In case you missed it:
-Peter and young May Parker have in recent months come under the patronage of the mysterious Aladdin Agency, prompting Peter to do special ‘favors’ for Aladdin agents Daniel Toy and Charlene Bronson out of respect for their arrangement. (issue 32)
-One of these ‘favors’ was the investigation of a mysterious weapon system entitled ‘The World’, which seems to have some connection to the Tinkerer and Liz Osborn. (issues 39-40, 42) But the one man connected to all of this is Alexander Lukin (issue 40, 43)…and who knows what he’s thinking!
-Peter’s arch-nemesis, Liz Osborn, has told Peter she’s staying on the sidelines while Peter raises his daughter, (issue 37) but she’s hired the Ghost as a contract thug, and has gotten someone else to don the Rose Goblin costume! (issue 42)
-Randy Robertson has returned to Peter’s life…and his spare room (Annual 2007) When Randy’s not working late tending the bars of Manhattan’s night life, he’s Peter’s preferred baby handler.
-Peter and Betty Brant have been enjoying each other’s company for a little while and finally went on a date last night! But that date was soured by Paul Stacy’s suspicious reappearance, then cut short as news spread about the Lizard’s reappearance! (issue 44)
-The Hobgoblin has come back to town, after having his company stolen out from under him. He’s declared his vengeance on those who’ve wronged him…particularly Alexander Lukin. (issue 41)
-Angela Yin told Peter point-blank that she wants to be Spidey’s new photographer. And nothing is going to stand in her way. (Annual 2007)
-A new Foolkiller has started a strange pattern of murders and assaults in order to crush Spider-Man. These victims include J. Jonah Jameson (issue 38) and Curt Connors (Annual 2007), the latter of whom has gone to jail for the Foolkiller’s crime. Foolkiller’s yet to confront Spidey himself, but he has gained a prototype of a Lizard formula, using it to unleash Conners' wild side! (issue 43, 44)
-Eugene Patillo-Slodnik, the formerly fabulous Frog-man, disappeared from Peter’s life (issue 36) but he’s reappeared wearing a stolen costume from Spidey’s old friend, the Prowler (Annual 2007, issue 41). Eugene is eager to help Peter however, and has given both Spidey and Betty Brant information regarding the World (issues 41, 42)
-Angela Yin told Peter point-blank that she wants to be Spidey’s new photographer. (Annual 2007) She even went so far as to interject herself into the Spidey’s fight with the Lizard! (issue 44)
-Watching over all this is the enigmatic ninja, Ronin, who’s helped both Eugene (issue 43) and Spidey (issue 42) in recent days, but still keeps his cards close to his chest.
-Peter and young May Parker have in recent months come under the patronage of the mysterious Aladdin Agency, prompting Peter to do special ‘favors’ for Aladdin agents Daniel Toy and Charlene Bronson out of respect for their arrangement. (issue 32)
-One of these ‘favors’ was the investigation of a mysterious weapon system entitled ‘The World’, which seems to have some connection to the Tinkerer and Liz Osborn. (issues 39-40, 42) But the one man connected to all of this is Alexander Lukin (issue 40, 43)…and who knows what he’s thinking!
-Peter’s arch-nemesis, Liz Osborn, has told Peter she’s staying on the sidelines while Peter raises his daughter, (issue 37) but she’s hired the Ghost as a contract thug, and has gotten someone else to don the Rose Goblin costume! (issue 42)
-Randy Robertson has returned to Peter’s life…and his spare room (Annual 2007) When Randy’s not working late tending the bars of Manhattan’s night life, he’s Peter’s preferred baby handler.
-Peter and Betty Brant have been enjoying each other’s company for a little while and finally went on a date last night! But that date was soured by Paul Stacy’s suspicious reappearance, then cut short as news spread about the Lizard’s reappearance! (issue 44)
-The Hobgoblin has come back to town, after having his company stolen out from under him. He’s declared his vengeance on those who’ve wronged him…particularly Alexander Lukin. (issue 41)
-Angela Yin told Peter point-blank that she wants to be Spidey’s new photographer. And nothing is going to stand in her way. (Annual 2007)
-A new Foolkiller has started a strange pattern of murders and assaults in order to crush Spider-Man. These victims include J. Jonah Jameson (issue 38) and Curt Connors (Annual 2007), the latter of whom has gone to jail for the Foolkiller’s crime. Foolkiller’s yet to confront Spidey himself, but he has gained a prototype of a Lizard formula, using it to unleash Conners' wild side! (issue 43, 44)
-Eugene Patillo-Slodnik, the formerly fabulous Frog-man, disappeared from Peter’s life (issue 36) but he’s reappeared wearing a stolen costume from Spidey’s old friend, the Prowler (Annual 2007, issue 41). Eugene is eager to help Peter however, and has given both Spidey and Betty Brant information regarding the World (issues 41, 42)
-Angela Yin told Peter point-blank that she wants to be Spidey’s new photographer. (Annual 2007) She even went so far as to interject herself into the Spidey’s fight with the Lizard! (issue 44)
-Watching over all this is the enigmatic ninja, Ronin, who’s helped both Eugene (issue 43) and Spidey (issue 42) in recent days, but still keeps his cards close to his chest.
Back to GatefoldIssue #45 by Bryan Locke
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"JUST SHOOT ME"
His daughter’s screaming awoke him. His vision took more than a second to focus, but he was up quick. Morning peeked through his blinds.
“Oh no!” Peter leapt to May’s crib. He scooped her into his arms. “You poor baby, how long have you been screaming?”
Peter was happy that nausea hadn’t overcome him just yet. He rocked May gently back and forth on his hip. His eyes still felt heavy, and his stomach was still cramped a little bit.
The Lizard did something to me last night…I feel awful. I don’t know what’s going on with Doctor Connors, but the Lizard had a new look…and about a spoonful of intelligence. Sometimes he’s been at least coherent…maybe he could have at least gloated about how many hours I had left to live…no, if this poison was fatal, I’d have been dead before I picked up Mayday from Aunt May’s last night. I hope I feel better soon, ‘cause I still have to call Betty to apologize for ditching out on her…*
(*-I guess last ish the Lizard made a better dance partner than Betty, huh, Pete?- Bryan doesn’t dance)
He had just reached the kitchen when dizziness slapped him. Peter grasped the counter, with the hand that wasn’t gripping May to his hip, and paused for a deep breath. He set May up on the counter close to the fridge, holding her there with one hand. With the other hand, he reached into the fridge for the apple juice, then proceeded to fix May a cup of Please-Have-Mercy-On-Your-Father.
May nursed the cup’s spout, and was content.
Peter let his shoulders relax. Ahhh…silence. As much as I’ve tried, I haven’t gotten any sleep. These cramps and chills have made that impossible. And of course, intense vomiting doesn’t help either…
With another few jumps, Peter was back in his bedroom, putting May into her crib. He tossed a few of her stuffed animals into the crib and thought, I gotta lay down, baby. You gotta let papa rest. Randy’s obviously not home, otherwise May’s screaming, or even the aforementioned intense vomiting, would’ve probably woken him up. He’ll be back soon, since he thinks I’ve got class today…well, I do have a class today, but there’s no way I’m getting to it feeling like this…
As soon as Peter let himself fall onto the bed, nausea washed over him. “Urrrrhhhhh…” Rolling, Peter fell off the bed. Pushing himself off his chest, he clamored for the bathroom. Reaching it, he unloaded his gut into the toilet like there was a garden hose in his esophagus. Peter couldn’t believe he had that much left in him.
It was at this point, he heard a loud rapping noise at his door.
Peter slumped back in the bathroom, wiped at his lips. “Randy forgot his keys again.” As he stood, Peter’s mind briefly flashed: Costumes and webshooters—locked up? Check!
He reached the door expecting to see a haggard Randy Robertson. Turning the handle, Peter wondered when Randy worked again. Maybe Peter could convince Randy to look after May while Peter slept off this poison…
The door opened and Peter did not see Randy Robertson.
“Betty!” Peter’s stomach cramped again.
“Mister Parker—” Betty had a snarl on her face that seemed to suck the light out of the air around her. Peter was ready to duck, when Betty suddenly stopped. Her snarl eased. Her brow furled and she got close to him.
Betty smacked her palm onto Peter’s forehead. Then she put her ear to Peter’s chest.
“Peter, you’re burning up!” Betty analyzed with no hint of a snarl. “You look terrible!”
Peter was about to reply when Betty grabbed his wrist, pushed against him, forcing them both back into his apartment. She didn’t stop. She pulled Peter past his kitchen, narrowly around those sharp corners, and into his bedroom. There, she pushed him onto his bed.
“You should’ve called me and told me you were sick!” Betty sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “You shouldn’t be sick and taking care of your baby at the same time.”
Peter sat up on the bed. “I’m fine, and I was going to call—”
“You had the shrimp cocktails, didn’t you?” Betty interrupted.
“Huh?” Peter’s eyebrows raised.
“The shrimp cocktails? At the party last night? They were bad,” Betty said, smirking at him. “Ben Urich is all kinds of sick, just like you.”
Peter threw himself backward on his pillow, and brought his hands to his temples. He’d eaten a half dozen of those delicious little shrimp cocktails. He’d stood right next to Ben Urich and they’d devoured those crustacean criminals like lumber in a wood chipper. The Lizard hadn’t poisoned him at all…Oh, man—is ‘stupid’ a strong enough word for how I feel right now? Food poisoning! No kidding!
“So move over.” Betty pushed Peter closer to the center of the bed. Peter was a bit surprised, but didn’t stop her. “No wonder you left so quickly. I bet you were hugging the toilet all night, you poor thing.” She snuggled into the bed, despite the fact she was wearing a nice business skirt, blazer and heels. She pulled Peter tight against her chest.
“Mmm…” Peter muttered, but snuggled closer. “This is so much better than a thermometer.”
“You’re lucky,” Betty said simply. “You ditched me last night, and now you smell like barf. How many other girls do you know who would put up with that?” Her tone said she wasn’t really expecting an answer.
Peter suddenly felt incredibly relaxed. Betty was warm against him, and it was like her body fit perfectly against his own, like two puzzle pieces. Peter was forgetting about the cramping in his stomach. He inhaled deeply, and was surprised at the scent he’d caught from Betty. It was soft, and tasted of roses.
Peter lulled into a sleep.
<
Peter awoke, cold, to another harsh rapping on his apartment’s door.
Groggily, he saw the sun was setting through his blinds now. How long was I asleep?
Still another sharp rapping at his door.
No spider-sense… But he didn’t hear Mayday either. Peter was the only one on his bed too…and that disappointed him a little more than he expected. Both of the girls in his bedroom were gone.
The knocking on his door only got louder.
“Hold your horses!” Peter shouted, wiping the crust from his eyes, and feeling his stomach still a bit cramped. “Randy, man, you really gotta make yourself an extra set of keys so—”
Again, it was not Randy Robertson on the other side. I really have to start using the peephole…
Angela Yin was standing there. Her arms were crossed along her chest. She wore a tight black beanie that kept her stark black hair straight against her cheeks and jawbone. Her lips were puckered. Not in the good way.
“Hi.”
“Uh, hi.” Peter ran a hand through his sweaty hair.
“I need a favor,” Angie said simply. She didn’t move her posture.
Peter was feeling the sickness coming on strong again. “Angela…this wouldn’t have anything to do with a man in red and blue pajamas? And a gator that walks on two legs?”
Angie smirked. “I knew he’d talk to you. You have to tell me where I can find him. I know where the Lizard is hiding!”
“Hiding?” Peter shook his head. “No, Code: Blue helped Spidey capture Scaley McGee last night.*”
(*- right before they tried to capture you last ish, Spidey! – Bryan can’t even capture the flag)
Angie scoffed, “Don’t you read the paper?” She pulled a rumpled copy of the Daily Bugle from a little pocket on the backpack she wore. She held it up for him.
The headline read: ‘SPIDER-MAN HELPS LIZARD ESCAPE AUTHORITIES!’ Underneath the words were the photos that Peter had let Angie take the night before.
Peter brought his hand to his brow. “Gimme a break…”
Angie put the newspaper back in her pack. She nodded. “So, yeah. I’m gonna need you to tell Spidey to meet me somewhere. Or better yet, why don’t you just give him my cell number—”
Peter raised his arms. “Spidey’s phonebook is big enough. Just tell me where he can find the Lizard, and I’ll tell—”
“Yeah right!” Angie yelled. “So you can take my photos! Pfft! I don’t think so!”
Peter felt the nausea rise up in his stomach. He groaned and clutched it. Angela peered at him curiously.
“Sheesh, Parker,” Angie said, “You look like you had a rough night. Bad seafood?”
Peter controlled himself, and thought about his situation for a second. I still don’t know where Betty and Mayday went off to…and I’m sick as a dog. I’ve still got a few loose ends to catch up on, what with the Lizard, the Foolkiller, the Ghost and the Rose Goblin all out free…and who knows what kind of trouble Eugene is into. But I can’t leave.
“I’m sorry, Angela.” Peter made a move to shut the door. “I can’t help y—”
“Pete?” A familiar voice rang from his apartment. “Who’re you talking to?”
Peter looked over his shoulder, and saw a familiar smiling face. Randy Robertson peeked his head around the door. Peter couldn’t stop Randy from opening the door wider.
“Hello!” Randy waved at Angela, though he was only wearing his boxers and a moth-bitten Run DMC t-shirt. Then, his eyes darted toward Peter. He whispered, “Caliente.”
Peter groaned again, rolled his eyes. “Randy, this is Angela Yin. We…were contemporaries at the Daily Bugle.”
Angie reluctantly shook Randy’s hand. “Nice!” Randy said, “My dad is your boss.”
Angie nodded slowly. “Yep…and you’re that Randy Robertson.”
Randy grinned. “I hope I didn’t walk in on anything…”
Peter shook his head quickly. “No! I was just telling—”
Angie interrupted, “I was here talking to Parker about a matter of life or death. And he doesn’t seem to be very interested.”
Randy frowned and looked back at Peter. “Really? The great humanitarian? Samaritan number one? Spider-Man’s best pal?” He slapped Peter’s back, and Peter tried not to spew. Randy continued, “If you gotta go, you gotta go, Pete.”
Peter again shook his head. “No, I don’t know where Mayday is—”
“She’s out with Betty,” Randy said. “They were up when I got back. You were still sacked out in your room. I went to crash, and Betty told me she’d probably take Mayday out so she didn’t wake you up. She told me about how you ditched her last night too.” Then, Randy leaned in closer to whisper, “And now I know why…”
Peter grunted again. Randy still continued.
“So you gotta do what you gotta do, Pete. I can take care of your baby when Betty gets back,” with a nudge, he added, “and I’ll tell her you’re out ‘grocery shopping’.” He looked back at Angie with a smile.
Peter said, “Randy it’s not like that. You know—”
“Stop.” Angie interjected again. “Time. Losing it. Put on shoes and take me to Spidey.”
“Suuuure.” Randy clicked his tongue. “Spidey. Right. You kids have fun with that.”
Peter shoved his nosy roommate back into the apartment. With a quick glance back at Angela he said, “Look, just meet Spidey on the roof of the Bugle in twenty, okay?”
Angela suddenly had a wide, bright smile on her face. Peter never thought he’d get one of those. She said, “Okay! Thanks, Parker! I owe you one!” She was practically skipping down the hallway.
Peter grumbled an inaudible response, but before he shut the door, Angela heard Randy Robertson shout:
“Playas gotta play!”
<
“Thanks, Casanova.” Peter sighed.
“Man, if I were you, Pete, and I had your luck with the ladies, I’d totally make me babysit my daughter all the time too. Know what I mean?”
Peter wanted to laugh but felt his stomach lurch.
“The spew handle is in there!” Randy pointed to the bathroom as he walked past it.
Before Randy could get back to his room, Peter called, “When was the last time you talked to your dad?”
Randy visibly stiffened, then turned back around to look at Peter. “Huh?”
“Word on the street is, Randy Robertson doesn’t talk to his parents.”
“I talked to my mom just this morn—hey!” Randy raised an eyebrow. “Did you see my dad last night? At whatever thing you were at with Betty?”
“That information is irrelevant to the question posed to you, Randall.” Peter smirked. “I remain waiting for an answer.”
Randy held up a finger. “One, do not call me ‘Randall’. And two, why the Spanish inquisition? I, of course, didn’t expect it.”
“You’re laughing this off.” Peter frowned. “But I know how important it is to have a father figure in life, Randy. You don’t know how lucky you are that it’s Robbie. I didn’t give you shelter here so you could go off not talking to your dad.”
Randy squinted, and Peter knew some buttons had been pushed. “I’m not ‘not talking’ to him. I’m just a busy guy, and I haven’t talked to him in a little while. It happens.” He was saying each word paced and carefully, like he was trying to handle his tone. “You know, maybe if I wasn’t baby-sitting while you’re out satisfying this hero obsession, maybe I’d have the energy to talk to him.” Then, Randy’s shoulders slumped.
“What?” Peter glared.
Randy raised his arms in defense. “Nothing.”
“Randy, if there’s something you want to tell me—”
“It’s nothing, man. Forget it. You gotta do what you gotta do.”
“Randy—”
“What have I been doing wrong?” Randy yelled. He stuck his hands out from his sides. “What? Tell me!” His jaw was agape and his eyes were wide. “I don’t ask any questions when I get put in the hospital*, I say nothing when Jill is murdered in our apartment** and I don’t even blink when you disappear, then reappear with a daughter***. You think I’m stupid, man? Do you ever get to class? What are you doing when you don’t come home some nights?”
(*-deep breaths…Randy was put in the ICU back in issue 20, **- Jill was murdered while baby-sitting May in issue 28, and ***- Peter left Randy out after scoring a sweet deal with Aladdin in issue 33- Bryan)
Peter didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t know at which question to begin.
“And I never asked what happened to your wife either, did I?” Randy said lowly.
Now Peter said, “And what does that mean?”
Randy shook his head. “We all have secrets, Pete. Respect mine. Please. It’s a courtesy I give you. One I don’t think you’d get with anyone else.”
Peter sighed. “Randy I want to be honest with you, really—”
“Stop,” Randy said. “I am going to bed. I have been awake for almost twenty-four hours, serving drinks to drunks. Any crazy relationship talk must be saved for the morning…and yes, you are the first man to whom I have ever said those last ten words in that particular order.”
Peter smirked, despite himself, and this weird thing that had just transpired between the two of them. “You should talk to your dad.”
Randy looked over his shoulder just before he shut the door to his room. “You’re late.” He held up his hand…with the middle and ring fingers folded against his palm, with his thumb, index and pinky sticking up.
The door shut.
<
Barty’s grunts were clearly echoing throughout the tunnel. And finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He just had to put the damn thing down. So he did. The crate slammed on the concrete.
“Quit playin’!” That was Reggie.
“No, man,” Barty said, sitting down on the crate. “I gotta take a break. We’ve been at this all day. I don’t care how much he’s payin’ us. My arms’re killin’ me.”
“Don’t make so damn much noise, fool.” Reggie put down his crates. He was carrying two, both heavier than Barty’s, one on each shoulder. But then again, Reggie was born with super-strength and super-endurance. So, he could kiss Barty’s ass.
Reggie pulled out a pack of cigarettes and handed it to Barty. “We don’t need to attract any worse attention than we already got.”
Barty lit a cigarette, returned the pack to its owner. When he exhaled, smoke smoothly billowed from the gills on the sides of his neck. “We been workin’ for weeks movin’ this stuff…these damn boxes. What the hell is in here anyway?” He slammed his ankles against the wooden seat he enjoyed.
Reggie shrugged, exhaled his own smoke. “Eduardo told me it was body parts.”
Barty laughed, sucking on the cigarette again. “Eduardo is a dumbass. We’d smell it if it was that.” Then, after scratching his chin, he said, “What if its drugs, man?”
Reggie frowned at Barty’s tone. Barty left the cigarette in his lips, but waved his hands in defense.
“No, no, man. Think about it. What if it’s some really smooth stuff? It could be anything—weed, angel dust, MGH, unity, rock…”
Reggie rolled his eyes. “Quit playin’. You gotta be crazy if you wanna mess with this guy. He’s already givin’ me enough money, man. I ain’t wantin’ to deal with him no more than I gotta.”
Barty sighed. “Just skimmin’ a little off the top. It ain’t gonna hurt, and he ain’t gonna notice.”
Reggie threw his cigarette down on the concrete and stepped on it. “This guy would notice. You’re stupid if you don’t think so.” He didn’t give Barty the chance to respond. “Now pick up your box and let’s get movin’. We’re lagging behind the others pretty far now…” The crates were back on Reggie’s shoulder with a swift kneel and a grunt.
Barty pursed his lips and mimicked Reggie’s execution of his cigarette. He wasn’t looking forward to the heavy lifting. These tunnels were only lit by Morlock torches now anyway. Barty just knew he’d be one to fall in the dimness and likely die, crushed to death by massive splinters from the bulky thing he carried. Or, more likely, he’d crush his ankle. What hospital was going to treat a mutant…one without insurance? And he didn’t know any Morlocks who were healers. He tried to think of some as he followed Reggie along the subway tracks at their feet. Barty reasoned if he kept just outside the rail, he’d be walking on level concrete, safe and sound. It wouldn’t be long before they were back upworld on the Middle East Side…home sweet Mutant Town.
“You hear that?” Reggie interrupted Barty’s thinking.
Barty answered with a huff. “No.”
Reggie said, “I heard something.” He turned around and walked backward, the crates still balanced well on his shoulders. “I coulda swore I did.”
Barty wheezed as he kept up the pace, “Oh no, it’s the boss. He caught us smoking a cig and now he’s gonna kill us!”
Reggie smirked. “You’re a smarta-ah-ahhhh!”
Then Reggie hit the concrete, smacking his chin in between the rails. Wooden shards splattered up from the ground as the crates were crushed. They spilled their contents all over the dimly lit tunnel. It scared Barty so much, his crate followed soon after.
But Barty wasn’t looking at the cargo. Reggie’s torso was tightly caught between a pair of giant jaws, with gleaming, cuspated rows of teeth It had to be an alligator…but it wasn’t. This thing had arms, and legs that brought him to over seven feet tall. A high fin grew down its spine. It was some kind of lizard-man-monster and it was wrestling around on the concrete in front of Barty, eating one of his best friends. Reggie, with his super-strength, tried to pry at the jaws gnawing his abdomen, but it was too much.
All Barty wanted to do was run.
Then he noticed the cargo, spilled like guts from a cadaver. Guns—it was an absolute paradise of guns. One of Reggie’s crates had been carrying clips of ammunition.
Barty grabbed the nearest gun to him (a common 9mm) then picked up the nearest clip that he recognized would fit. Lock and load—as easy as the first time he did it back in high school.
He got that filthy Lizard beast in his sights. Arm outstretched, he wasn’t about to hesitate on the trigger--
“Hey! Me no likey the boom sticks!”
—when a glob of some kind of glue smacked against his gun, then jerked it from his hand with a light tug.
Barty watched Spider-Man collide with the Lizard. With a scoop, the Lizard was wrenched from the concrete, dropping Reggie from his jaws. Spider-Man sent the Lizard head-first into the closest brick wall, clinging nicely to the wall above the impact.
It was still dim, but Barty was watching everything, even as he ran over to Reggie, who was writhing on the ground.
“What…the hell…was that?” Reggie was clutching his stomach, and there was blood pouring freely through his sweatshirt, and drenching his arms.
“I don’t know, man.” Barty helped him to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
He looked back at Spider-Man and that monster…wait—didn’t Barty remember hearing about some kind of Lizard-man on the news last night? Was that what this thing was? Spider-Man wasn’t giving any answers. The wall-crawler was busy webbing up the downed Lizard.
Reggie groaned as Barty clutched him, and started to pull him in the opposite direction.
There was a bright flash of light to Barty’s side and he looked that way. There was a girl standing there with a camera.
“Where did you come from?” Barty quipped.
Angela Yin dropped her camera, letting it hang at her neck. She frowned at him. “You two should get out of here.”
Reggie was coughing up blood, but he tried to speak. “No—hack!—we can’t go back! He’ll—huuaack!—kill us! I swear he’ll kill us!”
Barty looked back down at the guns, spread all about their feet. His throat started to get heavy. He knew Reggie was right.
Angela squinted. “Who’s going to kill you? The man you’re moving these guns for?”
Reggie nodded quickly. “Yeah, we all got to—huuuah!—get out of here. I know he’s already on his way. You don’t interrupt his business and—hhhrrrkk—get away with it.”
Angela was about to inquire more, but she was interrupted by--
“Hell-ooooo! Miss Yin! Why are you not making with the evacuation like bees make with the sweet, sweet honey?”
Spider-Man stepped back, examining the Lizard wearily. He had webbed the creature entirely from snout to the tip of his tail. The cocooned Lizard was convulsing and struggling all over the rubble and concrete, and Spidey didn’t know how long this webbing was going to hold him.
Spidey looked over his shoulder at Angela. Then, he saw the guns scattered across the subway tracks.
He asked, “Is this where the NRA does its recycling?”
Angela called, “This was a smuggling route, Spidey! I think we’ve spoiled someone’s party!” Strangely, she was smiling.
SPIDER-SENSE~!
There was a soft, wet ripping noise, followed by the deafening roar. The Lizard was free.
Spidey sprang into the air, tucking his feet under him, flipping backward and pouncing his feet on the Lizard’s snout. Peter’s muscles were still aching and his stomach wrenched, but if he could end this fast, then he could go back to bed. Chin-first, the Lizard hit the subway tracks. The beast was eager for a fight. He propelled himself upward as soon as he hit the ground, and had tackled Spider-Man just as the hero himself touched down.
The Lizard grasped Spidey at his shoulders, lunging for his throat, but the web-slinger pulled the Lizard’s jaws apart, barely keeping the jaws from snapping shut.
Angela Yin snapped a few more photos.
Then she noticed that Barty and Reggie had hobbled together down the opposite direction of the tunnel…like they didn’t want to go back the way they came. Or maybe like something was coming for them from that way. Angela bit her lip. She didn’t like that at all. But she needed just a few more pictures, then she could get Spidey out of here.
What did she really think Spidey could accomplish anyway? What did Spidey think he could accomplish for that matter? Angela shook her head, waving the thoughts from her mind. She’d waited for almost an hour for Spider-Man atop the Daily Bugle, and Spidey was unapologetic to say the least. Obnoxious would be a nice way of putting it.
But Angela had gotten him to carry her (“Wheeee!”) to the Middle East Side, or District X, or Mutant Town, whatever. She’d gotten some tips from friends she knew from high school—those who had to retreat to a safer part of the city after puberty kicked in.
It didn’t take long for them to stumble upon the Lizard viciously attacking Reggie. It was like Spider-Man had some kind of sixth sense that lead them to the Lizard…Angela clicked a pic.
Spider-Man pushed up with his feet against the Lizard’s chest. The monster was flung snout over talons, sliding across the subway tracks. Spidey looked back at Angela, making sure to keep track of where she was at all times.
He looked at the Lizard, who was shaking off the attack. Spidey had to shake off his own nausea before continuing. But it seemed to keep coming in waves. Peter wasn’t sure how much longer he could go like this. He said, “Doc, you gotta listen to me. You can beat this thing. You have before—”
SPIDER-SENSE-!
The Lizard pounced. Spider-Man was barely able to jump in time, and the Lizard once again sailed under him. Peter grimaced, clutched his cramping belly. It seemed there was no reasoning with Doctor Connors. Was there ever? Peter hated to admit it, but every time he tried to talk the Lizard down, Peter would just barely dodge another attack.
But the Doc isn’t a monster… Peter was obviously trying to convince himself.
Spider-Man’s feet hit the ground again, but this time his hand shot out and grasped the Lizard’s tail. Pulling with every ounce of strength he could muster, Spidey whipped the Lizard back over his shoulder. The Lizard sailed through the air and crashed against the subway tracks, sending cracks and bits of debris into the dim torchlight.
Spidey didn’t let go of the tail. His biceps were throbbing with ache, but he gripped harder, getting ready for a second spin, and hoping that his sickness didn’t make him vomit from the dizziness.
But the Lizard braced himself. And opened his jaws wide. Peter expected the Lizard to leap at him, teeth snapping. The Lizard didn’t do that.
Slimy, sharp teeth snapped to a shut around the Lizard’s own tail. In a gush of blood and a resonance of ripping muscle, the Lizard bit right through it.
Spider-Man tasted bitter fluid in the back of his mouth, and it almost erupted all over the inside of his mask. He looked down at the limp, thick, bloody stump that was still clasped in his fingers. Remembering to take a breath, he dropped it. But it wasn’t enough; his stomach was still doing somersaults. Lifting up his mask, Peter vomited all over the concrete in front of him. Spidey could have sworn he saw the tail writhe a little on the ground, in a shallow pool of blood.
“Ewww…” Angela Yin kept taking pictures.
The Lizard in the next second, erupted a harsh wail—one that sailed through the tunnels like a ghost, cold and inhuman.
“Doc?” Spidey gasped.
SPIDER-SENSE~!
With blood still oozing from the half-limb at his tailbone, the Lizard again leapt at Spider-Man. This time, Spider-Man did not jump quickly enough. The Lizard’s weight crushed him against the ground, talons wrapped at his neck. Spidey quickly connected with a punch to the Lizard’s snout.
“This is hurting me as much as it hurts you, doc.” Spidey flipped the Lizard over, pinning the monster himself. Then, he connected with more punches. “I’m kidding! After all, you did just cannibalize yourself.” In the euphoria of a post-vomit, his stomach was still.
After a while longer, not letting up his assault against the tough leathery face, Spidey realized he couldn’t hear the Lizard’s growling anymore. It had been replaced by another noise. One that Spidey didn’t need a spider-sense to warn him about.
Spider-Man was on his feet, and looking for Angela Yin.
Angela had heard the sound. That’s why she was walking curiously toward the other side of the tunnel, her camera in hand.
“What…is…that?” Angela cocked her head sideways a little. She tried to peer into the darkness a bit more, but she didn’t want to get too close.
“Stop! In the name of love!” Spidey threw up his hand toward Angela.
Angela wasn’t looking. Then something came out of the darkness. They were small, round. They bounced a little bit on the concrete in between the subway tracks, making heavy noises against it, showing off their weight. They looked like tiny little pumpkins.
Angela’s eyes widened. She was looking for Spider-Man now.
A sticky, spaghetti-looking mess exploded against her waist, and she was jerked forward in a motion that she hoped wouldn’t break her neck, just before flame and smoke exploded against her back, releasing concrete debris and dust across the tunnel.
Angela collided with Spider-Man.
Angela smiled at him. “You have great timing.”
Spidey sighed, “Kid, it’s been real. It’s been fun. But it hasn’t been real fun. You gotta get outta here. The guy after us now isn’t nearly as reasonable as Godzilla, Jr. over there.” Spidey thumbed at the Lizard who cowered back a little bit, trying to wrap his mind around the explosion.
The strange noise had returned, but smoke covered the near distance, and the torchlight didn’t really do much to help anything.
Then came a cackle as loud as the rockets.
The Hobgoblin gently hovered into view, just a few feet away. His eyes glowed green.
“Oh, how did I know it was you?” the Hobgoblin snapped.
“Didn’t you get my voice mail?” Spider-Man quickly pushed Angela Yin behind him. “Or are you one of those people who only check when their mailbox is full?”
The Hobgoblin was shaking with anger. Glowing eyes scanned the spill of weapons in front of him.
“Already interfering with my plans! Every single time! I can’t get rid of you!” the Hobgoblin was now screaming. “I can’t let you! I won’t let you or the police or Kronas take what’s mine! You hear me! I’ll die before I let you take what I’ve earned!”
Spider-Man knew enough to ignore the ego. He turned to Angela. “Sounds like a murderous rampage to me, Anj.” He put both his hands on her shoulders. “Please. Go.”
Angela bit her lip, and looked up at him. Peter knew she couldn’t see through his mask, but she was looking right into his eyes. She said, “Okay. You better not die.”
Spidey shrugged and turned around. “I make a habit out of not dying. I think that’s why Hobby’s so upset with me.”
SPIDER-SENSE~!
The Lizard—Peter kicked himself for forgetting about him for those precious seconds—sailed over Spider-Man’s head. Spidey instinctively pushed Angela down a bit, but didn’t need to. The Lizard had a whole new target.
Landing right in front of the Hobgoblin, the Lizard howled once more through the sewer.
Hobgoblin, still balanced precariously on his glider, flinched just a little. Then, the smile returned to his masked face. “Now where did you come from? I thought I was the only monster down here.”
The Lizard snapped his jaws, then leapt at the Hobgoblin. But the goblin glider was faster. Smoothly, the Hobgoblin avoided the Lizard, keeping balance on the glider. He was a bit higher in the air, when he dropped more pumpkin-bombs from a pouch along his waist.
But the Lizard, as though understanding the danger, deftly rolled away, before more concrete and debris and smoke erupted with thunder. The smoke clouded the view, and now there was water leaking from various fractures in the concrete walls.
Spider-Man looked back at Angela. But Angela was gone. He felt his stomach starting to cramp up on him again. He felt a familiar dizziness. Oh no. Where did Angela get off to? Hopefully she’s on her way to the surface…I’ve got to make sure the Hobgoblin doesn’t take Doc Connors with him off the deep end.
“Spider-Man!” the Hobgoblin yelled. “The Lizard is one of your friends now, is he? No matter! I’ll kill him just the same as I will you!”
The Lizard leapt at the Hobgoblin again, but again, the Hobgoblin was too fast. But the Hobgoblin retreated to the ceiling of the sewer, which Spidey imagined was actually the underside of a street on the Middle East Side. The Hobgoblin unleashed a flash of electricity from his gloves, but it seemed to just be absorbed by the Lizard’s thick hide.
Spider-Man took advantage of the distraction. He thwip!ed a web-line to a wing of the Hobgoblin’s glider and pulled as hard as he could. The Hobgoblin’s grin faded as he felt himself pulled off balance.
“No!” he shouted, falling hard on his tailbone against the flooded concrete. His glider went spinning hard into the wall. But it was a strong machine, and didn’t even dent. It settled to the ground, calmly, without someone to power it.
The Hobgoblin reached for it from the other side of the sewer, as though he could actually get to it. But the back of his head smacked concrete when the Lizard pounced on his chest. Jaws snapping, the Lizard let out a victorious wail before turning his teeth downward to the Hobgoblin’s neck.
Webbing wired the Lizard’s jaws shut in the next instant. Then, with a sharp yank, Spider-Man pulled the Lizard head-over-heels toward him. Even though he bounced and crashed across the damp pavement, the Lizard was back up quickly, shaking off the attack and the webbing. The Hobgoblin was up too.
SPIDER-SENSE!
From two sides! Spider-Man realized. The Hobgoblin was about to reach his glider. The Lizard was bounding toward his jugular.
“Not so fast, Hob-knob!” Spider-Man shouted. He threw more webbing, this time at the glider. He pulled the heavy weapon just out of the Hobgoblin’s stride.
“Damn!” the Hobgoblin screamed.
Not bothering to stop his momentum, Spider-Man carried through with his swinging arc, bringing the goblin glider to meet with an airborne Lizard. The metal smacked against the Lizard’s thick skull with a dull sound. The Lizard’s body hit the concrete with much the same noise. The glider skidded to another halt on the other side of the tunnel from the Hobgoblin.
Spidey turned from the Lizard to the Hobgoblin. I gotta stay ahead of them both… But a the little dizziness he’d gotten from swinging the glider didn’t fade, and in fact, got worse. Spidey had to brace his hands on his knees.
The Lizard was still down, but the Hobgoblin was--
SPIDER-SENSE~!
—running up to kick him in the face.
Peter could only stumble backward a bit, and not far enough. The Hobgoblin connected with a fierce kick to his jaw.
“You won’t get these or any of my other toys I’ve got hidden down here…it’s the last of my depots anyway.” Hobgoblin reached into the pouch along his side, and ran his other hand along the inside of his coat.
Like overripe apples, they fell and rolled dully along the tunnel floor toward Spider-Man. They were shaped like pumpkins, but up close like this, Peter could admire the circuitry and craftsmanship of--
SPIDER-SENSE~!
Peter tried to roll backward away from the oncoming bombs. There had to be as many as twenty, thirty dropping out of the Hobgoblin’s person. The goblin glider suddenly whipped through air toward the Hobgoblin, like iron filings toward a magnet. The Hobgoblin jumped, and it was under his feet.
He snarled, “Might as well spare no expense, Spider-Man.”
“Don’t do it! The street’ll come down on both our heads, Hobby!” Spider-Man yelled.
The Hobgoblin puckered his lips and gasped, “Oh no!” Then his face became serious, and his mouth curled. “Now, no one can get their hands on my guns. Ha! You’ll be lucky if someone gets their hands on your dead body after this place goes! Goodbye!”
The goblin glider rocketed down the tunnel and away with a speed Peter had never seen out of it before. But Peter was still looking at the blinking pumpkins that littered his feet. His spider-sense was absolutely stinging his scalp. Peter wasn’t even thinking about food poisoning.
He was just thinking about how he needed to survive this. He owed May a life with a father, something he never got. He owed Betty for her understanding. He owed Randy the truth. His breathing had picked up, his heart was pounding in his chest…
But all he saw to help him get out of this mess, was an empty tunnel…guns that he didn’t know how to load or even hold correctly in his hands…and a giant Lizard.
The pumpkins exploded.
NEXT ISSUE: Whaaaat?! The Foolkiller’s identity…revealed?!?!
“Oh no!” Peter leapt to May’s crib. He scooped her into his arms. “You poor baby, how long have you been screaming?”
Peter was happy that nausea hadn’t overcome him just yet. He rocked May gently back and forth on his hip. His eyes still felt heavy, and his stomach was still cramped a little bit.
The Lizard did something to me last night…I feel awful. I don’t know what’s going on with Doctor Connors, but the Lizard had a new look…and about a spoonful of intelligence. Sometimes he’s been at least coherent…maybe he could have at least gloated about how many hours I had left to live…no, if this poison was fatal, I’d have been dead before I picked up Mayday from Aunt May’s last night. I hope I feel better soon, ‘cause I still have to call Betty to apologize for ditching out on her…*
(*-I guess last ish the Lizard made a better dance partner than Betty, huh, Pete?- Bryan doesn’t dance)
He had just reached the kitchen when dizziness slapped him. Peter grasped the counter, with the hand that wasn’t gripping May to his hip, and paused for a deep breath. He set May up on the counter close to the fridge, holding her there with one hand. With the other hand, he reached into the fridge for the apple juice, then proceeded to fix May a cup of Please-Have-Mercy-On-Your-Father.
May nursed the cup’s spout, and was content.
Peter let his shoulders relax. Ahhh…silence. As much as I’ve tried, I haven’t gotten any sleep. These cramps and chills have made that impossible. And of course, intense vomiting doesn’t help either…
With another few jumps, Peter was back in his bedroom, putting May into her crib. He tossed a few of her stuffed animals into the crib and thought, I gotta lay down, baby. You gotta let papa rest. Randy’s obviously not home, otherwise May’s screaming, or even the aforementioned intense vomiting, would’ve probably woken him up. He’ll be back soon, since he thinks I’ve got class today…well, I do have a class today, but there’s no way I’m getting to it feeling like this…
As soon as Peter let himself fall onto the bed, nausea washed over him. “Urrrrhhhhh…” Rolling, Peter fell off the bed. Pushing himself off his chest, he clamored for the bathroom. Reaching it, he unloaded his gut into the toilet like there was a garden hose in his esophagus. Peter couldn’t believe he had that much left in him.
It was at this point, he heard a loud rapping noise at his door.
Peter slumped back in the bathroom, wiped at his lips. “Randy forgot his keys again.” As he stood, Peter’s mind briefly flashed: Costumes and webshooters—locked up? Check!
He reached the door expecting to see a haggard Randy Robertson. Turning the handle, Peter wondered when Randy worked again. Maybe Peter could convince Randy to look after May while Peter slept off this poison…
The door opened and Peter did not see Randy Robertson.
“Betty!” Peter’s stomach cramped again.
“Mister Parker—” Betty had a snarl on her face that seemed to suck the light out of the air around her. Peter was ready to duck, when Betty suddenly stopped. Her snarl eased. Her brow furled and she got close to him.
Betty smacked her palm onto Peter’s forehead. Then she put her ear to Peter’s chest.
“Peter, you’re burning up!” Betty analyzed with no hint of a snarl. “You look terrible!”
Peter was about to reply when Betty grabbed his wrist, pushed against him, forcing them both back into his apartment. She didn’t stop. She pulled Peter past his kitchen, narrowly around those sharp corners, and into his bedroom. There, she pushed him onto his bed.
“You should’ve called me and told me you were sick!” Betty sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “You shouldn’t be sick and taking care of your baby at the same time.”
Peter sat up on the bed. “I’m fine, and I was going to call—”
“You had the shrimp cocktails, didn’t you?” Betty interrupted.
“Huh?” Peter’s eyebrows raised.
“The shrimp cocktails? At the party last night? They were bad,” Betty said, smirking at him. “Ben Urich is all kinds of sick, just like you.”
Peter threw himself backward on his pillow, and brought his hands to his temples. He’d eaten a half dozen of those delicious little shrimp cocktails. He’d stood right next to Ben Urich and they’d devoured those crustacean criminals like lumber in a wood chipper. The Lizard hadn’t poisoned him at all…Oh, man—is ‘stupid’ a strong enough word for how I feel right now? Food poisoning! No kidding!
“So move over.” Betty pushed Peter closer to the center of the bed. Peter was a bit surprised, but didn’t stop her. “No wonder you left so quickly. I bet you were hugging the toilet all night, you poor thing.” She snuggled into the bed, despite the fact she was wearing a nice business skirt, blazer and heels. She pulled Peter tight against her chest.
“Mmm…” Peter muttered, but snuggled closer. “This is so much better than a thermometer.”
“You’re lucky,” Betty said simply. “You ditched me last night, and now you smell like barf. How many other girls do you know who would put up with that?” Her tone said she wasn’t really expecting an answer.
Peter suddenly felt incredibly relaxed. Betty was warm against him, and it was like her body fit perfectly against his own, like two puzzle pieces. Peter was forgetting about the cramping in his stomach. He inhaled deeply, and was surprised at the scent he’d caught from Betty. It was soft, and tasted of roses.
Peter lulled into a sleep.
<
Peter awoke, cold, to another harsh rapping on his apartment’s door.
Groggily, he saw the sun was setting through his blinds now. How long was I asleep?
Still another sharp rapping at his door.
No spider-sense… But he didn’t hear Mayday either. Peter was the only one on his bed too…and that disappointed him a little more than he expected. Both of the girls in his bedroom were gone.
The knocking on his door only got louder.
“Hold your horses!” Peter shouted, wiping the crust from his eyes, and feeling his stomach still a bit cramped. “Randy, man, you really gotta make yourself an extra set of keys so—”
Again, it was not Randy Robertson on the other side. I really have to start using the peephole…
Angela Yin was standing there. Her arms were crossed along her chest. She wore a tight black beanie that kept her stark black hair straight against her cheeks and jawbone. Her lips were puckered. Not in the good way.
“Hi.”
“Uh, hi.” Peter ran a hand through his sweaty hair.
“I need a favor,” Angie said simply. She didn’t move her posture.
Peter was feeling the sickness coming on strong again. “Angela…this wouldn’t have anything to do with a man in red and blue pajamas? And a gator that walks on two legs?”
Angie smirked. “I knew he’d talk to you. You have to tell me where I can find him. I know where the Lizard is hiding!”
“Hiding?” Peter shook his head. “No, Code: Blue helped Spidey capture Scaley McGee last night.*”
(*- right before they tried to capture you last ish, Spidey! – Bryan can’t even capture the flag)
Angie scoffed, “Don’t you read the paper?” She pulled a rumpled copy of the Daily Bugle from a little pocket on the backpack she wore. She held it up for him.
The headline read: ‘SPIDER-MAN HELPS LIZARD ESCAPE AUTHORITIES!’ Underneath the words were the photos that Peter had let Angie take the night before.
Peter brought his hand to his brow. “Gimme a break…”
Angie put the newspaper back in her pack. She nodded. “So, yeah. I’m gonna need you to tell Spidey to meet me somewhere. Or better yet, why don’t you just give him my cell number—”
Peter raised his arms. “Spidey’s phonebook is big enough. Just tell me where he can find the Lizard, and I’ll tell—”
“Yeah right!” Angie yelled. “So you can take my photos! Pfft! I don’t think so!”
Peter felt the nausea rise up in his stomach. He groaned and clutched it. Angela peered at him curiously.
“Sheesh, Parker,” Angie said, “You look like you had a rough night. Bad seafood?”
Peter controlled himself, and thought about his situation for a second. I still don’t know where Betty and Mayday went off to…and I’m sick as a dog. I’ve still got a few loose ends to catch up on, what with the Lizard, the Foolkiller, the Ghost and the Rose Goblin all out free…and who knows what kind of trouble Eugene is into. But I can’t leave.
“I’m sorry, Angela.” Peter made a move to shut the door. “I can’t help y—”
“Pete?” A familiar voice rang from his apartment. “Who’re you talking to?”
Peter looked over his shoulder, and saw a familiar smiling face. Randy Robertson peeked his head around the door. Peter couldn’t stop Randy from opening the door wider.
“Hello!” Randy waved at Angela, though he was only wearing his boxers and a moth-bitten Run DMC t-shirt. Then, his eyes darted toward Peter. He whispered, “Caliente.”
Peter groaned again, rolled his eyes. “Randy, this is Angela Yin. We…were contemporaries at the Daily Bugle.”
Angie reluctantly shook Randy’s hand. “Nice!” Randy said, “My dad is your boss.”
Angie nodded slowly. “Yep…and you’re that Randy Robertson.”
Randy grinned. “I hope I didn’t walk in on anything…”
Peter shook his head quickly. “No! I was just telling—”
Angie interrupted, “I was here talking to Parker about a matter of life or death. And he doesn’t seem to be very interested.”
Randy frowned and looked back at Peter. “Really? The great humanitarian? Samaritan number one? Spider-Man’s best pal?” He slapped Peter’s back, and Peter tried not to spew. Randy continued, “If you gotta go, you gotta go, Pete.”
Peter again shook his head. “No, I don’t know where Mayday is—”
“She’s out with Betty,” Randy said. “They were up when I got back. You were still sacked out in your room. I went to crash, and Betty told me she’d probably take Mayday out so she didn’t wake you up. She told me about how you ditched her last night too.” Then, Randy leaned in closer to whisper, “And now I know why…”
Peter grunted again. Randy still continued.
“So you gotta do what you gotta do, Pete. I can take care of your baby when Betty gets back,” with a nudge, he added, “and I’ll tell her you’re out ‘grocery shopping’.” He looked back at Angie with a smile.
Peter said, “Randy it’s not like that. You know—”
“Stop.” Angie interjected again. “Time. Losing it. Put on shoes and take me to Spidey.”
“Suuuure.” Randy clicked his tongue. “Spidey. Right. You kids have fun with that.”
Peter shoved his nosy roommate back into the apartment. With a quick glance back at Angela he said, “Look, just meet Spidey on the roof of the Bugle in twenty, okay?”
Angela suddenly had a wide, bright smile on her face. Peter never thought he’d get one of those. She said, “Okay! Thanks, Parker! I owe you one!” She was practically skipping down the hallway.
Peter grumbled an inaudible response, but before he shut the door, Angela heard Randy Robertson shout:
“Playas gotta play!”
<
“Thanks, Casanova.” Peter sighed.
“Man, if I were you, Pete, and I had your luck with the ladies, I’d totally make me babysit my daughter all the time too. Know what I mean?”
Peter wanted to laugh but felt his stomach lurch.
“The spew handle is in there!” Randy pointed to the bathroom as he walked past it.
Before Randy could get back to his room, Peter called, “When was the last time you talked to your dad?”
Randy visibly stiffened, then turned back around to look at Peter. “Huh?”
“Word on the street is, Randy Robertson doesn’t talk to his parents.”
“I talked to my mom just this morn—hey!” Randy raised an eyebrow. “Did you see my dad last night? At whatever thing you were at with Betty?”
“That information is irrelevant to the question posed to you, Randall.” Peter smirked. “I remain waiting for an answer.”
Randy held up a finger. “One, do not call me ‘Randall’. And two, why the Spanish inquisition? I, of course, didn’t expect it.”
“You’re laughing this off.” Peter frowned. “But I know how important it is to have a father figure in life, Randy. You don’t know how lucky you are that it’s Robbie. I didn’t give you shelter here so you could go off not talking to your dad.”
Randy squinted, and Peter knew some buttons had been pushed. “I’m not ‘not talking’ to him. I’m just a busy guy, and I haven’t talked to him in a little while. It happens.” He was saying each word paced and carefully, like he was trying to handle his tone. “You know, maybe if I wasn’t baby-sitting while you’re out satisfying this hero obsession, maybe I’d have the energy to talk to him.” Then, Randy’s shoulders slumped.
“What?” Peter glared.
Randy raised his arms in defense. “Nothing.”
“Randy, if there’s something you want to tell me—”
“It’s nothing, man. Forget it. You gotta do what you gotta do.”
“Randy—”
“What have I been doing wrong?” Randy yelled. He stuck his hands out from his sides. “What? Tell me!” His jaw was agape and his eyes were wide. “I don’t ask any questions when I get put in the hospital*, I say nothing when Jill is murdered in our apartment** and I don’t even blink when you disappear, then reappear with a daughter***. You think I’m stupid, man? Do you ever get to class? What are you doing when you don’t come home some nights?”
(*-deep breaths…Randy was put in the ICU back in issue 20, **- Jill was murdered while baby-sitting May in issue 28, and ***- Peter left Randy out after scoring a sweet deal with Aladdin in issue 33- Bryan)
Peter didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t know at which question to begin.
“And I never asked what happened to your wife either, did I?” Randy said lowly.
Now Peter said, “And what does that mean?”
Randy shook his head. “We all have secrets, Pete. Respect mine. Please. It’s a courtesy I give you. One I don’t think you’d get with anyone else.”
Peter sighed. “Randy I want to be honest with you, really—”
“Stop,” Randy said. “I am going to bed. I have been awake for almost twenty-four hours, serving drinks to drunks. Any crazy relationship talk must be saved for the morning…and yes, you are the first man to whom I have ever said those last ten words in that particular order.”
Peter smirked, despite himself, and this weird thing that had just transpired between the two of them. “You should talk to your dad.”
Randy looked over his shoulder just before he shut the door to his room. “You’re late.” He held up his hand…with the middle and ring fingers folded against his palm, with his thumb, index and pinky sticking up.
The door shut.
<
Barty’s grunts were clearly echoing throughout the tunnel. And finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He just had to put the damn thing down. So he did. The crate slammed on the concrete.
“Quit playin’!” That was Reggie.
“No, man,” Barty said, sitting down on the crate. “I gotta take a break. We’ve been at this all day. I don’t care how much he’s payin’ us. My arms’re killin’ me.”
“Don’t make so damn much noise, fool.” Reggie put down his crates. He was carrying two, both heavier than Barty’s, one on each shoulder. But then again, Reggie was born with super-strength and super-endurance. So, he could kiss Barty’s ass.
Reggie pulled out a pack of cigarettes and handed it to Barty. “We don’t need to attract any worse attention than we already got.”
Barty lit a cigarette, returned the pack to its owner. When he exhaled, smoke smoothly billowed from the gills on the sides of his neck. “We been workin’ for weeks movin’ this stuff…these damn boxes. What the hell is in here anyway?” He slammed his ankles against the wooden seat he enjoyed.
Reggie shrugged, exhaled his own smoke. “Eduardo told me it was body parts.”
Barty laughed, sucking on the cigarette again. “Eduardo is a dumbass. We’d smell it if it was that.” Then, after scratching his chin, he said, “What if its drugs, man?”
Reggie frowned at Barty’s tone. Barty left the cigarette in his lips, but waved his hands in defense.
“No, no, man. Think about it. What if it’s some really smooth stuff? It could be anything—weed, angel dust, MGH, unity, rock…”
Reggie rolled his eyes. “Quit playin’. You gotta be crazy if you wanna mess with this guy. He’s already givin’ me enough money, man. I ain’t wantin’ to deal with him no more than I gotta.”
Barty sighed. “Just skimmin’ a little off the top. It ain’t gonna hurt, and he ain’t gonna notice.”
Reggie threw his cigarette down on the concrete and stepped on it. “This guy would notice. You’re stupid if you don’t think so.” He didn’t give Barty the chance to respond. “Now pick up your box and let’s get movin’. We’re lagging behind the others pretty far now…” The crates were back on Reggie’s shoulder with a swift kneel and a grunt.
Barty pursed his lips and mimicked Reggie’s execution of his cigarette. He wasn’t looking forward to the heavy lifting. These tunnels were only lit by Morlock torches now anyway. Barty just knew he’d be one to fall in the dimness and likely die, crushed to death by massive splinters from the bulky thing he carried. Or, more likely, he’d crush his ankle. What hospital was going to treat a mutant…one without insurance? And he didn’t know any Morlocks who were healers. He tried to think of some as he followed Reggie along the subway tracks at their feet. Barty reasoned if he kept just outside the rail, he’d be walking on level concrete, safe and sound. It wouldn’t be long before they were back upworld on the Middle East Side…home sweet Mutant Town.
“You hear that?” Reggie interrupted Barty’s thinking.
Barty answered with a huff. “No.”
Reggie said, “I heard something.” He turned around and walked backward, the crates still balanced well on his shoulders. “I coulda swore I did.”
Barty wheezed as he kept up the pace, “Oh no, it’s the boss. He caught us smoking a cig and now he’s gonna kill us!”
Reggie smirked. “You’re a smarta-ah-ahhhh!”
Then Reggie hit the concrete, smacking his chin in between the rails. Wooden shards splattered up from the ground as the crates were crushed. They spilled their contents all over the dimly lit tunnel. It scared Barty so much, his crate followed soon after.
But Barty wasn’t looking at the cargo. Reggie’s torso was tightly caught between a pair of giant jaws, with gleaming, cuspated rows of teeth It had to be an alligator…but it wasn’t. This thing had arms, and legs that brought him to over seven feet tall. A high fin grew down its spine. It was some kind of lizard-man-monster and it was wrestling around on the concrete in front of Barty, eating one of his best friends. Reggie, with his super-strength, tried to pry at the jaws gnawing his abdomen, but it was too much.
All Barty wanted to do was run.
Then he noticed the cargo, spilled like guts from a cadaver. Guns—it was an absolute paradise of guns. One of Reggie’s crates had been carrying clips of ammunition.
Barty grabbed the nearest gun to him (a common 9mm) then picked up the nearest clip that he recognized would fit. Lock and load—as easy as the first time he did it back in high school.
He got that filthy Lizard beast in his sights. Arm outstretched, he wasn’t about to hesitate on the trigger--
“Hey! Me no likey the boom sticks!”
—when a glob of some kind of glue smacked against his gun, then jerked it from his hand with a light tug.
Barty watched Spider-Man collide with the Lizard. With a scoop, the Lizard was wrenched from the concrete, dropping Reggie from his jaws. Spider-Man sent the Lizard head-first into the closest brick wall, clinging nicely to the wall above the impact.
It was still dim, but Barty was watching everything, even as he ran over to Reggie, who was writhing on the ground.
“What…the hell…was that?” Reggie was clutching his stomach, and there was blood pouring freely through his sweatshirt, and drenching his arms.
“I don’t know, man.” Barty helped him to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
He looked back at Spider-Man and that monster…wait—didn’t Barty remember hearing about some kind of Lizard-man on the news last night? Was that what this thing was? Spider-Man wasn’t giving any answers. The wall-crawler was busy webbing up the downed Lizard.
Reggie groaned as Barty clutched him, and started to pull him in the opposite direction.
There was a bright flash of light to Barty’s side and he looked that way. There was a girl standing there with a camera.
“Where did you come from?” Barty quipped.
Angela Yin dropped her camera, letting it hang at her neck. She frowned at him. “You two should get out of here.”
Reggie was coughing up blood, but he tried to speak. “No—hack!—we can’t go back! He’ll—huuaack!—kill us! I swear he’ll kill us!”
Barty looked back down at the guns, spread all about their feet. His throat started to get heavy. He knew Reggie was right.
Angela squinted. “Who’s going to kill you? The man you’re moving these guns for?”
Reggie nodded quickly. “Yeah, we all got to—huuuah!—get out of here. I know he’s already on his way. You don’t interrupt his business and—hhhrrrkk—get away with it.”
Angela was about to inquire more, but she was interrupted by--
“Hell-ooooo! Miss Yin! Why are you not making with the evacuation like bees make with the sweet, sweet honey?”
Spider-Man stepped back, examining the Lizard wearily. He had webbed the creature entirely from snout to the tip of his tail. The cocooned Lizard was convulsing and struggling all over the rubble and concrete, and Spidey didn’t know how long this webbing was going to hold him.
Spidey looked over his shoulder at Angela. Then, he saw the guns scattered across the subway tracks.
He asked, “Is this where the NRA does its recycling?”
Angela called, “This was a smuggling route, Spidey! I think we’ve spoiled someone’s party!” Strangely, she was smiling.
SPIDER-SENSE~!
There was a soft, wet ripping noise, followed by the deafening roar. The Lizard was free.
Spidey sprang into the air, tucking his feet under him, flipping backward and pouncing his feet on the Lizard’s snout. Peter’s muscles were still aching and his stomach wrenched, but if he could end this fast, then he could go back to bed. Chin-first, the Lizard hit the subway tracks. The beast was eager for a fight. He propelled himself upward as soon as he hit the ground, and had tackled Spider-Man just as the hero himself touched down.
The Lizard grasped Spidey at his shoulders, lunging for his throat, but the web-slinger pulled the Lizard’s jaws apart, barely keeping the jaws from snapping shut.
Angela Yin snapped a few more photos.
Then she noticed that Barty and Reggie had hobbled together down the opposite direction of the tunnel…like they didn’t want to go back the way they came. Or maybe like something was coming for them from that way. Angela bit her lip. She didn’t like that at all. But she needed just a few more pictures, then she could get Spidey out of here.
What did she really think Spidey could accomplish anyway? What did Spidey think he could accomplish for that matter? Angela shook her head, waving the thoughts from her mind. She’d waited for almost an hour for Spider-Man atop the Daily Bugle, and Spidey was unapologetic to say the least. Obnoxious would be a nice way of putting it.
But Angela had gotten him to carry her (“Wheeee!”) to the Middle East Side, or District X, or Mutant Town, whatever. She’d gotten some tips from friends she knew from high school—those who had to retreat to a safer part of the city after puberty kicked in.
It didn’t take long for them to stumble upon the Lizard viciously attacking Reggie. It was like Spider-Man had some kind of sixth sense that lead them to the Lizard…Angela clicked a pic.
Spider-Man pushed up with his feet against the Lizard’s chest. The monster was flung snout over talons, sliding across the subway tracks. Spidey looked back at Angela, making sure to keep track of where she was at all times.
He looked at the Lizard, who was shaking off the attack. Spidey had to shake off his own nausea before continuing. But it seemed to keep coming in waves. Peter wasn’t sure how much longer he could go like this. He said, “Doc, you gotta listen to me. You can beat this thing. You have before—”
SPIDER-SENSE-!
The Lizard pounced. Spider-Man was barely able to jump in time, and the Lizard once again sailed under him. Peter grimaced, clutched his cramping belly. It seemed there was no reasoning with Doctor Connors. Was there ever? Peter hated to admit it, but every time he tried to talk the Lizard down, Peter would just barely dodge another attack.
But the Doc isn’t a monster… Peter was obviously trying to convince himself.
Spider-Man’s feet hit the ground again, but this time his hand shot out and grasped the Lizard’s tail. Pulling with every ounce of strength he could muster, Spidey whipped the Lizard back over his shoulder. The Lizard sailed through the air and crashed against the subway tracks, sending cracks and bits of debris into the dim torchlight.
Spidey didn’t let go of the tail. His biceps were throbbing with ache, but he gripped harder, getting ready for a second spin, and hoping that his sickness didn’t make him vomit from the dizziness.
But the Lizard braced himself. And opened his jaws wide. Peter expected the Lizard to leap at him, teeth snapping. The Lizard didn’t do that.
Slimy, sharp teeth snapped to a shut around the Lizard’s own tail. In a gush of blood and a resonance of ripping muscle, the Lizard bit right through it.
Spider-Man tasted bitter fluid in the back of his mouth, and it almost erupted all over the inside of his mask. He looked down at the limp, thick, bloody stump that was still clasped in his fingers. Remembering to take a breath, he dropped it. But it wasn’t enough; his stomach was still doing somersaults. Lifting up his mask, Peter vomited all over the concrete in front of him. Spidey could have sworn he saw the tail writhe a little on the ground, in a shallow pool of blood.
“Ewww…” Angela Yin kept taking pictures.
The Lizard in the next second, erupted a harsh wail—one that sailed through the tunnels like a ghost, cold and inhuman.
“Doc?” Spidey gasped.
SPIDER-SENSE~!
With blood still oozing from the half-limb at his tailbone, the Lizard again leapt at Spider-Man. This time, Spider-Man did not jump quickly enough. The Lizard’s weight crushed him against the ground, talons wrapped at his neck. Spidey quickly connected with a punch to the Lizard’s snout.
“This is hurting me as much as it hurts you, doc.” Spidey flipped the Lizard over, pinning the monster himself. Then, he connected with more punches. “I’m kidding! After all, you did just cannibalize yourself.” In the euphoria of a post-vomit, his stomach was still.
After a while longer, not letting up his assault against the tough leathery face, Spidey realized he couldn’t hear the Lizard’s growling anymore. It had been replaced by another noise. One that Spidey didn’t need a spider-sense to warn him about.
Spider-Man was on his feet, and looking for Angela Yin.
Angela had heard the sound. That’s why she was walking curiously toward the other side of the tunnel, her camera in hand.
“What…is…that?” Angela cocked her head sideways a little. She tried to peer into the darkness a bit more, but she didn’t want to get too close.
“Stop! In the name of love!” Spidey threw up his hand toward Angela.
Angela wasn’t looking. Then something came out of the darkness. They were small, round. They bounced a little bit on the concrete in between the subway tracks, making heavy noises against it, showing off their weight. They looked like tiny little pumpkins.
Angela’s eyes widened. She was looking for Spider-Man now.
A sticky, spaghetti-looking mess exploded against her waist, and she was jerked forward in a motion that she hoped wouldn’t break her neck, just before flame and smoke exploded against her back, releasing concrete debris and dust across the tunnel.
Angela collided with Spider-Man.
Angela smiled at him. “You have great timing.”
Spidey sighed, “Kid, it’s been real. It’s been fun. But it hasn’t been real fun. You gotta get outta here. The guy after us now isn’t nearly as reasonable as Godzilla, Jr. over there.” Spidey thumbed at the Lizard who cowered back a little bit, trying to wrap his mind around the explosion.
The strange noise had returned, but smoke covered the near distance, and the torchlight didn’t really do much to help anything.
Then came a cackle as loud as the rockets.
The Hobgoblin gently hovered into view, just a few feet away. His eyes glowed green.
“Oh, how did I know it was you?” the Hobgoblin snapped.
“Didn’t you get my voice mail?” Spider-Man quickly pushed Angela Yin behind him. “Or are you one of those people who only check when their mailbox is full?”
The Hobgoblin was shaking with anger. Glowing eyes scanned the spill of weapons in front of him.
“Already interfering with my plans! Every single time! I can’t get rid of you!” the Hobgoblin was now screaming. “I can’t let you! I won’t let you or the police or Kronas take what’s mine! You hear me! I’ll die before I let you take what I’ve earned!”
Spider-Man knew enough to ignore the ego. He turned to Angela. “Sounds like a murderous rampage to me, Anj.” He put both his hands on her shoulders. “Please. Go.”
Angela bit her lip, and looked up at him. Peter knew she couldn’t see through his mask, but she was looking right into his eyes. She said, “Okay. You better not die.”
Spidey shrugged and turned around. “I make a habit out of not dying. I think that’s why Hobby’s so upset with me.”
SPIDER-SENSE~!
The Lizard—Peter kicked himself for forgetting about him for those precious seconds—sailed over Spider-Man’s head. Spidey instinctively pushed Angela down a bit, but didn’t need to. The Lizard had a whole new target.
Landing right in front of the Hobgoblin, the Lizard howled once more through the sewer.
Hobgoblin, still balanced precariously on his glider, flinched just a little. Then, the smile returned to his masked face. “Now where did you come from? I thought I was the only monster down here.”
The Lizard snapped his jaws, then leapt at the Hobgoblin. But the goblin glider was faster. Smoothly, the Hobgoblin avoided the Lizard, keeping balance on the glider. He was a bit higher in the air, when he dropped more pumpkin-bombs from a pouch along his waist.
But the Lizard, as though understanding the danger, deftly rolled away, before more concrete and debris and smoke erupted with thunder. The smoke clouded the view, and now there was water leaking from various fractures in the concrete walls.
Spider-Man looked back at Angela. But Angela was gone. He felt his stomach starting to cramp up on him again. He felt a familiar dizziness. Oh no. Where did Angela get off to? Hopefully she’s on her way to the surface…I’ve got to make sure the Hobgoblin doesn’t take Doc Connors with him off the deep end.
“Spider-Man!” the Hobgoblin yelled. “The Lizard is one of your friends now, is he? No matter! I’ll kill him just the same as I will you!”
The Lizard leapt at the Hobgoblin again, but again, the Hobgoblin was too fast. But the Hobgoblin retreated to the ceiling of the sewer, which Spidey imagined was actually the underside of a street on the Middle East Side. The Hobgoblin unleashed a flash of electricity from his gloves, but it seemed to just be absorbed by the Lizard’s thick hide.
Spider-Man took advantage of the distraction. He thwip!ed a web-line to a wing of the Hobgoblin’s glider and pulled as hard as he could. The Hobgoblin’s grin faded as he felt himself pulled off balance.
“No!” he shouted, falling hard on his tailbone against the flooded concrete. His glider went spinning hard into the wall. But it was a strong machine, and didn’t even dent. It settled to the ground, calmly, without someone to power it.
The Hobgoblin reached for it from the other side of the sewer, as though he could actually get to it. But the back of his head smacked concrete when the Lizard pounced on his chest. Jaws snapping, the Lizard let out a victorious wail before turning his teeth downward to the Hobgoblin’s neck.
Webbing wired the Lizard’s jaws shut in the next instant. Then, with a sharp yank, Spider-Man pulled the Lizard head-over-heels toward him. Even though he bounced and crashed across the damp pavement, the Lizard was back up quickly, shaking off the attack and the webbing. The Hobgoblin was up too.
SPIDER-SENSE!
From two sides! Spider-Man realized. The Hobgoblin was about to reach his glider. The Lizard was bounding toward his jugular.
“Not so fast, Hob-knob!” Spider-Man shouted. He threw more webbing, this time at the glider. He pulled the heavy weapon just out of the Hobgoblin’s stride.
“Damn!” the Hobgoblin screamed.
Not bothering to stop his momentum, Spider-Man carried through with his swinging arc, bringing the goblin glider to meet with an airborne Lizard. The metal smacked against the Lizard’s thick skull with a dull sound. The Lizard’s body hit the concrete with much the same noise. The glider skidded to another halt on the other side of the tunnel from the Hobgoblin.
Spidey turned from the Lizard to the Hobgoblin. I gotta stay ahead of them both… But a the little dizziness he’d gotten from swinging the glider didn’t fade, and in fact, got worse. Spidey had to brace his hands on his knees.
The Lizard was still down, but the Hobgoblin was--
SPIDER-SENSE~!
—running up to kick him in the face.
Peter could only stumble backward a bit, and not far enough. The Hobgoblin connected with a fierce kick to his jaw.
“You won’t get these or any of my other toys I’ve got hidden down here…it’s the last of my depots anyway.” Hobgoblin reached into the pouch along his side, and ran his other hand along the inside of his coat.
Like overripe apples, they fell and rolled dully along the tunnel floor toward Spider-Man. They were shaped like pumpkins, but up close like this, Peter could admire the circuitry and craftsmanship of--
SPIDER-SENSE~!
Peter tried to roll backward away from the oncoming bombs. There had to be as many as twenty, thirty dropping out of the Hobgoblin’s person. The goblin glider suddenly whipped through air toward the Hobgoblin, like iron filings toward a magnet. The Hobgoblin jumped, and it was under his feet.
He snarled, “Might as well spare no expense, Spider-Man.”
“Don’t do it! The street’ll come down on both our heads, Hobby!” Spider-Man yelled.
The Hobgoblin puckered his lips and gasped, “Oh no!” Then his face became serious, and his mouth curled. “Now, no one can get their hands on my guns. Ha! You’ll be lucky if someone gets their hands on your dead body after this place goes! Goodbye!”
The goblin glider rocketed down the tunnel and away with a speed Peter had never seen out of it before. But Peter was still looking at the blinking pumpkins that littered his feet. His spider-sense was absolutely stinging his scalp. Peter wasn’t even thinking about food poisoning.
He was just thinking about how he needed to survive this. He owed May a life with a father, something he never got. He owed Betty for her understanding. He owed Randy the truth. His breathing had picked up, his heart was pounding in his chest…
But all he saw to help him get out of this mess, was an empty tunnel…guns that he didn’t know how to load or even hold correctly in his hands…and a giant Lizard.
The pumpkins exploded.
NEXT ISSUE: Whaaaat?! The Foolkiller’s identity…revealed?!?!