Dear Readers, hope you're enjoying the end of the first story arc as I'm
hoping to finish it at chapter eight. Just to warn you that the next story
arc is going to be a corker, the villain is original again and he's going
to rock your world. To answer many people's emails and one reviewer's
comment, I'm using Word for Macintosh as I have a Mac (obviously) and
that's why my line spacing is always double what it should be because
otherwise when I upload it to ff.net it comes out without line breaks and
it reads terribly. Those of you looking for an example can read my story:
The Miracle. I'd also like to recommend Spider-Man: Reborn by The Hammer as
I've read half of it and it's pretty good, while you're waiting for me to
update of course. Thank you to all reviewers (especially Apteryx who
reviewed several times) and those who've taken the time to email me
personally, enjoy this chapter and keep reviewing. Yours, True Believer.
Chapter Six: Urban Legends
It was Saturday morning and Peter awoke way too early for the miniscule amount of sleep he'd gotten last night, he'd be lucky if he ever had a good night's sleep again after what he'd done. He could hear his aunt going through the daily routine downstairs and guessed she was trying to be as normal as possible for Peter, he'd better exchange the same courtesy to her. Slipping on some rough clothes he slowly padded bare foot downstairs, his aunt was cooking breakfast in the kitchen and Peter could hear his uncle's newspaper being shoved unceremoniously through the letterbox. Peter went over and pulled the Bugle from the hands of the unsuspecting paperboy to read the front page, the headline seemed incredibly unusual. I read:
JACK'S BACK
ripper terrorises new york
"Huh," Peter said as he walked into the kitchen, "oh no," he noticed another smaller headline underneath about uncle Ben's murder. He couldn't bear to read the article but two words stuck out at him like sore thumbs, "Murder" and "Freak". It also mentioned uncle Ben's name, a fact that would soon annoy Peter.
"Morning Peter," aunt May said, "why don't you sit down for breakfast?"
"Sure aunt May," Peter said distractedly, May ignored it however as Peter had good reason to be distracted. Peter sat down at the table in his chair and aunt May brought three plates of cooked breakfast out, placing one by each chair.
"There you go, eat up," she said happily as she sat down for hers. Both she and Peter simultaneously noticed the third plate, May stood up and quietly took it back into the kitchen. When she came back Peter decided to try and get her mind off Ben.
"Seen the headlines today?"
"You mean the Jack the Ripper thing? Yes," May sliced up her bacon, "it was on the radio while I was cooking."
"Bugle's got photos," Peter said nonchalantly, "they very nearly put me off my breakfast."
"Wow, it takes a lot to put you off of food," she paused but could not contain her curiosity, "what are they of?"
"A dead woman with words sliced into her back," aunt May gestured for him to elaborate, "From Hell."
"Oh my."
"Some lunatic is murdering prostitutes to send messages to Captain Stacy," Peter said between shovelling forkfuls of bacon into his mouth.
"Isn't he that girl Gwen's father?" Aunt May asked, "You know, the one you're always talking about."
"Gwen!" Peter said with realisation, he'd forgotten to cancel their date and he'd been so rude to her on Thursday. He shot up and ran up to have a shower, he needed to run round Gwen's as soon as possible to apologise.
"Teenagers," May sighed to herself before continuing with her breakfast.
It was a hot day, stifling, and Peter had on his costume beneath his street clothes just in case something happened. He walked for twenty minutes before reaching Gwen's, rapping on the door with his knuckles. A man in a long brown trench coat came to the door and stepped out onto the porch, he was in his late thirties and had light brown hair but he looked like he hadn't shaved in days.
"Hello?"
"Hi I'm Peter Parker," Peter introduced himself, "I'm here to see Gwen."
"You're Peter Parker?"
"Yes," Peter was getting concerned, "why?"
"I wouldn't want to be you after last night."
"Neither would I," Peter assumed the man knew about his uncle.
"I'm Captain Stacy by the way," he introduced himself, "George if Gwen likes you."
"Thanks," Peter gestured towards the door, "can I go in?"
"You can, just shut the door after you, I'm going to work."
"Oh, it was nice meeting you sir."
"I hope to see you again Peter," Captain Stacy said as he got into his car, Peter could see the berry light on the dash denoting that it was a police car.
Peter stepped into the house and called out, "Gwen?" to a seemingly empty house. He stayed stood in the sitting room and called out as though speaking to somebody, "I'm sorry."
No answer.
"I've not been feeling myself lately," Peter called out as way of explanation, "I've been getting used to some changes and I know I acted like a real idiot."
"Yeah you did," a girl's voice came down the stairs, closely followed by the girl herself. "I just." Peter paused wondering whether to tell her the truth, but he couldn't, she'd hate him for what he'd done to uncle Ben.
"You just what?"
"Last night," Peter continued, "my uncle," he couldn't even say it, "he was murdered."
"Oh my god Peter," Gwen said as she ran up and embraced him with a hug. Peter stood there limp and not returning it, "It's ok to be upset Peter."
Peter pushed Gwen away so she could see his eyes, "I'm done crying for uncle Ben," he said purposefully, "all I've got to do is keep the promise I made him."
"What?"
"I can't tell you, but it means that I'm going to be pretty busy," Peter walked away and stood with his back to her, "I need to be alone for a while."
"You what?"
"I need you," Peter replied and Gwen smiled, "but only as a friend."
"That's fine with me Peter," Gwen lied, "I'll wait as long as you need."
"Thank you," Peter said, "I have to go, I've got some things to do."
"Bye Peter," Gwen said as he walked out of her house, "goodbye," she repeated and her fake smile faded as she leant against the back of her door and slid down to a seated position on the floor. She wanted to cry, but felt too guilty, how could she be upset that Peter needed space after his uncle was murdered.
Night fell over the city and the vibrant nightlife was being born. However two killers stepped out that night too, one a young man eager to fulfil a promise to his unintended victim. The amazing Spider-Man was swinging from building to building through the concrete jungle leaving a trail of sticky white vines, he landed on a familiar ledge next to a familiar gargoyle and patted it on the head almost playfully.
"Hi Joe," he whispered to the silent stone monstrosity, "nice night, seen any people need saving tonight?"
The silence said it all.
Directly down in the street below a man was staggering along the street carrying a woman on his back, the woman was very scantily clad and looked a little like a cheap prostitute. Her eyes were closed and her mouth laid open as though she had passed out and the man was wearing biker's leathers and he stank of alcohol, he dropped her on the steps of the church and bent over her. Across the street a tramp was laid down in a doorway and his eyes were drawn to slits as he watched on the verge of consciousness, a glint of moonlight reflecting off metal shone into his eyes. The tiny sliver of steel span around in the man's hand, suddenly all appearance of drunkenness in the man disappeared and it was replaced by a hunched-over position above the woman's body. She was dead and had been for nearly an hour, the man ripped off the clothing on her upper body and made several swift and methodical cuts. He then made two long painstaking strokes before standing up and wiping her blood from his hands, walking towards the large arched doors of the church he pulled out a large knife, one that had to be flicked from a cover. He then carved three words into the old oak door.
"Jack was here."
Chapter Six: Urban Legends
It was Saturday morning and Peter awoke way too early for the miniscule amount of sleep he'd gotten last night, he'd be lucky if he ever had a good night's sleep again after what he'd done. He could hear his aunt going through the daily routine downstairs and guessed she was trying to be as normal as possible for Peter, he'd better exchange the same courtesy to her. Slipping on some rough clothes he slowly padded bare foot downstairs, his aunt was cooking breakfast in the kitchen and Peter could hear his uncle's newspaper being shoved unceremoniously through the letterbox. Peter went over and pulled the Bugle from the hands of the unsuspecting paperboy to read the front page, the headline seemed incredibly unusual. I read:
JACK'S BACK
ripper terrorises new york
"Huh," Peter said as he walked into the kitchen, "oh no," he noticed another smaller headline underneath about uncle Ben's murder. He couldn't bear to read the article but two words stuck out at him like sore thumbs, "Murder" and "Freak". It also mentioned uncle Ben's name, a fact that would soon annoy Peter.
"Morning Peter," aunt May said, "why don't you sit down for breakfast?"
"Sure aunt May," Peter said distractedly, May ignored it however as Peter had good reason to be distracted. Peter sat down at the table in his chair and aunt May brought three plates of cooked breakfast out, placing one by each chair.
"There you go, eat up," she said happily as she sat down for hers. Both she and Peter simultaneously noticed the third plate, May stood up and quietly took it back into the kitchen. When she came back Peter decided to try and get her mind off Ben.
"Seen the headlines today?"
"You mean the Jack the Ripper thing? Yes," May sliced up her bacon, "it was on the radio while I was cooking."
"Bugle's got photos," Peter said nonchalantly, "they very nearly put me off my breakfast."
"Wow, it takes a lot to put you off of food," she paused but could not contain her curiosity, "what are they of?"
"A dead woman with words sliced into her back," aunt May gestured for him to elaborate, "From Hell."
"Oh my."
"Some lunatic is murdering prostitutes to send messages to Captain Stacy," Peter said between shovelling forkfuls of bacon into his mouth.
"Isn't he that girl Gwen's father?" Aunt May asked, "You know, the one you're always talking about."
"Gwen!" Peter said with realisation, he'd forgotten to cancel their date and he'd been so rude to her on Thursday. He shot up and ran up to have a shower, he needed to run round Gwen's as soon as possible to apologise.
"Teenagers," May sighed to herself before continuing with her breakfast.
It was a hot day, stifling, and Peter had on his costume beneath his street clothes just in case something happened. He walked for twenty minutes before reaching Gwen's, rapping on the door with his knuckles. A man in a long brown trench coat came to the door and stepped out onto the porch, he was in his late thirties and had light brown hair but he looked like he hadn't shaved in days.
"Hello?"
"Hi I'm Peter Parker," Peter introduced himself, "I'm here to see Gwen."
"You're Peter Parker?"
"Yes," Peter was getting concerned, "why?"
"I wouldn't want to be you after last night."
"Neither would I," Peter assumed the man knew about his uncle.
"I'm Captain Stacy by the way," he introduced himself, "George if Gwen likes you."
"Thanks," Peter gestured towards the door, "can I go in?"
"You can, just shut the door after you, I'm going to work."
"Oh, it was nice meeting you sir."
"I hope to see you again Peter," Captain Stacy said as he got into his car, Peter could see the berry light on the dash denoting that it was a police car.
Peter stepped into the house and called out, "Gwen?" to a seemingly empty house. He stayed stood in the sitting room and called out as though speaking to somebody, "I'm sorry."
No answer.
"I've not been feeling myself lately," Peter called out as way of explanation, "I've been getting used to some changes and I know I acted like a real idiot."
"Yeah you did," a girl's voice came down the stairs, closely followed by the girl herself. "I just." Peter paused wondering whether to tell her the truth, but he couldn't, she'd hate him for what he'd done to uncle Ben.
"You just what?"
"Last night," Peter continued, "my uncle," he couldn't even say it, "he was murdered."
"Oh my god Peter," Gwen said as she ran up and embraced him with a hug. Peter stood there limp and not returning it, "It's ok to be upset Peter."
Peter pushed Gwen away so she could see his eyes, "I'm done crying for uncle Ben," he said purposefully, "all I've got to do is keep the promise I made him."
"What?"
"I can't tell you, but it means that I'm going to be pretty busy," Peter walked away and stood with his back to her, "I need to be alone for a while."
"You what?"
"I need you," Peter replied and Gwen smiled, "but only as a friend."
"That's fine with me Peter," Gwen lied, "I'll wait as long as you need."
"Thank you," Peter said, "I have to go, I've got some things to do."
"Bye Peter," Gwen said as he walked out of her house, "goodbye," she repeated and her fake smile faded as she leant against the back of her door and slid down to a seated position on the floor. She wanted to cry, but felt too guilty, how could she be upset that Peter needed space after his uncle was murdered.
Night fell over the city and the vibrant nightlife was being born. However two killers stepped out that night too, one a young man eager to fulfil a promise to his unintended victim. The amazing Spider-Man was swinging from building to building through the concrete jungle leaving a trail of sticky white vines, he landed on a familiar ledge next to a familiar gargoyle and patted it on the head almost playfully.
"Hi Joe," he whispered to the silent stone monstrosity, "nice night, seen any people need saving tonight?"
The silence said it all.
Directly down in the street below a man was staggering along the street carrying a woman on his back, the woman was very scantily clad and looked a little like a cheap prostitute. Her eyes were closed and her mouth laid open as though she had passed out and the man was wearing biker's leathers and he stank of alcohol, he dropped her on the steps of the church and bent over her. Across the street a tramp was laid down in a doorway and his eyes were drawn to slits as he watched on the verge of consciousness, a glint of moonlight reflecting off metal shone into his eyes. The tiny sliver of steel span around in the man's hand, suddenly all appearance of drunkenness in the man disappeared and it was replaced by a hunched-over position above the woman's body. She was dead and had been for nearly an hour, the man ripped off the clothing on her upper body and made several swift and methodical cuts. He then made two long painstaking strokes before standing up and wiping her blood from his hands, walking towards the large arched doors of the church he pulled out a large knife, one that had to be flicked from a cover. He then carved three words into the old oak door.
"Jack was here."