"Okay. I understand."
Peter pressed the end-call button on his phone and dragged a heavy hand down his face. He walked down the bustling hallway of Midtown High, completely tuning out the noise of slamming lockers and chattering students.
Nick Fury had entirely miscalculated. The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. assumed that with the Kingpin off the board, New York would just experience a standard, low-level gang war. After all, what kind of serious criminal enterprise could establish itself right in the Avengers' backyard? Fury figured the situation was handled, especially with Cindy Moon officially operating in the field as an extra set of eyes.
But Matt Murdock had just shattered that theory. A bulletproof man named Luke Cage had just walked out of Rikers Island, claiming the military was running a underground, highly illegal super-soldier lab right under the city's nose. S.H.I.E.L.D. supposedly knew nothing about it. Nobody with half a brain actually believed that.
Peter needed to pull a double shift. He had to ditch his afternoon classes, swing across the East River, and pay a personal visit to Wilson Fisk. Only the Kingpin could turn himself in on a Monday, get sentenced on a Tuesday, and somehow be living in a luxury, customized cell on Rikers by Wednesday. Fisk knew about the experiments. Peter was sure of it.
But first, he had to take care of a civilian problem.
Peter stopped outside the heavy acoustic doors of the school's music room. A muffled, heavily distorted bassline vibrated through the floorboards, accompanied by the sharp crash of cymbals. He waited until the song ended and the feedback whined to a halt before knocking twice.
The chatter inside stopped. The door swung open.
Mary Jane stood in the doorway, a red electric guitar strapped over her shoulder, her fingers still resting on the fretboard. She looked over Peter's shoulder, assuming the obvious. "Hey. Did you need to see Gwen for something?"
"Actually, no," Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I came to see you."
Someone inside the room accidentally knocked over a microphone stand. The sudden, incredibly awkward silence radiating from the rehearsal room was deafening. Peter ignored it.
"It's about yesterday. The café," Peter continued, keeping his voice low. "I need to talk to you about what happened after I ran out. Do you have a second to talk privately?"
MJ raised an eyebrow, a slight smile touching the corner of her mouth. "Sure. Let's talk privately." She turned back into the room. "Sorry, guys. Take five." She unclipped her guitar strap, leaned the instrument against an amp, and stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind her.
Back in the rehearsal room, Betty Brant and Liz Allan immediately dropped their instruments and stared at Gwen Stacy.
Gwen sat behind her drum kit, her face entirely expressionless. "What?"
Liz leaned over her keyboard. "That guy. Is that the childhood sweetheart you're always talking about? The mysterious Mr. Parker?"
Gwen spun a drumstick between her fingers. "I know exactly what they were doing yesterday. MJ landed that interview with J. Jonah Jameson. Peter has sold photos to the Bugle before, so he went along to take shots for her portfolio. That's it."
Betty crossed her arms. "Except he just said he ran out. What exactly did he go do after he ran out?"
Gwen rolled her eyes. He went to go put on a mask and fight a giant mechanical rhinoceros, she thought. "What do you want me to do?" Gwen retorted, dropping her drumsticks onto the snare. "Press a glass against the door and eavesdrop?"
Betty and Liz just stared at her, completely silent.
Two seconds later, Gwen let out a long sigh, stood up, and pressed her ear flat against the heavy wooden door.
Out in the hallway, Peter wasn't trying to flirt. He was trying to do damage control.
"I circled back after I made sure you were safe," Peter lied smoothly. "I got my camera. And while I was shooting from the fire escape, I actually overheard Spider-Man and the Rhino talking. I heard the whole story."
"I saw the news footage later," MJ noted, leaning against the lockers. "I didn't see you anywhere in the background. But you got photos?"
"I got the story," Peter corrected. "Aleksei---the Rhino---he didn't want to rob that bank. His wife has a degenerative blood disease. Somebody fronted him a massive stack of cash to undergo those modifications. But it wasn't enough to cover the hospital bills."
MJ nodded slowly. It was a tragic, textbook villain origin.
"I know this is a huge ask," Peter continued, shifting his weight. "But instead of just submitting a straight transcript of Jameson complaining about masked men... what if you wrote this instead? Pitch the Rhino story. Give the guy some humanity."
MJ exhaled, blowing a strand of red hair out of her eyes. "Peter. You want me to scrap my guaranteed internship interview piece, and instead submit a sympathetic psychological profile on a supervillain who just destroyed three city blocks?"
Peter didn't backtrack. He just nodded firmly.
It was an enormous risk. Jameson hated villains almost as much as he hated heroes. Submitting a piece like that could instantly tank MJ's chances at the Daily Bugle.
She tilted her head, studying his face. "Why do you care so much about helping the Rhino?"
"Because," Peter swallowed hard. "I thought of a way that might actually help him. And nobody else is going to do it."
MJ stared at him for a long, quiet moment. Then, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket. "Give me your number. Email me the high-res photos tonight. Maybe Jonah will look at the pictures and realize the angle actually sells papers."
Peter let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. A genuine smile broke across his face. "Thank you, Mary Jane. Seriously."
"It's MJ," she said, tapping his contact info into her phone. "All my friends call me MJ. And don't think this gets you off the hook. You still owe me a meal since you bailed before we even ate yesterday."
"Next time is on me. Promise," Peter said. He waved, turning to walk down the hall.
As he turned, his enhanced hearing picked up the faint squeak of a door hinge. He glanced over his shoulder. The music room door was cracked open a fraction of an inch. He could clearly see Gwen's blonde hair peeking through the gap.
Peter let out a long, heavy sigh, shaking his head. High school was exhausting.
Time to go to prison.