Post by Drake on Aug 15, 2014 12:06:19 GMT -5
#2: Regenesis Part 2
High School Never Ends
By Drake
“I am so sick of hearing this, Raxton!”
Mark Raxton, 6-feet-something ESU freshman football player and cousin to Peter Parker’s highschool crush, Liz Allan, backed up a step as the short, balding Italian man in front of him shouted. The two goons to Mark’s left and right grabbed hold of the teen. The redshirt freshman shrugged them off with a frustrated grunt and looked back at Vincent Maroni.
“Listen, Vinny,” Mark begged, “I’ve got the money coming, I swear. I know I say that a lot, but I put some down on this Empire State pre season game, and…”
“Jesus, kid!” Maroni massaged his temples, “You got a serious gambling problem. I got to admit it’s people like you who keep me in business, but by the Lord almighty...” The casino owner sighed, “Kid. Raxton. Marky. Gambling got you into this mess. You can’t pay up, so you’re first thought is to go gamble some more to make up the money? I can’t trust that, and I can’t trust you, kid. You’re a bad bet.”
“C’mon!” Mark got onto his knees and bowed before the Italian, “I can’t…I—I’ll pay up. Please, Vinny.”
“You’re damn right you will.” Mark perked up, but was shot back down by the fierce expression on Maroni’s face.
“I got debts of my own, kid. Age-old debts…” Maroni crossed his arms, “You’re gonna help me pay ‘em.”
“I’ll do anything!” Mark interjected, “Anything at all!”
“I’m glad you say that,” Maroni chuckled, and turned back to the bar in his empty small-time casino to pour himself a drink, “Boys, take Marky here and bring ‘im to the Big Man.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” one of the goons agreed. Mark stood up and turned to face them.
“So, what is it that I—“
The teen was silenced as one of the goons covered his mouth with a wet rag. He struggled and tried to cry, but he got nowhere. Before long, his vision faded to darkness.
Maroni watched his hired thugs’ handiwork with a frown, taking a sip of wine, “Pity, kid. I always liked you.”
----
Peter Parker collapsed onto the rough cot in his dorm room, a rather messy white-walled two-bed lodging. Boxes were strewn around, both opened and unopened; some belonged to Peter, some to his mysterious roommate—Richard Rider. The young mutate hadn’t yet met his roommate, having spent most of his day out fighting crime. Yet another thing to add to his list of crappy first day college experiences. Class started in two days—or one, rather, as Peter realized when he looked at the clock—and he didn’t even know what his roommate looked like. Such was the life of a teenaged superhero.
Of course, that wasn’t even mentioning his biggest mishap of the day—skipping out on his prodigal best friend, Harry Osborn. The guy had been about to tell Peter something important when he’d left to stop a bank robbery. Adding onto that, the cops thought he was a thief, his aunt was probably still a little mad at him for showing up late to freshman orientation—Peter couldn’t imagine how she’d react if she found out he’d ditched it within minutes of arriving—and he’d lost track of Mark Raxton, Liz’s cousin, when the guy supposedly had some issues. Peter knew that wasn’t really his problem, but he couldn’t help feeling responsible. Liz, despite all he’d gone through in high school, was his friend…well, probably, and lord knows Flash wasn’t going to do a damn thing to help. The jock was as smart as a brick.
On the plus side, Peter had some peace and quiet. Sure, he’d clocked in at past midnight, totally exhausted and feeling a bit down, but he could get a decent night’s sleep in his new bed.
Or at least, he should have.
The door to Peter’s room slammed open. The teen jerked upright, alert, but his spider sense hadn’t gone off. That meant there was no threat…unless you counted a girl straddling your roommate, making out with him as he walked into the room a threat. Peter had to admit this might be costume-worthy.
The two intimate teens fell back onto Richard’s bed, the young man first, his long, messy brown hair flattening against the crude mattress. Peter froze, unable to think. What the hell was he supposed to do? Awkwardly, he didn’t look away from the two as they kissed.
Finally, the girl noticed Peter, pausing mid-kiss right as Richard began to reach under her shirt. She pulled away. Richard groaned.
“What?”
“Uh…” The girl continued her awkward staring contest with Peter, “Roommate.”
Richard turned to look at Peter. An odd mix of pleasure and disappointment lit up in his eyes. “Oh, hey. You’re Peter, right?”
“Yeah,” was all Peter managed, now looking at Richard.
“Well…” Richard sat up, causing his lady-friend to stand up, “This definitely wasn’t how I wanted us to meet. I, uh…we can go, if you want.”
“No,” Peter stood up. What the hell was he doing? “I was just thinking I could use some fresh air.” No, he wasn’t. Why was he saying this??
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” Not. No way. God, this couldn’t get worse.
“Well, thanks, man.”
Peter grabbed his backpack full of Spider-Man gear and his camera, and a pillow, before leaving the room. He resisted the urge to slam the door.
And such was the life of Peter Parker.
----
Peter walked dazedly down Empire State’s campus, ignoring the uncomfortable glances of the security guards and drunken students he passed by. Fresh air. Just wonderful. Where was he supposed to sleep now? In a tree? Where did college students go when their roommate was getting funky with someone? What would possibly be open now, at nearly one in the morning?
“Kirk Library,” Peter read the sign aloud, “Open 24 hours for the hardworking students of Empire State University to better succeed in their studies.”
Peter considered his options, before muttering, “Why not?”
The walk inside wasn’t as awkward as he’d thought it would be. There was a librarian near the front, a grumpy old woman who very clearly hated her job, but no one else in sight. Peter waved hello, but only got a shushing in response. It was wonderful to know ESU hired the best and kindest in the business.
Peter’s second response upon entering the library was to gape in awe at how big it was. He’d never seen anything like it, even at the local library near Midtown High. There were three separate floors, each one half the size of a football field. Tens of thousands of books were sorted and shelved, and while Peter may have been an almost entirely digital reader, he had to admit he cried a little on the inside at the sight.
The brunet wandered around, his exhaustion suddenly the last thing on his mind. Soon enough, Peter realized there was a fourth floor: a basement. He tried the door to it, but found it was locked. He continued his exploration of the library, looking at shelf after shelf. Eventually, he found himself on the top floor, near the back of the library. As he passed by a shelf, Peter felt his foot come up against something slippery and he tripped and fell to the ground.
Instinctively, Peter bounced back up. He looked down at his feet. A sleeping bag was hidden there, a tuft of blonde hair evident in the cracks of the zipper. Peter gulped as the bag slowly opened up, exposing a beautiful blonde girl, around his age, with slightly messy hair and bright blue eyes. She wore lime green hipster glasses, which matched her similarly colored hoodie.
“What—oh. Sorry, I thought you were the librarian,” the blonde muttered, rubbing her eyes beneath the glasses. She sat up.
“No, I’m sorry,” Peter bent down and reached out to the girl to check if she was hurt, before pulling back, “Are you—I mean, did I—I tripped—y’know—I—I—are you okay?”
The girl giggled a bit, “Yeah, I’m fine. You just got the sleeping bag.”
“Oh thank dog! I—I mean God!” Peter stammered. He couldn’t really be screwing up this badly, right? Years of horrible practice in high school and he couldn’t even talk to an incredibly gorgeous, nerdy-looking girl?
“What, uh, what are you--?” Peter began.
“Oh,” the blonde looked down at her arrangements as if she was just aware they were there, “This? I—I couldn’t sleep in my dorm tonight. My roommate was there with a guy, doing…things.”
Peter perked up, smiling, “Really? I was doing the same thing! As you, I mean. I—well, my roommate was with a girl and I decided to come down here to sleep.”
“No way!” The girl said. Peter nodded. “You’re kidding?” Peter nodded again, before hurriedly shaking his head.
“I’m, er, serious.”
“Wow,” the girl smiled a full toothy smile, causing Peter’s heart to flutter. Jeez, he was weak. “Welcome to college, huh?”
“Yeah…” Peter nodded, grinning. Welcome to college indeed.
“Well, I’m Gwen Stacy,” the blonde held out her hand. Peter took it shakily.
“Peter. Is me. Uh, Peter Parker. Peter Benjamin Parker…not that you need to know that…I mean my middle name, not…” the brunet sighed and rubbed the back of his head embarrassedly, “I’m just too awkward, aren’t I?”
Gwen laughed, “No, you’re fine. You’re probably just tired is all.”
“I wish that were true,” Peter said.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Gwen said, “It’s, like, one in the morning. Nothing good happens after one.”
“It’s two actually…”
“What?”
Peter blushed, “The saying from How I Met Your Mother? It’s nothing good happens after two. I—wow…you may not even…”
“You watch How I Met Your Mother?” Gwen asked.
“Yeah.”
“No!”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s my favorite show!” Gwen said.
Peter grinned, “Mine too.”
The blonde smiled widely. “Sit down, Peter Benjamin Parker,” Gwen patted the floor in front of her. Peter did just that.
“So, what’d you think of the finale?” Gwen asked.
“I hated it. It felt like the whole show was a waste, all the character development just thrown right out the window,” Peter admitted.
“Right? Not to mention it’s, like, the saddest thing since The Fault in Our Stars. It’s just so frustrating…”
----
“And, yeah, my dad’s at work basically all the time because of it. Not that it matters now, I guess,” Gwen finished sullenly, “I’m in college after all. What does it matter if he’s home or not? I’m not gonna see him.”
The two teens had spent hours just talking, sitting across from each other. In that time, the two had gotten to know each other quiet well. Gwen was a freshman like Peter, and her story was certainly a sad one. Her mother had left her and her father while Gwen was in high school, leaving the Detective George Stacy to take care of his teenaged brainiac daughter alone. Of course, that came after years of hearing her parents fight when they thought she was sleeping. Every night, sobbing through the screams of rage and discontent. Peter had never had to deal with that. His Aunt and Uncle had always been close. He’d never even heard them have a serious fight.
“Well, I think it matters,” Peter admitted, “I mean, every day having to wonder if he’s going to come home alive, and, well, you’re not even home to find out. I get it.”
“Yeah?” Gwen said. Peter nodded reassuringly with a smile. The blonde smiled back, before looking away and blushing, “God, I can’t believe I just dumped all that onto you. I just met you, and—and you’ve got your own problems, and—“
“Gwen,” Peter remained calm for the first time all night. Take her hand. Take her hand, you idiot! But Peter couldn’t bring himself to do it. “It’s fine. I’m…I’m really happy to get to know you. You seem like a great person…well, as great a person can be having spent six hours talking in the middle of the night.”
“Six hours?” Gwen’s head jerked up, “It’s…” She grabbed her lime green-cased IPhone from beside her and looked at the time. “Oh God! It’s past 7! I’ve gotta go!”
Gwen scrambled up and threw her stuff together, stuffing her sleeping bad into a large knapsack. “I’m so sorry! I just…I have this internship at Oscorp, and…well, I have to go!”
“Oscorp?” Peter muttered, “I know Harry Osborn…and his dad, actually.”
Gwen paused, “You know Norman Osborn?”
“Yeah, I…”
“Shit!” Gwen cursed, looking at her phone again, “I’m sorry! I just got a text from my boss! I’ve really got to go now! There’s this presentation today, and I have to set up, and…” Gwen looked at Peter one last time, “I had a great time! I’m sorry I have to leave so suddenly! Bye!” The girl ran off, leaving Peter to hopelessly watch her as she left.
“Bye!” The brunet interjected, before grumbling, “…bye.”
Peter mentally smacked himself. He didn’t even get her phone number. The teen collapsed back onto the ground, lying on his back. He smiled. Well…wow.
Gwen Stacy, huh?
----
Mark awoke with a shudder. Cold metal bars strapped his arms and legs against a table. He couldn’t move. Oh God…Ohgodohgodohgod!
A short man in a green beast-like mask stepped into Mark’s vision, a syringe in hand. The needle was filled with a bright orange liquid. Mark’s eyes widened.
“Ah, Mr. Raxton,” the masked man said, “You awaken right as the experiment begins. How…amusing.”
Mark tried to talk, but found he couldn’t. He had been gagged.
“Please try to relax. It’ll make this so much easier,” the man leaned forward. Mark tried to cry out, tears leaking down the side of his face. The firm pain of a needle entering his arm made Mark’s world turn upside down. And then literally this time, Mark’s world seemed to turn upside down as the liquid was injected into his body, bright colors flashing before his eyes.
And then, all at once, his body burned like it was on fire. Mark cried out, and he realized that he could in fact speak. A thick, mute taste burned in his mouth. With a cough, Mark realized it was the leather that had been used to gag him. It had melted and sunk down into his throat.
Mark continued to cry out, shaking. Soon enough, his arms and legs were freed, his restraints melted at his sides. Mark sat up, the bright colors still evident in his vision. Three thugs ran towards him as the masked scientist scrambled out of the room. No! He wouldn’t get away!
Mark stood up and roared like a beast. The thugs backed up. One collapsed to the ground, screaming, his clothing caught on fire. The others ran off, shouting for help.
What had they done to him? Mark looked down at his hands. They were glowing red hot. Heat radiated off his body. What the hell was he??
“RRAAHHH!” Mark shouted, fire erupting from his hands. The teen grinned as he discovered his newfound ability. He raised his hand, and fired, burning a hole in a wall.
He needed to get out of here. He needed to escape. Without another thought, Mark ran off.
----
The cell door slammed open, causing Blackie Drago to jerk awake. In the open doorway stood a cop, hand on his firearm to keep any other inmate from running, and a short, pudgy, bowl-cutted brown-haired man. The brunet was in his late-thirties, and was dressed in a green button up, white labcoat, and large, rectangular glasses. He looked disappointedly at Blackie.
“It’s your lucky day, Drago,” the cop said, “You get to walk free.”
“What?” a bald prisoner on Blackie’s right exclaimed irritably, “Why’s Blackie getta go and we don’t?”
The younger man shrugged, “Prob’ly just ‘cause I’m prettier, Rags.”
“You ain’t prettier than a snail, Blackie,” the prisoner known as Rags retorted.
“Tell that to your girl,” Blackie said, not missing a beat.
“You son of a—“
But Blackie was already out of the cell, the door closed behind him. The young latino criminal followed the pudgy man away, smirking, “Funny thing is I did screw his bae.”
“That’s it, Raniero!” the pudgy man spun around, stopping Blackie as they neared the exit.
“’s Blackie.”
The brunet sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep calm, “Blackie, fine. I am tired of this behavior, Blackie. Do you know what sort of strings I had to pull to get you out of here?”
The pudgy man, Otto Octavius, quieted himself, leading Blackie forward again and out of the prison. “Norman Osborn is not a forgiving man.”
“Whatever,” Blackie grumbled, annoyed, “You didn’t have to do anything.”
“Yes, I did!” Otto said, walking towards his car, a nice Toyota Prius, “Marie told me to watch after you. I—“
“So what? If my sis hadn’t gone an’ died—“
“You can’t really mean that,” Otto interrupted, unlocking his car. Both men got in. Blackie frowned and took a deep breath.
“No, I don’t. I just…” Blackie looked out the window, “I miss her.”
Otto nodded, “Me too…but you have to understand, especially because of the way Marie died, I can’t just let you…”
“I don’t kill anybody, I swear,” Blackie paused, before continuing matter-of-factly, “’Cept maybe Spider-Man. I did try to kill him.”
Otto sighed, “Blackie, you need to stop with…with everything! All the crime...”
“It’s not that easy—“
“Yes, it is! Because I’m providing you the opportunity to change it all,” Otto said, “You stole from Norman Osborn—my boss! But you better thank God for me because Norman needs me more than anyone, especially after Curt Connors went and made a mockery of Oscorp.”
“You mean he turned himself into a freak Lizard monster and started attacking people,” Blackie put it into Laymen’s terms.
“Right. That,” Otto admitted, “Given that, Norman needs me more than ever. I am the head of all RnD at Oscorp. I produce the inventions that will renew the public’s faith in Mr. Osborn and his company. Because of that, and because of a promise I made Mr. Osborn, he allowed you to be freed from jail.”
“…what promise?” Blackie had a bad feeling he knew where this was going.
“I told him you’d come work for Oscorp as an assistant to me. We could always use someone with as brilliant a mind and as wonderful a gift with machines as you,” Otto said.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No!”
“Yes,” Otto pushed, “Otherwise, and I promised Mr. Osborn this, you go right back to that cell with…what was it? Rags?”
“But—“
“Raniero…”
“Blackie!”
“Blackie,” Otto said, “You’re going to accept this job, and you are going to thrive at Oscorp.”
“I…” Blackie bent over, resting his head against the flat of the car with a bump, “Fine. But only if there’s some crazy hot chick there.”
“Whatever you say, Blackie…” Otto chuckled.
“I’m serious!”
----
Peter awoke as his phone vibrated in his pocket. The eighteen-year-old rubbed his eyes before checking his phone. 9:03. Less than two hours of sleep. Yay. And the call…Liz Allan? Peter answered.
“Hello?”
“Oh my God, Peter!” Liz sobbed on the other side of the line, “Thank God! Peter, I—I talked to Flash. He said you saw Mark. He said you…”
“Whoa, Liz, slow down,” Peter said, massaging his forehead, “Start again.”
“Flash…he said you met Mark. You…you don’t know where he is, do you?” Liz asked, barely holding back tears.
“I…no. I just met him. I—“
“I know! I know; I know. I just—“
“Liz, talk to me. What happened?” Peter stood up and began to throw his things together. This couldn’t be good.
“Mark…he…he didn’t show up at his dorm last night. His roommate called, and—and I talked to him yesterday on the phone. He said he had things to take care of, and…oh God, Peter! He might be dead!” Liz sobbed.
“Whoa, there. That’s jumping to some serious conclusions, Liz. Do you—“
“He has a gambling problem! I—oh God, Peter! I don’t know who else to go to! Flash is leaving tomorrow, and—and—and—“
“Where are you?”
“I’m in California, getting ready for school to start. I just…Mark was always so good to me, and he—he got into some stuff with the wrong people. He could—oh God!”
“Liz, relax,” Peter said, “I’ll find him. It’ll be fine; you’ll see.”
“Thank you, Peter! God bless you…”
“Just…just keep yourself together. It’s probably nothing. Do you know anywhere Mark might go? An address?” Peter asked.
Liz took a few deep breaths, “Vinny's. It’s under the radar…I…I don’t know an address. It’s by that pizza place on 14th.”
“I’ll Google it. Don’t worry about it,” Peter said, “Bye, Liz. I’ll check in with you later, ‘kay?”
“OK. Th—thank you, Peter. You…”
“It’s fine, Liz,” Peter sighed, “Don’t worry about it. Talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
Peter hung up. The brunet took a deep breath.
It was hero time.
----
Spider-Man swung through Manhattan, on his way to Vinny's Bar and Grill. If Liz was right, Vinny's was home to an illegal underground gambling ring. Smalltime, sure, but still serious business, especially if Mark was involved.
The webbed wonder had a fairly simple plan. He’d arrive, and play bad cop with the thug who owned the place until he told him where Mark was, or at the very least the last time he’d seen him. Mark may very well have just gone to a football meeting, maybe ended up at a frat party, got drunk and stayed the night…but Peter had a feeling that wasn’t the case.
Of course, as Spider-Man neared Vinny's, just about three miles away, a car exploded, drawing his attention. Gas leak? Oh no…it was much worse.
A fiery freak had blown the vehicle to hell, and was now tramping along the streets, sending civilians into a panic. A cop car pulled up. The fire guy ran the other way. Blowing up cars and running from the cops? Definitely not a good guy.
Great. This was just what Spidey needed. Another a-hole to deal with.
Spider-Man flipped and landed in front of the human flamethrower, cutting him off from his escape.
“You are one hot mess, aren’t ya?” Spidey said. The fiery freak was not amused by his joke. He unleashed a molten hot blast of heat at Spider-Man. The hero dived away.
“Get away from me!” the Molten Man shouted.
“No can do!” Spider-Man replied, “Blowing stuff up tends to get you on my naughty list…” The teen hero webbed up a sewer lid and tossed it at the villain. “And I’m a heck of a lot meaner than Santa!”
The lid knocked the Molten Man back, but didn’t do much more than phase him. He reached down and picked the lid up, melting it with his touch, and then threw it back at Spider-Man. The hero’s lenses widened in fear.
“Yowzers!” Spider-Man flipped over the projectile, “Playing catch with you is no fun!”
“Both of you superfreaks, put your hands behind your head!”
There were three cops now, all aiming at the brawling superhumans.
“Um, not helping!” Spider-Man cried out, “You’re gonna get…” Molten Man unleashed a torrent of fire at the officers, “Burned.”
Spider-Man reacted instinctively, snagging the three cops’ ankles with his webs and tripping them, allowing them to narrowly miss the fire blast.
“Stop attacking me!” Molten Man paused to think before continuing, “You…all of you…they sent you after me to bring me back!”
“What? Who?” Spider-Man said, “Wow, you’re totally bonkers, aren’t you?”
“Shut up! I won’t go back there!” Molten Man fired at Spider-Man. The hero leaped behind a car. Bad idea. The villain followed him, raining fiery hell onto the vehicle. “Oh sh—“
The car exploded, sending Spider-Man through a window into a shoe shop. It was a struggle, but he managed to stand up. The shop’s owner was cowering behind the register.
“Not even a ‘hi, how can I help you?’” Spider-Man weakly tried, before stepping back into battle.
By now, three more NYPD cars had pulled up. This was getting bad.
“Stay back!” Spider-Man ordered, but the cops still got out of their cars and aimed at the superhumans, “I said—“
Spider sense! The webbed wonder dived to the side, barely dodging a cascade of fire.
“You know what?” Spider-Man turned towards his adversary, “I’m coming to you.”
Except the Molten Man actually came to him, charging with a guttural roar. Suddenly, now taking the opportunity to look closely, Spider-Man realized he knew the freak. It was Mark Raxton.
His raging spider sense threw Spider-Man back into reality. He flipped over the mutated football player, but immediately turned back around.
“Mark?”
“I won’t go back!” Mark shouted.
“Mark Raxton?”
“YOU CAN’T HAVE ME!” Mark unleashed his biggest blast of fire yet. Spider-Man dived away, but his jacket still caught fire.
“Crap! These things don’t grow on trees, you know?” Spidey shouted as he stopped, dropped and rolled, putting out the fire.
“Leave me alone!” Mark said, running away. Cops yelled after him. Spider-Man turned to the police officers before they could fire.
“Stop! Don’t shoot!”
“Spider-Man, you—“
“Just don’t—“
BLAM!
Spider-Man narrowly dodged the bullet, flipping onto a wall. He turned to look back for Mark, but the teen was gone. Damn it! …And there was his spider sense! The webbed wonder swung away from the fire of New York’s Finest, grabbing his camera on the way. He’d snagged pictures during the fight, his usual routine for any superheroic activity.
Spider-Man landed on a roof, a block or so away from where the fight had taken place, and sat down. Mark was gone. Cops were shooting him. He couldn’t deal with this now. He needed a break. He needed to think about this a bit more, and come up with a plan for ow to deal with Mark. ‘Course that led to a few important questions. Was he a mutant, or—as Spider-Man wondered—had someone changed him into that…that Molten Man? He leaned towards the latter. People don’t just randomly start shooting fire and going crazy. Well, usually.
And then of course there was work. The Daily Bugle. He had to turn in new pictures by noon today or else JJJ was going to fire him. Well, he did need a break…
But it wouldn’t be for long. He’d go to the Bugle, turn in the pix, and regroup. Then, he would go after Mark. He’d march all the way over to Vinny's if he had to and interrogate the owner. Or, as Spider-Man figured, Mark would show himself, probably rather explosively. He couldn’t hide for long, no matter how much he wanted to.
And when he did show his face, Peter would be right there to stop him and in the end, hopefully, help him.
NEXT TIME: J. Jonah Jameson! Need I say more?