Violet Flynn started stealing when she was almost five years old.

Of course, it was an age where she couldn't even form plausible thoughts, so it wasn't like it became a habit at that time. The only parts of the story she knew was what her mother supplied her. They had gone into a simple dollar store for some cheap candy for Violet's fifth birthday party, and without her mother seeing, she had somehow slipped an extra bag of candy in a neon pink purse she adored and carried everywhere. Of course, Lilah Flynn didn't notice until she saw her toddler chomping on candy she hadn't given her in the backseat, but even then, she didn't yell, or even scold her daughter. She walked inside, paid for it, and then drove home.

Lilah Flynn constantly failed to reprimand her daughter, and many could say it's the reason Violet grew up to be the way she did. The older woman was constantly gone, working as a lawyer in the bustling crime-filled city of Queens, so Violet was left alone with nannies until she was fifteen and could care for herself. At twelve, she started sneaking out when the babysitters thought she was asleep. At thirteen, she shoved things in her pockets during the dead of night, so much that it became a nightly tradition.

If you asked the bright-haired teenager why she stole, she'd simply ask you what you meant. She'd never been caught before, her compulsive lying and pickpocketing skills too good to ever be caught in the radar of exhausted, underpaid employees, and she didn't plan on revealing her talent any time soon. Shoplifting gave her a rush that the rest of her life couldn't supply. Not even being a couple slots away from valedictorian or on the ballot for homecoming queen. Two achievements she had been close to winning and lost. Valedictorian would easily be given to the popular Gwen Stacy or nerdy Peter Parker, and homecoming queen? Well, she didn't care to figure out who won.

Vi got good grades and participated in school activities because it kept adults off her radar, and a clean sheet would protect her if she ever got caught. Oh, no, I must have forgotten it was in my hand! I was too busy thinking about the test I had to study for! I am so sorry, Officer, I won't do it again. Ask my mother or anyone who knows me, I am such a good kid.

Pure bullshit. It was genius, really.

It was now that she had painted a good girl act on her face, gallantly strolling her way down the packed hallways of Midtown School of Science and Technology, her bland-colored backpack hanging off of one shoulder as she clutched one textbook and a couple notebooks to her chest. She danced around the students that were too focused on their friends to notice her presence, placing her hand along the back of some athlete that was too busy hassling a girl for her number to look where he was going.

When she arrived at her locker, her face altered into one of distaste at the couple forcefully making out against the ones next to hers. The girl giggled and let out what Violet assumed to be moans, while the boy seemed more focused on getting off without any type of clothes coming off. Her lip pulled into a sneer as she opened her, thankfully, free locker, exchanging her textbook and notebooks for a singular notebook.

Curiosity naturally got the best of her, so when she shut her locker, she looked at the couple again, who still sucked off each other's faces with no regrets or remorse. This time, they were in the way of the one and only Peter Parker, who's face furrowed into a look of distaste matching her own. She watched as he did nothing but squeeze past them, opening his locker just a smidge enough to grab his textbook before letting the weight of the boy's back slam it shut. Without even the slightest of a glance at her, Peter turned and started his way out of the building.

Violet followed him out towards the courtyard, wondering how long it would take the frazzle-minded boy to notice her presence, watching as he stopped just a few feet from the door. She came to stand beside him, her arm a couple of inches from his, glancing at the sight in front of them. It was obvious he was blatantly staring at Gwen Stacy, who sat poised atop a lunch table. Nevertheless, she used his distraction to amplify her shocking entrance.

"What are we staring at?"

Startled by the sudden noise, Peter grabbed his skateboard in both hands, whirling around to face Violet. "Woah! Dude, hey, warning next time? You think?" He raised his eyebrows before letting his skateboard drop right back down to his side, holding on to it by the top of the board. His eyes stared at her in plain confusion, wondering why she was speaking to him. They had never spoken before, even though they had many classes together and took the same way home. 

Despite the weird circumstance, he continued the conversation as if they were friends, eyes turning back to the blonde sitting on the lunch table. "We're not staring at anything."

A laugh escaped her lips at the horrible lie leaving the boy's mouth, not believing a single thing he said, before she simply shrugged. "Okay, whatever you say, big guy. Looks like you were staring at Gwen Stacy, though." Her elbow moved to nudge him in the ribcage, causing him to yelp in surprise and swat at her. She then left him behind to gawk at the weird interaction, making her way towards the crowd of chanting students forming at the other side of the courtyard.

As she got closer, she could make out the words that surrounded her. 'Eat it' was constantly echoed around her, everybody staring at the scene in front of them. Flash Thompson, one of the best jocks and subsequently the biggest dimwit of the tech school, was holding a kid upside down like he weighed nothing, constantly smashing his face into his lunch tray. "Eat your vegetables, Gordon, c'mon," he taunted, the chants from the students just rising in volume.

"God, do kids have nothing better to do?" Violet murmured, glancing around at the scenario. It was then that Flash looked right past her, his face lighting up and an obnoxious grin pulling at his lips. The girl turned around and recognized the features of Peter before looking back at Flash.

He laughed. "Hey, c'mon, Parker, get a picture of this! C'mon! Take a picture of this!" He egged him on, knowing it pissed off the boy just as much as it embarrassed the kid he was holding. Violet clenched her jaw, crossing her arms across her chest. 

The shaggy-haired boy stepped forward, shaking his head. "I'm not taking the picture."

When Flash just prompted him again, he stepped forward again. "C'mon, put him down, man. Put him down. Gordon, don't eat it," he added to the smaller student, his eyes genuinely soft and kind.  Despite the disrespectful thing Flash was doing, he kept his voice calm and soft, something Violet couldn't even dream of doing as she simply watched the scene in front of her unfold.

The jock continued to press Peter, holding Gordon by the neck and the back of his knees, and soon Peter got irritated. "Put him down. Put him down. Put him down, Eugene," he snapped loudly, continuing to stand tall despite the crippling silence that suddenly pushed on both of them. When Flash's eyes glinted in anger, she knew he had hit the sweet spot, and Violet couldn't help but smile at the apparent irritation of the much taller, much more fit boy.

Flash tossed Gordon to the side like he weighed nothing, taking a couple of steps forward to try and intimidate Peter, but he was too stubborn to fall for it. The latter shook his head, stepping forward with a small groan of protest in an attempt to check on the sophomore, who now lay on the ground, curled up in pain.

Sadly, Flash was pissed off enough from the boy first-naming him, and it showed in the nasty right hook that he swung directly at Peter's face, the force knocking him on to the pavement.

Violet flinched in surprise at how quickly the situation turned violent, stepping forward to immediately reach for Flash's windbreaker, as if her tiny hands could pull his meaty self off of the boy she hadn't talked to until that day. "Hey, get the hell off of him, you prick!"

She was simply shoved away with a swat of his hand, and was forced to watch as Peter listened to Flash's taunts to get up, resulting in a hard punch to the gut that left him reeling on the floor again. The jock was obviously out for blood, because as soon as he weakly got on his hands and knees, he sent his foot into his ribcage, knocking the air out of his lungs and rolling him on his back.

Being the sneaky shit he was and quite obviously losing the fight, Peter couldn't help but get one last snarky comment in. "I'm still not taking the picture," he groaned.

After threatening him to stay down, the jock did a nice circle around the fan club he had gathered, trying to pick another fight, as if embarrassing one kid and beating another's ass wasn't enough for him. Violet rushed to Peter's side, helping him scramble to his knees. "Hey, careful, careful," she mumbled.

But he wasn't listening, too busy focusing on the girl that had broken her way through the crowd to scold Flash. Just like that, the unbreakable force that was Gwen Stacy overcame all obstacles. Flash quickly gave up their small, hushed argument, turning to get to class with the crowd subsequently slowly dispersing. Some randoms kicked at Peter's scattered stuff as they walked away, as if he had been the one shoving a kid's face into a tasteless school lunch just moments before.

Peter let out a couple weak coughs, and Violet assumed that every breath probably hurt. He had taken a fist and a foot to the stomach, after all. She grabbed his camera from the ground, not wanting it to get trampled in the mess of hurried students. "Careful," she mumbled again, looking at his face to make sure it didn't look too bad. His lip was painted with a small smear of blood, and she wouldn't be surprised if it left a nasty mark as it healed.

The boy grabbed his camera from her gently, inspecting it to make sure it hadn't been shattered or broken by the heavy feet of the high schoolers, not even worried about his own self in the moment. "I'm okay. Flash is a jerk." He then glanced up at her, staring directly into her eyes. "I do have a question, though."

"Do I look hot, all injured?" He asked, tone deadly serious, much to Violet's disappointment. When she nodded sarcastically, he celebrated with a quiet 'yes!' under his breath, giving her the cheekiest grin he could muster, although he flinched a bit.

Violet stood up and held out a hand for him to grab, helping him up. "You should probably go get that eye checked out, Peter Parker. And that head. It may be large, but I don't think it could possibly cushion three hits to the concrete." Reaching up, she knocked on his head with her knuckles, causing him to gently grab her wrist and pull it away.

He let out a small chuckle, before shaking his head slowly. "Nah, I'm good. Like you said, I have a large head, and an extremely large brain beneath it." He grinned, before his eyebrows slowly furrowed and he tilted his head like a curious puppy. "Say, what's your name?"

The girl cracked her knuckles before holding out her hand. "Violet Flynn."

He placed his hand in hers, shaking it firmly with a corny smile. "Peter Parker."

━━━━

That night, Violet found herself on the dark streets of New York City, her hands shoved in the pockets of her thin jacket. Her fingers played with the handle of the switchblade she kept for protection, twirling it around and around as she watched the barren sidewalk in front of her. Although it was bustling and loud during the day, deep into the night the city was almost vacant, the only noises being the slight buzz of neon 'Open' signs of stores and the roar of a speeding car every once in a while. Sometimes, a group or two of people would make their own way down the street, laughing and enjoying the ability to be themselves without eyes on them.

She kept walking until she found a little convenience store, stepping inside without even thinking. A cheesy song played quietly from the janky speaker in the ceiling, but it was all background noise to the girl as she browsed through the limited aisles. Only necessities and snacks were on display, along with a hefty stock of alcoholic beverages. Her fingers brushed along the wine bottles, which held a thin layer of dust. Not many people went into shitty establishments for high-priced, aging alcohol, only fruity-tasting cans and beer bottles.

Her feet stopped her in front of the refrigerated drinks, suddenly aware of how dry her mouth was. Her fingers closed around the handle before pulling it open, grabbing a water bottle. Without a care, she twisted it open and took a couple of chugs, feeling the cool liquid chill her throat. She pulled it away from her lips before stepping into an aisle, tucking it into her jacket and zipping it up to hide it.

Bored, the bright-haired girl exited the store, not even worried about the crinkling sound the plastic bottle made against her tank top. She pulled it out the minute she was out the door, drinking until it was empty before tossing it into a trash can. Then, she kept walking, no destination in mind and no thoughts in her head. None.

That was a lie. She was thinking. About everything.

Constant thoughts plagued her mind when she went on her nightly walks, mostly about her parents. Her dad had disappeared when she was about ten, no one knowing where he was or where he could be. Not even her mother knew what had happened, and she searched for the man until Violet hit the age where she could actually feel emotions and know what they were. Then, she pulled the broken family together, making it into something that would make the girl forget completely about the absent parent.

Despite her feeble attempts to quit, Violet constantly pondered about her father. Every once in a while, she would remember glimpses of memories, things like the bright lights of a ferris wheel and his deep laugh, and it only made her curiosity peak more. Most of her childhood was suppressed deep into a cavern of her memory, one she couldn't access willingly, but there had to be a reason that she remembered these certain moments. It pulled at her mind, making her eyebrows furrow as she rubbed as her eyes, which stung from the wind.

The harrowing thoughts made her turn around, walking back towards her house. She couldn't do anything sneaky when she was so distracted by things she couldn't control, and the last thing she needed in her life was to be locked up like one of her mother's clients.