Wings of Death Part Three

Spider-Man got out of the reeking dumpster with a groan of pain. The webbed avenger's body stung from the multiple impacts suffered from being smacked into the sides of buildings.

Spider-Man glared up at the sky, furious that The Vulture, or whatever he was calling himself, had slipped away. He had two options, One, he could try to tail the murdering freak, or Two, go back and see if he can help anyone. The web head turned around and ran from the alleyway.

The hero came upon a scene ripped right out of Road Warrior. Burning cars were flipped over onto their roofs. People lay about screaming and moaning in pain. Bodies were draped over lampposts like grim decorations. Spidey felt like vomiting.

Most people still there where helping the injured, or comforting the dieing. Except, one person. That person stood still, holding his cell phone out, and taking pictures. Spider-Man became furious at the sight of this little freak standing about snapping photos of the carnage.

"Excuse me," Spider-Man said, tapping on the man's shoulder.

"Huh? What do what?" The man asked. He stood two heads taller then the super powered teen, with a head a black hair. He wore an AC/DC shirt and low cut shorts, showing off his incredible hairy legs. His brown eyes gave the spider-themed power an annoyed look.

"I want this." Spider-Man said, snatching the camera phone from (for convenience sake) Chad's hand, much to his protest. Spider-Man raised the multi purpose device above his head and with his strength, threw it to the ground, smashing it into a million tiny little pieces. "If you're not going to help, get the hell out of here you sicko!"

Chad snarled at Spider-Man before storming off, muttering something about 'costumed fruits'. The Web-Head snorted at the depraved man, disappointed at how low one person could be as to take pictures of this.

Spider-Man ran over to a group of people surrounding an over turned car. "What can I do to help?" He asked a man squatted down next to the vehicle.

The crowd jumped as they saw him in his red and blue long johns. "Your that, Spider guy from the papers! You're scrawnier than I thought you'd be." A man in a red jersey said.

"Yeah, I get that a lot, is someone trapped in that car?" Spider-Man rushed.

"Well we wouldn't be surrounding a flipped over car if somebody wasn't." The squatted man snapped. "Both doors are stuck, so unless you can rip 'em off, get out of here!"

Spider-Man glowered, though you couldn't really tell, at the man. He told them to back up, waving them away. Spider-Man knelt down next to the door. The metal and plastic frame was crumpled and cracked. The window was cracked, ready to shatter if anymore, force was applied.

Inside was a middle age woman with blonde hair and black eyes. A nasty cut ran across her forehead, letting blood dribble down into her short cut hair. Too Spider-Man, the woman looked rather familiar.

"Don't worry mamma, I'll get you!" He reassured.

"Pff, like a scrawny little wuss like you could help!" Mocked the man in the red jersey.

"Hey! Can't you see there are more people that need help? Get over there and try not to act like a monkey." Spider-Man shot at him. He turned his attention back to the car door. Spider-Man grabbed at an edge of the crushed door. With minor exertion, his fingers ruptured the metal/polyurethane door. Spider-Man spread his legs and pulled to the left. He grunted as his muscles strained and metal stretched and snapped. With a horrid noise, the car door was ripped from its hinges.

The Web-Head dropped the door, and reached into the upturned vehicle. Nimble fingers undid the seat belt, and gently pulled the woman from the car. Spider-Man lifted her up, holding the one hundred twenty-something pound woman in both in arms with uncanny easy.

Spider-Man let her down gently. "Are you oka-" THWACK! "Ow! What was that for?" Spider-Man asked, nursing his throbbing cheek that the woman had slapped.

"Don't you dare touch me you Mutant!" She screamed before storming off.

"God! Some appreciation!" Spider-Man grumbled. He turned around and saw the many more people that needed help. He didn't do this for the gratitude.

"RRRRAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! Fucking little bug!" Roared Adrian Toomes. He flung the cracked helm across the dank apartment where it slammed against the peeling wallpaper and fell to the floor.

Adrian was still in the performance enhancing battle suit, standing in the middle of his small home. He breathed erratically and loudly. "How did that scrawny little shit beat me!?" Adrian demanded. "I'm one of the best Damnit! Well, Silver Sable is pretty good, and then there's Kraven, and Bullseye, GAH! I'm still one of the best! No way some little Mutant brat could best me! Next time I see him I'll slice that red belly of his open, and hang his entrails on Sierras Tower!"

"No there is no reason to hold that much of grudge, is there?"

Adrian turned around with his three claws spread wide, hungry to eviscerate anyone or anything. That was until Adrian saw the broad, towering frame of his employer.

"O-oh Mr. Fisk!" Adrian stuttered, standing upright, hands to his sides. "I wasn't expecting you."

"And I wasn't expecting to hear that a man in a bird suit was wreaking havoc in the city. I suppose we are both equally surprised." The King said with a chilling smile.

"Let me tell you something Adrian. I don't want you taking any unauthorized flights for you to satisfy your little violence fetish. You are to lay low until Saturday. Then, you will go to where my enemies are having their little get together. Do we have an understanding?" Wilson asked, his eyes pinning Adrian to where he stood.

"Yes sir." Adrian said, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Good. See you later." Wilson Fisk said, with that frightful smile plastered on his large face. He left the apartment, having to stoop down in the doorway to get out.

As the giant vanished down the stairs at the end of the hallway, Adrian collapsed to the floor, sweat pouring down his face. Even without superpowers, Kingpin was intimidating as Hell.

Peter sat in class Friday, autonomously taking notes, and turning pages, not really in tune with the rest of reality. The events of Thursday had really messed with Peter. That psycho had hurt so many people. A lot of them had been kids.

It took the ambulances seemingly forever to get to the scene. The roads leading to it had been blocked off. Something involving The Avengers and some, big name bad guy. Peter had had to swing some of the injured to the Hospital himself.

After Peter had helped everyone he could, he had left to look for The Vulture. For two hours he had scoured the area with no luck. Peter had resigned to defeat and returned home depressed. When he slept, he had nightmares about what he saw. Peter was going to find Vulture. And he was going to hurt him.

Peter looked up at the clock mounted on the white wall of the classroom. 2:55. School would soon let, out. Peter smiled. He and Gwen where going out tonight. Spider-Man could take a short brake.

"Class, I want you all to study up on the French/Polynesian War over the weekend. There will be a test!" Said Professor Monroe as he wiped away the chalkboard. The loud bell rang, signaling the students that the time of persecution had finally ended.

The room was filled with the noise of screeching chairs and shuffling papers. Students started chatting to each other about things of no true importance. Professor Monroe sighed at the sight as the children filed out of the room. He sat down in his desk chair. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out a small, clear orange vial. The label read: 100 mg. Caduet. Monroe, James.

Monroe pressed down on a small clear orange tab just below the white cap. At the same time, he unscrewed the cap and placed it on his desk. James Monroe pulled out a rectangular white pill and put it in his mouth. Gulping the pill down, Professor Monroe grimaced. Dry swallowing a pill is never pleasant.

In all his life, James Monroe was always grateful for one thing. Summer was almost here.

Peter was caught up in the frantic, rapid flow of students out of the large, under funded, government sponsored educational facility. Peter walked along side Harry, talking happily about his up coming date with Gwen.

"I hope I'll be able to make up for running out on her on our last date." Peter said, rubbing his arm.

"No kidding! Gwen's given you the, cold-shoulder ever since. Why did you run out anyway?" Harry asked with a wiry grin.

Peter bit his lip, trying to think of an answer. Well Harry, I am in fact a superhero and had to stop a crazy guy in a really nice sports car who was running from the cops! Yeah, that would be smart. "I had…diarrhea?"

Harry stared at Peter with cool eyes. "Dude, that was way to much information!"

"Harry!" Called a voice by the street. The two friends turned to see who was calling Harry. Standing straight up and dressed in a black Italian suit was Norman Osborn.

Harry became ridged as he, accompanied by Peter, walked over to his 'dear' father. "Dad." Harry said in a deadpan tone.

"Harry, is that anyway to great your father?" Norman asked with a smile.

"So, why are you here?" Harry asked.

"Can't a father pick up his son from school every now and then? So, would you introduce me to your friend?" Norman said, looking at Peter. Peter suppressed the urge to shudder. There was something in Norman Osborn's eyes that seemed…disturbing.

"This is Peter. I told you about him." Harry stated.

"Oh, yes. I remember now. I'm sorry about Uncle Peter." Norman said, offering condolences.

"Thank sir." Peter said, casting his eyes down to the sidewalk.

"Well Harry, are you ready to go?" Norman asked his son, opening the door of the limo, showing off the leather interior.

"Later Pete." Harry said to his friend as he climbed into the limousine. Norman closed the door, nodded to Peter as a gesture of goodbye, and got into the car opposite his son. The black vehicle pulled away from the curb and drove off.

Peter turned his attention back to getting home and readying for his date. Peter could do two things, go into an ally and swing home, or public transportation. As today was Peter's chosen day of normalcy, public transportation it was.

Hindsight is a very interesting thing, thought Peter as he stepped off the bus he had taken to Queens. A day of normalcy seems like a simple task to accomplish right? Well when you can lift hundred times your own weight, and shoot webs from your wrists, normalcy is very hard to get at. Especially when you choose to get on a bus in New York. You can see some pretty weird things on buses and subways. Something's odder than others.

Such as just three minuets ago, just before the bus reached his stop, they had picked up a guy that looked as if he just came from a ceiling insulation sale at Lowe's. And decided to wrap himself up in it. Yes, you can see some strange things on public transportation. It probably would have been better just to have dressed up as Spider-Man, and swung home.

Peter quickly made his way to the small house that seemed just a little bit smaller these days that he called home. He opened the door to find Aunt May sitting on the sofa holding a cup of coffee with a depressed face.

"Aunt May, what's the matter?" Peter asked, moving over to his Aunt.

"Oh, nothing you should concern yourself with dear." May said with a smile.

Peter gave her a long, questioning look, wanting the truth.

May frowned and said, "I got a call from Mr. Murdock. He said that even though my résumé was good, they weren't looking for employees right now."

"Oh man, I'm sorry Aunt May. But hey, there are plenty of jobs out there!" Peter told his Aunt, trying to consul her.

Aunt May gave Peter a smile. "Thank you dear. Oh, don't you have a date with Gwen tonight? You should get ready!"

"I was just about to go and take a shower. Me and Gwen will just take a bus, so you don't have to worry about driving us." Peter said, moving up the stairs to the bathroom.

Facility 37

Roger Paxton sat alone in a sterile cell, curled up on the floor in the fetal position. His eyes were sunken deep back into their sockets. Roger's lips were dry and cracked. His hair had fallen out in large clumps, leaving only spars patches on his scalp. Needle marks dotted his bare arms and legs.

His mind was empty now. Brain cells killed by repeated exposure too countless different chemicals. Those who preformed the tests were amazed by Paxton's ability to handle the repeated experimentation. Most people died after the second session.

A single door, leading into and out off the room opened with a popping sound. Miles Warren, dressed in his lab coat walked in with a twisted smile, holding a syringe filled with a black liquid.

"Hello Mr. Paxton. I am very impressed with you. Too have survived this long without even transforming or dieing even. I have decided you should be rewarded. You see this?" Warren said, raising the syringe. "This is a nice new formula I've come up with. I think you will make a good test subject."

Miles calmly marched over to the balled up Paxton. Pressing the tip of the needle to Roger's cerotic artery, Miles thrust the injector through his flesh and pressed the liquid into Paxton's system.

Miles quickly backed away as Roger Paxton began to twitch violently. He uncurled, screaming in pain and agony. His eyes rolled back into his head as he jerked about. Suddenly, from his mouth burst a thick blob of red protoplasm that spread out, incasing his body.

Paxton flipped up, the red ooze having covered his body like some sort of living suit. Its red flesh wriggled as thin tentacles burst from its back, arms and chest. Its large 'eyes' were milky, soulless white. Its hands were tipped in knife like claws. It faced Miles, wrath pouring from its suede-eyes. With a mighty leap, the creature went for Warren.

Quickly, Miles raised his other hand, which held a gun like instrument. Pulling the trigger, a dart shot out and buried itself in the creature that was formerly Roger Paxton. The creature toppled to the ground, screaming and withering in a whirlwind of pain.

Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. The creature lay motionless. Its flesh turned ashen and broke a sunder, revealing…nothing. The remnants of the creature broke down and turned to dust, leaving behind not but the distinct odder, of brimstone.

Miles sighed, shaking his head. "Duplicate Five-failure." The twisted doctor left the room, slamming the door shut with a second popping sound.

Stacy Residence-Apartment 71

Peter smoothed out the wrinkles in his white shirt as he waited for the door of Gwen's apartment to open. The Stacy home was relatively small, though floor space wise, it was larger then the Parker home. One floor, two bedrooms, one bath, and one kitchen comprised the apartment. It was just large enough to support a family of three.

Peter's keen ears picked up the faint sound of soft footsteps coming closer to the door. Too heavy too be Gwen, but to light to be George Stacy. Must be Gwen's mom. It had been a while since Peter had seen her.

The door opened quickly. In the doorway stood a rather familiar woman. I knew she looked familiar. Great. Gwen's mom is a bigot. It was true. The very woman Peter had pulled from the upturned car Friday now stood in front of the undisguised teen.

"Oh! Peter! It feels like forever since we last meet!" Anna Stacy exclaimed cheerily.

"I know. If you hadn't beet me over the head when I saved you. So, is Gwen ready?" Peter asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yes, think so. Gwen! You're boyfriends here!" Anna shouted back into the house.

"I'm coming!" Came Gwen's hurried reply. The beautiful blonde rushed out of her room and into Peter's view. She had done her hair up into a high ponytail with a pink scrunchie. She wore a red miniskirt and red blouse. Gwen had applied a light amount of pink lipstick, and a small amount of eyeliner.

"Hey Peter, you ready to go?" Gwen asked, cocking an eyebrow as she spoke.

"Yeah. Come on the movie starts soon." Peter said sheepishly.

Gwen smiled and rushed past her mother and out the door, grabbing Peter by the forearm. "Well, come on then Peter! See you latter mom!" Gwen waved goodbye to her mother as she and Peter disappeared into the elevator.

Gwen pressed the button for the first floor and stepped back, wrapping her arms around Peter's arm. As the elevator jumped a bit and slowly descended Peter cleared his throat.

"So, um Gwen. What do you think of Mutants?" Peter asked Gwen offhandedly.

"Hu? Why do you ask?" Gwen said giving her boyfriend a strange look. "Are you a Mutant?"

"N-no! I was just asking what you thought about Mutants!" Peter blurted hurriedly.

"I think they're all right." Gwen said shifting from one foot to the other. "But my Mom, well…she makes that guy, Kelly, look like a Mutant lover! Sometimes I think of dating one just to piss her off."

"But you'd have to dump me to do that." Peter said jokingly nudging her.

"Hmm, date the biggest geek in school, or a social outcast that nearly every person, religious institution, and government distrusts or hates. I think it's really the same thing." Gwen smiled, nudging Peter slightly more forcefully.

The elevator stopped with a mild jolt and the doors slide open. The young couple walked out into the lobby, laughing quietly.

The trek to the theater wasn't eventful. It was only a few blocks away and they talked to each other during the short walk. All the while, Peter was rolling over in his mind, whether or not to tell Gwen his little secret.

Peter would eventually tell Aunt May about his double life, but then there would be that unpleasant little thing about why he was doing this and that would most likely lead to a discussion about Uncle Ben. The wounds were still too fresh. The guilt still too strong. Bah! Peter could tell Gwen later. Right now, he just wanted to focus on the normal aspects of his life.

Peter and Gwen stopped in front of the ticket booth outside the movie theater. The tired looking man in the booth looked up at them and in a long, drossy voice asked, "What movie?"

"Two for Disturbia." Peter said, taking out his wallet.

The man pushed several keys on the computer and produced two tickets from under the counter. "Twenty dollars please."

Peter opened his wallet and grimiced. Thirty-one dollars was all that he had. Peter would have more. After buying the material for the costume, he still had several hundred dollars left over. He could have stuck it in his bank account, but he couldn't stomach even thinking about the money that had cost so much. Peter had donated the rest to charities anonymously.

And well, things weren't that great at his job, or really old job. Peter had come in late once and that was that.

Peter pulled out the twenty dollars necessary and pushed them under the glass window. The drossy man took the twenty dollars and put it in the cash box and slide the two tickets under the glass and over to Peter.

The couple walked into the cool theater, pleased that there was virtually no lines at the confection stand. Gwen got a small, unbuttered popcorn and small coke. Peter got nothing. After that, Peter had fifty cents left, and officially hated the theater.

Peter and Gwen enjoyed the movie, mostly Peter, as Gwen would occasionally latch onto him when something freighting occurred. After the movie, Peter escorted Gwen back up to her Apartment.

"I really liked our date Pete." Gwen said, kissing Peter lightly on the lips.

"Same here. I really like this part." Peter said, giving Gwen a kiss back. Suddenly, his spider-sense flared to life and he broke the kiss, just in time for George Stacy to open the door.

"I thank you for returning my daughter safely." George said in his base voice.

"Ah, no problem sir. See you later Gwen!" Peter said, waving to her as he rushed away.

"Oh daddy," Gwen said crossly to her father. "You scare away all my boyfriends like that."

George smiled. "Well then, my goal in life is a successes!"

Peter shivered as a cold breeze blew against his back. Peter held his empty wallet in front of himself. "I should have checked how much money I had left." Peter lamented. He couldn't take a bus home, nor did he want to, fearing what he would see this late.

"Well, might as well just swing home." Peter mumbled to himself. "Isn't like anybody's going to see me."

Peter slipped into an ally, slightly repulsed by the rancid smell from a dumpster. Peter pressed his hands against the brick wall, adhering his skin to the rough surface. With no effort whatsoever, he scaled up the one hundred foot high building.

Once on top, Peter aimed his upturned arm at a building across the street from him. Snapping back his hand and pressing the 'release valve' on his palm, the tiny spinnerets in his forearm went to work, spinning the strong silk. The web line fired from his wrist at high speed, and splattered on the other building, securing a hold.

Jumping forward, Peter sailed through the air at high speed. As he hit the apex of the swing, he let go of the web line and shot out another one to another building back across the street. Peter swung higher and higher above the street, increasing his speed as he went, simple by pumping his legs with each new line like as if he was on a swing set.

As Peter got closer to the small house in Queens, he latched onto the side of a building and dropped down into an ally, walking out, nonchalantly. He whistled a little tune he had heard on the radio on day, but never remembered the lyrics, or the name of the song.

Peter knocked on the front door of his house waited for Aunt May to open the door. He heard May approach the door before calling out "Who is it?"

"It's me Aunt May, Peter." Peter replied sleepily.

"Just a second." Peter heard the clicking of locks and the rattle of small chains. The door opened with a slight creek. Peter walked in, thanking Aunt May for opening the door.

"So Peter, how was your date?" Aunt May asked curiously.

"Pretty good." Peter said, smiling, while still thinking of his empty wallet.

All right! That's done! Just two more chapters too go in the Wings of Death arc. Please review!