Deadpool Syndrome - Spider Soulmates

Chapter 19 - With The World In His Hands

***PETER***

Tadashi holds out his tablet again. "You wanna-?"

"No," I say, pushing away from him with more force than is necessary. "If I look at that and see they've already got Miles bitten, then I'm really gonna get pissed at myself for failing him."

"Peter Parker," Deadpool says, chuckling as he puts on a fake deep, raspy voice, "you have failed this Miles. Prepare to die!"

"Did you just combine two antiheroes' catchphrases?" Stark asks.

"So what if I did?" asks Deadpool, crossing his arms. "Honestly, Petey, ever since I found out you went to Star City - back when it was still Starling, that is - and you met the Arrow, I've been so super-duper jealous of you, it's not even funny." He cocks his head as I stare at him, stunned by yet another lost detail from my past - although this time, the memory itself isn't coming back to me. Probably because my mind's mostly elsewhere.

Outside the window, Washington, DC approaches. The Triskelion, the famous old SHIELD headquarters, looms across the Potomac, still under reconstruction. The new SHIELD HQ, the super-secret one where we stayed until the day Norman took Gwen, is a half-mile upriver on the same shore.

"Cloaking off in three, two, one," Ultron announces from the cockpit as we come down towards that low-slung, nondescript building. "Now they can see us coming, but who cares? It's not like they'll be able to do anything about it."

"'Cause they're already dealing with our friends, right?" asks Gwen.

"You got it, dude."

"Whoever let you watch Full House should be shot," Stark gripes.

Ultron narrows his eyes at him. "That would be you, creator."

Stark lets out a long groan. "Just another regret for the list. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hope I die before I get old."

"You mean, before you get old again?" I point out, feeling the need to try and distract myself with a joke of my own. It works for maybe two split seconds.

"I was never old," Stark says. "And I look pretty young, but I'm just backdated."

Okay, make that more than two split seconds. Unless Stark's out of The Who's most quotable lyrics? Because I'm not. "Gonna get on my knees and pray we don't get fooled again," I say, doing exactly that. Trouble is, at this point, I've kinda lost track of who's most likely to answer my prayers. God? The writer? Deadpool?

"And thank you," Natasha says, "for not doing the CSI: Miami 'YEAAAAHHHHHH!' thing."

"You're welcome," I say. Finally drained of humor at last - for now, anyway - I take off my street clothes and clip two webshooters to my wrists. Norman and Harry need to know that in spite of whatever they're planning, there's only one Spider-Man, and I intend to keep it that way. (I said "one Spider-Man" - there's still room in this story for Spider-Man and Spider-Gwen, always.)

Gwen and I exchange glances, and we see that we've both suited up. "Looking good, as always," I tell her.

Under her mask, Gwen nods. "Likewise."

As soon as Ultron brings the jet to a stop, still in midair over the building, he says, "When I open the hatch, all hell is gonna break loose, if you'll excuse my cliché."

"Are we supposed to use our weblines to lower ourselves down?" I ask.

"As quickly as possible, too," says Ultron. "Before the Dark Elves think to cut them."