“...Eddie? Are...you okay?”

Cider had no idea what was going on with her friend lately. All day long he’d been tense, quiet, even a bit jumpy, and she had no idea what was wrong. Her Spidersense gave no indication that there was any danger, so she just had to wonder, was there something he wasn’t telling her?

"Oh fuck." Her dad taught her that- the 'naughty word'. She didn't often use it but Dream knew well enough that it meant something bad. That it meant something had gone wrong, that they needed to get out of here that instant. Though, it wasn't a required signal; the blaring red lights that flashed throughout the facility was enough indication, not to mention the siren that wailed and the voice that called for backup in the room that she had kicked open with a crowbar. "Oh no- no, no, no!"

They've had their fair share of infiltration missions; times where they've gotten past traps and bypassed security. Neither of the children expected the metal door to be equipped with an alarm system, much less one that would alert every single scientist within the building, May quickly grabbing whatever document sat on the desk before rushing out.

When she got home, she'd have to steal the web shooters. It'd be a very useful piece of equipment, to have webbing that'd help the both of them in the midst of running- or swinging- away. She always took to going on foot, her brother having never learned how to bond and therefore not willing to until they both knew what it'd entail.

And now she's running, her brother constantly shifting between a state of solidity and liquid over her face. The sounds, she noticed. They bothered him, she realised; it was something she observed when Dad was trying to fix an old radio he'd found and both her other parents were in an intense state of pain. She tried helping by reaching up and pulling Dream off her face, cupped hands holding him as the documents were tucked inside a coat pocket, still running as fast as she could.

In this moment, she didn't care about a revealed identity. She needed to get home, and fast, shoving her symbiote brother into a small custom-made pocket before jumping upwards and crawling up the wall that they'd entered from. The ceiling panel was still moved aside, the moonlight guiding her, until a bullet had run directly through to her chest.

The fourth drink didn’t really feel like anything; it wasn’t until the seventh round that his head started pounding and the sounds meshed together like the lights when he swung past. Tonight wasn’t a good night, he’d remind himself. His attention wasn’t anywhere, really; probably the man at the table across from his but nothing more. He couldn’t tell a lot from where he was looking- probably some lost dog searching for a purpose. No matter; he’s preoccupied with half-baked thoughts.

He had to admit, this guy looked like that...that Brock guy. The one Jameson would make some big deal about- how his papers spoke the truth but never made as much as The Bugle. He’d constantly be criticising his word choice, his photos, his everything- but it was something about that man’s honesty that really grabbed Pete’s attention. Whatever- he’ll deal with this later. He’ll deal with it when his drink is empty and his head is clear. For now? He’s admiring the guy’s face.

Rough, rugged- he’s been through something. He’s not sure if that’s a general observation or if it’s from how many times he’s seen that kind of face in the mirror every morning; it gave Pete a feeling he really couldn’t understand but didn’t want to unpack. Not yet, at least. But, God, the way he dressed? Damn, it sent a shiver down the detective’s spine as he finishes his glass. That’s enough for the night, he supposes. As he’s walking away, he notices some foreign speck on his glasses.

It’d be hell to have to leave it there so he stopped, took his glasses off, and fumbled with them as they fell. It didn’t bother him that there was quite possibly another crack- what bothered him now was that he was essentially blind at this point. He kneels down, hands patting the ground in search of the round spectacles. Right by the man’s table, too; he can’t embarrass himself like this!

There was a small shift in the balance of things, he could tell. It wasn’t prominent, his senses only subtly bringing his attention to the small dip in the universes. He was only starting to get used to it, a newfound sensation with its own signs. It started at his forearm and trickled down to his fingertips; that meant something happened. And, sure as hell, what he saw on the ground was definitely not akin to this world. He didn’t need to see colour to know she was out of place; it was her fashion sense. It was familiar, in a way- Pete could recall seeing it when he was in that other universe. When he was in Miles’s universe. 

“Hey, dollface; what brings you here?” He’d only been here to brood, to mull over the most recent of events; he’d never be able to bring up the things he’s seen to anybody but Felicia, so it was nice to sit here on his own, doing nothing but thinking about being Spiderman in general. He wasn’t sure what direction the events of the collider went in terms of his mind and how it settled it but what he did know was that the residual effects probably took place. “Lost, right?” 

He’s excited, there’s no doubt. Pete reaches into his coat and digs out a small plastic cube, small stickers with colours on them. Of course, they’re all in a mess; he hasn’t gotten around to fixing that just yet, being colourblind- achromatopsia, they told him, but he never got around to fully understanding it- but he’ll try his best. He’s even got a side down, which was red though he classified it as ‘the most distinguished grey’ on the cube. His excitement in showing it to Eddie never seemed to flake, and though he seemed hard-boiled on the outside, he felt safe to show this soft part of him here.

Peter doesn’t know where to go. He’s lost, dazed and confused as he stumbles across the city streets. He’d been on patrol when it happened, completely UNSUSPECTING. His senses had gone off, but he hadn’t been quite fast enough. They grabbed him, and he was able to get a few kicks and punches in, but not before they managed to overwhelm him, slamming him against a nearby wall and shoving him to the ground, kicks bruising his body as his suit began to tear and his hands covered his head. The last thing he remembers is a sudden stabbing pain in his arms, and then a numb feeling, before the world went black. 

His escape is a complete blur in his mind. Luckily, his super healing hadn’t abandoned him, and the drug they prepared hadn’t been strong enough, and he wakes before they expect him too. Peter manages to get out, but just BARELY. He’s beaten within an inch of his life, shivering as he stumbles along, a f e a r f u l and dazed look in his eye.

“Like Mr. Johnson said, we’re not releasing some of this stuff until it’s ready.” Aperture Science was in its prime now, something his boss wouldn’t shut up about, but he couldn’t blame him; it was something he could understand too. Being called the next big step forward in science meant a lot to Peter, him adjusting his glasses as he continued on. “But, I can assure you, it’ll advance our understanding in science greatly. Trust me when I say that. When has Aperture not been great?”

That last part, Peter was kept in the dark for most of their...early experiments. He’s been stuck to chemical work, to use of the substances, having engineered the propulsion gel. It hasn’t been officially used in the public, probably for the best, but it definitely could help with advancements in their other works. “We’re all working real hard to make sure everything turns out great. There hasn’t been an incident in... a good while. Can’t remember how long, but definitely long enough to be good.”