Adult-FanFiction.org : Marvel 'Verse

Spectacular Spider-man Seasons 3, 4 and 5	By : redsliver Category: Marvel Verse Cartoons > Spectacular Spiderman, The Views: 23572 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, The Spectacular Spider-man or any of the characters within. This is written not for profit and purely for entertainment. May contain traces of wheat germ.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
History 307 - Empires Rise
“You can’t not go, Lizzie!” Sally grabbed her friend and pulled her into an alcove between lockers. Her snarl sent another freshman hurrying down to the next water fountain. “It’s the party. There won’t be anything this big for months. This is our last chance to show the school where we intend to stand in the food chain for senior year!”
“That’s just it Sal,” Liz sighed, “I don’t care where I stand. It’s not like you’re going to stop being my friend and none of the boys left without dates are worth my time.”
“That’s just from the school.” Sal rolled her eyes, “You could easily get an ESU guy or someone else and--”
“I’m not going trolling for college guys, Sal,” Liz wrote that plan off. “Besides, you remember what happened at the formal. Petey and MJ showed up together and pushed us all to the back. They’re going to be going again and I don’t want to or need to deal with that drama.”
“I never thought I’d see Liz drop out of the game because she was scared,” Sally rolled back onto the heels of her white sneakers.
“I’m not scared,” Liz sighed, “Just tired of this whole thing.”
“Look, at least don’t prevent me from setting you up with a date? Please?” Sally’s bright blue eyes had a hard to resist quality when not paired with her shrill voice. Liz’s shoulder slumped.
“Fine,” Liz agreed, “You find someone you think I’ll like,” She underscored the word several times, “and I’m willing to give him a chance. But I don’t want to just show up at Hydra with whoever you think will make me the best arm candy.”
“I promise!” Sally bounced and wrapped Liz up in a warm and tight embrace. At this moment, Harry and Peter were walking by. Peter immediately flushed red and looked guilty as he glimpsed the stony stare from Liz. Harry raised an eyebrow.
“I have no idea what you did Pete,” Harry declared as they continued towards English class, “But if you can get her back with a flowers and chocolates I’ll cover the first thousand dollars of it.”
“What?” Peter shook out of his guilty reverie. Images of of white skin and silver hair turned his red blood white hot. The small part of him, the intelligent and logical part, knew that Liz couldn’t know what had happened. The majority of him feared that she was just waiting to close the noose around her neck. He had already hurt her so much.
“Liz, you twit,” Harry pushed, “She’s good for you. Put up with all your flakiness and then, I can only surmise, you went and did something you were too stupid to apologize and make up for.”
“I don’t think an apology’s going to cut it,” Peter admitted. He was in love with Gwen. He had promised her, he had dumped Liz for her, though only four people knew that and Peter was unaware of Harry’s intelligence. Now Peter believed Gwen was helping Harry heal from his addictions, his father’s death. He couldn’t begrudge his best friend that. Even if every now and then he imagined the face on the other side of Spider-man’s fist was Harry’s.
“Yeah, that’s why we break out the flowers and chocolates. I’m talking a bouquet big enough to put whatever flowers she likes on the endangered species list. Also you’re going to have to deal with a King Kong sized girlfriend when this is all said and done.”
“That’s not such a problem,” The ubiquitous defensive tackle announced overhearing the tail end of Harry and Peter’s conversation. “You’ll never have more to love.”
Kenny pushed passed the two friends and into their class. Harry stopped, “Ok, fewer chocolates.”
“Agreed,” Peter nodded looking down the hall to the chemistry classroom and wondering how much acetone he’d need to pour into his ears to clean that mental image from memory.
“Awesome,” Harry moved to punch Peter in the shoulder. His eyes went wide when he found his wrist caught in Peter’s grip. “Holy crap, buddy! Those are some reflexes.”
“Yeah, sorry, just a little off today,” Peter let go sheepishly.
“Nothing new,” Harry shrugged off the uncharacteristic reflexes. “But seriously, come by tonight we’ll work out the logistics for putting you back together.”
“Wait what?” Peter said to Harry’s back. What the hell had he agreed to now?
** ** ** ** ** **
Betty Brant, 20 year old personal assistant to J Jonah Jameson, sat on the bus with earbuds in. She had never been an introvert. She had sought journalism as a career because she wanted to explore the universe. She loved science, politics, crime and economics. She was a bright enthusiastic insightful young woman with a huge dynamic engaging world to explore. However on this morning it was cathartic to exist only as far as her own skin.
The trip from Ned's apartment to work was about thirty minutes longer than from her own home. She had to wake up earlier, have extra clothes prepared so she didn't walk into a bullpen full of keen-eyed reporters in yesterday's blouse and all the while keep her mind at a sharper level than . She really needed to set up a corner of his closet and a spot in his bathroom. It was exhausting finding a moment between them, let alone getting her shit together in spite of the urge to rush in and take advantage of the little time they could find. A couple of months ago she would have been happy to have the smell of his shampoo in her hair all day. She made a note to hit her favorite boutique the next time she headed over. She knew that would be as soon as possible.
At least Ned was worth it.
Her night had been unexpected. Investigative journalism was not a 9 to 5 job. Ned kept obsessive hours. Betty had accepted that she was going to spend the night at home, the only reason she hadn't yet stripped down into her panties and Eli Manning jersey while flicking through her Netflix menu was her sweet tooth. The bakery in Hell's Kitchen served the best glazed cinnamon rolls she knew of. She was waiting in line when her phone had started buzzing.
"Hey, beautiful," Ned was bright and cheerful. Something good must have happened.
"Hey handsome," Betty replied. The unexpected bringing a smile to her lips.
"Come over tonight."
"We celebrating something?" Betty followed the lilt in his voice.
"Being young and beautiful in New York City," he cheered. "You're not at your place."
"I'm getting something from the bakery," She replied.
"Cinnamon bun for me too and I'll meet you outside."
There had never been a question to her. She was being instructed, told. Out of rebelliousness and confidence, part of her wanted to play hard to get. More of her wanted to be gotten. "Sounds good, Ned."
"Morning Betty," The hot dog vendor outside the Bugle interrupted her train of thought. He was still setting up his street meat stand for the day. She gave him a smile and a wave. She pushed through the main doors of the building.
Betty leaned in, dodging the kiss and using the tip of her tongue to steal a bit of icing from the edge of Ned's lips. "Not good enough Betty."
"What?" She had almost had time to mutter. Ned had scooped her thighs up in either hand. She yelped as her lower body swung out below her and she fell back onto the flower print cushions of his thrift shop sofa.
He settled in on his knees. The denim of their jeans preventing immediate penetration. Betty suddenly hated her jeans, even despite them making her ass look fantastic.
"Now this," Ned announced after a sweet enduring kiss, "is good."
Betty didn't disagree as she retreated back onto her elbows. She raised her lips to his. She felt the static energy between them. She wondered, for only as long as it had taken for Ned's hand to settle against her neck, what hadn't been good?
Xerox lights rolled back in forth like a metronome. Papers rustled together with wave like swishing. The tick on the overhead clock let the fog persist. Betty was smiling sloppily.
She shrieked for the umpteenth time. Her feet twisting, curling, kicking in the air. Her fingers threshed bedclothes. His tongue was divine. Ned was a details man. He came to her like a starving man to dinner. His nose pressed apart her brown hair and burrowed against the focus of her pleasure.
B! She gurgled, uncertain in her want as she felt the agility of his tongue. Lips parted and shuddered. What she screamed weren't words. His hands lifted her by the cheeks. She only touched the bed with her forearms and hair. Spread, volatile, strangled in the shirt she had no opportunity to divest.
E! His tongue looped against her. The trickle of desire spiking in a short torrent over Ned's face. The pinky finger threatened her untouched ass. No, yes, please, help, if she couldn't discern her own pleas how could he?
T! His tongue split her. Crossing out over the red swelling that made her arm drop. Ned was relentless. His knees creaked the bed springs. He followed her, folded her. She rolled up on her shoulders. Her legs spastic. His grip had changed. The hem of her shirt falling down to her brassiere. A hand against her abdomen. The tip of his thumb worried against her navel. He held her tailbone. The tip of his thumb separated her ass, worrying her anus. She wondered if her eyes would ever close again.
T! He repeated the flicker against her sex. This time she couldn't scream. All the weight of her body seemed to squeezed her lungs tight. Panting, spittle flying, Betty cried. The tears forming in her eyes a result of sensory overload. She rocked her head, her neck flaccid, mimicking the motion of Ned against her pussy.
Y! Dear God! The prayer a remnant of her childhood a thing abandoned. As her control left her, as the second flush of desire spat from her flesh, as she felt the spatter over her breasts and lips she clung to whatever was still left in her.
"Oops, sorry Betty," Robbie excused himself as he rounded a corner and almost mowed her down. She wavered but kept her burden from scattering over the floor. She smiled forgiveness too far from consciousness for smalltalk. Robbie gave her the hallway and she passed by him and stepped out of the world.
Cum glistened on her lips like gloss. She looked up and saw that Ned approved of her cocky smile. Betty shook out her sweaty hair. She held the tips of her reddened breasts. The abuse he had leveled against her body still tingled. He grabbed her chin and pulled her up to his feet. She leaned in to kiss him. He held her steady inches away from the kiss.
"Lick up that mess and swallow," He commanded. Betty obeyed, slowly rolling her tongue along the pale pink of her lips. She bent her neck back so he could see the proof of her compliance. She wasn't just a little puppet with strings for Ned to pull. Her fingers coddled the spit slick cock she had recently adored. Ned shuddered, sensitive from the end of their lovemaking.
"Naughty girl," Ned praised, scooping up her brown hair as he pulled her into a passionate kiss. "I can't believe you need more."
"Am I too much for you?" Betty encircled her fingers tight on his cock. Ned was beginning to stir. She had a bright smile plastered on her lips.
"I'm going to fuck you," Ned threatened.
"Promises..." Betty rolled her eyes. "You're done."
Her hands dropped from the waking cock and she turned. He grabbed her hips as she turned. She yelped as she was lifted up and slammed into the mattress. She had never been taken from behind before. There was an exciting anonymity of not seeing the sharp look in Ned's eyes when he drove inside her. She felt dehumanized, having her face pressed into the pillows. There was eroticism in surrender. Something she had been told but had failed to comprehend. She felt Ned's hands first. He grabbed her by the upper arm and the inside of her right thigh. He held her down and yanked her ass upwards.
"Ned," she pleaded. She had instigated this and she was excited to play it out. Her heart thrummed like a hummingbird. His cock rushed against her pussy. She had already cum three times tonight; she ached at his touch. Her next words were muffled by the pillow case.
If he had come at her as fierce as he had thrown her she may have screamed. He instead took a measured control. Each action was patient, relentless, maddening. Slowly, he entered her forcing her to exhale. Betty tried to buck back onto Ned. She contracted around baiting him to take her. She lifted herself up. His hand left her arm and gripped her by the hair.
"You've asked for this, Betty," Ned declared. He pulled his cock out of her.
"Ned," Betty whimpered. She looked back over her shoulder. His hand brushed back the hair over ear. She couldn't see his eyes, blocked as they were by his forearm. Maybe, she wouldn't have been as scared if she could see more than his determined jaw. "Ned?"
"I'm here," he answered. His hand tightened in her hair and directed her eyes forward. He held the cheek of her ass. A strong pull of the meat opened her up. She had never felt so raw. She had never felt so debased.
"Ah," she flinched as his cock touched her asshole.
"Miss Brant!" J Jonah was not a boss a smart employee allowed to repeat himself.
"Yes?" She had dealt with the man long enough to avoid his wrath. Today she wasn't at her best.
"I asked for those blanks 3.7 hours ago!" He barked, hands slapping down upon her desktop.
"It was 20 minutes ago, Mr Jameson," she resurrected the calm competence required to work at the Bugle, "And I was just getting out of my seat to discover the hold up when you marched up to my desk."
"I don't need your facts and backtalk! Go! Go! Go!" He rose and turned towards his next explosion. Betty sighed and climbed to her feet. Robbie appeared at her shoulder.
"Is everything OK, Betty?" He asked with concern.
"I'm fine, why do you ask?" She shook out the cobwebs with a lazy smile.
"Because it had only been 10 minutes since he had asked for the blanks." Robbie cocked an eyebrow.
"Its nothing, Mr Robertson," Betty admitted her uneven keel, "Just something I need to fix after work."
"Well if you need a hand or a shoulder," Robbie let the offer speak for itself. He nodded to her when she begged off with a thank you.
What was becoming of her? Scatterbrained little trollop who couldn't even keep her mind off sex. It had been good. Different. Exciting. Terrifying. Her skin tingled as she let her smile broaden.
She was in pain. Full in a way she hadn't expected. Ned sawed in and out of her. The slickness from her pussy little comfort inside her ass. Ned loved what he felt. He told her. Told her she made him feel more than anyone else had ever could. That was her analgesic. She felt narcotically beautiful.
"Ah, it's so far inside me," She moaned, she was reaching back to her sex. She amplified the feeling he instilled. Her ankle twitched. She bit inside her cheek. She impelled her self onto Ned's cock. She refused to be used, insistent that she pleasured Ned and not that he simply pleasured himself inside of her.
He was grunting, having gripped her by both hips as he reddened her ass with his hips. He kept telling her she was amazing, a mantra punctuated with the slap of flesh. Her breath hitched and stuttered. His breath quickened and heated.
Betty's hand curled, her finger nails abusing her sex. She ground her clit with furious insistence. She could feel Ned spasming inside her. It was a stimulation that she hadn't experienced. Her sex she loved and understood. That feeling of impending pleasure, of release inside her, made her burn with her own pleasure. Inside her ass Ned's rising need accompanied Betty's fear. She rubbed and fingered hoping she could concentrate on her own orgasm. She wanted to overcome Ned's.
She rocked on her shoulders and knees. She bit into the flesh of her left palm. Her shriek was poorly muffled. Ned growled. He pulled Betty tight against his hips and unleashed himself inside her.
"Fuck!" Betty garbled as she bit her hand more tightly. Her fingers scissored against her poor sensitized flesh. Her sex spasmed. She would have collapse on the bed had Ned let her. She shook, her ass rotating around the last moments of Ned's orgasm.
Slowly, as he exited Betty, Ned pulled the two of them down onto the bed. Betty rolled with him as he cuddled against her back. She reveled in the arms that tightened around her.
She was slow to sleep. Even as Ned's breath slowed and fell measured, Betty's mind wandered. Ned had been uncommunicative about much more than fucking her. She hadn't minded, though her body was sore in ways she hadn't felt before. The sex had been immersive. She began to think Ned had been escaping something. Worrying and aches gave way to exhaustion. Finally, her eyes slipped shut.
She woke to the chirp of her cell phone. The other side of the bed was cold. Ned, nowhere again. She had stopped assuming the worst. Ned worked on little sleep and the worst diet she had ever witnessed. He seemed to find fuel in his obsessions. His desk was littered with police reports and photographs. Pictures were pushpinned into a bulletin board over his dresser. It was disconcerting waking to the face of the Goblin.
She lifted up a notebook that had a picture of Jack O'Lantern stapled to it. A short flip through the increasingly impatient notes began to shed some light on Ned's need and frustration.
"Where is Lee?" Jameson roared.
"That's what I would like to know," Betty broke from her daydream again.
"Somebody find him or I'll sack him like Parker!"
** ** ** ** ** **
“Your magnetic flight technology is incredible,” Phineas Mason announced as he rolled out from under the black and red chassis. The weapon he was building was the size of a panel van. It’s oblong body was a mess of empty recesses for the weapons and widgets scattered all across the floor. Mason was laying back on a rolling back so that he could weld Adrian’s contributions to its bottom.
Vulture was sitting at a drafting desk, a chain scale next to him weighed a rocket propelled grenade as he calculated how much ordnance their project could carry. “Thank you, Mason.” Toomes looked up with a smile appropriate for a child’s nightmare. “Osborn’s Tech-Flight is a mockery of what this technology can really do.”
“I agree,” Phineas lied. He had seen video of the Goblin’s glider in action and he was already considering the benefits of rocket propelled thrusters adjunct to the magnetic flight.
“How are the Tri-Corp chips working?” Vulture turned back to his calculator.
“Simulations are promising. If they’re 80% accurate I’d say we’re likely to clean the city of its spider problem.”
“80%? That would be unacceptable. We’ll need to do better than that. I thought Beck’s test had been a success?” Vulture stood up and crossed the room. His eyes turned to the eleven Mysterio bots who had been conscripted into welding, riveting, wiring, assembling and shaping the components of the project.
“They’re working extremely well,” Beck said himself. He was dressed in old sweats as he spray painted the armor plates black and red. “Infinitely better than Phineas’s first bots.”
“Your gratitude is remarkable.” Mason deadpanned.
“Beck will give credit where it is due,” Vulture announced but didn’t press the issue. “How long now?”
“Have you readied the arsenal?” Mason asked, pulling his welding mask back over his face.
“I have,” Toomes picked a small legal pad from his desk and tossed it down onto Mason’s chest. The Tinkerer looked over the list, his thoughtful face hidden behind the protective plate. “We can be ready for action tonight.”
“Excellent.” Vulture rolled his shoulders back. “Tonight the Spider-man faces his Slayer.”
** ** ** ** ** **
“You’re not usually this distracted, Tiger,” Mary Jane Watson picked the seat next to Peter in the cafeteria. Peter had a copy of The Daily Bugle half torn apart in his hands. His fries and burger were swiftly growing cold. The New York Educational System quality fryer oil was congealing on the mass of junk food.
“I’m not usually this confused.” Peter admitted. Everything was pulling at him. At the moment certain distractions were worse. Across the Cafeteria was the cool table. Liz was looking warm and happy. She conspired with Sally, lambasted Kenny and got under Glory’s skin. He had promised Liz Saturday so she could get a big head start on her Biology final. She would have had him everyday after school all week but his job at ESU had allowed him to beg off. He was scared. He wasn’t a hundred percent what technically he and Cat were but one thing was certain, his moment of weakness had him cheating on Liz. He honestly wanted to tell her, be a man, let her get angry and hurt again so she could finally cut the the cancer that was Peter Parker out of her life and start healing. He just couldn’t though. Who would he say he had cheated with? He would have to admit he was Spider-man. He couldn’t do that. He could hardly bear the looks Liz forced on him in public and in private. The hate, the hurt, the need, the love. It was all there, all the time and Peter was certain he only deserved the dark side of things.
“Wait, this is worse than normal Parker brain displacement?” MJ whistled impressed. “What happened?”
“Not here,” Peter grumbled, throwing the paper over his lunch. The cover story was face down so he didn’t have to look into that picture again. “Walk with me?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” MJ agreed. Her lunch was a fortified yogurt and celery. Part of her was intent on throwing the paper aside and eating Peter’s soiled mass. She managed a mild amount of self control. Enough to run into Harry and Gwen holding hands as they entered the cafeteria. Harry squeezed more tightly before Gwen could pull away. Peter just gave the pair a blank smile and walked around them for the door.
“Tonight Peter. Don’t be late.” Harry reminded. Gwen looked askance. MJ squeezed the blonde’s shoulder as she walked past after Peter.
Lunchtime at M3 was cluttered. The cafeteria couldn’t quite handle the massive population of the school. As it was, most of the first floor classrooms were opened to keep the corridor milling under control. Peter and MJ started upstairs away from the roving crowds of teenagers. Peter didn’t talk until they got to the top floor and found a bench with no one else in sight. Peter trusted his spider-sense to shut him up if it came to it.
“Alright Peter, I get enough mandated exercise with Desiree. I don’t need to be climbing that many stairs.” MJ pushed hoping to kickstart her friend.
“It is easier to show you,” The fact was Peter couldn’t tell Mary Jane everything. The twisted up knots that Liz with him were his own personal albatross. He reached into his backpack for his camera. He passed the silver device to MJ. She turned it on.
“Just review Tuesday’s pictures.” Peter told her. Two days ago. Peter versus Hammerhead. MJ flipped back to the designated date. Flames, muzzle flares mixed with chemical geysers, cast a hellish frame around Spider-man and Jack O’Lantern. MJ nearly dropped the camera. Something in the chaos struck home. She had known Peter risked his life as Spider-man. She had known what he did was dangerous and arguably suicidal. Until now, he had been a rock star. Superhero meant infamy and celebration. The camera showed such a dark side that she went a sickly shade of white.
“That’s not what I meant,” Peter said looking over her shoulder when she had stopped on the picture. His nonchalance is was what killed her. “I was weak. I was angry and I did what I shouldn’t again.” Reaching around the redhead, Peter scrolled forward. He didn’t see the ever expanding white of her eyes as he flipped through the battle and into the relative peace of a New York night. The white and black blur was nothing through MJ’s fearful tears. She sniffed closed, her eyes and wiped some of her mascara off onto the back of her hand. She looked down to Spider-man and Black Cat, half undressed and just at the edge of the camera’s view. She felt icy fear steam away under enigmatic anger. Her voice was barely loud enough to hear: “This is what’s got you tied up? You have no one to brag that your bagging some supervillain whore!”
MJ pushed away, dropping Peter’s camera to the floor. The hero just managed to dive and catch it. He saw his friend jet off to the stairwell. He felt no better than he had before this had happened. He felt a hundred times more confused.
Liz Allan was on the third floor when a wrecked MJ rushed off to that floor’s bathroom. The model had not seen the cheerleader. Liz cracked a smug smile and looked up, believing she could see through the floor to where Peter was gumming like a landed fish. He was easy, MJ had wanted more but Liz was deep enough that Peter had finally thrown her off. She had skip in her step when she headed back down before Peter could see her.
** ** ** ** ** **
“Nurse!” The inmate shouted to Debra Whitman from his gurney. The black sophomore rolled her eyes and put down the cover of the laptop. This collaboration with Ravencroft Hospital was beginning to try her patience. Debra turned, not bothering to affect even the most polite smile.
“Mr Kasady,” She said in slow tones, “I need to say again. I am not a nurse. I am not here to take care of you. I am not here to take your requests.”
“Nurse, can you get me some water?” The redheaded man asked anyways.
“No,” Debra declared. “Talk to Dr Kafka when she comes out of the office.”
“Nurse!” Debra ignored the man. She felt like she was dealing with children. She wished three thirty would come soon. Then the patients would be out of the laboratory and then all she would have to irritate her was a goofy, friendly boy that was more intelligent that she was. She looked forward to Gwen.
“Yes,” The door to the office opened and Dr Warren held the door for Dr Kafka. “I am aware of your misgivings, however the law and the hospital are still behind me. Your constant demands and reiterations are growing tiresome Doctor.”
“Well perhaps I’m just expecting you to finally recognize the words I’m using!” She huffed. She turned to see Cletus looking at her and she sighed.
“I agreed to your coming here in the hopes that it would aid my work,” Dr Warren told her. “It was a courtesy I have not been required to extend.”
“I am aware,” The icy turn in Dr Kafka’s voice reached deep into Debra’s psyche. She was not a woman the assistant would want to cross. “Fine, I’ll keep my reservations for my reports.”
“That would be appreciated,” Dr Warren conceded. Aware that the only people reading Dr Kafka’s reports would be college students researching a paper. Provided any success on his behalf, the only reports to be read would be his own. “Ms Whitman, how are the patients?”
“Mr Kasady is seeking attention,” Debra pushed her glasses up on her nose.
“That’s kind of what got him into trouble in the first place,” The second patient spoke up with a smile. Debra felt the corner of her mouth twitch but she kept her professional frown.
“And Mr Brock has been patient.”
“The patient patient, that’s me,” Eddie said this time breaking through Debra’s icy demeanour for nearly an entire heartbeat. He was belted to his gurney as was Kasady, however he was just fettered at the waist and wrists where Cletus had additional straps across his upper arms, chest, thighs, ankles and throat.
“And how does it feel to be back, Mr Brock?” Dr Warren had met the boy for a few days before his incarceration. He had found the man to be devious and of forethought. Any respect he might have cultivated lasted as far as the breakdown.
“I had never noticed all the details of the roof before.” Eddie referenced his supine position.
“Very good,” Dr Warren nodded. Dr Kafka had walked over to Cletus’s bed and discussed in quiet tones his need for water. “Now today is just for the extractions of a couple of samples and then the two of you will be going back to Ravencroft.”
“Oh good,” Eddie sighed.
“You are still in need of treatment Eddie,” Kafka held a styrofoam cup with a bendy straw to Cletus’s lips. “I’m liking this improvement but we need to keep it consistent.”
“Sure Doc,” Eddie turned his head. “I’m definitely looking forward to more of these field trips.”
“Of course,” Dr Kafka disguised her displeasure. There was a dry slurping sound and she took the cup away from Cletus. In a reflex action, she picked the straw from his mouth with two fingers. Tugging until he finally stopped biting down on the tip.
“Ms Whitman,” Dr Warren announced the end of his conversation with the experiment. “Bring me the syringes. It is time to begin.”
** ** ** ** ** **
“What the hell did you let happen?” Spider-man growled as Captain George Stacy lifted up his office window to let the vigilante in.
“I didn’t let anything happen,” George Stacy said in a tired voice he usually reserved for pushy reporters. “The FBI and HomeSec had taken this out of my hands.”
“Passing the buck?” Spider-man scoffed. “I thought--”
“You’re angry Spider-man. Whatever you’re going to say is not what you will want to have said.” The Police Captain interrupted with an authoritative voice that would have made Julius Caesar say “Yes sir! Right away sir!”
“Fine!” Spider-man growled. “But Tombstone has fled the country and he’s not going to answer for his crimes! How can you sit there on your hands!”
“I’m glad you took my advice to think before you speak to heart,” Captain Stacy grumbled in a tone adults saved for teenagers. “Tombstone isn’t the only criminal in the city. Street crime is rampant. It hasn’t been this bad since the 80s. I have my force spread so thin, we’re barely making a dent.”
“I’ve seen,” Spider-man felt the force leave his sails. “I picked up two different teams of carjackers on my way here.”
Captain Stacy stepped back from the window and fell into his chair. He grabbed the bridge of his nose. Since the advent of the supercriminal, Judges were beginning to take Spider-man’s actions as admissible evidence. It was slow going. Still one in three of Spider-man’s takedowns walked. He had been a deterrent. But that seemed to be waning, despite the fact that the last four costumes the Spider had caught had gone to the hospital before the jail.
“Thank you,” George agreed. Spider-man solved crimes took no bullets and there had yet to be civilian casualties. It was hard to argue with those numbers, “Every thug is seeing Tombstone’s escape as an inspirational success story. Blocks and districts are rallying under whoever can be the Big Man of the day. We take in an upstart crime boss three times a day lately.”
“Yeah, is it working?” Spider-man sneered. He had remembered Valentine’s Day vividly. Dragging Tombstone from the steam tunnel and into the steel bracelets of the NYPD That had been one of his proudest moments; it felt empty now.
“We’re seeing results.” George left it at that for the moment. Truth was old loyalties were being hammered back in. His detectives were finding no link to who had taken the reigns of the New York Maggia, but whoever it was, Silvermane’s empire was beginning to appear all over again.
“Good,” Spider-man growled. He turned, intent on swinging off but something niggled the back of his neck. “Captain Stacy, thanks. The city needs men like you.”
“Men like us, Spider-man,” George kept his words to himself until the vigilante was off and gone.
** ** ** ** ** **
“He changed buses a few stops ago.” Gwen slumped down on her bus seat. She looked idly out the window.
“He was supposed to be coming out here,” Harry’s voice was grumbling through her cell phone. “I should know by now than to leave things in Pete’s hands.”
“He’s not that bad,” Gwen disagreed.
“Peter? Peter Parker?” Harry asked. Last year he would have been the first to come to Peter’s aid in anything. Ignore the death of Norman Osborn, forget that Peter still chased around Spider-man despite having quit the Daily Bugle, hell, drop the fact that Peter had attempted to steal Harry’s girlfriend, Harry knew that Peter was a man who neglected his friends and broke commitments.
“What were you guys supposed to be doing?” Gwen stepped away from the mire.
“He had some girl trouble, figured I could help.” Gwen could hear the smile on Harry’s lips. She forced herself to hide the frown on hers.
“Girl trouble? MJ?” Gwen had lost an octave or two.
“No,” Harry smirked, “Look if it wasn’t you and me, I wouldn’t go throwing around Pete’s business like this.”
“I know Harry,” Gwen placated. There was a butterfly in her stomach was setting off a storm, “You’re a good friend.”
“OK, babe,” Harry smirked, “He’s going to try to get back together with Liz!”
“Why?” Gwen’s tone seemed to skate past her boyfriend.
“Come on,” Harry pushed, “They’re perfect together. Liz needs a good guy and a smart guy like him and Peter can’t help but fall in love with a girl like her.”
“Love?” Gwen choked.
“Sure,” Harry still didn’t seem to notice, “Peter deserves some happiness. As his friends we should help him find it.”
“Of course, but--”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Harry interrupted, “Liz broke up with Peter, she’s not going to just take him back.”
“It’s not--”
“That was what the powwow was for. Pete can’t afford to be truly romantic with that little photographer job. So I was going to help him with the flowers and candy.”
“I don’t think--”
“I know, babe,” Harry steamrolled further, “But that’s why you’re the best. You love me because we love each other. Some girls, like Liz, just need a bit of bribery is all. We can’t all be as lucky as me.”
Gwen knew better. There was nothing aggressive in that last sentence. “Sure, Harry. Good luck, wish Peter my best.”
“I will babe,” Harry was bright and shining again, “Get home safe.”
Gwen shut down her phone and slumped even deeper onto the bench. After everything. Years of heartache and finally Peter admits he likes her. Loves her! He can’t even wait a few months? Harry needed her! It wasn’t her fault! He was her Peter. Not Liz’s. She breathed out. It quivered along her tongue as she exhaled. She pulled the string to stop her bus. Sure it would be six more blocks to home from here. But she hoped forcing herself to walk might stave off the tears until she was curled up in her bed.
** ** ** ** ** **
Debra Whitman was doing her post intern checklist. A quick inventory of everything, used, broken and cleaned. Peter Parker had broken a petri dish and a beaker spilling forty ml of neo-atropine. Nothing major, but frustrating that Dr Warren had said nothing. She was well aware of the accountant's mind her employer used. Perhaps, she pondered, he was considering the loss as small potatoes do to the gains he had been seeing with the Ravencroft and Tri-Corp contracts. She was aware the Tri-Corp project involved several blood samples, gene cleanser and the remaining black-brown vials marked SM-05 through SM-10. He guarded the SM samples like they were the one ring. She had carried them from the refrigerators to his workstation, something he may have trusted to Gwen had there been no glassware accidents today.
The lab was spotless. Gwen was a trooper and a perfectionist. Debra attributed most of the successfully done intern work to the high schooler. Peter was infinitely curious. Always pressing forward with questions and theories. Many were quite brilliant. She contained no small amount of envy.
Her rounds completed. Debra took her labcoat off at the front door. The knock surprised her. She was not used to visitors without forewarning from Dr Warren. She turned her head to where Dr Warren was still engrossed with his microscope and sample SM-06. Sighing, knowing she would have to pass whoever was calling on her way out, she answered the door.
“Oy, little lady,” The man standing there was wearing an inexpensive suit that suited his imperfect posture. He had a bristly mustache and oiled hair. Debra had expected a leering but none came. Next to him stood a striking woman. She was tall with flowing silver hair. She wore a white leather jacket over a lovely purple dress. “Miles asked me to contact him when this opportunity arose.”
“I’ll go tell Dr Warren.” She enunciated respect, “Who should I say is calling?”
“Miss Manfredi and her solicitor,” The man responded with a surprisingly orthodontic smile.
“Very well,” Debra agreed. “Just wait here a moment.”
“Do hurry,” The woman impelled the assistant, “This opportunity doesn’t wait forever.”
Debra answered the impetus with stoicism. She didn’t run in the lab. Her natural pace was relatively quick, but she hurried none to approach Dr Warren.
“There’s a lawyer and woman here to see you,” Debra announced. Achieving Dr Warren’s attention was best done through the facts of the moment.
“A lawyer?” Miles sat up and raised an eyebrow. He had been hoping for Debra to have been out of the lab. He preferred the opportunity to holster the revolver he favored when dealing with his late night visitors.
“Yes, he said he’s representing a Ms Manfredi,” To Debra the name meant nothing. She had no curiosity in the criminal history of New York City.
“Very well.” Dr Warren pushed his stool back before standing up in front of his microscope. “Would you return the sample and clean up this workstation? I fear I could be a while.”
“Of course,” Debra agreed. “I will be heading home after I finish.”
“Excellent.” Dr Warren nodded, “Good night Ms Whitman.”
“Good night,” Debra turned towards the counter and began her cleanup as her employer strode to the door to meet his guests.
** ** ** ** ** **
The days had lengthened. With nearly two hours before his curfew, the sun was just beginning to sink at the horizon. Spider-man had left the police precinct with an intent to swing his way to Harry’s and straighten out his friend.
The spider-sense was a marvellous ability. It allowed Spider-man to notice threats with more than enough time to react. It was the reason he could spin his webs without looking and keep his path on toward his intended goal. It wasn’t foolproof. When Spider-man didn’t believe he was in trouble and to passive observances, his precognition was less than ideal.
“Spider sighted,” The thug was making a grand to just sit around and watch for Spider-men. The last time he had seen the red and blue he had barely stolen seven hundred dollars. This was a much better gig. He looked down at his cell phone app, “Heading east.”
There were a network of spotters all reporting in. Mason turned to Toomes. “We are ready to begin.”
“Excellent,” Vulture acknowledged. The bay doors rolled up as their weapon started forward. It was a juggernaut. Vulture and Mason had agreed to simply call it the Spider Slayer despite being outvoted by an army of Mysterio bots who rallied behind Beck’s nicknamed: “The Black Widow”. The radio controlled weapon was bulbous. A large oblong abdomen was outfitted with omnidirectional weapon systems. Eight spike legs were hinged so it could land and stabilize on nearly any terrain. They were also heavily armored and easily folded over the entire body to shield any possible damage. The head was outfitted with radar, cameras, motion sensors and laser tracking arrays. Vulture grinned darkly when its aft thrusters started burning. The bay below them obscured in the heat haze as his magnetic flight systems lifted the weapon from the ground. The glass barrier rattled when the rocket ignited and the Spider Slayer flew off into the sunset.
It was never easy to keep an eye on the time and webswing. Peter’s detour to harass Captain Stacy had put him far behind schedule to reach Harry’s. He was worried what his half intentioned agreement was leading to but he was certain that whatever it was, Harry was going all out. Peter sighed as he slipped his Osberry back into his utility belt. He was arching slightly back on the return of his latest swing before he let go and reverted his momentum with his next web line.
“What the?” Spider-man had to quickly fire off a left hand line and slingshot him towards the Empire State Building to avoid the missile. Missile! It exploded in the air not far from where Spider-man had been calculated to be. New York glass and steel rattled all around him. When he collided with the window he had to huff out a wheezing breath and reattach himself to the wall.
He looked into a bank of green fog and grimaced. “Seriously Fishbowl! I’m not going to stop swinging until I know by the crunch that I have punched real face!” Spider-man shouted. His Spider-sense rang out and he dropped as small calibre bullets cracked and spider-webbed the glass he had been resting on. A dozen spent rounds fell harmlessly back from the unbroken window and bounced off his shoulders. The webline was already flying into the green cloud. It connected. Spider-man pulled back and slung himself into the parting cloud of mist.
“Oh, poop,” Spider-man adlibbed as the black and red mass slit the fog bank. It was a glossy black spider with a large cannon rising out of its back. Two rocket launchers were loaded and brought to bear under the abdomen. The minigun was slowly retreating into the right shoulder. A second missile menaced on the left.
The beam was accompanied by a thunderous discharge. A bright yellow square slug of lightning. Spider-man let go, dropping and firing two lines at the spidery legs. The head turned following him. He hit the bottom of his bungee line, intent, to slingshot himself up and into the robot with both feet. He made himself a spear. The tingles came again.
“Oh that’s just not fair!” Spider-man griped as blades extended form the leg ends and cut the webs. Spider-man had to quickly fire off other webs to stop his descent and begin to climb up to the robot’s level.
The Spider Slayer lazily spun on its magnetic flight. It manipulated and extended its legs in an effort to steer. The cannon turned slightly faster. The electric hum signaled another blast for the Spider. This time Spider-man shot his line to the undercarriage of the gun. He was on the upswing and managed to roll outside the mouth of the cannon. He felt his uniform stiffen from the electrical pulse. All the skin on his back tingled with static. He landed on the gun in a crouch.
“Ye-agh!” Spider-man screamed as his hand clanged against the hull. “You really need to see a dermatologist. Your skin’s harder than Rhino’s.”
The bladed legs whipped up to stab him but he cartwheeled forward onto the head. If there was any chink in this thing’s armor it was in the neck joint or in the sensory gear attached to its not unarmed face.
“Oh, they just think of everything these days,” Spider-man needed to twist and roll around the mandibles. They were steaming as they spat gobs of caustic chemicals into the air. Vents were spraying out more green mist. Spider-man was not worried about fighting blind. At this speed and surrounded by this many weapons he was all in on the spider-sense plan. He managed to dodge and act. He dropped one eye in front of the upward camera.
“Hey, Mysterio and whoever your competent tech is, try and catch me now.” Spider-man tore out two antennae like aerials and yanked the lenses off of six cameras. If he had been a man who did cuss, he would have expended his vocabulary. It was like there were no weakness. The cameras just sat in armored recesses with one little hole that barely accepted a wire into the head. He couldn’t punch through it. He had to drop and swing. The eruption of his Spider-sense suggested was becoming overwhelming. Between the leg blades, the acid spit, the minigun and the threat of a cannon right by his head. He decided it was time for a run and regroup strategy. This time he was lucky, he webbed both of the undercarriage RPGs and slingshotted off and away from the fight.
** ** ** ** ** **
“Give me good news Mason!” Vulture was grinding his teeth. His hands gripped the back of Mason’s captain’s chair as several of the their monitors went black.
“He’s taken out the primary visual relays.” Mason explained. “The secondaries are coming online and I’m pulling back the shields now.”
“Don’t just give him more to hit. What about the other sensors?”
“He has crippled but not destroyed the radar system.”
“We are still tracking him?” There was a threat in the question.
“Absolutely. We managed to tag him with one of the Slayer’s tracers. He is currently heading eastward over Midtown.”
“Propulsion’s still online?” Vulture demanded.
“Yes, no weapon or mobility system has been compromised.”
“Then light the rockets and go get him before he finds and ditches the tracer!” Vulture screamed at what he saw as apparent imbecility.
“Right away,” Mason had had better bosses. Chameleon was downright civil. Tombstone had eagerly rewarded his successes. He appreciated Vulture’s passion but he was regretting that criminal empire’s didn’t have a human resources representative to protect them.
** ** ** ** ** **
“First Mysterio and now a flying robot of doom,” Spider-man huffed as he swung hand over hand. His initial intention to run straight for Harry’s apartment was out the window. He had to lose the robot and ditch the Spider theme quickly. “Seriously, I’m giving up on robots. The future is in monkey butlers.”
The ringtone billowing from Spider-man’s pants alerted him to Harry Osborn’s skill at telling time. Spider-man sighed and rolled the mask up over his nose. He hadn’t had the tingles for six minutes and he had no eyes on the weapon. He decided to risk it.
“Hey, Har,” Spider-man webbed the phone to the side of his own face and wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.
“Pete? Where are you?” Harry harrumphed. “We really got to get this done tonight or you’ll be out one girlfriend this weekend.”
“Yeah, about that,” Peter paused nervously, “I don’t think that--”
“Don’t worry about it.” Harry overturned Peter’s half-hearted excuse. “I’m happy to help. Besides there’s that party at Hydra.”
“I don’t know if hitting up some underage club is--”
“Everyone’s going Pete,” Harry decided. “Unless you already asked MJ?”
“No but--”
“Excellent, so are you coming over now?” Harry demanded.
I guess I have to if I’m going to put any stop to this. Peter thought with a grimace. “Yeah, I’ll--Lovely.”
“What is it Pete?” Harry questioned the drop in Peter’s tone. A moment later the connection dropped. Harry fell back into his desk chair. With or without Pete, Harry wasn’t dissuaded. He hadn’t got an explicit no, had he?
Spider-man had managed to hang up the osberry but it was going to be stuck to his mask for some time. The second grenade rocketed passed him. Spider-man twisted like a falling cat so he hit the skyscraper feet first. He yanked the mask down over his face. Brilliant. Spider-man had hoped beyond hope that this could have been a “live to fight another day” scenario. The fight wasn’t ending anytime soon. The green and white light of Oscorp backlit Spider-man. Mason and Vulture grinned at their computer bank when they saw that haloed silhouette.
“No need to concern ourselves with the collaterals here.” Vulture grinned. “I want that spider a red and blue stain and if we have to raze Oscorp to the ground to do it…” Vulture shrugged and pulled his lips back into a sadistic smile.
“No means no!” Spider-man shouted at the robot as he dived into a backflip. The spat fire of the minigun sparking and rattling on his most recent perch.
The Spider Slayer was stoic in its response. The pulse from its cannon left a blackened stain across the bricks previously under Spider-man’s feet. Spider-man couldn’t close the distance. Gobs of caustic slime steamed in passed him and forced him to switch to different lines. “Come on then! I’ll show you what a Spider does to flyers!” There was no way to win the game without changing the board. Spider-man ran down the side of the building. His own wall crawling ability the only hindrance between him and freefall. He was forced to tuck and roll. Dodging and leaping over cannon fire and rocket propelled grenades.
The descent of the Spider Slayer was vertical and swift. It dropped and hovered showing a manoeuvrability that belied its size and not streamlined shape. The weapon remained level. Its legs were kicked and coiled to encourage rotations or right small dips to either side. While the rockets had a rotating turret that allowed them to light Spider-man’s trail in flame and shrapnel. The minigun and cannon were proving worthless provides Spider-man stayed off the Slayer’s main plane.
“Missed! What are you aiming at! My mother shoots cannons better than that!” Taunts seemed to fall on deaf ears. Spider-man almost felt silly for jeering the weapon but he had to stick with what he knew worked. It was time, he was low enough to zigzag across the the street and into Oscorp’s facility. His spider-sense hit a crescendo as the street below erupted chaotic. Several police had arrived and even a news van but they were ducking behind corners and piling up into a Gordian knot to avoid the Spider-Slayer’s path of destruction.
“Get down you idiot!” The newly uniformed Lieutenant DeWolff dragged Sergeant Carter to the ground behind their car. His first shots ricocheted harmlessly off the bottom of the Spider Slayer.
“Thanks, LT.” He smiled up at his partner and she fought a prideful blush. The badge had been given to her this morning. Technically she could have been piloting a desk but she was determined to finish the shifts she had agreed to with Carter.
“No problem, Sergeant,” She popped her head up over the hood of her car. The Spider Slayer and Spider-man were now fully into Oscorp. “I guess we have to hope Spider-man can handle the fight.”
“He will, LT,” Carter really liked using her new title, “He always does.”
Oscorp was a single office tower surrounded by several warehouse sized laboratories and workshops. Distillation towers and other great pieces of chemical and industrial equipment created a stainless steel fortress amidst the outbuildings. Spider-man was using them as ties as he zipped around and out of the way of the barrage of weapons. Click, the first of six spare web cartridges snapped into place. Webs began to whitewash over the Oscorp parking lot.
“What is that idiot doing?” Mason scoffed. Fire, acid and blade were making short work of the massive web Spider-man was failing to spin. “Even if he broke the cameras we still wouldn’t be blind and he can’t be stupid enough to think his webs will catch the Spider Slayer.”
“I wouldn’t underestimate him,” Mysterio announced.
“We’re not,” Vulture assured, “But we are seeing him coming to the end of his web.”
“C’mon you bucket of bolts! Stop trying to hit me and hit me!” Spider-man shouted as he connected two long webs from a radio tower to a delivery van. He dodged forward and just under the minigun hail. He hit the pavement and baseball slid under a pickup truck. and now he was directly under the Spider Slayer. Both wrists fired webs, both had very fresh cartridges. He grabbed the Slayer by its mandibles. With both hands on both tethers he felt his muscles scream and was certain he himself bellowed as he tried to rip open the face of the Spider Slayer. “Oh, here it comes.”
It was all Spider-man could do to skitter out from under the weapon as it landed hard. Several nearby car alarms erupted. Spiderman smelt gas. The bullet barrage at the van must have punctured the gas tank. He eyed the cannon training towards him. The Slayer was beginning to fly and turn towards Spider-man. He vacillated. The van was a bomb he could quite possibly blow the head off the weapon with. However the armored Spider Slayer had proven amazingly resilient and so Spider-man hesitated from going after the vehicle. His webs yanked him out of the way of the cannon blast. If only he had a moment to think, to formulate something he knew would work. He landed against the bay doors of one of the laboratories loading bays. He cartwheeled up and out of the way as the latest rocket blew open the bay doors. He wasn’t wasting this second bit of luck.
“It was great meeting you, but its time I said good-bye!” Spider-man laughed and swung himself in through the bay doors.
“Go in there and get him!” Frothed Toomes.
“If we can track him shouldn’t we just wait until he comes out?” Mysterio was ignored as Mason gunned the propulsion after Spider-man.
Passed the loading area was a mass of boilers and pipes. The air was hot and stifling. Several Vulture’s monitors begun to fog up. “Where is the little twit!”
“I’ve got a lock on him.” Mason grinned gleefully.
“There could have been better buildings,” Spider-man decided when he landed above the oxidizing and under pressure warnings on the first of several reagent tanks. He looked up to see the Spider-Slayer turning to face him. Its shoulder mounted missile raised up from its shell. “Then again, perhaps not.”
Spider-man’s webs shot forth and tagged the mouth of the cannon as the missile’s thrusters ignited. He felt the tailfire sear his butt as he jetted towards the bay doors as the fires of hell detonated behind him.
** ** ** ** ** **
“Thanks, buddy,” Harry scowled at the dropped call message. He fell back into his computer chair. “This probably will make things easier.”
He opened a window for a twenty-four hour florist. He had at least been hoping for Peter to reveal what kind of flowers Liz preferred. He tabbed over to Facebook and rolled his eyes to see who was still online. He smirked as he saw Glory’s name next to a bright green dot.
“Help.” He wrote in the exclusion of uppercase letters and punctuation, “Friend of mine wanted to ask Liz to Hydra party. Wanted to know what flower to boost his chances with.”
The return ding was near instantaneous. “Is this for Peter?”
“How many friends do I have?”
Glory announced through shorthand that she was laughing out loud.
“Facebook says two hundred. But I know what you mean.” Harry waited for a moment for her to continue. “Roses and lilies. But Liz is still pretty angry. Better make it a dozen of each.”
“Cool. Under your hat?”
“Lips are sealed.”
“Thanks.” Harry signed off and tabbed back. Tonight the flowers. Tomorrow in public the chocolates. Peter won’t know what to do and Liz, well, she can take him or leave him.
** ** ** ** ** **
“Where the hell are you? Mr Jameson was flying off the handle. I’m worried about you.” Betty left her fifth voice mail of the day. She dragged her pillow across her lap.
No one had seen Ned all day. His curt exchange with Robbie had said something about Spider-man. That was moments before the news erupted with word of the pitched battle at Oscorp. She was terrified. Ned was the kind of man who was up to his neck in danger just to get a little closer to Spider-man or the Goblin. She looked at the clock. She wasn’t getting sleep anytime soon. She looked at her phone.
That night she spent more on delivery than she had in the last few months. And yet, the comfort food was little comfort. Staring at the ceiling, her cellphone resting under her right hand so that the moment it vibrated with Ned’s call she’d have it to her ear.
Closing her eyes and being no closer to sleep she said aloud: “I think I hate reporters.”
** ** ** ** ** **
“Listen to your father, you little tart!” MJ turned to face her father. In her hand she increased the television volume with the remote.
“The explosion was massive! Neither Spider-man nor the robot have been seen since the west side of Oscorp had collapsed in the--” MJ turned to the screen and her fair skin ran pale. Peter. The pictures she had seen this morning still iced her insides. She dropped the remote and tried to push past her father. He grabbed her by the upper arm.
“You do not step out on me when I am educating you, girl,” His voice growled inches before her face.
“Don’t rile up you father, Mary,” Her mother said from the kitchen doorway as MJ stepped back and wrenched her arm from her father’s grip.
“Peter’s--”
“This rebellion is all about you getting some dick?” Her father was red-faced. Veins rose on his throat and forehead. He reached for his belt. “Perhaps I should fix you like I did your mother.”
Mary was surprised her shin didn’t crack with the force she swung into his crotch. Windless and boneless, her father dropped. MJ ran passed her mother to her room. She grabbed her schoolbag and the suitcase she kept under her bed for when she really had to go to Aunt Anna’s. She didn’t give her mother a second look when she pleaded for her daughter to apologize. The door slammed shut behind her. The tears that threatened were for Peter, her dad didn’t deserve any more of hers.
** ** ** ** ** **
“Neither Spider-man nor the robot have been seen since the west side of Oscorp had collapsed in the fireball. With the mountain of brick and steel on top of them, our experts are not hopeful. Emergency response is waiting for bomb squad support before--Wait, the rock and brick are moving. Its--” Liz yawned. She clicked to the next channel.
She turned her head slightly when the buzzer buzzed. Shrugging her shoulders she settled deeper in the couch cushions. The buzz came again. She pulled her textbook from the next cushion across her lap and shut off the TV.
“Dad! Someone’s at the door!” She shouted through the apartment. She was not in the mood to deal with whoever needed her dad this late. Sighing, the hotel owner came out of the other room and crossed the room to the wall panel.
“Yes?” He asked pushing in the button.
“Delivery for Miss Elizabeth Allan.” Squawked the voice on the other side.
“This late?” He sighed. Looking over through the living room he looked at his daughter. He really needed to talk to her about her online shopping habits. The credit card he had trusted her with had been for emergencies. “Come on up.” He pushed in the door release button and crossed the room. His determination left him. He already had one kid in jail. Liz was a good kid and she was not going anywhere near that road. If she had wanted to buy something for herself every couple of months it wasn’t going to break his bank.
“Door’s for you, princess,” He explained walking behind her on the couch. “Your mom and I are going to bed. Get the door if you have any more packages coming.”
“Packages?” Liz asked confused. She slipped her books off her lap again. “I didn’t order anything--”
But her dad had shrugged and had started down the hallway to his bedroom. Liz had a second of consideration. she was only wearing a long jersey and her panties. She slipped her feet into the fuzzy slippers by the couch. She brushed her limp hair with her fingers as the knock came at the door.
She looked through the peephole to see a man in a white cap and yellow shirt. He had a large paper wrapped package under his left arm and a clipboard rapping out some rhythm that only he was privy too. Liz opened the door.
“Miss Allan?” He asked. Unprofessionally admiring her legs. Liz’s eyes were on the package, questioning what it could possibly be.
“Yes that’s me,” Liz looked up to see the delivery man’s eyes were they ought to be.
“From someone special,” He flourished a bright smile and handed her the paper.
“Thank you,” She mumbled and closed the door as he turned to leave. she immediately locked the door behind her and rushed over to the kitchen counter.
She wasn’t an idiot. She could tell from holding it and the conical shape that she was holding a bouquet. She ripped the paper open and her eyes grew wide and her mouth opened in a gasp. It was a beautiful arrangement of twelve roses mixed with thirteen lilies. The center Lily had a sky blue dye inside its petals and there was a small card pinned to it. Liz had to slow her hands as her first grab for the card would have immediately beheaded the flower.
“Liz, for all the times I was wrong. You’re more special that I could even believe. I want to make amends for what I did, I want to love you again, I want you to have me. Petey.”
Liz was literally jumping and giggling. She couldn’t believe it. First he threw off MJ and now he was directly wanting her back. She had to call him. She had to find him. First she was going to put these into water. It was lovely. She was smelling the bouquet, not quite containing her excited glee.
** ** ** ** ** **
“We’re still responsive,” Mason reported for the thirteenth time.
“But we’re immobile!” Toomes pounded his fist onto the display case.
“Why don’t we fire the grenades?” Beck suggested.
“Have you ever exploded a firecracker in your fist, Mr Beck?” Adrian Toomes turned on who he saw as the weak link in their conspiracy. Mysterio waggled ten fingers in the negative.
“But these are just flimsy bone and skin.” He pointed out. “We armored The Black Widow so Molten Man couldn’t get through its shell.”
“He’s not wrong, Adrian,” Mason pointed out with some tiredness. “We loosen the rubble and maybe we could punch through with the rockets.”
“Chances of success?” Adrian grinned.
“Infinitely better than leaving it buried.” Mason pointed out.
“I want the magnetics pushing up with everything.” Adrian adjusted the the inputs on the control panel before him. Mason armed the RPGs. Beck took a step back so he could watch the show on the five black monitors.
“Fire in the hole!” Mysterio announced as Mason moved his fingers to the launch button. Toomes turned and grimaced at the actor. “I always wanted to say that.”
Mason sighed. Black monitors flashed, red white, and brown. Swirling fluorescent lit dust clouds appeared midst dark grey brick borders. Toomes slammed the the rockets command. This response was more explosive. Rock and mortar burst and billowed off the dinged and battered hull as the Spider Slayer broke out and into the New York night.
“Yes! Fucking yes!” Celebrated Beck like his team had just scored the winning touchdown with seconds left in the fourth.
“Good work gentlemen,” Vulture steepled his fingers and leaned back into his chair. “Now let’s kill us a hero.”
** ** ** ** ** **
“Sir, I’d really appreciate it if you stepped back.” Jason had little control over his employer. Politeness was a last ditch effort to keep the perfume magnate from climbing over the rubble towards the wrecked outbuilding.
Police and cleanup crews were sectioning off areas. Reporters, ambulance chasing lawyers, and slack jawed spectators were crowding wherever they could find room.
“If you’re worried about what I’m getting into, keep up,” Kingsley huffed. Since his first run in with Spider-man things had become complicated. Manfredi was rising to power and she knew all about him and his ambitious nature. Rhino had stomped his 500 million purchase into powder. That bitch Vaughn-Pope wouldn’t take her settlement and shut up. Jason had been the first step in solidifying his position of control in New York. Oscorp had been second. He had felt like a king overlooking his filthy subjects the first minute he had taken over Osborn’s top floor office. He was beginning to think conquering the world was harder work than he had imagined. He needed something more. There were so many accounting loose ends and buried funding in the books he was certain he would have struck gold by now.
Now Oscorp had been attacked. There were no reported injuries. The only employee who should have been near the building that had collapsed was security and he was unscathed keeping back that Asian Bugle reporter. The one who had come to the Oscorp commencement with that Spider-man photographer.
“Jason, the man from the Bugle?” Kingsley tilted his head.
“Ned Lee,” Jason confirmed. “His articles lately have been following Spider-man and the so-called supercriminals.”
“Good,” Kingsley nodded, “He’ll do fine. Let him in and give him an exclusive.”
The point had been too fold. As much as he felt that Jason was needed he was sick of the mother hen routine. Of course, the man was quite capable. He wouldn’t have the job without. When Jason radioed their security man at the police tape, Kingsley gave a gruff sigh. Macendale followed him as he approached Morris Bench his clean-up crew.
“Boss says you get a pass,” The black security guard lifted the tape for Ned to pass. Immediately the other vultures descended on the guard.
“Hey why’s he get to go in?” “I was here first!” “Hey if there’s a story to be told Fox news will tell it better.” The security guard groaned. His job was so much easier when all he had to say was no. One yes and he was going to get dragged around all night.
“The devastation is contained to the single outbuilding,” Ned Lee spoke into his voice recorder. He ignored the vibrating phone in his breast pocket and continued. “Mr Kingsley is on the scene overseeing the cleanup and mitigation his team is providing. He seems to be welcome, oversight of a compassionate boss.”
Ned approached Roderick and found himself eye to meat with the black tie personal security man. “Excuse me, I was wondering if Mr Kingsley had a statement?”
“Mr Kingsley?” Jason looked back over his shoulder. His boss had let the newsman enter the wreck. Jason expected the man to have a plan.
“Yes, of course,” Roderick grabbed Bench by the shoulder and encouraged him to work fast and safely. “Mr Lee was it?”
“Yes, Ned Lee, Daily Bugle,” Ned managed not to be surprised by the foreknowledge of Kingsley. “Tell me what happened here.”
“Well, Spider-man began the fight with the robotic spider somewhere in Midtown. The fight carried to here and ended in this climax. I am uncertain as to which of Spider-man’s many enemies would have the resources or skills to produce such a weapon. I just hope that my men are right and nobody has been hurt.”
“So you don’t believe that this attack arriving at Oscorp was the motivation of the fight?”
“No, but based on the extent of the destruction I feel this may have been a serendipitous set of circumstances for the weapon.” Kingsley managed to look tired. “Osborn’s forays into the criminal are well known. Doctor Octopus is said to have started here and the Vulture’s vendetta against Osborn has been well documented. However, naming names or pointing fingers would certainly be circumspect of me.”
“You mentioned that all of the employees were accounted for?”
“Yes, the factory destroyed was fully automated. Our security man was luckily passed this part of his rounds at the time of the fight.”
“That is very good news,” Ned Lee agreed. “May I look around?”
“If you don’t get in the way of the police or the cleanup crew,” Kingsley waved Ned Lee onward.
“Thank you sir,” Ned assured gratefully, “Good luck in getting this sorted out.”
“Mr Lee,” Kingsley smiled. “A man of my means is forced to make his own luck.”
Ned pocketed his recorder and started off towards the wreck. Jason turned to Kingsley, “Is this wise sir?”
“The Bugle is an established piece of New York history.” Kingsley responded, “The media was going to get their teeth on this bone either way. I feel it most prudent to had the reigns to the people most likely to put the mess on Spider-man’s shoulders and as far from mine as possible.”
Jason looked suitably impressed. He shrugged as Kingsley turned and began his own rounds of the damage site.
He stood over the breached rubble. This was where the robot had escaped from. Reports were sending it towards Queens. The further away from him the better he decided. This was a goldmine. The collapse revealed, by shattering the concrete floor a sub-basement. Judging by the decals and signage, it was for little used laboratories. It was a tight fit but he managed to slip in and through the mess. He was immediately told to step back, to step away. He had no intention of listening. He dropped the last few feet. He landed half on a slab of stone and nearly collapsed as it gave out. The voice overhead was clucking madly again. He had fallen into a gold mine. To the left were glass and steel doors. Marked for dangerous chemicals. A heat resistant plastic mold was tubed off to empty vats marked for high-chain polymer, liquid steel and nanofiber fluids. To the right were double doors. One side cracked and broken off its hinges, it limped to one side only vertical because of the chain that reinforced its lock. He lifted as he stepped inside. The lightswitch didn’t respond, he was forced to take out his mobile phone and load up the free flashlight he had downloaded.
“Unbelievable…” He groaned wide-eyed. Racks of pumpkin bombs, yellow brown Goblin suits of unpainted kevlar, four Tech-Flight gliders, sheets of wing-bladed throwing knives. This was the motherlode. He had found it. Finally.
** ** ** ** ** **
Forest Hills had never looked so beautiful. The flood lights of the street lamps and the warm families in warm houses with warm beds and cool pillows. Spider-man was looking forward to waking up in the middle of the night and rolling his pillow over just to go back to sleep with that comfort against his ear.
He was only twelve blocks from home when the tingles started again. “What?” He seethed. “How does it keep showing up? Now I know what Sandman was whining about.”
Peter Parker landed in the middle of the street and looked up at the weapon. “Come and get me! I’m ending this here!”
Mary Jane Watson had thrust the last of her money into the hand of the cabby as she pulled up in front of her Aunt Anna’s. Her favorite relative looked up from the conversation she was having with May. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight dear.”
“Yeah, I know but--”
“No buts,” Anna shook her head. She knew that suitcase and knew it was better for MJ to tell her than for her to interrogate the girl. “Your room’s as you left it.”
“Thank you,” MJ walked up and hugged her aunt. She turned to May. “Is Peter home?”
“I was hoping you knew where he was.” May growled, “He’s usually quite good about calling when he’s nearing curfew but I can’t get ahold of him.”
“Uh--” MJ grew pale. She wished she had heard that entire new report. What was happening? He couldn’t be dead. Oh my god! Tears threatened when Flash shouted.
“Hey, Mary, did you hear? Spider-man’s fighting some sort of flying tank down the road.”
“What?” MJ twisted. Her bags dropped onto Anna’s porch.
“Mary Jane where are you going?” Anna blanched as she witnessed Mary Jane rush down. The girl grabbed Flash’s wrist and begun hurrying down towards where the booms had started.
“You call the cops and tell them,” May acted, “I’ll go bring the stupid children back.”
Spider-man weaved between the first two rockets. He was frustrated. He had thrown everything he could find at the tank and all it had suffered were several dozen scratches. Most of which must have occurred at the Oscorp battle. “I never thought I’d miss Mysterio’s robots. Why can’t they make them like they used to?”
The redhead had led the quarterback to the ring of police cars. A lieutenant was just arriving on the scene and she was busy trying to shout at her people into position. MJ moved to charge right by her squad car.
“Mary Jane stop!” Flash’s leg gave out as he swept up the panicked redhead in a bear hug. They tumbled onto the street. “Shit! Ow! No, I’m not letting go!”
“Flash! It’s Peter!”
“Peter! What about Peter!” May rushed over to the collapsed teenagers and sunk down into a frog squat. “Mary Jane what’s wrong?”
“Peter’s--” She couldn’t say. Some secrets save lives, Peter truly believed if May knew he would just be endangering her. “Peter’s taking pictures and--”
“Peter quit the Bugle,” Flash and May said at once.
“He hasn’t stopped taking pictures.” She lied and tears welled up in her eyes, “He’s going to get hurt.”
Flash, with May’s help, managed to sit back onto the curb. He didn’t let go of MJ who was still wild and terrified. “Give me your phone.”
Flash fished MJ’s phone from her pocket and handed it to May. She immediately hammered in Peter’s number and called him. She hoped he would answer a call from MJ because he hadn’t taken her two calls. She was terrified, how could he be so stupid? It was bad enough when he was getting paid but to be going after the masked vigilante for what? Entertainment? That was something she couldn’t accept.
Spider-man’s phone rang with MJ’s ringtone from his utility belt. She couldn’t be that needy. There were police and news crews walling in his battlefield. Surely, she knew what was going on right now. Peter ignored the phone call. This was getting crazy. The Spider-Slayer hovered in the middle of the street. The roar of its minigun followed Spider-man as he rushed around in a circle. He tried to keep the bullets aimed low. The pavement was chewed up. As of yet no stray shots had started rattling through the neighborhood houses.
“C’mon, clunker! You gotta hit me some time!” Which was undeniably true. Superstrength or no, he was going to get tired, careless or just unlucky. He hopped against a news van and yelled neener neener neener at the flying death machine. The reporters fled. Smart, Spider-man was jealous. He jumped, flipping sideways as the minigun chewed up the side of the vehicle. Spider-man landed over the six-barrelled chain loaded gun and hollered as the weapon burned his hands. He grunted as he reached in and grabbed the belt of bullets hauling back as the weapon was neutralized with a metallic snap. He had almost no time to flip out from where the bladed leg kicked up in the aim of his decapitation.
“One down, now just to take out the swords, bombs, acid and cannon. Oh and look at that, it still has a missile. It’s like my birthday.” Spider-man groaned. He landed on the pavement with a light splash. Without his wallcrawling powers the slick ground would have unbalanced him and he would have fallen on his ass. He jumped aside, the smell of gasoline permeated the smoke heavy air.
“Hey, how often do I get a second chance?” Asked Spider-man looking at the van. He listened to his spider-sense ducking under the latest belch of acid. He immediately rolled into a forward cartwheel. He landed and jumped forward. He lowered himself down on the head. He pressed his eye to one of the remaining cameras. “I hope you’ve got good seats, because the finale is going to be a blast.”
“What is the arachnid talking about?” Vulture growled at the camera. Tinkerer aimed the cannon and fired. The blast rang out less than a second after Spider-man had disappeared. The crack of thunder boomed over their loudspeakers. Vulture’s eyes scanned the monitors. There was no Spider-man. “Find him! Kill him!”
“Hoo, that was close,” Spider-man rested on the far side of compromised news van. Some people believed that shooting the gas tank of vehicle made it explode. That’s Hollywood magic, a bullet into the gas tank will just cost you several bucks worth of leaked fuel. But hit a perforated gas tank with an RPG, then you got something.
The Spider Slayer slowly stalked in a widening circle hunting for the Spider-man. The Spider waited, leading the robot into his trap. When the first of the Spider Slayer’s legs cut the radio array off the top of the news van, Spider-man acted.He caught the red appendage with his webs and hauled himself up and over the van.
“There he is!” Mad-eyed Vulture slammed his hand down on the attack command. Acid, claws and grenades closed on Spider-man. Mason looked on with glee. Only Beck showed hesitation, only Mysterio expected the ruse.
The weapons collided together as Spider-man landed in a frog squat under the Spider Slayer and vaulted forward with all the power in his legs. The fireball was smaller than at Oscorp. But the direction of the blast slammed the van up and into the undercarriage of the Spider Slayer. Spider-man kept running as the robot tumbled and shook. The Spider Slayer did a barrel roll. It flipped just over two hundred degrees landing hard into the middle of the street. This explosion rivaled Oscorp. The Spider Slayer landed hard and flat down onto its missile. Spider-man only managed to get on the other side of a beat up Ford and duck his head as the windows blew out overhead.
“What just happened?” Toomes went pale as the all of his monitors winked out at once.
“We underestimated Spider-man.” Mysterio turned and stalked away from the geniuses.
Dizzy and battered, Spider-man rose up onto his feet. The air was polluted with the flash of red and blue. Spider-man saw the head of the Spider Slayer was still shaking back and forth. Its acid leaking over its upside down face and scoring deep into the camera recesses. Spider-man rushed over and yelled. “How! How did you follow me here!”
He brought his heel down hard onto the previously indestructible armor. The metallic crunch alerted him. He pulled his foot away and noticed the broken white plastic and stripped wires. “What is this?”
He recognized components: transistors, inductors and resistors. The wreckage told him nothing. He quickly searched around. Much of the machine had been gutted in the second explosion. However, at the based of the neck, where Spider-man had expected weakness he found the box. There were dozens of the little sticky bastards. Spider-man punched and tore out the box. They were connected to a GPS tracker. That was immediately smashed under his fist.
“What are you taking from there!” Lieutenant DeWolfe accused.
“Ah, let him keep it,” Sergeant Stan said as Spider-man tossed a web out and immediately moved to escape. DeWolfe kept her sidearm trained on Spider-man until he disappeared over the nearest home. “Do you really want to be the one who goes after whoever made this?”
“Fine,” She holstered her weapons, “C’mon, looks like we’re going door to door. Make sure no one needs the EMTs.”
** ** ** ** ** **
“Hey Captain,” Sergeant Stan Carter greeted his superior with a tired grimace, “When are Morrie and the boys getting out here?”
“We can’t wait for Oscorp’s team.” Captain Stacy announced to the officers and fireman who had gathered around the headless dreadnought. “They’re still knee deep in their own rubble. This is Alistair Smythe he will be directing Tri-Corp’s cleanup of the weapon.”
Alistair slalomed his wheelchair through captain and sergeant. His face was an unforgiving mask of excitement. A pretty dark cop lifted the police tape for him to pass. He never looked once at her. His team of rubber suited specialists hurried to keep up.
“Sir! You really should be further back.” The first man stopped at his his shoulder. “There are still live munitions and--” He saw that his director was wheeling further forward. He picked up a small collection of electronics that was slightly damaged from acid. The team member tried again. “Sir, what would Mr Smythe say?”
“Right now,” Alistair widened a bright grin, “Mr Smythe is telling you to bag everything as whole and undamaged as you can.”
“The police--”
“Catalogue everything. I don’t want you to leave a bolt behind.” Alistair turned over the component in his hand. This was incredible and yet cobbled together by clubbed fingers and weak minds. In his hands… He turned and rolled back through the tape.
“Behind a desk tomorrow,” The dark skinned cop promised herself in a steady mantra as she jumped her feet from the path of Smythe’s wheel. “LT DeWolff.”
“Captain?” Smythe looked up to Stacy and immediately appreciated the man. The policeman didn’t even see the wheelchair, just the man and what the man needed to do. There were too many men like that. Alistair believed himself to be that kind of man. “We will be transporting the materials to Tri-corp.”
“Excellent, I’ll attach Officers O’Neill and Gonzales to our forensics team.” Captain Stacy surveyed the area and decided that he should move along and check out the other battlegrounds. “Do you think we’ll be able to figure out who created this?”
“I haven’t checked the processor or the communications equipment, but I am confident in my ability to trace it back to its source.”
** ** ** ** ** **
“Up to your room, now Peter!” May wasn’t often angry and Peter wasn’t quite sure how much worse it felt to see her this livid versus barely surviving a fight with a robotic killing machine.
“Good night, Aunt May,” Peter said defeated. He turned towards the stairs. His Osberry erupted with Liz’s ringtone.
“Give me your phone, Peter,” Aunt May held out her hand. Her eyes were flat and angry as Peter put the device into her hand. He turned back to the stairs. He stopped several steps up as he heard his Aunt answer his phone.
“Hello Liz, I just wanted to tell you that it is too late for you to be calling.”
“Oh, I know, and I am sorry Ms Parker its just I learned that Peter did something very nice for me and I wanted to thank him right away.”
“Well I’m glad that Peter had broken his curfew doing something for a nice girl,” Aunt May side sitting down at the kitchen table, “However, we had an agreement and he broke it. I’m afraid I’ve suspended his phone privileges.”
“Oh,” Liz didn’t know what to say, “Will he still be able to tutor me this weekend?”
“He will. I’m not going to cost you your grades because of my nephew’s inconsiderate nature,” May agreed. Liz sighed relief. May recognized the sounds of attraction in the young woman’s voice. She felt the need to speak. “However, he is grounded, when you are done studying he is coming straight home.”
“I can work with that,” Liz smiled, “Thank you Aunt May. And tell Peter thank you for the flowers.”
“I will, go to sleep Elizabeth. It is a school night.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Liz sounded as if she had just been sat up straight. “Good Night, May.”
“Good night.” May put the phone down on the table. Silently, she asked Ben for the strength she needed. She felt better knowing he had given Peter such a firm base to build from. Peter was a good boy but the fear he had put into herself and Mary Jane Watson wasn’t going to go away very quickly.
Next Law 308 - Appeal
Author’s Note:
This chapter is dedicated to Pixagi. Everything I get right about New York comes from her. Everything I get wrong is totally because I can make assumptions and can be impatient.
I want to thank Raizen Yusuke for his words about my troubles with Doctor Octopus. I always love to hear from you, it’s great when the little things, like even the chapter names are noticed. I am looking forward to hearing more from you and from any of my readers who has anything to say about my work.
Two story arcs finished! Truthfully, in Weisman’s hands, I had expected the four parter in this season to be centered on a different villain but I required this story arc to even my keel. (that’s why episode six was such a splurge of straight exposition.) The next story arc is one I’ve been looking forward to for a long time, and yet I’m already impatient to get passed it to the season ender (which is another speed bump before another arc). My author’s note ends here lest there be spoilers.
I am excited to announce that I have planned out all the remaining episodes and story arcs, giving myself enough wiggle room that I’ll still be making discoveries and have fun with it for the foreseeable future. I’ve got big plans for Kraven, Chameleon, Smythe, Goblins and Tombstone. I’ve got things that you’re going to hate, things that you’re going to question and things that you’re going to love. I am looking forward to Peter’s ongoing clusterfuck with Gwen, Liz, MJ, and Black Cat.
- 6
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Spectacular Spider-man Seasons 3, 4 and 5