Disclaimer: Why do I even bother

Sorry this chapter took me so long to post, but figuring out all this college stuff right now is KILLING ME. I haven't had any time to write stuff I want to write :( all I've been focused on are freaking COLLEGE ESSAYS. I HATE WRITING ESSAYS but every FREAKIN COLLEGE wants FREAKIN ESSAYS that I don't want to FREAKIN WRITE. UGH. So yeah :) but I like this chapter so I hope you like it too. Yay!

Chapter 9

Peter had to warn the Avengers about this girl. She had incredibly scary and uncomfortably invasive powers that she was planning to use to kill them all.

But, what do yah know, after calling each one of their phones all over again and still receiving nothing but their stupid outgoing messages spoken in their stupid voices, Peter gave up. Even after what had happened that morning, Stark was still not answering him? This was infuriating. Chucking his phone on to a chair, Peter buried his hands in his pockets, spitting curses under his breath.

The sound of a familiar voice stirred May Parker from her slumber. She didn't remember lying down for a nap, but there she found herself, curled up on the couch with a heavy grogginess still hanging over her. With a yawn, she slowly sat upright, blinking sleepily until her eyes fell upon her nephew standing in the middle of the room.

"Oh, Peter dear!" she cried in disbelief. "You finally made it home!" Unsteadily she rose from the couch and wrapped her boy in a warm hug. Still somewhat distracted by his recent encounter with their magical and possibly murderous intruder as well as his team's unbelievable jerkiness, Peter jumped with a start from the sudden embrace. When he realized who it was, Peter gasped and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders.

"Aunt May! You're awake! Are you alright?"

She blinked confusedly, her arms still hugging him around the middle. "Of course, darling. Why wouldn't I be? I probably just laid down for a while and accidentally fell asleep." She raised her hands to gently cup his face. "I think that question's more appropriate for you, Peter! Where have you been? I thought that giant freak might've eaten you or something!"

Peter laughed apologetically, releasing his aunt's frail shoulders. "I'm fine, really. I crashed at Avengers Tower after the fight and somehow ended up sleeping for an entire day. I'm sorry for not answering your calls."

She sighed relievedly. "Well, I'm just glad you're okay. You had me really worried—although I suppose that's become the norm now, hasn't it?" She chuckled quietly under her breath, and Peter could tell she was unaware of the fact that she'd been hypnotized by a mid-morning trespasser. Perhaps Wanda had snuck up on her, or maybe she'd somehow wiped the memory from her mind. Either way, Peter decided the incident was best kept secret. No need to stir any more stress or paranoia in with the bucket-loads already existent in their household.

"I'll do what I can to minimize that," he reassured her.

"You do look pretty banged up, though," she noted, running her thumb along a cut on his cheek. She glanced down at his arm. "Bumps and bruises everywhere you look." Aunt May reached out and grabbed his wrist, which was encircled with purplish-green splotches. "You need to be more careful, dear."

Peter opened his mouth to reply, when something suddenly overcame him. A feeling of horror, of despair. He blinked his eyes, and for a split second he saw his aunt as she had been back in the nightmare: empty, decrepit, and eye sockets hollow of life. Her gnarled fingers were gripping his wrist, and the black sludge oozing from her body was crawling rapidly down her arm towards his hand. Terrified, Peter tore himself free of her grasp, stumbling back a few steps and gasping. He blinked again, and the hallucination was gone. His aunt, now back to her regular self, stared at him with a puzzled expression.

"Peter, honey? Are you alright?"

Shaky breaths escaped his lips. His eyes were wide, and his muscles were coiled. He clutched his wrist with his other hand, feeling his fingers shiver against his skin. Slowly realizing that he was back in reality and probably freaking out his aunt, he straightened his spine and forced himself to calm down. "W-what? Oh yeah, I'm fine. I just, um—I have a really bad bruise on my uh...my wrist. It hurt when you grabbed it. Sorry."

She looked him over suspiciously. "You sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

Noticeably unconvinced but unwilling to pry further, she sighed quietly. "Alright then. Would you like some pie? I can warm a piece up for you in the microwave."

Inhaling a shivery breath, he feigned a jubilant smile. "Pie sounds great."

With a grin, she spun around and headed for the kitchen. Peter was left standing in the living room, gripping on to a chair as sweat gathered along his brow. What the hell was that? he thought feverishly, blinking his eyes. It was some kind of freakish daymare or something. He rubbed at his temples, his forehead wrinkled deeply. Then he shook his head. Get a hold of yourself, Parker. You're probably just stressed from all the crap that's been going on. Your mind is playing tricks on you. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? I think you've earned it. He chuckled out loud. And now you're thinking in the second person. Great. You're going absolutely crazy. He decided he would use today to heal and regather himself after all of the insanity that had ensued over the last couple days. The fact that he was seeing things made it clear that he desperately needed it.

As his aunt took the pie from the refrigerator, the sound of the doorbell ringing chimed throughout the house.

"I got it," Peter called, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. He walked up to the door and swung it open, surprised by what he found on the other side.

"Hey, bro! How's it going?" Eddie Brock exclaimed, grinning widely with a box in hands. Peter immediately grinned back at him.

"Oh, Eddie! Hey man! What are you doing here?"

Eddie scoffed amusedly. "Why do you think, bro? I came to make sure you and your aunt were alright! Last time I saw you, your stupid ass was running off into a war zone to take pictures of a giant rhino monster that was tearing the city apart! I thought you got trampled to death!" He looked him up and down, chuckling. "And from the looks of you, that's almost what happened! What were you thinking, bro? Did you at least get any good shots of the thing?"

Peter laughed sheepishly. "Well, uh...no, not really. They were all too blurry, and after I was nearly squashed by a flying truck, I decided I'd best get out of there. It was stupid of me to try in the first place."

"Yes. Yes it was," he agreed, patting him on the shoulder. "But I'm just glad you're okay. How's your aunt, by the way?"

Before he could answer, May strolled up behind him, steaming pie slice in hand. "Who's at the door, Peter?" she asked, squeezing past him to see for herself. When her gaze fell upon the familiar face, she smiled joyfully. "Oh, Eddie! It's you!"

"Hello, ma'am. How are you doing?"

May gave Peter's arm a poke. "Peter, this young man helped me get home safely after you—when you went to take pictures. He's a truly wonderful person!"

He laughed bashfully. "There's no need for that ma'am, but thank you. It was no trouble at all." He held out the box in his hands for her to take. "Neither was baking these brownies. I hope you like chocolate, because I think I might've accidentally tripled the amount of chocolate chips needed for the recipe. I've never been a very good cook."

May clasped her face in her hands dramatically. "Oh, how thoughtful of you! You didn't have to do that! If anyone deserves something sweet, it's definitely you! Would you like a piece of pie?"

"Thank you, but I'm fine. I was actually planning on heading down to the Bugle in a little bit to turn in a couple of stories I've written over the past few days, and was wondering if Peter would like to join me."

Peter wrinkled his nose. "Really? I feel like it'd be such a waste to spend this perfect summer day waltzing into that stuffy office to get our asses chewed off by jolly ol' Jonah."

"Peter! Language!" Aunt May chastised harshly, but Eddie broke into a laugh.

"I figured we could make a few pit stops along the way. I'm in no rush, after all."

He rubbed at the back of his neck uncertainly. But after thinking it over for a bit, Peter figured, why not? He had nothing better to do besides laze around the house and watch crap TV or sit fuming over the Avengers, and a little walk around town might help him cool his head. He opened the door all the way and took a step back.

"Alright, I'll tag along. Give me a sec to change and grab my camera."

Just in case another attack from the super psychos happened while they were out and about, Peter made sure this time to put his entire Spider-Man costume on underneath his clothes. He was in no mood to relive the half-nude ass-kicking he'd taken last time. He returned to the entrance a couple minutes later, now sporting some casual jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Before squeezing through the doorway, Peter pecked his aunt on the cheek and slung his camera over his shoulder. Off the porch the two men strode, and as they began their long journey to the dreaded Daily Bugle building, trudging down the busy streets beneath the sweltering sun, Peter began to rethink his decision to join Eddie's little field trip to hell. Perhaps he really should've just stayed home.

"Wait, wait. You did what?"

"Yep. Completely totaled it. Brand spankin' new Mercedes, bright red. First day my dad brought that baby home, I rammed her into the back of a damn moving van. It wasn't too badly damaged, until the truck's entire load emptied right on top of her, which included like five gigantic dressers and a freaking piano. The whole car was smashed to hell, which left me with eight broken bones and a fractured wrist. Of course, it was the car my dad was more concerned about. But anyway, that's why we're stuck walking to the Bugle."

Peter was laughing so hard his sides ached. With one hand he hugged himself around the middle, and with the other he rubbed at his teary eyes. Chuckling as well, Eddie took a big bite of hot dog, shaking his head disappointedly.

"Just think, bro: you and me could be cruising down the street in that beauty right now, windows down, speakers blasting, hot chicks hopping in the back at every corner. But instead we're stuck tromping around like hobos, sweating our asses off."

"Well—ahaha—whose fault is that?"

"Hey, it wasn't my fault my old man bought the car only to stick her in the garage like his own personal monument to midlife crises. He was basically begging me to take it out for a joyride. Too bad I happened to be thirteen at the time and had never touched a steering wheel before in my life."

Puffing out his cheeks, Peter finally managed to catch his breath. "Wow. You're nuts, dude."

"True that," he agreed, then perked up. "Oh, and speaking of hot chicks, I gotta ask you something."

Peter narrowed his brow. "What's that?"

"That lady I saw leaving your apartment right before I got there—was that your girlfriend or something?"

Accepting his hot dog from the vendor, he snorted. "No. She's, uh...my cousin. Yeah. She was just visiting."

"Oh. She was super cute."

Peter shook his head fervently. "Nuh uh. Don't even go there. She's crazy. Like, weird crazy. Trust me."

Eddie sighed defeatedly. "Why do all the pretty ones have to be crazy? Or taken? Or both?"

Peter chuckled. "Well, mine's not crazy. But she's definitely pretty. And taken."

"Ooh," Eddie grinned, "so you do have yourself a lady then?"

"Yep."

Eddie elbowed him in the ribs. "Please. How long you two been together?"

"Almost a year."

"What? You're kidding me! I can't hold a girl for more than a month yet beanpole over here can keep one for an entire year? Teach me your ways, oh wise and majestic womanizer."

Peter laughed sheepishly, shoving him aside. "Trust me, I'm just as surprised by it as you are. She'd probably have it a million times better with someone else."

Eddie rolled his eyes flagrantly. "Oh, great. You're one of those guys. All innocent and humble and gentlemanlike. Go figure." He finished off the rest of his hot dog in one big gulp, giggling in a muffled voice. "Well, if that's your big secret, I'm afraid I'm all lucked out. I don't think I can pull off that sort of character. Guess I work out too much."

"Says the guy who brings my aunt brownies and calls her 'ma'am'."

He snorted amusedly. "Okay, yeah. But she's a sweet old lady. I can be a gentleman to sweet old ladies. The age-range of women I'm trying to attract, however, are all intimidating, blood-sucking vampires. So naturally, I go all defensive when I'm around them and end up putting off this cool-guy-who-doesn't-give-two-flips kind of vibe, which doesn't exactly sit well with the majority of them, if you catch my drift."

Peter bit into his chili dog hungrily. "Haha, I guess not."

"Oh, but enough about me and my miserably failing love life," he continued, wrapping his arm around Peter's shoulders as they continued walking down the sidewalk. "I wanna hear more about this supposed girlfriend of yours, bro. What's her name, huh? Who is she?"

Peter couldn't help but smile at the thought of her. "Her name's Gwen. Gwen Stacy."

"What's she like? Is she hot?"

"She's beautiful. Her eyes are this insanely pretty color—like greenish bluish, but with a tiny hint of gold. Her hair is bright blonde, and she has these tiny adorable freckles on her nose. And she's smart. Way smarter than me. She's ranked number one at my high school. And she's so kind and supportive and understanding but also sarcastic like me and—"

"Ahem," Eddie coughed, grinning. "Yeah, okay. I think I get the picture, loverboy."

Peter felt his face flush. "Oh. Heh, sorry. She's really just awesome."

"You thinking of popping the question soon?"

He went red. "I'm seventeen years old, Ed."

Eddie burst out laughing. "I'm just teasing yah, bro, haha. Although by the way it sounds, you two are probably heading to hitchville soon enough. Whenever that happens, I could ask my father to wed you, him being a Catholic priest and all. I doubt he'd pay anything I say attention long enough to carry it out, though."

Peter eyed him curiously. "Is your dad a jerk or something?"

A look of intense pain suddenly consumed the young man's eyes. Then he quickly blinked it away, and gave a small shrug. "Naw. That's just how he is. Ever since Mom died, he's been distant. Can't really blame him for that."

The cheerful mood shifted to serious in an instant, and Peter dropped his gaze, scratching at the back of his head. But after a long stretch of silence, he finally spoke up. "When...when did that happen? Your mom?" he asked carefully.

To his surprise, after a moment in thought, Eddie chuckled despondently. "Well, uh...when I was born, actually. Or rather, because I was born. She died giving birth to me." He sighed heavily, staring up at the sky with his hands folded behind his head. "Guess it makes sense for the old man to hold a grudge against the thing that killed his wife."

Peter shook his head. "Ed, you can't really think that—"

"No, I know that," he interjected, dropping his fists to his sides. "Every day, I see it in his eyes. He looks at me and sees a monster, a mistake. He wishes with every fiber in his body that I had never been born, and would gladly have killed my ass if it meant keeping my mom alive." He turned and glared at him desolately. "Trust me: after living with a father who hates your guts for nineteen miserable years, you figure out why pretty damn quickly. And he never let's me forget it."

Stopping at a streetlight, the two stood beside each other in silence. Taxis and motorcycles sputtered by, belching exhaust into the air that made Peter cough. Then, running his fingers through his hair, Eddie released a weary sigh.

"Sorry. That came outta nowhere."

Peter laid his hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. I get it. I mean, my aunt doesn't treat me badly or anything, but I know what it's like to feel guilt over lost relatives."

Eddie glanced at him, his brow knitted together. "You missing parents too? Is that why you're staying at your aunt's place?"

Peter nodded solemnly. "Yeah. Plane crash killed them both when I was little. They worked at Oscorp. They were running away with dangerous biochemical research that they didn't want to end up in the wrong hands, and because they wanted to protect me. Unfortunately, they paid the price for it."

Eddie shook his head slowly back and forth. "Damn. I'm sorry, man. That sounds like something out of a James Bond movie. Your parents must've been total badasses."

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "Thanks. I'm sorry about yours, too. I hope you can work stuff out with your dad eventually."

"Haha, yeah. Eventually." He hugged him around the shoulders as they walked, grinning earnestly. "Thanks, bro. Really. I haven't had someone to vent to in a while. You're like a skinny, dorky version of the younger brother I've always wanted."

Peter snorted impertinently. "And you're like the loud, obnoxious older brother that I've never wanted."

Eddie laughed authentically and gave him a playful shove, making Peter nearly stumble off the sidewalk as he laughed along with him. "Well too bad, bro. You're stuck with me for as long as we're stuck in this asscrack of a job."

Peter groaned. "Speaking of which, I can see the gateway to hell coming up ahead. I guess it's kind of a gift that you don't have a car, or else we would've gotten here way sooner. And I wouldn't have gotten to eat this wonderful chili dog that will probably have me glued to the toilet for the next three hours."

"Wow. Captivating words spoken by a true playboy. No wonder this Gwen girl is absolutely enthralled by you."

The two laughed like idiots all the way down the street, feeling like old friends despite having only met a few days ago. Peter never realized how nice it was to have someone besides his two favorite women and the Avengers to talk to, someone who knew him and liked him for just being Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. Somehow he found Eddie to be more relatable to than anyone else he had spoken to in a long time, and he felt he had found himself a real friend in him. And from the looks of it, Eddie felt the same way.

Not three minutes later, the two found themselves standing in the bleak office on the top floor of the newspaper building. They stepped out of the elevator, and almost instantly regretted it.

"Parker! Brock! Front and center, now!"

Peter and Eddie shared a look of dismay, then sighed unsteadily. Jaws tight and muscles stiff, the two boys edged across the room, slipping nervously through the bustling crowds of busy workers, until they both stood before their terror-ensuing boss, the devil himself. They forced themselves not to shiver.

J. Jonah Jameson had his back to them. He sat in his throne with only the back of his head and his hand with a cigar between the fingers visible to them. Ribbons of smoke drifted lazily towards the ceiling. After lifting the stogie to his lips, he spun around to face them, a triumphant sneer splayed along his lips.

"Well done, boys."

Silence. After taking a moment to process his words, the fact that an actual compliment had dared trespass across their boss's lips, they both blinked in shock.

"Pardon?"

"I said well done boys. Damn, you two going deaf?"

The teens were incredibly taken back. They glanced at each other confusedly.

Jameson grabbed a newspaper from his lap and slammed it against the desk, causing both of them to flinch. "That story about the Shocker hooligan you two covered for me? Slapped that thing on the front page of our last issue. And get this: we sold out all our papers in less than an hour! Can you believe it?"

Eddie scooped up the paper timidly, examining the front page with interest. "Whoa. Really? That's insane."

Peter was still very puzzled by all of this. Mainly by the fact that Jameson had actually said something to him that didn't include some unconventional threat to his life, but also by another odd factor of this situation. "Wow. Has, uh...has that ever happened before?" Peter asked skeptically. "I mean, we've covered a lot of super villain and superhero stuff recently, but since when did that sort of thing start stirring this much attention out on the street?"

Jonah grunted amusedly. "Since that pathetic web-crawler was finally exposed for the useless masked perp that he is. Take a looksy."

Peter glanced at the newspaper in Eddie's hands, and immediately his heart plummeted. Sprawled across the front page in big bold letters, it read: SPIDER-MAN HUMILIATED BY MURDEROUS PSYCHOPATH, UNABLE TO STOP HIM FROM WREAKING HAVOC ON MIDTOWN. Underneath the headline was a picture of Spider-Man collapsed against the road as Shocker marched towards him, aiming his gauntlets at his vulnerable form. On the bottom left corner in small letters, he could see his name, Peter Parker, labeled as credited to the photo. He snatched the paper from Eddie's hands, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What? That's not what happened. I was there; Spider-Man defeated that guy. This is inaccurate."

"Inaccurate my ass! Did you even read the story? That red and blue idiot let the freak get away! He could still be out there blowing up the city as we speak!"

"I was there when it happened, bro," Eddie explained, pointing at the column. "I wrote the story. That spider guy was almost killed by the Shocker dude, and then he let him escape before the police arrived. He only ended up getting in the way and causing more destruction during the fight."

"The police suck," Peter murmured crossly, "and at least he tried to help stop him. You guys are acting like he caused all this."

"The psycho was asking to fight Spider-Man!" Eddie retorted. "It's masked freaks like him that draw out bad guys who hurt people! So, yeah, it all sort of was his fault."

"And after the other battle he lost between that rhino dude and the bird man, his favor in the public eye has dropped over 25%," Jonah jeered savagely, eyeing a poll chart he'd provided at the bottom of the page. "It warms my heart that people are finally seeing that spider freak as I have always known him to be: nothing but a damn menace."

Peter scoffed offendedly. "What do mean? He defeated those two morons and left them for the police."

"Apparently they got away before the police got there. Spider-Man really needs to learn how to restrain bad guys properly."

Immediately he was struck with shock. Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he couldn't let it show on his face. How was this possible? So both of those freaks are still out there, even after all the crap I went through to defeat them? If anyone was to blame for this, it was the damn police! He had heard the sirens coming right before he'd left. Both the Rhino and the Vulture had been out cold, and they had both been well restrained; he was sure of it. How could they have possibly escaped in such a short time?

"I didn't expect all this to upset you so much, bro," Eddie said in a puzzled voice. "You a big fan of Spider-Man or something?"

Peter swallowed and forced a careless shrug. "Uh, no. Not really. I don't know. I mean, I think he's okay. I think he's trying to do the right thing."

"I say he and the rest of those Avenger dudes should leave this crap for the police to handle. It seems they only end up causing more problems, yah know?" He threw up his hands innocently. "But hey, that's just me. Everybody's got their own opinion on this 'superhero' stuff."

"I agree with you one hundred percent, kid," Jameson growled with a smirk. "It's about time idiots like Spider-Man were put in their place." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "And after listening to the voice of the public, that truth is finally becoming the people's vote."

Peter bit back how frustrated he was on the inside. Two little mishaps later, and his city had already turned on him? Didn't they remember how he'd almost killed himself to save all of their lives? Didn't anyone remember?

"But anyway," Jameson sighed, sliding a pair of envelopes across the ashy wood. "Here yah go, boys. Unfortunately, I gotta give credit where credit's due."

Eddie scooped up the envelope and tore it open in an instant. Inside he found a check, and when he read the number swirled across the paper in crisp black ink, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "W-whoa! This is crazy! Are you serious? This is all for me?"

"Quit your screeching boy," Jonah snarled, "or I'll snatch that check right out of your grubby paws and rip it to pieces! Just take it and skedaddle before I change my mind."

"Oh, yes. Right. Thank you, sir!" He grabbed Peter's envelope and shoved it against his chest, startling him a bit. "Here bro, take it! Your aunt's gonna be stoked when she gets this!"

Peter curled his fingers around it warily. He knew how much cold hard cash was needed in the tiny Parker family, but he didn't know if this was something he wanted to do—make money off of degrading his public image. Although he'd been doing it for a long time now, it had never been this direct or substantially self-deprecating. But eventually, the thought of what extra money could do to make his aunt happy outweighed his discomfort towards the situation, and he slipped the check into his pocket. He'd just have to start doing more small-scale good around the city, and turn in less pictures of him getting his ass whooped and more pictures of him kicking butt and taking names. Hopefully this regression back to New York hating Spider-Man was just a phase that would be resolved soon enough.

"Good work, boys," Jonah said with a grin, taking a drag from the cigar in his right hand and shooing them away with his left. "Bring me more stories like that, and there'll be plenty more where that came from."

"Yes sir!" Eddie nearly shouted, grabbing Peter by the arm and dragging him towards the exit. "Come on, bro!"

When they had entered the elevator and were making their way back down, Eddie let out a whoop of joy.

"Man, can you believe it? If we keep this up, we'll both be loaded by the end of the summer!"

Peter tried to return his enthusiasm but was failing miserably. "Yeah Ed. Yeah. It's uh...it's great. Real great."

"I hope that more freaky stuff happens so you can get more pics of Spider-Man getting beat up and we can make more money!"

He frowned uneasily, his hands shoved in his pockets. "You shouldn't hope for stuff like that to happen, Ed. Lots of people have gotten hurt over the last week."

He shook his head. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I know," he agreed unconvincingly, a grin spread wide across his face. "Still, some more action from all those whack jobs wouldn't hurt our wallets, y'know?"

Peter stared solemnly at the grimy floor beneath his feet. He didn't want to sound like a jerk, but also couldn't bring himself to agree with him. None of this felt right.

"I guess. Whatever you say, man."

Once outside, Eddie gave him a pat on the back and took off down the street. "I told yah this would be worth the trip! I can't wait to blow this paycheck on a bunch of stupid crap! See yah later, bro! Call me if anything newsworthy happens!"

Forcing an uneasy smile, Peter waved him away. Eddie went skipping merrily down the street until he disappeared from view, leaving him alone in front of the Bugle building. The sun was just beginning to conjure an orangey hue above the horizon, and the roads were busy with rush hour traffic. The air was acrid with the many unsavory stenches of the city, and Peter's teeth were clenched tight inside his mouth. More and more crap had been stacked on top of itself that day, adding new levels to his already boiling anger. Anger at his friends, anger at himself, and anger towards his city. He needed some way to dispel this anger, to aim it towards something productive, lest he end up punching the daylights out of the first person who haplessly passed him by. Peter reached into his back pocket and pulled from it his Spider-Man mask, which leered back at him with its large, white eyes. By now, all of his injuries from his previous battles were considerably well-healed, but even if they hadn't been, he wouldn't have let that stop him.

Eddie had been right about one thing: he needed something vigorous to happen right now, something lively. He needed something to let loose on before he lost it himself.

Action. Peter could use a little action.

All this crap I'm going through better be worth it. If I don't get into Baylor, I'm gon be sad. :( Also, if it wasn't clear, I am not a dude. As in, I'm a female, a lady, a non-male. So this is my general assumption of how men who are friends communicate:

"Hey dude bro man dude bro wassup bro man dude bro bro?"

"Eeyyy yo my main bro dude man bro bro dude man bro male pronoun what be shaking maannn bro?"

So there's that :) Anyhoo, hope you liked it, review maybe, yada yada. In all seriousness though, I think I like the next chapter even more than this one. More action, as Peter was saying. Yippeeee