Chapter 22 [Talon—An Hour Later]

[A/N: Unless otherwise noted, "Peter" refers to Peter Parker and "Pete" refers to Pete Ross.]

Customers pressed into the Talon after the dinner hour. Brownies', Cookies' and Scones' siren call beckoned to their palates. Espresso and Cappuccino washed these down. Conversation lightened their hearts. Eyes drifted toward the impromptu decorations. A banner declared "WELCOME LEXCORP INTERNS!" over the counter. Tables had been cleared from a space by the stairs.

Celebration beckoned….

Byron sat at his usual table. He rubbed his chin. Inspiration seemed to play hide and seek. His pen scratched away at the parchment paper. His hand reached for the waiting mug. He sipped on the lukewarm remains of the coffee. "I shall stretch you as far as I must, I fear."

A giggle discouraged that thought.

He glanced up at the slender blonde watching him. She held a fresh pot of coffee in her right hand. "Ah! I do believe I am saved."

Sandra shook her head. "And what did William Langland say about patience?"

He rolled his eyes. "That it is a virtue. Yes, yes… You do know that I would wait until Eternity itself ends for that sweet refill."

"You could. Fortunately, I like a certain poet too much for that." She filled the mug. "Besides, from what Miranda says, her uncle is a medieval buff and a poet in his own right."

"Truly so?" He arched his eyebrow. Intrigue and Interest sparked his attention. "The Muse visits this man as well?"

"You might ask Mr. Luthor, the Kents or some of the older regulars. From what I understand, he had a poetry reading in the old theater back in the 80s." She patted his hand. "Another who likes poetry. He'll be here in a bit." She saw Pete and Samantha walking through the front door. "Hi, guys! How was the drive?"

"It was quick. Pete and I talked about tonight. Can't wait to play for everyone!" Samantha held up her violin case. "And how is our Poetic Maestro tonight?"

"The Muse awaits both of our expressions." Byron smirked. He motioned toward the two chairs across from himself. "The road has been long. The mood is one of welcoming friends from distant shores, is it not? Please, Good Friends, join me. I have but one more stanza to compose. Your company would aid me in that endeavor."

Pete looked around at the full café. "Yeah. I'll definitely take you up on that invite, Dude. How's everything with your Mom and you? You doing okay?"

"I am as right as rain. Thank you." Byron squeezed Sandra's hand. "I would hold you the entire evening. Alas, you have others to serve as well as me."

"Unfortunately." Sandra smiled. She noted how he'd invited the couple to join him without her prompting. She knew that not long before, Reticence would've kept him from doing so. "Pete, what you two want is on the house per Mr. Luthor. What can I get you?"

Suspicion prompted a look from him. What is Uncle Fester doing now?

"Pete, Mr. Luthor's just being nice. I appreciate that he's doing this and letting me stay at the mansion. At least I don't have to stay at the Inn."

"Yeah. He's a real nice guy." Pete frowned. "At least it's good for you, I guess, Sam."

"It's good for us, Pete. Sandra, thanks for asking. I'd like a mocha and a piece of that chocolate cake. Pete?" Samantha ordered.

"A coffee and maybe an apple scone if you got one left?" Pete added.

"I believe we do have one. Be right back." Sandra hustled off toward the counter.

Byron put a finger up. "Just a minute. I just felt it."

"Felt what?" Pete looked to Samantha.

She snorted. "He just hit with an inspiration." She folded her arms across her chest. "Go, Master Poet! Go!"

Byron sighed. He closed his eyes for the feeling. Then he scratched out the last stanza. "And done! Voila!" He set the pen down and fanned the parchment to dry the ink. "My thanks."

"You're most welcome. I will want to read that masterpiece one day." She saw Sandra coming back. "Here it comes. Watch the vellum!"

"I shall indeed." Byron tucked away the new creation. "Our friends' company proved immediately beneficial."

"Did it now?" Sandra set the drinks and treats down on the table. She put an additional piece of cake with some whipped cream in front of her poet. "Then this reward is in order."

"But I did not order it. I do not wish trouble for you," Byron worried.

"No trouble. Mr. Luthor's all right with it." Sandra smiled. Her eyes twinkled into his. She set the fork in his hand. "I'm with Sandra. You will let me read that."

"I have no argument. You know that, my Dear Barista of the Good Service," he agreed.

"Oh brother! Guys, keep Byron from overdosing on the inspiration. Okay?" Sandra rubbed Byron's shoulder. Then she headed back toward the counter.

"You do lay it on thick, Guy." Pete fixed his coffee. He took a swig from it.

"I think it's sweet myself. We artists need our support. Speaking of which, we have that concert tomorrow night," Samantha reminded.

"I know. Mom's looking forward to it. She really likes Tchaikovsky and Mozart," Pete recalled.

"Truly?" Byron frowned. "I do wish I could hear your sweet bow caress the violin's strings to those notes, Samantha. Alas! I will but play my CDs."

"Really?" Samantha rubbed her chin. "The concert's still has a lot of seats. Just a minute." She took out her cell phone.

"Lex Luthor. Samantha? Everything all right?" Lex answered from the Kent Farm. "We're just getting ready to drive in."

"Pete and I just got here ourselves, Mr. Luthor. Thanks. Say are you taking the interns to Wichita tomorrow for the tour?" Samantha supposed.

"I am. Why? What's going on?" Lex asked.

"Well Byron Moore and I were just talking. We're going to be performing Mozart and Tchaikovsky tomorrow night. There are still seats available. I have two available seats that I can use for tomorrow night if Byron and Samantha could go?" Samantha proposed.

"Really? The Wichita Symphony isn't sold out for tomorrow night?" Lex looked at the group at the farm.

"I can check while you're driving over," Samantha told him. "I can still call. The box office closes at 7:30. I can get a discount. Maybe even better seats?"

"You're a lady after my own heart, Miss Cooper. I like that enthusiasm. Make the call. Maybe see if they can get a dozen tickets together? We have a big group. What about Pete?" Lex agreed.

"He's going with Judge Ross. She's got season tickets. This will be so great! Mr. Harvill will really appreciate it!" Samantha cheered. "And this will get Lord Byron going."

"I'm sure." Lex smirked. "Make the call. I'll talk to Michael when I get there."

"You bet, Mr. Luthor. Thanks!" Samantha hung up. Triumph prompted a big smirk across her face. "Lord Byron, forget the CDs. You're going to hear them live tomorrow."

"Live? I…" Byron stared at her. Surprise widened his eyes and slackened his jaw.

"We have seats available. You want to hear them." Samantha dialed the phone.

"Century II Box Office."

"Hi, Mr. Rivers. This is Samantha Cooper with the Wichita Symphony. I just spoke to Lex Luthor. We still have tickets for tomorrow?"

"We sure do! Is he interested in coming?" Rivers supposed.

"He asked me to put in for a dozen seats. He'll be calling," she advised.

"I've got them reserved." Rivers saw another line's light flashing on his phone. He glanced at the caller ID. "That's Mr. Luthor now. Thank you, Miss Cooper. Have a good evening."

"You too, Mr. Rivers. Take care." She disconnected the call and put the phone in her purse. "Mr. Luthor's finalizing everything now."

Byron nodded. He sipped on his coffee. "A goodly turn well executed, my Dear. Truly our journey through Bliss' fair terrain, Good Titania."

"Huh?" Pete completely missed the metaphor.

Sam chuckled. "Byron's referring to 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' by Shakespeare." She sipped on her drink. "And as always, you never cease to amaze, Master Poet." She saw Lex come in with Chloe and the two couples. "Speaking of which."

Lex disconnected the call. He told Peter and Clark. "Go and get anything you want. It's on me. I'll be there in a minute." He walked over toward Sam.

"Wonder who's he going to talk to?" Peter watched their host head toward the Poet across the room.

"That's Byron Moore. He's a really great guy. He gets really excited about poetry. The guy with him is Pete Ross who's one of my best friends. The girl with them is Sam Cooper. She's from Wichita," Clark pointed out.

"She plays violin for the Wichita Symphony," Lana added. "She's going to play for us tonight."

"She's really great. I can't wait!" Chloe interjected.

Peter looked about the café. As at the airport, his Spider Sense buzzed across his scalp. On the surface, people mingled. Scents teased his nostrils. Ambiance stuck out in front of his eyes from past and present. Teens and twenty-somethings gabbed and gossiped amongst themselves. He could imagine the town elders doing the same during the mid-day.

Even so, Danger lingered nearby…right under this seemingly harmless veneer….

He grimaced. "Maybe we could get those cappuccinos? I really need a shot of caffeine."

"I think you need a seat, Mr. P." Gwen guided him toward a table. She put her hand to his forehead. "You're not sick."

"I'll get you some cake and a cappuccino. There's a booth right by where Lex is talking with our friends. Chloe, give me a hand with those drinks?" Lana pointed toward the table in question as a reminder. Then she headed toward the counter.

"Sure." Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Any special requests or a cappuccino work?"

"Cappuccinos are great for us. Thank you." Gwen smiled. She wondered about Peter's sudden headache.

"Follow me, Guys." Clark motioned for them to follow. He led them through the buzzing and busy place toward the others. "Hey, Lex. Mind if we join you?"

"Of course! What?" Lex studied their guests. "Hey, Peter. You all right?"

"I'll be fine. Must just be the jet lag and that excitement at the airport. I…." Peter sucked in a deep breath. Then his eyes found the cause. "Lex, look to my right. It's Octopus."

"What?" Lex narrowed his eyes. He saw that the café was nearly full. Sam would be getting ready to perform in a few more minutes. "Unbelievable!" He saw Sheriff Adams saunter into the café. "Clark, stay here with them. I'll be right back."

"Stay? What?" Clark looked to the others.

"He's going to get your Sheriff. I don't know what that lady's going to do about that murderer." Gwen shook her head. "We'd best get out of here. I'm sorry. If he's here then we shouldn't be."

"It'll be all right." Peter weighed his options. He knew that no small-town sheriff in her right mind would be able to handle Doc Ock by herself. He also understood better than anyone else in that place what that six-armed maniac was capable of. Still, if he got into costume and confronted Ock, he'd be exposed without hope of an alibi.

Options all seemed really bad at that point.

"Hey. Is there a bathroom around here?" Peter eyed the stairs. He could see nobody was on the second floor walkway. Several doors lay partially obscured by the shadows.

"Sure. It's right by the coffee bar," Clark indicated.

"Thanks. I'll be right back." Peter slipped into the crowd. Regret jabbed Conscience in that second. Still Necessity drove him onward. He veered to the left and made his way toward the stairs. As he did so, he could see that Sheriff making her way toward Doc Ock.

A certain web slinger would be needed stat….