Disclaimer: I do not own any affiliation of the Spider-Man franchise consisting of its entertainment branches. They are rightfully owned by Marvel and Sony and Columbia Pictures. However, this is fan fiction and I do not want my work to be published for profit. It is simply for pleasure in which I present my own take of the Spider-Man 3 film.
Spider-Man 3
Written by moises08
1
One Of Us
"What is the difference between the right and the easy? What constituted its' dichotomy. You could save the day, and just as easy destroy it, and you can easily find what was right; what was just, civil; and what should be upheld as morally good. You can already recognize that convicting your father's murderer is much easier and "right" than honestly admitting that he was the wrong place at the wrong time. Things people take for granted, are merely decided under these terms: are they right? Are they wrong? Are they easy? It is not such a burden of doing the right thing, but more of deciding on it. For the people of New York it seems Spider-man, New York City's greatest vigilante, understands these terms. He finds his place on this world easy, but is right? Is it his right do so? The people lift up to him to save the day; to make the decision. But what makes him so special? What is it about him that can give him the authority to decide on what's morally good or wrong? He spins a few webs, the crowd cheers; he catches a few thugs, the people make plaster him on magazines. It seems if you have the power, you can control what is good or bad then. You can constitute what is right by your abilities to do what is hard for the rest of us. If you can save the day, where us regular folks cannot, then you must know. You must know how easy it is to do it, and thusly you can't know how hard it is for the other people, us, where we spend night and day of our lives trying to decide what is right on the simplest and lowest degree. Spider-Man doesn't know because God wouldn't stoop down so low as to give one man the power to decide. In the end you must ask, is he really one of us, or is he really just a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? That my friends is a decision we make for ourselves."
One Of Us?
By Edward C. Brock
April 2007; Daily Globe
"It's me, Peter, you're friendly neighborhood…you know." Peter chuckled at his own charm, leaning against the pay phone. "Well I was just in that neighborhood and I wanted to give you a call but it seems you're out again. Not that it matters or not but I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner again some time." He shifted the phone to the other ear. "Look, I know that you've been busy lately with your shows and it's perfectly fine, and I'd like to admit that I've been all five of them. Isn't that great?" Peter started to laugh but stopped after passerby began shooting odd faces at him. "So give me a call whenever you're in alright, MJ? Love ya, Bye."
Peter Parker of Queens, New York hung up the phone and pocketed his change from the machine. Being out in public, as Peter Parker, felt refreshing and welcoming. To walk through the crowds each morning and know that every feat that he, that Spider-Man accomplishes keeps this going was something to admire. On an even greater day he might even catch a glimpse of himself swinging through the city on a public monitor or a conversation or two with "did you what Spider-Man did the other day?" This was the true payoff for the job. To walk past the newsstands and see "NY loves Spider-Man on shirts", "Spider-Man Saves The Day Again!" on newspaper headlines, was to him, the ultimate reward.
Peter used a few coins to purchase his usual morning papers, a routine check to see how Spider-Man was rubbing off on the media. "-Spider-Man doesn't know…greatest vigilante…don't think God would stoop down so low…One Of Us?-"
Peter frowned at the article and flipped towards the back for a biography of the new journalist and to much of his surprise he was as much an armature writer as he was right. Edward Charles Brock Jr; Graduated from Columbia University in New York with a career of college athletics and journalism; "-after giving up what would have seemed a successful career as a professional athlete, Edward Brock chose to write for the Daily Globe as the newest, leading journalist. He first feat was raising eyebrows everywhere with his hot-firing piece "One Of Us?" where Brock criticizes Spider-Man for having the power to chose what happens to the rest of the people. This ultimately earned him an immediate seat as a co-editor to the Daily Globe. Currently, Brock has received praise for his involvement with the Sin-Eater case. Through undisclosed means, Brock was able to interview a key suspect where, in just a few days time, come out with a full fledged confession. Captain Jean DeWolff of the New York Police Department has his own comments on the confession but has officially claimed that the confession hold us, giving Brock yet another honorable achievement-"
Peter tossed the newspaper into the nearest garbage can. A picture of the star journalist of the Daily Globe, a rival newspaper to the Daily Bugle, smiled confidently and concrete. He seemed like a man of potential and achievement; much like Jameson, only lacking the Hitler-wannabe mustache and hot headed wit.
Besides the Daily Bugle, Peter found himself to be targeted by yet another media source. Even though many people have thrown smear campaigns at the "Amazing Spider-Man", to be a journalist and achieve such success for firing at Spider-Man was often rare. Nonetheless these first time journalists never go far with Spider-Man's head on the front page. Not anymore. Peter bought the next newspaper and went on his own way.
Peter, of course, had his own "personal" gratification for being Spider-Man.
"I come along way from being that boy you knew who was bit by a spider." Peter smiled caringly at Mary Jane. He took a sip of his drink and held her hand over the coffee table. "Back then nothing seemed to go right for me, but now…people really like me."
Mary Jane smiled back and gave him an "Of Course People Like You" expression. They were at the usual corner coffee house. The same shop that was nearly destroyed by Otto's rampage throughout the city; by sending a hurling compact through towards both of them, and at the worst of times!
"Peter, it's not like you stayed them same, or we for that matter. Look at us now." She tightened her hand. "You know, I have another show tonight-"
"I'm already there." Peter beamed and took another sip.
Mary Jane smiled accordingly and rolled her eyes. "Of course. You're tickets are at the same spot, same row, same chair. Right where I can see you the best."
She looked out the window into the life of the street. "I still can't believe it. Look at how much we've grown."
Peter nodded and looked down at her empty ring finger. "Do you think you make time after the show?"
"Of course, I think, we'll see…" Mary Jane smiled again. This was something that Peter thought he could never tired of. Peter knew that this was exactly what he wanted. Exactly.
"I love you MJ."
"I love you too, Peter."
Practically everything else seemed perfect. The city was safe and sound, the crime rates were at their lowest, and above all, he had his life in control. Peter was even at the top of his class.
"Now the plutonium shows us that the energy levels are perturbed by the electric field. From the form of this matrix, we can see-" Dr. Kurt Connors was cut off by Peter shooting his hand in the air. He stopped writing on the chalkboard and turned towards the students.
He was sitting quietly in the Physics Department of Columbia University, furiously taking down notes. The rest of the class rolled their eyes and muttered lowly.
"Yes, Mr. Parker?"
"That only the 'm' equals zero quantum dates are affected?"
"That's correct Peter." Connors shot him a wink and continued on. "Therefore, the following matricies 'm' and 'r' are also affected by the plutonium's reaction towards our change…" Peter jotted down every word that Connors spat out and even scribbled in his own comments. Every now and then he would take a quick glance up and see his Physics Professor squeeze his own right hand, irritably.
Spider-Man zipped past the oncoming cars and swung himself back upwards. He landed gracefully on top of a billboard and ran over towards the apartment rooftops, jumping from post to post. The night sky felt somehow heavy and thick. Spider-Man continued to swift over alleyways and streets until he stopped in front of the New York Criminal Courthouse.
The Sin-Eater case was a private now public murder case of a new serial killer who claims to protect the innocent by "doing away" with the guilty. His last three victims were a couple of druggies trying to rob a corner gas station and a state trooper beating on a kid. What was frustrating Peter the most was not that this Sin-Eater had been escaping him for some time now but that the wrong person had confessed to this Edward Brock. Spider-Man knew better than to believe that the killer had openly confessed to a journalist, even after sending a letter to the police department announcing the future death of a judge. This, ultimately, led to him being at the courthouse. This Sin-Eater isn't sitting in jail; he was making his way towards a city judge.
Spider-Man crawled over the ledge, escaping the hot fumes of the roof ventilations and nestled beneath the shadows of a window seal. Ever door of the courthouse was locked expect for the front exit, the Sin-Eater's only entrance. And off to the distance he could see a single dark figure running up the front steps of the courthouse and towards those doors. He was wearing a large trench coat, a ski mask, a shotgun cartridge belt looped around his torso, and a knapsack. The Sin-Eater didn't even hesitate to pull out the barrel of a shotgun from the depths of his coat and point it at the two security guards.
Spider-Man immediately jumped off the side of the building and swung across the street towards the front of the courthouse where he landed precisely on the Sin-Eater's back. The sudden impact made him drop the shotgun as he collapsed onto the floor.
"Not tonight, bud."
The security guards pulled out their guns and looked uncertainly at Spider-Man.
"Whoever's in there, get them out." Spider-Man urged at the two guards or took command and followed suit. Spider-Man was still on the man's back and he lowered his head down to earshot. "I've been following you for sometime. The Sin-Eater huh? You know I respect a local vigilante but dude, you're taking it a little bit too far."
"Spider-Man," the Sin-Eater's voice creeping like a sinister spider all on its' own, "I have hoped that we would one day cross paths, just not in this sense."
"Well, you're only going to cross me once so enjoy it." Spider-Man supported himself on one kneeling leg while pressing his other knee down on the Sin-Eater's back.
"I do not wish to fight you. I admire and respect your position in life, but you also an obstacle to mine own." He looked around and saw the shotgun at arm's reach.
"Hate to break it to you but running around, killing innocent people in the name of justice isn't much of a respectable position." He webbed the criminal's hands behind his back.
"I thought you'd knew better Spider, I thought you'd understand the meaning in my efforts."
"Well I don't admire your efforts in my city, not when you're hurting my people."
"Your city; your people?" The Sin-Eater began to laugh. "Spider-Man you really are something else but I'm afraid that I must refute to your position. I should, after all, complete my mission; my sole purpose in life."
"Boy, you're nuts." Spider-Man looked ahead and saw the two night guards calling for backup on their radios and guiding a line of people away from the courthouse. The Sin-Eater looked up and glared at Judge Horace Rosenthal, a highly acclaimed legal enforcer.
"At last. Spider-Man I am saddened by our differences in views but I am also most distressed to tell you that you are indeed an obstacle; an obstacle that I will have to deal with at once." The Sin-Eater immediately jumped up on his feet, throwing Spider-Man off of his back. He lifted his arms back over his head where he could see them and in one clean swift, he tore through the webbing around his hands and made way for the shotgun.
Spider-Man was stunned at the feat by the Sin-Eater, something that not a normal person was able to do. He landed nicely on his feet but was two seconds too slow to react when he heard two cracking gun shots. One of the night guards and a running bystander were in front of Judge Rosenthal and shot. He zipped out a long stream of web at the shotgun and pulled it away from his hands.
"Spider-Man! Why do you not understand what I am trying to protect!" The Sin-Eater shouted as he ran forth, pushing aside the screaming crowd toward the judge.
"No more." Spider-man spun a few more lines of web at the stunned judge and pulled him back.
"He is mine! This man has the blood of the innocent on him and I will kill this man in the name of those people!" The Sin-Eater took out a small, mechanical sphere from his knapsack and pressed on the top. "Even if I have to kill you in the process."
The judge's face whitened and Spider-Man immediately knew what that was but the question was how did he get it?
"Harry sends his regards." The Sin-Eater tossed the sphere, now glowing and beeping, towards Spider-Man and the frightened judge in his arms and in an instant, Spider-Man shoved the judge towards the street where cop cars now lined up with their flashing lights; pedestrians crowded around the "do not cross" tapes; and news reporters stood shoulder to shoulder awaiting the death of either of them. There was a brief moment of silence and a blinding flash of light before a roaring blast and a fiery explosion followed.
The crowd hushed as they searched for Spider-Man's corpse through the smoke and flames. However, it was Sin-Eater who walked through the smoke with another bomb in his hands.
"In the famous words of the slime Jameson himself, 'Spider-Man is no more'." the Sin-Eater pressed on the top of the bomb and lifted his arm.
Suddenly, streaks of webbing began to cover his back and Sin-Eater was pulled into the night air. He landed on the ceiling of the courthouse where Spider-Man awaited him.
"You're no different than the criminals he sends in prison." Spider-Man zipped out webbing at his feet and pulled him closer. "At least they don't lie to themselves."
The Sin-Eater swung his legs around and clipped Spider-Man from behind. "You dare to call my life a lie?" He got up and pulled out a pistol. But before Spider-Man could get back up and see him, the Sin-Eater vanished into the shadows of the roof.
"I don't know, I'm not in the mood for hide and seek." Spider-Man looked around him in cautious alert. He scanned the roof for any sign of movement but the ventilation machines, air ducts and other obstacles made it harder for him to seek and easier the Sin-Eater to hide.
"Oh don't flatter yourself Spider-Man. Games are your specialty, isn't that right Peter Parker?"
Spider-Man stopped dead. He said his name.
"Yes, Spider-Man, I know who you are." The sinister voice carried itself throughout the roof. "What I don't know is why don't you see the greatness in my work?"
Spider-Man saw a quick glimpse of a figure darting across to his left. "Well, I'm just not the type to kill people."
"That's not what I've heard." Spider-Man head a click behind his head before he could make a move. The Sin-Eater held the pistol to his head. "Now, Parker, I bid thee farewell."
POP!
"Congratulations!" The entire twentieth floor erupted with cheers. Champagne exploded and spewed over. A crowed cheered and roared with laughter and celebration. The chief editor of the Daily Globe, Lee Ditko stood in the middle of the bustling crowd with a champagne glass in his hand. He raised his hand up for a descending silence.
"Alright, alright. I first want to thank Grey for the champagne and wine." There was another short cheer. "But the purpose of this celebration is not only for our paper's fiftieth anniversary but for the achievement of one of our very own starting staff members, Eddie Brock." Ditko waved for Brock to come forth from the crowd and the cheering commenced. Brock smiled and shrugged, holding his own glass. "Let's hear it Ed."
Brock stood amid the circle of news reporters, co-editors, photographers and copy boys and took a moment to soak in where he was. In just a few months time he was already a top of the game.
"I just want to say that I couldn't do this alone. Not without the Daily Globe's help, or Lee, can't argue with that." Eddie made an odd face with a crowd of chuckling pursuing. "But seriously, you people are amazing. I could chose a job anywhere else but I knew that it was here that I could count on you guys. Thanks." Brock held up his glass. "To the Daily Globe."
"To the Daily Globe." Everyone else mimicked and drunk their glasses.
"So, tell everyone what really happened." Ditko urged.
"Well, it really all started with my investigating the Sin-Eater case, and I know that Ditko told me once not to but-"
"I had a feeling something good would come of it." Ditko cut in and smiled.
Brock shrugged again and pointed at Ditko with his glass. "You gotta give it to the big guy." More clapping and cheering pursued.
"-But I went on with it anyway and I found this guy named Charles Grantly, the very man who after numerous attempts for an interview, finally gave me a confession that he was the Sin-Eater." The crowed went silent. "He told me his story, reasons and everything qualified to be exactly who he said he was. He wasn't a serial killer; after looking closely, I noticed that he was just a man lost on the inside." Brock too took a moment of silence. "I'm not proud that I put this man in jail, I'm proud that I told the world who he really was and I wish that I could get recognized for setting this man free on the inside." He raised up his glass again, half empty. "I want to celebrate the reconciliation of Charles Grantly, and I know that I shouldn't bring my religion into my work but I feel, myself, that I owe that to him." Everyone began clapping and giving their condolences to Brock. Even Ditko walked over and patted his back.
"I'm proud of you." Ditko said, shaking his hand. "I'm very proud of you. You're like a son to me, do you know that?"
Brock smiled weakly but gave no answer.
A thin woman appeared in front of the two men. "Mr. Ditko, sir, I think you need to see this." She said lowly. Ditko let go of their handshake and followed her into a staff room where many people crowded around a television screen. Brock walked into the heavy room behind Ditko and watched as his life fell apart.
A newswoman on the screen was frantic. "-I repeat once again, Spider-Man has captured and defeated what is known as the Sin-Eater. This notorious criminal is known for his ruthless killing sprees under the name of justice. This is breaking news coming to you live as you can see the criminal Sin-Eater wrapped around layers of web and dangling by a single thread from the rooftop of the criminal courthouse. This is the real Sin-Eater you are looking at and we'll have more coverage later as we unfold who is behind the mask-"
The last case of wine was never opened.
Peter swung through the alleyways as quickly as he could, dodging any hanging obstacle. Mary Jane's show had started five minutes ago and he was in a state of panic. After escaping a near death he rushed to his apartment, redressed and quickly left without even taking care of the gunshot wound to his side. Peter's mind was burdened though as he recalled the final moments with the Sin-Eater:
"How do you know that?" Spider-Man stood perfectly still, his spider sense ringing in his head.
"Let's just say I had some help along the way. Help that was indeed very useful." The Sin-Eater held a firm grip on the gun.
Without a second's warning, Spider-Man swung behind him and slammed his fist down on the Sin-Eater's hand, moving the gunshot at waist point. Spider-Man let out a muffled groan but spun around nonetheless and punched him across the face, sending the Sin-Eater flying backwards. The Sin-Eater crashed atop an exhaust pipe, flipping over the machine and slid halfway across the roof.
"I don't know your full story Sin-Eater but I'm taking you out." Spider-Man sped towards the fallen criminal.
The Sin-Eater pulled out another bomb from his knapsack and pressed the white top. "Die Spider-Man!" But a second after he hurled the bomb, Spider-Man webbed had webbed it down on the floor, inches from the Sin-Eater. It had suddenly began beeping before the Sin-Eater could move an inch when a bright, fiery flash illuminated the rooftop of the courthouse. He was flung into the air like a rag doll, landing one again atop a ventilation shaft, unconscious and out. Spider-Man knelt down over the fallen body of the Sin-Eater and pulled the ski mask of. What he saw was a middle aged man with thin, white hair. He had never seen that man before so he placed the mask back on him and began webbing him up, readying him for the spectators below; readying them for another spectacular feat by the Amazing Spider-Man. What he, himself, wasn't ready for was that as soon as the media had seen the real Sin-Eater, he had already woven himself another adventure.
Peter landed slightly ungracefully in the alley and walked out of the slums of the shadows and into the thriving city life. He fixed his tie and straightened his jacket up, not noticing the ever increasing red stain in his side.
Something else of Peter that isn't quite so new but greater, is his love for Mary Jane. Normally, he would busy himself studying his favorite Physics class, or do a nightly patrol of the streets, but after finally admitting to the girl of his dreams that he was who he was, he couldn't help but to attend every single show that she at one of the many theaters in New York.
Peter limped past a jewelry store and stopped to admire the many amazing diamonds, necklaces and jewels they had to offer. But of the many dazzling features the store held, none was more greater than a spectacular diamond ring that was being displayed on the window. He felt as if time stopped just for that moment, so that he was able to close his eyes and picture that ring on Mary Jane's finger. One day, he thought.
He reached the Sardis Theater and admired the title of show, "Manhattan Memories", with, in bold letters, Mary Jane's name written where everyone could see. After waiting forever in line at the ticket office, he reached the counter and finally winced at the sudden pain in his side. He looked inside his jacket and saw the giant spot of dark blood staining his suit.
"Hi, Do you have a napkin, a towel? He asked through the ticket counter. "Oh and Miss Watson left a ticket for me, Peter Parker?" Peter gripped the counter and grimaced.
"Here you go Mr. Parker, and there are towels in the lavatories." The ticket woman handed Peter the tickets and continued on with the next person. Peter lightly held his side and quickly made it inside, anxiously awaiting his first row seat, for the fifth time. However, as the love struck Peter Parker hurried to find his seat, there was hurry in another part of the city.
The docks next to Coney Island held many mischievous doings for the underworld of New York City. In the fishing warehouses set next to the beach which neighbored Coney Island, there were three darkly clothed men waiting beneath a floodlight. To visit the beach at night was both exhilarating and dangerous; but these men knew both all too well.
"Where's Baker?" One of them whispered.
"You Idiot! Have you forgot? He doesn't go by that name anymore." Another taller man barked, pushing him aside as he walked over to the edge of the dock, scanning for any movement in the black waters. "It's Flint."
"You see him, Vic?" The third man asked also running up to the railing.
"No, but that's his name now. You've never heard of Baker."
"Sorry, Vic."
The three now stood together, waiting and watching the river. After what seemed like endless hours, a small boat quietly drifted towards the dock. A man with a single, large sack sat alone in the small raft.
"He's late." The man who appeared to have blonde, streaky hair and was named Vic, lowered a ladder over the railing of the dock and helped the man up and over the edge. He carried with him the large brown sack slugged over his shoulder.
"Flint, you're an hour late. What happened?" Vic attempted to shout in a whispering tone.
"I hit a few bumps in the road." The large man named Flint heaved the sack over his shoulders and into his own arms.
Vic grunted and nodded, motioning for the other two to get a van that was sitting beneath the shadows of the pier. "C'mon and bring it. We got until sunrise to get it to the Big Man."
When the van quietly arrived in front of them, Flint placed the sack inside the back of the van where he noticed that the sack twitched. "Try not to drive so fast."
"We can't help lost time, now can we?" Vic said as he climbed into the van. He threw a roll of money into Flint's hand and banged on the side of the van.
"If we need you again buddy, we'll call you." Vic went inside the back of the van and closed the doors. The van had quietly started up again and drove off into the night.
Flint took the roll and walked off back towards the beach. Coney Island wasn't too far off. He could remember being a boy and playing in the sand, creating beautiful sand sculptures; enjoying youth in its fullest. That was when there was nothing but him and his mother. Flint placed his hands in his pocket and continued on home.
Peter held the paper towel on his side as he leaned back in his chair and tried to stay still, many times bumping into the people next to him. He smiled at them and shrugged. "So nervous."
"Congratulations." A large man to the left said dully, as he never took his eyes off the rising curtains. The lights dimmed, the crowed hushed and the show began. Peter smiled at the sound of the sweet music and his heart gave flight at the sight of his own beloved, Mary Jane Watson. She was dressed in an elegant white dress that glowed with a precious aura in the theater as she made her way down a stairway of crystal steps.
"They say that falling in love…is wonderful, it's wonderful…" Mary Jane's voice was full and lovely. Peter absorbed every sound of it as he silently mouthed the song with her, "-so they say." The crowd clapped and talked excitedly among each other.
Peter was ecstatic. "That's my girlfriend!" He said to the larger person to his right.
"Once again, congratulations."
Peter's smile faded and he turned back to the show slightly embarrassed but ever so in love.
"-And if the moon above is wonderful, it's wonderful…so they tell me. I can't recall who said, I know I never read it, I only know they tell me that love is grand...and…the thing that knows there's romance is wonderful, wonderful…in every way…"
The audience loved her; Peter adored her; and Harry, well Harry missed her. He sat in one of the balconies admiring Mary Jane in the stage and glaring at Peter in the front row. He swept his hand through his hair and noticed that Peter winced ever so often while holding his side. This made Harry smile to his own delight.
"-So, they, say…"
She finished and with the audience in the theater clapping with thunderous applause, she knew she had it all. Peter knew too that he would, without a doubt, marry that girl named Mary Jane Watson. Then again, Harry knew that everything would turn out for the better, or worse. That he promised.