The rest of the day was a blur. Peter couldn't get what MJ had said out of his head. He needed to prove himself to her, but he had no idea how. She was the hardest person in the world to impress, but the thought of convincing her of something she didn't believe in sounded like the most terrifying task in the world. MJ was as stubborn as she was amazing.
Peter stayed out late that night, chilling out in a scrapyard just across the river from Manhattan. It was quiet and a good place for him to think. Sometimes there were friendly stray dogs that he'd give treats to, but there were none there on that particular night.
"What kind of things are gray, Karen?" Peter asked his A.I.
Hmm, there are some particular breeds of dogs and cats that are gray. Also vintage photos and old movies appear that color.
"Movies!" Peter exclaimed in realization, "MJ said she loves old black and white movies! Especially old shows like I Love Lucy and The Twilight Zone."
Before Karen could suggest anything else, another thought hit him. "And pencil lead! Charcoal pencils! The things she draws with! Almost all her pictures are gray!"
You're very observant, Peter.
"What else..? Maybe she loves gray because it's the perfect balancing color between light and dark?"
Is it that deep a reason?
"Have you met MJ?" Peter asked, "everything's a philosophical breakdown with her."
Then, there was a rustle from one of the scrap piles. Immediately growing alert, Peter stood up, letting his backpack slide off his shoulders onto the roof of the car he was perched on. Karen ran a scan, searching for a heat signature, but didn't find one.
Check behind you.
Peter did as he was told and turned, only to see a flash of orange across his lenses. Something was hiding out in the yard, and Peter began to feel like he was being hunted.
Peter, get out of there.
He was slow to respond, because every muscle was tense with anticipation. Something was waiting for him to move, baiting him to try and escape. He was being watched, being preyed on like a wild animal.
Or by a wild animal.
"Werewolf?" Peter called, taking a chance that it might be the anti-hero. There was no answer, and Peter started to feel stupid. It was probably just a cat or one of the dogs of the scrapyard. Nothing to get worked up about.
"Don't worry, Karen," he assured his A.I. as he picked up his book bag and started to hop the cars, "it was nothing."
He had spoken way too soon.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth when a fearsome roar split the quiet night air. Peter whipped around to see the colossal form of Werewolf lunging at him. The young hero sidestepped out of the way, and the black-furred lycan landed back on the ground, turning on Peter with bared teeth. He wore ragged blue trousers and his eyes were glowing his usual brilliant blue, his pupils vertical slits like that of a snake.
"You know, I gotta admit, you had me there," Peter conceded, tossing his backpack aside.
But Werewolf wasn't into the banter, and instead of charging Peter, he rammed into the car he was standing on. The boy backflipped away as Werewolf tore his way through it, chasing after Peter.
Never before had Peter taken on Werewolf in an all-out brawl. The Coney Island thing didn't really count because the lycan ended up running away, and the Brooklyn Bridge was more or less Peter just evading thrown cars. Even during the truck chase, Werewolf wasn't really out to fight him. But now, nothing about Werewolf's persona gave off a feeling of distraction or escape. Werewolf was fighting to win.
He was fighting to kill.
And, like an idiot, Peter decided to take him on one-on-one.
It was like a mixed martial arts match, but way, way harder. Werewolf was huge and powerful, and every missed blow sent up a gust of wind. The best Peter could do was kick him in the head and stop his punches, because the web-slinger's own punches weren't strong enough to inflict any real damage on Werewolf. The lycan even tried to bite Peter, but the boy grasped both his jaws and kept him back. It made him feel like King Kong when he fought the T-Rex.
Peter did a good job keeping up until he was blinded by a flash from Werewolf's helmet. The wires within it were glowing an electric blue, sparking wildly. Someone must have cranked up the power, because Werewolf seemed to grimace in pain, roaring fiercely as he shook his head.
"Let me help you!" Peter said, trying to web down his stomping feet, "I can get it off!"
But Werewolf wouldn't have that, and he swiped at Peter, keeping him away. But the boy was undaunted, and he swung onto the lycan's powerful shoulders and attempted to rip the helmet off. But Werewolf managed to grip the back of Peter's suit and throw him to the ground. Temporarily stunned and gasping for breath, the hero tried to roll away. But Werewolf brought his foot down on Peter's chest, locking his claws in, digging into Peter's skin. The boy cried out in agony as Werewolf lifted him by the neck, and slid his steel claws down his chest, ripping three lines through his suit and three lines into his skin, drawing blood.
"Man, not the suit," Peter groaned in sorrow as Werewolf dragged his limp frame across the yard to a vehicle. The boy struggled in vain to loosen his hold, but couldn't as he was lifted again.
Without mercy, the lycan then slammed Peter into the side of a rusted SUV, his head breaking through the glass. Still holding him by the throat, Werewolf rammed the hero again and again into the vehicle, showing his steel teeth in a terrible snarl.
He then dropped Peter when he stopped resisting, standing over him. Slowly, Peter lifted his head, blood coming out of his mouth from a torn lip, and he took off his mask as he coughed, his ribs aching. But rather than give up, he decided to try one last thing.
Summoning the last of his strength, he jumped up and webbed both of Werewolf's feet, pulling and successfully making him fall on his back. Dropping his mask, Peter used the opportunity to ensnare every flailing limb, even muzzling him. But Werewolf was quickly tearing through his web prison, so Peter acted fast, leaping to Werewolf's head and finding the metal clasp that held the slick steel strapping in place around the base of his chin. The helmet was glowing, getting ready to distribute another charge, and Peter unclipped it as Werewolf broke free.
The helmet tumbled to the ground and pulsed, sending out a small shockwave that made Peter's skin tingle. But its release didn't effect Werewolf immediately, for the second he regained his feet, he delivered a swift backhand to Peter, knocking him face first to the ground. The boy was then picked by the leg and he was swung, crashing into the nearest car and eventually falling limp to the ground. Werewolf approached him and stood ready for the kill, growling with flattened ears as he brandished his claws.
"I thought... you said... you'd never... kill me," Peter choked out, not looking up at Werewolf. The last thing he'd wanna see were his possessed, snake-like pupils.
He braced for a blow that would crush his skull, but nothing came. Werewolf instead was staring around, breathing hard. His muscles relaxed and his tail stopped thrashing. The pupils in his eyes returned from slits to their normal spheres, and the vicious glow evaporated from his gaze. He sighed heavily as the tension from his body released, and he swayed.
Then, he looked down Peter, and his blue eyes went wide in shock as he remembered everything. He gasped and took a step forward, then glanced at his paws. He recoiled, realizing what had just taken place.
"No no no," he blustered softly, "I couldn't have. I didn't-no no no."
"Welcome back," Peter groaned, forcing himself to get to his knees. He gave the mortified lycan a weak smile. Peter looked down and saw that his suit was reattaching itself, the fibers intertwining as it stitched itself back together, like new.
"I can't- I couldn't have-," Werewolf was stammering. He was stunned, horrified by his actions, "I'm so sorry. I had no control. You have to believe me."
Peter held up a hand, "it's okay, Wolf. At least you're back."
There was a bright blue spark from the helmet that lay on the ground. Frowning, Peter webbed it to himself and proceeded to snap it in half, breaking all the wires. Whoever made this had meant to contain Werewolf by breaking his mind, over and over again.
Werewolf gaped, unable to process the battered hero's forgiving tone. He moved to say something when he flicked his ears back. Something that looked like a plane was arcing through the night, and rounded off, right toward them.
While Werewolf stared in puzzlement, Peter knew immediately. He reached out to warn Werewolf but it was too late.
The lycan turned his whole body as Iron Man barreled toward him, throwing his fist straight into Werewolf's jaw. He stumbled backward with a cry, and tried to hold off the suit's precise hits, which seemed to target all of Werewolf's weak spots.
"No!!!" Peter shouted, webbing his mentor's arm and yanking back before he could deal a blow. Werewolf stumbled away, turning to run, but Tony aimed a hand at him, shooting a golden beam. The lycan screeched as the laser made contact with his skin, creating a horrible burn on his shoulder. But the burn instantly healed, skin growing back and the black fur over it.
"Stop!!!" Peter shouted desperately to Tony, "please stop!!!"
The boy webbed both of his arms and pulled him away before he could shoot Werewolf again. The lycan disappeared from the scrapyard, fleeing into the night.
"You better have a good explanation," Tony then said angrily, ripping Peter's webs off his suit as he turned to him.
How would he even start?
Yoooo, are you kidding me with 100+ votes?!?! That's amazing! I can't believe it honestly! Wow, my mind's blown. My happiness is unrivaled right now. I love all of you. Just know that.
~Fargone5