New Branches

(Continued)

(Special thanks to SperryDee, who finally got me to update! And thanks to everyone who's been waiting so patiently for a new chapter. I promise the next one won't be so long in coming!)

4. Shocks and Revelations

Pietro was long gone. He stayed out of the house as much as possible these days. Mostly because of his sister Wanda . . .

What had possessed her to come home so suddenly? Was she trying to torture him? If she hated him so much, why couldn't she stay where she'd been all these years? It was like she was trying to punish him or something.

But he hadn't even done anything!

He realized he was near Rogue's house. Maybe he should drop in to see her.
Then he remembered that they were all over at the Institute for some newspaper article or something . . .

So he went there instead.

Inside the institute, the interview was wrapping up. Peter Parker thanked everyone for their time.
"You sure I can't get a picture of the babies?"

"Oh, all right, one picture," Logan grumbled. He was as proud of his kids as any other father, but he didn't want them in danger because of the article. "Just be careful how you word the caption."

"Okay."

Logan held the babies, one in each arm, and said, "OK, boys, look at the camera."
John and Jared held up their toys.

"I can't see their faces," Peter complained. "The toys are in the way."

Finally, however, he got off the perfect shot.

With that, Peter accompanied Jean to the front gate, where he got off a few last shots of the building. Too bad Mary Jane wasn't here.

Oh well, maybe he could show her some of the pictures, once he got them developed.

At least Dr. Octopus wasn't around to wreak havoc, and Norman Osborne was no longer around, so today would be quiet on the super-villain front . . .

. . . or so he thought.

On a rooftop not far away, the Shocker was ready to bust open the vaults of Bayville's main bank.

See, he was smart! All those other super-villains all stayed in New York and got their butts whipped, but out here in the 'burbs, there were no superheroes to do the butt-whipping . . . he had it made! Not like that blockhead Doc Ock or Norman Osborne--the big loser. No annoying Spider-Man to get in his way here.

"Time to go to work," he said to himself, and dashed over to the bank's front doors.

This was beyond easy. In fact . . . it was so simple it was almost boring.

Someone was about to make his life a little more interesting.
And it wasn't the X-Men. Or Spider-Man.

It was Connie Alvers' getaway driver-slash-husband . . . who wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.

But he knew illegal activity when he saw it . . . and he wondered if he might get in on the action.

So he stopped the car and, pulling on a ski mask, joined the guy on the roof.

The Shocker wasn't expecting this new guy in greasy denim and Doc Martens. "Hey, I work alone, pal!"

"Two heads are better than one," his unwanted would-be partner replied.

"Not if one of 'em belongs to a complete moron."

"Hey, that's okay. I don't mind working with ya."

That infuriated Shocker. "Get out of here before I--"

"Chill, man, it was a joke."

"This is why I work alone!"

Back at the Institute, Peter felt his Spider-Sense going crazy . . . and when it was acting up like this, something big had to be going down.

Checking to see if anyone was watching him, Peter slipped into an alley and pulled on his suit. He fired off a thread from one of his web shooters, and swung into action.

He followed Shocker into the bank . . . and ran right into his accomplice.

"What the--?!!" they both said simultaneously.

The Shocker was not pleased to see his arch nemesis here, where he wasn't supposed to be.

"You little....!"

"Okaaay, just put the money down, and no one gets hurt." Especially me!

"Dream on, punk." With that, Shocker made straight for Peter's chest with a particularly high-voltage burst of electricity. Peter barely managed to leap out of the way of the blast.

"Stand still, you stupid insect!"
"You keep him busy," Tony called out. "I'll grab the money!"

"Don't think so!" Spidey's web shooters shot out a line which snagged the would-be crook and left him stuck to the wall.

"As for you . . ." He turned to the Shocker. "There's a nice cell waiting for you back at Rikers."

There was a crowd starting to gather outside the bank . . . and when Spidey noticed them, he sighed. He hated this whole fame thing.

Hated it.

"Move along, folks, nothing to see here."

With that, Spidey left the crowd behind and headed back to the Institute, getting there just in time to witness an outdoor training session . . . that was going very, very badly.

"Where'd you go?" Scott asked Peter when he showed up.

"Um . . . I had to get some more film."

"I thought you were done," Jean said.

"I decided to get some file shots," Peter explained. "In case we ever do another story on you. Can I shoot whatever it is you're doing here?"

"We're supposed to be training," Wolverine snarled. "But some people have their minds on other things." He glared at Kurt, who had left the formation and was helping the twins build a sand castle.

"Vas?"

"You gonna join us," Wolverine said to Kurt, "or are you too busy building sand castles?"

"Sorry," Kurt said, and told the twins, "Ve'll have to finish zis later, guys."

Jared and John didn't even notice he was gone; they were too busy digging in the sand with their Bob the Builder shovels. Sand went flying everywhere. Jared took his Bob the Builder doll and dug in the sand with him.

As for Kurt, he rejoined the others, who were giving Peter a demonstration of their various talents. The most impressive was a kid who made a gigantic ice slide, gliding along it like he was on skates.

"What's his name?" Peter asked Jean.

"Bobby Drake," she told him. "He's new, but he's already making himself at home. Want me to introduce you?"

Peter's watch alarm beeped. He'd have to leave now in order to make it to the train station on time.

After a second or two thinking about it, Peter said, "Yeah, but you'll have to be quick. I have a train to catch."
"Oh, it's okay, I'll drive you."

"OK."

After a brief chat with Bobby Drake, Peter followed Jean to her car. But they weren't alone.

Someone was watching them from a distance. "You're all in trouble now . . ." said the visitor, who then took off.

"You don't have a car?" Jean asked Peter.

"Not anymore." Peter sighed. "Long story."

Jean couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about Peter Parker, something that made her wonder if there was more to him than met the eye. She hoped she'd be seeing more of him.

As for Peter, he had a good feeling about all this. If Mr. Jameson liked his latest work, he might be on permanent assignment here.

Connie Alvers, meanwhile, waited impatiently for her attorney to come back with news about the latest developments in her case.

Bobby Donnelly he wasn't, she thought sourly.

"You did what?"

"I cut a deal with the prosecution--" he tried to explain.

"What kind of deal?"

"You cop to accessory charges, and they'll drop--"

"Completely?"
"I didn't finish. They'll drop some of the more serious counts against you."

"Isn't that good news?" Connie asked.
"There's more."

"More?" Connie wasn't sure she was going to like this.

"They caught your ex-husband. He's telling everyone the whole thing was your idea."
"He would, the--" Connie didn't want to swear in front of her defense attorney, though he'd probably heard worse. "Rat!" she finally finished.

Then she asked him, "Heard anything yet about my son?"

"One of our associates is on it. I should be hearing from him sometime today."

"I hope so . . ."

"Hey, Lance, there's a phone call for you!"

Lance warily picked up the phone. "Hello?"

A voice he didn't recognize said, "Lance Alvers?"

"Look, I don't want a credit card, I don't want to buy anything, so don't waste my time."

"I'm not trying to sell you anything. I have some important information for you . . ."

"You serious?"

"Yes, I am."

Lance gripped the phone tighter. Something was definitely unusual about this call.

"It's about your mother--"
"My mother? What about my mother? They finally found her?"

"Yes, Lance . . . or should I say, Dominic?"
Lance's mouth fell open. "How did you know . . .?"

"Your mother gave me most of the relevant details." the attorney explained. "She's alive? Where is she? Where has she been all this time?"

Lance hadn't thought he cared about his birth parents; if you asked, he'd say he was glad to be rid of them. But now . . . he wasn't so sure.