Disclaimer: Marvel and McDonalds are going to sue me unless I say this stuff ain't mine
Heeey look chapter 21...yaaaaay...my story can drink now...
Yeah so I lied again. I still have more stuff I want to include before the story is concluded, so I had to split this extra-long chapter up AGAIN. I swear, I'm like that annoying movie director who splits their stories into parts just to be annoying (aka Deathly Hallows, Mockingjay, Breaking Dawn...yada yada) Sorry these are taking so long to write, but AP classes and varsity basketball suck butt. BUT OMG GUYS I HAVE SO MUCH TO RANT ABOUT BUT I'M GOING TO SAVE IT UNTIL AFTER THE CHAPTER SO I DON'T ANNOY THE CRAP OUT OF EVERYONE SO YEAH. I really hope you guys like this chapter, but I think it might irritate a few of you, so sorry. ;)
Chapter 21
So that's how all those chimeras got out of Oscorp.
Tony Stark could see the gigantic mass of discolored blobs making their way underneath the city. They were creeping along at an ominously slow pace, like a tsunami wave in the middle of the ocean that's completely undetectable. That is, until it's too late.
Without a word, Iron Man switched his repulsors to hyperdrive and rocketed down towards the scene below, where the chimeras were beginning to seep out of the sewers and onto the streets. Peter sprang off the building close behind, firing off a few web strands to cushion his landing.
"Oh no," Peter breathed, rolling along the ground before stopping in a low crouch. A small herd had already begun to gather above the opening, and more and more were squeezing out as the seconds passed. The fact that they had managed to sneak this deep into the city, moving right under their feet, was incredibly unnerving. Tony cursed loudly, raising his arm forward.
"Damn freaks," he spat, charging up his repulsors. "How many of you ugly bastards could there possibly be?"
Concussive energy pooled in the center of his palm, and with a sharp ping, a brilliant blast of light fired from his hand and crashed into the center of the chimeras, causing them to fly backwards in a chorus of screeching and hissing. One of the creatures that came crawling out of the manhole was on fire.
"You keep those occupied," Stark told him, spinning back around. "I can see another hoard coming from back that way. I'll see if I can stop them." With that, he blasted off the ground and zipped around the corner, leaving Peter standing in the dark roadway alone.
Score one for teamwork, he thought with a snort, but decidedly turned to face his screeching enemies. Clenching up his fists, Spider-Man sprinted towards the teeming opening in the middle of the street. He sprang into the air, flipping a few times, then kicked the flaming chimera away from the hole, trying to ignore the screams of agony that tore from its throat. Its skin was melting off its bones. Steeling himself, Peter turned away from suffering creature and spotted the manhole cover lying on the sidewalk a short distance away from him. He aimed his wrist at it and shot a web-line from his web-shooters, which snaked across the street and grasped onto its metal surface. Peter whipped the covering towards himself and snatched it out of the air, but was then startled by his spidey sense ringing inside his head. He glanced over his shoulder, and found that another chimera was trying to crawl out of the sewers. It looked like some kind of fat amphibian-man thing, and its beady eyes leered into Peter's soul. It grappled at the street with its webbed fingers, trying to climb onto the road, but Peter wasn't going to allow that. Spider-Man jumped up and slammed his feet on top of the flabby creature, causing it grunt, but it didn't hardly move much. He hopped up and down on top of its head, trying to squish it back down the hole, but Peter didn't really weigh enough to do so. Growing irritated, he jumped off its head and punched it's slimy body downwards as hard as he could, feeling his fist sink deep into its rubbery skin. Well, that did it. The frog-man gurgled in pain from the impact before its chubby form slipped back down, and moments after it had vanished into the dark abyss, a splash sounded from below, echoing off the damp walls dully. Peter stared down the crater uneasily, the disgustingly familiar stench of the sewers drifting up from the hole and causing him to wrinkle his nose, when he suddenly went rigid. As his vision adjusted to the darkness of the world below, he noticed that there were hundreds of pairs of eyes staring back at him from the within void, wide and fearful and oozing with bloodlust. A symphony of growling and shrieking boiled up from the writhing mass of deformed bodies, which was randomly punctuated by actual words that Peter chose to ignore.
Suddenly, a chimera popped out of the hole and screamed right in his face. Alarmed, Peter slammed the manhole cover right on top of it, sending the beast tumbling back down into the freakish hell it had come from. Then he slid the metal lid back over the opening, where it fit rather snugly. He had to keep them from getting onto the streets.
"Stark!" Peter yelled across the way, not looking up. "The manholes—we have to seal them up so the chimeras can't get out!"
When he didn't get an answer, he glanced over to where Iron Man had flown off to, and gasped. A huge group of cross-species mutations had come pouring around the corner, dripping with sewer water and baring their teeth. Tony was hovering above them, releasing an onslaught of firepower against his countless foes, but they continued to advance. Peter swore loudly, knowing he had to help him but feeling the manhole cover under his feet jump as the chimeras beneath it tried to escape. He webbed it to the street, hoping that that would hold them for the time being, then bolted towards the oncoming flood of jagged claws and hooked fangs.
"Help!" a terrified voice suddenly shouted from behind him, causing him to stop abruptly. "Help us! Please! Someone help!"
Spider-Man whirled around, and his eyes fell upon a group of teenagers who were running for their lives down the road. Their eyes were filled with terror and their arms were pumping violently at their sides. One of them was carrying a person who appeared injured. Chasing after them was a terrifyingly enormous mob of chimeras who were gaining on their vulnerable forms rather rapidly. Peter glanced over his shoulder, praying that Tony would be okay on his own, then dashed to the people's aid. Apparently these morons hadn't gotten the memo about staying indoors. His feet pounded against the pavement with an unnatural agility as his advanced muscles propelled his body forwards, eyes locked on the five targets ahead.
Just before he collided with the people on the ground, Spider-Man jumped sideways and landed against the wall on their left. With the world moving in slow motion around him, he fired both of his web-shooters at the same time, pressing down hard against his palms, which sent two strands of bio-cable zipping from his skin and latching onto the two men closest to him. In a split second, he detached these strands from his wrists, held onto them with his thumbs and forefingers, then shot a second pair of web-lines from his web-shooters, which snaked past the first two teens and grabbed onto the fellows on the far right side of the street, causing them to gasp. The urgency of the situation escalated as Peter realized that the two parties of chimeras—the mob to the south and the swarm that Stark was engaged with—were about to sandwich the terrified civilians in between. With all four web strands gripped firmly in his fists, Spider-Man whipped the fearful men off the ground and into the air, making them cry out in surprise. As they soared upwards, Peter flipped to the top of the building, bending his knees low against the sideways surface once they'd reached their peaks, then sprang off the wall towards their falling forms. With a quartet of sequential thuds, Peter tackled the teenagers as they tumbled through the air, sending all six of them rolling across the roof of the building on the opposite side of the street. Spider-Man slid against the concrete surface, feeling the rough texture scrape across his skin, before finally coming to a stop. The insanity took a moment to subside, and once the fact that they all weren't dead had settled, they sprawled across the rooftop, chests heaving up and down as they fought to catch their breaths and wide eyes staring blankly at the dark sky above. Peter sat up slowly, shaking his head a bit, then looked over at the five figures lying in messy heaps beside him, his palms flat against the rooftop.
"Are you all okay?" he asked unsteadily, relieved as they began to rise as well, groaning and mumbling and breathing in ragged gulps of air. One of them was still collapsed face-down, however, and the guy who had been carrying him scrambled to his side.
"Al!" the teenager cried, rolling him over and lifting up his head. "Hey, Al! Are you alright?"
The boy's eyes were shut tight in agony, and he moaned between his teeth. Peter crawled up beside the two of them.
"What happened to him?" he asked carefully, crouching next to the pale teen lying in the other guy's arms.
"One of those things bit him," he answered with a shaky tone to his voice. He slowly lifted up the boy's shirt, which Peter realized was stained red, revealing the terrible wound underneath. A deep, jagged opening was torn through the flesh of his stomach, causing Peter to grimace. The boy needed serious medical attention, fast.
"Alphonse! Answer me, dammit!" He whipped around to face Peter, becoming frantic. "Hey. You're Spider-Man, right? You save people. Please, save my brother's life! He's not moving! Is he dead? Please, help him!"
Peter felt terror rise into his throat. He was in no way trained to handle something like this, what with his only knowledge of the medical field being the scattered facts his aunt had shared with him about her nursing job every now and then. But from what he could see, the boy was definitely in danger of bleeding to death. He swallowed strenuously, teeth gritted. "Don't yell so loud," Peter told him quietly, trying to stay calm. "He's—he's breathing. He's alive, for the moment. But he needs help from a doctor as soon as possible. We don't have much time."
Just then, Tony Stark came flying up from the horrible scene below, landing on the roof and causing the other teens to flinch away in fear. He shook his head from side to side, placing a hand on his hip.
"It's no use," he sighed, his voice edgy and muffled. "There's too many of them. They just keep coming and coming. We need the others." He noticed the limp boy lying beside Peter. His mask flipped off his face. "Hey, what's wrong with the kid?"
"He was bitten by a chimera," Peter informed him, the words feeling like poison in his mouth. "He's going to die if he doesn't get help."
Stark knelt down beside him and rolled up his shirt, his brow narrowing deeply. "Damn," he hissed upon seeing the gory wound. He stared at it for a moment longer, then set his jaw."It's not deep enough to have caused any internal damage, but the blood loss alone could kill him." He pressed his metal fingers around the injury, causing the boy to cry out in pain. "There's a large chunk of flesh missing, which means we can't stitch it back together." There was a pause as he pondered what to do, well-aware of how desperate their situation was and how bad of shape the teen was in. Finally, he let out a begrudging sigh. "The way I see it, our best option to stop the bleeding is to cauterize the wound."
Peter went stiff upon hearing that, his lips parting slightly in disbelief, but the injured boy's brother beat him to it.
"You mean you're going to burn his wound shut?" he practically spat, wrapping his arms around him defensively. "You can't do that! He'll die from the pain!"
"He'll black out before he dies from it!" Tony insisted earnestly. "And it's the only chance he has. Tell me, do you want me to do what I have to do to save his life, or do you want me to do nothing and let him die?"
A terrified glint entered the boy's eyes, and he stared down at his brother's sickly face with a look of dread. Peter felt awful for the young man as he realized what a terrible decision he was being faced with, when a metal hand suddenly laid on his shoulder, and he glanced up.
"Spidey, I got this. You've got to go tell the others what's happening here. Now."
Peter was taken back. "What?" he said abruptly, rising to his feet. "No. I'm not just going to leave you all here like this. Not now."
"No, that's exactly what you're going to do," Stark stated adamantly. "The chimeras are in the center of the city, Pete. We need the Avengers here, defending home, not out fighting along the perimeter. And there's no way we can defeat all of these things on our own."
Peter balled his fists at his sides. "I can't just abandon you all here! I'm not going anywhere!"
"You're not any help just standing there like a useless idiot, or trying to fight those freaks all alone," Stark snapped, glaring at him fiercely, "and neither are the others where they are right now. So, just to make things clear, I'm not asking, I am ordering you, Peter, to go right now and get the rest of the Avengers and bring them here before more people end up like this guy, or worse. Got that? Right. Now."
Spider-Man gritted his teeth behind his mask as he fought to conjure up some other excuse, but he knew he was only kidding himself. As much as hated to admit it, Stark was right—they needed the others if they wanted any chance to stop this invasion from getting worse. His presence here wouldn't do them any good. They needed the numbers. The casualties were surely piling up by the second. If the chimeras were moving through the sewers, just as Doc Connors had as the Lizard, that meant that they could escape through any sort of plumbing, which meant that no one, not even the people hiding indoors, were safe anymore. Peter stared down at the injured teen, who was breathing weakly in his brother's arms, then released a slow, defeated sigh.
"Fine," he muttered, turning around with his fists still clenched, "I'll go." Peter marched over to the edge of the rooftop, his feet barely peeking over the side. "But you guys better still be alive when I get back, alright?"
Stark alit a small blown torch from the tip of his finger. "Will do, Spidey. Now shoo shoo."
The dense sea of chimeras below swarmed through the streets, screeching in deranged insanity. The manhole cover he had sealed shut had by now been breached, and even more creatures were bleeding from that opening as well. He swallowed nervously as he watched them skitter out like fire ants from a hill, then glanced over his shoulder once more. When he saw that Tony was moving the flame toward the boy's injury, however, he quickly turned away again, his face growing hot. He couldn't bring himself to watch.
"I'll be back ASAP," he murmured quietly, and with a steadying breath, Peter leapt off the roof and fired a web at the building on his right, whipping around it with fantastic speed. He flew high above the infested world below, watching the chimeras scurry far underfoot, and made sure to swing out of range of their slashing talons and foaming jaws. He jolted midair when a bloodcurdling scream suddenly met his ears, and he realized that it was probably the result of Stark tending to the injured teen's wound. The sound sent shudders down Peter's spine and caused his heart to ache with guilt, but he didn't turn back. He had his own mission to worry about.
Webbing zipped from his wrists as he sped down the street. He somersaulted sideways, sprinted across the wall of a police station for a short distance, then leapt forward and rounded the corner on a single web strand. Just a few more blocks east, and he'd be there. Or wait, was it west? Should he have made that turn back there? Or was it this one? Peter rolled through the air and landed on a flagpole, his sticky fingers curling around its skinny shape. He breathed slowly for a moment, listening to the star-spangled banner snap in the icy wind above his head, then stared around, trying to gain his bearings. This street looked familiar. Yes, this was the way he and Stark had come from. The others were just down that road, behind that fat building. Far in the distance, through the blanket of night, he swore he could see the peak of the Oscorp tower. To be certain, Spider-Man closed his eyes and focused his highly sensitive ears in that direction. The sounds of a battle raging on came flooding upon him: bodies crunching, fists pounding, arrows flying, the Hulk roaring furiously, and the strangled shrieks of chimeras in agony. He crawled higher up the pole and crouched low against its surface, preparing to launch off towards his comrades and deliver them the alarming news, when Peter's spidey sense suddenly buzzed in his skull. He glanced to the left, where he found what appeared to be an apartment complex. A rooftop pool was installed into the penthouse floor, which glowed a mystic blue through the darkness. A young boy was sitting poolside playing with some toys, seeing that it was much too cold to get in the water, but nonetheless enjoying himself. He couldn't have been more than six years old. And climbing up the wall of the building and onto the roof was an enormous chimera, its thick tail thrashing from side to side and its claws digging into the brick. The boy was completely unaware of the beast as it crawled up behind him and barred its hideous fangs. Peter flung himself towards the rooftop.
"Gangway!" he yelled boisterously, firing a web and sticking his legs out in front of his body. Spider-Man slammed his feet into the chimera's ribs and sent it flying sideways before swinging low, reaching down, and scooping the boy right off the roof. The boy yelped in surprise from the sudden impact and dropped his toys as Peter spun through the air and landed against the wall, sticking there with his free hand holding them in place. The chimera roared as it crashed through the glass walls surrounding the rooftop and went flying off the edge, clearly upset that its meal had been apprehended. Sighing with relief, Peter looked down at the kid he held, who was squirming and crying.
"Help!" he screamed, kicking his feet. "Mommy! Daddy! Help!"
"Hey, it's okay," Peter told him gently, trying to keep him from wriggling out of his grip. "It's okay. Just relax." He glanced down at the ground and noticed one of the kid's toys lying there, so he fired a web-line from his wrist that snatched it up and into his hand. He was surprised to see that it was a Spider-Man action figure, although it was McDonald's-happy-meal quality. He held it up in front of him.
"Look. Is this yours?" he asked. The terrified kid's eyes were wet with tears and his cheeks were flushed red, but he took notice of the toy and blinked. He sniffled a little bit, wiping his nose, then lifted his gaze to look up at Spider-Man.
"Yes."
Peter smiled. "Here. Take it."
After a moment of hesitation, the kid slowly reached out and took the toy from him.
"Sorry for the scare, buddy. I was just trying to keep you safe from that thing."
The boy's eyes switched between Peter, the action figure, and then back to Peter. He could see the wheel's turning in his head as his eyebrows narrowed together and his lower lip stuck out. He stared at him a moment longer, then finally spoke.
"Are…is this you?" he asked quietly, his small fingers clutching tight to the toy. Peter chuckled slightly and nodded.
"Yeah. That's me." He shifted the boy more comfortably into the crook of his arm. "What's your name?"
The fear in his eyes faded a bit. "Dawson."
Peter gave him a light pat on the back. "Nice to meet you, Dawson. I'm Spider-Man."
A genuine smile spread across Dawson's face, and Peter couldn't help but return it. No matter how many encounters like this he had, the sincerity of kids never ceased to amaze him.
"Daddy told me you left."
A tinge of guilt pricked him upon hearing that.
"He said you had to leave, and that you weren't coming back," he explained. "I was…really sad. I was scared that I'd never see you saving people anymore." Then he grinned. "But you came back! I knew he was just kidding. I knew you wouldn't leave us." He gazed up at him, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Thank you for coming back!"
Spider-Man hadn't considered how his presumed death might have affected the citizens of New York, not to mention all the little kids who looked up to him. Despite being accused by the media as a menace, despite the fact that all of his endeavors to protect the city always seemed to end in failure, Spider-Man had been branded with the title of a hero, even being called a beacon of hope for the city, and he had to own up to that. He couldn't just hide behind a lie to keep undesired eyes from tracking his movements. Granted, his sick days spent in Stark Tower couldn't have been helped, but choosing to keep his miraculous survival a secret from the public had been selfish. Whether he liked it or not, there were lots of kids out there like Dawson who depended on him. He'd keep fighting, for their sake.
Peter ruffled Dawson's hair. "No, kid. Thank you."
"Dawson?" a woman's voice suddenly cried out. "Dawson, are you okay?"
"You alright, bud?" another called, this one more masculine. The doors that led inside the penthouse opened up from underneath them, and Peter saw the tops of two heads come into view. As soon as they stepped onto the empty rooftop, they both gasped.
"W-where is he?" the woman screamed, cupping her hands over her mouth. She glanced left and right, but her son was nowhere to be found. "Dawson? Dawson! Where are you?"
"I'm up here, mommy!" Dawson yelled down to them, waving his arms around and causing Peter to stiffen. The boy's parents whirled around in unison, their muscles tight, until both of their gazes slowly rose to find their son in the arms of a certain masked vigilante, who was sticking to the wall about ten feet above their heads. Their eyes went wide.
"Well, this is kinda awkward…" Peter murmured, although he couldn't help but grin when he saw how proud Dawson looked as he beamed down at his parents, smiling from ear to ear. The two of them, however, did not look so pleased.
"Spider-Man?" the father said, gaping in dim confusion. "What on Earth? Aren't you supposed to be...?"
"What do you think you're doing with my son?" his mom yelled, pointing up at him threateningly. "Put him down right now! Or I'll—I'll call the police!"
Peter swallowed uneasily. "Please don't shout," he asked with a pleading tone, crawling slowly down the wall with the kid in hand. And that wouldn't work anyway. "I was just trying to protect him from—"
Just then, the chimera slithered back on top of the roof, its thick claws digging into the stonework and its eyes thirsting for revenge. Peter gasped out loud as it crept up behind the furious parents, and he knew he had to act fast.
"Look out!" he cried, dropping from the wall and placing Dawson on the ground hastily. A startled expression spread across both the parents' faces as Peter sprinted straight towards them. The chimera lunged at the back of their heads, but Spider-Man was faster. He leapt between them and tackled the beast's thick body just before it reached their ignorant forms, inciting a roar to escape the creature. The two slammed into the ground, skidding for a moment, right as the parents spun around to discover the horrifying beast that had nearly killed them all. The mother screamed, the dad gawked, and their son stood awe-stricken as they all watched skinny little Spider-Man take on the enormous monster. The chimera bellowed in rage and dug its claws into Spider-Man's back, causing him to cry out in pain. It grabbed him up in its huge fist and flung him like a rag doll, which sent him careening into the brick wall. His body left a crack in its surface, and he slid to the ground, groaning. The blurry family stared down at him in terror.
"G-get inside," he ordered them, taking a moment to rise to his feet. He jabbed his finger behind his shoulder indignantly. "All of you, now! Go!"
They didn't need to be told twice. The dad gathered up his son and wife and dragged all three of them into the house, leaving just Spidey and the chimera together on the rooftop. Peter stumbled forwards, breathing heavily.
The chimera had a startlingly close resemblance to the Lizard, which gave Peter chills. Its muscly body towered over his six-foot self, and its skin looked thick and impenetrable. Triangular scales jutted out of its spine from the back of its head all the way until the very tip of its trunk-like tail, which dragged across the floor as it slunk about. Its hands and feet were webbed and armed with menacing claws, and its skin was scaly and grayish-brown. The reptilian eyes now set high into its head leered clean through Peter's reflective lenses, and its mouth had been elongated into a pair of enormous jaws, where blood-stained teeth peeked out from behind its lips. Somehow, this one seemed different from the others—stronger, larger, and its body and mind much more overcome by the animal it had been mixed with. It was a cross-species between a man and an alligator, and it looked hungry for a Spidey-sized side dish. Peter crouched low to the ground, grinning nervously behind his mask.
"Come on, ugly," he taunted, flipping back onto the wall. "I don't have time to play right now."
The chimera shrieked viciously and charged forward, running much faster than Peter expected it to. Just to add to his disbelief, the creature began crawling right up the wall after him with no trouble whatsoever. Peter scrambled backwards in surprise then sprang forwards, rolling along the ground and glancing up.
"Since when can alligators climb things?" he whined, crossing his arms. "I think Animal Planet has been lying to me all these years. And hey, wall-crawling is my shtick! You start shooting webs from your wrists and I'll sue!"
Roaring in frustration, the chimera leapt off the wall and landed roughly on the roof, and Spidey sprang to the right just before it squished him. All jokes aside, he had to end this, and fast. The family inside needed to be safe, and he had to tell the others to go help Stark downtown. Spider-Man shot webbing into the chimera's eyes before bolting towards him and landing a punch against his plated stomach. The creature growled furiously and slashed about blindly with its claws, but Peter was too quick for him. He dropped low to the ground and swung his calves against its thick ankles, causing it to stumble, before zipping between its legs and jumping onto its back, which he clung onto for dear life. The chimera ripped the webbing from its eyes, screeching, then tried to snatch the finicky spider off its back. Spidey ducked and dodged as the clawed hands made a grab for him, his strong arms wrapped tight around the beast's throat, until the alligator finally got smart. A horrible pain suddenly stabbed into his forearms as the creature dug its claws into his flesh, and Peter released his grip with a yelp. He rolled off the scaly back and landed in a crouch, rubbing at his bleeding arms crossly.
"Geez, bro. Two words: nail clippers."
The chimera spun around, its beady eyes soulless and vicious. Without a moment of hesitation, it darted forward and leapt at his small form, and he jumped into the air. Peter pushed off its ugly mug with his feet, then spun his body and connected his heel with the creature's cheek. The impact was powerful, but not enough. Recovering quickly, the chimera lashed at him with a snap of its jaws that rang in Peter's ears. The jagged set of pink teeth narrowly missed his leg, which would've torn his flesh to bits. Spidey dropped to the floor and backflipped to avoid being gator grub, becoming increasingly impatient.
"I don't have all damn night," he growled, and dashed at him once more. With a yell, Peter uppercutted the chimera in the jaw, hearing a violent crack vibrate against his fist, then felt a claw rake across his shoulder and send him flying sideways. He landed roughly against the floor but was up in an instant, flipping to the left and kicking the creature in the leg. It roared and slashed at him, limping a bit, and he rolled out of the way. Peter jumped and spun at the same time, jabbing his heel against the chimera's chin, when his spidey sense suddenly rang inside his skull. Spider-Man turned his head to see a humongous tail flying straight towards him. In an attempt to avoid it, he twisted his body in the air, but the tail swung low and met him after gravity had taken its cruel effect. With a grunt, the tail slammed into his gut and sent him flying backwards. He expected to crash into the unforgiving concrete yet again, but what happened instead was so much worse.
To his horror, Spider-Man flew back and dropped right into the pool with a painful splash. His gasp of shock was quickly transformed into a choked gurgle as he sunk deep into the freezing water. Upon impact, his muscles instantly froze up and the icy liquid penetrated his spidey suit, soaking him to the bone. He had never been so cold before in his life. But, coming to his senses, he forced his stiff arms to sweep through the water and propel him toward the surface. Just before he could reach it, however, a shadow descended over him, and his eyes went wide.
The alligator chimera suddenly crashed into the water in an explosion of bubbles and landed right on top of Spider-Man, roaring into his face. Peter's heart nearly leapt out of his chest, and he tried to kick the beast off of him, but to no avail. A claw ripped through the skin of his forehead and grabbed onto shoulders, but he wrenched away and swam sideways like a madman, kicking off the creature frantically. He made a grab for the side of the pool, but an arm wrapped around his torso and pulled him back, making him gurgle in surprise. His spidey sense buzzed as a pair of jaws snapped by his ear, which he barely dodged with a jerk of his head, but the creature still had him. The ends of the chimera's claws dug into his belly before he finally managed to squirm free, and a sudden fear began to well inside him. This was not his turf anymore. The difference between a spider's and an alligator's mobility and deadliness in the water was drastically uneven. He was at the disadvantage.
Peter spun through the water as he flew sideways, his limbs flailing a bit before he came to a slow drift. He opened his eyes behind his mask, his vision burry and unfocused, but adequate enough to take in the dark form rocketing towards him with its tail scissoring powerfully behind its body. Spider-Man yelped in terror and whirled around. Dropping low, Peter pushed off the bottom with all his spidey strength and zipped towards the surface. The shimmery escape was so tantalizingly close, so beckoning to burst free from. But just inches before his fingers could poke into the outside world, a clawed hand grabbed onto his foot and refused to let go. Peter kicked his legs and flailed his arms, but it was useless. With one quick yank, Spider-Man was dragged back down deep into the frigid waters, his hands grappling at the empty space in front of him. The alligator chimera suddenly seized him by the throat and slammed him against the bottom of the pool, causing his ears to pop and his head to whip backwards painfully. Peter squirmed and kicked and fought to break free of the claws coiled around his neck, but even when he felt the beast's fingers snap underneath his own, they did not release him. Screeching into his face, the chimera slammed its feet down against Spider-Man's legs, trapping him firmly against the bottom of the pool. At that moment, an unsurpassed panic suddenly boiled up inside him. He needed air. He needed air. He was going to die if he didn't get air right now. His starved lungs burned inside his chest, and he let out a gasp, but that only made things worse as his throat flooded with water. Peter thrashed left and right as a last ditch-effort to escape, his screaming muffled, but all his energy was gone. Black dots began to invade his eyes, and he felt his body begin to shut down.
No! he thought desperately as the grip around his neck tightened. Help! Please! Someone…help…
He needed air, but he couldn't get it. The surface high above glittered beckoningly. Consciousness began to fade into nonexistence.
SPLASH!
Huh…?
BANG. BANG. BANG.
A figure had jumped into the water, followed by the popping of gunfire that sounded distant to Peter. A roar gurgled out from the chimera as trails of blood snaked from its head, and the iron grip once seizing Peter's throat suddenly went slack. Before Spider-Man's dazed mind could even comprehend what was happening, a dark form had fallen over him, and a pair of arms wrapped around his body. With a kick off the bottom, the figure dragged Spider-Man upwards and burst from the water's surface before lugging him to the edge of the pool.
"Help him out," the man told his wife breathlessly. She rushed over to the two of them and wrapped her arms underneath Spider-Man's armpits, then lifted him out of the pool and laid his limp body on the ground. The father pulled himself out of the pool close behind, flung the gun out of the way, and unzipped his wet suit with haste.
"Is he dead?" Dawson asked fearfully from the doorway, his fists covering his mouth.
Peter let out a strangled moan. Perking up at the sound, the woman sat down beside him quickly. Her husband joined her moments later, shivering a bit in the icy wind. With urgency in his movements, the man laid his hands against Spider-Man's chest and delivered one sharp press with the heels of his wrists, which forced the water out of his lungs. Peter choked, then hacked, until finally he sprung back to life, and his eyes popped open before his body was racked into a violent coughing fit. Pool water gurgled out of his throat with every painful cough, and he rolled onto his stomach, pulling his mask up past his nose and balling his fists against the ground as he fought to breathe. The couple jumped back in surprise, then sighed in relief as the life was restored to the skinny hero. The feeling of frigid air finally entering his exhausted lungs was the most glorious pain Peter could imagine, and he had to force himself to slow his breathing down as he gulped the wonderful oxygen into his system. He was alive. He hadn't drowned. But…how? As his agonized coughing slowly began to lessen in intensity, he felt someone pat him on the back, which startled him at first. But once he found the touch to be gentle and comforting, he relaxed slightly, although his muscles were still terribly stiff.
"Are you alright, Spider-Man?" a deep voice asked him from above. He blinked a few times, not sure how to answer, and unable to speak as he sucked air through his mouth in ragged gasps.
"Calm down, take slow breaths," the woman instructed him sternly. "Are—are you okay?"
Peter sat on his hands and knees, a feeling of deja vu becoming apparent to him as his chest heaved mightily, until he finally managed to form his painful gasping into words.
"Y-yeah…I'm okay." He coughed into the ground, spitting up more water. "You all…?"
"We're fine, thanks to you," the husband said gratefully, kneeling down beside him. "Although I think we can call it even between us, since I jumped in and saved you from that thing."
Oh, Peter thought hazily, that's how.
He shook his head disapprovingly. "Shouldn't…have. T-told you to wait inside."
The man laughed out loud. "Don't you be going trying to order this old veteran around, even if you are that famous spider guy." He rubbed at his chin and squinted a bit. "But…I thought Spider-Man was killed by that freaky green thing."
Peter chuckled weakly. "Yeah. Sorry for the confusion. My d-death was a bit…exaggerated."
Dawson's father smiled. "Well, I'm glad. This city has missed you. Especially my boy." Then he smirked. "Although, if pulling stunts like this is a regular thing for you, I can't vouch for how long you'll be sticking around."
Peter snorted at that, but a furious voice suddenly interrupted their banter.
"Would you stop joking about this?" the woman scoffed, her hands on her hips. "This guy nearly got himself killed trying to protect us, and you could've died jumping in after that thing! I swear, you all are going to give me a damn heart attack!" Shaking her head, she stooped down beside him, her eyes full of concern. "How badly are you injured?"
Pretty bad, Peter thought as the claw marks scored across his body burned like fire in the icy breeze, but he forced a cheerful tone into his voice.
"Nothing m-major," he assured her unconvincingly. He tried to move his limbs and rise to his feet just to prove his point, but his whole body felt numb. The freezing water seemed to have sapped all the heat from his bones, and the sopping fabric clinging to his skin made it that much worse. His muscles felt frozen stiff. This was most definitely not the time of year to be taking a swim. A frigid gust of wind suddenly whipped past all of them, buffeting their hunched forms and sending shivers quaking across Peter's wet skin and aching body.
"Don't lie to me," she snapped, eyeing the deep gouges slashed through his back. "You're hurt. You need a doctor, and to get out of this cold weather." Without asking his permission, the woman snaked her arm around his midsection, despite the fact that he was soaked, and began to help him stand up.
"Let me help!" an excited voice suddenly exclaimed. Dawson came running out of the apartment, dressed in a miniature doctor's outfit with a plastic first-aid kit in hand. He sprinted to his side, panting loudly, and wrapped his arm around Peter's back as well, although he was hardly tall enough to reach. His mother gave him a fierce look, but Peter only chuckled between his chattering teeth.
"Thanks, Dawson," he told him, finally rising to his feet. "Both of you. I'm g-grateful for the help. But I don't have time for a p-patch job. I have to go help the others. They're fighting the rest of these things."
A pair of hands suddenly pushed him forwards from behind, forcing his rigid legs to move. "Don't give me any of that crap," the man said smugly as the family led him inside. "What are you going to do in your condition? Do that little web-slingy thing you do and try to fight more of those freaks? You'll only injure yourself more, or worse. That or succumb to hypothermia."
As Peter unwillingly entered the house, the rush of warm air against his shivering body felt heavenly. Despite this, he gritted his teeth behind his mask. "You don't understand. My teammates c-could be dying right now, along with hundreds of others. I have to go help them."
"You can go help them in just a little bit," Dawson's mother assured him, shutting the door after everyone had come inside. "But first, you're going to let us help you. You really need to go to the hospital, but since you're clearly too stubborn to let us take you there, we'll make do with what we have here."
A shivery Spidey was led over to a fancy-looking couch in the center of the room. The two laid him down on the plush cushions even though he was soaking wet and bleeding profusely. Despite his efforts to stop it, he continued to tremble violently, and his body was, once again, fighting to heal the plethora of gashes and claw marks striped across his flesh, along with his previous injuries which he had yet to fully recover from.
"Here," Dawson's father said, coming out of the laundry room with a stack of towels in his arms. He placed them on the coffee table as his wife took one and spread it over Peter's shivering form. It was warm and soft, like it had just been taken out of the dryer, and he wrapped it around himself tightly, trying to absorb as much of the heat as possible.
"Thanks," he told them, feeling a bit out of place in their luxuriously decorated home, especially considering his ridiculous attire and the fact that he was leaving bloodstains all over their lovely couch. The woman smiled at him, then she and her husband disappeared down the hall to retrieve the first aid kit. Peter watched them go, and after a moment of deliberation, he released a shaky sigh of defeat, and decided begrudgingly to stick around for a couple minutes just to catch a quick breather. Then he'd ditch this place to deliver the message and jump back into the bloodbath.
Just then, a small blonde kid popped up right in front of his face, making him jump with a start.
"Hello, Mr. Spider-Man," Dawson said, trying to sound professional despite the giddiness to his tone. "It appears you need a doctor. Lucky for you, I am the best doctor in the world."
The boy was still donning the fun-sized scrubs, along with a pair of rubber gloves. He grinned up at him, waiting for a response. Peter took a moment to pick up on the game.
"Oh," he replied, laughing slightly, "I see. Well, ahem, Dr. Dawson, it does seem that I'm feeling a bit under the weather. What would you recommend?"
Dawson pulled a stethoscope out from underneath his shirt collar. "Let me give you a check-up to make sure you're healthy," he told him confidently. He stuck the headset into his ears, moved the towel out of the way, then gently laid the the cold instrument against Spider-Man's marred chest, and he bit his tongue to keep from whimpering. Dawson moved it around a bit, pretending to be listening intently, then nodded.
"I can hear your heart beating," he assured him, wrapping the stethoscope up in a tangled mess.
Peter sighed heavily. "Well that's a relief."
"Now we have to test your strength," he explained, crawling onto the couch beside him. "Since you're a superhero, you have to be strong! So, to make sure you are super strong, the doctor asks you to pick him up to." With that, Dawson held out his arms and stared up at him expectantly.
Peter chuckled with amusement. "Alright, if the doctor insists," he said, and despite the agony it caused him, Peter scooped the boy into his arms and held him way high up. Dawson giggled with joy, kicking his feet and balling his small hands into fists.
"You think that's fun?" Peter asked him, a playfully sinister tone entering his voice. "Well how about this?" Spider-Man threw him high into the air, making the kid's head almost touch the ceiling. Dawson shrieked with laughter, his eyes wide and his limbs flailing, until Peter caught him on his way back down. He knew he should probably be resting, seeing as his deep scratches were screaming with every movement, but the pain was worth seeing that giant smile spread across the little kid's beaming face. He'd never realized just how much he loved children until now.
"Again!" Dawson demanded, holding out his arms pleadingly. Peter ruffled the boy's messy hair.
"Maybe later," he told him, not wanting to accidentally drop the kid if his stiff muscles didn't respond properly. Or, you know, send him flying through the roof. "Is there anything else Spidey needs to get checked?"
He pouted disappointedly for a moment, staring at the floor with his arms loose at his sides. Then, just as instantly, the boy's face suddenly brightened.
"Your Spider-Man powers have to be tested too!" he insisted, scrambling off the couch and grabbing him by the hand. Peter laughed lightly, gritting his teeth as the energetic kid pulled him to his feet, and allowed himself to be dragged across the room and over to the wall. "Here—test to make sure you can still climb things!"
"You're a demanding little tike, aren't you?" Peter noted amusedly, but went ahead and laid his palms flat against the wall. The sticky fibers on his fingertips gripped tightly to the smooth surface, and he crawled up the wall with ease, inducing an excited gasp from the boy below.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed, dashing back and forth across the floor restlessly. "They're working! Look how high you are! Whoa!"
Spider-Man crept all the way up the wall and onto the ceiling, stopping in the center in a crouched position, then stared down at the gaping boy with a smile on his face. The kid looked completely star-struck, and he wondered if that's what he had looked like when he had met Tony Stark for the first time. He seriously hoped not.
"Can you teach me how to climb walls?" Dawson begged, his hands clasped together. Peter chuckled and shook his head.
"Afraid not, bud," he told him regrettably. Spider-Man aimed his wrist between his feet and fired a strand of webbing from his web-shooter, then slowly began to descend from the ceiling on the single thread until he sat just above Dawson's head. "It's not something that can be taught. It's just a power that I have. Like how, you know, caterpillars have the power to turn into butterflies, and plants have the power to make their own food. Get it?"
"Oh," Dawson answered, lowering his head. "I get it." That look of utter disappointment blanketed his face once more, and his shoulders slumped pathetically. Peter cocked his head to the side, wondering how he could cheer him up, and an idea quickly came to him.
"Well…" he mused, pretending to be in deep thought, "I can't make you climb walls. But there is a way I can make you feel what it's like to be Spider-Man, if only for a little bit."
Dawson perked up instantly. "Really?" he asked, his eyes wide. "How?"
In response, Peter pressed down on his palm gently and shot a web-line from his web-shooter, which stuck onto Dawson's back. The boy gasped in surprise, and with a chuckle, Peter crawled back up his web, bringing Dawson with him, and stuck the end of the web that was attached to Dawson onto the ceiling. The boy now dangled high above the ground on the web strand, laughing jubilantly and flapping his arms.
"Holy cow!" he yelled as he stared down at the floor. "Now I'm super high up!"
Peter descended beside him on his own bio-cable. "I'm impressed, Spider-Dawson," he told him, injecting his voice with enthusiasm. "Most kids would be scared to be so high in the air."
Dawson placed his hands on his hips. "Not me! Nothing scares Spider-Dawson!"
Peter gave the kid a gentle push with his foot so that he swung slightly from side to side. "Not even a little scared?" he asked him, but the motion only led to Dawson giggling excessively and hugging his tummy, which contagiously led to Peter laughing. How bizarre it was that the world outside was at war, yet here Spider-Man was, having the most fun he'd had in awhile with some random kid on the ceiling. He wondered if this was what it was like to have a little brother. In that moment, he forgot all about the duty he had to the Avengers and the city, and wished it could stay that way.
"I've got the alcohol," a woman's voice suddenly called, and he glanced down to see her coming around the corner, "darling, do you have the—?" she began, then stopped when she walked into an empty living room, blinking in confusion. "Wait…where did they…?"
"Up here!" Dawson hollered from above, who was spinning in circles on his web and giggling uncontrollably. His mother glanced up in alarm, her hand over her chest.
"Dear Lord…" she began to say, then shifted her gaze over to Spider-Man, who was hanging from the ceiling beside her son and swaying a bit. Upon seeing the shock on her face, he laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Dr. Dawson was testing to make sure my spidey powers still worked," he tried to explain, stopping the spinning kid with his foot.
"That's Dr. Spider-Dawson to you!" he corrected him with a wide grin on his face. "And according to my professional opinion, they are working just fine!"
The boy's father joined them a moment later, and to Peter's surprise, he laughed out loud when he saw the two boys hanging from the ceiling. "I'd say you're more of a circus clown than a doctor, buddy," he told him as he carried the hefty first-aid kit that was on his shoulder into the room and set it on the floor. His wife, however, did not appear as amused.
"That looks dangerous," she told them, crossing her arms. "And what do you think you're doing, Spider-Man? You should be lying down. For heaven's sake, look at you—you're dripping blood onto the carpet!"
It was then that Peter noticed the drops of blood seeping from his wounds and leaving flecks of red on the floor far beneath him. "Oh," he said surprisedly, blinking his eyes behind his mask. "I…sorry about that, ma'am. I didn't mean to—"
"Please don't call me ma'am," she groaned, placing the bottle of alcohol on the coffee table. "You're making me feel like an old lady. I'm Judith Stevens, but please just call me Judith."
"And I'm Marcus Stevens," her husband added.
"And don't worry about the carpet," she continued as she stared up at them. "That's the least of my concerns. Just get back down here so we can fix you up."
Peter nodded obediently, slightly impressed that they were so unfazed by his rather infamous reputation as Spider-Man that they were perfectly fine with ordering him around. He wasn't sure if he should take that as a comfort or an insult. Seeing that they were living in a penthouse with a rooftop pool, it was safe to assume that they were relatively wealthy, so maybe they were used to being around celebrities (if that's what you'd call him) and weren't easily intimidated. Whatever their reasonings, it was a pleasant change from his commonplace civilian encounters, and he appreciated the feeling of being treated like a regular human being instead of some kind of immaterial superstar. With careful movements, Peter crawled over to a dangling Dawson, plucked his giggly form from his perch, and descended back down to the floor. He placed Dawson on the ground, giving his hair a ruffle, until Mr. Stevens pushed him back onto the couch rather roughly, causing him to stumble in surprise.
"Now, you're going to lie here like a good little hero and let me clean your wounds," he told him, sitting at his side and pouring some alcohol on a cloth.
"And you're going to let me bandage you up when he's finished," his wife followed as she unwound a roll of gauze, "alright?"
The man pressed him flat against the couch, making him wince. "You're not really giving me a choice here," Peter murmured, but went ahead and laid on his tummy with his arms crossed under his head. "Just make it quick."
"We'll try," Mr. Stevens said amusedly, and began wiping the deep claw marks that decorated the skinny hero's back with the saturated cloth. He couldn't suppress the groans of pain that crept into his throat as the alcohol seeped into his flesh and stung like hell, and he clenched his fists tightly. Mr. Stevens continued to dress his wounds without mercy, however, obviously accustomed to dealing with gore from his time spent in the military.
"Oh, don't be such a baby," he told him, although the concern in his eyes betrayed his words. The slices in the vigilante's skin were terribly jagged and deep, and despite the fact that they were already trying to close up, they really needed some stitches to heal properly. He noticed that the array of cuts on his body criss-crossed over each other, as if he had only recently recovered from old injuries. This guy had obviously been through a lot.
"What exactly was that thing I shot out there?" he asked him quietly, dabbing at the puncture wounds on his arms. "We heard the news that there was some kind of attack on New York and that we should all stay inside, but I didn't know it was by a bunch of freakish monsters."
"And how many more of them are there?" his wife added, proceeding to bind his forearm in gauze.
Peter sat silently for a moment, pondering his words. "It was a cross-species," he finally replied, his eyes shut tight in agony, "created by Oscorp in their attempts to create some kind of super-soldiers. As you can tell, however, they only ended up turning a bunch of people into hundreds of mindless murdering machines."
"And you're going to try to fight all of them?" Mrs. Stevens inquired with fear in her voice.
Spider-Man shrugged passively. "That's the plan."
A hand grabbed onto his shoulder and turned him forcefully on to his back, making him grimace feebly. Dumping more alcohol onto the rag, Mr. Stevens continued by cleaning the cuts on his belly, and Peter gritted his teeth.
"You're going to get yourself killed," he said coldly, sliding the rag between the tears in his damp Spider-Man suit.
"Heard that one before," Peter chuckled strenuously as his fingers dug into the couch cushions. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I've cheated death once already, so I'm pretty sure I can handle anything else." He turned his head to look over at Dawson, who was sitting on the floor wrestling with the webbing that was still stuck to the back of his shirt while giggling. "You just worry about keeping yourselves and your son safe. These things are dangerous, and I don't want him or anyone else getting hurt. He's a good kid."
Mr. Stevens smiled. "He is, isn't he?" he agreed, swabbing the claw marks on his ankles. "Don't you be worrying about us. I'll make sure he's safe." Then, eyeing his son who was rolling across the floor, a smirk suddenly played across his lips. "It's too bad you're a infamous vigilante, Spider-Man. You'd make a good babysitter for us on the weekends, and I'm sure Dawson would prefer you over 80-year-old Ms. Carrie across the hallway."
Dawson's head popped up as soon as his dad said this. "Yes!" he yelled, scrambling to his feet. "Please, Spider-Man? Please come instead of Ms. Carrie? All she ever talks about is her cats and she makes me eat carrots!"
Peter laughed amusedly. "Maybe sometime, bud. I'm on a pretty tight schedule at the moment though, so it'll have to be later."
"You're pretty good with children," Mrs. Stevens noted, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Well, minus the fact that you hang them from the ceiling on your web-things. Dawson did get a kick out of it, though." She began to wound some gauze around his ankle. "Do you have any kids of your own?"
Peter almost choked. "N-no ma'am," he managed to stutter, laughing nervously and feeling his cheeks burn a bit beneath his mask. "I mean, Judith. I'm way too young to…" he began to say, then stopped himself as he realized what his words were revealing, but it was too late. Both Dawson's parents stopped what they were doing and stared over at him in surprise, and he grappled for some way to recover. "I mean, uh, I'm old enough to. Like, I could, if I, you know, wanted to. But, like, I don't have a wife, and, uh, I'm too busy with my Spider-Man gig to settle down and stuff. You know how it is, right?"
The two of them shared a look, which made Peter feel a little uneasy. Then, just moments later, the couple burst out laughing, which made Spider-Man cringe at first, then relax slightly. Dawson joined in on the laughter too, even though he had no idea what was so funny.
"It's alright, Spidey," he chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "We won't tell anyone."
"Yeah," his wife agreed, her fists on her hips, "I mean, I had my suspicions from your voice, but your rather, uh, hysterical disposition is a pretty dead give away. Sorry, dear." Her smile faded a bit. "It does bother me, though. You shouldn't be out fighting bad guys and monster invasions. If you're as young as I'm assuming, you should be worrying about acne or pretty girls or something."
Peter couldn't help but laugh at that, despite how much it irritated him that he couldn't lie to save his life. "Thanks," he muttered with an awkward grin on his face, "….and trust me, I do." The pair of them chuckled softly as they continued tending to his wounds. With a sigh, Spider-Man shifted his position a bit, trying to get more comfortable, when his elbow bumped onto something hard behind the pillow. A click sounded, and the television hanging on the wall suddenly hummed to the life. The screen flickered onto the news channel, where an anchorman sat with his hands folded on his desk.
…sure as all of you are aware at this point, an army of what appear to be half-human, half-animal monsters have invaded the island of Manhattan and have gone on a killing spree. They appear to be the result of some ungodly experimentation carried out illegally by the scientists working at Oscorp Industries, for our sources have led us to believe that the creatures have been traced back to the Oscorp tower on 54th street, as several eyewitnesses claim that they saw the monsters come pouring out from that building around 5:00 p.m. this afternoon. We have also had many reports of the creatures escaping into the city through the sewers. According to all our knowledge, these creatures are mindless, violent, and have caused city-wide casualties over the past few hours. The NYPD have all units engaged in combat against the creatures and have contacted the federal army to try to control the situation. The Avengers have also joined the fight, and to much of the public's surprise, New York's infamous masked vigilante, who up until recently was believed to have died in the Scorpion fiasco two weeks ago, was found to be with them as well. That's correct, New York. Spider-Man is alive, and was last seen fighting the monsters alongside Iron Man near Midtown. While the surprise return of New York's favorite wall-crawler has been widely celebrated, it is still unclear if the Avengers and Spider-Man will be able to stop this catastrophe from escalating any further, even with their combined strength. Because of this, an alert has been sent out directly from the NYPD and Tony Stark to all the citizens of Manhattan to stay indoors. These monsters are genetically mutated killing machines that have been reported to attack and devour humans, and must be avoided at all costs. You are highly encouraged to take refuge in the top floors of buildings and to remain off the streets. Lock your doors, protect your children, and stay updated on this story's developments. More coverage on this appalling catastrophe and what is being done to suppress it in a moment…
Mrs. Stevens stared at the television with a look of fear on her face. "My gosh," she whispered, her hands covering her mouth. "This is…much worse. Much worse than I imagined. What is with New York and all of these crazy recent monster attacks?" Her eyes grew wide suddenly, and she turned around to look at Dawson, who was still sitting on the floor, dangling his Spider-Man toy from a strand of webbing. With haste in her steps, she sped across the room and scooped her son off the ground, cradling him close with her eyes squeezed shut.
"We're fine, darling," her husband reassured her, coming up behind her and laying his hand on her back. "We'll be okay."
"I know," she replied after a moment of hesitation, her arms still wrapped protectively around her child. "But…just think how close we were to losing him. And think of all the people who weren't as lucky as we were. While we're here safe and sound, there are probably hundreds of people out there whose lives have been turned upside down, whose families have been torn apart by those things."
"Yeah," he agreed remorsefully, "we have a lot to be thankful for."
Peter sat silently on the couch, watching the small family as they embraced one another. That's why I have to get back out there, he thought to himself, a fresh wave of obligation and guilt rushing over him, to keep more families like Dawson's together, and safe. He blinked his eyes behind his mask. Families. Family. My…family.
A horrible realization suddenly dawned on him.
This just in, the television interceded, and Peter glanced up with a start. Any civilians still located in these areas need to evacuate immediately. The newsman glanced down at the papers in his hands. Times Square, Brooklyn, Gramercy Park, Midtown, and Queens. These areas are currently receiving the worst of the attack, and are where the majority of the casualties reported have occurred. Again, anyone still in these areas must evacuate immediately. If you are trapped somewhere, try to keep calm. The NYPD are sending rescue teams to those areas as quickly as possible in helicopters and S.W.A.T. trucks. Try to get on rooftops, arm yourselves, and call the number pictured to relay your location to the police…
Peter bolted up from the couch. Queens. Aunt May. Oh no.
When Mrs. Stevens finally opened her eyes, she noticed that he was now standing, and she narrowed her brow. "Spider-Man?" she inquired, pulling away from her husband. "What are you—?"
Peter tore off the bloody bandages hanging loosely from his arms. "I have to go."
Mr. Stevens blinked in surprise and turned towards him. "What? We haven't finished patching your wounds yet. Just give us a minute and we'll—"
"My family is in danger," he stated bluntly, and after checking to make sure that his web-shooters were undamaged, he pulled his mask down firmly and marched over to the door. He turned the handle and wrenched it open, feeling the knob buckle slightly beneath his carelessly powerful grip, when a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder from behind.
"Hold on, Spidey," he heard Mr. Stevens say, but he pulled away and slipped out the doorway. The brisk air met him once again, sending a shiver down Peter's spine, but he didn't let it faze him. He strode over to the edge of the rooftop where the protective walls had been shattered, and the empty streets below set off his nerves all the more, for the sounds that whispered in his ears betrayed the peaceful city his eyes were seeing beneath him. Far in the distance, he could hear them: growling and roaring and devouring his city's people. A terror like none he'd ever felt overcame him. Aunt May…
"Spider-Man!" Mrs. Stevens called from behind him, and after a moment's hesitation, he slowly turned around. The pair of them both stood in the doorway, their eyes wide and despairing. In a way, they reminded him of his Aunt May and Uncle Ben. The mother opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again before finally speaking. "Thank you. For everything."
Peter shook his head. "No. Thank you all. Seriously."
"Be careful out there, bud," Mr. Stevens added, offering him an army-style salute and a nod. "Don't go getting yourself killed. For real, this time."
Spider-Man nodded back curtly. Then, facing the edge once more, he readied himself to leap off the roof and fly down the streets as fast as his sore arms would allow. His toes peeked over the side as the darkness below beckoned him.
"Wait!" a shrill voice cried out, making him freeze in place. Taking a step back, he turned around just in time to find his torso being tackled by a small child. Dawson hugged him as tight as he could, standing on his tip-toes so that his arms barely reached Spider-Man's waist. After squeezing him a moment longer, Dawson raised his head and beamed up at his hero's masked face, his eyes full of hope and innocence. "Come back soon, okay Spider-Man?"
With a sigh, Peter forced a sad smile to turn up the corners of his lips, but that's all he could muster. Kneeling down, he returned the child's hug despite the pain welling in his throat and the sickness pooling in his stomach.
"Sure thing, Dawson," he replied quietly, then released him and patted his head. "But I gotta go now. Save the city and all that. Do me a favor, bud, and hold up the fort while I'm gone. Alright?"
The boy nodded back earnestly, and Peter rose to his feet. After motioning Dawson back towards his family with a gentle nudge, Spider-Man glanced back at them over his shoulder one last time.
"Stay safe," he told them simply. Then, with a newfound urgency, Peter vaulted off the rooftop while simultaneously pressing his middle fingers hard against his palm, and web fluid zipped from his wrist and latched onto the nearby flagpole. Gravity sent him swinging low past the beam before launching him back into the air, his muscles coiled in preparation to release the next web strand as he careened down the street.
All of the delusional peace had left him. The feeling of blissful, ignorant joy that he had so desperately craved had vanished like a ghost into the night. Now risen to claim its vacancy within him was a powerful, agonizing fear that seemed to gnaw at his insides like a parasite. Fear for his teammates, fear for his city, and now fear for the safety of the only family he had left. But, above all else, fear of the unknown.
Oh noooes okay rant time
First things first I'm the realist, and secondly, OMG GUYS THE NEW AVENGERS MOVIE TRAILER WAS LEAKED AND IT LOOKS AWEESOOOME! Can't wait for that to come out in April! But guys, oh gosh. The future Marvel movies, including Captain America 3, are going to be about the Civil War thing. Now, I haven't read the comics, but I sorta know what happens...which is something so sad and awful it hurts my heart. Let's just say that Chris Evans has a shorter contract with Marvel studios than Sebastian Stan...
Okay guys. Okay. Like, how. HOW. HOW IN ALL OF MY TIME SPENT LOOKING UP SPIDEY STUFF ON TUMBLR, GOOGLE, MARVEL WEBSITES, WIKIFREAKINPEDIA, AND OTHER FORMS OF THE INTERNETS HAVE I NOT FOUND THIS SHOW UNTIL NOW. Yeah, you know the show I'm talking about. The best Spider-Man show out there that I somehow have never even heard of until about 5 days ago. Yeah, that's right. I have never even heard of the Spectacular Spider-Man show until now. And it's amazing. Like, I binge watched the whole thing in one day. And then watched it again. IT'S SO GOOD AND PORTRAYS SPIDEY JUST LIKE THE COMICS! I like it better than that Ultimate Spider-Man show, but that's probably because that one is geared more towards little kids. Too bad it got cancelled and all, but its still awesome. So yeah, that's it. Rant's over. Chapter 22 coming soon, which will not be the last one. I think its going to make people sad... hehehe :P Write a review maybe? :D