. Good luck for trying.
Peter just chuckled and got out of his chair, his dusty and slightly singed look gave him the appearance of a well to do mechanic of rush jobs yet having the grace of a scientist in a vivarium splendor.
So Clark got up, went to the bathroom jauntily and made sure not to break the water hose accidentally. "Remember to have the granola bar Mom sent you!"
"I'm an intern. Interns run on coffee and existential dread, not cardiovascular health"
"What was that?" The fact that Peter could hear both the washing and brushing of teeth gnawed at his sense of self.
"Nothing! I'm eating it mmmmh!" Peter mimed eating.
"Don't speak with your mouth full"
Peter sighed, unwrapped Martha Kent's special supplementary bars and chewed it. "Yes mum"
And out comes Clark in sports clothes and in his hand he tossed Peters, which was a lightish red and blue.
"Team Building Exercise is a go!"
_
To jog is to complain. To complain is to jog. When you fake having asthma (experience of past lifetime doesn't leave you even though medical tech helped greatly) you learn to appreciate things like scouting out the cities security grids blind spots, hiding places, which was the quickest zipline, route access, wind resistance, rooftop accessibility. (Somewhere in a dark place a gargoyle figure felt approving for some reason)
Don't forget intentionally stumbling on uneven pavement as running down the bridge trying to imitate huffing and puffing like a wheezing windbag as Clark naturally went at a good running joyful brisk running pace to unnecessarily hide his godlike stamina because no one would think this fit hunk be an alien because hello there is reasonable explanations (They both think the other is being needlessly dramatic about the whole thing but don't pry further because they are respectful of each others private unique hobbies)
Peter pretended to look up in the air at the exact same moment Clark spotted a cat in tree with kite, superspeed gets the cat and goes throughout Metropolis in blink of an eye to see girl putting up missing poster of cat on tree then returning cat and had gone just the same like a blur.
So when Peter nonchalantly looked back to the front of him and see Clark jogging jauntily exclaiming "It's going to be a good normal day!"
Peter said nothing to that. His eyes did. He would deny it.
_
Lois Lane would not deny she liked what she saw when the tall muscled guy with the cute sunglasses and the most earnest smile blush ever be a gentleman turned stutter when he actually looked at her. She would deny the blush on her face all the same.
"Excuse me after..you" His first words to her.
"Oh uh, thanks big guy" Giving him a knock on those big mighty shoulders like a clink. Was he a wall, no he was definitely a metal conveyor belt which she would keep down it. Best get in to get her protein!
So it was her pleasant surprise and (inner girl was chanting hush now) as the big guy awkwardly tried to introduce himself again and the most pleasant introduction of the elderly woman pastry cook who was bringing in brownie points of Clark Kent by putting napkin his chest and telling Lois Lane how he helped around the store, gives him three boxes of donuts (hopefully it's not a dietary concern but by god what that boy do to get that jacked must be worth it) and telling Lois while Clark had the most 'Did my self image just died' that it prevents crumbs from getting on his shirt.
She giggled. Yes she giggled.
"Ah! There you are Peter!" The little old lady after shouting at her husband in the back motioned with her hand behind Lois. Lois had no self realization (her dad would have gently yet firmly reprimanded her for not covering her blind spots) yet the figure behind her had no hostile intent at all. He just seemed..there.
He was 8 inches taller than her, yet seemed to want to appear smaller. Dark Brown hair, Dark brown eyes, expressive face with a build he tried to compress in on himself and appear skinnier than he actually was.
"Oh Ms. Wahlgren, how is the air conditioning doing?" A frank platitude.
"Oh my dear sweet boy it's better than before, I feel just the right amount of coldness for bed. Beauty sleep has never been better!"
"I'm glad to hear it" He said so tentatively like it was just something you do by picking up a grocery bag for the elderly.
"Clark dearie you know the drill" Wait what drill. The giant golden retriever (a correct summation in her perfect journalistic integrity mind) had his hand on the young wallflower(she keeps thinking crawler for some reason) and how he couldn't budge with nervous aggrieved energy.
"You know you don't hav-Wait drill!? What drill"
"Peter" and Lois took special notice of Clark's good natured and scarily (sexy) man voice breaking no tomfoolery. "Wait and until she comes back"
And lo and behold she saw Peter's eyes watered with slight betrayal looking at Clark with forlorn grievance at whatever punishment he was about to receive.
A…container of homemade curry and a photograph of a young woman.
"Here are your nutrients young man and oh gosh I somehow got mixed up with a photo of my young niece's daughter, you know she is in the city right now and she is applying for Metropolis University.."
"You don't say.." Peter drawls and Lois sees the tinges of smirk and chuckle from Clark. Lois chuckled and looked carefully at Peter's relaxed exasperation at this bold old school granny gumption. Lois can respect the game.
Lois can respect the tight cords of repressed secrets.
Speaking of which, she really needed to head out to work. Saying bye to the two young men (Clark which had just forgotten he made a cute gaffe until he remembered, blushed and waved back while Peter had the micro sweep look of Lois and Clark and she could see the bittersweet sadness like a bird who lost its partner and sees its best friend find hers and oh god she will find them again if its the last thing she does!)
_
Apparently its the first thing at work!
"No Lois," Perry dear Perry White sitting in his chair and in the office of the Daily Planet; pinched the bridge of his nose as she assumed was feeling under the weather of her big scoop exposed to find illegal weapons in Metropolis simply sighed "your an intern." Which was his way of shutting her down without a proper counter argument "the only reason I called you in today was to meet them." He points at the two men she met just this morning.
This is not the last thing she will do in her lifetime!
"Hi" said Peter, sitting on the side sofa next to Clark, though with both eyes on her and the blurry photo in his eye space.
"You?" Lois spoke (she will deny she was slightly gleeful) definitely had eyes for the big man who spoke.
"You"
"These are your new interns." Perry said as a matter of fact though she could swear she saw his eye roll. "I want you to show them the ropes and get.."
She was about to regather her energy to pirouette to getting steam back into the engine of Journalistic Investigation when the hooded boy suddenly went straight and came forward to the photos.
"Metropolis Municipal Code, Title 4, Section B,"
"Excuse me?" Perry enunciated as though he saw furniture, got up and spoke in a British accent.
"Any media corporation holding actionable photographic evidence of unregistered, military-grade ordnance operating within a high-density civilian zone has a precise four-hour window to report it to the authorities or publish it under public interest protections,"
Peter explained. His voice didn't waver. That was the scary part Lois thought looking at this seemingly nice boy who seemed allergic to thanks got up, stood erect and spoke with the homing direction of an Ion Cannon (did that work in the movies she completely forgot but it seemed the best comparison.
"If we withhold this..even under the guise of an editorial rejection-" Oh shit he did not just go there "-and those units cause property damage or loss of life, the Daily Planet loses its passive press immunity. We cross the legal threshold into material accessories to gross public endangerment."
You could hear the sound of silence… Simon and Garfunkel. The chirping of a cricket, the pin drop, the water perspiration of heatstroke(its not summer yet) or blood dropping from the roof (why did the image pop up in her head?)
No. Just. Pure. Unadulterated. Terrifying silence.
Lois looked at this guy as though he spoke Sumerian, Clark looked like the sun, the moon and the stars all decided to leap from the cosmos and dance the mambo in front of us all.
And Perry..
"...heh"
Heh?
Perry schooled his face into his stern frown with the slightest twitch in his jawline and the bulging veins correlated in his facial muscle structure. Good god Perry watch some comedy shows or take drugs (not that she would support it) if you haven't laughed in a while! Anything is better than being fired while dying of stroke where rage and giddiness tie a knot in your big weathered slightly overweight heart (she has the sense not to bring it up to anyone but dad)
"Peter Parker was it?" He said it was through the tone of what the weather is today.
And the cute looking intern blinked as though he wondered why he was there in this time and place of existence and remembered he was not acting his reserved quiet tag-along looking self. Yeah you can't fool me thought Lois and then remembered they were about to be..
"Yes sir" He startled a little squark. Well he should feel a little bit fearful considering the absolute shit they were all in..
"Are you a good photographer?" Peter looked at his chest with the old fashioned and cobbled together in a nice antique way.
Now Lois is an experienced historian of reporting, one of the things covered in esoteric study is the tools of the trade. Particularly the classics.
And this kid has a bona fide mother fricking 1950s ARGUS-C3.
"I like to think I'm decent sir" Humble after the sheer evisceration of the boss rigidity.
"Decent is the first step to mediocrity or professional" Not sure that works Chief "Its a matter of choice and responsibility"
Why did that look like it hit her soon to be adorable little helper like a javelin in the heart. Why did her soon to be big handsome helper look like he wanted to put little helper in blanket?
"Lane." Perry said in firm command.
"Yes!" She hoped her outburst was not too loud. She was miliary trained for Pete's sake.
"Go investigate"
…invesitage…?
"..The weapons.." She was breathing normally right?
"Find out where they are, call the police" He pointed at her and the two. "Take these interns with you, no reporting and" He raised a finger and spoke with calm serious care "If one man so much as shifts his gun in your direction. You run. No heroics. No big scoop. Just do your civic duty."
"Yes sir! Right away you won't regret this" Was she speaking fast paced.
"Lane!" A bit loud and it does its job. She stopped. Perry motioned to the side.
"Introduce yourselves"
"Oh.." That tracks. She turned to the two men who had donuts out and were placed on desk while she was having existential meltdown and up down (is that a proper word? It should be a word)
She extended her hand "Lois Lane"
The first to grasp her hand was like a warm boulder on her little mittens (stop it face don't give yourself away!)
"Clark Kent" The glasses. The glasses are a shield into a blue eye soul wait a minute. The glasses are a lie!?
He let go of her hand while she treasured the warmth. She does not believe in not washing hands(kissing cheek etc) as that's unhygienic but she will make sure to hold hands again (she will push those other thoughts down he is an intern!)
Then the other hand came up and she felt she was the one giving warmth in little cold sturdy rough callused and somehow soft tendered yet firm hands at the same time. Like she wanted to rub her thumb over to care for a child.
"Peter Parker"
"Now that you have been introduced please get the hell out of my office"
They were out faster than a speeding bullet.
_
So first order of business.
"Great Scott what was that!?" Her hands were shaking the completely shocked and scared 18 year old kohai (yes she will call him kohai because even though she is half Korean she is a woman of culture) "You just got up, whipped out an entire legal crash course torpedo and sank Perry White! What have they been teaching you in.."
"Middle School.."
"Nah!" She patted his shoulders good naturedly as he fitted his clothes tightly as though she didn't feel the strong sturdy form buried in the jacket of both physical and mental pretend meekness. "No teenager watches that amount of Law and Order and not make a total ass oh himself using TV knowledge."
"I just said middle school and I just…read a lot ok?"
"Peter…" A voice said behind him in wonder and care as his eyes looked at his smaller companion as though he discovered baby learned to walk. (Oh that is so sweet!) "You didn't tell me you scored an A+ on Law Studies"
Peter just sighed and waved his hands away.
"Look I.. I had a lot of time to myself and I wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing when I got this job"
This Job..
Lois could discern a lot from that statement and phrase alone. Perry would have given her a heads up if the intern had unfortunate law troubles, the kid absolutely had no feel of a criminal thanks to her unorthodox childhood training as she could see the weight behind those frankly too young to be tired soul eyes.
The best thing would be to..
"Alright then!" She grabbed both of these soon to be christened knuckleheads, Clark was blushing and she loved how much power she was having over him at this moment while Peter squawked at this infringement on his cool mysterious stranger vibe she was not buying at all. "Interns! (Ignoring she was an intern) We have a rendezvous with destiny! So. Lets. Go!"
_
"My Grandfather used an Argus, weighs like a boat anchor and your stringing it around your neck like a throwaway pendant"
"It's a modified C3," Peter tried a conciliatory tone to throw off Lois' perceptive gaze, his eye still pressed to the rangefinder as he tracked a guard walking past a crate of high-tech exo-suits. Snap. "I built it out of parts I found in the trash and a thrift shop downtown. The original shutter was shot."
Lois reached out, her fingers brushing the cold, hand-polished metal of the lens casing. She noticed the flawless, unnatural clarity of the glass and the absolute fluid smoothness of the focus ring. Her eyes went wide as the journalistic gears in her head instantly shifted into entrepreneurial disbelief.
"You made this? Out of scrap?" Lois whispered, her voice cracking with a mix of awe and sheer capitalist shock. "Parker, are you out of your mind? You could make a hell of a lot of money selling what you made from scrap! Do you have any idea how much this could sell for in an antique shop?!"
Peter offered a faint, tired smile, his thumb winding the manual film advance lever—which he had rigged to actually compress a micro-generator to keep the internal battery charged. "Probably a couple hundred bucks to a hipster in Suicide Slum, Lois."
"A couple hundred?!" Lois grabbed his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "Try thousands! The vintage collectors in the Tomorrow District would alienate their own families for a fully functioning, custom-optics mid-century rangefinder that handles low light like a military night-vision scope! You're sitting on a goldmine, and you're using it to take photos of illegal weapons for intern wages!"
From a few feet away, Clark let out a soft, nervous chuckle, keeping his eyes on the warehouse door. "I think it's nice, Lois. It has... character. Just like Peter."
"It doesn't have character, Kent, it has a profit margin!" Lois shot back, though she couldn't help but look at Peter with a brand new layer of fierce respect. "The second we bust this story wide open, Parker, you and I are talking about a patent."
Peter just kept his eyes on the target, his grip steady on the camera. He didn't want a patent. He didn't want the money, or the fame, or his name in a registry database that a corrupt government agency like Damage Control could track. He just wanted a tool that worked, (a....roommate he could trust,) and a chance to do some good from the shadows.
Snap.
_
Clark Kent had a lot of things on mind that happened today. New morning, new chance to be normal, new ways of acting out ordinary life like getting to work at the Daily Planet, helping his gifted roommate no FRIEND! Emphasis on Friends because Peter Parker needs more than two and two halves. Nice delightful jog where he pretended to slow down for his very (unconvincing poor) cardiovascular friend who might be a bit paranoid.
Then he found a missing cat, then they stopped by the donut shop to get stuff for new bosses because its always great to have favorable impressions on future employees.
Then he found her.
Lois.
Beautiful
Full of life.
And insanely reckless.
Which is why he is besotted by her as they don't simply observe from a reasonable distance from docks but are actually in direct vicinity of shipping containers and one yard distance from mercs with guns.
"Why are we here?" Clark asked softly.
"Not the time for rooster teeth Kent" Spoke Peter softly photographing which begs the question when he stooped back from angle at unnerving right time before being spotted.
"Oh your not just a savant your a fellow person of culture" Lois said pointedly while hugging the shadows next to Clark in her awesome coat and snug little frame bracing him.
"Not sure now is the time for obscure pop culture reference Lois"
The short woman looked up at Clark's face as though he said he didn't believe the moon orbits the earth "Did they not have internet in Smallville"
Peter's shoulders shifted a little, that was a muffled laugh and Clark considered it a win and yet now is not the time for celebrating small wins!
"I…stopped looking at internet for entertainment when I discovered OnlyFans"
…
Why did he say that out loud?
"...A completely reasonable answer" She put her hands on his shoulders to massage them, Peter gave him a very sympathetic look. "I'll help you in healing your trauma after we bust this wide open"
"Guys…"
"Followed by showing you quality entertainment mixed with critique of your budding journalistic chops."
"Guys…"
"And you will teach me the…fundamentals of small town journalism ethics."
"Why that is.." He was about to segue into something profound before his super ears picked up whirring and being tugged by Peter.
"The robots are waking up!"
_
Peter had a lot of things on his mind today. A lot of buried things that he thought would just be free floating into the top of ethereal mental skimming on the water pool that was his calm aqua spirit.
(MJ and Mr. Stark would've given him so much shit if they read that in writing PUSH IT DOWN!)
He got up, started working on his bench while his sleepy secret metahuman roommate (he cannot think friend because he knows he cannot have them) fix up neighbours appliances, make sure the kids have their english courses are fine tuned, politely refusing esplanades no matter how good they smell or taste (or that they keep finding themselves on his table by a smiling too good for his own good roommate that he is forced to eat and enjoy by his nuclear puppy eyes) how Peter is perfectly fine and (not constantly checking Flamebirds constant tweeting of adventures that somehow he didn't ignore or that they keep getting into his main page despite all reason Whistling by Victor Stone raises suspicion)
He was a New Yorker (that..exist here but…somehow far away and..not the same) so he knows the rough and tumble of trying to eke out a living (if much better due to unnecessary thank yous from overly-friendly people) and knows how to take care of himself (the sure you are look nod by Clark not helping) and he wanted to succeed in his new internship because its a path to a good job.
(The suit he finished months ago was still hanging in rafters. Just…there)
His new superior (is that the right word or is it..senpai, the anime-like feel of this universe is disturbingly comfortable, why is it so comfortable the physically impossible beautiful angles and colors are driving him insane!) needed help and his instinct to help caused him to open mouth and insert foot. Instead of being tossed out which he was sure his new (maybe) boss would've done just gave him a nod of approval and respect. Give them the go ahead.
(He would never be blindsided again by the bullshit that went down in previous life!) He had years of self reflection and curious nature to learn those particular idioms of civil structure and law.
So when he goes along with two clearly lovestruck birds that made him feel like a third wheel (Sure you are kid, a voice somewhere in the afterlife spoke) to photograph mercenaries with robots in a docking yard he thought it'll be an in and out situation.
Then Parker Luck found them and in the darkness bind them!
And the jumping, and the moving and the screaming, and the skirting and the dodging and the rolling and moving to the grooving (play that funky music white boy!) that Clark swerved right.
"I'll distract it!"
"Clark don't!" Peter hadn't realized he said the exact same pitch and tone as Lois. His hearing was feeling the echoes of vibration of the soft silvery metal touches on the ground by sharp pincer legs. Red fire, blast of energy, smoke and debris.
Snap!
Peter couldn't help but take a photo. Every shot count, every shot needed and everything must be recorded. Even when they are dying for their lives. No wait! Trying not to die for their lives.
Was it always this crazy?
Then a red light veered on his periphery..heartbeat going faster..
TING! Says an itch
It was ringing slightly, growing in pitch as the blast took off the upholstered crate chain connecting a 8,2000 lbs of empty metal death weight upon the two.
Buzzing! Electric
Hair raised. Adrenaline.
She is in front of him. It's not for her, it's for him.
He pushes her out of the way so she doesn't see.
WHAM!
"PETER!"
His body had hit the side.
Breathing..slowed..so blurry…so..
Darkness.
_
….
Ba-thump
"Leviĝu Spando"
That voice…
Ba-thump.
"Ili bezonas vin"
Ba-thump!
Red and Blue.
Heartbeat returning to normal.
Lights coming back on.
"Ni bezonas vin. Mi bezonas vin."
He remembers her voice. He remembers responsibility.
"Mi bezonas vin, Petro."
Peter Parker's eyes open.
_
Lois swore she would wring the neck of the jackass who pushed the button to activate the robot. Fear was replaced by rage as the machine walked forward until it was blindsided by a tall broad shouldered man in a workman's hoodie.
That was flying.
Oh my god he was flying.
A man was flying in the air and punched out a robot.
Adrenaline made her short circuit as she understood the implications of what she just saw as the robot seemed to be down for the count. Flying guy was looking over the area in order to check something really hard and looked from physical posture really fricken worried.
So of course she'd be worried if the super strong flying man is himself worried until he notices more lights going on.
Oh great, more robots! Who pushed the button this time
Somewhere not too far away the mercenary known as Livewire felt as though she received a slap to the face she was sure she deserved.
Flying man flew forth to the main area where the robots were powering up, he moved like lightning, warp step no speed step. Like..
Faster than a speeding bullet.
Punches, as if trying to measure the correct amount of strength that varied for situation. Lois can't help but be there as she had followed in awe until realizing her photographer wasn't there..
Oh god where is..
THWIP!
THWIP!
Two soaring piledriving sticky looking fluid things came out of nowhere to web robots together until a coated figure in a red ski looking mask came in twisting like a spin kick (spin kick. Really?) through the red plates of the mechs.
"Hey Big Guy!"
Wow that voice seemed British (aforementioned figure felt a little sniffle for some reason)
"Don't worry about holding back! Just lean into it" Like a Spider-Monkey (aforementioned figure felt like embarrassment) he shot. Webs at legs and crawled on one before leaping from blast that took out the one he was on (So the robots are less intelligent than Stormtroopers great design) "Like trying to pee your own pants!"
"What?" Spoke the Flying Man in what she assumed was a serious voice that sounded familiar to her.
"Just Punch them!" Spider-Monkey did a cool somersault before the other robots decided to get smarter and group shoot them.
Right focus time Lois, leave the weird brotherly and strangely cute banter of superbeings in the fight! They need professional help and what she could see.
"There has to be a control panel for these things!"
Good advice! Now she could see the stairs leading up to containment areas and particular green buttons. Those are good signs.
Sprint, keep pace and dodge the fight!"
SLAM!
BAM!
Flying Man fell down! Spider Monkey was working overtime as he over-focused on the one in front of him. He seemed to be spinning and jumping, keeping conservative stock of himself as though..he was realising he had jumped into a situation he was not ready for..
Lois had already went up stairs, oh look! buttons. Time to smash.
ONE!
One powered down.
TWO!
Another!
THREE!
The remaining two suddenly pivoted past their fallen comrade and marched on her, why did these giant smooth tin cans choose now to have a brain.
And the man in the hood, she could somewhat see a bruised eye and she could almost hear the words.
"Lois!"
And like a miracle. Blue energy like that of a super Saiyan blue(yes Super had problems but it still counts!) and like a bolt of beautiful aqua lightning he zapped forward to deliver a flying thunder punch to one red chassis.
While the other was kicked through by Monkey Spider going through it like a reverse baby Xenomorph! (Ok bad example but it was the first thing to come to mind)
Flying man was on the ground trying to balance himself in humble feet apart and arms circular while Spider-mon..no the Human Spider moved his legs in a sweep like doing acrobatics with his head tilted upwards, his hand centering himself with his right hand pushing against the wind.
What kind of landing was that!?
Just like she would be inhaling her morning coffee she zoomied down the stairs with a notebook and pen at the exact moment the Spider guy webbed off and Flying Man was about to leave.
"No! Stop! Wait!"
Flying Man paused briefly as though he didn't want to leave. He flew anyway.
"I..just want to know if…"
"Lois!"
She turned to the side and outside of the wreckage was Clark! In his sweater and rumpled self and glasses and..
She threw her arms around him and held him tight!
"CLARK!" She cried out. "We have to find Peter! We have to.."
Snap!
"I'm here!"
From around the destroyed robot she heard her kohai taking photos of that one busted up mech, rumpled with his hair tousled and dirty and scratches. He looked as though he had only been dirtied by a dust storm rather than hit by a storage container.
"I've got the photos Ms Lane It's!"
_
He was enveloped in the most suffocating warmth protecting him. It felt like..Mr.Stark, the last time…
"Oh god! Oh god your safe" She cried on his shoulder, her arms tightening around his shoulders as though he was a cuddle bear who was found by his owner. Or rather something small and fragile like that of a mother to a child.
He felt…bad for some reason.
"Its ok. It was just a scratch, what's important is that your ok"
"..."
Why was his spider sense tingling and Clark's happy and relieved face was turning into worried concern.
"...Ok?"
Peter had to look down at the fierce looking glaring eyed small woman pinning him like a boa constrictor on an unsuspecting chump.
"Do you have…any idea…"
WARNING! WARNING!
"What you put me through!"
Peter tried to put his hands up as the frankly scary look of doom that was in his circle of security. That had already passed the five levels and into the prize of Peter's dignity and self shame.
Her grip tightened and why was she so strong!?
"You better have good pictures Parker or so help me I will perform a colonsypo with your Ar"
"Ahem!" Thank god for the lucky fool who tries to tame this beast Peter thinks. Lois turned to Clark who was looking serious and didn't look at all scared (Peter could see the slightest crinkle of worry that Clark's eyes held) "It's been a long day…so why don't we skedaddle and pick up some smores for Perry"
…
"PFTFTTFFFT HAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
"Skeddadle! You are way too young to be a dad Kent!" Lois hollered and slapped her knees.
"Smores! Hah you said that with a straight face! It's the city of Metropolis Clark! where we get donuts! It's not even Winter!" Peter snickered and just waved his hands as though he was embarrassed to be in the same room as him.
Clark blushed and looked a little petulant before joining in the laughter and getting them into a bear hug.
"I'm just glad," He said slowly. His warmth felt like a blanket you never wanted to get out of "That your both ok"
Lois had her arms around her two boys. Her two crazy (she is the sane one!) precocious innocent boys.
"We did it! We got the-"
"Don't jinx it!" Peter yelled before alarms came by and they really had to get the heck out of dodge.
_
"You've got something" Spoke Perry White flatly, steeping his fingers like Gendo Ikari.
"Wait wait," Lois waved her hands back and forth without her coat. Peter and Clark behind her standing at parade attention. "We didn't jinx it" She looked to her right back at Peter who shrugged.
"You didn't. Jinx anything" Perry said. "You simply broke my ruling on direct action" Perry sighed and looked forlornly at them "You went ahead and got up close and personal"
"But Chief we" Lois tried to explain but he waved a hand.
"Lois. Peter got hurt" The boy from Queens (she pegged him from Queens) "The only reason I'm not assigning to permanent coffee duty is because in spite of the danger you knowingly" With this he gave a terse look at her which made her be quiet "Put these interns through they went above and beyond their duty in doing a job well"
Perry waved a hand on his desk on the collected photos. All clear, all present. All there.
"These are the photos of a professional followed by an enthusiastic written display of Journalism even if its on the fly which someone gifted" Giving Peter side eyed who wilted a little "Proofread legal and journalistic laws and a good proofreader," Staring at Clark who gave embarrassed scratch on head. "On words and sentences that I might, might forget that little kerfuffle on flouting my very clear and precise warning" He breathed in, and out.
"Above all good job"
Lois Lane blinked.
"Really?" She said in wonder and awe.
"Yes. Now get out of my office!"
SLAM!
So in the hallway Lois Lane jumped in the air and squealed and hugged her two men in neck hold.
"You hear that! We did it! We bust the story open! We!"
Then things caught up in her head and did a screeching stop. Peter looked worried while Clark was blushing at closeness.
"..Did he say anything about publishing or promoting us?"
Peter wisely chose not to sigh in relief.
"CHIEF!"
"TOMMOROW LANE!"
"TOMMOROW CAN"T COME SOON ENOUGH!"
Louis was just too good in a mood and slapped the backs of Clark and Peter.
"I'll tell you interns, Lois Clark and Peter are going to be the next best thing in Journalism since Nellie Bly, Walter Duranty and Eddie Adams! We are going to the top!" She cradled them and by god how was she so strong!
"It is a brand new day everyone! So let's move!"
For Clark it was as true as the sun coming up.
For Lois it was just a natural vibe.
For Peter…felt a little a nice about it.
"Start working tomorrow" Peter opined.
"Oh yeah!" Lois grinned and they couldn't help but share in the joy.
_
It was the afternoon. High up in the air, the sunny sky. Blue overcast about to blur into purple dark. Clark Kent spoke aloud.
"Who am I?"
In the apartment Peter looked at his mask, looked at the photos on Camera, the ones of high definition showing two strangers holding a secret from each other, two people who save others with the world on their shoulders. Two disguised men.
Peter Parker with his Web shooter still attached to his wrist, had his thumb over the red button 'DELETE'.
"I remember who I am".
Spiderman softly whispered.
_
Inspired by this, as well as liking MCU Spiderman and I'm a sucker because Spiderman to me is like the ultimate hero hamstringed by maleovolant comic writers and editors thus like all people who admire him want him to be happy.
This will not bash Jimmy Olsen, yes I know that he has fumbled but he is having his own adventures outside Superman and is a friend of Clark and Peter(though Peter will try to deny it mentally as much as he could). I love the version of Supergirl from this show. She has so much chemistry with MCU Peter and frankly they work so well together. It'll take a while to get there because we are still in Season One. The kryptonise from show can be translated using AI so it adds a layer of beauty to Peter trying to figure out who that voice was.
I don't exactly read comics but I love anime.
Brand New Day was a good fun film, but after thinking things through...look Jean Grey never apologised for the horrible things she did or try to make amends. I don't have much care for the Marvel Movie directors and what they think what anti-heroes/villains actually is or stuff and honestly...it's just not worth complaining about since it's already out there. I just want to make a story where heroes are heroes and villains are villains. Don't expect great fight scenes or what not, as you can see I've probably fudged up the humor and pacing as I am an amaetur and I will freely admit it. If someone is inspired to write more fanfics on this wonderful show thats awesome.
Sadly due to where I live I cannot watch Season 3 yet because of some bullshit legal technicalities that I can't make heads or tails of and I don't know if it would ever come.
I will endeavor however to read the recent Comic crossover with Spiderman and Superman.
I love the show and MCU (before it turned into moral quagmire) I just want to get this out because it won't leave me. I want to write something beutiful and fulfill catharsis.
I have no idea of how to make or ask someone to make art of this. Maybe after a few more chapters.
I hope this turns out well and I hope I will finish it.
Till next time.
_
It was early morning frost on the days around the corner to Christmas that felt the hurrying or sedate ice laden heavy footsteps of New Yorkers as they moved like herd animals minding each way and that. The boy walking down the street in his long overcoat was narrating words reading off a paper he held up. He looked certain yet trepidation underlaced his tone.
The coffee shop, a single point of momentary silence before and after the ringing of the little bell door as it opened and then shut behind the boy. Inside he saw the waitress and customers, he had paper out yet stilled as he looked at her. When she asked for an order like it was a what will you have for breakfast tone he stammered and asked for coffee. She went and brewed like it was nothing. She waved it at him and like a brief ray of hope it was dashed by the ringing of the bell as the stranger approached him, yet a friend to her passed around him to sit at seat.
Like he was just another customer.
The friend looked at his phone, talking about how they have gotten into their preferred universities. They knew each other, yet the boy remembered different details.
Details that were no longer relevant.
He looked at them, silent and watching, waiting for something. A raised eyebrow, a flash of recognition, a sign. But all he saw was the quiet joy of two people going to live great fulfilling lives. That he was not part of it.
"I love you.
"Wait. Wait. You tell me when you see me again."
"I will. I promise."
"You better"
Promise…
"Peter Parker"
"It just feels kinda of different this time for some reason"
"Are you ok?" He referred to the bandaged wound on her brow.
"Doesnt' really hurt anymore"
He stared at her as she packaged his snacks. He wants to stare and hold this light precious forever. But then..
"Was there anything else..?"
"..No"
He still had that note in his hand.
And so he walked away. Alone.
He walked, his head bowed as the light burned. The magic of the universe saw an error and strove to correct it. His tears falling and freezing like ice raindrops on the crumpled withered paper. The words were fading and breaking into nothingness.
This didn't feel like last time. Last time it was like feeling ill, like tumbleweed blowing out. His synapses knew he was dying, his body faint yet it couldn't fight back against the inevitable.
This time.
This time was both worse and better. He did not feel wrong. Only emptiness. Only feeling the time before consciousness began. When there was simply..nothing.
People were continuing as they always have been doing. Going about themselves and avoiding others. They didn't need to avoid him. He was passable. They walked right through him. He was weightless, form losing its structure, like a ghost.
And soon he was wiped from the world without a trace. No boy who became a man. No kid from Queens who fought for them, died for them and paid everything for them.
No Peter Parker.
No Spiderman.
Nothing.
Forgotten.
_
Ba-bump!
Ba-bump!
Red and Blue.
"Mi tenas vin! Mi tenas vin!"
Crying.
"Estas bone, Petro. Estas bone, mi estas ĉi tie kun vi. Por ĉiam."
Warmth. It is very warm.
"Mia koro. Promesu al mi, ke vi trovos min"
"Promesu, ke vi trovos min tiel, kiel mi trovos vin."
"Petro"
The word means Peter.
And in the dark there is only the word that Peter would hold onto even if he didn't remember. A memory that cannot be forgotten. Only buried.
Promesu
Promise.
_
The morning began as it always did in Metropolis. Clouds separating to reveal Blue pastel skies and brisk air on a city that always looks for tomorrow. Birds were chirping, people were smiling and laughing, kids going to school, everyone was getting ready for the day.
BEEP! BEEP!
5:00 AM
Click.
Clark Kent blinked his eyes open as he rolled over his covers to reveal his pink pajamas that his mother brought for him which in his mind is excellent wear and will not hear a bad word about it (last person who tried to..well a stern(not scary at all) look made sure that person relearned his manners)
Seeing the metal switch on top of his alarm clock was something that he felt his friend didn't necessarily have to do. (Insisting on friend! Not just roommate)
"Today is going to be a normal day!"
_
"Today is going to be an excellent day!"
_
"Like normal as in tuesday normal or normal as in I got lost ont road to life and have to explain why my sneakers look like a rhinoceros walked in them"
"I consider it builds character!"
Of course his friend was working on his workbench fiddling tools and making micro incisions in what looks to be like a 90's sci fi miniature workhouse inside the apartment.
Peter Parker chuckles before removing his goggles and work apron as he looks back at Clark, his skinny yet well built form from all the jogs (Peter calls it forced slave labor leg days, Clark just says insistent going about your normal everyday fitness requirements) and moving heavy equipment and the Pilates that Martha Kent insist that Peter and Jon Kent do. Peter had tried to shrug and stutter reasons like overworked and sleeping enough but the sheer trembling lips and growing tears of Mother Kent was something the young man could not refuse lest his soul be damned forever.
Jon and Clark Kent simply patted his shoulder as if to say. Good luck for trying.
Peter just chuckled and got out of his chair, his dusty and slightly singed look gave him the appearance of a well to do mechanic of rush jobs yet having the grace of a scientist in a vivarium splendor.
So Clark got up, went to the bathroom jauntily and made sure not to break the water hose accidentally. "Remember to have the granola bar Mom sent you!"
"I'm an intern. Interns run on coffee and existential dread, not cardiovascular health"
"What was that?" The fact that Peter could hear both the washing and brushing of teeth gnawed at his sense of self.
"Nothing! I'm eating it mmmmh!" Peter mimed eating.
"Don't speak with your mouth full"
Peter sighed, unwrapped Martha Kent's special supplementary bars and chewed it. "Yes mum"
And out comes Clark in sports clothes and in his hand he tossed Peters, which was a lightish red and blue.
"Team Building Exercise is a go!"
_
To jog is to complain. To complain is to jog. When you fake having asthma (experience of past lifetime doesn't leave you even though medical tech helped greatly) you learn to appreciate things like scouting out the cities security grids blind spots, hiding places, which was the quickest zipline, route access, wind resistance, rooftop accessibility. (Somewhere in a dark place a gargoyle figure felt approving for some reason)
Don't forget intentionally stumbling on uneven pavement as running down the bridge trying to imitate huffing and puffing like a wheezing windbag as Clark naturally went at a good running joyful brisk running pace to unnecessarily hide his godlike stamina because no one would think this fit hunk be an alien because hello there is reasonable explanations (They both think the other is being needlessly dramatic about the whole thing but don't pry further because they are respectful of each others private unique hobbies)
Peter pretended to look up in the air at the exact same moment Clark spotted a cat in tree with kite, superspeed gets the cat and goes throughout Metropolis in blink of an eye to see girl putting up missing poster of cat on tree then returning cat and had gone just the same like a blur.
So when Peter nonchalantly looked back to the front of him and see Clark jogging jauntily exclaiming "It's going to be a good normal day!"
Peter said nothing to that. His eyes did. He would deny it.
_
Lois Lane would not deny she liked what she saw when the tall muscled guy with the cute sunglasses and the most earnest smile blush ever be a gentleman turned stutter when he actually looked at her. She would deny the blush on her face all the same.
"Excuse me after..you" His first words to her.
"Oh uh, thanks big guy" Giving him a knock on those big mighty shoulders like a clink. Was he a wall, no he was definitely a metal conveyor belt which she would keep down it. Best get in to get her protein!
So it was her pleasant surprise and (inner girl was chanting hush now) as the big guy awkwardly tried to introduce himself again and the most pleasant introduction of the elderly woman pastry cook who was bringing in brownie points of Clark Kent by putting napkin his chest and telling Lois Lane how he helped around the store, gives him three boxes of donuts (hopefully it's not a dietary concern but by god what that boy do to get that jacked must be worth it) and telling Lois while Clark had the most 'Did my self image just died' that it prevents crumbs from getting on his shirt.
She giggled. Yes she giggled.
"Ah! There you are Peter!" The little old lady after shouting at her husband in the back motioned with her hand behind Lois. Lois had no self realization (her dad would have gently yet firmly reprimanded her for not covering her blind spots) yet the figure behind her had no hostile intent at all. He just seemed..there.
He was 8 inches taller than her, yet seemed to want to appear smaller. Dark Brown hair, Dark brown eyes, expressive face with a build he tried to compress in on himself and appear skinnier than he actually was.
"Oh Ms. Wahlgren, how is the air conditioning doing?" A frank platitude.
"Oh my dear sweet boy it's better than before, I feel just the right amount of coldness for bed. Beauty sleep has never been better!"
"I'm glad to hear it" He said so tentatively like it was just something you do by picking up a grocery bag for the elderly.
"Clark dearie you know the drill" Wait what drill. The giant golden retriever (a correct summation in her perfect journalistic integrity mind) had his hand on the young wallflower(she keeps thinking crawler for some reason) and how he couldn't budge with nervous aggrieved energy.
"You know you don't hav-Wait drill!? What drill"
"Peter" and Lois took special notice of Clark's good natured and scarily (sexy) man voice breaking no tomfoolery. "Wait and until she comes back"
And lo and behold she saw Peter's eyes watered with slight betrayal looking at Clark with forlorn grievance at whatever punishment he was about to receive.
A…container of homemade curry and a photograph of a young woman.
"Here are your nutrients young man and oh gosh I somehow got mixed up with a photo of my young niece's daughter, you know she is in the city right now and she is applying for Metropolis University.."
"You don't say.." Peter drawls and Lois sees the tinges of smirk and chuckle from Clark. Lois chuckled and looked carefully at Peter's relaxed exasperation at this bold old school granny gumption. Lois can respect the game.
Lois can respect the tight cords of repressed secrets.
Speaking of which, she really needed to head out to work. Saying bye to the two young men (Clark which had just forgotten he made a cute gaffe until he remembered, blushed and waved back while Peter had the micro sweep look of Lois and Clark and she could see the bittersweet sadness like a bird who lost its partner and sees its best friend find hers and oh god she will find them again if its the last thing she does!)
_
Apparently its the first thing at work!
"No Lois," Perry dear Perry White sitting in his chair and in the office of the Daily Planet; pinched the bridge of his nose as she assumed was feeling under the weather of her big scoop exposed to find illegal weapons in Metropolis simply sighed "your an intern." Which was his way of shutting her down without a proper counter argument "the only reason I called you in today was to meet them." He points at the two men she met just this morning.
This is not the last thing she will do in her lifetime!
"Hi" said Peter, sitting on the side sofa next to Clark, though with both eyes on her and the blurry photo in his eye space.
"You?" Lois spoke (she will deny she was slightly gleeful) definitely had eyes for the big man who spoke.
"You"
"These are your new interns." Perry said as a matter of fact though she could swear she saw his eye roll. "I want you to show them the ropes and get.."
She was about to regather her energy to pirouette to getting steam back into the engine of Journalistic Investigation when the hooded boy suddenly went straight and came forward to the photos.
"Metropolis Municipal Code, Title 4, Section B,"
"Excuse me?" Perry enunciated as though he saw furniture, got up and spoke in a British accent.
"Any media corporation holding actionable photographic evidence of unregistered, military-grade ordnance operating within a high-density civilian zone has a precise four-hour window to report it to the authorities or publish it under public interest protections,"
Peter explained. His voice didn't waver. That was the scary part Lois thought looking at this seemingly nice boy who seemed allergic to thanks got up, stood erect and spoke with the homing direction of an Ion Cannon (did that work in the movies she completely forgot but it seemed the best comparison.
"If we withhold this..even under the guise of an editorial rejection-" Oh shit he did not just go there "-and those units cause property damage or loss of life, the Daily Planet loses its passive press immunity. We cross the legal threshold into material accessories to gross public endangerment."
You could hear the sound of silence… Simon and Garfunkel. The chirping of a cricket, the pin drop, the water perspiration of heatstroke(its not summer yet) or blood dropping from the roof (why did the image pop up in her head?)
No. Just. Pure. Unadulterated. Terrifying silence.
Lois looked at this guy as though he spoke Sumerian, Clark looked like the sun, the moon and the stars all decided to leap from the cosmos and dance the mambo in front of us all.
And Perry..
"...heh"
Heh?
Perry schooled his face into his stern frown with the slightest twitch in his jawline and the bulging veins correlated in his facial muscle structure. Good god Perry watch some comedy shows or take drugs (not that she would support it) if you haven't laughed in a while! Anything is better than being fired while dying of stroke where rage and giddiness tie a knot in your big weathered slightly overweight heart (she has the sense not to bring it up to anyone but dad)
"Peter Parker was it?" He said it was through the tone of what the weather is today.
And the cute looking intern blinked as though he wondered why he was there in this time and place of existence and remembered he was not acting his reserved quiet tag-along looking self. Yeah you can't fool me thought Lois and then remembered they were about to be..
"Yes sir" He startled a little squark. Well he should feel a little bit fearful considering the absolute shit they were all in..
"Are you a good photographer?" Peter looked at his chest with the old fashioned and cobbled together in a nice antique way.
Now Lois is an experienced historian of reporting, one of the things covered in esoteric study is the tools of the trade. Particularly the classics.
And this kid has a bona fide mother fricking 1950s ARGUS-C3.
"I like to think I'm decent sir" Humble after the sheer evisceration of the boss rigidity.
"Decent is the first step to mediocrity or professional" Not sure that works Chief "Its a matter of choice and responsibility"
Why did that look like it hit her soon to be adorable little helper like a javelin in the heart. Why did her soon to be big handsome helper look like he wanted to put little helper in blanket?
"Lane." Perry said in firm command.
"Yes!" She hoped her outburst was not too loud. She was miliary trained for Pete's sake.
"Go investigate"
…invesitage…?
"..The weapons.." She was breathing normally right?
"Find out where they are, call the police" He pointed at her and the two. "Take these interns with you, no reporting and" He raised a finger and spoke with calm serious care "If one man so much as shifts his gun in your direction. You run. No heroics. No big scoop. Just do your civic duty."
"Yes sir! Right away you won't regret this" Was she speaking fast paced.
"Lane!" A bit loud and it does its job. She stopped. Perry motioned to the side.
"Introduce yourselves"
"Oh.." That tracks. She turned to the two men who had donuts out and were placed on desk while she was having existential meltdown and up down (is that a proper word? It should be a word)
She extended her hand "Lois Lane"
The first to grasp her hand was like a warm boulder on her little mittens (stop it face don't give yourself away!)
"Clark Kent" The glasses. The glasses are a shield into a blue eye soul wait a minute. The glasses are a lie!?
He let go of her hand while she treasured the warmth. She does not believe in not washing hands(kissing cheek etc) as that's unhygienic but she will make sure to hold hands again (she will push those other thoughts down he is an intern!)
Then the other hand came up and she felt she was the one giving warmth in little cold sturdy rough callused and somehow soft tendered yet firm hands at the same time. Like she wanted to rub her thumb over to care for a child.
"Peter Parker"
"Now that you have been introduced please get the hell out of my office"
They were out faster than a speeding bullet.
_
So first order of business.
"Great Scott what was that!?" Her hands were shaking the completely shocked and scared 18 year old kohai (yes she will call him kohai because even though she is half Korean she is a woman of culture) "You just got up, whipped out an entire legal crash course torpedo and sank Perry White! What have they been teaching you in.."
"Middle School.."
"Nah!" She patted his shoulders good naturedly as he fitted his clothes tightly as though she didn't feel the strong sturdy form buried in the jacket of both physical and mental pretend meekness. "No teenager watches that amount of Law and Order and not make a total ass oh himself using TV knowledge."
"I just said middle school and I just…read a lot ok?"
"Peter…" A voice said behind him in wonder and care as his eyes looked at his smaller companion as though he discovered baby learned to walk. (Oh that is so sweet!) "You didn't tell me you scored an A+ on Law Studies"
Peter just sighed and waved his hands away.
"Look I.. I had a lot of time to myself and I wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing when I got this job"
This Job..
Lois could discern a lot from that statement and phrase alone. Perry would have given her a heads up if the intern had unfortunate law troubles, the kid absolutely had no feel of a criminal thanks to her unorthodox childhood training as she could see the weight behind those frankly too young to be tired soul eyes.
The best thing would be to..
"Alright then!" She grabbed both of these soon to be christened knuckleheads, Clark was blushing and she loved how much power she was having over him at this moment while Peter squawked at this infringement on his cool mysterious stranger vibe she was not buying at all. "Interns! (Ignoring she was an intern) We have a rendezvous with destiny! So. Lets. Go!"
_
"My Grandfather used an Argus, weighs like a boat anchor and your stringing it around your neck like a throwaway pendant"
"It's a modified C3," Peter tried a conciliatory tone to throw off Lois' perceptive gaze, his eye still pressed to the rangefinder as he tracked a guard walking past a crate of high-tech exo-suits. Snap. "I built it out of parts I found in the trash and a thrift shop downtown. The original shutter was shot."
Lois reached out, her fingers brushing the cold, hand-polished metal of the lens casing. She noticed the flawless, unnatural clarity of the glass and the absolute fluid smoothness of the focus ring. Her eyes went wide as the journalistic gears in her head instantly shifted into entrepreneurial disbelief.
"You made this? Out of scrap?" Lois whispered, her voice cracking with a mix of awe and sheer capitalist shock. "Parker, are you out of your mind? You could make a hell of a lot of money selling what you made from scrap! Do you have any idea how much this could sell for in an antique shop?!"
Peter offered a faint, tired smile, his thumb winding the manual film advance lever—which he had rigged to actually compress a micro-generator to keep the internal battery charged. "Probably a couple hundred bucks to a hipster in Suicide Slum, Lois."
"A couple hundred?!" Lois grabbed his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "Try thousands! The vintage collectors in the Tomorrow District would alienate their own families for a fully functioning, custom-optics mid-century rangefinder that handles low light like a military night-vision scope! You're sitting on a goldmine, and you're using it to take photos of illegal weapons for intern wages!"
From a few feet away, Clark let out a soft, nervous chuckle, keeping his eyes on the warehouse door. "I think it's nice, Lois. It has... character. Just like Peter."
"It doesn't have character, Kent, it has a profit margin!" Lois shot back, though she couldn't help but look at Peter with a brand new layer of fierce respect. "The second we bust this story wide open, Parker, you and I are talking about a patent."
Peter just kept his eyes on the target, his grip steady on the camera. He didn't want a patent. He didn't want the money, or the fame, or his name in a registry database that a corrupt government agency like Damage Control could track. He just wanted a tool that worked, (a....roommate he could trust,) and a chance to do some good from the shadows.
Snap.
_
Clark Kent had a lot of things on mind that happened today. New morning, new chance to be normal, new ways of acting out ordinary life like getting to work at the Daily Planet, helping his gifted roommate no FRIEND! Emphasis on Friends because Peter Parker needs more than two and two halves. Nice delightful jog where he pretended to slow down for his very (unconvincing poor) cardiovascular friend who might be a bit paranoid.
Then he found a missing cat, then they stopped by the donut shop to get stuff for new bosses because its always great to have favorable impressions on future employees.
Then he found her.
Lois.
Beautiful
Full of life.
And insanely reckless.
Which is why he is besotted by her as they don't simply observe from a reasonable distance from docks but are actually in direct vicinity of shipping containers and one yard distance from mercs with guns.
"Why are we here?" Clark asked softly.
"Not the time for rooster teeth Kent" Spoke Peter softly photographing which begs the question when he stooped back from angle at unnerving right time before being spotted.
"Oh your not just a savant your a fellow person of culture" Lois said pointedly while hugging the shadows next to Clark in her awesome coat and snug little frame bracing him.
"Not sure now is the time for obscure pop culture reference Lois"
The short woman looked up at Clark's face as though he said he didn't believe the moon orbits the earth "Did they not have internet in Smallville"
Peter's shoulders shifted a little, that was a muffled laugh and Clark considered it a win and yet now is not the time for celebrating small wins!
"I…stopped looking at internet for entertainment when I discovered OnlyFans"
…
Why did he say that out loud?
"...A completely reasonable answer" She put her hands on his shoulders to massage them, Peter gave him a very sympathetic look. "I'll help you in healing your trauma after we bust this wide open"
"Guys…"
"Followed by showing you quality entertainment mixed with critique of your budding journalistic chops."
"Guys…"
"And you will teach me the…fundamentals of small town journalism ethics."
"Why that is.." He was about to segue into something profound before his super ears picked up whirring and being tugged by Peter.
"The robots are waking up!"
_
Peter had a lot of things on his mind today. A lot of buried things that he thought would just be free floating into the top of ethereal mental skimming on the water pool that was his calm aqua spirit.
(MJ and Mr. Stark would've given him so much shit if they read that in writing PUSH IT DOWN!)
He got up, started working on his bench while his sleepy secret metahuman roommate (he cannot think friend because he knows he cannot have them) fix up neighbours appliances, make sure the kids have their english courses are fine tuned, politely refusing esplanades no matter how good they smell or taste (or that they keep finding themselves on his table by a smiling too good for his own good roommate that he is forced to eat and enjoy by his nuclear puppy eyes) how Peter is perfectly fine and (not constantly checking Flamebirds constant tweeting of adventures that somehow he didn't ignore or that they keep getting into his main page despite all reason Whistling by Victor Stone raises suspicion)
He was a New Yorker (that..exist here but…somehow far away and..not the same) so he knows the rough and tumble of trying to eke out a living (if much better due to unnecessary thank yous from overly-friendly people) and knows how to take care of himself (the sure you are look nod by Clark not helping) and he wanted to succeed in his new internship because its a path to a good job.
(The suit he finished months ago was still hanging in rafters. Just…there)
His new superior (is that the right word or is it..senpai, the anime-like feel of this universe is disturbingly comfortable, why is it so comfortable the physically impossible beautiful angles and colors are driving him insane!) needed help and his instinct to help caused him to open mouth and insert foot. Instead of being tossed out which he was sure his new (maybe) boss would've done just gave him a nod of approval and respect. Give them the go ahead.
(He would never be blindsided again by the bullshit that went down in previous life!) He had years of self reflection and curious nature to learn those particular idioms of civil structure and law.
So when he goes along with two clearly lovestruck birds that made him feel like a third wheel (Sure you are kid, a voice somewhere in the afterlife spoke) to photograph mercenaries with robots in a docking yard he thought it'll be an in and out situation.
Then Parker Luck found them and in the darkness bind them!
And the jumping, and the moving and the screaming, and the skirting and the dodging and the rolling and moving to the grooving (play that funky music white boy!) that Clark swerved right.
"I'll distract it!"
"Clark don't!" Peter hadn't realized he said the exact same pitch and tone as Lois. His hearing was feeling the echoes of vibration of the soft silvery metal touches on the ground by sharp pincer legs. Red fire, blast of energy, smoke and debris.
Snap!
Peter couldn't help but take a photo. Every shot count, every shot needed and everything must be recorded. Even when they are dying for their lives. No wait! Trying not to die for their lives.
Was it always this crazy?
Then a red light veered on his periphery..heartbeat going faster..
TING! Says an itch
It was ringing slightly, growing in pitch as the blast took off the upholstered crate chain connecting a 8,2000 lbs of empty metal death weight upon the two.
Buzzing! Electric
Hair raised. Adrenaline.
She is in front of him. It's not for her, it's for him.
He pushes her out of the way so she doesn't see.
WHAM!
"PETER!"
His body had hit the side.
Breathing..slowed..so blurry…so..
Darkness.
_
….
Ba-thump
"Leviĝu Spando"
That voice…
Ba-thump.
"Ili bezonas vin"
Ba-thump!
Red and Blue.
Heartbeat returning to normal.
Lights coming back on.
"Ni bezonas vin. Mi bezonas vin."
He remembers her voice. He remembers responsibility.
"Mi bezonas vin, Petro."
Peter Parker's eyes open.
_
Lois swore she would wring the neck of the jackass who pushed the button to activate the robot. Fear was replaced by rage as the machine walked forward until it was blindsided by a tall broad shouldered man in a workman's hoodie.
That was flying.
Oh my god he was flying.
A man was flying in the air and punched out a robot.
Adrenaline made her short circuit as she understood the implications of what she just saw as the robot seemed to be down for the count. Flying guy was looking over the area in order to check something really hard and looked from physical posture really fricken worried.
So of course she'd be worried if the super strong flying man is himself worried until he notices more lights going on.
Oh great, more robots! Who pushed the button this time
Somewhere not too far away the mercenary known as Livewire felt as though she received a slap to the face she was sure she deserved.
Flying man flew forth to the main area where the robots were powering up, he moved like lightning, warp step no speed step. Like..
Faster than a speeding bullet.
Punches, as if trying to measure the correct amount of strength that varied for situation. Lois can't help but be there as she had followed in awe until realizing her photographer wasn't there..
Oh god where is..
THWIP!
THWIP!
Two soaring piledriving sticky looking fluid things came out of nowhere to web robots together until a coated figure in a red ski looking mask came in twisting like a spin kick (spin kick. Really?) through the red plates of the mechs.
"Hey Big Guy!"
Wow that voice seemed British (aforementioned figure felt a little sniffle for some reason)
"Don't worry about holding back! Just lean into it" Like a Spider-Monkey (aforementioned figure felt like embarrassment) he shot. Webs at legs and crawled on one before leaping from blast that took out the one he was on (So the robots are less intelligent than Stormtroopers great design) "Like trying to pee your own pants!"
"What?" Spoke the Flying Man in what she assumed was a serious voice that sounded familiar to her.
"Just Punch them!" Spider-Monkey did a cool somersault before the other robots decided to get smarter and group shoot them.
Right focus time Lois, leave the weird brotherly and strangely cute banter of superbeings in the fight! They need professional help and what she could see.
"There has to be a control panel for these things!"
Good advice! Now she could see the stairs leading up to containment areas and particular green buttons. Those are good signs.
Sprint, keep pace and dodge the fight!"
SLAM!
BAM!
Flying Man fell down! Spider Monkey was working overtime as he over-focused on the one in front of him. He seemed to be spinning and jumping, keeping conservative stock of himself as though..he was realising he had jumped into a situation he was not ready for..
Lois had already went up stairs, oh look! buttons. Time to smash.
ONE!
One powered down.
TWO!
Another!
THREE!
The remaining two suddenly pivoted past their fallen comrade and marched on her, why did these giant smooth tin cans choose now to have a brain.
And the man in the hood, she could somewhat see a bruised eye and she could almost hear the words.
"Lois!"
And like a miracle. Blue energy like that of a super Saiyan blue(yes Super had problems but it still counts!) and like a bolt of beautiful aqua lightning he zapped forward to deliver a flying thunder punch to one red chassis.
While the other was kicked through by Monkey Spider going through it like a reverse baby Xenomorph! (Ok bad example but it was the first thing to come to mind)
Flying man was on the ground trying to balance himself in humble feet apart and arms circular while Spider-mon..no the Human Spider moved his legs in a sweep like doing acrobatics with his head tilted upwards, his hand centering himself with his right hand pushing against the wind.
What kind of landing was that!?
Just like she would be inhaling her morning coffee she zoomied down the stairs with a notebook and pen at the exact moment the Spider guy webbed off and Flying Man was about to leave.
"No! Stop! Wait!"
Flying Man paused briefly as though he didn't want to leave. He flew anyway.
"I..just want to know if…"
"Lois!"
She turned to the side and outside of the wreckage was Clark! In his sweater and rumpled self and glasses and..
She threw her arms around him and held him tight!
"CLARK!" She cried out. "We have to find Peter! We have to.."
Snap!
"I'm here!"
From around the destroyed robot she heard her kohai taking photos of that one busted up mech, rumpled with his hair tousled and dirty and scratches. He looked as though he had only been dirtied by a dust storm rather than hit by a storage container.
"I've got the photos Ms Lane It's!"
_
He was enveloped in the most suffocating warmth protecting him. It felt like..Mr.Stark, the last time…
"Oh god! Oh god your safe" She cried on his shoulder, her arms tightening around his shoulders as though he was a cuddle bear who was found by his owner. Or rather something small and fragile like that of a mother to a child.
He felt…bad for some reason.
"Its ok. It was just a scratch, what's important is that your ok"
"..."
Why was his spider sense tingling and Clark's happy and relieved face was turning into worried concern.
"...Ok?"
Peter had to look down at the fierce looking glaring eyed small woman pinning him like a boa constrictor on an unsuspecting chump.
"Do you have…any idea…"
WARNING! WARNING!
"What you put me through!"
Peter tried to put his hands up as the frankly scary look of doom that was in his circle of security. That had already passed the five levels and into the prize of Peter's dignity and self shame.
Her grip tightened and why was she so strong!?
"You better have good pictures Parker or so help me I will perform a colonsypo with your Ar"
"Ahem!" Thank god for the lucky fool who tries to tame this beast Peter thinks. Lois turned to Clark who was looking serious and didn't look at all scared (Peter could see the slightest crinkle of worry that Clark's eyes held) "It's been a long day…so why don't we skedaddle and pick up some smores for Perry"
…
"PFTFTTFFFT HAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
"Skeddadle! You are way too young to be a dad Kent!" Lois hollered and slapped her knees.
"Smores! Hah you said that with a straight face! It's the city of Metropolis Clark! where we get donuts! It's not even Winter!" Peter snickered and just waved his hands as though he was embarrassed to be in the same room as him.
Clark blushed and looked a little petulant before joining in the laughter and getting them into a bear hug.
"I'm just glad," He said slowly. His warmth felt like a blanket you never wanted to get out of "That your both ok"
Lois had her arms around her two boys. Her two crazy (she is the sane one!) precocious innocent boys.
"We did it! We got the-"
"Don't jinx it!" Peter yelled before alarms came by and they really had to get the heck out of dodge.
_
"You've got something" Spoke Perry White flatly, steeping his fingers like Gendo Ikari.
"Wait wait," Lois waved her hands back and forth without her coat. Peter and Clark behind her standing at parade attention. "We didn't jinx it" She looked to her right back at Peter who shrugged.
"You didn't. Jinx anything" Perry said. "You simply broke my ruling on direct action" Perry sighed and looked forlornly at them "You went ahead and got up close and personal"
"But Chief we" Lois tried to explain but he waved a hand.
"Lois. Peter got hurt" The boy from Queens (she pegged him from Queens) "The only reason I'm not assigning to permanent coffee duty is because in spite of the danger you knowingly" With this he gave a terse look at her which made her be quiet "Put these interns through they went above and beyond their duty in doing a job well"
Perry waved a hand on his desk on the collected photos. All clear, all present. All there.
"These are the photos of a professional followed by an enthusiastic written display of Journalism even if its on the fly which someone gifted" Giving Peter side eyed who wilted a little "Proofread legal and journalistic laws and a good proofreader," Staring at Clark who gave embarrassed scratch on head. "On words and sentences that I might, might forget that little kerfuffle on flouting my very clear and precise warning" He breathed in, and out.
"Above all good job"
Lois Lane blinked.
"Really?" She said in wonder and awe.
"Yes. Now get out of my office!"
SLAM!
So in the hallway Lois Lane jumped in the air and squealed and hugged her two men in neck hold.
"You hear that! We did it! We bust the story open! We!"
Then things caught up in her head and did a screeching stop. Peter looked worried while Clark was blushing at closeness.
"..Did he say anything about publishing or promoting us?"
Peter wisely chose not to sigh in relief.
"CHIEF!"
"TOMMOROW LANE!"
"TOMMOROW CAN"T COME SOON ENOUGH!"
Louis was just too good in a mood and slapped the backs of Clark and Peter.
"I'll tell you interns, Lois Clark and Peter are going to be the next best thing in Journalism since Nellie Bly, Walter Duranty and Eddie Adams! We are going to the top!" She cradled them and by god how was she so strong!
"It is a brand new day everyone! So let's move!"
For Clark it was as true as the sun coming up.
For Lois it was just a natural vibe.
For Peter…felt a little a nice about it.
"Start working tomorrow" Peter opined.
"Oh yeah!" Lois grinned and they couldn't help but share in the joy.
_
It was the afternoon. High up in the air, the sunny sky. Blue overcast about to blur into purple dark. Clark Kent spoke aloud.
"Who am I?"
In the apartment Peter looked at his mask, looked at the photos on Camera, the ones of high definition showing two strangers holding a secret from each other, two people who save others with the world on their shoulders. Two disguised men.
Peter Parker with his Web shooter still attached to his wrist, had his thumb over the red button 'DELETE'.
"I remember who I am".
Spiderman softly whispered.
_
Inspired by this, as well as liking MCU Spiderman and I'm a sucker because Spiderman to me is like the ultimate hero hamstringed by maleovolant comic writers and editors thus like all people who admire him want him to be happy.
This will not bash Jimmy Olsen, yes I know that he has fumbled but he is having his own adventures outside Superman and is a friend of Clark and Peter(though Peter will try to deny it mentally as much as he could). I love the version of Supergirl from this show. She has so much chemistry with MCU Peter and frankly they work so well together. It'll take a while to get there because we are still in Season One. The kryptonise from show can be translated using AI so it adds a layer of beauty to Peter trying to figure out who that voice was.
I don't exactly read comics but I love anime.
Brand New Day was a good fun film, but after thinking things through...look Jean Grey never apologised for the horrible things she did or try to make amends. I don't have much care for the Marvel Movie directors and what they think what anti-heroes/villains actually is or stuff and honestly...it's just not worth complaining about since it's already out there. I just want to make a story where heroes are heroes and villains are villains. Don't expect great fight scenes or what not, as you can see I've probably fudged up the humor and pacing as I am an amaetur and I will freely admit it. If someone is inspired to write more fanfics on this wonderful show thats awesome.
Sadly due to where I live I cannot watch Season 3 yet because of some bullshit legal technicalities that I can't make heads or tails of and I don't know if it would ever come.
I will endeavor however to read the recent Comic crossover with Spiderman and Superman.
I love the show and MCU (before it turned into moral quagmire) I just want to get this out because it won't leave me. I want to write something beutiful and fulfill catharsis.
I have no idea of how to make or ask someone to make art of this. Maybe after a few more chapters.
I hope this turns out well and I hope I will finish it.
Till next time.
Adventures of a Normal Human Man plus one Part 2
Re-interest
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Authors Note: Some of the stuff below is nonsensical and it sounded sensible in head. Please be advised.
_
Adventures of A Normal Man Part 2
_
The Past…
Darkness.
Chaos
Cold
So Cold
Blue Light..
"Saluton, eta ulo"
Warmth..Familiar and yet different…
"Vi venis longan vojon, ĉu ne?"
Other words were said. Beautiful words of an unknown source. Like how a baby brain could compute an otherworldly yet protective source of heat. He could remember the word Petro. It sounded right to him.
A soft humming of a lullaby. Soothing, peaceful and so warm..
When was the last time he felt so warm..it seemed like he never knew it until just now,
"Dormu, mia eta stelo, dormu nun.
La mallumo ne povas vundi vin.
Mi tenas vin sekura en mia koro.
Dormu, mia fileto, dormu nun."
Peter Parker heard the most wonderful sound as he remembered red and blue. An arachnid symbol on top of a large 'S'.
"...por ĉiam"
For All Time
_
Peter and Clarks Apartment.
Peter Parker woke up, breath laboured yet still. Blanket wrapped securely on his top bunk that he swore didn't have an extra blanket and warm heatpack. His eyes adjusted to the dark, listened closely to Clark's careful warm breathing that were kinda snores which he wouldn't give his roommate shit for. He looked around and found the ladder going down. With careful acrobatic skill he slid down, looked over Clark and felt a sense of exasperated annoyance at his sleeping without a care in the world face. Peter turned around to see his personalised super clock that will ring a soothing rhythm before stopping so it doesn't 'accidentally' break.
5:00 AM
Good time to get to work.
…Why did it feel like someone was giving him an uncomfortable maternal stare with a tapping of the finger on arm while it was folded..
Peter shook himself from such things and opened the door quietly. There was a vacant space for storage, on the wall was hidden fake wall he put in at one time when his roommates were busy. A container was a red and blue suit. His hand touched it and he felt its hot touch even though it had no residual heat. He took the wall off gently, took out the container. I opened it and looked at it closely in the moonlight.
He put it next to his walking clothes. Putting them under them.
He walked to his corner of the room, turned on the small lights and began setting his workplace in order.
Clark is a heavy sleeper so no worries about it.
…Why did he feel a huff and a tut tut from a maternal presence that was grinning good naturedly as though the most hilarious disciplinary action was about to be handed down…
_
1 Hour and 20 minutes later…
Peter was sitting at his desk pondering, in his own way pondering meant welding together tech, suit fabrics, staring and clicking keyboard of blue screen of stitched together laptop which it looked it came front the 2010s(thank you weirdly advance other dimension humanity for throwing away perfectly viable tech) sometimes peering over the draws where an dispatcher was. The flat wood being a canvass for his cluttered mind filtering out and utilised by drawing geographical maps of the city, distances, diameters, length of time and distance to the nearest building and the fastest transit tunnels in the City.
All in a fluffy comfy pajama set donated by one Martha Kent. With tractors on them.
His fingers traced the maps, his fingers touching the size of his mammoth books of the titles pertaining to lawful studies, the big Argus with little pin me notes of lighting ratios, shutter speeds and composition. His eyes always on the job, on the task, on the responsibi-
CLICK!
The light shone brightly on his desk. Peter Parker blinked and wondered why Spider-Sense did not go off when his stuff was moved aside: laptop shut, books, tech and maps neatly put away in a pile of reserved corners of space.
And lo and behold Clark Kent in ridiculous flannel pajamas with tractors on them standing like a behemoth of wholesome goodness that scared the crap out of Peter Parker. The giant man had the most carefree grin in the whole world and ruffled his head.
"Hey Clark I was right in the middle of-!" A fervent squawk of indignation.
"Table needs to be clear for the most important meal of the day" Was defeated by the unmovable object of Clark Kent's no nonsense wholesome goodness. Peter refused to back down.
"C'mon man I just need to finish the…finish the.." Peter tried to find the words "The Posse Commitaus Law on Bagel Usage in Reasonable Belief in Product Liability of DUI and Chemical Testing Defense" There take that!
Silence.
Clark Kent used puppy dog eyes.
It was super effective!
Peter Parker slumped and eat using cutlery that was gingerly handed to him by Clark who gave him a soothing rubbing hand on his back. Peter felt his knots melt away and enjoyed the food as the sun was about to break out and the alarm clock that Peter had cobbled together ringed.
A day for new adventure
It would drown out Clark Kent's muffled shuffling mountainous shoulders as he peered over the skillet or roasted hot pot. The sound buffering the giggles his Meta Roomate had.
…It wasn't terrible.
Then his eyes widened as he realised he was not at his desk but the table. Where not a breakfast but a living structural hazard.
Three over-easy eggs, edges perfectly crisped in bacon fat.
A mountain of hash browns, golden brown and shredded perfectly.
Four thick strips of hickory-smoked bacon and two sausage links.
A stack of three fluffy pancakes, dripping with real maple syrup.
Besides this great alien sight was a giant oversized mug, a thick cloud of steam like a warm mist concealing an oncoming smell of cocoa and roasted marshmallows.
"What..what is this?" Peter gasped out loud trying to sound regal and normal. Then his stomach went out and betrayed him by a roar so loud it rumbled the silverware.
"An all American breakfast!" Clark boasted sliding into the chair next to him with his own portion. "And hot chocolate. Extra milk" With a sparkle and homespun American Cheer.
"Can I..just get some coffee, my brains fried" Peter tried to hold onto dignity as he reached for the coffee pot that betrayed him as well by its emptiness.
"Coffee can come later," Clark firmly put Peters hand away from the empty traitorous pot and moved the wavery hand to the mug. "Youre body needs calcium and real fats, not liquid anxiety. Drink. the. Cocoa."
And so Peter did, the first tentative sip was like a balm to his soul. The fork piercing bacon piece to deliver to mouth and inserting a rush of carbohydrates into his bloodstream hit him like a jackhammer.
He chewed slowly, his eyes glistening and Peter Parker mumbles something that made Clark Kent blinked owlishily.
"What was that?" The big bound to be Alien God asked ignoring the breach of manners from his erstwhile small defenseless munchkin of a friend.
"It's good" Peter looked to the side bashfully before turning to Clark in squinting defeated eyes. "It's really good"
"Told you" And Just Like That Clark glowed like the golden retriever who found and caught the best stick in the park. "Eat up. Every single bite. I'm checking the plate before we hit the bullpen"
Peter Parker cursed his Parker Luck! Damn Clark Kent for being such a swell guy!
_
The Daily Planet…
Archives…
Damn Lois Lane for being an observant hyper-manic gremlin!
"I Give You." A flourish dramatic ensemble of the magician and terrifying act dressed in her simple work uniform. "The Murder Board!"
A whiteboard of clipped photos, stringing together like some macabre stalkers deluding themselves on the Deep State had nothing on the sheer madness in front of Peter who was dressed in his baggy clothes and other stitched together pants.
To Clarify:
A faded, slightly oversized gray t-shirt featuring a retro, peeling logo of the Midtown High School Physics Club. It has a tiny grease stain near the hem from when he was tinkering with his school equipment (read:web-fluid formula) in a motel sink.
A heavily washed, slightly frayed navy-and-maroon plaid flannel shirt worn completely open over the t-shirt. The cuffs are rolled up haphazardly, revealing wrists that look lean but hide terrifying wrist (read:spider)-strength.
A pair of thrifted, dark-wash denim jeans that are a little too loose around the waist, held up by a cheap nylon belt. The hems are slightly frayed from dragging along the New York pavements.
A pair of beat-up, old-school high-top Converse sneakers with mismatched laces—one white, one a faded red he found in a discount bin.
While Clark Kent was dressed in his neat slightly ruffled work suit with tie and glasses. Looking Bug eyed and white.
Because the Murder Board had photos. Big clear photos of Dockyard, giant robots, webs, laser beams, destruction and the high definition of IMAX Cinema thanks to yours truly Peter Parker.
"...How?" Peter said in gobsmacked terror that came out in a squeak.
"Glad you asked a newbie!" Louis pointed dramatically at Peter "Thanks to the photos you gave me and being inspired by your due diligence I looked up the systematic records on the other buildings surveillance network" she struck her chest out proudly with closed eyes.
Peter blinked.
"You told me that was extra credit on the Mercs Transport Schedule! How did you even.." Peter smacked his forehead. "Right you jumped back and forth on bandwidth to reconfigure the setting, wait a minute" He opened his hand to stare at her "Does that mean..?" He was too terrified to speak out.
Clark was also terrified to speak out as the dawning horror of the unveiling of his (he hopes the other guy was not who he thought he was please god oh merciful god) identity.
"Correct!" Lois grinned loud and with a triumphant yell she put out two pictures. Peter and Clark took a breath, and exhaled.
Good news: the photo just happened to be on the side covering their heads.
Bad news that made Peter sucked in a breath as though he accidentally swallowed a fishbone.
The one of the web slinging men was positioned in a flying crouch which on threadbare pants looked about to burst.
Peter's summation in his mind was.
Oh my god…is my ass that vivid!!!????
"Superman and Spiderman!" Lois Lane put her hands on her hips preening at her accomplishment in presentation as though it was the guaranteed winner in a class activity.
Clark Kent's summation in his mind was.
Oh thank you god that she is pretty and not observant at the best of times!
"This is our next big story boys!" Lois pulled out the paper with the byline of Clark, Lois and Peter which looked.
"Is this filled?" Clark said nonchalantly.
"It is on a plaque, which will have a place of honour in our Murder Room!" She laid out the incriminating evidence in the base of the board. Elucidating the various photos of costumed vigilantes, alien conspiracies and was that a spider with nuclear warning labels on them. What goes through her amazing head?
Clark Kent will not curse god, he will however…
God Why did you make this wonderful woman so observant at the worst of times!
Peter didn't have the heart to point out it was the Archives while looking like someone walked over his grave. Clark Kent had the heart to be happy for her while sweating on the outside like someone exposed his secret lost and found baseball cards(they were missing and lost from trucks and he would dare anyone to dispute it in court!).
"Lois. This is..This just came out?" Clark looked wonderingly at the paper hoping to take his mind off the sheer kerfuffle that they stumbled into.
"The first copy!" She yelled with stars in her eyes and hugged both of the men in her strong small body grip. "You are my two favourite people in the world right now"
God she smells and feels nice! Clark thought secretly.
Too close! Must. remain. Stoic. And. ghostly! Peter's thought ran on a static feedback loop.
"What about Jimmy?" Clark asked pointedly while blushing at the contact. Peter was just staring into the void.
"Jimmy can come later" Lois tittered as though it was no great worry. Jimmy Olsen was on another adventure trying to find a place called Gorilla City which she would give him a pass on. She gave a lot of passes to the endearing conspiracy nut friend who somehow got more than 50 followers in the past month.
Which brings up to the next point on the next investigation. With a lightning flash twirl she slapped a picture of a blond Gyaru with jacket and glasses and a whole lot of rebel mercenary look.
"We need to find this woman. We find her. We find..."
"The tech that is dangerous to civilians" Clark raised his finger upwards.
"The optimised location of the deal that's about to go down so we can alert the proper authorities!" Peter synchronised the vibe.
"Superman and Spiderman!" Lois proclaimed then took a thoughtful expression "Yes those two but more importantly the two I said and.." She gave side-eye to Peter. "What makes you sound so sure she needs to do a deal."
"I-I mean" Peter tries to do the stuttering but Lois was on the roll and she looked like she wouldn't take stuttering as answer, "It makes sense right, judging by the mercs arrest and the recent chatter in criminal patterns by observation she's clearly in it for money. With the authorities on her tail and the disbandment of the group she was in, she needs to salvage something out of this mess and from clear viewing of her Mercs…mishandling" He said the last part out bitterly (oh thats telling something) "It shows she doesn't have much of a responsible head on her shoulders meaning she either tries to get out or make a deal, either way" Peter crossed his arms.
"She could just as easily be taken in by cops or.."
"..Or..?" Lois was pressing in dangerously close. Clark Kent was looking closer and my god why was he so close!
"...Illegal government operations" Peter said silently looking like he swallowed a lemon while staring pointedly at Murder Board. Now before Lois could press on that clear cry for help opening (in her opinion) Clark Kent cleared his throat and went forward.
"I think Peter is on to something here Lois" Clark said firmly, moving his hand to point at Leslie "If this is something that could endanger lives this would have to be cause for Judicial Matters first before Journalism."
"Oh Clark, Clark My Sweet Summer Child" Peters eyes widened as though he was told the moon actually was made of cheese at Lois suave phrase and moving her hands throwing them back and forth. "The chances of things escalating that high is about nil to zero" She leaned forward to look coquettishly at him. "You've just got to trust my gut," She tilted her head slightly "You do trust me on this right?"
Clark's gentle, reasonable giant figure looked stunned as a deer in headlights then looked as abash as a bear being caught eating out honey. He scratched his head looking slightly away before answering directly to her.
"With my life"
Peter stared blinking at this overbright giant walking mega nuke wrapped up in a pliant cuddly teddy bear.
"So it's settled" Lois leaned back, went and put on her coat. "Besides if you knew these two amazingly gifted people going around helping people without recognition or wanting reward..don't you want to know who they are?"
Clark stilled. Peter stilled. The former with wonder, worry and confusion. The latter with sadness, self pity and empty gaze.
"I..I do" Clark spoke aloud looking briefly at the board and then side-glance back to Peter who shuffled deeper into his hoodie.
"..Maybe they don't want to be found" Peter said softly. Lois noticed this and gently patted him on the shoulder which shocked Peter with his eyes searching hers.
"Of course they don't want to be found Peter, they are just waiting for a fashionable entrance!"
…"Excuse me?" Peter Parker said flatly. Clark was interested in where this was going.
"C'mon!" Lois laid out her hands to the side "Two people with extraordinary powers in those hand me down thrift store threads are bound to stand out like a sore front I mean do you know how many homeless people in Metropolis could pull an Olympic Bodybuilder and Runner without fabric needing a new stitch every time they roll their hips!"
Clark felt self conscious about that and actually very blushing pleased that she noticed while holding his hand to his chest and discreetly looking down. Peter looked as though someone told him he looked like a thirty year old hipster trying to blend in modern everyday life and the guy looked down on himself feeling a bit self conscious.
"Though it is worrying" Lois put her hand to her chin "Spiderman looks a bit on the thin side I mean it looks like he survives on coffee and spite alone" Peter felt chills and covered himself sweating and hoping a meteor crashed because this was humiliating. "And Superman looks like he can't stop himself from flying aimlessly around like a dog trying to catch a ball the owner keeps out of reach as though if he tries hard enough he could catch it."
Clark felt she was baiting him somehow and was about to tell it was first time fighting robots before he realised he needed to do something to get out of here!
COUGH!
COUGH!
"Sorry Lois it appears I am coming down with something I need to get back home and have that soup I prepared. Remember to stay out of trouble until I get back bye!" A staccato of noise and in the wind Clark rushed out.
"...Well I guess our trios down to duo" Lois clapped her hands as though it was no big deal but if someone listened closely they heard the undercurrent of sadness. Peter was caught up in the situation and patted her shoulder.
"Im sure he'll be back in no time"
"As soon as we publish"
Peter blinked and a terrible feeling of doom went through him.
"Lois.." He said with dread "Clark told us not to get into trouble"
"We are not getting into trouble my young understudy" She beamed at Peter "Trouble just happens to be where we are going"
"That is literally a faux pass on what we agreed to Clark!"
"Did anyone say the word 'yes'" She had her eyes closed and spoke with the seriousness of a great philosopher asking the deepest question. Peter wilted under the adamantium will of Lois Lane.
"No.."
"Then lets go!" Her hand reached out and pulled Peter Parker into trouble.
_
Outside into the beautiful city outskirts that we all hope to god nothing goes wrong…
Peter and Lois speed run the outskirts of the city where the sun was shining and the birds were singing and Peter thought how the hell did we get here.
"How the hell did we get here?" Lois asked the question out loud as she stretched herself out. The sea air drifted right into their nostrils as they hitchhiked on trams, rolled down roller skates and jogged the hills. How and Why Lois never questioned Peters stamina is beyond him be he will just roll with it and just go wherever this will lead to.
"Physcially or mentally"
"Rhetorical," She pointed a hand up in the air pointing, "Spiritually"
"I thought you weren't the one who brought into the new age pseudo-science?" Peter kicked a rock off while checking his Argus, recalibrating the optics while he was actually scrubbing the thing and looking pensively at nothing.
"Destiny"
Peter looked up with raised eyebrow,
"The horoscope said it was cancer?"
"Don't be an obtuse young intern!" She pivoted to him.
"I'm only a year younger than you" He grumbled.
She immediately closed the distance to him inside his personal space.
"And that's why I!" Putting her hand magnanimously to her chest "Am your senior and you should listen to your senior before I lecture you on your sanitary upkeep"
"...I use the shower"
"..Your dressing in an overlarge shirt that makes you look like a starving skeleton wrapped in strings, spite and sheer desperation." She tapped her chin "What did Mr.White say? Oh yes he mistook you for a lost high schooler"
Peter's mouth fell open.
"It's…It builds character!"
"Sure," and she put her hands on his shoulders "And your multi-discipline got our names in the paper(Did she actually read the paper!? Thought Peter then realised yes she was caught up in the moment and decided yes she didn't) which I will then use to drag you kicking and screaming into taking care of yourself"
This was getting out of hand!...Wait..?
Peter Parker blinked once. Then twice.
"..What?"
Lois' face turned sombre and rubbed his shoulders and why did it feel so good and..pinched his cheeks.
"Ow! What was that for?" He backed away and clutched his sore face. Who does that?
"Nothing" She put up her hands. "It's just that you're really stiff in the shoulders" She then patted his left shoulder once. "I can put in for a friend of mine near my place"
"Lois I-"
"Peter." She smiled. A terrifying person will not take no for an answer "Do I have to cuff you?"
"...Why do you have a cuff?" Peter believed she had one and had to ask.
"For Journalism!" She pulled him along by his shirt and why did he allow himself to be bullied like this!? How does anyone survive her!? She pointed to the seabed that was just over the corner.
"Now tell me what you see"
"Sand. It's everywhere, get used to it"
"Excuse me" She eloquently uttered the words, seriously giving him a side eye. Both were standing side to side on the road looking at what appears to be the empty shipping container.
"She would have to ditch the boat as she wouldn't have contact out in the sea, too risky for border control" He said firmly. Lois nodded and encouraged him to continue with her hand. "Flamebird visually tracked the boat to this location which means" His eyes searched the sand…
Peter suddenly looked alert, his hairs bristled and his senses went haywire as he surveyed the area and his eyes darted to look for tracks, thinking like a thief who is trying to get into the city through this path and it leads to…
"Old Tunnels, like the ones for underpass before the city built over them"
A pat on the back and..
Wait, did he just say those words out loud!
Lois Lane was speeding into the tunnel and Peter Parker catched up to her and realised something that he really should've learned earlier.
Lois Lane is a homing missile and he was the one tied to her. Why, thought Peter Parker, do I get pushed around by passionate women!?
Somehow he swore he could hear snorts of laughter from both male and female from somewhere far away.
_
"You know Peter, I believe we are having a connection here," Tools out, leap forward, disable and back to her pace. "Like two peas in a pod only this case we would've liked the third wheel," Jump and scoop and disable. "Like a wavelength, like I'm the leader, Clark is the beautiful muscle and your the scrappy sidekick"
THWIP!
THWIP!
Thank god she was talking while he webbed.
"...Scrappy?"
"Don't get me wrong you're going to need help, particularly" She looks behind her with her own flashlight while he looks as deadpan as he could be. Turning around forwards she continued talking as he quickly jumped around and disabled bombs at fantastic speeds. "If you just learn to be more aggressive, be more stubborn.."
"Not me.."
Lois stopped, silent and turned to him slowly. She looked at him in a way that made him feel self-conscious. Her eyes took on a soft sheen and her shoulders settled in a relaxed stance, her posture radiating a safe distance.
"..If there is anything you want to get off your chest..I'm here to listen" Gentleness, her tone carried such gentleness in the dark.
The temperature felt suddenly warm over a sudden, the seagulls and waves had long since echoed far in the back. Peter scratched his head and gave her an easy smile that Lois was familiar with.
A painful familiarity with its fakeness.
"Oh it's fine Ms Lane-"
"Lois."
Peter stilled. His posture froze as though an iceprick had gone through his sternum.
"I'm sorry what"
"Lois." She walked a step forwards, he was just taller than her by a few centimetres "My friends call me Lois"
"...Lois" Peter went on and put his hand down and shrugged his shoulders and tried to maintain a facade of pleasant oh it's ok Queens bluff. "It's just a teenager drama, you know: Trying to pay rent, getting an internship, being on the ground with one's own feet." He waved a hand as though it was no big deal "It's just normal stuff"
He then continued to move forward to walk in front of her, confident that the last of the bombs were disabled.
"...Choosing to be alone is not Normal Peter"
Peter Parker stopped. He felt his heart skip a beat and turned towards her searching face.
"I'm not..alone" He said deflecting with confusion.
"You're right," She said, shaking her head and putting on a smile and walked up beside him and patted his back only this time it was a gentle thrawk! That he barely felt. "You have me, Clark and Flamebird!" She exclaimed.
"I'll..I'll take your word for it." Peter said, nodding until he felt his shoulder being tightened by this small terrifying woman.
"My word..Peter Parker," She gave him a closed eyes and twitching smile "Is the word of a Lane and when we mean things" He eyes opened and gave him a warm smile "We mean them"
Why was that both terrifying and heartwarming?
"Oh look, we're here!" She pointed the flashlight up to the manhole cover and the Spider Sense(Thank you Jimmy for leaving that strange tangent about Alien Geometry and Spider Zombies) tingled more than usual. Which Peter was actually thankful for.
Because surely the tense and stressful conversation he had with Lois could not be more dangerous than what they were about to face.
_
Evidently it would be hairsbreadth of a line.
Slowly pushing the manhole cover to gently see the sunlight of Metropolis Road, the moving pedestrians, birds, Cars which seem to be on slow hour. Oh look it's the Merc Woman and A strong looking lead singer of a boy band in tactical military gear.
"I planted explosives all over the city" Leslie Williams (who Peter found out through his not so legal hacking of Police Databases) "and I'm ready to blow this place sky high."
Peter went cold and still. His eyes focused on the two facial expressions, Leslie was confident and smirking and uncaring of how many people she would hurt, the man sitting opposite her had stopped grinning and looked serious.
"Go on"
"I lifted 10 containers of your tech with the robots"
Peter felt like punching himself, what the hell was he doing focusing on the internship. This was a grievous oversight because he didn't account for the woman to be this careful. She might have a dead man's switch which he hoped wherever his flying friend was he'd needed to come straight back. Peter had his phone out and set to call Clark making sure to not press cancel if the message is left on.
Now they just need to remain low and quiet and…
"Let me see!" Lois popped beside him like a meerkat who felt her partner was hogging the best morning air. Peter wondered why the hell Spider-Sense did not alert him to the obvious destruction of a perfect careful reconnaissance view!
"Them!" Leslie shouted in alarm. Seriously!?
So it all begins by causing a scene that turns what should've been a private spying into a shitshow!
"You said you'd come alone!" Leslie shouted as she kicked the table backwards making the boy singer guy flip back and looking (in Peters opinion needs more work on the squat) playful serious.
"You're right. I am Black Ops" Extending a hand for an electric baton to formulate in his hand. He swung it once unnecessarily dramatically
"And you're right," Leslie grinned and removed her jacket to reveal a tech suit like some plaid Tron like electric outfit "I am the smartest one here." The mechanism on her back glowed electricity. Oh great, an Electro ripoff.
Peter and Lois had already jumped out and as soon as Peter was making quick calculations on how to de-escalate the situation Lois stared at somewhere and declared.
"I see the detonator." She looked back at Peter while Leslie fought the black ops, "You start taking pictures" She then started running towards the steps that Peter felt stupid and careless that he should've seen coming. Spider sense was going off but he can make things on the fly but too many cameras and people. Not the right time or moment to slip away.
"Lois, wait, I've.." He felt the woman who had just kicked off the Merc and he could tell she didn't want to kill him, only seriously hurt him as he felt that there was still some restraint left.
Peter's eyes narrowed and his breathing slowed and looked straight into her eyes, he relaxed his shoulders and let his body tilt upwards yet relevant and raised his hands, the look in her eyes got slightly confused as Peter slid into a calm non-violent defense.
"Leslie, listen to me. Look at the guy standing next to you. Look at his tactical gear. He's not a buyer—he's an extraction agent. The second you hand over that tech, you become a loose end. You don't want to do this. If you detonate the grid, the federal charges escalate from grand larceny to domestic terrorism. There is a very good reason to get out of this before it all blows us to hell."
Leslie blinks, then a smile comes across her face and she laughs. Lois is far away and disables a useless remote and looks back at them. Her green coat rustled, her eyes staring in alarm, amazement and fear.
"Kid, gotta hand it to you for your moxy but," She bunched up her fists and smacked them into each other causing a lightning surge that voltage her hair and the surrounding pavement. "I have all the power here." Her grin was not reassuring, Clark you better get here fast because Spider Sense is tingling "So I think I'll just go with the blow it all to hell"
But it wasn't coming from her.
A Slash, Peters vision saw the white haired idiot slashed at a power core. Peter had his arms cross in front of him as he braced for the impact.
A white Electromatic Pulse covered his eyes as he was launched into the air. Hearing the cry of his name by a distraught and screaming Lois.
Peter came to and twisted into the air where there was a sidestreet where there were no witnesses or cameras, landing and covering behind the dumpster he pulled off his clothes to reveal the red and blue web shooters out and ready. Taking out a fabric of white lenses and smooth red black lines Peter Parker put it on his head.
And it was Spiderman's turn to play.
_
Lois was going to punch someone today. Preferably the lightning chick who had too much of an ego and high mind to realise the perfectly good reason not to mess with Alien Tech and deescalate a situation she created!
Oh wait a second it was that discarded bum from a failed boy band she used to(still listens at times) listen to when she was young and impressionable. He gets a solid right hook and she gets a right hook and they all get a left hook for extra measure.
No one messes with her underlings like this! No one messes with the Lanes!
So for all the screaming and running pedestrians and the two morons who were duking it out in the plaza and the lightning storm of someone reaching the Avatar State her first instinct is not to rush into danger.
She was rushing around helping people escape and looking desperately for her boy.
"Please be safe, please for the love of god be safe"
She checked when she regained her sight after brief white sight, her sense tingling and her body felt like a lump of iron dropped into her stomach until she shook it off like a dog expelling water. She looked for exactly 12 seconds, until a shadow came over her that started with a yell. She wasn't looking up, she was looking around the ground for signs of debris, a shadow…no don't finish that thought.
THWIP!
CRASH!
She looked up and saw a smiling caped man in a red and blue suit flying carrying a half sliced bus. That was carried by webs. Lots of Webs. So it was a surreal and heartwarming sight.
It was also the most beautiful thing ever.
"Lo.." Superman stumbled his words briefly (she felt it was very familiar for some reason) "..Miss. Are you alright" He said with absolute sincere warmth that made her cheeks flushed briefly before she focused.
"Superman! My friend Peter-"
"He's alright mam!" A young cheerful and bold voice said out of her peripheral vision that a man in red underoos and cool white lenses for eyes was perched on top of the bus in a crouched position. "He just had a fall, he's resting"
"Spiderman! Oh thank god!" She immediately got out her recorder "Comment for the Daily Planet!"
Spiderman twisted his head and shouted a warning that Superman took heed moving out of the way of a lightning strike. They both flew and swung towards the danger and destruction.
"Or maybe we can talk after this!"
_
"You!" Leslie Williams (Spiderman will now refer to her as Electro-lite) made the sizzling aura of electric death and magnetic pulling of objects to her field to throw at the two superheroes.
"ME!" Spiderman flipped over and put things in safe spaces. "Gotta say fewer calories, half the threat level of the original"
"What!?" She actually stalled briefly which works to Spiderman's advantage as he goes with his plan with junior partner Superman floated a bit closer, unsure of what to make of this but focused on the task at hand.
"Uhh..Spiderman I don't think we should.." He tried to sound authoritative..
"Electro-lite! That's what I'm calling you! It fits, it rolls off the tongue" Spiderman twisted his finger in the air. "It basically describes your whole screaming gyaru shock jock screaming for attention"
Down below the white haired merc had to bite back a smirk at the roasting going above him.
"You..little.." Electro-lite charged up as her hair went up in static and her eyes glowed blue lightning. The violent blue energy sizzled the air as she looked beyond pissed off. "Insect!" She threw her arms sending out thunderstrikes to which Spiderman jumped and spun in the air aerodynamic-ly while Superman used superspeed and tried a calming gesture.
"The back!"
"What?" Clark shouted throughout the noise.
"The power core!" Dodging a clearly irate Electro-lite charged car. "The thing is still attached to her spine but it hasn't pierced the bone" A barrel roll jump out of the way of a pole. "You need to get close to her and destroy it"
Superman would have a lot to say about the situation at hand but damn it this was getting too much. He needed to put a stop to this now..
"I'll distract her!"
And Clark would definitely have some words to say to that later one..
"You know I can hear you two idiots right!?"
"As if we need to worry about a stressed out buggy overglorified phone charging Tron cosplayer!"
Leslie Williams eyes went incandescent with blue lighting rage and roared out causing a surge in her body. Spider sense was tingling slightly, a calm before storm as what was happening could only mean things were about to get Critical.
Superman took the opportunity for superspeed, he had a target and this woman was clearly losing control of her own power. Appearing in a flash, too fast for her to follow he reached out and grasped the power crystal and pulled.
Which was almost a mistake as she cried out, blue light enveloping the area as Clark began to see
Warships in space, red laser fire, explosions
A green field, human soldiers, fleeing from destruction, burning and smoke. Fear.
Robots, the same make as the dock ones, red pylons and crystals.
Peter saw something that and something else
A beautiful matronly woman, grey haired and carrying a bundle on a dying exploding beautiful blocky minimalism, triangles and sphere world, a brown slash white haired silver fox of a man with a kickass eyepatch taking the baby. Black haired and put him in the futuristic rocket and firing the mechanism for the Last Son of Krypton to escape.
Into the fire. The grey haired woman ghost reached out for her son who was flying into the dark.
She felt she could follow him, a surreal moment in the darkness of space. When she was pulled elsewhere and nowhere. And saw in the mote of her eye…
A Spider
Holy..Cow.
Eyes blinking, Superman held Electro-Lite in his arms and settled her down. Descending to Earth in a measured sedate pace. Placing the unconscious woman on the bench carefully. Looking at the damage and burning. Super-Speed repairing and melding with his great strength.
Spiderman swung around to check for anyone injured and only saw very few onlookers who stared bright eyed and wondered at them.
It felt..nice not to be looked at with fear and misplaced hate. Not like he couldn't handle it or anything.
Fire was cleared by Superman super-breath and how many powers does this guy have!? Spiderman just realised he had his hair swept back and allowed himself to look solid so oh crap he can pull off no glasses look.
"So..young man" He did not just say that "Do you have..any idea where a young intrepid photographer named Peter Parker is"
Spiderman looked at him and wondered. This is what he calls subtle!?
"Superman!" And here comes Lois Lane with her recording device but then thought better of it and as soon as she put it away she realised the two men were gone.
"Lois!" A voice called out from the distance, a bedraggled and ruffled Peter carrying his Argus and looking around furtively as though there could still be danger around. "I've got the photos and-"
He was swept up in a bone crushing hug.
Peter felt nice.
Then he felt a punch in the arm.
"OW!" That hurt way more than the singe Electro-lite gave him.
"What the hell were you thinking!" Her small size suddenly looked like a giant up close as she put his head in his space "You could've been killed when you pulled that stunt!"
Peter blinked.
"I-I had it-I had it handled"
"Handled..?" Her eyes went to slits.
Realising this was about to turn into ground zero for Lois Apocalypse Peter pressed a button on his camera. Clear, high definition shots of Spiderman swinging, Superman flying and Electro-Lite throwing a hissy fit. All dynamic perfectly captured dynamics.
Which soothed the beast as her eyes widened and she let out a squeal!
"We did it! We got the pictures! We got the story! We got the-"
_
At the office..
"The scoop!" Perry White had settled the photographs down. The afternoon sun blazing in this strangely van gogh shaded world.
Lois yelled and roared in triumph! Peter blinked.
"I..honestly thought-" He tried to do stutter and just whispered "you were going to say we didn't get the scoop"
"Why would you think that?" He put his chin in his hand and looked sideways at them. Lois had gasped and shook Peter
"Why would you jinx us!" Shaking him like a boba doll that betrayed the fun it was meant to deliver.
"Lois, don't damage the only reason you even got the photos" Those words seem a bit too carefully chosen "I don't want my best intern photographer acquiring vertico sickness pathogen"
Lois let go and looked abashed at the stern yet cheery lecture Mr White gave them. Perry had the phone on.
"Stop the presses, we got a brand new story and I want newspapers printed on the double! Yes! Do you know what double means" He turned it off and looked at them. Something happened that Lois never in her life thought she would ever see.
A smile. At them.
Her eyes quickly darted outside and there were no four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
"You did good. Both of you"
Lois was so tempted to say: Stop the presses Perry White congratulated me (and by extension Peter) with a honest to god smile! She just managed to hold it in preening.
Peter looked as though he wanted to curl up like a caterpillar in his oversized hoodie, looked at Lois and gave a shy smile at her success.
Lois will continue that line of thinking discussion after they leave the office. With subtlety,
"Now go on, I've got work to do and you both need a rest from today's adventures" He leaned back and looked at them expectantly as the two felt the pleasing bask of their success.
"What are you doing!? Don't just stand there, get out" He said loudly and somehow didn't shout.
Outside the closed door Lois put her arm around Peter and pulled him into a crushing side hug, Peter blushed and carefully adjusted himself not to break out of Lois grip.
God even though she wasn't a masseuse she knew a knotted shoulder when she felt one. It was one of the things she helped dad out when mom..when mom couldn't do it.
"So.." She said slowly.
"So.." Peter drew carefully.
"When were you going to tell me you were studying to be a secret agent"
Peter spluttered and got out of her reach.
"Wait what-what do-you-uh mean" Lois could feel the forced stutter sounding just about natural. She didn't like it.
"The whole Keith David thing?"
"Keith David..?"
"The guy from the Negotiator."
Peter's eyes looked askance and was about to open his mouth to auto-correct her then thought better about it and shut his mouth.
"I…think you might be getting your movies mixed up."
Determined not to be swayed by his pathetic turnabout into obscure pop-culture she focused on the real objective. Mainly validation. Her eyes took on a soft look and held his hand which he looked at with puzzlement.
"That was an extremely brave and reckless thing you did today Peter" Peter's face took on a look that was far away, bittersweet and misty. She held it warmly and rubbed his palm with her thumb. She somehow made herself look taller by looking at him at eye level and practicing her Jang Pause: The gentle lowering of one's energy (her energy in fact) and being silent and gentle touching.
Peter felt his shoulders relaxing and he looked as though he couldn't determine what was happening yet physically he looked as though he was about to fall asleep.
"I'll walk you home"
He looked a bit..startled at that.
"Oh no its no problem"
"Peter." Her voice spoke softly and he stopped himself. "Let me get you home"
He looked like some lost little kid who was confused and teary eyed and happy (restrained) that an adult was there to protect him. Her insides coiled slightly and then she remembered.
"We've got to tell Clark!"
Peter's eyes widened and he nodded vigorously.
"Yes, uh Clark he's bound to recover from the flu at this moment"
"Uhh I think Flus take longer than that"
"I mean cold! Yes Clark is a big guy. He can recover pretty fast."
You seem to recover fast yourself
She kept that thought to herself. Walking forward out of the building while holding Peters hand to her side, her presence a blanket on him.
He didn't let go.
_
The Apartment..
"Hey oh Lois!" Superman, still in outfit, had just subtly opened the window to get inside and found his buzzing phone until he realised what he said out loud and looked embarrassed mortified as he looked to the side. "Hey oh Lois?"
"Hey o to you" Lois voice echoed in his eardrums to him sounded like a canary bird (even though it was the afternoon and not morning but he can be poetic now he earned it!) "Open your front door."
"Uh, one sec!" WIth a quick burst of superspeed cleaned up his room and changed out of his clothes into his normal ones, put Superman in suit and was just about to open the door when he remembered to tousle his hair and put on glasses. Open door and..
"Suprise!" By god it is a great awesome surprise every time she walks into his life. His heart beating, the air feeling a lightning current of heat from her presence. Peter followed her quiet as a mouse, like a child who was looking at his entrapped hand in wonder as though it was in hand. He didn't know how to get out of it which was all sorts of cute in Clarks eyes. Lois turned back to Peter "Can you point me to the kettle?"
Peter was finally released and chuckled and rubbed his head "I'm not twelve Lois I can brew myself coffee"
"Daechu-cha" She pulled a packet out of her chest pocket and tossed it to Peter who caught it quickly like a professional (did Peter play baseball or something), Clark wondered if she was a walking cupboard. "Take this, open it, put it in a cup and pur boiled water" Her smile became soft and Clark felt like she would be a great mother "No buts Peter hoonbae"
"Peter Hoonb-what now?"
"It means I'm in charge of you right now," She turned directly to him and pointed with a look that was both maternal and fiercely grounding. "Now settle down" She put her hand down and looked at him with care "Can you please do that for me?"
With the wilting look Peter was giving and the embarrassed blush he nodded and scuttled away to the back. Looking at the sachet containing dried Korean dates, ginger, cinnamon and honey like it was a strange alien marvel he had to decipher. Clark felt tension release from his shoulders staring at his friend.
"So." Lois clapped her hands and moved to the sofa where Clark was all too happy to take the seat next to her. "We got the story!" She whispered excitedly to him. "Perry literally stopped the presses," She looked at him with a bit of sadness that he really wished he had the superpower to wipe it away instantly "I wish you you'd been there to see it with me and Peter"
"I wish I could've been there with you. Too"
She looked downward and regained a determined expression "I still can't believe we pulled it off." She put her head up and putted her hands to the sides of her head "I mean, we did, but I can't believe we pulled it off"
"Well, I knew you would make it happen"
"You just want in on the byline" She put her head back, eyes closed with a smug smile. Clark turned towards her, completely serious and edging closer to her space.
(The kettle was already boiled. The contents in and hot liquid poured in. A boy looked at the two with forlorn melancholy and rested into the darkness. His eyes tracking the movements, the lightning mood of the afternoon sun's rays pouring in over his side, ironic that they were having their moment in the shadows)
"No, it;s the truth. There was never any doubt in my mind that you'd find Superman." She looked at him, face flushing as the sincere goodness of Clark Kents golden retriever earnest eyes peered into her soul with nerd glasses giving the most adorkable wholesome gaze.
Oh wow, that look should be illegal! She thought.
"Because you, Lois Lane. Are extraordinary"
Oh my heart! Don't fumble me now!
"And uh," He looked embarrassed side glance as though trying to dig his suddenly empty bowl of kibble praises and cheeses "driven and smart and funny..and..and smart"
Oh thank god I can deal with this!
"You said that already" She smiled at him and the cute blush adorned his pinchable cheeks. He chuckled and scratched his head.
"Well, I stand by it"
Lois would like to press on that, she could feel Clark would like to and..
…How did we get so close together!?
Both breathing each others scent, the midwestern hayseed flavour of his shampoo melding with her sunflower oil and her violet purple eyes meeting his beautiful solid blue. Lips opening slightly to let air out and intermingle in a tangible meeting of steam twirling.
Both were atomic red as they stood up straight in their seats like two meerkats triggered in stone statue lookouts. Silence..
"Well ugh" Clark coughed and wondered aloud "I wonder how Peter is doing with the tea." In a sing-song voice that wanted the awkwardness to be over.
"Just finished brewing"
YAH!
Lois jumped heroically (and she will write an entire piece defending against SLANDER) from the sofa at the same time as Clark. Reorinating herself on the seat she turned around and glared at the intruder behind them.
"What did I tell you about sitting down quietly!?" She whispered angrily like a cat who was knocked off course from catching the canary.
Peter smiled and took out a newspaper.
"Fli-I mean your source" Why did he sound familiar with that name!? "Gave me an advance copy of tomorrow's paper." He said warmly.
Lois' eyes went to the paper and read the lines.
"'Daily Planet confirms, the Superman and Spiderman are real!'" Her eyes closed for joy. "We did it!"
"...Read the byline" Peter said flatly.
Lois opened her eyes and did so, her eyes tracking the little letters as thought deciphering an ancient language that was pulling her into a malicious knock knock who's there joke of a surprise
"By Cat Grant, Ronnie Troupe and Steve Lombard"
….
Lois had found herself standing up with the eyes widening into saucers and her face twisted into a rubberband drawl of outrage
"WHAT!"
_
Somewhere far away, deep underground.
Leslie Willis was being electrocuted by a smug asshole who was behind a two way glass while asking questions that she glibly told the truth. Then electrocuted when he thought she wasn't telling the truth. So Asshole all the way then.
Giving panicked fear to the asshole seemed to abate him somewhat as she asked who are you people.
"That's easy," Why did she get the image of a housebroken man in a green sweatshirt!? "We are the good guys!"
"Now tell us what you know..about Superman and Spiderman.."
_
_
Adventures of A Normal Man Part 2
_
The Past…
Darkness.
Chaos
Cold
So Cold
Blue Light..
"Saluton, eta ulo"
Warmth..Familiar and yet different…
"Vi venis longan vojon, ĉu ne?"
Other words were said. Beautiful words of an unknown source. Like how a baby brain could compute an otherworldly yet protective source of heat. He could remember the word Petro. It sounded right to him.
A soft humming of a lullaby. Soothing, peaceful and so warm..
When was the last time he felt so warm..it seemed like he never knew it until just now,
"Dormu, mia eta stelo, dormu nun.
La mallumo ne povas vundi vin.
Mi tenas vin sekura en mia koro.
Dormu, mia fileto, dormu nun."
Peter Parker heard the most wonderful sound as he remembered red and blue. An arachnid symbol on top of a large 'S'.
"...por ĉiam"
For All Time
_
Peter and Clarks Apartment.
Peter Parker woke up, breath laboured yet still. Blanket wrapped securely on his top bunk that he swore didn't have an extra blanket and warm heatpack. His eyes adjusted to the dark, listened closely to Clark's careful warm breathing that were kinda snores which he wouldn't give his roommate shit for. He looked around and found the ladder going down. With careful acrobatic skill he slid down, looked over Clark and felt a sense of exasperated annoyance at his sleeping without a care in the world face. Peter turned around to see his personalised super clock that will ring a soothing rhythm before stopping so it doesn't 'accidentally' break.
5:00 AM
Good time to get to work.
…Why did it feel like someone was giving him an uncomfortable maternal stare with a tapping of the finger on arm while it was folded..
Peter shook himself from such things and opened the door quietly. There was a vacant space for storage, on the wall was hidden fake wall he put in at one time when his roommates were busy. A container was a red and blue suit. His hand touched it and he felt its hot touch even though it had no residual heat. He took the wall off gently, took out the container. I opened it and looked at it closely in the moonlight.
He put it next to his walking clothes. Putting them under them.
He walked to his corner of the room, turned on the small lights and began setting his workplace in order.
Clark is a heavy sleeper so no worries about it.
…Why did he feel a huff and a tut tut from a maternal presence that was grinning good naturedly as though the most hilarious disciplinary action was about to be handed down…
_
1 Hour and 20 minutes later…
Peter was sitting at his desk pondering, in his own way pondering meant welding together tech, suit fabrics, staring and clicking keyboard of blue screen of stitched together laptop which it looked it came front the 2010s(thank you weirdly advance other dimension humanity for throwing away perfectly viable tech) sometimes peering over the draws where an dispatcher was. The flat wood being a canvass for his cluttered mind filtering out and utilised by drawing geographical maps of the city, distances, diameters, length of time and distance to the nearest building and the fastest transit tunnels in the City.
All in a fluffy comfy pajama set donated by one Martha Kent. With tractors on them.
His fingers traced the maps, his fingers touching the size of his mammoth books of the titles pertaining to lawful studies, the big Argus with little pin me notes of lighting ratios, shutter speeds and composition. His eyes always on the job, on the task, on the responsibi-
CLICK!
The light shone brightly on his desk. Peter Parker blinked and wondered why Spider-Sense did not go off when his stuff was moved aside: laptop shut, books, tech and maps neatly put away in a pile of reserved corners of space.
And lo and behold Clark Kent in ridiculous flannel pajamas with tractors on them standing like a behemoth of wholesome goodness that scared the crap out of Peter Parker. The giant man had the most carefree grin in the whole world and ruffled his head.
"Hey Clark I was right in the middle of-!" A fervent squawk of indignation.
"Table needs to be clear for the most important meal of the day" Was defeated by the unmovable object of Clark Kent's no nonsense wholesome goodness. Peter refused to back down.
"C'mon man I just need to finish the…finish the.." Peter tried to find the words "The Posse Commitaus Law on Bagel Usage in Reasonable Belief in Product Liability of DUI and Chemical Testing Defense" There take that!
Silence.
Clark Kent used puppy dog eyes.
It was super effective!
Peter Parker slumped and eat using cutlery that was gingerly handed to him by Clark who gave him a soothing rubbing hand on his back. Peter felt his knots melt away and enjoyed the food as the sun was about to break out and the alarm clock that Peter had cobbled together ringed.
A day for new adventure
It would drown out Clark Kent's muffled shuffling mountainous shoulders as he peered over the skillet or roasted hot pot. The sound buffering the giggles his Meta Roomate had.
…It wasn't terrible.
Then his eyes widened as he realised he was not at his desk but the table. Where not a breakfast but a living structural hazard.
Three over-easy eggs, edges perfectly crisped in bacon fat.
A mountain of hash browns, golden brown and shredded perfectly.
Four thick strips of hickory-smoked bacon and two sausage links.
A stack of three fluffy pancakes, dripping with real maple syrup.
Besides this great alien sight was a giant oversized mug, a thick cloud of steam like a warm mist concealing an oncoming smell of cocoa and roasted marshmallows.
"What..what is this?" Peter gasped out loud trying to sound regal and normal. Then his stomach went out and betrayed him by a roar so loud it rumbled the silverware.
"An all American breakfast!" Clark boasted sliding into the chair next to him with his own portion. "And hot chocolate. Extra milk" With a sparkle and homespun American Cheer.
"Can I..just get some coffee, my brains fried" Peter tried to hold onto dignity as he reached for the coffee pot that betrayed him as well by its emptiness.
"Coffee can come later," Clark firmly put Peters hand away from the empty traitorous pot and moved the wavery hand to the mug. "Youre body needs calcium and real fats, not liquid anxiety. Drink. the. Cocoa."
And so Peter did, the first tentative sip was like a balm to his soul. The fork piercing bacon piece to deliver to mouth and inserting a rush of carbohydrates into his bloodstream hit him like a jackhammer.
He chewed slowly, his eyes glistening and Peter Parker mumbles something that made Clark Kent blinked owlishily.
"What was that?" The big bound to be Alien God asked ignoring the breach of manners from his erstwhile small defenseless munchkin of a friend.
"It's good" Peter looked to the side bashfully before turning to Clark in squinting defeated eyes. "It's really good"
"Told you" And Just Like That Clark glowed like the golden retriever who found and caught the best stick in the park. "Eat up. Every single bite. I'm checking the plate before we hit the bullpen"
Peter Parker cursed his Parker Luck! Damn Clark Kent for being such a swell guy!
_
The Daily Planet…
Archives…
Damn Lois Lane for being an observant hyper-manic gremlin!
"I Give You." A flourish dramatic ensemble of the magician and terrifying act dressed in her simple work uniform. "The Murder Board!"
A whiteboard of clipped photos, stringing together like some macabre stalkers deluding themselves on the Deep State had nothing on the sheer madness in front of Peter who was dressed in his baggy clothes and other stitched together pants.
To Clarify:
A faded, slightly oversized gray t-shirt featuring a retro, peeling logo of the Midtown High School Physics Club. It has a tiny grease stain near the hem from when he was tinkering with his school equipment (read:web-fluid formula) in a motel sink.
A heavily washed, slightly frayed navy-and-maroon plaid flannel shirt worn completely open over the t-shirt. The cuffs are rolled up haphazardly, revealing wrists that look lean but hide terrifying wrist (read:spider)-strength.
A pair of thrifted, dark-wash denim jeans that are a little too loose around the waist, held up by a cheap nylon belt. The hems are slightly frayed from dragging along the New York pavements.
A pair of beat-up, old-school high-top Converse sneakers with mismatched laces—one white, one a faded red he found in a discount bin.
While Clark Kent was dressed in his neat slightly ruffled work suit with tie and glasses. Looking Bug eyed and white.
Because the Murder Board had photos. Big clear photos of Dockyard, giant robots, webs, laser beams, destruction and the high definition of IMAX Cinema thanks to yours truly Peter Parker.
"...How?" Peter said in gobsmacked terror that came out in a squeak.
"Glad you asked a newbie!" Louis pointed dramatically at Peter "Thanks to the photos you gave me and being inspired by your due diligence I looked up the systematic records on the other buildings surveillance network" she struck her chest out proudly with closed eyes.
Peter blinked.
"You told me that was extra credit on the Mercs Transport Schedule! How did you even.." Peter smacked his forehead. "Right you jumped back and forth on bandwidth to reconfigure the setting, wait a minute" He opened his hand to stare at her "Does that mean..?" He was too terrified to speak out.
Clark was also terrified to speak out as the dawning horror of the unveiling of his (he hopes the other guy was not who he thought he was please god oh merciful god) identity.
"Correct!" Lois grinned loud and with a triumphant yell she put out two pictures. Peter and Clark took a breath, and exhaled.
Good news: the photo just happened to be on the side covering their heads.
Bad news that made Peter sucked in a breath as though he accidentally swallowed a fishbone.
The one of the web slinging men was positioned in a flying crouch which on threadbare pants looked about to burst.
Peter's summation in his mind was.
Oh my god…is my ass that vivid!!!????
"Superman and Spiderman!" Lois Lane put her hands on her hips preening at her accomplishment in presentation as though it was the guaranteed winner in a class activity.
Clark Kent's summation in his mind was.
Oh thank you god that she is pretty and not observant at the best of times!
"This is our next big story boys!" Lois pulled out the paper with the byline of Clark, Lois and Peter which looked.
"Is this filled?" Clark said nonchalantly.
"It is on a plaque, which will have a place of honour in our Murder Room!" She laid out the incriminating evidence in the base of the board. Elucidating the various photos of costumed vigilantes, alien conspiracies and was that a spider with nuclear warning labels on them. What goes through her amazing head?
Clark Kent will not curse god, he will however…
God Why did you make this wonderful woman so observant at the worst of times!
Peter didn't have the heart to point out it was the Archives while looking like someone walked over his grave. Clark Kent had the heart to be happy for her while sweating on the outside like someone exposed his secret lost and found baseball cards(they were missing and lost from trucks and he would dare anyone to dispute it in court!).
"Lois. This is..This just came out?" Clark looked wonderingly at the paper hoping to take his mind off the sheer kerfuffle that they stumbled into.
"The first copy!" She yelled with stars in her eyes and hugged both of the men in her strong small body grip. "You are my two favourite people in the world right now"
God she smells and feels nice! Clark thought secretly.
Too close! Must. remain. Stoic. And. ghostly! Peter's thought ran on a static feedback loop.
"What about Jimmy?" Clark asked pointedly while blushing at the contact. Peter was just staring into the void.
"Jimmy can come later" Lois tittered as though it was no great worry. Jimmy Olsen was on another adventure trying to find a place called Gorilla City which she would give him a pass on. She gave a lot of passes to the endearing conspiracy nut friend who somehow got more than 50 followers in the past month.
Which brings up to the next point on the next investigation. With a lightning flash twirl she slapped a picture of a blond Gyaru with jacket and glasses and a whole lot of rebel mercenary look.
"We need to find this woman. We find her. We find..."
"The tech that is dangerous to civilians" Clark raised his finger upwards.
"The optimised location of the deal that's about to go down so we can alert the proper authorities!" Peter synchronised the vibe.
"Superman and Spiderman!" Lois proclaimed then took a thoughtful expression "Yes those two but more importantly the two I said and.." She gave side-eye to Peter. "What makes you sound so sure she needs to do a deal."
"I-I mean" Peter tries to do the stuttering but Lois was on the roll and she looked like she wouldn't take stuttering as answer, "It makes sense right, judging by the mercs arrest and the recent chatter in criminal patterns by observation she's clearly in it for money. With the authorities on her tail and the disbandment of the group she was in, she needs to salvage something out of this mess and from clear viewing of her Mercs…mishandling" He said the last part out bitterly (oh thats telling something) "It shows she doesn't have much of a responsible head on her shoulders meaning she either tries to get out or make a deal, either way" Peter crossed his arms.
"She could just as easily be taken in by cops or.."
"..Or..?" Lois was pressing in dangerously close. Clark Kent was looking closer and my god why was he so close!
"...Illegal government operations" Peter said silently looking like he swallowed a lemon while staring pointedly at Murder Board. Now before Lois could press on that clear cry for help opening (in her opinion) Clark Kent cleared his throat and went forward.
"I think Peter is on to something here Lois" Clark said firmly, moving his hand to point at Leslie "If this is something that could endanger lives this would have to be cause for Judicial Matters first before Journalism."
"Oh Clark, Clark My Sweet Summer Child" Peters eyes widened as though he was told the moon actually was made of cheese at Lois suave phrase and moving her hands throwing them back and forth. "The chances of things escalating that high is about nil to zero" She leaned forward to look coquettishly at him. "You've just got to trust my gut," She tilted her head slightly "You do trust me on this right?"
Clark's gentle, reasonable giant figure looked stunned as a deer in headlights then looked as abash as a bear being caught eating out honey. He scratched his head looking slightly away before answering directly to her.
"With my life"
Peter stared blinking at this overbright giant walking mega nuke wrapped up in a pliant cuddly teddy bear.
"So it's settled" Lois leaned back, went and put on her coat. "Besides if you knew these two amazingly gifted people going around helping people without recognition or wanting reward..don't you want to know who they are?"
Clark stilled. Peter stilled. The former with wonder, worry and confusion. The latter with sadness, self pity and empty gaze.
"I..I do" Clark spoke aloud looking briefly at the board and then side-glance back to Peter who shuffled deeper into his hoodie.
"..Maybe they don't want to be found" Peter said softly. Lois noticed this and gently patted him on the shoulder which shocked Peter with his eyes searching hers.
"Of course they don't want to be found Peter, they are just waiting for a fashionable entrance!"
…"Excuse me?" Peter Parker said flatly. Clark was interested in where this was going.
"C'mon!" Lois laid out her hands to the side "Two people with extraordinary powers in those hand me down thrift store threads are bound to stand out like a sore front I mean do you know how many homeless people in Metropolis could pull an Olympic Bodybuilder and Runner without fabric needing a new stitch every time they roll their hips!"
Clark felt self conscious about that and actually very blushing pleased that she noticed while holding his hand to his chest and discreetly looking down. Peter looked as though someone told him he looked like a thirty year old hipster trying to blend in modern everyday life and the guy looked down on himself feeling a bit self conscious.
"Though it is worrying" Lois put her hand to her chin "Spiderman looks a bit on the thin side I mean it looks like he survives on coffee and spite alone" Peter felt chills and covered himself sweating and hoping a meteor crashed because this was humiliating. "And Superman looks like he can't stop himself from flying aimlessly around like a dog trying to catch a ball the owner keeps out of reach as though if he tries hard enough he could catch it."
Clark felt she was baiting him somehow and was about to tell it was first time fighting robots before he realised he needed to do something to get out of here!
COUGH!
COUGH!
"Sorry Lois it appears I am coming down with something I need to get back home and have that soup I prepared. Remember to stay out of trouble until I get back bye!" A staccato of noise and in the wind Clark rushed out.
"...Well I guess our trios down to duo" Lois clapped her hands as though it was no big deal but if someone listened closely they heard the undercurrent of sadness. Peter was caught up in the situation and patted her shoulder.
"Im sure he'll be back in no time"
"As soon as we publish"
Peter blinked and a terrible feeling of doom went through him.
"Lois.." He said with dread "Clark told us not to get into trouble"
"We are not getting into trouble my young understudy" She beamed at Peter "Trouble just happens to be where we are going"
"That is literally a faux pass on what we agreed to Clark!"
"Did anyone say the word 'yes'" She had her eyes closed and spoke with the seriousness of a great philosopher asking the deepest question. Peter wilted under the adamantium will of Lois Lane.
"No.."
"Then lets go!" Her hand reached out and pulled Peter Parker into trouble.
_
Outside into the beautiful city outskirts that we all hope to god nothing goes wrong…
Peter and Lois speed run the outskirts of the city where the sun was shining and the birds were singing and Peter thought how the hell did we get here.
"How the hell did we get here?" Lois asked the question out loud as she stretched herself out. The sea air drifted right into their nostrils as they hitchhiked on trams, rolled down roller skates and jogged the hills. How and Why Lois never questioned Peters stamina is beyond him be he will just roll with it and just go wherever this will lead to.
"Physcially or mentally"
"Rhetorical," She pointed a hand up in the air pointing, "Spiritually"
"I thought you weren't the one who brought into the new age pseudo-science?" Peter kicked a rock off while checking his Argus, recalibrating the optics while he was actually scrubbing the thing and looking pensively at nothing.
"Destiny"
Peter looked up with raised eyebrow,
"The horoscope said it was cancer?"
"Don't be an obtuse young intern!" She pivoted to him.
"I'm only a year younger than you" He grumbled.
She immediately closed the distance to him inside his personal space.
"And that's why I!" Putting her hand magnanimously to her chest "Am your senior and you should listen to your senior before I lecture you on your sanitary upkeep"
"...I use the shower"
"..Your dressing in an overlarge shirt that makes you look like a starving skeleton wrapped in strings, spite and sheer desperation." She tapped her chin "What did Mr.White say? Oh yes he mistook you for a lost high schooler"
Peter's mouth fell open.
"It's…It builds character!"
"Sure," and she put her hands on his shoulders "And your multi-discipline got our names in the paper(Did she actually read the paper!? Thought Peter then realised yes she was caught up in the moment and decided yes she didn't) which I will then use to drag you kicking and screaming into taking care of yourself"
This was getting out of hand!...Wait..?
Peter Parker blinked once. Then twice.
"..What?"
Lois' face turned sombre and rubbed his shoulders and why did it feel so good and..pinched his cheeks.
"Ow! What was that for?" He backed away and clutched his sore face. Who does that?
"Nothing" She put up her hands. "It's just that you're really stiff in the shoulders" She then patted his left shoulder once. "I can put in for a friend of mine near my place"
"Lois I-"
"Peter." She smiled. A terrifying person will not take no for an answer "Do I have to cuff you?"
"...Why do you have a cuff?" Peter believed she had one and had to ask.
"For Journalism!" She pulled him along by his shirt and why did he allow himself to be bullied like this!? How does anyone survive her!? She pointed to the seabed that was just over the corner.
"Now tell me what you see"
"Sand. It's everywhere, get used to it"
"Excuse me" She eloquently uttered the words, seriously giving him a side eye. Both were standing side to side on the road looking at what appears to be the empty shipping container.
"She would have to ditch the boat as she wouldn't have contact out in the sea, too risky for border control" He said firmly. Lois nodded and encouraged him to continue with her hand. "Flamebird visually tracked the boat to this location which means" His eyes searched the sand…
Peter suddenly looked alert, his hairs bristled and his senses went haywire as he surveyed the area and his eyes darted to look for tracks, thinking like a thief who is trying to get into the city through this path and it leads to…
"Old Tunnels, like the ones for underpass before the city built over them"
A pat on the back and..
Wait, did he just say those words out loud!
Lois Lane was speeding into the tunnel and Peter Parker catched up to her and realised something that he really should've learned earlier.
Lois Lane is a homing missile and he was the one tied to her. Why, thought Peter Parker, do I get pushed around by passionate women!?
Somehow he swore he could hear snorts of laughter from both male and female from somewhere far away.
_
"You know Peter, I believe we are having a connection here," Tools out, leap forward, disable and back to her pace. "Like two peas in a pod only this case we would've liked the third wheel," Jump and scoop and disable. "Like a wavelength, like I'm the leader, Clark is the beautiful muscle and your the scrappy sidekick"
THWIP!
THWIP!
Thank god she was talking while he webbed.
"...Scrappy?"
"Don't get me wrong you're going to need help, particularly" She looks behind her with her own flashlight while he looks as deadpan as he could be. Turning around forwards she continued talking as he quickly jumped around and disabled bombs at fantastic speeds. "If you just learn to be more aggressive, be more stubborn.."
"Not me.."
Lois stopped, silent and turned to him slowly. She looked at him in a way that made him feel self-conscious. Her eyes took on a soft sheen and her shoulders settled in a relaxed stance, her posture radiating a safe distance.
"..If there is anything you want to get off your chest..I'm here to listen" Gentleness, her tone carried such gentleness in the dark.
The temperature felt suddenly warm over a sudden, the seagulls and waves had long since echoed far in the back. Peter scratched his head and gave her an easy smile that Lois was familiar with.
A painful familiarity with its fakeness.
"Oh it's fine Ms Lane-"
"Lois."
Peter stilled. His posture froze as though an iceprick had gone through his sternum.
"I'm sorry what"
"Lois." She walked a step forwards, he was just taller than her by a few centimetres "My friends call me Lois"
"...Lois" Peter went on and put his hand down and shrugged his shoulders and tried to maintain a facade of pleasant oh it's ok Queens bluff. "It's just a teenager drama, you know: Trying to pay rent, getting an internship, being on the ground with one's own feet." He waved a hand as though it was no big deal "It's just normal stuff"
He then continued to move forward to walk in front of her, confident that the last of the bombs were disabled.
"...Choosing to be alone is not Normal Peter"
Peter Parker stopped. He felt his heart skip a beat and turned towards her searching face.
"I'm not..alone" He said deflecting with confusion.
"You're right," She said, shaking her head and putting on a smile and walked up beside him and patted his back only this time it was a gentle thrawk! That he barely felt. "You have me, Clark and Flamebird!" She exclaimed.
"I'll..I'll take your word for it." Peter said, nodding until he felt his shoulder being tightened by this small terrifying woman.
"My word..Peter Parker," She gave him a closed eyes and twitching smile "Is the word of a Lane and when we mean things" He eyes opened and gave him a warm smile "We mean them"
Why was that both terrifying and heartwarming?
"Oh look, we're here!" She pointed the flashlight up to the manhole cover and the Spider Sense(Thank you Jimmy for leaving that strange tangent about Alien Geometry and Spider Zombies) tingled more than usual. Which Peter was actually thankful for.
Because surely the tense and stressful conversation he had with Lois could not be more dangerous than what they were about to face.
_
Evidently it would be hairsbreadth of a line.
Slowly pushing the manhole cover to gently see the sunlight of Metropolis Road, the moving pedestrians, birds, Cars which seem to be on slow hour. Oh look it's the Merc Woman and A strong looking lead singer of a boy band in tactical military gear.
"I planted explosives all over the city" Leslie Williams (who Peter found out through his not so legal hacking of Police Databases) "and I'm ready to blow this place sky high."
Peter went cold and still. His eyes focused on the two facial expressions, Leslie was confident and smirking and uncaring of how many people she would hurt, the man sitting opposite her had stopped grinning and looked serious.
"Go on"
"I lifted 10 containers of your tech with the robots"
Peter felt like punching himself, what the hell was he doing focusing on the internship. This was a grievous oversight because he didn't account for the woman to be this careful. She might have a dead man's switch which he hoped wherever his flying friend was he'd needed to come straight back. Peter had his phone out and set to call Clark making sure to not press cancel if the message is left on.
Now they just need to remain low and quiet and…
"Let me see!" Lois popped beside him like a meerkat who felt her partner was hogging the best morning air. Peter wondered why the hell Spider-Sense did not alert him to the obvious destruction of a perfect careful reconnaissance view!
"Them!" Leslie shouted in alarm. Seriously!?
So it all begins by causing a scene that turns what should've been a private spying into a shitshow!
"You said you'd come alone!" Leslie shouted as she kicked the table backwards making the boy singer guy flip back and looking (in Peters opinion needs more work on the squat) playful serious.
"You're right. I am Black Ops" Extending a hand for an electric baton to formulate in his hand. He swung it once unnecessarily dramatically
"And you're right," Leslie grinned and removed her jacket to reveal a tech suit like some plaid Tron like electric outfit "I am the smartest one here." The mechanism on her back glowed electricity. Oh great, an Electro ripoff.
Peter and Lois had already jumped out and as soon as Peter was making quick calculations on how to de-escalate the situation Lois stared at somewhere and declared.
"I see the detonator." She looked back at Peter while Leslie fought the black ops, "You start taking pictures" She then started running towards the steps that Peter felt stupid and careless that he should've seen coming. Spider sense was going off but he can make things on the fly but too many cameras and people. Not the right time or moment to slip away.
"Lois, wait, I've.." He felt the woman who had just kicked off the Merc and he could tell she didn't want to kill him, only seriously hurt him as he felt that there was still some restraint left.
Peter's eyes narrowed and his breathing slowed and looked straight into her eyes, he relaxed his shoulders and let his body tilt upwards yet relevant and raised his hands, the look in her eyes got slightly confused as Peter slid into a calm non-violent defense.
"Leslie, listen to me. Look at the guy standing next to you. Look at his tactical gear. He's not a buyer—he's an extraction agent. The second you hand over that tech, you become a loose end. You don't want to do this. If you detonate the grid, the federal charges escalate from grand larceny to domestic terrorism. There is a very good reason to get out of this before it all blows us to hell."
Leslie blinks, then a smile comes across her face and she laughs. Lois is far away and disables a useless remote and looks back at them. Her green coat rustled, her eyes staring in alarm, amazement and fear.
"Kid, gotta hand it to you for your moxy but," She bunched up her fists and smacked them into each other causing a lightning surge that voltage her hair and the surrounding pavement. "I have all the power here." Her grin was not reassuring, Clark you better get here fast because Spider Sense is tingling "So I think I'll just go with the blow it all to hell"
But it wasn't coming from her.
A Slash, Peters vision saw the white haired idiot slashed at a power core. Peter had his arms cross in front of him as he braced for the impact.
A white Electromatic Pulse covered his eyes as he was launched into the air. Hearing the cry of his name by a distraught and screaming Lois.
Peter came to and twisted into the air where there was a sidestreet where there were no witnesses or cameras, landing and covering behind the dumpster he pulled off his clothes to reveal the red and blue web shooters out and ready. Taking out a fabric of white lenses and smooth red black lines Peter Parker put it on his head.
And it was Spiderman's turn to play.
_
Lois was going to punch someone today. Preferably the lightning chick who had too much of an ego and high mind to realise the perfectly good reason not to mess with Alien Tech and deescalate a situation she created!
Oh wait a second it was that discarded bum from a failed boy band she used to(still listens at times) listen to when she was young and impressionable. He gets a solid right hook and she gets a right hook and they all get a left hook for extra measure.
No one messes with her underlings like this! No one messes with the Lanes!
So for all the screaming and running pedestrians and the two morons who were duking it out in the plaza and the lightning storm of someone reaching the Avatar State her first instinct is not to rush into danger.
She was rushing around helping people escape and looking desperately for her boy.
"Please be safe, please for the love of god be safe"
She checked when she regained her sight after brief white sight, her sense tingling and her body felt like a lump of iron dropped into her stomach until she shook it off like a dog expelling water. She looked for exactly 12 seconds, until a shadow came over her that started with a yell. She wasn't looking up, she was looking around the ground for signs of debris, a shadow…no don't finish that thought.
THWIP!
CRASH!
She looked up and saw a smiling caped man in a red and blue suit flying carrying a half sliced bus. That was carried by webs. Lots of Webs. So it was a surreal and heartwarming sight.
It was also the most beautiful thing ever.
"Lo.." Superman stumbled his words briefly (she felt it was very familiar for some reason) "..Miss. Are you alright" He said with absolute sincere warmth that made her cheeks flushed briefly before she focused.
"Superman! My friend Peter-"
"He's alright mam!" A young cheerful and bold voice said out of her peripheral vision that a man in red underoos and cool white lenses for eyes was perched on top of the bus in a crouched position. "He just had a fall, he's resting"
"Spiderman! Oh thank god!" She immediately got out her recorder "Comment for the Daily Planet!"
Spiderman twisted his head and shouted a warning that Superman took heed moving out of the way of a lightning strike. They both flew and swung towards the danger and destruction.
"Or maybe we can talk after this!"
_
"You!" Leslie Williams (Spiderman will now refer to her as Electro-lite) made the sizzling aura of electric death and magnetic pulling of objects to her field to throw at the two superheroes.
"ME!" Spiderman flipped over and put things in safe spaces. "Gotta say fewer calories, half the threat level of the original"
"What!?" She actually stalled briefly which works to Spiderman's advantage as he goes with his plan with junior partner Superman floated a bit closer, unsure of what to make of this but focused on the task at hand.
"Uhh..Spiderman I don't think we should.." He tried to sound authoritative..
"Electro-lite! That's what I'm calling you! It fits, it rolls off the tongue" Spiderman twisted his finger in the air. "It basically describes your whole screaming gyaru shock jock screaming for attention"
Down below the white haired merc had to bite back a smirk at the roasting going above him.
"You..little.." Electro-lite charged up as her hair went up in static and her eyes glowed blue lightning. The violent blue energy sizzled the air as she looked beyond pissed off. "Insect!" She threw her arms sending out thunderstrikes to which Spiderman jumped and spun in the air aerodynamic-ly while Superman used superspeed and tried a calming gesture.
"The back!"
"What?" Clark shouted throughout the noise.
"The power core!" Dodging a clearly irate Electro-lite charged car. "The thing is still attached to her spine but it hasn't pierced the bone" A barrel roll jump out of the way of a pole. "You need to get close to her and destroy it"
Superman would have a lot to say about the situation at hand but damn it this was getting too much. He needed to put a stop to this now..
"I'll distract her!"
And Clark would definitely have some words to say to that later one..
"You know I can hear you two idiots right!?"
"As if we need to worry about a stressed out buggy overglorified phone charging Tron cosplayer!"
Leslie Williams eyes went incandescent with blue lighting rage and roared out causing a surge in her body. Spider sense was tingling slightly, a calm before storm as what was happening could only mean things were about to get Critical.
Superman took the opportunity for superspeed, he had a target and this woman was clearly losing control of her own power. Appearing in a flash, too fast for her to follow he reached out and grasped the power crystal and pulled.
Which was almost a mistake as she cried out, blue light enveloping the area as Clark began to see
Warships in space, red laser fire, explosions
A green field, human soldiers, fleeing from destruction, burning and smoke. Fear.
Robots, the same make as the dock ones, red pylons and crystals.
Peter saw something that and something else
A beautiful matronly woman, grey haired and carrying a bundle on a dying exploding beautiful blocky minimalism, triangles and sphere world, a brown slash white haired silver fox of a man with a kickass eyepatch taking the baby. Black haired and put him in the futuristic rocket and firing the mechanism for the Last Son of Krypton to escape.
Into the fire. The grey haired woman ghost reached out for her son who was flying into the dark.
She felt she could follow him, a surreal moment in the darkness of space. When she was pulled elsewhere and nowhere. And saw in the mote of her eye…
A Spider
Holy..Cow.
Eyes blinking, Superman held Electro-Lite in his arms and settled her down. Descending to Earth in a measured sedate pace. Placing the unconscious woman on the bench carefully. Looking at the damage and burning. Super-Speed repairing and melding with his great strength.
Spiderman swung around to check for anyone injured and only saw very few onlookers who stared bright eyed and wondered at them.
It felt..nice not to be looked at with fear and misplaced hate. Not like he couldn't handle it or anything.
Fire was cleared by Superman super-breath and how many powers does this guy have!? Spiderman just realised he had his hair swept back and allowed himself to look solid so oh crap he can pull off no glasses look.
"So..young man" He did not just say that "Do you have..any idea where a young intrepid photographer named Peter Parker is"
Spiderman looked at him and wondered. This is what he calls subtle!?
"Superman!" And here comes Lois Lane with her recording device but then thought better of it and as soon as she put it away she realised the two men were gone.
"Lois!" A voice called out from the distance, a bedraggled and ruffled Peter carrying his Argus and looking around furtively as though there could still be danger around. "I've got the photos and-"
He was swept up in a bone crushing hug.
Peter felt nice.
Then he felt a punch in the arm.
"OW!" That hurt way more than the singe Electro-lite gave him.
"What the hell were you thinking!" Her small size suddenly looked like a giant up close as she put his head in his space "You could've been killed when you pulled that stunt!"
Peter blinked.
"I-I had it-I had it handled"
"Handled..?" Her eyes went to slits.
Realising this was about to turn into ground zero for Lois Apocalypse Peter pressed a button on his camera. Clear, high definition shots of Spiderman swinging, Superman flying and Electro-Lite throwing a hissy fit. All dynamic perfectly captured dynamics.
Which soothed the beast as her eyes widened and she let out a squeal!
"We did it! We got the pictures! We got the story! We got the-"
_
At the office..
"The scoop!" Perry White had settled the photographs down. The afternoon sun blazing in this strangely van gogh shaded world.
Lois yelled and roared in triumph! Peter blinked.
"I..honestly thought-" He tried to do stutter and just whispered "you were going to say we didn't get the scoop"
"Why would you think that?" He put his chin in his hand and looked sideways at them. Lois had gasped and shook Peter
"Why would you jinx us!" Shaking him like a boba doll that betrayed the fun it was meant to deliver.
"Lois, don't damage the only reason you even got the photos" Those words seem a bit too carefully chosen "I don't want my best intern photographer acquiring vertico sickness pathogen"
Lois let go and looked abashed at the stern yet cheery lecture Mr White gave them. Perry had the phone on.
"Stop the presses, we got a brand new story and I want newspapers printed on the double! Yes! Do you know what double means" He turned it off and looked at them. Something happened that Lois never in her life thought she would ever see.
A smile. At them.
Her eyes quickly darted outside and there were no four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
"You did good. Both of you"
Lois was so tempted to say: Stop the presses Perry White congratulated me (and by extension Peter) with a honest to god smile! She just managed to hold it in preening.
Peter looked as though he wanted to curl up like a caterpillar in his oversized hoodie, looked at Lois and gave a shy smile at her success.
Lois will continue that line of thinking discussion after they leave the office. With subtlety,
"Now go on, I've got work to do and you both need a rest from today's adventures" He leaned back and looked at them expectantly as the two felt the pleasing bask of their success.
"What are you doing!? Don't just stand there, get out" He said loudly and somehow didn't shout.
Outside the closed door Lois put her arm around Peter and pulled him into a crushing side hug, Peter blushed and carefully adjusted himself not to break out of Lois grip.
God even though she wasn't a masseuse she knew a knotted shoulder when she felt one. It was one of the things she helped dad out when mom..when mom couldn't do it.
"So.." She said slowly.
"So.." Peter drew carefully.
"When were you going to tell me you were studying to be a secret agent"
Peter spluttered and got out of her reach.
"Wait what-what do-you-uh mean" Lois could feel the forced stutter sounding just about natural. She didn't like it.
"The whole Keith David thing?"
"Keith David..?"
"The guy from the Negotiator."
Peter's eyes looked askance and was about to open his mouth to auto-correct her then thought better about it and shut his mouth.
"I…think you might be getting your movies mixed up."
Determined not to be swayed by his pathetic turnabout into obscure pop-culture she focused on the real objective. Mainly validation. Her eyes took on a soft look and held his hand which he looked at with puzzlement.
"That was an extremely brave and reckless thing you did today Peter" Peter's face took on a look that was far away, bittersweet and misty. She held it warmly and rubbed his palm with her thumb. She somehow made herself look taller by looking at him at eye level and practicing her Jang Pause: The gentle lowering of one's energy (her energy in fact) and being silent and gentle touching.
Peter felt his shoulders relaxing and he looked as though he couldn't determine what was happening yet physically he looked as though he was about to fall asleep.
"I'll walk you home"
He looked a bit..startled at that.
"Oh no its no problem"
"Peter." Her voice spoke softly and he stopped himself. "Let me get you home"
He looked like some lost little kid who was confused and teary eyed and happy (restrained) that an adult was there to protect him. Her insides coiled slightly and then she remembered.
"We've got to tell Clark!"
Peter's eyes widened and he nodded vigorously.
"Yes, uh Clark he's bound to recover from the flu at this moment"
"Uhh I think Flus take longer than that"
"I mean cold! Yes Clark is a big guy. He can recover pretty fast."
You seem to recover fast yourself
She kept that thought to herself. Walking forward out of the building while holding Peters hand to her side, her presence a blanket on him.
He didn't let go.
_
The Apartment..
"Hey oh Lois!" Superman, still in outfit, had just subtly opened the window to get inside and found his buzzing phone until he realised what he said out loud and looked embarrassed mortified as he looked to the side. "Hey oh Lois?"
"Hey o to you" Lois voice echoed in his eardrums to him sounded like a canary bird (even though it was the afternoon and not morning but he can be poetic now he earned it!) "Open your front door."
"Uh, one sec!" WIth a quick burst of superspeed cleaned up his room and changed out of his clothes into his normal ones, put Superman in suit and was just about to open the door when he remembered to tousle his hair and put on glasses. Open door and..
"Suprise!" By god it is a great awesome surprise every time she walks into his life. His heart beating, the air feeling a lightning current of heat from her presence. Peter followed her quiet as a mouse, like a child who was looking at his entrapped hand in wonder as though it was in hand. He didn't know how to get out of it which was all sorts of cute in Clarks eyes. Lois turned back to Peter "Can you point me to the kettle?"
Peter was finally released and chuckled and rubbed his head "I'm not twelve Lois I can brew myself coffee"
"Daechu-cha" She pulled a packet out of her chest pocket and tossed it to Peter who caught it quickly like a professional (did Peter play baseball or something), Clark wondered if she was a walking cupboard. "Take this, open it, put it in a cup and pur boiled water" Her smile became soft and Clark felt like she would be a great mother "No buts Peter hoonbae"
"Peter Hoonb-what now?"
"It means I'm in charge of you right now," She turned directly to him and pointed with a look that was both maternal and fiercely grounding. "Now settle down" She put her hand down and looked at him with care "Can you please do that for me?"
With the wilting look Peter was giving and the embarrassed blush he nodded and scuttled away to the back. Looking at the sachet containing dried Korean dates, ginger, cinnamon and honey like it was a strange alien marvel he had to decipher. Clark felt tension release from his shoulders staring at his friend.
"So." Lois clapped her hands and moved to the sofa where Clark was all too happy to take the seat next to her. "We got the story!" She whispered excitedly to him. "Perry literally stopped the presses," She looked at him with a bit of sadness that he really wished he had the superpower to wipe it away instantly "I wish you you'd been there to see it with me and Peter"
"I wish I could've been there with you. Too"
She looked downward and regained a determined expression "I still can't believe we pulled it off." She put her head up and putted her hands to the sides of her head "I mean, we did, but I can't believe we pulled it off"
"Well, I knew you would make it happen"
"You just want in on the byline" She put her head back, eyes closed with a smug smile. Clark turned towards her, completely serious and edging closer to her space.
(The kettle was already boiled. The contents in and hot liquid poured in. A boy looked at the two with forlorn melancholy and rested into the darkness. His eyes tracking the movements, the lightning mood of the afternoon sun's rays pouring in over his side, ironic that they were having their moment in the shadows)
"No, it;s the truth. There was never any doubt in my mind that you'd find Superman." She looked at him, face flushing as the sincere goodness of Clark Kents golden retriever earnest eyes peered into her soul with nerd glasses giving the most adorkable wholesome gaze.
Oh wow, that look should be illegal! She thought.
"Because you, Lois Lane. Are extraordinary"
Oh my heart! Don't fumble me now!
"And uh," He looked embarrassed side glance as though trying to dig his suddenly empty bowl of kibble praises and cheeses "driven and smart and funny..and..and smart"
Oh thank god I can deal with this!
"You said that already" She smiled at him and the cute blush adorned his pinchable cheeks. He chuckled and scratched his head.
"Well, I stand by it"
Lois would like to press on that, she could feel Clark would like to and..
…How did we get so close together!?
Both breathing each others scent, the midwestern hayseed flavour of his shampoo melding with her sunflower oil and her violet purple eyes meeting his beautiful solid blue. Lips opening slightly to let air out and intermingle in a tangible meeting of steam twirling.
Both were atomic red as they stood up straight in their seats like two meerkats triggered in stone statue lookouts. Silence..
"Well ugh" Clark coughed and wondered aloud "I wonder how Peter is doing with the tea." In a sing-song voice that wanted the awkwardness to be over.
"Just finished brewing"
YAH!
Lois jumped heroically (and she will write an entire piece defending against SLANDER) from the sofa at the same time as Clark. Reorinating herself on the seat she turned around and glared at the intruder behind them.
"What did I tell you about sitting down quietly!?" She whispered angrily like a cat who was knocked off course from catching the canary.
Peter smiled and took out a newspaper.
"Fli-I mean your source" Why did he sound familiar with that name!? "Gave me an advance copy of tomorrow's paper." He said warmly.
Lois' eyes went to the paper and read the lines.
"'Daily Planet confirms, the Superman and Spiderman are real!'" Her eyes closed for joy. "We did it!"
"...Read the byline" Peter said flatly.
Lois opened her eyes and did so, her eyes tracking the little letters as thought deciphering an ancient language that was pulling her into a malicious knock knock who's there joke of a surprise
"By Cat Grant, Ronnie Troupe and Steve Lombard"
….
Lois had found herself standing up with the eyes widening into saucers and her face twisted into a rubberband drawl of outrage
"WHAT!"
_
Somewhere far away, deep underground.
Leslie Willis was being electrocuted by a smug asshole who was behind a two way glass while asking questions that she glibly told the truth. Then electrocuted when he thought she wasn't telling the truth. So Asshole all the way then.
Giving panicked fear to the asshole seemed to abate him somewhat as she asked who are you people.
"That's easy," Why did she get the image of a housebroken man in a green sweatshirt!? "We are the good guys!"
"Now tell us what you know..about Superman and Spiderman.."
_
Episode 3: My Interview with Superman and Spiderman
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_
Metropolis…
Morning.
Bright sunny day, people were moving, no birds in the sky but good old air and clouds and somatic touches of earth's gravitational pull.
Flip wondered if she could make a news report on the social studies of the mundane and connect it to high geographical science for the Special Interest section of Newslegion newspaper.
Then there was a blimp. That was crashing.
"Oh no the blimp!" Says one scared female pedestrian pointing out in the air while Flip was riding her bicycle slowly in the crowd of people in front of her. She had a helmet on which she believed would improve her chances of survival. She was not thinking of the warning voice in her head that subsounded (she believes that made her eloquent!) suspiciously like the concerned Queens boy that it is better to run away from crashing planes.
From her point of view she firmly believed that she had adequate protection and running speed from impact.
_
The pilot was sent flying from the motionless blimp that crashed into the building thankfully not dying yet in the process of almost dying by hanging on the handle of the bar. Don't look down. Don't look down. Oh he looked down.
On the ground was a racing girl in a stylish green jacket on the far left. On the right was a running man about to rip open his shirt to reveal S.
And in the air red blue boots glided through the air and pulled by the weight of windspeed and aerodynamic foolery.
The pilot screamed and fell.
Before being caught mid-air by a flying cape man.
Pilot blinked and wondered if he was undergoing life flash before eyes moment before realizing he was on the ground already. Looking into the calm and earnest presence of a black haired straight laced giant of a man with the warmest smile.
"There's a fire! On the blimp!" First order of business.
Superman had set the man down before flying up into the air.
Explosion and Superman were already on the action to hold the broken plate in the air. Overshadowing them all.
"Big Guy! Focus! Don't touch the nose!" A voice yelled as they heard a THWIP! Sound. The pilot and crowd saw a nubile figure also in red and blue and by god what was…
Was he having a.. No, that's just aesthetic appreciation.
Superman looked straight upwards to see Spiderman climbing high in the air with webs pulling him upwards in staggering leaps and bounds. Superman wasted no time and flew upwards alongside Spiderman.
"What do we do?" No hesitation. Just trust.
"The hull is carbon fiber! Point lead concentration will cause a localised puncture! Go underneath!"
"Wow! Neato!" Superman spoke with his eyes going slightly jarring and talking in a faux jock accent "Carbon what-now? You sure are smart, random spider-themed citizens! I will completely blindly trust your complex mathematical assessment!"
Spiderman felt his insides curdled a little at embarrassment and what the hell has Clark smoking! He was sure his roommate was not taking any drugs.
Can his species get high!? No stop! Focus!
Beneath the ship, Superman braces his shoulders against the titanium keel. Superman holds back 90% of his strength. He doesn't want the kinetic recoil of his lift to snap his comrades arm off.
Superman knows that his webbed co-vigilante hero who is also his roommate is a lot stronger than that but gosh darn it someone has to look out for him!
"I've got the bottom!" Superman calls out, intentionally making his voice sound strained. "Whew! Boy! This is heavy! I sure hope your webs are strong enough!"
On top of the blimp, Spiderman is leaning back, heels dug into the canvas. His spider-sense is completely quiet regarding the blimp—because it knows Superman won't let it drop—but it's buzzing aggressively because his clearly bumbling hero in training junior is hovering too close to a live neon sign.
Superman felt a shock of indignant squawking at the moniker somehow. He could tell by Spiderman's eye glass rolls.
How does he even do that!?
"Hey, Cape-Guy!" The Web Head (that sounds so right to Clark's ears) shouts, muscles straining. "Less talking, more matching my deceleration curve! And watch your left side, you're about to give a billboard a haircut!"
"Thanks, anonymous friend!" Superman flies slightly to the right. The blimp was safely put down on streets where the fire department trucks and workmen got to hosing and securing perimeter,
Floating down with complete red boots on the ground while red black lined boots crouched on a lamppost.
Flip had the strangest feeling she knew these two dorks..
"Is everyone allright?" Superman asked plaintively as though he wasn't a flying super being who literally did an act of god in front of jaw gaping ninnies and was that guy in the cab having an empty cup? Flip would've winced in sympathy of coffee over one's lap if she ever had any.
(Seeing her other tutor's lap get burned by it was funny. Don't know why he would take the stuff he seemed too young much to his cute slightly disgruntled face she calls a pout. Which he would lecture her on proper face recognition that was so worth getting him to open up)
"Who are you?" Asks the pilot who finally got himself off the pavement. (Who is actually a captain? Can't tell with Blimp People).
"Oh I'm just-"
"SUPERMAN!"
Oh wait there is her first special tutor finally getting here huffing and puffing. Boy does she need to not skip leg day or just ride a bike like Flip.
Lois Lane felt an irritating urge to lash out somehow but pushed it down as she bringed out her recorder.
"Lois Lane. Daily Planet. Hoping you can spare a word"
And just like that a nervous looking Superman sweated and twisted his head side to side as if looking for an impossible exit.
"Oh yeah sure oh wait I'm just hearing a…an unladen swallow in danger"
…
Crickets.
The sheer absurdity of the most lame cop out in trying to get out of danger malarky..
"Would that be the European or African Swallow"
Somehow people snorted and Lois in her sweaty and put out expression suddenly blew a guffaw at the sheer segway provided by a deadpan guy in underoos on top of a lamppost.
"Up Up and Away!" Squealed a red and blue fast blur flying away. THWIP sounds and Flip could say her day went off to a great start seeing two awesome things. Flying and Swinging.
"Ah shoot!" Lois stomped her foot. "Got away again"
_
Meanwhile at Strykers…
Two idiots busted their cute female idiot out of prison using stolen Tech.
_
So at the Daily Planet…
Clark's worry over being late was instantly covered by sheer schadenfreud at seeing Peter in the hall looking miserable. Why miserable?
For he was wearing a much more clean fully formed non stitched together grey white flannel shirt with green shading that imitated a certain fellow reporter's jacket. No holes in just about tight pants that the young man tried to flatten his somewhat overlarge flannel shirt to make it look bigger so it can shield the look of his non-stitched and smooth brown pants.
You can practically see his tight round up muscles and lower body strength.
"Did you get a hairbrush" Clark questioned "Or did you actually know that a comb goes more than one way to style follicles?"
Peter glared at him (which was a pout but Clark decided to be merciful) and put his hands in pockets to look like a drifter when in fact he looked like a sulky teenager.
(Clark felt Peter didn't put much effort into being a teenager, he wondered if that is why Peter put so much effort in editing Jimmy's software and viral compartmentalisation and upgrading his software to clearly Sci-Fi levels so Jimmy wouldn't interfere too much)
Clark was all about preening (Read: acceptance of an ideological win against the sheer disproportionate roasting he underwent when he was just being a good secret keeper roommate).
Then he bumped into Lois when his vision went red and he had a massive headache. Lois head in his meaty chest and his coffee spilt to the side.
"Oh! Lois! Are you OK!" Worried Clark mode activated. Lois without her coat and in her prim and proper and functional blue suit and pants and the tiny blushes of her face in the pectoral wall of Clark Kent and seeing his worried golden retriever nature does things to her. Clark had seen Peter had moved out of sight and mind which was good for him for practising honourable restraint..
"Your not hurt are you? I didn't see you," Putting hand back on head and then shaking off to extrapolate using rampant body movement "I mean I did see you but.." He handed her the takeaway cup. "I've got you your coffee"
Her smile and joy did things to him.
"This is from Waids Cafe!"
"You said this was your favourite and I happen to jog past"
Her beautiful brown eyes looked from the cup she was holding and looked at him curiously "That's clear across the city"
"It was a..long joh" Eyes shifted to his right and back to her "Are you sure you are alright?"
"I am now" God it felt like a balm to his soul at her relaxation "Thanks to you" She had looked up at him and Clark felt like he was on cloud nine. "And, I really need this for the morning I had" Clark's smile dropped and his nervous deflecting energy prepped up. "Oh uh really" Hands together thumbs twiddling "What were you doing this morning?" before his hands released and her surprisingly strong pointing finger hand was in her chest. She was in a tough mood now.
"I'll tell you what," Pulling finger back and feeling aggrieved by looking downward as though she burn her problems like a magnifying glass "I've been trying to interview Superman and Spiderman but they keep running away," She stands to the side hand on hip while holding cup imperiously "Seriously what are they scared of"
"Well, just a guess" Clark thought he was trying to be reasonable here with his arms crossed and looking awkwardly to the side and folding his arms. "Maybe they don't want you to..learn all their secrets and publish them"
Lois had closed her eyes at him and set her head back. "Yeah," she opens her eyes and turns to stare at him in exasperation "But they don't know that is my plan." Close eyes briefly as though she was explaining to a bright child. A big muscled well to do child Clark thought to himself.
"Look. I'll be me." She pointed to herself "You pretend to be Superman." She pointed to Clark who was staring at the finger of accusatory doom in his opinion and then she pointed back "Peter will be Spiderman."
..
What?
A little cough and the strapping young man awkwardly came out like a crab sidewalking. Did he..Did he hear all that..what about the restraint..wait how did he keep his heartbeat low how..?
"How did you know I was here?" Peter Parker asked softly yet with the tone of what the hell am I going to do to get out of this panic in tone. Clark thought he should take the lumps the same as him if he could stay there like a traitor and watch Clark fumble.
(Clark Kent will deny he has a petty side. Just a little appropriate stern lecture to the misdemeanor of seeing him humiliated and not interfering when it needed to be interfered with)
Lois Lane shrugged with an eye roll and a little smile.
"You are not as subtle as you think hiding behind meek and closeted Hoobae," She wagged her finger at him to come closer which he did under muttering protest which she glibly ignored and put him side to side with Clark.
Then she got into the presentation and like a switch she went serious while holding a hand out in greeting to both of them while holding cup in hand in the other. "Hello Superman and Spiderman" Professional tone of voice "Lois Lane. Reporter for the Daily Planet"
"Its pleasure! It-S a Pl–sure Ms Lane-" Clark tried his best not to be confused who's talking to who here when he shakes her hand like a warm mitten.
"It's..also..my pleasure Ms Lane" Peter handshake her with a soft yet tough grip that firmly shakes hers.
Her 'c'mon' looking eyes beseech them "C'mon guys. A little more confidence"
"It's a pleasure!" Clark imbued some firmness and Peter thought what the hell have they gotten into and tried to muster his own confidence that sounded less of a squeak and normal boy talking tone. "Mam miss" Clarks awkwardness is the Planetary Shield. Peter prayed inwardly that the centre will hold.
"You saved my life" Her eyes looked to the floor in contemplative morose "You saved my friends life"
Peter Parker looked up with eyes carrying so much emotion yet it was gone in a second behind befuddlement. "I want to learn about the both of you." She came closer and asked why her presence was so warm. "It would mean the world to me if you let me interview you." She sighed and looked up, blinked and looked straight at Clark and Peter's faces "What do you say?" Her endearing smile full of hopeful cadence sings to both of them.
"If it was within my power. I'd do anything for you Lois"
Peter tried all his might not to do something. Laughing. Crying. Going awww. So many things and Clark had to be the one to make something so cheesy into something so beautiful noble.
"Well see how easy that was!"
Record screech. She angrily looks to the side with her hands in the air as to say whats up with that.
"Why can't they say it!"
(She didn't ask Peter to give it a go since she won't admit she was way into Clark's take on Superman. Who knew the Kansas Farmboy can make a pretty good imitation of a superhero which made Clark Kent feel like sneezing)
Peter would give the opinion that there were a hundred reasons why until he heard the scuffle and loud proclamation noises of wheels.
Which all three went to investigate the storage slash boiler room to find three distinctly dressed and staggering people.
"You've been scooped!" The jock with the old style mustache pointed his finger at the three.
"Oh no," Lois said flatly.
"Oh god no," muttered Peter.
The rich woman laughed at AHAAHAHHA.
"Allow us to introduce ourselves! LIGHTS!" Snap of fingers and everything went dark.
"Youre talking to Daily Planets Star News Team," Says the blond older woman with the pink coat dramatically like a spin dance in the dark.
"Sports reporter Steve Lombard Award-winning journalism, people pleasing good looks!" Peter was thinking Macho man or something else that tried to escape from his lips.
"Gossip and human interest Cat Grant If you can't say something nice, darling, then come sit by me. But not too close" Ohhh Peter was so tempted.
"I'm not doing this" Said the no nonsense black woman of the group that was under Peter's height which killed any buildup sass in his throat before it germinated.
"Aw c'mon Ronnie They got to know who's scooping them!" Steve Lomabard whined a little with a little finger point to illustrate.
"No. We have real work to do." Then she groaned and just went on with it "Ronnie Trouper Investigative Journalist"
The Lights went on and she came towards Clark, Lois and Peter with a little embarrassed for her life choices.
"I apologise about Steve. He thinks scoop means to steal. Which it doesn't Steve!" She spoke formally "It means to get the story before another reporter!" She shouted the last part looking at Steve.
"And I'm scoping this!" Peter was already imagining Zoidberg Noises mixed with Benders brusque attitude is not a good combination.
Lois is frightened and angry "Wait put that away you cant just.." She noticed something as the Jock jauntily took Murder Board away, there were papers missing and a hand squeezed her shoulder gently. It was Peters. Suddenly the worry went away yet she pretended to look sad and robbed.
She turned to Ronnie who was looking at her with an expectant boss vibe. "Perry assigned us to the Superman and Spiderman beat. He said you could pile research we could use. So we'll take this and get out of your hair."
"That isn't fair!" By God Lois felt she should get an Oscar for this! "The Super-Team story we wrote was perfect!"
"I agree."
"And..what?"
"You did great work. You, Kent and Parker" She looked at the young man who had his eyes on the ground at that last part, yet his head and stature was guarded and hidden. "You got a great lucky break with this," She put her hand on Lois' shoulders and gave a firm squeeze "You've got additional credit on the Byline" She pointed out.
"Well yeah.." Lois' eyes did look downwards in sullen admission of the fact.
"Which means you are on the right track"
Lois and Clark's head perked up and Peter looked…concerned at that.
"Perry says you still need more experience and need to establish yourself first but let's not forget you are interns." Ronnie raised an eyebrow "Who has been shot at by lasers, chased by robots and.." She turned to Peter "Need to expand both of your fields of study so you don't lag behind"
Peter blinked at that and was about to say something before Lois beat him to the punch. "What does that mean?" She said crossly folding her arms. Clark had a confused, slightly disapproving look on his face. Ronnie folded her arms and sighed.
"It means someone could stand to take initiative and not be reckless"
"That is..not mutually exclusive" Clark said confusingly. Peter looked a little taken back and folded inside his clothes.
"And I'm not…" Lois was raising her finger, torn between authenticity and genuine outrage as Ronnie walked by.
"We'll make sure you get an additional reporting credit when we're done"
When one final goodbye of 'Scooped!' By Steve sung around the corner it was about to shut until Cat Grant pulled open vines to say "Oh Peter, great job with the copier…and remember my seat is always available!" She sing songs.
Peter nodded in an aggrieved pain.
Blinds shut.
Silence.
Then Lois turned to Peter expectantly. Peter pulled photos out from somewhere and gave them to Lois' hand while Clarks eyes bugged out.
"You..you stole them Pete" Clark was aghast.
"No," Peter said defensively "I just pre-empted the unlawful acquisition by scurrilous ragmuffins in trying to capture Lois Story."
Lois' eyes sparkled and gave Peter a headlock and patted his head "That is a good Hoobae! You are a good Hoobae! Yes you are"
"Lois!" Peter waved his arms around trying to get out of this surprisingly strong woman who was giving him headpats and making him splutter and spat. "I'm 18 not 15!"
"I'm 23 and as your Seonbae I have full privilege to reward my Hoobae anyhow I want"
"Lois please" Clark had his hands up with a little blush and was that…jealosy from the point of view of Peter. No wait its not that Lois is patting his hair rather its that he isn't the one…
No. Going to stop that train right now! Must remain a lone wolf!
"This is clearly pushing the boundaries of journalistic integrity"
"It's more of the spirit of fairplay than integrity Clark" Mutters Peter as he finally squeezed out Lois loving headlock of doom. "I just jump ahead of the curve so that we aren't blindsided."
"By jumping ahead of the curve you mean?"
"A trusted source told me where the weapons are/finding superman" Peter and Lois said at the same time.
Clark blinked, Peter blinked, Lois grinned.
Peter looked at Lois. Clark looked at Peter. Lois was preening.
"...Which of those should I carefully dissect and debate vigorously first.."
"Which one is about to doom us all" Peter said morosely.
"To the news" Lois pointed and shouted dramatically as special bulletin noise came on and the three looked around and joined the office corner to watch the screen.
"...to prisoners at a press conference earlier today." Footage of Stryker's Island and News Anchorwoman. Peters eyes were glued to the screen. His spider-scanner for this place's tech still needed fine tuning as he can locate the general area yet not the localised vicinity. There was a chance the recalibrations he made could be traced but the thing was a prototype. He wondered why it was taking so long to finish it…
"Suspects have reportedly used unknown tech-weapons to escape." Peter felt a cold shudder go through him. This was sounding less secure and planned than Adrien Toomes smuggling ring and it made it more dangerous to the civilian population.
"That looks like the tech Livewire had!" Clark and Lois looked at him funnily.
"That's what Jimmy has been calling the electro-lite on Flamebird." Peter thought giving the woman a name like that only encourages her questionable life-choices. Then again he went by Spider-Man and his roommate Superman so who was he to judge.
"Livewire nearly destroyed half the city with just one crazy weapon." Lois said, warningly crinkling her face.
"With three on the loose…"
"I have to track down those criminals and stop them." Oh Clark, Peter thought. You really need to learn how to not insert your foot in your mouth and have control of your inner hero.
"Flamebird already has the identities of Intergang so we can cut them off before the heist." Then Peter realised what he just said, Clark realised what he just said and Lois gave them a raised eyebrow.
"I mean/ I mean" Clark and Peter said at the same time. "write about them/Photograph them." Double save please take it Lois. "I mean," Then Peter had to interject forcefully. "Do our jobs in the boundary of the law" Clark feeling emboldened jumped at the opportunity.
"This is the story we should cover!" Pointing his hand up like it was a low tier executive pitching a grand idea for his boss to assuage his anger and hopefully not get tossed out into window.
"We get the scoop for the Planet.." Clark continued
"And then Perry will have to take us seriously." Lois bunched her hands up excitedly. Peter had his hand to his chest and breathed a sigh of relief.
"What are we waiting for?" She pointed onwards. "Lead on, Smallville!"
Like that Clark went forward ahead of them down the hall to elevator joyfully, pep in step at job well done…
So why did Peter's hairs go slightly up in Spider-Sense mode?
"You're not giving up the Superhero Interview are you?"
"Never said I would did I" Lois smug grin made Peter felt like he took a lump of cold in his stomach. "Now!" She pointed dramatically "To the Flambird Mobile!" How was he going to handle this woman! Wait a minute…
"Flame what now/Flame what now?" Both Peter and Clark say at the exact same time.
"This is Bethany Snow for Channel 52 News, asking the question we all have on our minds. With sci-fi weapons and the presence of Superman and Spiderman becoming the norm, what is next for Metropolis?"
Oh Lady you have no Idea…
_
"I present to you our ride" In darkness, then a red curtain unveiling to reveal fiery circle just like the Madman promo picture before Lois snapped her fingers and the fire went out and the lights came on. "The FlameBird Mobile!"
A boxy, retro, late-70s or early-80s style classic utility van with a flat nose and a highly compact, utilitarian design that is the formulation of modern-meets-nostalgic art style.
The body of this machine was muted teal/light blue, accented by a massive, stylized orange and yellow retro stripe decal that swoops dynamically across the sides and wrap around the back—giving it a distinct, vintage "mystery-solving crew" or old-school news team vibe.
The back of the van is a cramped wonderland of amateur journalism. It's cluttered with stacked CRT monitors, data servers, loose audio mixers, camera lenses, and countless charts on local Metropolis cryptid sightings.
All Clark could say was..
"What," Clark splutters and twitches side to side like some pyramid metal puzzle cooked up by a lunatic on shrooms, stuttering and shuttering with his eyes google eyed and haunted. "HOW!?"
Clark turned to the smaller Intern who was looking as gobsmacked as he was while Lois was in her glorious triumphant entry pose. "Pete... I've known Jimmy since college. He lives off instant ramen and freelance photography vouchers. How does an unpaid intern afford a mobile satellite array, four data servers, and enough copper wiring to power a small village on top of a utility vehicle?"
Peter couldn't help himself. He gargled something and then let his mouth do the talking when the stress came up on him.
"Oh, please. It's the classic 'independent content creator' starter pack, Clark. He clearly used the ultimate financial loop-hole: an aggressive combo of a maximum-interest credit card, zero self-preservation, and an absolute refusal to pay taxes until the IRS physically tracks him down in a cornfield. Trust me, I used to build supercomputers out of literal dumpster garbage back in New York. If you don't care about a credit score or local zoning laws, anything is free."
(Blinking in utter horror) "Peter, tax evasion is a federal crime!"
"It's only a crime if they catch the van, Clark."
"Right on the money Hoobae and Partner," Wait Peter thought, why was Clark considered partner!? "Now lets go!"
…
They let her be the driver.
THEY LET HER BE THE DRIVER!?
Both boys felt a sense of absolute DOOM!
_
"So lay it on me hoobae, what government secrets have you dug up." Lois was looking smug and prim at the newly sanctioned war table outside a Brandon coffee shop on Routh Street. White, so very white table with a strangely New York ivory deco inside that Peter was sure was some fifteen year olds idea of what a New York Coffee shop looked like…switching channels to the now and..
"Okay, so I can't hack the police database because that violates the intern handbook... page 4, paragraph 2, Perry would literally shred me. But hypothetically, if someone used an unshielded, military-grade sub-harmonic battery in a standard Metropolis boxing gym, it would create a massive power hum on the local grid. Like a giant neon sign saying 'Evil Lair Here'."
Lois and Clark turned their heads to the strangely alert and assertive intern they all come to respect and admire with eyes going anime flat lines and question marks.
"Peter," Clark enunciated slowly. "How many disciplines do you have?"
"C'mon Clark" Peter waved off modestly as though it was just all that "Just enough to pay my share of the rent"
"Rent meaning having the wherewithal encyclopedia of Legal, Military, Journalistic Law with Genius Adorkabale Playboy Philanthropy to buy your apartment a million times over and you settle for American Too Nice for his Own Good Choir Boy in I must suffer the weight of the world so no one has to." Lois flatly said looking Peter in the eye…
…
"...What..?" Peter squeaked at the sheer compliment plus dressed down whatever the hell that was. Wait a minute..
"ADORKABLE!?" Peter's jaw fell open.
"Where does Playboy come into this?" Clark whispered under his breath. Lois took a sip of coffee and set it down.
"What are you two lagging around for?" She said as she
"We're going to a sketchy boxing gym!"
Clark sweated profusely. "Shouldn't we... call the police? Or a building inspector? Unshielded batteries sound like a fire hazard." Trying to be the voice of reason when reason went off and set itself on fire when Lois Lane was around. Peter didn't know why he was considered the prime kindling but he went along with it.
Come to think of it..
"Did we pay for the coffee!"
Lois had thrown a banknote over her head onto the table.
"Exemplary civil minding Hoobae!"
_
Inside the most on the nose gym name in history..
"'Iron & Anarchy Fitness'? Seriously? That sounds like a workout video made by a disgraced mercenary who got kicked out of the Navy SEALs for eating the chalk." Peter threw up his hands in exasperated pity. Clark looked on bemusedly at him while Lois had her arms around her back in a chill relaxed posture.
"It's not a gym name, it's a cry for help." Peter put his hand to his head in facepalm) "If you're going to run an illegal alien-tech smuggling ring, maybe don't name your front after a mid-tier heavy metal album from 1987."
CLAP! CLAP!
Then Lois slapped his shoulder in praising Peter who looked as though he said a yo mama joke to the entire class and wanted to combust in sheer embarrassment at opening his mouth. "That's the spirit, Hoobae! Use that pent-up aggression for the article."
"I think it has heart!" Clark tried his best to be the hopeful fool of denying cringe myopia of the disjunction of humanity. Peter groaned and slapped his hands to his face once then twice and stood straight and still.
"Look we don't know if they are here so now is a good time to..where are you?" He said the last part out as he saw the two on top of the garbage container below a large window.
"...Are you kidding me?"
He was about to shout out a warning until he saw..something that tugged at his heart.
"Lift me up!"
"Uhh what.."
"Lift me up your like twice my si-" Grabbing his hands and putting it around her waist, his humble apple pie boyscout hidden greek visage of a face blushing like the dawn of red autumn. "SIZE!!!!" She shouted (she did not scream she will deny it) as he pushed her up, her feet kicking at the window still as she fell and twisted around to be caught by his super-strong hands, their faces inches apart.
"Are you..alright" Clark Kent looked into her eyes, she looked into his eyes as she really came to admire the way the glasses added such wholesome magnetic appeal in the blue of his retinas.
"Uhh yeah.." Her tongue drawled as both faces became ripe and crimson like a Kansas tomato.
CLICK!
They both turned to a very shy looking flustered Peter who had his hoodie up and looked like was trapped between the daylight hours of mortification and the hopeful less dangerous but dangerous to overall physical health of the investigators.
He couldn't tell which was the more pliable option.
"...The door was unlocked.."
_
Spider-Sense is tingling. Scrounging the place revealed scribbled notes made by perhaps a dyslexic giant, angsty dropout and a feisty teen with attitude. Peter had just received a video recording by Flamebird revealing the three in action.
"You've got to be kidding me" Peter groaned as he, Clark and Lois watched the three 'criminals' in action acting like a 10th grader video play for younger children. "All they are missing is a cat and hot air balloon. They are going to rob a bank for 'respect and money' . Who does that with military exo-suits!"
Lois had a note and everyone heard scribbles.
"'The Team Rocket of Suicide Slums'," She raised a thumbs up in Peters direction "Goldmine headline! Grab the camera and start shooting!"
Clark was thinking at a fast rate as he read the paper lines. "Metropolis Central Bank has the most money and it is most loud target"
"Don't forget the time schedule" Peter pulled out paper with numbers that was hidden in the bed alongside wrappers, spare change and way too smelly overlarge socks. "7, 9. 12. Prime Hours for moving cash which means it is close to lunch hour"
The two men noticed something. Something is wrong. Something like a gust of wind and a Lois shaped hole inside the displaced air like that of a Looney Tunes skit.
On the ground was a note. Which Clark picked up and read aloud.
'Found the map. Headed to the bank for the front-page scoop. Don't be late, boys. (And don't bother calling the SCU—I already jammed the precinct's phone lines with an automated Flamebird redirect. See ya!)'
Peter was staring at the dust swirl afterimage wondering why the hell his spider sense didn't detect that!
Clark was staring at the dust swirl afterimage wondering why on god's green earth she would ditch-oh wait she explained in words. Why on god's green earth were they standing around!
Peter clinched the bridge of his nose, mumbled something about 'was this how Mr Stark felt..?' before staring dead eyed at his roommate whose glasses were fogging up.
"Clark... honest question. Did Jimmy ever mention anything on Flamebird about Lois secretly being an uncatalogued cryptid? Like, is she part Mothman? Does she possess localized teleportation abilities? Because I have a literal meaning..strong sense of when danger is about to happen, and she just broke the sound barrier without triggering a single nerve in my body."
"No Peter, Jimmy did not" Clark said blandly while the fog cleared from his glasses as he took them off and wiped them, took a breath and gave a bemused stressed out sputter "Jimmy just talks about the Goatman or underwater lizard people." He put them back on and looked straight eyed at his roommate "But honestly, Pete? At this point, I wouldn't rule out the Mothman theory."
Peter sighed and clapped his wrists together (that Clark did his best to ignore) while Clark straightened his posture and adjusted his legs for sprint that looked rather like it could leap tall buildings (that Peter did his best to ignore)
"Great. Wonderful. A regular Tuesday in Metropolis. Well, you heard the cryptid, Kent. We have a Team Rocket heist to crash before she tries to interview the a particle canon"
"Honestly, Peter?" Clark just grinned as he started running "I don't think even the Mothman could survive driving the Flamebird van at sixty miles an hour through a pedestrian mall." Both young men were outside and went from jogging to sprinting. "If anything, she's a localized natural disaster. And right now, that disaster has a five-minute head start on us."
Peter blinks, doesn't stumble as jumps a manhole and his feet begin picking up speed to catch up to the getting faster than normal human speed Clark who was also not thinking about Peters getting to faster than normal human speed. A smidgen, turning into tiny smirk of electric neurons firing through the Queens boy usual sad Tragic face of Drama into the Comedy face of theatre.
" Wow. Okay. Sarcasm. Look at you go, Clark. I'm genuinely proud. But if that 'natural disaster' gets vaporized by an alien sound cannon because we were standing here reviewing her driving record, Perry is going to make us archive the microfiche logs from the 1920s as punishment."
Clark had the tiniest of grins over small victory before his face and eyes turned dead serious behind his glasses. "Not on my watch. Let's move."
Peter could swear he heard a heartfelt matronly chuckle that made him both warm and second hand embarrassment. Yet he can't help but chuckle.
Both went forward
_
Forward into the Shitstorm!
"You took your time didn't you?" Lois Lane said non-chalantly as she sat on the seat of the van parked out just around the street fiddling the camera tablet. Like it was a nonchalant way of getting ahead to the bus stop for school before stressed out homework less tagalongs that gasped for air. Dramatically.
The sweat was worrying about the disaster about to happen and trying to hold it off before it escalated. Peter was holding his sides in the tiniest sign of someone trying to hold in their lunch.
"My esophagus is choking me! Choking! Me" And in the span of two seconds Lois threw the camera at Peter who caught it out of quick reflexes.
"Rest period is over, time to start shooting."
Clark blinked rapidly and tried to regain control of the situation. He marched forward.
"Stay here, out of sight where it's safe. I'll call the authorities."
"And we'll get captured/I need to use ATM Machine!" Lois had her hands on arms while Peter had stilled entirely. Same as Clark.
"Wait, what?" The glasses intern giant turned around to stare in wide eyed horror (geeze what did you think was going to happen Kent?) "You call for help, Peter and I will get taken hostage," She stopped herself and look at Peter quizzically
"To set up cameras and make sure building is in municipal health" Peter said lamely.
"I..put a pin in that and stick to my plan" She turned to Clark who was also confused and she continued.
"and then Superman and Spiderman will come and save us. That's when we'll get our interview with them."
"This," Clark pointed backwards, "was your plan the whole time? To find trouble, then ambush Superman and Spiderman when they fly-swing in?" Swinging his arms back and forth then flat.
Peter looked flustered and uncomfortable as a daffodil in the wind and tugged at his collar nervously. "I mean, it..kinda worked when we found Livewire.."
"You did that on purpose!?" Seeing the close up of an eye strained skin pulled back face Clark was making Peter all kinds of guilty while Lois was just rolling with it.
Also rolling with it is Spider-Sense and the giant cascade of Ice bursting out of the bank, cartooning through police barricades and coming towards them like a tsunami out of a poorly made disaster film.
Clark pushed the two away in the most gentlest way before he was overtaken thus giving him the excuse to disappear and don his suit.
"CLARK! ARE YOU OK!?" Lois screamed as Peter held her in his arms protectively, senses alert and eyes narrowed.
"Ms. Lane. Mr. Parker" Says Superman hovering above them, gliding down slightly. "Get to safety" Faster than a speeding bullet Superman went through the ice wall to do battle.
Peter was analysing the layout and the figures inside and knew the obvious danger coming before spider-sense tingled his body into action. He could see Clark trying to deliver a firm warning to shut off the machine and Siobahn just used her mask scream to attack him. Yeah he really needed to train the guy first..
"We've got to evacuate everyone!/We've got to evacuate everyone" Peter and Lois said firmly and went on the attack, Peter hoped that soon they would split further and as they warned and made sure everyone was away it looked less and less likely that Peter could change into..
"Pete?"
Flip was there on her bicycle.
Why was Flip there on her bicycle!?
"Flip what are you doing here!?" He said loudly, making sure there was no one around before getting to her level "It's not safe here!"
She took out her phone, red and pink, with a Flamebird chat on. "Prime Subscription" She said if that made all the sense in the world.
Almost as making sense as when the ice started getting out of control!
Peter grabbed her and without thinking leaped into the air and duck and rolled into the shadows!
"PETER!" A scream.
Peter rolled into a stop with a bedazzled Flip in his arms, setting her down and she was momentarily confused. "Stay here" she heard then realised Peter was gone.
_
Clark felt he was a reasonable man, reasonably humble farm boy from Kansas who it turns out to be an Alien. A super-powered reasonable alien who just wanted the criminals to stop freezing everyone with tech they are completely incapable of handling. Surely Pete was exaggerating when he called them Team Rocket.
I mean..the balloon and cat would make them more wholesome and approachable and would definitely help their image.
But no, he was screamed at, hit by a teenager big boned and (hopefully) bigger heart who is aptly named Rough House by Siobahn who hit him with iron gauntlets which hurted Clark somewhat but with careful application of force he lifted him up and pushed him away. Now to see if he can speed their blows and shift their attention away from civilians and disable the device..somehow.
A crack, a kick through the window and Spiderman swings into action, somersaulting in the air shooting webs and webbing Silver Banshee(Siobahn helmet) to stop her screaming. His body twisted in the air, shooting web to the roof while slowly sliding down the web like an actual spider.
"Wow. Incredible. You guys managed to get your hands on highly advanced, reverse-engineered military technology, and your master plan is... robbing a local bank?" He flitted his hand around. "For respect and money? What is this, a Saturday morning cartoon pilot from 1985?! You have weapons capable of altering molecular density, and you're using them to carry out a plot cliché that could be solved by a generic mall cop!" He spun around to see the rest of his audience.
And in that micro second moment. Siobahn McDougal saw something…amazing. Her growing rage was tempered and interfered with a sight that looked like something SHE, an on the rise master criminal would call that should be a crime for something like to be shown so shamefully in public to threaten women with!
"You're literally threatening people with an oversized ice cannon! Who designed your strategy, a disgruntled middle-school bully?!" With this he turned straight back to her.
Damn him for turning around! It's not like she liked looking and…oh wait she's supposed to be pissed off at this do-gooder!
Silence…
Rough House looked confused and disorientated by the roast, Mist (Kyle) had dropped the bags of money (which he incidentally dropped his invisibility because he was a novice and never thought to keep it on) and Siobahn…
Her face was red with embarrassment (and other things she will not give a name!) and screeched and tried her best to pull the webs off. Her nostrils flaring and a red angry mark on her forehead.
"You…" Then she screamed through an amplifier, the webs not strong enough to hold her helmet together (Peter notes he will have to invest in stronger webs for future) "Dún do chab, a chreatúir shalach gan náire! Bloigeard beag gortach, loitfidh mé tusa! (Translation: Shut your mouth, you dirty, shameless creature! You miserable little brat, I will ruin you!"
The windows had all shattered, Spiderman's fingers were already in his ears. He had a grin which Clark believed was totally not called for into descelating situation! Spiderman unplugged his. He raised his right hand and began listing things with one finger.
"Okay, first of all: 'Creatúr salach'? Please. I've been called worse things by a guy wearing a quilted green mattress suit back in Queens." He raises his second finger "Second, 'bloigeard gortach' is a terrible misapplication of syntax for an urban area—Metropolis is a high-yield economic hub, so 'miserable' doesn't even statistically apply to my tax bracket." Then he raises his third. "And third? Your pronunciation of the guttural consonants in the Munster dialect is completely sloppy. If you're going to swear at me in Irish, Siobhan, at least respect the linguistic geography!"
Her mouth fell open, her brother's mouth fell open. No one wanted to see an angry gaelic cursing Sioban when she found out they accidentally mixed her laundry with theirs. Albert thank god was not that foolish and he was such a gentlemanly fool as to know when not to put his washing in. She gave Kyle shit for it for two weeks and backed off when his pale miserable face and misery was enough to satisfy her vengeance.
To see her be dismantled like this..
Mist was focusing on the mouth when he should've been looking at the hands. For Spiderman's left hand was behind his back and shot out with a lightning fast twhip! a thick strand of high-tensile webbing fires blindly across the lobby, perfectly sticking to Mist's arm-mounted molecular-phaser and pinning him flat against a marble pillar before he can even think about turning invisible.
Spiderman simply turned his head to dumbstruck Superman and Rough House, things were ticking like a clock.
"Hey Blue, Less staring, more civic duty! More civic duty! Take care of the big guy before he realises he's wearing a glorified toaster!"
Superman snaps out of his daze before flying straight at Rough House whose clock had just reached the timer and buzzing. "Hey wait, who's toast-!?"
He was taken out by a blue blur.
Spider Sense was tingling and Peter groaned inwardly because of course now the prototype starts showing engineering faults because it is a prototype and Team Rocket had to have fiddled with it.
Spiderman leapt into action as Superman landed on the floor and looked decidedly concerned. "Spiderman what is happening!?" The machine was going red.
"That is an AmerTek climate-disruption core! They didn't re-engineer it—they literally just jury-rigged a stolen government battery pack to the intake line!" It begins sparking yet Spider-Sense was growing a steady meaning they still have time to disable it peaceably and give instructions.
"It's creating a runaway sub-zero thermal feedback loop! You need to apply a concentrated heat spike directly to the secondary relief valve on the central manifold or this whole city block becomes a glacier!"
"How." Superman didn't shout, didn't need to, he trusted this incredibly smart person who seemed to know way, way more than he does (which raises extremely concerning things about his friend).
"The coolant line on the central AmerTek manifold is completely unshielded! If we can't shut down the energy feed, we have to force a kinetic over-pressure blowout! Use your super-strength to grab the massive industrial steel vault door, slam it directly into the main intake valve on the left side, and hold it there! If you completely cut off the oxygen-vacuum seal, the internal pressure will spike, and the engine will automatically choke itself out and seize up"
Quick, Chaotic, and Reliant on brute force and localized geometry to choke out dangerous tech. Peters guidebook.
That just so happens to hit snag when the torn off vault door just about to slam on the device the Amertek core decided to curl up and die with Spider Sense ringing like crazy.
Premature critical rupture.
Things slowed down for Spiderman, time slowed to a crawl.
His breathing sound was like glaciers gliding into the sea, his eyes widening like moons, his mind going through all vectors.
A fraction of a second was all the time his brain needed.
The Amertek Core blast radius was expanding exponentially. If the kinetic shockwaves hit the structural pillars. The entire building will pancake, crushing Intergang, the bank staff and civilians.
Unnactable.
Can't run to exit. Must use 100% Spider-Agility.
Total Containment.
His hands blur in slow motion as he fires a massive, web canopy across the ceiling, trying to anchor the falling marble blocks. Spiderman felt heavier things, lifting them too.
This is nothing.
Then the blue light hits, and everything hurts.
His voice, remembering the full disconcerting and terrifying reality of a toddler perspective. Purple cracks in the sky, orange light whispered of a spell, two people remaining in the world who held his heart dear..dissapering like dust. Like A Snap.
The web canopy misfires…
Time slams into normal speed like a truck hitting a person in the middle of the road. Peter felt scared. Peter panicked, Peter..
Peter felt a warm feeling on his forehead. A humming that seemed so familiar, so breathtakingly cosy like a warm blanket after a cold night. Peter blinked.
And Spiderman took the reins!
The jagged crystalline ice fractures from the ceiling and falls down onto them, in Siobhan's way. Her helmet short-circuited from the wave. He could feel her disorientated paralysed and totally exposed weight behind him.
He does not think. He does not hesitate. She is a person in danger.
He leaped, a desperate high octane explosion, launching himself across the freezing fog. He tackles her, out of the path of the spike. His arms wrapped around her in protective embrace as debris rained around them. A crash, roll to absorb friction, huh, the impact didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, the glowing blue light was oddly comforting to his senses.
She was pinned beneath him, unharmed and dazed and Spiderman felt a sigh of relief at the rescue.
Siobahn consciousness shook awake, her eyes looking at the data that was getting fuzzy and unlocked the helmet at her command. Her bare face had gasped in air and looked at the position she was in and who saved her.
The second guy to ruin their score.
The second guy who roasted her.
The second guy who lectured her pronunciation (her pronunciation was fine MOM!)
The second guy who had the brains, sensibility and gusto to call out their plans…foibiles straight to her face.
The second guy who had the most amazing…
The bug who wouldn't stop talking and had saved her without a thought to his own safety.
His mask had the most vivid of facial movements and why were his bug white eyes so big and soul staring!?
"Wow. Hey, by the way…I really like your hair. The dye job is awesome"
Her red face and circled eyes could not be seen by Spiderman who was already on the move when the red light came out and melted the ice.
She decided to lay there and let herself succumb to blissful, happy sleep with her heat beating like a War Drum from Culodden. With the little promise in her subconscious that she refused to name that she will tell him her hair is all natural!
(What Peter didn't realise as he swore he heard the muffled laughter from somewhere was making him worried for something that chilled his spine).
Shaking things off he hopped to his feet as emergency workers and first responders came in, Superman standing in the middle and talking to one paramedic. With white hair.
A focused Cold snap hit his neurons at once. The spatial air thinned and the tingle of threat echoed with sharpened homeschooled psy-ops.
Clean-shaven, military-tight posture, his hyper-calculated peripheral vision, and the specific way he carries his weight—a total lack of empathy for civilian life or liberty.
Real paramedics move with frantic, community-focused empathy. The Black Ops pretty boy moves like a sweeper team clearing a hot zone. Spiderman notices that the paramedic uniform fits a fraction too tightly around the suspect's high-density upper back—the hallmark of someone concealing tactical combat tech under standard fabric.
"We took out the machine causing this, but the people in the back got hit hard." He moved forward to the exit "They need help"
Spiderman pretended not to notice the smirk Black Ops man gave Clarks back, Spiderman's attention was on Siobhan aka Silver Banshee (which is an awesome supervillain name) who after being put on stretcher was muttering words "Dun do chab" and twirling her hair. Being pushed by Black Ops.
"Are you going to be alright?" Superman asked carefully and tried to think of ways of saying thanks.
"I'll be good. There is a certain reporter who likes a private interview with you"
Superman blinked and chuckled.
"Well, I think she likes to interview you as well."
"Good." Spiderman says flatly and Superman gave a concerned look at tone and posture. "I need to make sure they are ok first"
Superman thought he should question more on that but decided to withhold and gave a passing smile.
"Thank you. You really did good work today."
"Just being a friendly neighbour"
Superman felt the way that sounded was so very wrong. But he trusted him. He walked outside to a bustling crowd and a worried Lois Lane.
Spiderman shoots webs from both hands to a jump and finds himself sitting on the back edge of the gurney from the rafters. Spiderman's chest pressing on Black Ops back, the web slingers head leaning over shoulder. Target isolated and contained.
And the hand that tried to reach the weapon knew it and stilled.
"Don't tense up, doc." A cold voice, a voice devoid of humor or light. "If your hand moves even a millimeter toward your hip, I will snap the framework of this gurney and pin you to the marble before you can blink." The man felt palpitations "And if you try to start a fight with the big blue guy floating twenty feet away, you're going to blow your entire agency's cover on live television. So we're going to play nice"
The man nodded. It was all he could do.
"Do we understand each other…Mr. Boyband Reject" Spiderman said in a cheery Dennis the Menace tone of voice.
The man was paralysed. Good.
"I know you aren't here to save lives, and I know who's signing your checks. You're trying to bag Intergang for a black site." Spiderman said as if talking about the weather "Here is how this actually goes: You're going to leave the stretcher right here. You're going to walk out those front doors with your hands in your pockets, and you're going to tell your handler that Metropolis is closed for shadow-government business."
Slade panicked (he would deny it!) tried to shift his weight but Spiderman's wall crawling stick-em power channeled through his suit, hand locking onto Slade's shoulder with crushing casual strength like pinching a fly between tips of fingers, a paraphrase of Welcome to my Parlour says the spider.
"Because if Intergang vanishes into a dark room tonight," Spiderman's voice dropped to sub-zero temperatures "I won't just come looking for them. I will systematically hunt down every single weapon shipment your people try to smuggle into the Suicide Slums. I will web your supply lines to the sky, intercept your couriers, and leave your operations entirely bankrupt. You don't want a ghost sabotaging your war, Pretty Boy. Leave the girl. Walk away." The last words were enunciated in clipped tones.
"Say you understand"
"...I Understand"
"Now walk"
Slade walked, walked at a pace that was like someone was decidedly not sedate or calm.
"Hey wait, where are you-" Says an actual paramedic looking in before Slade started running and burst through a window.
"..He really needed to go to the bathroom" Spiderman quipped. The actual paramedics looked confused and concerned.
(Meanwhile in a dark city of Gargoyles, a detective felt the need to approve, disapprove and critiquing someone on interrogation methods. And why does he feel the want to adopt... His white lenses narrow in suspicion at possible outside forces influencing his mind)
_
Outside… On top of a tower.
"Before we start... " Lois sat crosslegged on the gravel, looking over the beautiful sunset while Superman was hovering awkwardly with a smile off a metres "Clark and Peter. Are they okay? They completely vanished after the AmerTek core detonated."
Superman nodded earnestly, his voice warm with only slight anxiety "They're perfectly safe, Lois." He gave her a calming look which she totally dug into. "Clark got Peter out of the blast radius. They're probably... back at the apartment having dinner right now."
"It's 1: 50" Lois looked at him with raised eyebrows as if to say C'mon I know that you are a beautiful flying man but you can't go off the handle like that and not be asked questions.
"An early dinner" Superman said with a straight face as though that was believable fiction.
"You mean lunch?"
"I could go for some Dial H for Hoagies at this moment" A voice from above spoke, giving them a slight jolt as Spider-Man sitting perched on top of the water tower swinging his legs like a teenager. Red and Blue swinging those legs like two little kids in a challenge to see who can swing the fastest.
Then he casually drops down, landing upside-down, hanging by a single web-line directly between Lois and Superman, completely invading their personal space with his expressive fabric lenses blinking curiously wide.
"Hey! Sorry I'm late. Took a wrong turn at the suspension bridge." He turns his head from side to side "Wow, great view up here. Do you guys do this often, or is floating over gravel just a Tuesday thing for you, Blue?" The rapid fire barrage that was Spiderman's mouth was like ratatatatatata gunfire to Superman's ears of needling his self conscious proprietary image he is trying to portray.
Before he could cough he was interrupted (saved) from being jibed (Clark really hoped it wouldn't turn into a roast because he knew he couldn't survive if fellow hero did that to him…he wouldn't would he?) by Lois Lane who got up like a spring chicken and shot out her recorder like an attacking weapon.
"Great! we can begin the interview!"
Spider-Man gave a heh sound before going over to the ledge and kicking his feet in the air. Not a care in the world as Superman gave his interview.
_
Spider-Man smiled beneath his mask, ahh young love coated in secrets. What a great way to have a relationship based on. Not his place to say anything. He had nothing to say.
Its not like there was a lot he could do. That life isn't for him.
He felt that warm feeling again, prickling, pinching, worried and..distraught. Why did that make him feel like he was punched in the gut and want to apologize profusely. What was up with him lately.
It felt like..the time he was looking in the dumpster to find the shoes school bullies threw in and he was missing for hours and coming home to a distraught May…
"Alright, Spider-Man. Your turn." He twisted around and sat like a schoolboy sitting for a school announcement assembly. "You've been active in the Suicide Slums. You fought beside Superman today, but your methodology is different. You quip, you make pop-culture jokes, you roast the villains. But when the police showed up, you ghosted. Do you have a family? Anyone waiting for you at home?"
Spider-Man tilted his head slightly as though doing the non-chalant head nodding to obvious praise in the form of a question was a routine byline that you get from a weather report. Then adjusted himself to speak smooth and friendly
It felt rigid for some reason.
"Home? Nah," He shook his head with his arm shaking like it was sweeping dust off himself. "nothing like that. No family, no big waiting party." He folded his hands together in interlockingnot because it is uncomfortable "I just crash wherever there's a roof, honestly. The mask is pretty much the whole operation. It's safer that way. Keeps things simple".
Spider-Man heard the sounds of drifting clouds and feeling the warm vibes. His body reacting to these normal parameters was like a rock in the sea. Unchanging and solid. So why did it feel like the air just got colder?
His white fabric eyes could see the shapes of his roommate and senior looking as though someone had kicked their puppy.
"Then why do you do it?" How did she get so close!? "If you don't have a home, if you don't want a name, why are you throwing your body in front of military-grade particle cannons for people you don't even know?" Why was her voice so..soft. He didn't think it was that bad!
Somehow he felt there was a sharp intake of breath that made him feel uncomfortable like he just fumbled an emotional outlet.
"There has to be a reason.". Lois Lane looked at him with those very sad eyes. The less said about Superman the better.
A reason..
Of course there is a reason..
It's the only reason he's here after all..
(The presence waited with bated breath.)
The background noise faded away, playfulness evaporated and the eye-lenses of Spider-Man's mask narrowed and his tone stopped being the high pitched teenager edged Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman. It becomes..Duty.
A responsibility.His curse
"Because..when you can do the things I can do, but you don't…and then the bad things happen? They happen because of you."
Silence. So heavy. Like an anvil was pressing on everyone's chest. Spider-Man felt fine though the looks they were giving him were concerning.
He stood up, popped his joints and let his voice carry a bouncy pitch.
"Aaaand on that cheerful note, I am officially out of time! I don't want the meter running on my web-fluid. Thanks for the chat, Miss Lane! Great talking to you, Blue—try to get some sun, you look a little pale under that cape."
Execute crisp, textbook backflip, shoot web-line and swing into the sun. Funny, it didn't feel as warm as it did an hour ago..
_
"I…I have to go Lois" Such hurt and worry coming from an Invincible mans throat like sand through parchment.
She was clutching her recorder tightly. "Superman.." Her voice didn't have its lustre, it's joy or passion. Something that he finds Abominable. "Did you hear..how he said it..it's like" She breathed in, her breath hitched "he doesn't think he matters"
Superman looked at the skyline, the silhouette blurring into the shadows of an overcast sun on a city that makes everyone look up for tomorrow. The young man swinging under looking like an after-image, a shade fading into the bottom of yesterday..and nevermore.
"I heard him, Lois." His jaw steeled itself like an Armet closing itself for War. "And I promise you..I'm going to talk to him"
He flew up into the air, then down into the shadows where the light touches.
Lois took a breath, inhaled and exhaled.
SLAM!
"Lois!"
A quick ruffling of hair and adopting a frightened humble dust covered and sweaty look of two interns who were huffing and puffing from running up the stairs. Disguise mode activated and…
"Lois!" Good old Clark Kent, earnest and true, went forward to hold her hand in comfort and worry "Oh, man... we saw the ice melt from the lower plaza! Peter and I got trapped behind a fallen security gate in the basement corridors, and we've been running up the stairs looking for you!" Punctuating out with hand pointing, arm bending and flagrant use of worried looking Golden Retriever dog look turned Lois sad smile upwards.
Then Peter Parker, humble (yeah you keep telling yourself that) chimed in "Yeah! The structural integrity of the service stairs was completely compromised, Lois. The concrete layout was a total maze." He had a congratulatory look on his face.
"Are you okay?" Peter's eyes crinkled in worry. He laid a hand on Lois' shoulder "Did you get the story?" Lois nodded and then swept them into a hug, a very tight and warm embrace that felt like a mama bear holding her cubs.
A korean american woman shorter than Peter Parker by five inches was holding her two lovable idiots tightly like a constrictor viper.
"Uh Lois..choking" Peter gasped out. While Clark was just leaning into it knowing Peter was just embarrassed. She let go and gave the good news.
"I got the interview!" She exclaimed in joy, raising her hands in the air.
"Wow! You got the interview! Gee wish golly" Clark pulled his arm apart into the phrase's meaning (Peter thought he was overacting). Peter gave a smile (not completely untrue one thought Clark, thankfully Lois didn't catch on)
Peter was about to say something when he felt a hand on his right shoulder. A gentle hand. A gentle firm hand with the grip strength to crush coals into diamonds as easy as scrunching up a tissue. With the restraint of a good man.
Peter looked up into Clark's blue eyes, seeing the man twisted his head from side to side as if to say 'let it go' which Peter closed his mouth. Lois let go of both of them and gave a smile that was both warm and sad.
"So.." Clark said slowly rubbing his hands together behind his back and looking to the side before turning to Lois.
"Superman and Spiderman..pretty great guys right?"
Peter just looked like he was checking out the birds as he pretty much knew how airtight his statement was. No worries at..
"Oh, One is a liar" Lois smirked. Peter stumbled.
"Oh that's gre-what now" Eloquently spoken Clark.
"The other is…" She sighed and rubbed her forehead. She looked up at Peter "I'll tell you tomorrow..just" She hugged him, gently this time. "It's been a long day".
Peter…Peter felt bad…he is not sure why..
You know why..
Walls were coming up..they had to be restruc-
Clark Kent had his arm around the teenager's shoulder this time, a group hug.
The trio decided it was a good time to appreciate warm silence.
RUMBLE!
Lois Lane and Clark Kent separated themselves from Peter Parker and gave him a flat look.
"..You skipped breakfast! Which I thought we agreed" Clark Kent never looked more disappointed. Peter Parker thought it couldn't be worse.
He was wrong. So very wrong.
For here cometh the doom that is Pure. Unadulterated.
Kansas Mom Energy.
In the towering giant named Clark Joseph Kent!
Which caused maximum hit points to Peter Parker's self-esteem.
"Peter." A sigh of what am I going to do with you was the first metaphorical damage taken! "I left a mountain of blueberry pancakes and three sausage links under the silver foil on the counter." Don't be tempted with delicious food! "I even drew a little smiley face on the napkin." That smiley face is a war crime and you know it! "You touched the coffee maker, but the foil wasn't even moved." Do you have no mercy sir!? Hitting a man while he is down! "A protein bar is not breakfast."
Peter felt if this was an RPG his healthbar was in Critical Mode. The warning klaxon from Star Fox ringing in his ears like a woodpecker finding religious ovation on the wood that is his self-respect!
Wait, quick counter!
"I had breakfast! A Nutritional Bar at 5:00AM" Peter retorted affronted.
"Second Breakfast," Clark arched eyebrow.
Peters eyes widened at the words that came out of Clark Kent's straight-faced flat intonation.
"Kent cooks you real breakfast while you are addicted to chalk bars. That is a civil crime against culinary logistics." Lois joined with her piercing dead eye stare. Why did Peter feel the proverbial sweat drop rain going down his face as Lois Lane edged a little closer looking less of a small person and more like a freaking ENT somehow!
"Eleveneses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and supper" Lois spoke, speaking the questions as though they were bullets launched from the gun that was Lane Maternalism. "Do you even know the standard meal tracking of a proper Shire resident!?"
Peter Parker could swear he felt a wide-eyed grin coming from somewhere in the ether. WHAT WAS UP WITH THAT!?
Wait a minute. His brain was finally catching up. His temperament cured by the insanity that was happening in front of him and all he could do was squeak out.
"You know Lord of the Rings?"
Lois looked at him like he was foolish for asking such a question, then grinned triumphantly and flipped her hair glibly. "...Fool of a took" Then she gave a non-plussed look. "Peter, I spend forty hours a week trapped in a broadcasting van with Jimmy Olsen. Do you honestly think I could survive his Flamebird conspiracy rants without learning the entire geopolitical history of Middle-earth?! I. talk. to. Jimmy!" Punctuated by poking Peter in the chest and flicking his head.
Peter felt something shoot up inside him from his gullet, a hot streak of welcome yet strangely mysterious yet familiar bedfellow whose name is delight. He smirked and pulled up a finger
"Okay, first of all, if you're quoting Gandalf, your vocal register needs to be at least two octaves lower to capture the true authoritative gravitas of a Maia wizard." Put up his second finger "Second, if Jimmy is Aragorn in this scenario, that makes Clark a total Samwise Gamgee—just an overly wholesome farm boy carrying around a pocketful of potatoes and emotional support."
So like Ian McClellan's booming voice did Clark Kent not shout You Shall Not Pass but the silent words of I Will Laugh and You Will Laugh With Me! Sound coming from his diagram. His shoulders rolling and his hands clutching his stomach as he felt the most damage lately from stitches instead of being punched around by Rough House. The laughter spread to Lois who let out a bright snorted giggle clutching her sides and her eyes streaming tears at the adorkable catastrophe that was happening.
Peter felt something tug at the corners of his mouth, a ticking stretching that was pushed out and not pulled out. It felt weird. What was it?
"Aha!" Lois stood up straight and pointed at Peter Parker dramatically like that out of a theatre play. "I saw a smile! I knew my precious Hoobae was human after all" She grabbed him and pulled him down wrapping her arm around his neck and tousling his hair. It felt..extremely nice… "You can't hide that gloomy, case studying law reading exterior forever, Parker!"
Then she separated herself, coughed and tried to look professional while Clark settled down and folded his arms giving them a nice supportive calm look.
"Alright, enough hobbit business." She dusted off her coat and folded her arms while giving a wistful sigh "We need to get back to the office. Jimmy's streaming feed was glitching, so we probably don't even have a single good visual asset for the front page—"
Peter casually pulled his modified camera out of his satchel, tapping the digital preview screen.
"Okay, so... please don't be mad," Lois felt that she was going to be mad "but remember right before the heist started, when I told you I was going to look for an ATM? I actually slipped into the bank lobby to check the municipal building permits posted near the entrance. I wanted to see if AmerTek had legally updated the building's foundational structural reinforcement grid."
Peter explained all this with a straight face.
Though he felt a slight warning in spider-sense of Danger, treading into emotional blow up territory with a sweat looking nervous Clark and a serious-investigative glare by Lois Lane.
"You went into a target zone..to check a building permit?"
Peter thought his next defense would satisfy despite Clark shaking head and hands with a bug eyed worried face (don't do it man!)
"Yes! But it was purely data-driven! And while I was looking at the frame," He didn't notice the dark cloud going over Lois face as it was shadowed by..something. Spider-Sense wasn't tingling so it must be a good sign right?
"I noticed a high-angle architectural molding that perfectly overlooked the central vault. So, purely as a standard archival precaution for the Planet's digital records, I used a piece of high-density heavy-duty mounting tape from my bag to anchor my backup micro-camera up there." He gesticulated with his hands pointing while Clark's jaw was hanging and why is he sweating like a fountain!
"It's rigged with an automated acoustic proximity shutter—I calibrated it to trigger whenever sound frequencies spike above 90 decibels. So when the... Peter stumbled and looked a bit nervous at the absolute quiet of Lois Lane "uh... Gaelic-swearing Team Rocket started shouting, the camera just did all the work automatically!"
Peter wasn't sure what was going on behind her glazed eyes as he laid out the camera as a peace offering, then the spider-sense stopped blaring as she sighs, rubs her face over head and gave an understanding and sad look.
Lois had the most gentle look as she raised her hand to wipe away soot from his cheek.
"You know what, Hoobae? Fine." She said matter of factly "The sound-activated shutter theory is ridiculous, and you're a terrible liar... but it's been a really long day." She gave the most sincere smile yet "I'm just glad you're not a block of ice right now." She chirped.
Peter didn't know what to say to that. He felt he should be worried but he decided to suppress it because he felt it didn't matter.
Like a lot of things in the past.
Lois in a pivot, snatched the camera out of hands like a thief. Her fingernails swiping left at Digital screen displaying flawless, hyper-dynamic action shots.
Superman Mid Flight holding a massive vault door shield framed beautifully by dramatic smoke
Another of a crystal-clear, close-up shot of Spider-Man executing a jaw-dropping, flexible mid-air flip
And a third, capturing the exact split-second the AmerTek machine detonated.
Lois' jaw drops.
Absolute Journalistic Masterpiece
Gazing upon this was like Israelites rediscovering the The Ten Commandments of the Original Stone. She grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Hoobae... you are a literal wizard. Perry is going to pass out when he sees this!" She squealed so full of happiness "That's it—front page secured, Team Rocket demolished, and my intern is officially starving." She pointed upwards into the sky "Change of plans, boys! We are taking the Flamebird van straight to the Suicide Slums strip mall." She looked at the five inch talker intern "Peter, you just earned yourself a giant Dial H for Hoagie with double cheese." She turned and looked up to her one feet higher beautiful kind fellow intern "Clark—you're paying!"
Clark chuckled, smiled and gave Peter an affectionate heavy nudge on the shoulder. "Gladly. And tomorrow morning, Peter? You are sitting down and eating those pancakes."
Peter Parker chuckled mirthlessly "As long as you don't forget the Maple Syrup Kent"
"Scouts Honour." Clark solemnly promised with his hand over his heart.
"Ok People, lets get our boy a hoagie before he collapses" Lois went forward until her phone started ringing. She picked up and motioned the two to go in front of her.
"Hi Jimmy! Did you get the stream-" She paused as the voice carried over was a concerned child voice.
"Whoah Flip! Calm down Yes Peter is fine.." She trailed off, as soon as she was getting down the stairs she stopped and looked at the back of her Hoobaes head.
"Peter is your second secret tutor" She deducted flatly. The voice on the end was quiet before replying.
"You did nothing wrong, Flip. In fact your doing a good job"..
Words were spoken.
"I'm sure he would be extremely happy to see you..because his Sunbae is extremely proud of him..even if he doesnt see it yet" She smiled.
"Until then..he'll tell us when he's ready."
Lois turned off the phone and sped up behind her two favourite idiots. Holding arms around their necks.
_
Authors note: My god it's amazing when all you have is a laptop, holiday and no distractions. Just the single minded focus on writing.
So yeah this is my shoddy attempt to show Peter is both smart strategically and dumb emotionally when it comes to other people. It might be a shoddy attempt on writing drama of disassociate identity and Peters self denial of himself as a person. Other people won't let him.
Say what will you will about AI. If used right a self-depreciating fanfic writer who loves simple power-fantasies can make something at least half-way decent.
About Siobahn... screw it it's fanfiction. So there.
So I am following canon, with the ripples and characters driving the story I hope I have set up something that is different yet ties in with the themes of the show.
Until next time.
Metropolis…
Morning.
Bright sunny day, people were moving, no birds in the sky but good old air and clouds and somatic touches of earth's gravitational pull.
Flip wondered if she could make a news report on the social studies of the mundane and connect it to high geographical science for the Special Interest section of Newslegion newspaper.
Then there was a blimp. That was crashing.
"Oh no the blimp!" Says one scared female pedestrian pointing out in the air while Flip was riding her bicycle slowly in the crowd of people in front of her. She had a helmet on which she believed would improve her chances of survival. She was not thinking of the warning voice in her head that subsounded (she believes that made her eloquent!) suspiciously like the concerned Queens boy that it is better to run away from crashing planes.
From her point of view she firmly believed that she had adequate protection and running speed from impact.
_
The pilot was sent flying from the motionless blimp that crashed into the building thankfully not dying yet in the process of almost dying by hanging on the handle of the bar. Don't look down. Don't look down. Oh he looked down.
On the ground was a racing girl in a stylish green jacket on the far left. On the right was a running man about to rip open his shirt to reveal S.
And in the air red blue boots glided through the air and pulled by the weight of windspeed and aerodynamic foolery.
The pilot screamed and fell.
Before being caught mid-air by a flying cape man.
Pilot blinked and wondered if he was undergoing life flash before eyes moment before realizing he was on the ground already. Looking into the calm and earnest presence of a black haired straight laced giant of a man with the warmest smile.
"There's a fire! On the blimp!" First order of business.
Superman had set the man down before flying up into the air.
Explosion and Superman were already on the action to hold the broken plate in the air. Overshadowing them all.
"Big Guy! Focus! Don't touch the nose!" A voice yelled as they heard a THWIP! Sound. The pilot and crowd saw a nubile figure also in red and blue and by god what was…
Was he having a.. No, that's just aesthetic appreciation.
Superman looked straight upwards to see Spiderman climbing high in the air with webs pulling him upwards in staggering leaps and bounds. Superman wasted no time and flew upwards alongside Spiderman.
"What do we do?" No hesitation. Just trust.
"The hull is carbon fiber! Point lead concentration will cause a localised puncture! Go underneath!"
"Wow! Neato!" Superman spoke with his eyes going slightly jarring and talking in a faux jock accent "Carbon what-now? You sure are smart, random spider-themed citizens! I will completely blindly trust your complex mathematical assessment!"
Spiderman felt his insides curdled a little at embarrassment and what the hell has Clark smoking! He was sure his roommate was not taking any drugs.
Can his species get high!? No stop! Focus!
Beneath the ship, Superman braces his shoulders against the titanium keel. Superman holds back 90% of his strength. He doesn't want the kinetic recoil of his lift to snap his comrades arm off.
Superman knows that his webbed co-vigilante hero who is also his roommate is a lot stronger than that but gosh darn it someone has to look out for him!
"I've got the bottom!" Superman calls out, intentionally making his voice sound strained. "Whew! Boy! This is heavy! I sure hope your webs are strong enough!"
On top of the blimp, Spiderman is leaning back, heels dug into the canvas. His spider-sense is completely quiet regarding the blimp—because it knows Superman won't let it drop—but it's buzzing aggressively because his clearly bumbling hero in training junior is hovering too close to a live neon sign.
Superman felt a shock of indignant squawking at the moniker somehow. He could tell by Spiderman's eye glass rolls.
How does he even do that!?
"Hey, Cape-Guy!" The Web Head (that sounds so right to Clark's ears) shouts, muscles straining. "Less talking, more matching my deceleration curve! And watch your left side, you're about to give a billboard a haircut!"
"Thanks, anonymous friend!" Superman flies slightly to the right. The blimp was safely put down on streets where the fire department trucks and workmen got to hosing and securing perimeter,
Floating down with complete red boots on the ground while red black lined boots crouched on a lamppost.
Flip had the strangest feeling she knew these two dorks..
"Is everyone allright?" Superman asked plaintively as though he wasn't a flying super being who literally did an act of god in front of jaw gaping ninnies and was that guy in the cab having an empty cup? Flip would've winced in sympathy of coffee over one's lap if she ever had any.
(Seeing her other tutor's lap get burned by it was funny. Don't know why he would take the stuff he seemed too young much to his cute slightly disgruntled face she calls a pout. Which he would lecture her on proper face recognition that was so worth getting him to open up)
"Who are you?" Asks the pilot who finally got himself off the pavement. (Who is actually a captain? Can't tell with Blimp People).
"Oh I'm just-"
"SUPERMAN!"
Oh wait there is her first special tutor finally getting here huffing and puffing. Boy does she need to not skip leg day or just ride a bike like Flip.
Lois Lane felt an irritating urge to lash out somehow but pushed it down as she bringed out her recorder.
"Lois Lane. Daily Planet. Hoping you can spare a word"
And just like that a nervous looking Superman sweated and twisted his head side to side as if looking for an impossible exit.
"Oh yeah sure oh wait I'm just hearing a…an unladen swallow in danger"
…
Crickets.
The sheer absurdity of the most lame cop out in trying to get out of danger malarky..
"Would that be the European or African Swallow"
Somehow people snorted and Lois in her sweaty and put out expression suddenly blew a guffaw at the sheer segway provided by a deadpan guy in underoos on top of a lamppost.
"Up Up and Away!" Squealed a red and blue fast blur flying away. THWIP sounds and Flip could say her day went off to a great start seeing two awesome things. Flying and Swinging.
"Ah shoot!" Lois stomped her foot. "Got away again"
_
Meanwhile at Strykers…
Two idiots busted their cute female idiot out of prison using stolen Tech.
_
So at the Daily Planet…
Clark's worry over being late was instantly covered by sheer schadenfreud at seeing Peter in the hall looking miserable. Why miserable?
For he was wearing a much more clean fully formed non stitched together grey white flannel shirt with green shading that imitated a certain fellow reporter's jacket. No holes in just about tight pants that the young man tried to flatten his somewhat overlarge flannel shirt to make it look bigger so it can shield the look of his non-stitched and smooth brown pants.
You can practically see his tight round up muscles and lower body strength.
"Did you get a hairbrush" Clark questioned "Or did you actually know that a comb goes more than one way to style follicles?"
Peter glared at him (which was a pout but Clark decided to be merciful) and put his hands in pockets to look like a drifter when in fact he looked like a sulky teenager.
(Clark felt Peter didn't put much effort into being a teenager, he wondered if that is why Peter put so much effort in editing Jimmy's software and viral compartmentalisation and upgrading his software to clearly Sci-Fi levels so Jimmy wouldn't interfere too much)
Clark was all about preening (Read: acceptance of an ideological win against the sheer disproportionate roasting he underwent when he was just being a good secret keeper roommate).
Then he bumped into Lois when his vision went red and he had a massive headache. Lois head in his meaty chest and his coffee spilt to the side.
"Oh! Lois! Are you OK!" Worried Clark mode activated. Lois without her coat and in her prim and proper and functional blue suit and pants and the tiny blushes of her face in the pectoral wall of Clark Kent and seeing his worried golden retriever nature does things to her. Clark had seen Peter had moved out of sight and mind which was good for him for practising honourable restraint..
"Your not hurt are you? I didn't see you," Putting hand back on head and then shaking off to extrapolate using rampant body movement "I mean I did see you but.." He handed her the takeaway cup. "I've got you your coffee"
Her smile and joy did things to him.
"This is from Waids Cafe!"
"You said this was your favourite and I happen to jog past"
Her beautiful brown eyes looked from the cup she was holding and looked at him curiously "That's clear across the city"
"It was a..long joh" Eyes shifted to his right and back to her "Are you sure you are alright?"
"I am now" God it felt like a balm to his soul at her relaxation "Thanks to you" She had looked up at him and Clark felt like he was on cloud nine. "And, I really need this for the morning I had" Clark's smile dropped and his nervous deflecting energy prepped up. "Oh uh really" Hands together thumbs twiddling "What were you doing this morning?" before his hands released and her surprisingly strong pointing finger hand was in her chest. She was in a tough mood now.
"I'll tell you what," Pulling finger back and feeling aggrieved by looking downward as though she burn her problems like a magnifying glass "I've been trying to interview Superman and Spiderman but they keep running away," She stands to the side hand on hip while holding cup imperiously "Seriously what are they scared of"
"Well, just a guess" Clark thought he was trying to be reasonable here with his arms crossed and looking awkwardly to the side and folding his arms. "Maybe they don't want you to..learn all their secrets and publish them"
Lois had closed her eyes at him and set her head back. "Yeah," she opens her eyes and turns to stare at him in exasperation "But they don't know that is my plan." Close eyes briefly as though she was explaining to a bright child. A big muscled well to do child Clark thought to himself.
"Look. I'll be me." She pointed to herself "You pretend to be Superman." She pointed to Clark who was staring at the finger of accusatory doom in his opinion and then she pointed back "Peter will be Spiderman."
..
What?
A little cough and the strapping young man awkwardly came out like a crab sidewalking. Did he..Did he hear all that..what about the restraint..wait how did he keep his heartbeat low how..?
"How did you know I was here?" Peter Parker asked softly yet with the tone of what the hell am I going to do to get out of this panic in tone. Clark thought he should take the lumps the same as him if he could stay there like a traitor and watch Clark fumble.
(Clark Kent will deny he has a petty side. Just a little appropriate stern lecture to the misdemeanor of seeing him humiliated and not interfering when it needed to be interfered with)
Lois Lane shrugged with an eye roll and a little smile.
"You are not as subtle as you think hiding behind meek and closeted Hoobae," She wagged her finger at him to come closer which he did under muttering protest which she glibly ignored and put him side to side with Clark.
Then she got into the presentation and like a switch she went serious while holding a hand out in greeting to both of them while holding cup in hand in the other. "Hello Superman and Spiderman" Professional tone of voice "Lois Lane. Reporter for the Daily Planet"
"Its pleasure! It-S a Pl–sure Ms Lane-" Clark tried his best not to be confused who's talking to who here when he shakes her hand like a warm mitten.
"It's..also..my pleasure Ms Lane" Peter handshake her with a soft yet tough grip that firmly shakes hers.
Her 'c'mon' looking eyes beseech them "C'mon guys. A little more confidence"
"It's a pleasure!" Clark imbued some firmness and Peter thought what the hell have they gotten into and tried to muster his own confidence that sounded less of a squeak and normal boy talking tone. "Mam miss" Clarks awkwardness is the Planetary Shield. Peter prayed inwardly that the centre will hold.
"You saved my life" Her eyes looked to the floor in contemplative morose "You saved my friends life"
Peter Parker looked up with eyes carrying so much emotion yet it was gone in a second behind befuddlement. "I want to learn about the both of you." She came closer and asked why her presence was so warm. "It would mean the world to me if you let me interview you." She sighed and looked up, blinked and looked straight at Clark and Peter's faces "What do you say?" Her endearing smile full of hopeful cadence sings to both of them.
"If it was within my power. I'd do anything for you Lois"
Peter tried all his might not to do something. Laughing. Crying. Going awww. So many things and Clark had to be the one to make something so cheesy into something so beautiful noble.
"Well see how easy that was!"
Record screech. She angrily looks to the side with her hands in the air as to say whats up with that.
"Why can't they say it!"
(She didn't ask Peter to give it a go since she won't admit she was way into Clark's take on Superman. Who knew the Kansas Farmboy can make a pretty good imitation of a superhero which made Clark Kent feel like sneezing)
Peter would give the opinion that there were a hundred reasons why until he heard the scuffle and loud proclamation noises of wheels.
Which all three went to investigate the storage slash boiler room to find three distinctly dressed and staggering people.
"You've been scooped!" The jock with the old style mustache pointed his finger at the three.
"Oh no," Lois said flatly.
"Oh god no," muttered Peter.
The rich woman laughed at AHAAHAHHA.
"Allow us to introduce ourselves! LIGHTS!" Snap of fingers and everything went dark.
"Youre talking to Daily Planets Star News Team," Says the blond older woman with the pink coat dramatically like a spin dance in the dark.
"Sports reporter Steve Lombard Award-winning journalism, people pleasing good looks!" Peter was thinking Macho man or something else that tried to escape from his lips.
"Gossip and human interest Cat Grant If you can't say something nice, darling, then come sit by me. But not too close" Ohhh Peter was so tempted.
"I'm not doing this" Said the no nonsense black woman of the group that was under Peter's height which killed any buildup sass in his throat before it germinated.
"Aw c'mon Ronnie They got to know who's scooping them!" Steve Lomabard whined a little with a little finger point to illustrate.
"No. We have real work to do." Then she groaned and just went on with it "Ronnie Trouper Investigative Journalist"
The Lights went on and she came towards Clark, Lois and Peter with a little embarrassed for her life choices.
"I apologise about Steve. He thinks scoop means to steal. Which it doesn't Steve!" She spoke formally "It means to get the story before another reporter!" She shouted the last part looking at Steve.
"And I'm scoping this!" Peter was already imagining Zoidberg Noises mixed with Benders brusque attitude is not a good combination.
Lois is frightened and angry "Wait put that away you cant just.." She noticed something as the Jock jauntily took Murder Board away, there were papers missing and a hand squeezed her shoulder gently. It was Peters. Suddenly the worry went away yet she pretended to look sad and robbed.
She turned to Ronnie who was looking at her with an expectant boss vibe. "Perry assigned us to the Superman and Spiderman beat. He said you could pile research we could use. So we'll take this and get out of your hair."
"That isn't fair!" By God Lois felt she should get an Oscar for this! "The Super-Team story we wrote was perfect!"
"I agree."
"And..what?"
"You did great work. You, Kent and Parker" She looked at the young man who had his eyes on the ground at that last part, yet his head and stature was guarded and hidden. "You got a great lucky break with this," She put her hand on Lois' shoulders and gave a firm squeeze "You've got additional credit on the Byline" She pointed out.
"Well yeah.." Lois' eyes did look downwards in sullen admission of the fact.
"Which means you are on the right track"
Lois and Clark's head perked up and Peter looked…concerned at that.
"Perry says you still need more experience and need to establish yourself first but let's not forget you are interns." Ronnie raised an eyebrow "Who has been shot at by lasers, chased by robots and.." She turned to Peter "Need to expand both of your fields of study so you don't lag behind"
Peter blinked at that and was about to say something before Lois beat him to the punch. "What does that mean?" She said crossly folding her arms. Clark had a confused, slightly disapproving look on his face. Ronnie folded her arms and sighed.
"It means someone could stand to take initiative and not be reckless"
"That is..not mutually exclusive" Clark said confusingly. Peter looked a little taken back and folded inside his clothes.
"And I'm not…" Lois was raising her finger, torn between authenticity and genuine outrage as Ronnie walked by.
"We'll make sure you get an additional reporting credit when we're done"
When one final goodbye of 'Scooped!' By Steve sung around the corner it was about to shut until Cat Grant pulled open vines to say "Oh Peter, great job with the copier…and remember my seat is always available!" She sing songs.
Peter nodded in an aggrieved pain.
Blinds shut.
Silence.
Then Lois turned to Peter expectantly. Peter pulled photos out from somewhere and gave them to Lois' hand while Clarks eyes bugged out.
"You..you stole them Pete" Clark was aghast.
"No," Peter said defensively "I just pre-empted the unlawful acquisition by scurrilous ragmuffins in trying to capture Lois Story."
Lois' eyes sparkled and gave Peter a headlock and patted his head "That is a good Hoobae! You are a good Hoobae! Yes you are"
"Lois!" Peter waved his arms around trying to get out of this surprisingly strong woman who was giving him headpats and making him splutter and spat. "I'm 18 not 15!"
"I'm 23 and as your Seonbae I have full privilege to reward my Hoobae anyhow I want"
"Lois please" Clark had his hands up with a little blush and was that…jealosy from the point of view of Peter. No wait its not that Lois is patting his hair rather its that he isn't the one…
No. Going to stop that train right now! Must remain a lone wolf!
"This is clearly pushing the boundaries of journalistic integrity"
"It's more of the spirit of fairplay than integrity Clark" Mutters Peter as he finally squeezed out Lois loving headlock of doom. "I just jump ahead of the curve so that we aren't blindsided."
"By jumping ahead of the curve you mean?"
"A trusted source told me where the weapons are/finding superman" Peter and Lois said at the same time.
Clark blinked, Peter blinked, Lois grinned.
Peter looked at Lois. Clark looked at Peter. Lois was preening.
"...Which of those should I carefully dissect and debate vigorously first.."
"Which one is about to doom us all" Peter said morosely.
"To the news" Lois pointed and shouted dramatically as special bulletin noise came on and the three looked around and joined the office corner to watch the screen.
"...to prisoners at a press conference earlier today." Footage of Stryker's Island and News Anchorwoman. Peters eyes were glued to the screen. His spider-scanner for this place's tech still needed fine tuning as he can locate the general area yet not the localised vicinity. There was a chance the recalibrations he made could be traced but the thing was a prototype. He wondered why it was taking so long to finish it…
"Suspects have reportedly used unknown tech-weapons to escape." Peter felt a cold shudder go through him. This was sounding less secure and planned than Adrien Toomes smuggling ring and it made it more dangerous to the civilian population.
"That looks like the tech Livewire had!" Clark and Lois looked at him funnily.
"That's what Jimmy has been calling the electro-lite on Flamebird." Peter thought giving the woman a name like that only encourages her questionable life-choices. Then again he went by Spider-Man and his roommate Superman so who was he to judge.
"Livewire nearly destroyed half the city with just one crazy weapon." Lois said, warningly crinkling her face.
"With three on the loose…"
"I have to track down those criminals and stop them." Oh Clark, Peter thought. You really need to learn how to not insert your foot in your mouth and have control of your inner hero.
"Flamebird already has the identities of Intergang so we can cut them off before the heist." Then Peter realised what he just said, Clark realised what he just said and Lois gave them a raised eyebrow.
"I mean/ I mean" Clark and Peter said at the same time. "write about them/Photograph them." Double save please take it Lois. "I mean," Then Peter had to interject forcefully. "Do our jobs in the boundary of the law" Clark feeling emboldened jumped at the opportunity.
"This is the story we should cover!" Pointing his hand up like it was a low tier executive pitching a grand idea for his boss to assuage his anger and hopefully not get tossed out into window.
"We get the scoop for the Planet.." Clark continued
"And then Perry will have to take us seriously." Lois bunched her hands up excitedly. Peter had his hand to his chest and breathed a sigh of relief.
"What are we waiting for?" She pointed onwards. "Lead on, Smallville!"
Like that Clark went forward ahead of them down the hall to elevator joyfully, pep in step at job well done…
So why did Peter's hairs go slightly up in Spider-Sense mode?
"You're not giving up the Superhero Interview are you?"
"Never said I would did I" Lois smug grin made Peter felt like he took a lump of cold in his stomach. "Now!" She pointed dramatically "To the Flambird Mobile!" How was he going to handle this woman! Wait a minute…
"Flame what now/Flame what now?" Both Peter and Clark say at the exact same time.
"This is Bethany Snow for Channel 52 News, asking the question we all have on our minds. With sci-fi weapons and the presence of Superman and Spiderman becoming the norm, what is next for Metropolis?"
Oh Lady you have no Idea…
_
"I present to you our ride" In darkness, then a red curtain unveiling to reveal fiery circle just like the Madman promo picture before Lois snapped her fingers and the fire went out and the lights came on. "The FlameBird Mobile!"
A boxy, retro, late-70s or early-80s style classic utility van with a flat nose and a highly compact, utilitarian design that is the formulation of modern-meets-nostalgic art style.
The body of this machine was muted teal/light blue, accented by a massive, stylized orange and yellow retro stripe decal that swoops dynamically across the sides and wrap around the back—giving it a distinct, vintage "mystery-solving crew" or old-school news team vibe.
The back of the van is a cramped wonderland of amateur journalism. It's cluttered with stacked CRT monitors, data servers, loose audio mixers, camera lenses, and countless charts on local Metropolis cryptid sightings.
All Clark could say was..
"What," Clark splutters and twitches side to side like some pyramid metal puzzle cooked up by a lunatic on shrooms, stuttering and shuttering with his eyes google eyed and haunted. "HOW!?"
Clark turned to the smaller Intern who was looking as gobsmacked as he was while Lois was in her glorious triumphant entry pose. "Pete... I've known Jimmy since college. He lives off instant ramen and freelance photography vouchers. How does an unpaid intern afford a mobile satellite array, four data servers, and enough copper wiring to power a small village on top of a utility vehicle?"
Peter couldn't help himself. He gargled something and then let his mouth do the talking when the stress came up on him.
"Oh, please. It's the classic 'independent content creator' starter pack, Clark. He clearly used the ultimate financial loop-hole: an aggressive combo of a maximum-interest credit card, zero self-preservation, and an absolute refusal to pay taxes until the IRS physically tracks him down in a cornfield. Trust me, I used to build supercomputers out of literal dumpster garbage back in New York. If you don't care about a credit score or local zoning laws, anything is free."
(Blinking in utter horror) "Peter, tax evasion is a federal crime!"
"It's only a crime if they catch the van, Clark."
"Right on the money Hoobae and Partner," Wait Peter thought, why was Clark considered partner!? "Now lets go!"
…
They let her be the driver.
THEY LET HER BE THE DRIVER!?
Both boys felt a sense of absolute DOOM!
_
"So lay it on me hoobae, what government secrets have you dug up." Lois was looking smug and prim at the newly sanctioned war table outside a Brandon coffee shop on Routh Street. White, so very white table with a strangely New York ivory deco inside that Peter was sure was some fifteen year olds idea of what a New York Coffee shop looked like…switching channels to the now and..
"Okay, so I can't hack the police database because that violates the intern handbook... page 4, paragraph 2, Perry would literally shred me. But hypothetically, if someone used an unshielded, military-grade sub-harmonic battery in a standard Metropolis boxing gym, it would create a massive power hum on the local grid. Like a giant neon sign saying 'Evil Lair Here'."
Lois and Clark turned their heads to the strangely alert and assertive intern they all come to respect and admire with eyes going anime flat lines and question marks.
"Peter," Clark enunciated slowly. "How many disciplines do you have?"
"C'mon Clark" Peter waved off modestly as though it was just all that "Just enough to pay my share of the rent"
"Rent meaning having the wherewithal encyclopedia of Legal, Military, Journalistic Law with Genius Adorkabale Playboy Philanthropy to buy your apartment a million times over and you settle for American Too Nice for his Own Good Choir Boy in I must suffer the weight of the world so no one has to." Lois flatly said looking Peter in the eye…
…
"...What..?" Peter squeaked at the sheer compliment plus dressed down whatever the hell that was. Wait a minute..
"ADORKABLE!?" Peter's jaw fell open.
"Where does Playboy come into this?" Clark whispered under his breath. Lois took a sip of coffee and set it down.
"What are you two lagging around for?" She said as she
"We're going to a sketchy boxing gym!"
Clark sweated profusely. "Shouldn't we... call the police? Or a building inspector? Unshielded batteries sound like a fire hazard." Trying to be the voice of reason when reason went off and set itself on fire when Lois Lane was around. Peter didn't know why he was considered the prime kindling but he went along with it.
Come to think of it..
"Did we pay for the coffee!"
Lois had thrown a banknote over her head onto the table.
"Exemplary civil minding Hoobae!"
_
Inside the most on the nose gym name in history..
"'Iron & Anarchy Fitness'? Seriously? That sounds like a workout video made by a disgraced mercenary who got kicked out of the Navy SEALs for eating the chalk." Peter threw up his hands in exasperated pity. Clark looked on bemusedly at him while Lois had her arms around her back in a chill relaxed posture.
"It's not a gym name, it's a cry for help." Peter put his hand to his head in facepalm) "If you're going to run an illegal alien-tech smuggling ring, maybe don't name your front after a mid-tier heavy metal album from 1987."
CLAP! CLAP!
Then Lois slapped his shoulder in praising Peter who looked as though he said a yo mama joke to the entire class and wanted to combust in sheer embarrassment at opening his mouth. "That's the spirit, Hoobae! Use that pent-up aggression for the article."
"I think it has heart!" Clark tried his best to be the hopeful fool of denying cringe myopia of the disjunction of humanity. Peter groaned and slapped his hands to his face once then twice and stood straight and still.
"Look we don't know if they are here so now is a good time to..where are you?" He said the last part out as he saw the two on top of the garbage container below a large window.
"...Are you kidding me?"
He was about to shout out a warning until he saw..something that tugged at his heart.
"Lift me up!"
"Uhh what.."
"Lift me up your like twice my si-" Grabbing his hands and putting it around her waist, his humble apple pie boyscout hidden greek visage of a face blushing like the dawn of red autumn. "SIZE!!!!" She shouted (she did not scream she will deny it) as he pushed her up, her feet kicking at the window still as she fell and twisted around to be caught by his super-strong hands, their faces inches apart.
"Are you..alright" Clark Kent looked into her eyes, she looked into his eyes as she really came to admire the way the glasses added such wholesome magnetic appeal in the blue of his retinas.
"Uhh yeah.." Her tongue drawled as both faces became ripe and crimson like a Kansas tomato.
CLICK!
They both turned to a very shy looking flustered Peter who had his hoodie up and looked like was trapped between the daylight hours of mortification and the hopeful less dangerous but dangerous to overall physical health of the investigators.
He couldn't tell which was the more pliable option.
"...The door was unlocked.."
_
Spider-Sense is tingling. Scrounging the place revealed scribbled notes made by perhaps a dyslexic giant, angsty dropout and a feisty teen with attitude. Peter had just received a video recording by Flamebird revealing the three in action.
"You've got to be kidding me" Peter groaned as he, Clark and Lois watched the three 'criminals' in action acting like a 10th grader video play for younger children. "All they are missing is a cat and hot air balloon. They are going to rob a bank for 'respect and money' . Who does that with military exo-suits!"
Lois had a note and everyone heard scribbles.
"'The Team Rocket of Suicide Slums'," She raised a thumbs up in Peters direction "Goldmine headline! Grab the camera and start shooting!"
Clark was thinking at a fast rate as he read the paper lines. "Metropolis Central Bank has the most money and it is most loud target"
"Don't forget the time schedule" Peter pulled out paper with numbers that was hidden in the bed alongside wrappers, spare change and way too smelly overlarge socks. "7, 9. 12. Prime Hours for moving cash which means it is close to lunch hour"
The two men noticed something. Something is wrong. Something like a gust of wind and a Lois shaped hole inside the displaced air like that of a Looney Tunes skit.
On the ground was a note. Which Clark picked up and read aloud.
'Found the map. Headed to the bank for the front-page scoop. Don't be late, boys. (And don't bother calling the SCU—I already jammed the precinct's phone lines with an automated Flamebird redirect. See ya!)'
Peter was staring at the dust swirl afterimage wondering why the hell his spider sense didn't detect that!
Clark was staring at the dust swirl afterimage wondering why on god's green earth she would ditch-oh wait she explained in words. Why on god's green earth were they standing around!
Peter clinched the bridge of his nose, mumbled something about 'was this how Mr Stark felt..?' before staring dead eyed at his roommate whose glasses were fogging up.
"Clark... honest question. Did Jimmy ever mention anything on Flamebird about Lois secretly being an uncatalogued cryptid? Like, is she part Mothman? Does she possess localized teleportation abilities? Because I have a literal meaning..strong sense of when danger is about to happen, and she just broke the sound barrier without triggering a single nerve in my body."
"No Peter, Jimmy did not" Clark said blandly while the fog cleared from his glasses as he took them off and wiped them, took a breath and gave a bemused stressed out sputter "Jimmy just talks about the Goatman or underwater lizard people." He put them back on and looked straight eyed at his roommate "But honestly, Pete? At this point, I wouldn't rule out the Mothman theory."
Peter sighed and clapped his wrists together (that Clark did his best to ignore) while Clark straightened his posture and adjusted his legs for sprint that looked rather like it could leap tall buildings (that Peter did his best to ignore)
"Great. Wonderful. A regular Tuesday in Metropolis. Well, you heard the cryptid, Kent. We have a Team Rocket heist to crash before she tries to interview the a particle canon"
"Honestly, Peter?" Clark just grinned as he started running "I don't think even the Mothman could survive driving the Flamebird van at sixty miles an hour through a pedestrian mall." Both young men were outside and went from jogging to sprinting. "If anything, she's a localized natural disaster. And right now, that disaster has a five-minute head start on us."
Peter blinks, doesn't stumble as jumps a manhole and his feet begin picking up speed to catch up to the getting faster than normal human speed Clark who was also not thinking about Peters getting to faster than normal human speed. A smidgen, turning into tiny smirk of electric neurons firing through the Queens boy usual sad Tragic face of Drama into the Comedy face of theatre.
" Wow. Okay. Sarcasm. Look at you go, Clark. I'm genuinely proud. But if that 'natural disaster' gets vaporized by an alien sound cannon because we were standing here reviewing her driving record, Perry is going to make us archive the microfiche logs from the 1920s as punishment."
Clark had the tiniest of grins over small victory before his face and eyes turned dead serious behind his glasses. "Not on my watch. Let's move."
Peter could swear he heard a heartfelt matronly chuckle that made him both warm and second hand embarrassment. Yet he can't help but chuckle.
Both went forward
_
Forward into the Shitstorm!
"You took your time didn't you?" Lois Lane said non-chalantly as she sat on the seat of the van parked out just around the street fiddling the camera tablet. Like it was a nonchalant way of getting ahead to the bus stop for school before stressed out homework less tagalongs that gasped for air. Dramatically.
The sweat was worrying about the disaster about to happen and trying to hold it off before it escalated. Peter was holding his sides in the tiniest sign of someone trying to hold in their lunch.
"My esophagus is choking me! Choking! Me" And in the span of two seconds Lois threw the camera at Peter who caught it out of quick reflexes.
"Rest period is over, time to start shooting."
Clark blinked rapidly and tried to regain control of the situation. He marched forward.
"Stay here, out of sight where it's safe. I'll call the authorities."
"And we'll get captured/I need to use ATM Machine!" Lois had her hands on arms while Peter had stilled entirely. Same as Clark.
"Wait, what?" The glasses intern giant turned around to stare in wide eyed horror (geeze what did you think was going to happen Kent?) "You call for help, Peter and I will get taken hostage," She stopped herself and look at Peter quizzically
"To set up cameras and make sure building is in municipal health" Peter said lamely.
"I..put a pin in that and stick to my plan" She turned to Clark who was also confused and she continued.
"and then Superman and Spiderman will come and save us. That's when we'll get our interview with them."
"This," Clark pointed backwards, "was your plan the whole time? To find trouble, then ambush Superman and Spiderman when they fly-swing in?" Swinging his arms back and forth then flat.
Peter looked flustered and uncomfortable as a daffodil in the wind and tugged at his collar nervously. "I mean, it..kinda worked when we found Livewire.."
"You did that on purpose!?" Seeing the close up of an eye strained skin pulled back face Clark was making Peter all kinds of guilty while Lois was just rolling with it.
Also rolling with it is Spider-Sense and the giant cascade of Ice bursting out of the bank, cartooning through police barricades and coming towards them like a tsunami out of a poorly made disaster film.
Clark pushed the two away in the most gentlest way before he was overtaken thus giving him the excuse to disappear and don his suit.
"CLARK! ARE YOU OK!?" Lois screamed as Peter held her in his arms protectively, senses alert and eyes narrowed.
"Ms. Lane. Mr. Parker" Says Superman hovering above them, gliding down slightly. "Get to safety" Faster than a speeding bullet Superman went through the ice wall to do battle.
Peter was analysing the layout and the figures inside and knew the obvious danger coming before spider-sense tingled his body into action. He could see Clark trying to deliver a firm warning to shut off the machine and Siobahn just used her mask scream to attack him. Yeah he really needed to train the guy first..
"We've got to evacuate everyone!/We've got to evacuate everyone" Peter and Lois said firmly and went on the attack, Peter hoped that soon they would split further and as they warned and made sure everyone was away it looked less and less likely that Peter could change into..
"Pete?"
Flip was there on her bicycle.
Why was Flip there on her bicycle!?
"Flip what are you doing here!?" He said loudly, making sure there was no one around before getting to her level "It's not safe here!"
She took out her phone, red and pink, with a Flamebird chat on. "Prime Subscription" She said if that made all the sense in the world.
Almost as making sense as when the ice started getting out of control!
Peter grabbed her and without thinking leaped into the air and duck and rolled into the shadows!
"PETER!" A scream.
Peter rolled into a stop with a bedazzled Flip in his arms, setting her down and she was momentarily confused. "Stay here" she heard then realised Peter was gone.
_
Clark felt he was a reasonable man, reasonably humble farm boy from Kansas who it turns out to be an Alien. A super-powered reasonable alien who just wanted the criminals to stop freezing everyone with tech they are completely incapable of handling. Surely Pete was exaggerating when he called them Team Rocket.
I mean..the balloon and cat would make them more wholesome and approachable and would definitely help their image.
But no, he was screamed at, hit by a teenager big boned and (hopefully) bigger heart who is aptly named Rough House by Siobahn who hit him with iron gauntlets which hurted Clark somewhat but with careful application of force he lifted him up and pushed him away. Now to see if he can speed their blows and shift their attention away from civilians and disable the device..somehow.
A crack, a kick through the window and Spiderman swings into action, somersaulting in the air shooting webs and webbing Silver Banshee(Siobahn helmet) to stop her screaming. His body twisted in the air, shooting web to the roof while slowly sliding down the web like an actual spider.
"Wow. Incredible. You guys managed to get your hands on highly advanced, reverse-engineered military technology, and your master plan is... robbing a local bank?" He flitted his hand around. "For respect and money? What is this, a Saturday morning cartoon pilot from 1985?! You have weapons capable of altering molecular density, and you're using them to carry out a plot cliché that could be solved by a generic mall cop!" He spun around to see the rest of his audience.
And in that micro second moment. Siobahn McDougal saw something…amazing. Her growing rage was tempered and interfered with a sight that looked like something SHE, an on the rise master criminal would call that should be a crime for something like to be shown so shamefully in public to threaten women with!
"You're literally threatening people with an oversized ice cannon! Who designed your strategy, a disgruntled middle-school bully?!" With this he turned straight back to her.
Damn him for turning around! It's not like she liked looking and…oh wait she's supposed to be pissed off at this do-gooder!
Silence…
Rough House looked confused and disorientated by the roast, Mist (Kyle) had dropped the bags of money (which he incidentally dropped his invisibility because he was a novice and never thought to keep it on) and Siobahn…
Her face was red with embarrassment (and other things she will not give a name!) and screeched and tried her best to pull the webs off. Her nostrils flaring and a red angry mark on her forehead.
"You…" Then she screamed through an amplifier, the webs not strong enough to hold her helmet together (Peter notes he will have to invest in stronger webs for future) "Dún do chab, a chreatúir shalach gan náire! Bloigeard beag gortach, loitfidh mé tusa! (Translation: Shut your mouth, you dirty, shameless creature! You miserable little brat, I will ruin you!"
The windows had all shattered, Spiderman's fingers were already in his ears. He had a grin which Clark believed was totally not called for into descelating situation! Spiderman unplugged his. He raised his right hand and began listing things with one finger.
"Okay, first of all: 'Creatúr salach'? Please. I've been called worse things by a guy wearing a quilted green mattress suit back in Queens." He raises his second finger "Second, 'bloigeard gortach' is a terrible misapplication of syntax for an urban area—Metropolis is a high-yield economic hub, so 'miserable' doesn't even statistically apply to my tax bracket." Then he raises his third. "And third? Your pronunciation of the guttural consonants in the Munster dialect is completely sloppy. If you're going to swear at me in Irish, Siobhan, at least respect the linguistic geography!"
Her mouth fell open, her brother's mouth fell open. No one wanted to see an angry gaelic cursing Sioban when she found out they accidentally mixed her laundry with theirs. Albert thank god was not that foolish and he was such a gentlemanly fool as to know when not to put his washing in. She gave Kyle shit for it for two weeks and backed off when his pale miserable face and misery was enough to satisfy her vengeance.
To see her be dismantled like this..
Mist was focusing on the mouth when he should've been looking at the hands. For Spiderman's left hand was behind his back and shot out with a lightning fast twhip! a thick strand of high-tensile webbing fires blindly across the lobby, perfectly sticking to Mist's arm-mounted molecular-phaser and pinning him flat against a marble pillar before he can even think about turning invisible.
Spiderman simply turned his head to dumbstruck Superman and Rough House, things were ticking like a clock.
"Hey Blue, Less staring, more civic duty! More civic duty! Take care of the big guy before he realises he's wearing a glorified toaster!"
Superman snaps out of his daze before flying straight at Rough House whose clock had just reached the timer and buzzing. "Hey wait, who's toast-!?"
He was taken out by a blue blur.
Spider Sense was tingling and Peter groaned inwardly because of course now the prototype starts showing engineering faults because it is a prototype and Team Rocket had to have fiddled with it.
Spiderman leapt into action as Superman landed on the floor and looked decidedly concerned. "Spiderman what is happening!?" The machine was going red.
"That is an AmerTek climate-disruption core! They didn't re-engineer it—they literally just jury-rigged a stolen government battery pack to the intake line!" It begins sparking yet Spider-Sense was growing a steady meaning they still have time to disable it peaceably and give instructions.
"It's creating a runaway sub-zero thermal feedback loop! You need to apply a concentrated heat spike directly to the secondary relief valve on the central manifold or this whole city block becomes a glacier!"
"How." Superman didn't shout, didn't need to, he trusted this incredibly smart person who seemed to know way, way more than he does (which raises extremely concerning things about his friend).
"The coolant line on the central AmerTek manifold is completely unshielded! If we can't shut down the energy feed, we have to force a kinetic over-pressure blowout! Use your super-strength to grab the massive industrial steel vault door, slam it directly into the main intake valve on the left side, and hold it there! If you completely cut off the oxygen-vacuum seal, the internal pressure will spike, and the engine will automatically choke itself out and seize up"
Quick, Chaotic, and Reliant on brute force and localized geometry to choke out dangerous tech. Peters guidebook.
That just so happens to hit snag when the torn off vault door just about to slam on the device the Amertek core decided to curl up and die with Spider Sense ringing like crazy.
Premature critical rupture.
Things slowed down for Spiderman, time slowed to a crawl.
His breathing sound was like glaciers gliding into the sea, his eyes widening like moons, his mind going through all vectors.
A fraction of a second was all the time his brain needed.
The Amertek Core blast radius was expanding exponentially. If the kinetic shockwaves hit the structural pillars. The entire building will pancake, crushing Intergang, the bank staff and civilians.
Unnactable.
Can't run to exit. Must use 100% Spider-Agility.
Total Containment.
His hands blur in slow motion as he fires a massive, web canopy across the ceiling, trying to anchor the falling marble blocks. Spiderman felt heavier things, lifting them too.
This is nothing.
Then the blue light hits, and everything hurts.
His voice, remembering the full disconcerting and terrifying reality of a toddler perspective. Purple cracks in the sky, orange light whispered of a spell, two people remaining in the world who held his heart dear..dissapering like dust. Like A Snap.
The web canopy misfires…
Time slams into normal speed like a truck hitting a person in the middle of the road. Peter felt scared. Peter panicked, Peter..
Peter felt a warm feeling on his forehead. A humming that seemed so familiar, so breathtakingly cosy like a warm blanket after a cold night. Peter blinked.
And Spiderman took the reins!
The jagged crystalline ice fractures from the ceiling and falls down onto them, in Siobhan's way. Her helmet short-circuited from the wave. He could feel her disorientated paralysed and totally exposed weight behind him.
He does not think. He does not hesitate. She is a person in danger.
He leaped, a desperate high octane explosion, launching himself across the freezing fog. He tackles her, out of the path of the spike. His arms wrapped around her in protective embrace as debris rained around them. A crash, roll to absorb friction, huh, the impact didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, the glowing blue light was oddly comforting to his senses.
She was pinned beneath him, unharmed and dazed and Spiderman felt a sigh of relief at the rescue.
Siobahn consciousness shook awake, her eyes looking at the data that was getting fuzzy and unlocked the helmet at her command. Her bare face had gasped in air and looked at the position she was in and who saved her.
The second guy to ruin their score.
The second guy who roasted her.
The second guy who lectured her pronunciation (her pronunciation was fine MOM!)
The second guy who had the brains, sensibility and gusto to call out their plans…foibiles straight to her face.
The second guy who had the most amazing…
The bug who wouldn't stop talking and had saved her without a thought to his own safety.
His mask had the most vivid of facial movements and why were his bug white eyes so big and soul staring!?
"Wow. Hey, by the way…I really like your hair. The dye job is awesome"
Her red face and circled eyes could not be seen by Spiderman who was already on the move when the red light came out and melted the ice.
She decided to lay there and let herself succumb to blissful, happy sleep with her heat beating like a War Drum from Culodden. With the little promise in her subconscious that she refused to name that she will tell him her hair is all natural!
(What Peter didn't realise as he swore he heard the muffled laughter from somewhere was making him worried for something that chilled his spine).
Shaking things off he hopped to his feet as emergency workers and first responders came in, Superman standing in the middle and talking to one paramedic. With white hair.
A focused Cold snap hit his neurons at once. The spatial air thinned and the tingle of threat echoed with sharpened homeschooled psy-ops.
Clean-shaven, military-tight posture, his hyper-calculated peripheral vision, and the specific way he carries his weight—a total lack of empathy for civilian life or liberty.
Real paramedics move with frantic, community-focused empathy. The Black Ops pretty boy moves like a sweeper team clearing a hot zone. Spiderman notices that the paramedic uniform fits a fraction too tightly around the suspect's high-density upper back—the hallmark of someone concealing tactical combat tech under standard fabric.
"We took out the machine causing this, but the people in the back got hit hard." He moved forward to the exit "They need help"
Spiderman pretended not to notice the smirk Black Ops man gave Clarks back, Spiderman's attention was on Siobhan aka Silver Banshee (which is an awesome supervillain name) who after being put on stretcher was muttering words "Dun do chab" and twirling her hair. Being pushed by Black Ops.
"Are you going to be alright?" Superman asked carefully and tried to think of ways of saying thanks.
"I'll be good. There is a certain reporter who likes a private interview with you"
Superman blinked and chuckled.
"Well, I think she likes to interview you as well."
"Good." Spiderman says flatly and Superman gave a concerned look at tone and posture. "I need to make sure they are ok first"
Superman thought he should question more on that but decided to withhold and gave a passing smile.
"Thank you. You really did good work today."
"Just being a friendly neighbour"
Superman felt the way that sounded was so very wrong. But he trusted him. He walked outside to a bustling crowd and a worried Lois Lane.
Spiderman shoots webs from both hands to a jump and finds himself sitting on the back edge of the gurney from the rafters. Spiderman's chest pressing on Black Ops back, the web slingers head leaning over shoulder. Target isolated and contained.
And the hand that tried to reach the weapon knew it and stilled.
"Don't tense up, doc." A cold voice, a voice devoid of humor or light. "If your hand moves even a millimeter toward your hip, I will snap the framework of this gurney and pin you to the marble before you can blink." The man felt palpitations "And if you try to start a fight with the big blue guy floating twenty feet away, you're going to blow your entire agency's cover on live television. So we're going to play nice"
The man nodded. It was all he could do.
"Do we understand each other…Mr. Boyband Reject" Spiderman said in a cheery Dennis the Menace tone of voice.
The man was paralysed. Good.
"I know you aren't here to save lives, and I know who's signing your checks. You're trying to bag Intergang for a black site." Spiderman said as if talking about the weather "Here is how this actually goes: You're going to leave the stretcher right here. You're going to walk out those front doors with your hands in your pockets, and you're going to tell your handler that Metropolis is closed for shadow-government business."
Slade panicked (he would deny it!) tried to shift his weight but Spiderman's wall crawling stick-em power channeled through his suit, hand locking onto Slade's shoulder with crushing casual strength like pinching a fly between tips of fingers, a paraphrase of Welcome to my Parlour says the spider.
"Because if Intergang vanishes into a dark room tonight," Spiderman's voice dropped to sub-zero temperatures "I won't just come looking for them. I will systematically hunt down every single weapon shipment your people try to smuggle into the Suicide Slums. I will web your supply lines to the sky, intercept your couriers, and leave your operations entirely bankrupt. You don't want a ghost sabotaging your war, Pretty Boy. Leave the girl. Walk away." The last words were enunciated in clipped tones.
"Say you understand"
"...I Understand"
"Now walk"
Slade walked, walked at a pace that was like someone was decidedly not sedate or calm.
"Hey wait, where are you-" Says an actual paramedic looking in before Slade started running and burst through a window.
"..He really needed to go to the bathroom" Spiderman quipped. The actual paramedics looked confused and concerned.
(Meanwhile in a dark city of Gargoyles, a detective felt the need to approve, disapprove and critiquing someone on interrogation methods. And why does he feel the want to adopt... His white lenses narrow in suspicion at possible outside forces influencing his mind)
_
Outside… On top of a tower.
"Before we start... " Lois sat crosslegged on the gravel, looking over the beautiful sunset while Superman was hovering awkwardly with a smile off a metres "Clark and Peter. Are they okay? They completely vanished after the AmerTek core detonated."
Superman nodded earnestly, his voice warm with only slight anxiety "They're perfectly safe, Lois." He gave her a calming look which she totally dug into. "Clark got Peter out of the blast radius. They're probably... back at the apartment having dinner right now."
"It's 1: 50" Lois looked at him with raised eyebrows as if to say C'mon I know that you are a beautiful flying man but you can't go off the handle like that and not be asked questions.
"An early dinner" Superman said with a straight face as though that was believable fiction.
"You mean lunch?"
"I could go for some Dial H for Hoagies at this moment" A voice from above spoke, giving them a slight jolt as Spider-Man sitting perched on top of the water tower swinging his legs like a teenager. Red and Blue swinging those legs like two little kids in a challenge to see who can swing the fastest.
Then he casually drops down, landing upside-down, hanging by a single web-line directly between Lois and Superman, completely invading their personal space with his expressive fabric lenses blinking curiously wide.
"Hey! Sorry I'm late. Took a wrong turn at the suspension bridge." He turns his head from side to side "Wow, great view up here. Do you guys do this often, or is floating over gravel just a Tuesday thing for you, Blue?" The rapid fire barrage that was Spiderman's mouth was like ratatatatatata gunfire to Superman's ears of needling his self conscious proprietary image he is trying to portray.
Before he could cough he was interrupted (saved) from being jibed (Clark really hoped it wouldn't turn into a roast because he knew he couldn't survive if fellow hero did that to him…he wouldn't would he?) by Lois Lane who got up like a spring chicken and shot out her recorder like an attacking weapon.
"Great! we can begin the interview!"
Spider-Man gave a heh sound before going over to the ledge and kicking his feet in the air. Not a care in the world as Superman gave his interview.
_
Spider-Man smiled beneath his mask, ahh young love coated in secrets. What a great way to have a relationship based on. Not his place to say anything. He had nothing to say.
He felt that warm feeling again, prickling, pinching, worried and..distraught. Why did that make him feel like he was punched in the gut and want to apologize profusely. What was up with him lately.
It felt like..the time he was looking in the dumpster to find the shoes school bullies threw in and he was missing for hours and coming home to a distraught May…
"Alright, Spider-Man. Your turn." He twisted around and sat like a schoolboy sitting for a school announcement assembly. "You've been active in the Suicide Slums. You fought beside Superman today, but your methodology is different. You quip, you make pop-culture jokes, you roast the villains. But when the police showed up, you ghosted. Do you have a family? Anyone waiting for you at home?"
Spider-Man tilted his head slightly as though doing the non-chalant head nodding to obvious praise in the form of a question was a routine byline that you get from a weather report. Then adjusted himself to speak smooth and friendly
"Home? Nah," He shook his head with his arm shaking like it was sweeping dust off himself. "nothing like that. No family, no big waiting party." He folded his hands together in interlocking
Spider-Man heard the sounds of drifting clouds and feeling the warm vibes. His body reacting to these normal parameters was like a rock in the sea. Unchanging and solid. So why did it feel like the air just got colder?
His white fabric eyes could see the shapes of his roommate and senior looking as though someone had kicked their puppy.
"Then why do you do it?" How did she get so close!? "If you don't have a home, if you don't want a name, why are you throwing your body in front of military-grade particle cannons for people you don't even know?" Why was her voice so..soft. He didn't think it was that bad!
Somehow he felt there was a sharp intake of breath that made him feel uncomfortable like he just fumbled an emotional outlet.
"There has to be a reason.". Lois Lane looked at him with those very sad eyes. The less said about Superman the better.
A reason..
Of course there is a reason..
It's the only reason he's here after all..
(The presence waited with bated breath.)
The background noise faded away, playfulness evaporated and the eye-lenses of Spider-Man's mask narrowed and his tone stopped being the high pitched teenager edged Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman. It becomes..Duty.
A responsibility.
"Because..when you can do the things I can do, but you don't…and then the bad things happen? They happen because of you."
Silence. So heavy. Like an anvil was pressing on everyone's chest. Spider-Man felt fine though the looks they were giving him were concerning.
He stood up, popped his joints and let his voice carry a bouncy pitch.
"Aaaand on that cheerful note, I am officially out of time! I don't want the meter running on my web-fluid. Thanks for the chat, Miss Lane! Great talking to you, Blue—try to get some sun, you look a little pale under that cape."
Execute crisp, textbook backflip, shoot web-line and swing into the sun. Funny, it didn't feel as warm as it did an hour ago..
_
"I…I have to go Lois" Such hurt and worry coming from an Invincible mans throat like sand through parchment.
She was clutching her recorder tightly. "Superman.." Her voice didn't have its lustre, it's joy or passion. Something that he finds Abominable. "Did you hear..how he said it..it's like" She breathed in, her breath hitched "he doesn't think he matters"
Superman looked at the skyline, the silhouette blurring into the shadows of an overcast sun on a city that makes everyone look up for tomorrow. The young man swinging under looking like an after-image, a shade fading into the bottom of yesterday..and nevermore.
"I heard him, Lois." His jaw steeled itself like an Armet closing itself for War. "And I promise you..I'm going to talk to him"
He flew up into the air, then down into the shadows where the light touches.
Lois took a breath, inhaled and exhaled.
SLAM!
"Lois!"
A quick ruffling of hair and adopting a frightened humble dust covered and sweaty look of two interns who were huffing and puffing from running up the stairs. Disguise mode activated and…
"Lois!" Good old Clark Kent, earnest and true, went forward to hold her hand in comfort and worry "Oh, man... we saw the ice melt from the lower plaza! Peter and I got trapped behind a fallen security gate in the basement corridors, and we've been running up the stairs looking for you!" Punctuating out with hand pointing, arm bending and flagrant use of worried looking Golden Retriever dog look turned Lois sad smile upwards.
Then Peter Parker, humble (yeah you keep telling yourself that) chimed in "Yeah! The structural integrity of the service stairs was completely compromised, Lois. The concrete layout was a total maze." He had a congratulatory look on his face.
"Are you okay?" Peter's eyes crinkled in worry. He laid a hand on Lois' shoulder "Did you get the story?" Lois nodded and then swept them into a hug, a very tight and warm embrace that felt like a mama bear holding her cubs.
A korean american woman shorter than Peter Parker by five inches was holding her two lovable idiots tightly like a constrictor viper.
"Uh Lois..choking" Peter gasped out. While Clark was just leaning into it knowing Peter was just embarrassed. She let go and gave the good news.
"I got the interview!" She exclaimed in joy, raising her hands in the air.
"Wow! You got the interview! Gee wish golly" Clark pulled his arm apart into the phrase's meaning (Peter thought he was overacting). Peter gave a smile (not completely untrue one thought Clark, thankfully Lois didn't catch on)
Peter was about to say something when he felt a hand on his right shoulder. A gentle hand. A gentle firm hand with the grip strength to crush coals into diamonds as easy as scrunching up a tissue. With the restraint of a good man.
Peter looked up into Clark's blue eyes, seeing the man twisted his head from side to side as if to say 'let it go' which Peter closed his mouth. Lois let go of both of them and gave a smile that was both warm and sad.
"So.." Clark said slowly rubbing his hands together behind his back and looking to the side before turning to Lois.
"Superman and Spiderman..pretty great guys right?"
Peter just looked like he was checking out the birds as he pretty much knew how airtight his statement was. No worries at..
"Oh, One is a liar" Lois smirked. Peter stumbled.
"Oh that's gre-what now" Eloquently spoken Clark.
"The other is…" She sighed and rubbed her forehead. She looked up at Peter "I'll tell you tomorrow..just" She hugged him, gently this time. "It's been a long day".
Peter…Peter felt bad…he is not sure why..
You know why..
Walls were coming up..they had to be restruc-
Clark Kent had his arm around the teenager's shoulder this time, a group hug.
The trio decided it was a good time to appreciate warm silence.
RUMBLE!
Lois Lane and Clark Kent separated themselves from Peter Parker and gave him a flat look.
"..You skipped breakfast! Which I thought we agreed" Clark Kent never looked more disappointed. Peter Parker thought it couldn't be worse.
He was wrong. So very wrong.
For here cometh the doom that is Pure. Unadulterated.
Kansas Mom Energy.
In the towering giant named Clark Joseph Kent!
Which caused maximum hit points to Peter Parker's self-esteem.
"Peter." A sigh of what am I going to do with you was the first metaphorical damage taken! "I left a mountain of blueberry pancakes and three sausage links under the silver foil on the counter." Don't be tempted with delicious food! "I even drew a little smiley face on the napkin." That smiley face is a war crime and you know it! "You touched the coffee maker, but the foil wasn't even moved." Do you have no mercy sir!? Hitting a man while he is down! "A protein bar is not breakfast."
Peter felt if this was an RPG his healthbar was in Critical Mode. The warning klaxon from Star Fox ringing in his ears like a woodpecker finding religious ovation on the wood that is his self-respect!
Wait, quick counter!
"I had breakfast! A Nutritional Bar at 5:00AM" Peter retorted affronted.
"Second Breakfast," Clark arched eyebrow.
Peters eyes widened at the words that came out of Clark Kent's straight-faced flat intonation.
"Kent cooks you real breakfast while you are addicted to chalk bars. That is a civil crime against culinary logistics." Lois joined with her piercing dead eye stare. Why did Peter feel the proverbial sweat drop rain going down his face as Lois Lane edged a little closer looking less of a small person and more like a freaking ENT somehow!
"Eleveneses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and supper" Lois spoke, speaking the questions as though they were bullets launched from the gun that was Lane Maternalism. "Do you even know the standard meal tracking of a proper Shire resident!?"
Peter Parker could swear he felt a wide-eyed grin coming from somewhere in the ether. WHAT WAS UP WITH THAT!?
Wait a minute. His brain was finally catching up. His temperament cured by the insanity that was happening in front of him and all he could do was squeak out.
"You know Lord of the Rings?"
Lois looked at him like he was foolish for asking such a question, then grinned triumphantly and flipped her hair glibly. "...Fool of a took" Then she gave a non-plussed look. "Peter, I spend forty hours a week trapped in a broadcasting van with Jimmy Olsen. Do you honestly think I could survive his Flamebird conspiracy rants without learning the entire geopolitical history of Middle-earth?! I. talk. to. Jimmy!" Punctuated by poking Peter in the chest and flicking his head.
Peter felt something shoot up inside him from his gullet, a hot streak of welcome yet strangely mysterious yet familiar bedfellow whose name is delight. He smirked and pulled up a finger
"Okay, first of all, if you're quoting Gandalf, your vocal register needs to be at least two octaves lower to capture the true authoritative gravitas of a Maia wizard." Put up his second finger "Second, if Jimmy is Aragorn in this scenario, that makes Clark a total Samwise Gamgee—just an overly wholesome farm boy carrying around a pocketful of potatoes and emotional support."
So like Ian McClellan's booming voice did Clark Kent not shout You Shall Not Pass but the silent words of I Will Laugh and You Will Laugh With Me! Sound coming from his diagram. His shoulders rolling and his hands clutching his stomach as he felt the most damage lately from stitches instead of being punched around by Rough House. The laughter spread to Lois who let out a bright snorted giggle clutching her sides and her eyes streaming tears at the adorkable catastrophe that was happening.
Peter felt something tug at the corners of his mouth, a ticking stretching that was pushed out and not pulled out. It felt weird. What was it?
"Aha!" Lois stood up straight and pointed at Peter Parker dramatically like that out of a theatre play. "I saw a smile! I knew my precious Hoobae was human after all" She grabbed him and pulled him down wrapping her arm around his neck and tousling his hair. It felt..extremely nice… "You can't hide that gloomy, case studying law reading exterior forever, Parker!"
Then she separated herself, coughed and tried to look professional while Clark settled down and folded his arms giving them a nice supportive calm look.
"Alright, enough hobbit business." She dusted off her coat and folded her arms while giving a wistful sigh "We need to get back to the office. Jimmy's streaming feed was glitching, so we probably don't even have a single good visual asset for the front page—"
Peter casually pulled his modified camera out of his satchel, tapping the digital preview screen.
"Okay, so... please don't be mad," Lois felt that she was going to be mad "but remember right before the heist started, when I told you I was going to look for an ATM? I actually slipped into the bank lobby to check the municipal building permits posted near the entrance. I wanted to see if AmerTek had legally updated the building's foundational structural reinforcement grid."
Peter explained all this with a straight face.
Though he felt a slight warning in spider-sense of Danger, treading into emotional blow up territory with a sweat looking nervous Clark and a serious-investigative glare by Lois Lane.
"You went into a target zone..to check a building permit?"
Peter thought his next defense would satisfy despite Clark shaking head and hands with a bug eyed worried face (don't do it man!)
"Yes! But it was purely data-driven! And while I was looking at the frame," He didn't notice the dark cloud going over Lois face as it was shadowed by..something. Spider-Sense wasn't tingling so it must be a good sign right?
"I noticed a high-angle architectural molding that perfectly overlooked the central vault. So, purely as a standard archival precaution for the Planet's digital records, I used a piece of high-density heavy-duty mounting tape from my bag to anchor my backup micro-camera up there." He gesticulated with his hands pointing while Clark's jaw was hanging and why is he sweating like a fountain!
"It's rigged with an automated acoustic proximity shutter—I calibrated it to trigger whenever sound frequencies spike above 90 decibels. So when the... Peter stumbled and looked a bit nervous at the absolute quiet of Lois Lane "uh... Gaelic-swearing Team Rocket started shouting, the camera just did all the work automatically!"
Peter wasn't sure what was going on behind her glazed eyes as he laid out the camera as a peace offering, then the spider-sense stopped blaring as she sighs, rubs her face over head and gave an understanding and sad look.
Lois had the most gentle look as she raised her hand to wipe away soot from his cheek.
"You know what, Hoobae? Fine." She said matter of factly "The sound-activated shutter theory is ridiculous, and you're a terrible liar... but it's been a really long day." She gave the most sincere smile yet "I'm just glad you're not a block of ice right now." She chirped.
Peter didn't know what to say to that. He felt he should be worried but he decided to suppress it because he felt it didn't matter.
Lois in a pivot, snatched the camera out of hands like a thief. Her fingernails swiping left at Digital screen displaying flawless, hyper-dynamic action shots.
Superman Mid Flight holding a massive vault door shield framed beautifully by dramatic smoke
Another of a crystal-clear, close-up shot of Spider-Man executing a jaw-dropping, flexible mid-air flip
And a third, capturing the exact split-second the AmerTek machine detonated.
Lois' jaw drops.
Absolute Journalistic Masterpiece
Gazing upon this was like Israelites rediscovering the The Ten Commandments of the Original Stone. She grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Hoobae... you are a literal wizard. Perry is going to pass out when he sees this!" She squealed so full of happiness "That's it—front page secured, Team Rocket demolished, and my intern is officially starving." She pointed upwards into the sky "Change of plans, boys! We are taking the Flamebird van straight to the Suicide Slums strip mall." She looked at the five inch talker intern "Peter, you just earned yourself a giant Dial H for Hoagie with double cheese." She turned and looked up to her one feet higher beautiful kind fellow intern "Clark—you're paying!"
Clark chuckled, smiled and gave Peter an affectionate heavy nudge on the shoulder. "Gladly. And tomorrow morning, Peter? You are sitting down and eating those pancakes."
Peter Parker chuckled mirthlessly "As long as you don't forget the Maple Syrup Kent"
"Scouts Honour." Clark solemnly promised with his hand over his heart.
"Ok People, lets get our boy a hoagie before he collapses" Lois went forward until her phone started ringing. She picked up and motioned the two to go in front of her.
"Hi Jimmy! Did you get the stream-" She paused as the voice carried over was a concerned child voice.
"Whoah Flip! Calm down Yes Peter is fine.." She trailed off, as soon as she was getting down the stairs she stopped and looked at the back of her Hoobaes head.
"Peter is your second secret tutor" She deducted flatly. The voice on the end was quiet before replying.
"You did nothing wrong, Flip. In fact your doing a good job"..
Words were spoken.
"I'm sure he would be extremely happy to see you..because his Sunbae is extremely proud of him..even if he doesnt see it yet" She smiled.
"Until then..he'll tell us when he's ready."
Lois turned off the phone and sped up behind her two favourite idiots. Holding arms around their necks.
_
Authors note: My god it's amazing when all you have is a laptop, holiday and no distractions. Just the single minded focus on writing.
So yeah this is my shoddy attempt to show Peter is both smart strategically and dumb emotionally when it comes to other people. It might be a shoddy attempt on writing drama of disassociate identity and Peters self denial of himself as a person. Other people won't let him.
Say what will you will about AI. If used right a self-depreciating fanfic writer who loves simple power-fantasies can make something at least half-way decent.
About Siobahn... screw it it's fanfiction. So there.
So I am following canon, with the ripples and characters driving the story I hope I have set up something that is different yet ties in with the themes of the show.
Until next time.
Last edited:
Episode 4: Lets go to Ivo Tower, you say?
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Metropolis the Next morning…
Peter Parker began his day, by stretching, taking his coffee, fixing up an Iphone and whistling a nondescript tune as he walked into the file room.
"Superman is a liar"
A pivot and turnaround as Peter stood outside the door. Staring down in his cup like it could hold all the answers in the universe.
"He dodged every question I asked him, Clark!" He could hear the sitting of seats, two of them. All the noise filtered out as Peter focused on them.
"I have nothing!" Peter heard the sigh. He took another sip "This isn't an article. It's…It's a dead end. Ughh" A groan and hearing the sound of the slight creak of chairs and leaning. "Seriously, who is Superman?"
Peter tilted his head up slightly and gave a smidgen of a smile as he felt what was coming.
"Wel, Maybe he's a nice guy who has powers and just wants to use them to help as many people he can." Rolls off the tongue doesn't it Kent! Peter was about to get off the wall before the next sentence dropped.
"Clark, if you or Peter had powers, you'd do that" Peter stood motionless, confused and blinking his eyes.
"..Do you think Superman talked to him yet" Why was the worry in Lois' voice making Peter's chest tighten. Wait what did she mean by Superman talking to him..?
"..I'm sure he's waiting for the right time Lois" He said in the most gentle of tones. "I'm sure Superman will wait just outside his door, ready to talk when Spiderman is ready."
Peter heard nothing but the smooth friction of fabric upon a godly alien's shoulder, being looked at by a worried human woman. A tightening of hands clasped to each other.
Peter Parker is not Spiderman.
So there was nothing to worry about. Though there was something off with Lois not publishing the interview with Spiderman.
Oh well. He shrugged and opened the door and was about to announce his intention for the next scoop involving finding curious places where there may or may not be signals of advance tech in the city (hiding the fact there very well could be an underground bunker of government black ops) untill..
BAM!
Peter put the stack of files on the table. Both of his fellow interns (Lois in her blue office suit and Clark in his flannel shirt) both look bug eyed then Lois got sparkle in her irises at the next big thing
"Hey guys I've checked the digital breadcrumbs of S.T.A.R Labs missing tech. We can get this done by done by lunchtime before Mr. White says-"
GRASP! Spider-Sense did not alert him.
Peters shoulder was clasped by a large smooth bare hand belonging to one Perry White "My office immediately"
Everyone screamed!
_
Perry's Office..
Shouting. Well it was Lois shouting, Clark gesticulating while Peter stood there motionless and staring at Perry White with a blank face. No noise out of Peter, just waiting like Perry with a deadpan expression when the firecrackers stop popping.
Perry laid out his hand like a sign from God that commanded his people to peace. "Relax, You're not in trouble for being the newspaper morgue. In fact," He motioned to the stack of papers on his desk, bound and neatly folded and clipped. "This is an exemplary piece of work, you've got the photo layout, the penmanship and a hell of a work ethic" He..almost smiles at them, eyes looking over each of them "Truly exceptional kids, I mean that, but you're still interns. You aren't ready for the full staff writer desk yet."
Lois' squeezed outrage jaw happens once again!
Then he withdrew his hand "Now shut up I'm about to be nice" Like it was a miracle from the book of genesis.
Perry inhaled and exhaled.
"You keep telling me you want to be a reporter, loudly, repeatedly" Why was he giving Peter the look as well?
"So tonight. I'm going to give you your shot." With this Perry tapped his ipad to illuminate a 3d model of face that screamed punchable and smug entitled. The hair, preening sidejaws that you want to slap, the man bun, the beard.
The beard!
Peter's eyes locked onto the beard and swore he could Mr Stark from the grave would say Ivo was trying to emulate HIS Anchor Beard and missed the anchor and dragged himself through a hedge, like he tried to clone a blueprint he dropped in a puddle. Hold it in Peter! Hold in the snark!
"Dr. Ivo. CEO of Amazo Tech." He paused for dramatic effect and swiped showing images of the company and its graphs "As in, Amazo phones, computers, security, anything else you can think of"
Except having proper facial hair How To Guide Thought Peter.
"And the man who used his criminal connections to displace a whole neighbourhood for his headquarters." Clark said firmly, his eyes staring tightly. "Not to mention the accidents that always seemed to hit his competitors"
Perry shut off the view screen and motioned with his hand as though pointing out an obvious truth, his eyes locking on to Peter in expectation.
"But no one has been able to verify those rumors," He put his hand down to point and tap finger on the desk "and we work in facts."
"Mr. White" Peter comes in and The Chief leaned back to bask in the obvious discourse he was about to receive, Lois and Clark began beaming at this clear validation and chance to bust huge story right open opportunity "Amazo Tech's current stock liquidations match a classic pattern of desperate overcompensation. The man's psychological stability is likely fracturing under corporate duress.."
Perry white put up a finger as if to say stop the presses while shutting his right eye "I appreciate the forensic accounting, Parker, but we need the story. If you've got real doubts, pass your notes to Ronnie." He opened his right eye and the three interns looked behind them to see Ronnie Troupe come in and give a smile to Peter and pick up the files. She stops midway to the door "The door is always open Parker" and she exits.
Lois…didn't flinch but it was a near thing. Clark looked worried and Peter just looked confused. Perry sighed and rubbed between his eyes.
"Fact is," They turned back towards him "He's the most eligible bachelor in the City"
Peter gagged like a fish catching a hook in its mouth at that line before immediately forcing himself back to a placid look which the grins of Clark and Lois showed they caught. Perry continued with a twitch of face and tried to sound professional ignoring the slight slip of laughter in his next segway "So Cats writing an interest piece on him" With a click swipe Perry brings up the building.
"...Oh. Oh, wow." Peter opened his mouth "Did he... did he let a toddler design his corporate headquarters? Is that actually the final layout?"
Lois Eyes widening, instantly smelling a story and feeling a genuine miracle was coming out of Peter's mouth "What do you mean, Hoobae? What's wrong with it?" She said her pen and notebook were out. Clark was thinking oh this is going to be either good or absolutely crazy (Please don't fire us Mr White).
Peter Leans over the tablet, reflexively swiping and pinching the hologram to zoom in on the structural pillars like he's back in a familiar laboratory of Iron and Mechanical Mayhem
"I mean... look at the upper-pavilion load distribution!" Peter pointed out the scene of Hot Shots 2 where the interrogator says sign here and here while showing a clipboard of signatory papers like it was a pleasant business transaction.
"He's using an aggressive geometric taper on a high-altitude structure in a city prone to increasingly dangerous tech misappliance combat. One stray hit and that entire mezzanine is a giant glass guillotine. It's like his entire aesthetic philosophy was 'make it look like an expensive vape pen'." He snapped his fingers back and put his hands in head to bemoan the iniquities of man
"The symmetry is so lazy. It has all the artistic soul of an unrendered video game asset."
Clark nervously adjusted his glasses "Uh, Peter, it's supposed to be 'the future of architecture'..." Trying to sound like a hopeful golden retriever…
Peter puts his hands from his face and gives a deadpan stare to his roommate."Clark, it's an OSHA violation shaped like a skyscraper. And look at the central power grid on this floor plan."
Peter's hands waved to the side to encapsulate the sheer scope of the cascade of disasters in the form that is this building.
"He's running an unshielded, high-voltage energy loop right through the main ballroom. If he locks down the room, he's literally trapping his own board members inside a giant, glowing toaster oven. Who approved this? Did he buy his engineering degree at a dollar store?"
Perry White thought to himself he is so glad he is not drinking coffee, because he didn't think he could survive it causing the searing death of heat death of his lungs. (Death By Laughter, wouldn't Viki Vale love that for his Obituary!)
Mezzanine as a giant glass guillotine….Vape Pen…Glowing toaster oven.. Dollar Store..
Perry White twitched his nose managing to prevent snort from mouth or nostrils but his moustache twitched slightly that the interns thankfully did not catch. His shoulders tense as he tried not to die from the CODE RED CODE RED in his guts. All hands on station, prevent laughter from destroying the liver we need to live to wipe smirk off Vikis face!
Perry clears his throat loudly, slamming the tablet down onto his desk to hide a face that he would sue for slander!
Giggles and laughter were of course around the corner as the head of one Cat Grant peered around the corner like a horror movie monster with a grin of manic glee as she filed her nails. "Oh, please, Chief, let the kid talk. 'An OSHA violation shaped like a skyscraper'? That is headline gold. If Ivo's hair looks as ridiculous as his floor plans tonight, Peter, you're writing my column for me."
Clark looked like he would die of scandalised rigor mortis with how rumbly his chest feels as he tries to cover mouth with both hands, shoulders heaving like rooster feathers as he tries to stifle the noise of doom coming up from his throat with a cough.
Thankfully Lois with manic glee in the eye grabs Peter by the collar of his jacket and Clark by the arm as she pulls them to the exit before death of scintillating Oropharynx .
"Alright, tech-genius and farm-boy, we are leaving before the Chief changes his mind. We have a gala to crash and a vape-pen skyscraper to investigate!" Getting the hell out of there before Perry rescinds their passes.
Hrrrrl groans a wheezing Perry.
He stands behind his desk. Holographic tablet in hand clutching it tightly with enough strength that almost put a dent in. Angry vein popping on his jaw as he stared with irises going small as he tried to maintain dignity of the planet.
"Everyone. Out. Leave and prepare for the party!" He growled out.
He pointed to Peter and by god he looked like something out of the Muppets with his trembling finger, voice dangerously low growl and his lips twitching against express command by brain!
"And Parker. Do. Not. Use. the word 'Vape'. At the gala. Shut the door on your way out. Now!"
SLAM!
Peter had pulled the heavy door shut. Perry's face lost all iron chains as he skedaddled like a schoolboy running from the teacher by missing class. He drops the tablet on his desk, goes to his private corner of the office behind the filing cabinet and lets loose his roaring booming laughter.
"AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!"
He wipes tear from his eye "A high end vape pen!" He tries to orient himself then thinks of another funny situation with vape pens and wonders what kind smell Ivo is inhaling for his choices in life then he doubles over in laughter "God I hate tech bros. The kid is a menace!"
Perry forgot he was meant to tell Lois to impress him (and warn her to only stick to cards and not escalate the situation!) as he was giving an actual reporters job but the Menace that was Peter Parker opened his mouth and he just couldn't!
God what made the kid loosen up like that!?
_
The Bullpen…
Peter thought he heard a woman whistling somewhere in the distance. Then again it was a Discombobulation sound hearing Cat Grant, Steve Lombard (a very reluctant Ronnie Troupe who tried very hard not to smile and laugh like crazy and turned around and went behind her cubicle where no one was looking biting into her leather seated office chair to muffle her hysterical wheezing) and the Daily Planet snort, snigger and belly-laugh.
Lois was patting him on the back, Clark wheezed and spat out guffaws, a red iphone in his hands ringing and giving clapping and standing ovation emojis of over 10,000 Watchers. Flamebird. With the quick video edit Toaster Line on repeat.
Peter Parker felt his eyes widened, his mouth jaw dropping and his skin going whitish pale like a corpse. "What…the hell did I just do!?"
Steve went over and smacked him on the back, broad grin looking confused then intrigued as he shocked his hand out of the pain and winced slightly at it. "Whoa! Parker! What do you have under that flannel, man? Iron plating? I like it! You've got some hidden steel, kid!"
Cat Grant sashayed over, clapping her hands in a slow, theatrical rhythm. She went over and took hold of Peter's hand like it was a precious stone she had to buy.
"Oh Darling! Sweet Boy. Sweet devilish child!" She exclaimed she patted his hands with the approval of a high fashionista. "That was absolute poetry. 'An OSHA violation shaped like a skyscraper'? I am practically swooning. Look at you, hiding a mind like a razor blade under all that oversized plaid. Tell me, we simply must sit together at the gala tonight and dissect your inner snark. It will be the absolute highlight of Metropolitan Gossip! The city isn't ready for you."
Peter's face felt hotter than the fiery battle at the Docks in New York against Tooms. Or when MJ simply told him alright she knew who he was and in such an objective deconstructive way that tore apart his soul..in a good way.
Good way…
Shaking himself off from unnecessary thoughts he pressed on.
"I—I really didn't mean to—I just looked at the load-bearing pillars, it's just basic physics, please don't write a column about me— "
Then like the cold reaper of death Lois Lane leaned in despite all the laughter simmering down with the glint in her eye, making his Spider-Sense tingle slightly. Like the tiniest follicles of featherduster tickling his spine warning him of threat to dignity. She looked him up and down appraising his wardrobe. His hoodie, flannel shirt and everything that screamed stitched together and cheap.
"You know, Cat... if he's sitting with us at the VIP tables, he can't wear that. I happen to know for a fact that Peter's entire wardrobe consists of mismatched thrift-store flannel and hoodies with frayed strings."
Peter's soul felt like it drop kicked out of his ectoplasm and decided to fly away and die in the ether that is the void. He looked at the smug smirk and glowing eyes of sparkling doom with unadulterated betrayal.
He turned his gaze to the shadowed smirking tall woman nightmare that is Cat Grant who also had the gleam and sparkling eyes of doom. His only consolation was that he had a reliable ally in his corn-
Snicker. Guffaw.
Peter did not turn around to confirm his untrue statement as Clark Kent buried his chattering twitching mouth vibrating beneath his palms.
Is there no true honest good people in the world!?
_
Meanwhile At…Strykers Island.
"BWAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Due to the guards feeling merciful and good humoured and proud subscribers to Flamebird they showed the phones to the inmates to show what was so funny.
The laughter bounced off the walls, everyone was kicking and stuffing their faces in pillows to stifle laughter.
Siobahan McDougal was finding her insides were twisting into a tornado of knots, her brother next room was leaning against the walls striking the rock. She could hear Albert on the other side saying I can't I can't just! He is hitting the pillows! While Siobahn thought this was the best thing that happened in a long time as she bit into her pillow sounding like an animal screeching for air.
Polybius is a genius and she swears she will find this fellow anti-establishment figure and get them to join Intergang!
Though if male..and cute..and as spunky and spicy as he seems to be online..
Siobahns face turned a natural shade of red. As her mind went to…lower appreciation..
Just as soon as she inhaled knockout gas and fell the fuck to sleep!
Damn Intrusive Thoughts and Sleeping Gas!
She waddled and fell face first on the pillow.
It was getting to the good part…(which she will deny..zzz)
_
Downtown! You don't want no beef boy NO DAMN THAT SONG! (Intrusive Thoughts brought on by the anxiety that was Peter's impending DOOM!)
Metropolis High End Boutique Store..
Or rather the hell that is Metropolis Modé.
In the darkness…A click of a switch and Peter Parker looked up to face judgement from on high, his hands laid to the sides as he drank in the arid smell of iron and dust. His eyes were fervent and pleading, his tone quivering at first until it firms and he says out loud to dispute the prosecution of his soul.
"Lois, Ms Grant!" He stated firmly "municipal press guidelines clearly state that junior interns without formal accreditation cannot attend corporate shareholder events involving proprietary military-adjacent assets under Section 9…"
Light like heaven blinded him into the file room and two women wearing black suits and glasses like fashion agents from hell have come to audit his soul into the fabric of open respectability and strip away his clothed cocoon of safety bubble wrap that was his flannel shirt, hoodie and the new stretched out sneakers he brought from thrift store.
When his eyes cleared and his self destructive anxiety stopped blinding he realised where he was. His thoughts went to a quote that was perfect for what he found himself in.
Somebody once wrote, 'Hell is the impossibility of reason.' That's what this place feels like. Hell. I hate it already, and it's only been a week. Some goddamn week.
A sprawling, tri-level marvel of curved glass, floating chrome fixtures, and polished white marble floors that reflect the bright, neon-blue ambient lighting strips along the walls.
Instead of traditional, cramped clothing racks, the store utilizes hovering display rings that gently rotate in mid-air, showcasing the latest designer streetwear, high-end blazers, and luxury formalwear. Mannequins aren't made of plastic; they are translucent holographic projections that mimic the movement of a crowded runway, displaying outfits in real-time.
The entire atmosphere feels aggressively clean and optimistic, with massive panoramic windows looking out over the Metropolis skyline. In the center sits a luxurious velvet lounge area where Steve, Ronnie, and Clark hang out, complete with a complimentary espresso bar that serves drinks with intricate foam art of the Daily Planet logo.
Peter bit down whatever he was going to say. He was holding it in to release into his pillow when he got back to the apartment and expelled the distraught feelings of embarrassment and shame before the gala.
When the judgement on high pointed their fingers, direction of the change rooms where an entire building block of clothes were situated to the side.
But Peter was looking at the change rooms because of course they weren't ordinary wooden stalls with curtains. Oh no that would be too poor for such an establishment.
For they were honest to god individual, circular mini-suites enclosed by massive, heavy velvet curtains that slid open and shut with a satisfying, dramatic swoosh. Like something out of a Bond movie.
(Peter feared looking at what sort of James Bond they have here in this verse. Best let sleeping dogs lie)
Peter made a mental breakdown list so he can catalog and deconstruct the nightmare that he was in.
The Smart Mirrors: Inside his stall, the walls are entirely lined with cinematic, floor-to-ceiling three-way mirrors. These aren't regular mirrors oh no, they are "Smart Glass" displays that flash with a subtle digital interface, automatically calculating his measurements via a gentle green scanning beam, tracking his broad shoulders and narrow waist.
The Lighting Modes: A small touchscreen panel on the wall allows Cat Grant to control the environment from the outside. With a swipe, she can change the room's lighting from "Midday Press Conference" to "Gala Red Carpet" or "Dramatic Spotlight," casting Peter in a literal, shimmering anime aura every time he puts on a new piece of clothing.
The Dramatic Reveal Stage: The floor of the changeroom is a slightly elevated, circular wooden platform. When the curtain slides back, it functions like a mini-stage. The lighting shifts instantly, and the mirror reflections multiply, forcing Peter to stand directly under the judgmental, highly analytical eyes of Lois and Cat while his Stark-style physique is put on full, undeniable display.
Peter felt his shoulders slump and with the greatest hesitation and the beating of his heart did he consider that fighting a purple genocidal grape from space was less terrifying than this!?
Apparently so as Cat Grant snapped her fingers, credit cards whipped out from her coat, shining like the sun straight from Yugioh. An army of terrified department store employees rushed to wheel out rolling racks.
More racks.
Then giant, towering stacks of designer boxes. That piled up to make a small tool shed.
It grew into a small cottage.
Then a standard 2 story-house
Then into a mansion.
Then finally when Peter's head couldn't stretch any further up. The monolith of shopping bags and boxes that reached the roof of the building like the Tower of Sauron in Mordor. Except the background instead of darkness and fire dissolved into a dramatic, stylized pastel explosion of fashion labels and price tags.
Peter's soul felt like it left his body the second time with the spectral wisp coming out of his mouth, eyes white glazed and uttering the great vocabulary of meep!
For when he saw the receipt that stretched endlessly from a movie he can't remember or think his words returned to him in blank toneless existential dread.
"..This... this costs more than my old apartment in Queens. This is a crime. I could have bought a particle accelerator for the price of these socks."
Lois and Cat decided to ignore the Queens or the Sci-FI slip-up because this requires their full attention. Lois put away her glasses, posing heroically with her fists on her hips.
"No excuses, Hoobae!" She spoke aloud with the cheer and excitement of little gremlin energy "You are a representative of the Daily Planet now! No more wearing shirts that look like they survived an alien invasion!"
Clark was standing like a still statue. His eyes glazed with mirth as he talked on his phone and said aloud. "Jimmy is so, so very happy you don't have to wear his old middle school track jackets anymore. He is literally crying tears of happiness"
Like a man awaiting his execution but knows there is no way out Peter sighed, and walked with the edges of his eyes watering with painful tears to the change room with an aw shucks but smirking Clark Kent.
_
Inside..
Peter stared at the mirror covering all of him, looking at the hover racks, the green scanning lasers that he thought the Resident Evil film/games had nothing on the sheer terror of what it's like to be under the light of their measure of his inseam. The holographic mannequins doing a runway walk across the marble floor like something that should be in a videogame and not in respectable real life made Peter Parker finally open his mouth muttering, letting what he believed was a small exhalation of stress release.
"A scanning laser. For trousers. Because a tape measure is apparently too primitive for a city that builds skyscrapers out of glass panels and hopes and dreams. Look at this lighting. 'Gala Red Carpet' mode? It's a dressing room, not the premiere of an Avengers movie. If Tony saw a floating ring of blazers, he wouldn't buy them, he'd weaponize them and launch them at an alien mothership. I am trapped in a giant, expensive kaleidoscope."
And somehow despite it all..it
The quiet sanctuary..
He took a moment to breathe as the bullpen noise outside went quiet and he was allowed to relax and tentatively stepped out of his functional(but disastrous says Cat Grant) frayed, faded flannel and sliding his arms into the crisp, pristine fabric of the tailored shirt felt... incredibly nice. It was the first time in a very long time that he wasn't just wearing clothes to hide or to survive. The fabric was light, clean, and perfectly molded to his frame, carrying a subtle, premium scent that didn't smell like a thrift store bargain bin.
It felt nice to change into clean, fresh and new clothes. Almost like a dream..except it was real. Horrifying, terrifyingly real.
Too real. For someone like him
Then Peter felt that warmness again, that hand on his shoulder, the stroking of his scalp in soothing rubbing that made him feel like he was in a blanket. Why was it so nice? Why did he feel like a little kid again when his Aunt May took him to get new fabric for her growing nephew…
Peter rubbed his eyes with his bare hand to drub away wetness. Salty wetness. It must have been glass in his eye.
(He was sure his web eyes protected his eyesockets)
A strange lightweight giddiness overtook him as he turned around and waited for the curtain to open until he realized something was off..he looked at the three way mirror and noticed the glaring difference. For the gentle green scanning laser had rippled down from the ceiling to calculate his measurements, a localized, high-frequency kinetic pulse had apparently vibrated through the air currents around his head.
His hair was combed by green lasers.
For what was once his usual, slightly unruly, messy post-web-swinging mop had turned it into a perfectly, flawlessly styled—brushed back with a sharp, elegant, effortless precision that looks like it took a celebrity stylist forty-five minutes and half a can of premium pomade.
Peter slaps both hands to his cheeks, completely breaking his cool, sophisticated Stark-style silhouette as a massive, animated sweat-drop manifests on the back of his neck.
"Wait. Hold on." He exclaimed loudly. "No way! How can a green light comb my hair?! That's not how photons work! That violates at least three fundamental laws of thermodynamics and basic structural biology!" He moved his hand to pick at a strand of well coiffed hair that bounced straight back into its wind tunnel tested vision "You can't just bounce a localized electromagnetic wave off a human scalp and expect it to apply a side-part!"
He hear Cat Grant's melodic laugh tapping her designer heel on the marble floor
"Oh, calm down, darling. It's the Metropolis Modé patent-pending 'Groom-Beam.' It maps your facial structure and uses micro-sonic air manipulation to align your follicles to peak aesthetic perfection. Honestly, Peter, for a boy who understands quantum physics, you're awfully old-fashioned about a simple blow-dry."
Somehow Peter heard the chortling of a billionaire playboy philanthropist from beyond the grave as well as the light chuckle of maternal warmth that he finds himself with.
The curtain rises and everyone gets a good look at Peter Parker, Genius Prodigy of Law, Military and Journalism who tried his best to act demure and end up looking like a humble prince.
For upon the circular wooden platform he adjusted his cuffs and looked impossibly sharp looking like the emperor had no clothes.
The charcoal suit he is wearing is a masterclass in sophisticated, minimalist design. The jacket is constructed from a lightweight, matte-finished technical wool that holds a perfect crease, framing his broad shoulders and tapering cleanly down to a slim waist. Underneath, he wears a crisp, high-collared white shirt made of premium Egyptian cotton, unbuttoned just enough at the collar to look effortlessly sharp. The vest is a structured, dark slate grey with low-profile matte-black buttons. The overall silhouette is a direct, undeniable echo of the classic, tailored elegance that a certain genius billionaire, playboy philanthropist famously wore to his corporate press conferences—clean, functional, and implicitly commanding.
Their eyes widened, mouths agape and sparkled. Joy and admiration and they were about to utter a sound until..
"Hi-Ho! Kermit the Frog here!"
A giant cricket chirp echoed in the boutique. Silence until..
The wall of noise happens..
Lois steps over with stars in her eyes snapping her fingers.
"Kermit can wait, Parker! Look at those clean lines! The vest? The tailoring? You look like you're about to host a keynote presentation and launch a satellite. Anthony Ivo's security team is going to let you right into the VIP lounge without even checking your press pass!"
Deflection did not work..
Cat Grant waves her perfectly manicured hand dismissively at the top tier impression. Sashaying forward with a look of absolute triumph.
"Oh, sweet boy, don't try to hide behind a puppet. You are a masterpiece right now. That charcoal wool is doing things for your silhouette that a green frog could only dream of. Tonight, you aren't an intern—you are the Daily Planet's secret weapon."
Deflection did not work…
Steve Lombard of course did not get reference, he went forward to circle Peter like a scout looking at a prime athletic draft pick, practically vibrating with excitement like a girl asked to the ball by the most handsome boy.
"Forget the frog, kid! Look at the posture! You're standing straight for once! Ronnie, tell me I'm not crazy, the kid looks like he's built out of solid brick!"
Deflection did not work….
Only Clark Kent, true to his good nature, understood that reference with a chuckle. True to himself, a true friend, a bro-(wait what?) gave Peter acknowledgement that warmed the young man's soul.
Then he decided to mess it all up by adding praise.
"It's a good try, Peter. But I don't think a Muppet impression is going to make us forget that you suddenly look like a tech billionaire. You really do look great."
Peter's face went red as the sun of Rao(What is Rao!? He thought silently) and sweatdropped the back of his well combed head.
Then as soon as he imagined the nightmare was over they just kept pulling him in (Godfather Part 3 Reference I know brain Peter thought but it happens)
For as soon as the praise died down the boutique's automatic glass doors slid open with a crisp, futuristic whoosh. For right in the middle of trying to recover his dignity—frantically flattening down his Groom-Beamed side-part, rubbing his burning red face, and trying to slouch his broad shoulders back into his comfortable "invisible ghost" posture—when a chaotic clatter of sneakers and bikes sounds from the entryway.
The Newskid Legion bursts right into the high-end lounge area of Metropolis Modé, completely ignoring the "VIP Only" signs. Just like the ragmuffin go-getters they are.
Peter wondered if he accidentally created the next generation of the Goonies and shut that thought down with an iron lock!
Flip Johnson, a woman of business skidded to a halt on her bike right on the pristine white marble floor, drops her jaw. Her eyes morph into giant, gleaming anime circles that look like mini moons to Peter's eyes.
When did he get used to this kind of thing!?
"Whoa! Hold the presses!" She was spending too much time with Lois. "Is that Peter?! Mr. Parker, what happened to your molecular density? You look like you just got a budget increase for a season finale!"
Peter understood the words but can't understand how a little girl articulated such verbose language with such a straight face!
Big Words, adjusting his oversized goggles, walked a slow, analytical circle around the elevated platform where Peter is trapped. He strokes his chin like a seasoned runway critic. Peter wondered why in gods name the little kids here grow up to be such shits!
"The geometric precision of the stitching on that slate vestment is structurally absolute, Mr. Parker!"
Oh kid, who gave you a dictionary!? Who I ask would give an impressionable devious mind such a tool for mischief and mayhem! WHO!?
Lois was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Peter's list of suspects narrowed down to ONE!
(Somewhere a stern looking General looking over monitors drinking coffee felt his ears burn and a sense of unknown camaraderie with reckless explosive subordinates)
"Your visual presence has undergone a hyper-evolved aesthetic upgrade."
Good god he should really cut back on nighttime activities if this what his unregulated mouth spewed into the ears of these impressionable tykes! (He could feel Clark's raised eyebrow as though he could read his mind, dammit Kent can you not be judgey right now!?)
"Furthermore, thank you for helping us recalibrate the sub-space frequencies on our shortwave scanner yesterday—the calculus you provided was profoundly robust!"
Well it wasn't that hard if you knew the..oh no…
Peter freezes, his eyes staring with the utmost seriousness at the Newskids. He holds a finger to his lips, frantically trying to shush them. "Guys, guys, keep it down, please, it was just basic math, it wasn't a big deal—"
Lois, true to form, clasped her hands over her mouth, threw her head in the dramatic head turned back that Peter felt no resistance to the idea at all (he was in an anime world!) opened her mouth with her eyes sparkling.
"WHAT?! Peter?! You are the secret tutor the kids have been talking about?" Suddenly a presentation appeared with the newskid legion connected to Question Mark Persona that flipped to reveal Peter Parker! "The mysterious tech genius who has been helping them with advanced physics behind my back?! Oh, the scandal! The absolute, unprecedented betrayal of my investigative reporting!" She threw her arms to the sky to beseech god for deliverance!
Peter groans, throwing his head back and burying his face in his hands. : "Lois, stop it, I know you knew. I can see the sparkles in your eyes. You're not fooling anyone."
While Lois was doing her Broadway shenanigans Clark Kent stepped up the plate; A massive, radiant smile spread across his face, his eyes beaming with pure, golden-boy joy and admiration for his friend. He steps forward, adjusting his thick frames, looking like a proud older brother.
The giant with glasses and flannel spoke with the love of self respect he thinks Peter Parker has "Wait, really?! Peter, that is so sweet of you!" Oh here comes the cringe sweetness could you at least trim it CLARK! "I knew you were looking out for them! Lois, stop teasing him, this is amazing." His eyes go back and forth with his happy hands and arms moving around like an animated yo you "See?" Clark's tone became a gentle timbre that just makes it hard for you to imagine strangling the wholesome bastard! "I told you he has a big heart."
Peter felt a breath coming up on him and as he tried his best to stifle hissmile and laugh and then a lightbulb went off his head
(Yes, a literal lightbulb! Roll with it!)
"Wait a minute…" He said and tried to do a stern older brother figure lecture tone that the Newskid glibly ignored "What are you kids even doing here anyway? This is a high-end Metropolis fashion boutique." He laid his hand at them and pointed with his finger!
Flip wanted to say don't point your finger at me, it is rude to point!
"Aren't you supposed to be on your paper routes?"
And just like that, Lois Lane looked away, crossing her arms and letting out a remarkably loud, completely non-chalant whistle, her eyes tracking a non-existent bird on the ceiling.
Peter blinks, his eyes turning the size of rectangles again to focus entirely on her. "Lois. You called them." It wasn't a question but a statement of pure unadulterated flatness. His hand was down and he folded his arms to give a stern lecture pose.
Lois thought he was absolutely hilarious and sheer naive to think that such an action would ever topple her big sister role!
She went up and gave a playful nudge to Peter's elbow, quickly cutting off the kids before things got too dramatic.
"I called them because you need to face the music, Parker! We have an assignment to crush, and you're the only one who can translate Anthony Ivo's tech-bro jargon into actual English for my notes. Consider this your official field-test."
Wait, was that what this was all about!? Why did she..
Lois gave him a warning look. Her eyes flicked to him and then to Flip who was giving a calm expectant look and..ohhhh.
Peter went down to one knee on the ledge, he looked at the girl with contrition and concern.
"I'm…glad you are okay Flip"
She gave a stare, then her eyes watered a bit then she got from her bike and gave him a hug. A tight little hug.
"Dummy! I'm supposed to say that" She didn't cry, she got her head from his embrace and wiped whatever tear she was having and patted his clothes. "Take care of yourself Okay" She said with the most serious face.
Peter just huffed and was about to give a smile that..was stopped by Flip hand "When you mean it Okay" She said firmly.
Peter blinked. He didn't know how to answer that. Then she got up, jumped off the ledge, picked up her bike.
Hopped onto the pedals, then saluted Peter with a grin.
"So Yeah, Mr. Parker!" She punched the air with her fist "Go show that Ivo guy what real Metropolis brains look like!" She began moving with her feet, getting into position "We've gotta get back to the paper route before Perry notices we borrowed the delivery map!"
Big Words nodded solemnly, adjusting his goggles.
"Godspeed on your corporate reconnaissance, Mr. Parker. May your tailored load-bearing vestments shield you from any structural anomalies tonight!"
With a chaotic flurry of waves and sneaker squeaks, the Newskid Legion bolts back out the glass doors as quickly as they arrived, leaving the boutique suddenly quiet again.
After the helicopter-like movements of sneaker squeaks and bicycle bells, the remaining Daily Planet staff stand in the sudden silence, collectively processing the verbal whirlwind that just hit them.
Steve Lombard breaks the silence first, throwing his hands on his hips and letting out a low, deeply impressed whistle.
"Man... I don't know half the words that kid with the goggles just used, but I gotta say—I like the cut of their jib! Those kids have hustle. Reminds me of when I was a rookie, just with a dictionary swallowed sideways."
Ronnie Troupe chuckled, crossing her arms as she looked out the glass doors where the kids vanished into the Metropolis traffic.
"Advanced vocab is an understatement, Steve. Big Words is nineteen steps ahead of the local school board. Honestly, I love their energy. They've got the kind of sharp, relentless drive you just can't teach. If they keep running the streets like that, they're going to own the Planet's investigative desk by the time they're twenty."
Cat Grant gently dabs the corner of her mouth with a silk handkerchief, a thoroughly amused, aristocratic smile playing on her lips.
"Oh, they are an absolute riot. 'Geometric precision of your slate vestments'? It's practically theatrical. I adore them. They have a certain... urban panache that is completely missing from the tech-bro circles these days. Peter, darling, your little fan club is a masterpiece. If you ever need to outsource your inner snark, you've clearly got a brilliant junior department."
Peter stands on the platform, his face still a light shade of pink as he adjusts the sleeve of his sharp charcoal jacket, though he can't help but smile at how easily the kids won over the toughest critics in the office.
Why did she 'take of yourself' I do
Peter thought he heard a sigh of maternal frustration and..a little sadness. That made him feel guilty all of a sudden.
"Yeah... they're a handful. But they're good kids. You just have to make sure you don't let Big Words near any high-voltage wiring, or he will rebuild your scanner to intercept satellite data."
Then when thinking about satellite data which would lead to catalogue and computing a sudden slight twitch of worry comes upon his forehead which he stops to look at the skyscraper that he forgot about.
"Wait! what am I going to put all this stuff in!"
Cat Grant only shook her head to turn backwards to him, kept on walking "Oh, sweet boy, don't worry about the logistics." waving her hand in a circle "If worse comes to worst, we can just store them in Perry's office behind the filing cabinets." She said that with a straight face yet somehow a smirk as if using her Boss current blindspot would not raise hell for everyone "He's already laughing so hard today, he probably won't even notice the sudden influx of premium charcoal wool."
Until he stops laughing Peter almost bites out.
From the back of the lounge, Steve Lombard barks out another booming laugh, giving Peter a heavy slap on the shoulder that Peter actually has to brace himself for this time.
"Just wear three suits at a time, kid! Layering is in! Build muscle texture too!"
Lois Lane clapped her hands together, a dangerous, competitive spark instantly returning to her eyes as she pointed toward the exit.
"Alright, enough admiring the junior staff and clothing departmartanalisation! The red carpet at Ivo Tower is officially active. "Cat's right—the Planet van is waiting, and we have a tech billionaire's ego to dismantle." Her head snapped to the exit. Her hands folded into Peter and Clark's arms and pulled them towards adventure!
"So let's move!"
_
Nightime… The Daily Planet..
After getting the clothing skyscraper to be inserted into a secure location, (Perry simmered to giggles and glares that melted and gave time off for everyone until the 'quarantine is over') and doing prepwork and relaxing until evening.
They got changed and Peter saw Clarks reaction to Lois outfit and a miracle happens in his consciousness
Yep, his brain is completely fried. I used to think my spider-sense was a lot to handle, but Kent looks like he's currently experiencing a localized EMP because of a formal dress. It's actually kind of nice seeing someone look hopelessly in love... though if he blushes any harder, he's going to accidentally heat-vision a hole through the copy machine. I give them two weeks before he accidentally blurts out his secret identity, or before she completely figures it out because he's a 6-foot-4 brick wall who turns into a stuttering puddle every time she breathes.
(Oh Peter you naive sweet summer child…)
So when he realises Lois is in front of him Peter reacted with appropriate discipline courtesy.
(Which means he is unaware of his face and mannerisms are betraying his brains command and commit grand arson of defensive social walls)
His jaw drops slightly. He gives her a bright, enthusiastic smile, his eyes lighting up with the protective fondness of a true hoobae.
(Yeah..I can call myself that for this evening..no worries..It's flatline..
Booting up with Maternal influence beating toxic self doubt away)
Lois Lane was wearing what seemed to be a traditional jeogori, but then you turn around and bam—totally modern, sharp, backless twist! The contrast between the structured top and the way the high-waisted wrap skirt flows is just brilliant. It has this amazing kinetic energy to it, like a classic chima but completely re-engineered for a modern gala. two-tone color blocking? Seriously, the color theory here is flawless. It's bold, it's confident, it completely commands the room. Honestly, it makes perfect sense for her
"Wow, Lois. You look... incredible!" His eyes literally lit up and he gave an appraising ovation "Seriously, the dress is amazing. It's elegant, but it still has that 'I'm about to break a massive corporate conspiracy' edge to it." Peter went forward and raised his hands up and down to appraise "If Dr. Ivo doesn't give you an exclusive interview out of sheer intimidation, he's crazier than I thought." He clasped his hands together.
Lois beamed, completely thrilled by the compliment, and proudly adjusted her collar.
Then Peter turns and walks a slow circle around the towering farm boy, gesturing wildly with his hands.
"And look at you, Clark! You actually cleaned up! No flannel, no oversized boots—you look like a legitimate, high-flying tech executive." He clapped "Honestly, if the journalism thing doesn't pan out, you could easily secure a job as a high-end security guard for a billionaire. Or a superhero. You've definitely got the shoulders for it."
Clark chuckled warmly, rubbing the back of his neck, entirely amused by the kid's rapid-fire energy.
Lois was smirking, adjusting her earring "Alright, Smallville, stop staring before you burn a hole in the floor." She leaned her head to the side at her hoobae "Peter, back me up here." She twirled around "Do I look like a hard-hitting investigative journalist ready to take down a billionaire, or what?"
Blinking caught off guard and he spewed out words in a slurry(he believes hurried pace of the damned) "Uh—yeah. No, definitely. You look great, Lois. Really great. Like, 'ready to dismantle a corporate empire' great." He gives a thumbs up.
Lois beamed and grabbed her coat "See, Clark? The kid gets it. Now.." Her grin turns catty and earnest which should not go hand in hand but here we are…
Lois crosses her arms, taps her chin, and gives him a grand, theatrical introduction ..
"Look at you, Peter!" Lois beams, her eyes wide with mock-aristocratic pride as the words came like a pronouncement of a herald . "With that posture, that structure, and the way you carried those massive camera cases earlier? Cat was totally onto something. You look like the long-lost, secret runaway scion of... of an Invincible Golden Avenger! Like a rogue prince who escaped from some high-tech Tales of Suspense, leaving behind a legacy of Iron and Industry to live a pure life of truth and justice in the streets of Metropolis!"
Peter…Peter felt like someone opened a hole underneath him and he was falling for thirty minutes..(why that long specifically?) visibly choked on his breath. He turns completely pale, his heart hammering against his ribs in absolute shock. The shock of the punches..the man who built his first real suit, mentored him, died and how he picked up after his messes and was forced tomake everyone forget him.
Clark's hand moves with lightning speed, dropping to Peter's shoulder to steady him, while Lois steps in close, her eyes wide with genuine, maternal panic.
"Peter? Hey, look at me," Lois says, her voice dropping all reporter edge, becoming incredibly soft and urgent. She reaches out and takes both of his hands in hers. His fingers are ice-cold and trembling. "Peter, you're breathing too fast. Stop. Look right at my eyes."
Clark drops down slightly to match the teenager's height, his giant, warm hands wrapping around Peter's trembling arms, grounding him with steady pressure.
"Breathe with me, Peter," Clark commands gently, taking deep, exaggerated breaths so the boy can copy the rhythm. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. You're safe. We're right here. Just focus on my voice."
Peter grips Lois's hands back with a desperate, tight intensity, squeezing so hard that if he were anyone else, it would hurt. He locks his eyes onto Lois's protective gaze and copies Clark's deep breathing. Slowly, the phantom image of a fading arc reactor disappears from his vision.
After a long, heavy moment, Peter's breathing stabilizes. He lets out a shaky, exhausted sigh, looking incredibly bashful as he realizes he just had a full panic attack in front of his coworkers.
"I'm sorry," Peter whispers, awkwardly pulling his hands back to adjust his tie, his ears burning crimson. "I... the suit is just really tight. And vocabulary words. 'Dynasty.' High-society stuff always makes my blood pressure spike. Totally normal orphan welfare kid stuff. Let's... let's go cover the gala. Lois needs her front page."
He marches forward, their eyes looking at him in concern and Peter stops. Looks back straight at Clark and Lois
He stands up straight, adjusts his lapels with a sudden burst of frantic, fast-talking energy, and flashes them a brilliant, slightly over-rehearsed smile.
"Okay! Wow. Crisis averted, the penguin is stable! Turns out charcoal grey is just a very emotionally restrictive color," Peter quips, waving his hands dismissively to brush the whole moment under the rug. He walks toward the exit, turning around on his heel to face them as he walks backward. "Let's get moving, Romeo and Juliet. We have a corporate empire to legally dismantle!"
He pauses mid-stride, his brow furrowing as his own pop-culture reference registers in his brain. The trauma of losing people he loved hits a brief roadblock of pure, studious pedantry.
"Wait, no. Shuck. Scratch that. Romeo and Juliet both die at the end. That's a terrible analogy. Why did I say that? Terrible vibes for a gala."
Peter taps his chin aggressively, pacing backward into the hallway while Clark and Lois watch him, a mix of relief and amusement breaking through their worry.
"Let me think... Uh... Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase! Yes! They went to the literal underworld and survived. Or—or Han Solo and Princess Leia! Wait, no, he gets frozen in carbonite and then... down the line... let's not think about the sequels. Okay, how about Shrek and Fiona? Yes! Shrek and Fiona. True love, great soundtrack, nobody dies, they just live in a swamp. You two are officially the Shrek and Fiona of investigative journalism. Now come on, the catering waits for no man!"
Lois bursts into a loud, genuine laugh, entirely charmed by her hoobae's chaotic mental turnaround, while Clark lets out a soft, booming chuckle, shaking his head.
_
And now..for the main event…
Nightime..
The Ivy-Vape I mean Ivo Tower.
The night was dark; the lights were on, the people going in like ants into a hill where they are adorned in the prettiest and overly expensive clothes. Peter always wondered about when he joked about the Oscars with inhaling cheap pizza and ribbing the endless variety of absurd and stylishly voveryistic outfits that celebrities wore.
He thought of his two best friends and his mind went to a good place.
Ned would probably be losing his mind, geeking out over the futuristic, holographic smartphone technology, whispering that Peter looked like a high-level corporate spy on a top-secret mission. MJ would look him up and down with that classic, beautifully sarcastic smirk, tease him about looking like a tool of the capitalist elite, and then quietly admit that he actually cleaned up pretty nicely.
They're gone now. Nothing you can do about it
"Peter?" Lois Lane's voice cut across from the seat right next to him in a smooth cadence of warmth and concern in a low yet loud tune right into his ear. He looked at her and felt his face relax and gave what he hoped was a reassuring grin.
Clark leaned forward, adjusting his glasses with a look of pure, gentle Kansas concern.
"Hey, Peter? You okay? You went kind of quiet back there." His brow furrowed "If the suit is too tight or this is all getting a little too fast, we can totally tell Perry we got stuck in traffic."
Peter blinked, breaking out of his memory palace. He forces a glib, defensive smirk onto his face, leaning his head back against the seat with an exaggerated sigh.
"What? No, I'm fine, Smallville. I'm just more worried about waiting around. Honestly, sitting in the back of this van in formalwear feels like we're being wheeled into the arena. May the odds be ever in our favor, right? Just call me the District 12 tribute." He gave what he hoped a wider reassuring grin.
Clark Kent gives Peter Parker a soft, completely unamused but deeply caring deadpan look, waving a hand.
"No. No Hunger Games references, Peter. You are not a tribute, nobody is hunting you, and Lois is not Katniss Everdeen" Clark's mouth twitched and his right eye crinkled in mirth to the side and his lips let out a sound of a chuff "even if she looks like she could take down a security guard right now."
Lois chuckled, nudging Peter's shoulder with her notebook. "Hey, I'd make a great Katniss. But Clark's right, Parker." Her eyes flashed with compassion "We've got your back. Just remember to breathe."
In the passenger seat Cat Grant rolls her eyes elegantly, tapping her nails against the dashboard and decides to do the one thing that is hardest in her life.
She held her tongue.
Sighing softly "Well... as much as I would love to dissect the social hierarchy of Panem and how it perfectly mirrors Anthony Ivo's investor board, I think I'll save the lecture for the red carpet. Peter, darling, just keep that hair in place. The city is watching."
They stopped at the curb. Opening the door onto the red carpet.
And the vultures came!
_
Peter took only one step out before someone noticed him, took two steps before that person rubbed her eyes, took three steps before that female squealed and started flashing.
Camera. Emphasis on Camera.
For The Metropolis Press Corp like a pack of hyenas. All it takes is one curious look, then getting a sniff of the meat they go wow with stars in their eyes before tapping her fellow cameraman hard in the shoulder like a kid trying to get them to look at the first sight of a dead body.
Of course Stepen King exists in this Verse! Thought Peter at the intrusive thought as the one camera flash instantly turned into a firefly cloud of doom like that of a Balrog.
Why wouldn't they when he looked like a hyper-wealthy, incredibly handsome tech prodigy from an elite Silicon Valley circle. A collective murmur ripples through the high-society crowd.
"Who is that?" "Is he a rival investor?" "Look at those shoulders, he's gorgeous!"
Without even trying the lights veered from unknowable minor celebrities into a startling new thing. Like that of a fresh undiscovered species of animal coming into the zoo.
He freezes mid-stride, his eyes turning into tiny, panicked white anime dots. Turning his head slowly toward Lois and Clark, he whispers in a tone of absolute, high-velocity nervous terror:
"Help me. Please." He pleaded. "There are so many flashes. Why are they looking at me? I feel like a glowing target in a video game." He shuffled his hand forward in a come help me motion "Clark, shield me with your mass."
Lois chuckled and Clark went forward with her as good chaperone/protection detail for Peter, but before Lois can tease him, Cat Grant elegantly slides past them to check their press credentials. She pulls out the official Daily Planet invitation card, upon which Perry White had furiously scribbled a strict, bolded warning:
DO NOT USE THE WORD VAPE PEN.
Cat looks at the card, lets out a dramatic sigh, and snaps her fingers. The card instantly bursts into a bright purple flame of theatrical disdain, burning up into ashes in a second.
"Oh, please. Perry has no sense of dramatic flair. It must have had a sudden, tragic case of the... spontaneous combustion!"
Before the security guards can question the floating ashes, a reporter shoves a microphone right into Peter's face.
"Are you a new venture capitalist from Gotham?"
"Uh, hi-ho!" Some of them laughed appreciatively at the joke showing that there are some cultured people in this world "No, no, definitely not a capitalist. I'm actually just a simple freelance photographer." Peters leaned back a little and moved his eyes to the side bashfully "I just... take pictures of things. Very basic stuff. Please point the lens away from the silk, it's leased." He said with true modesty which he hoped they would find false.
The press corps collectively gasps in admiration, apparently they find it true. "He's so humble!" "An artist! A brooding, mysterious genius!" Peter lets out a defeated sigh. His attempt at being blase has completely failed again. The grinning faces of his comrades behind him were not helping things.
(Why did feel as though a beaming proud blue light maternal presence was behind him giving him a pat on the back and why DID his tie felt like it was being fixed a little!?)
_
So when they finally got the elevator to the a clearly overbearing height that Peter held his tongue from saying something like an obvious overcompensation joke. They stood out or rather Peter would've stood out as he did behind the two of them and talk about game plan. After Peter made a strategic zoning surveillance of the vicinity. The most important tactical information…
Looking at a silver platter of micro-greens and a single seared scallop, Peter whispered:
"I'm pretty sure this catering service is a front for an international tax haven. Who pays eighty dollars for a single piece of seafood that looks like it died of loneliness?"
Lois tried to suppress a snort, swatting him hard on the shoulder. "Shut up, Peter! Don't make me laugh, we're supposed to be professional journalists!"
Clark choked on his sparkling water when Peter looked at the official press question cards Perry gave them and started riffing on them.
"Okay, Card Number One: 'Dr. Ivo, how does it feel to revolutionize the energy sector?' Boring. Card Number Two: 'Can you explain the baseline quantum mechanics of your battery cells?' Still boring. We should ask the real question: 'Dr. Ivo, why does your corporate presentation look like an off-brand tech keynote hosted by a guy who definitely practices his evil laugh in the bathroom mirror?'"
Lois is laughing so hard she has to hide her face behind her notepad. "Hoobae I swear to God, if you say that to him, I'm giving you all my archiving duties." But then she stopped. She considered what she said and had the most queer looking expression on her face.
Clark Kent being the most reasonable adult of the bunch felt something wicked this way comes. He looked at Lois with concern, Peter looked like he just opened Pandora's Box. While Lois…
Pulled out several specially made cards. Colorful, brightly lit cards with precise handwriting that Clark Kent was sure they would be hastily written.
"You planned this" Clark Kent spoke as the grave. Peter's trembling shoulders and shaking shivers permeated his form as Lois nonchalantly was auditing her questionnaire cards with an observant and inquisitorial Cat Grant at her side leaning over her shoulder. Cat gave a nod of approval.
"Lois, Ms Grant I'm sure Perry White gave us precise instructions not to ask questions that would evict us from the premise..or the state" He said the last part while looking over some of the cards as his eyes went bug eyed and he was sweating. Then he realised when he looked up he saw they weren't there.
Neither was Peter.
Who was accosted by fawning and appreciative rich people and taking photos while rich women and a blond haired girl were interacting with him in a very interesting way that he screamed in his posture help me god help me. Clark turned circular to view Lois was asking rapid fire questions that instead of garnering disgusted or disinterested looks he got galvanised and sweating yet perversely intrigued and some looked like their graves were walked over.
Surely questions never hurt anyone..
"Excuse me, sir, but regarding Ivo's proprietary holding shell companies in Delaware: how does your portfolio account for the piercing of the corporate veil once the Amazitech drone pilot program inevitably faces class-action product liability for non-delegable duties in high-density municipal zones?"
A major venture capitalist holding a martini froze, his face draining of all color. He looked at Clark's towering frame, then he swallowed hard, leaned in, and whispered frantically, "We already liquidated forty percent of our shares this morning! Please, don't write that the SEC is looking at the Delaware loophole yet!"
I just asked a basic tech question, why is he confessing to insider trading?!
Clark's eyes went completely bug-eyed as he frantically scribbled down notes, realizing Peter's advanced legal logic had just accidentally busted a corporate conspiracy.
Then Clark overheard Lois talking with her recorder out.
"General, a quick question for the column: given that the Pentagon's strict procurement guidelines outlaw autonomous lethal AI without a hardwired, analog kill-switch, exactly how much did Ivo Labs spend on 'consulting fees' to bypass Section 804 of the National Defense Authorization Act for these specific drones?"
The poor unfortunate victim: A heavily decorated four-star general enjoying a shrimp cocktail.
Reaction: The General nearly choked on his shrimp. He stared at Lois, then glanced at Peter who was showing his lens to a curious bright eyed blond teenage girl, The General nervously adjusted his collar. "Look, Miss Lane... the Pentagon's oversight committee hasn't officially signed off on the field test. If you quote me, the court-martial will be the least of my worries. Just say 'sources close to the joint chiefs' are reviewing the ethical redundancy protocols!"
Lois beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. She surveyed the area and saw Peter sweating and blushing at the advances of pretty rich women who laid a hand on him covering the camera and whispering things in his ear. Lois gave him a thumbs up with sparkling glint in her teeth.
Clark scratched his head, his worries ebbing and flowing like a Kansas thunderstorm. He looked at his neon coloured note
"Wait, what is this one... 'In light of New York Times v. Sullivan and the modern precedents regarding actual malice, does your media conglomerate's active financial stake in Ivo Tower's stock constitute an actionable conflict of interest, or are you just counting on a public retraction to save you from a defamation countersuit?'"
The chief editor of a rival Metropolis media network.
Reaction: The rival editor went entirely rigid. He looked at Clark, sweating profusely under the pressure of Clark's massive, imposing presence, and stammered, "We... we spiked the positive review article! It's not running tomorrow, I swear! Just don't let Perry White run a front-page exposure on our portfolio!"
Clark's eyes practically popped out of his skull. A literal drop of sweat fell from his brow. He looked down at the bright pink card in his hand, then at Peter, who was casually adjusting his camera lens with the calm demeanor of a seasoned veteran while women cooed around him. Clark realized, with absolute terror, that he had just aggressively interrogated a media mogul and gotten a full, terrified confession just by reading Peter's notes.
He looked at Peter, then back at the notes, then back at Peter and now back at the notes thinking What even is this!? Then back to Peter who was flipping him off..wait what no that was just a squinting eye and movement of his hands, bowing slightly as he pointed at Clark telling fellow guests out loud his fellow partner looks like he's having a panic attack and needs some air.
So Peter managed to extricate himself, march forward and drag Clark Kent by the arm into the open balcony and then threw up his arms.
"The moment the heavy glass doors shut behind them, cutting off the chatter of the gala, Peter threw his arms up in the air and let out a frantic, low-voiced scream. "Oh my god! Oh my god, Clark! I am a broke orphan from Queens! Why are teenage heiresses trying to ask me about my venture capital portfolio?! I don't have a portfolio! I have twenty dollars and a metro card!"
Clark would point out Peter was not poor by any metric for reasons too many to count, he just liked to live in self flagellation like those fake priests in the Da Vinci Code movie.
But that was neither here nor there.
Clark let out a long, ragged breath, loosening his collar as a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. He held up the bright pink cards like they were radioactive waste. "Peter, I looked at you, and I genuinely thought you gave me the finger from across the room."
"What?! No! I would never do that to you!" Peter barked, a classic segue of panic in his voice. "I was trying to save us! Did you see those people? One of them asked me if I preferred investing in decentralized blockchain or automated bio-tech. I told them I prefer standard, old-school mechanics because 'wires are more reliable than vibes.' They wrote it down like it was a prophecy!"
Clark leaned against the stone railing, rubbing his temples. "Peter, I asked a man a question about military AI procurement, and he almost started crying. He told me his wife was going to leave him if the SEC got involved. What kind of questions are these?!"
"They're called leverage, Clark," Peter snarked, leaning next to him, finally relaxing a fraction. "Back home, you learn that if you don't ask the terrifying questions first, the guys with the giant tech towers end up accidentally dropping a building on you. Trust me on this one."
Through the glass doors, they both looked back into the ballroom. Lois was absolutely having the time of her life. She was practically vibrating, aggressively cornering another board member with Cat Grant standing right beside her like a proud, predatory mentor, nodding along as Lois delivered another devastating line.
Clark stared at his partner, a mixture of profound awe and absolute dread washing over his face. "I am frankly terrified of what we have unleashed," Clark muttered aloud, his voice trembling slightly. He looked down at the younger photographer, a soft, genuine warmth breaking through his panic. "But... Peter, you're a really good friend. Seriously. You're doing all of this just to help Lois get her story."
Peter rubbed his head and looked bashfully with a small self-depreciating smile. "I'm just doing my bit Kent"
Kent. Not Clark.
Clark was picking up on things.
Terrible, implicating things. Then he remembered why this was a good place to talk and let the air out. It's what Ma and Pa did to help ground himself.
When he felt like he could levitate into the sky, letting gravity fall away and let himself drift into the clouds..alone.
You doing more than just a bit Peter
Clark leaned backwards on the balustrade, looking over at the party that is the whirlwind of chaos that is Lois Lane armed and dangerous. How stunning, how beautiful she looks gliding around socialites who after hearing a signal klaxon sound from the Time Machine became pale as ghosts and sweating like naked seals did they ovulate their panicked confirmation of secrets.
Clark knew those words might need some checking but who's thinking at the moment anyway when you see her..
He didn't realize he sighed in happiness. He did realise Peter's taunting smirk. Oh yeah Mr Peter Parker can't stand to smile in happiness but he will engage in petty cathartic scorching of his friend.
If only he could make Peter say it out loud..
Peter knew Clark was looking at Lois and what he was thinking, then Peter relaxed his shoulders and sighed. Giving the bigger man a look.
"Honestly, Clark?" he put his right hand forward towards her as she made a trust fund man literally piss his pants judging by the hurried steps to bathroom "Just be honest with her. Girls like Lois... they're smart." Peter adorns a sad wistful smile "They see right through the clumsy act. When I was dealing with... with MJ…" He choked slightly. "she figured out my entire secret before I could even find the words to tell her. She just looked at me and knew. You don't have to be a savior around her." He looked at the ground "Just be Clark."
Clark stared at him, feeling pangs in his chest and coldness on his skin and his eyes felt like twin moons of moisture about to come.
He wasn't sure if it was him or…
(A mothers tea-)
"Who is MJ?" Clark quietly intoned curiously.
Like a spell, Peter shot up and looked panicked, eyes darting, surveying for danger, his form like a trapped animal. Stilled for one paralysing moment until he realized there was no danger. Peter looked up at Clark in confusion before shaking his head and giving out a very, very fake laugh.
Peter pivoted, snapping his camera shutter at a passing bird in the dark to distract himself. "MJ! Uh, right! Michael Jordan! Huge fan. Total basketball legend. Just, you know, thinking about how he kept his baseball career a secret and it didn't really work out for him. Totally relevant analogy! Anyway, look at the time, we should probably get back inside before Lois realizes we aren't actually having a medical emergency!"
Clark didn't say anything. He couldn't. Not yet.
His instincts were getting sharper when danger was afoot.
Particularly when the lights went out.
_
There were very few things in Peter's life he could say he hadn't experienced. It was now reduced by one on this night. A celebration one thinks.
Peter Parker experienced Hate at first sight.
The pretentious hyping of oneself with one's own voice. The spewing of buzzwords like ticking off of a checklist.
The boy genius who, at 22, disrupted the way we interact with technology..."
Disrupted? Tech Bro word for 'broke something that worked and charged people twice as much to fix it. Boy Genius? Using twenties as a personality trait because he hasn't made a single legitimate breakthrough since.
"Oh, oh, oh, what? Oh, hey, that's me!" A chuckle and gargle of water
…fake gargle champagne, Mr Stark would think that's a waste of good liquor. Oh wow he practised the laugh in the mirror didn't he? Tryhard billionaire playboy philanthropist confirmed because Mr Stark would walk inside a room with sweatpants and command because he understood MATH! This beanpole is sweating through a bespoke suit
"Okay, my assistant Alex went all out, so a round of applause for the little people."
Oh yeah 'little people', insulting the one guy who did the catering, ran the diagnostics, built the tech and pretty much did everything. Treat him like a footnote and I can see the guy's face calculating how much force it would take to cave in your skull with the same champagne bottle.
"Ah. Boom! A perfect but pretentious throw! Nailed it. A chuckleWell, sure, that, obviously, put that on the Tube..."
He said 'Boom' and 'Nailed it' in his own introduction..yeah I'm going to bring this overcompensating clown down!
Ivo was Quentin Beck without confidence or charisma. Justin Hammer without the Rhythm. He was asack of wastrel flesh pretending it had a spine.
A warm hand was felt on his shoulder. Calming him down as the pompous jackass, (for that was what this cretin was) did everything that is wrong in the presentation handbook. Peter took a breath and drank his fizzy water, staring with the most intense deadpan eyes at the sauntering preening buffoon who came to meet and greet. Until he was accosted by a heavy set black man in white suit, an investor and to Peters estimation a soon to be a victim of emotional breaking of a unhinged twip.
"Ohhh." Uttered Cat Grant drinking a long glass of champagne, the beautiful caramel silver going down her throat was silent as though it was a palette cleanser after smelling something repugnant. Lois and Clark were looking at their younger little brother figure (Clark has yet to tell her about his impressions of Peters mental health) with concern as they see a stone faced Peter Parker with the only indication of his mood was the fluttering of his eyelashes and minimalist tightening around his face and eye corner skins.
"..I'll interview Ivo" Clark went forward without input.
"Second!" Lois said loudly, excited for her card and worried that this might escalate out of control
(She will not say that outloud because it is hearsay!)
Cat Grant merely put her glass down and sashayed forward with the most wide eyed grin imaginable. Like a Cheshire cat has found the mouse. "Now for the main event, my sweet devilish child"
Peter thought he heard the lyrics. Is this entertaining? From the song Bones by Imagine Dragons. Finishing off his drink he put on a little table and noticed that the curious bachelorette groupies (vultures!) are circling him and his mind was going to Demon by Starset.
Odd lines of thought but maybe he just wasn't in the mood for corrective sounds echoing in his cerebral cortex as he had positioned himself just within hearing distance and looking at Ivo talking with Curtis the board member. (Which thankfully the vultures had picked up on Peters look and paused to listen to the whispered conversation becoming loud)
Everyone could see Curtis' frowning disposition and newfound sweat as Ivo grappled him in manic daze as soon as the words 'broke' and 'so listen to me' by Curtis exited his mouth and Ivo seized him by his shoulders.
"No, no, no, no, no you listen to me" The panicked sound of desperation masking itself as a seizure of control.
Thus began the pontification of a brand new product, the sweating of Curtis by Ivo's unhinged nature and the threat of harm. The 'redefine humanity' and 'all the money problems will go away' the exact same line tech bro's say right before they get indicted for wire fraud.
(Peter was feeling Mr Starks energy tonight)
"So why don't you go ahead and keep the board happy until the end of the night?" Desperate, powerless move masquerading as a request. Asking his shareholder to play babysitter to the people who are currently holding the guillotine rope.
Cough throat.
"Excuse me Dr. Ivo"
Good old Clark coming to another's rescue, a firm polite exterior of an intrepid reporter holding recorder to the smaller man's face.
Ivo let go of Curtis who backed away and Ivo tried to pivot and see Clark. "Excuse me, what now…I didn't realise Reporters came in this size what are you a linebacker."
A quick hit.
"Think fast!"
Slam!
"Ow!"
Peter thought Ivo's sore wrist would be the least of his troubles.
Then the words came. Peter ignored the majority of it, Cat Grant raised a very, very slight eyebrow at the 'little lady' comment. Ivo was on a roll in trying to egg Clark into the mano el mano brotherhood to bribe Clark into forgetting Curtis' debacle in exchange for private interviews and meeting 'Classy Girls'.
Then they saw Lois trying to mumble, preening and chewing on an oversized, overpriced caviar like a chipmunk.
And Ivo made the 'uuugh' sound with his tongue sticking out and distaste.
Peter's hand tightens the glass, almost hearing the sound of cracking. The women of high society had picked up on Peter's face and they had the self preservation instincts to back away by the overshadowed look that cast on Peter's face.
"A real classy gal, you know?"
Ivo's arm tried to encircle a stone cold Clark who went to his full height and towered over Ivo. Ivo began to sweat.
Clark didn't need a card. He decided to use his own words. His own calm, politely cracking fury.
"Well, I'd say your company displaced an entire neighborhood in a real estate deal connected to the Gazzo crime family," Clark said, his delivery carrying a heavy, unyielding gravity. "Is that what you'd like to focus on?"
Ivo's greasy smirk completely vanished. He blinked, stunned by the sudden, fierce shift in the giant reporter.
"Or perhaps you want to comment on the investigation into the fires that took down your other competitors?" Clark continued, stepping forward so his shadow completely eclipsed the billionaire. "Because I'd love to talk about that, mano a mano."
Lois's jaw dropped slightly, a surge of fierce pride hitting her as she watched Clark completely clock the guy.
Peter Parker and Cat Grant however were nowhere near that merciful. Or forgiving.
Peter stepped smoothly out from behind Clark's massive frame, his eyes cold and fixed on Ivo like an interrogator.
"And while we're talking mano a mano, Dr. Ivo," Peter interjected, his voice terrifyingly quiet and razor-sharp, "let's talk about how those displaced properties tie into your current engineering grid. Because according to AmazoTech's public SEC filings from last Tuesday, your upper-level energy draw currently exceeds residential-commercial zoning laws by exactly four hundred percent."
Ivo staggered back a half-step, his face turning a brilliant shade of crimson as he pulled at his collar. "That's—we had an expedited municipal review! Curtis, where is the paperwork?!"
"You didn't get a review, Anthony," Cat Grant purred, stepping up to flank Peter like a seasoned general closing a pincer movement. "Because my sources at City Hall say they haven't signed off on a single watt of that extra power."
"Which means," Peter pressed, stepping right up to Ivo's personal space, cornering him like an arachnid about to spring. The intern's heart rate is perfectly steady despite the venom coating his words, ready for the Chelicerae strike "utilizing an unauthorized, un-vetted heavy ordnance power shunt to bypass city monitoring inside a high-density civilian sector isn't just a corporate oversight. It's a Class-A federal violation. And since you just admitted on my active press recorder that you routed around the relays to hide it, you've legally established intent to defraud. If that grid blows, you aren't looking at a lawsuit." Peter's fingers splayed and encapsulated the area around Ivo like a man who caught a big fish.
"You're looking at a mandatory ten-year minimum in a federal penitentiary."
Peter leaned in just an inch closer, the friendly neighborhood kid entirely gone. One finger up. "Lois Lane is the up- and coming star reporter of the Daily Planet, Dr. Ivo." Peters had a focused intensity like a satellite finished calculating a perfect orbital strike as he unleashed his second finger pointing "You, on the other hand, are a future inmate. Just so our readers have the exact quote for tomorrow's front page."
"It's a proprietary shunt!" Ivo blurted out defensively, his bloated ego completely overriding his survival instinct as he cracked under the dual pressure of Kansas ginormous moral wall and a smartly dressed legal trap in the form of a small powerhouse that was stealing everyone's attention!(the last part is most important!) "The future doesn't wait for city code!" He ovated,
Which to everyone's ears sounded like that of a middle schooler squeaking that he did his homework by doing the headlines of a mathematical essay and only putting english answers in number points as though that constituted passing the grade.
The room went dead silent. Curtis put his face in his hands.
Into the dark corners of shocked, appalled, entertained, sparkling eyed geriatrics and snobs and all around more money than sense folk: a certain underpaid, underappreciated Alex was practically suffocating trying to hold in his laughter like he had swallowed caviar halfway until his esophagus decided it should react badly to the adrenaline shot of humour into his overworked, overstressed and over-done with his non plus emaciated self.
Peter casually tapped his pocket recorder, turning to Lois in the corner with a sudden, bright, completely fake smile that didn't match the absolute ice still lingering in his eyes. "I think we got the quote, Lois." Peter began walking over to her "Lead story's all yours." He raised a hand and she smacked it instinctively.
Peter took one more step, froze as his secondary brain functions caught up with what he just said and done. Second step realising the absolute silence of everything. A pall of quiet breath, as though waiting for their heartbeats to begin beating. Peter slowly turned around to see…he didn't think.
Oh….shit
Lois was walking on cloud nine towards Ivo, Clark Kent had the most wowed (and was that a deep level of concern over his face?) Cat Grant looked like she witnessed a miracle on ice, the investors all around had phones in their hands and scrolling down what seems to be high numbers going down. Down. down..
Ivo's face looked like someone filled a bag full of oxygenated blood helium balloons where the slightest touch would pop until like his pinprick eyes of inadequacy saw the phones, the looks, the sheer awe the..
Spotlight was not on him…
They were looking at this…
This…
"Lois Lane. Daily Planet! Dr. Ivo, given the severe structural compromises my fellow reporter just highlighted," With her grin widening to something that Cheshire cat would be envious of inch by inch of the question "did you design this tower to withstand the realities of modern Metropolis," One inch "or did you simply scale up the blueprint of a luxury vape pen to sell a hollow illusion of the future to your investors? and.." Somehow it looked like the teeth went past the mouth with a card in her other hand and her eye squinted at it.
"Why does your corporate presentation look like an off-brand tech keynote hosted by a guy who definitely practices his evil laugh in the bathroom mirror?'?"
Anime Physics.
Pin drop.
Ivo's face went white as a sheet, sweat coming down like rain on pastry. His body stood still, he could feel his hands shaking, his facial muscles twitching. His mouth opened and closed and looked like a gawping fish hanging on dry land. He looked like he would have an aneurism of the soul. With his twitching vein pushing flesh that was about to erupt his eyes just managed to convey the situation for room just enough to conclude that kicking these UNGRATEFUL NEEDLING PESTS OUT! Would not be the wisest of choices.
Corporate Negligence and Military Violations would be his tombstone before the night is over.
So he took a breath and mustered the only wise course of action. The one with magnanimity and dignity of a futurist!
"Alright! Okay! Clearly, the Daily Planet has a very... imaginative fiction department!" Ivo forced a high-pitched, wildly unconvincing laugh, his hands shaking as though he was trying to calm down an excited crowd of worshippers rather than the stunned, observant andLAUGHING guests of high society and business. "But we are here for science, people!" He said the last part loudly. "Not municipal paperwork!" He circled his hands and spun around looking like a peacock if it pretended it had any feathers left! "The main presentation is about to begin in the auditorium! Let's go see the future!" So he stomped away. Not realising he did not have a microphone as the silence carried his shame over the entire people.
For he was throw-stomping.
(He thought he was walking away from small minded peasants who didn't understand his misunderstood genius!)
He was practically manic, his shoulders locked up to his ears, his arms swinging too fast, and his expensive Italian leather shoes hitting the floorboards with a series of loud, hollow, rhythmic thuds. He was completely oblivious to the fact that his "visionary walk" looked exactly like a toddler sulking because someone took away his favorite toy.
In other words the Absolute Ultimate Bitch Move.
As soon as Ivo was out of the room. A sound could be heard.
CLAP!
CLAP!
Everyone turned to the blond teenage woman who looked as though Heaven above sent the son of Mercury, Mars, Minerva and Venus (she had rudimentary knowledge and highly active imagination so she assumes they can all have children with each other at the same time so its normal to think that) to take the the halls of power and topple the false idol.
Then the clapping infected everyone.
Peter Parker looked at them, then at himself, then back to Lois who was giving him a double thumbs up while Clark awkwardly clapped while Cat Grant gave a whistle and gave a glass.
"A toast to the main entertainment" No shame at all.
Everyone raised their glasses.
Peter wanted the floor to open up and a monster to reach out.
He is simply off in a few minutes.
_
Peter decided the best course of action was to say he needed to go to the bathroom.
He took a frantic step backward, nearly tripping over a decorative topiary. "Bad shrimp. The, uh... the aggressive geometric taper of the catering buffet is causing immediate civil liability to my stomach."
…Why does it look like they don't believe a word I said and are those womens eyes going supernova..!?
Go go go go go!
Into the gold plated double doors of a bathroom (gold on bathroom doors seriously!?) Flinging himself inside, he let the heavy soundproof door click shut behind him. The high-society chatter vanished. Peter lunged for the marble sink, slapped the automatic sensor, and splashed freezing cold water over his face. He gripped the edges of the sink, staring into the mirror at his perfectly combed hair, his chest heaving.
Washing his face and drying it and his hands and questioning every decision he has ever made.
"What the hell did I just say!?" He muttered. Then he blinked and looked befuddled "I didn't even say that last part! Lois did and.. 'Vape-Pen..'Glass Gulotine!' Who talks like that? I'm supposed to be an anonymous intern! I'm trying to keep a low profile, and I just audited a billionaire's floor plan like a psycho prosecutor!"
Next to him Clark Kent in his big mountainous form giving off weird vibes (big brother energy a voice whispered in the ether)
"Well... if it makes you feel any better," He said clearing his slightly fogged glasses from the humidity "I think the exact moment you lost them was when you used the phrase 'unshielded high-voltage energy loop.'" He intoned the last part imitating Peter's faux deadpan.
Peter lifted his head from his hands, giving his roommate a thoroughly SUPER deadpan, miserable stare. "Thanks, Clark. Super helpful."
"And then you really drove it home when you did that whole aggressive finger-snapping, hand-waving thing to encapsulate the cascade of disasters," Clark added, his blue eyes twinkling with genuine amusement as he mimicked Peter's frantic hand gestures. "Very theatrical. Very 'tech-tycoon-ordering-a-hit-on-a-competitor'."
"Ha, ha," Peter said, his voice dripping with pure, unadulterated sarcasm. He grabbed a paper towel and aggressively dried his face. "Incredible. Truly. Lois is out there writing a front-page article that's probably going to call me a 'shadow tech savant,' Cat Grant is going to try to profile my non-existent tax returns, and those women by the punch bowl looked like they wanted to dissect me. I need to get out of here. Right now. Without drawing a single eye."
Spiderman needed to start sleuthing because if trouble is about to go down he needs to be up and ready for it.
Clark Kent took a moment before taking his glasses off and looking at them, looking at himself in the mirror, looking at Peter and his normal expression and demeanor. How Peter was frustrated, put off yet determined like an actual teenager rather than..whatever that was in the gala. He wanted to ask where that venom came from, he wanted to ask what happened to him but most of all he wanted to ask..
Are you Ok?
"Peter.." He was about to continue but thought better of it "Alright, I've got you" Clark said softly, readjusting his glasses and instantly slipping back into his bumbling, uncoordinated persona. He grabbed a stack of extra hand towels, deliberately tripped over his own oversized shoes, and pushed the bathroom door open.
"Oh! Whoops! Sorry! Excuse me!" Clark boomed loudly, intentionally stumbling directly into the path of the approaching security detail and a group of curious onlookers, scattering paper towels across the hallway like a one-man avalanche of clumsy Midwestern charm. "So sorry, I just—my glasses, they're so foggy, did anyone see where the ice sculpture went?!"
With the entire hallway's attention completely locked onto Clark's spectacular, engineered disaster, Peter slipped out of the bathroom door like a ghost, blending seamlessly into the shadows of the utility corridor and disappearing before anyone could ask him for his business card.
Clark would ask him later.
He needed to check on Lois…
Where Cat Grant told him she was out to decompress in the stairs non-chalantly.
The exact same stairs leading to labs.
Of course she is..
_
Slipping down the emergency stairwell. He needed a minute to let his hyper-stimulated senses cool down and figure out how to slip into his costume. No cameras, good. Web shooters: check, red and blue under charcoal suit: check, combed hair needs to be ruffled back to its normal shape: check!
He paused on the concrete landing two flights down, melting into the shadows to pull his mask out of his pocket.
"Showtime." He muttered with gravitas.
(He did not squeak and leap into the shadows when he heard the steel doors open two floors up.) He tactfully cling to the shadows like a perched silhouette in the darkness outside the light.
Then he heard the familiar footsteps of his co-interns
(He was somehow hearing a raised eyebrow that made him feel scrutinised and so very very shamefaced and embarrassed.)
If he moved now, the echo would give away his position. So, he listened. Like a fly on the wall or in this case..
A Spid-
Why am I thinking puns? Why AM I THINKING LAME PUNS!
"I still can't believe it," Lois's voice echoed down, breathless and vibrating with an electric, hyper-positive energy. "Did you see Ivo's face, Clark? Peter practically put him in a legal chokehold, and honestly Cat stomping his groin with her heel would be less painful than what she did!"
Clark Kent made an oof sound. (Peter would deny he uttered the same cadence)
Peter managed to see from the corner light, edging himself closer to see up the stairs or a clear view of them sitting on the steps.
"If this doesn't get us the front page, nothing will." She was laying back pleased "But honestly? Even if Perry kills the story... we're going to get there. Very soon. I just know it."
Clark chuckled, his warm, steady voice bouncing off the concrete. "You're incredibly confident tonight, Lois."
"Because I have you guys," she said softly, and Peter could hear the fierce, grateful smile in her tone. Then she noticed something on the big man's shoulder.
"Take off your clothes"
Excuse me! What!?
"Excuse me! What!?"
"The Jacket badboy!" She said teasingly. "I've ripped enough blazers running after stories that I'm always prepared."
She took her jeogori off to reveal her backless white top of boldness. Clark Kent was seeing something magnificent and Peter had to shield his eyes to protect his seniors modesty because he was a gentleman.
She took out her matchbox sewing kit unaware of the flushed and blushing farmboy who took off his jacket to reveal his godly physique with doleful eyes and glasses that make him a possible walking crime to elicit unsolicited attention from male and female admirers.
Lois Lane's cheeks gained a soft glow of redness as she shyly looked away.
"Oh, wow, uh. This seems old, how was it a highschool jacket?"
"Chess Club. I never played sports" He looked downwards in mollification.
..There is no way she is buying that Clark…
They looked intently at each other. Deep in their eyes. Their faces inching closer.
Peter felt he should turn away. The scene was pulling something deep inside him he swore he buried. Longing, wistfulness, sadness, grief.
Rage.
(Peter felt a hand on his back. Massaging it, causing him to breathe in soft night air. Like a calming balm on a scorched spine. Cooling his joints and making him loosen)
Then all of a sudden they realised just at the right time what was happening and they blush tomato red and went all shy and bashful and anime awkward.
"Ohh boy! Hah, we almost lost our professionalism there huh?" Clark rubbed the back of his head vigorously and looked straight ahead in the corner as if discovering a rare species of moth he could find in a vape pen tower.
"Yeah! Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh yeah…" Lois stuttered and tried to keep her chest from bursting out as she calmed down and took a deep breath, entering her serene happy place: her fingers mindfully tracing a loose line of stitching on the shoulder of Clark's jacket.
Peter will remember this for blackmail.
(He felt a swat on his arm and heard chuckles)
Then, Lois broke the silence, her voice dropping into a lower, more vulnerable register. "Clark... I'm really worried about him. About Peter."
Peter stiffened.
"He's my hoobae," Lois continued, her tone laced with a deep protectiveness. "But every time I ask about his upbringing here in Metropolis, he just... deflects. He cracks a joke, makes a pop-culture reference, and slips away. I didn't want to pry at first. I see so much of myself in him. I know what it's like to feel like you're trapped in someone else's shadow, or like you never really got to have a proper childhood."
Lois sighed and had this bizarre look of not understanding how as a little girl couldn't believe she skydived. (The General thought he had a heart attack when he learned she had 'self volunteered' herself on a military plane and took a parachute. The pilots and soldiers were very stinky afterwards in recollection of being held tightly in her fathers arms as she couldn't see his face)
I actually... I actually talked to my dad about it." Like it was the greatest breakthrough "That's the real reason I finally answered General Lane's call the other day. I wanted to see if military records had anything on Peter's family, or if he was just entirely alone."
"I'm worried too," Clark admitted softly. Peter heard the rustle of Clark's heavy form as he shifted weight, his large frame inherently hunched to hide his stature. "Lois, the stories I hear about him around the city... he goes out of his way to help everyone. Repairs, legal advice, heavy lifting."
He had a smile on his face then it turned sad
"But he refuses to accept a single cent, or even a thank you. Me and the other tenants in our building literally have to aggressively persuade him" Lois gave him a raised eyebrow and a hint of a smirk as she could see through his double talk and found it hilarious which he responded with pivoting back to earnestness to cover his shame.
"like, polite, intense guilt-tripping—just to get him to accept a home-cooked meal as payment." He gesticulated. Then his arms settled down and he had his head in his arms.
"He's seventeen, Lois. But he's trying so hard to skip straight ahead to being an adult." He put his head up and looked serious. "He has a wall around him. A really polite, charming wall. But it's still a wall."
"There's so much pain in him," Clark said, his voice heavy with empathy. "When I listened to him back there in the ballroom... when he..."
"Tore Ivo a new one?" Lois offered cheekily, trying to lighten the heavy mood.
"I was going to say 'aggressively negotiated a corporate compliance audit,'" Clark corrected with a small laugh, though it quickly faded. "But the point is... I just want him to open up. I want him to trust us. Believe it or not, he's getting so much better, and fast."
…What..?
Honestly, sometimes I think the universe itself brought him to us because it wants to help him heal."
Why..Why are they caring for Peter Parker?
"Speaking of people carrying the weight of the world," Lois said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What do you think about Superman? And... Spider-Man?"
Peter's ears pricked up. Above him, Clark went absolutely still. It felt quiet, like a pall before the soundless vapidness of space.
It was an unsaid, fiercely guarded mutual understanding between roommates who actively chose not to think too hard about the details to keep their sanity intact.
(Which was fine…wasn't it..?)
"I think Superman is telling the truth when he says he doesn't know where he comes from," Lois murmured, her investigative instinct mixing with a genuine, heavy worry. "But Spider-Man... Clark, did you really listen to that exclusive interview tape I made? The way Spider-Man talked about why he does this?"
"He said,"
She took a long agonising breath.
'When you can do the things that I can do, but you don't... and then the bad things happen... they happen because of you.'" Lois quoted it softly, her tone laced with raw, human concern.
An observant listener could hear what she was truly picking up on. "He didn't just mean it as a responsibility, Clark. The way he said it…" Peter could hear the choking sob that almost broke out "the absolute, crushing finality in his voice... it didn't sound like a hero's mantra. It sounded like a confession. It sounded like a suicide pact with his own conscience." She threw her arm out angrily as though to hit some invisible tragedy. "Like he expects to keep running until he completely breaks apart, because he thinks he deserves the punishment."
No, Peter thought frantically, a cold sweat breaking out across his neck. No, it's just the rule. It's just math. If you don't help, people die. I don't need a home. I'm just a ghost here. I don't deserve—
Suddenly, a profound wave of grief washed over him, completely external to his own thoughts.
Almost a wail.
"Don't Say That"
Peter felt as though his whole world was frozen. Hearing a chanting, a mournful chorus of dead stars and lost children.
What..Who was that..
He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, yet he was alive, he was locked into something else. His eyes glowing blue as though the universe itself stopped for him.
"Kashkhu-ya, dza-el..."
(Listen ... .of…spirit) His brain couldn't translate the full message. It was though his mind was not ready for such a thing..or rather..
Phantom syllables ran through his veins. Warm, commanding, pleading, why was it so terrifying. Why..why was it so beautiful.
"Chi tahr-ra... chi zho-el, do-ah…"
(You are ... .not…ghost. You are…light, please..)
"Mia filo, mia bela filo"
Filo…that means…
Peter Parker pulled himself against the wall. His knees gave out and felt as if the whole world was trying to reach out and open his chest.
He had to..He had to..What was he supposed to do!?
"What..." Peter choked out, a single, stray tear escaping his eye before he could wipe it away. "What is that? Who..."
Before he could pull at the thread of the memory, Clark's voice from above cut through the haze, carrying a quiet, resonant promise: "I'm sure Superman will have the opportunity to talk to Spider-Man very, very soon, Lois. And I'm going to make sure he doesn't have to carry it alone anymore."
Oh you don't have to worry Clark I'm fi-
Peter's brain stopped working for one second. As his mind caught up to what he just heard.
"...You?" Lois said quietly.
…..What the FU-
A noise happened…
Rather a steel door opening with a loud clang and woman crying.
Spider Sense tingled and purple light was in the darkness of a hallway. Where Clark and Lois went around the corner to hear a female scientist holding her face in her hands coming out of a secret room. Of course there is a secret room. Peter put his mask away. Not yet..
He followed the two of them in the darkness. Towards a purple light and an opened metal door. Which was a heavy security door that hadn't been properly latched, so the two found themselves in a hidden, high-tech server room adjacent to the main lab with Peter ghosting in right behind them, shutting the door with a microscopic, silent click.
He looked around the room and mentally sighed. A secret room. Of course there's a secret room. If I had a nickel for every time a tech billionaire built a hidden mad-scientist lab behind his legal assets, I'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but…oh wait Mr Stark would hate that his work be called mad actually he'd just be called tech billionaire..Sorry Mr Stark.
His eyes rapidly catalogued the hardware laid out on the tables. It was a highly illegal, modular weapon chassis utilizing the exact same glowing purple energy signatures that Livewire and Intergang had been terrorising Metropolis with. Peter's internal engineer instantly went to work, breaking down the schematics.
Doing two things at once is easy for an advanced brain like his, he moved silently behind the two as Clark 'accidently' squeezed the control panel so that they could enter inside. With Clark turning his head to exclaim it must've glitched, Peter held up his hand for silence, Lois noticed and almost jolted out her skin.
They were about to question before Peter went forward with a come on gesture. They followed begrudgingly and came inside a room that was part antique shop and part sci-fi dangerous.
Okay, let's see, Peter thought, his eyes darting across the glowing components with the practiced speed of someone who used to build web-shooters out of dumpster-dived high school chemistry scraps. Standard Earth alloy for the housing. Basic terrestrial circuitry for the interface. But the core power routing? The frequency of that purple plasma luminescence? Absolutely not.
For Peter had studied, his experience in learning shadow conspiracies, history of technology and how to spot patterns came from the true futurist himself on average lectures.
Mr. Stark in one of his expositions how to spot glaring inconsistencies with societal tech-tree.
(His eyes at the time were staring with glaring mistrust on a globe where the continent of Africa was)
True technological innovation on this version of Earth didn't follow a natural timeline. Everything major—the sudden leaps in high-density energy storage, the weaponised plasma arrays, the components currently being used by Livewire and Intergang—all traced back to a singular, definitive historical bottleneck exactly twenty-two years ago.
Just like his Earth when the Manhattan Crisis happened. Only this time was much longer. More quieter until now.
It's alien tech, Peter concluded grimly, his mind flashing back to Chitauri wreckage, scavenged Vulture gear, and the dangerous, volatile mess that happened when human beings tried to reverse-engineer things they didn't understand. Twenty-two years ago, a bunch of highly advanced, extraterrestrial junk rained down on Metropolis, and guys like Ivo have been strip-mining it for patents ever since. He's taking highly unstable, weapon-grade alien power shunts, dressing them up in sleek modern plastic, and selling them to the military board as 'the future of green energy.'
Then a door on the other side opened, they hid and saw Ivo and Alex coming in and Ivo looking hissy and deranged while his assistant had a deadpan compliant nature. Peters narrowed a bit at the assistant before looking at Ivo.
Ivo was frantic, sweating as the mechanical arms secure the heavy chest plate
"Alex, if you make me late, so help me, I will ruin your life."
Wow. Okay. In the classic supervillain monologue, Peter mentally crossed his arms.
The Assistant known as Alex typed furiously "But it's still a prototype, sir. And short-term wear caused out-of-control aggression in the test groups—"
'Short-term wear caused out-of-control aggression in the test groups.' Genuinely, why do they always say that out loud? It's like a legally binding requirement for mad scientists.
Ivo groaned after gargling water yet again "Aah! Oh, my God, at what point did this seem like a conversation, Alex?!"
Alex sighed, not looking up from the terminal
"When you started talking to me."
'Hey, our super-suit makes people want to punch puppies, let's put it on!'
Ivo grunted angrily as the helmet was coming into place, his voice echoing with metallic distortion "The board's against me! "That…" He threw a bottle that landed in the landfill that made a red beep sound to mark his failure "That fraudulent baby reporter humiliated me in front of the entire city! He cited public SEC filings, Alex! Who does that at a gala?!" He grinned nastily as the helmet clasped on his head
Wow, calling me a 'baby reporter.' I literally just audited your entire life, Anthony. That hurts. I have a very robust understanding of civil law.
"But with this... I'll shut everybody up."
Yeah, because nothing says 'I'm a stable corporate leader who deserves investor funding' quite like putting on a giant purple death-robot suit to murder your interns,
Peter thought, his eyes narrowing as his spider-sense began to thrum with real, immediate danger. Classic.
Beside him, Clark shifted his weight, his large shoulders tensing as the heavy robotic armor on the other side of the glass powered up with a terrifying, unshielded whine. Peter caught Clark's eye in the glass reflection, giving him a microscopic, deadpan nod. Yeah, buddy. Your tech-bro nemesis is officially wearing an unstable alien weapon. Time to go.
Peter's hand darted into his pocket. He pulled out a tiny, crude piece of circuitry he'd cobbled together from old radio parts in his and Clark's apartment—a makeshift EMP disruptor and tracker. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he slapped it directly onto the primary mainframe hosting the illegal Intergang tech blueprints. It clicked into place, subtly blinking green. Nobody is stealing this data tonight.
"Clark, we need to—" Lois turned, but the space beside her was already empty. "Clark?!"
"He must have run out to find security or help the staff evacuate!" Peter lied seamlessly, flying entirely by the seat of his pants.
"Lois, listen to me," Peter said, his voice dropping the bumbling intern act entirely as he grabbed her shoulder to anchor her. "You need to get to the upper mezzanine right now and start evacuating the gala guests before Ivo brings the whole ceiling down. If that unshielded loop blows because that jackass is going to do it, this entire floor is a dead zone."
"I am not leaving you behind, Peter!" Lois argued,
It was incredible how much trust she had in him not to smell the obvious bullshit he was spewing.
Was it though?
Her Korean American brown eyes shone something fierce. "And where is Clark?! I'm not leaving either of my guys!" She was talking loudly.
"Clark is fine! He's probably already ahead of you, helping people to the stairs!" Peter squeezed her shoulders tightly.
"Look, I'll be right behind you! I'm going to double-back and make sure the emergency exits on the lower deck aren't electronically locked! Go, Lois! Get the story, but get the people out!"
It wasn't the most ironclad excuse, and a seasoned investigative (Up and coming Journalist)Intern like Lois would absolutely pick apart the timeline later, but under the sheer adrenaline of the moment, she nodded. "Don't you dare make me write your obituary, Hoobae!" she shouted the last part cuttingly with worry and firm anger, turning and sprinting toward the upper mezzanine stairwell.
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Peter ripped off his tailored suit jacket and tie, throwing them into a corner. He pulled the red-and-blue fabric mask out of his belt, slipping it over his face. The white eye-lenses whirred and narrowed as they calibrated to the dim room.
"Showtime" His mask moved with his mouth.
_
Inside the main exhibition hall, the glass walls groaned as Dr. Ivo stepped onto the stage in the massive, whirring gaudy ass Power Ranger villain armour. The gala guests gasped, backing away as his voice boomed through the external speakers.
"Now! Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for you to see the future," Ivo announced, his metallic gait shaking the floorboards. "I present Parasite 1.0. We live in dangerous times. Metropolis was the safest city in America. Now we're in the midst of a crime wave like nothing before. And then there's Superman and Spider-Man, these guys who claim they just want to help. But can we really trust strangers to help us for free?" Ostentatious video screens of the two super-heroes
"Of course we can't! The only person you can trust is yourself. And now, with the Parasite, you can become your own Superman. Your own Spider-Man." Videos of the armor and sketches.
"But don't take my word for it. Let's get volunteers." He looked with his hand to head like a salute or a sailor looking for land until… "How about... you?"
Ivo lunged, grabbing a whimpering Curtis by the collar. Suddenly, the entire sky outside lit up. One of AmazoTech's automated security helicopters suffered a massive system failure as the tower's unshielded power grid flickered, spiralling out of control and crashing directly into the reinforced glass structure.
Panicked guests screamed and scattered in the blinding smoke and falling debris.
Lois reached the upper mezzanine, breathing heavily. Looking around the packed, terrified crowd, her first idiot was nowhere in sight and the second idiot was…she was panicking. She looked down over the railing, her hands gripping the metal tightly.
"Clark? Peter? Where are you?" she muttered.
The heavy security doors behind her suddenly slammed shut and locked with a digital hiss.
We're trapped!
Panicked guests screamed and scattered in the blinding smoke and falling debris. Down on the main floor, Ivo grew impatient with the falling debris. "This is taking too long. Let's speed things up." He raised his massive metallic arm, preparing to pitch Curtis straight out of the shattered window into the sky.
Curtis screamed.
THWIP!
A thick, high-tensile web line slapped onto Curtis's chest just as Ivo let go. With a violent tug, Spider-Man yanked the terrified engineer out of the air, catching him in a classic fireman's carry and swinging him safely behind a structural pillar.
"Whoa! What?" Ivo snarled, the suit's automated sensors spinning to track the new target. The HUD flashing inside his helmet instantly brought up a red tracking bracket. "The red-and-blue interloper. Spider-Man. Of course you'd show up to defend a third-rate engineering failure!"
"Yeah, hi! Sorry I'm late, the traffic on the legal compliance highway was a nightmare," Spider-Man called out, dropping into a low, predatory crouch on top of an overturned display table. His white eye-lenses whirred and narrowed as he analyzed the glowing purple lines on the Parasite armor.
Before Ivo could reply, a sonic boom rattled the room. Superman descended through the shattered ceiling, landing gracefully between Spider-Man and the rogue CEO.
"Dr. Ivo! I don't know what's going on here, but you need to let these people go." Superman was all firm in tone.
"And lose my audience right when the main attractions arrive?" Ivo chuffed. "Buddy, I don't think you understand sales," Ivo mocked, his suit whirring. "Alex! Now!"
Spiderman is standing right behind the glass partition as his eyes caught the control room and
Why does that guy look like Gendo Ikari at this moment with the glasses not showing eyes and glowing in the dark schtick!?
Hyper-perceptive honed engineering eyes broke down the activation sequence brick by brick.
To the kid from Queens: it looked like a localized, controlled disaster. The moment the button is pressed, the unshielded alien core at the center of the mechanical cradle releases a violent, blinding spike of violet plasma.
The lights in the entire skyscraper don't just flicker—they visibly dim by half as the tower force-feeds residential-commercial electricity directly into the suit's containment matrix to bridge the gap. Spiderman watches the high-voltage energy loops he audited earlier violently redline. The insulation on the primary cables hums so aggressively that it creates a static charge in the air, making his skin prickle.
He can see the immediate toll the short-term wear takes on the machinery; the dampeners are already buckling under the volatile energy draw. It's an over-engineered, highly unstable kinetic sponge.
"That's right, folks," Ivo boomed to the remaining crowd, gesturing wildly to the ceiling. "Our pal Superman and his bug-themed associate are gonna help with our demonstration. You see, the Parasite 1.0 gives me strength, speed, and durability equal to theirs!"
Superman lunged forward, throwing a heavy punch straight into Ivo's chest plate.
"Superman! Wait! Don't hit him!" Spider-Man yelled, his spider-sense screaming a split second too late.
The moment Superman's fist connected, a blinding purple shockwave rippled through the room. The Parasite armor glowed fiercely, absorbing the entire kinetic impact and feeding it directly into the unshielded alien core. Ivo's facemask came on.
"And if he tries to fight back, the suit absorbs that kinetic energy and redirects it," Ivo roared with laughter. "So the bigger they are, the harder you hit back!"
Ivo slammed a massive, powered fist into Superman's jaw, sending the Man of Steel crashing through a concrete pillar. Superman groaned, visibly weakened as the suit began to actively siphoning his bio-electric energy.
"And while the Parasite runs off the energy it absorbs," Ivo continued his manic sales pitch, completely oblivious to his own mental decay, he let his facemask opened itself to reveal his face which had glowing purple jagged lines and eyes glowing malevolently indigo as his suit. "for longer, sustained battery life, my portable Amazo panic room has your back. Available now." Like a prick he was waving his hand this way and back.
Up on the mezzanine, Lois's eyes widened through the smoke, Peter's parting words echoing perfectly in her mind. The whole show is being routed through his portable panic room command center.
"He was right," She said with solemn promise. "I have to get into that panic room"
Down below, Superman groaned weakly, trying to push himself up, but every movement only seemed to feed the glowing violet grids on Ivo's armor.
"You know, I built this company myself," Ivo growled, his voice twisting into something monstrous and feral as the short-term wear of the prototype triggered out-of-control aggression. Face mask up again. He stepped heavily toward the fallen hero. "And I deserve more!"
"Hey! Sparky!" Spider-Man yelled, leaping into the air. He fired a rapid-fire volley of web shunts directly at the suit's exhaust ports, trying to choke the internal cooling systems. "You want more?! How about a class-A federal violation for public endangerment?!"
Ivo roared, turning his full, terrifying attention away from Superman to swing wildly at the web-slinger. "More!" Ivo screamed, his mind entirely consumed by the parasite's hunger, completely blind to the fact that his expensive skyscraper was beginning to tear itself apart from the inside out.
"More? Okay, you want more? I will gladly give you more!" Spider-Man shouted.
Spider-Man vaulted directly onto Ivo's massive, bulky forearm. With lightning-fast precision, he fired a high-tensile web-line from Ivo's own metal wrist, wrapped it around the back of the suit's heavy shoulder assembly, and anchored it straight to the front of the helmet.
"Stop hitting yourself! Seriously, stop hitting yourself!" Spider-Man quipped, yanked the line hard.
The high-tensile web-line forcefully jerked Ivo's massive, powered right fist backward, causing the billionaire to smash his own robotic hand directly into his own chest plate and visor.
Because the Parasite armor was designed as a total kinetic sponge, this created a catastrophic engineering failure inside the suit. Because jackasses who pawn their workload to the truly capable forget to read the details.
Mainly that The kinetic absorption matrix didn't know how to differentiate external attacks from internal force.
Meaning the schoolyard bully maneuver was kicking his ASS!
The explosive self-inflicted shockwave rattled Ivo's brain inside the helmet, instantly short-circuiting his targeting systems and leaving him stumbling around completely dizzy, dazed, and physically concussed by his own strength.
Spider-Man had jumped back onto a nearby presentation platform. He did a shuffling of shoulders as though he got a good workout.
"Okay, first of all? 'I built this company?" Spider-Man said in a mocking tech bro whiny voice imitation. "Horrible catchphrase. It's totally derivative," Spider-Man called out, his white eye-lenses whirring and narrowing. "Second of all? You're not actually fighting, man. You're literally just letting your steering wheel do the turning for you. You're a massive, over-budget goober in a motorized tank, Anthony! If we took away the stolen alien batteries, you wouldn't even know how to throw a proper left hook without throwing your lower back out!"
Parasite got his bearings and growled. "I am the future of tech defense, you little pest!"
"Yeah? Well, your future has a massive recall notice on its suspension system!" He flipped over from the uncoordinated backhand slam "See, Infinite Data Loop. No coordination, no strategy, just a goober in a little dress trying to play with the big kids!"
"I WILL DESTROY YOU!"
"Back. Off!" Superman had risen from the ground, recovered and looked serious. Ivo turned towards him, grinned and lunged.
"DOGE HIM!"
This time Superman listened and super-speed to Spiderman's side, eyes straight ahead and listening intently.
"I'm all ears."
Spiderman's tone shifted instantly from goofy teenager to something terrifyingly experienced, sharp, and commanding as he leaned into Superman's side: "Don't punch him. Do not hit him."
Superman nodded
"He's a kinetic sponge," Spider-Man shouted across the room, vaulting off Ivo's head just as the billionaire tried to swat him. "Every time you throw a punch, you're just charging his battery! He's feeding on your bio-electric energy! Keep your distance! Let him swing, let him miss, and let that prototype alien core exhaust itself!"
Superman immediately understood. The Man of Steel pushed himself up, changing his entire posture. Instead of rushing forward, he took a step back, floating an inch off the ground, eyes laser-focused, adopting a defensive, evasive stance.
Ivo roared, turning on Spider-Man. "I'll crush you first!"
"Oh, please, you couldn't crush a juice box right now, All for One!"
Who is All for One!?
Clark thought that as Ivo bitched and swatted at them, very heavily. Very slowly now. It was almost as if..
"The power is going down!"
Inside the panic room Alex was sweating and confused and pushing all kinds of buttons in panic, frantically typing on the master terminal, trying to override the strange, creeping glitch in the system that seemed to come out of nowhere. "Sir, the kinetic dampeners are stalling! There's an unauthorized data feedback loop in the main grid!"
WHAM! The door was open! Lois Lane has arrived!
Down on the showroom floor, the glowing purple lines across the Parasite 1.0 armor instantly began to sputter, violently blinking out one by one as its primary lifeline was cut. Ivo gasped through the suit's speakers as the immense, artificial weight of the unvetted machinery suddenly collapsed under its own massive bulk.
"No, I am not letting you interrupt Doctor—" Alex snarled, trying to pull out a taser like thing before-
Lois closed the distance in a flash. Channeling every ounce of her frustration, her stress, and her absolute protectiveness over her missing boys, she wound back and threw a textbook, devastating right hook straight into Alex's jaw.
CRACK!
"Sorry. Your life seems hard,"
Alex went down hard, dropping like a stone onto the metal floor, completely unconscious. Lois didn't waste a single second looking at him. She lunged over the console, her eyes scanning the glowing purple monitors. Thanks to her Hoobaes highly detailed technical breakdown from just minutes ago, she didn't have to guess which button to press.
She spotted the master heavy-density ordnance power shunt—the unauthorized, un-vetted loop routing the building's central energy sector straight into Ivo's armor.
"Unshielded high-voltage loop," Lois muttered, recalling Peter's voice. "Cut the master terminal."
She grabbed a heavy metal security fire extinguisher from the wall, raised it high over her head, and brought it slamming down with absolute, crushing force directly into the primary glass console plate.
SPARK! SMASH!
The main console exploded in a brilliant cascade of white-hot sparks and dying purple plasma. The master breakers violently flipped, instantly severing the auxiliary city grid connection and completely shutting down the tower's unshielded power supply.
Down on the floor, the heavy security gates keeping the remaining gala guests cornered began to groan.
The massive security cage powered down with a heavy mechanical hiss, allowing the terrified elite of Metropolis to pour out into the safety of the emergency stairwells.
"Aah! Cheater!" Ivo roared, the Parasite armor violently expanding as he used the last of his stolen internal battery reserves to launch his massive frame across the room. He swung a devastating, earth-shattering blow straight at Superman.
CRACK!
Both heroes caught the blow together—Superman bracing against the raw kinetic force with his palms, while Spider-Man wrapped a thick layer of high-tensile web-fluid around Ivo's mechanical wrists to anchor him to the floor. Both of them were grunting and straining against the massive, unhinged weight of the machine.
"You cheated!" Ivo bellowed in a manic, metallic rage. His face mask falling down to reveal the very emaciated face underneath rasping for breath "You're afraid... that I'm better than you!"
"This isn't a game, Doctor," Superman said, his voice carrying a resonant, calm authority that cut right through the alarms. "You need to stop."
"We don't have to be better than you," Spider-Man added, his wit completely taking over as he danced around the side of the suit, slapping his makeshift EMP disruptor directly onto the primary battery housing on Ivo's spine. "We just have to stop supplying you with power!"
Then the Spider-Sense went off, it wasn't a warning of danger but shifted. It went from a sharp warning of an incoming punch to a cold, horrific alarm of an impending systemic biological collapse.
Through his whirring eye-lenses, Peter saw the glowing purple lines on the armor weren't just unstable—they were bleeding into the sub-dermal mesh. The unshielded alien core was desperately pulling residual current from anywhere it could, and since Lois had cut the city grid, the suit was starting to harvest the raw bio-electrical output of Ivo's own nervous system.
Ivo bellowed in rage, his muscles violently convulsing inside the metal plates as he forced the suit to raise its arms again. "I can... I can still kill you both! I just need... more!"
The quips completely died in Peter's throat. His Stark-honed engineering knowledge and his background in ethics slammed into him at once. He saw the exact design fault: the suit had no biological failsafe. It would eat its host alive to keep the pilot lights on.
"Ivo, stop! Disengage the armor right now!" Spider-Man shouted, his voice dropping the sarcasm entirely, suddenly sounding desperately young and terrified for the man trying to kill him. He stepped forward, hands raised in a peaceful gesture, completely abandoning his defensive stance. "Look at your diagnostics! Your telemetry is completely redlined! The absorption matrix is feeding backwards into your central nervous system!"
"Shut up! You're working for the board! You're trying to steal my patents!" Ivo shrieked, his vision clearly blurring through his cracked visor as the armor groaned, the plates crushing inward under the sheer pressure of the vacuum.
"I don't care about your patents, Ivo!" Spider-Man pleaded, rushing a few steps closer despite the crackling purple arcing energy. Beside him, Superman watched in stunned silence, picking up on the absolute, raw desperation in the teenager's voice. "Your brain cannot handle that throughput! If you pull another watt from that core, you are going to permanently fry your synapses! It's over! You proved your point, the suit works, but you have to drop the emergency release before it's too late! Please!"
"Never!" Ivo roared, a blind, desperate madness consuming what was left of his intellect. He forced the suit's power cells to overdrive one last time.
"Anthony, don't do it!" Peter screamed.
But the warning came too late. Ivo triggered the final cell draw.
BZZZZT!
The EMP device Spider-Man had planted earlier, combined with the catastrophic overload, violently discharged. The remaining purple plasma in the suit's chassis violently crackled, backfiring directly into the absorption coils. The massive, over-engineered metal plates locked up completely, crushing inward and pinning Ivo inside his own gaudy creation.
The billionaire let out a final, agonizing scream before the suit lost all power, leaving him slumped, heavily panting, and utterly defeated inside the smoking, metallic wreckage.
The billionaire let out a final, agonizing scream before the suit lost all power, leaving him slumped, heavily panting, and utterly defeated inside the smoking, metallic wreckage.
_
The whole room was invaded and occupied by the soft appealing noises of Paramedics, Policemen, Firemen and First-Responders.
Superman immediately knelt beside the mechanical cradle, using his bare hands to carefully peel back the crushed reinforced plating. "Please," he called out to the arriving first responders at the scene. "This man needs your help."
Ivo looked up through his shattered visor, his eyes bloodshot, his tech-bro ego completely reduced to ashes. He stared at Superman, and then at the red-and-blue web-slinger standing beside him.
"You ruined me," Ivo whispered, his breathing labored and shallow. "What's your angle? What's in this for you? Money? Power? A hostile takeover?" Hearing him talk you can hear the pain and weakened voice box.
"Dr. Ivo, look around you," Superman said softly, offering a hand to help the medical team access the suit. "Is it really that hard to believe that some people just want to help?"
The people in stretchers being loaded downstairs. And the people who delivered them unto sanctuary.
Ivo rolled his good eye and fell fast asleep from morphine.
Spider-Man stood just a step behind Superman, looking out at Ivo as he was wheeled away.
All he felt was a profound, heavy pity.
Peter Parker's internal scientific eye instantly mapped out the horrific physical toll wracking Ivo's body:
Severe Neurological Fried-Out: The rapid-fire feedback loops from the unshielded alien core had blasted straight through Ivo's blood-brain barrier. His synapses were firing blindly, causing a permanent, erratic, violent twitching in his fingers and limbs.
Cellular Kinetic Overload: The suit's absorption matrix had violently siphoned and redirected energy, but the biological backlash had left Ivo's muscle tissues completely exhausted, torn, and severely depleted of basic ATP at a cellular level.
Adrenaline Crash and Brain Melt: The intense, localized radiation combined with the prototype's aggressive mental degradation had caused a massive, catastrophic chemical burnout in his brain. His skin was a sickly, translucent grey, slick with a cold sweat, and his eyes rolled back with an unfocused, blank stare.
He literally cooked his own nervous system from the inside out, Peter thought grimly. He traded his entire cognitive stability for a temporary power high. I tried to tell him. I tried to make him stop.
Ivo had built a monument to his own ego, and when that ego was challenged by a few simple municipal codes and SEC filings, his mind had completely snapped under the pressure. He had chosen to destroy his own body rather than admit defeat.
You had everything, Anthony, Peter thought, a wave of genuine sorrow washing over him.
(The phantom, maternal warmth thrummed softly in his chest)
..Feeling things more than what he was used to..
(It didn't feel bad. Not one bit)
But you were so afraid of being small that you destroyed your own mind just to stand tall for five minutes.
turned to vanish into the smoke, his feet already tensing to leap toward the shattered ceiling struts. He needed to get his civilian clothes, sneak back down to the lower decks, and find Lois before she started calculating the exact time delta of his disappearance.
He didn't make it two inches off the ground.
A massive, incredibly gentle, yet entirely unyielding hand clamped down squarely on Spider-Man's shoulder. The sheer physical density behind that grip was absolute. Peter didn't even bother trying to wrench himself away; his spider-sense didn't spark an alarm, but his brain instantly did the math.
He was pinned by a guy who accidentally caught falling helicopters.
"Whoa, okay!" Spider-Man chirped, his voice instantly spiking into a defensive, high-pitched MCU-grade ramble as he slowly raised his hands. He didn't turn around to look at the Man of Steel just yet. "Is this an intervention? Because if this is about the cable management commentary I made during the fight, I stand by it. Anthony's wiring schematics were an absolute civic tragedy. If it's about the 'goober' comment, I apologize to goobers everywhere, they didn't deserve that association."
Superman didn't laugh. He didn't move his hand either. The silence behind Peter's back was thick, heavy, and radiating a massive, terrifyingly pure aura of pure, unadulterated Midwestern earnestness.
"Spider-Man," Superman said softly. "We need to talk."
Peter slowly turned his head, his white eye-lenses widening and whirring as they calibrated to the giant, caped silhouette standing over him. Oh, great, Peter thought, a cold sweat breaking out under his mask. I can't outrun him. I literally cannot outrun a super-concerned, blue-eyed alien god. He's like... he's like Cap's-
(BZZZTT!)
(What..Why did he feel a streak of severe disapproval from an adult figure who reckoned he made an innocent mistake and would like to give him reality check in an understanding and compassionate way)
Okay pivot to..
Uncle Ben moral compass,
(That's better)
Thor's physical build, and Tony's absolute refusal to mind his own business all rolled up into one terrifyingly polite package.
"Talk? Yeah, totally, I love talking, talking is my favorite thing, ask anyone—actually don't ask anyone, I don't have references here," Peter deflected frantically, his hands waving in short, nervous arcs. "But hey, the paramedics are waiting, the building is structurally compromised, and honestly, my union-mandated break was twenty minutes ago—"
"I heard what you said the other day," Superman interrupted gently, his voice cutting clean through the defensive word-vomit. He stepped closer, his blue eyes locked onto the white lenses of the mask with a depth of worry that made Peter's throat instantly go dry. "In that interview. About why you do this. About how you 'think the bad things happen because of you.'"
Peter went entirely still, the joke dying on his tongue.
"You're carrying a weight that doesn't belong to you," Superman said, his tone dripping with the kind of intense, raw sincerity that defined Clark Kent. It wasn't a lecture. It was a plea. "You're running yourself into the ground, and you're treating your own life like it's a disposable shield." His eyes glistened with wetness, pleading "You can't keep doing this alone."
Peter's chest tightened, a familiar, suffocating wall of trauma instantly slamming down around his thoughts. It's just math, his brain screamed defensively. If you don't help, people die. I have to carry it. I'm a ghost.
"Aŭskultu vian fraton"
(Listen to your..)
Before Peter could scramble for another deflection, the heavy metal doors at the far end of the mezzanine burst open. Lois Lane ran out into the smoking pavilion, her camera slung over her shoulder, her face pale and streaked with soot as her eyes frantically scanned the wreckage.
"Superman! Spider-Man!" Lois called out, rushing toward them. She stopped a few paces back, her breath hitching as she looked at them, then looked desperately toward the empty corridors. "Have you... have you seen my friends? Clark Kent and Peter Parker? They were on this level, they were right behind me, and I can't find them—"
Superman didn't flinch. He kept his massive, heavy hand firmly planted on Spider-Man's shoulder, anchoring the teenager to the spot, but he turned his head to offer Lois a warm, incredibly steady smile.
"They're okay, Lois," Superman promised, his voice carrying clearly across the ruined hall, instantly settling her frantic pulse. "Clark and Peter are completely safe. They've already made it down to the lower evacuation sector."
Lois let out a massive, trembling sigh of relief, her shoulders visibly dropping. "Thank God..."
"In fact," Superman continued, his grip tightening just a fraction on Peter's shoulder—not to hurt, but to deliver a profound, unspoken message directly to his roommate. He looked down at the red-and-blue hero, his eyes shining with a deep, protective promise. "Spider-Man was actually just about to head down there to find Peter himself. He's going to make sure to let him know that he has people waiting for him. People who care about him. Who wants him safe... and wants him home."
Lois looked between the two heroes, her investigative eyes softening into something deeply emotional as she caught the weight of Superman's words. "Tell him... tell him his seonbae is waiting for him downstairs." Her eyes narrowed and Spider-Man felt terrified "And he's not allowed to skip out on dinner." She said the last words of grave promise.
Spider-Man…didn't know why his shoulders weren't tense anymore.
Why was it so…
Peaceful…
(He felt a hand caress his cheek.)
He choked back something in his throat.
The nervous energy evaporated.
The Web-Slingers shoulders slumped, the heavy armor of his grief finally cracking open. He let out a long, shaky breath, his white eye-lenses widening into a soft, vulnerable expression.
"Okay," Peter said softly.
_
The paper cups of lukewarm convenience-store coffee did very little to cut the freezing chill of the Metropolis night. The three of them sat on the concrete steps just outside the police perimeter of the ruined AmazoTech tower, the distant red and blue strobe lights painting their faces in rhythmic flashes.
Almost maudlin familiarity to a certain web-slinger.
Before they had even made it to the street, the three of them had sneaked back into the hidden lab to secure the evidence—only to find the tables completely barren. Every single piece of the weaponized, glowing purple hardware had been entirely liquidated.
But while Clark was reeling from the theft, Peter sat silently sipping his coffee, his mind unusually calm. He had side-eyed the tracker underneath his coat, the 3D data screen acting as a sonar map of the entire state area. The cloud of what he configured as sparkling blue was situated very close.
Right here in Metropolis.
He had fried the data so they couldn't use it, and he had planted a beacon right on them.
And he would come for them.
(A gentle hand on his shoulder tightened in warning and apprehension but full of compassionate concern)
A soft approving melody of harmony in his chest..
"Heck of a night huh?" Peter said, hoping to break the ice.
Which Lois decided to FINISH HIM! As said by the great Shao Khan by obliterating ice by forcefully wrapping both of her arms around the 17 year old's neck, pulling him into an extremely tight, breathless hug that nearly compressed his enhanced ribs.
"Gah—Lois—oxygen deprivation, a classic tort liability!" Peter wheezed, his natural charming defensive humor immediately kicking into overdrive as he tried to break the heavy emotional tension. He patted her back awkwardly with his free hand. "I promise my lungs are fully compliant with city zoning laws, you don't need to stress-test them!" He chuffed out.
Lois pulled back, her eyes fiercely bright as she smacked his shoulder. "Shut up, Parker. You're alive. Clark's alive. That's the only headline I care about right now."
Before they could sink back into the quiet gravity of the stairwell conversation, the sharp click of designer heels echoed on the pavement. Cat Grant stepped into the light of the streetlamp, looking remarkably pristine despite the smoke, a predatory but thoroughly satisfied smile on her face.
"Well, well, well," Cat purred, adjusting her coat as she looked down at her three interns. "I must say, congratulations to the three of you. Tonight was an absolute, glorious goldmine. Between the public SEC audit and a literal billionaire mech-suit meltdown, the Daily Planet is going to own the front page for a week. Enjoy your little coffee break. Tomorrow, you're all on my clock."
With a sharp turn, Cat vanished into the crowd of reporters, leaving the three of them alone once more. Clark stared down at his paper cup, his brow furrowed as his earnest, superhero nature completely took over, his posture shifting back into the deep, heavy worry he had carried on the mezzanine.
"The proof's all there," Clark muttered, his voice dropping to a sharp, intense whisper so only the three of them could hear. "The stolen tech, which Ivo could only have gotten from his criminal connections. Once we get the photos, we'll have our story." He shook his head, looking utterly baffled while Lois smiled and edged closer. "I just can't believe it all disappeared. Someone must have taken it during the fight. But who? Lois, Peter... I have to figure this out. Too many people are getting hurt." Then Lois reached up and kissed him on the cheek
Peter took a sip silently, watching intently like it was Prime Time Tv.
"It's cute seeing you obsess over a story," Lois murmured softly.
Clark blinked, his cheeks instantly turning a brilliant shade of crimson as he cleared his throat nervously, adjusting his glasses. He looked down at his oversized tweed coat, his fingers tracing the loose stitching Lois had ironed earlier.
"You know..." Clark stammered, his bumbling, small-town charm returning in an instant as he looked at her. "When I was getting ready tonight... I kept wondering if this counted as a date."
A sudden, chilly gust of wind swept down the avenue, causing Lois to shiver slightly in her backless strap. Clark Kent put his jacket over her. She looked up at him through her bangs, her eyes full of brilliant, unmatched confidence.
"And what did you decide?" Lois challenged softly, her voice dripping with romantic gravity. "Walk me back, Smallville."
Peter looked between the two of them, letting out a soft, shakespearean sigh as he dramatically slid down the concrete step to give them space. "And that is my cue to legally recuse myself from this immediate vicinity before I become a permanent third-wheel liability. See you guys at the apartment." He turned back with a look "Don't lock me out." He walked with his hands in pocket and immediately skirted around to avoid the blond teenage girl in the pink dress who had stars in her eyes at the gala.
"...I can see why you call him 'Playboy'" Clark Kent spoke in wonder.
Lois patted his arm "Was never wrong Kent"
_
In the quiet, dusty, subterranean chill of the Daily Planet archive room
The "journalism morgue" where the three of them had started their internships.
Surrounded by stacks of yellowed newsprint, microfilm reels, and her own frantic shorthand notes, the soft tapping of the keypad where the words appeared on the holographic 3D screen.
"An exclusive on the collapse of Amazo Tek is" She moved the cursor and pressed on her keyboard. "Sent" She closed her eyes and leaned back, still wearing Clarks jacket as the screen disappeared. She put it into her yellow backpack and moved to leave.
Then, her eyes snagged on the messy corkboard in the corner.
Nestled right beside the chaotic web of her current Metropolis research was a half-forgotten stack of old, dust-coated printouts. It was Flamebird research that was requested from Jimmy and she dismissed it at the time it arrived because it…was too soon after mulling over those words…
She walked over and pulled the top folder down, flipping through the crinkled pages. Lois blinked and looked closely at the paper headline.
"Oh, I forgot this." She picked up and opened one, scrolling through one alien magazine with a stick it note: Most Viable.
She chuckled slightly, and decided to take a look out of curiosity.
Loch Ness (why is nessie in America), Mystery of McDougal Lands(shouldn't that fall under mysticism?) and Smallville.
Smallville: Flying Boy of Kansas
She read. Looked through the other covers and brands, driven by an insane inquisitive urge. She ripped out the papers, got pins and stuck them to Murder Board.
Now
Daily Planet: Superman
4 Years Ago
Angel Saves Professor
To the right side corner
10 Years Ago
Miracles in the Heartland.
Her mind goes through things.
The First time she met Clark…
The way he catched her outside of that Gym.
The Dockbattle of A disguised flying man holding back a mech.
Superman holds the bus in the air, protecting them with his smile.
Her eyes widened and she turned her head slightly.
"No.."
Clark Kent on the bench, chatting. Superman on Daily Planet smiling. Both sun rays illuminated their silhouettes and visages. An overlay of the beautiful dichotomy of man.
"Maybe he's a nice guy who has powers and just wants to use them to help,"
"Clark Kent..is Superman.."
Her voice was shocked. Her face a heated frown until..something clicks into place. For she realised she still had the file in her hand.
She looked down as her fingers brushed against a completely separate manila envelope hidden beneath the cryptid files. Written across the front in her own bold sharpie was: PROJECT: NEIGHBOUR.
Lois softened. This marvelous collection of paper. This anagram of photography, reward citations, sketches, kids drawings, this wonderful tapestry of a Metropolis boy.
A three person group project of interviews, collections, eyewitness statements and standing ovations from a homeless man and his pigeons.
This beautifully curated journalistic record of Peter Parker's life.
She sat at the table again, opening the file where honorifics she'd scribbled on the side of his onboarding itinerary. My hoobae.
She began turning the pages, each one a monument.
Clogged sinks fixed, groceries carried, kids comforted.
Peter, laughing with a face split by an exhausting bruise, holding up one end of a broken fire escape while an elderly lady crawled to safety. Peter, soaking wet in his civilian clothes, flashing a peace sign with a group of local kids after diving into a flooded storm drain to rescue a stray dog.
Written transcripts from local shopkeepers and shelter coordinators detailing Peter's everyday heroism. "Peter Parker never asked for a cent," one read. "He just showed up when the block was freezing, fixed our radiator pipe with his bare hands, and left."
A crinkled piece of construction paper, drawn in messy crayon, showing a figure in faded gray shading with black words labeled 'Midtown' shirt holding hands with a little boy. Scribbled at the bottom in a kid's handwriting was: Thank you, Mr. Parker
A heartwarming interview log from a local eccentric the neighborhood called the "Pigeon Man." The old man had given Peter Parker a literal standing ovation on a rooftop(much to Peter's shocked embarrassment), surrounded by his swirling flock of birds, because of how her Hoobae treated him. The notes detailed how Peter Parker would regularly sit down on the dirty curb with the forgotten man, quietly sharing a plain sandwich and splitting whatever spare quarters he had left in his pockets just to keep him company.
Lois's heart swelled.
"Clark, if you or Peter had powers, you'd do that."
She turned the page.
Then…it felt like the beginning of rain…
A cold, tightening knot of dread as Lois reached the bottom of the file.
Official commendations from Metropolis precincts, local bravery awards, and community service plaques addressed to Peter. Every single one of them was marked Returned to Sender or Recipient Absent. It was like no problem, no need to make a spectacle out of it.
I'm fine..
A copy of Peter's official Metropolis Welfare and Social Services record. Year after year, the clinical casework notes tracked a lonely child. "Exhibits a concerning, hyper-fixated drive to practice self-emancipation from the system," the text read. Lois stared at legal petitions a teenage Peter had filed himself—using every academic loophole and grueling night class to graduate early, just so he could stop being a financial burden on the state.
Her eyes looked over the full report Jimmy had gotten out. How and why she will ask later.
METROPOLIS DEPARTMENT OF SOCIAL SERVICES
Case File: #449-PARKER-P
Subject: Parker, Peter
DOB: [REDACTED]
Status: Unattached Minor / State Ward (No Verifiable Next-of-Kin)
Document: Psychosocial Progress & Independent Living Assessment
CASEWORKER EVALUATION NOTES (Excerpts):
Behavioral Observations: Subject consistently presents as highly cooperative, overly polite, and compliant with institutional authority. However, staff note a persistent pattern of emotional detachment and social insulation. Subject actively deflects interpersonal connection with foster peers, demonstrating a marked preference for isolation.
Hyper-Independence & Self-Emancipation: Subject exhibits a concerning, fixated drive toward premature self-sufficiency. At age 14, Subject initiated a self-directed academic acceleration plan, successfully testing out of standard grade levels to force early graduation. Subject has flatly refused all institutional assistance regarding genealogical tracing or kinship placement, stating explicitly during review: "I don't have anyone. Please don't look."
Financial Rigidity: Caseworkers express ongoing concern regarding Subject's refusal to accept baseline discretionary stipends or state-sponsored youth allowances. Subject routinely returns or redirects material aid to communal resources. Conversely, community observation logs note the Subject voluntarily allocating his own limited personal resources (splitting meals, distributing loose coinage) to high-risk vagrant populations (ref: Case Log 12-B: 'The Pigeon Man'), while strictly rejecting reciprocal aid.
Clinical Impression: Subject's hyper-independence is not a sign of healthy maturity, but rather a defensive coping mechanism. The subject appears to harbor a deep-seated belief that he is fundamentally ineligible for care, viewing external support as an unacceptable burden on others. Recommendation: Deny immediate independent living status until Subject undergoes evaluation for acute psychological burnout and internalized isolation. (Appealed by Subject; Approved early via academic exemption).
Her nails were tightening into her fist so hard they were just the tip of drawing blood.
"pathological independence," "defensive coping mechanism," "ineligible for care"
The final piece slammed into place: his original Daily Planet onboarding ID photo.
There he was in the cheap, glossy print—a smiling Peter Parker. But as Lois leaned in closer under the dim fluorescent light of the morgue, the vibrant friendly Neighbour was nowhere to be found. The paper was creased and weathered at the corners, the laminate gloss webbed with tiny, physical cracks that ran right across Peter's eyes.
It looked exactly like his reality. A fragile, cheerful mask taped over a deeply fractured soul.
Lois stared at the cracked photo, the heavy silence of the file room rushing back to hit her like a physical blow.
"I'm sure he's waiting for the right time... ready to talk when Spider-Man is ready"
Lois Lane closed her eyes, she refused to cry. She took out a photo of Spiderman. A clear hi cut resolution bordering on flawless. From an angle impossible to do in a quarantined zone of Ice Exploding Unknown Tech Device. His back to her, a crouch, strength churning to carry the world like Atlas.
"Peter Parker…Is…"
Alone. Choosing Loneliness.
Her mouth twisted and let out grief.
"Spiderman"
_
Authors Note: Yeah I might've gone overboard. How did adapting a 22 minute anime episode became this Moby Dick of a Chapter! So yeah the whole wholesome universe is trying to aggressively help Peter Parker. I will take a break from writing this for a while. Catharsis on doing it.
Metropolis the Next morning…
Peter Parker began his day, by stretching, taking his coffee, fixing up an Iphone and whistling a nondescript tune as he walked into the file room.
"Superman is a liar"
A pivot and turnaround as Peter stood outside the door. Staring down in his cup like it could hold all the answers in the universe.
"He dodged every question I asked him, Clark!" He could hear the sitting of seats, two of them. All the noise filtered out as Peter focused on them.
"I have nothing!" Peter heard the sigh. He took another sip "This isn't an article. It's…It's a dead end. Ughh" A groan and hearing the sound of the slight creak of chairs and leaning. "Seriously, who is Superman?"
Peter tilted his head up slightly and gave a smidgen of a smile as he felt what was coming.
"Wel, Maybe he's a nice guy who has powers and just wants to use them to help as many people he can." Rolls off the tongue doesn't it Kent! Peter was about to get off the wall before the next sentence dropped.
"Clark, if you or Peter had powers, you'd do that" Peter stood motionless, confused and blinking his eyes.
"..Do you think Superman talked to him yet" Why was the worry in Lois' voice making Peter's chest tighten. Wait what did she mean by Superman talking to him..?
"..I'm sure he's waiting for the right time Lois" He said in the most gentle of tones. "I'm sure Superman will wait just outside his door, ready to talk when Spiderman is ready."
Peter heard nothing but the smooth friction of fabric upon a godly alien's shoulder, being looked at by a worried human woman. A tightening of hands clasped to each other.
So there was nothing to worry about. Though there was something off with Lois not publishing the interview with Spiderman.
Oh well. He shrugged and opened the door and was about to announce his intention for the next scoop involving finding curious places where there may or may not be signals of advance tech in the city (hiding the fact there very well could be an underground bunker of government black ops) untill..
BAM!
Peter put the stack of files on the table. Both of his fellow interns (Lois in her blue office suit and Clark in his flannel shirt) both look bug eyed then Lois got sparkle in her irises at the next big thing
"Hey guys I've checked the digital breadcrumbs of S.T.A.R Labs missing tech. We can get this done by done by lunchtime before Mr. White says-"
GRASP! Spider-Sense did not alert him.
Peters shoulder was clasped by a large smooth bare hand belonging to one Perry White "My office immediately"
Everyone screamed!
_
Perry's Office..
Shouting. Well it was Lois shouting, Clark gesticulating while Peter stood there motionless and staring at Perry White with a blank face. No noise out of Peter, just waiting like Perry with a deadpan expression when the firecrackers stop popping.
Perry laid out his hand like a sign from God that commanded his people to peace. "Relax, You're not in trouble for being the newspaper morgue. In fact," He motioned to the stack of papers on his desk, bound and neatly folded and clipped. "This is an exemplary piece of work, you've got the photo layout, the penmanship and a hell of a work ethic" He..almost smiles at them, eyes looking over each of them "Truly exceptional kids, I mean that, but you're still interns. You aren't ready for the full staff writer desk yet."
Lois' squeezed outrage jaw happens once again!
Then he withdrew his hand "Now shut up I'm about to be nice" Like it was a miracle from the book of genesis.
Perry inhaled and exhaled.
"You keep telling me you want to be a reporter, loudly, repeatedly" Why was he giving Peter the look as well?
"So tonight. I'm going to give you your shot." With this Perry tapped his ipad to illuminate a 3d model of face that screamed punchable and smug entitled. The hair, preening sidejaws that you want to slap, the man bun, the beard.
The beard!
Peter's eyes locked onto the beard and swore he could Mr Stark from the grave would say Ivo was trying to emulate HIS Anchor Beard and missed the anchor and dragged himself through a hedge, like he tried to clone a blueprint he dropped in a puddle. Hold it in Peter! Hold in the snark!
"Dr. Ivo. CEO of Amazo Tech." He paused for dramatic effect and swiped showing images of the company and its graphs "As in, Amazo phones, computers, security, anything else you can think of"
Except having proper facial hair How To Guide Thought Peter.
"And the man who used his criminal connections to displace a whole neighbourhood for his headquarters." Clark said firmly, his eyes staring tightly. "Not to mention the accidents that always seemed to hit his competitors"
Perry shut off the view screen and motioned with his hand as though pointing out an obvious truth, his eyes locking on to Peter in expectation.
"But no one has been able to verify those rumors," He put his hand down to point and tap finger on the desk "and we work in facts."
"Mr. White" Peter comes in and The Chief leaned back to bask in the obvious discourse he was about to receive, Lois and Clark began beaming at this clear validation and chance to bust huge story right open opportunity "Amazo Tech's current stock liquidations match a classic pattern of desperate overcompensation. The man's psychological stability is likely fracturing under corporate duress.."
Perry white put up a finger as if to say stop the presses while shutting his right eye "I appreciate the forensic accounting, Parker, but we need the story. If you've got real doubts, pass your notes to Ronnie." He opened his right eye and the three interns looked behind them to see Ronnie Troupe come in and give a smile to Peter and pick up the files. She stops midway to the door "The door is always open Parker" and she exits.
Lois…didn't flinch but it was a near thing. Clark looked worried and Peter just looked confused. Perry sighed and rubbed between his eyes.
"Fact is," They turned back towards him "He's the most eligible bachelor in the City"
Peter gagged like a fish catching a hook in its mouth at that line before immediately forcing himself back to a placid look which the grins of Clark and Lois showed they caught. Perry continued with a twitch of face and tried to sound professional ignoring the slight slip of laughter in his next segway "So Cats writing an interest piece on him" With a click swipe Perry brings up the building.
"...Oh. Oh, wow." Peter opened his mouth "Did he... did he let a toddler design his corporate headquarters? Is that actually the final layout?"
Lois Eyes widening, instantly smelling a story and feeling a genuine miracle was coming out of Peter's mouth "What do you mean, Hoobae? What's wrong with it?" She said her pen and notebook were out. Clark was thinking oh this is going to be either good or absolutely crazy (Please don't fire us Mr White).
Peter Leans over the tablet, reflexively swiping and pinching the hologram to zoom in on the structural pillars like he's back in a familiar laboratory of Iron and Mechanical Mayhem
"I mean... look at the upper-pavilion load distribution!" Peter pointed out the scene of Hot Shots 2 where the interrogator says sign here and here while showing a clipboard of signatory papers like it was a pleasant business transaction.
"He's using an aggressive geometric taper on a high-altitude structure in a city prone to increasingly dangerous tech misappliance combat. One stray hit and that entire mezzanine is a giant glass guillotine. It's like his entire aesthetic philosophy was 'make it look like an expensive vape pen'." He snapped his fingers back and put his hands in head to bemoan the iniquities of man
"The symmetry is so lazy. It has all the artistic soul of an unrendered video game asset."
Clark nervously adjusted his glasses "Uh, Peter, it's supposed to be 'the future of architecture'..." Trying to sound like a hopeful golden retriever…
Peter puts his hands from his face and gives a deadpan stare to his roommate."Clark, it's an OSHA violation shaped like a skyscraper. And look at the central power grid on this floor plan."
Peter's hands waved to the side to encapsulate the sheer scope of the cascade of disasters in the form that is this building.
"He's running an unshielded, high-voltage energy loop right through the main ballroom. If he locks down the room, he's literally trapping his own board members inside a giant, glowing toaster oven. Who approved this? Did he buy his engineering degree at a dollar store?"
Perry White thought to himself he is so glad he is not drinking coffee, because he didn't think he could survive it causing the searing death of heat death of his lungs. (Death By Laughter, wouldn't Viki Vale love that for his Obituary!)
Mezzanine as a giant glass guillotine….Vape Pen…Glowing toaster oven.. Dollar Store..
Perry White twitched his nose managing to prevent snort from mouth or nostrils but his moustache twitched slightly that the interns thankfully did not catch. His shoulders tense as he tried not to die from the CODE RED CODE RED in his guts. All hands on station, prevent laughter from destroying the liver we need to live to wipe smirk off Vikis face!
Perry clears his throat loudly, slamming the tablet down onto his desk to hide a face that he would sue for slander!
Giggles and laughter were of course around the corner as the head of one Cat Grant peered around the corner like a horror movie monster with a grin of manic glee as she filed her nails. "Oh, please, Chief, let the kid talk. 'An OSHA violation shaped like a skyscraper'? That is headline gold. If Ivo's hair looks as ridiculous as his floor plans tonight, Peter, you're writing my column for me."
Clark looked like he would die of scandalised rigor mortis with how rumbly his chest feels as he tries to cover mouth with both hands, shoulders heaving like rooster feathers as he tries to stifle the noise of doom coming up from his throat with a cough.
Thankfully Lois with manic glee in the eye grabs Peter by the collar of his jacket and Clark by the arm as she pulls them to the exit before death of scintillating Oropharynx .
"Alright, tech-genius and farm-boy, we are leaving before the Chief changes his mind. We have a gala to crash and a vape-pen skyscraper to investigate!" Getting the hell out of there before Perry rescinds their passes.
Hrrrrl groans a wheezing Perry.
He stands behind his desk. Holographic tablet in hand clutching it tightly with enough strength that almost put a dent in. Angry vein popping on his jaw as he stared with irises going small as he tried to maintain dignity of the planet.
"Everyone. Out. Leave and prepare for the party!" He growled out.
He pointed to Peter and by god he looked like something out of the Muppets with his trembling finger, voice dangerously low growl and his lips twitching against express command by brain!
"And Parker. Do. Not. Use. the word 'Vape'. At the gala. Shut the door on your way out. Now!"
SLAM!
Peter had pulled the heavy door shut. Perry's face lost all iron chains as he skedaddled like a schoolboy running from the teacher by missing class. He drops the tablet on his desk, goes to his private corner of the office behind the filing cabinet and lets loose his roaring booming laughter.
"AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!"
He wipes tear from his eye "A high end vape pen!" He tries to orient himself then thinks of another funny situation with vape pens and wonders what kind smell Ivo is inhaling for his choices in life then he doubles over in laughter "God I hate tech bros. The kid is a menace!"
Perry forgot he was meant to tell Lois to impress him (and warn her to only stick to cards and not escalate the situation!) as he was giving an actual reporters job but the Menace that was Peter Parker opened his mouth and he just couldn't!
God what made the kid loosen up like that!?
_
The Bullpen…
Peter thought he heard a woman whistling somewhere in the distance. Then again it was a Discombobulation sound hearing Cat Grant, Steve Lombard (a very reluctant Ronnie Troupe who tried very hard not to smile and laugh like crazy and turned around and went behind her cubicle where no one was looking biting into her leather seated office chair to muffle her hysterical wheezing) and the Daily Planet snort, snigger and belly-laugh.
Lois was patting him on the back, Clark wheezed and spat out guffaws, a red iphone in his hands ringing and giving clapping and standing ovation emojis of over 10,000 Watchers. Flamebird. With the quick video edit Toaster Line on repeat.
Peter Parker felt his eyes widened, his mouth jaw dropping and his skin going whitish pale like a corpse. "What…the hell did I just do!?"
Steve went over and smacked him on the back, broad grin looking confused then intrigued as he shocked his hand out of the pain and winced slightly at it. "Whoa! Parker! What do you have under that flannel, man? Iron plating? I like it! You've got some hidden steel, kid!"
Cat Grant sashayed over, clapping her hands in a slow, theatrical rhythm. She went over and took hold of Peter's hand like it was a precious stone she had to buy.
"Oh Darling! Sweet Boy. Sweet devilish child!" She exclaimed she patted his hands with the approval of a high fashionista. "That was absolute poetry. 'An OSHA violation shaped like a skyscraper'? I am practically swooning. Look at you, hiding a mind like a razor blade under all that oversized plaid. Tell me, we simply must sit together at the gala tonight and dissect your inner snark. It will be the absolute highlight of Metropolitan Gossip! The city isn't ready for you."
Peter's face felt hotter than the fiery battle at the Docks in New York against Tooms. Or when MJ simply told him alright she knew who he was and in such an objective deconstructive way that tore apart his soul..in a good way.
Shaking himself off from unnecessary thoughts he pressed on.
"I—I really didn't mean to—I just looked at the load-bearing pillars, it's just basic physics, please don't write a column about me— "
Then like the cold reaper of death Lois Lane leaned in despite all the laughter simmering down with the glint in her eye, making his Spider-Sense tingle slightly. Like the tiniest follicles of featherduster tickling his spine warning him of threat to dignity. She looked him up and down appraising his wardrobe. His hoodie, flannel shirt and everything that screamed stitched together and cheap.
"You know, Cat... if he's sitting with us at the VIP tables, he can't wear that. I happen to know for a fact that Peter's entire wardrobe consists of mismatched thrift-store flannel and hoodies with frayed strings."
Peter's soul felt like it drop kicked out of his ectoplasm and decided to fly away and die in the ether that is the void. He looked at the smug smirk and glowing eyes of sparkling doom with unadulterated betrayal.
He turned his gaze to the shadowed smirking tall woman nightmare that is Cat Grant who also had the gleam and sparkling eyes of doom. His only consolation was that he had a reliable ally in his corn-
Snicker. Guffaw.
Peter did not turn around to confirm his untrue statement as Clark Kent buried his chattering twitching mouth vibrating beneath his palms.
Is there no true honest good people in the world!?
_
Meanwhile At…Strykers Island.
"BWAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Due to the guards feeling merciful and good humoured and proud subscribers to Flamebird they showed the phones to the inmates to show what was so funny.
The laughter bounced off the walls, everyone was kicking and stuffing their faces in pillows to stifle laughter.
Siobahan McDougal was finding her insides were twisting into a tornado of knots, her brother next room was leaning against the walls striking the rock. She could hear Albert on the other side saying I can't I can't just! He is hitting the pillows! While Siobahn thought this was the best thing that happened in a long time as she bit into her pillow sounding like an animal screeching for air.
Polybius is a genius and she swears she will find this fellow anti-establishment figure and get them to join Intergang!
Though if male..and cute..and as spunky and spicy as he seems to be online..
Siobahns face turned a natural shade of red. As her mind went to…lower appreciation..
Just as soon as she inhaled knockout gas and fell the fuck to sleep!
Damn Intrusive Thoughts and Sleeping Gas!
She waddled and fell face first on the pillow.
It was getting to the good part…(which she will deny..zzz)
_
Downtown! You don't want no beef boy NO DAMN THAT SONG! (Intrusive Thoughts brought on by the anxiety that was Peter's impending DOOM!)
Metropolis High End Boutique Store..
Or rather the hell that is Metropolis Modé.
In the darkness…A click of a switch and Peter Parker looked up to face judgement from on high, his hands laid to the sides as he drank in the arid smell of iron and dust. His eyes were fervent and pleading, his tone quivering at first until it firms and he says out loud to dispute the prosecution of his soul.
"Lois, Ms Grant!" He stated firmly "municipal press guidelines clearly state that junior interns without formal accreditation cannot attend corporate shareholder events involving proprietary military-adjacent assets under Section 9…"
Light like heaven blinded him into the file room and two women wearing black suits and glasses like fashion agents from hell have come to audit his soul into the fabric of open respectability and strip away his clothed cocoon of safety bubble wrap that was his flannel shirt, hoodie and the new stretched out sneakers he brought from thrift store.
When his eyes cleared and his self destructive anxiety stopped blinding he realised where he was. His thoughts went to a quote that was perfect for what he found himself in.
Somebody once wrote, 'Hell is the impossibility of reason.' That's what this place feels like. Hell. I hate it already, and it's only been a week. Some goddamn week.
A sprawling, tri-level marvel of curved glass, floating chrome fixtures, and polished white marble floors that reflect the bright, neon-blue ambient lighting strips along the walls.
Instead of traditional, cramped clothing racks, the store utilizes hovering display rings that gently rotate in mid-air, showcasing the latest designer streetwear, high-end blazers, and luxury formalwear. Mannequins aren't made of plastic; they are translucent holographic projections that mimic the movement of a crowded runway, displaying outfits in real-time.
The entire atmosphere feels aggressively clean and optimistic, with massive panoramic windows looking out over the Metropolis skyline. In the center sits a luxurious velvet lounge area where Steve, Ronnie, and Clark hang out, complete with a complimentary espresso bar that serves drinks with intricate foam art of the Daily Planet logo.
Peter bit down whatever he was going to say. He was holding it in to release into his pillow when he got back to the apartment and expelled the distraught feelings of embarrassment and shame before the gala.
When the judgement on high pointed their fingers, direction of the change rooms where an entire building block of clothes were situated to the side.
But Peter was looking at the change rooms because of course they weren't ordinary wooden stalls with curtains. Oh no that would be too poor for such an establishment.
For they were honest to god individual, circular mini-suites enclosed by massive, heavy velvet curtains that slid open and shut with a satisfying, dramatic swoosh. Like something out of a Bond movie.
(Peter feared looking at what sort of James Bond they have here in this verse. Best let sleeping dogs lie)
Peter made a mental breakdown list so he can catalog and deconstruct the nightmare that he was in.
The Smart Mirrors: Inside his stall, the walls are entirely lined with cinematic, floor-to-ceiling three-way mirrors. These aren't regular mirrors oh no, they are "Smart Glass" displays that flash with a subtle digital interface, automatically calculating his measurements via a gentle green scanning beam, tracking his broad shoulders and narrow waist.
The Lighting Modes: A small touchscreen panel on the wall allows Cat Grant to control the environment from the outside. With a swipe, she can change the room's lighting from "Midday Press Conference" to "Gala Red Carpet" or "Dramatic Spotlight," casting Peter in a literal, shimmering anime aura every time he puts on a new piece of clothing.
The Dramatic Reveal Stage: The floor of the changeroom is a slightly elevated, circular wooden platform. When the curtain slides back, it functions like a mini-stage. The lighting shifts instantly, and the mirror reflections multiply, forcing Peter to stand directly under the judgmental, highly analytical eyes of Lois and Cat while his Stark-style physique is put on full, undeniable display.
Peter felt his shoulders slump and with the greatest hesitation and the beating of his heart did he consider that fighting a purple genocidal grape from space was less terrifying than this!?
Apparently so as Cat Grant snapped her fingers, credit cards whipped out from her coat, shining like the sun straight from Yugioh. An army of terrified department store employees rushed to wheel out rolling racks.
More racks.
Then giant, towering stacks of designer boxes. That piled up to make a small tool shed.
It grew into a small cottage.
Then a standard 2 story-house
Then into a mansion.
Then finally when Peter's head couldn't stretch any further up. The monolith of shopping bags and boxes that reached the roof of the building like the Tower of Sauron in Mordor. Except the background instead of darkness and fire dissolved into a dramatic, stylized pastel explosion of fashion labels and price tags.
Peter's soul felt like it left his body the second time with the spectral wisp coming out of his mouth, eyes white glazed and uttering the great vocabulary of meep!
For when he saw the receipt that stretched endlessly from a movie he can't remember or think his words returned to him in blank toneless existential dread.
"..This... this costs more than my old apartment in Queens. This is a crime. I could have bought a particle accelerator for the price of these socks."
Lois and Cat decided to ignore the Queens or the Sci-FI slip-up because this requires their full attention. Lois put away her glasses, posing heroically with her fists on her hips.
"No excuses, Hoobae!" She spoke aloud with the cheer and excitement of little gremlin energy "You are a representative of the Daily Planet now! No more wearing shirts that look like they survived an alien invasion!"
Clark was standing like a still statue. His eyes glazed with mirth as he talked on his phone and said aloud. "Jimmy is so, so very happy you don't have to wear his old middle school track jackets anymore. He is literally crying tears of happiness"
Like a man awaiting his execution but knows there is no way out Peter sighed, and walked with the edges of his eyes watering with painful tears to the change room with an aw shucks but smirking Clark Kent.
_
Inside..
Peter stared at the mirror covering all of him, looking at the hover racks, the green scanning lasers that he thought the Resident Evil film/games had nothing on the sheer terror of what it's like to be under the light of their measure of his inseam. The holographic mannequins doing a runway walk across the marble floor like something that should be in a videogame and not in respectable real life made Peter Parker finally open his mouth muttering, letting what he believed was a small exhalation of stress release.
"A scanning laser. For trousers. Because a tape measure is apparently too primitive for a city that builds skyscrapers out of glass panels and hopes and dreams. Look at this lighting. 'Gala Red Carpet' mode? It's a dressing room, not the premiere of an Avengers movie. If Tony saw a floating ring of blazers, he wouldn't buy them, he'd weaponize them and launch them at an alien mothership. I am trapped in a giant, expensive kaleidoscope."
And somehow despite it all..it
The quiet sanctuary..
He took a moment to breathe as the bullpen noise outside went quiet and he was allowed to relax and tentatively stepped out of his functional(but disastrous says Cat Grant) frayed, faded flannel and sliding his arms into the crisp, pristine fabric of the tailored shirt felt... incredibly nice. It was the first time in a very long time that he wasn't just wearing clothes to hide or to survive. The fabric was light, clean, and perfectly molded to his frame, carrying a subtle, premium scent that didn't smell like a thrift store bargain bin.
It felt nice to change into clean, fresh and new clothes. Almost like a dream..except it was real. Horrifying, terrifyingly real.
Then Peter felt that warmness again, that hand on his shoulder, the stroking of his scalp in soothing rubbing that made him feel like he was in a blanket. Why was it so nice? Why did he feel like a little kid again when his Aunt May took him to get new fabric for her growing nephew…
Peter rubbed his eyes with his bare hand to drub away wetness. Salty wetness. It must have been glass in his eye.
(He was sure his web eyes protected his eyesockets)
A strange lightweight giddiness overtook him as he turned around and waited for the curtain to open until he realized something was off..he looked at the three way mirror and noticed the glaring difference. For the gentle green scanning laser had rippled down from the ceiling to calculate his measurements, a localized, high-frequency kinetic pulse had apparently vibrated through the air currents around his head.
His hair was combed by green lasers.
For what was once his usual, slightly unruly, messy post-web-swinging mop had turned it into a perfectly, flawlessly styled—brushed back with a sharp, elegant, effortless precision that looks like it took a celebrity stylist forty-five minutes and half a can of premium pomade.
Peter slaps both hands to his cheeks, completely breaking his cool, sophisticated Stark-style silhouette as a massive, animated sweat-drop manifests on the back of his neck.
"Wait. Hold on." He exclaimed loudly. "No way! How can a green light comb my hair?! That's not how photons work! That violates at least three fundamental laws of thermodynamics and basic structural biology!" He moved his hand to pick at a strand of well coiffed hair that bounced straight back into its wind tunnel tested vision "You can't just bounce a localized electromagnetic wave off a human scalp and expect it to apply a side-part!"
He hear Cat Grant's melodic laugh tapping her designer heel on the marble floor
"Oh, calm down, darling. It's the Metropolis Modé patent-pending 'Groom-Beam.' It maps your facial structure and uses micro-sonic air manipulation to align your follicles to peak aesthetic perfection. Honestly, Peter, for a boy who understands quantum physics, you're awfully old-fashioned about a simple blow-dry."
Somehow Peter heard the chortling of a billionaire playboy philanthropist from beyond the grave as well as the light chuckle of maternal warmth that he finds himself with.
The curtain rises and everyone gets a good look at Peter Parker, Genius Prodigy of Law, Military and Journalism who tried his best to act demure and end up looking like a humble prince.
For upon the circular wooden platform he adjusted his cuffs and looked impossibly sharp looking like the emperor had no clothes.
The charcoal suit he is wearing is a masterclass in sophisticated, minimalist design. The jacket is constructed from a lightweight, matte-finished technical wool that holds a perfect crease, framing his broad shoulders and tapering cleanly down to a slim waist. Underneath, he wears a crisp, high-collared white shirt made of premium Egyptian cotton, unbuttoned just enough at the collar to look effortlessly sharp. The vest is a structured, dark slate grey with low-profile matte-black buttons. The overall silhouette is a direct, undeniable echo of the classic, tailored elegance that a certain genius billionaire, playboy philanthropist famously wore to his corporate press conferences—clean, functional, and implicitly commanding.
Their eyes widened, mouths agape and sparkled. Joy and admiration and they were about to utter a sound until..
"Hi-Ho! Kermit the Frog here!"
A giant cricket chirp echoed in the boutique. Silence until..
The wall of noise happens..
Lois steps over with stars in her eyes snapping her fingers.
"Kermit can wait, Parker! Look at those clean lines! The vest? The tailoring? You look like you're about to host a keynote presentation and launch a satellite. Anthony Ivo's security team is going to let you right into the VIP lounge without even checking your press pass!"
Deflection did not work..
Cat Grant waves her perfectly manicured hand dismissively at the top tier impression. Sashaying forward with a look of absolute triumph.
"Oh, sweet boy, don't try to hide behind a puppet. You are a masterpiece right now. That charcoal wool is doing things for your silhouette that a green frog could only dream of. Tonight, you aren't an intern—you are the Daily Planet's secret weapon."
Deflection did not work…
Steve Lombard of course did not get reference, he went forward to circle Peter like a scout looking at a prime athletic draft pick, practically vibrating with excitement like a girl asked to the ball by the most handsome boy.
"Forget the frog, kid! Look at the posture! You're standing straight for once! Ronnie, tell me I'm not crazy, the kid looks like he's built out of solid brick!"
Deflection did not work….
Only Clark Kent, true to his good nature, understood that reference with a chuckle. True to himself, a true friend, a bro-(wait what?) gave Peter acknowledgement that warmed the young man's soul.
Then he decided to mess it all up by adding praise.
"It's a good try, Peter. But I don't think a Muppet impression is going to make us forget that you suddenly look like a tech billionaire. You really do look great."
Peter's face went red as the sun of Rao(What is Rao!? He thought silently) and sweatdropped the back of his well combed head.
Then as soon as he imagined the nightmare was over they just kept pulling him in (Godfather Part 3 Reference I know brain Peter thought but it happens)
For as soon as the praise died down the boutique's automatic glass doors slid open with a crisp, futuristic whoosh. For right in the middle of trying to recover his dignity—frantically flattening down his Groom-Beamed side-part, rubbing his burning red face, and trying to slouch his broad shoulders back into his comfortable "invisible ghost" posture—when a chaotic clatter of sneakers and bikes sounds from the entryway.
The Newskid Legion bursts right into the high-end lounge area of Metropolis Modé, completely ignoring the "VIP Only" signs. Just like the ragmuffin go-getters they are.
Peter wondered if he accidentally created the next generation of the Goonies and shut that thought down with an iron lock!
Flip Johnson, a woman of business skidded to a halt on her bike right on the pristine white marble floor, drops her jaw. Her eyes morph into giant, gleaming anime circles that look like mini moons to Peter's eyes.
When did he get used to this kind of thing!?
"Whoa! Hold the presses!" She was spending too much time with Lois. "Is that Peter?! Mr. Parker, what happened to your molecular density? You look like you just got a budget increase for a season finale!"
Peter understood the words but can't understand how a little girl articulated such verbose language with such a straight face!
Big Words, adjusting his oversized goggles, walked a slow, analytical circle around the elevated platform where Peter is trapped. He strokes his chin like a seasoned runway critic. Peter wondered why in gods name the little kids here grow up to be such shits!
"The geometric precision of the stitching on that slate vestment is structurally absolute, Mr. Parker!"
Oh kid, who gave you a dictionary!? Who I ask would give an impressionable devious mind such a tool for mischief and mayhem! WHO!?
Lois was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Peter's list of suspects narrowed down to ONE!
(Somewhere a stern looking General looking over monitors drinking coffee felt his ears burn and a sense of unknown camaraderie with reckless explosive subordinates)
"Your visual presence has undergone a hyper-evolved aesthetic upgrade."
Good god he should really cut back on nighttime activities if this what his unregulated mouth spewed into the ears of these impressionable tykes! (He could feel Clark's raised eyebrow as though he could read his mind, dammit Kent can you not be judgey right now!?)
"Furthermore, thank you for helping us recalibrate the sub-space frequencies on our shortwave scanner yesterday—the calculus you provided was profoundly robust!"
Well it wasn't that hard if you knew the..oh no…
Peter freezes, his eyes staring with the utmost seriousness at the Newskids. He holds a finger to his lips, frantically trying to shush them. "Guys, guys, keep it down, please, it was just basic math, it wasn't a big deal—"
Lois, true to form, clasped her hands over her mouth, threw her head in the dramatic head turned back that Peter felt no resistance to the idea at all (he was in an anime world!) opened her mouth with her eyes sparkling.
"WHAT?! Peter?! You are the secret tutor the kids have been talking about?" Suddenly a presentation appeared with the newskid legion connected to Question Mark Persona that flipped to reveal Peter Parker! "The mysterious tech genius who has been helping them with advanced physics behind my back?! Oh, the scandal! The absolute, unprecedented betrayal of my investigative reporting!" She threw her arms to the sky to beseech god for deliverance!
Peter groans, throwing his head back and burying his face in his hands. : "Lois, stop it, I know you knew. I can see the sparkles in your eyes. You're not fooling anyone."
While Lois was doing her Broadway shenanigans Clark Kent stepped up the plate; A massive, radiant smile spread across his face, his eyes beaming with pure, golden-boy joy and admiration for his friend. He steps forward, adjusting his thick frames, looking like a proud older brother.
The giant with glasses and flannel spoke with the love of self respect he thinks Peter Parker has "Wait, really?! Peter, that is so sweet of you!" Oh here comes the cringe sweetness could you at least trim it CLARK! "I knew you were looking out for them! Lois, stop teasing him, this is amazing." His eyes go back and forth with his happy hands and arms moving around like an animated yo you "See?" Clark's tone became a gentle timbre that just makes it hard for you to imagine strangling the wholesome bastard! "I told you he has a big heart."
Peter felt a breath coming up on him and as he tried his best to stifle his
(Yes, a literal lightbulb! Roll with it!)
"Wait a minute…" He said and tried to do a stern older brother figure lecture tone that the Newskid glibly ignored "What are you kids even doing here anyway? This is a high-end Metropolis fashion boutique." He laid his hand at them and pointed with his finger!
Flip wanted to say don't point your finger at me, it is rude to point!
"Aren't you supposed to be on your paper routes?"
And just like that, Lois Lane looked away, crossing her arms and letting out a remarkably loud, completely non-chalant whistle, her eyes tracking a non-existent bird on the ceiling.
Peter blinks, his eyes turning the size of rectangles again to focus entirely on her. "Lois. You called them." It wasn't a question but a statement of pure unadulterated flatness. His hand was down and he folded his arms to give a stern lecture pose.
Lois thought he was absolutely hilarious and sheer naive to think that such an action would ever topple her big sister role!
She went up and gave a playful nudge to Peter's elbow, quickly cutting off the kids before things got too dramatic.
"I called them because you need to face the music, Parker! We have an assignment to crush, and you're the only one who can translate Anthony Ivo's tech-bro jargon into actual English for my notes. Consider this your official field-test."
Wait, was that what this was all about!? Why did she..
Lois gave him a warning look. Her eyes flicked to him and then to Flip who was giving a calm expectant look and..ohhhh.
Peter went down to one knee on the ledge, he looked at the girl with contrition and concern.
"I'm…glad you are okay Flip"
She gave a stare, then her eyes watered a bit then she got from her bike and gave him a hug. A tight little hug.
"Dummy! I'm supposed to say that" She didn't cry, she got her head from his embrace and wiped whatever tear she was having and patted his clothes. "Take care of yourself Okay" She said with the most serious face.
Peter just huffed and was about to give a smile that..was stopped by Flip hand "When you mean it Okay" She said firmly.
Peter blinked. He didn't know how to answer that. Then she got up, jumped off the ledge, picked up her bike.
Hopped onto the pedals, then saluted Peter with a grin.
"So Yeah, Mr. Parker!" She punched the air with her fist "Go show that Ivo guy what real Metropolis brains look like!" She began moving with her feet, getting into position "We've gotta get back to the paper route before Perry notices we borrowed the delivery map!"
Big Words nodded solemnly, adjusting his goggles.
"Godspeed on your corporate reconnaissance, Mr. Parker. May your tailored load-bearing vestments shield you from any structural anomalies tonight!"
With a chaotic flurry of waves and sneaker squeaks, the Newskid Legion bolts back out the glass doors as quickly as they arrived, leaving the boutique suddenly quiet again.
After the helicopter-like movements of sneaker squeaks and bicycle bells, the remaining Daily Planet staff stand in the sudden silence, collectively processing the verbal whirlwind that just hit them.
Steve Lombard breaks the silence first, throwing his hands on his hips and letting out a low, deeply impressed whistle.
"Man... I don't know half the words that kid with the goggles just used, but I gotta say—I like the cut of their jib! Those kids have hustle. Reminds me of when I was a rookie, just with a dictionary swallowed sideways."
Ronnie Troupe chuckled, crossing her arms as she looked out the glass doors where the kids vanished into the Metropolis traffic.
"Advanced vocab is an understatement, Steve. Big Words is nineteen steps ahead of the local school board. Honestly, I love their energy. They've got the kind of sharp, relentless drive you just can't teach. If they keep running the streets like that, they're going to own the Planet's investigative desk by the time they're twenty."
Cat Grant gently dabs the corner of her mouth with a silk handkerchief, a thoroughly amused, aristocratic smile playing on her lips.
"Oh, they are an absolute riot. 'Geometric precision of your slate vestments'? It's practically theatrical. I adore them. They have a certain... urban panache that is completely missing from the tech-bro circles these days. Peter, darling, your little fan club is a masterpiece. If you ever need to outsource your inner snark, you've clearly got a brilliant junior department."
Peter stands on the platform, his face still a light shade of pink as he adjusts the sleeve of his sharp charcoal jacket, though he can't help but smile at how easily the kids won over the toughest critics in the office.
Peter thought he heard a sigh of maternal frustration and..a little sadness. That made him feel guilty all of a sudden.
"Yeah... they're a handful. But they're good kids. You just have to make sure you don't let Big Words near any high-voltage wiring, or he will rebuild your scanner to intercept satellite data."
Then when thinking about satellite data which would lead to catalogue and computing a sudden slight twitch of worry comes upon his forehead which he stops to look at the skyscraper that he forgot about.
"Wait! what am I going to put all this stuff in!"
Cat Grant only shook her head to turn backwards to him, kept on walking "Oh, sweet boy, don't worry about the logistics." waving her hand in a circle "If worse comes to worst, we can just store them in Perry's office behind the filing cabinets." She said that with a straight face yet somehow a smirk as if using her Boss current blindspot would not raise hell for everyone "He's already laughing so hard today, he probably won't even notice the sudden influx of premium charcoal wool."
Until he stops laughing Peter almost bites out.
From the back of the lounge, Steve Lombard barks out another booming laugh, giving Peter a heavy slap on the shoulder that Peter actually has to brace himself for this time.
"Just wear three suits at a time, kid! Layering is in! Build muscle texture too!"
Lois Lane clapped her hands together, a dangerous, competitive spark instantly returning to her eyes as she pointed toward the exit.
"Alright, enough admiring the junior staff and clothing departmartanalisation! The red carpet at Ivo Tower is officially active. "Cat's right—the Planet van is waiting, and we have a tech billionaire's ego to dismantle." Her head snapped to the exit. Her hands folded into Peter and Clark's arms and pulled them towards adventure!
"So let's move!"
_
Nightime… The Daily Planet..
After getting the clothing skyscraper to be inserted into a secure location, (Perry simmered to giggles and glares that melted and gave time off for everyone until the 'quarantine is over') and doing prepwork and relaxing until evening.
They got changed and Peter saw Clarks reaction to Lois outfit and a miracle happens in his consciousness
Yep, his brain is completely fried. I used to think my spider-sense was a lot to handle, but Kent looks like he's currently experiencing a localized EMP because of a formal dress. It's actually kind of nice seeing someone look hopelessly in love... though if he blushes any harder, he's going to accidentally heat-vision a hole through the copy machine. I give them two weeks before he accidentally blurts out his secret identity, or before she completely figures it out because he's a 6-foot-4 brick wall who turns into a stuttering puddle every time she breathes.
(Oh Peter you naive sweet summer child…)
So when he realises Lois is in front of him Peter reacted with appropriate discipline courtesy.
(Which means he is unaware of his face and mannerisms are betraying his brains command and commit grand arson of defensive social walls)
His jaw drops slightly. He gives her a bright, enthusiastic smile, his eyes lighting up with the protective fondness of a true hoobae.
(Yeah..I can call myself that for this evening..no worries..
Booting up with Maternal influence beating toxic self doubt away)
Lois Lane was wearing what seemed to be a traditional jeogori, but then you turn around and bam—totally modern, sharp, backless twist! The contrast between the structured top and the way the high-waisted wrap skirt flows is just brilliant. It has this amazing kinetic energy to it, like a classic chima but completely re-engineered for a modern gala. two-tone color blocking? Seriously, the color theory here is flawless. It's bold, it's confident, it completely commands the room. Honestly, it makes perfect sense for her
"Wow, Lois. You look... incredible!" His eyes literally lit up and he gave an appraising ovation "Seriously, the dress is amazing. It's elegant, but it still has that 'I'm about to break a massive corporate conspiracy' edge to it." Peter went forward and raised his hands up and down to appraise "If Dr. Ivo doesn't give you an exclusive interview out of sheer intimidation, he's crazier than I thought." He clasped his hands together.
Lois beamed, completely thrilled by the compliment, and proudly adjusted her collar.
Then Peter turns and walks a slow circle around the towering farm boy, gesturing wildly with his hands.
"And look at you, Clark! You actually cleaned up! No flannel, no oversized boots—you look like a legitimate, high-flying tech executive." He clapped "Honestly, if the journalism thing doesn't pan out, you could easily secure a job as a high-end security guard for a billionaire. Or a superhero. You've definitely got the shoulders for it."
Clark chuckled warmly, rubbing the back of his neck, entirely amused by the kid's rapid-fire energy.
Lois was smirking, adjusting her earring "Alright, Smallville, stop staring before you burn a hole in the floor." She leaned her head to the side at her hoobae "Peter, back me up here." She twirled around "Do I look like a hard-hitting investigative journalist ready to take down a billionaire, or what?"
Blinking caught off guard and he spewed out words in a slurry(he believes hurried pace of the damned) "Uh—yeah. No, definitely. You look great, Lois. Really great. Like, 'ready to dismantle a corporate empire' great." He gives a thumbs up.
Lois beamed and grabbed her coat "See, Clark? The kid gets it. Now.." Her grin turns catty and earnest which should not go hand in hand but here we are…
Lois crosses her arms, taps her chin, and gives him a grand, theatrical introduction ..
"Look at you, Peter!" Lois beams, her eyes wide with mock-aristocratic pride as the words came like a pronouncement of a herald . "With that posture, that structure, and the way you carried those massive camera cases earlier? Cat was totally onto something. You look like the long-lost, secret runaway scion of... of an Invincible Golden Avenger! Like a rogue prince who escaped from some high-tech Tales of Suspense, leaving behind a legacy of Iron and Industry to live a pure life of truth and justice in the streets of Metropolis!"
Peter…Peter felt like someone opened a hole underneath him and he was falling for thirty minutes..(why that long specifically?) visibly choked on his breath. He turns completely pale, his heart hammering against his ribs in absolute shock. The shock of the punches..the man who built his first real suit, mentored him, died and how he picked up after his messes and was forced to
Clark's hand moves with lightning speed, dropping to Peter's shoulder to steady him, while Lois steps in close, her eyes wide with genuine, maternal panic.
"Peter? Hey, look at me," Lois says, her voice dropping all reporter edge, becoming incredibly soft and urgent. She reaches out and takes both of his hands in hers. His fingers are ice-cold and trembling. "Peter, you're breathing too fast. Stop. Look right at my eyes."
Clark drops down slightly to match the teenager's height, his giant, warm hands wrapping around Peter's trembling arms, grounding him with steady pressure.
"Breathe with me, Peter," Clark commands gently, taking deep, exaggerated breaths so the boy can copy the rhythm. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. You're safe. We're right here. Just focus on my voice."
Peter grips Lois's hands back with a desperate, tight intensity, squeezing so hard that if he were anyone else, it would hurt. He locks his eyes onto Lois's protective gaze and copies Clark's deep breathing. Slowly, the phantom image of a fading arc reactor disappears from his vision.
After a long, heavy moment, Peter's breathing stabilizes. He lets out a shaky, exhausted sigh, looking incredibly bashful as he realizes he just had a full panic attack in front of his coworkers.
"I'm sorry," Peter whispers, awkwardly pulling his hands back to adjust his tie, his ears burning crimson. "I... the suit is just really tight. And vocabulary words. 'Dynasty.' High-society stuff always makes my blood pressure spike. Totally normal orphan welfare kid stuff. Let's... let's go cover the gala. Lois needs her front page."
He marches forward, their eyes looking at him in concern and Peter stops. Looks back straight at Clark and Lois
He stands up straight, adjusts his lapels with a sudden burst of frantic, fast-talking energy, and flashes them a brilliant, slightly over-rehearsed smile.
"Okay! Wow. Crisis averted, the penguin is stable! Turns out charcoal grey is just a very emotionally restrictive color," Peter quips, waving his hands dismissively to brush the whole moment under the rug. He walks toward the exit, turning around on his heel to face them as he walks backward. "Let's get moving, Romeo and Juliet. We have a corporate empire to legally dismantle!"
He pauses mid-stride, his brow furrowing as his own pop-culture reference registers in his brain. The trauma of losing people he loved hits a brief roadblock of pure, studious pedantry.
"Wait, no. Shuck. Scratch that. Romeo and Juliet both die at the end. That's a terrible analogy. Why did I say that? Terrible vibes for a gala."
Peter taps his chin aggressively, pacing backward into the hallway while Clark and Lois watch him, a mix of relief and amusement breaking through their worry.
"Let me think... Uh... Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase! Yes! They went to the literal underworld and survived. Or—or Han Solo and Princess Leia! Wait, no, he gets frozen in carbonite and then... down the line... let's not think about the sequels. Okay, how about Shrek and Fiona? Yes! Shrek and Fiona. True love, great soundtrack, nobody dies, they just live in a swamp. You two are officially the Shrek and Fiona of investigative journalism. Now come on, the catering waits for no man!"
Lois bursts into a loud, genuine laugh, entirely charmed by her hoobae's chaotic mental turnaround, while Clark lets out a soft, booming chuckle, shaking his head.
_
And now..for the main event…
Nightime..
The Ivy-Vape I mean Ivo Tower.
The night was dark; the lights were on, the people going in like ants into a hill where they are adorned in the prettiest and overly expensive clothes. Peter always wondered about when he joked about the Oscars with inhaling cheap pizza and ribbing the endless variety of absurd and stylishly voveryistic outfits that celebrities wore.
He thought of his two best friends and his mind went to a good place.
Ned would probably be losing his mind, geeking out over the futuristic, holographic smartphone technology, whispering that Peter looked like a high-level corporate spy on a top-secret mission. MJ would look him up and down with that classic, beautifully sarcastic smirk, tease him about looking like a tool of the capitalist elite, and then quietly admit that he actually cleaned up pretty nicely.
"Peter?" Lois Lane's voice cut across from the seat right next to him in a smooth cadence of warmth and concern in a low yet loud tune right into his ear. He looked at her and felt his face relax and gave what he hoped was a reassuring grin.
Clark leaned forward, adjusting his glasses with a look of pure, gentle Kansas concern.
"Hey, Peter? You okay? You went kind of quiet back there." His brow furrowed "If the suit is too tight or this is all getting a little too fast, we can totally tell Perry we got stuck in traffic."
Peter blinked, breaking out of his memory palace. He forces a glib, defensive smirk onto his face, leaning his head back against the seat with an exaggerated sigh.
"What? No, I'm fine, Smallville. I'm just more worried about waiting around. Honestly, sitting in the back of this van in formalwear feels like we're being wheeled into the arena. May the odds be ever in our favor, right? Just call me the District 12 tribute." He gave what he hoped a wider reassuring grin.
Clark Kent gives Peter Parker a soft, completely unamused but deeply caring deadpan look, waving a hand.
"No. No Hunger Games references, Peter. You are not a tribute, nobody is hunting you, and Lois is not Katniss Everdeen" Clark's mouth twitched and his right eye crinkled in mirth to the side and his lips let out a sound of a chuff "even if she looks like she could take down a security guard right now."
Lois chuckled, nudging Peter's shoulder with her notebook. "Hey, I'd make a great Katniss. But Clark's right, Parker." Her eyes flashed with compassion "We've got your back. Just remember to breathe."
In the passenger seat Cat Grant rolls her eyes elegantly, tapping her nails against the dashboard and decides to do the one thing that is hardest in her life.
She held her tongue.
Sighing softly "Well... as much as I would love to dissect the social hierarchy of Panem and how it perfectly mirrors Anthony Ivo's investor board, I think I'll save the lecture for the red carpet. Peter, darling, just keep that hair in place. The city is watching."
They stopped at the curb. Opening the door onto the red carpet.
And the vultures came!
_
Peter took only one step out before someone noticed him, took two steps before that person rubbed her eyes, took three steps before that female squealed and started flashing.
Camera. Emphasis on Camera.
For The Metropolis Press Corp like a pack of hyenas. All it takes is one curious look, then getting a sniff of the meat they go wow with stars in their eyes before tapping her fellow cameraman hard in the shoulder like a kid trying to get them to look at the first sight of a dead body.
Of course Stepen King exists in this Verse! Thought Peter at the intrusive thought as the one camera flash instantly turned into a firefly cloud of doom like that of a Balrog.
Why wouldn't they when he looked like a hyper-wealthy, incredibly handsome tech prodigy from an elite Silicon Valley circle. A collective murmur ripples through the high-society crowd.
"Who is that?" "Is he a rival investor?" "Look at those shoulders, he's gorgeous!"
Without even trying the lights veered from unknowable minor celebrities into a startling new thing. Like that of a fresh undiscovered species of animal coming into the zoo.
He freezes mid-stride, his eyes turning into tiny, panicked white anime dots. Turning his head slowly toward Lois and Clark, he whispers in a tone of absolute, high-velocity nervous terror:
"Help me. Please." He pleaded. "There are so many flashes. Why are they looking at me? I feel like a glowing target in a video game." He shuffled his hand forward in a come help me motion "Clark, shield me with your mass."
Lois chuckled and Clark went forward with her as good chaperone/protection detail for Peter, but before Lois can tease him, Cat Grant elegantly slides past them to check their press credentials. She pulls out the official Daily Planet invitation card, upon which Perry White had furiously scribbled a strict, bolded warning:
DO NOT USE THE WORD VAPE PEN.
Cat looks at the card, lets out a dramatic sigh, and snaps her fingers. The card instantly bursts into a bright purple flame of theatrical disdain, burning up into ashes in a second.
"Oh, please. Perry has no sense of dramatic flair. It must have had a sudden, tragic case of the... spontaneous combustion!"
Before the security guards can question the floating ashes, a reporter shoves a microphone right into Peter's face.
"Are you a new venture capitalist from Gotham?"
"Uh, hi-ho!" Some of them laughed appreciatively at the joke showing that there are some cultured people in this world "No, no, definitely not a capitalist. I'm actually just a simple freelance photographer." Peters leaned back a little and moved his eyes to the side bashfully "I just... take pictures of things. Very basic stuff. Please point the lens away from the silk, it's leased." He said with true modesty which he hoped they would find false.
The press corps collectively gasps in admiration, apparently they find it true. "He's so humble!" "An artist! A brooding, mysterious genius!" Peter lets out a defeated sigh. His attempt at being blase has completely failed again. The grinning faces of his comrades behind him were not helping things.
(Why did feel as though a beaming proud blue light maternal presence was behind him giving him a pat on the back and why DID his tie felt like it was being fixed a little!?)
_
So when they finally got the elevator to the a clearly overbearing height that Peter held his tongue from saying something like an obvious overcompensation joke. They stood out or rather Peter would've stood out as he did behind the two of them and talk about game plan. After Peter made a strategic zoning surveillance of the vicinity. The most important tactical information…
Looking at a silver platter of micro-greens and a single seared scallop, Peter whispered:
"I'm pretty sure this catering service is a front for an international tax haven. Who pays eighty dollars for a single piece of seafood that looks like it died of loneliness?"
Lois tried to suppress a snort, swatting him hard on the shoulder. "Shut up, Peter! Don't make me laugh, we're supposed to be professional journalists!"
Clark choked on his sparkling water when Peter looked at the official press question cards Perry gave them and started riffing on them.
"Okay, Card Number One: 'Dr. Ivo, how does it feel to revolutionize the energy sector?' Boring. Card Number Two: 'Can you explain the baseline quantum mechanics of your battery cells?' Still boring. We should ask the real question: 'Dr. Ivo, why does your corporate presentation look like an off-brand tech keynote hosted by a guy who definitely practices his evil laugh in the bathroom mirror?'"
Lois is laughing so hard she has to hide her face behind her notepad. "Hoobae I swear to God, if you say that to him, I'm giving you all my archiving duties." But then she stopped. She considered what she said and had the most queer looking expression on her face.
Clark Kent being the most reasonable adult of the bunch felt something wicked this way comes. He looked at Lois with concern, Peter looked like he just opened Pandora's Box. While Lois…
Pulled out several specially made cards. Colorful, brightly lit cards with precise handwriting that Clark Kent was sure they would be hastily written.
"You planned this" Clark Kent spoke as the grave. Peter's trembling shoulders and shaking shivers permeated his form as Lois nonchalantly was auditing her questionnaire cards with an observant and inquisitorial Cat Grant at her side leaning over her shoulder. Cat gave a nod of approval.
"Lois, Ms Grant I'm sure Perry White gave us precise instructions not to ask questions that would evict us from the premise..or the state" He said the last part while looking over some of the cards as his eyes went bug eyed and he was sweating. Then he realised when he looked up he saw they weren't there.
Neither was Peter.
Who was accosted by fawning and appreciative rich people and taking photos while rich women and a blond haired girl were interacting with him in a very interesting way that he screamed in his posture help me god help me. Clark turned circular to view Lois was asking rapid fire questions that instead of garnering disgusted or disinterested looks he got galvanised and sweating yet perversely intrigued and some looked like their graves were walked over.
Surely questions never hurt anyone..
"Excuse me, sir, but regarding Ivo's proprietary holding shell companies in Delaware: how does your portfolio account for the piercing of the corporate veil once the Amazitech drone pilot program inevitably faces class-action product liability for non-delegable duties in high-density municipal zones?"
A major venture capitalist holding a martini froze, his face draining of all color. He looked at Clark's towering frame, then he swallowed hard, leaned in, and whispered frantically, "We already liquidated forty percent of our shares this morning! Please, don't write that the SEC is looking at the Delaware loophole yet!"
I just asked a basic tech question, why is he confessing to insider trading?!
Clark's eyes went completely bug-eyed as he frantically scribbled down notes, realizing Peter's advanced legal logic had just accidentally busted a corporate conspiracy.
Then Clark overheard Lois talking with her recorder out.
"General, a quick question for the column: given that the Pentagon's strict procurement guidelines outlaw autonomous lethal AI without a hardwired, analog kill-switch, exactly how much did Ivo Labs spend on 'consulting fees' to bypass Section 804 of the National Defense Authorization Act for these specific drones?"
The poor unfortunate victim: A heavily decorated four-star general enjoying a shrimp cocktail.
Reaction: The General nearly choked on his shrimp. He stared at Lois, then glanced at Peter who was showing his lens to a curious bright eyed blond teenage girl, The General nervously adjusted his collar. "Look, Miss Lane... the Pentagon's oversight committee hasn't officially signed off on the field test. If you quote me, the court-martial will be the least of my worries. Just say 'sources close to the joint chiefs' are reviewing the ethical redundancy protocols!"
Lois beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. She surveyed the area and saw Peter sweating and blushing at the advances of pretty rich women who laid a hand on him covering the camera and whispering things in his ear. Lois gave him a thumbs up with sparkling glint in her teeth.
Clark scratched his head, his worries ebbing and flowing like a Kansas thunderstorm. He looked at his neon coloured note
"Wait, what is this one... 'In light of New York Times v. Sullivan and the modern precedents regarding actual malice, does your media conglomerate's active financial stake in Ivo Tower's stock constitute an actionable conflict of interest, or are you just counting on a public retraction to save you from a defamation countersuit?'"
The chief editor of a rival Metropolis media network.
Reaction: The rival editor went entirely rigid. He looked at Clark, sweating profusely under the pressure of Clark's massive, imposing presence, and stammered, "We... we spiked the positive review article! It's not running tomorrow, I swear! Just don't let Perry White run a front-page exposure on our portfolio!"
Clark's eyes practically popped out of his skull. A literal drop of sweat fell from his brow. He looked down at the bright pink card in his hand, then at Peter, who was casually adjusting his camera lens with the calm demeanor of a seasoned veteran while women cooed around him. Clark realized, with absolute terror, that he had just aggressively interrogated a media mogul and gotten a full, terrified confession just by reading Peter's notes.
He looked at Peter, then back at the notes, then back at Peter and now back at the notes thinking What even is this!? Then back to Peter who was flipping him off..wait what no that was just a squinting eye and movement of his hands, bowing slightly as he pointed at Clark telling fellow guests out loud his fellow partner looks like he's having a panic attack and needs some air.
So Peter managed to extricate himself, march forward and drag Clark Kent by the arm into the open balcony and then threw up his arms.
"The moment the heavy glass doors shut behind them, cutting off the chatter of the gala, Peter threw his arms up in the air and let out a frantic, low-voiced scream. "Oh my god! Oh my god, Clark! I am a broke orphan from Queens! Why are teenage heiresses trying to ask me about my venture capital portfolio?! I don't have a portfolio! I have twenty dollars and a metro card!"
Clark would point out Peter was not poor by any metric for reasons too many to count, he just liked to live in self flagellation like those fake priests in the Da Vinci Code movie.
But that was neither here nor there.
Clark let out a long, ragged breath, loosening his collar as a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. He held up the bright pink cards like they were radioactive waste. "Peter, I looked at you, and I genuinely thought you gave me the finger from across the room."
"What?! No! I would never do that to you!" Peter barked, a classic segue of panic in his voice. "I was trying to save us! Did you see those people? One of them asked me if I preferred investing in decentralized blockchain or automated bio-tech. I told them I prefer standard, old-school mechanics because 'wires are more reliable than vibes.' They wrote it down like it was a prophecy!"
Clark leaned against the stone railing, rubbing his temples. "Peter, I asked a man a question about military AI procurement, and he almost started crying. He told me his wife was going to leave him if the SEC got involved. What kind of questions are these?!"
"They're called leverage, Clark," Peter snarked, leaning next to him, finally relaxing a fraction. "Back home, you learn that if you don't ask the terrifying questions first, the guys with the giant tech towers end up accidentally dropping a building on you. Trust me on this one."
Through the glass doors, they both looked back into the ballroom. Lois was absolutely having the time of her life. She was practically vibrating, aggressively cornering another board member with Cat Grant standing right beside her like a proud, predatory mentor, nodding along as Lois delivered another devastating line.
Clark stared at his partner, a mixture of profound awe and absolute dread washing over his face. "I am frankly terrified of what we have unleashed," Clark muttered aloud, his voice trembling slightly. He looked down at the younger photographer, a soft, genuine warmth breaking through his panic. "But... Peter, you're a really good friend. Seriously. You're doing all of this just to help Lois get her story."
Peter rubbed his head and looked bashfully with a small self-depreciating smile. "I'm just doing my bit Kent"
Kent. Not Clark.
Clark was picking up on things.
Terrible, implicating things. Then he remembered why this was a good place to talk and let the air out. It's what Ma and Pa did to help ground himself.
When he felt like he could levitate into the sky, letting gravity fall away and let himself drift into the clouds..alone.
You doing more than just a bit Peter
Clark leaned backwards on the balustrade, looking over at the party that is the whirlwind of chaos that is Lois Lane armed and dangerous. How stunning, how beautiful she looks gliding around socialites who after hearing a signal klaxon sound from the Time Machine became pale as ghosts and sweating like naked seals did they ovulate their panicked confirmation of secrets.
Clark knew those words might need some checking but who's thinking at the moment anyway when you see her..
He didn't realize he sighed in happiness. He did realise Peter's taunting smirk. Oh yeah Mr Peter Parker can't stand to smile in happiness but he will engage in petty cathartic scorching of his friend.
If only he could make Peter say it out loud..
Peter knew Clark was looking at Lois and what he was thinking, then Peter relaxed his shoulders and sighed. Giving the bigger man a look.
"Honestly, Clark?" he put his right hand forward towards her as she made a trust fund man literally piss his pants judging by the hurried steps to bathroom "Just be honest with her. Girls like Lois... they're smart." Peter adorns a sad wistful smile "They see right through the clumsy act. When I was dealing with... with MJ…" He choked slightly. "she figured out my entire secret before I could even find the words to tell her. She just looked at me and knew. You don't have to be a savior around her." He looked at the ground "Just be Clark."
Clark stared at him, feeling pangs in his chest and coldness on his skin and his eyes felt like twin moons of moisture about to come.
He wasn't sure if it was him or…
(A mothers tea-)
"Who is MJ?" Clark quietly intoned curiously.
Like a spell, Peter shot up and looked panicked, eyes darting, surveying for danger, his form like a trapped animal. Stilled for one paralysing moment until he realized there was no danger. Peter looked up at Clark in confusion before shaking his head and giving out a very, very fake laugh.
Peter pivoted, snapping his camera shutter at a passing bird in the dark to distract himself. "MJ! Uh, right! Michael Jordan! Huge fan. Total basketball legend. Just, you know, thinking about how he kept his baseball career a secret and it didn't really work out for him. Totally relevant analogy! Anyway, look at the time, we should probably get back inside before Lois realizes we aren't actually having a medical emergency!"
Clark didn't say anything. He couldn't. Not yet.
His instincts were getting sharper when danger was afoot.
Particularly when the lights went out.
_
There were very few things in Peter's life he could say he hadn't experienced. It was now reduced by one on this night. A celebration one thinks.
Peter Parker experienced Hate at first sight.
The pretentious hyping of oneself with one's own voice. The spewing of buzzwords like ticking off of a checklist.
The boy genius who, at 22, disrupted the way we interact with technology..."
Disrupted? Tech Bro word for 'broke something that worked and charged people twice as much to fix it. Boy Genius? Using twenties as a personality trait because he hasn't made a single legitimate breakthrough since.
"Oh, oh, oh, what? Oh, hey, that's me!" A chuckle and gargle of water
…fake gargle champagne, Mr Stark would think that's a waste of good liquor. Oh wow he practised the laugh in the mirror didn't he? Tryhard billionaire playboy philanthropist confirmed because Mr Stark would walk inside a room with sweatpants and command because he understood MATH! This beanpole is sweating through a bespoke suit
"Okay, my assistant Alex went all out, so a round of applause for the little people."
Oh yeah 'little people', insulting the one guy who did the catering, ran the diagnostics, built the tech and pretty much did everything. Treat him like a footnote and I can see the guy's face calculating how much force it would take to cave in your skull with the same champagne bottle.
"Ah. Boom! A perfect but pretentious throw! Nailed it. A chuckleWell, sure, that, obviously, put that on the Tube..."
He said 'Boom' and 'Nailed it' in his own introduction..yeah I'm going to bring this overcompensating clown down!
Ivo was Quentin Beck without confidence or charisma. Justin Hammer without the Rhythm. He was a
A warm hand was felt on his shoulder. Calming him down as the pompous jackass, (for that was what this cretin was) did everything that is wrong in the presentation handbook. Peter took a breath and drank his fizzy water, staring with the most intense deadpan eyes at the sauntering preening buffoon who came to meet and greet. Until he was accosted by a heavy set black man in white suit, an investor and to Peters estimation a soon to be a victim of emotional breaking of a unhinged twip.
"Ohhh." Uttered Cat Grant drinking a long glass of champagne, the beautiful caramel silver going down her throat was silent as though it was a palette cleanser after smelling something repugnant. Lois and Clark were looking at their younger little brother figure (Clark has yet to tell her about his impressions of Peters mental health) with concern as they see a stone faced Peter Parker with the only indication of his mood was the fluttering of his eyelashes and minimalist tightening around his face and eye corner skins.
"..I'll interview Ivo" Clark went forward without input.
"Second!" Lois said loudly, excited for her card and worried that this might escalate out of control
(She will not say that outloud because it is hearsay!)
Cat Grant merely put her glass down and sashayed forward with the most wide eyed grin imaginable. Like a Cheshire cat has found the mouse. "Now for the main event, my sweet devilish child"
Peter thought he heard the lyrics. Is this entertaining? From the song Bones by Imagine Dragons. Finishing off his drink he put on a little table and noticed that the curious bachelorette groupies (vultures!) are circling him and his mind was going to Demon by Starset.
Odd lines of thought but maybe he just wasn't in the mood for corrective sounds echoing in his cerebral cortex as he had positioned himself just within hearing distance and looking at Ivo talking with Curtis the board member. (Which thankfully the vultures had picked up on Peters look and paused to listen to the whispered conversation becoming loud)
Everyone could see Curtis' frowning disposition and newfound sweat as Ivo grappled him in manic daze as soon as the words 'broke' and 'so listen to me' by Curtis exited his mouth and Ivo seized him by his shoulders.
"No, no, no, no, no you listen to me" The panicked sound of desperation masking itself as a seizure of control.
Thus began the pontification of a brand new product, the sweating of Curtis by Ivo's unhinged nature and the threat of harm. The 'redefine humanity' and 'all the money problems will go away' the exact same line tech bro's say right before they get indicted for wire fraud.
(Peter was feeling Mr Starks energy tonight)
"So why don't you go ahead and keep the board happy until the end of the night?" Desperate, powerless move masquerading as a request. Asking his shareholder to play babysitter to the people who are currently holding the guillotine rope.
Cough throat.
"Excuse me Dr. Ivo"
Good old Clark coming to another's rescue, a firm polite exterior of an intrepid reporter holding recorder to the smaller man's face.
Ivo let go of Curtis who backed away and Ivo tried to pivot and see Clark. "Excuse me, what now…I didn't realise Reporters came in this size what are you a linebacker."
A quick hit.
"Think fast!"
Slam!
"Ow!"
Peter thought Ivo's sore wrist would be the least of his troubles.
Then the words came. Peter ignored the majority of it, Cat Grant raised a very, very slight eyebrow at the 'little lady' comment. Ivo was on a roll in trying to egg Clark into the mano el mano brotherhood to bribe Clark into forgetting Curtis' debacle in exchange for private interviews and meeting 'Classy Girls'.
Then they saw Lois trying to mumble, preening and chewing on an oversized, overpriced caviar like a chipmunk.
And Ivo made the 'uuugh' sound with his tongue sticking out and distaste.
Peter's hand tightens the glass, almost hearing the sound of cracking. The women of high society had picked up on Peter's face and they had the self preservation instincts to back away by the overshadowed look that cast on Peter's face.
"A real classy gal, you know?"
Ivo's arm tried to encircle a stone cold Clark who went to his full height and towered over Ivo. Ivo began to sweat.
Clark didn't need a card. He decided to use his own words. His own calm, politely cracking fury.
"Well, I'd say your company displaced an entire neighborhood in a real estate deal connected to the Gazzo crime family," Clark said, his delivery carrying a heavy, unyielding gravity. "Is that what you'd like to focus on?"
Ivo's greasy smirk completely vanished. He blinked, stunned by the sudden, fierce shift in the giant reporter.
"Or perhaps you want to comment on the investigation into the fires that took down your other competitors?" Clark continued, stepping forward so his shadow completely eclipsed the billionaire. "Because I'd love to talk about that, mano a mano."
Lois's jaw dropped slightly, a surge of fierce pride hitting her as she watched Clark completely clock the guy.
Peter Parker and Cat Grant however were nowhere near that merciful. Or forgiving.
Peter stepped smoothly out from behind Clark's massive frame, his eyes cold and fixed on Ivo like an interrogator.
"And while we're talking mano a mano, Dr. Ivo," Peter interjected, his voice terrifyingly quiet and razor-sharp, "let's talk about how those displaced properties tie into your current engineering grid. Because according to AmazoTech's public SEC filings from last Tuesday, your upper-level energy draw currently exceeds residential-commercial zoning laws by exactly four hundred percent."
Ivo staggered back a half-step, his face turning a brilliant shade of crimson as he pulled at his collar. "That's—we had an expedited municipal review! Curtis, where is the paperwork?!"
"You didn't get a review, Anthony," Cat Grant purred, stepping up to flank Peter like a seasoned general closing a pincer movement. "Because my sources at City Hall say they haven't signed off on a single watt of that extra power."
"Which means," Peter pressed, stepping right up to Ivo's personal space, cornering him like an arachnid about to spring. The intern's heart rate is perfectly steady despite the venom coating his words, ready for the Chelicerae strike "utilizing an unauthorized, un-vetted heavy ordnance power shunt to bypass city monitoring inside a high-density civilian sector isn't just a corporate oversight. It's a Class-A federal violation. And since you just admitted on my active press recorder that you routed around the relays to hide it, you've legally established intent to defraud. If that grid blows, you aren't looking at a lawsuit." Peter's fingers splayed and encapsulated the area around Ivo like a man who caught a big fish.
"You're looking at a mandatory ten-year minimum in a federal penitentiary."
Peter leaned in just an inch closer, the friendly neighborhood kid entirely gone. One finger up. "Lois Lane is the up- and coming star reporter of the Daily Planet, Dr. Ivo." Peters had a focused intensity like a satellite finished calculating a perfect orbital strike as he unleashed his second finger pointing "You, on the other hand, are a future inmate. Just so our readers have the exact quote for tomorrow's front page."
"It's a proprietary shunt!" Ivo blurted out defensively, his bloated ego completely overriding his survival instinct as he cracked under the dual pressure of Kansas ginormous moral wall and a smartly dressed legal trap in the form of a small powerhouse that was stealing everyone's attention!(the last part is most important!) "The future doesn't wait for city code!" He ovated,
Which to everyone's ears sounded like that of a middle schooler squeaking that he did his homework by doing the headlines of a mathematical essay and only putting english answers in number points as though that constituted passing the grade.
The room went dead silent. Curtis put his face in his hands.
Into the dark corners of shocked, appalled, entertained, sparkling eyed geriatrics and snobs and all around more money than sense folk: a certain underpaid, underappreciated Alex was practically suffocating trying to hold in his laughter like he had swallowed caviar halfway until his esophagus decided it should react badly to the adrenaline shot of humour into his overworked, overstressed and over-done with his non plus emaciated self.
Peter casually tapped his pocket recorder, turning to Lois in the corner with a sudden, bright, completely fake smile that didn't match the absolute ice still lingering in his eyes. "I think we got the quote, Lois." Peter began walking over to her "Lead story's all yours." He raised a hand and she smacked it instinctively.
Peter took one more step, froze as his secondary brain functions caught up with what he just said and done. Second step realising the absolute silence of everything. A pall of quiet breath, as though waiting for their heartbeats to begin beating. Peter slowly turned around to see…he didn't think.
Oh….shit
Lois was walking on cloud nine towards Ivo, Clark Kent had the most wowed (and was that a deep level of concern over his face?) Cat Grant looked like she witnessed a miracle on ice, the investors all around had phones in their hands and scrolling down what seems to be high numbers going down. Down. down..
Ivo's face looked like someone filled a bag full of oxygenated blood helium balloons where the slightest touch would pop until like his pinprick eyes of inadequacy saw the phones, the looks, the sheer awe the..
Spotlight was not on him…
They were looking at this…
This…
"Lois Lane. Daily Planet! Dr. Ivo, given the severe structural compromises my fellow reporter just highlighted," With her grin widening to something that Cheshire cat would be envious of inch by inch of the question "did you design this tower to withstand the realities of modern Metropolis," One inch "or did you simply scale up the blueprint of a luxury vape pen to sell a hollow illusion of the future to your investors? and.." Somehow it looked like the teeth went past the mouth with a card in her other hand and her eye squinted at it.
"Why does your corporate presentation look like an off-brand tech keynote hosted by a guy who definitely practices his evil laugh in the bathroom mirror?'?"
Anime Physics.
Pin drop.
Ivo's face went white as a sheet, sweat coming down like rain on pastry. His body stood still, he could feel his hands shaking, his facial muscles twitching. His mouth opened and closed and looked like a gawping fish hanging on dry land. He looked like he would have an aneurism of the soul. With his twitching vein pushing flesh that was about to erupt his eyes just managed to convey the situation for room just enough to conclude that kicking these UNGRATEFUL NEEDLING PESTS OUT! Would not be the wisest of choices.
Corporate Negligence and Military Violations would be his tombstone before the night is over.
So he took a breath and mustered the only wise course of action. The one with magnanimity and dignity of a futurist!
"Alright! Okay! Clearly, the Daily Planet has a very... imaginative fiction department!" Ivo forced a high-pitched, wildly unconvincing laugh, his hands shaking as though he was trying to calm down an excited crowd of worshippers rather than the stunned, observant and
For he was throw-stomping.
(He thought he was walking away from small minded peasants who didn't understand his misunderstood genius!)
He was practically manic, his shoulders locked up to his ears, his arms swinging too fast, and his expensive Italian leather shoes hitting the floorboards with a series of loud, hollow, rhythmic thuds. He was completely oblivious to the fact that his "visionary walk" looked exactly like a toddler sulking because someone took away his favorite toy.
In other words the Absolute Ultimate Bitch Move.
As soon as Ivo was out of the room. A sound could be heard.
CLAP!
CLAP!
Everyone turned to the blond teenage woman who looked as though Heaven above sent the son of Mercury, Mars, Minerva and Venus (she had rudimentary knowledge and highly active imagination so she assumes they can all have children with each other at the same time so its normal to think that) to take the the halls of power and topple the false idol.
Then the clapping infected everyone.
Peter Parker looked at them, then at himself, then back to Lois who was giving him a double thumbs up while Clark awkwardly clapped while Cat Grant gave a whistle and gave a glass.
"A toast to the main entertainment" No shame at all.
Everyone raised their glasses.
Peter wanted the floor to open up and a monster to reach out.
He is simply off in a few minutes.
_
Peter decided the best course of action was to say he needed to go to the bathroom.
He took a frantic step backward, nearly tripping over a decorative topiary. "Bad shrimp. The, uh... the aggressive geometric taper of the catering buffet is causing immediate civil liability to my stomach."
…Why does it look like they don't believe a word I said and are those womens eyes going supernova..!?
Go go go go go!
Into the gold plated double doors of a bathroom (gold on bathroom doors seriously!?) Flinging himself inside, he let the heavy soundproof door click shut behind him. The high-society chatter vanished. Peter lunged for the marble sink, slapped the automatic sensor, and splashed freezing cold water over his face. He gripped the edges of the sink, staring into the mirror at his perfectly combed hair, his chest heaving.
Washing his face and drying it and his hands and questioning every decision he has ever made.
"What the hell did I just say!?" He muttered. Then he blinked and looked befuddled "I didn't even say that last part! Lois did and.. 'Vape-Pen..'Glass Gulotine!' Who talks like that? I'm supposed to be an anonymous intern! I'm trying to keep a low profile, and I just audited a billionaire's floor plan like a psycho prosecutor!"
Next to him Clark Kent in his big mountainous form giving off weird vibes (big brother energy a voice whispered in the ether)
"Well... if it makes you feel any better," He said clearing his slightly fogged glasses from the humidity "I think the exact moment you lost them was when you used the phrase 'unshielded high-voltage energy loop.'" He intoned the last part imitating Peter's faux deadpan.
Peter lifted his head from his hands, giving his roommate a thoroughly SUPER deadpan, miserable stare. "Thanks, Clark. Super helpful."
"And then you really drove it home when you did that whole aggressive finger-snapping, hand-waving thing to encapsulate the cascade of disasters," Clark added, his blue eyes twinkling with genuine amusement as he mimicked Peter's frantic hand gestures. "Very theatrical. Very 'tech-tycoon-ordering-a-hit-on-a-competitor'."
"Ha, ha," Peter said, his voice dripping with pure, unadulterated sarcasm. He grabbed a paper towel and aggressively dried his face. "Incredible. Truly. Lois is out there writing a front-page article that's probably going to call me a 'shadow tech savant,' Cat Grant is going to try to profile my non-existent tax returns, and those women by the punch bowl looked like they wanted to dissect me. I need to get out of here. Right now. Without drawing a single eye."
Spiderman needed to start sleuthing because if trouble is about to go down he needs to be up and ready for it.
Clark Kent took a moment before taking his glasses off and looking at them, looking at himself in the mirror, looking at Peter and his normal expression and demeanor. How Peter was frustrated, put off yet determined like an actual teenager rather than..whatever that was in the gala. He wanted to ask where that venom came from, he wanted to ask what happened to him but most of all he wanted to ask..
Are you Ok?
"Peter.." He was about to continue but thought better of it "Alright, I've got you" Clark said softly, readjusting his glasses and instantly slipping back into his bumbling, uncoordinated persona. He grabbed a stack of extra hand towels, deliberately tripped over his own oversized shoes, and pushed the bathroom door open.
"Oh! Whoops! Sorry! Excuse me!" Clark boomed loudly, intentionally stumbling directly into the path of the approaching security detail and a group of curious onlookers, scattering paper towels across the hallway like a one-man avalanche of clumsy Midwestern charm. "So sorry, I just—my glasses, they're so foggy, did anyone see where the ice sculpture went?!"
With the entire hallway's attention completely locked onto Clark's spectacular, engineered disaster, Peter slipped out of the bathroom door like a ghost, blending seamlessly into the shadows of the utility corridor and disappearing before anyone could ask him for his business card.
Clark would ask him later.
He needed to check on Lois…
Where Cat Grant told him she was out to decompress in the stairs non-chalantly.
The exact same stairs leading to labs.
Of course she is..
_
Slipping down the emergency stairwell. He needed a minute to let his hyper-stimulated senses cool down and figure out how to slip into his costume. No cameras, good. Web shooters: check, red and blue under charcoal suit: check, combed hair needs to be ruffled back to its normal shape: check!
He paused on the concrete landing two flights down, melting into the shadows to pull his mask out of his pocket.
"Showtime." He muttered with gravitas.
(He did not squeak and leap into the shadows when he heard the steel doors open two floors up.) He tactfully cling to the shadows like a perched silhouette in the darkness outside the light.
Then he heard the familiar footsteps of his co-interns
(He was somehow hearing a raised eyebrow that made him feel scrutinised and so very very shamefaced and embarrassed.)
If he moved now, the echo would give away his position. So, he listened. Like a fly on the wall or in this case..
A Spid-
Why am I thinking puns? Why AM I THINKING LAME PUNS!
"I still can't believe it," Lois's voice echoed down, breathless and vibrating with an electric, hyper-positive energy. "Did you see Ivo's face, Clark? Peter practically put him in a legal chokehold, and honestly Cat stomping his groin with her heel would be less painful than what she did!"
Clark Kent made an oof sound. (Peter would deny he uttered the same cadence)
Peter managed to see from the corner light, edging himself closer to see up the stairs or a clear view of them sitting on the steps.
"If this doesn't get us the front page, nothing will." She was laying back pleased "But honestly? Even if Perry kills the story... we're going to get there. Very soon. I just know it."
Clark chuckled, his warm, steady voice bouncing off the concrete. "You're incredibly confident tonight, Lois."
"Because I have you guys," she said softly, and Peter could hear the fierce, grateful smile in her tone. Then she noticed something on the big man's shoulder.
"Take off your clothes"
Excuse me! What!?
"Excuse me! What!?"
"The Jacket badboy!" She said teasingly. "I've ripped enough blazers running after stories that I'm always prepared."
She took her jeogori off to reveal her backless white top of boldness. Clark Kent was seeing something magnificent and Peter had to shield his eyes to protect his seniors modesty because he was a gentleman.
She took out her matchbox sewing kit unaware of the flushed and blushing farmboy who took off his jacket to reveal his godly physique with doleful eyes and glasses that make him a possible walking crime to elicit unsolicited attention from male and female admirers.
Lois Lane's cheeks gained a soft glow of redness as she shyly looked away.
"Oh, wow, uh. This seems old, how was it a highschool jacket?"
"Chess Club. I never played sports" He looked downwards in mollification.
..There is no way she is buying that Clark…
They looked intently at each other. Deep in their eyes. Their faces inching closer.
Peter felt he should turn away. The scene was pulling something deep inside him he swore he buried. Longing, wistfulness, sadness, grief.
(Peter felt a hand on his back. Massaging it, causing him to breathe in soft night air. Like a calming balm on a scorched spine. Cooling his joints and making him loosen)
Then all of a sudden they realised just at the right time what was happening and they blush tomato red and went all shy and bashful and anime awkward.
"Ohh boy! Hah, we almost lost our professionalism there huh?" Clark rubbed the back of his head vigorously and looked straight ahead in the corner as if discovering a rare species of moth he could find in a vape pen tower.
"Yeah! Oh yeah, yeah, yeah. Oh yeah…" Lois stuttered and tried to keep her chest from bursting out as she calmed down and took a deep breath, entering her serene happy place: her fingers mindfully tracing a loose line of stitching on the shoulder of Clark's jacket.
Peter will remember this for blackmail.
(He felt a swat on his arm and heard chuckles)
Then, Lois broke the silence, her voice dropping into a lower, more vulnerable register. "Clark... I'm really worried about him. About Peter."
Peter stiffened.
"He's my hoobae," Lois continued, her tone laced with a deep protectiveness. "But every time I ask about his upbringing here in Metropolis, he just... deflects. He cracks a joke, makes a pop-culture reference, and slips away. I didn't want to pry at first. I see so much of myself in him. I know what it's like to feel like you're trapped in someone else's shadow, or like you never really got to have a proper childhood."
Lois sighed and had this bizarre look of not understanding how as a little girl couldn't believe she skydived. (The General thought he had a heart attack when he learned she had 'self volunteered' herself on a military plane and took a parachute. The pilots and soldiers were very stinky afterwards in recollection of being held tightly in her fathers arms as she couldn't see his face)
I actually... I actually talked to my dad about it." Like it was the greatest breakthrough "That's the real reason I finally answered General Lane's call the other day. I wanted to see if military records had anything on Peter's family, or if he was just entirely alone."
"I'm worried too," Clark admitted softly. Peter heard the rustle of Clark's heavy form as he shifted weight, his large frame inherently hunched to hide his stature. "Lois, the stories I hear about him around the city... he goes out of his way to help everyone. Repairs, legal advice, heavy lifting."
He had a smile on his face then it turned sad
"But he refuses to accept a single cent, or even a thank you. Me and the other tenants in our building literally have to aggressively persuade him" Lois gave him a raised eyebrow and a hint of a smirk as she could see through his double talk and found it hilarious which he responded with pivoting back to earnestness to cover his shame.
"like, polite, intense guilt-tripping—just to get him to accept a home-cooked meal as payment." He gesticulated. Then his arms settled down and he had his head in his arms.
"He's seventeen, Lois. But he's trying so hard to skip straight ahead to being an adult." He put his head up and looked serious. "He has a wall around him. A really polite, charming wall. But it's still a wall."
"There's so much pain in him," Clark said, his voice heavy with empathy. "When I listened to him back there in the ballroom... when he..."
"Tore Ivo a new one?" Lois offered cheekily, trying to lighten the heavy mood.
"I was going to say 'aggressively negotiated a corporate compliance audit,'" Clark corrected with a small laugh, though it quickly faded. "But the point is... I just want him to open up. I want him to trust us. Believe it or not, he's getting so much better, and fast."
…What..?
Honestly, sometimes I think the universe itself brought him to us because it wants to help him heal."
"Speaking of people carrying the weight of the world," Lois said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What do you think about Superman? And... Spider-Man?"
Peter's ears pricked up. Above him, Clark went absolutely still. It felt quiet, like a pall before the soundless vapidness of space.
It was an unsaid, fiercely guarded mutual understanding between roommates who actively chose not to think too hard about the details to keep their sanity intact.
(Which was fine…wasn't it..?)
"I think Superman is telling the truth when he says he doesn't know where he comes from," Lois murmured, her investigative instinct mixing with a genuine, heavy worry. "But Spider-Man... Clark, did you really listen to that exclusive interview tape I made? The way Spider-Man talked about why he does this?"
"He said,"
She took a long agonising breath.
'When you can do the things that I can do, but you don't... and then the bad things happen... they happen because of you.'" Lois quoted it softly, her tone laced with raw, human concern.
An observant listener could hear what she was truly picking up on. "He didn't just mean it as a responsibility, Clark. The way he said it…" Peter could hear the choking sob that almost broke out "the absolute, crushing finality in his voice... it didn't sound like a hero's mantra. It sounded like a confession. It sounded like a suicide pact with his own conscience." She threw her arm out angrily as though to hit some invisible tragedy. "Like he expects to keep running until he completely breaks apart, because he thinks he deserves the punishment."
No, Peter thought frantically, a cold sweat breaking out across his neck. No, it's just the rule. It's just math. If you don't help, people die. I don't need a home. I'm just a ghost here. I don't deserve—
Suddenly, a profound wave of grief washed over him, completely external to his own thoughts.
Almost a wail.
"Don't Say That"
Peter felt as though his whole world was frozen. Hearing a chanting, a mournful chorus of dead stars and lost children.
What..Who was that..
He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, yet he was alive, he was locked into something else. His eyes glowing blue as though the universe itself stopped for him.
"Kashkhu-ya, dza-el..."
(Listen ... .of…spirit) His brain couldn't translate the full message. It was though his mind was not ready for such a thing..or rather..
Phantom syllables ran through his veins. Warm, commanding, pleading, why was it so terrifying. Why..why was it so beautiful.
"Chi tahr-ra... chi zho-el, do-ah…"
(You are ... .not…ghost. You are…light, please..)
"Mia filo, mia bela filo"
Filo…that means…
Peter Parker pulled himself against the wall. His knees gave out and felt as if the whole world was trying to reach out and open his chest.
He had to..He had to..What was he supposed to do!?
"What..." Peter choked out, a single, stray tear escaping his eye before he could wipe it away. "What is that? Who..."
Before he could pull at the thread of the memory, Clark's voice from above cut through the haze, carrying a quiet, resonant promise: "I'm sure Superman will have the opportunity to talk to Spider-Man very, very soon, Lois. And I'm going to make sure he doesn't have to carry it alone anymore."
Oh you don't have to worry Clark I'm fi-
Peter's brain stopped working for one second. As his mind caught up to what he just heard.
"...You?" Lois said quietly.
…..What the FU-
A noise happened…
Rather a steel door opening with a loud clang and woman crying.
Spider Sense tingled and purple light was in the darkness of a hallway. Where Clark and Lois went around the corner to hear a female scientist holding her face in her hands coming out of a secret room. Of course there is a secret room. Peter put his mask away. Not yet..
He followed the two of them in the darkness. Towards a purple light and an opened metal door. Which was a heavy security door that hadn't been properly latched, so the two found themselves in a hidden, high-tech server room adjacent to the main lab with Peter ghosting in right behind them, shutting the door with a microscopic, silent click.
He looked around the room and mentally sighed. A secret room. Of course there's a secret room. If I had a nickel for every time a tech billionaire built a hidden mad-scientist lab behind his legal assets, I'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but…oh wait Mr Stark would hate that his work be called mad actually he'd just be called tech billionaire..Sorry Mr Stark.
His eyes rapidly catalogued the hardware laid out on the tables. It was a highly illegal, modular weapon chassis utilizing the exact same glowing purple energy signatures that Livewire and Intergang had been terrorising Metropolis with. Peter's internal engineer instantly went to work, breaking down the schematics.
Doing two things at once is easy for an advanced brain like his, he moved silently behind the two as Clark 'accidently' squeezed the control panel so that they could enter inside. With Clark turning his head to exclaim it must've glitched, Peter held up his hand for silence, Lois noticed and almost jolted out her skin.
They were about to question before Peter went forward with a come on gesture. They followed begrudgingly and came inside a room that was part antique shop and part sci-fi dangerous.
Okay, let's see, Peter thought, his eyes darting across the glowing components with the practiced speed of someone who used to build web-shooters out of dumpster-dived high school chemistry scraps. Standard Earth alloy for the housing. Basic terrestrial circuitry for the interface. But the core power routing? The frequency of that purple plasma luminescence? Absolutely not.
For Peter had studied, his experience in learning shadow conspiracies, history of technology and how to spot patterns came from the true futurist himself on average lectures.
Mr. Stark in one of his expositions how to spot glaring inconsistencies with societal tech-tree.
(His eyes at the time were staring with glaring mistrust on a globe where the continent of Africa was)
True technological innovation on this version of Earth didn't follow a natural timeline. Everything major—the sudden leaps in high-density energy storage, the weaponised plasma arrays, the components currently being used by Livewire and Intergang—all traced back to a singular, definitive historical bottleneck exactly twenty-two years ago.
Just like his Earth when the Manhattan Crisis happened. Only this time was much longer. More quieter until now.
It's alien tech, Peter concluded grimly, his mind flashing back to Chitauri wreckage, scavenged Vulture gear, and the dangerous, volatile mess that happened when human beings tried to reverse-engineer things they didn't understand. Twenty-two years ago, a bunch of highly advanced, extraterrestrial junk rained down on Metropolis, and guys like Ivo have been strip-mining it for patents ever since. He's taking highly unstable, weapon-grade alien power shunts, dressing them up in sleek modern plastic, and selling them to the military board as 'the future of green energy.'
Then a door on the other side opened, they hid and saw Ivo and Alex coming in and Ivo looking hissy and deranged while his assistant had a deadpan compliant nature. Peters narrowed a bit at the assistant before looking at Ivo.
Ivo was frantic, sweating as the mechanical arms secure the heavy chest plate
"Alex, if you make me late, so help me, I will ruin your life."
Wow. Okay. In the classic supervillain monologue, Peter mentally crossed his arms.
The Assistant known as Alex typed furiously "But it's still a prototype, sir. And short-term wear caused out-of-control aggression in the test groups—"
'Short-term wear caused out-of-control aggression in the test groups.' Genuinely, why do they always say that out loud? It's like a legally binding requirement for mad scientists.
Ivo groaned after gargling water yet again "Aah! Oh, my God, at what point did this seem like a conversation, Alex?!"
Alex sighed, not looking up from the terminal
"When you started talking to me."
'Hey, our super-suit makes people want to punch puppies, let's put it on!'
Ivo grunted angrily as the helmet was coming into place, his voice echoing with metallic distortion "The board's against me! "That…" He threw a bottle that landed in the landfill that made a red beep sound to mark his failure "That fraudulent baby reporter humiliated me in front of the entire city! He cited public SEC filings, Alex! Who does that at a gala?!" He grinned nastily as the helmet clasped on his head
Wow, calling me a 'baby reporter.' I literally just audited your entire life, Anthony. That hurts. I have a very robust understanding of civil law.
"But with this... I'll shut everybody up."
Yeah, because nothing says 'I'm a stable corporate leader who deserves investor funding' quite like putting on a giant purple death-robot suit to murder your interns,
Peter thought, his eyes narrowing as his spider-sense began to thrum with real, immediate danger. Classic.
Beside him, Clark shifted his weight, his large shoulders tensing as the heavy robotic armor on the other side of the glass powered up with a terrifying, unshielded whine. Peter caught Clark's eye in the glass reflection, giving him a microscopic, deadpan nod. Yeah, buddy. Your tech-bro nemesis is officially wearing an unstable alien weapon. Time to go.
Peter's hand darted into his pocket. He pulled out a tiny, crude piece of circuitry he'd cobbled together from old radio parts in his and Clark's apartment—a makeshift EMP disruptor and tracker. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he slapped it directly onto the primary mainframe hosting the illegal Intergang tech blueprints. It clicked into place, subtly blinking green. Nobody is stealing this data tonight.
"Clark, we need to—" Lois turned, but the space beside her was already empty. "Clark?!"
"He must have run out to find security or help the staff evacuate!" Peter lied seamlessly, flying entirely by the seat of his pants.
"Lois, listen to me," Peter said, his voice dropping the bumbling intern act entirely as he grabbed her shoulder to anchor her. "You need to get to the upper mezzanine right now and start evacuating the gala guests before Ivo brings the whole ceiling down. If that unshielded loop blows because that jackass is going to do it, this entire floor is a dead zone."
"I am not leaving you behind, Peter!" Lois argued,
It was incredible how much trust she had in him not to smell the obvious bullshit he was spewing.
Her Korean American brown eyes shone something fierce. "And where is Clark?! I'm not leaving either of my guys!" She was talking loudly.
"Clark is fine! He's probably already ahead of you, helping people to the stairs!" Peter squeezed her shoulders tightly.
"Look, I'll be right behind you! I'm going to double-back and make sure the emergency exits on the lower deck aren't electronically locked! Go, Lois! Get the story, but get the people out!"
It wasn't the most ironclad excuse, and a seasoned investigative (Up and coming Journalist)Intern like Lois would absolutely pick apart the timeline later, but under the sheer adrenaline of the moment, she nodded. "Don't you dare make me write your obituary, Hoobae!" she shouted the last part cuttingly with worry and firm anger, turning and sprinting toward the upper mezzanine stairwell.
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Peter ripped off his tailored suit jacket and tie, throwing them into a corner. He pulled the red-and-blue fabric mask out of his belt, slipping it over his face. The white eye-lenses whirred and narrowed as they calibrated to the dim room.
"Showtime" His mask moved with his mouth.
_
Inside the main exhibition hall, the glass walls groaned as Dr. Ivo stepped onto the stage in the massive, whirring gaudy ass Power Ranger villain armour. The gala guests gasped, backing away as his voice boomed through the external speakers.
"Now! Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come for you to see the future," Ivo announced, his metallic gait shaking the floorboards. "I present Parasite 1.0. We live in dangerous times. Metropolis was the safest city in America. Now we're in the midst of a crime wave like nothing before. And then there's Superman and Spider-Man, these guys who claim they just want to help. But can we really trust strangers to help us for free?" Ostentatious video screens of the two super-heroes
"Of course we can't! The only person you can trust is yourself. And now, with the Parasite, you can become your own Superman. Your own Spider-Man." Videos of the armor and sketches.
"But don't take my word for it. Let's get volunteers." He looked with his hand to head like a salute or a sailor looking for land until… "How about... you?"
Ivo lunged, grabbing a whimpering Curtis by the collar. Suddenly, the entire sky outside lit up. One of AmazoTech's automated security helicopters suffered a massive system failure as the tower's unshielded power grid flickered, spiralling out of control and crashing directly into the reinforced glass structure.
Panicked guests screamed and scattered in the blinding smoke and falling debris.
Lois reached the upper mezzanine, breathing heavily. Looking around the packed, terrified crowd, her first idiot was nowhere in sight and the second idiot was…she was panicking. She looked down over the railing, her hands gripping the metal tightly.
"Clark? Peter? Where are you?" she muttered.
The heavy security doors behind her suddenly slammed shut and locked with a digital hiss.
We're trapped!
Panicked guests screamed and scattered in the blinding smoke and falling debris. Down on the main floor, Ivo grew impatient with the falling debris. "This is taking too long. Let's speed things up." He raised his massive metallic arm, preparing to pitch Curtis straight out of the shattered window into the sky.
Curtis screamed.
THWIP!
A thick, high-tensile web line slapped onto Curtis's chest just as Ivo let go. With a violent tug, Spider-Man yanked the terrified engineer out of the air, catching him in a classic fireman's carry and swinging him safely behind a structural pillar.
"Whoa! What?" Ivo snarled, the suit's automated sensors spinning to track the new target. The HUD flashing inside his helmet instantly brought up a red tracking bracket. "The red-and-blue interloper. Spider-Man. Of course you'd show up to defend a third-rate engineering failure!"
"Yeah, hi! Sorry I'm late, the traffic on the legal compliance highway was a nightmare," Spider-Man called out, dropping into a low, predatory crouch on top of an overturned display table. His white eye-lenses whirred and narrowed as he analyzed the glowing purple lines on the Parasite armor.
Before Ivo could reply, a sonic boom rattled the room. Superman descended through the shattered ceiling, landing gracefully between Spider-Man and the rogue CEO.
"Dr. Ivo! I don't know what's going on here, but you need to let these people go." Superman was all firm in tone.
"And lose my audience right when the main attractions arrive?" Ivo chuffed. "Buddy, I don't think you understand sales," Ivo mocked, his suit whirring. "Alex! Now!"
Spiderman is standing right behind the glass partition as his eyes caught the control room and
Why does that guy look like Gendo Ikari at this moment with the glasses not showing eyes and glowing in the dark schtick!?
Hyper-perceptive honed engineering eyes broke down the activation sequence brick by brick.
To the kid from Queens: it looked like a localized, controlled disaster. The moment the button is pressed, the unshielded alien core at the center of the mechanical cradle releases a violent, blinding spike of violet plasma.
The lights in the entire skyscraper don't just flicker—they visibly dim by half as the tower force-feeds residential-commercial electricity directly into the suit's containment matrix to bridge the gap. Spiderman watches the high-voltage energy loops he audited earlier violently redline. The insulation on the primary cables hums so aggressively that it creates a static charge in the air, making his skin prickle.
He can see the immediate toll the short-term wear takes on the machinery; the dampeners are already buckling under the volatile energy draw. It's an over-engineered, highly unstable kinetic sponge.
"That's right, folks," Ivo boomed to the remaining crowd, gesturing wildly to the ceiling. "Our pal Superman and his bug-themed associate are gonna help with our demonstration. You see, the Parasite 1.0 gives me strength, speed, and durability equal to theirs!"
Superman lunged forward, throwing a heavy punch straight into Ivo's chest plate.
"Superman! Wait! Don't hit him!" Spider-Man yelled, his spider-sense screaming a split second too late.
The moment Superman's fist connected, a blinding purple shockwave rippled through the room. The Parasite armor glowed fiercely, absorbing the entire kinetic impact and feeding it directly into the unshielded alien core. Ivo's facemask came on.
"And if he tries to fight back, the suit absorbs that kinetic energy and redirects it," Ivo roared with laughter. "So the bigger they are, the harder you hit back!"
Ivo slammed a massive, powered fist into Superman's jaw, sending the Man of Steel crashing through a concrete pillar. Superman groaned, visibly weakened as the suit began to actively siphoning his bio-electric energy.
"And while the Parasite runs off the energy it absorbs," Ivo continued his manic sales pitch, completely oblivious to his own mental decay, he let his facemask opened itself to reveal his face which had glowing purple jagged lines and eyes glowing malevolently indigo as his suit. "for longer, sustained battery life, my portable Amazo panic room has your back. Available now." Like a prick he was waving his hand this way and back.
Up on the mezzanine, Lois's eyes widened through the smoke, Peter's parting words echoing perfectly in her mind. The whole show is being routed through his portable panic room command center.
"He was right," She said with solemn promise. "I have to get into that panic room"
Down below, Superman groaned weakly, trying to push himself up, but every movement only seemed to feed the glowing violet grids on Ivo's armor.
"You know, I built this company myself," Ivo growled, his voice twisting into something monstrous and feral as the short-term wear of the prototype triggered out-of-control aggression. Face mask up again. He stepped heavily toward the fallen hero. "And I deserve more!"
"Hey! Sparky!" Spider-Man yelled, leaping into the air. He fired a rapid-fire volley of web shunts directly at the suit's exhaust ports, trying to choke the internal cooling systems. "You want more?! How about a class-A federal violation for public endangerment?!"
Ivo roared, turning his full, terrifying attention away from Superman to swing wildly at the web-slinger. "More!" Ivo screamed, his mind entirely consumed by the parasite's hunger, completely blind to the fact that his expensive skyscraper was beginning to tear itself apart from the inside out.
"More? Okay, you want more? I will gladly give you more!" Spider-Man shouted.
Spider-Man vaulted directly onto Ivo's massive, bulky forearm. With lightning-fast precision, he fired a high-tensile web-line from Ivo's own metal wrist, wrapped it around the back of the suit's heavy shoulder assembly, and anchored it straight to the front of the helmet.
"Stop hitting yourself! Seriously, stop hitting yourself!" Spider-Man quipped, yanked the line hard.
The high-tensile web-line forcefully jerked Ivo's massive, powered right fist backward, causing the billionaire to smash his own robotic hand directly into his own chest plate and visor.
Because the Parasite armor was designed as a total kinetic sponge, this created a catastrophic engineering failure inside the suit. Because jackasses who pawn their workload to the truly capable forget to read the details.
Mainly that The kinetic absorption matrix didn't know how to differentiate external attacks from internal force.
Meaning the schoolyard bully maneuver was kicking his ASS!
The explosive self-inflicted shockwave rattled Ivo's brain inside the helmet, instantly short-circuiting his targeting systems and leaving him stumbling around completely dizzy, dazed, and physically concussed by his own strength.
Spider-Man had jumped back onto a nearby presentation platform. He did a shuffling of shoulders as though he got a good workout.
"Okay, first of all? 'I built this company?" Spider-Man said in a mocking tech bro whiny voice imitation. "Horrible catchphrase. It's totally derivative," Spider-Man called out, his white eye-lenses whirring and narrowing. "Second of all? You're not actually fighting, man. You're literally just letting your steering wheel do the turning for you. You're a massive, over-budget goober in a motorized tank, Anthony! If we took away the stolen alien batteries, you wouldn't even know how to throw a proper left hook without throwing your lower back out!"
Parasite got his bearings and growled. "I am the future of tech defense, you little pest!"
"Yeah? Well, your future has a massive recall notice on its suspension system!" He flipped over from the uncoordinated backhand slam "See, Infinite Data Loop. No coordination, no strategy, just a goober in a little dress trying to play with the big kids!"
"I WILL DESTROY YOU!"
"Back. Off!" Superman had risen from the ground, recovered and looked serious. Ivo turned towards him, grinned and lunged.
"DOGE HIM!"
This time Superman listened and super-speed to Spiderman's side, eyes straight ahead and listening intently.
"I'm all ears."
Spiderman's tone shifted instantly from goofy teenager to something terrifyingly experienced, sharp, and commanding as he leaned into Superman's side: "Don't punch him. Do not hit him."
Superman nodded
"He's a kinetic sponge," Spider-Man shouted across the room, vaulting off Ivo's head just as the billionaire tried to swat him. "Every time you throw a punch, you're just charging his battery! He's feeding on your bio-electric energy! Keep your distance! Let him swing, let him miss, and let that prototype alien core exhaust itself!"
Superman immediately understood. The Man of Steel pushed himself up, changing his entire posture. Instead of rushing forward, he took a step back, floating an inch off the ground, eyes laser-focused, adopting a defensive, evasive stance.
Ivo roared, turning on Spider-Man. "I'll crush you first!"
"Oh, please, you couldn't crush a juice box right now, All for One!"
Who is All for One!?
Clark thought that as Ivo bitched and swatted at them, very heavily. Very slowly now. It was almost as if..
"The power is going down!"
Inside the panic room Alex was sweating and confused and pushing all kinds of buttons in panic, frantically typing on the master terminal, trying to override the strange, creeping glitch in the system that seemed to come out of nowhere. "Sir, the kinetic dampeners are stalling! There's an unauthorized data feedback loop in the main grid!"
WHAM! The door was open! Lois Lane has arrived!
Down on the showroom floor, the glowing purple lines across the Parasite 1.0 armor instantly began to sputter, violently blinking out one by one as its primary lifeline was cut. Ivo gasped through the suit's speakers as the immense, artificial weight of the unvetted machinery suddenly collapsed under its own massive bulk.
"No, I am not letting you interrupt Doctor—" Alex snarled, trying to pull out a taser like thing before-
Lois closed the distance in a flash. Channeling every ounce of her frustration, her stress, and her absolute protectiveness over her missing boys, she wound back and threw a textbook, devastating right hook straight into Alex's jaw.
CRACK!
"Sorry. Your life seems hard,"
Alex went down hard, dropping like a stone onto the metal floor, completely unconscious. Lois didn't waste a single second looking at him. She lunged over the console, her eyes scanning the glowing purple monitors. Thanks to her Hoobaes highly detailed technical breakdown from just minutes ago, she didn't have to guess which button to press.
She spotted the master heavy-density ordnance power shunt—the unauthorized, un-vetted loop routing the building's central energy sector straight into Ivo's armor.
"Unshielded high-voltage loop," Lois muttered, recalling Peter's voice. "Cut the master terminal."
She grabbed a heavy metal security fire extinguisher from the wall, raised it high over her head, and brought it slamming down with absolute, crushing force directly into the primary glass console plate.
SPARK! SMASH!
The main console exploded in a brilliant cascade of white-hot sparks and dying purple plasma. The master breakers violently flipped, instantly severing the auxiliary city grid connection and completely shutting down the tower's unshielded power supply.
Down on the floor, the heavy security gates keeping the remaining gala guests cornered began to groan.
The massive security cage powered down with a heavy mechanical hiss, allowing the terrified elite of Metropolis to pour out into the safety of the emergency stairwells.
"Aah! Cheater!" Ivo roared, the Parasite armor violently expanding as he used the last of his stolen internal battery reserves to launch his massive frame across the room. He swung a devastating, earth-shattering blow straight at Superman.
CRACK!
Both heroes caught the blow together—Superman bracing against the raw kinetic force with his palms, while Spider-Man wrapped a thick layer of high-tensile web-fluid around Ivo's mechanical wrists to anchor him to the floor. Both of them were grunting and straining against the massive, unhinged weight of the machine.
"You cheated!" Ivo bellowed in a manic, metallic rage. His face mask falling down to reveal the very emaciated face underneath rasping for breath "You're afraid... that I'm better than you!"
"This isn't a game, Doctor," Superman said, his voice carrying a resonant, calm authority that cut right through the alarms. "You need to stop."
"We don't have to be better than you," Spider-Man added, his wit completely taking over as he danced around the side of the suit, slapping his makeshift EMP disruptor directly onto the primary battery housing on Ivo's spine. "We just have to stop supplying you with power!"
Then the Spider-Sense went off, it wasn't a warning of danger but shifted. It went from a sharp warning of an incoming punch to a cold, horrific alarm of an impending systemic biological collapse.
Through his whirring eye-lenses, Peter saw the glowing purple lines on the armor weren't just unstable—they were bleeding into the sub-dermal mesh. The unshielded alien core was desperately pulling residual current from anywhere it could, and since Lois had cut the city grid, the suit was starting to harvest the raw bio-electrical output of Ivo's own nervous system.
Ivo bellowed in rage, his muscles violently convulsing inside the metal plates as he forced the suit to raise its arms again. "I can... I can still kill you both! I just need... more!"
The quips completely died in Peter's throat. His Stark-honed engineering knowledge and his background in ethics slammed into him at once. He saw the exact design fault: the suit had no biological failsafe. It would eat its host alive to keep the pilot lights on.
"Ivo, stop! Disengage the armor right now!" Spider-Man shouted, his voice dropping the sarcasm entirely, suddenly sounding desperately young and terrified for the man trying to kill him. He stepped forward, hands raised in a peaceful gesture, completely abandoning his defensive stance. "Look at your diagnostics! Your telemetry is completely redlined! The absorption matrix is feeding backwards into your central nervous system!"
"Shut up! You're working for the board! You're trying to steal my patents!" Ivo shrieked, his vision clearly blurring through his cracked visor as the armor groaned, the plates crushing inward under the sheer pressure of the vacuum.
"I don't care about your patents, Ivo!" Spider-Man pleaded, rushing a few steps closer despite the crackling purple arcing energy. Beside him, Superman watched in stunned silence, picking up on the absolute, raw desperation in the teenager's voice. "Your brain cannot handle that throughput! If you pull another watt from that core, you are going to permanently fry your synapses! It's over! You proved your point, the suit works, but you have to drop the emergency release before it's too late! Please!"
"Never!" Ivo roared, a blind, desperate madness consuming what was left of his intellect. He forced the suit's power cells to overdrive one last time.
"Anthony, don't do it!" Peter screamed.
But the warning came too late. Ivo triggered the final cell draw.
BZZZZT!
The EMP device Spider-Man had planted earlier, combined with the catastrophic overload, violently discharged. The remaining purple plasma in the suit's chassis violently crackled, backfiring directly into the absorption coils. The massive, over-engineered metal plates locked up completely, crushing inward and pinning Ivo inside his own gaudy creation.
The billionaire let out a final, agonizing scream before the suit lost all power, leaving him slumped, heavily panting, and utterly defeated inside the smoking, metallic wreckage.
The billionaire let out a final, agonizing scream before the suit lost all power, leaving him slumped, heavily panting, and utterly defeated inside the smoking, metallic wreckage.
_
The whole room was invaded and occupied by the soft appealing noises of Paramedics, Policemen, Firemen and First-Responders.
Superman immediately knelt beside the mechanical cradle, using his bare hands to carefully peel back the crushed reinforced plating. "Please," he called out to the arriving first responders at the scene. "This man needs your help."
Ivo looked up through his shattered visor, his eyes bloodshot, his tech-bro ego completely reduced to ashes. He stared at Superman, and then at the red-and-blue web-slinger standing beside him.
"You ruined me," Ivo whispered, his breathing labored and shallow. "What's your angle? What's in this for you? Money? Power? A hostile takeover?" Hearing him talk you can hear the pain and weakened voice box.
"Dr. Ivo, look around you," Superman said softly, offering a hand to help the medical team access the suit. "Is it really that hard to believe that some people just want to help?"
The people in stretchers being loaded downstairs. And the people who delivered them unto sanctuary.
Ivo rolled his good eye and fell fast asleep from morphine.
Spider-Man stood just a step behind Superman, looking out at Ivo as he was wheeled away.
All he felt was a profound, heavy pity.
Peter Parker's internal scientific eye instantly mapped out the horrific physical toll wracking Ivo's body:
Severe Neurological Fried-Out: The rapid-fire feedback loops from the unshielded alien core had blasted straight through Ivo's blood-brain barrier. His synapses were firing blindly, causing a permanent, erratic, violent twitching in his fingers and limbs.
Cellular Kinetic Overload: The suit's absorption matrix had violently siphoned and redirected energy, but the biological backlash had left Ivo's muscle tissues completely exhausted, torn, and severely depleted of basic ATP at a cellular level.
Adrenaline Crash and Brain Melt: The intense, localized radiation combined with the prototype's aggressive mental degradation had caused a massive, catastrophic chemical burnout in his brain. His skin was a sickly, translucent grey, slick with a cold sweat, and his eyes rolled back with an unfocused, blank stare.
He literally cooked his own nervous system from the inside out, Peter thought grimly. He traded his entire cognitive stability for a temporary power high. I tried to tell him. I tried to make him stop.
Ivo had built a monument to his own ego, and when that ego was challenged by a few simple municipal codes and SEC filings, his mind had completely snapped under the pressure. He had chosen to destroy his own body rather than admit defeat.
You had everything, Anthony, Peter thought, a wave of genuine sorrow washing over him.
(The phantom, maternal warmth thrummed softly in his chest)
..Feeling things more than what he was used to..
(It didn't feel bad. Not one bit)
But you were so afraid of being small that you destroyed your own mind just to stand tall for five minutes.
turned to vanish into the smoke, his feet already tensing to leap toward the shattered ceiling struts. He needed to get his civilian clothes, sneak back down to the lower decks, and find Lois before she started calculating the exact time delta of his disappearance.
He didn't make it two inches off the ground.
A massive, incredibly gentle, yet entirely unyielding hand clamped down squarely on Spider-Man's shoulder. The sheer physical density behind that grip was absolute. Peter didn't even bother trying to wrench himself away; his spider-sense didn't spark an alarm, but his brain instantly did the math.
He was pinned by a guy who accidentally caught falling helicopters.
"Whoa, okay!" Spider-Man chirped, his voice instantly spiking into a defensive, high-pitched MCU-grade ramble as he slowly raised his hands. He didn't turn around to look at the Man of Steel just yet. "Is this an intervention? Because if this is about the cable management commentary I made during the fight, I stand by it. Anthony's wiring schematics were an absolute civic tragedy. If it's about the 'goober' comment, I apologize to goobers everywhere, they didn't deserve that association."
Superman didn't laugh. He didn't move his hand either. The silence behind Peter's back was thick, heavy, and radiating a massive, terrifyingly pure aura of pure, unadulterated Midwestern earnestness.
"Spider-Man," Superman said softly. "We need to talk."
Peter slowly turned his head, his white eye-lenses widening and whirring as they calibrated to the giant, caped silhouette standing over him. Oh, great, Peter thought, a cold sweat breaking out under his mask. I can't outrun him. I literally cannot outrun a super-concerned, blue-eyed alien god. He's like... he's like Cap's-
(BZZZTT!)
(What..Why did he feel a streak of severe disapproval from an adult figure who reckoned he made an innocent mistake and would like to give him reality check in an understanding and compassionate way)
Okay pivot to..
Uncle Ben moral compass,
(That's better)
Thor's physical build, and Tony's absolute refusal to mind his own business all rolled up into one terrifyingly polite package.
"Talk? Yeah, totally, I love talking, talking is my favorite thing, ask anyone—actually don't ask anyone, I don't have references here," Peter deflected frantically, his hands waving in short, nervous arcs. "But hey, the paramedics are waiting, the building is structurally compromised, and honestly, my union-mandated break was twenty minutes ago—"
"I heard what you said the other day," Superman interrupted gently, his voice cutting clean through the defensive word-vomit. He stepped closer, his blue eyes locked onto the white lenses of the mask with a depth of worry that made Peter's throat instantly go dry. "In that interview. About why you do this. About how you 'think the bad things happen because of you.'"
Peter went entirely still, the joke dying on his tongue.
"You're carrying a weight that doesn't belong to you," Superman said, his tone dripping with the kind of intense, raw sincerity that defined Clark Kent. It wasn't a lecture. It was a plea. "You're running yourself into the ground, and you're treating your own life like it's a disposable shield." His eyes glistened with wetness, pleading "You can't keep doing this alone."
Peter's chest tightened, a familiar, suffocating wall of trauma instantly slamming down around his thoughts. It's just math, his brain screamed defensively. If you don't help, people die. I have to carry it. I'm a ghost.
"Aŭskultu vian fraton"
(Listen to your..)
Before Peter could scramble for another deflection, the heavy metal doors at the far end of the mezzanine burst open. Lois Lane ran out into the smoking pavilion, her camera slung over her shoulder, her face pale and streaked with soot as her eyes frantically scanned the wreckage.
"Superman! Spider-Man!" Lois called out, rushing toward them. She stopped a few paces back, her breath hitching as she looked at them, then looked desperately toward the empty corridors. "Have you... have you seen my friends? Clark Kent and Peter Parker? They were on this level, they were right behind me, and I can't find them—"
Superman didn't flinch. He kept his massive, heavy hand firmly planted on Spider-Man's shoulder, anchoring the teenager to the spot, but he turned his head to offer Lois a warm, incredibly steady smile.
"They're okay, Lois," Superman promised, his voice carrying clearly across the ruined hall, instantly settling her frantic pulse. "Clark and Peter are completely safe. They've already made it down to the lower evacuation sector."
Lois let out a massive, trembling sigh of relief, her shoulders visibly dropping. "Thank God..."
"In fact," Superman continued, his grip tightening just a fraction on Peter's shoulder—not to hurt, but to deliver a profound, unspoken message directly to his roommate. He looked down at the red-and-blue hero, his eyes shining with a deep, protective promise. "Spider-Man was actually just about to head down there to find Peter himself. He's going to make sure to let him know that he has people waiting for him. People who care about him. Who wants him safe... and wants him home."
Lois looked between the two heroes, her investigative eyes softening into something deeply emotional as she caught the weight of Superman's words. "Tell him... tell him his seonbae is waiting for him downstairs." Her eyes narrowed and Spider-Man felt terrified "And he's not allowed to skip out on dinner." She said the last words of grave promise.
Spider-Man…didn't know why his shoulders weren't tense anymore.
Why was it so…
Peaceful…
(He felt a hand caress his cheek.)
He choked back something in his throat.
The nervous energy evaporated.
The Web-Slingers shoulders slumped, the heavy armor of his grief finally cracking open. He let out a long, shaky breath, his white eye-lenses widening into a soft, vulnerable expression.
"Okay," Peter said softly.
_
The paper cups of lukewarm convenience-store coffee did very little to cut the freezing chill of the Metropolis night. The three of them sat on the concrete steps just outside the police perimeter of the ruined AmazoTech tower, the distant red and blue strobe lights painting their faces in rhythmic flashes.
Almost maudlin familiarity to a certain web-slinger.
Before they had even made it to the street, the three of them had sneaked back into the hidden lab to secure the evidence—only to find the tables completely barren. Every single piece of the weaponized, glowing purple hardware had been entirely liquidated.
But while Clark was reeling from the theft, Peter sat silently sipping his coffee, his mind unusually calm. He had side-eyed the tracker underneath his coat, the 3D data screen acting as a sonar map of the entire state area. The cloud of what he configured as sparkling blue was situated very close.
Right here in Metropolis.
He had fried the data so they couldn't use it, and he had planted a beacon right on them.
And he would come for them.
(A gentle hand on his shoulder tightened in warning and apprehension but full of compassionate concern)
A soft approving melody of harmony in his chest..
"Heck of a night huh?" Peter said, hoping to break the ice.
Which Lois decided to FINISH HIM! As said by the great Shao Khan by obliterating ice by forcefully wrapping both of her arms around the 17 year old's neck, pulling him into an extremely tight, breathless hug that nearly compressed his enhanced ribs.
"Gah—Lois—oxygen deprivation, a classic tort liability!" Peter wheezed, his natural charming defensive humor immediately kicking into overdrive as he tried to break the heavy emotional tension. He patted her back awkwardly with his free hand. "I promise my lungs are fully compliant with city zoning laws, you don't need to stress-test them!" He chuffed out.
Lois pulled back, her eyes fiercely bright as she smacked his shoulder. "Shut up, Parker. You're alive. Clark's alive. That's the only headline I care about right now."
Before they could sink back into the quiet gravity of the stairwell conversation, the sharp click of designer heels echoed on the pavement. Cat Grant stepped into the light of the streetlamp, looking remarkably pristine despite the smoke, a predatory but thoroughly satisfied smile on her face.
"Well, well, well," Cat purred, adjusting her coat as she looked down at her three interns. "I must say, congratulations to the three of you. Tonight was an absolute, glorious goldmine. Between the public SEC audit and a literal billionaire mech-suit meltdown, the Daily Planet is going to own the front page for a week. Enjoy your little coffee break. Tomorrow, you're all on my clock."
With a sharp turn, Cat vanished into the crowd of reporters, leaving the three of them alone once more. Clark stared down at his paper cup, his brow furrowed as his earnest, superhero nature completely took over, his posture shifting back into the deep, heavy worry he had carried on the mezzanine.
"The proof's all there," Clark muttered, his voice dropping to a sharp, intense whisper so only the three of them could hear. "The stolen tech, which Ivo could only have gotten from his criminal connections. Once we get the photos, we'll have our story." He shook his head, looking utterly baffled while Lois smiled and edged closer. "I just can't believe it all disappeared. Someone must have taken it during the fight. But who? Lois, Peter... I have to figure this out. Too many people are getting hurt." Then Lois reached up and kissed him on the cheek
Peter took a sip silently, watching intently like it was Prime Time Tv.
"It's cute seeing you obsess over a story," Lois murmured softly.
Clark blinked, his cheeks instantly turning a brilliant shade of crimson as he cleared his throat nervously, adjusting his glasses. He looked down at his oversized tweed coat, his fingers tracing the loose stitching Lois had ironed earlier.
"You know..." Clark stammered, his bumbling, small-town charm returning in an instant as he looked at her. "When I was getting ready tonight... I kept wondering if this counted as a date."
A sudden, chilly gust of wind swept down the avenue, causing Lois to shiver slightly in her backless strap. Clark Kent put his jacket over her. She looked up at him through her bangs, her eyes full of brilliant, unmatched confidence.
"And what did you decide?" Lois challenged softly, her voice dripping with romantic gravity. "Walk me back, Smallville."
Peter looked between the two of them, letting out a soft, shakespearean sigh as he dramatically slid down the concrete step to give them space. "And that is my cue to legally recuse myself from this immediate vicinity before I become a permanent third-wheel liability. See you guys at the apartment." He turned back with a look "Don't lock me out." He walked with his hands in pocket and immediately skirted around to avoid the blond teenage girl in the pink dress who had stars in her eyes at the gala.
"...I can see why you call him 'Playboy'" Clark Kent spoke in wonder.
Lois patted his arm "Was never wrong Kent"
_
In the quiet, dusty, subterranean chill of the Daily Planet archive room
The "journalism morgue" where the three of them had started their internships.
Surrounded by stacks of yellowed newsprint, microfilm reels, and her own frantic shorthand notes, the soft tapping of the keypad where the words appeared on the holographic 3D screen.
"An exclusive on the collapse of Amazo Tek is" She moved the cursor and pressed on her keyboard. "Sent" She closed her eyes and leaned back, still wearing Clarks jacket as the screen disappeared. She put it into her yellow backpack and moved to leave.
Then, her eyes snagged on the messy corkboard in the corner.
Nestled right beside the chaotic web of her current Metropolis research was a half-forgotten stack of old, dust-coated printouts. It was Flamebird research that was requested from Jimmy and she dismissed it at the time it arrived because it…was too soon after mulling over those words…
She walked over and pulled the top folder down, flipping through the crinkled pages. Lois blinked and looked closely at the paper headline.
"Oh, I forgot this." She picked up and opened one, scrolling through one alien magazine with a stick it note: Most Viable.
She chuckled slightly, and decided to take a look out of curiosity.
Loch Ness (why is nessie in America), Mystery of McDougal Lands(shouldn't that fall under mysticism?) and Smallville.
Smallville: Flying Boy of Kansas
She read. Looked through the other covers and brands, driven by an insane inquisitive urge. She ripped out the papers, got pins and stuck them to Murder Board.
Now
Daily Planet: Superman
4 Years Ago
Angel Saves Professor
To the right side corner
10 Years Ago
Miracles in the Heartland.
Her mind goes through things.
The First time she met Clark…
The way he catched her outside of that Gym.
The Dockbattle of A disguised flying man holding back a mech.
Superman holds the bus in the air, protecting them with his smile.
Her eyes widened and she turned her head slightly.
"No.."
Clark Kent on the bench, chatting. Superman on Daily Planet smiling. Both sun rays illuminated their silhouettes and visages. An overlay of the beautiful dichotomy of man.
"Maybe he's a nice guy who has powers and just wants to use them to help,"
"Clark Kent..is Superman.."
Her voice was shocked. Her face a heated frown until..something clicks into place. For she realised she still had the file in her hand.
She looked down as her fingers brushed against a completely separate manila envelope hidden beneath the cryptid files. Written across the front in her own bold sharpie was: PROJECT: NEIGHBOUR.
Lois softened. This marvelous collection of paper. This anagram of photography, reward citations, sketches, kids drawings, this wonderful tapestry of a Metropolis boy.
A three person group project of interviews, collections, eyewitness statements and standing ovations from a homeless man and his pigeons.
This beautifully curated journalistic record of Peter Parker's life.
She sat at the table again, opening the file where honorifics she'd scribbled on the side of his onboarding itinerary. My hoobae.
She began turning the pages, each one a monument.
Clogged sinks fixed, groceries carried, kids comforted.
Peter, laughing with a face split by an exhausting bruise, holding up one end of a broken fire escape while an elderly lady crawled to safety. Peter, soaking wet in his civilian clothes, flashing a peace sign with a group of local kids after diving into a flooded storm drain to rescue a stray dog.
Written transcripts from local shopkeepers and shelter coordinators detailing Peter's everyday heroism. "Peter Parker never asked for a cent," one read. "He just showed up when the block was freezing, fixed our radiator pipe with his bare hands, and left."
A crinkled piece of construction paper, drawn in messy crayon, showing a figure in faded gray shading with black words labeled 'Midtown' shirt holding hands with a little boy. Scribbled at the bottom in a kid's handwriting was: Thank you, Mr. Parker
A heartwarming interview log from a local eccentric the neighborhood called the "Pigeon Man." The old man had given Peter Parker a literal standing ovation on a rooftop(much to Peter's shocked embarrassment), surrounded by his swirling flock of birds, because of how her Hoobae treated him. The notes detailed how Peter Parker would regularly sit down on the dirty curb with the forgotten man, quietly sharing a plain sandwich and splitting whatever spare quarters he had left in his pockets just to keep him company.
Lois's heart swelled.
"Clark, if you or Peter had powers, you'd do that."
She turned the page.
Then…it felt like the beginning of rain…
A cold, tightening knot of dread as Lois reached the bottom of the file.
Official commendations from Metropolis precincts, local bravery awards, and community service plaques addressed to Peter. Every single one of them was marked Returned to Sender or Recipient Absent. It was like no problem, no need to make a spectacle out of it.
I'm fine..
A copy of Peter's official Metropolis Welfare and Social Services record. Year after year, the clinical casework notes tracked a lonely child. "Exhibits a concerning, hyper-fixated drive to practice self-emancipation from the system," the text read. Lois stared at legal petitions a teenage Peter had filed himself—using every academic loophole and grueling night class to graduate early, just so he could stop being a financial burden on the state.
Her eyes looked over the full report Jimmy had gotten out. How and why she will ask later.
METROPOLIS DEPARTMENT OF SOCIAL SERVICES
Case File: #449-PARKER-P
Subject: Parker, Peter
DOB: [REDACTED]
Status: Unattached Minor / State Ward (No Verifiable Next-of-Kin)
Document: Psychosocial Progress & Independent Living Assessment
CASEWORKER EVALUATION NOTES (Excerpts):
Behavioral Observations: Subject consistently presents as highly cooperative, overly polite, and compliant with institutional authority. However, staff note a persistent pattern of emotional detachment and social insulation. Subject actively deflects interpersonal connection with foster peers, demonstrating a marked preference for isolation.
Hyper-Independence & Self-Emancipation: Subject exhibits a concerning, fixated drive toward premature self-sufficiency. At age 14, Subject initiated a self-directed academic acceleration plan, successfully testing out of standard grade levels to force early graduation. Subject has flatly refused all institutional assistance regarding genealogical tracing or kinship placement, stating explicitly during review: "I don't have anyone. Please don't look."
Financial Rigidity: Caseworkers express ongoing concern regarding Subject's refusal to accept baseline discretionary stipends or state-sponsored youth allowances. Subject routinely returns or redirects material aid to communal resources. Conversely, community observation logs note the Subject voluntarily allocating his own limited personal resources (splitting meals, distributing loose coinage) to high-risk vagrant populations (ref: Case Log 12-B: 'The Pigeon Man'), while strictly rejecting reciprocal aid.
Clinical Impression: Subject's hyper-independence is not a sign of healthy maturity, but rather a defensive coping mechanism. The subject appears to harbor a deep-seated belief that he is fundamentally ineligible for care, viewing external support as an unacceptable burden on others. Recommendation: Deny immediate independent living status until Subject undergoes evaluation for acute psychological burnout and internalized isolation. (Appealed by Subject; Approved early via academic exemption).
Her nails were tightening into her fist so hard they were just the tip of drawing blood.
"pathological independence," "defensive coping mechanism," "ineligible for care"
The final piece slammed into place: his original Daily Planet onboarding ID photo.
There he was in the cheap, glossy print—a smiling Peter Parker. But as Lois leaned in closer under the dim fluorescent light of the morgue, the vibrant friendly Neighbour was nowhere to be found. The paper was creased and weathered at the corners, the laminate gloss webbed with tiny, physical cracks that ran right across Peter's eyes.
It looked exactly like his reality. A fragile, cheerful mask taped over a deeply fractured soul.
Lois stared at the cracked photo, the heavy silence of the file room rushing back to hit her like a physical blow.
"I'm sure he's waiting for the right time... ready to talk when Spider-Man is ready"
Lois Lane closed her eyes, she refused to cry. She took out a photo of Spiderman. A clear hi cut resolution bordering on flawless. From an angle impossible to do in a quarantined zone of Ice Exploding Unknown Tech Device. His back to her, a crouch, strength churning to carry the world like Atlas.
"Peter Parker…Is…"
Alone. Choosing Loneliness.
Her mouth twisted and let out grief.
"Spiderman"
_
Authors Note: Yeah I might've gone overboard. How did adapting a 22 minute anime episode became this Moby Dick of a Chapter! So yeah the whole wholesome universe is trying to aggressively help Peter Parker. I will take a break from writing this for a while. Catharsis on doing it.