Lone Courier 6
Devilish Fool
- Location
- United States of Quests
I don't mind Webster/Venom, hell if anything it's increased focus would make a future Carnage arc all the more interesting.
Through the Looking Glass (Spider-Gwen/Spider-Man Noir Crossover)
- Thread starter Eratas123
- Start date
Carnage arc is definitely Gwen-focused, especially given that Noir is left to fight the much weaker and yet equally psychotic Shriek as his antagonist rather than every trying to openly combat Kasady; both he and Gwen know he'd be gutted like a fish if he tried. Bright side Shriek is also Gwen's achilles heel with that sonic shriek of hers, so Peter isn't useless.
Still, the worry does remain. Venom gaining independence makes me wonder if Gwen's character now has to be split in half between them since now she has a permanent partner rather than a power up.
Loktarogar
The Apex of Cuddling
- Location
- Brazil
Making Venom independent would help the story greatly IMO, but this is more my preference of seeing MCs work a lot to win their fights talking 
Also, Awkward Webster learning 'How to act like a human 101' would be amusing to watch.
Also, Awkward Webster learning 'How to act like a human 101' would be amusing to watch.
Making Venom independent would help the story greatly IMO, but this is more my preference of seeing MCs work a lot to win their fights talking
Also, Awkward Webster learning 'How to act like a human 101' would be amusing to watch.
Venom can't be fully independent given that the symbiosis is needed for its continued survival. Leaving the host is possible, but leaves it mentally and physically scarred. Symbiosis is likely permanent.
Although, Venom does begin to take more and more traits from Gwen the longer they bond; most notably a preference for snarking at its his host/anyone around it with Mary Jane being a prime target. It also picks up some things from Peter such as liking classical music, though Peter theorizes it's because the sonics aren't strong enough to hurt it like Gwen's rock songs.
MJ actually notes this and says it's basically their kid...and then follows up by saying that if that's the case it's going to grow up to be a massive asshole. Venom gunks her hair for the comment, which kinda just proves her point.
Loktarogar
The Apex of Cuddling
- Location
- Brazil
We need more Venom I need to see he/she trolling people while Gwen tries to make damage-control.
Madou Sutegobana
Autocorrupt has been disabled.
- Location
- Twin Realms Mandala
Webster is cool, but does that mean Gwen must leave the band, or can Webster be on his own for long enough for Gwen to practice and perform?
We need more Venom I need to see he/she trolling people while Gwen tries to make damage-control.
Gwen would probably encourage it given that we also see her trolling her friends - particularly MJ - for all the crap they give her about her heroics/bringing over buddies who bleed all over the carpet. That and eventually there are times where you see Venom literally just hanging around the apartment independently whenever Gwen's friends are around. It seems to like Betty the most, but that's no surprise given how she acts. It's scared of Glory, though.
Symbiote rules stipulate that the symbiote becomes more and more resistant to fire and sonics the older it gets/the more attached it becomes to the host. Presumably she just has to wait before the rock songs eventually dull into a slight tingle, which may or may not take longer given that Venom states that it had to deepen their symbiosis in order for it to hold Gwen back from gouging out Peter's eyeballs and tongue-raping the sockets.
Chapter 65
I finished this chapter a few days ago, but held off on posting due to suggestions on the update rate. Hopefully this was a long enough wait Oh, and I suggest listening to some Skillet songs since they helped with the past few chapters. Try Hero, Rise, Not Gonna Die, and Awake and Alive. Oh, and the new Origin Short for the Disney Spidey cartoon.
Warning first of all: this chapter has a lot of Peter being emo with lots of edgy narration, and while this is justified given what happened to him I'm sure at least a few people will find this incredibly annoying. So yeah, consider yourself warned. Lots of wangst in this chapter all for a side-character at best, but it happens.
Oh, and some story news. I found a way to tie Murdock to Gwen again, so now he's a joint antagonist; though Noir gets the most attention from him and vice-versa. Conversely I'm involving Noir in Hobgoblin's segments, though like Murdock above the focus is on Gwen with Noir playing more of a supporting role.
On a side note, I've been doing more research on Venom and...wow, this thing is overpowered. And by that I mean even more than I thought.
Also, I got more likes in the last chapter compared to the recent ones that came before it. I can't tell if it's cause the chapter was better than average or because I begged for clicks. Hopefully it's the former, but I'll take a mix of both. Anyway, here's some stuff as always:
Chapter 65: Shatter Points
Peter hated funerals.
Granted he'd only ever been to three of them (not including this one) but each one stuck to mind immediately: the mourners dressed in black, the priest giving out last rites and even the rain beating against his skin. It was always the same. There were some differences - less or more people, the words the priest used and sometimes it didn't rain - but in the end nothing changed. People cried, the priest espoused the goodness of the deceased and life moved on.
The first funeral he'd been to were his parents. He was only 5 years old then, and Aunt May and Uncle Ben tried to spare his feelings by telling him that his parents had gone to Heaven and they were watching over him. He believed them, of course. He was just a kid and the thought that two people he loved could be gone forever without giving him a chance to say a proper goodbye was too much for him. So he nodded his head and said he believed them, that Richard and Mary Parker were up there looking out for them.
He remembered the crowds. Men and women he had no idea his mom and dad even knew - complete strangers, really - came up to him and told him that his parents were great people and that the world would mourn their loss. He never knew what his parents did, and neither Uncle Ben or Aunt May ever told him. Whatever it was they had to leave the caskets closed cause there were no bodies to put in there.
The second funeral was for Uncle Ben. That one was more somber. Not too many people, and the priest said everything in a rush because of the coming storm. Aunt May tried to sell him the same spiel about Heaven, but that time he didn't bother even pretending to believe her. With his parents he could at least pretend that they died some heroes death, but with Uncle Ben they both saw exactly how mangled the body was. So they closed the casket and tried to fool themselves into thinking he died with some sort of dignity.
That time it was only him, Aunt May and a few rare regulars who took advantage of his uncle's good nature. He remembered feeling infuriated. How many sweatshops had his uncle shut down? How many times did he give up his own time to help others who needed a repair job or something else? More than he could count, but when he was put under almost no one came to pay their respects. Ungrateful bastards, he thought.
In hindsight it was probably because they figured he'd pissed off Osborn and didn't want to get on his bad side, too. Still, it didn't stop him from being bitter. Fair-weather friends, the whole bunch of em.
The third funeral was Urich's. That time Aunt May didn't bother with the spiel, and he didn't cry. He had mixed feelings throughout the whole thing. It was just after he found out from Felicia that he'd planned to turn states, so while he felt bad a part of him couldn't help but think that Urich got what he deserved despite his intentions. He stuck a needle in his arm; it was only a matter of time before he paid the reaper, right?
Not many people came that time, either. Him, Aunt May and Felicia were there; the closest things he had to friends. Betty Brant and Jameson - Chameleon, he reminded himself - were there also, but that seemed more a professional courtesy. Brant's tears were forced, and it was drowned out by the glare Felicia sported throughout the entire thing. She suspected foul play and she was already planning her kill.
There wasn't a single member of his family there. That more than anything stuck in Peter's mind. Urich never talked about his family, but their absence only put the final nail in his coffin about any theory that they were estranged. His death was all over the news, but not a one bothered to show.
Peter wondered if he'd be the same. Aunt May, Mary Jane, Felicia and the others probably thought he'd died, just disappeared one day without a trace like his parents. He wondered if they put out a funeral, if they stood in front of some empty casket and watched it empty into the ground. 5 years down the line and they'd already moved on, he was sure. No sense in mourning a dead man forever.
And then, at the back of his mind, he heard whispers. Would it be the same here? If he ended up killing himself before finding a way back would anyone bother to bury him in a cemetery while some priest espoused his virtues? Or would the city cheer now that 'Lizard Parker' was dead again? Would Gwen, the Parkers or what few friends he had in this place mourn or would they just move on without a second thought?
He shook his head. Today wasn't about him.
"And so we are here to mourn the loss of Martin Li." The priest droned, the lines sounding forced and practiced. Peter pursed his lips and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, the hood doing little to protect him from the pelting rain. He didn't wear a suit, but if anyone else cared about the blatant disrespect none of them said anything...then again, most of them weren't here for Martin.
His eyes left the priest and shifted to the assorted people gathered around. He focused first on Lana and Winters; the only two besides him who knew him outside of the church. Lana was downcast, but she managed to keep her chin up. She didn't know him that long and she was used to seeing acquaintances dying without warning. You didn't grow up on the dregs of Hell's Kitchen without learning to harden yourself.
Winters wasn't the same. Her eyes were red and puffy and she lacked her customary smile, instead sporting a thoroughly depressed frown that looked unnatural on her. It was something he never wanted to see again.
The rest were there for him: Gwen, Cindy, the Parkers, Bullseye...they didn't know Martin, not really. All they knew was his death hurt him and that was enough for them to stand in front of a casket and mourn a dead man they didn't know as anything more than a recently outed Supervillain. He wanted to yell at them, scream that he didn't need their pity and that they could stop pretending, but he held his tongue. They were trying, and that he couldn't hold that against them.
A few priests milled about, but that was for obligation. Martin told him once that many of his brothers didn't exactly approve of him; a former human trafficker was hardly the most popular co-worker despite all their preachings about redemption. But now that he'd been outed as 'Mr. Negative' by God only knew who? A post-mortem excommunication was the first thing they did. He was sure the few priests that remained were just trying to make a show of redemption.
The only one that surprised him was Page. She stood away from the crowd, and Peter tried to pretend that she was here for something else. It would've been an easier sell if she hadn't stared at him the entire time.
'One short sleep past, we wake eternally, and death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.' He wasn't much for poetry, but he'd comforted himself with it before. Death was momentary, and when you woke up again you'd be in God's embrace where death couldn't touch you. Martin technically committed suicide, so for all he knew he was underground rather than looking at them from on high.
Then again Peter had supposedly come back from the dead, so who knew what could happen.
The priests asked if any of them had any final words, but no one said anything. He wanted to, wanted to try and redeem Martin's tarnished name, but he kept his mouth shut. They wouldn't listen to him, and anyone who knew the truth was few and far in-between. It was already enough of a risk that he'd contacted Winters and told her the truth; anyone else and he might as well have put 'I'm Spider-Man' across his face.
The final ceremonial rites came soon after. Peter picked up a clump of wet dirt and ignored how they stained his gloves. Aunt May once told him that it was a good sign when it rained on funerals. It meant the angels were crying for the one being buried and that they were a good person. Of course, he didn't like to think about the fact that it rained the day Osborn died, too.
'I'm sorry, Martin.' He threw the clump of dirt atop the coffin and shut his eyes tightly, suppressing the tears that threatened to spill out. He'd already mourned in the 2 days it took them to set up this patchwork funeral. He didn't know what strings went on behind the scenes, and he didn't really care. He was just happy that he was at least buried tombstone and all instead of being poked at in some lab.
His mouth twitched slightly when the rain suddenly stopped pelting him and an umbrella came overhead. Looking to the right, he gave a strained smile when he saw Cindy standing next to him. Her expression was uncertain, but he couldn't deny her presence was comforting despite the lingering urge to reject her pity. It was bad enough he'd lost control and bawled his eyes out to Gwen in the church.
"Hey, Pete..." She gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand, uncaring about the dirt that clung to the gloves, "You okay?"
"...Not really." He shook his head.
It didn't involve her. She was supposed to be out there watching some Vampire film but instead he was here wearing a borrowed black dress and trying to pretend that she wanted to be here instead of thinking about what to do about the upcoming family visit.
Before she could say anything else footsteps came to his left and Bullseye took vigil on his other side, his normally upbeat grin replaced with something more somber. He hadn't worn a suit either, but he at least had the decency to cover up the tattoo on his head, "Hey, kid...never expected I'd be attending a funeral today."
"Yeah, usually you're causing bodies instead of burying them." Cindy gave the older man a weirded out look, but she managed to kept her thoughts to herself, "...You didn't know him, did you?" It wasn't a question, not really, but he felt compelled to say it out loud regardless.
"Nah, kid. I'm here for you." He clapped him on the shoulder, "Look, apart from Lana I don't really know anyone else here. Honestly I'm confused on why the Parkers are here, but I'm not gonna ask. Just make sure to call me up if you need a night out on the town to forget this stuff. Nothing beats a good bender."
"Tempting, but our bar's been burnt to the ground."
"Yeah, I was gonna give you shit for that, but I'll hold off." He chuckled softly, "Tell me when you're okay so I can yell about your girlfriend trashing our hangout. I really need to give her a piece of my mind about that."
She was right there, he mused. Gwen was standing not too far away and Bullseye had no idea she was the 'little goody blue shoes' that he disliked so much. She looked like she wanted to talk to him, to try and tell him it wasn't his fault and that she'd be there for him, but he ignored her. The last thing he needed was to embarrass himself in front of her more than he already did.
He didn't know how long he stood and just watched as two gravediggers buried the coffin, but before he knew it the coffin was completely buried and the priests began to mill out now that they'd done the bare minimum, "God damn it..." He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Martin was six feet under, it was time for him to move on and bury him, too.
"Aren't you cold?" May's voice came from his left - Bullseye and Cindy apprently left without him realizing . He didn't turn to look at her, but he knew she was standing close by with Ben not far behind, "Peter-"
"Leave me alone." He scowled and wished he had a mask to cover his face. The way she said his name...she wasn't looking for him; she was looking for the nephew she'd lost, the one they'd buried and mourned.
"Peter, we're here for you." Uncle Ben placed a hand on his shoulder. Unlike with Bullseye he didn't feel any sense of relief, "If you-"
"Why don't you go visit your actual son? He's buried right there."
They both gasped, and he would've been lying if he said it didn't hurt. Ignoring the hurt looks on their faces he walked away and tried to put some distance between them and him. Bullseye and Cindy didn't expect him to act like someone he wasn't, didn't expect him to give up what he knew (or considered...) as the truth. It was better that they hated him. It would've made it easier to push through whatever happened.
He didn't get very far before Gwen grabbed his right wrist, her tight grip reminding him of what happened at the church, "Peter, stop!" He winced slightly. 2 days ago he was reminded just how severe the difference between them was. She could break every bone in his body without even trying.
He hated to admit it, but it scared him. Scared him how easily she could have killed him, that without the suit or her own morals holding her back she could end his life and there wouldn't have been anything he could do about it. He still remembered the claws dragging up the side of his face, the tongue that lingered on his cheek. It was worse than every bad dream he'd ever had of the Parker kid being beaten to death.
It scared him...Gwen scared him.
"Peter, I know you're hurt but you can't just shut them out," she continued, her voice soft, They're-"
"Strangers who think I'm someone I'm not." He scowled, his voice barely above a whisper. The last thing he needed was to announce to the world that things were more than they seemed.
Alright, he was wrong; he 'remembered' two more funerals. The mad scientist was 7 when his parents were buried, and just like his parents there weren't any bodies to put under. It annoyed Peter to no end how similar the circumstances were, down to the strangers who told him that his parents were great and that they would be missed.
And then there was what happened to Helen Stacy. The Parker kid didn't care about her, not really. To him she was just 'Gwen's mother', the woman who spent the past few months stuck in a hospital with tubes stuck in her arm. He sympathized with Gwen, of course, but he couldn't mourn her. Like most of the people here he didn't come for the corpse, he came for the mourner.
That wasn't even getting to what happened that week after prom...
"Peter, you can't-"
"Would you just-"
"My, my. Things seem to be tense."
...God damn it.
Peter's scowl turned murderous. Ignoring the look, Murdock walked towards them with his head held high and his posture confident. He'd exchanged his normal red suit for a black one, though that wasn't what gathered Peter's attention. No, his focus was on the Greek woman and severe looking Japanese man who flanked his left and right respectively.
Elektra Natchios he knew, but the one on his left could only be his last lapog 'Ikari'. Page told him it meant fury in Japanese, but he didn't care. All he knew was that between the three toadies Murdock had he was supposedly the deadliest. Even with Gwen here he didn't like the odds of none of the others getting hurt.
The mood in the funeral shifted. All of the remaining attendants' attention focused on the uninvited guest, all of them varying degrees of tense. Apart from the Parkers everyone knew about the double life the seemingly innocuous lawyer held. He saw Bullseye not-so-subtly reach his hands towards his pocket with Lana and Cindy following suit, their postures lowering to something more cautious.
Page and Winters weren't much better. The former looked at him with pursed lips, though she still hadn't said a word. Norah's eyes widened and she scrambled for her phone and stun gun, probably to help record proof in case something happened.
"What do you want, Murdock?" he spat, his voice venomous. He was tempted to grab his knife and stab it against his throat, consequences be damned, but he held it back. Even if he could kill Murdock the other two were there and he didn't fancy his chances being able to protect the Parkers or Winters.
"I'm here to pay my respects, but I seem to have missed the ceremony. A shame, I held a certain respect for the man." He laughed softly. Peter changed his mind; he wanted to gut the smug bastard first, "And it appears sister Maggie isn't here, either. Oh well, at least we can converse, Mr. Reilly. It's always interesting to talk to an old friend."
Reilly...he was keeping up with the ruse.
"He's got nothing to say to you, asshole!" Gwen answered for him, her voice equally venomous, "Just get the fuck out of here! I would've thought that even someone like you would respect a funeral!"
"Oh my, I'm surprised you can talk for him considering what you nearly did two days ago. Admit it, you were giddy when he told you he loved you."
"Wha-"
"Shut up." Peter pulled him close and shoved the edge of the knife against his throat. He heard a few gasps and muffled screams, but despite it all Murdock kept his smile and his stooges didn't make a single move to stop him, "Get out of here, Murdock. I'm not gonna ask you again."
"Charming as always, Mr. Reilly." His mouth curled into something resembling a sneer, "I know Bullseye is targeting me as we speak, and I'm sure Ms. Moon and Ms. Baumgartner aren't far behind, but I do urge you to reconsider. I'm not liable for the actions of my associates if any harm should come to me, not to mention the rest of my subordinates. Wouldn't want that risk, would you?"
"I'm really tempted to..."
"Really? I don't think Father Martin would have appreciated his funeral turning into a bloodbath."
"You son of a-"
"That's enough, Matt." Peter's head snapped to Page. Despite the situation she was as calm and collected as ever and looked up at Murdock defiantly without a hint of hesitation, "For once in your life stop playing your games."
"Aw, Karen, you're no fun." Murdock shook off his grip with disturbing ease his and re-adjusted his tie, "Oh well, I suppose I should stop messing around." He turned to the others and gave a light shrug, "Sorry, folks. Show's over. Go back to your business."
None of them believed him, and before anyone could say anything else Bullseye threw a card at the back of Murdock's head. The Japanese man moved, catching the card between his fingers and giving a glare to the bald sharpshooter, "Do not attempt that again." His voice was eerily soft, but despite that it carried a presence that was undeniable to all present.
"Nice trick." Bullseye gave him a sneering smile and pulled out another card, "You wanna see if you can keep it up?"
"Bullseye, enough." They couldn't fight here, not like this. He was sure the blind bastard had a few more of his pajama brigade hanging around where he couldn't see them. Peter pulled the knife away from Murdock's throat and put it back in its sheath, "...What do you want, Murdock?"
"Same as always, Mr. Reilly. Just a conversation between the two of us-"
"Why the fuck would he do that?" Gwen cut in. Peter saw parts of the suit shifting underneath the dark dress she wore.
"Now, now. No need to be testy, Ms. Stacy." He raised his hands in mock surrender when her glare worsened, "I understand you feel protective, but I mean him no harm. I wish to converse simply because we both knew the deceased, that's all. After that I'll leave."
Before Gwen could back another cutting remark Peter answered, "Fine." Gwen gave him a wide-eyed look, but he ignored it. It wasn't like it was the first time they'd done this, "Come on..."
He followed Murdock across the length of the cemetery. Taking one look back, he spotted Ben and May looking at him with no small amount of worry while the others had varying degrees of confusion and something else he couldn't place. The Parkers had no idea what was going on, and he preferred to keep it that way. The least thing they needed was for them to find out that 'their little boy' was spending time with the kingpin of crime.
He could only hope that Natchios and Ikari didn't try anything...
"You know, for a self-professed loner you seem to have a lot of friends," Murdock commented idly, walking stick tapping against the dirt needlessly, "Everyone's avoiding this funeral like the plague ever since Father Martin's extracurricular activities were exposed. It's bad enough when priests start touching little boys, but becoming Supervillain crime bosses? That's just insane."
"...Were you the one who exposed him?" It wouldn't have surprised him if he was.
"No, I can't take credit for that. I believe it was Karen and that man you were with, the one who worships the moon."
"Moon Knight? Why would he..."
"Who knows?" He shrugged lightly, "Maybe they just wanted to expose him so there could be a proper investigation, or maybe Karen's playing some kind of long game. She was never one to pass up an advantage in the time I've known her."
"You'd know, wouldn't you..." He looked down at the ground and scowled. He didn't trust Page, but he couldn't deny feeling bitter knowing that she might have been the one to drag Martin's name through the dirt. Now a good man would be remembered as a monster - most who knew him would disavow any notion of ever having been close and his funeral was populated almost completely by strangers.
The worst part of it was he was all too aware of the hypocrisy. He'd suggested Gwen out the Parker kid as the Lizard, he'd killed little miss lightning bolt for something she couldn't really control. What made Martin so different in that regard?
"...Why are you doing this?"
"Hm?" Murdock hummed, tilting his head slightly to look at him.
"These chats...what do you get out of them?" He turned to meet his gaze, ignoring the slight chill that ran down his body when he caught a glimpse of red irises, "You expose yourself needlessly, make some taunts and then you leave. You're banking a lot on the fact that I won't just slit your throat..." Granted he'd always made sure to have some amount of insurance, but it was still foolhardy and needless.
"What can I say, Mr. Parker? You intrigue me." His mouth split in an open-toothed smile, "I had a similar interest in Ms. Stacy in the past, but as you know that went nowhere with her inclusion into S.H.I.E.L.D's fold. You, on the other hand, simply grow more and more fascinating by the day."
"Flattered, but I'm not interested..."
"Hm? Oh, I didn't mean it like that." He laughed, like they'd just shared a private joke between them, "I wouldn't dare compete with Ms. Stacy in that regard. Best friends since childhood, both heroes with one having come back from the dead despite tragedy? It's almost fairytale."
"What would you know about it? I'm sure you stab in the back anyone stupid enough to trust you."
"Hey now, just because I'm a businessman doesn't mean I'm heartless," he said, tone laced with mock offense, "I was with Karen in the past, and brief as it may have been there was intimacy there. So I know what I'm talking about," He clapped him on the shoulder. Peter wanted to break his jaw, "Speaking of which, I've 'seen' the way Ms. Moon looks at you, and the way you look back. Might want to choose soon, Mr. Parker...though I'm surprised you don't associate her face with the one who tortured you for all those years. It would make kissing her rather awkward, wouldn't it?"
"Fuck you." That earned him a chuckle, the sound open and loud in the nominally quiet cemetery, "Have you had your fill yet?"
"Not quite yet." He stopped walking and made a vague gesture in the air, "Did you know Ms. Moon planned to dig up Father Martin's corpse? His infection with Darkforce energy was of interest to her, apparently."
"You two go anywhere near his body I'm killing you here and now, damn the risks." He knew Murdock could bring people back from the dead, and the last thing he wanted was Martin being his puppet, "You hear me? You-"
"Calm down, Mr. Parker. The image of an aggressive 'tough guy' doesn't suit you," he replied coolly, "I have no intentions of repeating what I did with Ms. Walker. Even assuming he kept his abilities, someone of his power would be too dangerous. He'd never be a pawn, and it's for that reason that I managed to convince Ms. Moon to abandon any such notion as well. I do still have some pull with her."
"...Don't expect me to thank you."
"Of course not. I did it for myself, after all." He gave him a mocking smile, "Still, I'm surprised at you. You've refused all my invitations so far, and yet you don't hesitate at all to throw yourself at Karen's feet. I'm almost offended."
"She thinks she can stop you. You better pray she's right; she's the only thing stopping me from shooting you between the eyes."
"Well, her and Ms. Stacy. She still has quite an amount of pull over you, it seems." He turned back slightly to the crowd still watching them, "You know, there's something I'm curious about. I know who you are, Mr. Parker, at least in some regards. Despite all your troubles you seem determined to return back to your 'home'."
"Your point?"
"I simply find your actions contrary, that's all. You claim you want to leave this place, and yet you throw yourself at every little thing that crosses your field of vision. I wonder if you really want to go back, or if you're just telling yourself that? Perhaps you don't realize it but it's quite possible that a part of you does consider this place your home and you just don't want to admit it to yourself. I mean, I don't see how your PDA with Ms. Stacy fit into those plans."
Peter wanted to retort, bite back some cutting insult about how he should go to Hell where he belonged, but the blind bastard was faster. Murdock tapped the tombstone next to them with he bottom end of his walking stick and Peter's head snapped towards it on instinct.
He didn't know if the lawyer had planned on it or it was just amazing luck, but they were standing in front of the Parker kid's grave. Peter's eyes widened for a brief second before he turned back to Murdock with a scowl, "Seems familiar, doesn't it?" He chuckled under his breath and stepped past him till they were shoulder to shoulder and facing opposite directions, "Years you spent buried under here, and now there's nothing more than an empty coffin. It's disrespectful, really."
"...Go to Hell."
"You know what? I am going to Hell, but it'll be warm and I'll know people." He threw his head back and laughed again, like he'd made some amazing joke, "All jests aside, Mr. Parker, think on what I've said. The sooner you stop pretending the sooner you can actually make a difference."
"Oh boy, here we go..." He let out a single, wry laugh, "You're going to tell me I'm wasting my time because crime can't be stopped."
"More or less. I even have cue cards." he grinned, though it was hard to see considering their position, "You have to admit I have a point. How many months have you spent here trying to make a dent? Take out one villain and a dozen more will take their place. You can't change human nature, Peter. And no matter how many you beat down and kill there will always be more people desperate or depraved enough to do the same thing."
"What, you think you're any better? You dress it up in that suit and fancy pomp, but you're just a leech. You're not changing or making a difference either, Matt. You're just taking advantage of the cesspool, carving out your own little 'empire' on the backs of the desperate and needy." Just like Osborn and Crime Master. It never changed.
"I never claimed to want to change the world. Chaos is a ladder...I heard that in a TV show once. I found it appropriate." He shook his head in amusement, "We don't have to be friends, Peter, but eventually you'll realize that you're playing damage control more than you're playing hero. And when you do and want to grow up I'll be there to shake your hand."
"And I'll be there to cut it off."
"Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven." Murdock gave one last laugh and walked away, the sounds of his walking stick fading into the crowded streets. Peter debated briefly on whether he should go back to the others or leave before the choice was made for him again.
"It's good of you to show restraint, Peter." Page walked up to him, Gwen not far behind with an expression that was a cross between confused and concerned. She had no idea who the prosecutor was, "Killing Murdock openly like a thug would have disastrous consequences. He needs to be punished properly."
"...Dunno what you're talking about." He sunk his head into the 'borrowed' scarf and looked away from her. He didn't miss the way Gwen stared at the grave they stood in front of or the way her face sunk in response.
"There's no point in the secret identity charade. I know who you are, Spider-Man, and I know who your partner is as well." Her eyes flicked over to Gwen. The other blonde gave her a look of abject surprise, "Don't worry, Ms. Stacy. I have no interest in holding either of your identities hostage or performing some kind of crude blackmail. Peter's been an ally and his aid will be invaluable in the coming days."
"You and Murdock seem to know a lot about things you shouldn't," Peter bit back.
"It's not as hard as it seems; one simply needs to know who to talk to. For example, I know Matt knows about what happened at the church because he made a deal with Jean DeWolff. That in exchange for information on Martin Li's operations she'd owe him a favor, which no doubt was relaying exactly what happened." She gave them both a cold smile, "She no doubt had the best of intentions making that deal, but a pact with someone like Matt will always bite you back."
"And how do you know about Peter and me?" Gwen asked, her stance wary. Peter didn't know why she cared so much - Murdock already knew who she was, and there was hardly anyone worse in the city who could've been in on the secret.
"I have an ally who's very invested in his well-being," she replied, "I can't disclose her name for obvious reasons, but she knows a lot about you both and Ms. Moon. I'm sure she'll introduce herself to you given enough time."
"Tch, tell her to keep hiding. The last thing I need right now is something else trying to drive me insane," He brought a hand through his rain-matted hair, "...I gotta go, try to get some air. Just call me if something happens."
Gwen looked like she wanted to say something - probably a plea about how his friends and family missed him and that he shouldn't cut them off - but he didn't want to hear it. He walked out of the cemetery, ignoring the buzzing of his phone that came soon after. It could've been Bullseye, it could've been Lana or Cindy or Winters. It didn't matter; he didn't want to hear any of them.
Of course he didn't get too far before he felt the blare of his spider-sense. Not danger, something else.
"...Grant." He turned to the right and found Steven Grant leaning across the right side of the gate, the all-white suit and audacious smirk looking extremely out of place in graveyard. Peter didn't particularly like Moon Knight, and he was sure the feeling was mutual. They'd only allied out of convenience and because the insane bastard's god told him that they should. He played along, mostly because he didn't have much in the way of other allies when he'd made the offer.
Still, among all the three he disliked Steven Grant the most. A would-be playboy and rich idiot who acted the part of the fool so perfectly that it went from authentic to obnoxious; it was worse than the overtly friendly cabby and the religion spouting nut.
"Something's wrong, isn't there?"
"You'd know. Weren't you the one who exposed Martin?" Peter did his best to make his voice sound neutral, but judging by the raised eyebrow he got he definitely didn't succeed, "...What are you doing here, Grant? Need another cult demolished?"
"Nothing like that. Marc was worried. The big man upstairs thinks you're having some doubts," Grant stepped closer to him, his hands in his pockets and looking for all the world like a completely normal businessman out for a day in town, "I can see it, too. What's the deal, kid? I saw what happened when you and Marc tried to stop that cult and that didn't even slow you down. Didn't one of those guys-"
"Crucify me? Yeah..." He rubbed both hands on his wrists. Definitely one of the more unpleasant things he'd faced in this place, and that wasn't even getting to their attempt to bury him alive. Thank God they stank at digging, "You know what? I'm not doing this. Just leave me alone." If he wasn't going to to talk to people he actually trusted then he sure as hell wasn't going to a would-be Tony Stark.
"Why, so you wallow in your own misery?" He rolled his eyes, "You lost a friend, kid, it happens. You think you're gonna get anything done walking around in the rain moping like some kind of lifetime cliche? The sooner you get this done the less time you waste."
"Go fuck yourself, Grant. Martin was my friend and now-"
"He's dead and you're still here. Such a tragedy." Despite his cutting words he still retained the confident and cocky affect, "Don't you get it? Those around you are going to get hurt, there's nothing you can do to change that. You can try your best, you can tell yourself that you'll be there next time, but you're just one person. You can't protect them forever."
"So what're you suggesting? That I just pretend it doesn't bother me and keep going? No wonder all your friends left you."
It was a low blow and he knew it, but right at that moment he didn't care. He knew that Moon Knight didn't really have anyone he could call an ally outside of tangential informants like Crawley, that his friends 'Frenchie' and Marlene left him behind when his insanity got too far. He wasn't sure why Spector told him, but if he had to guess it was because he'd finally found someone to listen to his babbling.
Grant's eyes narrowed slightly before he gave him a chilling smirk, "Did that make you feel better? Let me tell you a thing about me. People who love me suffer and die. I never want to be loved. That's why I always win." They stood face to face, the older man looking down at him like he was a child throwing a tantrum, "I've made peace with that. Maybe you should, too."
"...Go to Hell." Peter felt like a broken record, but no other words came to mind.
"You think I haven't tried?' His smirk turned a tad more somber, "Neither of us should be here, we both know that. I tried to blow my brains out before when Marlene left me, know what happened?"
"Guessing it didn't work considering you're here with that loud suit."
"I just got back up." He let out a single, soft laugh, "Khoshnu won't let me die, and you? Anansi already brought you back. They've got their claws on us now, kid, and until we stop being useful they're going to keep pulling our strings. Only difference between the two of us is I see the strings. You should wise up before your own boss strangles you with em."
"I prefer talking to Spector..."
He pushed past him and disappeared into the crowd, doing his utter damnedest to ignore the other vigilante staring at his back. Hopefully the next time he saw him it'd be one of the other two pulling the strings.
How many days had he spent in this prison?
Stanley Carter looked up at the roof of his padded cell and closed his eyes, muttering a prayer that reverberated across the confines of his prison. He still remembered the treatment, the woman who told him that she wished to help him and that together they could push past his insanity. At first he thought she was foolish, that perhaps she'd been sent by the Demon as a test of his resolve.
Now...Now he wasn't so sure.
Weeks he'd spent in the confines of this asylum, and yet despite his resistance she - Dr. Ashley Kafka, he reminded himself - tried her best to 'reform' him. He had to admit it was becoming easier to see where she came from. Perhaps...Perhaps his actions hadn't been the best, perhaps he could've tried to stem the tide of sin some other way than the way he had.
He couldn't agree with her assertion that sin did not need to be punished, but he could one day convince her to agree to his viewpoint as she tried to do to him.
He didn't know how long he stayed simply staring up at the ceiling of his prison, but he eventually he heard something through the doors of the cell, "What is...?" He stood up shakily and stepped closer to the barred door.
Screams came from the outside, so muffled that he almost missed them entirely. Something was happening, "Dr. Kafka?" he called out, getting no response in return. He made his way fully towards the doorway, briefly damning the straitjacket that kept his arms confined to his sides. A precaution, she'd told him, but he saw the fear she tried to hide. It was for their protection, not his.
Carter stood in front of the door before he felt the overwhelming blast of heat that came from under the metal, heard the manic laugh that came soon afterwards.
His eyes widened and he backed away, head shaking in a panic, "No...no, no, no!" He shut his eyes tightly and fell on his back. He knew that voice, heard that otherworldly reverb before, "H-He's-"
The door exploded inward, the metal rushing past him and colliding against the opposite wall. He didn't care; his focus was purely on the individual - Demon, a part of his mind cried - that stood in the epicenter.
"Stan, my man! So good to see you!" Jack stepped into the padded cell with a spring in his step and a smile that was (sadly) hidden underneath the flaming pumpkin. That was definitely a con of the costume; no one could see the guy underneath, and the 'Pumpkinhead' that no one ever get tired repeating.
Well, at not until he showed them how...displeased he was. No one was making any Pumpkinhead jokes then.
"Y-You!?" Stan cried, looking up at him like he was a ghost- or was it demon? Honestly Stan's ramblings kinda gave hima headache, "Wh-What are you-"
"Now, is that any way to talk to an old friend?" he interrupted, voice laced with mock offense, "You and me, Stan, we've been through a lot. Remember when we first got that junkie under the bridge by offering her as much cocaine as she could snort?" Jack shook his head. Good times all around were had that night, "I even taught you that special knife trick of mine. No one else knows that."
"A-Are you here to free me?" Huh, he didn't sound very excited.
Well, it didn't matter. That wasn't what he was planning to do anyway, "Ah...no. This ain't one of those kinds of visits." He stepped into the room and brandished a knife. Stan's face split into a panicked look, which cause him to grin. Never got old, "You're more of a 'loose end' and 'guy I kill to send a message' type of person now, you know? It's nothing personal, Stan. I really did like you."
"B-But why!? I-"
"Shh, shh!" He knelt in front of him put a gloved finger to the older man's lips, "Like I said, nothing personal. You got caught by Spider-Man, and you getting killed? Eh, it sends a message." He raised the knife closer to his face, "I already killed that artist guy - he was a real bitch to put down, by the way - so you're next."
Stan screamed, pleaded, made threats, said that he didn't deserve it; the works. Jack ignored it all and began cutting into the skin, whistling all the while. His former protege didn't even fight back, which was a bit of a disappointment admittedly, but what could you do? They probably hadn't been feeding him very well. Mental hospital food was crap, he knew that from experience.
He smelled blood through the filter in his mask and hummed in appreciation. A lot of the time when he did it he had to be quick or quiet, but now he could take his sweet time, "You got a thick head, Stan." He cut into the skin harder and internally smirked when the blade chipped through the bone, "It's a shame you went for the religion motif. Halloween is always more fun."
His only response was a pained scream, which was again a bit of a disappointment, "Oh well, too late now." He dragged the knife in a circle around the top of his head and continued the jaunty whistle. It'd been a while since he managed to do his signature thing, so he relished it as much as he could.
Stan died before he got to the good part. Shame, he never got anyone past step one, "Now let's see what ya got for me." He giggled and lifted the top of his skull like a kid opening the cookie jar, "Ooh, what do you we have here?" He picked up the contents and pulled it out with a quick tug, the crimson fluid running between his fingers with a soppy drip, "Ah, love the smell of gray matter in the evening!"
He tossed the brain behind him carelessly and got to work. First he had to hollow out the face, then a candle at each eyesocket and...done, "Nothing like a day's hard work." He propped up Stan's hands at his side in a mock crucifix position. It was what he would've wanted, "This'll send a message to Spidey for sure." He grinned and pulled out a cassette tape, dropping it at Stan's side plain for all to see.
His own remix of 'Here's to you'. Jack hoped he liked it.
Jack made his way to the exit and raised an eyebrow when he saw another dead guard choking on his own blood at the end of the hall with a redhead straddling him. One of the asylum patients, though he didn't recognize him, "Looks like someone's having fun!" he called out with a chuckle. He'd killed his fair share of guards the way over here, but they weren't his real targets.
"Heh, yeah," the redhead replied, his voice carrying an obvious southern drawl, "You the one who got us out of our cells?"
"Yeah, though it was more a distraction kinda thing, you know?" Jack shrugged. The criminally insane were definitely the most fun to let loose; those other guys just stayed in there cells or started yelling out random crap, "Who are you?"
"Kletus Kasady. Ain't surprised you haven't heard a' me. I've been stuck here for a while." He waved a bloody, makeshift shiv through the air and gestured to the guard, "Kinda rusty, but hopefully I can get some more practice in." The guard was missing a few fingers, but despite that he was remarkably intact. All the better to slice up for later, he supposed. The ol' CM taught him that trick, too.
"Hah, I like your style!" He laughed. If he could make it out of this place then New York was gonna be a boatload of laughs, "You have fun now. I gotta visit an old friend of mine."
"Sure. See ya around, pal!"
"Murdock was right, you know."
Peter looked up from the bottom of the whiskey glass and scowled at the apparition/ghost/hallucination/whatever the hell it was standing close to the chair where he sat, "About what...?" he asked back, his voice rough and hoarse. In hindsight maybe drinking 5 bottles of whiskey straight wasn't the best idea, but it wasn't like he could ask the Spider-God to hold off on the immunity for a bit while he got hammered.
"You do waste a lot of time." Was it possible to hate your own voice? Cause right now he wanted to shove a bottle down the damn thing's throat so it couldn't talk, "You've been here for nearly half a year and your excuses are getting thin. What are you waiting for?"
"You expect me to travel dimensions myself?" He took a large gulp of the whiskey an ignored the fact that he'd had this talk before. In hindsight answering back to something that wasn't there wasn't his highest point, but he'd done worse. He made 'friends' with Frank Castle, for pete's sake.
"That's your excuse? You should be asking the spooks about it and throw yourself at their feet, but instead you're letting them take their sweet time and wait for them to contact you. Why?"
"You think I can control them? Hill made it clear this street was one-way." Their orders, their rules. And he didn't exactly score a lot of brownie points when Ogre got killed and he lost the serum to Jack.
"But you're not even trying, are you? No, instead you're dragging your feet. Probably cause you wanna fuck Stacy or Moon-"
He threw the glass of whiskey at it. As expected it passed through harmlessly and shattered against the board he'd set up on the wall. The ghost looked at him silently, the utter disappointment obvious even through the mask it work. Peter shook his head and moved past it to pick up the pieces of broken glass. Give him the Lizard back. At least that thing just yelled garbage at him.
Peter knelt and picked up the shards, though he didn't get far before he miscalculated and cut his pointer finger, "Ah, damn it..." His eyes lingered on the small cut and the crimson fluid that dripped down onto the floor.
"Great..." He sighed and sucked on the digit. Minor cuts healed really fast for him, and the bleeding would stop in about a minute, but he couldn't deny that it was more irritating than usual given his lack of sleep. He'd spend the last two days out on the town, tracking any crime and getting himself bloody and beaten to try and fend off the feeling of depression. Even Lana had left him alone, which he had mixed feelings about.
His hand stopped bleeding a few minutes in and he managed to clean up the shards soon after. He'd just gotten the new apartment, and he definitely wanted to go at least a few days before he started leaving blood all over the carpet.
Peter's attention shifted to where the glass crashed against. The makeshift board had pictures splattered all over them, each connected by differing colors of string. Murdock sat at the top with his three stooges just below him, but everything else was a mess. Page's info changed by the day; associates, allies, enemies, rivals...it was all a constant flux. Whatever else he could say about Murdock he definitely wasn't lazy.
"Not wasting your time, huh? So what's the point of playing detective on Murdock? Think he can get you back if you catch him?"
'Thankfully' he was saved from having to answer it by a sudden knock on the door. It wasn't Lana - she'd agreed to give him some space while he dealt with this mess - so that only left a few other people who knew where he lived, 'Need another drink...' He filled up another glass with whiskey before making his way to the doorway. Hopefully whoever saw it would take the hint and pike off.
He was only half-surprised to find Winters on the other side, her mourning dress replaced by a more practical pair of a white dress shirt and dark jeans, "Summers..." Her expression was odd. At first glance it was the same ecstatic look she always had when she found a scoop, but there was something different about it. It was forced, trying to drown out the lingering redness on her sclera and the bags under her eyes.
"Hey, Ben..." She walked in brazenly, ignoring his not-so-subtle hints about wanting to be left alone, "I have some questions."
"You always do." He closed the door with a sigh. He wasn't getting rid of her now, "Is this really the time, Summers?"
"It's the perfect time, actually." Her smile faltered just a bit at that. Definitely something up, "I mean, we're not just gonna pretend what happened at the cemetary didn't happen, right?"
"Dunno what you're talking about..." He gave an annoyed growl.
"Yeah, you do. You're a lot of things, but you're not dumb." She stepped closer to him and looked him right in the eye. Peter found it a tad annoying that she was at least slightly taller than him. Just another reminder that this body wasn't his, "The Kingpin of crime makes a personal visit and asks to speak to you and only you? And you have enough guts to shove a knife to his neck? That's not something that happens everyday."
"...I know Spider-Man." It was cheap excuse, and later on he would've told himself that there were other alibis he could have spouted, but right at that moment he just wanted her to leave and said the first thing that came to mind, "Associating with that guy gets you in trouble; had to learn to take care of myself."
"Hmm...that's a load of crap." She gave him a sickly sweet smile, "You wanna know what I think?"
"I get the feeling you're going to tell me either way." He downed the whiskey in one gulp and made his way back to the table to refill it. Maybe if he didn't look at her it'd be easier to drown her out.
"I did some research. A few months ago 'Ben Reilly' as you are didn't exist, but after the funeral I did some more searching. What'd I find? An entire written history of who you are. Where you went to school, where you worked before, what you're doing now...all of it lies, by the way. I'm pretty sure I would've noticed if you were working as an intern in Starktech."
"Your point?" He knew the spooks gave him a paper trail. A load of hogwash, of course, but it was better than having no ID at all.
"My point is that Ben Reilly didn't exist up until a few weeks ago, and now suddenly he has this entire history made and placed like it's always been there. That's not something just anyone gets, even for someone who 'knows' Spider-Man."
"What are you saying, then?"
"Well, it suddenly occurred to me that I've never once seen you or Spider-Man in the same place. Every time I have to meet with one of you the other's off on the other side of the city doing something really important." Her smile had turned almost predatory now. She looked like a hunter than just reeled in their prey, "I wonder why that is."
"Who knows..." He took another sip of the whiskey and let it calm his senses, "Interesting theory you got there, Winters. So, assuming you think I'm Spider-Man that must mean that you think I had something to do with Martin's death. Is that right?"
Surprisingly enough her smile and confidence immediately receded, replaced by something a tad more contemplative, "...I don't know." Her voice turned softer at the question, "Everyone's still scrambling for the details on what happened, including me."
He knew why she was doing this, this whole charade. Just like him she was trying to put what happened to Martin out of her mind, but instead of drinking her problems away she started digging into things that were over her head. Focus on other problems instead of her own and just maybe she could forget how miserable she was. He would've found it pitiable if he didn't do the same damn thing.
"I do know one thing." She took a few more tentative steps towards him,"You cared about Martin, and you wouldn't have killed him if you had any other choice. I'm not even sure if you killed 'him' at all. So..." She grabbed the glass from his hand and placed at the table, "Tell my everything. What happened? And just who the hell are you, Ben Reilly?"
Down the line he'd blame his next action on alcohol and frustration, justify that he wanted to end the argument and he didn't know any other way. Winters didn't have much time to say anything before he pulled her in a sudden kiss. The action was rough and more than a tinge desperate, but if Winters had any complaints she didn't voice them out. Instead she wrapped one arm around the base of his neck and deepened the kiss while Peter fumbled for the buttons of her dress shirt in a rush.
Come tomorrow morning he was sure he'd regret what they did next, but that came later. Right then and there all he focused on was dragging her to the bed and hoping it'd be a while before his senses came back to him.
Again, apologies for anyone that had to trudge through Noir's emoness throughout the entire chapter. Hopefully the brief reprieve we had with Jack and his fleeting bromance with Cletus was enough to keep the chapter for being too depressing. It's rare to find a character who enjoys what they do - both Noir and even Gwen at times can be real whiners about their 'jobs' - so Jack was a definite breath of fresh air.
Speaking of the rating: I'll change it back to T if I can't do the M rating justice by the next chapter. I dunno, I guess I just can't write Mature for this fic after writing with censors for so long. That and I just read through the 2011 Punisher series along with Punisher: War Journal and I really need to add Castle back into the roster. He's gotten shafted ever since he ditched his family.
Still, gotta love that Parker luck: world shits on you, but in exchange you get bursts of abnormal good luck when it comes to girls way out of your league. Lori was justified since he paid her, but both Felicia and Norah (and MJ, who expressed attraction to him) are definitely out of his strike zone - something Eugene pointed out in an earlier chapter in reference to him managing to nearly get to 4th base with Gwen/Spider-Woman.
...I gotta tone this crap down, or maybe give Gwen equal chances on her own. Problem is she has less viable options given her canon relationships and her choices being far more limited: Harry's fugitive terrorist, MJ doesn't want to ask her out, Peter left her with a massive case of blue bean etc etc. Gotta feel sorry for her.
Oh, speaking of Frog-Man, he was also supposed to be in the chapter. Originally he was meant to call Noir because of an 'emergency', and when Noir actually went he found out that he just wanted to impress a girl and called him over as proof that he was 'friends' with Spider-Man. Needless to say this ended with Peter yelling at Eugene, telling him that he's treating being a vigilante like a joke and that when he gets killed no one but his 'loser of a dad' would mourn him or attend his funeral.
I cut this out because I couldn't fit it in narratively, and it would make Noir an even bigger dick than he already is in the chapter since he essentially unloads on Eugene for (an admittedly annoying but still minor) mistake. That and the hero this story needs and wants deserves better than a tongue lashing from Peter of all people.
Anyway, the next chapter will be Jack-o-Lantern vs Spider-Man Noir and a plot many people find familiar. Look forward to it, and drop a comment/like if you can
Oh, and I suggest listening to some Skillet songs since they helped with the past few chapters. Try Hero, Rise, Not Gonna Die, and Awake and Alive. Oh, and the new Origin Short for the Disney Spidey cartoon. Warning first of all: this chapter has a lot of Peter being emo with lots of edgy narration, and while this is justified given what happened to him I'm sure at least a few people will find this incredibly annoying. So yeah, consider yourself warned. Lots of wangst in this chapter all for a side-character at best, but it happens.
Oh, and some story news. I found a way to tie Murdock to Gwen again, so now he's a joint antagonist; though Noir gets the most attention from him and vice-versa. Conversely I'm involving Noir in Hobgoblin's segments, though like Murdock above the focus is on Gwen with Noir playing more of a supporting role.
On a side note, I've been doing more research on Venom and...wow, this thing is overpowered. And by that I mean even more than I thought.
Let's look at it with just physical strength. That 25 ton upgrade I gave Gwen? I thought that was slightly above the canon regular limit with anything higher being for those adrenaline moments. Yeah...apparently not even close. The actual general limit? 70 tons. For reference, Khonshu - not Moon Knight, the actual deity himself - can deadlift 60. That's right; the Venom symbiote is stronger than a freaking god.
This isn't even the ultimate cap. 70 tons is what Venom can lift from a resting state, and like Spidey the host can lift more depending on its size and emotional state. It once lifted 200 tons, and this was when it wasn't at 100%...yeesh, I really didn't think it'd be that absurdly strong when I put it in the story. Either I nerf this thing hard or we have a problem where Gwen should be able to completely cripple groups of thugs by sneezing in their general direction.
And of course there's that durability. While it's not that absurd that symbiote users can survive crap like point blank shotgun blasts and the like - and Gwen survived pumpkin bombs without a scratch in canon sans suit - we also get cases where Agent Venom successfully tanked Jack-o-Lanterns flaming broomstick and, at one point, fought through hellfire. Silly doesn't even begin to describe this; that'd be like Superman going 'meh' when faced with kryptonite.
Then again that's just Marvel. How much can Mr. Hyde put out despite just being a dude with a formula? 50 tons. Rhino, a guy who underwent some radiation treatment and a clingy suit? 100 tons...yeah, again these two are just normal people who underwent treatment. Maybe I should just accept the absurdity, like how Moon Knight (no powers) once fought and won against the aforementioned Mr. Hyde and even Count Nefaria and didn't get instantly smeared.
Still, this would make Gwen and the eventual Carnage host the Marvel equivalent of Alex Mercer, if not as stupidly overpowered. As if Peter wasn't hilariously outmatched already...ah well, them's the breaks. I'll probably just buff Gwen's villains to compensate.
This isn't even the ultimate cap. 70 tons is what Venom can lift from a resting state, and like Spidey the host can lift more depending on its size and emotional state. It once lifted 200 tons, and this was when it wasn't at 100%...yeesh, I really didn't think it'd be that absurdly strong when I put it in the story. Either I nerf this thing hard or we have a problem where Gwen should be able to completely cripple groups of thugs by sneezing in their general direction.
And of course there's that durability. While it's not that absurd that symbiote users can survive crap like point blank shotgun blasts and the like - and Gwen survived pumpkin bombs without a scratch in canon sans suit - we also get cases where Agent Venom successfully tanked Jack-o-Lanterns flaming broomstick and, at one point, fought through hellfire. Silly doesn't even begin to describe this; that'd be like Superman going 'meh' when faced with kryptonite.
Then again that's just Marvel. How much can Mr. Hyde put out despite just being a dude with a formula? 50 tons. Rhino, a guy who underwent some radiation treatment and a clingy suit? 100 tons...yeah, again these two are just normal people who underwent treatment. Maybe I should just accept the absurdity, like how Moon Knight (no powers) once fought and won against the aforementioned Mr. Hyde and even Count Nefaria and didn't get instantly smeared.
Still, this would make Gwen and the eventual Carnage host the Marvel equivalent of Alex Mercer, if not as stupidly overpowered. As if Peter wasn't hilariously outmatched already...ah well, them's the breaks. I'll probably just buff Gwen's villains to compensate.
Also, I got more likes in the last chapter compared to the recent ones that came before it. I can't tell if it's cause the chapter was better than average or because I begged for clicks. Hopefully it's the former, but I'll take a mix of both. Anyway, here's some stuff as always:
Chapter 65: Shatter Points
Peter hated funerals.
Granted he'd only ever been to three of them (not including this one) but each one stuck to mind immediately: the mourners dressed in black, the priest giving out last rites and even the rain beating against his skin. It was always the same. There were some differences - less or more people, the words the priest used and sometimes it didn't rain - but in the end nothing changed. People cried, the priest espoused the goodness of the deceased and life moved on.
The first funeral he'd been to were his parents. He was only 5 years old then, and Aunt May and Uncle Ben tried to spare his feelings by telling him that his parents had gone to Heaven and they were watching over him. He believed them, of course. He was just a kid and the thought that two people he loved could be gone forever without giving him a chance to say a proper goodbye was too much for him. So he nodded his head and said he believed them, that Richard and Mary Parker were up there looking out for them.
He remembered the crowds. Men and women he had no idea his mom and dad even knew - complete strangers, really - came up to him and told him that his parents were great people and that the world would mourn their loss. He never knew what his parents did, and neither Uncle Ben or Aunt May ever told him. Whatever it was they had to leave the caskets closed cause there were no bodies to put in there.
The second funeral was for Uncle Ben. That one was more somber. Not too many people, and the priest said everything in a rush because of the coming storm. Aunt May tried to sell him the same spiel about Heaven, but that time he didn't bother even pretending to believe her. With his parents he could at least pretend that they died some heroes death, but with Uncle Ben they both saw exactly how mangled the body was. So they closed the casket and tried to fool themselves into thinking he died with some sort of dignity.
That time it was only him, Aunt May and a few rare regulars who took advantage of his uncle's good nature. He remembered feeling infuriated. How many sweatshops had his uncle shut down? How many times did he give up his own time to help others who needed a repair job or something else? More than he could count, but when he was put under almost no one came to pay their respects. Ungrateful bastards, he thought.
In hindsight it was probably because they figured he'd pissed off Osborn and didn't want to get on his bad side, too. Still, it didn't stop him from being bitter. Fair-weather friends, the whole bunch of em.
The third funeral was Urich's. That time Aunt May didn't bother with the spiel, and he didn't cry. He had mixed feelings throughout the whole thing. It was just after he found out from Felicia that he'd planned to turn states, so while he felt bad a part of him couldn't help but think that Urich got what he deserved despite his intentions. He stuck a needle in his arm; it was only a matter of time before he paid the reaper, right?
Not many people came that time, either. Him, Aunt May and Felicia were there; the closest things he had to friends. Betty Brant and Jameson - Chameleon, he reminded himself - were there also, but that seemed more a professional courtesy. Brant's tears were forced, and it was drowned out by the glare Felicia sported throughout the entire thing. She suspected foul play and she was already planning her kill.
There wasn't a single member of his family there. That more than anything stuck in Peter's mind. Urich never talked about his family, but their absence only put the final nail in his coffin about any theory that they were estranged. His death was all over the news, but not a one bothered to show.
Peter wondered if he'd be the same. Aunt May, Mary Jane, Felicia and the others probably thought he'd died, just disappeared one day without a trace like his parents. He wondered if they put out a funeral, if they stood in front of some empty casket and watched it empty into the ground. 5 years down the line and they'd already moved on, he was sure. No sense in mourning a dead man forever.
And then, at the back of his mind, he heard whispers. Would it be the same here? If he ended up killing himself before finding a way back would anyone bother to bury him in a cemetery while some priest espoused his virtues? Or would the city cheer now that 'Lizard Parker' was dead again? Would Gwen, the Parkers or what few friends he had in this place mourn or would they just move on without a second thought?
He shook his head. Today wasn't about him.
"And so we are here to mourn the loss of Martin Li." The priest droned, the lines sounding forced and practiced. Peter pursed his lips and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, the hood doing little to protect him from the pelting rain. He didn't wear a suit, but if anyone else cared about the blatant disrespect none of them said anything...then again, most of them weren't here for Martin.
His eyes left the priest and shifted to the assorted people gathered around. He focused first on Lana and Winters; the only two besides him who knew him outside of the church. Lana was downcast, but she managed to keep her chin up. She didn't know him that long and she was used to seeing acquaintances dying without warning. You didn't grow up on the dregs of Hell's Kitchen without learning to harden yourself.
Winters wasn't the same. Her eyes were red and puffy and she lacked her customary smile, instead sporting a thoroughly depressed frown that looked unnatural on her. It was something he never wanted to see again.
The rest were there for him: Gwen, Cindy, the Parkers, Bullseye...they didn't know Martin, not really. All they knew was his death hurt him and that was enough for them to stand in front of a casket and mourn a dead man they didn't know as anything more than a recently outed Supervillain. He wanted to yell at them, scream that he didn't need their pity and that they could stop pretending, but he held his tongue. They were trying, and that he couldn't hold that against them.
A few priests milled about, but that was for obligation. Martin told him once that many of his brothers didn't exactly approve of him; a former human trafficker was hardly the most popular co-worker despite all their preachings about redemption. But now that he'd been outed as 'Mr. Negative' by God only knew who? A post-mortem excommunication was the first thing they did. He was sure the few priests that remained were just trying to make a show of redemption.
The only one that surprised him was Page. She stood away from the crowd, and Peter tried to pretend that she was here for something else. It would've been an easier sell if she hadn't stared at him the entire time.
'One short sleep past, we wake eternally, and death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.' He wasn't much for poetry, but he'd comforted himself with it before. Death was momentary, and when you woke up again you'd be in God's embrace where death couldn't touch you. Martin technically committed suicide, so for all he knew he was underground rather than looking at them from on high.
Then again Peter had supposedly come back from the dead, so who knew what could happen.
The priests asked if any of them had any final words, but no one said anything. He wanted to, wanted to try and redeem Martin's tarnished name, but he kept his mouth shut. They wouldn't listen to him, and anyone who knew the truth was few and far in-between. It was already enough of a risk that he'd contacted Winters and told her the truth; anyone else and he might as well have put 'I'm Spider-Man' across his face.
The final ceremonial rites came soon after. Peter picked up a clump of wet dirt and ignored how they stained his gloves. Aunt May once told him that it was a good sign when it rained on funerals. It meant the angels were crying for the one being buried and that they were a good person. Of course, he didn't like to think about the fact that it rained the day Osborn died, too.
'I'm sorry, Martin.' He threw the clump of dirt atop the coffin and shut his eyes tightly, suppressing the tears that threatened to spill out. He'd already mourned in the 2 days it took them to set up this patchwork funeral. He didn't know what strings went on behind the scenes, and he didn't really care. He was just happy that he was at least buried tombstone and all instead of being poked at in some lab.
His mouth twitched slightly when the rain suddenly stopped pelting him and an umbrella came overhead. Looking to the right, he gave a strained smile when he saw Cindy standing next to him. Her expression was uncertain, but he couldn't deny her presence was comforting despite the lingering urge to reject her pity. It was bad enough he'd lost control and bawled his eyes out to Gwen in the church.
"Hey, Pete..." She gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand, uncaring about the dirt that clung to the gloves, "You okay?"
"...Not really." He shook his head.
It didn't involve her. She was supposed to be out there watching some Vampire film but instead he was here wearing a borrowed black dress and trying to pretend that she wanted to be here instead of thinking about what to do about the upcoming family visit.
Before she could say anything else footsteps came to his left and Bullseye took vigil on his other side, his normally upbeat grin replaced with something more somber. He hadn't worn a suit either, but he at least had the decency to cover up the tattoo on his head, "Hey, kid...never expected I'd be attending a funeral today."
"Yeah, usually you're causing bodies instead of burying them." Cindy gave the older man a weirded out look, but she managed to kept her thoughts to herself, "...You didn't know him, did you?" It wasn't a question, not really, but he felt compelled to say it out loud regardless.
"Nah, kid. I'm here for you." He clapped him on the shoulder, "Look, apart from Lana I don't really know anyone else here. Honestly I'm confused on why the Parkers are here, but I'm not gonna ask. Just make sure to call me up if you need a night out on the town to forget this stuff. Nothing beats a good bender."
"Tempting, but our bar's been burnt to the ground."
"Yeah, I was gonna give you shit for that, but I'll hold off." He chuckled softly, "Tell me when you're okay so I can yell about your girlfriend trashing our hangout. I really need to give her a piece of my mind about that."
She was right there, he mused. Gwen was standing not too far away and Bullseye had no idea she was the 'little goody blue shoes' that he disliked so much. She looked like she wanted to talk to him, to try and tell him it wasn't his fault and that she'd be there for him, but he ignored her. The last thing he needed was to embarrass himself in front of her more than he already did.
He didn't know how long he stood and just watched as two gravediggers buried the coffin, but before he knew it the coffin was completely buried and the priests began to mill out now that they'd done the bare minimum, "God damn it..." He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Martin was six feet under, it was time for him to move on and bury him, too.
"Aren't you cold?" May's voice came from his left - Bullseye and Cindy apprently left without him realizing . He didn't turn to look at her, but he knew she was standing close by with Ben not far behind, "Peter-"
"Leave me alone." He scowled and wished he had a mask to cover his face. The way she said his name...she wasn't looking for him; she was looking for the nephew she'd lost, the one they'd buried and mourned.
"Peter, we're here for you." Uncle Ben placed a hand on his shoulder. Unlike with Bullseye he didn't feel any sense of relief, "If you-"
"Why don't you go visit your actual son? He's buried right there."
They both gasped, and he would've been lying if he said it didn't hurt. Ignoring the hurt looks on their faces he walked away and tried to put some distance between them and him. Bullseye and Cindy didn't expect him to act like someone he wasn't, didn't expect him to give up what he knew (or considered...) as the truth. It was better that they hated him. It would've made it easier to push through whatever happened.
He didn't get very far before Gwen grabbed his right wrist, her tight grip reminding him of what happened at the church, "Peter, stop!" He winced slightly. 2 days ago he was reminded just how severe the difference between them was. She could break every bone in his body without even trying.
He hated to admit it, but it scared him. Scared him how easily she could have killed him, that without the suit or her own morals holding her back she could end his life and there wouldn't have been anything he could do about it. He still remembered the claws dragging up the side of his face, the tongue that lingered on his cheek. It was worse than every bad dream he'd ever had of the Parker kid being beaten to death.
It scared him...Gwen scared him.
"Peter, I know you're hurt but you can't just shut them out," she continued, her voice soft, They're-"
"Strangers who think I'm someone I'm not." He scowled, his voice barely above a whisper. The last thing he needed was to announce to the world that things were more than they seemed.
Alright, he was wrong; he 'remembered' two more funerals. The mad scientist was 7 when his parents were buried, and just like his parents there weren't any bodies to put under. It annoyed Peter to no end how similar the circumstances were, down to the strangers who told him that his parents were great and that they would be missed.
And then there was what happened to Helen Stacy. The Parker kid didn't care about her, not really. To him she was just 'Gwen's mother', the woman who spent the past few months stuck in a hospital with tubes stuck in her arm. He sympathized with Gwen, of course, but he couldn't mourn her. Like most of the people here he didn't come for the corpse, he came for the mourner.
That wasn't even getting to what happened that week after prom...
"Peter, you can't-"
"Would you just-"
"My, my. Things seem to be tense."
...God damn it.
Peter's scowl turned murderous. Ignoring the look, Murdock walked towards them with his head held high and his posture confident. He'd exchanged his normal red suit for a black one, though that wasn't what gathered Peter's attention. No, his focus was on the Greek woman and severe looking Japanese man who flanked his left and right respectively.
Elektra Natchios he knew, but the one on his left could only be his last lapog 'Ikari'. Page told him it meant fury in Japanese, but he didn't care. All he knew was that between the three toadies Murdock had he was supposedly the deadliest. Even with Gwen here he didn't like the odds of none of the others getting hurt.
The mood in the funeral shifted. All of the remaining attendants' attention focused on the uninvited guest, all of them varying degrees of tense. Apart from the Parkers everyone knew about the double life the seemingly innocuous lawyer held. He saw Bullseye not-so-subtly reach his hands towards his pocket with Lana and Cindy following suit, their postures lowering to something more cautious.
Page and Winters weren't much better. The former looked at him with pursed lips, though she still hadn't said a word. Norah's eyes widened and she scrambled for her phone and stun gun, probably to help record proof in case something happened.
"What do you want, Murdock?" he spat, his voice venomous. He was tempted to grab his knife and stab it against his throat, consequences be damned, but he held it back. Even if he could kill Murdock the other two were there and he didn't fancy his chances being able to protect the Parkers or Winters.
"I'm here to pay my respects, but I seem to have missed the ceremony. A shame, I held a certain respect for the man." He laughed softly. Peter changed his mind; he wanted to gut the smug bastard first, "And it appears sister Maggie isn't here, either. Oh well, at least we can converse, Mr. Reilly. It's always interesting to talk to an old friend."
Reilly...he was keeping up with the ruse.
"He's got nothing to say to you, asshole!" Gwen answered for him, her voice equally venomous, "Just get the fuck out of here! I would've thought that even someone like you would respect a funeral!"
"Oh my, I'm surprised you can talk for him considering what you nearly did two days ago. Admit it, you were giddy when he told you he loved you."
"Wha-"
"Shut up." Peter pulled him close and shoved the edge of the knife against his throat. He heard a few gasps and muffled screams, but despite it all Murdock kept his smile and his stooges didn't make a single move to stop him, "Get out of here, Murdock. I'm not gonna ask you again."
"Charming as always, Mr. Reilly." His mouth curled into something resembling a sneer, "I know Bullseye is targeting me as we speak, and I'm sure Ms. Moon and Ms. Baumgartner aren't far behind, but I do urge you to reconsider. I'm not liable for the actions of my associates if any harm should come to me, not to mention the rest of my subordinates. Wouldn't want that risk, would you?"
"I'm really tempted to..."
"Really? I don't think Father Martin would have appreciated his funeral turning into a bloodbath."
"You son of a-"
"That's enough, Matt." Peter's head snapped to Page. Despite the situation she was as calm and collected as ever and looked up at Murdock defiantly without a hint of hesitation, "For once in your life stop playing your games."
"Aw, Karen, you're no fun." Murdock shook off his grip with disturbing ease his and re-adjusted his tie, "Oh well, I suppose I should stop messing around." He turned to the others and gave a light shrug, "Sorry, folks. Show's over. Go back to your business."
None of them believed him, and before anyone could say anything else Bullseye threw a card at the back of Murdock's head. The Japanese man moved, catching the card between his fingers and giving a glare to the bald sharpshooter, "Do not attempt that again." His voice was eerily soft, but despite that it carried a presence that was undeniable to all present.
"Nice trick." Bullseye gave him a sneering smile and pulled out another card, "You wanna see if you can keep it up?"
"Bullseye, enough." They couldn't fight here, not like this. He was sure the blind bastard had a few more of his pajama brigade hanging around where he couldn't see them. Peter pulled the knife away from Murdock's throat and put it back in its sheath, "...What do you want, Murdock?"
"Same as always, Mr. Reilly. Just a conversation between the two of us-"
"Why the fuck would he do that?" Gwen cut in. Peter saw parts of the suit shifting underneath the dark dress she wore.
"Now, now. No need to be testy, Ms. Stacy." He raised his hands in mock surrender when her glare worsened, "I understand you feel protective, but I mean him no harm. I wish to converse simply because we both knew the deceased, that's all. After that I'll leave."
Before Gwen could back another cutting remark Peter answered, "Fine." Gwen gave him a wide-eyed look, but he ignored it. It wasn't like it was the first time they'd done this, "Come on..."
He followed Murdock across the length of the cemetery. Taking one look back, he spotted Ben and May looking at him with no small amount of worry while the others had varying degrees of confusion and something else he couldn't place. The Parkers had no idea what was going on, and he preferred to keep it that way. The least thing they needed was for them to find out that 'their little boy' was spending time with the kingpin of crime.
He could only hope that Natchios and Ikari didn't try anything...
"You know, for a self-professed loner you seem to have a lot of friends," Murdock commented idly, walking stick tapping against the dirt needlessly, "Everyone's avoiding this funeral like the plague ever since Father Martin's extracurricular activities were exposed. It's bad enough when priests start touching little boys, but becoming Supervillain crime bosses? That's just insane."
"...Were you the one who exposed him?" It wouldn't have surprised him if he was.
"No, I can't take credit for that. I believe it was Karen and that man you were with, the one who worships the moon."
"Moon Knight? Why would he..."
"Who knows?" He shrugged lightly, "Maybe they just wanted to expose him so there could be a proper investigation, or maybe Karen's playing some kind of long game. She was never one to pass up an advantage in the time I've known her."
"You'd know, wouldn't you..." He looked down at the ground and scowled. He didn't trust Page, but he couldn't deny feeling bitter knowing that she might have been the one to drag Martin's name through the dirt. Now a good man would be remembered as a monster - most who knew him would disavow any notion of ever having been close and his funeral was populated almost completely by strangers.
The worst part of it was he was all too aware of the hypocrisy. He'd suggested Gwen out the Parker kid as the Lizard, he'd killed little miss lightning bolt for something she couldn't really control. What made Martin so different in that regard?
"...Why are you doing this?"
"Hm?" Murdock hummed, tilting his head slightly to look at him.
"These chats...what do you get out of them?" He turned to meet his gaze, ignoring the slight chill that ran down his body when he caught a glimpse of red irises, "You expose yourself needlessly, make some taunts and then you leave. You're banking a lot on the fact that I won't just slit your throat..." Granted he'd always made sure to have some amount of insurance, but it was still foolhardy and needless.
"What can I say, Mr. Parker? You intrigue me." His mouth split in an open-toothed smile, "I had a similar interest in Ms. Stacy in the past, but as you know that went nowhere with her inclusion into S.H.I.E.L.D's fold. You, on the other hand, simply grow more and more fascinating by the day."
"Flattered, but I'm not interested..."
"Hm? Oh, I didn't mean it like that." He laughed, like they'd just shared a private joke between them, "I wouldn't dare compete with Ms. Stacy in that regard. Best friends since childhood, both heroes with one having come back from the dead despite tragedy? It's almost fairytale."
"What would you know about it? I'm sure you stab in the back anyone stupid enough to trust you."
"Hey now, just because I'm a businessman doesn't mean I'm heartless," he said, tone laced with mock offense, "I was with Karen in the past, and brief as it may have been there was intimacy there. So I know what I'm talking about," He clapped him on the shoulder. Peter wanted to break his jaw, "Speaking of which, I've 'seen' the way Ms. Moon looks at you, and the way you look back. Might want to choose soon, Mr. Parker...though I'm surprised you don't associate her face with the one who tortured you for all those years. It would make kissing her rather awkward, wouldn't it?"
"Fuck you." That earned him a chuckle, the sound open and loud in the nominally quiet cemetery, "Have you had your fill yet?"
"Not quite yet." He stopped walking and made a vague gesture in the air, "Did you know Ms. Moon planned to dig up Father Martin's corpse? His infection with Darkforce energy was of interest to her, apparently."
"You two go anywhere near his body I'm killing you here and now, damn the risks." He knew Murdock could bring people back from the dead, and the last thing he wanted was Martin being his puppet, "You hear me? You-"
"Calm down, Mr. Parker. The image of an aggressive 'tough guy' doesn't suit you," he replied coolly, "I have no intentions of repeating what I did with Ms. Walker. Even assuming he kept his abilities, someone of his power would be too dangerous. He'd never be a pawn, and it's for that reason that I managed to convince Ms. Moon to abandon any such notion as well. I do still have some pull with her."
"...Don't expect me to thank you."
"Of course not. I did it for myself, after all." He gave him a mocking smile, "Still, I'm surprised at you. You've refused all my invitations so far, and yet you don't hesitate at all to throw yourself at Karen's feet. I'm almost offended."
"She thinks she can stop you. You better pray she's right; she's the only thing stopping me from shooting you between the eyes."
"Well, her and Ms. Stacy. She still has quite an amount of pull over you, it seems." He turned back slightly to the crowd still watching them, "You know, there's something I'm curious about. I know who you are, Mr. Parker, at least in some regards. Despite all your troubles you seem determined to return back to your 'home'."
"Your point?"
"I simply find your actions contrary, that's all. You claim you want to leave this place, and yet you throw yourself at every little thing that crosses your field of vision. I wonder if you really want to go back, or if you're just telling yourself that? Perhaps you don't realize it but it's quite possible that a part of you does consider this place your home and you just don't want to admit it to yourself. I mean, I don't see how your PDA with Ms. Stacy fit into those plans."
Peter wanted to retort, bite back some cutting insult about how he should go to Hell where he belonged, but the blind bastard was faster. Murdock tapped the tombstone next to them with he bottom end of his walking stick and Peter's head snapped towards it on instinct.
He didn't know if the lawyer had planned on it or it was just amazing luck, but they were standing in front of the Parker kid's grave. Peter's eyes widened for a brief second before he turned back to Murdock with a scowl, "Seems familiar, doesn't it?" He chuckled under his breath and stepped past him till they were shoulder to shoulder and facing opposite directions, "Years you spent buried under here, and now there's nothing more than an empty coffin. It's disrespectful, really."
"...Go to Hell."
"You know what? I am going to Hell, but it'll be warm and I'll know people." He threw his head back and laughed again, like he'd made some amazing joke, "All jests aside, Mr. Parker, think on what I've said. The sooner you stop pretending the sooner you can actually make a difference."
"Oh boy, here we go..." He let out a single, wry laugh, "You're going to tell me I'm wasting my time because crime can't be stopped."
"More or less. I even have cue cards." he grinned, though it was hard to see considering their position, "You have to admit I have a point. How many months have you spent here trying to make a dent? Take out one villain and a dozen more will take their place. You can't change human nature, Peter. And no matter how many you beat down and kill there will always be more people desperate or depraved enough to do the same thing."
"What, you think you're any better? You dress it up in that suit and fancy pomp, but you're just a leech. You're not changing or making a difference either, Matt. You're just taking advantage of the cesspool, carving out your own little 'empire' on the backs of the desperate and needy." Just like Osborn and Crime Master. It never changed.
"I never claimed to want to change the world. Chaos is a ladder...I heard that in a TV show once. I found it appropriate." He shook his head in amusement, "We don't have to be friends, Peter, but eventually you'll realize that you're playing damage control more than you're playing hero. And when you do and want to grow up I'll be there to shake your hand."
"And I'll be there to cut it off."
"Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven." Murdock gave one last laugh and walked away, the sounds of his walking stick fading into the crowded streets. Peter debated briefly on whether he should go back to the others or leave before the choice was made for him again.
"It's good of you to show restraint, Peter." Page walked up to him, Gwen not far behind with an expression that was a cross between confused and concerned. She had no idea who the prosecutor was, "Killing Murdock openly like a thug would have disastrous consequences. He needs to be punished properly."
"...Dunno what you're talking about." He sunk his head into the 'borrowed' scarf and looked away from her. He didn't miss the way Gwen stared at the grave they stood in front of or the way her face sunk in response.
"There's no point in the secret identity charade. I know who you are, Spider-Man, and I know who your partner is as well." Her eyes flicked over to Gwen. The other blonde gave her a look of abject surprise, "Don't worry, Ms. Stacy. I have no interest in holding either of your identities hostage or performing some kind of crude blackmail. Peter's been an ally and his aid will be invaluable in the coming days."
"You and Murdock seem to know a lot about things you shouldn't," Peter bit back.
"It's not as hard as it seems; one simply needs to know who to talk to. For example, I know Matt knows about what happened at the church because he made a deal with Jean DeWolff. That in exchange for information on Martin Li's operations she'd owe him a favor, which no doubt was relaying exactly what happened." She gave them both a cold smile, "She no doubt had the best of intentions making that deal, but a pact with someone like Matt will always bite you back."
"And how do you know about Peter and me?" Gwen asked, her stance wary. Peter didn't know why she cared so much - Murdock already knew who she was, and there was hardly anyone worse in the city who could've been in on the secret.
"I have an ally who's very invested in his well-being," she replied, "I can't disclose her name for obvious reasons, but she knows a lot about you both and Ms. Moon. I'm sure she'll introduce herself to you given enough time."
"Tch, tell her to keep hiding. The last thing I need right now is something else trying to drive me insane," He brought a hand through his rain-matted hair, "...I gotta go, try to get some air. Just call me if something happens."
Gwen looked like she wanted to say something - probably a plea about how his friends and family missed him and that he shouldn't cut them off - but he didn't want to hear it. He walked out of the cemetery, ignoring the buzzing of his phone that came soon after. It could've been Bullseye, it could've been Lana or Cindy or Winters. It didn't matter; he didn't want to hear any of them.
Of course he didn't get too far before he felt the blare of his spider-sense. Not danger, something else.
"...Grant." He turned to the right and found Steven Grant leaning across the right side of the gate, the all-white suit and audacious smirk looking extremely out of place in graveyard. Peter didn't particularly like Moon Knight, and he was sure the feeling was mutual. They'd only allied out of convenience and because the insane bastard's god told him that they should. He played along, mostly because he didn't have much in the way of other allies when he'd made the offer.
Still, among all the three he disliked Steven Grant the most. A would-be playboy and rich idiot who acted the part of the fool so perfectly that it went from authentic to obnoxious; it was worse than the overtly friendly cabby and the religion spouting nut.
"Something's wrong, isn't there?"
"You'd know. Weren't you the one who exposed Martin?" Peter did his best to make his voice sound neutral, but judging by the raised eyebrow he got he definitely didn't succeed, "...What are you doing here, Grant? Need another cult demolished?"
"Nothing like that. Marc was worried. The big man upstairs thinks you're having some doubts," Grant stepped closer to him, his hands in his pockets and looking for all the world like a completely normal businessman out for a day in town, "I can see it, too. What's the deal, kid? I saw what happened when you and Marc tried to stop that cult and that didn't even slow you down. Didn't one of those guys-"
"Crucify me? Yeah..." He rubbed both hands on his wrists. Definitely one of the more unpleasant things he'd faced in this place, and that wasn't even getting to their attempt to bury him alive. Thank God they stank at digging, "You know what? I'm not doing this. Just leave me alone." If he wasn't going to to talk to people he actually trusted then he sure as hell wasn't going to a would-be Tony Stark.
"Why, so you wallow in your own misery?" He rolled his eyes, "You lost a friend, kid, it happens. You think you're gonna get anything done walking around in the rain moping like some kind of lifetime cliche? The sooner you get this done the less time you waste."
"Go fuck yourself, Grant. Martin was my friend and now-"
"He's dead and you're still here. Such a tragedy." Despite his cutting words he still retained the confident and cocky affect, "Don't you get it? Those around you are going to get hurt, there's nothing you can do to change that. You can try your best, you can tell yourself that you'll be there next time, but you're just one person. You can't protect them forever."
"So what're you suggesting? That I just pretend it doesn't bother me and keep going? No wonder all your friends left you."
It was a low blow and he knew it, but right at that moment he didn't care. He knew that Moon Knight didn't really have anyone he could call an ally outside of tangential informants like Crawley, that his friends 'Frenchie' and Marlene left him behind when his insanity got too far. He wasn't sure why Spector told him, but if he had to guess it was because he'd finally found someone to listen to his babbling.
Grant's eyes narrowed slightly before he gave him a chilling smirk, "Did that make you feel better? Let me tell you a thing about me. People who love me suffer and die. I never want to be loved. That's why I always win." They stood face to face, the older man looking down at him like he was a child throwing a tantrum, "I've made peace with that. Maybe you should, too."
"...Go to Hell." Peter felt like a broken record, but no other words came to mind.
"You think I haven't tried?' His smirk turned a tad more somber, "Neither of us should be here, we both know that. I tried to blow my brains out before when Marlene left me, know what happened?"
"Guessing it didn't work considering you're here with that loud suit."
"I just got back up." He let out a single, soft laugh, "Khoshnu won't let me die, and you? Anansi already brought you back. They've got their claws on us now, kid, and until we stop being useful they're going to keep pulling our strings. Only difference between the two of us is I see the strings. You should wise up before your own boss strangles you with em."
"I prefer talking to Spector..."
He pushed past him and disappeared into the crowd, doing his utter damnedest to ignore the other vigilante staring at his back. Hopefully the next time he saw him it'd be one of the other two pulling the strings.
How many days had he spent in this prison?
Stanley Carter looked up at the roof of his padded cell and closed his eyes, muttering a prayer that reverberated across the confines of his prison. He still remembered the treatment, the woman who told him that she wished to help him and that together they could push past his insanity. At first he thought she was foolish, that perhaps she'd been sent by the Demon as a test of his resolve.
Now...Now he wasn't so sure.
Weeks he'd spent in the confines of this asylum, and yet despite his resistance she - Dr. Ashley Kafka, he reminded himself - tried her best to 'reform' him. He had to admit it was becoming easier to see where she came from. Perhaps...Perhaps his actions hadn't been the best, perhaps he could've tried to stem the tide of sin some other way than the way he had.
He couldn't agree with her assertion that sin did not need to be punished, but he could one day convince her to agree to his viewpoint as she tried to do to him.
He didn't know how long he stayed simply staring up at the ceiling of his prison, but he eventually he heard something through the doors of the cell, "What is...?" He stood up shakily and stepped closer to the barred door.
Screams came from the outside, so muffled that he almost missed them entirely. Something was happening, "Dr. Kafka?" he called out, getting no response in return. He made his way fully towards the doorway, briefly damning the straitjacket that kept his arms confined to his sides. A precaution, she'd told him, but he saw the fear she tried to hide. It was for their protection, not his.
Carter stood in front of the door before he felt the overwhelming blast of heat that came from under the metal, heard the manic laugh that came soon afterwards.
His eyes widened and he backed away, head shaking in a panic, "No...no, no, no!" He shut his eyes tightly and fell on his back. He knew that voice, heard that otherworldly reverb before, "H-He's-"
The door exploded inward, the metal rushing past him and colliding against the opposite wall. He didn't care; his focus was purely on the individual - Demon, a part of his mind cried - that stood in the epicenter.
"Stan, my man! So good to see you!" Jack stepped into the padded cell with a spring in his step and a smile that was (sadly) hidden underneath the flaming pumpkin. That was definitely a con of the costume; no one could see the guy underneath, and the 'Pumpkinhead' that no one ever get tired repeating.
Well, at not until he showed them how...displeased he was. No one was making any Pumpkinhead jokes then.
"Y-You!?" Stan cried, looking up at him like he was a ghost- or was it demon? Honestly Stan's ramblings kinda gave hima headache, "Wh-What are you-"
"Now, is that any way to talk to an old friend?" he interrupted, voice laced with mock offense, "You and me, Stan, we've been through a lot. Remember when we first got that junkie under the bridge by offering her as much cocaine as she could snort?" Jack shook his head. Good times all around were had that night, "I even taught you that special knife trick of mine. No one else knows that."
"A-Are you here to free me?" Huh, he didn't sound very excited.
Well, it didn't matter. That wasn't what he was planning to do anyway, "Ah...no. This ain't one of those kinds of visits." He stepped into the room and brandished a knife. Stan's face split into a panicked look, which cause him to grin. Never got old, "You're more of a 'loose end' and 'guy I kill to send a message' type of person now, you know? It's nothing personal, Stan. I really did like you."
"B-But why!? I-"
"Shh, shh!" He knelt in front of him put a gloved finger to the older man's lips, "Like I said, nothing personal. You got caught by Spider-Man, and you getting killed? Eh, it sends a message." He raised the knife closer to his face, "I already killed that artist guy - he was a real bitch to put down, by the way - so you're next."
Stan screamed, pleaded, made threats, said that he didn't deserve it; the works. Jack ignored it all and began cutting into the skin, whistling all the while. His former protege didn't even fight back, which was a bit of a disappointment admittedly, but what could you do? They probably hadn't been feeding him very well. Mental hospital food was crap, he knew that from experience.
He smelled blood through the filter in his mask and hummed in appreciation. A lot of the time when he did it he had to be quick or quiet, but now he could take his sweet time, "You got a thick head, Stan." He cut into the skin harder and internally smirked when the blade chipped through the bone, "It's a shame you went for the religion motif. Halloween is always more fun."
His only response was a pained scream, which was again a bit of a disappointment, "Oh well, too late now." He dragged the knife in a circle around the top of his head and continued the jaunty whistle. It'd been a while since he managed to do his signature thing, so he relished it as much as he could.
Stan died before he got to the good part. Shame, he never got anyone past step one, "Now let's see what ya got for me." He giggled and lifted the top of his skull like a kid opening the cookie jar, "Ooh, what do you we have here?" He picked up the contents and pulled it out with a quick tug, the crimson fluid running between his fingers with a soppy drip, "Ah, love the smell of gray matter in the evening!"
He tossed the brain behind him carelessly and got to work. First he had to hollow out the face, then a candle at each eyesocket and...done, "Nothing like a day's hard work." He propped up Stan's hands at his side in a mock crucifix position. It was what he would've wanted, "This'll send a message to Spidey for sure." He grinned and pulled out a cassette tape, dropping it at Stan's side plain for all to see.
His own remix of 'Here's to you'. Jack hoped he liked it.
Jack made his way to the exit and raised an eyebrow when he saw another dead guard choking on his own blood at the end of the hall with a redhead straddling him. One of the asylum patients, though he didn't recognize him, "Looks like someone's having fun!" he called out with a chuckle. He'd killed his fair share of guards the way over here, but they weren't his real targets.
"Heh, yeah," the redhead replied, his voice carrying an obvious southern drawl, "You the one who got us out of our cells?"
"Yeah, though it was more a distraction kinda thing, you know?" Jack shrugged. The criminally insane were definitely the most fun to let loose; those other guys just stayed in there cells or started yelling out random crap, "Who are you?"
"Kletus Kasady. Ain't surprised you haven't heard a' me. I've been stuck here for a while." He waved a bloody, makeshift shiv through the air and gestured to the guard, "Kinda rusty, but hopefully I can get some more practice in." The guard was missing a few fingers, but despite that he was remarkably intact. All the better to slice up for later, he supposed. The ol' CM taught him that trick, too.
"Hah, I like your style!" He laughed. If he could make it out of this place then New York was gonna be a boatload of laughs, "You have fun now. I gotta visit an old friend of mine."
"Sure. See ya around, pal!"
"Murdock was right, you know."
Peter looked up from the bottom of the whiskey glass and scowled at the apparition/ghost/hallucination/whatever the hell it was standing close to the chair where he sat, "About what...?" he asked back, his voice rough and hoarse. In hindsight maybe drinking 5 bottles of whiskey straight wasn't the best idea, but it wasn't like he could ask the Spider-God to hold off on the immunity for a bit while he got hammered.
"You do waste a lot of time." Was it possible to hate your own voice? Cause right now he wanted to shove a bottle down the damn thing's throat so it couldn't talk, "You've been here for nearly half a year and your excuses are getting thin. What are you waiting for?"
"You expect me to travel dimensions myself?" He took a large gulp of the whiskey an ignored the fact that he'd had this talk before. In hindsight answering back to something that wasn't there wasn't his highest point, but he'd done worse. He made 'friends' with Frank Castle, for pete's sake.
"That's your excuse? You should be asking the spooks about it and throw yourself at their feet, but instead you're letting them take their sweet time and wait for them to contact you. Why?"
"You think I can control them? Hill made it clear this street was one-way." Their orders, their rules. And he didn't exactly score a lot of brownie points when Ogre got killed and he lost the serum to Jack.
"But you're not even trying, are you? No, instead you're dragging your feet. Probably cause you wanna fuck Stacy or Moon-"
He threw the glass of whiskey at it. As expected it passed through harmlessly and shattered against the board he'd set up on the wall. The ghost looked at him silently, the utter disappointment obvious even through the mask it work. Peter shook his head and moved past it to pick up the pieces of broken glass. Give him the Lizard back. At least that thing just yelled garbage at him.
Peter knelt and picked up the shards, though he didn't get far before he miscalculated and cut his pointer finger, "Ah, damn it..." His eyes lingered on the small cut and the crimson fluid that dripped down onto the floor.
"Great..." He sighed and sucked on the digit. Minor cuts healed really fast for him, and the bleeding would stop in about a minute, but he couldn't deny that it was more irritating than usual given his lack of sleep. He'd spend the last two days out on the town, tracking any crime and getting himself bloody and beaten to try and fend off the feeling of depression. Even Lana had left him alone, which he had mixed feelings about.
His hand stopped bleeding a few minutes in and he managed to clean up the shards soon after. He'd just gotten the new apartment, and he definitely wanted to go at least a few days before he started leaving blood all over the carpet.
Peter's attention shifted to where the glass crashed against. The makeshift board had pictures splattered all over them, each connected by differing colors of string. Murdock sat at the top with his three stooges just below him, but everything else was a mess. Page's info changed by the day; associates, allies, enemies, rivals...it was all a constant flux. Whatever else he could say about Murdock he definitely wasn't lazy.
"Not wasting your time, huh? So what's the point of playing detective on Murdock? Think he can get you back if you catch him?"
'Thankfully' he was saved from having to answer it by a sudden knock on the door. It wasn't Lana - she'd agreed to give him some space while he dealt with this mess - so that only left a few other people who knew where he lived, 'Need another drink...' He filled up another glass with whiskey before making his way to the doorway. Hopefully whoever saw it would take the hint and pike off.
He was only half-surprised to find Winters on the other side, her mourning dress replaced by a more practical pair of a white dress shirt and dark jeans, "Summers..." Her expression was odd. At first glance it was the same ecstatic look she always had when she found a scoop, but there was something different about it. It was forced, trying to drown out the lingering redness on her sclera and the bags under her eyes.
"Hey, Ben..." She walked in brazenly, ignoring his not-so-subtle hints about wanting to be left alone, "I have some questions."
"You always do." He closed the door with a sigh. He wasn't getting rid of her now, "Is this really the time, Summers?"
"It's the perfect time, actually." Her smile faltered just a bit at that. Definitely something up, "I mean, we're not just gonna pretend what happened at the cemetary didn't happen, right?"
"Dunno what you're talking about..." He gave an annoyed growl.
"Yeah, you do. You're a lot of things, but you're not dumb." She stepped closer to him and looked him right in the eye. Peter found it a tad annoying that she was at least slightly taller than him. Just another reminder that this body wasn't his, "The Kingpin of crime makes a personal visit and asks to speak to you and only you? And you have enough guts to shove a knife to his neck? That's not something that happens everyday."
"...I know Spider-Man." It was cheap excuse, and later on he would've told himself that there were other alibis he could have spouted, but right at that moment he just wanted her to leave and said the first thing that came to mind, "Associating with that guy gets you in trouble; had to learn to take care of myself."
"Hmm...that's a load of crap." She gave him a sickly sweet smile, "You wanna know what I think?"
"I get the feeling you're going to tell me either way." He downed the whiskey in one gulp and made his way back to the table to refill it. Maybe if he didn't look at her it'd be easier to drown her out.
"I did some research. A few months ago 'Ben Reilly' as you are didn't exist, but after the funeral I did some more searching. What'd I find? An entire written history of who you are. Where you went to school, where you worked before, what you're doing now...all of it lies, by the way. I'm pretty sure I would've noticed if you were working as an intern in Starktech."
"Your point?" He knew the spooks gave him a paper trail. A load of hogwash, of course, but it was better than having no ID at all.
"My point is that Ben Reilly didn't exist up until a few weeks ago, and now suddenly he has this entire history made and placed like it's always been there. That's not something just anyone gets, even for someone who 'knows' Spider-Man."
"What are you saying, then?"
"Well, it suddenly occurred to me that I've never once seen you or Spider-Man in the same place. Every time I have to meet with one of you the other's off on the other side of the city doing something really important." Her smile had turned almost predatory now. She looked like a hunter than just reeled in their prey, "I wonder why that is."
"Who knows..." He took another sip of the whiskey and let it calm his senses, "Interesting theory you got there, Winters. So, assuming you think I'm Spider-Man that must mean that you think I had something to do with Martin's death. Is that right?"
Surprisingly enough her smile and confidence immediately receded, replaced by something a tad more contemplative, "...I don't know." Her voice turned softer at the question, "Everyone's still scrambling for the details on what happened, including me."
He knew why she was doing this, this whole charade. Just like him she was trying to put what happened to Martin out of her mind, but instead of drinking her problems away she started digging into things that were over her head. Focus on other problems instead of her own and just maybe she could forget how miserable she was. He would've found it pitiable if he didn't do the same damn thing.
"I do know one thing." She took a few more tentative steps towards him,"You cared about Martin, and you wouldn't have killed him if you had any other choice. I'm not even sure if you killed 'him' at all. So..." She grabbed the glass from his hand and placed at the table, "Tell my everything. What happened? And just who the hell are you, Ben Reilly?"
Down the line he'd blame his next action on alcohol and frustration, justify that he wanted to end the argument and he didn't know any other way. Winters didn't have much time to say anything before he pulled her in a sudden kiss. The action was rough and more than a tinge desperate, but if Winters had any complaints she didn't voice them out. Instead she wrapped one arm around the base of his neck and deepened the kiss while Peter fumbled for the buttons of her dress shirt in a rush.
Come tomorrow morning he was sure he'd regret what they did next, but that came later. Right then and there all he focused on was dragging her to the bed and hoping it'd be a while before his senses came back to him.
Again, apologies for anyone that had to trudge through Noir's emoness throughout the entire chapter. Hopefully the brief reprieve we had with Jack and his fleeting bromance with Cletus was enough to keep the chapter for being too depressing. It's rare to find a character who enjoys what they do - both Noir and even Gwen at times can be real whiners about their 'jobs' - so Jack was a definite breath of fresh air.
Speaking of the rating: I'll change it back to T if I can't do the M rating justice by the next chapter. I dunno, I guess I just can't write Mature for this fic after writing with censors for so long. That and I just read through the 2011 Punisher series along with Punisher: War Journal and I really need to add Castle back into the roster. He's gotten shafted ever since he ditched his family.
Still, gotta love that Parker luck: world shits on you, but in exchange you get bursts of abnormal good luck when it comes to girls way out of your league. Lori was justified since he paid her, but both Felicia and Norah (and MJ, who expressed attraction to him) are definitely out of his strike zone - something Eugene pointed out in an earlier chapter in reference to him managing to nearly get to 4th base with Gwen/Spider-Woman.
...I gotta tone this crap down, or maybe give Gwen equal chances on her own. Problem is she has less viable options given her canon relationships and her choices being far more limited: Harry's fugitive terrorist, MJ doesn't want to ask her out, Peter left her with a massive case of blue bean etc etc. Gotta feel sorry for her.
Oh, speaking of Frog-Man, he was also supposed to be in the chapter. Originally he was meant to call Noir because of an 'emergency', and when Noir actually went he found out that he just wanted to impress a girl and called him over as proof that he was 'friends' with Spider-Man. Needless to say this ended with Peter yelling at Eugene, telling him that he's treating being a vigilante like a joke and that when he gets killed no one but his 'loser of a dad' would mourn him or attend his funeral.
I cut this out because I couldn't fit it in narratively, and it would make Noir an even bigger dick than he already is in the chapter since he essentially unloads on Eugene for (an admittedly annoying but still minor) mistake. That and the hero this story needs and wants deserves better than a tongue lashing from Peter of all people.
Anyway, the next chapter will be Jack-o-Lantern vs Spider-Man Noir and a plot many people find familiar. Look forward to it, and drop a comment/like if you can
Loktarogar
The Apex of Cuddling
- Location
- Brazil
Spider-Man scoring all the ladies lol, but it is kinda sad how he is only doing this because he wants to ignore reality...
Well Jack vs Noir is going to be awesome *HYPE*
Also seeing Bullseye again makes want to see him in an adventure with Peter again, maybe involve him against Jack?
Well Jack vs Noir is going to be awesome *HYPE*
Also seeing Bullseye again makes want to see him in an adventure with Peter again, maybe involve him against Jack?
This is film noir in nutshell, though. 9/10 times sex is treated as an escape, just another vice or a manipulation tactic by the femme fatale. Noir follows all 3 since the people he sleeps with in the story tend to treat sex casually or use it to try and manipulate him or garner sympathy. In Norah's case she was likely just caught up in the heat of the moment and didn't think too much about the consequences like Peter also did.
As for Bullseye? Jack is Noir's solo villain, and this is actually enforced in-story with Jack taking measures to counteract other heroes from trying to stop him. Gwen in particular is forced to keep away for varying reasons, the same way Noir doesn't ever truly fight Hobgoblin.
Still, was the chapter alright? The edge level reached through the roof, I think...
Loktarogar
The Apex of Cuddling
- Location
- Brazil
Oh, the chapter was very good, you made the Inner Narration of Peter felt reasonable and not too much Angsty/Edgy, and the apparition of Murdock really surprised me and made feel on the edge of my seat and the way he manipulated Peter continues to be top Villain material.
What in my opinion would be good to see is how Lana is while Peter is lost like this, I mean not by putting her in the fight with Jack, but by making her talk with Peter to confront him about his feelings, and she is the closest to him while disregarding the association of the 'true' Peter Parker body.
Also making the power-level of Carnage to Alex Mercer tier while maintaining Gwen + Venom strength would make everyone watching their fight shit their pants lol, it would be amusing if you do this.
Murdock doesn't even really manipulate Peter by the current chapters. Before he sent him info and basically played him into dealing with his competition, but here it's far more indirect. As Karen Page indicated the only person he made a deal with was DeWolff, and while he could reasonably expect that she'd call Gwen for help he could not have predicted this would lead to Peter managing to kill Martin Li.
Ah...then you might be disappointed cause the person Noir talks to about what happened in the next chapter is Cindy. The family visit also happens, so there's a definite somber tone in their interactions due to them feeling like neither truly belong in Earth-65. Lana is pretty much offscreen taking care of Soider-Pugface.
To be fair Alex Mercer does seem like he was based on the Symbiotes given his abilities and aesthetics. And in Carnage's case only Gwen fights him head on. Peter doesn't even try because both he and Gwen know Cletus would gut him like a fish if he did. Good thing Shriek is there to provide an alternate opponent. Though yes, her friends do freak out when they realize that Gwen's basically gone full on extreme transhuman.
Off topic, but now I'm wondering if a casual relationship with Norah would work. No drama like with Gwen, no manipulation like with Felicia, and also no awkwardness that he'd get with Cindy. She also likely wouldn't throw much of a fit if/when Peter inevitably leaves.
Madou Sutegobana
Autocorrupt has been disabled.
- Location
- Twin Realms Mandala
I think the problem with edgelords in fiction is that they think they're reasonable and get defensive with the audience. Even then they can still be entertaining.
Comic characters are by virtue caricatures and extreme whether it's intentional or not. As another reviewer pointed out, it makes little realistic sense that Noir and Gwen - who are 18 and 19 respectively - can tank so much psychological abuse either in canon or in the fic without simply deciding 'fuck this shit, this isn't worth it'. In essence they act less like humans and more like archetypes with their young age only making it more glaring.
This is why I noted Ed Brubaker's Kill or be Killed series. Main character Dylan is still young at 28, but also feels pathetic cause he's still in college due to a previous suicide attempt holding him back. Likewise whenever he does the vigilante gig he ping-pongs between feeling powerful and in control to violent self-loathing and disgust. This makes him seem far more human compared to (both in canon) Gwen who sticks with her absurd morals even when lacking other solutions or Noir insisting that they kill or brutalize criminals regardless of how many times characters like Mayday Parker or Spider-Gwen disparage or insult him for it.
Chapter 66
First things first, you guys should check out the origin miniseries for the upcoming Marvel's Spider-Man cartoon. It's definitely gotten me hyped to watch it
Oh, and another warning: at the end of the chapter you're going to see Marvel citizens at their average...and if you have any idea how Marvel citizens act normally, you'll know to cringe already. It was a long time coming, so lets just stomach through it :[ Hopefully the chapter will allow me to branch off to something new.
Anyway, one part of this chapter went through some changes. I wanted to show the Cindy family visit, but I delayed it for later. It felt odd cramming it right in the middle of the Jack-o-Lantern arc.
Chapter 65: Trick-or-Treat!
That...may have been a mistake.
Peter brought a hand across his face and let out a soft breath, doing his utter best to ignore the slight pounding in his temples. Hangovers were on the lower end of the scale of things he hated dealing with (and with his powers they never lasted too long), but it didn't mean they were pleasant. Maybe it was why the Spider-God flushed his system so quickly; who'd want a pawn who threw up all over the carpet because he spent the entirety of last night on a binge?
'Not to mention sleeping with people they shouldn't have...' Peter craned his head back and caught sight of Winters' bare back at the other side of the bed. Despite her state of undress she casually messaged someone on her phone, feet tapping against the floor seemingly without a care. He didn't know whether to be relieved or worried - she was pretty damn sure on her guesswork last night and he didn't exactly do anything to discourage her. For all he knew she was texting her her editor about some new scoop.
His eyes trailed down to the small of her back before he shook his head, 'Focus, Parker.' He grabbed for a pair of pants and boots and put them on quickly, Winters looking back slightly when she heard the sound of moving zippers. Again his gaze lingered before he managed to force himself to look back up at her face, "...It's morning."
"Yeah, I noticed." Her words held the same sarcasm as always, but the smile on her face was teasing. She'd seen where he was just looking, "What's wrong, photo monkey? Got somewhere to be."
"Kind of." He grabbed for a dark shirt and draped it over himself clumsily, "Gotta meet up with a friend later. She's visiting family..." The long-planned meeting with Cindy's family...he almost didn't want to go, but it was what he needed. Grant was right about one thing, at least - the last thing he needed was to completely waste his time in mourning. He couldn't afford to considering all the stuff piled on him.
"Hmm..." She tapped something else on her phone before she tossed it to the side and dressed herself, too. Peter made sure to face away from her and did his best to ignore the sound of shifting cloth. It wasn't his first time, but he couldn't help but feel awkward. Maybe it was because he'd been the one to initiate it? She didn't come here to seduce him so he couldn't just pretend he'd gone with the flow like with the others.
Thankfully Lana was gone and she took Dog with her. He didn't want to explain this...
It was only when the sounds finally stopped that he turned around and caught sight of Winters fully dressed, the only sign of what happened last night being her disheveled hair and light bruises on her neck from where he bit...in his defense, the buzz lasted longer considering he'd pumped himself stupid with whiskey. Those bottles cost him a pretty penny, too.
"Hey, you got a scarf?" She turned to face him, right hand gesturing to her neck with a slight expression of annoyance on her face, "Can't exactly go to work looking like I lost a fight with a vacuum cleaner."
"Huh? Oh, sure." He grabbed Jones' scarf from the nightstand and winced as the rosary underneath clattered to the floor, "Here, take it." He tossed it to her and picked up the metal necklace quickly, hoping that Winters hadn't caught sight of it.
No such luck.
"...Is that Martin's rosary?" She asked, one brow raised warily.
"Yeah..." He put it around his neck and breathed in deeply. Stealing from his still-warm corpse...since when did it become so easy for him to take things that didn't belong to him? He hadn't even hesitated to do it before they left the scene and left his body for the police.
"...I'm not gonna ask." Winters pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, "So...gotta talk about that elephant in the room." She sat back down on the bed, though he remained standing, "Everyone's scrambling to figure out what happened with Martin. I know he got outed as a villain, but beyond that it's a scramble. Some people say Spider-Woman stopped him, others said you did it cause he was shot to death and...I dunno, just help me out here, would you?"
"What makes you so sure that I had something-"
"Oh, cut the crap," she interrupted with a huff, "I could list all of the stuff that proves you're Spider-Man, but let's just get right to the ending. You're not an idiot, I'm not an idiot and I'd really rather we skip the pattycake runaround."
"Even if I was Spider-Man, why would I tell you anything? You're a reporter, Summers."
"I'm also your friend; or at least I like to think I am." She let out a frustrated breath and brought a hand through her hair, "Look, I can be pushy and annoying, but I'm not an asshole. You've made enemies, and it says something that triple J's probably the least dangerous on that list. I reveal your identity and you and anyone close to you'll be sleeping with the fishes."
"Would that really stop you?"
"Ignoring that." She rolled her eyes at him and frowned, "Look, I just want to find out what happened to Martin. Was...I dunno, was the way he acted all a lie?" She looked down at her knees, "Was he really just a crime boss in disguise and nothing else like the news is saying?"
He should've kept quiet, should've shut her out, but of course he just had to open his trap, "...No, he wasn't." She looked up at him, eyes slightly wide, "It's...I don't really understand it myself, but he wasn't in control of himself. That other part of him...it was like a split personality, I guess? He didn't know what he was doing. I asked him myself and he didn't lie when he said he would never hurt anyone once he took on the frock."
"...Did you kill him?" Winters' voice had gone deathly soft.
"...I did." Her next breath was sudden and he didn't miss the way her hands clenched and shook, "He asked me to. He told me that...that I couldn't save him and that all the people he's corrupted would stay that way as long as he was alive. Even if we took him to prison..." He trailed off, unable to finish. All it felt like were justifications, and even though he knew it was the lesser evil a part of him kept wondering if he could've done something else.
"Huh...well, shit." She took another slow breath and shook her head, "Well, I guess that answers that. Truth hurts, huh?" She smiled up at him, the gesture wry and bitter, "No wonder you were drinking yourself stupid...well, even more than usual."
"Very funny." He scoffed and looked away. He was glad she was trying to make a joke, at least, "So now you know. What are you going to do?"
"Me? Absolutely fucking nothing, that's what. What am I gonna tell Ben? 'Oh, I got an interview with Spider-Man after we finished some hanky panky. No big'." She snorted, "I wanna clear Martin's name, get the story, but it'd cost us - mostly you, though - way too much. And if there's one thing I know about Martin it's that he'd get really pissed if we wreck both our lives trying to salvage his."
"Yeah, I guess..." The secret would have to die with the two of them. Gwen and DeWolff didn't know the full truth and Moon Knight just didn't care. Just another dead body in the pile for the 'vengeance of Khoshnu'.
"...You know, we gotta stop moping at some point. The world waits for no one and all that jazz." She waved a hand through the air with forced cheer, "Look, you have my number. Call me if you need an angst fest...or if you just wanna talk, I guess."
"Sure, thanks..." He gave her a slight smile. It was genuine, at least, "...Come on, I'll get some coffee brewing."
The two found themselves sitting across one another, each nursing a cup of coffee. Peter swirled the dark liquid with a spoon and and breathed a sigh of relief at the bitter taste on his tongue. Winters took hers with a lot of cream and sugar, which he found at least a tad bizarre. Why she wanted a bucketful of sugar down her throat the first thing in the morning was beyond him, but he didn't question it. Still, the quiet and sort-of understanding between the two was nice.
Which was of course Winters' cue to ruin it.
"You know, sex with a superhero was different than I thought it'd be."
Peter coughed slightly into the cup and set it down in a rush, "Uh, what?" He wiped his mouth with a tissue and ignored the amused snickers that came from the only other person in the apartment. She really wasn't kidding when she said she wanted to stop moping.
"Oh, you know, it's just..." She swung her legs under the table and hummed, "Alright, don't judge me but I do go to those cape watch forums - indicentally that's a pretty ironic name considering I can't think of a single real life superhero that actually wears a cape. It's always spandex and leather, you know?"
"Is this going somewhere?"
"Oh, right." She took a quick sip of her coffee before continuing, "Well, I saw those forums and all of them have these fanfiction-y ideas of what sex is like. With Spider-Woman they think it's about having sex on the side of a building, with Captain America there's some weird shit with the shield and I don't even wanna tell you about She-Hulk. Let's just say there's a lot of 'death by snu-snu' jokes."
"Again, this going somewhere or are you just rambling?"
"It's just...I dunno, last night was almost normal. One or two people have a few drinks, they do something stupid and then they wake up the next day thanking God or whatever alien created us that at least one of them was smart enough to put on a condom so there aren't any accidents. There's nothing really 'super' about that, right?"
"Sorry to disappoint you." He wasn't a prude, but it felt juvenile just discussing this over the dinner table.
"Hey, not saying I'm disappointed, just pointing it out. A lot of people have some weird expectations on what being with a hero is like. It's like with celebs; they just see these larger than life guys and gals with nothing really human about them. It's the Beatles craze all over again, or at least that's what my mom says." She shrugged, "I mean maybe it's just cause I'm a journalist that I don't really get the craze. The job's all about chipping that outer layer and seeing the human person underneath."
"This madhouse is obsessed. That's nothing new..." He frowned into the cup and suppressed a curse. It was definitely one thing he wouldn't miss when he finally left this sinkhole behind, "Besides, I'm not so sure you're not as obsessed. You asked for way too many interviews on...on Spider-Woman." Peter suppressed a wince. He'd nearly said 'Gwen', and he couldn't count on Winters' moment of clarity to be repeated a second time given how much clout she'd get for outing New York's idol.
"That's my job. I didn't do it cause I was an obsessed fan." She said quickly, "Oh, uh, speaking of Spider-Woman, could you not tell her about what we did? I watched that Uma Thurman movie and I really don't want her chucking a shark at my apartment or something. No offense, but you're not that big a catch that I'm willing to fist-fight someone who can bench press a car."
"You wound me, Summers." What the hell did she mean by a shark? The films in this place were bizarre, "Besides, she's not like that."
At least not normally. Peter closed his eyes and suppressed the urge to shiver. What happened at the church still lingered on his mind despite his best efforts. He knew she wouldn't act like that if she'd been in control, that it was because of that bastard's (not Martin's...) corruption, but it did little to help. If he hadn't distracted her, if that suit hadn't held her back, he'd be dead now.
"I love you..."
"Says you. I don't wanna risk getting webbed up to a stop and go light just cause she gets the wrong idea."
"Doesn't matter either way. We're not together."
"Yeah, sure you're not." She snorted again, "I'm sure you just kiss anyone...though given last night that actually wouldn't surprise me." She played with the scarf on her neck.
"Not what I meant." He sighed, "I mean we're not together anymore."
"Wait...no shit?" she asked, getting a muted nod in response, "Um...wow, that's really big news. And unlike your secret identity I don't even have to feel guilty." Peter glared at her, though she paid it no mind, "Alright, photo monkey, give me the details. I want a date, time and exact phrases. What happened? Was it because of stress? Did you know each other under the mask? Leave nothing out."
"We broke up, end of story-"
"Oh, bullshit." She finished her coffee and crossed her arms, "Look, you had a relationship for, what, a week?" Two days, actually, though he didn't correct her. It was barely even that, all things considered, "I've gone out with guys back in Wisconsin for longer and one guy there talked about nothing except cheese and basket crafting. You're telling me you and Spider-Woman decided to just break off?"
"Yes, we just broke it off. Is it that much of a surprise?" He clicked his tongue. Why were they even talking about this? "I told her I was leaving to go back home at some point and that a relationship was off the table. It happens."
"Huh...well, that's kinda depressing." She chewed on the right side of her cheek, considering her next words carefully, "To be honest I was expecting more drama. Where's the shouting, the intrigue, all that stuff? Here I was expecting anguished declarations in the rain about how your love could never be."
"Like you said, Summers. We're all just normal." How would she react, he wondered, to finding out that it was Gwen under the mask? Gwen and her were acquaintances at best, but the realization that both Spider-Man and Spider-Woman were people she interacted with on a casual basis would've caused her head to spin. It definitely threw him for a loop when he found out...
"I guess..." She nodded slightly. Before he could say anything her phone rang and she opened it, her eyes widening almost immediately when she saw the message, "Oh...Oh, shit!" The chair slid back and she stood up abruptly, her mouth parted in shock, "I-I gotta go-"
"What happened?" His brows furrowed in worry.
"Uh, something happened at Ravencroft." She tapped the screen and let out a soft curse, "Urich just sent an office-wide alert. I..." She shook her head and took a deep breath, grabbing her messenger bag and making her way to the door. Peter quickly followed her, "Uh, okay, I gotta go. I'll call you later, promise. If I'm reading this right it definitely involves you."
"What? What do you-"
His question was cut off when she pressed a kiss against his lips. The contact lasted for barely a couple of seconds before she was out of the door, shouting something back about how he should keep his phone open. Peter debated on whether to follow after her or not before he eventually sighed and messaged Cindy that he couldn't make it. Something told him that this was too important to pass over.
"You didn't have to come with me, you know," Norah said, looking at Ben (or was it Spider-Man?) with faux-disapproval. In truth she found his presence comforting; the sparse details on what Urich sent out were enough to make her squeamish, and she liked to think that she had better guts than most in the DB. The fact that no one else from the office was there when she arrived only helped prove that, though that might have been because Eddie was on assignment in Jersey.
"Yeah, well, when the great Norah Summers becomes panicked I can't help but worry," he replied back. He was wearing his mask, which she personally thought was a bad idea considering all the cops here would dogpile him given half the chance, but she kept her mouth shut. He managed to get in with it, right? He could probably get out without too much problem if push came to shove.
That and having a Superhero watching her back was a definite confidence boost. The police managed to clean up most of the mess, but there were still splotches of blood, burn marks and a crapload of other things she didn't like to think about. A lot of dead people here. She wasn't a stranger to violence, but this was definitely enough to creep her out even after it got cleaned up.
"I'll follow along. I'll be there if you need me." Before she could reply or throw back some quip he disappeared in a wisp of smoke. Norah stared at where he previously stood for a few seconds before she sighed and threw up her arms. Right, so she had an invisible Superhero following her. Personally she wondered how he avoided freezing his nuts off, but maybe he just stopped being invisible when she wasn't looking.
She passed by a few officers on the way to the office, most of whom gave her wary looks before they saw the camera that hung around her neck. Journalist was often similar to paparazzi in the eyes of a lot of officers, which was only worsened after the whole Sin Eater debacle. While they were glad Carter was put in a padded cell - at least before this shit went down... - 'serial killer cop' was definitely not a good reputation booster.
If ol' Ben wasn't friends with the one who started this place up she was pretty sure they wouldn't have let take one foot inside the place. She really needed to get more police contacts.
The office was remarkably untouched all things considered, but that wasn't saying much. She saw Dr. Kafka's silhouette through the thick glass and she frowned. How should she approach this? She got the feeling the nosy reporter act wouldn't do her any favors here.
In the end she made do with knocking, which got her a mumbled, "Come in." Taking a deep breath, Norah stepped inside and forced a smile when she saw the older woman sitting at the desk with her head in her hands. Urich told her that the doc was one of those good samaritan types, one of the people who tried to see the good in everyone. Something like this would've been a massive blow.
"Hey, um...Norah Winters, Daily Bugle. I was hoping to ask a few questions."
The doctor finally looked up to her and Norah immediately caught the utter exhaustion in her eyes. There was a woman who looked like she needed a week-long crash, "Hm? Oh, yes. Ben mention you'd be coming," she said. Nora caught a hint of a light German accent, "I suppose you're here to..." Dr. Kafka sighed and put her head in her hands, "...I'm sorry, I know you're expecting an interview, but in truth I'm-"
"H-Hey, don't worry about it." Norah put up both hands and did her best to make her smile appear calming, "I wasn't here earlier, but I can tell what happened here was rough. I'm sorry for intruding like this."
"No, it's not your fault. I did promise Ben to give details, it's just..." She took a deep breath and looked down at the table with a tired gaze, "Many people died last night - some of them friends I've known for years. The only reason I was spared was because I left earlier for an appointment. If not for that I would've..." She trailed off. Norah didn't ask for her to continue.
They stood in silence for a few more seconds before the journalist finally managed to speak up, her tone even and professional - at least as much as it could be given the circumstances, "Dr. Kafka, I know this is hard but could you answer a few questions? What happened here was...honestly, I'm still kinda trying to figure out what happened. I mean an asylum isn't usually some place you break into."
"I don't know much myself," she replied, "I...there are times when I've dealt with the criminally insane, but we put forth every precaution to make sure that they had no means for an escape and almost all of them had no contact outside to stage an escape of some kind. I can only assume that whatever happened here was an outside job, especially given that..."
"Given what, doctor?" Norah prodded.
Dr. Kafka pursed her lips and appeared to be debating on whether she should say something before she eventually spoke up, "There were...two of the prisoners were killed in a specific manner. The insides of their heads were hollowed out with candles placed on them."
"Which two?" She didn't know if it meant anything - and for all she knew it was just two randos who got unlucky - but it couldn't hurt to ask.
"Richard Frost and Stanley Carter. Two of our more recent patients." Norah's eyes widened at the doctor's words. That definitely didn't seem random, "They were...Mr. Carter was making a recovery, though I couldn't say the same for Mr. Frost. The police are trying to find a reason as to why this happened, but the general assumption is that this is a revenge killing."
"Guessing they have a suspect already..."
"Spider-Man, yes." She nodded, though her voice had become a tad uncertain, "I don't personally believe it myself, however. While brutal, I've never seen actual proof of the vigilante attacking innocents nor do I have reason to believe that he'd kill people in such a ritualistic manner. I am no expert on him, but it does not fit the modus operandi he has exhibited so far."
"Thanks for vote of confidence, doc." Norah and Dr. Kafka jumped at the sudden interruption. Turning to the source of the voice, the journalist threw a glare at Spider-Man, which he completely ignored in favor of closing the door behind him, "The boys in blue out there are already talking about stringing me up like a witch. Good to know that doesn't apply to everyone around."
"S-Spider-Man!" Dr. Kafka stood up from her seat, her hands holding into the edge of the desk tightly. She was surprised, though oddly enough Norah didn't catch any hint of fear. Kind of surprising considering the reception he usually got, "H-How long have you-"'
"Long enough," he said. She personally thought it sounded cliche, but whatever, "Still, it's no surprise that the coppers might think I did it. Frost and Carter were singled out, and they weren't exactly in the best state when I was with em before. They must've thought I came to finish the job."
"Yeah, and kill like 2 dozen unrelated security guards. Cause clearly that's something someone does when they wanna kill just criminals, right?" Norah asked sarcastically.
"Jameson's been slandering me ever since I got here. I'm surprised the guards here didn't think I ate the brains that got scooped out of their noggins," Spider-Man said, "Either way it doesn't matter. I checked out the bodies and it doesn't look like they're going to go anywhere any time soon. I think even the cops here are freaked out about what happened."
"It was rather...gruesome." Dr. Kafka swallowed and considered her next words carefully, "Spider-Man, your presence here is...you understand that if either of us are caught talking with you then there will be consequences. Like it or not you're the prime suspect of these murders, or at the very least they believe an associate of yours committed these killings under your urging."
"I think we established that, doc. Thanks." He pulled out a bloody cassette tape from his pocket and tossed it at the table, "Found this lodged in Frost's throat...don't think the forensic boys caught it. Or maybe the police chief's just keeping it under wraps; apparently he's taking money from whoever offers."
"Uh...hate to sound like a wet blanket, but you literally stole that from a crime scene," Norah said, looking at him with slight disapproval. Granted she had little room to talk considering she bribed officers to let her in on ground zero, but she'd never outright taken something when they weren't looking.
"Lesser of two evils. There's another one next to Carter's body and I'm pretty sure they're the same thing," he replied quickly, "You can give it back later if you want, but I think you'll wanna hear this."
What 'this' ended up being was probably the worst revision of of 'Here's to you' that she'd ever heard in her life; and considering her mom's taste in music that was saying something, "Here's to you, Stan and Rich! Rest forever wherever you are! The last and final moment is yours! Your agony is our triumph!" This was followed by the words repeating over and over again enough times to make her want to gouge her ears out.
"Right...what the hell was that? Cause it sounds like someone's shitty mixtape," she muttered sarcastically.
"The voice is familiar. If I'm right it's someone I know and it's the same guy who took out Ogre." He tapped the player and mercifully ended the sad attempt at a song, "Bastard calls himself 'Jack-o-Lantern'; guess he didn't realize that Halloweeen's over."
"Wait, do you mean a guy with a pumpkin for a head?" Norah asked, getting a short nod in return, "Hmm, I've been hearing rumors about that guy. There were sightings of him all over the town on capewatch, but a lot of people think he's just an urban legend like that creepy white ninja dude. There's not really much proof that people could gather."
"Ignoring the burnt mansion and the fracas with the helicopters a couple of days ago, you mean?" Norah practically saw him roll his eyes after the comment, "Still, fits what I saw last time on Ogre's mansion. Sadistic, slow and needless killing...this guy gives Murdock a run for his money."
"Yes, his actions appear to be derived from nothing more than a desire for violence, at least from what I can gather," Dr. Kafka said, "Some things are contradictory, however. The guards were killed and these tapes were presumably left as a sort of calling card, but the camera feeds were cut and other records were expunged. I can't tell what his purpose here was or his objectives in killing both Mr. Frost and Mr. Carter."
"He was trying to send a message..." He picked up the tape recorder again, ignoring the blood that seeped into the gloves, "Jack seems to like an audience, bigger the better. When we first saw him he was practically giddy and showed off what he did to Ogre - and even after that when he burned the mansion down he stayed behind to fight me."
"Attention-seeking behavior is not uncommon in those who suffer certain mental illnesses. Mr. Carter and Mr. Frost had the same compulsion..." Dr. Kafka chewed on her bottom lip and took a slow, deep breath, "The worst part is I fear that this murderer succeeded in that regard. Mayor Jameson called for a speech in Times Square. A sort of damage control, I suppose."
"Oh yeah, Urich said something about that, too. I think Ned's gonna be covering that, though," Norah added, "I'm pretty sure ol' J's gonna use it as a chance to promote his anti-Super message." She honestly found it amazing that he still refused to bend. Granted she didn't support vigilante justice as a whole, but going after Spider-Man or Hawkeye was really damn petty considering the new Kingpin of crime was running around crashing funerals.
"A speech..." Spider-Man muttered. She wondered briefly on whether she should add something before he suddenly nodded, "I gotta go. Something tells me that Jack's gonna try to crash that shindig."
"How do you figure that?" Norah asked.
"Like the doc said, Jack's an attention whore. What better way than crashing the speech of the mayor railing about what he just did?" He pocketed the cassette tape (so much for returning it...) and turned back to her, "Stay away from Times Square, and tell your boss, too. Maybe he can convince Jameson."
"Pfft, no chance of that," she snorted, "Triple J's a stubborn bastard; he's not gonna let up even if you shove the proof to his face, and right now you don't have anything. You are kinda just guessing here, Spidey. But..." She paused, considering her next words, "I'll go to the speech, too. Maybe I can piss Hilter-stache enough that he'll end the thing early. I'll call the police, too; maybe we'll get lucky and our 'esteemed mayor' will actually listen."
"Doubt that's gonna work, but it's your funeral." He sighed, "Just be careful, Summers."
"Hey, you be careful yourself. Maybe you should give Spider-Woman a call? Get some backup?"
"I tried before I got here. She's doing some kind of charity thing with that green amazon and Ci- Spinerette." He sighed again and turned back to Dr. Kafka, "You never saw me, doc. We clear on that?"
"Yes, but do be careful both of you."
"Yeah...something tells me we're gonna need it."
"And I'm telling you right here, right now, as your mayor that I will not stand for these vigilantes who think they can do whatever the hell the want and get in the way of hardworking men and women! We must take a stand now, New York!"
This was the place...
Peter knelt on the rooftop and traced a hand through the almost dried splatter of blood, a smattering of teeth and candy lying on top of the crimson fluid. It couldn't have looked more unnatural if it tried, "Tch, damn it..." He stood up and looked to the overcast sky above. A few drops came from the gray clouds, but Jameson didn't seem to care given how he continued to yell.
"Murderers like Spider-Man and his accomplice need to understand that actions have consequences! That we won't allow them to kill whoever they want! How long before they decide that you or me can be killed with impunity?!"
'Criminy, does this guy never shut up?' Peter frowned and looked over the edge of the roof. He heard him all the way from here - either it was his enhanced hearing or Jameson doubled down on that bullhorn he called a microphone. He had to admit it was frustrating, much as he tried to pretend that it didn't bother him. Everything he'd done and this place considered him as nothing more than a Supervillain.
"What did you expect? You knew this place was filled with ungrateful bastards; you don't get to call foul and play victim now."
"Ungrateful, all of them! Just leave them to die like they deserve!"
'Oh, shut up...' He bit back a growl and pushed open the door that led to the stairway, doing his best to ignore Jameson's speech echoing through the walls. He really hoped that he'd been wrong, that his guess would lead to nothing more than a wild goose chase, but the sight of candy and teeth marking a makeshift trail down the the steps put any thoughts of that out of his head.
He felt like Hansel following the breadcrumbs through the forest...
Peter managed to make it down the steps before his phone buzzed. Eyes narrowing, he tapped the screen and blinked when he saw two messages. The first was from Cindy asking if he could make it to the charity event and the other was from Winters telling him that the traffic slowed her down. He shook his head and shut the phone off. He needed to focus.
The makeshift trail led him to a door at the end of a narrow hallway. At the back of his mind Peter wondered idly what sort of building this was supposed to be. It didn't look like an office building, and the designs were a bit too sleek for a building under construction. If he had to guess it looked like something for science, though he couldn't be sure.
Shaking his head, he opened the door.
Jack stood out like a sore thumb. Peter frowned and closed the door behind him with one hand, the other grabbing his gun in a tight grip. It looked so obvious. The bastard's flaming head lit the place up like a candle in the darkness and the black-green suit was filled to the brim with bombs and other nasties that he didn't want to be on the other end of.
His gaze focused on the surroundings. The walkway was disproportionately large, the path stretching out from one end to another towards a large swath of windows that gave them both a perfect view of Jameson's little speech, 'Something tells me he didn't pick this place by chance...' He frowned. To his left was an equally wide walkway while the open floor below them was filled with deactivated machinery.
Peter managed to get near the end of the walkway before Jack suddenly turned to face him, "Ah, Spidey! Glad you could make it, pal!" He spread his arms wide and stepped forward as if to hug him before Peter raised the gun and aimed it at his head, "Oh, wow, that's cold. That's how you react to seeing me after our magical night at Oggy's mansion? I'm hurt."
"Don't take another step." He scowled. Shooting him would've been so easy, but he needed information, "What did you do with the serum?"
"Aww, work already? I was hoping we could chat first." He giggled. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, "I mean, I gotta admit I didn't think you'd catch me so soon. I didn't leave much clues on where our date was supposed to be. I'm really-"
Whatever he planned to say was cut off when Peter suddenly fired. The bullet rushed through the air and scratched the left side of the the crazy bastard's pumpkin mask before it embedded itself on a nearby wall, "I'm not playing around, Jack. Where's the serum?"
"Oooh, touchy!" He held up his hands in mock surrender and let out a loud peal of laughter, "Alright, if you really wanna know: boss man has it. I dunno what he's planning to do with; didn't care, didn't ask."
He wasn't lying. Peter grit his teeth and stepped closer to him warily, the gun never once wavering from his face. If Jack had even half a mind the damn thing would've been bulletproof, but it sent a message all the same, "Why did you kill Frost and Carter?" He stopped when the madman suddenly laughed, the sound all-encompassing in the empty space.
"Hahahaha, really?! You really gotta ask?!" He laughed again and spread his arms wide, "Just listen to the speech outside! I wanted to see what would happen, and man am I not disappointed! After all the crap you went through to try and save those clowns outside they don't even hesitate to form a lynch mob all cause of that Jameson guy! Really makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
"What are you hoping to prove? That this city hates me? I already knew that."
"Guess you do, but I wanted them to see it, too." He traced a hand through the window and turned away from him, "You know, I really was curious if someone down there would try to speak up for you, but not a one. They're just swallowing that old guy's speech about control and keeping the masked menaces from tearing apart 'this beautiful city'." He chuckled, "I mean let's face it; they don't need help turning this place into a shithole, am I right?"
"Stop rambling." Peter stepped closer once more and pressed the gun at the back of Jack's head, "You're coming with me. The spooks are gonna want to hear what you know."
"Again with work. You're really killing my buzz, Spidey."
His spider-sense rang, and none too soon. Jack barely finished the sentence before he suddenly turned around and swung two knives through the air, the blades rushing through the air and almost hitting where his eyes were.
Peter ducked under the blow and unsheathed his own knife with his free hand. Before Jack could turn around he slashed the blade through his back, his opponent stumbling forward slightly from the blow before he jumped and pivoted towards him.
"Heh, that's my knife," Jack muttered, the flames surrounding his head suddenly growing more intense. Peter narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on both weapons. Despite the slash he couldn't see any hint of blood, "I had some upgrades since we fought last, Spidey. No more arm-breaking for you." He raised both of the knives he held and gestured him forward, "Give it your best shot. It's not gonna work."
He didn't reply. Instead Peter rushed forward, shooting bullets as he went. Jack was true to his word - the bullets impacted against the suit and bounced off harmlessly, earning a laugh from the deranged madman, "Really? I told you it wouldn't work!" Peter ducked under the wide swing and aimed a kick at his legs, though he remained standing.
'Can't be armored everywhere...'
Peter activated the tazer and smacked his right hand with the sharp end when it raised to try and gut him, "Heh, that almost hurt!" Jack taunted. He was downplaying it, but it definitely did some damage. Peter didn't miss the way the bastard's grip on the knife weakened or the way his fingers shook, "You know, I was expecting more dialogue here! Spider-Woman talks all the time!"
"I'm not her."
"Yeah, you're telling me! I mean the people in this place love her! You it seems more they wanna string you up and boil you alive like a witch."
Jack was trying to bait him, but he ignored the taunts. Peter dodged the next blow and stabbed the knife through the madman's left hand. This time Jack did let go of the knife he held, the blade clattering against the walkway with a dull thud, "Ow, that actually hurt!" Jack raised his remaining hand, but he was faster. Peter ducked under the swinging arc, picked up the dropped knife and stabbed it through the remaining limb.
"...Huh." Jack knelt on the floor and looked up at him, the twisted smile carved into the mask looking more and more grotesque as the blood seeped through the wounds and the seconds passed, "You're faster than I thought."
"Your mistake."
He should've paid more attention. Peter never even had the chance to web the bastard down before he heard what sounded like high pitched giggling come from behind him, "What the-" What he saw caused his eyes to go wide from the sheer absurdity. Little devil dolls floating in the air, their open mouths exposing burning cores that gave them an unnatural look.
He didn't get much time to consider just how bizarre it was before they suddenly exploded.
The first one was close and a rush of agonizing heat rushed up Peter's left side, the flames cutting through a portion of the armored clothing. Gritting his teeth as the rest drew closer, Peter shot down as many as he could before he jumped off the railing.
He'd barely landed before they suddenly picked up speed and rushed towards him, "I wuvv your costoome!" One of them screeched, the voice sickly sweet and childish. The little red devil attached itself to his right leg and exploded.
Peter screamed, the sound white-hot and unrestrained. Despite his best efforts he fell, landing on his right side as the little monsters began to swarm him, "Get off me!" He took out his spare gun and fired, shooting as much of the flying machines as he could. Most of them exploded, though a few flew through the shots and grabbed hold of whatever limbs they could.
"I wuv your bwuud!"
And then they bit down. Metal teeth chewed through the reinforced clothing into the flesh underneath, blood quickly rushing through the numerous wounds. Peter abandoned the gun entirely and tried to pry the little bastards off one by one, throwing and smashing them against the nearby walls as fast as he could.
He didn't - couldn't - stop screaming the entire time.
Peter didn't know how long the mess took, but eventually he managed to pry the last one off his neck and crushed it in his hands. The deranged animatronic gave one last laugh before it tilted its nearly-crushed head to the side, "I...wuv...your sowl...!"
The next explosion was stronger than the last ones. Metal and heat exploded outward and Peter was blown back from the impact, smacking against a nearby machine with a painful thud, "Ahh..." His voice came out in a weak, pained gasp and he pressed both hands to the right side of his face. The explosion was enough to burn through a good chunk of the mask and Peter felt blood seep between his fingers.
The pain was intense. Tears escaped from his remaining eye and he couldn't stop himself from whimpering from the numerous cuts and burns. It was his fault for not paying attention, for not being faster.
"At first cock-crow the ghosts must go back to their quiet graves below!" Jack taunted from above, his voice sing-song. Peter just barely saw the flaming bonfire through his remaining eye, "May Jack-o-lanterns burning bright of soft and golden hue pierce through the future's veil and show what fate now holds for you!"
"Shut up!" Peter tried to stand, but his legs refused to cooperate.
"Aww, did that hurt?" Jack dropped down from the railing and walking towards him, ignoring the comparatively minor gashes on his hands, "I knew those little guys would come in handy! Never hurts to be prepared, eh, Spidey?" He knelt down in front of him and laughed. Peter could barely muster up the strength to glare up at him, "Aww, what's wrong? Don't like the tricks? Want a treat instead?"
Peter didn't answer and instead continued to glare up at him.
"Now, now. No need to be so touchy," he mocked, "Show me that pretty mug of yours."
"Go to hell-"
Jack smacked him the gut and Peter dropped his hands, exposing the burnt and bleeding flesh underneath, "No one likes a sore loser, Spidey!" He tilted his head to the side and placed his free hand on the exposed cheek, "Huh, you know I have to say this makeover is really working for you! I mean you actually look better than I thought you did under the mask."
"I'm going to kill you..."
"Oh, and how do you think you're gonna do that?" He traced a hand through his cheek and rested his fingers at his jawline, "From where I'm standing it seems like I'm holding the all the cards. Face it, Spidey. You don't have anything on me, and this time your girlfriend isn't here to save you." He pulled out another knife from his back with his remaining hand and raised it to Peter's face, "Maybe I should throw your body in the crowd when I'm done. Bet that'll really piss Spider-Woman off, huh?"
His next move was desperate, but he was out of options. Before Jack could begin his attempt at carving Peter tilted his head to the side and bit down as hard as he could. He managed to catch the pointer and middle finger of his left hand between his teeth before he bit down harder and wrenched his head back.
He didn't know if it was pain or just shock (hard to tell considering him), but Jack screamed and scrambled back. The madman looked down at his left hand, his gaze focused on the two bleeding stumps where his fingers just were. Peter crawled away desperately and spat out the nubs of flesh, grimacing at the taste of Jack's blood in his mouth.
Peter managed a shaky stand before Jack finally looked back at him, "You're really, really ballsy. You know that?" He laughed, though it sounded strained compared to before, "Alright, playtime's over."
Jack tossed a grenade at him, the dark explosive soaring through the air in a wide arc. Peter's spider-sense rang again and he concentrated, ignoring the pain that ran up his temples as everything slowed to a crawl. All he needed was one shot.
Raising his right hand, he clicked Gwen's webshooter and grabbed the grenade with a thin line of webbing before it could finish its arc. Jack said something, but he couldn't make it out. It didn't matter either way. Peter focused his attention on the next few seconds and let instinct move his body, '...There.' His gaze shifted to the mask that covered Jack's face and he threw the grenade back.
The explosive flew through the mouth of the pumpkin. Jack barely had time to let out a surprised curse before the grenade detonated, destroying the mask and forcing Peter on his knees at the sudden impact. He raised a hand to cover his face and tried to ignore the sudden rush of heat. It wasn't a regular explosive, that at least he was sure of.
Anyone else would have - should have - died.
But not him.
Peter lowered the hand covering his face and gaped when he saw Jack kneeling on the floor, his hands still trying to hold himself up. The face underneath was mangled beyond anything he'd seen. What little of it that wasn't covered in flames was red and raw, but it was nothing compared to his jaw. The lower half of his face almost detached altogether, the jaw barely hanging on from a strip of flesh connected to his right cheek.
Jack should be dead, Peter thought numbly. He'd seen Gwen and Cindy survive worse, but the rational, desperate part of his mind hoped that inertia would catch up and the madman would collapse on the floor from the pain of his wounds.
No such luck. His spider-sense gave a barely heard blare before the makeshift glider came from above, flames spewing from the end of the bastardized mechanical broomstick, 'He's trying to escape...' Peter grit his teeth and forced himself to stand. Just let him go, a part of him said. He couldn't fight like this, neither of them could. He could retreat and patch up his wounds, maybe get Gwen, Bullseye or Cindy's help next time.
He didn't listen.
Jack clambered on top of the broomstick clumsily and Peter followed. The madman took to the air before he could catch up so he did the next best thing, "Get...back here!" He ejected a line of webbing to the underside of the glider, wincing at the sudden rush of heat that came from above.
The glider smashed through the window and flew into open air. Peter shut his eyes tightly and bit his tongue to keep from screaming as shards of glass pierced his body, 'Don't let go, don't let go...' He tightened his grip on the white webbing and pulled himself up. He was keenly aware that the crowds below saw them. He heard every scream, the panic as they tried to run away.
Peter was almost at the top before his spider-sense blared again, the sound cutting through the screams and stamping footsteps. Jack slowed the glider down and looked down at him...and he swore the bastard laughed.
He saw why a second later. Jack detached an entire belt of grenades from his chest and let it fall, orange smoke seeping from pack before it suddenly fell on a clustered crowd.
What happened next was something he'd never forget. The grenades exploded and the orange smoke spread throughout the crowd. Peter heard their screams, heard the agonized cries of pain as their skin burned and melted. Some stopped and held onto their loved ones tighter as they died, but just as many others pushed and trampled each other to try and escape the rushing tide.
"No!"
He didn't even hear his next spider-sense. Peter barely had time to look up before he caught sight of Jack with a sickle raised in the air and a look of utter madness in his eyes. Before he could do anything Jack slashed the miniature scythe down and embedded the tip of the blade on his right arm.
Peter fell. Looking back there might have been something he could have done, a way he could've saved everyone from the madness that unfolded, but right now he didn't have the benefit of hindsight. Jack sped away on the glider and Peter gave a final, futile attempt to web the broomstick.
He missed.
He didn't have long to regret his actions before he landed on the ground, the sickle flying of fun his arm from the sudden impact. Peter didn't know if luck decided to favor him or it just wanted to twist the knife further considering his 'cushion' was a pile of bodies that had been unlucky enough to be near the explosion when it occurred.
The first thing he smelled was blood followed by the overpowering smell of burnt flesh. Peter untangled himself from the pile of fresh corpses in a panic and resisted the urge to vomit, 'Gotta get out...' He covered the lower half of his face and looked around desperately, tears in his remaining eye. He heard screams from his left, which meant people still alive.
A part of him wondered if he should have looked around for survivors, but panic pushed him forward. It was cowardly, but right now the instinct to survive pushed through any guilt he might have felt.
He didn't know how long he ran, how long the lingering gas clung and tried to burn through his skin, but eventually he managed through the orange mist. Peter only managed two steps into the clear, open space before he collapsed on his hands and knees, his breaths frantic as he gulped in the untainted air.
The screams didn't stop. All around him he heard yelling, crying and futile calls for friends and loved ones who might have been caught in the blast. Peter shut his eyes tightly and mustered up all his willpower to keep himself from collapsing in a fetal heap. Jack was still out there and he'd killed dozens, all because of what? A distraction? A final middle finger? He didn't know.
Minutes passed and no one paid him any mind, too concerned with their own fears and worries to pay any attention to him. He didn't blame them, and for a fleeting moment he thought he might have been able slip through the crowd and lose himself in the chaos before anyone realized who he was.
Sadly, Jameson had others ideas.
Peter just barely managed the strength to make a weak stand before he heard him, "You! This is all your fault!" He looked up and gave a weak grimace when he caught sight of Jameson's crusty mug standing a short distance away. He was one of the lucky ones - his suit barely looked scuffed and he saw at least a few guards at his side, "You and that crazy partner of yours! You did this!"
"You...You think I wanted this to happen?!" Unbelievable...absolutely unbelievable. Most of the crowd paid them no mind, but he saw more than a few turning towards him, their faces grief-stricken and angry.
They needed someone to blame and Jameson was throwing fuel into the fire.
"Don't even try to deny it, you damn menace! Your partner threw those grenades!"
"Don't act surprised, kid. You already knew these people hated you."
"I didn't..."
"Oh, he left you behind, but that doesn't mean you're not at fault! You think I don't know a con when I see it?! You arrest those criminals and then he kills them in prison, taking innocent men and women with him! I know your type!"
"Ungrateful! Kill him! Kill all of them! They don't deserve to be saved!"
"Stop it..."
"You have to answer for what you've done to everyone here! Everyone who died today died because of you!"
Peter wanted to scream at him to shut up, wanted to tell him that he did his best to stop this madness, but he never got the chance to. Someone from the crowd bought into the spiel and threw their bag at him, the impact hard enough to make him hiss in pain due to all his injuries.
It was a cavalcade after that. Food, drinks, bags, stones...anything they could grab they threw. Peter raised his hands to try and stem the tide, but it was no use. They needed someone to blame, needed to hurt someone like they'd been hurt, and he was the only one they could get. The voices grew louder, each accusing him...condemning him.
"Murderer!"
"Monster!"
"You killed my son, you son of a bitch!"
"We won't be bullied, do you hear me?!" Jameson screamed, "We won't-"
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
The scream was loud enough to cause them to pause. Peter glared at the Jameson and the assorted crowd, their faces stunned silent at the sudden, anguished cry. Peter looked down at his bloody and burned hands and clenched them tightly. He must've looked pathetic - his costume in tatters, his mask half-destroyed and his entire body covered in cuts and burns.
"Months I've spent cleaning up this madhouse's messes, and what do I get? Nothing." He laughed bitterly, "Nothing but half the city accusing me of being a Supervillain, that I'm no better than those bastards who do what they do because they're greedy, lazy or because they wanna hurt people..." Frost, Carter, Vulture and God only knew who else...he was no better in their eyes, actions be damned.
"We never asked for your help, you menace!" Jameson shot back, his voice as strong as ever.
"Yeah, I see that now..." He gave Jameson a final, spiteful glare, "You know what, you don't want my help? Fine! Clean up your own damn messes because I'm done playing hero!"
He could tell Jameson wanted to say something, but he didn't give him a chance. Peter let himself disappear in a wisp of smoke and ran, uncaring of where he went so long as it was away from them all.
Well...that happened :/ Anyway, yeah, it's the 'Spider-Man no more' plot point. Do you guys think Peter's justified in acting this way? I may be biased but I'd have to say yes, all things considered. He's spent about 5 months in Earth-65 and not only has he had a shit time of it but he seemingly inherited Gwen's bad rep. And to be fair he didn't think about quitting till Jameson rubbed salt into the wound and the crowd started 'stoning' him, at which point he just snapped.
Of course one could also say that it's not that much of a stretch to consider that it's Peter's fault since Jack killed Muse and Sin Eater beforehand and villains - at least in the eyes of the populace - come about due to a connection to the hero. Granted that's hardly the hero's fault, but for a lot of people unintentional consequences are equal to intentional ones.
So yeah...Peter's given up - it's rather irresponsible since he's letting Jack run amok, but if Jameson thinks he can handle it himself then by all means. Gwen POV next chapter for the fallout of what happened here, and of course more angst since Peter's likely in an unstable state.
I do wonder if I should jump back to the T rating for ff.net. Nothing really M rated happened here as far as fanfiction standards and I actually toned it down - Jack was supposed to cut off Peter's arm and there were supposed to be more details on the people Jack burnt alive, but I cut it out. Now the most gruesome thing that happened is Peter biting off two of Jack's fingers and the whole 'grenade jaw' thing.
And yes, I'm well-aware the fight scene could have ended differently, but to be fair that's nothing new. Fight scenes tend to run into that problem where if the hero was just slightly smarter it could end better, but hindsight is always 20-20.
Anyway, leave a like/comment. Always appreciate those
Oh, and another warning: at the end of the chapter you're going to see Marvel citizens at their average...and if you have any idea how Marvel citizens act normally, you'll know to cringe already. It was a long time coming, so lets just stomach through it :[ Hopefully the chapter will allow me to branch off to something new.
Anyway, one part of this chapter went through some changes. I wanted to show the Cindy family visit, but I delayed it for later. It felt odd cramming it right in the middle of the Jack-o-Lantern arc.
Chapter 65: Trick-or-Treat!
That...may have been a mistake.
Peter brought a hand across his face and let out a soft breath, doing his utter best to ignore the slight pounding in his temples. Hangovers were on the lower end of the scale of things he hated dealing with (and with his powers they never lasted too long), but it didn't mean they were pleasant. Maybe it was why the Spider-God flushed his system so quickly; who'd want a pawn who threw up all over the carpet because he spent the entirety of last night on a binge?
'Not to mention sleeping with people they shouldn't have...' Peter craned his head back and caught sight of Winters' bare back at the other side of the bed. Despite her state of undress she casually messaged someone on her phone, feet tapping against the floor seemingly without a care. He didn't know whether to be relieved or worried - she was pretty damn sure on her guesswork last night and he didn't exactly do anything to discourage her. For all he knew she was texting her her editor about some new scoop.
His eyes trailed down to the small of her back before he shook his head, 'Focus, Parker.' He grabbed for a pair of pants and boots and put them on quickly, Winters looking back slightly when she heard the sound of moving zippers. Again his gaze lingered before he managed to force himself to look back up at her face, "...It's morning."
"Yeah, I noticed." Her words held the same sarcasm as always, but the smile on her face was teasing. She'd seen where he was just looking, "What's wrong, photo monkey? Got somewhere to be."
"Kind of." He grabbed for a dark shirt and draped it over himself clumsily, "Gotta meet up with a friend later. She's visiting family..." The long-planned meeting with Cindy's family...he almost didn't want to go, but it was what he needed. Grant was right about one thing, at least - the last thing he needed was to completely waste his time in mourning. He couldn't afford to considering all the stuff piled on him.
"Hmm..." She tapped something else on her phone before she tossed it to the side and dressed herself, too. Peter made sure to face away from her and did his best to ignore the sound of shifting cloth. It wasn't his first time, but he couldn't help but feel awkward. Maybe it was because he'd been the one to initiate it? She didn't come here to seduce him so he couldn't just pretend he'd gone with the flow like with the others.
Thankfully Lana was gone and she took Dog with her. He didn't want to explain this...
It was only when the sounds finally stopped that he turned around and caught sight of Winters fully dressed, the only sign of what happened last night being her disheveled hair and light bruises on her neck from where he bit...in his defense, the buzz lasted longer considering he'd pumped himself stupid with whiskey. Those bottles cost him a pretty penny, too.
"Hey, you got a scarf?" She turned to face him, right hand gesturing to her neck with a slight expression of annoyance on her face, "Can't exactly go to work looking like I lost a fight with a vacuum cleaner."
"Huh? Oh, sure." He grabbed Jones' scarf from the nightstand and winced as the rosary underneath clattered to the floor, "Here, take it." He tossed it to her and picked up the metal necklace quickly, hoping that Winters hadn't caught sight of it.
No such luck.
"...Is that Martin's rosary?" She asked, one brow raised warily.
"Yeah..." He put it around his neck and breathed in deeply. Stealing from his still-warm corpse...since when did it become so easy for him to take things that didn't belong to him? He hadn't even hesitated to do it before they left the scene and left his body for the police.
"...I'm not gonna ask." Winters pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, "So...gotta talk about that elephant in the room." She sat back down on the bed, though he remained standing, "Everyone's scrambling to figure out what happened with Martin. I know he got outed as a villain, but beyond that it's a scramble. Some people say Spider-Woman stopped him, others said you did it cause he was shot to death and...I dunno, just help me out here, would you?"
"What makes you so sure that I had something-"
"Oh, cut the crap," she interrupted with a huff, "I could list all of the stuff that proves you're Spider-Man, but let's just get right to the ending. You're not an idiot, I'm not an idiot and I'd really rather we skip the pattycake runaround."
"Even if I was Spider-Man, why would I tell you anything? You're a reporter, Summers."
"I'm also your friend; or at least I like to think I am." She let out a frustrated breath and brought a hand through her hair, "Look, I can be pushy and annoying, but I'm not an asshole. You've made enemies, and it says something that triple J's probably the least dangerous on that list. I reveal your identity and you and anyone close to you'll be sleeping with the fishes."
"Would that really stop you?"
"Ignoring that." She rolled her eyes at him and frowned, "Look, I just want to find out what happened to Martin. Was...I dunno, was the way he acted all a lie?" She looked down at her knees, "Was he really just a crime boss in disguise and nothing else like the news is saying?"
He should've kept quiet, should've shut her out, but of course he just had to open his trap, "...No, he wasn't." She looked up at him, eyes slightly wide, "It's...I don't really understand it myself, but he wasn't in control of himself. That other part of him...it was like a split personality, I guess? He didn't know what he was doing. I asked him myself and he didn't lie when he said he would never hurt anyone once he took on the frock."
"...Did you kill him?" Winters' voice had gone deathly soft.
"...I did." Her next breath was sudden and he didn't miss the way her hands clenched and shook, "He asked me to. He told me that...that I couldn't save him and that all the people he's corrupted would stay that way as long as he was alive. Even if we took him to prison..." He trailed off, unable to finish. All it felt like were justifications, and even though he knew it was the lesser evil a part of him kept wondering if he could've done something else.
"Huh...well, shit." She took another slow breath and shook her head, "Well, I guess that answers that. Truth hurts, huh?" She smiled up at him, the gesture wry and bitter, "No wonder you were drinking yourself stupid...well, even more than usual."
"Very funny." He scoffed and looked away. He was glad she was trying to make a joke, at least, "So now you know. What are you going to do?"
"Me? Absolutely fucking nothing, that's what. What am I gonna tell Ben? 'Oh, I got an interview with Spider-Man after we finished some hanky panky. No big'." She snorted, "I wanna clear Martin's name, get the story, but it'd cost us - mostly you, though - way too much. And if there's one thing I know about Martin it's that he'd get really pissed if we wreck both our lives trying to salvage his."
"Yeah, I guess..." The secret would have to die with the two of them. Gwen and DeWolff didn't know the full truth and Moon Knight just didn't care. Just another dead body in the pile for the 'vengeance of Khoshnu'.
"...You know, we gotta stop moping at some point. The world waits for no one and all that jazz." She waved a hand through the air with forced cheer, "Look, you have my number. Call me if you need an angst fest...or if you just wanna talk, I guess."
"Sure, thanks..." He gave her a slight smile. It was genuine, at least, "...Come on, I'll get some coffee brewing."
The two found themselves sitting across one another, each nursing a cup of coffee. Peter swirled the dark liquid with a spoon and and breathed a sigh of relief at the bitter taste on his tongue. Winters took hers with a lot of cream and sugar, which he found at least a tad bizarre. Why she wanted a bucketful of sugar down her throat the first thing in the morning was beyond him, but he didn't question it. Still, the quiet and sort-of understanding between the two was nice.
Which was of course Winters' cue to ruin it.
"You know, sex with a superhero was different than I thought it'd be."
Peter coughed slightly into the cup and set it down in a rush, "Uh, what?" He wiped his mouth with a tissue and ignored the amused snickers that came from the only other person in the apartment. She really wasn't kidding when she said she wanted to stop moping.
"Oh, you know, it's just..." She swung her legs under the table and hummed, "Alright, don't judge me but I do go to those cape watch forums - indicentally that's a pretty ironic name considering I can't think of a single real life superhero that actually wears a cape. It's always spandex and leather, you know?"
"Is this going somewhere?"
"Oh, right." She took a quick sip of her coffee before continuing, "Well, I saw those forums and all of them have these fanfiction-y ideas of what sex is like. With Spider-Woman they think it's about having sex on the side of a building, with Captain America there's some weird shit with the shield and I don't even wanna tell you about She-Hulk. Let's just say there's a lot of 'death by snu-snu' jokes."
"Again, this going somewhere or are you just rambling?"
"It's just...I dunno, last night was almost normal. One or two people have a few drinks, they do something stupid and then they wake up the next day thanking God or whatever alien created us that at least one of them was smart enough to put on a condom so there aren't any accidents. There's nothing really 'super' about that, right?"
"Sorry to disappoint you." He wasn't a prude, but it felt juvenile just discussing this over the dinner table.
"Hey, not saying I'm disappointed, just pointing it out. A lot of people have some weird expectations on what being with a hero is like. It's like with celebs; they just see these larger than life guys and gals with nothing really human about them. It's the Beatles craze all over again, or at least that's what my mom says." She shrugged, "I mean maybe it's just cause I'm a journalist that I don't really get the craze. The job's all about chipping that outer layer and seeing the human person underneath."
"This madhouse is obsessed. That's nothing new..." He frowned into the cup and suppressed a curse. It was definitely one thing he wouldn't miss when he finally left this sinkhole behind, "Besides, I'm not so sure you're not as obsessed. You asked for way too many interviews on...on Spider-Woman." Peter suppressed a wince. He'd nearly said 'Gwen', and he couldn't count on Winters' moment of clarity to be repeated a second time given how much clout she'd get for outing New York's idol.
"That's my job. I didn't do it cause I was an obsessed fan." She said quickly, "Oh, uh, speaking of Spider-Woman, could you not tell her about what we did? I watched that Uma Thurman movie and I really don't want her chucking a shark at my apartment or something. No offense, but you're not that big a catch that I'm willing to fist-fight someone who can bench press a car."
"You wound me, Summers." What the hell did she mean by a shark? The films in this place were bizarre, "Besides, she's not like that."
At least not normally. Peter closed his eyes and suppressed the urge to shiver. What happened at the church still lingered on his mind despite his best efforts. He knew she wouldn't act like that if she'd been in control, that it was because of that bastard's (not Martin's...) corruption, but it did little to help. If he hadn't distracted her, if that suit hadn't held her back, he'd be dead now.
"I love you..."
"Says you. I don't wanna risk getting webbed up to a stop and go light just cause she gets the wrong idea."
"Doesn't matter either way. We're not together."
"Yeah, sure you're not." She snorted again, "I'm sure you just kiss anyone...though given last night that actually wouldn't surprise me." She played with the scarf on her neck.
"Not what I meant." He sighed, "I mean we're not together anymore."
"Wait...no shit?" she asked, getting a muted nod in response, "Um...wow, that's really big news. And unlike your secret identity I don't even have to feel guilty." Peter glared at her, though she paid it no mind, "Alright, photo monkey, give me the details. I want a date, time and exact phrases. What happened? Was it because of stress? Did you know each other under the mask? Leave nothing out."
"We broke up, end of story-"
"Oh, bullshit." She finished her coffee and crossed her arms, "Look, you had a relationship for, what, a week?" Two days, actually, though he didn't correct her. It was barely even that, all things considered, "I've gone out with guys back in Wisconsin for longer and one guy there talked about nothing except cheese and basket crafting. You're telling me you and Spider-Woman decided to just break off?"
"Yes, we just broke it off. Is it that much of a surprise?" He clicked his tongue. Why were they even talking about this? "I told her I was leaving to go back home at some point and that a relationship was off the table. It happens."
"Huh...well, that's kinda depressing." She chewed on the right side of her cheek, considering her next words carefully, "To be honest I was expecting more drama. Where's the shouting, the intrigue, all that stuff? Here I was expecting anguished declarations in the rain about how your love could never be."
"Like you said, Summers. We're all just normal." How would she react, he wondered, to finding out that it was Gwen under the mask? Gwen and her were acquaintances at best, but the realization that both Spider-Man and Spider-Woman were people she interacted with on a casual basis would've caused her head to spin. It definitely threw him for a loop when he found out...
"I guess..." She nodded slightly. Before he could say anything her phone rang and she opened it, her eyes widening almost immediately when she saw the message, "Oh...Oh, shit!" The chair slid back and she stood up abruptly, her mouth parted in shock, "I-I gotta go-"
"What happened?" His brows furrowed in worry.
"Uh, something happened at Ravencroft." She tapped the screen and let out a soft curse, "Urich just sent an office-wide alert. I..." She shook her head and took a deep breath, grabbing her messenger bag and making her way to the door. Peter quickly followed her, "Uh, okay, I gotta go. I'll call you later, promise. If I'm reading this right it definitely involves you."
"What? What do you-"
His question was cut off when she pressed a kiss against his lips. The contact lasted for barely a couple of seconds before she was out of the door, shouting something back about how he should keep his phone open. Peter debated on whether to follow after her or not before he eventually sighed and messaged Cindy that he couldn't make it. Something told him that this was too important to pass over.
"You didn't have to come with me, you know," Norah said, looking at Ben (or was it Spider-Man?) with faux-disapproval. In truth she found his presence comforting; the sparse details on what Urich sent out were enough to make her squeamish, and she liked to think that she had better guts than most in the DB. The fact that no one else from the office was there when she arrived only helped prove that, though that might have been because Eddie was on assignment in Jersey.
"Yeah, well, when the great Norah Summers becomes panicked I can't help but worry," he replied back. He was wearing his mask, which she personally thought was a bad idea considering all the cops here would dogpile him given half the chance, but she kept her mouth shut. He managed to get in with it, right? He could probably get out without too much problem if push came to shove.
That and having a Superhero watching her back was a definite confidence boost. The police managed to clean up most of the mess, but there were still splotches of blood, burn marks and a crapload of other things she didn't like to think about. A lot of dead people here. She wasn't a stranger to violence, but this was definitely enough to creep her out even after it got cleaned up.
"I'll follow along. I'll be there if you need me." Before she could reply or throw back some quip he disappeared in a wisp of smoke. Norah stared at where he previously stood for a few seconds before she sighed and threw up her arms. Right, so she had an invisible Superhero following her. Personally she wondered how he avoided freezing his nuts off, but maybe he just stopped being invisible when she wasn't looking.
She passed by a few officers on the way to the office, most of whom gave her wary looks before they saw the camera that hung around her neck. Journalist was often similar to paparazzi in the eyes of a lot of officers, which was only worsened after the whole Sin Eater debacle. While they were glad Carter was put in a padded cell - at least before this shit went down... - 'serial killer cop' was definitely not a good reputation booster.
If ol' Ben wasn't friends with the one who started this place up she was pretty sure they wouldn't have let take one foot inside the place. She really needed to get more police contacts.
The office was remarkably untouched all things considered, but that wasn't saying much. She saw Dr. Kafka's silhouette through the thick glass and she frowned. How should she approach this? She got the feeling the nosy reporter act wouldn't do her any favors here.
In the end she made do with knocking, which got her a mumbled, "Come in." Taking a deep breath, Norah stepped inside and forced a smile when she saw the older woman sitting at the desk with her head in her hands. Urich told her that the doc was one of those good samaritan types, one of the people who tried to see the good in everyone. Something like this would've been a massive blow.
"Hey, um...Norah Winters, Daily Bugle. I was hoping to ask a few questions."
The doctor finally looked up to her and Norah immediately caught the utter exhaustion in her eyes. There was a woman who looked like she needed a week-long crash, "Hm? Oh, yes. Ben mention you'd be coming," she said. Nora caught a hint of a light German accent, "I suppose you're here to..." Dr. Kafka sighed and put her head in her hands, "...I'm sorry, I know you're expecting an interview, but in truth I'm-"
"H-Hey, don't worry about it." Norah put up both hands and did her best to make her smile appear calming, "I wasn't here earlier, but I can tell what happened here was rough. I'm sorry for intruding like this."
"No, it's not your fault. I did promise Ben to give details, it's just..." She took a deep breath and looked down at the table with a tired gaze, "Many people died last night - some of them friends I've known for years. The only reason I was spared was because I left earlier for an appointment. If not for that I would've..." She trailed off. Norah didn't ask for her to continue.
They stood in silence for a few more seconds before the journalist finally managed to speak up, her tone even and professional - at least as much as it could be given the circumstances, "Dr. Kafka, I know this is hard but could you answer a few questions? What happened here was...honestly, I'm still kinda trying to figure out what happened. I mean an asylum isn't usually some place you break into."
"I don't know much myself," she replied, "I...there are times when I've dealt with the criminally insane, but we put forth every precaution to make sure that they had no means for an escape and almost all of them had no contact outside to stage an escape of some kind. I can only assume that whatever happened here was an outside job, especially given that..."
"Given what, doctor?" Norah prodded.
Dr. Kafka pursed her lips and appeared to be debating on whether she should say something before she eventually spoke up, "There were...two of the prisoners were killed in a specific manner. The insides of their heads were hollowed out with candles placed on them."
"Which two?" She didn't know if it meant anything - and for all she knew it was just two randos who got unlucky - but it couldn't hurt to ask.
"Richard Frost and Stanley Carter. Two of our more recent patients." Norah's eyes widened at the doctor's words. That definitely didn't seem random, "They were...Mr. Carter was making a recovery, though I couldn't say the same for Mr. Frost. The police are trying to find a reason as to why this happened, but the general assumption is that this is a revenge killing."
"Guessing they have a suspect already..."
"Spider-Man, yes." She nodded, though her voice had become a tad uncertain, "I don't personally believe it myself, however. While brutal, I've never seen actual proof of the vigilante attacking innocents nor do I have reason to believe that he'd kill people in such a ritualistic manner. I am no expert on him, but it does not fit the modus operandi he has exhibited so far."
"Thanks for vote of confidence, doc." Norah and Dr. Kafka jumped at the sudden interruption. Turning to the source of the voice, the journalist threw a glare at Spider-Man, which he completely ignored in favor of closing the door behind him, "The boys in blue out there are already talking about stringing me up like a witch. Good to know that doesn't apply to everyone around."
"S-Spider-Man!" Dr. Kafka stood up from her seat, her hands holding into the edge of the desk tightly. She was surprised, though oddly enough Norah didn't catch any hint of fear. Kind of surprising considering the reception he usually got, "H-How long have you-"'
"Long enough," he said. She personally thought it sounded cliche, but whatever, "Still, it's no surprise that the coppers might think I did it. Frost and Carter were singled out, and they weren't exactly in the best state when I was with em before. They must've thought I came to finish the job."
"Yeah, and kill like 2 dozen unrelated security guards. Cause clearly that's something someone does when they wanna kill just criminals, right?" Norah asked sarcastically.
"Jameson's been slandering me ever since I got here. I'm surprised the guards here didn't think I ate the brains that got scooped out of their noggins," Spider-Man said, "Either way it doesn't matter. I checked out the bodies and it doesn't look like they're going to go anywhere any time soon. I think even the cops here are freaked out about what happened."
"It was rather...gruesome." Dr. Kafka swallowed and considered her next words carefully, "Spider-Man, your presence here is...you understand that if either of us are caught talking with you then there will be consequences. Like it or not you're the prime suspect of these murders, or at the very least they believe an associate of yours committed these killings under your urging."
"I think we established that, doc. Thanks." He pulled out a bloody cassette tape from his pocket and tossed it at the table, "Found this lodged in Frost's throat...don't think the forensic boys caught it. Or maybe the police chief's just keeping it under wraps; apparently he's taking money from whoever offers."
"Uh...hate to sound like a wet blanket, but you literally stole that from a crime scene," Norah said, looking at him with slight disapproval. Granted she had little room to talk considering she bribed officers to let her in on ground zero, but she'd never outright taken something when they weren't looking.
"Lesser of two evils. There's another one next to Carter's body and I'm pretty sure they're the same thing," he replied quickly, "You can give it back later if you want, but I think you'll wanna hear this."
What 'this' ended up being was probably the worst revision of of 'Here's to you' that she'd ever heard in her life; and considering her mom's taste in music that was saying something, "Here's to you, Stan and Rich! Rest forever wherever you are! The last and final moment is yours! Your agony is our triumph!" This was followed by the words repeating over and over again enough times to make her want to gouge her ears out.
"Right...what the hell was that? Cause it sounds like someone's shitty mixtape," she muttered sarcastically.
"The voice is familiar. If I'm right it's someone I know and it's the same guy who took out Ogre." He tapped the player and mercifully ended the sad attempt at a song, "Bastard calls himself 'Jack-o-Lantern'; guess he didn't realize that Halloweeen's over."
"Wait, do you mean a guy with a pumpkin for a head?" Norah asked, getting a short nod in return, "Hmm, I've been hearing rumors about that guy. There were sightings of him all over the town on capewatch, but a lot of people think he's just an urban legend like that creepy white ninja dude. There's not really much proof that people could gather."
"Ignoring the burnt mansion and the fracas with the helicopters a couple of days ago, you mean?" Norah practically saw him roll his eyes after the comment, "Still, fits what I saw last time on Ogre's mansion. Sadistic, slow and needless killing...this guy gives Murdock a run for his money."
"Yes, his actions appear to be derived from nothing more than a desire for violence, at least from what I can gather," Dr. Kafka said, "Some things are contradictory, however. The guards were killed and these tapes were presumably left as a sort of calling card, but the camera feeds were cut and other records were expunged. I can't tell what his purpose here was or his objectives in killing both Mr. Frost and Mr. Carter."
"He was trying to send a message..." He picked up the tape recorder again, ignoring the blood that seeped into the gloves, "Jack seems to like an audience, bigger the better. When we first saw him he was practically giddy and showed off what he did to Ogre - and even after that when he burned the mansion down he stayed behind to fight me."
"Attention-seeking behavior is not uncommon in those who suffer certain mental illnesses. Mr. Carter and Mr. Frost had the same compulsion..." Dr. Kafka chewed on her bottom lip and took a slow, deep breath, "The worst part is I fear that this murderer succeeded in that regard. Mayor Jameson called for a speech in Times Square. A sort of damage control, I suppose."
"Oh yeah, Urich said something about that, too. I think Ned's gonna be covering that, though," Norah added, "I'm pretty sure ol' J's gonna use it as a chance to promote his anti-Super message." She honestly found it amazing that he still refused to bend. Granted she didn't support vigilante justice as a whole, but going after Spider-Man or Hawkeye was really damn petty considering the new Kingpin of crime was running around crashing funerals.
"A speech..." Spider-Man muttered. She wondered briefly on whether she should add something before he suddenly nodded, "I gotta go. Something tells me that Jack's gonna try to crash that shindig."
"How do you figure that?" Norah asked.
"Like the doc said, Jack's an attention whore. What better way than crashing the speech of the mayor railing about what he just did?" He pocketed the cassette tape (so much for returning it...) and turned back to her, "Stay away from Times Square, and tell your boss, too. Maybe he can convince Jameson."
"Pfft, no chance of that," she snorted, "Triple J's a stubborn bastard; he's not gonna let up even if you shove the proof to his face, and right now you don't have anything. You are kinda just guessing here, Spidey. But..." She paused, considering her next words, "I'll go to the speech, too. Maybe I can piss Hilter-stache enough that he'll end the thing early. I'll call the police, too; maybe we'll get lucky and our 'esteemed mayor' will actually listen."
"Doubt that's gonna work, but it's your funeral." He sighed, "Just be careful, Summers."
"Hey, you be careful yourself. Maybe you should give Spider-Woman a call? Get some backup?"
"I tried before I got here. She's doing some kind of charity thing with that green amazon and Ci- Spinerette." He sighed again and turned back to Dr. Kafka, "You never saw me, doc. We clear on that?"
"Yes, but do be careful both of you."
"Yeah...something tells me we're gonna need it."
"And I'm telling you right here, right now, as your mayor that I will not stand for these vigilantes who think they can do whatever the hell the want and get in the way of hardworking men and women! We must take a stand now, New York!"
This was the place...
Peter knelt on the rooftop and traced a hand through the almost dried splatter of blood, a smattering of teeth and candy lying on top of the crimson fluid. It couldn't have looked more unnatural if it tried, "Tch, damn it..." He stood up and looked to the overcast sky above. A few drops came from the gray clouds, but Jameson didn't seem to care given how he continued to yell.
"Murderers like Spider-Man and his accomplice need to understand that actions have consequences! That we won't allow them to kill whoever they want! How long before they decide that you or me can be killed with impunity?!"
'Criminy, does this guy never shut up?' Peter frowned and looked over the edge of the roof. He heard him all the way from here - either it was his enhanced hearing or Jameson doubled down on that bullhorn he called a microphone. He had to admit it was frustrating, much as he tried to pretend that it didn't bother him. Everything he'd done and this place considered him as nothing more than a Supervillain.
"What did you expect? You knew this place was filled with ungrateful bastards; you don't get to call foul and play victim now."
"Ungrateful, all of them! Just leave them to die like they deserve!"
'Oh, shut up...' He bit back a growl and pushed open the door that led to the stairway, doing his best to ignore Jameson's speech echoing through the walls. He really hoped that he'd been wrong, that his guess would lead to nothing more than a wild goose chase, but the sight of candy and teeth marking a makeshift trail down the the steps put any thoughts of that out of his head.
He felt like Hansel following the breadcrumbs through the forest...
Peter managed to make it down the steps before his phone buzzed. Eyes narrowing, he tapped the screen and blinked when he saw two messages. The first was from Cindy asking if he could make it to the charity event and the other was from Winters telling him that the traffic slowed her down. He shook his head and shut the phone off. He needed to focus.
The makeshift trail led him to a door at the end of a narrow hallway. At the back of his mind Peter wondered idly what sort of building this was supposed to be. It didn't look like an office building, and the designs were a bit too sleek for a building under construction. If he had to guess it looked like something for science, though he couldn't be sure.
Shaking his head, he opened the door.
Jack stood out like a sore thumb. Peter frowned and closed the door behind him with one hand, the other grabbing his gun in a tight grip. It looked so obvious. The bastard's flaming head lit the place up like a candle in the darkness and the black-green suit was filled to the brim with bombs and other nasties that he didn't want to be on the other end of.
His gaze focused on the surroundings. The walkway was disproportionately large, the path stretching out from one end to another towards a large swath of windows that gave them both a perfect view of Jameson's little speech, 'Something tells me he didn't pick this place by chance...' He frowned. To his left was an equally wide walkway while the open floor below them was filled with deactivated machinery.
Peter managed to get near the end of the walkway before Jack suddenly turned to face him, "Ah, Spidey! Glad you could make it, pal!" He spread his arms wide and stepped forward as if to hug him before Peter raised the gun and aimed it at his head, "Oh, wow, that's cold. That's how you react to seeing me after our magical night at Oggy's mansion? I'm hurt."
"Don't take another step." He scowled. Shooting him would've been so easy, but he needed information, "What did you do with the serum?"
"Aww, work already? I was hoping we could chat first." He giggled. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, "I mean, I gotta admit I didn't think you'd catch me so soon. I didn't leave much clues on where our date was supposed to be. I'm really-"
Whatever he planned to say was cut off when Peter suddenly fired. The bullet rushed through the air and scratched the left side of the the crazy bastard's pumpkin mask before it embedded itself on a nearby wall, "I'm not playing around, Jack. Where's the serum?"
"Oooh, touchy!" He held up his hands in mock surrender and let out a loud peal of laughter, "Alright, if you really wanna know: boss man has it. I dunno what he's planning to do with; didn't care, didn't ask."
He wasn't lying. Peter grit his teeth and stepped closer to him warily, the gun never once wavering from his face. If Jack had even half a mind the damn thing would've been bulletproof, but it sent a message all the same, "Why did you kill Frost and Carter?" He stopped when the madman suddenly laughed, the sound all-encompassing in the empty space.
"Hahahaha, really?! You really gotta ask?!" He laughed again and spread his arms wide, "Just listen to the speech outside! I wanted to see what would happen, and man am I not disappointed! After all the crap you went through to try and save those clowns outside they don't even hesitate to form a lynch mob all cause of that Jameson guy! Really makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
"What are you hoping to prove? That this city hates me? I already knew that."
"Guess you do, but I wanted them to see it, too." He traced a hand through the window and turned away from him, "You know, I really was curious if someone down there would try to speak up for you, but not a one. They're just swallowing that old guy's speech about control and keeping the masked menaces from tearing apart 'this beautiful city'." He chuckled, "I mean let's face it; they don't need help turning this place into a shithole, am I right?"
"Stop rambling." Peter stepped closer once more and pressed the gun at the back of Jack's head, "You're coming with me. The spooks are gonna want to hear what you know."
"Again with work. You're really killing my buzz, Spidey."
His spider-sense rang, and none too soon. Jack barely finished the sentence before he suddenly turned around and swung two knives through the air, the blades rushing through the air and almost hitting where his eyes were.
Peter ducked under the blow and unsheathed his own knife with his free hand. Before Jack could turn around he slashed the blade through his back, his opponent stumbling forward slightly from the blow before he jumped and pivoted towards him.
"Heh, that's my knife," Jack muttered, the flames surrounding his head suddenly growing more intense. Peter narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on both weapons. Despite the slash he couldn't see any hint of blood, "I had some upgrades since we fought last, Spidey. No more arm-breaking for you." He raised both of the knives he held and gestured him forward, "Give it your best shot. It's not gonna work."
He didn't reply. Instead Peter rushed forward, shooting bullets as he went. Jack was true to his word - the bullets impacted against the suit and bounced off harmlessly, earning a laugh from the deranged madman, "Really? I told you it wouldn't work!" Peter ducked under the wide swing and aimed a kick at his legs, though he remained standing.
'Can't be armored everywhere...'
Peter activated the tazer and smacked his right hand with the sharp end when it raised to try and gut him, "Heh, that almost hurt!" Jack taunted. He was downplaying it, but it definitely did some damage. Peter didn't miss the way the bastard's grip on the knife weakened or the way his fingers shook, "You know, I was expecting more dialogue here! Spider-Woman talks all the time!"
"I'm not her."
"Yeah, you're telling me! I mean the people in this place love her! You it seems more they wanna string you up and boil you alive like a witch."
Jack was trying to bait him, but he ignored the taunts. Peter dodged the next blow and stabbed the knife through the madman's left hand. This time Jack did let go of the knife he held, the blade clattering against the walkway with a dull thud, "Ow, that actually hurt!" Jack raised his remaining hand, but he was faster. Peter ducked under the swinging arc, picked up the dropped knife and stabbed it through the remaining limb.
"...Huh." Jack knelt on the floor and looked up at him, the twisted smile carved into the mask looking more and more grotesque as the blood seeped through the wounds and the seconds passed, "You're faster than I thought."
"Your mistake."
He should've paid more attention. Peter never even had the chance to web the bastard down before he heard what sounded like high pitched giggling come from behind him, "What the-" What he saw caused his eyes to go wide from the sheer absurdity. Little devil dolls floating in the air, their open mouths exposing burning cores that gave them an unnatural look.
He didn't get much time to consider just how bizarre it was before they suddenly exploded.
The first one was close and a rush of agonizing heat rushed up Peter's left side, the flames cutting through a portion of the armored clothing. Gritting his teeth as the rest drew closer, Peter shot down as many as he could before he jumped off the railing.
He'd barely landed before they suddenly picked up speed and rushed towards him, "I wuvv your costoome!" One of them screeched, the voice sickly sweet and childish. The little red devil attached itself to his right leg and exploded.
Peter screamed, the sound white-hot and unrestrained. Despite his best efforts he fell, landing on his right side as the little monsters began to swarm him, "Get off me!" He took out his spare gun and fired, shooting as much of the flying machines as he could. Most of them exploded, though a few flew through the shots and grabbed hold of whatever limbs they could.
"I wuv your bwuud!"
And then they bit down. Metal teeth chewed through the reinforced clothing into the flesh underneath, blood quickly rushing through the numerous wounds. Peter abandoned the gun entirely and tried to pry the little bastards off one by one, throwing and smashing them against the nearby walls as fast as he could.
He didn't - couldn't - stop screaming the entire time.
Peter didn't know how long the mess took, but eventually he managed to pry the last one off his neck and crushed it in his hands. The deranged animatronic gave one last laugh before it tilted its nearly-crushed head to the side, "I...wuv...your sowl...!"
The next explosion was stronger than the last ones. Metal and heat exploded outward and Peter was blown back from the impact, smacking against a nearby machine with a painful thud, "Ahh..." His voice came out in a weak, pained gasp and he pressed both hands to the right side of his face. The explosion was enough to burn through a good chunk of the mask and Peter felt blood seep between his fingers.
The pain was intense. Tears escaped from his remaining eye and he couldn't stop himself from whimpering from the numerous cuts and burns. It was his fault for not paying attention, for not being faster.
"At first cock-crow the ghosts must go back to their quiet graves below!" Jack taunted from above, his voice sing-song. Peter just barely saw the flaming bonfire through his remaining eye, "May Jack-o-lanterns burning bright of soft and golden hue pierce through the future's veil and show what fate now holds for you!"
"Shut up!" Peter tried to stand, but his legs refused to cooperate.
"Aww, did that hurt?" Jack dropped down from the railing and walking towards him, ignoring the comparatively minor gashes on his hands, "I knew those little guys would come in handy! Never hurts to be prepared, eh, Spidey?" He knelt down in front of him and laughed. Peter could barely muster up the strength to glare up at him, "Aww, what's wrong? Don't like the tricks? Want a treat instead?"
Peter didn't answer and instead continued to glare up at him.
"Now, now. No need to be so touchy," he mocked, "Show me that pretty mug of yours."
"Go to hell-"
Jack smacked him the gut and Peter dropped his hands, exposing the burnt and bleeding flesh underneath, "No one likes a sore loser, Spidey!" He tilted his head to the side and placed his free hand on the exposed cheek, "Huh, you know I have to say this makeover is really working for you! I mean you actually look better than I thought you did under the mask."
"I'm going to kill you..."
"Oh, and how do you think you're gonna do that?" He traced a hand through his cheek and rested his fingers at his jawline, "From where I'm standing it seems like I'm holding the all the cards. Face it, Spidey. You don't have anything on me, and this time your girlfriend isn't here to save you." He pulled out another knife from his back with his remaining hand and raised it to Peter's face, "Maybe I should throw your body in the crowd when I'm done. Bet that'll really piss Spider-Woman off, huh?"
His next move was desperate, but he was out of options. Before Jack could begin his attempt at carving Peter tilted his head to the side and bit down as hard as he could. He managed to catch the pointer and middle finger of his left hand between his teeth before he bit down harder and wrenched his head back.
He didn't know if it was pain or just shock (hard to tell considering him), but Jack screamed and scrambled back. The madman looked down at his left hand, his gaze focused on the two bleeding stumps where his fingers just were. Peter crawled away desperately and spat out the nubs of flesh, grimacing at the taste of Jack's blood in his mouth.
Peter managed a shaky stand before Jack finally looked back at him, "You're really, really ballsy. You know that?" He laughed, though it sounded strained compared to before, "Alright, playtime's over."
Jack tossed a grenade at him, the dark explosive soaring through the air in a wide arc. Peter's spider-sense rang again and he concentrated, ignoring the pain that ran up his temples as everything slowed to a crawl. All he needed was one shot.
Raising his right hand, he clicked Gwen's webshooter and grabbed the grenade with a thin line of webbing before it could finish its arc. Jack said something, but he couldn't make it out. It didn't matter either way. Peter focused his attention on the next few seconds and let instinct move his body, '...There.' His gaze shifted to the mask that covered Jack's face and he threw the grenade back.
The explosive flew through the mouth of the pumpkin. Jack barely had time to let out a surprised curse before the grenade detonated, destroying the mask and forcing Peter on his knees at the sudden impact. He raised a hand to cover his face and tried to ignore the sudden rush of heat. It wasn't a regular explosive, that at least he was sure of.
Anyone else would have - should have - died.
But not him.
Peter lowered the hand covering his face and gaped when he saw Jack kneeling on the floor, his hands still trying to hold himself up. The face underneath was mangled beyond anything he'd seen. What little of it that wasn't covered in flames was red and raw, but it was nothing compared to his jaw. The lower half of his face almost detached altogether, the jaw barely hanging on from a strip of flesh connected to his right cheek.
Jack should be dead, Peter thought numbly. He'd seen Gwen and Cindy survive worse, but the rational, desperate part of his mind hoped that inertia would catch up and the madman would collapse on the floor from the pain of his wounds.
No such luck. His spider-sense gave a barely heard blare before the makeshift glider came from above, flames spewing from the end of the bastardized mechanical broomstick, 'He's trying to escape...' Peter grit his teeth and forced himself to stand. Just let him go, a part of him said. He couldn't fight like this, neither of them could. He could retreat and patch up his wounds, maybe get Gwen, Bullseye or Cindy's help next time.
He didn't listen.
Jack clambered on top of the broomstick clumsily and Peter followed. The madman took to the air before he could catch up so he did the next best thing, "Get...back here!" He ejected a line of webbing to the underside of the glider, wincing at the sudden rush of heat that came from above.
The glider smashed through the window and flew into open air. Peter shut his eyes tightly and bit his tongue to keep from screaming as shards of glass pierced his body, 'Don't let go, don't let go...' He tightened his grip on the white webbing and pulled himself up. He was keenly aware that the crowds below saw them. He heard every scream, the panic as they tried to run away.
Peter was almost at the top before his spider-sense blared again, the sound cutting through the screams and stamping footsteps. Jack slowed the glider down and looked down at him...and he swore the bastard laughed.
He saw why a second later. Jack detached an entire belt of grenades from his chest and let it fall, orange smoke seeping from pack before it suddenly fell on a clustered crowd.
What happened next was something he'd never forget. The grenades exploded and the orange smoke spread throughout the crowd. Peter heard their screams, heard the agonized cries of pain as their skin burned and melted. Some stopped and held onto their loved ones tighter as they died, but just as many others pushed and trampled each other to try and escape the rushing tide.
"No!"
He didn't even hear his next spider-sense. Peter barely had time to look up before he caught sight of Jack with a sickle raised in the air and a look of utter madness in his eyes. Before he could do anything Jack slashed the miniature scythe down and embedded the tip of the blade on his right arm.
Peter fell. Looking back there might have been something he could have done, a way he could've saved everyone from the madness that unfolded, but right now he didn't have the benefit of hindsight. Jack sped away on the glider and Peter gave a final, futile attempt to web the broomstick.
He missed.
He didn't have long to regret his actions before he landed on the ground, the sickle flying of fun his arm from the sudden impact. Peter didn't know if luck decided to favor him or it just wanted to twist the knife further considering his 'cushion' was a pile of bodies that had been unlucky enough to be near the explosion when it occurred.
The first thing he smelled was blood followed by the overpowering smell of burnt flesh. Peter untangled himself from the pile of fresh corpses in a panic and resisted the urge to vomit, 'Gotta get out...' He covered the lower half of his face and looked around desperately, tears in his remaining eye. He heard screams from his left, which meant people still alive.
A part of him wondered if he should have looked around for survivors, but panic pushed him forward. It was cowardly, but right now the instinct to survive pushed through any guilt he might have felt.
He didn't know how long he ran, how long the lingering gas clung and tried to burn through his skin, but eventually he managed through the orange mist. Peter only managed two steps into the clear, open space before he collapsed on his hands and knees, his breaths frantic as he gulped in the untainted air.
The screams didn't stop. All around him he heard yelling, crying and futile calls for friends and loved ones who might have been caught in the blast. Peter shut his eyes tightly and mustered up all his willpower to keep himself from collapsing in a fetal heap. Jack was still out there and he'd killed dozens, all because of what? A distraction? A final middle finger? He didn't know.
Minutes passed and no one paid him any mind, too concerned with their own fears and worries to pay any attention to him. He didn't blame them, and for a fleeting moment he thought he might have been able slip through the crowd and lose himself in the chaos before anyone realized who he was.
Sadly, Jameson had others ideas.
Peter just barely managed the strength to make a weak stand before he heard him, "You! This is all your fault!" He looked up and gave a weak grimace when he caught sight of Jameson's crusty mug standing a short distance away. He was one of the lucky ones - his suit barely looked scuffed and he saw at least a few guards at his side, "You and that crazy partner of yours! You did this!"
"You...You think I wanted this to happen?!" Unbelievable...absolutely unbelievable. Most of the crowd paid them no mind, but he saw more than a few turning towards him, their faces grief-stricken and angry.
They needed someone to blame and Jameson was throwing fuel into the fire.
"Don't even try to deny it, you damn menace! Your partner threw those grenades!"
"Don't act surprised, kid. You already knew these people hated you."
"I didn't..."
"Oh, he left you behind, but that doesn't mean you're not at fault! You think I don't know a con when I see it?! You arrest those criminals and then he kills them in prison, taking innocent men and women with him! I know your type!"
"Ungrateful! Kill him! Kill all of them! They don't deserve to be saved!"
"Stop it..."
"You have to answer for what you've done to everyone here! Everyone who died today died because of you!"
Peter wanted to scream at him to shut up, wanted to tell him that he did his best to stop this madness, but he never got the chance to. Someone from the crowd bought into the spiel and threw their bag at him, the impact hard enough to make him hiss in pain due to all his injuries.
It was a cavalcade after that. Food, drinks, bags, stones...anything they could grab they threw. Peter raised his hands to try and stem the tide, but it was no use. They needed someone to blame, needed to hurt someone like they'd been hurt, and he was the only one they could get. The voices grew louder, each accusing him...condemning him.
"Murderer!"
"Monster!"
"You killed my son, you son of a bitch!"
"We won't be bullied, do you hear me?!" Jameson screamed, "We won't-"
"LEAVE ME ALONE!"
The scream was loud enough to cause them to pause. Peter glared at the Jameson and the assorted crowd, their faces stunned silent at the sudden, anguished cry. Peter looked down at his bloody and burned hands and clenched them tightly. He must've looked pathetic - his costume in tatters, his mask half-destroyed and his entire body covered in cuts and burns.
"Months I've spent cleaning up this madhouse's messes, and what do I get? Nothing." He laughed bitterly, "Nothing but half the city accusing me of being a Supervillain, that I'm no better than those bastards who do what they do because they're greedy, lazy or because they wanna hurt people..." Frost, Carter, Vulture and God only knew who else...he was no better in their eyes, actions be damned.
"We never asked for your help, you menace!" Jameson shot back, his voice as strong as ever.
"Yeah, I see that now..." He gave Jameson a final, spiteful glare, "You know what, you don't want my help? Fine! Clean up your own damn messes because I'm done playing hero!"
He could tell Jameson wanted to say something, but he didn't give him a chance. Peter let himself disappear in a wisp of smoke and ran, uncaring of where he went so long as it was away from them all.
Well...that happened :/ Anyway, yeah, it's the 'Spider-Man no more' plot point. Do you guys think Peter's justified in acting this way? I may be biased but I'd have to say yes, all things considered. He's spent about 5 months in Earth-65 and not only has he had a shit time of it but he seemingly inherited Gwen's bad rep. And to be fair he didn't think about quitting till Jameson rubbed salt into the wound and the crowd started 'stoning' him, at which point he just snapped.
Of course one could also say that it's not that much of a stretch to consider that it's Peter's fault since Jack killed Muse and Sin Eater beforehand and villains - at least in the eyes of the populace - come about due to a connection to the hero. Granted that's hardly the hero's fault, but for a lot of people unintentional consequences are equal to intentional ones.
So yeah...Peter's given up - it's rather irresponsible since he's letting Jack run amok, but if Jameson thinks he can handle it himself then by all means. Gwen POV next chapter for the fallout of what happened here, and of course more angst since Peter's likely in an unstable state.
I do wonder if I should jump back to the T rating for ff.net. Nothing really M rated happened here as far as fanfiction standards and I actually toned it down - Jack was supposed to cut off Peter's arm and there were supposed to be more details on the people Jack burnt alive, but I cut it out. Now the most gruesome thing that happened is Peter biting off two of Jack's fingers and the whole 'grenade jaw' thing.
And yes, I'm well-aware the fight scene could have ended differently, but to be fair that's nothing new. Fight scenes tend to run into that problem where if the hero was just slightly smarter it could end better, but hindsight is always 20-20.
Anyway, leave a like/comment. Always appreciate those
Knight-Radiant
Recovering Rageaholic
Nah, that's the joke.
Her name is Winters but Peter calls her Summers to annoy her.
Knight Radiant got it right
It's also cause she keeps calling him Photo Monkey even after she finds out his secret identity. Admittedly Peter is just lame at giving names, as one can tell you him still refusing to name Spider-Pugface properly.
Loktarogar
The Apex of Cuddling
- Location
- Brazil
Damn, I foresee Jack trying to make Spidey(Senpai) notice him hard in the future.
Goddammit, let me say again that I love scenes where the protagonist is filled with wounds but fights on with pure Iron-will and Determination!
Now let's see how Gwen will see the aftermath of this mess, and there is also the thing that Peter did warn her that something was going to happen, but she went to her thing instead...that way lies guilty.
Goddammit, let me say again that I love scenes where the protagonist is filled with wounds but fights on with pure Iron-will and Determination!
Now let's see how Gwen will see the aftermath of this mess, and there is also the thing that Peter did warn her that something was going to happen, but she went to her thing instead...that way lies guilty.
Oh God, now I have an image of Jack wearing a schoolgirl uniform :[ Anyway, the iron will and determination scene arguably fits Jack more. Dude loses two fingers and gets his face blown with a grenade - leaving his jaw hanging by a thread - and he just keeps on trucking. He even manages to escape and leave Noir with his hand in the cookie jar.
Doubly impressive considering Jack is confirmed in canon to have no superpowers, meaning that unlike Noir he has nothing but pure human stubbornness and refusal to die going for him. Matter of fact this applies to many of the main antagonists: Octavius, 65-Cindy and Murdock also have no superpowers and yet they run circles around the metahuman cast.
As for Gwen blaming herself? Pretty likely, but as usual hardly her fault. What I meant to imply is that she didn't pick up her phone, not that she deliberately refused Peter. Also Peter kinda screws the pooch considering Cindy did text him back about the charity thing and his response was to shut his phone off rather than ask for help.
Loktarogar
The Apex of Cuddling
- Location
- Brazil
Murdock is kinda blurry he does have super-senses, but yeah his toughness is human.
And oh yeah Octavius is pure determination in human form, in the comics, his body is filled with wounds and cracks on his bones from lots of years fighting Spider-Man yet he does not give a fuck.
Also, I wonder how Jack is going to deal with his wounds...Looking forward to his future appearance!
Well, his senses are 'normal' by Marvel standards. The same way Bullseye is 'normal' despite the fact that he can use his turds as lethal projectiles, which is pretty fucking impossible in real life. Normal in comics does not equal normal in real life. Same reason why some people in-universe still hold the belief that Noir has no powers, invisibility aside.
As for Jack's wounds, just look at the 2011 Venom series. The grenade jaw incident? I didn't make that up; he actually survived that in canon. Evidently they just stapled his jaw back and he kept trucking despite how absurd it seems. He's also noted to be a master assassin in the wiki, and considering Marvel standards I'd have to say he's on par with the likes of Elektra Natchios and Ikari in terms of skill. Impressing since he's likely late teen so to early 20's at best.
Speaking of which, any reviews/comments/criticisms on the chapter as a whole? I'm curious to know if anything feels forced, contrived or poorly written.
Loktarogar
The Apex of Cuddling
- Location
- Brazil
Well to me the quality of the chap is nice as always.
Something the scene of the bombing made me remember is the motto for Spider-Man 'With great power comes great responsibility' is different for Noir 'if there is too much power, then it is the responsibility of the people to take it away' basically he will always focus on punishing the bad guys, but the act of saving people is not his responsibility.
Something the scene of the bombing made me remember is the motto for Spider-Man 'With great power comes great responsibility' is different for Noir 'if there is too much power, then it is the responsibility of the people to take it away' basically he will always focus on punishing the bad guys, but the act of saving people is not his responsibility.
Hmm, I'm not so sure. While we do see him place more emphasis on punishing the guilty we also see him do things like spending 10 chapters saving Gabriel Reyes or even just him escorting Gayle Watson back home because she was scared. The original part of the chapter also had him search the phosphorous zone for survivors, but I cut that out since it made him seem way too self-sacrificing to an absurd degree.
This is actually something I've had problems with. Gwen is touted in-universe and out as the more heroic and kind of the duo, but looking back Peter spends way more time damaging himself for the sake of others - Gabriel, Castle's family, Sin Eater, off-screen Khoshnu cult etc etc - while Gwen focuses more on her loved ones. Likewise Peter seems to proactively go after villains while Gwen just kinda stumbles onto them, which is also weird considering their circumstances.
Do you or anyone else find this bizarre? Even in this chapter Peter runs off to find Jack immediately while Gwen's busy with a charity appearance.
Loktarogar
The Apex of Cuddling
- Location
- Brazil
I think this topic could be interesting to see referenced in-story.
But I do want to share my theories
the way I see it is because Peter is latching into the Identity of Noir hard, because of the Lizard Peter and to reaffirm his Identity making him go superheroing in a slightly obsessive way.
For Gwen I got nothing, maybe the Spider luck did not strike her out yet? Or Gwen has been busy with her newfound fame and is focusing less on heroing?
But I do want to share my theories
the way I see it is because Peter is latching into the Identity of Noir hard, because of the Lizard Peter and to reaffirm his Identity making him go superheroing in a slightly obsessive way.
For Gwen I got nothing, maybe the Spider luck did not strike her out yet? Or Gwen has been busy with her newfound fame and is focusing less on heroing?