Chapter Text
The Goblin was dead.
It sounded insane. Absurd. After so many years, after all that he had done and all that he had endured, he ended up twisted and bludgeoned in the gutter, the tattered remains of his costume hanging off his body like demented wedding garb. It didn’t feel real, not in the slightest.
“Do we know it’s him?” Spider-Man asked as he stared down at the corpse, the lenses of his mask narrowed in unseeable emotion.
Standing a few paces behind the hero, Officer Cooper could only give a quaint shrug. “Impossible to tell right now.” She confessed. “Sure as hell looks like him, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah…” Kneeling down by the body, Spider-Man examined the final expression of his long-standing foe, twisted into a horrified scream with thick, dried blood cascading down his forehead. “Norman’s used body doubles before, but…” even as he examined it, something felt different. Even in death, the unmistakable stench of pure evil hung over the Goblin; This didn’t feel like an imitator, not by any stretch. “I didn’t even know he was back in the country…”
“Right, right.” Cooper nodded. “SHIELD had tracked him down to Argentina, right?”
“Yeah.” Spider-Man nodded. “The net was tightening. A couple more weeks and we’d have gotten him and now… Here he turns up.” It was hard to surmise the emotions swelling through his system at that moment. Maybe a hint of relief, as ashamed as he was to admit it. The Goblin had been a monster, the embodiment of sheer, contorted evil itself, and his death was likely going to have saved countless others. On the other… This wasn’t justice. Not a court of law, not a concrete cell. A back alley, soaked in his own blood. “If it is him.”
“Sure.” Cooper adjusted her cap, glancing over her shoulder to the alley’s exit. “The techies are gonna be here in a few minutes. Might want to clear off before then.”
“Right.” Snapping himself back to reality, Spider-Man drew himself back to his full height, taking one final glimpse at his old adversary’s cadaver. Then, he turned, faced Officer Cooper. “Thanks for letting me take a look, Carlie.”
A faint grin curled at the edge of Cooper’s lips. “No problem. Figured you might want to see.” Angling her body against the brick wall, she placed her hands on her belt. “I guess you’re gonna be looking into this, then?”
Spider-Man didn’t respond; He didn’t have to. The answer was obvious.
“Alright.” She nodded. For just a moment, something lingered as the two stared at one another, marred as it was by the hero’s mask.
Just for a moment, then it was shattered, by the arrival of another man, a plainclothes officer in a trailing coat. He wasn’t a hugely impressive fellow, well-built but not exceptionally so, with the sort of face that blended into the crowd wherever he ventured. As he strode towards the crime scene, he eyed both Cooper and Spider-Man with a sort of maligned suspicion.
“You two…” He sighed as he brought a hand up to straight out his tie. “How come he always seems to show up when you’re around, Carlie?”
“Sir.” Cooper saluted as she stepped back to allow him passage. “He was just taking a look.”
“Aye, I’m sure.” Staring at the hero, the detective relented after a few moments, his steely demeanour falling away. “I guess it can’t be helped, given the circumstances.” Exchanging his hand, he offered it to shake. “Detective Carter. Pleasure to meet you in the flesh.”
“Likewise.” Spider-Man nodded as he accepted the shake. “I’ll be out of your hair in a second.”
“Thanks.” Carter nodded. “Appreciate it. Between you and me, I don’t mind you being here, but my bosses…” With a small chuckle, he brought his hand up, scratching the base of his neck. “Totally different story.”
“I bet.” Spider-Man agreed. “My stunning charm doesn’t tend to work on everyone. That’s when the dashing looks come in.”
“I bet.” Carter grunted, peering past the hero and glancing to the body. “Osborn, huh? Seems a pretty anticlimactic way for a guy like him to go out…”
“R-right.” Straightening up, Cooper went to show him the corpse in greater detail. “He was found just here, around seven fifty. Homeless guy found him. We’ve already taken him in for a statement.”
As this pressed on, Spider-Man took his cue to leave. After all, he had his own matters to be attending to. Taking a running leap, he launched himself up into the air, pressing his feet into the brick wall and sprinting up the side of the building that enclosed the alley, hauling himself away from the scene before yet more of the NYPD showed up.
Right at that moment, he didn’t need nor want much but his own company. He had a lot of thinking to do.
Rather unfortunately, though, he was going to have to contend with work while doing so.
-+-+-+-
If there was one thing on earth worse than attending classes as a student, it would be attending them as a teacher. Between students sleeping through it all, students chatting through it all and those who just didn’t show up, it was an awful lot to have to deal with. For Peter Parker, one could add all of this to the fact that the slaying of one’s greatest enemy was busy occupying his mind. The amount of times that he lost his place when going through his lecture was embarrassing to admit, and the occasional snickers rising up from the class every time he did so did very little to help matters.
As it turned out, waiting desperately for the bell was not just something that kids had to deal with. The door closing behind the final student couldn’t come soon enough, leaving him to his own devices at last. For the next half hour, at least, until the next class started.
Settling down at his desk, he drew his lunch box out, for he was in no mood at all to eat in the staff room. As it turned out, he was in no mood to eat, period. After ten minutes, the tuna sandwich still sat in the box, only a small segment of the corner nibbled off. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts.
Norman dead.
Norman dead.
No matter how many times the phrase rang in his head, it never sounded quite right. He wasn’t a stranger to death, it had plagued him since he was quite literally a toddler. Yet, even a good twenty-six years on, it never got any easier. And this instance in particular was… Just wrong.
No grand final battle.
No epic monologue as Norman plunged to his death.
No poetic irony, no being impaled on his own glider or blown up with his own bombs.
Nothing. Just an eerie nothingness, beaten to death in a back alley like anybody else. It was clear from the injuries sustained that he had died a victim. And something about that just felt wrong. Even as he mulled over it, however, a new thought was beginning to enter his mind. Something that took the situation from head-spinning to downright horrifying.
Someone had killed the Goblin. It was obviously a murder. Whether it had been in Argentina or back in New York, someone had gotten their hands on one of the most intelligent, resourceful and dangerous men in the world and beaten him to death. Whoever had been able to manage such a thing was clearly a force to be reckoned with.
Peter was to be shaken from these thoughts by a small rapping on the door. Craning his neck over, he called out “Eh- Come in!”
The door peeled open and a small, anxious face popped around it. A bookish young kid, with glasses nearly as big as his entire face. Peter recognised him immediately.
“Joey?” He noted, purging thoughts of the Goblin’s death out of his mind for the time being and leaning back in his chair. “You need something?”
“Uh, yeah…” Nervously, Joey threaded his weedy body through the door. “I was wondering if you could give me some pointers, Mister Parker?”
“Pointers?” Peter would never get used to being referred to in such a formal manner. “Sure, what about? Tests?”
“Yeah.” Joey nodded softly. “The stuff coming up next week. It’s just… I dunno, just seems like it’s not going in?”
“Ah, right.” Peter realised. “I know the feeling. What’s the issue, then? Anything in particular or just…” He made a deft motion with his hands. “... The whole thing?”
“The whole thing.” Joey answered. “I mean, I know the stuff. I know I do. But whenever I try to apply it, it’s like it all…”
“Drains out?” Peter suggested.
“Yeah, exactly. Like I just can’t remember any of it when the textbook’s taken away. It just all… Vanishes.”
Rubbing his chin gently, Peter cast a reassuring grin at the boy. “Trust me, Joey, that’s about as normal as you can get. I sure didn’t have an easy time with tests back then.”
“I know that.” Joey refuted. “Just… That doesn’t…”
“Make it any better.” Peter confessed. “I know. But look, Joey, you’re a bright kid. I know that sounds like I’m saying that for the sake of it, but I do mean it. You’re better at this stuff than I was at fifteen, that’s for sure.”
“I’m just… Not good at it.” The boy sighed. “I’ve only gotten this far ‘cause of the studying, and that’s doing me a fat lot of good right now…”
“I reiterate…” Peter stated. “You’re a bright kid. Very few people out there are natural-born geniuses. There’s probably one, two tops in this whole city. What really takes smarts is knowing when to buckle down and work hard. Don’t you think?”
“Well… Yeah, but it isn’t working this time. It’s just…” Sighing, Joey hung his head. “Like I said, nothing going in.”
“Yeah…” Chewing very deftly on his bottom lip, Peter looked Joey clear in the eyes. “Look, um… How would some extra sessions sound?”
Every muscle in his brain was roaring at him to shut up, to not even consider such a proposal. He had enough on his plate at that moment, especially with the Osborn murder. Would he even have any time to attend these sessions?
“Huh?” Joey perked up a little like that. “For real?”
Back out, back out.
“Sure.” Peter answered, overriding his better judgement. “I know there are a fair few guys struggling in the class, some of them far more than you. As far as I see it, why not host some classes after school? Get some cramming done, I can help with anything you or any of the others need.”
“Well… Thank you! I’d really appreciate that!”
The hell are you doing, Parker? Don’t be an idiot.
“Then, it’s settled.” Peter smiled. “I’ll make a list of some of the other kids I think could benefit from it and after class tomorrow, we’ll settle on a date that suits everyone. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds great!” Joey’s beam was utterly radiant. “This means a lot, Sir!”
Peter Parker, you are one stupid sonuva bitch.
“So, it’s settled. See you tomorrow.”
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As Spider-Man paced back and forth across the roof of the apartment block, his mind was aflame with lists of potential suspects. He knew a million and one people who could want Osborn dead, and yet a significant portion of them seemed nigh-impossible to pin down. Be it through lacking motive, lacking means or being dead, the list was somehow being constantly shortened without actually narrowing anything down. He was too wired, too stirred up by all that had happened to think straight. His head was a mess, and he certainly wasn’t getting anywhere fast.
“Why did I figure I’d find you up here?” Officer Cooper rolled her eyes as she emerged from the staircase and walked over to Spider-Man, clasping her coffee in both hands. Though, given that she was now out of uniform, the whole ‘Officer Cooper’ thing seemed a tad redundant; Now, she was just Carlie.
“Hey.” Coming to a stop, Spider-Man turned to face her. “Done with work for the day?”
“You too, I see.” She responded with a faint smirk.
“God no.” He answered. “I’ve still got a syllabus to put together for next week, then I’ve gotta arrange some extra sessions for some of the kids.”
“The fun nevers stops, does it?” Carlie mused as she reached him and brought one hand to the rim of his mask.
“Mostly because it never starts.” He confirmed. “And then there’s the whole Goblin thing…”
“Yeah…” She nodded. “The higher ups are pissed, you know. Apparently, SHIELD’s absolutely livid and they’re breathing down the Commissioner’s neck to get this sorted out. Which trickles down to Stan, which trickles down to us.” Rolling her eyes, she set the cup down on the rooftop, before gazing up at Spider-Man. “You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you?”
“Of course I have.”
“Any suspects, yet?”
“No.” He sighed. “That’s just the problem. There’s too much to go through. And not enough at the same time.”
“Hm…” Sitting down next to her cup, Carlie crossed her legs and sat on them, waiting for Spider-Man to do the same. “Kraven?”
“Long dead.” He replied as he obliged. “As far as I can tell, he’s stayed that way for now.”
“Hmm… Punisher?”
“Not his style.” Spider-Man shook his head. “I can’t see old Frankie going after someone like the Goblin. Plus, Norman didn’t seem to have any gunshot wounds…”
“Right.” Carlie acknowledged. “Not his style at all. What about Kingsley, then? He got out on parole last year, and he’s got plenty reason to hate Osborn.”
“I was thinking about it, too…” Spider-Man confessed. “But, he’s on constant supervision. I can’t really see him getting the chance to go after Norman without raising any alarms.”
“True that…” Carlie agreed. “Still…” After a moment of thinking, she let out a frustrated little squeak. “God, this is why I’ll never make detective. This thinking shit is hard, you know.”
“Tell me about it…” Gazing off into the setting sun, the hero felt his concerns start to ebb away for just a moment, with the blazing red skies overhead and Carlie by his side. For just a second, he allowed himself to relax, even feeling her leaning against his shoulder.
For just a second.
“You know…” Carlie speculated as she rested her hand on his arm. “You could always give Kingsley a try anyway. It wouldn’t be hard for a guy of your… Talents to drop in, no? Pay the man a visit. I’m sure he misses you, anyway.”
“Yeah.” Spider-Man snorted. “I bet. You do know I blew his house up the last time we met?”
“Oh, please.” Carlie scoffed. “He blew up his own stupid house. It was rubbish anyway, no real loss.”
“Sure, but Roderick never was the most understanding of individuals. I’m not so sure he’ll see it that way.”
“Sure, what’s the harm?” She asked as she started to rub her hand back and forth over his shoulder. It felt nice, warm, released even a fraction of the tension built up within him. “He’s not got any of his gear, right?”
“Unless he is the killer, in which case he probably does.” The hero pointed out. “Still, it couldn’t hurt, I guess.”
“Ab-so-lutely.” Carlie agreed as the pair stared off, lost in the beauty of the setting sun. “What’s the worst that could happen?”