Chapter Seven
Thanks a LOT, TigrePiggi. Hope you're reading this. [grins like a baby]
Peter and MJ were walking to the subway station. They had left Aunt May without a word.
MJ was feeling uneasy at the awkward silence between Peter and herself. What was Peter thinking? She fiddled with the edge of the collar of her trench coat as they paced wordlessly down the busy streets of New York. She didn't know what to say. She was scared to know what he was going to say.
"Peter—"started MJ.
"MJ, I'm sorry." Peter said without looking at her, "It was my fault. I could've stopped the glider from hitting the Gr—Harry's father. If I just stopped it, his father wouldn't be dead, and Harry wouldn't try to avenge Norman. It's just hard for Harry to hurt me...just like that, you know what I mean? No hand to hand combat. He's going for you and Aunt May."
"It's not your fault. Norman tried to kill you in the first place! Harry just didn't believe that you didn't kill his father!"
Peter stopped walking and faced MJ. "That's not the point. It's no use telling him that Norman tried to kill me beforehand. He's in denial! All he wants is revenge on Spider-man! To kill him for what he did to his father!"
"I know, but...oh, just tell me the point then, Peter."
"I told you! He's going for you and Aunt May! He's going to do what his father did to hurt me."
"Throw me off a bridge. Harry would never do that." MJ insisted.
"He's not Harry, he's the Green Goblin." Peter paused and looked into MJ's startling green eyes. "I can't let you and Aunt May get hurt. Not again. I can't take the risk."
Ambulances sped by, sirens sounding loudly. Several blocks away, police cars were going in the same direction as the ambulances.
"Do you mean you want to end our relationship because of these risks? Didn't I tell you that it didn't matter to me, like, half a year ago? I know you care, but what about my feelings, huh, Peter Parker?" MJ yelled over the sirens.
"You'll get killed!! I want this to end because I—"Peter couldn't say it. He hated to argue with MJ.
MJ whispered, "Finish it."
Peter's expression was unfathomable. His lips were numb when he tried to open it and say—say what?
Instead, he turned and ran.
MJ stood there, tears gathering in her eyes, making everything blurry. She was angry at first, and soon the anger turned to sadness. She stayed long enough to see Peter turn into an ally, hastily and innocent-looking, and two seconds later, Spider-man swung out of nowhere.
MJ was crushed. She cried all along the way to her old house and in the subway. She was going to ask her mom for her spare key to her apartment. Peter Parker, you bastard.
Spider-man observed the busy city, while swinging ahead of the police cars.
The citizens looked up in awe, cheering for Spider-man.
Apparently the crime scene was only two streets from Peter's apartment, in a café.
"What's new, chief?" He asked a middle-age, mustached man leaning, casually by a police car, holding up a walkie-talkie.
"Shut it. I'm trying to hear." He said rudely.
A squeaky voice sounded from the walkie-talkie, "Chief! He's got a hostage! The hostage is female, blonde—"
"Tell me about the person who's taking her hostage!" The officer spitted into the device.
There was no sound from the person on the other end, then, "Male, name's Jerry, his girlfriend broke up with him, and he's gone mad! He, uh, says that he wants his girlfriend or he'll kill the hostage. He's got a gun at her neck."
The chief stared at Spider-man, "What are you standing here for? Go!"
"Get his girlfriend, or save the hostage?"
The chief thought for a second, and screamed at Spider-man to save the hostage, as if it was a very obvious thing to do (which it probably was).
Spider-man ran in the café, he saw that a blonde was held up by a teenage male by a gun. Jerry was screaming at the police to keep away, and at the same time, demanding for his girlfriend, which was "Judy". The held captive was trying her best not to scream, instead, she was letting out little desperate moans. Behind them, was a waiter, and Nalla Zil, Peter's colleague at the Daily Bugle. The waiter was whimpering. Nalla looked extremely worried, but she remained unusually calm. They couldn't get out because Jerry wouldn't let them.
"Spider-man!" Nalla happily called out the hero's name.
"Shut up!" the boy was shaking as he pressed the gun harder on the blonde's neck. She winced. Nalla gasped and pressed her lips tightly together. Jerry demanded again, "Get away from me! I want Judy!"
"Look, get over with it, alright?" Spider-man said, "Now give me the gun. I'm sure Judy would hate to see you like this."
"You know nothing about it, Spider-man! Stay away!" He brandished his gun. Well, so much for talking nicely. Spider-man was about to shoot a web to snatch the gun, when he found out he couldn't.
"Not again!" he said quietly as he desperately jerked his hand in web-shooting gesture, when still, nothing came out. It was humiliating. Some officers let out little chuckles.
Jerry sniggered, and loosened his grip on his captive. The blonde took this opportunity to run—but not far enough.
Police rushed forward to take the white-faced Jerry down. He let out a little yelp and pulled the trigger.
"No!" Spider-man managed to shout out.
The gunshot was tremendously loud. It was unexpected, and a lot of people screamed.
Everyone froze.
The blonde collapsed forward, and Nalla wailed. Jerry was shocked, and he dropped the gun with a clank.
Spider-man quickly wrapped him up with web, which he finally got some out the last second. An officer forced Jerry's head down, and pushed him into a police car.
Nalla was kneeling over the blond. There was blood stained all over both of the ladies' clothes.
"Bridget? Please wake up... Please..." she was crying. Spider-man felt ashamed. Paramedics slowly lifted Bridget on a stretcher, backside up. Nalla turned to Spider-man, walked towards him, her high heels clicking behind her.
Nalla had shoulder-length, cropped blond hair, like Bridget, except they were highlighted with vivid amber. Spider-man suspected they were siblings. Now Nalla was right in front of him, her body touching his. Nalla's face was pointed. Everything about her was petite and slender, making her very foxy-looking.
"Well, I guess I was wrong about you, wasn't I?" Nalla said sweetly, stroking his shoulders. Spider-man realized that he merely reached Nalla's grey eyes. He mentally measured that she was almost two inches taller than him, making her almost six feet tall.
"No, no problem." Spider-man muttered nervously. He tried to pull away from Nalla.
Peter's spider-sense only had the chance to tingle for about a quarter of a second, before Nalla's hand flew to his face, and slapped him hard. She was oddly fast; even his spider-sense didn't get enough time to warn him. Twenty thousand cameras flashed immediately.
"You! What the hell is the matter with you! You could've taken the guy down within seconds! And you couldn't shoot webs at the right time. I bet you planned it with that mad man. " Nalla babbled, "Let's see what Jameson can pull from this one. I'm a reporter form the Daily Bugle. Good Luck, freak!" And she stormed away to go to the hospital with Bridget. Police were laughing uncontrollably now.
Spider-man blinked (not that anyone could see), and swung away, absolutely embarrassed that a normal human, a female whom he had tried to rescue, slapped him in public. He silently raged at the police for not charging her for assault. Assaulting the city's superhero! On second thought, that would be more embarrassing.
He went home in Peter Parker's clothes. His phone immediately rang, startling him.
It was Betty Brant, J. Jonah Jameson's secretary.
"Hiya, Peter. This is Betty from the Daily Bugle."
"Mm, hmm."
"Mr. Jameson needs pictures for Sunday's edition front page, just wondering when you'd come and drop them off. Wait, incoming call." There were two beeps, and Betty said again, "When are you coming again?"
"I'll come at—"Peter took a quick look at his alarm clock, "two. I'll be there right after I have lunch, and take care of, um, some business."
"Alright, just don't be late. See you."
"Bye." Betty hung up.
It was 11:23 in the morning. Peter's science classes starts at eleven sharp. He sighed. Was there any point of rushing there now? He hadn't even done his homework yet. He slumped on his bed, tired and frustrated.
There were two quiet knocks on the door.
"Come in." He sat up.
Ursula opened the door timidly.
"Hi, Pete." Ursula looked around, and didn't notice MJ around, "Where's your girlfriend?"
"You mean Mary Jane? I sorta broke up with her." He muttered.
"Oh." Ursula said considerately, but inside she was grinning gleefully. She marked her name, Mary Jane. Mary Jane Watson. "I'm sorry. Why?"
"I don't want to talk about it. Did you have something to give me?"
"No, my dad just wanted me to remind you that you're late for rent this month."
"I don't have it...yet. Tell Mr. Ditkovich I'll have it by the end of this week."
"You don't have to push yourself, Pete. I'll go now." Ursula shyly shut the door behind her. Once she was outside the door, her smile widened.
Peter was exhausted. He wanted to scream in his little bedroom. He almost felt like taking his frustration on all the furniture in the room. He ripped off his shirt and his pants, exposing the tight costume underneath. He unfurled the collar and the sleeves, and slipped on the gloves and mask. Then he grabbed his camera, and checked if his coast was cleared. At least no one was looking his way.
He shot a web at a building, and swung. Spider-man webbed his camera on the side of the building, and posed by swinging in front of it. The camera instantaneously clicked. After this, he took a couple more photos, and changed back into Peter Parker.
Peter slouched to a hotdog vendor in a park, and bought a plain hotdog. He needed to hurry to the Daily Bugle. He promised not to be late, and he was going to keep his promise for once. He was so tired he swore he could've slept right on the sidewalk. He couldn't explain his tiredness. Maybe because he didn't really have anything to do now that MJ wasn't here. Wonder what she's doing, he thought.
Sitting on the other side of the park, was Mary Jane Watson, alone and eating a beef hotdog. She managed to get a spare key from her mother. Before coming here, she went home to take a shower. She needed to get to work right after lunch. She could walk to the theatre from here; it was only a block away. Oh, if only Peter was here, he could hitch me a ride from home, she silently said to herself. But of course he wouldn't. He can't risk letting other people seeing me with him. MJ sighed.
Peter swallowed the last of his hotdog, crossed the street to walk to the Daily Bugle building. He didn't feel like changing into his costume and then swinging to the office, it was too much trouble. Besides, he needed a nice walk to cool him off.
It was already one in the afternoon. Boy, time sure flies. Judging on his speed and distance from the park to the office, he should be there by two, with plenty of time to spare.
He was wrong, when he got there, it was after two. What's happening to me? he thought. His whole body is slowing down, like a dying man.
Betty was sitting at her desk answering phone calls. When she saw Peter standing at the office's doorway, she nodded at him to go ahead, into Mr. Jameson's noisy room.
Peter noticed Nalla was sitting in front of Mr. Jameson's desk. He gingerly moved his palm to his face where she hit him.
"Mr. Jameson, I've got a few photos here." Peter said.
Nalla and Jameson both turned to look at him.
"Well? Put 'em down!" Mr. Jameson ordered through his smoking cigar.
Nalla stood up."Hey, Parker. I'm Nalla. Nalla Zil. Call me Nal." She smiled her foxy smirk and put out a hand.
"Peter, Peter Parker." He returned the smile nervously, as he shook her delicate hand.
"Can I call you Peter?"
"S...sure." he stammered.
"Nice to meet you, Pete. I'm just here to have a little talk with Mr. Jameson about tomorrow's front page."
Peter flinched slightly.
"Ok, so how about Masked Menace Assists in Shooting: Hostage shot? Or Spid--" Mr. Jameson said.
"Whatever. You decide, Jameson. A photo would be great." Nalla turned back to Peter. "Right, Peter? I heard you take Spider-man's pictures. I was just wondering if you happen to have any of when Spider-man held my sister hostage."
What? Holding her hostage? This was getting ridiculous. First it was assisting, and now he was the actual guy doing it?
Nalla twitched her black pen and muttered. "Well, actually, he didn't do it, but...That freak helped him. He thinks he's such a hero. Hmph. We'll see about that." She was talking to herself instead of saying it to Peter.
"I don't have a picture of...that," Peter responded.
"You're fired!" Mr. Jameson fires him at every little thing.
Betty rushed in, "This young lady here would like to see you, Mr. Jameson." Behind her was a thin looking red-hair with a lot of freckles. She looked familiar. She looked up and saw Peter. She smiled.
"Hi, Parker! N, n, never thought I'd see you again! You've, uh changed! Remember me? Becky Gwens? I was in your group, when we, we were doing the chemistry group project. Do you remember? I remember you! Flash used to dunk your head in the toilet and then he'd punch you until Mary Jane tells him to stop. My God, that sure was entertaining. Parker the class nerd," She said it all really quickly, and giggled stupidly. Becky was nervously rubbing her hands, and knocking her fingers together.
Oh. Now he remembered. Becky Gwens was famous in high school for taking illegal drugs like cocaine with her brother after school. She went into rehab, and this is what she became? She used to be sort of popular, too. She was rumored to have a crush on Harry and Flash (who doesn't!). All the times, she stood beside Flash, watching and supporting the bully beat the lunch out of Peter Parker, the class, no, the school science nerd.
Peter glared at her.
"No offense." Becky said quickly, "Just wanted to jog your mind, you know."
"Miss. Gwens, did you say?" Nalla interrupted.
"What have you got there? Don't tell me you have Spider-man's costume. I've been scammed for three times!" Mr. Jameson spat. It was true. Peter smirked at the thought. The first time someone bought a costume in, he was there, and was pretty confused. But later, they discovered he was a scam. Peter himself had pointed out to Robbie and Jameson the differences between the real one (from photos) and the fake.
"No. I've got pictures of Spider-man at the café. Someone was holding another person's neck, and he had a gun! Spider-man was there. I got one when this woman, "she indicated to Nalla, "hit him."
Everyone was against him today! Peter screamed to himself in his mind. He snatched the pictures from Becky's clammy hands, and took a quick look at them. They were mostly focused on Spider-man. One was when Nalla had her hand on his shoulder; the other was when she slapped him, the others where unimportant pictures of Spider-man gawking silently after Nalla stomped away—all taken at different angles.
Mr. Jameson took them from Peter as he chuckled happily. The photos were passed on to Robbie and Nalla.
"Ooh, Excellent." Nalla marveled at the photos, "Mr. Jameson, I suggest we put all of them on the front page."
Jameson raised a brow, "How?"
"Like a comic strip. And I'll be captioning for them."
"How much do I get paid?" Becky mouth twitched.
"How about 250? Done." He scribbled on a piece of paper, and handed it to Becky." Give this to the lady up front. Shoo."
Becky, still confused and shivering, took the paper, and left the office.
Peter immediately realized something. Since they already had pictures for tomorrow's front page; that meant...
"You too, Parker. Come back tomorrow. We don't need you. Leave." He waved his hand to dismiss Peter. Peter grumbled silently.
Nalla turned to leave, too.
"I'll email my column to you before five this afternoon, Jameson." And she left with Peter, leaving Jameson cackling to himself.
They were outside, when Nalla spoke up, "He almost killed my sister, that man."
"Who? Spider-man?" said Peter.
Nalla nodded, she was close to tears, "The bullet, it hit right on her spine. She's still in the emergency room. The surgeons weren't even sure if she'd live." A tear trailed down on her thin face.
Now Peter was really guilty. He didn't respond.
"Spider-man didn't even try to save her. Maybe he did...tried...but he really... he talked to the guy who had the gun. He talked to him. What was the point anyways?" Nalla chuckled, swallowing tears, "I slapped him good after that. That weak hunk of shit. Bridget and I are really close. Really, really close. She was almost like my only living relative, except for my great-aunt. But I don't see her, you know what I mean, Peter?"
Peter merely nodded. Nalla continued, "My parents died in an accident when she was 12, and I was four, then. We were living in the country, so life was hard. Our legal guardian was our great grandfather. Bridget took care of me and Grandpa. She was the most responsible person in my world. She skipped school to work in multiple part-time jobs to do that. When she was eighteen, Grandpa died. And we moved into the city. She doesn't deserve to die so young!" She turned to Peter, looking at him straight in the eyes, "I know it's like what happens in really dramatic books and movies, but I swear this is true." She paused thoughtfully. "Hey, Peter Parker, are you my friend?"
The last thing Spider-man needed was more friends, especially a friend who hated him. But what could he say?
"Yea." He smiled.
"Great! I know I can trust you, Pete. I'm taking the bus."
Peter reminded her they'd long passed the bus stop.
"We'll take the shortcut then. Mind if you accompany me?" Nalla said. She started towards an ally.
"Sure." Peter followed her.
He had a bad feeling about this.
Sure enough, not long after they'd stepped into the dank ally. Nalla felt the sudden coolness of metal at her head. A person, no, two, three...a huge group of gangsters surrounded them.
