6It wasn't often when Harry and Flash were left alone. At least, not on their own will.
Flash was distant when it came to talk to Harry. The Osborn didn't retaliate or go against it, because he knew it wasn't really that he was mad at him. Or that he hated him.
It was, rather, hurting.
Because he was closer to Peter than Flash was.
There was an awkward silence, which neither of them were wistful to break. Fury's orders were pretty clear, at least until that point: leave Peter, talk to his aunt, probably ask his Dad whenever he had the results of the analysis of whatever Peter had, and get back to the triskelion. Two out of three things were checked, so they were on their way to get the third done.
Something kind of difficult, considering the lack of enthusiasm between both of them.
Once they reached the house of Aunt May, they both were eager to ring. Once they noticed the other wanted to ring the bell, they stopped short and between signs told the other it was okay and they could do it. At the end, Flash ended ringing and after some seconds of silence, the door was open, and the surprised face of Aunt May received both of them.
'Eugene, Harry! What a wonderful surprise!' she said, smiling after opening the door. 'What can I do for you guys?'
'Good evening, Aunt May.' answered Flash almost immediately, echoed by Harry. He then looked as though he was searching for the correct words to say. 'Um… we came… Fury asked us to have a conversation with you.'
Even though she was surprised, she nodded immediately and opened wide the door, and with one of her hands she told them to come in.
'May I serve you something? A snack? A drink?' came her voice from the kitchen. They sat in one of the couches and shook their heads.
'It isn't necessary, Aunt May. I am afraid we cannot stay longer than for what we have to talk about.' Even after the negative, the woman came with three glasses of lemonade, and ever reticent, they both took a glass and sipped a little. Harry coughed and sighed. 'Aunt May, there is something we need to tell you, it's… it's about Peter.'
The woman ached an eyebrow, mildly intrigued by the dark tone his voice held.
'Did something happen to him? Did he… is he injured?' both could easily notice her voice tone was completely controlled, and neither could decide whether that was a good sign or a bad sign.
'It's… more complicated than just an injury. He's… he's at my Dad's corp, getting analyzed.' those words only did bad to her already suspicious glare, and Harry stopped to regain his thoughts. 'I assure you that he is in good condition, he has no concussions, no cuts, no burns.'
'But… he's forgotten everything about being Spiderman.' Finished Flash seeing he wasn't just doing it. May glanced at Harry, asking with her sad blue eyes if what he was saying was true. Harry just glanced away, not being able to hold her conspicuous gaze.
She seemed repentantly lost in her own thoughts. Her brows were furrowed, and her lips were a thin line, and yet again, neither Harry nor Flash knew how to take that.
'We don't… this is something that took everybody by surprise. Only a few of us know about this. He… it wasn't something that accumulated from… we have no idea how it happened. I… went to wake him in the morning, and he didn't seem to recognize anything more besides a day prior entering Middle Town.'
All this information escaped from Flash's lips like it ran out of his mouth, unwilling to stay any longer inside. And even so, May didn't quite react. She just stood still, and looked at Flash dead in the eyes.
After what felt like ages of silence, Harry bit his lip, and sheepishly talked.
'I'm sorry, Aunt May. We… don't know how it happened, or who could have done it, but… we'll do whatever we can to help him cope with whatever happens. I'm really, really sorry and I…'
May Parker shook her head and wore a comforting smile. She then reached for his hand and grabbed it. 'It's ok, Harry. You couldn't know something like that would happen. You don't need to apologise, neither do you, Flash' she said as Flash opened his mouth to say something, without even having the need to look at him to know his very movement. 'I'm thankful you informed me about this, and let's hope for the best. After all, nothing, absolutely nothing, is truly forgotten.'
There was such a compelling force in her last statement that neither of them could deny her from her wistful thinking. If something, they both felt even a little motivated at this, something that she noticed and was grateful for. Trying to redirect their attention, she smiled sweetly and took a sip from her own lemonade.
'Now that we have that settled, why don't we chit-chat a little? You both look like you've seen a ghost.'
'Don't you want any details in the matter?' asked dumbfounded Flash, and almost immediately retreated from asking. May acted none the wiser, for she shrugged.
'Hmmm… probably, but it would do you both no good. Also, since Peter left to live in the triskelion, I have so little visitants. Would you like to humour an old and lonely lady?' she finally added, and Harry could almost notice that she acted unworried for the sake of them, just like she said. Not to press the matter any more that it already had been, he nodded and smiled a sheepish smile.
'I don't know if Peter told you this before, but MJ went on her first mission about two days ago…'
Peter stared at the mirror in front of him, at his shirtless self more precisely.
And it wasn't that he was scared at whatever he was looking at. He was just… impressed, by it. Without much thought, he slid one of his fingers unto one of his forearms, trying to decipher how he gained so many muscles.
Ok. He had noticed before, kind of. When he first dressed in that stupid costume, he noticed them, only briefly, and so had decided not to paid attention to it. However, now that he hadn't a time limit he just stood there and… tried to comprehend.
'Hey, Peter. How are you feeling?' came Norman's voice through the door whilst with one of his knuckles he knocked. Even without awaiting for an answer, the scientific came into the dressing room and inspected him. Peter glanced at the mirror again, not really sure what to say.
'Don't really remember having this many muscles. How… what did I do to have them? Perhaps I could keep doing it' he didn't remember where all this smugness towards Mr. Osborn came from, but he just said it, and judging by the way the brow in one of the man's eyes arched, it became something He was used to.
'That's what we were going to explain to you, I was just taking care of something quickly so I could give you my full attention. Are you ready?'
Peter nodded and before exiting the room he put on the upper part of the costume. Mr. Osborn walked around the corridors seeing like that kind of person that knew a place by heart (uh, he kind of did, considering he did as much as owning the company) and finally stopped in front of a door in which he inserted several codes before being granted access. He told him to follow inside, and so the teenager followed him.
'I think the last time I entered this file was in your grad day' admitted the scientist walking towards a computer and turning it on. 'Perhaps seven or eight months, so there's this chance that the information may be a bit outdated.'
'Information about what?'
'Your DNA, of course.'
Skipping the fact that Mr. Oborn sounded creepy and stalkerish with that kind of answer, Peter tried not to wander around the room. Something he failed miserably at after the first two and a half minutes of trying to stand still. He heard the sound of keys being pressed, and he kind of paid attention in case Mr. Osborn said something he needed to know, but besides that he just skimmed through the various specimens there were exhibited (which, mind you, weren't really more than eight jars) and finally returned by Mr. Osborn's side, looking at the computer that showed one hundred words per second.
'What is it you're looking for?' asked finally the teenager, seeing words and comprehending some of them, but not really finding the connection between most of them. Mr. Osborn, meanwhile, shrugged.
'An specific file. Perhaps is there where I could find the answer everybody is fretting over.'
Peter didn't tell him how funny was that Mr. Osborn said fretting being they were in… well, New York. It sounded so old fashioned, and so, so boring. Then stopped short for a second and considered his status, as well as the existence of the high sphere of society.
'Who's everyone, anyways? Aunt May? Uncle Ben? Flash, Harry… and who else?'
Just like everyone he's asked up 'till this point (i.e. Flash), he saw him grimace as though he drank all the juice from a sour lemon (or another failed grade from Harry, they were kinda the same). He was about to say that it wasn't really necessary if it was that much of people, he'd find it out eventually anyways.
'The whole world. Perhaps even more than that.'
The teenager couldn't help the laugh that exploded after that phrase.
'Pffff! Whole world? What am I? An actor? A renowned scientific with less than twenty?' He raised his hands before letting Mr. Osborn answer his rhetorical question. 'No offense. I know I am a prodigy with certain scientific issues, but for the whole world to know about me? No way.' Then he stopped for just a second, reconsidering the possibility and feeling how his brains might explode if he spoke his mind. 'Unless I worked here in OsCorp and, of course, found some interesting and never spoken-about stuff. That'd make sense, but by looking at you, it feels like it wasn't… at all.'
Norman shook his head. 'The former guess was the most accurate, actually.' Seeing the even more confused stance in the teenager, he sighed. 'I have a few videos I need you to look at. Come closer.'
Not sure of nor the topics neither the relevance it had in their former conversation, he did as he was told and scooped a few inches away from Mr. Osborn. Almost immediately the computer displayed a video taken from an action movie. It looked so real, Peter almost believed the scene: the supposedly enemies, the cops, the citizenry screaming from both being afraid and awed, and the broken buildings and…
… and the movements of the person with a suit alike his own.
Confused, he looked at himself. Yes, that indeed was the same costume. The question was… why was he acting in some (really realist) action movie? As far as he knew, he was never one for acting. He then eyed suspicious at Mr. Osborn, with more questions than before watching the video.
'Um… Stand man? I appreciate my life, thank you very much.'
'Stand man?'
'Yeah, I recognise my body when I see it but… I would never, never act as a double of someone. Specially if involves risking myself to death.'
Mr. Osborn seemed like he wanted to retaliate, but couldn't find the words. Seeing the indecision in him, Peter started to panic.
'This isn't a cut from an action movie, is it?'
'No, Peter. This is a record taken from the police department. Do you know something about Spiderman?'
'Hmm… well, Director Fury mentioned that name earlier. I thought it was a key name and I came to the conclusion that perhaps I could work there, whenever there was, but… fighting or whatever I was doing there? Never.'
Norman, yet again, seemed indecisive. God forbids, he looked like he was trying to change a bad grade from Harry just by glaring at it. Peter came to the conclusion that he might, in fact, lose his patience if he didn't understand the current situation, but at the same time, like he was telling himself to hold it up just a little… for his sake. Like he was training himself to be patient with Peter.
'Peter,' he began, one hundred serious and three thousand percent mysterious. 'Spiderman, is a hero. A person. Their friendly neighbourhood Spiderman.'
Fearing the answer he might get, Peter still answered 'so…?'
If there was any little percentage that Norman was missing in seriousness, he now gained it again.
'Peter, you are Spiderman.'
He knew Norman was going to say that. He didn't know how—perhaps it was the turn the conversation was taking, perhaps it was the spider logo in the Spandex suit he wore, perhaps it was this All mighty aura he wore, or perhaps it was neither of those—but somehow he just knew beforehand what Mr. Osborn was going to say.
And yet 'Who's the what now?'
Not even letting Mr. Osborn talk, he began laughing. 'Me? Normal boring Peter Parker, a hero? A Spiderman? What, I ate one hundred spiders and then bam! Superpowers.'
'Peter…'
'Don't get me wrong, Mr. Osborn, but this is…' he let out a breath he didn't know was holding. '…this is so fantastic to even be believable.'
'Peter…'
'And why everyone seems to know every single detail? Even Flash, Flash from anyone knows about this, and…'
'Peter, calm down.' this time, his voice wasn't leveled as though he was talking to a child, but it was enervating enough to get him to shush. 'This didn't happen altogether, little details went through eventually.'
'First things first, you didn't "eat one hundred spiders", a single radioactive spider bit you. It was something that cannot be repeated to another person, even if we tried.'
'Is that… why can't it be repeated? Is the spider dead?'
'Not precisely (I don't really know), but it was your DNA what worked diligently with the spider venom inflicted into your blood.'
Not entirely convinced, Peter nodded. 'For… for how long?'
'Longer that I've been studying you.'
Peter stared at him. And… stared. 'That doesn't truly answer what I was asking.'
Norman stood from his seat at the computer and started to exit the lab. 'Unfortunately I cannot tell you, Peter. Truth is, not even I am aware of your beginnings. Perhaps you were bitten back in an excursion, but I am not sure as to what happened after it, I cannot tell if the secondary effects were immediate, or if they happened weeks after. One thing I know is that you were keen on catching that man who…' he stopped short, looking at the younger one. He shook his head afterwards, disregarding his former thoughts. 'What matters is that you now don't do what you used to. We could perhaps reach a hypothesis, but it won't be the ultimate conclusion we have to reach. You say you cannot remember anything?'
Even if Peter knew he was being forbidden for apparently core information, he nodded, instead of trying to get it out of the man. 'I cannot say how much I don't remember, but I am aware of how much I am able to say. If it… helps or something.'
Norman nodded. 'It will have to be enough. If this were normal procedure, I would ask you if you didn't do anything yesterday that could have provoked this loss of powers, but truth is… this isn't a normal situation, and with your lack of memory, you cannot answer any question.'
The scientist proceeded to open the door. Peter felt like he needed to add something else, but he wasn't sure what. Anyway, what else could he add?
He sighed.
'What should we do now, Mr. Osborn?'
Norman shook his head.
'Apply more proves, and wait. It is the only thing I am able to grasp on. Can you think of something more?'
Peter thought about a hundred and one possibilities, but they reached no longer than that: possibilities. Neither of his thoughts were capable of being a solution that could satisfy either of the people surrounding him. And that same thought left a sour taste in his thongue, one he wished he could take away.
'I'd like… more information about Spiderman. Perhaps if I see more about him, I can remember something, doesn't matter how insignificant it can be.'
It was amusing, talking about himself like he was someone else—a stranger. It was just as equally disheartening, realising that the person he once was, it was but a mere stranger to him.
He blinked several times before telling himself those thoughts were useless now. Instead, he stared at Mr. Osborn, waiting for his final answer.
'I think I have some more videos about Spiderman, but I think you'll also have to ask S.H.I.E.L.D. to handle to you some of them. J. Jonah has also some videos, but I can get those for you.'
'That's more than I could ask for, thanks.'
'We just want you to come back to us, Peter.'
He knew that by us he spoke for several people he was yet to know—or remember, he wasn't entirely sure how to entitle the situation.
'I assure you, Peter. There is so many people that love you, and that want you to be safe.'
His mind traveled to what felt like weeks ago, and he remembered how many people he could count on. Harry, MJ, Aunt May, Uncle Ben and perhaps one or two teachers. Besides that… he wasn't able to remember anybody else (excluding Mr. Osborn because he barely knew him). Most people in school made fun of him, and some few teachers weren't precisely ideal.
But if these people he apparently did know told him he was loved, these people that knew more about him than he did himself, then he just had to trust them.
He smiled, and nodded.
Aaaaaaaand this ended somehow saddening. Oh boi, apparently I'm incapable to sticking with the humor that remains in Ultimate Spiderman. I wanted to but I can't.
Hey! I know I'm late, like... real late, but at least I didn't let this on Hiatus. I am trying to write again, these past months have been full of things to do, and it was impossible for me to concentrate on writting something that I liked. I hope the next chapter will come sooner than this one did.
Babye!
