AN: Rusty hinges creaked as a door was slowly pushed open. Its mournful cries echoed off of the featureless walls of the small room. From the other side of the door, the cloaked figure winced at the sound, but pushed the door open a little further, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't been followed. His hand unconsciously reached down to pat the knapsack at his hip, as if to be assured it was still there.

It had been difficult to get to this room without being detected, but he had made it. Only a few more steps to go and he would be free.

The cloaked figure finally looked into the room and gave a heavy sigh. The light of the full moon streamed through the doorway from a window on the opposite wall, illuminated the dull walls and the object in the room that the cloaked figure had come for. It shined a silvery glow atop tall, cushioned pedestal. It was a masterfully crafted gauntlet designed with six strange sockets all across the back of the gauntlet's hand, one on each knuckle and one in the center. The figure stood there, as if hesitating, but eventually stepped toward the gauntlet's resting place.

Suddenly, the light from the moon was blocked out. The cloaked figure whirled around only to see a figure that many only witnessed in their nightmares. A second cloaked figure stood before him, but this one had no hood, instead wearing a dark cowl with two pointed horns atop their head. Pale glowing eyes narrowed at him as the very air seemed to hold its breath.

A moment of silence passed before the first figure sighed and straightened up.

"Cut it out. You're not tall enough to pull that off yet."

The second figure let out an annoyed huff before pulling off the bat-like cowl, revealing the pouting face of Nora Valkyrie.

"You're no fun, March," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "You're supposed to be helping out Puddin right now."

"I… I'm sorry, Nora," said March4fun as he lowered his hood. "I just can't do it right now."

"Not with that attitude," said Nora, giving him a smile that desperately wanted to be confident. "I can even help you out! Why don't we go edit the next episode together? It'll be fun!" March4fun did not miss how Nora's eyes occasionally flicked over to the gauntlet. "I'm sure you don't need something like the Creativity Gauntlet just for editing."

"I can't do any editing," March4fun answered. "But… I need to use it."

Nora took half a step closer.

"Why is that?" she asked. The man didn't answer. Nora's eyes widened. "No, wait! You can't-!"

March4fun moved quickly, pulling a glowing blue stone from his knapsack and holding it out before him. Nora made to tackle him before the room was suddenly filled with soft blue light. Nora stopped in her tracks, her heart grasping her chest. She slowly sank to her knees with tears in her eyes. A moment later, she was curled up on the ground and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Why-?!" she hiccuped. "Why does it hurt so much?!" She let out a wailing cry as she rocked back and forth where she lay.

"I'm so sorry, Nora," March4fun said, agony on his face as he, lowered the stone and walked to the gauntlet. "I need to get it out of my head. I need to sleep. This… this is the only way."

Slowly, sorrowfully, he slipped his hand into the Creativity Gauntlet and raised it to the sky. He flexed the fingers one by one. It fit perfectly.

"Feels," he said reverently, placing the gem in one of the sockets. A blue flash lit up the room, compounded by Nora's wail of despair as the emotional energy in the room increased.

March4fun wanted to stop and help her, but he had no choice. This needed to happen. He reached a hand into the pouch at his side and began pulling out more stones one after another.

"Action," he said, placing a red stone into the gauntlet.

There was a red flash.

"Plot."

A yellow flash.

"Conflict."

A purple flash.

"Setting."

An orange flash.

Finally, March4fun pulled out the last stone, a green one. Already, his gauntleted hand was beginning to burn, but he needed to press on. He reached toward the last socket.

"Chara-"

BOOM!

The gunshot was especially deafening in the small confines of the room. March4fun cried out as he felt the right side of his back flare into burning pain before he was sent spinning and tumbling to the ground. His right arm locked up in agony, but he somehow kept his hold on the last stone. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he turned to the door, where a new arrival was helping Nora to her feet. She stood up straight and glared down at him with blood-red eyes that seemed to shine with fury as she leveled an advanced shotgun at his head

"Sanguine… please…"

"Shut your mouth, you bastard," Sanguine snarled, working the lever of her shotgun with a loud CHI-CHAK, "or you'll get more than just a beanbag round! You abandon us for months— MONTHS!— and now we find you here?! And with that thing again?!" She angrily pointed her shotgun at the gauntlet. "I've had to watch you do this twice already! If you use that thing, we're gonna be the ones who get hurt! You'll abandon us!"

"No…" said March4fun, slowly climbing to his feet. "Sanguine… I'd never abandon any of you." He let out a pained gasp before standing tall. "You know that I wouldn't."

Sanguine's shotgun remained raised, but it trembled ever so slightly.

"That's exactly what you said about Kitsune's Tale," she said bitterly. "Now, put those stones down before I do something you'll regret."

March4fun and Sanguine stared at each other for a long moment before he sighed.

"I'm sorry. I need to go where my muse takes me."

He raised his gauntlet and the room was suddenly filled with blue light again. Nora was curled up on the floor crying, but Sanguine stood her ground as a single tear trailed down her cheek. She gave March4fun a flat look.

"I've felt worse," she said, brushing away the tear. "You know that."

A black crescent blade sprang from her shotgun as she lunged forward. March4fun raised his gauntlet a second time, this time causing an orange glow to appear around Sanguine.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

"SANGUINE!" wailed Nora, pushing herself to her feet. "What did you do to her?!"

"She's fine," March4fun said. "I sent her a few kilometers away. She'll be back soon." He finally slotted the last stone into place. "Character," he said as the room was filled with a green flash.

March4fun's back arched in pain as lights streamed every which way right underneath his skin. It hurt. It hurt so much. But it needed to be done.

Before he could raise his hand again, the structure they were in screamed in protest as the roof was suddenly torn off. March4fun looked up to see Puddin floating above them with fierce glare on her normally adorable face. The gray majiin in technicolor clothing held a hand out toward him, already charging an energy blast.

"Not one more move, March!" she yelled. March4fun just looked up at her sadly.

"I'm truly sorry," he said, raising his hand one final time. "It was… inevitable."

"NOOOO!" two voices cried out at once.

March4fun snapped his fingers.

The world went white.

Chapter 1 - A Chance Meeting

The Stark Expo was in chaos. Explosions rocked the streets, rockets and grenades fell from the sky, and humanoid metal figures dueled in the air above the panicking crowds while others fired the ground. The big globe in the center of the Expo was already heavily damaged by flying Hammer Drones, and more Expo buildings were being destroyed by the second.

A war was being waged in the middle of Empire City between a force of dozens arrayed against a single man.

Needless to say, the evening was not going the way five-year-old Peter Parker had expected it to be. His Uncle Ben had won tickets to the Expo in a lottery at work and Peter had been practically bouncing off the walls all week in his excitement to finally see what sorts of wonderful things were on display. His family had been there all of twenty minutes, just enough time for him to get an Iron Man costume helmet and gauntlet, before everything started exploding. The panicked crowd had stampeded in their attempt to get away from the main stage when the drones HammerTech had been showing off suddenly opened fire. The sudden rush of panicking civilians had forced Peter away from his aunt and uncle's side. Now, Peter was lost, scared, and confused. Frightened people ran away from the advancing drones, all of them passing him by in their rush to escape.

Peter looked again at the sky, where the Invincible Iron Man was fighting against the rogue drones. The drones fired countless rockets at him while another, darker figure attacked Iron Man with a huge gun. Peter remembered the man leading the HammerTech presentation calling that one a War Machine.

Steadily, though, Iron Man was destroying the drones one by one. He twisted through the air, making hairpin turns and sudden drops and stops, spinning around to blast the drones to pieces with his repulsor blasts or other weapons. Eventually, there was only the War Machine chasing after Iron Man, hundreds of feet in the air. Iron Man dodged a stream of bullets from his opponent's gun and twisted around, bringing his glowing chest laser to bear. At the same moment, the War Machine fired a missile from it's shoulder. Iron Man's laser struck the War Machine at the same time the missile hit Iron Man. The War Machine was sent flying out of sight while Iron Man was knocked from the sky, slamming into the pavement not five feet away from Peter.

There was silence. The civilians had already fled, leaving this area of the grounds empty except for the two of them. With slow footsteps, Peter made his way to the small crater Iron Man had made in the pavement. The hero lay on a mound of broken concrete, his chest emitter glowing while his eyes were dark. He wasn't moving.

"M-… Mister Iron Man?" said Peter. The hero didn't answer. "Mister Iron Man, Sir?" Peter said again, this time stepping closer. When the hero still did not acknowledge him, Peter hopped into the crater and took hold of Iron Man's hand. "C'mon, Mister Iron Man. You have to get up. You have to save the day." Peter set his feet and heaved at the armored limb, trying to pull Iron Man upright. He might as well have been trying to pull a car by himself.

Peter suddenly became aware of loud, thumping footsteps coming up behind him. Turning over his shoulder, he saw one of the Hammer Army drones lumbering closer until it towered over them. It's glowing blue optic stared down at them, whirring and focusing before its cannon lowered to point at the two of them.

Peter, suddenly forgetting to be afraid, stood between the fallen hero and the rogue drone. The young boy raised his glowing glove to point at the drone.

"Stay away from him," squeaked Peter, his voice cracking at the end. The drone gave no answer beyond adjusting its cannon.

Ehhnnn-BOOM!

Peter jumped in surprise as the drone was suddenly flung back with a smoking crater in the center of its chest. The boy stood there, blinking in confusion between the destroyed drone and his toy gauntlet before he thought to look over his shoulder, where he saw Iron Man lowering his hand. Iron Man's eyes were bright once again as he pushed himself out of the crater he had made. He let out a tired breath before clapping Peter on the shoulder. The force from the metal hand almost knocked the boy off his feet.

"Thanks for the save, kid," said Iron Man. "You got guts."

"Y-…You're… welcome…" Peter said, his rattled mind suddenly realizing he was speaking to his personal hero. Peter's eyes almost sparkled as Iron Man stood to his full height and stretched, working out any pains in his limbs.

"What's your name, kid?" asked Iron Man.

"P-p-peter," the boy stuttered.

"That's a nice name," Iron Man said. "Any idea where your folks are?"

Before Peter had the chance to answer, another armored figure flew down from the night sky, this one wrapped in black and gray metal. It was the War Machine.

"Look out!" Peter shouted and pointed upward, but Iron Man was already putting himself between the approaching attacker and Peter. He held up both hands, which started priming for a repulsor blast.

"Whoa, whoa! Hold your fire, Tony!" said the other armored figure, holding his hands up in surrender. Peter's mouth dropped open in shock. The War Machine wasn't a robot?

Iron Man's hands lowered slightly, but he did not stand down.

"You back in control, Rhodey?" he asked.

"Yeah," the other one said with a nod. "That blast of yours cooked my circuits a little and the system reset. I'm five-by."

"Good to hear," Iron Man said, finally lowering his hands. "Any more of those drones out there?

"My scanners are showing three more groups, all of whom are converging on us at this moment. My advice: I say we get to that garden building and get 'em in a bottleneck."

"Sounds like a plan," said Iron Man.

It was at that moment that Other Man, as Peter had started thinking of him as, finally took notice of the young boy.

"Who's the kid, Tony?" he asked.

"Name's Peter," said Iron Man. With that, the Pro Hero turned to the boy. "You remember the way to the front entrance, kid?"

"Yes, Mister Iron Man," Peter said with a nod. He heard Other Man stifle a laugh.

"Good. I need you to head there. Police should be showing up soon. You can find your folks there. Okay?"

"Okay," said Peter, nodding again.

"Good, now run along. Us two have bad guys to fight."

"Good luck, Mister Iron Man," Peter said before he started running toward the entrance gate of the Expo. He could hear them as he left.

"Never knew you could be so good with kids, Tony," Other Man said with a laugh.

"Shut up and get moving, Sidekick," Iron Man muttered.

"'Sidekick'? Which of us has military experience here?"

"Um, me. Y'know, since I've kinda been doing your jobs for years. No need to give me a medal over it, Sidekick."

Then the two armored men then flew into the air to finish the battle while Peter kept running to safety, unable to keep a joyful smile off of his face.

Just wait until Eugenehears about this.

(line)

The events of that night had struck a fire within Peter. His idol had been Iron Man, the Number One Hero and the Last Avenger, ever since Peter was old enough to understand who heroes were and what they represented. Seeing the man up close, even helping him and being praised by him, had removed any doubt from Peter's mind in what he wanted to be when he grew up.

When Peter was five, he knew that no matter what, he was going to be a hero.

When Peter was six, he learned that that was impossible.

Peter still remembered the silent, morose dinner that had followed after the doctor had told him, Aunt May, and Uncle Ben that Peter would never get a Quirk. Aunt May had quietly cried for him while Uncle Ben had made a few awkward attempts at jokes before giving up.

It wasn't long before everyone at school found out. The title of 'Quirkless' had been hanging over his head ever since.

Then, when Peter was nine, everything went from bad to worse. The loss of his Uncle Ben had sent him into a dark abyss of sadness and pain.

A dark abyss that was a lot less literal than the one he currently found himself in.

Fifteen-year-old Peter Parker was idly thinking that this locker was getting a little too small for him to be shoved into now. He could try bringing it up to Eugene, but he had the feeling he knew how that particular conversation would go. So for now, it was just him, a backpack, and four metal walls that were just now starting to feel like they were closing in on him. Peter sighed. Years of being shoved into lockers had started to numb him to the inherent panic of the situation, but even that had limits of what he was willing to wait out. But, with his arms trapped as they were, there was nothing he could do but wait.

A shadow passed in front of the vented opening in the front of the locker, grabbing Peter's attention. A moment later, there was a knock.

Rat-tatta-tat-tat.

Peter managed to maneuver his foot free enough to kick a clumsy tang-tang against the metal. He heard the sound of the dial being spun before the locker came open, finally allowing him to soak up the light of buzzing fluorescent bulbs. He let out a sigh of relief as he managed to extricate himself from his locker and stretch his stiff joints.

"Thanks for the save, man," he said gratefully. Ned Leeds, his best friend, smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"No problem, Pete," Ned said with a smile. His face drooped as he looked back into the locker. "Was it Flash again?"

"Yup," said Peter before he started cleaning his thick, round glasses. "What time is it?"

"Three minutes until last period," said Ned. He winced. "You missed Chemistry. Again"

Peter groaned and massaged his temples. Due to various locker-related shenanigans, he had missed enough class these last few years that he was reasonably sure he could be labeled a delinquent. The only reason that his teachers didn't make much of a fuss over it was because he always scored so high on his assignments and tests.

Giving another sigh, he followed Ned through the halls of Midtown Middle School. In terms of learning institutes, it wasn't anything to write home about. A concrete building that contained gray linoleum tiles paired with gray wall and topped with gray ceilings. The paint was being chipped from the walls while piles of dust were slowly collecting in every corner. It wasn't a bad school, but it wasn't a great one either. Peter and Ned made it to class before the bell rang and they took their seats. The rest of their classmates also trickled in to join them. They came in every color, shape, and size. There were kids who with extra limbs or antennae, kids with wolf-like features or silver skin, and even one kid who had a ball of burning green energy where his head was supposed to be. Next to everyone here, Peter and Ned looked absolutely boring.

The bell rang then, calling the start of class. The last class of the day was English, and it was honestly a waste of time. Their teacher, Mr. Gladlee, was a writer who was determined to create the next great American Novel. Therefore, he would spend endless minutes waxing poetically about subjects that could be cleared up in one or two sentences. This approach also extended to his assignments. If a student used lots of flowery language and made a few statements about symbolism, they were guaranteed an A. The man himself sauntered into the room about a minute after the bell rang — just like always — and set his bag on the front desk.

"Good afternoon, everyone," he said as he adjusted his glasses. There were a few murmured greetings from around the room, but that was it. "We'll be talking about something special today." That statement got a little more attention. "Now that you have begun the final winter of your middle school days," he said, "you must begin to ponder the twisting path of life you wish to set yourself upon. Each and every one of you is capable of great and wonderful things, but all of that wondrous potential depends on which path you place yourself upon in this moment." He opened his bag and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "These are documents that you have filled out with what you plan to do with your lives. I would offer consultations if needed, but…" he trailed off as he set the papers aside and sighed, "I think I have a clear understanding of the path you all plan to commit yourselves to."

As if that were a cue, the whole class erupted into cheers of excitement. There were many cries of 'we're gonna be heroes!' from all around. Ned rolled his eyes while Peter stared at his desk and tried to make himself smaller.

"Yes, yes, like many before you," Mr. Gladlee said with a sigh, "you have been seduced towards that bloody path, seized by that youthful passion to waste away your days giving in to your violent instincts rather than commit to honest labor or studies of the arts."

"Damn straight!" said a student in the back row, prompting more cheers.

"Oh, how far our species has come," muttered Mr. Gladlee, shaking his head.

A loud, mocking laugh suddenly rang throughout the classroom, causing everyone else to become quiet and turn to the person laughing. He was a tall, muscled boy with a solid square jaw and short, spiked blond hair. He wore a letterman's jacket over a t-shirt and currently had his feet kicked up onto his desk while he sneered arrogantly at the class.

"You got one thing right about that, Teach," Flash Thompson said. "These dumbasses are wasting their time. They'll be lucky if they end up as useless sidekicks at a third-rate agency after graduating from a school just as crappy as this one is." The class immediately glared at him.

"You're not better than us!" "Yeah!" "We can kick villain butt just as well as you can!"

"Shut the hell up!" yelled Flash. "You're not as strong as me! Nobody is as strong as me! I'm going to SLA and leaving you weaklings behind!"

"Please try to settle down, Mr. Thompson," Mr. Gladlee said without any real commitment. Flash was captain of both the basketball team and the football team, so he often got a free pass when he acted up in class. The teacher began paging through a new sheaf of papers, giving each one a quick glance. "In my class, however, impressive quirks and hero courses like SLA are secondary to true learning."

The rest of the class began to murmur among themselves. The Stan Lee Academy of Heroic Studies, or SLA, was the premier Hero school in the country. It was also exceedingly hard to get into, with a 0.2 percent acceptance rate. Because of that, it turned out many of the greatest heroes in the world, including at least six of the top ten Heroes in the nation.

It was also the school that Peter wanted to go to more than anyplace else.

During this whole time, Flash had been bragging about how amazing he was going to be and how he would be the absolute best at SLA. Of course, the teacher made no effort to actually reign in his behavior. They never did. Instead, Mr. Gladlee was flipping through his papers before he suddenly stopped.

"Ah," he said with interest. "Mr. Parker?"

Peter snapped up straight in his seat.

"Y-yes sir?"

"There must be some sort of error," Mr. Gladlee mused. "It says here that you are applying for SLA's Support and Hero courses, but we all know that that can't be correct. What's the meaning of this?"

The class suddenly went totally silent as they all stared at Peter. Peter's shoulders tightened as he stared back down at his desk.

"It's correct, Mr. Gladlee," Peter answered.

There was a pause. Next to him, Ned facepalmed. Then the entire class was laughing. He could hear jeers of 'quirkless', 'idiot', and 'hopeless', but he just stayed in his seat and weathered the storm of insults. He had known this was going to happen eventually.

"Now, now, class," said Mr. Gladlee, making a small attempt to reestablish order. "Peter too has been filled with passion. He is entitled to his own dreams, however ridiculous they may be."

That just made all of the students laugh harder.

Peter took a moment to glance out of the corner of his eye. Just as he expected, Flash Thompson was staring right at him. Flash's eyes were burning with anger as he gave Peter a glare so nasty it could have peeled paint of the walls. Peter turned his eyes back to his desk.

The rest of the class seemed to wash right over Peter. He didn't say anything for the duration of class nor did he even make a sound, lest he make himself a target again.

Eventually, when class was finished for the day, the other students filed out until only Ned and Peter were left in their seats. Ned gave Peter a look of confusion.

"What the heck are you thinking, Pete?" asked Ned from where he sat right next to Peter.

"I don't know," said Peter.

"I thought we were going for the Support course together. We were gonna make lots of Hero gadgets together, right? Why are you signing up for the Hero course?" demanded Ned.

Peter took a breath before looking his best friend in the eye.

"Have you ever imagined being like Iron Man?" he asked Ned. Ned's faced twisted.

"Not again, Pete. We've been over this before."

"I'm serious!" Peter said. "I think that being a hero is possible for us. Don't you want something like that?" Ned's eyes widened.

"Oh, no way, man," he said, giving a vigorous shake of his head. "I wanna live!"

"But don't you think it's possible to do more?" Peter asked. "Instead of just sitting in a lab designing support technology, we could actually be the ones to use it to help people. Iron Man is the Number One Hero in the country and he does it all with the technology he makes himself. Who's to say we're not capable of something like that?"

"Um, literally everyone, man," said Ned.

He tapped his fingers against his chin before focusing a long stare at Peter. For a few moments, the two of them just watched each other. "Peter," said Ned, "You're my best friend, okay?"

"Um… okay?" said Peter, arching an eyebrow.

"And I really like being your friend. I just want you to know that." Ned paused for a moment. "Up till now, I've humored this crazy Hero Course idea of yours because we're best friends and because I thought you would grow out of it. Since you clearly haven't, I'm gonna level with you.

"You don't have a Quirk, Peter"

Those words coming out of his best friend's mouth felt like knives through Peter's heart. Throughout their entire friendship, Ned had never brought up Peter's Quirkless status to him. It had always been something that they had ignored between them.

"You don't have any powers at all," continued Ned. "You don't have any devices that didn't originally come from a dumpster. You don't have a few billion dollars lying around for all the good materials. I am telling you from the bottom of my heart, man, that you can't do this."

"It still isn't impos-"

"Dude," Ned interrupted, "I've heard about what the Hero Entrance Exam involves. If you go there with a handful of gadgets and wishful thinking, you will literally die! I am serious, Pete!"

Peter blinked at Ned, thinking over what his friend had just said. Signing up for the Hero Course had been a snap decision, caused by the reemergence of youthful hopes and dreams. Peter sighed, took off his glasses, and massaged his brow.

"I just… I just felt like I had the chance to do more. Y'know, more than just making some new grappling hook for someone who won't appreciate it. I… I've got a responsibility to do more."

"Peter, we can totally do that," Ned said insistently. "Once we get into the Support class, who knows what we'll make. We could probably come up with Support Items that can stop crime in seconds." Ned smiled. "And imagine what we can make when we actually graduate!"

Peter mulled on this for a few moments longer. With another sigh, he put his glasses back on.

"Okay," said Peter. "You're right. It wasn't going to work out."

Ned leaned back with a sigh of relief.

"Oh thank God," he said. "I thought you were going insane again." Ned gave Peter a goofy grin before holding his hand out to him. "Science Bros?"

Peter gave an attempt at a smile and nodded.

"Science Bros."

The two of them were halfway through their special handshake when the classroom door was suddenly slammed open. Flash Thompson stomped into the room, his nostrils flared and his mouth set in a hateful scowl. Two of his followers were close behind him, but Peter barely took notice. His focus was swiftly going into tunnel vision on Flash.

"You think you're real funny, don't you, Parker?!" demanded Flash. Peter, having enough experience to know where this was going, quickly whipped off his glasses and handed them to Ned. The world became a hazy mass of blurred colors, but it was better than another broken pair of glasses.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Peter said to the blob that looked like Flash.

"The hell you don't!" Flash snapped before grabbing Peter by his shirt collar and roughly pulling him out of his chair. "Where do you get off trying to go to SLA?! You Quirkless piece of shit!"

Peter felt as if there were firecrackers going off in his stomach. He was going to be sick.

"C-c'mon Eugene," Peter said meekly. "It's no big deal, really. I'm not actually trying out for the Hero course. I'm gonna do Support."

"Don't call me that!" snapped Flash, giving Peter a hard shake. "You still don't get it, Parker! I don't want you going to SLA at all!" With a mighty shove, Flash sent Peter stumbling against the wall. "That goes for you too, Lard Boy! I don't want to see either of you try out for SLA!"

"C'mon Flash…" said one of the followers. "Don't you think this is a little-?"

"You shut up!" yelled Flash, making the other boy cower away from him. Peter couldn't be certain, but it looked like Flash had turned back to face him. "You and Lard Boy are useless wastes of space! That's all you'll ever be! I'm the only one in this shithole of a school who deserves to go to SLA! You got that?! SLA is for the best heroes in the world, not Quirkless nobodies and fat useless pigs!" Flash grabbed Peter's collar in one hand and lifted him straight up into the air. Peter's legs kicked pitifully, desperate to be connected with the ground. "You understanding that, Parker?"

Peter didn't answer. His body was too busy shaking in fear to put together any words.

The next moment, Peter was dropped unceremoniously to the floor while Flash suddenly swung his arm to the side. Peter clearly heard the sound of shattering wood and screeching metal. Flash must have destroyed one of the desks.

"Consider that an example," said Flash, the sneer evident in his voice. "Stay in the gutter where you belong." With that, Flash left with his followers trailing behind him.

The classroom was still and silent before another hazy blob came close to better and extended something toward him. It took a few tries, but Peter managed to take his glasses back from Ned. When the world was back in focus, Peter shot Ned a look. His chubby friend looked a little saddened, but he gave Peter a smile all the same.

"That didn't go so bad," Ned said, helping Peter to his feet. "Definitely could have gone worse."

Peter didn't say anything as they left the classroom side by side and made their way out. By the time they had reached the front doors of the school, Peter stopped feeling like he was going to throw up at any second. He glanced at Ned.

"So…" started Peter, hoping his voice didn't sound as trembling as he felt, "you wanna come over? I think there's some new anime we can try out. We can see if any are worth watching? Then maybe we can do some tinkering?"

"Sorry, dude," Ned said with a shrug. "I have cram school today. Remember?"

"Oh… right… Sorry, I forgot." Even though it was just the two of them, Peter still found himself feeling self-conscious. Ned had started going to a nearby cram school to study for the SLA Support entrance exam. The program was highly recommended, but also incredibly expensive. Too expensive for Peter to take part in.

"Hey man, don't worry," Ned said jovially, swatting Peter on the shoulder. "We'll meet up this weekend and you can look over my notes, okay?"

"Okay," Peter said with a nod. "I'll just do some tinkering on my own." That thought cascaded through Peter's mind, suddenly reminding him of something. "Oh man!" he said, slapping his forehead. "I didn't go to Chemistry! I couldn't get the hexamethylenediamine."

Ned suddenly laughed before swinging his backpack off his shoulders.

"Oh yeah, no worries, Pete," he said, digging into one of the pockets. A moment later, he pulled out a glass beaker covered by plastic wrap and containing a viscous clear liquid. "Swiped this while the teacher had her back turned."

"Oh, thank you Ned," Peter said with a smile, taking the beaker from him and placing it in his own backpack next to another beaker that was similarly covered. "Want me to wait for you or can I try mixing it up tonight?" Ned waved him off.

"Don't wait up. Send me a text to tell me how it goes."

"Okay."

The two of them started their handshake. Six movements that many would see no importance in. But not these two. To Peter and Ned, each movement was a representation, a memento of the Avengers, the greatest heroes that ever lived.

Their handshake was both an homage to their idol, Iron Man, and a memorial to his fallen comrades.

After their handshake was concluded, the two of them parted ways, with Ned heading downtown to where cram school was held while Peter was left to walk the five blocks to the train station that would take him home. Peter idly kicked at sidewalk trash as he walked, lost in thought. He had indeed heeded Ned's words. He knew how insane of a notion it was. But nothing had changed for him.

More than anything in the world, Peter Parker wanted to be a Hero.

AN: And that's a wrap for the first chapter of my brand new story! I'm so glad I managed to get this chapter out on August 27, aka Spiderman's Birthday! How ridiculous is that?!

This idea has been swirling around in my head for months, and I'm so glad to finally get it posted I hope you guys like it. Let me know what you all think. I need reviews to live!

My Hero Academia and Marvel are properties of their respective owners. This story is based off the artwork of DuckLordEthan on Deviantart, who you should totally check out.

See you all next time!