Chapter 8
"Gotta hurry," Peter urged himself on as he hurtled back to Manhattan. In no time at all, he found himself standing across the street from the Moondance Cafe, the fast food joint where Mary Jane got her first job. The Moondance still looked like the massive health code violation it had always been. What was different now was that it was in the middle of what looked like an urban war zone. Burnt-out buildings and car wrecks surrounded the grimy establishment on all sides.
The door to the Moondance opened, and Mary Jane Watson stepped onto the sidewalk and started walking away, very quickly.
"Next time I'm gonna dock your paycheck, Miss Watson!" Peter heard a gruff, accented voice call out from behind her. Enrique looked the exactly same . . . swarthy and sloppy.
Mary Jane did not answer back. She kept right on walking, her eyes cast downward.
Fog from Peter's breath had formed on his eyepieces, obscuring his view. He tugged his mask off just as Mary Jane was crossing the street.
Peter gasped, his eyes widening in sheer disbelief.
Mary Jane was almost unrecognizable. She was even thinner than before, almost waif-like in appearance, her hair stringy and unkempt. The threadbare coat she was wearing over her orange waitress uniform gave her practically no protection against the bitter cold.
But it was the look on her face that had really shocked him. Gone from her eyes was that sparkling laughter that melted his heart and the heart of every man she had ever dated. Those eyes had gone from iridescent green to dull gray, and now held the unmistakable expression of complete and utter defeat. It was as if Mary Jane Watson had long ago given up on living and had settled for merely existing.
More than anything else Peter had seen on this bizarre Christmas Eve, his encounter with Mary Jane had nearly sent him over the edge. "What the hell could have reduced MJ to this?" he asked himself despairingly. And then, from deep within his own soul, the answer came. By taking himself out of the game, he had destroyed the life of the woman he loved – without him to inspire her, she never found the courage to stand up to her father and go after her dreams.
It was a verdict that Peter Parker could not accept. A steely determination suddenly infused every fiber of his being. He would undo this disaster and save her any way he could. He would make things right again.
"Mary Jane!" he called out.
"Buzz off," Mary Jane answered, without looking up.
He ran right up to her. "MJ it's me, for God's sake. It's Peter."
Mary Jane looked up, Her eyes widened with utter fright. She looked at him as if he were a wild animal that had escaped from the zoo.
"MJ," Peter pleaded desperately. "Don't you remember? I'm your boyfriend. We love each other."
"Get away from me!" she yelled as she reached into her purse and whipped out a can of mace.
"Please," Peter pleaded, his heart on the verge of breaking. "You know I could never hurt you. I love you."
"I said get out of here, you nutjob!" Mary Jane screamed as she aimed the nozzle right at Peter's face.
Before she could press the trigger, Peter fired a web ball and knocked the can out of her hand. It was a purely defensive reflex, an almost autonomic response, which, unfortunately, had elicited an unanticipated reaction.
"My God," a horrified MJ gasped. "What are you?" She dropped the can and started to run.
"MJ!" Peter called out desperately. "Please, don't run from me!" But she was running away from him as fast as she could. Peter did not even try to run after her. He merely leaped overhead, landing in front of her. This frightened Mary Jane even more. She stood stock still as he approached her, convinced that he was some monster intent on killing her.
He grasped her shoulders. "Mary Jane, look into my eyes, and tell me you love me," he begged.
"Please mister, whatever you are, just go away," she squeaked helplessly, too frightened to put up any resistance. "I've never seen you before in my life."
But Peter refused to believe it. MJ could not have forgotten him, not after the kisses they shared, not after their intense lovemaking . . . not after he had saved her life five times! He thought for a moment . . . the kiss. That would bring back her memory.
Peter pulled Mary Jane in close and pressed his lips to hers. She closed her eyes and whimpered as if he was going to rape her.
He recoiled in horror. The lips touching his were completely devoid of passion, completely without the intense feelings she had for him, even before they declared their love for each other.
"Nooooooooooooo!!!" Peter shouted as he realized that the woman he was holding was a complete and total stranger.
And as soon as he let go of her, she screamed . . . and screamed . . . and screamed.
"Look, officer!" someone cried out to an approaching policeman. "That fruitcake is attacking some girl!"
"Alright, you!" the policeman barked, drawing his gun. "Get away from that lady and put your hands over your head."
Peter put his mask back on and took off down the street, grateful that he still had his spider-powers.
All of a sudden, sirens were everywhere. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a S.W.A.T. van roll to a stop and disgorge a squad of officers carrying assault rifles.
Peter fired a webline and took off, just as the cops opened fire.
"Nail him before he gets away!" he heard one cop shout
"Too late," cried another. "Get hold of dispatch. Tell 'em to send in a couple of Blue Thunder specials."
"What in God's name are those?" Peter wondered as he swung between the buildings.
He did not have to wait long for his answer. On the horizon appeared a squadron of what looked like military-style attack helicopters. That New York City had to buy Apaches from the Army spoke volumes about how severe its crime problem had become without Spider-Man.
Peter's spider-sense went off like a five-alarm fire, and an instant later, machine gun bullets started flying. "I'd better lose these guys," he panted as he swung even faster, finding alleys wherever he could in a desperate attempt to throw the helicopters off his trail.
Utterly exhausted, Peter landed in an alley somewhere near Greenwich Village. Almost immediately, he could hear the sirens closing in on him, as if he were in a gigantic, three-dimensional game of Pac Man. The choppers had completely cut off his aerial escape routes, and the myriad police vehicles were threatening to do the same on the ground.
Just as all seemed lost, the Delta 88 pulled up, its door already open.
"Seen enough?" Uncle Ben asked bemusedly.
Peter jumped into the car and slammed the door shut. "Please, Uncle Ben," he begged, tears running down his cheeks, making the inside of his mask uncomfortably wet. "Get me the hell out of here and let me live again. I'll do whatever's asked of me. I'll go to jail if I have to, but please, just get me home."
"Okay, son. Hang on." The Delta rocketed forward, smashing through police blockades and causing traffic to scatter.
"Are you out of your mind!" Peter shouted as he watched the speedometer exceed a hundred and twenty miles per hour.
"Don't be a back seat driver."
The sirens receded as the Delta sped toward the Holland Tunnel. Surprisingly, there were no other cars in front of them.
"Are we going to Jersey?" Peter asked.
"Not quite." The old car rushed headlong into a field of the purest, most radiant white light at the other end of the tunnel.
AN: That certainly wasn't the type of reunion Peter wanted with Mary Jane. Luckily, uncle Ben was there to get him out of trouble. What will happen next? Read the next chapter to find out. Please leave a review, we like to hear what you think about this story but no flames.
