TW: mentions of murder, mentions of trauma

I drove through the streets of Queens as I tried to find the destination of my interview. I pulled over across the street from the house and sighed as I looked out of the car window. It was obvious from the trash bags in the street and the abandoned buildings that this was a bad area, not that any area of Queens could be considered to be good anymore. No wonder the woman's poor son had been murdered. I got out of my car and tightly clutched my bag as I walked to the house and gently knocked my fist against the door. After a moment, it opened to reveal an elderly woman.

"Hey there, I'm Y/N Y/L/N from the Queens Daily, I was told that you'd be expecting me." I nodded.

"Of course, sweetie, I'm Helena Crawford, lovely to meet you. Please, come in, these streets aren't as safe as they used to be." She chuckled weakly as she gently took my hand and pulled me into the house. I gave her a small smile and shut the door behind me before letting her pull me into her living room.

"You have a lovely home, Mrs Crawford." I nodded, looking around the admittedly dated living room as I sat on the sofa.

"It's okay, honey, you don't have to lie. In nineteen-fifty, it was lovely. Now, it looks like an antiques shop in here." She chuckled, making me give her a sympathetic smile as she placed a tray with a teapot and mugs on the coffee table before sitting down opposite me.

"Before we start, I know that this goes without saying, but I'm so sorry for your loss. No parent should be forced to outlive their child, especially because of murder." I nodded. She sighed and gave me a thankful smile.

"It's the way of the modern world, isn't it? The burglars broke in because they needed the money from selling my possessions to make ends meet, and my son died because he tried to stop them. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there." She scoffed. I nodded along as I wrote down her words in my notebook.

"I was told that the police haven't exactly met expectations when it comes to them investigating your son's murder." I spoke.

"That's an understatement, if I've ever heard one. When the break-in first happened and my son was killed, almost two weeks ago now, they obviously came in, collected what little evidence there was, talked to whoever believed that they witnessed the crime, and then left. I got given a card with a phone number on it, and got told not to get my hopes up. I suppose that in that way, they completely met my expectations. After all, they said that they'd call me if they got anything, but my phone hasn't rang once in fourteen days. Pitiful, really." She scoffed again quietly and shook her head. I sighed and returned it, trying to appear as empathetic as I felt as I continued to write notes.

"Do you have anything more to add?" I asked, my eyes on my notebook.

"My son would still be alive if Spider-Man had shown up." My eyes wavered and I looked back up at her as she uttered those words. I gulped and opened my mouth to speak but quickly found that I had no words.

"Mrs Crawford...Spider-Man has been gone for five years." I nodded. She looked at me.

"I know, I know. But he stopped my house from being burgled, what, six years ago? I don't know, I hoped that he'd show up again. Is that selfish? To hope that he'd show up again to save a little old lady and her son, out of all people?" she asked. I sighed and raised my hand as I tried to subtly wipe away the tear that had fallen from my eye.

"No. It's not selfish at all. Thank you for your time." I nodded, forcing a smile onto my lips as I stood up and grabbed my stuff.

I sat in my cubicle in the office, adding the finishing touches to my article about Helena Crawford before sending it to press. I flicked my eyes over my notes, them stopping at one sentence in particular:

My son would still be alive if Spider-Man had shown up.

My eyes wavered, the now familiar empty feeling filling my heart as I looked back at my computer screen. I knew that I would get in trouble if I put that fact in, given that it undermined the police and especially because Mr Jameson made no secret about the fact that he was glad that Spider-Man was gone, but I didn't care. I typed out the final paragraph, my fingers tapping quickly against the keys on the computer:

Mrs Crawford's last words to me on the subject of the crime committed against her and her deceased son, were that her son would still be alive if Spider-Man had shown up. Whilst these may be considered to be the sorrowful words of a saddened mother who lost her only child, they can also be seen, and potentially should be seen, as representing the Queens population who felt like they had lost part of the city that they loved when they lost the superhero that they loved. Maybe, Helena Crawford's son would still be alive if Spider-Man was still here, and had intervened at the man's final hour. I, for one, believe that he would be.

I pressed "save" and sighed, sinking back into my chair at the prospect of the paragraph being published. I knew that Mr Jameson would almost certainly remove it, after all, he didn't want his reputation as 'head of the paper who hates Spider-Man' to be ruined. But no harm would come of me leaving it in. I sighed as I sat back up and tapped my fingers against the wood of my desk as I opened the internet tab and let my fingers type 'Spider-Man' into the search engine. I gulped, my eyes wavering as the first few pages were full of articles about when he had gone missing, and the superhero-sized hole that had been left in Queens. I clicked on a random article, the blinding words 'Spider-Man dead?!' making the empty feeling in my chest progressively worse. I read through the article, though I didn't really take in the words as I rested my chin against my propped-up hand and let my mind start to wonder.

I walked along the school hallway and towards the double doors along with the other hundreds of students who were also rushing to get out of the hell that was high school.

"Y/N! Hey, wait up!" I turned around and gave MJ a smile as she jogged towards me.

"I thought that you and Petey-boy had a date." I teased, making my best friend chuckle at the use of the nickname.

"We did, but he has extra-curricular activities." She nodded. My eyes widened and I looked at her.

"Girl, don't tell me that you let your boyfriend cancel a date for some after-school club." I scoffed.

"No, it's not like that. It's fine, what he's doing is important, it's okay." She reassured. I sighed and nodded as we walked down the school steps and onto the street.

"Oh, my fucking goodness, you'll never believe what I got told today." MJ spoke as we walked along the street.

"Go on." I chuckled.

"A certain Flash Thompson likes you, and is considering asking you out." She smirked. My eyes widened and I choked on my own spit, making MJ laugh as I looked at her.

"What?! Where did you hear that from?!" I exclaimed.

"I overheard him when he was talking to Betty. But he said that he was worried about asking you since you're best friends with Peter." She nodded.

"Fucking right he should be, I would never do that to Peter, not to mention that I barely like Flash as a person, let alone as a boyfriend. Please tell him to not do it, tell him in no uncertain terms that I will one-hundred-percent, unequivocally say no if he asks me out." I whined.

"I might not, just to see him get shot down, because I would pay to see that shit." She smirked.

"Michelle?!" I exclaimed.

"I'm joking, okay, okay, I'll tell him not to ask you out, I've got you covered." She chuckled. I sighed in relief.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." I nodded before looking across the street.

"This is my street, so I'll see you later." I spoke as I started to walk backwards into the road so that I could still look at MJ.

"See you later." She chuckled before looking at me. Suddenly, her eyes widened.

"Y/N, LOOK OUT!" I looked to my side and my eyes widened as a car sped towards me. I screamed and squeezed my eyes shut, determined to block out what was about to come as the car hurtled towards me. Suddenly, a muscular arm wrapped around my waist and picked me up from the street, making me scream again as I held onto the figure's neck for dear life. I didn't dare look up as I felt the wind whip through my hair, telling me who I'd been saved by. The superhero landed and I sighed in relief as my feet made contact with the ground again. I looked up slowly, my educated guess being confirmed as I came face-to-face with the famous metal spider on his chest, as well as the red and blue spandex. I smiled sheepishly as I looked up at the masked hero.

"I should have looked before crossing." I stated, making Spider-Man chuckle and nod, his hands still on my waist.

"Yeah, you probably should have done. At least you're okay." He nodded.

"Thanks to you, Spidey." I chuckled. He returned it and shrugged, removing his hands from me as he took a step back.

"Eh, it's all part of the job." He spoke as he raised his arm and fired a web at the bridge above us, making me look up as he shot up and onto the bridge. I smiled and bit my lip, knowing that this wasn't an experience that I'd forget quickly. Not that I wanted to.

I snapped out of my thoughts and brought myself back to the sad reality in which one of my best friends was dead, the other was potentially dead, and so was Spider-Man. What a fucking time to be alive, I thought as I grabbed my bag and stood up, ready to get out of the shit hole that was the office and go back instead to the shit hole that was my apartment.