Look 'bad luck' up in the dictionary. Go on. We'll wait. See there? That picture of an awkward college student tripping over his own feet? That's Peter Parker. He's majoring in chemical engineering, and by some stroke of (you guessed it) bad luck, t...
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The Connors' apartment had been circled by the NYPD since the remains were called in. It was difficult to get closer for both Peter Parker and Spider-Man. The perimeter was tight, so it looked to Spidey like the C.S.I. crew was working the crime scene.
Perched on the side of a building a block away, Peter furrowed his brow.
He hadn't found anything traceable earlier...but maybe the police could. After all, he didn't exactly have a crime lab. Peter knew coming back here wouldn't accomplish anything...but he didn't know what else to do. His friend's family had been butchered.
"Woah, what the hell is going on over there?"
At this point, like you, Peter wasn't surprised to hear a certain obnoxious voice interrupt his rumination.
Spidey turned his head and spied Protonslaught hovering down from the night sky. Peter wasn't in the mood. "Not tonight," he said bluntly.
"Geez. Must be serious then. Shouldn't we be down there?"
With a sigh, Peter turned back to face the apartment building. "Unless you're secretly a coroner, I wouldn't bother."
"...This is going to sound really bad...but what's a coroner?"
Peter inhaled sharply. "People died today, Prote. Could you just...not, for once?"
She fell silent. Peter watched as the cops maintained the barricade and kept nosy neighbours at bay.
"Look...I'm sorry."
"I can tell when someone's forcing a personality. Trust me, I wrote the book on it. Why are you doing it so hard?" Spidey asked.
Prote glanced away.
Suddenly, there was a loud 'bang'. It wasn't a gunshot...Peter was very familiar with what they sounded like at this point. The cops stirred and peered at the alleyway next to the apartment building.
Peter reached toward his backpack and pulled out his phone. After tapping away at it, a feed from the local police channel came through.
"--some bum going through the trash. Gimme a sec," said a police officer.
He then trailed off from the rest of the group and slunk into the alleyway.
"Watch it, Kev. Heard Plant-Man's running around again."
"Ha ha. Ha ha. Shut up. I got a concussion from that stupid goddamn coconut."
"Right. Well, I heard there's a guy working Soho who got shot in the head by Bullseye and he got up and continued pursuit before he realised he had a bullet in his brain."
No smart remark came from the officer investigating.
Peter narrowed his eyes.
"Kev?" asked the cop's partner. "Goodman, Nguyen, you're with me. Mo, you stay put."
