Meeting A New Person and Neighbor

"I--Yeah, sure," I gathered my composure as I held the door open for the lady.

She smiled widely at me, her pearly whites practically shining, "Thank you!" she thanked me and walked through the door before standing near the entrance and next to me, "Do you live here?" she asked curiously and I gave a somewhat restrained nod, unsure how to deal with such an outgoing and social person.

I mean, it's not like I'm anti-social or that I struggle in social situations...but social butterflies like this lady are just a bit above my social pay grade.

"Yeah, I do...You need any help with your bags? Me and my Aunt would be more than happy to help with them," I offered the basic courtesy to someone who seemed to be struggling with the amount of baggage she had.

The woman tucked a strand of auburn red hair behind her ear as her smile widened, "Well, ain't you a little gentleman?" she asked a rhetorical question before continuing, "But I couldn't possibly trouble you or your Aunt. You holding the door open is help enough, so don't worry about it okay?" she gave a thankful smile and I came to a conclusion: She seems like a...very nice person. Yet I had an odd sense of deja vu as I looked at her. It kind of unsettled me.

Oblivious to my internal feelings, the woman poked her head out of the apartment's entrance and gave a shout. A shout that helped all the pieces fall into place inside my head.

"MJ, hurry up and bring your stuff in!"

...Oh. That's why she looks familiar. She kinda looks like how MJ did in the comics...if she was a real person. Just older and with slight differences. No wonder I felt some kind of deja vu. I read the hell out of the Spider-Man comics in my previous life.

"Sorry about my daughter - the move has left her in a bit of sulky mood. I can take the door if you want?" the woman apologized for having me keep the door open and she was obviously giving me a chance to move out of the way for her to keep the door open...but who would I be to give up a chance to meet THE Mary Jane Watson? An idiot, is what I'd call that type of person.

Shaking my head, I gave my reply with a smile, "No, I'd like to help welcome you to the apartment. It's not the best place available but the people who live here look out for each other and help when it's needed. This should be a pretty good show of that, right?" my smile took on a cheeky appearance and the woman chuckled lightly.

"A budding silver-tongued devil, I see?" she teased and I just smiled back her before shrugging, "Well, I'm grateful for the help...?" she paused, obviously waiting for a name.

"Alex Parker, it's nice to meet you," I smilingly answered before carrying onto my own question, "What floor are you moving onto?"

"Alex Parker..." she closed her eyes, seeming to commit the name to memory, "...Got it! It's nice to meet you, Alex. I'm Madeline Watson and my daughter is called Mary Jane, though please, call her MJ - it's all she'll reply to nowadays," she said with a somewhat fed-up tone before she rolled her eyes, "Here she is. MJ, hurry up and get inside!" Madeline replied before shouting for her daughter to hurry up.

Turning, I saw the famous MJ.

Her red hair was nearly a shade brighter than her others and her green eyes were a bit lighter as well. Is age the cause? Or just a general difference between the two of them?

Shaking off the useless thoughts, I regarded the young MJ. Her mom wasn't wrong - she was sulking. Pouting, to be precise. She seemed to be one or two years older than me and was closer to my height than most people my age. The perks of puberty and growth spurts, I guess. Currently she was dragging a suitcase behind her like it weighed a tonne and her posture was slumped like the backpack she was wearing was designed to weigh her down.

A classic sulky teen.

She trudged up the steps to the entrance and seemed too involved in her own head to even notice my presence. Not until her mom coughed and broke the young redhead out of her internal angst.

She looked over at me and just...stared. Then she blushed, which set off a few alarm bells in my head - I mean, I know I'm good-looking by having a minor blush while looking at me? Goddamn that feels uncomfortable. I mean, I was only 17 when I died in my last life but still...I don't want young teens blushing at the sight of me, man. Is this how the members of BTS felt all the time? Poor fuckers, man.

Spirits uplifted by a 'mystical' force, the redhead straightened her back and gave a small wave alongside a small smile as she tried to ignore her mom's not-so restrained chuckling and did a not-so good job if the blush that was slowly matching her hair's color was anything to go by.

"Hi, I'm Mary Jane Watson," she introduced herself with a somewhat dreamy look in her eyes and I had to restrain a sigh as I brought my hand up to the back of my head where I scratched it uncomfortably.

Knowing I should at least smile in reply so as to not look rude or anything, I did so as I replied, "Alex Parker. It's nice to meet you, MJ--Your mom said I could call you that. Is that okay?" I made sure to not rudely assume anything but I already knew the answer to my question. I just asked it to be sure, I guess, and in the off-chance I was wrong.

...I wasn't wrong, however.

"Yeah, that's fine!" she cheerfully replied, "So...you live here, Alex?" she asked and I nodded before she carried on, "Do you go to the middle school near here as well?" she said, sounding hopeful.

"...Yeah, I do. So does my cousin, Pete," I kept up the small talk with simple answers and we all began to walk toward the elevator. Once inside, Madeline pressed the button for the fourth floor and I raised my eyebrows in surprise before I remarked, "Would you imagine that? That's the same floor as me," I smiled and Madeline smiled down at me while MJ looked positively thrilled.

...I guess she truly is that age, huh? Girls usually do start liking boys quicker than boys start liking girls. Doesn't mean I can reciprocate anything like that to people around my age - I'm not in the business of liking kids, unlike some sick individuals.

Anyway, we all continued to talk as the old elevator rose through the floors at a painfully slow pace. Even as we got to the floor, I help relieve Madeline of some of the lighter bags - I would've taken the heavier ones but she said they'd be too heavy for me as I'm a kid or whatever. I mean, normally she'd be right because how could she know she was standing next to a superhuman 11-year-old?

Whatever, I did what she needed me to do and I saw that the Watson's apartment was literally opposite mine and my families. I guess this is how MJ and Pete would've met in this Alternate Universe. Because while this was certainly the MCU, it was more like an alternate version of the MCU - there were small differences that would lead to big differences. I mean, a big difference being that I read in a book about a Mutant trying to assassinate Nixon. Which meant Mutants were a big thing in this world as well as the rest of the MCU characters.

It'd maybe even be better to call this whole place more...comic book-y. People were usually good looking and those who were beautiful usually were shockingly so.

At least it'd be a pretty decent indicator on whether someone is a hero/villain/person of interest. Seeing as most of those are beautiful, handsome or some other variation of the word 'good-looking'.

Anyway, as I was helping them get their stuff into the apartment, Aunt May poked her head out the door and another round of introductions ensued. Even Pete was dragged out of his room to meet our new neighbors. Madeline seemed to be overjoyed that she had such lovely neighbors (her words, not mine) and her and May hit it off like a house on fire.

MJ and Pete, however...Jesus, I really screwed the pooch on this one.

Pete showed no interest. None. Zero. Zilch. Nada. He just said 'Hi', looked utterly terrified by social situations and then his anxiety got the best of him and he wondered back inside. Now, if this was the normal scenario, MJ being the social butterfly she was, she would've tried more to make Pete feel comfortable or she would've actually shown interest in him because despite being a bit short and skinny, he was good-looking enough. He was more 'cute' than 'handsome' but it was still better than most.

Except because MJ was so focused on me...she just kinda ignored Pete. Neither of them was to blame for what happened - they just passed each other and instead of connecting, they carried on going.

...Damn, does this make me as bad as Mephisto? Christ, I hope not.

Maybe in this universe it just wasn't meant to be. I mean, maybe Gwen Stacy is out there waiting to sweep Pete off his feet? Eh, whatever. I'm not gonna be responsible for his love life any which way anyway.

. . .

POV Change - ??? (3rd Person)

Looking over the wreckage of the car, a detective looked to a nearby officer, "You're saying the car's wheels just popped off and it stopped...and now it looks like a boulder squashed the front half of the car?" he asked.

The officer he asked gave him an unsure look, "I know how odd it sounds, George, but there are witnesses that saw it happen," he gave a shrug before kneeling down next to the squashed front half of the car, "...Though what ever did this--none of us have a clue on what did it. It just...happened. One minute the car was going 70/80 MPH and the next it was stopped by something."

"Then how are the robbers still alive, Tom? Suddenly stopping at that sort of speed'll kill you outright," the detective asked, his disbelief apparent by his tone and expression.

"That's where it gets weird - they say their seatbelts, which they weren't wearing, were suddenly clicked in. They also all said they found themselves bracing for impact without them actually doing anything," the officer brought out his notepad, flicking it open before handing it to the detective, "It's all written down in there, George. Just look through it."

George took the notepad and skimmed through it before letting out a sigh, "Either some sort of miracle happened and they were saved by some act of God...or they're bullshitting us something fierce. You searched through the car for any sorts of explosives? Hidden buttons or fittings?"

"You think an explosion did this?" the officer asked incredulously and the detective waved his hand.

"No. I'm just grasping for straws, Tom," he admitted before flicking the notepad shut and handing it back to the officer as he looked over at him, "So, did you?" he asked again.

"...We looked through what we could, George. We even had the forensics squad down here looking for prints," he sighed before shaking his head, "We found nothing. The whole car's been cleaned out."

The detective looked stumped for a second before he bent down next to the car and looked at the ground around the front half of the car, "It looks like it was put under a goddamn hydraulic press...what the hell happened to do this?" he asked himself before he stood back up straight, "You need to walk me through everything that happened. Maybe we'll get a clue that way," he threw out his suggestion but it was clear to see that he was completely and utterly stumped. "Whatever caused this...whether a freak accident or some sort of tech, we need to figure it out quickly," the detective said, knowing that whatever had caused this could possibly be used against anyone.

It happened suddenly, there's no obvious trap or equipment set-up that's needed for this to work...the detective knew that if this was some sort of technology, it could be used against the NYPD.

...And if it wasn't technology, the detective hated to think about what it could possibly be.

"Detective Stacy! We've got some people over here who wanna speak to you and Officer Thomas Clark," George, hearing his name called, turned around and saw another detective standing in front of an unassuming man who had brown hair and an easy smile on his average face that spoke of one thing - 'Unperturbed'.

It was like the situation of this car mysterious being smashed was nothing unusual in front of this man.

George took a few steps toward the other detective and the mysterious man in the neat black suit. When in front of them, he put out a hand at the man who he guessed had something to do with the government from how he was dressed, "Detective George Stacy. What can I do for you, Mr...?"

"Coulson," the man said, his smile unchanging as his perfectly average voice was heard by the detective, "I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. We'll be taking over this investigation, I'm afraid. Before that, however, I need you both to fill me in on the details," he said with the same smile and just as George looked like he was about to say a counterargument, Coulson shut him down, "The investigation is ours, Detective Stacy. Please don't make a scene."

And with that, George had to bite his tongue and he began to speak through what he knew while Officer Thomas provided his notepad to Coulson who passed it off to a nearby agent who was wearing an identical black suit to him.