Jason carried James down the road, sweating badly and panting. But he reached the house. He halted before it, looking at the house beyond its locked gate. The house looked like a farmhouse, smoke continuing to billow out of its chimney. There was also a truck parked in the front driveway. Someone was clearly home. Hopefully someone who could maybe help them out.
Jason examined the gate. It seemed to be locked. I could smash it open. Jason considered that but then shook his head. That wouldn't endear him to the house's occupant at all. So instead he adjusted James across his back and jumped over the gate. He landed on the other side, kicking up a cloud of dust. Jason rose, James bouncing a little, and moved forward toward the house.
He strolled up the driveway, passing the truck, and reached the front door. A welcome mat lay in front of the door, depicting a smiling cat curled around the word "WELCOME". A wind chime dangled in front of the door, while a trash can sat before the steps.
Jason raised one hand. He hesitated. What the fuck I am supposed to do here? Knock? He licked his lips. The person inside could freak out. Try and blow me away with a shotgun or something. After all, they were out in the middle of nowhere and he must look like a kind of psycho, hauling an unconscious guy and dressed in a freaky outfit.
Welp, Jason sighed. No other choice, really. Got to hope whoever's inside doesn't freak out at the sight of us. Maybe, just fucking maybe, someone can trust us for once. Acknowledge that we're the good guys! Or we were...Jason shook his head. He rapped on the door.
There was a moment of silence. No one came to the door. Jason frowned. He knocked again, this time a little harder. Not too hard though. He didn't want to knock the door off its hinges.
A long stretch of silence went by. Then the door opened a crack and a person's head stuck out. It was a woman. She looked middle aged, her hair a mess, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn. She had probably just rolled out of bed. She was an African-American woman, with a freckled face and somewhat hardened features that suggested she did a lot of physical labor.
"Can I..." She said, supressing another yawn. Her eyes finally opened and the rest of her words died in her throat. She blinked. Then her eyes widened as she looked at Jason.
"Uh..." Jason flashed his best smile. He adjusted James on his back. "Hi there."
The woman continued to stare.
"Uh...listen...my friend and I...we got in a bit of trouble...uh...and um...we were wondering..."
The woman cut him off. "You're one of them," She muttered, looking him over. "You're one of those superheroes I saw on TV."
Jason blinked. Huh. It was weird being recognized. Oh sure, he had been before but he didn't think out here he would be. Still...they had gone on TV recently for that press conference. Guess it was sort of a big deal.
"Uh yeah. That's right. Me and him actually." Jason patted James's arm. James snorted in his sleep. "I'm...the Urban Spider. This here is Midnight. Like I said, we got in a bit of trouble and we could really-"
The woman started to laugh. "Good god..." She rubbed her frazzled hair. "Well. This wasn't the way I expected to start the morning. But damn..." She frowned. "Huh. You're a lot shorter in person, you know."
Jason chuckled at that. "Guess so. I never check. But, uh, can we come in?"
The woman cocked her head. She seemed reluctant. "Well..." She said, her eyes continuing to trail up and down over him. "Well I don't know. They say you all are dangerous. You sound nice enough. But..." She shook her head. "I just don't know. Letting someone like you inside...well..."
"Please," Jason said, taking a step forward. The woman flinched and nearly withdrew inside. "Wait, wait, wait!" She halted, stopping just short of slamming the door. "Sorry, didn't meant to scare you. We...just really need help."
"Ain't helping your case," She muttered. "Being all aggressive like that. I've half a mind to call the police."
Jason shook his head adamantly. Cops...no cops. The police would just make everything worse. Tons of them hated his guts ever since his brutal assault on a police regiment in Conneticut. That hadn't been his finest moment.
"No need. I'm not going to hurt you," Jason patted his spider emblem. "You said it yourself. I'm a superhero! I defend people like you. I don't destroy things..."
"Hm," The woman nodded. She opened the door a little more. "So you said on TV. I guess if you really wanted to hurt me, you'd have just kicked down the door huh."
Jason nodded. "Yeah. I'm a metahuman, won't deny that. Super strength and a few more neat tricks. But I'm not a bad guy. You've seen what those others do on TV? Well, I don't do that. I fight guys like that. And guys like that are after me and him." Jason shook James for emphasis. "We need some help...can you help us?"
The woman hesitated. She still seemed reluctant. "...I don't..." She said, rubbing her head. "This is...I don't know. I mean..." She laughed nervously. "I can barely process this. I never thought something like this would happen to me!"
Jason licked his lips. He needded to earn her trust someone. But how? He could beg and plead all day but that would just waste time. There had to be someway to convince her he was not some all powerful, destructive monster. And maybe...maybe there was.
Jason slowly reached up. The woman flinched back. But Jason raised his hand. "Its okay. Like I said..."
He pulled off his mask. Sighing a bit with relief as he tugged it free, his sweaty head bursting free. He shook his head and smiled at the woman. "...I'm not going to hurt you. My real name is Jacon MacQuil. I'm an orphan. I grew up on the streets of New York after running away from my childhood orphanage. The guy I'm carrying is my teammate and friend, James Fisher Jr. We really need your help. Please."
The woman stared. Then a genuine smile came over her face as she stared at him. "Gosh. ...You're young. How old are you?"
"Twenty two or twenty three," Jason said, shrugging. "I don't exactly keep track."
The woman pursed her lips. Then she sighed and slowly opened the door. "Okay. Fine. If you try anything though, I've got a mean right hook and a shotgun nearby."
Jason sighed with relief and gave her a thumbs up. "Thank you. Really." He carried James into the house, the woman shutting the door behind them.
Jason looked around. He was standing in an entrance foyer. A flight of stairs were at his left, leading upstairs. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, while a few photos decorated the mantle pieces on the walls. A pair of glass doors at the end of the foyer provided a nice look at the landscape behind the house, as well as a patio. To the very right of the end of the foyer was a pair of doors. The woman gestured to him to follow as she trudged toward the doors.
"So what's wrong with him?" The woman asked, jerking a thumb at James as she approached the doors.
Jason started to follow the woman but halted. His eyes went to the second floor. "Him?" He said, a bit distracted. "Oh he's got this thing where he falls asleep during the day...like super-narcolepsy. Hey, is there somewhere I can put him? I don't really wanna carry him around everywhere and he won't wake up for a long while."
The woman glanced over. "Uh...sure." She pointed upstairs. "There's a guest room up there. First one on the left."
"Got it," Jason replied. "Be right back." He clambered up the stairs, the stairs creaking with each step. This seemed like an old house.
Reaching the second floor, Jason found the first room on the left. The door was half-ajar, so he nudged it open with his foot and went inside. The guest room was sparsly decorated, with a cabinet, a window, and a small bed the only notable features.
Jason gently put James down on the bed. James's glasses had nearly fallen off but miraculously, they remained on the very edge of his nose. Jason pushed them back onto James's face. His friend's suit was coated in bits of dirt, grass stains, and dust. Some of it was falling onto the bed.
"Hopefully she won't be too angry about the sheets..." Jason muttered. He patted James's head. "Sleep well, buddy." He rose and left, shutting the door behind him, before heading back downstairs.
He immediately smelled something good as he trotted down the stairs. Jason's stomach growled loudly. He followed the scent, practically drooling, through the now open doors at the end of the foyer.
He found himself in a small kitchen. A large table sat its center, some silverware set up at one side. Behind it was a stove, the woman making some pancakes on it. The sight of them made Jason's stomach grumble again.
"Gosh..." He said as he entered. "Those look good."
The woman turned to him. "Yeah, well, I haven't made these dang things in a while, so forgive me if they're less than perfect. But you looked kinda hungry, so I figured I might as well make something. Dunno if you like pancakes but its what I got."
"Pancakes are...fine," Jason said, still eyeing them. His stomach growled again. "More than fine."
The woman chuckled. She pointed at the fridge. "Get out the syrup and orange then."
Jason did so, finding them easily enough in the fridge and placed them on the table. The woman handed him a glass and he poured himself some juice. Jason took a swig and sighed. It felt really refreshing. He sat down, continuing to drink.
A few minutes later, the woman handed him a plate of pancakes. Jason stared at them and clapsed his hands eagerly. Man they looked good. He took up the syrup and dumped some over the pancakes. He then speared one with the fork and devoured it heartily.
Jason kept this up for a good while, just devouring the pancakes at a rapid pace. He was starving and didn't stop to speak or even breathe. Finally, all that was left was crumbs, and Jason flopped back in his chair. He patted his now full belly, feeling both refreshed and full.
"Wow," Jason turned his eye toward the woman. She was leaning against the stove, wearing a smile. She shook her head. "Last time I saw a man devour that many pancakes in a single sitting was at the fairgrounds eating contest. Don't go throwing up on my nice floor, you got me?"
"Sorry," Jason sat up a bit. He burped. The woman laughed. Jason blushed and smiled back. "I promise I won't. I had been just walking all night and hadn't eaten since last night."
"I see," The woman raised an eyebrow. She came over and took the plate, putting it in the sink and began to wash it. Jason noted her arms were quite burly. "So what the hell happened to you, superman?"
Jason paused. The feeling of elation from the breakfast faded. He frowned and shook his head angrily. "Its..." He mulled over his words. "It's a long story."
"Long story meaning you don't wanna talk about it?"
Jason nodded. "Something like that."
"Well..." The woman turned away from the sink, shutting off the water. "Then I don't think you have the right to sit there, eat my food, and dump your friend in my bed. You want to stay here? Then I think I have a right to know if my life is in danger and if you're gonna bring down the wrath of God on this house like it was brought down on all those cities."
Jason stared at her for a moment. He exhaled. He didn't know if he should be telling her what happened. Hell, he didn't exactly want to talk about it again. But he had already revealed his identity to her and she did have a point. So what the hell?
"Alright, this is gonna sound crazy..."
"Crazy?" The woman laughed again. "I'll tell you what's crazy. All these people with powers and abilities, showing up out of the blue, and wrecking havoc across the country. It's crazy to see New York looking like a warzone, only to find out five people did it. It's crazy to see a bunch of people wearing weird costumes on TV telling us they're here to defend us, they can do a better job than the army or the National Guard. It's crazy to learn that comic books maybe weren't just fantasies. It's crazy to be woken up at six AM and find one of those super-people standing on your front doorstep then watch as he eats your pancakes and learn he could be no older than your nephew." She leaned forward. "So hit me, Spider boy. I think I can take it."
So Jason told her. He didn't hold back. He told her about the team, the base, the battles they had fought, the Director, Robertson, and the brutal assault on the Metahuman Agency. He managed to hold his emotions in check throughout most of it, although he nearly teared up a bit at Robertson's death. But he got through it.
"...And after James collapsed, I dragged him here and well, you know the rest," Jason finished. He leaned across the table, rubbing his gloved hand through his greasy hair. "And uh, yeah. That's about it."
He looked up. The woman was staring down at him, her expression a mixture between shock incredulity. She rubbed her chin, perhaps trying to process all the information Jason had just said. Jason coughed and sat up, flicking some strands of hair out of his face. "Sounds crazy, doesn't it?"
"It..." The woman shook her head. "It would've a few months ago. But with recent events, as insane as that sounds, well, I'm going to have to accept it happened..." She exhaled and sat down. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...that sounds horrific. All those people killed."
Jason nodded slowly. "Yeah...it was uh..." He paused. "It was fucking horrible. Now those guys, the Skeleton Crew, are somewhere out there and trying to hunt us down." He chuckled humorlessly. "So we may bring trouble down on you, I'm sorry to say..."
The woman waved a hand. "It's fine. You're a good person, Jason, I can see that much. I've got a good eye for people. I can tell whether they are good or bad just from a glance, you know. Half the reason I didn't slam the door if your face."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"
"Really," The woman said seriously. "Mama used to call it my Third Eye. But its just good instinct, you know."
"Mmm I see," Jason said. He flexed his shoulders and leaned against the table. "Oh...I didn't catch your name by the way."
"Oh, well, I'm Madeline," The woman said, sitting at the table. She drummed her callused fingers against the tabletop. "Just a lady trying to make a living out here. I farm when it's the right season and I tend bars when its off season. Simple stuff. But I enjoy it."
Jason nodded as he listened. He glanced about and noted that he hadn't seen anyone else in the house.
"You live alone out here?"
Madeline smiled warily. Jason got the feeling she was asked that a lot. "What, my pretty face ain't enough for you?" She chuckled then sighed. "Yeah, I do. Don't even got a cat or a dog to keep me company. But I get by. Honestly, you're the most exciting thing to happen to me since some drunk teens decided to set off a firework in my yard a year back."
Jason nodded, smiling slightly. "Well thanks for taking us in, Madeline. We'll try and leave as soon as we can. But..." He coughed. He didn't wan to impose much further. But he was exhausted. So he asked. "But can I crash here for a few hours? My friend, James, doesn't wake up until six thirty at night. I sorta need him to plan what we're doing next."
Madeline raised an eyebrow. "That's a long time. And what I am supposed to do? Act as a watchdog in case these mercenary fellows show up? You sure you don't wanna call the police?"
Jason shook his head adamantly. He slowly rose from his chair. "No. Not cops. They'll just make things worse. Trust me."
Madeline crossed her arms. "You sure about that?"
"Sure as all hell," Jason said, rubbing his neck. He pointed at himself. "See, police or the rest of the government or most people for that matter don't trust people like me. So they'll either try to arrest me or worse. It'll turn into a mess. So no. No cops, please."
Madeline rose and grabbed the syrup and orange juice. She put them back in the fridge and said, "You sound sure of yourself, Spider boy. Alright. I'll trust you, for now. Mama's probably yelling at me but I got my Third Eye..." She winked. "...And it ain't let me down yet. You seem a good man, Mr. MacQuil, so fine. You can crash here til your friend wakes up and you all form a plan to get out of here."
Jason nodded at her. Man, I really lucked out finding this house. "Thank you," He said, hoping she heard that he meant it. "Really. This is...incredibly generous."
"It'll make for a good story, that's for sure," Madeline muttered. She turned back to the sink. "Now get going. Your eyes are looking droopy. You can stay in my room, since your friend is occupying the guest room. Across the foyer, through the door under the stairs."
Jason nodded to her. He turned and crossed the foyer, finding the door under the stairs. He went in.
Madeline's room was small but nice looking. Plain but comforting all the same. A fan was blowing next to the small bed. A few cabinets sat on the opposite wall, containing a few books and a couple of photographs. A mirror sat under the cabinets, a few cans of bug spray and cream lying against it.
Jason looked down and examined himself in the mirror. Man, he looked awful. Bags had formed under his eyes, he was paler than usual, and even signs of a mustache were growing on his face. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Sleep would be nice.
Jason unzipped his costume and peeled it off. A few chunks of dirt fell out, splattering onto the floor. He looked at his body in the mirror. The bandages around his bullet wound had turned an ugly shade of red. A nasty bruise had formed on his back where the back of his costume had been shot. Everything hurt, from all the fighting, all the walking, moving nonstop since last night.
Jason sighed and collapsed into the bed. Instantly, his body seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. He listened to the soft hum of the fan, pulling the soft sheets over himself, the cool breez wafting over him.
In a few hours, they'd be back in action. To find their friends and get somewhere safe. Somewhere they could tell everyone what had happened and take the fight to the Skeleton Crew. Make those bastards pay.
But that would be later. And later seemed so far away right now.
Jason slowly closed his eyes. Within minutes, the hum of the fan lulled him to sleep and his mind was overtaken by a pleasant blackness.