anti-hero ━━ peter parker

03. rick jones

chapter three
midtown, nyc

Rick Jones released a podcast episode every two weeks, and Brenna never missed one.

Tony's new JARVIS replacement prototype (FRIDAY) had blocked the podcast on the Tower's network, so she had to leave in order to listen to it.

The Tower was situated in the busy heart of Midtown. So, despite the cover of night, Brenna wore her gator and a hooded sweatshirt. She strolled along one of the adjacent rooftops, enjoying the risk of the edge. It was one foot in front of the other, until a soft plop came from behind her.

"What're you doing?"

Brenna turned to where Spider-Man was standing, head cocked to the side. He sat on the edge, swinging his legs.

"None of your business, Spider-Freak."

Before she could protest, he used a web to snatched her phone from her hand, peering interestedly at the screen. "This isn't the police scanner app."

"Give it back!" Brenna growled.

"What's Rick Jones?" He started tapping the screen through a gloved finger. "Oh. I like podcasts. What's it about?"

Brenna sighed in defeat, sitting next to him. "Of course you do. You seem like a massive geek."

"Oh, yeah? What's that make you then?" He held out her phone and pointed at the screen for emphasis.

"That's different. He talks about real stuff—important stuff. Stuff the government's doing. Hiding." Brenna sounded very sure of herself. "How they treat mutants and stuff. People with abilities."

Spider-Man surrendered her phone. "I've never seen a mutant before," he said suspiciously.

"Exactly." Brenna reached into her sweatshirt pocket, pulling out a pair of wired headphones. "If you don't mind, I wanna listen to it in peace."

Spider-Man was quiet for a moment. Honking and police sirens cut through the night air.

"I wanna listen to it," he piped up.

Brenna ripped her headphones out, her irate, piercing eyes visible between the hood and the gator. "What?"

     Spider-Man slid closer to her. "I said, I wanna listen to it. Can I?"

     She fidgeted with the spare headphone, rolling it between her fingers. Technically, anyone in the world could listen to it, but it was her thing. What everyone viewed as a conspiracy was giving her hope. She was born different, and until Rick Jones, it felt like a punishment for a crime she didn't commit.

     "Fine," Brenna grumbled, handing the headphone to him. "Just don't talk."

     Spider-Man carefully slipped it under his mask and fitted it in his ear. He reached over and pressed play.

    "Welcome back to A-Bomb. This is your host, Rick Jones. Last week, we talked about Erik Lehnsherr. Let's be clear here—his story will not be erased, and we who know the truth will not be silenced. That being said, today I wanna talk about something I've been working at for a long time now. Not only is it a human rights violation, but—"

     Spider-Man paused the podcast. "Wait, sorry. Who's Erik Len-Something?"

     "I thought I said don't talk?" Brenna muttered. "Ugh—he's a mutant. The government says mutants don't exist, but Legnsherr does. There's tons of evidence. Rick Jones complied it."

     "...Oh." He pressed play.

     "—it's personal. I believe I'm one of many people who were experimented on by the United States government without consent. I covered the SHIELD prisons in a previous episode, but I'm convinced of the existence of a separate, top secret research facility. It's only referenced by name in redacted documents, documents I've worked tirelessly to obtain access to. The facility is known as The Cube. I've narrowed down several possible locations, but this goes beyond anything I've covered in the past.

Over the past couple years, I've had a steady increase in nightmares, glimpses into what I believe are repressed memories of this Cube. I have never confessed this, but I possess abilities—not innate, but but ones I seemed to miraculously obtain. I know there are others like me out there. If you' ve experienced this kind of mutation, consciously or unconsciously, I urge you to contact me and share your story.

My research took me down a rabbit hole: the government's history of attempts to weaponize gamma radiation. As we all remember, Dr. Bruce Banner, the premiere gamma radiation expert of our time, disappeared after an incident in Sokovia last year. Whether or not his disappearance is related to–"

Brenna yanked her phone away, the headphones along with it.

"What're you—don't you wanna hear the rest of it?" Spider-Man was puzzled, adjusting his mask so it wasn't bunched around his neck. "That stuff he was saying—Bruce Banner is an Avenger. You think someone would hurt him?"

It was as if a switch had flipped. Brenna's eyes told her story again, projecting a palpable coldness. "I don't wanna finish it, okay? You got a problem with that?"

Spider-Man raised his hands in self defense. "No, I just—wow. Is that guy for real? Like, any of that stuff?"

"I dunno. Honestly. I know how some of it sounds, but you can't say he's not right about mutants—mutates, actually. Y'know, people who have powers they weren't born with." She demonstrated by ripping a chunk of concrete off the roof's edge, tossing it up and catching it like a baseball. "Well, I was—technically. Still. What about you? Y'know, your webs. Could you always do that?"

Spider-Man crossed his arms. "Oh, so, we're friends now? You want my whole life story?"

"Look, whatever, okay? I was just wondering. Was your mom a humanoid spider-freak or something?"

He averted his gaze, goggled eyes in his lap. "...I thought I was the Spider-Freak. And, no. My parents are kind of dead, actually. I live with my aunt."

Brenna peered at him suspiciously. "Wait, so...you're a kid? How old are you?"

"Uh, I'm not telling you that." Spider-Man sprung to his feet, any previous reservation vanishing. "Stranger danger. Plus, you're totally not any older than I am. I can be out here if you are."

"I'm sixteen. And, for the record, dumbass, there's nothing wrong with being a stranger." Brenna wrapped her headphones up and shoved them in her pocket, along with her phone. "When you do this kind of thing, the less people know about you, the better. Out here, at night like this, you're on your own."

Spider-Man put his hands on his hips. "You're not alone. I'm here." A beat. "And, I'm always ready to throw down if you decide to go pro-wrestler on some bodega thief. Night-night, don't let the conspiracy theories bite!"

Before Brenna could blink, Spider-Man leapt from the edge, swinging off and out of sight.

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