Peter Parker (nycspider) wrote in spidermanrpc,
Peter Parker

  • Mood:

my friend; mine own enemy

Peter buried his head in his hands and sighed deeply. How many days now? Four...six? He'd lost count. Aunt May had phoned some time during the week; offered to bring over a casserole. Harry had taken the call, insisting that they were both "doing fine".



He had exhausted himself in pursuit of her. His muscles ached almost as much as his heart did, and both seemed on the verge of giving out. Yet he persisted; that dogged determination not allowing him to rest but for a moment.

Once, in the night, he thought he heard the cackle of the Goblin...the "whurr" of his glider as it poised for attack.

Only the wind...

"I'm coming, Mary-Jane...don't lose hope..."

...never lose hope.
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