#he ran past me in front row brooklyn too but he wasn’t top speed yet

[noxexistant]

front row of manhattan was the best purely for the experience of having morris ZOOM directly in front of me at full speed

he literally looks like

[alldayangst]

love someone for loving you (Peter Parker)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. Soulmate and uni AU.

PAIRING: Peter Parker x reader, Brad Davis x reader (for like, a second)

Warnings: Makeout sessions. Characters drink but they’re of age to do so in this fic. Peter says ACAB and if you disagree with that & can’t have a mature convo about it, then this isn’t the blog for you. This fic isn’t all the way accurate to the MCU timeline. Harry [Osborn] and MJ live in Queens. Betty, Flash, Ned, Brad, Peter and reader all attend NYU in Brooklyn.

Thank you for reading if you make it all the way to the end! Word count: 4.2K words.

Happy reading!

“You’re so fucking hot, y’know that?” You were making out with Brad in your dorm room, with the lights off. Brad was a nice enough guy. Had taken you out on a few dates. Told you your hair was pretty. Said he’d like to get to know you more. But you’re not as eager to take things further because something in your heart just knows he’s not your soulmate. And you’d like to wait a little while for the novelty to wear off before you did something you regretted and entered a relationship you’d known was doomed from the start. “So fucking hot.” Brad kissed along your neck, big sloppy wet ones that left saliva trails from his lips to your neck. 

You didn’t like that kind. 

And that was another reason you knew you and Brad weren’t destined, because your soulmate would just know what you like, know you like the back of their hand. Right? Right.

It’s then that Brad tries to take your jumper off, but your soulmate tattoo is on your ribcage, and in this world, letting someone see your soulmate tattoo is probably makes you more vulnerable than getting naked in front of them. You try to pull your jumper down, but Brad doesn’t get the hint and tries again. You place your hands on his chest. “Not today, Brad.”

You don’t see Brad again. And maybe Brad was your soulmate because he led you to Peter. But Peter definitely wasn’t your soulmate, and I’ll tell you why you know that.

“Y/N!” Betty waved as you stumbled back into the party, shoes placed on improperly and no part of you subtle to what you’d been doing with Brad in your room just a few minutes ago. “Not you out of your room so early!” Your room door slammed behind you as Brad left your room, jacket in hand.

“Didn’t get any?” Betty made a fake pout at you, smoke breezing past her face as you stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do as you found yourself in a circle with two of Betty’s friends she’d had yet to introduce you to. Sometimes, you wished Betty was your soulmate, but Betty made it clear before you signed the lease that you weren’t her type and truly, you couldn’t see yourself being anything more than friends. And you were the best of friends. Meaning she’d always be the first to comment heart eyes under your pictures and tell you to get that outfit because your booty was doing the thang in that pair of trousers. 

Things would just be easier, if they were easy.

But things weren’t handed on a silver plate for you like they were for others; where they’d been friends with their soulmates since childhood, or lived up the street from them or their soulmate saved their life or something else blindly obvious. And, desperate to find the gold in the treasure chest, you moved upstate to school at NYU. Because great minds and all that. You stood in perfect silence for a minute, chaos never ceasing to happen around you, before Betty decided to make the strangers next to her strangers no more. One shook your hand and said, “I’m Ned.” Oh. So this is who Betty had been raving about? Betty grimaced and placed her hands together to plead with you not to expose her consuming infatuation with her new boyfriend. In a bid to divert the focus, Betty patted the back of the slightly taller one next to Ned, with wispy brown hair and eyes like fresh, raw cocoa. “I’m Peter, nice to meet you.” He shook your hand.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you guys.” You sway your attention back to Ned with a smirk on your face, Betty clutching her solo cup a little too hard, her inner monologue begging you to knock it off. You knew Betty was going to get you back for this, but you needed somewhere else to fixate your gaze since you weren’t sure you could trust yourself not to ogle at Peter. With Brad’s saliva on your neck and having only known him for all of twenty seconds, you weren’t sure if Peter would take to any romantic advances. You weren’t even sure if he’d met his soulmate. “So, I’ve heard a lot about you, Ned.”

“All good I hope.” Ned replies and the room glints with his boyish grin.

“Well-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence, and it was probably for the better. Betty grabbed Ned’s arm, vodka making tiny puddles on the floor, with a huge fake smile plastered on her face. In turn, that only gave you a great, genuine smile, loving to tease your friend. “Baby! We should go to another side of the party!”

“What about Peter?” Ned’s voice was getting lost in the jungle of party goers. “Peter can come.” Peter turned to go follow his friend, but not before mumbling a low, “See you around, Y/N.”, snaking his arms around your back, pulling you in for a quick hug. “See you around, Peter.” 

He didn’t reply. Peter could only give you a thin lipped smile, packaged with a lazy half-nod before he was absorbed by the population around him, just as his friend was. And you cursed yourself that night for not taking your chances and saying more.

History was an 8am class, your only class in the morning. You woke with a a dull ache in your head and a dark mark on your neck that lasted longer than your relationship with the guy that gave it to you. The last thing you wanted was to run into Brad. But destiny offered you the next best thing.

“Oh. Hi, Flash.” You attempted to cover your face with your copy of Romeo & Juliet - if your soulmate was here, the last person you wanted them to see you with was Flash Thompson. Flash was walking backwards as you were walking forwards, unamused by his efforts to corner you. “Can we talk, Y/N?” Flash was Brad’s best friend, so you knew you were in for trouble.

“Can’t Brad speak to me himself? His mouth was working last night.”

“I can see that Y/N. Nice hickey.” You cringed, and Flash could tell he was running out of time to bemuse you. “Brad doesn’t want to bother you if you’re not interested-”

“Oh, so you decide to bother me instead.” You remark, and hop over a couple of steps so Flash had to awkwardly speed up.

“I just wanted to ask where you and him stood. Like, are you breaking up with him? I thought you had a pretty good thing going on.” His pace started to slow again as you slowly ascended up some of the last sets of steps. “I mean, seriously Y/N? What if you guys were soulmates? I wouldn’t wanna give up so easily.”

“That’s true.” You looked down at your sneakers. You hated this version of the world you lived in. Everything was driven by concepts, whether it be the concept of soulmates or the concept of time that left your campus filled with students five years older than they really were, or the concept of good and evil that spawned superheroes who you weren’t sure did more damage to the world than they gave back.

Overall, the concept of fate was once you had to always wrestle with. And you thought that maybe yours was standing at the top of the steps to rescue you from this conversation, ready to make Brad feel the trip of the guilt he and his friend tried to make you feel for not feeling the same way. “Y/N! We have class, c’mon!” Peter waved his goggles at the top of the steps, a knowing smile on his face as Flash looked up at him and glared. 

Peter just had to steal his thunder on a sunny day.

You ran to meet Peter at the top of the steps. “Thank you for bailing me out. You’re a hero.”

Peter was startled. “Who, what, when, where, me?” He scratched the back of his neck and gave you an uncomfortable, stammered loop of laughter. “Hero? Not me. I’m just good ol’ Peter.”

You chuckled as you breathed out another ‘thank you’ and returned the hug Peter had left un-exchanged last night. “I’m guessing you have bio?”

“Guilty as charged. So what’s your major?”

“English Lit.”

“Oo, how long are you planning to work at Starbucks?” Peter remarked as he held to the main door open for you. “Peter?” He hummed in response. “Fuck you.”

You sat next to Betty in History, the professor droning on about something that made you question why you continued to take History, but as your best friend snatched your book from you, you were reminded. “Star crossed lovers, eh?” Betty skimmed through the fights and the love scenes that all culminated to the uncertainty whether Romeo and Juliet were even supposed to be together. 

“Seems like you and Ned these days, huh.” You couldn’t believe that it had taken Betty three months to allow you to meet Ned, nevermind his cute friend. Ever since the ‘boyfriend’ label had been slapped on their little love affair a month and a half ago, you were beginning to see less and less of your best friend. It felt like two people paying for a single household, and with your lease ending in a short time, you worried Betty would almost evaporate from your life completely.

“Almost.” Betty tried to keep it hush, sheepishly grinning, but gave in completely in record time. “We said we’re gonna show each other our tattoos tonight!” She squealed, another student shushing her from the row above.

“Woah, that’s big!” It genuinely felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you. You realised you’d never gotten as far as Ned and Betty without either you or you partner showing your soulmate tattoo; and when they were never the same, you broke it off. “What if they’re not the same?”

“They will be.” Betty smiled. “I’m sure of it.”

Two loners getting together was never a recipe for success. Betty had given over your number to Ned, who handed it over to Peter, who’d texted you asking for you to come over: ‘wanna make it up to me for this morning at the steps? my bestie is with your bestie, so u wanna get pizza? do you like pineapple?’ 

Sure enough, you were over at Ned & Peter’s within ten minutes, Peter swinging the door open dressed in a tight red and blue top, a hoodie sparsely covering it, with an overexcited greeting of “Mi casa es su casa!”

The energy wasn’t returned. Not just yet. You had to be sure of something first. “Don’t tell me that there’s an American flag top under that hoodie.” Peter looks down at his Spidey suit which he’d completely forgotten he had on between scaling the ceiling in anxious anticipation of your text back. “Having such a boner for the USA is kind of a turn off.”

Peter started cussing under his breath and quickly turned to zip his hoodie all the way up. When he turns back to you, it’s word vomit. “I’m not saying I don’t love this country, I mean, I love Queens. I mean-”

You raise your eyebrows, curious to see where Peter would go with this. “The NYPD fucking hates me,”

“And what would they want with your little ass?” You walk into the apartment. He’d never admit it, but Peter kind of likes the way you bust his balls. It puts him on the spot, makes him want to tell the truth to you about who he really is.

“I mean, I can’t really say-”

“OK. I don’t wanna be an accessory to anything so,” You laugh. “I won’t push. ACAB.” There’s a thud that follows you closing the door. 

“I agree. ACAB.”

A few hours pass with Peter and he’s beginning to unravel. He shows you the photos he’s taken over the years, several of them featuring a fair haired boy you’d never seen around campus before. “Is he your soulmate?”

Peter nearly chokes on the coffee he’d prepared for himself. “No. Harry? In his dreams.” He sets his mug down. “No, uh, that’s my friend. He lives back home in Queens.”

“You say back home like Queens isn’t a 10 minute drive from where we are.”

“Yeah. But it’s not right here.” You weren’t sure if you’d bruised Peter’s feelings, so you move onto another photo. There’s a polaroid that makes a thin pile with another on the table.

It’s the New York City skyline, from all the way up.

“How’d you get a photo from all the way up here?” Peter grabs the photo underneath it, but not before you catch a glimpse. The glossy paper is adorned with an image of a beautiful girl, black necklace around her neck, the scribbles underneath her photo reading ‘MJ, Pre-blip’.

You think this girl is too gorgeous to just be a friend.

But judging by the way Peter reacted when you suggested Harry was the same, you kept quiet. He didn’t want you to see it anyway. 

“I’m really sticky and I climb up walls.” Peter being Peter is relieved he told you the truth, even if you didn’t know it.

“You’re weird, kid.” You thought you were being smooth, but you couldn’t help the way you look at his lips like they hold the answer to every question you’d had in your life.

“Uh-huh. But you like a bit of weird. Maybe Brad was too square for you.”

“Huh?”

“Huh.”

And then when you and Peter kiss, you suddenly understand what poets mean when they call your lips jigsaw puzzles, because yours and Peter’s slot perfectly together. And you get why there’s all these love songs on the radio, and you feel the Earth shift in your mind and you just know this is the unmistakeable indicator that Peter is your soulmate. Another reason you and Peter are destined, when he goes to kiss your neck, it’s like soft little hot touches. 

You liked that kind. 

And a soulmate would just know that, know you like the back of their hand. Right? Right.

Peter rests his forehead on your own, lips swollen. “I don’t want to go anywhere, don’t wanna do anything you don’t wanna do.”

You and Peter cuddle for the rest of the night on his sofa, Ned and Betty doing the same on yours. And the novelty picks back up like clockwork.

“Peter? What if we aren’t soulmates?” you groaned, Peter’s hand on your head, keeping you snug to his chest. You and Peter had been dating close to two months now, Ned and Betty moving to five. In any other relationship, you would’ve called this phase The Ticking Time Bomb. You toyed with the black dahlia that sat perfectly between his pecs. Peter had been to Queens last week. He’d retrieved his necklace from the girl in the photo, MJ. She was an old friend, he said. Him and her? Not meant to be. Maybe in another life, he’d say. Another timeline. Then he’d gesture between the two of you. This. This is meant to be. Us.

Peter shrugged. “What if we weren’t?” Peter had an almost permanent bandage on his ribcage, exactly where your soulmate tattoo was. Where and how Peter got injured was a mystery to you, and he’d never dare tell you no matter how much you pushed. It almost made you wonder if he was keeping any more secrets from you.

You propped yourself up, both hands on his chest. 

“I couldn’t move back in with Betty. She and Ned are soulmates, they need their privacy.”

“Who said you’d ever to move back in with Betty?”

“I couldn’t afford to live by myself, Peter. Not everyone had a Stark internship in high school.”

“Who said you’d have to move out at all?”

“If we’re not soulmates-” Peter moved your hands from his chest and wrapped them around your waist, pulling you in for a loving kiss. “What have I told you? You and me, we’re meant to be. Us.”

But you didn’t have the tattoos to prove it. 

You and Betty were sitting in History class, ignoring the professor’s droning as per usual. Betty had this beaming smile on her face and you were sure if she didn’t say what was on her mind soon, she was going to explode all over someone’s Henry VIII’s notes.

“Betty?”

“Yeah?” She shrieked with scarlet cheeks.

“Spill.”

Betty let out a breath. “Well, since you insisted.” You couldn’t help but smile at your best friend. “I think Ned might propose tonight!”

“I feel like you should be taking me out to dinner before you dump all this load on me.”

Betty’s eyes glazed over, obviously too excited to contain her emotions. “What about you and Peter? The tattoos must match up since you’ve stayed around this long.”

“Actually, I-”

Betty makes an O face at you, which told you she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “C’mon. You haven’t played I’ll Show You Mine if you Show Me Yours?” Betty was in awe. “Y/N! You must really like him.” 

You did really like Peter. That was the issue. You weren’t ready to feel jaded if your tattoos didn’t match up like they all inevitably did in the past. You felt something different for Peter. Betty was right. That was why you stuck around this long. “Hey Betty, is my old room still my room if things between me and Peter don’t work out?”

“Of course, Y/N! I’m here for you til’ the end of the line.” Betty pulled you into a great, big hug.

“OK. Session dismissed.” Your professor echoed. “Everyone can go. Y/N and Betty, stay after please.”

You’d gotten kicked off of History, which was bittersweet. Seeing as History was Betty’s major, your professor had to keep her there - but he was sure ‘she’d flourish once you two were separated.’  

You and Betty walked out of the main entrance, Ned and Peter both waiting for you under the shelter at the top of the steps. Seasons had changed. It was far from the summer day Peter had to spotted you on the way to class. “We’re gonna run in, drink some cocoa. We’ll catch you guys later.” Ned shivered as Betty re-engulfed him in his jacket she’d been holding for the scent. 

Love was weird, but you wanted so bad to be a part of it.

You turned to Peter beside you. “And what are we gonna do?”

“Swinging.”

“Peter, I don’t swing. I’m perfectly happy in our relationship.”

Peter held onto your waist, your head nuzzled into his neck, not daring to look down at the city below you. This was the first time you’d ever experienced something like this, no doubt, but Peter was getting a strange sense of deja vu.

“Y/N!” You didn’t move from your place in his neck, but he knew you could hear him. “I love you. I trust you.”

“You’re-” You didn’t trust yourself to speak. “Fucking.” You opened one eye just to be sure you weren’t dreaming. “Spiderman!”

“I’m something more important: your boyfriend.”

Leave it to Peter Parker to get all sappy with you in the middle of the sky. 

You opened both your eyes now. “What about my soulmate?”

“What?” Startled, Peter lost controls of his webs for a moment, and knocked his rib on the side of a building. Luckily for you, you were lower to the ground.

‘Injury detected,’ Peter’s AI, Karen, stated.

“Yeah, I know, Karen.” Peter stated.

“Is it right there, babe?” Peter nodded, sat on the concrete, and pressed the spider in the middle of his suit. You watched as it became loose.

Your eyes flickered to the bandage on his ribcage. Maybe you had your answers as to how Peter always seemed to be hurt, but you needed your ultimate answer. And it was behind the bandage. “Right here, are you sure babe?”

You were on edge. You weren’t sure what you’d do if fate didn’t allow this to be true. For the sake of your heart.

So you peeled back the bandage.

And you found nothing there but a series of bruises. Your heart was crushed. “Nothing, Peter. There’s nothing there.” You had tears in your eyes, and before long you were ugly crying. This wasn’t a case of the novelty wearing off. This was a case of the novelty being broken down ‘til it can’t function no more.

“That’s a good thing baby, maybe I just need to go to a hospital.”

“No, I mean it Peter! There’s nothing there!” You pull up your heart to reveal a half full shirt printed on your body twenty one years ago, this exact heart only belonging to one other person in the world. But it wasn’t Peter. Even though he had just told you he loved you. “Fuck!” Your voice became incomprehensible, drowned out in tears and squeaks of sorrow. “I’m so sorry, but we can’t see each other any more. T-there is someone out there for me. You need to understand.”

And, unsure if your legs would take you all the way, you made your journey to Betty.

When you made it to Betty’s, she stood in the doorway with a rock on her finger. You couldn’t see that, though, through your tear blurred vision.

“Oh, poor baby.” She immediately embraced you, with Ned circling to your side to group hug you. You sniff into her shoulder. “He’s not-we’re not-”

“My darling.” She pauses. “I’m hoping you got the first month’s rent.” She laughed and you laughed before she pulled you back in her embrace and allowed you to feel what you needed to feel.

It’s often underestimated how miserable you need to be in order to cry yourself to sleep. You didn’t even know you did until you woke in your old room, your old band poster replaced by a calendar titled ‘Ned and Betty Forever’ and you laughed because Ned and Betty hadn’t even known each other longer than than six calendar months.

And you missed your windowsill on which you’d perch and overlook the breathtaking view of Brooklyn, and the even more awe-inspiring view of NYU students hurling after one too many, especially after yours and Betty’s parties.

“Do you guys even clean this room?” You called out. “You got a serious case of cobwebs.”

Peter lowered himself to meet your view. You were about to draw the blinds on him, only to realise Betty and Ned had gotten them removed whilst you were living with Peter.

“Hear me out.”

“I have no choice.” You chew on the flesh of your cheek. “You took a while to find me.”

“You left me for dead.”

It was hard to beat that one.

“Peter, if you have something to say, say it.”

“I’m sorry.” he’s swinging upside down, side to side and it slightly amuses you to think he’s getting dizzy if the last three months were at your expense. “I know how much this soulmate bullshit means to you, and I kept you longer than you would’ve liked. I’m also sorry ‘cause I knew I wasn’t your soulmate from the start.”

You gasp.

“But I wouldn’t in a billion years say that either you or I belong to someone else. MJ is my soulmate, yes. I love her with all my heart, but I believe destiny can change in the same world where people disappear for five years. MJ moved on. I’ve moved on. Who cares about a stupid tattoo? People go to parlours and give themselves their own all the time. People get them removed all the time. I’m getting my black dahlia erased.” Your face softens a little bit at that, you guard slightly down, but you refuse to wave a white flag without first making your point.

You rubbed your rib cage. “I care.”

“Y/N, you’re smarter than to deny what you feel. You’re an English major, studying Romeo and Juliet. You understand the world better than I do, and I’ve been to 600 different versions of it. You have a heart half full on your ribcage and I have half a flower on my foot. Tell me, would a rose by any other name smell as sweet?” 

You know the answer’s the same one Betty gave Ned tonight when he got down on one knee, the same response you’d give Peter if he was to ask you the same question, what you’d tell anyone if they queried if you’d go through what you went with Peter all over again.

You pull down his mask, and look deep into both of Peter’s eyes, and still him from swinging. “Love someone for loving you for a change.”

And you don’t have to say it, Ned and Betty hiss it out for you not so subtly from the windowsill in the livingroom. “Yes!”

So when you and Peter kiss, it’s not about novelties or concepts, fate or tomorrow, it’s just the beautiful bliss that is love, in this moment.

The unmistakable indicator that you and Peter are meant to be.

Fin.

Credit for the gif goes to: @/tomhollandnet

Masterlist

Upcoming Works

[kingscountycomics]

Twentysix. 6. 'Thirdeye x 3rd-I' (pt. a)

I'm vertically expanding my third eye into the core of the Earth. A lance of imperceptible light, withdrawn from the downward center of everything, now raised upright in a horizontal challenge. Two million unicorns, all parading around daily with varying degrees of stellar self projecting from their frontal lobe. My own spike shooting forth, clearing a path, and drawing onlookers who can't see, but feel my presence.

I'm at the 8th Street subway station over by Astor. On the other side I spot several innocents milling about, on their way home from dinner, drinks, dancing. I suspiciously try to subdue my soul long enough to slip by, escape out on to the streets above where I'll have room to maneuver.

Trains speed along the four rows of tracks between me and the others, and just as the trains pass they make their move. I can't see it from the other side but I know the scene. Eyes glaze over as brainwashing triggers seep into their ears from the headphones of their iWorlds.

The young girl is first across, bounding and leaping between the pillars. She drives her knee towards my face. I slip under as she smashes the tiles, and I make a dash for the stairs. From the corner of my eye I see McAllister has commanded a dozen more civilian assassins with his gadget.

I skid to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. Behind me a slew of flying and leaping attackers. On the top step, a Thai warrior in sandals waits patiently for my first move.

Maybe leaving New Jersey before my powers returned wasn't such a good idea. I should have known it wouldn't be this easy to sneak back into New York City.

As I'm typing this, I suddenly feel my consciousness being sucked through a straw. I warble into being at a bar out in Brooklyn. I glance at my watch and will see that I've been brought through time and space. Only one girl would teleport me to Williamsburg on a Saturday Night...

Megan Strange.

She pops over my shoulder as I think her name. I should have guessed. "It's not time for you in the story yet darlin'..."

"Oh phooey." She waves her hand and schrunches her nose, her pink highlights accenting her freckles. With a snap of her fingers and a smirk she sends me back to finish my story. Her story.

Out in New Jersey I had put my fractured mind back together, my body long since healed. Mentally resurected, I found myself wandering the outskirts of New York City, afraid of what lie in store for me across the Hudson.

My powers were all but gone and I was trying to get them back but it seemed they were temporarily blocked. At least I hoped it was temporary.

I went online so I could speak with other superpowered folks to get a better idea of what was behind all this. Taia Nihilation, the explosive jailbait anarchist who carved a path of destruction through Philadelphia, mentioned something about papaya extract. It worked to a degree but I was still not nearly strong enough to sneak back into my city. A few others from the tri-state area gave me some hints. But impatience got the best of me and within a few months I was trying to sneak back in.

I contacted Eve Impossible, knowing that she would be my best bet for slipping in unnoticed. I had my best disguise on as I went to meet up with her on the Manhattan side of the Holland Tunnel. I hit Canal, made a right, and headed up the stairs to the club.

It was lowkey and still as I searched the room. Odds are she would find me way before I spotted her. Unsure and feeling nervous, I had a beer or two before the dance floor exploded to life. The music was infectiously upbeat and I bounced right into it. I was letting go and celebrated living through the severe beating I received a few months back, just a few stories above this exact location in fact. Ms. Mercury had made it clear I was not welcome here.

But I wasn't thinking of her as I danced. I wasn't thinking of anyone but myself. And that's when Eve appeared before me. We were suddenly moving and grooving and getting down. Our mad passion to dance was spreading to all those around us as the night swung wildly on.

A few hours later we hit the streets as she led me into the empty outside. She doesn't say much and encourages me to do the same. Eve stops in front of an all black sports car as the passenger side door pops open.

"Get in. I'll contact you when I can."

I silently and obediently followed her instructions and plopped myself into the seat. The door shut of its own accord and I watched Eve, her blonde hair whipping behind her as she walked coldly away. I turned to the driver who was just as intimidatingly quiet.

I tried to strike up conversation as I was escorted back through the tunnel, but this man in black would have none of it. He was stone so I gave up and enjoyed the ride. But I felt defeated. I would have to rely on Eve Impossible from this point on.

Knowing our history I was surprised she got back to me as soon as she did. She gave me another place to meet up. I was headed out the door when Daisy Hurricane landed before me. I had ran from her a few weeks earlier as she fought me to love her.

I expected a fight that, despite being a bit stronger than before, I would instantly lose. But instead she wanted to say goodbye.

"I just want to make sure you're safe and that you're good. Use this if there's any trouble." And with that she handed me a red sword. It looked old but felt like a true weapon.

I hugged her tight and we both knew that we'd never see each other again. Tears welled up as the sound of helicopter blades suddenly rose up all around us. Daisy tossed me to safety as the bullets from the attack helicopter started ripping everything to shreds. She had caught a slug or two but felt nothing. Instead she channelled her anxiety, frustration, and broken heart on the attackers above.

Whirling into the air she knocked the copter about, whipping the winds about her. Landing gently on its side she drove her fists through the armor. She waves me off and continues to pound the artillery into scrap. I race off down the block, blood red blade in hand. My powers were pulsating in bursts, surging me forward with each pounce. SUVs screech around the corner, each with mercenaries firing automatic weapons. I grip the sheath and draw the blade.

Leaping and soaring over the hoods of the skidding trucks, I drive the sword slicing through the steel. The cars all flip and crash as I land and roar down the street. The train is blasting its engines as it pounds down the track. I pounce off a lightpost and snag a handhold, tossing myself onto the roof. We're speeding past Main Street as I see the calvary arrive in black, driving off in the wrong direction.

Just a few miles out of NYC I feel a presence behind me. I'm about to glance behind when I smell Strawberries and misfortune. "Megan, not yet. I haven't even made it back into New York yet."

"Can't you hurry it up? I want to go dancing..." I can hear her pout.

"Give me a few paragraphs sweetness."

Back on the tracks the trains bursts into Penn Station. I leap down and wrap the sword in a garbage bag. Suspicious as heck, I make my way to Union Square. Just a few minutes til the meet with Eve. Better hustle.

I'm running all the things I learned from the others I communicated with. Mary Mega's meditational mantra, Dr. Dementia's prescription of pleasure, and Minnie Soda's delicate drunken dance. They used their own magick to enhance and empower themselves. I needed to find my trigger.

Eve was late. Or I was. I shook my watch and looked up and down the block again. Empty. I started getting nervous. The people were what made this city safe. An omnipresent third party; witness and observer.

A petite blone turned the corner. She had her head down, under a hood, but her golden locks hung unevenly from beneath. She felt magical and friendly, even on these dark, foreboding streets.

I opened my mouth to speak but before I could say anything, her fingers shot out, and pressed against my lips. Her subtle twinkling eyes rose up from under the hood, locking onto mine. The moon lit up her serious smile as it transformed into a devilish smirk.

I was sent soaring straight up into the air, hit by some unseen force. She floated up next to me and grabbed me by the collar. She whizzed me around and hurled me into the side of a building a block down. I hit it hard, but grabbed hold of a ledge and hung there gathering my senses.

She zoomed towards me beating her pixie wings furiously. Her fists extended she was intent on finishing me off. I pounce off the side of the building and glide towards a flag pole. I wind up just missing it as I get a shoulder block in the back from the toughest fairy I've ever met.

We're zooming towards the pavement as I roll with the hit, flipping myself onto her back. Clumsily, I jump off as I steer her into the sidewalk. I land and start to run. My muscles start to come alive with kinetic intensity. By the time I reach the corner I'm skipping blocks at a time.

I whipped back around and slid back through Union Square. Crouched and ready for a fight I survey the scene. Eve Impossible is standing alone outside the subway station, her trenchcoat buttoned up and tied tight. The wind is gently churning through the scene.

"What's this about Eve? A double cross? You work for McAllister now too?"

"I'm sorry Charles. But I work on my own. This was a favor for a friend."

The entire area lights up in a golden flash. I'm temporarily blinded but I feel a presence. An oh-so familiar presence.

"Helena...?" I muttered weakly.

My vision came back in waves and Ms. Mercury shimmered to life before me. She was a golden goddess. Pure sensual pulsar sheen radiating all around her body.

Ms. Mercury called out, "Luna!"

The ferocious pixie came and landed on one side of me. She was scowling at me and ready to pounce at Mercury's command.

A fluttering of pigeons signaled the arrival of Raptor who appeared behind me. The four of them had me surrounded at each point. Even though I felt the thrust within me, ready to burst, I would never be able to take on all four. I wouldn't even be able to survive one hit from Ms. Mercury.

Suddenly a winter chill swept through, snowflakes raging down from every direction. The weather malfunctioned and I was sitting in the eye of the storm. A faint brimstone smell was carried away by the winds and replaced with the smell of fruit. Hmm...strawberries?

A female shape materialized beside me and I nearly threw myself off the cube in surprise. I figured she was one more of Mercury's assassins, so I prepared myself for a fight. Instead, this pink streaked, raven haired beauty stood over me armed with only a charming smile.

"Hey cutie. I just thought you could use some rescuing. Wanna come back to my place?"

I did a sweep of the snowy scene and saw that the ladies were about to make their move. I glanced up at my saving grace and nodded frantically.

My stomach lurched and I found myself suddenly sitting on a couch in a living room. The strawberry girl had her legs draped over me. Somehow we were dressed in pajamas and were watching tv.

She looked over at me and said, "Hey sweetness." Her smile was wide and as genuine as they come.

"Where am I?"

"At my apartment in Brooklyn, silly."