Showdown
I would like to thank you all for waiting patiently for this next update. Let's just say that the only thing predictable about life is that it is unpredictable. There will only be one more update, and then Starting Over will be finished. Like I have said before, I am always taking requests for what my readers want to see. So, enough ramblings and enjoy. Take it Easy, -N.
The darkness was soothing. It was protecting, all encompassing, quiet and loud, all at the same time. It gave him peace, and let him focus. All that had happened up to this moment, every sensation, every word, his life now lay out before him to examine it. Before he had begun this, 'crusade', he had never really taken a life, at least not intentionally. Now though, he had killed, marked, and tormented those who stood against him. He had even died and come back to life with only scars to show for it.
The shadows seemed to move, and he knew she was there, she was always there. The darkness was a part of him now, it only made since that nothing could hide from him in it. She didn't speak, and he was grateful. She knew what he was doing; how he had isolated himself the entire day, and now, night.
Peter had originally planned on just calling the Bugle, telling them that he was feeling under the weather and that he wouldn't come in. But that didn't feel right. The people there were as much a part of his family as his Aunt. He deserved to see them for what might be the last time. When he entered, he went straight for Jonah's office. He didn't acknowledge anyone who shouted his name. At the moment, there was only one person who he wanted, no, needed to see.
Jonah was talking with Robbie when he came in. He gave the man a nod, and turned to his boss. "Jameson, a word." If he was surprised when Peter made a demand, he didn't show it. He only motioned for the other person to leave, and when the door slammed shut, he raised a hand to the seat in front of his desk.
"What do you want Parker?" He was surprised at how cold the boy was acting. Even when the kid was in a piss-poor mood, he showed the emotion. Now though, it was like looking at a pile of bricks. No emotion, just sitting and waiting for something to happen.
"Something big is going to happen tonight." He barked out a laugh at what the kid said.
"Parker this is New York. Something 'big' happens 'every' night."
"This is something else altogether." When Peter slammed his fist into the desk, causing the cigar in the ashtray to hit the floor, he raised a single eyebrow. He didn't keep the growl out of his voice. Sure, he yelled at people, but he was seldom angry. Here was a person he had grown to somewhat respect, throwing a tantrum like a four year old.
"What is burning your ass boy?" He stooped to retrieve his smoke, only slightly appeased that it wasn't damaged when it hit the ground.
"This is something that could make 9/11 look like a Fourth of July parade." He was raising the smoke to his lips when he spoke. If the kid was willing to make that kind of comparison, then it had to be truly bad.
"What is it kid?" Peter knew he had to lie then. He had the man's attention, but needed to know how to tell him, without actually telling him.
"It's Spider-Man Jonah," he heard the mumbled swear but continued. "He came to me the other night. He told me something was coming and that if he managed to stop it, that he would truly be saving this city. But he needs your help."
That time, Jameson let out the laugh. He knew it was petty, but he couldn't help it. He had seen that damned wall crawler save the city, along with the people who worked for him countless times, needs him. It was too damned funny! "Kid, I don't care how bad the trouble is, I'll die before I-."
"What if would've saved your wife and kid?" It was a low blow, he knew it, and Jameson knew it too. He needed the man to be on his side. Right now, the old goat needed to put his feuds with Spider-Man aside so that the city would get to see another sunrise.
"That was dirty boy."
"I know that you hate him sir. I know that you hate all people who run around in masks, but if you don't help him, hundreds if not thousands will die. So, I'll ask again, would you help him if it would've saved your family?"
"You know damn well that I would have." He dropped the tobacco into the ashtray, suddenly not wanting it. When he turned his chair to face the city, Peter noticed that his voice had gone from raw and emotional to gruff and business-like, as if he were trying to get control of the situation again. "So, what does the web head need me to do?"
Peter sighed and nodded to the man's back. He had essentially agreed, so now he just needed to pull this mission off, and he would be able to move on with his life. "He wants you to be here tonight. He said that he would be bringing you something that had to be made public immediately. He said that he could have gone to anyone, but that he wanted you to do it. Will you do that boss?"
"I suppose he expects me to just cancel all my plans at wait at my desk like some housewife hmm?" Peter laughed then, watching the man spin slowly around with a smirk. He nodded and rose, "I think that might have been what he was hoping for, yeah." He walked out of the room, closing the door before Jonah could really begin to speak. The hard part was over, now he had to go home and call his aunt before he began his focus.
He felt it was dark enough now, and solemnly, walked to his closet and began to dress. He pulled each part of his uniform on slowly, only stopping for a moment to adjust the ceramic plate that sat over his chest. He thought the pain was from the plate not settling, but after the adjustment, he knew it wasn't that. In the dark, he could hear his aunt's voice echo through his mind.
It was only a little after nine in the morning when he got back home and called her. While he waited, he counted the rings. On the third, he heard the voice on the end, and could help but smile when she answered. "Peter dear, how have you been?"
"Fine Aunt May, I just wanted to let you know that I've been thinking of you." He listened to her coo on the other end of the phone and smiled. It was funny that even after all these years; he could make her believe that he was still normal.
"Are you sure dear? Normally you call me on Sundays."
"I'm fine, but," he was nervous now. Peter was almost certain that she knew about MJ by now. Still, if she didn't, she deserved to know. At the very least, she'll still want to send the girl a Christmas card. "Me and MJ, we-."
"I know dear, her mother told me a while ago." The line was silent for a moment then. "I am slightly disappointed that you didn't tell me sooner though."
"I know, but I just didn't want you to-."
"Worry? Peter, I am stronger than you give me credit. But, I know my Peter, and I just know that you'll have already met someone else, didn't you?" He could feel himself blushing. Aunt May was many things, subtle wasn't one of them.
"I did. She's really nice."
"Well, when do I get to meet her?"
"Soon Aunt May, soon."
"Well good," she pulled away from the phone then, and he could hear a distinctive voice in the background. He heard her laugh, and couldn't help but grin a little himself. If she was happy, why shouldn't he be? "Peter, I have to go now." She was whispering then. "I have a date."
"When do I get to meet him?" He couldn't resist turning the table, but knew she wouldn't take the bait.
"As soon as I meet your mystery girl." The voice was speaking again, and he heard a gentle slap followed by his aunt's laugh. "Call me again Sunday Peter."
If I'm still here. "Sure, Good-Bye Aunt May. I love you."
"I love you too Peter."
He finished dressing at that point, and walked to the window. Opening it, he stared up at the sky, mesmerized by the stars. Then, he flew back onto his floor, crushed by a familiar body. He hadn't smelled her coming up the side of the building. But as she lay down on top of him, he was bathed in her scent. It was a comforting thing, but he didn't want her there, he couldn't have her there, not now. "Felicia, I thought I said that I wanted you to wait back at your place for me."
She laughed then, and he absorbed the sound she made. He could only describe it as being throaty with the barest hint of a ring, basically, unique and wholly her. As he felt her recline against him, he had to resist the urge to wrap his arms around her. He looked into her eyes, and saw the worry that was there. As playful as she acted, he knew she didn't want him to go. "What can I say," she grinned then, and reached for his mask. "I'm a bad girl."
Peter gripped her hand, stilling its movement towards the bottom of his mask. "Felicia," it wasn't a warning. It was a request.
"Come on Spider, stay here with me." She rocked back off of him and onto her knees. "I'm much more fun, and I can think of things that you can do which will be much more 'enjoyable'." As she finished, she ran her hands over her body, and he had to fight the urge to stay.
He stood up then, shaking his head while lifting her up off the ground. "Felicia, I may have never played," he carried her over to his bed. "But never before the big game." He looked at her pout and forced himself to feel nothing. He had to pull this off, or he would never be able to relax again. If he let Fisk get away with this, it would be only a matter of time before he attacked again, and at that time, someone he cared about would die.
He looked at the bag she carried and tried to change the subject. "Did you bring my laptop?" She nodded, and after pulling it out, turned the screen to face him. He could see the fat man, and knew that it wasn't a loop. It was fresh footage that was still recording. Good. He gave her a single nod of his head. "Felicia," he turned away from her and walked to the window. "I will come back." He dove out the window and she turned to face the screen. He better, she thought.
"Or I'll kill him myself."
When Peter reached the building, he immediately found the vent he had entered previously. Wordlessly, he felt Alpha adjust his sight. As he crawled upwards to the man's office, he was struck by how silent his journey, hell, how quiet his mind had been. 'Why are you being so quiet?' Peter heard her huff out a breath, and it surprised him that she sounded almost bored. No reason, I've just resigned myself to my fate. He stopped for a moment, and wanted to look around for her, wishing for her to actually appear beside him. 'Resigned, aren't we being a little melodramatic'. Yes, resigned. You are going to fight this man, and the possibility that you are going to die is quite high. I feel that what this man has in mind for your body would be beyond my abilities to heal. I also have this feeling that when you die, then I am going to die, and hopefully stay dead. 'Aren't you just a bowl of sunshine?'
She didn't answer him and he wasn't expecting her to. She was okay with dying, and to an extent, so was he. He had said his goodbyes, and hopefully, he would be saying his hellos in a few hours at the most. When he reached his 'mine field', he was grateful that the explosives were still disarmed. As he approached the vent where the camera sat, he waved into the lens, hoping it would make the woman on the other end smile, maybe even laugh.
As he pried the vent cover open, he grasped its edge and lowered it to the floor, thanking all the powers in the universe that it didn't make a sound when it touched the tiles. Next, he leapt to the far door, and was again grateful that he managed to land softly. With a small hiss of webbing, the camera was secured to the oak, and he proceeded to crawl down slowly, taking the time to seal the opening. Thirty minutes starting now, move quickly Peter, the clock is ticking. He didn't need her to tell him he was on a time frame now, but it still made him glad that even though she was okay with dying, she still wanted to stay alive.
Finished, he stood up and proceeded over to the desk, he listened then, and heard Mozart playing over some hidden speaker. As the symphony reached its crescendo, he was at the desk. He could see the man's eyes in the reflection of the repaired glass. Closed and content, it wouldn't surprise him if he was actually sleeping. Gently, he reached out, and grasped the phone that sat on the man's desk. With a quick jerk, the phone line snapped, and he sprung from the floor onto the wall. Raising his hand, he slammed his fist against the plaster, watching the man jump to his feet while he screamed, "Candy-Gram for Mongo. Candy-Gram for Mongo."
He watched as Fisk stood, chest heaving as he looked around for where the voice was echoing from. When his eyes settled on Peter, he had to resist the urge to wave. 'What the hell,' he raised his hand and waved, jumping from the doors to the windows over his desk. "How ya doing Mongo?"
He watched as Fisk raised his hand to his face and rubbed the mark there. It had healed nicely, Peter thought. It wasn't dark red, or a sickly gray color, just a lighter tone of normal skin. "What do you want here?" Peter rocked back onto his heels, and rubbed his chin. He was so tense; he just needed to have some fun before the shit really hit the fan.
"I told you that I would be back if you ever tried something against me again, you remember that right?" He watched as the man faced the windows over the city, and sneered.
"My dear boy," he noticed that Fisk's voice was calm, almost casual. "I correct me if I am mistaken, but I have only wronged you twice. True, I did contact an associate to, shall we say, 'meet' with Miss Hardy, and yes, I did request that Bulls-Eye attempt to end your miserable existence. But other than that, I have made no recent attempts on your life, other than those I have recently mentioned, obviously."
Peter quirked his head to the side, and again leapt, this time settling over the private bar. Looking down, he noticed a bottle, and with a blast of webbing, pulled it up to himself. "Ya know, you have a much better selection than I do." He dropped the bottle, and smiled when he saw the man's eyes narrow. "True, you haven't come after me a third time, but instead, you came after the city, and that well, that I take personally." He watched as Fisk returned to his chair, and after a moment, he turned to face him.
"What wrong have I done against my city?"
"First of all, its my city, and secondly, I'm talking about a shipment of QNB, care to explain?" It pleased him slightly to watch something like shock pass through Fisk's face, if only for a moment.
"A man has to make money, that's all I do. I pay people to do things for me, and they pay me for my assistance to them." He stopped and looked up at Peter pensively. "Although lately, I feel that my finances are hemorrhaging where you are concerned."
"While we're on the topic, why do you send people after me? You're a big, strong, healthy, albeit overweight man, why haven't you personally come after me? I mean come on Bulls-Eye, Doc Ock, The Chameleon, Scorpion, Mysterio, why pay all these guys instead of taking care of me yourself?"
He had half expected it, but was still surprised when the man let out a quiet chuckle. "My boy, I pay them because they are dumb enough to believe they can beat you. When criminals slow down and activity lessens, and believe me, it does have its lulls, I find myself in need entertainment, so when they fight you, I enjoy watching you take them apart. True, if one of them were able to somehow defeat you, I would have been ecstatic, but when they fail, it gives me pleasure. I know that even when they are released, or more likely escape from custody, they will be back to try and fight you and I will have more entertainment"
"Dude, you're one sick puppy, you know that right?"
"My boy, as enjoyable as this banter has been, may I ask what you are doing here?" Peter slowly slid down the wall. As he approached the desk, he began to speak again.
"I want to know where the QNB is, and I want you in prison." Fisk placed his hands together, and leaned forward onto the desk.
"I will give you one of your demands. The QNB is at my storage facility at pier 41, dock number 8. The crates that contain it even list the bio-agent as 'vaccines'. As for your second request, I'm afraid that prison is quite unacceptable. You see," he rose and walked around the desk, until all three hundred pounds of him towered over Peter. "I find prison at the very least, uncouth. The clothing is uncomfortable, the living standards inadequate, and the food truly deplorable. So you see, simply I have no desire to go." As he spoke, Peter suddenly realized just how much smaller he was than the man before him, and maybe how he was just a little too cocky going in here. "Now, my boy, I feel that you are right. I should have come after you myself ages ago. Going after Miss Hardy, your 'woman' I presume, was ungentlemanly, and for that I apologize. Therefore I say we end this now," he turned his head to the side as Peter nodded to him. "What do you say to that?" His voice dropped from a low mumble to a deep growl.
"What are we waiting for?" Peter was already side-stepping the massive fist as it crashed into the marble desk, breaking off the corner as if it were ice. As the man's weight leaned over his arm, Peter struck. Each blow seemed to do nothing; it was like hitting solid stone. He watched as Fisk seemed to just stand still and take the abuse he was giving. He swung his fist one last time, feeling a small amount of triumph as the man's head tipped back with the force.
"My Boy," he felt a small amount of horror build as Fisk brought a hand to his face and rubbed the area he struck almost absentmindedly. "I case you have forgotten," he reached out with both arms, wrapping Peter and pulling him close and squeezing. "I told you before that only five percent of my body weight is fat; here is what 285 pounds of pure muscle is capable of." Peter tried to move, but there was nothing he could do. Every breath he released just caused the pressure to tighten around him. "You were beaten before you came here," he spoke closely now, as if he were telling him a secret. "When I finish with you, I will hunt down Miss Hardy, and will take great pleasure in the pain she will suffer. Now, die knowing that her suffering was utterly and completely your fault."
It was a last ditch effort, he knew. His only hope and he was wishing that he could get lucky enough to pull this off; a slim chance that it would throw the fat man off balance enough that he could get loose. Swinging his head back, Peter slammed it forward and laughed when he felt the cartilage in the man's face shatter. When the pressure eased, he pulled himself free, and slammed his hands into the sides of the man's head. Fisk was bellowing in pain now, but he knew he had to move fast. He grabbed the giant, and slammed him against the glass. After three hits, it broke, and forcing his bulk through the opening, Peter pressed the man's neck down against the jagged edge.
Abruptly, the noise stopped, and Fisk tried turning his face to look at him. "Do it boy, kill me." Peter pressed down, smiling as he watched a line of crimson form against the pale skin and run down the glass.
"No," he threw Fisk back, watching as he slid into the remains of the desk, slowly, he stood over him, and stared. "I'm not like you. As much as I want to kill you, I want you to die in prison, with everyone knowing what kind of monster you are." Fisk didn't see the boot as it crashed into the side of his face. When the body slumped against the floor, he waved to the camera, and ran to the wall. Quickly he grabbed the camera, and with a salute to the crumbled behemoth, dove through the vent and crawled to the exit.
"I feel like singing, don't you?" Peter was rather hurt when Alpha didn't respond, but didn't let it get to him. If anything, she always needed to have the last word. When he reached his exit, Peter dove off the edge, heading back to his apartment, and what was sure to be an extremely angry slash excited woman. That was when she decided to voice her feelings about the encounter. We got lucky, don't be stupid now. Also, don't forget, the plan is only a third done. "Yes dear."
Jonah Jameson still wasn't sure why he had agreed to what Parker had asked. He looked at his wrist, and with a groan saw that it was almost 3 am. He still couldn't figure out what the kid wanted him to do. All he knew was that he had agreed to have a meeting with a man he despised with every fiber of his being, and was now stuck waiting on said person. "If that guy doesn't get here soon, I'm firing your ass Parker." He was reaching for his zippo to light his burnt out smoke when he felt it. That feeling any person gets when something or someone is behind them. "Took you long enough Menace." He turned, and sure as shit, there he was. Dressed in Black and generally annoying, with his squeeze, no correction, his wife literally lounging against him. "Parker said you wanted me to help you, what is it and why me?" He watched as the man held out his hand, and wordlessly, he watched as Black Cat placed a lap top on his desk. He watched the woman, trying to remember where he had seen her when she spun the screen to face him, activating a video file in the process.
When the file finished playing, Jameson had his head in his hands. He couldn't believe it, Wilson Fisk, the man who donated billions to charities a year, was also the most powerful crime boss in New York. He just couldn't process it, the man who he would play golf with, who grieved with him when his family had been murdered, was one of the most hated people in the country. That same man admitted to harboring chemical weapons and attacking innocent people simply because he could. And here was proof to lock him away for life. "What do you want me to do?"
"My husband," he watched as Black Cat seemed to stroke the Menace like he was fine art, something not living, just an object to be possessed. "He would be most grateful if you published this and notified the police of Mr. Fisk's actions."
"Okay." He watched the man, slightly bothered by the fact he was being so quiet. Every other time he was forced to confront Spider-Man, the guy was a talker. Now he was stone silent. "So, why is he being all hush hush?" Her answer was a giggle followed by wrapping herself around the man's arm. Disgusted, he turned back to the computer, replaying the video.
"You'll have to excuse him, I'm afraid he is a little hoarse. When he got back tonight, I was so excited and well," she looked around the room, as if afraid someone would hear their conversation. "He is a screamer."
When he turned to face her, he saw that they were both gone, and seemingly drawn back to the screen, he knew that there was only one thing he could do. Reaching for the phone, and his cigar, he took a long drag as the tone rang and someone answered. "Hello, Police, This is Jonathan Jonah Jameson and I would like to report a crime."
After leaving the Bugle, Peter and Felicia moved quickly across town. Eventually they got to the harbor and Peter saw, with some satisfaction, that the police were already swarming the docks, searching for Fisk's building. That wasn't his target though. Off in the distance, he could make out the faint shape of the prison that held the baddest of the bad. When Fisk was captured, that was where they would send him.
Shortly after arriving via a boat that Felicia insisted she had borrowed, they arrived. Peter allowed her to take the lead. This was her thing, breaking into buildings, but come to think of it, this had to be the first time someone had ever broken into a prison. He noticed that she seemed to giggle at the 'common systems' they had installed over the security system, until she led him to his goal.
The cell had been designed to hold him specifically, heavy duty electromagnets that were connected to two separate backup generators in case of a power failure. The metal arms fused to his back were pulled tight, keeping him perfectly centered in the room. He was unable to move unless someone wished for him to. Essentially, Dr. Otto Octavious, aka Dr. Octopus, was as harmless as a baby kitten. "Hey bright eyes."
He watched as Octavious raised his head, looking for where the sound had come from when he spoke again. "Don't speak, there's a camera right on you. Just listen; there is something that you might want to know. Rub your face if you're interested in me continuing." He held his breath, waiting, but soon the prisoner lifted his hand and ran it across his face. "Good, I wanted you to know that tonight, I confronted you pay-roller, Wilson Fisk. Deny it all you want, I know he pays you. But something very interested came up while we were talking, I thought you would want to hear."
When he pulled the DVR and hit play, he watched the man sitting before him. As the words echoed off the cell, the man seemed to be shaking with rage, and Peter couldn't help but grin. It made him smile when he thought about how all the megalomaniacs he had met all seemed to have one thing in common. Once you got them talking, they rambled like they were drunk. Hell, he was willing to bet that if he had asked, Fisk would have told him what his social security number was. When it was finished, he looked to Felicia, who gave him a silent thumb's up. Nodding, he slid down the wall, coming to rest in front of the disgraced doctor. "The room is now on a loop, I figure we've got only a few minutes before security might notice something. So what do you think?"
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I am telling you this because I thought you would want to know."
"That may be true dear boy," he watched as the doctor stood and moved, the arms extending and shrinking to accommodate him. "But you know what I am. I am a killer, who just found out that the man whom he worked for was paying him to be humiliated. You also know that I know the same man I just spoke of will be sent here most likely after he is arraigned. I may be a man of science, but I am still a man with an ego. How do I know that you won't just swoop in to stop me from delivering the final blow when he arrives."
With a sigh, Peter chose his words carefully. Felicia told him that he could be a silver-tongued devil when he wanted to be, he just hoped that it would work this time. "I told you this because I wanted you to know that this man, no matter how he acts, is not your friend. When he arrives, he will be powerless and will want protection. Many people have wound up here because of his actions, or the lack thereof. What happens if you meet him, I don't know. I just hope you'll make the right decision." He crawled back up to the wall and turned back for a only a moment. "I suggest that you get back to where you were. The loop will be disconnected in thirty seconds." He didn't wait for a response, Felicia was already re-hacking the system, they had to find several others before they left. Hell, like Octavious, they all deserved to know what their employer thought of them, right?
For Wilson Fisk, life had truly gone down the drain. He was angry at himself for underestimating that masked menace. It was bad enough that he awoke from his pain-induced slumber by federal agents, but was even worse so that the judge, whom he had deemed bribable, was not. He now found himself being led away from the booking area, when the lights flashed and sirens blared. He took this as a moment to strike. He knew that his people wouldn't abandon him. So he would have to leave this life behind, that was acceptable. He had more than enough aliases and finances to live happily wherever he went.
When his escort was successfully subdued, he simply followed his way back to intake. As expected, he found that all personnel were in various states of injury or unconsciousness. That was when he heard the sound. A dull clank was filling the room, and soon, he saw Octavious. The man had done well during his incarceration. He had somehow managed to keep his strength and his sanity; it was showing since he seemed keen on helping his escape. "Mr. Fisk, come, we do not have much time." He didn't even give him a chance to speak as he was lifted. Fisk was confused when the turned back towards the interior of the prison, but didn't show it. The man had a plan, who was he to question it.
Eventually, they had arrived at what Fisk considered the exercise yard. Stranger still was the reception waiting for them. He recognized them all, every single man he had ever given money to in exchange for blood was assembled there. He wasn't expecting it when he was unceremoniously dumped into the center of the group. "Mr. Fisk," he watched as Octavious settled himself into the circle with him, a demented grin plastered to his face. "I recently learned what you find entertaining," his blood paled as one of his mechanical arms produced a lethal-looking needle. "It is time you learn what makes us smile," he dragged the point slowly over his face. When Fisk closed his eyes, he felt its point settle over his eye. "Any last words?"
"Damn you Spider-Man."
Peter was grinning like a mad man as he read the newest edition of the Bugle. It was the exact evening after the riot at Hell's Gate prison that left only one man dead, Wilson Fisk. The paper even went so far as to say the only reason they were able to identify who it was, was because he was the only inmate that was not breathing. Peter, we have something to discuss.
He huffed out a breath and released the paper he was holding into the breeze. He had settled himself on the now abandoned Fisk building, watching the police, along with the FBI, CIA ATFE, and ICE as they emptied it out. He felt that this was a good place to be. If anyone saw him, they would now know that he had taken down the city's biggest threat, anyone else would be easy pickings. "What is it Alpha?" I just wanted to make you aware of a few things. "And what would those be?" The first is that, with the King Pin now dead, there is an open seat of power. He nodded at this; after all, it was to be expected. People would come from all over to try and take the city. "Then I'll take them down, what are your other worries?" He dove off now, the action below them was dying down and he needed to clear his head.
What do you think shield will do when they find out and I do me when? He mulled that over, and couldn't really think of an answer. Fury was a man who looked at the world as black and white. Peter doubted that the man would see any grey when he found out about this. "We'll burn that bridge when we get there. Any other problems?" That was when she started to laugh. When Alpha laughed, Peter couldn't help but feel that he was about to be royally screwed. The sound of her happiness just messed with him too much. This is just a little food for thought, nothing to panic about. "Than what is it?" How many times would you say that you and Felicia had been, shall we say, intimate? "You're asking stupid questions. You've been there every time. Okay, that sounded more messed up than I meant it to." Her reply was again, a laugh. The only reason I asked why is because, in all those times, how many times did you take a second to pull back and wrap it up?
He missed the building he was aiming for and fell, eventually though, his mind started to work again and he caught himself. She was right, he knew that much. It was something so simple, something that he pounded into the minds of his students, and yet he hadn't done a single thing that he should have. Nothing to say on the matter Peter? His minded drifted back to an encounter he once had with a guy who called himself Deadpool. The guy was a talker, no denying that, but what stuck out to Peter was what he had said after he finally caught him. He had tied him up in webbing, and had taken the time to destroy his teleporter. The guy was completely helpless and he just muttered something that was comical at the time. Now though, he could relate to what the man had said. Well? "Fuck me gently."
There you go, the end of Starting Over. There is a quick epilogue that will be posted. Just a few ideas I had been playing around with. Please review, it makes me feel proud, and please, enjoy the epilogue. Anyway, until next posting, take it easy, -N.