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Ch 12:

Peter landed as quietly as a cat on the window pane of the building. This was the window that had been destroyed. Broken glass crunched under Peter's boots as he surveyed the room. It was one of the labs, but two large chairs sat in the middle of the area. They were both silent and abandoned, and Peter wondered for how long they'd been empty. Both of the chairs had metal clamps on the arms. One set of clamps look like they had been destroyed. Like something big and powerful had been restrained and then escaped. Something like what Flash had become? A feeling of dread grew in his stomach, worrying if he was too late. He couldn't dwell on that, though. He had to make sure, and he had gotten here quickly. But they had been quicker on some things. How long did it take them to shoot Gwen in the back and through her into the alley like she was nothing, and then leave? Did they dump her and then make a quick getaway? Or did they casually walk over her unconscious body as they swaggered out of there? A noise to Peter's left made him think otherwise. They hadn't left at all. They were still here, and they knew he would come. They were waiting for him. This was a trap, and he had fallen for it.

Peter just had time to dodge the man who was writhing in agony as he fought uselessly against something that appeared to be tar stuck to his skin. Just enough of his arms were visible to make it out. The dark blue star tattoo on his wrist. Peter's heart did a double thump. This was no coincidence. He was meant to see this. Peter's hands balled into fists as the man fell to the floor, completely consumed now. These sons of bitches had no shame. First Uncle Ben, then Gwen, and now this. That was it. He was done.

"STAND UP!" Peter shouted. "STAND UP, YOU MOTHER..." He didn't care that this man was covered in this goo. He didn't care that he seemed to be in agony. This piece of shit was going to stand up like a man and face him. Peter reached down, his hands inches from the man's body. If he had to force this piece of filth on his feet, he would. He paused when he heard moaning coming from the closet against the wall.

Peter scowled at the tar-covered man, but went to investigate. He pulled open the closet doors, and found Flash on the floor in a heap. He was shaking and sweaty, and his eyes rolled wildly in his head. Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He seemed unharmed at least. "Flash," Peter said.

Flash's eyes focused on Peter for a second, and then he squeezed them tight. "Gwen," He whispered, his teeth chattering so furiously his whole body shook. "Where's Gwen?"

"She's safe." Peter said, "She's been shot."

"I didn't know, Parker. This is the last thing I wanted..."

Peter jerked at the sound of Flash using his name. It was weird, him knowing. But there was no use in denying it.

"Guards came in. Told Osborn that a blonde girl that worked here was downstairs. They shot her because she wouldn't leave. I knew it was Gwen. They chained me to this chair... I wish it was me. I wish it was me and not her."

Peter hung his head. He took a deep breath. "I'm going to get you out of here, Flash."

Flash's eyes darted frantically. "That guy... where's that other guy?"

"He's by the window. Covered in some sort of..."

"No! That stuff... it's some kind of alien. It takes over your body! Parker, you've gotta get out of here, man. That guy... that guy is going to kill you."

Peter's head turned toward the window, only now to find the area vacant. He turned back to Flash. Maybe he had time to get him out of here. He'd deal with this alien-guy on his own. "Come on, get to your feet. Can you stand?"

Flash tentatively got to his feet. He seemed a little wobbly, but okay.

"Come on," Peter said, walking over to the window, "Hurry. I'll drop you down and out of here."

"Osborn is crazy." Flash insisted, "You don't know what he's done to that guy. He's was waiting for you, you have to go!"

Peter shook his head, "You first." Just as he said those words, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something was here. Something was behind him... just as he turned, he saw a flash of black and was knocked against the wall. He stared into an oval face of pure black, two large white pupil-less eyes. What trace of humanity had left this man, and a hand of inky black talons crushed Peter's neck. A mouth full of yellow teeth opened just below the eyes, and a long tongue flashed over them as it spoke, "The spider." It rasped.

Peter fought against the creature, finally raising his arm to clock it against the side of its head. It did nothing to loosen the grip on his neck.

Norman Osborn walked in nonchalantly, and smiled at the progress this creature had made. Two goons were behind him, their arms wrapped tightly against Flash's. He struggled uselessly.

"Pay back for all of the headaches you have caused me, Peter Parker." He said, "Your death will be at my hands. You shouldn't have become a thorn in my side. You shouldn't have stole from me. You should have realized that I run this city. OsCorp is the biggest name in New York. Always has, and always will be." He nodded over his shoulder at his goons. "Let's go."

Peter watched as they dragged Flash out of there. His eyes never once left Peter's. Peter hoped that Phil would stop them leaving. He hoped he had gotten Gwen the help she needed.

Peter punched this thing against its head again. That time it reeled a little. It was just enough for him to get his arm out and shoot webbing into its mouth. It dropped Peter and before he had a chance to move, it was on him again. Damn, this thing was fast. He was against the wall again in an instant, milimeters from where he had been before, but the creature struggled with its mouth, and Peter was almost free of its clutches. He looked up when he saw a flash of red and blue and heard the creature bellow in pain. It dropped to the floor for a second, but then jumped clear to the ceiling. Peter was greeted by a man in a red, white and blue suit, retrieving his round shield he had thrown at the creature.

They locked eyes for a moment, and the man in blue nodded a greeting. His eyes locked upwards to where the creature had been. It was empty.

Peter moved away from the wall, and jumped to the ceiling as well, trying to get an eye on the black mass. Whoever this man was, Peter was grateful for the help, but introductions would have to be made later.

A flash of red caught his eye, and he saw what appeared to be a big, red and yellow man fly in through the window. The light glinted off of him, and he was made out of metal or iron or something. He hovered close to the man in blue, small flames emitted from his feet.

"What have we got here, Captain?" The voice was loud and almost robotic, and Peter was sure he could hear AC/DC playing softly.

"Creature is in this room somewhere. Parker is up there." He pointed at Peter.

Peter was shocked that these people knew his name.

The man in red and yellow gave Peter a salute and hovered beside him. Peter turned his head, searching for the black creature. He'd deal with these men later. A flash of black caught his eye. The creature was bounding toward them from the right. Peter shot out his webbing and the man in red and yellow fired an energy burst from his hand. It hit the creature dead on, and it fell to the floor in a midst of webbing and smoke.

The three of them surrounded the creature. It was weird. The black ink had partially subtracted itself from its human host, and fought uselessly against the cocoon of webbing that encased it.

"What the hell is this?" The man in blue asked.

"Don't get too close, Cap. That thing looks like it needs a human host, and that human host is dead." The man in red replied. He turned to Peter, "Good aim on shooting that stuff that looks like cu-"

"LET'S NOT GO THERE!" The man in blue said loudly with a chuckle. He extended his hand to Peter, "Captain America."

"Way to be so formal, Rogers." The man in red and yellow said, lifting his helmet. "Tony Stark."

Peter felt at ease with these two. They had helped him, and pretty much saved his ass. He took off his mask, and gave a friendly wave, "Peter Parker."

The sound of squealing tires was heard down below followed by gun fire.

"Son of a bitch," Tony mumbled, his helmet slid down once more and he walked back over to the window. He saw Phil yelling into his ear piece and a black limo was flying through the crowded New York streets.

"Phil?" Captain America asked, hand to his ear.

"That was Osborn, wasn't it?" Tony asked, already knowing the answer. He made a move to go out the window, but Captain grabbed his arm. "No. We'll get Osborn later. There's too many civilians, and we've got this to deal with." He nodded to the dead man on the floor.

"I'll be discreet." Tony promised.

Peter's hands curled into fists. "Osborn's getting away?" He asked. No way. No way that son of a bitch...

"My kind of man. Let's go, kid." Tony said, thumping him on the back.

"I said no, and that's an order to both of you." Captain said.

"You know I don't follow orders unless they're my own." Tony retorted.

"Who the hell are you?" Peter demanded. "You have no idea what the bastard..."

"I know more than you think." Cap said gently, "I know he's hurt that girl. I know he took your friend."

"Then you know why I have to go after him." Peter said, looking Cap square in the eye.

Just then, Phil ran into the room, followed by about ten men. His gun was drawn, and he surveyed the room. Once he saw the cluster of men, casually talking by the window, he holstered his gun and dismissed his men. "Dammit! What the hell is going on with you guys? I can't reach none of you on the comm!"

"Phil?" Peter asked, flabbergasted. "You know these guys?"

"Yeah," Phil said with a smile, "Remember that team I told you about? This is only a few of them."