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daretodoIt's been a strange couple of hours. Which, when you're me -- Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man -- is really saying something, because it takes a whole lot of whacky before strange so much as registers on my radar. So let's take a second to recap: me, Mary Jane, Tony, and Jessica were all unceremoniously voted off the Island by parties unknown, and sent back home.
Well. I was sent back home -- the rest of them just sort of hitched an as of yet unexplained ride to another dimension. This is complicated by the fact that they all already exist in some other form in my neck of the woods, which means guys like Nick Fury and his web of shady, morally ambiguous spies -- of which Spider-Woman is apparently a member, because that's ten kinds of reassuring -- have to get involved to make sure Maria Hill and the good folks at S.H.I.E.L.D. don't go making a bigger mess of what's already incredibly complicated.
Fury's people have already come and gone, setting up Tony and MJ with image inducers -- I had to haggle for one for Mary Jane, pointing out she bore more than a passing resemblance to a woman who's on billboards across the city, namely my first wife, who I'm apparently no longer with, which is just another mystery I've yet to solve -- and false identities for their stay. Jessica, at least, doesn't look a thing like her namesake -- not to mention the fact that Jessica Drew is hardly the most uncommon of names -- so she was spared from the circus. Probably for the best. The less people who know Jessica's an alternate universe Peter Parker's teenage girl clone, the better.
It can't be any earlier than 4 AM by the time the four of us find ourselves hanging around the kitchen -- this is more literal in my case, since I found my usual stretch of wall to stick myself to -- the rest of the Avengers having dispersed, but I don't know that I could feel more awake. Having my powers back after two years, more or less, is the best caffeine rush a guy could hope for. I'm itching to throw myself off the nearest building -- which would happen to be this one, conveniently enough -- to get in some good old-fashioned web-slinging to clear up my head, but we still have a few loose ends to tie up.
"Can I get you anything?" asks Jarvis when he spots us as he's cutting through the kitchen. He's been bustling around preparing new bedrooms for the unexpected guests for the past little while, now. He doesn't look all to happy about my choice of sitting arrangement, but in my defense, I'm wearing clean socks, so he shouldn't have to wipe down the wall once I'm done. "Tea, perhaps?"
"Nah, I'm fine, Jarvis, thanks," I say, waving him off. Idly, I wonder if he ever sleeps. "You guys?"
Well. I was sent back home -- the rest of them just sort of hitched an as of yet unexplained ride to another dimension. This is complicated by the fact that they all already exist in some other form in my neck of the woods, which means guys like Nick Fury and his web of shady, morally ambiguous spies -- of which Spider-Woman is apparently a member, because that's ten kinds of reassuring -- have to get involved to make sure Maria Hill and the good folks at S.H.I.E.L.D. don't go making a bigger mess of what's already incredibly complicated.
Fury's people have already come and gone, setting up Tony and MJ with image inducers -- I had to haggle for one for Mary Jane, pointing out she bore more than a passing resemblance to a woman who's on billboards across the city, namely my first wife, who I'm apparently no longer with, which is just another mystery I've yet to solve -- and false identities for their stay. Jessica, at least, doesn't look a thing like her namesake -- not to mention the fact that Jessica Drew is hardly the most uncommon of names -- so she was spared from the circus. Probably for the best. The less people who know Jessica's an alternate universe Peter Parker's teenage girl clone, the better.
It can't be any earlier than 4 AM by the time the four of us find ourselves hanging around the kitchen -- this is more literal in my case, since I found my usual stretch of wall to stick myself to -- the rest of the Avengers having dispersed, but I don't know that I could feel more awake. Having my powers back after two years, more or less, is the best caffeine rush a guy could hope for. I'm itching to throw myself off the nearest building -- which would happen to be this one, conveniently enough -- to get in some good old-fashioned web-slinging to clear up my head, but we still have a few loose ends to tie up.
"Can I get you anything?" asks Jarvis when he spots us as he's cutting through the kitchen. He's been bustling around preparing new bedrooms for the unexpected guests for the past little while, now. He doesn't look all to happy about my choice of sitting arrangement, but in my defense, I'm wearing clean socks, so he shouldn't have to wipe down the wall once I'm done. "Tea, perhaps?"
"Nah, I'm fine, Jarvis, thanks," I say, waving him off. Idly, I wonder if he ever sleeps. "You guys?"