Chapter 45
Laptop was fixed 
Anyway, I read through the two Venom series again and I have to say: I find myself sympathizing heavily with the symbiote in the current chapter. I mean iirc Spider-Man knows Klyntar's been cured of his bloodlust since it told him so during Civil War II, but he still goes along with a plan to trap it via taking advantage of its desires to rejoin him. Makes its hatred of him more justified now more than ever, especially if you remember that the first time he removed it in canon it didn't actually do anything wrong that couldn't have been solved by talking it out.
Also, I read up on Jack-o-Lantern during the Agent Venom run and wow...this guy's even worse than I remembered :/ It'll be a doozy writing him while still trying to keep to the T rating for the fic.
Chapter 45: Weird is the new Normal
What the fuck was happening with her life?
Those were the words that ran through Gwen Stacy's mind as she examined her current situation. The past 4 months had been hectic - more than it had any right to be, in all honesty - but she'd always managed to find a way through it all. Best friend come back to life? Tough, but she'd managed. Having to work together with Frank Castle? Not on her top 10 list, but fuck it she'd done worse. Outing Peter as the Lizard to save her own ass? Not her brightest moment, but it happened and she sucked it up...
...Going to an old-style diner/bar in Hell's Kitchen with Spider-Man and a talking duck while in full costume? That...That was right up there, most definitely.
She looked across the booth at probably the weirdest pair she'd seen since Jess and her dad, '...This is way too fucking weird.' She sunk into the seat and sighed, poking at the bacon and eggs on her plate lazily. She was keenly aware of the fact that just about everyone on the diner was staring at them, most of them not even trying to be subtle with their pictures, tweets and videos, but she paid it no mind. Couldn't be any weirder than...whatever the fuck this was.
"You know, I like this place," Howard said, taking a big gulp of the beer he held in his hands. Gwen supposed she shouldn't have been surprised the talking duck had opposable thumbs, but fuck it she definitely was. Why the fuck did a duck have human hands!? "I mean everybody's looking at us like we're all freaks, but what else is new, huh?" He gave them both a wry smile. Gwen was in no way weirded out by the fact that a beak somehow managed to smile, no siree...
"Probably just curious about what the big-shot celebrity's doing with a couple of jokers like us." Peter gestured to her with a subtle move of the hands, making no move to touch his own breakfast plate or the half a dozen bottles of beer on his side of the table.
"You know I can both hear you, right?" She rolled her eyes, because what else was she gonna do? Her best friend was sitting next to a talking duck like it was no big deal...and to make it worse Jess knew the guy. How she managed to get in touch with a talking duck - and more importantly why she'd never said anything beforehand - she had no fucking clue, but she couldn't exactly swing over to ask. She and dad were already on a case and she didn't exactly feel comfortable leaving Peter behind all on his own with the Ronald Duck wannabe.
She spooned some of the soggy eggs to her mouth and sighed. Going a diner/bar while wearing her (new) full costume wouldn't exactly have been her idea of a typical Saturday morning, but one thing she learned ever since she got bit was that she had to know to deal, 'Could be worse...' she thought, though how exactly it could have gotten any worse she had no fucking clue at this point.
Off to the side she could see a couple of guys probably a few years older than her striding towards the table, their poses the same kind of confident she'd often see on people being sentenced to death row, 'Probably not asking for autographs.' She took a sip of her orange juice. They were looking right at her; they weren't even pretending not to, 'Do they want something?'
Whatever it was she wasn't going to find out. They'd barely managed two steps before their eyes diverted to Peter and they froze up; one of them immediately turned around back to the table he came from while the other lasted a few more seconds before he bolted after his partner in crime, the rest of his (drunk) friends calling all manner of insults she didn't feel comfortable repeating considering how much it involved cats.
Peter didn't even look at them. She doubted he even noticed the show considering how much he was focusing on the duck.
Gwen eyed the two silently. The duck was rambling something about how his best friend 'Bev' left him and that Jess was lording favors over his head over an incident with someone named 'Dr. Bong'...yeah, at this point she was pretty sure he was pulling more than eggs out of his ass, 'Why the fuck would Jess think he could help us...'? She bit into the bacon moodily. When the day was done the two of them were gonna have words.
"So how'd you get into the P.I gig?" Peter asked.
'Seriously?' She sighed, the two once again ignoring her. Most of the time she could barely get 2 words out of him, but now here he was being a blabbermouth like the time Betty made the mistake of asking him about his D and D campaign. It was probably the first and last time she'd seen the brunette gape like a fish and make an excuse to avoid having to listen to her best friend ramble about his character's fictional backstory.
"Eh, you know. Figured it was an easy gig. If Jones could do it then so could I, right?" He took a drag of his cigar - how did a talking duck afford those? - and shrugged, "Let me tell ya, kid; it ain't glamorous. Everyone watches Vice City and figures it's about criminal conspiracies, sexy dames and snappy suits. Truth is you spend most of your time looking for randy husbands wetting their pecker where it don't belong or some schmucks who think they can fake a seizure to get some insurance pay."
"I imagine..." He smiled slightly - the fuck? - and leaned back on the seat, "Guess there are some things that haven't changed even in this Madhouse." He laughed...laughed! What the hell was happening!? "Listen, you need any help with your cases then just call me. I'm busy a lot of the time nowadays, but it'll be good to do something to unwind every now and then. Think about it."
"Help? Last time I got that Jones' been holding it over my head ever since." He let out a smoky breath, "But hell, I guess I can't afford to turn away help, can I? Sure, I need something I'll give Spider-Man a call. Matter of fact there's actually been this rash of senior citizens mugging people and-"
"Alright, I'm gonna have to cut in here," Gwen said, "Look, as fascinating as all this is, we do have a problem we're dealing with now. So..." She set aside her plate and cleared some desperately needed room, "Jess told us to go after you for a reason, so do you actually know anything about this weirdo stalker chick or do we have to go somewhere else?"
"Yeah, yeah. Keep your spandex on." Howard adjusted his place on the seat and pulled out the folder from...somewhere. Did he just store things up his ass or something? She had a possible alien on her, so that at least made sense...well, no it didn't, but whatever, "So, let me just make sure I've got this right: This dame you're after. Blue suit, gray skin, beady yellow eyes and ranting something about how she just 'had to do it' because of whatever?"
"...More or less." She raised an eyebrow. That was oddly specific considering she hadn't given much details yet, "You mentioned getting involved with her before, right?"
"Yeah...involved." He opened the folder and tapped a disturbingly human finger at a blurry picture, "Ran into this crazy doll before. A client of mine, old star from the 90's, she said she was being stalked by someone. Vague on details, so I followed her around and to see if she was telling the truth. Out-stalk the stalker, if you catch my drift." He rubbed the cigar on the ashtray, "It...didn't go so well."
"She died?" Peter asked.
"Not exactly." He sighed, "Got paranoid as all hell. Says that the dame - called her 'a paper doll' - was everywhere. She wakes up and she's there, goes to work and she's writing her messages and threats...it was too much for her. She paid my fee and told me she was leaving the country, going somewhere that she wouldn't be followed." He looked down at the picture again, "Guess she succeeded if the blue doll's still here."
"A stalker, yeah, but not a murderer." She shuddered at the memory of the completely flat driver, "Did she show you the threats? What they said?"
"Nah, think she was too scared to do that or she probably would've called the police." He pulled out a sheet of paper from the stack and handed it to her, "I tried to investigate the case myself, but I got a dead end. Found her family, or at least I think they're her family, but I never got anything out of em. Parents kept mum, said their daughter was dead and that they weren't gonna tell me nothing."
"You believe that?" she asked, looking down at the paper. The information was bare-bones and the handwriting was atrocious, but she got the gist of it: Piper Dali, born to Jason and Liza Dali. Nothing outstanding about her, which made it easy for no one to look or care when their daughter died under 'mysterious circumstances' with no funeral or family coming to visit. Months ago she would have dismissed it as coincidence, but after what happened with Maxine she'd learned not to be so careless.
"Nah, but what was I gonna do? I was out a client and a 3 foot duck ain't exactly intimidating. Maybe you two heroes will have better luck." He shrugged and looked at them both in turn, "Look, you two look like you can handle this just fine. I ain't gonna be much help to either of you's, but if you need another nudge in the right direction then you know where I'll be." He stepped off the booth and put on his hat again, "...Thanks for the drinks."
"You're welcome." Peter watched the duck go with a nod before looking down at the folder, "...Address isn't far from here. We could probably make it there before noon if we hurry up."
"Yeah, I guess so..." She licked both lips and sighed, lowering her mask to cover the bottom half of her face again, "Something doesn't add up. Howard mentioned that woman was stalked, but she wasn't killed. When I met this 'PaperDoll' she killed that driver and she was trying to kill the Storms. That's a far cry from stalking someone, right? There has to be something we're missing."
"Not always." He pulled up his own mouth-flap and re-attached it with a deft click, "Killing ain't easy, I'll give you that, but you'd be surprised how quickly some people can cross that line. Just look at me..."
"Spider-Man..." God, she hated thinking about it. Her best friend, his memories warped beyond imagining, and now he didn't even blink at the thought of shooting someone between the eyes. The worst part of it was a part of couldn't help but think this was better. Better than the angry young man who'd turned himself into a giant Lizard just for the sake of revenge, better than the friend who secretly despised Harry for reasons she couldn't really understand.
Sometimes she wondered if things would've been better or worse if he kept his memories or not...
"I don't wanna go into another debate, Spider-Woman. We have to deal with this Paper Doll dame first." He pulled out a stack of bills and placed them near the plates, "Come on, let's go. This place is giving me a headache."
Unfortunately things were never simple. The pair were only halfway through the entrance before the same two guys from last time blocked their way, their postures shaky, 'Oh, lord...' She eyed their cheering friends and frowned. She knew what was coming; a group of drunken friends dared the most gullible in the group to do something stupid now that they all had a little liquid courage. She'd been on both ends of more than a few embarrassing dares herself.
"H-Hey!" The first one said. Tall, well-built and tan; most people would have called him handsome, but the way he was shaking only reminded her of a giant pair of marracas, "We...uh, I mean me and my friends..." He looked back at his friend and shook his head in a panic, "Fuck, dude, I can't do this! She's a damn Superhero!" He whispered...or at least she thought he might have been whispering. It sounded like he was screaming it out for the entire diner/bar to hear.
"Y-You can do this, man!" His friend - shorter, stockier and just as shaky - clapped him on the back encouragingly, "You fucking got this!"
"Uh..." Gwen looked at Peter, but he only shook his head and let out a scoff. It wasn't very helpful, "Could we...help you two-"
"Will you go out with me!?"
A stifling silence settled over the entire room. All around them Gwen saw the assorted crowds of people lose any sense of subtlety in favor of openly staring, some of them even gaping openly like they had something stuck in their throat. For her part Gwen just looked at the shaky young man, an eyebrow raised. Months ago she would have counted herself lucky not to get spat at when she rescued someone from certain death, but now everyone was singing her praises like she was Justin Bieber in front of a horde of his fangirls. It was both flattering and creepy.
That of course came with a lot of people confessing love on the internet. She'd seen it enough times not to be shocked, but a part of her was still surprised to be on the end of the praise rather than just a spectator. Still, this was probably the first time someone had done it when all attention was focused on them; usually it was a crowd of people, all their voices mixing into one another and making it hard to understand them. Other times it was anonymous declarations on the net; which Betty and MJ had no problem screencapping to make fun of her with, the little harpies.
"Um..." she mumbled intelligently, because that was the only thing that came to mind right then and there. Usually this would've been her cue to swing away with some half-assed excuse about Bodega Bandit robbing the Bucky Barnes or something, but the two were blocking the way to the entrance and between them and the dead fucking quiet crowd any excuses she had died on her lips.
Thankfully(?) Peter decided to talk for her, "We don't have time for games, kid." He clicked his tongue. Gwen declined to comment on the fact that Peter was about half a decade younger and at least a few inches shorter than the 'kid' in question, "Go back to your friends and-"
"H-Hey, back off, gramps! She ain't your girlfriend or anything!" The portly wingman spoke up; likely more to the alcohol than any genuine bravado on his part.
The quiet went from awkward to tense. Gwen heard more than a few gasps and scared mutters from the other customers, a few of them bolting to the exits outright in a panic. Even the wingman's eyes widened and he raised up both hands in a calming gesture, "Gramps...?" Peter muttered, his voice hard to make out even through the painful silence. Despite (or because of) that, though, he saw more than a few people's breath hitch.
"I-I didn't m-mean a-a-anything by it." The wingman stuttered, "L-Look, let's all calm down...okay?"
She knew about Peter's reputation. She didn't like it, but like her a few months ago the city was torn about him: One half saw him as the 'hero the city needed', a 'dark avenger' or some other bullshit that did the things the other heroes and vigilantes refused to do. The other half...well, all she could say was that 'murderer' was probably one of the more polite things they called him. He didn't have the years of built up goodwill, and it didn't help that he seemed to find no problem shoving a gun to someone's kneecaps and pulling the trigger.
Gwen didn't know what to expect. A part of her thought he'd start a bar brawl by decking the guy in the face, and really that at least she would have understood; he didn't seem to hesitate to do what he thought was the quickest way to get out of a situation.
She definitely wasn't expecting him to laugh under his breath like he'd been told a joke.
"Gramps...heh, I like it." He stuffed his hands to his pockets and turned to her, "You know what, I'll go on ahead to Dali's place. Meet up with me when you get done with your new boyfriend."
"Spider-Man, don't you-" Too late. The words were barely out of her mouth before he stepped past the pair and disappeared past the entrance...and she meant that last part literally; she lost sight of him as soon as he stepped into the crowd of people gathered outside the diner, wisps of dark smoke coming and going before he disappeared completely from her sight.
That...was new.
Unfortunately she didn't get the chance to question it further. Without Peter at her side all attention was drawn to her now, her would-be admirer even looking like he was a hair's breath away from getting onto one knee and pulling a rose out of his ass, "S-So..." He licked his lips nervously and stepped forward, hands wringing together so tightly he looked like he was trying to snap his fingers off, "What do you say...?"
Peter was gonna pay for this. Hard.
Sitting on her ass watching a couple of teenyboppers...really not how she wanted to spend her Saturday.
Lana sighed and brought a hand through her face, doing her best to ignore the rising sense of irritation she felt. She could've been out there right now with her friends, maybe taking care of strays with Chat or trying to tempt Kamala with bacon, but instead she was sitting on her ass in Pete's crappy-ass apartment watching a couple of child stars and making sure some stalker didn't get them because...well, because it was the right thing to do, she guessed.
And she could get behind that, totally, but if she ever thought about taking the vigilante gig - which was more and more tempting by the day, really - she definitely would have preferred taking down pimps, rapists and killers over watching a couple of America's golden children like a fucking babysitter.
'You fucking owe me for this, Pete.' She leaned back on the chair and watched little miss perfect. The blonde was sitting at the couch, Spider-Pug - Pete wouldn't have called it that, but fuck it she wasn't going to call it 'dog' like he was - sitting on her lap half-asleep. She hadn't said anything ever since Pete and Spider-Woman left aside from a few mumbled coos to dog (which didn't really count), but it suited Lana just fine. She didn't really wanna deal with her crying...
It wasn't that she was unsympathetic - she knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of a madman's crosshairs - but she didn't see what the big deal was. She and her mom couldn't call the police, they wouldn't have given a shit about a prostitute and her bastard daughter, but a couple of stars on one of America's most popular sitcoms? Shit, they'd get a fucking SWAT team just for the two of them with a snap of the finger.
"Something wrong, Lana? Want to talk to me about it?"
Oh yeah, there was another reason she was pissed off: Johnny Storm had the libido of a horny old man even though she was pretty fucking sure he was, what, 14?
"My mom says I'm a good listener, I could-"
"Back the fuck off or I'll blow away with little pubes you have." She pointed a glowing hand at the younger teen. The gesture was hollow - they all knew she wouldn't risk blowing his nuts off just for being annoying - but the annoyed growl in her voice was enough to make him back off...at least for the next 7 minutes or so. This was the 4th time in the past hour he'd tried to offer her a massage to 'get those stressed knots out of her shoulders' or some other bullshit.
'Kill me now...' She groaned and covered her face with both hands. She'd dealt with horny assholes before; some of them even younger than Storm was, if one could believe it, but at least then she wasn't trying to make sure they didn't get hurt. Usually anyone who tried to cop a feel because they thought she was like her mom got a kick to a balls or a fist to their nose. That made them back off right fucking quick.
"Sorry about Johnny." Susan said as soon as the younger Storm was out of the room. He'd be back in a few minutes, but she'd relish the time he was gone, "I know he can be...difficult." Lana rolled her eyes. It wasn't the word she would have used, but Susan was a hell of a lot less annoying than her little brother so she'd pretend there was a swear jar or something, "He's just trying not to be scared in his own way."
"Yeah, well I'd appreciate if 'his own way' didn't involve trying to look at my tits." Well...so much for the swear jar. Susan blinked twice before she gave a dainty fucking cough and looked away with a slight blush. How sheltered was this chick? "...Look, I'm sure it'll be fine. Pe- er, Spider-Man and Spider-Woman will catch this stalker, kick her ass and then you'll be back on your fancy filmset making the next shitty season of Fantastic 4."
Susan looked down at Spider-Pug and bit her lower lip before she said, "Lana...do you not like me? Did I do something to make you mad?"
"No, it's not you." She rolled her eyes and slouched on the seat, "I'm just pissed off at Spider-Man giving me the babysitting detail. I mean he tells me over and over again he doesn't want a partner and that he doesn't need any help with the vigilante gig, but the second he needs someone to play the fucking nanny suddenly he needs my help? Gimme a fucking break." She clicked her tongue, "So yeah, don't worry about it, you're not the one I'm pissed at."
"I see..."
The silence lasted for a few more precious minutes before Lana let out a frustrated sigh. Pete didn't have a tv; well, actually he did, but he didn't pay the cable cause he didn't care about it. That meant sitting on her ass with nothing to do for god only knew how long, 'Fuck. my. life...' She grabbed the arms of the chair tightly and looked up at the ceiling. It was better than being flirted with by Johnny, but not by a huge margin.
...She needed a smoke.
Lana stood and made her way to what counted for a kitchen, opening the third drawer and pulling out the pack of cigarettes and a spare lighter. Technically she'd never asked permission from him, but she was pretty sure he noticed that a couple of sticks went missing since her last visit or the fact that her breath smelled like cigarette smoke. Most likely he didn't care; getting him to care about her killing someone was like pulling teeth out of a 5 year old, so her smoking shouldn't have even been a blip.
She trudged back to the couch and placed the two cigarettes at her lap, lighting the first one and immediately grimacing at the taste of it on her tongue. Things still tasted like someone took a shit in her mouth, but it helped her calm down all the same so fuck it, 'If only mom could see me now...' Her mom smoked just fine, but if she found out her daughter was doing it? She'd spank her ass till the skin was black and blue, she had no doubt about that.
"Are you...smoking?" Susan asked. Lana gave her a sideways glance and found the blonde looking at her in shock.
"Yeah. What's it to you, princess?" She took the other cigarette and offered it to her, "Why, you want one?"
"No thanks, I don't smoke." Probably didn't do a lot of things, Lana thought to herself. Susan looked down at the offered cancer stick with a grimace and scooted farther on the couch, "Um...does Spider-Man know you...do that?" She was still trying to be polite, though her face was anything but. She looked like she was tempted to gag, "It's hardly appropriate behavior from someone so young."
'If you only knew...' Everyone, herself included up until a while ago, thought Pete was an old man. The way he acted didn't help put that thought out of her mind, "He's not my fucking dad. He can't tell me what not to do," she replied. Not that he ever tried. He wasn't exactly someone Lana would've called affectionate, but she liked him just fine that way.
Better than some smothering mother hen, and it was what she was used to. Her mom loved her, but she'd been pretty hands-off on the parenting front aside from the fact that she didn't like her hanging out with Poey and his friends while her grandma - her new legal guardian - spent most of the day asleep that Lana half-expected the old bat to be dead every time she woke up in the morning.
"I...see." Susan coughed and held onto Spider-Pug tighter, the puppy giving her a comforting lick on her fingers in response. How the damn thing was so well-trained considering Pete wasn't exactly owner material she had no idea, but screw it she wasn't going to complain. Better than getting bit and contracting rabies, "Well...I'll go see if Johnny's alright. He's been quiet ever since he went to Spider-Man's room."
Lana waved her off lazily and sunk into the couch, just letting her mind wander. Her mom still hadn't woken up, but her condition was stable. After she regained consciousness then...well, then what? She wasn't going to be making a living off her back with those new scars on her, and frankly she didn't want her to. She didn't care if she had to drop out of school and hire herself out to S.H.I.E.L.D; if they paid her then she'd take that fucking deal with a smile on her face, even if she would've preferred it if Pete was there with her.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Susan came out of the room in a panic, Spider-Pug chasing after her in a hurry, her eyes wide and her breath shaky, "Johnny's gone!"
The cigarette dropped from her hand and she stood up, face morphed into a scowl, "The fuck do you mean he's gone!?"
"I mean he's not here!" she snapped back, her voice surprisingly fierce, "I checked the room and the window was open! He must've...I think he went out the fire escape!" She grabbed her jacket from the couch and put it on quickly, "Listen, we need to find him now!"
"Oh yeah, we'll just search all of Hell's Kitchen for him! Easy fucking peasy!" Despite her words Lana grabbed her own jacket and was already pulling the hood up, "God, that little fucking turd's gonna get it when I find him! I'm gonna wring his fucking neck!"
"We can decide who does what to him later! For now we need to find him!"
Perfect...just fucking perfect. Her first 'official' gig with Spider-Man and she'd lost the 14 year old she was supposed to be babysitting. She could only hope that Pete was having better luck on his end, cause she had no fucking clue if she wouldn't just put Johnny down herself once she got her hands on him.
"You suck. So hard."
Gwen glared at Peter with the fury of a thousand suns, but sadly he didn't have a single fuck to give, "Price of fame, Gwen. You wanted it, enjoy the benefits." He stopped leaning against the building and crossed his arms in front of his chest, "Besides, isn't this what you wanted when you outed that damn kid? Love to hate to love again; it's like a damn wheel in this place."
A wheel was right. She definitely didn't expect that guy to look like he was going to start crying when she said no, and given all those pics his humiliation would be immortalized on tweeter and quickpic. A shame, but she had more important things to worry about.
"I didn't think people would get so...rabid." MJ and the others warned her, of course, but she thought they were exaggerating. People knew her for 5 years now, surely the novelty would have worn off, right? Apparently not judging by how many people still wanted her autograph, attention or hand in marriage. It was the kind of fame someone like MJ would have found awesome, but right now she was just tired, "And I didn't do it for fame...not with what's happening to Uncle Ben and Aunt May."
"Either way you set the record straight, so stop blaming yourself for what's happening to the Parkers. It's that kid's fault, not yours." 'That kid'...he still refused to even consider the idea that they were one and the same. Frustrating, but she understood why...at least to a certain extent, "Come on, we have to check Dali's place. Maybe we'll get lucky and we can end this before the day's done. I still have other things to do."
"What? Going on a date?" she joked, joining him up the stairs of the nondescript house. Thankfully the neighborhood seemed mostly abandoned save a few stragglers, most of whom seemed to be too busy with their own thing to pay attention to them.
"If you count going with Hardy to visit one of Murdock's warehouses a date, then we're definitely stepping out." He knocked on the door roughly, "After that I have to help Moon Knight gather info on some cult of Khoshnu and help Summers with that drug she's searching for. She's sure that she has a scoop like she did with 'Sin Eater', and I figure I owe her after the help she gave me."
"Wow...and here I was thinking of inviting you to our next gig."
"Wouldn't go even if I was free. The music made my head hurt and I'm surprised no one got a seizure from all the damn lights. The only reason I went last time was because..." He coughed and looked away. He was blushing, she was sure, but she couldn't see it from behind his new mask, "Because I had that stupid crush on you..."
"Are you saying you don't anymore?" She did her best to keep her tone light, but already she felt her inner voice asking what the fuck was wrong with her. It was a sensitive issue, and yet here she was poking fun like it wasn't a big fucking deal, 'You're not in high school any more, Gwen...' she chastised herself mentally. It felt kind of silly telling herself that when she was wearing spandex that might have secretly been an alien, but what could you do?
"Depends. If that kid told you he loved you that night at prom, would you have accepted?"
"Uh..." She blinked, nothing but a few strangled words escaping her mouth. How was she supposed to answer that? She expected him to clam up, or hell deny it right off the bat with a roll of the eyes. It wouldn't exactly have been pleasant, but she knew how to deal with that at least, "Well...you were my best friend, but the thought of dating never really crossed my mind, you know? I mean-"
"Parents are here."
She barely managed out a 'what'?' before the door suddenly opened, an older man with dark rings under his eyes and an unshaven stubble peeking his head out, "Y-Yes, can I help-" His eyes widened at the sight of them both, but Peter was faster and pushed the door open before he could close it, "P-Please, don't hurt us!" He stumbled back, almost tripping over himself as he stepped away from the door, "W-We didn't do anything!"
"We're not here to hurt you." Gwen put up both hands in a calming gesture, her voice soft. Sometimes it felt like playing the good cop was all she did every time she hung out with Peter, "Look, we just want to ask you some questions about your daughter-"
"You know where our daughter is now!?" another voice cut in. Gwen's head snapped to kitchen and she found who she presumed to be the man's wife stepping out, looking just as haggard as her husband. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying (she knew from experience) and and clothes were a mess, hanging off her thin frame loosely, "P-Please, if you know where Piper is then please tell us! We just want to say we're sorry-"
"That's enough, Liza!" The husband - Jason Dali, if she remembered correctly - snapped, his voice rough, "Our daughter is dead...there's nothing more we can do about her."
"...He's lying, but I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that," Peter said, his eyes never leaving the couple, "Look, your little angel's going around stalking film stars and trying to kill em. You don't help us and when we catch her I'm sure the coppers are gonna be real interested why you told everyone she was dead. She's already killed someone, how many years you think you'll get for being accomplices?"
"We're not-"
"Okay, Spider-Man, might wanna tone down the bad cop routine for a bit!" She stood between him and Mr. Dali before the latter could throw a punch, "Look, I understand you're scared, but right now Piper's a danger to herself and to others. If you tell us all you know then we can help her, but if not then she's going to try and kill again. Please, we just want your cooperation and we'll be on our way."
Mr. Dali's eyes shifted between the two of them rapidly before he gave a hesitant nod, "Alright...we'll tell you."
They found themselves sitting at the dining room table. Gwen idly noted the state of the house, 'This place looks like its seen better days...' she thought. The entire place screamed upper middle-class, but the chipping paint and thick coat of dust said a lot of other things; most of them unpleasant, "So..." She took a sip of the offered coffee and suppressed a frown. It tasted like cardboard, "Your daughter?"
"Y-Yes, Piper..." Mrs. Dali dabbed at her eyes and sniffled, "She, um...she was always withdrawn. Preferred to stay in her room, didn't have many friends. Sh-She wasn't bullied at school or anything, but she just didn't like talking with others. Not even us..." She looked down and bit her bottom lip, "T-Then one day she woke up and she was...she'd turned into a-"
"A freak...no offense." Mr. Dali looked down at his own cup of coffee bitterly, "She was...she looked liked she'd been turned into paper and strung around the room, we...we didn't know what to do. She...She hadn't gotten into an accident or anything. She came back from school, went to her room and the next day..." He took a shaky breath, "It happened. We didn't know what to do. We tried our best to help her, but-"
"Stop lying," Peter interrupted, giving the older man a glare she felt even through his mask, "Look, we're not here to play the pity party. Tell us what you did to your daughter and pray that we stop her before she manages to kill anyone else. I don't want to hear any more sob stories about how you did your best or that you gave her tender loving care."
"Spider-Man-"
"He's right..." Mrs. Dali interrupted, her voice hollow, "Piper...when she first got her 'powers', she begged us for help. But we...we were scared..." She cried, making no effort to dab at the leaking tears, "We locked the door, tried to pretend she didn't exist and everything was normal. We could...she scratched at the door, but we just ignored it. Called her school, told them she was sick and she needed a few days off. I guess...we thought that she'd get better at some point on her own."
"Why didn't you call the police...?" Gwen asked. She didn't know how to feel: Anger for the parents that abandoned their daughter or sympathy for them now that they were in grief and dealing with it in their own way?
"And tell them what? That our daughter's some kind of...of mutant!? That she belonged in a padded cell!?" Mr. Dali shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, "We tried to take care of her. We fed her, gave her all the films she liked...it wasn't ideal, and I understand we could've done more, but admitting we screwed up won't help us now. It was better than losing her..."
"Locking your daughter in a room with a few treats isn't how you solve a problem," Peter muttered. Before she could say anything to cut off his callous words he suddenly stood up, "Show us her room. Maybe we can find a clue that'll help us find her."
Piper Dali's room was worse than she expected. The rest of the house looked messy and unkempt, which she at least understood. The room on the other looked...broken: Scattered DVD's all over the floor, a bed with the blankets and mattress sliced haphazardly, and scratches at the door that she had a sinking feeling came from fingers trying to claw at the wood like a cornered animal.
Peter closed the door and knelt down, "There's a slot here...probably where they gave her all this stuff and the food." He pushed open the flap and sighed, "They treated her like an animal...no wonder she went insane."
"Yeah..." She wanted to sympathize with them, but she was finding it increasingly hard to with the evidence piling up. Her dad had been hired to hunt her down like she was a common criminal, but when he saw who it was behind the mask he'd relented. He didn't accept it at first, and she spent the first few days wondering if she'd lost any trust he had in her completely, but he still did his best. He didn't lock her in her room and pretend she didn't exist.
They searched around the plade in uncomfortable silence, each of them taking one half of the room, "Lot's of movies here..." She picked up one of the DVD's and raised an eyebrow. Far be it for her to tell someone what they could and couldn't like, but she didn't even know what most of these were, 'Rise of the Underminer? The hell?' She put down the CD and sighed. This wasn't getting her anywhere.
Peter seemed to have better luck, at least, "Scratch marks here..." He traced a hand through the floor and looked at the cabinet, "...Something's hidden behind there. A secret compartment, maybe?"
"Let's find out." She picked up the cabinet with one hand and set it down gently on the other side of the room. The wall behind it looked no different than the rest of the room, "Uh...I don't see anything."
"I do..." He traced two fingers through the peeling wallpaper till she heard a click and a small square of the wall popped open with a dull thump, "A hidden safe...teenagers in this madhouse are pretty damn paranoid." She rolled her eyes. Yeah, like he was one to talk about paranoia, "...No diary, but there's a scrapbook. Think we'll be able to tell anything from her art projects?"
"Can't hurt." She shrugged and sat on the bed, "Lets take a look."
The pages were filled with pictures of the Storm family...all of them were, actually, 'Fuck, how long's she been collecting these?' She narrowed her eyes. If she remembered right the sitcom started a few years ago, and given how old Susan and Johnny looked in the pictures it was probably shortly after they got started. Was she really so obsessed with the twins that she'd take their photos for years?
"Someone's got a one-track mind..." Peter muttered.
"Yeah. I wonder if her parents knew?" Or cared, a bitter voice asked at the back of her head. She shook her head and turned a few pages ahead, raising an eyebrow at what she saw, "...She's cutting out parts of the pictures." She tapped one of the newer photos. Susan and Johnny posing in front of a statue, the edge awkwardly cut off and leaving a lot of empty space.
"Here, too. Look..." He gestured to another photo on the page. Mary Storm, a fashion model in charge of her own fashion line if she remembered correctly. The picture had her smiling, a pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders suddenly stopping with half the photo gone, "Their mother...their dad keeps getting cut off, though. Has to be a reason for that."
"Maybe..." She turned back to the earlier photos, her eyes narrowed, "Both of their parents were part of the show when they were kids, but now they kinda branched off. The later pictures don't look like set photos, so..." She licked her lips, "When I fought her in the limo she mentioned something about having to do it 'for him'. We know she's obsessed, so you think that maybe she thinks that-"
"Getting rid of the kids and the wife'll get her the grieving husband? I'd say you were reaching, but I dealt with a case like that back home." Or at least what he thought was his home, Gwen thought, "You'd be surprised by how often they think it works."
"Well, I guess we know something now..." She mussed up her hood and sighed. It wasn't good, but it was something, "Call Lana, make sure Susan and Johnny are alright. I'll...clean up here, I guess."
"Right..."
She picked up the scrapbook and stuffed it back into the safe, taking one last glance around the room as she did. Escaping into movies, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong...she couldn't fault her for that, but after what she did she'd gone too far. They had to stop her now, pity be damned, "Just hope it's not too late..." She sighed again. Hopefully this wouldn't have a bad ending.
"Well...bad news," Peter said, stuffing the phone back into his pocket with a click of the tongue, "Lana lost the kid. The younger one that was hitting on you."
"What!?" she screamed, "What do you mean she lost him!?"
"I mean he crawled out of the fire escape while they weren't looking and he's around Hell's Kitchen now." He scoffed, "That's not the worst of it. Their mom's going back to New York City in a few hours for some kind of fancy party. Either she didn't get the memo about her kids or she's not letting it stop her." He stood up, muttering a curse under his breath, "We need to get on this. Now."
"What about Johnny? We need to-"
"This stalker already lost sight of him when you brought him to my place, but we know where Mrs. Storm's gonna be. Party's probably all over the news, and Dollhead's going to be looking for her there. We don't got time to do both." He let out a frustrated breath, "We need to get to that party. Lana can handle looking for Storm on her own. She knows the streets like the back of her hand."
"Are you sure? What if-"
"I trust her. Maybe that's not good enough for you, but it is for me."
"Right..." She wanted so hard to argue, but they didn't have time to waste. She supposed she'd just have to trust his gut that Baumgartner could handle searching for him, "...Any chance we can just crash the party?"
"Invite only. We go there in costume and we'll cause a panic, and something tells me that'll only help Dollhead." He clicked his tongue, "We're gonna need to get an invitation and find a way to warn her without tipping Dollhead off. Maybe we can catch her in the act, even..."
"Yeah...I may have S.H.I.E.L.D sanction, but that doesn't come with invites to fancy parties." She shook her head. All those rumors about her dining on caviar looked really silly right now, "Don't suppose you have a couple of high class invites lying around?"
"Not on me, no, but I know where to get some." He muttered a curse under his breath, "Hardy's already on my case for trying to rescue me from that 'Silk' base, so this is going to cost me. Nothing for it, I guess."
"I'll pay you back-"
"How? She doesn't want your help. Something about you punching her right in the jaw?" He gave her a critical look and she could only laugh awkwardly in response. Not one of her brightest moments, even if she didn't really regret it, "Forget it, let's just go. Hardy's penthouse, I'll meet you there."
"We should go toge-"
He was gone again. Gwen let out a frustrated breath and resisted the urge to yell a curse after him; she didn't need the Dali's thinking she was crazy, "Just great..." She sucked in a deep inhale. Now they had to ask Felicia for a favor, to blend in with the high society types then somehow find a way to warn Mary Storm that someone out there was planning to kill her because she wanted her husband.
Oh, and she was making absolutely no headway on the whole deal with Peter. Could this day get any worse?
...Worried about him.
"Yeah, you and me both-"
...
Who the fuck said that?
"Uh...hello?" She looked around the empty room, finding it devoid of life as expected. She furrowed her brows; was she hearing things? Maybe the chocolate was finally getting to her, "Need to cut back on all those peanut butter cups..."
Don't. Need to feed.
Okay, now she was sure she wasn't imagining things!
Not imagining. Here. With you.
She was about to ask what the fuck 'here' meant before she felt the familiar, comforting warmth at her stomach, "Um..." Oh god, was this really happening? "Webster...is...is that you?" Please god let her be wrong. Let her just be hallucinating; maybe it was a chocolate-induced diabetes dream...yes, she was very well-aware that wasn't a thing, but i made a lot more sense than...whatever this was!
Scared. Don't be. Won't hurt you.
"Web-"
Don't need to talk out loud. Can hear your thoughts.
Her thoughts? What the fuck was happening...? 'Yeah...that's not really comforting right now.' She took a shaky breath and looked down at the suit, pulling at the material experimentally. Still felt the same as before, 'Uh...this is fucking weird. Are you really talking to me right now?'
Yes. Something wrong?
'Wouldn't exactly know how to describe this...' She resisted the urge to pull of her mask and did her best to keep her breathing level, 'Look, can we, uh, deal with this later? Kinda busy right now.' What did it say about her life that the talking alien that she was wearing like spandex wasn't the weirdest thing she'd seen this day? Granted it was up there, but the dimensionally displaced duck was still on her mind.
Know that. Will help if you want?
That was sweet...and kind of creepy, 'Uh...sure, I guess. You've already been doing it since I got you and all...' She shook her head and opened the window, breaking out into a powerful swing. They had to go undercover at a party and, oh yeah, her suit could talk! This day was just a barrel full of fucking laughs...
Well, that's it; both protagonists of the fic are basically schizos :/ (apologies for anyone taking offense, it's a joke). Anyway, yeah...Gwen has a weirdly friendly Venom in her head while Peter has a raging jackass Lizard in his. At the very least Gwen seems to be getting along, but I somehow can't see the Lizard sitting down for tea and crumpets any time soon.
Alright, so a couple of questions that are more for narrative than anything else:
A. Hypothetically, what would you guys' reaction to me pairing Noir and Gwen together? I'm not asking if you think it's feasible - though I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on that as well, if you wish - but rather if you think it's a good idea, bad idea, not important etc etc. As an author I'm torn: I can't see this ending well or lasting long, but meta-wise the potential for drama's definitely there and I've seen worse pairings in comics; *coughGwenandMilescough*.
That and characters in-universe would have pretty funny reactions to it. I mean I can't imagine George Stacy being cool with daughter going out with someone as violent and anti-heroic as Noir, while I can't see most of Noir's allies being very approving of him going out with someone who'd arrest about half of them if given the chance.
B. Even if I only have a flimsy excuse, is it just generally accepted that heroes aren't expected to meddle in each other's villain fights? I mean Noir fights Jack-o-Lantern multiple times and Gwen's never there for any of them. This doesn't break suspension of disbelief, right? I mean the meta reason is because he's one of Noir's personal enemies, but is this okay to the audience reading? I'll try to come up with justifications, of course, but it'll be hit or miss.
Anyway, I read through the two Venom series again and I have to say: I find myself sympathizing heavily with the symbiote in the current chapter. I mean iirc Spider-Man knows Klyntar's been cured of his bloodlust since it told him so during Civil War II, but he still goes along with a plan to trap it via taking advantage of its desires to rejoin him. Makes its hatred of him more justified now more than ever, especially if you remember that the first time he removed it in canon it didn't actually do anything wrong that couldn't have been solved by talking it out.
Also, I read up on Jack-o-Lantern during the Agent Venom run and wow...this guy's even worse than I remembered :/ It'll be a doozy writing him while still trying to keep to the T rating for the fic.
Chapter 45: Weird is the new Normal
What the fuck was happening with her life?
Those were the words that ran through Gwen Stacy's mind as she examined her current situation. The past 4 months had been hectic - more than it had any right to be, in all honesty - but she'd always managed to find a way through it all. Best friend come back to life? Tough, but she'd managed. Having to work together with Frank Castle? Not on her top 10 list, but fuck it she'd done worse. Outing Peter as the Lizard to save her own ass? Not her brightest moment, but it happened and she sucked it up...
...Going to an old-style diner/bar in Hell's Kitchen with Spider-Man and a talking duck while in full costume? That...That was right up there, most definitely.
She looked across the booth at probably the weirdest pair she'd seen since Jess and her dad, '...This is way too fucking weird.' She sunk into the seat and sighed, poking at the bacon and eggs on her plate lazily. She was keenly aware of the fact that just about everyone on the diner was staring at them, most of them not even trying to be subtle with their pictures, tweets and videos, but she paid it no mind. Couldn't be any weirder than...whatever the fuck this was.
"You know, I like this place," Howard said, taking a big gulp of the beer he held in his hands. Gwen supposed she shouldn't have been surprised the talking duck had opposable thumbs, but fuck it she definitely was. Why the fuck did a duck have human hands!? "I mean everybody's looking at us like we're all freaks, but what else is new, huh?" He gave them both a wry smile. Gwen was in no way weirded out by the fact that a beak somehow managed to smile, no siree...
"Probably just curious about what the big-shot celebrity's doing with a couple of jokers like us." Peter gestured to her with a subtle move of the hands, making no move to touch his own breakfast plate or the half a dozen bottles of beer on his side of the table.
"You know I can both hear you, right?" She rolled her eyes, because what else was she gonna do? Her best friend was sitting next to a talking duck like it was no big deal...and to make it worse Jess knew the guy. How she managed to get in touch with a talking duck - and more importantly why she'd never said anything beforehand - she had no fucking clue, but she couldn't exactly swing over to ask. She and dad were already on a case and she didn't exactly feel comfortable leaving Peter behind all on his own with the Ronald Duck wannabe.
She spooned some of the soggy eggs to her mouth and sighed. Going a diner/bar while wearing her (new) full costume wouldn't exactly have been her idea of a typical Saturday morning, but one thing she learned ever since she got bit was that she had to know to deal, 'Could be worse...' she thought, though how exactly it could have gotten any worse she had no fucking clue at this point.
Off to the side she could see a couple of guys probably a few years older than her striding towards the table, their poses the same kind of confident she'd often see on people being sentenced to death row, 'Probably not asking for autographs.' She took a sip of her orange juice. They were looking right at her; they weren't even pretending not to, 'Do they want something?'
Whatever it was she wasn't going to find out. They'd barely managed two steps before their eyes diverted to Peter and they froze up; one of them immediately turned around back to the table he came from while the other lasted a few more seconds before he bolted after his partner in crime, the rest of his (drunk) friends calling all manner of insults she didn't feel comfortable repeating considering how much it involved cats.
Peter didn't even look at them. She doubted he even noticed the show considering how much he was focusing on the duck.
Gwen eyed the two silently. The duck was rambling something about how his best friend 'Bev' left him and that Jess was lording favors over his head over an incident with someone named 'Dr. Bong'...yeah, at this point she was pretty sure he was pulling more than eggs out of his ass, 'Why the fuck would Jess think he could help us...'? She bit into the bacon moodily. When the day was done the two of them were gonna have words.
"So how'd you get into the P.I gig?" Peter asked.
'Seriously?' She sighed, the two once again ignoring her. Most of the time she could barely get 2 words out of him, but now here he was being a blabbermouth like the time Betty made the mistake of asking him about his D and D campaign. It was probably the first and last time she'd seen the brunette gape like a fish and make an excuse to avoid having to listen to her best friend ramble about his character's fictional backstory.
"Eh, you know. Figured it was an easy gig. If Jones could do it then so could I, right?" He took a drag of his cigar - how did a talking duck afford those? - and shrugged, "Let me tell ya, kid; it ain't glamorous. Everyone watches Vice City and figures it's about criminal conspiracies, sexy dames and snappy suits. Truth is you spend most of your time looking for randy husbands wetting their pecker where it don't belong or some schmucks who think they can fake a seizure to get some insurance pay."
"I imagine..." He smiled slightly - the fuck? - and leaned back on the seat, "Guess there are some things that haven't changed even in this Madhouse." He laughed...laughed! What the hell was happening!? "Listen, you need any help with your cases then just call me. I'm busy a lot of the time nowadays, but it'll be good to do something to unwind every now and then. Think about it."
"Help? Last time I got that Jones' been holding it over my head ever since." He let out a smoky breath, "But hell, I guess I can't afford to turn away help, can I? Sure, I need something I'll give Spider-Man a call. Matter of fact there's actually been this rash of senior citizens mugging people and-"
"Alright, I'm gonna have to cut in here," Gwen said, "Look, as fascinating as all this is, we do have a problem we're dealing with now. So..." She set aside her plate and cleared some desperately needed room, "Jess told us to go after you for a reason, so do you actually know anything about this weirdo stalker chick or do we have to go somewhere else?"
"Yeah, yeah. Keep your spandex on." Howard adjusted his place on the seat and pulled out the folder from...somewhere. Did he just store things up his ass or something? She had a possible alien on her, so that at least made sense...well, no it didn't, but whatever, "So, let me just make sure I've got this right: This dame you're after. Blue suit, gray skin, beady yellow eyes and ranting something about how she just 'had to do it' because of whatever?"
"...More or less." She raised an eyebrow. That was oddly specific considering she hadn't given much details yet, "You mentioned getting involved with her before, right?"
"Yeah...involved." He opened the folder and tapped a disturbingly human finger at a blurry picture, "Ran into this crazy doll before. A client of mine, old star from the 90's, she said she was being stalked by someone. Vague on details, so I followed her around and to see if she was telling the truth. Out-stalk the stalker, if you catch my drift." He rubbed the cigar on the ashtray, "It...didn't go so well."
"She died?" Peter asked.
"Not exactly." He sighed, "Got paranoid as all hell. Says that the dame - called her 'a paper doll' - was everywhere. She wakes up and she's there, goes to work and she's writing her messages and threats...it was too much for her. She paid my fee and told me she was leaving the country, going somewhere that she wouldn't be followed." He looked down at the picture again, "Guess she succeeded if the blue doll's still here."
"A stalker, yeah, but not a murderer." She shuddered at the memory of the completely flat driver, "Did she show you the threats? What they said?"
"Nah, think she was too scared to do that or she probably would've called the police." He pulled out a sheet of paper from the stack and handed it to her, "I tried to investigate the case myself, but I got a dead end. Found her family, or at least I think they're her family, but I never got anything out of em. Parents kept mum, said their daughter was dead and that they weren't gonna tell me nothing."
"You believe that?" she asked, looking down at the paper. The information was bare-bones and the handwriting was atrocious, but she got the gist of it: Piper Dali, born to Jason and Liza Dali. Nothing outstanding about her, which made it easy for no one to look or care when their daughter died under 'mysterious circumstances' with no funeral or family coming to visit. Months ago she would have dismissed it as coincidence, but after what happened with Maxine she'd learned not to be so careless.
"Nah, but what was I gonna do? I was out a client and a 3 foot duck ain't exactly intimidating. Maybe you two heroes will have better luck." He shrugged and looked at them both in turn, "Look, you two look like you can handle this just fine. I ain't gonna be much help to either of you's, but if you need another nudge in the right direction then you know where I'll be." He stepped off the booth and put on his hat again, "...Thanks for the drinks."
"You're welcome." Peter watched the duck go with a nod before looking down at the folder, "...Address isn't far from here. We could probably make it there before noon if we hurry up."
"Yeah, I guess so..." She licked both lips and sighed, lowering her mask to cover the bottom half of her face again, "Something doesn't add up. Howard mentioned that woman was stalked, but she wasn't killed. When I met this 'PaperDoll' she killed that driver and she was trying to kill the Storms. That's a far cry from stalking someone, right? There has to be something we're missing."
"Not always." He pulled up his own mouth-flap and re-attached it with a deft click, "Killing ain't easy, I'll give you that, but you'd be surprised how quickly some people can cross that line. Just look at me..."
"Spider-Man..." God, she hated thinking about it. Her best friend, his memories warped beyond imagining, and now he didn't even blink at the thought of shooting someone between the eyes. The worst part of it was a part of couldn't help but think this was better. Better than the angry young man who'd turned himself into a giant Lizard just for the sake of revenge, better than the friend who secretly despised Harry for reasons she couldn't really understand.
Sometimes she wondered if things would've been better or worse if he kept his memories or not...
"I don't wanna go into another debate, Spider-Woman. We have to deal with this Paper Doll dame first." He pulled out a stack of bills and placed them near the plates, "Come on, let's go. This place is giving me a headache."
Unfortunately things were never simple. The pair were only halfway through the entrance before the same two guys from last time blocked their way, their postures shaky, 'Oh, lord...' She eyed their cheering friends and frowned. She knew what was coming; a group of drunken friends dared the most gullible in the group to do something stupid now that they all had a little liquid courage. She'd been on both ends of more than a few embarrassing dares herself.
"H-Hey!" The first one said. Tall, well-built and tan; most people would have called him handsome, but the way he was shaking only reminded her of a giant pair of marracas, "We...uh, I mean me and my friends..." He looked back at his friend and shook his head in a panic, "Fuck, dude, I can't do this! She's a damn Superhero!" He whispered...or at least she thought he might have been whispering. It sounded like he was screaming it out for the entire diner/bar to hear.
"Y-You can do this, man!" His friend - shorter, stockier and just as shaky - clapped him on the back encouragingly, "You fucking got this!"
"Uh..." Gwen looked at Peter, but he only shook his head and let out a scoff. It wasn't very helpful, "Could we...help you two-"
"Will you go out with me!?"
A stifling silence settled over the entire room. All around them Gwen saw the assorted crowds of people lose any sense of subtlety in favor of openly staring, some of them even gaping openly like they had something stuck in their throat. For her part Gwen just looked at the shaky young man, an eyebrow raised. Months ago she would have counted herself lucky not to get spat at when she rescued someone from certain death, but now everyone was singing her praises like she was Justin Bieber in front of a horde of his fangirls. It was both flattering and creepy.
That of course came with a lot of people confessing love on the internet. She'd seen it enough times not to be shocked, but a part of her was still surprised to be on the end of the praise rather than just a spectator. Still, this was probably the first time someone had done it when all attention was focused on them; usually it was a crowd of people, all their voices mixing into one another and making it hard to understand them. Other times it was anonymous declarations on the net; which Betty and MJ had no problem screencapping to make fun of her with, the little harpies.
"Um..." she mumbled intelligently, because that was the only thing that came to mind right then and there. Usually this would've been her cue to swing away with some half-assed excuse about Bodega Bandit robbing the Bucky Barnes or something, but the two were blocking the way to the entrance and between them and the dead fucking quiet crowd any excuses she had died on her lips.
Thankfully(?) Peter decided to talk for her, "We don't have time for games, kid." He clicked his tongue. Gwen declined to comment on the fact that Peter was about half a decade younger and at least a few inches shorter than the 'kid' in question, "Go back to your friends and-"
"H-Hey, back off, gramps! She ain't your girlfriend or anything!" The portly wingman spoke up; likely more to the alcohol than any genuine bravado on his part.
The quiet went from awkward to tense. Gwen heard more than a few gasps and scared mutters from the other customers, a few of them bolting to the exits outright in a panic. Even the wingman's eyes widened and he raised up both hands in a calming gesture, "Gramps...?" Peter muttered, his voice hard to make out even through the painful silence. Despite (or because of) that, though, he saw more than a few people's breath hitch.
"I-I didn't m-mean a-a-anything by it." The wingman stuttered, "L-Look, let's all calm down...okay?"
She knew about Peter's reputation. She didn't like it, but like her a few months ago the city was torn about him: One half saw him as the 'hero the city needed', a 'dark avenger' or some other bullshit that did the things the other heroes and vigilantes refused to do. The other half...well, all she could say was that 'murderer' was probably one of the more polite things they called him. He didn't have the years of built up goodwill, and it didn't help that he seemed to find no problem shoving a gun to someone's kneecaps and pulling the trigger.
Gwen didn't know what to expect. A part of her thought he'd start a bar brawl by decking the guy in the face, and really that at least she would have understood; he didn't seem to hesitate to do what he thought was the quickest way to get out of a situation.
She definitely wasn't expecting him to laugh under his breath like he'd been told a joke.
"Gramps...heh, I like it." He stuffed his hands to his pockets and turned to her, "You know what, I'll go on ahead to Dali's place. Meet up with me when you get done with your new boyfriend."
"Spider-Man, don't you-" Too late. The words were barely out of her mouth before he stepped past the pair and disappeared past the entrance...and she meant that last part literally; she lost sight of him as soon as he stepped into the crowd of people gathered outside the diner, wisps of dark smoke coming and going before he disappeared completely from her sight.
That...was new.
Unfortunately she didn't get the chance to question it further. Without Peter at her side all attention was drawn to her now, her would-be admirer even looking like he was a hair's breath away from getting onto one knee and pulling a rose out of his ass, "S-So..." He licked his lips nervously and stepped forward, hands wringing together so tightly he looked like he was trying to snap his fingers off, "What do you say...?"
Peter was gonna pay for this. Hard.
Sitting on her ass watching a couple of teenyboppers...really not how she wanted to spend her Saturday.
Lana sighed and brought a hand through her face, doing her best to ignore the rising sense of irritation she felt. She could've been out there right now with her friends, maybe taking care of strays with Chat or trying to tempt Kamala with bacon, but instead she was sitting on her ass in Pete's crappy-ass apartment watching a couple of child stars and making sure some stalker didn't get them because...well, because it was the right thing to do, she guessed.
And she could get behind that, totally, but if she ever thought about taking the vigilante gig - which was more and more tempting by the day, really - she definitely would have preferred taking down pimps, rapists and killers over watching a couple of America's golden children like a fucking babysitter.
'You fucking owe me for this, Pete.' She leaned back on the chair and watched little miss perfect. The blonde was sitting at the couch, Spider-Pug - Pete wouldn't have called it that, but fuck it she wasn't going to call it 'dog' like he was - sitting on her lap half-asleep. She hadn't said anything ever since Pete and Spider-Woman left aside from a few mumbled coos to dog (which didn't really count), but it suited Lana just fine. She didn't really wanna deal with her crying...
It wasn't that she was unsympathetic - she knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of a madman's crosshairs - but she didn't see what the big deal was. She and her mom couldn't call the police, they wouldn't have given a shit about a prostitute and her bastard daughter, but a couple of stars on one of America's most popular sitcoms? Shit, they'd get a fucking SWAT team just for the two of them with a snap of the finger.
"Something wrong, Lana? Want to talk to me about it?"
Oh yeah, there was another reason she was pissed off: Johnny Storm had the libido of a horny old man even though she was pretty fucking sure he was, what, 14?
"My mom says I'm a good listener, I could-"
"Back the fuck off or I'll blow away with little pubes you have." She pointed a glowing hand at the younger teen. The gesture was hollow - they all knew she wouldn't risk blowing his nuts off just for being annoying - but the annoyed growl in her voice was enough to make him back off...at least for the next 7 minutes or so. This was the 4th time in the past hour he'd tried to offer her a massage to 'get those stressed knots out of her shoulders' or some other bullshit.
'Kill me now...' She groaned and covered her face with both hands. She'd dealt with horny assholes before; some of them even younger than Storm was, if one could believe it, but at least then she wasn't trying to make sure they didn't get hurt. Usually anyone who tried to cop a feel because they thought she was like her mom got a kick to a balls or a fist to their nose. That made them back off right fucking quick.
"Sorry about Johnny." Susan said as soon as the younger Storm was out of the room. He'd be back in a few minutes, but she'd relish the time he was gone, "I know he can be...difficult." Lana rolled her eyes. It wasn't the word she would have used, but Susan was a hell of a lot less annoying than her little brother so she'd pretend there was a swear jar or something, "He's just trying not to be scared in his own way."
"Yeah, well I'd appreciate if 'his own way' didn't involve trying to look at my tits." Well...so much for the swear jar. Susan blinked twice before she gave a dainty fucking cough and looked away with a slight blush. How sheltered was this chick? "...Look, I'm sure it'll be fine. Pe- er, Spider-Man and Spider-Woman will catch this stalker, kick her ass and then you'll be back on your fancy filmset making the next shitty season of Fantastic 4."
Susan looked down at Spider-Pug and bit her lower lip before she said, "Lana...do you not like me? Did I do something to make you mad?"
"No, it's not you." She rolled her eyes and slouched on the seat, "I'm just pissed off at Spider-Man giving me the babysitting detail. I mean he tells me over and over again he doesn't want a partner and that he doesn't need any help with the vigilante gig, but the second he needs someone to play the fucking nanny suddenly he needs my help? Gimme a fucking break." She clicked her tongue, "So yeah, don't worry about it, you're not the one I'm pissed at."
"I see..."
The silence lasted for a few more precious minutes before Lana let out a frustrated sigh. Pete didn't have a tv; well, actually he did, but he didn't pay the cable cause he didn't care about it. That meant sitting on her ass with nothing to do for god only knew how long, 'Fuck. my. life...' She grabbed the arms of the chair tightly and looked up at the ceiling. It was better than being flirted with by Johnny, but not by a huge margin.
...She needed a smoke.
Lana stood and made her way to what counted for a kitchen, opening the third drawer and pulling out the pack of cigarettes and a spare lighter. Technically she'd never asked permission from him, but she was pretty sure he noticed that a couple of sticks went missing since her last visit or the fact that her breath smelled like cigarette smoke. Most likely he didn't care; getting him to care about her killing someone was like pulling teeth out of a 5 year old, so her smoking shouldn't have even been a blip.
She trudged back to the couch and placed the two cigarettes at her lap, lighting the first one and immediately grimacing at the taste of it on her tongue. Things still tasted like someone took a shit in her mouth, but it helped her calm down all the same so fuck it, 'If only mom could see me now...' Her mom smoked just fine, but if she found out her daughter was doing it? She'd spank her ass till the skin was black and blue, she had no doubt about that.
"Are you...smoking?" Susan asked. Lana gave her a sideways glance and found the blonde looking at her in shock.
"Yeah. What's it to you, princess?" She took the other cigarette and offered it to her, "Why, you want one?"
"No thanks, I don't smoke." Probably didn't do a lot of things, Lana thought to herself. Susan looked down at the offered cancer stick with a grimace and scooted farther on the couch, "Um...does Spider-Man know you...do that?" She was still trying to be polite, though her face was anything but. She looked like she was tempted to gag, "It's hardly appropriate behavior from someone so young."
'If you only knew...' Everyone, herself included up until a while ago, thought Pete was an old man. The way he acted didn't help put that thought out of her mind, "He's not my fucking dad. He can't tell me what not to do," she replied. Not that he ever tried. He wasn't exactly someone Lana would've called affectionate, but she liked him just fine that way.
Better than some smothering mother hen, and it was what she was used to. Her mom loved her, but she'd been pretty hands-off on the parenting front aside from the fact that she didn't like her hanging out with Poey and his friends while her grandma - her new legal guardian - spent most of the day asleep that Lana half-expected the old bat to be dead every time she woke up in the morning.
"I...see." Susan coughed and held onto Spider-Pug tighter, the puppy giving her a comforting lick on her fingers in response. How the damn thing was so well-trained considering Pete wasn't exactly owner material she had no idea, but screw it she wasn't going to complain. Better than getting bit and contracting rabies, "Well...I'll go see if Johnny's alright. He's been quiet ever since he went to Spider-Man's room."
Lana waved her off lazily and sunk into the couch, just letting her mind wander. Her mom still hadn't woken up, but her condition was stable. After she regained consciousness then...well, then what? She wasn't going to be making a living off her back with those new scars on her, and frankly she didn't want her to. She didn't care if she had to drop out of school and hire herself out to S.H.I.E.L.D; if they paid her then she'd take that fucking deal with a smile on her face, even if she would've preferred it if Pete was there with her.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Susan came out of the room in a panic, Spider-Pug chasing after her in a hurry, her eyes wide and her breath shaky, "Johnny's gone!"
The cigarette dropped from her hand and she stood up, face morphed into a scowl, "The fuck do you mean he's gone!?"
"I mean he's not here!" she snapped back, her voice surprisingly fierce, "I checked the room and the window was open! He must've...I think he went out the fire escape!" She grabbed her jacket from the couch and put it on quickly, "Listen, we need to find him now!"
"Oh yeah, we'll just search all of Hell's Kitchen for him! Easy fucking peasy!" Despite her words Lana grabbed her own jacket and was already pulling the hood up, "God, that little fucking turd's gonna get it when I find him! I'm gonna wring his fucking neck!"
"We can decide who does what to him later! For now we need to find him!"
Perfect...just fucking perfect. Her first 'official' gig with Spider-Man and she'd lost the 14 year old she was supposed to be babysitting. She could only hope that Pete was having better luck on his end, cause she had no fucking clue if she wouldn't just put Johnny down herself once she got her hands on him.
"You suck. So hard."
Gwen glared at Peter with the fury of a thousand suns, but sadly he didn't have a single fuck to give, "Price of fame, Gwen. You wanted it, enjoy the benefits." He stopped leaning against the building and crossed his arms in front of his chest, "Besides, isn't this what you wanted when you outed that damn kid? Love to hate to love again; it's like a damn wheel in this place."
A wheel was right. She definitely didn't expect that guy to look like he was going to start crying when she said no, and given all those pics his humiliation would be immortalized on tweeter and quickpic. A shame, but she had more important things to worry about.
"I didn't think people would get so...rabid." MJ and the others warned her, of course, but she thought they were exaggerating. People knew her for 5 years now, surely the novelty would have worn off, right? Apparently not judging by how many people still wanted her autograph, attention or hand in marriage. It was the kind of fame someone like MJ would have found awesome, but right now she was just tired, "And I didn't do it for fame...not with what's happening to Uncle Ben and Aunt May."
"Either way you set the record straight, so stop blaming yourself for what's happening to the Parkers. It's that kid's fault, not yours." 'That kid'...he still refused to even consider the idea that they were one and the same. Frustrating, but she understood why...at least to a certain extent, "Come on, we have to check Dali's place. Maybe we'll get lucky and we can end this before the day's done. I still have other things to do."
"What? Going on a date?" she joked, joining him up the stairs of the nondescript house. Thankfully the neighborhood seemed mostly abandoned save a few stragglers, most of whom seemed to be too busy with their own thing to pay attention to them.
"If you count going with Hardy to visit one of Murdock's warehouses a date, then we're definitely stepping out." He knocked on the door roughly, "After that I have to help Moon Knight gather info on some cult of Khoshnu and help Summers with that drug she's searching for. She's sure that she has a scoop like she did with 'Sin Eater', and I figure I owe her after the help she gave me."
"Wow...and here I was thinking of inviting you to our next gig."
"Wouldn't go even if I was free. The music made my head hurt and I'm surprised no one got a seizure from all the damn lights. The only reason I went last time was because..." He coughed and looked away. He was blushing, she was sure, but she couldn't see it from behind his new mask, "Because I had that stupid crush on you..."
"Are you saying you don't anymore?" She did her best to keep her tone light, but already she felt her inner voice asking what the fuck was wrong with her. It was a sensitive issue, and yet here she was poking fun like it wasn't a big fucking deal, 'You're not in high school any more, Gwen...' she chastised herself mentally. It felt kind of silly telling herself that when she was wearing spandex that might have secretly been an alien, but what could you do?
"Depends. If that kid told you he loved you that night at prom, would you have accepted?"
"Uh..." She blinked, nothing but a few strangled words escaping her mouth. How was she supposed to answer that? She expected him to clam up, or hell deny it right off the bat with a roll of the eyes. It wouldn't exactly have been pleasant, but she knew how to deal with that at least, "Well...you were my best friend, but the thought of dating never really crossed my mind, you know? I mean-"
"Parents are here."
She barely managed out a 'what'?' before the door suddenly opened, an older man with dark rings under his eyes and an unshaven stubble peeking his head out, "Y-Yes, can I help-" His eyes widened at the sight of them both, but Peter was faster and pushed the door open before he could close it, "P-Please, don't hurt us!" He stumbled back, almost tripping over himself as he stepped away from the door, "W-We didn't do anything!"
"We're not here to hurt you." Gwen put up both hands in a calming gesture, her voice soft. Sometimes it felt like playing the good cop was all she did every time she hung out with Peter, "Look, we just want to ask you some questions about your daughter-"
"You know where our daughter is now!?" another voice cut in. Gwen's head snapped to kitchen and she found who she presumed to be the man's wife stepping out, looking just as haggard as her husband. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying (she knew from experience) and and clothes were a mess, hanging off her thin frame loosely, "P-Please, if you know where Piper is then please tell us! We just want to say we're sorry-"
"That's enough, Liza!" The husband - Jason Dali, if she remembered correctly - snapped, his voice rough, "Our daughter is dead...there's nothing more we can do about her."
"...He's lying, but I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that," Peter said, his eyes never leaving the couple, "Look, your little angel's going around stalking film stars and trying to kill em. You don't help us and when we catch her I'm sure the coppers are gonna be real interested why you told everyone she was dead. She's already killed someone, how many years you think you'll get for being accomplices?"
"We're not-"
"Okay, Spider-Man, might wanna tone down the bad cop routine for a bit!" She stood between him and Mr. Dali before the latter could throw a punch, "Look, I understand you're scared, but right now Piper's a danger to herself and to others. If you tell us all you know then we can help her, but if not then she's going to try and kill again. Please, we just want your cooperation and we'll be on our way."
Mr. Dali's eyes shifted between the two of them rapidly before he gave a hesitant nod, "Alright...we'll tell you."
They found themselves sitting at the dining room table. Gwen idly noted the state of the house, 'This place looks like its seen better days...' she thought. The entire place screamed upper middle-class, but the chipping paint and thick coat of dust said a lot of other things; most of them unpleasant, "So..." She took a sip of the offered coffee and suppressed a frown. It tasted like cardboard, "Your daughter?"
"Y-Yes, Piper..." Mrs. Dali dabbed at her eyes and sniffled, "She, um...she was always withdrawn. Preferred to stay in her room, didn't have many friends. Sh-She wasn't bullied at school or anything, but she just didn't like talking with others. Not even us..." She looked down and bit her bottom lip, "T-Then one day she woke up and she was...she'd turned into a-"
"A freak...no offense." Mr. Dali looked down at his own cup of coffee bitterly, "She was...she looked liked she'd been turned into paper and strung around the room, we...we didn't know what to do. She...She hadn't gotten into an accident or anything. She came back from school, went to her room and the next day..." He took a shaky breath, "It happened. We didn't know what to do. We tried our best to help her, but-"
"Stop lying," Peter interrupted, giving the older man a glare she felt even through his mask, "Look, we're not here to play the pity party. Tell us what you did to your daughter and pray that we stop her before she manages to kill anyone else. I don't want to hear any more sob stories about how you did your best or that you gave her tender loving care."
"Spider-Man-"
"He's right..." Mrs. Dali interrupted, her voice hollow, "Piper...when she first got her 'powers', she begged us for help. But we...we were scared..." She cried, making no effort to dab at the leaking tears, "We locked the door, tried to pretend she didn't exist and everything was normal. We could...she scratched at the door, but we just ignored it. Called her school, told them she was sick and she needed a few days off. I guess...we thought that she'd get better at some point on her own."
"Why didn't you call the police...?" Gwen asked. She didn't know how to feel: Anger for the parents that abandoned their daughter or sympathy for them now that they were in grief and dealing with it in their own way?
"And tell them what? That our daughter's some kind of...of mutant!? That she belonged in a padded cell!?" Mr. Dali shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, "We tried to take care of her. We fed her, gave her all the films she liked...it wasn't ideal, and I understand we could've done more, but admitting we screwed up won't help us now. It was better than losing her..."
"Locking your daughter in a room with a few treats isn't how you solve a problem," Peter muttered. Before she could say anything to cut off his callous words he suddenly stood up, "Show us her room. Maybe we can find a clue that'll help us find her."
Piper Dali's room was worse than she expected. The rest of the house looked messy and unkempt, which she at least understood. The room on the other looked...broken: Scattered DVD's all over the floor, a bed with the blankets and mattress sliced haphazardly, and scratches at the door that she had a sinking feeling came from fingers trying to claw at the wood like a cornered animal.
Peter closed the door and knelt down, "There's a slot here...probably where they gave her all this stuff and the food." He pushed open the flap and sighed, "They treated her like an animal...no wonder she went insane."
"Yeah..." She wanted to sympathize with them, but she was finding it increasingly hard to with the evidence piling up. Her dad had been hired to hunt her down like she was a common criminal, but when he saw who it was behind the mask he'd relented. He didn't accept it at first, and she spent the first few days wondering if she'd lost any trust he had in her completely, but he still did his best. He didn't lock her in her room and pretend she didn't exist.
They searched around the plade in uncomfortable silence, each of them taking one half of the room, "Lot's of movies here..." She picked up one of the DVD's and raised an eyebrow. Far be it for her to tell someone what they could and couldn't like, but she didn't even know what most of these were, 'Rise of the Underminer? The hell?' She put down the CD and sighed. This wasn't getting her anywhere.
Peter seemed to have better luck, at least, "Scratch marks here..." He traced a hand through the floor and looked at the cabinet, "...Something's hidden behind there. A secret compartment, maybe?"
"Let's find out." She picked up the cabinet with one hand and set it down gently on the other side of the room. The wall behind it looked no different than the rest of the room, "Uh...I don't see anything."
"I do..." He traced two fingers through the peeling wallpaper till she heard a click and a small square of the wall popped open with a dull thump, "A hidden safe...teenagers in this madhouse are pretty damn paranoid." She rolled her eyes. Yeah, like he was one to talk about paranoia, "...No diary, but there's a scrapbook. Think we'll be able to tell anything from her art projects?"
"Can't hurt." She shrugged and sat on the bed, "Lets take a look."
The pages were filled with pictures of the Storm family...all of them were, actually, 'Fuck, how long's she been collecting these?' She narrowed her eyes. If she remembered right the sitcom started a few years ago, and given how old Susan and Johnny looked in the pictures it was probably shortly after they got started. Was she really so obsessed with the twins that she'd take their photos for years?
"Someone's got a one-track mind..." Peter muttered.
"Yeah. I wonder if her parents knew?" Or cared, a bitter voice asked at the back of her head. She shook her head and turned a few pages ahead, raising an eyebrow at what she saw, "...She's cutting out parts of the pictures." She tapped one of the newer photos. Susan and Johnny posing in front of a statue, the edge awkwardly cut off and leaving a lot of empty space.
"Here, too. Look..." He gestured to another photo on the page. Mary Storm, a fashion model in charge of her own fashion line if she remembered correctly. The picture had her smiling, a pair of arms wrapped around her shoulders suddenly stopping with half the photo gone, "Their mother...their dad keeps getting cut off, though. Has to be a reason for that."
"Maybe..." She turned back to the earlier photos, her eyes narrowed, "Both of their parents were part of the show when they were kids, but now they kinda branched off. The later pictures don't look like set photos, so..." She licked her lips, "When I fought her in the limo she mentioned something about having to do it 'for him'. We know she's obsessed, so you think that maybe she thinks that-"
"Getting rid of the kids and the wife'll get her the grieving husband? I'd say you were reaching, but I dealt with a case like that back home." Or at least what he thought was his home, Gwen thought, "You'd be surprised by how often they think it works."
"Well, I guess we know something now..." She mussed up her hood and sighed. It wasn't good, but it was something, "Call Lana, make sure Susan and Johnny are alright. I'll...clean up here, I guess."
"Right..."
She picked up the scrapbook and stuffed it back into the safe, taking one last glance around the room as she did. Escaping into movies, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong...she couldn't fault her for that, but after what she did she'd gone too far. They had to stop her now, pity be damned, "Just hope it's not too late..." She sighed again. Hopefully this wouldn't have a bad ending.
"Well...bad news," Peter said, stuffing the phone back into his pocket with a click of the tongue, "Lana lost the kid. The younger one that was hitting on you."
"What!?" she screamed, "What do you mean she lost him!?"
"I mean he crawled out of the fire escape while they weren't looking and he's around Hell's Kitchen now." He scoffed, "That's not the worst of it. Their mom's going back to New York City in a few hours for some kind of fancy party. Either she didn't get the memo about her kids or she's not letting it stop her." He stood up, muttering a curse under his breath, "We need to get on this. Now."
"What about Johnny? We need to-"
"This stalker already lost sight of him when you brought him to my place, but we know where Mrs. Storm's gonna be. Party's probably all over the news, and Dollhead's going to be looking for her there. We don't got time to do both." He let out a frustrated breath, "We need to get to that party. Lana can handle looking for Storm on her own. She knows the streets like the back of her hand."
"Are you sure? What if-"
"I trust her. Maybe that's not good enough for you, but it is for me."
"Right..." She wanted so hard to argue, but they didn't have time to waste. She supposed she'd just have to trust his gut that Baumgartner could handle searching for him, "...Any chance we can just crash the party?"
"Invite only. We go there in costume and we'll cause a panic, and something tells me that'll only help Dollhead." He clicked his tongue, "We're gonna need to get an invitation and find a way to warn her without tipping Dollhead off. Maybe we can catch her in the act, even..."
"Yeah...I may have S.H.I.E.L.D sanction, but that doesn't come with invites to fancy parties." She shook her head. All those rumors about her dining on caviar looked really silly right now, "Don't suppose you have a couple of high class invites lying around?"
"Not on me, no, but I know where to get some." He muttered a curse under his breath, "Hardy's already on my case for trying to rescue me from that 'Silk' base, so this is going to cost me. Nothing for it, I guess."
"I'll pay you back-"
"How? She doesn't want your help. Something about you punching her right in the jaw?" He gave her a critical look and she could only laugh awkwardly in response. Not one of her brightest moments, even if she didn't really regret it, "Forget it, let's just go. Hardy's penthouse, I'll meet you there."
"We should go toge-"
He was gone again. Gwen let out a frustrated breath and resisted the urge to yell a curse after him; she didn't need the Dali's thinking she was crazy, "Just great..." She sucked in a deep inhale. Now they had to ask Felicia for a favor, to blend in with the high society types then somehow find a way to warn Mary Storm that someone out there was planning to kill her because she wanted her husband.
Oh, and she was making absolutely no headway on the whole deal with Peter. Could this day get any worse?
...Worried about him.
"Yeah, you and me both-"
...
Who the fuck said that?
"Uh...hello?" She looked around the empty room, finding it devoid of life as expected. She furrowed her brows; was she hearing things? Maybe the chocolate was finally getting to her, "Need to cut back on all those peanut butter cups..."
Don't. Need to feed.
Okay, now she was sure she wasn't imagining things!
Not imagining. Here. With you.
She was about to ask what the fuck 'here' meant before she felt the familiar, comforting warmth at her stomach, "Um..." Oh god, was this really happening? "Webster...is...is that you?" Please god let her be wrong. Let her just be hallucinating; maybe it was a chocolate-induced diabetes dream...yes, she was very well-aware that wasn't a thing, but i made a lot more sense than...whatever this was!
Scared. Don't be. Won't hurt you.
"Web-"
Don't need to talk out loud. Can hear your thoughts.
Her thoughts? What the fuck was happening...? 'Yeah...that's not really comforting right now.' She took a shaky breath and looked down at the suit, pulling at the material experimentally. Still felt the same as before, 'Uh...this is fucking weird. Are you really talking to me right now?'
Yes. Something wrong?
'Wouldn't exactly know how to describe this...' She resisted the urge to pull of her mask and did her best to keep her breathing level, 'Look, can we, uh, deal with this later? Kinda busy right now.' What did it say about her life that the talking alien that she was wearing like spandex wasn't the weirdest thing she'd seen this day? Granted it was up there, but the dimensionally displaced duck was still on her mind.
Know that. Will help if you want?
That was sweet...and kind of creepy, 'Uh...sure, I guess. You've already been doing it since I got you and all...' She shook her head and opened the window, breaking out into a powerful swing. They had to go undercover at a party and, oh yeah, her suit could talk! This day was just a barrel full of fucking laughs...
Well, that's it; both protagonists of the fic are basically schizos :/ (apologies for anyone taking offense, it's a joke). Anyway, yeah...Gwen has a weirdly friendly Venom in her head while Peter has a raging jackass Lizard in his. At the very least Gwen seems to be getting along, but I somehow can't see the Lizard sitting down for tea and crumpets any time soon.
Alright, so a couple of questions that are more for narrative than anything else:
A. Hypothetically, what would you guys' reaction to me pairing Noir and Gwen together? I'm not asking if you think it's feasible - though I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on that as well, if you wish - but rather if you think it's a good idea, bad idea, not important etc etc. As an author I'm torn: I can't see this ending well or lasting long, but meta-wise the potential for drama's definitely there and I've seen worse pairings in comics; *coughGwenandMilescough*.
That and characters in-universe would have pretty funny reactions to it. I mean I can't imagine George Stacy being cool with daughter going out with someone as violent and anti-heroic as Noir, while I can't see most of Noir's allies being very approving of him going out with someone who'd arrest about half of them if given the chance.
B. Even if I only have a flimsy excuse, is it just generally accepted that heroes aren't expected to meddle in each other's villain fights? I mean Noir fights Jack-o-Lantern multiple times and Gwen's never there for any of them. This doesn't break suspension of disbelief, right? I mean the meta reason is because he's one of Noir's personal enemies, but is this okay to the audience reading? I'll try to come up with justifications, of course, but it'll be hit or miss.
