Come Into My Parlor Lady Spider

AU. Fem! Peter Parker. Patricia needs to get an interview with Sergei Kravinoff - Kraven The Hunter - to make up for not getting shots of Harry with Mr. Fisk. Kraven is happy to oblige. A hunter enjoys new game. However, this 'friendly interview' quickly turns steamy as the wild man seems to develop an 'interest' in his new prey. Her scent. It brings out the animal in him.

xxx

The Lion's Den of Trophies

This is my first Spiderman fic. Based on The Amazing Spiderman game. And my first genderbent fic. I've been playing with this idea. If you like, read it. If you don't, there's thousands of other fic out there. Go find them.

xxx

Man I really goofed! Here I was front and center at Harry's press conference with Mr. Fisk...AND I NEVER SNAPPED ONE PHOTO! I didn't even get out my phone and consider videotaping the moron next to them clapping. You know the one. The guy that wears a fake smile, claps his hands, while inside he wants to shoot someone. Yeah. That guy. UGH! Jonah already gave me an ear full about it. I'm surprised he didn't fire and rehire me like he always does. I'd better watch my step. He might actually mean it one of these times.

Being a part time superhero and part time Jonah Jameson Gopher can be pretty exhausting. My poor Aunt May. When I come home and her Little Riicha (Ree-Sha) looks worn out. She's almost added hospital bills to the list because of the bruises I sustain. What can I do? I can't expect bad guys to not punch me back. Or shoot me when my back is turned. I couldn't bear the thought knowing I've left her alone because I made a careless step. She and I are all we have left. As such, I need to be the one taking care of her. And there's a way I know how to make that happen. I just need to get special permission first.

"Interview Sergei Kravinoff?! The wildman?" Jameson hollered derisively.

"It would be a great story, Mr. Jameson!" I implored him, running fingers through my short black hair. Loose, untidily combed strands tucked behind my ear. "Think of it as, "Wildman V. Spiderwoman. Multiplying menaces!" I had to throw menace in there. He'd never go for it if he thought I was a fan of this guy. Even though I only met him a couple of hours ago. Through my stylish, rectangular glasses, I watched a video of the wildman in question subduing a Siberian Tiger. As a lover of older men, this guy had my attention.

"I don't doubt it will. IF an EXPERIENCED REPORTER," Neither of which I am, "Were to do the interview. And Ms. Chang is already covering the Carnage Killer!"

"Whitney's good, Mr. Jameson. I have no question about it." I shuffled anxiously in my computer chair. My pajamas were wrinkling askew with each movement. What? Middle of the day? Sure. When I get home for a long morning of superhero work, I like to chill in my PJ's. "But I also have no question that I can get inside Mr. Karvinoff's head. Make him confide in me, pour his heart out to me." Laying it on thick was my repartee. Just as it is massaging the egos of narcissists like Jameson. "If we wait for Whitney to finish, we may never know if Mr. Kravinoff is a menace or a help. Heck, he may even be the Carnage Killer living amongst us."

Jameson was humming considerately on the other end. I could hear that nerveracking pencil being nibbled on. My nail became my teeth's victim. He needed to answer swiftly. I was about to chew right to the skin. "Okay. You've got a deal."

"COME ON, MR. JAMESON! I CAN-Wait! What?" I halted my protest. I was set on his saying no that I missed what he said. "I can do it?" I lit up.

"On the condition you get me photos and a story I can use." He stressed. Unbeknownst to him, I was jumping up and down, and crawling over the ceiling with uncontainable joy. "You bring me anything less than newsworthy, you're confined to the mailroom until Christmas of 2020. Am I clear?"

"AS SHINY, BLUE, CRYSTAL! THANK YOU, MR. JAMESON!" I hope I didn't scream his ear off. But I was just so excited. My first test as a reporter. Who knows? Maybe i'll make it as one and pay the bills on time. Hanging up with Jameson, I rifled through the pockets of my worn baggy pants and found the number Kraven left Spiderwoman earlier. The guy's famous enough. It shouldn't be too suspicious if I call him...right?

"Hello?" A gravelly, baritone Russian man answered. Chill scaled my spine.

"He-hello. Mr...Kravinoff?"

"Indeed. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" He replied with a teasing tone, silently laughing at my shaking voice.

I swallowed my nerves and excitement and controlled myself. "My name is Patricia Parker. I'm a reporter for the Daily Bugle."

"Ah yes. The Bugle." He sounded very familiar with us. Made me wonder if Whitney caught him in a secret facility and blackmailed him to take photos for her."A fine piece of tell all tales. I am a great admirer of the lengths you reporters go through to expose the truth, and weed out the ugliness beneath this city."

"Th-thank you. We try." I really needed to get a grip. I sounded like a nervous moron at a spelling bee.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"I was hoping I could do a story on you for an article I'm writing. Lord of the Concrete Jungle." Wow. That was really the best I could come up with?

"Catchy. Rolls off the tongue."

"Thanks. Anyway, word of your arrival has raised many questions and concerns amongst the people." I left out where he may be misconstrued for the Carnage Killer. The way he caught that man dealing with the Russians in the park, it wasn't too farfetched. "You do strike me as someone above public opinion, but I was hoping you wouldn't mind swaying mine. I need a little objectivity in my story."

"Forgive the assumption, My Dear, but are you a 'cub' when it comes to reporting?"

My body went rigid. "How...could you tell?"

"Veteran reporters are aggressive, persistent - leave no room for declining. Force the subject of their story to submit, regardless of personal feelings. You, Miss Parker," He purred my name, making my skin crawl,"You are persistent. I can tell if I told you no you would call back and ask again. But you lack the aggressiveness. The...how you say...iron grip to convince me to share my time." My confidence in my own idea was dwindling fast. Grah. I do sound like a wimp when I'm talking to him. By watching him on the video, he was a serious, no nonsense man. I'm a...college student with a degree in missing classes. "If there is nothing else, Miss Parker-"

"Mr. Kravinoff, I must apologize." I cut him off. I took a breath and continued, "This story I am writing is not just for my sake, but for the sake of all those who can't walk out the front door without some nutjob with a special M.O lurking behind them!" I was shaking, but man am I pumped up. "The Carnage Killer, Spiderwoman, Wilson Fisk, and now you - millions of people living in this have yet to recover from the Cross-Species outbreak. The last thing they need is someone who can wrestle a gator and walk away with nary a hair out of place." Did I sound rude? Did I sound aggressive? I hope I sounded like something, because I'm out of clever word twists.

Kraven caught me off guard when he laughed. That just pissed me off. Here I am pouring my heart and soul out, and he's laughing! He laughed at me during that mess at the bus station too. He'd better have a good reason. I may be 100 pounds lighter, but I'll send his ass flying back to Russian with a busted jaw.

"You have captured my interest, Miss Parker!" He announced boisterously, quieting his laughter. "And I apologize for insulting you. I merely wished to draw out the lioness you kept bundled up." So he was playing me. "This number on my phone, it is to your mobile device?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I will send you my address. Can I expect you...today, possibly?" He lived in the same city I did, right? Well, same state, really. He does know it's raining outside. Another test, perhaps?

"It is...6:13." I checked the clock on my watch. "Depending on where you live, will seven or eight be alright?"

"Either is fine. In between even." He was pleased I chose today. He might want to see if a girl will brave a rainstorm. Puh. I'm no ordinary girl from Queens. "I look forward to meeting you, Devushka. Till we meet." He hung up.

"Devushka?" I quirked a brow. What exactly does that mean? Oh well. I didn't need to wait until he texted me. He gave me his card before we parted ways. Going as Spiderwoman will get me there in no time. But I needed the proper clothes to look the part.

I rinsed my sweaty body in the shower, blow dried my hair - it fell neatly back into place, then rushed to my room to find the shnaziest outfit I had. My greenish grey bolero jacket hadn't been worn in a while. It would look good with this black beret I have. Let's see...shirt, shirts, shirt. My grey V-Neck with that cute ring in the chest looks good. My turquoise scarf will not only look good, but will also keep me warm. Oh! My black skirt! Ripply, flowy - that's good. Some black tights, and my knee high brown boots. My glasses helped add a little sophistication. I put on chapstick to add some life to those chapped skins. A couple of turtle shaped earrings with opal jewels didn't hurt either.

Enough accessorizing. It was 6:30 and I needed my stuff together. Camera - check. Recorder - check. Notepad in case recorder misses something - check. Spiderwoman costume - double check. And my laptop so I can compile everything I collect at my favorite coffee bistro. What? I do my best thinking with coffee in my hand. Oh yeah, I can't forget my pass. Kraven might think I hoodwinked him without that. By the website I found, he has raging fangirls. Probably drawn to the muscles.

"Aunt May! I'm heading out!" I shouted, making a mad dash for the door.

"So late?" She gasped.

"Mr. Jameson needs a story by morning!" I stuffed two of her delicious chocolate chip muffins in my mouth. "I need to meet a guy. Has info about the Carnage killer." I must have been talking at a mile a minute. I slung my computer bag over my shoulder, gave Aunt May a kiss, and was on my way out the door. "I'll call you when I get there!" I shouted, closing the door.

Aunt May opened the door as I was running down the street. "PICK UP SOME BREAD ON YOUR WAY HOME!"

"I WILL!" I ran backwards, waving at her. "LOVE YOU!"

"Love you too." She whispered, touching her aching heart.

xxx

Aunt May. I'm sure she worries sick every time I walk out that door. I hate doing it to her. But I need the money. Not saying money is more important than her. Nothing is. Losing Uncle Ben last years made us both worry the next time one of us walks out that door, we won't come back. I need Aunt May to know, should that happen - god forbid - she won't have to worry about me. And I won't have to worry about her.

Web swinging across town always seemed to lift my spirits. Cleared my head before meeting the Jungle Man. The city flying below me. The fresh air rushing past me. Manhattan was beautiful from so high up. Hn. Reminds me of when Curt saw it from this height for the first time. The look on his face was warming. Were it he wasn't ridden by guilt the lizard's rampage caused, I'd have enjoyed the moment with him.

Landing on the roof of Kraven's loft, I pulled one of my magic, blink of the eye changes. The clothes looked as good as when I pulled them out. I put on extra deodorant, and some body spray. I still sweat, you know. "Confidence, stride, and look him in the eye. Smack him with a newspaper if he's bad." I psyched myself up. The rolling thunder worried me. Water droplets had me running to the ledge. I scaled my way to his doorstep, surprised to find the door open. The lightning and thunder coaxed me inside.

I felt rude just barging in. The rain almost immediately started falling when I went inside. Hard to believe one guy owned the building. Or did he just own the loft up the elevator? I'll figure it out. I rode the elevator to the top floor. With each ding passing a floor my heart skipped a beat. This might as well be my only chance to prove my worth to Mr. Jameson. I'm worried I'll blow it. I'm mostly worried Kraven will stuff and mount me if he finds out I'm just a photographer and not a reporter. He doesn't seem like the guy you lie to.

The elevator let me off at a dramatically dark corridor. I half expected the hallway to start extending ridiculously long when I walked in. The flashing lightning outside the drenched windows eerily lit the stone paved corridor. The hanging lamps mostly a decor than a light source. I swear if a pale girl with black hair making a loud grunt noise appears, I'm running so fast I'll leave flaming streaks in the floor. It felt like I had walked into a horror movie. My legs certainly thought so. They backed me into the closed elevator doors.

"No way." I took a deep breath, exhaling through my nose. I calmed down, found my courage, and continued to enter. My knees were knocking though. I hope it's not noticeable. "Mr. Kravinoff?!" The narrow corridor reverberated my voice. "It's me, Patricia Parker, from the Daily Bugle…" I trailed off, seeking a response. It was 7: 23. He should be here. I feel stupid for being a little late. "We spoke on the phone?" I tried again. You laughed at me for sounding childish, I made sure to mumble. "The door was open...so…Mr. Kravinoff?"

I poked my head inside a huge room, carefully tiptoeing in case I was disturbing him. Again, I crossed the threshold into a new world I wasn't sure existed in Manhattan. The decor astounded me. If my eyes went any wider they'd fall out. My jaw might break off too. The loft was definitely the lair of a seasoned hunter. A veteran safari man with trophies, decorations, and a collection of knick knacks to stroke his ego. I keep extra photos of smug bad guys I pummel as my ego stroking trophies. They're fun to laugh at. But, boy, did I feel like a kid at an amusement park. Mr. Kravinoff had the best looking place. Dark, sure. In desperate need of brighter lighting than dim lamps. But the pelts, skulls, and preserved husks he had. The nature centers I visited as a kid would weep if they saw this place.

A T-Rex skull on a pole captured my eye. It was so real. So life like. The teeth. So sharp. My legs were moving on their own again. I kept twisting and turning like a kid ready to dip into the cookie jar. The closer to the skull I got, the more the aged and decayed cracks from preservation stood out. The teeth were a gnarly brown. They needed a brushing. The cracks and impressions - years of fighting on this guy's part. The teeth, though. The teeth...my hand reached out. The finger tips inches from touching.

"Good evening." A tiger roared behind me.

"AH!" I stumbled and fell on my butt.

Kraven stood at the window overlooking the rain soaked city, laughing menacingly at my reaction. He was dressed like a hunting commando. "Oh, I apologize for startling you, Devushka." He quelled his laughter, walking over to me. He makes me jump out of my skin, and he's laughing. What a character. I wonder if her made the tiger jump out of its skin before he draped on a couch. "I am Kraven." He announced, extending a hand. "You must be Patricia."

"Y-yes…" I grudgingly took his hand, hoisted to my feet. His hands were huge compared to mine. He was a hairy guy too. Every inch of him was covered in it. The vest he wore exposed his bare chest. Nice abs. His pecks seemed firm. And those muscles. Oh man! I'm staring! I fixed myself up, mostly dusting my fluster off. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kravinoff."

"Like wise, Miss Parker." He purred my name, kissing the top of my hand. Heat rose to my cheeks. I hope the room is dark enough to hide it. "Please, allow me." He offered to take my bag and hat, setting them beside the couch. I kept my phone on me, having the recorder running inside my jacket pocket. "I hope you can forgive my theatrics." He laughed behind his words. "I merely wished to demonstrate my skills."

Yeah, you'd be a thrill at Halloween Festivals. I thought angrily, hiding how impressed I truly am. He demonstrated his skills at the bus station. My spider sense missed him for the second time today. "The videos online do that pretty well." I surreptitiously wiped my hand on my tights. "I saw you take down that Siberian Tiger with your bare hands...without killing it." That's what truly impressed me.

"Tigers are endangered." He educated her on his reasoning. "I simply relocated the beast for its own safety as well as that of the local villagers." An inhumanly strong man with a heart of gold. Sounds familiar. "True hunters wish to conserve the natural world. It is where we find peace."

"You're a bit far from the natural world." The only natural thing in Manhattan is Central Park and the fungus growing in the Hudson River. "As for peace...why would you come to one of the rowdiest places in America?" Vegas aside.

"I craved a new challenge. Came here to hunt the monsters Oscorp created..." He trailed his elucidation, leaning to the table hosting the full scale New York model. "The...cross-species. The deadliest combination of ANIMAL and HUMAN." Natures prehistoric to modern rivals. "I ended their threat swiftly, and without mercy. Though, I missed one. The Lizard known as Curt Connors." My neck clenched. Thank goodness I helped get Connors back in the asylum. Something tells me this guy would have turned him into a cheap handbag for some rich lady carrying a poodle. "

"And New York, myself included, thank you for that." I'm sincere when I say that. The vermin cross-species cause an epidemic that made the plague seem like a nasty head cold. Heck, they could have made a Quarantine four through six with what happened. "So why the choice to stick around? Wouldn't Maine or Jersey be a little more in you nature wheelhouse?"

"I grew fond of your city, and your city grew fond of me. So I decided to stay."

"Except now you're hunting normal people." Why else would he tie up a Russian Thug in broad daylight.

"NO! Only criminals." He stopped me and my biassed opinions in their tracks. "Only those who prey on their fellow man have anything to fear from me." He grit his teeth, emphasizing his contempt for criminals. "Do you prey on your fellow man, Miss Parker?"

"Of course not!" As an in the closet hero, I'm genuinely insulted. The only ones I prey on are the idiots who light cars on fire, rob from old ladies, and leave bombs everywhere.

"Then you have nothing to fear." He reached out and pinched my chin. Tilting my head up, he gazed deep into my eyes. I was mesmerize by his animal pools. "Though I do not doubt there is danger behind this pretty face." He teased me.

I cleared my throat, backing out of his hold. He huckled at the pink flush in my cheeks. Either I get this interview moving, or I'll be here all night with nothing but to show for it but Russian Opera stuck in my head.

"This new task force is sending a pretty strong message. No Vigilantes."

Kraven caught on I wished to change the subject, and willfully went along with it. Although I seemed to rub sour chord. "I do not trust them." He got that clear and out in the open. "They are paid for by FISK." Wilson Fisk. The man widely known - yet to be proved - as crooked as he is huge. Throwing money in one direction, while funding shady characters in the other. "I am sure you've heard the rumors of his illegal activities." He used illegal loosely for good reason.

"Sure. Everyone has." I shrugged. Illegal with beneficiary mounds of money is the new legal in town. "But nobody can prove it. And the police seem okay with him." Which puts me in a spot, because I have nothing but respect for the police.

"Because he has paid those who are corrupt!" He stated strongly. He gestured to the New York model, as if saying the entire city is bred on corruption. "And the rest are desperate to avoid looking incompetent, while the public is desperate for an end to the crime wave." A double edge sword. Expose the corruption and the people lose the one thing that shows hope of dampening crime. But let it continue, and the people will be exposed to an all new level of criminal. Ones in tacky, million dollar suits that seem untouchable. "I have only one agenda: to get results."

"I'm all for that. Truly, you have my support." Kraven nodded thankfully, but sensed the but of the conversation encroaching. "But based on my experience - uh! Research...the police aren't too big of fans of vigilantes. They're literally split down the middle on opinions of Spiderwoman."

"The police had their chance to stop the crime wave. They failed miserably." He glowered disappointed at his model. The model depicted areas where crime has forever blemished, and cannot be healed. "Spiderwoman merely fills the gaps, and compensates for their weakness." When he says it like that, I kinda wanna punch myself in the face. "While she exudes in experience, the results she yields are...adequate." He wobbled a hand, demonstrating I'm on the brink. "To say there is room for improvement, is like telling a writer they need to edit their work. Obvious, and yet commonly neglected." Now if I weren't a lady with a secret I'd punch him to Rhode Island.

" I...uh...don't think they like being reminded of that."

"I do not wish to insult them. Or Spiderwoman." He seemed to bow at me. Could he tell I was offended? "Spiderwoman's only crime is using gifts bestowed to her. She and I - to have the powers to help, but refuse to act, would be a far greater crime. Would you not agree?" He quizzed me.

"Yeah..." His words touched me. I've mulled a similar theory over and over in my head plenty of times. Hearing someone else who agrees lifted my spirits. "As a matter of fact...I would."

"As a reporter, you too have a power. On that brings a sort of peace of mind."

"How do you mean?"

"You can unravel mysteries, bring dark secrets to light. By the end of the day you make enemies, but you will have made your fellow man glad." He praisingly bumped fuzzy knuckles to my shoulder. "Someone willing to expose the dangers, in spite of her own well being, is making streets a better place for future generations." He made me blush again. He was overestimating me, by far. I'm not...well...I'm not yet. "Forgive me. Have I embarrassed you?"

"No! NO! Just...thank you." I fiddled with my hands. My face was beet red. Move on, Patricia! Move on! "Uh-uh-AHEM!" I clapped my cheeks, getting back in the game. "Is man really the most dangerous game?" I use air quotes because I find human beings can be pathetic without central air or a wifi signal. Or a fridge packed with food.

"In their own way, yes. But men are merely highly evolved animals." That's true. We are lumped with apes and other mammals. "The current crime wave provides fascinating opportunities to study them. The patterns of the various factions."

Careful, Kraven. You're starting to drool. "And what are you finding out?" Spiderwoman needs to hear this.

""That criminals are not unlike beasts. They have hunting grounds, specific behaviors. Many travel in packs." Wow. Thugs were sounding more like wolves than actual people. "But there are differences."

"Such as...?"

"Animals prey on others for survival. Only human beings are willfully cruel." There's truth in that. The guy that killed my Uncle Ben is as cruel as they come. Alistaire Smythe? Cruel by madness.

Well, I had all I needed. Time to wrap this up, write it, and report to Jameson. "So you're saying...you feel a responsibility to use your powers to help."

"Yes." He answered confidently. "To have such power, and not use it, is to be unworthy of it." He pressed a finger to my chest. "Do not let your power go to waste. Underdeveloped now, it will become a force when you're older."

"Th-thank you...um..." I'm getting dizzy being sweet talked by this guy. "I...think our readers will find all this very interesting." I chirped, backing away from him. I certainly found it interesting.

"Good, good." His cell phone rang. I felt saved by the bell. "I must take this call. But, please, look around. Take pictures of anything you wish." He strolled by me, putting the phone to his ear. I must admit it surprised me he even knew how to use a phone. "Yes? ... No, I said TRANQUILIZER DARTS!" He roared. I arched a brow. Wonder what he needs those for. "NO! I have interest in automatic weapons! They require no skill! I am an ARTIST!" He wagged a finger in the air, disappearing through a door.

And boy you don't anger an artist. Especially one who takes on lions, tigers, and bears. Anyone says "oh my" and this is over. Welp, Kraven gave me permission. Guess I could snap a photo or two. Do I have enough film to capture this whole loft? Doubtful. Maybe I can narrow down cool, chic, and exotic to a few things in here.

Hmm. That elephant skull by the model looks interesting. Elephant? Sure that's not a mammoth? And that tiger head - awesome! The deer antlers were cool too. I aimed my camera, cleaned up the focus, and I had a nice piece of work on my reel. If I were a little taller I be tempted to touch them.

Next, next, next...Ooh. A portrait of Kraven himself. It was hung above a mantel in a cozy fireplace area. I'm not a drinker, but the bottles of bourbon he had on the shelf were starting to look appealing. Before I became too enthralled, and remember I'm still a year or two shy of the legal drinking age, I capture a photo of the photo. He looked the same, but maybe a decade or two younger. Not a bad looking guy. Works the hairy chest. And...his accent doesn't hurt either.

NO! NO! MOVE ON! One more shot before I go! Come on, come on...That T-Rex head. I wonder where he went to get that. It was so life like - probably was - that I could see the beast thirsting for my flesh. I took two photos of it. One for Jameson, and one for me.

These were good. Maybe if I work fast i can compile a newsworthy story by...it's already half past eight...midnight. Two in the morning at the latest. "Pardon the interruption." I darted around. Kraven sounded like he was behind me. Taking a few steps back, he was watching from the second floor. How did I miss that? "Would you care to see my latest trophies?" Something told me declining wasn't an option.

There was a flight of stairs just past the preserved striking, monster snake display. Did this guy carbon freeze his catches or what? Running up the stairs, I was brought to a type of second floor study. A white tiger skin was laid out like a carpet. The piano next to it...so glossy and beautiful. A man of the arts he is.

"Are you impressed?" Kraven appeared behind me.

"Impressed is too gentle. You have amazing acquisitions." Living up to his claim of being an artist. "The places I've been to...they look more like robbed garage sales. No one's ever come close to this aesthetic."

Kraven threw his head back, laughing aloud. "Now it is you who are embarrassing me. But thank you, Devushka. You are too kind. Please..." He put a hand to my back, escorting me to the next room. "I have a feeling you will...find these of a particular interest." That whir in his tone - he expected me to know what he had hiding in there. I was getting scared all over again. The look in his eye...it was darker. What's in that room?

Kraven guided me along. As I crossed the threshold to a small hallway I squeezed my eyes closed, tensing up. He put both hands to my shoulders, centering me. I could feel I entered a wider room. But I was too scared to look. Nevertheless, I opened my eyes.

My blood turned to ice. My heart skipped several beats. Standing there, right before my eyes, frozen in time to accentuate their bloodthirsty nature - The Cross-species' that plagued New York all of a year ago. Thank goodness Curt reverted to his old self. Otherwise...Kraven - no! No I...I won't think about that. Curt's fine! He's back at the asylum like he wanted. He's cured.

"Beautiful…" Fuzzy lips purred in my ear. A firm chest at my back rooted me in place. "Are they not?" He put one hand to my shoulder, while the other ran down my arm. His fingers interlaced with mine. My heart was pounding. Kraven could feel it from my back. "Are they not, Devushka?" Hot breath tickled my ear. I cringed in his arms, shaking uncontrollably as I tried not to cry out or run. "I did, however, miss a couple. The Rhino - drowned in the Hudson. And...the Lizard." I must have reacted, because he was putting on the pressure. I did a little research as well. Curt Connors," Curt's name dropped my heart into my stomach. He knows Connors is the lizard, "He is a close friend to you. Someone you value - also a cross species himself."

"He's…" I swallowed a dry lump. Kraven's hungry gaze was prying a confession out of me. My legs were losing strength with how close he is. "He's not like these ones...he's not." I'm losing my voice. A stupid squeak as he inhaled my hair. Why is he sniffing my hair? And what is he muttering under his breath? I can't...Russian? "He-he's better! Cured!"

"Oh is he?" He purposefully lowered his voice so he would have to be closer to my tingling ear. "Then why is he in an asylum?" My heart...it's pounding. I can't breathe. It's really hot in here. Kraven's baritone chuckle reverberated my back. "Well?"

"He feels safer!" I blurted shrilly, finally finding my voice. "He...he wanted to go back! Afraid the lizard-"

"The lizard?" He hummed. I froze with dread. Ice encased my spine to my toes. Oh god what did I just say? "If the man you admire is cured," Kraven snaked his free hand under my arm, cupping my chin, "Then why would he fear the monster?" His fingers ran over my lips. His laughing vibrated his throat on my neck. I was falling apart. This weight pressing down on my shoulders, and I don't mean those iron triceps and biceps. It was crushing me. Connors...this madman was going to hurt Connors! Why...why else would he ask about him?

"Stop...please..." I put my hands to his. They wouldn't budge. My spider strength left me. I couldn't break away. "Curt isn't...he's not!" I whimpered.

"The way these soft lips protect a monster of a man." He cooed teasingly. That thick finger tenderly caressed her lips, prodding under the lower lip. "Who, exactly, is Curt Connors to you, Miss Parker? Why protect him?" He snaked his other hand around and grasped my waist, lightly rubbing up and down. It...it feels...no! No, don't think like that! Not now! He's crazy! "Is it possible...you are drawn to him? A kindred spirit to make sense of an unforgiving world?" What does that mean? Does he know who I am? No! He couldn't. He's digging. For what? "What a shame? It would appear a beast has claimed its beauty. Will he...hunt me down if I consumed you?" He licked my outer ear, sending me into an enraged spiral.

He's not getting to Connors through me! I stomped on his foot, bashed my head in his nose, then wrenched myself free of him. "I think this interview is over!" I roared, running from the man holding his bleeding nose. He was astounded by my swift movements. He should be. Better than him can't keep me pinned. Not that I know anyone better than this tiger skin loon.

Forget the stairs! Forget if he sees! I sprang over the railing to the first floor, rolling on the landing. Kraven was at the bars, just...watching me. My legs flew into overdrive. I grabbed my things, knocked a couple buildings over on the model, and was out that door before another thought formed in my head.

I could hear him. Kraven. He was...laughing. Laughing at me! Stupid elevator! I pressed the first floor button in a craze. Hurry up! HURRY THE HELL UP! That ding was church bells. I burst out, practically broke the front door. A few people jerked out of the way when I jumped down the stairs. I just ran. I ran as fast as I could. He was still watching me. From that window! I know he is! The taste of my ear in his...! And his tongue it...! Run, run, run!

To be continued

If you like it, I'll keep going. You don't? Well, I'll finish it anyway.

Later.