Chapter Text
Keith could have so easily been the villain of this story. Coming into the power that he did would send anyone down a spiral of what if’s and temptations and challenges to one’s morals. However, the timing of it all prompted that spiral to lead him on the wrong path instantly. And he almost followed.
It had been a rough day overall, but nothing that wasn’t proving above average for an angsty freshman just dying for summer to finally free him from his classmates. It was the second time he was called into the office that day, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the news he’d receive. There, sitting in the chairs was Shiro with his head in his hands and Adam sitting next to him rubbing circles into his back. With how many times Keith has been in that office, he’d gotten used to the weird stickiness of the air, but this time it was enough to suffocate on. He knew as soon as he walked in that something was wrong. Never had he been called to the office with Shiro already waiting there to pick him up, yet here he was and all of Keith’s brother alarms were going off.
Shiro’s were too apparently because he looked up as if sensing Keith had entered the room. He was up in an instant and Keith caught a glimpse of tear tracks from red rimmed eyes before he was dragged into a crushing hug. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around Shiro while looking over his shoulder to try and get an explanation from Adam. He opened his mouth as if to give one, but none came. Seemingly at a loss for words, he solemnly joined the huddle they created.
After receiving the news of his dad’s death, the rest of the day seemed to flicker in and out. One second he was in the office being held by Shiro and Adam, and the next he was outside running for the front gate of the school. He ran to a subway station with nothing but his backpack and a horrible mess of emotions fighting in his brain. He probably looked like any of the other weirdos down there with how much of a zombie he felt like, everything numb and at any second his bones could give out from under him. They kind of did at some point in his wandering so he sat down on a bench and just watched the trains fly past in the Tube.
Keith’s not sure how long he sat there for, but it wasn’t long before dark thoughts were crawling up his throat. With every train that went through, a whisper would remind him just how easy it is to get down to the tracks and let the next one carry him off to oblivion.
He was glad there was such bad service down there because that meant no one could reach him. The quiet pace of people passing picked up though when rush hour crept up on him. Realizing all those faceless people were real got him moving again. He was done with the trains, the loud whips from air being sliced through, the chatter and footsteps, the dirt and smoke everywhere. He just wanted everything to be quiet and a place where he could be alone.
Keith had only tried running away a handful of times, but this was something else. He wanted to be alone, but he wanted to be held. He wanted to disappear, yet he wanted someone to find him. He wanted silence, but his brain made more noise than the squealing brakes of the subways.
He found himself wandering down a maintenance tunnel that diverged from the tracks and found he didn’t like how much quieter it was. His thoughts swarmed with his father, the last time he saw him smile, the last time he heard his laugh, the last deep conversation he remembered them having.
On the rooftop of their apartment building, he joined Keith to watch the sunset, camera in hand waiting for the perfect moment when the sun sent tendrils of light stretching over the city skyline. His dad asked him then what he wanted to do with his life. Being fourteen and barely surviving high school hunting grounds, Keith had no idea how to answer. All he knew was that art, photography, and drawing were things that he liked, hobbies that could potentially serve as a job one day. His father joked that Keith wouldn’t be taking on a heroic role like the rest of the family. He himself was a fireman, their mom worked in the military and after a recent promotion it had her away from home nine months out of twelve, and Shiro was starting to make quite a name for himself in the police force. The joke landed oddly and Keith could tell somewhere in his dad’s eyes that he was disappointed about it. Despite that though, he turned to Keith with support reassuring that he had greatness in him and whatever he chose to do with his life, it would affect others.
He was pulled out of the memory when he heard voices sounding off to the left. It was another branch off from the main track and he continued down the maze of tunnels. It led him to a room full of construction equipment around the sides and blocking a path further in. He ducked behind some of it to hide once he saw people in the center of the room. He knew he shouldn’t even be down here, he was probably trespassing, and he definitely didn’t want to be found by some construction workers. Only, when he popped his head up to get a better look at the people, none of them looked like they were going to be doing any drilling or hammering. He couldn’t really make out any faces, the part he chose to hide at only having a small gap to look through, but he tuned into the conservation.
They were talking about some kind of plan, some kind of power, and something about electricity. Okay, so maybe these guys were just construction workers, but the tone shifted. They started talking about numbers, how many people, how many deaths , and Keith made the frightening realization he probably just stumbled across a gang or crime organization meeting. And then he heard it: the news of the fire his dad had fallen victim to. It all sounded like… they were the ones responsible for it.
At that moment, something tickled at his forearm, scaring him and his tense muscles jerked from suspense. A spider had crawled up and he hastily brushed it off, but in doing so he knocked his hand into some leaning wooden boards, sending them clunking on the ground before he could catch them. He froze. Everything froze. He looked back through the gap and saw someone point in his direction, “Go check it out.”
Without a response, one of the members was heading towards him and trying to make their way around all the equipment. Keith couldn’t move; frozen with terror yet his mind was screaming to get out get away get out!
The person stopped to turn and shared a few words with the others, but Keith couldn’t hear it, too focused on what looked like a whole ass machete of a sword that they were holding. Oh my god, he was going to die.
Keith held his breath as the person continued in their search and blood roared in his ears. His heart quickened with every step closer they made, heading right towards him. They might as well have been right on top of him until Keith finally snapped out of his frozen state when everything in him screamed RUN!
And he did. He scrambled out of his hidey-hole and ran back the direction he came from, kicking up dust and making it painfully clear where he was. The sword wielder called out to the group as they swiped at the obstacles in their way.
Keith booked it back to the main track, forcing his legs to push even harder as he ran for his life. He was about to thank whatever god was out there for his good sense of direction, when he slipped on some loose cement. He didn’t dare look at how close the others had gotten to him but he could tell based on the sound of metal hitting rock right where Keith was on his knees just seconds before.
He ran and ran and didn’t even tempt the thought of stopping when he finally reached a platform. He just kept running, praying that he’d be able to lose whoever was following him up in the busy streets of New York. But still he ran, not wanting to risk it and not being able to slow his momentum. His heart was in his throat and adrenaline electrified his veins.
It wasn’t until he finally got back to his apartment building that he allowed himself to feel some semblance of safety. He knocked on the door not bothering with the keys in his backpack or worrying about how angry Shiro would be that he didn’t come back until night (apparently).
The door opened in an instant and sure enough, Shiro was right there scolding him for running away, for not answering his phone, for scaring him. It all caught up to him in that moment watching the fear and hurt swirl in Shiro’s dark eyes. His dad was dead, his mom would be coming back because of it, he just tried running away, he stumbled upon a crime organization, found out they were responsible for his dad’s death, and then ran for his life from said crime organization.
He crashed into Shiro and clutched at the back of his shirt. Shiro reciprocated, holding him with just as much intensity, cradling the back of his head and crying, “Don’t ever do that again,” into his layered hair.
After many apologies and privately refusing to worry them further with sharing what he found, Shiro and Adam finally let Keith go to bed, but it was one of the worst night’s sleep he’d ever had. Despite how exhausted he was, his brain was still processing everything that happened. It didn’t help he could never get comfortable; his skin itched and his muscles ached. Everything felt amplified as the night went on, the AC droning into his ears and every time he tried closing his eyes, starbursts exploded behind his eyelids. He couldn’t escape from overstimulation. He was just grateful no one would be forcing him to go to school the next day.
It wasn’t until the weekend that Keith finally left the apartment—finally able to since Shiro and Adam were out for meetings and other legal stuff. Keith didn’t even realize where his feet were taking him before he was back at that underground room, but there was no one there. There wasn’t even any evidence left behind to suggest the encounter was even real. Grief is a funny thing, but Keith knew what happened and he was angry.
He’d be lying if he denied his want for revenge. With the new abilities he discovered, he focused on any information he could find on the mysterious crime organization. It was so frustrating getting descriptions but then finding the location to be clear. It was like hunting cryptids you knew were real, but the tracks kept running cold.
Keith ended up starting to use a lot of skills he forgot about, like investigation skills he learned while watching Shiro do his homework over his shoulder, or old karate lessons coming back to him when he needed some self-defense. Not to mention all the new abilities like his increased metabolism, abnormal healing speed, and… stickiness. It took a while to get used to the sudden developments, but Keith is adaptable.
Although, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to his new enhanced senses, not to mention the weird sixth sense he has now. He’d compare it to synesthesia but that’s where your senses mix, his is a whole separate thing. It’s like he’s got antennae picking up everything around him and feeding it into feelings only his mind can translate. It’s like having a second conscience that only appears front and center in his brain like an alarm system. It makes all his other thoughts just as loud. You’re too close to the wall, you’re going to bump into someone, the desk is too cold under your arms, don’t look at me like that, what is that smell on the bus today, everyone chews so loudly.
He bought some noise canceling headphones to see if it would help blocking out one of his senses and it did. He doesn’t dare try listening to music with them on though, too afraid the beat will spike through his skin and put more tension on his other senses. But they help, and he wears them as often as he can without people thinking he’s being rude—although there are plenty of other kids at school who wear headphones 24/7 and don’t give a crap about being disrespectful. With them, he slowly learned how to turn the volume down in his head, thoughts becoming nothing more than whispering background chatter while he worked to find out more on that crime organization.
During his investigations though, he unearthed a lot of other sketchy activity. Before he knew it, he had set up his own base of operations and had turned into some sort of vigilante. He fought crime, not able to look through his intel and do nothing since he couldn’t exactly tell police officer and big brother Shiro why, how, and where he was getting his information from.
Even still, the whole reason he started this up was to find whatever mafia group he ran into again. Every once in a while the trail would pick up again, but it ultimately got put on the back burner as more pressing matters came to light. Gradually, he built up a whole persona with his vigilante work and earned himself his name.
Spider-Man.