"I HATE YOU SO MUCH, PETER PARKER."

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.

The thought went sour quickly, as it traced back to my own past, and I quickly forced it from my mind, focusing my energy on the boy. Bad memories weren't the way to go, and it was never smart when my job was to keep an eye on a troubled superhero.

The fight didn't last long and soon the boy fell back to the ground, breathing heavily as he shot one last web towards the only person who stayed - surprisingly, he hadn't bothered to go after the runaways, but I supposed it wasn't important to him. He tore through the box that had been tightly clenched to the lone stray's chest, then gave a barely audible gasp as he learned it was empty. However, he seemed to pay it no mind, and turned away, raising his head and mumbling curses under his breath that his beloved Aunt would not be happy about. 

I sighed and turned away, readjusting the uniform that coated my lithe frame and began to make my way out. I didn't bother to wait around; my job was done, and it was my turn to return back to my keeper victorious and thus reap my reward. Not that a reward with Inga was really anything more than the gift of eating that night, but it would be enough for me.

"Who are you?"

I turned immediately back and stared at the unmasked boy, who had finished the job and stood amongst the 'parcels', doe eyes widened at the sight of me. Apparently, he had much better vision than any of us imagined, and although every bit of skin was covered, he still now knew that while he fought there was a figure watching him - a figure about his size and height.

The boy stepped closer, floorboards creaking more and more each time, arms outstretched as if he was soothing a wild deer in risk of bolting away. "Okay, wait, hold on, I don't mean you any-"

Before he could finish his sentence, I was whirling away to flee, flinging myself off of the railing and onto the fire escape, hopping down thrice and then into the street below. I landed badly with my ankle throbbing as it hit the pavement, but the pain was ignored and I kept running - it was not the time to be a child and cry about a scratch. The more important task in my hands was getting away from Peter, preferably, all in one piece. I could worry about a surface wound later.

"Hey!" the boy called, whizzing through the air behind me. He seemed to be over the initial shock factor thrown when he saw me and was now hot on my heels, yelling almost illegible words into the wind. "Wait!"

Foolish boy; as if anyone in their right mind would just turn right back around after hearing that. I sneered, glancing back just to pace myself, and kept going, sliding around a corner and trying to figure out the best route to get out of here. He was faster than me with the aid of his webs, and I didn't have much of a chance of outrunning him - not if I wasn't careful.

"Who...are...you?"

Peter didn't seem to grasp the idea of a chase, apparently.

A surprised shriek flew out of my mouth as I was knocked to the pavement; the boy, finally coming to at least one of his senses, had pushed into me and knocked me to the ground, quickly tumbling down after. I rolled away and readied fists, hurriedly scanning the alley we had rolled into for a way out - which, unfortunately, didn't lead to many options.

"Wow," the boy wheezed, getting up from his position. He staggered a bit before shaking his head and raising hesitant fists. "You're...you're good."

I didn't answer his passing comment, still backing away. My eyes didn't leave him, but it was out of wariness and not curiosity, for though Peter Parker was a kind, quiet, shy soul who wouldn't hurt a fly - from what I knew, at least - Spiderman was a whole other story. The fact that I was a cloaked figure with no features showing didn't help my case much either, especially after watching him take care of criminals time and time again.

"Okay, let's make a deal, cool? How about you explain what you want from me and why you were sitting in the corner watching me - which, not gonna lie, sort of creepy - and then we can go on our merry ways? I mean, as long as you're not a criminal?"

I shook my head slowly, finally figuring out a plan - a risky one, but one that would work with proper precision. "No."

The boy's eyes narrowed, and he straightened his back, now tense. "Wait, what? What does th-"

He never finished his words, for in an instant he was pushed away and slammed against the alley wall. Not enough to hurt him permanently, but it gave me time to rush away, whirling around the corner just as he would come to his senses. He'd, of course, come to get me, but that was to be expected.

Just as he emerged, I grabbed ahold of the red and blue and forced the figure down to the ground. Before he could fight back, I flipped over him and straddled his struggling torso, pinning his arms and legs down. The boy, though he tried, couldn't move a single bit.

He stared up at me, panting the slightest bit but bubbles of laughter echoing through the messily made mask. "You know...this is an interesting position to be in."

As the words tumbled from his mouth in gasped wheezes, I realised what he was alluding to and immediately turned bright red under the thick fabric covering my face. I lifted myself off the boy but didn't relent my hold, instead pinning him down with my legs and locked arms. "Back off."

"Who are you?" was his only grunted response, curiosity in his voice. "Why do you...do I know you?"

"No," I hissed, before twisting away from the boy. "Just back off."

"Spiderman doesn't just 'back off'; he - I - can't let you hurt anyone."

I hesitated, standing several feet from the crumbled boy, who was now staggering up off the ground. He didn't seem eager to give up the fight, despite the obvious exhaustion and slight pain dealt by me plaguing his body. He was right; Spiderman never backed up, not if he could do something to help. Or, at least, what he viewed as helping.

Stepping closer, my gaze didn't stray from his face. "I will kill you."

"No, you wouldn't."

He sounded so certain, and that made me almost break; the earnest innocence heavy in his voice was so pure, and so believing in me and my inability to hurt him. However, he was wrong; I had done it so many times it would just be a force of habit, and if he wasn't valuable to Inga, he'd be dead. Peter Parker could believe all he wanted, but that didn't change the truth.

With one quick move, I swung forward and brought my hands down on his legs, tearing him to the ground once more. From there I hit deliberately and carefully, making sure not to deal permanent damage but enough to leave him out of order for a while. He fought back, swinging just as hard, but in his weakened state there was not much hope on his side, and he fell easily.

I stole one last look at the boy on the ground, remorse flooding my chest in a way I hadn't felt before. Still, I turned away; it was what needed to be done for the good of us all. He'd be fine tomorrow or even mere hours from now, at least; his abilities were good for that much. I needed to run as soon as possible before he followed.

My hair tumbled out in a rush of mussed up curls and sank like a weight around my shoulders, crowning me a dark princess of the night as my hoodie turned into a bundled fistful of fabric in my hand. I smoothed myself out and tried to adjust the 'normal' clothing hiding beneath the black, eager to avoid any curious looks at my appearance. I did not think there would be any at so late at night but one couldn't ever be too sure.

As I bolted away, heading safely back to my 'home', my run came to a jolting stop as the phone by my side began buzzing. It was Peter, funnily enough, and I frowned; it hadn't even been five minutes since I left, he couldn't have been fine just like that. "Hello?"

"Hey, uh, Em - wait, is it okay if I say that? Sorry if you don't like that, Emily works too-"

"-it's fine, Peter. What is it?"

He laughed, but it was more than obvious the pain he was in. "Always getting straight to the business. Look, are you busy?"

"Busy? No, I was just..." I looked around anxiously, searching for a passable excuse, "sleeping?"

"At one in the afternoon?"

"It was a, um, late night. What do you need?"

The boy's voice softened with his sigh, and suddenly he sounded more like a lost little boy than a crime-fighting spider. "I need your help. Can you come find me?"

I ducked away from view as someone emerged to throw out their garbage, lowering my voice so as not to be heard. "Of course. Where are you? Are you okay?"

"No, I don't think so - it's hard to explain, I'll fill you in when you get here. I just...I just need some help with something."

His voice made my heart ache, something I hadn't felt from someone in a long time; he sounded so alone and broken and ashamed for asking for me. I almost felt bad for doing that to him. "Y-yeah, I'll find you. I'll just get ready, and I'll be there soon - when I need you to, just describe where you are. Don't get off the phone, okay, Peter?"

"Okay."

I sighed and ran my hand through messy curls, turning around to head back from where I just came, just for very different reasons. 

Inga wasn't going to be too pleased.

I'm sort of iffy on the ending, but I actually like this chapter- I know, what a surprise on my part, but it's going to lead to some fun stuff. Which, yes, okay, I say that every single time I update it seems but I swear y'all will like where this goes, at least at first.

Before anyone gets pissy about Peter losing the fight and all that, let me just remind you that this is an AU set between CACW and Homecoming. He's not as strong as he was in Hoco and hell, even in the movie, he wasn't Superman, he couldn't do everything. Emily/Freya hadn't just fought off a group of guys and she had trained since she was barely walking [okay maybe a tiny bit of an exaggeration] and so while he did have skills, she had better stamina and strength control. Also, he wasn't trying to hurt her, as you'll learn in the next chapter, which is why he didn't do anything huge. Just wanted to clarify and explain why it resulted in that. There'll be more information on that later on.

Thank you for reading!