Chapter 11: The Weekend (Part 7 END)

Death, telling Peter to call her "Darci" in her human material form if around other people, left a bit after their conversation ended. Peter's head swam with confusion. He'd cleaned everything up mere seconds before the time-freeze spell ended, getting dressed fully and laying down to process.

'Ok, first, Death gave me a second chance at life, and I barely know a damn thing about the first one except that I fucked a lot, and now she's helpless but to always want me due to being my "Bride totem". Secondly, the big eight-legged spiders that weave the universe foresee a polygamist relationship for me, of probably seven. Since I now know what's foreseen, I don't even know if that will come to pass now. Thirdly, just because I fucked death, my webs are a darker grey, and my strength has increased by 10% of how powerful she is.' He flexed his fingertips, dark grey webs shooting onto his ceiling and actually cracking it a little from the strength in said flex of his fingers. 'Something about Tantric energy.' He shook his head and rolled over to sleep, his webs disappearing into the darkness of his room. Just before he passed out, Death's voice spoke softly in his head, having established a telepathic connection with him via a spell.

"Goodnight, Warrior." She left the mental communication equivalent of a kiss sound before her presence left. She had called him that once before she left. When he asked about it, she said it had something to do with his past life, so she couldn't talk about it. He shrugged and passed out.

~~~~~~~

The next day, he was swinging through the city faster and higher than ever, and if his webs stayed in a straight line for more than a minute, they crumbled to dust.

He landed on on a streetlight and handsprung to another one, looking over the edge of a bridge at an assault on a homeless woman starting to happen. 'Looks like she heard something she wasn't supposed to. I think I'll make sure somebody good hears it then.'

His webs shot out, 2 strands slamming into a thug's chest from the force of his fingertips' flex, and 2 more leaving cracks in the ground. Peter used the last two strands to webzip down and he pulled a front flip, axe- kicking a dude with the momentum so hard that an audible crack was heard. The thug went face down, bleeding a bit from his cracked open skull. Alive, but not by very much. "Mind if I drop by?"

Peter acted quickly, and by instinct, springing into a backflip from his crouch at the end of the kick. His legs wrapped around a his third victim as he landed on his shoulders, wrenching his legs back and slamming the top of the thug's head hard into the concrete of the small porch-like area they were in.

Dotted around the area were little green tables with matching umbrellas and chairs. Peter dove to the side and blasted webs at a fifth thug, sending him, flying and flailing, to crash into one of these pretty green tables. "Oh how the turns have tabled."

His spider sense triggered, and he pulled a Matrix-like backbend followed by a backflip to avoid the last two bullets in one dude's pistol. As he flipped, Peter's fingers flexed again, lightly this time, and he yanked upon landing, the guy's pistol hitting the ground as he stumbled into a flying right hook that probably broke a few teeth.

4 dudes later, Peter made sure the homeless woman was heard before he left the area to continue his right-before-noon patrol. He was midswing when he heard a bank alarm nearby go off. "Who's got balls today?" Peter swung in to find some dude in red and gold pajamas with unnecessarily cool gauntlets on his hands. "Man, those could do some damage in hands that could actually use them." He "EEP" 'd out of the way of a wave of concussive force. "I take it back, those do a lot of damage in anybody's hands."

Peter zipped to the other side of the room, wrapping webs around the B-list robber and laid his back against the wall, clenching his fists. He'd discovered earlier in the morning that if he wrapped something in webs, kept them attached through his fingertips, and flexed them the other direction, which meant making a fist, the webs would squeeze. "Oooo squishy!" Peter chuckled, only to cut it off when a big shockwave of concussive force broke through the webs. Peter had to scramble across the wall to avoid being turned into a spider-cake.

"Rrrrrrgh go away, bug! You think you can start a week ago and think you own this place, think agai-" He was cut off by high-velocity webs slamming into his face and shattering his goggle things.

"I don't own anything except the clothes on my back and an identity crisis. Shut up." Peter webzipped, about 20 feet of momentum stacking onto a massive right hook that shattered the criminal's jaw and sent him out cold. Peter kicked dust and dirt over him, kicked up by their fight.

He had a feeling cops didn't like him, and he was proven right by 3 cops barging through the bank doors and shooting at him. Pulling off a series of handsprings and tumbles, Peter webzipped out of there unscathed.

The rest of the day was largely uneventful, so Peter sat down at his desk/now workbench that night with two Newton Motors (Idfk, that came outta my ass) snagged from Shocker's gloves. "I'm gonna make some badass gloves out of these. Or something over the knuckles? I'll come up with something." He sent a mental movie of his day to Death so she had something entertaining to watch before he hopped in the shower and went to bed, hiding the Shocker bracelets in a desk drawer which he locked.

Speaking of locked things, Peter now had a box in his closet with a padlock around it, a lockbox if you will, which contained the panties Laura had slipped him and a pair of panties Death decided to just make as a symbol. Turns out, darkness could be turned into some pretty soft silk. Who knew?

~~~~

"Where did he come from? He took out R.H.I.N.O. and Electro, my only distraction, and he beat Connors, making my sabotage useless!" The tall CEO paced across his office. "I might just have to take care of the bug myself." He shook his head again before leaving his office at Oscorp. "The only thing that could make this worse is if Harry tries to make me treat him like a son. Nothing but a tick..." The elevator cut off his disgruntled and pissed off ranting.