Chapter Text
Everything in her room was meticulously planned. The shelf was precisely ten and a half inches away from her door. Her toy cabin was built with the finest Ikea materials, painted by an over-excited Peter, supervised by Mary Jane. Everything in her room was costly, too costly, if Aunt May could see she would probably yell at him, begging him to be more conscious, that she probably wouldn’t even remember most of this. Not like it mattered. As long as she enjoyed these things at the moment, that, that made it all worth it.
It used to be a dirty, abandoned office. Housing old photograph work, most of which he left unfinished. His trophies sat in the corner, collecting dust. In their place, there was now a rocking horse. It’s her favorite. She can sit in it for hours, simply rocking back and forth. Often she would have Peter take it out into the living room, where she loudly blabbered at whatever show Peter and Mary Jane were watching.
She goes to sleep no later than eight pm, despite constantly waking up in between the hours. Mary Jane has tried to put her to bed earlier. Eight works just fine, however, because it means Peter can kiss her goodnight, just before leaving for work.
He first started as a small photographer, doing jobs for the Daily Bugle. Nothing too grim. He always saw it more as art than the usual reporter stuff. His favorite thing to photograph was the people of New York. Pictures upon pictures of people eating and dancing and singing. One of his favorite pictures was of Aunt May feeding ducks, it was a simple picture, but it seemed to resonate enough with people that he was able to make his own book. The private, human side of New York always intrigued him, it called to him. In a city so huge, so endless, it was refreshing to see people being people.
He hadn’t taken pictures like that in a long time.
He made sure that Mayday had a clean diaper, that she was comfortable in her pajamas, made sure that all her toys were in their places, and that her crib was nice and safe. She had fallen asleep while Mary Jane and he watched a movie, so he tried not to move too much. Lightly put her in the crib, smiling as she stretched. He opened a cabin and took out a clean blanket, placing it over her. He stood there, looking down at her smiling, making sure that everything was alright. After a few seconds, he leaned in and placed one kiss on her forehead.
“I’ll be right back, honey.”
The movie wasn’t a big hit. He put on his jacket and shoes, turned it off, and kissed Mary Jane on her cheek. She was in the same position Peter had to wiggle himself out of, carefully making sure to not wake up Mayday or Mary Jane. He headed for the master bedroom, directly in front of Mayday’s room. Out of the closet, he grabbed his old camera, barely holding on after years of use. He wrote Mary Jane a quick note, carrying a spare blanket, placing the note on the coffee table and the blanket on Mary Jane. Peter looked around the apartment, taking in the quietness and domesticity of it, before slipping out.
The city was still very active, everything was still open. But he ignored it. There was already a set path, it ignored everything and everyone, disconnected from the life of the city. It took Peter out of the main streets, out of the color and smells. The wind was harsher in the alleys, or at least it sounded harsher. the sound of cars and people was muffled, background noise to the sound of moving water, of creaks and groans with no place of origin.
Peter climbed the fire escape of an unknown building, sitting down on the roof, holding his camera close to his chest. He knew it was too early, far too many people were still out, but it never hurt to try. Waiting this long allowed him to blend better into the environment, gave him a feel of the area.
Same path every day, but a different alley. Always off to the very edge of the city, but every time he seemed to move further and further into it. In the times Peter waited he usually played around on his phone, anxiously looking around at any sound he felt didn’t belong there. It was boring, tedious stuff. He sometimes fell asleep, but he always, always woke up just in time. Almost like it was planned.
He wasn’t a tall man, exactly, Peter placed him at 5’9, 5’10 if he felt nice. But he was incredibly bulky. Noticeably so. Even with all the layers of clothes he usually wore, it wasn’t hard to know that he was naturally strong. Even without his freaky ‘powers’, although Peter disliked that word. Made it feel like this wasn’t serious work. Peter wasn’t able to get a good look at his face, he was always looking down, purposefully hiding it. The only thing Peter could see was the man’s fangs. Impossibly long and sharp, protruding out of where his canines should be. Peter didn’t know the man's voice either, aside from the disgusted groans the man made while sucking on a rat. He seemed too high fashion for that. Truth be told, Peter had seen weirder things, but the man just looked too out of place, too aware, too uncomfortable. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this, he wasn’t supposed to be here.
The first time Peter saw the man he was doing a shot. A couple had offered to pose for him in their new apartment, a small thing for his upcoming book. It was yet another simple picture, Peter would be hanging out on the roof of the building opposite theirs, the couple dancing through their apartment, and Peter would simply snap a photo while they danced. Giving the illusion that he just happened to catch them in a loving, vulnerable moment. It was late in the night, too late, he couldn’t remember why it was so late. And he was just setting everything up, maybe the lighting was the best at night. Maybe the usage of the apartment's lights gave the photo a different feel, it doesn’t matter anymore. It stopped mattering when Peter heard the start of a scream, only for it to be choked up and drawn out. Peter forgot everything about his camera and the shoot, instead, he looked around, searching for the cause of it. A few apartments down he saw them. The man had the guy's head bent back, exposing his neck, the man’s face noticeably forced into it. Peter slid down the fire escape, trying to make as little sound as possible. He quietly got closer, the guy's eyes clearly on Peter as he struggled to make a sound. There was nothing Peter could have done, but he still approached, quietly praying. The closer he got the louder the sounds around him became. He could hear the man sucking on the guy’s throat, the gross sounds of the man’s saliva, and the guy’s blood mixing. The guy was trying to beat the man off of him, pathetically scratching at his clothes, hitting him with small, dull punches. Peter stood a few feet away, staring at what was happening, not moving. The guy was still looking at him, directly in the eyes, whimpering as the man continued to feed on him. Peter still had his camera around his neck. He brought it up to his eyes and took a photo. The flash of the light caused the man to stop feeding, turning around, and shielding his face with his arm. Peter wasn’t sure, but he swears the man hissed at him. The guy dropped to the ground, as the man fled further into the alleyway. Peter rushed towards the guy, quickly calling emergencies.
He was left with a shaky, extremely shitty picture. Bright red eyes looked at him, the only noticeable feature as the shapes had fused while developing it.
After that, Peter came to the same neighborhood, almost every day, almost always seeing the man.
He never saw the man feed on humans after the first night, instead, he always saw him sucking on gross rats. Almost always the man would noticeably try not to throw up, struggling to get passed even one rat. One night, Peter saw him walking with a big bag. The man stood in a random corner, slowly taking out the bag's contents. About four packages of bloody, raw steaks. Peter had to use all of his willpower not to burst out laughing as he saw this scary, huge man quietly suck on the steaks like they were a juice box. He had too many pictures. Most were close-ups of the man’s teeth catching the moment he bit into the rats. The others were incoherent, shaky, and blurry from Peter freaking out, sure that the man had turned to look at him.
Almost every day, for almost 4 months, Peter would sit on a random roof, waiting or watching the man, almost hypnotized.
“Excuse me! Sir!”
He fell asleep.
“Huh?” Peter bolted awake, looking around wildly searching for the voice. “Yeah? What’s up, what happened?” He turned towards the edge. Below him, a man wearing a dark blue suit looked up at him. A woman wearing a beige fur coat and pink, heart-shaped sunglasses smiled smugly next to him.
“What are you doing up there.” The man sounded annoyed more than anything, hard lines on his face made Peter question whether he was frowning, or if that was just his natural look.
“Who’s asking?”
“A customer!” The woman called out, snickering at the man.
“Huh?”
“You’re Peter Parker, right?” He harden his tone, speaking a bit more forceful than before.
“Yeah?”
The man laughed, clearly annoyed at Peter’s lack of cooperation. “Can you come down? I. We. We want to talk to you.”
Peter frowned at them, slowly rising to his feet. He gave the man and the woman a quick overlook. They looked out of place. Outfits too fancy for an alleyway, and too professional for scammers. Too boring for criminals. The woman's pink glasses were the only thing that drew Peter in, she was a bit more playful than the man. She leaned into him, not in a romantic way, more in a familiar way. The type you only do with close friends you love to anger. Peter looked around and slowly descended the fire escape. “Who told you I was here.”
“I have my ways.” The woman laughed, straining a smile.
“You do photography, right?”
Peter stayed close to the building. “Yeah?”
“We want to, um, hire you.”
“And who are you.”
“This is Lyla, my assistant,” The man pointed to her, who then mockingly bowed, rolling her wrist as she did. “My name is Miguel O’Hara.”
“No, shit, like the scientist?”
“Exactly like the scientist!” Miguel groaned at Lyla, he stepped over her and walked towards Peter.
“What type of job?”
“Miguel here,” Lyla put her hand on his shoulder, stopping him. She latched onto his arm, leaning into him, placing her face almost on his chest. “He’s running an experiment, on DNA and animals, you know? He’s gonna release a book, but he’s super bad at taking pictures. So,” Peter could see that her grip tighten, she wasn’t holding lovingly to him. She was almost restraining him. “So! I suggested you! You are well-known in the field aren’t you?”
“I’m not an animal photographer.” There was something wrong. This whole interaction was wrong, unnatural.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter that much! Your job is just to make Miguel look good, you know? Make it seem like he’s doing very important, scientific stuff.” The whole time she talked, Miguel stared at Peter. His body was rigid against her, a pair of dark, circular sunglasses hiding his eyes. It felt like Miguel was studying him, almost like he expected Peter to flee, ready to chase after him.
“I,” Peter looked around, the people were quickly decreasing, the lights and sounds of the main street slowly shutting off, “Can we schedule a meeting? In a better place.”
Her grip tightens again, “Sure we can! What’s the best way to contact you?” She smiled warmly, a sharp contrast to how stiff her body was.
“I have a website, just look up my name. There’s an email there.”
“Oh!” She laughed awkwardly, “Duh! I don’t know why I didn’t think of that!”
“You found my exact location, but didn’t think to look me up online?”
“What can I say? Your brain gets kinda messed up after working for these science types” Miguel finally looked away from Peter, he turned to look at Lyla and rolled his eyes. “We apologize for meeting you so abruptly! Hopefully, we didn’t ruin whatever shot you wanted to take, right Miguel?”
“Right. I. We hope to talk to you soon.” There was a tension to his tone, an unnatural flare to it. He spoke in a professional matter, and every mistake he made seemed more like a deliberate choice, almost letting Peter in on his true intentions.
“Right…” Peter gripped his camera, holding it close to his chest. It was difficult to make him feel uneasy, most of the weird things he encountered just made him laugh, reminded him of what a particular city New York was. However, this entire interaction made him feel uncomfortable. The way Miguel never seemed to blink, focusing solely on him. The way Lyla was holding on to him was similar to how an owner holds on to their reactive dog’s leash. The only time he had felt this uncomfortable was that first night when red eyes were the only thing he could capture.
“We’ll see you later, Parker.”
“It was nice to meet you! I’ll email you tomorrow, maybe around 4. Alright?” They walked further into the alley, Lyla waved goodnight and finally loosed her grip on Miguel. Peter stood still, simply watching as they walked. Almost expecting Miguel to shoot a final look at him. But he didn’t, and soon Peter lost sight of them. When he checked the time on his phone it was well past 12.
“Shit, ugh.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking around. Paranoid that the man would suddenly come out, finally realizing Peter’s nightmares. He grabbed all of his belongings and made his way home. Already dreading the upcoming email.
*
*
*
It was the usual corporate email. Peter had received tons of them, going over some basic information, such as the tone, the purpose, for how long, how much they were willing to pay, etc. Lyla’s personality almost leaked from the email, overusing exclamation points, regular spelling mistakes, and even signing the email with different emoticons. In her last email, she suggested a meeting over coffee. Just the three of them, discussing exactly how Peter was to portray Miguel, and just getting to know each other better.
Last minute, as Peter was turning the corner for the coffee shop, Lyla sent him an email. She couldn’t make it. Something about work. So it would just be him and Miguel. Peter almost turned around, thinking of different excuses he could give. None of them were good. It was a crowded coffee shop, the popular kind in which almost every important person holds meetings at. So Peter started to do breathing exercises and entered.
It wasn’t hard to spot him. Miguel wasn’t that tall, but he was strong. While most yuppies worked out simply for the illusion of strength, it was obvious Miguel worked out because he wanted to be the strongest person in the room. He was wearing a black turtleneck, his black, greying hair was slicked back, a few strands hanging fancily on his face. Still wearing the same circular sunglasses, even though the coffee shop was badly illuminated. He was scanning the place, a coffee growing cold next to him. Once he finally spotted Peter, he straighten his posture, waving awkwardly. Strange.
Peter nodded at him and made his way toward Miguel, suddenly aware of how everyone was staring at him. “I’m not late or anything, right?’
“No, I just wanted to have some time to myself before we talked.”
“This place any good?”
“S’alright. Overpriced, but that’s to be expected.”
“Hmh. You recommend anything?”
“I only have black coffee.”
Peter mumbled, “Of course you do,” before clearing his throat and calling a waitress over. “Can I just have a cappuccino? Thanks.”
“So, are you gonna accept the job?”
“I thought this interview was because I had already accepted the job. Lyla said it was to get to know each other better.”
“You can always back away. If you decide that our personalities are not. Compatible.”
“Oh that’s nice, I didn’t know that was an option. I thought I just had to suck it up.”
“And make the both of us miserable?” Peter wasn’t sure if the friendly, casual nature of their conversation was real, or if it was caused because Miguel was near others. It was a sharp contrast to how he had behaved in the alleyway. No longer carrying an overtly threatening aura, but instead one more similar to an overworked, tired boss.
“So. What? Do I just follow you around your lab? Take random pictures of what I think looks cool?”
“Sorta. You would come to the lab ‘a couple of days and just keep track of my progress. Of course, I’ll let you know if there’s something important you need to keep your eye on.”
“Lyla mentioned that this was more of a, personal, book. Told me it was important to capture your essence.”
“That’s what she wants to do. I don’t particularly care for that. She thinks that any well-known scientist mixes his genius with his personality. She wants me to mix in my personal life since all my ‘science talk’ isn’t attractive to the public.” He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes looking into Peter, a bit softer than before, but it still made Peter’s skin crawl. “I’m sure you know of Tyler Stone, and Reed Richards, and the like. She wants me to do something like that.”
“That could be good, right? Get your name out there.”
When he spoke there was a tension in his mouth. It was noticeable that he tried his best not to open his mouth too wide, making the conversation awkward and uncomfortable. He smiled with his mouth closed, very clearly annoyed at Peter. “Yeah, well.” He let out a long sigh, “I think that making yourself a celebrity is the death of someone’s scientific work. It shows that they placed their ego above their intelligence.”
“So then why hire me?”
“Because she’s a big fan of yours. Oh, about that, I wanted to apologize for my behavior last we met. I had just gotten off of work and Lyla was insistent that we went to talk to you, so I wanted to apologize if I was angry or threatening in some way. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s fine,” Peter hadn’t noticed that his cappuccino was to the right of him, “I understand, you know? Long day at work, who wants to be dragged out into a dirty alleyway?” He sipped it, already starting to grow cold.
“Right…I don’t mean to intrude, but what were you doing on that roof?”
Peter almost choked on his coffee, he cleared his throat and awkwardly laughed. “I was waiting for the perfect shot, just. Just pretentious art stuff.”
“Hmh. I’m sorry if we disturbed you. Lyla told me that you have been in that area lot lately. I’m assuming you’re doing a series on…?”
“Oh you know, the squalor and darker parts of the city. I photograph the nicer parts a lot, mostly parks and other high-end places. I wanted to do a series where I can still bring in the. Comfort and vulnerability in places most New Yorkers are ashamed of and disgusted by.” It was kinda true, that was, at least, the original idea the couple had placed in his mind. Way before it became a boogieman hunt.
There was a strain on Miguel’s smile, he didn’t believe him, not completely. “That’s quite…Honorable. I’m sure Lyla will let me know when you publish it. I’ll be looking forward to it.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t juggle both projects at once, you’ll have to wait a bit.” For the first time, Peter noticed how unnaturally quiet the coffee shop was. Not to the point where it became obvious that people were listening in on the conversation, it was more that everyone was anxiously waiting for something to go wrong. Peter swore every so often someone would shoot him a nervous look from the surrounding tables, almost like they were making sure everything was going okay.
“Lyla mentioned that you could do any time, could you do nighttime? I tend to work best after it gets dark, at about nine pm. I could always do it early if that’s too late.”
“No, nine is fine. I tend to work after eight since that’s when we put my kid to sleep, so nine works great, actually.”
“Oh. You have a kid. Congrats.” Miguel became physically uncomfortable at the mention of Mayday, shrinking into himself. The entire talk he had been sitting upright, towering over Peter’s poor posture. Yet at the mention of a kid, he slouched on his chair, almost putting his head down shamefully.
“Thanks. She just turned 18 months. Do you,” Peter straighten his posture, getting closer to the table and Miguel, “Do you want to see her?”
“Um. Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Miguel nervously moved towards Peter.
“Look,” Peter shoved the phone up to Miguel, “Here she is being a cowboy, she has a rocking horse and she loves it, completely loves it. Here she is posing her new clothes, she’s such a little model, you know? I feel like she could really be something big! Oh! And here she is in her visit to the park-”
“Who is that, the red-haired woman? Your wife I presume.”
“Yeah,” Peter laughed lovingly, by now fully leaning into the table, smiling while focusing on Mary Jane helping Mayday walk. “That’s Mary Jane, high school sweethearts. Love of my life. We got married two years ago, really funny story actually.” Peter turned to look at Miguel. He was staring blankly at the screen, his glasses slipping a little. Dark brown eyes were quickly hidden by Miguel sitting upright and away from the phone, his posture back to how it was.
“Well, congratulations.” He sat back, shifting awkwardly in his seat.
Peter slowly set down his phone, “How about you? Any family?”
“A brother, we don’t talk much. I have Lyla.”
“That’s…Nice. She has a good personality.”
Miguel simply stared at him. “Would you mind coming in tomorrow? At nine like I said. I’ll show you around the lab. Lyla will email you the information.”
“How about I give you my phone number, cut Lyla some slack.”
He was still staring at Peter. “Sure. Although I’m not sure how I feel about mixing my personal life with my work so early. Feels like she won already.”
Peter smiled awkwardly, took out a pen, and wrote his phone number on a napkin. “So, what? That’s it?”
“Yeah,” Miguel took the paper and looked at it for a while. Neatly folding it, he turned to Peter, the same cold stare, a slight frown on his lips. “Yeah, I’ll see you, Parker.”
“Cool…See you, O’hara.” He quickly got up.
Weirdo.
*
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*
It was quieter than usual. Mayday had gone to bed later, in part because Peter didn’t want to put down Zelda, and Mayday didn’t want to stop watching. He was already placed on the roof of a random building, staring off into nothing. Thinking about different things. How cute Mayday looked mimicking Link’s sounds, how strange those scientists were. Most were about the man. What he could be, who he could be, why he chose this alley. Why did he return to it even after Peter caught him? What would Peter do if the man saw him, would he run? Would he stay in place paralyzed? Thought after thought raced in his head before he heard it. The grainy sound of soles on the awful, broken-up concrete. Heels trying to keep up, struggling to maintain pace with the shoes. And from the corner of his eye, he saw them. The man, his face down, walking fast with a woman by his side. Some college girl, dressed in skimpy clothes, clearly going on a bender with her friends, close by his side. They slowed down near a random building, a bit down from where Peter was staying. He couldn’t really tell what was going on, but it seemed like they were talking. Peter edged closer to the building, his camera tightly by his chest. They were kissing now, the woman hung her arms around the man and her knees seemed to give out. Peter could see how the man slowly started to kiss her jawline, going down to her neck. Peter stared, transfixed at what was happening, feeling like he should do something. Anything. Maybe scream out and quickly hide. But what would he scream? Maybe he should rush to her. And then do what? Snap another photo of the man? What if it wasn’t the man? What if it was some drunkard that got lucky? He was still kissing her neck, the girl clearly into it as she stretched her neck out more. Peter slowly descended the fire escape. Quietly. Getting closer to the man and the woman. Stopping when there was only one building between them, Peter was directly across from the kissing. The woman said ow! before laughing, telling the man to not bite her. Peter placed the camera right up to his face, watching now through it.
Ow! She cried again, harsher now. I told you to stop biting me! Get off of me! The man had her pressed against him, his face resting fully on her neck. Stop it, creep! He stood still for a bit, before sharping tugging her hair and raising his face. The man’s mouth was fully open, sharp, long teeth shining against the darkness. The woman started to cry out but he bit her. Peter could see how his teeth grabbed and pulled skin, how the man's throat started to swallow the blood. She was trying to cry out, trying to make any sound, but she couldn’t. Pathetic pleas escaped her. Like an animal that figured out it's about to die. She clawed at his clothes, kicking him with her knees. But he wouldn’t move.
Peter had taken off everything that alerted people he was taking a photo. The sound wasn’t a big deal, but the light. That was a hard decision, it compromised his ability to take good pictures. Now they would be grainy, utilizing the natural light of places. But it was for his safety. He tried to take as many pictures as he could, snapping them one after the other. Thanking that he had to grab his digital camera last minute. It was slow and tedious, the man never seemed to get enough, and as the poor girl lost her strength, he followed her body to the ground. Finally, he broke away from her neck, and the girl fell to the floor with a shallow thud. The man had a stream of blood leaking out of his mouth, completely staining his clothes. He wiped away some of it, before looking around frenziedly. His eyes landed on the body of the girl, and he simply stared at her for a while. He started to slowly back away and fled in horror as Peter hid behind the building. After he made sure that the man was gone, he slowly approached the girl. He kneeled and found her phone in one of her pockets and called nine one one. The girl was still breathing, her face turned to show the marks the man had left her. Peter looked down at her, eyes wide open, sweating like a hog despite the cool temperature. And he snapped one final photo, walking in the direction he had come from, back home.