Ryder spent the entire day pacing the streets of the city, class was out so he didn't need to worry and his internship was only on Fridays. The adrenaline from his earlier training session hadn't worn off yet, and his mind kept replaying Emma Frost's steely gaze, the way she'd almost dissected him with her telepathy. He had to prove to himself that he wasn't just some kid out of his depth. He had powers now, abilities that could make a difference. He couldn't keep lying low, waiting for the world to catch up to him.
Today, he was going to be a hero.
Ryder had tried to remain inconspicuous, sticking to the shadows and quiet corners of the city. But his eyes were everywhere, scanning for any sign of trouble. He imagined the headlines: Mysterious New Hero Saves the Day. He could feel it, like something big was just waiting to happen. The problem was, hours passed and nothing did.
The city went about its usual business—people rushing to work, cars honking, street vendors calling out to passersby. Ryder perched himself at a coffee shop, watching the street with a growing sense of frustration. He teleported to a few different locations, hoping maybe he'd stumble upon a crime in progress. But no luck. It was as if the universe was mocking him.
"Come on," he muttered under his breath, sipping the now-cold coffee he hadn't touched in hours. "There's got to be something."
Just as the sun began to dip toward the horizon and Ryder was about to give up, he saw it. Across the street, a black van screeched to a halt. Three men in masks leapt out, moving with a grim efficiency that set off alarm bells in Ryder's head. They moved toward a woman walking down the sidewalk, dragging her to the van before she had a chance to scream.
Ryder's heart lurched. This was it. His chance.
Without thinking, he focused on the space between him and the van, the familiar tension in his gut pulling him through space. Bam! He landed awkwardly, stumbling but catching his balance just as one of the men opened the van door and began shoving the woman inside.
"Hey!" Ryder shouted, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
The men turned, clearly surprised, but not for long. One of them pulled out a gun, and Ryder's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't hesitate, not now. In one fluid motion, he darted forward, grabbing the woman by the arm. His plan was simple—teleport her out of there, to safety. He could figure out the rest later.
But as he tried to summon his power, to pull them both away, nothing happened. A cold panic spread through him.
"I can't teleport other people," he realized, the thought slamming into him like a truck. He hadn't practiced. Why hadn't he practiced this?
He cursed under his breath, tugging at the woman again, but before he could react, one of the men brought his gun down hard on Ryder's head. Pain exploded behind his eyes, and he crumpled to the ground, dazed. Blood trickled from the wound, and everything became a blur of sounds and shadows. The world tilted sideways, and Ryder blinked rapidly, trying to shake the stars from his vision.
The men were dragging the woman into the van now, and Ryder felt a surge of desperation. He had to move. He had to do something. But when he tried to teleport again, pain shot through his head, and he barely managed to stay conscious. His body refused to respond.
He could only watch helplessly as they shoved her into the van. Ryder gritted his teeth, forcing his limbs to move, but his strength was fading fast. He was too late. He had failed.
Then, just as the doors of the van slammed shut, something red and blue flashed across Ryder's blurred vision. He blinked, his eyes struggling to focus on the figure now swinging through the air with effortless speed. Spider-Man.
In a blur of webbing and punches, Spider-Man landed on the roof of the van, knocking out one of the masked men with a single well-placed kick. The other two tried to react, but they were no match for the wall-crawler. In seconds, Spider-Man had them disarmed and webbed to the side of the van, their heads slumped in defeat.
Ryder could barely process what was happening as Spider-Man yanked the door open, pulled the woman out, and webbed her to safety on a nearby rooftop.
With the immediate danger gone, Spider-Man swung back to where he lied on the ground, his masked face still communicating concern as he crouched down. "You okay, kid?" he asked, his voice filled with that characteristic lightness Ryder had only ever heard in movies and comics.
He groaned, trying to push himself up, but the pain in his head was relentless. "I—I'll live," he muttered, blinking up at the superhero.
"You should be more careful," Spider-Man said, offering a hand to help Ryder to his feet. "Being a hero isn't easy work."
Ryder accepted the hand, grimacing as he stood, his legs wobbling under him. He couldn't help but feel embarrassed. He'd come in so sure of himself, thinking he could handle this. Now here he was, bloodied and bruised, while Spider-Man had taken care of everything in seconds.
"You make it look so easy," Ryder muttered, running a hand over his aching head.
Spider-Man chuckled. "A lot of practice, trust me. You've got guts, though. Not many people would rush into something like that without a plan."
Ryder managed a weak smile. "Yeah, well... I guess I could use a bit more practice myself." He hesitated, glancing at the hero who had just saved the day like it was no big deal. It was surreal, standing here, talking to Spider-Man like it was just another day. "What's your story, kid?" Spider-Man asked, his voice casual but curious. "You new around here?"
Ryder opened his mouth, his mind scrambling for something that didn't sound insane. "I'm Ryder," he finally said, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing on him. "I'm just... trying to figure things out."
Spider-Man nodded, looking understanding. "Aren't we all?" he said with a grin, though there was a seriousness behind his eyes. "Where'd you learn to teleport like that?"
Ryder hesitated, barely registering that anyone could have seen him do that. He tried to think of how to answer, but in his dazed state, he wasn't quick enough. "Oh I just...can. It just started. I'm definitely still learning you know? I'll get the hang of it Mr. Parker- I mean....uh...fuck."
Spider-Man's body tensed immediately, his easygoing demeanor gone in an instant. He stepped back, his eyes narrowing behind the mask. "What did you just say?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "How do you know that name?"
Panic shot through Ryder's chest. He hadn't meant to say it. He was just tired, dazed, and it slipped out. He backpedaled, raising his hands. "Wait, I—I didn't mean to—"
"Who sent you?" Spider-Man interrupted, stepping closer, his posture threatening now. "How do you know who I am?"
Ryder's mind raced, but before he could explain, instinct took over. He focused on the docks, the one place he knew he could get away to without thinking too hard, and in a flash—Bam!—he was gone.
He landed hard on the cold concrete of the docks, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His head pounded, and his whole body ached from the effort. But he was safe—for now. Ryder cursed himself, slamming his fist into the ground in frustration.
"Stupid," he muttered. "So stupid."
He had gotten too comfortable, too careless. He couldn't afford mistakes like that. Not here. Not in this world. He wasn't supposed to know these identities, even if the Spider-Man he'd just met was clearly older, One slip-up, and it could cost him everything. He couldn't let that happen again.
He rested at the docks for a while until the headache ceased. The cut stopped bleeding so he finally relaxed enough to teleport again, taking a few jumps to reach the dorms this time.
He'd try again another day, for now though, all he wanted to do was sleep.