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jenniboo311 · 3 years

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Hot Ones: Spider-Man Tries Not to Spill His Secrets While Eating Hot Wings

by jenniboo311

Part 1 of the Hot Ones: Avengers in the Hot Seat series, Part 1 of the Social Butterfly Spidey series

Teen | 17416 Words | Chapter 1/3

The video begins focused on a man in his early thirties looking into the camera, hair buzzed short and wearing a white hoodie under a black bomber jacket. He is sitting at a small table with ten bottles of hot sauce lined up down the center from hot to hottest, a platter of ten chicken wings set in front of him, with the whole set backdropped in black. The man smiles and begins his introduction.

"Hi everyone, from First We Feast this is Sean Evans and you're watching Hot Ones: the show with hot questions and even hotter wings."

The camera angle changes but maintains the closeup.

"You may recognize our next guest from his daring acrobatics, swinging high above the streets of Queens as he patrols vigilantly to keep its citizens safe. From rescuing cats stuck in trees to taking down drug rings and even occasionally joining the Avengers in taking on aliens to save the world, there is no task too simple or too daunting for this hero. Please welcome to the show, the amazing Spider-Man."

The camera changes to focus on the guest sitting across from him, a young man wearing dark blue jeans, white sneakers, and a thin dark grey hoodie that easily displays the shape of his fit body, the sleeves casually pulled a third of the way up to reveal sinewy forearms corded with veins and a few faint scars. Most notably he is wearing a Spider-Man mask to preserve his identity.

The large white eyes narrow a fraction in delight and the area around the mouth twitches, as if there is a smiling mouth beneath the fabric.

"Wow, what an intro," he enthuses, "Thank you so much for having me! I'd say it's a pleasure to be here but I'm actually a fan of your show and so I have a good idea of what's in store for me."

His voice is light and friendly and sounds relatively young.

They both laugh at Spider-Man's joke and Sean looks delighted and flattered.

"Thank you so much, I am a fan of yours as well, Spider-Man! You sound a bit apprehensive though. I've gotta ask, how are you with hot food?"

"Uhhhh-"

He reaches back to scratch the back of his neck nervously and the eyes on his mask widen comically as he cocks his head to the side and continues.

"I'm gonna be real honest with you here, Sean."

Sean laughs again, "Okay lay it on me Spidey - can I call you Spidey?"

"Yeah of course. I actually used to love hot food. A relative of mine was pretty terrible at cooking when I was growing up so we got takeout a lot and we would often get this crazy hot curry for fun from a spot down the road and man, I think we had cast iron stomachs because it didn't bother us a bit and most people can't even get through half."

Sean throws his hands up in confusion and gestures at him, "So this should be a breeze for you! Why do you sound so worried?!"

"I said 'used to'! Since I became enhanced and became Spider-Man my senses have been heightened and are what I've described as 'dialed to eleven'. So where I used to be able to basically eat battery acid, I fear now it's going to kick my ass. I actually don't know for sure since I've avoided it since the incident but I suspect it will be bad."

Sean grins devilishly and not at all sorry, "Uh oh! That's not looking good for you!"

Spider-Man shifts in his chair to get more comfortable and one eye widens slightly as if he has raised an eyebrow, "No it's not! Give me a mob of dangerous armed criminals any day, but a plate of chicken wings can get the best of me!"

Sean rubs his hands together like a cliche evil villain, "And now we know your weakness!"

Spider-Man recoils in jest and slaps a hand to his covered mouth.

"Seriously though," Sean continues, "Aren't you worried that potential enemies will know now that you're weakened by things that will overwhelm your heightened senses?"

"I mean nobody is invulnerable, not even people who are enhanced. I'm still human, just...extra. If you blast loud noise or bright lights at anyone it's going to be unpleasant. But I've got my suit to help with most of that. My mask helps dampen sounds and dim lights, things like that."

"Well what if you lose the mask?"

Spider-Man shrugs, "If they're close enough to manage to relieve me of my mask without a fight I've got bigger problems."

They both laugh and Sean nods and concedes the point.

"Okay Spidey, let's get this party started! Good luck!"

Spider-Man reaches up to carefully fold the mask up over his mouth to reveal a chiseled jaw, light stubble, and a gentle, friendly grin.

"It would be a bit difficult to eat wings with a mask over my mouth."

Sean looks intrigued at seeing even this much of his face and a bit surprised, "My God, that jawline could cut glass!"

Spider-Man gives a surprised laugh that reveals even, white teeth, and a faint flush creeps up his neck. He settles on an embarrassed smirk and brings his hand up to drag down his jaw, "Thanks, I think?"

"Wow, did I really just get Spider-Man to blush?"

Spider-Man shrugs awkwardly, "I'm not use to getting compliments on my face since I've always got my mask on, usually people comment on my ass."

"I mean, it's a great ass!" Sean quips teasingly.

They both laugh and Sean is obviously joking and trying to rile him up but it works and Spider-Man flushes darker and shakes his head in embarrassed resignation.

"It's the spandex! Not much left to the imagination unfortunately."

"Or fortunately, depending on who you ask!"

Spider-Man shakes his head again and they both finally take a bite of the first wing. After a couple chews Spider-Man freezes and then clenches his jaw and inhales deeply to fortify himself.

"Alright there Spidey?" Sean is quietly amused.

After a moment he quickly chews the rest of the bite and downs it in a painful sounding gulp, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. He tries to speak but his voice cracks and he has to clear it and try again, "I think I'm in trouble."

"Already?!" The host exclaims in disbelief, "It's only the first one!"

Spider-Man's jaw clenches and his large white eyes narrow at him playfully.

"I am painfully aware of that, Sean."

Sean laughs at Spider-Man's deadpan delivery and gives him a minute while he finishes the wing and tosses it in the trash hidden behind the table before dabbing his mouth politely with a napkin.

"Speaking of spandex," Sean begins, "I've gotta say it's extremely strange to see you sitting here without the red and blue, you look like a totally normal dude! I'll be honest, I was expecting you to show up in the suit. I wasn't expecting this normal dude in a mask to stroll in!"

Spider-Man laughs, "That's the thing isn't it? I am a totally normal guy outside of the walking on walls thing. I've been told I'm a little boring to be honest."

Sean shakes his head and scoffs, "I'm not sure I believe that."

Spider-Man shrugs a shoulder, "I guess the Spider-Man side of me is so exciting that a little boring isn't a bad thing. Everyone needs a bit of downtime. Nobody can stay switched on all the time, even Spider-Man!"

"No, I guess not," Sean concedes.

"And I figured if I was going to suffer through the agony of 'the last dab' I should at least be comfortable instead of sweating a puddle in my spandex. I dare say I'll sweat more today than even some of my more memorable fights."

"You're so sure you'll get to the final wing and 'the last dab'! I love the confidence," he crows and Spider-Man answers with a cocky smirk and cheeky finger guns.

"And is this something you typically like to wear," he continues, "Your civilian clothes, so to speak?"

"I mean...yes and no? I guess it's what I would wear if people knew I was Spider-Man? I usually wear thicker hoodies and baggy shirts to hide my body. I'd love to be able to wear clothes that actually properly fit me all the time. I usually only wear these when I'm at the Avengers compound."

Sean's jaw drops, "So you're telling me that you're ripped and nobody even knows?"

Spider-Man laughs, "Yep! I tend to act a little differently as a civilian to separate the two for safety, not as saucy or outgoing, and that definitely includes hiding how strong I am."

"I don't think I'd have the willpower to not show off," Sean admits. "So if your identity is eventually revealed, will people who know you be surprised?"

Spider-Man clears his throat a couple times, clearly uncomfortable with the spice but trying not to be too obvious.

"When I'm revealed, and I've always assumed it will get out eventually so it's more of a when rather than an if, I think people are definitely going to be surprised. I don't think anyone who knows my civilian self would ever guess I'm Spider-Man. Which I guess is a big part of how I've managed to keep it secret these last few years."

Spider-Man begins to visibly relax as the interview progresses and he slouches back into his chair, resting his right ankle over his left knee. His left hand comes to rest on his shoe, his fingers idly tapping.

"But does that offend you though?" Sean continues, "I feel like if that were me and I was like, 'I'm Spider-Man!', and my friends were all like, 'There's no way this weird wimp is Spider-Man', I'd be pretty offended. I'd be like, 'Not even a small part of you thinks I could be Spider-Man?!'"

Spider-Man laughs, "I mean yeah, there's a small vain part of me that bristles at having to act 'lesser' than what I am. I'm a pretty lean guy so if I wear a baggy shirt I just look kinda scrawny. I've been mocked for being 'weak', I've been pushed around, roughed up. And I can't even fight back because I don't want to hurt anyone and it wouldn't be a fair fight, and because it would give away the game so to speak. So that part of me is offended I guess, and wishes I could just show people what I'm made of. You know? Show them I can be a funny smartass who can hold his own and that I'm not as shy and meek as I might seem. But the sensible side of myself, which is thankfully a lot more prominent than the vain part, is relieved that it's that much more unbelievable because my friends and family are safer that way."

"Except now people will know that you act weak and shy, won't that give you away?"

Spider-Man pauses to think and scratch thoughtfully at his jaw, "No I don't think so. I just act more like normal people do. A ton of people are shy to some degree and most people will avoid conflict so I don't think that's really giving things away. That's just describing most of the population and if they can figure out who I am just from that I'll be impressed."

They both move on to the next wing, Spider-Man giving a slight cough after the first swallow.

"Hoooo, that's got a kick!", he wheezes and takes another bite.

Sean is impressed, "Wow, and you're still going to clean the wing. Mad respect, Spidey!"

Spider-Man finishes eating and tosses the bone away and dabs his mouth with a napkin, "I detest wasting food."

Sean raises his eyebrows curiously, "Is that from some kind of personal experience or just on general principal?"

Spider-Man ponders how much to reveal, purses his lips, and hesitantly admits, "I...grew up in a limited income household. It never got so bad that I truly went without, but we were sometimes limited enough that I wasn't always exactly full either. My family did their absolute best to provide for me and I'm incredibly thankful for that and I try to never take things for granted like food or a roof over my head. And that unfortunately translates to cleaning a chicken wing even when my tongue feels like I've licked a cheese grater."

Sean nods along sympathetically to Spider-Man's answer until the end where he laughs and says, "Surely it's not that bad already?"

Spider-Man answers by hanging out his tongue, which is an angry red color.

Sean winces, "Oh God! That looks painful! You are totally in trouble! Are you okay to continue?"

Spider-Man sticks his tongue back in and takes a few deep breaths with his mouth open to try to cool it with the air. After a moment Spider-Man answers him in a humourous deadpan, "You may not know this about me, Sean, but part of being Spider-Man involves having zero self preservation."

This causes Sean to laugh before he continues with the interview.

"Growing up on movies and comics where the hero with the secret identity miraculously transforms into his alter ego by taking off his glasses and sporting a cheesy spit-curl, I never much considered how silly that really was. Now, being privileged to live in a time and place that honest to God real superheroes exist I've gotta wonder how challenging it actually is to separate the two identities in real life. Do you worry that acquaintances of your civilian self will watch this interview and recognize your voice? Or even that they'll run into Spider-Man in person some day and recognize your voice and figure it out?"

Spider-Man shrugs, "Back when I first started, sure, that was a possibility. I made my own gear by myself in those days and didn't have access to the real fancy tech. I made my web formula and my web shooters and a crappy version of my suit but that's about it. But after I met Tony Stark and we started working together on my gear I haven't had to be worried about that so much. He installed a voice modulator in my mask. It's not drastically different than my normal voice, but it's just different enough that if you knew my civilian self you wouldn't hear Spider-Man and think, 'Hey I know that guy!' And as for this video, since I can't wear my mask over my mouth for the modulator I have a piece that is clipped over my mic right now that's modulating for me."

Sean perks up in interest, "So the voice I'm hearing right now in studio is your real voice?"

Spider-Man grins cheekily and jests, "Yes! Aren't you lucky?!"

Sean claps a dramatic but genuine hand to his chest, "I am! I feel so privileged!"

Spider-Man's cheeky grin softens into a flattered smile and his eyes narrow in delight, "I wasn't too worried because I knew that I didn't know anybody that works here on your set so nobody will recognize my real voice. And everybody watching at home will just hear the Spidey-voice." Spider-Man's grin sharpens, "And hey, if you guys end up recognizing me somehow anyway, you've all signed NDAs."

Sean snaps his fingers in feigned disappointment, "Oh man! So if I happen to meet you while you're in your civvies and I recognize your voice I can't acknowledge you?"

"I mean, I'd probably make eye contact and smirk at you when no one is looking because I'm a little shit. But otherwise I'd pretend not to know you."

They both share a laugh.

Spider-Man coughs a couple times and sniffles as his nose has started to run with the spice.

"Hanging in there, dude?"

Spider-Man doesn't answer right away but takes a couple deep breaths before answering with a slightly strangled, "'M fine."

Sean smirks and they dig in to their third wing.

"You've mentioned Tony Stark, how did you two meet? Did you approach him and be like, 'Hey I'm Spider-Man!"

Spider-Man snorts and coughs into his napkin from the spice as he's cleaning his mouth. He sniffs some more and wipes his running nose, "No, not at all. We met a couple years ago now, but I didn't approach him. I had no intention of telling anyone who I was and that included Tony Stark, Iron Man or not."

Spider-Man pauses for a moment to hang his head backwards in a fit of desperation and grabs the top of his head in a tortured manner.

"God that's hot. Why am I doing this?"

Sean laughs good naturedly and replies, "To be honest, Spidey, I ask myself that question everyday."

Spider-Man chuckles and visibly flustered says, "What was I taking about? Oh right, meeting Tony. Yes. I came home one day and he was sitting on my couch talking to my family member like it was no big deal."

"What seriously?!"

"Yep! So I start internally panicking like, 'What does he know?' I can only think of one reason Iron Man is in my living room and it's probably to do with my alter ego. And sure enough he starts rhyming off this totally bogus competition that I had supposedly applied to Stark industries for and that I had supposedly won and I knew then that he knew. The look he shot me that screamed, 'Play along or else,' really cinched it."

Sean's jaw dropped, "Oh god what did you do?"

"I played along of course. My family member didn't know anything about Spider-Man - in fact nobody else at all knew at that point in time - and thankfully Tony had assumed as much so we kept it up until my family member was satisfied and we stepped out to speak alone to 'hash out the details'."

Sean was visibly intrigued, "What did he want?"

"He was trying to recruit me for that whole Avengers conflict that people dubbed the 'civil war'. He needed help and had seen some YouTube videos floating around of me, and Tony Stark being Tony Stark managed to figure out who I was just from that."

"Holy shit!"

"I know!"

Sean's eyebrows creased in concern, "Are you worried someone else could find you that way?"

Spider-Man grins in mirth, "Not unless they're Tony Stark. I think only he can manage something like that with such flimsy information."

They both laugh and Sean agrees that that is probably true.

"So judging from the few clips that surfaced in the news, you fought with them in Germany so you took him up on it I guess?"

"Yeah, of course I did. He needed the help and I mean you don't just say no to Iron Man for no reason."

"No I would guess not! And how did all of that go?"

"I mean I'm sure you heard the basic jist of the outcome in the media. Other than that, I stole Cap's shield! Bucky and Sam are still a little salty that I kicked their asses but everything was worked out later so no hard feelings. We're all friends now and back together again."

Sean stutters, "Wait-wait! You stole captain America's shield?!"

Spider-Man grins proudly, "I did! But then he dropped an airport terminal on me so I'd say we're about even."

Sean goes wide eyed at the nonchalant quip of an event that would kill any normal person, "Dude what even is your life?"

He repeats Sean's words back to him from earlier in a dry tone and with a wry quirk to his lips, "To be honest, Sean, I ask myself that everyday."

They take a moment to laugh together and Spider-Man turns his face away from the camera to pull his mask a little higher to blow his nose. He readjusts his mask again before turning back to Sean.

"Oh God," Spider-Man moans, obviously suffering.

"Almost halfway there Spidey, you're doing great," Sean coaches.

"Am I? I don't feel great."

They eat their fourth wing and Spider-Man whines as he chews and shakes his head like he can't believe he's doing this.

Sean smirks.

"So obviously you've kept in touch with Tony Stark and you've met the other Avengers. What is that relationship like? Have you thought about the possibility of one day becoming one? Is that something you would want?"

Spider-Man thoughtfully nods, "Yeah we're pretty close. I've never told anyone this but not too long after Germany Tony actually invited me to become an Avenger."

"Oh my God! So you're actually an Avenger now?! How did nobody know this?"

Spider-Man coughs and clears his throat, "No, I turned him down."

Sean stares at him dumbfounded, "Did you just say you turned down Tony Stark when he asked you to join the Avengers?"

Spider-Man laughs and tries to smother his smirk but fails, "Yes and he never lets me hear the end of it. I don't think many people tell him no."

"So what was your reasoning? I think most people in your shoes would kill for that opportunity."

"Yeah I think I surprised the hell out of Tony. Actually made his mouth hang open. I like to remember it when he's being particularly irritating."

They snicker and there's a clearing of a throat off screen and Spider-Man looks past the camera in its direction and delivers a shit eating grin. After a moment he becomes serious again and turns back toward the host.

"It's not that I wasn't honored, or even that I didn't want to become an Avenger, because I did and I still do, but unfortunately there was more to consider than just wanting it. Joining the Avengers would involve signing the accords, and signing the accords would require me to unmask to the general public. The biggest reason that I keep myself masked is for protection. Not for myself, because I can handle it and I willingly signed up for all this nonsense and sometimes it would just be easier if I didn't have a secret identity, but I do it for the people around me who wouldn't be able to protect themselves and who didn't ask for any of this. Being in Spider-Man's orbit is incredibly dangerous."

Sean quietly nods, respectful of the sudden serious turn of the conversation.

Spider-Man continues, "It's been determined by the media and law enforcement that I am a young man, likely between the ages of 16 and 25. If that were true then hypothetically it would be logical that I would likely be a student of some kind. And if I were hypothetically a student that would mean an entire school full of students and teachers would be vulnerable at all times just because I attend. I have an awful lot of enemies and every one of them would cheerfully do whatever they needed to do to exploit a weakness to see me dead, and attacking my hypothetical classmates to get to me would be a big one. And that's not to even mention my family, of course."

Sean looks horrified, like he wouldn't have considered that reason, and it brings a weight and seriousness to the interview that hadn't been felt until now.

"Hypothetically," Spider-Man reiterates.

"Right," Sean agrees dubiously, though it's obvious that he is admitting to being a student without actually admitting it.

"And you know, the accords only account for the big world ending stuff, and I'm all about helping the little guy, you know? I have been since the very beginning. And signing the accords right now would prevent me from continuing on how I am now. I would be obligated to stay out of any conflict without consulting the council and who has time for that for a petty theft or an assault? I'd get myself thrown on the RAFT pretty quick because there's no way I could witness a rape and not stop it."

"Wow, yeah, and crime would soar I bet once criminals heard you're off the streets. You've really reduced the crime rate over the last few years. Criminals would have a field day if they knew you couldn't interfere."

"You bet they would. But they're currently working on a clause to address that, so hopefully by the time I need it it won't be a problem."

"So you're still hoping to become an Avenger in future? The offer is still on the table?"

"It's logical to assume that I would hypothetically sign the accords after I hypothetically graduate or when my identity gets outed to the public, which ever comes first. The offer has strictly never been taken off the table, exactly."

Sean snickers at Spider-Man's unwillingness to come right out and confirm without the silly hypotheticals.

"But you know," he continues after a moment, "The loop hole is that the accords don't say anything about training together. I spend some evenings and most weekends at the compound training together and learning to be a team. Legally they can't call on me when they assemble, but if I'm in the area and get wind and join in or am already engaged when they join in, then there's nothing preventing that. And we work seamlessly together because of that training and familiarity. So legally I'm not considered an avenger but I guess you could call me an honorary one until it's made official?"

Spider-Man shifts in his chair in discomfort and plucks at his hoodie. He gives in and takes a tiny sip of ice water and clears his throat.

Sean has no mercy and continues the interview without pause, "Avengers training on evenings and weekends, patrolling as Spider-Man, 'hypothetically' studying, making time for family and friends, you sound like a busy guy! When do you sleep?"

Spider-Man grins and sniffles with his runny nose, "Sleep is for the weak."

Sean snorts and they dig in to their fifth wing.

Spider-Man makes a noise of enjoyment, "Wow this one is delicious."

Sean looks pleased, "Thank you! This one is actually a Hot Ones branded sauce, glad you like it. We'll send you home with one in your gift bag."

"That's so nice, thank you. And I mean this in the nicest way, I won't be eating it."

Spider-Man begins coughing as the delayed spice kicks in and he gasps in desperation as Sean laughs in amusement.

"I'll give it to my family member though, the one who loves spice. They'll love it. God you're evil, who the hell made this sauce?! Was it you, Sean? I don't think we can be friends."

Sean laughs again and claps a hand to his wounded heart, "I'm devastated to hear that, but yes I was one of a few who had input on the sauce."

Spider-Man looks up at the ceiling in desperation and then pounds a fist against his thigh and then sits up straight again after a moment, though still gasping and groaning.

"You know, you're a funny guy but based on the footage I've seen of you on YouTube and the news, and heard from people who have encountered you in public, I was expecting someone with a lot more wisecracks, who is more sarcastic and a bit goofy. You're humourous but there's a seriousness to you that I didn't expect."

"Yeah I mean I can be a smart ass for sure, but a lot of that is put on and exaggerated for the persona. I find the bad jokes and the nonchalance often unsettles opponents, throws them off. They're used to people being afraid and running away and then I bounce in making terrible puns and they don't know how to handle me. And it brings a certain levity to my day that would otherwise just smother me. I mean I've seen it all, it's some heavy shit. Weapons, drugs, theft, torture, murder, rape, enslavement. I don't act flippant to make light of the situation, I do it because if I don't I'll get buried in the shit that is the dregs of society that I witness everyday. You wanted to interview me to actually get to know me a bit and I don't feel like it would be truly genuine if I snarked my way through the whole thing. The truth is, I'm just not like that twenty-four seven. So you're getting genuine Spider-Man right now."

"Well I appreciate that, Spides, and I can honestly say that I've enjoyed getting to know genuine Spider-Man and I think everyone watching will too."

Spider-Man smiles widely, sniffs again, and snarks, "Yeah maybe not everyone, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Speaking of, you've had your fair share of bad press for sure. People seem to be really divided on whether they love you or hate you. It must be hard to put so much into saving people only to be called a menace. How do you feel about all that?"

Spider-Man pauses to think for a moment while trying to discretely pick chicken out of his front teeth with his thumb nail.

"I mean...I guess I'm used to it now."

He discretely sucks on his front teeth to dislodge the chicken and pauses to turn away and blow his nose again. He tugs at his collar which brings attention to the sweat beginning to gather in the hollow of his exposed collarbone. He continues in a strained voice, "When I first started it was definitely harder to take. I was just trying to help because I have power and abilities that most people don't have and I felt a responsibility to use that for good. A late relative very dear to me used to tell me 'with great power comes great responsibility'. I didn't take it seriously at the time and without going too deep into that I will say that I later learned the hard way what that motto really means and is largely the reason I actually became Spider-Man. But you know there are always going to be critical people, people who don't like you no matter what you do just for the sake of disliking you, and people who don't like you because they don't understand. It was hard not to take it personally at first but over time I developed a thicker skin and just kind of laugh at it now. I had a rocky start with the police at first but these days they trust me and we have a good working relationship now. The stuff I get blamed for by the public is sometimes ludicrous but you know that's a part of becoming a public figure. I think anyone who becomes famous or dare I say, a celebrity, has to deal with that. Maybe not to the same degree I do, but definitely in similar ways. But the lives I have truly touched and the people I have helped drown all that out. To save someone's child from a burning building and then have them tearfully embrace me and thank me over and over for saving their child's life, feel them shaking in relief and squeezing me as hard as they possibly can, that beats any negativity any day. I don't do it for the gratitude, nor do I need it, but it's fortifying and energizing. That's food for the soul right there. That's why I keep doing what I do. It keeps me going even when it gets really difficult to do so."

Spider-Man starts to sound a bit choked up near the end of his passionate speech and Sean tactfully pauses for a moment to allow Spider-Man to compose himself.

"Wow I can't imagine. Nor can I imagine what it's like to run into a burning building when everyone is running out."

"It's not for everyone! But you know I'm not the only one, we have to give mad props to first responders everywhere because they're running into danger too, not just me. Policemen, firemen, paramedics. They're heros, all of them. And they're not even enhanced. I have the biggest respect for them."

They pause to eat their sixth wing and Spider-Man gets into a coughing fit and struggles to swallow the whole thing but eventually does before wiping his mouth and nose and tugging at his collar again.

"God it's warm in here. Is it warm in here?" He chokes out.

Sean snickers but is otherwise largely unaffected.

"I'm so mad you're not even phased. I'm losing some serious street cred here. I look like a wimp!" Spider-Man gestures angrily at Sean and Sean snickers.

Spider-Man leans his head forward and props it up on his hand, his elbow resting on the the table, sniffing and moaning in distress.

"To be fair I don't have enhanced senses and I've done this a lot, so there's that."

"Yeah I don't think people are going to care too much about that when they're calling me Spider-wimp anyway."

Sean let's out a surprised snort and grins as he watches Spider-Man suffer.

Spider-Man suddenly cracks and reaches for the glass of ice water to his right, "To hell with it, does this shit help?" He gulps a couple mouthfuls and then holds some in his mouth while he looks at Sean in distress.

"I mean psychologically maybe? Mostly no."

Spider-Man leans over to spit the water into the trash hidden to the right of the table and he dabs at his burning red mouth with his napkin.

Spider-Man groans and seems to deliberate for a moment. "Okay this is coming off"

Spider-Man reaches for his hoodie and yanks it over his head, careful not to upset the mask and reveals his body mic with a small modulator device overtop clipped to a red t-shirt that had previously been concealed by the sweater. The shirt is not skin tight but fits his form well and does nothing to hide his trim figure. The sweat at his throat is more noticeable and glistens in the bright studio lights.

Sean smirks, "Stripping off Spidey? Should we get some music and mood lighting?"

"Listen. If this gets much hotter everyone's getting an eyeful. I'll be the first guest to finish their wings fully naked at this rate."

Sean laughs hard and shakes his head in disbelief, "We'd have to blur, but we'd go viral I think. You do you, Spidey. Do what you need to do."

Spider-Man wheezes out a painful laugh.

Sean changes the topic and gestures at Spider-Man's forearms, "I can't help but notice a couple scars on your exposed arms, do you get injured often? What types of injuries are typical for you?"

"Yeah of course. Obviously I try not to get hit and I'm pretty slick and can usually avoid most incoming attacks, but sometimes it's unavoidable. Both just because I can't move away in time or because there's a civilian behind me and if I move I know they'll get hit."

Sean looks shocked, "Are you saying you've willingly taken bullets for people?"

"Yeah totally, as well as knives and other random projectiles. Desk chairs, mailboxes, chunks of drywall, you name it and they have probably thrown it at me."

Sean interjects with a laugh, "So basically everything but the kitchen sink!"

Spider-Man quirks his lips, "Well actually..."

"You've literally been hit with a kitchen sink?!" Sean asks incredulously.

"I've been hit with almost everything at this point. Usually on purpose though they probably just thought I was too slow to dodge. Most times I can dodge, so often if I get hit it's by choice." Spider-Man turns to address the nearest camera suddenly and points at it as if scolding those watching, "Which is why it's extremely important to flee the area if you can if there is an ongoing altercation. The less potential casualties around the more effective I can be, and the more effective the police can be as well."

He turns back to the host and takes a moment to shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"And do you have a higher pain tolerance then, being enhanced?"

Spider-Man shakes his head emphatically, "No I wouldn't say that. I may be stronger than most people but that doesn't affect my pain tolerance. It hurts to get wailed in the face or shot in the arm as much as if it happened to you or anybody else. I just push past that and do it anyway because the alternative might be someone losing their life. I do have enhanced healing, however, so I heal a lot faster than a regular Joe would. That means a bullet that would cause a fatal bleed out in someone normal might be able to heal fast enough on me to not prove fatal. Still hurts the same though. But yeah, I get a lot of sprained muscles, bruises, minor cuts like a split lip or a superficial graze on my body that usually looks worse than it is. I haven't kept count but I've been stabbed -and this doesn't count superficially - maybe three or four times so I guess that averages to maybe once a year. And I've been shot - again, not counting superficial gunshot wounds - roughly twice that on average. Bone breaks are also fairly common but it depends on what I'm doing. It's not terribly common fighting petty crime because they're usually not skilled enough in hand to hand to give me a broken bone but if I'm training with the Avengers, that's where I get weekly broken bones. They heal pretty fast though, usually a couple days.

"Wow they're not kidding around."

"No definitely not. At this level you play for keeps, you know? There's no pulling punches. Going easy on each other in training would just end up in someone getting killed once they come up against the real deal and find themselves unprepared. I've got Hawkeye actually shooting arrows at me, Black Widow trying to crush me with her thighs, Captain America with his damn shield. Breaks my hand everytime I'm forced to catch it with my bare hands instead of my webs. I hate that thing. It's kind of a running joke at this point. I think he secretly enjoys it because of how we first met and I stole it from him and made him look bad."

Sean raises disbelieving eyebrows, "I'm not sure I believe that. He seems so wholesome in the press."

"Hah! He's a nice guy sure, but he can be a little shit when he wants to. Everyone calls me the little shit but I think it takes one to know one! He's going to punish me for that one later, when he sees this."

"Have you ever had any close calls or truly bad injuries? Any moments where you thought you weren't going to make it?"

"Absolutely." He pauses to take another gulp of water and swallows before coughing and turning to blow his nose.

"Ohhh, God, what is my life? Why is this my life?!"

Sean laughs and waits patiently for Spider-Man to get ahold of himself and answer the question.

"Uhhhhh bad injuries. Hmm. I got skewered once with rusty rebar right through my lower abdomen. It thankfully missed vital organs but I lost a ton of blood and nearly bled out before I could finish the conflict."

Sean's jaw drops, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah that was messy!"

Spider-Man promptly yanks up the bottom half of his t-shirt to reveal his lower torso. It is muscled and smoothly toned as expected, marred by a puckered, nasty looking scar on the left side.

Sean leans in a little and squints to get a better look. After a beat he whistles and shakes his head.

He releases his shirt so that it falls back in place, "And I can't go to a hospital so Tony allows me to get treated at the compound with his personal medical team when it's bad enough that I can't just let it heal on my own."

Sean nods in understanding, "So like getting shot."

"Naw, I usually dig the bullet out myself and staple it closed. I usually have enough time to quickly angle so it doesn't hit anything important. So I do occasionally get shot but it's usually not likely to be fatal."

Sean stares in incredulity, "You dig it out... Staple...That's possibly the most badass thing I've ever heard anyone say."

Spider-Man laughs in surprise and it turns into a cough. He dabs at the sweat on his throat, bringing attention to his now damp shirt collar, and sips some more water.

Spider-Man continues, "Nah, it's usually for something life threatening, or that I will need surgery for. And that really sucks because it's super hard to knock me out or give me painkillers because my body metabolizes them too quickly to be truly effective. Usually I have to suffer through it conscious. One time they needed Thor to come in and belt me in the head to knock me out long enough to operate because it would have been too agonizing to sit through awake."

Sean's eyebrows crawl further up his forehead, "I stand corrected. That might be the most badass thing I've ever heard anyone say."

They share a laugh, Spider-Man's bordering on hysterical from discomfort with the spice.

"What about a situation where you thought you were done for? Had any of those?"

"Yes, though no one knows about it."

Sean sits a bit straighter in his chair with peaked interest, "Nobody?"

Spider-Man shakes his head while gasping and sipping more water.

"Alright, story time," Spider-Man allows, "And though there's a lot more to the story I'd like to tell I can't because it would give too much away and put my identity in jeopardy, so you're going to get the CliffsNotes version. But anyway, you might remember a couple years back, I had a few run ins with a guy who called himself the Vulture."

He pauses to sip and Sean nods in recognition.

"So anyway let's just say shit escalated in a real scary way and it all came to a head one night. He ended up causing a distraction which resulted in the building collapsing on top of me. Now don't get me wrong, I'm a strong guy, made of stern stuff, but this was a freaking building okay?"

Sean's mouth drops open and he looks stunned.

"Something else you should also know," he continues, "Is that I didn't have my suit. Most everything I do as Spider-Man is all me, not the suit - besides the webs, of course - so I wasn't defenseless by any means, but the suit provides a little protection, has built in vital stats monitoring to alert Tony if I'm seriously injured or in distress so he can provide assistance, and has built in comms so I can easily communicate with the team in case of trouble. Earlier in the week Tony and I had argued and he took back the suit. We disagreed about some things, it's not important for you to know, but basically all I had was my old suit which was basically glorified jammies. Funny tidbit: Tony often calls me 'Underoos', a nickname that he came up with because of my first suit, the one I was wearing when he met me. It was just a hoodie and sweat pants and a basic mask and goggles and my web shooters."

He paused to turn away and blow his nose and gasp some more and sip some water.

"So I ended up trapped under this structure with no comms, no backup, and nobody knew where I was. I could feel myself slowly being crushed to death and let me tell you, nothing can prepare you for that feeling. I strained every muscle in my body trying to delay the inevitable and I could feel that I only had moments left before the end. And of course my mind went to the people I care about most, my family and how devastated they would be at yet another loss to our family, to my best friend, my 'guy in the chair' who had recently found out about my alter ego and was so supportive and my biggest fan. And then my mind went to Tony who had been a recent big player in my life. He made me an awesome suit and let me explore some of the ideas I had for new Spidey tech while completely footing the bill, as well as generally being supportive and trying to give me advice where he could. And even though we had parted badly I still appreciated him and cared about him and I regretted our last interaction. And that reminded me of one of the last things he said to me as he took the suit back. He said, 'if you're nothing without the suit you don't deserve to have it.' And as the debris pressed the last of the air from my lungs I thought 'he's right you know. C'mon Spider-Man.' and I thought of all the people that would die once Vulture hijacked Tony's plane and the tech got into the wrong hands. I didn't even have enough air left to scream my defiance but defy I did. I stood up from that place somehow, debris raining down around me like an avalanche, and staggered my way after him."

Sean was riveted. "Holy shit! And then what happened?"

"I crashed the plane somewhere safe with the two of us on it, had an epic smackdown, tied him up with a pretty bow, and somehow staggered home to pass out. And hypothetically if I were a student, I hypothetically showed up bright and early Monday morning for school like it was no big deal."

Sean shakes his head in disbelief, "You're unbelievable!"

Spider-Man goes into a coughing fit and when he's finished he's flushed and sweating.

"Thanks! I'm afraid to look over at Tony," he admits nervously, "That's the first time he's heard that story, I don't expect him to take it well. How does he look?"

Sean glances awkwardly off camera and quickly turns back to Spidey.

"Err..." He hedges, "He looks incredibly stony faced. I can see why he's called Iron Man. I think you've got a discussion ahead of you."

The camera cuts to show Tony standing with Happy Hogan behind the main cameras next to a few crew members. He's staring hard past the camera at what is presumably Spider-Man, eyes pinched with guilt. After a moment his eyes shut in devastation and he hangs his head before the camera returns to Spider-Man.

Spider-Man deflates, "Yes I expect so. But that was early in our relationship, we're cool now. Not to spill the tea or anything, but after that incident he apologized and admitted he was wrong. And he almost never does either of those things. It was actually after that incident that he invited me to join the Avengers. Said he was impressed with my integrity and capability."

"I feel like this interview is going so much more differently than I expected," Sean admits, slightly baffled.

Spider-Man cocks his head to the side, "In a good way I hope?"

Sean straightens and raises his right hand as if to swear on scouts honor, "Definitely good!"

Spider-Man claps his hands once and rubs them together, "That's great because it will probably be my last interview ever after Tony murders me at the conclusion of this one."

Sean laughs and Spider-Man turns to look deadpan into the nearest camera and says as his big white eyes narrow, "He thinks I'm joking."

They eat their seventh wing and Spider-Man looks confused for a moment.

Sean smirks knowingly, "Wait for it."

Spider-Man cocks his head curiously and after a moment his mouth drops open in shock and the lenses on his mask bulge comically as he exclaims, "Jesus fuck!"

Sean laughs hysterically and clutches his chest at the sudden and uncharacteristic profanity.

Spider-Man claws at his throat and wails, "Oh my God that is so much hotter. Why is this so fucking hot? Why would you do this to me? You're an asshole, Sean."

The crew behind the cameras can't help but join in the laughter and Spider-Man grips the table white knuckled until the metal groans and dents inwards slightly and he releases it.

Spider-Man jolts and apologizes profusely, "Sorry! So sorry! I'll pay for that!"

Sean waves him off as he gushes, "Are you kidding? We'll keep it as a badge of honor. Dented by Spider-Man himself after calling me an asshole!"

Spider-Man laughs desperately and shakes his head in disbelief and gasps before chugging the rest of his water and pouring another glass.

The host considers him thoughtfully, "Actually I think that's the first time I've ever heard you curse. You're rather well known for your non-lethal approach to conflict and lack of potty mouth. Has sweet, innocent, and wholesome Spoods been a lie all this time?"

Spider-Man doesn't answer right away and instead sticks his tongue into the glass of water in an attempt to assauge the heat. It's an angry red and Sean winces sympathetically. He tries to answer, falters, and goes back to the water. After a moment he wipes his mouth and chin and his running nose. After a few gasping breaths he tries to answer but is flustered and no longer as smooth talking as he has been up until now.

"Uh. What? Oh right. Cursing. Yes. Uh. No. I try not to curse," Spider-Man snaps out shortly in between gasps and gulps of water.

"Why is that? Some of the other Avengers have been known to be potty mouths, I don't think they'd be offended," Sean wheedles.

"No, of course they're not offended. I curse in private with them sometimes. Usually during intense training or if that archer asshole gets a prank over on me."

"Hawkeye?" Sean supplies helpfully.

"Yeah, that one," Spider-Man continues to pretend to not know his name in order to subtly insult him.

Sean catches on quickly and snickers at the slight.

Spider-Man manages to get ahold of himself and supplies, "I try not to curse in public because I have a lot of younger fans. I try to be a good role model where I can because whether I want them to or not they look up to me and follow by example. I'm a scientist by nature, not a fighter, so I try to lead by example and show people that sometimes getting physical can't be helped but that using your words is often more effective and should be the first course of action."

He pauses to moan and put his head in his hands before continuing, his head still in his hands.

"Pen is mightier than the sword and all that. Cursing usually isn't helpful in those situations and actually just escalates things. Most people don't realize that a lot of incidents I respond to I talk down the assailant without even getting physical. But those aren't interesting or sensational enough and don't make it on the news as much as a standoff or car chase would. If everyone used calm, respectful dialogue to resolve conflicts Spider-Man probably wouldn't need to exist."

Sean nods thoughtfully and concedes, "There's much more to you than meets the eye, Spider-Man."

They share an understanding glance for a moment and Spider-Man suddenly interjects, breaking the serious pall, "Having said that, sometimes you need to curse. And I still think you're a fucking asshole."

The whole studio erupted in laughter once again at his serious matter of fact delivery and complete change of character from the joking, friendly guy who first came in, and allowed Spider-Man a few moments to collect himself while they calmed down.

They move on to the next wing but Spider-Man pauses and fearfully looks at the bottle in the center of the table to see what one it is.

Spider-Man eyes the hot sauce bottle for the next wing as he reaches for it and despairs, "Oh god, this is 'da bomb'? This one is always the worst! I watch all the Hot Ones episodes and this one is always the worst. I'm going to die! Here lies Spider-Man. RIP. He saved a lot of cats from trees and had a poppin ass."

The studio erupts in laughter as a bit of the smartass persona bleeds through in his distress.

Sean has already finished his wing and calmly waits for Spider-Man to eat his.

Spider-Man fortifies himself and finally takes a bite and wails in displeasure, "Christ this show is so much more entertaining when it's not me!"

Sean slaps his leg in mirth.

"Yeah I'm not going to lie Spidey, this is going to be good internet."

"UGHHH, I'm so happy for you," he half yells, though his sarcastic tone clearly indicates otherwise.

Spider-Man suddenly focuses on something off camera and his eye lenses narrow into a glare.

"He's mocking me! I'll remember that next time there's a power surge and you're free falling a hundred feet in the air towards the ground!"

There's louder male laughter off screen and Sean turns to look.

Spider-Man points at whoever is laughing, "I'll do anything for you to come over here and clean this wing right now. C'mon hot shot."

Tony Stark waltzes into view and stands next to Spider-Man's chair and smirks down at him.

"Anything?"

"Anything within my power," Spider-Man clarifies.

"The quinjet is due for maintenance next month."

Spider-Man yelps, "That's like a six hour job at least!"

"Yup!" Stark chirped, popping the p.

Spider-Man sighs in resignation and holds up the wing, "As if you werent going to rope me into that anyway. Deal."

Tony smirks as he takes the wing and eats the rest of it without hesitation, noticeably not being bothered by Spider-Man passing him the wing despite his hatred of being handed things and of having to eat from a wing already half eaten by Spider-Man.

Spider-Man watches in anticipation and Tony tosses the clean bone in the trash and nods as he grabs a napkin and cleans his mouth and fingers.

"Not bad," Stark muses nonchalantly.

"Not bad?" Spider-Man repeats, his voice growing in volume, "Not bad?! That's it? Oh my God, I'm going to have a melt down. This doesn't bother you at all? What the hell are you made of?!"

Tony smirks at him and turns to look straight into the camera.

"Iron."

Spider-Man's mouth drops open as Sean is set off into laughter once more.

"Did. Did you just."

Spider-Man and Tony look at each other again.

"Yes I did."

"Get the hell out of here," Spider-Man snaps.

This causes Tony to crack and he starts laughing and grasping his chest as he throws his head back and staggers off camera. Spider-Man's eyes follow his progress, lenses glaring the whole way.

Spider-Man finally turns back to Sean and shakes his head, "The audacity."

This sets off another round of snorts before Sean manages to compose himself to ask his next question.

"Alright Spidey, we have a recurring segment in our show called explain that 'gram where we look at our guest's Instagram, do a deep dive to pull a few of the more interesting looking photos, and ask for a little more context. Does that sound okay?"

"Fine!" He coughs and gasps and finally grabs the milk to drink.

Sean brings out his laptop and shows him a picture of Spider-Man in super hero pose holding captain America's shield.

Spider-Man snorts loudly mid sip and some of his milk splatters. He grabs a napkin to clean up while he tries to compose himself.

"That was actually in Germany, remember when I said I stole Cap's shield? That was it!"

"This was it?! How is there a picture of this?"

"Tony has body cams in some of the tech he makes, for example the Spider-Man suit and the Iron Man suit. He was trying to get under Cap's skin one day and everyone knows he's still a bit salty about it so he pulled up the footage, took a screen grab and made me post it," says Spider-Man as he smirks.

Sean snickers, "How did he react?"

"He roped me into a spar, threw his shield at me, and broke my middle finger. Ironically it needed a splint for a day while it healed so everytime I saw him I flipped him the bird with it. Everyone got a good kick out of that."

Sean shakes his head with a grin, "You guys are insane and hardcore."

Spider-Man laughs in agreement and wipes his runny nose and turns his head to cough politely.

"What about this one?"

Sean shows him a picture of Spider-Man posing with a little girl with a shaved head in a hospital bed grinning at the camera.

Spider-Man momentarily perks up from his struggle with the spice to say, "Yes! That's my friend, Jenny! Nobody really knows this about me but I try to visit children's hospitals when I have the time. It cheers them up. Makes them so happy to see their hero, Spidey. It costs me so very little to brighten their day so I try to do it as often as I can. I met Jenny one day and she asked if I would be her friend and I answered that of course I would! So she wanted us to take a picture to post on my Instagram, which I did with her mom's consent."

"That's so selfless of you. What do the parents and nurses say when they meet you?"

"Oh, I don't think any of them actually think I'm really him. They usually comment on what a dedicated cosplayer I am and how close my costume looks to the real thing."

They both laugh at that.

He continues, "I get asked a lot if I made it myself and I just nod and go along with it. Which isn't a lie, I had a lot of input in the current iteration of the Spider suit. Although Jenny's mom realized I was the real deal when it ended up on my official Instagram! And I guess if they all see this video they'll know it was me all along."

"You didn't tell them it was really you?"

"No because then the focus stays on the children as long as they think I'm a cheesy cosplayer just trying to do a good deed. Once they know it's actually me and word gets out then I get swarmed by fans and it becomes about me. That's not what I wanted. I wanted the kids to feel important and special and loved. A small moment of happiness in what for some of them has been a lifetime struggle."

"Well now I feel terrible, I've outed your secret and you can't get away with it anymore. Apologies, my dude," Sean says regretfully.

"It's alright, you didn't know! I'll figure something out. I'll make quick sneak attacks to visit or something!" Spider-Man reassures him.

They both laugh and Spider-Man turns to lift his mask a little and blow his nose.

"For real though these hospitals can always use volunteers, and everyone sure appreciate it. So if you've got some time, please drop by your nearest kids hospital and offer up a little time to put a smile on a kids face. It's the best thing you'll do all day trust me."

"Okay, second last one, Spoods. Are you still with me?"

Spider-Man drags a hand down his face in exhaustion and plucks at his sweaty t-shirt which is now clinging to him a little more than it had been, his throat glistening with perspiration and Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the milk he's desperately been holding in his mouth.

He raises the arm closest to the camera to reveal a damp underarm, "Look at this shit. I don't even break this much of a sweat fighting the tin man over here." He nods in Tony's general direction off camera and gets a snort from him in return.

"And you've got me cussing now. Ugh, I need a second."

Spider-Man stands up and starts slowly pacing behind the table, hands on his hips.

"It's alright, take a lap, Spoods! Whatever you need!" Sean reassures him good naturedly.

Spider-Man stops, turns around and braces his hands against the wall and drops his head, his back to the camera. He gives a heavy sigh, then after a beat with a small snicker, says, "Oh would you look at the time!" and starts crawling up the wall to escape.

Sean's mouth drops open in delighted shock and he throws his arms up in the air. He turns to look at his crew off camera in astonishment and gives them a giant grin.

Spider-Man disappears from sight but Sean's gaze follows him to the ceiling above the table. A faint thwip sound is heard before Spider-Man slowly lowers himself back to the table upside down in his signature pose, his t-shirt falling up his chest a bit to give everyone an eyeful. He gracefully flips forward into his seat and releases the web.

He tugs his shirt back into place and says, "I had forgotten that's why I don't usually do that in civvies. Oh well, I did warn you I'd be naked by the end."

Sean laughs and looks exhilarated at seeing wall crawling with his own eyes.

"That's amazing! You really don't need the suit for that!"

"Nope! That's one hundred percent Spidey, baby!"

He waggles his fingers at Sean as if to demonstrate and announces proudly, "I'm sticky!"

"That's what she said?" Sean fires back uncertainly and Spidey tosses his head back and cracks up at the dirty joke.

They eat their ninth wing and Spider-Man moans in agony. He gulps down some milk and then dabs his nose and mouth. After a moment he grabs a new clean napkin and turns away from the camera to pull the mask away from his face enough to get a tissue in to wipe at his watering eyes.

Spider-Man turns back around and scolds, "You monster, you've made Spider-Man cry!"

"Oh no, I'm going to get so many hate comments for this! Please don't cry, Spoods!" Sean pleads.

Spider-Man chuckles and it turns into coughing.

Sean suddenly gushes, "Looking at all the footage of Spider-Man in action on the news and online, and of course meeting you in person... You're just so cool!"

Spider-Man barks out a loud laugh at that, "That's actually the funniest thing I've heard all week. Anyone who knows my civilian self would have lots to say about me, but 'cool' would not be in the top five. In fact in wouldn't even be in the top ten, if at all. That's actually hilarious, thanks for that."

"Well they don't know what they're talking about because you are indeed cool and I'm sure most of New York would agree with me!"

"Wow that's so nice, thank you! I love you guys!" Spider-Man gushes back.

"We love you too, Spides! Have there been any super embarrassing moments as Spider-Man you'd care to share with us? What's your most embarrassing moment?"

Spider-Man pants loudly and grabs a couple ice cubes out of his glass to press to his sweating neck, the water dripping down his throat to soak into the collar of his t-shirt. He opens his mouth to answer, falters, and then shakes his head as he thinks about it some more.

"God, I don't know if I want to share my most embarrassing. It was so bad and I went to great lengths to keep the team from finding out," he gasps out in a strained voice.

His neck and cheeks start to flush deeper as he thinks about it and Sean grins widely, "Oh this ought to be good. Don't leave us hanging on that one Spidey! Don't worry, we'll be gentle!"

"Oh man! I dunno!" Spider-Man moans in indecision and agony and takes another gulp of milk.

"C'mon!"

"Oh no, peer pressure!"

He looks into the camera and points his finger as if to coach those watching, "Don't give in to peer pressure kids. Think for yourself and if you really don't want to do something, say no and stick with it. If a situation is getting too overwhelming, leave, get yourself out of there."

Sean looks suitably chastised and looks like he feels bad, "You're absolutely right-"

"Having said that-" he interrupts Sean's apology, "I'm gonna tell you anyway. Close your ears kids, this story isn't for you."

Sean's eyes widen like he can't believe his luck.

Before Spider-Man can even begin his story he breaks off in a distracted tangent, "Be honest with me here, Sean, what kind of aftermath damage am I looking at here? Because I feel like I've swallowed napalm and I've got a spar with Black Widow in less than forty minutes before a team up with Deadpool this evening. Am I going to survive this or should I start composing my epitaph now?"

Sean snickers at him as he gives a low scream and chugs more milk.

"I'll never lie to you, Spoods. I'll be honest with you. I think you might be a dead man."

"Yes I thought that might be the case," he confesses in a defeated manner.

"What possessed you to schedule Black Widow after an interview with hot wings?" Sean asks incredulously.

Spider-Man shrugs, "It wasn't so much that I scheduled her after Hot Ones. It was more that I had committed to the interview and then she told me we were going to fight afterwards. And you don't say no to Black Widow, Sean. If she says you're fighting then you're fighting."

"Does your gym have a bathroom? I'd stick close to the bathroom if I were you," Sean confesses hesitantly.

Spider-Man stares at him for a few moments and his eye lenses narrow dangerously, "Are you serious?"

"Deadly serious."

"Fuck!"

"I'm sorry, Spoods, I wouldn't lie to you!"

Spider-Man stares at him for another moment, his lips pressed in a firm line. "Sean, I swear to God, if I shit my pants while Black Widow has me in a headlock I'm coming back for you."

Sean starts laughing hysterically and manages to choke out, "No no no no! You signed the waver! You agreed to this!"

"They'll never find the body," he continues menacingly as if Sean never spoke.

Sean laughs helplessly and presses his hands together as if he were praying.

Spider-Man clears his throat several times and drinks the rest of his milk. A crew member comes forward to bring him more milk. "Thank you so much."

He moans in despair and shifts around in his chair before wiping a few drops of sweat from his throat impatiently.

"Okay right, the story. Ugh. So there is a very small group of people these days who know my identity. The Avengers, one enemy, one family member, my best friend, and a close female friend. That's it."

He pauses to clear his throat, wheeze, and take a drink.

"So it's a night I'm planning to stay over at the compound, to get some early training in for the next morning with the team, but it's also an evening I've set aside for my friends. My best friend is out of town so it's just me and my-" He clears his throat, "-lady friend. She is one of two friends who knows I'm Spider-Man so I decide hey, might as well show her some cool stuff. So we go back to the compound to show her the lab where I work on my gear. I should probably mention it is also Tony's private lab. We share it. We work on all the Avengers gear in there together, me and him and sometimes Bruce. Anyway. I had just finished showing her a cool prototype for a new web shooter I came up with and I mean we're friends and all, but things started to get a little friendlier if you can pick up what I'm throwing down here."

Sean's jaw drops, not expecting this kind of story, "Oh my God!"

"Yeah. So I'm suitably uhhh... Distracted. And while I'm distracted she picks up one of the prototypes and next thing I know she's got me by the wrists. Stuck in my own goddamn webs."

Sean laughs loudly and encourages him to continue, which he does so after blowing his nose and sipping the milk.

"And these things you can't get out of unless you get cut out or you let them dissolve two hours later. So I trusted this girl, and put my guard down -that was my first mistake - and she caught me literally with my pants down, stuck in my own goddamn spiderwebs."

He plucks at his t-shirt in discomfort again and fans at his face with his free hand.

"At this point I'm getting a bit concerned, but she's not stopping so I give her the benefit of the doubt. Fast forward..." Spider-Man hedges, being purposely vague to preserve a little modesty. Spider-Man looks at the camera and his eye lens gives a sly wink, shakes his head and gives an embarrassed laugh before he continues.

"Fast forward a while and she collects herself. Then-"

He needs a moment to shake his head with a rueful smile. "THEN, she says, 'later', and waltzes out the door. As she turned, I caught her smirk. She smirked! She thought this was hilarious!"

Spider-Man is half yelling as the studio laughs and he's shaking his hands in angry emphasis. "So now I'm glued to the fucking lab completely in the buff for who knows how much longer until these things dissolve, and I honestly have no idea if anybody is going to come by the lab at any point and end up catching me. And any of them can, there's prototypes for every Avenger in there so there's a chance they might wander in."

He takes a drink and blows his nose.

"So after an indeterminate amount of time, I am released from my prison. It is bittersweet. Don't get me wrong. It's been a great night-" He pauses to laugh embarrassingly and his lips give a wry quirk, "-but that was some of the scariest shit I've lived through. While I was trapped I eventually started hearing footsteps up and down the hall and I was absolutely terrified someone was about to come in. And it isn't until I'm halfway back to my room when I remember Tony has cameras, like, everywhere. So back I go. Hacked in and deleted it, thankfully."

As the laughter simmers down, Tony from off camera yells angrily, "I can't believe you desecrated my lab!"

Spider-Man laughs and puts his hands up in surrender, "I'm sorry Tony! I'm so sorry! It won't happen again!"

He has to suddenly duck an incoming half empty water bottle aimed for his head that Tony had obviously thrown.

"Don't think I'll let this stand, Underoos. I know what we're watching for Avengers movie night tomorrow."

"Oh God, no! I deleted it!" Spider-Man exclaims in horror.

"I have backups."

"I deleted those too."

"We'll see."

Spider-Man bites his bottom lip, half grinning and half apprehensive.

Sean grins and asks, "Did you get them all?"

"Yes," he confirms confidently. After a moment he whispers uncertainly, "I think so."

"So," Sean says gleefully after a moment, "There's potentially a Spider-Man sex tape floating around somewhere?"

Spider-Man flushes a dark red and laughs in embarrassment, "I mean I'm pretty sure I deleted everything. But potentially, I guess?"

"I'll let you know," Tony quips and they laugh again.

Spider-Man puts his face in his hands and groans in embarrassment, "I can't believe I confessed that. I can just see the headlines once people see this video."

"And your lady friend?" Sean follows up.

"Oh we're fine. I snarked at her the next day and she smirked a lot and honestly I should have expected as much from her. Don't worry, we're still friends!"

"Just friends?" Sean needles.

"... Close friends." Spider-Man hedges after a moment.

"How's she going to react to you telling us all this?"

"Oh, she'll be endlessly amused and probably take a screenshot of me in distress to print out and leave for me to find in various places."

"She's terrifying," Tony mutters, but the camera picks it up.

"Oh yeah?" Sean perks up, looking for more information.

"She's... Something else. She'll probably rule the world some day. And that's all I'll say about that topic for safety," Spider-Man concludes that line of questioning.

"Fair enough. Moving on to the final battle! You've come so far! I'm proud of you, Spidey!"

Sean picks up the last bottle of hot sauce and starts shaking it and Spider-Man bites his lip in apprehension. "Oh no, I know what happens next. I don't like this."

Sean laughs and continues as he opens the bottle and dabs a little on his wing, "Now Spidey, this is called 'the last dab', as you know. For the viewers at home, it's called 'the last dab' because it's tradition around here to put a little extra on the last wing, but you don't have to, we won't judge if you can't handle it."

Spider-Man doesn't hesitate, "Yes you will. You'll totally judge. Hit me!" and holds out his hand for the bottle.

Sean laughs as Spider-Man dabs extra on his wing and agrees, "I mean yeah, we totally would."

"I'm not a spider wimp, I'm not!" Spider-Man jokes in a petulant tone.

Spider-Man takes a deep breath and tries to gather his courage. "God, I'd rather get yeeted into the Hudson again. At least I'd stop sweating."

Sean snorts as Spider-Man devours the wing quickly before he can overthink it. Spider-Man swallows and immediately shouts in distress and starts gulping milk.

Sean laughs and asks his final question quickly, "It's been so great having you on here today, getting to know you a little better. Obviously, all we have really seen of you these past years are the small clips of you swinging or fighting, so it's been great getting to talk to you. I'm sure I'm not the only one who is surprised in that you're much different than we expected you to be. Honestly you're a pretty normal guy, just like the rest of us, except sticky."

Spider-Man doesn't pause in guzzling the milk but gives him a thumbs up in agreement.

Sean continues, "I know there was a lot we didn't cover, that we can't cover for various reasons, but we appreciate you giving us a bit of a peek at the real guy behind the mask. My final question for you is: can you tell us a few fun facts about yourself that we don't already know?"

"Uhhh," Spider-Man choked through the burning pain, "Uhhh... God it's like I swallowed fire. Literal fire. I can't even think."

Sean snickers and blinks rapidly, trying to hide his reaction to the hottest sauce as he finally shows that he is affected.

Spider-Man sniffles and wipes his nose and continues, gasping, "I invented the formula for the synthetic webs by myself, and the gadgets I use to shoot them, long before I met Tony. I used to dumpster dive, that's where I got most of my components."

He drinks more milk and coughs before blowing his nose. "Oh my god it hurts. Food shouldn't hurt. Oh this is awful. Do you hate me, Sean? Is that it? Is this your way of telling me you hate me? I keep New York safe and this is the thanks I get?"

Sean laughs and tries to deny it, "No! No way!"

Spider-Man accepts a fresh glass of milk and chokes out a thank you before continuing, "I, uhhh, I dunno, I enjoy photography."

"As in you like looking at photography or you like taking photos?" Sean asks.

"Well both, but yeah taking photos. I've posted a couple on my social media but I'll start posting more if anyone is interested in seeing that kind of stuff."

"Yeah totally, I bet you get some unique shots being able to get places other people can't," Sean enthuses.

Spider-Man nods, drinking again.

"Uhhh, I'm arachnophobic," he admits, fishing to come up with more anecdotes.

"Wait, what?! Dude, you're SPIDER man! How can you be arachnophobic?!" Sean questions incredulously.

"Ugh, well I can't say too much since it involves Spider-Man's origin story and I don't want people trying to recreate it or something and end up getting hurt, but it was an accident and involved spiders and agonizing pain and almost dying so I think I'm a little entitled to a bit of arachnophobia, don't you?"

Sean is wide eyed as he agrees.

"And on that note, congratulations on making it through. It's been a struggle for you, considering your enhanced senses, but you pulled through like a champ. It should be no surprise to anyone, since you don't know how to quit! It's been an honor meeting you, and hopefully you'll consider coming back someday when you've unmasked and we can have another go."

"Uhhhh, I'll think about it," he hedges.

Sean laughs and points to the cameras, "This camera, this camera, or this camera, let the people know what you've got going on in your life."

"Right, well, I support a number of local charities and they're always incredibly in need, so please consider donating some money. And if you don't have that, maybe donate some of your time. You can find a list of these charities in the description below, and at the end of this video. I'll also be attending a fundraiser for orphaned children at the end of the month. We're going to hang out, take some pictures, have a bit of fun. You can also find information on that in the description, and I hope you'll consider dropping by. Come say hi and tell me how much of a wimp I'm not."

Sean laughs, "Thanks for joining us! See you next time on First We Feast, this is Sean Evans."

The camera cuts to show sometime shortly after the interview, Spider-Man, Tony, and Sean standing around chatting and laughing as the crew walks around cleaning the set. Tony is telling a story involving Spider-Man getting distracted during a mission and body slamming the side of a brick building while web slinging. Sean erupts in laughter and Spider-Man playfully shoves Tony before fishing his ringing phone out of his pocket. He answers it and they curiously watch him.

"Ohhh, hey Nat!" He nervously greets the caller. He pauses while the caller talks and he responds, "Of course we're still on. I'm sorry, I totally lost track of time. I'll-" He gets cut off by the caller and he listens nervously, tugging on his collar. "Errr... No. No of course not. Wait... No. Yes of course. I-" he cuts off what he was about to say and looks at his phone. He looks up at Sean and Tony and his eye lenses widen comically.

"Oh man, she's pissed. I'm late."

Tony smirks, "Nice knowing ya."

Tony and Spider-Man then pose for a group picture with the entire crew, Spider-Man making his signature hand pose. The video goes black as Spider-Man and Sean shake hands and the audio lingers with Spider-Man saying, "Ten out of ten, would not do again," and Sean and Tony laughing.

__________________

Comments:

AceSummer well he's not wrong. that's good internet.

Mrs Spiderman I think I'm in love

Spidey fan aaaaaaaaabs

Sophi Wow he's not at all like I imagined

Bebeetch Spidey on that seventh wing LOL

Benticat RIP Black Widow gonna thigh choke him out

Vistale I would pay good money to watch a Spider-Man bondage sex tape

TweetNinja Hmm it never really occurred to me why he didn't sign the accords

Flameswell Oh man I can't wait for him to finally sign the accords and unmask

PinkJan "hypothetically" lol

dodododododo Guys I just had a crazy idea. I think he might be a student

Nervous Nelly Whatever gave you that idea? Lol

I am a banana High school or college?

dodododododo Probably college. A high schooler can't be that kick-ass can they?

My name Jeff I wonder what he looks like under that mask

MemeLord Probably deformed

waaaaat no I doubt it, he says he hides to protect his friends and family. I can understand that.

Marry me Spides I'd say he's pretty handsome actually, look at that jawww

Kuro2cool So he can do a few tricks, that doesn't mean he should be doing this shit. That's what we pay professionals good money for. He's not a cop.

Benny Yeah and at least they're trained

Roseawayee I dunno, Spidey seems to know what he's doing

Kuro2cool until he's not and gets someone killed

Roseawayee Sometimes the police just isn't enough

EpicChikk omg spiderman is my fave

FunHi Spides once stopped a mugger from taking my purse! He was super nice and sat with me for at least 20 minutes until I calmed down and stopped crying and then helped me get a cab to the hospital. He even paid for it! I love you Spides!

LawnMoon dat ass tho

Margethe Awww blushy spiderman is the sweetest

VanderKit He's so normal, I wasn't expecting that

metawank spiderman sucks

IronManIsMyDaddy Yay iron man made an appearance!

IAmIronStan Anyone else think it's super sweet that Tony came with Spidey for his interview? #friendgoals

The not so incredible Hulk Get Tony on hot ones next!!

IronManIsMyDaddy Yessssss

IAmIronStan I mean he didn't even flinch at da bomb though, when he finished Spidey's wing. It would probably just be a normal interview but with a snack

Spidermenace241 I still think he's a menace

MMM whatcha say J Jonah is that you

JrWaves4 I'm so jealous Sean got to meet him in person

crazycatlady18 I wanna hear his real voice!

MajorFraser There's a couple videos floating around from when he first started and it captured him speaking a little. It was a few years ago so he sounds a lot younger but he doesn't sound too different from the modulator in my opinion

crazycatlady18 I wonder if Sean will ever come across civilian Spidey in the wild? Can't you just imagine Spidey making eye contact and smirking and Sean just getting this look of realization on his face that he's looking at the real deal before the crushing defeat sets in when he realizes he can do nothing about it

GoobleRay Those wings hit him harder than rhino lol

Juztinny Hahaha

TaraSweetie Shit did you see Tony's face after Spides told that story about him getting crushed by Vulture? He looked so guilty

CrownBillion Who'd have thought Spidey was into the kinky shit

Softy4Spidey think his lady friend is a girlfriend or just a fuck buddy?

CrownBillion doesn't matter, he'll never tell us

DJTwinkle I've always wondered if he ever used his webs for bondage

LolaShun Lol wtf dude

wHeN wIlL yOu LeArN Woo Spidey! Get some!

CrownBillion Yeah, was not expecting that story. I dunno, always thought he was too wholesome for that hahaha

Softy4Spidey for what, sex? he's human too, just like us. i'm sure he has needs

CrownBillion I guess I always pictured him fighting crime 24/7 lol

ChicMoto Wow I had no idea he did so much volunteer work, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He's too good for this world and you can fight me on that

ChampionFeline he's a precious little bean

ForShark "sleep is for the weak"

onesbuma00 mood!

henrytech I wonder what he meant when he said things got scary real with the Vulture

MUSTCONSTRUCTADDITIONALPYLONS I dunno but must have been bad to scare this guy. He keeps cracking jokes even when staring down rocket launchers

JuzzFizz He also mentioned that one enemy knew his real identity and that he couldn't say more about his conflict with Vulture because it might compromise his identity. I wonder if it got scary because Vulture found out who he was

henrytech Shit that's terrifying

JuzzFizz And he wouldn't be able to say how he found out because if it was his next door neighbor or something people could just look up where Toomes used to live

henrytech Plus then other criminals could give Vulture the shake down in prison and find out who he is if they know that he knows

BannerBaby Yeah I wonder why that one enemy who knows hasn't told everyone his real identity. Isn't that what evil people do when they find out a secret identity?

henrytech Maybe Spides threatened him to stay quiet?

PenguinBad I mean maybe, but that doesn't seem his style

TotallyNotDeadpool At least in this universe he doesn't strut down the street making weird finger guns, trying to impress women

Cordolicious What the fuck? Where did that even come from?

TotallyNotDeadpool Just saying. That would be weird.

#fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #spiderman #jenniboo311 #hot ones avengers #social butterfly Spidey #humour #peter parker #secret identity #iron man #tony stark

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torendheavenandearth · 4 years

Text

1.2

“As they fought, Radya Indarapatra slashed Omaka-an one hundred and fifty times, but Omaka-an’s star body was not cut completely. The great starlight beast roared in laughter ‘YOU HAVE NOT CUT ME!’

Radya Indarapatra, the Immortal Heaven Hero of Mantapoli, sheathed his kampilan and responded: ‘The way a datu kills is not by cutting the body into pieces.’ And with that, the Omaka-an fell dead.” - Radya Indarapatra, the Hero of Mantapoli

▼

“W-Wait--” The demon lady grabs Angela’s hand--causing her to yelp--and pulls her away from the procession, walking past the throngs of people that are now rushing up to the procession with baskets of food and other trade goods. They walk-run almost expertly through the throngs of people until they arrive at a relatively sparse area that has bamboo stilt houses stacked on top of each other, connected by ladders and walkways and suspended bridges. Angela follows the demon lady up the ladders all the way to a fourth house upon a stack--the tallest ones only go for five stacks--and yelps again when the demon lady slams the door shut behind them.

Angela didn’t notice how hard she was breathing. She looks down upon herself and finds her skin sticky against the fluffiness of her hoodie.

“Your raiments,” says the demon lady, not looking like she had just run a sudden walkathon. “You should change. It is too hot and humid for that.”

“Yeah,” Angela says in between gasps for breath. “Tell me about it.”

“Remove them now. I have some clothing you can change into.”

Angela nods and removes her hoodie, revealing her school blouse underneath--a simple white blouse with a dark blue collar. She fixes her hair and puts the hoodie down on a wooden chair. The woman vanishes into the only room: a partitioned off part of the house.

While waiting, Angela looks about and inspects the house. Of course, the first strange thing she notices is how the bamboo stilt houses are stacked on top of each other. They had bamboo stilt houses back in the Philippines: nipa huts or bahay kubo they called them, but they were never built up like this. They look and feel like… strange, retro classical apartment complexes.

The house itself is relatively small, although there is more than enough space for two people. There is a sort of kitchen on the far side, where there is a stone top stove and some cast iron pots and pans. There is plumbing, Angela realizes, as she hears water swooshing down near her. The pipes are made of bamboo. There is a wooden table in the middle, and there are two chairs that flank it, both made of some sort of hardwood. Another table sits upon the corner in an L-shape, and upon it is a horrible mess of paper, flasks, alcohol, and ink.

Perhaps the most interesting thing to Angela here is the candle, which burns upon the table. There it illuminates a single piece of parchment. The flame that dances upon it, however, has eyes. When the being notices that Angela is looking at it too, its mouth opens. “Yo.”

“Y-Yo.” She lifts her hand up half-heartedly and waves in a non-committal wave.

“Name’s Muntiliyab. You?”

Angela blinks.

“Muntiliyab,” says the woman, as she comes out of her room and gives her a stack of folded clothes. “Means ‘Small Blaze’. You should go change.” The lady herself has changed into a loose baro--one that has wide flared open sleeves-- that is made up of what looks like pina fiber, which makes the blouse somewhat transparent, allowing Angela to see the black brassiere that she has underneath. Her muscles are taut, and when she moves, Angela notices the outline of her abdomen. Below that, the demon lady wears a beautifully colored white and red tapis. A tapis that is much too wide for her and shows off her pale leg through a slit.

Now, this is weird for Angela, since she’s used to having the tapis be put over the saya skirt. She supposes then that it’s the fashion here, and that it is somewhat freer to move in than others.

Another thing that’s now awfully obvious and striking through the see-through baro is that almost every inch below the demon lady’s neck is covered in tattoos. An intricate latticework of abstract depictions of snakes, the sun, swords, crocodiles, and eagles. They’re the traditional batuk tattoos that Angela had read about. Very similar to the ancient tattoos of Precolonial Philippines. Every part of her is covered in those tattoos, with the only parts not being covered seemingly being her neck and head, her hands, and her feet.

“Okay, but what’s your name?” Angela asks the demon lady.

The woman walks over to the kitchen and puts a pan on the stovetop, which is a simple steel grate with a couple of coals beneath it. The woman snaps her fingers once, leans in close to the coal, and then whispers something inaudible. In the next moment, a flame comes to life, dancing happily on the coals. “More stuff to cook?” the embers say and giggle. “What you got today?”

“Eggs,” replies the woman, cracking a few over the cast iron pan.

“Gotcha. Leave it to me!”

Absentmindedly, Angela asks: “How can the fire talk…?”

“Ang Nilapastangan. That’s my name,” says the woman, turning around. She has removed her salakot, showcasing her white hair and pink horns. She stares at Angela for a bit before shrugging and then turning back to the egg that she’s cooking. “But that’s a mouthful, so you can just call me Nila.”

Ang Nilapastangan. The Blasphemed. “O-Okay. Nila.”

There is a knock on the door. The sound of the rapping doesn’t even finish ringing out yet when the door swings open and in comes a tiny creature with black bulbous eyes and lanky arms and legs. Angela considers him tiny because he only goes up to her knees, and Angela already isn’t exactly the tallest of the lot. Additionally, he’s wearing a simple collarless white shirt, brown pants, and no slippers. Farmer’s clothing. “Nila! All right so about your taya in the cock-fighting ring--” he stops and then looks up at Angela. “--teka, who the fuck are you?” He turns to the demon lady. “Nila who the fuck is this?”

Angela blinks and then looks down at him. “Are you a duwende? Like the ones from outside the village?”

The duwende freezes. And then, like a sudden whistle, his bolo is out, flashing, pointing at Angela, ready to skewer her right here and then. Due to the duwende’s size, the bolo looks like a longsword in his arms.

Angela yelps and takes a step back, slamming onto the rattan wall of the nipa hut. The clothes in her arms fall onto the bamboo slat floor of the house, scattering into a messy heap. Before Angela can react, the duwende boy is up clinging on the wall that she’s backed into and, with his bolo pressed against her neck, snarls: “I knew it! You’re some kinda underworld spy! I’m never going back, you hear?!”

Angela blinks, but the shock of the moment blocks her thinking, and she cannot speak.

“Calm down, Makabintang, you’re jumping into conclusions again.” Ang Nilapastangan is behind the duwende, lifting him by his neck and then throwing him against the wall on the other side, narrowly missing the window. The boy doesn’t slam onto the wall but instead flips in the air and lands on his feet.

“What if she’s some sorta duwende glamour that’s trying to get me back into the under-lungsod?” He shouts without missing a beat as if he hasn’t just been thrown against a wall and would’ve been falling out a four-story tall complex if Ang Nilapastangan had aimed just a bit wrongly.

“The duwende don’t care about you,” replies Ang Nilapastangan. She turns to Angela, who’s still pressed up against the wall, and tilts her head up by pushing her chin up with her fingers. Ang Nilapastangan checks if there are any wounds from the bolo. Angela feels time slow down, and she feels the very deliberate decision of gulping.

When Ang Nilapastangan confirms that no wounds have been left, she sighs and nods. “Angela, this is Makabintang. Makabintang, Angela.”

Angela nods. She doesn’t say anything. “Angela, go into the room and change.” Angela nods again and follows Ang Nilapastangan’s orders.

Ang Nilapastangan picks up the clothes that have been scattered on the floor and gives them to Angela. Angela takes them and walks into the room. With that done, Ang Nilapastangan turns to Makabintang. “Now, what are you doing here?”

Makabintang still squints at her. He drops down to the ground and “sheathes” his bolo by shoving it behind him. When he lets go of it, the bolo is nowhere to be found. “You’ve pre-betted on the next big sabong fight right?”

Ang Nilapastangan nods as she walks over to what she’s cooking. She removes the already cooked egg, cracks another one onto the pan, and then places a few pieces of pork tocino onto the pan. “Tocino?” asks the flame. Ang Nilapastangan nods, and the flame shrugs seemingly in response.

“Well, the fight? It’s been canceled. The authorities are tightening up for some reason. There’s been no announcement or official missive. The Guwardya Sibil are just coming in and stopping everyone from doing stuff.”

Ang Nilapastangan sighs. “I think I know why.” She turns and glances at the room where Angela’s changing.

The duwende blinks. “And?” He turns to the door and blinks in confusion. “Uh, what are you glancing at the room for?”

“The Hagdanan. It has begun.”

Makabintang works the cogs in his mind. He smirks and then shakes his head. “No, all right, let me get this straight. THE Hagdanan has begun? That thing that all the old people talk about but doesn’t really happen? The one that old babaylan would cryptically talk about but no one believes? THAT Hagdanan?”

Ang Nilapastangan nods as she begins placing the fried eggs and tocino upon a porcelain plate.

“THE Hagdanan, that I never thought I would be able to see in the 32 years of my life. It’s happening right now?” As he says that, Angela appears out of the room--which curiously only had a banig, a rattan mat for sleeping on, a box or stack of presumably Nila’s things and valuables, most of them simply scattered across the floor, and what looked to be a small wooden shrine with a single wooden idol seated atop them. That idol is mostly made of wood, with a strange crown rising from her head, shaped like the rays of the sun encircling a great turban, and then the idol is depicted as sitting, while their two other pairs of arms are stuck in strange poses, as if mid-movement to attack.

A larawan, Angela somehow recalls.

Angela has shed her school blouse and skirt for a longer saya that reaches her calves and a shorter, thinner, and lighter fabric baro, colored the brightest yellow. The sleeves were left widely open, instead of the other baro she’s seen before, so Angela appreciates the movement and the brisk cool air that now wraps around her body, unimpeded by her hoodie. That hoodie she has neatly folded and put into a corner in Nila’s room.

Ang Nilapastangan nods in approval of her new change of clothes. “I suppose we owe you an explanation.”

Angela scoffs. “That’s an understatement.”

“Wait,” the insufferable Makabintang interjects again. “She’s not from here?”

Ang Nilapastangan shakes her head. “She is not of Sansinukob at all.”

Angela nods. “Yeah I’m from the Philippines, I think.” Angela then begins picking up the pieces of clothing she’d dropped and put it on the table next to her. Ang Nilapastangan gestures for her to remove it from the table as she puts the tocino and egg on the table. “I… I think I’m remembering a bit. Although I can’t remember past a certain night.”

“Philippines? What the fuck is a Philippines?”

Angela snorts. “Some say it’s hell.”

“Impyerno?” asks Makabintang.

“The food is ready,” Ang Nilapastangan interjects. She turns to Makabintang, raising an eyebrow. “And I know why you’re really here.”

“What’re you talking about? I got here because I had to deliver the sabong news!” he says as he hops up on one of the chairs flanking the table and beginning to feed on the tocino and egg. Nila also puts a bowl of rice on the table.

“Come and eat,” says Nila to Angela. “We have a long explanation ahead of us. But perhaps, this is a good time to explain a bit about yourself?”

Angela shakes her head. “Like I said…” she says as she sits down on a carved wooden chair. Nila takes it upon herself to give her a cup of rice and some tocino and egg. “...I don’t remember much. Just what happened that night.”

“That night?” asks Makabintang.

Angela nods. “The night where… where I was taken by those strange beings made of flame? I was stolen by a creature of burning blue fire.”

“An Anghel,” says Makabintang.

“Not just an Anghel. A Serapin. You were abducted by the group known as Para sa Luklukan.”

Makabintang blinks once and then turns to Ang Nilapastangan. “Are you sure, Nila? THAT Luklukan?”

Angela lets out a short, amused snort at that. “Is that what you usually say Makabintang every time Nila says something?”

“What’re you--shut up.” Makabintang rolls his eyes and goes back to devouring his food.

Angela turns to Ang Nilapastangan, but she is staring straight into her spoon, her brows furrowed and her mouth in a downward curve. Angela waits for her to finish her rumination.

After a full minute of stillness, she says: “Para sa Luklukan is, in the simplest terms, a sort of mortal trafficking ring conducted by the anghel. Anghel being the servants of the Holy Trinity. They are probably called Angels in other languages and universes--that word came from anghel after all. Now the purpose of the Ring is more or less unknown. Some say it's for some strange ritual. A blood sacrifice, some underground circles say, to revive God. Others say it's to keep providing souls to the Holy Trinity, since apparently their diyostek works not on electricity but on souls and diwata since those are the ones that burn with Gahum.”

Makabintang is nodding. Angela is blinking in confusion. “All I understood is ‘mortal trafficking ring’,” says Angela. “So, what, I was a victim of some illegal smuggling operation?”

“An interdimensional angel-led smuggling operation that’s right,” answers Makabintang in between bites.

“Thanks, really helpful,” Angela mutters under her breath.

“But what’s interesting is that it coincides with the Hagdanan--” Angela opens her mouth to say something, but Ang Nilapastangan doesn’t stop, “--the Hagdanan is a multiversal blood competition wherein one hundred and fifty souls are transported into Sansinukob and made to fight against each other to find out who is strong enough to be the next MAYKAPAL, the creator of the next universe.”

Angela blinks. “What?”

If Ang Nilapastangan noticed Angela’s confusion, she doesn’t show it. “There have been three so far. The first two Hagdanan have all ended in bloodbaths where no one won. That was the preferred outcome, I am told. The Trinity gets to keep their hold in this current universe.”

“What about the third one? Did someone win?” asks Angela.

“Yes. In the third Hagdanan, after growing into godlike power and killing the rest of the contestants in a bloody duel to the death, someone finally won.”

“Who?”

Ang Nilapastangan goes back to eating a piece of tocino. “Me.”

▼

Angela blinks. She looks up and down the demon lady, at Ang Nilapastangan, at the horns that grow out of her brow and her weird, edgy red and black eyes. “So… you have the power to become the next MAYKAPAL?”

Ang Nilapastangan shakes her head. She opens her mouth to say something more before she is interrupted by a thud-thud-thud on her door. All three of them suddenly pause, as if some invisible god grabbed them by their necks. Angela looks at Ang Nilapastangan and Makabintang, blinking rapidly in confusion.

Ang Nilapastangan turns to the door and squints. “Angela, hide in the room. Makabintang, keep eating.”

“On it,” says Makabintang, doing a small kind of salute, before going back to devour his food.

Angela follows Ang Nilapastangan’s orders again, walking into the room and closing the door, although she keeps a small slit open so that she can peek out and see what’s happening. When Ang Nilapastangan is sure that Angela is hidden, she walks up to the front door and flings it open.

On the other side of the door are two beings wrapped in that strange armor. Both of them look like perfectly handsome human males: one has dark red hair and the palest of skin, the greenest of eyes. In his back is strapped a shield, and then on a scabbard is a strange bulky sword. His posture is lax, leaning against the railings of the walkway.

The one that opens his mouth to speak is wearing a pure black coat that falls to his knees. Within he wears something that looks like a kevlar vest. He has white hair that is slicked back, and he has a European style saber that he holds in one hand. He stands with his back straight, his shoulders held back.

They both stood a full two heads taller than Ang Nilapastangan, but she--wearing that loose baro and tapis--somehow looks as if she’s looking down on them.

“Good day. We are the Celestial Sword wing of the Hukbong-Katihan and we’ve come to ask a few questions if you wouldn’t mind, binibini.” Hukbong-Katihan? The land army? Thinks Angela to herself, as the words are familiar to her.

Ang Nilapastangan puts her hand on her hip. “What is the Hukbong-Katihan doing here in the lowly village of Laurel? And even more so: coming to a random balay in the stacks?”

The white-haired one’s eyes flicker to where Angela is. For a split second, she could’ve sworn that she saw him stare at her. “I would suggest that cooperation is in your best interest,” says the white-haired one. His grip on his saber is loose, relaxed. “We have spent the last few days tracking down a young lady that has escaped our care. We are supposed to be rehabilitating and helping her get accustomed to Biringan life.”

“Oh yeah?” from out of one of her sleeves, Ang Nilapastangan brings out a cigar and lights it with a snap of her finger, which causes her finger to glow a bright red. She drags one out and then blows the smoke into the white-haired one’s face. The red-haired one’s face grows wild, like a tiger finding prey, and he surges forward, but the white-haired one simply blocks him with his hand.

“Yes,” says the white-haired one, staring at the red-haired one and then back at Ang Nilapastangan. “Look here, Ang Nilapastangan. We do not need to do this smoke and mirrors--”

“--heh--”

“--simply surrender to us the girl and you will go undisturbed for the rest of your days. I am sure that is in your best interest, yes?”

It’s raining outside, Angela notices. The water streaming down behind the two men is harsh. A storm?

Thunder roars.

Definitely a storm.

Angela can feel the bamboo slat floors beneath her rattling. Vibrating. As if in anticipation.

She looks up at Ang Nilapastangan once again. Her feet are glowing that same hot crimson color, and the bamboo slat floor beneath her is… smoking?

“I’m kinda stupid,” says Ang Nilapastangan. “I don’t always choose the things that are in my best interest.”

And then, in conjunction with a bolt of lightning striking the ground behind them, the white-haired one’s hair blazes into a bright blue, and a halo of swords materializes behind his head. He unsheathes his saber at the same time as Ang Nilapastangan flicks her cigar towards him and then swings her foot. The blue one isn’t able to do anything but raise his saber’s blade to block her kick.

Ang Nilapastangan’s glowing foot, on the other hand, connects with his blade and sends him flying straight out of the small platform he is standing on and into balay on the other side of the street. After that, she turns around and closes the door.

“So the Hagdanan has begun,” Ang Nilapastangan turns to Angela. “And the Para sa Luklukan has been a bit more proactive in looking for new people to smuggle. Something smells fishy, and they definitely sound connected.” She walks over to Makabintang and picks him up by his neck. “You’re going to help me get the cute little girl out of here, klaro?”

“Wh-what? What the hell are you talking about?” She throws Makabintang straight through the door and into the room where Angela is hiding. Makabintang slams against the rattan walls and he groans as he slides to the floor.

Before long, he picks himself up and starts walking back towards the other room. “Now you listen here ya lil puta, you’re going to--”

Before he can say anything else, however, Ang Nilapastangan is struck through her chest with a saber as the blue man suddenly materializes behind her, seemingly out of thin air. The entire front portion of the hut is ripped away by a wild wind. The blue man now has a pair of blazing azure wings exploding from his back.

Behind Makabintang and Angela, the wall is ripped open by a crimson sword, wielded by the red-haired man. Now he’s wearing a strange a smiling mask: one of the Pained Saint, and crimson wings are exploding from his back. A crimson and azure angel duo.

Angela screams. Makabintang curses: “Putangamang diyos ko!” My bitch father god!

A flood of events happens in that Setsuna moment and somehow, Angela manages to reasonably keep track of it: she sees Ang Nilapastangan roll her eyes and slam her heel against the Azure Angel, this time causing him to double over. And then, with her bare hands burning a bright scarlet and her white hair burning an ashen pale white, she grabs the Azure Angel’s halo of swords, tears it in two with her bare hands, and then clamps them together at the Azure Angel’s neck, ripping the being’s head straight off.

Seemingly in response to that, the Crimson Angel roars in agony and wrath. Makabintang screams in terror. Angela is speechless: shock is a hell of a muter. The Crimson Angel surges toward Ang Nilapastangan, raising his bulky sword and shield.

The Scarlet Demon that is Ang Nilapastangan, however, turns and throws the halo of swords--now bloody with a strange, stringy blue ichor--at the Crimson Angel, who blocks the attack with his shield, but Ang Nilapastangan has already begun to run. When the Crimson Angel lowers his shield to see, Ang Nilapastangan is already in the air in front of him, her entire body in the positioned in the form of a dropkick.

Ang Nilapastangan bellows: “「YAWA UPENDS HEAVEN STYLE: CONTINENTAL DROPKICK!」” Somehow, Angela sees those words materialize into the air beside Ang Nilapastangan, turning into a strange, blocky script that somewhat resembles a mix of badlit and baybayin. Angela can somehow read it, despite having never seen the writing before. It simply says “Kontinental Hulog-Sipa”. Yes, she read it in Tagalog, and she has no idea why.

The Continental Dropkick slams directly into the Crimson Angel’s face. There’s a second of impact--a sudden pause as the universe decides to catch up with the daring action, as if It couldn’t quite believe it either--and then the hit registers. The Crimson Angel is sent flying straight out of the house, so fast that there is an afterimage of the Angel that shatters when the dropkick follows through.

Ang Nilapastangan falls to the floor and then kicks herself off of the ground, Chinese getup style.

The moment afterwards is a strange lull in excitement and noise. A sudden silence, like that strange instant between inhale and exhale.

Makabintang is fucking wheezing. “Nila, you’re showing off your power level!”

“Shut up,” says Ang Nilapastangan, turning to the both of them. She’s still glowing red, and her hair moves as if it's underwater, floating up and staying suspended unless she moves her head in such a way that tugs the strands along. She turns to Angela: “Angela, come with me. We have to leave this entire barangay.”

“What?” asks Makabintang, rising to his feet and going over to the table to grab the last piece of tocino that hasn’t been burnt to crisp. “Leave Laurel? You can take those Anghel on I mean come on, you just fucking dropkicked one of ‘em!”

Nila shakes her head. “There will be more of them, and they will be chasing after me once word gets out.”

“Word of what?”

“Word of my survival.”

Angela blinks. “Why not just kill them all? Don’t you have the same power as MAYKAPAL? That would make you God.” She tilts her head as she thinks. Back in the Philippines, the term ‘Bathalang Maykapal’ is synonymous with God. As in, the Almighty God that one can find in monotheistic religions.

Ang Nilapastangan shakes her head, however. “That was all a fucking lie. No mortal person will be able to have the same ‘power’ of MAYKAPAL. It’s an impossibility. No one is going to ascend to the throne: it’s already been taken and shat upon by the Holy Trinity.

“No, the Hagdanan has only one purpose:

“To find those strongest, those that are the biggest threats to the Trinity, and kill them.”

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