As the sun dropped below the horizon, Peter donned the spider suit once more. In the old days, when wracked by pain and forced to pursue one foe or another, Mary Jane had always protested. Now she wished him luck. Lifting the bottom of his mask, he kissed her lightly. Not a word was spoken as he vanished down the sewer tunnel on a ten-speed bicycle.
Abandoning the bike under the garage, he climbed out among the limousines. Last night he had been careless, unprepared for the goblin’s Carnage surprise. Tonight would be different. He was not hunting the Green Goblin, but rather someone else.
Earlier in the day, Carl tried to contact John Jameson. The number was no longer in service. Now Spider-Man planned to locate him the old-fashioned way: threats and fear.
Clouds roiled as light drizzle fell. He swung along the side streets. Few bystanders caught sight of him. Those that had, failed to realize until he was blocks away. Knowing that deregulators would be contacted, he sped up.
Alighting atop the Daily Bugle building, he felt a strange sensation of homecoming. Momentarily, he paused to enjoy it in the pelting rain. Some friends still worked in the offices below. He wondered how many typed their last-minute entries before going to press. Missing the fast-moving atmosphere of the newsroom, he hoped not to be plastered unmasked on the front page.
From the northern ledge, he stared out across the city. He had seen this view countless times in the past and had taken it for granted. Pushing aside the nostalgia, he focused on his daughter.
A new skyscraper stood across the street. Fifteen years ago, the former office building had been victim to a terrorist’s bomb. From its ashes rose the magnificent Phoenix Tower. Spider-Man launched a web line to it. Within seconds he adhered to its rain slick surface. Like his namesake, he scurried between windows as he made his way up, careful not to slip.
He climbed onto the balcony connected to the top penthouse. Stealthily he approached the double glass doors. Peeking around the edge of elegant red curtains, he observed an old man planted in a recliner across from a monolithic flat panel. Though wrinkles and age wore on him, Spider-Man recognized the stern jaw, patented crew cut, and burning cigar of J. Jonah Jameson.
He had to be quick and not give Jonah a chance to call for help. Trying the door, he was surprised to find it locked. Even on the top floor he locks his balcony!
With the aid of a cane, Jonah stood and approached. Spider-Man leapt to the shadows. He heard the lock click and contemplated leaping down and snatching JJJ, but waited. A door squeaked as it opened. The cane clicked on the concrete deck as Jonah ambled to the edge. Abruptly he spun and looked up.
“You can come down now,” his hoarse voice wheezed. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Spider-Man poked his head out of the dark and glared. Jonah was much thinner than he had remembered. “How did you know?”
“I knew one day you’d come back and gloat after seeing the mockery of justice I helped create.” He coughed harshly, spitting a mouthful of phlegm to the side. “I always knew these things would kill me.” He inhaled on the cigar and blew a billow of smoke into the rain. Pausing a second, he waited for a snide comment. When none came, he asked, “Are you coming down or are you planning on soaking yourself?” Without looking back, he entered the penthouse and left the door open.
Spider-Man jumped down to the balcony. He searched the entrance for an electrical discharge device and saw no security system at all. Cautiously he looked just inside the door. No spider slayers lay in wait. Concentrating on his spider sense, not a peep registered.
“Hurry up!” Jonah shouted, then coughed from the strain on his throat. “A roving camera might pick you up and then I’ll die in jail for harboring a fugitive.”
“What’s gotten into you?” Spider-Man asked stepping inside, still wary, ready to bolt back out into the rain.
“You’re smarter than that, damn it. The big C! Cancer’s eating my throat and lungs. Six months, tops.”
“Not that,” Spider-Man replied. A twinge of sadness swelled over his longtime thorn-in-the-side’s revelation. “Why are you being cordial?”
“I always knew you’d come and rub my face in the Deregulation Committee. My vendetta against you drove me to help birth that corrupt organization. By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“No?” Jonah doubted.
“I need your help?”
“My help?” the newspaperman chuckled. “My editorials shredded you. You took the spotlight away from my son during one of your first appearances. I never forgave you for that. I wanted all superheroes gone. Now look at the society in which we live. Petty crime is higher than ever. Police are outnumbered. And the Deregulation Committee is corrupt. What can I possibly do to help you?”
“Save my daughter.”
Jonah’s bushy eyebrows rose.
“I need to find John. I’ve heard he has something I need that can help save my daughter’s life.”
“How do I know you’re not a tool of the deregulators?”
“You know I’m not.”
“Yeah, I know.” Jonah lowered his head. Looking back up, a devious light burned in his eyes. “If I tell you what you want, what will you do for me?”
“Anything.” Anguish rose in Spider-Man’s voice. “For my girl I’ll risk anything.”
His pain burned through to Jonah’s soul. The devilish gleam in his eyes faded. “I’m constantly monitored by deregulators in hopes I might lead them to my son. That’s why I’ve had every type of security and pirateable device removed. Instead I’ve installed dampeners to prevent anyone outside from listening in. Before I tell you, answer me one question.”
“Okay.” I know he’s going to ask for my secret identity.
“How were you planning to get the information if I wasn’t giving it willingly?”
“Huh?” He was stunned. “I… I guess, honestly, I was going to take you to the roof and threaten to drop you or swing around town with you under one arm until you cracked.”
Jonah smiled. “It would have been fun.” Then a serious look crossed his face. “I’m putting John’s life in your hands.”
“Why are you doing this for me?” Spider-Man questioned.
“I really don’t know. Perhaps to clear my conscience or make amends for the wrongs I’ve done. You weren’t as bad as I made you out. If I had opened my eyes, looked past my anger and jealousy, I’d have a found a man worthy to be a hero.”
Jonah’s sincerity touched Spider-Man. If Jonah and I can come terms, anything’s possible. “Before you tell me, there’s something you should know.” Spider-Man started to pull the top of his mask.
“No,” Jonah stopped him. “As long as one mystery remains, I might have enough strength to hang on longer than six months. I’ve always wondered who you were, how you became Spider-Man, and what drove you. I have my suspicions, but right now I don’t want to know. Rescue your daughter. You can find John in the ransacked apartment complex, the High Horse, on 59th across from the old Bloomindales.”
“Thank you, Jonah,” he choked. “I’ll never forget you.” Backing out onto the balcony, he shot a web line across to the Bugle. From the penthouse, he thought he heard Jonah respond, “Good luck, Peter.”
#
While Spider-Man searched for the former astronaut, Veronica hacked into the Pym Labs’ network and managed to download employee lists for the past five years. She even found every college intern and contractor for the last three. Next, she copied files of visitors and repairmen. The hard part done, she backed out of the system and opened its web page. From there she obtained the names of board members and company representatives.
#
Norman Osborn climbed out of the vat filled with the greenish solution. The mixture had rejuvenated him, raised his goblin might, as well as the devious part of his mind. Toweling off, he put on his costume. After feeding his prisoners, he removed the purple and green suit in lieu of slacks and a T-shirt. The time had arrived to confront Cletus Kasady.
Thoughts raced to his scheme’s conception. When the Vault had been destroyed, the concussive force of the explosion had broken the bond that Kasady held with the symbiote. Near death, he was placed in a cryotube to be studied at a later date for aftereffects of his exposure. Years passed and he was never revived, deemed too dangerous in case he remerged with the creature. While perusing the system as a board member, Norman discovered confidential files and easily cracked the codes, finding out about the symbiote as well as Kasady’s frozen chamber. In his own company, he developed a vaccine to push the bacterial symbiote from a human’s endocrine system. He contemplated joining with the creature himself, but feared it might override his persona and never allow a chance to utilize his special antibiotic. He needed a pawn, in case Kasady could not be revived. What better choice than his enemy’s own child? But if the time came to unite the symbiote with its original host, he needed a means of control. Over the course of months, he injected hypnotic chemicals of his own design into Kasady’s cryocapsule. Now he planned to feed on the fruits of his labors.
Unlocking Kasady’s door, he stepped into the darkened room and said, “Lights.”
None illuminated. Flicking the override switch, black remained. He contemplated retrieving his mask for its ocular capabilities, but did not. Instead, he shut the door and relocked it with his key.
“Mr. Kasady,” he called. “Cletus?”
He heard a rustle on the far side of the room, past the bed, and headed towards it. After a rush of footsteps, Kasady attempted to tackle him. Norman simply gripped Cletus’s arm, twisted it around, and forced his guest to the floor.
“Bastard!” Kasady grunted. “You promised revenge against Spider-Man, but kept me prisoner. If I had my symbiote, you’d be dead!”
“What if I could rejoin you with your other?” Norman enticed. Capturing Kasady’s attention, he released him.
“It’s still alive?”
“Very much so. I’ve isolated you for your own protection. After all, you were in suspended animation for over twenty years. You needed your strength back before coming into contact with any germs.”
“I want to be rejoined,” he demanded. “Now!”
Norman’s eyes adjusted to the low light. Kasady crouched just out of reach, slipping back behind the bed.
“You can’t. Well, not yet. Testing’s revealed that the symbiote is an advanced bacterial life form. In your condition, you might not survive. Currently, it’s merged with someone else. I can reverse the process, but first, I must run tests to be certain you’re ready.”
The lamp on the nightstand flicked on, Cletus next to it. “Anything to be reborn.”
Osborn smiled. His meddling with the cryotube made Kasady more susceptible to his lies. Cletus could become Carnage at this moment. His body had previously accepted the symbiote as part of its own and would not deal with it as an infection. Norman’s tests were actually injections of a toxin used in brainwashing.
#
Spider-Man landed on the roof of the crumbling tenement. Cautiously, he slithered down the side, peering in windows as he passed. Most were shattered and garbage filled the rooms. Did JJJ tell me the truth? He seemed so sincere. At the bottom, he crawled inside.
The High Horse was demolished. Walls were torn down and filthy carpet was ripped out in chunks. A wino’s bed filled one corner. The stench of urine emanated from another. Spider-Man wandered through the apartment and out in the hall; the whole complex resembled condemned conditions. Can John really live here? Spider sense tingled faintly. Recalling his former hero days, a weak warning usually signified that he was being watched. On guard, he continued through the building’s first level.
“Hello. Is anyone here?”
Nobody answered. After searching another shambled room, he returned to the main hall.
At a dilapidated staircase, a masculine voice ordered, “Turn around real slow and tell me why you’re here.”
The voice sounded familiar. Spider-Man heeded the warning. A flashlight beam blinded him from the shadows. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Can you be more specific?” the man inquired, a sarcastic tone accentuating the question.
That clinched it. In high school Peter Parker had been on the tale end of that tone many times. After graduation, that same voice lost its malevolence and became friendly.
“Flash?”
“You remember me?” he confirmed, lowering the flashlight’s beam. “How’d you find this place?”
“Believe it or not, Jonah Jameson.”
“Jonah? Who are you looking for?”
“His son, John. I’ve heard he has the Fantastic Four’s sonic gun.”
“Even if I believe you’re Spider-Man and if I knew where John was, what do you need the gun for?”
“My daughter’s been infected by the Carnage symbiote. I need the gun to stun it so that I can get a sample. I’ve discovered a way to break its bond.”
Nearly convinced, Flash still had to be sure. “How do I know you’re telling the truth and not some deregulator in disguise?”
“I’ve known you for years, even before I received my powers.” Spider-Man’s hand rose to the top of his head. “In my civilian identity, we used to be enemies and one day became friends.” He pulled the mask off.
Flask quivered as he beamed the light on his idol’s face. He gawked for several seconds, shocked.
“Pete?”
“It’s always been me. I didn’t know if Felicia told you or…”
“No,” he interrupted. “She never did.”
“That’s not all.” Peter put his mask back on. “The Green Goblin is back, too. I think it’s Harry.”
“But he died while fighting Spi… you.” He had a hard time to keep from staring.
“Liz had his grave exhumed. He wasn’t in it.”
Flash’s eyes widened. Reason reasserted itself as his hero worship transformed back to what made him a deregulator prize.
Spider-Man continued, “He has some warped vendetta against me and he’s taking it out on my family. He already tried to blow up the plane my son was on, but I stopped it. Last night I found out about my daughter.”
“Wait a minute,” Flash proclaimed. “I just saw one of your daughters two nights ago. She was disguised, but I knew I recognized her. Mary Anna, right?” Spider-Man nodded. “That means Christina is infected.” Spider-Man nodded again. “Follow me.”
Spider-Man kept close behind as Flash walked through several littered rooms. In a former bedroom, he stomped a melody outside a double closet. The closet floor creaked open, revealing a lighted stairwell. Flash waved at two armed guards and he and Spider-Man descended. After twenty steps, sloping ground replaced the stairs and tunneled into the earth. At the bottom, the passage opened into a huge underground cavern with many intersecting routes carved into the stone. They had arrived in the old Morlock tunnels, a maze of passageways where unwanted mutants had once lived.
People scattered about the chamber turned their attention to the masked man. His spider sense ignited just as a growl raged behind him. He leapt forward, but was too slow. Claws raked his back. Though his costume was resistant to tears, the flesh underneath was not. He grit his teeth to hold back the pain. Spinning around, he saw the Black Cat dance into the shadows.
Flash yelled, “Felicia! No!” as Spider-Man fired a burst of webbing.
She dodged, renewing her attack. “Sloppy, Spider,” she sneered, flailing attached metal claws at his face.
He ducked to the ground and rolled. Residents of the underground cavern raced to their mistress’ aid, but Flash waved them off, still shouting for his wife to stop.
“You ran out on us!” she screamed. “When we needed you most you deserted us! Some of us died! How could you?”
She lunged. He dodged and kicked her in the back, forcing her down. He fired more webbing, but as soon as she hit the ground, she rolled out of its way.
“You won’t snare me that easily. I’ve honed my powers for years, training newcomers to the cause even after you left. You’re sloppy, unpracticed, while I’ve never been better.”
Her words flowed into Spider-Man’s head. His patented snappy patter strayed as he concentrated on stopping her deadly attack.
“Cat got your tongue, Spider?”
She feigned left, then swept his legs out from under him. Webbing the wall, he snapped himself away in time to avoid her lethal claws. Unready for his maneuver, she crashed to the floor. Spider-Man snagged one of her legs to the ground with a web burst. As she sliced through it, he fired a barrage and webbed both of her hands down. She struggled to pull free but could not. He leapt from the wall and approached her.
“Easy.” Flash jumped in front, defending his wife.
“I’m not going to hurt her.”
He knelt next to her. Flash hovered protectively.
“Go ahead,” Felicia snarled. “Say it. Croon!”
“That’s not it,” Spider-Man soothed, laying a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, struggling to free herself. “Felicia, I didn’t desert. My powers began fading and it almost killed me. For heaven’s sake, my spider sense doesn’t work anymore, I have trouble sticking, and my super strength isn’t all that super. I had responsibilities to my family, my three children, to stay alive!”
Some of the hatred fled the Black Cat’s eyes. “I… I didn’t know.”
Spider-Man stepped back. “Cut her loose.”
Flash sliced through the webbing with a survival knife. Felicia stood up and removed the clawed wrist gauntlets.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’ve had all this anger built up since you disappeared. You didn’t even say bye. I looked up to you. I thought you died until I found out you lived in Virginia. That really hurt.”
“About as much as my back,” Spider-Man winced.
Felicia and Flash led him to a small rock chamber and closed its door. Spider-Man removed his mask and costume top. Felicia inspected the slices while Flash retrieved a first aid kit from a cabinet. The wounds weren’t that deep, not requiring stitches. As they cleaned the slashes, Peter told them everything. Felicia was impressed with Mary Anna’s work. She foresaw a merging between their organizations. After the story, Flash excused himself, leaving Peter alone with his wife.
“I wish you would have come to me.” She brushed his cheek.
“I was embarrassed, afraid,” he responded, looking down at his feet. “I didn’t want anyone to know. Though I ended my career as Spider-Man, I still helped whenever I could. A foiled robbery here, a busted mugging there. It wasn’t much, but it helped me. You don’t know how much I’ve yearned to put on the tights again and take to the air. The exhilaration, the adrenaline high. I missed it, but I knew that with my powers going, I’d be missed even more by my family.”
“I misjudged you, Peter. Perhaps some good can come out of this.”
As if on cue, Flash came back and extended the sonic gun. “Here. Let’s go save your daughter.”
“Not us, old friend,” Peter said, pulling his costume back on. “She’s my responsibility and I don’t want anyone else hurt; however, I appreciate the offer. If I do need to contact you, how can I?”
Flash gave him his private number. Then he and Felicia escorted him back to the derelict building.
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Not Yet Published (but I am trying) 