[Third Person Pov]
A group of men were seen rushing across the sand-choked parking lot, their steps uneven as they hurried toward the pair of black cars that had been shoved out of place by the earlier wave of sand, dust still clinging to the windows and tires.
With a sharp click from their keychains, the two vehicles chirped in response. The locks popped up with a metallic clack that seemed far too loud.
"We have to get out of here—now," Martin snapped. His already unpleasant face twisted into something even more grotesque as panic settled in. "If it was just Marko, I could threaten him with his daughter's life, but those Super-Freaks were out there too. I'm not messing with all of them at once."
"Do you really think we'll be able to escape?" one of his henchmen asked, voice unsteady. He kept glancing over his shoulder as they moved around the cars, checking every shadow. "Rumor is they've got eyes everywhere in the city. Every alley, every rooftop…"
"Relax," Martin growled. "We still have the girl. As long as she's with us, they won't—"
He cut himself off as he climbed into the middle seat of the car. The door slammed shut behind him, and he frowned. The moment he tried to settle back, he realized something was wrong. He wasn't sitting. He was… floating? And there was something solid—someone—under him.
"What the—"
Nightwing dropped his invisibility in a ripple of blue static, materializing beneath him. He stared up at Martin with a bright, infuriating grin.
"Normally Santa would ask what you want for Christmas," Nightwing said cheerfully, "but we're out of season, and from what I'm hearing, you've been extremely naughty."
The reaction was immediate. The men in the car screamed, scrambled, and tried to pull weapons, but the cramped space turned into a blender of limbs and panic. From the outside, the vehicle shook violently, bouncing on its suspensions.
Thuds, cracks, and grunts rattled the frame. Gunshots flashed against the tinted windows, followed by a sizzling spark of electricity and a choked yell. Then—silence. Heavy, absolute silence.
For a few seconds, nothing moved.
Then a body launched forward, shattering through the front windshield and landing sprawled across the hood, unconscious, face swollen and streaked with blood. The car groaned as someone shifted inside.
Nightwing stepped out casually a moment later, brushing dust from his suit. A limp henchman dangled halfway out of the car behind him until Nightwing nudged the man back inside with a firm kick and shut the door.
He glanced toward the second car—and blinked.
The entire roof had been melted clean off, the molten edges glowing a sluggish, dangerous red as they dripped like caramel onto the sand below. The men inside were scattered unconscious across the seats, covered in scorched patches and soot, groaning faintly.
Firestar—Lizzy—leaned against the hood with one leg crossed over the other, striking a pose like she was in the middle of a magazine photoshoot rather than a battlefield. Her expression was pure, self-satisfied mischief.
"Body so hot I can turn any car into a convertible." she purred the moment Nightwing got close enough to hear.
Harry barked out a loud laugh. Lizzy only doubled down, dragging her tongue across a fingertip before pressing it to the side of her hip. A sharp hiss erupted as actual steam rose from the contact point.
Shaking his head, amusement dripping from every word, Harry radioed in with a grin, "Mission accomplished. Over and out."
…
"Roger, Roger," Peter said, tapping the communicator in his ear. His gaze softened as he looked down at Marko and Keemia, watching the father clutch his daughter like she might disappear if he blinked.
"I'm so sorry… this is all my fault… I'm so, so sorry…" Marko repeated, the words tumbling out in a trembling loop as he pressed his forehead to hers. His massive arms wrapped around her with surprising gentleness, sand still drifting off him like dust.
The rest of the team watched with small but genuine smiles. After everything, seeing Keemia bury her face into her father's chest, forgiving him without hesitation, was enough to make even the most battle-hardened among them soften.
Keemia turned toward the group, her eyes sparkling with awe and excitement. "Dad… are you actually friends with Spider-Man and all the other superheroes?! That's so cool!!"
"I wouldn't go that far—" Marko began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. But before he could finish, Peter swooped in.
Peter slapped a hand against Marko's back. "What are you talking about? Of course he is! Your father and I go way back. Right, man?" he said, slinging an arm over Marko's shoulders.
Marko made a noise that was half-snort, half-scoff. "I suppose… you could say we have history…"
"Awesome…" Keemia whispered reverently. Then she looked around, scanning faces, as if searching for someone specific.
Gwen crouched down next to her. "What's up? Did you lose something?"
Keemia fidgeted, pressing her fingertips together. "Umm… where's Nightwing?"
Everyone blinked. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Marko's expression dropped into suspicion. "Why do you want to know?"
Keemia turned away shyly, cheeks warming. "He's my favorite…"
Peter's jaw dropped. "Why is he everyone's favorite!?!" he yelled, arms flailing dramatically. "Every kid we meet loves that guy! For what reason?!"
"…He's very handsome," Keemia admitted in a tiny voice, covering her face with both hands.
Marko's eye twitched. The girls snickered behind him.
Peter, wounded beyond measure, pouted and muttered, "I'm handsome too… you just can't see it…"
Keemia stared at him with the blunt, devastating honesty only a child could wield. "I mean, as cool as you are… you're pretty weak."
Peter froze. "…Huh?!"
"Keemia," Marko warned, giving her a mildly scolding look.
"What?" she shrugged. "Dad beat him in a fight. So he's weak."
Peter leaned forward, arms crossed, glaring at her. "For your information, that fight doesn't count. Your dad ran away with his tail between his legs."
"Liar!" Keemia fired back, planting both hands on her hips as she leaned toward him. "My dad totally kicked your butt! You're just too embarrassed to admit it!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
Within seconds, both of them devolved into blowing raspberries at each other like two kindergarteners.
"Okay, enough," Felicia said, grabbing Peter by the back of the suit and dragging him away. She shot him an amused smirk. "What are you, a child?"
As she hauled him aside, Keemia giggled brightly. "He's pretty funny."
Marko watched her laugh—really laugh—and the hard lines on his face softened into something almost peaceful. For the first time since he had lost her, he allowed himself to breathe.
Meanwhile, Peter sulked off to a corner, hugging his knees and drawing sad circles on the ground. "Maybe I should go around without my mask and fight crime…" he mumbled dramatically.
"Absolutely not," Felicia deadpanned, arms crossed. She already knew what kind of chaos Peter's face alone could unleash on the general public. "Why are you this affected?"
Peter sniffled. "I just want fans too… Every kid loves Nightwing… Where's the love for Spidey?"
Felicia hooked two fingers into his hood, lifting him off the ground like a misbehaving kitten. "Your fans are in the form of three gorgeous girls," she teased, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Now come on. We can't spend all day having your pity party."
Keemia skipped ahead down the worn metal steps, humming softly as the girls followed behind her like a protective entourage. Their laughter echoed lightly down the stairwell, a welcome contrast to the chaos from just minutes earlier.
Peter and Marko trailed behind at a slower pace. Peter's earlier goofy theatrics faded into something calmer, more grounded. He glanced over at Marko, studying the man's expression—one caught halfway between relief and dread.
"You got any plans?" Peter asked quietly. "For what you're gonna do next?"
Marko exhaled, the sound rough around the edges. His eyes softened as he watched Keemia practically float between Gwen and Felicia. "I'm still trying to figure that out… The only thing I'm sure of is that I want to do right by her. She deserves that much."
Peter nodded thoughtfully. "Can I throw something out there?"
Marko shrugged. "Go ahead."
"Clean your record," Peter said simply. "Start over. You're still technically on the run, and—look, with a clean sheet? There's a future for you. Options you can actually choose instead of getting forced into."
Marko let out a short, humorless laugh. "You say that like it's easy. There's no such thing as 'starting over' for someone like me."
"Says who?" Peter shot back, scoffing. "Look, I know someone. A great lawyer. Best criminal defense attorney I've ever met. She deals with impossible cases for breakfast. If anyone can help you, it'll be her."
Felicia smirked over her shoulder—very deliberately not commenting.
Marko frowned. "Lawyers are expensive. And I'm not exactly—"
"Don't worry about that," Peter cut in, waving the concern away like an annoying fly. "Leave the logistics to me. But—and this is important—you gotta want this. Actually want it. I can open the door, but I'm not dragging you through it."
Marko slowed a bit, weighed down by the sincerity. "How can I ask you to do that for me? You've already helped me more than you should. Especially with Keemia. I haven't even begun to repay you. I can't take more favors—I don't want to feel like some charity case."
Peter clasped his hands behind his head, strolling casually. "Oh don't worry. You will pay me back. This isn't free."
Marko raised an eyebrow. "What? You want me to pay in installments or something?"
"Nah," Peter said with a grin. "I don't need your money."
"Then how the hell am I supposed to repay you?"
"You're gonna pay me back with good deeds," Peter said, dropping the playful tone. His voice turned sincere—earnest. "Just like I tried to show you some goodwill today… you pass that on. To anyone. To everyone. I'm not asking you to be a superhero. Just help where you can. An old lady crossing the street. Someone who dropped their groceries. A guy who needs directions. The tiny things."
Marko stared at him—at Spider-Man—with open disbelief. It was so simple. So ridiculously simple he didn't know how to respond.
Peter stepped down another pair of stairs, turning slightly, speaking over his shoulder.
"Pass that debt forward. When you can influence others to do the same, even in small ways… that's when you've paid me back. That's how you repay a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
The girls in front of them glanced back with proud, affectionate grins. They'd seen it countless times—Peter's heart doing what Peter's heart did best.
Peter was on the last step when he turned and extended a casual, almost lazy, fist back toward Marko "So… what do you say? You game?"
Marko looked from Peter… to his daughter up ahead, her tiny hand brushing the railing, her laughter echoing off the stairwell walls. A new beginning. A real one. Maybe the first he'd ever had.
His throat tightened. Slowly, he lowered his head… then raised his fist.
"It seems I'm in your debt until further notice… Spider-Man," he said quietly.
Their fists met.
A faint pulse—sand and static intermixing—flashed around their knuckles, marking the start of something new.
Something better.
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+5 advance Chapters on: patreon.com/Shadow_D_Monarch3
A/N: 400 CHAPTERS WOOOHOOO 🍾 🥂 🎉 🎊 🎉 🎊 🎉 and it still hasn't been a year since Peter became Spider-Man!! Let's fucking goooo!! (Thank you all for the support)
Ps. MERRY CHRISTMAS!! HO HO HO 🎄 🎁 🎅
This is my gift to you, a chapter of Spider-Man being Spider-Man. Now before anything I have an announcement to make, it's been brought to my attention that ever since I start writing I have never really taken some time off, and I've been writing for years now, like around 3 years or so, so I've been forced to take a week long break for myself by my patreon chat! Isn't that great! Now if you want anyone to blame be sure to put all your blame on them and not me 😉😘
Anyways once again MERRY CHRISTMAS 🎅 🎄 I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY YOUR PRESENTS