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"LOSE THE MASK," The all-too-familiar voice in which belonged to none other than the infamous Nick Fury erupts from the entryway, echoing throughout the small underground area that he had temporarily morphed into his place of workings. Swiftly following behind him stumbles the teenage boy know by the name of Peter Parker, dressed up the suit used when he's portraying Spider-man. "Everyone here had already seen you without it. You don't want to be feigning anonymity and breathing through spandex for no good reason."
Upon the request of the one-eyed man, Peter hesitantly removes the mask portion of his suit, holding the spandex material gingerly within his hands. He then allows his movements to be bought to a halt briefly, his eyes scanning the foreign environment in which surrounds him. Many faces, both familiar and unknown, watch him as he simply stands there, and countless computers lie around the room, each serving a different purpose. It is only once Fury beckons him toward once more, he takes another step in, putting himself in full view to all those around.
Before the boy can so much as more than a few steps in a forward direction, he is caught off-guard when arms abruptly embrace him, the gesture being all-too sudden, yet possessing an odd sense of comfort. Eyes flickering upon the person who had yet to weaken their grip, he lets out a slight sigh of relief when he comes to identify the person as Analisa Morgan, Peter thankful that it was a familiar individual. Even if the woman before him may have been once fought upon an opposing side, after the events of recent, recent for at least him, they'd slowly begun to form a somewhat patently bond, and thus, he hugs her back; tightly.
Finally breaking apart the long-held embrace, Analisa pulls away from the young male, her darkly coloured eyes flickering over his face in a somewhat observant manner, as if she was searching for any sign of injury. Once her fears of harm being brought to the boy are eased, her facial expression swiftly morphed into one of a much different nature; a look which had been worn by his aunt upon countless occasion. And, with eyebrows furrows, she exclaims, "Why the fuck are you in Europe?"
"Parker's here on a school trip," Nick answers on behalf of the boy before he is even offered the chance to do so. With his seemingly ever-lasting monotonous way of speaking, the man looks back at Peter, commencing the string of introductions required, gesturing toward each person he speaks upon. "There we have Maria Hill. That is Dimitri. And this is Mr Beck."
"Mysterio?" With a sense of surprise spreading across his youthful features, Peter blurts out the name, having recognised the man from their fight many hours prior. Upon receiving only a confused response by the man he had attempted to aid in a fight, he makes a quick move to take back his prior words, brushing them off as nothing. "Doesn't matter. It's just what my friends call you."
