Chapter Nine – The Seedy Life of Euan Drake

I awoke to Harry's snoring and dim light peering through the cloudy New York sky. A flurry of snow whistled past the window; I got out of bed and shut the window as the chill from February New York invaded the room. I rubbed my palms over my forearms in an attempt to warm them and felt the hairs standing on end then sat back on my bed. My phone showed 10:34. It wasn't a shock that Harry was dead to the world, he usually was on a Saturday morning. With a stretch and a ruffle of my hair I strolled into the bathroom to brush my teeth (among other things) and then continued to Ned's and Flash's dorm room. Ned was still lay under his blankets dozing off, but to the side I heard deep breaths and panting. I looked to see Flash on the floor doing his morning workout: push ups at the moment.

"Morning." I said while grabbing Ned's desk chair and sitting down. "How many is that?"

"No idea." Flash replied in between rushed gasps.

"Thought you'd learnt to count?"

"Fuck you." He hissed. "I'm going to failure."

That failure seemed pretty soon. His movements were slowing, his back beginning to arch in exhaustion. Sweat dripped down his tensed left bicep just before it gave out and he fell to the floor in a tired worn-out mess. I filled a cup of water from the bathroom sink and brought it to him as he pulled himself into a sitting position against his bed.

He took a long drink from the cup, almost emptying it of water. "Thanks."

I took a long look at his body, at the muscles down his arms and torso. People's musculature always interested me. My body was lean and strong – I didn't need to work for it thanks to that spider bite that fifteen year old Peter got. Other people were different though. They had to exercise, and eat properly, and sleep properly. If they worked too much on one muscle then they would lose their balance. If they ate too much for a few days the washboard abs they had spend months on would vanish. What especially interested me were the different types of bodies which I had encountered, whether they were Flash's muscular but lean build, Harry's skinny and slender body, or even Brian Braddock's tall and broad physique. Each one I would describe strong, yet each in different ways, and each using different methods to attain their appearance.

"Want to go for food in a bit?" Flash pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Sure." I had nothing else to do.

"Sweet. I'll grab a shower and then message the girls. Been a while since we've grabbed food as a group." Flash jumped to his feet, adjusting his shorts, and grabbed a towel as he walked to the bathroom. After a minute or so I heard the familiar sound of water hitting the plastic shower floor. I was absorbed in my memories. I felt angry. Angry at what had been taken from me once more. Flash's comment stirred something in me that had turned my mood sour. I had a sudden desire to put my Spidey costume on and go out to take my anger out on the low-lives of the city. I pushed those feelings away and focused on the cause of the issue.

Gwen used to organise us all into having lunch on the weekend together.

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The coffee shop that the group of us were crammed into was a cosy little place. It was made up of dark wood furniture, obviously second-hand and salvaged from a low budget auction, with bare brick walls which were there more for lack of money than any aesthetic reasons. It was a narrow building sandwiched between a drug-store and a bank – fitting in all six of our group was a struggle but we managed. I looked around the scratched table at the faces of my friends: Liz and Betty were chatting about the government's constant back and forth on the idea of loan forgiveness, Ned and Flash were making up imaginary fight scenarios, and Harry still in his dark sunglasses was holding onto his black coffee as if for dear life.

The place itself was nice – quiet and family run. We had been coming here since we all first met in Midtown, back when I'd just got my powers, when Flash was dating Betty and bullying me, and when Gwen was still…

I pushed the thought out of my head. Once again that desire to put on my suit arose and I felt my fist tighten under the table. A few deep breaths and I relaxed my hand, just in time for our food to arrive: some trendy avocado creation for Harry and Liz, a share platter of sides for Betty and Ned, a healthy tuna salad wrap for Flash, and finally a mac and cheese for yours truly. The sound of chatting faded to be replaced with the clinking of cutlery on plates and bowls. There was something wonderfully calming about eating as a group. The act of sitting quietly and just focusing on food while the people you care about, and care about you, do the same. No pressure to talk or make conversation or be interesting, just food.

"Oh my God." Betty said suddenly, breaking my thoughts about the tranquillity of food. "You guys seen the news about the Life Foundation?"

My attention was suddenly piqued, as I began kicking myself for missing a potential second attack by the Black Cat. "What's happened?"

"Bit quieter please Pete." Harry said next to me grimacing.

I ignored him and listened to Betty. "A load of private documents and stuff has been released online."

I remembered the files that the Cat had downloaded. "What sort of documents?" Ned asked.

"Legal cases, contracts, court letters. Lots of stuff about Euan Drake." Betty said, referencing Carton Drake's only son. "Oh shit, it's all stuff about sexual misconduct."

"What?" Liz said confused.

"Yeah, looks like the company has been hiding a load of sexual misconduct accusations from the public." Betty slid her phone over to Liz. "Have a look."

The blonde picked up the phone and scrolled through it. "Oh wow. What a creep. Rape accusations, sexual harassment, what a dick."

"Bastard." Flash growled.

I thought back to the Black Cat, thinking about my interactions with her the other night. Was this her plan? Surely she had tried to extort Euan Drake, and then released the documents when he refused to pay up. How did she know though, and was this the end of her plan or did she have more in store?

"People like that make my skin crawl." Liz said, passing the phone back to Betty.

"If you're rich you get to act like you can do what you want." Ned commented. "Glad you're nothing like that." He looked at Harry.

"I met him a few times." The inheritor to the Osborn fortune announced. "Was always a bit slimy in person. Bit too touchy if you get me."

"Where did you meet him?" I asked.

"Osborn parties and conferences. Whenever dad threw some he always had me come along since I was 'the heir to the throne'." He stated, using air quotes around Norman's words. This was the first time in a long time that he had referred to Norman as 'dad'. Maybe it was cause he could associate him with a rapist abuser like Euan Drake. "Met loads of rich creeps."

"Hopefully he gets what's coming to him." Liz scowled.

Something told me Cat wouldn't stop until she at least got what she wanted from him.

"Doubt that'll happen." Ned said. "One rule for the rich, another rule for everyone else."

"Yea, the fact that all of this has been covered up just proves that." Flash added. "Shit's fucked."

I thought back to my night time activities – this is why I did it. So even if abusers and criminals get away with what they do in the courts and jails, they still have to go through me. I can still deal out my own justice, my own punishment.

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"Where's Mr Negative!" I shouted, punching through the wooden wall next to the man's head. He recoiled away from my fist and it burst through the planks but my other hand around his throat stopped him from moving away.

"I don't know I swear." The man stammered. His forehead was gushing blood, a side-effect of the kick to the fact which shattered his demon mask from his face. The ground was littered with his friend, low-lives who were similarly dressed and carting around Negative's drugs and weapons to be sold on the street. I twisted my body and flung him across the room, hearing him land with a snap. I slowly walked towards him as he tried to shuffle away nursing a broken forearm. I caught sight of myself in the black mirror of their van and smirked under my mask – my black suit was really doing the business. Colourful was good; scary was better. I leant down and grabbed the man again, lifting him off the ground.

"If I find out you're lying to me I'll hunt you down." I growled.

"I'm not I promise." There were tears streaming down the man's face, mixing with the blood that was covering the side of his cheek. I dropped him to the ground and kicked him swiftly in the head, knocking him unconscious. I'm sure I felt a crack in his skull as I did it, but I didn't care. He got what he deserved. What he didn't realise was I knew he wasn't lying; I had figured out none of them knew where Negative was when most of them were bleeding on the floor. I just wanted the fun of taking my anger out. I wanted them to be hurt, be broken, to be punished for their pushing of narcotics and arms.

Besides, this was nothing compared to what Mr Negative was going to get when I'd finally have the opportunity to have a chat with him…

Song Recommendation: Touch Me Again - Petrol Girls