Peter stirred, feeling blood slowly trickle out of his mouth towards his ear. His torso felt as though he had been battered for a few hours by someone big. He struggled to raise his head, feeling half alive. He was indeed half alive; he could feel his living system doing battle with a lethargy that concealed a tremendous power for an insupportable price.

He struggled to focus as the lizard creature hissed furiously, crashing through a thin partition in the loft. Peter blinked in time to see the vampire sink its jaws into the lizard's arm.

The lizard snatched the vampire's face with its talons and wrenched, bursting the vampire's jaw muscles and tearing its face. The lizard clamped its mouth on the vampire's throat and tore it out, then tossed it aside like a broken doll.

As Peter looked around the dim room he saw smoke drifting and coiling in the breezy room. That was the last vampire.

The lizard, furious and wounded, glared around with a warning hiss.

Then it saw its most hated enemy.

It crouched and advanced, tail slowly lashing. It closed in on the spider ghost…

xXx

Kravinoff ducked her rapid strike and plunged his knife through her knee, tearing it out as he spun away. She shrieked and pounced, catching his back, and he slung her off to slam into a wall full force. She curled out of the way as he closed in, slashing.

Then she was behind him, and she shoved him into the wall with a clang. She leaned in close, her tongue darting out to taste the air. "This is where it ends," she snarled, gripping his head.

He smiled.

xXx

Peter felt his eyes glaze as the lizard stalked closer. He could feel the surging struggling power within him, and he knew that all he had to do to survive this and kill the lizard was to surrender his life. He felt every fiber of his nerves, every ounce of bone in his body fighting the death that was pulling on him, pulling him down into a morass of permanent darkness. His breath was thin and shallow.

Peter felt a moment of clarity as he made his decision.

"Better to die," he gritted out, and his hands feebly clutched the sheets of the bed as the lizard gathered itself for a spring. "I will not… surrender…"

The lizard's hiss deepened and swarmed with menace, then it hesitated. It blinked. It growled again, uncertainly this time. It staggered back a step, tail twitching, then clutched its head and groaned. The lizard collapsed and curled up behind a rack of debris from the fight.

Peter lay back, drifting in and out of consciousness, when he felt a lightness come to him. He felt giddy, and he wondered if he was at last dying. It was very peaceful.

Connors pulled himself out of the wreck of the flimsy interior wall and pulled on clothes. "I feel… terrible," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Peter said dreamily. "I feel good. Except my arms hurt a little. Are you okay?"

"I am stronger," Connors said, pressing his hand against his chest. "I forced the lizard back. Took control."

"Helps that most of the tattoo was still there," Peter noted.

"Yes," Connors said. He moved his hand. The wound had healed, but left little pale scars on either side of where he had cut the tattoo before his chest healed. "We must all be stronger than the darkness inside us." He smiled ruefully. "And I need to get to a tattoo parlor right away."

"I think I'm going to live," Peter said, a touch of wonder in his voice. His heart beat was smooth and strong, his breathing easy and relaxed. "I'm tired, but Kravinoff must have gotten the vampire. Tell you what, though. I'm about to pass out for like twelve hours. Got any uppers?"

"This is such a bad idea," Connors said. He heaved a sigh. "Yes."

"Ooh, gimmie a handful," Peter said. Connors tossed him the bottle and he broke the top off and poured a few pills out.

"Do you know of any tattoo parlors that would be open at this hour?" Connors asked.

"I'm a college student in New York," Peter said. "Get your coat and we'll go."

xXx

"So what are you going to do now?" Connors asked as the streetlamps rhythmically lit and shadowed the interior of the cab.

"Get Kravinoff," Peter said. "I need to make sure he's okay."

"How will you begin to look for him?" Connors asked.

Peter shrugged. "One of the vampires shot me with a speargun. It wasn't new, or for show. It was nicked and scratched. Plus their clothes reeked of polluted water and rust. They're somewhere on the docks."

"And you can narrow it down from there," Connors said doubtfully.

"I'll trust to luck," Peter said with a secret smile.

"Suit yourself," Connors said. "You've certainly spiced up my trip," he added with a sigh.

"I do what I can," Peter said with a slightly sheepish grin. "Sorry about the mess. Lunch, my treat, tomorrow before you go."

"Fair enough," Connors said. "I'll let you get in touch with me."

"Here we are," Peter said as the cab pulled up to the curb in front of a seedy barber shop. "Their setup is downstairs. You should be fine."

"See you tomorrow," Connors said. He chuckled. "I hope they don't start anything with me in my current state. Could be bad for them."

"Watch yourself," Peter said. "I'll see you later today."

Connors stepped out of the cab and slammed the door.

"Where to?" asked the cabbie.

"The docks," Peter said. "Step on it."

xXx

The dark hold shifted and creaked as the waves slid along the metal hull of the rusting ship. Stealthy footsteps rustled along the metal.

"Kravinoff?" a voice said uncertainly, echoing in the metal room.

Peter heard a groan, and he moved faster. He knelt by a dark shape, then rolled him over into a narrow shaft of moonlight that pushed through the grimy porthole.

Kravinoff's face was cut, and his mouth was bloody. His eyes fluttered, then opened. They were full of pain.

"Parker," Kravinoff managed. "I still live."

"You're going to live," Peter said, checking his pulse. "Hang in there. I'll get you out of this."

"Guns," Kravinoff said. He pointed.

"Later. First I have to get you back to my place." He hefted the heavy man, then as carefully as he could he carried him out of the ship and back up to the pavement.

"Big tip night and you didn't see anything," Peter said to the cabbie as he muscled Kravinoff into the cab.

"Eyes ta da road, dat's me," the cabbie grunted.

Twenty minutes later the cab pulled to a stop outside an apartment building. Peter slipped a hundred dollar bill to the cabbie and carried Kravinoff up the stairs to his place.

"Home sweet home," he said, opening the door and supporting Kravinoff as he staggered in. He slung the huge man down on the couch. "Don't worry about blood stains. Just hang in there."

"Howju fin me?" Kravinoff asked, his breathing shallow.

"I have my ways," Peter said with a grin, the scent of his spider tracer pheromones strong from where he had put it on Kravinoff's bandages. "I could tell you, but that would get awkward if you ever decide to kill me again."

Peter reapplied webbing to Kravinoff's wounds where they had torn open from his exertions, and he poured peroxide on his new cuts and webbed them too. "Broken bones and organs will have to wait for now," Peter said. "How do you feel?"

Kravinoff managed a weak smile. "You have to go back," he said. "Things… things I know you must see."

"I will," Peter said, "as soon as I'm sure you'll be alright."

"I must live," Kravinoff coughed out. "The hunt is not yet over."

"But you got Necra. Right?" Peter said.

Kravinoff stared into his eyes, an inner fire burning in him. "Necra was the emissary. She is nothing. Something else is beneath. And beneath that." He gripped Peter's sleeve. "I will find and slay what is behind it all, spider ghost. Nothing will stop me."

"Well," Peter said slowly, "that's nice, but you need to take a nap."

Kravinoff leaned back, asleep.

"Good," Peter said. He checked the time. Quarter to three. He walked over to his table and looked down at a foil wrapped package and a note. He smiled fondly as he opened the note.

Hey Danger Butt

Hope you got home in one piece.

If the world is now safe from the

forces of evil I'll stitch you up

tomorrow. If you're a heel who

stood me up, come on by if you

get in before midnight.

MJ

Peter peeked under the foil and saw a tall piece of chocolate cake. He chuckled, then left the note and the cake.

"World isn't safe from the forces of evil just yet," he muttered, and he headed back out.

xXx

Peter peered around in the rusted hold of the ship. He saw piles and smears of ash and muddy gore here and there, and a glint of metal on the wall caught his eye. He walked over and saw a pair of hedge clippers rammed into the metal wall of the hold, and dangling from the blades a brittle bone eye socket and cheekbone. He gingerly touched the bone and it fell to ash. He shivered.

"So long, Necra," he murmured. Then he played the flashlight over the boxes stacked on the other side of the hold.

He stopped. He pried one open.

Guns.

Lots of guns.

He pried open another one. Grenades. Another. A portable rocket launcher.

"Wow," he whispered. "Hot damn."

His mind had already formulated a plan.

xXx

"Somebody better be dead," grunted the voice on the other end of the line.

"Oh," Peter said. "I guess it is three thirty. Hey, Doug, I need a favor and I'm willing to share information to get it."

"Parker," Doug said. "I appreciate that you took me to a very nice restaurant to reward me for the last time you woke me up at an ungodly hour to be your personal encyclopedia. I must warn you. The next time you do this they will not find all your pieces."

"I found a weapons shipment of military grade materials loaded on a ship to be smuggled out of New York," Peter said. "I have the dock number and the ship name. This is big. Really big."

"Okay," Doug said, sounding more alert. "That's news. What are you planning to do about it? You don't want to start anything with Fisk again do you?"

"Not a chance," Peter said, "but I can't let it go, either. That brings me to the favor I need."

"What's that?"

Peter grinned.

"Just need an unlisted number, that's all."

xXx

The phone jangled, and the sleeping man fumbled for it. He caught it up. "Hlo?" he managed, squinting at the clock in the darkness.

"Brilhart," came the voice on the other end. "I got an anonymous tip for ya."

"Who is this?" Brilhart managed.

"Yer informant pal," came the other voice, deliberately roughened. Brilhart blinked himself awake.

"How did you get this number?"

"Pier thirty one, the Dark Mistress out of Singapore. In the hold is a shipment of military grade weaponry ready to move. Better get it fast, it's unguarded as of right now but that won't last until morning."

"Hey," Brilhart said. The phone clicked a disconnection.

The shape on the bed next to him stirred. "Who was that?"

"Gotta go," he said shortly, and he was moving.

Far away, Peter Parker grinned as he hung up the phone.

xXx

Peter blearily yawned, then stretched. He glanced at his alarm clock and noticed it was almost noon. "Got my eight hours," he said with a grin, and he hopped out of bed feeling a bit soggy. He trudged into the living room and glanced at the couch. Kravinoff was gone. Peter sighed, not entirely surprised. He looked over the web bandages he had over both shoulders, and sighed. "If I want food I gotta move my arms," he muttered. He opened the fridge, wincing.

On the rack in the fridge was a small leather bag. He pulled it out, and saw it was weighting down a piece of paper. He picked the paper up.

"A souvenir," he read aloud. He hefted the bag, it was about the size of a hackey sack. He sniffed it, and caught the pungent stink of vampiric ashes.

"We give each other the cutest presents," he grinned to himself, and he shut the fridge. He hung the sack over the kitchen sink, then scooped up the foil covered cake and stripped it.

"Hello breakfast," he said to himself. Then he blinked. "Hang on," he said. "Lunch with Connors. Right." He replaced the cake. "Your days are numbered, though," he said sternly to the dessert. "Now I gotta shower and stuff…"

xXx

Connors was moving slowly as he walked into the lobby of the Chinese restaurant. Peter stood and greeted him.

"What's up, Doc," he said. "You look a little stiff today."

"You should if you don't," chided Connors. "That was a hell of a night."

"I have the resiliency of youth," Peter said with a puckish grin.

A few minutes later they were seated, their order placed.

"So how is Kravinoff this morning?" Connors asked. "Did he survive?"

"He's tough, you have to give him that," Peter said. "He killed the vampires and hung in there until I could get him to my place and bandage him up. When I woke up this morning he had let himself out. Too bad. I guess he's not much one for goodbyes."

"Me either," Connors said. He shrugged. "Who is?"

"Thanks for having lunch with me," Peter said. "I like goodbyes. Take care of yourself in Florida."

"Peter," Connors said, "I never felt more helpless than I did the time you saved me from… from my transformation. Since then I have taken great pains to never let the genie out of the bottle, so to speak. I have to thank you for saving me when the lizard manifested last spring. And," he added as he carefully adjusted his silverware, "I have to thank you for forcing me to unleash it and control it. For the first time," he said, raising his eyes to Peter, "I'm not afraid. I have mastered it. While it's true I won't unleash the lizard intentionally unless it's that or death," he said, looking down at the table again, "now I know I'm strong enough. Stronger than I realized."

"In a way, that makes us even," Peter said. "Maybe more than you know." He smiled briefly.

"To man over monster," Connors said, raising his glass.

"I'll drink to that," said Peter.

They did.

5