Friday, October 31. Halloween.
Dawn changed the city from a galaxy of light to planes and angles of reflected sun. Illyana watched through her scrying pool. As soon as sun lay across the waters and illuminated the maze of steel and concrete, Illyana focused on her soul sword.
As Octavius's consciousness ebbed with the coming of the dawn, his network loosened its grip enough for Illyana to find her blade. With an imperious gesture she pulled it from its obfuscated surroundings and gripped the weapon once again. While the surroundings were concealed from her scry, her Soul Sword was a part of her very spirit, and it could not be easily kept from her.
"So far so good," she said, letting the scry fade to black and she twirled the blade once, then rested her forehead on it in relief.
She angled her head, listening, then she gestured. A portal opened beside her, and Strange stepped through.
"I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?" he asked.
"Not at all," she said. "I'm just keeping an eye on Parker and his wedding efforts. I'm the wedding coordinator," she added.
Strange nodded. "That's fine. I'm glad you are a part of their efforts. I came because I'm going to be out of town for a few days. Out of touch. You will not be able to find me by scrying, I'll be a bit further afield. I don't want you to be concerned. I should be back by Monday at the latest."
"What's your plan?" Illyana asked, a bit concerned.
"I have a trap laid to get Mordred," Strange said, "and I've got to be ready when he falls into it. I don't think it will take him long to go after my bait."
"So you're going to be all mysterious," Illyana said wryly. "I suppose that's your right."
"Indeed," Strange said with a small nod. "Keep everything together while I'm gone. I am more cautious this time. Hopefully I won't require a rescue." He smiled briefly.
"Go get him, Strange," Illyana said seriously.
He nodded, and stepped out of her world.
With a deep sigh, she plodded up to her throne and sat. She wondered why she hadn't told him about Octavius.
Then she shivered. Might have something to do with the bad seed, the family tree… she shook her head. Strange didn't need to know about this until she had it all figured out.
"I'm running out of time," she murmured.
Standing, she approached her scrying pool. "Okay, Octavius. Where are you hiding?"
xXx
"How's my hair?" Mary Jane asked nervously.
"Your parents have seen you before," Peter said, somewhat on edge. "They know you're beautiful. Relax."
"Right," Mary Jane said. "Relax."
The pair walked into the airport terminal, packed with travelers. Mary Jane held on to Peter's belt as he swiftly navigated the crowd, checked the flight's arrival time, and maneuvered over to the gate where they'd be getting off.
Conversation was impossible, so they waited until the passengers started leaving the plane, walking up the tube into the terminal.
"They're going to be close to the end," Mary Jane said. "Dad hates standing in lines. There's a certain way things are done."
Peter steeled himself and waited stoically.
He didn't need to be told when Mary Jane's parents came up the ramp. Her father had sleepy eyes and an enormous paunch, thick hair on his neck, a jaunty hat on his head and a plaid jacket. Her mother had a pinched and worried face, painfully thin, a scarf tied over her head and sunglasses that were too big for her. But each one echoed Mary Jane. Peter drew in a breath and let it out.
"Showtime," he muttered.
"That's them!" Mary Jane said, pointing. They headed over.
"I'm just saying," her father said, "for what an airline ticket costs they could spring for some peanuts. Hello, darling," he said to Mary Jane, pulling her into a hug. "Would this be the lucky groom?" he added, his voice flat as he stared at Peter. Mary Jane nodded, putting a bright face on it.
"At least you're not gay," her father said to Mary Jane with a shrug. He turned to Peter. "I'm Alonzo Watson, this is my wife Angela, pleased to meet you," he said deliberately as he extended his meaty hand. Peter shook his hand.
"Pleasure to meet you too," he said as warmly as he could. "I'm Peter."
"Enough of this lollygagging around, let's get the luggage and get out of here. I hate airports. All the sickness and disease. It can travel around the country with the speed of jets now, a cold can break out in New York and we have it in Texas by the end of the day. It's very sad. I hope you won't mind carrying our bags," he said to Peter as they reached the luggage carousel.
"Not at all," Peter said, the smile fixed on his face.
"Oh, Angie," Alonzo said as they waited for the luggage. "Here ya go." He slipped her a folded ten dollar bill.
"What's that about?" Mary Jane asked, blinking.
"I figured your fiancé would stand us up at the airport, that's all," Alonzo said. "So glad you could make it, Parker. Mary Parker." He shook his head. "We want you to be happy, dear," he said.
"That must be your bag," Peter said in a voice that was supposed to be cheerful. A lumpy orange garment bag was slowly headed towards them on the carousel.
"Good eyes," Mary Jane's mother said with a nod.
"How do you know what our luggage looks like? For all you know it could be any of these pieces. That was a good guess, Parker. Do you make it a practice to look for other people's luggage?"
"Mary Jane has a matching overnight bag," Peter said evenly. "It's not a common color." He smiled at them as hard as he could.
"Very sharp," Mary Jane's mother confided to Alonzo. He snorted.
"You seem like a smart alec," he said. "I can't stand a smart alec."
"Me either," Peter said seriously. "Personally, I think they should all be stuck in cattle cars and shipped over the border." His face betrayed no pain as Mary Jane settled her weight on his foot.
"Mom, that's your bag," she said. "Great! Grab that and we're ready to go."
Peter hefted the bags and started threading through the crowd, his entourage in tow.
"I don't know what's going to be more fun," Peter muttered so only Mary Jane could hear him as they pushed through the crowd. "Tackling Octavius or going to the wedding rehearsal."
"Peter," Mary Jane breathed, "you will behave yourself or else. Don't make me finish the thought."
Peter sighed.
"Are you ready for lunch?" Peter asked as Mary Jane threaded the car through traffic, the airport far behind.
"Yes please," Mary Jane's mother said.
"Lunch sounds like a good idea, there's nothing like an airplane trip to dry you out and work up an appetite," her father added. "They don't give you enough oxygen on airplanes." It was quiet for a moment. "Where are we going to lunch?" he asked.
"Goldens," Peter said. "It's a buffet place. Unless you'd like some pizza."
"Thousands of restaurants in New York and that's what you pick," Alonzo said with a shake of his head. "Whaddya think, dear, pizza or cafeteria?"
"Pizza's good," she replied.
"Luckee's Pizza it is," Mary Jane said brightly. "We haven't been there together in almost two years!"
"Yeah, great, I'm overjoyed, hope they still have pizza," her father grumped.
The rest of the trip passed in awkward quiet. They arrived at the pizza place, went inside and took a booth.
"Do you think our bags will be safe in the trunk?" Alonzo asked. "Crime in New York is legendary."
"It'll be safe enough, dad," she replied.
"So Parker," Alonzo said, re-orienting. "What is it that you do for a living. My girl says you are a freelance photographer."
"Yes, for the Planetary," Peter said.
"What kind of pictures do you do? Planets?" he said, smiling blandly at his own joke.
"It's a popular science magazine," Peter said. "They do monthly themes, and I try to get pictures of what they're after."
"Try to get pictures," Alonzo said. "Do you sometimes not get pictures?"
"No, I do," Peter said. "I'm kind of looking around to see if that's what I want to do for the next few years. It's a good job, got me through college, and my boss is a great guy."
"Well that's important," Alonzo said with a condescending nod. "Is this something you can support a wife on? A kid?"
"Half pepperoni and half sausage looks good," Mary Jane said, intently studying the menu.
"Right," Peter said. "I'll go order. And I need to wash my hands. I'll be back," he said with a strained smile.
"Nice boy," Mary Jane's mother noted.
Her father snorted. "He could use a haircut and about ten pounds. Too scrawny. Is that the fashion these days, that jacket he was wearing? Mary honey, are you positive about this?" her father asked, concerned.
"Yes," she said firmly.
"Have you met his father?" her mother chimed in. "That's how you can tell what kind of man he'll turn out to be, just look at his father. He seems to be tense, dear. Did you think he seemed tense? It's just very strange that he hasn't wanted to meet us. And he has a limp. Why is he limping? Is he clumsy? Into sports? I hope he doesn't limp at the wedding."
Alonzo shook his head. "He has debt, doesn't he. He looks like he has debt. Seems downtrodden. When I married your mother, I didn't have debt. We didn't have much, but there weren't any credit cards then that brought us down. If you get married to him, I don't want our little girl having to go broke. Maybe you can do better. Have you looked around? Whassamatta? Hey, Mary, we're talking to you, answer us, we're your parents."
"Look, I'm sorry," Mary Jane said, trying to hold her temper. "I chose Peter Parker."
"I hope you don't get sorrier," her father said in a blaze of witty rhetoric. Peter returned to the table.
"All set," he said.
"Good. I'm hungry," Alonzo said. "This place, are they slow? Fast? I hate it when they don't put enough toppings on. Remember the last time we were here? Barely any pepperoni."
Mary Jane leaned her head back and counted to ten.
Mary Jane and Peter rode in the car, finally alone together, in stony silence.
"Just couldn't let it go," Mary Jane said.
"He was nagging me about finances all through lunch," Peter said, his voice tight. "Sorry. It seemed like the thing to do at the time."
"You could have let him pay for lunch. That would have been a bright spot," Mary Jane said through tight lips.
"And ten years from now when we get together for Christmas he'd probably tell a story about how the first time he met me he had to pay for lunch. I felt I was going to have to pay one way or the other." He let out a deep sigh and ran his hands through his hair. "God. At least they live in Texas. How can you stand those people?"
"Look, Parker," she said in a hard voice, eyes riveted to the road. "You may not like them, but they are my parents. Alright? I know they aren't easy to live with. But I don't think I need to sit here and listen to you run them down. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," he said shortly.
Silence settled once more until they reached Peter's apartment. "You coming upstairs?" he asked quietly as Mary Jane parked the car.
"I suppose," she said. "For a minute. I can call and double check my manicure appointment at two."
"Good deal," Peter said with a nod. "I got a haircut about then. Seems wrong to pay twenty bucks for a haircut," he said as they got out of the car.
A minute later he let them into the apartment. He strolled over to the answering machine; a message.
Eep "Peter, this is Mr. Stacy. Urm… not sure how to ask this. Gwen didn't come home last night. I was wondering if maybe you knew where she is. It's just after noon now and I haven't seen her. It's okay if there's some batchlorette party or something, I just wasn't sure. If you could give me a call back I'd appreciate it." Eep
Peter and Mary Jane exchanged a worried look.
"No party?" Peter said.
"I have no idea where Gwen might be," Mary Jane said, nervous.
"I bet I know who does," Peter said, his voice hard. He picked up the phone, called Illyana's cell phone. "This is Peter. Scry for Gwen, she's missing. Get back to me as soon as possible." He slammed the phone down, scowling.
"I could search this city, take it apart top to bottom, and still have no luck finding her," he said. "Tonight I've got to do something about Octavius before the wedding rehearsal. I simply don't have enough time to pull this off."
"Get a haircut," Mary Jane said. "And when you fight Octavius, tell him to leave your face alone. I do not want to have to Photoshop our wedding pics. I've got to go get ready for the wedding. You go do your thing."
"Will do," Peter nodded, his eyes glinting with something beyond anger. "I might be a little late to the rehearsal."
"Peter, my love," Mary Jane said sincerely, "I understand."