(Ash's POV)
The next morning, Midtown doesn't feel sharp.
It feels wrong.
Not in a dramatic, explosions-in-the-distance way. Not even in a "my morpher is vibrating out of my backpack" way.
It's quieter.
Too quiet.
Students still talk, lockers still slam, someone still complains about being late because their alarm "literally sabotaged them," but under it all is this strange… pressure.
Like the air is waiting for something to break.
I feel it the moment I step through the front doors.
The morpher gives a faint pulse—barely there, like a tap instead of a heartbeat. But it's enough to make me take a second look at the hallway.
Same posters. Same lockers. Same faces.
But—
Peter's tense.
Not obviously. Not in a way anyone else would see. But I notice it right away.
His shoulders are tighter. His eyes keep flicking toward the ceiling, the exits, the corners of the hallway. Like he's expecting something to drop on him from above.
And every time he moves even a little closer to me—
Pulse.
The morpher nudges against my side.
Soft.
Certain.
Like it's saying, Pay attention.
I wish I knew what it meant. Is it reacting to Peter? Or something around him? Or something coming for him?
I don't know.
And I hate not knowing.
Jake jogs up, totally oblivious. "Morning, losers. Who's ready to fail a pop quiz in first period?"
Noah sighs. "You fail everything except lunch."
Jake points dramatically. "It's called consistency, Noah."
Peter laughs, but it's tight. Strained.
I walk beside him, pretending to be normal, pretending I'm not analyzing every inch of the school like I'm on patrol.
We reach our lockers.
And that's when it happens.
A shadow moves on the ceiling.
Not a big one. Not a monster. Nothing supernatural.
A person.
Crawling.
My heart jumps into my throat—
—but the shadow slips away before anyone else notices.
I blink hard.
Did I… imagine that?
Peter stiffens beside me.
Okay. Not imagined.
He saw it too.
The morpher pulses again—but not toward Peter this time.
It's aiming at the ceiling.
At the vent system.
At something up there.
But I don't look.
I don't want to look like the weird new kid staring at ventilation.
So I keep my voice calm. "Anyone else notice something… I don't know… strange?"
Jake: "Yeah. Noah's wearing matching socks today."
Noah: "I always wear matching socks."
Jake: "Exactly. Strange."
Peter forces a laugh, but when he glances at me, I see something behind his eyes.
Fear?
Nerves?
Guilt?
…All three?
The bell rings, snapping the moment.
We head to class, but the feeling doesn't fade.
If anything, it gets stronger.
Students whispering more than usual.
Teachers checking hallways twice.
A janitor who keeps staring at the vents like he expects them to explode.
And outside…
Another black SUV.
Different from yesterday's.
Engine running this time.
Two people inside, pretending not to watch the school.
But they are.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
It has to be.
Or someone worse.
The morpher hums—slow, steady, patient.
Not warning me.
Preparing me.
Like it knows we're standing at the edge of something.
Something big.
Something that starts today.
We file into class, but my eyes drift to Peter again.
He's gripping his pencil too tight.
He keeps staring at the window.
And twice—just twice—I catch him listening to something no one else can hear.
A dull thud.
A faint clang.
Something skittering in the vents again.
And every time—
Pulse.
The morpher responds instantly.
I'm not sure what's happening.
But I know this much:
Today isn't normal.
Something is stalking Midtown.
And Peter Parker is right in the middle of it.
I sit in my chair, heart pounding quietly.
No morphing.
No fighting.
Not yet.
But for the first time…
I feel the story beginning.
Not my Ranger story.
His.
And I don't know whether I'm supposed to watch…
…or step in.