Liz stared at nothing in particular, her mind swirling as it tried to make sense of the evening's events. She was suddenly shaken from her trance by her best friend, who was holding a glass of water by her. She gratefully took it, taking a small sip.
"I just got off the phone with Peter," Mary Jane said, sitting down on the table across from where Liz was on the couch. "It took a little help, but he said that Mark is in custody now."
"Great," Liz said, holding her glass up as she prepared to take another sip. "So, what, he's just going to be where I am now?"
"I'm sure they'll put him somewhere a little more secure, just in case he tries to 'flame on' or whatever again," M.J. explained.
Silence fell between them as Liz just looked down at her glass of water, slowly turning it back and forth in her fingers.
"How are you feeling?" her best friend asked.
Liz let out a light huff.
"That's such a loaded question right now."
"I can imagine," Mary Jane replied.
Liz hesitated before speaking up again.
"It's one thing for him to reveal himself as some kind of living flamethrower, but... even after how he testified against me, I still couldn't even have imagined that he'd..."
Her voice trailed off, her eyes feeling like dams about to burst as tears flooded them. She set her glass down and covered her face; she could feel M.J. come alongside her as the couch bounced slightly, the woman clutching at her arms, trying her best to offer support.
"I mean, the fact that he tried to kill me alone is bad enough," she spoke up again as she fought threw her sobs, sniffing. "But even before that, he basically demanded that I send myself to prison so he could continue on with his merry little life of crime. I mean, how could he not even perceive how selfish that was!?"
"I don't know," M.J. said, rubbing her hands up and down Liz's arms as she continued her attempt to console her.
"I tried to reach him," she continued, "but when I looked in his eyes, I... I didn't even recognize him anymore. It's like there isn't anything about my brother that's left in there."
She then buried her face in her hands once more, sobbing uncontrollably as her best friend pulled her close. Liz felt as though she were being torn apart by the torrent of emotions hitting her all at once, with waves crashing hard against her.
How was she supposed to deal with this?
Detective Lee marched into the building, with Karen right behind her. The two women quickly made their way to the District Attorney's office, where they found both her and the Police Chief awaiting them. Without hesitation, she came up to them.
"What do you have?" the chief spoke up first.
"We followed Mark until he met up with some others," the detective explained. "We weren't close enough to hear what they said, but they roughed him up before he took one of them hostage and fled into one of the buildings nearby. We never saw him come out though, and he wasn't seen again until the whole 'Molten Man' thing, so that place has to be where he gets or takes whatever it is that gives him his powers. We need to get in there and search the building right now."
"Where was this?" the D.A. asked.
"An older building in Midtown," Karen explained. "I agree with the detective; we have to move on this as soon as possible."
The D.A. and the Chief looked at each other, the Detective unable to discern whether they appeared curious, skeptical or both.
"Detective," the chief spoke up, "you are sure this is the place?"
"Absolutely," she said.
"We'll get you your warrant," the D.A. spoke up, "but since it's already so late, it's unlikely to come through until the morning, so why don't you ladies go home and get rest?"
"Are you sure that it's wise to wait?" the detective questioned before backtracking a little. "I just mean that, if for some reason they get word we're coming, they might clear out first."
"If this place is where people as dangerous as Mark Allan are made, I'm not having anyone go in there unless we have enough men & women to properly watch out for each other," the chief replied.
"That does make sense," the detective conceded. She was anxious to wrap this case up, but it was hard to argue with her superior's logic. She'd heard that it had taken both Spider-Man and Daredevil to finally bring the self-proclaimed "Molten Man" down, so if there were more like him in there, they needed to be properly prepared.
"The chief is right," the D.A. conceded. "Both of you go home, and good work. I think we're one step closer to uncovering the truth behind all of this."
"Your Honor, this is outrageous!" the prosecutor insisted.
"Frankly, Mr. Prosecutor, what I find to be outrageous is your supposed 'star witness's' recent behavior," the judge replied, and Matt had to keep from letting a sly grin come over his face. The meeting he'd gotten at basically the crack of dawn with them had just gotten started and was already seemingly going in his favor.
"I'm not excusing Mr. Allan's conduct last night," the prosecutor said. "I'm as appalled as anybody, but we have presented a hard enough case against Ms. Allan that we believe that this trial should proceed as normal."
"Normal, Mr. Prosecutor?" Matt questioned, allowing just the faintest of scoffs out with his words. "Last time I checked, a normal trial didn't include one of the witnesses breaking out the accused and trying to blackmail her into confessing."
"Says your client," the prosecutor replied. "For all we know, maybe this was some elaborate ploy by the two!"
"So, what, they've been playing both of us?" Matt asked. "For what purpose? They obviously aren't getting the money at this stage, at least not both of them, so why work together?"
"I'm inclined to agree with the defense," the judge said.
"Your Honor..." the prosecutor said in something resembling a whine.
"This case may very well be far from over, Mr. Prosecutor," the judge clarified, "and I have no intention of fully dismissing these proceedings just yet. However, until you can get things straightened out on your end, and since the defendant willingly turned herself in of her own free will last night, I am moving to delay this case and release the accused on the bail originally set, per her agreement to the conditions."
With that, the court was dismissed for the day, and Matt went with his client to get her fitted for the "condition" to her release: a tracking device on her ankle. Temporary house arrest wasn't exactly what he was going for, but compared to where she'd been, it would hopefully prove a step in the right direction. Once that was done, she was escorted home, with Mary Jane tagging along to stay with her for the short term, but Peter stayed back at Matt's request. The two men headed back to his office, where they were joined by Karen, who shut the door upon her arrival.
"This is our window," Matt said. "The prosecution is vulnerable, so this is our best chance to find something that will exonerate her. Karen, you said that the detective you went with last night managed to convince them to issue a warrant to search that building you saw Mark go into?"
"Yes, but I haven't heard anything back yet," Karen said. No sooner had she said that though than her phone rang; she took it out and answered it. After a few moments where Peter had to fight the urge to try and listen in on the conversation, she finally hung up.
"That was actually her."
"And?" Peter questioned.
"I guess waiting until first thing in the morning really was too long, because when they got there, the place was empty."
Peter clenched his fist in frustration; how could Tombstone have gotten wind of what they were doing so quickly?
"I heard a lot of background noise; she said she was getting chewed out by her captain right now, but when she gets a chance, she's going to call Spider-Man to see if he can look over the scene to make sure that nothing was missed."
Peter nodded; if there was anything that he could find, any clue at all, he was going to find it. However, before he could respond, his own phone rang. He took it out and was surprised to see who it was.
"I guess I'm not the only one with burning ears," Matt said.
"It's not her," Peter replied before answering.
"May? What's going on?"
"Flash is awake."
Rushing into the hospital, Peter quickly made his way to Flash's hospital room, where he found his friend lying in bed with his mother by his side. He locked eyes with him, but no words came out from either party. Mrs. Thompson then excused herself, getting up and making her way out of the room while shutting the door behind her. With it being just the two of them, Peter finally managed to speak up.
"Hey man."
"Hey," was all Flash could say in response before averting eye contact.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there that night," Peter apologized. "I had a run in with someone..."
"You don't need to apologize, Peter," Flash said.
"Accept I do," he insisted, taking a couple gentle steps closer to Flash. "You're my friend; you needed me, and I wasn't there for you, and I'm sorry."
Flash didn't respond, still refusing to make eye contact with him. Peter just stood there, frozen, uncertain of what to do next. How was he supposed to handle a situation like this? He was so afraid of saying the wrong thing, of somehow making it worse, but at the same time, he knew his friend needed him, whether he realized it or not.
"If you don't want to talk right now, if you're still upset, I understand," he finally spoke up. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you, in whatever way that you need me to be."
When Flash still didn't say anything, Peter turned to leave after a moment, planning to send his friend's mother back inside so that he wouldn't be alone.
"I just feel so empty."
Peter turned back; Flash still was looking at the wall by the side of his bed, but if the man was willing to talk now, he was willing to listen.
"I can't imagine what that must be like," he said, slowly lowering himself into the chair beside his friend's bed.
Flash finally turned his head upright, looking down in the direction of his no longer functional limbs.
"It's like... it's like my whole identity, my whole purpose for living has just been ripped away," he continued, a tear streaking down his cheek. "I've heard everything that you, mom, and everyone else has been saying, but it's like... it's like it doesn't even register, like I'm in a pit so deep that nothing and no one can get me out. I was doing something good, but it's like God is punishing me for it somehow. Have you ever felt that way, Peter? Have you ever felt like you just try so hard to do something right in the world, and life just takes from you until you have nothing left?"
Peter lowered his head for a moment, nodding a little even as he considered his answer.
"I have," he said, looking back at Flash. "I don't know that I can say I've ever been where you were at, but I know what it's like to feel like nothing good you do ever amounts to anything, to have almost nothing but bad things come your way instead."
Flash finally looked at him, narrowing his eyes. There was still grief and pain in them, but also curiosity.
"How do you deal with that?" he asked. "How do you not just let it beat you down until you just want to give in?"
Peter sucked in a breath, letting it out through his nostrils as he glanced to the side, thinking over his response.
"It's probably going to sound really cliché, but I really lean on the people that I have in my life," he said. "To be honest, I'm still not as good as I should be about it, but M.J, my aunt, I know that they love me and are willing to go through anything I'm going through right there with me. I just had to be willing to let them in. But sometimes, that's not enough, because no matter how much they care for you, they just can't understand what it is you're going through."
"So, what do you do then?" Flash asked, his eyes still pleading for answers.
"I think back to the good that I did, like you mentioned," he explained. "I take in the faces of the people that I did those things for, what they seemed to be feeling in those moments, and I hold onto them. I tell myself that, even if I am never able to do the same thing again, that the look of happiness, of joy on their faces, that it was all worth it just for that."
Flash glanced down for a moment.
"I have a few moments like that," he conceded, "I don't know if they'll be enough."
Peter reached out, gently gripping his friend's arm.
"It's okay," he said. "You need to find your own way out of this, but I'm going to be here through it all for you man. I promise."
Detective Lee marched out of her captain's office. The chewing out she'd received had been like nothing she'd ever experienced before; frankly, if the chief hadn't spoken up in her favor, she likely would be on her way to clear out her desk right now, instead of making her way outside, where she would hopefully be able to finally contact Spider-Man.
"Excuse me."
She then looked up to see that a large, older man was standing in front of her.
"Are you Detective Terrie Lee?" he asked her.
"Yes..." she said, curiosity as to who this stranger was evident in her tone.
"My name is Robbie Robertson; I'm the editor in chief over at the Daily Bugle," the man explained. "Is there anywhere that we can talk in private? I think that I might be able to help you."
So, because I really wanted to finish posting this story before the arrival of my second child, I've been working hard to get the last few chapters of this story done, and I am nearly there. I will hopefully get chapter 30 done tonight, so I will be posting a chapter a day between now and the end, so be on the lookout over the next five days!
Continuing to pray for you all; stay safe and healthy!
"Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord Himself, is the Rock eternal." Isaiah 26:4