Peter had read the instructions for his new camera seventeen times in the last half hour. Scratch that, make eighteen times in the last half hour. The young Parker child did not want to make a single mistake as his financial security depended upon his success or failure to master the art of photography. But, he was fairly confident that you would be able to get the hand of this very quickly. Really, how hard could taking a few pictures be?
The true problem was how would he take the pictures. Peter could just stand in front of the camera in his Spider-Man costume with the timer on and strike a few poses. But, if he turned those in, they would think the pictures were a hoax.
Peter could set the timer and swing by just before it went off and get a photo that wouldn't look faked. But of course, how would some kid be on top of the right building just as Spider-Man happened to swing by?
Well, they didn't figure out Iron Man's real identity until he went public after joining the Avengers. And heck, Peter Parker wasn't even a blip on the radar compared to Tony Stark. And Peter still wanted his autograph!
The easiest way to explain how he got the photos was that he was Spider-Man's personal photographer! Or…something like, that. Peter would figure the rest out later. Right now, he needed to focus getting the camera prepared and ready.
Spider-Man leaned over his camera, which was mounted on a cheap tripod, on top of the roof of a six story tall apartment building in Midtown. The sun was just overhead, casting very little shadow, which was just fine for the costumed avenger.
The web-slinger clicked the dial for the timer, adjusted its angle just so, and finally smiled under his mask.
"All right Spidey, let's see how photogenic this handsome mug of yours really is!" With a whoop and an alee oop, Spider-Man back flipped away from the camera and twisted around in mid-air and came to a landing with his back to the camera and standing on the very edge of the building.
Right on time he heard the first click and saw the faintest trace of a flash, he spun around and dropped into his favorite stance, his left arm touching the ground, fingers spread wide, his right arm in the air above him, and his legs spread with his right leg bent at the knee and his left straight out to the side.
This stance allowed him to take full advantage of his speed and agility right out of a landing, preferable from behind the enemy.
He heard the click and saw the flash of the next photo, prompting him to leap back into the open air and cast a web line to the building situated across the street from the camera. Just as Spider-Man was about to swing away, he heard the final click and flash.
He swung away from the camera, going to the right to be exact, turned a sharp corner, let go of the web line, fired another onto the apartment buildings roof and gave a good, strong tug, pulling himself onto the roof where he landed in a roll to bleed out his momentum.
Spider-Man stood up right, and with a proud swagger, and cheery whistle, cantered over to the camera. He detached it from the tripod and turned it off. It was then he noticed a small problem. Peter had left the lens cap on the whole time.
"AW FOR THE LOVE OF MIKE!" Spider-Man slapped his forehead in frustration. With a disgruntled snort he grabbed the lens cap and gave it a gently, yet firm, pull. It didn't budge. With a raising growl, he gave another tug. And another. And another. Until…
POP!
THWACK!
THUMP!
Parker Residence
Aunt May sat at the table, reading a romance novel and sipping a cup of green tea when she heard the front door open. "Welcome home Peter." She said on pure reflex. The middle-aged widow looked over the top of her book at her nephew. "Would you like a cup of-what happened to your eye?"
Peter looked at his Aunt, shoulders slumped and not a trace of pride, or dignity on his face, which was marred by a very prominent black eye. "I'd…really rather not talk about it right now. I'm going up to my room to reevaluate my life."
The hazel-eyed science wiz vanished up the steps, almost missing the squeaking step on his assent.
May bit her lip and wondered if she really wanted to know. She didn't.
Unknown Location
The smell of pumpkin spice and apple cider filled the comfortably furnished room. The couch was an older design it's once cream colored, cushions having faded over the years, but still very soft and comfortable. The coffee table was of well-stained oak and intricately carved legs that where shaped like a swans neck ending in a head.
A long mirror hung over the couch, reflecting the front of the room, the wall of which was covered by so many photographs that the flower print wall paper was barely visible between the spaces twixt the frames.
Mary Jane dried her eyes on a tissue, finally having stopped her sobbing. "Thanks for letting me come over Aunt Anna." The red head sniffled.
Anna Watson patted her niece sympathetically on her shoulder. "It's no problem Mary Jane. I…understand." Anna Watson was a woman in her early sixties. Her brunet and silver hair was tied up in a tight bun on the back of her head. Her skin was wrinkled and drawn tight over her almost sickly frame, something that failed to betray her very spry and active lifestyle.
Anna had never been married, and never regretted it after seeing her and her brothers' parents failed marriage. Maybe that was one of the deciding factors that effected, her brother's personality that led him to become such an angry man.
"Would you like some coffee, or a soda?"
Mary Jane shook her head. "No thank you Aunt Anna." She looked up at her aged aunt with puffy, sorrowful eyes. "Why do they always have to do this? Why can't they just stop?"
"I can't make excuses for your father. He's always been temperamental. It's just something that…you'll have to deal with it, honey."
MJ gazed at her Aunt, confusion and anger filling her emerald orbs. "Just deal with it? Are you kidding me? That's all you have to say!"
Anna Watson was taken back. She looked away from her niece, feeling a mixture of emotions grasp at her heart in an instant. "I sorry dear." Anna got up off the coach and walked through a pair of swinging double doors back into the kitchen.
Cold realization stabbed at Mary Jane's heart. She buried her tear stained face in her hands, ashamed that she had hurt one of the only people that ever really loved her.
Stacy Apartment
George Stacy sat in his favorite chair, a large red armchair that he brought with him from England, stroking his thin white beard. His eyes closed and his wrinkled brow furled, George pondered a matter that could very well change his and his daughter's life, be it for the better, or the worst.
This boy of hers, Peter Parker, may just very well be doing something very dangerous and VERY illegal. Gwen, if she continued to be involved with young mister Parker, could end up hurt. That was the most pressing of conundrums. If George did nothing, he would be neglecting his duty as a father and police officer, but if he did do something, the repercussion my very well still affect Gwen and his relationship.
Captain Stacy sighed. Picking up his saucer and teacup, the gray haired man took a sip of the piping hot tea. The answer was obvious.
I know, I know! It's a short chapter, but I'm pretty busy lately with a job hunt going on and working on other fic's, so please understand. Also, for all the Phans reading this, I just posted Danny Phantom Unlimited. Check it out on my profile and drop a review.
Next Chapter: Get a Hair Cut and Get a Real Job Part Three: Money, Money, Mon-WHAT?!