There was something immensely satisfying about smoke bombs Quentin Beck decided. He smirked to himself as the sun flashed off a No Smoking sign before it detonated.
Maybe it was the muffled impact of the grenade cracking open. Maybe it was the rush of the smoke escaping from the various bombs concealed around the bank. Maybe it was the release of the all that tension he'd felt over the weeks of casing the Midtown Bank, disguising himself as a maintenance worker (he'd like to think Chameleon would have been proud but he knew his old boss better than that) and planting the bombs, downloading the Tinkerer's computer virus to get those vault codes.
Maybe it was just the fact it was his own custom made green smoke pouring into the place just for him. After all the only thing more important than good timing was the right atmosphere. And Mysterio was all about the right atmosphere.
"Tibi gratias agimus quod nihil fumas!" It wasn't needed, and in truth all the voice activation code did was create a jet of smoke that dispersed from his cape and trailed in his wake, but it added to the illusion that he was forming out of the mist. Hey, if you had super powers (of a sort) then you flaunted them. Case in point; he struck a Darth Vader pose.
"Cower now, brief mortals, for it is I, Mysterio, master of the mystic arts!"
One of the many back guards (there was a lot more work in the security sector since the rise of the super criminal) levelled his piece directly at Mysterio's chest where the kevlar vest was hidden as his colleagues flanked him.
"Hold it right there, buddy!"
"Insolent lackey! Kneel in the presence of your betters! Dormite!"
The acoustics of his helmet's voice amplifier sounded a little off. He'd have to have Phineas check that out. It had the desired effect though: every guard, cashier and civilian in the place slumped to their knees. He'd have to wait for the nerve gas and the release mechanism to recharge, but that dose had been strong enough to take out the Rhino. He should have plenty of time before the police arrived. A pity. He'd really been looking forward to using the robot.
"Excuse me sir, but I'm looking for Carnegie Hall. Would you happen to know the way? Been wanting to try this dance move all day."
The slight surge of excitement Mysterio experienced abated somewhat as he spun around to have Spider-Man's boots connect with his chest, sending him skidding into a potted plant. He stumbled upright, trying not to trip over the cape.
Spider-Man flipped bonelessly up to the ceiling, trying to keep out of range of the swirling smoke and any attempted sleeping spell.
"Gotta admit fish bulb, I missed ya. Or maybe I didn't!" He fired off a net from both web shooters.
"I think not, webs linger!" Mysterio thrust out a imperious hand. "Subsisto in nomen of diligo!"
The net warped and evaporated inches from the poised finger tips. Mysterio raised another hand. "Fulmina venite!"
Spidey dropped from the ceiling as an florescent light was incinerated.
"Huh…an acidic air based compound to melt my webs before they put you under wraps? Clever Misty, too bad I know all this hand to eye coordination is just to keep me from giving you a black eye."
He waded into the smog, trying to figure out what was a curl of smoke and what was a twirl of Mysterio's cape. A shadow rose up in front of him.
"The truest of believers have far weightier matters to consider than sullying their hands with mere hand to hand combat. However, if it is the personal touch you require…Nullae satisfactionis potiri non possum!"
The pockets of nano technology in his cape split open, sparking the Homunculi robots into existence and sending them rushing in a wave towards Spider-Man.
"Oh good, my favourite cliché." Spidey flopped backwards out of the mist, keeping his arms crossed over his head as giggling talons shrieked around him.
Satisfied, Mysterio turned away, hurriedly hacking his way into rear vaults. Then he hesitated, looking at a maintenance access door just a little up the hall. It would be a waste…
Spider-Man burst out of the clouds out in the foyer, smacking away a last babbling Homunculi and bounding towards him. Mysterio hurriedly threw down another smoke bomb, slamming the vault door shut but not locking it. Spidey squinted through the churning smoke filling the entire building, then slapped his palms flat against the door, digging a toe into the suspicious smelling carpet and bracing himself.
If I know Mr -Now- You- See- Me- Now- You- Don't, he'll have an escape plan no one saw coming. Which is why I better surprise him first.
The trick here wasn't to try and pull the door open. It was to push it in and eventually out of it's frame.
His costume arms almost ripped at the seams but the steel finally buckled, crashing into the vault and almost pitching Spidey in face first after it. The smoke rushed in to fill the room, but he managed to catch a glimpse of an unconscious security guard sprawled in front of an open deposit box. There was no sign of Mysterio. He started heading towards the guard, then ducked as his Spider Sense flared suddenly.
A lightning bolt streamed over his head, tingling his hair under the mask and scorching the rows of deposit boxes. He bounced further into the room and to the side, spinning to glare at his reflection in Mysterio's helmet as he strode out of what looked like a closet and into the room.
Looks like he doubled back.
He fired another a web net, lower this time. The impact slapped the strands around Mysterio's hands and knocked him off his feet.
"Let's see you throw around some thunder now, sparky."
Mysterio complied.
His entire body erupted with electricity. Spider-Man cried out, spasmed and was sent hurtling back into the vault. The last thing he saw as he crashed and slumped down the wall was the guard smirking at him and getting up.
When he opened his boiling eyes the vault was empty and the smoke was starting to disperse. He leant against the vault frame for support, trying to keep his circulation going without breathing in the stale confetti taste of the smoke.
Huh. It's getting harder to tell what I hate most about that guy. His gremlins, or his machinery.
He prodded the burnt out Mysterio robot with his foot, wincing at the slight sensation of static.
Guess he did double back after all…
He caught sight of the clock over one of the tellers windows.
And now I'm late for school. I'd ask if this morning could get any worse but that'd be asking for it.
---
I had to ask.
He'd been late for school. Flash had laughed. Sally had sneered. Liz had…
He hadn't actually looked at her. What right did he have?
"Hey, Tiger."
Peter shifted. He squinted slightly as Mary Jane sat next to him, her hair reflecting the sunlight into his face. The skin under his eyes itched with the weight of his mask lenses and a missing week's worth of sleep.
"Hey, MJ. Welcome to the shallow end of the Midtown social shark tank."
She smiled sympathetically at the strained effort in his sleepy smile.
"Yeah, I'd noticed. My clique's kinda all over the place too right now. Glory broke into the doghouse to let Kenny know she hasn't forgiven him for getting detention and ruining their big date tonight, Flash is staring at that empty trophy case again instead of Sha Shan and…well, I kinda saw Liz in the middle of a crowd down in the hall and she looked like she could use some alone time."
He felt her hand steadying his shoulder, and was grateful even though he didn't need it.
"And you're up here alone."
"Just like old times." Peter sighed. "Thanks though MJ, really. Although after what went down between me and Liz kind of…blew up, I guess it kind of should be that way. Not like I deserve better. Although Puny Parker was better than Punking Petey."
Leave it to Flash to get inventive. Then again, just because he'd broken up with Liz first, Peter wasn't entirely sure he could blame him.
She squeezed slightly.
"Painfully obvious advice for a painful problem, Tiger, but have you tried maybe…talking to her?"
"I don't have the benefit of negotiating speaking terms with Ms Allen because you need a spine for walking up to people and signing peace treaties and stuff like that." Peter unconsciously crushed the paper his lunch had come in then let it flop lifelessly onto the roof. "Not sure I'd get the chance to anyway. Even the other nerds are at war with me for what I did."
Even though Liz had turned it into her dumping him. Maybe everyone could smell the guilt. Going over all the mistakes he'd made in their relationship felt worse than a punch from the Molten Man.
"I hear ya, Tiger. I hear ya." There was something uncharacteristically sad in MJ's smile, and maybe if he hadn't been so tired Peter would have caught it. "Everybody has bad days. Everyone else tells you there coming but you never really manage to brace for 'em. And it can be stuff like not knowing who your friends really are to your mom--not having time to pack your lunch right."
She waved the small bag in front of him humorously.
"Trade ya?"
"No way, Red. The way my day's been going, this hoagie's probably the only thing in the whole of M3 that doesn't want to squash me with the rock I'm hiding under."
He took a bite, grimacing hard enough to make Tombstone back away.
"Uck. Mayo. I asked Aunt May to hold off on the mayo. Guess that's the other thing. If I can't talk to people how am I supposed to get them to listen?"
"There's always Hobie Brown."
Hobie turned away from his conversation with Mindy McPherson two tables away, eye brows raised. Peter gave a hurried wave that almost fried itself with the air friction, then grinned humourlessly at Mary Jane.
"Thanks, but I kind of like to hang out with a guy who actually let's you take part in the conversation, y'know?"
"Tell me about it. But you can't stay wrapped up in your own problems forever, Pete. Defiantly not everyone else's."
Peter felt the burning, guilty weight of the costume under his shirt.
"Just a glutton for punishment," he muttered more to the table top than to MJ ", that's me."
"You are who you are, Tiger. And trust me, I've known worse." That made Peter hesitate, face her. But she was already standing up, the smile back in place, perhaps a little gentler. "C'mon, they installed a shiny new soda machine downstairs. Wanna go rust our teeth and wash the taste of mayo out our mouths?"
Peter looked up briefly, almost sank even further into his chair, then grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder to follow her.
"Yeah. Got plenty of washing to do, I guess."
Downing's more like it.
He'd been late for school, but that hadn't been the worst part. Not even Mysterio had been the worst part.
The worst part was seeing Harry and Gwen together across the roof.
---
Mysterio loved the doors to the Master Planner's lair. The dramatic whoosh noise when the motion sensors picked you up and commanded the doors to part for you…Heaven!
The main lab was not.
"You're late."
And the company was less than desirable.
The Tinkerer glared from his swivel chair and carefully put down the intricate pieces of machinery he'd been working on in case it exploded.
"You were supposed to be in and out of there, no theatrics. No. Robots."
"Oh Phineas, oh Phineas, don't be so fri-vo-lous." Mysterio sang, dumping the stuffed duffel bags from the bank onto the work table. The Tinkerer flailed, grabbing the junk before it hit the floor.
"Emphasizing the pronunciation of a word doesn't make it rhyme with my name, Quentin."
Mysterio leant in close to match the Tinkerer's glare, and revealed silently in triumph as the size of his dome forced the older man to back away slightly.
"But it's fun. And I almost wouldn't enjoy being a super villain if I didn't get to make my own entertainment."
And he shouldn't have to do that. He was Mysterio after all, and where was he? Bunking with the remains of the Sinister Six, pulling small time highest and squatting in a refurbished high tech basement under a condemned Tri Corp R&D lab.
Tinkerer wasn't letting this go.
"I was serious about those robots. They are not for your personal entertainment and they're twice as expensive as your smoke pellets. You'd hardly be effective without those, would you? You're barely competent with them."
"And yet, by all accounts, I managed to not only make a clean getaway," Mysterio pulled a coin from behind Tinkerer's ear, flipping it, slapping it down onto his wrists, then displaying it proudly in his other hand. Heads. ",but also to turn Spider-Man's world upside down."
"If you're quite finished…" Vulture straightened up in his chair, dimming the lights as the wall sized monitor in front of him hummed to life. Various profile shots from the Daily Bugle archives flickered on screen.
"Here's the situation as we know it; the Master Planner is currently in custody alongside Silvermane, while the Big Man remains under technical house arrest. We can assume the-ahem-'New' Enforcers still maintain their ties with him even if Hammerhead doesn't."
An avian eyebrow was raised in Tinkerer's indifferent direction before focusing back on the screen.
"Rhino and Electro are similarly incrassated along with this Molten Man character, and even if it wasn't apparently inactive we don't know enough about this Venom creature to invite it in and bolster our ranks."
Kraven took one look at the bone white teeth in the gaping black maw and growled an unconscious snarl. It was nothing compared to the snarl that briefly flashed across Vulture's face at the last image: the Green Goblin.
"I take it I don't need to explain to anybody where the Doctor or I would have us stand with Osborn even if he was still actively in control of the Big Man's territory. The Sandman is still missing, which is why we've been so dependant on you, Kraven, Mysterio, to continue many of our operations."
A dramatic twirl of his cloak, and Mysterio almost decked the Vulture with his low bow.
"No need to thank me."
"You bulge with pride like a bullfrog!" Kraven towered over Mysterio, uncurling a long feline arm to jab an accusing claw at his chest. "If not for our current situation a toad like you would have no place in this pack but to pick scraps from out bounty!"
"Really, chatty tabby? Because I can't help but notice I seem to have been getting the lion's share of our exploits." Behind the dome, Beck smirked at the slight curl of Kraven's stretched lip. "In fact you're supposedly the most skilled of any of us. Why do you think that is? Could it be that, really, for a hunter, you're a mere extra when compared to my unquestionable talent as the leading man?"
He paused, idly twirling his cape between his fingers.
"Or super villain. Whatever. My point being that despite our 'situation', given my time in the limelight and your's in the shadows…"
He flicked the edge of the cape into the air, his grin widening enough to almost show through the glass as Kraven flinched back slightly.
"…it seems I'm the best chance this pack has."
"Your skills with misdirection if not subterfuge have been well noted, Mysterio." Vulture snapped, regaining their attention with a demanding hand. "And after careful consideration of your performance this morning, the Tinkerer and I have decided that you are the best operative for the following operation…"
The screen flickered again, becoming a bird's eye view of the Midtown bank from a helicopter camera. Mysterio was disappointed the sound was off. The bulletin text added a nice flourish to his name though.
"As you may already know, the Manfredi family were almost as notorious as we are for…developing the right tools for the job. Those battle suits they developed alone could give Shocker's vibro suit a run for it's money, and allow an operative to take twice as much." The news feed cut to an scanned set of blueprints.
"And this is the shining jewel in the crown of the our premiere crime family's dirty little secret. The tablet of time. An ancient artefact discovered in the jungles of Mesoamerica and shipped to modern day New York when Silvermane emigrated from his ancestral home in Sicily, said to imbue the owner with the secrets of power and immortality."
An awed hush filled the stifled air of the underground lab, bathed in the blue glow of the monitors. The smooth sound of one of the Tinkerer's droids extracting Mysterio's real objective out of it's bag and passing it to Vulture dissolved it like cobwebs.
"All epic exaggerations naturally." Toomes' smile grew slightly more crooked as he held up the glass frame. "Or perhaps rather a metaphor. This half of the tablet contains intricate instructions for producing the Manfredi empire's technology."
He let that sink in. It didn't have much affect on anyone except the Tinkerer, almost vibrating through the floor with anticipation. Mysterio tried to subtly gather his cape about him. There was always a slight chill in the air whenever Toomes got like this…
"We have come far with the Master Planner's own not inconsiderable designs, but with secrets such as these we could go even further. The secret to power and immortality indeed."
Vulture's shadow fell across the wall as he held the frame aloft, a black and blood red priest displaying new commandments. In all honesty the thing looked so cracked and pockmarked it would probably give you a headache trying to follow every one of the lines, but if you saw the cracks as separate pieces on separate layers…
"It can not be argued that with so many of us currently residing in the Vault, our recourses surely need replenishing." Vulture continued "And we would certainly not be unrewarded if we were to return the Manfredi's property to them for the right price. Or the Big Man. After we had satisfied our own curiosity of course. With the wealth of knowledge contained in this tablet we could develop--"
"Better illusions? Better robots?"
Beck cursed. He'd forgotten Mysterio's accent in his excitement.
"The possibilities are not limited. Not with this single piece of the puzzle to be exact. With the complete set…" Vulture gestured towards the prints on screen. "Well. I doubt even your considerable imagination could envision the applications of this technology, Mysterio. Nevertheless, as the means to the Age of the Super Criminal's own Industrial Revolution, or simply a bargaining chip in the upcoming underworld politics, the tablet is surely more valuable combined than divided. Which is why we need to make our move tonight before news reaches any one of our competitors that this morning was more than just a simple bank robbery."
Beck was almost surprised when the image changed again: an unassuming office block.
"Gentlemen, the offices of Landau, Luckmanand Lake, one of the Manfredi's many representatives, and also one of two possible locations for the second half of the tablet of time. Security is tight, and our resources are considerably low, but with our best operative I'm more than sure we'll have what we need within hours."
A slight sniff from the beak like nose.
"Assuming Spider-Man doesn't interfere, but events are already in motion to prevent just that."
Kraven growled.
"Let him come," Mysterio preened ", twice the tablets, twice the chance to send him away shaking in his tasteless red boots!"
"That's exactly the sort of attitude we were expecting from you, and why we are entirely confident you will be capable of fulfilling your mission even with the minor field resources we will provide you and no animatronics assistance whatsoever."
There was a silence so powerful the hushed sound of traffic trickled down and flooded the room.
"No…robots…" Beck said slowly. The strangled note to his voice was mutilated by the voice almightier into something worse.
"I'm afraid that last duplicate you had stored at the Midtown Bank was the only one currently functioning. But for an agent with your skills…"
Toomes let that hang in the air for a moment, like an eagle tossing a turtle into the air, giving it a few seconds of shrieking relief and terrible freedom before the slow clawing realisation of gravity…
"Of…of course…" Beck rallied, suddenly awfully aware of everything in the room, how hot it was inside the costume, the freezing subterranean air, the hum of electronics, the smell of Kraven's fur. "I…although if not for, um, replenishing our resources…I'm sure I can…"
"If not for you they wouldn't need replenishing." The Tinkerer had always been good a picking his moments like that.
"Very well!" Beck snapped, gathering Mysterio's cape around him and trying to keep his shoulder pads from shaking. "Therefore I shall retire to my quarters to prepare for tonight's festivities!"
"I'm sure." Vulture repeated. Smiling.
Beck nodded, then remembered none of them would see it outside his dome.
"Anon!" he announced, sweeping out of the room.
To prepare for the mission. That was it.
Not at all because he was feeling like he might just throw up. Inside his helmet. Not at all.