"I never thought I'd say this, but I almost miss fighting Doctor Octopus, it's kinda creepy when it's this quiet around here..."
Parker does have a point.
It's been a bit over a week since the team fought The Masters Of Evil, and while the city isn't exactly quiet, ever since then, there's been this... eerie calm over New York, like the calm before a storm, if you want to use a cliche. The rest of the team doesn't really patrol looking for crime, atleast not the way Spider-Man does, and unlike what the comic books might have made it seem, supercrime doesn't happen every day, conveniently in the afternoon when Peter Parker was out of school, but there's been a strange lack of ANY crime over the past few days, outside the occasional purse snatcher. Even with the early December chill, I'd have expected a bit more activity down in the streets, and I doubt criminals take the holidays off.
I'm sitting cross-legged on the edge of a rooftop overlooking Greenwich Village, not too far away from where I fought The Scarecrow just over a month ago, and it's hard to believe this is the same part of the city that nearly tore itself to shreds in a fit of insanity just a few short weeks ago. I mean, I wasn't expecting there to still be blood stains on the street or anything, but things look almost new down there, like all that madness never happened at all. I remember in the Astro City comics, everyone had learned to come together and quickly clean up and fix things after every new random case of supervillain, but I never thought that'd be a real thing. Maybe it is?
Spider-Man is squatting on the ledge next to me, staring out over The Village with those blank lenses of his. "You're noticing it too, right? The quiet? It's not just me?"
"I haven't lived in New York for very long, and I haven't been in the masked pajamas business nearly as long as you have, but yeah, something has been feeling off lately. I take it it's usually a bit more hectic around here?"
"...I know it's stupid, but I don't like it when it's like this. It doesn't feel right." He fidgets uncomfortably "If there was a bad guy I could fight, I know how to deal with that, even if it's dangerous, but this? It's like the whole city is holding it's breath or something..."
I shrug "Someone tried to kill THE PRESIDENT, kid. And not just anyone either, an entire group of supervillains. Even if it was on the other side of the country, that sticks with people. It's not just something that happens to superheroes anymore, the most important man in the country almost died, I think that hit home that it could happen to anyone just because they're in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hell, dozens of people DID die, and that's not counting the ones who will never be quite the same again. There's only so much doctors can fix"
He doesn't answer for a while, and we sit in silence, listening to the distant sound of traffic, watching the pedestrians below make their way through the winter evening "...Aunt May talked about something like this once. The quiet?" I don't respond, waiting for him to continue "It was back in 1938. She was in her 30's then, she'd been married to Uncle Ben for a few years, he was in the army and everyone were talking about what was going on in Europe but life just went on as normal, you know? Then one day, it just... happened. This... thing, made out of fire, just shows up, just walks through the city, and nothing stops it. Not cars, not buildings, not even bullets, she said it was like... like, a natural disaster, but a person. And just like that, any sense of normalcy was gone. And then, almost at the same time, a man walks out of the sea..." He shakes his head "The way she talked about it, it sounded a lot like this, like everything is different all of a sudden, and nobody knows what to do about it."
I don't really have anything to add to that. All in all, before all of this, I'd lived a fairly sheltered life, personal difficulties and family tragedies certainly, but nothing like this, not anything that almost literally turned my world upside down. For everything Peter has already dealt with, I think this might still be a bit overwhelming.
And if the future is anything like the one I know about, I fear it's not going to get any better.
I get back to my feet, tugging my coat tighter around myself, before I motion for him to follow me "Alright kid, let's go."
"What? Where?"
"I know what it's like getting into your own head like you're doing, you need a change of pace"
He hesitates "We can't just go! What about patrol?"
"Dude, there's no one out tonight, we can go back to freezing our asses off looking for pickpockets after we get something to warm us up. And since you don't seem like the type for underage drinking, we go with my second choice..."
.....
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in a Bleak December
And things were rather slow at the Coffee-A-Go-Go, as cold crept across The Village
The poets didn't rhyme, and the musicians didn't play, the year had been hard
And even the journo with his white suit and cheap glasses was quiet for once
When Mr. Merry Sunshine wrapped in the stars and stripes walked through our doors
A Spider-Dude Close By his Side
- Musings At The Coffee-A-Go-Go, Bernard The Poet, December 4th, 1963 (Unpublished)
Yep, the Coffee-A-Go-Go had seen happier days, Bernard thought as he lazily scratched at his goatee, observing the sparse crowd hanging around the bar. A gaggle of teenagers were hanging around the tables by the window, chattering happily away about whatever kids found important in the world, and of course "Big" Brown was here as usual, holding court with the writer set over by the stage, the tall, dark-skinned man virtually towering over everyone else. And of course Wolfe was there over by the bar, scribbling away in that notebook of his. But it didn't feel happening like it should, it didn't feel quite real, somehow. He found himself missing those Westchester kids too, Red-Eyed Scott and Pretty Jean, Big Man Hank and Pale Bobby. Even Rich Boy Warren. Even if he had the sneaking suspicion the boys in the group mostly came to moon over pretty Zelda behind the bar, they usually spiced the place up a bit. Most of the regulars seemed to have decided to stay home on this bleak winter eve, and Bernard couldn't blame them. That big bash down Texas way was all anyone could talk about these days, and it hardly made for spiritual conversation. Now they'd started talking about funerals and memorials, and it was just a huge bring-down overall.
Yes, we all gotta go that way sooner or later, and Bernard had no great love for Big Brother and his stooges, but no one deserved to go the way those poor souls had. Somehow, this all seemed heavier than all the crazy that went down back on Halloween Night. He'd been there of course, hanging out by the bar, wearing a rather chique home-made Captain America costume, rather spiffy if he could say so himself (and he did), and tossing out treats and rhymes for the kiddies when they came by. The treats had admittedly been a bigger hit with the kids than the verse, but they'd grow into it, he was sure. Of course, then the sky started vomiting nightmares, and he had a close encounter with a zombie dressed as Uncle Sam that crawled out of an old recruitment poster hanging on the wall. The evening turned rather hectic after that. Bad vibes, man.
Still, the coffee bar was as jumping as always the next night. Sure, they'd all had a date with all the bad things crawling around inside of them, but when life gives you terror lemons, an artist makes terror lemonade! Once all was said and done, it had all just seemed like a crazy trip, something to jot down into verse. That Dylan guy had been up on stage, strumming out a few new ideas he'd gotten on his guitar.
Now though? This didn't feel like an adventure. It was just sad. Things would pick up again once christmas rolled around again, and people started getting cheerful on tacky sweaters and egg nogg, but that didn't exactly improve the mood right now.
Then the door opened, and a walking ray of sunshine stepped inside.534