Spider-Man fanfic (Raimiverse): The Storyteller, 2/5
Title: The Storyteller
Author: sarah531
Rating: PG13
Fandom: Spider-Man, 2002 movieverse / Raimiverse/ whatever you want to call that particular universe
Pairings: Peter/Harry, Peter/MJ, Ursula/Peter
Summary: Peter’s kidnapped, MJ’s injured, Harry’s dead, and Ursula Ditkovich has mere hours to save half of New York.
AN: This has literally been sitting around in various forms for years. Having unexpectedly found myself back in Spider-fandom, I thought it was high time I finished it…
Ursula ran back into Peter’s room. Most of the electronics in the room were scattered on the floor, but the little clock by the bed said the time was two am. With the smoke dying out, the dark was closing in. Her father was still kneeling on the floor next to MJ.
“Ambulance, is it coming?”
“Dad-” She didn’t know where to start. “Dad, this is important, you gotta take this in- Peter is Spider-Man.”
He looked up, incredulous. “No!”
“Yes.”
“No! He’s so tiny and so poor!”
“It’s him, I’ve known for ages.”
“Then why he never make rent?”
“Who cares! Dad, he said we couldn’t trust anyone, not even the police, and MJ’s really hurt!” She knelt down, grabbed her father’s shoulders, and related the important parts of the phone conversation. He gaped at her like a fish, even as he pressed a cloth to MJ’s bleeding head.
“That stupid boy,” he said when she was done. “Should be making honest living! Should be protecting his woman! Not running around in tight tights, getting landlord into trouble! Who will pay for this damage he’s done, huh?”
“Dad!”
Her father stood up, holding MJ in his arms. “Okay. Enough talk. I take her to Andrei, doctor Andrei. Not safe to stay here, I think.”
“Andrei?”
“Your mother’s cousin’s husband’s boy, we are relatives, you not remember him?”
“Dad, he’s only a medical student, he’s not a proper doctor!”
“He good boy.”
Ursula weighed up the options. “Okay, um, he won’t ask questions?”
“We are relatives! With money passing hands! And as I said…good boy.”
Ursula ran to the other room, retrieved her father’s stash of emergency cash (less than she had hoped for), and stuffed it into his pockets as he made his way down the stairs.
“What,” he said, “you think I need to make bribes?”
“Yes! This is really serious! You mustn’t let anyone on the streets see MJ for a start, what if they’re still after her?”
“They?”
“The people who did this!”
“Child! I am big man! I am more than capable of protecting girl!” He almost slipped on the stairs. “I take her in car. You…you not stay here. Understand?”
“Where should I go?”
Suddenly, MJ stirred.
“Don’t…don’t get involved…” she said weakly. “You just saw what it can do.”
“You are going to doctor,” Ursula’s father said to her. She was still in his arms, and the whole tableau looked mighty weird. “Right now. I take you in car.”
“Right,” MJ said. Her eyes weren’t focusing well. “Ursula, Mr Ditkovich, you can go stay with…with…” She was struggling to stay awake. “Have you got anywhere to go?”
“No.” Ursula said. And her father nodded.
“Okay, you-” But she was falling back into unconciosuness. “You-” Ursula’s father shook her.
“Stay awake! Lady!” Ursula grabbed her hand, although it did no good. “I take her to doctor, now!”
He ran to the door. Outside in the dark, in what sort of passed for the yard, a rusty old car sat and Ursula flung open the door for them. MJ was pushed into the front seat, still drifting in and out of conciousness.
“Ursula, don’t-” she began, but then Ursula’s father started up the car and in a cloud of smoke they were gone. Or mostly gone, because her father shouted back:
“You stay safe! You just small girl!”
And then they really were gone.
*
Ursula went to Peter’s room. The window was missing, as was some of the wall. She knew the neighbours wouldn’t have called the police, she was safe for the time being, although safe from what she didn’t know.
She moved the sketchbook from where it lay on the floor- even touching it felt wrong now, although she didn’t know why. And then she gathered up the other books that lay scattered. She had a feeling and she was pretty sure it was right: someone had been after what Harry had left behind. His company had been working on something and they’d hurt two people already to get to it-
Did they know the same thing she knew? They probably did. Maybe Harry had told them. Maybe the whole world knew that Peter was Spider-Man and she was just the last one to find out. It seemed like the sort of trick the universe might play…
She liked him, she really really liked him, and now he was gone. Maybe he was dying. Maybe he was dead. But, to her amazement, she gritted her teeth and went to work.
She opened one of the books. It had nothing on the outside to identify it as once belonging to Harry; it was a plain blue notebook with a plastic cover. But she knew it was his, it had sat beneath the sketchbook in the box of his old things. She offered, in her head, another apology as she leafed through the pages-
There are other things I could do. Doesn’t have to end so badly. If he dies I die, I always knew that, but I don’t really want to die, not all the time.
Ursula winced. She flipped over a few pages, looking for any mention of Oscorp or science projects or, in fact, anything at all that didn’t involve Peter, Mary Jane, or Harry’s father. But only towards the end did the full story start to form:
I didn’t want to be like this, I wanted to be normal, normal guy with a normal girlfriend. But I’ve only ever liked one girl and she’s taken, and I guess no-one ever gets to know about the boys.
I can’t ever be normal now, Dad made sure of that. I think people are starting to realese (While Harry was a good writer, he couldn’t spell worth a damn) that other things are going on with me, things even worse than all the drinking. They said if I wanted to stay on at the company, I had to go to therapy…
She flipped forward again, not wanting to dwell too long on someone else’s misery. A couple of pages ahead-
Therapy is going ok, as ok as it can be considering. Its just one guy, part of the company, his name’s Hamilton. I hear Dad’s voice whenever he talks. Actually, I hear Dad’s voice all the time. There’s all this unrest in the company, people talking about layoffs and downsizing and…things. It doesn’t look good. People glare at me in the coridors, they think its my fault, even though Oscorp isn’t actually mine cept in name.
The next page talked about Peter in graphic detail, very graphic detail. She blushed, flipped it over, and offered an out-loud “Sorry” to the ceiling.
I think Hamilton knows I’m gay, he asked right out last session. I didn’t know what to say so I guess that proved it. I’m not going back to therapy now, so they probably won’t want me at work either. There’s pretty much nothing left for me now except to kill Peter and die. I don’t know how to do it. He probably shouldn’t suffer too much.
But Peter deserves to die, look what he did to the world, look what he did to me. Even when he’s not around he’s still there, sometimes I think he’s just mocking me. Someone’s been on my computer…or I think someone has. I forget. It had to be him.
Ursula noticed something then. (She almost missed it, she was absorbed in the story). There was something sticking out between the last page and the back cover, a thin, folded piece of paper. She read the last paragraph of Harry’s diary-
I feel bad for Peter’s aunt the most. And MJ, but she’s really strong, she’ll be okay. I can do it tomorrow night…I’ll go see MJ’s play first. I’ll give it my best shot, I’ll do what Dad would have done. But the world’s better off without any of us, no Spider-Man, no Goblins…
-and took the paper out and unfolded it.
It was an printed email. Harry’s email was the recipient, but the sender was a name she didn’t recognise. The message itself was long and detailed, and she scanned it for choice phrases:
…Though the general public is unaware (and will remain so), we know the truth behind the massacre at Quest Aerospace in 2002. The information is there for anyone wishing to look. While the loss of life is regrettable, Norman Osborn’s actions saved our company, and many jobs.
With the company in jeopardy once again, we are grateful you understand our need to take desperate measures…
“Oh,” Ursula said aloud.
It got worse. There was a list of names, names and addresses of high-up CEOs of other industries. A hit list.
You will of course be aware that while the name Green Goblin is copyrighted to the Daily Bugle, the armour and the weaponry are still the property of Oscorp. This contact contitutes a lease of that equipment, in the best interests of the company…
Ursula let the wheels turn in her head. Harry’s company was on the brink of collapse. Someone had hired him- well, the Goblin- to kill the competition. Had he done it? She knew very little about Harry, but she doubted that he, like his father, was a mass murderer.
At least she had an idea of what was going on now. She scanned the list of names and addresses, trying to remember if she’d seen any of them in the papers. If so many people had been killed in mysterious circumstances she’d have heard about it, surely?
Finally, knowing that time was of the essence, she gathered up the paper and ran downstairs to the building’s one computer. After an age it booted up, and after another age it connected to the Internet. She Googled every name on the list; all were alive and well.
So now what? Was someone going to just kill them all anyway? What did they want Peter for? If they knew he was Spider-Man (and they probably did, they seemed to know everything) they probably wanted him kept out of the way, or maybe even dead…
She longed for the phone to ring again but it didn’t. She went back upstairs and tried to think, her eyes blinking fast to keep out the tears. (After all, it was by anyone’s standards a horrible day.) How many people were in on this? Should she take a risk and call the police, should she take a risk and call Peter?
What would MJ do?
She found her dad’s backpack lying amongst the DVDs in his room, and retrieved it. She dropped Harry’s diary, the printout and a pen inside. And then a kitchen knife. She zipped the bag up, but then stood there helplessly. She took the knife out and then put it back in again. Her hands were shaking…
The phone rang.
She ran to the hall and grabbed it. “Peter?” she yelled. Then it occured to her it might not be him. “Um.”
“Ursula,” Peter said. “Tell me MJ’s okay.”
“My dad took her to someone we know, a med student, she’ll be okay.” She was amazed how calm she sounded. “Peter, where are you?”
“I’m at the Quest Aerospace science lab. Building five, on Lee Street,” Peter told her, also sounding calm. “Things are worse than we realised. They drugged me, Ursula, drugged me and locked me up- but they forgot to check me for a cell phone, and they forgot that I have friends.” Now the calmness had gone. “I’m going to explain this best I can, before someone hears me. I can’t move my legs and my arms are starting to go. This building is rigged to explode.”
“What?”
“It’s true. I may not make it out of this, Ursula, I’m sorry. In the top desk of my drawers there’s some letters, can you make sure they get to the people they’re meant for? Please.”
“But you’re not-”
“Please.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” Peter was silent for a second, Ursula thought someone might be walking past the room he was locked in. “Okay. It gets worse, I’m afraid, are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“These people at Oscorp know who I am- I think they must have found out from Harry somehow,” Ursula of course knew some of this story, but she didn’t want to interupt. “Anyway, they- I think Harry was involved, before he, um- they want to kill off all their competitors. And the plan is to frame me for it, that’s why they took my laptop. I’m not sure, but I think they’ve set it up to trigger the explosion.” Silence again for a few seconds. “By the end of the night I’ll be dead, although presumably they’ve kept me far enough from the explosion so my body will be able to be identified. I’m in costume, by the way.” Despite the horror of the situation, this confirmed something Ursula had often wondered, whether Peter slept in his costume or not. “And Peter Parker’s laptop will have something on it that triggered the explosion and killed thousands of people.”
“Thousands of people?”
“Yes, I’m afraid it gets even worse,” Peter said. “The people who kidnapped me don’t know, they’re not scientists, but I am. I’ve seen a lot of crazy experiments and this place has tons of dangerous stuff. Remember the Sandman? He got started in this place. They were up to something very bad, that night…ever since they’ve been working on technology that can turn whole buildings to dust, I know, I keep up with these things. If this building explodes, there may well be a million Sandmans…or worse.” Ursula heard nothing for a second except her beating heart. “Half the city might turn to dust.”
Silence. Ursula didn’t know what to say, and she thought Peter might have to stop talking again. But then he said, “Are you there?”
“Yes,” she said. “Um…are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
There were a million other things she could have said. But she said, “What do you need me to do?”
She didn’t expect what came next. She was nothing compared to Peter. He had saved hundreds of lives, was an actual genius, had friends prepared to die for him- she was just sort of there, still living with her father, working in his shop downstairs, watching from the window while others clung to the walls. But he said,
“I need you to arm yourself as best you can, and I need you to come and rescue me.”