The Amazing Spider-Man Returns
Chapter 2: The Aftermath
Author's Note: Really enjoying working on this so far, it's interesting to work in the confines of what could have happened between TASM2 and No Way Home. Enjoy this chapter!
January 6th, 2015
High pitched, rhythmic beeps blared from Peter's alarm clock, forcing him to sluggishly roll over in his bed and turn it off. Peter yawned before puffing and collapsing onto his back, remembering the events of the night before, playing it all out in his head. Remembering the photos he sent to Jameson before he went to bed, Peter quickly pulled out his laptop, flipping the lid open, typing in his password and reloading the Daily Bugle webpage. A new article loaded – "Spidey's Back: Masked Menace Makes His Return". Disappointed, but not surprised, Peter sighed as he clicked on the article, finding his picture of Spidey swinging out of the building, a frame extracted from the full video. The article's page loaded – written by Jonah himself, he described the crime scene; "The crazed gunman Cletus Kasady, 32, held his ex-girlfriend, Hannah Grant, 29, at gunpoint in a tense standoff with NYPD last night. For better or for worse, New York's very own menace Spider-Man, seemingly back from his retirement, showed up at the scene, endangering poor Hannah Grant's life by interfering with police work."
Peter scowled. Of course he should expend this kind of slander from a guy like Jonah, but seriously? "Endangering poor Hannah's life"? Sure, it was risky, but ultimately Spidey was trying to save her; surely that should be obvious? Peter rolled his eyes and tried to think nothing of it as he read on.
"Nonetheless, Spidey's radical tactics worked as he lured Kasady away from Grant. Police stormed the apartment building after Kasady's gun seemingly misfired, finding Kasady webbed to the floor by his hands and feet. Miss Grant luckily was unharmed, however experienced a near miss with the stray bullet impacting the wall above her head. Kasady required medical attention after experiencing breathing difficulties, said to be caused by the wall-crawler himself."
This shocked Peter. He remembered lashing out in a fit of rage, punching Kasady in the chest. He recalled Kasady coughing as Spidey jumped out the kitchen window. Ever since Pete was bitten by that radioactive spider while sneaking into Oscorp, he had been aware of his enhanced strength, learning through a fight on the subway and by causing accidental damage to his household appliances that he needed to dial it down a bit, to keep himself in check. This time, Spidey lost his cool. He needed to be more careful. Pete paused for a moment as he reflected on this before scrolling further down the article, finding a picture from Eddie Brock, the Bugle's resident photographer, showing Kasady, dirty face and shaved ginger hair, being guided into the back of an ambulance. Downstairs, Peter heard May's voice; she was on the phone.
"What was that?" he heard her muffled voice echo up the stairs. "Oh yes, Peter – he's doing better, better than he was anyway. He's going out a lot more now."
Peter's mouth curled; May must be talking to one of her nurse friends.
"Yes, he's been looking at getting his own apartment," May replied, "It'll be strange to be all alone here."
Pete jolted as he remembered that today he had arranged to look around an apartment downtown in about an hour's time. He jumped out of bed, rummaging through his clothes to throw together a nice outfit; a black, slim-fit sweatshirt and some dark blue jeans. Peter fastened his belt as he quickly stepped down the stairs, Aunt May's voice growing louder as he got closer.
"They do grow up fast, don't they?" May chuckled, turning to see Peter, "Oh Paula, I'd better go," she said, startled, "I'll catch up with you later. Bye bye."
May put her mobile down; a smart phone Peter bought her as a gift with some of his Bugle money.
"Hey, I've got that apartment to look at downtown," Peter said, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of milk. "It's pretty early, so I gotta get ready."
"Look at you," May said, folding some clothes, "Out in the real world."
"Maybe," Peter said softly, pulling a box of cereal out of the cupboard, "Depends on how well this goes."
"Well, I'm sure you'll love it," May said reassuringly, "Maybe if that Jonah guy paid you more, you could get a nicer place."
Peter chuckled as he prepared his breakfast. "If Jonah paid me more, I'd be more concerned about making sure you can pay the bills without working overtime."
May waved him off. "Oh, Peter, don't worry about that," she said, sorting the clothes into a pile. "I don't mind; and it means I get to see the girls from work more."
"Right," Peter said sarcastically after taking a mouthful of cereal, "Because Paula's gossip sounds so intriguing."
His aunt chuckled before looking at him with some disapproval. "Peter, please tell me you'll shower before you go out. You reek."
Peter sniffed his armpit. He did, indeed, reek. "It can get pretty sweaty in that costume," Peter thought to himself before replying out loud. "Yeah, of course," he said quietly.
Peter jumped out the taxi, the wind blowing his hair. The idea of getting the web-shooters out didn't even occur to him; for months now, Peter had readjusted to using public transport having given up all aspects of Spider-Man. Walking up to the apartment building, Peter spotted a man outside. He was balding and wearing a loose black cardigan. Upon seeing Peter, he smiled and reached his hand out.
"You must be Peter!" the man said in a vaguely eastern-European accent, "I am your landlord; you can call me Mr. Ditkovich!"
Peter shook Mr Ditkovich's hand; he had a strong grip. "Wow, it's nice to meet you," Peter said kindly, trying to let go as the handshake was getting a bit awkward.
Mr Ditkovich patted him on the shoulder. "And you!" he exclaimed, "Now, let's get to it, huh? Follow me, I'll show you to the room!"
The two entered the apartment complex, Ditkovich leading Peter into a dirty elevator. Ditkovich pressed for Floor 11.
"I wouldn't get used to this," Ditkovich said jokingly, "The bloody things hardly work!"
Peter chuckled as the elevator doors slid shut and they began rising through the building. Mr Ditkovitch hummed a tune to himself, leaving Peter standing there awkwardly before he made more conversation.
"Hey, you seen the news?" Ditkovitch asked with a grin as the elevator whirred, "Spider-Man; he's back!"
Peter's eyes widened a little. "Oh, yeah," he said with mock positivity, "Yeah, well I take pictures of him, actually."
Ditkovich's eyebrows rose on his forehead as he stepped closer. "Oo, really?" he asked, amazed, "Who for?"
"Uh, the Daily Bugle," Peter explained awkwardly. Ditkovitch scowled as he took another step back.
"The Bugle," he spat, "That Jameson man, he never has a nice thing to say about anything, least of all Spider-Man!"
Peter chuckled. "Yeah, well I haven't even got the staff job, so there's nothing I can do about that."
The elevator dinged as they arrived on Floor 11, the doors rattling as they slid open. Mr Ditkovich led Peter out and showed him to a door, pulling a key out of his pocket.
"This," he said excitedly, sliding the key in the lock, "Is your room!" The landlord tried turning the key, however it seemed to jam in the lock. The landlord struggled for a few seconds, with Peter raising his hand to see if he needed assistance, before the door finally unlocked and swung open. Ditkovich chuckled, "Heh, the door, it's a bit faulty; but strong young man like you, it will be no problem!"
Ditkovich guided Peter into the apartment. Pete looked around, examining every detail; sure, it was a little small, but it was affordable and it had a pretty good view. Ditkovich let Peter explore it a bit before he started going into the details.
"Now, if you want it, the rent would be $1,400," Ditkovich explained. Peter thought as to whether the Bugle money would be enough to cover this, contemplating the possibility of getting another part-time job or maybe asking for a staff job at the Bugle. "If that is alright, then we can negotiate when you want to move in."
Peter slowly turned, looking around the room. "Uh, yeah," he said, "That should be alright..."
"Excellent!" said Ditkovich approvingly, "When would you like to start?"
The current date was January 6th, 2015. Peter knew he would need to buy some time to collect his savings and to look at job possibilities. "How about the start of February?" Pete asked.
Ditkovich clapped his hands together. "Of course! Plenty of time, plenty of time!" He came up to Peter and shook his hand once more, laughing as he patted him on the arm. "Good boy, Peter!"
Peter opened the door, finding May watching TV in the living room. She turned around excitedly.
"How did it go, Pete?" she asked as Peter walked into the living room.
"Pretty good," Peter smiled, "I'm gonna be moving in."
May's mouth dropped as she went to hug her nephew, "Oh, Peter, that's great news – great news!" she exclaimed.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Peter said, patting May on the back, "Alright, May, alright..."
"How much is it?" May asked, sitting back down, "Can you afford it?"
"Uh... I will be able to," Peter said awkwardly, slumping onto the sofa.
"What's that supposed to mean?" May asked, confused, "How much is the rent?"
"$1400 per month," Peter replied, eyes glazed over as he looked at the TV before snapping out of it and reassuring his aunt. "But it's fine. I'll look at a part-time job or something."
"Oh, Pete," she said, "You'd better start looking soon."
Peter was quiet as he kept staring at the TV.
"Peter?" May asked gently, "You will be alright on your own, won't you?"
He knew where this was heading. "Yes, May, I'll be fine," he replied with faux confidence.
"I just worry about you," May vented, "I know you're doing better than you were, but if you're on your own, I wouldn't want you to feel like you have no one to talk to, and..."
"Trust me, May," Peter interrupted quietly, "I'm gonna be okay."
"Just promise me that you'll call me, okay?" May requested, "Don't lose touch, now."
Peter sighed. "Alright, May, alright," he said softly. Even the slightest reference to Gwen's death pained him. In his head, it was just better to get the conversation over with as quickly as possible, to just say whatever May wanted to hear, even if he didn't really mean it. May was the only person he really spoke to nowadays; he used to have Facebook, but he never really checked it. Too many people tried to get in touch with him after Gwen's death and it was just too overwhelming for him. Still, remembering his account sparked the idea to maybe check it again, to try and find people to talk to who weren't his aunt, as lovely as she was.
"Hey, I'd better check my e-mails," Peter lied, standing up, "I'll come back down in a bit."
"Okay, Peter," May replied, still concerned.
Peter entered his bedroom and pulled out his laptop once again, retyping his password and opening Chrome. He logged into his Facebook account and saw there were dozens of notifications; messages from old classmates. Most surprisingly of all, Flash Thompson had been frequently sending him messages to check in on him. To be fair to Flash, despite his previous antagonistic behaviour, he and Peter got along fairly well, especially after his Uncle Ben died; in fact, Flash was one of the first people from school to give his condolences. Ever since then, they had been on pretty good terms. Peter opened up the chat.
"Hey Pete, merry Christmas! Haven't heard from ya in a while. Hope you're holding up okay," sent on December 25th, 2014. Before that, a series of other messages: "Sup Pete, hope to hear from ya soon," sent on December 1st, 2014. "Hey there Pete, hope everything's alright, send a message when you're free," sent on November 9th, 2014. Peter stopped there, feeling a little emotional. Of all his former classmates who had even made an effort to get in touch with Pete, Flash Thompson of all people had been the one who kept at it. Now that it was visible that Pete had seen Flash's messages, Peter felt obligated to reply.
"Hey Flash," he typed, "Sorry I didn't see any of these, but thanks anyway for trying to keep in touch." Peter paused to think how to continue before just deciding to sign off. "Send a message whenever you can." Pete's little finger clicked the enter key, sending the message. After checking that it had gone through, Pete shut his laptop, placing it at the end of his bed. Grabbing his phones and plugging in his earphones, he decided to kick back for a while, the soothing guitar intro of "Gone Gone Gone" by Phillip Phillips playing out as he stretched out across his bed, resting his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling.
It was visiting hours in Ravencroft. Harry Osborn, face scarred and hair greasy, sat on one side of a glass panel. On the other, a man sat wearing a bowler hat and a smart suit jacket. Gustav Fiers, also known as the Gentleman, had been working with Osborn to form a group of super-villains to take advantage of a city lacking Spider-Man. However, in an unexpected twist, Fiers' plot to equip Alexei Systevich with the Rhino mech attracted the wall crawler's attention, and now he had to deliver Harry the bad news.
"I take it you've heard the news," Fiers said in his rough New Yorker accent, "You have heard, right?"
"Spider-Man is back," Harry said softly, despite his anger, "And Alexei let us down."
"It was an unexpected setback," Fiers reasoned, "But with the weapons Oscorp still has available, we've got plenty of chances to try again."
"So, what next?" Osborn said, speaking louder, "What do you have in mind this time?"
"We have two options," Fiers explained, "The Vulture wings, and the mechanical arms. I'm just going to need time to find a suitable candidate."
"A suitable candidate," Harry chuckled, "What? Another crazy, Russian criminal? I mean, come on, Fiers, we can't just select amateurs for this!"
"Hey," Fiers shot back, raising his finger at Osborn, "How was I to know that Spider-Man would be coming back? Trust me, I've been keeping a close eye on that boy for a while now, there was no sign, no hint he would ever be causing trouble again."
"Of course," Harry clicked his tongue, "Parker. How is he doing, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Still living at his Aunt's house," Gustav replied. "Look, let's see how things are in the near future. We'll see how active Spider-Man is and move from there."
"Just wait and see? That's your plan?" Osborn asked in silent anger, "Parker ruined my life; he made me this way – he should have just finished killing me that night at the clock tower."
"Look, my time's running up, Osborn," Fiers sighed, "Like I said, I'll keep an eye on the boy. I'll be seeing you soon."
Harry glared at Fiers as he stood up from his seat, adjusting his hat and walking away. Two security guards came to collect Harry, standing either side of him as they walked him back to his cell. All the while on the walk back, Harry mulled over their conversation. The unlikely had happened; Peter Parker, his childhood friend turned enemy, had taken up the mantle of Spider-Man once again. Maybe Fiers had a point, to wait and see what Parker had in store next, but if he kept causing trouble then maybe it was time to take more direct action to stop Spider-Man's interference.
Peter lay in bed that evening thinking about the course he was heading on. For the first time in his life, he would be independent of Aunt May. For the first time, he would live completely alone. He had always fantasized about buying an apartment one day with Gwen, where they could move in together. But in Peter Parker's life, things rarely go the way he hoped they would. His eyelids slowly forcing themselves shut without even realising, Peter began to fall asleep.
Air rushing past him as he dove down head first through the clock tower, Peter fired a web straight ahead of him. Through the lenses of his mask, he saw Gwen, her blonde hair rushing and swirling through the air as she faced up towards him, her face showing shock and desperation as the distance between her and her boyfriend grew further by the second. Fortunately, the web caught up with her, reaching out like a hand, inching closer and closer by the second. The web made contact with her stomach; any later and she would have hit the ground. Gwen recoiled, her body thrashing as the web suddenly stopped her fall. Peter landed on his feet, approaching Gwen's body, held up by a string. Her expression was lifeless. The sound of laughter began echoing through the tower; that laughter.
Peter jolted awake, sitting up in his bed, panting, out of breath. He wiped the sweat off his face and lay back down. The same nightmare Peter had regularly been experiencing, always with that same twist; the maniacal cackling of Harry Osborn, the sole person responsible for his life taking such a dark turn. After sobbing over Gwen's body, his sadness soon turned to rage as he quickly crawled up the walls of that clock tower and onto the platform where he found Harry, the Green Goblin, just waking from his unconsciousness. He grabbed Harry, slamming him against a wall to prop him up and unloaded, unleashing punch after punch onto his exhausted opponent. Instead of begging for mercy, Harry simply laughed. As Peter paused for breath, preparing himself to deliver the killing blow, one sentence from his foe stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Will you be responsible for another death tonight?"
These words shook Peter to his core, bringing great amusement to Harry who just cackled and cackled. Overwhelmed, infuriated, shaken up, Peter spun a web, trapping Harry before leaving, climbing out of the clock tower and swinging away into the night.
Deep down, Peter wished he could have killed Harry that night. If not to save Gwen, he would go back and deliver that finishing blow, to stop any words exiting that maniac's mouth, anything that meant he wouldn't be cooped up in some prison. Peter tried to go back to sleep, yet he just lay there for hours and hours, eyes wide open.
January 7th, 2015
The alarm clock read 3:09am. Peter had been awake for hours. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence; in fact, Peter had gotten used to accepting that he was now awake rather than growing in frustration as he tried to fall back to sleep. His mind went through the same routine; the aftermath of the clock tower incident. Sometimes Pete would go back and read through the articles written at the time, even though it did him no good.
"Girl dead, Spider-Man to blame?" a Bugle headline read, written by J. Jonah Jameson, of course. Despite his apparent concern and respect towards the Stacy family, Peter knew deep down that this was just more ammunition for him to fuel his baseless slander campaign against Spider-Man; except this time, Jonah actually had a point. Sure, if it weren't for Osborn, Gwen Stacy would never have fallen down that clock tower; but Spider-Man was the one who, in his attempt to catch her with his web, snapped her neck as a result of whiplash. The article described the crime scene; a haunting image of Stacy lying limp on the ground floor, a web dangling directly above her, all the while a crazed lunatic lay trapped a few dozen floors up. Jonah was quick to remind readers that this was not the first time a Stacy died at the scene of a Spider-Man fight, referencing the death of Captain George Stacy upon the Oscorp rooftop. Bullshit, Peter thought. What a load of bullshit. But then again, maybe he shouldn't have left Mr Stacy to fend for himself against the Lizard. Not the only time Peter would let him down – he couldn't even fulfil his dying wish.
Defeated, Peter lay back in bed. Eventually, the thoughts, while strong and violent, would fade and disappear and be replaced with his desire to sleep, to which his body answered.