An exhausted young man pulled himself out of the storm drain and stumbled into the nearby bushes, squatting in the rags that remained of his mesh. He held up a sodden baggie made of some mesh. Inside was the Darkstone. He smiled to himself.

"Go home, take a shower first and foremost for as long as it takes, then deal with last night's work," he muttered to himself.

Almost two hours later it was approaching midnight as he knocked on the door to an old brownstone mansion. The door creaked open, and Peter stepped inside. He was dressed in fresh clothes, his hair slick from his shower.

"Strange?" he said. He looked up to the balcony and saw the Sorcerer Supreme in the shadows.

"Yes?"

"I got the Darkstone," he said. "You're the only person I can think of who could put it somewhere safe so it doesn't come back to haunt me."

Strange glided down the stairs and took the paper bag, peering inside. "This is something else," he said, and he looked at Peter sharply.

"You can put it in a safe place, right?" Peter said.

"Most certainly," Strange said, closing the bag. "You did the right thing."

"I would love to stay and tell the story," Peter said, every inch of him sore, "but I really have to go finish something up."

Strange nodded. "Go. Be safe."

Peter shot him a crooked smile. "See you later." He turned and left the building.

Twenty minutes later he trudged up the steps on the sidewalk in front of Roth Hall. He chose not to be seen as he wove through the pack of press in front of the door, then he slipped past the police holding the press back. They moved to stop him, recognized him, then didn't see him. He moved through the front doors and found Brilhart standing gazing down at the arm. It was over six feet from claw to bone knob sticking out of the torn shoulder meat.

"Thought you'd never show," Brilhart said conversationally. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Simple enough," Peter said. "You set a clamp trap, it brushed against it and got its wrist caught. Couldn't pull free, so it tore its arm off trying. You just saved the day. Nothing could survive that."

"Nothing could survive it, right?" Brilhart said, looking somewhat concerned.

Peter looked him in the eye. "Nothing," he said. Brilhart nodded. He turned to Vine.

"Let's figure out some big cuff to stick on this thing so we can give the press what they want," he said. "On the double. We can only be 'making sure of the premises security' for so long before they get antsy."

"You bet," Vine said, looking at Peter. He shook his head. "Not bad," he said. "You got some amazing friends."

"That's true," Brilhart said, looking at him. "Maybe more than you know." He smiled at Peter, who nodded.

"All in a day's work," he said with a grin. He turned and left.

xXx

Peter paused before opening the door. The light was on in his apartment at close to two o'clock in the morning. He sniffed; smelled Mary Jane, bacon, eggs. He smiled and opened the door.

"Just on time," Mary Jane said. "I was just finishing up your breakfast."

"Uncanny," Peter said. "You normally eat breakfast at two in the morning?"

"What, you think I was sleeping with you out there tangling with some critter?" She smiled at him, signs of tension only barely visible around the edges. "So I'm making you breakfast. I knew you'd be back. I mean, this thing only annihilated a few swat teams. Nothing my honey couldn't handle with one hand tied behind his back."

"Ooh," Peter said, easing down into a chair. "Not the words I would have chosen."

"Anyway, you can't complain. Here's your breakfast," she said, putting the food down in front of him. "First aid clinic is set up in the corner for after you eat." She looked at him for a moment. "So what was it?"

"You remember that business with Fisk around Christmas?" Peter said.

"He's behind this?"

"No no, that's when I found the Darkstone. It's a rock that gives power to animals, and if they bite people then the people change and get some characteristics of the animal only darker, more dangerous."

"Okay," Mary Jane said, neatly suspending her disbelief.

"There was a tussle. The rock fell into the water down by the bay. I figured it was swept out to sea or buried. Instead, it somehow got into the sewers and a crocodilian of some sort ate it. Got messed up. Bit somebody. Turned them into some kind of killer croc. Then when it was done, I don't know if the spider that originally bit me found it or if its potency somehow increased…" he said, and he trailed off. He shook himself. "Anyway, some big squishy spider beast was down there, with the stone. I settled its hash," he said, "it's over now and Strange has the stone. So it should be a closed case." He dug into his breakfast.

"And?" Mary Jane said, fork poised over her breakfast.

Peter looked up at her and blinked. "And?"

"There's something else. You stopped yourself." She waited.

"Um," Peter said, thinking back.

She raised an eyebrow. "You can tell me."

"And," he said slowly, "I was just wondering. Why it was going up into the hall, but nowhere else. Why it kept going back." He looked back down at his plate. "I just wondered if it was trying to lure me into battle. That's all." He looked at Mary Jane. "I wonder if the stone is aware. If it hates me." He paused. "I sort of got that feeling."

"Then it's good that the stone is in safe hands," Mary Jane said, returning to her breakfast.

"Yes," Peter agreed, looking down at his plate.

There was a long quiet.

"And?" Mary Jane said. "It's way too quiet for there not to be another 'and.'"

Peter leaned back. "And," he said quietly. "And. And I killed three monsters tonight." He was quiet. "They weren't human. But it was killing. And it was too close, they were too aware." He looked down at his plate. "I don't want to have to decide where the line between person and monster is. Not when it comes to killing." He looked down at his battered hands. "I don't like what I'm feeling about how that turned out. I can't help but wonder if there was another way." He looked up at her. "I just can't for the life of me think what that other way would be."

The phone rang. They looked at it, surprised. Mary Jane got up and answered it. "Hello, Parker Pad. Yeah, he's right here."

Peter took the phone. "Yes?"

"Did I wake you up?" asked a fairly excited voice on the other end.

"No," Peter said. "We were having breakfast. What's up, Doug?"

"Damn," Doug said, a bit crestfallen. "I'll try another time. Anyway, I just got the results back on that sample you left me. It's mutagenic properties are through the roof! And I just talked to Strange, so I know what's going on. Oh, he wanted me to ask you if you got any pictures."

Peter slapped his forehead. "No," he said, his voice flat. "Knew I forgot something. Silly me."

"Well, it's not too late," Doug said. "The Doctor is planning to run an article in the Planetary about this case, he's planning on getting Connors to write a formal paper and maybe getting some interviews. Who would be good?"

"Lessee," Peter said, "Brilhart, Vine, Fenwick, Petit, they were all involved."

"Well, get some pictures of them to go with the interviews," Doug said. "Show some initiative, Parker!" he added with a grin.

"You know suddenly I don't feel bad about waking you up all the time," Peter said, unable to resist grinning himself.

"I'll let you get back to your breakfast," Doug said. "Be in touch." He hung up.

Peter handed the phone to Mary Jane, shaking his head. "Some people," he said. She hung up the phone and returned.

He watched her. "Thanks for believing in me, Mary Jane," he said.

She smiled at him. "It's either that or go insane," she shrugged.

"Whaddya mean 'go'?" Peter grinned.

"You want straight stitches or not?" she said archly. She picked up her glass of orange juice. "A toast!" she said. He managed to raise his glass.

"To making the world safer," she said.

"I'll drink to that," Peter said with a smile.

They did.

3