Disclaimer: Yes, I disclaim.
A/N: Many, many thanks to those who are still reading.
Chapter Four
Spider-Man swung over the wall and dropped in an easy crouch on the pavement. People were running and screaming, but Spider-Man coolly ignored them, focused entirely on the Green Goblin. Jumping easily over the fifteen feet separating him from the yellow-eyed villain, he landed a punch to his chin. The Goblin was thrown for a loop, back-flipping spectacularly through the air. Dr. Connors shook his head sadly and said, "I can't give you an A for that, Peter. You're late again."
Peter woke up with a start and then groaned. It was nearly noon. The police had questioned them for hours, all together at first, and then shuffled them into one of the offices to wait in case they were needed again. Muttering something about finding a restroom, Peter had snuck into Studio Three. Slipping around the cops guarding the doors, he had scrambled up the wall and gotten a good look at the site of the explosion—and the studio walls. He'd returned quietly to the office a few minutes later, more confused than ever.
Rolling out of bed, he stumbled wearily into the shower. A few minutes later he was rubbing his hair dry, pulling on his costume—which needed washing again, badly—and then his street clothes. No classes today, but he was supposed to be at the studio this afternoon to start on the publicity shots. He'd thought that the movie might shut down for a day or two, given the death of one of its principals, but MJ had laughed at him last night when he mentioned it. Ever heard of 'the show must go on,' tiger?
MJ. Peter picked up the phone, hoping to catch her in, but her machine picked up on the second ring. He hung up, disappointed, then noticed the light flashing on his own answering machine.
"Hey, Pete, it's me. Bet you're sleeping through the phone again. I thought I'd give you a heads-up—we're in the paper this morning. You and me and Jameson, we're all over the news this morning, and the news about the explosion isn't even out." MJ's voice sounded a little grim. "Try not to let it get to you, OK? Love you."
Oh, no. I'm really starting to hate the word publicity, you know that? All I want is a quiet life—a little studying, a little time with MJ, a little bad-guy busting. Sheesh. He decided running out to get a paper could wait until after breakfast. Then he remembered he didn't have anything left for breakfast, and no money for either breakfast or a paper. He let his head hit the door with a satisfying thud. Then he grabbed his camera bag and coat, and left. Today just can't get worse.
Hustling through the crowded hall toward Ribeau's office, Peter had his head down, shuffling envelopes full of negatives and several folders. A faint tingling prompted him to step sideways just in time to avoid Quentin Beck, who was striding in the opposite direction, ignoring everyone in his path. His face was twisted into an angry sneer, and Peter wondered if he'd been fighting with Ribeau. As usual, Beck paid no attention to Peter – until he'd gone a few steps past him, when suddenly he stopped and whirled around.
"Hey, Peter, right?"
"Yeah." Peter wasn't sure what to make of the unexpectedly friendly tone.
"Quentin Beck." The special effects wiz held out his hand and Peter shoved his paperwork to one side and grabbed at it. A folder slid to the floor spilling proofs and papers across the hallway. A woman stepping past planted one high heel down on a glossy black-and-white of Mary Jane and continued without stopping.
"Whoops. Let me give you a hand," said Beck. Dropping to his knees he began scooping up pictures. Peter saw him plant a greasy thumb in the center of a photograph and wished he wouldn't, but he forced a smile and a thank you as Beck handed him the messy pile. "Look, I was about to grab some lunch, you wanna come with?"
Surprised, Peter saw that Beck was serious, giving him an ingratiating and very fake smile. What on earth did he want from Peter? "Oh, um…I was on my way to see Ribeau –"
"Mr. Parker?"
The new voice was hesitant. Peter looked up at a very pretty girl about his own age, with curly dark hair and sad eyes, with a large cardboard box cradled in her arms. She was familiar, but for the moment he couldn't place her. "Uh – hi?"
"I'm sorry, um, if you're busy – it's OK, I can come back, or just leave this…" Her soft words trailed off. Peter stood up too fast and dropped an envelope, but this time Beck didn't leap to help. In fact, he was staring at the girl like he'd never seen one before. Abruptly, Peter remembered who she was.
"No, no, it's fine. You're Mrs. Sokal, right?"
"Oh." She looked embarrassed. "It's Susie. I know, last time I saw you I was really rude."
"Well, I'm Peter, and it's OK, I understand. I was totally in the way." He smiled at her, and then stumbled sideways as Beck shouldered past him and stamped off down the hall. Susie stared after him with her mouth open.
"Did I – did I interrupt something?"
"Naw." Peter squatted down and grabbed the fallen envelope, this time without further mishap. "He's like that all the time."
"Oh." Shifting the box in her arms, Susie said, "I've been cleaning up – going through Jeff's things and getting that mess out of the study, and I found some more stuff that looks like it belongs to Apex."
"Great." Actually, by now Peter had gotten his own schedule together and Jeff Sokal's work wouldn't be much use to him, but he was enthusiastic anyway. Susie looked like she could use a little appreciation and cheer. "Why don't you bring it," he thought furiously "um, over here." MJ wouldn't mind him leaving some stuff in her dressing room for a few hours. They walked together, awkwardly, and Peter tried to think of something else to say. "So, you're – things are going OK? I really am sorry, about your husband, and, well, all the trouble you've had."
Susie shrugged and didn't look at him. "Thank you." She bit her lip, then said in a rush, "I read about you in the papers. You know, about you and that actress, Mary Jane? And how you were next-door neighbors and high school sweethearts and all?"
Peter cringed and felt his face heat. Susie was already going on. "It's just, that's the way Jeff and I were. He lived down the street from me, and he was always so shy – it took forever for him to ask me out. We got married right after graduation. Reading about you and her, it was – I cried, it made me think about Jeff. And you're a photographer too, like he was."
"Huh." Peter looked at her and saw a sweet and very private smile cross her face. "That's, well I guess that's nice. I don't mean, that it made you cry – "
Susie interrupted him with a laugh. "No, don't worry about that. It was nice. It made me think about bringing you this stuff," she added, as Peter tapped gently on MJ's door and opened it. The dressing room was empty and Peter dumped his armful on the couch before taking the box from Susie and setting it in the corner. She twisted her fingers nervously now that she had nothing to hold onto. "Jeff was a good person. I always thought we'd have more time…" she trailed off again.
Uncomfortable, Peter stuck his hands in his pockets. One of these nights, if he wasn't fast enough or smart enough, he might not come back, either. How would MJ take that? Of course, she had to have thought about the possibility. She was getting good at bandaging, she knew how dangerous things could get even without a super villain to liven things up. But here were normal people, Susie and Jeff, and it had still happened to them. Trying not to look at Susie as she pulled herself together, Peter felt guilty even though he knew he couldn't stop every tragedy, every time.
Wiping at her eyes she said, "Sorry. I hate falling apart like that, and it keeps happening. So, anyway. It must be fun, getting to photograph your girlfriend? She's really beautiful…" Susie kept up a stream of cheerful chatter as Peter walked her out through the studio buildings toward the gates, and Peter found her easy to talk to, especially about Mary Jane. Susie peeked into the studios to see the sets, and Peter pointed out the different actors and told her about the parts they were playing. They were in the reception area at the front of the building when his spider-sense went wild.
Spinning around, he half-crouched, eyes darting from one side of the lobby to the other trying to spot the danger. Susie, caught mid-sentence, gaped at him but he couldn't stop to worry about that. The danger was all around, intense, but he could see nothing threatening – then he heard an all-too-familiar manic laugh echo through the room.
A flash of light and a cloud of smoke filled the lobby, and the receptionist behind her polished desk screamed and backed against the wall. A figure in shimmering green armor with huge yellow eyes strode through the smoke, pointing a machine gun straight at Peter and Susie. With another insane laugh, the Green Goblin pulled the trigger.
Too late, Peter leaped sideways and pulled Susie to the ground, bracing himself for the ripping pain of the bullets and astonished, angry that his super-human reflexes hadn't reacted in time. A thundering roar of gunfire filled the room, but after a few confused seconds he realized that nothing had hit him. Cautiously, he raised his head – the Goblin was gone.
He sat bolt upright with surprise and stared wildly around the undamaged room. The receptionist was still screaming. Susie rolled over, dazed, and put one hand to her head. He got to his feet, moving toward the spot where the Goblin had so dramatically appeared and disappeared, when his spider-sense went wild again. He spun back to Susie, who was climbing to her feet, and tackled her down to the floor again just as the Goblin appeared in another flash and bang of white smoke at the front door and raised his weapon. This time he heard the first sharp whistle of lead past them, and he prayed desperately that he'd gotten Susie out of the line of fire. The gunfire stopped, and the Goblin was gone.
Staying low, he rolled away from Susie. She didn't move. Uncertainly, Peter checked the front and back doors and saw no one, but the room was filling with smoke and plaster dust, making it hard to be sure. His spider-sense was still tingling and he knew this wasn't over yet. Crawling along the floor, he got the wall behind him and wished his ears would stop ringing.
Another bang and flash, and the Goblin began firing across the room from a spot to one side of him – close enough for Peter to attack. He flung himself into the air, preparing to kick away the machine gun and simultaneously to land a punch at the weak point of his armor between neck and shoulder. But the Goblin continued to laugh and fire, not even noticing as his shoe passed through the gun and his fist slid past without resistance. Peter fell heavily to the floor, lying half in and half out of the Goblin. Then the image disappeared. Suddenly, gunfire was erupting from the back of the lobby and Peter rolled down and away faster than the bullets that tracked him, flattening himself into the corner.
The Goblin was genuinely gone. His spider-sense confirmed it, and Peter pulled away from the wall and made his way through the smoke to Susie's motionless form. Crouching, he put two fingers against her neck and felt a strong pulse, although her skin was sticky with blood. He stood and moved across the room to the receptionist. A few paces away he stopped and rubbed tiredly at his face. He didn't need to go any closer to see that she was dead. The once elegant room, with its dark-red walls and solid furniture, was a mess of broken glass, plaster, and upholstery stuffing.
Shouts and running footsteps heralded the arrival of a few brave souls coming to investigate. The whole attack couldn't have lasted more than five minutes, he realized. He sat down and waited until a black man with a kind, worried face and a security uniform came up to him.
"Did you call an ambulance? Over there, she's hurt but she's alive. The other woman's dead," Peter told him.
"All right, it's OK. There are people on the way," the guard said, and went over to Susie. The smoke and dust were starting to clear, and someone screamed as they saw what happened to the receptionist. Peter closed his eyes and let other people deal with the situation. Why do I feel so tired? he thought. It's like since this happened to Peter Parker, and not to Spider-Man, I'm reacting…like Peter Parker would. Or maybe I'm just not used to people trying to kill me when I'm not wearing tights. He heard sirens, and people were helping him stand and move away, putting a blanket around his shoulders.
Then Mary Jane was there, and everything was all right again. Or as right as it ever got.
"That's all…it happened so fast." Chris had organized coffee and doughnuts, and Peter sipped at his cup. The officer grunted a bit and shut his notebook.
"You're a very lucky young man," he said, shaking his head, and nodded at MJ. "I'll leave you in good hands, but if you remember anything else, no matter what, you give us a call." Peter agreed and smiled and wished he could tell the cops everything. But he couldn't exactly explain how he knew – in all the confusion and noise – that sometimes the Goblin was actually firing and sometimes he wasn't, or why he'd attacked a villain armed with a machine gun. So he couldn't mention going right through him…as if he'd been a ghost. MJ slipped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed, and Peter turned a genuine smile on her as the cop moved off.
"Hey," she said softly. "Are you really OK?"
"Yeah."
"Facing the Green Goblin, actually seeing him come back – it must've been…" MJ wrinkled her nose and failed to come up with a good word to describe it. "No wonder it shook you up." She swung her legs back and forth, as she sat beside him on the table.
"It wasn't that. MJ," Peter hesitated and glanced over at the cops and studio personnel still milling around the conference room. Lowering his voice, he went on, "there's something really weird about this."
"You mean, a dead guy attacking a movie studio with a machine gun isn't weird enough," MJ said straight-faced.
"Well, that's part of it. The Goblin had guns built into that flyer of his, but he always used pumpkin bombs when he went at people directly. More than that – " he frowned as he tried to picture the Goblin in the lobby " – the armor looked different, I can't put my finger on it, but it wasn't quite the same. He didn't say anything, which isn't like the Goblin used to be – he could never resist bragging. But the weirdest thing was that he wasn't always there." He filled MJ in on all the details he hadn't told the police and her eyes grew wide.
For a few minutes, MJ was quiet, digesting everything Peter had told her, and he drank the rest of his cooling coffee and began picking at the edges of the Styrofoam cup. Finally she spoke.
"So, when you went through him, was he really firing or not?"
"You caught that too, huh?" Peter shook his head. "I'm just not sure. My spider-sense was going the whole time, and I was to one side of him then, so there was no extra warning to dodge or anything. If he was firing live right then, then we've got some kind of murderous ghost at Apex Studios."
She snorted. "I have a hard time believing that." But in spite of her brave words, he saw her shiver and wrap her arms around herself. He put the cup down and hugged her.
"Me too. But if it isn't a ghost, what is it? At least some of the time, it wasn't a solid person."
"And then, why would anyone want to pretend to be the Goblin? And why now, and at the studio? It's got to have something to do with the movie," she said.
"Maybe. Except, there's all the stuff with the Sokals." MJ grunted inquiringly, and Peter explained, "first, Jeff gets mugged and killed, then a costumed guy robs their house, and now Susie Sokal is shot. It can't all be unrelated."
"You got shot at too, remember, and if you weren't who you are, you'd probably be dead. Maybe someone has something against photographers?"
"Then why Tim's murder, and the other attacks on stuntmen – " Peter broke off as Chris approached them. She was smiling brightly and comfortingly, but it was obvious that the studio disasters were taking their toll on her.
"Mary Jane, Hon, why don't you and your sweetie head out. The police said you can, and there's nothing more you can do around here." She patted Peter's shoulder.
"Does anyone know what the schedule tomorrow's going to be?" MJ asked.
"Oh, Hon," Chris' mask dropped, and her face was middle-aged and scared, "I think Jon wants to start the filming at six as usual, and I guess there's no reason not to, but, God, I don't know who's going to show up." She was almost in tears.
MJ disentangled herself from Peter and jumped off the table to put her arms around the taller woman. "Hang on, Chris, it's OK. It's going to be OK," she said, repeating it over and over as Chris sniffled into her shoulder. After a few moments, Chris straightened and wiped at the mascara running from her eyes.
"Oh, God, I must look terrible. Thank you, Mary Jane, you're both so sweet, not like that horrible Manny. I've got to fix my face – " She sniffed hard and bolted for the door.
"Manny? I wonder what he did," Peter said.
"Who knows. I want a bath, and bed, if I have to be back here early tomorrow." Peter joined her and they pushed their way out of the conference rooms and down the halls to her dressing room. MJ gathered up her purse and coat, and Peter tried to shove all his folders into the top of Susie's box.
"What's that?"
"Oh, that's what Susie Sokal was here for, she was giving me some more of Jeff's stuff. I haven't had a chance to look at it yet." The folders wouldn't fit.
"Why don't you leave it here? You've got class tomorrow, and you can come get it tomorrow afternoon when you shoot the poster backgrounds."
"Guess you're right." Peter left the box in the corner with the folders in a heap on top of it, and followed MJ out through the parking lot to the street gates. The bus stop was a few blocks down, and then there would be a long ride back to the Village where she lived, and then another bus ride to his apartment.
MJ must have been thinking along the same lines, because she sighed deeply and said, "Maybe we should splurge and get a taxi. It's definitely been a hard day."
"Yeah, I'm not looking forward to the bus either, but I was thinking of a more aerial solution…" Peter grinned at her. She stared at him blankly for a minute before catching on. Her face lit up.
"You don't mind? You sure?" she said. Peter was usually reluctant to take her out web-slinging, afraid that someone would spot them together.
"Like you said, it's been a hard day. We deserve a treat." MJ squealed and Peter grabbed her hand, drawing her into the shadows and into a space between buildings, too narrow to be called an alley.
Five minutes later they were sailing through the New York skyline, MJ's delighted laughter trailing them. It was as if they left the horror and confusion of the past few days on the ground. Peter never felt better, never felt more whole, than he did at times like this – Mary Jane cuddled closely against him as he crossed through a world he owned, a world belonging only to him and to the girl who was more to him than the world. Forgetting the desire to get home and sleep, he carried MJ through the dark and between the lights of Manhattan, to his favorite heights, showing off the most spectacular views. It was midnight before he came to a final, gentle landing on her balcony and set her on her feet. The exhilaration of the trip and MJ's sleepy, happy kiss goodnight stayed with him as he swung back out into the night.
It was time, he thought suddenly, time to stop reacting and start acting. It was good to be Peter Parker, good to work together with MJ, but he'd let it slow him down. People were dying at Apex Studios. He didn't know what Spider-Man could do about it but he would do something. Just being in costume now felt right. He needed to find out what was going on, and find out fast. Two people were dead, and maybe three, if Jeff Sokal really was part of this. There was no telling who might be next, not until he understood what was going on.
Apex Studios was the place to start. He needed to take a closer look at what had happened in the lobby before it was cleaned up. He needed to find out more about the accidents and the explosion. And he had to find out what the connection was between the Sokals and the murders.
Swinging over the gates into the Studio compound, Spider-Man saw that the parking lot and studios were silent, deserted. He landed on the main building, the tallest, and crept quietly to the roof door. Breaking the lock with only a slight twinge from his conscience, he slid inside.
A/N: Thank you to every single person who has read and reviewed this. I really appreciate it. It's been way too long since I updated, and I apologize!