Building a Web
Building a Web
The sky turned bronze as a young man swung like a wrecking ball through New York City. Style and flair; those were for chumps. For self-centered, egotistical, crime fighters that swung too high in the clouds to see what really happened in the alleyways they passed.
No, down in the streets and alleys, you had to move with a purpose. No dilly-dallying. If you stalled for one second, you could lose your target, and then whatever happened after that would be on you!
The young man knew where Hammerhead would be, but he knew the mob boss wouldn't stay there for long. He never stayed anywhere for long. Guess that's what happens when you piss off your old boss when you try to take over the business. Of course, anyone is easy to find when you apply enough pressure. And for someone with the proportionate strength of a spider, that's no problem.
Montana's Bar. It had taken the young man about an hour to find that information. Not every criminal in New York worked for Hammerhead, though, he did learn some useful information about someone only known as Kingpin. He'd look into that later after he'd rescued his friends. Speaking of.
"You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy," the young man said to himself. From his perch on the corner of a building, he watched a few men walk out of the bar and up the streets. He could go in through the vent, or change out of his red and black suit and mosey in for a pint himself. Nah, better to just storm the castle. Establish dominance.
The young man leaped from the top of the building and swung into the door. The door was swept clean off its hinges and knocked a few patrons to the floor. The lucky patrons who were further away from the door managed to dive out of the way, while those sitting at the bar barely moved.
For a moment, all eyes landed on the young man. A penny could drop and sound like a pumpkin bomb went off in the bar.
Then, an old voice cut through the silence. "That's it, I'm going to Josie's."
The young man didn't turn to face the old crook as he tried to walk past him.
SHINK!
Like a flash of light, a six-inch long stinger shot out of the young man's wrist and drew blood from the old crook's throat.
"In case anyone else is illiterate, allow me to reiterate what the door was trying to tell you," the young man growled. He pushed his stinger a little further into the old crook's neck and he screamed before falling to the floor, paralyzed.
"Any questions?" the young man asked, waving his stinger around at the patrons.
"Lad, you're gonna have to try a little harder if you wanna shake down anyone in this bar," a mustachioed man sitting in the back said in a cockney accent. He hadn't even looked up from his neat and orderly piles of cash.
The young man leaped forward and landed on the table in front of Blackie Gaxton. "And if I put on a spot of tea, would ya be more willing, gov'na?" the young man said, mocking Blackie's accent.
"You 'ave any?" Blackie asked, still counting his money.
The young man brandished his stinger. "It's a special tea."
Blackie shrugged. "I prefer sugar." The young man growled, and swiped the bills on the table! They fluttered through the air and to the ground, but Blackie just sighed. "Get on with the speech lad. You spiders always have one."
The young man flipped off the table and landed on the ground. He walked over to the bar and webbed a beer to himself. He popped it open, lifted up his mask, and started drinking. As the bitter liquid slid down his throat, a car alarm sounded in his head! Instinctually, the young man raised his hand and caught one of the patron's fists. Bones crunched and cracked under the young man's grip, and the patron cried out in agony. The patron's legs buckled underneath him, and the young man felt all of the patron's weight transfer to him.
"Personally, I prefer to let my actions speak for me. But I can give the speech a go," the young man said, his voice low and steady. "You all know Spider-Man and Scarlet Spider. I'm sure you are aware of Daredevil and Moon Knight. I'm sure you have your own little diagrams and charts made about which heroes are least likely to beat you to a pulp when they catch you stepping out of line."
The young man ripped off the patron's sleeve, exposing the flesh of his shoulder to the room.
"I don't do that. I won't beat you to a pulp if you step out of line. You come across me, I'll give you two choices: you do as I say, or be prepared to bear my mark," he said. The young man placed his hand on the patron's shoulder. "The Mark of Kaine!"
Kaine ripped his hand off the patron's shoulder, peeling the skin from his flesh! The patron howled as blood spurted and dripped down his arm. He fell to his knees and clutched his shoulder.
Blackie looked at the patron, then back to Kaine. "What can I do for you?"
"Information," Kaine said, downing another sip of his beer. "Information on Hammerhead."
The first thing Peter recognized when he opened his eyes was the platinum hair draped over Felicia's porcelain skin. It wasn't the first time Peter had woken up next to her, and he felt just as giddy and refreshed now as he did a year ago. They hadn't done anything. Well, that–strictly speaking–wouldn't be true, but they hadn't gone all the way. As much as his body wanted him to, Peter refrained from taking things further. It did help that they were in Felicia's bed and not his. Peter didn't need to get The Look from Gwen to know that that would be a bad idea. He just couldn't bring himself to bring another woman to his bed. Not while the sting of his and MJ's split was still there. For now, Peter was content with some kissing and cuddling. Being the little spoon was a nice change of pace.
Peter sat up in the large bed, sliding a little bit as he did. He could never get used to how smooth silk sheets were, which was odd considering how natural sticking to glass felt to him.
BZZT!
The bed vibrated, and Peter reached blindly for his phone. Then, he frowned when he felt something a lot more toned than the mattress.
"Well, that's one way to wake a girl up."
Peter's eyes widened and he retracted his hand as if he touched fire. "Sorry, sorry, just looking for my phone," he rambled. Then, he felt his hand connect with the hard rectangular object. "I don't know it got here though."
"The heat of the moment will do that to you," Felicia remarked. She stretched out the stiffness in her body; her feet wiggled and shook the whole bed.
"I didn't know spooning could be hot," Peter said, cocking his eyebrow.
"Try being the big spoon next time."
"But being the little spoon is so safe!"
Felicia sat up in bed and looked at Peter with obvious appreciation.
"What?" Peter asked, keeping his gaze locked on Felicia's face and not on the tempting thin crop top she wore. It was too early in the morning to drive down dangerous roads.
"The big tough Spider-Man prefers to be the little spoon…" she said, her voice quivering with laughter, "Imagine what that would do to your street cred if New York's undercity were to find that out!"
"Probably nothing," Peter said, standing up from the bed and stretching himself. "All the tough guys are secretly saps. Why do you think we put so much emphasis on our macho quotas?" In an attempt to prove his point, Peter struck a bodybuilder's pose and flexed while growling like a tiger.
"Ah yes, very macho indeed," Felicia purred. She crawled toward the edge of the bed, and Peter couldn't help himself as his eyes trailed to her loose crop top and tantalizing pajama shorts.
Suddenly, Peter felt the walls close in around him. He reached down to the floor and snatched his suit top up as quickly as possible. When he finally found the right hole to pop his head through, he was thankful to see that Felicia seemed to take pity on him and sat on the edge of the bed as modestly as she could. He just wasn't ready for anything further than the cuddling and kissing, and seeing Felicia all…Felicia was dangerous.
"Breakfast?" Felicia asked, standing up from her bed and walking over to her dresser. She opened it and started to rummage through the contents. "I have some Coco Puffs in the pantry."
Peter slipped into his suit pants and then strode out of the bedroom. "Thanks, what about you?"
"I don't think you have the time to make my breakfast!" Felicia shouted back. "Don't you have class to get to?"
Peter's eyes bugged out of his head as he stepped into Felicia's kitchen. He whipped his phone up and opened his texts.
Gwen: Pete where are you? Class starts in 5?
"Shit, yeah," Peter shouted back. "Sorry, Cat, I have to swing!"
Felicia walked out of her room dressed for the day in—much to Peter's surprise—a pantsuit. "Eat something before you go!"
Peter bolts to the pantry and pulls out the box of Coco Puffs. He shakes the contents and looks up at Felicia. "Can I take this?"
Felicia chuckled. "Just don't choke while you're swinging!"
"Don't worry, my Spider-Sense will tingle if that's the case," Peter said as he double-checked his web cartridges. He snatched his mask off the edge of Felicia's couch, and as his hand closed around the handle, he paused. What is Felicia doing in a pantsuit? "Hey, Cat, what's with the new digs?"
"I'm meeting with a real estate agent," she called down. "Can't exactly take that meeting in my casual wear, now can I?"
"How, uh, how do you plan on paying for that?" Peter asked, trying to keep his voice casual. His hand was fully off the door handle and he was now looking up the balcony at Felicia.
She placed her hands on her hips. "Is that suspicion I hear?"
"Sorry," Peter said, rubbing the back of his neck, "old habits die hard, I guess."
"Preaching to the choir, Spider," she said, walking down the stairs.
"So, what is the deal with the suit?" Peter asked.
Felicia walked up to Peter and wrapped her arms around his neck. Peter wrapped his arms around her waist, though with some slight hesitation. As much as he enjoyed the contact, he still felt a little dirty about it. And not the fun kind.
Felicia looked at him for a moment, and Peter felt as if he were a piece of jewelry locked behind a glass case before she gave him a light peck on the cheek.
"Spoilers," she said. With that, Felicia turned Peter around, opened the door to her balcony, and pushed Peter through with a quick pinch on his butt. "See you later, Swinger!"
Felicia closed the door to the balcony as Peter put his Spider-Man mask on with one hand, and rubbed his butt with the other.
BZZZT!
"Shit!" He was going to be late!
Spidey ran to the edge of the balcony and leapt off the building, all while shoveling handfuls of Coco Puffs into his mouth!
Peter sprinted across ESU's Midtown Campus, he'd run into a few…complications on the way. Luckily, the Avengers were there to deal with a group of guys calling themselves the Wrecking Crew? Honestly, Peter wished he had time to join in on the fun. He had sooooooo many jokes he wanted to throw their way. The name was just prime material for some classic Spidey quippage, but he was late enough for his class.
He ran past the window of his classroom and glanced inside. Suddenly, Peter stopped in his tracks. Inside the classroom was MJ.
Peter stared at her. She looked just as stunning as ever, but there was something off about her. To the untrained eye, nothing would seem off with MJ. She'd throw on that smile that'd make pretty much anyone gets lost in, say the right words, and boom! No one would be the wiser. But not Peter.
Admittedly, it had taken him longer to pick up on her facial cues than it had taken her to pick up on his, but now he could read her face like it was a biology textbook. The way her eyes flickered to the door every few seconds. The way her nonchalant smile stayed plastered to her face just enough to convince someone it was a true smile despite it not reaching her eyes.
What was he doing!? How could he face her now? He had just arrived at class the day after he broke up with the woman he loved, and on that same night he wound up in bed with another woman! What do you say to someone after all that happens? 'So what'd you do this weekend?'
"I'm not ready for this…" Peter didn't register when his legs started moving. He just watched as MJ's face grew smaller in the window. He didn't even register the alarm bells signaling in his head.
"Ow!" Peter said, rubbing his butt.
"Sorry, Parker," a voice said. Peter looked up from the ground and saw Flash Thompson extending a helping hand toward him. Flash tilted his head. "You…good?"
Peter stared at Flash's hand for a second, then shook his head. "Yeah, yeah, I just…guess I was in dreamland for a second there."
Peter took Flash's hand and Flash pulled him to his feet. "What are you doing out here? Don't you have class?"
Peter grimaced. "I uh, got held up."
"Spider-Man?"
"Overslept actually," Peter said.
Flash gave Peter a smirk. "Mary Jane keeping you up?"
Peter clenched his fists.
Flash's eyes widened. "Sorry, just, the clothes, and…you know what? That's none of my business," he said. Flash shuffled backward, his head bowed. "I'll, uh, see you around, Parker."
Peter furrowed his brow, he couldn't exactly blame Flash for assuming he made the Walk of Shame. Swing of Shame would be more accurate, considering he realized he didn't have any clothes with him at Felicia's about halfway on his swing to ESU. So, he stopped at a thrift store and raided the lost and found box. He was sure his haphazard appearance of baggy sweatpants and a bright pink shirt was the impotence for Flash's inquiry. Though, a small part of him couldn't help but feel a little touched by Flash's question. "You good, Flash?"
Flash halted in his tracks. He looked down at the ground, his eyes crisscrossed along the paved sidewalk like he was doing a math problem. Then, they stopped. He found his answer. "Sha Shan and I broke up."
"Oh," Peter said.
"Yeah," Flash said, shifting his weight from side to side. "Kind of a long time coming, I guess. We just weren't really connecting anymore, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," Peter mumbled.
Flash cocked his head to the side. "Trouble in paradise, Pete?"
Maybe it was the way Flash stood. His defeated posture; the way his shoulders sagged, pushing his hands deeper into his pants pocket. The way he seemed to lean harder on his left leg as if the football injury from all those years ago in junior year was still weighing him down, but for some reason, Peter found himself saying, "MJ and I broke up last night."
Flash's mouth practically dropped to the ground.
Couldn't have said it better myself, Eugene. Peter sat down on the steps next to them. And, after a moment, Flash sat down next to him.
"You wanna talk about it?" Flash asked.
"Not particularly," Peter answered. Then, he glanced at Flash. "Wanna talk about yours?"
Flash shook his head. The pair of Midtown High alumni sat in silence as they looked out over the ESU Campus. Two young men, equal in their heartbreak, and equal in their standing. On this ground, they were both just two freshmen. Peter was only known as 'King Geek' to Flash, and Flash's rep of 'Star Quarterback' was known only to Peter, Gwen, and MJ. Could they…maybe…be becoming friends?
As if they were thinking the same thing, Peter and Flash looked at each other and then shook their heads. No, of course, they couldn't be. They were just two guys that happened to be going through similar situations and just happened to be sitting on the same steps together.
Peter cleared his throat and shot to his feet. "I'm just gonna—"
Flash jumped to his feet as well. "Yeah, yeah, that sounds—"
"It's just, I should probably change into better clothes," Peter said, taking another step backward.
"Yeah, and I have…something to get to," Flash struggled to say. "Besides, we'll see each other—"
"At my Aunts for dinner tonight," Peter finished, surprising both himself and Flash. "Aunt May has me, Gwen, and…me and Gwen over at six every week for dinner. Why don't you come join us?"
"Thanks, I, uh, I think I have some free time tonight," Flash stammered.
For a second longer, Peter and Flash held each other's gaze, before they turned around and walked away.
Gwen walked out of her English class with MJ. She couldn't help the feeling of disappointment that carried her out of the class. Peter hadn't shown up for class today. She knew she couldn't exactly blame him for that. When she and Harry broke up, there was definitely a period of just plain awkwardness they had to endure because High School bends for no person!
But here in College, they had the freedom to ditch as they please and the professors didn't really care. She hoped Peter was alright. The last she saw of him was him hopping out the window of their apartment with Black Cat clinging to his back.
Gwen didn't like the implications of that one bit! It wasn't that she didn't trust Black Cat to watch his back in the field. She knew she could. But it was the way Black Cat clung to and pressed her body against Peter that raised Gwen's suspicion. She knew they had history, but you don't get that close to someone you are just working with. And now Peter didn't come home at all and was skipping class.
But Peter wasn't the only one Gwen had to worry about. No, there were two people she was caught in the middle of. Her best friend, and her best friend. One of which was vastly superior at hiding her emotions than the other.
"So, you going to dinner at May's tonight?" MJ asked, glancing at Gwen as they walked to the edge of the campus. Gwen had her first day of being a Tutor to get to.
"That was the plan," Gwen responded, "but plans can change."
"Oh, don't I know it!" MJ said, smiling.
Gwen furrowed her brow. "What does that mean?"
"My plans for this night changed as well!" MJ said brightly. "This redhead's going to a broadway party tonight!
"What!" Gwen exclaimed. "When did this invite happen?"
"Do you remember Brad Davis?" MJ asked.
Gwen screwed up her face. The name did sound familiar, but the person it was attached to had escaped her memory. So, she shook her head.
"He was my co-star in the production of Grease I did during the summer," MJ said. "He played Danny Zuko."
Gwen's eyes widened. She remembered how much Peter had hemmed and hawed about Brad. "That Brad Davis!?"
"He's been trying to get me to be his Plus One to one of these parties for a while," MJ said.
"But, what about dinner tonight?" Gwen asked, before she could stop herself. She flashes MJ an apologetic look, only to see MJ still with a smile on her face.
"Dinner happens every night, a party like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity," MJ said. She checked her watch. "Speaking of, I need to go to the store and pick up a refill on my perfume. Later Gwen."
"Later…" Gwen watched MJ walk down the street in the direction of Fifth Avenue until she disappeared in the sea of New York. She sighed. Now she had three problems to deal with; two best friends that still love each other, but had broken up and had wildly different coping mechanisms, and a white-haired thief she didn't entirely trust not to sink her claws into New York's Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Ugh, shouldn't the biggest problem in my life be keeping a long-distance relationship that's also not a relationship going strong? At least tutoring won't be complicated, and I could use some normalcy in my life! Gwen shifted her bag on her shoulder and walked for the bus to take her to Brooklyn.
Gwen stepped off the bus and walked up the steps of Brooklyn Visions Academy. A private school…she remembered when her dad had suggested she go to one back when she was applying for high schools. But, she had refused. She wanted to go to the same school Peter and Harry were going to.
Here, at this academy where the kids were forced to wear a uniform, she felt like an outsider. All these kids had their lives planned out for them, or had a strict goal set in mind of what they were working toward, and she was here to tutor one of them in Classroom F-4. Wherever that was. Gwen checked her watch; she had five minutes to find the classroom.
A few left turns and one right turn later, Gwen found the science classroom designated for tutoring. It was bustling with other college students and Visions Academy students working on their projects and homework. At the desk in the front of the class sat a teacher who–in Gwen's opinion–looked like he belonged next to Einstein in a black and white photo.
"Hi, I'm Gwen Stacy–"
"Find a space and wait for your pupil," Einstein-lite said without looking up from his computer.
"Who exactly is my–"
"He'll be here in a second," Einstein-lite said, again without looking up. "This kid is always running late to every class."
"I keep telling you you're just early, Professor," a voice behind Gwen said. "Time is relative after all."
Gwen swiveled around to see a gangly teenage boy with an impish smile locking eyes with Einstein-lite. He had dark skin and hair closely shaven to his head, and a comforting look in his eye. Like he could look at you and see what all your buttons were, but he chose not to press them.
The gangly teen extended his hand to Gwen. "Hi! My name's Miles Morales."