Requested by: OMGimsoFanGirling

Prompt: #3

"I don't know if I should kill you or kiss you right now."

"Can I pick?"

#29

"Who are you?"

"Demon to some, angel to others."

Warnings: None

Extra:

~*~

MJ Jones was not an open book. She wasn't an enigma either. She was a book that you enjoyed reading, but it was far out of your lexile, so it was damn near impossible to fully understand what was going on.

That didn't stop me from wanting to learn how to read it. I worked hard to get close to MJ. She was a mystery I had to solve, no matter what it took. I would soon regret that mentality, well, regret and be extremely thankful for it.

Spider-Man wasn't New York's only hero. The Avengers originated there, Daredevil handled Hell's Kitchen, and I... helped when I could.

Born with an adoptive muscle memory, I could perfectly replicate every body motion that I ever saw. Even the impossible ones you saw in movies that were obviously fake. It was a superpower from a fluke of the universe- not a secret Russian operation, or an extremely unhealthy amount of Gamma radiation.

I was okay with not being a public hero. A news source here or there speculated about my existence and what I was able to do, but everyone was always much more focused on the bigger heroes and their problems. It also hid my questionable fighting styles. A lot of the moves I could mimic were less than safe. I never went as far as to kill anyone, but broken bones weren't uncommon. Criminals deserved it.

Leading the double life wasn't as hard as people made it out to be. At least it wasn't when you didn't make it hard on yourself. I understood that Spider-Man would handle obvious and large scale crime, Daredevil would handle the deep underworld, and I handled the inbetween. The top layers of the underworld were my strong suit, and I was good at handling it.

"Hey, MJ, do you guys have Decathlon practice tonight?" I slid into the seat across from her at the lunch table. In the past, she sat alone. Ever since homecoming, she sat a few places closer to Peter Parker and Ned Leeds. Not close enough to come off as a friend, but close enough to show she was aware of their existence.

"It's the off season, so no," MJ actually spared me a glance. It was major progress. Enough progress that I had gained the confidence to ask her-

"Do you want to come to my performance tonight? It's our first cheer competition and it's in the gym here. I just thought that-"

"I can't, sorry. There's a thing I have to do tonight," MJ dismissed, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before returning to their normal, scrutinizing state.

"Oh... that's fine. It's fine, I get it." I didn't, but I wasn't going to admit that to her. Realistically, I was prepared for rejection- we weren't as close as I would have liked, afterall, but it still hurt.

I left, unsure if I even wanted to continue the school day. I had more classes with her, and I just didn't want to look at her knowing that all of my hopes of what would come from her attending my cheer competition. So I called my mom, told her that I was sick. She couldn't leave work, so she called the school and told them I had an appointment so I could be dismissed early.

I went home, unsure of what to do. Normally, I'd either be doing homework or going through the motions of my cheers, but I couldn't bring myself to do either of those things- even with our impending cheer performance.

I laid around for the rest of the day, going in between thinking about what happened with MJ and other things. It was stupid to ask her in the first place, I concluded. MJ had always been open about not being straight- putting anyone who said anything negative about it in their place- but that didn't mean she had to be attracted to me like I was to her.

When the time came to go to my cheer performance, I put on my uniform and all the makeup that came along with it. My mom was home to take me by that point, me dad meeting us there.

I was off my game during the competition, and my entire team was aware of it. Because the competition was taking place at our school, we couldn't be judged seriously in case of favoritism, so it was all for the crowd's entertainment- taking away some guilt about being so off my game.

When our performance was finished, I quickly apologized to my coach and team about all the times I stumbled during stunts. They knew I didn't mess up. My adoptive muscle memory would never allow it- though they didn't know of that. So I lied and said that I felt sick, and proved it further by explaining that I left school early that day. My coach was quick to let me go home early, holding no desire to get the rest of the team "sick".

Waving my parents down from the bleachers, I explained that the coach was letting me go home early because I felt so crappy. They were okay with leaving, not eager to stay and watch teams perform for another four hours.

We got dinner on the way home, Chinese takeout, and ate it together in the living room. Then, I told my parents I was tired and wanted to go to bed early. It was Friday, and the next morning I'd be able to do whatever I wanted.

Instead of going to bed, however, I pulled on the "uniform" I had for my hero costume. It was just black cargo pants a red long sleeve, and a masquerade mask. In the future, I'd have to buy some more protection for myself- something bulletproof so I wouldn't get myself killed while facing a drug lord.

For the time being, I was doing just fine for myself. Being sure to shut my lights off and turn my fan on to give the illusion that I was sleeping, I slid up my window and stepped out into the night.

I loved taking the "night shift" for hero work. Spider-Man generally worked during the evening unless there was something bigger going on, so it was up to me and Daredevil to take on the darkness. I thrived in it, in taking my time to stalk the criminals I was going to deal with.

The first was a normal New York mugger, out to get some easy cash from an unsuspecting couple walking to the subway from a date. He trailed them, and they were aware. I trailed him, and he was unaware. It was a train of predators chasing after their prey, but I was higher on the food chain, and I made that evident when I pounced.

Landing on the man's shoulders, I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned back. My weight caused him to stumble into the alleyway just behind us. Out of the eyes of the public, I threw my body backwards. He fell to the ground, unprepared. I jumped off of his shoulders in time to not be taken back as well.

"You were going to attack them," I was quick to sit on his chest, leaning my elbow in between his lungs. The pressure to his chest would force the air out and keep him down, "Take their money. Any intent to kill?"

He opened his mouth and let out a few strangled puffs of air, but it was a rhetorical question. I used my other hand to look through his pockets, retrieving a pocket knife and throwing it across the alleyway. There was nothing else. He truly was a small time mugger.

"Why do you need the money? Any family?" The man managed to shake his head. I always took it easier on people who were just desperate, pointed them in the direction of hiring businesses or homeless shelters that would take good care of them, "Gambling debts?" The man shook his head again. I leaned in and observed his face in the dim light coming from the streetlights behind us. Scruffy, unkempt, and dilated pupils, "Drug addiction."

That was always conflicting for me. Addiction is a disease before it's illegal, in all honesty. People are driven to it for whatever reason, and they need to be treated for it. A simple beating from me wouldn't stop him from mugging people in the future for his drug of choice.

"Get yourself into rehab, there are a few in Manhattan that will take you for free. If you don't," I punched him once, taking note of the crack from his nose, not loud enough to be a break. Probably just a bad bruise, "I'll be back. Don't think that's an empty threat, or you'll get more than a bruised nose."

I jumped off his body. I walked across the alley and picked up his pocket knife, pocketing it myself. I'd throw it away far from the scene, trusting that no one would go digging through the trash for it.

After that, I came across two other muggers, a potential robber, an attempted rapists, and a drug seller. It was getting into the late hours, and I was ready to go home and showers when I heard the screams.

Sprinting over the rooftops to reach the source, different scenarios ran through my mind. Break in, deal gone wrong, mugging, attempted rape. But none of them matched up to the scene I intercepted. It looked like a simple attack. The man wasn't screaming for money, nor was he trying to take off her clothes.

"What did you see?" The man growled, pulling on the girl's wrist so hard that she nearly fell to the ground.

"Nothing, I didn't see anything!" I knew that voice. It was the same voice that rejected me earlier that day, only much more frantic- MJ had lost her monotone drawl in her fear, and that made me livid.

"I'll have to shut you up just to be safe. You shouldn't have interfered."

I took that as my cue. I landed lightly on my feet behind the man, smiling when he turned around. He had a gun, which I kicked out of his hand before he could think to pull the trigger. He was well trained. I could tell as soon as he tried to punch me. But I was better. I'd always be better because whatever trained them, I'd seen it too, and more.

Punch, kick, block, hit on me, hit on him. I was already tired from everything I'd had to deal with that night, and I was determined to make this last fight a quick one. No matter how many moves I memorized, or how much I used it against other people, I had the stamina of a normal human, and it was at its lowest point.

Finally, I got a good grip on the man's arm and kicked out his knee so I could pull it behind his back. I pulled as hard as I could, and knew that it dislocated when it popped and he screamed in pain. Kicking his back, I slammed his face into the hard concrete beneath us.

"You come after her again, and I'll break every bone in your body. Slowly, painfully, relishing in every one of your screams. And after you, I'll go after who you work for, and do the same thing to every one of them until you're all a mess of bone fragments. Go!"

The man stumbled to his feet, and sprinted out of the alleway. It was perhaps the most sadistic thing I had ever said to a criminal. I meant it, and it scared me slightly. I wasn't afraid to cause pain, but to go that far? But then I looked at MJ, and remembered why I was so willing.

"Who are you?" She breathed out.

"Demon to some, angel to others." It sounded just as cool in my head as it did outloud, especially considering what I just did to the guy who was attacking her. I was very careful to keep my voice low and quiet, just loud enough for her to hear, "What did he want with you."

"I've been investigating a kidnapping ring. I accidentally walked in on one of their meetings while trying to get some more evidence," MJ held up a camera, "I ran, and that guy came after me. That's where you came in."

"Give me the evidence. I'll give it to the police," I reached out for the camera but MJ quickly pulled it away.

"They're involved to."

"Shit," I sighed, wishing I could pinch the bridge of my nose through my mask, "I'll bring it to someone else then, someone who can really handle it."

"Who?"

"Daredevil. He's good with these things. We have a place we can meet," we did. It would have been impossible to work as vigilantes in New York and not meet at one point or another. So we exchanged burner numbers and left it at that, "We'll take them out and give the case to prosecutors who won't be influenced, I need you to trust me, MJ." MJ gave me the camera, albeit hesitantly.

"Thank you," she mumbled. Nodding once and smiling, I turned to leave, "(Y/n)?"

"Yeah? Shit!" My eyes widened when I realized my mistake, "No, no, no. I just said that because you said someone's name. Not mine."

"I never told you my name," MJ ignored my pleas, "Yet you knew it anyway. So you know me outside of being a vigilante. Your body types match, and (Y/n) does cheer. You incorporated cheer moves into your fighting style."

"... shit," I repeated, then realized, "Wait, how would you know about my cheer moves if you've never seen me perform before?"

It was MJ's turn to stutter, "I've uh, I've just seen videos online before."

"Oh the stunts from our newest performance, debuted at the competition tonight?" I continued to interrogate. MJ folded with a sigh.

"I went," she admitted, "I just didn't want you to know."

"Why? Why would you reject me like that if you went anyway?"

"Because I'm not good at feelings. They mess things up, but then I messed things up anyway. I wanted to go there to watch and apologize when the competition was finished, but-"

"I left early," I finished with a shocked smile, "You actually went."

"Yeah, because I like you, and I messed up." MJ admitted sheepishly.

Shocked, I muttered, "I don't know if I should kill you or kiss you right now."

"Can I pick? Because you really threatened that guy when you beat him up."

"Only because he was hurting you. It was really irresponsible of you to investigate this kidnapping ring on your own. What if I wasn't here to save you, or if he ended up shooting me and took us both to-"

I was cut off by soft lips on mine. A fire started in my veins and filled me with warmth. When we pulled apart, both of us were stuck smiling at each other like lovestruck idiots.

"We have a lot to talk about," MJ concluded, "And we will, I promise. Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow. I'll text you. Stay safe, alright? Stay on the main roads." MJ nodded, and we went our separate ways.

Gripping the camera tightly, I knew the situation with the kidnapping ring wasn't over, but I didn't care. MJ was no longer a more than complicated book. I understood her, and I could read.