Webs We Weave 2.1 (Patreon)

Episode 2.1: Lab Rats and Lizard Wizards

I sighed as I ripped open the gauze packet. It was a pain to do one handed.

“And what was it this time?” I pressed the gauze to the long gash on his arm. “Hold that there.”

Peter pressed a thumb to the gauze. At least he’d listened about the utility belt and managed to fit in a first aid kit. I knew I’d forgotten something.

“Well, I ran into this Vulture guy,” he said.

I hummed. “Hold this too.” I slipped one edge of the bandage beneath his thumb. “The guy with the wingsuit and the beak nose?” I’d seen him flying overhead earlier today.

“Oh, tell me about it!” Peter chuckled, which turned into a wince when I began tightening the bandage against his wound. “He just could not take a joke.”

“I’m sure.” Yanking it tight, I held the end of the bandage in my mouth and snipped it off with scissors. “You still didn’t explain how you got hurt.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. He was still masked, out of concern for his identity, but it was rolled up to his nose and I could see him start to blush. “One of the plates… slipped.” He tapped his chest. “I couldn’t quite bend out of the way and he got me with a talon.”

I sighed. I’d been worried about this. “Did you sew the pouches yourself?”

His silence spoke volumes.

I patted him on the shoulder. “Well, it was a good first attempt, but why don’t you look up some guides next time. Maybe ask your Aunt May if she has a sewing machine.”

He shrugged, flexing his arm. I whacked him again.

Dad used to tell me that men were like cars. They needed a bit of percussive maintenance from time to time.

“Hey, what was that for!”

“Just because it’s bandaged doesn’t mean you can go waving your arm around.” I rolled my eyes. “If the cut was much deeper, I would have had to stitch it shut.”

“Uh.” His eyes, which were remarkably expressive for just being two white lenses in a featureless mask, flicked to my stump arm. “You’d… stitch me up?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Ahahaha!” He raised his hands. “Of course not!”

“Good.” I stood. “Then don’t do anything that’ll need stitches before you even get into another fight.” I shook my head. I wish I could just ask him to be more careful but… “That’s the second supervillain in a week?”

It didn't feel like that was going to happen.

“Third.” Peter gave another little laugh. “And this right after I run into Marko and O’Hirn too!”

I raised an eyebrow. “You know them?”

Peter waved his good hand. “Busted them a few times. Really, after you told me how to find drug dens and stuff, I’ve been taking down the gangs left and right like Bam!” He punched the air and winced.

I sighed. “Remember, stitches.” Peter laughed as I just shook my head. “You were saying something about a ‘Marko and O’Hirn.’”

“Oh right.” He rubbed the back of his head. “They were just guys, you know, two-bit thugs. And then suddenly they show up with powers, calling themselves Rhino and Sandman of all things.”

“Sandman, huh?” I leaned closer, running a finger over the bruise on Peter’s neck and shoulder. It wasn’t as bad as the cut, but he’d come to me for help getting patched up. “That’s not a bad name.”

“Oh, I see how it is. Spider-man is whatever. But Sand? Sand is where it’s at.”

“I’m glad you understand.” I rolled a canister of some ointment in the center of my palm, unscrewing the lid. “It really is a much better name.”

“Sure, it is.”

I huffed, but there was no heat in it. “What are they teaching you kids these days?” I shook my head, rubbing a bit of the ointment on the bruise.

“Whattayou mean?”

No appreciation for the classics anymore. I cleared my throat. “Mr. Sandman~,” I sang “Bring me a dream…”

It was… an old favorite of my mother’s. Though mainly because she enjoyed dissecting it at length.

“Make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen~.

“Give him two lips, like roses and clovers…”

I paused, glancing up. “How does the rest go again?”

Peter stayed completely still for a moment, before coughing into his fist. “Well! Thanks for the help, Taylor!” I leaned back as he kicked up to his feet. “I should get out of your hair.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You sure? It sounded like the Vulture fight was rough.” I smirked. “I still haven’t given you your physical.”

He coughed again, shifting in embarrassment. I held back a laugh.

More and more, I was beginning to see why Lisa was terminally addicted to fucking with people. It really was the most fun I’d had in ages.

“No, no! I’m all good.”

I shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Anyway, I didn’t just track you down because I needed you to help bandage me up. Though you were, uh, surprisingly good at that.”

I smiled at the question in his voice. “Legacy of a misspent youth.”

“Spent how again?”

“Miss.” I raised an eyebrow. “Did I stutter?”

He stopped for a moment, and I could see his jaw working silently beneath his mask.

Most fun. In ages.

“I uh, also had a job offer for you.”

I tilted my head. “What, as your personal physician?” I waved at my arm. “I’m afraid I’d be a bit shorthanded for something like that.”

Peter let out a startled bark of laughter. “Shorthanded… haaa!” He shook his head. “Sorry, I’ll have to remember that one, but actually it’s a real thing!” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, more of a research study thing, but still!”

I blinked, intrigued despite myself. “Research?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. I… uh.” He chuckled. “I kinda had this whole build up thing where I revealed my whole civilian identity to you, but something tells me you wouldn’t be very happy with me if I did that right here.”

I frowned, casting a very clear look at the open space surrounding the rooftop before turning my glare back towards him.

“Yeah, like that.”

He’d dropped his first name on one of our earlier meetings. Which was already a mess even if I made extra sure to never say it out loud.

“Just… give me the spark notes.”

“Spark notes?” He tilted his head.

Stupid dimensional differences. “Don’t worry about it. The short version, I mean.”

“Ah, alright well…” He leaned in, lowering his voice some. “I know a doctor who’s been working on an… experimental limb regeneration treatment.”

My eyes went wide.

“I’m pretty close with him actually, you know, in my secret identity. I tried to get you a job as, like, a janitor or something, because both of you have lost an arm.”

“Leaning on his sense of camaraderie?” I smirked.

“Uh, well, you know…”

I patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t be so embarrassed, I approve. Though, I guess that part of the plan didn’t go exactly… as planned?”

Peter snorted, shaking his head. “Nope! But he did say he was interested in meeting you, and if you were willing, to test the formula on you as part of human trials. He was gonna do it to himself I swear, Dr. C—.”

I put a finger on his lips. “Names. Honestly, you’re like a walking security hazard.”

Peter leaned back slowly. “Uh, yeah, well. I was just saying that he really cared about this project of his.”

“I understand.” My voice was dry. “Still, you’ll forgive me if the phrase ‘clinical trials’ doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.”

“It should be completely safe!” Peter said, voice earnest. “We’ve done multiple trials on mice, and there were no issues in the most recent set of tests. Really, the next logical step is human trials, he even has the paperwork and everything. Plus, there’s even a cleanser we’ve been perfecting to undo the effects of the serum if any negative side effects start to occur.”

I paused, clicking my tongue at that.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted.

Getting my arm back, just like that? It would be like a dream. It…

You didn’t realize how hard it was to live with only one arm until you’d been there. Oh sure, I’m certain most people thought they did, if they thought about it at all. “This would be harder if I only had one arm, but I could do XYZ” or something like that.

But it wasn’t just one thing that was harder, it was everything, every day, relearning how to do simple tasks to the point where even running left me feeling jerky and off balance at first. Even if I could overcome it, if other people could and had overcome even more egregious disabilities… that didn’t make it easy.

And to just be whole again…

“I’ll… want to see the paperwork.” I said at length.

“Yes!” Peter fist pumped.

I raised an eye at him.

He coughed, lowering his arm. “Sorry! It’s just. I’m excited. I’ve been helping work on this formula, you know on the side, for a few months now. And… I’m so hyped to see it work for real, to get you back your arm.”

I huffed, but I just couldn’t stay mad at someone as earnest as peter. “Where do I go?”

“Oh, right. It’s at ESU.” He nodded. You can take the subway. Here, let me give you my pass. The redline’ll get you about halfway there.” He started patting his pockets.

“You won’t need your pass?”

He grinned. I couldn’t see it, but I knew it was there. “I’ve got these” He waved his web shooters at me.

I sighed. “Didn’t I tell you to be less overt?”

“You also told me to be more visible when I was heroing!” He grinned. “This is me, showing the flag.”

“Right.” I sighed, tugging his mask down perhaps a bit more sharply than I needed to. Peter hissed as the elastic snapped against his bruise. “You’re all patched up. Done?”

He rubbed his neck. “Well… unless you had any questions about the whole thing with Doctor Connors. I promise he’s a real good guy.”

“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.” I took the metro pass. “When should I be there?”

“Oh, uh… tomorrow afternoon. 3pm for the initial assessment and paperwork.”

“I see.” I let out a breath through my teeth.

“Hey.”

My eyes flicked up, back to Peter. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll work out, you’ll see.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at that. “My life hasn’t exactly been a history of things “working out” for me.”

He tilted his head. “What’s it been a history of then?”

“Things get worse.”

Peter gave an awkward chuckle, which grew stronger as I joined in. I suppose that had been a little dark for him.

But then, most of my humor was.

“I assume you need to get back home.” I took a step back. “Before you’re grounded for real that is.”

“Aha…” His shoulders slumped slightly. “Yeah probably. I’ll do another patrol sometime tonight.”

“You’ll get some fucking sleep.” I flicked him in the forehead. “You patrolled the last three nights, advanced healing or not, you’re no good to anyone if you wear yourself out.”

“But…”

I rolled my eyes. “The people around you deserve your attention as well, even if they aren’t in mortal danger. When was the last time you spent any time with this Aunt of yours?”

Maybe it was a bit blasé to be talking about this in public, but I was keeping my voice low, and my power gave me enough knowledge of my surroundings to know that nobody was listening in.

And more than that, Peter needed this talk.

By the looks of it, he knew that as well. “Okay, okay! I’ll spend some time with her watching Jeopardy.” I chuckled at that. “I’m not kidding, it’s her favorite show! She hasn’t missed an episode since like, before I was born.”

“All the more reason to spend more time with her.” I said. “And have you considered what I’ve told you?”

His shoulders tightened at that, and I held back a sigh. “I don’t think she’d understand. And I… I can’t not be Spider-man, it’s my… I have to help people; with the powers I’ve been given.”

I hummed quietly. What part of Peter was talking here? Was it truly his responsibility? I doubted it.

That still left his pride and his guilt, or some god-awful combination of both.

“It’s your choice.” I stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Uh, yeah.” Peter nodded, raising his good arm towards the skyscrapers. “You’ll be there, for real?”

I gave him a sardonic look. “What kind of idiot would turn down a chance at a new arm?” I asked.

He gave another chuckle. “Right, well… see you then!” He launched a web from his shooter, jumping off the roof before I could reply.

I shook my head. Clearly there was something eating at him, more than just me pressing him to share his secret with his family.

Like most of my advice, it was something I wished I’d done, the first time around.

With a huff, I patted down my pants and started out of the alleyway. I kept my head down as I walked, paying just enough attention to avoid bumping into anybody. With my clothes, and the way I moved, I might as well have been invisible.

The people of New York City were adept at ignoring the undesirables in their midst.

Which, if you asked a New Yorker, included pretty much everyone, along with most other New Yorkers.

I bit my lip. Not for the first time, I wondered if getting involved with Peter—with Spider-man—was the right choice. He was a good kid, he didn’t need to track down stash houses, or detain supervillains himself. That was what the police should have been doing.

But on the other hand, what if I didn’t give him advice? If he got his dumb ass killed from something my experience could have prevented…

I wasn’t telling him what to do or how to do it. I was just answering questions, letting him know how to be more effective, how to keep himself safe. But once he figured out he could do something, well…

Peter wasn’t the type to sit by while he could help.

I chuckled. What I would have given for someone like him back on Earth Bet.

But we would never have been allies in that life.

I had things to do today. Had to find a shelter with room, had to find something to eat if I could. If possible, it would be nice to clean my clothes, take a shower, or both. Especially if I was going to be meeting some big scientist tomorrow.

Last I checked, that type didn’t usually like filthy people in their laboratories.

My gaze was drawn back to my right arm, cut off just above the elbow. If I closed my eyes, I could almost remember the pain of it getting crushed, the fire searing the wound shut.

Look at me, spending twenty minutes chatting with some newbie cape and suddenly I was getting maudlin again.

I sighed.

I wasn’t lying to Peter, when I said only an idiot would turn down a chance at a new arm. The only question that remained was if I was indeed an idiot or not. Common sense said I should at least go. It would cost me nothing to talk to this Doctor Connors, and it would cost me Peter’s trust if I just didn’t show up.

He’d stuck out his neck for me, at least a bit.

But on the other hand (the one that I currently didn’t have at the moment), I wasn’t sure if I deserved to be fixed.

No matter how much I wanted it.

It would make bandaging Peter up a little bit easier next time he got cut up. I chuckled at that. No doubt he’d tell me that he wouldn’t get hurt again. But he would, again, and again, and again.

And then one day, he’d bite off more than he could chew and get two in the back of the head.

You know, like this other spider themed cape I knew, once upon a never.

Was I willing to let that girl go? Could I afford the risk becoming that girl again?

For so long, I’d been stuck in place. Even helping Peter had been more of a reflex than anything else, a throwback to my time with the Chicago Wards, where my advice was just one more thing keeping those kids alive.

Was this really so different?

It was, I’d told myself. There hadn’t been any other capes here, just the one. A bit of help would keep him from catching a lucky bullet, and I could cap my involvement at that.

But now the game was changing.

Two-bit thugs didn’t just show up with superpowers one day, even if Peter was still too naïve to really question it. He was still living half in a comic book.

But this was the real world; someone big had caught wind of the spider—my fault—and they’d decided to take a more proactive stance. If I left Peter to it, he’d bumble through the panels of his storied life, without realizing that there was no bleed edge where the panel stopped, save from where your own blood hit the pavement.

No ending except when you last closed your eyes.

I stopped, turning my eyes skyward. My voice was barely a whisper. “What do you think, passenger?”

I felt a nudge, as if pushing me forward, to keep moving, to stop existing in this middle—this liminal void—as I had been since I’d landed here.

Despite myself, a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

“I figured you would agree.”