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seriousficTitle: The Cost of Wearing Masks
Fandom: Spider-Man movieverse
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,583
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 5
Next Part: Chapter 7
Characters/Pairings: Peter/MJ
Summary: Peter’s lost his job and has his ass kicked. But at least he has someone to come home to.
The next day, Peter walked up the stairs to his apartment as if to the tune of a dirge. As liberating as being Spider-Man was, it was escapism… and his regular clothes might as well have been weighted down with lead, they brought him down to Earth so well. He had actually gotten himself fired from his dead-end job. Connors would have more homework to assign him the next time he showed up in class, and now his attention would be split once more. Plus, there was always Mr. Ditkovich, his landlord…
Speak of the devil… or at least the devil’s second cousin…
”Parker!” Ditkovich shrieked, despite the fact that he was now walking right next to Peter. “Your rent is late… again! One more time and you're evicted!
Peter pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped his runny nose. ”Yeah, plenty of people clamoring for prime real-estate like this.“
”You keep your tongue on a leash, Parker! No sass, only money!”
Peter craned his head back, preparing for a sneeze. To Ditkovich, it looked as if he were nodding.
”Good! And no more of those weird experiments! I hate those smells, Parker! Especially before dinnertime!”
”Aah...” Peter said, huffing up again. It was gonna be a big one.
”Do you understand me?”
The sneeze died in Peter's nose. He spoke with that annoyingly clogged voice you always get when sneezes die before their time.
”Yeth thir.”
”Good.”
Ditkovich dealt with, Peter continued his long trudge up the stairs. He eased the door to his apartment open and his day brightened instantly. Mary-Jane Watson laid on his bed with her head tilted back, her chest up and out. Oozing sexuality from her flaming red hair all the way down to her manicured toes. And fast asleep
Peter grabbed one of the Vulture’s razor feathers from the dresser and ran the tip over her body, bringing her out of dreamland. Mary-Jane uncorked an action figure she had been using as ironic teddy bear… ironic because it was one of those realistic-to-the-last-bloodstain movie monster statues Peter had been so into back in the 90s. “You don't get many girls up here, do you?”
”You're a pioneer,” Peter assured her. “Although there was a certain blonde... and she brought cake.”
”I would have brought milk.”
”She gave me that too.”
”If you love her so much, why don't you marry her?”
”Well, there's this certain redhead I know who would kill me...” He patted her hip. “Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”
He sat down in front of the TV, an old corker that went to static if you didn’t have the rabbit ears exactly right. Sometimes he would adjust them with thin strings of webbing like a puppeteer, but he was in too lackadaisical a mood to bother now. As if he weren’t screwing up enough, now he was waking up MJ for no reason. Maybe she wasn’t getting enough sleep. Maybe he was denying her the first good night’s sleep she’d had in ages. That was just what they needed.
Mary-Jane came in and, with a small smirk, fiddled the rabbit ears until the reception was coming through clear and true.
Peter turned off the TV.
“Still in your funk?” Mary-Jane asked him.
”It's not a funk.”
”Here, brought you something that might help you feel better.”
From her back pocket she brought out a folded-up newspaper, which she unfolded to give to him.
”Unless they brought back Calvin & Hobbes...” Peter muttered darkly.
”Page 5, wise guy.”
With a dubious expression, he opened the newspaper to there. There was a photograph of Spider-Man climbing a billboard for a perfume, with Mary-Jane pictured on the billboard. Underneath the picture was a caption saying "New York's Newest Love Affair? Photo by Lance Bannon."
“You know I’ve publicly rescued you, what, three times? Someone could think I have a crush on you and… try… to… kidnap… you…” Peter trailed off.
“Yes, that would be horrible,” Mary-Jane said lightly, sauntering down onto the armrest of his easy chair. Her butt brushed against his arm. “You can’t live your life worrying about this stuff. It’s noble, but after a point it’s just… neurotic. Come on, focus on the positive, just try.”
“Well,” Peter planted an elbow on her leg, leaning onto her lower body. “I just discovered I could save a bunch of money on tissues by just using webbing.”
”Ew,” Mary-Jane said, slapping at him.
He fought her off, getting up out of the chair. She collapsed into his seat, hair flying around. She righted herself, brushing the red hair out of her face. She was lovely. Peter could’ve been blind and still seen that.
”Look, you caught me at a bad time. I need to go on patrol…” He glanced at the window.
”Take me with you.”
”Pardon?”
Mary-Jane stood, pushing another errant lock of hair behind her ear. His breath quickened as she put her arms around him, linking over the small of his back and slowly forcing them together.
”Take. Me. With you,” she said, her faces inches from his.
Peter reluctantly slipped out of her grip. Firmly, he shook his head and strode over to the window. “No way. Too dangerous.”
”I'm not asking you to take me into battle or anything, just give me a ride.” Affectionately, she snaked her arms around him from behind in an embrace. Hands unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing the neck of his costume. Her forefinger brushed the raised webbing at his throat. “Let me into your world for a change.”
Peter looked back at her. She resolutely stuck her hands into her pockets. He sat down on the windowsill. They looked at each other.
God, she was beautiful. In so much more than just looks. Once, he’d seen her as an object, a fantasy, but now he’d gotten to know the real her. It wasn’t something a lot of people did. Under the party girl act was someone who’d been there for him when no one else had. With a single kiss, she could put him at the top of the world. With a few words, she could turn his day around. It was like witchcraft. And it always left him wanting more.
He wanted to know everything she had to tell him, fill in all the blanks that had been there since before she came into his life. He didn’t even know the color of her eyes, not off-hand…
Drawing closer to her, he looked into them. Green. The love of his life had green eyes.
Mary-Jane wanted to know about him too. Not just Spider-Man, not just Peter Parker, but both sides of him. It seemed too impossibly good, too breathtakingly lucky, to be true. But it was. He reached out to touch her, just to prove to himself once more that it was real. That they were real.
Naturally, they kissed.
She wanted to know him, just as much as he wanted to know her. Maybe more. He couldn’t deny her that. Not now, not ever.
Mary-Jane sensed his agreement before they even broke apart, so it came as no surprise when he asked ”You want me to web us together? For safety?
”Not until I have a ring around my finger,” she replied smartly.
”Funny.”
”I thought so.”
In five minutes, giving Peter time to change and Mary-Jane time to find her scarf, they were on the roof. Peter ably hopped onto the ledge, easily balancing on the calf-high edge. Mary-Jane stood behind him, rubbing her hands over her arms.
“Suddenly I'm developing a fear of heights,” she said after a quick glance down.
Peter held his hand out to her. “C'mon. Once you're off the ground, it's a blast.”
She took his hand. His skin was usually so warm that the lukewarm, strangely textured fabric of the glove came as a bit of a shock. With him holding onto her, she felt safe stepping up onto the ledge. Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Spider-Man shot a webline out to a higher, neighboring building.
”Okay,” Peter said, taking the webline in both hands, “hang on tight...” She squeezed. “Too tight! A little too tight!” he choked out. She eased off. “Okay. You ready?”
”As I'll ever be.”
”Then here we go!”
With a slight hop, they were off the ledge and letting gravity take over. Mary-Jane screamed, first in terror, then into excitement as their fall turned into a slow arc. Spider-Man shot out another webline. This time they swung faster, angling a bit to set them on a new course. With Peter in the lead, they began an aerial ballet as they ascended higher and higher, swinging into Manhattan, where the skyscrapers lived. Soon, they were swinging among the pinnacles, the air appreciatively thinner than it was on the ground.
“You ready for the really fun part?”
Mary-Jane could tell he was grinning under his mask. She nodded breathlessly. As they swung by the face of a skyscraper, Spider-Man’s feet lanced out and caught against the windows, running them faster. Just as they cleared the edge of the building, Peter let go. They were flung upward, Mary-Jane squeezing for all she was worth, Peter breaking away for just long enough to embrace her. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, clutching her to him harder than steel.
They skydived down, hundreds of feet passing them by in the blink of an eye. With his free hand, Spider-Man shot out a webline. They entered a new arc at breakneck speed, swinging just about the streetlights.
The rest was something of a blur to MJ. She had her face pressed to Peter’s shoulder for the most of it, barely lifting her eyes to see where they were going. When she did, her eyes inevitably went round as saucers. Finally, at the end of a swing that seemed to go on forever, Peter let go of the line and landed them on the Chrysler Building. He set her down on one of the eagles, steadying her with his hands at her hips until she sat.
“There you are, ma'am. You want me to keep the meter running?”
Mary-Jane dizzily pulled her legs in and scrunched up against the wall, safely in the nook behind the eagle projection. “Peter, what is this place?”
He took off his mask and tucked it into his belt. “This? This is where I come to be alone. The service isn't anything to write home about, but it's not that crowded and the view is to die for.” He gestured at the city's lights, laid out like a tableau of jewels.
Up here, the sirens and the car horns didn't travel. It was as serene as a temple at the top of the world.
”That's...” Mary-Jane held her hands to her mouth in mingled fear and amazement. Amazement won. “Wow. You see this kind of thing all the time?”
”Well, more often it's some freaky-deaky in a bad costume, but yeah.
”That is so... cool! How do you keep from just... just telling everyone how beautiful it is?”
Peter looked down, and not at the street. “I keep reminding myself of who would get hurt.”
It was obviously a sore subject for Peter. He sat down in front of her, still crouched on the eagle. He patted its head.
“MJ, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Bruce. He doesn't look like much, but he's a real good listener. Regular Dr. Phil.”
”He seems like the strong, silent type,” Mary-Jane giggled, giddy from the night.
Peter took both her hands in his, thawing out her cold hands. Inexorably, he pulled her to him, her arms slowly extending… “So, how 'bout you? Could you picture yourself living someplace like this, only with air conditioning, Miss Big-Time Broadway Starlet?”
Mary-Jane let herself be pulled against him. “Depends on the company.”
He laid back down on the eagle, pulling her down on top of him.
”We should've brought snacks. Could've had a picnic or something. Not much chance of ants getting to the food up here.” Peter reached up to touch her face, then stopped to take his glove off. His bare fingers tingled over her cheek. ”So, for lack of getting into any juicy gossip or politics, what are you thinking?”
Mary-Jane looked over Peter’s shoulder at the cars far below, their headlights turning them into corpuscles of light in a vast concrete circulatory system. “Just how much I'd have liked to have someplace like this when I was little. Some place I could get away from it all. Whenever my parents would yell at each other, I could come here and pretend I was someone else. You know, instead of the closet… or the backyard.“
”I... never knew you felt that way.”
Mary-Jane got up, straddling him, holding her hands out for balance. “Don't worry about it. I'm all grown-up now. I've got my own apartment, far away from my parents, and I've got you.“
She slipped. Peter’s hand shot out in a blur and stabilized her. Graciously, she leaned down to bestow a kiss on his lips. His hands, holding her at the waist, traveled up his side as she teasingly kissed his nose, then his chin, before he caught her in another French kiss.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He grabbed her hand.
“Speaking of getting me, my spider-sense is tingling.”
”Why, thank you.”
”That means there's danger. I think we'd better skedaddle before we're officially a People Magazine cover couple.”
“Whatever you say, cowboy.”
Mary-Jane pulled his mask from the front of his belt and pulled it on him, smoothing it out before he showed her how it caught on his collar. He folded her up in an embrace, touching his forehead to hers, then rolled them off the eagle and into freefall. A moment later, a news helicopter shined a spotlight where they had been a moment ago. Nothing. It flew away.
Underneath, Peter stuck to the bottom of the eagle by his feet, holding Mary-Jane upside-down with him. They were locked in a kiss. Peter began descending on a webline upside-down, only with his legs wrapped around Mary-Jane to hold her steady.
He wouldn’t squander this. He wouldn’t let anything come between them. Nothing would take her from him. Nothing.
***
Oscorp kept warehouses around the city. Mostly in the warehouse district, although there were a few near train yards and ship docks. Warehouse 36 was supposedly for fertilizer reserves from Oscorp Agricultural. Night watchman Greg Hutchins didn’t think it smelled much like fertilizer. Besides, didn’t they store that shit in bags instead of crates?
Of course, as long as his paycheck didn’t bounce, they could store fertilizer however they wanted. He walked the rows of crates, shining his flashlight around. Not because he really expected to see anything he hadn’t seen a million times before, but maybe there was an interesting bug he could find.
He passed by two vertical pipes. As soon as he passed them, they came alive. Retracted to lower Octavius to the ground.
Greg didn’t even know what was going on when his feet were lifted off the ground. He still didn’t know when his flashlight fell to the floor and shattered like the cheap piece of plastic it was.
And if he didn’t know then, he was never going to know.
Fandom: Spider-Man movieverse
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,583
Author’s Note: Betaed by
htbthomas. Takes place after the events of Spider-Man 2, assuming Spider-Man 3 never happened.Previous Part: Chapter 5
Next Part: Chapter 7
Characters/Pairings: Peter/MJ
Summary: Peter’s lost his job and has his ass kicked. But at least he has someone to come home to.
The next day, Peter walked up the stairs to his apartment as if to the tune of a dirge. As liberating as being Spider-Man was, it was escapism… and his regular clothes might as well have been weighted down with lead, they brought him down to Earth so well. He had actually gotten himself fired from his dead-end job. Connors would have more homework to assign him the next time he showed up in class, and now his attention would be split once more. Plus, there was always Mr. Ditkovich, his landlord…
Speak of the devil… or at least the devil’s second cousin…
”Parker!” Ditkovich shrieked, despite the fact that he was now walking right next to Peter. “Your rent is late… again! One more time and you're evicted!
Peter pulled a tissue from his pocket and wiped his runny nose. ”Yeah, plenty of people clamoring for prime real-estate like this.“
”You keep your tongue on a leash, Parker! No sass, only money!”
Peter craned his head back, preparing for a sneeze. To Ditkovich, it looked as if he were nodding.
”Good! And no more of those weird experiments! I hate those smells, Parker! Especially before dinnertime!”
”Aah...” Peter said, huffing up again. It was gonna be a big one.
”Do you understand me?”
The sneeze died in Peter's nose. He spoke with that annoyingly clogged voice you always get when sneezes die before their time.
”Yeth thir.”
”Good.”
Ditkovich dealt with, Peter continued his long trudge up the stairs. He eased the door to his apartment open and his day brightened instantly. Mary-Jane Watson laid on his bed with her head tilted back, her chest up and out. Oozing sexuality from her flaming red hair all the way down to her manicured toes. And fast asleep
Peter grabbed one of the Vulture’s razor feathers from the dresser and ran the tip over her body, bringing her out of dreamland. Mary-Jane uncorked an action figure she had been using as ironic teddy bear… ironic because it was one of those realistic-to-the-last-bloodstain movie monster statues Peter had been so into back in the 90s. “You don't get many girls up here, do you?”
”You're a pioneer,” Peter assured her. “Although there was a certain blonde... and she brought cake.”
”I would have brought milk.”
”She gave me that too.”
”If you love her so much, why don't you marry her?”
”Well, there's this certain redhead I know who would kill me...” He patted her hip. “Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”
He sat down in front of the TV, an old corker that went to static if you didn’t have the rabbit ears exactly right. Sometimes he would adjust them with thin strings of webbing like a puppeteer, but he was in too lackadaisical a mood to bother now. As if he weren’t screwing up enough, now he was waking up MJ for no reason. Maybe she wasn’t getting enough sleep. Maybe he was denying her the first good night’s sleep she’d had in ages. That was just what they needed.
Mary-Jane came in and, with a small smirk, fiddled the rabbit ears until the reception was coming through clear and true.
Peter turned off the TV.
“Still in your funk?” Mary-Jane asked him.
”It's not a funk.”
”Here, brought you something that might help you feel better.”
From her back pocket she brought out a folded-up newspaper, which she unfolded to give to him.
”Unless they brought back Calvin & Hobbes...” Peter muttered darkly.
”Page 5, wise guy.”
With a dubious expression, he opened the newspaper to there. There was a photograph of Spider-Man climbing a billboard for a perfume, with Mary-Jane pictured on the billboard. Underneath the picture was a caption saying "New York's Newest Love Affair? Photo by Lance Bannon."
“You know I’ve publicly rescued you, what, three times? Someone could think I have a crush on you and… try… to… kidnap… you…” Peter trailed off.
“Yes, that would be horrible,” Mary-Jane said lightly, sauntering down onto the armrest of his easy chair. Her butt brushed against his arm. “You can’t live your life worrying about this stuff. It’s noble, but after a point it’s just… neurotic. Come on, focus on the positive, just try.”
“Well,” Peter planted an elbow on her leg, leaning onto her lower body. “I just discovered I could save a bunch of money on tissues by just using webbing.”
”Ew,” Mary-Jane said, slapping at him.
He fought her off, getting up out of the chair. She collapsed into his seat, hair flying around. She righted herself, brushing the red hair out of her face. She was lovely. Peter could’ve been blind and still seen that.
”Look, you caught me at a bad time. I need to go on patrol…” He glanced at the window.
”Take me with you.”
”Pardon?”
Mary-Jane stood, pushing another errant lock of hair behind her ear. His breath quickened as she put her arms around him, linking over the small of his back and slowly forcing them together.
”Take. Me. With you,” she said, her faces inches from his.
Peter reluctantly slipped out of her grip. Firmly, he shook his head and strode over to the window. “No way. Too dangerous.”
”I'm not asking you to take me into battle or anything, just give me a ride.” Affectionately, she snaked her arms around him from behind in an embrace. Hands unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing the neck of his costume. Her forefinger brushed the raised webbing at his throat. “Let me into your world for a change.”
Peter looked back at her. She resolutely stuck her hands into her pockets. He sat down on the windowsill. They looked at each other.
God, she was beautiful. In so much more than just looks. Once, he’d seen her as an object, a fantasy, but now he’d gotten to know the real her. It wasn’t something a lot of people did. Under the party girl act was someone who’d been there for him when no one else had. With a single kiss, she could put him at the top of the world. With a few words, she could turn his day around. It was like witchcraft. And it always left him wanting more.
He wanted to know everything she had to tell him, fill in all the blanks that had been there since before she came into his life. He didn’t even know the color of her eyes, not off-hand…
Drawing closer to her, he looked into them. Green. The love of his life had green eyes.
Mary-Jane wanted to know about him too. Not just Spider-Man, not just Peter Parker, but both sides of him. It seemed too impossibly good, too breathtakingly lucky, to be true. But it was. He reached out to touch her, just to prove to himself once more that it was real. That they were real.
Naturally, they kissed.
She wanted to know him, just as much as he wanted to know her. Maybe more. He couldn’t deny her that. Not now, not ever.
Mary-Jane sensed his agreement before they even broke apart, so it came as no surprise when he asked ”You want me to web us together? For safety?
”Not until I have a ring around my finger,” she replied smartly.
”Funny.”
”I thought so.”
In five minutes, giving Peter time to change and Mary-Jane time to find her scarf, they were on the roof. Peter ably hopped onto the ledge, easily balancing on the calf-high edge. Mary-Jane stood behind him, rubbing her hands over her arms.
“Suddenly I'm developing a fear of heights,” she said after a quick glance down.
Peter held his hand out to her. “C'mon. Once you're off the ground, it's a blast.”
She took his hand. His skin was usually so warm that the lukewarm, strangely textured fabric of the glove came as a bit of a shock. With him holding onto her, she felt safe stepping up onto the ledge. Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Spider-Man shot a webline out to a higher, neighboring building.
”Okay,” Peter said, taking the webline in both hands, “hang on tight...” She squeezed. “Too tight! A little too tight!” he choked out. She eased off. “Okay. You ready?”
”As I'll ever be.”
”Then here we go!”
With a slight hop, they were off the ledge and letting gravity take over. Mary-Jane screamed, first in terror, then into excitement as their fall turned into a slow arc. Spider-Man shot out another webline. This time they swung faster, angling a bit to set them on a new course. With Peter in the lead, they began an aerial ballet as they ascended higher and higher, swinging into Manhattan, where the skyscrapers lived. Soon, they were swinging among the pinnacles, the air appreciatively thinner than it was on the ground.
“You ready for the really fun part?”
Mary-Jane could tell he was grinning under his mask. She nodded breathlessly. As they swung by the face of a skyscraper, Spider-Man’s feet lanced out and caught against the windows, running them faster. Just as they cleared the edge of the building, Peter let go. They were flung upward, Mary-Jane squeezing for all she was worth, Peter breaking away for just long enough to embrace her. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, clutching her to him harder than steel.
They skydived down, hundreds of feet passing them by in the blink of an eye. With his free hand, Spider-Man shot out a webline. They entered a new arc at breakneck speed, swinging just about the streetlights.
The rest was something of a blur to MJ. She had her face pressed to Peter’s shoulder for the most of it, barely lifting her eyes to see where they were going. When she did, her eyes inevitably went round as saucers. Finally, at the end of a swing that seemed to go on forever, Peter let go of the line and landed them on the Chrysler Building. He set her down on one of the eagles, steadying her with his hands at her hips until she sat.
“There you are, ma'am. You want me to keep the meter running?”
Mary-Jane dizzily pulled her legs in and scrunched up against the wall, safely in the nook behind the eagle projection. “Peter, what is this place?”
He took off his mask and tucked it into his belt. “This? This is where I come to be alone. The service isn't anything to write home about, but it's not that crowded and the view is to die for.” He gestured at the city's lights, laid out like a tableau of jewels.
Up here, the sirens and the car horns didn't travel. It was as serene as a temple at the top of the world.
”That's...” Mary-Jane held her hands to her mouth in mingled fear and amazement. Amazement won. “Wow. You see this kind of thing all the time?”
”Well, more often it's some freaky-deaky in a bad costume, but yeah.
”That is so... cool! How do you keep from just... just telling everyone how beautiful it is?”
Peter looked down, and not at the street. “I keep reminding myself of who would get hurt.”
It was obviously a sore subject for Peter. He sat down in front of her, still crouched on the eagle. He patted its head.
“MJ, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Bruce. He doesn't look like much, but he's a real good listener. Regular Dr. Phil.”
”He seems like the strong, silent type,” Mary-Jane giggled, giddy from the night.
Peter took both her hands in his, thawing out her cold hands. Inexorably, he pulled her to him, her arms slowly extending… “So, how 'bout you? Could you picture yourself living someplace like this, only with air conditioning, Miss Big-Time Broadway Starlet?”
Mary-Jane let herself be pulled against him. “Depends on the company.”
He laid back down on the eagle, pulling her down on top of him.
”We should've brought snacks. Could've had a picnic or something. Not much chance of ants getting to the food up here.” Peter reached up to touch her face, then stopped to take his glove off. His bare fingers tingled over her cheek. ”So, for lack of getting into any juicy gossip or politics, what are you thinking?”
Mary-Jane looked over Peter’s shoulder at the cars far below, their headlights turning them into corpuscles of light in a vast concrete circulatory system. “Just how much I'd have liked to have someplace like this when I was little. Some place I could get away from it all. Whenever my parents would yell at each other, I could come here and pretend I was someone else. You know, instead of the closet… or the backyard.“
”I... never knew you felt that way.”
Mary-Jane got up, straddling him, holding her hands out for balance. “Don't worry about it. I'm all grown-up now. I've got my own apartment, far away from my parents, and I've got you.“
She slipped. Peter’s hand shot out in a blur and stabilized her. Graciously, she leaned down to bestow a kiss on his lips. His hands, holding her at the waist, traveled up his side as she teasingly kissed his nose, then his chin, before he caught her in another French kiss.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He grabbed her hand.
“Speaking of getting me, my spider-sense is tingling.”
”Why, thank you.”
”That means there's danger. I think we'd better skedaddle before we're officially a People Magazine cover couple.”
“Whatever you say, cowboy.”
Mary-Jane pulled his mask from the front of his belt and pulled it on him, smoothing it out before he showed her how it caught on his collar. He folded her up in an embrace, touching his forehead to hers, then rolled them off the eagle and into freefall. A moment later, a news helicopter shined a spotlight where they had been a moment ago. Nothing. It flew away.
Underneath, Peter stuck to the bottom of the eagle by his feet, holding Mary-Jane upside-down with him. They were locked in a kiss. Peter began descending on a webline upside-down, only with his legs wrapped around Mary-Jane to hold her steady.
He wouldn’t squander this. He wouldn’t let anything come between them. Nothing would take her from him. Nothing.
***
Oscorp kept warehouses around the city. Mostly in the warehouse district, although there were a few near train yards and ship docks. Warehouse 36 was supposedly for fertilizer reserves from Oscorp Agricultural. Night watchman Greg Hutchins didn’t think it smelled much like fertilizer. Besides, didn’t they store that shit in bags instead of crates?
Of course, as long as his paycheck didn’t bounce, they could store fertilizer however they wanted. He walked the rows of crates, shining his flashlight around. Not because he really expected to see anything he hadn’t seen a million times before, but maybe there was an interesting bug he could find.
He passed by two vertical pipes. As soon as he passed them, they came alive. Retracted to lower Octavius to the ground.
Greg didn’t even know what was going on when his feet were lifted off the ground. He still didn’t know when his flashlight fell to the floor and shattered like the cheap piece of plastic it was.
And if he didn’t know then, he was never going to know.
