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𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌 𝐸𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔?

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Spiderman blinked as he stared up at the ceiling of the container. Only seconds ago, he'd pulled himself from the heap on top of Split and laid on his back, letting out a breath he must have been holding for hours.

The newly-named voice of his suit rang through his ears. "Is that Split?"

"Yeah, Karen. He's cool. He can teleport."

What an underwhelming way to describe someone who- after Mr stark, of course, he must have admired most in the world. It was not simply his teleportation abilities that Spiderman was in awe of, but his composure, and the ease at which he could stride into a situation and handle it without panic. Earlier that evening had been a perfect example, in Spiderman's eyes at least. Split had popped up in mid-air, gained his footing, and began to fight immediately while he hadn't even passed the training wheels programming on his suit.

"He's on Mr Stark's systems, his real name is-"

"Yeah, I don't need to know that!" Spiderman said quickly, floundering to cover his ears with his palms as if it would make a difference. "I'd rather he didn't know who I was either."

"If I were him. I wouldn't be disappointed."

"Thanks, Karen." He let out a sigh, glancing over to the slumped figure of his friend on the floor, watching the steady rise of his chest. At least he knew he was alive. "It's all my fault. He's going to hate me for dragging him into it all."

Spiderman stood, narrowly missing the roof with his head as he kicked his feet around.

"I always make the cool guys hate me."

A groan erupted from the other end of the container. "If you keep babbling like that I might end up hating you, but not yet."

Split pulled himself to a sitting position, his hand cradling his head. The beating of his heart, the pounding of his veins, was loud in his ears. So loud that he almost missed the panicked words of the boy who rushed his way.

"Are you alright?" Spiderman said quickly, crouching down to his level. "You took a hit."

It was only as his body was hit with the warmth of another, that he realised how cold he'd been. The suit was obviously not frost-proof, as he'd imagined it to be. It didn't help that he was lying on the floor of a metal container, the doors opened into a large warehouse.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Split placed his hand against his head again, feeling the weight of it drop against the aid of his wrists, unable to support himself. His own body felt tender as if each touch against his skin was equal to the jabbing of tiny needles. Even his suit was uncomfortable- the mask even more so.

"Yeah. I can feel it," he said, finally opening his eyes to see Spider-Man walk away as he mumbled an apology.

Already, within seconds, he missed the heat of the other boy's body and felt himself shiver, hands rubbing swiftly over his forearms.

"It's fine. It's fine," he said hurriedly, waving him away. "Where are we?"

He considered the room for a moment of Spiderman paused, his hand reaching to the backpack that was propped up against a shelf. From the glint of purple and blue, it was yet again alien technology, the same type of power that had knocked him clean from the sky, arm wrapped around his partner, only a few weeks ago.

"The most secure facility on the Eastern Seaboard. The damage control deep-storage voice," he said, his voice sounding as if he was copying someone else's words. Split didn't question him. "It's locked up as tight as Buckingham Palace."

Split grinned as he staggered onto his feet, toppling slightly as his head went faint. A hand caught his arm, steadying him as his own hand caught a metal pole to lean against.

"Spidey?"

The boy's head shot up. "Yeah?"

"You forgetting something?" He was too embarrassed to say anything. "Come on, I can get us out of here."

Spiderman stayed silent as Split lead him from the container, out into the brighter lights of the warehouse, and closer to the severely tall doors across the room. With Split beside him, the journey to the other side no longer seemed so daunting. In fact, he felt stupid that he was ever worried.

Split glanced back to him and he could almost feel the smugness that radiated from him, without even seeing his face. "You're going to have to hold on tight, you know?"

Spiderman stepped closer to him gingerly, his toned arms, sliding beneath his arms, encompassing his waist, so slowly that Split held his breath. His mind reached forward, picturing the other side of the door, and he hoped to God that he wasn't too far. But, as he urged himself forward, readying his body to pull him through the unknown with Spiderman at his side, nothing happened. His stomach lurched, the sudden shoot of pain along his neck sending him staggering backwards.

He didn't know whether it was the ache in his head or the distraction caused by the boy, that stopped him from teleporting. Either way, for a moment, it scared him.

"Sorry. Give me a second," he said, bringing his hand to nurse his head again. He waved spiderman away. "I'm fine."

"Clearly," the boy said, undoubtedly rolling his eyes beneath the red mask. "You're not bleeding, are you?"

"I don't know," Split breathed as Spiderman brought his hand to touch the back of his head. "I can't take the mask off." He shook his head, watching as his hand dropped. "Mr Stark would kill me."

"I know. That's okay."

He nodded once again and swallowed. "Let's try now."

In one swift movement, Split lurched forward, wrapping his arms around the boy, sending them tumbling backwards, skimming through the darkness, blinded by the flashes of other-worldly colours. He gave himself no time to think, no time to contemplate. It was the only reason he could make the cross, teleporting to the other side, landing on the other side of the door in a heap amongst long stalks of grass, arms still tangled around the waist of his friend.

They were quiet for a moment, chests heaving to catch a breath.

"Sorry," Split said, looking away. "It's the head. I can't think straight."

It was only then, that he noticed the brightness of the day, the close-by hum of a motorway of cars. "I need to go."

"Me too. I need to get back," Spiderman said as he got to his feet abruptly. "I guess this is bye."

Split tilted his head. "Not for long, I bet."

"So your suit can tell if I'm in trouble?"

"It must be the AI sensor," he said, remembering the sharp buzz he'd felt against his wrist. "Well, at least now you know if you're losing you've got me to boost the scores."

☀︎︎

Eddy stared back at himself in the mirror of his hotel room. The suit unfurled from his skin, dissolving back into its place in the band around his wrist. As he lifted his hand to touch the back of his head, he almost expected his reflection not to follow. Something about the situation felt surreal. One moment he was embarrassed about his attempt at doing something with Peter, and the next he was fighting Vulture with spiderman, knocking himself out in the process. The only thing the two circumstances had in common, was that they both failed.

He glanced down at his fingers. Flakes of dried blood had rubbed off from his head, but the injury seemed to be little more than a surface room. Each part of him still ached- physically and mentally- but the chances of having a concussion were low. He hoped at least. Eddy brought a damp cloth to brush against his hair, wiping away the crimson residue until it was undetectable.

Hurrying downstairs, Eddy found his classmates near the front entrance, milling around each other like excited bees. Somewhere, without seeing him, he could Abe shouting about their victory, and it was clear by the beaming looks on their faces that he spoke true.

"Eddy! There you are! Did you see it?"

"I did, you were amazing."

"I'm glad you could come, even when you're ill," Liz said. She let out a satisfied sigh as she looked around the group. "Next year, this could be you."

Ned frowned. "You don't look so good, you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, brushing them off. "Where's Peter?"

"Peter didn't show."

"Yeah, Flash had to take his place."

"Told you we didn't need him," Flash said smugly, only to be shot down by Ned.

"Flash you didn't answer a single question!"

"He lost us points, but it worked out in the end," Liz said, her arms folded across her chest. "Still, if you see him, tell him we're all annoyed."

Eddy frowned. "I'll go look for him. I'm the spare, you go get the trophy," he said. "You deserve it."

"Thanks, Eddy."

Last he'd seen of Peter was when he'd been heading down toward the business centre. Surely, he couldn't have gone far. Still, Eddy worried. The ache in his head made it hard to concentrate- and the odd thought of a danger-prone Spider-Man certainly didn't help.

This time, he saw the light- somehow both dull and bold at the same time- flashing beneath the arm of his jacket, before he felt the buzz. The sharp zap hit his wrist as he turned over his hand, feeling around the band, showing the sight he knew would be there. Someone was calling for him.

"Already?"

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