Disclaimer: Don't own it. Whose idea was it to put these things on top of fan fic, anyway? I know a lot of authors who would want that person gagged and beaten with a rusty rake. ~grin~ I, however, find it a challenge. Sometimes.
Now, keep in mind that I really have no idea how Spider Man's webshooters really work. The mechanical ones from the comic, I mean. I know there's a button, but that's the extent of my knowledge. If I have something radically wrong, please feel free to correct me.
Curiosity Nabbed the Spider
By Talia MT Ali
Mary Jane couldn't help it; her curiosity was killing her. Peter had already left, a full day of web-slinging/photography ahead of him. He had looked tired on his way out the window, but he always did these days. One super-villain after another reared their ugly heads, and Spider-Man was needed to shut them down. Mary Jane knew it, accepted it, but didn't like it one bit. Darn it if she could ever stop worrying about him.
MJ scarcely got any more sleep than Peter did, waiting up for him, and sometimes even being involved in his battles. That happened less as Spidey learned the ABC's to keeping the huge secret all New York was dying to know: Who Was Spider-Man?
It was just an ordinary Monday, but today was the day she happened to wonder how safe he really was out there. Besides the ordinary criminals (although coming to a robbery without some kind of costume was practically passé) and the idiots running around in masks, she worried about his equipment. Sure, the only real thing that could fail would be his web-shooters, but she worried. What if they both broke down while he was in the middle of a street? MJ couldn't even imagine what he would feel, having his ever-loyal web-shooters suddenly poop out. He would be a very flat red-and-blue Spidey pancake. The thought both amused her and brought frantic tears to her eyes.
In that state, she stumbled up the stairs and burst into Peter's room. She made a beeline for the closet, which had a false back. With all the reverence due it, she drew out the cardboard box containing his supplies.
Rising quickly, she drew the curtain and locked the door. It wouldn't do for someone to see her going through Spider-Man's things--in Peter's room. She could only imagine the scene that would cause.
Flipping her hair back over her shoulder, she sank again to her knees and removed the top of the box. On the very top were extra costumes of varying thicknesses. For different weather, she realized. New York was cold in the winter and spandex was just *not* going to cut it there--as cute as he did look in it. Setting those aside carefully, she next drew out her quarry: a shoebox full of spare web-shooters. Beside that was Peter's stock of web-fluid, a small jar of miniscule capsules. His fast-setting, unstable polymer that served for his web.
Mary Jane knew for a fact that Peter had two shooters he used consistently. Those were kept on him at all times, or in a secret pouch in his photography bag. She had watched him carefully clean those shooters, fix them, tune them and generally be as paranoid with them as a racecar driver was about his car. She had to know, though, what could go wrong.
The ones in the box were his spares, ones he kept around in case one of his regulars was crushed or flattened onto his arm. Most were older models of his current design, but still worked fine.
Mary Jane withdrew the shiniest slinger and deftly attached it to her arm with the Velcro. It took a bit of adjusting, as her arm was skinnier than Peter's, but she got it fitted comfortably. It seemed sturdy enough as she fiddled with it. It certainly wasn't going to blow away like so many spare parts.
Finally, it was in the proper position, lever in her palm. There were a few dangling wires that she didn't know what to do with, but she ignored them. Pressing the button a few times with the tips of her fingers, MJ saw that it opened a hole at the uppermost part of the slinger, enough to let a skinny stream of polymer through.
Thus far, the mechanism was unloaded. Picking one of the capsules up with her fingertips, she examined it. Some kind of alloy, to keep the chemical inside at high pressure yet allow for easy puncturing. It was a dusky bronze, scratched and faded.
The web-shooter was compact enough against her wrist for the location of the cartridge to be plain. However, inserting it was a different matter. It didn't help that she used her left hand, either. Finally she figured it out by flipping a shutter and sliding it in like a battery. It clicked in synthesized pleasure and the small door covering it popped closed.
Abruptly in her mind's eye the device began to radiate power and wholeness. This was it, what the web-shooter was designed for. This device had single-fingeredly held off crook and super-villain alike. It had been the facilitator for Spider-Man's most highly visible form of movement. The web-slinger had been created for the heights and came alive with the promise of action, much as Peter himself did.
Triumphantly, MJ pointed her wrist at the wall and jammed the button down. She felt the gears turn in the shooter, and braced herself for the flow. The woman knew what it looked like, knew how it felt, had seen Spider-Man press this button time after time...
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She froze for an instant. Pressing it again yielded no better results. Nothing came out, there were no sounds coming from the shooter other than the clank of well-oiled gears, and the lever demonstrated resistance to her push. Peter kept all his equipment in top shape, even the old shooters, so that he would never be surprised. It was easier to maintain them, he told her once, than to try to oil and clean them on his way out the door to cuckoo Doc Ock's clock.
That bell has long since rung, MJ corrected herself. Cuckoo as the brilliant scientist may be, his strength was formidable. Combined with the relentless untiring persistence of his metallic arms, he and Spider-Man often had to destroy city property three or four times before her husband came up with some new way to trap the bad Doctor. More often than not, MJ was left to tend a husband with multiple dislocations, bruises, cuts and occasionally broken bones, and Peter was left with two or three sets of costumes and web-shooters to resuscitate.
She turned her attention back to the recalcitrant shooter. It had to be in good working condition. There was something she wasn't doing right. The projecting wires danced in front of her nose, taunting. There had to be somewhere to stick those.
As she glanced over at his pile of spare costumes, she had a moment of brilliance. Spidey never just squeezed the lever. He had a funny way of doing it, with fingers extended and wrist outturned. She'd always assumed it was just habit or his method of aiming. She hadn't thought about it actually being necessary for the shooter to work...
Concentrating hard, she pictured Peter's gloved hand firing the web. Yes... as far as she remembered (she was usually screaming in terror whenever he had to save her. That kind of thing tends to distract you) he directed his pinky and index finger outward, pressing the button with only two of his fingers. She made an approximation of his gesture and tried again. There was a bit of a hiss, but still nothing came at the wall.
Those wires, Mary Jane thought, probably detect the movement of the fingers. With the bit of science left to her after high school, she trialed and errored her way to success.
When the web-fluid did come out, it was such a shock that she merely stared at the webbed over photo of her parents for a few minutes. The stuff was obviously quite sticky. She wouldn't be able to clean it up until the webbing disintegrated after an hour.
"Wow," MJ breathed, examining the conglomeration of wires. Turning her wrist, another glob went wide and attached itself to the door, effectively boxing her in. She groaned.
Considerable experimentation showed her to create different thicknesses of web, different textures and tackinesses, and taught her how to aim a little better. Missing her targets constantly was a problem though. She had to make frantic snatches for two vases and the precariously perched television in the corner. She started to enjoy herself, and only kept time by seeing which webs were dissolving within the allotted hour.
Next Chapter: Peter's adventures on the way home!
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