A/N) ... As you probably have already figured out, I am absolutely and utterly terrible at updating. (And she finally appears...)
I know that you guys have waiting for this for a long while, and I am sorry about that. There is a multitude of reasons as to why I have not updated anything on this story in a while, (This includes laziness, distractions, procrastination...) like homework, and family life and all that craziness.
Anyways... the first fight scene was based off of someone else's work, but I can't name them off the top of my head. So sorry! If you are the person who wrote that scene, or know of the person who wrote the original scene, please inform me, so that I can credit them in the next chapter!
Also, can I just say? The last couple of chapters have been over three thousand words, and my aim was two thousand. So yeah...
Okay then. Now that that is out of the way, please enjoy! (Finally).
Chapter 9
It had been a long week since he had first entered aunt May's hospital room, and met the seemingly non-threataning Avenger. (Although he still did not trust them, he knew that The Avengers were after Spider-man; not Peter Parker).
Since then, he and aunt May had been getting along much more. He had not told her his secret yet, (even though he had planned to before-hand) but he knew that when things went back to normal, he was going to have to. He didn't want to suffer through that blank stare any longer, and though the hateful voice had been minimally squished recently, he was sure that it would not last. Therefore, he had started to plan ahead- in other words, he had made a script for himself; something akin to a speach, but also had various ways that aunt May might react to it.
Now, aunt May was almost better, and he had no doubt that the doctors would release her in a few days. Any time now, soon, he would return-
But then he paused. He would return? Where would he return? The apartment building had been burned to the ground, and they had no other relatives or house to stay at. They were using up a lot of money on hospital bills, and Peter had been cutting down on his Spider-man time in order to work more. While aunt May had refused to let him get an actual job, he did freelance at the Daily Bugle, and he had garnered a respectable amount of money from that. He just hoped that they would survive long enough for him to get a proper job with his grades, (which he had been working a lot harder on since last week).
In fact, right now, he was doing his homework next to Thomas, on the floor. They were both splayed out on the floor, focused completely on their homework. Occasionally, Thomas would ask for some help, and Peter would look up, give him a small smile, and answer quietly.
Peter's grades had shot right back up to their original heights, and he and Flash were on speaking terms again. Flash hadn't asked about why he was so silent yet (or, not out loud, anyway) but they weren't very close, so he supposed that that was normal. He didn't realize how much he actually liked hearing Flash's strange (and often, random) comments about Spider-man. He had forgotten how he smiled wryly to himself whenever he said anything about his alter ego, and how much the feeling elated him; knowing that someone appreciated him, even if it was only for the girls. Peter smirked into his textbook to hide his amusement.
"Boys! Dinner!" Called Mrs. Mason's voice, promptly cutting off Peter's thoughts. He watched Thomas eagerly leap to his feet, and jog to the door (they weren't allowed to run inside).
Thomas cocked his head to Peter. "Aren't you coming?" he asked. He still hadn't seen Peter eat yet, although they had been having more contact recently. Evidently, Thomas thought that as Peter's roomie, he should look after Peter.
Peter glanced up lazily, before wafting his hand in the air, sending puffs of wind at Thomas. "Nah." He said, non-comittially, not letting on his plan. "But I'm gonna go out now, anyway."
Thomas nodded. No one ever asked where he went all the time, not even Thomas. They either assumed that he was doing drugs, was in a gang, or was off to see friends- mostly that last one.
Thomas went downstairs, and left Peter to fold up his homework (which had been finished a long time ago; he was just enjoying some calm silence with Thomas on the floor), and chuck it onto his bed. Peter followed Thomas soon after, saying only a quick and quiet farewell to his house-mates, before walking out the door.
.o0|O|0o.
Tony sighed, as he was once again stuck in front of the 'spy-screens' as he liked to call them. Cap had found out that he was making JARVIS watch them, and had decided that they needed better eyes watching 'em. So now he was locked up inside his lab, with nothing to do but watch boring screens.
His eyes lazily trailed around the room, listening to nothing in particular (as the screens were turned on mute) and trying to find a worthy distraction. He gave up after a while, and instead turned to look at his phone. It was a last ditch effort, but dissecting his phone (like he had done multiple times before) and checking that everything was still in order (he had made it, after all) managed to earn him a small smile, no matter his unattractive situation.
As he was just diving into the mini thermometer he had installed into it (for acurate weather predictions) JARVIS deemed it an appropriate time to interupt. "Sir, screen 231 is beginning to show something of interest. Would you like me to turn on the sound?"
"Sure, whatever." He mumbled, not thinking it was anything of importance. He didn't take his eyes off of his only means of entertainment, until he heard something that was, in fact, interesting.
"Spider-man!" came the slightly muffled voice of the owner of the phone screen.
"Hello, muggles!" Came the ever cheerful voice of Spider-man, as he swung over their heads. There was a short cheer from the surrounding crowd, while others booed and threw random objects at him. Two of which passed by the screen of the phone they were watching from, which had a good view due to the fact that the person holding the phone was probably filming, and was holding it up.
Tony watched as the streak of red and blue flew by, and Spider-man waved joyously at the crowd, despite some of the hate he was recieving. And then he was gone.
But not for long, Tony thought, as he began typing on his keyboard. "JARVIS, follow that Spider!" And then he stopped typing for a moment, before saying; "And get Natasha and Legolas up here!"
.o0|O|0o.
Peter swung high, up above the people of New York, and did his daily routine of flipping, jumping, and fying through the air. He skimmed the sides of buildings, as he casually swept over the city scape.
It was late, and he would be getting back to the home soon, but he could still drag out some time before he had to go back to being 'Puny Parker'.
A loud scream of distress adressed his highly sensetive ears; a scream that no one else could hear. He quickly flipped back around, and headed back the way he had come. When he reached the scene, there was a young couple, (a little older than him) standing before a group of six crookies.
The woman was the one who had screamed, although she wasn't hurt. The man was standing before her, and had a seemingly fresh cut wound on his outer arm. When he glanced down at the gangsters, he noted that only one of them had a knife. It was an old, rusted knife, but a knife all the same. There was only two others that had weapons, (one was a girl, who held a broken piece of wood with two nals on it, and the other- a boy -had a wooden bat) while the others only had their fists.
Spider-man wasted no more time when the boy with a kbife raised his weapon up high, ready to strike. He made for a nose dive right at the boy, and quickly grappled the knife out of his hand (fortunately surprise was on his side; otherwise he might not have gotten away with that so easily).
He webbed the knife onto the building to the left, but didn't take his attention off of his adversaries. The boyfriend and girlfriend, (or he assumed they were boyfriend and girlfriend) who were now cowering in the corner, flinched in the corner of his vision.
"So, fellas," he began, before turning to the female, who scowled at him. "... And dames. Are we gonna be nice, or are we gonna give Spider-man a hard time?" He spoke in third person, like a mother might to her children.
Most of them tensed, but the girl and the man who had been holding the knife stood strong, and confident. They probably thought that they could take him on. "I don't think you're in a position to make demands," said the girl, to which the knife-guy nodded.
"Yeah, we outnumber you six to one," he pointed out, throwing a finger in his direction. "Others might have lost to you, but we've got experience." He raised both hands into the sky, trying to goad a cheer from his followers. "We've lived on the streets out whole lives! We're not just street rats, we're street wolves! On our own since birth, but grown to be a fearsome predator; a pack 'til the end!" He exclaimed, slightly boosting the confidence of his 'pack'.
Peter, inside, felt atwinge of guilt. Even though they probably hadn't been alone since birth, and had homes to go back to, with parents waiting on their return, there had to be a reason they had turned to this. Perhaps they were in need of money; maybe they were starving. He didn't know why they would do this- but their clothes were enough to point out their rung on the ladder of society.
Spider-man shrugged, and raised his arms to his sides, as if to say 'Sorry, I can't help it' "Well, I gave you your chance." He said, before easily webbing two of the six to a wall. They seemed to be the least enthusiastic of the bunch, and were slinking away into the shadows.
In retaliation, the boy with the bat raced at him, clumsily swinging his weapon, (probably not having used it before) which made for an easy duck from Peter. He bent over backwards into the crab, before lifting up his feet and grabbing the bat right out of his oponent's hands, with his legs.
He flipped back onto his feet, and flung away the bat. He wasn't in the clear for long, though, because the girl came at him with the piece of wood (with a bit more expertise) and steady hands. Luckily, he had his Spidey-sense to warn him, and he leaped up just in time. He attached himself to the close by building (the same he had attached the knife to) and slung a string of web at his oponent. She tried to lunge to the side, but he got her in the leg; immobilizing her as soon as she hit the ground again.
That left the three unarmed boys. He made quick work of the one who had had the bat, wrapping him up in web. The other two were a bit more experienced, especially the one who had never had a weapon in the first place. Peter had assumed that they had just not had enough weapons, but this person was reasonably good at hand-to-hand combat.
Whenever he shot webs at the leader, he would dodge. But if he shot at the other, he would almost dance around it, in a way that was from years of practice; not instinct, like he or the leader would.
Eventually, though, he webbed them both up. And just in time, too, because he could hear sirens closing in. He assumed that one of the couple had called the police.
He looked back over at the two, knowing that he still had some time left. He saw that the boyfriend was hugging her tightly; protecting he from the white-laced bodies around them. He was still protecting her... it made Peter smile.
"Hey, lady!" He shouted, as he prepared for lift-off. The woman looked up from weeping into her boyfriend's shoulder and stared at him, eyes wet with tears, but still alight with young curiosity. "Look after this guy; he's a keeper!" he yelled over the sirens, which were now just a few paces away from the entrance to the alley.
He didn't wait to see their reaction, just simply turned away, and started forwards. A hop, skip, and a jump later, and he was in the air, floating freely, and then falling again. He worked in a rythm; even his body pulsed in the same way, with his heart beating, lungs breathing, and eyes blinking. All was a song, and he was the instrument.
He swung low over the civilians (some of which turned and took pictures, and others shouted greetings. Others threw close by objects and slew him with curses and insults).
He ignored them mostly, (only throwing a quick quip to a small group) knowing that it was getting late. But he didn't want to leave just yet; he wanted to pay a visit to an old friend. With this thought in mind, he took a detour west.
When he reached the rooftop, he sat down at the very edge, and cast his legs out over the side, rocking them slowly. "'Sup, Brucie."
He looked over to the gargoyle, who, in reality, was frozen in his stance. But to Peter, he moved and breathed like any other being. Sometimes, he could have sworn that he even heard Brucie's heart-beat. "Been a while, huh?" He said casually.
He was met with silence. "Yeah. Anyway, what Iwanted to talk to you about was..." He stopped here, and leaned back onto his hind muscles, staring up at the sky. He wasn't quite sure why he had come here, actually. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to. "I don't know..." After all, he was being hunted by The Avengers, his aunt was injured, he needed to pay for hospital bills, his grades (despite getting better recently) were still reasonably low, and he was just tired. Tired, but not physically; mentally, spiritually, whatever. He was just worn out, and he needed a break. "...I guess I'm just a bit... I don't know." He repeated.
Maybe he imagined it, but he felt like some kind of calming aura was emanating from Brucie. It was reassuring, coming from his best friend; normally, he might have gone to Gwen, but-
Gwen...
He might have gone on an internal (or external) tirade about missing her. There would have been tears, (lots of tears) and sorrow, and probably flashbacks. Might have.
Because his Spidey-sense took that instant to act up, and he fell off the building in shock. Fortunatly, he was Spider-man; a wall-clinger, Web-slinger, red and blue clad, half spider. You know, spiders. Those things that climb walls.
He stuck himself to the side of the building before he could fall too far, but the shock was still there. Where was the danger here, of all places? But more importantly, why was it here?
He snuggled closer to the shadows, trying to stay out of sight. From what he could tell, the danger was a bit further a way, but heading his way. This person probably knew where he was (or at least that was what he was guessing) because why else would a danger be heading in his direction specifically? If this was the case, though... they could probably see him- or an acquaintence of their's could, anyway.
His immediate reaction was to look around for cameras, but there was no obvious ones that he could see. Although, that did not mean that they weren't here.
At this point, the danger was right on top of him; he could tell by the way the base of his skull was throbbing. But he could neither hear, nor see, the adversary. Again, that did not mean that they weren't here.
Then he heard the voice. "Spider-man." It was female, and he had commited the voice to memory; he would know it anywhere, even in a large crowd, never mind a lonely and abandoned building. "We know you're here. Come out." It was an order. She was probably used to getting what she wanted, but Peter was a little too... something... to step out. He told himself it was experience speaking, because he didn't want to admit to himself that he was scared.
On the other hand, he knew that she wouldn't leave. And if he tried to himself, she would spot himself for sure. He told himself he had no other choice, gathered the last of his courage from the corners of his mind, and crawled up onto the roof.
He put on a grin, before adressing the woman before him. "Hey, it's Spider-girl!" he said, and tried to make it sound cheerful. But even he could hear the dread in it.
Black Widow's eyes hardened to black slits; no anger, no irritation, no emotion, no nothing. "I'm going to ask you once, and that will be your only chance." She said. It held challenge; completely conveying her dislike towards him; warning him of what she knew. 'I have made my mistake once, but not again. You will be defeated this time around.' No room for argument. And, now, he believed her. No doubt she could kill him in the flick of her wrist, he thought. Last time, he now knew, had not only made her angry, but also experienced. It was probably a one-off, anyway, and he had barely escaped in the first place.
"Come quietly, or I will take you by force." Something about that sentence bugged him. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about that sentence was off. He ran it through his head again. Oh yeah! Last time, Hawk-boy had been here.
"'I'?" He mimicked. "What happened to pigeon worshipper?" He asked, and feigned picking at his nails, despite his gloved fingers.
Black Widow didn't even spare him an emotion. She just looked at him with those black slits, and he knew that she wouldn't answer to anything other 'Yes, I'll come', or 'No, get stuffed'.
Despite the cons, Peter decided that the latter was a more appropriate response. "Take a hike, Widow." He said scathingly, suddenly feeling very irritated. Who was she, to demand that he come with her, after their last meeting? No, now he was only more determined to get away from her quicker.
She didn't even respond. But she did give a signal, which was poorly disguised, by the way. In fact, he would bet good money that she was so confident that he wouldn't get away, that she didn't even bother to hide it.
An arrow sailed passed his ear, leaving a whistling sound ringing and bouncing off of his ear drums. He had only dodged thanks to his Spidey-sense, but it was good enough for him. Now, he know where Hawkeye was hiding (or at least the direction he was hiding in). He was kind of hoping that he could defeat them both in the same way as he had done before, but there was probably a very low chance of that.
He figured that taking out Hawk-dork would work best for him, but Black Widow was already in front of him, fist pulled back in what would have probably been a well-aimed, well-powered punch. Fortunately, Peter had Spidey-sense on his side, so he managed to avoid it in the nick of time.
He was in a bit of a pickle at the moment. He was fighting Black Widow; someone who was not only a master of most (probably all) martial arts, but had also fought him before, so she probably already knew how he battled, and might be able to predict what he did. Then there was Hawkeye; someone who never missed, and could attack without being seen, and without getting close. These two were the perfect team, and he was no where near their standards, now that they were in their most comfortable positions- basically a home-field advantage.
...Home-field ...
That gave him an idea. Did he, Spider-man, have a home-field? Yes. Yes he did; the streets, the sewers... New York. This was his city. He knew this place like the back of his hand. So what if he couldn't escape them by running? He could hide. It may be the coward's way out, but it might just work. Now then, where to hide?
Spider-man felt a grin glide on to his face as an idea popped into his head. What an idea... he shook his head at himself, both proud of himself and disbelieving. Only he himself would think of such a plan; it could go so easily wrong, and just plain... weird. But he was curious as to how that might go. Plus, it sounded... fun.
"You wanna catch me?" He taunted, lurching to the side as he avoided a stun-arrow. "Well, you gotta catch me first!" He promptly backflipped off of the building and swung back towards a less deserted part of the city. Despite the late hour, people were still out. New York wasn't called the 'City that never slept' for nothin', yo. Peter snickered to himself quietly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hawkeye speeding over the rooftops after him, as expected. He couldn't see Black Widow, but he had no doubt that she was there, hiding in the shadows, all creepy-like. His Spidey-sense informed him of such.
He swung up high, and landed on the side of a billboard, much to the confusion of civilians. They looked at him expectantly, probably thinking that he was leading a fight over here (which he was; that was basically the plan. Lead the fight to civilians, get their attention stirred, and hopefully disappear into the throngs of running and screaming people). He relaxed onto the side of the building, and waited for yet more confrontation from his enemies.
He knew that they were here, but they seemed reluctant to come out into the open, into the judgemental eyes of the people. He smirked, thinking this might be easier than he thought.
Then an arrow reminded him that they still had projectiles, and didn't need melee combat in order to catch him. It also reminded him that he should never, ever let his guard down around these people. The arrow sailed over his shouder, landing a short scrape over it. It tore open the fabric, and painted a thin line of red on to his skin. He felt his shoulder explode into a strange itchiness, that confused him slightly. It felt like hundreds of ants were clawing at the open wound, and he couldn't tear them off, no matter how hard he scraped his fingers over the wound. He sagged slightly to the side, and hung on only by his other, healthier arm.
This sent the on-lookers into a state of shock, and curiousness. What was happening, and who had shot Spider-man? He could already predict their thoughts and questions.
He ignored them, though, and tried to think of a solution to his predicament. It seemed the people weren't as prone to panicking as he thought, because none of them were really running around and screaming just yet. Some were calling the police though, so there was that. He sighed inwardly; this was just what he needed- evil policemen who wanted to arrest him.
He knew that they must have a limited amount of projectiles, so they would have to approach at some point, and give him the opening he needed to escape. Because while they were approaching him, he could slip into the crowds, while they weren't busy trying to aim a shot at him.
Fortunately, he was ready this time when the next arrow shot at him, so it buried itself into the billboard, and not his arm. He was ready for the next few arrows too, despite his blurring vision. It was slowly getting darker and darker around the edges of his eyes, and he knew without a doubt that it had been the arrow that hit him first that caused it. It must have been some kind poison, because his movements were becoming more sluggish, too.
He knew that he could not wait it out now, so he had to come up with some other plan. They were obviously stalling him, waiting for an opening, or for when he no doubt would collapse.
With this thought in mind, he leaped from his vantage point, (just in time to avoid another arrow) and stumbled into a landing at the feet of the civilians. "Quick!" He shouted, trying to rouse them into a small panic, albeit guiltily. "Before they get you!" He waved his arms wildly in a random direction.
This, fortunately, got them to pick up the pace. They all started rushing in the direction he had pointed in, not unlike a waterfall of colours and noise. Now, with Spider-man's conformation of danger, they were panicking.
This was just what he needed. With a swift bounce, he buried himself deep into the pit of the croud, simply a drop of chintzy in the motley of colours.