Dear Readers, this chapter tries to tie up some loose ends from the first
seven but probably doesn't. I personally love the ending for this chapter
and the previous one but any criticism would be great. This is the last
chapter of this story arc so you may have to wait a couple days to get the
next arc to get started, I need to plan it really well as I didn't plan the
first arc much at all. I'm really enjoying writing this and I hope you're
all enjoying reading it, as ever I appreciate your emails and reviews.
Anyone is welcome to send me ideas or whatever and if you really like the
story I'll email it to you as soon as I post to ff.net. A couple of people
have already asked for this and I'm setting up a mailing list so just ask
and I'll do! You will get the latest chapter about 24 hours before ff.net
does, direct to your inbox. I have lots of free time so have no worries,
True Believer.
Chapter Eight: An Opening Epilogue
The echo of the shot rang out, a shivering wave of sound bouncing from wall to wall like some insane kangaroo. Deathly silence filled the alley, broken only by the unmistakable sound of a dead body slumping to the ground. The gun clattered along the pavement and skidded to a halt by the Spider-Man's feet.
"Oh," was all Spider-Man could say. The Ripper's body lay sprawled halfway out of the storm cellar, his outstretched gloved hands seemingly reaching for the Spider-Man. Spider-Man stood motionless in the alley just staring at the body of Jack the Ripper, two killers, two possible paths, one a life of guilt and the other death. The Spider-Man looked at the gun at his feet and wondered, would everyone be better off if he'd taken Jack's route.
"Probably," Spider-Man said and he picked up the gun. He pointed the weapon's deadly barrel at his own temple, his hands shivering and his legs shaking. It began to rain, hard, out of nowhere the sky opened and water emptied from the clouds. It soaked through his costume and ran over the Spider-Man from head to toe in a wave of water, suddenly a strange feeling washed over him. It was as though a wave of absolution had flowed over him, cleansing him of his crimes, bonding him to his mission. He realised he still had the gun pointed to his temple and lowered it to rest at his side, the gun felt so light in his hands. It astonished him that something so light could destroy so much.
Captain Stacy led one of the search teams around the corner of the alley to see the body of Jack the Ripper and the Spider-Man stood over the body holding a gun to his temple, he waved out his arm to the rest of his team and crept forward pointing his service pistol at the ground. Suddenly it began to rain and the Spider-Man lowered the gun to his side, Stacy paid no attention to the rain and stepped forward and slowly raised his gun. The Spider-Man turned and looked straight at Stacy and spoke, "He shot himself."
"Am I supposed to believe that?"
"No, forensics will show the angle of the weapon," Spider-Man said turning to be face to face with Stacy.
"I still can't let you go until we receive that evidence," Stacy took one hand off his gun to retrieve his handcuffs.
"Yesterday I might have gone with you," Spider-Man took another step forward and was now an arm's length from Stacy, "but today, you'd never be able to hold me anyway."
"You're probably right," Stacy replied, "but I'd kick myself every day for the rest of my life if I didn't try."
"Good night George," the Spider-Man said before leaping extremely high in the darkness.
"Good night Spider-Man," Stacy said as he lowered his gun. He walked over to where the Spider-Man had stood and picked up the gun he had held, Stacy opened the pistol to find it was empty. Jack had kept only one bullet, meant only for him. The Spider-Man was nowhere in sight and his team crept up close to the Captain.
"What happened here sir?"
"I don't really know," Stacy put his gun back in its holster, "but I have my suspicions. Get forensics here pronto, and call me a press conference."
Captain Stacy stood on a blue police podium in the hallway of the police station with thirty or so reporters with notebooks and cameramen all clamouring for his attention, he waved both his arms as a signal for quiet then began his press conference.
"Last night at around twelve pm the killer known as Jack the Ripper shot himself in the alleyway behind the Metropolitan Bank of New York," Captain Stacy held up an evidence bag containing Jack's revolver, "this was the weapon he used, however there is no evidence that it was used in any killings as it had only been fired once and the killer only seemed to have one bullet. Any other questions?"
"Ben Urich Daily Bugle," said the goateed reporter Stacy picked from the crowd, "sources say that the vigilante known as Spider-Man may be involved, how do you respond to this?"
"I hoped this wouldn't come up," Stacy replied, "Spider-Man was seen at the place where the body was dropped and at the scene of the killer's suicide, we do not as of yet know the exact details of his involvement but he should be aware he is wanted for questioning."
"That will be all ladies and gentlemen, Captain Stacy has a family to go home to," the district attorney said, stepping between the Captain and the podium obviously annoyed at the Captain's answer.
Peter sat on his bed with his costume on but his mask held in his hand, he'd been thinking about what he was doing with his life, his mission, and whether it was possible. Was last night an omen, he felt as though the rain was a sign, as if by killing himself Jack had started something. He needed to go back to that alley, something in that cellar called to him.
"I'm going to church Peter," his aunt called out, blissfully unaware of her nephew's nocturnal activities.
"Bye aunt May," Peter called, "be careful," he added. His aunt was going to the very church where Jack had left the last body and something just wasn't right about it all. But before he could do any investigating he had to get some sleep, he took off his costume and rolled it into a ball and put it under his bed then laid back under the covers. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow he fell asleep, a peaceful dreamless sleep.
Night fell and after eating dinner with aunt May Peter snuck out of the house via the window, the LCD alarm clock by his bedside was already flashing eleven and Peter had to get some sleep tonight. He'd hardly slept since uncle Ben and he was starting to feel it, he'd also have to carefully avoid the police.
Spider-Man crawled along the wall above the storm cellar down towards the two open doors, making sure no policemen where watching Spider-Man flung himself off the wall landing safely and silently in the cellar. He stood still in amazement, he'd seen these sort of places in movies but never thought somebody would be depraved enough to do it. There was arcane scripture written all over the walls and ceiling, all of it blood. The floor was boarded and his spider-sense was screaming at him to remove the floorboards, he used his strength to smash his way in and then began to pull up the boards. It revealed a pentagram, a five-pointed star in what appeared to be salt. The floorboards appeared to be hiding a secret compartment, the real floor was almost six inches below the boards and there were several black jars arranged around the circle. Spider-Man picked up one of the jars and opened it, it was too dark to see inside so he sniffed closely, then he retched and threw the jar down. He had smelled blood and on instinct thrown it down, but he'd obviously made a mistake as the blood spilt from the jar onto the pentagram and the white salt of the star turned red. Light began to shine forth from the shape and Spider-Man backed up to the wall as a huge pillar of flame shot up from the ground, through the building above and up so high it could be seen for miles around.
Captain Stacy stepped out of his car outside the Metropolitan Bank of New York on his way to inspect the crime scene when a pillar of flame shot out through the building and showered debris all over the street. Stacy ducked and ran towards the cellar pulling his gun free from its holster. He rushed down the steps and saw Spider-Man backed against the wall, the pillar of flame erupting in the middle of the floor out of a star of red powder. Suddenly the pillar of fire shrank into the star and the powder itself began to burn.
"What's going on here?" Stacy shouted at Spider-Man.
"I don't know," Spider-Man replied, "why are you asking me?"
"This seems more your territory than mine," Stacy replied, he pointed his gun at Spider-Man and released the safety catch.
Suddenly a flash of light filled the room and a breeze came from out of nowhere, When Captain Stacy opened his eyes he and Spider-Man where no longer alone, a man almost seven feet tall with dark blonde hair and black eyes stood staring at them.
"Who the hell are you?" Stacy shouted, pointing his gun at him.
"I am," the man replied, "The Bringer."
Chapter Eight: An Opening Epilogue
The echo of the shot rang out, a shivering wave of sound bouncing from wall to wall like some insane kangaroo. Deathly silence filled the alley, broken only by the unmistakable sound of a dead body slumping to the ground. The gun clattered along the pavement and skidded to a halt by the Spider-Man's feet.
"Oh," was all Spider-Man could say. The Ripper's body lay sprawled halfway out of the storm cellar, his outstretched gloved hands seemingly reaching for the Spider-Man. Spider-Man stood motionless in the alley just staring at the body of Jack the Ripper, two killers, two possible paths, one a life of guilt and the other death. The Spider-Man looked at the gun at his feet and wondered, would everyone be better off if he'd taken Jack's route.
"Probably," Spider-Man said and he picked up the gun. He pointed the weapon's deadly barrel at his own temple, his hands shivering and his legs shaking. It began to rain, hard, out of nowhere the sky opened and water emptied from the clouds. It soaked through his costume and ran over the Spider-Man from head to toe in a wave of water, suddenly a strange feeling washed over him. It was as though a wave of absolution had flowed over him, cleansing him of his crimes, bonding him to his mission. He realised he still had the gun pointed to his temple and lowered it to rest at his side, the gun felt so light in his hands. It astonished him that something so light could destroy so much.
Captain Stacy led one of the search teams around the corner of the alley to see the body of Jack the Ripper and the Spider-Man stood over the body holding a gun to his temple, he waved out his arm to the rest of his team and crept forward pointing his service pistol at the ground. Suddenly it began to rain and the Spider-Man lowered the gun to his side, Stacy paid no attention to the rain and stepped forward and slowly raised his gun. The Spider-Man turned and looked straight at Stacy and spoke, "He shot himself."
"Am I supposed to believe that?"
"No, forensics will show the angle of the weapon," Spider-Man said turning to be face to face with Stacy.
"I still can't let you go until we receive that evidence," Stacy took one hand off his gun to retrieve his handcuffs.
"Yesterday I might have gone with you," Spider-Man took another step forward and was now an arm's length from Stacy, "but today, you'd never be able to hold me anyway."
"You're probably right," Stacy replied, "but I'd kick myself every day for the rest of my life if I didn't try."
"Good night George," the Spider-Man said before leaping extremely high in the darkness.
"Good night Spider-Man," Stacy said as he lowered his gun. He walked over to where the Spider-Man had stood and picked up the gun he had held, Stacy opened the pistol to find it was empty. Jack had kept only one bullet, meant only for him. The Spider-Man was nowhere in sight and his team crept up close to the Captain.
"What happened here sir?"
"I don't really know," Stacy put his gun back in its holster, "but I have my suspicions. Get forensics here pronto, and call me a press conference."
Captain Stacy stood on a blue police podium in the hallway of the police station with thirty or so reporters with notebooks and cameramen all clamouring for his attention, he waved both his arms as a signal for quiet then began his press conference.
"Last night at around twelve pm the killer known as Jack the Ripper shot himself in the alleyway behind the Metropolitan Bank of New York," Captain Stacy held up an evidence bag containing Jack's revolver, "this was the weapon he used, however there is no evidence that it was used in any killings as it had only been fired once and the killer only seemed to have one bullet. Any other questions?"
"Ben Urich Daily Bugle," said the goateed reporter Stacy picked from the crowd, "sources say that the vigilante known as Spider-Man may be involved, how do you respond to this?"
"I hoped this wouldn't come up," Stacy replied, "Spider-Man was seen at the place where the body was dropped and at the scene of the killer's suicide, we do not as of yet know the exact details of his involvement but he should be aware he is wanted for questioning."
"That will be all ladies and gentlemen, Captain Stacy has a family to go home to," the district attorney said, stepping between the Captain and the podium obviously annoyed at the Captain's answer.
Peter sat on his bed with his costume on but his mask held in his hand, he'd been thinking about what he was doing with his life, his mission, and whether it was possible. Was last night an omen, he felt as though the rain was a sign, as if by killing himself Jack had started something. He needed to go back to that alley, something in that cellar called to him.
"I'm going to church Peter," his aunt called out, blissfully unaware of her nephew's nocturnal activities.
"Bye aunt May," Peter called, "be careful," he added. His aunt was going to the very church where Jack had left the last body and something just wasn't right about it all. But before he could do any investigating he had to get some sleep, he took off his costume and rolled it into a ball and put it under his bed then laid back under the covers. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow he fell asleep, a peaceful dreamless sleep.
Night fell and after eating dinner with aunt May Peter snuck out of the house via the window, the LCD alarm clock by his bedside was already flashing eleven and Peter had to get some sleep tonight. He'd hardly slept since uncle Ben and he was starting to feel it, he'd also have to carefully avoid the police.
Spider-Man crawled along the wall above the storm cellar down towards the two open doors, making sure no policemen where watching Spider-Man flung himself off the wall landing safely and silently in the cellar. He stood still in amazement, he'd seen these sort of places in movies but never thought somebody would be depraved enough to do it. There was arcane scripture written all over the walls and ceiling, all of it blood. The floor was boarded and his spider-sense was screaming at him to remove the floorboards, he used his strength to smash his way in and then began to pull up the boards. It revealed a pentagram, a five-pointed star in what appeared to be salt. The floorboards appeared to be hiding a secret compartment, the real floor was almost six inches below the boards and there were several black jars arranged around the circle. Spider-Man picked up one of the jars and opened it, it was too dark to see inside so he sniffed closely, then he retched and threw the jar down. He had smelled blood and on instinct thrown it down, but he'd obviously made a mistake as the blood spilt from the jar onto the pentagram and the white salt of the star turned red. Light began to shine forth from the shape and Spider-Man backed up to the wall as a huge pillar of flame shot up from the ground, through the building above and up so high it could be seen for miles around.
Captain Stacy stepped out of his car outside the Metropolitan Bank of New York on his way to inspect the crime scene when a pillar of flame shot out through the building and showered debris all over the street. Stacy ducked and ran towards the cellar pulling his gun free from its holster. He rushed down the steps and saw Spider-Man backed against the wall, the pillar of flame erupting in the middle of the floor out of a star of red powder. Suddenly the pillar of fire shrank into the star and the powder itself began to burn.
"What's going on here?" Stacy shouted at Spider-Man.
"I don't know," Spider-Man replied, "why are you asking me?"
"This seems more your territory than mine," Stacy replied, he pointed his gun at Spider-Man and released the safety catch.
Suddenly a flash of light filled the room and a breeze came from out of nowhere, When Captain Stacy opened his eyes he and Spider-Man where no longer alone, a man almost seven feet tall with dark blonde hair and black eyes stood staring at them.
"Who the hell are you?" Stacy shouted, pointing his gun at him.
"I am," the man replied, "The Bringer."