Monday was the 31st — Halloween. To me it was just another day. I walked downstairs for breakfast and was surprised to find Ben and May already dressed up. May had on the giant Minnie Mouse ears Peter had bought her at Disney World, and Ben was wearing a fake oversized beard with a pair of comedy glasses mounted with a big plastic nose.
I stared at them.
"So... we're in the holiday spirit, are we?"
"Peter! Why aren't you dressed up?" May beamed. "It's Halloween, young man!"
"Aunt May, aren't I getting a little old for this?" I asked as I sat down.
"One is never too old to act their age, my son," Ben said in a deep, theatrical voice.
I raised an eyebrow. "Gandalf?"
"No — just a smart-ass," Ben grinned.
"Seriously though, Peter, you used to love dressing up for Halloween!" May insisted.
"Yeah, but... I don't even have a costume."
"Since when has that ever stopped you?" Ben laughed. "I'm sure you can throw something together — just use your imagination."
I shrugged. Sure. I could do that. Or...
I walked into school and heads turned. I strolled down the hall with a swagger, grinning under my mask as I watched the reaction ripple outward from me. I was in costume alright — my costume.
"Spider-Man?!" Flash — dressed in his own homemade Spider-Man outfit — gasped as I walked past.
"Not quite," I chuckled, pulling the mask off to reveal my grinning face to a deeply disappointed Flash. "Like it? Made it myself."
"You don't deserve to wear that costume," Flash growled.
"Like I care what you think," I said, walking past him.
"Spider-Man is a hero, Parker! He's brave and incredible — everything you aren't and never will be!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Damn, Flash. Since when did you start liking Spider-Man?"
"Since always," he snarled as a small crowd began to form around us. "He saved a friend of mine from getting mugged. There was a gang in my neighbourhood hurting people — he stopped them. He's a real hero, Parker. You aren't."
I paused. Flash lived in the bad part of town? I never would have guessed. "You know, Flash, for someone who admires a hero who's against bullying, you do a pretty impressive job of being one yourself. Tell me — do you honestly think Spider-Man would be proud to have someone like you flying his flag?"
Flash went bright red. "S-shut up, Parker! You don't know anything!"
"Maybe. But at least I'm honest with myself." I walked away, leaving him fuming behind me.
School was more interesting than usual with everyone in costume. I passed a chemistry teacher dressed as a water molecule — genuinely funny and creative. Some kid had come as a banana, and another had dressed as a monkey; the moment they spotted each other they both burst into grins before the monkey started chasing the banana through the hallways.
First period was history, which I shared with the others. Liz had come as an angel, complete with white wings and a silver halo. MJ had clearly coordinated with her — she wore a devil costume with a little red tail and horns. Harry had gone full eighties biker gang member.
They all noticed me and did a collective double-take.
Harry looked me over. "Woah. That's a seriously cool costume. Who is it?"
"Parker," Flash muttered from across the room.
I pulled off the mask and waved. "Morning, everyone. Nice costume, Liz — opposite day suits you."
"Shut it, wimp," Liz shot back.
"You look good, Peter," MJ said quietly. She was blushing faintly. Why was she blushing?
"Thanks, MJ. You make a terrifying devil," I winked as I took my seat. MJ's blush deepened to match her hair before she forcibly composed herself and went back to listening to her friends complain about me.
Felicia walked in a moment later. She took one look at me, stopped in the doorway, blinked twice, and then walked over and sat down beside me.
"No costume?" I asked.
"I'm too old to play dress-up," she replied.
"That's interesting, coming from someone who went on at length about choosing to be someone different in life."
She smirked. "Muscles, Felicia Hardy is my costume." She looked me over. "Nice work. Did you make it yourself?"
"Yup. I tried to match the original as closely as I could."
"Why Spider-Man specifically?"
"Why? Don't you like him?"
"He occupies... a special place in my heart," she said, shrugging lightly.
"You really should have dressed up, Felicia," Harry said, leaning in from the seat behind her. "Actually — you'd be perfect as the Black Cat!"
That caught both our attention. Felicia looked momentarily startled, so I asked for her: "The Black Cat? Who's that?"
"She's this high-end thief!" Harry said, lighting up. "She steals from the rich and stuff!"
"And she wears this tight little outfit to distract whoever's chasing her," Flash added with a leer that Liz caught and punished with a sharp smack to the back of his head.
"Yeah, and her hair's silver — you'd be perfect for it, Felicia!" Harry grinned at her.
"Sounds ridiculous," Felicia said flatly, ending the conversation. She turned back to me. "Why don't you take the jacket off? It's warm in here."
She was right — the school's heating was running full blast. I shrugged, unzipped the jacket, and draped it over the armrest.
Silence spread through the classroom.
I looked around, genuinely confused. Then I looked down. Was there something on my shirt?
"That's why I call him Muscles," Felicia announced to the room.
I looked at her. She was watching me with a thoroughly satisfied smirk, letting her gaze do precisely what she clearly intended. Well. At least that confirmed she wasn't entirely uninterested in men.
Right — the muscle shirt. I usually wore one under the jacket out of habit. Months of wall-crawling, web-swinging, and nightly patrol had done things to Peter's already athletic frame that a simple baggy hoodie could apparently no longer contain.
"You really shouldn't hide that body under bulky clothes, Muscles," Felicia said, her expression unrepentant. "It's a crime against humanity."
"I'll say," Zack — one of the few openly gay students in the year — whistled appreciatively.
I felt my face go red, which was mortifying. I shot a glare at Felicia, who simply laughed. She didn't even try to look apologetic.
For the rest of the day I was stared at constantly. Mostly by girls, though a few guys joined in. MJ seemed unbothered — she'd seen me shirtless before — but Liz looked like I'd personally upended her entire worldview.
Needless to say, I couldn't wait for the school day to end.
Felicia, MJ, and I went to the usual coffee shop for our after-school study session. I had my jacket back on, and Felicia let out a theatrical sigh the moment we sat down.
"What?" I asked.
"Just mourning the loss of my one source of visual entertainment," she said. "That jacket deserves to be burned."
"I hate you," I told her.
"No you don't."
"She does have a point, Peter," MJ said with a shrug. "You've got a good physique. There's nothing wrong with showing it off a little."
"Red's right," Felicia agreed. "Although I'm curious — why weren't you surprised when the ugly duckling turned out to be hiding muscles?"
MJ stammered. "N-no particular reason."
I laughed. "Because she already had a preview."
"That was over a month ago!" MJ protested.
"Does that mean you want another look, Peepers?" I asked, thoroughly enjoying myself.
Instead of getting flustered, MJ gave a slow, dangerous smile. "I wouldn't say no."
"Tiger?" Felicia tilted her head at the nickname, and then a slow smile spread across her face. "Oh, I like that. Tiger." She rolled the R deliberately.
I raised an eyebrow. "You want a look too?"
She shrugged. "I wouldn't mind."
"I am not that kind of person, ladies," I said with great dignity. "If you want any of this, you'll need to wine and dine me properly."
"So all it takes to make you put out is dinner?" Felicia raised an eyebrow.
"Ah... I plead the fifth?"
MJ smirked. "Deal."
I blinked. "Sorry?"
"A date. Right now," she said, closing her books and packing them into her bag. "I'm not in the mood to study. Lunch and then a film. What do you say?"
I hadn't even opened my mouth when Felicia spoke.
"So you're just going to ditch me and go off on your own?"
"Are you... coming?" MJ asked, surprised.
"You know what? Yes, I am." Felicia smiled. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."
"I—" I gaped. "Do I get any say in this?!"
"No," Felicia smirked. "Now pack up, Tiger. I'm in the mood for Italian."
"There's a place down the road — best pasta I've ever had," MJ said, grabbing my bag and following Felicia out the door.
I got dragged along behind them. I was either the luckiest person in the world, or the unluckiest. The verdict was still out.
We took a table for three by the window. I winced briefly at the menu prices — I hadn't received my first pay from the FF yet and needed to be careful — but I supposed an outing with two beautiful women counted as a reasonable expense.
Orders placed, I leaned back in my chair. "So what made you actually want to go out today?"
"I just felt like it," MJ shrugged. "Plus you said no free peeks without a proper date — so here we are."
"You know, you're completely different when you're not with your usual crowd," Felicia observed.
MJ blinked. "What do you mean?"
"You're not a stuck-up diva."
"I... suppose that's fair," MJ said, looking unsure of how to take that.
"She's always been like this," I told Felicia. "It's only around those particular people that she acts differently."
"Peter, that's rude," MJ frowned.
"Is it inaccurate?"
She sighed. "No. You're right about Harry especially — he does expect a lot of people around him."
"So true," I agreed. "Be careful with that."
"Oh, all this teenage drama," Felicia said, propping her chin in her hand with a long-suffering expression. "I'm so glad to be included."
"Tell us something about yourself, then," I said. "I realise I actually know almost nothing about you."
She raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Milk chocolate or dark?"
"Milk."
"Pepsi or Coke?"
"Coke."
"Scooby or Shaggy?"
"...Who?"
"From Scooby-Doo. The cartoon."
"I don't watch children's shows."
"What did you watch as a kid, then?" MJ asked, curious.
"Things."
"Such as?"
"Gymnastics, mostly. I did gymnastics."
"Really?" MJ sat up straighter.
"She does have the build for it," I said. MJ glared at me. Felicia just smiled.
"My, my — aren't we bold today, Tiger," Felicia said. "Didn't I tell you to stop staring?"
"I'll stop when you stop doing the same," I said.
"You're both impossible," MJ muttered.
"Aw, is the little redhead feeling left out?" Felicia teased. "Don't worry — I'm sure we'll get to you eventually."
"I hate you," MJ said.
"No you don't," Felicia sang, and quietly — very briefly — let her gaze drift to MJ's general direction in a way that suggested she found the redhead interesting for reasons that had nothing to do with arguing with her.
MJ didn't notice. I did.
It was the strangest lunch date I had ever been on, and the first that Peter Parker had ever been on in any meaningful sense. It wasn't really a date — more of an excuse to spend time together. Felicia kept finding opportunities to needle MJ and me, and we spent most of it trying — and failing — to catch her off guard. The woman was impossible to rattle.
By the time we finished eating and split the bill, I checked my watch and felt my stomach drop.
"Have somewhere to be, Tiger?" Felicia asked, watching me.
"My self-defence class is starting soon," I said.
"You're seriously leaving two beautiful women to go to self-defence class?" Felicia raised an eyebrow.
"My sensei's strict about punctuality. I can't risk it," I lied smoothly.
"Well... okay," MJ said, clearly not feeling like arguing.
"You do realise what you're doing, right?" Felicia said.
"I feel genuinely terrible about it," I told her, already backing away. "I'll make it up to both of you — I promise!"
"Bite me, Parker!"
"Sure! Whatever you want!" I called back, grinning as I rounded the corner and broke into a run.
Once I was a safe distance away and certain neither of them could see me, I ducked into a nearby alley and pulled out my mask. One great thing about Halloween? I was already halfway dressed.
I put on the mask and web-shooters and webbed my school bag to the wall out of sight. Then I scaled the side of the building and leapt off the top, swinging toward the highway.
I spotted the truck quickly — a sixteen-wheeled lorry barrelling toward a tunnel, four police cruisers screaming after it. I swung to the far side and dropped onto it the moment it came within range, clinging to the side and fighting to hold on as the sheer speed of the vehicle tried to tear me loose.
'What on earth is in this thing?' I pressed myself flat against the trailer and started crawling. I heard the police sirens closing behind us — and then ahead of us, a sharp horn blast. I snapped my gaze forward just in time to see the truck clip a car and send it spinning off the road.
My eyes went wide. I didn't look back. I needed to stop this now.
I crawled to the driver's door and looked through the window. The driver was clutching his side as blood seeped through his fingers.
I knocked on the door. He turned toward the sound — and I threw a punch through the glass, catching him hard across the jaw. His hands fell from the wheel. I reached through the broken window, grabbed the steering column with one hand, and shoved the driver clear with the other. I pulled myself through and planted my foot on the brake, bringing the truck to a grinding, shuddering halt in the middle of the highway.
I set the handbrake, pulled the keys from the ignition, and snapped them in half for good measure. Then I hauled the unconscious driver over my shoulder and stepped out.
The pursuing police cruisers had stopped a short distance back. Officers piled out, drew their weapons, and levelled them at me.
"Don't move! Hands where we can see them!"
"Easy," I said. "I'm on your side. This is your driver — he's losing blood. He needs an ambulance."
The officers hesitated. Then a man stepped forward — mid-forties, short blond hair going grey at the temples, a calm, authoritative presence that separated him from the others immediately.
"Stand down," he ordered. The officers' weapons dipped, slowly and reluctantly. He looked at me. "Thank you. I'm Captain Stacy."
I paused.
Stacy. As in Gwen Stacy's father.
Of course. I shouldn't have been surprised. But if he was here, then where was—
Later. I'd deal with that later.
"This man needs help quickly," I told him.
"Rogers — St. Matthews is two blocks over. Get him there and get back here," Stacy ordered one of his men. The officer struggled briefly with the driver's considerable weight before managing to get him settled in the back of a cruiser that sped off immediately.
"What happened?" I asked, turning to Stacy. "Where was the truck stolen from?"
"I don't have to tell you that," he said. "I appreciate what you did, but this is a police matter. You don't have jurisdiction here."
"Right..." I hesitated, then shrugged. "Well. If you ever need me — shine a spider in the sky or something."
I turned to leave.
And then the truck began to shake.