6. Mysterio
1995
Dusk, a time of meetings, showdowns. The last view of light before darkness overcomes the world as you see it. The bright sun, often colored yellow with crayon, transitions to orange, then into bleeding red as the last bit of light peaks.
It also made for a great atmosphere.
Quinn Beck carefully adjusted the build of her T-Rex. The wire frame made the poses adjustable, but fragile. Finally satisfied after several minutes of experimentation, she placed it back down on it's pedestal, which in actuality was a nice flat rock she had found outside. The dusty orange Carnivore was surrounded by dozens of little army man standing in formation.
Outside Quinn's window, the sun was peaking just right for her setup, she had waited all day for it. She already had the scene written out, storyboarded in a book under her bed. It was a story only a child could think of and take so seriously. At least, Quinn took it seriously. The front door downstairs creaked open.
"Quinn, you up in your room?" A voice called out with a slight slur.
Quinn on another day would have paused, waited to see if he called out for her again. If he did, she would respond, if he didn't, it wasn't important. Today she was fixated on setting the scene, only half aware of the footsteps trudging up the stairs.
Her father only had a buzz going on as he stepped into the doorframe of Quinn's room. He watched her setting up her little figures, some were old hand-me downs, Others handmade with hard clay.
Elmore Beck was a farmer, and not a very successful one. He didn't seem to have much success with anything in life. It was probably why his father passed the family business on to his sibling, probably the best choice. If Elmore was pissed or jealous of his brother, he was usually too drunk to care.
He let Quinn continue on for a minute, before finally speaking up.
"Quinnie, it's about time to get dinner goin." Elmore wasn't so much of a failure that he didn't know how to cook. He just didn't feel like doing it. That was perhaps his prime reason for not succeeding in anything. He just didn't feel like it. His daughter was perhaps the exact opposite, feeling a drive to do. To achieve.
Quinn was startled, just a bit, as she looked up at her father, thick glasses enlarging her eyes somewhat comically. Another day, she would get up right away. Today, she was really dedicated to her set. It gave her some courage, to say, somewhat meekly:
"I'm doing a scene daddy, I'll come downstairs soon. Dinner will be extra good, I promise." Quinn had no malice, or dismissal I'm her tone. She said it as respectfully and kindly to her father as she could. She hoped making it sound like dinner would somehow be better would improve his mood, at the least let her have this one thing.
Her sweet words didn't seem to register to Elmore, who walked over and picked up the camera. Quinn avoided showing fear, or worry. He had it up to chest level as he turned it around in his hands.
"Movie makin huh, who gave you this camera?" He asked with only slight curiosity, but he seemed to be analyzing the old tech as he looked it over. Quinn wondered if he was actually interested, maybe she could slowly warm him up to her idea of a career, her dream.
"Uncle Vinnie did. Said he found it, free to take. It's a bit fragile, but-"
Suddenly, Elmore dropped the camera, intentionally. Quinn would remember the drop in slow motion, but in reality, the drop was sudden-
CRASH*
-as it broke apart on the floor. To Quinn, the sight was comparable to seeing a person hit the sidewalk, after jumping off a skyscraper.
"This shit is a waste of time. Daydreaming is for losers. Get dinner going." Her father said, with a complete lack of emotion or care.
He left the room, presumably to watch the game until dinner was served. Quinn tried to hold her composure as she picked up the pieces of her broken camera. She set the pieces on the table beside her. As she picked up the eye of the camera, she noticed it had no cracks in the glass, not that it mattered. Her dams broke, tears flooding from her eyes as she sobbed.
You are the real loser dad
2003
All he wanted to do was try.
Peter didn't expect to actually be picked for the baseball team. He played with his uncle often, who often tried all sorts of sports with Peter, and in turn Ben would try to understand Peter's "science stuff". Now Uncle Ben was no fool, but Peter's father, Richard, was more the science guy.
In spite of that, Uncle Ben never dismissed Peter's interest, or try to bury them under sports. He was always supportive of Peter. Still, he was shocked when Peter asked if he could practice with him that summer, to try to get on the middle school team.
Ben was surprised, and had to genuinely ask Peter if he wanted to really do it. That he wasn't just pretending for Ben, or May's sake. Peter insisted it was because he wanted to.
And it was true. Peter didn't love baseball, but it was a game he understood, a game they watched and bonded over. He wanted to do something that didn't involve people kicking at his legs or tackling him. He would even have a hard helmet to protect him for May's sake. So they practiced that summer, and before Peter knew it he was at tryouts.
Peter tapped his foot rapidly on the bench waiting for his turn. He got up hoping the shaky feeling would leave him. It did when he got on the plate, more out of inevitably than confidence driving him.
When Peter's bat made a cracking noise, he realized he hit the ball. It took him a second to kick into high gear, and run. He made it to second base right before the ball got to the other players hands, safe.
"Ben I-I did it!" Peter had exclaimed when it was over.
Peter was shocked to find out he made the team, but Ben wasn't. Peter just didn't have faith in himself to see that he did good enough, that he was good enough.
"I told ya kiddo. I never doubted you for a second." He put a hand on Peter's head, shagging up the tidy hair.
Unfortunately, Flash Thompson was also on the baseball team. He watched Peter get his head ruffled by his loving guardian, while he was the "best player". His own father was busy drinking himself to a stupor at home. Flash hit more home runs then anyone else, but the twig got affection, and he didn't even have a father! Just an uncle that was more of a father then...
Resentment grew in Flash's heart, and that resentment would lead to an eventual event. An event that would shape his relationship with Peter Parker, for many years.
Peter knew he wasn't popular. He knew he still wouldn't be even being on a sports team. But he wanted to try to be social, to engage with others instead of staying the class bookworm.
He was still shocked when Flash Thompson shoved him to the floor. Flash was a pretty big kid for his age, he was like the troll from lord of the rings, at least to Peter. Not in the stupid sense, the scary sense.
"Flash, what's the big deal?"
Flash grabbed Peter by the collar of his white dress shirt, and pulled him close.
"Because you are too full of yourself, that's why." Flash said. Peter really wasn't. He was happy that he made his uncle happy. He was happy that he got on a sports team. Peter would have said so, had he gotten the chance.
WHAM*
For the first time, Peter was hit. He was teased before, mocked for sure. That only occurred once in a while, far and between, usually just an offshoot comment from a student in class.
Flash's punch knocked the glasses off his head, and Peter's vision was blurry. Eyes wide and teary, explanations, words, all were torn from his mind. His focus, completely fixed on the tall boy before him.
"You think you're hot shit all of a sudden?"
"N-no I-"
In spite of what movies and television would tell you, not every student and teacher is some uncaring person. A student not known by name to either boy watched the altercation begin, and immediately searched for a teacher. Said teacher came upon Flash standing over Peter, his voice booming.
"Eugene Thompson! Just what the hell are you doing to that boy!?"
The principal's office was practically adjacent to the nurse's office. The nurse in question asked Peter questions as gently as she could while tending to the noticeable bruise on his face. Once he was tended to, both students were sat in chairs a fair distance apart, facing the principal.
When Ben came to the school, the fury was kept to his eyes, and he kept his composure calm as he listened to the principal relay what happened. He did this standing behind Peter with a comforting hand on his shoulder. Beside them, Flash Thompson sat quietly in his chair as his father stood aside, arms crossed as he listened to the story.
Thompson Sr. had been drinking when the call came, and he kept his distance to not make the breath obvious, even after he had stuffed mints into his mouth before arriving. Fury was in his eyes, but for a completely different reason.
"I think, the best resolution for this is a swift punishment. Eugene will be removed from the baseball team. Other sports will still be an option, and we won't hold this to him over high school, but right now he needs to understand this behavior cannot be rewarded."
"I wholeheartedly agree." Flash's father sounded disturbingly sober, as he turned his head to Ben. "I apologize on behalf of my boy. I hope this settles it."
"I would say so. They are just kids." He wasn't sure if this was the last time. They were boys, and some kids had to just work through the rough patches.
The coach would be furious learning one of his best players was now kicked off because of a stupid spat of jealousy. Worse was he was left with a below average player. He would soon learn he would have two spaces available.
"I don't wanna play baseball anymore." Peter told his uncle in the parking lot, as they walked toward Ben's car.
"Are you sure Pete? You don't have to be afraid-"
"They like Flash, the coach, the whole team... I am not that great, and when they learn Flash was booted off because of me..."
Ben, paused, his hand on the door handle to let Peter in the backseat.
"That wasn't your fault Peter." But they may blame it on you anyway. Ben thought as Peter got into the back seat. He held the door open, deciding to kneel by Peter, who had yet to put on his seatbelt, simply staring absently at his feet.
He put a comforting hand on his nephew's shoulder.
"If you still don't want to, I understand, but... look at me Peter."
Peter looked at his uncle, still teary eyed. Ben squeezed his shoulder gently. "You did nothing wrong. You tried like you wanted, and you made it. No one can take that from you, and I am so proud of you."
He gave Peter a hug, and his nephew, his child, his son hugged him back just as tightly. They parted, and as Ben made his way around to the driver's side, he just missed Thompson senior shove his son roughly into his car. The words spitting from his mouth wouldn't be hard to imagine.
They drove home, and May let him have ice cream for dinner, his favorite. The day ended better than it had started. For the young boy, however, the damage had been done. Peter avoided sports like the plague, and focused on his studies. He preferred it that way, he wasn't really the athletic type.
He had no idea how athletic he would become later in life. Absolutely no idea.
2010
The room was the most privacy they could afford. She was staring herself down in the mirror, psyching herself up for her big appearance. The two piece suit was a bit outlandish, like something Willy Wonka would wear for saint Patrick's day., It did look nice with its dark emerald Coloring and purple accents.
Her first real big appearance, not as a stunt double, but as herself. If this worked, she might have a solid foot in the door again.
Quinn had accomplished much since she had left home, bruised and teary eyed, but dedicated. She went to school in the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, learning about software, and enhancing her knowledge of special effects. She even put in the effort, and got herself a black belt.
Being a stuntwoman was a dangerous career, but apparently trying her chops at acting had been more dangerous. "Too extravagant, too melodramatic." They said, sometimes kindly, but also dismissively. She left, and her friend and fellow stuntman, Daniel Berkhart, followed.
Daniel Berkhart was both a stuntman, and hardware engineer. He provided a missing link, and an extra brain to help sort out the insanity that was Beck's pitches. It was hard to find work when people depended on computer technology instead of hard, tangible practical effects. Together, they had made a film on their own. A film that ultimately, made them broke, draining them of the funds they made off of TV movies.
They needed work to get funds, and Beck didn't wait for handouts. She found an opportunity, in TrackMasters.
TrackMasters was a syndicated show that had been running since the early 2000s. The idea was to go through a course, much like that show from Japan. Much like that show, anyone could enter, at their own risk. Season after season people were entertained by flops, mess ups, cookie characters and the occasional triumph.
Together they breathed new life into the show. Her special effects, a mix of practical and holograms, mixed with Daniel's engineering, were a whole other level from what people had seen, as flashy and elegant as they were difficult to overcome. That was also a problem.
You see, the show was about failing. Sure you could win, and that was impressive, but people tuned in to see men and women alike get knocked off their ass. Still, they needed a chance to win. The showrunners told them to either lower the difficulty or take a hike.
They went hiking.
It made some minor news, enough that it caught the attention of a Businessman in New York, who emailed Beck about an opportunity...
Daniel had finished his routine check up and tweaks to the course already, and he would do so again before it began. At the moment he was taking a moment to check Quinn's equipment, making sure the software was cooperating. Holograms would make it as though she were teleporting from point to point. That feature, among a few others, were controlled by a wrist device, hidden discreetly under her sleeve.
He finished, just as the door opened, and their new business contact strode in with confidence and swagger.
"Miss Beck, Mister Berkhart. Are we ready for the big show?"
When Beck met Maxwell Shiffman, he was dressed like any sleazebag businessman. However, he didn't have that air about him. Maxwell's suit was tidy and clean and his bright attitude seemed genuine. That can be hard to believe, considering that he was a big name in New York's show business, mostly in Television.
"As ready as we will ever be. TrackMasters will rue the day they let us walk." Daniel said confidently. "How did you get the Stadium available in such a short amount of time?"
Shiffman gave them an award winning smile. "I called in a few favors from some friends. Brownstone Media? They actually sent me your way in the first place. Not the most pleasant fellow in charge there. But you are here, not them."
Beck knew Brownstone only because they had warehouses that contained the parts of former obstacle courses for TrackMasters. they had all sorts of leftovers, even the old Title they had for the show, before the soft reboot. She agreed with him on one thing, she didn't like the guy in charge, a bit full of himself. The boys on TrackMasters must have agreed, as she heard rumours of behind the scenes turmoil.
Nothing that was her business, however, not anymore.
"Well everything is set up, all we need now is your 'Star'. He will show right?"
Maxwell only oozed confidence, as he gave them a proud smile.
"No worries my friends, Like myself, he keeps his word. A man of honor, in and out of the ring. If not, I'm a martian, and he isn't 'The Amazing-"
"Spider-Man!" His arms were out wide to greet his old star wrestler. "Good to see you!"
"So, when I asked if you could swing some good publicity my way, I didn't exactly mean for you to publicly call me out to an arena."
It was better at least, that it was for Spider-Man, and not Peter Parker. Peter Parker could barely get through presentations at high school. He was thankful for Gwen's support on that front.
Gwen Stacy came into Peter's life right after the bug bite that changed his life. Her father, George Stacy moved them to New York after her mother died. Stacy was made Police Chief, and began the first manhunt for "Spider-Man".
The chief has since allocated resources to better things. Gwen, however, was looking at schools abroad. London was a big word thrown around. Peter considered telling her...but he couldn't.
Or wouldn't?
Peter didn't really want to do this "promotional event", but he felt backed into a corner, socially at least. Gwen wasn't gonna be here for Peter all the time, and he had to start turning some heads the right ray. His critics already had a head start.
The loudest speaker in New York, and one that had an unhealthy obsession with him, was the Daily Bugle. Why they decided to pick on him, was lost on Peter. Approval rose and fell for the Web-Slinger all the time, but recently, it started to bother him.
The Bugle was unreasonably persistent, and their words were starting to stick to people. It would be nice if, just once, someone could say through a speaker: "It's Spider-Man, that cool dude!"
"It's more of a course. Have you ever watched TrackMasters?"
"No." The bluntness almost made Shiffman trip, but he had the grace of a cat burglar.
"Well, it just recently had a huge revival, and that is because of this Beck fellow. The lady herself is hosting the event."
Spider-Man's head moved up slightly, remembering something faintly. "Actually, I have heard of it. Didn't they fire her for making it too hard?" Not to mention dangerous.
"Yes... but those were normal people, you swing around on strands of webbing...somehow...the point is, you are a match made in heaven. They really raised the bar for this."
He saw the hesitation in Spider-Man, and put a hand on his shoulder in comfort. "It's not like it's a live execution Spidey, in fact, It's actually very simple. You run a course, beat it, be a little flashy when you do it, make the crowd go wild. After, you take some pictures, shake some hands, it will work out. Think about it. Not only are you going to entertain people, they are going to see you are more than some guy who swings around. It's like those old Captain America ads for World War II, or Tony Stark's bodyguard doing those charity events."
"I see your point...but..."
The hesitance was still there. Maxwell put himself in front of the web slinger, placing a hand on each shoulder. He squeezed gently to get the lad's attention. Maxwell's face lost the exaggerated energy, and he gave Spider-Man a genuine smile.
"Listen, I understand why you didn't want to reveal your identity. I can tell you've done a lot of good too, a lot more than you could have done being a mere wrestler. But you never stick around to let people know, that's how schmucks like Jameson walk all over you."
"You read the Bugle?"
"I do, and every time they say something bad about you, it sickens me, because I know you! Come on Spidey, show New York you're not what Jameson spits out on the paper and ink!"
Spider-Man let out a breath, shrugged his shoulders and straightened his posture like the man of steel.
"Alright. Let's do it."
I guess, might as well, what's the worst that could happen?
Bugle special report
Chaotic conundrum at Manhatten stadium!
Yesterday, New Yorkers entered the Manhatten Stadium to be entertained, and they left screaming-
-There was an advanced course set up, not unlike the show TrackMasters. This track however, put every season of that show to shame. The real shame however, is when the track went haywire, and became a massive hazard for the crowds. What was sci-fi entertainment became sci-fi horror-
-Some credit Spider-Man for allegedly helping them. Yet, why were they there in the first place? To see Spider-Man! Pretty convenient isn't it?
When asked for an opinion, Police Chief George Stacy said: "What happened was a disaster, thankfully only a few people were hurt and no one was killed. There is nothing that suggests Spider-Man's involvement was sinister. Until we get more evidence-
-Know this, dear viewers, we will keep an eye on the Menace. We will not falter, until Spider-Man is seen for what he is. One day, the truth will be revealed!
"The truth will be revealed, yeah yeah that's what they all say. Where are the cartoons?"
As the scarred man walked along, paper in hand, the man in charge of the Newspaper Stand shook a fist hollering at him.
"Dammit Wade, get back here! You need to pay for the paper first, now show me the cash!"
2014
Spider-Man wasn't having a good day. Neither was Peter Parker.
On Spider-Man's end was the usual. Crime interrupted his life and whenever there was even a one percent chance he did something wrong or evil the Bugle was on him. Peter had his usual pains as well. Haggling to sell photos of Spider-Man to make ends meet, and trying to finish university. He didn't blame his peers for being frustrated with his tardiness.
However, today was a curse that seemed to affect both sides of the coin. Or were two birds with one stone the more correct analogy?
Peter's other persona had done a wicked number on his social life. His relationship with Harry Osborn was slowly degenerating. The inheritor to the Osborn fortune was losing his mind to drug abuse and paranoia. Norman would have cared, perhaps if he was alive, but he was killed at a presentation several years ago. Harry blamed Octavius, the man who murdered Norman, and Spider-Man, for not saving him.
Worse, was Mary Jane's engagement to John Jameson, astronaut and son of Jonah Jameson, yes that Jonah Jameson, Peter's boss and critic.
To be clear, Peter felt no personal hate towards John. When he did speak to the man, he was nothing but kind to Peter. He even told Jonah to lay off Peter during a casual visit. To Peter's shock, the old fart listened! The man was nothing short of a national treasure, you couldn't hate him.
This made it worse when John asked Mary Jane to marry him, and she said yes. Peter now had to cover John Jameson's space mission, and later(he was sure) the wedding.
Peter and Mary Jane's relationship had been complicated. She wasn't the first woman in his life, but he had not felt so strongly for someone since Gwen Stacy, who went abroad to London for studies.
Today, Peter had felt the strongest urge to destroy his suit. Not just throw it in the trash, burn it. Murder the identity of Spider-Man.
But he couldn't, Too many depended on him, because they had no one else. So he bares it, puts on the suit. Spider-Man swings around New York, as Peter's personal life crumbles around him. Then, he can sit down, and listen to the world badger him about being a menace.
It had been quiet the last hour. maybe he should just land somewhere discreet, change into civilian clothing. Peter makes this resolution, right as he hears the yells of a bystander.
"Help! Martians are robbing the Speedy Mart!"
Fuck.
"Make no sudden movement earthling! I require large amounts of your currency!"
Why was she doing this? She used to work on blockbusters for god's sake. Ok sure, a few blockbusters and then a few shows, TrackMasters... but still!
"Sure space dude, whatever you say, just don't disintegrate me or whatever..."
The Speedy Mart clerk was so high off his noggin, he could only nod. In his defense, earth had several cases of "Visitors" from other planets already. Still, he handled the situation as well as he could.
She escaped her last encounter with Spider-Man by the skin of her teeth, and it cost her greatly. Her base of operations was exposed, her tech, what wasn't destroyed, was taken by police.
She needed finances to get supplies, and right now, she really needed it.
I am not a goddamn martian, at least not this version... doesn't matter! As long as he gets the cash out, and I can make my leave before-
"Oh how low the mighty have fallen."
Oh shit.
But Beck couldn't stop now, Spider-Man learned to be weary of Mysterio's tricks. All Mysterio had at the moment was her voice box. But as long as Spider-Man believed she had a trick up her sleeve, she had a chance to flee.
"You dare to challenge the impotent mind of Mysterio?!" She stood tall, her arms outstretched as she mentally calculated her chance to slip away. The place was small, and if she was quick as her mouth...
She didn't realize how much patience the Spider was lacking at the moment.
"I will destroy you utterly! You will bear witness to the majesty and glory of my power! You have trifled with me for the last time, I will not hold back-"
BAM*.
A single uppercut. Peter let a little more power into it then he usually would, even though he still pulled the punch. He aimed to knock off the helmet anyway, and the glass bowl went flying, as did Mysterio herself.
The air she had sucked in to talk big expelled violently from her when she landed. After a coughing fit, Beck looked up, and saw Spider-Man glaring down at her. She moved backwards, and attempted to regain control. She tried to stand, only succeeding in slipping on her own robes, landing on her ass. Beck was a trained black belt, but none of the training was coming to her mind.
She tried to speak, but Spider-Man was wise to the tricks nowadays. He reached into her collar, and yanked out the tech that gave her voice effects.
Her voice, normally her strongest asset, now was failing to say anything intelligible. Her black belt, while earned fairly, wasn't getting her back on her feat. She was too afraid.
"What, cat got your voice box?" He tossed the broken device aside. "Come on mighty Mysterio, do a magic trick." Spider-Man knocked a bag of chips off the rack beside him. The bag startled Beck, who began shuffling back.
"Oh? Where's the force field fish head? Magic mirrors? Jack in the box? Where is all the bravado now?"
Beck's shuffling increased speed as Spider-Man began haphazardly knocking chips, candy boxes, whatever was in the isle they were in. Beck had moved at increased speed until her back hit the glass door containing ice cream and pizza.
The fire was roaring in Spider-Man's chest, his head aching from anger finally spilling over after so long.
"What's the great twist? Where are your magic tricks? Come on, no more games to ruin my day? How about I show you a trick, it's taken care of my problems before!"
Spider-Man raised his fist, about to give Mysterio what she had been asking for. At that moment, Mysterio curled in on herself. Her hands covering her head, she screamed.
"Don't hurt me!"
Spider-Man paused at the absolute terror in her voice as she shrieked. The situation stopped being ridiculous and irritating.
He looked at the glass that held their reflection, and he saw himself. He saw himself standing over someone that couldn't fight back, like a bully.
Looking back down at her, he saw himself, cowering in fear of Flash and his cronies. And he was Flash, before Flash had become a Spider-Man fanboy. Before he matured and made amends with Peter. Before he joined the army to do his part. That nightmarish version of Flash that plagued a young Peter Parker was in full view, and he was cosplaying in a Spider-Man suit.
The furnace of rage was suddenly put out. Like a downpour of ice water flooded the proverbial furnace, dousing it.
... What the hell am I doing?
Ben would be ashamed of him, he was ashamed of himself. Jameson would have the perfect ammo:
Spider-man, beats his enemies when they are down.
Flash, Flash would have pointed a finger at him, yelling: "You aren't Spider-Man, he isn't an asshole!".
He would be right, this is not who Spider-Man was. What if a kid was here, and saw him act like this? He was a trickster, sure, but this wasn't a harmless joke or prank. This was just...mean. As for Mysterio...if she had the ability to escape, she would have done so already. Whether she could or not, Beck was too petrified to do anything.
Wait a minute, Quinn Beck?
Quinn Beck pretty much fell off the face of the earth after the Stadium fiasco. Mysterio showed up a year later, and they had played a game of cat and mouse ever since. Mysterio had always been able to slip away. Spider-Man had given hi-her, that much credit.
Now, here? It was so strange, so surreal, that their game of cat and mouse ended like this... at Speedy Mart.
But now... Mysterio wasn't so...
He put a hand on her head, and when she froze at his touch, he sighed.
When his hand rested on her head, she froze. Was he going to pull her by her hair? Scalp her with sheer force? Did he just want her head in the right position?
Instead, she heard him sigh. "It's alright Beck. Fights over."
Spider-Man walked up to the counter as Beck slowly got himself up. He spoke to the stunned and high cashier. "Sorry about the mess man, can I get two waters?"
The cashier watched Spider-Man leave with the martian in a daze. He did snap out of it as he finally realized the mess left behind.
"Shit."
Five minutes later, Beck sat on a rooftop. Spider-Man beside her. He had been trying to rack up something to say, some speech, some nice assortment of words. What do you say to someone, that, while being a thorn in your side, wasn't exactly a dagger in your back either.
Mysterio was persistent, but she did nowhere near the physical damage that Scorpion or Rhino could do or have done. Her games were elaborate, they tested him, but she never hurt other people.
If she hurt anything, it was his intellectual pride. She did this by outsmarting him, tricking him and New York's finest. Evading capture constantly, although the last time came close, and this time...
When Spider-Man spoke, he winged it, speaking from his heart.
"This needs to stop." Beck looked at him, and his gaze was on her. "Beck...you are beyond this... no I really mean it. You have skills, but you are wasting them. You could make money faster than you could steal it."
He looked down at his hands, slightly mesmerized by the web pattern he had made so long ago.
"I do this because my powers gave me responsibility. I feel like I say that so often it makes my head hurt. But that doesn't make it less true. You can help, in a completely different way. You have talents that I don't."
"What am I supposed to do?" She sounded so meek, so unlike the boisterous prideful Mysterio he knew. "Go back to show business?"
"Yes, start out small, make your way back up. Here." He gave her a card, a business card. "Murdock is a good man, and he helps people back on the right path, if they want it."
He stood up, standing tall like the icons he had looked up to in his youth, even if it was just pretend.
"I believe you can do anything you put your mind to Beck."
He backflipped off the building, before shooting a web mid-fall, swinging up and around the corner.
Perhaps it was a mistake to let her be, but he had to keep his word. If Mysterio pulled this crap again, he'll just send her to jail. That simple.
But never how you handled it in the Speedy Mart. Never again.
The worst day of his rough patch, would be the turning point, even if not everything went his way. Mysterio did not return(Even if the possibility kept him up some nights), and the very next day after his Speedy Mart encounter, he learned that Gwen Stacy had returned to New York. She called Peter herself. Happiness would find its way back to Peter Parker's life.
Even if it didn't last.
"I am..."
Quinn Beck was at her old house, she hadn't been there in years. She hadn't even told Mags she was in town yet, she had something to take care of.
She was staring at herself in the mirror, dressed as the great Mysterio. This was a routine she often performed before she went out and played her favorite role. Looking at her reflection, she would say "I am the great Mysterio!"
Yet, she hadn't. It had been months since that incident at the Speedy Mart.
Come on Beck, work the magic, just say the words!
"I am..." She stopped again.
There were plans, plans for revenge. Well, the plans were already there, she knew the moment she called Daniel he would say yes. But the great Mysterio was financially troubled at the time. Now? Now she couldn't even pretend In the mirror.
She breathed in deep, and tried to put on a brave face. "I am-"
Behind her, on her right, was a figure. It was her father, the same height, yet somehow towering over her like she was still a child.
"It's nothing but daydreaming fantasy, get yourself a real job Quinnie, this is what losers do. Dress up, and play pretend."
That wasn't all there was. Her father was a loser, just as much if not more. She tried to shake it off, and tried to speak again.
"I-"
He appeared on her other side. Red and Blue, white lenses that seemed angry, with a stare that was mocking.
"Come on Beck, go on. You know I am waiting for it. It's all pretend anyway, none of it's real. No powers, no magic, just a bag of tricks. You know who is going to win, who always wins."
"I-" It came out so quiet, and then Quinn ripped off the Fishbowl shaped helmet, and whipped it into the mirror.
CRACK*
It hit the edge, sending spider cracks across the mirror's entire frame. Only luck kept the pieces from falling out into the floor. Her helmet, designed to take a beating, rolled absently without a scratch.
Beck fell to her knees, and sobbed.
2017
"Adjust the angle there, that was close, just pull it back a bit. There we go, hold it there." Beck ordered, her grimace a steep contrast to her words.
DING*
"That's a wrap" Thank god "Good job everyone, good job." At least the scene was done. The girls got up and moved to a more private area to clean up the mess on their faces and chest. She stopped one of the male performers, calling him over, his stage name was Ryan.
"I noticed Karen was a bit off. Is she using, again?" The man looked her in the eye, hesitant, but then he made a concerned nod. "Okay, I'll let the right people know. Thanks Ryan."
Beck sat on her directing chair and sighed.
Work your way back up. That was what the Spider said. The card he had given her belonged to Matt Murdock. The son of a bitch was blind, and sometimes, his clients found themselves exposed by the "Devil of Hell's Kitchen". It only took her four months and finally...giving up that part of her life to actually give him a shot.
To her surprise, he actually helped her dodge jail time. No visit from Satan either, or the Devil. Beck guessed that she should be at least happy she was employed. That she was working on films again... even if it was...
Pornography.
Quinn Beck got a solid second chance, directing for the media. That in itself wasn't bad, the people were nice. Her crew listened to her, and didn't second guess her often.
What was grinding her gears, slowly frying her brain, was the lack of creative freedom. To clarify, imagine making a film about the same subject, over, and over, and over. No matter what ideas you would have, it all led to one thing, the bottom line. That bottom line was S-E-X.
She had exhausted herself trying to make the films stand out, even if her real name was not on the final product. Different angles, creative shots, none of it mattered. It was just pornography.
Don't be a bitch, you are doing what you love, and you are not the one on your hands and knees.
It was true, that she got to be behind the camera, away from the "money shots". Quinn shivered a tad. She didn't ever want to be involved in porn, but she also remembered that the legend known as Wes Craven got his start in porn, at least to put food on the table.
What was not true, was that she was doing what she loved. She loved experimental films, not toys. She liked unique plots, not unique positions.
Against her usual habit of staying longer than others, Beck chose to leave immediately after everyone else did. She had no plans to stay for further editing, they already had what they wanted.
She noticed an unfamiliar car as the others drove away. Leaning against it was a very familiar face.
John Jonah Jameson, mortal enemy of the spider man. Well, until his real mortal enemies showed up, not her, the other guys. Kraven or Scorpion or something.
While others had given her names in the media, Jameson was the first to print her actual name, Mysterio. Others did not listen, calling her Fishbowl Head or Doctor Dome. One called her the servant of Mysterio, seriously were any of them paying attention during her big appearance?
Jameson did, and for someone who paid so much attention to detail, he seemed to have the wrong idea about the web slinger.
"So, this is where you ended up. Doing Pornography south of the Bronx."
She resisted the urge to curl her lips and growl at him, holding back a verbal volley for his choice of words. "I direct the scenes, I am not that kind of actor. What do you want Jameson?"
Jameson dropped his cigarette to the pavement before stepping on it. "I want to hire you, let's talk at the Diner up the road."
Fifteen minutes, two glasses of water, and one overdone explanation later, Beck believed she knew what he wanted. She just couldn't believe it.
"You want me, a former supervillain, to make a film based on Spider-Man?"
"A documentary, an expose on that menace. Look, say what you will about yourself. But would you really be filming pornos had Spider-Man not entered your life? What about Mac Gargan? What about that poor girl Gwen Stacy? And-
Gargan is your fault, why else does he keep coming after you? Gwen Stacy, I haven't heard that name in years.
Jameson was still talking, but Quinn's mind went back to Spider-man talking to her on that rooftop. She thought about how he told her she had so much potential, that she could do better. Then, her thoughts went to the scene before that...when he had humiliated her for the last time. The last time.
She couldn't stop herself from reliving every humiliation, every loss, at his hand. Starting from the stadium that their "rivalry" had begun, and her career change as Mysterio, before they circled all the way around that last insult of her pride, cowering in the back of a Speedy Mart.
Her mind skipped over the "nice talk" she had with the spider after. Instead, Memory Lane went straight to her behind a camera, filming a girl getting pounded by a muscular man, several behind him in a row, dressed in superhero getup. The child version of Quinn Beck echoed in her mind.
I'm not just going to be a director, I am going to be the best storyteller of this generation!
Little Quinn's voice was the last straw for her. She made her decision, just as Jameson seems to finish a glorious speech.
"That masked Menace needs to be exposed. Are you really gonna say no?"
Spoiler alert: She said yes.
Beck wasn't sure how to approach this. When she worked on indie films at college she often grabbed the people she wanted herself. Hands on you could say. At the moment, she only had to write the fucking thing. Past experience and Hollywood's history of failures taught her one thing: rushing and winging it led to disaster more often than not.
Jameson gave her permission to approach the staff at the daily bugle for "research". The bugle had a sordid history with the spider, and while the bugle as an entity could not and would not dare publicly put their support forward, individuals were a different case.
Jameson obviously gave her more than a couple of pages. After the first five she only pretended to write as he started moving in circles, repeating and rehashing how that Spider-Man was a menace. She thanked the spirits of James Dean, Bill Paxton, and Leonard Nemoy when he finally sprung her.
He clearly expected his "team" to throw the spider under the bus, but it was more complicated than that.
Robbie Robertson only said good things about Spider-Man. He posed the greatest threat to Jameson's narrative, believing many of Spider-Man's involvement in "terrible events" to be misunderstood.
"Understand this Beck, there are massive gaps in evidence that actually place responsibility on Spider-Man." Robbie said. "Jonah can redirect and reflect all he wants, it doesn't change facts."
Why in the world do you still work with him?
"Anything about the Spider you can tell me, that is actually bad?" Quinn asked.
Robertson looked at Beck and smiled.
"No comment."
Quinn worked her way down, although it took a while to get to the receptionist of all people. Jonah said of all the people of the Bugle, she understood him...whatever that meant. Being the only Bugle employee she had to make a house call for, Quinn hoped it was worth it.
Of course, the first time she wasn't home, so Beck had to make due with another option.
"Quinn Beck! How the heck are ya!" Maxwell Shiffman was painfully the same as he was years before, maybe with an extra grey hair or two. Still, of all the people she had burned bridges with, Shiffman seemed to either have forgiven her or forgotten completely about the Stadium incident, among other things.
"I'm doing fine Shiffman-"
"Please Quinn, it's Max, no need to be so formal!" Another thing about him that was irritating yet comforting. He had that friendly personality that was genuine, because he was and is genuine. "So, You wanted to talk to me about Spider-Man? Go ahead, record, I'll give you all the details."
And Maxwell Shiffman did, at least when it came to Spider-Man. The bad news was that all he was saying were good things. Quinn had believed that Shiffman would at least be upset with Spider-Man, but not even the Wall-Crawler's bad luck could infect Maxwell.
"-And you know he had that whole thing with that black suit, but to be honest, I don't think that was even Spider-Man. Do you know how many people dress up like him? And how many super acrobat types are around the city? It wouldn't shock me if some guy like that Kraven fellow-"
"Maxwell I hate interrupt, but while you clearly care about him a lot, has he really never done anything that's bothered you?" She knew what Jameson wanted and had to get to the point.
"Oh? Well of course!" Finally! Something Quinn could use- "He left showbiz!"
If Jameson heard Shiffman's interview, he would say it was a bust. Still, she acted the professional, gave him a contact number and the place she was staying, just in case he had remembered any more enlightening details. After the almost PTSD inducing but lovable personality of Maxwell Shiffman, Quinn REALLY hoped her next interview was home this time. She ought to throttle Jameson if it turned out she was in fact working today.
Betty Brant was about to slam the door on Beck, but stopped as Beck, used to having to push hard for pitches in Hollywood, quickly explained her cause, ignoring the pain of using her foot as a doorstop. Betty let her in and sat opposite of her in a love seat. She was quiet, before picking up a framed picture of her and a man, Quinn supposed it was her husband, on their wedding day.
Betty Brant seemed to blame Spider-Man for a multitude of things. However, much like Robertson had pointed out, it was complicated. Spider-Man didn't tell her brother to get into gang violence, and he didn't get her husband killed. They made choices, and Spider-Man may have failed to save them, but was it really his fault?
Betty seemed to read Beck's mind. "I'm sure you think I am biased. That's fair. There is one person you can talk to, who might be able to give you a definitive answer. One person I can think of who Spider-Man has screwed over."
Beck felt the odd need to swallow, as she knocked on the rustic door of a relatively cheap looking apartment. She couldn't judge, she lived similarly trying to follow her dreams.
The door rattled as it seemed to resist movement, before finally popping open and-
Oh. My. God.
Peter Parker had lounge pants and a worn warcraft t-shirt, horde faction. The shirt hugged his frame impressively, and his arms were clearly slim and muscular. Peter Parker was a nerd like her.
Except he was hot.
"Hi uh, please don't shut the door on me. I just want to speak with you for a few minutes."
Peter's expression was unreadable, making her nerves flare. Then he said: "Sure, come in."
Quinn walked into the apartment with deliberate caution. Peters apartment was as you would expect. Everything screamed "tight budget", yet it was homely...
Home...she hadn't thought of home in a while.
"Coffee?" He asked.
"Um, maybe not. I don't know if I will stay long." Why was she so nervous? The others made her nervous for sure, but she was able to pretend to be calm.
"Well, have a seat, what do you want to talk about?"
"Mr. Parker, I was hoping to ask you some questions regarding Spider-Man." His smile became smaller, and it made her feel bad.
"Okay, mind if I ask why?"
"Well, I-I... can you please keep a secret?"
"Sure." Peter said as he turned around to get the coffee ready. Outwardly calm, he anticipated some form of attack, he had to. Yet, he had faith...wanted to have faith in Beck.
However, the one that was known to many as Mysterio, had many tricks up her sleeve. One of which was a gas that messed with his Spider sense, often allowing her escape. Then there were Holograms, that also messed with him, until he was able to train himself to focus.
"I have been hired to make a film based on Spider-Man." Beck finally leaked the secret.
Peter paused for the longest second. He wasn't expecting that...not at all. Still, better than some surprise attack.
"Really?" Peter asked, his back still to her.
"Mr. Parker please don't tell Spider-Man." She was nervous, but he shrugged as he turned around to face her.
"Sure, but what do you think I could add to your...movie."
"In layman's terms." She worked up the courage to look him in the eye. "How much has Spider-Man fucked up your life?"
She expected him to be defensive, ask her to leave, maybe even throw her out. It wouldn't be the first time.
Peter was looking at her neutrally, thoughtfully. For her, that meant he was either taking it well, or he was ready to explode any second. "Well, that is one way to put it."
"It's what my employer wants-"
"Jameson?" His immediate inquiry made Beck slouch in her seat.
"Fuck. It's obvious isn't it?" How could it not be? Most news outlets didn't bother with smearing Spider-Man as much as the Bugle, and most employees there didn't care for it, except one.
BEEP*
Coffee was ready.
"How about I get you that coffee? We can talk." She nodded, and he opened a cabinet to grab a clean cup. Then, she had a sudden realization.
"I don't want to burn my good will with you, but, do you mind if I record this, just for review later?"
Peter could have said no, but he wasn't planning on revealing his identity. Matter of fact, he actually had quite a bit to say. worse outcome, people think he wants little to do with Spider-Man, identity secured.
"Sure go ahead."
Or maybe at this point, he just hated himself that much. Hearing the click as she turned it on, Peter turned to see it out in the open, between the both of them. She didn't hold it out like a hungry reporter, but simply had it set on the table, within reach.
"Anytime you decide you want to stop the recording, hit the red button." Quinn said, hoping to keep the goodwill of what might be her best source. Peter nodded as he brought the coffeepot over.
As Peter poured, he asked: "So, how much has Spider-Man fucked up my life?"
She winced a tad. "Well, yeah."
"Plenty."
She wasn't expecting that.
"W-what?"
"I said plenty, do you want sugar?" Beck shook her head. "He screwed up my schedule, I was always late for classes. Almost flunked university. I have lost relationships that I fear I will never recover. Some... I am not even sure I want to."
"Do you... want to start from the beginning?" She asks him, as he sets the cups down. He maintains eye contact.
"You understand I won't tell you everything. He has trust in me, and I can't break that trust."
"Yes, just.. wherever you want to start." She couldn't believe that he was talking to her. She was so sure that Jameson being behind it would have soured any chance of talking entirely.
"I met Spiderman early in his career. He was trying to become a wrestler in the entertainment business, and I was still in High-school. I had an eye for photography, and was short on cash. He knew people wanted photos of him, so he offered me the chance."
"Why?"
"Because I was young, he knew I needed cash so he figured it would help ease the burden. My aunt, she was working when she should have retired, but Ben's passing..." He paused, closing his eyes for a moment, before resuming. "Anyways, he and I built a simple relationship, but one built on trust..."
Peter continued from that point, filling Beck in on the last nine to ten years of Spider-Man from his point of view. He pointed out truths, lies, and those he honestly didn't know about himself. For one hour and thirty five minutes, Peter gave her the biggest dump of information. He didn't hesitate to talk about the hard parts either, Spencer Smythe, the Osborn's, Gwen Stacy...
By the end of it Quinn's writing hand was sore. Her recorder could continue for another hour or so, but she was exhausted in more than one way. She looked at Peter, one question on her mind.
"Why tell me this now, why say anything about it?" That question was as much for her as it was for the film. Peter, honest to God, just shrugged at her.
"I got nothing to lose, I stopped selling to the Bugle after one defamed issue too many. I was moving on to bigger things, so I stopped taking pictures of Spider-Man."
"Do you...do you blame him for Gwen Stacy?"
Peter was quiet for a moment, Beck feared she had gone too far, then:
"Sometimes, but sometimes I remember that while he failed to catch her, he didn't throw her off the bridge. He didn't bring her up there. There is almost always more than one person at fault...And... The Green-no I'm sorry, I can't call him that. Harry had a choice, he made it, but I don't think he was right in his mind either. Now he's getting treatment at Ravencroft indefinitely." He paused, and then added. "In spite of what he's done, I'd do almost anything to have my friend back."
It was quiet for a moment, and Beck thought he was done talking. She saw the look on his face, and told him: "I'm sorry." She paused. "It's, astonishing, how much your lives have intertwined, and how much Spider-Man seems to affect your life."
"My gift, My curse." He gave her a dopey smile. "I was his photographer, after all."
She was about to press the red button, end the recording, but Peter derailed her with a question of his own.
"What about you? How have you been? I mean, you don't do bad guy stuff anymore right?" It wasn't horrible, or something sleek, with an underlying intention. He was just asking about her, and that's what took her off guard.
Beck didn't expect him to ask her about herself, and felt the lonely girl inside of her explode with warmth.
The scene of Peter and Beck at the kitchen table was so relaxed, one had to wonder how they got to that point. Let alone Beck, who had been wound up from the first minute, was able to talk without her nerves interfering.
"So I did end up working on a few...religious movies for the church. Nice people, a little boring, I just couldn't stand the preaching. Of course I found myself working in..." She whispered the last part, embarrassed.
"In, what?"
"Porn. NOT acting." She quickly clarified, her hand waving in front of her. "I filmed, directed, and produced. No point in writing, though I tell you I could have made it much better, if I cared that much."
"Sounds like you get to do what you love."
"Kind of, I get to use my skills, but 'Space Hentacle 3D' is not exactly my kind of movie to brag about."
"You miss it don't you?"
"What? You Mean Cinema or...or Mysterio?" She paused, and then answered: "Both, I mean...I don't necessarily miss Hollywood itself, nor do I fantasize about villainy in a fishbowl helmet. Mysterio was more or less my creation, an extension of-" My ego. "I guess...I just miss the attention, I miss people acknowledging...me."
Peter smiled, his expression full of warmth. "I think you give yourself too little credit. You made Mysterio, and you made amazing tech for being a simple special effects artist."
She felt her cheeks burning, and knew she had to get going, les she embarrassed herself. "I should go, get work done but um..I can probably shoot you a copy of the treatment, when it's pretty much done?"
"I wouldn't mind at all."
When Peter had opened the door, the last thing he was expecting was Quintin Beck on his doorstep.
Her pea green jacket made him think of unpleasant things for a moment (He had begun associating green and purple with bad things in his life.). Her hair was done behind her head, and thick glasses made her eyes really pop. She seemed so meek and small that it was adorable. Peter realized that Beck was a nerd like him.
Except, she was cute. Cute.
The interview could have gone in twenty different directions, and Peter had mentally prepared himself for the worse.
Instead, they exchanged numbers, Like they were friends. Friends.
There were so many times Peter had wandered to himself: What if I don't make a snappy joke? What if I try to offer my help? Instead of repeating the same dance?
Of course that implied everyone he fought wanted help. Harry... he had come so close to killing him that night. If they hadn't been best friends, if Harry hadn't been so clearly Ill in the head...
But Beck, Beck had given up on her own terms. Yes he had talked to her, but he had expected her to bounce back sooner than later...but she didn't. Instead, she genuinely tried-and is currently still trying-to make amends.
Peter hoped that his tracker, quietly put on her as she left, would go unnoticed. He brushed his teeth and went to bed, hopefully entering a dreamless sleep, and not a colorful collage of past failures.
2 weeks later
Broadway was overrated.
At least, that is what Sullivan Edwards thought as he brought his fourth wife along on his arm. Of course he was a New York native, and had been able to afford to go to Broadway often for most of his life. Many across the United States, and around the world would save up for years for one trip, just to see one show, if possible. For him, it was part of a bi-weekly routine of plans that he could just as quickly cancel. He had seen so many that they had become as relevant as a high school play, that didn't even feature his blood as one of the performers. Of course his first had already graduated, a mute point.
"Here is your Ticket sir, thank you."
Nodding politely, he did not make an effort to do more as he pulled his wife along.
He was the type that didn't know the meaning of no. His life was one of reservations, platinum credit cards, and women (or the occasional man) that followed the money trail he left.
He saw a few faces he could recognize. An executive from Oscorp, a few shareholders for the news, a couple of studio heads. He thought he saw Garrison Klum, but he saw a lot of people here. He walked absently by posters of previous releases, barely lending an interesting eye to the frames. They had a poster for today's show right by the main entry door, and he scoffed.
Mary Jane Watson, people called her a great performer, but in his opinion, she was quite overrated. Never had he seen her performance really differ, or stand out. In his opinion, it was her marriage to John Jameson the astronaut that kept her in the spotlight.
"Have a cough Sully?" Only one man had the balls to call someone of his position that. He turned to see Maxwell Shiffman, his ticket in hand.
Maxwell was a living paradox. He dressed like a shady businessman with an above average hygiene routine. That usually told you how successful they were at scamming others. Shiffman was the real deal, he didn't lie, and that's why he never got into the big leagues, but it's also why he never ended up at the bottom of the Hudson.
You wouldn't believe the two had gone to school together, and it led to an equally paradoxical friendship.
"Oh Maxwell, what brings you?"
"My wife loved this show, it's our anniversary." He had a sad but fond smile on his face, and Sullivan had better class, than to bring more negativity to the usually cheerful business man.
"Ah, that's right, perhaps after this show, we can grab a drink, Maxwell. I'm interested to hear what you've been up to."
His wife wouldn't care, she usually didn't care what they did. She was downing a glass of wine she had picked off the plate of a passing waiter.
Maxwell gave a genuine smile. "Absolutely."
They took their spot in the high place, a great spot to oversee much of the show. Unless you didn't care, you just liked the privacy to grumble about how shitty the performance was, or get blown by your current wife, or other lady. His thoughts were still plagued by his definition of a "mediocre" actress.
He must have been truly disinterested if he was thinking about it this much. It wasn't even the source of his dour mood. These plays were just...boring!
People of his social class liked to pretend this was some exclusive entertainment just for them. Here was a question, who cared about a stage when a red and blue clad hero performed impossible acrobatic feats, engaging a monstrous tank of a man shaped like a rhino, or a scorpion, or maybe a flying birdman in public? And all of that, for free?
Yes, yes the classics had their place. But Jesus, they have done nothing to improve the actual quality of the shows they display. Why not something exciting?!
Fifteen minutes into the show, and he was already nodding off. His current wife was on her phone, most likely texting(or sexting) her current boy toy. No, don't be upset, he doesn't care. If he cared, he would have tried to convince his first or second wife to stay-
BOOM!!
A loud blast erupted from the center of the stage. The actors and actresses were blown off their feet and onto the crowd. Purple smoke engulfed the stage and leaked slowly into the crowded area. Many froze at the sight of the tall cloaked figure with the glass bowl shaped, fog filled head.
"Upper class of New York! I, Mysterio, have RETURNED."
The once very bored gentlemen suddenly had a massive interest. He stayed even as his wife pulled on his arm for them to leave, and the people below started to inch towards the exits.
"Have you missed me? I have missed you. I miss you all bowing before me, laying at my feet."
A brave man stood from the crowd. Sullivan did not know the man's name, nor would he know that this man ran afoul of Mysterio once before several years ago. He spoke loudly to everyone in the room.
"Enough, it's just Mysterio everybody, smoke and mirrors-"
Mysterio raised his hand, and the man who spoke up stopped, as he was lifted into the air. He was lifted up into the air, until he was parallel to Mysterio. With Mysterio's other hand he snapped his fingers, and the shadowy mass behind Mysterio rose on its legs. Two glowing green orbs came around, the smoke dissipating to reveal a sabertooth tiger, fur colored purple like plums, eyes that glowed like emeralds.
"I assure you, I am more than just smoke and mirrors, but you all need convincing...those on the balcony, stay where you are. Enjoy the show."
The beast leapt from the stage, dark smoke trailing it as it lunged on the floating man. They fell down with a crash, the man barely had time to breathe, before he was screaming. The big cat had bitten into him, with a rip, blood flecked onto those closest, who began screaming and shoving back to get away.
The man had screamed for only a few seconds, he was already dead. The beast raised its head, and growled at the escaping audience. Sullivan felt the tug of his latest wife cease as she finally left him to flee. It was no matter, he watched the beast and its Master with increased fascination.
Suddenly, things were very interesting.
Peter saw it on the news while he was on his own lunch break.
He wasn't quite sure what to think as he watched the Broadway show get crashed by Mysterio. When the tiger leapt upon the man, Peter was already up and moving to the exit.
A quick check on the updating news told him that the cast and crew were able to run unscathed. That meant MJ was fine, so he had to focus. That wasn't too hard to do nowadays.
Peter hoped his tracker stayed on Beck's coat, he web-swinged toward her position. He didn't want it to be her, but who else? Who else had the know-how? Who else was willing to wear that ridiculous get up? Okay, he's being a bit of a hypocrite there, but still!
In his heart, he felt it wasn't her. He may not have been the greatest detective in the world, but whoever Mysterio was on TV, they did not correlate with the woman he had spent several hours talking to in his own apartment. She genuinely seemed to be trying to turn a new leaf. Sure, she was making a hit piece on his alter ego, but it wouldn't be the first time someone in Peter Parker's life went after his other half.
That was the other thing, she was in the middle of trying to get a movie going on him. She was busy enough as it is. Old Beck would have breathed confidence, the Beck that interviewed him was just... different. With everything he knew, an attack on Broadway just seemed... random.
Peter was getting close to her position, the tracker leading him to a low rent apartment. Hopefully he could get answers.
While the Spider was heading to Beck's home, his quarry was currently a few blocks down.
Quintin Beck was rummaging through a Speedy Mart near her hotel. It was not the same speedy mart that veered her destiny off course, but one couldn't be blamed for thinking so. It had the exact same layout, down to the placement of snacks, drinks, and cigarettes. The employee had the same dazed(maybe high) look about him.
She avoided eye contact, having needed to work up the courage to enter a speedy mart again. She tried not to look down at the snack isle and relive her scare by accident. God help her if she had still been operating when he got that black suit... the thought of it sent shivers down her spine, and she hadn't even seen what it could really do.
Of course, She didn't need to look for info on that subject, it was the self-titled black ink on Spider-Man's resume. Its mentions were glossed over, Avengers that were asked about it changed the subject or flat out refused to comment.
That brought Quinn to her next thought, her "hit piece" on Spider-Man, wasn't going how she thought it would. She didn't want to be dishonest, how ironic, but what she ended up with wasn't fixated on ruining the Spider, instead what she ended up with was a complicated web of contradictions. He was seen in both positive and negative lights, but his presence also seemed to be more a reaction, than being the center point Jameson insisted he was.
But Jameson wanted to smear the Spider, not make him sympathetic. Beck was at a loss for how to move forward. She was stuck so long she got hungry, and decided braving a trip through possible trauma was worth the body fuel.
Then, there was Peter Parker. Quinn had listened to her interview with him, replaying it a couple of times. The first time, she was shocked to find that she had recorded their casual talk after, by complete accident. That started an almost unhealthy fixation. She loved listening to the part where he asked her: "What about you? How have you been?"
She replayed it several times, and it gave her a sort of satisfaction. The recording of their talk was listened to far more often than the actual "interview" itself, though Beck would loathe to admit it to even herself. If Peter Parker could tolerate her, maybe she had a decent shot at life after all. Maybe, this project, regardless of how it turned out, was her finally stepping upward. More people may become friendly with her, but did she want anyone to? Or did she just want Peter to...to...
Her stuttering thoughts were trampled by the thirty-two inch flat-screen in the upper corner by the register, A strange but necessary investment made by the city with the help of Stark industries. The TV's were often set to the news, but would automatically switch to an alarm in case of alien invasion, or terrorist attack.
What got her wasn't the news, a supervillain on the prowl, far too common. The problem was the giant fishbowl head get up she herself had designed. Someone was playing mysterio, and right now, as the news censored it, they had killed at least one man with a giant purple tiger. The fucking thing looked straight out of classic barbarian fantasy!
But the problem is that she is Mysterio! She was Mysterio, but people probably didn't know that. It quickly clicked in her head like a loaded gun at her temple.
Oh god, Spider-Man must have seen this already... Oh shit, he probably thinks I am back at it! Oh, oh FUCK-
"Man that's weird, have you-" The clerk turned to see the woman gone, her snacks forgotten and abandoned.
BAM!*
Beck, after a frantic run, threw open her apartment door, charging straight to her closet. She ripped it open, tossing clothes into a bag. She wasn't sure what exactly she planned to do, but she believed she could read the room. Police were probably looking for her already, and while Beck did have an alibi, she doubted they would listen.
Fuck this. I didn't do anything
Quinn paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. Her mind was just a little more clear, as she went to a drawer and pulled it open. Inside was a (good) fake ID, a backup plan she made with the paid help of an old friend. The tinkerer had more than a few extra skills. If S.H.I.E.L.D. was looking, she was already fucked, but if she was considered low risk...
I have to get out of here, I'll go to Canada, maybe Australia. I just have to get the fuck out of New York, before he gets here, and kicks the shit out of me-
She had another brief pause as she realized her bridge to Peter Parker was burning before it could even finish construction. That made her teary eyed, and she hated herself for it.
You met the guy once, he made you warm inside, fine. Just stop...fixating on it...
She grabbed her bag, zipping it up and carrying it out of her room. She realized then, to her horror, that she wasn't alone. She screamed.
Quinn Beck, in her rush, had not noticed her guest sitting on the couch calmly.
Spider-Man had entered through the window, because of course he did. Beck had left her coat, and so he decided to wait for her. Beck had strode by him without even looking, and he resisted the need to chuckle.
As she strode out of her bedroom, bag in hand. He greeted her with a "Hey Beck."
She screamed, throwing her bag in reflex and covering her head like the atom bomb was going to blow. The sudden reaction made his head tilt in confusion, as her bag smacked against the wall, before landing beside him, completely missing him.
The effect I have on women
He stood up and stretched, trying to play it off as a casual visit. He meant to make a snappy icebreaker, but paused as he took in the young woman who had leapt back to her bedroom, sitting on the floor right in front of the mattress.
Peter's amusement disappeared as he saw the way she had curled around herself. Guilt creeped into him, and he gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Sorry Beck, I didn't mean to startle you."
Quinn looked up at him, and slowly stood. Then a vomit of questions followed her, first at normal speed, then at one-point-five speed, then double.
"How did you find me? How long have you been here? Have you been following me? Watching me?! You can't arrest me! I haven't done anything-"
Spider-Man pinched her lips shut gently. He was calm but stern. "Chill out for a minute. I am just here to talk. How about some fresh air?"
Beck took the stairs, promising not to try to run. She took her coat, as it was a bit chillier on the roof, but they would have more privacy than the thin walls of the apartment.
She had her arms crossed around her chest as she walked toward him. She stopped five feet away from him, and the edge he crouched over.
She resisted the urge to think about how cool his unintentional pose was, or how the sun peaking through the clouds hit him just right. They weren't sexual, but cinematic shots that she was thinking of. Of course, with her current line of work, the thoughts trailed.
"So Mysterio-"
"That wasn't me! I stopped, remember? I swear to god, I haven't been Mysterio since...Speedy Mart."
"Beck, I-" Believe you, but I can't just let you off on faith alone. "-want to believe you, I really do. So help me out, I don't know how much Jameson will vouch for you with your little film project still in the infant stage. He's real quick to deny any sort of partnership."
Beck looked at him, both in shock, and a mix of anger, and fear.
"How did you- did Peter tell you?"
"Peter didn't have to tell me anything." It was the truth. "You talked to half the people in the bugle, you think not one of them would talk to me, or give a heads up?"
She looked away from him finding the flock of birds passing by a little more interesting. With her arms crossed, she came off a tad haughty.
"Yeah, Jameson wanted me to make a piece about you. Considering you do jack shit when he smears you, maybe you believe it a little yourself. A lot came to your defense, though, more than Jameson would believe I'm sure. A few did have some unkind words for you."
Spider-Man got off the ledge, taking a deep breath as he stood.
"Look Beck, I'm not here to judge you for your choice of employers, but I am being pretty considerate. Especially because the police are looking for you right now, and I'm trying to help. Meanwhile, you are making a hit piece on me for no reason-"
Peter had impressive acting skills. It kept the identity of Spider-Man as far from Peter Parker as possible... to a degree. Sometimes however, he did too well. He didn't expect the color to return to Beck's face so quickly, nor for his words to cause such an immediate and aggressive reaction.
"No reason? No REASON!?" Beck exploded, and for the first time in a long time, her rage fueled her body righteously. She felt herself grow as large as the holograms she used to make. "You think all the negative feelings went away just because you spared me?" She looked at him, her eyes filled with anguish, her tongue wet with venom. "Do you know how hard it was to try to get work after giving up? My plea deal kept me out of jail, it didn't pay the bills. I had to work on religious tv movies. Do you know how insufferable those people can be? And porn! My name is on PORN! I worked in Hollywood, god-dammit!" Her feet stomped in sync with her last words, before sucking in a breath. "But that was after, and that wasn't even the worst part."
She pointed at him, her eyes narrowed.
"You humiliated me, time and time again. I am the joke of your rogues, was, now I don't even get that. Do you give yourself a pat on the back? For stopping the great Mysterio? Because you ended the great tyranny of smoke and mirrors?! Too bad you couldn't have stopped the Goblin, Any of them, before they left a trail of bodies in their wake. Does Ned Leeds mean anything to you? What about Betty Leeds? What about the Stacy family? What about Peter Parker?! "
Her voice cracked halfway through, but she didn't stop. Her eyes were getting teary, but she was too angry to stop.
"The only reason you stopped with me was because you thought I was pathetic, I wasn't worth anything to you, not even an arrest. And I accepted it, because you know what, you won. You were always better, and I will be nothing, a loser, just like my pa always said."
Beck expected him to finally slug her at some point during her venting. She expected him to even just have left without listening to it all. Why would he? She wasn't worth the time. She turned away from him, hoping to hide what was already known.
Instead, He had stayed, and he had listened to every word. When his arms came around her gently, and she was in his embrace, she was at a loss.
"I'm sorry." He said, and she froze. "I don't know who your father was, but he was wrong, you have everything to offer Beck, and he tried to project his failures onto you. I didn't stop myself because I thought you were pathetic, I stopped because I became no better than the people that bullied me."
The Amazing Spider-Man... was bullied?
"I meant it before, when I said you have gifts. You have so much to offer the world, and I brought you down like someone once brought me down. I didn't want to do that to you, I wanted to lift you up."
Beck couldn't understand, she was awful, a hypocrite spouting half baked nonsense she had already disproven herself. In spite of that, the Spider was being kind.
"You can't control everything, but you can control your effort. And Beck, I believe if you gave one hundred and ten percent, you could do anything...Beck?"
Beck was crying, holding on to his forearm weekly. She wasn't hugging him back, but she was...accepting the hug given?
"Stupid friendly neighborhood Spider."
Spider-Man left shortly, working to spread the word in all possible ways that the new Mysterio was not Beck. It helped that she had willingly given him an alibi, several that were backed up by others later.
This did not exempt her as a suspect, but she wasn't under arrest yet either. They only had so much time however, until Mysterio showed up again.
Quinn Beck did surprise Peter, however, by showing up at his apartment. He opened the door to her wearing incognito sunglasses, in a getup that seemed to give her "secret spy" energy. It was just a dark coat over a grey button up and stretchy slacks.
"Peter, I'm sorry to bother you but...I genuinely need your help. Maybe you saw the news but..."
"That wasn't you." Peter said, like it was a fact.
"You...believe me?" Beck was floored. Not only that, she felt elated that Peter Parker didn't burn bridges with her, because of this damn copycat. All of those thoughts came later, however. Right now, she was still surprised he believed her.
"Yeah, not sure why, guess I just feel it."
"Ok, well I'm... wow, I was expecting you to say anything else. Look, I need to investigate this, someone is masquerading as me, and I need to find out who. The thing is I need someone who can vouch for me. The police may try to apprehend me anyway if Mysterio shows up again, and if they are busy with me, then who knows what Mysterio will do next."
While Beck had been talking, Peter was already grabbing a worm leather jacket, and one of his web shooters. He didn't bother with the whole getup, something told him incognito was better.
"Let's go."
If Beck was telling the truth, he probably wouldn't need his mask. If she was playing him...he'd be ready for it.
It was later that Peter, for the first time in a while, found himself riding in a car instead of web slinging through New York. It was also the first time in a while he had gotten out of the city. Beck was driving, not as worried as she was before.
Beck asked Peter for help, apparently, because she was comfortable with him. He seemed to tolerate her more than anyone else would. Spider-Man, aka himself, had offered to swing her wherever, but she said he couldn't do that where she had to go.
"You're nervous." He stated bluntly
"What gave me away?" She came off more sarcastic than she meant to, and she quickly corrected herself. "Sorry I just... I feel like any second the police are going to grab me before I can even get a chance to prove anything, like my innocence for one."
Peter waved it off.
"You're fine, Spider-Man already notified the right people, you have some time, before they come knocking."
"How do you know that?" She asked with a raised brow.
"I...have Spider-Man's cell." This was also the truth.
The awkward pause was almost deafening. It felt like an hour until Beck finally spoke. It was in reality, five seconds.
"Spider-Man...has a phone number? No what am I thinking, of course he does, who the hell wouldn't." She drove on for a minute, silence overtook the car again. Suddenly, she sighed audibly. "I need to apologize to him."
"What for?"
"I...I sort of lost it, threw some... real personal shit his way, brought up...you... I shouldn't have. He doesn't deserve it, and I don't have any right to stand on any moral high ground."
Peter's faith in her, as well as his doubt that she was behind this, had tripled in strength. Her outburst revealed a passion that she always had, one she had aimed at him before. The difference was it was for other people, and not just herself. She had mentioned his name with extra ferocity, and that told him how genuine she was. Not that he was fixated on that...
"I wouldn't worry about it. He might even argue he does deserve some of it. He's human, and still makes mistakes. It doesn't make everything okay. But he works towards making it right, so are you."
Her grip on the wheel tightened. She seemed to be working out a response in her mouth, but simply said: "Grab that suitcase in front of you, pull out the red folder."
Peter did as she asked, no spider sense, no Ill intent. Holding up the folder, he asked, "What's this?"
"It's...my Spider-Man hit piece. It's going to be a long ride, so I figure...if anyone could give me a good opinion on what I got, it's you. It will help stave off boredom at least."
Peter read quietly. Beck had around sixty pages, and to his shock, it wasn't really a hit piece. There were unflattering parts, sure, but she had kept it honest as she could, with the facts provided.
The opening actually summarized her, stating that she couldn't properly judge herself without some level of bias, instead giving a basic summary and allowing people to make their own judgments. Really that was the whole tale in a nutshell, offering facts, noting inconsistencies and flat out rumors, leaving the viewer ultimately to judge him.
"This is impressive."
"Really? You think so?"
"You kept honest, others might say otherwise, but believe me, this was far more positive than Spidey would ever expect it to be."
She kept her eyes on the road, but she smiled. Her eyes seemed to get a little teary, and her tight grip on the steering wheel relaxed.
For some reason, Peter felt like talking to Beck, like it was just a trip, and not a running timer on Beck's freedom. He felt, no, he knew the perfect subject.
"What was your favorite movie as a kid?"
Her answer was immediate. "Splash."
"Really?"
It was several hours later, day turning to dusk, that they arrived at their destination.
Peter was expecting a warehouse, some kind of bunker or hidden base. He knew some of his rogues still had untapped caches and hidden bases, how else did the Hobgoblin come to be? He certainly wasn't a friend of Norman's, considering how they went at each other upon meeting.
Instead of something cleverly hidden or overly sophisticated, they pulled up to an aging farmhouse. The paint was peeling and the door was probably barely hanging on. He wanted to joke about "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre".
"I've never realized How much it looks like 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre'." Beck said. She had already parked in place, and was standing by her open door, just looking at the house.
Peter let the quiet take over for a minute, before asking: "Who lives here?"
"I did, with my father, then I left to have a career." She shut her door and walked a few steps. She pointed to the far beyond cornfield that stretched endlessly. "He died several years back, he was buried with mom over at the cemetery I believe..."
She moved up the steps of the porch, each one creaking, yet refusing to budge. This entire house, a perfect representation of her father. She stopped short of the door. "I haven't been here in years, the last time he was already dead and buried, my uncle and cousin have been looking after the place, most likely."
Not that they really have been, besides the basic necessities Beck thought. But if I cared, I would have come and taken care of it myself.
"Why did we come here?" Peter asked.
"Because the last time I was here, I buried the identity of Mysterio. It was born here, when I was a child. I brought it here, to die. If someone took my gear, or if any of it's missing, It will answer one question. The only problem after that, would be who?"
Willpower that Beck had not felt since she had left her home years ago, now returned to her as she threw open the rattling door, and walked inside.
The home looked better than it did on the outside, but carried similar problems. Peeling paint, wood that was old and surely rotting. It looked like her family did come in and clean once every full moon, but only then.
Beck paused, looking at something, before moving forward. Peter looked where she had, and saw a mirror with far too many cracks in it, barely covered by cloth.
"Christ, they still have that old recliner?" Beck questioned out loud.
"Don't feel like taking anything back with you?" Peter asked.
"I would rather this place be burned to the ground, build something better over it."
Beck began to push at a couch, and Peter quickly moved to help, revealing the trapdoor underneath. She thanked him, before proceeding to grab the handle screwed into the floor.
The trapdoor opened with a slight puff, not as big as Beck was expecting. She walked down the steps, Peter followed her, reaching the final step as Beck flipped a switch, and old bulbs lit up.
"I can't lie to you beck, this would make one decent set for a horror movie."
"I know, I wish I had recognized that doing my little movies here. Of course dad would have been the stupid asshole he always was. He'd probably lock me down here as a lesson, wouldn't matter if I died or not."
"I think your uncle would have cared, from what you told me about him. He would have found you. Someone would have."
Beck looked at him, and she felt relieved that he couldn't notice her blush, or the look of want in her eyes.
Except that he did.
She went back to her objective, tugging at a lock to a chest that refused to budge. "Come on goddammit-"
"Let me help, we'll get it together." He had put his hands on hers to stop her for a moment, before moving them to a different position. "On three."
On three they pulled, and Peter used his strength to break the chain, making it appear that they did it together. Beck quickly opened up the chest, and removing the top cloth, she saw her reflection in a glass dome. She shuffled through the box wordlessly.
"It's all here, the outfit is, the tech, everything." She pulled out a phone sized tablet, attached to a strap that went around her forearm.
"So whoever Mysterio is, they weren't here?" Peter wondered aloud as Beck attached the device to her wrist. It glowed slightly on activation.
"They definitely weren't, at least down here. I kept track of my shit, the last time this was turned on was in twenty-fourteen." She looked at Peter. "I had a moment, after my last encounter with Spider-Man, that considered going for a grand return, for revenge. I got the gear back together in working order but...I just couldn't do it."
She pulled the old outfit out, shutting the chest and bringing it upstairs in a bundle. Peter followed her, and they ended up sitting in the living room. Quinn activated her wrist device, and suddenly a hologram of her appeared. It stood behind the table the rest of the Mysterio outfit laid upon. The hologram could have been mistaken for the real Beck, it's expression matching the real Beck sitting on the couch perfectly, thoughtful and sad.
"Yep, that confirms it. My little device here kept dates and times of activation-don't look at me like that, I like keeping track of things-the latest activation was just now, the last was in twenty-fourteen."
"So, you bagged it up, brought it here?"
"Yeah, figured that since I hate the place so much, it would motivate me to stay away." Quinn looked around at the old homestead, smiling bitterly. She looked up at the stairway, and walked up. Peter followed her into her old room. He looked around the room for a moment, noting the aging worn plaster, and the posters of the original King Kong, Clash of the Titans, Friday the 13th, Splash...
"Before I left home, my dad was on a binge, he was beating the shit out of me, out front. Uncle had driven by to drop off something I left. Dad didn't realize who it was because of the lights, but Uncle had seen enough. My dad had no front teeth left after that, nor was he conscious till morning. By then I had already bagged the stuff I wanted or needed." She stopped.
"I had always seen my father as God, or king, always lording over me. I realized then, when my father was begging uncle to stop, begging, that I realized he wasn't strong, never was. He was just a man, barely a man, pretending to be strong. He hated me for following my dreams when, for some reason, he gave up on his own."
Peter couldn't bring himself to interrupt her, but when she became quiet, he asked her a question that had been on his mind:
"When Spider-Man was over you in that Speedy Mart, he reminded you of your father didn't he?" Beck nodded, not noticing Peter looking down in shame. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be, it's not on you. My father had no reason, but Spidey had every reason."
He couldn't allow that, true or not. No matter how many times Beck had played him, toyed with him, he didn't get to be so harsh. Beck's weakness was that she only had known the regrets of Spider-Man's life, not Peter Parker's, things he had beaten himself over, still did sometimes.
His actions, the humiliation, that wasn't what he wanted to be about. That wasn't something his idol, Captain America, would do. Iron Man... since he revealed himself as Tony Stark, more of Stark's...less appealing attitude bled into his armored persona, so that didn't really count as much. But thinking of Cap reminded him, there was always a chance to make things right.
"He regrets it, how he handled you that day. He...he had a series of...unfortunate events leading up to that day, but he knew better."
It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. Was every encounter forgiven on either side? Was it ever? Peter didn't know, but he would work to make it happen. He wanted to move forward, even if it took baby steps.
Quinn had no idea of the inner turmoil in Peter. She was busy taking in the old Kong poster. Years ago she found it one day on top of a box of random items, free written on the side. It was one of her best finds, tragically forgotten in her rush to leave home for good. She was about to tell Peter about this, when someone entered the house.
"Who the hell is here! This is private property, I will give you one minute to show yourself before I call the sheriff. I already got your license pl-"
Quinn had already begun moving when the person spoke. Peter quietly followed her as they both descended the stairs. Quinn stopped halfway down. The new entree spoke with surprise.
"Quinn?"
"Cousin?"
The woman Quinn identified as "cousin", had light brown hair cropped short, it reminded him of Reed. She wore a business suit that was loosened for casual sake. The woman raced up a few stairs and hugged Quinn tightly.
"Oh my god, it's been too long!" Separating from Quinn, she eyed Peter curiously. "Who is this?"
"Peter Parker-"
"Spider-Man's photographer? Well aren't you two a pair! Quinn is lucky pa is on a business trip, he'd be interrogating this boy."
Quinn became flustered, and quickly tried to clarify the situation.
"We are not-he's not-" She was already strutting up to them.
"Hi there, I'm Maguire, but call me Mags. Don't ask me why they named me that."
"Uncle was a fan of birds, but auntie wouldn't allow Magpie."
"Dammit Quinn."
Quinn asked Mags: "I came here to see if everything is how I left it. You... saw the news right?"
Mags waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Yeah I did. But it wasn't you."
"Thank god someone knows."
"Quinn you are capable of many things, but I don't think you would make a wild animal pounce on a crowd, you have more class than that. Plus, the authorities aren't even looking for you yet."
"We know, that's why we came by, to see if we can prove that Beck isn't back in that way." Peter explained. "I think we've found proof she didn't, but..."
Mags read their expressions, and saw how worn they seemed. The Beck homestead had a way of doing that. Mags had a way of fixing that.
"You guys look tense, How about you and Peter come by the house for dinner?"
"I still can't believe, that of all the characters you made up, you chose Mysterio."
Dinner was leftover spaghetti, for some reason it was still fantastic. Old family recipe Mags had mentioned.
"Wait, what do you mean characters?" Peter inquired.
"Oh my god, Quinn here made so many growing up, and she actually kept track of them in notebooks and everything." She leaned in towards Peter. "Do you want to know how she made Mysterio?"
"Maaag-" Mag did not listen to her cousin's embarrassed plea.
"So it was Halloween right? Quinn is with us, because Uncle Elmore is out of town. Dad had these weird opinions about buying Halloween costumes, and because I was back and forth between wanting to go trick or treating, or being 'grown up', there were no costumes prepared. We had spare stuff around. Quinn wanted to be an astronaut."
Peter gave a side look to Quinn, who gave a shrug as she gave up trying to stop Mag's story. "I liked space stuff around that time."
"Anyways, that's all that Uncle could pull out, but that didn't stop Quinn. She borrowed a spare green spandex suit that I had for dance lessons, then she got a purple blanket, wrapping it around her neck. You wanna Finish the story Quinn?"
Quinn glared at her, but there was no malice as she stood up, and yelled, in that iconic voice:
"No one can withstand the awe inspiring power of Mysterio!"
Hearing Quinn say it so boldly, it made Peter laugh. He imagined a smaller Quinn Beck, standing tall on the outdoor lunch table, hands high in the air, shouting to the world.
Quinn brought Peter back to reality as she turned an evil eye to her cousin. "It's funny, Mag forgot to mention her costume."
"Hey, you leave Mad Jack out of this, he is iconic!"
Mag pulled out her phone, and showed Peter a picture of the two. It was very bright in one corner, and light reflected off of Beck's Dome head, making her barely visible, but the "prototype" of Mysterio and a grinning pumpkin child was clear to see. It brought warmth to his chest.
"Mysterio would show up every so often, when we played."
"Was he a sorcerer?"
"Sometimes, but there was also a mad scientist take, an otherworldly spirit take. She cooked up some crazy stuff." That evil look showed up in Mag's eye. "Would you like to see the Mysterio film series."
"Nice try cousin, even if you had the tapes, there is no way In hell Uncle kept that old tape player."
"Your right Baby Beck... that's why we converted it to DVD."
Horror dawned in Quinn's eyes. "You didn't...
"I don't mind, I am actually very curious." Peter said
Quinn looked at him, before looking away with a blush.
"If-if you want to Peter." Quinn looked nervous for a moment, then seemed resolute. "Popcorn, we need popcorn."
Mags stood up. "I got a bag or two in the kitchen."
"I'll help you." Quinn said.
"What? I don't-oh sure." Mags allowed her cousin to push her into the kitchen, where a push open pantry door shut behind them. Peter was relieved, as Quinn didn't notice the red that was spreading on his own cheeks.
Once in a separate room, Quinn began her attack. "What do you think you are doing? Just what are you planning?"
"Whatever are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb, telling Peter stories,. about my old movies-did you actually get them on DVD? Wait no, that's not the point. Are you hitting on him? Why are you embarrassing-"
Much like the man in the room beside her had done earlier, Mags pinched her cousin's lips closed. "You silly little button, I am telling him about you because you are into him, and vice-versa. Can't I talk to my future family?"
"I-you-what? No."
"Is he in a relationship?"
"N-no, I don't think so." Quinn's face was reddening.
"You don't think so?"
"His last relationship was several years back, his dating has been on and off, but he hasn't seen anyone serious in years."
"In other words, you just hit the jackpot~"
"I am seven years his senior!"
"Seven, a lucky number." Mags was unmoved. "Hate to tell you, but you don't even look twenty-five. Lucky."
"I used to be a supervillain!" Quinn was flabbergasted.
"And the X-Men used to be labeled criminals, Dragons used to be thought of as a myth, and Tony Stark used to be just another rich twat. Things change."
Quinn looked unconvinced. Mags strode across the small kitchen, and put Quinn's hands in hers. "I see how he looks at you. I'm not saying it's love, but if you cultivate it, let it grow... Come on Quinn, you guys seem so alike it's ridiculous." She counted the similarities on one hand. "Nerds, film lovers, you both played warcraft at one point."
"Why help me so much? It's not like I've been around..."
"Silly Baby Beck, we are family, we always help each other out."
Mags forced her cousin in between her and Peter. Each film ran for about five minutes, and they finished through them in no time. Quinn had been very quiet during the movie, the first of which was titled: Reign of the Tyrant-A-Saur.
Despite expecting a child's amateur film, Peter found there was more than that, far more. He was witnessing Quinn's technique improve substantially with each film. The effects midway through, became on par with the stop motion of golden age Hollywood. One of her main stars (She re-used assets often) was the T-Rex that started in the very first film.
Beck herself, initially watching them grudgingly, changed almost immediately. She watched her old films with a new wonder and focus. It was the happiest Peter had seen her. No one felt tired once the show was over, and Mag suggested that they settle down with Splash, one of Quinn's favorites.
Mag, caffeine addicted, stay up through the whole movie. When she looked over to her companions, Quinn was asleep on Peter's chest. Her fingers clung to his shirt tightly.
Mag drew a blanket over both of them. Neither stirred.
The next morning, Quinn woke up red faced, and refused to talk about it with Peter. Peter feigned confusion, Mags just smirked at them during breakfast. After the late breakfast, Peter and Quinn stood on the porch, getting ready to get back on the road.
"It's been good seeing you again Mags. if I can keep out of trouble, I'll try to visit again."
"Make sure you do, you and handsome are always welcome-Oh! Before I forget, wait here." Mags ran back into the house, coming out a short minute later. Mags pulled out a letter. It was aged, but unopened. "You should have this."
"What? From who?" Quinn questioned.
"It's from your... from Elmore. Before he passed. I found it during one of my maintenance visits. We meant to give it to you sooner, but I didn't know where you live, among other things. I have no idea what is in it. But something tells me it's important."
"Okay, I want to check up on the house one more time, I'll read it there."
Mags nodded. "I wish I could be here while you read it, but I have to get to work, and something tells me it's not for me to know if you don't want to."
"Mags, there is very little I wouldn't tell you about. I'll be in touch, and I mean it." Quinn gave Mags a strong hug, and forced herself to go back to the car.
Beck went to the car. Mags quietly grabbed Peter's arm, holding him back a second. "I don't know what is in that letter, but I think it might affect Quinn hard. Please, be there for her?"
Peter nodded, and he moved into the car with Quinn. They drove back quietly, the letter on both of their minds. Quinn's mind mostly. Peter's thoughts were of Quinn and her thoughts.
She wanted to read it at the house instead of in the car. "Better lighting in the house. If the letter is nothing..well might as well throw it in the fire and be done with it."
They entered the house quietly, and Quinn flicked the light on as she took a seat at the table...the same seat she would always sit in. Peter unconsciously sat where her mother had at one point, her father's spot remained taken by his ghost.
Beck read the letter quietly, the sun gave her more than enough to read the slightly aged paper. The tears were immediate, but she only began to crack as she continued reading. Her lips quivered, and her shoulders began to shake more as she re-read the letter. Peter knew she was re-reading it, and he stayed quiet, but also painfully curious to know what was being said. But it wasn't his place to know.
Beck disagreed though, and gave him the letter carefully. "Read it, please."
"Quinn, I don't know if-"
"I trust you, I need to know that what I read in that letter is really there. That I'm not just..." She folded her arms over the table, and rested her head quietly.
Peter read silently, as she had asked. He didn't know Elmore Beck, what he did wasn't endearing. Reading this letter, a letter meant for Beck, told him even more.
"I finished."
"What does it sound like to you?"
"It sounds like... a man that made a lot of mistakes. A man who wants his daughter to be unburdened by him, and be the person she was always meant to be."
Quinn's brow creased. She looked away, in thought, and Peter was about to ask what was up. Before he could, she had gotten up and ran up the stairs, he followed her not quite sure what she was doing. He followed the noise, and found her in her old room. This time, she was rummaging in the closet, the top half of her body out of view.
Finally, Quinn stood up. She pulled out something, and she seemed so lost. Peter came closer to take a look. In her hands was an old model of a T-Rex, its paint was faded heavily, and the flesh of one arm was missing, exposing the wire skeleton underneath. Peter still recognized Quinn's most iconic "actor".
"Beck?"
"He kept it. He kept all of it. I left this junk here because I had moved on to other things. I had better stuff, or just moved past it."
Her hands had started to shake, the more she looked at the T-Rex. Her voice was angry and confused.
"I just... I don't understand, he hated it. He hated me! Year after year living under this roof was an effort to crush my dreams. Telling me they wouldn't come true." She looked at Peter with free flowing tears. "I don't understand. Why did he keep all this?!"
The letter she had read either did not convince her enough, or she was in denial. It was hard to break out of emotions, locked in tight for years, only for someone to find the key. She hated her father, because for years he hated her. That is what she had believed, had always believed since that night she left forever.
"Maybe he realized he loved you too late. He lost you, so he kept what he had of you."
"I hated him for so many years! But...why didn't he say anything?" Her voice became a cheerful parody as she imitated a front desk lady. "Miss Beck? There is an old guy on the line, said his name was Elmore, Know him!?"
She moved to throw her old T-Rex, pulling her right arm back, ready to whip it like a fastball into the wall, but Peter Grabbed the arm, stopping her.
"I know so little about this man that has haunted you. I can't tell you why he kept this if he hated it, but please listen to me. Don't let him, don't let his ghost, ruin what you love. Don't let this old hatred, have any more control."
Before this moment, Peter Parker was a crush, attractive in all the right ways. Someone she wished she could have befriended in her life much earlier. She didn't know nearly enough about him yet, his life. He may not even return the feelings she had for him, her past mistakes may still haunt her.
She knew this in her heart: She was in love.
Peter deflated her rage, the energy leaving her as she cried. She didn't turn away from Peter's arms, as they wrapped around her. Holding unto him for what felt like an hour, but not nearly that long.
"I'm better, I...Thank you Peter."
"No problem, I had to protect the lead of 'Reign of the Tyrant-A-Saur'." He said with a smirk.
Quinn smiled ruefully back at him, looking down at the old rex. She should take him back with her, he decayed in the closet long enough. She just needs to give him a paint job, first some new skin, his arm was exposing the wireframe completely. It looked like a robot, or animatronic. Daniel would have had a field day-
Her brain froze, shut down, and then rebooted. Instead of elation, there was horror.
"Oh my god, Daniel." She turned, grabbing Peter's arm. "We have to find Daniel. He built a lot of my mechanical props, he was crucial for the more complicated ones."
They left in a hurry, although Quinn would return later when she had the chance. On the road, she told Peter the details of her relationship with Daniel Berkhart.
"I could make Holograms sure, and I knew how to utilize a drone or true, but I kinda peaked there. He was the hardware to my software, we made quite a team. When I became Mysterio, he thought it was funny, but in a good way. He was more than willing to help me out. Fake Mysterio finding a real sabertooth tiger? Colored purple? Has to be fake, mechanical."
"You think it's him?"
"Maybe...I don't know. I don't want it to be. He never seemed like that type of guy, he just liked to tinker. I also fear that someone paid him a visit."
"Where does he live?"
"Chances are the same place as before. I was only there a few times. I don't think he would have changed it. S.H.I.E.L.D. would know where he moved anyway, and if he disappeared he would already be a suspect."
"Would anyone suspect him anyway?"
"No, I put all of it on me. I told S.H.I.E.L.D. I was the mastermind, the instigator. Anyone and everyone I worked with was basically given a slap on the wrist."
"You did that?"
Quinn smiled at him. "Please don't make me out to be a hero. It was definitely more out of pride than honor."
They arrived at Daniels home late in the day. It was nice and isolated, you could barely make out the outline of other houses in the distance. The setting sun was bleeding away to the shadows.
Beck hopped out of the car fast, and knocked on the door rapidly. After no response for the first minute, she knocked again.
"Daniel? Are you there? It's me, Beck! I'm not here to cause you trouble, but if you have seen the news-" She looked into the window. The inside seemed quite normal, until she saw... "Peter, someone is on the floor."
Her panic drove him to act. He gave the door one strong kick, breaking the lock and sending it slamming into the wall. He entered, wary of anyone that might be in the house. Quinn followed him, and looked down where she saw the body.
"Oh my god, Danny..." Beck covered her mouth, sinking to her knees.
Daniel was home, and he was dead.
"Stay here for a sec." Peter said as he moved toward the body, Quinn didn't respond to him, only staring at Daniel's lifeless body.
Daniel was just an engineer. He was crucial to many aspects of her identity, but he never wanted to hurt anyone. He did it for the show, for fun. He liked to tinker. The old man who liked to tinker for heroes and villains would have liked him.
Peter looked over the body, coming back to her not a minute later.
"Quinn."
"It's my fault, all my fault, I wasted our time going to my home, feeding my curiosity. If we came here first, if I had my shit together, maybe we could have reached him."
"Quinn, you had to check, it was a good call. Process of elimination. I hate to be so blunt, telling you this, but I don't think coming here first would have mattered."
Finally she looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"He's been dead for a while, at least before the new Mysterio showed up." He pulled her up to her feet. "It looks like suicide, at least set up to look like it."
"But if he was responsible, why crash a single Broadway show and kill yourself?" Quinn was still able to use her brain, withstanding her emotional torment.
"If I have to make an assumption, whoever did this to him, probably made him create that big cat, or at least share the know-how. When they were done they...took care of him."
"We should find his computer, or office. If he has the blueprints, or the data..." Quinn suggested.
"We can prove it wasn't you."
"Hopefully, but who would believe in me Peter?"
Peter turned her around, and put both his hands on her biceps, moving them up and down slowly.
"I believe in you. I have since you came to my door a few weeks back." He pulled her in for a hug.
He couldn't say he was misleading her... an attraction had unbelievably grown. Love? Not exactly, but he had developed an affection for the woman known as Quinn Beck. She was undeniably cute when she seemed nervous, and Peter had a good idea why.
She had hugged him back, just as tightly. Whatever happened, Quinn Beck just needed more people in her life. People that don't want her purely for her "expertise".
Still, he should address it a bit more directly, when they weren't worried about her being framed.
It didn't take long for them to find the office. His computer was locked, And Beck went to look through his files while Peter looked for a password hopefully Written down somewhere. Beck stood up sharply.
"Found it, son of a bitch I found it."
"What's up?" She passed him the folder, immediately showing a blueprint for a quadruped animal, whose structure seemed to resemble a giant cat.
"So he did make it, the question is, who for."
The computer suddenly lit up, Mysterio on the screen. Peter and Beck couldn't make out the background, except for what looked like letters out of frame.
"So, I have a few worms in my garden."
"You bastard. What did you do to Danny!?"
"And here I thought we had a genius invade the homestead. I shouldn't be so shocked."
"I'm bringing you down for this, you son of a bitch." Quinn seethed at the copycat through the computer.
"So silly, do you think I wouldn't have a few tricks up my sleeve?"
Peter felt it, under the floorboard, in too many places to count. He had no time for elegant lies, to explain what was going to happen. He simply grabbed Beck by her waist and leapt over the computer. Mysterio continued talking on the screen.
"When you have pests-"
His senses flared, and he acted. Quinn saw him raise his arm, and press his two fingers to his palm. She barely had time to gasp as silvery webbing shot out and he yanked them both through the window.
"You bring out the pesticide!"
Barely a second after they flew out the window, bright lights sprayed out of the house as it detonated.
BOOM!!!*
Peter and Beck rolled and tumbled on the grass. Peter did his absolute best to take the brunt of it. He was thankful for his course leather jacket as he slid on his back on rough terrain, once they stopped tumbling.
Beck had done the intelligent thing, and kept her arms folded in, trusting Peter to not let go. A few quiet seconds without tumbling about, and she opened her eyes. Peter breathed hard.
"Peter are you okay?" She asked. He nodded , and her body loosened from exhaustion. Her legs resting on either side of him, she Looked back where the house had been.
The entire home was gone, a heavy burning cloud where it once was. Everything had gone, the house, whatever evidence she didn't grab...Daniel...
Her heart was heavy, but she had a new revelation on her mind as she looked down at Peter. He still hadn't brainstormed an excuse when she said it.
"You are Spider-Man."
Peter felt stuck, quite literally. He didn't want to move, he knew he could, but her statement demotivated him to move. He still couldn't think of an excuse. There was no other way to explain it, Beck wasn't stupid, but there was no way he would leave her just to protect his identity. No matter how important to him it was, he valued life more.
"You saved me. You saved...me."
Beck had her hands on his face, and was kissing him hard. She was inexperienced, but she had seen enough movies to know how not to kiss. She never really had a boyfriend...she never even...
Peter couldn't help but kiss back, it was good to be alive, to have a girl in his arms. He felt catharsis engulf his entire being. He had made it on time. He didn't lose Quinn like he lost Uncle Ben or Captain Dewolfe. He was able to catch Quinn, his web shooters succeeding where they had failed in that fateful moment years ago. For once, the nightmare of Gwen Stacy was blasted away like the house, now a burning wreckage two or three dozen meters away...
The current situation caught up with them, and they pulled back.
"So, I mean, um." Quinn was trying to find words. Peter was still trying to find an excuse, several kisses too late. Finally he gave up.
"A lot just went down Quinn, and we will need to talk. Right now, let's prioritize clearing your name. You got those files still right?" She raised a hand, showing she still did. "Ok, cool."
He noticed she looked embarrassed "Quinn." she looked away from him, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Hey, we will talk about this. I have your back, Quinn. I always did, and still do.
There was so much they had to talk about, he was goddamn right about that. But he was also right in focusing on the objective, considering it was the difference between her and jail time.
"So what is next?
"Sending the police the proof that you were not Mysterio, and then, we can lead them to the real perpetrators."
"How do we do that?"
"The new Mysterio may be good at imitation, but that is all he is. I noticed the background while he was talking. Did it seem familiar to you? Those letters: ACKMA. Not to mention the font..."
Beck thought hard, then had an epiphany.
The drive back brought another hurdle as the two discussed their next plan of action
"Listen, Beck. Drop me off at my apartment, I'll get my suit."
"No."
He turned to her in confusion. "What are you-"
"Spider-Man can't do this, I need to."
"...Pull over." She did as he asked. The car stopped on the side of the road, her hands were still tight on the steering wheel. "What are you talking about?"
Quinn sucked in a breath. "They think we are dead, and Spider-Man has an invested interest in you and me. They have to see that coming."
"...You know who it is, Don't you Beck?" Peter questioned. She nodded.
"I think I do, and if it is, they are pretty confident we are dead. Which means Spider-Man would be anticipated."
"That doesn't explain-"
"I'm sorry, for what I said to you. I had no right to bring up Stacy, or the Goblins. What you said, at your apartment... God it all makes sense now. I don't know if the twist is awful or if it's ingenious!"
"Quinn-" As if she wasn't listening, she began to speak.
"I'm proud, way too proud, I can't appreciate what I have. I'm smart, but still too stupid to see a good thing in front of me. I let my demons haunt me for so long, they took Spider-Man's shape, my father's-"
"QUINN, stop." Peter strongly interjected. His hands were in her face, turning her to look at him. "I am not leaving you behind, and I am not letting you do this till you start making sense."
"I need to do this. All of this, is my fault, I had a hand in it. whether I meant to or not, I dug this hole for myself, for years. I know I wasn't a good person Peter, let's not mince words. I did some nasty things, perhaps not Cassidy nasty or Osborn nasty, but nasty all the same. But Mysterio is mine. It is my identity, it is my property, I even copyrighted the damn thing." She took a moment to breathe. "I need to expose them... I need them to be exposed, or I am forever trapped. There will always be doubters, people questioning if it all was an elaborate scheme. It isn't for them, it's for me."
"Quinn, I understand, but what are you gonna do, walk up there alone? You keep talking like I'm not here, like I can't help you. If you give me time to prep-"
"I told you-"
"I didn't say Spider-Man was going to help." He gave her a smile. "I told you before, the Web-Head didn't always work alone. You don't have to either."
To my only daughter, Quinn Beck.
I love you, and I am sorry. I wish I knew which words to put first but they are equally important. I only wish I had realized that before I forced you out of my life.
I would be too stubborn to ever say it, but having the last few years to think alone, made me proud of you for leaving when you did. Your mother would have nailed me to a cross if she had learned an acre of how I performed as a father. I only hope I can see her in heaven when she boots me in the face.
Your uncle still visited me, after you left. I am amazed they tolerated the sight of me. They helped keep me updated on your work in show business. I saw your movie, the only one, and my god. I wish I could have told people, that's my girl, she is the one that made that all that cool stuff.
But I didn't, I couldn't, because I threw away the right to call myself a father. I'd have to explain myself when they asked how did I do it, and I would be too much of a coward to admit how many wrongs I committed. The truth is you achieved everything yourself, sure as hell no help came from me.
I failed, and you went farther than any Beck had since my grandfather started his own business. A business you're uncle has been rightfully in charge of. I was a failure before your mother had you, and how she put up with me I couldn't imagine.
When your mother died, The good man in me died with her, not realizing in his grief, that he still had his girl. I say this to explain, Quintin, because I can't ever justify my actions, there is nothin I did right, except for one thing, making you.
If it hasn't burned away in a fire, or taken away after my death. I kept pretty much everythin you left behind. I am awful at keeping the house clean, so sadly I didn't really take good care of them, just kept them in the closet of your room. I couldn't look at it, but I could not throw all I had left of you away.
They call you a criminal, I don't care. You will always be a better person than I ever was, and unlike me, you stopped before it was too late.
The only right I have to tell you anything now about how to live is only because I failed these things myself.
Don't let what I was, color you on finding someone special, man or woman. Don't be afraid to have children if you please, because you fear a repeat of me. You deserve more than that. Ultimately, that's a big word from me, learn from my mistakes, and don't let me leave such a stain on your life.
I wish I could go back and change it all, but I am not deserving of such a power. Please know this, I love you, even when I showed you the opposite. I only hope that you forgive me, and you have every right not to. Also know, that you have nothin to apologize to me for, that goes without saying, but I must say it here, with my own words.
Your Father, Elmore Beck
I am sorry, I love you.
He was never sure how exactly he was born with powers, only that he was. It skipped his older brother, who always seemed bitter about it. They had come from a poor income household, dad made bad investments, first with good people, than bad people.
Big brother knew bad people, and when he learned of his brother's power, he saw an opening. Teleport drugs into people's bloodstream directly. Then, they would "convince" them that he could make them better with the same drug he injected them with. His brother was smart though, they kept it quiet, rolling in the cash until a few partners became suspicious.
His big brother said they were leaving drug-running behind, becoming legitimate. First, however their share was being denied, so he had his gifted sibling teleport the cash to them, while leaving behind a box.
He didn't know what the box was, nor did he make the link to the fire until many years later. At that point it didn't matter, they were already condemned.
His brother founded Brownstone media, with several locations in Hollywood and New York. However, as smart as his big brother was, he wasn't perfect, making cocky business decisions, bad investments, that cost Brownstone deeply. But it was too late, or maybe they were too stubborn, to go back to simple drug running.
That is when they were contacted by a stranger, and a plan was formed.
Interference in Daniel's home told them someone was poking around. They saw a new opportunity, and changed the plan a bit.
They had watched the old Mysterio and her accomplice attempt to escape the explosion. Neither could figure out how the guy knew it was a bomb, maybe he just had a decent survival instinct. It didn't matter, they got blasted, they only had a few cameras in the house, so they didn't see a good reason for them to be alive. The crisp bodies would be found, the blame pinned on them.
The warehouse, meanwhile, was supposed to be secure, bought it under Brownstone media a lifetime ago, and if anyone did know about it, well the ones that would have just went up in flames.
Imagine their shock, that next morning, when Quinn Beck was striding up through their gates, unharmed. How she was alive wasn't a concern now, it was how she knew where to go.
"How the fuck did she figure it out? How you idiot!"
"I mean, maybe the..." He pointed at the area they had filmed their little message, where the old TrackMasters sign hung. His brother told him no one would notice. It was his mistake, but he would forget. But...Beck didn't actually figure it out that way, did she? It had been years, how would she notice?
He tossed the fishbowl helmet at his younger brother. "Put it on, you have to be Mysterio, not a loser."
The elder brother didn't notice the dark look of his sibling burning holes into his back.
You are the real loser, brother.
Beck had come in as easy as one, two, three. She anticipated the beast they used to maul that poor man was skulking around, maybe just waiting for her to come by. It hadn't come, and that made the hair on her neck raise. She found herself in a decently spaced out stage area. The TrackMasters sign she spotted hanged low.
The new Mysterio stepped out of darkness, his hands raised invitingly. Puffs of purple and black smoke emitted around him.
"Welcome Beck, to the current base of the great Mysterio. Unfortunately, you were not invited. Have you come to join me in a new era of glory? Beck?"
"You got the movements all wrong Klum."
Mysterio froze.
"I don't really care, I mean I do care. That is my character you are ruining, and you are really not giving your best."
The copycat worked to keep their composure. "Who are you trying to fool Quinn Beck?"
"No one, for once I am not pretending. Your voice does not match your brother's body at all, Garrison."
There was a pause, and then clapping. Garrison Klum came out from behind Mysterio, clapping sarcastically, tossing the mic he was using aside, he acknowledged her.
"Bravo, bravo. I have to ask: What gave it away?"
"I would recognize your voice anywhere Klum, even though you wouldn't stand out against any other corporate sleazebag."
"That hurts Beck, though I'm sure our little...show has hurt you even more. Mysterio has more attention than ever, and it's not because of you."
Garrison Klum was many things, a bully was putting it far too light, but a bully nonetheless.
"I hope you know I am suing you, and what's left of Brownstone media."
The brothers paused, staring at her.
"What?" That was Garrison.
"Defamation of character, among other things. I copyrighted Mysterio very early on in my career, everything including merchandise. You don't have a legal right to use Mysterio, it belongs to me, and always has."
"You know what, you're right. That will make it easy when they find your body here, the great Mysterio, killed by her own creation, after murdering Daniel Berkhart."
Mentioning Daniel seemed to make Quinn's mask crack. "You killed Danny? Why?"
"Because like you, he outlived his usefulness. You should have died in the explosion we rigged Beck, now we can use you one last time, as a prop."
"You stole my alter ego, stole Daniel's technology, murdered people using Mysterio, and you planned to frame me for all of it?"
"Exactly that you stupid little girl. You walked right into it!"
Quinn wiped her tears away as she called out. "Peter did you get all that?"
Peter Parker stepped out, right into view, his phone up high and aimed at the Klum brothers.
"Even better, I streamed it live"
N.Y.U.
"Guys! Log in right now! You have to see this!"
"Dude no way, I told you something was up!"
"This is better than Broadway!"
Upstate New York
"Oh my god Quinn, you crazy bitch, I knew you had it in you." Maguire said, smirking in her office chair.
Daily Bugle
"Look I'll take you somewhere fancy honey, but Dorsia is too goddamn expen-hold on a minute, my Producer is spamming the call button."
J. Jonah Jameson put his wife on hold, unable to tolerate the constant beeping on line two. Blood pressure already high, he pressed the button to link up to line two.
"Jared what is it my wife is on the other...WHAT DO YOU MEAN MYSTERIO IS CONFRONTING MYSTERIO?! WHAT STREAM?!"
Garrison screamed in rage, pulling a gun and firing on Beck.
BLAM! BLAM!*
Momentarily stumped as it fazed through, he growled as more Becks walked into the room, all of them sharing the same expressions. Their voices echoed.
Quinn smirked, that old personality rising from the dead. "Did you think I would actually put myself in harm's way with no plan? I am the great Mysterio, you are but cosplayers, who do not understand a fraction of my true genius!"
Quinn suddenly felt very weak in her legs, and it wasn't nerves. She was unveiled from her position on the wall, the camouflage blending her with shadows deactivating. Falling forward, she could barely keep her head up, exposing herself as her copies remained standing. She wasn't alone, as Peter fell to his knees not far from her.
"I give you credit for being bold, you gave Francis enough time to deliver our special gas right under your noses, well your nose, we sent it straight to your boy toy over there. Now that your one trick is done, everyone can watch live while you're-why are you smiling you stupid bitch?"
The holograms of Beck were smiling, she was smiling. "You think... I'm a... one trick... pony?"
Before Garrison could swear, he was surrounded by uncloaking agents, their forms shimming into existence. Standard issue combat armor, with the addition of protective gas masks. The iconic symbol.of S.H.I.E.L.D. on their shoulders, their guns were aimed and ready.
"Hands! Show us your hands!"
"Francis, we need to go."
"Shows your hands or-"
Within his sleeve, Garrison thumbed a button. Eyes glowed above them as an agent was pounced on by a giant purple beast. Sent down to the floor, the agents quickly fired on the big cat, hoping to save their comrade.
The agents distracted, Francis grabbed his brother.
POOF*
The pair were covered in a massive puff of smoke as gunfire sprayed where they once were. A half second too late, and both of them would have been dead, wherever they went.
The two agents that had noticed, and attempted to end the copycat's life had to drop the issue from their minds, as a giant cat attempted to maul their comrades.
Beck saw the big cat was going to make quick work of those operatives. Using what strength she had, she made more holograms of herself appear. It seemed to throw off the beast, as it tried to swipe at the Beck so suddenly up close to it.
The purple beast swiped and clawed at the holograms as the real soldiers kept their distance. Its programming was confused by the holograms, unable to differentiate them from the real flesh and blood agents attempting to kill it. Its swipes were violent, and as bullets stuck it, the artificial flesh was torn away bit by bit.
The team had been equipped with armor piercing rounds, but this thing was taking far more damage then expected
"We have to lead this thing outside!" The squad leader had yelled. He fired his auto shotgun into the Beast's face. Three successful shots landed dead on the side of its face, ruining it. The creature didn't help or moan or even roar, it didn't understand pain. The man's dismay turned to horror as it finally struck true, sinking its teeth into a ballsy agent who got too close.
The street wasn't particularly busy, if at all. You still had a steady flow of traffic when other streets were otherwise too occupied. Surrounded by other abandoned buildings, the Brownstone warehouse didn't stand at much. Those on the other side of the street, where shops were still open, and pedestrians still walked, didn't have a care in the world for it.
The Brownstone warehouse that no one paid attention to, now had everybody's attention. First was the loud clatter of gunfire. As someone was already getting the police on speed dial, an SUV sized portion of the wall was demolished.
CRAASH!!*
Boys that had slipped school, and other loiterers that hung out by the fence of the old building, scrambled away after the initial hole in the building was made. Onlookers filmed from the other side of the street.
The large purple cat, still bloodied from its debut at the theatre, tumbled out into the sandy front yard. The purple fur coat, so realistic and smooth, was frayed and matted in blood, not its blood, it didn't have veins. What it did have was a skeleton, made out of a shiny chrome metal, revealed on the ruined left half of its face.
There were more portions of the false flesh ruined, here and there, some of the legs, holes in the body. The face, however, was a shining beacon, both attracting and repelling the onlookers on the other side.
Clamped between the Beast's jaws, was the arm of a panicking shield agent. The agent was stabbing into its mouth, the beast didn't budge. It did however, whip its head around, yanking him to and fro, its teeth attempting to sink deeper...
The other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had flooded out of the hole. Their response was immediate, maneuvering carefully around the violent animatronic.
"Don't fire unless you have a clear shot."
And they did, once the beast attempted to whip around one way it was shot in the rear
The sniper on the roof couldn't take a shot, unless he wanted to blow a hole in the agent. If the agent was struck by the automatic rifles, his body armor could take it. It was the only thing keeping that animal from severing his arm entirely.
Finally, the agent being dragged around, drove his knife into a sweet spot, within the mechanics of the Beast's jaws. It's programming felt the intruding object, and processed it as a mechanical issue, not as a ten inch blade. It was enough to make the big cat pop it's mouth open, releasing the agent who rolled away
The second that the agent had rolled away, the sniper fired.
KRRSSSHH!*
A high Calibur round screamed for half a second, as it drilled through the center of the big cat's back. The mechanical creature staggered before resuming its wild swings at the agents surrounding it. Another shot echoed, accompanied by the precise shots made by the field agents.
The beast fell on its back, squirming hazardous, flaying its long limbs in an attempt to finish what it was commanded to do. Rip, tear, kill.
Three agents, popping fresh clips into their rifles, approached just close enough. Switching to full auto, they unloaded into the creature. By the time the clips were emptied, it was still, a winding slow spinning noise within it quieting into silence.
The police had blocked off the area, but a crowd had still come around.
The whole thing wouldn't have been such a big deal, had Quinn Beck and Peter Parker not streamed what had happened live. Seeing Quinn Beck, formerly Mysterio, expose the copycats, had sent superhero fanatics and critics alike into a frenzy. News reporters were desperate to interview the former villain, who was on the scene, but no one could catch sight of.
This is because Quinn and Peter were hidden inside a mobile base, receiving medical care. The gas was not fatally toxic, but had incapacitated even Peter. Peter had felt helpless and furious that he had struggled to stand while the shield agents risked their lives against that mechanical terror. He was only relieved by the fact none of the agents had tried, although they had come close.
"We are now under strong belief that Francis Klum is an unregistered mutant, there were no signs of gas, but you guys have been drugged without a doubt. He may have been able to teleport objects as well as himself. We have found no other tech to explain otherwise, and our bio readings we were able to get suggested mutation on some level. We are not quite sure if it's X-gene, however."
Peter understood right away, he knew more than a few mutants himself.
"We are thankful you used your Holograms like you did. If it was able to focus on us, we would have dead agents, not just maimed ones."
"Will your guy be alright?" Peter asked.
"His armor kept the thing from ripping his arm off entirely, but he's got some deep punctures. He'll need a vacation, Tahiti or something, but he'll be alright. Our priority will be to disassemble what's left of that fucking thing-" He pointed at the remains of the big cat. "-and figure out how it works when we run into these fuckers again."
They had scanned the building before they moved in. The beast didn't show up on their scans, and analyzing the beast's skin told them why. The synthetic skins seemed to cloak it, while it sat quietly in wait to pounce on an intruder. Perhaps they wanted to sick it on Beck, before she made Garrison Klum lose it, and he tried to fire on her with his own gun.
"Beck is in the clear right? For good?"
The agent looked at Peter. Peter Parker was registered on a "trust" list, from high up. Not high enough to, say, openly tell secrets about weapons, nuclear warhead locations, and the like. But this? Cake.
"Yes, for now. She's cleared of any charges relating to this incident, and she did save a few of my boys lives, I won't forget that." He looked at Beck meaningfully. "Just try to stay out of the villains spotlight. Second chances aren't cheap as it is."
"You got that right." Peter said absently.
"We know what they put in you at least, it's common as a substitute for ketamine. We are getting it out of you fast, then we can get you out of here discreetly."
Peter and Quinn were able to successfully leave incognito. Quinn's holographic form of her and Peter heading into a decoy vehicle helped ten shitloads. Still, Quinn felt a pang when she saw how much attention the hologram was getting, and wished she could be there. Then, she turned and saw Peter, and a pang of warmth came forth.
Peter walked Quinn to her current residence, the same hotel room that she had been bagging up to get out of dodge not too long ago.. She spotted two suits at her door, and immediately froze, thinking the worst. The men looked in their direction, and Beck was about to spin on her heel, when Peter put an arm around her, holding her in place. She relented quickly, realizing that Peter was more than capable of handling them if they meant ill.
"Relax Quinn it's just... Spider-Man's former agent?" Peter said.
"Peter Parker! Good to see you! What did I tell you Sully! I knew they would end up here. Shield always misdirects people, especially paparazzi."
"How did you find me?"
"Miss Beck, you told me where to contact you if I wanted to share more info, I've used this hotel once or twice myself you know."
"Oh, that's right." Beck flushed, embarrassed. "What do you want?"
The other man besides Maxwell straightened, and injected himself into the conversation. "Maxwell wanted to introduce me, the name is Sullivan Edwards. I wanted to speak to you, Quinn Beck. I want to... collaborate."
Sullivan Edwards, that was a name that meant money. Money from hands that dipped into a variety of pots, entertainment was a lesser known pot. Of course, you didn't need to know. Even Beck knew the man before her breathed, and made more in that breath than most do in a year, and that's exactly why:
"You lost me." Quinn said.
"I heard of Mysterio before, but never had I seen Mysterio, until that copycat crashed the Broadway show. It was horrifying, gut clenching, it was... spectacular."
"You...I didn't create that murdering beast, the copycats did and I'm not-"
Sullivan Edwards interjected fiercely.
"No no NO. You are focused on the wrong things, it wasn't what they did, but how they did it. All of it was fantastical, and that was from a bunch of rip off artists. I couldn't help but think...What about the REAL Mysterio. The real brainchild, the source. I went on a spree online, everything I could find about you, and it didn't disappoint. What those Klum boys did was..well shock value is one thing but really they were mediocre."
Quinn flushed at the praise, but heard words like this before, even if it usually didn't have Mysterio in its context.
"I...I don't understand."
"Beck, let me be straight with you, I hate entertainment as it is. I hate the people in the industry. I don't care about the money they make, because I have more than I will ever want. They are boring, uninspired, and ...Christ, do you hear me Beck. I want to offer you a job."
Beck was floored, flabbergasted. She was flung upside down by webs, even though Peter hadn't moved an inch.
"I don't, I mean. I have a criminal record.
"Have you seen the people in Hollywood? Everyone has some kind of record. You did your time, yes?"
"I d-did. But I-shit I don't even know where to start."
"I watched your stream, hilarious by the way, that ass-hat's face is already a meme, or whatever they call it. But you stated, matter of fact, that you own the 'rights' to 'Mysterio'? Baby you got your brand right in front of you!"
Beck couldn't believe it, could barely fathom it. This man wanted to make Mysterio a "thing". Was she in a dream? comatose? Did she die in that warehouse?
"You are not...well I want my creative freedom-"
"Done. Done, done, and done. Bring a Lawyer, we'll get the paperwork sorted out. Let's tighten up loose ends and get to work. Until then, how about a yes to meeting, and we shake on it?"
The man had his hand out. It was like a dream. It may not have been a hollywood type, but by god he spoke like it. Quinn looked at Peter, who gave a smile of reassurance.
Spoiler alert: She said yes.
They had reappeared several blocks away, in a spacious alley. The alley was consumed in a plumage of dark smoke, thankfully no one noticed. Francis went to his knees, feeling for any bullet wounds. There were none, thankfully, but he could feel a few cracks in his helmet, where rounds had grazed him.
There were a couple of bullet holes in his cape as well, but he didn't have time to notice them. Garrison walked over to the chained up garage door, and fired on the lock with no hesitation.
"Garri-"
"Shut the fuck up and help me lift this." To Garrison, it was New York, plus, the police would be fixated with the robot they left. Time was still short.
They lifted the garage door, revealing a sedan that was new at least ten years ago. Garrison had it hotwired, ready to go. Hopefully it still worked, this was all Garrison's plan, not that he did anybody this alone.
"Get in, and take that helmet off." Francis barely had time to comply before Garrison nearly ripped out into the road.
They got onto a highway going upstate. When the road became empty and spacious, and the treeline surrounded them, Garrison gunned it to high speed.
"Fuck, fuck FUCK! God fucking dammit. All we had to do was pretend Francis, pretend. Now we have to get out, before the man on top finds out how hard we fucked it."
"We can still appeal to him, we escaped didn't we? And Master said-"
"We wouldn't have had to escape if you could do your part, and take care of the bitch! Now she is gonna talk, not that it matters, because they fucking streamed it Francis!" The speedometer was climbing steadily. Garrison always thought of speed limits as suggestions. "I can't believe you France, You were born with the gifts, you can teleport, and you can't even catch a fucking failed actress. It should have gone to me, all of it, not a fucking loser."
"Don't call me a loser."
Garrison turned to him, still speeding. He placed a hand in his coat pocket, where his .45 had been holstered.
"What the fuck are you going to do about it? Without me, you wouldn't know your ass from your elbow. You would have died, in high school. That goofy fucking costume is what gave you a spine, and it's all an act." The road got bumpy, Garrison put his eyes on the road briefly, jerking the car back to center. He returned his attention to his brother. "I repeat, what the fuck, are you gonna do about it?"
Francis was quiet, his face giving no emotion. Quietly he put on the glass helm of Mysterio-
POOF*
- and disappeared, black puff of smoke dispersing throughout the car in his wake. Garrison took a second to maintain control, swearing as the smoke clouded his vision for a moment, before the cracked windows slowly let it out.
So that's it huh? He left. Doesn't matter, he'll come back. He needs me, always a pussy-
Garrison felt the pain very suddenly, he couldn't breathe, as his chest expanded. It was as though an entire human being suddenly grew inside of him. The experience was excruciating, but nevertheless brief.
His torso exploded, sending organs, blood and black smoke splattering all over the windows. The car swerved once to the left, and then suddenly jerked to the right as it sprung into the air, twirling like a professional ice skater.
POOF*
Francis Klum appeared in a puff of smoke on the street, right under the car as it flew overhead. He sat in his hands and knees soaked in blood. The car hit the road, rolling and tumbling. Francis was able to remove his bloody helmet in time to see it come to a stop, resting upside down.
Francis didn't cry, simply staring at the wreckage as it slowly caught fire. Then, a smile of relief came unto his face
I did it, you said I could do it. I always had it in me. You said I could prove myself, once I found the strength. You were right.
Thank you master.
Francis, stood and shuffled into the treeline, leaving a bloody trail that would soon go cold by a riverbed.
The wreckage sat uninterrupted for several minutes, before finally being discovered by a couple driving cross country. By the time authorities got there, fire had engulfed the entire vehicle, turning it into a hazardous bonfire.
4 years later
As much as Quinn had fantasized and dreamed of being in an event like this, she wished she could leave. The party was in full swing, and it was in her honor, which made it that much harder to leave. It was not a party for Mysterio, but it was a celebration for all Quinn Beck had accomplished. In particular, breaking the box office with "Arachna-Man 2".
The success it had genuinely shocked her. The fictional superhero was a direct parody of Spider-Man, yellow and green replacing the red and blue, a removal of the web pattern, and round orbs that instead of the usual sharp lenses of Spider-Man. Peter even helped make the costume for the production. It's success greenlit a sequel, and that sequel beat the first installments record.
"So we are doing a third right? Tiffany said she was up for it." Toby asked Beck by the catering area. He was the lead actor, portraying the title character. His blonde hair gave him a distinct look from Peter, which only helped him get hired."
"I think we will, as long as Jameson doesn't get a foot in the door for his defamation lawsuit." Quinn responded.
While the Spider-Man documentary was made and released, it was done without the support of the Bugle. It didn't change everyone's mind on the Spider, but it certainly turned a few heads toward Jameson's way.
"Ha! Unlikely, Between Mac Gargan and Spencer Smythe's lawsuits, that guy is barely gonna have enough money to afford any lawyers." Sullivan Edwards had a... confident personality, but Quinn got used to it. "Not to mention, as Mysterio, she has Jennifer Walters on call, courtesy of the Avengers-"
He was cut off by a very drunk Maguire Beck. Her dress was thankfully reserved, or she would have shown much more at this point. She basically hung on the older man. "Quit talking about boring legal stuff, we need to talk about what's-uh-important. The next moneymaking villain, Mad Jack in the Box! No wait- hold on a second-"
She seemed to fly off of him, almost skipping into the crowd. Sullivan, having divorced two years ago, straightened his tie. "I think I am in love. Excuse me."
Quinn felt an arm around her waist, as Peter interjected. "Hey there Miss Director."
"Peter, can you 'cosplay' as Spider-Man, and stop Mags before Sullivan Edwards tries proposing to her, or something else?"
Peter looked over to where Mags was acting erratic. To Sully's credit, he seemed to put her attention on him, and not the poor man dressed as Arachna-Man. "I think they'll be alright, Sullivan has his quirks, but no one will do anything rash. Between Flash and your uncle, not to mention the actual security. They don't even know about the drones. As for proposing, the heart wants what the heart wants, but again, your uncle."
She nodded, knowing there was very little they could do. "It feels hard to breathe here."
"Mind taking a stroll with me? For some fresh air?"
"I wouldn't mind some fresh air."
Air translated into being brought on a web slinging trip. She still had some anxiety left over after three years of them. The first year of dating she flat out refused, more worried she would throw up on him. In his arms she never worried about falling, but the thought of throwing up mid air was still unappealing.
He brought her to the Statue of Liberty, where Daryl Hannah was arrested for public indecency when she came ashore in one of Quinn's favorite movies. Peter, back in his dress clothes, put his ruffled jacket around her shoulders. It wasn't that cold, but she loved that stuff.
"I noticed you were getting some attention. Lots of people want pictures with New York's biggest director."
"Nothing you didn't already give me when I was broke, and not making a couple hundred million in the box office... and technically wanted." She held her face in her hands, embarrassed but smiling. "I can't believe you convinced me to use my childhood scripts."
"I can, now "Queen Mysterio" is the bestselling fantasy comic right now. You are getting a Saturday morning cartoon, and even a cereal brand deal. That right there is the big leagues."
"I had help. I had you." Her arm looped around his, she looked at him thoughtfully.
"My pride, as often as it helped me climb mountains, threw me off of cliffs just as much. When the copycat showed up, I was...done. I thought 'That's it, no more chances, no more dreams.'. Then, you helped me, it was such a short span of time, but yet... If you didn't have my back, I'd be dead and framed, or on the run forever.. Everything I have now, everything I have gained, is because you gave me an out years ago. Then, as Peter Parker, you gave me an in. I wouldn't just have nothing. this whole thing, the celebration, you and I, it would be nonexistent."
He was a physical representation of her validation. Not a literal one, although he played a huge part in her change in course.
"I helped a little, but that party, over there-" Peter gestured to the building where the celebration was being held. "-is because you worked hard. I didn't write the comics, you did. I didn't do charity events, you did. You turned Mysterio into a positive icon, for everybody. There have been some twists and turns, but hey, that kind of the song and dance of my life, and yours, am I right?"
She hugged him tightly, and gave him a long lasting kiss on his lips. Quinn Beck seven years ago wouldn't be so bold. Quinn Beck seven years ago wasn't as happy as she was, nor could she defeat Spider-Man. At least, not in a bedroom, she had to turn the refurbished Tyrant-A-Saur on the side table around for those activities...
She didn't feel like returning to the party.
"Any big twist tonight Mr. Parker?"
Peter slipped a hand into his pocket, feeling the small box in his hand. "Maybe."
Spoiler alert, she said yes.
End
Author's note:
Good evening, have you missed me? For I have missed you. I really should join one of the communities here, but I don't know if there are active chats or I just have to watch for posts to replies. Lots to learn here still.
Finally the next installment has been released, and it's only*Looks at word count, screams internally.
Welp, I did it again. I really don't mean to, but like usual, I had it at a certain amount, added details, added more, here we are. I still mean what I said, there will be shorter chapters, I usually stick to a few basic ideas and then go for it.
Here, the idea was to focus more on the human/character aspect of Beck. Mysterio is both loved and mocked by the Spider-Man community, and I wanted to explore that within universe.
The comics changed Beck's inspiration as a child from Ray Harryhausen, to the movie "Splash". I thought: Why not both? And so I attempted to pay homage to both.
As you may have noticed, I try to go for different themes and stories each chapter. I could just do:They fight, they rut, they love, maybe not? And not in that order?
Last chapter was more fixated on Spider-Man, and so here, we have a chapter more fixated on Peter Parker. Both play a role, and it will switch up occasionally.
Not so much Spider-Man action, but there was action. Honestly there was not meant to be much at all. I was going for a who dunnit? comedy style chapter. The moment Beck reveals it's being streamed, it was supposed to cut away to the Copycat being arrested. The android big cat was added to give weight to the situation, and the need for Beck to prove her innocence. Did I succeed? That's up to you.
I do apologize for posting so late, I have been working on multiple projects, have had a rough patch in my personal life.
Speaking of which, the updates to previous chapters are still coming, but will be released down the line. As of this author's note, the updates are still in the works, but I plan to have them released alongside the next chapter instead.
I think of it like game development, I can keep releasing half baked chapters, and work back and forth to "patch" them, or I can release Chapters when they are ready, minus the unavoidable typos I somehow miss. But typos are easier to fix.
While I know a lot of you probably don't care for my other two stories, for those who do: both are alive, I've just been fixated on this story in particular, it's just held my drive. I truly apologize to those who follow Jaune Who and Adapt to the Dark. Both of those are also still on a rework phase(more ATTD).
This Narrows down the classic Sinister Six members to 2, the next one was supposed to have a cameo here, but it didn't work out the way I wanted.
Now for some personal responses:
Bobisbadatenglish: My friend, you called it! I don't know if this chapter would be a new favorite, but I do hope it was worth the wait.
Kryn Womble: Absolutely right on the Vulture, that character will need some reworking, but I want to give respect to the character, without making more extreme changes than necessary.
Goblin and Venom, those two...I have plans. I can't tell you how excited I am to properly start work on them, the story for either has been loosely worked out. While I didn't intend these latest chapters to get so big, I want these two to be epic. I literally won't care about length, it may cross the 30k word count, but for all I know, one or the other may be the shorter chapter, and that would just be...irony.
Now here is something important, regardless. Once this chapter is posted, even excluding this overly long authors note, Pretty Sinister will be at over 100k words, the first story I have posted on this site to ever do so! That's a big deal for me. It means you search for stories of that length, mine will show up, hopefully. And as far as I'm concerned, I'm not even halfway done! Can't get ahead of myself, I want to show, not tell.
Anyways, please leave a review, if you happened to find this story recently, and just got caught up, let me know your favorite, your least favorite. Let me know why, let me know what you want to see. Regardless, thank you guys for giving me a shot.
-Timing.
Rework Edit:
Damn, I honestly wasn't expecting to take so long to create a follow up to this chapter, over a year. Life happened, and there have been some changes, more to come unfortunately, but hopefully for the better.
I hope those of you revisiting these chapters have enjoyed the reworked versions, I had mainly planned to do some spellchecks and make the general structure of these stories a bit more consistent. I have to say though, regarding spellchecks, I swear this app is working against me sometimes. I will save multiple times and a period or detail will be missing, I suppose I will just deal with it until the chapters stay fixed for good.
anyways, still ended up doing some restructuring here, and adding an addition or two to boot. Hope you enjoyed!
-Timing.
