The Wrong Number They Craved

I am currently running for my life through the streets of Manhattan.

No, I'm not being chased or anything, I'm late to my internship.

I hate it when people assume that the things they think would be normal for literally everyone else are always different for the amazing Spider-Man. It's pathetic.

I love my alter ego, don't get me wrong! However, sometimes I wish it didn't rule how people think of me. Sometimes I just want to be Peter, and Peter has to get his late ass to work.

I keep weaving my way through the packed streets of New York. As I accidentally bump into continuous people, I mumble small apologies under my breath, but they go unanswered. I start to slow down as I reach the half-mile point from the tower.

I take a deep breath of air, sometimes I wish I had normal stamina, only because of how much more appreciative you are of breathing once it's gone. I don't get that much anymore.

I take in my surroundings as I walk on the sidewalk, listening to Disney's greatest hits, I look at the trees that are the only source of nature I've ever known. The trees of New York keep the city's residents from complete insanity, I know this because of a paper I did in 3rd grade, I won't bore you with the details but that paper did contribute to me skipping a grade.

I keep walking and arrive at the tower at the end of "I Just Can't Wait to Be King" from The Lion King. The automatic doors open as I take out my badge from my bag and hold it up to the scanner, it flicks green as usual, while stating my name and 'grade' in the company. I then walk up to the familiar security guard.

"Hey Mike!" I say peppily holding out my driver's license for him to check, he rolls his eyes, I mean the sass I get out of Mike is unparalleled sometimes!

"Hi Peter," he responds in a bored tone, me and mike are besties, I don't know if he knows that yet, but I digress.

"Just get to work, your already" he paused to check his watch "three minutes late."

"KK bye mike" I yelled back as I continued walking from the brightly lit lobby to the elevator nook, smiling and waving at familiar faces, and clicked the button. not even ten seconds later one of the thirty elevators opened and I stepped in.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y. level 21 please," I asked the A.I. that ruled the building.

You may be wondering from earlier what I meant by 'grade', basically the whole building is separated into grades one-eight, grade one is measly tourists groups that get a small tour of the first three floors.

grade two is the custodians and maids with all the cleaning supplies and spare parts that are in storage for the scientists, they get the third to eleventh floor.

the third grade is the lowest interns, they fetch coffee and are mostly just highschoolers looking for collage credit and their 'domain' is thirteenth to twentieth floors.

The fourth, which is my grade, are collage interns looking to get a job here after they graduate, they occasionally get coffee but mostly just do upper interns work or the scient for them so they can take the credit. we get twenty-one to thirty-seven

five are the people in charge of the corporate side of Stark Industries, they do the graphs, handle money, the stocks, sales, you name it they probably do it, they hardly ever get credit but you cant run a business without them. they get thirty-seven to fifty-six.

six are the actual engineers and scientists who make the designs (or steal our work and claim it) they are a bunch of bull and no one but Mr. Stark take them seriously, they get fifty-six to seventy-six