The Spider Hunt (A Spiderman Fanfiction)

A Schooling in Salmon

{*This is nearly 11 000 words. Why do I do this to myself... I have got to cut down on the chapter size. It was later than I promised (sorry again!) but earlier than usual and longer than usual so that's a plus?? I'm pretty sure there were some questions I was meant to address but memory is not good and I'm tired from writing to get this out today so sorry if that was for you. Lots of references as usual so have fun spotting them.

Also, action scenes are hard I'm sorry in advance.

Anyway. Go forth and read, I look forward to your abuse on both me for writing this and the Avengers for being idiots.*}

Under the mask, Peter sometimes had trouble telling if he was laughing or crying. It was like that distinctive switch inside him had been worn away, leaving him forever teetering between the two and never knowing when the emotions switch over.

He likes to tell himself that it's just his duty as an edgy Gen Z kid to be dead inside, but he knew that perhaps it wasn't the most normal thing to not feel a difference when his brain suddenly decides to be out weeping and sad over his preferred covering problems with humour technique. To him, sadness and happiness sometimes... sometimes it just felt the same.

The only real way to tell was the reactions of the people around him. He's been told that his laugh was contiguous, making you want to smile and talk a million miles an hour to keep up with the sheer exuberance he exhibits. People are happy when he laughs. He likes that, he knows that he must be happy too. But when they get uncomfortable and frantic, he knows that his switch suddenly teetered over, that there are tears in his eyes and sadness in his brain. People's faces; It's an easy tell to tell if it's he is in tears or laughing when he himself cannot tell.

He wished more than anything he could understand that switch as he crept inch by inch along the thickest shadows of a quiet alley a mere block from his home. He was definitely feeling something, but it was hard to tell around this general feeling of panic. His senses were shaking, each rustle of a street rat sending him scurrying up the nearest building and it felt like there were thousands of spiders crawling mockingly along his skin. And the Spider-man suit, oh how it seemed to itch as it never had before. His clung to the wall with one hand as his other ghosted it way down his side, fingers twitching with the urge to just rip it off and ran home with his tail between his legs.

Peter groaned and hung his head with defeat as he swung carelessly through the broken glass window of an abandoned warehouse and sat high on a beam to stare down at the dusty broken furniture that littered the floor. This warehouse used to be the base of a small drug operation that he had broken up during his early days of Spider-man, back when he was still insecure enough that his extent of 'vigilantism' was performing parkour in the few blocks around his home. That has been his first real taste of what Spider-man could be and how he had revelled in the feeling. He felt like he had single-handedly stopped all drugs in New York, like he could take on the world and come out unscathed. He was a fool back then. A fool who had no idea how dark and scary the rabbit hole was.

Peter gave a snort and lay splayed on his back so his arms and legs dangled loosely over the metal beam. He stared up at the jagged gaps in between the roof beams, eyes drifting to watch the moonlight scatter on the loose sheets of dirty plastic that hung down like spider webs.

What was he doing? Hiding in an old warehouse on a quiet street in the area surrounding his home known to criminals as "Spider-man Hotspots." Criminals never come around here anymore, he needs to move if he wants to confront any sort of crime and save anyone this evening.

"Come on. Move." Peter hissed to himself through barely moving lips, eyes still lingering at the moon between the broken sheets.

He didn't move.