“Isoleucine is one of the most hydrophobic amino acids because the R-group is a bulky substance lacking any hydrophilic character… now on the other hand, asparagines…”
Peter Parker focused his eyes on his professor, but his vision blurred. He couldn’t keep his attention on the professor's lecture and it was beginning to frustrate him. It was ironic, in a way. All he could think about was how lucky he was; how he had finally received a reward for all the services rendered to the city. He had lost so much in his short tenure (it feels like so long) as the amazing Spider-Man. Yet recently, over the past year, he had gained so much. He had his lovely baby back, and now, just a little over a month ago, SHIELD had hooked him with a full scholarship (and more!) to NYU. Not only was everything paid for, but after extensive review of his academic prowess, they were paying him to go to NYU!
NYU! Peter thought to himself. He had enough money from Mary Jane’s (God…Mary Jane...) life insurance and the payments from his scholarships to last him through college, so he didn’t have to work. There were finally no more distractions. Just Spider-Man, May, and school, Peter thought to himself, though not necessarily in that order.
Peter eyed his notes again, but was unable to fully read them. His mind once again drifted. This time Peter thought of Eugene still recovering from being shot. Eugene had been released from the hospital just a week ago. After he had woken up from his coma he had recovered quickly.
At least, physically.
Eugene had been informed that Jill was dead, whom he had begun to fall in love with right before he had been shot. Upon this discovery, he entered a swift fall into depression and he had been keeping himself locked up in his room ever since.
Peter shook his head. He was sad to see Eugene - of all people - like this, but even sadder to hear that he was moving out. Eugene had announced that he had wanted to be alone and would take an apartment for himself. He had already begun packing, despite Peter’s protests. Peter didn’t feel that Eugene should be left by himself in his current state. However, Eugene wouldn't budge. He was leaving and there was no reasoning with him.
At least Felicia would still be in his life. Frankly, Peter didn't have any idea why she was still around. Usually she would have helped Peter out a little and then went on her way immediately after. He knew she was still investigating the Hobgoblin, but still… She practically lived in his apartment, playing with May all day, drinking his Mountain Dew... He wasn’t going to complain though. It was nice to have someone look after his daughter; someone watching who could protect her.
Peter looked back up to the professor, watching and listening, but he still wasn't registering what he was saying. His advisor had told him to take some refresher courses before jumping into his masters in molecular biology. Yet, apparently he had completely underestimated his intelligence, because even after all of these years the material was like reciting the ABC's for him.
Still, it’d be nice to focus and not fall asleep in class.
Peter’s mind began drifting once again, this time back to Felicia. He saw her in her costume, lazily lying across the couch with the latex gripping her curves. She smiled at Peter and slowly began to unzip her outfit from the opening in the chest area, little by little exposing more clea-
AGH! FOCUS!
Peter Parker focused his eyes on his professor, but his vision blurred. He couldn’t keep his attention on the professor's lecture and it was beginning to frustrate him. It was ironic, in a way. All he could think about was how lucky he was; how he had finally received a reward for all the services rendered to the city. He had lost so much in his short tenure (it feels like so long) as the amazing Spider-Man. Yet recently, over the past year, he had gained so much. He had his lovely baby back, and now, just a little over a month ago, SHIELD had hooked him with a full scholarship (and more!) to NYU. Not only was everything paid for, but after extensive review of his academic prowess, they were paying him to go to NYU!
NYU! Peter thought to himself. He had enough money from Mary Jane’s (God…Mary Jane...) life insurance and the payments from his scholarships to last him through college, so he didn’t have to work. There were finally no more distractions. Just Spider-Man, May, and school, Peter thought to himself, though not necessarily in that order.
Peter eyed his notes again, but was unable to fully read them. His mind once again drifted. This time Peter thought of Eugene still recovering from being shot. Eugene had been released from the hospital just a week ago. After he had woken up from his coma he had recovered quickly.
At least, physically.
Eugene had been informed that Jill was dead, whom he had begun to fall in love with right before he had been shot. Upon this discovery, he entered a swift fall into depression and he had been keeping himself locked up in his room ever since.
Peter shook his head. He was sad to see Eugene - of all people - like this, but even sadder to hear that he was moving out. Eugene had announced that he had wanted to be alone and would take an apartment for himself. He had already begun packing, despite Peter’s protests. Peter didn’t feel that Eugene should be left by himself in his current state. However, Eugene wouldn't budge. He was leaving and there was no reasoning with him.
At least Felicia would still be in his life. Frankly, Peter didn't have any idea why she was still around. Usually she would have helped Peter out a little and then went on her way immediately after. He knew she was still investigating the Hobgoblin, but still… She practically lived in his apartment, playing with May all day, drinking his Mountain Dew... He wasn’t going to complain though. It was nice to have someone look after his daughter; someone watching who could protect her.
Peter looked back up to the professor, watching and listening, but he still wasn't registering what he was saying. His advisor had told him to take some refresher courses before jumping into his masters in molecular biology. Yet, apparently he had completely underestimated his intelligence, because even after all of these years the material was like reciting the ABC's for him.
Still, it’d be nice to focus and not fall asleep in class.
Peter’s mind began drifting once again, this time back to Felicia. He saw her in her costume, lazily lying across the couch with the latex gripping her curves. She smiled at Peter and slowly began to unzip her outfit from the opening in the chest area, little by little exposing more clea-
AGH! FOCUS!
Back to GatefoldIssue #33 by Adnan Khan
|
"NATIONS OF GODS AND EARTHS"
Part One - Happiness is Hard to Come By
“Glad to see you back,” Hammerhead said, smiling at the man who had just stepped into his office. The six foot man nodded and took a seat in the well lit room without even so much as Hammerhead asking him too. The crime boss narrowed his eyes, but decided to ignore his guest's curt behavior. The man was very professional and efficient at what he did, and little things like that would not bother Hammerhead as long as the man continued to perform up to par.
“It all went well?”
The man nodded. “Yeah. Easy shit.”
“Good to hear," Hammerhead said. "Aight, let me break it down for you. Your practice run was perfect, so now I got you a list. This list got all the people I want you to take care of, so get it done, Stevens.”
“You’re the boss," Stevens replied. "It’ll be taken care of. Like I said... easy shit.”
“Remember boy, you’re in New York now," Hammerhead continued. "Wait until you face one of these 'superheroes.' It won’t be so easy shit then."
The man was still smiling at Hammerhead, “easy shit.” Shrugging he reached out with a hand and gestured it inward. “Ehere’s this list?”
“Right here,” Hammerhead said and handed Stevens a manila envelope. Stevens took it and opened the envelope, taking out the files and looking them over quickly. They included pictures of the targets and some background information on them. After a few quiet moments of Hammerhead just watching Stevens read, until the man finally cleared his throat.
“Sorry,” Stevens said, looking up to Hammerhead. “I’m good now.” He took out his lighter and lit the envelope with the files in them on fire.
“You telling me you got all that information already?” Hammerhead asked.
Stevens smiled. “All up here now that I’ve looked at them,” he said, pointing at his head. He grinned and threw the burning envelope in the unlit fireplace in the corner of the room.
“Don’t worry Hammerhead," he continued. "I’ll take care of it.” Stevens grinned one last time and went for the door of Hammerhead's office, stepping out.
Hammerhead sat back and then finally the door opened again.
“You heard?” he asked of the new arrival.
“Yeah, heard it all," the new arrival said. "He sounds pretty confident."
“I noticed that too,” Hammerhead said, quickly changing the subject. “How 'bout you? You take care of your business?”
“Of course.”
“Good," Hammerhead said. "That shit cost me a good fortune and I better make some good money off of that.”
“Yeah, well, after we’re done testing it on Vinnie’s boy, we’ll be able to flood the streets with that stuff.”
“I swear to God, if it starts killing peo...”
The other man cut him off. “Don’t worry. Like I told you, it’s all covered.” The man turned around and proceeded to step out, but then stopped. “You need me to watch your boy?”
“No," Hammerhead replied. "He’s got it.”
“He sure smiled a lot on his way in and out," the second arrival said. "Kind of irritating, you know what I mean?”
Hammerhead laughed. “Well, his name is Smiling Stevens for a reason.”
Peter warily stepped into his apartment. He threw his bag on the couch in the living room and stepped into the hallway, “Felicia?”
After the quiet responded to him, he shrugged. “Eugene? Anyone?”
The quiet greeted him again.
Hm… Peter thought to himself, where was everyone? He moved across the apartment and stepped into the bathroom, going to turn the faucet on. He had spent the entire day on campus and was mentally exhausted. Peter washed his hands and face and stepped out of the bathroom. He walked into the kitchen and looked around before opening the fridge.
The full fridge was not something he was used to. Peter managed to pull out some leftover chicken from the night before and put it in the microwave when he heard the soft jingle of keys outside his door. After hitting start, he stepped out into the corridor and saw Felicia walking in with some bags and May. May softly cooed and then looked at Peter. She smiled and reached out, yelling “Gah!”
Peter grinned. He grabbed May and said to his daughter, “and just where have you been, lovely lady?” May just gurgled in response, still smiling. Peter looked up at Felicia, who was putting the bags down on the other side of the kitchen.
“Oh, I took May shopping," Felicia said. "I thought it would be fun.”
“Well, yeah,” Peter paused, then shook his head. “Okay.”
“You alright?” Felicia looked concerned.
“Yeah," Peter answered. "Just leave a note or call me or something next time.”
“Sorry, I forgot,” Felicia looked at Peter and saw he was still uncomfortable. “Don’t worry; I’ll do it next time.”
“Okay, thanks,” Peter nodded to the kitchen. “You hungry? I got enough chicken for both of us…”
“Sure, thanks," Felicia said. "Besides, I want to see you feeding May. I love the way your spidey-sense doesn’t warn you when she’s about to hurl food at you.”
Peter grinned and grudgingly responded. “Oh, please. I let her hit me. It helps her self confidence.”
“Yeah, okay,” Felicia said sarcastically. “You going out tonight?”
“Nah, you can go out. I think I’m going to spend some time with my baby girl,” he said, nodding at May in his arms, who was occasionally making a strange sound.
“Alright," Felicia said. "I’ll leave you two alone after dinner.”
Just as she finished her sentence, the microwave pinged and Peter moved to step into the kitchen as Felicia moved to leave at the same time, both running into each other.
“Agh!" Peter groaned playfully. "Get out of my way, woman!”
Felicia laughed and shoved Peter aside while following, “You’ve been spending too many days in doors now, y'know? You’re getting fat.”
“Please. If anyone’s indoors all day it’s you,” Peter smiled at her. “What’s that I see?! LOVE HANDLES?!”
Felicia scoffed in indignation and hit him on the arm. Peter laughed and pulled out the chicken with one hand while holding May in the other. “Can you grab a jar of Gerber in the fridge?”
Felicia groped around the fridge until she snagged the small jar. She pulled it out and set it on the table. “You know, I feel like some kind of house-wife now.”
Peter grinned as he put May in her chair. “Yeah well, lord help us if you ever did become a house-wife, let alone a mother,” he teased before sitting down in a chair next to her.
“Please," Felicia replied, mocking Peter by the use of his word. "I’d be a great mother. One that all her friends will be jealous of because of how gorgeous and sexy I still am after popping out a batch of brats.”
“Conceited much?” Peter asked with the hunch of his brows.
“Just realistic,” she said and jokingly leaned in to, seductively, and she stopped. Peter was momentarily frozen, just as she was. They looked at each other for a moment before someone cleared his throat.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Peter looked up and saw Eugene grinning coyly. Peter laughed awkwardly, pulling away from Felicia and looking to his short-lived roommate.
“No, not at all Eugene,” he glanced at Felicia and then focused back on Eugene. “First time I've seen you smile lately."
“Yeah, well, I just met with Doctor Jones,” he said, referring to his psychologist. "It’s good, you know, talking to him.”
“Yeah, we understand," Felicia said. "But you know Eugene, you could always talk to one us if you needed to."
“I know, I know. It’s just,... Eugene immediately quieted down for a moment before softly saying. “It’s just different, I guess.”
Peter sighed. Eugene had shut himself in again. “You need any help, uh, packing?” he asked, uncertainly.
“Nah, I got it. I’ll let you guys enjoy your dinner," Eugene insisted. "Don’t worry too much about me.” He began walking out of the kitchen before stopping and turning to them with a weak smile. “Seriously, you two. Don’t worry 'bout me.”
Peter leaned back in his chair while caressing May’s dark red hair in one hand. It reminded him of Mary Jane sometimes, except it was darker and more auburn. When she got older, the red would probably leave it. “I wish he’d let us in,” Peter said.
"Yeah," Felicia responded before quietly beginning her meal. “I know what you mean.”
“The Hobgoblin’s pissed,” Joey said. He stepped out of the car and began walking towards the auto shop with his friend, Michael.
“Tell me about it," Michael said. "Ever since he lost out on the deal with the Angels, he’s been on a warpath.”
“You see him put Dicky V. in the hospital the other day?" Joey asked his friend. I mean I know the guy talks a lot, but was it necessary to do that to him?”
“Nah, Dicky V. had it coming to him," Michael replied. "The guy doesn’t shut up and half the time he's just talking out of his ass.”
“Yeah, well, it still makes a guy fear for his own well being," Joey said. "Know what I mean?”
“No doubt, man. No doubt,” Michael smirked and was about to grab the door knob to the auto shop when suddenly the door opened. Michael looked at the man coming out and stepped back. “Excuse us, sir," he said politely and began to walk around him.
“No, excuse me,” the man grinned. He noticed Joey looking at him skeptically. “I have a question,” the man said, addressing Joey in particular.
Joey put his hand through his hair. “Yeah?”
“You guys... in this building... all the guys in there..." the man started. "You're all the Hobgoblin’s soldiers, right?”
"The Hobgoblin?" Michael asked, nervously eyeing Joey before he responded. "Man, you got the wrong people.”
“Nah, I don’t think I do,” the man said and kept grinning. “In fact, if I’m not mistaken, you guys are his top pushers around these parts.”
Joey decided he had had enough of the game. He grabbed the man’s arm and tugged on him threateningly. “And who, may I ask, the fuck are you?”
“You don’t recognize me?” the man asked and he stopped grinning. “And here I thought everyone had heard of me.”
Joey started to respond, but all that came out was a sickening groan.
“Urk!”
He looked down and saw the man’s free hand twisting a knife tightly into his stomach. Joey looked over the man’s shoulder at Michael, who was behind the grinning man.
“Joey? You alright man?” Michael saw the pleading look in Joey’s eyes and stepped forward. The grinning man felt Joey’s hand loosen on his other arm and he immediately wrenched himself free of Joey's grasp. “What the hell did you do to…?”
Michael stopped talking. The man had used the momentum from wringing his arm free from Joey to quickly slice through Michael’s neck. The blade came away, blood dripping. Using the momentum from turning his body, the man wrenched the blade free from Joey’s stomach. In a blur of motion, he slit his way through Joey’s neck and shoved the same knife into Michael’s forehead.
The man quickly pulled it out and side stepped the blood that came sputtering out. Michael collapsed to the ground over Joey's already fallen body, and if the two weren't dead, they sure were on their way.
“I’m seriously wondering how this Hobgoblin’s gonna be such a threat," Smiling Stevens wondered aloud as he looked over his handy work.
Robbie Robertson stepped into the office of Daily Bugle publisher J. Jonah Jameson with a newspaper in hand, a large smile across his face.
“Great article, Jonah!” he said.
Jonah looked up at his friend and smiled. “Thanks, Robbie, but…”
He was cut off by Robbie, “No, you don’t understand. It’s great to see an editorial from you not bashing Spider-Man while focusing on the real issues. It’s time someone talks about the rising activity in the New York underworld… Something the government and the NYPD seems to be ignoring.”
Jonah waved Robbie to be quiet. “Don’t think I’ve gone soft, do you? I’m still looking for a connection between that wall crawling weasel and all these goons ripping through the city. Probably in cahoots I tell you!”
“What?!” Robbie angrily replied. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope,” Jonah smiled gleefully. “This is merely the first in a series of editorials. I’ll be covering all the major crime bosses and their activities in here, including Spider-Man.”
“Jonah, this is an old argument, and I may sound like a broken record, too, but you’ve seen first hand how Spider-Man’s a hero!”
“Bah!” Jonah angrily strode to his desk. "It’s all a damn cover up, and this time, I intend to prove it!”
“Jonah…” Robbie sighed, and kept speaking, “I’ve known you for a long time, but I’ve never said anything to you about it, but frankly, today I feel I should. I know exactly why you hate Spider-Man! And frankly, I think it’s unbecoming of an influential New York publisher!”
Jonah narrowed his eyes. “And just what, exactly, do you mean?”
“Jealousy, Jonah. Jealousy,” Robbie nodded his head at the paper on Jonah’s desk. “All the hate that you spit from that paper... it's because of jealousy. We’re old friends Jonah, and I know you too well. You hate Spider-Man because you feel inadequate next to him, and you feel like he’s everything you wish you could be to this city one way or another.”
Jonah sputtered in rage that Robbie would speak to him so, but before he could continue, Robbie turned around and opened the door out of Jonah's office. Before he left, though, he stopped and looked at Jonah.
“You have a good article there, Jonah," he said. "A good purpose. If you can uncover all the details about what’s going on in this city, and how it’s going down the drain because of all these criminals, then you’ve done everything you can do. Maybe more than Spider-Man. Just remember that Jonah.
“Don’t ruin a good thing.”
Davey Fortunato considered himself a decent man. He often did things he was not personally proud of, but it was necessary for his cause. He was a good employer. Indeed, the three bodyguards surrounding him would never complain to him about his way of doing things.
Ever since Jimmy 6 had taken an interest in establishing control and order in his father’s crumbling empire, he had immediately joined with his cousin. He knew that Jimmy 6 wanted to establish control and then slowly move the businesses towards a more legal market, but Davey would deal with that when they got to that point. Indeed, if they won this crime war, the winner of whom would take on the Kingpin, there would be yet another internal struggle for control.
That though, was a while away. First they had to take control of the lower street level pushers and goons. In this case, the Hobgoblin and Hammerhead, before eliminating the big gun, the Kingpin.
It would take time, but in the end, Davey planned to see himself in charge. Through all this, Davey still made it a point to help people. The common man, those not involved in his business, never raised his ire. He called himself a philanthropist, in a way.
That is why he smiled benevolently at the man who approached him on that night, asking him for a favor. He had just eaten a great meal in the Greek restaurant that he had been walking out of, and he was in a good enough mood to entertain him.
“Excuse me sir?” the man approached Davey, with both hands in his pockets. Two of Davey's bodyguards stepped in front of the man, but the man persisted. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Sure, son,” Davey said.
“You are Davey Fortunato?”
“Yes,” Davey shoved his hands in his pockets to warm them up. “What is it that I can do for you?”
“Well, you see...” the man began and he quickly took his hands from his pockets and slammed two knives upwards into the crotches of Davey's bodyguard. They both went down immediately, collapsing to the street below. The third body guard pushed Davey aside and reached into his jacket.
“Don’t do that!” the man said, amusement in his voice. Quickly reaching into his own jacket, he brought out his own gun quicker then the bodyguard could. After two quick gunshots suppressed by his silencer, the man watched the bodyguard go down just as the two before him. He tucked his weapon back into his jacket and looked at Davey with a wicked smile.
“What?" Davey asked, shook by both anger and fear. "What?!"
“Hammerhead’s on the offensive,” the man said, reaching down and pulling one of the bloody knives from one of the bodyguards’ crotch. The man wiped the blade clean with a cloth and he looked to Davey, hunching his brow at the man with a provocative grin.
“And frankly, I am not impressed with your defense.”
TO BE CONTINUED...
“It all went well?”
The man nodded. “Yeah. Easy shit.”
“Good to hear," Hammerhead said. "Aight, let me break it down for you. Your practice run was perfect, so now I got you a list. This list got all the people I want you to take care of, so get it done, Stevens.”
“You’re the boss," Stevens replied. "It’ll be taken care of. Like I said... easy shit.”
“Remember boy, you’re in New York now," Hammerhead continued. "Wait until you face one of these 'superheroes.' It won’t be so easy shit then."
The man was still smiling at Hammerhead, “easy shit.” Shrugging he reached out with a hand and gestured it inward. “Ehere’s this list?”
“Right here,” Hammerhead said and handed Stevens a manila envelope. Stevens took it and opened the envelope, taking out the files and looking them over quickly. They included pictures of the targets and some background information on them. After a few quiet moments of Hammerhead just watching Stevens read, until the man finally cleared his throat.
“Sorry,” Stevens said, looking up to Hammerhead. “I’m good now.” He took out his lighter and lit the envelope with the files in them on fire.
“You telling me you got all that information already?” Hammerhead asked.
Stevens smiled. “All up here now that I’ve looked at them,” he said, pointing at his head. He grinned and threw the burning envelope in the unlit fireplace in the corner of the room.
“Don’t worry Hammerhead," he continued. "I’ll take care of it.” Stevens grinned one last time and went for the door of Hammerhead's office, stepping out.
Hammerhead sat back and then finally the door opened again.
“You heard?” he asked of the new arrival.
“Yeah, heard it all," the new arrival said. "He sounds pretty confident."
“I noticed that too,” Hammerhead said, quickly changing the subject. “How 'bout you? You take care of your business?”
“Of course.”
“Good," Hammerhead said. "That shit cost me a good fortune and I better make some good money off of that.”
“Yeah, well, after we’re done testing it on Vinnie’s boy, we’ll be able to flood the streets with that stuff.”
“I swear to God, if it starts killing peo...”
The other man cut him off. “Don’t worry. Like I told you, it’s all covered.” The man turned around and proceeded to step out, but then stopped. “You need me to watch your boy?”
“No," Hammerhead replied. "He’s got it.”
“He sure smiled a lot on his way in and out," the second arrival said. "Kind of irritating, you know what I mean?”
Hammerhead laughed. “Well, his name is Smiling Stevens for a reason.”
Peter warily stepped into his apartment. He threw his bag on the couch in the living room and stepped into the hallway, “Felicia?”
After the quiet responded to him, he shrugged. “Eugene? Anyone?”
The quiet greeted him again.
Hm… Peter thought to himself, where was everyone? He moved across the apartment and stepped into the bathroom, going to turn the faucet on. He had spent the entire day on campus and was mentally exhausted. Peter washed his hands and face and stepped out of the bathroom. He walked into the kitchen and looked around before opening the fridge.
The full fridge was not something he was used to. Peter managed to pull out some leftover chicken from the night before and put it in the microwave when he heard the soft jingle of keys outside his door. After hitting start, he stepped out into the corridor and saw Felicia walking in with some bags and May. May softly cooed and then looked at Peter. She smiled and reached out, yelling “Gah!”
Peter grinned. He grabbed May and said to his daughter, “and just where have you been, lovely lady?” May just gurgled in response, still smiling. Peter looked up at Felicia, who was putting the bags down on the other side of the kitchen.
“Oh, I took May shopping," Felicia said. "I thought it would be fun.”
“Well, yeah,” Peter paused, then shook his head. “Okay.”
“You alright?” Felicia looked concerned.
“Yeah," Peter answered. "Just leave a note or call me or something next time.”
“Sorry, I forgot,” Felicia looked at Peter and saw he was still uncomfortable. “Don’t worry; I’ll do it next time.”
“Okay, thanks,” Peter nodded to the kitchen. “You hungry? I got enough chicken for both of us…”
“Sure, thanks," Felicia said. "Besides, I want to see you feeding May. I love the way your spidey-sense doesn’t warn you when she’s about to hurl food at you.”
Peter grinned and grudgingly responded. “Oh, please. I let her hit me. It helps her self confidence.”
“Yeah, okay,” Felicia said sarcastically. “You going out tonight?”
“Nah, you can go out. I think I’m going to spend some time with my baby girl,” he said, nodding at May in his arms, who was occasionally making a strange sound.
“Alright," Felicia said. "I’ll leave you two alone after dinner.”
Just as she finished her sentence, the microwave pinged and Peter moved to step into the kitchen as Felicia moved to leave at the same time, both running into each other.
“Agh!" Peter groaned playfully. "Get out of my way, woman!”
Felicia laughed and shoved Peter aside while following, “You’ve been spending too many days in doors now, y'know? You’re getting fat.”
“Please. If anyone’s indoors all day it’s you,” Peter smiled at her. “What’s that I see?! LOVE HANDLES?!”
Felicia scoffed in indignation and hit him on the arm. Peter laughed and pulled out the chicken with one hand while holding May in the other. “Can you grab a jar of Gerber in the fridge?”
Felicia groped around the fridge until she snagged the small jar. She pulled it out and set it on the table. “You know, I feel like some kind of house-wife now.”
Peter grinned as he put May in her chair. “Yeah well, lord help us if you ever did become a house-wife, let alone a mother,” he teased before sitting down in a chair next to her.
“Please," Felicia replied, mocking Peter by the use of his word. "I’d be a great mother. One that all her friends will be jealous of because of how gorgeous and sexy I still am after popping out a batch of brats.”
“Conceited much?” Peter asked with the hunch of his brows.
“Just realistic,” she said and jokingly leaned in to, seductively, and she stopped. Peter was momentarily frozen, just as she was. They looked at each other for a moment before someone cleared his throat.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Peter looked up and saw Eugene grinning coyly. Peter laughed awkwardly, pulling away from Felicia and looking to his short-lived roommate.
“No, not at all Eugene,” he glanced at Felicia and then focused back on Eugene. “First time I've seen you smile lately."
“Yeah, well, I just met with Doctor Jones,” he said, referring to his psychologist. "It’s good, you know, talking to him.”
“Yeah, we understand," Felicia said. "But you know Eugene, you could always talk to one us if you needed to."
“I know, I know. It’s just,... Eugene immediately quieted down for a moment before softly saying. “It’s just different, I guess.”
Peter sighed. Eugene had shut himself in again. “You need any help, uh, packing?” he asked, uncertainly.
“Nah, I got it. I’ll let you guys enjoy your dinner," Eugene insisted. "Don’t worry too much about me.” He began walking out of the kitchen before stopping and turning to them with a weak smile. “Seriously, you two. Don’t worry 'bout me.”
Peter leaned back in his chair while caressing May’s dark red hair in one hand. It reminded him of Mary Jane sometimes, except it was darker and more auburn. When she got older, the red would probably leave it. “I wish he’d let us in,” Peter said.
"Yeah," Felicia responded before quietly beginning her meal. “I know what you mean.”
“The Hobgoblin’s pissed,” Joey said. He stepped out of the car and began walking towards the auto shop with his friend, Michael.
“Tell me about it," Michael said. "Ever since he lost out on the deal with the Angels, he’s been on a warpath.”
“You see him put Dicky V. in the hospital the other day?" Joey asked his friend. I mean I know the guy talks a lot, but was it necessary to do that to him?”
“Nah, Dicky V. had it coming to him," Michael replied. "The guy doesn’t shut up and half the time he's just talking out of his ass.”
“Yeah, well, it still makes a guy fear for his own well being," Joey said. "Know what I mean?”
“No doubt, man. No doubt,” Michael smirked and was about to grab the door knob to the auto shop when suddenly the door opened. Michael looked at the man coming out and stepped back. “Excuse us, sir," he said politely and began to walk around him.
“No, excuse me,” the man grinned. He noticed Joey looking at him skeptically. “I have a question,” the man said, addressing Joey in particular.
Joey put his hand through his hair. “Yeah?”
“You guys... in this building... all the guys in there..." the man started. "You're all the Hobgoblin’s soldiers, right?”
"The Hobgoblin?" Michael asked, nervously eyeing Joey before he responded. "Man, you got the wrong people.”
“Nah, I don’t think I do,” the man said and kept grinning. “In fact, if I’m not mistaken, you guys are his top pushers around these parts.”
Joey decided he had had enough of the game. He grabbed the man’s arm and tugged on him threateningly. “And who, may I ask, the fuck are you?”
“You don’t recognize me?” the man asked and he stopped grinning. “And here I thought everyone had heard of me.”
Joey started to respond, but all that came out was a sickening groan.
“Urk!”
He looked down and saw the man’s free hand twisting a knife tightly into his stomach. Joey looked over the man’s shoulder at Michael, who was behind the grinning man.
“Joey? You alright man?” Michael saw the pleading look in Joey’s eyes and stepped forward. The grinning man felt Joey’s hand loosen on his other arm and he immediately wrenched himself free of Joey's grasp. “What the hell did you do to…?”
Michael stopped talking. The man had used the momentum from wringing his arm free from Joey to quickly slice through Michael’s neck. The blade came away, blood dripping. Using the momentum from turning his body, the man wrenched the blade free from Joey’s stomach. In a blur of motion, he slit his way through Joey’s neck and shoved the same knife into Michael’s forehead.
The man quickly pulled it out and side stepped the blood that came sputtering out. Michael collapsed to the ground over Joey's already fallen body, and if the two weren't dead, they sure were on their way.
“I’m seriously wondering how this Hobgoblin’s gonna be such a threat," Smiling Stevens wondered aloud as he looked over his handy work.
Robbie Robertson stepped into the office of Daily Bugle publisher J. Jonah Jameson with a newspaper in hand, a large smile across his face.
“Great article, Jonah!” he said.
Jonah looked up at his friend and smiled. “Thanks, Robbie, but…”
He was cut off by Robbie, “No, you don’t understand. It’s great to see an editorial from you not bashing Spider-Man while focusing on the real issues. It’s time someone talks about the rising activity in the New York underworld… Something the government and the NYPD seems to be ignoring.”
Jonah waved Robbie to be quiet. “Don’t think I’ve gone soft, do you? I’m still looking for a connection between that wall crawling weasel and all these goons ripping through the city. Probably in cahoots I tell you!”
“What?!” Robbie angrily replied. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope,” Jonah smiled gleefully. “This is merely the first in a series of editorials. I’ll be covering all the major crime bosses and their activities in here, including Spider-Man.”
“Jonah, this is an old argument, and I may sound like a broken record, too, but you’ve seen first hand how Spider-Man’s a hero!”
“Bah!” Jonah angrily strode to his desk. "It’s all a damn cover up, and this time, I intend to prove it!”
“Jonah…” Robbie sighed, and kept speaking, “I’ve known you for a long time, but I’ve never said anything to you about it, but frankly, today I feel I should. I know exactly why you hate Spider-Man! And frankly, I think it’s unbecoming of an influential New York publisher!”
Jonah narrowed his eyes. “And just what, exactly, do you mean?”
“Jealousy, Jonah. Jealousy,” Robbie nodded his head at the paper on Jonah’s desk. “All the hate that you spit from that paper... it's because of jealousy. We’re old friends Jonah, and I know you too well. You hate Spider-Man because you feel inadequate next to him, and you feel like he’s everything you wish you could be to this city one way or another.”
Jonah sputtered in rage that Robbie would speak to him so, but before he could continue, Robbie turned around and opened the door out of Jonah's office. Before he left, though, he stopped and looked at Jonah.
“You have a good article there, Jonah," he said. "A good purpose. If you can uncover all the details about what’s going on in this city, and how it’s going down the drain because of all these criminals, then you’ve done everything you can do. Maybe more than Spider-Man. Just remember that Jonah.
“Don’t ruin a good thing.”
Davey Fortunato considered himself a decent man. He often did things he was not personally proud of, but it was necessary for his cause. He was a good employer. Indeed, the three bodyguards surrounding him would never complain to him about his way of doing things.
Ever since Jimmy 6 had taken an interest in establishing control and order in his father’s crumbling empire, he had immediately joined with his cousin. He knew that Jimmy 6 wanted to establish control and then slowly move the businesses towards a more legal market, but Davey would deal with that when they got to that point. Indeed, if they won this crime war, the winner of whom would take on the Kingpin, there would be yet another internal struggle for control.
That though, was a while away. First they had to take control of the lower street level pushers and goons. In this case, the Hobgoblin and Hammerhead, before eliminating the big gun, the Kingpin.
It would take time, but in the end, Davey planned to see himself in charge. Through all this, Davey still made it a point to help people. The common man, those not involved in his business, never raised his ire. He called himself a philanthropist, in a way.
That is why he smiled benevolently at the man who approached him on that night, asking him for a favor. He had just eaten a great meal in the Greek restaurant that he had been walking out of, and he was in a good enough mood to entertain him.
“Excuse me sir?” the man approached Davey, with both hands in his pockets. Two of Davey's bodyguards stepped in front of the man, but the man persisted. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Sure, son,” Davey said.
“You are Davey Fortunato?”
“Yes,” Davey shoved his hands in his pockets to warm them up. “What is it that I can do for you?”
“Well, you see...” the man began and he quickly took his hands from his pockets and slammed two knives upwards into the crotches of Davey's bodyguard. They both went down immediately, collapsing to the street below. The third body guard pushed Davey aside and reached into his jacket.
“Don’t do that!” the man said, amusement in his voice. Quickly reaching into his own jacket, he brought out his own gun quicker then the bodyguard could. After two quick gunshots suppressed by his silencer, the man watched the bodyguard go down just as the two before him. He tucked his weapon back into his jacket and looked at Davey with a wicked smile.
“What?" Davey asked, shook by both anger and fear. "What?!"
“Hammerhead’s on the offensive,” the man said, reaching down and pulling one of the bloody knives from one of the bodyguards’ crotch. The man wiped the blade clean with a cloth and he looked to Davey, hunching his brow at the man with a provocative grin.
“And frankly, I am not impressed with your defense.”
TO BE CONTINUED...