CHAPTER TEN: THE HUNTER

Peter Parker

. . .

. . .

Logan West lives in Brooklyn.

Specifically up on Eldert Street in an all brick, three story building with huge black paned windows. Cars line every inch of the street, and there's enough people hanging around outside or walking to and from their cars for me to stick to the shadows of the roof.

"Which unit is it?"

"Unit 312. One bedroom, one bath, 1,000 sq feet. According to the building's blueprints, if you were on the street facing the building, it would be top floor, all the way to the right," says Ned.

I make my way over to the side of the roof, staying low and peeking over the edge down at the window. One of the squares making up the large window pane is propped open at a ninety degree angle.

"Hey Ned, how big are those windows?"

"Let me see . . . oof. That's gonna be a tight fit, dude."

"Can you think of any other way in that won't catch unnecessary attention?"

"Nope! Hang on, one sec."

The street light on the corner, as well as the security lights stationed around the building suddenly flicker and go dark.

"Nice," I say appreciatively as I climb down the side of the building, making sure the coast is relatively clear before I scurry to the window. It's a tight squeeze, but I'm able to make my way in and drop flat to the floor. "Also nice of Logan to leave a window open for me."

"Should we be worried about the convenience of that?"

"Probably."

I use several filters to scan the apartment for any hostiles, traps, or security cameras. Each scan comes back as negative.

I'm in the living room, a gray sectional facing a black modern tv stand where a 48" television rests. Bookshelves line the walls, and as I make my way through, I examine them, noting the clear theme of titles.

"Consistent," I mutter, noting the framed pictures of Logan West posing with exotic animal species around the globe in between the biology, animal science, and conservationist texts.

The kitchen is plain, but not unlived in, and the freezer is full of packaged, unmarked meats. "Definitely a carnivore."

"You know, a lot of people in his field end up being vegetarians."

"Guess he didn't get the memo."

I inspect the main open space thoroughly, even going so far as to press against the cracks between floorboards, looking for any hidden trap doors, any hidden spots where evidence or a secret lair entrance could be found.

But there's nothing. Just a typical bachelor pad.

So I move down the hall, checking the bathroom briefly before heading into the bedroom.

There's gotta be something here.

The king-sized bed is unmade, the beige sheets and plaid blankets rumpled and askew. A pair of industrial bedside tables rest on either side, adorned with lamps, an alarm clock, and some reading glasses resting on a worn looking book resting face down.

Above the bed is a large painting of an African landscape, golden grasses parting for a sleek blank panther.

"Cool painting," Ned says appreciatively. "Think he got it in Africa?"

"I would guess so."

A wardrobe stands on the left wall, massive, but plain, and the right wall is adorned with another large window, covered with beige blackout curtains.

I go first to the side tables, cringing as I rifle through what turns out to be the guy's socks. And then I skip the drawers undoubtedly containing his underwear. I want to be thorough, but not that thorough.

Then I examine the painting, feeling along the edges of the thick wooden frame, even going so far as to lift it and feel the wall underneath. No seams, no trick safe or door.

I even search under the bed.

Nothing.

With a frustrated sigh, I turn to the wardrobe.

"Hey, if you end up finding the passageway to Narnia in there, tell Mr. Tumnus I say hi."

I snort, opening the large wooden doors to reveal a mass of navy Bronx Zoo polo shirts, professional looking button ups, and a few jackets. My hand moves to the back of the wardrobe and meets a wooden panel. "Sorry, Ned. No Narnia."

"Damn."

"I don't get it," I say, pacing the room and trying not to let my frustration and panic get the best of me. "It has to be him."

"He does seem like the most likely culprit. Although we still haven't figured out WHY he's after you."

I sit down on the bed and stare at the half full hamper in the corner. All that determination, that surety . . . it starts to drain away, and I'm left with something leaden and sinking.

The events of the past couple weeks cycle through my head, and I watch it, not as myself, but as a spectator.

"Shit, Ned. How screwed up is this?"

"Uhhh . . . is that a rhetorical question?"

I lean forward, putting my head in my hands. "There's nothing here, man. Logan West is just an animal trainer attracted to my aunt, and I have Happy tailing them while I break into his apartment."

There's a moment of silence.

"Your senses told you the guy was bad news, so that makes him worth investigating."

"Does it? If he hadn't asked May out, I never would have looked into him based on bad vibes alone."

"No, but given the circumstances, I feel like it's pretty reasonable. Plus, you know, good practice for future stealth missions? Also, just because he didn't turn out to be the ninja stalking you doesn't mean he's an upstanding citizen."

"Maybe. I don't know, man. I'm really starting to question my own judgment," I say, standing and accidentally kicking the nightstand, sending the worn little book tumbling to the floor. "Maybe Sam and Mr. Stark are right. I'm on edge from the whole Dravek fiasco and I'm reading too much into everything."

I bend to pick up the book. "Maybe-"

I stop.

The front cover of the paperback is faded around the edges, one corner bent from where it fell. It's soft and pliant, like it's been picked up and read a thousand times.

But it's not the condition that has me frozen.

A stylized skull fills most of the cover, framed by olive green edges and a splatter of color across the center, like blood. The title is spread across the top.

"The Most Dangerous Game" by Richard Connell.

"Ned, are you seeing this?"

"Yeah. Could be a creepy as hell coincidence."

"Could be," I say, feeling my insides knot up and the hair on the back of my neck rise. I look again around the room, and the wardrobe seems to loom in my vision.

My skin prickles.

Leaving the book abandoned on the floor, I spread open the doors, sweep the hanging clothes aside, and run my fingers again over the seams, this time more carefully. I'm halfway in the wardrobe, my masked face pressed against the wooden back. My fingers brush over something splinter small, and then the entire panel shifts back a quarter of an inch, then, under my touch, slides quietly to the side.

Bingo.

The beat of my heart throws itself into overdrive as I'm cast suddenly in pale blue light.

"Welcome to Narnia, Ned," I breathe, eyes wide.

"Holy shit."

I step through the wardrobe and into a narrow hidden room, small enough to have once been a walk-in closet.

I take it in. The desk, laden with consoles, computer towers, and massive, interconnected monitors. The wall . . . nearly shrine-like in its display. My feet carry me forward, my lenses wide.

Photographs are pinned like fragile butterflies in no discernable pattern, black and white pictures of me, of Peter Parker walking down the street with Ned, sitting on the steps of school, in class with my hand raised, eating dinner on the couch in my apartment with May.

Pictures of Spiderman, sometimes just a swinging blur between buildings, or perched atop a street sign, high-fiving the skater girl I'd stopped from getting mugged, in mid-combat with a thug.

But there's more than just pictures.

My paper I submitted on "The Most Dangerous Game", a log of texts I exchanged with Sam, a transcribed conversation between Ned and I, a scrap of my Spiderman suit.

Swallowing hard, feeling oddly separated from my own body, I look at the screens.

The outer ones display a rapidly changing series of encrypted text, flowing down like something out of the Matrix. Those framed in the center are playing video clips, rapidly switching through scenes of me fighting the Murderous Cyber Ninja, me jogging with Sam on the track at the Avengers facility, me walking down the street, looking over my shoulder.

I can't speak. Can't think.

Just watch every intimate detail of my life over the past month play on repeat in front of me.

This is . . . it's . . .

Prickling numb edges up my fingers, my wrists, pulsing in time to my thundering heartbeat. The corners of the room are filled with shadows, shadows that take on the visage of jungle vines and trees, tinged with red . . .

And then the shadow of a Dravec hunter looms over me, expanding along the wall of monitors, just as tall as I remember, and every nerve is alive and frozen and screaming.

I'm a rabbit.

A voice, deep and thickly accented like some cliche Russian Bond villain, echoes in the narrow closet.

"Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and if need be, taken by the strong. The weak of the world were put here to give the strong pleasure. I am strong. Why should I not use my gift? If I wish to hunt, why should I not?"

Not an alien jungle. Not a Dravec.

Fingers curling against the panicking numb, I turn slowly, eyeing the predator blocking off the only exit.

Logan West stands calm, unhurried, the shirt he wore to dinner slightly unbuttoned at the collar. "Hello, Peter."

"I knew it," I say, but it holds no trace of the victorious crow that it should be. It's hollow and hoarse.

There's a smirk unfolding across his face. "They warned me you would be a challenge. And they were right. Then again, I've never hunted human prey before."

A chill snakes down my back. "Why?"

"Do not worry. I did not sully the hunt with monetary exchanges. I kept it clean, honorable, even when those who came to me would have offered me millions for your head."

That startles me. "Someone tried to pay you to kill me?"

West nods, casually unbuttoning his sleeves, rolling them up above his elbows.

"If not for money, then why?"

"For the challenge. The hunt. As I said, I've hunted many things, but never human prey before. But you're not entirely human, are you?"

"I guess not." It clicks. "It's all been a test, hasn't it? You were learning me."

"A good hunter studies his prey before the real chase begins. And, of course, I wanted to draw you out and away from the comfort of the herd."

The herd being the Avengers. Right.

"How'd you hack into my suit?"

"You're not the only one who has friends, Peter."

I realize, then, that I haven't heard Ned's voice since I stepped into the secret room, that I got no notification or heads up from Happy that Logan had left the restaurant, that he was heading home.

Numb is replaced with sudden heat, making me almost dizzy as my hands form fists. "Where's my aunt?"

"Probably being harassed by the waiter and realizing I won't be returning from the restroom by now."

Logan shifts forward, the blue light from the monitors chasing away the shadows hiding the sharp planes of his face, and I notice a series of thick, red scars that definitely weren't there before. "Gifts," he says, gesturing to them. "From my last trophy. I wonder what marks you will leave before I end your life."

I can't help it, I take a half step back. Rabbit-rabbit-the way he's looking at me, the hungry wolf, the cornered prey . . .

That's how he wants me to feel.

He's orchestrated every move of this game, this hunt. All culminating to this grand reveal, and then . . . the final chase.

And the kill.

My eyes narrow, and I feel my spine straightening, fighting against the predatory pressure. "Your name isn't Logan West, is it?"

"Will knowing my real name give you peace before death?"

"Uh no. Not really, no."

"I will admit one thing to you," he says, eyes black as coal, pupils blown like a cat's right before they pounce. "I did not anticipate your youth. I might have waited years for you, to come into your prime, be an even greater challenge."

"I suppose that's off the table now, huh?"

He doesn't answer.

I shift into a crouch. "I won't make this easy for you."

"I'd be disappointed if you did."

"You gonna give me a head start, then?"

He bares his teeth in a grin. Steps aside.

And I run.

A/N: FINALLY

I've been waiting for these next few chapters for AGES. As you have as well lol. Better buckle up pals, it's gonna be a bumpy ride from here until the finale! Thanks to each of you who show continued interest in this series. I had a dream last night about the next book, and I am so psyched you have no idea. So your support and interest truly do mean the world!

cargumentluv: I'm so excited too!

monkeybaby: Ah thank you! It was super fun getting in his head, even briefly!

Guest: Thank you so much!

RedHood001: Aw thank you! I like how each book feels a little different. Whereas Riders in the Sky was definitely an "Avengers"movie sort of deal, this one is definitely scaled back down to more of a "Spiderman" movie. Or comic :) I love getting to involve Ned more and having a smaller focus than trying to balance the larger scale cast. I'm so glad you are enjoying!

Guest: Aww I'm so glad you were excited and that you loved all the interactions!

gamma1243: OH my word what a compliment! I am truly flattered!

LunaBianca: Thanks so much for your kind words! I love hearing your thoughts!

AvatarUzumaki: Aw thank you! I love the Bucky and Peter big bro relationship :)

xSapphirexRosesxFanx: :D

cabbagesilverose: Thank you!

helloexistientialcrises: Lol! I couldn't resist! I knew immediately Happy would be like yeah no until May's date was mentioned XD

Aron R Vig: Omg thank you! It was definitely a much smaller wedding than we wanted and we missed having all our friends and family there, but it was a magical day nonetheless :)

LoonyLovegood1981: Aw thank you! That sleepy lightsaber Ned moment was a last minute addition I knew I needed in the story! He's just the best. As are you! Thanks for your review!

MewWinx96: Hi! Glad you enjoyed!

StarStepper: AWWWW your review made my DAY! Those are the kind of comments that have me grinning ear to ear! Thank you so much, and I am so happy you are enjoying this story!

Leiah Cloud: Thanks so much! Good to be back!

Guest: :D

Love seeing all the familiar reviewers out there, and some fresh faces! You guys are the freaking best.

COMING UP:

CHAPTER ELEVEN: RUN RABBIT RUN

The chase begins.