-I haven't read many, if any comic books on Spider-Man, but I've researched a lot for this story, read some books on it, and seen all the movies. If there's an error somewhere, I'm sorry. This doesn't have much of a timeline according to the comics, but I can tell you this much-Spider-Man still uses web-shooters so it's before "Disassembled". He's married to Mary Jane Watson and they live in Forest Hills, Queens. That's about it. Enjoy!-SF12
Disclaimer: Everybody but Nate Lowry and Matt Dale belongs to Stan Lee or Adam-Troy Castro.
No day at the Daily Bugle is normal. So we can't begin this story with "It was a normal day at the Bugle." The only routine items in place on the day when this story begins are the "Spider-Man is a menace!" rants of J. Jonah Jameson, and the usual hectic atmosphere. So the only thing we can do is drop into the story with no introduction whatsoever.
Peter Parker was sitting at a desk in the small space reserved for freelancers, or freeloaders, as Jameson liked to call them, sipping coffee and wincing at the bitter taste. He was waiting for Betty Brant to alert him- "Mr. Jameson could see him now". Even though he was a few hundred yards away from Jonah's office, and the media-related noise was blaring in his ears, Peter could still hear Jonah's shouting loud and clear. Hoffman's brilliant idea of a story about how Spider-Man saved a family from a fire was not being received well.
"Hoffman, I pay for good ideas! GOOD IDEAS! Celebrating the glory of a crook that tries to trick all of New York into thinking he's a hero-BAD IDEA! I REST EASY KNOWING ONE LOYAL NEW YORKER DOESN'T BELIEVE HIS SHAM! WHOEVER HE IS, HE'S GOT ME TO DEAL WITH! YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK OF SPIDER-MAN-" To your probable relief, Jonah's last remark is unprintable.
Peter smirked into his coffee, making an odd slurp noise, and earning an equally odd glance from Nate Lowry, a freelance journalist. He was saved from coming up with an excuse by Joe "Robbie" Robertson, editor of the Bugle. Robbie strode up to his desk, followed by a light brown-haired fellow of perhaps eighteen.
"Hey, Pete. Got an hour or so to spare?"
Surprised by the question, Peter responded, "I guess so, since Jonah's taking his sweet time. Why?"
Robbie smiled. "My companion here-" He indicated the teen with the curly brown hair-"-is Matthew-Christian Dale, the Bugle's newest intern. He's interested in photography, and who better show him the ropes than you, our photographer extraordinaire!"
Again taken by surprise and needing to hide it, Peter replied bemusedly, "Matthew-Christian?"
The teen inclined his head in greeting. "Just call me Matt."
"Uh, sure." He couldn't disagree without arising suspicion, but Peter had no idea what to do. Sure, he was a decent photographer, not bad at all, but Robbie's "photographer extraordinaire" was Spider-Man posing in front of a self-timer.
Robbie left and Matt looked at Peter expectedly.
"Uh, why don't you sit down? We should get to know each other a little bit."
"Sure. I used to play track and gymnastics-too busy now, though. And obviously I'm interested in photography."
"Any other interests?" Peter was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it.
"Uh, yeah, I'm a great shot. Not really into hunting, but marksmanship-definitely. Tae-kwon-do-I'm the highest level in it."
Stalling as much as possible, Peter replied. "Well, as Robbie probably told you, I'm Peter Parker, freelance photographer, though I usually work for the Bugle. I live in Forest Hills with my wife, Mary Jane, and I love biochemistry."
Being friendly, but clearly wanting to move on, Matt said, "So, Peter, what's the life like around here?"
"Well…"
As if on cue, Jonah's tantrum restarted. "LOWRY! THAT ARTICLE'S LATE. YOU'RE FIRED!"
Matt winced. "That bad?"
"It's worse for Spider-Man. Jonah hates his guts."
"Really? What's Mr. Jameson got against Spidey? He's my idol."
Pleased by this piece of information, Peter nodded. "I'm well-known for knowing the secret to getting the impossible shot of him."
"How?" Matt seemed interested.
"If I told you that, it wouldn't be a secret, now would it?"
"Guess not." Matt shrugged.
This conversation couldn't go on forever- Peter resigned himself to his fate and started talking about photography…but broke off.
Something was here- his spider-sense could feel it. It shrieked warnings and Peter knew that this was bad. No small-time dangers awaited them.
He was right.
A man in green-yellow tights burst through the wall, energy crackling in his hands, less than half a second later.
Peter's spider-sense gave him a warning and he leaped upward to avoid being fried, pushing Matt behind a desk as he did so. The lightning hit Nate Lowry's computer instead, Nate himself frozen in fear, as he stopped his argument with J. Jonah Jameson.
Peter turned to Matt. "Stay behind this desk. I'm going to call the police."
The teen nodded. He didn't seem scared. Lucky him.
Peter wasn't scared for himself. He was scared for the others.
Max Dillon, also called Electro, strode across the room, effortlessly pushing aside a present security guard, who had been unlucky enough to have business with Jameson.
Max Dillon also had business with Jameson.
He zapped the door in to cinders, and walked through to Jonah's office.
Nate Lowry cowered in the corner while Dillon grinned evilly at Jonah.
"Tell the bugman that I need to see him. Broadcast through whatever articles you can that he killed-"
"You rang, Master Dillon?"
Electro whirled around. There stood a man in a red-and-blue bodysuit, complete with spider insignia. Spider-Man, of course.
"Well, if it ain't the particular bug I'm lookin' for." Dillon grinned.
Spider-Man had just enough time to shout exasperatedly "Its arachnid!" before jumping high into the air to avoid Dillon's bolt of energy.
"Just as I was about to bait the trap for you-you pay me a nice visit. I was planning to frame you for murder- but this is less complicated."
"How original! Its not like that's been tried ten thousand times or anything." Spidey said snidely, while he discreetly webbed Bugle employees and swung them to the safety of the other room.
This had a gigantic effect on Dillon, who fumed with electricity. He shot it all at Spider-Man in a huge blast.
Spider-sense warned the web-slinger enough so that he leaned back, dodging the worst part of the shock.
It wasn't enough.
Spider-Man crumpled to the ground, momentarily stunned. Just as he started to get up, a yellow boot stomped on his chest and pushed back down.
Max Dillon stood above, leering with triumph. His eyes crackled with energy, matching his hands with power.
So this is how it ends. He'd never imagined it like this. Electro was a powerful foe, but he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.
In his mind, Peter could see his wife, Mary Jane, at their home in Forest Hills. Cleaning dishes. Or maybe paying bills. Unaware that this was her love's last day on Earth. Who would break the news to her? Robbie? Betty? Her media friend, Glory Grant, perhaps? That Spider-Man was dead. By then, they'd know it was Peter. One's dead, one's missing-two and two made four.
He looked into the main room, where his friends watched powerless. Robbie Robertson was hauling himself to his feet, but he wouldn't reach them in time. Not that he could've done much to Electro. Ben Urich stared at the scene as if it had to be a nightmare. Billy Walters, Betty Brant, Nate Lowry, Vreni Byrne…they all couldn't believe it.
His eyes searched the group, and found the face he was looking for.
James Jonah Jameson.
The man had tormented his life as Spider-Man on occasions too numerous to count. But, when he looked at Jonah now, he did not see the angry look of someone who hated him. But rather, a soft look of goodbye. His eyes met the opaque lenses of Spider-Man's, and he nodded slowly. An apology…and a message of gratitude. Spider-Man closed his eyes.
"Goodbye, Max."
"NO!" A voice rang out.
Spidey's eyes snapped open. Matt Dale stood next to him, his fists raised at Dillon.
"Are you interfering with the affairs of Electro, the Human Dynamo?"
Matt glared at the villain. "Yep."
Fury filled Dillon. "I don't have time for this crud." He raised his hand and shot a bolt of electricity at the teen.
Energy seared up Matt Dale's arm, shocking him all the way up to his left shoulder. He fell to the ground, motionless.
Spider-Man let out a formless scream as Matt fell. He had been powerless! And he was the hero!
He pulled his fist back and let fly at the sneering features of Max Dillon. A crack told him he had broken the man's nose, but he didn't stop. He swung his arm again and again until Robbie caught his arms and shoved him away from Dillon.
"He's dead all because of me!" The web-slinger sobbed openly. The young life, cut down so early…
"He's not dead, son."
"What?"
Robbie was feeling Matt's wrist. "There's a pulse. He's alive! But he needs to get to a hospital! Now!"
"Leave it to me."
The doctor, a young woman in sea-green scrubs, accepted Matt immediately. She ushered Spidey out, who proceeded to change his clothes in the closet, becoming Peter Parker.
When Peter returned to the waiting room, it was jam-packed full of anxious Bugle employees. The chattered endlessly, but all on the same topic-was the kid going to be okay?
Peter kept his distance. If something happened to Matthew-Christian Dale, he would never forgive himself. It was his weakness that caused the near-death. He had accepted his fate too early…
"Excuse me." The doctor said. No one could hear her over the noise.
"Excuse me!" She said, raising her voice. Nothing.
"ATTENTION, IDIOTS!"
Everyone glanced her way.
"Matthew-Christian is quite close to death. We need blood of his type-lots of it! But we're short on it-he has a very rare type. If we can get at least two donors, we might have a chance…who here has O-negative blood?"
Exactly two people raised their hands. Peter Parker and J. Jonah Jameson.
After the blood donation, Peter went home. Ordinarily, he'd have stayed there for days. He'd done that for Aunt May. But…somehow he knew it wouldn't help. At home, there was always something. Mary Jane's presence.
She embraced as soon as he stepped inside the homey little house in Forest Hills, Queens.
"I saw it on the news. I thought you were doomed for sure."
"Matt Dale could've died. He might still…" He broke off.
When Mary Jane spoke, her every word was laced with regret. "How is he?"
"Bad. But there's a chance…"
She nodded vigorously. "A chance is all he needs. I gave you a chance a year ago, at Liz Allan's party, when you proposed to me-you ignored your life as Spider-Man to be with me. You gave that Dale kid a chance with your blood-he'll get better. Just you wait. Now go lie down-I'll make some dinner."
Peter smiled and lay down on his bed. MJ was right. His blood…
He sat bolt upright.
HIS BLOOD!
The radioactivity…the mutilated DNA…some of it had undoubtedly been transferred to Matt.
He could've created another superhuman. He could've given Matt superpowers. He could've ruined his life.
And Matt had no way out.
-Like it? Most of the characters belong to the creators and-or Adam-Troy Castro. Sometimes I hate FFN-the asterisks don't work. Just place them in where needed. Tell me how I did in a review-SF12