Sorry for the delay! Here's another chapter. Hope you like it!
PETER PARKER'S APARTMENT, Sunday, 10:07 AM:
Beep! Beep-Beep! Beep!
Peter rolled over and snagged his phone and answered it without looking. "Hello," he said, his voice full of sleep.
"Hi, Peter, it's me."
"Aunt May?" he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"Sorry, dear. Did I wake you up?"
He glanced at his watch. "Uh, no. No, I'm up."
She laughed. "Okay, then. I'm just calling to see if you're bringing Mary Jane with you to dinner tonight?"
Agh. Peter screwed up his face and fell back into the mattress. "Oh, um, she's not gonna be able to make it."
A pause. "That's too bad."
"Yeah." He sighed and stared up at his ceiling. "So, I'll see you tonight, May. Party of two."
"Sounds good, Peter. Would you mind picking up some butter on the way over here?"
"Sure, sure," he replied absently.
"Okay, see you soon."
"See ya." He hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed beside him.
God, he was tired. He had been out late last night chasing down leads and trying to figure out more about this mysterious killer. What he had come up with wasnada. Nothing. After thinking on it, though, he definitely believed Jean. The killings were connected - he just had to find out how. He planned on going back out that night to find more.
Now, though, he needed to take care of some Peter Parker things. Like maybe putting some food in his fridge.
The bell on the door jingled as he walked into the bodega on the corner. Crowded shelves filled the space, and Latin music was playing softly over the speakers.
"Hey, Francisco," Peter waved as he walked past the counter.
"Parker!" Francisco smiled. He was the owner, along with his wife Camila, and usually worked the counter. "Good to see you, man. Feels like it's been a while."
"My fridge is saying the same thing."
"Get you some food then. You want a sandwich or somethin'? The usual?"
"Nah, I'm -" Peter paused. "Well, actually, sure. Why not."
Francisco laughed. "Now you're talkin'. Number three, right?"
He smiled. "That's the one. But no mayo." He gestured to the shelves and picked up a basket from the stack. "I'll grab it when I check out."
"You got it , man." Francisco turned and nodded at another worker who had just walked in from the back. " Numero tres, Rico ."
Peter looked over at a stack of newspapers - the Daily Bugle among them. "RATS ATTACK TIMES SQUARE - SPIDER-MAN COLLUDES WITH NEW VILLAIN!" screamed the headline.
"At least they didn't call me Rat-Man," he muttered under his breath.
He wandered around and grabbed what he needed, nodding his head to the music. Bread, eggs, peanut butter, regular butter - what else? Oh, right. He was reaching into the fridge for some orange juice when his spider-sense buzzed in his head. He looked at the carton in his hand. What, bad OJ?
He heard the bell on the door jingle, and a commanding voice filled the place a second later. "Hands up everyone! 'Less you wanna get shot!"
Okay, bad OJ and an armed robbery.
Peter hid behind the nearest shelf and peaked out. A tall man wearing a hoodie was standing by the counter, a gun fixed at Francisco.
"What - what the fuck, man!" Francisco shouted back.
I gotta sneak out the back and change into the suit, quick! Peter turned and placed his basket on the floor before sneaking towards the back as fast as he could without attracting attention.
The man pointed the gun at Rico, and then back at Francisco. "I said hands up! And open the register!"
"Well, I can't do both! Pinche pendejo! "
"Move! I'm warnin' you - I'll shoot! Now gimme the money!"
Peter burst back into the store as Spider-Man. "Didn't your mom ever teach you to say 'please'? And to not point guns at people?" The robber turned in shock and Peter webbed the gun, pulling it away just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet passed harmlessly through the ceiling, and the gun flew across the shop and skittered to the floor.
Francisco looked just as shocked for a moment, and then raised up his arms and pumped his fists. "Hell yeah! Get it, Spider-Man!"
"Ah… Shit!" the man tripped over his feet to back up, then turned and ran for the door.
Peter leapt forwards, knocked the guy in the back, and pinned him to the ground with his foot before webbing his hands to the floor. "Obviously your mom didn't teach you 'excuse me' either." He stepped back as the would-be thief struggled against the webbing.
" Joder!" Rico's eyes were wide as he looked between Spider-Man and the man now desperately trying to pull his hands from the floor.
"Gotta run, fellas. Call the police on this fool for me, would you?" Peter gave a mock solute, shot a web through the door, and pulled himself through.
He smiled as he hurriedly pulled his street clothes back on in the alley behind the store. That felt good. He stuffed his mask in his pocket, then crept back in to get his groceries. Armed robber on the floor or no, he still needed food.
Peter was sitting on top of a building, his legs dangling over the side and his mask pulled up enough to eat his sandwich, when he got a call from DeWolff.
He answered, his mouth full. "Spidey here. What's up, Detective?"
"Just calling to update you. Detective Monty and I have gotten full control of the case, and we're pushing the serial killer angle."
He swallowed. "Monty came around?"
"Well, he knows it's best to follow my lead," she replied wryly. "But we also got results back from the lab an hour ago. Matching fabric threads were found at the first and second crime scenes, and footprints from the same boots were found in the first and third crime scenes. That gives us enough evidence to officially look into these cases as connected killings."
"Well, that's something."
"It also gives us a glimpse into the killer, and no matter how small it might be, these things add up."
"What do you mean?" asked Peter.
"Well, the threads tell us he was wearing jeans."
He took another bite of his sandwich. "Ah. Illuminating."
Jean huffed in frustration, and continued, "The footprints might be more useful. Putting partials together, it's measured at size twelve, with what looks like a boot tread - like a combat boot. Analyzing the stride, we can guess his height at somewhere between 5'10" and 6'5"."
Peter raised his eyebrows. All from some footprints? "Wow. Do you guys ever sleep over there?"
"No."
He quirked a smile. "Well, okay. So he's a big guy. We can work with that."
Jean gave a noise of affirmation. "It's a start. Did you find anything useful last night?"
Peter felt guilty when he replied, "No. Nothing. None of my usual sources have heard anything about these killings. But I'm going back out again. I have a few ideas on where to ask questions."
"Okay, well, let me know what you find. Even if it's nothing."
"Will do, Wolfy." He paused, then added, "How are you doing, by the way? You seem tense about this case… more than usual, anyway."
"I'm fine," she replied shortly, sounding not fine at all. "We just need to take care of this before more people die."
"Right," Peter responded slowly. "Of course. Well, if you ever need a pick me up, I know a lot of wolf related jokes!" He smiled. "Like, what do you call a lost wolf? A where-wolf! Get it?"
He heard DeWolff give a long-suffering sigh before she ended call the call without comment.
"Wolfy?" He shrugged and took another bite of his delicious sandwich. "Ah, she loves it."
QUEENS, Sunday, 5:50 PM:
Peter swung between buildings on his way to Aunt May's house, his mind and his body going a mile a minute. He considered everything going on.
So Mysterio attacks Times Square hoping to figure out my identity, and then disappears, along with everything he brought with him. How did he do that? Maybe it is magic.
He ran along one wall and jumped off the other side.
But then, that woman… why didn't he just use a real person? I mean, I'm glad he didn't, but there were plenty of people around to choose from.
The buildings and houses began to spread out as he got closer to May's. Thwip!
Here's something: surely using magic he would be able to be more precise than to have her actions on a loop. Also, I've seen magic before, and this just doesn't feel right.
Peter jumped from one rooftop to another, then jumped down in between them and changed into his street clothes. I wonder when he'll show up again.
He walked out onto the street, the trees casting shadows over him. The sun was setting on the horizon.
Then there's the killings. Six dead already. I'm almost hoping these murders are connected to the crime families in some way. Because if not, that means this guy is even more dangerous. I'll figure that out tonight, though.
He jumped over the fence and into May's yard, his spirits lifting as he saw the familiar house. Just being here makes me feel better. It always felt like his problems weighed less when he was back here. He pushed aside his thoughts and walked through the door.
"Aunt May!" he called out. "I'm here!" He dropped his bag by the front hall table and strode further into the house.
He heard a voice from the kitchen. "In here, Peter!"
Peter entered the bright room to see May chopping vegetables, an apron tied around her waist. She put down the knife, wiped her hands off on the apron, and held her arms out for a hug. Peter was happy to comply.
They hugged tight, and then May stepped back to look at him. "Why do I feel like you're getting skinnier?" She frowned. "Have you been eating enough?"
Peter laughed. "Yes, May. I just grabbed some more groceries this morning, actually."
"That's good."
He looked around and clapped his hands once. "Now, how can I help?"
She picked up the knife again and went back to chopping. "We both know you're better help out of the kitchen than in, dear," she chuckled. "I'm almost done here, really. Just have to put these veggies in the oven with the chicken." She looked over at him. "You could make a salad, I suppose. That's easy. Do you want a salad?"
He smiled. "Sure. Sounds like something I can handle."
As they worked next to each other, May questioned him about what he had been up to.
"I saw your name in the paper today. You're taking pictures again?" She chopped a potato into pieces.
"Oh, uh," He pulled out a bowl. "Just a few. It's fun - and as a plus I get a little extra money."
"Oh, yeah. Did you figure out what to do about those school supplies?" she asked while cutting an onion in half.
Peter shrugged. "I just have to pay for them. It's annoying, but I won't be able to teach any classes soon if we don't have them, so what can I do?"
She diced the onion into smaller pieces, and pushed some over to him for the salad. "It just seems ridiculous. You should ask them for a refund."
He shook his head, thinking of Julie in Administration. "I'll try, but I don't think that will work. The school's just low on funds." He tossed some lettuce in a bowl. "Don't worry, though. It's nothing much."
"If you say so." May pushed the veggies onto a tray. "What was the party you went to last night?"
He grabbed a bottle of dressing from the fridge and tossed it in the salad. "Uh, it was a party for John Jameson, Jonah's son."
"Oh yeah? I've met him before, he's a nice boy."
"Yeah, he's a good guy. Don't know how that happened, with what Jonah's like."
"Peter!" May scolded. "Don't talk bad about people."
"Just joking," he smiled. "John's an astronaut now, and just got back from some exploratory mission. They're opening a temporary exhibit about it in the planetarium."
May seasoned the veggies and put the tray in the oven. "Wow, that's incredible!" She elbowed him in the side with a smile. "When's your space flight, huh?"
He chuckled, "I don't think that's in my future, May."
"Then what is?" she asked, surreptitiously checking the salad to make sure it was edible.
Peter stepped back and leaned against the counter. "I'm not sure."
"Well, how do you feel about teaching? Do you think that's something you could keep pursuing?"
He shrugged. "You know this was a really last minute thing. They needed help, and I came in to fill a hole. I mean, there are parts I really enjoy. When the kids are engaged, and having fun, so am I. It's tough, though. Most of them just don't have the motivation to try very hard."
May walked out to the living room to take a seat, and Peter followed her. "I'm sure you're having more of an impact than you think." She turned on a lamp. "But whatever you do, you should think about going back to school and getting a graduate degree."
They sat down across from one another, and Peter nodded. "I've been thinking the same thing, honestly. Being a science teacher is rewarding, but I'd like to be out there working on what's new. You know, discovering new things, working to solve problems."
His aunt smiled and leaned back in her chair. "Well, there you go. You're so smart, Peter, and I'm so proud of you. Wherever you go you'll do great."
"Thanks, May," he replied softly. "That means a lot."
She smiled at him for a moment before raising her eyebrows. "So… Where's Mary Jane?"
Peter tried not to look guilty as his heart clenched in his chest. "Like I said, she's - uh... busy."
May looked at him knowingly. "What's going on between you two? You haven't split up, have you?"
He shook his head. "No! No…" He looked at his lap. "We just - it's… well, it's complicated." There was no way he could explain what they were really fighting about - it was too connected to the part of his life he kept from Aunt May.
"Honesty," May said after a pause. "That's what got me and Ben through the rough patches."
Peter looked up, surprised. "You guys had rough patches?"
"Oh, sure. Especially when we were your age." She smiled. "Emotions run fast when you're young." She reached forwards to put a hand on Peter's knee. "I know you both care about each other. I think the two of you can work it out."
"I hope so." He gave a small sigh, then shook his head and quirked a smile. "No more about me now, May. I feel like I've just been interrogated." May laughed. "What have you been up to? Any drama at the bridge table?"
"Oh, Peter," she replied with a smile. "More than you'd guess."
Later, the radio was playing in the kitchen as Peter was picking up the dishes off the table.
"By the way, Peter," May called from the kitchen, "did you bring that butter with you? I can't find it."
"Oh no!" he exclaimed. He quickly put the plates on the counter and ran to his bag by the door. He reached in and pulled out the box of butter. Liquid was going through the cardboard. He groaned. "Ugh, gross." He held it out carefully in front of him as he walked back to the kitchen. "Sorry, May. I forgot about it. It's… pretty soft." He looked at her pitifully.
May looked back for a moment, eyes flicking down to the butter in his hand, then up to his face, before she burst out laughing. "Oh, goodness. You really are a smart boy, aren't you."
Peter smiled. "Hey!" he said indignantly. "At least I remembered to buy it!"
She was still laughing. "I was going to make you some cookies, but now…" she shook her head, amused. "Just put it in the fridge. Maybe it will firm up."
He opened the fridge. "Sorry."
Peter noticed as May stopped laughing and frowned, her hand moving up to her chest.
He walked over to her, concerned. "Are you okay?"
She looked up at him in surprise, then smiled. "Yes, Peter. I'm fine. Just heartburn, you know."
He was distracted as the song playing on the radio ended, and the announcer's voice came over the air. Peter frowned as he heard the man say, "We have some breaking news here, folks. Police are warning everyone to stay away from the Daily Bugle building."
"The Bugle?" He looked at May.
The announcer continued: " I'm being told that they're blocking off the whole street, and the police have called a hostage threat."
"Oh my!" exclaimed May.
Got to get over there! Peter thought. "May, uh, thank you so much for dinner -"
"Are you going over there?" She looked worried.
"Just - I can take pictures. I'm sure Spider-Man will be there."
May looked at him like he was crazy. "And the paper you sell those pictures to is being attacked!"
"It's okay, May. I won't get close, but I need to go. I have friends in that building."
She considered him for a moment. Then she put a hand on his arm and nodded. "Okay. Well, take some of this food with you. And the pumpkin bread. I know you never want to cook for yourself."
"Okay," he replied quickly, his mind already out the door.
"They're saying now this is the work of the criminal the Scorpion! Again, police are advising to clear the area. Do not go near."
Scorpion! Not good! Peter grabbed the food and kissed May quickly on her cheek. "Gotta go! I'll stay at a safe distance. Thanks for dinner!"
"Be careful, Peter!" she called after him, her hand over her chest. "And call me when you make it home!"
Peter got to the Bugle just in time to see Scorpion bust through the windows of the top floor. Glass shattered and rained down on the street, and screams rang from inside.
He landed on the roof and crawled down to the window to look in.
"Where the hell is Jameson!?" Scorpion roared, stomping forwards. He picked up a desk and threw it into the wall. "Where is he hiding?" His tail curled around his head, the poisoned stinger glinting as he turned on the group huddled on the other side of the room. Peter saw Betty and Ned among them. "Tell me!"
One bald man near the back was shaking. He started to stutter, "Look, don't hurt us, he-"
Ned quickly moved in front of the group, his arms outstretched protectively as Scorpion marched forwards. "We've told you, he's not here!" he cried, cutting off the other man.
Betty reached out, "Ned, no!"
He grabbed her hand and looked her in the eye. "It's okay."
"No, it's not okay," Scorpion growled, advancing towards Ned. "Not unless Jameson shows himself!"
Time to move. Distract to get the hostages out, then attack. "What, did he write a bad headline about you?" Peter called out. Scorpion's head spun to watch as Peter flipped to land in a crouch between him and the Bugle workers. "Misspell your name?" He cocked his head. "I wouldn't take it so personal. That's kind of his thing."
Scorpion's eyes flared. "Spider-Man."
"You know what they say, don't wear it out."
His tail swished behind his back threateningly. "I'd say it's good to see you again… but it isn't."
"Aw, I'm hurt." Peter quickly gestured to the group behind him and they began to run into the next room.
"Don't get involved here. This is between me and Jameson," Scorpion snarled.
"You know, most people make an appointment." He moved forwards. "Anyway, seems like you've already involved a few other people, so what's the harm?" People were still running away behind him.
"Get out of my way!" Scorpion roared. He ran at Peter, then swung his tail, trying to knock him off of his feet.
Peter jumped over the tail and planted a foot in his face. Scorpion barely stumbled back as he grabbed the foot and swung Spider-Man into the nearest wall. Frames and papers fell to the ground, but Peter shook off the hit, and dove to the side just in time to avoid the stab of that poison tail.
He spun and webbed Scorpion's chest, then used that to pull himself towards him. Peter's feet connected with his green chest, and Scorpion landed with a crash on the wood floor. Before Scorpion could grab him, Peter jumped up onto the ceiling and webbed down his fists.
"Aagh!" Scorpion yelled, pulling against the webbing.
"Now sit there and think about what you've done," Peter said, before rushing towards the civilians. He dropped down and placed his hand on an elderly man's back, moving him forwards. "Quickly, people! The stairs, not the elevator! Goodness, it's like you've never fled from a sinister villain before."
Ned Leeds moved towards him quickly, his eyes darting over to where Scorpion was held down. "Spider-Man!" he said quickly. "Jameson is here! He's in his office, with Robb- with another guy. You have to help them out of there!"
"Did Scorpion say what he wanted with Jameson?"
Ned shook his head. "He didn't explain."
"Well, it's safe to assume he doesn't want his autograph." Peter looked at the group of people and saw Betty standing by the stairs holding the door open. She was looking back at the two of them, her face pale. "Keep helping everyone out of here for me. I'll get Jameson."
"Got it. Thanks, Spider-Man."
"No problem." Peter felt a flash of his spider sense as Scorpion ripped the floorboards apart and sprang to his feet. "Now, move!" he yelled, before leaping back into the action.
He ducked just as that barbed tail sailed for his face, and it whooshed over his head. He brought his fist into Scorpion's jaw, sending the brute stumbling back.
Scorpion snarled. "I came here to settle the score with Jameson, but you're next on my list!"
He moved fast, and suddenly Peter was crashing through a wall. He groaned. "Okay, not cool, man." He shook the dust off and looked up to see Jameson and Robbie standing in the corner, and Scorpion rushing towards the crumbling wall. Oh, great. "Stay back!" he snapped.
Scorpion burst through the wall, drywall exploding around him. "Jameson!" he bellowed.
Spider-Man backflipped onto his hands, then pushed off and knocked his feet into Scorpion's side. "You do realize there are these things called doors?" He punched the green chest. "You. Need. To. Relax!" His last punch sent Scorpion flying back into the wall.
Scorpion pulled himself to his feet. "You don't know what he did to me! He's the reason I'm a freak!"
Huh. Wonder what he means by that. "Yeah, even without the tail I have a feeling you're not a fun guy."
Jonah, of course, felt the need to speak up for himself. "I didn't do anything you didn't agree to, you lunatic! It's not my fault!"
"Oh yeah? Well, I didn't agree to this!" He waved his tail above his head, his features twisted in rage. "And you're gonna pay for it!"
Peter rushed to stand in front of Scorpion. "Now, now, there's no need -"
"Enough of you!" Scorpion snapped forwards and grabbed Spider-Man, securing his arms to his sides, his grip crushing. Peter felt bones shifting and grinding, and then he was flying, crashing through the window and out into the open air.
He scrambled to web the side of the building and swung back in, glass scratching his arms. His eyes widened when he saw Scorpion standing over Jonah, his tail held threateningly above him. Robbie was on the ground a few feet away, his face bloody.
There was no time. Peter did the only thing he could do, and put himself in between Scorpion and Jonah.
As he pushed Jameson aside, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, and knew that the tail had pierced his skin.
He didn't pause, only punched Scorpion in the jaw, knocking him down. Then he webbed his back and threw him out the window. The web attached to the side of the building, and Peter wrapped up Scorpion in webs, cocooning him so he couldn't get free.
"No!" Scorpion yelled, wriggling in the air. "This wasn't your fight, Spider-Man, but it is now, mark my words!"
Peter felt his head begin to pound. "Yeah, yeah. Save it, meathead." A last burst of webbing covered Scorpions mouth, and the criminal could only grunt as he fought to get free.
Spider-Man flipped back into Jameson's office. Jonah was crouched next to Robbie, helping him sit up. He ignored how his eyesight was beginning to waver. "Are you two alright?"
Jonah looked up at him, wide eyed. "You - you saved my life!"
Peter cocked his head. "Was that what just happened?"
"I can't believe it! Gargan wanted to kill me, and you -" Suddenly he looked around, and his eyes narrowed. "You destroyed my building!"
"There we go. Thought you might have had head trauma for a second." The pain in his head spiked, and he blinked slowly. The room felt like it was spinning around him. It must have been the poison. I have to fix this, fast… Ugh, my head…
"Spider-Man?"
Peter focused to see Robbie looking up at him expectantly. He shook his head, trying desperately to clear it. "You… I think it's good now. Scorpion's wrapped up. It's a wrap. I…" he brought a hand to his head. "I gotta go."
He burst out of another window, glass flying, ignoring the indignant cries from Jameson. Scorpion was still tied up, hanging by the web outside the building.
His vision was waving in his eyes, and his head was pounding like it was being slammed by a hammer. He flung himself onto a neighboring roof and pulled up his mask, gasping for air. His thoughts were spinning, and he couldn't seem to hold on to any of them.
What… Where did I go? Where am I? He looked around and recognized nothing, his sight spinning too much to make anything out.
"Help… I need -" He cut himself off with a groan as the pain increased. "Where's help? Where's safe?"
His body moved of its own accord. His blood felt like acid in his veins.
He was swinging, but where?
What
How
Where
Suddenly he was standing in front of a door. He knocked, but he couldn't feel his hands.
His feet felt like jello under him, and he swayed. His head leaned forwards into the door. He felt the grains of the wood on his face, heard the sounds of people talking miles away, smelled the ocean. His thoughts tripped over one another, each trying to stay afloat with the others but all sinking beneath the surface.
The door opened slowly, and he heard a voice.
"You know, Peter, when I said we could get dinner, I didn't mean just show up at my door - Oh my God! Are you okay?"
The voice was familiar, it felt safe. He grabbed onto the wall and tried to blink the haze from his eyes. "What'sgoingon?" he slurred, the words barely making it out of his mouth.
He felt hands on his shoulders, and he was moved inside, the door clicking shut behind him. He stumbled forwards. His feet wouldn't cooperate, and he fell to his knees. He heard the sound but didn't feel it as he hit the floor.
"Peter?" he felt cool hands on his face. "Tell me what to do. What do I do?"
Pain filled his limbs, and darkness crowded his vision. The world felt like it was far away, sounds coming through a filter.
A sting at his cheek. "Peter!"
But he couldn't stay focused.
Couldn't
Stay
Awake.
His eyes slipped closed and he tumbled into the abyss.
