Peter stood at the window facing the street and peered out into the night. The moon glistened hazily through the veil of pollution. Stars were invisible.
Something about the night, about this being New York, tugged at him. He felt a kinship with the Big Apple, a bond that had been forged many years ago and never broken. The city beckoned.
Peter turned from the window and stared at his wife huddled in bed. He focused on her, breaking the city’s hypnotic spell. It was difficult. He never realized the hold that this city, his city, instilled in him. He never realized just how much he missed being Spider-Man.
The far-off sound of gunfire brought him back to the window. On the sidewalk below, guards for Safehouse posed as bums, beggars, and prostitutes. They protected the stronghold and held Carl’s beliefs as vehemently as he did. Peter recalled a mantra from his youth – With great power comes great responsibility. Any time that the helpless needed aid, he had been there. Some were more afraid of him than the criminals he had saved them from. Others were more appreciative than he thought reasonable, like Carl. His daughter’s boyfriend risked his life just as Spider-Man had done all those years ago. Carl believed in ideals and strove in his own way to make the world a better, safer place. Mary Anna aided him. She was more like him than he thought. Peter admired them both.
He pressed his hand to the window. The cool chill tingled through. The city pulled him. He backed away. The distance did not block out the night’s siren song. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Suppressing his desire, he tried to turn away but was mesmerized by the moon’s glow.
“Go,” a voice sounded from behind.
He whirled around. Mary Jane leaned up an elbow. “Go,” she repeated.
“How long have you been awake?” Peter asked.
“I’ve waited for you to come to bed for the last thirty minutes. I saw it in your eyes earlier. You can’t deny your destiny. Perhaps I’ve been unfaithful by restraining you.”
“I needed to stay away,” he affirmed. “I had a responsibility to you and the kids, especially when my spider sense began to fail. Don’t ever feel like you’ve held me back. I’ve held myself back.”
“Peter, you need to go. You haven’t been this tossy-turny since before we moved away. You have a lot on your mind and haven’t had these pressures in a long time. Webswinging always kept you at ease and helped you think. You need that, Peter. You need to prepare in your own way for the confrontation with the goblin. Now go. Don’t say a word. Just go.”
Stripping from his nightshirt, Peter slipped on his costume. The city’s call grew louder, deafening in the stillness of the room. He opened the window facing the alley. Glancing back at MJ, he whispered, “I love you,” and leapt out into the embracing night.
Spider-Man scurried up the opposite wall of the alley and headed for the roof. Standing at the precipice, he surveyed the city. Lights extended in all directions. Oblivious people passed below in the streets. Eyeing the Empire State Building, he shot a strand of webbing across the street and swung off.
The air brushing his body was like a long-lost friend. He was free once more, unrestrained from the trappings of the Deregulation Committee. The world needed heroes. Whether it wanted him or not, Spider-Man was back.
The adrenaline rush of swinging through the New York night heightened his senses. A muffled cry echoed from an alley below. Without hesitation, Spider-Man swung to the rescue.
Times might have changed, but a thug was still a thug. The guy had jolted a prostitute with a handheld electroshock device after watching her return from an hour-long trip to a hotel. She lay on the ground, afflicted with partial paralysis.
Spider-Man dropped out of the shadows. He snuck up behind the thief and tapped his shoulder. His old snappy patter returned. “Isn’t this a violation of electrical ordinance?”
The robber spun around. The costume startled him for a second. He started to raise the taser, but never had the chance. Spider-Man knocked him into the far wall and webbed him to it unconscious. He then helped the woman to her feet after the weapon’s effects wore off.
“Why’d you help?” she asked, cringing away. “I thought you were a bad guy.”
“I’m not. I help because I can. But you wouldn’t have needed any if you weren’t hooking in the first place.”
“Buzz off,” the woman growled. “I don’t need your crap!”
The woman was younger than she appeared. The short skirt, bare mid-riff, and make-up fooled him. “How old are you?”
“None of your damn business! Now get the hell out of here or I’ll call the deregs to get your ass.”
“You don’t have to live like this. There’s always something better.” He leapt ten feet up the wall. “Think about that. Next time I might not be around and you can really get hurt.”
He scampered off in pursuit of another in need. The teenage prostitute returned to the corner and showed more leg. Within minutes another car picked her up.
“Look!” Carl pointed out his bedroom window. Mary Anna joined him, following his finger. Spider-Man swung into an alley on the far side of the street.
“Even though he told me, I still can’t believe it.” Mary Anna wrapped her arms around Carl’s waist. “My father, Spider-Man. When this is over, I want to have a long talk with him. How could he and Mom have hidden it from me?”
“He was protecting you,” Carl answered. “Like he is now. It’s been a long time since anyone heard from Spider-Man. It took your sister’s kidnapping to pull him out of retirement. When I’m his age, I hope that I’ve accomplished one quarter of what he has.”
“I’m sure you will.” Mary Anna kissed his cheek. “But in order to accomplish more, we’ve got to get going soon. The pick-up’s at 1.”
“You’re right.” He returned the kiss. “Let’s go.”
Mary Anna wore a black leather miniskirt and matching jacket. Her hair was pulled to one side and straggled down into her face. Caked on make-up further obscured her identity. She loved Carl and wanted involved in all aspects of his life. The problem was that a high-profile model could not be identified undertaking less than legal activities. She disguised herself the best she could short of a mask.
Carl wore plain jeans and a leather jacket of his own. Sophisticated thieving technology as well as a myriad of weapons lined his pockets. A pair of dark, multidirectional glasses rested on his nose. He took Mary Anna’s hand and led her from their room down a narrow staircase to a hidden basement. Sliding a panel away, they entered an old section of the unused sewage system.
#
Eugene “Flash” Thompson drove a box truck. Two men armed with machine guns accompanied him. Though thirty years their senior, Flash had earned the respect of the younger guys. Tonight, they planned to score a boost in their war against injustice.
Twenty years ago, Flash had reunited with his long-time flame, Felicia Hardy, formerly known as the Black Cat. Six months later, they were married. Both believed that the world was not a safe place to raise children. Ever since, they fought their own government and various establishments that allowed the criminal expansion.
Outraged when the Deregulation Committee instituted martial law against beings with super powers, he and Felicia retreated and formed their own underground movement. His wife had never been deregulated and still exhibited heightened agility, acrobatics, and balance. The Committee levied a heavy price against her.
From their hidden home, they had watched the news earlier in the day. Flash was surprised to see Spider-Man making headlines. With Captain America’s face off in England, he thought that Spider-Man’s return was a sign. Felicia disagreed. She believed Spider-Man was a coward and retreated when the going got tough. She wanted no part of him. Flash knew that the Black Cat had been romantically involved with the webslinger, but never felt that type of loathing until his reappearance. She clarified, saying that he had been a wonderful, caring man, but quit his responsibilities. She had looked up to him, but now looked down. He had pressured her for his identity, but she refused to reveal it.
Flash steered along the docks on the waterfront. Another vehicle blinked its lights. His two passengers exited and scanned the area with infrared and motion detectors. Only rats and other rodents registered. Flash climbed out and approached the car.
The driver’s door opened and former astronaut John Jameson stepped out. His appearances in public were as limited as Flash’s. John was wanted by the law for different reasons than Flash. On one of his trips to the moon, John returned with a moonstone that grafted itself to his flesh, turning him into the bestial Man-Wolf. Even though he had been cured of this affliction, the deregulators apprehended him. Tests revealed that his system was still plagued with one hundred arteries that the moonstone had grown to connect itself. Painful operations could remove the strings one at a time. When all were removed, he would need placed on life support and dialysis for the rest of his life.
His father, J. Jonah Jameson, former publisher of the Daily Bugle, had helped push legislation that led to the Deregulation Committee. After the committee was established, Jonah realized it had been delegated too much power. He skewed editorials to help take away its might. Instead of having him terminated, the corrupt committee respected one of its leading forefathers and purchased the paper outright, forcing him into retirement. Needless to say, Jonah was not pleased. Going against everything he stood for, he hired a crack team of commandos to rescue John before his operations proceeded.
John Jameson had escaped after only seven strands had been extracted. Medication was required to suppress the pain. Sometimes in the cold his joints froze up and he was unable to maneuver well. Though tonight was chilly, he felt little stiffness.
“Good to see you, Flash,” he greeted his partner. “What are we getting tonight?”
“The decloaker. It’s supposed to pick up hidden transmissions and decode them. When the circuits are reversed, it emanates a field of static around any object, rendering it invisible to any form of modern surveillance except the decloaker itself.”
“Are you sure it’ll work?” John asked. “Can we trust the people who are supplying it? What if it’s a set-up?”
“You know me.” Flash smiled. “I always have a back-up plan.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Patience, old friend. If it’s needed, we’re perfectly safe. Snipers are lining the area and scuba gear is attached to the underside of the wharf if we have to make a break for it. The mini-sub’s parked at the bottom of the harbor for a clean getaway.”
John chuckled. His laugh caught in his throat and he gagged. Coughing, he pulled a bottle of pills from his trench coat, dry swallowing two.
Though he was six years older than Flash, the difference looked much more. Flash had little gray in his hair and the athletics from his youth had hardened his body. John on the other hand had deteriorated. At 67, what little remaining hair was gray. His physique had withered under the deregulators’ hold. His brain, however, was keen as ever. Though Flash was no rocket scientist, John trusted him with his life. His military skills and strategies were sound. He was the perfect man from their generation to recruit and train newcomers to the cause.
A black limousine rolled onto the dock. The engine cut off and two people climbed out. A shapely woman dressed in leather accompanied a taller, dark-haired man. Black glasses concealed his eyes. John grabbed a briefcase from the front seat and he and Flash approached them. They met halfway between the cars.
“Let’s have a look.” Carl gestured to the briefcase, his other hand in his pocket, resting on a detonator in case of a double-cross. One push and high frequency sonics would erupt from various parts of the wharf, rendering all into a state of unbalanced equilibrium. Knowing of the meeting site ahead of time, employees of Carl had hidden the circuitry earlier in the day. Carl and Mary Anna wore ear protection adjusted to the right frequency. If not configured correctly, most other protective devices were worthless.
John popped the snaps on the suitcase. Money filled half of it. The other half contained information about the underground and the Deregulation Committee. “Now you.”
Mary Anna withdrew a computer chip from her halter. Carl nodded and she passed it to Flash. John handed over the briefcase.
“How did you come across this piece of hardware?” Flash asked.
“From one of many resources,” Carl answered.
“Well,” Flash continued. “How do we know it even works? We don’t know you.”
“Nor we you,” Carl countered. “Both our affiliations shy away from the public eye, striving towards the same goal. One day we might join as allies, but for now we must err to the side of caution. I leave you with this. My following isn’t as large as I’d like, but we do have soldiers in many walks of life. Maybe even some in Osborn Industries.”
“You got this from Osborn?” Flash was surprised. Osborn Industries was in the forefront of the business world. Most nations vied for its technology.
“That’s my secret.” Without answering, Carl and Mary Anna turned to leave.
The two guards that accompanied Flash raised their guns. Carl saw them from his computer-enhanced glasses. His finger exerted pressure on the button in his pocket. He released as Flash waved for them to lower their weapons. He and Mary Anna hopped back in the limo and drove off.
“We should have questioned them more,” John remarked. “We could have prevented them from leaving and found out what we needed.”
“I don’t know if we could have. Anyway, for some reason I trust them. And that girl. She looked familiar. I’ll remember sometime. Right now, we need to change the Underground’s front. They found us and made the offer to exchange. If they can find us, so can others. I want the whole operation moved by sunrise.”
“I’ll see to it.” John shook Flash’s hand, climbed into his car, and drove off to make the necessary arrangements.
#
Spider-Man circled the city on his way back to Safehouse. Less people roamed the streets than when he first had swung into the night. The city was in a state of flux, the time between night owls relinquishing their reign and everyday citizens. During the evening he had stopped two muggings and a carjacking. He felt at peace, at least until when he removed his mask and became Peter Parker again, with all the worries of a father and a lost child.
A flashlight beam caught his attention as he swung past an adjacent window. Releasing the web line, he landed on the building’s wall. He crawled to the window and peered inside. A man crouched behind a desk and flipped through a floor-mounted safe.
Spider-Man reached for the window when he started to slip. While moving he was fine, but when he stopped, his natural adhering ability did not function well. He pushed off from the building, spun, and fired a web line above the window. He climbed up the strand and tested the window. It was unlocked, but rattled as he raised it.
The sound caught the criminal’s attention. Seeing Spider-Man, the man took off. As Spider-Man lifted the glass past ten inches, alarms echoed from inside and the window locked in place. He shot two bursts of webbing at the fleeing robber, but the crook made the hall and darted around a corner.
Thinking he had foiled the robbery, Spider-Man launched himself back into the night. Wind whipped past his face as he fell towards the street below. Before impact, he discharged a strand of webbing from each hand. The web stretched to its limit and, like a bungy jumper, snapped him back up. Landing on a rooftop, he ran to the opposite side and somersaulted to the next building. Keeping to the shadows, he headed for Safehouse.
#
Mary Jane tossed and turned. She not only had to worry about Chrissy, but her husband as well. Several times over the last few hours she heard sounds from outside and raced to the window to see if it was Peter. Finally, she lulled into a light slumber. Ten minutes passed before she awakened and felt next to her. Peter was still gone. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the glowing digits of the alarm clock. She yanked its cord from the wall. That didn’t help either.
A squeak from the alleyway window told her that Peter was back. She feigned sleep as he rustled in the darkness, not wanting him to know how much she had worried.
He slid into bed and cradled her against his chest. She felt his warmth, his skin, lightly moistened with perspiration, and his beating heart beneath. She sensed his contentment, his relief from webswinging, but knew it would not last. Soon he would need to confront the demon that stole their daughter. Then all of his experience might not be enough. She shivered for a moment before yielding to heavy eyelids.
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Not Yet Published (but I am trying) 