The rest of the week passed in a blur, and before they knew it, it was Saturday. After breakfast, Peter headed out for his "Stark Internship". Jack went to his room and opened up the laptop May had given him. He'd finished his homework over the week (after all, he hardly ever slept, so he had plenty of time) and now he planned to look for any hunts in the area. He knew it was unlikely he would find any, but he desperately needed that sense of familiarity.

Three hours later, and he had found none of that. What he had found was a network of sex traffickers and rapists, which is basically the same as finding a nest of monsters.

Searching through his dresser, he found a couple of angel blades and a knife, all three of which he had managed to smuggle in. After a moment of indecision, he grabbed an angel blade and the knife, sliding them into his pocket for lack of other sheath.

Then he was gone.

Deciding it would be a better idea if he remained anonymous, he pulled his hood on and lowered his head to an angle that would make his face less visible. He was already certain of where their headquarters was, after snooping in multiple online chat rooms and even going so far as to interact with a few members.

It seemed they were expecting him.

Spider-Man would not usually have followed him, but he recognized the jacket immediately. The way that Jack had appeared out of nowhere, and the way he held himself, as if anticipating a fight, just screamed "trouble".

When the other boy stopped, Peter took the opportunity to flip down beside him. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on the other's shoulder. When Jack gave no reaction, he spoke.

"What are you doing?"

"The world needs to be rid of them," he said, in a rather monotonous voice that made Peter flinch.

"Jack?"

He shuddered. "I can't stop. I have to kill them. And they deserve it-- that building is full of sex traffickers and rapists, yet you expect me to allow them to live?"

Peter stood still. Then, quietly, "Alright."

10:00 p.m.

A sound came from the hall. Footsteps. Peter was awoken with the sense that something bad was going to happen. He ran into the hallway, and, seeing a light from the bathroom, headed there.

Jack stood before the mirror, a knife in his hand, stabbing his chest, over, and over, but there was never any blood. Growling in frustration, he traded it out for a different knife, he moved to try again.

Sensing that, for whatever reason, this knife would do damage, Peter dashed through the door and snatched the knife out of his hand.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

The golden-eyed boy looked at him. "I'm a monster," he said quietly, "I killed them."

"A monster wouldn't care if they killed someone."

Jack looked up at him. He was silent for a moment. Then he asked, "What can make a killer be considered a hero?"

Peter was surprised by the question. "Well, I guess if they had good intentions when killing them, like if they saved someone by doing it. Or if they made the decision to stop killing and helped people instead."

Jack looked at him with something similar to respect, then picked up his weapons and headed to his room. Peter followed.

"Well, I guess you know I'm Spider-Man."

Jack smiled slightly. "And I suppose you know some things about me, too."

"Only that you can apparently teleport, you have experience killing people, and that knife doesn't hurt you but the other one does."

"The good thing is that I'm pretty sure I have the only weapons of that material in this world."

"This is so weird."

"Look, it's late, you should go back to sleep."

He sighed. "Okay, but I'm taking your weapons."

Jack's easy smile vanished. "Why?"

"So you don't kill yourself while I'm asleep."

Relaxing just a little, he handed them over. "Don't lose them."

"I'll be careful," Peter said, standing up. He left the room smiling.

Jack settled in to read.