Work Text
Peter didn’t change into his suit after school. He didn’t get a ride from Happy to meet with Mr. Stark. He didn’t swing back to his apartment or climb up to get in through his window. He took the subway, went to his room, and started his homework. Peter wasn’t Spider-Man, he was just a high schooler.A high schooler who could hear the family across the street watching the news from the desk in his bedroom. A high schooler who, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his trigonometry homework, just couldn’t seem to ignore what the news was saying about him.
“With the Sokovia Accords amended, many heroes have been faced with the difficult decision of whether or not to come forward in order to go through with the Liberty Approval Process required of them now.”
That was a lie. Peter had to make that decision months ago. He still remembers getting home from school the day the U.N. announced that they were considering the amendment written by Secretary Ross. He remembers sitting at the table with May, who was making arancini for dinner, as Karen read the amendment out loud to them. He remembers May setting the table on her own while he listened, putting a plate of food down in front of him, and looking at him with barely concealed concern. He remembers the entire conversation. They made the decision together that night, when the reality of it all came crashing down on them.
“While officials are simply reaching out to most enhanced individuals, they have yet to identify the whereabouts of many others or who is behind the mask of Queens’ beloved Spider-Man.”
A) What is the value of tan A in right triangle ABC below?
“Anyone with information on the subject is being urged to come forward as the hunt continues.”
B) What is sin²(𝜃) + 1 in simplest form?
“Spider-Man has yet to be spotted patrolling since the ratification of the amendment.”
C) Convert 375º to radians.
“With New York asking where their hero is, it’s only a matter of time before the crime rate returns to its pre-Spider-Man levels. Many citizens will stop at-”
D) If Peter Parker isn’t Spider-Man, what is he equal to?
“- nothing to get the amendment repealed, and their heroes back on the street. That’s all I have for you tonight, this is-”
“Peter?”Peter jumped and looked over at May, standing in the door of his bedroom. He hadn’t even heard her coming home. “Oh, hey. You’re back early. Half shift?”“Double,” May corrected.Peter looked at the clock. Sure enough, it was already 10 pm. “Oh.”“I made risotto. Have you eaten yet?” When Peter’s stomach growled in response, May laughed. “I’ll take that as a no. Come on.”Peter hesitantly stood from his desk and followed May into the main area, where he could see the Daily Bugle playing on the television muted with the caption “More mutants being processed at OSCORP labs” just before May turned it off.“I can’t believe the kind of stuff they’ve been putting on that channel,” May said with an eye roll. “Sit down,” she told Peter as she took a seat at the table. “Stay a while.”Peter grabbed a plate of risotto and sat down at the table with Aunt May, his mind still racing. “Thanks, May,” he said as he moved the food around on his plate with a spoon.May smiled. “So, how was Aca Deca?”Peter shrugged. “It was good. We didn’t really get much practice in.”“Oh?”“It was more of a… socratic circle meeting.”“What about?”“You know. Me.”May nodded in understanding.“How was work?”May sighed. “It was okay. Really busy, though. There’s been lots of fighting lately.”Peter wasn’t sure if she meant the patients were coming in because of fight-related injuries or if she and her colleagues had been fighting. He wasn’t sure which was more worrying.The rest of the meal was silent until they finished, and May agreed to wash Peter’s plate for him so he could get some sleep. It didn’t do much to help though. Peter spent hours tossing and turning, putting a pillow over his head to try and block out the sound of the Daily Bugle coming from somewhere in the run down apartment building. Eventually, he sat up and looked at his alarm clock.
3:26
He couldn’t take it anymore. Peter looked at the corner of his closet where his suit was crumpled up on the ground. A few hours couldn’t hurt, right? He quickly changed into it and snapped the web shooters onto his wrists before listening for the tell-tale sound of Aunt May’s soft snoring to make sure he was asleep before he slid the window open and climbed out.As he swung through the busy streets of Queens, Peter felt all of the nervous energy that had been building up inside of him dissipate. He felt at home among the rooftops and fifth story windows on either side of him. It had only been a day since his last patrol, but knowing he was no longer allowed to go out made it feel like years. For all he knew, it could have ended up being that long.After webbing up a few muggers and thieves, Peter came to rest on a rooftop. He looked out at the city below. There were flags with his face on them hung next door to Sokovian flags. People stopping to help a new mother carry her groceries across the street from people arguing and yelling. How did the world come to be so divided? How did he become both a hero and a menace? He’d blame Mr. Stark, but he knew it wasn’t his fault. Mr. Stark never wanted this. Peter felt as though he was almost as much to blame as his mentor; it wasn’t as though he played no part in the war between Avengers where all of this really started. His friends said it was at the festival, but Peter had seen what happened to the Avengers. He knew the truth. He knew that, if you dove deep enough under the surface of public appeal the Avengers had, the heroes of this world were to blame for their own downfall. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a familiar yet unrecognizable voice echoed.
The only thing they love more than a hero is to see a hero fail, fall, die trying.
That wasn’t all there was to it, though. Peter looked out at the city, full of both lights and shadows, and remembered the hashtags trending on social media. He remembered those five protesters his friends liked to blame. Even before that, he remembered the Daily Bugle, at the time considered a small extremist channel, calling him a masked menace when he first appeared on the scene as a fourteen year old kid who prevented a deadly crash.
In spite of everything you’ve done for them, eventually, they will hate you.
Peter stood up when he heard sirens in the distance. He fired a web when he saw searchlights shining from the sky a few blocks down. He swung over the crowd pointing him out with a terrifying combination of excited cheers and angry name calling. He ducked into an ally as the fighting broke out. He snuck back into his room before the riots began. He fell asleep to the sounds of shattered glass and gunshots. When the news started up again in the apartment next door, and across the street, and somewhere in the run down apartment building, he didn’t wake up to listen.