Spider-Man of Earth 65

Felix stood in the bathroom doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his athletic form unashamedly on display Mary Jane stood by the sink, wearing nothing but an oversized button-down shirt she'd swiped from the motel wardrobe, brushing her teeth with the kind of focus that suggested she had other things on her mind.

The night had been... memorable. Even for him. But as he watched her in the mirror, her pale reflection seemed more tired than he'd expected from the Mary Jane Watson.

"You doing okay?" Felix asked.

Mary Jane's eyes flicked to his reflection in the mirror. She gave him a faint smile but didn't stop brushing. After a moment, she spit into the sink and rinsed her mouth. "Yeah. I mean, I guess."

"Convincing," Felix replied dryly, folding his arms across his chest. "You were on fire earlier, but near the end, you kind of… lost your spark. Something's up."

She turned to face him, leaning her hip against the sink. Her iconic red hair was tousled from sleep—or lack thereof—and her green eyes had a faraway look. "You don't miss much, do you?"

"I do my best."

Mary Jane sighed, pushing a hand through her hair. "It's not something I like to talk about."

"Medication?" Felix guessed.

"Something like that." Her answer was cryptic, and she didn't elaborate.

Felix decided not to press her either. Mary Jane Watson wasn't the kind of woman you cornered into talking. If she wanted to share, she'd do it on her own terms.

Instead, she reached for a small notepad on the counter. Without looking at him, she scribbled something down and held it out. Felix walked over and took the note, his fingers brushing against hers.

"What's this?" he asked, glancing at the writing.

"It's the number for Pepper Potts' representative," Mary Jane explained. "Pepper's been busy, so don't expect her to call you back right away. But if anyone can give you a lead on what you're looking for, it's her."

Felix studied the note, then tucked it into the pocket of his pants that were still crumpled on the bathroom floor. "Appreciate it. But this feels like a goodbye."

Mary Jane finally looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "It is."

Felix tilted his head, watching her closely. "That was fast. Did I say something wrong?"

She smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "No, Felix. You said everything right. That's the problem. You're... too good at this."

"Good at what?"

Mary Jane crossed her arms and leaned back against the sink. "Good at making women fall for you. Good at making us feel like we're the only thing in the world that matters. But we both know that's not true, don't we?"

Felix didn't respond right away. He could have argued, but what would have been the point? She wasn't wrong.

She laughed softly, her fingers trailing down his chest before she pulled her hand back. "I'm not your future. And you're not mine. This was fun—no, this was incredible. But it's not more than that. It can't be."

Felix nodded slowly. "Fair enough. But you're not gonna make it easy to forget you, Watson."

Mary Jane's smile turned a little wistful. "Good. I'd be insulted if I was forgettable."

And with that, Mary Jane stepped back and turned toward the mirror. She didn't watch him leave, but she heard the sound of his footsteps retreating, the soft creak of the door opening, and then the faint click as it closed behind him.

Felix Faeth left behind a motel of four satisfied women.

*****

Felix approached the Rustbucket, his arms loaded with an assortment of takeout bags that seemed to weigh as much as a full-grown adult. Shawarma, Chinese food, burgers, fries, and an alarming amount of snacks—chips, candy, and enough soda to power a sugar rush marathon—were all stuffed into his grip. He smiled and kicked open the RV's door and shuffled in, balancing everything precariously.

"Herbie, I'm back," Felix called, setting the bags down on the small dinette table with a relieved exhale. The door closed automatically behind him. "I'm fueled up and ready to hit the road. Let's keep this show on the road. San Francisco won't wait for us."

The tiny flying drones—his two mini-Herbies—buzzed into view, zipping around like helpful little bees. They scanned the food before turning their optical sensors toward Felix.

"Confirmed, Dr. Faeth. Destination locked. Commencing departure now."

The Rustbucket rumbled to life, its aged frame groaning slightly as it pulled out of the motel parking lot. Felix leaned against the kitchen counter, unwrapping a shawarma and taking a hearty bite. The savory flavors hit his tongue and he let out a satisfied hum.

"Now that's the good stuff," he mumbled around the food, grabbing a soda to wash it down. Ever try Fanta? Good shit.

As the RV merged onto the highway, the mini-Herbies hovered nearby. One of them chirped, their artificial voice breaking through Felix's contented chewing.

"Dr. Faeth, I detected a strange radiation signature at the motel."

Felix swallowed a mouthful of shawarma. "Strange how? I didn't sense danger with my Spidey-Sense."

"No danger, a special type of radiation," the drone clarified. "It was among the people there. Specifically, Mary Jane Watson."

Felix froze mid-bite. "Mary Jane?" he repeated, frowning. "What kind of radiation are we talking about here? It's not the same Gamma radiation as the one from the factory, right?" 

"No."

"Then what kind?"

"Unknown. Closest we could identify was Cosmic Radiation," the drone replied. "A more detailed analysis would require a genetic sample. However, based on the readings, it does not appear to be an active threat and was so weak that I only registered it after a hundred searches."

Herbie was always running searches and inquiries to keep him safe. Kicking into overdrive, the antennas of the Rustbucket were twirling and scanning. Felix could hear it. 

"Well, that's… not unsettling at all. Wait, genetic sample?" His frown deepened. "I mean, we did…swap DNA…in one way." He glanced down at the pants he'd hastily pulled on earlier. Sure enough, a single red hair clung to the fabric.

He plucked it off and held it up triumphantly. "Herbie, I present to you: a genetic sample."

The drone whirred as it extended a small mechanical arm to take the hair. "Analyzing now. Please hold."

A petri dish was in the RV itself. Excellent.

Felix tapped his fingers on the counter. What kind of radiation could Mary Jane Watson possibly have? He replayed their brief interaction in the bathroom, her pale complexion, the way she'd mentioned something being "taken from her." 

He thought she was doing drugs. What the hell kind of drugs was she taking…?

"Dr. Faeth," Mini-Herbie interrupted. "Analysis complete. The genetic sample indicates traces of an alien organism."

Felix blinked. "Alien organism?"

"The sample contains faint remnants of Symbiote DNA not dissimilar to what we saw with Crossbones and the Sleep Symbiote."

"Huh? A Symbiote? H-how...?" No wait. Think. "But not a total match…"

"Correct. This is a Symbiote archetype, possessing the same base characteristics, and yet seems to be of a different origin."

"Like cats but different species of cats..."

"Affirmative. Moreover, the Symbiote organism is no longer present in her system. Judging by the levels of residual DNA, the separation likely occurred one to two months ago."

Felix stared at the drone, his mind spinning. "Mary Jane Watson had a Symbiote?" He ran a hand through his hair. He remembered his battle against the Sleeper. Would it be incorrect to still call that thing his strongest foe? One or two Symbiotes he was confident in handling, what would he do against more?

"How the hell did a singer get a Symbiote?"

"Unknown," Herbie replied. "Additional data and DNA would be required to determine the circumstances of her exposure and separation."

Felix paced the length of the RV, his thoughts racing. Dr. Elsa Brock specialized and emailed Dr. Octavius about them. From what he understood, they didn't just attach to anyone. They needed a host that matched their unique criteria, physically and emotionally.

"Okay, okay," he muttered to himself. "Think. Not how, but when could a singer like Mary Jane end up with a Symbiote? She's not exactly running around fighting crime or punching supervillains. Unless…" He stopped, a new thought striking him. "Gwen Stacy."

Herbie's optical sensor tilted curiously. 

Felix nodded slowly, piecing it together. "Mary Jane used to be in a band with Gwen Stacy. You know, Spider-Woman? She was Gwen's best friend for years. And remember, Gwen Stacy lost her powers and is now completely relying on a Symbiote. If Gwen was dealing with a Symbiote at some point, it's not impossible that it transferred to Mary Jane, even accidentally."

As for losing it…

Wait…

"Did Gwen…steal the Symbiote back from Mary Jane? I-is that possible?"

Alistair. What did he say again?

"To be precise, she came to me a year ago, asking if it was possible to regain her old powers or if the Symbiote could be fixed to better suit her needs. At the time, I could provide neither. This…is only a haphazard guess but I believe she went to Norman Osborn after talking to me. What became of this meeting, I do not know."

Did Osborn tell her to steal it…?

"...why now though? Why a month ago and not a year ago? Gwen Stacy should easily be able to track Mary Jane. Hell, I could have done it as a college student. Something between then and now to make her steal it. Is her current Symbiote failing? Is that what it is?"

'Has she…grown desperate toward her powers?'

Felix said those words without saying it.

He stared at the open palm of his hand. His own powers. What would he do to keep them? Could he keep on living?

"Maybe, maybe not. I don't have the luxury to think about it anyway."

Herbie whirred, processing the information. "That theory aligns with the data available. However, without further investigation, it is impossible to confirm."

Felix sighed, running a hand down his face. "Fantastic. Just what I needed—another mystery. Wait, but will she be okay? Do I have to go back and check on her?"

"Her vitals are akin to a drug addict on withdrawal symptoms. She will be fine after a month of regular food and exercise."

That was a relief. He slumped down onto the U-shaped couch at the back of the RV, grabbing a box of fried rice and a fork. "So Mary Jane's been through some alien drama with. Explains a lot, honestly. I wonder…is Gwen nearby? At the very least, I'm guessing she's not in New York. Hm, Herbie, can you track down Mary Jane's locations in the rough estimate of time when she lost the Symbiote?"

Herbie buzzed. "Loading…loading…accessing mobile towers…permission to hack Mary Jane Watson's granted?"

Felix stopped, shoving a forkful of rice into his mouth. He didn't like peeping into others' privacy. For the sake of investigating, he had to. "Granted."

Five seconds later an answer was provided. "Mary Jane Watson was touring in San Francisco."

"Right where we're headed. Well, if we see Gwen Stacy, we see her. I'd like to have a long chat with my…what is she, my sister? My in-law? Cousin? We're...spider-people. Or something."

Felix sat down on his bed and stared at the ceiling as the RV cruised down the highway. The hum of the engine was oddly soothing, and for a moment, he let himself relax.

"Still," he muttered to himself, "I can't believe I had sex with someone who had a Symbiote. That's a new one for the bucket list."

Both Mini-Herbies chirped, "Would you like us to keep a record of that accomplishment?"

Felix snorted. "No, Herbie. Let's keep that one off the books."

As the Rustbucket rumbled on toward San Francisco, Felix couldn't shake the nagging curiosity in the back of his mind. Mary Jane Watson and a Symbiote. What a world.

****

It was dark. It was late. There were hardly any cars on the road. Five hours had passed. All Felix had been doing was watching movies and eating whatever he could.

That was when an echo buzzed through the RV and woke him from his movie watching.

"Dr. Faeth, I intercepted a police call. Robbery in progress at this location. Suspect fled the scene in a red sedan heading south toward us on the highway."

Felix smiled, drank the last of his Canady Dry, and glanced at the duffel bag tucked under the dining table. His heart raced a little as he strode toward it, his fingers brushing over the zipper of the bag.

"No better time to test the Superior Suit," he muttered, yanking it open.

The suit lay neatly folded inside, its sleek black and red design practically begging to be worn. The black fabric shimmered faintly under the RV's lights, with vibrant crimson accents webbed across the chest, arms, and boots. The most striking feature was the spider emblem sprawling across the torso, black across the crimson webbed top. Felix ran his hand over the suit's surface. It was lightweight but reinforced, a marvel of engineering tailored to enhance every movement.

The Big Time Suit was for overall combat-related scenarios. The Superior Suit was not intended for combat at all. The Superior Suit had configurations based on what environment it was in.

Better to show it rather than tell, really. 

He quickly shed his clothes and slid into the Superior Suit. The material clung to his body like a second skin, adjusting to his frame as though alive. As he pulled the mask over his face, he glanced at himself in the mirror. The reflective lenses of the mask stared back, cold and expressionless. Felix wasn't just a man in a costume now—he was something else entirely. Something more.

"Herbie, open up the hatch."

The RV stopped a kilometer away from the gas station in question. Outside in the dark of night, he crouched low at the top of the RV, scanning the empty highway. Then, he took two long steps, jumped and, launched himself into the night. The web-wings extended instantly, catching the cool air and allowing him to glide silently through the darkness. Felix marveled at the ease with which he maneuvered, shifting his body to turn and dive as if he'd been born for this.

Above the highway, his lenses zoomed in, picking out the red sedan approaching and speeding through the sparse traffic. The car wove dangerously between lanes, its driver clearly desperate to avoid detection. Felix adjusted his trajectory, angling himself down toward the fleeing vehicle.

The driver, a wiry man with panic in his eyes, glanced in his rearview mirror and froze. At first, he thought it was a bird—some massive shadow gliding through the night. But then he saw it. The red and black figure, its wings outstretched, descending toward him like a predator.

"No, no, no!" the man shouted, slamming his foot on the gas.

Felix didn't speak. He didn't need to. His silent descent was more than enough to terrify the man. As the sedan swerved violently, Felix aimed a web at the back wheel, yanking it hard. The tire popped, and the car skidded, spinning out before—

Ha. As if he would let it crash. Thwip! A second line of webbing attached to the back of the car and stopped its momentum in its entirety. From two hundred kilometers an hour to absolute zero. The driver almost hit the glass.

Luckily, he was wearing a belt.

Something Spider-Man already saw. 

The driver stumbled out into the grass, huffing and puffing and clutching a duffel bag stuffed with cash. He didn't get far. Felix dropped down from the sky, landing with a thud that sent vibrations through the ground. The criminal froze, his wide eyes taking in the towering figure before him.

"You… you're supposed to be in New York!" the man stammered, stumbling back. "You don't… you don't come out here!"

Felix tilted his head slightly, his reflective lenses gleaming from the moon's light. He took a step forward, slow and deliberate. The man backed away, his heart pounding in his chest.

"I-I didn't hurt anyone!" the criminal pleaded, clutching the bag tighter. "It was just cash, that's all! You don't have to—"

Before he could finish, Felix moved. A single web shot out and yanked the bag from his grip. "G-g-give that back!"

Stupid. 

The criminal swung wildly, a desperate attempt to retrieve what was his. Felix caught the punch and then grabbed the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground with one hand. The man kicked and struggled, but it was no use. Felix's grip was unyielding.

He leaned in close, his mask inches from the man's face. The criminal could see his own terrified reflection in the mirrored lenses, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

"Please…" the man whispered.

Felix dropped him unceremoniously, letting him collapse to the ground in a heap. The criminal scrambled back, his hands shaking as he raised them in surrender. Spidey shot a web at his ankle and hurled him to a nearby tree, pinning him there. The webhead turned his attention to the bag of cash. He webbed it up and attached it to a nearby lamppost, a neat little package for the authorities.

The sound of approaching sirens filled the air, and Felix turned his gaze back to the man. The criminal's eyes widened as Felix stepped closer, his figure silhouetted against the flashing red and blue lights in the distance.

"I'm sorry!" the man shouted, tears streaming down his face. "I'll never do it again, I swear!"

Felix didn't respond. Instead, he turned invisible.

"W-w-w-what...what the fuck....?"

The criminal was left with awe and terror as well as the iron hammer of justice.

With his invisibility, Felix was able to get a running start and soar above the highway. He adjusted his web-wings, angling himself back toward the Rustbucket. The night air was crisp and cool against his suit, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the freedom of flight.

"Everything seems functional. Even Detective Mode is at full capacity," Spidey muttered.

AFFIRMATIVE.

The overlay of Detective Mode was the same except for the colour: rather than light blue, it was dark red in colour. A personal addition from Felix.

"Do the other modes work too?"

There were six modes in total in comparison to the three modes he had with the Big Time Suit. Although, to be honest, he wouldn't exactly call this a stronger suit. Again, the Superior Suit intended purpose was much different than the Big Time Suit.

ALL FUNCTIONAL.

Perfect.

Spider-Man was back.

Seeing the Rustbucket, Felix landed silently on the roof and slipped into the hatch. He removed the mask, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the counter. The suit's nanotech retracted, folding neatly into a small compartment on his back.

Instantly, the RV started moving.

"Well," he muttered to himself, grabbing the leftover shawarma from earlier. "That was a hell of a test run."

Herbie chirped from the console. "Dr. Faeth, the police report indicates the suspect was apprehended successfully. Excellent work."

"Is he scared shitless of Spider-Man."

Pause. "Radio intercepted. Yes, he is scared shitless."

Felix smirked, taking a bite of his food. "Yeah, well, let's not make a habit of this. We're gonna have to take a small detour because of this." He drank his leftover Canada Dry. "Haah. Worth it. Nothing better than ginger ale after some exercise."

Felix glanced out the window at the darkened landscape. Somewhere out there, trouble was brewing. But for now, he was content to enjoy the ride.