The Following THREE Chapters of BNHA: God of Explosions are available for Patrons.
Chapter 12 (Emotions on edge), Chapter 13 (Everything is going according to plan... apparently) and Chapter 14 (U.S.J: The Consequences of a Butterfly's Wingbeat (1/3)) are already available for Patrons.
Patreon: patreon.com/Subaru710772142
***
Landing smoothly, the hero walked toward them. "Look, I know this might seem weird, but I'm Spider-Man," he said, pointing at himself while looking at the third guard—the only one who could still see him.
"She's the thief," Peter continued, gesturing to where the silver-haired woman should have been—only to find an empty wall. "Oh... you've got to be kidding me."
***
Peter exhaled sharply. "Of course. Of course she escaped."
He turned to the guards—two still struggling with the webs covering their faces, while the third stared at him, wide-eyed, clearly debating whether to run or call for backup.
"Huh... let me get those webs off you."
***
After leaving the museum behind, Peter threw himself into a web hammock between two trees in a park and lay there, watching the dark sky slowly shift into shades of orange as the sun began to rise. Fatigue weighed on his muscles, but sleep never truly came. His mind was still trapped in the chaos of the previous day.
Pretty much everything had gone wrong. First, the helicopter exploding and all the consequences that came with it—for him and for others. Then, just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, Gwen appeared in front of him while he was still awake. And as if that wasn't enough, in an attempt to clear his mind, Peter had walked through the city streets only to stumble upon a woman breaking into the museum.
For a moment, he considered just letting it go. But no. He was still Spider-Man. The guy who tried to do the right thing, even when the universe seemed dead set against him.
So, he put a paper bag over his head and went into the museum... only for the robbery to happen anyway, and the woman to escape... Yeah. Without a doubt, yesterday had been one of his worst days as Spider-Man.
"Haa..." Peter let out a long, tired sigh before getting up. His muscles protested with every movement as he grabbed his backpack and started walking through the still-quiet city streets.
***
About an hour later, he finally arrived home. The walk had been sluggish, his sleepless hours finally taking their toll. 'Honestly, I'd be passed out if it weren't for my powers', Peter thought, climbing the steps to the entrance.
His body still wasn't fully recovered, but his face no longer bore the signs of what had happened on the helicopter, thanks to his accelerated healing. And that would be enough to keep Aunt May from suspecting anything.
As soon as he unlocked the door and stepped inside, a familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.
"Peter?" Aunt May's voice called from the kitchen.
He shut the door, took a deep breath, and forced a casual tone. "Good morning, Aunt May."
He just had to act normal. Easy, right? If he ignored the ache in his shoulders, the exhaustion burning in his muscles, and the mysterious thief now living rent-free in the back of his mind.
Walking into the kitchen, Peter barely had time to process anything before being pulled into a tight hug. He blinked, surprised, feeling the warmth and familiarity of the gesture—but also the silent worry that seemed to hang in the air. "Uh... May? Is everything okay?"
"Of course, you made it home safely after all." She pulled back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in her hands like she used to when he was a kid. "Did everything go well? Are you okay?"
Peter hesitated for a second. Why was she so worried? He didn't remember leaving the house in a way that would raise suspicion. But instead of feeding any doubts, he flashed the most convincing smile he could manage.
"Yeah? I managed to fix my friend's computer, look." He pulled a few dollar bills from his pocket and held them out to her. "To help with the bills."
"Oh, Peter." May's eyes softened as she gently moved her hands from his face, taking the one that held the money. "This is yours. Use it for yourself."
"May, I insist—" He tried, but she shook her head, already anticipating his argument.
"You already do enough, sweetheart." She closed his fingers around the bills with maternal affection. "Get something for yourself. Maybe some new clothes? Yours are so worn out."
"Hey, that hurts my heart. I call it a 'classic look.'"
May raised an eyebrow. "Call it whatever you want, but if your shirts get any more holes, I'm going to start sewing crochet patches on them."
Peter made a face. "Okay, now that was just cruel."
She chuckled, giving him a light tap on the shoulder before turning back to the stove. "Sit down and eat before it gets cold."
He obeyed, pulling out a chair as she finished setting up breakfast. The kitchen quickly filled with the smell of toast and fried eggs.
"Eat everything." May placed a full plate in front of him, along with a steaming mug. "I'm going to get changed for work."
"Okay, May." Peter grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite. He already expected his beloved aunt to refuse his help—she almost always did.
And, like most times, he would simply ignore her refusal and cover whatever bills he could behind her back. At least until she found out, put her hands on her hips, and gave him a long talk about how he didn't need to do that.
***
[Daily Bugle]
In the editor-in-chief's office, the large window overlooking the city was shut, casting the room into darkness. Only the bluish glow of the monitor served as a light source, throwing harsh shadows over the stacks of documents scattered across the desk.
J. Jonah Jameson sat in his chair, hands clasped atop the desk, his sharp gaze locked onto the young woman standing before him.
She held herself upright, but her fingers fidgeted nervously behind her back. The silence in the room made the moment feel even more suffocating for her.
"Watson, you've been working here for what? Two months?" Jameson finally broke the silence.
"Three months and ten days, sir." She corrected immediately.
"That's what I said!" He grumbled, rolling his eyes before turning his attention back to the monitor beside him. "Your investigative work so far is solid, but irrelevant."
"But, sir—"
"People don't care whether the tobacco industry follows regulations or not. Everyone already knows that crap kills." Jameson interrupted bluntly, pulling open a drawer and retrieving a cigar.
The woman simply stared at him with a flat expression as he lit the cigar and exhaled a puff of smoke toward the ceiling. "I think I understand, sir."
"Good." Jameson narrowed his eyes at her under furrowed brows. "With that settled, I'm giving you a new assignment. If you deliver it the way I want, the promotion is yours."
Her eyes lit up for a moment. "You can count on me, sir. I won't let you down."
"I hope not." Jameson tossed the cigar into the ashtray, then opened a new folder on his desk, revealing a photo of a young man with a name underneath.
{Peter Parker}
The woman frowned, studying the picture, unsure of what her boss was getting at.
"I want concrete proof." Jameson began explaining his demand. "I want you to find out, beyond any doubt, whether this kid is Spider-Man or not."
'He thinks this guy is Spider-Man?!' She shifted her gaze from the photo to her boss. "And if he is?"
"Then we put an end to this fraud once and for all." Jameson crossed his arms. "The city deserves to know the truth."
The woman took a deep breath. This wouldn't be an easy task. If Parker was just a lucky photographer, it wouldn't take long to figure that out. But if there was something more… then she was about to expose one of New York's biggest secrets.
"Consider it done." She grabbed the folder and turned to leave.
Before she could reach the door, Jameson's voice stopped her.
"Don't disappoint me, Watson."
She paused for a second. "I won't, sir." The woman tightened her grip on the folder and walked out of the office with determined steps.
***
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.