Prologue
Aftermath part 1
Aftermath part 2
Aftermath part 3
Aftermath part 4
Aftermath part 5
Aftermath part 6
Emily part 1
Emily part 2
Emily part 3
Emily part 4
Emily part 5
Emily part 6
Emily part 7
Cinderella part 1
Cinderella part 2
Cinderella part 3
Cinderella part 4
Only Human part 1
Only Human part 2
Only Human part 3
Only Human part 4

FAITH IN HUMANITY
Only Human, part 5
4th May 2003:

J. Jonah Jameson, relishing the fact that there were five cameras on him, cleared his throat and delivered the speech that he’d been writing in his head for days.

“You see,” he addressed the nation, with more than a hint of glee in his voice, “people often ask me, time after time, why I don’t trust the man. And to them, I say, why do you? Whatever he is, he’s still only human, and whoever heard of a human having that much power and no real name? We don’t know a thing about him. We don’t know why he does what he does, we don’t know where he came from, we don’t know what race or religion he is.”

“And why,” asked the interviewer, a rather frustrated woman called Sharona Prabhakar who didn’t like being upstaged by someone whose hair looked like a dying hedgehog, “should that matter?”

Jonah was temporaily lost for words, although he quickly found them again. “Because only when we know who he is will we be able to trust him. What are his politics? Answer me this,” he said, turning dramatically to the camera. “How do we know if he would he prevent a mosque, for example, or an abortion clinic from burning down? Would he discriminate, maybe, based on his views?”

“So far, he hasn’t,” the interviewer said.

“Do we know that for certain? Do we know for a fact that he’ll save anybody? Regardless of his biases? Everyone has biases, and he must have them too.”

“Well, it seems-”

“I’m telling you, this is far too much power to put into the hands of someone only human. What happens when he gets cocky, and decides we can’t do without him? Do you people out there, all of you, really want to put your lives in the hands of a man whose face you’ve never seen?”

“Well,” the interviewer began, but Jonah wasn’t listening to her anymore.

“I’m telling you,” he said to the cameras again. “No-one’s that good. No-one. He’s only human. As weak as the rest of us.”

*****

Peter watched until the interview was over. He was surprised to discover that he wasn’t as angry as he’d expected, although he wasn’t exactly on top of the world, either. He flicked the cheap TV in his bedroom off, and sat down on the bed.

He would think about it later.

*****

That night he went out, costume on of course, plummeting off buildings whilst hiding under the mask. He almost enjoyed himself, for the first few minutes. He planned to get back by midnight, but by one ‘o clock he was still busy- he was sitting on a building watching for car crashs or police sirens or any sign of trouble. Well, not ‘busy’ exactly- but he didn’t want to go home. He liked the fresh air.

He liked the quiet moments, even though it was freezing cold where he was.

He was still watching intently- he was wary of the speeding cars and the loitering kids in one of the alleys- when all of a sudden he heard a scream. New York seemed to go quiet for half a second or two; the kids in the alleyway fled but no-one else seemed to have noticed.

Spider-Man scrambled down to the ground. Another scream. He followed the sound of the noise: over an abandoned block of shops, down an alleyway with a burnt out car inside- there was a body on the floor-

It was a young man with curly hair and for a split second Spider-Man was terrified that somehow it was Harry. But it wasn’t- just one look at this guy and you could tell he was a drug addict. And he was lying in a pool of blood. He’d been stabbed.

“Hold on,” Spider-Man said to him gently, and then considered his options. Out of all the things he had to do, situations like this were quite possibly the ones he hated the most. How long would it take for an ambulance to get here? Would it be safe to move the guy? If only he’d taken First Aid. If he phoned the police, should he do it as Peter or as Spider-Man? People would wonder what Peter was doing here, in this neighbourhood, a good boy like him…questions would be asked.

“Shit, man,” the guy on the ground gurgled. “Shit…” He didn’t seem to be particularly aware of his surroundings, and more blood was spreading across the ground. Spider-Man decided to carry him. He picked him up carefully- he was thin and light enough to be carried under one arm. That was a big plus.

The man burbled something, and tried to wipe the blood away from his lip.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” Spider-Man told him. “I’m taking you to hospital.”

The man said something that sounded a bit like youdon’thaveto.

“Of course I have to!”

He went on his way carefully, darting from building to building and trying not to jerk around too much. The hospital wasn’t too far away, if he remembered this part of town correctly. He glanced down and saw the man’s eyes were closed- but he wasn’t dead, Peter could feel him breathing. He was reminded then of the only time he had carried a dead body through the streets of New York.

*****

He marched straight into the lobby- people stepped back in surprise and made way for him. That felt rather good. A couple of doctors, and the woman behind the counter, ran forward anxiously.

“I found him in an alleyway,” Spider-Man said, as someone in the background called for a stretcher. “He’d been stabbed. I think.”

There was a general commotion- the man was taken by two other people, and Spider-Man felt an hand on his arm. “If you’d stay here, sir, we’ve been waiting for the opportunity to question you-”

“No,” Spider-Man said.

“Sir…”

Spider-Man backed away.

“Leave him alone, Oliver!” came a female voice. It was a random nurse, a pretty black girl with long black hair. “Just let him go.”

Spider-Man took the opportunity to dart to the window. He jumped out of it and ended up in a tree. People dashed to the window, and he hid in the leaves. He waited there for a few minutes, and then scrambled out. He landed easily on the ground and went round to the front of the hospital, via the roof.

He wondered if there was any way of finding out about the stabbing victim- whether he was going to be alright or not. He glanced through a couple of skylights, but didn’t see anything. He hadn’t really expected to see anything, in all honesty. He’d just have to look in the paper tomorrow to find out if the guy had lived.

Eventually he dropped back down to the ground, in a secluded area- a sort of hospital garden- and wondered if he ought to go home now. He wasn’t all that tired, but he figured he would be soon.

Suddenly, a door behind him burst open, and he spun around. But it was nobody dangerous, as it turned out. It was the girl- the girl who’d said to let him go. She looked mostly very surprised.

“They sent a bunch of us to look for you! I didn’t think you were still here. That man you brought in, he’s a drug dealer, they’ve been after him for ages.”

Spider-Man suddenly did feel very tired.

“Why are they looking for me?” he said giddily.

“I don’t know. They might want to arrest you, but they didn’t say so. You’re better off going, I think. I’ll say I never found you. It’s not like they’ll assume I’m lying.”

Spider-Man nodded. “The man, is he all right?” It was all he could think of at the moment- the man who looked like Harry.

“I…think so. He was in pretty bad shape. The doctors think he was stabbed with a bottle.”

“Oh.” Spider-Man wondered why he’d been stabbed in the first place. The most obvious explanation was that he owed someone money, but heck, he’d never find out. There were countless stories he’d had a part in yet never known the ending to.

“Not many people would have done that,” the girl said to him uncertainly. “Brought in someone they’d just found in an alleyway, a drug dealer…they’d have been too scared to. Mask or not. You’re different.”

Spider-Man was suddenly and inexplicably worried that she was going to rip the mask off. He shifted away, just a little.

“Who are you?” the girl asked. “Who are you really? I swear not to tell anyone. I just want to know.”

Spider-Man shook his head. “Nobody knows,” he said. “Nobody.”

“Alright,” the girl said, disappointed. But she didn’t leave. “Um. They were talking about you on TV this afternoon.”

“I know. I watched.”

“It’s just…” the girl said. Her struggle for the right words was obvious. “You will save anyone, won’t you? I mean, if they’re in danger. You’ll save anyone no matter who or what they are?”

Spider-Man looked at her. He didn’t even know this girl’s name, and yet she was speaking to him like he was something untouchable, something more than human, even. He wasn’t sure if he liked it.

So he put his hand on her shoulder, just for one second. “I think you know the answer to that,” he said, and took off into the sky. Then he dropped back down again. “Sorry for the cheesiness. Had to be said.” Then he vanished into the trees, and swung away into the night.

*****

The World And Superhumanity by Anna D. Webb:

J. Jonah Jameson did say one other thing which I think deserves some thought: “Do you people out there, all of you, really want to put your lives in the hands of a man whose face you’ve never seen?” He could have been talking about religion. He was not, but back in 2003 it must have indeed seemed that a whole city, and a good percentage of the outside world, had put their lives in the hands of a man whose face they’ve never seen.

It was a whole new era. And things grew steadily more complicated.

Now, reader, onto more recent events…