Chapter Text
It was only late afternoon when Peter had already managed to get shot. In his defense, he’d only just caught the outer edges of the shrapnel, and his Spidey senses had been all over the place thanks to the multiple directions of the danger. Unfortunately, it was to his back that was wounded, meaning he needed help digging it out. So now he was sitting on a rooftop with his suit tugged down to his waist while someone else did the dirty work for him. Of course, it was typical Parker luck that the one helping him had been a persistent annoyance he couldn’t quite shake.
“I can kill him for you.”
Peter hissed as Deadpool poured vodka over his bullet wound. He would have just webbed it and moved on, but the scrap gun had just screamed tetanus. Not that having the mercenary behind him wasn’t making him uncomfortable enough. Despite how quiet his Spidey-sense was being, experience has proven the merc could flip moods faster than a whiplash.
“How about you don’t do that, Pool.” Peter grit his teeth at the feeling of the merc digging around for scraps in his flesh. He was being gentle, but it felt gross and wrong. It still made him sticky with sickly sweat even after how many times he’d had to do similar procedures to himself.
“Aw, c’mon Webs”, Deadpool cooed, casually tossing gore-covered bits of metal to the floor as he gesticulated with the tweezers. Peter fought down a wave of nausea. “I can make it look like an accident. Even make it look like they did it themselves in a kink gone wrong scenario, if that’s what gets your rocks off, naughty boy. They’d never link it back to you! I did this real tasty hit when I was Special Forces-”
Peter hastily cut off whatever that story was going to be, “What? No, I don’t want anyone dead.”
“Ah, okay. Gotcha. So you don’t want him to turn up dead. Hear you loud and clear . Wink. ”
Peter scowled, clenching and unclenching his hands to distract from the feeling as a particularly large chunk of metal tugged his skin on the way out. “Pool. You’re not killing anyone. And you are definitely not using me as an excuse. Let the criminal justice system do its work.”
Deadpool snorted, wiping at the wound with a scrap of disinfected cloth. “Heh, the system... Doing work. It’d be funny if I didn’t think you were serious. ”
Peter glared over his shoulder at the merc. “Of course I mean it. No. Killing. Or you’ll be the next one I gift wrap for the police.”
Deadpool’s mask looked up from where he was taping down gauze, eyes squinting in delight, and how the fuck was it so expressive? “Ooh, Spidey. I’m not that kind of girl! I only do bondage on the third date.” He winked, Peter rolling his eyes. “Okay, second date for you. But only for you, baby boy.”
Peter grunted, “Are we done here? Can I put my suit back on?”
“I mean, I’ve fixed you up, but feel free to continue showcasing that rockin’ bod.”
“Great.” Peter tugged up his suit, zipping it back up and ignoring Wade’s wolf whistle.
“So, you callin’ it a night, baby boy?” Deadpool rolled to his feet with a skip to his step, “I could totally go for some grub. My treat.”
Peter ignored the exaggerated wink and jazz hands, instead rolling his shoulders to try to shake away the gross feeling beneath his skin. “Nah, crime doesn’t stop for anyone. And it’s just a flesh wound.”
Deadpool scoffed, “Alright, Black Knight, not that I’m one to talk, but you did just get shot.”
“You’re right. You’re not one to talk.” Peter saluted lazily as he backed up to the edge of the roof, “Stay out of trouble, or I will kick your ass.”
Deadpool fanned himself, swooning. “Ooh baby, don’t make promises you won’t keep.”
“Deadpool-”
The merc held up his hands, “Okay, okay. No killing. But only because you beg so pretty-”
Peter shook his head, ears perking up at the low buzz of the police radio through his earpiece. “I better not hear from you again, Pool.”
He swung away, only able to hear the merc’s “no promises!” above the rushing wind due to his super-hearing.
“10-10, nearby units to 44 and 11th, shots fired-”
Not far from Peter. He swung towards the report, just in case the cops needed assistance. Definitely not to avoid doing his housework.
He arrived at the scene after the cops had already gone in, he could see them from outside the window. He winced at the sight of an elderly woman on the floor, blood pooling beneath her face, weapon still in hand. He knocked on the window, a female cop coming over to slide it open with a tired resignation.
“Spider-man, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
Peter waved awkwardly, “Hey, Hernandez, right?” The woman gave a tired nod. “Heard there might be some trouble, just thought I’d swing by. Need any help?”
Hernandez sighed, rubbing her head beneath the cap. “No, that won’t be necessary. Pretty open-shut suicide case. Unless you wanna find the family and break the news.”
“Uh, I think I should probably leave that to the professionals.”
Hernandez looked him up and down, nodding. “Please do.” She shut the window, turning back to the room.
She tended to be a bit snippy with Spider-man, but she was always polite and caring the few times he’d been near or in a crime scene as Peter Parker. He couldn’t really hold the distinction against her, no matter how much it stung.
Peter didn’t let his eyes linger on the grisly scene, but could still feel the guilt creeping in. If only he could have been there, somehow stopped her-
But that wasn’t how the Spidey-sense worked. He couldn’t sense when people were going to be a danger to themselves. But it was still hard to shake the feeling that he should have been there, should have caught it.
But he hadn’t been.
He felt like nails, too sharp, grazed down his spine. He jerked around, locating the cause of the feeling and swinging towards it. It felt like it was from around a restaurant, but there was no scuffle. He perched across the street, eyes flicking between the customers and staff. He’d think he was being paranoid if looking at the calm scene wasn’t making his whole brain itch.
Movement caught his eye, head twitching round to the alleyway by the restaurant. He maneuvered around the buildings, keeping to the shadows as much as his blue and red suit would grant.
He watched from the roof behind them as two men in balaclavas looked over their shoulders, the third knelt down to pick the lock on the store behind the restaurant. He walked to the edge, using his Customer Service Smile.
“Hey, is this costume party open, or do I need an invite?”
The men yelled, staggering away as they spotted him. His senses flared like a flame too close to his face, hand moving to automatically web the gun from the hands of the shortest as he went to raise it. He yanked it back, leaping down to land on the shoulders of the tallest and wincing a little at the solid sound of his head bouncing against the floor.
“Well this is embarrassing, were we all meant to be coming as Peter Pan’s shadow?”
He ducked under the punch, jabbing into the attacker’s ribs before upper cutting him in the jaw. “No? Endermen? Are we meant to be endermen?” The shortest growled and tugged out a knife.
“What’s he, your guys’ toolbox?” Peter quipped, rolling off the dazed man beneath him to slide under the sweeping arc of the knife, landing a swift punch to the wrist and hearing the knife clatter to the floor. “They make you carry all the weapons? They not have their own pockets? I had a girlfriend just like that, I feel you buddy.”
He cracked his elbow down behind the guy’s neck, turning as he crumpled to the ground to drop his centre of gravity as the third guy ran at a tackle. He caught him, swinging him through his own momentum to flip him on his back and ignoring how that pulled on the wound at his back. He webbed his limp body to the shorter guy, also passed out, before turning to see the tallest starting to scramble away.
“Leaving the party early? Don’t be rude, come say goodbye.” Peter webbed him on the ankle, dragging him back to the group as the man yelled.
The man sobbed, pleading. “Please, don’t hurt me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Peter knelt in front of the now hyperventilating man, holding him by the shoulders. “Hey, hey. Calm down, it’s okay. Breath with me, okay? Match my breaths.”
Peter took deep breaths, counting in his head. The man evening his own to match, sobbing smoothing into hiccupy breaths. He still shook, voice wobbly, “Please, I’ve heard about you Mr Deadpool, sir. I just needed the money coz I owe this guy and I couldn’t get it in time, and now they’re threatening my daughter-”
Peter’s eyebrows shot up. Well. This was a first. “Well, I can see why you’d be scared, but I’m Spider-man. You know, ‘friendly neighborhood’?”
The man frowned, “I’m not from here, sorry... I just thought, you know, with the costume-”
“Hey”, Peter jabbed his finger at him, “He copied me first.” He cleared his throat, “Anyway. I can see why you’re feeling a bit desperate, believe me. But this wasn’t the smartest solution.”
The man’s head dropped, nodding at the floor.
“If you can promise me you won’t do this again, I can put in a good word. You didn’t actually do anything, as I stopped you before you could. But in exchange, you need to show me who’s got you scared like this, okay?”
The man sniffed, still trembling but now nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Peter patted him on the shoulder, before wincing and nodding towards the other two passed out figures. “Hey, sorry about that. Were these two your friends?”
The man shook his head, “Oh, God, no. They’re his men.”
Peter sighed, “Phew, well that’s good. Well, who are we lookin’ for?”
**
After hunting down the gambling den that had gotten the man in debt, busting it, tying it all up, and calling the police, Peter finally swung home by 11PM. Way too late to be doing noisy stuff like vacuuming his apartment, he reasoned.
He collapsed on his sofa with the leftover take out he’d found in his fridge, chewing through the chow mein while flicking through Netflix. He settled in to continue watching Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. MJ had originally got him started on it, but it was just the right amount of silliness to get his muscles relaxing into the well-earned groove he’d made in the sofa. He wiggled a little to alleviate the itching at his back as his wounds healed, trying to shift his focus to the show and the cold noodles.
As the show turned to a suicide attempt, his mind flicked back to the woman earlier in the day and his stomach twisted guiltily. His jaw clenched, eyes flicking to where his phone rested on the cushion next to him. He picked it up, prodding the empty take out box away on the cinder block serving as a coffee table.
Too late to call, but he tapped out a message to Aunt May. Just checking in, assuring her he was fine, asking to come round for Sunday dinner tomorrow.
He paused the show hastily when the phone started ringing not five minutes later.
“Hey, Aunt May. What are you doing up?”
“Good evening to you too, Peter dear. I was just getting ready for bed when I got your message, what happened?”
Peter bit his lip, as always Aunt May could tell when something was wrong. He could sense the unasked questions behind her tone. Was it a superhero thing, should she be worrying for his or her own life? He appreciated her not asking over an unsecured line.
“Yeah, I’m okay Aunt May. Just a little shaken.” He frowned, thinking how he could word this. “I heard about a suicide today, a lady close to your age. It just… Got to me.”
He heard her sigh over the phone. “Oh, Peter. You always were soft-hearted. I’m fine, and everyone around you knows how to ask for your help. Including me. If anything were making me feel like that, I would reach out. You don’t need to worry about that. There are services and support for people.”
He could hear what was going unsaid. He sighed, slumping further back into the sofa. He prodded at the threadbare material. “I know. I just… Worry.”
“I know dear, and it’s part of what makes you a wonderful young man. Of course you can come round for dinner tomorrow. Can I be expecting a plus one?”
Peter groaned, “Aunt May, enough. You know I’m not dating anyone.”
“Well, you can let me live in hope, Peter. You’re quite a catch, I can’t see you staying single much longer.”
“You ever think maybe it’s out of choice?”
He heard her chuckle at that. “I raised you, Peter. I know you have a lot of love to give. Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. I’m old, not stupid.”
Peter grumbled, the conversation meandering between topics with ease. By the time they hung up it had been half an hour and he felt a portion of the weight lifted off his shoulders. He turned off the TV and wandered to bed.
**
He can tell something’s up as soon as he steps into the kitchen and sees the tense line of Aunt May’s shoulders.
“Aunt May?” He throws his keys on the counter, stepping closer. “You okay?”
She sniffs, rubbing at her face but not turning away from the pancetta in a pan. “Oh, Peter. Yes, of course I’m fine.”
Peter frowned, moving to squeeze her shoulders. “You’re definitely not, for one the hob isn’t on.”
“Oh.” She laughs shakily, finally turning a little towards him, her hand moving to hold his softly. “Silly old woman, should have noticed.”
“Hey, it’s okay”, He turned her towards him, looking at her face. Her eyes were pink but there was no wetness, her brows pinched. “Come on, you can tell me. What’s going on.”
Her mouth tightened, eyes darting between his own before she sighed. “I thought it probably best not to tell you, but I guess you’ve become far too sharp these days.” She huffed again, turning down the heat on the pan boiling the potatoes.
She pushed him gently towards the living room. “Come on, I’ll tell you. I’d just like to get the weight off these old feet.”
Peter went easily, sitting down on the sofa as she sat in her usual armchair. He leaned forward, eyes trained on her face.
“Well, I found out this morning that one of my friends from Bridge Club passed away.”
He made a noise of sympathy, leaning further forward to take her hand. “I’m sorry, Aunt May.”
She smiled at him, “Thank you, Peter. But usually I can deal with these things, we’re getting to that age where it’s part of our everyday lives. But this was different.” She took a deep breath, eyes searching Peter’s face.
She hesitated, Peter sensing to keep his mouth shut. “Well, Peter. She… Killed herself.”
Peter felt his eyes widen, Aunt May squeezing his hand. “I have a feeling she may have been who you saw yesterday. I don’t want to bring back any nasty memories, but it was late afternoon. She used… It was a gun.”
Peter’s breath caught. What were the chances? If only he’d been in the right area, his Aunt wouldn’t have lost-
“Now Peter, I can see you trying to beat yourself up from here.” Aunt May scolded, squeezing his hand, mouth a hard line. “It would have only been sheer dumb luck you catching it. I just feel terrible, though. She was one of my friends, and I had no idea. She seemed so happy.”
Aunt May frowned, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. She squeezed her eyes closed, Peter rushing forward to kneel in front of her and squeeze her shoulders.
“Aunt May, no! You’re wonderful! You’re so kind and caring, and this isn’t anyone’s fault. There could have been so many people who didn’t get a chance to notice, it’s just… She chose not to reach out.” Peter scowled, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry, Aunt May.”
She brought her hands down to grip his arms, smile a little twisted. “Oh, I know, Peter. These things are no one’s fault. It’s very easy to play the blame game. She was always the funniest character, sharp as a tack. But I suppose they say that often hides the saddest stories. I’m just… In shock, really. I keep remembering how against euthanasia she was, it was one of our biggest arguments. What if they found a cure? She found the whole thing selfish… I don’t know. These things don’t tend to make sense, do they?”
Peter frowned at that, his brain ticking. That was… Odd. “Maybe something changed her mind?”
Aunt May huffed, shaking her head. “Maybe. It’s no use thinking about now.”
“Right”, Peter nodded, thoughts still whirring.
“Anyway, let me up, I need to actually fry the pancetta if we want to eat on time.”
Peter shook himself, “I can do that, Aunt May. You can just sit.”
Aunt May scoffed, pushing him away to shuffle past. “Thank you, dear. But I’d rather not have to call out the fire department this evening.”
“That was one time!”
Aunt May chuckled, already disappearing into the kitchen.
**
“Deadpool. Why am I not surprised?”
The merc spun, causing his katana to slice clean through the neck of the guy in front of him. Peter winced as Deadpool squealed and waved, jumping up and down.
“Baby boy! You came!” He stilled, head jerking behind him before returning to where Peter was crouched above him. The eyes of his mask widened, “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Peter jerked forward, going for the guy that had lurched forward from his cover to shoot at Deadpool, only for Deadpool to throw a knife carelessly over his shoulder to lodge into the attacker’s skull.
Peter landed in front of the now lifeless body, spinning to face Deadpool.
“Okay, that one may be what it looked like, because it looked damn awesome, right?”
Peter scowled, turning back to leap over the Jeep to web the two men hiding behind cover.
“I wouldn’t call killing someone ‘awesome’, Pool,” Peter bit out, sliding beneath a car to pop out and knock another criminal to the ground.
Deadpool scoffed, leaning against the Jeep behind him and addressing the now bound criminals while ignoring Peter fighting the remains of the gang. “Can you believe this guy? I hit a guy between the eyes at that range without even turning around, and he’s worried about morals? I mean, I feel bad for him, really. He’s missing out on a big part of life.”
Peter grit his teeth, unable to dodge a punch to his face in time but using the momentum of it to throw the guy and kick him into unconsciousness. His Spidey-senses barely cranking up in time for him to grab Deadpool by the throat as he descended on the prone form.
Peter scowled, confused. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He could see the grin through the black and red mask, but the voice that came out was still a dangerously low rumble that made his skin feel like it was sitting atop sandpaper. “Just pest control, baby boy.”
Peter just managed to knock the gun from Deadpool’s hand, causing the bullet to go wide and bury into the asphalt by the unconscious man’s head.
“What the fuck? He’s already unconscious!” Peter yelled, having to drag Deadpool away before his boot landed with likely deadly force into the guy’s skull.
“What’s one more death between friends?” Deadpool growled, twisting round behind Peter.
His senses flamed, burning through his mind. He threw himself forward, keeping his hold on Deadpool’s arm and throwing him over him with enough force to knock the wind out of the merc.
“Don’t fucking try to kill someone in front of me”, Peter grit his teeth, trying to keep Deadpool pinned to the ground. “He’s passed out, he’s not dangerous, just calm the fuck down!”
Deadpool grunted, dislocating a shoulder to wriggle from his grip. Peter’s senses screaming from so many directions he missed it as Deadpool drew out another gun from who-knows-where and the shot rang loud in Peter’s ears.
He jerked round, desperate to save the victim, only to see a member of the gang drop to the floor with a bloody knee and a yell.
He turned back to see Deadpool suddenly lax beneath him, smiling through his mask. He shook the gun in his hand, “We really should meet like this more often.”
Peter grunted in disgust, senses calming down to a low grumble as he got off the merc. “I swear you make everything so much more complicated than it needs to be.”
“Aww, thank you”, Deadpool spoke in a thick Southern accent, clutching his heart before rolling upright. He whistled easily as he put his gun away.
Peter shook his head, sending an alert to the emergency services as he gathered up the live criminals into a neater bundle.
“So, your face okay?”
Peter frowned, turning back to the merc. “What?”
Deadpool shifted from foot to foot, “Your face. Saw you clock a punch to the ol’ noggin earlier. You all good? I mean I know you’re made of tough stuff, but if you need someone to check it out then I am more than willing to offer my entirely selfless services-”
Peter huffed, shaking his head. “That was nothing, I’m fine.” He tested his jaw a little, starting to notice the ache now the adrenaline was easing off. Well, he could always go find another fight.
“Right, yeah, I forgot. Black Knight Mercutio type, right?”
Peter raises a brow, unable to stop the huff of amusement. “Well I’d need to be, with how Doc Ock and Green Goblin treat me.”
“Yeah, talk about an abusive relationship. You need to get outta there, Spidey.”
Peter snorted, “Sure. Now remind me why I shouldn’t also tie you up for the police?”
Deadpool froze, “Uh. My sparkling personality? No? Okay, well, they were sex traffickers, hardly human. You kill animals when you need to, right? It’s just like that.” Deadpool’s voice started gaining a whiny quality, “Besides, I’ve been real good. No destruction of property, even though it’s like, super fun. No civilians even got hurt this time!”
Peter winced, he’d been here because the kid he caught selling drugs said they’d forced him into it as payment for protection. People who traded in human flesh… He tried his best to humanise, but it was hard. Real hard.
He sighed, “I can’t keep babysitting you, Pool. Making sure you don’t kill people is a full time job that I do not have the time for.”
Deadpool scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot, “I mean, I like to think of it as hangin’ with my bros. Y’know. Crackin’ open a cold one. My milkshakes.”
“You’re mixing metaphors, are you friends with the boys or trying to seduce them?”
“Yes.”
Peter sighed, Deadpool groaning with him. “Look, baby boy. It’s my job, and I am trying my best with the collateral damage. It’s just so much easier when they’re dead.”
Peter managed not to flinch at murder being described as easy. He could hear the sirens getting nearer, but only from his super-hearing. “Look, this time I won’t be doing anything. But only because you’re more trouble than you’re worth and Hernandez has enough on her plate.”
Deadpool frowned, “Hernandez?”
“But you do this shit again and I’ll have to call the Avengers.”
Deadpool groaned, ducking forward with his hands clasped. “Oh, please not the Tin Can. He’s the biggest buzzkill this side of the Mississippi. And the other side, probably.”
Peter rolled his eyes, “Just get your shit together.”
Deadpool stood to attention, saluting and clicking his heels. “Yes, sir! The shit shall be gathered!”
A car horn sounded behind Peter, who turned to see a taxi pull into the carpark.
“And that’s my ride.” Deadpool skipped by, turning around to wink at Peter. “See you soon babycakes, and your ass I hope.”
Peter flipped him the bird, turning back to the groaning pile. He still had time.
He leant down in front of them, “So. Sex trafficking, huh? Any idea where I can find your buddies?”
One of them spat, “Fuck you.”
Peter cocked his head. “Well, see, thing is. If you don’t tell me, the guy who just left will find them first. And, well, you just saw how he handles things. So I’d rather make sure they don’t turn up dead.”
The third paled, starting to babble even as he was elbowed and jostled by the man he was tied to. “I don’t know how to find him, but I know where his girl is. You gotta make sure she’s okay!”
“Shut up, Mikey!”
“He’ll kill you!”
“I don’t care!” Mikey turned back to Peter, eyes desperate, “She don’t deserve to die. Please, Spider dude.”
Peter nodded, memorising where to go and swinging his way further downtown to the right apartment. He soon found himself slipping inside the open window, the place eerily quiet. He crept forward, his Spidey-sense silent but his own paranoia making his muscles tense.
“Hey there, friendly neighbourhood Spider-man. Just… Swinging by?” He winced internally. Probably not the best thing to lead with in the apartment of some gang boss’ wife. However, the place stayed still, air stagnant. He continued down the hallway.
“Anyone home? I’m not here to cause any trouble. I’m actually kinda hoping to hel-”
He cut off as he pushed the door to the bathroom open, seeing a beautiful woman passed out on the white tile. Her eyes were open, only the whites showing, puke dribbling out the side of her mouth.
He slid forward on his knees, pulling her up towards him. “Oh, no no no. Please be alive. Please be alive.”
He pressed fingers to her throat, feeling nothing but a bone-deep chill from the flesh there. He groaned, “Oh God, no. Not again.”
He scooped the vomit from her mouth, laying her back and pressing her palms where he was taught in that first aid class over a decade ago.
He pressed down, remembering the stupid advice. “Ah, ah, ah, ah. Staying alive. Staying alive. Oh, fuck, please stay alive.”
He could feel himself shaking, having to consciously lock his muscles to press the right side of firm without breaking the fragile body beneath his hands. He pushed his mask up, sealing his mouth over hers and pushing air into her lungs.
He choked as he pulled back, taste acidic on his mouth, voice shuddering as he kept singing. Kept pushing. Forcing a heartbeat into her. He wasn’t too late. He could still fix this. He could.
He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“I think that’s enough.” He looked up through watery eyes at Hernandez, the warmth of her hand, steadiness of her grip highlighting how he was shaking apart.
He paused before turning back, “No, I can do this. I have more stamina, I can fix this-”
“Spider-man. I don’t know how long you’ve been here, but I’ve been watching you for five minutes.” Her voice was soft, kind like it usually was when he was Peter. “She’s gone. We need to assess the crime scene.”
Peter choked back a sob, finally falling back. Feeling the telltale weakness in his arms, the stiffness in his limbs. It must have been a long time to get to him like this. His bit his cheek, screwing his eyes shut against the sight.
He swallowed hard, nodding and moving away. Hernandez’s eyes were kind when she stopped him moving too far, “We’ll need a statement, before you disappear. That okay?”
He nodded jerkily, offering a thumbs up. “No problem, officer.”
She hummed, eyes flicking to consider him. “Go take a seat, I’ll be out in a moment.”
“Yeah, sure.” He sighed, collapsing on the sofa. It never got any easier, the guilt when you couldn’t save someone. He felt even worse that he’d felt nothing but disgust over the act of killing when Deadpool had murdered those criminals. They had families too. And he only had a criminal’s word that this woman was innocent in any way.
He took a shaky breath, rubbing his hands over his legs. When Hernandez reappeared, he was feeling a lot more together. She chose to stand in front of him, notepad out.
“So, seems a pretty open-shut case again. But I just need to make sure you don’t know anything or see anything to suggest otherwise. So if you could tell us why you were here, what you saw, anything you think is important. In your own time.”
He took another deep breath, grounding himself in the feeling of his diaphragm expanding. “Well, I came from the scene in the carpark down by the botanical gardens in Queens.”
Hernandez smiled a little, “Yeah, thanks for wrapping them up so neat. But what happened with the-?”
“Deadpool had been there before me.”
She nodded, “Right.”
“Yeah”, He continued, mouth a grim line. “And Deadpool mentioned they were part of a larger, sex trafficking ring. So I ask the ones I tied up, they ask me to come here to save the boss’ girl. Said she wasn’t involved, were worried-”
He felt the realisation hit him square in the chest, near winding him.
“Worried?” Hernandez prompted, eyebrows raised.
“Worried Deadpool would come here, hurt her for information. Or for being in the operation. I’m not sure, but do you think?” He left it open ended, braced for the confirmation that Deadpool was as irredeemable as the Avengers told him.
“Well, from what we can see there was no struggle. The wounds on her arms were self-inflicted-”
Peter squinted, he hadn’t paid much attention but now he thought on it, her arms had been covered in blood. Her white dress stained red.
“-but cause of death looks to be drug related. If what you say is true, she had access to some dangerous stuff. But looks like she chose to overdose, if her arms are anything to go by.” She shrugged, “Maybe it was a bad trip. Labs should be able to find out more, either way. Nothing seems to be pointing to your friend.”
“Not my friend,” Peter bit out. “Barely a work colleague. More a pain in my ass.”
Hernandez nodded, “That actually raises my opinion of you a bit. Thought from that Spideypool tag on Twitter you were buddies. Good to hear you’re not that stupid.”
Peter squinted, ‘Spideypool’?
“Anyway, we need to wrap up here but you’re free to go.”
Hernandez tucked her notepad away before giving him a pointed stare. “Actually, let me be clearer. Go the hell home.”
Peter got up to his feet, feeling a little wobbly as the stiffness bled from his legs. “Right. Sure. I’ll get out of your hair.”
Hernandez rested a hand on his arm, eyes cutting into him in a way only Aunt May’s did. “I mean it. Go the hell home.”
Peter nodded, “Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Hernandez.”
She patted him, turning back to the bathroom where her colleague stood waiting. Peter pulled his mask down and swung back home, thoughts muddled and straining against his skull.
**
Peter was glaring into the spray of his shower trying to reorder his thoughts like a tangle of wire.
Another death by suicide within the space of 24 hours, another seeming off in its reasoning. This one was too convenient. The other made no sense motivation-wise. Both had Deadpool, a mercenary well known for his aptitude in murder, nearby.
He always said he didn’t kill innocents, but really if the price was right would it stop him? He’d tried to kill Spider-man and Peter Parker on two separate occasions in the past. Granted, it was years ago, but what was stopping him falling back into old habits?
But equally, what cause would someone have to pay that much for a mercenary to kill an old lady? He needed more solid proof before he did anything, but equally he didn’t want to leave the merc unattended to go about killing even more people.
He needed help. He would have asked Brock, he owed him numerous favours by proxy for Venom, but he’d left the city months ago. He wasn’t really the type to lie low.
Peter shut off the water as it started to chill, stepping out the tub. He could ask Natasha, but he had a feeling she would just capture and contain Deadpool regardless, based on his past record.
Who else was good at investigations? He couldn’t afford most of them, and he didn’t really ask for favours in suit. He glared at himself in the foggy mirror, brushing his teeth. Trying to scrub away as much of his day as possible.
He could do the investigation, but asking someone to babysit the merc with a mouth was a far larger favour than he was comfortable asking for. He was a lot of work, annoying at the best of times, and you couldn’t afford to relax around the guy thanks to his violent mood swings. No, he was the best candidate for that job, thanks to his Spidey-sense at least lending him a little warning.
He thought back to his old job at the Daily Bugle. There were a couple people that owed Peter Parker a favour. He was always dropping stuff last minute to help out taking photos, providing cover for Jameson. He wasn’t too sure how many of them were left, staff turnover was pretty high and he hadn’t bothered to stay in touch.
He spat in the sink, rinsing away the minty foam and wandering over to his laptop with a ratty towel hanging round his waist. He should be able to find some of them through his mutual friends on Facebook.
After resetting his password to get in the damn thing, resolutely ignoring the memories pop up that would undoubtedly cause him pain, he got to work tracking down help.
After a few hours, the guy he ended up contacting was Jeremy Palmer. All his work had been gritty reveals of secret societies, edgy pieces on politicians emails, the kind of crap that had gotten Brock a huge fan base and fired. But he wrote stuff smartly, seemed to have a knack for targeting those who were brought to justice just before he posted his work.
Or he made it happen.
Either way, he was also the fastest to accept Peter’s friend request and had the most innocuous timeline. Didn’t share his own work, or any news really. Posted animal videos and rare shots of food fed over from Insta.
Peter couldn’t really remember much about him, so he was unsure what reception he’d get calling in a favour. He took a deep breath and bit the bullet.
- Hey dude-
No. Wait.
- Hi Jeremy. See you’re still working at the Bugle?
Right. Cool. That’s… Natural? He jolted as a message pinged in.
> Yeah, I know haha. You been doing good? Still photographing supers?
Oh. He remembered him. That was… unexpected.
- I’m good, thanks. Working as a scientist now, not much chance to photograph. I miss it sometimes… But maybe not the environment.
> Lol yeah Jameson’s still an asshole.
Peter snorted, he had been trying to be subtle. But he’d said it.
- Good to hear some things never change :P
Peter hesitated before typing fast.
- Listen, sorry this isn’t completely innocent. I was actually hoping to ask for a favour.
He chewed on his thumbnail as he watched the three dots appear on screen.
> Ah, I do owe you one. What you need?
Peter sighed in relief, still a little on edge about the size of the favour. But it could end up being a good story for Jeremy.
- I need your investigation skills. There’s been a couple of suicides recently, but I have a feeling they’re hits being put out by someone. Unsure how to proceed?
> Any ideas who?
Peter paused, biting his lip, before continuing to type slower than before.
- Not really, just a gut feeling.
> Well, that’s some juicy stuff, Parker. But what are you getting out of this?
Peter frowned, hesitated a little on the truth. Call it paranoia from being Spider-man, but he still hated sharing too much about himself.
- Uhh, peace of mind?
> Ha, you are one of a kind. Need more people like you.
Peter flushed a little. He was just being decent, that wasn’t so unusual. Most people were caring.
His eyes flicked back to the screen at another ping.
> Send me the details to my email. [email protected]
Peter felt his shoulders relax. One less thing on his plate. He typed out a quick thanks before pausing. Now he had to figure out how to keep tabs on Deadpool.
The computer pinged with another reply.
> :)