A/N and review responses at the bottom.


"Just my luck," Spider-Man chuckled, a fierce grin crossing his face. The dark sedan pulled to a halt in front of an equally dark building at the corner of the industrial district and the highways connecting to upper Vale.

From within said sedan stepped out four suited men, attires accented with red-tinted aviators and crimson ties. The pitch-black fedoras completed the ensemble. They looked identical to the lot that had been working for Torchwick when Spider-Man had first met him.

The hero watched as the four men approached the heavy front doors to the two-story building. After a series of knocks and a notable pause, a bouncer met them, spoke words that the arachnid was too far away to hear, and let them in. The driver, meanwhile, wheeled around to the back of the building and out of sight. He reemerged a minute later up front once more and entered through the front doors at the permission of the bouncer.

Peter had noticed the shady group fifteen minutes earlier, having caught sight of them entering the vehicle outside an empty construction lot. No nearby facilities looked like they were in turmoil; all the workers proceeded as usual. Peter hadn't spotted a crime in progress. Unsure of what they might have been up to, but recognizing their signature suits all the same, Spider-Man quietly followed them.

And now, he was here. Wherever here was.

The building was unmarked and without too many distinguishing characteristics. A front balcony, supported by numerous ground posts, hung over the double front doors. The surrounding buildings were old facilities and construction projects, either on hiatus or abandoned, he didn't know. The smaller structure housing his 'friends' looked equally abandoned from the outside, at first glance. Everything in this district followed a theme; dark and mysterious with a hint of danger. It stood in stark contrast to Vale's colorful and charming upper districts with their outdoor restaurants and gift shops at every corner.

Spider-Man nimbly hopped from his perch atop a neighboring building, landing silently on the roof of his target. It was rough and grainy, but level, save for occasional pipe work. There was no door roof.

It didn't matter much, though. Peter would find his way in.

The arachnid crept down along the wall, glancing all about to avoid crawling over any of the windows the establishment boasted. He took a careful glance through one of them after doing his best to ensure he wouldn't be seen. The room inside was pitch black and unoccupied, from what he could tell. He pressed his adhesive fingertips to the window to give it a gentle push upwards, but his spider-sense kicked in. He backed away from the window, further up the wall.

"Probably rigged to something," he mumbled to himself, frowning in thought. He didn't want to tip off the building's inhabitants, lest they call for reinforcements too soon.

He searched for a new entry point.

Said point made itself known in the form of an exterior basement door. Once more, the youth checked his surroundings before jumping to the ground. He landed with a muffled thump, not far from his quarry. The sensation of a sandy surface greeted his feet. He silently thanked his sturdy boots for holding out after so many nightly adventures; he had long since learned of the unpleasant sensation of sand in the shoes after getting punched by Flint Marko on occasion.

The metal basement door looked old and rusted, hinges and finishes showing signs of exposure to air and moisture. Nevertheless, it was thick and sturdy. Spider-Man reached forward, fingers wrapping around the heavy duty lock bolting the door shut, and squeezed.

No spider-sense.

Crack.

Not so heavy duty anymore, he mused with a smirk. He uncurled his fingers, the remains of the lock falling from his hand. He paused before dragging the door open and webbed up the hinges. Opening the door would be more difficult, but the adhesive silk would help dampen the noise of scraping rusty metal.

He pulled the handle and the door began to rise. It was a weighty thing, made stiffer by the webs jamming the hinges, but Spider-Man pulled it open anyways. The old metal protested, but the webbing helped stifle the sounds.

A wooden stairway greeted him, and Peter descended. Brick walls, caked with dirt and grime, lined the dark walkway. The smell was no better.

He made his way down, a faint trickling sound permeating all throughout. The light from outside only reached so far, but Spider-Man paid the darkness no mind. His spider-sense kept him steady as he walked. He took a wide step to avoid a crate – empty, to his disappointment. No clues yet as to what he had found.

It took a while, but he eventually found himself approaching a door. It was still pitch black in the hallway, but his spider-sense warned him of the wall that he would have otherwise walked into. The door itself, reinforced and lacking an outward door knob, was not much larger than the cellar door itself. It was meant to be opened from the other side.

"A problem for the average police officer," Spider-Man noted with a smile. He pressed his adhesive fingertips against the door and anchored himself. "But not for your friendly neighborhood web head."

No traps triggered his spider-sense – yet. A quick blast of webbing to the hinges, and Spider-Man was ready.

His first tug failed to open the heavy door. He put more power into the second. Still nothing.

Spider-Man frowned and tried a third time, now putting more work into the pull. Reinforced hinges met spider-strength. The loser of that fight was forced to move. The winner took a victory walk through the open door.

Another dark room greeted him. Peter made his way through, using his spider-sense until he found a light switch.

Click.

A lone ceiling light, hanging from a short chain, illuminated the rectangular space. A stockroom greeted him. Crates lined the walls, stacked higher than Peter's head. He glanced into an open, half-full box. Shiny bottles of dark red wine greeted him. The name Strawberry Sunrise was stamped proudly on each beverage.

Making his way up the second flight of stairs and out of the room proved easy. Another door – this one not reinforced – guarded his path. He could hear music blasting from the other side. The small opening between the door and the floor was illuminated with flashing lights from the other side.

He opened it by quietly crushing the doorknob and its lock. He gave it a gentle pull and it slowly swung open, any and all noise rendered null by the ruckus beyond.

Between the thunderous music and the blazing neon lights, it took Peter a moment to realize what he was looking at. What greeted him beyond the door was a rack absolutely stocked with wine bottles of various sizes, some cherry red, others a pale white. Spider-Man took a step closer and peered between the bottles.

Beyond the wine rack was a nightclub. Pitch black walls and ceiling and a blinding white dance floor marked the room. They were accompanied by a light scheme that kept flashing the same pale illumination. More suited men ambled about. One or two picked bottles off the caged shelves.

Ah, Spider-Man realized, just barely able to hear his own thoughts over the music. The door's behind the shelves. Probably some sort of unloading gate that doubles up as a side-exit. That explains why they've got doors ready to stop a rampaging Grimm. Can't have the locals barging in for unregistered free wine samples, eh?

The issue then was getting past the shelf without being seen too early. Surprise was his, and for all he knew, Roman Torchwick might have been present. Something told Peter that the orange-haired criminal would scram at the first sight of Spider-Man.

The arachnid hero crept out of the door and quietly shut it behind him. He glanced up but found a low section of the ceiling denying him an exit. He'd have to find another way out.

The shelf that obscured the door now obscured Spider-Man too. He moved silently along the back wall, careful to stick to every shadow he could find. The exit to the secret pathway became clearer at the end of the shelf, where it made a ninety-degree turn straight into the wall. The small area of space above that turn was not cut off by a ceiling.

Peter quickly made his way over and crawled up ladder that went to the top of the shelf. He peeked over the top.

There was a neatly-groomed bartender at the back of the room. He wore a look of utter confidence – a display for whom, Peter didn't know. The man directed some of the suits around, pointing to various locations along the rack, as well as sending one of the others upstairs with a crate.

Spider-Man quietly made his way out of his hiding place. The corner of the nightclub that held the entrance to the secret pathway was out of the way of the dance floor and its lights. The corner was shadowed, probably to keep the walkway out of dancers' sight on a busy night. Now, however, it hid the intruder.

The youth crawled along the shadowed walls. They were painted ink black, certainly an odd color for interior walls and ceilings.

Even the stairs are black.

He made his way past the bar and took the express way up – that being, his sticky fingers.

In no time, he was on the second floor. Pictures lined the dark wall of the upper area, ceasing only to make way for occasional doors. Peter saw traces of rich, red carpet beneath those doors. Most of the photos surrounding those doors depicted the bartender in someway or another. One photo in particular caught Peter's eye. It showed the man behind the bar holding a document and shaking the hand of another man. The document, however, put an idea in the young hero's head.

Is that the deed to this place? Does that guy own the joint?

A minute spent glancing around at various seemed to confirm it. The man behind the bar certainly appeared to be calling the shots, and most photos of the place had him proudly grinning in front of the club proper. This wasn't Torchwick's haunt; it was the bartender's.

Still, his goons looked awfully similar to the ones Torchwick had with him on that night. Mercenaries, maybe?

The thought of a potential lead on Vale's most notorious thief proved tempting. Spider-Man needed to arrange an impromptu meeting with the bartender. At worst, he'd get into another fight.

As if that would scare him.

The arachnid hero made his way back down. He avoided the lights and cameras with practiced ease. JJ would have flipped a lid had he seen Spider-Man breaking and entering like this. Peter could practically hear the rant.

Menace, menace, menace, chanted the imaginary Jameson.

Good grief, did Peter actually miss that?

I've reached a new low if I've begun to miss Pickle Puss and his rants…

It took a bit of clever maneuvering, but Spider-Man found his way to the bar table. He crawled down the wall behind the unsuspecting owner and sat himself down on the rear counter. Bottles of various sizes became his neighbors on the temporary perch. He had yet to be noticed by any of the busy henchmen scrubbing the floors and taking down wine bottles.

"-wants a whole order by tonight," he heard the bartender mumble. The man was hunched over and furiously punching something into his Scroll. "Crazy fool. Transportation for that much liquor through blasted Grimm territory can't be set up that fast." He looked up, presumably to shout something to his men, but Peter took that moment to speak up.

"Customer service is rough today, huh?"

The unaware man gasped. His hand shot under the counter and he whirled around. Peter tensed and…

And the bartender froze when he saw Spider-Man. The surprise in his eyes slowly turned to confusion, then to a forced calm. His brow furrowed, forehead crinkling. Slowly, he let go of whatever he had grabbed under the counter. Peter caught the hilt of a firearm.

"Smart choice right there," he pointed out, gesturing to the the man's hand. "Guns are notoriously ineffective against spiders. Should tell that to your boys up front when they notice me."

As if on queue, people began to notice Peter. The first was actually a pair of well dressed girls – twins, if he had to guess – atop one of the platforms. Thugs began to join in on the viewing a moment later, and weapons were drawn.

"Hold it, hold it!" the bartender ordered, holding his hands up. "Nobody shoot."

The inferred 'yet' was palpable. An air of tension set in.

"Spider-Man...What do you want?" the bartender asked, turning back to the arachnid in question. The man rearranged his crimson tie with black-gloved hands. The young hero grinned and leaned in.

"You've got me at a disadvantage there, Mr. Bartender. Anything I can call you by besides your profession?"

"The name Junior's Nightclub didn't clue you in?" the newly-named Junior asked.

"Huh, well, you haven't exactly been advertising the place as such. I can tell it's a nightclub, but you sure don't look like a 'Junior.' Not much in the way of a sign, either."

"Locals know the name well enough," Junior replied without missing a beat. "But you didn't answer the question. Why are you here?"

"A little birdie told me some of your friends here worked pretty closely with a guy by the name of Roman Torchwick. Ring any bells?"

The nightclub's owner sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, and did that birdie tell you where those boys ended up, by any chance?"

"Jail," Spider-Man chirped, still grinning. "At least, I assume. I didn't pay much attention to them after they got trounced by Little Red."

"Who?"

"Trade secret."

Junior frowned. "Fine, don't tell me. But what do you expect from me? The guys you want are in jail."

"Yeah, that's sorta the problem. The cops can interview them all they want, but I'm a little out of the loop. Maybe you can fill that gap and tell me a little more about Torchwick's operation."

He received a snort for an answer. "He flashed some money in my face and I spared a few of my employees for his nightly adventure. You've probably got a better idea of what he did with them than I do, seeing as you actually saw my guys after Torchwick was done with them."

"You sold manpower – armed manpower – to Vale's most notorious and instantly recognizable thief," Spider-Man deadpanned. "If you're going to risk selling hired guns to a guy who's easier to ID than my buddy Rhino in a crowd, I'm sure you'd be a little curious about the scheme. You're the one things get traced back to, after all."

This time, it was a bark of laughter that Junior graced him with. "Kid, things don't get traced back to me. You can talk to as many cops as you want about that little episode. My hands are clean."

Spider-Man raised a curious eyebrow. "That so?"

"Yes, it is," Junior replied evenly. "You're welcome to take that up with them anytime you want. I'll be right here when and if you do."

"Hmm," Peter mused. "And how exactly does that work? The whole being 'clean' after that, I mean."

"Trade secret."

Touche. The hint of unease in the bartender's eyes and voice didn't go unnoticed by Peter.

He acts confident but he's nervous about something. A bluff, maybe?

"Lookin' a little fidgety for a guy who supposedly has nothing to worry about," Spider-Man pointed out.

"I'm talking to a guy with a history of violence and a tendency to beat people he thinks broke the law. Wears a red and blue wetsuit and pretends he's funny. Also recently broke into my nightclub and is now harassing me. Know him?"

Peter did a double take. He really hoped people didn't actually think of him that way. Although it was technically true.

"Huh. Kudos, guy; you're the first one in Vale to spout a quip that actually threw me for a loop," he chuckled.

"Good to know. Now scram. Talk to a cop, go fight crime, hire a hooker – I don't care. Just get lost before I open up for the night. I don't need my attendees freaking out because I've got some psycho in pajamas ruining the mood."

The hero frowned. If he's telling the truth, I can't make a move against him without getting into hot water with the local authorities, he thought. Then again, shouldn't I be used to that by now?

Still, he usually didn't have someone like Ozpin overseeing his actions. The last thing he needed was to potentially bring the issue of the local authorities on the headmaster's shoulders, especially with the Wendigo out there already drawing his concerns.

Plus, if Ozpin could get some legal leeway in, then Junior could be handled by people who could work the political field. The right authorities get Junior, Peter avoids issues with said authorities, and ends up with more time to hunt bigger fish.

"Alright, fine," he finally answered. "I'll take your little story and see what the boys in blue say."

"You do that."

The shift was subtle, but Peter caught Junior's gaze move. His eyes looked over the arachnid's shoulder, and a split second later, the spider-sense roared to life. The bartender was on the floor by the time Peter moved. A dart, wickedly sharp, shot past Peter, narrowly missing his arm.

Almost in unison, the dance floor goons trained their weapons on him and opened fire.

"What gives bro?!" Spider-Man hollered over the gunfire as he bounced across the floor, dodging gunfire and zipping between thugs. A pair of well placed web pellets downed two men.

Maybe he wasn't as cool with the VPD as he wanted to let on.

It would certainly explain the man's apparent anxiety over the situation.

Making his way through the room was effortless. He caught the twin ladies – one red, one white – watching him from the front entrance. He wondered what their role in this whole ordeal was.

He spotted one of the henchmen trying to make a call. Spider-Man's foot planting into the thug's stomach cut the call short, but he knew he couldn't stop everyone from calling in backup.

Assuming they hadn't already done so.

Better safe than sorry, he concluded, an idea forming when he glanced at the DJ station. One of the suits stood by the soundboard, a red and black bear mask encasing the majority of his head. The assault rifle he held thundered as he sprayed the floor around Spider-Man with Dust rounds.

Peter was in front of him in a flash. "Sup, Deadb3ar!" he taunted gleefully. A swift upper cut, followed by an elbow to the sternum put the musician flat on his back. The hero ducked when bullets whizzed overhead.

"Hope you guys don't mind a little music," he cackled as he reached up to the soundboard. The big nob labeled 'volume' quickly became his friend as he cranked it up. The music suddenly blared to roaring decibels. Nobody would be making any decipherable phone calls now.

He then spotted a similar control, but this time, for the lights.

"Or perhaps a little light show," he added menacingly. The moment he readjusted the second nob, the nightclub lights went into overdrive. Suddenly, the room was a strobe light extravaganza. Peter squinted and ultimately shut his eyes.

Spider-sense, your time to shine.

He closed his eyes as the disorienting room was painted in his mind's eye by his supernatural sense, free from the abhorrently bright flashing lights and only mildly disturbed by the loud music.

The hero vaulted off the DJ station. He could 'see' his foes. They were trying to get their bearings through the sudden sensory overload.

"Not much of a party animal," he shouted, although no one could hear him. He webbed up a pair of goons in the confusion. "But this is a beat I can get behind!"

He moved through their ranks without opposition. His enemies fired, but even under normal circumstances, dodging bullets was child's play for the hero. With enemies disoriented by a makeshift stun grenade the size of a dance floor, their aim was a joke.

Unbeknownst to the Earthling, two new sets of eyes would soon be on him. One amber, one a mix between pink and brown.

~X~

It had happened by chance. Blake saw the strange, dual-colored girl weaving across rooftops and between dark alleys. Her cat-like eyes tracked the stranger through the shadows effortlessly, wondering who she could be.

Several gray vans followed the girl as best as they could, zooming through the streets. Something inside the young faunus told her that things weren't as they seemed here. Something was going on.

And it was by a split-second decision that she quietly followed the strange group.

When the stranger approached a dark building, the young Belladonna watched as a large suited man ran out to greet her. The sliding doors to the vans opened as they screeched to a halt and…

Blake's eyes widened when figures rushed from the vehicles. Figures wearing familiar masks.

The White Fang…

The girl rushed inside before the door slammed shut. The remaining gunmen stayed outside and began forming a defensive perimeter. Blake watched as they took up positions around the building, hiding from sight.

When she noticed their positioning and the fact that they aimed their weapons at the building itself, she realized that this was no defense. They were prepping an ambush. But for whom?

It could have been another Dust heist or a gang war. It might have been Vale's masked vigilante or some other unforeseen factor. Whatever it was, Black wanted to know. What she did know was that their target was inside the building, and they were looking to flush it out.

She moved quickly, working her way around the surrounding buildings to get a better view of the whole complex that her quarry had rushed into.

The cellar door to the place was torn open. For a building guarded by a mountain of a man in a suit, it seemed awful careless to leave a door open.

Unless someone recently forced their way in.

She had seconds to spare before the group would surround the building and find the door. She needed to get in now.

With nimbleness characteristic of the animal after which her faunus heritage took its nature, she made her way down to the entry point. She could see the faintest traces of disturbances in the dust in the shape of footprints. Yes, someone had definitely gone in this way.

The student crept inside, wary of any traps. What was once a dark hallway was partially illuminated by the light behind an open door up ahead. From beyond the door thundered music that one would expect to hear at a nightclub. Blake spared no glance at the door as she entered a stockroom of sorts.

She ignored the crates for the most part. She thought she saw an open one stacked with wine, but paid it no mind. The second door, also open, led inside the nightclub, where music roared at unreasonable volumes and lights flashed with wild ferocity.

And above it all, her sensitive ears picked out gunfire.

Blake moved in, wincing and squinting at the sudden overload of light and noise. A shelf lined with fine wine blocked much of her view, but she knew beyond it lied a battle zone. Something serious was going down.

She looked around, finding a strange exit from the hidden area she had entered, where the shelf left room between itself and a low cut section of the ceiling. Blake rushed there and effortlessly hauled herself up and crouched low, once again squinting in the light.

And then she saw him.

Through the mess of flashing lights and pumping music assaulting her senses, she caught sight of a figure like no other. A blur, an almost invisible shadow against the backdrop of flashing lights, dashing between disoriented suited men with guns. They fired at him and shouted, but he just danced between them. A quick shot of something from his wrists here and one there, and two men fell subdued, weapons clattering uselessly to the ground.

In it all, the blasts were the first thing she used to truly identify the figure with. Too much light, too much noise. She couldn't make out color very well in the mess of strobe lights. But she could see the extravagant aerial acrobatics. She knew of one person in the city who was that agile and fired something from his wrists.

Blake inhaled sharply at the sight of her target, surprised at how lucky she was to have found him so quickly. No less surprising was the young man himself.

Even in the unyielding light, the faunus was able to catch sight of his movements. Years spent on the battle field had desensitized her somewhat to distractions like loud noises and lights. With each flash of fluorescent white, the vigilante moved across the room. Outrageously quick and agile, he dispatched opponents left and right. No one on that dance floor held a candle to him in the art of movement.

The flow of water was too rigid to compare this Spider-Man to.

No, he moved like lightning.

The reports don't do him justice. I haven't seen anyone this fast since...since…

Since Adam.

A thug went down. Another followed. It was happening so fast; between the light and the noise, she knew it was nearly impossible to track the other teen's movements – and if she was having a difficult time, the men on the dance floor were so hopelessly outmatched that it was comical.

The fact that he moved so effortlessly in conditions that should have crippled the senses lent to her theory that he was, in fact, a faunus. Humans just didn't have the kind of acute sensory required to make their way through this mess.

Heck, even most faunus lacked that kind of power. She wondered what kind of senses a spider faunus could boast that allowed him to retain clarity in circumstances like these?

The one-sided battle raged on before her. Spider-Man made quick work of his opponents, and he was running out of thugs to work through. Blake wondered what had started the whole ordeal.

She made a quick effort to focus more on the goons on the dance floor with an overqualified partner, but found that they were not, in fact, the White Fang. Probably the club's private guards.

Blake pursed her lips. How could she approach Spider-Man in all this? Through the conundrum, he might mistake her for an enemy, and it was unlikely her voice would carry over. She could try to make submissive hand signals, perhaps holding them up to show she meant no harm?

Then I'll have to wait until he's done out there, or else I'll get shot too. But that gives the White Fang time to-

The double front doors rolled aside. The music suddenly cut and the lights stopped flashing, instead reduced to a dull white glow. Spider-Man abruptly stopped. He was holding a club guard by the scruff of his neck when the world came to a screeching halt. Blake finally saw him in full. His trademark red and blue suit put from her mind any doubt she might have harbored that she was looking at the wrong man.

From the doors came forth a girl. Two more elaborately-dressed females were waiting by the door. Had they been there the whole time?

The middle girl was the strange, pink and brown character Blake had spotted earlier. She was shadowed by what looked like twin, elaborately-dressed sisters. One wore a red dress, the other a white one.

"Ice Cream!" Spider-Man abruptly shouted, gently tossing the disoriented goon aside. "Long time no see! How have you been?"

Blake blinked, her world momentarily screeching to a halt.

That voice...

His voice was heinously familiar. It was bombastic and enthusiastic – almost as if she was listening to a male version of Yang. Off the top of her head, Blake could only think of one person who matched that description in the slightest.

The pink and brown girl smiled and twirled her parasol. There was no warmth in her smirk. Spider-Man was unfazed by her silence.

"Good, good!" he continued. "And look! You're making friends! Oh I'm so proud of you - wasn't that long ago that you were trying to stab me in a dark alley! And now you've got Thing One and Thing Two, but with a wardrobe upgrade. All I'm missing now is a cat in a hat."

...What in the world is he talking about?

Said 'he' was also reminding her of RWBY's only male roommate, if only louder and more ecstatic.

But that comparison felt impossible after a moment.

Sure, they both fought with their hands, but Peter was brute strength. Sure he was quick, but his selling point was the monster power housed in his deceptively small frame. Spider-Man, from every account she had heard, and from first-hand experience, she knew had speed as his key strength.

For a moment, she considered the idea that the two were one and the same. But the idea of someone with reflexes so unnaturally quick and speed as intense as Spider-Man's coupled with the outlandish strength Peter boasted sent a chill down her spine.

If Peter was Spider-Man, then she'd have to acknowledge that kind of Semblance. If they were the same person, then in theory…

Then in theory she was looking at perhaps one of the most powerful individuals in the city. Probably one of the strongest huntsmen of his age.

The ability to move faster than most people can react and the strength to stagger a Deathstalker with a punch, never mind hauling the thing off a cliff...

Someone like that would have been able to dispatch nearly any opponent in a heartbeat. Blake had met powerful people in her life, but no one could boast free access to unnatural speed and reflexes along with monster strength, not to mention agility and flexibility to boot.

Even Adam, the strongest man she had ever met, had to sacrifice one of those aspects. He was fast and agile, but his offensive attacks could only reach such an apex if he could trick his opponent into feeding his Semblance.

If Peter was Spider-Man, that prerequisite didn't seem to exist. If the two were one and the same, then Spider-Man could harness strength untold at a moment's notice and find equal speed in equally short time.

Pyrrha Nikos, for example, was widely considered the strongest huntress of this generation of students. She was fast, nimble, and struck hard. Her Semblance was a mystery but she won tournaments without being so much as touched by the competition.

If someone like Spider-Man had Peter's strength, then he was not only faster than Pyrrha, but also hit harder.

His name would have been known worldwide. He would have been an international sensation and one of the top contenders for Pyrrha's title. He would have been her only opposition, the ultimate obstacle in her path to becoming the best, and she would have been his.

Their rivalry would have been legendary, their names going down in history. The girl who couldn't be touched versus the boy who ran like lightning and struck like thunder.

But none of that happened. Spider-Man was purely local and most of the people at school couldn't have cared less about who Peter was. One their own, Spider-Man and Peter had impressive Semblances with the former being famous for his actions and the latter only recently getting started at a huntsman academy.

As one, however, they would have demanded attention that made subtlety nigh impossible. And if Spider-Man was as serious about being a hero as Blake thought, and if Peter was to dedicate himself to the protective role of a huntsmen, why split his strength between two alter egos when more lives could be saved through full use of the Semblance?

"Ooohhh, was this a trap?" Spider-Man hollered from the dance floor. "No wonder Junior was so upset, what with him waiting for you guys to protect him from the big, scary Spider-Man." He paused to glance around. "Speaking of Junior...where did he go?"

What if they're connected, but not one?

A rationalization formed in the young Belladonna's mind, not of one individual, but of two – perhaps a pair of family members inheriting two opposite Semblances. Suddenly, it made sense. She imagined two brothers, one strong as a mountain but unable to move as fast as the other; the other quick as the wind but unable to match his sibling's raw power.

She felt as though that checked a number of boxes. Similar voices from similar genes, but Semblances as opposite as two unique souls could be. Aura and Semblances typically didn't follow the rules of DNA and genetics, so two brothers could have different Semblances while sounding or looking the same.

And if Peter and Spider-Man were related by blood, then it was likely that Peter was some kind of faunus who was trying to keep his nature a secret like she was. It would explain how he had noticed the Nevermore so easily.

And it would explain how both had gone so unnoticed. They could have been two sides of a coin – infinitely more subtle than one diamond jewel that would have been the result of a Semblance like Peter's and Spider-Man's fused together.

I can find a way to test this. Just need time.

In the meantime, she needed to deal with the ambush outside. If she made herself known now, the trio on the dance floor might call for help, and then they'd all be surrounded by armed men.

She'd deal with them first, and then return to help her quarry.

There was also the small issue of the fact that, if she was going to spend any time near Spider-Man, dozens of White Fang members would see her regularly. If she was going to work with the vigilante, her face might be all over the news, and she did not need that.

To take a page out of Spider-Man's book, Blake would need a mask. Plan A had been to use a piece of cloth that she had brought as a face cover, but the White Fang had involuntarily provided her with something a little more concrete.

She put the mask acquisition at the top of her priorities. In the meantime, the cloth would do.

Blake donned her impromptu cover and rushed back outside.

~X~

Ice Cream and the twins, it seemed, had no further patience for Peter's jokes. As a group, they dashed forward. Spider-Man backpedaled, employing a quick handspring to avoid what his spider-sense affectionately identified as a 'big problem' - namely, Ice Cream's foot.

Peter frowned and risked a glance at he DJ station. If he could get those lights running again, this fight would be a lot easier.

Spider-sense.

He dodged when the white twin's high kick – and razor toe knives – nearly caught his shoulder. He bounced back, landing in a crouch and firing twin web lines. The red twin dash in front of her sister, and with a quick flick of her wrist and a flash of steel, the lines were cut mid flight.

Razor-tipped shoes and gauntlets. Does these people have to turn everything into some sort of weapon?

Above.

He craned his neck to the side. Ice Cream's parasol – blade extended – plunged through the air where his head had been. The owner of said weapon appeared at his side. She threw a kick, wickedly fast, and aimed at his neck. Spider-Man leaned back, all too aware of the red twin's gleaming claws approaching his exposed chest.

He managed to slap away her hand with a precisely-aimed strike at her arm and narrowly avoid Ice Cream's heel, but the third threat materialized behind him. His spider-sense went wild. Caught between three attacks, he tried to avoid anything fatal, but something crashed against his lower back and sent him stumbling forward.

Again, his supernatural sense screamed, and he ducked, avoiding a blow. A shadow appeared before him and the last thing he saw before throwing himself to the side was Ice Cream's knee closing in on his face.

His desperate dodge worked, but the twins, sensing Spider-Man's splitting of attention between them, moved to capitalize on their golden opportunity. The red one was a fraction of a second faster than her sister. Her hand, encased in a clawed gauntlet that resembled Wolverine's legendary claws, fired towards Peter's head.

The youth's supernatural speed became his best friend – second only to the spider-sense – when the claws approached his side. He twisted and, with calculated precision, reached out and let the blades pass inches above his arm. His fingers curled around the girl's wrist. He heaved, yanking the Wolverine knock-off aside in time to block the white twin's kick, razor-tipped toes pointed away from him.

With a twirl, he threw the white twin where his spider-sense told him Ice Cream was approaching from. The parasol-wielding criminal, in turn, vanished in a flash. Peter was undeterred, pivoting on his foot and tossing the red twin next, her body crashing into her sister.

His third opponent appeared in front of him abruptly, startling the young hero. Her weapon, aimed at his shoulder, thrust out. Peter yelped and moved, the parasol blade slicing a tiny portion of his costume.

Man, she is fast.

Her second attack came out equally fast. He managed to block it and move for a counter strike, but just before his fist could connect, the mysterious woman shattered into glass. His fist passed through empty air, and the white twin was suddenly there, ready to rumble.

He redirected her blow with his forearm and away from his midsection, but this deterred neither her nor her sister. The red look-alike wasted no time in aiming her razor claws at his thigh. Spider-Man stretched, body lifting off the ground to avoid the low blow. He arched his back to make extra room between him and the blade.

He managed to land a kick on his way up on the white twin in the confusion, but his eyes then widened in dismay when he sensed the most dangerous of his three enemies thundering downward from above him. Still in the air, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to turn to protect his spine from getting the literal boot. Instead, he found a heel forcing the air from his lungs when it planted itself into his gut.

Peter wheezed when he crashed to the ground, flat on his back. Almost on reflex, his arms came up, but his fingers wrapped around empty air when his pastry-themed assailant disappeared in her trademark shower of glass and light.

The twins, whatever they had planned for Peter, was forced to a stop when he gritted his teeth and leaped to his feet. He whirled around, firing a pair of blasts of webbing at the two sisters. No sooner had he done that than he charged forward. As expected, the two cut through his webs with murderous ease, but didn't anticipate Spider-Man appearing in front of them.

He surged between them, one arm each looping around a twin. His grip locked, Peter threw himself to the floor, rolling with the pair in hopes that Ice Cream would have no opening in the tangle of limbs. Momentum carried their roll quite far.

Spider-Man ended up on top, a foot planted on the white one's chest while his arm held the red one up by the scruff of her dress.

A blast of webbing to the white twin's face at point blank range blinded her for a moment, and the arachnid focused on his red adversary. He tackled her to the ground, preparing to ensnare her in a web, only to be forced into a frantic dodge when his spider-sense warned him of a...a missile?

The projectile rocketed past him, exploding in a shower of debris and shrapnel on the far side of the room. Peter whirled around to find Junior approaching from the darkness. He held a massive shoulder mounted weapon.

"Oh what is this?" Spider-Man groaned. "The Flamboyant Four? What, did you guys have a club meeting about this or something?"

"Just business, kid," Junior grunted, taking aim once more. A series of smaller rockets fired this time, arcing through the air.

"Then I'm pretty sure there are anti-trust laws against this!" Spider-Man hollered, leaping out of the way of the closest rocket. The remaining ones trailed after him, and he flipped across the dance floor to avoid the series of following explosions.

The original trio got to work returning to the fight. Red went to work slicing his webs from her sister as Ice Cream charged. Spider-Man met her just as Junior charged onto the floor.

Her first attack was aimed high. Spider-Man moved with practiced ease to avoid the blow, engaging his opponent in a blur of motion. The young woman, ever quick, responded with a flurry of movement in response. A kick here, a blocked punch there – the two danced in a deadly pas de deux.

Junior joined, and Spider-Man ducked, a heavy club – he assumed it was the melee form of the rocket launcher – passed over his head. Ice Cream jumped back to give the larger man the space he needed to use his weapon of choice.

Peter sprung up from his crouch, planting a solid punch onto Junior's jaw. He caught side of the twins charging him, too.

He back flipped when Red's claws came dangerously close. The moment his foot hit the ground, he was rolling away from White's bladed toes. He caught a glance of the ceiling lights above the dance floor. It was like a carousel of spotlights.

Planning quickly, Spider-Man tensed his legs and leapt into the air. His jump was almost vertical, and he caught sight of his opponents throwing him mirroring looks of surprise. The vigilante fired a web line into the ceiling, and just as he did so, he rose to level with the second floor.

He grabbed his web line and scrambled up. His spider-sense warned him of an incoming danger, and he leaned out of the way of a projectile – an umbrella? Yes, it was Ice Cream's parasol.

It flew past him, slicing through the web line. Spider-Man fired another and jerked himself towards the circular array of spotlights. They burned a fluorescent white, threatening to blind him. He paid no heed and shut his eyes, spider-sense momentarily taking over his motion as he swung himself over to the upper side of the array.

Safely perched atop one of the lights, he opened his eyes. He glanced down. The twins were making their way up and Junior was prepping another rocket salvo. The other girl was nowhere to be seen.

"Speak of the devil," Peter grunted when his spider-sense went wild. A flash of steel appeared before him just before he jumped to another spotlight.

The brown-and-pink menace who owned the weapon nimbly jumped back to a spotlight of her own, feet placed delicately atop the slender frame supporting the two fighters. She smirked and twirled the umbrella before angling it at Peter.

The young vigilante wasted no time

The huntress – at least Peter assumed she was one – struck when he did. She dashed forward in a blur. Spider-Man vaulted over her, firing twin web blasts. She evaded them with a flash of light and a shatter of glass before reappearing on another spotlight. Spider-Man landed opposite her and fired more shots, which the girl avoided with ease, rapidly closing the distance.

Just before she could reach him, Spider-Man smirked. He vaulted backwards, adhesive foot anchoring him to the spotlight. He used his weight to drag the rear of the spotlight down, raising its glowing bulb at his approaching opponent. The beam was suddenly angled directly into her eyes.

He heard a gasp as he completed his flip. Ice Cream's hands had shot up, her teeth gritted in a pained expression from the sudden sensory overload her eyes were introduced to. Spider-Man fired twin lines of webbing, both finding their blinded mark. Gravity did the work as Peter plummeted to the ground, but a yank brought Ice Cream to him that much faster.

They collided midair. The young hero managed his weight and forced Ice Cream below him. Still stunned from the close encounter with the spotlight, she landed flat on her back, and he with his feet planted in her abdomen. The air was forced from her lungs and her squinting eyes shot open in shock.

"Neo!" cried one of the twins.

It took a moment for the young hero's mind to register that it must have been Ice Cream's real name.

A blast of webbing would hold her down for now. Peter put as much of the binding super-substance on her before another rocket was flying his way. He leapt off his opponent, projectile sailing past with a trail of fading smoke.

Junior's roar soon followed. The twins were closing in as well. Spider-Man smiled as the three rushed in. The man's rocket launcher collapsed into its melee form just as the twins lashed out.

He kicked Neo aside, still wrapped in webbing and stunned from the attack. Junior, quite fast for his size, reached Spider-Man first, opening with a swing akin to a batter with a Louisville Slugger. Peter leaned under the attack before vaulting over the first of the twins, Red, who had gone for a low-aimed blow. White's razor toes were next, but her advance was cut short when Spider-Man sidestepped and grabbed her by anchoring his adhesive fingers to her upper back.

He swung her around in time to meet the descending club that had been aimed at Peter. The girl yelped in pain when Junior's weapon crashed against her, sending her careening across the dance floor. Peter capitalized on the moment of Junior's shock by driving a fist into the man's solar plexus. Junior doubled over, wheezing, as his weapon clattered at his side.

"Is it wrong of me to say 'that's for ambushing me'?" Spider-Man questioned, looking down at Junior's form. He received a groan for an answer.

Peter then caught sight of Neo shaking her head clear, eyes regaining their sharp focus. Working fast, Spider-Man fired a glob of webbing at the red twin, plastering her to the floor and making sure he webbed her razor-tipped arms away from her body. The sound of shattering glass then greeted his ears. His supernatural sense went wild a moment later when Neo appeared beside him, launching a furious kick, her apparent favorite attack, at his head.

He blocked it with his forearm. The young woman's face was red with frustration, colorful eyes narrowed in a murderous glare. The white twin circled around to try and free her sister, but the boy knew her toe-blades would take a minute to cut through the amount of webbing he had just expanded. His left web-shooter was running low, but he had bought himself some time.

Neo, meanwhile, sparred furiously with Spider-Man. Her umbrella was missing, but if anything, her rage had made her more lethal. Spider-Man felt the pressure from her attacks.

Junior, stumbling slightly from the air he was still trying to bring back into his lungs, approached the fight once more. Soon, Peter found himself fending off two opponents again. He kicked off Junior's club when Neo retreated for a moment to give her partner a chance to work. No sooner had Junior swung his club than the enraged woman appeared at Spider-Man's side. He twisted to avoid her, only to find himself on the receiving end of Junior's surprisingly-fast swing. The club cracked against Peter's back with a solid thump, sending him clean through a glass display. He tumbled across the floor.

"Is it wrong of me to say 'that's for being an annoying brat'?" Junior sniped.

Just shake it off Spidey, Peter mentally told himself. He pushed the dull pain in his back to the back of his mind.

"I get it," Spider-Man grunted while rolling back to his feet in a crouched position. He aimed his right web-shooter at Junior. He fired. "The nightclub's owner has a club for a weapon."

"Dust, do you have an off switch?" Junior cried, dodging to avoid the web blast that almost hit him in the gut. He inhaled sharply when he heard White's surprised outcry when the blast hit her square in the face behind him. Her progress on Red's binds was put to a temporary halt.

Peter grinned. The perfect angle, he mentally cheered.

"Sorry, no," he replied. "But, I do come pre-installed with different genres of quips. For knock-knock jokes, press one. For bad puns, press two. To speak with a customer service representative, press three."

Neo chose that moment to appear in front of him. She crashed into him head on. Spider-Man caught her hands reaching up to his face just as she impacted. Her delicate face was contorted in a grimace of fury.

She kicked out at him and he jumped over her to avoid the blow. She immediately pounced upward, engaging the arachnid hero in a midair tackle.

Having nowhere to go, he was forced to deal with the ball of multicolored fury. She crashed into him and threw them both aside with momentum. They hit the ground tumbling, rolling across the dance floor. Despite Spider-Man's attempt at ending up on top, Neo pushed for dominance with aggressive progress.

She ended up straddling him, a hand gripping his neck. Peter grunted and grabbed her arm, forcibly prying the skinny but strong fingers from his throat. The girl was no weakling, but even while holding back the vast majority of his power for camouflage, the arachnid still overpowered her.

Spider-Man surged forward, throwing a surprised Neo to the side. He aimed a web-shooter, ready to subdue his opponent, but she shattered in a shower of glass again.

Peter sighed. Neo was a slippery one. He frowned, though, at the sight of the shattered glass she had left behind on the floor when she had disappeared. He had yet to see the stuff up close, until now.

This glass that she leaves behind when she teleports...it's physical. Almost like a clone or decoy.

He knew Semblances tended to stick to a theme. What were the odds that Neo could leave glass decoys and teleport?

Wait, what if she's not teleporting? What if that's not her Semblance at all?

Neo appeared at Junior's side, gesturing for him to go to the twins. He nodded and did so, launcher collapsing into a club. He rushed back to the girls just as Neo took a step forward, eyes settling on Spider-Man. Peter, in turn, watched her like a hawk.

Next time she does that, I'll try to focus on my spider-sense. Let it find her, not my eyes.

The young man smirked. "You know, I'm having a great time, Neo. We should do this again sometime. Say, tomorrow night? Between you and me, though, the bearded guy with a taste in weapons as unrefined as his wine doesn't add much. Leave him behind next time."

Neo's eyes narrowed dangerously. Her firsts clenched and she thundered forward. Spider-Man responded in kind, surging forward, fist balled and arm cocked back.

His eyes wandered aside, however, when he caught a glimpse of movement. A shadow descended from the darkness-

Spider-sense.

Peter let out a yelp when his distraction at the sight ruined his focus. He threw himself aside to avoid Neo's kick, but she still managed to nick his shoulder. Spider-Man landed in a roll, gaze snapping up just in time to witness a figure crash into Junior.

Neo and Spider-Man both froze when the nightclub owner was thrown from his kneeling position by the twins and into the wine bottle shelf with a shout. Bottles came toppling down on him even as a pool of glistening red wine grew around him. He groaned, shaking his head, and looked up with a pained expression.

All eyes were on the stranger. Garbed in black and white, she wore a White Fang mask framed by long black hair. At her side was a strange, black, cleaver-like blade. Spider-Man blinked. The whole outfit looked devilishly familiar.

"Who are you?" the hero grunted.

"Who the hell are you?!" Junior growled, rising to his feet.

"Mmmf!" cried one of the twins, mouth wrapped in webbing.

Junior and Neo managed to exchange wary glances right before the stranger swung her blade. An arc of purple energy thundered forward towards Junior. He gasped and dove out of the way, the glowing arc crashing into the wine shelf.

She whirled around, pointing the sword at Neo. The weapon transformed as the stranger wielded it, forming what Peter recognized as an odd pistol. The quick, rapid fire bursts of Dust rounds that were fired a moment later confirmed that suspicion. Neo dodged the attack with ease while Junior scrambled for his weapon.

Spider-Man moved. He couldn't quite place the girl's identity, but her allegiance did not lie with Junior and Neo. That was all he needed to know at the moment. He closed in on Neo, the most dangerous opponent in the nightclub.

She, in turn, vanished. Immediately, Peter shut his eyes and focused on the mental image that his spider-sense painted of the world around him. He 'saw' Junior battling the familiar girl. He sensed the glass still falling to the ground from where Neo had stood.

And then he sensed her. She was sailing through the air. Peter's eyes snapped open and he realized that he couldn't see her, and without focusing on his spider-sense's input, he found that he couldn't track her.

But she reappeared some distance away, sprinting towards something.

Peter rocketed after her. His hunch was right! She was not teleporting, but her presence was masked with something powerful. A disguise so keen that he had to focus hard on what his spider-sense told him in order to track her. It was like all those times he had used it to pick out minute details in his surroundings by blocking out his other, lesser senses.

As he chased Neo, he saw Junior marching towards the newest addition to the party, his fingers wrapped around the club. Neo, meanwhile, swooped low and scooped something off the ground. Spider-Man recognized her signature umbrella.

She pivoted on her heel, turning to face the arachnid. Her parasol was aimed forward at him and her eyes never left his form. Spider-Man closed the distance in moments, choosing to save his web fluid for the time. That proved to be a mistake, because as soon as he reached Neo, something flashed in her eyes, and she was gone.

Spider-Man focused again. He caught the faintest glimpse of her in his mind's eye.

"Crap," the hero managed out when he realized where she was heading. "Look out!"

The girl in the White Fang mask looked over her should just in time to see Neo appear, descending upon her, bladed tip of her parasol aimed at her spine. The girl tensed and jumped back, leaving something in her wake. Peter's eyes widened when Neo's weapon sank into a stone replica of the masked girl.

That Semblance...and the hair, the weapo- is that Blake?!

Blake, if it truly was her, leapt away from Neo. Junior made a dash for her, club raised over his head. She rolled aside as the blunt weapon smashed against the floor where she had been standing, shattering the tile finish.

For a moment, Spider-Man was stunned into inaction. Why was Blake here? Why was she wearing a White Fang mask of all things?

Neo continued to wrestle her parasol from the stone statue of Blake while Junior and the girl in question sparred. Although it was clear Blake had the upper hand over the slower, less elegant bruiser. When Peter saw Neo had removed her weapon and was training her eyes on Blake, his surprise was replaced by the realization that Neo was still very much intent on making this a two-versus-one fight by getting rid of the newcomer.

Acting fast, Spider-Man leapt through the air, flipping to make sure he landed facing Neo. He did just that, feet touching down between the brawl occurring between Junior and Blake and the umbrella-wielding maniac intent on ending the latter of the two.

Neo skidded to a stop, eyes trained on the arachnid. Before she could make a move, however, she froze when a sound reached the ears of the group. From somewhere nearby – just outside, by Peter's estimation – roared the sound of police sirens.

Spider-Man could tell Junior and 'Blake' – he was still having trouble believing it was her – had also stalled their fight. Still, Peter smirked at the sound of the VPD. "Just like last time, eh, Neo?" he drew out the name to play with the criminal.

She shot him a venomous look before huffing and tensing. Peter knew what would happen closed his eyes. As the elusive girl vanished in a flash of light, Peter focused in on the mental picture his spider-sense was painting of the room. His supernatural sense had been trained on her even before she vanished.

Except, unbeknownst to her, Spider-Man could 'see' her in his mind's eye. His focused spider-sense tracked her movements, almost invisible even to him, as the faint trace of her presence rocketed through the open doors.

He had been about to go after her when he heard Junior's weapon clatter to the ground. He turned to find the man getting down on one knee, hands folded behind his head. Blake had her cleaver raised to his throat.

On instinct, Peter's eyes moved to the other girl.

The outfit, the weapon, the Semblance, the hair – it all screamed Blake. It had to be Blake but Peter couldn't believe it was her because why was she in a White Fang mask?

But who else could it have been?

Peter realized that there was too much to be done. Neo was escaping, and Junior needed to be taken into custody. If the man had as much leeway with the police as he claimed, Spider-Man suspected that he'd need to stay to corroborate anything to help ensure Junior was locked up.

And he certainly wasn't going to leave 'Blake' here with him. He wasn't fully trusting of anyone wearing the Fang's signature attire just yet.

If I chase Neo now Junior gets a free pass to feed the police whatever junk he comes up with as a cover up. I might not find her, and he might go free with a pat on the back from the police. Plus…

Spider-Man glanced at Blake. She, in turn, pivoted her head to look back at him.

...I need to figure her out. But how do I do that without giving her ideas about who I am? What if she recognizes my voice?

Peter knew he couldn't handle all of those things in unison. Making a quick decision, he refrained from chasing the elusive Neo. She would be back. There would be another time and he'd capture her. One thing at a time; right now, that thing was Junior. Then Blake. Then Neo. Then whoever sent them.

Rushing footsteps greeted the group's ears. Again, Peter glanced at Blake. He'd have to be careful talking around her, in case she heard the Peter Parker in him.

"Police!" thundered a voice as a group of men and women rushed through the double doors to the dance floor. Garbed in blue and holding out pistols with styles very different from Earth's, the group scanned the room. Their eyes fell on the mess in the middle.

"Gentlemen!" Spider-Man greeted with an exaggerated wave as he stepped forward. He tried to deepen his voice a bit to sound less like Peter around Blake. Anything to keep his identity safe while still getting Junior locked up.

"Freeze!" shouted the lead officer.

"Right, standard procedure and stuff," Spider-Man complied. He raised his hands in a mock gesture while nodding to Junior.

The cops moved down the stairs, scanning the room as a unit. Finding no traps or devices, they moved to the dance floor, weapons still on…

Why are all the guns pointed at me?

And Blake, apparently.

"Spider-Man, you're under arrest for assaulting this establishment and for involvement with the White Fang."

Peter blinked. "What."

The officer produced a pair of handcuffs. Peter lowered his arms, to which the cop replied by training his pistol on him again. "Hands behind your back!" he roared.

"I didn't- "

"Cuff that freak, officer!" Junior shouted. "Him and his girlfriend were about to kill me! Something about 'sending a message!'"

'Blake' whirled around. "No we weren't!" she shouted. She even sounded like the Blake Peter knew.

"Then explain all this!" another officer growled, gesturing to the dance floor. The unconscious or webbed up bodies of the thugs Peter had fought earlier were still strewn about the place.

"And explain the small army of White Fang trash outside this place!" said another officer. She glared at Spider-Man, then at black.

White Fang outside?

Spider-Man knew nothing about that but he knew how bad the situation looked for him.

It had been a setup the whole time, he realized. Junior had put them right where he wanted. He didn't kneel in surrender to his arrest – he had disarmed himself to make it look like he had been beaten to put on a show for the police!

"Now, hands behind your back," commanded the officer. "Let's make this nice and easy and nobody gets hurt."

"I didn't assault this place! Junior attacked first!" Peter cried.

"You broke into my home and threatened me to my face, 'course I fought back!" shouted the club owner.

"Quiet, both of you!" barked the officer. "Spider-Man, stand down! And someone, cuff that girl already."

Not like this. Too much bad evidence stacked against me, and way too many people on Junior's side here. Sorry Ozpin, looks like you're coming back from the forest to a royal headache.

Spider-Man jumped, performing an elaborate backflip to dodge a bullet from a trigger-happy officer midair, and landed on the wine shelf. He rapidly retreated to the opening that he knew would lead to the tunnel he had used to get into the place to begin with. The shouts of officers greeted his ears.

He was outside in moments, slipping effortlessly through the darkness of the tunnel, guided by his spider-sense. Once outside, he rapidly changed the cartridges in his web-shooters, knowing he was out of sight. As he leapt up and swung away, he noticed the bodies of White Fang members lying around the nightclub. Just what had happened?

Spider-Man landed on the wall of a crane parked in a construction zone not far from Junior's club. He was heading deeper into the industrial district. Clamoring along the side of the crane, he jumped to the wall of a half-completed building, several stories high, and made his way up.

He hauled himself over the edge, high above the streets below and out of reach of the cops. The wind was colder up here. The steady breeze sent a chill through his suit as it swept up stray cigarette butts along the rooftop. Somewhere to the side, a crow squawked.

Peter's breathing was a little labored from the fight and the getaway. He felt a bead of sweat run down his arm.

"That scheming little weasel," the youth grunted. "Setup twice by the same lowlife in less than an hour…Ugh, I should have expected something if I thought the guy worked with Torchwick of all people!"

And then there was the issue of-

Subtle movement caught his eye. Immediately, he froze when a familiar masked figure came up over the side of the rooftop. She moved with practiced grace, raven hair flowing behind her as she landed. Spider-Man heard her breathing, a little winded just like he had been.

...Blake.

There was silence between the two, even when the girl looked up at him. The blank White Fang mask's hollow eyes met the expressionless lenses of one of New York's greatest heroes. The duo stared each other down for several moments. Finally, Peter watched his mysterious aide rise to her feet. She did so slowly and deliberately, showing him her hands as a sign of a submissive gesture.

And then for the first time, the cat spoke to the spider.

"Hello, Spider-Man."

~X~

It didn't make sense. Ozpin's eyes darted about, searching the woods. Glynda was not far from him, equally unnerved. Her lips were pursed. Not far ahead of them, Peter Port rapidly scoured the thick underbrush for signs of Grimm presence, past or present.

None of it made sense.

Ozpin's knowledge of Wendigos exceeded that of his peers. He recognized from the look of the Wendigo that it was no toddler by Grimm standards, but it was far too young to be pulling maneuvers of this capacity. Only the oldest Grimm toyed with Huntsmen like this.

Where is it?

It was gone. It wasn't following the last known location of Team JNPR and it was no longer on the cameras. It had just up and vanished.

Where is it?

One didn't simply lose a Wendigo like this. And while Wendigos could be spectacularly powerful, this one was just too young to be so smart as to lure out prey like this.

Its sudden appearance, its avoidance of all the surveillance systems in place, and its disappearance and failure to follow its prey like the behavior of Wendigos indicated kept pointing to a reality Ozpin did not want to admit.

There was no way something so foreign to this region of the world snuck all the way into his backyard without anyone noticing. There was no way it could have vanished so quickly afterward. And unless some other unfortunate soul had inhaled its gas – which implied a random person had also snuck in undetected – and lured it away from Team JNPR, then there was no reason for it to not be approaching the walls.

No, none of it made sense. Unless…

Unless Ozpin's theory was right.

This is no mere Grimm attack, is it?


A/N: One word: college. That is my excuse for this hiatus. It's been a very intense semester and most of the work I got done on this chapter was on breaks, particularly over winter break. Ideally, future delays wont be like this, as I settle into new schedules and the whatnot. That said, it's good to be back, and I hope you are all doing well!

So, I realize that Blake, being perceptive, has a decent amount of evidence to go off of to figure out Spider-Man's identity. However, there's this idea that people will sometimes see what they expect to see, and Blake certainly didn't expect Peter. We got a glimpse into Blake's understanding of Peter and Spidey's Semblance(s) and why they cannot, theoretically, exist in one person. I think having her assume a familiar relationship between the two is a fairly natural way of keeping her from learning Spidey's secret identity so fast.

As for Neo's Semblance...I'll admit, I'm not sure how she 'teleports' canonically, as I've only seen the writers describe her powers as the ability to create 'physical illusions'. I have an idea for how to explain her 'teleporting,' but we'll save that for a future chapter.

In regards to Spider-Man holding his own against Neo, the twins, and Junior; I think it's totally plausible. If he can take on the likes of the Sinister Six, I'm going to imagine he can hold his own against Neo and a few mini-antagonists from RWBY, but he'd probably get hit a few times against multiple people like that.

Thank you again to everyone for reading despite my school-enforced hiatus. Happy New Year's, friends!

guardian xela: Yes, I did!

Machcia: I certainly wouldn't mind, but it would happen later on down the line.

Darth Cody: Yes, but I actually chose the name before I learned of that. No relation to Marvel's version.

Jedi Alex Colbent: I had an issue with the early seasons of Ultimate Spider-Man (too many attempts at random humor and failure to really produce a coherent plot) and its successor, Marvel's Spider-Man (really weird animation and changes to characters in all the wrong ways).

MythAnime: He's technically not the 616 version, but I wouldn't say he found the gas unbelievable. He found it scientifically monumental, yes, but he was more so surprised at the Grimm themselves (soulless killing machines that also have super powers and vaporize upon death),

MeteorElDrago: I'm not sure if I'll bring any enemies over, just because I'm afraid of robbing RWBY of its unique identity and replacing it with a Marvel world. I think the series deserves some independence.

Jeggetts4. 0: Yeah, it was administered. I touched upon it only lightly last chapter.

AhappyReader: Glad to hear that! Also admit to LOL-ing at your ship joke!

Jack54311: Admittedly, I didn't know the Wendigo existed in the Marvel universe when I chose the name. I'm not very familiar with X-Men storylines.

guardian xela: Exactly! Less acrobatics while Peter, less super strength while Spider-Man. I'm not against more interludes, just gotta find the right times to put them in.

tomahawkESP: Perhaps. Still debating on a 'superhero' name for the gal.

Croniklerx: I'll PM you a response asap (4 AM here so it might not be for a little while).

Guest: I can't answer that just yet, but if I do reach Oscar at some point, I'll definitely try to give him more personality.

ARK. T. Maxwell: Oversleep's hiatus is due to me not actually playing games lately. College has left me little time for that, and with all the updates to Warframe, the amount of new lore is tremendous. I'm awfully out of date on that subject, and until and if I find time to catch up, Oversleep is in a bit of an awkward spot.

Guest: You know, the radioactive blood sample thing is a pretty cool idea. I actually hadn't thought of that. I might look into a way to throw that in without making it a plot point for plot point's sake. As for Morlun; sick-looking villain! And yeah, Spidey is crazy strong, hence why I haven't given him any powers, but I'm open to him gaining perks through his explicit work (say, Dust integration into his gear). And thank you for the links to learning more about his feats, I appreciate that!

Raiju001: Great question about the Wendigo's soul drain vs. Peter's lack of an Aura! Who knows, maybe it will become a relevant concept soon? :)