Chapter Text
Nine Years Ago…
“Are you a fan of Greek Mythology, Justin?”
Justin Straczynski suddenly looked away from his notepad and at Norman Osborn, who stared at the screen in front of them with content. The screen showed the display of a spider, more specifically, the first subject of the Osborn Formula Experiment—Subject 00.
He looked down. “N-No, not really, sir.”
“Ever hear the myth of Arachne?” Norman asked, the screen flashing again, this time displaying another arachnid, Subject 42. Justin shook his head again.
Osborn wouldn’t fire him just because he didn’t know much about Greek Mythology, right? He’d practically been his personal assistant for a little over a year, but even with the lack of experience, Norman still constantly praised him for being able to follow through with his orders with no defiance.
“The story goes that Athena… you know Athena, right?” Justin nodded. “Seems she heard there was this woman on Earth. A mere mortal, like you and me.” Norman looked off to the side. “Well, like you. ”
“What was that, sir?” Justin asked.
“The woman,” Norman continued, completely disregarding Justin’s question, “happened to be a better spinstress than Athena was.” Upon turning to the side and seeing the man’s confused look, he went on to add, “A spinstress—a weaver.”
“Athena wasn’t too happy to hear this. At all.” Norman slipped on a rubber glove and reached his hand underneath the screen. The screen displayed a hand reaching out and taking the first subject to the experiments, Subject 00. The spider crawled around his hand until it stood on top of the back of his hand.
“So, she came down to earth and destroyed the woman’s creations.” Norman reached out a finger and gently rubbed on the spider’s abdomen. “When this mortal girl saw what had happened… that she had insulted the Gods and that her life’s work had all but been destroyed… she hung herself.”
“But then, Athena took pity on this poor girl. Athena came down and touched her on the forehead with the juice of Hecate’s herb, and said: You shall not die today, Arachne. You are a great spinstress and you shall be transformed so you can weave your web forever. ”
Norman raised his hand up, watching the spider slowly creep up his fingers until it perched on his fingertips. “At Athena’s words, Arachne shrank and blackened. First, her hair fell off, along with her nose and ears. Her head shrank into the smallest size, and her fingers turned into legs. What was left of her became her body, out of which she still spins a thread, and was left to spin her web.”
“Mr. Osborn?” Norman’s face contorted into a scowl. He looked away from the spider he held so delicately in his fingertips and to the woman in the white lab coat standing just beside Justin—Laura. Laura held out his flip phone. “Mr. Osborn, your lawyer is on the cell phone. Says it’s important.”
“Important to whom?” Norman huffed, seizing the flip phone from Laura’s hands and holding it up to his ear. “I told you, I don’t want to be bothered in my lab. Tell him there is no room for negotiation. What? No. I said no. NO! Now that you disturbed me, let me disturb you…”
Norman flippantly handed the spider over to Justin, who went pale once he felt all eight of its hairy legs make contact with his palms. “Let me tell you what the Osborn Formula means. It is a wonder drug. It is my most significant invention. Let me tell you what this new discovery is going to mean to this country’s economy! Yes. Yes. ”
A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Justin’s face the longer he stared at the spider, which remained uncharacteristically still in his hands. “The testing is going very well. Extremely well. We are product testing it now. What? On all sorts of… on mammals. Insects.”
In a moment of panic, and to try to catch up to Mr. Osborn as fast as possible, Justin ended up throwing the spider off of his hands and into a green container.
“The spider especially has had some fascinating… well, believe me, if I could get away with human subjects at this stage, I would. I’d start with you. But yes, human testing is the next logical phase and we are looking into—”
Justin looked at the spider in the green container, which still hadn’t moved a muscle ever since it fell inside. He glanced back and forth between Norman, who was already headed out the door, and the spider. It still hadn’t moved.
“Well, you tell him this is my company, and my discovery, and if he doesn’t like it—that’s right. Oscorp is the name on the door, not… right. Good.”
Justin didn’t bother finding the lid for the container, since the spider still remained stationary, and probably would have still been there by the time he checked on it once he had the free time. So, he turned back and hurried to catch up to Norman.
“As long as we all know who’s in charge here, we’ll all be fine…”
Subject 00 made its move.
━━━━━━ • + * 🐬 * + • ━━━━━━
My name is Ashton Morgana. I am Spider-Man.
I was bit by a genetically engineered spider, and now, I’ve got super crazy spider-powers. I can stick to walls and pick up cars. I can blend in with my surroundings, and I’ve got bioelectricity, or, as my friend dubbed it, “Venom Strikes”. I can swing across the city on a thread.
I’ve saved the world. Or, at least, HELPED save it.
I’ve met a bunch of superheroes. Icons. Captain America… Iron Man… Thor… a good majority of the Avengers… most of the X-Men… the Human Torch… and of course, you could never forget the original Spider-Man.
Oh yeah. I fought the freakin’ Hulk! If you counted running away screaming like a coward as fighting, anyway. Still, I’ve basically seen and kind of did more than most people will ever get to do in their whole lives.
And now I have one question, and I want you to think about this very carefully. I want you to look me in the eye and I want you to tell me:
“Do you want fries with that?”
The little old lady standing at the front of the line looked at Ashton like he had just said the most sacrilegious thing known to mankind. He frowned a little. He hadn’t said anything incriminating about his identity while he was having his inner monologue, was he?
“What?” The lady asked.
“Would you like fries with that?” Ashton repeated, slightly slower than the first. “With your order? The chicken sandwich. Would you like fries with that?”
The lady narrowed her eyes. “What kind of fries?”
Ashton blinked. “French fries.”
“What’s in them?”
“Potatoes.”
“And what else?”
“Uh… salt?”
“Are you giving me lip, little boy?”
“ Lip? ” Ashton grimaced when he looked over the elderly woman’s shoulder and at the long line of crowds behind her. Not good. So not good. “No! You asked me what was in the fries, those are the ingredients that are in it!”
Why would so many people want a meal from a place called Burger Frog? It’s not like the burgers were that good. He snuck a few burgers when no one was looking back home for his twin sister to eat, but they ended up finding the burger underwhelming.
Or maybe because it was a new stall, and part of the very few open stalls at the food court ever since the tidal wave that hit Manhattan six months ago. That disaster, of course, meant that a lot of stores had to be closed down, since it completely damaged the economy overnight.
“I would like to speak to your manager.”
“You asked me,” Ashton said slowly, “and I—”
“Now you listen here!”
“You asked me—!”
“Is there a problem?” Ashton’s shoulders sagged and he looked over his shoulder to find his manager, Mr. Wesley. A man who, by right, shouldn’t be as intimidating to Ashton as he was. The guy was just taller than him—other than that, he was just a normal guy compared to Ashton.
“This punk is giving me lip!” The elderly woman shouted, jabbing a finger at Ashton. He grimaced for a brief moment at how obnoxiously long her dark red nails were.
“Are you giving her lip?” Mr. Wesley asked.
“NO!” Ashton shouted, shaking his head vigorously. “She asked what the french fries were made of, and I said—!”
“I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO IN THIS MANNER!” The lady shouted. “I’LL CALL LIVE-ON-FIVE AND REPORT YOU PEOPLE! I’ll have a camera crew down here. You can tell them how you make fun of old people who just wants some—”
“Ma’am, how about a free apple pie and a coffee?” Mr. Wesley offered, holding up a coffee cup on one hand and a Burger Frog brand apple pie in the other. The old lady nodded, smiling at the man, as he gently placed the items onto her orange tray. “Here you go. Thank you and have a nice day.”
The old lady gratefully thanked Mr. Wesley and threw Ashton a dirty look over her shoulder as she made her way over to her table. Mr. Wesley rested his hand on the cash register and turned to Ashton, whose jaw went slack. “Ashton…”
“I didn’t do anything!” Ashton cried.
“Ashton, you—”
“I didn’t do anything! ”
“You listen to me…” Mr. Wesley poked the boy on the forehead with his pen. “Customer relations is the most important—”
“She—she—”
“You’re warned.”
“I’m warned!? ”
“There’s a hundred kids looking to take your job,” Mr. Wesley said. He looked like he was going to add more to his statement, but he didn’t. That was, until he glanced up at Ashton’s hair and said, “And where’s your hat?”
“It gives me hat hair…” He mumbled, glancing down at the green frog leg poking out at the breast pocket of his Burger Frog uniform.
“Put on the hat,” he said. “It’s for health code reasons.”
“ You don’t have to wear the hat.”
“I’m the manager.”
Ashton opened his mouth to protest, but by the time he managed to find what words to say, Mr. Wesley was already in the kitchen, examining his coworker as she wrapped the burgers in a wrapper. He sighed, defeatedly tugging at the frog leg that was the stupid hat and staring at it.
‘ Yeah, I’m Spider-Man, ’ he thought, staring at the lame frog hat, ‘ I’m Spider-Man, personal intern of Tony Stark, Captain America and original Spider-Man’s mentee, and now I’m wearing this stupid hat for exactly twenty-five cents over minimum wage. ’
He shoved the green frog over his head, tugging at the green legs that hung over his ears to secure the hat on his bushy mess of hair, and held back the urge to gnash his teeth when the frog’s googly eyes started to wobble about every time he moved his head.
God, this was so damaging to his ego.
“Can… I… help you?”
━━━━━━ • + * 🐬 * + • ━━━━━━
“It’s been six months almost to the day since the horrible tragedy that wiped out the Eastern seaboard… but today has been declared Life Day by Congress and the president. Today, New York City is officially open for business!”
“The president walked down Times Square arm-in-arm with the mayor and Captain America and a host of celebrities and international dignitaries. It’s a celebration a lot of people thought would simply never come. And the best news of all… no school! So enjoy your day off, Midtown High School. Enjoy the feeling of hope in the air because we all know it is long overdue.”
“We will have a full report on the weekend’s events on Monday. This is Zara Jones, reporting for midtownhigh.com student newscast.”
━━━━━━ • + * 🐬 * + • ━━━━━━
It’s been the same dream every night.
Ever since the wave, the nightmares just kept getting worse.
Ashton would wake up in complete darkness. And like all his other dreams, he would try to swim up to get away from the darkness that kept trying to pull him down. But every time, he would accidentally bump into Captain America’s shield.
Then, he’d look around, and everywhere he looked, there were always the Avengers, the X-Men, and the Fantastic Four, all chained up with their eyes closed.
And it was only then that he’d wake up in a cold sweat.
After the first few nightmares, his mother, Clara, had decided that it might be better for the boy if he were to just visit Dr. Kafka, the school counselor. He wasn’t big on that idea. After all, what if he were to accidentally let slip that he was Spider-Man with all these dreams he was having?
So he didn’t go. But the nightmares progressively got worse and worse. He wouldn’t be able to keep up with lying to his mother if his nightmares got worse instead of getting better. He didn’t want his mother to come running down to the school and bring down hell on the poor school counselor who he hadn’t even visited once.
The school was closed for the day, but maybe he was still available. After all, when he had went up on stage a week or two after the school opened, he said he’d be in his office any time.
By the time he had reached the hallway to Dr. Kafka’s office, he had already found the man chatting with another student. He was a tall, bespectacled man with short brown unkempt hair and a few small stubbles on his chin.
The student he was chatting with didn’t look like anyone he recognized—but she looked younger than anyone in his year. She must be a junior. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail with a red ribbon with bangs over her forehead.
He hesitated walking any closer. Turning around, he decided it might be better to hide behind the row of lockers until she disappeared, but he was already caught by his (probably) junior.
“Ah, hello,” she said. “Are you here for a session as well?”
‘ Too late, ’ he thought sadly as he turned back around clumsily and headed over to the two. “Yeah, that’s right. I don’t mean to, like, pry or anything, so I’ll just be over there until you’re—”
“I’m already done,” she said, nodding her head. “Doctor Kafka’s a wonderful counselor. I’ve actually been seeing him for a while, before he ever came to Midtown.”
“Don’t go overselling me too hard, Ms. Gallagher,” Doctor Kafka mumbled. “I’m really nothing special.”
“Well, I need to get going,” the student said, turning to Ashton. She stretched out her hand. “My name’s Bella Gallagher.”
“Ashton,” he responded, shaking her hand. Bella did a little bow, then headed on her way.
“What say we get started, then?” Doctor Kafka asked. Ashton nodded. He followed the man into his office. “Thank you for coming.”
“Sorry if, um, I don’t know what to discuss,” Ashton mumbled. “Not to be rude… but I only came here today because my parents wanted me to.”
“That’s fine.” The man didn’t look at all offended by Ashton’s words—instead, he beckoned the boy toward one of the chairs. Ashton slumped his bag down beside the armchair and took a seat.
Wow, was it plush. It almost felt like sitting on a cloud. He settled into the armchair, clasping his hands together, and nervously waited for Doctor Kafka to finish doing what needed to be done before taking his seat on the armchair to Ashton’s right.
He gestured to the basket of snacks on the coffee table in front of Ashton. “I’ve got some sweets and some salty snacks there—feel free to have at them.”
“Thank you so much,” Ashton said, but he didn’t make an attempt to take anything from the basket just yet.
“So,” Doctor Kafka said, readjusting himself in the chair. “Let’s begin…”
━━━━━━ • + * 🕷 * + • ━━━━━━
Hysterical people running and Peter Parker swinging towards it.
Always a promising start to a day, he supposed.
There’s no place like New York—the superhero capital of the world. Which, by right, should be stopping people from committing crimes, but it doesn’t stop the select few who decide to still do said crimes. And it looks like today’s crime is… blowing up a bank.
Peter let go of the webbing and landed on top of a car. “Uh, hi there… citizens of New York! How may I be of—WOAH!”
He jumped out of the way of a yellow laser that detonated just below a taxi, sending it flying through the air and over at Peter. He webbed the car up before it could squash him. “Hey, and they say that it’s impossible to catch a cab in New York City…”
And what have we here…?
Two people stepped out of the smoke. A woman and a girl who looked to be around Ashton’s age. The woman was wearing a white coat and a red-and-orange suit with a red eye mask. The girl, however, had a white cape, instead, and her suit was pink-and-purple. She also had a pink headband.
“Stay close, Lana,” the woman said.
“I know, mo-ther!” The girl groaned.
“ Mother? ” Peter parroted. “Matching, cute little outfits! Ohmigosh, you two are so adorable! I could squeal and kick my feet!”
“
YEAH!
” The girl named Lana shouted. Yellow orbs started to form around her wrists. “We’re the Bombshells and we’re about to fuck your shit up so bad you won’t be able to eat unless you have a tube and a—!”
“Oh, and you swear like a marine,” Peter cooed, clasping his hands together and swaying his body side to side. “ Seriously, you guys’re just the cutest pair of criminals I’ve ever seen—”
BOOM!
The yellow orb in Lana’s hands concentrated in a yellow beam, which she fired at Peter’s feet and detonated, sending him flying back. He slammed into a brick wall and fell onto a pretzel cart, making all of the utensils and food items all fly out. “Argh… what the hell was—?”
“Here’s another one, you fuck!”
Peter bounced off of the pretzel cart and stuck to the wall behind him, far from the blast radius. “Okay, Bombshells, I get it. Point made.”
“Let’s go, Lana!” The mother demanded.
“We can take this fucker!”
“Let’s go now! ”
“Usually, I would say that you really should listen to your mother,” Peter said, bouncing off of the wall and avoiding most of the Bombshells’ blasts. “Except she seems to be the one to get you into this life of ill-gotten booty in the first place, which doesn’t exactly make her mother of the year material.”
“Stupid bitch!”
“Oh, yeah, and you swear a lot, too.” Peter lunged at Lana, who had also ran at him, throwing her fist at him. He ducked to avoid it and shoved her arm to the side before she could release another energy blast, making her explode a nearby car. “Like, seriously. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“This isn’t why we came here!” The mother shouted, shoving her daughter away and firing another energy blast at Peter. “GO! Get airborne now!”
“Okay… you ladies aren’t even letting me get a chance to show off my super cool spider powers! Then what’s the point of me even being Spider- Man!? Am I supposed to just be Man now?”
Peter paused. He could feel his spider-sense go off like an alarm in his head. Turning around, he found a car that was leaking gas, right next to a short-circuiting wire. He blanched. “EVERYBODY GET—!”
BOOM!
Frankly, Peter’s had enough explosions for one day.
That last explosion, while it didn’t really do some serious damage, it did burn off the back of his Spider-Man suit, which left most of his back exposed. He hoped and prayed that it didn’t show off a little bit of the boxers he was wearing. He didn’t need another article about his underwear, thank you very much.
Leaping after the now airborne Bombshells, Peter landed on a building not that far from them and aimed. He fired a pellet of webbing at Lana’s face, which distracted long enough for her to come crashing down.
“LANA!” The mother cried, dropping down beside her daughter. “Are you okay?”
“Get it off!” Lana shouted. “GET IT OFF!”
The mother glared at Peter. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Channeling her energy to her fists, she fired beams of energy over where Peter was, shredding the threads of webbing he had tried to fire. She slowed to a stop, hoping that she had managed to hit him hard enough to knock him off the rooftop.
From the looks of things, she did—he was nowhere to be found.
“Where did he go?” Lana asked once she was able to rip the webbing off of her face.
“Maybe we scared him off—””
SMACK!
“Really? You really thought that? Ouch.” Coming in from out of nowhere, Peter lunged at the mother and delivered a kick to her face, snapping the leather strap on her and making the bag full of jewelry fall to the ground with a loud clang. “Well, I guess you guys are new to this whole thing.”
“You son of a—!” Before Lana could fire an energy blast at Peter, he grabbed a hold of her.
“LANGUAGE! Please!”
“I’m going to melt your fucking face off!”
“Well, that’s awfully nice, but I have a girlfriend! It’s not that you’re not cute, or—”
BOOM!
“GREAT—!”
Lana had detonated her powers to the ground, launching them toward the nearest brick wall. They rebounded, hitting the wall, then rebounded again, hitting the same wall, until they crashed head-first into a dumpster.
“CAPTAIN!” Peter heard a voice call.
Great… the cops.
Peter managed to get his head free from the dumpster and stared at the cops headed their way. Lana followed after, a discarded dirty towel on her head and a banana peel on her shoulder. “Ow.”
“Shut up.”
“HANDS OVER YOUR HEADS!” The cops shouted, aiming their firearms at the two of them.
“Guys, get out of here!” Peter grabbed a hold of her wrists and kept them close to her. “She’s got kablooie powers—!”
“Well, now I don’t!” Lana shouted. “Thanks to you.”
“ Now you don’t?” Peter stopped, then made a humming noise. There was no spider-sense, he supposed.
“Only if my mom and me are right next to each other!” Lana huffed. “Now, get off me!”
“You started it.”
“Don’t hit me again!”
“I didn’t hit you.”
“Ugh! I think my nose is bleeding.” Lana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, glanced at her glove for a brief moment, then glared at Peter. “I’m gonna sue you.”
“Yeah? Good luck with that.”
“Fuck you.”
“You and your mom’s powers only work next to each other… that’s… that’s fascinating.”
“Yeah? You’re so fascinated, you go live with her.”
“How’d you get your powers?”
“Why? You writing a book?”
“I just don’t get it, I mean.” He awkwardly passed her over to the cops, who were already cuffing her. “You and your mother got that kind of powers and you’re robbing jewelry stores? That’s the best you can do?”
“You were in the same dumpster I was, asshat.”
Peter jumped out of the dumpster and brushed all the dirt and trash off his person.
“Great job, Spidey! What a pleasure to meet you,” the person who seemed to be the captain said cheerfully.
“Oh. Uh. Thanks.” Peter pointed up to the rooftop where he had fallen off of. “The bag of jewels is up on the roof with the mom.”
“SWAT’s already up there,” the captain said. “Seriously though, great job. Really great to meet you.”
“Thanks,” he said awkwardly. “Well, uh, I gotta go.”
“You sure? The other guys would love to meet you.”
“Some other time,” he said, firing a web at a building and pulling himself up, swinging away.
━━━━━━ • + * 🐬 * + • ━━━━━━
“I see…” Doctor Kafka muttered, stroking the stubbles on his chin. “I think I’ve gotten a good grasp of the situation you’re in, Ashton.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m doing a little better, I suppose.”
Okay, maybe that was a total lie. But on the other hand, the nightmares weren’t as bad as they were the first few nights when he got back. Still, it might be better that he does visit the counselor—especially since he offered his help to the school and all.
“But you weren’t before, I take it?” Doctor Kafka asked, and Ashton nodded. “Hmm… try not to push yourself too hard, okay?”
“I don’t think that’s possible, Doc,” Ashton joked, laughing a little. “I’ve got so many crazy stuff I’ve gotta do after school’s done, y’know? Part-time job, Stark Internship… all that.”
He shook his head. “No… you’re right. I should take a break every once in a while.”
Doctor Kafka paused for a long while. “Now that you’ve told me more about yourself, I think I’ve realized something; it seems like you’ve largely been able to reconcile your internal world with your external one. I should note—that’s really, truly impressive. Even most adults can’t reliably manage that.”
“What do you mean…?” Ashton asked, tilting his head.
“How to put it…” Doctor Kafka stroked his jaw, looking up at the ceiling, racking his brain. “You know how everyone has an internal reality? Some conception of themselves they’re striving for? Like, wanting to be a model student, or wanting to be loved and relied on… that kind of thing. That idealized reality and the one in actuality are often far apart. That gap is responsible for a lot of people’s pain.”
“Not everyone can ace their exams, and not everyone can be the heroes they wish they could be. You’ve already been through so much. That kind of suffering is usually enough to twist people up into dark places. But you… you’re standing up to it, and confronting a tough and painful reality. To me, that’s incredibly admirable.”
“Then again, maybe that’s a little weird for you to hear from a guy you just met, right?”
“A little,” Ashton admitted.
“If you don’t mind… I’ve got a request for you.”
Ashton’s head perked up. The man looked serious. “Okay… what’s it about?”
“I’m actually doing a certain research, along with my duties as a counselor. It’s not quite like counseling… more like… a type of psychological treatment. Basically, it’s a project to learn more about people’s metaphorical hearts. What they think, how they feel. If I get far enough with it, I think it’ll be able to help a lot of people. So…?”
There was a certain fire to Doctor Kafka’s eyes, but Ashton didn’t quite catch how the deal had anything to do with him. “So… uh… I’ll need more details.”
“Oh, sorry!” Doctor Kafka said. “Uh, I guess my point is… I’d like to ask you to help with that research! All you’d have to do is listen to my theories, and then tell me if they spark any ideas or realizations on your end. Please! Any time’s good for me—I can work around your schedule.”
“And, uh… I’ve got a lot of snacks, too! You can have them! They’re yours!”
The doctor seemed desperate to convince Ashton to accept the deal—which in all honesty didn’t seem at all bad. All he had to do was just give him feedback, anyway. He could totally do that. Plus, the snacks would totally help for when his enhanced metabolism decides to be a pain.
“Okay,” he said.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Doctor Kafka said, heaving a sigh of relief. He smiled at the boy. “Let’s see… I know! Maybe I could teach you some tips for mental training? I happen to know a lot on the subject. I’m sure I can cook up a special regimen for you. If you’re dedicated enough, I’m sure you could draw out your full potential!”
“Alright.”
“Okay! I guess that’s our deal.” Doctor Kafka pulled out his phone. “Would it be okay if we traded contact information? I’ll contact you when I’ve got time, or when I need some input from you.”
Ashton pulled out his own phone and told the man his number, and in return, he did the same. After saving the number to his contacts, he put the phone away.
“Now!” Doctor Kafka clapped his hands together. “I’d better do my part to repay you. Let’s see…”
━━━━━━ • + * 🐬 * + • ━━━━━━
Ashton ended up going home late that day.
But he couldn’t complain. The session made him feel a little bit better. Plus, he got a free snack which he had finished on the way home. But the session did end up stretching past the time the school would usually be closed.
He ended up scaling the wall to his bedroom window, since he didn’t like the stairs. He climbed onto the fire escape and knocked on the window before sliding it open and heading inside.
He felt a chill run down his spine. Looking down, he smiled at the sight of the black ooze coming out of his shoe and making for the space underneath his bed. Ashton stretched his limbs, tossing his bag onto his bed.
“Why do you smell like cheeseburgers?” Roseanne asked, eyeing the boy up and down.
“You should see the other guy,” he responded, seizing a white sweatshirt from their closet. “Which… okay, I don’t even know where I’m going with this.”
“Roseanne, is Ashton home?” Clara called from afar.
“Just got home,” he called. He beckoned his sister out the door before he changed into the sweatshirt. Making his way out the door and over to the kitchen, he kissed his mother on the cheek.
“There’s dinner in the oven,” she said.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Shepherd’s pie.”
“Pizza?”
“Shepherd’s pie.”
“Pizza?”
“Shepherd’s pie!”
“Pizza?”
Clara sighed.
“Pizza.” Ashton pumped his fist in the air. “Pizza that looks and tastes an awful lot like shepherd’s pie.”
“Sunny called.”
“What did he say?”
“I’m not an answering service.”
Ashton gasped dramatically. “You’re not!?”
“He’s called about the fact he’s finally scored a limited edition LEGO set,” Roseanne said, taking a seat by the counter. “He wouldn’t stop blowing up my phone about it.”
“He did!?” Ashton asked, eyes wide open. “After six long years of him missing out on it?”
“Yep,” she responded, seizing a plate and fork for the both of them. “He’s got the Triskelion set. It’s got all the Avengers and stuff. I think you’re on it, too.”
“I’m on a LEGO set?” Ashton turned to his sister with his jaw agape. Shaking his head, he turned back to the oven and pulled out the pie. “Shut up. No. There’s no freaking way.”
“You are. But they’re still labeling you “The Younger Spider-Man” on it.”
“Dammit.”
“Still, you’ve managed to score yourself your own LEGO figure! That’s, like, the dream. To have your own LEGO figure.”
After cutting a slice for the both of them, they began to dig in.
That was, until they heard a faint chime.
“Is that the doorbell?” Ashton heard Clara call from her bedroom.
“I got it,” he said, dropping his fork and heading over to the door. He swung open the door. “Hey, what can I do you for…?”
Now, that’s a face he didn’t think he had seen since the memorial of all the heroes they’d lost—Johnny Storm. He was carrying a large backpack that could totally fit Ashton in if he were to curl up into a ball and his hair was so messy that it was almost unrecognizable from the hair he’d see on the newspaper.
“Hey, Ashton,” Johnny said, holding onto the surface of the door like it was the only thing keeping him standing.
“Johnny Storm,” he responded. “Where’ve you been?”
“Where do I know that name from?” He heard Roseanne call from the kitchen.
“The Fantastic Four,” he answered. “The Human Torch.”
“Oh, yeah.” Roseanne peered around the corner and gave a small wave. “Hey, man…”
“You okay? ” Ashton asked, eyeing the bags under his eyes. “It’s been months, man. Where’ve you been—?”
“I just…” Johnny massaged his forehead. “I need somewhere to crash. Can… can I stay here tonight? I hate to ask. Pete’s busy tonight. I just need a bed, or…”
“Hey… hey—!”
“Sorry… I’m just…”
Suddenly, Johnny’s knees gave way. His bag slung off of his shoulders and fell to the ground. Ashton managed to catch him before he could hit the ground.
Tick tock goes the clock…