187. Quiet Sparks in Loud Places. (Patreon)

Tony POV:

Rose Hill, Tennessee, looked exactly like the kind of place where nothing ever happened. Wide sky, pine trees, quiet roads and a suspicious lack of anything exploding.

I touched down on the outskirts of town, repulsors whining down as the Model 72 eased me onto cracked asphalt. The air smelled like sap, snow and dust.

“Okay,” I muttered. “I’m here.”

I opened a channel. “Hey, Pete. Don’t tell me you’re already...”

“You’re late.” Peter cut in calmly.

I frowned. “I came here at Mach...”

“Look up.”

I did.

Peter Parker was sitting on top of a pine tree.

On. Top. Of. A. Pine. Tree.

One leg dangling. One knee up. A half-empty pack of Chips Ahoy! in his hand.

He waved at me with the cookie.

“I hate you.” I said flatly.

My armor folded back in precise, smug little segments until it settled into regular clothes, because apparently even my tech had decided to betray me today. Which technically isn't my tech but it's snuggly, warm and comfortable. Heater function, nice.

Peter jumped down from the branch, landing lightly on the dirt road. He brushed cookie crumbs off his hands like gravity was optional and consequences were theoretical which I was beginning to think was his entire theme.

“Come on,” He said, already walking past me. “I’ll buy you dinner.”

“That’s not how apologies work.” I said, falling into step beside him as we headed toward the small town proper.

As we walked, I noticed his glasses.

The lenses shimmered faintly, catching light at odd angles. Too sharp, too focused. Anime protagonist sharp. Data-sweep sharp.

“Why don’t you just use those all the time?” I asked. “You look like you’re about to unlock a boss fight.”

Peter sighed. “My life’s been complicated.”

That stopped me. He kept walking, hands in his pockets, voice quieter than usual.

“I used to be lanky. Nerdy. A loner. Gwen was my only friend,” He said. “She always stood up for me. Bullies. Teachers. Life in general.”

I didn’t interrupt.

“Finding out the only person you loved was also Spider-Woman?” He continued. “Didn’t exactly help my self-esteem. I felt… inadequate. Like I didn’t deserve her. Like I had to become more just to stand next to her. In reality? I was enough. I was always enough. But my teenage mind couldn't fathom that without associating her affection as pity."

I knew the rest. Years of obsession, reinvention. Trying to build himself into something untouchable. The first Lizard. A folly of youthful anger, not much different from me in all honesty.

“So,” Peter finished, pushing his glasses up slightly, “between saving the world and fixing other people’s messes, I don’t have much room left for hobbies. This?” He tapped the frame. “This is how I let my inner kid breathe.”

I felt uncomfortable.

Which meant it was real.

“So,” I said quickly, “college. You two doing the whole ‘normal life’ thing?”

He nodded. “Empire State University offered me a part-time lecturer position. Quantum Physics.”

“Of course they did.”

“Gwen got a scholarship. Music department. With her band.”

“The Mary Janes, right?” I asked. “How’s that going?”

“Famous-ish.” Peter said. “Five boroughs level.”

“Serious musicians?”

He shrugged. “Not really. MJ wants acting and modeling. Glory’s all about ballet. Betty’s in journalism. Gwen just likes crashing cymbals and hitting drums like they owe her money.”

I smirked. “Sounds healthy.”

“They’ll probably disband after Christmas.”

We turned a corner and stopped.

A ruined wall stood at the edge of town, blackened and warped. Five human-shaped shadows were burned into the concrete, frozen mid-motion like echoes of people who’d never had time to scream.

A makeshift memorial sat beneath it. Flowers, candles, handwritten notes.

My suit deployed a scanner lens automatically.

Peter didn’t need one as he had his glasses.

“Perfect match,” I said quietly. “Same char patterns as the TCL Chinese Theatre.”

Peter nodded. “We’ve gotta poke around.”

“I can help with that.” A childish voice said from behind us.

I turned and felt the hair on my arms rise.

Gwen POV:

Max Dillon didn’t look human anymore. His blue skin glowed while his veins and arteries flickered like black lightning. His sclera was black while his irises were a glowing white.

His outline wavered like heat over asphalt, his electrical field was literally ionising the air, giving it a metallic taste. My HUD screamed warnings. Electrical energy density off the charts, molecular instability, Max Dillon has become a being of pure electrical plasma.

I held my hands up slowly.

“Max,” I said gently. “Look at me.”

He did and broke.

“I don’t know what to do,” He sobbed, sparks snapping from his shoulders. “I can’t think. Everything’s so loud. I died, didn’t I? I died...”

“You didn’t,” I said firmly. “You survived.”

Barely, my HUD added. "Really not a good time Clanker." I cursed mentally.

He shook his head. “My mom… she thinks I’m dead.”

“Then the first thing we do,” I said, steady and sure even though my heart was racing, “is make sure she knows you’re alive.”

He looked at me like I’d handed him the sun.

“But we can’t move you like this,” I continued. “You need insulation. Containment. I’ll arrange it. I promise.”

Sirens wailed.

Of course they did.

Police cruisers screeched to a halt around the barrier, guns raised. Leading them was Detective Frank Davis.

I groaned inside my mask.

“Great,” I muttered.

Before he could open his mouth, I fired a web and plastered him to the side of a cruiser.

“Everyone stand down,” I ordered, voice amplified by the internal speakers. “I have the situation under control.”

Davis struggled.

Then his mouth came free.

“Sniper,” He barked in his walkie. “Take the shot. Take out the monster.”

“No!!!!” I shouted.

The rifle cracked.

The bullet hit Max in the head.

For half a second, everything stopped.

Then electricity exploded out of him in a violent storm, arcing across the street, shattering glass, melting asphalt.

I turned slowly.

And stared at Frank Davis through the glowing white lenses of my mask.

If looks could kill I wouldn’t have needed powers.