Work Text:
The truths we hide
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Crack.
Peter bit down on stone dust.
Crack.
He coughed, head rattling against the concrete.
Crack.
Stars erupted behind his eyes, the edges of his vision blackening. The Hulk roared, muscles rippling as he lifted Peter’s head once more, crashing it into the debris.
Snap.
Peter blinked as his ears rang. His fingers twitched. He coughed, reaching fruitlessly for the back of his head. His fingers fumbled on the base of his neck, spine intact – the inhibitor. The fragmented pieces slipped through his grip.
Warning. Arachnid hormones increasing.
Heat flooded through him, coursing from his chest down his legs and into his feet. He flexed his hands as the muscles within his arms trembled. The ringing in his ears grew, drowning out everything but the pounding of his heart and his own heaving breaths.
A coil wound tighter within him.
The Hulk slammed his head into rubble. Peter – Spider-Man – ground his jaw. There was blood in his mouth. He licked it from his teeth as Hulk went to bash his head again.
Spider-Man locked his muscles as he grabbed hold of Hulk’s arm. The coil inside him wound tighter. Hulk strained, the whites of his eyes flashing.
“Not. Puny. Spider.” The Hulk rumbled, his massive form stepping back. Spider-Man let him go.
He sprang to his feet, crouched and rolled his shoulders. The bones shifted, cracked, and popped. Spider-Man flared his hands – his wrists – and the web shooters fell off. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Hulk. Hulk’s head was titled, brow pinched. More than the simple beast Banner made him out to be. More than just a monster. Calculating. Thoughtful.
Spider-Man grinned, the motion lost under the mask.
“No,” he agreed. “Not puny. Not anymore.”
Arachnid hormones surpassing maximum limit. Peter–
“Spider will play?” Hulk’s lips curved upward, baring the approximation of a smile.
Spider-Man flung himself forward, tackling the Hulk.
The combined force of his strength and the rubble still webbed to the green behemoth sent them both careening through the hole in the side of the building.
Spider-Man wound his legs around Hulk’s neck, squeezing tight as he raised his fists. He couldn’t care less that they were falling from a height hundreds of feet up. He didn’t care that the mass of concrete and rebar yanking them downwards would pulverize anything below.
His blood sang, the coil within creaking.
He slammed his fists into Hulk’s face. The force cracked his head sideways. Once. Twice. A third time and into a fourth, wind whipping by as they hurriedly reached terminal velocity. A fifth, a sixth. Hulk snarled, grin gone as he clawed at Spider-Man’s suit, grabbing at his waist – anything to tear him off. Seven. Eight. Spider-Man locked his ankles, squeezing tighter. They were in this together. Nine. Ten. There was blood, smooth and slick, underneath his suit, coating his split knuckles from Hulk’s barred teeth. Eleven. Twelve. Hulk gave up on trying to rip him off and slammed a hand into Spider-Man’s side. Spider-Man caught the arm with one hand and laughed, tasting the blood in his own mouth. Thirteen, Fourteen. Hulk sputtered and writhed, complexion paling. Spider-Man didn’t stop. Fifteen. Sixteen. A blood vessel burst within Bruce Banner’s nose as the Hulk partially retreated.
“Spider-Man?” He warbled. “What? How did–”
The mass of debris crashed, sending a shockwave of dirt and dust. Spider-Man detached and flung himself sideways, careening into the side of the building, bracing against cracked façade just as the Hulk struck ground. A second shockwave surged forth, with a resounding boom that made all else go quiet.
Spider-Man jumped, landing hard. A piece of rebar-filled concrete crumbled under his feet.
Bruce lay there, barely conscious and barely scratched considering the impact he’d just taken. He should have been no more than a smear on the concrete. But the only blood he had on him was from his nose – from Spider-Man and not the hundred-story fall. The Hulk was truly a beast to be reckoned with.
Denotation imminent.
Peter curled his lip, gaze snapping upwards as the explosion rocked the higher floors.
Bruce was sitting up in the rubble.
“What happened – Spider-Man? Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”
Spider-Man breathed out slowly, trying to calm the storm within him. He was shaking. He knew he should go check on Frank and stop Jean. He knew it in his mind, but his body, his blood screamed at him to see this through. His fists ached to continue.
“Banner,” Spider-Man rasped, swallowing whatever was clawing up at him from the inside. “You’re back.”
Bruce’s eyes roamed from the mask, to Spider-Man’s blooded fists before he brought his hand to his face, feeling the blood smeared over his nose and mouth.
“I’m bleeding,” Bruce stated, staring at his own fingers in confusion. “I can’t be bleeding. Get away! Not again!”
Spider-Man cocked his head and analyzed his hands. Ah. It was easy to pick out the gamma radiation active within Bruce’s blood. He didn’t know what it would do to him – if it would do anything at all. He found he didn’t care.
Cobalt-60 isotope residue detected. Neutralizing with iodine dose. Recommended action: remove clothing immediately.
“The Hulk didn’t bleed,” Spider-Man reminded. That would likely be worse. Higher concentrations of gamma. But damn if he hadn’t wanted to make it happen. Spider-Man curled his fingers to settle the urge to keep attacking. He bounded up a nearby shard of cement and perched atop it. His fingers dug at the concrete through the suit.
“Did you–” Bruce began, before shaking his head. “You did this. The Hulk – he left? He hasn’t, not since…”
Spider-Man shrugged. “He wanted to… play. He asked for it.”
Bruce’s eyes widened.
“That’s not funny,” Bruce rasped, clearing his throat. Spider-Man didn’t move. Sirens from ambulances and police cruisers sounded. Fire trucks unspooled their hoses. Radios clicked with codded chatter. Many frantic heartbeats, filled with panic and fear as police shouted, setting up barricades. But they were far enough. No one had been caught in the rubble.
“You’re not joking,” Bruce realized as he pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled. “What’s wrong with you? Spider-Man isn’t like this. He’s not – you’re not–”
Spider-Man licked cracked lips under the mask, dialing back to Bruce. “Not what?”
Bruce stepped forward until they were close enough to touch. His eyes were so kind, even as his words burned like acid.
“Brutal.”
Spider-Man leapt from the top of the slab and landed behind Bruce. He let out a grating laugh. “Shows what you know – what anyone knows. My inhibitor broke. You’re looking at me. Don’t you know what it’s like to be a monster?”
He didn’t wait for a reply as he gathered his strength and soared, clearing halfway up the high-rise as the ground cratered beneath him. He slammed into the side of the building, frame creaking as he braced and bounded the remaining amount. As soon as he was level, he grimaced and flung a biological web inside, yanking himself through the facility.
“Jean, you don’t have to do this.” Bill Metzger’s hands were raised above his head.
Spider-Man fumbled his web and crashed unsteadily, feet first, into the side of the vault. Metal bent and groaned beneath him. Inside, everyone jolted. Frank was pressing a gun against Metzger’s temple.
Jean turned and launched her mind at him.
Perhaps she thought that since Spider-Man couldn’t sense her anymore, that it might work. Or maybe she had been just startled, or thought he would be.
The door opened to darkness.
That was enough. He launched her out. She staggered, gripping her head.
“What – what was,” she mumbled.
Frank lowered the gun and stepped back. “Oh fuck. Not again.”
Spider-Man was on her, pining her to the ground. He eyed the universal inhibiter, sighed, and stuck it on the back of her neck, locking it in place with a fragment of web. He dragged himself up, skin itching. It was over, and yet why did it feel like he lost?
His hand swung out just in time to catch the blue feathered needle just before it hit Jean. He pinched it and it cracked, dripping. Odourless. Colourless. A sedative.
“You don’t need that,” he warned.
Metzger stepped forward. “Just trying to keep everyone safe.”
A hitch in his heart rate.
Spider-Man cocked his head. Metzger’s men were subtly signaling each other, stepping around to create a perimeter.
“What’s the matter? You won – we won,” Metzger insisted.
Jean crawled to her knees. She didn’t seem to notice the inhibitor. She was murmuring to herself, her heart fluttering and unsteady.
Frank glanced around. “What’s going on? Spider-Man?”
Spider-Man closed his eyes. He tried to center himself and decipher the unease roiling through his gut. But that coil – wound tighter and tighter and tighter – couldn’t take it. It snapped.
He snapped.
Four moves. Four groaning bodies. Not dead, but close enough.
He’d kicked the closest guard hard enough to feel four ribs crack and puncture a lung in the process. The guard behind him, caught his fellow, dazed, and didn’t react as Spider-Man grabbed him by the head and forced him in the wall in a single motion. Blood dripped from the back of his head. Before he slumped, Spider-Man spun and elbowed the third guard in the throat, bruising his larynx and suffocating him as the he clutched his neck, sinking to his knees. He hadn’t even wheezed before Spider-Man latched his other hand around the back of Metzger’s neck, slamming the man face-first into the floor. He was out cold the second he made contact, blood pooling from his cracked nose. Maybe a cracked skull. Not a single one had enough time to make a sound.
“Holy shit,” Frank yelled, head snapping around as he took in the guards. Spider-Man was already standing over Jean by the time Frank’s eyes landed on him. “I thought those were your buddies.”
Arachnid hormones stabilized at heightened levels. Running scan.
He yanked Jean up by her shirt.
“Jean,” Spider-Man stated, without emotion. He couldn’t afford to be angry. If he did, he didn’t know what he would do. Not after everything she did to him and MJ and those poor people.
Her eyes were glazed as they roamed around, unfocused. She stumbled in his hold.
“So dark. So dark. I can’t see.” She started screaming. “How do you see?”
Spider-Man dragged her alongside him. She tried to pry his fingers free and squirm away. He didn’t feel it.
“Yo, what the fuck. Hold on. What are you doing?” Frank stomped after them.
Spider-Man turned, goggles whirring as he narrowed his gaze. He released Jean who landed hard on her side. She groaned and began to slowly crawl away, pawing at the floor in front of her.
“Go home Frank,” Spider-Man echoed his earlier words, though without the levity. “Get MJ home safe. Don’t come looking.”
“The fuck with that! Is it that thing you were working on?” Frank gestured to the back of his neck. “Is that why you’re like this?”
Scan complete. Current inhibitor design rendered ineffective at new baseline enhancements.
Spider-Man clenched his jaw.
“The Hulk broke it. So what? I’m fine – they,” Spider-Man gestured to the men on the floor, “were lying through their teeth. Something’s not adding up and I’m going to find out what.” He couldn’t help the sneer that came out near the end.
“You’re not fine,” Frank snarked. “You don’t do this shit. This ain’t you.”
Spider-Man’s jaw cracked.
“You think you know me, Frank? You and all the rest. You don’t know anything. No one does, because I made it that way! Do you understand? Not one person knows my name because of what I did. And this is what I get for it.” His throat was dry. He cleared it.
“Hold up,” Frank waved a hand. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Spider-Man swallowed, trying to get a grip. “The inhibitor. I need it because the spider part of me is taking over. It makes me…”
Angry.
Strong.
Unpredictable.
Deadly.
“Volatile.”
“Well no fucking shit, Sherlock. Just calm down and come back to my place and you’ll fix yourself up another one.”
“I can’t.”
“The fuck you mean you can’t?”
Spider-Man shook his head, tensing at the other man’s increasing heart rate. Frank’s anger was just going to make this worse. Spider-Man was itching for something. To move. To fight. To do anything but sit here and talk and–
“What I mean, Frank, is that I can’t. Now you’re going to do what I said before I make you.”
Frank blinked, before a lazy smile spread across his lips. “You’ll make me. Please kid, don’t make me laugh. While you were in diapers, I’ve lived through shit you can’t even imagine in your nightmares–”
Spider-Man swiped the gun from Frank’s holster. He stumbled, barely reacting in time to fumble for the empty pouch.
“Neat trick. It’s not like you’ll shoot it.”
“What are you going to do against me Frank? You want to try this again? Without this–” Spider-Man clutched the barrel in his hand and squeezed. “You’re nothing.”
The barrel crumpled before the pressure popped and sparked the loaded bullet like a firecracker in his hand. He didn’t flinch. The smoke curled through his fingers before he dropped the mangled handgun, now a useless hunk of metal.
The silence stretched between them, the only sound Jean’s sniveling as she dragged herself further away. Not that she was getting far.
Frank gave a dry laugh. “Alright. I get it. Something’s off with you. I’ll give you a pass. But it don’t mean shit. You’re gonna come back with me and fix your shit and deal with your girl yourself, because I’m not a fucking babysitter.”
Frank stepped forward and placed a hand on Spider-Man’s shoulder, intent on guiding him away.
Spider-Man grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back.
Frank crashed hard, right next to where Jean had huddled. She screamed and he huffed, pushing himself up. He glanced back at Jean, taking a stand between them.
“So that’s how it is?”
“Frank.” It was a warning.
Frank didn’t heed it as he sent a punch towards Spider-Man’s face. The masked vigilante caught it. Frank tried to yank his fist back. Spider-Man didn’t let go.
Frank huffed and tried to free his hand again. Failed.
He sighed and sent his other fist into Spider-Man’s face. He let it connect. Frank had a good arm and a better swing. Spider-Man didn’t budge even as he felt his lip split under his mask.
The Punisher punched him again. And again. His knuckles split and sprayed Spider-Man’s mask. He did not move and he didn’t let Frank go as he continued to punch with abandon. Spider-Man tightened his hold on Frank’s other fist, feeling the bones creak. Far too easy to snap.
Frank bared his teeth. He shook out his bloodied hand.
Spider-Man tightened his fist further while twisting Frank’s arm aside. “You really don’t want me to hit you back.”
“Fuck. Where was this side of you a few years ago? New York could have used some of that.”
Frank’s little finger cracked.
He snarled, lip curling. “This is the shit you’re pulling now? Trying to be all tough like your vigilante friend in Hell’s Kitchen–”
Spider-Man released his fist and shoved Frank away. The pinky was already darkening with a bruise, the skin flush and beginning to swell.
“I have no friends.”
Spider-Man turned. Jean was huddled against a wall, one hand prying at the inhibitor while the other rubbed at her face. Spider-Man walked up to her, feeling nothing but a strange void in his chest.
“Get up.”
She jolted, squinting at him. “What did you do to me?”
He didn’t answer, choosing instead to grab her arm and haul her up. She squirmed, but his grip was iron.
“Let go of me–”
“Quiet,” Spider-Man hissed. He barely refrained from throwing her across the room. “You’re lucky to not be in the hands of Damage Control right now. I don’t get it, but they were far too desperate to get ahold of you. Maybe I should leave you to them, after what you did with MJ.”
Jean swallowed, throat bobbing.
She blinked up at him, eyes focusing. A shiver wracked through her.
“Right. You’re right.” She bit her lip and looked away. “You’re hurting me.”
Spider-Man loosened his grip. He did not let go. As he walked towards the gaping hole in the building he dragged her with him.
A muffled click.
Spider-Man leaned to the side. A bullet flew by his face. He scrutinized Frank, but he was flattened against the wall, no gun in sight.
One of the previously incapacitated guards had dragged a gun from his holster. He was shooting from his prone place on the floor. He was sweating, shaking and in obvious pain. His finger depressed the trigger again, the handgun jolted. Spider-Man veered as another bullet soared by.
He flexed his fingers.
The Punisher sprang forward, kicking the guard in the head. He slumped, out cold.
Frank shot a glance over his shoulder.
“It’s time to get out of here. But you and I aren’t finished.”
Spider-Man didn’t respond, pulling Jean alongside him.
“Whoa, whoa,” Jean stumbled against his hold. “Where are we going?”
“Grab on,” Spider-Man advised as they reached the edge. “Or you’re going to dislocate your arm.”
He jumped.
Jean screamed as she was yanked with him. She scrambled to wrap her legs and arms around him before a crashing jolt coursed through them.
Spider-Man didn’t wait for her to get comfortable. He leapt again, to another building a block away.
Jean squeezed tighter and buried her face into his neck. Her heart rate was surging, rattling enough for a normal person to feel the thump where she pressed into him.
“Why aren’t–” She yelled into his shoulder as they landed. Spider-Man was already airborne by the time she found her words.
“–you swinging?”
Another landing. Another jump.
“Because it scares you.”
It was only partially true.
Jean pulled her face away long enough to give him a wide-eyed stare.
“Are you serious?”
Spider-Man landed hard on the street below. Concrete cracked as daylight splintered through the buildings. He found a shadow of a smile quirking his lips before he replied.
“I’m not used to the natural webs. I try swinging, you likely break every bone in your body.”
She paled.
“But with MJ–”
“I had a reason to focus.”
Spider-Man gathered himself and made one last jump to his apartment building a couple blocks away. For better or worse, he had no secrets from Jean.
Just anger.
No sooner than his feet touched the roof did he peel off Jean’s legs from around his waist.
“You try to run, and I will break something. Ankle? Femur? Don’t make me decide.”
He let go.
She staggered away, clutching at her arm. Spider-Man sensed the flushed skin from his hold. She would bruise badly, but bruises went away.
He nodded his head to the door. She shuffled towards it, fumbling on the handle. Spider-Man reached over and grabbed it for her. She flinched so hard that she knocked her head back on his chest before diving through the doorway.
“S-sorry,” she stumbled inside the dark attic he had made his own.
“Sit,” Spider-Man instructed, gesturing to the couch. He pulled off his mask, licking blood from a scab that tore open on his lip.
Jean huddled in on herself, curling inward as she brought her knees to her chest.
“What do you want?” Her voice was buried in her skin.
He barked a laugh. Now that was funny.
“What do I want? Nothing. I didn’t want any of this. You’re the one who brought his upon yourself – kidnapping old ladies and forcing them into tanks.” He scratched a hand through his hair, letting out a deep breath.
“You’re the one who needs to tell me what’s going on. Why does Damage Control want you? What is V-Max?”
She didn’t meet his eyes.
“I don’t know–”
“Jean.” He stepped closer.
She pressed herself deeper into the couch. “Please, wait. Don’t – don’t hurt me. They took my sister. I just want her back. She sent me a word. V-Max. That’s it. That’s everything, I promise. I promise.”
Her heart rate rattled at an elevated rate from her fear, but it was otherwise steady. No hitches. A bit of the tension left his shoulders.
Arachnid hormones have stabilized at heightened levels for an extended period of time. Would you like to run some tests?
“Not now, EV.” Spider-Man sat back into his desk chair.
Jean peaked at him.
“Is that an AI?”
He wasn’t wearing his mask. EV had spoken through his speakers.
“I am Peter’s friend.”
Jean snickered. “I can’t believe you programmed it to say that.”
“EV–”
“You have caused Peter extreme emotional and physical distress. Recommendation: neutralize threat.”
Jean stopped laughing. She pursed her lips and they quivered.
“Shit,” she whispered. Her voice hitched. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”
Spider-Man curled his fingers into the mask in his hand. He didn’t look at her.
“What’s your sister’s name?”
“Huh?”
“Your sister. Her name.”
“Sara.”
“EV, run a search in all available databases for Sara Grey. Pay special attention to Damage Control and any large holes in their data. What’s not there can tell us as much about what is.”
“Understood. Compiling.”
“Why are you helping me?”
Spider-Man sighed and ground his teeth.
“I don’t trust Damage Control.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I expected you to say something like: ‘it’s the right thing to do’.”
“Before, I would have. But now… I don’t care. I just want to know who’s responsible.”
Jean lowered her legs and leaned forward. “Responsible? For what?”
“For making you like this. You aren’t a monster, Jean.” He turned his chair away from his desk to face her. He didn’t miss the way she diverted her eyes from his. “Not like Banner. Not like me. You don’t have some beast inside you trying to break free. You don’t need that inhibitor to be normal.”
Spider-Man stared at formula for the inhibitor. He would have to modify it. He should destroy it. He couldn’t have both. He knew what the correct option was. But the first step would be trusting Jean enough to take hers off.
She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes.
“They took her because of what she could do. They’ll take me too. If that doesn’t make us monsters…”
“Cut the crap.” Spider-Man stood and was by her side so fast she didn’t have time to blink. He grabbed her chin. She averted her eyes, tears dripping from the corners and down her cheeks.
“You won’t even look at me. You think you’re a monster? Look at me!”
Jean flicked her eyes to his. She shuddered.
“Please. It’s dark. I look and it’s like I’m right back in there.”
He let her go. She curled away from him.
“There you have it. I let you in and you couldn’t even stand what’s in my head. That’s what it means to be a monster.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that–”
“Yes you did!” Spider-Man slammed a fist on the edge of the couch. The wood inside splintered and the armrest lobsided, collapsing partway to the floor. Her breath hitched but she didn’t move.
“Get over yourself and start doing things right. We’ll find your sister. Then you have to make a decision.”
He went back to his desk. He leaned over it, hands pressed to the wood.
“A decision?”
He was so sick and frustrated. Why didn’t she understand? She could choose to do good – with her abilities, she could stop crime and disaster in its tracks. She didn’t have some mutated DNA fighting to turn her into an awful predator.
But she was still dangerous. Far too dangerous. If she was going to continue along this path…
“That inhibitor is coming off. The only question is whether you make me pry it from your corpse.”
Her heartbeat stuttered as she jolted to her feet. She backstepped, colliding into the coffee table before slamming into the wall.
For better or for worse, he had no secrets from Jean. She knew him. She’d seen inside. He meant it.
“And what about you?” Despite her trembling heart, her voice had an edge of steel. “You’re falling apart. You can’t keep going like this. If you’re going to kill me, you better take a good long look in the mirror first.”
Spider-Man nodded, looking down into the eyes of the mask still in his hand. His own shadowed reflection showed him his own eyes, sclera black and complete.
“When this is over. No one will miss Peter. New York will have its Spider-Man until it realizes that Spider-Man is gone. After that…” He didn’t look at Jean as he dragged a thumb across his throat. He stared at the ceiling. It was still covered in webs from his irrational cocooning. “The world is yours, Jean Grey. You just have to decide to be good – do good with the gift you’ve been given.”
She shook her head, slipping down the wall to sit on the floor.
“I can’t – everything I’ve done–”
“Do better. Be better. My aunt – May, a day doesn’t go by that I don’t miss her – spent her last words reminding me of the most important lesson of my life. With great power, comes great responsibility. I know what my responsibility is here. Do you?”
“You’re insane. Completely, utterly insane. You’ll kill me and then yourself? To keep New York free of monsters? Think of everyone you put behind bars–”
“Small potatoes,” Spider-Man whispered, a smile ghosting his shadowed face.
“What? Potatoes? You know what – I don’t care.” She reached behind her neck, once again trying to tear through the webbing to remove the inhibitor.
Spider-Man groaned and straightened. The desk had warped from where he’d been pressing his hands. He’d laid out his terms. It was up to Jean to choose.
“I offered to help you. If you refuse, you’re not leaving me a choice here. I won’t let you continue endangering lives. I won’t let that inhibitor fall into the wrong hands. You’re the one who decides how it comes off.”
The coffee table had turned onto its side, a barrier separating them. Jean huddled against the wall, chest heaving. Spider-Man balanced lightly on its edge. It didn’t wobble as he traversed it, dropping down in front of her. She was breathing hard, hands clawing at the back of her neck. Her nails were bloody where she tore skin.
She brought up her fists in front of her, pushing against his chest. “Get away from me!”
Spider-Man stepped forward even as she fought against him, trying to push him away. He pressed a hand to her throat, soft as a caress.
“You don’t win this. You never will. Decide.”
He tightened his grip, index finger catching on the inhibitor.
She coughed as he pressed harder, her hands battering at him.
The inhibitor cracked.
He lithely hopped back over the coffee table, giving her space and taking the shards with him.
“What?” Jean croaked, rubbing at her sore neck.
Spider-Man opened his arms. “Here’s your chance. I’m sure there’s someone within range. Do your worst.” He cocked his head, black eyes boring into hers. “But if you choose this path, there’s no going back.”
Confusion flitted across her face. She stepped forward, skirting the lopsided coffee table, searching him and his apartment – looking for the catch. There wasn’t one. She either stayed and helped willingly, or fought until her dying breath.
“Is it so bad?” He asked as she looked around, indecisive. He placed the shards of the inhibitor at his workstation. “To consider helping others, instead of hurting them? To think of them instead of yourself?”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
Spider-Man waved a hand. “We both know I’ve had a rough few days. But I’ve done years of good for this city. It’s coming to an end, but I’ll see this last one through. Be there for them.”
A knock came from the door.
Spider-Man sighed. “This is your choice?”
More knocking, insistent. “Anyone home? William told me this crazy story – said you came in through the laundry window in your underwear and that’s why you stole my clothes. Look, I don’t really care. But I want them back–”
Jean shook her head slowly, heartbeat steady. “That’s not me.”
He should let it be. He was in no position to start socializing with his neighbours. But he had taken that woman’s laundry, which could result in a bunch of problems. If she got the landlord involved and they came snooping–
There was dried blood caked on the fist of his suit. Is this what he was now? What he would turn into?
He shrugged off his suit and threw it alongside the mask into a hamper. EV automatically switched his desktop to something normal like cat videos and not incriminating like crime reports. He was halfway towards opening the door before he realized he was only in his underwear. He grabbed some folded sweatpants – not the stolen ones – and slid them on.
Only as he opened the door did he remember his eyes.
“Uh, hi,” he started, turning away to offer his profile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Um. Right the clothes.”
He left her at the door and began frantically searching the mess of the attic.
His neighbour squinted. “It’s like super dark in here. Were you asleep?” She stepped in far enough. The door swung shut behind her. She winced.
“You should probably wait outside–” He didn’t need her to get close enough to freak out. He just had to find the stupid clothes and get her to leave. Especially before Jean decided to do something they’d both regret.
His neighbour noticed they weren’t alone.
“I’m sorry – I didn’t realize you had company. I can come back another time.”
“No, its fine!” Jean intervened, making her way towards the door. He was sure he was the only one to notice her trembling. “I’m Jean. And you are?”
“Stacy. And this is going to sound super weird but I don’t even know his name…”
“That mess is Peter,” Jean laughed. It sounded a little forced. “What’s this about him stealing your clothes?”
Stacy grimaced and shrugged. “I don’t really know. I kind of want that story too.”
He returned with the clothes bundled in his arms, hiding his face. He unceremoniously handed them off to Stacy and turned away. “I got locked out. In my underwear. I got back in the laundry room and I didn’t want to seem like a creep so I put on the nearest thing and–”
“You put on a girl’s clothes to not seem like a creep?” Stacy snickered.
He backed up, using the distance and shadows to shield his eyes.
“I told you,” Jean jerked a thumb. She stepped closer to the door and Stacy. “Mess alright.”
Stacy tilted her head, appraising him. “You can say that again. A hot mess. See you around, Peter.”
Stacy turned and walked out, door swinging shut. Jean caught it, ready to follow. Spider-Man scrutinized her. If she ran, he would have no choice.
She stepped back and away. The door echoed as it shut.
“That really wasn’t you?”
Jean quivered a smile. “No. But it could have been. And yet… you didn’t do anything. You opened the door. Like this. All spider-doped up. I don’t think you’re the monster you’re making yourself out to be – the monster I saw in your head.”
She paused.
“It probably helped that she couldn’t really see your face. She’s right that it’s dark in here – I can barely see a thing. But you’re more than the spider. You’re Peter.”
Spider-Man swallowed. “I would have killed you. I still will if–”
Jean crossed her heart. “There it is. If. I’ll take my chances.”
“Scan complete.” The monitors switched away from cat videos to showcase the findings. “Results inconclusive. Anomaly detected in Damage Control’s database. Recent string of entries have been omitted. Speculation: a mutant in detainment. Location in subtext: The Damage Control Detention Centre on Roosevelt Island, Manhattan. Further information is inaccessible.”
A blinking red dot appeared on a map in the aforementioned location.
Spider-Man shook his head. “There you have it. Thanks EV.”
“My pleasure, Peter. I live to serve. Would you like to run those tests now? I strongly recommend further analysis of your spider hormones before you engage in any strenuous activities.”
Jean raised an eyebrow.
“Uh, EV? Stop being weird.”
“What is weird about helping you? This outcome promotes the immediate exit of one Jean Grey, who has caused you severe emotional and physical harm. Prior recommendation remains.”
“I don’t like your AI,” Jean stated flatly. “But she’s right – you aren’t okay. Not by a long shot. If we’re going to do this together, you need to get your shit together.”
Spider-Man narrowed his eyes. “It’s not as easy as you think.”
He stood in front of his scanners. “EV, you know what to do.”
“Scanning.”
Blue beams of light shone from a few mounts on his desk.
“Conclusion is in cohesion with suit data. Sustained elevated levels of octopamine and ecdysteroids. Known effects include hypersensitivity to external stimuli and decreased neuromodulation. Continued imbalance promotes heightened aggression, arousal and strength. Prolonged exposure may result in physical mutations, including but not limited to eyes, skin and bone structure.”
“What does all that mean? That doesn’t sound good.”
Spider-Man clenched a fist.
“It means I’m a ticking time bomb. That neuromodulation bit – it’s affecting what’s in here,” he taped his head. “It’s taking away my ability to think before I act. High stress situations seem to be the current cause–”
“Testing hypothesis with simulation.”
“But eventually it wont matter. I’ll stop thinking and start reacting solely on instinct. Like an animal.”
“Theoretical simulation suggests hypothesis is 96.7% correct.”
“That’s not even touching the physical mutation bit. Spiders… molt. It’s gross.” He gestured to the webs in the attic. “I’ve already subconsciously started cocooning myself. I’ve developed organic webs. I don’t want to know what’s next.”
Jean curled a lip. “Shit. Is there a reason you don’t want to pop on one of those inhibitors?”
“Current inhibitor requires increased modifications to match heightened levels of spider hormones. Running simulations. Results have a 100% failure rate. Mutations have successfully integrated into gene sequence. Current design is ineffective unless modulated for complete suppression. Running simulations. Results inconclusive. Running simulations. Results…”
EV stopped talking.
Jean tilted her head.
“EV?” Spider-Man asked.
“Results have 100% failure rate. Suppression results in heart and further organ failure. Running modified simulations. Inhibitor malfunction. Retrying. Suppression results in complete nervous system stasis. Retrying. Results inconclusive. Inhibitor malfunction. Retrying…”
Spider-Man winced as he tuned out the loop. He had suspected as much after monitoring the data in his suit back at Damage Control Headquarters. His body had already adapted to the new mutations. There would be no reverting it, no suppressing it. He either got ahold of it himself, or it would become as he had outlined to Jean.
“Shit,” she cursed again. “Did you know? Is that why – what you said…”
“I’ll see this through. You, your sister. But then…” he sighed. “I don’t know if I want to see what happens to me. Someone will have to be there for New York.”
“EV, how long does Peter have?”
“Current mutation is rapidly evolving. Spider DNA will likely overtake human DNA in anywhere from 48 to 72 hours. Speculated changes include neurodegeneration and physical mutations. Heightened stress and physical exertion may expedite this inexact timeline.”
Spider-Man flinched.
He was facing something worse than his own death. To think that after all these years, he would become his own worse enemy. It was a blessing that no one knew him as Peter. Those that knew him as Spider-Man, either personally or impersonally, were going to get a rude awakening unless he did something before then.
“Incoming call from Detective DeWolff. Should I send her to voicemail?”
Spider-Man didn’t speak. He flicked his wrist in affirmation.
“Hey, Spider-Man. Sorry to call you out of the blue. I know I told you to take some time off, but we need to see you here in the precinct. It’s about that cop that got hurt. We need a statement. So next time you’re free, swing on by.”
Spider-Man went to fish out his mask and suit. He slipped them on, brushing at the caked blood.
“Might as well get that out of the way before this gets worse. Will I find you here when I get back?” She understood the real question he was asking – if he left, would he have to hunt her down?
Jean shrugged. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”
“Yeah, right,” Spider-Man scoffed. “And what about Damage Control? I just gave you everything you need to chase after your sister.”
Jean pursed her lips.
“I do need to find Sara. I will do anything to find her. You understand that much. Because of you, I have somewhere to look. But I’m not stupid enough to go barging in on my own – they’re going to be watching for me now. You said that you’ll help. I like those chances better.”
Spider-Man’s eyes narrowed, adjustable eyes whirring.
“Really? Why don’t I believe you?”
There was an unsteady murmur to her pulse. She wasn’t lying. But she was hiding something.
Jean slumped down onto the couch and brought her hands together.
“There is something,” she started, twisting a ring on her finger.
Spider-Man tensed.
“I think I want to try again. That is – looking into your head.” She tried to hide it, but there was a quiver in her voice.
“Oh yeah,” Spider-Man drawled. “And why would you want to do that?”
Her pulse hitched. He clenched his jaw.
“You’re out of options and time. Your inhibitor won’t work. I need you to help me – and maybe I can help tame the spider.”
Spider-Man grimaced. She wasn’t wrong, but…
“You know as much as I do that won’t work. This isn’t psychosomatic. My biochemistry is changing. Irreversibly.” And I don’t trust you, went unsaid.
“I do not like that idea,” EV chimed in.
“I really don’t like your AI.” Jean repeated. She pressed her hands into the couch, moving to stand.
“If that’s all, I’m going to go.” Spider-Man could feel his own pulse rising. A glance at his hormonal levels showcased the same exceeded levels since his inhibitor broke, but he was getting jittery.
He could still remember the way Jean taunted him. The way she manipulated those people. The way she manipulated MJ, on that roof. He had thought – he had thought–
He needed to leave before he did something he would regret.
Jean bit her lip. “Wait. Wait, there’s something else. I want to try to tag along.”
She flinched as Spider-Man stepped closer, getting right in front of her face.
“Not! Not control you,” she floundered, leaning back. “Just see if – if that’s something I can do. Just look through your eyes. Nothing else.”
Spider-Man gave her space. He was already turning into a monster. What harm could this do?
“Fine,” he sighed, slumping into his desk chair. It squeaked as it rolled slightly.
“You get one shot, but then I have to go. And don’t blame me if you end up delirious like last time–”
Jean was clutching at her head and dragging her fingers across her eyes. ‘So dark,’ she had said. ‘I can’t see. How do you see?’
Jean pressed her lips together. “Right. Uh, here I go.” She exhaled and closed her eyes.
Before, she had flung the door to his mind open. She had barged in, ready to seize control.
This time there was a gentle prod, barely a knock. He opened the door willingly.
Spider-Man didn’t know where they were. Besides the glowing outline of the door, the space was practically a void. No floor. No walls. No ceiling. Just the dark.
The shape of Jean stepped inside, almost swallowed by it. A vague outline haloed her, the same as the door. Her throat bobbed.
“It wasn’t like this the very first time, when you forced me out. I saw a bedroom. A woman. Not this… darkness.”
Spider-Man looked into the void.
“So?” He asked, his voice echoing throughout the space before disappearing in a quiet paradox.
“This is meant to be the core of who you are. What makes you, you. Your values. For it to have changed so much in so little time – for it to be empty…”
Spider-Man let out a bitter laugh. It reverberated into the void. He stretched his arms out wide, watching as his fingers disappeared into the shadows.
“It’s not empty. You just don’t see it.”
Jean spun in the circle, looking around. “I don’t understand.”
Spider-Man brought his hands back towards his chest. They were laced in spider silk, the threads impossibly thin and translucent. Nigh invisible. He tugged further.
A fissure cracked above them, letting in a branch of twilight. It was engulfed within moments.
“Oh my god,” Jean muttered. “It’s a cocoon.”
She reached out a hand herself, her fingers gliding across the strings. The light haloed around her hand shone onto them, sending tendrils of light spiraling outward. The nest of webs was briefly illuminated, shining like stars.
Spider-Man grimaced. It was as though she were plucking strands of his hair, one at a time. It didn’t hurt. But it was uncomfortable.
“Stop that,” he hissed.
She jerked her hand back. “Sorry. But this is incredible. Your internal psyche is undergoing a complete metamorphosis. It can completely change who you are… Oh. I see it now. The decreased – what did you call it? Neuro-something? – this could do it. It could erase you.”
“You still want to try to untangle this web?” Spider-Man scowled at his own joke. “It’s over. Trying to slow it or stop it – you heard EV. There’s no way to isolate the specific strands. There’s too many and they’ve integrated themselves too thoroughly. This is what they’ve wrought.”
Jean shook her head as she stared up and around her. She reached out, fingers stilling just before she touched the web.
“Now you’re the one who’s not seeing what I’m seeing. Peter, you can take hold of this. If you’re strong enough to direct it – even control it – you can remake yourself into whatever you want. That’s the power here. The spider isn’t trying to unmake you. It’s trying to recreate you. Guide it.”
She tilted her head and hesitated at a strand. “May I?”
“Okay,” Spider-Man whispered.
She glided her fingers along it. Peter felt the warm caress of May’s hand across his face, her gentle smile as she sat alongside his bedside. He blinked, and it was gone.
It was as though a film had been lifted. The corners of his eyes were wet. “What did you…?”
“They’re memories. Experiences. The spider is picking what it thinks the important ones are to keep. It didn’t like that one. It’s thinning, weak. But this one…” She moved her hand, plucking a thicker strand.
“Wait,” Peter warned. It was too late.
Spider-Man tasted the blood in his mouth. He was wrapped around the Hulk as they fell, the impact splitting his knuckles under his suit each time he buried them into Hulk’s flesh.
Jean let go. “I’m sorry.”
Spider-Man heaved, coughing.
“It really likes that one. It’s reinforcing it.” She pursed her lips. “That’s what it wants from you. What it wants to turn you into.”
Spider-Man clutched a hand over his chest, feeling his own heart pound.
He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. That wasn’t who he was–
Spider-Man tilted his head. Straightened.
What had he been thinking?
Where was he?
He wasn’t alone.
He shoved.
Before he registered he was back within his flesh he was on top of Jean, forearm pressing against her throat.
“Peter,” she croaked, blinking back into focus as she tapped his arm. “Peter, please.”
She was dangerous.
Too dangerous.
He pressed harder.
“This isn’t you. You know that. Take back control.”
She hurt people. Kidnapped innocents. Endangered lives. She had threatened Ned and MJ. She had posed as MJ.
She will hurt you.
She can help you.
Spider-Man groaned and pulled back, pressing his hands into his head.
He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what he should do.
Jean shimmied back from underneath him, gaining some space. She was heaving, her neck already bruising. A faint tremor wracked through her.
“We can help each other. You help me find Sara. I help you stop the spider.”
Jean rubbed at her neck.
MJ in his arms. MJ telling him that she remembered. MJ lifting his mask. MJ kissing him–
None of it was real. All because of Jean. Jean manipulated him. It was what she did. He couldn’t trust her. She would play with his head and make him her puppet, if he let her.
He was already out of control.
What was worse?
The danger he knew or the danger he didn’t?
He knew the danger Jean posed. She wanted his power to help find her sister. If she was using him, she wasn’t hurting anyone else. At least, not anyone innocent. If Damage Control had taken her sister, he would help rescue her anyway. At worst, she was in control instead of the spider. At best, she could slow it. He didn’t want to imagine that stopping it was a possibility, not now.
He didn’t know the danger the spider posed. He knew what it had done – caused irrepressible rage and violence. Caused hurt and horror. It didn’t care for the lives it hurt and God forbid – took. He didn’t know what else it would make him do. He could become a mindless monster, seeking only destruction. Another Hulk.
Spider-Man sat back and pulled his hands from his face, coming to a decision.
“Okay,” he agreed, swallowing, throat dry. “If I let you do this, you realize I’m leaving my entire identity in your hands. You know what lurks in there. If you mess this up, you’ll be the first person to reap the consequences.”
Her eyes searched his face. Settled on his own, without looking away. She stared straight at him and the horror beneath.
“I can do it. We can do it.” She huffed, whispering to herself, “Carefully, Jean. More careful than you’ve ever been before.”
Spider-Man nodded, the corner of his lip quirking. “Watch out. I think I may bite.”
Jean reddened. “Neither of us wants to find out. Let’s get this over with.”
Spider-Man opened the door in his mind. She joined him as he headed to the precinct.
🕷