Peter listened intently to Siobhan’s story, his attention was solely on her though his posture remained the same. Again he looked at her as if trying to ascertain she was telling the truth from her choice of words, body language and other cues people gave. Her story started out in the realm of the ordinary with her past being nothing truly noteworthy. They both had this in common but when she spoke of her friends he knew this was going to take a turn even if she did not mention the mob beforehand. Of course he had his guesses as to what it was and while he was not completely off the mark it was still a surprise to him.

The more she talked the more she gave away and not just with her words. Needless to say there was something odd about the lady but when this story ended with her death that jumped straight from odd to bizarre. Was any of this true? Either she was an excellent actress and by her own admission she was or he had found himself in another case involving the extraordinary. Even so the journalist in him had to be certain and that meant he needed to ask questions.

“That is… Well saying it's quite the tale is an understatement, Siobhan” he said, with a touch of sympathy though he felt if he tried to convey that further it would do more harm than good. After all, she was not looking for someone to coddle her and it was not as if he was the best person to do so either. “I do have some questions for you and a request. First question, what is the date when this happened, two what happened to the remains of your friends if they died like you did? Were they recovered? Last question for now, how do you think I can help? The request, can you and I’m asking this to be thorough and not to be disrespectful. I need you to prove that you are in fact dead.”

She gave the date, it was nearly three months ago on a Monday evening. A dark night for theatre. "They were buried by their families, of course. It was a drive by, we were all just left for dead. I woke up before the authorities arrived and got out as quickly as I could. A dress filled with bullets would have been questioned. As for you, well, I saw your response when the mob was mentioned. And when Osborn was as well. You have a great deal invested in the mob, or should I say the downfall of the mob. Or have I misread? In acting we learn to read people as well. And, frankly, I need more connections with some knowledge in order to find out who called for the hit so I can...well let's just say I need to take care of things. As for my state," she offered her wrist, "pulses don't lie." Her heart did not beat, just as air was only used to vibrate her vocal cords. And this alcohol seemed only to affect her in as much as she wanted it to. Or maybe it was more metaphysical than that, she didn't know. She could eat and drink but she never seemed to rid herself of it. Maybe it was just absorbed as fuel or maybe something she couldn't even begin to understand was happening inside her.

Peter made mental notes for the date of Siobhan’s supposed death and also check the obituaries for her two friends. It was likely an article was written about the shooting but with how much crime there was in the city it was also likely to not have been a main article. Her observations about him were met with a shrug of his shoulders along with a small bit of a smirk because there was a story there. Not as thrilling as hers of course but one he might need to tell if he decided to help her.

“Every journalist is invested in the mob but to what extent depends on the person. Some want the truth, others steer clear out of it from being afraid of retaliation. My own, well I’m concerned with the truth but Osborn was also personal.” He glanced down at his own drink which still remained untouched and continued to be as he continued. His eyes traveled to her wrist which he took and he noticed she felt cold to the touch.

“Pulses don’t lie but it’s not a guarantee you’re dead either. Could be you're just something special like the others making headlines.” he remarked before he let go of her. It could have been a trick or she could be someone with gifts like him. “It doesn’t matter compared to what you said. When you said ‘take care of things’ it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you’re implying. There’s no deniability there, you’re asking me to help you commit murder.” Finally he picked up his glass and peered down into its contents before he downed it. He released a sigh from the burning sensation that went down into his stomach then looked back to Siobhan. “That’s not even considering the fact anyone who helps you would be painting a target on their back.”

She knew there was more to his story, it was clear. There had likely been violence in his life that affected him from the mob.

And then it was confirmed, his reaction to Osborn. She was curious, but didn't press at the moment. Maybe it was the uncle he mentioned, maybe someone else.

"I would think I am something special like them, I mean corpses don't exactly walk around. But, yes, I do mean revenge. My research has suggested that I am a revenant. Maybe I am something else, I don't know. I want justice and the only justice I can imagine is the final kind." Siobhan gave the man across from her a hard look. Her eyes cold and dispassionate, completely separated from her emotions once again. "Something tells me you are not too concerned about that, otherwise the reality of sitting across from a woman who is a dead tool of vengeance would have you politely exiting this fine establishment. "

“Assuming you’re a corpse and not just one of these people with powers,” he commented then reached over for his jacket to grab his pack and lighter from one of the pockets. “And maybe you’re right about me not giving a damn.” He pulled out a cigarette and brought it to his lips before lighting the end of it. The man inhaled slowly then motioned over to the bartender for another round. “Or maybe you’re not the strangest person I’ve met or I’m not completely sold on this yet.” The part about Siobhan being dead did not bother him at all compared to others he found to be alarming. Osborn once had a cannibal in his employ after all.

“Killing someone isn’t the worst thing you can do to a person. Unless what you’re thinking this will allow you to pass onto the afterlife or whatever.” He took another drag of the cigarette and contemplated his options. “How long have you been trying to track your kill down? I can’t have been the first person you’ve told this to.” It was an assumption but with how quickly she divulged this information there were surely others she asked for help.

"Is there a difference? The root cause may be the same. I mean, people don't rise from the dead and they don't turn into monsters or climb on the sides of buildings." Maybe it was all related. Maybe a decade earlier and she'd just be dead dead.

She got another double as well. She may feel it but not for long unless she drank heavily. Being dead was not a good time. "If I am a reverent then I have to kill this person to be whole, to move on, to die. I've tried. I've killed myself a dozen times. Either I am stuck in the realm of the living or I have a purpose. I prefer the latter." She hoped that would let her move on. She kept living but only because it was what she needed to do but she felt the need to try to move on. "Days after it happened I started. People don't believe me. I've asked a few. I told at least three cops, nothing. A few PIs, nothing again, but they were happy to take my money. So, now a journalist. It's not like anyone will believe a story about me. I mean, I'm now famous enough around town that it will seem petty, ironic that the celebration for that was what caused all of this." She didn't worry about much, though. Death wasn't a possibility, unfortunately. Life, though, she was living in a more full way than she ever had. Even with her focus on revenge she was being present in every situation.

“Yes, but there have been people with well let’s call them gifts and once they die they stay that way,” Peter informed her. “They might be able to do amazing things but their road ends the same as anyone else thus that makes you even more extraordinary compared to them.” To him it made perfect sense but it also helped that he knew where his own powers came from. Siobhan on the other hand was a complete mystery.

“I think most people like to think they have a purpose for being here.” He was not one of them but who was he to judge others on their beliefs? “As for the people you sought out it’s probably for the best they didn’t take you seriously. If they went poking their nose in the wrong place they’d likely be dead right now.” The way he spoke about this might make one think he was used to dealings like the one he described. “Lucky for you I’m not worried about that sort of thing or that I’m not looking for money. However, it doesn’t mean I’ll help you for free.” Everyone in this city, in this world wanted something and he was no different. “Whoever did this has to pay and more with his life. Any information we can get from him about his employers to put them behind bars so that means no killing your murderer outright until then. If we’re taking care of one fish might as well clear out the pond while we’re at it.”

"True, and I do not. I do not know if that is something related or not." Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. She was curious, though. "You say extraordinary and I say cursed. The possibility of immortality is frightening." She wanted to move on now that she knew there was a moving on. She had seen heaven and hell and hoped she was to move to the former.

"I do think coming back from the dead is different than just waking up and seeing a purpose. That said, I am happy to help. I know it isn't an individual but a system that caused my death. But, in the end, whomever was responsible and whomever pulled the trigger, they have to see their end so that I can. And if I cannot, well, I do not know. I can wait until the sun goes dark...sorry, that was a bit bleak." It terrified her to think that there may be no end to her life. That she may see the end of the human species, the end of the sun, the end of all the suns. The heat death of the universe and just her and maybe a few other beings like her.

“It does sound frightening as a concept, not being able to die. That being said from first impressions and all you’re managing better than I imagine most would. I know this is messed up to say but better someone like you got this curse than a mobster or some other kind of criminal.” The thought of someone like Osborn being unable to die would be a walking nightmare though the thought of himself being unable to die was also an unpleasant thought. He had gotten lucky by sticking to walls and his other gifts though he hoped some unknown form of immortality was not in the cards for him.

When she commented how bleak the discussion turned he laughed lightly. “I think we crossed that lin the moment you brought up being dead. Word of advice, don’t focus on what ifs when there’s so much that you can do.” He flicked the cigarette slightly which caused some ashes to fall. “We’ll find your killer then we’ll worry about the rest if it turns out there’s something to actually worry about. Deal?”

"you know, it's funny. Actresses would wish for this, being eternally young. Never having an imperfection. But it's that which makes us human. And, of course, this curse wasn't bestowed upon a random actress, no, but one with too much education. I've read far too much philosophy. Kierkegaard oft comes to mind, and Nietzsche. Though, I disagree with his thought about God, god is real, and god has a fucked up sense of humor." She didn't care much about propriety.

"So, I kill him and see what happens. But, I have to worry, I mean the whole reverent idea may be wrong and I may be simply undead. Would you like to see how it works? I mean, you seem to be interested in truths and if I do die I wouldn't mind this being documented. Never before, but if I do."

“If God is real then… One of the most prominent figures who have come back from the dead is His own son. Look at it this way, you’re part of one very exclusive club.” Again this was him making a joke and it showed from the expression on his face. Siobhan was beginning to be a little too dour even for him and this was his attempt at some levity. Actually the real joke was between the two of them the dead woman had more to live for than him at this point.

“You mean document a story no one would ever believe to begin with and also implicate myself in a murder. I’m all for truth but everyone has their limit and landing myself in prison is mine.” Besides, there was one Parker in prison and he was going to make sure Ben was also the last. “And if you don’t move on or whatever you want to call it then we start looking for another solution."

"I don't think Jesus and I have much in common. And that assumes a Christian God." She had been raised Irish Catholic but things had changed. Now she didn't so much believe and had researched many religions in the last couple of months.

"What's wrong? You joke but I feel there's something else. Before we discuss the nature of the crime that really isn't one, which if I do die I wouldn't really care if you waited until your death to publish, I am curious why you would help. It isn't like this isn't a possible fool's errand."

“I don’t know, he died with two people and was killed because of someone else’s greed. It might not be much but there are some similarities between you two.” He finished his cigarette then downed his second drink. He could hold his liquor better than most thanks to his gifts or curses as Siobhan might call them, but he was not about to appear like he was more of a drunk than a journalist. Not exactly the best impression to make with someone he was offering his services to.

Her question concerning why he would help was a valid one and also one he had a simply enough response to. “You mean publish what would likely be the story of a generation then not be around to give any answers to questions people might have. Now that’s just being a tease,” he said jokingly. “I’m helping you because I was taught to help people since I was a kid. You’re asking me so who am I to refuse? Just make sure when you do cross over you put a good word in for me to whatever god is up there.”

"I died with four, though. And I didn't anger the government. I like to think of it more like Osiris, alive but with something vital missing. It fits more." She appreciated those myths, they were more real in many ways. She also noted his drinking, but her family drank. Still, no notice of anything after two in a short time. She ordered more, especially for herself.

"A posthumous biography. Not a tease. And most people would refuse. It's dangerous. It's ridiculous. And I don't even know if I'll be going to that side. I have dreams of both. Heaven, hell, some in betweens. Maybe it's just dreams or maybe it's a glimpse. Maybe I should even start a religion of my own."

“Exactly, two pairs you doubled what he had though if you all died in a pile then we can go down the rabbit hole of you dying on your own cross. Four points on a cross, four people,” he shrugged. “And the government did have a hand in your death. Everyone knows the criminals run New York. Though if you want to liken yourself to Osiris then by all means. You’re the one close to godhood after all.”

“Never cared for autobiographies, to me writing about yourself is about as vain as a person can get. There’s enough to write about without adding my own life to it. Concerning it being dangerous, this isn’t my first time. Ridiculous, well we happened to meet because I was told to write a story about a dragon. Ridiculous is part of my everyday routine by this point.” It was not as if he enjoyed it but this was his life and he knew the abnormal was going to be a constant for the foreseeable future. “Well if revenge doesn’t get you what you want then maybe being a religious figure will. Not a bad fallback plan, but don’t expect to convert me. Being your partner in this is one thing but a follower is out of the question.”

She laughed a bit too much about the whole thing. "I have no desire to be anything but a musician, a singer. But I do prefer the Egyptian to the Judaic for my own state. An I'm nowhere near godhood, I feel more like Job than anything." She hated the whole thing, but it was a necessity. A large part of her wanted to simply leave and go find that balance she desired.

"But I have to ask why you wouldn't become a believer? What if I stab myself in the heart only to be reborn? I mean, Siobhanism would be so much better than most others. The tenants would be easy to follow including not being an arse to others."

Despite the topic of their conversation Siobhan managed to laugh at it all and frankly Peter found the laugh suited her quite nicely. “Not a great selling point for me to stick around then. I remember what happened to the people who were close to Job.” Obviously he was kidding since so far he had not given any indication he was not interested in seeing this through. There were still some potential issues but nothing that caused him to look for the nearest exit.

“Why I wouldn’t? Oh that’s simple. Hard to be a believer in a church when I’m the one you’re asking to help you. Hard to believe in a god when they need assistance, though now that I think about it you might want me to write your story just so you have a prophet. Yeah the Book of Peter Parker, never gonna happen.” He propped one of his arms on the table. “So now that we know each other a little better I’m curious about something else. Is there another reason you want to see the dragon other than the fact it might be an actual dragon?”

"Too true. It took dying to become that dame who's trouble." She said that in a way that suggested she wanted to have that before but didn't. She had definitely changed, become more confident since there was nothing to worry about with herself.

"It's definitely easier to be an absent god. I mean, when people can see you it humanizes you. Such a pity. I'd be an excellent goddess, far more interesting rules. Shots of whiskey instead of sips of wine to start." It was nice just joking about something. Truthfully, she worried about such things. What if people found out she was 'risen' and took it as something divine. Or, worse, something evil. She certainly looked it when her eyes went red and she was filled with violence.

Siobhan nodded, "there are so many stories about dragons. If some of them are true then dragons may be ancient and wise creatures. Maybe not the nicest creatures but knowledgeable. If that's true I may be able to get some answers to some of the essential questions about my existence. I know it is unlikely but I have to try."

“You’d have to go about changing the law then. Can’t have SHIELD raiding your churches over some bottles of whiskey. That’s not even accounting the mess your followers would leave in the building after communion.” He was unsure about religion anymore after all he witnessed in his life but compared to some of the people who used it as a tool to get what they want Siobhan would not be such a horrible figure. Aside from the fact she would likely promote her followers to take revenge.

“If this thing is real then it’s a dragon that was captured by a human. Definitely not wise unless this Kraven has some ability of his own that helped him capture it.” It was all hypothetical and he was still leaning on the dragon being a fake though he still needed to see it otherwise JJ would blow the roof off the Bugle. As amusing it would be to see it happen he very much wanted to keep his job.

“We both have reasons for wanting to see this dragon and my curiosity about it has been increasing ever since we were told to get lost. Let’s give it another shot this evening even if we have to use the back entrance.” He was not above sneaking into the place if Kraven was going to keep people out for the time being. An interview and a photo would have been preferred but if that was not possible then the latter would have to suffice.

"I thought churches had a religions exemption. They have wine at communion. So it should just be a great party. The songs can all be Jazz, Blues and Show Tunes." A bit of levity was good. She had been a devout lapsed Catholic before she died. Now she wasn't sure about the religions but she knew there was an afterlife and pretty certain there was a good place and a bad place. Maybe not the Christian type, and she didn't know the criterion.

She nodded in agreement, "maybe that's the case. Or maybe they aren't ferocious. And, as you said, he could have abilities of his own." She knew it was a long shot.

"That sounds good. Just let me know the time." She still wondered why there were fliers when hey weren't letting people in.

“What the churches consider to be wine, it gets a pass. You tell SHIELD there’s hard liquor at Mass and they’d bust down the door in a heartbeat.” Peter’s expression then changed to one of doubt though it had to do with the other part of Siobhan’s proposed religion practices. “Show Tunes? Why did you have to ruin what sounded like a good time with those?” He knew he was in the minority when it came to disliking those type of songs but it did not stop him from making the joke.

“It’s all guesses at this point. The one thing we know do know is the man has an abnormal business model if he’s paying to advertise along with paying security to keep people out.” Why this happened he could not say but it was certainly interesting. Not as interesting as a woman back from the dead to avenge her own murder but he doubted anything would top that soon.

He nodded and pulled from one of his other jacket pockets a small pad along with a pen. After flipping to a blank page he slid both items over to Siobhan. “I’m assuming you have phone. If not I guess I could see if hiring a medium to contact you would work.” Another joke which seemed to be part of his personality once he settled into a conversation though he knew to some people it could be an annoying quirk of his.

"Come now, I am an actress in musicals how could any religion about me not have show tunes. I am, after all, the one who is the chosen, the risen. And if I want some Gershwin I get some Gershwin." Her pout was quickly replaced with a grin.

"I do, but I am not always home. Other than sleeping I try to avoid it too much. It's my place for quiet contemplation and reading philosophy. I'll include the numbers of the club I'll probably be at. Oh, and, I can do that," She added quickly, "the medium thing, that is. A little time, some meditation, a body part or important article and boom, we are talking with the dead."

“I guess that makes me your first heretic then. If the religion doesn't pan out maybe you find a composer and you can do a musical about all of this” Peter replied as they both continued to trade jokes. The topic was absurd but better than either of them actually considering that Siobhan was a newly Messiah. It was a bit of good fortunate she was the one reborn though he was uncertain if the same could be said about his own rebirth.

Peter nodded while he began to look for one of his business cards. When he finally found it and was in the process of handing it to her he suddenly fumbled which caused the card to drop to the table. “You can? This… Definitely changes how we can go about your case.” The smile on his face vanished and he began to ponder this revelation. It was as if he was staring at something far off from how focused his gaze was. Then it dawned on him how he zoned out of the conversation, a mix of embarrassment and guilt washed over him. “Sorry, got lost in my own head there for a minute. That card has the number you can use to reach me. If I’m not at home then I’m usually at the Bugle.”

"Well, we may have to begin the ritual flogging, then." Siobhan shrugged, it was just a fact of the rules, one she didn't relish. "Unless you wish to repent with a heartfelt rendition of You're the Cream in My Coffee." That sounded like a good way doing things and far more entertaining than, say, hail marys.

"Maybe I should have mentioned that earlier? And I think I should add some mysticism to it, mediums are supposed to be spooky and mysterious aren't they?" She took the card and placed it in her purse. "Tonight, though, it will be dark by five so how about six?"

“I think I’ll take my chances with the flogging instead of singing then again, that would be torturous for both of us.” Compared to the Show Tunes, the hymns in church might actually be preferable but thankfully he did have to worry about singing either for the rest of his life.

“Probably but at least you told me instead of me finding out later. Talking to spirits might make this easier or more difficult. I guess it depends how willing the dead are to speak.” Would the spirits lie or was this essentially Siobhan having a reliable well of information to use at leisure? “Six should work. Maybe they’ll welcome customers this time. If not then we’ll have to be creative and find another way inside.”