The Butterfly Effect: a Peter Parker Fan Fic

Part 37; Backstabber

Beware the person who stabs you and then tells the world they're the one who's bleeding ~ Jill Blakeway

Peter is Spider-Man.

Spider-Man is Peter.

Peter and Spider-Man are the same person.

No matter how many times I repeat it or word it differently, my thick head can't seem to process this fact. He has been the one to fight alongside me all of this time. He saved my life twice and I, his. We just fought. I gave him a freaking uppercut to the jaw that nearly knocked him out. As soon as I had told him that my father is dead, despite the mask covering his face, the realization or the assumption that had shadowed it was clear.

I had to take the subway all the way back towards the school and ride my bike all the way back home. Cassie would've potentially ridden it for me if she was still there, if I wasn't in possession of the keys and if she wasn't terrified to death of motorcycles. The sheer thought of someone riding a two-wheeled vehicle at high speeds on roads with big trucks and vans as psychotic to her.

The traffic light turns yellow, yet I'm still too far to make it this time. I brake at the line and wait patiently because this particular intersection takes what feels like years to switch back to green. I tap my foot on the concrete road as a large group of pedestrians cross jaywalk illegally. Even if I don't care for most illegal things, I despise jaywalking. Instead of just waiting a few minutes or even a few seconds sometimes, they decide on risking their own lives to cross. Maybe my powers could teach them a lesson.

A smirk grows on my face. There are about seven of them. They're all teenagers, a mix of boys and girls, but younger than I am. They're the wannabe leaders of the school so I guess teaching them a valuable life moral won't do much harm... I think.

Reaching into all of their minds is easy. I like to think that the lower an IQ someone has, the easier it is to deceive them. That's why I can easily plant an image in these kids' brains, but doing the two elderly people was hard: because that couple had a high IQ and these people don't. I plant the image of a car screeching past, almost hitting them but instead speeding past. I clap my hands once as the car disappears into dust out of their sight. The guys in the group scream louder than the girls do. They are all panicked and put their hands on their quickly accelerating hearts. They're all shaken up, but have clearly realized that they shouldn't be doing stupid, illegal things like they did.

My head turns to face the woman in the car next to me to see her reaction. She's just confused as to why there are a bunch of screaming teenagers in the middle of the road. I reach into her mind just for the sake of it, to see if she has any memories I can watch while we're waiting here. But there's another pathway.

A third pathway?

I should take this, just to see where it leads. Nothing necessarily painful happens, but a dream of some sort pops into my head. It's the same woman, just much, much older. It's clear from her sharp green eyes and freckles that it's her. All of a sudden, she clutches her chest and collapses. Is she... dead? What is this? Did she have this dream? Is this how she'll die? What the heck?!

A car honks from behind me, alerting me that the light is now green. The engine revs again and the wheels screech as I begin to drive off towards home.

Can I... predict how people are going to die? This is crazy.

Spider-Man and Peter are the same person.

Nope, still don't believe it. 

Upon arriving at home, the thought of having the gun just sitting in my motorbike terrifies me. The thought of having a gun should scare me, but it doesn't for some reason. Who knows? Maybe I was a mafia boss in a past life. But just the fact that I saw that lady die, that is nuts. What if someone dies because someone decides to steal my bike with the gun inside and shoot someone?