The Spiders' Web: Chapter Five

 

The air was filled the stink of rotten food, feces, and falling apart blankets. But it was not a cold world. That much could be said thought Victor as he rolled onto his padded feet, stretching all the way out to his claws.

Victor had claws.

And fur. 

A lupine head was staring back at him from a puddle, eyes glowing crimson. Where was his face? What had happened to it? The wolf opened its mouth. A howl proceeded from it. Victor stumbled backwards, onto clawed hands with grey fur. Others, something in his head whispered. Find the others. 

Peter was late. Again. Time was so easy to lose track of in the wake of Uncle Ben's death. So was homework. Classes had originally been what he had gotten him through the day: the rustling of pages, the smell of a sharpened pencil, the indents those pencils left on notebook paper, all these things used to be a comfort. And now Peter had to force himself to think about them. He had to force himself to stay in his room to do homework, to walk to school, to sit through dinners with Aunt May as she made sure his soup was just the right level of lukewarm. And for the love of God Peter wanted to be okay with not wearing the damn spandex suit under his clothes.  

The school was up ahead. Peter needed to hurry.

There was that tingle in the back of his neck again. From the right this time.

WHUMP

Fur. Teeth. Pantings. Stench. It was at least as large as Peter, if not larger.

The crowd around him scattered. Peter blinked as he watched the lupine form with blue jeans awkwardly flee down the sidewalk on all fours. Why was it doing that? It clearly has a bipedal frame. Peter didn't remember running into the alleyway, or stashing his clothes in his backpack. There was just the rush. He was in the air, twhipping along with the web-shooters he had made a few weeks ago. One rush caught him up to the running werewolf. Peter's mouth was dry; he was trying not to wet his spandex. This thing was at least seven feet tall.  His brain just couldn't-

"Here boy! Good boy! Let's play fetch!" 

Where the hell had Peter gotten the tennis ball??? 

But he had it. In his hand. And the thing was watching him, curiously. Expectantly. I think it's scared too something inside of him said. "Why don't we go play fetch in the park, boy?" No, not that. Really not that. What do you think you're doing? said The Voice. The wolf thing wasn't amused either. It howled and the back of Peter's neck tingled like nobody's business. Peter ducked. "The quick Spider-Man ducked under the very Bad Boy's swing! Not all the letters but c'mon that must have taken years to come up with!" Peter's fist shot up and he heard a cracking noise that he was so happy wasn't his jaw. "I always wanted a dog! But my mom's allergic and all that GOD BLESS YOU"(the woman who had just sneezed half a block down heard Spider-Man as he shouted) - "but what the heck is this?? I knew you shed and needed to be housebroken but this?? I mean my God, the slobber alone!"

SWISH SWISH. "HOOOOOOOOWWWWLL!!!!" Oh dear God that was too close. Both freaking times.

Twhip BAM. A newspaper dispenser flew in a shower of concrete and screws and smashed into the wolf's snout. "BAD BOY! NEWSPAPER TO NOSE GO LIE DOWN". And now the wolf was running again. Peter was was so terrified that he realized that he had, finally, wet himself. Wasn't adrenaline supposed to do something about that? Now he'd be even later to school than he already was! Thank God the pants were black, not blue! I mean it'll show lint but at least it doesn't show piss, although lint is a real pain too.

Oh wait.

I still have the tennis ball.

Don't ev- "WAIT COME BACK!!!" Peter heaved the tennis ball as hard as he could , smacking the wolf-thing in the back of the head. It feel over with a YIPE, on top of a screaming child. Oh shit. "Won't play fetch. Drools like crazy. EW ON THE SHEDDING"- Peter stepped around a patch of thick fur that was defiling the already hideously dirty concrete- I need to wash this suit when I get home dear God- and shot a web off at the foul thing's head. thwi-PAT went the web. His fist rocketed off the wolf's jaw as it stood with a sickening GRUNCH and it fell over. "Rated 0 out of 5 on the Good Boy Scale. Will send back to the pound for a good ole lethal injection A face only a mother could love, and even that's a stretch, wouldn't you say Boy?"

The screaming. Sirens. The "Get down on the ground!! NOW!"s coming in like bullets. The actual guns pointed at him.

Oh God my pants stink.

"No thanks, if I ever go to the cops it's with clean pants! Buh bye!" And with a thwip Peter had bounced away with a speed that never ceased to take his breath away. 

The cops took the unconscious and broken form of "Bad Boy" away.

For not the last time Peter didn't go to school that day. God, that fight felt good Peter thought for not one or two times as he hacked the school's network to find his teachers' lesson plans; homework still needed to get done.

Victor's mother never had a solid night's sleep again. No matter how hard she clutched her rosary beads the police never found her precious Victor, nor did they particularly seem to care about him.

Gangbangers give up the right to a mother, far as some are concerned.

Victor's mother cried anyway.

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