The Yellow Pages

“Why?”

“Simple. You and I have a common enemy. I want him dealt with.” Dr. Connors’s eyes flashed with a mix of recognition and understanding.

“Peter Parker. And what makes you think I will help you?” he asked, finally rising from his seat to fully face the other man in the room.

“Because, Dr. Connors, you are a scientist: a man whose mind never rests, and it will plague you for eternity within these walls where you are locked up, incapable of experimentation,” Mr. Negative offered.

“I was already a bit of a mad scientist before my stay here began,” he scoffed in return.

“You have also proven yourself to be more reliable than certain other players in this city,” he said, his eyes flitting back towards the door.

“A more attractive argument for you than myself,” Dr. Connors bit back.

“I am also not asking. Any and all explanations were nothing more than a simple courtesy, but I really do not have the time to sit here and beg so-” 

He paused and stepped forward, pressing a cold hand to the taller man’s shoulder, and suddenly his thoughts felt much further away, as though they had been obscured by a thick fog or torn out like pages in a diary.

“I am breaking you out, and we are leaving now.”

Peter couldn’t quite explain what he was doing back at The Ink Pot. It was as though something had pulled him there, tugging at some invisible string as he made his way down the New York City streets. This time, as he stepped inside, he took a moment to observe the small shop. The shelves were all crafted from dark oak, and the lights hung sparingly around each section emitted a warm yellow glow. In the back, Peter spotted what he could only assume to be the children’s section, marked by a large tree, emerging halfway out of the wall, decorated by fairy lights that hung limply from the branches.

He didn’t realize he was looking for Kat until he’d found her. His feet, which had unconsciously carried him to the back of the store, planted themselves in front of a nearby shelf upon spotting the familiar head of red hair, and Peter busied himself with pretending to take great interest in the titles before him.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” Kat spoke, having looked up and noticed him, and Peter suddenly realized he didn’t have the slightest clue.

“Oh, I was just… browsing,” he fumbled.

“Funny, I didn’t peg you as a Russian literature kind of guy. You a big Tolstoy fan?” She quirked her head to the side, the ghost of a smirk forming on her lips.

“Oh yeah, I love Crime and Punishment,” he replied, his brain supplying the closest title he could find.

“That’s Dostoevsky,” Kat responded easily. She paused, eyeing Peter curiously.

“So what are you actually doing here, Peter Parker?” she asked.

“I- I don’t know,” Peter’s shoulders sank as the truth made its way out. He didn’t know. 

“Don’t you have any friends to hang out with?” she asked slowly, her eyes swirling with curiosity and a bit of pity. But her expression held no judgment or contempt. She just seemed worried about him.

“You’re my friend,” he said quickly, thinking back to their conversation two days before.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t count,” she tsked, shaking her head.

“You’re not my friend?”

“No! I didn’t say that. It’s just, I’m a girl you met on a failed blind date two days ago. Surely you have other friends,” she reasoned, flustered by the accusation, but she quickly settled when Peter’s smirk betrayed his joking manner.

“Technically, we met three weeks ago,” he smiled.

“Do you really want to count that?” Her eyebrows raised.

“No…” Peter admitted. She looked at him for a moment, unmoving, as though she was really taking him in for the first time since they’d met.

“My lunch break is at one. We can hang out then, but for now, you need to leave,” she said, turning on her heel to walk away.

“What? Why?” Peter asked, scrambling to follow her.

“Because, if you keep distracting the staff and loitering, you’re gonna get me fired,” she said, though her tone was light, and she showed no displeasure at his company.

“Are you sure I have to go?” he asked, sticking his bottom lip out for good measure. Kat snorted at the expression, and Peter felt that familiar sense of victory at having made her laugh.

“Get out of here. I’ll meet you at the cafe down the street in thirty minutes,” she said before disappearing from his side. 

Peter sighed but made his way towards the door.

He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped outside. Even before the people came flying past on the sidewalk, jostling one another in their efforts to get away: the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Peter’s head whipped around, eyes landing on the source of their fear: a very large, very angry lizard.

“Shit.” It wasn’t hard to recognize Dr. Connors, given their fairly recent encounter only a month beforehand. What was alarming was the absence of his more frail human form and the fact that he was not at Ravencroft, trapped in a cell, where he belonged.

Darting into the nearest alleyway, Peter scrambled to strip off his outer layer of clothing to reveal the all too familiar red and blue suit beneath. After stuffing his backpack behind the rather putrid dumpster and flipping down his mask, he launched himself forward to greet his old rival.

“Hey there, Doc. You look different. Did you get a haircut or something?” Peter shouted, catching the reptile’s attention. To his surprise, he was not met with a response. Instead, Dr. Connors unleashed a deep growl before surging forward. Peter was quick to move out of the way, swinging his way onto a nearby lamppost for a better vantage point. Crouching down, he made a mental note to clock the number of citizens remaining on the street before returning his gaze to the oncoming threat. Dr. Connors charged the lamppost, wrapping two long, scaly hands around its base before uprooting it completely with Peter still attached.

Twisting mid-air to face the building beside him, he webbed the upper left corner before using the string to propel him back towards Dr. Connors feet first. Peter landed firmly atop the seven-foot lizard, planting a foot on each shoulder, his momentum sending the pair toppling over. Not wasting a minute in hesitation, Peter set to work webbing the large reptile to the ground, though he stopped short upon meeting his eyes. Dr. Connor’s gaze was hazy and unfocused, his usually blue irises appearing a jarring shade of orange and his pupils stark white. Most disturbing of all, though, were the whites of his eyes, shining with a dull grey, almost black, color. It was as though they had been inverted: like a negative of a photograph.

“What?”

His pause did not go unnoticed, and in an instant, the tables had turned, with Dr. Connors easily casting him aside, landing a heavy smack to the ribs. Peter hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop just in time to dodge another blow. Beside him, the reptilian man easily cracked the concrete where his head had lain only moments before. Dr. Connors was aiming to kill. Except this wasn’t Dr. Connors. He was different somehow.

“Dr. Connors, can we just talk for a second?” Peter pleaded, once more scrambling to dodge what should have been a significant blow. “What is going on?”

“Mr. Negative is one with all things.” The response came in Dr. Connors’s voice, grating and distorted.

“Mr.- Who?” Peter’s eyebrows knit together beneath the mask in confusion. Once more, the lizard reared up before surging forward, easily grabbing Peter with his large, talon-like hands before flinging him into the side of a car. He sank to the ground, slumping over with his back to one of the doors, and struggled to catch his breath. Slowly, the large reptile stalked forward, raising a hand above his head, claws fully extended. Peter clenched his eyes shut, mentally preparing for the intensity of the blow, but it didn’t come.

Daring to look up in the direction of his attacker, he just caught Dr. Connors stumbling backward, hands clutching his face as some of his scales began to disappear, revealing patches of the older man’s flesh. The reptile locked eyes with Peter momentarily, and despite their strange coloring, he could still detect the emotion that pooled within: fear. Spinning on his heel, the creature darted in the direction of the nearest pothole, slipping inside and disappearing in a blur. 

Peter could already see the bruise forming below his eye as he checked himself in the bathroom mirror. Pressing a cautious finger into the skin, he quickly pulled back with a wince before deciding there was nothing he could do to fix it now and stuffing his suit down into his bag. He made his way back out into the restaurant, weaving through the other seated patrons before sliding into a booth next to a window facing the street. 

Reaching down into his bag, he fished around for his laptop, shifting around several foreign objects in his attempts to unearth it. Finally, having retrieved what he was looking for, Peter opened his search engine and began to type. Dr. Curt Connors. His fingers deftly scrolled down the page, eyes scanning the various articles and their headlines until they caught on one written only days before: Dr. Curt Connors Escapes From Ravencroft Prison. Clicking the link, he began to read:

Today, in the early hours of the morning, Ravencroft Prison experienced a jailbreak. Dr. Curt Conners, escorted by an unidentified man, was caught on camera exiting the premises without authorization. Though no one was killed in the incident, several guards were harmed in the altercation. The pair are pictured below, escaping the prison.

Peter squinted in an effort to make out the two forms in the rather blurry photograph. Dr. Connors easily stood out in his lizard form, looming over the other man who he couldn’t recognize. He wracked his brain for the name the reptilian man had called him earlier that day. Mr. Negative. Returning to the search bar, Peter typed in the name. Nothing. He clicked over to the next page of search results. A single Reddit thread, describing an interaction two years beforehand, with a self-proclaimed Mr. Negative. Peter once more clicked in.

the guy was a total fucking weirdo. called himself mr. negative and kept trying to grab me, saying, “you won’t have a choice once you’re under my control”. i would say he was high out of his mind, but he looked weird too. his skin was all black with these white eyes, kinda like a negative of a photo. needless to say, i will not be going back to volunteer at f.e.a.s.t. again any time soon.

Peter couldn’t help but recall the way Dr. Connors’s eyes had looked when reading the description of the strange man, but it was something else that really drew his attention. F.E.A.S.T. That was the name of the soup kitchen Aunt May volunteered at every Saturday. He bookmarked the page before slamming the laptop shut at the sound of his name being called.

“Peter!” His head jerked up, eyes meeting those of a familiar redhead as she pushed her way through the surrounding tables towards him.

“Sorry, it took me so long. I couldn’t get around all the roadblocks. You know, if Spider-man’s gonna make such a big mess, the least he can do is stick around to help clean up,” she huffed, slumping down into the seat across from Peter. He felt his eyebrows raise at the subtle bitterness laced in her words.

“Not a big fan?” he asked, taking in her unwillingness to meet his gaze, instead burying herself in the menu. She only scoffed.

“I just don’t get all the hero-worshipping. He’s just some guy- with complete disregard for the law, by the way.” She closed the menu rather violently and slammed it down on the table before taking a moment to compose herself. 

“No, I’m not a fan,” she admitted finally, conceding to his curiosity. Peter felt his stomach sink at the admission, but he plastered on a smile and moved the conversation along, asking if she’d been to the restaurant before.

“Only once or twice, but usually just for a coffee-to-go. Oh! I almost forgot. I got you something.” Turning to dig through the tote bag beside her, she pulled out a book, far smaller than the copy of The Yellow Pages she’d gifted him only days before.

“For me?” Peter feigned surprise, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Whatever,” Kat only rolled her eyes, pushing the hardcover across the table. The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

“Like the movie?” Peter asked, head cocking to the side.

“No. Like the book the movie was based on,” she replied easily, hand forming a perch for her chin to rest on.

“Why?” he asked, looking down quizzically at the cover.

“If you don’t want it, I can take it back.” Kat reached over to take the book, but he stopped her, snatching the book out of her reach and jerking back.

“I didn’t say I don’t want it. I just asked why,” he said, now holding it tight against his chest, far from her reach.

“Well, you said you like The Outsiders, so I went off of that,” she shrugged.

“But why the gift?” he asked again.

“Since I’m your only friend-”

“You’re not-”

“I am, and you know it,” Kat continued with a pointed look, “I thought it was the least I could do to help keep you occupied while I’m working, since apparently you don’t have a job and have self-selected to bug me at mine,” she finished, sitting back with a smirk.

“I do have a job, by the way,” Peter reassured her.

“Sure,” she replied in a voice that very clearly said ‘I don’t believe you’.

“I’m serious. I do private coding projects. And I sell lucrative photographs on the side,” he explained, failing to mention that those ‘lucrative photographs’ were in fact shots he’d taken of himself as Spider-man, on patrol.

“Lucrative- Oh my God, do you do porn!” Kat squawked, and Peter winced immediately as several heads turned in their direction.

“What? No! No. It’s more like a paparazzi-type thing,” he corrected, stumbling over his words.

“Relax, I figured,” she smiled teasingly.

By the time the pair stood to leave, Peter had almost completely forgotten his altercation with Dr. Connors. That is, until he stood up. Covering his wince with a cough, he bent down slowly to lift the strap of his bag onto his shoulder. As he stood back up, he felt Kat watching him and felt his shoulders relax with gratitude when she chose not to say anything. Peter stepped to the side, allowing her room to squeeze by, then turned to follow her out of the restaurant. However, as they began to head towards the door, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight. 

Peter whipped his head around, searching for the source of his discomfort, his eyes landing on the strange-looking man watching him through the window. Except he wasn’t watching Peter, he was looking directly at Kat, glued to his side, rooting through her bag in search of her phone. Quickly, he stepped around her, moving towards the door and thrusting it open in search of the man. The man he knew immediately from the photo in the article. Mr. Negative. 

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Peter didn’t even seem to notice the cold gust of air as it rushed past him, biting at his cheeks and lungs. He spun to the side, eyes immediately searching out the spot where he had stood only moments ago, looking through the window. Looking at Kat. But he was gone.

Behind him, Peter barely registered the door swinging open once more as Kat appeared at his side, eyes flashing with concern. 

“Peter, what’s wrong?” she demanded, a hand reaching out to tug at his arm.

“Nothing,” he reassured her, but he didn’t meet her eyes as a sinking feeling settled itself in his chest. Kat was in danger, and it was all his fault.