Chapter 4

I find myself struck dumb as I try to speak.

"Uhm, h-hi." I squeak, unsure what to say.

"Hello. You've come for help, haven't you?" He rests one leg atop the other as he speaks.

"I, yeah. I have a bit of an issue."I pause, feeling flustered. "But you probably-you probably already know since you monitor-monitor beings coming to and from this world..."

He threads his fingers together and nods. "I did notice you, yes." He says in his low voice. My stomach is doing cartwheels and my heart is making its way up to my ears. I feel my cheeks turn red and I look to the floor.

"Yeah. I figured that you, uhm, monitor threats... so that's why I thought I should come to talk to you." I say, fidgeting with my fingers.

"Though you are a threat, you will ultimately decide what path you walk down. You could always walk down the dark path, and I, or others, would deal with you. But currently, your moral compass seems to not have been...damaged by your trip. That is always a possibility, flipping universes." He says gently, and I look up at him.

"Uh..wait. So, there was a possibility I could have landed here opposite me? Like, evil me? That's-"

Before I can finish my sentence, something smacks me in the back of the head before rolling over my shoulder and into my lap. I look down and see it's a small dark leather pouch no bigger than a pear.

"Well, I think that is the help that you have been looking for." He says, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth.

"I don't think getting hit in the head is going to do me any favors," I say, annoyed.

He snorts. "Though you're right about that, it seems that pouch chose you. As I'm sure you're aware, the relics choose who they wish. You came looking for help, the answer to your prayers literally just smacked you in the back of the head."He stands, and I do the same. "Now. That little book you came with? Continue studying it, as it will help in the long run. It should eventually talk about how to control this."

He hands me a small slip of paper, then says, "If you need any more help, let me know."

I thank him, then walk down the stairs, pausing to look at the spot Loki had fallen onto. I hesitate for a moment and quietly laugh. That had been one of my favorite scenes of all time, and now I'm in the same room as it, in the same universe!

I walk out the door and gently shut it behind me, and start on my way home. About five minutes into the walk, I find myself lost. I pull out my phone and examine the map, getting my bearings back.

Once I'm confident I know the way back, I take a few shortcuts through side alleys (I know, I know, probably not the best idea. Bite me.). About the third shortcut I take, I stumble upon a backpack webbed to the backside of a trashcan.

Acting on suspicion, I kneel down and tear at the webbing. It doesn't give at first, but eventually, I successfully detach it from the trashcan and open it. A tag inside reads: P. B.Parker. Just as I thought. Zipping it back up, I sling it onto my back and head back home.

Knocking on the Parkers' door, I expect May to answer, but instead Peter answers it.

I smile. "Hi, uh, I'm your neighbor, Asta. I found your bag." I hold it out. He looks slightly confused, then he takes it, and gives me a fake smile. When he reaches for the bag, I noticed the hair on his arm standing on end. I quickly pretend I didn't notice anything, and act naturally.

"Uhm, thanks. Where, where did you find it?" He asks, suspiciously. His on-edge behavior confuses me, am I really that much of a threat?

"In a back alley, not sure the exact loca-" I reply, but am interrupted by someone saying my name down the hall. I look in the direction of the call, and making her way down the hallway is May.

"Asta! Good to see you!" She says, her arms full of groceries. When she reaches us, she looks to him and says, "Peter! Let her inside. Don't be rude!" She laughs, and he moves aside to let us in.

"It's nice to see you again, Miss.Parker." I say, and as she unbags her groceries in the kitchen, she clicks her tongue. "Call me May! Miss. Parker makes me feel old." She laughs, and I apologize, and she waves it off.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? I'm making Fettuccine Alfredo, and it would be great to have you for dinner." She clatters around in the kitchen, pulling out cookware.

"I suppose that would be nice, thank you." I say, "Would you like any help?"

"Would you mind prepping the chicken?"She asks, buzzing around the kitchen.

"Of course!" I reply, cheerfully, and go into the kitchen and wash my hands, then get to work washing and slicing the chicken breast while she begins the sauce. Once in awhile, I glance at Peter out of the corner of my eye, who is sitting sideways on the couch, although he never once looks at me.

Am I really that much of a threat?

Well, joke's on him, cause the only one who gets hurt during cooking this evening is me, cause my dumbass forgot that pans get hot on live burners. Luckily May didn't notice, but I'm sure Peter did.

A little while later, the apartment is filled with wonderful smells of food, and soon it is time to serve dinner. I help set the table, and May serves us. She makes small talk while Peter and I sit awkwardly across from each other, the air between us feeling slightly dangerous. I can tell he's as uncomfortable as I am, and I glance up at him, then break the immediate eye contact. Luckily May pulls me out of the situation.

"So, what school are you going to be attending?" There it is, May saving the day then dropping me back into the fire.

"Uh, Midtown High," I say, between bites of amazing noodles. Her eyes light up at my response.

"Really? That's Peter's school!"She turns to him. "Looks like you have a new bus mate!" My heart speeds up. Oooooh, dear. Somehow the thought had never come tome, that not only would I be going to the same school as him, but riding the same bus, too.

"That's cool," I say, mustering a smile and looking at him. I try to show I'm no threat, just a normal person, but I don't think it's working. Is this how a real threat would act? Maybe I should just start threatening people with knives since that's the vibe I'm getting off of him.

"Yeah." He replies, with the same amount of forged happiness. If this were a completely different situation and I wasn't a magical issue-having person and my every move wasn't being watched, I'd be geeking out right now.

The rest of the evening is just as awkward,and I stick around to help with dishes, but after sitting down to after-dinner tea with them, Ned comes in, and I take that opportunity to skedaddle.

"Oh, stay, it's alright." May tries, but I apologize. "No, I can't, but thank you though. I have to go buy school supplies before it gets dark. Maybe another time?"

"Oh, alright. Stay safe! Or," she turns to Peter and Ned, "How about you boys go with her?"

"It's ok, Ms. May, I'll be fine. I've got fourteen years of jujitsu under my belt." I say, chuckling. Fourteen years of blood, sweat, and tears made up most of my childhood, alone with watching Spongeboob and riding my bike around the neighborhood (not to mention crashing into dumpsters because of my poor judgment).

"Ooh, a girl who's prepared. Nice!" She says, and we laugh, and she insists she gets the door for me. I thank her again for the meal.

"It was really no trouble at all. Come back anytime!" She says, waving at me.

"Thanks, I will!" I wave back, then head back to my apartment. When I am in the safety of my own home, I relax. May seems so nice, but Peter will probably tell her about how he did NOT like me, and I will never have her amazing cooking again. I cry inside at the thought.

I grab a fifty from my stash and head down to the local shop that I had scouted out earlier that day and buy a bag of apples, a loaf of bread, and another notebook. On my way through, I pass the isle of candy, and I grab about ten packs of gum. I bring my bounty to the checkout, and a tired-looking clerk doesn't question the fifty and rings me up, and I head back home.

Once I get home, it's 8:34, so I pop into the shower, then watch Animaniacs on DVD before bed. Eventually, the clock hits 9:30 and I shut everything off and lock the door. I check every window is locked, then go and brush my teeth and go to bed. I lay in bed awake and nervous for tomorrow.

What if I do something dumb? What if I'm too dumb to be at that school? What if I accidentally teleport somewhere in the middle of class, blowing my cover? What if the blue men that came after this world's me come after me and people get hurt?

I cover my face with a pillow and try to silence my thoughts, but it's no use.

I'll probably fall down the stairs or something tomorrow. Everyone will know me as 'the girl who fell down the stairs'.

I close my eyes and start singing nursery rhymes in my head, and when that doesn't work, I switch to Metallica's Enter Sandman, and I eventually find myself dreaming.

I glide through a palace of marble and gold as moonlight and gentle night air float through the open windows. Guards quietly walk through the halls, taking no notice of me. I float for a while, just bobbing down the halls until I begin feeling heavy, and I slowly float onto my feet. The marble feels cold on my bare feet, but it feels slightly refreshing. I wander the halls, looking at the intricate designs on the walls and ceilings. I turn right down a smaller hallway lined with columns with beautiful vases atop each one. I stop to admire a particular one that has caught my eye. It's a short and wide vase, adorned with accents of gold and blue, and the pictures on it show a battle on what appears to be the Bifrost. I gently pick it up, and see that it depicts a sword impaling what looks to be Hela, then on the other side, a purple head on a pike, held by a victorious Loki and Thor, and behind them is a somewhat intact Asgard. So, I guess Infinity war never happened, and therefore no Endgame?

That is a huge relief, like, good bye depression, hello never dead comfort characters!

Wait does that mean...Far From Home never happened?

My thoughts are interrupted by footsteps, and I scramble to put the vase back where it was. Quickly I hide behind the column, but I hesitate. Isn't this a dream? I wonder. Why am I h-

"Who's there?" calls a female voice, and my heart drops into my stomach. The rustle of a dress moves closer, and she says, "Come out, now. Do not make me call the guards." She walks past my hiding spot, and I sneak away, then I try to round a corner but I bump into a column and it rocks, and despite my effort to catch the vase, it tumbles to the ground, shattering. The woman whips around, and I run. I run as fast as my legs can possibly carry me, and I take random turns through the halls until I reach a pair of huge doors at the end of a hallway. Taking a chance it isn't a royal bedroom, I open the door and close it quickly behind me. I turn to see it is a huge library and let out a sigh of relief.

Walking quickly through the rows, I try to look for a good hiding spot. I wander into a small reading area, equipped with a fireplace, tables and chairs. Doubling over and putting my hands on my knees, I try to control my breathing and heart. When I am somewhat calm again and hear no rushing footsteps or shouts of, "She's over here!", I allow myself to look around.

The bookshelves tower high, at least twenty feet tall by forty wide, and the shelves are covered in books of every size. I approach one, looking at the colorful tomes. Most are the same kind of curvy and block-ish script, but others are written in oddly shaped, abstract letters, closely resembling the language in my hand-written book. As I examine the books, I forget where I am for a moment, I lower my guard, and jump out of my skin when someone gently clears their throat behind me.