[indent][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/5kVMpfi.png[/img][/center][COLOR=yellow][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]A M B E R  M E M O R I A L  P A R K[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][sup][color=darkgray]Night  |  Queens Borough, New York City[/color][/sup]

Cyclops reaction to Spider-Man’s words was difficult to ascertain. Most of his face was hidden behind either the dark blue- nearly black, even- fabric of his mask, or the ruby red visor locked around his eyes; the only window into Scott’s thoughts was his pursed lips and the crossing of his arms over his chest. Silence held in the air like a fog for a time as he mulled over the black clad vigilante’s story. His serious demeanor and tight frown clashed spectacularly with the over-the-top spandex that clasped around his tall, lanky form like a glove.

“No, I [i]don’t[/i] get it.” He finally said, letting his arms fall down to rest on either of his hips, like a cowboy searching for his missing holsters. “You broke into a police station and attacked law enforcement officers. I don’t know where you learned to ‘superhero’ but that’s not how we operate. It was reckless. And stupid. They could’ve [i]killed[/i] you.”

He rubbed his thumb against his forehead in an effort to sooth the pounding headache he was starting to develop. Summers had plenty more to lecture the other vigilante on, but Jean decided to cut into the conversation first.

“What was so important you risked getting murked, anyway?” She called over, her tense voice muddled by her piqued curiosity as she motioned toward the duffle bag.

The boy seemed to move away from Jean whenever she spoke. Those bulging bug eyes of his stayed locked on her and he fell closer to the ground, balancing on his haunches. He rested his hands on his knees. He swallowed.

“Someone… Someone very important to me had something bad happen to them that I couldn’t stop. But now, with this? Maybe I can do something about it.”

Jean kept her eyes locked with the white voids of Spider-Man’s ‘eyes.’ There was an unnerving energy pulsating from them, like an aura of malice sewn into the very fabric of his costume. Grey was far from some withering, backbone-less violet, but there was just...something about this guy that made her wince. It didn’t match his cadence or body language at all- he looked and sounded tired. Vulnerable.

So why did she feel afraid of him?

Cyclops’s headache spiked again and he wasn’t sure why. He tried his best to shake it off and get back to the pressing matter at hand. “Maybe- maybe we can help each other.” Scott hesitantly suggested. Trusting a stranger like this after what he admitted to doing didn’t match the Professor’s modus operandi for the team, but after their enormous screw up in Bayville...Scott was desperate. “Like I said before, helping mutants is sort of what we do.”

The fabric on Spider-Man’s forehead scrunched, along with the filament covering his eyes. He looked right into Scott’s visor, for the first time.

“You guys keep saying -- uh, not that there’s anything [i]wrong[/i] with it, or anything, but, uh, I’m not a… Yknow. Mutant. Oh, uh, sorry, am I not supposed to, yknow, say it? Is there another…? Well, uh, either way, I’m not, uh, [i]that[/i]. Sorry.”

Scott’s mouth slipped open, revealing the surprise that his facial expressions couldn’t. “You’re...not-”

“I [b]know,[/b]” Jean spoke over Summers in a tone like hot coals. She pulled herself up onto the jungle gym and stepped out into the open air, landing with the speed of a feather against the playground mulch. “Just looking at you makes my head feel like it’s gonna...explode, so what’s wrong with you, Pe-”

She caught herself, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip hard enough for an iron-taste to wash over her tongue. “...Spider...Man…”

“[i]Wrong[/i] with me? What’s wrong with u--” Spider-Man bounced up to his feet, chest out and hands wound into tight fists. It was as if he’d grown a full inch, it looked to Jean almost like the surface of his costume was moving. Something twitched on the surface and he shook his head. He looked down and his shoulders dropped, all the air had gone out of him.

“I, uh. It’s been a long night. Did you just…?”

The moment he moved it felt like somebody had set a thousand alarm clocks off in her head. Pulsating, pounding pain shot through her frontal lobe. She stumbled backward a step, an open palm pointed toward the nearest piece of playground equipment for the half a second that Spider-Man looked like he was about to pounce. Jean didn’t answer his unfinished question with anything more than a glare.

“Whoawhoawhoa, breathe. Both of you.” Scott was on his toes, thankfully, and was quick to step between the two, a hand held out toward either. He turned to his teammate first. “Marvel, take a break.” He ordered, before turning his attention fully to the apparent [i]non[/i]-mutant.

“What was…?” Spider-Man rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, the lenses closed with them, quickly fading into a silver goop and disappearing into the rest of the fabric. He took a long, shuddering breath before he opened them again.

“I’m...sorry, for that. She doesn’t have a lot of control over her telepathy. Sometimes...she gets her thoughts and other people’s mixed up. Shit just slips out sometimes.” Summers calmly explained. “She didn’t mean to do it, I swear to God.”

“I… Yeah.” Spider-Man waved it off. He looked down at his hands, turning them over one at a time. “Felt a little Freaky Friday for a sec there.” He stooped down, reaching for his bag.

It wasn’t hard to tell the man in black was in a hurry to get out of there. After everything that went down, Scott couldn’t exactly blame him for that, either. “I meant what I said before. Even if you’re not a...mutant, we’re here to help. I don’t know what all you’re going through but you don’t have to do it alone- I...uh...do you have a pen?”

“Memory’s a steel trap, Eye-guy.” He fastened his bag over his back as Scott gave him the phone number for the mansion.

Watching Spider-Man turn to leave still wasn’t anything like watching a man move. White webbing shot from his wrists and he pulled himself into the air, light as a feather. He twisted in the sky and came back down, landing on one of the branches at the park’s perimeter.

“Hey, since your girlfriend over there already knows, I’m Pete. Thanks for, uh, this, I guess.”
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