Chapter Eight - The Confrontation

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Clara woke up, a light thumping in her head and her mind groggy. The room was dark, a light sheen of sweat coating her body reminding her of how stuffy it was. She sat up slowly, first propping her forearms on the bed and, feeling the firm material, she wondered how she had gotten there.

She was definitely still in the hotel, the smell made that clear, and Ned was with her, his loud snores from the opposite corner of the room filling the otherwise silent space. Clara looked to her right, the filthy window blocking any moon light that was struggling to reach the room. With a grunt, she heaved the panel out, the glass swinging open stiffly and sticking in place before it could be fully opened.

Leaning forwards, Clara took a deep breath of the fresh air, the salty smell drawing her sights to the canal below her. A boat was floating on the waters surface, gently rising and falling in the soft current. A breeze pushed against her, urging her to go back into the room. Clara stayed where she was, her mind slowly piecing together what had happened earlier that night.

Who had been waiting for them in the hotel room? She could've sworn she recognised the voice, but her tired mind couldn't string anything together. A series of chimes sounded out from the end of her bed, her bag slumped over the covers, pinning them in place. Clara reached out, digging through the canvas bag for her phone.

The home screen was filled with texts from her parent's, missed calls from throughout the night showing between worried messages. She glanced at the time at the top of the screen, the blaring light forcing her to squint. It was just past three A.M. "Hello?" She said, calling the first number back on her screen. Her voice was rough and her throat felt raw, as if she hadn't drank for days.

"Clara, oh thank goodness!" Her mother cried out, relief filling her tone. "Are you okay? We saw the news and you didn't-"

"I'm fine, Mum." She cut Laura off, stopping the woman's ramblings. She could hear the worry in her tone. "I'm okay, honest."

"Why didn't you call us- Tell us what had happened?" Her mother asked her.

"I, uh... It's complicated." Clara replied truthfully. "I tried to help- well, Spider-Man, Mum. Spider-Man's here."

She heard a conversation playing out on the other end of the line, her mother filling in John with what Clara had said so far. "Do you know who he is?" Laura asked, concern still evident within her words, but now for the security of S.H.I.E.L.D. rather than that of her daughter.

"Er, yeah. I'm pretty sure." She informed them, biting her bottom lip as they stayed silent.

"Okay Clara, you have to make sure you do not tell anyone." Her father said, taking the phone from his wife. "Remember, this isn't just a high school rumour; this is a matter of homeland security and if anyone finds out what you know, you'll be taken in, okay?"

She nodded, then, once her mind caught up to the fact that they couldn't see her, she replied: "Got it." After a few moments of silence, she continued. "Have you been told anything about what's happening?"

"All we know is speculation; different reports have come into S.H.I.E.L.D, but we haven't heard much from Fury yet." Her father said.

"Fury? As in Nick Fury?" Clara asked, the voice she heard last night ringing in her mind. Her parent's had been working as informants for the former S.H.I.E.L.D agent, feeding him any important information he was otherwise unaware of. While they were absolutely being unlawful within S.H.I.E.L.D, the two agents knew Fury had a much clearer understanding of any super-hero matter. "He was here – in the hotel."

"What? You saw Fury?" Her mother asked, the girl now on speaker phone.

"Not exactly." Clara winced, touching the spot on her neck the needle had jabbed into her. "I just recognised his voice; he was talking to Spider-Man."

"Where are you staying?" John asked.

"Er, I don't know. The hotel sign just says 'hotel'." She grimaced. "Just use the tracker you put on my phone."

"Will do." Her mother confirmed. "The man that was fighting the water-"

"Mysterio?" Clara asked.

"What?"

"Doesn't matter. It's just what the class has been calling him."

"Oh, right. Well, his name is Quentin Beck, he's from Earth-833."

"I'm sorry – What?" Clara asked once she had manged to pick her jaw from the ground.

"There are multiple realities, Clara. This is Earth dimension 616 – Mr Beck is from Earth-833." Her father explained, Clara staring at the wall opposite her as her mind struggled to compute what he was saying. "That's the only solid piece of information we've gathered."

"But what about the water monster?" Clara asked, feeling slightly immature at the use of the name she had chosen to give the being. "What is it?"

"Like I said, everything else we've heard is speculation or messaged whispered along chains of people." John stated. "The only viable telling we've heard so far is from a former agent, Hill. She's working with Fury and doesn't know for certain yet herself, but she's been informed by this 'Mysterio', that there are four 'Elementals' each formed from the primary elements: air, water, fire, and earth."

"Beck is claiming the Elementals destroyed his Earth and he's come here to save ours." Laura continued.

"And what do you think?" Clara asked, hearing the uncertainty in her mother's words.

"I'm not sure." She said, seeming defeated. "But, with Fury in Venice, Beck might be too. We don't have a file we can send you but keep an eye out; if you see him, keep your distance."

"Got it." Clara said, saying goodbye and goodnight to her parents before hanging up the phone. She turned back to the window, a soft breeze now drifting into the room. A light reflecting off of the water pulled her attention further down the man made river. A boat drifted towards the hotel along the canal, two men inside, one significantly smaller than the other.

The taller, broader man wore a thick beard, the moon bouncing gently on his leather jacket. Next to him, a younger man – or boy, Clara corrected herself, stood fully masked. Only when the boat got closer could she make out the details on the suit.

Spider-Man jumped from the boat, waved a nervous goodbye to his friend, and headed inside the building.

Clara looked towards the hotel room door, wondering if she should pretend to be asleep and act as if she didn't know.

Then, as the footsteps tapped against the stairs – the creaking making it impossible to stay silent, Clara found herself staying sat upright, waiting for Peter to walk back in.

Eventually, the door swung open and Peter tip-toed towards his bed, peering over Ned to see if he was alright. As soon as he turned to check on Clara, he froze. She smiled back at him, the look as nonchalant as you may expect it to seem from the girl. "Er... Hey, Clara." Peter coward back slightly with nowhere to hide, his mask off and in his hand. "I was just..."

"Coming back from a costume party?" She suggested, a small grin playing on her lips. Peter stared across at her, her features hidden in the dark, but his improved sight allowed him to make out her expression.

"Did you already know?" He said glumly, noticing the lack of surprise.

"If I didn't before, I definitely do now." She pointed out, nodding towards his outfit.

"How'd you figure it out?" He asked with a frown. Clara could barely see him, the sliver of moon light only just illuminating him as he faced the window.

"Oh, I don't know. Probably about the same time you were holding the bell tower up with webbing." Clara lowered herself back down to the bed, her headache worsening as her eyes strained in the dim lighting. "I'm going back to bed. Goodnight, Spider-Man."

She almost instantly felt herself being pulled back into her sleep, leaving Peter Parker standing dumbfounded across the room.

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