Peter Parker’s identity has been erased. Yours was never known.

Tony Stark died, and you went to university for dance. Just with a massive bank account and knowledge of Stark tech. Spider-man continues to save the day, but no one really knows who’s beneath the mask.

It’s a late night contemp class at your studio, and mid routine you swear to gods you see a red blur out the corner of your eye hanging off a street lamp. You ignore it for a few minutes, continuing your routine with your duet partner. But you keep swearing you see someone outside. When you leave, half an hour later, spider man is sitting on a bench, mask pulled half up and eating a churro.

“Are you stalking me, spider-man?"