Shooting at the Walls of Heartache (Bang Bang!)

High above the city streets, the Amazing Spider-Man let out something close to a giddy shout. The last several weeks had been very rough even by Peter Parker's standards and it was frnakly just good to be back in New York even if it wasn't his New York. First, his new job had kept him on his toes. He enjoyed the challenge and couldn't thank a certain Dark Knight enough for not only helping him with proper identification on this New Earth, but also for helping him land a job where his love and knowledge of science could actually be put to use. That said he was starting to get some seriously weird vibes from the company's owner. Nothing he could put his finger on specifically, but something was...off. Having dealt with his fair share of mad scientists and evil CEOs he couldn't help but be on edge, especially once he learned that his old nemesis Venom had been skulking around properties related to the company. Had it been Flash Thompson he'd of just been able to ask his friend what was up, but as the old Parker Luck would have it the Venom that had been deposited here was none other than Eddie “I hate Parker and Spidey” Brock.

“Pre-reformed Eddie to boot...assuming there ever was such a thing as a good Eddie,” Peter said to the air.

Then, as if possibly doing scientific research for someone sketchy and having Venom back in his life wasn't bad enough, there was the Colorado Incident. Not only had he been torn away from New York on an impromptu rescue mission but he had seen things inside the facility that shook him to his core. Adler and her experiments were bad enough, but the condition those captive were in. Even his worst enemies, some of which could have been held captive there for all he knew, didn't deserve what they were put through. The stealing and mixing of powers had ended the lives of God only knew how many and seeing someone crawl walls with the same ease he did was worrisome. Did that mean there were other Spider-People here? Was there another Peter Parker? Or even worse... clones?

Please sweet Lord don't let it be clones, he thought.

The operation hadn't necessarily been completely successful either. Logan seemed content with having rescued Wade and while Spidey was grateful his annoying pal was free, so too were countless others with less morals (if that was possible) than Deadpool. There was no telling what the fallout from that would be. Plus there was Deadpool himself. He seemed...normal. Well as normal as Wade Wilson ever was. He was depressed and less than thrilled with having to keep a low profile, but Peter had seen the files Adler kept and there was no way even Deadpool hadn't been changed by the experience. Wade talked. He ALWAYS talked. Talked enough to make Spidey's own banter seem like short monosyllabic chats, but he didn't talk- talk. Not about anything that happened, how he was doing, or otherwise. With the likes of Cap or Wolverine he figured it was that whole tough guy, soldier attitude. With Wade though he honestly couldn't tell if he was just compartmentalizing and dealing in his own way or if he was slipping even further from the edge of sanity than he was on a normal basis.

He couldn't blame him for not talking about it. Peter himself felt less than sane ever since arriving here on New Earth. Something was wrong. He was having flashes of memories, almost dream-like, of things that made no sense, events he knew he'd never done. It was like fighting Morlun and learning about the Great Web and such all over again. If he didn't know any better he'd say that the web itself was strained, stretched taut, and someone was hoping to break it all together. Of course that mystical stuff was never something he understood well or was comfortable with and the memories that seemed to come from other hims took precedent over wondering how the fabric of reality was doing.

“I'm leaving that nonsense to Stark and the others. Right now I just have to figure out how to co-exist with Deadpool and not go as crazy as he is from all these mix and match Spidey memories.”

That was a statement easier said than done. He made exceptions and cut the mercenary a lot of slack for all he had been through. But there were times where he could just strangle him. The apartment was a disaster area the EPA would have to fund to clean up proper if things kept up the way they were. His neighbors complained about the smell, the noise, and they were convinced that Peter was gay considering the shouting about Golden Girls and the frequently raised voices. That was one thing. However the fact that he still had to go to work, still had patrol, and had to play nanny to Wade was starting to become exhausting. Literally.

“You have to admit, you almost fell asleep while working around a particle accelerator today. That is not, in any way, a good thing and you are a guy that jumps on Lizard People while in pajammas while going on three days of no sleep. So that is saying something about how tired you really are. Nightmares about Adler's fall whenever you doze sure don't help either.”

And of course, now you are talking to yourself, Peter thought. But face it, stressing over Deadpool is better than worrying about why you feel like there is a hole in your soul and all the memories and webbing of different Spideys in your noggin' can't fill it.

Landing on the wall he felt the pain of every bump, bruise, and cut he had acquired on his recent adventure and was thankful to see that if nothing else, Wade had at least remembered to leave the window cracked this time. Sliding it open he stepped inside...and right into what looked like three day old cereal complete with spoiled milk and some sort of hazelnut spread.

Karma. This is payback for all the times I was the terrible roomate that left at odd hours, didn't have the rent, and crashed into my room waking everyone up. But this? This is disproportional karma.

Whatever happiness he had from being back in NYC, what little bit of sympathy he felt for Wade, was now as tarnished and stained as his LAST CLEAN SUIT.

“Wade,” he said through gritted teeth. “Why is there a bowl of congealed evil beneath the window and not in, you know, the sink or better yet a toxic waste disposal site?”

  Deadpool