Morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows of Midtown High, stretching across the polished floors in long golden lines.
The hallway buzzed with its usual chaos — lockers slamming, shoes squeaking, voices overlapping into a constant wave of noise that never really stopped.
Jack moved through it all with his backpack slung over one shoulder, his steps steady but his mind somewhere else entirely. Last night kept replaying. The robbery. The criminals. Tombstone.
Twice now he had run into operations connected to that name. That wasn't coincidence. Something bigger was forming beneath the surface — and he had already stepped into it.
He pushed the thought down as he entered the classroom.
Peter Parker was already there. Of course he was. He was leaning over his phone, completely absorbed, the faint glow of the screen reflecting off his glasses as his fingers scrolled quickly.
Jack dropped into the seat beside him. "What's got you so focused this early?"
Peter didn't look up. "Dude… you seriously didn't see the news?"
"Which news?"
Without answering, Peter turned the phone toward him. A reporter stood in front of a burned apartment building, emergency lights flashing behind her.
"…witnesses say several residents were rescued before firefighters could reach them…"
Jack's stomach tightened. Right. That.
"…authorities still don't know who pulled the victims out—"
"It was the Blur!" someone in the footage said excitedly. "He grabbed me and I was just — outside!" Another voice jumped in. "Yeah! Something blue — fast — like, not human!"
Peter leaned back grinning. "The internet is losing it over this."
Jack scratched the back of his neck, forcing a casual tone. "Sounds… dramatic."
"If someone runs into a burning building and pulls out seventeen people," Peter said, "they kind of earn a cool name."
Before Jack could respond, Peter suddenly paused. "…Wait." He leaned in, squinting toward Jack's wrist. "Dude."
Jack blinked. "What?"
"That watch."
Jack glanced down instinctively.
Peter pointed. "Isn't that different from yesterday?"
Gwen had just walked in and set her guitar case down. She glanced over. "Different how?"
"Yesterday it was black," Peter said. "Now it's silver. And I swear last week it looked completely different too."
Gwen tilted her head, studying it. "Huh… yeah. You do change watches a lot."
Jack kept his expression neutral. "I have more than one watch."
Peter didn't look convinced. "Yeah, but you switch them like daily. I didn't know you were rich."
"They're all cheap," Jack said. "I just like wearing different ones."
Peter squinted. "Still weird."
Jack shrugged lightly. "Better than wearing the same thing every day."
Gwen smirked. "Says the guy who wears the same jacket every day."
Peter snorted. "Exactly."
The moment passed. Jack leaned back slowly and let out a quiet breath. Thank god they believed it. He was going to have to stop using the Omnitrix disguise function so casually — if they kept noticing the watch changing, it was only a matter of time before the questions got harder.
Gwen pulled up a chair and glanced at Peter's phone. "What are you watching?"
Peter turned it toward her. "Fire incident last night. Apparently the Blur saved everyone."
Gwen watched silently as the footage played. "…He just appeared and pulled us out—"
She tilted her head. "So basically a superhero."
"Maybe," Peter said.
"Or," Gwen added, crossing her arms, "just some guy with insane cardio."
Peter laughed. "That's one way to look at it."
Jack stayed quiet.
"You know what?" Gwen continued, a faint smirk forming. "Maybe it's an alien."
Jack nearly choked, coughing hard.
Gwen frowned slightly. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," he said quickly.
Peter blinked. "An alien?"
Gwen shrugged. "It's one of the theories online."
Jack forced a laugh, though it came out a little stiff. She's not wrong.
Later, the classroom TV flickered on mid-lesson and the teacher let it run.
"…the NYPD has begun investigating increased gang activity across several boroughs…"
Jack's attention snapped up immediately. The screen shifted to a live interview. A familiar face appeared behind the reporter's microphone.
Gwen straightened in her seat. "That's my dad."
Captain George Stacy spoke calmly into the camera. "…we've observed multiple gangs that appear to be coordinating operations. We believe this is organized activity, not isolated incidents…"
Jack's focus sharpened. Working together. That matched everything — the shipments, the operations, the pattern he'd been tracking for weeks.
"…we strongly advise civilians not to interfere and to allow law enforcement to handle the situation…"
The broadcast ended and the teacher reached for the remote. The classroom murmured briefly then settled back into the lesson.
But Jack didn't move. The pieces were locking into place quietly in his head. This wasn't random. It wasn't isolated. It was organized, and someone was pulling the strings across all of it.
Tombstone.
The name settled heavily in his mind. If the gangs were coordinating then someone was directing them. And Jack had already hit their operations more than once.
He stared ahead, his expression unreadable.
This wasn't street-level anymore. Somewhere in the city, someone had already started noticing the Blur.
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