The rooftop was still painted in the bruised, orange hues of dusk when Kyle made his landing.
He hit the gravel with a muted, metallic thud, crouching low into the iconic Spider-Man pose to absorb the impact—mostly because it looked impressive, but partly because his knees were currently screaming at him.
Viktor, who had been sitting huddled against a rusted HVAC-like unit, scrambled to stand up as the red-and-blue figure stalked toward him.
His lanky frame wobbled, the sheer exhaustion and terror of being snatched mid-air by a winged maniac finally catching up to his leg muscles.
Before Viktor could keel over, Kyle closed the distance in a blur, catching the man under his arms and propping him upright.
"Thank you," Viktor gasped, his voice thin, raspy, and thoroughly rattled. "I… I don't even know how to properly express the gratitude I have for you."
"Nah, don't worry about it," Kyle replied, lowering his voice into a slightly raspy, muffled pitch behind the mask to hide his usual tone. "I didn't do it for a thank-you note. It's just what has to happen when absolute assholes decide to fly around causing trouble."
Viktor let out a dry, wheezing laugh. He adjusted his cane with a trembling hand and glanced toward the skyline. "What… what happened to Stanwick? The man in the flying suit?"
"Oh, him?" Kyle dusted off his chest with nonchalant flair. "Beat him to a pulp, wrapped him up like an oversized Thanksgiving turkey, and left him dangling upside down from a crane. He'll live. Might need a new dentist, though."
Viktor nodded slowly, processing the foreign words.
He squinted at the masked hero, tilting his head. "You… you kind of seem familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?"
Kyle froze for a microsecond. "Of course you know me."
Viktor was visibly taken aback. "I—I do?"
"Well, yeah," Kyle said, puffing out his chest and throwing peace signs with both hands. "I'm your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man! Who doesn't feel a warm, fuzzy sense of familiarity with a great neighbor?"
For three agonizing seconds, Viktor stared blankly at the masked face.
Then, his shoulders began to shake.
A small snort escaped his nose, followed by a light chuckle, which quickly snowballed into a full-blown, breathy laugh.
It was an unfiltered, genuine sound—the kind born from absolute absurd contrast.
Here he was, alive, standing on a roof, talking to a guy in a skin-tight suit delivering terrible dad jokes.
Kyle awkwardly scratched the back of his fabric-covered head.
Was the line really that funny? Or did Stanwick drop him on his head earlier?
Calming down, Viktor wiped a stray tear from his eye. "Thank you for that," he murmured softly. "Truly. I cannot remember the last time I laughed like that."
"Sure, sure. Gold star for comedy," Kyle said, turning his back and crouching down. "Now, hop on. Time to get you back on the road."
Viktor looked at the teenager's back with extreme skepticism. "Excuse me?"
"Piggyback style, my friend. Let's go."
Reluctantly, Viktor wrapped his thin arms around Spider-Man's neck, hooking his legs around his waist and clinging on for dear life.
"Ready?" Kyle asked, a mischievous grin hidden behind the mask.
"Definitely not," Viktor replied honestly.
"Good!" Kyle yelled, and plunged headfirst off the edge of the roof.
A blood-curdling, high-pitched scream tore from Viktor's throat as the wind whipped his hair back.
He slammed his eyes shut, squeezing Kyle's neck so hard he was practically cutting off the vigilante's airway as they plummeted toward the street, only to be yanked skyward again by an elastic web-line.
**********
After dropping a thoroughly traumatized Viktor near the safe perimeter of the Piltover Academy—taking a heavy detour to avoid the courtyard that was currently swarming with Enforcers, smoke, and debris—Kyle melted into the shadows.
He slipped through the alleyways, sneaking into the lavish VIP wing reserved for the city's highest nobility.
Swiping open the door to an unoccupied luxury washroom, he retrieved his hidden satchel.
He hastily threw his tailored human clothes directly over his suit.
It was tight, uncomfortable, and definitely made his shoulders look oddly bulky, but it would have to do.
Walking out of the facility with his hands casually stuffed into his pockets, Kyle strolled toward the Enforcer blockade at the exit.
The moment the armed officers spotted him, their aggressive postures dissolved.
"Young Master Kiramman!" the lead Enforcer blurted out, recognizing the youngest son of the prestigious house. "Thank goodness you're safe. Right this way, sir."
They escorted him like royalty to the secured quadrant where the panicked elites had been gathered.
Kyle barely had time to adjust his collar before he spotted a familiar, mop-haired Zaunite looking lost near a medical tent.
"Viktor!" Kyle yelled, sprinting over and throwing his arms around his friend in a heavy, bone-crushing hug.
"Ugh—hey, Kyle," Viktor groaned, his already battered body wincing at the impact. "Good to... see you too."
"Dude, what happened to you?!" Kyle demanded, stepping back and pulling off a masterclass in feigned panic. "I tried to find you, but then that terrifying mechanical vulture guy swooped in and dragged you away! Then Spider-Man jumped out of nowhere and went after you guys! Are you okay? Are you broken? Do you need a medic?"
Viktor put his hands on Kyle's shoulders, chuckling softly at the frantic barrage. "Kyle, breathe. I am fine. Truly. I was… very close to becoming a very thin stain on the pavement, but Spider-Man saved me."
Kyle let out a dramatic, soul-cleansing sigh. "Thank God."
"Viktor!"
A booming, panicked voice shattered the brief moment of quiet.
Viktor winced.
Oh no.
Jayce Talis, clad in his sharp Councilor attire, came plowing through the crowd of nobles like an armadillo through brush.
Before Viktor could even raise a hand to speak, Jayce grabbed him and engulfed him in a massive, overwhelming bear-hug.
"Ugh, Jayce—ribs—" Viktor wheezed out.
Kyle grimaced from the side, silently praying for the structural integrity of Viktor's skeleton.
Jayce finally let go, turning his wide, terrified eyes onto Kyle.
Oh no, Kyle thought.
Oh yes, Viktor thought, taking a subtle step back with a sly smirk.
In a fraction of a second, Jayce threw his thick arms around Kyle, squeezing the teenager with the full power of a man who spent his weekends hammering Hextech metal.
Because of the spider-bite, Kyle's physical durability was immense, so the pressure itself wasn't the problem.
The problem was that Kyle's chest had taken a full-force acoustic blast from Stanwick's sonic tech twenty minutes ago.
His ribs felt like a set of cracked xylophone keys.
Kyle stared wide-eyed over Jayce's shoulder, silently screaming into the sky as his organs vibrated.
Note to self: ban bear hugs from Piltover.
When the hugging marathon finally subsided, the interrogation began.
*********
"So let me get this straight," Jayce said five minutes later, rubbing his temples in utter exhaustion. "It was Stanwick. In some sort of flying bird suit. He attacked the Academy, took Viktor, and then the Spider vigilante fought him off and saved everyone?"
Kyle and Viktor nodded in perfect sync.
Jayce released a long, raspy huff. "What in the hell is happening to this city?" he cursed, shaking his head. He looked at the two young men, waving a hand tiredly. "Look, both of you need to go home. Get some rest. Maybe even get a medical check up. I'll handle the Enforcer reports."
"Kyle!"
A sharp, familiar voice cut through the background noise of the crowd.
All three men turned their heads toward the source.
Oh no, Jayce, Viktor, and Kyle thought in absolute unison.
Caitlyn Kiramman was marching toward them, her uniform slightly ruffled, looking like a storm cloud with boots.
Without a word, she threw her arms around her younger brother, pulling him into yet another brutal embrace.
Should I just enter a professional hugging competition at this point? Kyle thought sarcastically, patting his sister's back.
Caitlyn broke the hug and immediately began scanning him from head to toe, her sharp blue eyes looking for blood, bruises, or broken bones. "Are you alright? Did you... did you get hurt?"
"I'm fine, Cait. Unharmed, as you can see," Kyle lied smoothly.
Caitlyn's face softened in relief. "Good."
Then, with blinding speed, her fingers shot out, snatching Kyle's right earlobe and twisting it a crisp ninety degrees.
"Ow! Ow, ow, Cait!" Kyle yelped, bending sideways to relieve the tension.
"What were you even doing here huh?!" she began to berate him, raising her voice. "Every single time there is a problem in this city, you are right in the center of it! Why can you never stay in one safe place? Do you have a magnet for disaster attached to your spine?!"
Seeing the terrifying spectacle of the older Kiramman sibling asserting dominance, Viktor and Jayce quietly took two synchronized steps backward, turned around, and slunk away into the crowd without making a single sound, completely abandoning Kyle to his fate.
**********
By the time Caitlyn was finished lecturing him, Kyle looked as though his spirit had left his mortal shell and flown off into the sunset.
She hailed an official family carriage and practically shoved him inside. "Go home. I have to stay here and coordinate with the Enforcers, but I expect you to be in bed."
"Yes, ma'am," Kyle mumbled, looking like a victim of a verbal hurricane.
Caitlyn had tried to force him to see a doctor first, but Kyle had dodged that bullet with expert maneuvers.
Letting a doctor strip off his shirt would mean exposing his suit beneath his clothes, not to mention revealing the fact that his "uninjured" body was covered in massive, deep purple contusions from his fight with Stanwick.
As the carriage began to roll over the cobbled streets, Kyle collapsed back into the leather seats, letting out a groan that sounded like a dying accordion.
Every muscle in his back was throbbing.
His suit was itching, his ears were still burning, and his chest felt like it had been hit by a runaway freighter.
When the carriage finally pulled up to the grand Kiramman Estate, Kyle braced himself for round two.
The moment he walked through the heavy mahogany doors, he was instantly ambushed.
His mother caught him in a powerful embrace, followed closely by his father, who practically smothered him with fatherly concern.
"Kyle, my boy! Are you hurt? What happened out there?"
"We heard the news about the Academy being attacked! Are you alright?"
Another round of relentless questioning commenced.
Kyle did his absolute best to smile, nod, and deliver his rehearsed cover story through gritted teeth.
Having a loving, caring family was a blessing, but right now, it was actively threatening his survival.
Noticing how pale he looked and how heavily he was leaning against the wall, his father finally took pity on him and decided to let him be while handling his mother.
Kyle thanked his father, bid goodbye to both and went towards his room.
And yes, he was going to skip dinner tonight.
Kyle dragged his aching body up the grand staircase and slipped into his bedroom, locking the door behind him.
He kicked off his shoes, peeled away his human clothes, and carefully stripped off the Spider-Man suit, wincing as the fabric unglued itself from his bruised skin.
A few minutes later, a discreet knock sounded at his door as a servant delivered three heavy linen bags filled with crushed ice.
"Thank you," Kyle said, closing the door and carrying the bags into his private bathroom.
He dumped the ice into the massive porcelain bathtub, turned on the cold tap, and watched the water rise.
Without hesitation, he stepped in and lowered himself into the freezing bath.
A sharp, agonizing gasp escaped his throat as the icy water hit his bruised torso, but within seconds, a blissful, numbing relief swept over his battered muscles.
Kyle leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, closed his eyes, and let out a long, heavy groan.
Within two minutes, the youngest Kiramman was fast asleep in a bath full of floating ice cubes, dreaming of a world where nobody was allowed to hug him again.