xXx

"You know, pre-marital counseling is where all the ugly stuff comes out," Peter grinned at Mary Jane as they turned into the church parking lot. "This is the part where the preacher warns me that you tend to be domineering."

"And where I'll finally discover that you have a classic male fear of commitment," she shot back, arching an eyebrow. She parked the car.

They strolled up to the side door that led to the Reverend's office. Peter tried it, then blinked with surprise when it was locked.

"Huh," he said. He knocked on the door. Waited. A chill breeze whirled by. Peter cleared his throat, glanced around. Then stiffened.

Mary Jane noticed. She sighed. "It was inevitable, really," she said. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Peter said, sifting his senses as he stared around. "Wait in the car."

"Hell no," she said. "The safest place on this block right now is right behind you."

He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged as a suitable counter-argument didn't present itself. He hopped over the railing and padded over to the windows into the Reverend's office. The lights weren't on. He squinted at the windows, saw one where the latch wasn't quite latched.

An adhered nudge later, the window slid open. Peter's lithe form barely slipped through. He poked his head out.

"Stay by the door, I'll let you in," he said. Then he slid the window shut.

Mary Jane felt very exposed and vulnerable, alone by the locked door. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, but she was still startled when the door rattled and slid open. Peter glanced at her briefly, then turned back to the church.

"Stay behind me," he said. "Something is very wrong here. Can you smell it?"

"Smell?" Mary Jane said. She sniffed. "No."
He nodded. "Just as well. Not a word, now." They closed the door to outside, and Peter prowled toward the sanctuary. Mary Jane noted that if he had fur on his back it would be bristling right now; her cat had a similar look when stalking a mouse or a bit of cellophane.

They walked out onto the dais at the front of the sanctuary. "Wait here," Peter said. "I'll stay in sight, but I'm looking for clues."

"Do your thing," Mary Jane said, leaning back against the wall and glancing around nervously.

Peter's eyes flickered around, taking everything in as he slowly walked down to the middle aisle. He squatted effortlessly, and reached under a pew. Standing, he had a fat legal pad folder. He opened it, then closed it and put it down on the pew. He squatted again, and touched something under the pew. Looking around sharply, he approached the other side door that led to the dais.

"What did you find?" Mary Jane said in a stage whisper, somehow reluctant to speak louder.

"Blood," Peter replied softly. Mary Jane shivered.

Senses at full battle ready alert, Peter pushed the door open and followed it into the narrow room that bordered the dais. He glanced around. A pew was in this space, a box of hymnals. He touched the pew. The cushion had been punctured, white fluff poked out of it. Peter glanced at the wall, looked at the trim on the other side of the room. It had deep scratches in it. He looked up.

There was a crawlspace, and its sliding door was scratched. He hopped up and adhered to the ceiling with the fingertips of one hand as he slowly slid the crawlspace open. Steeling his nerve, he popped his head up to have a look.

He came face to face with the eye sockets of the corpse of Reverend Eckridge. Shriveled, empty eyes lay flat in the sockets, the fat face was now lean and frozen in horror. The body had been broken and folded and stuffed between a rafter and a roof joist. Peter steeled his jaw and quickly dropped.

"Our meeting is cancelled," he said tersely. "I need your cell phone."

Mary Jane quickly fished it out of her purse and handed it to him. Peter closed his eyes, letting his mind remember a number for him. Then he punched it into the phone. Waited.

"Yes," he said in a normal voice that seemed oddly loud in the hushed church. "Brilhart, it's me Parker. Yeah. Uh, are you really busy right now? Just finished dinner? See, I've got a problem here. Would you mind meeting me at Trinity Hill Baptist? Here's the address," he said, rattling it off. "Look, I'm there right now and… well, I'm going to wait for you. Yes sir. Thanks. Okay. Bye." He hung up and handed the phone back to Mary Jane.

"Are you insane?" Mary Jane said in wonder. "This place is going to be crawling with cops. We plan to get married here, ya know."

"Our wedding is two weeks from today," Peter said calmly. "Reverend Eckridge's dead body is neatly folded up there. If the police have the body and conduct an investigation, we'll be better off time wise than if they realize he's missing and start hunting for him. And I don't want to move the body or tinker with this. Furthermore, if we proceeded and they found him two days before the wedding, we'd have a problem. I gotta protect my credibility at this point, and if I call it in as soon as I find it, to somebody who knows me, I'm better off."

"Do you come up with contingency plans for this stuff?" Mary Jane asked. "You worked that out pretty fast. I bet last night you were just laying in bed thinking, 'Hm. If I find the mutilated body of our preacher, I'll call Brilhart.'" She wavered. "There's a dead body right there?" she asked weakly, pointing. Peter nodded.

She sat down on the pew, struggling. "Oh God," she said. "I don't want to throw up."

"Come on," Peter said, opening the door that led back to the recreation room. "Let's get you some… fresh…"

She looked up as the chill breeze drifted across her. Joining Peter, she gasped and put her hand over her mouth.

A huge hole had been torn in the back wall of the rec room, seven feet to a side, through brick and plaster.

"Okay," Peter pattered, his eyes still keen, "I'm guessing this is how the perp got in."

"I just hope he's gone," Mary Jane said in a small voice.

"I think he is," Peter said. "For now."

xXx

The Owl was pacing back and forth over the dusty floor of the loft. He reached one stained wall and turned to measure out deliberate steps towards the other.

He hesitated, ears perking up. The rasp of steel on stone. He turned to the huge windows at one end of the warehouse loft. They were hanging open, drifting slightly in the breeze. A frayed steel cable squirmed up over the side, it's texture buzzing against the windowframe. The cable wrapped around a pillar and then a heavy-set man rose into view. The cables retracted under his long heavy coat with a rattling buzz that was quite disconcerting.

The newcomer stepped down into the room, his face gray and his horn rim glasses fogged with dust. He smiled, his teeth dry.

"Your trip went well?" the Owl said.

"Indeed," nodded the heavy man as he strode into the room. "The grandson of Forrest Parker knows he is threatened. They will need a new minister," he added with a wide grin that did his squat face no favors. "Many thanks for finding this 'Peter Parker' for me."

"I am here to help you," the Owl said with a gracious bow. He straightened. "Who be grandfather Parker?"

"A miserable thrice-cursed traitor," the big man spat. "He had a chance to create greatness from the ashes of the world and he turned away from the path of power. He infiltrated the Red Skull's organization. He came with ruin in the shadows of his lies and plots. I, Otto Octavious, worked towards the integration of unholy magic and science to bring about an age of darkness that would make the worst superstitious and aggressive ignorance of the Dark Ages into a mere twilight. While Rasputin and I worked feverishly to transform the world, Parker couldn't see past the invisible lines of geo-political boundaries and foolish prattling politics."

He slowly turned to face the Owl, his eyes glittering behind dusted and cracked lenses. "It is no accident," he growled, "that I have been awoken at this time. It is my fate, my fate, to kill Parker's grandson on the day of his wedding." He leaned back, satisfied that he had made his point. Then he threw back his head and laughed, a deep and booming sound that rolled through the loft. The Owl cackled, his screams of laughter counterpoint to the glee of the mad doctor.

xXx

Brilhart stepped off the box on the pew and hopped to the floor. He was pale, shaken. Peter raised his eyebrows.

"Nasty, huh," he said.

Brilhart faced off with him. "My home number is unlisted, Parker," he said. "I'm sure the station didn't give it to you. You're the one that called in that weapons cache on the docks last year."

"Got me," Peter said sheepishly.

"That's been bothering me, wondering who that was," Brilhart said. "As for this mess. What the hell is going on here?"

"I don't know," Peter said with a shake of his head. He glanced over at Mary Jane, who sat on a chair with her back to the wall. "The body up there is our minister," he said, looking back at Brilhart. "We're going to get married in this church.

"Congratulations," Brilhart said to Mary Jane and Peter. "Why does this stuff happen to you?" he asked Peter. "How did you get to be such a lightning rod? Now that we've been frank with each other, I'm dying to know."

"Me too," Peter said, eyebrows raised. "I have no idea."

"I have a theory," Mary Jane said. "I think he's burning off karma for something really bad he did once."

"Well get on with it," Brilhart said, squinting up at the scratched crawlspace. "It's too dangerous."

"There's more," Peter said. He walked over to the door that led into the rec room and opened it.

Brilhart blinked as he saw the huge hole in the wall. He followed Peter over to it.

"Looks like your friend's work again," he said in a low voice.

"Believe me, that's the first thing I looked for," Peter replied. "But see these grooves? This was done with something metal. Looks almost like a cable or a whip. Check out the serrations here, where a cable seemed to hit the wall and skid. This wasn't done by fists or claws or tools. I've never seen anything like this before." Peter turned to Brilhart. "I came to you first because I know you'll hear me out. I have absolutely no motive here. It's in my best interests for this to go without a hitch. The hitching. To go with… Okay, for this wedding to be uncomplicated."

"So you called me instead of 911 because you think I'll make allowances for you," Brilhart said, eyes narrow and jaw tight.

"Yes," Peter said with a nod, putting his palms together and nodding. "Yes, please."

Brilhart sighed and shook his head, rubbing his neck and squinting at the broken wall. "Dammit, I think you're right," he said. "I'm going to need a statement."

"We'll follow you to the station," Peter said in a small voice.

xXx

"Can I use your phone?" Peter asked as they got into Mary Jane's car in the parking lot of the police station.

"I swear," she said testily, "I've been to the police station more times since I met you than I have in my entire life previously. I knew the desk sergeant by name, Parker."

"Yeah, but can I use your phone?"

"Why don't you have your own phone?" she continued. "I mean really, you use more minutes on this thing than I do."

"I used to just use pay phones all the time, if you can believe it," Peter said, "but they're a dying breed. If I had a cell phone I'd leave it places. Bottom of lakes, in the infrastructure of buildings, somewhere on a two mile roof chase, places like that. Can I use your phone?"

"Yes, already, just use it." She stared at the road as she drove out of the parking lot.

Peter closed his eyes, remembered a number, punched it in.

"Illyana," he said after a few seconds. "I think we need to talk. Something's come up with the wedding. Yeah. Our minister was murdered by something weird at the church. Want to take a look? Okay. Yeah, see you then."

Peter disconnected the phone and stuck it back in Mary Jane's purse.

"So what was that about?" Mary Jane asked.

"Illyana is a wizard, Strange's apprentice. She can teleport around, she's got this really funky wizard outfit. Heh. Anyway. She's going to take a look and catch up with us at your place.

"Fair enough," Mary Jane said. "I suppose I don't get to drop you off at your place then."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea anyway," Peter muttered as he shifted in his seat. "I really think we should stick together until this is worked out. I don't want to leave you alone when something like that is running around."

Mary Jane heaved a sigh. "We have the most romantic sleepovers."