pizza!
In which a trash-mouthed pizza delivery girl with ginger hair decides that she doesn't want her sort-of spider-boyfriend to have all of the fun, and therefore decides she wants to save the world too.
"Uh... sorry, man. I just deliver the piz...
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HER LEGS dangled from where she sat at the highest point of the bridge, perched on the edge of one of the giant metal beams, with traffic buzzing below her. She sat barely a foot away from Peter, who hadn't said anything yet, which forced her into silence too, begging her mind to come up with something to say.
She figured, after five minutes of silently watching the cars below, that the only way to escape having to tell him anything, was to throw herself off the top of the bridge, and even then he'd probably save her.
Imogen took in a gentle breath, and started talking.
"It started freshman year." Peter sat straighter, turning his head to look at her finally. "I got.. caught up with some bad people. I— I thought I was just fucking around, having some fun, but then suddenly I'm.. six feet under, buried beneath thousands of dollars of debt," Imogen murmured, lifting her hand to brush her hair back from her face, "And.. Rocks, the blond guy. He wouldn't let me out until I paid back all the debt. I guess, uh.. he likes me a lot, so... instead of putting a bullet in my brain and leaving me in a skip, I'm his queen."
Peter cleared his throat. "Queenie."
"Exactly." Imogen turned, not meeting Peter's eye still. "He likes to keep me around a lot," She mumbled, sniffing gently as her eyes glazed over again, "Sometimes when I piss him off, or.. if he's in a bad mood, he'll roofie me and leave me in the back.. Um, back near the end of freshman year, he.. well, I missed a couple days of school cause he'd roofied me and locked me in the basement, high out of my mind. Only got away because his girlfriend dragged my ass out. She doesn't like, me for— for obvious reasons."
"Why don't you just.. call the cops?"
"It's not that easy, Peter," Imogen insisted, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, "Why don't I just call the cops? You got no idea. He scares the hell out of me. If I called the cops, he'd kill me. And if Rocks didn't kill me himself, there's.. a myriad of people who wouldn't shy away from doing it for him." Peter's lips parted slightly, drinking in the information. "Wouldn't stop there, either. They're bloodthirsty bastards, alright? One wrong move and I come home to my parents beaten to death on the living room floor." She cleared her throat. "I may not like 'em, but I don't want them dead."
Peter swallowed thickly, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly. "Well.. if he's such an asshole, why's he got so many lapdogs?"
Imogen's lips quirked up slightly, rubbing her teary eyes again. "Good question," She murmured, a hint of a laugh, riddled with sarcasm, at her lips. "Rocks' got this.. power, mutation, whatever. He can steal powers from other.. people like him, then put them in someone else. Take... T- Tate, for example. He had enhanced senses. Heard me coming from a mile off, and could probably read a street sign from the top of the Empire State." She hummed fondly, "He was a nice guy."
