The Black Spider - 7. Chapter 7: Decisions/Decisions

Peter knew Glen was going to ask him about the cornmeal, and why he hadn’t picked it up from The Corner Store, at some point during the trip. It was how to answer that question that gnawed on his mind in the moments when he and Glen weren’t talking. Those moments proved not to be enough time. When Glen asked the question, shortly after parking in the lot at the supermarket, Peter froze.

“Uh…” He managed after a few seconds. “They were out of yellow cornmeal. They only had white.”

“You know it took you way too long to answer that question, right?” Glen pointed out.

“Since when do answers have a time limit?” Peter seized the opportunity to switch the direction of the conversation.

“Since you also looked like a deer caught in headlights when I asked you that question.”

“That’s because it was a sensitive question.”

A perplexed look struck Glen’s face.

“How?”

“Do you know what would happen if word got out that a black-owned store did not have yellow cornmeal, on shelf to purchase, and only had white? I had to think before I just put that out there. And don’t be tellin’ nobody else what I told you either. Mess around, and start a riot.”

If Glen hadn’t known Peter to go through elaborate lengths just to get a laugh every now and then, he wouldn’t have given him the benefit of the doubt. From the deer-in-headlights expression down to the end response, it all could’ve been pre-planned. And as Glen thought about it, while he and Peter trekked through the supermarket to get the cornmeal, he found that he couldn’t come up with any other reason for his accomplice to act as he had.

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

The decision not to tell Glen the truth was just one of the many things that occupied Peter’s mind as he lay awake in bed later that night. Now that he’d had time to think about it, he didn’t see what it would hurt if Glen knew the truth. And not just about the robbery, but about his abilities as well.

‘That’s if they’re not just a temporary thing,’ Peter thought.

His telling Glen hinged on that. He was going to give it one week. If the abilities were still there after that, then the truth would be revealed. If they weren’t…well, there was no sense in bringing up something that couldn’t be done anymore.

When it came to whether or not he wanted his abilities to be permanent, Peter was split down the middle. Non-permanence meant not having to worry about a question that would be on his mind every second of every day until it was finally answered. Was he supposed to do something, or nothing, with his new talents?

He could already see the benefits of doing nothing. Had it been exercised earlier in the evening, there wouldn’t be concern about a certain store clerk. It was forgotten knowledge, until Peter recalled it fifteen minutes into tackling the thoughts on his mind, that the clerk at The Corner Store had gotten a good look at his face when she’d asked him to remove his hood.

The knowledge was something that could’ve been met with fear, but Peter met it with resolve. Even if the clerk gave his description to the police, he hadn’t committed a crime. The robber hadn’t been killed, just knocked down. And if by chance the power behind the throw was brought up, he could attribute it to adrenaline. The robbery had been a life-threatening situation.

‘But I bet I can pitch like a pro now.’ Peter remembered how fast and accurately the can had hit its mark.

And suddenly, his construct of doing nothing turned into one of doing something with his abilities, should they remain.

‘Sports!’

They were never a thing he was averse to participating in. He actually liked to play. His talent for them, however, peaked at average. So, there were never any Hoop Dreams or Friday Night Lights in his fantasies.

‘Until now.’

Peter considered the scenario. It was only sophomore year. That was more than enough time to choose a sport and devote some attention to it.

‘I could do baseball, basketball, and maybe football. I’d have to leave soccer and tennis alone, though.’

Even if it would eliminate the question of his sudden increase in talent, it would also mean starting from scratch. Soccer and tennis were two sports he’d never had the opportunity to play. It would take too much time to learn them in the same way he already knew the other three.

‘So how will I explain my increase in talent?’

He thought about the answer to that question for a long while. Ultimately, he decided on a mix between three separate answers. He would say that his coma had made him realize that every day was not promised to him, and that he’d always been good at ‘X’ sport, but was always afraid the jocks would be pissed to know that a ‘nerd’ could hang with, or beat them, at that sport. Now, he was no longer afraid.

‘That’ll work.’ He nodded.

‘On everyone except for Glen.’ An earlier decision came back like a boomerang.

Peter winced. He already knew that Glen wouldn’t be on board if he knew the truth.

‘I can hear him right now talkin’ about: You know that’s cheatin’, right?’

But was it really?

As Peter thought about it, he began to wonder. What was the difference between his abilities and ‘natural’ abilities? Weren’t they all still abilities? Did it matter if his came from the bite of a genetically altered spider instead of the genetically offered contributions of his parents?

He knew that some would say it did make a difference. His abilities were beyond human. While true, it didn’t grant him permission to use them at that level. In fact, it meant he could never use them at that level.

‘Not unless I wanna get locked up in some lab somewhere.’

So in reality, a person with ‘natural’ abilities would always come out on top. For them, the sky was the limit. For Peter, however, the limit was the sky. But he knew Glen wouldn’t see that as the balancing factor in the equation.

‘He’d just keep sayin’: It’s the principle, Pete. It’s the principle.’

One that, after some further thinking, Peter found it carried less and less weight against what could be his possible future. Being able to dominate at the sport he chose could mean a scholarship. It could mean going to a real college instead of a community college.

In contrast, Glen had the privilege of his father’s connections and money. He didn’t have to worry about if he could go to a real college. All he had to do was pick where he wanted to go.

It wasn’t to say that Peter felt resentment about Glen’s privilege. He was glad Glen had it. With the world still shaking the last bits of dust from the Great Recession out of its fur, having enough money to go to anything outside community college was considered a blessing.

‘Which is why it would be stupid of me to turn my back on my own blessing.’

One that could extend beyond college. Everyone knew that professional eyes watched college sports games. Should their sights be set on him, it could mean a career as a professional sports player. And professional sports players made a lot of money.

‘I’d be even stupider to turn my back on that blessing.’

Peter could see the benefits of that money. He and Glen could have a very good life together. He could give his Aunt May the money she needed to finally buy the house, as well as take care of anything else she needed. He could give the gift of college to his foster siblings and help see them off on good lives of their own.

‘But that’s all out the window if I open my mouth.’

Something that now looked like the world’s most idiotic idea.

‘So, I guess I’ll be keepin’ it shut.’ Peter rescinded his original choice.

His thoughts turned to the store clerk.

‘Now, let’s just hope somebody else keeps their mouth shut too.’

*                     *                      *                      *                      *                      *

Without one trusty alarm clock on the bedside dresser to do its job, the substitute was Peter’s mobile phone. He’d found out the night before that it had an alarm tone which sounded exactly like his old clock’s alarm. That was not the tone that awoke him, however. Instead, it was his Aunt May’s ringtone. Reaching over to grab the phone, Peter answered, “Uuuh.”

May chuckled to herself on the other end of the phone.

“Boy, hush. It’s eight-fifty, ten minutes before your alarm was about to go off anyway,” she said.

“What’s up, Aunt May?”

“You have a guest on their way over. You got about thirty minutes, so get up and get yourself together.”

Curiosity about who was on their way over lifted the fog of sleep from Peter.

“Who’s on their way?”

“Get yourself together and find out,” May replied, before switching the subject. “You still feelin’ okay?”

“Yes ma’am. All except for the nine minutes and ten seconds of sleep I’m missin’.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll live.”

“I don’t know. I’m feelin’ kinda faint.”

May chuckled again.

“Bye, boy. Let me get back to work.”

“Okay. Bye.”

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                     

It wasn’t until Peter left his room, and was walking down the hallway to the bathroom, when a possible answer of who the guest could be came to him. It screeched his walk to a halt.

‘No…it can’t be George.’

If it was, Peter knew the earlier phone call from his aunt would’ve gone a lot differently.

‘No. She wouldn’t have even called. She’d be on the way to the house right now with him.’

That was, unless, George hadn’t said anything to his aunt. Peter knew it wasn’t outside of his character to do that. Confront the source directly before getting other parties involved.

The thought haunted Peter as he went about getting himself ready. Try as he might to get rid of it, all conclusions he reached did nothing to eliminate George as a possible guest. While that possibility didn’t scare him, it would mean that the clerk at The Corner Store had run her mouth. That possibility concerned him. Because if the clerk said something to George, who else had she said something to?

The mounting paranoia from that concept was what led Peter – with twenty minutes to spare before guest arrival – to the front room to turn on the television. It was time to check the morning news.

*                      *                      *                      *                      *  

Television on demand, or T.O.D, made it possible for cable subscribers to watch anything on any channel as it became available throughout the span of the day. It put all the local news reports from earlier in the morning right at Peter’s fingertips. He was only able to check a few of them. While none of them mentioned the incident at The Corner Store, they did report on a story that caught his attention. A homicide involving a family, where the husband killed his two children, his wife, and then turned the gun on himself.

Neighbors, friends, and relatives said that the family – who moved into the neighborhood from out of state not too long ago – was happy. Nobody saw any signs to indicate the husband was unstable enough to do what he’d done. Authorities had no leads and no motive.

It was while Peter was about to check out a third local network’s newscast when the front doorbell rang. His eyes cut toward the direction of the front door.

‘The moment of truth.’

He stood up from his seat on the couch and went to the front door. Looking through the peephole, he was surprised by who he saw on the other end. Quickly, he unlocked the door and opened it.

“Mister Stark? What’re you doin’ here?”

“Good morning to you too,” Tony replied, smiling. “Your aunt didn’t tell you I was coming?”

Peter felt the tension of his earlier concern lift from his shoulders. Perhaps the store clerk had kept her mouth shut after all.

“She told me someone was coming over. She just didn’t tell me who it was.”

“Oh, I see.”

“But please, come in.”

Peter stepped aside to allow Tony entry. Once he was inside, Peter shut the door and the two stepped into the front room.

“Can I get you something to drink? We got water, orange juice, coffee.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I just finished a big cup of coffee before I got here. Don’t wanna overload.”

“I know that song,” Peter said, taking a seat on the sofa.

Tony took a seat in the recliner to the right of the sofa.

“Well, I don’t have to ask how you are, which I’m very glad to see,” he said.

“Me too. I feel like my old self again.”

“And everything’s been good? Nothing out of the ordinary has happened?”

Peter shook his head.

“No. Everything’s been going like it should, I guess.”

“Good. Very good to hear.”

Now came the part that Tony knew was going to be the hardest. He’d spent quite a few hours the previous night figuring out how to approach it. In the end, he’d come up with the way he was about to execute.

“Look, Peter, I want to be honest with you about something. But, in order to do so, I’ll need you to do something for me,” Tony began.

“What?”

“Hear me out before you jump to any conclusions. You think you can do that?”

Curious about what Tony had to say that would cause him to go through the motions he was going through, Peter nodded. “I can do that.”

Tony sincerely hoped his young acquaintance could. Letting out a short sigh, he gathered himself and started.

“Okay. Well…I guess I should start by telling you that I put a trace in you.”

The revelation was like a needle being dragged roughly across a record to Peter. Of the ways the conversation could’ve started, he hadn’t expected that.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a small collection of nanites in your blood stream. They let me monitor your vital signs, they report the general condition of your body, and they let me see where you are at all times. ”

Peter felt shock, disbelief, and a pinch of anger rising up inside him.

“What’d you do that for?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t suffer any side-effects from the bite,” Tony answered.

This time, it was the last word in Tony’s sentence that was like a needle being dragged across a record to Peter.

“Bite? What bite?”

“The one you were told was a bee sting.”

That revelation turned things toward a completely different direction in Peter’s mind.

“What really bit me, then?” he inquired.

“A spider. One like I’ve never seen before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your average spider typically has only one type of venom inside of it. The one that bit you had almost fifty different strains of venom inside of it.”

The news didn’t come as a surprise to Peter. It just confirmed his theory that it had been one of the super spiders that’d bitten him.

“How do you know all this, Mister Stark?”

“Because I took a sample of your blood and ran my own analysis on it after you were bitten. You have no idea how sick you were, kid. If I hadn’t been able to create the anti-venom, you’d be dead now.”

Peter felt his jaw drop in shock.

“No shit?”

“I shit you not.”

If words existed to explain how he felt at the moment, Peter couldn’t find them.

“You okay?” Tony asked, concerned by the look on Peter’s face.

“…Yeah…I just…”

Peter’s eyes seemed lost for a moment, before they locked onto Tony’s.

“You saved my life.”

“That was the objective.”

“But none of the doctors, my Aunt May, or anybody said anything about that.”

“That’s because they don’t know.”

“What do you mean they don’t know? How don’t they know?”

“Because I didn’t tell your aunt, the doctors, or anyone else the truth. It’s a lot easier to explain a bee sting and anaphylactic shock than it is to explain how a spider has venom so corrupted it causes alter – ”

Tony cut himself off, remembering that he hadn’t gotten to that part just yet. But he’d already said too much. Peter heard the rest of the word finish in his mind.

“You were gonna say alterations, weren’t you?”

Realizing he couldn’t backpedal now, Tony answered, “Yes.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“When that venom hit your system, it hit every piece of you all the way down to your DNA. Once it got to your DNA, it started to cause alterations.”

Peter felt his concern rising.

“Alterations like what, and am I still being altered?” he asked.

“Fortunately, no. That stopped once the venom was neutralized in your system. But…”

“But?” Peter encouraged.

“You didn’t get away scot-free. There were some permanent alterations made to your DNA before I could stop it.”

“Alterations, like?”

“That, I don’t know, and won’t know for quite some time. I just know that alterations were made.”

For Peter, three questions had been answered: how he’d gotten his abilities, that his abilities were permanent, and the purpose of Tony’s visit. Tony had come to reveal a serious truth. It raised a fourth question.

“Mister Stark, why are you tellin’ me this if you went through all the trouble to keep it underground?”

For Tony, this was another question he’d done some preparation on.

“Do you remember that trace I told you was in your system?”

A slight grimace pulled at Peter’s face.

“Yes.”

“Last night, it sent back some data that got my attention. I thought it was a malfunction, so I ran a diagnostic, but it turned out the system was fine.”

“What was the data?”

“I think I can answer that best by asking you a question: how fast can you run and how high can you jump now?”

Peter knew there was no use in lying about it, especially when Tony knew ninety-nine point nine percent of the truth already.

“I don’t know how fast I am miles-per-hour wise, but I know it would smoke the current Olympic track record. And I’m not sure how high I can jump standing still. I haven’t had the chance to test that out by itself yet. But I can jump pretty high when I’m running.”

“So, you’ve been testing?”

“Where and when I can.”

“What have your tests shown you?”

“Just those two things so far.”

This was a test from Peter to see just how much the nanites in his blood had snitched on him.

“Hmmm.” Tony accepted it, making sure the look on his face matched the tone of his voice. “It’ll be hard finding a place to test where you won’t be seen.”

“Therein lies my dilemma.” Peter agreed, satisfied the nanites had only revealed his jumping and running abilities.

“How would you feel about testing what you can do in a proper environment?”

“Like where?”

“My personal facility where I test and train myself.”

“Where is that at?”

“My house here in town.”

Peter didn’t think he’d heard what was said to him correctly.

“You have a training facility in your house?” he inquired.

“Of course,” Tony answered.

“Why not at your company?”

“Because that would put a big red target on the building and everyone inside of it.”

Why that answer hadn’t been obvious, Peter had no idea.

“Right. That makes sense.” He nodded.

“So, the offer’s on the table if you want to take me up on it.”

Passing up a chance to visit and test at the very same place where Ironman himself tested and trained seemed as dumb to Peter as it was to not take advantage of his abilities.

“I’d like to take you up on that offer,” he accepted.

“Got any plans for tomorrow?”

“Aside from going to the hospital in the afternoon, I’ll just be here. Why?”

“Your school, in case you’ve forgotten, will be letting all students out at 12:30 tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah.” Peter recalled. “Staff development day.”

“I’m willing to bet your friends are going to come by and see you. So, depending on when you wake up, that’ll leave you a window of time where you can walk out of this house and not be missed.”

Peter caught the gist of Tony’s thinking.

“You don’t want anybody to know what we’re doing?”

“No, I do not. Which brings me to my next question: have you told anyone else what you can do?”

“No. You’re the only one.”

“Good. I think it would be best if we kept it that way.”

“You won’t get any arguments from me on that.”

“Then how about I pick you up at nine o’clock tomorrow morning? That’ll give us about three hours to work.”

“Okay. But don’t come to the front. Go up the alley instead. If my next door neighbor sees your car, she’ll tell my aunt.”

“Ah. Neighborhood watchdog, huh?”

“When it comes to her house and this house.”

A rhythmic, electronic beeping sound caught Peter and Tony’s attention. Tony lifted his left wrist and looked at the watch that was mounted there.

“And that would be my cue to get to the office,” he said, shutting off the alarm, standing, and extending his hand out to Peter. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Peter asked, standing as well

“For hearing me out.”

Though it wasn’t an easy pill to swallow knowing he’d been big brothered, he understood why it was done. Reaching out to shake Tony’s extended hand, Peter replied, “You’re welcome. And thank you.”

“For?”

“Saving my life.”

Tony smiled, giving Peter’s hand an extra shake.

“You’re very welcome.”

*                      *                      *                      *                      *