Small blackDisclaimer: Our mighty lord and saviour, Mickey Mouse, owner of Marvel and Spiderman, has yet to accept me as his vessel and ruler of the Mythos. If that went over your head, I meant to say that I do not, in fact, own Spiderman, and also, I make literally NO money from this. Why do I do it then? I can hear you saying to your cell phone... Well, the answer is simple!
I don't really know...
Anyway! Welcome to Chapter Eight! Man! What a world we live in! Eight chapters! Yes!
Also, not that anyone out there is allergic to fluff, but if you are... don't worry... I don't think it counts as fluff, and if not, and you are allergic, please do not sue me! as I said: I make, and have, no money.
As always please read, and after you've read, please review! It helps keep me motivated! Also, then I know what you like! Anyway: CHAPTER EIGHT!
By the way, the cover art of this fic was designed by yours truly, Mr Authot/Mr Artist, both jobs that provide me with no money
Oh, before I forget, this may not be clear yet, so I'll just remind, or perhaps enlighten some: This fic works like a TV Series. I'll be posting a chapter every week for the foreseeable, and slightly after that, future. Please check in every Sunday at roughly the time I post this chapter, around... now... ish...
Please enjoy
Chapter 8:
"a Deal with the devil..."
"Son, do you know who I am?"
"Yes," Peter said. "You're Dr Reed Richards, one of the greatest scientists of this generation, one of my role models."
"Good," Reed smiled. "I need you to do something for me."
He handed Peter his wristwatch.
"I need you to keep this on hand. In a few days, it might start making a blue light, maybe beep a bit. I need you to come to the top floor of the Baxter building. You know your way there I trust?"
"Yes, Sir. I won't let you down."
"Good. Susan?" Reed said, he, Susan, the no longer flaming man and the now upright crystal monster floated into the air and out of Central Park.
A WEEK LATER
Gwen woke to the sound of a nurse complaining to one of her colleagues. She saw the nurse walk to her nightstand where a big glass vase with blue tulips stood. The nurse moved to pick up the vase and take it away, but Gwen stopped her. Gwen's leg was raised and stilted in the air, but she could still move her arms.
"Don't," She said softly. "Please, they're my favourite."
Gwen looked at the nurse with her best pleading expression.
"I tell you, this is the third vase now. It's incredible." The nurse tutted.
"Who brought them?" Gwen asked, staring at the flowers.
"That's just it!" The nurse exclaimed exasperatedly. "We never see! They just appear on your nightstand! As if spiderman himself crawled through the window and put them there!"
Gwen smiled softly to herself as the nurses left the room.
Probably exactly what happened. She thought.
Peter sat in Mr Daniels' class, the last class on a Monday. The minutes seemed to drizzle by like snails stuck in molasses.
"... hidden beneath that stoic piece of cloth can be anyone. Spiderman wears a mask because he is hiding something. What is it that he is hiding? A Sin of the past, striving for redemption. The sins of the present, disguises and lies.
"He wears a mask, not only for the things he has done but also for the things he will do, in the name of justice."
Mr Daniels finished reading. The class sat in stunned silence, staring at Peter, who sat doodling in his book.
"Ground control to Major Tom!" Mr Daniels laughed and threw a piece of chalk at Peter's head.
Peter's spider-sense snapped in and he caught the chalk between his fingers.
"Nice reflexes. Now that you're back on Earth, any words of wisdom you want to endow the class with?" Mr Daniels said as he leaned on his desk.
"Uh... What?" Peter asked flummoxed as he threw the chalk back at Mr Daniels who caught it easily.
"What was the last thing you heard before you lifted off?" Mr Daniels asked.
"Uh... The results from the Daily Bugle competition are in?" Peter tried lamely.
"Yeah. And you won." Mr Daniels smiled. "Welcome to the glamorous life of the press."
The school bell rang and everyone started piling their things in their backpacks, Mr Daniels whistled loudly to call them to order.
"As you all know Saturday we, the brave M3 Goblins are playing our arch rivals the Manhatten Tigers in the annual inter-school friendly. And as usual, I'm sure many of you are planning to commit some heinous acts of vandalism to their school statue before then. Well, I've something to say about that!" Mr Daniels scowled and looked every person in class right in their eyes.
"Don't get caught." He smirked.
Peter sat next to Bruce the gargoyle, eating a hot dog he bought.
"Gwen's looking better." He told Bruce through mouthfuls of hot dog.
Bruce looked inquisitively straight ahead.
"Yeah, turns out her healing factor seems a bit slower than mine. She's a lot stronger though. Her leg should be completely healed by next week." Peter said as he crumpled the hotdog paper and chucked it into the back of a passing garbage truck.
"They won't let me in to visit her!" Peter exclaimed in frustration. "Only 'close friends of the family'" Peter made air quotes to signify just how much he doesn't believe that horrible injustice.
Bruce stonily agreed.
"Wait... Bruce! You're a genius" Peter stood up and pulled on his mask. He leapt off the building and shot a web-line. "I'll see you later, buddy!"
Bruce revelled silently in the comment.
As Peter swung off towards the hospital he passed the same garbage truck he chucked a paper into moments ago. A small black object fell out of the back. Peter stared at his watch.
Still got an hour before visiting hours start, heck call this community service! Peter thought as he swung down and scooped up the black thing. It was a gun. A sub-machine gun.
Uh oh. Peter thought and swung himself high into the air. He shot a web-line at the back of the truck and pulled himself to lightly land on the back. He crawled onto the truck's side and put his ear to a break in the metal. He could hear voices inside.
"You stupid bloody moron! What is wrong with you!" Said a voice with a thick British accent.
"How the hell do you manage to drop your ruddy gun out the back of a freaking garbage truck?!"
"Oi! Wasn't my fault! We hit a bump!"
"We're not even driving 35 miles per hour!"
Peter stopped listening and climbed back on top of the truck. It was speeding towards the financial district.
They must be part of the Yancy Street gang! Peter thought. I've heard about them on the news.
Peter crawled over the truck's roof until he got to the nose. He leaned over the side and tapped the driver's window.
"Hullo, luv! 'Ave you some crumpets for a bloke?" Peter asked in what was possibly the worst imitation of a British accent in recorded history.
"You 'avin a go at me then?" Asked the driver, and pulled out his gun.
"Crikey!" Peter exclaimed and leapt onto the hood of the truck. He webbed up the entire windshield and then the front wheels. He shot a bunch of web-lines, sticking the truck to the ground. Luckily it wasn't moving very fast, and the webbing on the front wheels made it impossible to gain traction.
"God save her majesty!" Peter said as he plucked the driver from his seat and webbed him to the truck.
Let's see if this works... Peter thought and removed a white ball, around half the size of a softball from his backpack. The ball was an experimental web-grenade that contained a highly compressed version of his web-fluid. Theoretically, it could cover everything in a three-meter radius in webbing. He chucked it through the break he listened in through moments ago.
From inside the truck came a startled: "Blimey!", and then a loud SHLOCK!. Peter ripped off the back door of the garbage truck and stared inside. everyone inside was covered in a centimetre of webbing.
"Blast! Seems you lags are all mouth no trousers after all! Don'tcha worry, the Fuzz'll be round shortly!" Peter said as he ripped the webbing off the crooks' mouths and shot off into the sky.
"-then he whipped in using very appropriate British so the thugs could understand him and webbed them all up using some sort of ingenious web-grenade!" Peter gestured wildly with his hands.
Gwen laughed softly from her position in her bed, then she smiled at Peter.
"Spiderman seems to be getting better at his job." She winked.
"Yeah.." Peter said and stared at her leg. "Not good enough."
"Hey..." Gwen said and took Peter's hand in hers. "Not your fault. Any news on our big horned friend?"
"Yeah actually. He's been very obvious in his absence." Peter ran a hand through his hair. "You know what the funny thing is? The holes in the walls leading to where Rhino burst in? They came from the boys' locker room. Rhino was already inside the building."
Gwen sat upright and looked out the window.
"I'll get him. I promise, Gwen. And when I do..." A dark look crossed Peter's face.
"Hey," She said and squeezed his hand. "Don't do anything... stupid..." She smiled.
"If you can manage that without me, that is..."
"Hey!" Peter said. "I'll have you know I'm a big boy. I've managed fine without my sidekick this past week!"
Gwen stuck out her tongue at him.
"How'd you get in here anyway? I thought only immediate family and friends could?"
Peter's face suddenly rushed with blood.
"I... uh..."
Luckily for Peter, the nurse came to his rescue.
"I'm afraid visiting hours are over, Sir." She smiled. "Thank you for coming, it's obvious you brightened her day."
Peter scooped up his backpack and started to leave.
"Oh, and Pete!" Gwen said from the bed. "Thanks for the flower's."
He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "No problem."
Peter walked away and the nurse tutted.
"Where did you find him?" she asked. "Good men are so hard to come by these days."
Gwen held a hand to her cheek and looked at the nurse with a bemused expression.
"I swear," the nurse continued. "If he wasn't your boyfriend I'd grab him for myself."
Gwen looked at her flowers again, a soft smile playing on her face.
Not much else happened for the rest of the week, leading up to Saturday. The only big news came Friday, the day before the big friendly.
"You heard it here first ladies and gentlemen. Not one but two new vigilantes have been spotted and recorded in the new york area. Clear footage is available of one of these vigilantes."
On the TV appeared the image of a white-clad man in a hood and cape, his face masked. He wore a very professional looking body armour and was quite impressive to look at.
"This vigilante marks all of his exploits with a white "C" painted on a nearby wall wherever he goes. User polls have chosen the name Phantom Champion- Oh, hold on we're receiving a call..."
The voice over the phone was disguised, static buzzing sounds draping the voice in sinister quality.
"MY NAME IS NOT PHANTOM CHAMPION! YOU IDIOTS IT'S NOT A "C"! IT'S A MOON! MOON KNIGHT! MY NAME IS MOON KNIGHT!"
The voice was cut off and followed by a series of beeps.
"You heard it here first folks, the "Moon Knight" seems to be on top of things. Very little is known about the other vigilante, other than that he is known to residents of the area as "the Devil of Hell's Kitchen". Now, Spiderman has become quite the mainstay in the city. Street vendors are selling T-Shirts, there is even talk of a 'Spiderman' Movie set to start production early next year. Stan Lee, Chief Executive of Sony pictures had this to say: "Spider-man! No, wait, The AMAZING Spider-man! A spandex-clad superhero fighting crime and climbing on walls! Why didn't I think of that?"
"Spider-Man syndrome." Mr Daniels wrote on the board. He drew pictures of Spidey, Rhino, Shocker, Moon Knight and a Devil.
"It seems that the popularity of our wall-crawler is attracting others of similar," he gestured to Moon Knight. "and Polar viewpoints." He gestured to Rhino and Shocker.
"The very existence of Spiderman makes us wonder, it inspires us with confidence or fear. Let's go back a decade or three: Governer Trask is almost killed by a super-powered individual known as Project Mystique. Two other superpowered individuals, a well-known professor of genetics, professor Charles Xavier, and an ex-convict with magnetic abilities, Eric Lensher, stopped her from doing this. The public hailed them as heroes until it was found that the two are mutants. They were disgraced, both claiming differing views on how to handle humanity's ungrateful attitude. Xavier now operates a school from Winchester, a school where mutants learn to cope with their supernatural abilities. The school isn't exclusively for mutants though, and is hailed as a very astute establishment."
The intercom went off, Principal Coulson's voice gleefully announced: "Could Scott Summers and Ororo Monroe please report to the principal's office, there is a Dr Charles Marko here to see you."
In the back of the class, a boy with brown hair and a girl with tan skin and storm grey hair stood up and walked out.
The bell rang. Mr Daniels quickly whistled to calm the class down.
"Your homework: If you gained superpowers, what would you honestly do with them?"
It was cold. It would probably start snowing soon. It was horrible weather, wet, freezing and a biting wind. Nobody sane would be out past four in the afternoon. The pavilions next to Midtown Manhatten Magnet High School were packed on one side with the mint green and white colours of the goblins, and on the other side stocked with the orange and black of the Manhatten High Tigers.
The crowds were cheering their respective schools in voices that rang all over the usually quiet neighbourhood in Queens. On the field, the two teams were neck and neck, tied at zero each. The clock had four minutes left. Flash Thompson's forehead was coated in glistening sweat. Hobbie Brown had declined, so Flash was the quarterback in what was the most important game every year, at least in all the ways that mattered. Respect. Fame. Tradition.
For the past fifteen years, the Tigers won by a landslide. The ball would be passed to him as soon as the whistle blew. He wouldn't have time to run. He could kick and make a field goal, but he was still seventy yards away from the end zone.
The whistle sounded shrill. Flash caught the pigskin with practised ease. Three strides back. The crowds thundered, but his ears were met with muffled silence. As if in slow motion he saw his right Tackle fall, two Tiger's broke through. Flash closed his eyes for a second. He kicked.
He slammed into the grass as the Tigers tackled him. The crowds were silenced as the ball sailed through the sky.
In the stands, Flash saw his father. He wasn't even paying attention. His dad was trying to get the attention of a stunning blonde woman in the seat behind him. His mom would have watched. She came to see every game he played since he was ten years old. He turned and watched the ball sail through the sky.
Coach Allen wrung his cap between his hands. His experienced eyes saw what nobody else could. The ball would miss the posts by about a yard. He drew a hand through his thinning hair. Time seemed to stand still as every face in the crowd watched the ball sail past the goal posts.
In a bout of luck, the wind picked up. Flash Thompson just made one of the longest recorded field goals in the history of High School football. The crowd exploded. From the stands, everyone rushed in a wave of mint green. In the moment before he was drowned in n well-wishers, Flash Thompson saw his father look at the scoreboard, then look at him. Flash smiled at his dad as his team picked him high up in the air. His Father only looked on with a face of mild disinterest as he walked out of the pavilion to the parking lot.
'THOMPSON! THOMPSON1 THOMPSON!" cheered the crowd as the only spectator Flash cared about waited bored in the car.
Flash's fellow teammates waited by Robbie's pickup while he walked to his dad's car.
"Hey, dad," Flash said. His father grunted in response, not even looking up. "My friends are going to Dex's diner for an afterparty. Coach Allen said he's buying everyone Pizza's."
His father finally looked up at him. "Don't you have an algebra test Wednesday?"
"Yeah," Flash said awkwardly. "But I Just broke a fifteen-year-old winning streak. And I scored one of the farthest recorded-"
"There is more to life than football, Eugene."
"Please, dad?"
His father sighed and said: "Alright. But on one condition!"
"Yeah, dad!" Flash cheered. "Anything!"
"Mrs Drew has told me that your marks are slipping. I want you to get a tutor. She's already recommended one, actually. The kid who scored full marks on a test she intentionally put too little information in. He used maths well beyond his years to solve the equation. His name's something like Percy, maybe Paul? Parker, I think?"
Flash's heart sank like a stone. He didn't tell his dad that it was the nerd Puny Parker that broke his nose and gave him a concussion that made him miss a week of school.
"Peter Parker?" He asked, his guts turning cold.
"That's it!" His father smiled. "You know him?"
"Uh... yeah..." Flash said. "Peter and I are... good friends..."
"Well then." His father said as he started rolling up the window. "As long as that's settled I have no problem letting you go have some fun. Can Robbie drive you home?"
"Yeah, no problem," Flash said.
"Have a good night son." His father simply drove away.
Later that night five seniors in Tigers jackets sneaked onto the school grounds.
"We steal that trophy back, 'fore they can lock it up." A Voice said as they walked to the boarded up the wall next to the gym.
The ripped off the planks and stole inside, turning on their flashlights as the moved.
"Evening boys." Came a cackling voice as the gym filled up with smoke.
"What the hell?" Asked one as a figure emerged from the fog near the entrance.
The figure wore a burlap sack mask, with two holes for eyes and a crudely stitched on Grimace. he was bare-chested, except for a Goblins football jersey with the sleeves ripped off. His pants were black and loose fitting and the tips of his shoes were curled up. On his side hung a satchel and his hands were gloved.
"I'm the Hobgoblin. Let's have a little fun." they figure burst out with insane laughter as he threw three spheres from inside his satchel at the boys.
"I can't believe you're cheering for Flash Thompson!" Gwen giggled as Peter regaled her with stories of the game.
"I'm NOT!" Peter blushed and scowled at her.
"Ok big guy." She said as she punched him in the shoulder. "I'm getting released Monday. I do not know how I'll be able to fake having a broken leg for another month."
"It's fine. I'll help. I'll kick you in the shin every morning." Peter offered with his most innocent face. Peter didn't doge the pillow that was chucked at his head. He simply laughed.
"Give me back my pillow," Gwen demanded in her best angry voice. "You crook!"
"Hey, have you finished your questions about that story Mr Foster gave us the other day? I've got a feeling we'll have a pop quiz Monday." Peter asked.
"Which one? The one about the farm boy who falls in love with the baker's daughter?" Gwen asked.
"Yeah! That's the one!" Peter said.
"Most important thing to remember is the progression of how he sees her as he falls in love with her. Especially her hair, first he sees it as pale, then as yellow, then fair, and then golden. Finally, he sees her hair as a crown upon her head. That's the point where he falls utterly in love with her." Gwen said, sitting a bit more upright as she adjusted her pillow.
Peter stared at Gwen's head. I really am falling for her. He thought. Her hair seemed to shimmer like gold in the pale light.
"What?" Gwen asked.
"What what?" Peter retorted, blushing.
"You were staring at my hair you perv!" Gwen exclaimed with a smile.
"Was not!" Peter said, sticking out his tongue.
"Was too!" Gwen said and moved to chuck her pillow at him again, but the nurse came and stood in the doorway.
"Yeah, Yeah," Peter said as he grabbed his backpack. "I Know the drill, Claire."
The nurse scoffed. "That's Nurse temple to you! And don't you bother my baby girl while she should be resting!" Nurse Temple shot Peter a look.
"Or what?" Peter teased.
"Or you'll have me as your nurse too." She replied.
"I get the picture! Night Gwen! Look for the hidden meaning in our little conversation. You're a smart girl, I'm sure you'll get it."
Peter swung off into the night where he saw a string of black SUVs driving in tandem toward the docks. What was more suspicious was that none of them had registration numbers.
That... That's a bit suspicious. Peter thought as he landed on a rooftop water tower.
At times like this, Peter Parker, just ask yourself: "What would Bruce do?" Peter leapt down and swung after the SUVs.
They finally stopped at a large warehouse where Peter crawled through an upstairs window. From the darkness of the rafters, Peter watched as a small army of men walked up to somebody sitting on a table in a burlap sack mask.
Peter shot a web-line across the warehouse and crawled along it till he was right above the men, where he listened from the shadows.
"These things are the BOMB!" The Hobgoblin said in glee as he threw a small sphere up into the air and caught it again.
"Yes." Came a voice from a pudgy man in a dark brown overcoat. His accent was thick, Peter recognised it as Swiss. "They are also not toys."
"They may not be toys, but man do I like playing with them!"
"You remember your part of the bargain?" The Swiss man asked.
"Yeah, don't worry. Little Mr Roxxon Jr won't be walking again very soon." He threw the sphere high into the air, as it passed Peter, he noted that it was a semi-translucent white colour, with blinking blue and red LEDs visible behind the thick exterior. "Or more accurately, ever again. If he keeps his legs."
Franklin Roxxon? The Tigers' star football captain? Peter asked as he peered down. The Swiss man tilted his head as if listening to someone speak.
"Yes. I am aware." He said. He turned around and spoke now to the men behind him in fast and quick Russian.
The Russian mob?! Peter thought to himself as he peered down, trying to make out the man's face. All he could see was a brown bowl cut and a pair of dark green cup goggles. The Russians moved into their separate vans only one group staying behind with theSwiss man.
"One more thing, Goblin." He said. Peter's spider-sense flared. He leapt down onto the warehouse floor as a shining metallic tentacle burst from the Swiss man's trenchcoat and skewered the air where Peter was moments ago. "Kill the Spiderman."
"Uh, do I get a last meal?" Peter quipped as he lowered himself to the ground.
"Yeah," Hobgoblin said as he jumped into the air. From inside the van behind him shot a mechanical purple fin which attached to the soles of Hobgoblin's feet. "Pumpkin bomb."
Peter had to dance around like a cat on a tin roof as the Hobgoblin through bomb after bomb at him. The Swiss man climbed int the back of the last van as it sped off.
"Like the name, Spiderman?" He asked as Peter narrowly dodged shrapnel from the bomb that tore the table he was standing on to splinters.
"Not really a fan of pumpkin!" Peter said as he tried to web Goblin's face from mid-air. "Got any Lemon bombs instead?"
Hobgoblin threw another bomb and Peter's spider-sense tore at his mind. Unlike the other bombs, this one didn't explode with a cackling laugh and a puff of orange smoke. It exploded into a swarm of deadly razors flying in Peter's direction at breakneck speed.
NO! Peter thought as he did his best to weave through the deadly whirlwind of metal. TOO FAST! He screamed internally as a razor cut through one of the tubes leading from his backpack to his web-shooters.
Before he could react another bomb exploded right next to him. The spark from the bomb along with the compressed gas leaking from his backpack made an explosion that shot Peter through a pillar holding up the roof. The warehouse groaned as it finally started to cave in because of the structural damage from their fight.
The roof collapsed. Peter screamed in pain as a heavy piece of metal pinned him to the floor. Luckily the warehouse had a glass roof and Peter landed in the middle of it. He struggled to free himself from his gnarled cage.
"Down came the goblin," Hobgoblin said as he threw another bomb into the air and lazily plucked it out of its fall. "And washed the spider out."
Peter struggled desperately as Hobgoblin raised the bomb above his head.
IT CAN'T END LIKE THIS! Peter thought as he used all his might to try and push the metal off of himself. Angry tears stung in his eyes as his arms gave in, unable to free himself. I still have to tell Gwen!
There was a flash of black and the Hobgoblin flew off of his glider slamming into a piece of metal. In front of Peter stood a man dressed in yellow leggings and a long yellow sleeved shirt. A Red leotard held the outfit together. The man's face was covered by a red balaclava, and two batons rested easily in his hands.
"What the hell are you supposed to be?" Hobgoblin asked as he chucked a bomb at the man.
"Look out!" Peter yelled weakly as the man didn't move an inch. The bomb sailed harmlessly past him and plopped unceremoniously into the water.
The Hobgoblin yelped and jumped on his glider flying away into the night. The man didn't watch him go. Instead, he moved to Peter. Using his baton he tapped on the metal a few times. Every time he moved his baton to the right a little. Finally, he moved down and placed his hand on the metal.
"It's no use!" Peter said as he watched the man grip it with two hands. "I couldn't even lift it! And I've got super strength!"
"Push." The man said. Peter shut his mouth and pushed with all his might. The metal slid off and Peter stumbled forwards.
"How did you-?" Peter started but the man cut him off.
"Be quiet." He tilted his head and listened. "How are your cracked ribs healing that fast? Your burns as well."
The man put a hand on Peter's neck.
"Are you a mutant?" He asked.
"Mutate actually. I wasn't born with my powers. I got bitten by a radioactive spider." Peter said.
"Right." The man said and started walking away. "Stay out of my kitchen."
"Hey wait up!" Peter said as he limped after the man. "Who are you?"
"I'm the Devil." The man said and plucked a baton from his side. He pressed a button that revealed a long cord. He threw the baton at a nearby building where it perfectly snagged on the fire escape. With a running pull, he was off into the night, swinging away.
"I have to tell you something!" Peter said as he limped after the devil of Hell's Kitchen as fast as he could.
"Your costume sucks!" Peter screamed after him, wheezing from the pain in his chest. "And, thanks."
He added softly as he watched the devil swing out of sight. Behind Peter, a traffic cone started moving. Peter moved into a space between two warehouses where he dressed in his civilian clothes.
That's another costume down the drain. Peter thought as he walked off down the street. AND I need to make new web-shooters. Again.
Unobserved by Peter the traffic cone moved along behind him, propelled slowly forwards by oozing black tendrils.
That's all for chapter eight, folks. You'll have to wait till next week to see what happens next. This chapter ended a bit more morbidly than the others. It's Peter's first real loss. A bit shorter than the last two, I know, and I do apologize for that. I'll make up for it with the next one though.
Next time on Spiderman's Sensational adventures:
While on the hunt for the Hobgoblin and tracking down a mysterious disappearing bank robber, Peter notices that something is amiss with Alex. Peter Tries to find the Tentacled Swiss man and deal with his ever growing feelings for Gwen. Peter also meets up with two one of the most iconic side-characters in his colourful repertoire, one a sour-faced, and foul-mouthed editor, and one a slimy black companion...
Catch up with Spidey next week in CHAPTER NINE:
"A DAY AT THE BEACH!"