Stark And The Spider

Revealed (Part 2)

After vaguely explaining the situation to Spider-Boy ("okay, so Vanessa was raped which is how she became pregnant with Melissa, and the guy threatened to kill her and her daughter so she thinks it's him."), we parted our separate ways for the night and I went home.

"Peppah! I'm home!" I announce as I walk through the doors.

I spot her as I walk into the kitchen."Hey, honey," she greets. "Dinner is almost ready."

"Great. I'm so hungry." I plop down on a chair and look around. "Hey...where's Dad?"

"He's...in a meeting."

"He's in a meeting?"

"Yes."

"With who?"

"He...didn't say."

She continues to cook dinner without looking at me.

"He didn't say, but you know, don't you?" I press.

"I have my suspicions."

"Who?"

She turns around and smiles at me. "You can ask him yourself when he gets home."

"You can't just say that and expect me not to be curious!"

She shrugs, smiling. "Oh well. Dinner will be ready in a minute, so go wash your hands."

.........................................................................................................................................

(Peter's P.O.V.)

Okay.

So, what I could understand from that conversation was; Vanessa was raped, the guy who raped her is the bad guy that's trying to kill her.

Okay, cool.

I mean, not cool, but simple enough to understand.

I start to make my way home, walking through the streets of Queens. My backpack, luckily, was exactly where I left it.

I pull my beige sweater tighter around me, shivering in the December air.

Who's awesome idea was it to wear a light sweater in winter jacket weather?

Yours, stupid!

Groaning internally at my lack of common sense, I continue to walk through the freezing cold December air.

I debate back and forth whether or not I should just change back into Spider-Man and web-swing back. It would probably be colder, but it would be over faster too.

My internal debate screeches to a halt as a black, fancy car pulls up to the curb beside me.

I pause in my step, looking at the car in confusion, as the window in the back seat rolls down.

There he is. The last person I expected to see in one of the poorer areas of Queens.

Tony Freaking Stark.

He pulls off his orange sunglasses and looks at me. "Hey, kid. Want a ride?"

Let's see. Continue walking in the winter weather with your stupid sweater on, OR get a ride in a luxurious car with your mentor.

The choice is pretty obvious.

I grin. "Sure! Thanks, Mr. Stark!"

"Great. I need to talk to you anyway."