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seriousficTitle: The Cost of Wearing Masks
Fandom: Spider-Man movieverse
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,320
Author’s Note: Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
htbthomas. Takes place after the events of Spider-Man 2, assuming Spider-Man 3 never happened.
Previous Part: Chapter 4
Next Part: Chapter 6
Characters/Pairings: Peter/MJ, Doctor Octopus, Daredevil
Summary: Peter’s first superhero team-up gets off to a bad start.
“Let him go,” Daredevil said.
“He’s all yours,” Octavius replied affably. He flung Peter at the interloper.
Daredevil ducked to one side, pressing a stud on his club. A grappling line shot out and punched into the wall. This formed an elastic one-strand trampoline to catch Peter. The line stretched before depositing Peter safely on the ground.
Octavius growled and moved his pseudopods into towering attack formation. Peter could’ve sworn he saw Daredevil grin before ol’ Hornhead hurled his billy club like a javelin. It ricocheted between tentacles, erecting a terrifying cacophony as Daredevil somersaulted over the one-man melee. He landed behind Octavius and rendered him unconscious with a nerve-pinch.
The tentacles broke their master’s slumping fall. They lashed out wildly, but no less lethally. Daredevil was hit and flew back like he’d been fired from a cannon. He hit the wall with horrible frailty. After that sound, Peter would never take his fortitude for granted again.
The tentacles conferred with each other, staring inward like four corners of a square, then propelled Octavius’s insensate body away. One gave Peter the finger as it left. Peter wouldn’t have thought that was possible with three triangular digits, but it managed.
Peter helped Daredevil to his feet. “You alright?”
“I’ve had worse. Maybe you should leave this business to the professionals, kid.”
“Maybe you should leave it to the superhumans.”
“They don’t set boot in the Kitchen. Too scared.”
Note to self: show up in Hell’s Kitchen, bug Hellboy here.
“I should go. I’m needed elsewhere.”
“Somewhere there is a crime being committed?” Peter said in a pretty good Robocop voice, if he did say so himself.
“Yes, exactly. I only came here to meet the Spider.”
“Why?” Peter asked. Daredevil looked at him. “I’m curious.”
“The Kingpin’s vulnerable. Sooner or later, someone’ll be gunning for his throne. If it comes to a mob war, I won’t be able to hold back the tide alone.”
“You want a team-up?”
Daredevil glowered at him. Peter sneezed and unthinkingly used his retrieved mask as a handkerchief. Ewww. When he opened his eyes, Daredevil had disappeared into the shadows. “You might wanna leave,” his disembodied voice said.
Huh? An explosive charge went off, blowing open a locked door, and SWAT troopers swarmed into the basement. A short one with a nametag that said ‘Keating’ aimed his MP5 at Peter.
“Don’t move!”
Peter raised his arms, then realized that counted as moving. “Uh, sorry.”
Keating shoved him to the ground and worked plasticuffs around his wrists. “Clear!”
A chorus of gruff voices sounded throughout the boiler room. “Clear!” “Clear!” “Clear!”
Keating pulled Peter to his feet, handing him off to two SWAT troopers. “So, Spider-Man. All the boys down at the precinct say you’re tough, but look at you. You’re just a punk kid.”
“That’s not Spider-Man!” came a voice that out-gruffed the bulldoggish SWAT man. “That’s Peter Parker, my good-for-nothing, fiancé-stealing, photograph-faking ex-employee!”
“Mr. Jameson!” Peter cried. He’d never thought he’d be so relieved to hear old flattop’s voice. “Wait, photograph-faking?”
Jameson advanced mercilessly, Eddie Brock at his right hand. Smoke might as well have been coming out of his ears. Eddie’s flashbulb blinded Peter. “All those pictures were of yourself, posing as Spider-Man!”
“I didn’t…” Peter looked to Keating, who was looking back suspiciously, “mean any offense.”
“Parker, YOU’RE FIRED! Get him out of here!” Jameson barked. His anger was so explosive that the SWAT troopers immediately began marching Peter toward the exit. “That’s right, get him out of here! Only thing I hate more than a Spider-Man is a Spider-Man wannabe!”
***
Peter was thrown out into the street, feeling oddly naked without his mask. Then that was thrown after him. He picked it up and quickly made his way to Mary-Jane’s car. He threw himself into the backseat.
Mary-Jane started. “Is everything okay? Did you beat Doctor Octopus?”
”Not exactly...”
***
Dr. Otto Octavius was coming in from the rain. A high-end clothing store, mostly deserted thanks to the inhospitable weather. His lab coat was closed over his chest, concealing his tentacles. Their claws dangled down near his feet, opening and closing slowly.
A tailor approached, a tape measure spooled around his neck more for effect than any actual measuring he needed to do.
“How may I help you sir?”
Octavius rubbed the hem of his coat between his fingers, which themselves were encased in bedraggled gloves. “I need your finest suit and I need it immediately. And some new gloves would be nice.”
The tailor was used to dealing with these kind of people. Hobos who’d come into money and thought the clothes made the man. Best to humor them. ”Well, there's a waiting list, but for an additional five hundred dollar fee...”
A tentacle reached out of Octavius’s sleeve like a second hand, ending in front of the tailor’s face. It writhed back and forth like a hypnotized cobra.
”I believe I said immediately, didn't I?”
Another tentacle flipped the OPEN sign on the store’s door to CLOSED.
***
Peter finished explaining the situation to Mary-Jane. “So now Jameson not only knows that I've been dating you, but he thinks I've been cheating him from day one.”
They’d stopped at a red light behind a long row of cars. Peter had moved into the front seat and put on an old coat that Mary-Jane had intended to give to Goodwill. He hoped someone would use the old ‘That’s a nice coat… does it come in men’s sizes?’ line. Then he could honestly reply ‘No, it doesn’t.’
“It could be worse,” Mary-Jane reasoned.
“Tomorrow I'm going to be embarrassed in New York's most widely-read newspaper. How could it be worse?”
“He could have believed you were Spider-Man.”
“No chance of that. I put up such a bad performance thanks to this damn cold that... well, if you were there, you wouldn't have believed I was Spider-Man.” Peter slumped against the car door, his head on the cool glass. Outside, a bum held a sign predicting doomsday. “Otto beat me in about six seconds. I've never felt so... powerless.”
“Peter, listen carefully. Are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m here for you,” Mary-Jane said.
At last, a tight-lipped smile broke out across his face. “How do you do that?”
“Be there for you?”
“No.” He reached over to her. “Make everything seem better with just four words?”
“It's a gift... and a curse.”
***
The apartment Octavius had shared with Rosalie had long since been closed down, but there was an illegal sublet they liked to escape to – their summer home, as they called it -- that Octavius could use as a base of operations.
His tentacles put up a painting of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, the inspiration for his exterior-nervous system, that Rosalie had once forced him to take down. He found it inspiring. She thought it was creepy.
Two of his tentacles held it, the third held a nail, the fourth used itself as a hammer. In short order the painting was hanging elegantly. Octavius used his hands as a 'portrait', making sure the painting was straight. His tentacles imitated the action. Satisfied, he sat back in an old easy chair.
“That so-called man without fear nearly defeated us today. Unacceptable. How can we get to a multimillionaire if we can't get past one measly little... yes. I like the way you think!”
Two tentacles began to supportively massage his shoulders as the fourth pulled a portrait of his wife off a table.
“Yes, I like that one. Put it next to the Da Vinci.”
His tentacles turned on him, outraged.
“I don't care what you think, Rosalie comes first! This is all for her, all for her, do you hear me!”
The tentacles meekly cowered at his feet. Octavius had stood up in his rage. He sat back down, suddenly exhausted.
“You'll have to mature. Become men. You need... upgrades.”
Fandom: Spider-Man movieverse
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,320
Author’s Note: Betaed by
htbthomas. Takes place after the events of Spider-Man 2, assuming Spider-Man 3 never happened.Previous Part: Chapter 4
Next Part: Chapter 6
Characters/Pairings: Peter/MJ, Doctor Octopus, Daredevil
Summary: Peter’s first superhero team-up gets off to a bad start.
“Let him go,” Daredevil said.
“He’s all yours,” Octavius replied affably. He flung Peter at the interloper.
Daredevil ducked to one side, pressing a stud on his club. A grappling line shot out and punched into the wall. This formed an elastic one-strand trampoline to catch Peter. The line stretched before depositing Peter safely on the ground.
Octavius growled and moved his pseudopods into towering attack formation. Peter could’ve sworn he saw Daredevil grin before ol’ Hornhead hurled his billy club like a javelin. It ricocheted between tentacles, erecting a terrifying cacophony as Daredevil somersaulted over the one-man melee. He landed behind Octavius and rendered him unconscious with a nerve-pinch.
The tentacles broke their master’s slumping fall. They lashed out wildly, but no less lethally. Daredevil was hit and flew back like he’d been fired from a cannon. He hit the wall with horrible frailty. After that sound, Peter would never take his fortitude for granted again.
The tentacles conferred with each other, staring inward like four corners of a square, then propelled Octavius’s insensate body away. One gave Peter the finger as it left. Peter wouldn’t have thought that was possible with three triangular digits, but it managed.
Peter helped Daredevil to his feet. “You alright?”
“I’ve had worse. Maybe you should leave this business to the professionals, kid.”
“Maybe you should leave it to the superhumans.”
“They don’t set boot in the Kitchen. Too scared.”
Note to self: show up in Hell’s Kitchen, bug Hellboy here.
“I should go. I’m needed elsewhere.”
“Somewhere there is a crime being committed?” Peter said in a pretty good Robocop voice, if he did say so himself.
“Yes, exactly. I only came here to meet the Spider.”
“Why?” Peter asked. Daredevil looked at him. “I’m curious.”
“The Kingpin’s vulnerable. Sooner or later, someone’ll be gunning for his throne. If it comes to a mob war, I won’t be able to hold back the tide alone.”
“You want a team-up?”
Daredevil glowered at him. Peter sneezed and unthinkingly used his retrieved mask as a handkerchief. Ewww. When he opened his eyes, Daredevil had disappeared into the shadows. “You might wanna leave,” his disembodied voice said.
Huh? An explosive charge went off, blowing open a locked door, and SWAT troopers swarmed into the basement. A short one with a nametag that said ‘Keating’ aimed his MP5 at Peter.
“Don’t move!”
Peter raised his arms, then realized that counted as moving. “Uh, sorry.”
Keating shoved him to the ground and worked plasticuffs around his wrists. “Clear!”
A chorus of gruff voices sounded throughout the boiler room. “Clear!” “Clear!” “Clear!”
Keating pulled Peter to his feet, handing him off to two SWAT troopers. “So, Spider-Man. All the boys down at the precinct say you’re tough, but look at you. You’re just a punk kid.”
“That’s not Spider-Man!” came a voice that out-gruffed the bulldoggish SWAT man. “That’s Peter Parker, my good-for-nothing, fiancé-stealing, photograph-faking ex-employee!”
“Mr. Jameson!” Peter cried. He’d never thought he’d be so relieved to hear old flattop’s voice. “Wait, photograph-faking?”
Jameson advanced mercilessly, Eddie Brock at his right hand. Smoke might as well have been coming out of his ears. Eddie’s flashbulb blinded Peter. “All those pictures were of yourself, posing as Spider-Man!”
“I didn’t…” Peter looked to Keating, who was looking back suspiciously, “mean any offense.”
“Parker, YOU’RE FIRED! Get him out of here!” Jameson barked. His anger was so explosive that the SWAT troopers immediately began marching Peter toward the exit. “That’s right, get him out of here! Only thing I hate more than a Spider-Man is a Spider-Man wannabe!”
***
Peter was thrown out into the street, feeling oddly naked without his mask. Then that was thrown after him. He picked it up and quickly made his way to Mary-Jane’s car. He threw himself into the backseat.
Mary-Jane started. “Is everything okay? Did you beat Doctor Octopus?”
”Not exactly...”
***
Dr. Otto Octavius was coming in from the rain. A high-end clothing store, mostly deserted thanks to the inhospitable weather. His lab coat was closed over his chest, concealing his tentacles. Their claws dangled down near his feet, opening and closing slowly.
A tailor approached, a tape measure spooled around his neck more for effect than any actual measuring he needed to do.
“How may I help you sir?”
Octavius rubbed the hem of his coat between his fingers, which themselves were encased in bedraggled gloves. “I need your finest suit and I need it immediately. And some new gloves would be nice.”
The tailor was used to dealing with these kind of people. Hobos who’d come into money and thought the clothes made the man. Best to humor them. ”Well, there's a waiting list, but for an additional five hundred dollar fee...”
A tentacle reached out of Octavius’s sleeve like a second hand, ending in front of the tailor’s face. It writhed back and forth like a hypnotized cobra.
”I believe I said immediately, didn't I?”
Another tentacle flipped the OPEN sign on the store’s door to CLOSED.
***
Peter finished explaining the situation to Mary-Jane. “So now Jameson not only knows that I've been dating you, but he thinks I've been cheating him from day one.”
They’d stopped at a red light behind a long row of cars. Peter had moved into the front seat and put on an old coat that Mary-Jane had intended to give to Goodwill. He hoped someone would use the old ‘That’s a nice coat… does it come in men’s sizes?’ line. Then he could honestly reply ‘No, it doesn’t.’
“It could be worse,” Mary-Jane reasoned.
“Tomorrow I'm going to be embarrassed in New York's most widely-read newspaper. How could it be worse?”
“He could have believed you were Spider-Man.”
“No chance of that. I put up such a bad performance thanks to this damn cold that... well, if you were there, you wouldn't have believed I was Spider-Man.” Peter slumped against the car door, his head on the cool glass. Outside, a bum held a sign predicting doomsday. “Otto beat me in about six seconds. I've never felt so... powerless.”
“Peter, listen carefully. Are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m here for you,” Mary-Jane said.
At last, a tight-lipped smile broke out across his face. “How do you do that?”
“Be there for you?”
“No.” He reached over to her. “Make everything seem better with just four words?”
“It's a gift... and a curse.”
***
The apartment Octavius had shared with Rosalie had long since been closed down, but there was an illegal sublet they liked to escape to – their summer home, as they called it -- that Octavius could use as a base of operations.
His tentacles put up a painting of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, the inspiration for his exterior-nervous system, that Rosalie had once forced him to take down. He found it inspiring. She thought it was creepy.
Two of his tentacles held it, the third held a nail, the fourth used itself as a hammer. In short order the painting was hanging elegantly. Octavius used his hands as a 'portrait', making sure the painting was straight. His tentacles imitated the action. Satisfied, he sat back in an old easy chair.
“That so-called man without fear nearly defeated us today. Unacceptable. How can we get to a multimillionaire if we can't get past one measly little... yes. I like the way you think!”
Two tentacles began to supportively massage his shoulders as the fourth pulled a portrait of his wife off a table.
“Yes, I like that one. Put it next to the Da Vinci.”
His tentacles turned on him, outraged.
“I don't care what you think, Rosalie comes first! This is all for her, all for her, do you hear me!”
The tentacles meekly cowered at his feet. Octavius had stood up in his rage. He sat back down, suddenly exhausted.
“You'll have to mature. Become men. You need... upgrades.”
