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Forsake Your Vows update
🕑 Added 2022-11-24 02:00:05 +0000 UTCThe white work van with painters’ ladders racked on top nestled in traffic like any other car. Inside, ‘Fast’ Dick Russell was laying out the plan to steal more money than anyone else on the four-lane blacktop had ever seen.
His long-time compatriots, Ballinger Joe and Rick Slocum, already knew the play. With the fourth member of their gang laid up after being gutshot cleaning his gun, Russell had picked up two hands from out of town, drifters who were former military. They hadn’t given their names; just went by Red and Blue. But they’d been vouched for by the neighborhood made man.
When they arrived at their destination, they would file out to shock and awe inside. Red and Blue would control the customers while Russell, Joe, and Slocum raided the bank tellers. They would be in and out in minutes, leaving with tens of thousands of dollars in cash, if not more. And if anyone got in their way, they had M-16s that had fallen off the back of a military truck.
Then, as they waited in traffic, the rear doors ripped open. Mary Jane’s costumed figure appeared where the reassuring wall hiding them from sight had been. Her fist hit Slocum between the shoulder blades with the force of a cinder block being dropped. The impact propelled him into Red and Joe. All three men tumbled to the floor of the fans, dropping their weapons.
A well-placed kick knocked the M-16 from Russell’s hands.
Blue drew a pistol from his shoulder harness, but a whirling backfist from Mary Jane ripped the weapon from his fingers.
The two men reached for other weapons, Blue for a boot knife, Russell for a set of knuckle dusters in his pocket. Mary Jane plunged forward, throwing out both arms. Her fists hammered into their chests and threw them through the air to ram into the driver and passenger’s seats. Knocking the wheelman’s head down so he pumped the car horn.
Joe came up reaching for Mary Jane’s exposed hair. She caught his arm and pivoted to fling him out of the van’s gaping rear entryway.
Red dashed at Mary Jane, throwing a high kick at her head. Mary Jane caught it in the face, was spun around by it, then Red threw another kick for her belly. MJ chopped her hand across her enemy’s ankle, cracking bone. He cried out in pain. She stepped into his personal space and hooked her right fist into his kidney, then followed through with a ferocious left that knocked him cold.
Slocum drew a snubnosed .38 from his ankle holster. He didn’t want to kill a woman, so instead of firing, he clubbed the gun at Mary Jane’s head. She ducked under it and swung a forearm into his armpit. Slocum’s fist popped open and let out the .38. He staggered back, cradling his numbed arm to his body.
Joe surged back into the van, scooping up a fallen M-16 from the floor. Mary Jane’s hands streaked out before he could aim. She grabbed his wrist, pulling him off-balance, then thrust his forearm down across her bent knee. Joe screamed as his radius and ulna bones snapped. He fell to all fours, screaming louder when he caught himself on the outstretched hand of his broken arm.
“You’ll wake the baby,” Mary Jane quipped as she dropped a fist into the nape of Joe’s neck and sent him down unconscious.
Blue threw a roundhouse kick at Mary Jane’s face. She slammed her hands into his calf, blocking the kick, then lashed out with her ankle to his kneecap. The bone shattered. Blue screamed as his weight slipped off his feet; Mary Jane knocked him out on the way down.
Russell lunged at Mary Jane like a football player going for a tackle. Mary Jane erupted with a hard uppercut up under his jaw. His head bounced off the van’s dome light and Mary Jane decked him with a left hook. He was done.
Slocum swung a right cross at Mary Jane’s jaw. She rolled with the punch, her head barely moving but letting the force out of the blow like water off a duck’s back. Her return shot knocked Slocum between the front seats and into the windshield. And next to him, on the dashboard, was the pistol Blue had lost. He reached for it.
Eddie Brock punched through the windshield from the other side and grabbed Slocum’s wrist. The man was trapped as surely as a mouse that had gone for the cheese. Mary Jane lanced out with a kick that hit under his chin and rendered him unconscious. The wheelman, having realized the better part of valor, had long since fled—though Eddie hadn’t let him get far.
“I could’ve handled it,” Mary Jane said, moving to pull up her mask so she could talk to him, then restraining the motion. If any of the robbers were clinging to consciousness, they couldn’t see Mary-Jane Watson-Parker was their attacker, and she didn’t want to put them into comas just to be sure.
“You’re not supposed to be exerting yourself, remember?”
“You’re starting to sound like Peter, the way you mother me.”
“Yeah, well… it’s an easy trap to fall into.”
It was then that Mary Jane noticed Eddie’s ring finger jutting out at a gross angle from its normal course. “Eddie! Your hand! Your finger! It’s broken!”
Eddie hid it from view. “Yeah. Happened while we were sparring. Didn’t want to interrupt your training.”
“We’ve gotta get you to a doctor!”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I can’t believe I broke your finger!”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m a horrible person!”
“It’s cool.”
Mary Jane took a deep breath. “We really need to go to the ER.”
“They’ll just make me wait however many hours before they set it and stick me with a bill. You don’t have time to wait around all day. You’ve got your husband, your kid, your job…”
“So you’re just going to leave it like that until you have some free time?”
Eddie shrugged. “Actually…”
Wrapping the fingers of his other hand around the bent finger, he jerked it back into place. The symbiote flowed from his shirtsleeve, quickly cocooning the wounded hand like a living cast.
“There. My better half says it’s just gotta heal now.” Eddie cocked his head. He heard sirens. Police were on their way and when they found the downed goons with their guns, most likely they’d be sent away on weapons charges and parole violations. “Come on.”
They took to the rooftops, leaving the crime scene blocks away before stopping. Eddie favored his hand, only web-swinging with his good one. The moment they landed for good, Mary Jane went over to him.
“Let me see.”
“It’ll gross you out.”
“Eddie, I mean it.”
Eddie pulled back the symbiote from the break. His finger actually looked better. Pale and clearly tender to the touch, but Mary Jane could see it was healing as rapidly as Peter did when he took an injury.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe I did that to you. I’ve never done that to Peter and we practiced a lot…”
“Maybe you two weren’t practicing hard enough. Can’t know what it’s really like on the street if you’re afraid to get hit or give a hit.”
“You’re not the one who needs to learn how to take a hit. You’re doing all this for my benefit and all I give you is a broken bone.”
“You want to give me something else?”
It felt like a come-on. Mary Jane had heard enough of them to know the flirtatious tone, even in Eddie’s rough voice. But her guilt at having injured him had its say. “What did you have in mind?”
“How about you model for me? I am a photographer…”
“Oh no, people get in trouble just having naked photos on their phones. I’m not having some lying around between your couch cushions.”
“Who said anything about them being naked? Not that you sound too peeved at the idea.” Eddie grinned jaggedly. “Okay then, no cameras.” He tapped the side of his head. “I’ll take all my pictures up here.”
“So you just want to see me naked? Should I shimmy around a pole too?”
“Nah, let’s save that for when you really hurt me. Put out an eye or something.”
Mary Jane chuckled with him. She couldn’t believe he’d suggested this. And after he’d kissed her, after things were finally getting back to normal from there… it was insane!
But she had asked him what she could do to make up for his broken finger. What else was she supposed to do—bake him a pie? And really, if he were just looking at her, then that wasn’t much different than filming a nude scene or being photographed naked. It was better, actually. No giant demographic of people out in the fifty states with an keen awareness of her unclothed body. No chance of her friends or family stumbling on images of her bare body if they only existed up in Eddie’s head.
But she and Peter had always agreed she shouldn’t do those kinds of photoshoots, those kinds of scenes. Although it was more that Peter had agreed and she’d wanted to spare his feelings. She, personally, had no misgivings about appearing nude. And Peter hadn’t been keeping up his end of the marriage; why should she continue minding each and every one of his comfort zones while her needs went neglected?
“Alright, Eddie,” she declared at last. “I’ll give you a look. But no touching. I mean it. And if I find out you had some hidden camera somewhere…”
“Hey, come on now,” Eddie growled defensively. “If you really think I’m capable of something like that, let’s not do it at all.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying… and you can’t do… what happened last time. Don’t violate my trust.”
“I won’t let you down,” Eddie promised with a sweet gleam in his eye.
