fearless || peter parker

eight || The Adventures of Nitara's Phone, and Dropkicking 101

Nitara shrugged. "Some guys don't."

We got to Nitara's apartment (by using purely the sidewalks) in good time, and I gave her father a nod when we left the kitchen for her room. Even though Nitara was at my house when he didn't know where she was, he only blamed Nitara. Which I felt bad for, of course, but I was also thankful, because Madison's wrath was enough to handle on its own.

Nitara's bedroom was warm and welcoming as I face planted into her canvas bed. Her salt lamp was the only source of light in the room, but it emitted a warm feeling. I didn't know whether those things worked or not- but in the events of the last week, It would take an awful lot to actually surprise me ever again.

"We could go out tonight," Nitara suggested, opening her curtains to unveil the limitless city streets. "Go find some more ass to kick."

"As much as I like kicking ass," I countered, "I'm not risking being seen by anyone. Remember? Lab rat? I don't want that."

Nitara opened her dresser drawers, restlessly shuffling through her clothes. "You're not going to go out there without an outfit, idiot. But don't worry- because what are the odds that your best friend is a practising seamstress?"

With that, Nitara ripped out some dark fabric from her top drawer. "I have a bunch of these. It's breathable, so it can go over your face. And you can wrap it around and under your hair. Curls don't matter. Every hero has a mask, Diana."

I slipped off the bed and held the material in my hands. Then, without thinking how, I arranged it over my head. It was long, and pitch black- I wrapped it under my nape, then around my crown. I was still able to let some hair drift over the top. But as I could see in Nitara's giant mirror, my face- except for my eyes- was hidden.

"I look like a burglar," I complained, although my words came out seamlessly, not at all muffled by the thin mask.

"D! Wait," Nitara said suddenly, going through her drawer again. "I have these gloves. They're fingerless, and thin but they'll do the job, if you want."

Not a moment later Nitara threw two gloves at me. Hesitantly, I slid them on while taking off my burgundy ones. These were lacy and sheer, and some purple pulsed through my fingertips, just wisping out of the tips of the fabric.

"Your leggings are good," Nitara said. The leggings I was wearing right now were new, thanks to Madison's pay raise. "I hope you aren't attached to them or anything. They might get ruined out there."

I felt bad, but I pushed the feeling to the back of my mind. "Forget about the leggings. We're seriously doing this? Going out there?"

Nitara whipped out a long sleeve black top from her drawer, and tossed it at me. "You bet. Last week, I thought you were nuts for helping that woman. But you... I don't know. It came so naturally to you. Helping people."

And if we were lucky, I thought, we would run into Vulture again. This time I knew what, exactly, I would be getting into. "I guess this would be good practise."

Nitara perked up. "For what?"

I swapped shirts that I was wearing into the stretchy black one Nitara passed me- the sleeves had a long vertical stripe with laces that I struggled to tie with the gloves, but managed. "Just for.... getting used to it. What I can do. I still haven't really tried. It hurts."

Now Nitara was on the bed with me. "What do you mean, it hurts? You shouldn't be doing anything if it hurts- why didn't you mention it before?"

"It wasn't a big deal," I said. "And it's weird. It only, like, aches, that's all, when I'm not using them. The trails. Whatever. It's like it's building up inside me and wants out."