Chapter Text
“Hurry it up,” the man said. “Cough up the cash and ain’t nobody gotta get hurt.”
Trying to ignore the shotgun pointed at her face, the aging cashier forced her trembling hands to comply, tossing loose bills from the register into a duffle bag set upon the counter.
One of the man’s partners approached the bag, trying to gauge how big of a haul they were about to pull.
“Hey, what the… this is just pocket change!” he exclaimed, gesturing at the bag, now containing a small handful of hundred dollar bills.
“I-It’s all we have,” the woman sputtered out, almost paralyzed with fear. “Please, I swear!”
The man wielding the shotgun grimaced beneath his mask, eying the bag and then the register, seemingly confirming her pleas.
“Y-uh, guys, I hear the feds comin’,” the gang’s third member interjected. The two at the counter shared a glance, nodding in agreement. The first man grabbed the bag, throwing the strap over his shoulder.
“We’re gettin’ outta here,” calling to his men as he sprinted out the entrance of the small store. “Move it!”
No sooner than the moment the man’s right foot hit the pavement outside, he found he was suddenly and quickly hoisted up, up into the air by his left foot. And there, 10 feet above the ground, upside down, he slowly rotated, dangling, until he was face-to-face with an all too familiar costumed vigilante, perched upon the streetlight.
“Now, I know there’s no honor among thieves and everything,” the wallcrawler began, “but robbing a mom and pop store in Queens? I mean, that’s gotta be a new low.”
Unseen by the men, a camera quickly went to work, snapping photo after photo of the scenario playing out on the street before it.
On the ground below, the man’s partners groaned in frustration.
“SPIDER-MAN?!” they cried.
“Well,” he replied, preparing to leap, “it sure ain’t Daredevil!”
With one swift motion, he jumped from the pole, away from the two men, extending both wrists. His aiming was surgical as he immediately hit both men in the chest with a strand of webbing to a loud pair of thwips. Using his weight and momentum, the two were lifted off the ground like a pulley, with the streetlight serving as the fulcrum.
Landing with a ballerina’s grace, Spider-Man quickly and deftly peppered the trio with small blasts of webbing until they were all adequately attached to the pole. He then reached over to pick up the discarded bag full of cash, dropped clumsily by the petty crooks.
The young hero immediately went inside, dropping the bag on the counter with a small thud.
“I do believe this belongs to you, miss.” The cashier pulled herself up from behind the counter, unable to believe her eyes.
“Spider-Man?!” She shook her head in disbelief, before a relieved smile overtook her face. “You-you’ve saved our business! If we lost that money, we’d have to-”
The hero put up a hand to stop her. “Hey, no need to worry about that now. I’m always lookin’ out for the little guy.”
Without further ado, he turned out the door and prepared to leap up into the air.
Though just before he left the ground, he heard alarm bells ring, and an old familiar feeling invaded his skull.
“Spider-Sense,” he thought to himself.
His gaze immediately darted to the three men on the pole, which he noted were still bound and wriggling. He then scanned the streets, which were empty aside from the usual crowd of sightseers. Finally, glancing towards the rooftops around him, he saw nothing but a flock of pigeons taking to the sky.
“Huh… doesn’t look like anything’s about to shoot, stab, or impale me…”
Shaking it off, he sprung from the ground acrobatically, sticking to the wall behind him. He wasted no time retrieving his trusty camera from its web, glancing around once more to be extra sure.
“I think I’m good, but-”
His thoughts ground to a halt as his eyes passed over a street clock, just opposite the street he was on.
“Oh for the LOVE of …” His hand quickly shot out away from him, firing a webline. “Just once -” leaping from the wall and swinging through the air, “would I like to be on time for something!”
However, hidden silently in an alley just across the street stood a shady man, watching the web-slinger with intense focus. Sliding a hand in the pocket of his trenchcoat, he retrieved his cellphone with a sigh, dialing a familiar number once again.
“Yeah, it’s me,” the man spoke, seemingly disappointed. “Bad news. I still ain’t seen the Parker kid yet.”
---
At that same moment, far away from the site of the now-foiled robbery, a man stood in a rapidly rising elevator.
He was nigh elderly, somewhere in his mid fifties, with deep wrinkles and dull gray hair to prove it. The outfit he wore gave the impression of a scientist; a snow white lab coat draped over a vest and tie, completed with neat slacks and dress shoes. Though, despite his physical appearance, he was still mentally fit and sound as ever. As a matter of fact, he was one of if not the brightest mind in the entire field of robotics.
He was sure of that.
And he was in a pretty good mood, for that matter.
The elevator stopped, punctuated with a soft ding, and the doors slid open, revealing a cavernous office area.
It was a relatively nondescript area, tinted in cool blues with black and white tiles situated in large patterns. There were a few columns supporting the roof, alongside glass standees scattered around the room.
The standout feature in the room, was of course, the thick polished wood desk on the far, opposite end. It looked as though it was carved right out of the trunk of a redwood.
And yet, the desk was not what immediately grabbed one’s attention.
Just beyond the desk, staring out the window, stood an absolute mountain of a man. Nearly seven feet tall and almost four-hundred pounds, his presence radiated power and commanded respect. He wore a tailor-made white suit, hand resting upon an exquisite cane, topped off with a large crystal clear gem.
“Mr. Smythe,” the man’s deep voice boomed. “I trust you bring good news?”
The other man had exited the elevator, calmly walking towards the center of the room.
“Yes, indeed.” A small smile formed on his face. “Testing on the unit has just been completed. We now need only a suitable user.”
“Excellent,” replied the other man, maintaining his statue-like composure. “Reach out to our selection of candidates. I expect an update before noon.”
The aging roboticist grimaced, almost unnoticeably so. “Noon?” he thought to himself. That would be a close squeeze… however, he felt he could manage all the same.
He then turned back, heading once more to the elevator.
“As you wish, Mr. Fisk.”
---
High above the city streets, a young window washer was hard at work. Supported by a small platform, he silently washed and rinsed with zen-like focus, his headphones drowning out the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple.
As he sprayed a hefty heaping of cleaner on the foggy window, he wiped it off just in time to see the reflection of a lithe red and blue blur streak by behind him.
That same red and blue blur was also in an incredible hurry.
Clutching tightly on a thin strand of webbing, he swings down low just before arcing straight back up. Right as he reaches the apex of his swing, he releases the web, catapulting himself forward through the air. Falling down to mere feet above the ground, he fires another line of webbing, swinging and slicing carefully and quickly through the gaps between cars stuck in traffic.
“I’m only twenty minutes late, and considering my usual track record, that’s actually on the better side of things!”
Spider-Man kept his pace, deftly and acrobatically web-swinging like his life depended on it.
“Oh, who am I kidding? Jonah’s gonna tear me to shreds the second he lays his beady little eyes on me.”
Once again, he rises up into the air, firing another web with a loud thwip.
“Not like Peter Parker getting the short end of the stick is anything out of the ordinary. Especially lately. I broke Liz’s heart like a total jerk, Harry lost his dad because of me, and I can’t even be with Gwen.”
Thwip.
“I know how Harry feels though. The whole reason I became Spider-Man was so other people wouldn’t have to suffer how I did losing Uncle Ben, and yet… I still couldn’t do anything.”
Thwip.
“What’s more, he totally blames Spider-Man for it. Heck, maybe he’s right… That’s how I’ve been feeling about it.”
And with a final thwip, Spider-Man was within landing distance of his destination. Swinging wide, he dove down and straight into a conveniently placed alley.
A few dozen feet away, a rather angry looking man stood, tapping his foot impatiently. He tugs on the sleeve of his slick suit, checking his watch. He then groans in anger.
“Where the blazes is Parker?!” he wonders aloud through gritted teeth. Fortunately, the massive crowd gathered around city hall was focused more on other matters.
The event being attended was organized by some introverted wealthy philanthropist who intended to become more of a public figure going forward. After the Green Goblin’s latest reign of terror and destruction, he wanted to lay out his plans on how he’d be helping the city.
Sure enough, countless papers and reporters flocked in droves, all in an attempt to be the first to capture the exclusive.
The Daily Bugle was no exception, with J. Jonah Jameson front and center. Though, he did seem to be short on photographers at the moment, causing much of his distress and anger.
“Hey, wow, uh, sorry, Mr. Jameson, you would not BELIEVE the traffic out there! I-It’s gotta be backed up for blocks!” The weathered publisher snapped his head around to see none other than Peter Parker sauntering beside him, camera at the ready. He then took a deep breath.
“PAAARKERRR!!!”
“Yep, there’s the ol’ Jolly Jonah we all know and love...” Peter thought.
“I have HALF A MIND to fire you and kick your sorry keister to the curb in half a second! Matter of fact, the only reason I’ve exercised such extreme restraint is that for SOME reason you were the only photographer worth a darn I could get for today!”
His angry tirade now seemingly over, Jameson leaned back out of Peter’s face and adjusted his collar.
“‘Sides, looks like you got lucky. The fat cat’s late himself,” pointing at the glaringly empty podium. Peter’s face turned into slight confusion.
“Huh. Whaddya know?”
“I might just have the makings of a millionaire yet,” he thought.
“Ah, forget about that Parker,” Jameson mused, pointing excitedly at the podium. “There he is!” Peter glanced up once more, finally seeing the star of the show.
Sure enough, Wilson Fisk appeared, waving politely to the crowd.
“So that’s... Wilson Fisk, huh? Geez, he looks like he could snap a telephone pole like a toothpick.”
“Hey, make sure you’re getting this Parker! Do NOT miss any front page material!” Peter snapped out of his thoughts, peeking through the viewfinder of his camera once more.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Jameson, I’m getting it,” punctuated with multiple camera flashes.
Fisk quickly took the stand, and tapped the microphone once, testing it.
“My fellow New Yorkers,” his commanding voice rang out, broadcasted through the several loudspeakers. “I would first like to sincerely apologize for my delay. It was not my intention to waste your precious time, so I will be sure to make this prompt and precise.
“For far too long, the rich and mighty elite of this city have kept a spectatorial role, preferring to sit back in their ivory towers and continue to profit off the common man for the foreseeable future.” Fisk then took a deep breath.
“Of course, I too am guilty of such a crime. I felt it was best not to interfere with the people who brought me such wealth; I felt that said wealth would prevent a true connection or understanding, as I feared many would consider me out of touch from the everyman.
“However, I will stand back no longer.” His hands moved, gripping both sides of the small podium. “After the psychotic Green Goblin’s attacks and destruction made their way to my very neighborhood, I finally witnessed firsthand the struggles many experience on a daily basis. It was a… wake up call, of sorts.” He released the podium.
“That is why, from this moment forward, I intend to use my vast wealth to the fullest potential. As soon as this hearing is finished, I will be making hefty donations to important pillars of our city, first and foremost beginning with the New York Police Department.”
No sooner than the moment Fisk ended his sentence, the majority of the crowd began clapping and cheering. Peter was quick with his camera, making sure to capture plenty of good photos of this pivotal moment.
“Wow, he sounds like a real stand-up guy… so why do I still have the feeling he’s just blowing hot air?” Peter wondered.
---
The front door’s lock opened with a loud click, breaking the apartment’s silence. It swung open, and in walked police captain George Stacy. Dropping his keys on the counter and his coat on the rack, he found it hard to hide his smile.
“Gwen honey, you home?”
Down the hall, he heard a reply alongside approaching footsteps.
“I’m here, dad,” speaking softly. George turned from the fridge to face her, bottle of water in hand.
“You’re not gonna believe this,” his smile grew. “The department just got a huge donation from Mr. Fisk.” Gwen had a look of slight disbelief.
“How big of a donation was it?”
“We’re gonna be able to get top of the line equipment, across the board,” breaking out into a full grin. “And we’ll still have plenty of extra.” The captain’s daughter softly laughed in joy.
“Dad, that’s amazing! Now you won’t have to rely on all that beat-up gear.”
He pointed his bottle at her. “Right you are. Safety is always first.” He then took a hefty swig as Gwen stood, lingering a bit awkwardly.
He didn’t need his keen police instincts to tell something was bothering his very own daughter.
“Is something bothering you, sweetie?” She flashed a sad, defeated smile.
“You can really read me like a book, huh?”
“What kind of father would I be if I couldn’t?”
“True,” she admitted. “Well… I guess I’m just still not sure what to do about Harry.”
George frowned, remembering how the young man lost his father mere weeks ago. The captain was no stranger to loss himself, seeing countless injuries and even deaths in the field; even more than that, his beloved wife had died when Gwen was barely a teenager.
“Dad...?”
He snapped out of his momentary trance.
“Sorry... I was just caught up in the past for a minute.” Silence filled the air for a few moments. He then took a small breath.
“You have a good heart, Gwen. Much better than mine. I’m sure of that. But there’s no reason you have to keep yourself in a relationship like that just so he won’t be upset.”
“But his dad just-” He put up a hand to stop her.
“I know, sweetie. I know. Just because you won’t be his girlfriend anymore doesn’t mean you’re abandoning him, does it? I’m sure he knows you and Peter will be there for him, no matter what. And if he doesn’t, then make sure you both remind him, okay?”
He stepped forward, placing a hand on Gwen’s shoulder with a soft squeeze.
“I have complete faith you’ll do the right thing in the end.” He released his hand.
“Now, have you got all your bags packed for your trip?” Gwen stared blankly for a moment.
“For the- oh, yeah... Yeah. I’ve got everything.”
“You should double check. Wouldn’t wanna forget anything important!” her father said, his voice trailing off as he disappeared down the hallway. The younger Stacy sighed, figuring he was probably right. No harm in double checking.
Back in her room, she heaved her meager suitcase upon her bed, with a slight struggle. Pulling apart the zipper, she filed through her various pairs of garments and to-go toiletries.
Sure enough, mere minutes later, she reaffirmed her satisfaction with the contents of her luggage. She then plopped down on her bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. She was so lost.
Her eyes eventually glanced over at her nightstand. It was pretty nondescript with a simple digital alarm clock, neighboring two framed photos. One was an old portrait taken of her and her father on her first day of high school.
The second was a more recent photo of her, Peter, and Harry, taken at the beginning of their junior year. She lingered, staring at it for a few precious moments.
“I hope you’re right, dad....”
---
For some reason, his cell phone began ringing.
The man stopped, no less than 20 feet from his destination, and retrieved his phone from his pocket. He recognized the number, but it wasn’t a call he was expecting. He answered.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Gargan, a pleasure to speak with you again,” said a familiar, aged voice.
“Look Smythe, I already told ya’s no. I got a good thing goin’ right now, and I don’t wanna screw things up, ya hear?” Smythe scoffed.
“I assure you, Mr. Gargan, this offer will be well worth your while. We understand it appeals to your… unique expertise.”
Gargan remained firm. “No. That’s my final answer,” closing the phone with a loud click.
Unexpected intermission aside, Gargan slid his phone back in his pocket, and strolled inside the familiar, towering flatiron office of the Daily Bugle.
Minutes later, the elevator opened with a ding, having just arrived at the top floor of the Bugle. Though he was steadfast and committed to his current job opportunity, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit anxious about this week’s scheduled check-in. Regardless, he persevered, knocking on the door and then entering the publisher’s office.
“Mr. Jameson, I-”
“Gargan, if you don’t have good news to give me then you may as well just give your letter of resignation instead, understood?! I am BEYOND not in the mood today!” Jameson said, focusing intently on the lineup of possible headlines sat upon his desk. Gargan bit his lip and gave a polite laugh, trying to ease the tension.
“W-Well, I got a good lead I’m followin’ up on right now, but… I don’t have anything… substantial… ”
“Oh just CAN IT , would ya?! That’s just a fancy way of saying you don’t have DIDDLY SQUAT! I’ve been paying you for over a WHOLE MONTH now! Why, I bet you’ve just sat around twiddling your thumbs waiting for my paychecks to come in the mail! Well, GUESS WHAT? No more! Consider yourself FIRED! ” Gargan’s eyes went wide.
“Jameson, no, you can’t! I been workin’ hard on this! Listen to me,” gesturing intently with his hands. “I found out-”
“ SAVE IT! I don’t have the time to waste on whatever cockamamey table scraps you’ve supposedly dug up! Now, are you gonna make yourself scarce or am I gonna have to make Ms. Brant call security?!”
Gargan’s mouth shifted, back and forth, trying to form the right words to say. Sadly, any rebellion he could come up with had died in his throat. His face sagged into a deep frown, a common sight for Gargan in recent months.
Silently, the disgraced P.I. turned around, and glumly trekked back to the elevator from which he came.
Mere minutes later, back on the streets outside, Gargan walked without direction. Finding his way to a secluded alley across the street, he leaned against the rough brick wall. He covered his face with his hands as he slid down, down to the ground, at a total loss for words..
“I’m friggin’ ruined… that was my last chance at fixin’ it all…” he said, to no one listening.
Gargan was at a total loss. After a series of botched investigations and some chance encounters with the law, his reputation was almost totally tarnished, and no longer could he pull any worthwhile jobs. Yet it was by sheer luck that Jameson had decided to contact him for a discreet investigation.
Jameson had asked Gargan to tail Peter Parker, and by extension, Spider-Man. His curiosity finally got the better of him, and Jameson had to know how Peter got such exceptional exclusive photographs of the wall crawling menace.
Though Gargan did his absolute best, he found no luck in tracking neither Peter nor Spider-Man. Somehow, whenever Spider-Man appeared, Parker vanished without a trace. No matter how hard he tried, how closely he followed, he always lost the kid. Not to mention, he never saw a trace of him whenever Spidey reared his head. He figured Parker must have been an absolute natural at staying hidden and discreet.
Either that, or Gargan was way worse a private eye than he thought.
Regardless, it didn’t matter much anymore. All that work he’d put in, all the information he’d been compiling, all worthless. None of that was going to get him out of his crummy, run-down apartment now. And so Gargan sat, thinking in silence for a few moments.
And then, his eyes lit up. He had one last chance, a final silver bullet. He hurriedly retrieved his cellphone, and redialed the last caller he had. It rang exactly three times before they answered.
“Mr. Gargan. I trust you’ve reconsidered?” said the same, old voice.
“Yeah,” Gargan replied. “I’m all in.”
---
A lone thwip rang out, high in the skyline.
“Wow! I have GOT to say, I don’t think I’ve EVER seen JJ blow his top as much as he did at that big event!”
He swung down low, then back up high, repeating the process rhythmically.
“Boy, when that nervous reporter spilled his drink all over JJ’s tux, I think I actually saw steam spout from his ears.”
One final thwip marked the last swing, and Spider-Man landed precisely on the corner of a towering rooftop.
“Fun and games aside, I’ve been on patrol for the better part of… two hours now. Doesn’t look like any more petty crooks are crawling out of the woodwork today.” He then plopped down on his bottom, letting his legs dangle over the immense drop.
“May as well take a quick breather then head home, I reckon’.”
His arms raised high over his head, stretching stiff muscles and eliciting a yawn from the hero.
“Things have actually been pretty quiet on the whole supervillain front lately… maybe hearing what happened to the Green Goblin scared ‘em all off.”
The young webslinger was actually a bit thankful for that fact; after that whole Goblin fiasco, he felt he had more than earned something of a reprieve.
“Well, who am I to complain if all the supervillains decided to take a hike?” he touted, standing to his feet. He crouched down, aiming his webshooter at a nearby awning and-
Spider-Sense.
Full blast.
In an instant, the wallcrawler somersaulted up and over the gap between buildings, landing deftly on the shear wall opposite his previous spot. His eyes immediately snapped to where he was once standing, being greeted with a large chunk smashed out of the rapport. He then saw the culprit, and his mood plummeted.
“Oh, me and my big mouth…”
Stood on the rooftop opposite him was the shape of a man. Most strikingly was the large, spiked prehensile tail attached to his back.
Or, rather, the back of his suit.
Said man was completely decked out in some type of green robotic armor that covered him completely, wiith the exception of his face. His lower mouth and chin area was exposed, whereas the eyes had striking angular patterns around them. Not too dissimilar from his own mask, Spider-Man thought.
“Okay, okay, I’ll bite. Who are you supposed to be? Let me guess,” putting a finger to his masked chin. “Are you the… Green Grasshopper? The Maniacal Mantis? Wait, I’ve got it! The Jazzy Junebug!” he jeered, crossing his arms triumphantly. His one-man audience, however, made no immediate reply. He simply perched himself on the same rapport he had just smashed, growling with fury.
“Heh. Funny.” said the man in green, tail whipping beside him.
“What, not a fan? Come on, those were pure gold! I just set up like, three new supervillains in one go.”
“The name’s Scorpion,” his tail pointed at Spider-Man, “and it’s the last name yer ever gonna hear.”
The wallcrawler simply cocked his head.
“Look pal, I respect the thought you put into your whole costume and identity, what with scorpions being natural predators of the spider and all that jazz, but you have got to work on those one-liners. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that on-”
Surprising no one, Spider-Man was interrupted. The Scorpion’s tail fired some sort of glob at the hero, who deftly dodged out of the way by scurrying along the wall.
The glob made an impact, and immediately began burning and eating through the very brick and foundation of the building. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was carrying some kind of powerful acid in that cannon.
“Just cutting right to the chase, huh? Fine by me!” Spidey retorted, leaping back across the street. He landed about ten feet away from Scorpion, and immediately fired a shot of webbing straight at his tail-blaster.
His aim was as true as ever, and the opening was immediately sealed shut. Scorpion merely laughed, aiming at the webslinger once more. Another glob of acid shot out, tearing through the webbing like thin paper. Spider-Man flipped out of the way, sighing as he landed.
“It was worth a shot, right?”
“Yeah,” Scorpion said. “How ‘bout a few more shots?” punctuated by two more blasts of acid, which were both dodged with ease.
“Y’know, maybe you shoulda’ spent a bit longer at the shooting range with that thing.”
Scorpion grunted in anger. Clearly, the vigilante’s snappy quips were starting to get to him, which was a clear sign he should keep going.
“I mean, it is BLINDINGLY clear you couldn’t even hit the broad side of a barn!”
Scorpion responded with another shot of acid and a loud groan of anger. “Quiet, you bug…”
Spidey leaped out of the way, sticking to the side of the rooftop’s nearby water tower. “You’d have a heck of a time shooting fish in a barrel! Or should I say spiders in a barrel? Ah, whatever,” throwing an exaggerated dismissive wave, “you couldn’t hit either! ”
Again, Scorpion fired a blast of acid, shearing open the side of the tower just as the hero flipped away. Water began rushing out, splattering onto the roof below it. “Shut… up…. Shut UP!”
Spidey shook his head. “Sorry, no-can-do. Doctor says my head’ll explode if I don’t get all these words out. You don’t mind though, do ya? I think you’re eating it right up!”
Scorpion prepared to blindly fire another blast in rage, before his head suddenly perked up; something grabbing his immediate attention. This fact did not go unnoticed by Spider-Man. He appeared to be listening for something, eyes squinting in focus. His tail then relaxed, lowering back beside him. A sadistic smile formed on his face.
“Heh. I shoulda known you’d pull that trick… it ain’t gonna work on me, though.”
“Was Scorpion zoning out on me, or is there some kind of radio in that chrome-dome helmet of his?”
“Aw, are you sure? Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I thought I was doing a pretty stand-up job.” Scorpion kept his grin and approached, tail in tow.
“Darn. Guess I’m not gonna be able to bait him into any more slip-ups. Not right now, anyway…”
Suddenly, Spider-Man leapt forward with a flip, aiming a kick at center-mass, which landed.
Pain shot up his leg almost immediately. He suffered through it, regaining his footing and kicking off Scorpion as a springboard, landing back almost exactly where he started from.
“Man… that’s gonna hurt to walk on for a while… have I learned NOTHING from Beaky’s backplate?!”
“Geez, what’s that stuff made of? Feels like it’d give Wolverine’s skeleton a run for its money.”
“Not so cocky now, huh? You got no way a’beatin me, punk.”
“Oh, I think I’ve got a few…” In a flash, Spider-Man fired both weblines at the Scorpion’s ankles, intending to topple him with a quick pull.
Not a moment later, Scorpion’s tail whipped and severed both strands. The arachnid fired back by leaping into the air with a dramatic flip, intending to catch Scorpion off guard, which looked to work. In that brief, microscopic instant, he fired another blast of webbing, this time at Scorpion’s face.
He shouted in anger, suddenly and quickly blinded by webbing. Obviously, his tail would be a bad choice for tearing this specific blast of webbing off, so he took to clawing at his eyes with his hands. Moments later, the webbing was gone, and so was the wallcrawler.
Not gone for long, though, as Scorpion suddenly felt a weight on his back.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Scorpion,” the vigilante taunted. “...but the tumor’s malignant… we have no choice but to AMPUTATE! ” he punctuated with a hefty groan.
“Is that spider creep trying to tear off my tail…?!” Scorpion thought in a panic.
He felt the metallic plating and fastening on the suit start to creak and give way, and he knew he had to act fast.
Wasting no more time, he flung his tail back and forth, trying to shake the bug off.
The tail hit the ground with a loud crack, and Spider-Man hoped that was the pavement and not any of his bones.
“This Scorpion guy’s about as strong as Venom…!”
Still, he held on with all the strength he could muster. After two more powerful thuds, he could keep his grasp no longer, and was launched a small distance across the roof, rolling sideways to a painful halt.
Spidey let out a groan, shakily rising to his feet, having just suffered a rough battering.
“Maybe you should start charging for rodeo rides on that thing.”
Scorpion spat out a laugh.
“Maybe I’ll just charge attendance at your funeral instead.”
He then lunged at Spider-Man, intending to smash him overhead with his tail. Despite his injuries, the hero had one last gambit left.
He leapt at Scorpion, twisting to the side just in time to dodge the tail. The moment he heard the concrete shatter beneath it, Spider-Man threw a right hook for Scorpion’s jaw, now left wide open.
CRACK!
Direct hit.
Scorpion reeled back in pain and anger, wildly backhanding at Spidey, who unfortunately couldn’t dodge in time. He was launched once more, crashing directly into the water tower from before, which hopelessly shattered and collapsed right on top of the poor hero. The remaining water cascaded out and onto the rooftop just below it with a loud crash.
The greener, angrier arachnid finished clutching at his face in pain, now seething in rage. He effortlessly leapt up to the water tower platform, shoving aside the shattered and bent tin without a thought. Spider-Man lay helpless on the platform, soaking wet and sputtering.
“H-Heh… how’d that song go…? Down came the rain and all that…” Scorpion merely groaned animalistically.
“I’m gonna kill you, bug. Ain’t no more games.”
“Well, Pete old buddy… looks like the spider succumbs to its natural predator, huh? It’s kind of poetic, in a way…”
Scorpion raised his tail high, intending to impale the paralyzed superhero with it.
“Just… wish I got to see Gwen one last time…”
The tail shot forward like a bolt of lightning, and then…
ZZZZZZAP!
Followed by loud screams of pain.
Spider-Man forced his eyes open, utterly confused. He wasn’t dead… was he?
His vision focused, and saw Scorpion was being… electrocuted? By what? Or who? A hundred questions raced a mile a minute through his head, but it seemed he wouldn’t be getting answers just yet.
Scorpion shouted, clutching at his head, and just as fast as it started the electrocution stopped. He knelt, gasping for breath.
He then snapped away from the vigilante, quickly leaping away and leaving him sprawled out on the elevated platform.
Spider-Man weakly propped himself up on his elbows, trying to see where Scorpion ran off to.
“Did… Did I win?” he said to no one but himself.
His head then fell back, as he quickly lost consciousness.
---
The claw pierced the exterior of the building as easily as stabbing through cardboard.
Scorpion then stopped, taking a moment to catch his breath. He remained there, hanging from his claws, high above the streets below. He wouldn’t have much time to think, however. The on-board headset in his helmet clicked to life, and Spencer Smythe’s voice followed.
“Gargan, you utter fool… ” Scorpion grimaced, quickly feeling anger rise yet again.
“Our deal specifically mentioned that you are NOT to kill Spider-Man. Have you forgotten that?!”
“No, I haven’t,” he barked. “Just got… caught up in the moment.” His eyes closed as he took a deep, clear breath. His thoughts then bounced back to the taser seemingly installed in his suit. “How come you never said nothin’ ‘bout the shock collar in this thing? That thing coulda’ killed me!”
Smythe was silent for a moment. “We had to make sure you would remain… obedient. There was no predicting how the… procedure would affect your mental faculties.”
“Mental faculties…?! Just what did you freaks do to me?!”
“Now, now, Mr. Gargan. I assure you, the test was a resounding success. We’ve compared your brainwave patterns from before and after the procedure and found virtually no differences!”
Scorpion scoffed. “Virtually, huh? You’re sayin’ somethin’ did change.”
“Yes,” Spencer sighed. “But not exceeding expected ranges! You’ve undergone a major treatment, my friend. Some residual… trauma, is to be expected, for the time being.”
“...Fine,” he sighed. “Whatever you say, Smythe.”
“Now then,” Smythe cleared his throat. “Since Spider-Man has proven no match for the Scorpion, it seems we are clear to proceed with the next step of our plan.”
“Yeah… seems so.”
Scorpion hurled himself up and over the edge of the roof with ease, landing with a loud thud. He wasted no time in sprinting towards his new destination.
---
“Oh, man… just when I thought I could throw in the towel for today, I go and get the daylights beat out of me by some brand NEW psycho. Talk about Parker Luck…”
He leapt from his web, perching upon the face of a wall.
After waking up on the water tower a few hours later, he quickly searched for Scorpion, to no avail. He then figured he may as well go home for the night, before it got any later, lest Aunt May worry.
He was about 10 minutes from home now, though the beating he had taken was making swinging a bit of a difficult task.
“Speaking of Scorpion… just where’d he come from? Tombstone’s in jail, so it can’t be him… Doc Ock is still locked up in Ravencroft with Eddie, so it couldn’t be him either…”
The wallcrawler racked his brain for a moment, grasping for answers..
“Phooey. Doesn’t matter where he came from, at least not right now. All that does is that I put him behind bars before someone gets seriously hurt.”
He then sighed.
“First things first, I have to find out where he scampered off to. Which… might be difficult, judging by the lickin’ he gave me.”
Shaking his head, he conceded.
“Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m in no condition for a rematch. I should just head home, rest… and pray Scorpion doesn’t turn a bank into... goo, or something.”
Minutes later, the young superhero made his way back to Forest Hills, touching down on that same familiar home he’d lived in for most of his life. Pulling his backpack off his shoulders, he quickly changed outfits, returning once again to the average unassuming Peter Parker.
He dropped down on the path leading up to the front porch, and sauntered down it.
“I’m home, Aunt May,” Peter called, opening the door.
“Ah, Peter dear, you’re home just in time for dinner,” she called from the kitchen.
Peter felt his stomach grumble as he shut the door behind him.
“That’s what I get for skipping lunch, I suppose.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and wash up first? It’ll be ready in just a moment.”
Peter had no objections, trotting up to his room to drop his pack off before turning and heading to the bathroom. There, he turned the faucet to full blast just before splashing his face twice. He took a long look at himself in the mirror.
“You can’t even tell that Scorpion wiped the floor with me earlier today.”
It wasn’t the fastest thing in the world, but Peter did develop an enhanced healing factor along with his bevy of other spider-like abilities. Healing faster is a good thing in itself, but it also helps him hide evidence of any battles from his friends and family, which he was also very thankful for.
Healing factor or not, he could tell that he needed to rest. That, and eat. He was, in fact, starving.
---
Tucked away somewhere hidden, an elevator hissed and slid open.
Inside stood Spencer Smythe just beside the Scorpion. They quickly filed out, entering the room before them.
Scorpion was here just once before; it was Smythe’s hidden lab. It was large, quite large, with a slick modernist appearance. Smooth, brushed metal was everywhere.
Countless counters, workbenches, and tables were all over, each with their own heaping of tools, gutted electronics, or chemicals. Beyond that, far in the back of the room, were four large open areas, all empty, save for one. It housed a large opened chassis for… something. Scorpion had no idea what, and he didn’t really care to ask.
The two continued walking, reaching the area they had used previously. The younger of the two men stood in the center of a large fixture, and a pair of robotic tool arms dropped down, controlled by Smythe from a terminal about ten feet away. The arms set to work quickly, beginning the disassembly process for Scorpion’s armor.
“You’ve done well today, Gargan.” Smythe mused.
“All targets ransacked, no casualties, neither police nor civilian… you’ve done exactly as we’ve asked.”
Scorpion, now almost Gargan once more, scoffed slightly. “Yeah.”
“Is something troubling you?”
“I ain’t a fan of that shocky thing in my suit.”
Smythe winced, ever so slightly.
“My sincerest apologies, Gargan. It was merely a safety measure, should you or... whoever we chose, decide to ignore our deal.” Gargan’s expression remained steadfast.
Smythe exhaled. “I’m no fan of it either. Though, I do believe after we finish the next phase of our plan, there will be no need for such a device, and I will be more than happy to remove it. Does this sound appealing to you?”
The former private eye mulled it over for a moment. “Yeah. No complaints from me, the sooner the better.”
Smythe smiled warmly. “Good, good. Just as soon as we complete our work, it will be removed post-haste.”
“Yeah… now, if ya don’t mind, I’m goin’ home to get some shuteye.” Gargan then began walking toward the elevator.
“By all means, rest up. You’ll need it,” Smythe called after him. The elevator door shut behind Gargan, and he was quickly gone.
Smythe’s warm demeanor quickly faded.
“Such ignorance… disrespect... I do hope this is over rather quickly,” he scoffed.
With that, Smythe set back to work on his latest project.
---
“Master Harry?”
Bernard’s voice shook Harry from his thoughts as he stood, staring idly out the window in his room.
He turned his head towards his door. “Yeah?”
“Dinner has been prepared. I recommend you eat something.”
“That’s… Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“As you wish, master Harry.” The butler then shut the door behind him, leaving Harry alone once more. He shook his head, covering his eyes.
Harry was deeply conflicted.
He was upset and hurt that his father had died, obviously. And yet… he couldn’t help but feel deep down that things wouldn’t change too much for him.
He had already grown accustomed to Norman’s frequent absences, never being there when it truly mattered. Or being there at all, honestly. So on that front, Harry felt he could weather the storm well enough.
But then… back before everything… even if his dad wasn’t there, he still knew he’d get a chance to see him again later, right?
Well, not anymore.
Harry drug his hand down his face.
He felt alone now more than ever.
Sure, he still had Gwen, but… he knew it was spiraling fast, to say the very least. He knew the only reason she hadn't left him yet was out of sympathy due to having just lost his father. Harry made no effort to assuage her concerns, though.
In fact, he intentionally used Norman’s death to guilt her into staying with him.
Harry’s brow tightened a bit.
“Am I no better than my father? Using his death just to… manipulate Gwen?!”
He sighed, hard.
And then, there was Peter.
Peter Parker…
Harry wasn’t sure if it was just the fact that Peter was plotting with Gwen to have her break up with him, but something about him was rubbing him the wrong way lately. He just couldn’t put a finger on it.
“Whatever,” he figured. “Why should I have to apologize? They’re in the wrong here. I’m doing my best to manage, just like always. I don’t need them.”
His face went blank again, exhaling. He was done thinking for now. The teen made for his door, now ready to have dinner.
---
Back at the Parker household, a restless Peter found himself unable to sleep.
He had a full meal (extra full, thanks to May insisting on dessert) and showered, making him feel like a brand new man. It didn’t do much to quell his racing thoughts, unfortunately. Peter flipped to his other side, eyeing his alarm clock.
12:00.
He sighed, sitting up in bed.
“Doesn’t look like I’m gonna be sleeping for a while… good thing it’s Friday, I guess.”
He casually rolled out of bed and into a handstand, continuing the roll until he was standing rightside up again. Rubbing his eyes, he kept thinking, and thinking.
“That Scorpion guy… It's clear as day he was being guided by someone. Not to mention, they’ve got him on a pretty tight leash, what with that shocking system and everything.”
Peter still had no clue who was the one holding said leash, so he didn’t even bother going with that train of thought. Instead, his eyes trailed to his desk as he boarded a different train.
“You know… I have been fiddling with this radio-wave tech for a while,” he thought, idly thumbing through the various parts strewn across his desk.
“Maybe I can whip something up to intercept those signals… and maybe even take control of that shocking device.”
He wasted no time in getting to work. Taking apart various gadgets and household items, soldering wires, gluing and screwdriving… Peter’s brilliance was rivaled only by his sense of responsibility, and so mere hours later, he had managed to finish a somewhat bare-bones prototype.
Between his fingers, he held a quarter sized electronic device before his eye, staring intently.
“All right little guy… Let’s see if I’m still as sharp as I used to be.”
Leaning over, he then held the device a few inches away from his desk lamp, slowly inching it closer, and closer, until....
DINK!
The attached magnet’s force took over, quickly snapping onto the metal base of the lamp.
“All right, the magnet’s working fine. But now, the hard part…”
Peter stood from his chair, wearing his utility belt, though with one new notable addition: a small control set, fitted with a button and a twist-knob. Cautiously, he pressed the button, and…
An LED on the device attached to the lamp lit up yellow, and-
A harsh beep emitted, indicating failure to detect a suitable signal.
“Well, looks like the remote control connection works. But there’s no real way of knowing if the signal hijacker does until I can try it out in the field...”
Regardless, Peter smiled, feeling quite proud of himself. No matter what radioactive creature bit him, he’d always be a scientist at heart.
“It does look a bit… rough, but I guess I’ll have to invest in spider themed branding some other time. Right now, I’m beat.”
He checked his clock again, totally oblivious to the passing of time until this very moment.
2:47.
A yawn escaped him as he stretched.
“Guess that’s one way to fight off insomnia,” he thought. He unhooked his utility belt, placing it back on his desk, just beside the small pile of dismantled electronics and items.
He collapsed into bed, sleep finding him a short time later.
---
Knock knock knock!
Peter bolted upright, suddenly being awakened by a harsh rapping at his door.
“Peter, dear,” Aunt May’s voice called just beyond his room, “It’s nearly after noon. Are you ill?”
“Ah, no, Aunt May. Just had a long night, that’s all.”
“Well, all right then. I wanted to let you know that Anna Watson and I are going out today, so I’ll be gone for a while. I left you some breakfast in the fridge to heat up if you get hungry.”
Peter couldn’t help but smile. No matter what life threw at him, at least he had Aunt May.
“Sure, Aunt May. You gals have fun, I’ll be just fine holding down the fort.”
“Call if you need me!” Aunt May said, her voice trailing off as she headed down the stairs.
“I’m glad she seems to be enjoying things again, at least for right now. For a while, she was so worried about Harry losing his dad. She knows how close we are.”
He caught himself.
“...Were, I guess. He’s been distant lately.”
Peter could tell Harry had been acting differently, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was the death of his father, his newfound hatred for Spider-Man, or something else.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve already wasted half the day, so I better get a jump on things as soon as I can.”
He decided he’d start by digging into the breakfast May had left him, and then he’d swing by the Bugle to drop off the photos he had just finished developing.
After that, the hunt for Scorpion was on.
---
The hissing of hydraulic machinery filled the air.
Gargan stood in place, the Scorpion armor quickly forming around him once more. Smythe stood ever vigilant at his terminal.
“You remember what to do, don’t you Gargan?”
“Yeah,” he hissed. “Hostage situation.”
“Exactly. Buy time until we can send in the... cavalry."
Gargan, now Scorpion, laughed once. “You got it.”
---
Once again, Spider-Man found himself web swinging through the city, now headed towards the Bugle. Stopping a petty mugging just minutes before had given him a bit of a second wind, and he now felt more than ready to take on the Scorpion.
His final webline fired out, hitting the corner of the Bugle’s roof. Spidey deftly swung all the way up and over, letting go to land squarely on the roof with ease. He paused for a moment, checking the contents of his satchel.
He retrieved the manilla envelope, fingering through the photos.
“Yup, the gang’s all here. Now, to make a quick delivery to one J. Jonah Jameson for some cold hard cash…”
The wallcrawler wasted no time in pushing open his favorite vent, quickly and quietly sneaking into the ducts. His memory served him, taking two rights then a left, and he popped out right in the men’s bathroom.
A quick change to Peter Parker occurred, and the young man soon exited the bathroom, photos in hand. He strode down the hallway, spring in his step. His hand reached for the door to the Bugle offices, and-
“Spider-Sense? Here? Now?!”
Peter quickly focused, peeking through the glass door, and surveyed the office.
There was a small instant that everything appeared to be in order; people typing at their desks, filing around the office, papers in hand.
And yet, the moment he looked in through the glass, he witnessed a shape come crashing straight through one of the side walls. The dust quickly settled, revealing none other than... Scorpion.
The armored arachnid stood, unfurling his tail wickedly, eying the horrified and helpless staff. He then spoke, loudly demanding only one thing;
“Where’s Jameson?”
Peter quickly darted away from the door, finding the nearest window. As fast as his hands would move, he shed his street clothes, quickly re-revealing his trusty red and blue costume.
His garments were stuffed in his satchel, dropped just by the window, and Spider-Man then dove headfirst out of it. He shot a web, his momentum flinging him up towards the entrance Scorpion had just so graciously provided. His arc went a bit over as he planned, and he landed safely on the wall just above the opening.
Fortunately, he was just in time to see Scorpion fling a few helpless desks to the side before stomping angrily through Jameson’s incredibly expensive glass partition. He quickly swung in, using the top of the gap as leverage, flipping and landing aptly on one of the desks still left standing.
He followed the Scorpion-shaped hole in the door, and saw said villain threatening a very unhappy looking Jameson. Scorpion’s tail flicked out, pointing directly at the peeved publisher.
“How’s it feel to be the little guy now, huh?” Scorpion jeered. “Consider this payback for firin’ me.”
Jameson merely gritted his teeth, eyes darting back and forth, searching for any possible escape.
It wasn’t meant to be, however; Scorpion’s tail came to life, and-
THWIP!
A glob of acid tore a hole through one of Jameson’s many cherished awards hung high on the wall.
The supervillain quickly whipped around in anger.
His eyes met with Spider-Man, who had just yanked his tail off-course with a well-placed webline.
“Now now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, gentlemen!”
Jameson wasted no time in sticking a finger at the webslinger. “A- HA! I KNEW YOU TWO WERE IN ON THIS TOGETHER! WHY ELSE WOULD HE ATTACK THE BU-”
A quick blast of webbing sealed his mouth shut.
“Why don’t you let mom and dad talk this one out, JJ?”
Scorpion merely stared in silent fury.
“You… How are you- WHY are you here?! Killin’ you ain’t part of the plan!”
“Well, I was just in the neighborhood and figured I’d stop by and give Jonah a quick wedgie. Looks like you’ll have to do instead.”
The armored intruder screamed in rage, and blindly charged at Spider-Man, who crouched to the floor in preparation.
“I’ve only got one chance at this… I gotta make every move count!”
At the last possible instant, Scorpion went for another overhead tail smash, echoing their previous encounter.
Spider-Man dodged effortlessly, flipping and twisting up into the air. With surgical precision, a shot of webbing stuck the appendage to the ground.
Spidey followed through with the arc of his jump, attempting to get in range of Scorpion to place the radio-device. Expecting Scorpion to focus on freeing his tail he was so reliant on, he figured he’d have a clear shot.
WHACK!
Also like last time, Spider-Man tanked a new backhand, flinging him into the opposite wall. He shook it off and regained footing just in time to see Scorpion’s tail break free.
“Oh, come on… I guess he’s even MORE on guard now…”
The hero’s eyes darted around the office once more, looking for something to help him turn the tide in his favor. He couldn’t see anything, except-
“Jonah… Oh, I just might have an idea forming…”
Spider-Man refocused on Scorpion, firing a quick volley of webbing from his perch upon the wall. All were direct hits, though they were quickly shredded with his sheer strength. The wallcrawler dropped to the floor, quickly grabbing and flinging an upturned desk at his opponent.
Scorpion’s tail slashed through it like butter. Though he quickly noted Spider-Man vanished.
“Where are you, bug?!” he shouted, turning to scan the entire office.
Jonah was huddled behind his desk, stabbing at the webbing covering his lips with a pen when something landed just behind him. A quick tap on his shoulder made him turn, and before he could attempt to shout, Spider-Man ripped the webbing off in the blink of an eye. Jonah clutched his mouth in pain.
“Look, Jonah, no time for arguing. You’ve got a big mouth; almost as big as mine. I need you to put it to use, do whatever you can to insult him, make him mad, get him off his game so I can get in close and beat him, got it?”
For a moment, Jonah’s immediate instinct was to shout, berate the vigilante, the works. But he then thought how his employees were all currently cowering in fear, weighing the complete danger they were in.
“Fine. I’ll do what I can.”
Spider-Man gave a quick nod, and backflipped back through the gaping hole in the door.
Scorpion was interrupted by a small pencil holder hitting the back of his head, once more making him lash around to face the culprit. Sure enough, there sat Spider-Man perched on a desk, arm outstretched.
“I’d say I earned a prize or two, but you’re such a big easy target it’s just no challenge.”
Scorpion grunted and fired back with a quick blast of acid. Spider-Man leapt high, soaring across the room as the villain’s eyes trailed him. What he didn’t notice, however, was the vigilante yanking hard on a webline in each hand.
Aided with his momentum, Spider-Man sent the desk he was on moments ago crashing directly into Scorpion’s back, knocking him face first to the floor.
Jonah, witnessing the events play out before him, couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d met this guy before.
“What’d that freak say…? Payback for… firing him?”
Realization hit Jameson quickly as he put the pieces together.
It was Gargan, disgruntled and back for revenge.
Jonah wasted no time putting this revelation to good use, however.
“Gargan, you absolute MORON! ”
The former private-eye stopped for a moment, head slowly turning behind him.
“What did you say to me, Jonah?”
Jameson simply laughed. “You heard me, punk! Don’t even PRETEND like you didn’t! You lousy, no good, third-rate private sleaze! It’s no surprise you fell out of work and had your whole name tarnished, considering how you couldn’t drum up a single useful bit of information in an entire month! Why, there’s no doubt in my mind that the coffee boy would follow a trail better than you!”
Scorpion’s eyes went wide, jaw dropping further, rage growing higher. The insults and berating just wouldn’t end, and it ate deep at Scorpion, no, Gargan.
Even Spider-Man had to admit he was impressed by what Jonah was dishing out, secretly crawling into position directly above Scorpion.
“Just what were you planning to do here, you green geek? Kill me as petty payback? Hurt my staff? The only thing you’ve ever managed to kill was the chance of your life EVER going back to normal, you overgrown insect! I’m not gonna stop until every citizen in this city knows that Mac Gargan turned himself into a big whiny clown in a COSTUME!”
Scorpion shouted in fury. “ENOUGH! YOU’RE DEAD!” He prepared to lunge straight at Jameson, and-
Spider-Man dropped directly on top of him, catching Scorpion completely off guard.
Jameson grinned.
DINK!
Scorpion flung the hero off with ease, who recovered mid-air and perched upon a wall.
“Well, here goes nothing…” Spidey said to himself, lifting the top half of his costume to quickly press the activation button on his utility belt.
Suddenly, Scorpion heard a beep on his suit. A beep he was unfamiliar with. His eyes darted left and right in uncertainty, hands patting down the exterior of his armor in a fervor.
“Smythe? SMYTHE? What is that noise?!”
Static was his response.
“Hey, Scorpion!”
His eyes snapped up, quickly latching onto the hero hanging from the wall.
“You ever read “The Kid who Ate Fried Scorpions?””
Spidey twisted the knob on his belt, and that was the last thing Scorpion saw before countless hundreds of volts surged through his armor, and into him. His muscles seized, shaking violently as he screamed in agony, until his body gave out, dropping to his knees.
Spider-Man eased off the voltage, and Scorpion fell face first to the floor, now hopelessly unconscious. He then wasted no time in landing down beside him, grabbing onto his tail with both hands.
He struggled and groaned as he tugged with all his strength. “You won’t be needing… THIS... anymore!”
The sound of metal shearing and snapping echoed through the office, as Scorpion’s stinger was finally removed once and for all. In one quick motion, the young hero stuffed the severed end of the tail down the firing chamber.
“That takes care of that,” he said, dropping the appendage to the floor. He turned, seeing Jameson approach. “Say, it almost sounded like you knew this creep a minute ago. Got... any leads?” Jameson scoffed in response.
“LEADS?” HA! As if I’d EVER help you!”
“But… you just did, like, two minutes ago.”
Jameson stuttered. “Ah, well, that’s different. A necessary sacrifice to save my helpless staff.”
Spider-Man shook his head and sighed.
“Well? What are you waiting for, you crook? Scram, and take him with you before I have the police string you up by your webs!”
The vigilante lifted his unconscious opponent over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Have it your way, Jonah.” He trotted to the edge of the gap, ready to leap down to the small collection of police interceptors on the street below, but stopped and turned back.
“And you can consider our truce over, flat-top!”
He then dropped straight down, dodging another of Jameson’s angry rants just in time.
Catching himself at the last moment with a webline, he slowed safely, landing by the rear end of a maximum security SWAT van and its operators.
“He took a pretty big zap back there,” Spider-Man said. “You should have plenty of time to get him locked up in the Vault.” The armed men nodded in acknowledgement, and two more moved to lift the incapacitated Scorpion into the back, with noticeable effort.
The doors shut with a loud CLUNK, and before any police officers had the chance to question him, Spider-Man was long gone.
Minutes later, that same vigilante returned to his discarded satchel to retrieve it.
“I gotta say, not only did my radio interceptor slash signal hijacker work, I took care of Scorpion pretty handily. Then again, I probably won’t be able to sell off these pics for a while, considering how the Bugle just got ransacked…”
It was a bummer, but considering just how smoothly everything else had gone today, Spidey felt like he could live with it.
---
It was a slow business day at the Silver Spoon, that much was obvious.
Though to be fair, it was a bit of a slow day everywhere, as far as she could tell.
The young girl sat at the counter, idly trailing her spoon around the bottom of her drink.
“You uh, need anything else?” She looked up, meeting the gaze of the kind barista.
“I’m just fine,” she replied with her smooth, sultry voice. The barista simply nodded with a polite smile, and moved on down the counter to the next waiting customer.
“Fine might be a bit optimistic, I guess…”
She didn’t have too much time to ruminate, however. The jingling of the doorbells alerted her to the debut of one rather pleased looking Peter Parker. Immediately, she felt her mood inflate, even if it was only a slight amount.
“What do you know? Things might be just a little bit more interesting than I thought…”
Their eyes met, and they exchanged a friendly smile as he strode up to the counter.
“Heya, MJ. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
The young redhead tilted her head to the side. “Aw, aren’t you glad to see me?”
“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” he replied, his intentions entirely polite and innocent.
A sly smile graced her lips. “Thank goodness, I thought my charm was starting to wear off…”
He rolled his eyes jokingly. “Ever the kidder, MJ.”
“You know me, tiger. I just can’t help myself.” She paused for a brief moment. “So, what brings you here? Early for a hot date with someone special?”
Peter gave a sad smile. “Not quite yet. Not for a while, if I had to guess.”
MJ’s interest rose as she sat up, deciding to pay more attention. “What makes you say that?”
“Well,” he sighed. “You know... Harry just lost Norman and there was all the Goblin stuff, so it’s kind of hard on him right now. Gwen doesn’t want to make things worse for him.”
MJ didn’t look surprised.
“Ah, that’s what I expected. I haven’t known her nearly as long as you have Pete, but I can tell she’s got a real pure heart.”
“Yeah, you could say that again.”
She didn’t fail to notice the slight drop in his demeanor. She’d become a master of reading body language.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Chin up, tiger,” lifting his chin with her finger. “I’m sure things will work out for you. All three of you. I know how close you all are.”
Peter smiled warmly. MJ was rare to be genuine, so he knew it was important when she was.
“Thanks, MJ. That means a lot to hear.”
A small, comfortable silence filled the air as the two sat peacefully, before Peter decided to continue the conversation.
“Not to be rude, but you seem a bit glum yourself.”
A bittersweet smirk crossed her face. “That obvious, huh?”
“Stirring your drink idly and sitting alone really sold it.”
She gave a small laugh just before taking a breath.
“Mark and I split up,” she said rather bluntly. Peter looked more surprised than she did.
“Whoa, really? I’m… sorry to hear that. I thought you two were really serious about each other.”
“So did I. That’s usually my luck with relationships, though. It’s why I try not to get in any.”
Peter was quiet. He really didn’t have any advice to give or anything meaningful to say, as much as he’d like to help.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make it so depressing,” she said with a smile.
“Don’t apologize, it’s fine. I just… wish I had something to say. I’m sure you know I’m not the most experienced with relationships and stuff.”
“You don’t have to say anything, tiger. The fact you actually listen makes all the difference.”
“Well, when you put it like that… I guess so.”
Another peaceful quiet came between them, however, it remained unbroken until the barista came to ask Peter for his order.
A short time later, the two were enjoying their drinks and making friendly smalltalk, just like nothing was wrong. When the time finally came for Peter to head home, MJ’s mood had seen a dramatic improvement.
For that, she was very thankful.
---
“Mr. Fisk, I assure you that-”
The behemoth held up his palm, stopping him. “It was an unexpected interruption. Despite Spider-Man’s sudden interference, I have lost no faith in your brilliance, or our plans.”
Smythe was a bit… taken aback. He was no stranger to seeing Fisk fly off the handle in rage, but it seems that the Kingpin was in a good mood. For now.
“We will simply take a step back and readjust our plans. We do have all the time in the world, after all. And I am playing a long game,” he finished with a smirk.
“A-As you wish, Mr. Fisk. I’ll get to work on updating our current plans.”
“Most excellent. Do keep me updated.”
Smythe left Kingpin’s office, mind running rampant attempting to alter their schemes to suit the new circumstances they found themselves in.
---
Peter strode down the sidewalk happily, not a care in the world.
He wasn’t far from home, within just a minute or two of the old familiar abode, and he was more than ready to call it a night. Between taking out Scorpion and going on his usual patrol, the young man was starting to feel fatigued.
Not to mention, all that caffeine he had at the Silver Spoon was just wearing off and causing a major crash.
“I’m home,” Peter spoke through a stifled yawn.
Aunt May sat on the couch, knitting peacefully, television set switched on.
“There you are, Peter. I was beginning to wonder where you got off to.”
“Just had some errands to take care of before I hung out at the cafe for a while, that’s all.”
He headed for the kitchen to grab a quick refreshment.
“How was your day, though? Did you and Ms. Watson tear up the town?”
May gave a quick incredulous laugh. “I should hope not! We just took a bit of a shopping trip is all. Oh, that reminds me! I picked up an extra toothbrush for you, just in case.”
Peter peeked over the fridge door.
“Toothbrush?”
“Why, for your trip? Surely you haven’t forgotten?”
“My tr-” Peter’s eyes went wide. “My TRIP… ”
“Yup. I forgot.”
Peter’s hand hit his forehead.
Aunt May gave a reassuring smile. “Ah, it’s no worry. There’s still two whole days to pack and prepare, right?”
“Yeah, that’s true. It won’t take long at all.”
“I can’t believe that slipped my mind. I was so caught up with Scorpion I forgot all about it.”
Peter’s brow tightened.
“I really hope there’s nothing else I’ve forgotten...”
A scant few hours later and after a generous serving of Romita’s delivery pizza, the young teen had begun packing his suitcase. The leather coating had a few scrapes and missing patches, but it didn’t matter to Peter. It held his stuff just fine all the same.
Another fifteen minutes passed, and he felt he packed every possible necessity for the trip.
“Multiple outfits, check… clean socks, check… extra web fluid, check… cell phone… cell phone, cell phone…”
He patted his pants down, searching the pockets for the phone.
“Oh, please don’t tell me I lost it. I can’t afford an expense like-”
His eyes passed over his desk, and there he saw his trusty mobile device, exactly where he left it yesterday morning.
“Geez, talk about a near-death experience. Can’t believe I forgot it here for so long...”
He stepped towards his desk and picked up his phone, opening it with a click.
“Might as well check my voicemail. Who knows what I could’ve m-”
The flat, green screen came to life, and displayed a gut wrenching sight.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me…”
*4 MISSED CALLS FROM: Daily Bugle*
Peter felt his blood turn to ice as he pressed play on the oldest message.
"PARKER! Need you to get some pics PRONTO! ” Jameson’s voice blared over the tiny speaker.
“Some new costumed clown is tearing up a bank! Nobody else is available, so I’m relying on you here. DON’T let me down!”
Peter could hardly bring himself to play the following three messages.
Yet somehow, he persevered, finding out that while he was knocked out cold in a random water tower, Scorpion had hit a bank, an office building, and a warehouse of some kind, ransacking them for seemingly no reason.
Fortunately enough, there were no casualties, as it seemed Scorpion was aiming directly to destroy the properties themselves.
“Well, that seals it. Next time Jonah sees me, he’s going to bite my head clean off.”
He exhaled deeply. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it would definitely sour their already… delicate working relationship.
Peter headed back to his suitcase, and tucked the cellphone in a small pocket. At any rate, he reckoned he was finished packing, and he could double check tomorrow evening.
The lid shut with a clack, and Peter read over the engrained initials.
PROPERTY OF: Ben F. Parker
Peter smiled nostalgically.
“Miss you every day, Uncle Ben.”
He then clicked both latches securely, and sat the case in his desk chair.
Afterward, he clambered into bed for some much needed (and much deserved) rest.
---
Far down south, way out of the bounds of New York City, a duo of scientists were hard at work in their personal lab.
“Flip the switch, I’m getting good readings this time,” said the male, stationed at a computer terminal.
His partner, his wife, quickly obliged. Pulling hard on the switch, a machine spun to life, supercharging a set of chemical solutions sat snugly within the centrifuge. The electricity reacted with the chemicals, altering their structure significantly.
The woman flipped the switch back off, and approached the machine as her husband quickly did the same.
“How does it look?” she asks, removing her safety goggles.
“Promising. Very promising.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, though not his natural hand, or arm for that matter; instead, a highly advanced prosthetic.
“I believe we’re onto a breakthrough.”