Five Issues In Search Of An Arc 3

She told herself that Peter wasn’t quite as crazy as he seemed. He was a smart guy and he did have those powers. He wouldn’t be charging into a hail of gunfire or throwing himself at giant space monsters. He’d be going after muggers and carjackers and purse snatchers. If anything, he was overqualified for that. Really, it was probably just a way for him to blow off steam and do a little good. He’d get it out of his system, realize what a headcase he was being, shove the costume in his closet, forget all about it until he needed a story to tell his grandkids.

Then Mary Jane heard the news report (she wasn’t listening to the news to see if it said anything about Spider-Man, she was just trying to be more civic-minded).

The entire city is wondering why Spider-Man visited the Fantastic Four today! “No comment,” says the FF! Rumors are flying all over New York! Unofficial sources claim Spider-Man is being considered for membership in the FF! “Nonsense!” claims the Police Commissioner!

She couldn’t go out, she knew. She had to wait in her room until Peter got back in. She did her homework and watched TV and even cracked open a book so she could read and glance at the muted news at roughly the same time. (If they showed any kind of RIP Spider-Man graphic, she would turn the TV right off.)

Finally, Peter was there. Landing on the side of his house, easing his window open (the oil-can had worked), and swinging inside as easily as she’d step off a curb.

No sooner had he turned around to close his window then Mary Jane was there, leaning out of hers.

“Do you have brain damage? Are you brain damaged? I don’t want to make fun of you if you have brain damage, because that wouldn’t be very social justice, but if you don’t have brain damage then you are the biggest retard who ever crime fought!” Mary Jane coughed. “Fought crime. Fight… you know what I mean!”

“Can you keep your voice down?” Peter asked, terribly casual as he picked his mask off and shrugged on a loose buttondown to cover up the top of his costume. “My aunt’s sleeping. I don’t want to wake her. Or let her know I’m Spider-Man.”

“Of course she doesn’t know you’re Spider-Man! She thinks you’re a genius! Me, I know you’re out picking fights with the Fantastic Four!”

“It was a job interview.”

“You broke into their headquarters and started swinging!”

“They said they’d keep my application on file.” He sounded so smooth. So peaceful, despite the bruise on his neck that he hid by popping his collar. “What’s it to you? If you’re so worried, I thought you’d like me joining up with a team.”

“Peter, the FF are real superheroes! They fight wizards and aliens and killer robots. You, you, you… you wore a chef’s hat for two hundred bucks while doing a loop-de-loop around the Brooklyn Bridge.”

Peter smiled fondly. “Spider-chef. Good times.” He began pulling on a pair of jeans over his Underoos. “Well, you don’t have to worry. They’re not hiring.”

“Of course they’re not! You’re just a… a…”

Peter reached up to take hold of the window sash. “Goodnight, Mary Jane.”

Mary Jane was still trying to think just what he was when he closed his window. She closed her window too. And though she went to bed, she slept facing the window, able to see if Spider-Man came out the way he came in.