More Than Amazing
Chapter 7 - Blood Money
Peter led MJ back to the shelter slowly, making sure to step back onto the main streets and avoid the alleys that Joey had previously led them through.
The walk there was mostly in silence, as their short argument had left them in a more somber mood. Until eventually they stopped outside the shelter's entrance.
Neither of them spoke as they arrived.
Mary Jane shifted awkwardly on her feet, staring down at the cracked sidewalk.
"…I still think you're wrong."
Peter gave a tired laugh, "…I know I am."
"…But," she sighed, "…I also know you were just trying to protect me."
Peter's shoulders relaxed at her words, and the tension that had been building in his heart finally faded.
Then MJ stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
"Thank you."
She then looked up at him with a pout, "But that doesn't mean you can tell me what to do!"
Peter just laughed fondly at her words as he slowly wrapped his arm around her back, "I don't think I could even if I tried."
𖢥𖢥𖢥
"Is everything alright dear?" May asked Peter as she drove them home.
Peter was deep in his thoughts when she spoke, only absentmindedly nodding back as he spoke, "Yeah… everything's fine."
"And that boy?" She asked. She spoke in an unquestionable tone, one that clearly expected an answer and refused to be denied with a lie or halfhearted response.
"…It's complicated." Peter replied anyway.
"Peter." She replied harshly.
"We got him home."
"…and?"
Peter sighed, if he wanted the boy to visit the shelter more freely in the future then he would need his Aunt's help.
"He got there safely, and I don't think he was in any danger—at least not for now."
"What is going on, Peter?" She asked quietly, with her hand tightening on the steering wheel.
"…He was a mutant May." Peter replied, turning to look out the passenger window and watch all the people and cars move about freely.
"A mutant?" May repeated, stunned.
Mutants still weren't the most well known. Peter had forgotten how rare they were, not to mention the highly probable chance that information about them was being actively suppressed by large secret intelligence agencies like SHIELD.
However that didn't mean that they were completely unknown, as rumors about them were still rather widespread. People just treated them more as a cryptid like Bigfoot.
…Which was also real.
"People with mutations May, which can range from crazy appearances to full blown superpowers."
"What? Are those real?" May gasped to herself in disbelief.
"As real as you and me. He was terrified May—of us."
May went silent as he spoke.
"He snuck in to grab some food, and MJ walked in on him. He was shaking like a leaf May." Peter chewed on his words as he decided how to continue, "I barely managed to convince him to trust us, and if I had told you about him he probably would have run off."
May was silent for several moments.
Then she asked the question Peter had been dreading.
"…Where did you leave him?"
Peter cringed as he responded, "He led us to where he lived, and it was bad to say the least. He brought us to a sewer grate at the end of an alleyway. I think it probably led to older subway tunnels."
"…And you left him there?" May's voice rose in disbelief.
"He wasn't alone."
"Does that matter?!!" She snapped, "You let a frightened little boy disappear into abandoned subway tunnels!"
"There was nothing I could do May."
"You could've brought him here!"
"He wouldn't have come."
"Then you should've called me!"
"He barely trusted me!" The words came out louder than Peter intended, "You didn't see how scared he was of everyone! That kind of behavior isn't something that you just learn!"
"…Peter."
"Bringing him with us would've just brought him more scrutiny! It could endanger him… and us! You think it is a coincidence that he and those like him live in a gutter?!" Peter finished with a shout. He was already tired from his argument with MJ, and his nerves were less patient with May getting involved.
Not to mention his own guilt for the situation.
But he wasn't willing to risk his family. MJ, May, and Ben. They meant too much to him. Their constant deaths in his nightmares was enough to last multiple lifetimes. He couldn't live with himself if it happened here as well, with all that he knew.
He wanted to help more, he truly did. However, he had neither the strength to do so carelessly, nor the resources to do so carefully.
May had flinched at his tone. She had never heard her nephew become so heated about something before and it left her at a loss on what to say.
Peter blew out a breath of frustration as he closed his eyes, taking a moment to calm himself. The car fell silent as he did, save for the hum of the old engine.
"…I'm sorry. This whole thing has been stressing me out, and I'm not too sure about what I should do." Peter eventually sighed, rubbing his eyes, "I at least got him to agree to meet us at the shelter next week, but we'll have to see if he goes."
He looked down with a sorrowful expression, "I… I just thought that we could get him to trust us slowly… let him realize he is not alone. I can't imagine how he feels, or how those he lives with do. But maybe this way… we can start from somewhere."
He needed time, and the Morlocks honestly didn't lack it. His alternate selves were usually amongst the earliest heroes to appear in modern times, and there was still plenty of time before his usual debut—nevermind all the later crises.
He could wait, and he could plan. The Morlocks in particular were probably something that needed time and care regardless, as they would not trust him easily. Truthfully, there was no easy solution to their predicament.
May was silent after hearing his words, until she finally sighed with a sad expression. She moved a hand from the wheel and rested it gently on Peter's hand, lightly gripping it in apology.
"Regardless of how he looks—If that little boy walks through our doors…" She tightened her grip on his hand, "…He's going to know he's safe."
She turned to make eye contact with Peter, "We'll make sure of it."
He simply nodded back with a smile.
𖢥𖢥𖢥
That whole encounter with Joey had really brought everything to the forefront—it was his true first encounter with the 'wider' world. The world that included aliens, monsters, demons… and mutants.
The world that was both fantastical and marvelous.
Although he had long known of their existence, he hadn't ever met them—not in his own life.
It would have been a wake up call if he had encountered it only days prior, but not now. He had found his resolve, and this only made him want to take the initiative in his life even more.
He had the time—but it wouldn't last forever. He had to seize it now, the time for wallowing in misery should have been over long ago. The time for action was now, and he decided to be proactive with his decisions.
Although ironically enough, Peter Parker was forced to wait a couple days after his visit at the shelter to do so.
It was only until the house was finally free with his Aunt and Uncle away that he began. In his earlier search for a solution to his problems, he had thought of something he had always shoved to the back of his mind.
Not for what it was—but for who it was associated with.
Uncle Ben's murderer.
They vary across realities, maybe a random thug, or even multiple members of some street gang. There were also villains on occasion such as Sandman, and even Felicia's father—the original Black Cat.
…Or The Vulture.
With a grimace, Peter tore his thoughts to the most consistent one—a burglar. One that attacks his home shortly before he returns from a wrestling match in a bid to cash out on his powers through the entertainment industry.
It wasn't without reason he attacked the Parker home.
His home once belonged to an infamous gangster named Dutch Mallone and he operated in it during his criminal days. The burglar, Dennis Caradine, once shared a cell with Mallone and learned about his operations here during a drunken rant.
A rant about how he had hid a large amount of his wealth secretly at his former place. A rant that made Caradine decide to rob the place after his sentence ended.
A robbery that got his Uncle Ben killed. A death that gave birth to a hero known as Spider-Man.
Peter sighed at the thought, he hated that his Uncle, the man who raised and loved him—had to die for that to happen. If only his other selves had used their powers responsibly from the start.
He shook his head from his thoughts and got to work, scouring his house for the supposed treasure.
It was a few hours later, after carefully tearing through and then rearranging everything back into place on repeat that he finally found a lead. He had even begun to suspect he may have been in a world where the burglar would attack Ben later by chance instead.
But soon enough, at a small board uneven with the rest of the floor did Peter finally lay his doubt to rest.
He retrieved his uncle's household tools and used them to carefully pry the nails out from the floorboard, taking special caution not to damage it. After some effort he finally managed to loosen the board enough for him to pull it out from the floor.
And there it was.
Shaded beneath the dusty crawlspace below was a musty dufflebag and Peter couldn't help but stare at it for a while.
To think this was the cause of everything. His whole life had been determined by this faded canvas duffel bag.
It didn't gleam with hidden riches or promise untold fortune. The thick fabric had long since lost its color beneath years of dust and moisture. Dark stains covered the sides, while patches of mold clung stubbornly to the seams.
Peter grimaced as he brought his body to the hole, grunting with effort as he forced his arm to reach all the way into the crawlspace. His cheek struggled against the floor as his arm finally grasped the bag with a desperate final reach.
"Come on…"
His arm burned from an awkward angle, shoulder protesting as the duffel bag pulled upwards, sliding onto the room floor.
Peter immediately leaned back, coughing to himself as years of dust followed along with his pull. He momentarily stepped back while rubbing feeling back into his aching shoulder. He stood there silently, breathing harder than he expected as he stared at it.
Now under the light, he was able to get a better look at it. It was caked in dust, with holes littered all around the fabric. It smelled of mildew and rot, with a rusted zipperhead.
Peter squatted down beside it, and then without hesitation, he carefully pulled the zipper open. The rusted teeth protested every inch before finally giving way with a loud metallic scrape.
The stale odor that escaped nearly made him recoil.
"…Ugh."
He then flinched back further, falling to the floor as dozens of tiny silverfish erupted from the bag and quickly scattered in every direction the moment light poured inside. Peter cringed in disgust as they vanished back beneath the floor and into cracks along the walls.
"…Gross."
He waited a few moments before cautiously looking inside again.
The bag was filled almost entirely with bundles of cash.
Old, yellowed bills half-disintegrated by age and decades of silverfish feeding. Many of the rubber bands had long since rotted away, allowing stacks to collapse into one another. Not to mention the outer bills that had absorbed decades of moisture, with dark stains spreading across them while mold clung stubbornly to the edges.
Although he had expected it, it was no less disgusting.
His alternates would only find out about the money cache after Dennis Caradine got out on parole and immediately began plotting to take it again. Due to numerous issues in his plan, it ended up resulting in some messy plot that even Mysterio was involved in.
Ultimately they never found the money, and May would later tell him how she had uncovered it some time prior. Although it had already been eaten through by silverfish at that point.
Peter began carefully sorting through the bag, separating every bill that remained mostly intact into a clean plastic bag while setting the ruined bundles aside.
Nearly an hour later, Peter quickly finished up, pushing the bag back into the crawlspace before carefully repairing the floorboard back into place properly.
Then he hid the bag full of money in his room before immediately sprinting towards the bathroom and into the shower.
He felt disgusted after all the mold and bugs he touched. He scrubbed his hands, lathering them in anything from 3-in-1 body wash to May's scented curly shampoo.
Then he did it again… and also a third time for good measure.
𖢥𖢥𖢥
May and Ben had arrived home by the time he got out, and he quickly retreated to his room. Peter closed the door behind him and leaned back against it with a slow breath.
He quickly locked the door and retrieved the money from where he had hidden it. The plastic bag crinkled softly as he set it on his bed.
It was the most money he had ever seen.
Normally he would hesitate to take such a sum. He wasn't someone who would take cash from criminals, and the money fundamentally was not his. Spider-Man's heroics were not a means to financially alleviate his personal life.
That wasn't who he was. It was irresponsible.
However, this was different.
It was blood money—Uncle Ben's blood money. His father, in all but truth, would have died for this half rotten cache of cash. Hell, it may have already been eaten through at that point.
He would have died for nothing.
That's why he didn't hesitate. This money… the price had long been paid—dozens of times over. In every life.
Peter wiped his eyes as he began truly counting the amount he had. After counting it twice, then a third time after convincing himself he'd made a mistake, he leaned back with wide eyes.
Seventeen thousand dollars.
A fortune.
To someone like Tony Stark, seventeen thousand dollars was probably pocket change, while to the Osborns, Harry and his dad, it was merely a paltry sum. To Reed Richards, it was maybe one-tenth of whatever horrifyingly expensive machine he built the night prior.
But to Peter Parker, the most perpetually broke man alive? It was no less than life changing.
It was months of breathing room. It was rudimentary lab equipment, computer parts, and chemical supplies.
It was a chance to get a head start for once in his life.
Peter took a slow breath at the thought, and then carefully separated five thousand dollars into a second plastic bag.
That money wasn't for him. It was for emergencies—for Ben and May. For sudden overdue bills and a desperate need for groceries. For hidden moments in the dead of night when he could slip a twenty into May's purse or Ben's wallet and pretend he had no idea where it came from.
The remaining twelve thousand sat on his bed, as if beckoning him to use. However he had to do so thoughtfully, so Peter grabbed his notebook and began his list.
Cleaning supplies, protective gloves, goggles, used glassware such as beakers, a soldering iron along with copper wiring and circuit boards, a decent microscope.
Peter tapped his pencil against the page before continuing.
…A high-end laptop.
At that last one, Peter winced.
It would be expensive. Very expensive.
But it was also necessary. His old computer was so outdated that it couldn't even support the latest Operating System, not to mention its myriad of other issues. It was only held together by his countless improvised fixes and improvements.
If he wanted to run simulations, organize designs, hack government organizations and police camera feeds, or do anything more advanced than basic homework, he needed something better.
Then he wrote the next items beneath it.
Compressed gas cartridges, small pressure valves, old backpacks and jackets, cheap watches. Maybe even a few burner phones, if he could find any without looking too suspicious.
Most of it wasn't very impressive. Half of it wasn't even technically lab equipment, and more like thrift store clearance items. But Peter Parker had been poor long enough to understand the hidden value of junk.
A backpack wasn't just a backpack. It was straps, padding, zippers, hidden compartments, and water-resistant fabric. A cheap watch wasn't just a cheap watch. It was springs, screws, gears, and a tiny casing.
Everything was useful if you were desperate enough.
By the time he finished writing, the page no longer looked like a shopping list and more of a collection of thoughts and plans.
Peter stared at it for a moment. Then, despite himself, he smiled faintly. For the first time in a long while, the future didn't feel like something waiting to crush him.
It felt like something he could overcome.
Then his phone buzzed.
Peter blinked, pulled out of his thoughts, before reaching for it. His eyes squinted for a moment to see the message behind his cracked screen.
Harry: Hey, are we still meeting tomorrow?
Right, they were having a get together tomorrow. He might even be able to get some off-market lab supplies with Harry's help.
He cast the thought aside. He'd bring it up if the opportunity arrived, otherwise… he'd just enjoy the last bits of carefree time he has left.
Peter: Definitely
Peter: Let's invite Liz and Sally as well, it was fun to see them all again
Harry: Sure dude, sounds fine. Flash?
…There was no response for a while.
Flash: 👍
Flash: make sure to brinf gwen
Peter smiled at the misspelled message.
Peter: Already planning on it
Peter: Wish me luck. 🫡
Harry: 🍀
Flash: ^
He smiled to himself in amusement at their antics, before he swiped his phone over to Gwen's old contact number.
After all, he had promised himself he would do better. He wasn't going to give up on Gwen Stacy ever again.
…But first he'd have to figure out how to get her to unblock him.
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Author's Notes:
This chapter felt way longer than it actually was. Hope you enjoyed it, and make sure to comment and leave a like! That encourages me more than you know! (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)
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