[for Steve] make a man out of you
He tells me to meet him in a clearing. It's secluded, far from any dwellings, abandoned or otherwise. Not the kind of place a person's just going to stumble across in the middle of the day, basically. Were it anyone else, I might suspect I was walking into a trap -- and honestly, there's a moment or two, as I cross through some of the denser stretches of jungle, where I entertain the idea, anyway. I've always had a healthy sense of paranoia; it's what's kept me alive this long. But today isn't about relying on dumb luck or good hunches or any number of things I use to supplement actual skill in a fight.
Nope, today's about going to school, so to speak. You never stop learning; if there's one thing I believe in, it's that. There's no experience that can't teach you something, and me, I've got plenty of experience. More than most folks combined. What I don't have a lot of is training; what little I've received over the years from various sources isn't much. Posturing aside, I'm effectively self-taught. Even here, where I've had to condition my mind and body to cope for the loss of my powers, I never bothered going about it in any sort of systematic way. I went by intuition. Trial and error. I used to go out in the middle of the night to fall out of trees when I could've spent those hours in bed with my wife.
There's a saying you hear around hospitals, that no one on their death bed ever wishes they'd spent more time in the office. The problem with my life is, if I hadn't put that time in, I wouldn't have been able to protect her from all the insanity I tend to attract. Maybe it didn't matter in the end, but I have to believe vanishing is better than dying, even if it damn well feels the same.
This isn't about Mary Jane, though. Not really, even if it seems like all roads lead to her, these days, not a single thing about this place that doesn't remind me of her in some way. If the party the other week proved one thing, it's that I do need a distraction, but nothing so frivolous. I need a reason to get out of the mansion that isn't just to make a run to the scrapyard. I need to see people on a regular basis again who aren't just Tony or Pepper. There's no telling what the timeline on this project of mine is going to be; if I don't have something in my life that I can point to and say, 'yes, there's been concrete progress made,' I might very well go insane. And I intend on making progress.
Even so, I can't fight off the fluttering of nerves in the pit of my stomach when I finally come across Steve Rogers -- Captain America himself -- already waiting for me in the middle of the field. He told me to bring just myself, and I listened to the instruction to the letter, opting to leave my web-shooters back at the mansion, and to dress in sweats and a sleeveless t-shirt. Admittedly, it feels weird doing this out of uniform; I find myself wishing for the anonymity of my mask, though the beard would make it pretty uncomfortable. I'm going on my second month, now, without shaving. I just can't be bothered.
But hey, I'm eating again, right? That's something. Of course, I don't know if I'll come to regret having such a big breakfast, but at least I won't have to worry about passing out anytime soon. Well, not from low-blood sugar. There's every chance he'll have to carry me to the clinic by the time we're done here, but that's besides the point. Lifting my hand in greeting, I try to keep the shakiness out of my voice as I call out, "Hi."
Nope, today's about going to school, so to speak. You never stop learning; if there's one thing I believe in, it's that. There's no experience that can't teach you something, and me, I've got plenty of experience. More than most folks combined. What I don't have a lot of is training; what little I've received over the years from various sources isn't much. Posturing aside, I'm effectively self-taught. Even here, where I've had to condition my mind and body to cope for the loss of my powers, I never bothered going about it in any sort of systematic way. I went by intuition. Trial and error. I used to go out in the middle of the night to fall out of trees when I could've spent those hours in bed with my wife.
There's a saying you hear around hospitals, that no one on their death bed ever wishes they'd spent more time in the office. The problem with my life is, if I hadn't put that time in, I wouldn't have been able to protect her from all the insanity I tend to attract. Maybe it didn't matter in the end, but I have to believe vanishing is better than dying, even if it damn well feels the same.
This isn't about Mary Jane, though. Not really, even if it seems like all roads lead to her, these days, not a single thing about this place that doesn't remind me of her in some way. If the party the other week proved one thing, it's that I do need a distraction, but nothing so frivolous. I need a reason to get out of the mansion that isn't just to make a run to the scrapyard. I need to see people on a regular basis again who aren't just Tony or Pepper. There's no telling what the timeline on this project of mine is going to be; if I don't have something in my life that I can point to and say, 'yes, there's been concrete progress made,' I might very well go insane. And I intend on making progress.
Even so, I can't fight off the fluttering of nerves in the pit of my stomach when I finally come across Steve Rogers -- Captain America himself -- already waiting for me in the middle of the field. He told me to bring just myself, and I listened to the instruction to the letter, opting to leave my web-shooters back at the mansion, and to dress in sweats and a sleeveless t-shirt. Admittedly, it feels weird doing this out of uniform; I find myself wishing for the anonymity of my mask, though the beard would make it pretty uncomfortable. I'm going on my second month, now, without shaving. I just can't be bothered.
But hey, I'm eating again, right? That's something. Of course, I don't know if I'll come to regret having such a big breakfast, but at least I won't have to worry about passing out anytime soon. Well, not from low-blood sugar. There's every chance he'll have to carry me to the clinic by the time we're done here, but that's besides the point. Lifting my hand in greeting, I try to keep the shakiness out of my voice as I call out, "Hi."