Back to Gatefold2001 Annual by Mike Exner III, Des Davies, Dino Pollard, and David Wheatley
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"FEARS OF A FROGMAN"
Part I
by Michael Exner III
[*note to reader: This story takes place before Amazing Spider-Man #13 - Will]
"Hey Eugene man, we're gonna go down to the court and play some hoops. You wanna come?" said one of the college students from the group clustered around Eugene Slodnik's dormitory. It was spring break at the University of Indiana, and while many of the students had gone away to exotic locales for expensive vacations, many others were stuck at school, studying hard and struggling to get by. Eugene Slodnik wasn't struggling as hard as some, but he was struggling. The guys surrounding him now were one of the reasons for that. All they ever seemed to do was play games and yet they either passed, or didn't care if they failed.
When Eugene had first come to school he'd been overweight and reserved in attitude and appearance. Most of the other students either ridiculed or ignored him. All of that changed the day he met Joey Stanton. Joey was the one twirling the basketball on his finger and beckoning Eugene to go out now. When Eugene had met him, Joey hadn't seemed to care if Eugene was an outcast. They'd become friends quickly and even though Joey sometimes used Eugene to write reports for him or do his schoolwork, he still made time for Eugene outside of class. Eugene gradually got into sports, lost weight, and, though he was still shy, became less reserved as far as his personality went.
But now Eugene was struggling in school, Joey didn't come to him for answers anymore. Eugene supposed he should have been grateful that Joey considered him part of his "crew" now, but Eugene really needed to get his schoolwork done. The huge radio blasting hip-hop on Joey's shoulder wasn't doing him any favors.
"I can't Joey, I've got a lot of work to do just to catch up this semester and if I don't take care of it I'm screwed big time."
"Hey no problem, compadre. You want I should hang around? I don't really feel like balling with these losers anyhow," Joey said and Eugene grinned. Joey had really become a good friend. Eugene began to say that Joey should go ahead anyway, but suddenly a voice from behind the crowd of guys erupted in anger and fury.
"What the hell is going on here!? You idiots get out of the way before I cripple somebody," shouted the voice and Eugene groaned. His roommate was here. Barry Hemlock. Barry was a bully, plain and simple. He played basketball for the university and before the season had started he'd been a great guy. After it was over and they'd had one of the worst years in recorded history however, things had changed. Barry had become a real jerk. He constantly threatened Eugene and every time they got in a fight over something Barry would get increasingly violent. It got to the point where Eugene was afraid to be in the room with Barry.
The crowd in the doorway quickly disappeared and soon only Joey was left standing there with Barry glaring at him menacingly. Joey had his trademark smirk and Eugene hoped Barry wouldn't take it for anything more than false bravado. Joey was tough and Joey was cool, but taking on a 6'8, 280lb. power forward wouldn't be very wise.
"You got something to say Stanton?" growled Barry and Eugene crossed his fingers and held his breath. If Joey just kept his mouth shut then they could both head down to the lounge, as far away from Barry as possible.
"No problem here Barry, me and Eugene was just headed down to the library so we could get some work done. Ain't that right 'Genie?" Joey said and Eugene let his breath out as he nodded. He got up quickly, knocking his book to the floor. He stooped to get it and then made for the door but Barry grabbed him by the arm. Eugene winced. Barry was squeezing, hard.
"You head on down there Stanton, me and Freckles here have got some things to talk about," said Barry, and Eugene groaned inside his head, he hated that nickname.
"It's cool man, I'll just stick around until you guys are through," said Joey and Eugene immediately wished he hadn't.
"No, you'll head on down to the lounge and then you'll sit down and then you'll wait there," said Barry as he shoved Eugene towards the back of the room and stepped in front of Joey. "That crap you call music gave me a headache and I'm in a bad mood and quite frankly, I don't want to see your face."
Joey narrowed his eyes and returned Barry's steely gaze and for a few seconds Eugene thought they'd throw down, but then Joey glanced over at Eugene who just gave him the thumbs up sign and waved him off. Joey grinned again.
"Whatever man. I'll see you down there, Gene," he called and then he was gone. Barry slammed the door and turned around, his face was sporting a grin too, but it wasn't like Joey's mischievous one, this one was all evil.
Barry tossed a newspaper he'd been holding in his hand the entire time over to Eugene. Eugene hadn't noticed it in his hands before but it landed on Eugene's bed and Eugene glanced down at it and then looked over at Barry with a puzzled expression.
"Turn it over and read Freckles. You've been holding out on me," said Barry and the tone of his voice was frightening. Eugene felt a hard, cold lump rise into his throat as he reached down to grasp the paper. When he flipped it around he nearly passed out.
There, on the front page of the paper was a picture of the fabulous Frogman. Eugene's alter ego. Only this picture wasn't of Eugene in action, doing good deeds. Eugene hadn't done any type of super-heroing since he'd come to Indiana. He'd promised his father he wouldn't. Eugene read haltingly, glancing every so often at Barry whose grin grew even wider every time Eugene looked over at him. This "Frogman" was definitely different. He'd fired electricity from his hands and had robbed an armored truck. When police had tried to stop him he'd electrocuted two of them, killing them. Two other officers were in the hospital with second-degree burns. Eugene felt sick to his stomach. The whole world around him became gray. He thought he might pass out.
"That's me," said a voice from far away and Eugene dimly registered Barry in front of him. Barry looked huge and menacing, even bigger than he usually did. And that grin, that horrible grin was still on his face as he pointed at the picture on the paper.
"That's right Freckles. You see, one night while you and that prick friend of yours Joey were out having fun and goofing off, well, I decided to see if you had anything worth taking," Barry said, and Eugene wanted to scream. It was like a dream. This couldn't be happening.
"I found some stupid photo album with your folks in it, a little bit of cash, and then I found that wacky green jumpsuit of yours." Barry's words kept coming and Eugene's head was spinning now. Barry had found the suit and gone out in it, and he'd killed people.
"At first I thought it was some kind of crazy Halloween costume or something, but then I remembered reading in the Daily Bugle about the 'Frogman' fighting some chick called the 'White Rabbit' in New York."* Barry grabbed Eugene and punched him hard in the stomach. Eugene doubled over in pain, his head swimming. "And I figured it out pretty quick from there. You were the Frogman, Freckles. You were the big hero."
(* Yep, it happened in Marvel's Spectacular Spider-Man #185 - Will)
Barry turned around and crossed to his side of the room. Eugene couldn't get up, could barely breath. It was all just too much.
"So I examined your little suit and it really is quite a piece of work. An exoskeleton that boosts your strength, a computer controlled guidance system that helps with your leaps. Pretty impressive stuff." Barry reached under his bed and pulled something out. Eugene almost lost control of his bladder when he saw what it was. His frog-suit, the maniac had his frog-suit.
"Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking this is your property. How dare I take something that's rightfully yours? Well have no fear Eugene because your frog outfit is safe and sound in your bag. Your recently packed bag I might add."
Eugene looked up at Barry with confusion and hurt and fear in his eyes and Barry's grin only grew wider.
"I'm not your ordinary run of the mill jock, Freckles. No sir, this jock has brains. I designed handheld electrostatic devices to fit inside the gloves of my suit. This suit is faster than yours, stronger than yours, not to mention deadlier. I even thought of a new name for my persona. Elec-Toad. A little corny granted, but I think it fits."
"Y-You're insane," Eugene muttered weakly. Everything Barry was telling him was insane. His head was starting to clear but he almost wished it wouldn't. Barry looked insane too. His face was bright red and veins were sticking out on his forehead.
"Maybe that explains the corny name then huh?" said Barry as tears slipped down Eugene's face. "Aw, is the poor baby crying? I guess I'd be shedding tears too if I had to leave all my friends behind and go away."
"What are you t-talking about?" asked Eugene although he already had a pretty good idea what Barry was going to say next.
"I'm talking about you Freckles. You're heading home. This campus is only big enough for one amphibian."
Eugene couldn't believe the words coming out of his roommate's mouth. It was all so surreal.
"I've already bought you a plane ticket. You're already packed. Your suitcases are underneath your bed. Anything else you need, you don't need. Get it?" Barry said and Eugene felt so weak, so pathetic. Barry was so frightening and fearsome. There was no way he could handle this on his own. He could leave and get on a plane, come back with Spidey maybe. Spidey was his friend. He could handle Barry easily.
"And if you think about telling anybody, if you think about calling the cops or telling your daddy or anybody else about who I am or what I'm doing here then I'll track you down Eugene." Eugene groaned again and Barry's grin widened. It was the grin of a predator who had its prey trapped.
"Don't be like that Eugene, I won't kill you buddy. After all, you're the one who supplied me with the power to do whatever I want. No, I won't kill you, I'll kill your family. I'll kill your dad and his pretty Italian wife. I'll kill anybody and everybody you ever cared about. You think about that," Barry said and then, surprisingly, Barry turned his back to Eugene, balled his suit in his hands and made for the door. Eugene wanted to do something, stop him, fight him, but he just couldn't.
"I'm leaving Eugene. When I get back, you better be gone. If you're not, there'll be hell to pay." And with that, Barry opened the door and left.
Eugene watched the door for a good five minutes before he was able to work up the courage to move. Barry said he had to be gone before he got back and Eugene had to get out. He got to his feet and pulled the suitcases out from under the bed. He felt so weak and they felt so heavy. He popped them open and looked inside. He had to see if Barry had forgotten anything he really might need.
There, packed at the very top, was his costume. The frog-mask seemed to stare accusingly at him. Was he really going to leave? He was supposed to be a hero. Heroes didn't turn tail and run every time they were threatened. But was he really even a hero? His father, Spider-Man and everyone else seemed to always doubt him. He slammed the suitcase shut in frustration. What in God's name was he going to do?*
(* This story continued in Marvel Fanfare #9 - Will)
"A DAY IN THE LIFE OF WILSON FISK"
by Des Davies
"Isn't there someone we should check with before we do this Javier?"*
"Don't sweat it Carlos. We'll be in and out before anyone knows we're here. We'll be on the road back to Mexico by tomorrow night."
The short, balding man looked around at the other men in the hotel room and received nods of confirmation.
"You worry too much, amigo. Sometimes you are worse than my old Grandmother. Chill my friend. This will be just as smooth as we planned. Trust me."
Carlos looked at his old friend and nodded his head. He still had reservations about the whole job, but he covered them by taking a long drink from the bottle he held in his hand.
Settling back onto the bed of the rundown motel they were staying at, he went back to waiting. He couldn't help but think of what they would have done to someone who carried out a job in their territory.
(* All dialogue is translated from Spanish - Will)
The car stopped in front of the Excelsior hotel on the Upper West Side and the doorman stepped forward to open the door.
The man that stepped out could easily have been viewed as being very obese. In fact it was an image that he purposefully cultivated, much like the rest of his 'public' persona. That was the very reason he was here at the hotel tonight.
Truth be told, Wilson Fisk hated charity events. Simply giving money to those that had no thought of working for it was a thought that sickened him.
He smiled up at the old doorman and slipped a twenty-dollar bill into his hand. Fisk watched as the money disappeared with practiced ease into the man's jacket.
Fisk was dressed with elegant style in black pants and shirt, topped off with a white tuxedo and onyx-set broach at his throat. In his hand he carried a silver capped cane that he tapped the floor with as he strode towards the hotel's entrance.
Another doorman opened the main door and he continued into the foyer. His entrance did not go unnoticed as the duty manager moved to intercept him.
"Mr. Fisk. We are very grateful for your presence here tonight. The fact that a notable personage such as yourself is willing to support this charity has influenced several others to attend. Thank you."
Fisk smiled down at the unctuous little man standing in front of him. "Why Mr. Richards, I'm more than glad to support such a worthwhile cause. Why don't you show me to the ballroom?"
The duty manager turned and began to lead his guest down one of the corridors leading off the main lobby. Fisk managed, due to years of practice, to keep a smile on his face as the manager maintained a steady monologue as he walked. He made several polite replies to points the manager raised, but he paid little attention to the man's pointless drivel.
As they neared the doors to the ballroom where the event was to take place, Fisk stopped and said, "Thank you Mr. Richards. Your help has been very appreciated and it has been a pleasure talking to you."
The duty manager recognized the subtle nuances of being told he was no longer required and stepped to the side with, "You are most welcome Mr. Fisk. I hope you enjoy the evening."
Fisk smiled at him once more and then moved past to the ballroom immediately dismissing the man's presence from his mind.
Two hours later the charity event was in full swing.
Wilson Fisk sat at one of the tables closest to the stage and while keeping a smile on his face he watched and listened to the others at the table.
The tall man with the drooping moustache and slicked back hair was Giovanni Rimaldi, the CEO of Kautex Plastics.
"Certainly believes himself to be the ladies man," Fisk thought to himself. "Unfortunately, for him, it's costing him quite a bit to keep that information from his wife."
To his right was Rimaldi's wife, Veronica. Fisk glanced at her and was amazed that her husband would look elsewhere with such a beautiful woman at home. Fisk laughed to himself as he thought about how she too had bedded half of her household. That coupled with his knowledge that Giovanni was seeing other women... sometimes information could be very useful.
Immediately to Fisk's left, between himself and Veronica Rimaldi, sat another woman. She was the one person at the table that he knew nothing about. Which, in itself, was unusual. He had checked on the people he was to be seated with, and his information service had been able to glean almost nothing on Maude Cannon.
He glanced at her again. She was dressed conservatively in a simple, yet elegant black dress that came to her knee. Not the style of the season, but on her it fit. She possessed a certain patrician beauty, with a nose that was definitely overly large, full red lips and commanding brown eyes. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a casually charming fashion. She was the editor of a magazine based in Vermont. She had no police record and the rest of her details had proven small-town.
Compared with the others at the table, Fisk realized she was the most interesting one there, as he knew so little about her. The other four people at the table were all known to him. Randolph Jackson worked at one of the largest trading houses in the city and at his wife's command was siphoning money into offshore accounts. His wife didn't realize that he was also sending money to the accounts of the Kingpin also.
Hilke and Bernadette Hermes were from old German money. They had some very strange tastes that the Kingpin was able to satisfy, but that meant they were beholden to him, as they could not afford for that information to get out.
As Wilson Fisk turned to talk to Maude Cannon, he heard a noise that caused him to turn abruptly and look towards the room's main doors.
Anger filled him in a torrent as he took in the two men standing there with shotguns. He turned further and saw more men standing at various other points around the room. All armed with either shotguns or uzis and dressed in black suits, shirts and ties with black masks covering their faces. As he turned back to his table, another man, dressed similarly to the others, walked onto the stage.
Fisk noticed several other guests had begun to notice the presence of the armed men, and as the man on the stage tapped the microphone many gasps broke out in the room.
"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. We apologize for interrupting your evening, but as you were feeling so generous in supporting charity tonight, we thought we would impose on your good will."
Several shouts erupted from the floor, but they were silenced as the men on stage screamed "Shut Up!" and began waving a pistol in their direction.
Silence descended immediately and the man continued.
"As I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted. My compadres are guarding the exits so any attempt to leave or call for help would be foolish. Several others will be coming to your tables to get your 'donations', please give generously it's for a very worthy cause."
A man approached Fisk's table and thrust a large black sack at Hilke Hermes. The sight of the uzi machine gun pointing at his stomach was enough to convince the German to put his wallet into the sack. He was about to pass the sack onwards but was stopped as the gunman said, "Jewelry too."
Quickly Hermes removed the ring from his finger and slipped it into the bag. Then he passed it on to his wife.
Each person quickly added his or her valuables to the sack. The few who initially tried to avoid placing everything in, were encouraged by the sight of the gun. As the sack reached Maude Cannon, she pulled the ring off her finger, and placed it and her purse into the sack before passing it on to Wilson Fisk.
Fisk looked up at the gunman and made eye contact. The smile was gone from Fisk's face to be replaced by blankness. The gunman looked away first and Fisk went to hand him the sack.
"Hey Fatso," came a voice from the stage which drew all attention back to the table Wilson Fisk was sitting at.
Fisk turned and looked back up at the man on the stage.
"You need to put something into the sack before you pass it back. It's a charity event where everyone contributes."
Wilson Fisk looked up at the man on the stage for long moments, and it felt like the whole room was holding its breath. Fisk slowly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and he ignored the intake of breath at his table. Slowly he pulled his wallet out and dropped it into the sack.
The man on the stage turned away from the microphone and walked off the stage to stand before Wilson Fisk.
"We are so very grateful for your donation, but don't you want to help the starving kids some more? Why don't you add that pretty broach to the bag?"
Fisk slowly reached up and unclipped the broach at his throat. Carefully he reached into the bag and placed the broach inside.
"Thank you. I knew you'd see it my way," said the leader of the thieves. He turned and walked back to the stage, while the other gunman collected the sack and moved on.
Five minutes later the man on the stage announced, "We are leaving now. We thank you for your generosity, and would be grateful if you did not leave the room for ten minutes after we leave."
That said he stepped off the stage and headed for the doors at the rear of the room. The other armed men walked towards the same entrance but kept their eyes and guns leveled on the room as they did so.
As the last man stepped out of the room, Wilson Fisk stood and walked towards the main doors of the room. He felt the eyes of those in the room upon him but ignored them. They were less than dust to him now. The men in the room had made a mistake tonight, and he was going to make sure penance was paid in full.
Two hours later a mini-van sped south and west away from New York City. The men in the van were jubilant. They were counting their gains from the night's raid.
The driver had his foot down on the gas pedal, but he was keeping to the speed limit. Javier would have his head if he got pulled over by the cops at this point. He thought back to the room and couldn't get the image out of his head of the cold eyes that had looked up at him. They had spoken of death and he had been all too willing to walk away from the fat man. Javier had seen it though and gotten involved.
The music was cranked up loud and he had to turn it down a little as he slowed the vehicle. "Javier," he called back, "we have a cop car signaling us to pull over."
The man he had addressed looked out the rear window and swore.
"Put everything back in the bags and settle down muchachos. It's probably a simple check."*
(* Once again all dialogue is translated from Spanish - Will)
The men moved to follow the commands of their leader as the driver began to pull over to the side. The car with flashing lights pulled up behind them and a man dressed in a police uniform stepped out. He walked up to the driver's window.
"ID please, sir."
"Sure officer. What's the problem?"
The man dressed in the police officer uniform looked back at the driver and said, "You made a mistake tonight son, you ripped off the Kingpin. Now you have to pay the price."
More men stepped out of the darkness and the smoke from silenced pistols drifted into the night air.
The Kingpin of crime placed an onyx set broach back into its place in the jewelry cabinet.
Looking around he regarded the man standing on the other side of the desk.
"You left someone alive to make sure that the message was delivered? The rumors have been spread?"
The man nodded once for each question.
"See that Ms. Cannon gets her things back. Leave the others on my desk."
The man turned and walked out of the room. The Kingpin looked down at the items laid out in front of him and smiled. What new secrets would he be able to discover and use from this, he wondered?
THE END
"THE LAST LAUGH"
by Dino Pollard
My name is Phil Urich. I used to be the Green Goblin. Emphasis on "used to be". To save my uncle, Ben Urich, I used Harry Osborn's Green Goblin equipment, which included a mask that augmented my strength, increased my speed, and gave me the Lunatic Laugh, some sort of sonic thing I didn't understand too well.
Not too long ago, some whacked-out... thing calling itself Onslaught tried to like, take over the world or something. He unleashed the Sentinels on New York, and all the heroes tried their best to take them out.
Except for me. Well, not at first, anyway. I was so worried about saving my own skin that I wouldn't help out. But, then I decided to go for it. I figured I could probably take out a few Sentinels. I mean, with my super strength, pumpkin bombs, throwing bats, and Lunatic Laugh, how could they stand up to me?
Easily. The encounter nearly killed me--and I just took down one Sentinel. But... there was a downside. Some shrapnel shattered my mask, damaging the circuitry. It couldn't be fixed. My time as the Green Goblin was done.
So now I'm just Phil Urich. Normal, Phil Urich. Nothing special. Nothing ground-breaking.
Sure, I've thought about becoming a hero again. I've tried to find a way to repair the mask and glider. But, with the original Green Goblin returning not too long ago, maybe it's not the best idea.
Wait a minute... the warehouse I found Harry Osborn's equipment in... Maybe I could use that... maybe there's something else there. Another mask, or maybe a glider... anything I can use...
What's the use, anyway? With the Avengers and Fantastic Four back, it's not like I'm needed. Plus, didn't that Scarlet Spider guy return recently? And there's also rumors that there are some sort of mutant turtles running around or something. These guys know what they're doing. I'm just a kid who had some fun flying around the city.
My apartment. I'm not even sure if it can legally be called that. It's more like a closet.
It's all I can afford though. Uncle Ben helps me out a bit with money when I need it, and he's asked me several times if I wanted to stay with him. But I've gotta be on my own. I've gotta prove that I can do this on my own.
Yeah, I guess that's why I'm working at Blockbuster. I don't know what I'm even thinking. I should be going back to school.
I switch on the TV. Maybe there's something good on.
A Seinfeld rerun, not too bad I suppose. I leave it on as I go about putting away my uniform for Blockbuster. Wasn't this episode on last night...?
{{ We interrupt this program to bring you a special report. }}
{{ "Good evening. This is April O'Neil with CBNC News. An armed gunman has taken a local Starbucks hostage. We now go live to Trish Tilby on-location." }}
{{ "Thank you, April. This is the current situation. The police have the coffee shop surrounded, and are currently trying to make contact with the gunman. It's unknown yet if the gunman will reply to their attempts. At this point, patience, by both police and the hostages may be the only thing which saves these innocent lives today." }}
That Starbucks... it's not far from here... It's only down the block! I can be down there right away!
I quickly open the closet door and search through the clothes hanging there. Then, I find it. The green and purple costume of the Green Goblin. My costume.
The mask... I was able to get it semi-repaired, but it's not as good as it used to be. But people might die if I don't use it. Right now, I don't have a choice...
Mike Exner just wanted some respect. But he never got it. Not from customers, and certainly not from his co-workers. They all treated him as if he were a second-class citizen. As if Starbucks customers were really that high maintenance.
Well not anymore.
Now, Mike has the power. He has a gun. And he has his co-workers lying on the ground, hands on their heads. He would smile if he wasn't so pissed off.
Suddenly, the ceiling explodes. Several razor sharp bat-wings fly in. Many miss, but two hit Mike's arm, the gun dropping from his hand and skittering across the linoleum.
That's when "he" drops down.
"No way..." Mike mutters.
The Goblin says nothing, just leaps at Mike. The disgruntled employee moves to the side though, causing Phil Urich to fall into a wall.
He stands, reaching inside his pouch. A quick flick of the hand unleashes a pumpkin bomb. The explosion sends Exner flying across the room into the nearest wall.
Phil picks up the gun and tosses it to one of the hostages. Then, without even a word, he leaps out through the roof again, laughing all the way.
...I can't believe I just did that...
I may not ever become the Green Goblin again, but now I've gotten the satisfaction of winning a battle on my own.
It feels nice. It feels right. I got the last laugh.
THE END
"LIFE, DEATH AND ALL THINGS IN-BETWEEN"
by David Wheatley
"PETER!"
At the sound of her own voice Mary Jane Watson-Parker opened her eyes to the vast darkness that surrounded her. She didn't remember much of what had happened, nor how she had actually gotten here, but here she was. It was then she realized she was lying down, her arms crossed with her hands resting on her shoulders. It seemed strange to her that she should be in that position and she relaxed and sat up, seeing if there was anything out there other than the darkness.
It wasn't a black darkness, almost a velvet blue in hue, deep and dark, almost purple even but there didn't seem to be anything or anyone within her range of sight and she swung her legs off of the slab on which she had lain. She tried to call out but no words came to her, much to her discomfort. There were no sounds, nothing to see and she could smell nothing. Her senses were deprived of the information that she needed to make sense of all this, but the thing that crossed her mind now was her husband, Peter.
Where was he? Had someone, one of the many enemies of Spider-Man, done this to her to get at him, and if so who? She closed her eyes and concentrated, thinking back to what could have happened, but she got nowhere with that. When she opened her eyes, she could see a familiar figure and she gasped.
Gwen Stacey stood before her, looking no older than the last time they had met, before her death several years ago. She seemed paler than normal though, with almost a phosphorescent glow about her entire being, and Mary Jane realized where she was and things started to become clearer to her.
"Gwen?" she said, suddenly able to talk, as if her realization that she was no longer dependent on the physical world allowed her the freedom to speak again.
"Hello, MJ," said Gwen. "I didn't think we'd see each other so soon." Mary Jane gave a gulp, needing to confirm things that she knew to be true.
"Am I dead?" she asked in a small voice, and Gwen nodded. "Oh, God."
"I'm sorry, Mary Jane," said Gwen. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know."
"What happened to me? Why don't I remember?"
"You will, in time," said Gwen. "I was asked to come and meet you, to help you adjust to the way things are for you now."
"Is this all there is?" asked Mary Jane, looking around, concerned at the lack of detail about the place.
"No," said Gwen. "That comes later, but first you have some things to take care of."
"What?" Asked Mary Jane.
"You have to let go."
"Let go?"
"Peter. You have to leave him behind. You will always remember him, but he had to be able to get on with his life. He can't do that without you letting him go."
"But how?" said MJ, the apprehension showing in her voice.
"Do you know what happened when I died?" asked Gwen and MJ shook her head.
"Not really. Peter's never really spoken about it. Did you know he was Spider-Man?"
"No," admitted Gwen. "The Goblin never told me why I'd been kidnapped, or what was happening."
"I know you were angry at Spider-Man," said MJ. "You blamed him for the death of your father."
"I did," she said, softly, "even in death, but as time passed and I spoke with my dad over and over again, I resolved that part of my life. Once I had spoken to him, I was able to let go of Peter. It didn't happen for a long time but eventually it did."
"What happened?" said MJ.
"Peter killed me," said Gwen and MJ gasped. "He tried to save me but he made a mistake. I was falling, I remember that now and Peter reacted on instinct, and fired a web-line to snag me. It caught me but the recoil threw me up. A small jerk can cause whiplash, but this..."
"Snapped your neck," finished MJ. "Does Peter know?" Gwen nodded. "Oh, Peter why didn't you tell me?"
"Denial," said an older, kinder sounding voice. She looked over and saw a man she had never met but recognized instantly.
"Ben," she breathed, and he nodded.
"If Peter admits what happened, then it means he can't be who he is anymore. As Spider-Man he's a hero, if he admits he's a killer, then he is everything he's fighting against."
"What about Charlie?" asked MJ, thinking back to the events when Peter had been in Germany, events involving Wolverine that had led to the death of Ned Leeds and the spy known as Charlemagne.*
(* In Spider-Man Versus Wolverine - David)
"That was a suicide," said Ben. "The lady knew what she was doing and how Peter would react. He still feels guilt over it, but there can be no blame assigned to him for it. In Gwen's case, it was his fault and that's different.
"I was Gwen's guide when she came here," said Ben, "and eventually when she learned what had happened, and who Peter was, we stopped seeing each other, because she couldn't accept me while she couldn't accept him."
"But now I know what happened properly. That Peter didn't mean it, that he meant to save me and made a mistake."
"Peter's only human," said MJ. "He may have strength, agility and all the rest, but one day his luck will run out. He's still as frail and capable of error as anyone else."
"I know that more than most," said Ben. "Peter's guilt over me concerned me for a long time, and his guilt over Gwen even more. Peter's got a lot of regrets, a lot more than a person his age ought to have."
"How do I say goodbye?" asked MJ and Gwen took her hand.
"Come with me," she said.
"With us," said Ben.
"But the rules," said Gwen, but Ben shook his head.
"Sometimes we bend the rules a touch. We all do, we never break them, no matter the temptation, but we can bend them."
"What are the rules?" asked MJ.
"You'll learn, in time," said Gwen. Ben nodded and MJ hopped off the dais on which she had lain. Once she was off it, it disappeared.
"This is going to take some getting used to, " she said, and Ben chuckled while Gwen smiled. "Guess we have plenty of time." Ben led the way, while the two girls followed, MJ thinking it strange that they were together like this. In another lifetime, Peter and Gwen would have married, have gotten everything that MJ had had.
Yes, she knew there had been hard times and that she and Peter had been through some bad patches, but they'd pulled through and she had always wondered how bad those times would have been if Gwen had been in her shoes. She loved Peter, she had for a long time, but his eyes had been for Gwen Stacy and no matter what she had done, the best she could be with Peter was friends. It had hurt, had hurt a lot and then Gwen had gone and though she was sorry, she'd been glad because it cleared the way for her.
It was a horrible thing to think and she had never told Peter, in the same way he had never told her the truth of what had happened that day. Ben was right, if Spider-Man was known as a killer, then he would cease to be Spider-Man. Peter wouldn't let himself be that, because he knew that who he was would be tarnished. Yes, he was often faced with that choice but he wasn't that kind of person. He never had been, never would be.
She looked at Gwen wistfully as they walked through the darkness. Gwen caught her looking at her and MJ turned her head.
"I know," said Gwen. "I know how difficult it must be for you being here with me. I know you love Peter, the same as I do and I can't even imagine how hard it must have been for you to see us together like that before I died. But you have to know, you've never been second best to him."
"Sometimes..." MJ started but allowed the words to die in her throat.
"Peter had to get on with his life, and there was an attraction between the two of you from the start, you know that. I... felt intimidated by you and I knew if I ever lost Peter to anyone, you'd be the one."
"What?" Exclaimed MJ, in surprise.
"Peter was always defending Spider-Man, and I took the opposite view and I knew that he'd be the death of us eventually. Just didn't realize it'd be quite so literal." MJ closed her eyes. "Sorry, bad joke," apologized Gwen.
"It's not that," said MJ. "I... I... I was glad you died." She blurted it out. Gwen nodded.
"I know," she said. "I know, because it's a natural reaction. I'd have felt the same way, but MJ, I don't blame you. You made him happy and that's what counted."
"I'm going to miss him," said MJ and Gwen held her.
"I know," she said. "I do, and so does Ben and everyone else here. We can keep an eye over them but we can't be with them. Rules are rules."
"What about going back?" asked MJ. "People do it all the time."
"How many people have you known of Peter's to come back, not as clones and enemies aside?"
"Oh," said MJ, with a sigh.
"We're here," said Ben as they opened the veil from their world to the other and he and Gwen stood there.
"What now?" asked MJ.
"You go on alone," said Ben. "We can't go with you."
"Rules," said MJ, getting the idea. "Okay," she said as she composed herself and then she stepped through. As she vanished Gwen looked at Ben.
"Is this too soon?" she asked.
"It's never soon enough," answered Ben. "Peter has a lot to do. He needs to find someone so that he can ease his burden. To do that he has to get over her, and to do that she has to let him go." Gwen nodded.
"It's so unfair," she said.
"It always is," said Ben. "It always is."
Peter was sleeping, but MJ didn't recognize the apartment. It wasn't theirs, that much was certain, and it looked as though Peter was alone, so it had to be with a friend or someone. MJ sat down on the bed and watched her husband sleeping. To anyone else it would seem as if he was sleeping peacefully, but Mary Jane had known him a long time, had slept with him for years, and she knew that his sleep was troubled. She ran her hand across his cheek and then she started to speak.
"Peter. Oh, Peter. We never seem to get a break do we, tiger? I don't know what's happened to you, to the apartment, heck, I don't even know what's happened to me yet, but I do know we're not going to meet again for a long time. I'm dead, Peter. Not a hoax, not a dream, though I wish to God it were because there's so much I never got to tell you, to show you, to do with you.
"But I can't tell you, because there's no point. It won't make a difference now, because I'm gone and you're alone again. Telling you would be like getting a letter you misread because the words you want to see are the better ones, but when you look at it again, you see what you thought was said isn't what you thought it was. That kind of hurt is bad enough and you're going to go through a lot before it gets better and I don't want to do that to you.
"You've healed from this kind of thing before, and you'll do so again. I just want you to know that I love you. I always have, I always will and there won't be a day that goes by where I don't think of you. I won't think of what might have been, because there's nothing I can do. I want you to go on, to not live in my shadow. You need to be with someone, to have someone to hold on dark nights, someone who'll give you the love you need on the level you are on. I don't know how to help you with that, tiger. I guess it's something you have to do for yourself." She concentrated, recalling the lines of a poem she knew, and she seemed to know that it would help somehow.
"When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be green the grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember
And if thou wilt, forget.
"I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget."*
(* The poem is entitled 'Song' by Christina Rosseti - David)
She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.
"I love you, Peter Parker," she said and then light cascaded down around her, as she progressed on to the next stage of her life.
THE END
Part I
by Michael Exner III
[*note to reader: This story takes place before Amazing Spider-Man #13 - Will]
"Hey Eugene man, we're gonna go down to the court and play some hoops. You wanna come?" said one of the college students from the group clustered around Eugene Slodnik's dormitory. It was spring break at the University of Indiana, and while many of the students had gone away to exotic locales for expensive vacations, many others were stuck at school, studying hard and struggling to get by. Eugene Slodnik wasn't struggling as hard as some, but he was struggling. The guys surrounding him now were one of the reasons for that. All they ever seemed to do was play games and yet they either passed, or didn't care if they failed.
When Eugene had first come to school he'd been overweight and reserved in attitude and appearance. Most of the other students either ridiculed or ignored him. All of that changed the day he met Joey Stanton. Joey was the one twirling the basketball on his finger and beckoning Eugene to go out now. When Eugene had met him, Joey hadn't seemed to care if Eugene was an outcast. They'd become friends quickly and even though Joey sometimes used Eugene to write reports for him or do his schoolwork, he still made time for Eugene outside of class. Eugene gradually got into sports, lost weight, and, though he was still shy, became less reserved as far as his personality went.
But now Eugene was struggling in school, Joey didn't come to him for answers anymore. Eugene supposed he should have been grateful that Joey considered him part of his "crew" now, but Eugene really needed to get his schoolwork done. The huge radio blasting hip-hop on Joey's shoulder wasn't doing him any favors.
"I can't Joey, I've got a lot of work to do just to catch up this semester and if I don't take care of it I'm screwed big time."
"Hey no problem, compadre. You want I should hang around? I don't really feel like balling with these losers anyhow," Joey said and Eugene grinned. Joey had really become a good friend. Eugene began to say that Joey should go ahead anyway, but suddenly a voice from behind the crowd of guys erupted in anger and fury.
"What the hell is going on here!? You idiots get out of the way before I cripple somebody," shouted the voice and Eugene groaned. His roommate was here. Barry Hemlock. Barry was a bully, plain and simple. He played basketball for the university and before the season had started he'd been a great guy. After it was over and they'd had one of the worst years in recorded history however, things had changed. Barry had become a real jerk. He constantly threatened Eugene and every time they got in a fight over something Barry would get increasingly violent. It got to the point where Eugene was afraid to be in the room with Barry.
The crowd in the doorway quickly disappeared and soon only Joey was left standing there with Barry glaring at him menacingly. Joey had his trademark smirk and Eugene hoped Barry wouldn't take it for anything more than false bravado. Joey was tough and Joey was cool, but taking on a 6'8, 280lb. power forward wouldn't be very wise.
"You got something to say Stanton?" growled Barry and Eugene crossed his fingers and held his breath. If Joey just kept his mouth shut then they could both head down to the lounge, as far away from Barry as possible.
"No problem here Barry, me and Eugene was just headed down to the library so we could get some work done. Ain't that right 'Genie?" Joey said and Eugene let his breath out as he nodded. He got up quickly, knocking his book to the floor. He stooped to get it and then made for the door but Barry grabbed him by the arm. Eugene winced. Barry was squeezing, hard.
"You head on down there Stanton, me and Freckles here have got some things to talk about," said Barry, and Eugene groaned inside his head, he hated that nickname.
"It's cool man, I'll just stick around until you guys are through," said Joey and Eugene immediately wished he hadn't.
"No, you'll head on down to the lounge and then you'll sit down and then you'll wait there," said Barry as he shoved Eugene towards the back of the room and stepped in front of Joey. "That crap you call music gave me a headache and I'm in a bad mood and quite frankly, I don't want to see your face."
Joey narrowed his eyes and returned Barry's steely gaze and for a few seconds Eugene thought they'd throw down, but then Joey glanced over at Eugene who just gave him the thumbs up sign and waved him off. Joey grinned again.
"Whatever man. I'll see you down there, Gene," he called and then he was gone. Barry slammed the door and turned around, his face was sporting a grin too, but it wasn't like Joey's mischievous one, this one was all evil.
Barry tossed a newspaper he'd been holding in his hand the entire time over to Eugene. Eugene hadn't noticed it in his hands before but it landed on Eugene's bed and Eugene glanced down at it and then looked over at Barry with a puzzled expression.
"Turn it over and read Freckles. You've been holding out on me," said Barry and the tone of his voice was frightening. Eugene felt a hard, cold lump rise into his throat as he reached down to grasp the paper. When he flipped it around he nearly passed out.
There, on the front page of the paper was a picture of the fabulous Frogman. Eugene's alter ego. Only this picture wasn't of Eugene in action, doing good deeds. Eugene hadn't done any type of super-heroing since he'd come to Indiana. He'd promised his father he wouldn't. Eugene read haltingly, glancing every so often at Barry whose grin grew even wider every time Eugene looked over at him. This "Frogman" was definitely different. He'd fired electricity from his hands and had robbed an armored truck. When police had tried to stop him he'd electrocuted two of them, killing them. Two other officers were in the hospital with second-degree burns. Eugene felt sick to his stomach. The whole world around him became gray. He thought he might pass out.
"That's me," said a voice from far away and Eugene dimly registered Barry in front of him. Barry looked huge and menacing, even bigger than he usually did. And that grin, that horrible grin was still on his face as he pointed at the picture on the paper.
"That's right Freckles. You see, one night while you and that prick friend of yours Joey were out having fun and goofing off, well, I decided to see if you had anything worth taking," Barry said, and Eugene wanted to scream. It was like a dream. This couldn't be happening.
"I found some stupid photo album with your folks in it, a little bit of cash, and then I found that wacky green jumpsuit of yours." Barry's words kept coming and Eugene's head was spinning now. Barry had found the suit and gone out in it, and he'd killed people.
"At first I thought it was some kind of crazy Halloween costume or something, but then I remembered reading in the Daily Bugle about the 'Frogman' fighting some chick called the 'White Rabbit' in New York."* Barry grabbed Eugene and punched him hard in the stomach. Eugene doubled over in pain, his head swimming. "And I figured it out pretty quick from there. You were the Frogman, Freckles. You were the big hero."
(* Yep, it happened in Marvel's Spectacular Spider-Man #185 - Will)
Barry turned around and crossed to his side of the room. Eugene couldn't get up, could barely breath. It was all just too much.
"So I examined your little suit and it really is quite a piece of work. An exoskeleton that boosts your strength, a computer controlled guidance system that helps with your leaps. Pretty impressive stuff." Barry reached under his bed and pulled something out. Eugene almost lost control of his bladder when he saw what it was. His frog-suit, the maniac had his frog-suit.
"Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking this is your property. How dare I take something that's rightfully yours? Well have no fear Eugene because your frog outfit is safe and sound in your bag. Your recently packed bag I might add."
Eugene looked up at Barry with confusion and hurt and fear in his eyes and Barry's grin only grew wider.
"I'm not your ordinary run of the mill jock, Freckles. No sir, this jock has brains. I designed handheld electrostatic devices to fit inside the gloves of my suit. This suit is faster than yours, stronger than yours, not to mention deadlier. I even thought of a new name for my persona. Elec-Toad. A little corny granted, but I think it fits."
"Y-You're insane," Eugene muttered weakly. Everything Barry was telling him was insane. His head was starting to clear but he almost wished it wouldn't. Barry looked insane too. His face was bright red and veins were sticking out on his forehead.
"Maybe that explains the corny name then huh?" said Barry as tears slipped down Eugene's face. "Aw, is the poor baby crying? I guess I'd be shedding tears too if I had to leave all my friends behind and go away."
"What are you t-talking about?" asked Eugene although he already had a pretty good idea what Barry was going to say next.
"I'm talking about you Freckles. You're heading home. This campus is only big enough for one amphibian."
Eugene couldn't believe the words coming out of his roommate's mouth. It was all so surreal.
"I've already bought you a plane ticket. You're already packed. Your suitcases are underneath your bed. Anything else you need, you don't need. Get it?" Barry said and Eugene felt so weak, so pathetic. Barry was so frightening and fearsome. There was no way he could handle this on his own. He could leave and get on a plane, come back with Spidey maybe. Spidey was his friend. He could handle Barry easily.
"And if you think about telling anybody, if you think about calling the cops or telling your daddy or anybody else about who I am or what I'm doing here then I'll track you down Eugene." Eugene groaned again and Barry's grin widened. It was the grin of a predator who had its prey trapped.
"Don't be like that Eugene, I won't kill you buddy. After all, you're the one who supplied me with the power to do whatever I want. No, I won't kill you, I'll kill your family. I'll kill your dad and his pretty Italian wife. I'll kill anybody and everybody you ever cared about. You think about that," Barry said and then, surprisingly, Barry turned his back to Eugene, balled his suit in his hands and made for the door. Eugene wanted to do something, stop him, fight him, but he just couldn't.
"I'm leaving Eugene. When I get back, you better be gone. If you're not, there'll be hell to pay." And with that, Barry opened the door and left.
Eugene watched the door for a good five minutes before he was able to work up the courage to move. Barry said he had to be gone before he got back and Eugene had to get out. He got to his feet and pulled the suitcases out from under the bed. He felt so weak and they felt so heavy. He popped them open and looked inside. He had to see if Barry had forgotten anything he really might need.
There, packed at the very top, was his costume. The frog-mask seemed to stare accusingly at him. Was he really going to leave? He was supposed to be a hero. Heroes didn't turn tail and run every time they were threatened. But was he really even a hero? His father, Spider-Man and everyone else seemed to always doubt him. He slammed the suitcase shut in frustration. What in God's name was he going to do?*
(* This story continued in Marvel Fanfare #9 - Will)
"A DAY IN THE LIFE OF WILSON FISK"
by Des Davies
"Isn't there someone we should check with before we do this Javier?"*
"Don't sweat it Carlos. We'll be in and out before anyone knows we're here. We'll be on the road back to Mexico by tomorrow night."
The short, balding man looked around at the other men in the hotel room and received nods of confirmation.
"You worry too much, amigo. Sometimes you are worse than my old Grandmother. Chill my friend. This will be just as smooth as we planned. Trust me."
Carlos looked at his old friend and nodded his head. He still had reservations about the whole job, but he covered them by taking a long drink from the bottle he held in his hand.
Settling back onto the bed of the rundown motel they were staying at, he went back to waiting. He couldn't help but think of what they would have done to someone who carried out a job in their territory.
(* All dialogue is translated from Spanish - Will)
The car stopped in front of the Excelsior hotel on the Upper West Side and the doorman stepped forward to open the door.
The man that stepped out could easily have been viewed as being very obese. In fact it was an image that he purposefully cultivated, much like the rest of his 'public' persona. That was the very reason he was here at the hotel tonight.
Truth be told, Wilson Fisk hated charity events. Simply giving money to those that had no thought of working for it was a thought that sickened him.
He smiled up at the old doorman and slipped a twenty-dollar bill into his hand. Fisk watched as the money disappeared with practiced ease into the man's jacket.
Fisk was dressed with elegant style in black pants and shirt, topped off with a white tuxedo and onyx-set broach at his throat. In his hand he carried a silver capped cane that he tapped the floor with as he strode towards the hotel's entrance.
Another doorman opened the main door and he continued into the foyer. His entrance did not go unnoticed as the duty manager moved to intercept him.
"Mr. Fisk. We are very grateful for your presence here tonight. The fact that a notable personage such as yourself is willing to support this charity has influenced several others to attend. Thank you."
Fisk smiled down at the unctuous little man standing in front of him. "Why Mr. Richards, I'm more than glad to support such a worthwhile cause. Why don't you show me to the ballroom?"
The duty manager turned and began to lead his guest down one of the corridors leading off the main lobby. Fisk managed, due to years of practice, to keep a smile on his face as the manager maintained a steady monologue as he walked. He made several polite replies to points the manager raised, but he paid little attention to the man's pointless drivel.
As they neared the doors to the ballroom where the event was to take place, Fisk stopped and said, "Thank you Mr. Richards. Your help has been very appreciated and it has been a pleasure talking to you."
The duty manager recognized the subtle nuances of being told he was no longer required and stepped to the side with, "You are most welcome Mr. Fisk. I hope you enjoy the evening."
Fisk smiled at him once more and then moved past to the ballroom immediately dismissing the man's presence from his mind.
Two hours later the charity event was in full swing.
Wilson Fisk sat at one of the tables closest to the stage and while keeping a smile on his face he watched and listened to the others at the table.
The tall man with the drooping moustache and slicked back hair was Giovanni Rimaldi, the CEO of Kautex Plastics.
"Certainly believes himself to be the ladies man," Fisk thought to himself. "Unfortunately, for him, it's costing him quite a bit to keep that information from his wife."
To his right was Rimaldi's wife, Veronica. Fisk glanced at her and was amazed that her husband would look elsewhere with such a beautiful woman at home. Fisk laughed to himself as he thought about how she too had bedded half of her household. That coupled with his knowledge that Giovanni was seeing other women... sometimes information could be very useful.
Immediately to Fisk's left, between himself and Veronica Rimaldi, sat another woman. She was the one person at the table that he knew nothing about. Which, in itself, was unusual. He had checked on the people he was to be seated with, and his information service had been able to glean almost nothing on Maude Cannon.
He glanced at her again. She was dressed conservatively in a simple, yet elegant black dress that came to her knee. Not the style of the season, but on her it fit. She possessed a certain patrician beauty, with a nose that was definitely overly large, full red lips and commanding brown eyes. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a casually charming fashion. She was the editor of a magazine based in Vermont. She had no police record and the rest of her details had proven small-town.
Compared with the others at the table, Fisk realized she was the most interesting one there, as he knew so little about her. The other four people at the table were all known to him. Randolph Jackson worked at one of the largest trading houses in the city and at his wife's command was siphoning money into offshore accounts. His wife didn't realize that he was also sending money to the accounts of the Kingpin also.
Hilke and Bernadette Hermes were from old German money. They had some very strange tastes that the Kingpin was able to satisfy, but that meant they were beholden to him, as they could not afford for that information to get out.
As Wilson Fisk turned to talk to Maude Cannon, he heard a noise that caused him to turn abruptly and look towards the room's main doors.
Anger filled him in a torrent as he took in the two men standing there with shotguns. He turned further and saw more men standing at various other points around the room. All armed with either shotguns or uzis and dressed in black suits, shirts and ties with black masks covering their faces. As he turned back to his table, another man, dressed similarly to the others, walked onto the stage.
Fisk noticed several other guests had begun to notice the presence of the armed men, and as the man on the stage tapped the microphone many gasps broke out in the room.
"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. We apologize for interrupting your evening, but as you were feeling so generous in supporting charity tonight, we thought we would impose on your good will."
Several shouts erupted from the floor, but they were silenced as the men on stage screamed "Shut Up!" and began waving a pistol in their direction.
Silence descended immediately and the man continued.
"As I was about to say, before I was so rudely interrupted. My compadres are guarding the exits so any attempt to leave or call for help would be foolish. Several others will be coming to your tables to get your 'donations', please give generously it's for a very worthy cause."
A man approached Fisk's table and thrust a large black sack at Hilke Hermes. The sight of the uzi machine gun pointing at his stomach was enough to convince the German to put his wallet into the sack. He was about to pass the sack onwards but was stopped as the gunman said, "Jewelry too."
Quickly Hermes removed the ring from his finger and slipped it into the bag. Then he passed it on to his wife.
Each person quickly added his or her valuables to the sack. The few who initially tried to avoid placing everything in, were encouraged by the sight of the gun. As the sack reached Maude Cannon, she pulled the ring off her finger, and placed it and her purse into the sack before passing it on to Wilson Fisk.
Fisk looked up at the gunman and made eye contact. The smile was gone from Fisk's face to be replaced by blankness. The gunman looked away first and Fisk went to hand him the sack.
"Hey Fatso," came a voice from the stage which drew all attention back to the table Wilson Fisk was sitting at.
Fisk turned and looked back up at the man on the stage.
"You need to put something into the sack before you pass it back. It's a charity event where everyone contributes."
Wilson Fisk looked up at the man on the stage for long moments, and it felt like the whole room was holding its breath. Fisk slowly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and he ignored the intake of breath at his table. Slowly he pulled his wallet out and dropped it into the sack.
The man on the stage turned away from the microphone and walked off the stage to stand before Wilson Fisk.
"We are so very grateful for your donation, but don't you want to help the starving kids some more? Why don't you add that pretty broach to the bag?"
Fisk slowly reached up and unclipped the broach at his throat. Carefully he reached into the bag and placed the broach inside.
"Thank you. I knew you'd see it my way," said the leader of the thieves. He turned and walked back to the stage, while the other gunman collected the sack and moved on.
Five minutes later the man on the stage announced, "We are leaving now. We thank you for your generosity, and would be grateful if you did not leave the room for ten minutes after we leave."
That said he stepped off the stage and headed for the doors at the rear of the room. The other armed men walked towards the same entrance but kept their eyes and guns leveled on the room as they did so.
As the last man stepped out of the room, Wilson Fisk stood and walked towards the main doors of the room. He felt the eyes of those in the room upon him but ignored them. They were less than dust to him now. The men in the room had made a mistake tonight, and he was going to make sure penance was paid in full.
Two hours later a mini-van sped south and west away from New York City. The men in the van were jubilant. They were counting their gains from the night's raid.
The driver had his foot down on the gas pedal, but he was keeping to the speed limit. Javier would have his head if he got pulled over by the cops at this point. He thought back to the room and couldn't get the image out of his head of the cold eyes that had looked up at him. They had spoken of death and he had been all too willing to walk away from the fat man. Javier had seen it though and gotten involved.
The music was cranked up loud and he had to turn it down a little as he slowed the vehicle. "Javier," he called back, "we have a cop car signaling us to pull over."
The man he had addressed looked out the rear window and swore.
"Put everything back in the bags and settle down muchachos. It's probably a simple check."*
(* Once again all dialogue is translated from Spanish - Will)
The men moved to follow the commands of their leader as the driver began to pull over to the side. The car with flashing lights pulled up behind them and a man dressed in a police uniform stepped out. He walked up to the driver's window.
"ID please, sir."
"Sure officer. What's the problem?"
The man dressed in the police officer uniform looked back at the driver and said, "You made a mistake tonight son, you ripped off the Kingpin. Now you have to pay the price."
More men stepped out of the darkness and the smoke from silenced pistols drifted into the night air.
The Kingpin of crime placed an onyx set broach back into its place in the jewelry cabinet.
Looking around he regarded the man standing on the other side of the desk.
"You left someone alive to make sure that the message was delivered? The rumors have been spread?"
The man nodded once for each question.
"See that Ms. Cannon gets her things back. Leave the others on my desk."
The man turned and walked out of the room. The Kingpin looked down at the items laid out in front of him and smiled. What new secrets would he be able to discover and use from this, he wondered?
THE END
"THE LAST LAUGH"
by Dino Pollard
My name is Phil Urich. I used to be the Green Goblin. Emphasis on "used to be". To save my uncle, Ben Urich, I used Harry Osborn's Green Goblin equipment, which included a mask that augmented my strength, increased my speed, and gave me the Lunatic Laugh, some sort of sonic thing I didn't understand too well.
Not too long ago, some whacked-out... thing calling itself Onslaught tried to like, take over the world or something. He unleashed the Sentinels on New York, and all the heroes tried their best to take them out.
Except for me. Well, not at first, anyway. I was so worried about saving my own skin that I wouldn't help out. But, then I decided to go for it. I figured I could probably take out a few Sentinels. I mean, with my super strength, pumpkin bombs, throwing bats, and Lunatic Laugh, how could they stand up to me?
Easily. The encounter nearly killed me--and I just took down one Sentinel. But... there was a downside. Some shrapnel shattered my mask, damaging the circuitry. It couldn't be fixed. My time as the Green Goblin was done.
So now I'm just Phil Urich. Normal, Phil Urich. Nothing special. Nothing ground-breaking.
Sure, I've thought about becoming a hero again. I've tried to find a way to repair the mask and glider. But, with the original Green Goblin returning not too long ago, maybe it's not the best idea.
Wait a minute... the warehouse I found Harry Osborn's equipment in... Maybe I could use that... maybe there's something else there. Another mask, or maybe a glider... anything I can use...
What's the use, anyway? With the Avengers and Fantastic Four back, it's not like I'm needed. Plus, didn't that Scarlet Spider guy return recently? And there's also rumors that there are some sort of mutant turtles running around or something. These guys know what they're doing. I'm just a kid who had some fun flying around the city.
My apartment. I'm not even sure if it can legally be called that. It's more like a closet.
It's all I can afford though. Uncle Ben helps me out a bit with money when I need it, and he's asked me several times if I wanted to stay with him. But I've gotta be on my own. I've gotta prove that I can do this on my own.
Yeah, I guess that's why I'm working at Blockbuster. I don't know what I'm even thinking. I should be going back to school.
I switch on the TV. Maybe there's something good on.
A Seinfeld rerun, not too bad I suppose. I leave it on as I go about putting away my uniform for Blockbuster. Wasn't this episode on last night...?
{{ We interrupt this program to bring you a special report. }}
{{ "Good evening. This is April O'Neil with CBNC News. An armed gunman has taken a local Starbucks hostage. We now go live to Trish Tilby on-location." }}
{{ "Thank you, April. This is the current situation. The police have the coffee shop surrounded, and are currently trying to make contact with the gunman. It's unknown yet if the gunman will reply to their attempts. At this point, patience, by both police and the hostages may be the only thing which saves these innocent lives today." }}
That Starbucks... it's not far from here... It's only down the block! I can be down there right away!
I quickly open the closet door and search through the clothes hanging there. Then, I find it. The green and purple costume of the Green Goblin. My costume.
The mask... I was able to get it semi-repaired, but it's not as good as it used to be. But people might die if I don't use it. Right now, I don't have a choice...
Mike Exner just wanted some respect. But he never got it. Not from customers, and certainly not from his co-workers. They all treated him as if he were a second-class citizen. As if Starbucks customers were really that high maintenance.
Well not anymore.
Now, Mike has the power. He has a gun. And he has his co-workers lying on the ground, hands on their heads. He would smile if he wasn't so pissed off.
Suddenly, the ceiling explodes. Several razor sharp bat-wings fly in. Many miss, but two hit Mike's arm, the gun dropping from his hand and skittering across the linoleum.
That's when "he" drops down.
"No way..." Mike mutters.
The Goblin says nothing, just leaps at Mike. The disgruntled employee moves to the side though, causing Phil Urich to fall into a wall.
He stands, reaching inside his pouch. A quick flick of the hand unleashes a pumpkin bomb. The explosion sends Exner flying across the room into the nearest wall.
Phil picks up the gun and tosses it to one of the hostages. Then, without even a word, he leaps out through the roof again, laughing all the way.
...I can't believe I just did that...
I may not ever become the Green Goblin again, but now I've gotten the satisfaction of winning a battle on my own.
It feels nice. It feels right. I got the last laugh.
THE END
"LIFE, DEATH AND ALL THINGS IN-BETWEEN"
by David Wheatley
"PETER!"
At the sound of her own voice Mary Jane Watson-Parker opened her eyes to the vast darkness that surrounded her. She didn't remember much of what had happened, nor how she had actually gotten here, but here she was. It was then she realized she was lying down, her arms crossed with her hands resting on her shoulders. It seemed strange to her that she should be in that position and she relaxed and sat up, seeing if there was anything out there other than the darkness.
It wasn't a black darkness, almost a velvet blue in hue, deep and dark, almost purple even but there didn't seem to be anything or anyone within her range of sight and she swung her legs off of the slab on which she had lain. She tried to call out but no words came to her, much to her discomfort. There were no sounds, nothing to see and she could smell nothing. Her senses were deprived of the information that she needed to make sense of all this, but the thing that crossed her mind now was her husband, Peter.
Where was he? Had someone, one of the many enemies of Spider-Man, done this to her to get at him, and if so who? She closed her eyes and concentrated, thinking back to what could have happened, but she got nowhere with that. When she opened her eyes, she could see a familiar figure and she gasped.
Gwen Stacey stood before her, looking no older than the last time they had met, before her death several years ago. She seemed paler than normal though, with almost a phosphorescent glow about her entire being, and Mary Jane realized where she was and things started to become clearer to her.
"Gwen?" she said, suddenly able to talk, as if her realization that she was no longer dependent on the physical world allowed her the freedom to speak again.
"Hello, MJ," said Gwen. "I didn't think we'd see each other so soon." Mary Jane gave a gulp, needing to confirm things that she knew to be true.
"Am I dead?" she asked in a small voice, and Gwen nodded. "Oh, God."
"I'm sorry, Mary Jane," said Gwen. "It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know."
"What happened to me? Why don't I remember?"
"You will, in time," said Gwen. "I was asked to come and meet you, to help you adjust to the way things are for you now."
"Is this all there is?" asked Mary Jane, looking around, concerned at the lack of detail about the place.
"No," said Gwen. "That comes later, but first you have some things to take care of."
"What?" Asked Mary Jane.
"You have to let go."
"Let go?"
"Peter. You have to leave him behind. You will always remember him, but he had to be able to get on with his life. He can't do that without you letting him go."
"But how?" said MJ, the apprehension showing in her voice.
"Do you know what happened when I died?" asked Gwen and MJ shook her head.
"Not really. Peter's never really spoken about it. Did you know he was Spider-Man?"
"No," admitted Gwen. "The Goblin never told me why I'd been kidnapped, or what was happening."
"I know you were angry at Spider-Man," said MJ. "You blamed him for the death of your father."
"I did," she said, softly, "even in death, but as time passed and I spoke with my dad over and over again, I resolved that part of my life. Once I had spoken to him, I was able to let go of Peter. It didn't happen for a long time but eventually it did."
"What happened?" said MJ.
"Peter killed me," said Gwen and MJ gasped. "He tried to save me but he made a mistake. I was falling, I remember that now and Peter reacted on instinct, and fired a web-line to snag me. It caught me but the recoil threw me up. A small jerk can cause whiplash, but this..."
"Snapped your neck," finished MJ. "Does Peter know?" Gwen nodded. "Oh, Peter why didn't you tell me?"
"Denial," said an older, kinder sounding voice. She looked over and saw a man she had never met but recognized instantly.
"Ben," she breathed, and he nodded.
"If Peter admits what happened, then it means he can't be who he is anymore. As Spider-Man he's a hero, if he admits he's a killer, then he is everything he's fighting against."
"What about Charlie?" asked MJ, thinking back to the events when Peter had been in Germany, events involving Wolverine that had led to the death of Ned Leeds and the spy known as Charlemagne.*
(* In Spider-Man Versus Wolverine - David)
"That was a suicide," said Ben. "The lady knew what she was doing and how Peter would react. He still feels guilt over it, but there can be no blame assigned to him for it. In Gwen's case, it was his fault and that's different.
"I was Gwen's guide when she came here," said Ben, "and eventually when she learned what had happened, and who Peter was, we stopped seeing each other, because she couldn't accept me while she couldn't accept him."
"But now I know what happened properly. That Peter didn't mean it, that he meant to save me and made a mistake."
"Peter's only human," said MJ. "He may have strength, agility and all the rest, but one day his luck will run out. He's still as frail and capable of error as anyone else."
"I know that more than most," said Ben. "Peter's guilt over me concerned me for a long time, and his guilt over Gwen even more. Peter's got a lot of regrets, a lot more than a person his age ought to have."
"How do I say goodbye?" asked MJ and Gwen took her hand.
"Come with me," she said.
"With us," said Ben.
"But the rules," said Gwen, but Ben shook his head.
"Sometimes we bend the rules a touch. We all do, we never break them, no matter the temptation, but we can bend them."
"What are the rules?" asked MJ.
"You'll learn, in time," said Gwen. Ben nodded and MJ hopped off the dais on which she had lain. Once she was off it, it disappeared.
"This is going to take some getting used to, " she said, and Ben chuckled while Gwen smiled. "Guess we have plenty of time." Ben led the way, while the two girls followed, MJ thinking it strange that they were together like this. In another lifetime, Peter and Gwen would have married, have gotten everything that MJ had had.
Yes, she knew there had been hard times and that she and Peter had been through some bad patches, but they'd pulled through and she had always wondered how bad those times would have been if Gwen had been in her shoes. She loved Peter, she had for a long time, but his eyes had been for Gwen Stacy and no matter what she had done, the best she could be with Peter was friends. It had hurt, had hurt a lot and then Gwen had gone and though she was sorry, she'd been glad because it cleared the way for her.
It was a horrible thing to think and she had never told Peter, in the same way he had never told her the truth of what had happened that day. Ben was right, if Spider-Man was known as a killer, then he would cease to be Spider-Man. Peter wouldn't let himself be that, because he knew that who he was would be tarnished. Yes, he was often faced with that choice but he wasn't that kind of person. He never had been, never would be.
She looked at Gwen wistfully as they walked through the darkness. Gwen caught her looking at her and MJ turned her head.
"I know," said Gwen. "I know how difficult it must be for you being here with me. I know you love Peter, the same as I do and I can't even imagine how hard it must have been for you to see us together like that before I died. But you have to know, you've never been second best to him."
"Sometimes..." MJ started but allowed the words to die in her throat.
"Peter had to get on with his life, and there was an attraction between the two of you from the start, you know that. I... felt intimidated by you and I knew if I ever lost Peter to anyone, you'd be the one."
"What?" Exclaimed MJ, in surprise.
"Peter was always defending Spider-Man, and I took the opposite view and I knew that he'd be the death of us eventually. Just didn't realize it'd be quite so literal." MJ closed her eyes. "Sorry, bad joke," apologized Gwen.
"It's not that," said MJ. "I... I... I was glad you died." She blurted it out. Gwen nodded.
"I know," she said. "I know, because it's a natural reaction. I'd have felt the same way, but MJ, I don't blame you. You made him happy and that's what counted."
"I'm going to miss him," said MJ and Gwen held her.
"I know," she said. "I do, and so does Ben and everyone else here. We can keep an eye over them but we can't be with them. Rules are rules."
"What about going back?" asked MJ. "People do it all the time."
"How many people have you known of Peter's to come back, not as clones and enemies aside?"
"Oh," said MJ, with a sigh.
"We're here," said Ben as they opened the veil from their world to the other and he and Gwen stood there.
"What now?" asked MJ.
"You go on alone," said Ben. "We can't go with you."
"Rules," said MJ, getting the idea. "Okay," she said as she composed herself and then she stepped through. As she vanished Gwen looked at Ben.
"Is this too soon?" she asked.
"It's never soon enough," answered Ben. "Peter has a lot to do. He needs to find someone so that he can ease his burden. To do that he has to get over her, and to do that she has to let him go." Gwen nodded.
"It's so unfair," she said.
"It always is," said Ben. "It always is."
Peter was sleeping, but MJ didn't recognize the apartment. It wasn't theirs, that much was certain, and it looked as though Peter was alone, so it had to be with a friend or someone. MJ sat down on the bed and watched her husband sleeping. To anyone else it would seem as if he was sleeping peacefully, but Mary Jane had known him a long time, had slept with him for years, and she knew that his sleep was troubled. She ran her hand across his cheek and then she started to speak.
"Peter. Oh, Peter. We never seem to get a break do we, tiger? I don't know what's happened to you, to the apartment, heck, I don't even know what's happened to me yet, but I do know we're not going to meet again for a long time. I'm dead, Peter. Not a hoax, not a dream, though I wish to God it were because there's so much I never got to tell you, to show you, to do with you.
"But I can't tell you, because there's no point. It won't make a difference now, because I'm gone and you're alone again. Telling you would be like getting a letter you misread because the words you want to see are the better ones, but when you look at it again, you see what you thought was said isn't what you thought it was. That kind of hurt is bad enough and you're going to go through a lot before it gets better and I don't want to do that to you.
"You've healed from this kind of thing before, and you'll do so again. I just want you to know that I love you. I always have, I always will and there won't be a day that goes by where I don't think of you. I won't think of what might have been, because there's nothing I can do. I want you to go on, to not live in my shadow. You need to be with someone, to have someone to hold on dark nights, someone who'll give you the love you need on the level you are on. I don't know how to help you with that, tiger. I guess it's something you have to do for yourself." She concentrated, recalling the lines of a poem she knew, and she seemed to know that it would help somehow.
"When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be green the grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember
And if thou wilt, forget.
"I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget."*
(* The poem is entitled 'Song' by Christina Rosseti - David)
She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.
"I love you, Peter Parker," she said and then light cascaded down around her, as she progressed on to the next stage of her life.
THE END