The Lone Wolf | P. Parker [1]

8 // Superstitions and Strange Meet-cutes

I'm walking around Manhattan, getting familiar with the lay of the land, especially if I'm gonna be living here for a while. Fair enough, I know a good bit about the place thanks to both El and Jones, but there's nothing like some good first-hand experience.

I pass by a few bars, and a few shops, I try to take a mental note of where I am. Then I see the street corner I'm getting to, it's 11th and 49th, if I remember correctly, Jones told me that this is where sketchy shit happens. I make a note of the people there, mostly the younger ones and try to remember them. If I'm gonna be here for a while then I may as well try to turn some people's lives around, especially the people who have a lot of life ahead of them, they have a lot to live for.

Eventually I find myself in Queens, if I'm looking around the terrain then the other boroughs are definitely in NY and I'll be looking out for them too. What's the point of just micromanaging 25 blocks in Manhattan, I'm not Matt. Also the Spider-Dude said he was from Queens, who knows, I might run into him.

I'm walking down the street when I see a group of magpies, I immediately salute and begin counting them. What can I say, I grew up in one of the most superstitious countries I can think of. As I count them I say the rhyme under my breath.

"One for sorrow... two for joy... three for a girl... four for a boy..." there's four of them.

Four. Four for a boy? Well I'm certainly not pregnant so that can only mean... nope. No boyfriends. No boyfriends. Not happening.

I ignore the niggling feeling of knowing how these superstitions usually end up true and keep walking. I then pass by an alleyway, just as I pass it I hear a noise. I walk back a few paces and hear the groaning again, and then silence.

I look around me, making sure I know all the exits before walking down the alleyway, then I see it. A body covered in red and blue and dirt. It's the Arachnid-kid.

When I get a little closer I see that his mask is askew, the tear in the suit and that he's bleeding. I also see that he's not moving. Then I do what anyone else would do. I kick his leg to see if he's dead.

"Uugghhhhh," he groans and I can tell that he's perfectly fine... aside from the gaping wound in his side that is.

"You a'right, sur?" I ask and he gasps, grabbing at his mask and trying to cover his face.

"Lad," I say a bit louder, "It's me, ye muppet. Calm yerself."

"Oh, woah, wait-" he says, sitting up and leaning on his elbows. "Wait you're the- you're the girl from Germany."

"Aye, aye I am. That's what I'm telling ye, you twat. Now here, do ye need some help, you seem to have an extra pocket," I say, pointing to his wound that seems like he was stabbed.

"Oh, yeah, help would be nice," he says and I reach out a hand, pulling him up. "Wait, why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be in jail? Should I call someone? Like the cops or Mr. Stark? Wait, why would you even tell me that, I'm gonna-"

"Pump the breaks, boss," I say, catching his wrist again in a tight grip. "I'm here de meet with yer precious Stark. I'm just... taking a few, um, laethanta saoire, or – what do yous American's call them? – vacation days," I say in a very exaggerated American accent.

"Va- vacation days?" he asks, sounding a little stunned which, honestly, I don't blame him for. "What do you mean?"

"Well, since I'm like an 'international criminal' now or something, I can't go home to my friends so, thanks for that," I say, giving two sarcastic finger guns, "Now I'm gonny stay in your wee United States while the boss man vouches for me, or at least that's what Wanda says he'll do. I'm on permanent holiday at the minute."