That Friday, on the twenty-third, I was left for the third time in a row to go do some Nightmare business without Nitara.
At first, it was weird. I initially struggled when I was putting my mask on around my hair, and then when deciding what shoes to wear with it. As it turned out, I had no black ones, not even sandals, so I had to break into Madison's shoe closet. I got my hands on a pair of black Nikes, which looked like they were worth more than me, and couldn't help but wonder where she'd come across them. I'd never seen her in them.
Maybe they were Mom's.
Shamelessly, I slipped them on. It was better if they got some wear and tear, just not so much to be noticeable. I'd keep the damage to a minimum.
While it was still light out, I kept it to walks down side streets and alleyways that were never busy, if possible. Getting noticed could mean someone ringing the cops on me. So, as much as I hated alleyways, I tried to remember that I was the one with the power. I could defend myself just fine, and help others just as much. Like that blond kid at Midtown. I wondered how the thugs that cornered him were enjoying the police station.
For a dingy street in Queens at dusk, there wasn't much going on. I hadn't even heard sirens by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, which was my cue to swing up onto the nearest fire escape and take it to the rooftops.
I only used one trail to jump up, but it was enough to light up the whole alley. I landed with a clang, so if the residents of this building didn't already see me, they definitely heard me. I wasted no time in running up the escape until I got to the top, where there was nothing but vociferous wind, baked cement, and the faintest echo of a sunset.
I took my time jumping over the rooftops until I got to the corner the Deli was on. The lights in the front of the store were off, but I could see Murph lounging on the window counter. The streetlights flicked on, one row at a time down the street, and they rippled against the cat's fur through the glass.
Murph was watching the cars go by. There weren't many, and they all came by in bunches, no uniformly. Maybe the traffic lights were out of synch, but either way, traffic was once again dying down.
So much so, that I figured it would be safe to cross through the air at the intersection without being a distraction to drivers.
I spent most of my time on the business streets. I passed the Queens Diner a couple times, and could see Marty at the cash through the windowpanes as I stood on the edge of a roof. It didn't look busy.
I couldn't shake Nitara's words earlier of Peter from my head.
I mean, Peter was being odd at school, but that didn't mean that he worked with Vulture. We were sophomores, for the love of all things, and I didn't think that the Vulture, a weapon-loaded crime lord, had the time nor energy to fraternize with fifteen-year olds.
Fifteen-year olds that were on his side, anyway.
I sighed through my mask. Vulture had to have some people on his side. One man couldn't have been working in a warehouse all by himself. Maybe it would be easier to track them down as a start.
What was Vulture doing with weapons like that, anyway? Plotting world domination? Unlikely. It was definitely an interior business. Mafia? It sounded stupid, but it could be something like that. Or a gang showing off to other gangs. I was running out of options.
How would I even begin to track down his crew, anyway?
My thoughts were disintegrated by a shattering of glass, followed by a sharp alarm. My head spiked up, and as I swam away from my thoughts on Vulture, I looked below the side of the roof to the other side of the street where a shop had its glass door shattered. Just as I spotted the source of the alarm, the screeching of it stopped abruptly. It was the same store I had bought my gloves at, and through the window, I could see two figures moving around inside. They must have already turned the alarm off.
I hadn't even sprung from my position on the roof when down the street, a sharp red figure zoomed into my peripheral vision and, lacking grace, aimed to land on the store's awning but soared over top of it and landed on the deserted sidewalk. In the streetlights, their white eyes narrowed, and I heard him hiss in pain and frustration, before leaping back onto his feet and stepping through the door's opening.
The shadows of the thieves stilled as I heard Spider-Man say, "Ladies! What's up?"
He didn't wait for a response as he swung into action (not literally), and shot two thin, white webs at the first woman, effectively sticking her gloved hands to the wall. The second grabbed a clothing rack stationed on the floor of the shop and threw it at Spider-Man, who effectively ducked before it even completely left her hands. It clattered to the tiles on the floor, and Spider-Man took a defensive stance as the woman picked up a mannequin from the window.
The woman on the wall managed to get a hand free from the web without Spider-Man noticing, so I decided I wanted in on the action.
"How come you guys are robbing a store like this? Huh?" Spider-Man dodged every item the second woman was throwing his way with ease, a shoe here, decoration there, although it kept him distracted to the majority of what was going on behind him-namely, the woman who was currently escaping his webs. "You're already wearing, like, three layers of clothes-"
After that final comment, the woman reached for the last item that seemed to be near her- a hangar pole. I could only see through the window frame what was going on, but as I made use of my trails to get me down the side of the building, I managed to see more the closer I got to the ground.
I stopped a few floors from the sidewalk. If I crossed the street, and landed on the awning, the thieves wouldn't be able to see me, and I could use the element of surprise if needed. Hoping that my aim was better than that of Spider-Man's, I shot a trail to a balcony pole a couple floors above the awning, and jumped across the street, with as much help from my trails as I could use, retracting them so that I made the jump.
The awning squeaked when I landed on it, but it was a sound that could easily be dismissed.
It was a good thing I had moved- not two seconds later did the glass window shatter to pieces, with Spider-Man barreling through the air and landing on the crease of the sidewalk and the empty road with a whispered cry.
I went from a kneeling position to a crouch, readying myself if need be. Before Spider-Man could even get back up, both women appeared below the awning. The one against the wall must have freed her hand from the web keeping it to the wall- with or without the help of her accomplice. Now that I wasn't looking through opaque glass, I got a better look at them- both were blondes, above average height. Spider-Man was right- they were wearing outrageously large coats, and I guessed several layers beneath. I couldn't see their entire faces from the superfluous sunglasses both of them wore to conceal their identity- it obviously wasn't for the sun. It was far past sunset by now.
Before I could identify anything else, I was startled as both women reached into their coats and pulled out two guns. Each. I gulped, and it felt like I had an anvil in my stomach. Spider-Man slowly regained his footing, but was immediately distracted by the four guns that were all aiming at his head.
I knew he had webshooters, and I knew he had speed on his side. But he wasn't as fast as a bullet, and he only had two hands.
I could only see the back of their heads, but I could tell that the first woman was smiling as she said, "Any last words, Spider-Man?"
I waved my gloved hand frantically back and forth through the air, trying to get his attention as he deducted his chances of escape, of which there were few to none of. Even though I was a dark figure in the night, I hoped the streetlamps were illuminating enough to make me noticeable.
Spider-Man looked between the first woman, and the second probably too preoccupied thinking of his final words than to notice my frenzied gesture. Words to warn him were at the tip of my tongue, but I stumbled on my actions when I thought of the outcome. One, I distract Spider-Man and he gets shot; two, I distract the thieves and he gets away; or three, I distract all of them and I get shot.
No matter how hard I waved my hand back and forth, Spider-Man was oblivious and only paying attention to the four guns pointing at him, probably trying to figure a way out of this one.
I almost smirked to myself before I saved his ass. Superheroes weren't invincible.
I slipped my black glove off of my hand in one quick motion, and flexed my hand. Purple wisps of energy crackled off the scarred palm of my skin, and before I could form any regrets into what I was doing, I waved my fluorescent hand through the night sky like a torch. Spider-Man hardly flinched, and if I didn't see his white eyes shift ever so slightly, I'd have thought he missed me. But out of the corner of his eye, he watched.
I heard the sound of a couple guns clicking loose. Deep breath. They couldn't see me. A real hero was someone who was smart enough to get out of this. If I couldn't do this, I probably didn't deserve to be squatting on the awning in the first place. With a violently glowing hand, I pointed sharply at myself, then dragged my pointed finger down to the woman on the left. Then, I pointed at Spider-Man, and drew his gaze to the woman on my right. He remained still; unfaltering.
If he didn't understand...
He had to understand.
I made a three with my fingers as the other guns clicked. A two. A one.
Then I jumped into action.
I sprang from the awning like a trampoline, arms out in front of me as a couple trails shot out of my back nearly faster than her bullet could have rang through the air. At the same time, I heard Spider-Man's webshooters spew in the direction of the woman on my right- but that wasn't important right now. He was fine- I had to worry about this one.
With my hands clasping onto her shoulders and my trails shooting in front of us at the same time, the thief spun ninety degrees in the direction not facing Spider-Man and instead the once-abandoned street, which was now filling up with pedestrians peering out of floor-level doors.
Just one more thing to worry about.
With my trails, I brought one each up to the rift between the handles and barrels of the guns, and sliced the metal clean off, allowing half of each firearm to clatter pathetically to the sidewalk as I wrapped each trail around her body next, my hands still clutched to her shoulders from behind. I was careful not to slice her in half as well- the trails almost responded to my mind as I willed them out of auto-kill super-sharp mode like I did with the door handle on Nitara's apartment compared to the wrought iron flower basket on the apartment's wall. And, when I was satisfied, I sent a jolt of energy through the trails and inflicted it upon her. I only let go when I was sure she was out cold from the shock.
It stunned me a little, too, though not in the same way. Until Spider-Man walked up to my side and asked me a question, I had zoned out in sheer exhaustion and swayed slightly on my feet.
I guess everything came at a price.
I cursed the laws of physics as Spider-Man waved a hand in front of my masked face. "Hey," he said. "We should go. The cops are coming. We probably shouldn't be here when they do, and I wanna talk-"
I had only opened my mouth to respond when a red and blue light illuminated the street to the left, and Spider-Man laced his arm around my waist and wasted no time bolting upwards with a shoot of the webs until we were back on the cement roof, stories above the chaos on the ground and hiding well enough on the centre.
Fascination struck me before embarrassment, and I wapped Spider-Man's arm that was still slung around my waist, for some reason, with a hard jab from the elbow, hoping he got the message. "What are you doing?"
"Going," he said with a shrug, scratching the back of his neck. It looked more like a bad habit than a purposeful action, because there was nothing to scratch but spandex. "I, uh- here's your glove."
My cheeks burned as I realised that I was still missing my glove. With a quick (gloved) left hand, I snatched it from him without revealing my other palm. Surely he hadn't seen it from the distance I had waved at him on the awning from.
I slipped the sleek fabric back on- it felt rough against my tattered skin, but concealed it once again.
Spider-Man leaned back on the concrete, his elbows propping him up to my eye-level as I sat to recover. "So, that was kind of a mess down there, huh? I guess I owe you thanks."
I stared ahead. "Don't mention it."
Spider-Man still looked uncomfortable. "No, I mean it. Like... how old are you? Who are you? You handled that better than I could ever imagine."
Behind my mask, my face shrivelled in disgust. The last thing I needed was Spider-Man condescending me after leaping me onto a rooftop in front of a bunch of people staring out their windows confused at what just happened. Two of Queens' sort-of-vigilantes beating up some thieves on the roadside. Now I had an old dude trying to hold a conversation with me like I was a project to pick up.
I never did like when big companies bought out the little ones.
"I'm old enough to handle myself," I said slowly, choosing my words carefully. While I was uncomfortable, if I were going the be a hero and be favourable in the public eye, it wouldn't exactly hurt to have Spider-Man on my good side. It was the smart move, and heroes were generally smart.
"I never said that," Spider-Man said, his voice suddenly sounding small and hollow. Like his brain just drained all his vocabulary out his ears. "I just mean... I froze, and you knew exactly what to do. You kept your cool. I've been doing this for long enough, but some things still manage to... sneak up on me. In a way."
"In a way?"
"I can sense it," Spider-Man explained. "But sensing four guns at the same time doesn't particularly do me much in terms of solving the problem."
This time I wavered my gaze to Spider-Man, illuminated by just Queens' city streets glow. The colours of his suit were dark enough to blend in with the night, but I could still see every detail, every webbed stitch shine. I decided to take a step up on him. "What? You never had a gun pointed at you before?"
Spider-Man scoffed, and this time it definitely struck me as young. Like something I'd hear walking down the halls of Midtown High when someone didn't make the basketball team final cutoffs. The way he talked, situated carelessly on the ground even when he held half of Queens on his shoulders... no, he couldn't have been that old at all. Twenty, max. I recognised my generation when I saw it.
Say it. "You're not that old either, are you?"
Spider-Man perked up. "You said either."
I bit my bottom lip. "I did."
Way to go. Now he knows you're just a teenager, at best. Reeeeal smooth, D.
"Balancing this is hard," Spider-Man said suddenly. "With school. And-and work. And... life." He looked at me like he almost wanted to hear me say something. "I haven't heard about you much. You just glided out of the shadows. But... balancing sucks," he said again. "It's all a big secret. Which means there are people to protect."
Well, yeah. I figured that was a given, as we were currently monitoring the Queens skyline. "Somebody has to do it."
Suddenly, the sound of traffic below faded away and died. Spider-Man looked directly at me. "I always thought it would feel good to be somebody. But I never really thought about the weight that came with it. Or maybe that was an after-the-fact kind of thing."
The weight that came with it. Suddenly I felt like Atlas. This definitely wasn't a good time to tell my seemingly new ally, Spider-Man himself, that I had a side plan of revenge up my sleeve. Was that my weight? Or just extra baggage?
"It hasn't even been long," I said with a sigh. "And I'm exhausted. I'm confused." I smiled, though Spider-Man couldn't see it. "And I have no idea if what I'm doing is right."
Spider-Man looked off the edge of the building from where we sat, of which pavement began to warm. "If you're helping people, it's right. Simple as that."
I looked off into the distant skyline with Spider-Man. "The city that never sleeps," I mused, taking in every new rush of commotion, whether it be flashing lights, sirens, yelling from car windows, like a breath of fresh air. "I guess that means we don't, either."
Spider-Man leaned back some more. "You get used to it." A pause. "It might take some growing in to. I don't know much about your powers, but-"
"You don't have to," I blurted, hoping he would stop pushing on a subject that was still setting into the ground. "I mean... they're pretty complex. The trails."
I could tell I had spiked Spider-Man's interests. "So that's what you call those guys?"
I could tell he wanted more. He waws pressing me for more. But the day I gave him more would be the day the world would crumble, because while I liked talking to someone about this, finally someone who understood, they still didn't need to hear the whole story. It would probably disappoint them. It would disappoint Spider-Man, who's practically an Avengers rep, it would disappoint Madison, who projects worry like the Batman symbol across the whole city, and it would disappoint the few friends I had that weren't Nitara. I wasn't even sure she knew what my full intentions were. Sure, I wanted to find Vulture for an explanation of what he did to me, but I also wanted to beat the shit out of him.
If I was helping people, it was right. Solved, done with.
I didn't mean to ignore the question, though if presented with the choice to do so, I probably would have let it drift past anyway. "Well, that's two more criminals off the streets. Less work for tomorrow. I'm just... not sure of their style."
"Honestly. Those women were wearing three layers. At least."
Spider-Man laughed. "I mean their criminal style. But you..."
He trailed off, staring at me with his blank white eyes, which were somehow more attuned to the suspicion coursing through his voice than mine. Closer up, his suit had a lot of tech. Most likely all Stark.
A cloud settled over my thoughts.
"How did you hear what I was saying if you were up on the roof?"
My head jolted to face Spider-Man, the cloud disappearing into nothing. "Huh?"
Spider-Man eyed me closer. "How did you hear what I was saying? Is that another one of your powers? Heightened senses? Because that-"
Now instead of the cloud, there was a rainbow. "Makes so much more sense," I drawled. "The curtains and the moonlight. The charger. Just now. Literally everything."
My mind stood still as I processed perhaps the most obvious aspect of my powers that I had no knowledge over. "I'm a moron."
"-would be a blessing and a curse," Spider-Man finished. "Trust me. I would know."
"It had to be gradual," I resonated. I hoped I wasn't stupid enough and caught up in everything to ignore every single sign that my senses had squared themselves. "That's, like, the only way I wouldn't notice."
Spider-Man raised his arm, about to say something, but I was ahead of him by a mile. "Who knows what else I can do. There was that thing in the alley, and everything was dark, but..."
Spider-Man waved his hand at me. "Hey. You good?"
My mouth was dry from breathing fabric and being open in wonder for so long. "Yeah. I'm good."
***
Spider-Man and I spent a bit more time on the roof, occasionally listening to the police conversation for the first little bit below us-just because we could. Then, the sirens faded into the distant streets of New York, and we were left with a cool breeze on the roof.
We spoke about different routes. I would stick to rooftops, for now, seeing as he was more of a natural swinger- though it wasn't a broken deal for me to try. We both figured that, being from the same area, we'd see each other again soon. Still, we went over different times and availability. After all, our city never slept, so someone would have to be on watch.
"One more thing," Spider-Man said, crouching on the very edge of the building but facing the other way, watching me about to take the running jump. "What should I call you?"
I grinned. "I think it's been on the news. But the name is Nightmare."
Something unrecognisable flickered over the eyes of Spider-Man's mask. "Well?" I stated. "What about you? You good with Spider-Man?"
I received a solid nod. "From your friendly neighborhood, of course."
I wore a sly smirk under my mask, and this time as he watched me take my stance, I knew he was aware. "You really are better suited for the day shift."
A small laugh worked its way out of Spider-Man before he wheeled his arm towards the next roof. "Go!"
I didn't need him to tell me even once. The rooftops were my highway, and when I jumped, I didn't look back, because I knew it was a sight that would be waiting for another day.
When I got home, mask removed and tied around my waist, the door was unlocked.
That meant someone was in the apartment.
Please be a burglar, I thought fiercely as I squeaked open the door as quietly as possible. Inside, it was dimly lit, suggesting Madison had gotten home and immediately gone to bed with just leaving a lamp on. But when I opened the door all the way, she was sitting at the table, staring right at me.
She didn't say anything. And that probably made it worse. I would rather have a five-minute screaming match with Madison about my whereabouts and have the neighbours file a noise complaint at whatever time of night it was rather than what seemed to be in store for me tonight.
"I called Nitara," Madison began, her voice quiet. "She said she didn't know where you were."
I stared at Madison, about to open my mouth and dump out some lame excuse before she continues and made glad I didn't lie.
"I called the diner. Marty says you called in last night and weren't scheduled tonight."
It was at this moment I realised I needed to refill my lie bank, because I had only a grasp on a single option-Nitara-until Madison ripped it from my grasp.
"And you come home, after midnight," she says, her voice raising ever so slightly with every word. Maybe I was wrong about the screaming match. "wearing nothing but black. Covered in... in what? What is that, Diana? Dust? Where did you go?"
I opened my mouth again to speak, but Madison beat me to it. "I went through your wallet. You left it on the couch. And nearly all your tip money is gone. Diana... you know I try. I try so hard to keep what we have and it's not just me but it's your responsibility to make a good future, because I can't keep track of all this-"
Was Madison crying?
"I try to be there when I can, and I'm sorry when I can't, but when you leave like that and don't come back until now- on a school night- I don't know where you've been- what you've been doing- what you've been doing-"
Our entire conversation- however one-sided it was-shattered to my feet. "Huh? What I've been doing? Do- do you think-"
Madison sprung up from her chair. "What am I supposed to think, Diana? You're gone at night and your money is gone and you come back like this, like everything is fine-"
"It is fine!"
"It's not fine!"
I wanted to yell back. But I knew that would get nowhere, and I knew that would just get us another complaint that we didn't need. "The money was the end of last week's because I didn't go in yesterday," I explained softly, still treading lightly. "I bought food, and gave some to Nitara for helping me fix up some clothes. It's no big deal."
Madison stared at me. Stared a little longer. I craved the last word, partly because my older sister was wrong and partly because I wanted to go to bed, but I had to be frank that it hurt a little when she came to the conclusion that I was on drugs the minute I stepped out of line.
Her voice shook. "I'm working tomorrow night at seven. I won't be home until four. I need you to feed Chewie, and be here when I leave. You are not leaving-"
I practically screeched. Fuck the neighbors. "Madison!"
"You are not leaving and I'm letting the lobby know," she said, flustered but setting her words into stone. "You aren't coming or going for a while. Nitara can come here, but there is off limits. Diana, what I need for you right now is to focus on school because I can't see you going down the wrong path."
"You're sending me down it right now," I fumed. Smoke was all but coming from my ears and ringing the alarm. "You can't ground me. You're not mom. Stop trying to be. You're not the expert of my life."
Madison stared at me in the dim light. Her features were ghostly, and I immediately wanted to reel back on what I said about out mom.
"Wait," I said, quieter. "Maddy."
"No leaving," she said, looking into the space above my shoulder. "Only for work. I have your schedule. So does the desk. I'm going to bed," she smelts, and her words freeze over me in their opposite effect. "I think you should too."
She left me in the living room, with an open door and no way out.