A/N: OK Spidey fans, more action abounds this chapter! Don't go away!

(and excuse the title pun…)

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Chapter 21: 'Wrapsody' in Grey.

A soft momentary susurration filled the air as Spidey passed by on her webs. She was swinging over Greenwich Village on her way to Beak Nose's place, playing on a hunch. Her spidey sense should soon tell her whether it was a waste of her time or not, but she hoped she was right; it was about time something good happened today.

There she blows! Spidey landed on the edge of parapet at the back of Beaky's apartment building, and immediately leant over the edge and started crawling down the rough brickwork exterior. Man, but this wall-crawling business was still freaky at times. Erica shut her eyes tight for a moment, then opened them, finding herself still adhering to the wall face-down.

Snapping herself out of her fleeting disorientation, she angled herself sideways and skittered around the corner of the building. She gave a little leap off the wall to avoid an air-conditioning unit, and landed back on all fours, like a cat that had jumped in surprise. Or a spider… Spidey cornered again, and carefully approached Beak Nose's lounge window. She cautiously peered over the side of the window frame to discover… the curtains had been drawn.

Her spider-sense told her someone was home, and she wondered if old Beaky was entertaining visitors; he hadn't bothered to draw curtains last night, and she got the impression it wasn't an activity he had the habit of.

Spidey turned and went back the way she had come. The AC unit was near a window that possibly led to a bedroom, and she meant to enter through it if she could and see who was inside. The window was not locked; as quietly as she was able, Spidey pushed the sash open and climbed through into the darkened room. She kept on climbing; in this situation, the ceiling was the safest place to be, to remain unseen up in the shadows of the high-stud rooms.

Crawling through the door opening was so like climbing over a low wall that Spidey chuckled silently to herself, remembering a story she had read as a child about a man who tricked some plaguey mice by gluing all his furniture upside-down to the ceiling - they had all fainted from shock, believing themselves to be sticking to the ceiling.

Well, she was like those mice, except it was real and she was not going to faint…

A light showed through the open door of the lounge up ahead. Spidey stayed in the hall and poked her head so she could see under the door jamb into the room. There was Beak Nose, and with him, Mouse Hair, who had his back to her, as before.

Beak Nose's profile was shown to great advantage as they sat in armchairs drawn up closely together around a coffee table that as well as the ubiquitous PDAs, had papers strewn over it. Spidey wished she could see what the papers were, or what they were talking about on their PDAs.

So far, she had very little information on these mute powerhouses; her wee side-trip this morning back to the community building had been spectacularly uninformative, even going as a visitor from New Zealand, interested in the US approach to language therapy. Knowing how Americans loved statistics, she'd asked the tall blonde woman who was the secretary of the local organisation, the numbers of different reasons their clients needed their services.

'Um, cancer of the tongue, for instance?'

'Oh, very rare - can only think of one, a dear old man of 83 who had unfortunately been a heavy smoker all his life…'

Spidey didn't think that description fitted Beaky, not unless he were a lot older than he looked.

She quickly whipped her head back a bit - Mouse had stood up, throwing off his coat as he did so, revealing him to be dressed head to toe in the close-fitting grey fatigues of the cult. He faced Beak Nose, and carried out a curious little ritual that looked to Spidey's eyes almost like a Muslim salute; hand to mouth, then moving down to touch his chest over his heart. Were these some sort of Muslim terrorists then? She rapidly skittered back down the hall into the far shadows by the bedroom door, as Mouse turned to take his leave.

This was the occasion for a tracer, thought Spidey, as she threw one to land accurately on his back as he came out of the lounge. She waited until he had left the front door before swiftly exiting the same way she had entered.

Outside, she breathed out a huge sigh; keeping that silent sure played on the nerves. What was he up to? Spidey had the impression that Mouse was on a mission. As she flittered from building to building, following Mouse, she realised she hadn't yet seen his face, not only that, but she couldn't just swoop down on him and try to get some answers from him; how would he tell? And now he was headed for…. Washington Square? No, not the Square itself; the subway station. How was she going to follow him now?

She dropped to the ground outside the subway entrance Mouse had entered, and stood very briefly in uffish thought. She might be able to slip in unobserved, and see which train he took; if she remembered correctly what Peter had told her about some stations…

Keeping to the roof of the station, it was straight-forward for Spidey to lightly manoeuvre herself so that she was hidden above the large cylindrical pipes that made up the service ducting. Slithering along, scanning the platform below with two disparate senses, she spied the object of her hunt in amongst the other travellers; the back of Mouse's head as he waited for the train. Spidey waited, slightly confused, listening to the announcements broadcast out over the cavernous area. She really would have to get the Metro system sorted out.

The train pulled in, C line, Uptown, destined for Washington Heights/168th St, stopping at points along the way… Spidey read the information on the carriages, but needed some more; a map. Peter wouldn't have this problem, she grumbled to herself…

Quickly, keeping an eye on Mouse to be sure that he was taking that train and not another, she raced along the top of the pipe towards the ticket booth. A large-scale map was attached to the wall nearby, but she didn't want to get close enough to read it and take the chance that Mouse might look back and see her.

The train started pulling out; Spidey noticed a pile of the free maps in a display stand and sent down a gossamer-thin strand of web to snatch one up. Tucking it into her belt as she swiftly made her way out of the station and not bothering now about being seen, as Mouse was safely invisible in the departing subway car, Spidey reached the street level and immediately headed uptown on her webs.

If she'd had her clothes with her, then she could have taken the same train… Spidey mused as she travelled from station to station along the route of the C line train. She knew she wouldn't be fast enough to keep up with it, even with it stopping at each stop, but she hoped that her spider-sense would pick up the tracer when Mouse left the train and she could catch up with him then.

On she went, heading north and glad that she was no longer coughing at all - that would slow her down, but so would tiredness; how far up was Mouse going?

Up past Times Square, past Columbus circle; she'd covered almost half the length of Manhattan with no tickle from the tracer at all. She had reached the station at 72nd Street, on Central Park West, and had plopped down on a canopy near the entrance to scan around with her sense, but mainly to have a breather while she had the chance.

There. The faintest tickle, gradually becoming stronger as the tracer, and Mouse, neared. The back of his head appeared, bobbing upwards to street level as he exited the subway station along with a small gush of people.

How about that? Spidey had got there before the train! There must have been a hold up of some kind, she thought, as she watched Mouse walk unhurriedly down the street, and stop a way.

These were some of New York's most expensive and exclusive addresses, though perhaps not as elegant as those across the Park - though just here was the famous Dakota building. However, Mouse had not stopped there, but at the next building; an apartment hotel that was still an address to aspire to.

He was paused there so long, that Spidey began to wonder if he were waiting for someone, or a signal. Then she saw him walk up to the front door, try it, and step in. Didn't these kind of places have fancy flunkies, door-men or something to keep the riffraff out? A horrible thought struck her - what if he lived here!

Alighting neatly on the stone frontage, Spidey began finessing her tracking of the spider-tracer, trying to pin-point it's whereabouts inside. Ah, there. She crept lithely up the facade, following her trace until it stopped about three-quarters of the way up the building.

She jumped lightly onto the balcony and peered unobtrusively into the closest window, where she saw a living area larger than the whole of Peter's flat, done up in the type of decor that said 'I don't need to be trendy when I can afford to have these little pieces to use everyday'. Indirect lighting gleamed discreetly off gilded and glazed surfaces; intimate groupings of furniture that was both plush and uncomfortable looking at the same time were dotted about the room; and to one side, a black walnut writing desk was open, revealing computer equipment that was normally hidden by cabinet doors when not in use.

It was being used at this moment by a large man in his late fifties who was comfortably upholstered himself. He looked up towards the other end of the room where the interior door was, as if he had heard a knock; a second later, Mouse burst in.

Spidey almost gasped aloud - this was the first time she had seen his face, and it appeared that more than his tongue had been mutilated - but there was no time to dwell on this; Mouse was bearing down onto his would-be victim, and from his attitude, he wasn't there to have a cosy chat.

Without any more ado, Spidey leapt in through the window, crossing her arms to protect her head from the glass that showered inwards. Mouse stepped away from his target, and grabbed the nearest chair which he threw, hard, at Spidey. She leapt up to the ceiling to avoid it, heard it crash on the carpet and at the same time heard a small moan of anguish from the apartment's occupier.

"Thanks anyway, but I didn't want a seat," she quipped.

Using her spider speed she jumped down from her perch, landing on her hands, and doing a handspring so that her feet hit him in the ribs, and knocked him sideways. She knew what to expect in a fight with these guys; knew how strong they were and she was prepared. No pulling punches, and don't let any of his connect.

Mouse regained his balance and swung a hit at Spidey; "Missed!" she quickly ducked under his arm and struck him on the chin, then leapt away before he could close in on her again.

"You've got the complexion of an oxidised potato, this can only be an improvement!" she taunted.

He staggered slightly, but turned and charged for her, knocking over an occasional table and the object d'art displayed on it, and breaking pieces underfoot as he went. Another moan issued from the side of the room. Spidey waited until Mouse was close, then shot some webbing into his eyes as she sprung clear. "See?"

He automatically raised his hands to tear it from his deeply pitted face, but blinded, crashed into the wall, and the large ornate pier mirror.

As the fine shards of glass came raining down on him, Spidey grabbed Mouse by the front, hoisted him up and slugged him with her fist. He went crashing back into the broken mirror, and Spidey was left holding the torn shreds ripped from his grey uniform. And something else... a red ribbon? She stepped closer to him and bent down over his prostate form, inspecting his chest - there, some more of the ribbon. Carefully, she pulled it out then folded it and tucked it inside her boot - it may be of interest to her later - and removed the spider tracer from his clothing while she was about it.

She had forgotten the intended victim, until a querulous voice behind her interrupted her in the process of webbing Mouse immobile.

"That was a French Rococo mirror. Who's going to pay for all this damage?"

Spidey slowly turned her opaque eyes onto the man. "A simple 'thank-you' would suffice for saving your life."

When the portly man still complained, she added, "Or how about you get on the blower to Sergeant Bill Hudson at Midtown South Precinct, and tell him Spider-Man's left a gift-wrapped pressie for him; I'm sure he'll want to know."

She bounced over to the window, followed by even louder complaints, and paused there for a moment. She raised a hand.

"Nope, no more thanks, please. You're making me blush!" and the next moment, she was gone.

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A/N: Yes, another one! Thanks for the reviews. I love sharing my story, and I'm just glad that some people appreciate it. I have the whole thing plotted out, and I know exactly where I'm going with it, but the writing of it is getting a bit slower now - trying not to repeat myself or drop any 'stitches' of the plot, so to speak. Ideas? Well, I started with the idea of Spider-Man losing his powers (it's happened before…) and once I had that, others started coming - out of the ether I suppose, though often I can visualise the scenes, and they're so real, but I just can't do justice to them with my descriptions… I can see why people become film directors!

Cheers, Apteryx