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The kid let out a gasp and threw up all over himself the moment they saw the guy.
Frank had seen Peter shaken before, found him bundled up in a ball crying and half-starving. They had both been broken before and had tried to rebuild even with the hell that was their minds. The kid was someone who tried to help others, help him, despite how he barely loved himself.
So when they were walking down the street together and the boy froze he immediately wanted to shoot the bastard. Peter crumbled, his body becoming unnaturally stiff and his pupils blowing out as if he'd taken a hit of something. The rat that was making the spider feel this way gave off creep. He smelled like an utter slime ball.
"Sorry," The stranger dared to speak as he noticed the staring match going on. "Do we know each other?"
Cleaning up chunks of food and stomach acid off of a shaking boy who could crush your spine if upset enough was easier than it sounded. Even in his panic Peter made sure to be careful with how he squeezed Frank's gloved hand and apologized in between gasps for his behaviour. Frank hated the way the hero curled into himself and stared at the ceiling like he was a piece of garbage.
He was flinching the entire time they made their way back to the older man's hideout. Peter trembled, his spider senses going wild as he kept looking back and asking him in whispers if the stranger followed them. With a look in his eyes that made the killer's trigger finger itch. He recognized that stare in the faces of women he saved from sleezy pigs on late-night strolls.
"I'm sorry. He–" The hero shuddered and closed his mouth tightly as he shut himself out.
Frank didn't try to force him to speak as they both knew what this was. The man hadn't realized who Peter was of course but he was frightened at the idea of what the boy recognized him from. His face had turned green like he wanted to throw up himself and he hurried across the street when the lights turned red. That was the look of a guilty man who feared he had finally been confronted by his bitter past. A past filled with many victims.
Peter hung his head and muttered to himself more so than Frank. "His face has gotten older and he even has gray hair now but he sounds the same."
He hugged himself as he finished talking with that being the end of the discussion that evening. But it wasn't anything to stop the older man from digging. Creeps like that always had a social media account. A teacher of the year award.
Blog posts detailing their vacations with their oblivious wives or husbands who had no idea why their cards had charges near a school. Frank found the man easily, posting with his IP directly linked to the photos of him and his so-called mentees.
Boys who were in middle school pursuing computer science degrees that attended the bastard's coding classes. Peter loved science, the spider annoyed him to death with rambling about inventions he was trying to make.
Frank grit his teeth as he read the way this man, Skip, talked about these students. How he focused on strange details like their uniqueness and their above-average intelligence that put them on the same level as middle-aged men.
Men like this deserved to be riddled with bullets.
Skip tried to run but one shot to the bastard's kneecap sent him crawling around the floor. Sniffling with snot covering his face like the children he took advantage of as he begged for his life. He kept telling Frank he had no idea who Peter was or what he did to make the boy so scared. But his eyes, the look told him otherwise.
He may not remember his name or his face or even what happened but the guilt was there. The way he stuttered when claiming he never would touch a child that way, despite the photos on his laptop Frank caught him on, blew up the lie. Killing him with a shot to the head was a mercy he did so the spider wouldn't feel guilty when he found out.