CAT SCRATCH FEVER | PETER PARKER

Look What The Cat Dragged In

As the crisp autumn air breezed through the stitching in his mask, the frown etched across Peter's face was already beginning to vanish. Seeing the city come alive around him in glowing shades of blue and yellow was enough to forget the initial disappointment brought on by the day.

Swinging between the endless rows of skyscrapers, Peter navigated through them with ease. At one point he even dared to flip mid-air, much to the applause of the crowd below.

"Yeah! Go Spider-Man!" One guy cheered, giving the web-slinger a fist pump.

Peter chuckled from under his mask, unable to keep himself from grinning. Maybe today wasn't so bad.

A feeling he was all too familiar with suddenly came over him. The prickling sensation tickled the back of his neck, and the hairs on his arms stood up. He turned his head to the side, seeing he was coming upon the massive museum that was the Met. As he swung closer to the park's edge, that tingling only grew stronger.

There was no mistaking it then. Something was going down in there.

With a giant leap, Peter broke from his webbing and landed right on the colossal steps that went up to the museum. After straightening up from his bent knees, he started climbing, awing at the sight in front of him. The Met was already an impressive building during the day, but at night when it was against the backdrop of a twilight sky, was something else entirely. Beams of pale golden light shone between the massive pallid pillars, illuminating the front. At the bottom of the steps, spouts of water danced in hues of neon blue.

Upon reaching the front doors, Peter noticed the museum was already closed despite the early hour. "Oh, right. It's Monday," he muttered, remembering how the Met closed early on weekdays.

He pressed his face against the glass, trying to peer inside the dark lobby. The door shifted forward instantly, making him startle back.

It was unlocked.

The prickling was at its strongest, almost to the point of stinging his skin. Pushing the door open, Peter stepped into the thick darkness and listened for the slightest hint of what might be going on. From deep within the museum, the sound of something heavy falling to the floor echoed through the dark, empty hallways.

Tiptoeing across the tile, Peter went further into the museum. Careful not to alert whoever was there, the web-slinger maneuvered through the various exhibits, using what little light the windows above provided.

As he rounded a corner, his eyes briefly fell upon the immense painting of a man and what looked to be an animal with a woman's head and feathered wings clinging onto him.

Weird.

He passed it, continuing into the exhibit filled with paintings and sculptures. Peter had not gotten far before he heard the sound of something hoisted off the ground and into the air. From up ahead, a black figure moved, creeping towards him with eyes that seemed to gleam in the dark.

"Stop!" Peter jumped out from behind a display.

The figure froze underneath the skylight. In its hand, or rather her claw was a ceramic cat. In the other, was a hefty nylon bag filled with what Peter could only assume was stolen artifacts.

"Drop it," he ordered, beginning to approach her.

Her green eyes glanced between him and the bag in her hand. "I think there's been a mistake," she said. "You see, I'm the janitor."

Peter's outstretched hand wavered. "Wait, what?"

A toothy grin crossed her face as she nodded her head. "Yeah, I'm here to clean this place out."