Back to GatefoldIssue #27 by Cory Wiegel and Adnan Khan
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"SEAPORT OF DREAMS - Part Two - The Shifting Sands"
Each time he felt it, it was like a new experience.
The night's cold air pressing through the thin layer of fabric that acted as the eye pieces of his red face mask, exhilarating him as he swung high above the New York skyline on strands of adhesive substances, "webbing," that carried him on his way.
Behind the blue and red webs, he is freelance photographer Peter Parker. To the streets below, and to the night that called upon him to accept the responsibility thrusted on his shoulders, he is the Amazing Spider-Man.
As he twists and maneuvers through the air to catch the right angle of a building high enough to anchor him safely, he travels past the shadows and the dull illumination of the city's lights with only his senses guiding him.
It seemed like that was the only way he could make heads or tails of his life. Spider-Man generally knew where it was he was going, but how he got there was another story. Ride a shipping truck to here, flip a few web-lines off some towering buildings there...
His destination was Sunset Marina, a seaport in the city of South Portland and up some in the state of Maine. And if his senses were anything but lying, this destination of his would be his second lead to the eerie dreams waking him in the night.
"Peter..."
"Who...? Who are you?"
"Find me..."
Peter could still hear that distant and familiar voice soothing his soul. With a sigh, he released the web-line in his grasp and gracefully dropped from the New York skyline to a Federal Express truck rounding a corner.
At the speed of thought, it was as if his hands and feet became magnetized when they touched the metallic roof of the package carrying truck. He had learned long ago how to weigh his body just right as to not make a sound when he dropped from such height.
Moving with the traffic, naive of the Spider-Man's presence, the truck had merged into the second street lane and when Peter looked up to the hanging street sign through the white eyepieces of his mask, he knew he was on the fast lane out of state.
It was time to kick back and enjoy the ride. From his crouched position on the back of the speeding truck, Peter looked up to the vast night's sky. On the highway, there weren't as many lights as there were in the city, so he could see the distant stars perfectly.
To Peter Parker, times like these were good for reflection.
Back in the city, Felicia Hardy looked up to the same night's sky from the balcony of her ex-lover's apartment, watching as the gray clouds obstructing her view part of the moon and the bright stars.
It was one of those times that at the perfect hour of the night, and in the perfect part of the city, the stars overhead all seemed to go on forever. Even if it was scaling the highest skyscrapers, or just in someone else's home, she could almost lose herself completely and enjoy the night's sincerity.
Almost.
The sound of locks suddenly being clicked open from their spots between the door and the wall across the room behind her had startled her. If it was one of Peter's roommates, it could be difficult explaining why she's there and he isn't. To avoid that conflict, she allowed her instincts to take over.
"Hey-ey Peter! You home?" called out the secret identity of the Frogman, his charismatic voice booming throughout the apartment as he walked in through the now unlocked doors. His date was over long ago and he wanted to boast. "I had the greatest time tonight, and you have to hear about it."
Not too long ago, Eugene had felt a sort of rivalry towards Peter when he had kissed Jill, but it hadn't taken much for Peter to explain to him what had happened between the two. It was becoming more and more clear Eugene had been winning her heart, anyway.
He shoved the bundle of keys into his pocket and glared around Peter and Randy's apartment before venturing forth. It had been rather messy as of late even with Randy staying the last week or so with his parents, but that's just how bachelors are, even if living alone or in pairs.
"Peter?" Eugene asked again as he made his way through the front room, stepping over the knocked over piles of brochures and state maps.
It had looked like a trip or something was being planned for, but he didn't put much thought into it. The sliding door to the balcony was wide open, the night's air at that height causing the curtain shingles to billow back and forth softly.
Huh, Eugene thought to himself, glancing over the New York skyline from the open balcony and shoving his hands deep into his brown jacket before turning to walk back into the apartment. I wonder if that guy's ever heard of the term 'All work and no play'...
Beneath the balcony, Felicia remained crouched on the ledge below with her arms spread along the building's stone wall as to keep her balance.
Silent as the distant night and listening carefully, she waited until she knew the visitor Peter had was gone before she scanned the streets below and leapt with acrobatic grace from several stories towards a nearby light post.
Felicia extended her hands out to catch grip on the light post's overhang, swinging with her own momentum until she was able to wrap her nimble body around the cold metal light post and slide down it as if it was a fireman's pole.
To anyone watching that she may not have seen when scanning the streets, the feet she had just performed would have been an amazing sight to see. But Felicia Hardy, the Black Cat, could have done it blindfolded and with her back turned towards the street.
Once her leather heeled boots touched the concrete sidewalk, Felicia casually slid her hands into the jacket she wore and beginning to walk towards her parked car across the street. The night was slow, so she figured she might as well call it.
Her perfectly toned senses had other plans. As she made it across the street to her car, she slowly began to hear the ramblings of a Hispanic man from an alley nearby.
"You said you needa job, huh?" One of the voices had asked, and then there was a pause before his own laughter had erupted.
Felicia moved to the back of her car as if she was going to open the trunk, but really was just getting closer to hear the voices better. "Yeah, man. There be this new guy on the streets. He be lookin' for some potential, y'know. Enrique hook ya up, man."
"Oh. Okay, but uh... who's Enrique?" She heard another voice ask from the fire barrel lit alleyway. The Hispanic man exploded into laughter once again, getting it all out before he would respond to the prospector.
"Heh... uh, that's me hommes," he replied, his laughter now more of a breath between words then an explosion of hysterical emotion. Then there was a brief pause before he continued. "Yo. Meet back here tomorrow night, man. Same time. Enrique gonna hook ya up wit' somethin' good."
Enrique's words seemed to fade deeper into the alleyway with the sound of footsteps. Felicia turned to look over her shoulder, seeing a young white male exit the alleyway and look around before he started on his way down the sidewalk.
"Good evening," he said as he passed Felicia with a friendly nod, a warm smile radiating from his face. A crease formed on her brow out of intrigue and she smiled, responding in kind with a nod. She watched as he continued on his way, whistling a light tune to match his carefree stride.
It looked like tomorrow night she had a date to keep.
The next day, after some lucky commercial big rig hopping, and a little web slinging here and there over the interstate overhang signs and overpasses, Peter had arrived at his destination in South Portland, Maine at around eight that morning.
A couple of times while on the interstate, he had ended up being stuck under the heavy concrete overpasses, or on the poles and signs hanging high over the thousands of passing cars all out on their own long journeys to work or weekend vacations.
He would just be waiting for a truck passing by in the line he needed to be in in order to get to his destination, letting his precognitive "spider-sense" guide him appropriately as he watched car after car speed underneath him for what seemed like forever... mesmerized in deep thought.
But then his spider-sense would kick in and wake him up with the buzzing sensation that hit from time to time, and he'd be back on his way with the passing tuck.
Once he arrived in town and the truck he was on came to a stop at a gas station, he shifted into his civvies in the privacy of the gas station's bathroom and then set out and checked into the motel closest to the boardwalk he could find just so he could have the pleasure of passing out.
Traveling the interstate all night wasn't exactly the most physically challenging feat he's ever taken on, but it was still tiring nonetheless. Someday Peter Parker really had to invest into a car of his own, but then again he always ended up thinking, how frequent were these impulse driven little trips out of town anyway?
Times like these, a trip like this was just the thing he needed, no matter how impulsive.
"So this is Sunset Marina..." Peter said to himself as he rolled the stool around at the boardwalk's open cafe, setting himself down into the cushioned stool with his back to the counter as he admired the boardwalk's scenery.
"That it is," a warm and charismatic voice chimed from behind Peter. He turned his head over his shoulder to see the smiling young woman standing on the other side of the counter. "Hi. I'm Wendy and I'll be waiting on you this afternoon."
"Hi, Wendy," Peter replied with a bit of a smile as he turned around in the chair to face her. He folded his arms on the counter, unconsciously taking in her appearance. Blonde hair tied back in a bun, deep green eyes that complimented her light tan... "I'm Peter, and I guess I'll, uh, be the one being waited on by you this afternoon."
Wendy's smile grew modestly as she retrieved a tablet from the smock she wore at her waist, and just as she was about to ask what she could get him, she noticed the Daily Bugle identification card hanging around his neck.
"You're a reporter?" she said with another smile, reading over the Daily Bugle's logo on the edge of the identification card.
Peter looked to her curiously for a moment, but then looked down and realized he had been wearing his pass card from the Bugle just encase he needed to do any real snooping around the docks in order to find any leads on what little information he had.
He looked up to her and shook his head with a dry laugh, and raised the camera at his side up in order for Wendy to see it. "Photographer, actually," Peter replied and she nodded, understandingly though somewhat disappointedly.
"Ah," Wendy tapped the pen in her hand on the edge of the tablet and glanced away for a moment to see that her other costumer didn't appear to need anything. When she looked back to Peter, she wrinkled her nose at him and teased. "You know, they say photographers are just reporters who failed English class."
Peter shook his head again and laughed, taking her shot at him full on.
"Actually I was an honor student," he decisively countered, and reached into his jacket to pull out his overstuffed wallet for her to see. "I think my old report card's still in here somewhere..."
"Honor student, huh?" Wendy asked, hunching her brows at him as if impressed. Peter made a funny look as he picked what looked to be an old piece of pepperoni from one of his wallet's many slots, but Wendy smiled and pressed on. "So then why photographer and no reporter?"
Peter paused to think over a proper answer to the question as he put away his wallet. He had the potential to be just about anything he wanted to be, but that one little thing had always kept him from staying focused enough.
"More freedom, I guess you could say," he finally responded in a nonchalant tone, hinting at something deeper as he looked back up to her. Wendy nodded casually, deciding to respectively not delve much. She was just the man's waitress after all.
"That makes sense... Heh, I'm sorry. I've been chewing your ear off, " Wendy said as she blushed and folded over the first page of her tablet, and suddenly Peter froze at her words as his chest went heavy. What was he doing?
Wendy drew her pen up right, ready to get down his order. "What can I get you?"
"Uh... Nothing," Peter said with a bit of a startle, shaking his head to her and pulling his bag and camera up around his shoulder. Wendy narrowed her eyes to him, a bit confused at his sudden behavior.
Peter looked back up to her and smiled weakly, before moving off his stool and starting to walk away. "I uh. I have to get back to my assignment."
"Okay..." Wendy said as she watched Peter walk out onto the boardwalk.
I can't believe the first thing I do when showing up here is flirt with a waitress, Peter thought as he crossed the Sunset Marina boardwalk. He felt like kicking himself for acting like such a pig so soon after Mary Jane's death. First Jill, then Felicia.
Of course, none of those times were really my fault, Not like flirting shamelessly with that waitress Wendy, his train of thought continued. Peter shook his head to himself as he continued to walk with his head low.
It had been almost a year ago that he heard the news about MJ's plane. With everything in his life being so hectic, he didn't want to believe it. He was so hurt. But now...
It wasn't long before Peter found himself at the end of the boardwalk and at the entrance of the junk yard he saw earlier on his arrival. It was too early at the time to go asking around about it, but he had a feeling that it was a good place to start his investigation.
And sure enough, he was right.
"I can't believe it...." Peter muttered to himself in bewilderment as he stepped through the tall wooden gates surrounding the junk yard. "That's it."
On his Uncle Ben's grave, he could have swore that there in the first lot of the junk yard stood the same white and red house boat he saw in his dreams, only it looked as if the haul had begun to rot due to age and he could see a large crack running down from the side of it's cabin to the bottom of the boat.
As he slowly began to approach the house boat, a cold chill ran down his spine from his shoulders, but it wasn't his spider sense. The tarnished print on the side of the boat read "Rosemary."
Before Peter could even think of what it all could mean, there was a loud roar of engines. He turned on his heel to the source of the loud noise overwhelming his senses.
There was a long bedded tow truck positioned next to a vehicle compacting machine, and it appeared as if the frame of a totaled car was being loaded into it. Next to the machine at the operating controls, stood a man with graying hair and middle aged features.
"Excuse me?" Peter called out as he began to approach the older man, nodding to him. The man in the jeans and blue work shirt turned around from the latest arrival of two trashed vehicles, spotting Peter walk towards him.
"What can I do ya for?" He asked over the sound of the bedded truck's gears activating and lowering the vehicles. Peter glanced over the totaled cars before he looked back to the junk yard attendant and realized another reason why he didn't like driving.
"My name is Peter Parker," Peter said as he looked back to the man and lifted the ID card up from his chest to eye level. "I'm a reporter from the Daily Bugle, a newspaper based in New York. I'm doing an article, and was wondering if you could help me out?"
"I'll try the best I can," the man replied after looking over the ID Peter held up for him to see as he slid the pen he was writing with into it's spot on the clipboard in his hand. "What is it that you need?"
Peter took a moment to think over his next line, gazing his eyes down to the attendant's chest. The name tag on the work shirt read "Leroy." The junk yard was the first place on Peter's list since arriving.
"Well, Leroy, I'm actually interested in the story behind that thrashed, old boat near the front of the second lot," Peter said as he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.
"Ah," Leroy replied with a nod, appearing to have come to the realization of why any reporter would be interested in the junk yard besides inspection code violations. "You must be interested in those survivors of the big storm back in '84."
Peter paused as he grew the more curious and then feigned as if he had already knew about it. "Just a little background information. You wouldn't know anything about the prior owners and what happened out there, would you?"
"I remember some details, vaguely. For starters I uh... I think they were social workers? Worked for the state... or the government, I'm not certain. Something like that," Leroy wrinkled his nose, glancing to the ground as he tried to jog his memory. "The boat itself was fished up awhile after it went down by the Coast Guard and sent here."
"Do you have a bill of sale or any records for it?"
"Nah. I couldn't give you their names either, if that's what you're getting at," Leroy shook his head and shrugged before continuing. "I just remember reading the newspaper article way back then, and hearing about the big fuss put up over them and their family."
"I'll be sure to check out whatever newspaper articles there are about it at the local library later this afternoon," Peter made a mental note out loud before asking, "how bad was the storm?"
"Terrible. The town's power was out for days and the ports were trashed," Leroy began as he placed his hands on his hips and stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying to think further back to that day. "Most of the ships 'side from them made it back safely before it all got it too bad, though."
Peter brought his arms across his chest and rose a loose fist up to his chin, and his gaze fell to the dirt ground as the junk yard attendant began to grow silent. He didn't know what to think of the information given, but it was something to go on.
"Sorry," Leroy said, noting the look on Peter's face and biting down onto his lip as he looked into Peter's eyes sympathetically. He could see the entanglement Peter felt by the look in his eyes. "I wish I could help you with your article some more -- "
"You've actually been a big help," Peter interrupted with a weak smile as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. He stood before Leroy quiet, his eyes drifting away for a moment before he turned back to him and nodded. "Thanks for your time."
"It's been no problem at all," the man replied with the lift of his brow. He watched the back of Peter Parker as he turned and began the walk back to the boardwalk. From there, he would need to go into tourist mode in order to find the nearest library.
"So then this job openin' you're talking about..." The young white male said as he and Enrique, accompanied by another street 'associate,' walked down the streets of the lower side of Manhattan in somewhat high spirits. "It pays good, huh?"
Enrique laughed out loud at the thought of the guy who they would be working for, his thick Hispanic accent leaking through as he spoke. "You be playin' in the big leagues when you get involved with this guy, hommes."
"Seriously?" James asked with a bit of uncertain curiosity, looking between Enrique and the other guy who had showed up in the alleyway with him that night. The both of them erupted into laughter again together.
"Getting involved with a guy like this, man. How could you not be?" Enrique's friend had said, propping his hand on Enrique's shoulder and leaning into him as he recovered from their latest outburst.
"Heh..." James forced a smirk. He wasn't sure if he liked where they going with this. There was something neither of them was telling him, and it had been making them laugh their asses off all night.
"Just your every day nine to five, hommes," Enrique reassured as he pushed away the man at his side, both of their laughter had finally came down to a calm. James wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or if they were really just joshing him the whole time.
"He's good for the over time, too," the third man had said, exploding in hysterical laughter followed by Enrique. They both began to wobble into each other, their legs and guts weak from it all. Yeah, James knew there was something up with this gig now.
But none of them knew that they were being stalked by a cat. Felicia Hardy, garbed in her tight fitted black sneaking suit as the Black Cat, was knelt at the edge of a building across the street from the trio.
She could make them out clearly with a pair of electronic magnifying binoculars, and they were being loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, so it wasn't hard to follow the conversation.
Ever since her investigations business, The Cat's Eye, had folded, she found herself getting more involved with the Super-Hero biz she was once apart of. The life of street vigilante, trying to crack some of the bigger mob cases the Police couldn't.
Peter however had been somewhat skeptical as to her true motives, though she knew they were sincere. He was in fact off on his own little adventure in Maine, one that she wished she could be apart of. It was personal though and she wasn't going to impose.
The trio had finally reached their destination at the end of the street. It was a large stone building that Felicia recognized as a bakery that had been long run down. She watched as the three street thugs scanned the streets before opening one of the heavy metal entrance doors.
A loud screech sounded throughout the streets as the metal door scraped against its frame and the concrete, but no one around had seemed to care. Looking up and down the streets for anyone who may be watching, they then disappeared into the building.
The Black Cat slid the binoculars into a purple, velvet pouch attached to the loosely hung utility belt on her waist as she rose to her full height. She paused before acting, calculating the building's distance and the one of few windows it had facing the street.
Felicia took a few steps backwards on the rooftop she was perched upon, then took off into a run towards the rooftop's edge. She leapt with all her might, propelling herself halfway over the street before she fired the cable claw from her wrist towards the concrete wall surrounding the window she planned on getting in through.
Some of the concrete split off the building as the high powered claw dug itself deep into the wall, and the Black Cat pulled on the cable from midair in order to draw herself to the window, her platinum blonde hair whipping in the air.
The time it took to complete the action was all of mere seconds, and she was opening the window and ducking in from it's ledge.
"Associates from the streets," Felicia could hear that familiar voice boom throughout the concrete walls as she stepped onto a rafter's beam from the window, and steadily made her way further into the building.
"The Hobgoblin welcomes you to the shaping of his newest enterprise," the voice continued, and the Black Cat crouched down on the beam under her feet as she looked down to see a gathering of thugs from the streets.
Ahead of them all on a wide platform, a tall form began strolling out from a dark corridor with his orange cloak flowing behind him.
"Loyalty is rewarded, traitors are crucified... " The Hobgoblin started with a tone of When he turned to face the gathering before the platform, they could all see quite clearly the maniacal look he wore on his pale white face.
"I suspect you all know the nature of the beast. Shall we get down to further business?"
NEXT ISSUE: The HobGoblin's looking for his ship to finally come in! Meanwhile, Peter finally finds what it is he's traveled to Sunset Marina for -- but what does it all mean to him and to his future? Find out next ish, folks!
The night's cold air pressing through the thin layer of fabric that acted as the eye pieces of his red face mask, exhilarating him as he swung high above the New York skyline on strands of adhesive substances, "webbing," that carried him on his way.
Behind the blue and red webs, he is freelance photographer Peter Parker. To the streets below, and to the night that called upon him to accept the responsibility thrusted on his shoulders, he is the Amazing Spider-Man.
As he twists and maneuvers through the air to catch the right angle of a building high enough to anchor him safely, he travels past the shadows and the dull illumination of the city's lights with only his senses guiding him.
It seemed like that was the only way he could make heads or tails of his life. Spider-Man generally knew where it was he was going, but how he got there was another story. Ride a shipping truck to here, flip a few web-lines off some towering buildings there...
His destination was Sunset Marina, a seaport in the city of South Portland and up some in the state of Maine. And if his senses were anything but lying, this destination of his would be his second lead to the eerie dreams waking him in the night.
"Peter..."
"Who...? Who are you?"
"Find me..."
Peter could still hear that distant and familiar voice soothing his soul. With a sigh, he released the web-line in his grasp and gracefully dropped from the New York skyline to a Federal Express truck rounding a corner.
At the speed of thought, it was as if his hands and feet became magnetized when they touched the metallic roof of the package carrying truck. He had learned long ago how to weigh his body just right as to not make a sound when he dropped from such height.
Moving with the traffic, naive of the Spider-Man's presence, the truck had merged into the second street lane and when Peter looked up to the hanging street sign through the white eyepieces of his mask, he knew he was on the fast lane out of state.
It was time to kick back and enjoy the ride. From his crouched position on the back of the speeding truck, Peter looked up to the vast night's sky. On the highway, there weren't as many lights as there were in the city, so he could see the distant stars perfectly.
To Peter Parker, times like these were good for reflection.
Back in the city, Felicia Hardy looked up to the same night's sky from the balcony of her ex-lover's apartment, watching as the gray clouds obstructing her view part of the moon and the bright stars.
It was one of those times that at the perfect hour of the night, and in the perfect part of the city, the stars overhead all seemed to go on forever. Even if it was scaling the highest skyscrapers, or just in someone else's home, she could almost lose herself completely and enjoy the night's sincerity.
Almost.
The sound of locks suddenly being clicked open from their spots between the door and the wall across the room behind her had startled her. If it was one of Peter's roommates, it could be difficult explaining why she's there and he isn't. To avoid that conflict, she allowed her instincts to take over.
"Hey-ey Peter! You home?" called out the secret identity of the Frogman, his charismatic voice booming throughout the apartment as he walked in through the now unlocked doors. His date was over long ago and he wanted to boast. "I had the greatest time tonight, and you have to hear about it."
Not too long ago, Eugene had felt a sort of rivalry towards Peter when he had kissed Jill, but it hadn't taken much for Peter to explain to him what had happened between the two. It was becoming more and more clear Eugene had been winning her heart, anyway.
He shoved the bundle of keys into his pocket and glared around Peter and Randy's apartment before venturing forth. It had been rather messy as of late even with Randy staying the last week or so with his parents, but that's just how bachelors are, even if living alone or in pairs.
"Peter?" Eugene asked again as he made his way through the front room, stepping over the knocked over piles of brochures and state maps.
It had looked like a trip or something was being planned for, but he didn't put much thought into it. The sliding door to the balcony was wide open, the night's air at that height causing the curtain shingles to billow back and forth softly.
Huh, Eugene thought to himself, glancing over the New York skyline from the open balcony and shoving his hands deep into his brown jacket before turning to walk back into the apartment. I wonder if that guy's ever heard of the term 'All work and no play'...
Beneath the balcony, Felicia remained crouched on the ledge below with her arms spread along the building's stone wall as to keep her balance.
Silent as the distant night and listening carefully, she waited until she knew the visitor Peter had was gone before she scanned the streets below and leapt with acrobatic grace from several stories towards a nearby light post.
Felicia extended her hands out to catch grip on the light post's overhang, swinging with her own momentum until she was able to wrap her nimble body around the cold metal light post and slide down it as if it was a fireman's pole.
To anyone watching that she may not have seen when scanning the streets, the feet she had just performed would have been an amazing sight to see. But Felicia Hardy, the Black Cat, could have done it blindfolded and with her back turned towards the street.
Once her leather heeled boots touched the concrete sidewalk, Felicia casually slid her hands into the jacket she wore and beginning to walk towards her parked car across the street. The night was slow, so she figured she might as well call it.
Her perfectly toned senses had other plans. As she made it across the street to her car, she slowly began to hear the ramblings of a Hispanic man from an alley nearby.
"You said you needa job, huh?" One of the voices had asked, and then there was a pause before his own laughter had erupted.
Felicia moved to the back of her car as if she was going to open the trunk, but really was just getting closer to hear the voices better. "Yeah, man. There be this new guy on the streets. He be lookin' for some potential, y'know. Enrique hook ya up, man."
"Oh. Okay, but uh... who's Enrique?" She heard another voice ask from the fire barrel lit alleyway. The Hispanic man exploded into laughter once again, getting it all out before he would respond to the prospector.
"Heh... uh, that's me hommes," he replied, his laughter now more of a breath between words then an explosion of hysterical emotion. Then there was a brief pause before he continued. "Yo. Meet back here tomorrow night, man. Same time. Enrique gonna hook ya up wit' somethin' good."
Enrique's words seemed to fade deeper into the alleyway with the sound of footsteps. Felicia turned to look over her shoulder, seeing a young white male exit the alleyway and look around before he started on his way down the sidewalk.
"Good evening," he said as he passed Felicia with a friendly nod, a warm smile radiating from his face. A crease formed on her brow out of intrigue and she smiled, responding in kind with a nod. She watched as he continued on his way, whistling a light tune to match his carefree stride.
It looked like tomorrow night she had a date to keep.
The next day, after some lucky commercial big rig hopping, and a little web slinging here and there over the interstate overhang signs and overpasses, Peter had arrived at his destination in South Portland, Maine at around eight that morning.
A couple of times while on the interstate, he had ended up being stuck under the heavy concrete overpasses, or on the poles and signs hanging high over the thousands of passing cars all out on their own long journeys to work or weekend vacations.
He would just be waiting for a truck passing by in the line he needed to be in in order to get to his destination, letting his precognitive "spider-sense" guide him appropriately as he watched car after car speed underneath him for what seemed like forever... mesmerized in deep thought.
But then his spider-sense would kick in and wake him up with the buzzing sensation that hit from time to time, and he'd be back on his way with the passing tuck.
Once he arrived in town and the truck he was on came to a stop at a gas station, he shifted into his civvies in the privacy of the gas station's bathroom and then set out and checked into the motel closest to the boardwalk he could find just so he could have the pleasure of passing out.
Traveling the interstate all night wasn't exactly the most physically challenging feat he's ever taken on, but it was still tiring nonetheless. Someday Peter Parker really had to invest into a car of his own, but then again he always ended up thinking, how frequent were these impulse driven little trips out of town anyway?
Times like these, a trip like this was just the thing he needed, no matter how impulsive.
"So this is Sunset Marina..." Peter said to himself as he rolled the stool around at the boardwalk's open cafe, setting himself down into the cushioned stool with his back to the counter as he admired the boardwalk's scenery.
"That it is," a warm and charismatic voice chimed from behind Peter. He turned his head over his shoulder to see the smiling young woman standing on the other side of the counter. "Hi. I'm Wendy and I'll be waiting on you this afternoon."
"Hi, Wendy," Peter replied with a bit of a smile as he turned around in the chair to face her. He folded his arms on the counter, unconsciously taking in her appearance. Blonde hair tied back in a bun, deep green eyes that complimented her light tan... "I'm Peter, and I guess I'll, uh, be the one being waited on by you this afternoon."
Wendy's smile grew modestly as she retrieved a tablet from the smock she wore at her waist, and just as she was about to ask what she could get him, she noticed the Daily Bugle identification card hanging around his neck.
"You're a reporter?" she said with another smile, reading over the Daily Bugle's logo on the edge of the identification card.
Peter looked to her curiously for a moment, but then looked down and realized he had been wearing his pass card from the Bugle just encase he needed to do any real snooping around the docks in order to find any leads on what little information he had.
He looked up to her and shook his head with a dry laugh, and raised the camera at his side up in order for Wendy to see it. "Photographer, actually," Peter replied and she nodded, understandingly though somewhat disappointedly.
"Ah," Wendy tapped the pen in her hand on the edge of the tablet and glanced away for a moment to see that her other costumer didn't appear to need anything. When she looked back to Peter, she wrinkled her nose at him and teased. "You know, they say photographers are just reporters who failed English class."
Peter shook his head again and laughed, taking her shot at him full on.
"Actually I was an honor student," he decisively countered, and reached into his jacket to pull out his overstuffed wallet for her to see. "I think my old report card's still in here somewhere..."
"Honor student, huh?" Wendy asked, hunching her brows at him as if impressed. Peter made a funny look as he picked what looked to be an old piece of pepperoni from one of his wallet's many slots, but Wendy smiled and pressed on. "So then why photographer and no reporter?"
Peter paused to think over a proper answer to the question as he put away his wallet. He had the potential to be just about anything he wanted to be, but that one little thing had always kept him from staying focused enough.
"More freedom, I guess you could say," he finally responded in a nonchalant tone, hinting at something deeper as he looked back up to her. Wendy nodded casually, deciding to respectively not delve much. She was just the man's waitress after all.
"That makes sense... Heh, I'm sorry. I've been chewing your ear off, " Wendy said as she blushed and folded over the first page of her tablet, and suddenly Peter froze at her words as his chest went heavy. What was he doing?
Wendy drew her pen up right, ready to get down his order. "What can I get you?"
"Uh... Nothing," Peter said with a bit of a startle, shaking his head to her and pulling his bag and camera up around his shoulder. Wendy narrowed her eyes to him, a bit confused at his sudden behavior.
Peter looked back up to her and smiled weakly, before moving off his stool and starting to walk away. "I uh. I have to get back to my assignment."
"Okay..." Wendy said as she watched Peter walk out onto the boardwalk.
I can't believe the first thing I do when showing up here is flirt with a waitress, Peter thought as he crossed the Sunset Marina boardwalk. He felt like kicking himself for acting like such a pig so soon after Mary Jane's death. First Jill, then Felicia.
Of course, none of those times were really my fault, Not like flirting shamelessly with that waitress Wendy, his train of thought continued. Peter shook his head to himself as he continued to walk with his head low.
It had been almost a year ago that he heard the news about MJ's plane. With everything in his life being so hectic, he didn't want to believe it. He was so hurt. But now...
It wasn't long before Peter found himself at the end of the boardwalk and at the entrance of the junk yard he saw earlier on his arrival. It was too early at the time to go asking around about it, but he had a feeling that it was a good place to start his investigation.
And sure enough, he was right.
"I can't believe it...." Peter muttered to himself in bewilderment as he stepped through the tall wooden gates surrounding the junk yard. "That's it."
On his Uncle Ben's grave, he could have swore that there in the first lot of the junk yard stood the same white and red house boat he saw in his dreams, only it looked as if the haul had begun to rot due to age and he could see a large crack running down from the side of it's cabin to the bottom of the boat.
As he slowly began to approach the house boat, a cold chill ran down his spine from his shoulders, but it wasn't his spider sense. The tarnished print on the side of the boat read "Rosemary."
Before Peter could even think of what it all could mean, there was a loud roar of engines. He turned on his heel to the source of the loud noise overwhelming his senses.
There was a long bedded tow truck positioned next to a vehicle compacting machine, and it appeared as if the frame of a totaled car was being loaded into it. Next to the machine at the operating controls, stood a man with graying hair and middle aged features.
"Excuse me?" Peter called out as he began to approach the older man, nodding to him. The man in the jeans and blue work shirt turned around from the latest arrival of two trashed vehicles, spotting Peter walk towards him.
"What can I do ya for?" He asked over the sound of the bedded truck's gears activating and lowering the vehicles. Peter glanced over the totaled cars before he looked back to the junk yard attendant and realized another reason why he didn't like driving.
"My name is Peter Parker," Peter said as he looked back to the man and lifted the ID card up from his chest to eye level. "I'm a reporter from the Daily Bugle, a newspaper based in New York. I'm doing an article, and was wondering if you could help me out?"
"I'll try the best I can," the man replied after looking over the ID Peter held up for him to see as he slid the pen he was writing with into it's spot on the clipboard in his hand. "What is it that you need?"
Peter took a moment to think over his next line, gazing his eyes down to the attendant's chest. The name tag on the work shirt read "Leroy." The junk yard was the first place on Peter's list since arriving.
"Well, Leroy, I'm actually interested in the story behind that thrashed, old boat near the front of the second lot," Peter said as he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.
"Ah," Leroy replied with a nod, appearing to have come to the realization of why any reporter would be interested in the junk yard besides inspection code violations. "You must be interested in those survivors of the big storm back in '84."
Peter paused as he grew the more curious and then feigned as if he had already knew about it. "Just a little background information. You wouldn't know anything about the prior owners and what happened out there, would you?"
"I remember some details, vaguely. For starters I uh... I think they were social workers? Worked for the state... or the government, I'm not certain. Something like that," Leroy wrinkled his nose, glancing to the ground as he tried to jog his memory. "The boat itself was fished up awhile after it went down by the Coast Guard and sent here."
"Do you have a bill of sale or any records for it?"
"Nah. I couldn't give you their names either, if that's what you're getting at," Leroy shook his head and shrugged before continuing. "I just remember reading the newspaper article way back then, and hearing about the big fuss put up over them and their family."
"I'll be sure to check out whatever newspaper articles there are about it at the local library later this afternoon," Peter made a mental note out loud before asking, "how bad was the storm?"
"Terrible. The town's power was out for days and the ports were trashed," Leroy began as he placed his hands on his hips and stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying to think further back to that day. "Most of the ships 'side from them made it back safely before it all got it too bad, though."
Peter brought his arms across his chest and rose a loose fist up to his chin, and his gaze fell to the dirt ground as the junk yard attendant began to grow silent. He didn't know what to think of the information given, but it was something to go on.
"Sorry," Leroy said, noting the look on Peter's face and biting down onto his lip as he looked into Peter's eyes sympathetically. He could see the entanglement Peter felt by the look in his eyes. "I wish I could help you with your article some more -- "
"You've actually been a big help," Peter interrupted with a weak smile as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. He stood before Leroy quiet, his eyes drifting away for a moment before he turned back to him and nodded. "Thanks for your time."
"It's been no problem at all," the man replied with the lift of his brow. He watched the back of Peter Parker as he turned and began the walk back to the boardwalk. From there, he would need to go into tourist mode in order to find the nearest library.
"So then this job openin' you're talking about..." The young white male said as he and Enrique, accompanied by another street 'associate,' walked down the streets of the lower side of Manhattan in somewhat high spirits. "It pays good, huh?"
Enrique laughed out loud at the thought of the guy who they would be working for, his thick Hispanic accent leaking through as he spoke. "You be playin' in the big leagues when you get involved with this guy, hommes."
"Seriously?" James asked with a bit of uncertain curiosity, looking between Enrique and the other guy who had showed up in the alleyway with him that night. The both of them erupted into laughter again together.
"Getting involved with a guy like this, man. How could you not be?" Enrique's friend had said, propping his hand on Enrique's shoulder and leaning into him as he recovered from their latest outburst.
"Heh..." James forced a smirk. He wasn't sure if he liked where they going with this. There was something neither of them was telling him, and it had been making them laugh their asses off all night.
"Just your every day nine to five, hommes," Enrique reassured as he pushed away the man at his side, both of their laughter had finally came down to a calm. James wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or if they were really just joshing him the whole time.
"He's good for the over time, too," the third man had said, exploding in hysterical laughter followed by Enrique. They both began to wobble into each other, their legs and guts weak from it all. Yeah, James knew there was something up with this gig now.
But none of them knew that they were being stalked by a cat. Felicia Hardy, garbed in her tight fitted black sneaking suit as the Black Cat, was knelt at the edge of a building across the street from the trio.
She could make them out clearly with a pair of electronic magnifying binoculars, and they were being loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, so it wasn't hard to follow the conversation.
Ever since her investigations business, The Cat's Eye, had folded, she found herself getting more involved with the Super-Hero biz she was once apart of. The life of street vigilante, trying to crack some of the bigger mob cases the Police couldn't.
Peter however had been somewhat skeptical as to her true motives, though she knew they were sincere. He was in fact off on his own little adventure in Maine, one that she wished she could be apart of. It was personal though and she wasn't going to impose.
The trio had finally reached their destination at the end of the street. It was a large stone building that Felicia recognized as a bakery that had been long run down. She watched as the three street thugs scanned the streets before opening one of the heavy metal entrance doors.
A loud screech sounded throughout the streets as the metal door scraped against its frame and the concrete, but no one around had seemed to care. Looking up and down the streets for anyone who may be watching, they then disappeared into the building.
The Black Cat slid the binoculars into a purple, velvet pouch attached to the loosely hung utility belt on her waist as she rose to her full height. She paused before acting, calculating the building's distance and the one of few windows it had facing the street.
Felicia took a few steps backwards on the rooftop she was perched upon, then took off into a run towards the rooftop's edge. She leapt with all her might, propelling herself halfway over the street before she fired the cable claw from her wrist towards the concrete wall surrounding the window she planned on getting in through.
Some of the concrete split off the building as the high powered claw dug itself deep into the wall, and the Black Cat pulled on the cable from midair in order to draw herself to the window, her platinum blonde hair whipping in the air.
The time it took to complete the action was all of mere seconds, and she was opening the window and ducking in from it's ledge.
"Associates from the streets," Felicia could hear that familiar voice boom throughout the concrete walls as she stepped onto a rafter's beam from the window, and steadily made her way further into the building.
"The Hobgoblin welcomes you to the shaping of his newest enterprise," the voice continued, and the Black Cat crouched down on the beam under her feet as she looked down to see a gathering of thugs from the streets.
Ahead of them all on a wide platform, a tall form began strolling out from a dark corridor with his orange cloak flowing behind him.
"Loyalty is rewarded, traitors are crucified... " The Hobgoblin started with a tone of When he turned to face the gathering before the platform, they could all see quite clearly the maniacal look he wore on his pale white face.
"I suspect you all know the nature of the beast. Shall we get down to further business?"
NEXT ISSUE: The HobGoblin's looking for his ship to finally come in! Meanwhile, Peter finally finds what it is he's traveled to Sunset Marina for -- but what does it all mean to him and to his future? Find out next ish, folks!