Mary Jane patted Aunt May's leathery hand, and smiled down at her. "Get well soon," she said softly. Then she turned and walked out, headed for the waiting room.

She made it through the doors into the waiting room when she saw the bald man in the trench coat smiling at her in a way she felt slithering down her back. She hesitated. Oh dear. Then she breezed down the hallway deeper into the hospital as though she knew where she was going. She glanced over her shoulder. With fluid grace he followed, his slim form seeming to take up the entire doublewide hallway.

"You shouldn't have gotten involved, girl," he hissed. "You're out of your depth. But I'm glad you did," he added, as he licked his lips, his eyes traveling up and down her form. "Mary Jane," he said suddenly.

She stopped and glanced back—

caught his eye—

"Stop," he said softly, and she froze. He strolled up to her, leaned close without breaking eye contact; he sniffed her. "I was in prison for a long time," he whispered to her, his breath chilly. "I haven't had a chance to properly celebrate… my freedom." He touched her shoulder, and she quivered with revulsion.

If she were not lost in those depthless reptilian eyes, she would have screamed. Her whole world had shrunk to his eye…

"Can't say I didn't warn you," came a tightly furious voice behind him. The bald man turned just in time to catch an elbow in the eye socket. The ringing impact spun him around, but he recovered almost instantly. Mary Jane dove to the side, leaving them plenty of room.

The man darted at Peter with a rapid strike; Peter snagged his wrist and pounded a heavy blow to his gut. Organs spread then snapped back into place; this man, was he even human? Peter quickly ducked as the man spat at him. Something wet sizzled over his head, slapped into the floor and sent up wisps of smoke as it ate into the floor.

Peter kicked at him, but the man was unnaturally quick. He deflected the kick and pounded a quick blow into Peter's groin, knocking him down. The man spun and dove into the stairwell. Peter was on his feet in a flash and after him, while Mary Jane lay curled up on the floor struggling to breathe.

They sprang up the steps, both of them disturbingly agile and strong, taking whole flights in a bound. Peter leaped over one railing and sent his feet sailing up across the next tier, crushing his foe into the wall. The bald man giggled as he spun free. Peter snatched his shirt and whipped his head into the wall; it bounced off, leaving a wet spot, and the man didn't stop giggling; his skull had deformed for a moment, but now he seemed fine. Peter felt revulsion crawl across him from even touching this man.

He effortlessly slid out of Peter's grip.

Peter gasped, and scrabbled for him, full adhesion on. He tore off the jacket, but some shimmering tight shirt was beneath it. He snatched at that and his hands came away slick, the bald man dashed up another flight.

"No!" shouted Peter. He jumped after him—

His head rang with the impact as the wiry man turned and smashed a kick into his forehead, and he was shoved into it by the force of his leap. He staggered in the air and crashed down to the steps, and his assailant was on him. Peter shoved at him, but the man maneuvered around and wrapped him with an arm, then his other arm. From behind, the bald man began to contract his arms.

Peter let out a hoarse shout as his ribs buckled. Something—the bald man's arms lost their joints! He felt the arm bones slither down, disconnecting into vertebrae. He realized he was effectively in the crushing grip of a snake. Straining, he hurled his strength against the bonds.

The bald man giggled and flexed his "arms" tighter. Peter felt his air leave him in a rush. He felt his bones strain—

In that moment, things slid into clarity for him. He lay on the grimy concrete floor of a landing in the stairwell, he felt the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, smelled human disease buried in antiseptic leaking from every floor. He realized that this man was crushing the life out of him. And from deep inside a fury rose.

He let it.

He threw his last strength into the constricting grip once more, enough to turn slightly. Then he raised his leg and crushed a kick down at an awkward angle. He still managed to catch the bald man's knee. He savagely kicked again. Again.

The bonds loosed some. The giggling stopped.

Peter slung his head sideways, crushing the side of his forehead into his attacker's teeth. Again. He felt his forehead bleeding from where the teeth cut it. He managed to squirm once more to face his attacker.

For a moment they locked eyes.

In Peter's eyes, there was no doubt.

In the bald man's stare, there was fear.

Peter snapped his head forward again, catching the snake man right between the eyes. The bald man's nose crumpled then sprang back. Peter threw his strength against the arms again, and this time he managed to squirm loose. He leaped to his feet.

The snake man rolled over backwards and popped up, snarling, a thin trickle of blood coming from his unbroken nose.

Peter ached, but he didn't feel the pain. "That all you got?" he gasped, his lungs straining and desperate.

This time the thin man leaped down the stairs. He got down a flight and a half before Peter cleared the railing and smashed down on him from above. They tumbled to the ground in a flail of limbs, and Peter introduced the bald man to each and every step on the way down. Peter grasped at his ankle, got a good grip, squeezed. The bones flexed in his grip, and the bald man effortlessly whipped free.

"That's real annoying," Peter gritted out, and he sprang after him.

The bald man let loose a hissing snarl, tugged something from his belt. Peter's senses went wild, catching a whiff of chemical fire, and he sprang back. Flame gusted up the stairwell, and he whirled around the corner unsinged.

When he peeked again a moment later, Voorhees was gone.

"Didn't hear the fire door go," Peter muttered to himself. He heard a wrench of concrete on metal, and a tinkle of metal fragments. He whirled down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairwell was a locked fire door and a grate that had been torn up off the floor. Peter knelt by it.

The grate was a foot square.

"No way," he said to himself, touching the opening. "There is no way he got through this."

Then he stood, and slowly backed away.

"Mary Jane," he breathed.

He was running up the stairwell a second later.

As he cleared the stairwell and jogged back towards the emergency room, he sniffed the pale dust on his hands. Silicon graphite, his senses informed him.

"That's not sold in hardware stores," he muttered, trying to wipe the frictionless greasy dust from his hands. He reached the waiting room and spotted Mary Jane standing by the wall, her eyes wide and staring.

"MJ!" he said quickly, jogging to her. Her eyes touched on him and her face lit up. She pulled him into another fierce hug.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," she said, her voice muffled in his shirt.

"Yeah," Peter said, gently touching his bleeding forehead. "Let's get out of here. There's a Perkins down the street."

xXx

They sat together quietly in the corner finishing off pancakes and sausage, not saying much. Peter drank down the last of the nasty coffee.

"I've never felt that… vulnerable," Mary Jane said softly. "When he looked into my eyes." She shook her head, then shivered violently. "If you hadn't showed up to stop him, there's nothing I could have done to a man like that to stop him."

Peter looked down at his empty plate and didn't say anything at all.

Mary Jane sighed. "But you did show up," she said. "Did he get away?"

"Through the floor," Peter said softly. "This is the price of the power. Aunt May is in the hospital and you're being stalked by this loon. Because of me."

She stood up and squeezed his arm. "You'll just have to put him away, then, won't you." There was something hard beneath her light tone. A certainty. "Keep me posted."

"I will," Peter said. "Hey, be sure you're with other people today, stay safe, maybe avoid your usual haunts. I'll see what I can do. If possible, I want to get this whacko taken care of before he has time to do any more damage. Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay." She smiled at him briefly. "Go get 'im, tiger." Then she turned and swayed out of the restaurant.

"Oh, Harry," Peter said softly to himself, "right now I wish I was you." Because he longed to go with her.

Then he got up and headed to the college darkroom.