Post by Drake on Mar 15, 2015 14:29:52 GMT -5
#8: Family Matters Part 1
In Memoriam
By Drake
3 Months Later
Peter Parker typed furiously at his desk on the top floor of Daily Bugle Communications’ headquarters. The computer screen flashed as html coding lit up like a Christmas tree. A figure formed within the code. A Cheshire cat of letters and numbers meowed teasingly at Peter, causing the young man to slam his hands down onto his desk in defeat.
“Any luck, handsome?” Felicia Hardy leaned over the cubicle barrier separating their workspaces, her see through black blouse not even remotely appropriate for work. Just behind her, a nervous young intern held her coffee and a bowl of fruit, all too eager to please.
Peter ran his hands through his already disheveled hair and looked up at Felicia, his gaze only falling below her neckline for half a second. Even that was enough for her to notice. Felicia grinned proudly as if she’d been given a Nobel Prize.
“No, with ‘luck’ being the opportune word here. It’s like the hacker used the one freaking system I can’t break through,” Peter grumbled.
“PARKER! Where is Parker??” J. Jonah Jameson’s voice came from his office. All eyes avoided Peter except for Felicia as the man-in-charge himself entered the room.
Peter sighed and raised his hand casually, “Right here, Mr. Jameson.”
“Parker!” Jameson stormed towards the Empire U undergrad, “Why in God’s name is our system still offline??”
“I can’t beat the hacker…” Peter mumbled.
“What was that??”
Before Peter could speak up, Robbie Robertson—nearly the young man’s only ally on site—entered the fray.
“Jonah, this is a professional we’re talking about,” Robbie began.
“Parker is not a professional!” Jameson retorted.
“I wasn’t talking about Peter,” Robbie paused and looked at Peter reassuringly, “No offense meant of course.”
Peter shrugged the comment off. Robbie continued.
“The hacker clearly knows what they’re doing. They’ve done it before, and, heck, I’m willing to bet they’ll do it again. This was a planned attack, Jonah—“
“Do I look like I care??” Jameson shouted, before turning to Peter, “Parker, you’ve got an hour. If you can’t….unhack, dehack,” JJJ struggled for the word, “get rid of this problem by then, you’re fired!”
With that final declaration, Jameson marched back to his office. Robbie gave Peter one last apologetic look and followed his boss away, trying to make him see reason. Peter, on the other hand, just gave Jameson the bird as he left the room. Felicia grinned, amused.
“Look at you, Mr. Techspert. You’ve got a little rebel in you,” Felicia strutted around her cubicle to Peter’s, seductively sliding her finger along the edges before ruffling Peter’s hair and whispering into his ear, “How’d you like to show me that spark again somewhere a little more private?”
Peter gulped. He had precisely two thoughts in his mind: one, he could not cheat on Gwen, and two, ‘it’s a trap!’
“I’m going to have to pass on that offer,” Peter managed. Now that the deed was done, the rest came easier. He took a deep breath and continued, “Listen, I’m flattered, Felicia, but I’ve got a girlfriend.”
After Felicia gave him a look that made Peter both uncomfortable and aroused, he threw in, “A serious, long term girlfriend.”
“Oh well, Peter.” Felicia shrugged her shoulders. The mood in the room instantly lightened as the beautiful blonde smiled innocently. “You can’t say I didn’t try.” The lovesick intern sighed in relief.
“Yeah, you…uh, definitely tried,” Peter agreed. He stood up and pressed the off button on his computer firmly. The screen went dark.
“Whatcha doin’? Jameson says he’ll fire you if you don’t—“
The computer screen lit up again as Peter pressed the power button, silencing Felicia.
“Just going off a hunch,” Peter explained as the blonde watched him closely.
After quickly logging in again, Peter grinned at the sight before him. His computer was clean. The bug was gone.
Peter looked up at the intern, smiling, “Tell the others to turn their computers off and on again. That should do the trick.”
The intern reluctantly agreed with a nod and went off to carry out Peter’s message, coffee and fruit still in hand.
Felicia smiled gently, “You solved the problem by rebooting the system.”
Peter threw on his pea coat and winked at her. “Looks like my luck is turning around.”
…
Peter waited patiently at a table within a packed restaurant. Giovanni’s sure knew how to draw the lunch crowd. Hopefully Gwen wouldn’t mind. He figured by this point just the fact that they were managing to fit in a date amidst their packed schedules was enough to excuse the lack of intimacy. Hell, maybe if the rest of the week turned out alright, they could finally really get intimate on Saturday…
“I am so sorry I’m late,” Gwen hurried over to the table after a waiter motioned her on. The young woman was dressed in a black skirt, green blouse and had just the right amount of makeup on. Peter thought he’d never seen a more beautiful girl in his life.
“It’s fine,” Peter stood up and quickly pulled out Gwen’s chair for her, before teasing, “I will admit I’m not used to being the one on time.”
“Thank you,” Gwen said as she sat down and Peter pushed her in, “Again, I’m so sorry. I was overloaded with work. Dr. Octavius wouldn’t let me leave.”
“How is Doc Ock?” Peter asked as he made his way back to his seat. He smiled after Gwen’s left eyebrow rose the same it always did whenever he piqued her nerves.
“Doctor Octavius,” Gwen grinned just a tad, “Is beyond happy. Blackie’s made him Osborn’s favorite. The work those two do…” Gwen paused, before glowingly adding, “It’s amazing.”
“And Spider-Man?” Peter wondered. He loved hearing her talk about him without even knowing it.
“Spider-Man is…he’s doing fine, I guess.” Gwen’s expression darkened. Peter’s followed it. “He…I don’t know. It was cool at first. I don’t really work with him, but just the idea of being involved with him in any way was awesome. Then…” The blonde shook her head, “I shouldn’t bother you about this.”
“What? No! It’s fine. Go on,” Peter pushed. What the hell was wrong?
“I’d really rather not,” Gwen said, “It’ll ruin the meal.”
“Seriously, Gwen—“
Before Peter could continue, the waiter arrived for the drink order. Saved by the bell, he mused. Now he would never get anything out of her.
After putting in their order for drinks, Gwen adding in that she needed to leave soon, and the two of them ordering their food, Peter tried another topic.
“How’s your Dad?” Peter asked.
“Detective George Stacy is great. Just great,” Gwen sarcastically muttered.
Nice going, Parker. You found another button to push.
“Don’t tell me your dad is Spider-Man.” Peter tried to recover and succeeded. Gwen laughed. “’Cause that’d be totally crazy. Y’see, my aunt’s actually Sue Storm.”
“Your Aunt May?” Gwen teased.
“Susan May Storm Reilly Parker,” Peter replied.
“That’s quite the name.”
“You’re gonna love my Uncle’s—“
As Gwen giggled, Peter froze. Oh no. No no no no. It wasn’t his spider sense. He hadn’t pissed off Gwen. No, it was much worse…
“Gwen, what day is it?” Peter blurted.
“Thursday. Why are you—“
“No, the date. What’s the date?” Peter continued.
“Oh, um,” Gwen looked down at her smart watch, “November 29th. Why?”
“Shit!” Peter cursed, running a hand through his hair. “Shit shit shit! Today’s the anniversary of my uncle’s death.”
“Ohmigod. Peter, I had no idea,” Gwen began.
“Neither did I! Christ, neither did I,” Peter said, “My aunt probably expects us to do something tonight. I haven’t gotten flowers or anything.”
“You have plenty of time. Don’t stress about this,” Gwen said. She put her hand on Peter’s.
The brunet pulled away, “No! No, I don’t. You don’t understand; I should be spending all day with my aunt. This…this is a big deal. I haven’t even seen her in two weeks. God, why didn’t she call me?” Peter stood up.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Gwen asked.
“No. Thank you. I just…I feel like I should do this alone. Thank you, seriously. I—I have to go,” Peter explained. He reached into his pocket and fished for money.
“I’ve got the bill.”
“No, I—“
Gwen gently touched Peter’s arm and he instantly relaxed. “Peter, go.”
In that moment, Peter knew he’d met the perfect girl. In that moment, he had to say what he’d been holding in since the day they’d met. In that moment, Peter had no fear.
“I—I lo—“ Then the anxiety hit, and Peter crumpled, “I should be going.”
“That’s what I said,” Gwen teased.
“You’re the best! Bye!” Peter grinned.
“Go!”
Peter turned and ran. The waiter who’d taken their order neared him with two glasses of water on a tray.
“Excuse me, sir, are you—“
Peter interrupted the waiter with one simple, playful movement. He grabbed one of the waters and continued running. As the waiter yelled after him, Peter swiveled around and winked at Gwen.
When he’d at last cleared the exit, chugged the water, and made sure he was out of sight, Peter mentally ordered his clothing to transform into his black suit and he swung away.
…
At the corner of the intersection between 44th and Crawford was a grocery store the likes of which people only dreamed could exist. The organic products it held not only surpassed all expectations, but the prices put Walmart to shame. For a middle class family, the store provided a link to finer goods. It was the cheap-yet-still-good organic food market that supermart lovers claim can’t exist. It’s the first of its kind and at the expense of its current debacle—potentially the last.
Superhuman robberies weren’t normal, not even in New York. Something akin to a coked out mutant believing your shop was colored wrong or a wannabe Human Torch with dreams of criminal grandeur could kill your business in a heartbeat. No one wanted to shop somewhere they felt was unsafe. In many ways, the lingering threat of super attacks could be the fastest growing fear among the human race. Forget jihadists and dictators; thugs like Boomerang were what created true fear in the hearts of everyday civilians.
Yes, that’s correct. Even a nervous wreck, ex-athlete with a heart of mud and a crazy knack for explosive boomerangs was a viable, real threat.
What a world to live in!
And, oh how it drove Peter Parker mad!
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Spider-Man swung through the entrance into the midst of a hold up at boomerang point. The villain himself was dressed in a blue costume with glazed silver patches and a lense shaped like his weapon of choice. A utility belt held what the young hero could only assume were more boomerangs—hopefully at least moderately threatening ones.
“Y’know, this is really horrible timing. I just want one time—ONE TIME—when I have something really important to do and no stupid, crazy pants asshole decides to rob a store in front of me,” Spider-Man said, before jokingly whispering, “At the very least, the F4 could deal with these idiots for once.”
“Spider-Man! Perfect!” The ‘ranged villain exclaimed, “If I kill you, then people will finally take me seriously! I can join HYDRA and—“
THWUMP!
Spider-Man shook his head in disgust while webbing clogged the villain’s mouth.
“Let me guess: your name’s Captain Boomerang?” Spider-Man teased.
“Mmm ngdds” was all he received in response.
Spidey crossed his arms, “How’s Boomy sound? I like Boomy. It’s as much of a joke as you are.”
This time, the villain threw a boomerang in response. Spider sense allowed the webbed wonder to see that one coming from a mile away. He stepped to the side, snagged the projectile with a web line and threw it back at Boomerang. The C-lister got blasted back into a shelf of organic Oreos after the weapon exploded with a burst of concussive force.
“I’ll give you something,” Spider-Man continued on lackadaisically as the hostages began to cheer him on, “That costume’s pretty slick, but seriously?? Was Academy out of bowling balls and baseball bats when you visited? I mean, Boomerangs? Really? And I thought The Ringer was bad.”
Boomerang struggled back into his feet. Once standing and in control again, he managed to cut off the webbing on his face with a sharpened boomerang.
Glaring at Spider-Man, Boomerang declared, “You’re dead, punk! You know what they say about what goes around?”
Spider sense! Three boomerangs that had been hidden in shelves around Spider-Man lit up and roared towards him with rocket jets. Still facing the villain, Spidey ducked backwards, allowing the boomerangs to soar over him and towards the blustering Boomerang. The villain in turn gasped in shock, his jaw dropping like a brick.
The boomerangs exploded into the blue-clad villain’s chest, sending him back nearly fifty yards and giving him the concussion of his life.
“You tell me, Boomy,” Spidey retorted.
Applause. How Spider-Man loved the applause!
After signing a few autographs, half-answering paparazzi type questions, and taking pictures with the unconscious Boomerang, the webbed wonder swung away and towards the hard part of his day. Still, the fame, the adoration!
Boy, it was good to be Spider-Man!
…
Sometimes Peter hated being Spider-Man…
“Not now, boss,” Peter muttered through the earpiece underneath his suit. Norman Osborn muttered something incoherently on the other side of the line. “I’ve really, really, really gotta be off the job right now.”
“I don’t need you to fight a costumed lunatic, Mr. Parker. I need you to check in at the base,” Osborn retorted.
“Right, because upgrading my webshooters again is more important than keeping my aunt from hating me more than she already does,” Peter said before mumbling, “And I thought my jokes were bad.”
“Enough with the rebellious, melodramatic, highschooler crap. You’re eighteen now; you’re an adult. Act like it,” Osborn ordered.
Before Peter could quip back in response, a ruffling sound echoed through the mic while a new, younger, cleaner, and generally happier voice took over.
“Pete, c’mon, man. This is important,” Blackie Drago pleaded.
“Maybe I’d act a little more dutiful if stormin’ Norman wouldn’t jump down my throat at the slightest provocation,” Peter said.
“Hey, I can’t argue with that, but consider the fact he’s got a board meeting in half an hour and the investors aren’t so pumped about the new OsWatch. Mr. Osborn wouldn’t be so irritable if he—“ Muttering on the other end of the line. Then, Blackie, “Sorry, but it’s true, Mr. Osborn. You two were getting nowhere.”
More muttering and Blackie continued, “Just come back to base, Pete. Boss’s orders.”
Peter sighed, “I better be getting a helluva Christmas bonus.”
…
“Please don’t tell me Beyoncé died. That’s what this is about, right? Beyoncé’s dead.”
Peter Parker—now back in his civvies—switched the weight between his two feet anxiously as he and Blackie glided up OsTower in an elevator. His colleague and friend merely massaged his head and let out a deep sigh of relief as the elevator pinged and the doors opened.
Blackie had long since cleaned himself up. His messy, greasy mop of black hair had been cut into an orderly business crop. He was clean-shaven and while he may have dressed casually by OsCorp’s standards with jeans and a T-shirt, his clothing did in fact fit him for once. The one thing that hadn’t changed was the seemingly eternal cringe on his face, even as he made a joke or laughed. This, however, was not remotely funny.
“Pete, I know you’re stressed out, and I know when you get stressed you talk even more than usual, but please shut up,” Blackie said, leading Peter to their office.
“So Beyoncé isn’t dead,” Peter spouted.
“No. No, she isn’t.”
“Thank God.”
The office itself was just about everything Peter dreamt of while he’d fought crime alone in high school. Osborn had sectioned off an entire floor for the purpose of the Spider-Man Initiative, and had retrofitted everything and everywhere with the best and most high tech tools he could. A team of 16 assistants hurried around the room, each an expert in their own field. There was Peter’s personal nurse, the webshooter engineer, the super psychologist, etc. Even now, months later, it still overwhelmed the teen.
“Blackie! And, ah—Mr. Parker! It’s great to see you!” Dr. Otto Octavius, Peter’s quiet connection to Gwen, hurried over to greet him. He vehemently shook his hand, leaving Blackie to shake his head in amusement.
“Always a pleasure. So, you gotta tell me: what’s up, doc?” Peter grinned a little wider at the repeated joke.
“Oh—hahahahaha! Hilarious! Isn’t he hilarious, Raniero?” Otto interjected, laughing in a way that was both disconcerting and flattering at the same time.
“Hilarious? With the same joke he’s made maybe a million times? Tone down the fanboy levels, Otto. You’re making Jimmy Olsen look like prom king-material,” Blackie retorted, leaving the ‘pack’ and walking towards the aisle of computers. “And seriously, what did I say about my name?”
“Oh yes, Blackie…” Otto muttered the word as if it was the nastiest of curses. As Blackie pulled up a video on the enormous monitor stationed on the far wall, Otto continued, “Well, you see, Mr. Parker. We have…how shall I put it?”
“Bad news and bad news?” Blackie swiveled around, leaning on the desk and crossing his arms.
Otto frowned, “Why, yes…My brother-in-law has quite succinctly summed it up.”
Peter rolled his eyes, “My day keeps getting better.”
“First off,” Blackie began, “We’ve still not found either of your two escapees.”
“One of them’s a psycho with a pumpkin helmet. I don’t know why this is a problem,” Peter retorted.
“It’s not that simple. They…well, this is the problem. We think we know why we haven’t been able to find Jenkins or Macendale,” Blackie said.
“We have hypothesized that perhaps…perhaps they are working for someone now; an employer who freed them from captivity and quite passionately desires your death,” Otto finished. His nervous tick arose as he took off his round-rimmed glasses and began to clean them incessantly.
“Yeah? And who would that be?” Peter asked.
“We don’t know,” the two brothers by law responded simultaneously.
“Great…so someone else wants me dead. Okay, fine. Y’know what? Let’s move on. We’ll play the escaped killer thing by ear,” Peter said impatiently.
“Yes, sir. If you say so, sir.” Otto turned to the monitor, “The other ‘bad news’ is…well, Blackie, play the clip.”
“You’re gonna love this, Pete,” Blackie teased before turning back to the keyboard and hitting the shift button.
…
Thirty Minutes Prior
Roderick Kingsley stood proudly in front of a crowd of thousands amidst the halftime of a New York Giants game. Millions more watched on their phones, tablets and TVs. Most of America was at his beck and call.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. You probably wonder exactly why I have replaced the cheerleaders or superstars as your halftime entertainment. While I’d like to think I’m certainly as pretty as any of them,” Roderick couldn’t hear any laughs but he was sure they were there, “I am here because I have something very important to present to you; something that—“
Kingsley’s mic buzzed and hummed as a new face emerged on the Jumbotron: the wicked smirk of a villain so evil that just the sight of him caused many of the game’s attendees to shiver in their seats. Cackling with maniacal glee, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man in a swastika styled lab coat promised one thing.
“Today, American swine, you all vill die in ze name of ze Zird Reich!”
Three helicopters fluttered over the stadium. Immediately two-dozen Neo Nazis swung down from lines.
“Welcome to your doom!” The villain declared.
Before things could get too chaotic, however, Roderick Kingsley jumped into the fray, followed shortly after by his bodyguard, a brown-haired, military built man in a tux.
Kingsley’s voice came through the mic again, “Don’t worry, ladies and gentlemen! I was just here to debut our latest designs but I think this might be a little more appropriate….”
The man in the tux pulled off his jacket and shirt Superman-style, revealing a dark green circle over his heart. The circle expanded outwards, covering his body in lustrous metal, eventually leaving him with a barbed tail and mask as well as body armor.
Kingsley declared, “This is Scorpion—the latest and greatest superhero!”
Before long, the green-clad hero had taken care of the Neo Nazis. Not so much as a hair on anyone’s head had been scathed. Odd, certainly, for a group of would-be terrorists…
Nearby, at the edge of the field and far out of any camera’s view, a brunette woman in a black suit gently tapped her earpiece.
“The mission is a no-go. I repeat, do not retaliate. The attack was staged. Kingsley has not revealed his Hydra ties…yet,” The woman stated before finishing with, “Agent DeWolff out.”
…
“Well, Pete, what do you—“ Blackie turned to face his friend only to discover him gone. The young scientist scowled, and his expression only darkened further when he noticed Otto, strung up in webbing with his mouth covered with the sticky substance. The middle-aged man tried to make noise but couldn’t do more than mumble gibberish.
Blackie sighed, approaching his brother-in-law, “That son of a bitch…”
…
Peter ran a hand through his hair one last time. The occasion wasn’t anxiety or stress for once. He just wanted to look decent for his aunt. Peter raised his hand towards the doorbell before noticing his webshooters and stopping. He quickly pulled them off and tossed them into his backpack. With one last quick adjustment to his button up shirt, Peter neared the doorbell again, but froze again when he heard laughter. Women’s laughter.
Peter took a deep breath and shrugged any doubt away. He had this. He pressed the doorbell firmly. The laughter died. He could see someone through the hazy glass door stand up and approach him. The handle clicked as the door opened, revealing…Mary Jane? What?
The redhead was dressed in a red flannel shirt, denim shorts, and converse. Blue-rimmed hipster glasses made her gorgeous sea-green eyes stand out more than usual . Peter had to silently remind himself he was already seeing someone—her roommate in fact.
Mary Jane smiled at the sight of Peter, “Hey, tiger. Didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“Hey, MJ.” Peter entered after Mary motioned him inside. His aunt May and Mary Jane’s aunt Anna both were sitting in the living room, giggling. May’s head instantly shot up and her face brightened upon seeing her nephew.
“Peter!” May stood up and hurried over to him while MJ shut the door, “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”
“What? Of course I would, Aunt May,” Peter replied, “I mean, it’s the anniversary." Peter paused for a second and then whispered in his aunt’s ear, “It is the anniversary, right?”
May playfully pushed Peter away, “Yes, Peter, it is. I just know you’ve been so busy recently with your studies, your job with that horrible Jameson man, and your sweetheart, Gwen.”
“How is Gweter?” MJ teased, leaning against a couch. Peter gave her an incredulous look. The redhead shrugged, “What? It’s the best ship name I could come up with for you two.”
“Speaking of ‘shipping,’ Mary was just telling us all about it,” May said, moving back over to her seat next to Anna.
“All about me and Gwen?” Peter asked.
“No, shipping, genius,” Mary Jane laughed, “You know you and Gwen are my—“
“—Please don’t say it—“ Peter begged.
“OTP. You’re totally my OTP,” MJ finished with a sly smile.
“I can’t escape Tumblr no matter where I go,” Peter exclaimed, throwing his hands up.
“Get used to it, Grandpa. It’s the age we live in,” MJ said cheerfully. She swung her legs around the couch and collapsed onto it. Peter soon followed her, sitting down right beside her and separating the living room into two generational parts.
After silence settled over the room, and tenseness arose in Peter again, both Parkers tried to speak up.
“Well, Peter—“
“So, Aunt May—“
Both stopped and waited for the other. Both had a faint idea of what was coming.
“Please, go first, Peter,” May said.
“Really, it’s fine if you want to—“
MJ interrupted, “Just go, Pete. We’ll leave.”
The beautiful young woman looked at her aunt, who immediately stood up and followed her out of the room before either Parker could stop them. Now, Peter and his aunt remained alone, silent. The young superhero took a deep breath. This couldn’t wait any longer.
“I’m sorry, Aunt May, about everything. I know things have been tense between us, and I know I’m the reason for that. I…I’ve wanted to come see you, and apologize—“
Peter was silenced as his aunt enveloped him in a thick hug. He wasn’t sure how to react for a second, as May sobbed into his shoulder and held him tightly. Soon enough, he relaxed and embraced her.
“It’s my fault, Peter. Oh my God, it’s my fault!”
“What? No! I—“
“You’re a grown man. You’re—you’re so old now, so brave, so smart. I—I—after your uncle died, I didn’t want you to grow up. I wanted things to be the same as they had been before. I drove you away because I couldn’t accept how things have changed,” May cried.
“Aunt May, please,” Peter held her out in front of him and looked her in the eyes, “I know things have been difficult. I know things have always been difficult with me. This isn’t your fault. I’ve been distant. When Uncle Ben died, I—I took on a responsibility.” May’s gaze faltered. She almost looked like she knew what he was about to say. Peter hesitated. That moment of doubt caused his entire plan to crumble.
“I have to be better to you, Aunt May. I will be better to you. No amount of business, or—or a beautiful girlfriend,” May smiled at that, “is an excuse. I will be here for you, Aunt May, just like I know you’ll be there for me. We’re a family. It’s what we do.”
May wiped away her tears and tried to speak up, but Peter quieted her with one quick movement. He reached into his backpack and produced flowers. She broke down crying all over again.
“What do you say we go visit Uncle Ben? Maybe give him these flowers. You know how he loved flowers,” Peter said gently, his arm around his aunt.
“I think that’s the most wonderful idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
…
Anna drove Peter and May down to the cemetery where Ben had been laid. Once there, she promised to wait for them till they were done. Peter could only smile at the kindness. May had good taste in friends.
It started to drizzle as they neared the site of Ben’s grave. It poured after Peter set down the flowers before the gravestone. The atmosphere couldn’t have felt more appropriate to Peter. The wounds of his uncle’s death hadn’t been so raw since he’d discovered his killer…the man Peter had let escape…his greatest failure…
“We should s-say something,” May managed through muffled sobs, her right arm locked in Peter’s left. The young man nodded, the rain sticking his hair down onto his forehead and obscuring his eyes. He was glad of that. That way Ben couldn’t see him cry. He always hated seeing Peter cry.
“Uncle Ben,” Peter stopped as a sob echoed up. He coughed it back down and continued. “Uncle Ben, I am so, so sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I’ve still failed you. I try so hard every day but I just keep screwing up.”
May rested her free hand on Peter’s arm, but she was still crying too strongly to speak. Peter ignored her and kept going.
“I…I promise, I’ll find a way. I’ll keep trying, and eventually I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be more responsible. I just…I needed a wake up call. I think this was it.” Peter took a deep breath and managed to smile, “I’ve met a girl, Uncle Ben. She’s my first, I know, but I think she might be the one. I love her, and the next time I see her I swear I’ll tell her…for you. For her. And—and my life, I think it’s on the up swing in every way. Now, I’ve just got to step up. I will. I swear to you I will. I…I love you, Uncle Ben.”
Peter quieted and May knew it was now her turn.
“Hello, my love,” May whispered and burst into tears again. Peter wrapped her in his arms and she composed herself. She pulled away and faced Ben’s grave. “I…I miss you so much. So, so much, but I’m managing. Anna Watson and her niece are helping. And Peter…oh, he won’t admit it to you, but he’s helping. He’s doing so well, helping pay the bills, keeping me laughing with those wonderful, silly jokes of his. I…God, I miss you, Ben. I wish…I wish…”
May couldn’t finish. Peter embraced her again and the two sobbed into each other’s shoulders as the rain poured over them. Neither one could manage to say another word. Neither one could do more than look over Ben’s grave and the flowers they’d left for him. Neither one wanted to leave, but eventually they did.
They had to leave. They had to keep moving forward.
It was what Ben would have wanted.
…
As the rain continued to pour and night fell, after Peter and May had spent hours recollecting their favorite Benjamin Parker stories, it came time for Peter to leave. The young hero walked out the front door as May tried to keep him from leaving.
“Why don’t you just stay here tonight?” May begged, “It’s late and you’ll get sick going home in this downpour.”
"It is late and I have class in the morning. I gotta get back to the dorm before curfew. I'll be okay." Peter promised, backing up and pulling his hood over his head.
May said, "Well I'm sorry if I kept you too long. I guess I just miss having you home every night."
Peter laughed a little. "I'll come see you this weekend, I promise. Thanks for dinner, Aunt May. I love you."
"I love you too, Peter. Be careful."
“Always,” Peter whispered to himself as he left, “I’m always careful.”
Before he could get too far down the street, he stopped. Peter looked back. He had the oddest feeling that someone was watching him. No spider sense. Weird. Peter shrugged the thought off. It had to be nothing.
…
Nearing his dorm shouldn’t have been a problem. Honestly, being a superhuman with a sixth sense that alerted him to danger should have prevented any unnecessary catastrophes. Still, Peter only managed to make it fifty yards onto campus before he ended up face first in the mud. No spider sense. No warning.
Soaked to the brim and covered in grime, Peter’s assailant flipped him around and held him down.
“GIVE IT BACK!” The assailant roared.
Peter couldn’t make out a face in the darkness, so he wasted no time asking questions. He kicked up at the crazed attacker with all his might. If he had some way to block his spider sense, there was no point in hiding his powers. This guy knew who he was facing.
The assailant flipped in mid-air and landed in a three-pronged position. What the hell? Peter knew that position. He’d invented it!
“Who are you?” Peter demanded.
“I could say the same,” the assailant retorted.
“Listen, I don’t know what your beef is with me—“
“Shut up! You know what you did!” The figure in the darkness shouted. Before Peter could speak up again, the figure leaped for him just as lightning exploded to life in the sky. No. No no no no!
The figure tackled Peter to the ground. Peter didn’t react as he raised his fist. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.
Thunder crackled. Lightning flashed again to reveal the assailant and confirm Peter’s suspicions. Thunder boomed overhead.
Peter’s attacker was Peter. The only difference was he wore different clothing: a dirty, torn blue sweatshirt, red undershirt and jeans. What the hell was going on??
More furious than ever before, Peter’s mirror image roared, “GIVE ME MY LIFE BACK!”