A/N: None
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"That was a rather enjoyable exercise."
"For you, perhaps. I won't do it again."
"It won't be needed anyway, I think. The message is finally getting across to him. He is a mutant. He should take such matters personally. It affects all of us, as a whole... not just as individuals."
"No need to spout your platitudes at me. I already know them."
"Very well. Are you enjoying the show as I am?"
"I'll enjoy it more when the device is ready and they become even more fearful."
"Fear is powerful, yes. And then we will be there to help them dispel their fears and build them into the nation they said they'd created in the first place."
***
Peter Parker yawned and groaned as he rolled out of his bed at 8:21 A.M. the next morning. For a few moments, his mind seemed blissfully quiet and clear.
And then the events of last night, combined with the bruises, hit him like a train.
He groaned again and tried to pick himself up off the floor.
How could Felicia have placed so much trust in Lehnsherr in such a short period of time? Or did he approach her before? She never mentioned anything about it before, though... and considering how much she and I usually communicate, she would have, just to let me know. Which means he did it recently.
Then again, he thought, I almost got sucked into his charm, too. At least I made sure of who I was dealing with... but surely I could expect the same from her, couldn't I? Especially after all that's happened to her.
So it comes back to square one... why would she put so much faith into a man she really wouldn't know that well?
He dragged himself off the floor and shuffled across the carpet on his knees, searching for the remote control. I really should be a better housekeeper... MJ would never have let that thing stray far. He did find it within a couple of minutes, however... longer than it would have taken him to get to his feet and change the channel manually to the station he wanted. Nevertheless, it was with the remote that he activated the television and set the station: a local news broadcast. He turned the volume up loud and headed into the bathroom, where he performed his usual showering routine.
As the hot water pelted him, blasting away the bruises and kinks, his ear caught the newscaster say "Spider-Man". He turned off the faucet and stepped out of the bathtub, making sure to wrap a towel around his waist as he did so. He listened carefully.
"...authorities still have no clue as to the motive for these actions, but Chief Bombay says that a warrant has been issued for Spider-Man's apprehension."
A voiceover could be heard; it was the deep bass of a male. "'It's plain and simple... eyewitnesses, as well as security cameras, say he was taking items that clearly did not belong to him, and we're looking to return them to their proper owners. We're keeping a close eye on the city until such time that we may find him and take him in for questioning.'"
Peter frowned. What did I do this time? But the report was already overwith.
With a panging sense of unease, he stepped into the living room and changed the channel to another one of his preferred newscasts. This time it was a male reporter. "--drastic turn of events took place last night when Spider-Man apparently committed a string of robberies. Jewelry stores across Manhattan found themselves missing a collective amount of over two million dollars. Chief of Police Samuel Bombay issued a statement this morning, declaring that a warrant has been issued to take Spider-Man in, should he appear again."
The same shot of Bombay appeared as it had with the last report, and Peter almost felt sick to his stomach. An impostor! Lowest of the low... this sounds like a familiar song... who could it be this time? Mysterio? Some shapeshifter?
Shapeshifter... Peter's eyes hardened. I said "no" to Lehnsherr's offer... could he have sent some shapeshifting mutant to discredit me? And if he did, why?
There's a wide range of possibilities, he realized. Best I not jump to conclusions... but whoever did it has a grudge against me. I'm gonna have to take care of it pretty quickly.
He sighed as he went back into the bathroom and stepped into the bathtub. I can't do it now, though. If cops are looking for me, daytime is totally out. Besides, I've got a paycheck to think about. And a neck, at the same time.
***
Peter walked into the Bugle feeling somewhat like a rooster in a henhouse. If only all these people knew that an alleged criminal walked in their midst, eh? he thought morbidly. Wonder what Jonah will have to say about all this. Probably mad that I didn't catch Spider-Man in the act.
He tentatively moved across the floor, trying to slip past unnoticed and submit the pictures he'd gotten of himself with the new slave control on his camera. Unfortunately, Kate wasn't in this time around... only that snot-nosed brat of an intern, Carson Roberts. Peter groaned. Maybe it'd be better if I just turn myself in now... Jonah will be in here in three seconds...
He grit his teeth and forced himself to walk into the office Carson was occupying. The young man, certainly no more than Peter's age, sporting a tie and bleached, vaguely spiky hair grinned a smile that had no doubt wiled the girls at the high school he must have just graduated from. "Well, hello there, Mr. Parker."
Peter grunted. "You know you're free to call me Peter. 'Mr. Parker' makes me feel old."
Carson raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I was under the impression that 'Mr.' was a sign of respect."
"True. But I might feel more respected, and be more willing to talk to you, if we were to know each other on a mutual first-name basis. Carson."
Carson smiled, and there was a hint of a grimace in it. "Very well, then, Peter. What have you got for our esteemed paper today?"
Peter handed Carson the envelope of pictures with a sigh. Carson caught the sigh. "Oh, come now... we don't like negative attitudes around here! Although negatives are certainly a plus," he added, perusing the envelope's contents. He frowned after a few moments. "None of the real grit on Spider-Man? That's a first for you, I think."
"What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" Peter asked, crossing his arms. His muscles pulsed underneath his sleeves.
"I guess you didn't see the news this morning, then." Carson chuckled.
"I did, as a matter of fact."
"And you've got no pics of it?"
"You wanted the real grit, that's about as real as I can make it. I've got nothing on the robberies they're saying he committed."
Carson snapped his fingers rapidly as he leaned back in his chair. "Come on, Peter... they're saying it for a reason. He was caught in the act by security cameras all over Manhattan. He was really quite sloppy with his work, as is usually the case... hence all the super villains running around, causing havoc. He's no better."
What is this? "Bash The Spider" day? Or maybe it's "Mini-Me" day and Carson's paired with Jonah... Peter shook his head. "I'm not going to say anything as far as that goes. You've got the pics. Take 'em or leave 'em, I don't really care. It's not my job to tell, only to show." People like you are only good for raising hot air balloons.
Carson nodded. "All right, all right, no need to get upset. I'll take 'em. These are actually very good quality. New lens?"
"Something like that." Be careful in your removal of your lips from my rear end.
"Hnh. All right, then. Gimme a minute, I'll put some food in your fridge." Carson pulled out a voucher slip and filled it out. Peter spied it, noticing that it was only a little more than half of what Kate had given him last time. In truth, it was a decent amount... but Peter was nonetheless somewhat disappointed to see it wasn't more.
The trials of being a freelancer...
As he exited the office, he heard a bit of commotion around one of the nearby TV sets. He also heard a bit of roaring from Jonah's office, but that was about par for the man.
"Turn it up! Turn it up!" one journalist was crying out.
"All right, dammit, just gimme a sec," complained the one controlling the set. The volume bar was creeping to the right across the bottom of the screen, and it seemed to be a slow trek, indeed.
Peter approached the set as the volume got to a level he could actually hear.
"--have just been informed of a fire at the warehouse complex in the downtown industrial districts, just off 113th Street and 24th Avenue... there appears to be an arsonist inside the complex as we speak, Chuck... one of the foremen has told me that someone is taking a pair of flamethrowers to the most recent shipments of Carbonex foods and the effect has spread to the entire warehouse. There's a tower of smoke that can be seen from across half the city..."
Peter's eyes grew wide as he watched a warehouse almost totally consumed in flame blazing across the screen.
"Chuck, it seems the wind is working against the firefighters' attempts, plus this supposed arsonist. I'm told that there are still men trapped within, but it's unclear if they even have a chance of surviving in there. The odds aren't good. Meanwhile, the fire seems to be spreading to another--"
The on-site newscaster was interrupted by an explosion that blew away a chunk of the warehouse to the northeast of the one currently in flames. The camera view was totally knocked off as the cameraman and the reporter ducked pieces of flying debris.
Carson stepped up behind Peter. "It seems to me that we'll need some good pictures of that. A hundred fifty extra says you can make it down there and give me some great shots."
Peter turned on one heel and stared Carson down for a moment.
He stormed off.
***
He stood atop the Bugle for a few moments, contemplating what he should do. Going down to the dock as Peter Parker would ensure him a little more food, a couple more shirts, and a fixed air conditioner. Yet it would likely sacrifice the lives of any men still trapped within the warehouse, and allow the arsonist to continue whatever bizarre rampage he or she was on.
Going there as Spider-Man would give those men and the warehouse complex the chance they needed. Yet it would likely attract the attention of the police, who would no doubt try to track him down. He would run the risk of being caught.
But to save lives, there really was no choice.
***
A blur of red and blue swept above the streets of Manhattan, moving straight toward the warehouse district.
***
Erik Lehnsherr smiled. "And so it begins."
***
The first thing I need to do, Spider-Man thought, as he swung ever closer to his target, is figure out how I'm going to get inside. Maybe find a piece of wood or something and bash my way inside. Can't go in from the top... there ought to be at least three entrances on every side; surely I can find one I can just smash through and get inside fast enough not to be flash-fried...
He approached the warehouse carefully. There were several emergency vehicles that seemed to surround it on three sides, and more fire engines on the northeast side of the next warehouse, where the fire was spreading to.
They left the northeast side of the burning warehouse wide open...
Spider-Man carefully snuck around to the northeastern side. In the center of that wall, there appeared to be an entrance which did not exactly have a fire roaring both inside and outside it. He frowned. An open invitation, pretty much. Why did the firefighters not even bother to look here?
And what's more, if it's an invitation, why am I accepting it?
He took a running leap through the flames that stood at the mouth of the doorway.
The innards of the warehouse were nothing but chaos. Everything seemed to be consumed in fire, blazing orange light and white heat searing him on every level.
He quickly glanced around, looking for any signs that there might be men still trapped here. However, all appearances indicated that there was no one to be found.
An arsonist with a flamethrower did all this? Maybe... Spider-Man was feeling decidedly skeptical. For a fire as large scale as this appeared to be, it would have had to have a considerable amount of fuel. And then there was the little matter of the media, which tended to show up on the scene within only a few minutes of the initial spark. For this much devastation to be wrought in so little a time...
"Well, well, well."
Spider-Man's head snapped up at the high-pitched male voice, piercing through the crackling fire.
The man was about Spider-Man's height, and he was even more brightly garbed. He wore a yellow and orange suit, presumably flame retardant, and a thin red mask stretched across his eyes. Thick orange lenses bugged out from the mask, dense enough that his eye color was impossible to determine. He had a mop of light blond hair and a very angular face, from what Spider-Man could see under the mask. He had a medium build, and Spider-Man had no trouble imagining that this pyromaniac probably couldn't stand up to him in down-to-earth fisticuffs.
However, the man didn't seem like to do that. His hefty, back-mounted load was a double tank containing compressed flamethrower fuel, and a spigot with a hose was attached to the tops of each of his wrists.
"And whom do I have the distinct dishonor of addressing?" Spider-Man asked, taking a defensive pose and slowly circling to his left.
"Pyro's the name, and playing with fire is my game," answered the man, following Spider-Man's movements closely.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with matches?"
"Matches? Every day. But she never said anything about flamethrowers!" Pyro cackled, as if he thought his joke was the funniest thing in the world. He stared at Spider-Man for a moment, and his amusement disappeared. "You're not laughing."
"I'm just wondering why you saw fit to burn the house down."
The smile returned. "The humans were being bad boys again."
Spider-Man frowned. "The humans? You're a mutant?"
"Very good! Get two in a row and you'll win a Clark bar!"
"Do you work for Lehnsherr?"
"Damn. I don't have any Clark bars with me." Pyro made a big show of checking nonexistent pockets all over his costume. He looked back up at Spider-Man and shrugged. "Oh, well. I guess that means I'll have to kill the contestant and save myself the trouble."
He aimed one of his flamethrowers at Spider-Man and fired.
Spider-Man quickly launched high into the air and affixed himself to the ceiling. He found that to be a mistake, however, since the ceiling -- as with the rest of the supports in the building -- was comprised of metal. He cried out and fell to the floor.
Pyro tsked and shook his head as he approached the injured and winded Spider-Man. "Stupid little spider. I suppose you conveniently forgot that metal conducts heat, hmm?"
Spider-Man quickly scrambled to his feet and leaped away from Pyro as the fiery antagonist unleashed another pair of liquid fire streams. The webslinger jumped high over the self-proclaimed mutant and landed on the other side.
Spider-Man quickly fired both web-shooters at Pyro. Both struck the center of his back, causing him to stumble forward slightly. Spider-Man wrapped the weblines around his wrists and yanked back as hard as he could.
Pyro went sailing towards him. Spider-Man ducked and watched at the crazed arsonist crashed into a collection of barrels.
The blond man didn't even seem so much as winded as he got to his feet. Spider-Man's trusty spider-sense buzzed hard, and he leapt high into the air. A stream of fire scorched the space he'd just vacated.
"And along came a spider!" Pyro giggled gleefully, spraying flames at Spider-Man.
Spider-Man attempted to maneuver, looking to distract Pyro from his intended target. He swung quickly around the entire warehouse, using anything and everything for cover and support. He seemed to swing circles around Pyro.
He then took the opportunity to glance back at the blond man.
The pyromaniac was now wrapped in a thick column of fire.
Spider-Man frowned and looked harder. What's going on?
His spider-sense jerked him hard to the left, and he moved just in time to avoid a wide, deadly stream of flame.
Spider-Man fired a line to the center of the warehouse ceiling and swung to the other side. Before Pyro had a chance to track him, he fired a pair of weblines at the arsonist.
The flame streams suddenly seemed to make an utterly impossible turn in midair and redirect themselves toward the lines of webbing. The web was incinerated before it even had a chance of attaching to him.
Spider-Man cut off the lines and went back to his strategy of evasion, baffled. How could the flames have done that? They shouldn't have been able to...
Unless...
At the apex of his next swing, he fired off a web bolt at the brightly garbed blond, but the flame streams he was firing off suddenly made another impossible turn and burned the bolt down to ashes before it got anywhere near its target.
That's his ability! Now... what do I do about it?
"You're only delaying the inevitable, Spider-Man!" Pyro shouted, as the flames continued to roar around them. "You've got two options... either die by my hand or join Magneto's Brotherhood!"
"And here I thought this was a free country," Spider-Man retorted, as he narrowly dodged a stream of flame. "Why the sudden urgency to get me in with the crowd?"
"You're a mutant!" Pyro responded. "We shouldn't be fighting each other! It degrades us to what those useless humans have become!"
"Hey, pal, I wasn't the one who decided that the humans were useless!" Spider-Man landed, only to backflip across the floor as he avoided a rapidly moving stream.
"You don't get it! They're as useless as flies!"
"Flies feed spiders feed birds feed us! Or do you not pay attention to the food chain?"
"No point when I'm at the top!"
"And you wouldn't be at the top without the bottom!"
Pyro shouted incoherently and increased the width and breadth of the streams, now turning them into a huge wall of fire. "The itsy bitsy spider..."
In his concentration, he had lost track of Spider-Man. His head snapped around and around, searching for the webslinger.
"Down came the rain!"
Pyro looked upward just in time to see Spider-Man descending on him. More specifically, Spider-Man's fist descending on his nose.
Pyro hit the floor and cried out, releasing his concentration on the fire wall he'd created. Spider-Man didn't waste time, spraying Pyro's mask with webbing and then using the webbing to seal the mask to his face.
Pyro stuck out his flamethrowers and blindly fired. Spider-Man dodged them easily, then aprayed webbing at Pyro's arms and caught the hoses for his flamethrowers. He yanked back as hard as he could, and in the process, he jarred the hoses enough that Pyro's supply was cut off.
Spider-Man leaped straight at Pyro, then, and gave him a knee to the gut. Pyro doubled over, gasping for breath, and nearly hit the ground. Spider-Man held him up by the front of his form-fitting costume.
"Why torch the warehouse?" he hissed.
"Because... the food is... poison for mutants," Pyro gasped. "I was... doing us all... a favor!"
"Poison?"
"Yes! It attacks... mutants' immune systems... mutants are dying of AIDS-like symptoms!" Pyro groaned at the wall crawler. "And now you're helping the humans destroy us. I hope you're happy."
Spider-Man glared for a moment, then clasped his hands together, brought them up over his head, and then clubbed the base of Pyro's neck.
Pyro went down easily.
Spider-Man picked Pyro up, threw him over his shoulder, and carried him out of the warehouse and to safety. There, he tightly webbed up the arsonist and removed his flamethrowers.
I'd best get out of here before the cops find me and decide it's Thanksgiving.
He beat a hasty retreat.
***
Peter Parker arrived on the scene of the fire as the firefighters began to get an advantage over it. He hurriedly started snapping pictures, his long lens capturing the intensity of the blaze the FNY still had to take down if they hoped to save the warehouse.
He coughed several times. Smoke inhalation... best not to web-swing strenuously in a burning warehouse. He squinted his eyes as he stared into the burning wreckage. Part of the building was starting to collapse, and he was grateful that there was no one still inside.
Let's hope the blue boys find Spidey's Christmas present soon, though... the webbing dissolves in an hour... and hey, I can get an even better paycheck if they bring him out and I snapshot him. I'll catch all sorts of hell for not getting Spider-Man, but on the other hand, Carson didn't ask me to snapshot him...
Peter smiled inwardly. This might turn out to be a good day, after all.
But... Pyro still wanted me to join the Brotherhood, even as we were fighting each other. How very like brothers, one wanting another to be part of the family so much that he'll fight in order to see that it happens. Maybe weird by my standards, but then again, my circumstances weren't quite normal...
Lehnsherr would still want me, even after beating his own "son" down? Doubtful.
Now I won't have to put up with any more babbling about joining. It's all overwith.
I hope.
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