Back to GatefoldIssue #25 by Mike Exner III
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"LAUGHTER IN THE DARK - Part Two - A Rose for the Dead"
Spider-Man perched alone. His thoughts were as dark as the night around him. The rain fell in fat, heavy droplets that trickled over the Spider's mask and ran in rivulets down his muscular back. His vision was blurred from the intensity of the rain that fell all around him. But Spider-Man didn't need to see to know what was in front of him. He had passed this place on numerous occasions in the past. He would come here at times and crouch in this same exact spot. He would gaze down in the direction he was looking now.
"You play the game almost as well as your master," Spider-Man said. But all that came in reply was the crashing tones of thunder as a blaze of lightning struck the ground from somewhere far off in the distance. The sound of the thunder diminished gradually and was replaced by the pattering of rain on the blackened roof.
Spider-Man twitched his fingers and a line of fluidic webbing fired from his palm. The line was lost in the rain, but Spider-Man knew the city - his city - perfectly. There was hardly any slack in his descent as Spider-Man swung down to the street.
The building was just as Spider-Man remembered it from that night so long ago. All that had changed over the years were some extra boards nailed over an ever-increasing amount of broken windows. There were no real markings of graffiti or other signs of defacement. New York was a city in a constant state of change. It seemed remarkable to Spider-Man that it was still standing after all these years.
"Just my luck," Spider-Man said as he took a single step forward.
SPIDER-SENSE
Spider-Man brought his attention to the sky and smiled beneath his mask. There was no humor in it. It was the smile of a hunter satisfied that his prey had finally come crawling from the brush.
"I'm glad you're here, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she descended through the heavy rain that sheathed her. "I was afraid you might decide it was better to simply stay away."
There were no words from the Spider as he crouched low to the ground and pounced. The Rose Goblin smiled as Spider-Man hurtled towards her. There was no humor in her smile. But where the smile of Spider-Man had been one of a satisfied hunter, the smile of the Rose Goblin was filled with nothing but insanity… and a maddening hint of pleasure.
There was a rush of heat as the Rose Goblin angled her glider up and away from Spider-Man. The Rose Goblin watched as Spider-Man twisted his body to snatch at the soaring ebony glider, but the Rose Goblin hovered just out of reach. Spider-Man fired his web-shooters and both thin streams of fluid connected with the underside of the glider. Spider-Man yanked on the strands and launched his body up and into the air directly at the Rose Goblin again.
"As persistent as ever, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she fired a barrage of energy from her extended index fingers. "Some say persistence is the better part of valor. But persistence can be a weakness when practiced by one with nothing but rage to feed him."
Spider-Man twisted in the air and avoided several blasts from the crimson-clad woman as the rain continued to fall all around him. And then the pumpkin bombs were in front of him. His screaming spider-sense slammed throughout his skull with such ferocity that it made Spider-Man's eyes brim with pained tears.
But the pumpkin bombs did not explode on contact with Spider-Man's body. Instead they ruptured and a putrid gas filled the air around Spider-Man's head.
"No!" Spider-Man bellowed as the gas filled his lungs. The effects of the rancid vapor were almost instantaneous as Spider-Man felt his muscles knot and tighten and his vision swim sickly before his eyes.
"I'm afraid so, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she fired a blazing shot of energy into the chest of Spider-Man. Peter was blown back into the air and plummeted to the ground. Spider-Man twisted his body as he descended through the torrential downpour. His chest smoldered with an intense heat as Spider-Man struggled to adjust himself in mid-air. He thrust his arms down to the concrete and fired his web-shooters. A plume of webbing escaped from the firing mechanisms and formed a billowing mass on the rain-slicked street below.
Spider-Man connected with his self-made cushion and bounced away towards the warehouse. He landed squarely on his feet and spread his legs to keep from falling to the ground. The effects of the gas were playing havoc with his senses and his reflexes. He raised his head wearily to the sky and observed the Rose Goblin as she descended through the rain.
"Are your eyes blurring, Spider-Man? Are your senses dulled?" the Rose Goblin said as she continued to move forward. "I could strike you down with a simple flick of my wrist. You probably can't even register the pumpkin bomb I have in my dainty grip… let alone avoid it."
"Forget the pumpkin bomb. If there's anything you have a dainty grip on, lady… it's your sanity," Spider-Man said and then reeled as his vision doubled and went a sickly gray.
His spider-sense screamed again and the vision of Spider-Man cleared just as the Rose Goblin streaked down towards him. Spider-Man was unable to react as her fist lashed out and struck him across the mouth. The coppery tinge of blood spurted into Spider-Man's mouth as he left his feet and flew through the air. His back connected roughly with the hard brick wall of the warehouse and Peter Parker felt something inside give way. A brilliant white light flashed before his eyes and then faded to gray as the pain settled in.
The eyes of Spider-Man fluttered open and he peered down at the ground below. The rain mingled with the slivers of blood pouring from his mask. Spider-Man could see his reflection in the pools of liquid. His mask was in tatters on the right side of his face. A nasty gash was open and bleeding freely. Spider-Man placed a shaking hand to his face to staunch the flow of blood and watched as it oozed through his fingers.
"A razor-bat, Spider-Man…" the Rose Goblin said. Spider-Man watched as a red-clad foot squelched into the mix of blood and rainwater before him. "…tipped with more of the same drug that was in the gas you inhaled."
The Rose Goblin kicked out a foot and pressed it to Spider-Man's shoulder. She pushed and Spider-Man slammed against the wall of the warehouse once more. He felt something in his back shift. Almost as if something had popped loose in his spine.
"You're finished, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she approached. "Your strength is gone. My sedative has you on your last legs. Norman designed it himsemmmph…"
"Save it," Spider-Man said. The Rose Goblin reeled back as the shot of webbing that had struck her face plastered itself over her mouth. Spider-Man turned towards the wall and spread his fingers over it.
"This is gonna hurt."
Spider-Man strained his muscles and lifted his feet onto the brick facing. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that the Rose Goblin was still ripping at the webbing over her mouth. He had a few seconds at the most. If he was going to regroup…
…you're skittering away like an insect, Peter.
Peter ignored the voice. He was regrouping, not running away. The Rose Goblin had drugged him. He needed time to recover if he had any chance of beating her. His hands shook violently as he pressed his fingers to the rippled brick face of the warehouse. Spider-Man strained his muscles and began to slowly climb the wall…
…when the hand closed itself around his ankle.
"Ah ah ah, Peter. I didn't say you could leave," the Rose Goblin said as she wrenched Spider-Man away from the wall. Crumbling bits of brick debris stuck to Spider-Man's fingers as he was yanked into the air and tossed backwards. His spider-sense erupted again and Spider-Man simply braced himself as he crashed into the pavement. His costume shredded as Spider-Man bounded and skid across the unrelenting surface of concrete.
Spider-Man struggled to his feet and his ribs and upper back bled hot, fiery agony through his body. The Rose Goblin stood in the middle of the street. Spider-Man narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth. His fists clenched in defiance.
"So brave," the Rose Goblin said. "So rebellious."
"So what?" Spider-Man said and then leapt. The Rose Goblin crouched low to the ground to avoid the lunge but Peter fired his web-shooters and a fine spray of webbing connected to her shoulder. Spider-Man yanked on the line with all of his strength as he flew overhead and lifted the Rose Goblin from her feet.
Spider-Man landed on the pavement and the Rose Goblin went sailing down the street and into the open window of what had once been a long abandoned novelty shop. Spider-Man watched the gaping maw of the shattered window for a long moment but no movement registered from within. Spider-Man crossed the street in one bounding leap and then cautiously approached the door.
Nothing. Not a sound to greet him.
The Spider placed his fingers on the door and wrenched it open. He slipped inside and moved along the dim shadows that covered the entirety of the small store. His spider-sense was dulled from the drugs that had been infused through his system. But even a sluggish spider-sense gave him an advantage in a room of complete dark.
And that was why it was such a surprise when the pumpkin bomb plunked down right in front of him.
The warning from his spider-sense sounded, but Spider-Man knew it was already too late. The explosion sent a tremor through the entire city block and all Spider-Man was able to do was shield himself by crouching into a tight ball of aching muscle as the explosion sent him hurtling out into the bitter cold of the night.
"You're looking good, old man," Robbie Robertson said as he beamed down at the man lying in the hospital bed before him.
J. Jonah Jameson smiled back. "No need to stroke my ego… how's my baby doing?"
"The Bugle? She's toast. Burned to the ground the second you left," Robbie said.
Jonah gave a dry chuckle and grimaced a bit as a white-hot flash of pain shot up his side. "Wouldn't surprise me in the least," he finally managed.
"You all right, Jonah?" Robbie asked. "Should I call a nurse?"
Jonah closed his eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm fine… just fine."
Robbie closed a hand on Jonah's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I have no doubt you're going to be fine. But you should take it easy for a while," Robbie said and then gave Jonah a comforting pat. "Go home to that pretty wife of yours."
"Any word from John?" Jonah said and Robbie could see tears thinly veiled behind Jonah's eyes. It was a sight that forced Robbie to look away. He had never seen his friend in such an agonized state.
"No," Robbie said finally. "But I know he'll turn up, Jonah. It's only a matter of time."
"Of course… of course," Jonah said. "John has always been headstrong. Always doing things his own way." Robbie brought his eyes back to Jonah and saw that the man had composed himself once more. The tears drying up like the water of an aged well.
"That's Randy I see out there, isn't it?" Jonah said and Robbie turned in the direction his friend was looking. Martha and Randy were both outside peering through the rectangular window in the hospital room door. At the sight of Jonah and Robbie looking in their direction, they both gave a hesitant wave.
Jonah lifted his hand in return. "He's a good boy. Glad to see he's back on his feet."
"He's always been strong," Robbie replied.
Jonah nodded. "But you were scared all the same. Scared for him."
"Yes."
"Then go on and spend some time with your son," Jonah said. "Marla will be here any minute. I think I can hold off the grim reaper until she gets back."
"Just so long as you don't light up in here."
"Would I do something like that?"
Robbie narrowed his eyes. "I'd better not find any cigar ashes. I'll be by here tomorrow morning to inspect."
"Sure," Jonah said. "And bring some work for me while you're at it. This hospital is as quiet as a tomb. I'm more worried about dying from boredom than I am from something breaking down in this old body of mine."
Robbie reached for the small table next to Jonah's bed and tossed him the remote control. "Watch some TV."
"It's only Tuesday. All my favorite shows are on Thursday," Jonah said. "Friends and E.R. are the lifeblood of this newspaperman."
"You're impossible. You know that?" Robbie said with a grin as he turned for the door. "Goodnight, Jonah."
"Night, Robbie."
Robbie Robertson stepped out of the hospital room and into the arms of his wife. He exhaled in a sigh of relief. He'd actually thought for a moment that he would break down when he saw Jonah lying so weak and pale in his hospital bed. Marla had assured Robbie that Jonah was recovering his strength more and more every minute. But the skinny wraith in the room surrounded by a flimsy hospital gown and bed sheets that covered him like a shroud was nothing like the Jonah Robbie knew.
"Let's go," Robbie said. Randy looked into the eyes of his father and immediately knew not to say another word. Martha looked a bit harder… a bit longer. But eventually she nodded and took her husband's hand. The three of them made their way to the elevator and stepped inside. The ride was swift and silent to the bottom floor. They stepped out into the rain-drenched night and Robbie drew in a fresh breath clear of the sickly smells of death and disinfectant that were commonplace in a building servicing the ill.
Robbie led his family to their car and stopped by the driver's side door as they climbed inside. His family was safe now. Randy had recovered and was smiling as he said something to his mother from the backseat. Martha, for her part, laughed in return. His family was whole. Robbie Robertson made a silent promise at that moment to make sure that nothing bad would ever befall them again.
But if Robbie Robertson had gazed upward… he would have seen the hovering platform floating a hundred feet above his head. He would have sensed the evil emanating from the figure on the platform as easily as he sensed the love he felt for his own family. If he had narrowed his eyes, a flicker of flame would have caught his eye as the creature peered down at Robbie from its perch. But Robbie never looked up and so was unaware as the figure watched him climb into his family sedan and roll away through the rain.
The eyes of the figure shifted then. Shifted to the hospital room of J. Jonah Jameson. Then the figure began to laugh. Laughed a laugh as cold as the freezing rain that flowed over the sleeping city. Then in the space of a second… the laughter stopped. And in the blink of an eye… the figure was gone.
It was the sound of his cat that woke Peter from his deep slumber. The gray fog of sleep lifted and Peter sat up in his own bed. He was in his apartment. Smoke was busying himself by cleaning his forepaws as he lay across Peter's chest.
Wait…
The Rose Goblin had drawn him across the city on a trail from the New York City general hospital to the warehouse where he had beaten the burglar who murdered his Uncle Ben so many years ago. They had fought. The battle had been violent and intense. It had ended with a pumpkin bomb exploding at the feet of Spider-Man. It had ended with Spider-Man… dying?
But now Peter was lying in his own bed with his cat cleaning itself on his chest.
"What the hell is going on?" Peter said and his voice echoed in his darkened bedroom. Smoke glanced up at Peter with a stare that seemed both inquisitive and disinterested at the same time.
Do what you want… but don't get up and ruin my rest area. The look seemed to whisper.
"Sorry, Smokey," Peter said and pushed the sheets away from his body. Smoke yowled once in annoyance and then leapt from the bed and onto the floor. The feline did a slow circle and peered up at Peter. Peter looked back into the liquid green eyes of the cat and shuddered. Something was wrong here.
"Not in Kansas anymore, Toto," Peter said and then closed his eyes. He swung his feet onto the floor and instead of hitting the wooden floor of his apartment… the toes of Peter Parker curled into the worn rug that had met his feet every day of his life.
No, every day of his teenaged life…
"At Aunt May's," Peter finished the thought and then opened his eyes. He was no longer in his apartment. Posters of the science fair and his old work desk with the ancient microscope sitting smack dab in the middle of a massive pile of books and science awards greeted him with all the old familiarity of thousands of waking mornings when he was a young boy.
And then something else greeted Peter Parker. But this time it was his sense of smell that was assaulted. Peter felt his mouth begin to water despite his every effort to deny what was happening.
Wheat cakes… the smell of his Aunt May's wheat cakes floating up from the kitchen and into his boyhood room. How many times had it been just like this over the years? How many times had Peter woken up to the smell of wheat cakes flooding his room and forcing him to clamber out of bed? Wasn't it just like this the day that Peter had woken up determined to make a name for himself in show business? Hadn't it been a day just like this when Peter had allowed the burglar to run past him? Hadn't it been a day just like this when his Uncle Ben had…
No. Better not to think of things like that… better to get out of bed and head downstairs before Aunt May came searching for him. Aunt May had always been really impatient when Peter didn't get up in time for breakf…
The cat. Smoke was still sitting in the middle of the floor… looking up at Peter with a look that made Peter want to turn away. But he couldn't turn away. The cat lifted itself from its haunches and turned for the door.
Aunt May. Aunt May would kill Peter if she knew he had brought a stray cat into the house. He had to stop Smoke before he got downstairs. If Aunt May saw Smoke she'd be sure to have a heart attack right there in the middle of the kitchen with the smell of wheat cakes…
Peter took a deep breath in through his nostrils. There was something else… something underneath the smell of the wheat cakes. The smell was familiar. Peter was sure that he had crossed the scent before. But like a memory that tickled the back of your mind - just out of reach - the scent drifted away before Peter could identify it.
The cat.
"Smoke," Peter whispered through clenched teeth. The cat was slipping out of the open door and into the hallway. From there it was just a few short steps to the staircase. Peter wouldn't have a chance of catching up to Smoke if the feline beat him to the stairs. Peter burst from his room and turned in the direction of the stairs.
And then all the breath flooded out of Peter in a rush. He was facing a door. A door he was very familiar with. A door he had consciously avoided for most of his adult life. He was no longer in the hallway of his boyhood home. Now Peter Parker was facing the door to the garage where he had spent long hours with his Uncle Ben as a child.
They had always spent time together. But Peter had always enjoyed their time in the garage the most. The conversations had always seemed more important as Uncle Ben tinkered with the engine of his ancient Monte Carlo. Peter would sit in front of his Uncle's toolbox and watch in awe as Uncle Ben went to work on the car. Oil changes and rotating the tires and replacing the fan belts and even playing with the constantly faltering radiator… there was nothing that Uncle Ben didn't know about his car.
The garage door would sit open to the bright afternoon sky and Peter and Uncle Ben would spend an entire day laughing and talking and sharing the sandwiches Aunt May always brought from the kitchen. There was nothing Peter enjoyed more than sharing a half dozen roast beef sandwiches with his Uncle Ben as they sat near the open hood of the Monte Carlo with the faint smell of motor oil and grease mingling with the fresh air and the blossoming flowers from Aunt May's garden. Now Peter knew what the smell beneath the wheat cakes had been. It had been the smell of the garage.
But there was always that one thing that Uncle Ben could never quite fix. The garage door was always stuck partially open. It would slide open easily enough. And to a certain point it would slide down on its track until it was almost closed. But the garage door would always jam with about a foot to go. Aunt May always yammered at Uncle Ben to get a new one. But Uncle Ben always said it would be a waste of money they didn't have. Forest Hills was a safe neighborhood. Nobody ever robbed anybody in Forest Hills Uncle Ben would say.
Aunt May harped on and on until Uncle Ben convinced her that he would fix it himself. And Uncle Ben would try. But no matter what he did to the door… it would always stick with about a foot of open space to spare. It frustrated Uncle Ben to no end. Eventually Uncle Ben would give up. Uncle Ben would forget that the door was even broken.
"No," Peter said as he looked at the door to the garage. "This isn't right."
The garage door was open about a foot. Just like it always had been when Peter was a boy. But it wasn't supposed to be that way now. Aunt May had the door replaced immediately after Uncle Ben had been…
Voices.
There were voices coming from the garage. Peter heard them clearly and recognized them instantly. It was his Uncle Ben and the burglar. Uncle Ben had heard the burglar sneaking underneath the garage door and had gone to investigate. Uncle Ben was facing down the burglar in what were going to be the last moments of his life. Peter was standing right outside the room where his Uncle Ben was shot and killed.
Peter wanted to move but found that he couldn't. He was frozen where he stood. A rustle stirred from behind him and Peter shifted his eyes away from the garage door. Smoke was there. The cat moved past Peter and rubbed against his legs. Its green eyes flashed to Peter's as the cat passed. Peter grew cold as he watched the cat flow underneath the garage door. The open space under the garage door was completely dark. Unimaginably black.
Then finally the shot rang out. A flash of white light came exuding from the slit in the darkness and Peter cried out in agony. He looked down and saw a dark slew of blood running down his own stomach. A blinding pain had settled into his chest. Peter looked away from his wound and watched in horror as a rush of smoke poured from the open space and flowed over his feet. The gray swirls of hazy vapor parted around Peter's legs as he sank to his knees.
But then a voice whispered like the crackling of dried and burning leaves. Peter looked to the garage door and saw the bloated face of his Uncle Ben. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears. His mouth oozed the blood that had filled his lungs.
"P-Peter," the dying Uncle Ben said and Peter opened his mouth to scream in horror. But then a hand closed itself over his mouth and turned Peter towards it. Peter fell back in terror as a pale face shrouded in crimson descended from the darkness.
"Wake up, Peter…" the voice of the Rose Goblin whispered. "Wake up."
"I don't know about this, Eugene," Jill said as she paused on the first step leading to the front door of her father's home.
Eugene turned and looked at Jill Stacy. Her dark hair fell loosely on her shoulders. Her blue eyes flashed like bottled lightning. Eugene was struck for the trillionth time by her mind-numbing beauty.
He descended the few steps that separated them and took Jill by her shoulders. "I'm right here with you. Nothing's going to happen while I'm here." Eugene took Jill's hand and gripped it tight.
"We'll just go inside and have a look. Nothing wrong with looking inside, right?"
"Ok," Jill said and allowed Eugene to lead her up the stairs.
They reached the wooden door and Eugene knocked sharply. "Paul? Paul, you in there?"
There was no answer. Jill felt the hairs on her neck stiffen and stand out from her skin like the needles in a sewing cushion.
"We should leave, Eugene. Something's wrong." And Jill could feel unease creep up her back like the shadow of some terrifying predator. Eugene turned to her and smiled and Jill had to fight back the urge to slap him. Why couldn't he sense the wrongness of this place? Why didn't he want to run as far and as fast as she did?
"It's ok, Jill," Eugene said and turned to the door. He reached out and closed a steady hand on the brass doorknob. "Paul, we're coming in, buddy."
The door swung open and Jill silently cursed. She had hoped that the door would be locked. That would have given her time to convince Eugene that it wasn't worth it to be here. She had the keys in her purse. She could have told him they were in her car… she could have told him…
Jill's thoughts stopped as if plugged by a drain. Paul was here. Right here in the house just as she'd feared he would be. But this wasn't the enraged junkie that had scared her so badly the day before. Now her brother was lying face down on the floor in a cooling pile of his own vomit. Paul's fists were clenched and his skin was pale. Jill absorbed all of this information in the blink of an eye. But the thing that kept drawing her eyes like a brutal accident on the side of the road was the needle sticking out of her brother's arm.
Jill tore her hand from Eugene's and ran to the side of her brother in a flash. She turned her brother onto his back and was greeted by the terrifying sight of his eyes rolled back far into his head. Not even a vague impression of his irises was visible.
Her brother was dying.
"Paul, wake up. Please, Paul. Please wake up…"
WAKE UP!
The voice slammed into the senses of Spider-Man and wrenched him from unconsciousness. He was lying face down on the drive outside of his Uncle Ben's garage. Even without opening his eyes he knew it had to be true. If he opened his eyes he would see his Uncle Ben lying dead before him. He would see the blood trickling from his uncle's mouth and maybe even see the feet of the burglar as he took aim with his gun. One death wouldn't be enough for the burglar. Not when he could press the gun to Peter's head and finish him too.
"No!" Peter screamed into the darkness and jumped to his feet. He was no longer in the driveway of his Aunt May's home. He was in the warehouse where he had fought and captured the burglar. Dust scattered throughout the air as Spider-Man spun on his heels and surveyed the open expanse around him. The dust was everywhere. It made it difficult for Peter to see.
But it wasn't only the dust. Spider-Man understood that as easily as he understood that his vision of Uncle Ben being killed in front of him was just a dream. It wasn't dust. It was gas… gas pouring from a pumpkin bomb at his feet. Harry had tried the same trick a number of times on Peter in the past. Hallucinatory gas, sleeping gas… even a specially designed gas used to shut down his spider-sense.
Spider-Man scanned the dust covered warehouse floor and found the pumpkin bomb. He fired a shot of webbing and it splattered on the floor in front of the orange sphere. The carved jack-o-lantern face of the pumpkin bomb seemed to laugh mockingly at Peter. He could almost hear the laughter echoing throughout the warehouse. Spider-Man felt his knees grow weak and his stomach curl. The gas was doing something to him. His balance, senses, strength, even his ability to focus all seemed to be weakening.
Spider-Man shook his head in an effort to clear it and fired his web-shooter again. This time the webbing sprayed over the pumpkin bomb thickly. The outpouring of gas abruptly stopped and slowly the sifting mist of poison began to clear from Spider-Man's eyes.
"I trust my little toy has you completely relaxed, Peter," the voice of the Rose Goblin said. "The concoction is a hallucinogenic of my own design. Designed to stimulate the nerve centers in the brain that power our dreams." The haze finally lifted completely and Spider-Man could see the Rose Goblin hovering on her glider across the room. She was no more than a few dozen feet away. But to Spider-Man in his weakened state she might have been all the way across the city at the top of the Empire State Building.
"How are your dreams, Peter?" The Rose Goblin said. "Any nightmares?"
"Enough," Spider-Man growled through his teeth and then hung his head in exhaustion. "You know who I am. I followed your trail. I played your sick little game. So now you've brought me here."
The Rose Goblin sat unmoving. "Yes."
"Why?" Spider-Man said. "Why all of this? For Norman? Is that what this has all been for? For that monster who…" and then Spider-Man was on his back with a terrible pain echoing throughout his chest. It wasn't until he looked up and saw the outstretched finger of the Rose Goblin smoking that he realized he had been shot.
"Do not speak of Norman as if he were less than human, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she descended to the ground. "As if he was the one to blame for your mistakes."
"Mistakes…?"
"Don't!" the Rose Goblin slammed a fist to the ground. "Don't stand there and pretend as if you are innocent, Spider. I fell in love with Norman and you killed him. The spider that sits on your chest is as black as your heart, Peter. It spreads its infection through you and into all those that you touch."
"You're a plague, Peter," the Rose Goblin continued. "When I met Norman it didn't take long for us to fall in love. At first I was afraid of him. He was powerful and there was something inside that he guarded. A secret." The Rose Goblin put her gloved hands to her breast and traced her fingers up to the pasty white flesh of her mask.
"But in time I learned that the true Norman Osborn was a compassionate and loving person… a good man. And the terrible secret he held, Peter?" the Rose Goblin tucked her fingers beneath her mask and began to pull it away from her face. "That terrible secret was you."
"From the moment he met you he knew that there was something wrong about you. He knew that you were sick. Diseased. That anyone who got close to you would end up dead. So he tried with all of his strength to stop you," the Rose Goblin paused and closed her eyes. "But he failed. You killed him. Just like you killed every other person you ever touched. Gwen Stacy…"
"No," Peter said and closed his eyes.
"Yes, Peter," the Rose Goblin continued. "Gwen. Her father. Harry Osborn. Jonah Jameson. Even your beloved Uncle Ben."
"No!" Peter clenched his hands into fists.
"Oh yes, Peter! Yes indeed," the Rose Goblin cackled. "You are a killer born and bred. And when Norman realized he couldn't stop you on his own he enlisted my help. He knew that together we would be able to stop you once and for all. But you killed him, Peter. You killed the only man I ever loved."
"Norman never loved you, Liz. He used you. Don't you remember? He…" Spider-man said. But when the Rose Goblin began to laugh he stopped. Her laughter was cold and cruel. Not the laughter of someone with any semblance of good humor… but the laugh of someone who had gone completely insane.
"Liz?" the Rose Goblin said. "Oh, Peter. How could you be so blind? Liz Osborn was just another of your many victims. Your diseased touch led poor Liz astray from the care of her father-in-law. Your touch sent Liz Osborn to the hospital poisoned and insane. Your touch turned little Normie Osborn into an orphan… a little boy without a mother or a father. If Liz was here I'm sure she would be as happy to see you suffer and die as I. But she is not here, Peter. I am not Liz Osborn."
"Then who… who are you?"
The Rose Goblin smiled and placed her hands beneath her mask again. "I am the one woman that Norman knew he could trust above all others. The one woman who knew your weaknesses and faults better than even you yourself. I cared for you once. But when Norman showed me what you were I was the one woman who he knew could crack your mind open like an eggshell and destroy you like the diseased monster you are."
The Rose Goblin slipped her mask over her head and let it fall to the floor. Peter Parker stood in silence as the Rose Goblin was finally revealed.
"Ashley…"
"Yes, Peter," the Rose Goblin said. "Your doctor. Your confidant. Your friend. The one you shared your most private thoughts and secrets with. But you kept more than your fair share of secrets. Didn't you, Peter?"
"No," Spider-Man said. "No."
"But Norman shared your secrets with me," the Rose Goblin said. "He whispered them to me in the night until your secrets were all I could think of…"
"But now Norman is dead and there is nothing else for me. He was my life, Peter. Do you understand that? I have nothing left. Nothing but my vengeance."
"He used you, Ashley," Spider-Man said. "Used you just like he used Liz. Brainwashed you into thinking you loved him just like he brainwashed Liz into thinking her husband had returned from the grave. Can't you see that?"
"I still love him, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she activated her glider and soared into the air. "There is no past tense to the feelings of love I have for Norman. They stretch into the afterlife."
"But my feelings of hatred for you are just as powerful, Peter. And I promise you. Long after you are dead. I will still hate you. And that hate will follow you straight into the pits of Hell. It will haunt you for your entire existence."
"Ashley, please," Spider-Man said. "You can stop this now. You're a doctor. You know this is wrong. You're dedicated to saving lives. Not destroying them."
"I am saving lives, Peter. I'm saving the countless number of victims you'll be sure to kill if I let you survive even one more day."
The Rose Goblin circled to the top of the warehouse and pressed a panel suspended there. Lights flooded the room and Peter was momentarily blinded. Then as his eyes grew accustomed to the light Spider-Man saw two things.
The first thing he saw was that he was directly in the middle of the warehouse. It was a perfect square and the Rose Goblin or perhaps just the company that had used the equipment before had completely cleared the space. There was nothing but the cold concrete floor and the barren brick walls to remind Spider-Man of how it had been all those years ago.
But there was something new in the warehouse as well. Two platforms were raised high into the air. Spider-Man looked from one to the other and saw the forms standing on the platforms. Spider-Man saw the large pits of liquid beneath the platforms. Spider-Man was sure of the contents of the pits without even thinking. Norman had fallen into a chamber filled with acid and been burned alive. But it hadn't been just acid. It had been his formula. The formula that turned Norman into the raving lunatic known as the Green Goblin. The formula would grant strength and power in a moderate enough dose. But it was fatal in heavier doses. Harry Osborn had died from the formula. In even heavier quantities the potion was as potent as the deadliest acid.
"Felicia Hardy," the Rose Goblin said. "The Black Cat. You loved her once. Didn't you, Peter? Is she the only woman left that you loved and haven't destroyed?"
Spider-Man looked away from the pit of Norman's deadly formula and up to the platform. Felicia was balanced precariously over the edge. She was bound tightly. There was no way for her to escape. Spider-Man closed his eyes and turned his head. A squall of sound echoed through the warehouse and Peter grimaced as if in pain.
"Ah…" the Rose Goblin sighed. "The baby is awake."
"No…" Peter said. But he opened his eyes and watched as the Rose Goblin hovered over to the second platform. A small crib sat there. The Rose Goblin passed over it once and then settled down on the platform. She reached inside and lifted a bundle to her chest. Peter watched in horror as the bundle moved. His mind flashed back to the pictures he had seen in the file Jonah had given him. Pictures of his child. Pictures of baby May.
"I'll kill you," Spider-Man said and the baby cried out again as the Rose Goblin placed the child back into the crib.
"Perhaps you will, Peter. I have no doubt that someone will die tonight. It could be me. Or Felicia. Or your child. Who is to say?" The Rose Goblin activated her goblin glider again and flew across the warehouse to another platform that began to rise from the ground.
"In your weakened state I think you'll only have time to save one of us. I could be wrong. Maybe you could even save two of us. But who will it be, Peter? What will you do? Who will you save?"
"How does this solve anything, Kafka!" Spider-Man placed his hands to the side of his head. His brain was throbbing in a sick rhythmic pulse. "All your talk of Spider-Man being a disease. Come kill me then. Destroy the disease. What does killing more innocents prove about you?"
"Nothing. But if this doesn't destroy you, Spider-Man… I don't know what will." The Rose Goblin reached for a button on her glider and pressed it.
And the platforms dropped away like the doors to a hangman's galley. Spider-Man watched in slow motion as his child, Felicia and the Rose Goblin began to fall.
Then he moved.
He fired a line of webbing at the vat of chemicals underneath the plummeting form of Felicia and pulled with all of his might as he jumped in the direction of his descending child. Spider-Man twisted in mid-air and the world went black for a terrifying moment. His head cleared and a red haze formed around his vision. There was no vat of chemicals beneath the Rose Goblin. Ashley Kafka was racing down to nothing but cold unrelenting concrete.
Spider-Man fired his second web-shooter and layered the ground below the Rose Goblin with webbing. A cushion of web began to form beneath the Rose Goblin as Spider-Man connected feet first with the wall beneath his falling baby.
The first line of web had grown unimaginably taut in the hand of Spider-Man. Spider-Man dropped to the ground and turned. The warehouse was a perfect square. But the far side of the building where Felicia was falling was at least a hundred feet away. He wasn't sure if his webbing would travel that far. He wasn't even sure he would be conscious after he tried what he intended to do.
Spider-Man gripped the thread of webbing in both of his hands and pulled with all of his might. Spider-Man felt his back spasm and his insides wail as his muscles fought to do what he desired. The metal creaked and groaned and finally split. The vat of chemicals beneath Felicia burst apart and went flooding onto the warehouse floor.
Spider-Man nearly collapsed. But he managed to look up and fired his webbing at the carriage that was falling out of the sky. He snagged it with his webbing and pulled. But the angle was wrong. The carriage was pulled downward at a faster rate and began to spin in the air. The baby was tossed clear and continued to descend. The infant was now clear of the danger from the acidic formula. But the threat of the ground was even closer.
Spider-Man crouched to the ground and leapt. His muscles protested by twanging like the strings of a badly tuned guitar. Spider-Man grunted as his back cracked and the open air stung the wound in his chest.
The baby plummeted. Spider-Man soared… reached out. And then finally Spider-Man closed his fingers around the infant and cradled her to his chest.
Spider-Man glanced up and fired the web-shooter from his free hand again. His leap towards the baby had brought him that much closer to the far side of the warehouse where Felicia was falling. His web connected with the ground and formed an identical web cushion to the one underneath the Rose Goblin. Spider-Man watched Felicia fall towards it and blew out a sigh of relief.
"No!" The voice came from behind him and Spider-Man landed and then turned with the child held firmly in his grasp. The Rose Goblin had watched as Spider-Man made his moves to save them. She had watched and she had seethed with a rage that ate at her insides like the acid that had destroyed her love. Her Norman. It wasn't fair. Spider-Man was a disease. He was a killer. He…
The Rose Goblin made a decision. She shifted in mid-air. Spider-Man watched in horror as she did it. Her movements were spasmodic but explicit. The air rushed past the face of Ashley Kafka and she screamed in wild peals of laughter that echoed through the warehouse. Spider-Man was unable to react as the Rose Goblin pushed her body away from the cushion of webbing and collided with the hard concrete floor. The laughter stopped abruptly and the warehouse fell as silent as a tomb.
Spider-Man turned and walked to Felicia who was struggling to break free of the manacles surrounding her hands and feet. Spider-Man crouched down to her and set the baby down. Felicia watched as Spider-Man placed his hands around the shackles and broke them with ease. He moved to her mouth and pulled the gag away. Felicia breathed deeply and immediately wished she hadn't. The scent of blood and sweat poured off of Peter like a wave. But there was another scent beneath it… a scent of silent despair.
Peter looked to the baby and then back to Felicia. She nodded. The child had begun to cry and Felicia placed her hands underneath the small girl. She lifted the baby and held it to her breast as she watched Peter approach the body of the Rose Goblin.
The body of Ashley Kafka was twisted and unmoving. Her limbs were splayed at odd, inhuman angles and blood leaked from her in a trail that soaked into the dark red of her cape. The blood darkened the cape until it was almost black.
Spider-Man crouched beside the Rose Goblin and wasn't surprised to see that her eyes were still open. Nor was he surprised to see that Ashley Kafka still drew breath. What did surprise the Amazing Spider-Man was when Ashley Kafka began to speak.
"I told you, Peter," Ashley said. "Didn't I? Told you that you were a disease. You killed me. Know that? Felicia. Your baby. They'll die too. Eventually you'll kill them all, Peter. You'll kill them all."
And then the eyes of Ashley Kafka grew distant and cold. Spider-Man knew she was gone. But he placed his hand over her neck and felt for a pulse anyway. Then Spider-Man moved his hand to her eyes and pressed her eyelids shut. Then Spider-Man closed his own eyes and when the tears finally came… he let them come.
"You play the game almost as well as your master," Spider-Man said. But all that came in reply was the crashing tones of thunder as a blaze of lightning struck the ground from somewhere far off in the distance. The sound of the thunder diminished gradually and was replaced by the pattering of rain on the blackened roof.
Spider-Man twitched his fingers and a line of fluidic webbing fired from his palm. The line was lost in the rain, but Spider-Man knew the city - his city - perfectly. There was hardly any slack in his descent as Spider-Man swung down to the street.
The building was just as Spider-Man remembered it from that night so long ago. All that had changed over the years were some extra boards nailed over an ever-increasing amount of broken windows. There were no real markings of graffiti or other signs of defacement. New York was a city in a constant state of change. It seemed remarkable to Spider-Man that it was still standing after all these years.
"Just my luck," Spider-Man said as he took a single step forward.
SPIDER-SENSE
Spider-Man brought his attention to the sky and smiled beneath his mask. There was no humor in it. It was the smile of a hunter satisfied that his prey had finally come crawling from the brush.
"I'm glad you're here, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she descended through the heavy rain that sheathed her. "I was afraid you might decide it was better to simply stay away."
There were no words from the Spider as he crouched low to the ground and pounced. The Rose Goblin smiled as Spider-Man hurtled towards her. There was no humor in her smile. But where the smile of Spider-Man had been one of a satisfied hunter, the smile of the Rose Goblin was filled with nothing but insanity… and a maddening hint of pleasure.
There was a rush of heat as the Rose Goblin angled her glider up and away from Spider-Man. The Rose Goblin watched as Spider-Man twisted his body to snatch at the soaring ebony glider, but the Rose Goblin hovered just out of reach. Spider-Man fired his web-shooters and both thin streams of fluid connected with the underside of the glider. Spider-Man yanked on the strands and launched his body up and into the air directly at the Rose Goblin again.
"As persistent as ever, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she fired a barrage of energy from her extended index fingers. "Some say persistence is the better part of valor. But persistence can be a weakness when practiced by one with nothing but rage to feed him."
Spider-Man twisted in the air and avoided several blasts from the crimson-clad woman as the rain continued to fall all around him. And then the pumpkin bombs were in front of him. His screaming spider-sense slammed throughout his skull with such ferocity that it made Spider-Man's eyes brim with pained tears.
But the pumpkin bombs did not explode on contact with Spider-Man's body. Instead they ruptured and a putrid gas filled the air around Spider-Man's head.
"No!" Spider-Man bellowed as the gas filled his lungs. The effects of the rancid vapor were almost instantaneous as Spider-Man felt his muscles knot and tighten and his vision swim sickly before his eyes.
"I'm afraid so, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she fired a blazing shot of energy into the chest of Spider-Man. Peter was blown back into the air and plummeted to the ground. Spider-Man twisted his body as he descended through the torrential downpour. His chest smoldered with an intense heat as Spider-Man struggled to adjust himself in mid-air. He thrust his arms down to the concrete and fired his web-shooters. A plume of webbing escaped from the firing mechanisms and formed a billowing mass on the rain-slicked street below.
Spider-Man connected with his self-made cushion and bounced away towards the warehouse. He landed squarely on his feet and spread his legs to keep from falling to the ground. The effects of the gas were playing havoc with his senses and his reflexes. He raised his head wearily to the sky and observed the Rose Goblin as she descended through the rain.
"Are your eyes blurring, Spider-Man? Are your senses dulled?" the Rose Goblin said as she continued to move forward. "I could strike you down with a simple flick of my wrist. You probably can't even register the pumpkin bomb I have in my dainty grip… let alone avoid it."
"Forget the pumpkin bomb. If there's anything you have a dainty grip on, lady… it's your sanity," Spider-Man said and then reeled as his vision doubled and went a sickly gray.
His spider-sense screamed again and the vision of Spider-Man cleared just as the Rose Goblin streaked down towards him. Spider-Man was unable to react as her fist lashed out and struck him across the mouth. The coppery tinge of blood spurted into Spider-Man's mouth as he left his feet and flew through the air. His back connected roughly with the hard brick wall of the warehouse and Peter Parker felt something inside give way. A brilliant white light flashed before his eyes and then faded to gray as the pain settled in.
The eyes of Spider-Man fluttered open and he peered down at the ground below. The rain mingled with the slivers of blood pouring from his mask. Spider-Man could see his reflection in the pools of liquid. His mask was in tatters on the right side of his face. A nasty gash was open and bleeding freely. Spider-Man placed a shaking hand to his face to staunch the flow of blood and watched as it oozed through his fingers.
"A razor-bat, Spider-Man…" the Rose Goblin said. Spider-Man watched as a red-clad foot squelched into the mix of blood and rainwater before him. "…tipped with more of the same drug that was in the gas you inhaled."
The Rose Goblin kicked out a foot and pressed it to Spider-Man's shoulder. She pushed and Spider-Man slammed against the wall of the warehouse once more. He felt something in his back shift. Almost as if something had popped loose in his spine.
"You're finished, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she approached. "Your strength is gone. My sedative has you on your last legs. Norman designed it himsemmmph…"
"Save it," Spider-Man said. The Rose Goblin reeled back as the shot of webbing that had struck her face plastered itself over her mouth. Spider-Man turned towards the wall and spread his fingers over it.
"This is gonna hurt."
Spider-Man strained his muscles and lifted his feet onto the brick facing. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that the Rose Goblin was still ripping at the webbing over her mouth. He had a few seconds at the most. If he was going to regroup…
…you're skittering away like an insect, Peter.
Peter ignored the voice. He was regrouping, not running away. The Rose Goblin had drugged him. He needed time to recover if he had any chance of beating her. His hands shook violently as he pressed his fingers to the rippled brick face of the warehouse. Spider-Man strained his muscles and began to slowly climb the wall…
…when the hand closed itself around his ankle.
"Ah ah ah, Peter. I didn't say you could leave," the Rose Goblin said as she wrenched Spider-Man away from the wall. Crumbling bits of brick debris stuck to Spider-Man's fingers as he was yanked into the air and tossed backwards. His spider-sense erupted again and Spider-Man simply braced himself as he crashed into the pavement. His costume shredded as Spider-Man bounded and skid across the unrelenting surface of concrete.
Spider-Man struggled to his feet and his ribs and upper back bled hot, fiery agony through his body. The Rose Goblin stood in the middle of the street. Spider-Man narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth. His fists clenched in defiance.
"So brave," the Rose Goblin said. "So rebellious."
"So what?" Spider-Man said and then leapt. The Rose Goblin crouched low to the ground to avoid the lunge but Peter fired his web-shooters and a fine spray of webbing connected to her shoulder. Spider-Man yanked on the line with all of his strength as he flew overhead and lifted the Rose Goblin from her feet.
Spider-Man landed on the pavement and the Rose Goblin went sailing down the street and into the open window of what had once been a long abandoned novelty shop. Spider-Man watched the gaping maw of the shattered window for a long moment but no movement registered from within. Spider-Man crossed the street in one bounding leap and then cautiously approached the door.
Nothing. Not a sound to greet him.
The Spider placed his fingers on the door and wrenched it open. He slipped inside and moved along the dim shadows that covered the entirety of the small store. His spider-sense was dulled from the drugs that had been infused through his system. But even a sluggish spider-sense gave him an advantage in a room of complete dark.
And that was why it was such a surprise when the pumpkin bomb plunked down right in front of him.
The warning from his spider-sense sounded, but Spider-Man knew it was already too late. The explosion sent a tremor through the entire city block and all Spider-Man was able to do was shield himself by crouching into a tight ball of aching muscle as the explosion sent him hurtling out into the bitter cold of the night.
"You're looking good, old man," Robbie Robertson said as he beamed down at the man lying in the hospital bed before him.
J. Jonah Jameson smiled back. "No need to stroke my ego… how's my baby doing?"
"The Bugle? She's toast. Burned to the ground the second you left," Robbie said.
Jonah gave a dry chuckle and grimaced a bit as a white-hot flash of pain shot up his side. "Wouldn't surprise me in the least," he finally managed.
"You all right, Jonah?" Robbie asked. "Should I call a nurse?"
Jonah closed his eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm fine… just fine."
Robbie closed a hand on Jonah's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "I have no doubt you're going to be fine. But you should take it easy for a while," Robbie said and then gave Jonah a comforting pat. "Go home to that pretty wife of yours."
"Any word from John?" Jonah said and Robbie could see tears thinly veiled behind Jonah's eyes. It was a sight that forced Robbie to look away. He had never seen his friend in such an agonized state.
"No," Robbie said finally. "But I know he'll turn up, Jonah. It's only a matter of time."
"Of course… of course," Jonah said. "John has always been headstrong. Always doing things his own way." Robbie brought his eyes back to Jonah and saw that the man had composed himself once more. The tears drying up like the water of an aged well.
"That's Randy I see out there, isn't it?" Jonah said and Robbie turned in the direction his friend was looking. Martha and Randy were both outside peering through the rectangular window in the hospital room door. At the sight of Jonah and Robbie looking in their direction, they both gave a hesitant wave.
Jonah lifted his hand in return. "He's a good boy. Glad to see he's back on his feet."
"He's always been strong," Robbie replied.
Jonah nodded. "But you were scared all the same. Scared for him."
"Yes."
"Then go on and spend some time with your son," Jonah said. "Marla will be here any minute. I think I can hold off the grim reaper until she gets back."
"Just so long as you don't light up in here."
"Would I do something like that?"
Robbie narrowed his eyes. "I'd better not find any cigar ashes. I'll be by here tomorrow morning to inspect."
"Sure," Jonah said. "And bring some work for me while you're at it. This hospital is as quiet as a tomb. I'm more worried about dying from boredom than I am from something breaking down in this old body of mine."
Robbie reached for the small table next to Jonah's bed and tossed him the remote control. "Watch some TV."
"It's only Tuesday. All my favorite shows are on Thursday," Jonah said. "Friends and E.R. are the lifeblood of this newspaperman."
"You're impossible. You know that?" Robbie said with a grin as he turned for the door. "Goodnight, Jonah."
"Night, Robbie."
Robbie Robertson stepped out of the hospital room and into the arms of his wife. He exhaled in a sigh of relief. He'd actually thought for a moment that he would break down when he saw Jonah lying so weak and pale in his hospital bed. Marla had assured Robbie that Jonah was recovering his strength more and more every minute. But the skinny wraith in the room surrounded by a flimsy hospital gown and bed sheets that covered him like a shroud was nothing like the Jonah Robbie knew.
"Let's go," Robbie said. Randy looked into the eyes of his father and immediately knew not to say another word. Martha looked a bit harder… a bit longer. But eventually she nodded and took her husband's hand. The three of them made their way to the elevator and stepped inside. The ride was swift and silent to the bottom floor. They stepped out into the rain-drenched night and Robbie drew in a fresh breath clear of the sickly smells of death and disinfectant that were commonplace in a building servicing the ill.
Robbie led his family to their car and stopped by the driver's side door as they climbed inside. His family was safe now. Randy had recovered and was smiling as he said something to his mother from the backseat. Martha, for her part, laughed in return. His family was whole. Robbie Robertson made a silent promise at that moment to make sure that nothing bad would ever befall them again.
But if Robbie Robertson had gazed upward… he would have seen the hovering platform floating a hundred feet above his head. He would have sensed the evil emanating from the figure on the platform as easily as he sensed the love he felt for his own family. If he had narrowed his eyes, a flicker of flame would have caught his eye as the creature peered down at Robbie from its perch. But Robbie never looked up and so was unaware as the figure watched him climb into his family sedan and roll away through the rain.
The eyes of the figure shifted then. Shifted to the hospital room of J. Jonah Jameson. Then the figure began to laugh. Laughed a laugh as cold as the freezing rain that flowed over the sleeping city. Then in the space of a second… the laughter stopped. And in the blink of an eye… the figure was gone.
It was the sound of his cat that woke Peter from his deep slumber. The gray fog of sleep lifted and Peter sat up in his own bed. He was in his apartment. Smoke was busying himself by cleaning his forepaws as he lay across Peter's chest.
Wait…
The Rose Goblin had drawn him across the city on a trail from the New York City general hospital to the warehouse where he had beaten the burglar who murdered his Uncle Ben so many years ago. They had fought. The battle had been violent and intense. It had ended with a pumpkin bomb exploding at the feet of Spider-Man. It had ended with Spider-Man… dying?
But now Peter was lying in his own bed with his cat cleaning itself on his chest.
"What the hell is going on?" Peter said and his voice echoed in his darkened bedroom. Smoke glanced up at Peter with a stare that seemed both inquisitive and disinterested at the same time.
Do what you want… but don't get up and ruin my rest area. The look seemed to whisper.
"Sorry, Smokey," Peter said and pushed the sheets away from his body. Smoke yowled once in annoyance and then leapt from the bed and onto the floor. The feline did a slow circle and peered up at Peter. Peter looked back into the liquid green eyes of the cat and shuddered. Something was wrong here.
"Not in Kansas anymore, Toto," Peter said and then closed his eyes. He swung his feet onto the floor and instead of hitting the wooden floor of his apartment… the toes of Peter Parker curled into the worn rug that had met his feet every day of his life.
No, every day of his teenaged life…
"At Aunt May's," Peter finished the thought and then opened his eyes. He was no longer in his apartment. Posters of the science fair and his old work desk with the ancient microscope sitting smack dab in the middle of a massive pile of books and science awards greeted him with all the old familiarity of thousands of waking mornings when he was a young boy.
And then something else greeted Peter Parker. But this time it was his sense of smell that was assaulted. Peter felt his mouth begin to water despite his every effort to deny what was happening.
Wheat cakes… the smell of his Aunt May's wheat cakes floating up from the kitchen and into his boyhood room. How many times had it been just like this over the years? How many times had Peter woken up to the smell of wheat cakes flooding his room and forcing him to clamber out of bed? Wasn't it just like this the day that Peter had woken up determined to make a name for himself in show business? Hadn't it been a day just like this when Peter had allowed the burglar to run past him? Hadn't it been a day just like this when his Uncle Ben had…
No. Better not to think of things like that… better to get out of bed and head downstairs before Aunt May came searching for him. Aunt May had always been really impatient when Peter didn't get up in time for breakf…
The cat. Smoke was still sitting in the middle of the floor… looking up at Peter with a look that made Peter want to turn away. But he couldn't turn away. The cat lifted itself from its haunches and turned for the door.
Aunt May. Aunt May would kill Peter if she knew he had brought a stray cat into the house. He had to stop Smoke before he got downstairs. If Aunt May saw Smoke she'd be sure to have a heart attack right there in the middle of the kitchen with the smell of wheat cakes…
Peter took a deep breath in through his nostrils. There was something else… something underneath the smell of the wheat cakes. The smell was familiar. Peter was sure that he had crossed the scent before. But like a memory that tickled the back of your mind - just out of reach - the scent drifted away before Peter could identify it.
The cat.
"Smoke," Peter whispered through clenched teeth. The cat was slipping out of the open door and into the hallway. From there it was just a few short steps to the staircase. Peter wouldn't have a chance of catching up to Smoke if the feline beat him to the stairs. Peter burst from his room and turned in the direction of the stairs.
And then all the breath flooded out of Peter in a rush. He was facing a door. A door he was very familiar with. A door he had consciously avoided for most of his adult life. He was no longer in the hallway of his boyhood home. Now Peter Parker was facing the door to the garage where he had spent long hours with his Uncle Ben as a child.
They had always spent time together. But Peter had always enjoyed their time in the garage the most. The conversations had always seemed more important as Uncle Ben tinkered with the engine of his ancient Monte Carlo. Peter would sit in front of his Uncle's toolbox and watch in awe as Uncle Ben went to work on the car. Oil changes and rotating the tires and replacing the fan belts and even playing with the constantly faltering radiator… there was nothing that Uncle Ben didn't know about his car.
The garage door would sit open to the bright afternoon sky and Peter and Uncle Ben would spend an entire day laughing and talking and sharing the sandwiches Aunt May always brought from the kitchen. There was nothing Peter enjoyed more than sharing a half dozen roast beef sandwiches with his Uncle Ben as they sat near the open hood of the Monte Carlo with the faint smell of motor oil and grease mingling with the fresh air and the blossoming flowers from Aunt May's garden. Now Peter knew what the smell beneath the wheat cakes had been. It had been the smell of the garage.
But there was always that one thing that Uncle Ben could never quite fix. The garage door was always stuck partially open. It would slide open easily enough. And to a certain point it would slide down on its track until it was almost closed. But the garage door would always jam with about a foot to go. Aunt May always yammered at Uncle Ben to get a new one. But Uncle Ben always said it would be a waste of money they didn't have. Forest Hills was a safe neighborhood. Nobody ever robbed anybody in Forest Hills Uncle Ben would say.
Aunt May harped on and on until Uncle Ben convinced her that he would fix it himself. And Uncle Ben would try. But no matter what he did to the door… it would always stick with about a foot of open space to spare. It frustrated Uncle Ben to no end. Eventually Uncle Ben would give up. Uncle Ben would forget that the door was even broken.
"No," Peter said as he looked at the door to the garage. "This isn't right."
The garage door was open about a foot. Just like it always had been when Peter was a boy. But it wasn't supposed to be that way now. Aunt May had the door replaced immediately after Uncle Ben had been…
Voices.
There were voices coming from the garage. Peter heard them clearly and recognized them instantly. It was his Uncle Ben and the burglar. Uncle Ben had heard the burglar sneaking underneath the garage door and had gone to investigate. Uncle Ben was facing down the burglar in what were going to be the last moments of his life. Peter was standing right outside the room where his Uncle Ben was shot and killed.
Peter wanted to move but found that he couldn't. He was frozen where he stood. A rustle stirred from behind him and Peter shifted his eyes away from the garage door. Smoke was there. The cat moved past Peter and rubbed against his legs. Its green eyes flashed to Peter's as the cat passed. Peter grew cold as he watched the cat flow underneath the garage door. The open space under the garage door was completely dark. Unimaginably black.
Then finally the shot rang out. A flash of white light came exuding from the slit in the darkness and Peter cried out in agony. He looked down and saw a dark slew of blood running down his own stomach. A blinding pain had settled into his chest. Peter looked away from his wound and watched in horror as a rush of smoke poured from the open space and flowed over his feet. The gray swirls of hazy vapor parted around Peter's legs as he sank to his knees.
But then a voice whispered like the crackling of dried and burning leaves. Peter looked to the garage door and saw the bloated face of his Uncle Ben. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears. His mouth oozed the blood that had filled his lungs.
"P-Peter," the dying Uncle Ben said and Peter opened his mouth to scream in horror. But then a hand closed itself over his mouth and turned Peter towards it. Peter fell back in terror as a pale face shrouded in crimson descended from the darkness.
"Wake up, Peter…" the voice of the Rose Goblin whispered. "Wake up."
"I don't know about this, Eugene," Jill said as she paused on the first step leading to the front door of her father's home.
Eugene turned and looked at Jill Stacy. Her dark hair fell loosely on her shoulders. Her blue eyes flashed like bottled lightning. Eugene was struck for the trillionth time by her mind-numbing beauty.
He descended the few steps that separated them and took Jill by her shoulders. "I'm right here with you. Nothing's going to happen while I'm here." Eugene took Jill's hand and gripped it tight.
"We'll just go inside and have a look. Nothing wrong with looking inside, right?"
"Ok," Jill said and allowed Eugene to lead her up the stairs.
They reached the wooden door and Eugene knocked sharply. "Paul? Paul, you in there?"
There was no answer. Jill felt the hairs on her neck stiffen and stand out from her skin like the needles in a sewing cushion.
"We should leave, Eugene. Something's wrong." And Jill could feel unease creep up her back like the shadow of some terrifying predator. Eugene turned to her and smiled and Jill had to fight back the urge to slap him. Why couldn't he sense the wrongness of this place? Why didn't he want to run as far and as fast as she did?
"It's ok, Jill," Eugene said and turned to the door. He reached out and closed a steady hand on the brass doorknob. "Paul, we're coming in, buddy."
The door swung open and Jill silently cursed. She had hoped that the door would be locked. That would have given her time to convince Eugene that it wasn't worth it to be here. She had the keys in her purse. She could have told him they were in her car… she could have told him…
Jill's thoughts stopped as if plugged by a drain. Paul was here. Right here in the house just as she'd feared he would be. But this wasn't the enraged junkie that had scared her so badly the day before. Now her brother was lying face down on the floor in a cooling pile of his own vomit. Paul's fists were clenched and his skin was pale. Jill absorbed all of this information in the blink of an eye. But the thing that kept drawing her eyes like a brutal accident on the side of the road was the needle sticking out of her brother's arm.
Jill tore her hand from Eugene's and ran to the side of her brother in a flash. She turned her brother onto his back and was greeted by the terrifying sight of his eyes rolled back far into his head. Not even a vague impression of his irises was visible.
Her brother was dying.
"Paul, wake up. Please, Paul. Please wake up…"
WAKE UP!
The voice slammed into the senses of Spider-Man and wrenched him from unconsciousness. He was lying face down on the drive outside of his Uncle Ben's garage. Even without opening his eyes he knew it had to be true. If he opened his eyes he would see his Uncle Ben lying dead before him. He would see the blood trickling from his uncle's mouth and maybe even see the feet of the burglar as he took aim with his gun. One death wouldn't be enough for the burglar. Not when he could press the gun to Peter's head and finish him too.
"No!" Peter screamed into the darkness and jumped to his feet. He was no longer in the driveway of his Aunt May's home. He was in the warehouse where he had fought and captured the burglar. Dust scattered throughout the air as Spider-Man spun on his heels and surveyed the open expanse around him. The dust was everywhere. It made it difficult for Peter to see.
But it wasn't only the dust. Spider-Man understood that as easily as he understood that his vision of Uncle Ben being killed in front of him was just a dream. It wasn't dust. It was gas… gas pouring from a pumpkin bomb at his feet. Harry had tried the same trick a number of times on Peter in the past. Hallucinatory gas, sleeping gas… even a specially designed gas used to shut down his spider-sense.
Spider-Man scanned the dust covered warehouse floor and found the pumpkin bomb. He fired a shot of webbing and it splattered on the floor in front of the orange sphere. The carved jack-o-lantern face of the pumpkin bomb seemed to laugh mockingly at Peter. He could almost hear the laughter echoing throughout the warehouse. Spider-Man felt his knees grow weak and his stomach curl. The gas was doing something to him. His balance, senses, strength, even his ability to focus all seemed to be weakening.
Spider-Man shook his head in an effort to clear it and fired his web-shooter again. This time the webbing sprayed over the pumpkin bomb thickly. The outpouring of gas abruptly stopped and slowly the sifting mist of poison began to clear from Spider-Man's eyes.
"I trust my little toy has you completely relaxed, Peter," the voice of the Rose Goblin said. "The concoction is a hallucinogenic of my own design. Designed to stimulate the nerve centers in the brain that power our dreams." The haze finally lifted completely and Spider-Man could see the Rose Goblin hovering on her glider across the room. She was no more than a few dozen feet away. But to Spider-Man in his weakened state she might have been all the way across the city at the top of the Empire State Building.
"How are your dreams, Peter?" The Rose Goblin said. "Any nightmares?"
"Enough," Spider-Man growled through his teeth and then hung his head in exhaustion. "You know who I am. I followed your trail. I played your sick little game. So now you've brought me here."
The Rose Goblin sat unmoving. "Yes."
"Why?" Spider-Man said. "Why all of this? For Norman? Is that what this has all been for? For that monster who…" and then Spider-Man was on his back with a terrible pain echoing throughout his chest. It wasn't until he looked up and saw the outstretched finger of the Rose Goblin smoking that he realized he had been shot.
"Do not speak of Norman as if he were less than human, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she descended to the ground. "As if he was the one to blame for your mistakes."
"Mistakes…?"
"Don't!" the Rose Goblin slammed a fist to the ground. "Don't stand there and pretend as if you are innocent, Spider. I fell in love with Norman and you killed him. The spider that sits on your chest is as black as your heart, Peter. It spreads its infection through you and into all those that you touch."
"You're a plague, Peter," the Rose Goblin continued. "When I met Norman it didn't take long for us to fall in love. At first I was afraid of him. He was powerful and there was something inside that he guarded. A secret." The Rose Goblin put her gloved hands to her breast and traced her fingers up to the pasty white flesh of her mask.
"But in time I learned that the true Norman Osborn was a compassionate and loving person… a good man. And the terrible secret he held, Peter?" the Rose Goblin tucked her fingers beneath her mask and began to pull it away from her face. "That terrible secret was you."
"From the moment he met you he knew that there was something wrong about you. He knew that you were sick. Diseased. That anyone who got close to you would end up dead. So he tried with all of his strength to stop you," the Rose Goblin paused and closed her eyes. "But he failed. You killed him. Just like you killed every other person you ever touched. Gwen Stacy…"
"No," Peter said and closed his eyes.
"Yes, Peter," the Rose Goblin continued. "Gwen. Her father. Harry Osborn. Jonah Jameson. Even your beloved Uncle Ben."
"No!" Peter clenched his hands into fists.
"Oh yes, Peter! Yes indeed," the Rose Goblin cackled. "You are a killer born and bred. And when Norman realized he couldn't stop you on his own he enlisted my help. He knew that together we would be able to stop you once and for all. But you killed him, Peter. You killed the only man I ever loved."
"Norman never loved you, Liz. He used you. Don't you remember? He…" Spider-man said. But when the Rose Goblin began to laugh he stopped. Her laughter was cold and cruel. Not the laughter of someone with any semblance of good humor… but the laugh of someone who had gone completely insane.
"Liz?" the Rose Goblin said. "Oh, Peter. How could you be so blind? Liz Osborn was just another of your many victims. Your diseased touch led poor Liz astray from the care of her father-in-law. Your touch sent Liz Osborn to the hospital poisoned and insane. Your touch turned little Normie Osborn into an orphan… a little boy without a mother or a father. If Liz was here I'm sure she would be as happy to see you suffer and die as I. But she is not here, Peter. I am not Liz Osborn."
"Then who… who are you?"
The Rose Goblin smiled and placed her hands beneath her mask again. "I am the one woman that Norman knew he could trust above all others. The one woman who knew your weaknesses and faults better than even you yourself. I cared for you once. But when Norman showed me what you were I was the one woman who he knew could crack your mind open like an eggshell and destroy you like the diseased monster you are."
The Rose Goblin slipped her mask over her head and let it fall to the floor. Peter Parker stood in silence as the Rose Goblin was finally revealed.
"Ashley…"
"Yes, Peter," the Rose Goblin said. "Your doctor. Your confidant. Your friend. The one you shared your most private thoughts and secrets with. But you kept more than your fair share of secrets. Didn't you, Peter?"
"No," Spider-Man said. "No."
"But Norman shared your secrets with me," the Rose Goblin said. "He whispered them to me in the night until your secrets were all I could think of…"
"But now Norman is dead and there is nothing else for me. He was my life, Peter. Do you understand that? I have nothing left. Nothing but my vengeance."
"He used you, Ashley," Spider-Man said. "Used you just like he used Liz. Brainwashed you into thinking you loved him just like he brainwashed Liz into thinking her husband had returned from the grave. Can't you see that?"
"I still love him, Peter," the Rose Goblin said as she activated her glider and soared into the air. "There is no past tense to the feelings of love I have for Norman. They stretch into the afterlife."
"But my feelings of hatred for you are just as powerful, Peter. And I promise you. Long after you are dead. I will still hate you. And that hate will follow you straight into the pits of Hell. It will haunt you for your entire existence."
"Ashley, please," Spider-Man said. "You can stop this now. You're a doctor. You know this is wrong. You're dedicated to saving lives. Not destroying them."
"I am saving lives, Peter. I'm saving the countless number of victims you'll be sure to kill if I let you survive even one more day."
The Rose Goblin circled to the top of the warehouse and pressed a panel suspended there. Lights flooded the room and Peter was momentarily blinded. Then as his eyes grew accustomed to the light Spider-Man saw two things.
The first thing he saw was that he was directly in the middle of the warehouse. It was a perfect square and the Rose Goblin or perhaps just the company that had used the equipment before had completely cleared the space. There was nothing but the cold concrete floor and the barren brick walls to remind Spider-Man of how it had been all those years ago.
But there was something new in the warehouse as well. Two platforms were raised high into the air. Spider-Man looked from one to the other and saw the forms standing on the platforms. Spider-Man saw the large pits of liquid beneath the platforms. Spider-Man was sure of the contents of the pits without even thinking. Norman had fallen into a chamber filled with acid and been burned alive. But it hadn't been just acid. It had been his formula. The formula that turned Norman into the raving lunatic known as the Green Goblin. The formula would grant strength and power in a moderate enough dose. But it was fatal in heavier doses. Harry Osborn had died from the formula. In even heavier quantities the potion was as potent as the deadliest acid.
"Felicia Hardy," the Rose Goblin said. "The Black Cat. You loved her once. Didn't you, Peter? Is she the only woman left that you loved and haven't destroyed?"
Spider-Man looked away from the pit of Norman's deadly formula and up to the platform. Felicia was balanced precariously over the edge. She was bound tightly. There was no way for her to escape. Spider-Man closed his eyes and turned his head. A squall of sound echoed through the warehouse and Peter grimaced as if in pain.
"Ah…" the Rose Goblin sighed. "The baby is awake."
"No…" Peter said. But he opened his eyes and watched as the Rose Goblin hovered over to the second platform. A small crib sat there. The Rose Goblin passed over it once and then settled down on the platform. She reached inside and lifted a bundle to her chest. Peter watched in horror as the bundle moved. His mind flashed back to the pictures he had seen in the file Jonah had given him. Pictures of his child. Pictures of baby May.
"I'll kill you," Spider-Man said and the baby cried out again as the Rose Goblin placed the child back into the crib.
"Perhaps you will, Peter. I have no doubt that someone will die tonight. It could be me. Or Felicia. Or your child. Who is to say?" The Rose Goblin activated her goblin glider again and flew across the warehouse to another platform that began to rise from the ground.
"In your weakened state I think you'll only have time to save one of us. I could be wrong. Maybe you could even save two of us. But who will it be, Peter? What will you do? Who will you save?"
"How does this solve anything, Kafka!" Spider-Man placed his hands to the side of his head. His brain was throbbing in a sick rhythmic pulse. "All your talk of Spider-Man being a disease. Come kill me then. Destroy the disease. What does killing more innocents prove about you?"
"Nothing. But if this doesn't destroy you, Spider-Man… I don't know what will." The Rose Goblin reached for a button on her glider and pressed it.
And the platforms dropped away like the doors to a hangman's galley. Spider-Man watched in slow motion as his child, Felicia and the Rose Goblin began to fall.
Then he moved.
He fired a line of webbing at the vat of chemicals underneath the plummeting form of Felicia and pulled with all of his might as he jumped in the direction of his descending child. Spider-Man twisted in mid-air and the world went black for a terrifying moment. His head cleared and a red haze formed around his vision. There was no vat of chemicals beneath the Rose Goblin. Ashley Kafka was racing down to nothing but cold unrelenting concrete.
Spider-Man fired his second web-shooter and layered the ground below the Rose Goblin with webbing. A cushion of web began to form beneath the Rose Goblin as Spider-Man connected feet first with the wall beneath his falling baby.
The first line of web had grown unimaginably taut in the hand of Spider-Man. Spider-Man dropped to the ground and turned. The warehouse was a perfect square. But the far side of the building where Felicia was falling was at least a hundred feet away. He wasn't sure if his webbing would travel that far. He wasn't even sure he would be conscious after he tried what he intended to do.
Spider-Man gripped the thread of webbing in both of his hands and pulled with all of his might. Spider-Man felt his back spasm and his insides wail as his muscles fought to do what he desired. The metal creaked and groaned and finally split. The vat of chemicals beneath Felicia burst apart and went flooding onto the warehouse floor.
Spider-Man nearly collapsed. But he managed to look up and fired his webbing at the carriage that was falling out of the sky. He snagged it with his webbing and pulled. But the angle was wrong. The carriage was pulled downward at a faster rate and began to spin in the air. The baby was tossed clear and continued to descend. The infant was now clear of the danger from the acidic formula. But the threat of the ground was even closer.
Spider-Man crouched to the ground and leapt. His muscles protested by twanging like the strings of a badly tuned guitar. Spider-Man grunted as his back cracked and the open air stung the wound in his chest.
The baby plummeted. Spider-Man soared… reached out. And then finally Spider-Man closed his fingers around the infant and cradled her to his chest.
Spider-Man glanced up and fired the web-shooter from his free hand again. His leap towards the baby had brought him that much closer to the far side of the warehouse where Felicia was falling. His web connected with the ground and formed an identical web cushion to the one underneath the Rose Goblin. Spider-Man watched Felicia fall towards it and blew out a sigh of relief.
"No!" The voice came from behind him and Spider-Man landed and then turned with the child held firmly in his grasp. The Rose Goblin had watched as Spider-Man made his moves to save them. She had watched and she had seethed with a rage that ate at her insides like the acid that had destroyed her love. Her Norman. It wasn't fair. Spider-Man was a disease. He was a killer. He…
The Rose Goblin made a decision. She shifted in mid-air. Spider-Man watched in horror as she did it. Her movements were spasmodic but explicit. The air rushed past the face of Ashley Kafka and she screamed in wild peals of laughter that echoed through the warehouse. Spider-Man was unable to react as the Rose Goblin pushed her body away from the cushion of webbing and collided with the hard concrete floor. The laughter stopped abruptly and the warehouse fell as silent as a tomb.
Spider-Man turned and walked to Felicia who was struggling to break free of the manacles surrounding her hands and feet. Spider-Man crouched down to her and set the baby down. Felicia watched as Spider-Man placed his hands around the shackles and broke them with ease. He moved to her mouth and pulled the gag away. Felicia breathed deeply and immediately wished she hadn't. The scent of blood and sweat poured off of Peter like a wave. But there was another scent beneath it… a scent of silent despair.
Peter looked to the baby and then back to Felicia. She nodded. The child had begun to cry and Felicia placed her hands underneath the small girl. She lifted the baby and held it to her breast as she watched Peter approach the body of the Rose Goblin.
The body of Ashley Kafka was twisted and unmoving. Her limbs were splayed at odd, inhuman angles and blood leaked from her in a trail that soaked into the dark red of her cape. The blood darkened the cape until it was almost black.
Spider-Man crouched beside the Rose Goblin and wasn't surprised to see that her eyes were still open. Nor was he surprised to see that Ashley Kafka still drew breath. What did surprise the Amazing Spider-Man was when Ashley Kafka began to speak.
"I told you, Peter," Ashley said. "Didn't I? Told you that you were a disease. You killed me. Know that? Felicia. Your baby. They'll die too. Eventually you'll kill them all, Peter. You'll kill them all."
And then the eyes of Ashley Kafka grew distant and cold. Spider-Man knew she was gone. But he placed his hand over her neck and felt for a pulse anyway. Then Spider-Man moved his hand to her eyes and pressed her eyelids shut. Then Spider-Man closed his own eyes and when the tears finally came… he let them come.