Iconic

Our not so surprise guest star belongs to DC comics. If you don't know who Spider-Man belongs to then if I had a distinct lack of morals you'd be very easy to mislead. Unfortunately he belongs to Marvel. Who have more lawyers than I do. But at least I wouldn't have made House of M suck! Before we begin I would like to point out that this story is very much Pre the big tows major story arcs. Infinite Crisis hasn't happened yet, in fact this might work better in context in John Byrne's post crisis continuity, more personality wise than anything else. The other hasn't happened yet, nor has Avenges Disabled. So Peter isn't an Avenger, living in Stark Tower, capable of talking to insects and (here's the important part) known as Spider-man to the entire planet. He's still packing the mechanical web shooters and the spider signal belt light, which he had for years in case you don't read the comics or that far back. Enjoy.

My name is Peter Parker…and I've been Spider-Man since I was fifteen years old.

Many of you are doubtless wondering how I made it all the way through college. Well quick survey, how many people here married to a super model?

No keep them up, I want to make sure I count all those hands.

Not that I can see much right now. Iron beams collapsing on top of each other are inconsiderate beasts. Barely any room, doubt Reed Richards could even crawl through.

Or stretch. Whatever. Brains screwing up a little. Maybe we've got less air left than I thought. The glow from my belt light only shows more rubble over head. Not good.

Gwen coughs in my arms, and it pulls at my heart beneath the stupid spider emblem splashed across my costumed chest. It means so much to her right now, but it won't be worth a damn thing if I can't pick up the pace and dump it back up top again.

"Hey, stay with me, okay honey? We're going to get you out of here, alright?"

Her eyes open, like they have to be held open by little elves. With weak arms.

"Kay."

Barely heard that. Got to move. Now.

But there in lies the rub…we can't. Wall crawling might have gotten us up this far, but that meant leaving behind anywhere I could set her down. Meaning I can't loosen up both hands to move these things out of the way, and even if I could do it with just one hand (which I can't by the way) I'd bring the entire building down on her. More than it already has anyway.

The word I'm looking for is "Parker Luck". And also rhymes with "Ducking".

Note to self, never agree to follow J Jonah Jameson anywhere. Ever. I doubt why I even have a Spider Sense nowadays, I can already see the troubles coming before that little rolled up hedgehog feeling starts up at the back of my skull. And yet here we are.

I never thought I'd actually miss New York, and the situation probably wouldn't be better off there anyway, but at least I'd be on home ground. When Aunt May convinced me to take a chance to see the sights of the city of tomorrow, somehow I doubt she was talking about roughly ten floors worth of Metropolis architecture. At least I'll die knowing my corpse gets to fertilize the soil of one of the classiest cities on the planet. The place probably looks spectacular from the air, cathedral like spires mixed with art deco and Greek/Roman temples redone in glass and steel. Looked pretty nice from the train window. Or so Ben Urich told me. I wouldn't know, I was standing in middle class because my ticket wasn't part of the two for one deal ( that Jameson, what a saint!)

Surprisingly, the entire reason I'm here for this sky scraper to decide to dump itself on me might be because Jonah does in fact have a soul. Some award ceremony for an old friend, Perry White of Metropolis's own Daily Planet. They were cub reporters, covering the same story in Chicago way back when. They hated each others guts the moment they met so naturally they became the best of friends. At first glance you'd have no idea why; White's cool under pressure, tolerant, impartial, tips his waiter, and has no moustache. Then some freckled red head guy almost spills punch on his tux and as my ear drums almost burst all I can think is There it is. He's a publisher and he's got a loud voice. Go figure.

Turns out I wasn't just there because of my photojournalistic talents…or maybe I was. Kinda. Mr Redhead was revealed to be the Jimmy Olson…cub photog with up close shots of Doomsday and Braniac's skull ship Jimmy Olson. Trailed by married reporter couple Lois Lane and Clark Kent. She kept her last name. I'm assuming its not because there's anything wrong with the name Kent but a little alliteration seems to go a long way with this town. Like Lex Luthor. Go on, say it out loud.

So there they all were. On White's side of the table. Who's won an award for the umpteenth. And on Johan's, Ben Urich, who's actually won the same number of Pulitzers as Lane and Kent put together and me. Who's got a shot of a certain web head under my belt for every shot of a certain local Metropolis legend Olson's ever taken. Old friends being old friends, in their own way. Everything goes on okay for the next couple of minutes. We mingle. Well, I try. I grew up with an elderly couple in Queens. I actually studied in College. I can recall the exact number of wedgies I received in high school in my head. I split my time between juggling a job and a vigilante career and remembering my wedding anniversary. My best friend can light himself on fire and lives in a giant number four. Socializing isn't one of my better spider powers. I catch Kent over by the punch bowl and find he hasn't actually drunk that much. That makes the two of us just about the only completely sober people in the room. We talk. Nice guy, would have liked to have talked to him in high school, share a swirly or two. Then I got that sub atomic explosion from my spider sense.

Two floors down. Something big.

I'm about to make some excuse to Clark before he actually does my job for me; he goes to find the restroom.

"A little punch goes a long way, right? Excuse me Peter."

Weird, but it made my job a little easier. He's got the restroom so if I move fast enough I can get roof access and back in time to check up on things right? Wrong.

I'm halfway out of my clothes, mask and one web shooter on before the screaming starts. I sneak a glance. Kind of regret that now.

Otto Octavius is brawling his way through the room, trying to get those crazy arms of his around some kind of metallic thing. Trying to punch a hole through it's chest. I know Ock pretty well, we shared some laughs, he threatened to blow up the city, I shot some web in his eyes, good times, but I'd only ever heard of his shiny new dance partner. Metallo.

Practically unbreakable (albeit missing any adamantaium) metallic body inhabited by the brain of a small time con by the name of John Corben. Nice guy, given the death threats he was throwing at Ock. The good doctor had quite the radiation fetish back in the day, and he apparently hasn't buried the radioactive hatchet.

Get this; years ago a planet several light years away exploded, theoretically due to the unstable nature of it's core in it's death throws. Every inch of advanced technology and society gone in the fiery blink of an eye. Tragic, especially when you consider the effect it must have on the sole survivor. All we have left to remember this long dead planet by, along with said survivor, is irradiated fragments. The kind of fragment acting as Metallo's heart/power source. Kryptonite. Whether it was going to science or the black-market I'll probably never know seeing as Otto wasn't considerate enough to announce that part of his plan out loud, but he came all the way to Metropolis for it, and if I know him as well as I do he wasn't taking "No" for an answer. And Metallo clearly wasn't a fan of the "Give me your soul!" idea.

They tore their way through most of the building before going through the window. That was my cue. A blast of Jonah's "Menace!" gig ain't a kiss from MJ, but it does my heart good when I'm going in against not just one of my major psychos but someone else's. I actually got a couple of jokes out before things really went to hell.

Me showing up didn't do a lot for Metallo's sunny disposition.

"First an octopus, now a bug! I am not putting up with anymore New York trash!"

Bet he said that to his last girl friend. Ooooh, score one for Spidey humour!

Then he picked Ock up by the arm (one of the metallic ones, bottom right hand one as I recall) and threw him at me. Fun. For an encore, he proceeds to plough through the side of a near by building with all the grace and subtlety of Wolverine on a good day. And the central support beam as a matter of fact, brining all the buildings floors crashing down on its occupants. Score one for the Parker Luck.

I get to kick Ock in the head before diving in there (again, not encouragement from my darling wife, but the sound of "Accursed arachnid!" followed my generic death threat number one hundred and five is a real motivator when your not playing on your home field).

Good news, there were only two people in the building, a father burning some mid night oil and his daughter biding her time until he took her home or out to dinner or what ever normal people do. Bad news, the father was on the other side of the room getting his coat when the building really starting falling in. I swung in, snagged him with a webline and tugged him out of there just before half the ventilation system obliterated where he'd been standing. For all my enhanced speed an agility, I didn't have time to try the same thing for his daughter standing in the centre of the room.

I can barley remember back when MJ and I were going to have Little May. Still stings.

I head her father yelling her name at the top of his lunges; "Gwen!"

How am I not suppose to save her with a name like that?

I managed to swing-and-snag her out of the way before the ceiling collapsed, tugging my web line down with it, just as the floor gave way giving us a longer fall to the sub basement before the support beams prevented the rubble from crushing us, thus saving us, yet also trapping us by forming one hell of a mess over our only way out.

And here we are. I've managed to get a couple of feet before we hit this particular blockage. I've felt our air supply running out the whole way.

She coughs again. I think I'm going to collapse. While technically upright. Nice.

"Just hold on…"

This isn't fair. She's not even blonde, but just the thought…I'm as over it as I'll ever be, but it hurts because this is closer than I ever got on the bridge so long ago…and I still can't save her.

I can't save her.

But maybe someone else can.

This is his city right? He deals with this kind of stuff all the time, its like me dealing with a mugging or a jewel heist (although nobody does those anymore) but he can save that many more lives. Hell, this'll all be leaves in the driveway to him, I've seen pictures of what happened when he tried to take on the Hulk in New Mexico. Not even Thor came as close as he did. He's theoretically the most powerful person on the planet, supposedly. Despite my team up track record I've never seen him in action outside of live news feeds but he's the Man of Steel, right? Change the course of mighty rivers and so on.

Gwen coughs.

Hero time. Even if it's not me. Here's hoping Super-hearing actually exists.

"Hel.."

Throats dry. Get it together Parker. Swallow. Deep breath. Pray.

"Help me…"

Keep going, you can't do anything else, if you stop now you'll never start up again…

"Help her…Superman…"

I wait.

Nothing.

Gwen coughs. it's the weakest so far. I can't look her in the eye.

Mary Jane…

Then…Spider Sense…

There's a grinding sound, the rubble shifts. I've heard that sound before, every time I've ever seen Thor or Ben Grimm shift through a mess like this. Dust swells between the cracks and I place both arms around Gwen, holding her tight as it swirls around us, more for my sake than for hers. But she's not afraid. She's a Metropolis girl, born and bred. She knows what's coming. She's not afraid. The rubble is suddenly sporting a gaping hole, moonlight ramming me right in the face like smoke form one of Wolverine's cheap cigars. I should probably say something about that to him.

I begin the rest of the climb up before I see the hand in front of me. Then I see him. Hovering right in front of me in honest to god red and blue with red trunks and cape. He gives me a smile that's like watching the birth of a star.

"Need a lift?"

Oh God. Oh my God. Okay don't panic, don't throw up, say something witty…

"That'd be swell."

Smooth. He smiles again. I smile back and then stop because he can't see it. Or maybe he can. Does he really have X ray vision? Did he look through my mask? Did he see my face?

Oh my God…

I give him my hand, spending all the strenght I'm not using to hold onto Gwen to keep it from shaking. Oh my God…

I remember one time the FF supposedly teamed up with this guy in deep space. Johnny would not shut up. Oh my God…

"Superman!" Gwen yells, and I almost drop her as my heart cuts out.