Chapter Text
S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier
BGM: Marvel: Ultimate Alliance OST - Menu
High above the shimmering skyline of New York City, the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier cut through the clouds like a steel leviathan. Its massive engines hummed low, the kind of sound that could be felt more than heard. Inside, agents hurried through gleaming corridors lined with glass panels and digital interfaces, all moving with purpose.
Among them, one figure looked distinctly out of place—and he knew it.
Spider-Man walked down the metallic hallway, his mask pulled up halfway so he could mutter to himself, his boots echoing lightly against the deck.
“Okay, Peter… Nick Fury calls, says he wants to ‘discuss something important.’ Totally fine. Definitely not intimidating. Maybe it’s a new suit. Maybe it’s another lecture about ‘discipline’ or ‘protocol.’ Or maybe,” he whispered dramatically, “he finally realized how amazing I really am.”
A few passing agents gave him curious glances, which he pretended not to notice.
He stopped at a door marked MISSION CONTROL – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY, and the doors slid open with a hydraulic hiss.
There, standing in front of a panoramic window overlooking the city below, was Nick Fury himself—hands clasped behind his back, trench coat hanging like a shadow.
“Nice view,” Peter said as he stepped inside.
Without turning around, Fury said evenly, “You’re late.”
Peter froze mid-step. “Wow, I didn’t even say anything sarcastic yet. You really do have a sixth sense.”
Fury finally turned to face him, his one good eye cool and unreadable.
“Parker.”
“Fury.”
Then, Peter gave an exaggerated salute. “Reporting for duty, sir! Webs polished, quips ready for action.”
Fury sighed, the kind of sigh that sounded like it had been building up for a long time. “You never make this easy.”
“Not part of my brand.” Peter grinned behind the mask. “So, what’s the big secret meeting about? Because this is usually my pizza time. And you know how sacred pizza time is.”
Fury didn’t even blink. “I want to talk to you about joining the Avengers.”
Peter’s head tilted. His eyes widened behind the lenses. “Wait. Wait-wait-wait. Like officially joining? With ID cards and everything? You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Fury replied.
Peter rubbed his hands together, his grin stretching wider. “Finally! Took you long enough to see my brilliance. I mean, I already bring the style, the brains, the—”
“Hold it.” Fury raised a gloved hand.
Peter froze. “…there’s a catch, isn’t there?”
“There’s always a catch.” Fury turned back toward the glass. “Before you join, you’ve got to prove you can handle leadership—responsibility on a larger scale. A mission.”
Peter slouched slightly. “Of course. Nothing ever comes easy. What’s next, you want me to babysit Deadpool?”
Fury’s lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close. “You’re going to California.”
Peter blinked. “California? What’s over there? Surfboards? Heatstroke? Oh—wait, don’t tell me. You’re sending me to the West Coast Avengers, right?”
“Wrong,” Fury replied dryly.
Peter squinted. “Okay, so… not the West Coast Avengers. Then who—”
“You’ll be helping another team,” Fury interrupted. “A team that needs guidance. You’ll be leading them.”
“Leading?” Peter echoed, tilting his head. “You do remember I’m the guy who talks to himself while fighting giant robots, right? Leadership isn’t exactly in my—”
Fury turned back toward him, his tone sharp but not unkind. “You’re being sent to California to lead a group of ex-criminals who want to turn their lives around.”
Peter’s jaw dropped. “…I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I think I heard ‘lead a group of ex-criminals’ and my brain immediately rebooted.”
“That’s right.” Fury’s voice was steady, almost amused by Peter’s disbelief. “They’re under the supervision of the Superhero Dispatch Network, or SDN. We’ve been working with them for some time now. They’ve got potential, but no direction. The team’s called the Z-Team—and they need someone to steer them straight.”
Peter stared at Fury for a moment, his mask lenses narrowing. “They’re named the Z-Team? What happened to A through Y?”
Fury ignored the comment. “I’m not asking you to babysit them. I’m asking you to lead them. You’ve got experience, instincts, and more potential than you give yourself credit for.”
Peter went quiet at that, his humor fading for once. “You really think I’m leadership material?”
“I know you are,” Fury said simply. “You’ve been Spider-Man long enough to understand what responsibility really means. You’ve saved this city more times than most people know. But now it’s time to see if you can make others better—not just save them.”
Peter exhaled slowly, folding his arms. “And if I go, that means Miles is on his own for a while.”
Fury nodded. “He’ll be fine. You’ve trained him well. Besides, it’ll be good for him—and for you. He gets to prove himself as New York’s Spider-Man. You get to see what you’re capable of when you’re not swinging solo.”
Peter looked down, thinking. He could already imagine Miles swinging through the city alone, probably nervous at first… but he’d figure it out. He always did.
After a long pause, Peter looked back up at Fury. “You make a good pitch, Fury.”
“I’m not selling anything,” Fury said. “I’m giving you an opportunity.”
Peter chuckled quietly. “Same difference.”
He extended his hand. “All right, Director. I’m in.”
Fury clasped his hand firmly, giving a curt nod. “Good. I’ll let SDN know you’re coming. Pack your suit—California awaits.”
Peter grinned behind his mask. “Sunshine, palm trees, and a team of ex-criminals who probably hate my jokes. What could possibly go wrong?”
Fury gave him a dry look. “Everything, Parker. Absolutely everything.”
As Peter turned to leave, the hum of the Helicarrier filled the silence again—but beneath it, there was something else. A spark of anticipation.
Because for the first time in a long time, Spider-Man wasn’t just being called to save the day.
He was being called to lead it.
A Few Days Later…
Peter’s Apartment
Peter’s apartment was a whirlwind of activity. Suitcases were open on the couch and floor, clothes were folded (and some not so folded), and the faint hum of conversation filled the small space. It was the kind of scene that felt both chaotic and comforting—friends and family gathered to help the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man prepare for his next big leap.
MJ was the first to break the quiet bustle. She crossed her arms, leaning against the counter with her trademark smirk. “You know, Tiger, I’m actually jealous. California? Sunshine, beaches, celebrity sightings—meanwhile, I’ll be stuck here freezing my butt off in November.”
Peter chuckled, zipping up one of his suitcases. “Don’t worry, MJ. I’ll send plenty of pictures so no one feels left out. Maybe even a selfie or two with the Hollywood sign. You know, just to rub it in.”
“Very considerate of you,” MJ said dryly, though her grin didn’t fade.
From across the room, Aunt May adjusted her glasses and gave Peter that familiar, motherly look—the one that could pierce through even his strongest layer of sarcasm. “Just… be careful while you’re out there, Peter. I’ve heard things can get crazy in California.”
Peter looked up from his luggage and smiled warmly. “Come on, Aunt May. It can’t be any crazier than New York. We’ve got aliens, wizards, and guys who turn themselves into lizards for fun.”
Harry patted him on the back, laughing. “Yeah, except this time you’re leading a bunch of ex-criminals. So hey, Cali could be worse.”
That earned a round of laughter from the room. Even Peter cracked up, shaking his head.
“You guys really know how to boost a guy’s confidence,” he said, still smiling.
Gwen leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, her tone teasing but gentle. “Just make sure you come back in one piece, okay? I don’t want to have to catch a flight just to drag your butt home.”
Peter turned to her, grinning beneath the warmth in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Gwen. I’ll come back alive and well. Promise.”
But as his gaze drifted toward Miles, the mood shifted slightly. Miles stood near the window, his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, looking thoughtful—maybe even nervous. Peter caught on right away.
“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. “You good, Miles?”
Miles nodded, but it was slow and half-hearted. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… you know. Mentally preparing to be New York’s only Spider-Man for a while.”
Peter smiled faintly. He remembered what that felt like—the weight of the city, the responsibility, the loneliness that sometimes came with it.
He put a hand on Miles’ shoulder. “You’ve got this, Miles. I believe in you. You’ve learned everything I can teach you—and honestly, you’re more than ready for this next step.”
Miles’ lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, man. Means a lot.”
Peter nodded. “Keep the city safe for me, okay?”
“You got it,” Miles replied.
Soon, the apartment was back to its flurry of packing and chatter. Peter hefted his luggage effortlessly—his spider-strength making light work of the multiple suitcases.
“Well,” he said, looking around the room, “I guess this is it. Time for me to—”
“Oh no you don’t,” Aunt May interrupted, crossing her arms with a mock sternness. “You’re not going anywhere until I get my hug.”
Peter laughed softly, setting his bags down. “How could I forget?”
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. For a few moments, everything else fell away.
“I love you, Aunt May,” he said quietly.
“I love you too, dear,” she replied, holding him tightly before letting go.
Peter turned to the rest of the group—MJ, Harry, Gwen, and Miles—and smirked. “All right, you guys. Bring it in.”
They all laughed, and the five of them shared a group hug—warm, slightly awkward, but perfect in its own way. When they broke apart, Peter’s grin softened into something more sincere. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Which is… what, exactly?” Gwen teased.
Peter shrugged. “Good question.”
He grabbed his bags again and started toward the door when Miles suddenly called out, “Yo, Peter!”
Peter turned. “Yeah?”
“I sent you a West Coast playlist,” Miles said with a grin. “Something to vibe to while you’re in Cali. You know, keep the energy right.”
Peter chuckled. “You’re the best, Miles. I’ll check it out.”
He opened the door and stepped into the hallway—only to hear a voice that made his shoulders tense in mild dread.
“Parker!”
Mr. Ditkovich stood at the end of the hallway, arms folded, his daughter Ursula standing beside him with a friendly wave.
“Uh… hey, Mr. Ditkovich! Ursula! How’s it going?”
“Hi, Peter,” Ursula said kindly.
But before Peter could respond further, Ditkovich took a step closer, his tone suddenly intense. “Will you still be able to pay rent while you are… gone?”
Peter sighed, but couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at his face. “Yes, Mr. Ditkovich. I’ll still pay my rent.”
Ditkovich’s stern expression cracked into a pleased grin. “You are a good man, Parker!”
Before Peter could react, the landlord suddenly pulled him into a bear hug.
“Whoa—uh—okay,” Peter stammered, juggling his suitcases while awkwardly patting the man on the back.
Ursula covered her mouth, hiding a laugh.
After a moment, the hug ended, and Peter gave them both a friendly nod before heading down the stairs.
Ditkovich watched him go, his expression softening. “I am going to miss that boy,” he said quietly.
JFK International Airport
BGM: Star Wars - Binary Sunset by John Williams
Hours later, at the airport, Peter stood in line, his suitcases checked in, his mind still catching up to everything that had happened. Before long, he was seated on the plane, window seat, mask tucked safely away in his carry-on.
As the engines roared and the plane began to ascend, Peter glanced out the window. New York’s skyline grew smaller and smaller, until it was just a glimmer beneath the clouds.
It felt strange—leaving the city that had been his entire world. But at the same time, he felt… ready. Nervous, yes, but ready.
He leaned back in his seat, exhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and let his thoughts overtake him as the plane angled west.
Los Angeles
The golden sunlight of Los Angeles poured through the airport windows as the plane doors opened. After hours of flying, Peter finally stepped off, stretching his legs and rolling his neck with a quiet groan. The energy of the city hit him instantly—bright, busy, warm. A far cry from New York’s hard-edged hum.
He followed the crowd through the terminal, shuffling toward baggage claim. Rolling announcements echoed overhead, and the smell of coffee and sunscreen lingered in the air. When the conveyer belt whirred to life, Peter spotted his suitcases and hauled them up effortlessly—one in each hand, like they were filled with feathers.
As he stepped outside, the California breeze hit him—softer, saltier, and somehow more relaxed. He took a deep breath, eyes squinting at the sunlight. “Well,” he muttered to himself, “this definitely isn’t Queens.”
Now came the fun part: finding a cab. And if there was one thing Peter thought he knew how to do, it was get a cab.
He stepped off the curb, waved his hand, and called out, “Taxi! Hey—yeah, right here!” Then he whistled, loud and sharp, just like he used to in Manhattan.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t Manhattan.
Cars zipped by. A couple of drivers ignored him completely. One guy rolled down his window just to yell something in Spanish about “getting a rideshare app.”
Peter sighed. “Okay, note to self: West Coast cab drivers are less responsive than New York pigeons.”
Just when he was about to give up, a yellow cab screeched to a stop beside him. Music blared from the speakers—something upbeat and old-school. Peter grinned, opened the door, and climbed inside.
The driver, cheerful and energetic, turned slightly in his seat. “Where to, my friend?”
Peter adjusted his bags. “Torrance Branch of SDN, please.”
There was a beat. Then Peter froze.
Wait. That voice… it sounded familiar.
He blinked, tilted his head, and said slowly, “...Wait. Stan?”
The driver turned, smiling warmly beneath his signature sunglasses. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite web-head! How ya doing, kid?”
Peter’s jaw dropped, then broke into a huge grin. “Holy crap! What are you doing in L.A.?”
Stan chuckled. “I could ask you the same thing! But hey, I’m here to enjoy the sunshine—maybe spot a hero or two while I’m at it.”
Peter laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s classic. Still keeping busy, huh?”
Stan winked. “You know me, true believer. Retirement’s for the dull ones.”
With that, the cab peeled out into the street. Peter glanced out the window as they drove—palm trees lined the wide boulevards, the sky was an impossible shade of blue, and the endless sprawl of Los Angeles seemed to stretch forever.
“So,” Stan said as he weaved between cars, “SDN, huh? Big opportunity.”
“Yeah,” Peter replied with a small smile. “Nick Fury’s sending me on a ‘prove-yourself’ mission. Guess I’m supposed to lead a team of ex-criminals who wanna turn things around.”
Stan nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full, kid. But hey—great power, great responsibility, right?”
Peter chuckled softly. “Wouldn’t be me if I forgot it.”
Before long, the cab turned into a more suburban district—quieter, dotted with low buildings and a clear view of the distant ocean. The car rolled to a stop in front of a modern facility with the sign: SUPERHERO DISPATCH NETWORK – TORRANCE BRANCH.
“Well, here we are,” Stan said.
Peter climbed out and grabbed his suitcases. “Thanks, Stan. Seriously. You’re a lifesaver.”
Stan waved it off. “All in a day’s work! Here, take this.” He handed Peter a small business card. ‘STAN’S RIDES – EXCELSIOR TRANSPORTATION’
“If you ever need a lift, call me. First ride’s on the house. Second one’s… slightly less on the house.”
Peter laughed, slipping the card into his jacket pocket. “Deal.”
Stan grinned, gave a thumbs-up, and shouted, “EXCELSIOR!” before hitting the gas and peeling out into traffic.
Peter watched the cab disappear into the distance, still smiling. “Man, I love that guy.”
Then he turned to face the SDN building, exhaling as he steadied himself. “All right, Parker. Showtime.”
SDN Lobby
BGM: Dispatch - Lana Works In The Mail Room
The lobby was sleek and bright, buzzing with quiet energy. A receptionist sat behind a front desk, typing rapidly. Peter approached, offering a friendly wave.
“Hi there. Peter Parker. I’m here for, uh… an interview? Actually, I guess it’s more of an orientation?”
The woman smiled politely, clicking through her computer. “Ah, yes—Mr. Parker. One moment, please.”
After a short pause, she nodded. “Someone will be right with you.”
“Thanks,” Peter said, sitting down on a nearby couch, adjusting his luggage at his feet. He took a slow breath, tapping his fingers against his knee. “All right, Pete. Deep breaths. Don’t trip over your words. Or your own feet.”
Footsteps approached.
“Peter Parker?”
He looked up—and his eyes widened slightly. A striking young woman with a confident smile and long blonde hair stood before him, hand extended.
“Hi. I’m Blonde Blazer,” she said brightly. “Nice to meet you.”
Peter quickly stood, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you too. Love the name, by the way—sounds like it came with its own comic series.”
She grinned. “It almost did.”
“Really?”
“No.”
Peter blinked, then laughed awkwardly. “Right. Good one.”
“Come on,” she said, gesturing for him to follow. “I’ll show you around.”
As they walked through the corridors, Blonde Blazer glanced at him. “So, you just got in?”
“Yeah, literally just landed,” Peter said. “Had a really friendly cab driver, though—kind of made the trip.”
“That’s good to hear,” she replied with a smile. “Welcome to the Torrance Branch. We’re not the most high-profile branch in the network—that honor goes to Downtown L.A.—but we’ve got great people. And that makes all the difference.”
Peter nodded, watching agents and support staff working behind rows of monitors. “Looks impressive to me.”
“Some of our heroes work in dispatch,” Blonde Blazer explained, “others stay in the field. But your team’s… a bit of a special case.”
Peter raised a brow. “Fury mentioned that I’d be working with ex-criminals. You know, as a sort of... team therapy leader-slash-babysitter.”
She laughed lightly. “That’s one way to put it. The Z-Team’s a handful, but they’ve got heart. They just need the right push—and you’re the guy for that.”
Peter smirked. “I’ll try to live up to the sales pitch.”
They reached a cluttered desk where a man was eating a Twinkie while typing one-handed. Blonde Blazer gestured toward him. “Peter, this is Robert Robertson—your dispatcher.”
Robert turned in his chair, Twinkie still in hand. “Hey there.”
Peter smiled and offered a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Robert.”
Robert looked at the hand, then shrugged and shook it. “Same to you, Spider-Man. Hope you survive the week.”
Before Peter could respond, another voice piped up. “Hey! Don’t I get an introduction too?”
Blonde Blazer chuckled. “Peter, this is Chase. The only reason he looks old is because of his powers.”
Chase wagged a finger. “Exactly. It’s energy aging. Totally different.”
Peter laughed, shaking his hand. “Regardless, it’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“‘Sir’ makes me feel older,” Chase muttered, but smiled anyway.
“Now,” Blonde Blazer said, “let’s introduce you to the team.”
“Oh boy,” Peter muttered under his breath. “I can already feel my sanity slipping away.”
Blonde Blazer grinned. “You’ll be fine.”
Moments Later…
They entered a large meeting room. Seated around the table were eight distinct figures: Invisigal, Sonar, Malevola, Prism, Punch Up, Golem, Flambae, and Coupé.
Blonde Blazer introduced each of them by name before turning to the group. “Everyone, this is Spider-Man, also known as Peter Parker. He’s your new field leader.”
A few eyebrows rose.
Then Prism suddenly shot up from her seat, eyes sparkling. “No way! The Spider-Man?!” She squealed, ran over, and hugged him before snapping a selfie with a wide grin.
Peter froze mid-hug, smiling awkwardly. “Uh… wow. Hi. Big fan, huh?”
“Biggest!” Prism gushed.
“Prism,” Blonde Blazer warned, “please don’t post that picture to your 1.3 million followers. We need to keep his identity a secret.”
“Aww, fine,” Prism groaned, sinking back into her seat.
Invisigal leaned back in her chair, smirking. “You know, you don’t really look like Spider-Man under the mask.”
Peter quirked a brow. “Is that your way of calling me ugly?”
Invisigal gave him a slow once-over. “Not ugly. Just... unexpectedly normal.”
Sonar chuckled. “I sense some hormones rising.”
Malevola laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”
Punch Up groaned, “Are we done here? I’m starving.”
Golem rumbled in agreement. “Lunch sounds good.”
Coupé, with a sharp glare, crossed her arms. “I could kill him where he stands.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Okay, noted.”
Flambae burst out laughing. “Chill, Coupé! Don’t scare the great Spider-Man back to New York!”
Blonde Blazer sighed. “Nobody’s killing anybody.”
Then, perfectly on cue, Robert poked his head through the doorway. “Hey, just checking—anyone dead yet?”
“Not yet,” Blonde Blazer muttered.
Peter cleared his throat, holding up a hand. “Okay, listen up, everyone. I’ve never led a team before, and I’m not here to boss anyone around. All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove myself—and I promise, I won’t steer you wrong. At least… not intentionally.”
Despite his light tone, there was something solid behind his words—something sincere.
The room went quiet.
Then Invisigal broke the silence. “That was… kind of hot.”
Peter blinked. “Robert, is she always like this?”
Robert shrugged. “Yep. She pretty much said the exact same thing to me on my first day.”
Peter groaned softly.
Blonde Blazer clapped her hands once. “All right, that’s enough chaos for now. Go grab lunch, everyone.”
The Z-Team practically stampeded out the door.
As the noise faded, Peter exhaled. “Wow. Yeah. I definitely have my hands full.”
Robert smirked. “Now you know how I feel.”
Blonde Blazer sighed but smiled. “Let’s just say your first mission’s going to be… interesting.”
Robert raised a hand. “I’m gonna go make sure they don’t destroy the cafeteria.” He headed out, leaving Peter and Blonde Blazer alone.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “So… I don’t exactly have a place to stay yet.”
Blonde Blazer smirked and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. SDN’s got you covered.”
Peter sighed in relief. “Good to know. Because I was about five minutes away from calling my cab driver again.”
She laughed softly. “Welcome to the Torrance Branch, Spider-Man.”
Peter smiled, glancing toward the window where the California sun gleamed bright and blinding.
“Thanks,” he said quietly. “Feels like this might be the start of something... interesting.”
Sometime Later…
Peter followed Blonde Blazer through the warm afternoon streets of Torrance, his luggage rolling behind him. The sun gleamed against the sidewalks, and palm trees lined the streets like a postcard he’d seen a thousand times but never thought he’d live in. The walk from SDN’s Torrance Branch to his new apartment wasn’t long, maybe five minutes, but in that short time Peter found himself quietly taking it all in—the hum of distant traffic, the faint ocean breeze, and the laughter of people passing by. California really was a different world compared to the constant noise and chaos of New York.
“Here we are,” Blonde Blazer said, stopping in front of a clean, modern-looking building. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was neat and well-kept—an improvement over Peter’s creaky old place back home. She handed him a key attached to a small silver SDN tag and smiled. “Your new headquarters away from headquarters.”
Peter grinned and took the key. “Guess I get the honors.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing his new apartment.
Inside, the space was modest but comfortable—a living room with a couch, a small TV stand, a kitchenette tucked into one corner, and a single bedroom down the hall. The afternoon sunlight poured in through the window, illuminating everything in a warm glow. Peter stepped inside and turned a slow circle, taking it all in.
“Well,” he said, “it’s about the size of my old apartment back in New York.”
Blonde Blazer folded her arms, smirking playfully. “Is that a compliment or a complaint?”
Peter chuckled. “A compliment. I was half-expecting a broom closet, to be honest. This is… really nice. Especially since SDN’s footing the bill.”
She smiled, pleased. “Good. We try to take care of our heroes.”
Peter’s expression softened, sincerity replacing his joking tone. “Thanks, really. For all your help. I don’t think I’ve said that enough today.”
“You’re welcome,” she said warmly. “Just part of the job.”
A comfortable silence lingered between them for a moment. Then Blonde Blazer glanced at her phone, noticing the time. “I’ll let you get settled in. Your first official day’s tomorrow, and trust me, you’re going to want your rest.”
Peter nodded. “Oh, don’t worry—I plan on sleeping like a log tonight. First day jitters and all that.”
She chuckled lightly and started toward the door. “You’ll be fine, Parker.”
Just before she could leave, Peter called out, “Hey, uh—Blonde Blazer?”
She turned, curious. “Yeah?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, that familiar nervous grin creeping onto his face. “You’ve done a lot for me already, and I kinda feel like I should repay you somehow. So… how about dinner? My treat.”
For a second, her smile faltered. Her eyes widened just slightly—not out of offense, but surprise. There was an awkward beat of silence before she spoke, her voice softer. “Peter… I really appreciate that, but—” she hesitated, then offered an apologetic half-smile, “—I’m sorry. I have a boyfriend.”
Peter froze mid-smile. “Oh. Oh! Right! Of course you do,” he said, rubbing his neck even harder now. “Sorry, I didn’t—uh—yeah, didn’t mean to make it weird.”
She shook her head quickly. “You didn’t. Really. It’s totally fine. You didn’t know.”
“Still,” he muttered sheepishly. “Guess I should stick to thanking people with words instead of… dinner invitations.”
That earned a small laugh from her, genuine and kind. “You’re fine, Peter. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling despite himself. “See you then.”
She waved and stepped out, the door closing softly behind her.
Peter stood there for a moment, eyes on the door, before letting out a long sigh. “Smooth, Parker,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Real smooth.”
He dropped his bags, glanced around the apartment again, and exhaled. “Welcome to California, Spider-Man.”
A Moment Later…
Outside, in the hallway, Blonde Blazer leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. The faint hum of the building filled the silence, but her mind was elsewhere—not on Peter’s awkward invitation, but on the flicker of guilt that came with it.
BUZZ!
She reached into her pocket when her phone buzzed, pulling it out to see a text lighting up the screen.
Phenomaman: I cannot wait for our date in Tokyo tonight!
Her thumb hovered over the screen. After a pause, she typed a reply.
Blonde Blazer: Can’t wait either.
She stared at the message for several seconds before hitting send. As the text delivered, she sighed quietly—not from annoyance, but something heavier. She slipped her phone back into her pocket, pinched the bridge of her nose, and whispered under her breath, “Get it together, Mandy.”
After a moment, she straightened herself, exhaled slowly, and began walking toward the exit, the distant California traffic echoing outside the building.
And with that, she left—her boots clicking against the floor until the sound faded away, leaving behind only the soft hum of the hallway and the faint sound of Peter unpacking inside his new home.
END OF CHAPTER 1: WELCOME TO CALIFORNIA
BGM: The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air Ending Credits
Sonar: I sense some unhappiness in Blonde Blazer’s relationship.
Invisigal: Gee, ya don’t say?
Sonar: I am a Harvard graduate, so I’m able to pick up on these things.
Chase: Why don’t you ever shut up about being a Harvard graduate?
Malevola: Oh brother…
Prism: Listen! If y’all are gonna fight, let me know. I need to record it on my live!
Peter: What did I just walk into?
Coupé: Your demise.
Blonde Blazer: Hey! I said no killing!
Robert: They won’t kill him physically, but they’ll kill him mentally. Speaking from experience.