Chapter 20 - Lucky

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I contemplated this for several minutes. Below, Marceline was furiously tracing pictures of me back to their location. She had this really sneaky program that would scan the picture. Then, it would give you the exact time and absolute location of when and where the picture was taken. It could also tell which phone took it, and that phone number. And of course, phone numbers meant identities. Which meant that even more innocent onlookers would be in extreme danger.

That's just perfect.

A list of pictures and the people who took them were currently on the screen. Marcy was muttering angrily and shaking her head. After a few moments of this, she repeatedly hit a button on her keyboard marked "Print". A rumbling sound started coming from a small fuchsia machine on the other side of the immense room.

Marceline waltzed over, quietly murmuring about remodeling. You think? I wanted to say.

"Darned outdated printer," she said, hitting the machine. "Extra copies. What a waste."

Holding a copy of the list on the computer screen, she strutted out.

I smiled. My luck could not have gotten any better.

After I couldn't hear Marceline's receding steps, I decided it was safe. I dropped to the carpet, about twenty feet below. I was getting better at landing, too. I only felt just the tiniest bit wobbly after my "fall".

I slinked over to the printer and grabbed one of the many extra sheets lying there. I carefully folded the paper up and put it in my jean pocket.

Silently, I slid open the door Marceline had walked out of. Behind was yet another seemingly endless hallway.

I sighed.

Great. Just great.

To help get my mind going, I decided to practice with my newfound-ish superpowers. I shot a web across the walls and closed my eyes, shooting out more webs in all directions. I smiled. This was fun.

Wait. I was having fun in the "lair" of my "enemy". Well, at least I was being optimistic. For once.

Woo-hoo.

Some time later, I stopped throwing out the strands and grinned, my eyes shut tight. Here comes the best part.

You see, I had made myself a really neat, really random obstacle course. And now was the time to speed through it.

I backed up, never peeking through my lids, and sprinted towards what very well could be my imminent doom. Or possibly my greatest success. Kind of.

My "spidey senses" were jerking my body into impossible contortions as I raced blindly through my homemade obstacle course. Tingling all over, I ducked suddenly and felt a whoosh above my head as I slipped right under a web string. I immediately jumped a few feet up and did a split midair. I felt another string pass by underneath me. I landed a few seconds later and rolled right under one. I burst forward and leapt between two other webs. I chuckled.

This was fun.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the rush was over. Don't ask me how I knew, because I wouldn't have been able to tell you. I just knew. I opened my eyes and leaned against the wall, panting. I knew I would have this memory for the rest of my life.

Deep, no?

After I caught my breath, I bolted headlong, imagining myself as a mere blur. Soon enough, I saw a door. This one was your average wooden door you'd find on your average microscopic apartment. I sighed in relief. Once I was in range, I flung a web at the door and pulled my wrist inwards. The door flew off with a pop and hurtled straight towards me. At the very last second, I pulled a horizontal one-eighty and slid right under.

Man, I could do this type of thing all day. As I returned to my feet, I assessed my location. My eyes started to water and my throat began to tickle. I inhaled deeply, doubling over, expecting a barrage of lung-wracking coughs to follow.

None came. Startled, I stood back up. Another thing to thank that miraculous spider for; no more hacking coughs.

Yay.

Glancing around, I immediately noticed something wrong with my surroundings. Everywhere within a fifty-foot radius of me was covered in ash. I narrowed my eyes. What had burned down? Who burned it? Why? When? And, more importantly, where the heck was I?

I looked past the ashes and beyond. I was sure my eyes were wrong. It couldn't be... Could it?

I was, possibly, standing in the middle of the remains of one of the lushest houses in NYC. My hyperactive mind went into overload. Whose house was it? Was the owner okay? And what if they had, like, servants? Were the surrounding neighbors hurt? Where did the people who lived in this once-grand house live now? Were they on the streets?

I decided to do a little investigating. Digging around. Literally.

Searching for a clue, I pawed through the rubble for about half an hour before I found it. The metal plate was half an inch thick, and a shiny gold in color. Well, that's what I presumed it had been before the fire. Now, it was all warped and melted, a kind of dirty yellow. I scraped some of the dirt and ash off of what I thought was the front.

The number, barely readable, was 1002003. That rang a bell. But why? Where in the world did I recogni-

Crap.

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<·<Pepper_B_Parker*Alias:_Spyder*Position:_S.H.I.E.L.D._agent>·>

Allllrighty. Twentieth chapter.

I'm taking a coffee break.

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