Post by Drake on Oct 13, 2013 22:41:17 GMT -5
All Star Spider-Man #6
Darkest Nights Part 1: The Only Constant
Darkest Nights Part 1: The Only Constant
3 Months Later
It was an ordinary day in Manhattan. And by ‘ordinary’ I mean the usual explosive superhuman battles took place, disrupting any and every ordinary citizen’s daily life. One battle in particular occurred on that fine Saturday morning. One battle in particular drew the attention of every man, woman and child in the immediate dozen block radius.
Spider-Man was caught in combat with the newly minted supervillain the Shocker, who exchanged blows with the webbed wonder, occasionally blasting away a car or mailbox with his concussive force blasts.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Blasto-Man! Slow down! You might hurt somebody with those things!” Spider-Man quipped as he leaped over yet another force blast. It was nice, this new trend of superheroing. Peter had come to trust Miles, and wasn’t even at the helm 50% of the time, leaving just him, his fantastic attitude, and the villain alone.
“It’s ‘Shocker!’” The villain growled as he attempted to lock on to the acrobatic hero.
“Yeah, the only shocker here is how bad a supervillain you are!” Spider-Man landed nimbly on a wall, “I mean, you’re like my ninth! By this point, I’m a pro; I’ve seen it all. I mean, I fought with the Avengers! Beat Krazy Kang and his Kooky Kompany! Copyright!”
Shocker locked on, unleashing a torrential blast of concussive energy, but it was too little, too late. Spider-Man’s spider sense alerted him to the incoming attack. He leaped effortlessly over Shocker’s head.
“Oh yeah, bug brain, cause you’re such an expert! It’s not like your five under that mask of yours or anything,” Shocker sarcastically growled.
“Sarcasm? That’s original!” Spider-Man retorted, landing on the ground in front of Shocker, “And…”
“That’s strike three!” Spider-Man punched Shocker in the jaw, “Or is it five? I’m not great with numbers.” The follow up was a quick double-handed punch downwards, immediately knocking out the villain.
As if on cue, two police officers pulled up right then as the battle ended. Both immediately got out of the car and drew their sidearms. The first shouted, “Hands over your head!”
“Hold the applause. Seriously,” Spider-Man quipped, “It’s not like I just saved the day. Again. Or fought with the freaking Avengers! Ya mighta heard of them.”
“Shut up and put your hands in the air!” The first commanded, his trigger finger shaking.
Spider-Man sighed, and put his hands into the air, “Look at the magic trick, kiddos.” With that final word, he disappeared. Both of the cops were too shocked to respond.
In just another second, Spider-Man reappeared a dozen yards away, swinging. He yelled back, “Fun chat, guys! Catch ya later!”
…
It wasn’t long before Miles found himself back in his room, changing back into his civvies. Naturally, he’d inherited Peter’s luck, and it just so happened to be this time that his father knocked on his door.
“Yo, Miles! I need to come in!” Jefferson said.
“Whoa! Kinda sudden, Dad! Give me a sec,” Miles rushed to pull off the suit. It just wouldn’t come off. He struggled and pulled, but the unstable molecules in the suit made it impossible to even rip his way out.
“Listen, son, if you’re…working it, it’s fine. Just cover up. I have to talk to you about something, and that something needs talking about now,” Jefferson explained sternly.
“Dad, I’m not…whatever-ing!” Miles shouted, still struggling.
“I’m coming in!”
“Dad!”
Miles’ door opened up. His Dad peeked in. Miles lay uncomfortably under his covers, hiding his body.
“Listen, son, it’s fine that you ma-“
“Dad!” Miles protested again.
Jefferson sighed and sat down at Miles’ bedside, “Anyway, Miles, we need to talk.”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” Miles retorted, snuggling further under the covers.
“Don’t back talk me,” Jefferson scolded.
“Yes, sir,” Miles mindlessly replied.
“Listen, Miles…your mom and I, we’ve noticed you’ve been more…well, out of it recently. You’re coming home all bruised up, your grades are dropping, you practically never hang out with Ganke or Tommy anymore…” There were reasons for that. Tommy being…Tommy was one.
“And you never help out around the house,” Jefferson finished, “That’s got to stop. You know your mother…she has another job now on the weekends. That means it’s up to us to take care of the house. That means it’s up to you. And that means whatever’s going on has to…” Jefferson eyes Miles suspiciously, catching sight of the smallest hint of a web pattern. He suddenly pulled the cover out from Miles, only to expose Miles in uniform (it pulled down to his waist) and his mask.
“Oh no…no, this is much worse than…” Jefferson’s expression dropped. His demeanor darkened. Miles knew what was coming.
“Miles, you know how I feel about…”
He never had the chance to finish his sentence. Miles immediately sat up and shouted back, “Shut up, okay! I get it! You’re a freaking superhero-ist asshole without a clue!”
“MILES!” Jefferson stood up aggressively.
“JEFFERSON!” Miles yelled back.
“Was it the spider bite? Did that do it?” Jefferson inquired.
“What the hell? Why would…”
“I read up about Spider-Man. He got his powers from a spider bite,” Jefferson argued. He’d known the answer before he’d asked.
“How the hell does everybody but me know that?!” Miles exclaimed to himself.
“Does…does Dr. Parker know about this?” Jefferson pushed. Miles couldn’t look his father in the eyes.
“No, he…”
“He does! My God, he’s part of this, isn’t he…? Son of a bitch!” Jefferson threw his hands into the air.
“Dad, just shut the…” Miles was quickly silenced by his father.
“You will NOT…!” Jefferson’s expression weakened. He sat back down and looked at his feet. Miles had never seen his Dad look so…disappointed, defeated. He didn’t know how to reply.
“You don’t understand, Miles.” Jefferson sighed, still staring off into space, “This isn’t just about…it’s not…”
At last, Jefferson looked up and met Miles’ gaze, “I’ve never told you why I hate superhumans, have I?”
“No,” Miles admitted.
“That’s my fault,” Jefferson replied, “You need to know why…why what you’re doing is a mistake.” Jefferson paused for whispering to himself, quite audibly, “I can’t believe my son is Spider-Man!”
“Dad…” Miles warned. He was about to burst again. Whatever was happening with his Dad, it was a breakthrough. Never had he seemed so open. Now was his chance to find out more about his father, not to get scolded about something he did right.
“Sorry…I just…it’s tough. You understand that.” Jefferson took a deep breath before beginning.
“I had a friend back when I was a kid,” Miles had to force himself from retorting with ‘that’s a surprise.’ His dad continued, “His name was Demaryus. Demaryus Rose. We’d known each other since the day we were born. In fact, we had the same birthdays.” Jefferson smiled slightly, thinking back, “We’d share birthday parties. Everyone loved it. Even Demaryus’ brother…Carl.”
“When Demaryus was just twelve, his Dad left him. That left Carl to be the head of the family. One day…a job presented itself. Carl took it. He became one of the very first superhumans. The cops’ very own Spider-Man or Captain America; his codename was Officer Stripes. His…glory days lasted about a month before everything went wrong.”
“Carl and the organization that supplied him with powers had made enemies over the years, especially inside the Mob. One day, they decided enough was enough. The Mob killed everyone in the organization and about a dozen police officers, but they didn’t stop there. They beat and kidnapped Carl. And after they were done finding out who he was…” Jefferson’s expression darkened, “they raided his house. I remember that day. I had been in the house playing with Demaryus. We were only thirteen.”
“Demaryus’ mom didn’t last the first thirty seconds. We knew the sound of gunfire when we heard it. Demaryus and I ran to his closet. It didn’t take long for them to find us. We were scared…it was the most terrifying experience. We were so close to death. A couple of the mobsters held us hostage. They forced Carl to choose…himself or us. And in that second, that great, brave superhero couldn’t choose. He couldn’t save his own God damn little brother!” Tears came to Jefferson’s eyes. He choked back sobs. Miles’ jaw had practically hit the floor. He’d never known…
“They killed Demaryus. Bullet to the head. I was supposed to be next, but…but a neighbor, James Thomson, came in with a shotgun and blew out the brains of the first mobster. The second did have a chance to respond. The third, however…he was tough. James barely got him. After that…I-I don’t remember much. The funeral was a blur…I…” Jefferson paused to take a deep breath. He could do this. He could finish the story.
“I never saw Carl again. And…and now you know. It’s not that I don’t want you to be a…superhero because I hate superhumans. I don’t want you to be one of them because it endangers you and your mom. Not me. Not God damn me. No, I should’ve died all those years ago. I’m scared for you and your mom.” Jefferson rested his head in his hands. Miles couldn’t even bring himself to look at his father. It was…heartbreaking. But still…it was his father who didn’t understand. Miles knew the risks he was taking, but the possibility of saving a dozen people, even if you lost…yourself was too great to miss. It was worth it.
“I can’t quit, Dad. I have to do this. With great power comes great responsibility. I can’t let what happened to uncle Aaron happen to anyone else,” Miles said, already standing up.
“Miles…” Jefferson pleaded, looking up. His eyes were red and thick with tears.
“Sorry,” Miles threw back on the costume and grabbed his mask. He walked towards his window.
“Miles, stop!” Jefferson commanded. Miles didn’t listen. He opened up the window.
“MILES, DAMNIT!” Jefferson stood up and ran to his son. Too little, too late. Miles was already out the window, swinging off into who-knows-what.
Jefferson sighed. He closed the window and sat back down on Miles’ bed. “He just needs time to cool off, right…? He…he understands. He does. Oh God, Miles…”
“I’m sorry.”
…
“Damn it! Damn you! Damn the whole world!” Miles cursed as he swung above Manhattan, “Why does nobody…”
And that’s when his day turned upside down. The sky rained fire and glass as the top three stories of ParkerTower exploded. Two words. That was all Miles managed.
“Oh no.”
And he was off, moving with the proportional speed of a spider. Faster, faster he swung, until he managed to land just a few floors below the explosion. Spider-Man crawled up the wall quickly, flipping onto his feet once he reached the epicenter of the danger.
“Hey, is anyone in here?” Spider-Man yelled. No answer. He took one last breath of fresh air before running into the fire. The gas ate up his insides as he struggled to breathe. That was something he didn’t have in his suit: an air filtration system. He’d talk to Peter about it later…if Peter was even alive.
“Help! HELP ME!”
Spider-Man was drawn to the voice. He jumped over a fiery wooden beam. There he found a man, middle aged, struggling to lift a piece of debris from atop an unconscious woman.
“I…I can’t,” The man coughed. Spider-Man knew he didn’t have time to respond. Instead, he acted. He grabbed hold of the chunk of debris and pulled. It wouldn’t come; the thing was heavy. Really damn heavy.
“RRRAAAHHH!!!” Spider-Man roared, pulling with all his might. He managed to lift the debris off the ground and throw it to the side. He picked up the woman, who was beaten and bloodied, and turned to the middle aged man.
“Hold on to me,” he ordered. The man didn’t argue, instead doing what he was told. With the woman slung over his shoulder, and the man grappling onto him fiercely, Spider-Man ran out to the edge of the building.
“Whatever you do, don’t let go,” Spider-Man warned. The man nodded.
The webbed hero jumped, immediately shooting a web line onto a building across the street. However, on his way down, the man lost his grip and tumbled into the air.
“Damn it!” Spider-Man cursed. He let go of the web line and dived down after the man. Luckily, he managed to reach him and catch him before, and before they hit the ground he fired another line, swinging just above the ground. Another line later, and the hero had managed to land safely on top a building a block away from the explosion. The man let go. Spider-Man gently set the woman down.
“Gotta go!” Spider-Man managed, before swinging off back to the building.
There was a pause, before the man behind him cheered, “Go, Spider-Man!” That was nice. Something positive for once. Not yet another cheap spandex joke.
The second time around, Spider-Man acted much more quickly, finding an injured man and swinging him to the safety, but the third time was…different. Upon entering the desolated remains of what was once three floors, Spider-Man caught sight of a moving object, or person rather. And he or she was moving fast. The person was holding onto someone…small, and when they reached the edge of the building, the person jumped. That’s when Spider-Man first could make out any details. It was definitely a he, and he was wearing spandex and…was that a mask? Before Spider-Man could yell out for him, the man fired what seemed to be a web line and swung off into the distance.
Another hero…but who? There was only one person Miles knew who could move like that.
“Peter…”
“Yes!”
Spider-Man swung around, only to come face to face with Doctor Peter Parker, ParkerCorp’s very own CEO and past-Spider-Man.
“What? But…”
“No time for talk,” Peter ordered, motioning to the woman he had slung over his shoulder, “Get me out of here.”
“Yes, sir,” Spider-Man managed, before leading Peter to the edge of the building.
“Hold on,” Spider-Man warned.
“I’ve done this before.” Miles had never heard such snark from Peter during all the time he’d known him.
Peter grabbed hold of Miles, and the webbed wonder swung off onto a roof just across the street. Peter immediately let go and set the woman on the ground. He turned to Miles, “Get going.”
“We…need to talk about this,” Spider-Man replied, already turning back to the building.
“Afterwards…no, go do what you’re meant to. Be Spider-Man. Save lives,” Peter ordered.
Spider-Man only took second to check his web cartridges. He was almost out. Damn it, he hadn’t brought any others with him. It would have to wait. Spider-Man swung off back to the building. By this point, ambulances and helicopters hovered around. Someone in one of the helicopters yelled through a bullhorn, “Spider-Man, step away from the emergency or we will be forced to arrest you.”
Miles didn’t give them the pleasure of a response, instead running straight through fire and into danger. Almost immediately he heard the scream. A child’s scream.
Spider-Man followed the voice, until he discovered two people. The first, the child crying out in fear, and the second, a woman. The way she caressed and tried to calm the boy made it safe to assume she was the boy’s mother. But there was something wrong, and it was all to obvious what it was. Strapped to the woman’s chest was a bomb, the timer slowly clicking down. It was at twenty.
The woman immediately looked up and met Spider-Man’s masked gaze. Fear fell down her face alongside the tears.
“Save him,” she pleaded. Clock was at 17. What to do? What to do?!
“Mo-Mom, I don’t wanna leave you!” the boy cried. 13. Shit! Miles didn’t know how to defuse a bomb. Clock struck 10.
“Take him, please!” The woman screamed, pushing her son away towards Spider-Man. 8 seconds. Miles had only one choice to make. He grabbed the child and ran back towards the sides of the building. The boy wouldn’t stop crying. He beat Spider-Man’s chest. It didn’t matter. He had to get the kid out alive.
Spider-Man leapt out the side of the building. They were too high up for a webline to reach any buildings. The teenaged hero had only one option. He fired a web line onto the side of ParkerTower. And then the entire floor above them blew up. Unluckily, the webline had latched on to the ceiling of the floor they’d jumped from. It immediately burned to a crisp.
Spider-Man began to plummet to the ground, the child now quiet, his mind completely encapsulated by fear. The webbed wonder instinctively fired another web line. Nothing came out. He was empty.
There was no time to curse or complain. Spider-Man had to act now.
“Hold on, yeah?” Spider-Man didn’t give the kid a chance respond. He let go of the child, freeing his other arm. However, the kid didn’t listen. He lost his grip and fell out of Miles’ arms. The child fell more slowly than Miles, who plummeted quickly towards the ground. The web slinging hero spread his arms and legs to slow himself down, evening back out with the child. He grabbed ahold of the kid with his webless arm.
By this point, it was going to be close. The two were falling too quickly. Spider-Man fired a web line. It attached to the roof of a building. They kept falling, not yet slowing down. Damn it, they were about to hit a car!
Suddenly, the web line jerked to a halt. Spider-Man screamed as pain roared through his arm. He slammed onto the top of a Prius. Blinding pain nearly caused Spider-Man to black out, but through sheet force of will he stayed awake. He was alive. The kid wasn’t hurt. It had all worked out. Mostly.
The kid sobbed into the shoulder of Spider-Man’s costume. His mother was gone. There was no bringing her back.
Spider-Man put his arm around the kid’s neck. He tried to soothe him, “Hey, hey, it’s alright. I…I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”
“Spider-Man, let the child go and put your hand behind your head!”
What the hell?
Spider-Man forced his head to the side. Half a dozen cops were aiming down their side arms at him. What was this? He’d just saved a kid’s life!
Spider-Man sat up and set the kid on the ground. He nudged him away. The child wouldn’t let go. He clung to Spider-Man’s side. The hero sighed and turned back to the problem at hand, hands in the air.
“Yo, guys, mind explaining what this-“
“Shut up!” One of the officers roared, approaching the hero, gun still at the ready, “Spider-Man, you are under arrest for perpetrating an act of terrorism! I will now read you your rights…”
“Whoa, you think I did that?” Spider-Man asked, pointing to the burning building behind him, “I’m a hero, guys. There’s no reason, no proof for…”
“We have the footage,” the same cop continued to talk, “We know you did it. Come with us quietly and no one has to get hurt.”
This couldn’t be right…. “What footage?” Spider-Man demanded. “I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m going to count down to three before we open fire,” the officer started.
Spider-Man pushed the kid away from him, “Go, now.”
“One.”
“%^&* all of you!” Spider-Man shouted, going full camouflage. He reached into the sky and fired a web line, as the cops around him yelled in surprise. Pain flowed through his arm. He ignored it, beginning to swing away. That’s when the bullet hit him square in the shoulder.
“AH!” The webbed wonder screamed, falling out of the sky a dozen or so yards away from where’d just stood in front of the cops. One of the police officers, the same one who’d spoken, stared daggers at the injured hero. He’d…he’d shot him!
Spider-sense! Miles leaped over three more bullets, instinctively firing a web line as he did so. This time, he made it out of range.
But his bad luck didn’t end there. Halfway to his house, he ran out of webbing. The hero fell helplessly to the ground amidst a crowd. He forced himself off of them, as they cursed at him, calling him names. One person even tried to pull his mask off. He just shoved them away.
Spider-Man stumbled down the street. He needed help. Seriously.
Spider-Man tried calling Peter twice. Both times, Peter’s phone went to voicemail. Eventually, he made his way to his street. About a block away from his house, Miles stripped out of his costume and threw the bloody suit into a dumpster. Just a hundred more yards. He could take it. His superpowers weren’t for nothing.
At last, in only a pair of boxers and with a final cry of success, Miles managed to crawl his way through his unlocked window and into the house.
Wait, that couldn’t be right. His dad always locked the window. Jefferson locked damn near everything, always afraid of some intruder entering the house. This…this wasn’t right.
“Dad…” Miles weakly called out. No answer. But his Dad was home. His car was parked out front.
Miles trudged out of his room, pushing the door open with his uninjured shoulder. He gripped his bleeding wound tightly as he limped towards his parents’ room.
“Dad!” Miles yelled this time, panic beginning to settle in. Something was very wrong.
Miles pushed the door to his parents’ room open, and what he found there made his pain the very last thing on his mind.
Laying in a pool of blood atop the ground was Miles' father. His very dead father.
And then, with one final gasp for air, Miles fainted.