CHAPTER-4
Over the next few days, Peter lost sense of time.
With his new job at the Bugle, his homework's, his Biology project with Mary Jane and last but certainly not the least, his nightly masquerades as Spiderman there was hardly any time to rest. On several occasions he found himself flying from one task to the next but not sufficiently dealing with either.
Primarily though, his mind was fixed on finding the missing man. November was about to come to an end, and there had been no sign of Harold Williams anywhere. He seemed to have disappeared into thin air along with his kidnapper – the man in the white mask.
Williams's wife, a tiny frail woman with pallid skin, had made several TV appearances begging the kidnappers to release him. If not for her, at least for the sake of their two children.
It was the picture of the weeping wife holding the two kids to her chest that fueled Peter's vigil every night. He just couldn't, in good conscience, allow this poor family to suffer.
And so he hunted for Harold.
Every night.
And every night he failed. And every night he returned home empty handed, tired to the bone and ready to pass out. And every night the picture of Uncle Ben, ornately framed on his bedside table, looked at him sternly as if to say "You have to try harder Pete!"
"Well I am trying, aren't I?" he would growl back, as he swayed uncontrollably for a while before hitting the bed. "But I just….. need some sleep"
And for a few blissful moments he would be lost in the world of dreams, only to wake up to the deafening ring of his bedside alarm.
And the cycle would repeat itself.
Meanwhile, the Daily Bugle had garnered quite the attention for publishing the article about the incident at the prison. And just like Jameson had predicted the Mayor tried to downplay the news.
But eventually the truth got out.
This led to a major popularity hike for The Bugle in terms of popularity.
People started to believe in them.
The next time Peter visited, Ben Urich was a celebrated hero around the bullpen. Even Jameson, who always seemed to be on a short fuse, was pleasant for the most part. From what he gathered, he'd only exploded once in the entire day, which was unprecedented.
Spiderman was no longer the center of attention in the Bugle daily anymore. The man in the white mask had replaced him. 'Chameleon – he could be walking among you!' was the headline on Monday. There was no picture but in spite of that the paper sold half a million copies.
One of those copies ended up with Peter, who scoured through it hoping there would be some lead in there, some inscrutable link that he had totally overlooked.
"Anything interesting in there?" MJ asked looking down at him from her swivel chair.
He was at her house slaving through the grueling project. With the deadline looming closer they had injected pace into their work.
"Not so much, except for the front page"
"Hey!" she exclaimed, pointing at the bold red headlines. "Isn't that the guy who attacked me and Aunt Anna?"
"Yup, except he wasn't called 'The Chameleon' back then. I swear, they have got to be pulling these names out of a hat! But yeah, definitely the same guy"
"Hmph, fancy title for a criminal! But this guy certainly does seem to be a cut above the rest"
"That he does", he sighed.
"Do you believe he can do it?", she asked looking straight at him.
"What?"
"Do you believe he can change appearances?"
"As clichéd as this sounds, I don't know what to believe", he turned his gaze back to the headlines. "But I do believe he needs to be stopped."
Even though he hadn't truly expected the paper to help, he did feel slightly disappointed when he stowed it back into his pack. He was running out of options and Williams was running out of time.
That evening, out of sheer desperation and a lack of any real progress, he went shopping at a back-alley thrift store.
It was with an air of indecision that he stepped through the doors. His eyes squinted around in the dimly lit quarters as he scanned the second-hand equipment littered across the wall-racks. All of these were stolen, no doubt about it. He was in enemy territory now.
Nevertheless, he steeled his nerves and walked up to the frowning middle-aged man behind the counter. Not speaking a word, he slipped a piece of paper across the counter-top to the man, who glanced at the scribbled note and looked back at him with an ugly glare.
Peter quailed under his gaze, but the man soon shuffled off to the back of the room and returned with a shoddy brown package. Still glaring at him he dipped it upside down, unloading a dark brown radio on the counter-top.
"A police scanner for the esteemed gentleman", the man announced. "Was this what you needed?"
Exactly what I need, he thought as he saw the NYPD insignia attached to the top of the scanner. He had been searching for a police scanner for a while now. But he had never considered attaining it for real until now, especially from a black-market dealer and yet here he was. The situation was indeed dire.
He nodded and with hurried movements stuffed the radio into his backpack. He began jogging the moment he exited the door.
It had to be done, he told himself as he increased his pace. If he couldn't find Harold Williams alone, then the cops might have some lead on him. If he could tune the dialer into the right frequency, which he would be able to do with this police scanner, then he would be able to listen in on the cops.
So with a somewhat relieved countenance, he walked the rest of the way back home.
_XXX_
"When you said you needed a place to hide, my client was more than willing to offer you this…..workshop. But it's been more than two weeks now!"
"And that's a problem?"
"It is, my employer's patience is running out."
"Is that why you're here? To deliver a message?"
"I am here to keep an eye on you. My client doesn't trust you and frankly, neither do I"
"I wonder why?"
"You're a loose cannon Mr. Smerdiyakov. Your actions are erratic like a whimsical overgrown baby!"
"Watch your tongue!"
"Don't believe me? What about the murder of Carlos Mendez?"
"It was necessary!"
"It was stupid! You have no regard for consequences and because of your ill-conceived acts, the cops have a target painted on your back!"
"The cops will never find me!"
"Then why do you hide from them? Why do you cower in this old abandoned theatre, which mind you, my client so graciously arranged for!"
"If your client feels so troubled by my staying here, then why doesn't he just get rid of me?"
"Because you have a job to do Dmitri! You have not forgotten our arrangement have you?"
"Don't call me that!"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Don't call me Dmitri! Or Mr. Smerdiyakov! Those aren't my names not anymore"
"Ah, I understand! The actor's dedication! To wear the mask at all times. Commendable!"
"Hardly"
"What was it they call you now? I remember reading about it on some paper. Brush up my memory would you?"
"The Chameleon!"
"Yes, the creature that changes colors. To hide from the prey? A coward! Just like you! An apt choice I must say"
"Mock me all you want Smythe. But you've only seen the beginning"
"The beginning of what?"
"My play"
"And what's to come?"
"The conflict!"
"This is no drama. You're not acting on some stage"
"On the contrary, this is all a drama. We're all trapped in this act together!"
"Mm-hm, and what about your guest?"
"Williams?"
"He doesn't seem that happy with your hospitality. He hasn't been harmonious with his treatment. Expected higher standards, I presume"
"He's been bothersome"
"Probably wishes to know why he's here?"
"Probably"
"And why is he here?"
"You know why he's here. It's only a matter of time"
"He's a nobody. I checked his background details. His credentials has nothing of import. He is a system's lackey. How is he important to your plan?"
"You needn't worry about that Mr Smythe. I have everything where I need it to be"
_XXX_
It was early in December when Mary Jane had to decide the fate of her father's belongings.
After school she and her aunt drove up to a stateside storage facility. Now that Philip Watson was dead, their old house in Carolina had been put up for sale immediately, courtesy of MJ's own volition. She no longer wanted to live there, not when she had a perfectly good aunt waiting to take her in.
But with the house out of the way, her father's meager belongings were still to be taken care of. And truth be told, MJ had been dreading it. To be in close proximity to all those vile furniture and paintings of which she held so many dark and painful memories, was frightening to her.
But her aunt had convinced her to come, and after many stubborn sessions she had agreed.
Can't be that bad, she told herself as she walked through the plain white metallic doors into a sprawling furniture space. A man stood behind a woodland counter, a registry book spread out in front of him. Her aunt walked over to him and began talking while she roamed the giant storage hall.
Her footsteps echoed across the room and a faint smell of varnish hit her nose. Dozens of paraphernalia were stocked across the room, all covered in plain white cotton sheets.
As she walked deeper into the space, weaving through the aisles, her aunt's voice grew dimmer. At the very back of the room, she found something that belonged to her. A tiny wardrobe closet.
It was strange. She always remembered it boarded to the wall next to the desk back in her old claustrophobic bedroom. But to see it here in a massive echoing hall with dozens of other odds and ends, almost made her believe that it wasn't hers.
But she knew it was hers. The creaky sound it made when she pulled the door open, the chipped nail marks on the side of the wooden paneling. Yup, this was definitely hers.
And almost unwillingly she recalled the innumerable times she hid inside this thing when her father came home drunk and volatile. He would yell for her, ask her to come downstairs. But she never had the courage to do so.
"MARY JANE! Get down here! Where's my food? Why are the lights all switched off? MARY JANE!"
She would shudder in fear every time she heard his bellows.
But instead of heeding his words, she would lock herself inside this closet and wait in the dark, wait in fear.
She didn't fear the dark in the beginning, but eventually, the fear of hiding from her father inside this wardrobe for hours on end, made her terrified of it. It had passed on; almost like father to daughter, but in a twisted sense.
She swung the door shut, along with the memory. That's when the realization hit her.
It almost felt like she was living two different lives.
One, which existed in that small messy bedroom on Carlton Street, Carolina in that small messy bedroom, under a constant fear of abuse from her father, and the other in Queens with her aunt but without her father.
Both these parts had a distinct line etched between them.
She could find no connection between them.
And that's when she made up her mind. She wound her way out of the furniture space back to the counter.
Her aunt jerked up her eyebrows. "Anything interesting back there?"
"Not really", she replied tightly.
"Didn't find any of your stuff?"
"I did"
"Do you want to keep it? There's not much space at our home but I'm sure we could make do-"
"No"
"Sorry?"
"I don't want anything."
A worried expression came upon Aunt Anna's face, "Are you sure?" Then she lowered her voice, "I know it's difficult for you, but maybe we can take what we need and leave some of the more distasteful stuff behind?"
"No", she replied.
"No?"
"No, I don't want any of it," she said looking straight at her aunt. "It's just… for what's it worth, I like my life now. Compared to Queens, I'd been leading a miserable existence in Carolina."
"And I realized just now, that this is my chance to leave everything behind. To move on."
Her aunt chuckled. "Mary Jane, we hardly ever move on. Trust me when I tell you I speak from experience. If only we could leave behind the things we regret without them ever coming back to haunt us."
"Maybe so. But I see no reason to wait for that day"
Her aunt scrunched up her eyebrows, "You sound like a sage. I should start buying fortune cookies from you."
She laughed and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. She tried to imagine herself as a wizened old man sitting on top of a snowy mountain – Hilarious. Her aunt smiled, a glint in her eye. "I probably have said this before, but I'm proud of you"
"So what do you reckon we do with all the paraphernalia?"
"Hmm, well, we get rid of it."
"How?", she asked, a small smile playing at her lips.
"We sell it off, and use the money for your college tuition. Sounds good?"
"Did I ever tell you you're my favorite aunt?"
"I'm your only aunt."
"Then you're one of a kind."
"Truly", her aunt said a bit uncomfortable with the praise. "But you can lay low on the buttering"
"Not a chance"
_XXX_
On their way back home, her aunt dropped her off in the neighboring block.
"Back before ten!" she announced from inside the car, as she rolled down the window to her side.
"You gotcha" MJ answered as she stepped out.
"Your dinner will be waiting on the table when you get back."
"Right."
"And if you're not hungry, you pop it back into the fridge. Okay?"
"Yup"
There were a few more pointers she issued before rolling out of the driveway.
She took a deep breath when she saw the blue Pontiac leave, only to turn at the next block. She climbed the stairs behind her. The apartment the Parker's lived in, were almost identical to hers.
At the top of the stairs, she buzzed for the third floor.
"Who is it?" a voice crackled through the intercom.
"Mary Jane Watson. I had a group project with Peter Parker"
"Oh, its you, dear! Come right in!"
It was her first time visiting his apartment. All this while they had been working in her house so she'd called for a change of venue.
Luckily, he was her neighbor so there wasn't much hassle involved. And Anna had been more than happy to have her out of the house.
An obliging woman greeted her as she stepped in through the door.
"You must be MJ?"
"Yeah", she replied. Aunt May looked exactly like Peter had described - Brown hair that cascaded down to her shoulders, and a 'cool as a cucumber' expression on her face.
"Peter told me you were a redhead. But my, that hair must draw quite the attention!"
"It does", she replied in a clipped tone.
"Oh no! I didn't mean to offend you", replied Aunt May huffily. "It's a very pretty color. That's what I meant"
"Oh…", she blushed. "Sorry"
"It's okay dear. Peter's in his room, just down the hall, second door to the left."
"Right", she muttered. As she made her way down the hall she could feel May's eyes bore into her back.
She had no trouble finding Peter's room because for one the door was covered with millions of multi-colored post-it notes and movie posters from the late 80's. Half of the notes were covered with inspirational quotes that he himself had scribbled down on them.
One of them read, 'Life is like an oyster. Every time it opens up, you gotta grab the gooey stuff!'.
She snorted. Annoying though he might be, Peter Parker wasn't a dimwit. Only he was capable of writing cheesy stuff like this. She knocked on the door.
"Coming!" Peter's voice came from within.
She heard a shuffling from within, and then a giant thunk. "Crap", Peter said from inside. "Give me a minute"
It was a while before he swung the door open, a hand rubbing the back of his neck.
"Sorry about that", he muttered. "Knocked some books over. Come on in."
Though she wasn't entirely sure what she had been expecting, she found Peter's bedroom to be fairly nice. It wasn't a big hodge-podge or smelly like she had imagined a teenage boy's room to be.
"It isn't much", he said walking over to his desk. "But make yourself at home"
Once she was done examining the iconic movie posters on the walls, she turned her eyes back to Peter who was standing stiffly looking at her with a slight red face. This immediately caught her as a bit strange. From all the times she had talked with him he seemed easy-going, but now he looked like a sun-dried piece of cardboard. He seemed shy and tongue-tied.
Was it because he had a girl in his bedroom?
She cleared her throat, a slight blush spreading across her face. "So…"
"W-what?" he asked, fidgeting with his hands.
"Nice place"
"I know…. I – I mean… Thanks"
The silence between them laid so awkwardly she had to do her best not to screw up her eyes.
"Could I get some-"
"Water?" Peter finished and immediately blushed to his ears. "Be right back"
The moment he walked out, she heaved a sigh of relief. When did the room get so hot? She couldn't recall Peter ever being so nervous around her.
Or maybe she had only imagined him to be so easy-going and friendly. Maybe he had always been shy and nervous, and she had only been blind to it. They had met up only two or three times now but he had always seemed more annoying that nervous.
She stopped pondering when Peter returned to the room. And thankfully he seemed better now, not quite as red in the face or fidgety.
"Here", he said passing her the glass of water.
"Thanks", she muttered as she took it from him, but as she did her fingers grazed across his calloused knuckles and he reddened again. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he turned around and seated himself at the edge of his bed, away from her.
She smiled beside herself as she gulped down the water.
"Do you always wear clothes twice your size?", she asked pointing at his baggy t-shirt.
"What?", he asked clearly taken off guard. He looked down at his shirt and seemed to realize where he was. "Oh, you mean…. Yeah, it's my uncle Ben's. He was bigger than me….", he turned crimson. "I m-mean bigger in torso proportions… not in…. you know….."
"I don't actually", she replied innocently. She knew a stupid grin was about to escape her lips.
But Peter looked absolutely mortified. He was glancing to and fro between her and the door, as if planning an escape. And suddenly the grin that she had been stifling broke out.
Was this the real Peter Parker? All the time they had spent cooped up at her bedroom working on the biology project he had always annoyed her with his stupid commentary. But watching this side of him was…. Different.
At school, he was always the 'keep your head down and get through the day' kind of kid. Almost half her class had the opinion that Peter was the shy and immaculate kid with good grades, and he hardly ever bothered anyone. But around her he was a jerk and a bothersome project partner.
But now that they were somewhat close, it seemed like his true self was starting to show. He was…
"Adorable," she grinned in between her sips.
"What?" he asked shifting his gaze back at her.
"Nothing" she replied. "Just said thanks for the water"
But he didn't seem convinced. His eyes skittered towards the door again as if still contemplating an escape.
"What's that?" she said suddenly, spotting a dark brown box sitting on Peter's desk. She might have been born in the Internet era but she could definitely identify a radio when she saw one.
Peter immediately jumped up from the bed and stuffed the thing into his drawer, but not before she spotted an NYPD symbol on top of it.
"It's nothing", he said covering his desk.
"Dude, you have a police scanner? Where did you get it?"
"It's my…. Uncle's!", he said with a painful smile. "Yeah, my uncle um…. left me his police scanner."
Of course he did, she thought. How many dead uncles left police scanners to their nephews as gifts?
"Right," she deadpanned sarcastically.
But Peter was wiggling his eyebrows in worry. Obviously she had seen something he didn't want her to see.
"Work!", he exclaimed suddenly. "We have to work! Deadlines! Warren! Let's get to work!"
And so for the time being, she put her thoughts aside.
_XXX_
When MJ finally left, Peter heaved a massive sigh of relief. He had acted stupidly all night.
He didn't know why though. It almost seemed like the more time he spent with her the more nervous and fidgety he got, which was strange because usually the opposite was true.
But of course, he wasn't the average crowd. He was a nervous wreck when it came to girls.
He massaged his head, as the events of the night replayed in his head. He cringed when he remembered the 'my uncle is bigger' comment – It was a classic example of Parker smooth talk falling flat. He hoped Mary Jane hadn't thought too badly of him.
A knock on his open door startled him. Aunt May stood at the door with a grin plastered on her face.
"Smell that, kiddo?"
He sniffed the air. "Lemme guess…. Fried chicken?"
"Dead wrong"
"What then?" he asked in mock disbelief. "I'm never wrong at 'guess the food'."
"Well you are this time. Because I smell victory!"
"Really?
"Mm-hm, and the prize is all yours!"
"What?"
"You like her" She said.
Peter gaped at her grinning visage. "What are you talking about?"
"You like Mary Jane, don't you?", it was stated more as a fact than as a question.
He merely ogled at her, an involuntary blush creeping up his neck. "Wha-"
"You have a crush on her. I've been watching your cozy little talk from the hallway, and my my, you are absolutely crushing on that girl!"
"I-I'm not crushing on… I don't have a…. She's my project partner!", he shouted at her finally.
But she ignored him. "Well, I can't blame you. That girl definitely is quite the beauty, and not to mention that hair is absolutely gorgeous. Though on second thought, I would like a bit more meat on those bones."
"Aunt May!", he said, mortified now.
"What?" she grinned innocently. "Just saying that she's hot, dear! You don't have to sweat it"
"Stop!", he said waving his hands frantically. He didn't want to talk about girls with his aunt. That was a territory he wasn't prepared to broach lightly.
"And the way your eyes went all googly and round, it was so cute!"
At that point Peter jumped on top of his bed and wrapped a pillow around his ears. His aunt looked at him in surprise, and then smirked.
"You may try to fool yourself Peter, but I know you like that girl", she mouthed at him.
And then thankfully, she walked out of his room leaving him alone with his thoughts.
_XXX_