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Unfortunately, that was a lie; I didn't or couldn't truly hate the boy anymore, I just had a very strong, very deep disliking for him at times. One of those times, coincidentally, being as I raced to find the web-slinging kid, doing my best to find out where he was going that time.

At least he wasn't exactly hiding. It made things a little bit easier, though not by very much. The job was still extremely difficult, almost impossible to keep up, even with the whoops and hollers that filled the air as he struggled through the city. He was headed to a minor robbery, from what I knew, and though he had been limping through the streets just days before, Peter flew through the air like he had never felt pain.

The robbery, however, was nothing more than a setup; Inga had explained to me that this was a gauge of his abilities, with cameras set up all around. I was simply there to watch and recall what happened and, if things went wrong, intervene. That part I didn't understand, but I wasn't up to argue - or, at least, something inside me told me that it wasn't a smart idea to do so.

One wrong move and I cried out, forced to stop for a prolonged second so I could readjust to the new pain sent shooting through my neck. It wouldn't stop, but neither would I, and with a groan, I leapt to my feet and continued my chase.

It had been days since the visit, but I still didn't know what happened or what was done to me - after the needle was inserted into my neck, everything faded away, and I awoke in the apartment as if nothing had happened. I wasn't even sure if it had happened; for all I knew, it was a dream, nothing more, just another trauma-induced point in my broken timeline.

Still, things weren't the same, not like they used to be. My body hurt in strange ways in places I had never hurt myself, and one wrong move and my torso felt like it had been lit up with a thousand firecrackers all at once. I wasn't okay - not that I had ever been able to claim that state - but I wasn't able to plead or have help, and so my feet continued to trudge and my mind continued to race, focusing on the goal and the goal alone.

I moved to the side as the boy raced past, then followed carefully, following the exact same procedure that had been ingrained into my head; up the fire escape, then turn to the right and into a small room, where I could watch him dispose of them in secret. My body slipped and fit perfectly in the shadows, and I tucked my legs in just enough so that, even if he looked carefully, I was just a part of the darkness.

The boy swung in, just like was planned, and placed his hands on surprisingly narrow hips, narrowing his eyes at the criminals oh so conveniently standing nearby. "Evening, fellows - what are we up to tonight?"

I winced at his words; the boy never failed to be incredibly awkward and always make me want to vomit the little food I had eaten that day. He never seemed to understand how serious these things - either that, or he simply didn't care. Either way, he was the goofiest superhero in the most serious of moments - or even overall - and I didn't know how I felt about that.

"Oh, shit, it's the kid - quick, go that way," cursed one, rustling and stomping steel-toed boots against the ageing floor. "No! Just go, dumbass!"

"Wait for a second, the party just started!" protested the boy, who immediately drew closer to the group, successfully closing them in. "Come on, guys, work with me here!"

I rolled my eyes but still watched carefully as he fought, twirling through the air and moving between the men. He was somehow strong but still dainty on red and blue feet, reminding me more like a ballerina than an actual superhero. After that image popped into my mind, it took a lot not to snort with laughter as I continued to watch; the Parker boy seemed like he was ready for a performance, like in a past life or alternate world, he was a dancer, spinning through the air for applause and flowers.

Little Spy | Peter Parker ✓Where stories live. Discover now