"Dream until your dreams come true."
Finney Foster does not dream, at least not the way that other people do. His dreams aren't really his own, it's as if he enters someone else's. They are lucid and restless and mostly from Spider-Man-who he hates...
Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
FINNEY'S ALWAYS WORKED AT SUB HAVEN. He's never changed jobs, and never plans to. The pay is fine and his boss doesn't treat him like shit—that's a problem for Fawn, she's never had a good boss. Larry isn't the greatest guy, sure, but at least he's given Finney a couple raises in the years he's worked there.
Sub Haven is basically a second home for Finney. The familiar smell of mixed meats, vegetables, and cheeses fill his nose and leave him feeling a sense of overwhelming relief. He grins and waves at Kat, a fellow teenager who generally has the same shifts as him. He pulls the apron over his jeans and hoodie. He knows he's going to feel sweaty in an hour or two, but hoodies are his thing.
In the first hour of his shift, he gets three shitty customers, ten that were so-so, and six that were actually nice. Those were the ones that have actually gone to Sub Haven before. Two of them were his favorites: Aaron Davis and Miles Morales, an uncle and nephew duo. Miles is a couple years younger than Finney. He's got great taste in music. They share multiple playlists on their spotify accounts. They order their subs and are gone too soon.
Hours fly by in a flurry of boredom. The hoodie has long since been taken off. Finney is zoned out, staring at the unopened door, until Kat flicks his forehead. He flinches back, pulled back into his body.
"What was that?" Finney hisses, rubbing his face melodramatically.
"Your shift is done," Kat reminds, pointing at the clock.
"Ah, right. See you later."
"Foster!" Larry yells from his office behind the counter. "Go take the trash to the dumpster on your way out."
Finney huffs. "Oh joy," he mutters under his breath, catching Kat's sympathetic look. He gives her a wave goodbye, before pulling the bags out of the three garbage bins. He holds the bags in one hand and slings his backpack over his shoulder.
Finney walks out of Sub Haven and takes a sharp turn into the alley where the garbage lives. He wrinkles his nose at the smell. He quickly throws all of the bags into the dumpster and is about to leave right then and there but—there's a backpack stuck to the side of said dumpster.
Finney stares at the sight in confusion, noticing that it is in fact webbed to the dumpster. He doesn't have to pull very hard to get the backpack off, the webs just about melting off. He examines the bag, eyes snagging on a bit of duct tape on the back of it.
Property of Peter Parker.
Did... did Spider-Man steal Peter Parker's backpack?
Finney stares at the bag in shock. Huh. Well, there's a reason why he didn't like Spider-Man—and not because his dreams involving him are incredibly tiring.
The teenager thinks for a moment. What should he do with the backpack? He doesn't have Peter's phone number—God, no—so he doesn't have any way to let the other boy know that he has found his probably stolen backpack. What's he supposed to do? Let someone else steal the bag? No, no. He's just going to take the backpack for safekeeping. Sure, it's going to be awkward when he gives him his bag back, but at least he'll get his bag back, right?
