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. He has some personal problems to work through, keeping just as many secrets from Peter as Peter keeps from him (issue 45)
-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, 45)
-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) Whilst clearing out one of his many weapons depots, the Hobgoblin is interrupted by the Lizard and Spider-Man! (issue 45)
-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) She even went so far as to interject herself into the Spidey’s fight with the Lizard…and then again with the Hobgoblin! (issues 44, 45)
-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, 45)
-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. He has some personal problems to work through, keeping just as many secrets from Peter as Peter keeps from him (issue 45)
-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, 45)
-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) Whilst clearing out one of his many weapons depots, the Hobgoblin is interrupted by the Lizard and Spider-Man! (issue 45)
-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) She even went so far as to interject herself into the Spidey’s fight with the Lizard…and then again with the Hobgoblin! (issues 44, 45)
-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, 45)
-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 #46 by Bryan Locke
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"WHO'S THE BOSS?"
“Phineas Mason?”
The room was dark, and eerily so. There was a lone lamp, hanging high above the miser’s head, and it reflected off the long, two-way mirror. Besides that, no light.
But the Tinkerer was thankful. There were some places in the Vault where they left you absolutely no light, along with nothing else, for days on end.
Finally, he did respond. “That is not my name.”
“Excuse me?” Agent Daniel Toy leaned into the shallow light
“I have no name.” Mason rasped, in a rough voice, fitting a man of almost eighty years old. “I am just a number behind these walls. Prisoner 902237. There are no humans in here. Just drones American society wants forget!” Mason’s voice was very loud then, and cracking on every syllable. He jumped to his feet, and his shackles clanked against one another. He shook his bony fists as high as he could. “But no one is going to forget about the Tinkerer! You cannot imprison genius! Do you hear me?!”
Toy sat back and raised his hands, “Whatever. The only reason you’re getting some time off from pressing license plates is because we need some information on one of your weapons. And I know how much you love to talk about them.”
The Tinkerer sat back down quickly. He drew his chair up close to Toy. “Which one?”
Toy’s brow narrowed. “The World.”
Mason stiffened. What little color left to his flesh rushed away. His eyes bulged and his throat gulped. His lips didn’t move.
“Tell me, dammit!” Now, Toy stood and slammed his fists on the table. “Some of my best agents are still recovering from time displacement!* My scientists are still trying to understand the technology!”
(*-Toy and his agents rescued Spidey from the World in issue 40- otherworldly Bryan)
Mason just smiled, and waited for Toy to calm down. Toy just stood there, puffed his chest out, indignant, but he finally sat down after a while.
The Tinkerer then said, “It was beautiful, wasn’t it? Did you see it? Were you there?” He stared at Toy, expecting an answer.
Toy frowned. “It was a nightmare. A good man was tortured and almost killed.”
The Tinkerer’s smile didn’t fade. “It’s complete. I don’t believe it. She finished herself. I imagine she was so beautiful.”
Toy sat still. “Our records show that around fifteen years ago, you were seen, in Russia, in the company of AIM—we assume you were under contract—but there are photos of you with their more brilliant minds, like Rappaccini, Madigan and Goddard…that’s a virtual who’s who when it comes to the leaders of the AIM splinter groups. Maybe MODOK was even there, who knows?” Now, Toy leaned in again. “You created the World together, didn’t you? Why didn’t you complete it?”
Mason cackled, “Because we didn’t need to.” He started to gaze off into the darkness.
Toy snapped his fingers in front of the Tinkerer’s face. “Focus. Tell me more.”
Mason snarled, but continued, “There were dozens of scientists. Some more brilliant than I would ever give them credit for being. With the tech at our disposal, how could we not create the future in our little foxhole? Or…bring the future to us rather. We were so tired of waiting for it.
“We all knew AIM was going to be shattered…and I suspect that’s why they brought me in: to hold together their last great triumph, all under MODOK’s nose, before they all turned on each other. So we made sure that it could complete itself…”
There was almost a smile on Toy’s face as he heard all this. “You manipulated time and biologically evolved nano-technology. You’re describing it like it was the last Beatles album or something.”
Mason frowned. “Who? Anyway, now you tell me…how magnificent was the World?”
Toy shook his head. “A husk. Someone had been there. Stripped it of anything alive.”
Mason’s jaw started to tremble. “No…oh no…who would do that? We were all so dedicated…so obsessed…we would never…wait!” He again jumped to his feet. His manacles clanked as he shook his arms. “I know! He was there all along, always leaning against the wall, always smoking a cigarette, never saying but a few choice words! Yes…I know the crook!”
Toy glared at him. “Who, Mason? Tell me and I can promise you a transfer.”
Mason’s upper lip curled. “Lukin. Alexander Lukin.”
He was a little unnerved when he heard the telephone ring. He could count on one hand the number of people who had his office number, and it wasn’t good news to hear from any of them.
But he answered with a stiff--
“Kronas.”
“How can you sleep at night, knowing that I’m intent on killing you?”
The voice was cold and sharp. The room around Lukin, though already so dim in the setting sun, seemed to become even dimmer. But Lukin stood calmly from his wide, leather chair, keeping the phone pressed tightly to his ear.
“Miss Osborn.” Lukin said, “I’ve been expecting your call.”
“You truly cannot comprehend the mistake you’ve made, Lukin.”
“Mistake?” Lukin sighed.
There was a small glass on his desk. It was about half-empty with a clear liquid, and the small remains of one ice cube. He picked it up with his free hand and took a tiny sip, and smacked his lips together before continuing.
“It’s funny. The word ‘mistake’ was tossed around a lot when I held meetings with the Oscorp board. All the major shareholders I’ve talked with have used that term freely as well.” Lukin set the glass back down. “Perhaps you should have stayed in Antarctica. There you might have made more friends.” He chuckled. “It’s as though they were looking for a reason to give me your company.”
“You’re dead. All of you. Dead.” The words were simple, like facts.
Lukin’s smile widened. “You don’t think it would be a bit suspicious if, suddenly, the Oscorp board and the man purchasing said board were to…take a permanent vacation? Especially if the only one alive is the recently reformed, previously ‘brainwashed’ widow of Harry Osborn? The former ‘Rose Goblin’? Do you remember how many headlines you made, Elizabeth?”*
(*-what better excuse to hop in the wayback machine and reread Mike’s ASM issues 18-19?- Bryan)
“You think that’ll stop me?”
Lukin cleared his throat and then said, “Well…yes. You don’t want little Normie to grow up sane, do you? You don’t want him to be put into a wonderful foster family, who’ll love him and cherish him, do you? What will happen to the Green Goblin’s legacy then?”
“You will die by my hand, Lukin. I promise you this.”
The line went dead. Lukin hung up the phone, then picked up the glass. He finished what little was left inside it.
“Well, my friend—” Lukin turned toward the man whom he’d kept reminding himself was there. He didn’t know his real name…just his nationality. He was the Russian.
The grim, scarred face was hidden in the dimness, but Lukin could make out a silhouette of a massive frame, with muscles and veins on the edge of bursting. His clothes were dirty, much like the rest of him. Lukin had never seen him wear anything but the striped red shirt and blood-stained denim jeans.
Lukin continued, “Seems we’re here to stay.”
Lukin gazed wearily at the newspaper that lay on his desk. It was the Daily Globe’s business section. It wasn’t the top headline he read, but one of the lower banners:
‘Oscorp Declares Bankruptcy’
Lukin started chuckling again. “I love this economy. Falling down in tatters, and nobody sees me picking up the pieces. Not the Kingpin, not the Maggia, nobody. First, Kingsley Limited and now Oscorp. Their connections, their weapons, their potential are now mine. The feeling I have at the moment is not unlike the one I felt in Afghanistan, thirty years ago.”
Reaching into a lower drawer of his massive desk, Lukin retrieved a long, unlabeled bottle of the same, clear liquid. He refilled his drink, not bothering with the ice this time. He sipped and sighed again. His attention, never really upon the Russian at all, turned back to the long, window behind him, which portrayed the New York skyline.
Lukin saw smoke in the distance, and then remembered he had indeed heard the superhuman disaster alarm ringing a few minutes before. Lukin gritted his teeth.
“Now, I just have to make sure there isn’t anything I haven’t noticed…something that could bring it all crashing down…something as simple as an insect…or a spider…”
The first thing Peter noticed when he awoke was the stinging in his scalp. His spider-sense was blaring off the charts. The next thing he noticed was the pressure on his back, followed by the wrenching in his gut.
Then he remembered where he was.
He didn’t know if he was going to be strong enough, but he pushed upward with his legs and his arms, and felt the force against his back weaken and stumble. Soon, light began to filter through. After another few seconds, Spider-Man had emerged from the rubble.
But he still carried something on his back. That something was the only reason he’d been able to survive the collapse of the sewer ceiling—or rather, the New York City street, that the Hobgoblin decided to blow to kingdom come.
Wearily, he shook the Lizard off his back. The monster fell limply into the rubble. Spider-Man finally got a good look at just how massive the Lizard had become in this new incarnation. His tail—which the Lizard himself had eviscerated—seemed to be growing back quickly from a bloody stump.
Peter thought, Sorry, doc. I hated to do that, but you were my only chance to survive being squashed like…well, a spider. I knew that thick hide of yours could take it.
Now, Spider-Man could survey his surroundings. He was still a little off-kilter; he could recognize that after years of being off-kilter in these situations. Sunlight was fading quickly over the skyline. The skyline was blurred from smoke and heat. It wasn’t as hot as it had been, thanks to the water jets spurting from the ground into the sky. The ground was nothing but rubble.
“Hobgoblin.” Spidey sighed.
The hole that Spidey stood in had to take up at least one stretch of street down a city block. He shook his head from side-to-side, to maybe see people…whether dead or alive. NYC was one of the most populous cities in the world; there had to have been casualties. But Spidey saw none. He didn’t even see any upturned cars.
But he heard sirens. And then he heard--
“Spidey!”
Spider-Man looked around. There was still no one in the crater but him.
“Up here! Hey! Spidey!”
Spider-Man gazed at the top of the crater. There, through the smoke, he could see Angela Yin. She was hopping up and down, and waving her hands in the air.
Spidey was going to wave her away, but it was too late. The girl was already scampering down the crater, barely making it over the rubble without tripping.
Finally, she stopped in front of Spidey, her chest heaving. Since he was still a little disoriented, Spider-Man didn’t counter when Angela grasped him into a tight hug, pressing her face against the emblem on his chest. Peter felt his stomach lurch a little, reminding him that the Hobgoblin was not the only thing he was combating.
“Oh I’m so glad you’re alive!” Angela yelped.
Spidey sighed, and patted her on the back. “I am too, tiger. I thought I told you to get out of here? I did say that, right? More than once? That’s not a concussion talking?”
Angela nodded. “I did! Thank god, too! I was able to get the cops to evacuate this city block by showing them the pics on my digital camera. But I didn’t think anything like this would hap—”
“You did what?” Spider-Man looked down at her. She only glared back in confusion. Spidey laughed, “You evacuated the city block?” Peter couldn’t keep himself from grasping her even more tightly then she was grasping him. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Oh, thank you, Angie! Do you realize how many lives you’ve saved today?”
Angela was smiling wide when they looked at each other again. She said, “Well…all I did was tell the cops, and they sounded the superhuman disaster alarms, and pretty soon, this block looked like George Steinbrenner had bought the Boston Marathon!”
Spider-Man crossed his arms. “You saw thousands of people running out of here, and you didn’t think maybe it was a good idea?”
Angela pursed her lips, ready to give a standard, salty reply, but--
SPIDER-SENSE~!
Spidey gripped Angela at the shoulders, ready to take her with him, but no attack came. Rubble shifted behind him. Spidey spun on his heel, keeping Angela at his back.
The Lizard was standing. He was grasping his head, constantly shaking it, trying to get some sort of bearing. Finally, bracing himself on his hind legs, the Lizard could see Spidey in front of him. Opening his jaw, baring teeth long and pointed, like hypodermic needles, the Lizard erupted a growl from deep within his gut.
“Ssssppyyyyddrrrrrr…”
Spider-Man instinctively reeled two steps back, careful to keep Angela seized tightly with one hand. But the Lizard made no move to attack.
Shaking his snout again, the Lizard merely stumbled to the side, away from Spider-Man. Then, with another howl, the beast bounded up the side of the crater, crushing rubble each time his scaled feet would touch ground. Soon, the Lizard was out of the crater, and out of sight.
Angela asked softly, “You’re not going after him?”
Spidey sighed. “Don’t you think enough damage has been done today?” Inside, Peter was thinking about how exhausted he was. His gut was started to churn again, and the dizziness, while tame, was growing. He was in no condition to fight the Lizard in the first place, much less the Hobgoblin. Not to mention that Betty Brant was probably wondering why he wasn’t back watching his daughter...
But, for some reason, he was still feeling his spider-sense. Peter gulped. He knew he wasn’t going home any time soon.
He heard rockets. He heard a goblin-glider.
“Angela, I know I’m sounding like a broken record,” Spidey turned back to the girl, “but you’ve got boogie like a disco queen off this dance floor.” He tried to let go of her, but realized he wasn’t holding her hand anymore. She was holding his.
Angela was nodding when she looked up at him. “You know, there’s a thin line between a hero and a fool.”
Spider-Man laughed. “Which one am I?”
She was forcing a grin. “I don’t know. But I think you walk the line pretty well.”
“If you don’t get out of here,” Spidey said softly, leaning close, “I think I know which side of that line you’re gonna fall on.”
Angela bit her lip, looked over her shoulder, and then nodded quickly. Without saying anything else to Spider-Man, she ran past him, and up the side of the crater.
His spider-sense was still tingling, so he knew he only had to wait.
Not very long, anyway.
In smoke and the setting sun, blurred by waves of heat, the Hobgoblin was slowly gliding toward him, like he was in no hurry at all. Pellets of water, from broken piping, cascaded along the wind—the illusion of a late summer rain.
The Hobgoblin had his hands across his chest. “This does not surprise me one bit.” His glider slowed as he reached the center of the crater. It hovered there gently. The rockets breathed loudly.
Spider-Man, his stomach ready to pull more somersaults than his legs were at that moment, prepared for an attack. His fists rose. “I’m full of surprises, Hob-slob.”
The Hobgoblin shook his head. “You have long been an unprofitable venture, Spider-Man. Fighting you is not why I’ve lingered in this city.” He pointed a gloved finger toward the wall-crawler. “Don’t think that because I’m leaving you alive that I still won’t find you and murder you.”
Spidey shrugged. “Scaredy-cat!”
The Hobgoblin’s lips curled into a snarl. Spider-Man was ready for anything. Except maybe his--
SPIDER-SENSE~!
—intensifying, searing through his skull, telling him to--
“Jump!” Spider-Man didn’t know where he was jumping to, but he was airborne.
He tucked his legs to him, flipping backward. He could see a bullet rip through the space where he had been standing and explode a small mound of earth under him.
Spider-Man hit the ground a few yards farther away from the Hobgoblin.
Peter tried to keep his mind clear. The vertigo was faint, probably only thanks to the adrenaline pumping through him. Sniper? Is it the police? Would Code: Blue--
SPIDER-SENSE~!
This time, Spider-Man only had to duck. The bullet ripped past him, and just past the Hobgoblin, judging by his reaction, and the explosion of soil at his feet. Hobgoblin rocked back and forth on his glider, keeping his balance, not his composure.
“A sniper?” the Hobgoblin yelled, “Is that what this is all about, Spider-Man? Are you in with Kronas to kill me?”
Spider-Man didn’t say anything. Indeed he was afraid to move with a sniper around. He could only trust his spider-sense, and try to figure out the identity of this shooter. The Hobgoblin seemed to have no connection. But the way he was flying around, he was a prime target. But he mentioned Kronas, Peter noted, and it’s not the first time. What’s his connection to what happened that night at the Harbour?* Who’s this sniper if he ain’t with Hobby? This ain’t Frank Castle’s style--
(*-that was back in issue 42- Bryan)
SPIDER-SENSE~!
Peter darted to his right, as another bullet seared by his ear, and then implanted itself in the wing of the Hobgoblin’s glider.
The effect was as immediate as the Hobgoblin’s scream. Fire, smoke and noise tore along the sunken NYC street. Spider-Man, crouched, missed by the flame and the shrapnel from the flying contraption’s detonation.
The Hobgoblin, however, still screaming, was blasted head-over-heels ten yards into the air. He hit the ground with a crunch, and his screaming ceased. So did any movement from him.
His spider-sense was still ringing but Spidey thought, That was a kill shot! He tried to kill the Hobgoblin! That rules out Code: Blue at least…
As if on cue, Spider-Man heard another sound…
In the distance, a black helicopter whipped around a skyscraper. Spidey barely had time to read the words ‘CODE: BLUE’ emblazoned on the side. At full speed, the copter was over him in seconds. Spidey could still hear the harsh tone over the heavy whipping of the blades.
“Spider-Man! Hobgoblin! We are ordered to use lethal force if you do not cease all violence at once! On the ground! Hands on your head! I repeat—we are ordered to—”
SPIDER-SENSE~!
Spidey ducked again, but this time, the bullet didn’t come anywhere close to him.
Sparks and smoke spewed from the Code: Blue helicopter, like the water from the broken pipeline. Fire followed. The helicopter’s rear rotor was a blur in the smoke, but it was screaming. In less than a second, the entire copter was falling, spinning, to Earth with the grace of one-winged wasp.
Spider-Man knew he had less than a second to act. So he did.
The helicopter had already fallen to its side. But, through the sheer skill of its pilot, or maybe a miracle of physics, it wobbled back upright, before falling to the other side. It flailed another three-hundred-sixty degrees around, and by this time Spider-Man was in the air.
Blades whipped at more than a hundred miles an hour. Spider-Man could feel them inches from his scalp, as he gracefully curved an arc over them.
The helicopter’s cabin was open on both sides. Spider-Man felt his landing whip the copter upright again. Barely half a second had passed, and already the copter was falling to other side again. The pilot had an iron grip on his controls, but when Spider-Man wrenched under his arm, the grip meant nothing. Another policeman sat gripped by fear in the adjacent seat. Spider-Man’s grip was tighter than that too. Holding fast, springing his feet as strongly as he could, Spider-Man darted through the cabin’s opening. Buckles snapped from the seats along with the policemen.
Wobbling more chaotically for another split-second, the helicopter crashed against the sunken street. Rotors and blades bent and screeched, before the copter’s entire frame was engulfed in a fireball that burst, wailed and echoed through the crater.
Spider-Man and his cargo hit the ground another split-second after that. His spider-sense was calmer, so he knew the inferno behind him was in no danger of spreading. Amazingly, he was up the second afterward, judging the policemen.
Probably dislocated their shoulders pulling them out of that helicopter like that, Spidey shook his head, but they’re alive. Oh man, I need to go home…
Peter suddenly felt a lurch in his belly again. He pulled up his mask and turned away from the policemen. It was little more than dry heaves, but what was left in Spider-Man’s stomach was now all over the rubble. Peter pulled his mask back down, and turned back to Code: Blue.
One of the policemen—the rifleman who sat next to the pilot—was unconscious. The pilot himself was dazed, but conscious. He struggled with his helmet, but finally got it off his head.
Lieutenant Marcus Stone, the commanding officer of Code: Blue, shook his head, rubbed his eyes for the smoke. He gazed up at Spider-Man. It was a harsh whisper. “You just saved our lives.”
Spider-Man shrugged. “But think of all the paperwork you have to do now.”
Stone rubbed his sinuses. “What?”
Spider-Man crouched to his knees, grasping Stone’s shoulders. “Nevermind. Listen to me. There’s a sniper on one of the roofs of these buildings. Get your boy out of here. And take him with you.” Spidey thumbed over his shoulder at the Hobgoblin, who was still motionless on the far side of the crater, just past the blazing wreckage. “Lose the key this time, will you?”
Stone coughed. “You just saved our lives.”
“Get over it.” Spidey sighed, standing. “Sniper, remember? I’ll catch you later, Stone.”
Spider-Man bounded with three steps, and he was clear of the crater. One more crouch, and he was airborne. Webbing ejected from his wrists, sticking to the nearest whatever, and he swung toward the sky.
Come on spider-sense. Peter thought, Don’t fail me now. I am sooo ready for this day to be over. Hopefully this maniac with a gun hasn’t targeted anybody new…
Angela Yin was amazed at how abandoned these two blocks had become. New York was such a vast city that usually when the superhuman disaster alarms sounded, only a radius of a few blocks was actually evacuated. She hadn’t seen a single person.
No people, of course. But there was a monster.
Angela was sure to duck behind a car before clicking another picture of the Lizard. It was the Lizard that she had been after today, not the Hobgoblin, not the destruction of a Midtown street, not even Spider-Man. Angela knew, if she gave Jonah anything else, he’d use it as an excuse not to pay her as much.
But the Lizard had clearly taken the brunt of the damage from the collapsing street. She’d seen Spider-Man emerge after using the Lizard as a shield, and was surprised the Lizard could still move at all. He hadn’t gotten far from the crater, and they both had heard another explosion behind them. Angela hoped Spider-Man was okay.
The monster kept sauntering down the abandoned sidewalk, clutching his head. Sometimes, he had to stop and lean upon the walls of buildings for support.
Finally, with Angela spying and clicking only yards away, precariously behind abandoned vehicles, the Lizard reached a dark alleyway. Angela stopped, to spy around the corner. The Lizard had collapsed to his hands and knees.
Can’t get too close now, she thought, he’s cornered. He’ll probably revert to Connors--
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp noise of metal on metal. Angela dropped to her hands and knees now too, to look. There was someone clambering down a fire escape into the alley, right above the Lizard.
Who the hell…?
“Doctor Connors!” the man yelled, confident he wasn’t being heard. “So good to see you made it. I’m sorry I’m late. I was distracted by your friends: the Hobgoblin and Spider-Man.”
Angela could now make out the man, but just barely for the dark of the alley. He was clad from head to toe in black body armor. His ski mask was tight, with odd goggles over his eyes, and a brazenly fake, curly wig over his head.
The Lizard groaned. The noise sounded like, “Ffffoooolllkillllrrrr….”
“Oh, how cute.” Foolkiller chuckled. In one hand, there was an overly large sniper rifle. In the other, a much more functional pistol. Along his body, there were other assortments of guns and knives, from what Angela could see. Foolkiller dropped the rifle, like it was a banana peel, and cocked the pistol.
“Do you remember what I told you when we met in the precinct station?*” Foolkiller asked the Lizard. He didn’t get a reply, just another low groan, as the Lizard struggled to move. Foolkiller laughed and said, “You’ve proven yourself to be a fool. And you know the best part? I didn’t even inject you with your formula, Doctor Connors. It was only a placebo! Your own foolish mind turned you into this creature!”
(*- issue 43- Bryan)
Angela wasn’t stupid. Connors had been arrested for the murder of his colleague at Empire State University.* This Foolkiller must’ve been behind that murder too! Just to unleash the Lizard on the city! Now he was gonna kill him!
(*- the Annual 2007 – Bryan)
The Foolkiller raised his gun, and pressed the barrel against the scalp of the disoriented monster in front of him. “These bullets will have no problem piercing your skin, Doctor. Now, you join your friend Doctor Wiles in Hell.”
Angela knew what she had to do. “No way!” She yelled.
She leapt to her feet, bringing her camera to her eyes. The Foolkiller and the Lizard were both much closer than she had thought. With the press of a button, the camera burst a flash that illuminated the alley.
“Ah!” the Foolkiller dropped both his head and his gun. He pulled the goggles off his eyes. “Damn!”
Angela didn’t know why she hadn’t started running. The Foolkiller rubbed his eyes, and then saw his assailant. The Lizard had started to move a bit more next to him.
“Bitch.” The word echoed through the alley. The gun rose again.
Suddenly the gun was whipped through the air. “Tsk! Such profanity!” Angela had recognized the webbing, and the sarcastic tone, of Spider-Man.
Red and blue flashed past her, and Spider-Man unwound from a tight flip. Before he landed in the alley, he landed a kick to the Foolkiller’s face. The killer was sent flying backward, hard into a dumpster.
Spider-Man looked over his shoulder at her. “You’re becoming a bad habit.”
Angela smiled, raised her camera again.
Spider-Man sized up the Lizard, who was still dazed, and then looked over to the Foolkiller. After taking a few seconds to judge him, and his weaponry, Spidey said, “Wait—I know you! You’re the one Doc Connors was telling me about, aren’t you? You’re the one that assaulted Jonah! You’re the new Foolkiller, aren’t you?”
Foolkiller was still conscious, and he glared at Spider-Man from behind his ski mask. “It is not a name. It is a purpose.” He spat at Spider-Man. “I hate you.”
Spider-Man didn’t waste any time. He rushed over to Foolkiller, grabbing the ski mask. “I’ll wear the mask around here, buddy.” He pulled the ski mask.
Then, dropped it. Spider-Man couldn’t believe who he was facing.
The face was familiar. It was one that Spider-Man thought he’d never see again.
“No…” Peter whispered, “you’re not…Russ Anderson?”
Tears streamed down the Foolkiller’s face. In the dark of the alleyway, Spider-Man could swear he was staring into the mirror image of a man Peter had once called friend. Russ Anderson was a member of the NYPD, sent to investigate the Rose Goblin. Anderson was forced to leave the NYPD in disgrace, after taking the fall for Spider-Man’s mistake.
But Spidey peered closer…“No,” Peter shook his head, “you’re not Russ. You’re younger…”
SPIDER-SENSE~!
The Foolkiller’s hand went like a flash to his vest, yanking at a gun there. “Don’t pretend like you knew my father!”
“No!” Spidey instinctively raised his wrists at the gun. Nothing! No webbing! Empty!
Foolkiller raised the gun at Spider-Man.
“RRRRAAAHHRRR!”
The Lizard rushed past Spider-Man, diving toward the Foolkiller, before sinking his teeth deep into Foolkiller’s shoulder. There was a burst of blood, and a snap of flesh and bone. The gun skewed direction, and fired wildly, erratic, into the alley past Spider-Man.
The Foolkiller screamed.
Spider-Man already had his hands on the Lizard. He pulled as hard as he could, ripping the Lizard off the Foolkiller, sending the monster right over his shoulder. Spider-Man spun on his heels, ready for the Lizard.
But the Lizard was slow to move again. He struggled to get back on his hind feet. The beast looked back at Spider-Man, gritting his needle-teeth. Shaking his snout again, the Lizard did not attack. He merely broke into a run, out of the alley, away from Spider-Man, disappearing around the corner…after passing Angela Yin…
“Oh no…” Peter’s eyes were wide behind his mask.
Angela Yin lay motionless, face down, on the concrete. Her digital camera was inches from her sprawled fingertips. Something dark—something that could only be blood—spread slowly from under her belly along the cold ground.
“No! Angela!” Peter rushed to her.
He felt her pulse. She was still alive!
Spider-Man grasped her tightly, trying to pick her up, and he felt her warm blood soak against his costume. Peter knew he had no webbing. He had to run. But where could he go? Where could he take her? What had happened? Spider-Man remembered the wild shot the Foolkiller had taken when the Lizard had attacked. Peter didn’t even bother to look back at the injured Foolkiller in the alley.
This girl, who had only wanted to take his picture, was seconds from death, if Spider-Man didn’t get her help. How many times had he saved her life today? How many times had he told her to get to safety? Spider-Man ran up walls, over windows, bounding along roofs as fast as he could. All the while, he pressed Angela Yin tighter to his chest, hoping to feel her heart still beating.
Angela…not you too…please Angela, hang on, please, hang on, for me…
Spider-Man was soon lost in the New York skyline.
The Foolkiller was still conscious, still alive. Blood poured from the gaping tear in his shoulder. But he moved.
NEXT ISSUE: The final showdown with the Foolkiller! Guest-starring: The Night Nurses!
The room was dark, and eerily so. There was a lone lamp, hanging high above the miser’s head, and it reflected off the long, two-way mirror. Besides that, no light.
But the Tinkerer was thankful. There were some places in the Vault where they left you absolutely no light, along with nothing else, for days on end.
Finally, he did respond. “That is not my name.”
“Excuse me?” Agent Daniel Toy leaned into the shallow light
“I have no name.” Mason rasped, in a rough voice, fitting a man of almost eighty years old. “I am just a number behind these walls. Prisoner 902237. There are no humans in here. Just drones American society wants forget!” Mason’s voice was very loud then, and cracking on every syllable. He jumped to his feet, and his shackles clanked against one another. He shook his bony fists as high as he could. “But no one is going to forget about the Tinkerer! You cannot imprison genius! Do you hear me?!”
Toy sat back and raised his hands, “Whatever. The only reason you’re getting some time off from pressing license plates is because we need some information on one of your weapons. And I know how much you love to talk about them.”
The Tinkerer sat back down quickly. He drew his chair up close to Toy. “Which one?”
Toy’s brow narrowed. “The World.”
Mason stiffened. What little color left to his flesh rushed away. His eyes bulged and his throat gulped. His lips didn’t move.
“Tell me, dammit!” Now, Toy stood and slammed his fists on the table. “Some of my best agents are still recovering from time displacement!* My scientists are still trying to understand the technology!”
(*-Toy and his agents rescued Spidey from the World in issue 40- otherworldly Bryan)
Mason just smiled, and waited for Toy to calm down. Toy just stood there, puffed his chest out, indignant, but he finally sat down after a while.
The Tinkerer then said, “It was beautiful, wasn’t it? Did you see it? Were you there?” He stared at Toy, expecting an answer.
Toy frowned. “It was a nightmare. A good man was tortured and almost killed.”
The Tinkerer’s smile didn’t fade. “It’s complete. I don’t believe it. She finished herself. I imagine she was so beautiful.”
Toy sat still. “Our records show that around fifteen years ago, you were seen, in Russia, in the company of AIM—we assume you were under contract—but there are photos of you with their more brilliant minds, like Rappaccini, Madigan and Goddard…that’s a virtual who’s who when it comes to the leaders of the AIM splinter groups. Maybe MODOK was even there, who knows?” Now, Toy leaned in again. “You created the World together, didn’t you? Why didn’t you complete it?”
Mason cackled, “Because we didn’t need to.” He started to gaze off into the darkness.
Toy snapped his fingers in front of the Tinkerer’s face. “Focus. Tell me more.”
Mason snarled, but continued, “There were dozens of scientists. Some more brilliant than I would ever give them credit for being. With the tech at our disposal, how could we not create the future in our little foxhole? Or…bring the future to us rather. We were so tired of waiting for it.
“We all knew AIM was going to be shattered…and I suspect that’s why they brought me in: to hold together their last great triumph, all under MODOK’s nose, before they all turned on each other. So we made sure that it could complete itself…”
There was almost a smile on Toy’s face as he heard all this. “You manipulated time and biologically evolved nano-technology. You’re describing it like it was the last Beatles album or something.”
Mason frowned. “Who? Anyway, now you tell me…how magnificent was the World?”
Toy shook his head. “A husk. Someone had been there. Stripped it of anything alive.”
Mason’s jaw started to tremble. “No…oh no…who would do that? We were all so dedicated…so obsessed…we would never…wait!” He again jumped to his feet. His manacles clanked as he shook his arms. “I know! He was there all along, always leaning against the wall, always smoking a cigarette, never saying but a few choice words! Yes…I know the crook!”
Toy glared at him. “Who, Mason? Tell me and I can promise you a transfer.”
Mason’s upper lip curled. “Lukin. Alexander Lukin.”
He was a little unnerved when he heard the telephone ring. He could count on one hand the number of people who had his office number, and it wasn’t good news to hear from any of them.
But he answered with a stiff--
“Kronas.”
“How can you sleep at night, knowing that I’m intent on killing you?”
The voice was cold and sharp. The room around Lukin, though already so dim in the setting sun, seemed to become even dimmer. But Lukin stood calmly from his wide, leather chair, keeping the phone pressed tightly to his ear.
“Miss Osborn.” Lukin said, “I’ve been expecting your call.”
“You truly cannot comprehend the mistake you’ve made, Lukin.”
“Mistake?” Lukin sighed.
There was a small glass on his desk. It was about half-empty with a clear liquid, and the small remains of one ice cube. He picked it up with his free hand and took a tiny sip, and smacked his lips together before continuing.
“It’s funny. The word ‘mistake’ was tossed around a lot when I held meetings with the Oscorp board. All the major shareholders I’ve talked with have used that term freely as well.” Lukin set the glass back down. “Perhaps you should have stayed in Antarctica. There you might have made more friends.” He chuckled. “It’s as though they were looking for a reason to give me your company.”
“You’re dead. All of you. Dead.” The words were simple, like facts.
Lukin’s smile widened. “You don’t think it would be a bit suspicious if, suddenly, the Oscorp board and the man purchasing said board were to…take a permanent vacation? Especially if the only one alive is the recently reformed, previously ‘brainwashed’ widow of Harry Osborn? The former ‘Rose Goblin’? Do you remember how many headlines you made, Elizabeth?”*
(*-what better excuse to hop in the wayback machine and reread Mike’s ASM issues 18-19?- Bryan)
“You think that’ll stop me?”
Lukin cleared his throat and then said, “Well…yes. You don’t want little Normie to grow up sane, do you? You don’t want him to be put into a wonderful foster family, who’ll love him and cherish him, do you? What will happen to the Green Goblin’s legacy then?”
“You will die by my hand, Lukin. I promise you this.”
The line went dead. Lukin hung up the phone, then picked up the glass. He finished what little was left inside it.
“Well, my friend—” Lukin turned toward the man whom he’d kept reminding himself was there. He didn’t know his real name…just his nationality. He was the Russian.
The grim, scarred face was hidden in the dimness, but Lukin could make out a silhouette of a massive frame, with muscles and veins on the edge of bursting. His clothes were dirty, much like the rest of him. Lukin had never seen him wear anything but the striped red shirt and blood-stained denim jeans.
Lukin continued, “Seems we’re here to stay.”
Lukin gazed wearily at the newspaper that lay on his desk. It was the Daily Globe’s business section. It wasn’t the top headline he read, but one of the lower banners:
‘Oscorp Declares Bankruptcy’
Lukin started chuckling again. “I love this economy. Falling down in tatters, and nobody sees me picking up the pieces. Not the Kingpin, not the Maggia, nobody. First, Kingsley Limited and now Oscorp. Their connections, their weapons, their potential are now mine. The feeling I have at the moment is not unlike the one I felt in Afghanistan, thirty years ago.”
Reaching into a lower drawer of his massive desk, Lukin retrieved a long, unlabeled bottle of the same, clear liquid. He refilled his drink, not bothering with the ice this time. He sipped and sighed again. His attention, never really upon the Russian at all, turned back to the long, window behind him, which portrayed the New York skyline.
Lukin saw smoke in the distance, and then remembered he had indeed heard the superhuman disaster alarm ringing a few minutes before. Lukin gritted his teeth.
“Now, I just have to make sure there isn’t anything I haven’t noticed…something that could bring it all crashing down…something as simple as an insect…or a spider…”
The first thing Peter noticed when he awoke was the stinging in his scalp. His spider-sense was blaring off the charts. The next thing he noticed was the pressure on his back, followed by the wrenching in his gut.
Then he remembered where he was.
He didn’t know if he was going to be strong enough, but he pushed upward with his legs and his arms, and felt the force against his back weaken and stumble. Soon, light began to filter through. After another few seconds, Spider-Man had emerged from the rubble.
But he still carried something on his back. That something was the only reason he’d been able to survive the collapse of the sewer ceiling—or rather, the New York City street, that the Hobgoblin decided to blow to kingdom come.
Wearily, he shook the Lizard off his back. The monster fell limply into the rubble. Spider-Man finally got a good look at just how massive the Lizard had become in this new incarnation. His tail—which the Lizard himself had eviscerated—seemed to be growing back quickly from a bloody stump.
Peter thought, Sorry, doc. I hated to do that, but you were my only chance to survive being squashed like…well, a spider. I knew that thick hide of yours could take it.
Now, Spider-Man could survey his surroundings. He was still a little off-kilter; he could recognize that after years of being off-kilter in these situations. Sunlight was fading quickly over the skyline. The skyline was blurred from smoke and heat. It wasn’t as hot as it had been, thanks to the water jets spurting from the ground into the sky. The ground was nothing but rubble.
“Hobgoblin.” Spidey sighed.
The hole that Spidey stood in had to take up at least one stretch of street down a city block. He shook his head from side-to-side, to maybe see people…whether dead or alive. NYC was one of the most populous cities in the world; there had to have been casualties. But Spidey saw none. He didn’t even see any upturned cars.
But he heard sirens. And then he heard--
“Spidey!”
Spider-Man looked around. There was still no one in the crater but him.
“Up here! Hey! Spidey!”
Spider-Man gazed at the top of the crater. There, through the smoke, he could see Angela Yin. She was hopping up and down, and waving her hands in the air.
Spidey was going to wave her away, but it was too late. The girl was already scampering down the crater, barely making it over the rubble without tripping.
Finally, she stopped in front of Spidey, her chest heaving. Since he was still a little disoriented, Spider-Man didn’t counter when Angela grasped him into a tight hug, pressing her face against the emblem on his chest. Peter felt his stomach lurch a little, reminding him that the Hobgoblin was not the only thing he was combating.
“Oh I’m so glad you’re alive!” Angela yelped.
Spidey sighed, and patted her on the back. “I am too, tiger. I thought I told you to get out of here? I did say that, right? More than once? That’s not a concussion talking?”
Angela nodded. “I did! Thank god, too! I was able to get the cops to evacuate this city block by showing them the pics on my digital camera. But I didn’t think anything like this would hap—”
“You did what?” Spider-Man looked down at her. She only glared back in confusion. Spidey laughed, “You evacuated the city block?” Peter couldn’t keep himself from grasping her even more tightly then she was grasping him. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Oh, thank you, Angie! Do you realize how many lives you’ve saved today?”
Angela was smiling wide when they looked at each other again. She said, “Well…all I did was tell the cops, and they sounded the superhuman disaster alarms, and pretty soon, this block looked like George Steinbrenner had bought the Boston Marathon!”
Spider-Man crossed his arms. “You saw thousands of people running out of here, and you didn’t think maybe it was a good idea?”
Angela pursed her lips, ready to give a standard, salty reply, but--
SPIDER-SENSE~!
Spidey gripped Angela at the shoulders, ready to take her with him, but no attack came. Rubble shifted behind him. Spidey spun on his heel, keeping Angela at his back.
The Lizard was standing. He was grasping his head, constantly shaking it, trying to get some sort of bearing. Finally, bracing himself on his hind legs, the Lizard could see Spidey in front of him. Opening his jaw, baring teeth long and pointed, like hypodermic needles, the Lizard erupted a growl from deep within his gut.
“Ssssppyyyyddrrrrrr…”
Spider-Man instinctively reeled two steps back, careful to keep Angela seized tightly with one hand. But the Lizard made no move to attack.
Shaking his snout again, the Lizard merely stumbled to the side, away from Spider-Man. Then, with another howl, the beast bounded up the side of the crater, crushing rubble each time his scaled feet would touch ground. Soon, the Lizard was out of the crater, and out of sight.
Angela asked softly, “You’re not going after him?”
Spidey sighed. “Don’t you think enough damage has been done today?” Inside, Peter was thinking about how exhausted he was. His gut was started to churn again, and the dizziness, while tame, was growing. He was in no condition to fight the Lizard in the first place, much less the Hobgoblin. Not to mention that Betty Brant was probably wondering why he wasn’t back watching his daughter...
But, for some reason, he was still feeling his spider-sense. Peter gulped. He knew he wasn’t going home any time soon.
He heard rockets. He heard a goblin-glider.
“Angela, I know I’m sounding like a broken record,” Spidey turned back to the girl, “but you’ve got boogie like a disco queen off this dance floor.” He tried to let go of her, but realized he wasn’t holding her hand anymore. She was holding his.
Angela was nodding when she looked up at him. “You know, there’s a thin line between a hero and a fool.”
Spider-Man laughed. “Which one am I?”
She was forcing a grin. “I don’t know. But I think you walk the line pretty well.”
“If you don’t get out of here,” Spidey said softly, leaning close, “I think I know which side of that line you’re gonna fall on.”
Angela bit her lip, looked over her shoulder, and then nodded quickly. Without saying anything else to Spider-Man, she ran past him, and up the side of the crater.
His spider-sense was still tingling, so he knew he only had to wait.
Not very long, anyway.
In smoke and the setting sun, blurred by waves of heat, the Hobgoblin was slowly gliding toward him, like he was in no hurry at all. Pellets of water, from broken piping, cascaded along the wind—the illusion of a late summer rain.
The Hobgoblin had his hands across his chest. “This does not surprise me one bit.” His glider slowed as he reached the center of the crater. It hovered there gently. The rockets breathed loudly.
Spider-Man, his stomach ready to pull more somersaults than his legs were at that moment, prepared for an attack. His fists rose. “I’m full of surprises, Hob-slob.”
The Hobgoblin shook his head. “You have long been an unprofitable venture, Spider-Man. Fighting you is not why I’ve lingered in this city.” He pointed a gloved finger toward the wall-crawler. “Don’t think that because I’m leaving you alive that I still won’t find you and murder you.”
Spidey shrugged. “Scaredy-cat!”
The Hobgoblin’s lips curled into a snarl. Spider-Man was ready for anything. Except maybe his--
SPIDER-SENSE~!
—intensifying, searing through his skull, telling him to--
“Jump!” Spider-Man didn’t know where he was jumping to, but he was airborne.
He tucked his legs to him, flipping backward. He could see a bullet rip through the space where he had been standing and explode a small mound of earth under him.
Spider-Man hit the ground a few yards farther away from the Hobgoblin.
Peter tried to keep his mind clear. The vertigo was faint, probably only thanks to the adrenaline pumping through him. Sniper? Is it the police? Would Code: Blue--
SPIDER-SENSE~!
This time, Spider-Man only had to duck. The bullet ripped past him, and just past the Hobgoblin, judging by his reaction, and the explosion of soil at his feet. Hobgoblin rocked back and forth on his glider, keeping his balance, not his composure.
“A sniper?” the Hobgoblin yelled, “Is that what this is all about, Spider-Man? Are you in with Kronas to kill me?”
Spider-Man didn’t say anything. Indeed he was afraid to move with a sniper around. He could only trust his spider-sense, and try to figure out the identity of this shooter. The Hobgoblin seemed to have no connection. But the way he was flying around, he was a prime target. But he mentioned Kronas, Peter noted, and it’s not the first time. What’s his connection to what happened that night at the Harbour?* Who’s this sniper if he ain’t with Hobby? This ain’t Frank Castle’s style--
(*-that was back in issue 42- Bryan)
SPIDER-SENSE~!
Peter darted to his right, as another bullet seared by his ear, and then implanted itself in the wing of the Hobgoblin’s glider.
The effect was as immediate as the Hobgoblin’s scream. Fire, smoke and noise tore along the sunken NYC street. Spider-Man, crouched, missed by the flame and the shrapnel from the flying contraption’s detonation.
The Hobgoblin, however, still screaming, was blasted head-over-heels ten yards into the air. He hit the ground with a crunch, and his screaming ceased. So did any movement from him.
His spider-sense was still ringing but Spidey thought, That was a kill shot! He tried to kill the Hobgoblin! That rules out Code: Blue at least…
As if on cue, Spider-Man heard another sound…
In the distance, a black helicopter whipped around a skyscraper. Spidey barely had time to read the words ‘CODE: BLUE’ emblazoned on the side. At full speed, the copter was over him in seconds. Spidey could still hear the harsh tone over the heavy whipping of the blades.
“Spider-Man! Hobgoblin! We are ordered to use lethal force if you do not cease all violence at once! On the ground! Hands on your head! I repeat—we are ordered to—”
SPIDER-SENSE~!
Spidey ducked again, but this time, the bullet didn’t come anywhere close to him.
Sparks and smoke spewed from the Code: Blue helicopter, like the water from the broken pipeline. Fire followed. The helicopter’s rear rotor was a blur in the smoke, but it was screaming. In less than a second, the entire copter was falling, spinning, to Earth with the grace of one-winged wasp.
Spider-Man knew he had less than a second to act. So he did.
The helicopter had already fallen to its side. But, through the sheer skill of its pilot, or maybe a miracle of physics, it wobbled back upright, before falling to the other side. It flailed another three-hundred-sixty degrees around, and by this time Spider-Man was in the air.
Blades whipped at more than a hundred miles an hour. Spider-Man could feel them inches from his scalp, as he gracefully curved an arc over them.
The helicopter’s cabin was open on both sides. Spider-Man felt his landing whip the copter upright again. Barely half a second had passed, and already the copter was falling to other side again. The pilot had an iron grip on his controls, but when Spider-Man wrenched under his arm, the grip meant nothing. Another policeman sat gripped by fear in the adjacent seat. Spider-Man’s grip was tighter than that too. Holding fast, springing his feet as strongly as he could, Spider-Man darted through the cabin’s opening. Buckles snapped from the seats along with the policemen.
Wobbling more chaotically for another split-second, the helicopter crashed against the sunken street. Rotors and blades bent and screeched, before the copter’s entire frame was engulfed in a fireball that burst, wailed and echoed through the crater.
Spider-Man and his cargo hit the ground another split-second after that. His spider-sense was calmer, so he knew the inferno behind him was in no danger of spreading. Amazingly, he was up the second afterward, judging the policemen.
Probably dislocated their shoulders pulling them out of that helicopter like that, Spidey shook his head, but they’re alive. Oh man, I need to go home…
Peter suddenly felt a lurch in his belly again. He pulled up his mask and turned away from the policemen. It was little more than dry heaves, but what was left in Spider-Man’s stomach was now all over the rubble. Peter pulled his mask back down, and turned back to Code: Blue.
One of the policemen—the rifleman who sat next to the pilot—was unconscious. The pilot himself was dazed, but conscious. He struggled with his helmet, but finally got it off his head.
Lieutenant Marcus Stone, the commanding officer of Code: Blue, shook his head, rubbed his eyes for the smoke. He gazed up at Spider-Man. It was a harsh whisper. “You just saved our lives.”
Spider-Man shrugged. “But think of all the paperwork you have to do now.”
Stone rubbed his sinuses. “What?”
Spider-Man crouched to his knees, grasping Stone’s shoulders. “Nevermind. Listen to me. There’s a sniper on one of the roofs of these buildings. Get your boy out of here. And take him with you.” Spidey thumbed over his shoulder at the Hobgoblin, who was still motionless on the far side of the crater, just past the blazing wreckage. “Lose the key this time, will you?”
Stone coughed. “You just saved our lives.”
“Get over it.” Spidey sighed, standing. “Sniper, remember? I’ll catch you later, Stone.”
Spider-Man bounded with three steps, and he was clear of the crater. One more crouch, and he was airborne. Webbing ejected from his wrists, sticking to the nearest whatever, and he swung toward the sky.
Come on spider-sense. Peter thought, Don’t fail me now. I am sooo ready for this day to be over. Hopefully this maniac with a gun hasn’t targeted anybody new…
Angela Yin was amazed at how abandoned these two blocks had become. New York was such a vast city that usually when the superhuman disaster alarms sounded, only a radius of a few blocks was actually evacuated. She hadn’t seen a single person.
No people, of course. But there was a monster.
Angela was sure to duck behind a car before clicking another picture of the Lizard. It was the Lizard that she had been after today, not the Hobgoblin, not the destruction of a Midtown street, not even Spider-Man. Angela knew, if she gave Jonah anything else, he’d use it as an excuse not to pay her as much.
But the Lizard had clearly taken the brunt of the damage from the collapsing street. She’d seen Spider-Man emerge after using the Lizard as a shield, and was surprised the Lizard could still move at all. He hadn’t gotten far from the crater, and they both had heard another explosion behind them. Angela hoped Spider-Man was okay.
The monster kept sauntering down the abandoned sidewalk, clutching his head. Sometimes, he had to stop and lean upon the walls of buildings for support.
Finally, with Angela spying and clicking only yards away, precariously behind abandoned vehicles, the Lizard reached a dark alleyway. Angela stopped, to spy around the corner. The Lizard had collapsed to his hands and knees.
Can’t get too close now, she thought, he’s cornered. He’ll probably revert to Connors--
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp noise of metal on metal. Angela dropped to her hands and knees now too, to look. There was someone clambering down a fire escape into the alley, right above the Lizard.
Who the hell…?
“Doctor Connors!” the man yelled, confident he wasn’t being heard. “So good to see you made it. I’m sorry I’m late. I was distracted by your friends: the Hobgoblin and Spider-Man.”
Angela could now make out the man, but just barely for the dark of the alley. He was clad from head to toe in black body armor. His ski mask was tight, with odd goggles over his eyes, and a brazenly fake, curly wig over his head.
The Lizard groaned. The noise sounded like, “Ffffoooolllkillllrrrr….”
“Oh, how cute.” Foolkiller chuckled. In one hand, there was an overly large sniper rifle. In the other, a much more functional pistol. Along his body, there were other assortments of guns and knives, from what Angela could see. Foolkiller dropped the rifle, like it was a banana peel, and cocked the pistol.
“Do you remember what I told you when we met in the precinct station?*” Foolkiller asked the Lizard. He didn’t get a reply, just another low groan, as the Lizard struggled to move. Foolkiller laughed and said, “You’ve proven yourself to be a fool. And you know the best part? I didn’t even inject you with your formula, Doctor Connors. It was only a placebo! Your own foolish mind turned you into this creature!”
(*- issue 43- Bryan)
Angela wasn’t stupid. Connors had been arrested for the murder of his colleague at Empire State University.* This Foolkiller must’ve been behind that murder too! Just to unleash the Lizard on the city! Now he was gonna kill him!
(*- the Annual 2007 – Bryan)
The Foolkiller raised his gun, and pressed the barrel against the scalp of the disoriented monster in front of him. “These bullets will have no problem piercing your skin, Doctor. Now, you join your friend Doctor Wiles in Hell.”
Angela knew what she had to do. “No way!” She yelled.
She leapt to her feet, bringing her camera to her eyes. The Foolkiller and the Lizard were both much closer than she had thought. With the press of a button, the camera burst a flash that illuminated the alley.
“Ah!” the Foolkiller dropped both his head and his gun. He pulled the goggles off his eyes. “Damn!”
Angela didn’t know why she hadn’t started running. The Foolkiller rubbed his eyes, and then saw his assailant. The Lizard had started to move a bit more next to him.
“Bitch.” The word echoed through the alley. The gun rose again.
Suddenly the gun was whipped through the air. “Tsk! Such profanity!” Angela had recognized the webbing, and the sarcastic tone, of Spider-Man.
Red and blue flashed past her, and Spider-Man unwound from a tight flip. Before he landed in the alley, he landed a kick to the Foolkiller’s face. The killer was sent flying backward, hard into a dumpster.
Spider-Man looked over his shoulder at her. “You’re becoming a bad habit.”
Angela smiled, raised her camera again.
Spider-Man sized up the Lizard, who was still dazed, and then looked over to the Foolkiller. After taking a few seconds to judge him, and his weaponry, Spidey said, “Wait—I know you! You’re the one Doc Connors was telling me about, aren’t you? You’re the one that assaulted Jonah! You’re the new Foolkiller, aren’t you?”
Foolkiller was still conscious, and he glared at Spider-Man from behind his ski mask. “It is not a name. It is a purpose.” He spat at Spider-Man. “I hate you.”
Spider-Man didn’t waste any time. He rushed over to Foolkiller, grabbing the ski mask. “I’ll wear the mask around here, buddy.” He pulled the ski mask.
Then, dropped it. Spider-Man couldn’t believe who he was facing.
The face was familiar. It was one that Spider-Man thought he’d never see again.
“No…” Peter whispered, “you’re not…Russ Anderson?”
Tears streamed down the Foolkiller’s face. In the dark of the alleyway, Spider-Man could swear he was staring into the mirror image of a man Peter had once called friend. Russ Anderson was a member of the NYPD, sent to investigate the Rose Goblin. Anderson was forced to leave the NYPD in disgrace, after taking the fall for Spider-Man’s mistake.
But Spidey peered closer…“No,” Peter shook his head, “you’re not Russ. You’re younger…”
SPIDER-SENSE~!
The Foolkiller’s hand went like a flash to his vest, yanking at a gun there. “Don’t pretend like you knew my father!”
“No!” Spidey instinctively raised his wrists at the gun. Nothing! No webbing! Empty!
Foolkiller raised the gun at Spider-Man.
“RRRRAAAHHRRR!”
The Lizard rushed past Spider-Man, diving toward the Foolkiller, before sinking his teeth deep into Foolkiller’s shoulder. There was a burst of blood, and a snap of flesh and bone. The gun skewed direction, and fired wildly, erratic, into the alley past Spider-Man.
The Foolkiller screamed.
Spider-Man already had his hands on the Lizard. He pulled as hard as he could, ripping the Lizard off the Foolkiller, sending the monster right over his shoulder. Spider-Man spun on his heels, ready for the Lizard.
But the Lizard was slow to move again. He struggled to get back on his hind feet. The beast looked back at Spider-Man, gritting his needle-teeth. Shaking his snout again, the Lizard did not attack. He merely broke into a run, out of the alley, away from Spider-Man, disappearing around the corner…after passing Angela Yin…
“Oh no…” Peter’s eyes were wide behind his mask.
Angela Yin lay motionless, face down, on the concrete. Her digital camera was inches from her sprawled fingertips. Something dark—something that could only be blood—spread slowly from under her belly along the cold ground.
“No! Angela!” Peter rushed to her.
He felt her pulse. She was still alive!
Spider-Man grasped her tightly, trying to pick her up, and he felt her warm blood soak against his costume. Peter knew he had no webbing. He had to run. But where could he go? Where could he take her? What had happened? Spider-Man remembered the wild shot the Foolkiller had taken when the Lizard had attacked. Peter didn’t even bother to look back at the injured Foolkiller in the alley.
This girl, who had only wanted to take his picture, was seconds from death, if Spider-Man didn’t get her help. How many times had he saved her life today? How many times had he told her to get to safety? Spider-Man ran up walls, over windows, bounding along roofs as fast as he could. All the while, he pressed Angela Yin tighter to his chest, hoping to feel her heart still beating.
Angela…not you too…please Angela, hang on, please, hang on, for me…
Spider-Man was soon lost in the New York skyline.
The Foolkiller was still conscious, still alive. Blood poured from the gaping tear in his shoulder. But he moved.
NEXT ISSUE: The final showdown with the Foolkiller! Guest-starring: The Night Nurses!